40 20 5655 https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/f432eb4cba1fb227f734d5873439415b.mp3 2217aef14ea18476168a1c08bc3c41a2 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.) 01:04:52 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. Paul's Letter to the Romans and the Problem of Original Sin Description An account of the resource Audio recording of a lecture given by Erik Dempsey on November 14, 2025 as part of the Dean’s Lecture & Concert Series. The Dean’s Office has provided this description of the event: “This talk offers a close reading of St. Paul’s Epistle to the Romans, focusing on the discussion of the economy of salvation in chapters 5-8. It looks especially at the relationship between the Mosaic Law and the New Covenant, what Paul means by ‘sin,’ and how his view of the sinful condition of human beings grounds his understanding of their relationship to God and Jesus Christ. The Epistle to the Romans is one of the most disputed texts ever written. There are full, line-by-line commentaries about it by at least four authors who often appear on the St. John’s program, St. Thomas Aquinas, Martin Luther, John Calvin and (perhaps surprisingly) John Locke, and extended discussions by several others. While the subject of this talk is Romans, it looks to the readings and reflections of other program authors to try to make sense of Paul’s thoughts and to explain some key alternatives to it.” Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Dempsey, Erik 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 2025-11-14 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 Bible. Romans Sin, Original Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SF_DempseyE_St._Paul's_Letter_to_the_Romans_and_the_Problem_of_Original_Sin_2025-11-14 Friday night lecture Worrell lecture https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/235f0dc0152010d8b003fd3d1fbce82d.mp3 a4909475386df417dd9fda7a626df453 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Description An account of the resource Items in this collection are part of a series of lectures given every year at St. John's College. During the Fall and Spring semesters, lectures are given on Friday nights. Items include audio and video recordings and typescripts.<br /><br />For more information, and a schedule of upcoming lectures, please visit the <strong><a href="http://www.sjc.edu/programs-and-events/annapolis/formal-lecture-series/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">St. John's College website</a></strong>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Formal Lecture Series" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=5&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&amp;sort_dir=d">Items in the St. John's College Formal Lecture Series—Annapolis Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection.<br /><br />A growing number of lecture recordings are also available on the St. John's College (Annapolis) Lectures podcast. Visit <a href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/st-johns-college-annapolis-lectures/id1695157772">Apple Podcasts</a> or <a href="https://open.spotify.com/show/6GDsIRqC8SWZ28AY72BsYM?si=f2ecfa9e247a456f" title="Spotify">Spotify</a> to listen and subscribe. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Title A name given to the resource St. John's College Formal Lecture Series—Annapolis Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context formallectureseriesannapolis Sound A resource primarily intended to be heard. Examples include a music playback file format, an audio compact disc, and recorded speech or sounds. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data wav Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 01:21:56 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 Toward a Revival of the Mixed Constitution Description An account of the resource Audio recording of a lecture delivered on September 16, 2022, by Patrick Deneen as part of the Formal Lecture Series. <br /><br />Mr. Deneen is a professor of Political Science at the University of Notre Dame, where he holds the David A. Potenziani Chair of Constitutional Studies. He is the author of <em>Democratic Faith</em> (Princeton University Press, 2005) and <em>Why Liberalism Failed</em> (Yale University Press, 2018).<br /><br /><span>This lecture is also part of the Steiner Lecture Series, which is made possible by a gift from the Steiner family in memory of Andrew Steiner, an alumnus of the college from 1963. The lecture series was established to bring notable speakers to campus from a variety of disciplines and endeavors, in recognition of Steiner’s intellectual versatility, and for the sake of continued learning.</span> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Deneen, Patrick J., 1964- 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 2022-09-16 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 a recording of my lecture, and retain copies for circulation and archival preservation at the St. John’s College Greenfield Library; make a recording of my lecture available online." Type The nature or genre of the resource sound Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource mp3 Subject The topic of the resource Political science--Philosophy Constitutional history Constitutional history, Ancient Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Macfarland, Joseph C. Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context LEC_Deneen_Patrick_2022-09-16_ac Friday night lecture Steiner lecture https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/ac43c2ffc0e5faed93b9d3084695047d.pdf fdc2be4b1f7827002e0a875d2c004417 PDF Text Text Learning to Flourish: A Philosophical Exploration of Liberal Education Daniel R. DeNicola Gettysburg College (This paper is essentially a distillation of my recent book by the same title. This seems appropriate, not only because—judging from sales—it is unlikely you have read the book, not only because it references St. John’s College, but primarily because it addresses directly the central question of this conference: the purpose of liberal education. From lecturing about these ideas on other campuses, I have, however, learned much that will shape this presentation.) I believe it is mistake to tout liberal education as an ideal, an archetype of education that is defined by specific content (whether by component disciplines, by its curriculum, or by a list of “essentials of cultural literacy”), by distinctive pedagogical methods or techniques, or by institutional type. All these have morphed through history in response to intellectual, social/cultural, and technological changes. To elevate some particular iteration of liberal education as the Platonic ideal is to misunderstand and misdirect both our philosophical and our educational tasks. �2 Rather, liberal education should be understood as a tradition of educational theory and practice—not in the sense of a hoary set of inherited rituals that we must preserve, but as a vital and still-evolving tradition. What distinguishes this tradition from others is its supreme aim: the purpose of liberal education is the development a compelling conception of a flourishing life and the cultivation of such a life. “Flourishing” has both subjective and objective markers. I would identify the subjective markers as a general satisfaction with one’s life as it is and an identification with that life; the objective markers are the possession of the capacities and goods that conduce to and extend the subjective markers. “Flourishing” requires the ability to function with excellence and efficiency in the world. This is a eudaimonistic account developed within the Aristotelian tradition, but I do not wish to carry all of Aristotle’s intellectual baggage. Critics might claim that I am smuggling in the notion of “the good life”—an aristocratic, hegemonic, sexist, and racist view of what life is best; a prescriptive vision that arrogantly assumes the moral and intellectual authority of educators and the righteousness of their efforts. I reject these misunderstandings of my meaning. I do not mean that developing a conception of a flourishing life requires the apprehension of a pre-existing ideal; nor do I imply that there is a single, universal vision of such a life. This goal is an individual achievement, though it affects and is influenced by others, and the result is a diversity of visions. Moreover, the hard-won understanding of flourishing one achieves will likely evolve with life’s passages and later learning—it continues as an infinite task. It �3 is another deeply misconception to assume that the quest for a flourishing life, the well-springs of liberal education, arise only in situations of elite privilege and comfort. Concern for one’s life and its prospects may arise in reflective solitude, amidst crippling poverty, in despair, when resplendent ideals of the good life have been shattered, even after great horror. On the other hand, I do accept the Aristotelian claim that a flourishing life implies sources, supports, arenas, and engagement that are communal. And, as he noted, there is no guarantee that learning to flourish will guarantee a flourishing life; success is contingent on luck and other factors beyond human control. Nonetheless, adopting such an aim governs many aspects of our experience and in so doing shapes our life and identity. Taking seriously the hope of a flourishing life leads immediately to questions about the components of and effective ways to prepare for and cultivate such a life. Grappling with these large questions leads to others: What is the human condition? What are our prospects? Who am I and who might I become? What is my relationship to others and what may I learn from their experience? What can I do in the world? Understanding how we might flourish requires knowledge of what is, what might be, and what ought to be. Navigating this network of profound queries from different vantage points, theorists of liberal education developed what I will call paradigms. These comprehensive visions set polarities in the philosophy of education, establish subsidiary aims, generate forms of educational discourse, inspire curricula, and guide pedagogy. �4 There are, or so I have dscerned, five historical paradigms of liberal education. They are not ordered in revolutionary succession like Kuhnian paradigms; rather they are co-present, competing, and sometimes conflicting. Each paradigm privileges certain intellectual skills and virtues; each proffers a distinctive form of liberation and vision of the educated person; each has its own liabilities. Much of the dynamism of the tradition of liberal education is produced by their shifting dominance and blend. They are all in play today, and most institutions claim to adopt all of them in some distinctive balance. Though they present quite distinct visions of liberal education, I will argue that they ultimately require each other. Here are the five paradigms: Liberal education is for:  the transmission of culture—for the absorption of the human experience as encoded in “texts”;  self-actualization—for the identification, actualization, or creation of a normative self;  understanding the world—for comprehending the facts and forces that shape our lives;  engagement with the world—for active, normative, and effective engagement with the world; and  acquisition of the skills of learning and the disposition to use them. �5 After a brief characterization of each, I will turn to their relationships, and conclude by consideration how this analysis clarifies our task as educators. The Transmission of Culture Culture is not transmitted genetically; it can be preserved across generations only through learning. Both cultural content and its transmission were greatly enhanced by the creation of texts, durable objects that encode human experience. This paradigm harbors the wisdom that absorbing this precious legacy is the best path to a flourishing life, perhaps even a constitutive component of it. More passive interpretations of the paradigm focus on the student’s acquisition of this heritage, and therefore privilege skills of comprehension: reading (and intelligent listening and viewing); attention to detail; proficiency in languages; and the skills of explication. More active versions add the need to comment, analyze, critique, and evaluate—even to join the intertextual conversation and contribute texts in one’s own voice—and they privilege the additional requisite skills. Human finitude necessitates some principle of selection: it is not possible to assimilate all texts. Whether one rejects the label of “great works” or not, criteria of “worthiness” under some interpretation must be applied in creating a curriculum. This is the paradigm that undergirds Whewell’s “permanent studies,” Hutchins’ “Great Books,” Adler’s “Great Ideas,” and Oakeshott’s “Immortal Conversation.”— and the vision of St. John’s College. It portrays the liberally educated person as one �6 who is culturally literate, who knows masterworks and a body of literature, who has facility in multiple languages (symbol systems)—who is, in short, a scholar. This sort of study, its advocates claim, furnishes the mind; its pursuit enlivens the intellect and expands the moral imagination; it is the best strategy for a flourishing life. It offers the student liberation: liberation from a timeless, meaningless, unconstructed present; from parochial prejudice and narrowness of vision; from a solipsistic life. Self-actualization Under this paradigm, liberal education is about the awakening and nurturance of latent capacities and qualities with each student that conduce to a normative self. It is a form of perfectionism. It exhibits subtle variations that intimate metaphysical differences in the conception of the self: its aim may be conceived variously as finding or discovering oneself, as self-definition, self-realization, self-actualization, self-formation, or even self-creation. It all begins, of course, with knowing thyself. What does one get from a liberal education? One gets one’s self, transformed. As Pindar once wrote, “Become who you are.” Thus, liberal learning shapes identity. Self-actualization offers us liberation from confused and imposed identities, from alienation and inauthenticity, from the disappointment of stifled, untested, or suppressed potential. In a flourishing life, one shapes and achieves one’s ownmost possibilities. �7 The curriculum, for this paradigm, is derived not from a canon of treasured works, but from the potential and promise of one’s students. In its most elaborated form, the self and its potential are individuated; in simpler (and more practicable) forms, some more generic notion of the self, of human potential, predominates. It is, nonetheless, a view that recognizes, even celebrates, difference and diversity; the desired educational outcomes are suitably particular. It privileges reflection, selfawareness, and the willingness to go beyond one’s current comfort zone. What may seem to be self-absorption likely gives way as liberal education reveals the social, communal dimensions of self-actualization, of dependence on others—and their selfactualization—for a flourishing life. An educated person is, therefore, one who is accomplished and authentic, continually engaged in explorations of self-development. This is the paradigm of Froebel and Montessori, of institutions like Summerhill and colleges like Bennington, Hampshire, and Evergreen. Understanding the World The focus moves now from the inner life to the outer world: liberal education is aimed at gaining understanding the world in which we live and the forces that shape our lives. It urges us to grasp the world as it is, on its own terms, and not as a projection of our fears and needs; this is a task that has what philosophers call a “mind-to-world direction of fit.” We cannot attempt to create a flourishing life if we are ignorant of how the world works, of the natural and social forces that affect our �8 lives. From our own bodies to the operations of influential institutions, we face the things of this world with wonder, curiosity, care in observation, respect for evidence, perceptivity in theorizing and knowledge-construction—these are among the virtues and skills this paradigm privileges. Success requires far more than the acquisition of facts; we must learn methods of inquiry and acquire cognitive frameworks—and multiples of these are far better than one. The paradigm thus suggests a curriculum that features a breadth of disciplines and seeks integration. The liberation offered here is from superstition, ignorance, and error; and such understanding can have an emotional impact as well, freeing us from reflexive fear and hostility. The vision of the educated person, now idealized as a polymath, is a person with a supple intellect, with broad interest in and knowledge of the ways of the world, the disciplines, and with currency in the natural and social sciences. Engagement with the World The fourth paradigm construes liberal education as a preparation for engagement with and action in the world. (Historically, “the world” has meant the public domain, not often the domestic.) The aim is personal effectiveness—and so it idealizes the educated person as one a committed agent, one who can act effectively and ethically to persuade others, to serve and advance worthy causes—to change the world or to labor in that hope. Civic engagement, social reform, political activism, public service, cultural critique—these and more are activities that are anticipated or �9 often embodied in the educational program. Curricular content devolves from a knowledge and critique of the state of the world in light of one’s values, along with the requisite capacities for personal effectiveness. To become liberally educated is to be liberated from powerlessness, false constraints, and social entropy; from helpless by-standing; to gain freedom of agency, the capacity to shape one’s will to the fulfillment of one’s best judgment, to take a stand and act on behalf of one’s values. This paradigm is exemplified in Isocrates’ school, but also in Antioch College and in the motto of “Princeton in the nation’s service.” Acquiring the Skills of Learning This last paradigm emphasizes the “arts” of “liberal arts” (the artes of artes liberalis; the technai of technai eleutheriai). Here there is less concern with content, more with acquisition of the transferable skills that are useful in learning anything. An educated person is one who has learned how to learn and who has the disposition to use relevant skills in learning throughout a lifetime. Of course, the relevant skills change with technology, but in today’s world we are likely to focus on reading comprehension, quantitative skills, logical reasoning, information literacy, critical thinking, communication and social skills, and related skills. �10 What motivates this paradigm is the recognition that the world is constantly changing, knowledge evolves, memory fades, and we cannot carry the knowledge from the past confidently into the future. We can, however, respond by equipping ourselves with the skills to learn whatever might be salient to a flourishing life. Acquisition of these skills holds out the promise of liberation from becoming outmoded, from cognitive entropy, and the ignorance and uselessness that may follow. The student gains the freedom of self-directed learning. I hope I have conveyed these paradigms as quite distinct, but comprehensive and coherent, visions of liberal education, differing in the skills and virtues they elevate, the locus of the curriculum, their ideals of the educated person, and the form of liberation they offer. Each is attractive, even compelling, but “thin”; they require instantiation, so they each can be a fertile matrix to spawn curricula, to influence pedagogy, even to shape institutions. Many familiar educational controversies arise out of their competition, but conflicts may also arise within a paradigm—for example, disputes over the contents of the canon in the Transmission of Culture paradigm, or disputes about the comparative value of different disciplines in the Understanding the World paradigm. As I said, the tradition of liberal education displays many iterations of theory and practice that reflect their competition, their shifting prominence, and the relationships drawn among them. �11 But they are not simply competitors. Ultimately, they seek the same end. It is perhaps easy to forget that these paradigms arise from the same supreme purpose: the development of a conception of a flourishing life and the cultivation of such a life. And they are intertwined: a vigorous champion of the assimilation of culture through an agonistic encounter with great texts might conclude (as Oakeshott did) by asserting that such study is the pathway to self-actualization. Similarly, an advocate of the skills of learning model may ultimate justify their position by the need for such skills in engaging the world. Beyond this, however, they seem to require each other: the questions each asks leads to the questions of others. How could one engage with the world without understanding it? How could one assimilate great works without the skills of learning? The distinctive liabilities and dangers that each paradigm carries are ameliorated by the strengths of others. For example, the temptation to selfabsorption of the self-actualization paradigm is corrected by the outward and more objective requirements of explicating the texts of others, or of understanding or engaging with the world. The hypnotism of the past that is perhaps a liability of a life devoted to masterworks is countered by the future orientation that undergirds efforts to engage, change, or reform the world. And so on. Most institutions today seem to claim a blend of most if not all these five paradigms; even those that elevate one usually imply that their signature paradigm is a gateway to the benefits of the others. �12 Finally, I want to claim that this account entails that liberal education is a deeply moral enterprise. First, the process of liberal education must meet ethical criteria, such as avoiding indoctrination and valuing the student’s integrity. Second, the supreme aim—a flourishing life—incorporates moral virtues and values. A flourishing life is, however, larger in scope than a moral life; it incorporates more than moral virtues and values. And finally, it is indirectly moral in that success in its subsidiary aims is relevant to, often essential for, moral activity. Expanding the moral imagination, knowing how the world works, seeing the larger picture and broader implications, developing one’s capacities and knowing how to learn, and having the skills of worldly engagement—surely these are components of moral education and enlightened moral agency. An emphasis on objectives and outcomes is meaningful only when our activities remain tethered to our aim. But this brings us to our educational task: each of us—each institution, each academic department, each faculty—carries the responsibility of regularly reinterpreting our vision of liberal education, of continuing the evolution and vitality of the tradition. What is educational quality, what serves the living of a flourishing life today? Each paradigm comprehends a plethora of further specification. Our work is to craft a blended version of these paradigms that suits our our intellectual, social, and technological context. This task itself reflects—and may embody—the process of crafting and cultivating a flourishing life. � 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 "What is Liberal Education For?" 2014 Conference Papers 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 2014-10 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Meem Library has been given permission to make these items available online. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Language A language of the resource English 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. 12 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 Learning to flourish : a philosophical exploration of liberal education Description An account of the resource Paper presented on October 17, 2014 by Daniel DeNicola at What is Liberal Education For? : a conference at St. John's College on the 50th Anniversary of the Santa Fe campus. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource DeNicola, Daniel R. 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 2014-10-17 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 Education, Humanistic Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context 24004526 https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/924796add137ab5c36edcd43f8d1366e.pdf e37b4b15422eb7cf2819d801075b9e76 PDF Text Text �- - --- -·- - ENERGEIA: The activity in which anything is fully itself. ~ ... vou EVEp"fEta ~ro~ . . . (Aristotle's Metaphysics, 1072b) Staff Sara Gama Marie Pelczynski Amy Thurston Senior Editor Douala Dennis Junior Editor Jeff Seidman Faculty Advisor Henry Higuera Special Thanks Tina Davidson Curtis Davis Chris Colby Don Murchak:e Don Smith Energeia is a non-profit, student magazine which is published two times a year and distributed among the students, faculty, alumni and staff of St. John's College, Annapolis and Santa Fe. The Energeia staff welcomes submissions from all members of the community - essays, poems, stories, original math proofs, lab projects, drawings, and the like. �Contents Spring 1992 Truth and Teaching Eva T. H. Brann, Dean 1 Ode to an Hour at Summer's End Thomas Madden, '91 4 Knowledge and the Two Faces of God (Prize-Winning Sophomore Essay) David Walter, '91 5 The Divergence of Acute Angles: A Proof in Absolute Geometry Bryan Dorland, '92 10 Front and back cover photographs by Rakesh Brennig Untitled (photograph) Greg Francke, '92 12 Desktop Publishing and Printing by the St. John's College Print Shop Rex to Wretch: Transfonnation and Riddle in Oedipus Tyrranos (Prize-Winning Freshman Essay) Zena Hitz, '94 13 Nick (photograph) Greg Francke, '92 17 The Day of Picking Melissa Bond, '94 18 From Ambiguity to Epiphany: A Qairvoyant Reading of ''The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" (Prize-Winning Senior Essay) Ange E. Mlinko, '91 20 Untitled (photograph) Rakesh Brennig, '93 29 Animals in Motion: the Flattery of Becoming in Plato's Timaeus (Lecture) Peter Kalkavage, tutor 30 Time the Dominant (photograph) John Dunn, '92 39 Origami David Ruy, '91 40 ''The" Exponential Curve Henry Higuera, tutor 41 Balance (photograph) Jeff Seidman, '93 47 Two Humors (Prize-Winning Preceptorial Essay) Ellen M. Myers, GI '90 48 The Wrath of Aeneas (Prize-Winning Preceptorial Essay) Donna Schueler, GI '89 53 Ricardo J. H. Beall, tutor 60 The Other Face of Darkness J. H. Beall, tutor 61 Angel and Quill (photograph) Nathan J. Humphrey, '93 62 �Truth and Teaching Eva T. H. Brann What is truth? said jesting Pilate; and would not stay for an answer. Certainly there be, that delight in giddiness [cogitationum vertigine], and count it a bondage to fix a belief .... The quotation is from the essay "Of Truth" that heads Bacon's Essays, Civil and Moral (1625). Bacon's borrowing is true to its source, the Gospel of John (18 : 38). Jesus has just spoken to Pontius Pilate of the truth; the Roman says: "What is truth?" and goes out to tell the Jews that he can find no blame in Jesus. He does not impugn the truth of Jesus but truth in general; he does not stay for an answer since he had asked no question. And though we may doubt that the Roman governor took delight in cognitive vertigo, we may well believe that he counted it a bondage to fix his belief. But whatever was Pilate's case, Bacon has given two motives, obverses of each other, for setting truth aside: the positive pleasure in a levitating skepticism and the willful resistance to a settling of the mind. He immediately associates these with lying: But it is not only the difficulty and labor which men take in finding out of truth; nor again that when it is found it imposeth upon men's thoughts, that does bring lies in favor; but a natural though corrupt love of the lie itself. Here we hear in Bacon a voice from a golden time when the proper antithesis of "truth" was "lie" - golden, since every genuine lie confirms the actuality of truth. Our condition is more difficult: the foil of truth now is not falsehood, intended or unintended, but honesty. I. Honesty Honesty, I must argue, though it is a civil and moral virtue, can be an intellectual and pedagogical scourge - both honesty and its even more subjectivized mode, sincerity. I say "even more subjectivized" because it seems to me that there is a cognitive spectrum here: truthfulness is the desire to find the truth and to tell what can be told of it; honesty is a scrupulous determination to say all that one knows and no more; and sincerity is attention to the pure-heartedness of one's meaning. Truthfulness is concerned with what is, honesty with unexceptionable speech, and sincerity with purity of intention. Thus truthfulness pertains to the speaker's accord with the object of knowledge, while honesty involves the candor of the person and sincerity the intimate integrity of the self. Now I am saying that the sophisticated attack on truth mounted so successfully in the last hundred-some years is not in the name of truth - its assailants are too acute for such a logical solecism - but under the banner of painful explicitness and agonized resolve. Think of the personal modes of the two founders of our condition, one in the last and one in this century, Nietzsche and Wittgenstein. Why would one cavil at so noble a cognitive stance? Well, just because it is so centered on the self, so unswervingly bent on public self-examination, so unforgivingly fixed on inner unexceptionableness. Because it puts the self before the world, turns all knowledge into epistemology, is always masterful and rarely receptive. Because it eschews the play that permits wild surmises, the analogies that draws truth from images, even the hypotheses that make contemplation possible. But above all, because this noble and even exquisite way, since it requires a peculiar! y fine and high-strung personal nature of a sort not common in academia, is prone to a particularly racy corruption: while the older philosophies of truth would suffer degradation into rigidity, the contemporary debasements have a galvanic vigor. However, these are descriptions and not analyses, so let me start again. II. Truth What is truth? We too cannot stay for a thorough answer, but there is a least time for a distinction. If the word has any meaning it has at least two: there is truth of being and truth in speaking. The tradition used to be preoccupied with the relation of these two: what things must be like so that they can be told and what speech must be like so that the telling might be true. Let me offer here merely the grossest pedagogical conditions for maintaining the tradition of truth-directed inquiry. Iflearners are to conceive an interest in this activity, they must come across at least some objects that are natural and some opinions that are traditional. If truth-seeking is to have an even chance with them, they must have experience of some things that are grown rather than constructed - trees rather than pylons - and of some beliefs that originate in the community rather than with the intellectuals - faiths rather than theories. Again, if teachers are to guide such a search they need the help of some books that take nature and tradition seriously while they make the discovery and telling of truth their aim. I mention these inchoate points only to show how well I know that the pursuit of truth is not without conditions and presupp0sitions - of the strongest sort. 1 �III. Doubt It is these that the party of honesty throws into doubt. What I want to do now is to sketch out four points of attack on these presuppositions (A), to delineate their noble original versions (B), to characterize their debased outcomes (C), and to offer a saving mean, saving that is, for truth (D). A. 1. Quandaries of knowing 2. Consequences of formalism 3. Disposition of mind 4. Reading of texts c. B. => => => => 1. Perspectival viewings 2. Undecidable propositions 3. Vertiginous positions 4. Hermeneutic problems dogmatic relativism willful suspension settled indifferentism arbitrary construal D. 1. Aspectual inquiries 2. Perennial questions 3. Tensed dialectic 4. Direct reading Let me try to clarify these somewhat opaque rubrics. 1. Cognitive quandaries concerning the possibility of reaching the objects of knowledge go back to antiquity. Protagoras gave them their starkest expression, as reported by Plato: He says that the human being is the measure of all things, of those that are, how they are, and of those that are not, how they are not .... [He says that] as each thing seems to me, such it is for me and as it seems to you, such it is for you. [Theaetetus 151] Strong as this relativism is, it is not total, for there is reference to the things - albeit unknowable - that are, and what is relative is only their perceived quality. It is a modern radicalization that phenomenal aspects might be all there are, that no true thing underlies the perspective views from which individuals construe their mundane and moral solids. This perspectivism is deeper and more complex than the notion that the world is appearance; it involves the claim that the appearances themselves, which to ancient relativists have at least the practical inertness of thingbased variability, might from time to time shift radically and out of all recognition as the human viewpoint shifts, making older knowledge obsolete and inaccessible: Since some temporary trust in science is necessary to modem life, the stabilizing of opinion devolves on society, and the doctrine that wins the apptoval of the social group concerned with it is not, indeed, verified but rather justified. The vulgarized version of cognitive perspectivism and social justification is well known to teachers: it is a dogmatic relativism in which the all-too-comfortable doctrine of the impossibility of principled choice becomes the occasion for succumbing to inarticulate social pressures. 2 The saving mean between surrendering to the sophisticated or succumbing to the debased version of cognitive perspectivism seems to me to be an inquiry beginning very literally, namely with an investigation - even calling to aid some projective geometry - of the "perspective" metaphor, to go on to ask what the world must be like so that it may present views, what society is such that it might serve as the guarantor of opinion and how opinion comes about such that a human being should defer to it. In short, teachers might invite students to a serious program of what I would call "aspectual inquiries." It would amount to a critique of the critique of knowledge, and it would at least recall the presuppositions of truth-seeking to the scene of learning. 2. One of the several sophisticated intellectual discoveries of this century that have been victimized by careless extension is the formal undecidability of certain propositions in arithmetic. (The special theory of relativity is another such.) The highly technical context of the astounding fact of such undecidability is set eagerly aside and hasty application is made to the wide realm of human thought: certain questions are in principle unanswerable and hence there is no point in asking them. The questions so classified are of course those taken up over and over in the history of reflection and supposedly always unanswered. Thus the historical experience appears to coincide with the logical theory, and the permanent suspension of truth-judgement, willing and willful, becomes universal doctrine. I would propose the mediating approach of inquiring into the nature of the putatively perennial questions. What are they? What must one know to pronounce such questions unanswerable? Do questions represented as unanswerable incite effort or induce lassitude? Have the questions themselves endured, or have they changed? Does the questioning activity itself evolve or only its object and context? Does the fact that questions have contesting answers mean that they are unanswered? It seems to me once again that such a regimen of questioning questions would at least make room for the hypothesis of truthseeking. 3. It is an uncontestable part of the contemporary frame of mind to enjoy what Bacon calls the "giddiness" of the liberation from the obligations of truth. For serious thinkers there once was the choice intoxication of rope-dancing over the abyss, of assuming difficult vertiginous positions. The original efforts at retaining balance on the rope and integrity on the knife's edge were fierce and compelled admiration. But more relaxed followers found that falling off was no calamity, that the abyss was a soft bed to all positions, that the hard landing was as yet out of sig?t, and that settled attitudes of light-headed indifference were quite comfortable. It seems to me that there is a third position between the strenuous refusal of all truth and the easy unconcern with any deep issue. It is the tensed condition of actual dialectic, liv~g conversation. It means that teachers help students to find the vital element in many contesting opinions including, of course, the denial of the possibility of truth. It means helping learners to bring the positions to life so that they do not confront each other as petrified neutralizing opposites but respond to each other as moments of thought. And again it may be found that such revivified responsiveness has implications not unfriendly to the hypothesis of truth-finding. 4. Almost all thinking past a certain naive stage, certainly all thinking in institutions of learning, takes place with the aid of books. In the last century certain tricky problems with the interpretation of texts began to be formulated. For instance, it became a concern that every text is written into a context and that the reader needs some prior knowledge to construe the text adequately. Moreover, the reader's own presuppositions were shown to shape readings powerfully. Such hermeneutic insights were eventually pushed to extremes. Books were interpreted not in their context but by their context, authors' personal or social histories were used to nullify their intended communication of truth. The difficulties of getting at"the true text were so recklessly and sophisticatedly exaggerated that the flashy art of creative interpretation began to replace the modest effort to read receptively. A hopeful mean between the subtle difficulties of serious hermeneutics and the inesponsible resolutions of deconstruction, is, I think, an ever-present possibility for students in particular: the direct reading. Teachers of present-day students need expect so little common learning and so few deep-rooted opinions that, if only they succeed in focusing interest on the text, they can almost count on a certain immediacy of reading. In fact, making students face books directly, in amazed alienation, as if they were monoliths just now shot up from the earth, is about the only practical beginning I can think of. It also happens to offer the fairest chance for the truth-telling claims that most serious books make. I do not of course mean that the teaching of truth, its knowledge and belief, will become fashionable in academia. That would be worse than the near-universal suspicion of the possibility of truth-telling we live with now. What we may rather be ready for is a revival of the inclination to seek being and of the presuppositions that make "the inquiry of truth, which is the love-making and wooing of it," again a respectable enterprise. But why wait for that? ****** [Y]et truth, which only doth judge itself, teacheth that the inquiry of truth, which is the love-making or wooing of it, the know ledge of truth, which is the presence of it, and the belief of truth, which is the enjoying of it, is the sovereign good of human nature. ["Of Truth"] That the finding, having, and enjoying of truth is the highest good - that is the teaching of truth itself for Bacon, though for recent generations the proposition has become systematically dubious. Yet we may not be in the worst position for a revival of the hypothesis of truth-seeking. There is a zest in destructive doubt for the several generations that are still supported by the learning, the faith and the tradition they are opposing. But when the branch on which the destructionists sit is finally sawn through, then there may well come a moment of grasping for the trunk itself, a wish to find something to hold on to. We may possibly be at such a juncture. 3 �Ode to an Hour at Summer's End Knowledge and the Two Faces of God Thomas Madden St. Thomas, the Church, and Aristotle David Walter Ah, in Shakespeare's garden there was surprise: diamonds scattered among the leaves, and stars perched, pregnant, atop grass-blades. She and I we both could see the rain as a benediction. It was to be our last night, and the rain had come - a mother's hand upon a fevered brow, the breath of a promise. Giddy with the air's approval, we chased after a wrong turn and walked into sudden, cultivated vibrancies of shadow. The shape of a garden stands and grows, and restores wine of memory to a shattered heart. A steeple's cap kept watch in the curtained sky. And we came to a fountain, and accepted the consciousness represented in the winding of a wet branch. I danced over flagstones trying to find expression as this moment, this season, this year all melted - resolved into the seal of forever. Awake to the measure of the dream, her fingertip's gesture across my lips never said goodbye. We never gave a name to our desire. 4 Preface The Church, in the time of St Thomas, was very conservative. Seeking to preserve their authority, church members were very wary of writings, both ancient and modern, which threatened the vitality of its written Creed. Certain writings were altogether condemned as heretical works, while the writings of others were considered dubious and held under close scrutiny. Such were the writings of Aristotle. Aristotle's writings were accessible to intellectuals at that time, because he was considered to be primarily a natural philosopher. Aristotle was concerned with the causes of natural events. He traced events logically to God as a First Cause. Thomas Aquinas found Aristotle's logic very compelling, and very pertinent to his Christianity. Although there were certain subjects on which Aristotle and the Church disagreed (such as whether or not the universe had been created), Thomas thought that he could incorporate the Aristotelian philosophy to suit the demands of the Church dogma. It remains to be seen whether Aristotle himself would have approved of the mysteries of the Church, which are not according to reason, but according to tradition based on revelation. Nevertheless, given what Aristotle left in writing, Thomas enthusiastically set out to found a theology, based on Aristotle's philosophical thought. The question of his success will be considered in part in this paper. ***** For St. Thomas Aquinas.knowledge is concerned with things as they appear to us. The method of science, by which we gain knowledge, begins with the appearance, or the thing as sensed (The Summa Theologica I, 12, A12). The sensible world constitutes our primary "reality." What is "real" to us is the particular object of sense - the entity existing apart from all other entities. The intellect seeks to know the "causes" of a particular thing, by abstracting universals from that thing. Hence, our knowledge of universals, while not given, is inferred from our perception. Consequently, we are born with no prior knowledge or understanding of universals; we gain such knowledge or understanding through a process of inference from repeated individual experiences. Of course, Thomas' view that we come to know about things through first having sensed them is not the only possible one. We know of others, most prominently Plato, who posit a reality apart from sense perception. Thomas, presumably aware of other possible view points, such as that of Plato, chose this characteristically "Aristotelian" epistemology. It seems to be a curious choice, in some respects, because it results in limitations in talking about God. We get knowledge about things from our interaction with them, and the problem lies herein: we have no direct interaction with a transcendental God.We only know Him through His "effects"(!, 1, A8, rep.1). We are separate from Him because of our "mode" of being - separate in action, and separate in speech: "Nothing temporal can be in God, for He is above time"(I,13,A7). On the other hand, the Scriptures, especially the Old Testament, depict a God who has an intimate relationship with creatures. He speaks directly to them. In short, Thomas' choice limits the knowledge we can have of God; and these limitations seem to bar the type of intimate interaction between God and creatures presented to us in the Scriptures. At first glance, Thomas' choice seems to present us with an irreconcilable conflict between the impersonal God of Aristotelian logic, and the very personal God of the Scriptures. The Aristotelian God spends all His eternity thinking about Himself. He does not involve Himself in our ethical struggles. The Scriptural GodisaLaw-giver, andaLaw enforcer. He has an undying devotion to His people. The two concepts appear antithetical. But there is a subtle strategy underlying Thomas' choice. On the one hand, Thomas wants to show how the Christian faith can increase and perfect our scientific knowledge. But also Thomas wants to show us the limits of scientific know ledge, inasmuch as recognizing such limits reinforces our faith. Faith perfects knowledge; knowledge reinforces faith. The Aristotelian epistemology yields concrete limitations, which Thomas can exploit. Working from the Aristotelian assumptions themselves, we can subsume the Aristotelian epistemology into the Christian doctrine. We can make it conform. In natural science, we reason from abstractions of particular events, to conclusions about those particular events, by means of demonstration from first principles inferred from experience. Sciences are differentiated because different classes of knowledge deal with different classes of events. The physicist deals with physical objects; the mathematician deals with mathematical objects; the metaphysician deals with metaphysical objects. These are formal objects, two of which may inhere in the same body, in different respects. Each of the respective classes of objects is abstracted from the real objects of sense. Reason classifies these objects, and investigates them according to the first principles of demonstration. But, what if the object of our knowledge is God? Is God abstracted from objects of sense? It is not possible to classify God as we classify mathematical objects. When we classify a thing, we give it a definition according to its essence, or nature. But we cannot do this with God. We do not know His essence. We have no direct experience of God through our senses. However, we are aware of Him indirectly, through His effects. Hence, because of our mode of knowing, which is grounded in the senses, we (natural scientists) can only see Him as if through a mirror; as in the saying from I Car.xiii: "We see now through a glass in a dark manner," a favorite quote of Thomas'. Nevertheless, as natural scientists, drawing our principles from natural reason, we are able to know some things about God. 5 �For instance, that He exists can be demonstrated in His absence, from His natural effects. Now one of His effects is motion. So, if we are able to ascertain the essence, or nature (formal quality) of the event of motion, and then to apply to it our first principles of reason (cause and effect, non-contradiction, impossibility of infinite regress), and arrive at a conclusion, then this constitutes a demonstration. The demonstration will allow us to arrive at a primary source of motion, i.e., the First Mover. And we may ·"understand"(!, 2, A3) this First Mover to be God, in the sense that we identify God as the First Cause of motion. But knowledge of the fact that God exists (as a First Mover, as a Primary Efficient Cause, as necessarily always existent, as Greatest in Being, as Supreme Intelligence) is not enough for the theologian. He is interested in God "not only so far as He can be known through creatures just as philosophers know Him ... but also so far .as He can be known to Himself alone and revealed to others" (I, 1, A6). The theologian is interested in uncovering particular truths concerning the nature of God. But in order to obtain a fair amount of such truths, he needs more than what he can gather from his senses. Since he does not have the capacity to discover knowledge of the supersensible on his own, it must needs be given to him immediately, by God, through revelation. The Scriptures and the Articles of Faith contain principles revealed directly by God. Man is directed to God as to an end that surpasses the grasp of his reason ... But the end must first be known by men who are to direct their intentions and actions to the end. Hence it was necessary for the salvation of man that certain truths should be made known to him by divine revelation.(I, 1, Al) And this gift of revelation christens a new science - the divine science. The Articles of Faith are "given" to the theologian (divine scientist) just as, say, the mathematical objects (points and lines) are given to the geometer; or as the physical objects (stars and planets) are given to the astronomer. And they are as certain to the Christian as any of the things we perceive by means of sense. As a formal body of objects the Articles of Faith have relationship to one another that is rational, as do all the other objects of science. We can infer principles from them, just as the natural scientist infers . principles from his particular class of objects, by virtue of their being formally classified. Just as music accepts on authority the principles taught by the arithmetician, so sacred doctrine accepts the principles revealed by God. (I, 1, A2) So the divine science obtains its principles primarily from a divine source (revelation), and only secondarily from a natural source (reason). This is what separates Thomas' science from the strictly natural theology of others (Aristotle, for example). Our knowledge of God may be confined to what we can know of Him through His effects, but Thomas finds compensation for this: God gives us a special set of effects manifest in the Scriptures, and in the Articles of Faith. They are certain, in that they have been revealed to the Christian by God. This gives the theologian a great advantage over the strictly natural scientists. It allows him to infer certain principles which cannot otherwise be obtained by the scientist (such as that God is both three and one). These principles taken from the body of the divinely revealed texts are the highest principles available to man. They deal with the acts of the Christian in respect to the First Truth, God (II, 1, Al). Theology, which considers such acts which terminate in God, presides over all other sciences, which consider only natural acts. He who considers absolutely the highest cause of the whole universe, namely God, is most of all called wise. (I, l,A6) But what happens when we treat the Articles of Faith as objects of science? As canons of faith, they are primarily to be believed. In what sense do they invite our knowledge of them? To answer this, Aquinas makes the distinction between what we believe, and how we believe it. What we believe is a reality. We imagine the object of our belief to exist. Like every real object we perceive, it exists singularly. Existence is in the individual thing. But we are compelled to represent that belief as a proposition; just as when I say "this giraffe is an animal," as if there were two entities, when, in fact, there exists to my eyes only one. Consider the object of faith from its two perspectives. First,from the perspective of the reality believed in, and then the object of faith is something non-composite, i.e. the very reality about which one has faith. Second, from the perspective of the one believing, and then the object of faith is something composite in the form of a proposition. (II, 1, A2; emphasis added) The thing believed is simple (non-composite). The believer expresses his belief in a composite manner. He divides the thing believed into components of a proposition, as he is accustomed to do with objects. A proposition about a thing distinguishes between the thing and its essence: the predicate signifies a part of the essence of the subject. A proposition is composite. To make things clear to ourselves, we may distinguish between (1) the reality provided by the act of faith: "I believe in God eternal;" and (2) the proposition which signifies the reality: "God is eternal" (c.f. II, 1, A2, ob.2). The only way we get knowledge of a real thing put before us (1) is to predicate essential qualities of that thing (2). This necessary operation is the restriction occasioned by our own mode (modus proprius humani) of knowing (II, 1, A2). Thus, if the object of faith is to be considered by theology just as the real thing we sense is to be considered by science, then we need to understand the object of faith as we understand the things we sense - in the form of a predication. As an object of belief, the Article is self-evident. As an object of knowledge, the Article is not self-evident. With respect to the mode of the knower/believer, a principle is only self-evident if it is "seen," i.e. if it is inferred from perception (II, 1, AS). Now, the reality signified by the Articles of Faith is not seen by us only imagined. The principles derived from the Articles (such as, that God exists) are self-evident from the standpoint of that reality. But that is not a reality which we see. Clearly, then, no belief or opinion can have as object things seen, whether by sense or by intellect. (II, 1, A4) We only believe in it. The angels, who see higher things than us, may actually see that which we only take on faith ; c.f. II, 1, AS. Therefore, the divine principles revealed by the Articles of Faith are self-evident only from the perspective of the reality represented in our belief. In turn, any proposition found in the Articles is evident with respect to the divine principles obtained from the Articles. It follows that it (the proposition) is not evident with respect to the natural principles (or "seen" principles) which we obtain through experience. Therefore, in order that the proposition be of knowledge to us, it needs to be made clear, apodictically, in terms of principles which are evident to us through sense ("seen" principles). The task of the theologian, then, is not to demonstrate the Articles of Faith per se, but to make them clear to us in tenns of our natural knowledge of things. He shows that in principle, they do not contradict one another; for the principles revealed by the Articles of Faith will not fail the test oflogic. It is very important to understand that the Articles do not compromise themselves to science; they maintain their divine status. Man ... ought to believe matters of faith, not because of human reasoning, but because of divine authority . (II, 2, AlO) Each Article has a reality all its own, which is manifest in the act of belief. The act of belief is simple (non-composite). The process of knowledge is complex, because the believer is complex. The way the known exists in the knower corresponds to the way the knower knows ... the way of knowing truth proper to the human mind is by an act of combining and separating. For this reason the human mind knows in a composite way things that are themselves simple [i.e. non-composite]; this is quite the opposite of the divine mind, which in a non-composite manner knows things that are themselves composite. (II, 1, A2; emphasis added) Knowing involves "combining and separating." The intellect understands the Articles as (composite) propositions, just as the intellect understands the objects of sense as (composite) propositions. These propositions may be brought forth and verified by demonstration from logical principles. As has been mentioned earlier, concerning all t~ings, it should be understood that when we are talking about the thing as a real and particular being, and again, about that thing in its formal sense, as the object of science, we are not talking about two different things. Rather, we are talking about two different senses of the same thing. The formal thing has no separate existence apart from the particular being. It is abstracted from that being. As rational creatures, we must make predications concerning abstractions of the individual thing. This is in order to have actual knowledge of that thing which is "given" to us either sensibly, or supersensibly. As is clear from its language, the Creed expresses the things of not have a proposition as its term, but a reality, since, just as with scientific knowledge, so also with faith, the only reason for formulating a proposition is that we may have knowledge about the real. (II, 1, A2, r2) As has been stated, knowing is a process of combining and separating. And it is in this necessary operation that theology justifies itself. The Articles of Faith exist simply in the Christian attitude. But in order to bring them down into our domain of knowing, we consider each as it predicates something of God's essence. As the mediator between ourselves and the divine principles, theology secures its role as the highest of sciences. And, more importantly for Thomas, it insures the pre-eminence of revelation. Science does not tread on God's territory. Faith forms the body of Thomas' theology. Faith is a simple act, unquestioned. But this gift of belief makes it possible for the scientist who believes, as one would trust his senses, to know principles about God which the natural scientist could not discover on his own (such as that God is both three and one, c.f.I, 12, 13), and to formulate propositions from these principles concerning the complex points of faith. The topic of knowledge has to be discussed in more detail. It was said that the thing believed is non-composite. But it is expressed in terms of the believer, as a proposition which is composite: "God is eternal." A proposition can be demonstrated, and thereby it is known. Thus, God is believed in some respects, and known in others. In order to see more precisely what, according to Thomas, is our relationship with God, we have to ask, "What does it mean for a thing to become known?" "How do we know it?" We can only know things that are by nature composites of form and matter. When we sense, we sense that particular thing, which exists apart from all others. Now, a particular thing consists of a form which is individuated in matter. Form and matter make up the object that we sense. We take the step towards knowledge of that thing by abstracting from it its form . That is to say, we differentiate between the thing in particular, and its essence, or formal quality. We categorize it. The form makes it intelligible to us. To abstract from a thing is to "inform" ourselves of that thing, quite literally(c.f. I, 12, AIO). We replace its matter existing outside of us with "matter" in our minds. Hence, the thing becomes whole again in the mind - wholly composed of its abstracted form, and the "mental matter" we provide for it. Thus, "Each thing is known in so far as its likeness is in the one who knows" (I, 12, AIO). The thing becomes "reproduced," as it were, conceived of form and matter in the mind. A form on its own is not known or sensed by us. The mind is always housing it in matter of its own. As has been said above, form can never be "stripped" from the object itself. It always exists in conjunction with the thing particular to it. In short, we are able to know something because it (like ourselves) is composite of matter and form. faith as they are the term of the believer's act. Such an act does 6 7 �Our soul, as long as we live in this life, has its being in corporeal matter; hence naturally it knows only what has a form in matter, or what can be known by such a form. (I, 12, Al 1) Things which are not individuated in matter (non-composite things) are not suited to be informed in the mind. We do not have the capability to conceive them in our minds. Form is intelligible only in conjunction with matter. God is pure form, and contains no matter; so He is unsensible and unknowable by us. We depend on the compositness of a thing in order to know it. God is non-composite (I, 3, A2). We depend on differentiation between a thing and its essence. In God there is no such differentiation (I, 3, A3). He is the same as His essence. Hence, we cannot comprehend His pure form: "God cannot be seen in His essence by a mere human being, except he be separated from His mortal life" (I, 12, All). We cannot inform ourselves of Him; so no likeness of Him can exist in our minds. To know God, we would have to be Him. This is obviously impossible, since He is a purely transcendental being. Consequently, we only know of Him through sense experience, with the help of principles given by revelation. What do we know of Him? That He is simple, that He is eternal. The reason can know that a simple form is, even though it cannot attain to understanding what it is. (I, 12, 12, rl) But we can only express these qualities of Him "by way of temporal things, because our intellect has a natural proportion to composite and temporal things" (I, 13, 1, r.3). We know Him as everything natural and sensible is ordered to Him; as far as every natural event we perceive can be traced to Him as a permanent and unchanging Cause. How, then, is it possible to speak of Him as having changing relationships with creatures, or having conversations with them? "Moses asked 'If they should say to me, What is His name? What shall I say to them?' the Lord answered him, 'Thus shalt though say to them, HE WHO IS hath sent me to you"'(I, 13, All, from Exd. iii). How is it possible to say that He was speaking with Moses at one time, and not speaking with him at another, when, according to Thomas "God is above time" (I, 13, A7)? In general, how are we to reconcile the logical God of Aristotle with the God who appears in Scripture, as giving commands, or the God who handed down the Articles of Faith in written words? Can God dictate? We have, broadly speaking, answered this question. There are some things which we cannot, and were not meant to know concerning God and his mysteries. Our mode of knowing prevents us from passing beyond a certain point of comprehension. If we could know these mysteries, then faith would no longer be meritorious (I, 1, A8). The challenge for the theologian is to come up with some logical, or analogical explanation of our particular relationship with God. Thomas wants to "place" himself, and hence his new-found science in a proper relation to God. He has to try to give an account of this relationship with God in tenns that we can understand. 8 In Article seven of Question thirteen of the Summa Theolo gica, Thomas addresses this matter concerning our proper relationship with God. To follow his discussion, we must first make clear what a relationship is. Thomas gets his notions of relationship directly from Aristotle's Metaphysics, Book Delta, section 15. For Aristotle, it seems that a relationship is not something which subsists outside the things related. It exists in each of the terms. This will become clear as we go on. It must be understood for now that if we define a relationship between two things, then we say "x is related to y," and "y is related to x", not simply "x and y are related." We always consider a relationship from the point of view of its distinct components. Thomas proceeds to expound the different possibilities for a relationship based on what Aristotle has set up for him. The singular component of a relationship may have a relation to the other component (assuming still we have only two terms) which is only in thought, or it may be an actual "real" relation which inheres in the thing itself. Hence, there are three types of relationships which are possible, according to Thomas. The first is a strictly mental coupling of two terms, in which each has to one another a relation because of some trick of the intellect: such as identity - mentally reproducing one thing we can say "the same is the same as itself'; or extrapolation - such as the relation of a "thing" to "nothing," which involves mentally conceiving a negative term; or selection - whereby the intellect pictures a set and a subset, a genus and a species, etc. None of these relations are formed in reality, but only in thought. The second type is an actual "real" relation between two terms, because there is something common to both in reality. Quantity is given as an example as that which inheres in each of the objects themselves. The "being bigger than" and the "being smaller than" are "really" related to one another because they share the sensible property of magnitude. So with "being double" and "being half." The "being what is changed" and the "being what changes" are "really" related because they both share in a real causal action. This dichotomy between what is "real" and what is only an idea may seem to be an artificial and confusing distinction to some, but it really conforms to Thomas' notion that primary reality is in the thing sensed. Thinking refers to internal operations. The mind can think up relationships between things which do not inhere in nature and are outside of sense. The third possible relationship is the one Thomas is most interested in. It is the hardest to understand, because it relies on the clear distinction between "real" things and ideas. Thomas also discusses this relationship in his commentaries on the Metaphysics, which is the source of the notion as far as I can tell (c.f. Commentaries on the Metaphysics, V. L.17: c 1001-1032). I will try to point out the main tenets of this crucial relationship as Thomas explains it in Article 7, question 13 of the Summa. A relationship may occur in which one of the components has a real relation to the second; but the second does not have a real relation to the first. This is the case, Thomas says, with the "being knowable" and the "knowing." As we have explained, when something is known, a likeness of it is created in the mind; it itself remains outside the domain of knowing. Hence, the "being knowable" itself has no real relation to the knowing, but from the perspective of the "knowing," there is a real exchange taking place between it (the "knowing") and the "being knowable." The relation qualifies as "real" from the standpoint of the "knowing," because the "being known" is external to it. It is not merely a relation in thought, it is a genuine interaction. Hence, the knowing has a "real" relation to the knowable. To repeat: taking separately our two terms: From the perspective of the "knowing," there is areal relation between itand the "being knowable." From the perspective of the "being knowable," there is no real relation between it (the "being knowable") and the "knowing," but only in thought. So, when we think about something, or when we sense something, the relationship betWeen us and the thing can change. But the thing does not change in itself, as a result of our thinking . it, or sensing it. It only changes from our perspective, with respect to our change. As we move and change, we have a real relation with the external object. As the object neither moves nor changes in reaction to our change, it has no relation with us at all. The pillar, standing still, is at one time "on the right" because of my relation to it. Then I turn around, and it is "on the left." This is due to no change in the pillar. The situation applies analogically to the relationship between God and temporal creatures. God, unchanging, is at one time "speaking with Moses," we say, because Moses is being spoken to; then Moses is not being spoken to - so we say God is not speaking to him. There has been no "real" change in God, as we well know - only in Moses. God's temporal relations to creatures are in him only because of our way of thinking of him, but the opposite relations of creatures to him are realities in the creatures. It is quite admissible to attribute a relation to God because of something that takes place in the creature, for we cannot express the reality in creatures without talking as though there were matching relations also in God, so that God is said to be related to a creature because the creature is related to him, just as, according to Aristotle, the knowable is said to be related to knowledge because knowledge is related to it. (I, 1, 13, r4) knowing Him. Yet from our standpoint, we have a relation to Him sine qua non, as created beings, as recipients of salvation, as lorded beings, as beings who are moved. And from our standpoint, His relation as Creator, Savior, Lord, Mover, is real. It is the relationship of lordship in him that is supplied by our minds, not the fact of His being Lord. (I, 1, 13, r5) Hence, he "really" is the Creator, Savior, Law-giver, and Mover, as we are all ordered in respect to Him; also though, He really is the unmoved transcendent God, who is ordered only in respect to Himself. Out of Thomas' rational account of the relation between creatures and God, God emerges startlingly as both impersonal, and personal, as unmoved, and mover, God of philosophy, and God of the Scriptures. The two-faced God that Thomas set out to reconcile has turned-out to be none other than Aristotle's Unmoved Mover. Thomas' argument in defense of the active God of the Scriptures is drawn directly from Aristotle's formal discussion of relations in book delta of the Metaphysics (ch. 15). This gives it incredible weight. Using the Aristotelian assumptions of how a thing is known, Thomas manages to justify (analogically) his relationship with the Christian God. Of course, due to our knowledgeable limitations, it is impossible for Thomas to provide an explanation in logical terms of how the transcendental God speaks to us - that would imply the contradiction of knowing God's essence. Itis just the nature of God to transcend such logic. This has been Thomas' assumption all along. If God were not what He is (absolutely unknowable), theology could not subsist as Thomas wants it. However, if we accept Thomas' analogical argument, based on Aristotle's naturally-founded assumptions, then we have thoughtfully reconciled the problem of the two notions of God - the one which falls under the Aristotelian epistemology, and the one which falls under the Christian dogma. Which is what we have set out to show. The reasons which are brought forward in support of the authority of faith are not demonstrations which can bring intellectual vision to the human intellect; and so the unseen is not removed. But they remove obstacles to faith, by showing that what faith proposes is not impossible; and hence such reasons do not diminish the merit or the measure of faith. (II, 2, AlO, rep.2) The only real relations which exist in God are those that are predicated of Him eternally, insofar as He exists outside the domain of sense and knowledge. As He is portrayed as having anything to do with creatures in the temporal world, there is no relation in Him to us. We "import" this relation, because it is impossible for us to conceive of having a real relation with something which has no relation to us. He exists independent of us, just as the "being known" exists outside of knowledge. To recount our analogy: from the standpoint of the "knowing," knowledge does not exist apart from the "being known." From the standpoint of the "being known," it (the "being known") does exist apart from knowledge. So, from the standpoint of God, who exists absolutely outside our knowledge, He has absolutely no relation to us, not even in our sensing and 9 �The Divergence of Acute Angles: A Proof in Absolute Geometry Bryan Dorland I suppose we all went through the same test in our first semester at St. John's. "Can you independently prove Euclid's fifth postulate?" asked our devious tutor, all the while knowing full well that the task is impossible from within merely plane geometry. Euclid was not being coy when he "asked" ('Ht't~aeco let it have been asked) for the fifth. He seems wiser, in retrospect, than that legion of geometers which followed him who thought it necessary to prove the fifth. Lobachevski reveals why this is so. The positive form of the postulate is logically simultaneous, not posterior, to plane geometry. Lobachevski's Theorem 22 represents the resolution to the problem of parallelism as a decision the geometer must make. The geometrical road has come to a fork. Either the angle of parallelism 1 is rt/2, or it is less. If we take the former path, we will arrive at the plane geometry of the Elements, and if we choose the latter, we will enter the realm of the imaginary. Euclid has truly "asked" us to journey with him by granting him the positive form of the Fifth Postulate. Similarly, we grant the specific negative form (i.e. the angle of parallelism is less than rt/2) to Lobachevski, and we leave the well traveled path to follow him. We are not forced to make this choice at the outset of the journey. We may choose to linger on that stretch of road which leads up to the fork. Here, every property we discover must prove true later, regardless of where we go, for the discoveries here must not make any assumptions regarding parallelism. This region has a name - it is the realm of absolute geometry. Any geometrical property we discover should fall into one of three categories. It should either be true in plane geometry and false in imaginary, false in plane and true in imaginary, or true in both. A property in either of the first two categories should involve specific assumptions about the angle of parallelism, while one from the third should be free from such strictures. This is to say that a geometrical property true for both systems must properly belong to absolute geometry. Or should it? The problem of the limitless divergence of acute angles presents itself to us as paradigm. In a Euclidean formulation (vid. fig. 1), the problem is sufficiently self-evident as to not require a proposition. If I call BC the distance between lines BA and AC (which form some acute angle at A), it is clear that I may increase this distance beyond any limit. Extend AB to AB', drop the perpendicular to C' on AC extended, and B 'C' will be in the same ratio to BC as AB' is to AB. Because I can construct increasingly larger, yet similar triangles , I may exceed any limit for B'C' by sufficient augmentation of AB'. This demonstration relies on specific properties of triangles whose lineage may be traced to the angle of parallelism. These properties are not present in imaginary geometry, and we know from Lobachevski 's 23rd Theorem that Euclid's similar triangle construction is specific to plane geometry. The "Non-Euclidean Geometry" manual we use in the ~enior year presents a proof for the boundless divergence which is specific to imaginary geometry. We have a problem: the divergence seems to be a property in both systems, while at the same time being specific to both. Is this possible? Are there some properties which are not absolute, but true in both systems? 2 If the unbounded divergence of the sides of an acute angle can be shown without recourse to parallelism, then it is a property of absolute geometry. This is what I shall show. Proposition: The sides of an acute angle diverge without limit. d' >1.D 2 C'E=D B'F= B'E c Fig.1 C' If in the quadrilateral ABCD, the angles at A, B, and Care right, then the side DC must equal or exceed the side AB. 1. Here I use Lobachevski' s formulation. By the angle of parallelism, I mean the angle a formed with a first line when a transverse cuts a second line with aright angle~. i.e.: 2. The system of absolute geometry is posited as comprehending two subsystems - euclidean and non-euclidean. Now if a property can be found which is proper to both subsystems yet not to the system itself, then the existence of more subsystems, for which the property does not hold, is implied. But in his Theorem 19, Lobachevski argues that there are only the two subsystems. Hence the problem. 3. This means properties which can be established without recourse to the angle of parallelism. Examples of such properties are propositons 1 through 28 of the "Elements", and Lobachevski's Theorems 1 through 22. 4. I can say by Euclid I.26 that if D is a boundary, it must be a member of the class of distances which d can never attain. In other words, D cannot be the greatest distance for d, but must always exceed d. Therefore to solve the reductio, I need only show that d can equal D. 5. In a systematic treatment of absolute geometry, the lemma would take the form of a proposition and would appear prior to the acute angle proposition. It is included here as a lemma because it is necessary to the main proof. B' a B G F Fig.3 d A c d" d' C' D J Fig.2 A Lemma5 quadrilateral ABCD, the sum of the angles exceeds 2rt, or four right angles, which is impossible. [This follows from Lobachevski Theorm 19.] Therefore the side CD can not fall short of AB. H E B' B distance which distanced will neither meet nor exceed. 4 Extend AB to B' such that the perpendicular B 'C', or d', is greater than 1/2 D. Extend C'B' to point E so that C'E equals D. Cut off on B 'C' some length B 'F equal to B'E. Erect from point F some line FG perpendicular to EC' at F. FG will fall on AB' at some point other than either of the vertices [Lobachevski Theorem 4]. From point E, erect some line EH equal to FG and perpendicular to EC'. Connect B' to H with a straight line. By construction, lines FB' and FG equal lines B'E and EH respectively. The angles at E and Fare both right. Therefore triangle B 'EH is congruent to triangle B 'FG and angle a equals angle ~- Therefore line AB' lies evenly with line B'H, so AH must be line AB' extended to H [Euclid I .13]. From H, drop some line HJ perpendicular to AC. The angle EID can not exceed the angle at E [Lobachevski Theorem 19], therefore EC' can not exceed HJ [vid. lemma]. Distance HJ is d' '. Thus some d'' has been found which is either equal to or greater than the limit D, which was supposed impossible. Therefore there is no limit to the divergence of the lines which constitute an acute angle. Given line AB meets line AC at some acute angle, it is necessary to prove that the distance between the two lines grows without bounds according to the precepts of absolute geometry. 3 From some point B on AB let fall a perpendicular to AC [Euclid 1.12]. This distance shall be called d. Let there be some other distance D which bounds the divergence, i.e. D is the least If not, let DC be less than AB. Extend CD to CD' such that CD' equals AB. Draw straight lines AC, BD'. CD' was constructed equal to AB, the right angle at B equals the right angle at C and BC is common. Therefore triangle ABC is congruent to triangle D'CB and AC equals BD' [Lobachevski Theorem 10]. Draw the common line AD '. Therefore triangle BAD' is congruent to triangle CD' A [ibid.], and angle BAD' equals angle AD'C. Angle D'AB is greater than rt/2, so AD'C must also be greater. But angle ADC is greater than AD'C [Euclid 1.16], so angle ADC must be much greater than rt/2. Therefore in the 10 11 �Rex to Wretch: Transformation and Riddle in Oedipus Tyrannos Zena Hitz 1H0o<; au0pro1tro Oatµoru. -Heraclitus,frg.1211 Sophocles' Oedipus Tyrannos is a play fundamentally composed of opposites and motions between them. The principal motion, of course, is the transformation of Oedipus from king to wretched old man, but contained within that are many more: sight becomes blindness, ignorance becomes knowledge, hubris becomes humility, master becomes suppliant, foreigner becomes native. The play consists of a series of scenes in which Oedipus is set up against people of varying positions and objectives, and through dialogue the character underlying these transfonnations is gradually and subtly drawn out. The play also involves a series of riddles that are like nested boxes, beginning with the solving of the Sphinx's riddle, ending with the solving of Oedipus' riddle, and leaving us, circularly, with the first one again: the riddle of the nature of man. Is man recmsive; do all of his actions eventually fall back on himself? Is he merely bronze for the sculpting hands of the gods? Is he a victim of a world of blind chance, his will meaningless? This paper will analyze the transformations and reversals within the play to try to get at their meaning in the context of these questions. The most external change that occurs in Oedipus is his loss of sight. He calls out as he strikes out his eyes with Jocasta's brooches: "They [his eyes] will never see the crime I have committed or had done upon me! Dark eyes, now in the days to come look on forbidden faces, do not recognize those who you long for!" (1271)2. He seems to be avoiding the horror of the visual recognition of his crimes (namely, his children) - a futile task, since mental recognition is quite enough to send him raving in disgust. The relation between vision and knowledge is taken to its full metaphorical extent in the dialogue between Teiresias and Oedipus. That scene involves a complex interplay of physical vision, that is, the vision for which one uses one's eyes, and supernatural vision, with which one derives information beyond normal human perception. Teiresias, physically blind, proclaims that he sees the truth, that he knows the answer to the riddle of the ,plague. Oedipus, eyes in full working order, denies that answer, opposing his own riddle-solving powers as demonstrated by his conquest of the Sphinx to those of Teiresias: "I solved the riddle by my wit alone. Mine was no knowledge got from birds" (398). He repeatedly tries to discredit Teiresias' vision, asking first why he could not answer the Sphinx's riddle and, after the prophet leaves, why, if his accusation is correct, he did not speak sooner. Teiresias answers neither of these ques1translated "A man's character is his daemon." Untitled Greg Francke 12 2Unless otherwise marked, all translations are by David Grene, University of Chicago Press, 1954. tions, but merely spouts more riddles: ''This day will show your birth and will destroy you" (438), and "You have your eyes but see not where you are" (413). Although to the reader familiar with the myth the meaning of these riddles is painfully obvious, to Oedipus they are bewildering: "How needlessly your riddles darken everything" (439). This line shows a particularly interesting reversal: Teiresias, who offers the first answer to theriddle of the plague, instead of shedding light on the question so that Oedipus can see for himself what the answer is, rather darkens it, answering riddle with riddle. It may seem as if Oedipus is stupid for not seeing the truth; however, Teiresias never once states that Oedipus either married his mother or killed his father, let alone showing a circumstance in which that could have occurred, but only says that he killed Laius after Oedipus demands that he clarify his first answer. Even then the answer is cryptic: "You are the murderer of the man whose murderer you seek" (363). By the end of the scene, Oedipus is not only clearly blind to his origin, but blind to his blindness as well. Rather than being convinced of his own guilt, he is convinced of the guilt of someone else. This discrepancy between what he should know and what he does not is a principle irony of the play. It is a reversal explicitly connected with sight: at the end of the play, when he sees the truth of where he is, he blinds himself, crying out that he wishes to avoid his crimes but actually confronting and answering his own previous blindness to them. The reversal of sight and knowledge is also demonstrated when Creon presents the riddle of Laius' murder to Oedipus at the beginning of the play. Oedipus responds to the name, although Creon has posed no question, with "I know of him by hearsay. I have not seen him" (105). In his attempts to solve the murder, he first inquires of an oracle, then a seer, then eyewitnesses. All the information he receives, however, is hearsay, sometimes two or three people removed from the actual source. Once again, the proper roles are reversed: Oedipus himself, he who has seen, learns of the event from people who have not seen. Oedipus and those around him, however, have no reason to trust Teiresias' judgement over that of Oedipus. Teiresias is the man who could not solve the riddle of the Sphinx, a blind man who speaks in riddles. Oedipus, on the other hand, is the great riddle-solver with functioning eyes and a keen wit. Because the reader is acquainted with the story, he believes Teiresias and laughs at Oedipus' foolishness. The person in events offstage, however, has neither true prophet nor any other way of discerning what is to come. The second major transformation of Oedipus is that of parentage and place. This issue begins in the title with the word 'tUpmmoc;. The word means "master" or "ruler," but it specifies a ruler without traditional political legitimacy, one who did not receive the crown by parentage, but by some other means. This is clearly true of Oedipus at the beginning of the play. He is king 13 ��by wit and riddle-solving ability; indeed, he is a foreigner. As he learns the truth of his parentage, it becomes clear that he is not only a native of Thebes but a legitimate heir, a Kpetcou (king). However, at the same time that he learns this, he learns that he is a moral atrocity, and thus sentences himself to exile, to be a foreigner without title, and Creon (Kperou) becomes king, due not to direct lineage but as the brother to the queen. Oedipus' sons are not mentioned, indicating that Oedipus' transformation back into foreigner at the end is complete. Just prior to his final realization, though, comes word from Corinth that he will be king there. Oedipus thinks at the time that this is a position acquired by birth; in fact, it is a position acquired by association and perhaps character, similar to his rise to power in Thebes. Oddly enough, it is this second rise to power that is the key to his downfall: the same messenger tells him that Polybus and Merope are not his parents. So what should be a confirmation of heritage, an inheritance of a throne, is in fact a double dethroning. Thus Oedipus lives another contradiction: he is a "tyrant" both at the beginning and the end of the play, although he is also legitimate heir throughout. We see the importance of parentage and lineage to personal identities for Greeks in the Iliad, when each person is considered not only the sum of his achievements, but of the achievements of his forefathers. Indeed, to the heroes of the Iliad, the names of one's forefathers serve as inspiration to overcome fear of death, as reasons for preferential treatment by the gods, and in general, indications of honor and character. Thus far Oedipus has four parents: two biological and two adopted. But by proclaiming himself a "child of fortune (1tUXTJ)" ( 1080), Oedipus offers us another way to understand his parentage. Aristotle describes fortune as an "accidental cause of things done according to choice andfor the sake of something" (Physics 197a), a sort of displacement of final cause. This describes Oedipus' actions and their results: Jocasta gives away the child for the sake of its death; the child lives. Oedipus runs away from Corinth to avoid a prophecy; he runs straight into it. He marries the queen of Thebes for the sake of power and greatness; he instead marries into moral atrocity. In requesting Oedipus' help at the beginning of the play, the priest describes him as having brought fortune with him to Thebes, telling him to "be now no less in fortune" (53) 3. However, this is an unsatisfying answer not only because it is thematically empty, but because it does not 3Along with fortune, the gods are sometimes used to explain the discrepancy between Oedipus' intention and his actual deeds; however, unlike in the plays of Aeschylus and Euripides, the gods never make a physical appearance in the play. They are frequently referred to as those to whom men are suppliant and as revealers of information beyond human knowledge. The gods in this way are extremely important they reveal the limitations of man and his thought and perception. However, it seems that they lack the role of definite agent. They do not chase characters with whips, or set up courts of judgement as in the Oresteia. They do not vow punishment on stage as in the Hippolytus. They are seen solely through the filter of human perception and action. They are always off-stage. 14 account for Oedipus' character as determining the choices he makes, which fortune may displace. He solves the riddle of the Sphinx, as he says, by his "wit alone." Although the priest says he did so by fortune, this seems an implausible way to solve a riddle. Solving a riddle requires thought and perhaps intuition, but fortune seems to be something outside of these, something beyond the power of human choice and skill. The priest also says Oedipus solved theriddle "in virtue of no knowledge we could give you, in virtue of no teaching" (38), which implies that either it came by "some god" or from within Oedipus himself. Sim~larly, he kills a man, out of the same irrational temper we see displayed in his encounters with Teiresias and Creon. He discovers his origin due to his own thirst for knowledge and blindness to the warnings around him. Considering Oedipus' character as a cause also involves understanding him as a parent. This is shown in the fact that he not only destroys his lineage through his father, but that he marries his mother, essentially replacing that lineage with him- , self. He is husband to his mother, brother to his daughters, and therefore father to himself. He is thus the ultimate self-made man, the character without bonds of lineage or history. The chorus expresses this, saying "Cithaeron was mother and nurse to you" (1094). It is as though Oedipus springs fully grown from the earth, like the men sprung from the dragon's teeth sown by Cadmus to found Thebes. However, it is his lineage, indeed the fact that he was generated, that is his destruction. His discovery of his parentage is at the heart of the play. This brings with it the knowledge that the he is the murderer he seeks, that he is the plague on the city. Thus he proclaims at the end," the hand that struck me was none but my own" (1331 ). Even those actions and events attributed to fortune throw Oedipus back on himself. The shepherd sends Oedipus to Corinth to rub away his lineage; he ends up returning to it and tangling himself within it. Oedipus runs away from the prophecy of who he is and what he will do, and heads straight - not to Nicaea or Megara or Athens - but to his home town. He kills a man at a crossroads; it is his father, and thus he replaces his lineage with himself. He marries the queen of Thebes; he does not know that it is his mother, but he yet again throws himself back on himself, like a stone tossed upward, only to return with multiplied velocity. Oedipus' transformation over the course of the play replicates the same pattern of the return to the self. He begins a search for the murderer of Laius as "one who is stranger to the story as stranger to the deed" (220), an outside investigator, aware only of his ignorance. His search for' a solution to the plague progresses into a search for parentage and thus self-knowledge through his dialogues, first with the priest: "why the plague?"; next Creon: "who killed Laius?"; then Teiresias: "what is going on?"; and finally and fatally with the messenger and the shepherd: "who are my parents?" The truth that he discovers is no longer the answer to any one of these questions, but an answer to all of them: the answer to a simple "who am I?" Thus, although he begins the play investigating something seemingly foreign, he ends completely inside himself, all-knowing, all-responsible. "To this guilt I bore witness against myself..." (1384), he proclaims, and therefore testifies against himself, judges himself, and punishes himself. He blinds himself, cutting himself off from outside stimuli, and making himself so gruesome none can look at him. ("I shudder at the sight of you!" [Chorus, 1306]) He is recursive, he is isolated, he is wretched. All tools and events in the play - his blindness, the discrepancy between intention and recursive result, and all transformations, yield Oedipus himself, Oedipus the man, and thus man himself. The riddles thus come full circle: 1) The riddle of the Sphinx (what is man?) 2) The riddle of the plague (what is being done wrong?) 3) The riddle of the murder (who killed Laius?) 4) The riddle of parentage (who is Oedipus?) 5) The riddle of Oedipus (what is man?) Oedipus is then the great riddle-solver both as supplier of answers and as answer himself. Similarly, Oedipus underlies the contradictions and motions between opposites in the play - sight to blindness, ignorance to knowledge, hubris to humility, master to suppliant, foreigner to native. He is both seeing and blind to himself, both ignorant and all-knowing, both close to god and near to beast, both in control and completely powerless, both legitimate heir and tyrant. These extremes cancel to yield simply Oedipus the man. For example, consider the opposites previously discussed of Oedipus' birth and Oedipus' position at the beginning of the play: KPE"QN 'OIAI"TIOYL What, then, is the nature of Oedipus? What is it that remains constant? The most literal answer is his name. oiot7tOU~ is composed of two words: 01.ocro, to swell, and 7tOU~, meaning foot. Forms of oioeco can also be used metaphorically to mean 'of inflated style.' It is also related etymologically to tumors and diseases e.g. ot&i,µa, swelling or tumor. He is the infant left on the hill to die with his feet bound, the disease of the city, and he is also the one who truly "knows" as in "o1Ba ",the perfect of eioeco, to see. The term 'swollen' or 'of inflated style' is a way of speaking of something inflated, something out of shape, and perhaps of a sense of transience, since the swelling will go down. Oedipus' rise to power is such a swelling. Oedipus is he whose feet were bound; the secret of his birth is contained in his name and yet o!oa, he knows and has seen, he is the city's disease and its cure, he is swollen with greatness and yet he is wretched. He in some way contains king and wretch, heir and tyrant, master and suppliant. However, there must still be an underlying material that undergoes these transformations. This material, then, is that which constitutes Oedipus' character and physical form. As man, he is neither of foreign nor noble birth, but he is born. He can see physically but has neither eyes for the future nor eyes to look inside himself. Many raised and conditioned him, but he is ultimately descended from no one except himself. He seeks mastery but much is beyond his control. He seeks knowledge but much eludes his grasp. He does everything in his power to be moral and good: to save the city from the plague, find a murderer, keep himself from killing his father and marrying his mother. The three major character traits that underly these actions are a thirst for knowledge not easily quenched, a desire to do what is good, and a fierce temper. It is his thirst for knowledge that leads him to ask his parents who he is after a drunk calls him a bastard, to ask the oracle when the answer is unsatisfactory, to try to answer the riddle of the Sphinx, to solve the murder of Laius, and to discover his parentage, despite multiple warnings as to its result. It is his desire to do what is good that leads him to leave the city where he was raised, to avoid killing his father and marrying his mother, and it is that desire which motivates him to decipher the cause of Thebes' plague. It is evident from the way the town and priest beg him to solve this problem that he is under no obligation to do so but does it only out of concern for the city. It is his temper which flares when he is pushed out of the road by King Laius, and thus he kills him and his entire company. When Teiresias pushes him out of the riddle-solving him of road, so to speak, his temper flares again and he accuses_ conspiracy. "Perhaps it was a sudden gust of anger that forced the insult from him, and no judgement" (Chorus, 523). These are the very characteristics which define man. His lack of foreknowledge in making his choices reflects that of all men. Although in the play the audience has the blueprint of what will happen, Oedipus does not, and neither do we in everyday life. Indeed, Oedipus' characteristics are similar to the three parts of the soul presented in Plato's Republic: the contemplative and rational part, the part concerned with honor and duty, and that ruled by the passions. Oedipus passes through all stages and extremes in which people find themselves, thus demonstrating that all of those extremes - king, wretch, master, suppliant, etc., flow from man, and are not imposed from the outside. The tragedy of the play, then, is that which all mankind experiences, much more tragic in its universality than it could be specifically: the tragedy of the impossibility of foreknowledge of events, and the tragedy of all knowledge, all mastery, and all greatness being inescapably transient, likely in the space of a day to collapse into its opposite. Wonders are many, and none is more wonderful than man; the power that crosses the white sea, driven by the stormy southwind, making a path under surges that threaten to engulf him; and Earth, the eldest of the gods, the immortal, the unwearied, does he wear, turning the soil with the offspring of horses, as the ploughs go to and fro from year to year. And the light-headed race of birds, and the tribes of savage beasts, and the sea-brood of the suiface, he snares in the meshes of his woven toils, he leads captive, man excellent in wit. And he 15 �masters by his arts the beast whose lair is in the wild, who roams the hills; he tames the horse of the shaggy mane, he puts the yoke upon its neck, he tames the tireless mountain bull. And speech, and wind-swift thought, and all the moods (6P'YtlJ that mould a state, has he taught himself; and how to flee the arrows of the frost, when 'tis hard lodging under the clear sky, and the arrows of the rushing rain; he has resource for all; without resource he meets nothing that must come: only Death can he not flee from; but from sicknesses without cure he has devised escapes. Cunning beyond fancy' s dream is the fertile skill which brings him, now to evil, now to good. When he weaves the laws of the land to that justice which he has sworn by the gods to uphold, he is high in the city: no city has he who.for his rashness, dwells with sin. Never may he share my hearth, never think my thoughts, who does these things! - Chorus, Antigone, 332-372 Slightly modified from the translation of Sir Richard Jebb. Nick Greg Francke 16 17 �The Day of Picking Melissa Bond I was ten years old the day we picked the com. My brother and I had been waiting for it all summer. Going out each afternoon, behind the rusted chicken house and up the small muddy path to our beloved garden, we would wonder if it was time. I could never tell if the corn was tall enough. Dad always said it had to be just a sprinkle above my head, whatever that meant. I would ask Kenyon if it was a sprinkle yet, but he would just squinch his face, raise his eyebrows for a minute and then return to catching the Japanese beetles that he always fed to the fish. It was a Sunday in late July when the day of picking came. Kenyon and I were pretending we were dead when Dad came in to get us out of bed. "Ready-Up!", he shouted dancing around the room. He was humming to himself and had a half-lit, fivepenny cigar sticking out of his mouth. "Hmmmm-uhhhhhmmm-hmmm." His hands glided through the air, tracing wind currents back and forth, back and forth. "Hmmm-uhhh-hmmmhmmm." Kenyon and I began to giggle. Dad leapt over the small footstool I used to reach the bookcase, and farted exquisitely upon landing. "My dearest, loveliest children," he began, ''Today is a day of infinite grandeur. The air is stilled to perfection, the sun has warmed the back of the earth and all is toasty and content." I looked at Kenyon who was smiling and blinking his eyes at the flurry of our father's arms. Kenyon's head inclined slightly toward me as he rolled his eyes. Dad was given to making speeches. " ... the grasshoppers make lazy love sounds, the honey is sweet and the magnolia's smile. My dear, beloved children, today the corn is sprinkle high. Today is the day of picking." Kenyon and I jumped up on our beds and began running in place. "Wooo-woooo-woooo," Kenyon yelled. "Wooo-wooowooo." With a great exhalation, our father stopped us. "First," he said with all seriousness, "breakfast." Kenyon and I yelped. Dad clomped off toward the kitchen, cigar clenched firmly between his lips. The day of picking had begun. Breakfast consisted of sourcream poundcake, buckwheat pancakes with real maple syrup, fresh strawberries from the garden, and big glasses of Tang. Dad was waiting at the table when Kenyon and I began to heap food on our plates. As I reached for the strawberries, dad grabbed my wrist. "Homage to all grasshoppers, the sky and every silk thread we find." he said gently into my eyes. "Understand?" I nodded my assent. He let go of my hand slowly, becoming distracted by the maple syrup. Kenyon's amber eyes looked into mine. "Pass the strawberries," he mouthed. The following six hours Dad, Kenyon, and I spent Hauling manure water. Kenyon and I were given three foot yellow plastic shields to drape over our bodies for protection as we hauled five gallon pails of water and horse shit from Clay Odom's house to the garden. "We must replenish before we consumeth," said Dad, slopping a big turd around his zucchini plant. "We must replenish before we consumeth," Kenyon and I 18 echoed, trying to splash each other. Each haul took several hours as Clay Odom lived a little over three miles away. The three of us walked to Clay's house swinging our buckets. Kenyon and I then waited for Dad to finish the cigars he smoked with Clay on all days of picking. They shared two cigars, passing them back and forth and commenting on the quality of corn that season. "Got Silver Queen this year." Dad said scratching his ear. "Swee test damn com you ever put in your mouth." "Yup," Clay answered, sucking his grey teeth, "I ain't never got it off the stalk fast enough though. You got to get it off the stalk while it's still green, while it's still alive if you want that sweet honey taste." "Yup," Dad said. He stood up, extinguishing his cigar. "I think it's about that time." Kenyon and I picked up our buckets, waved goodbye to Clay, and followed our father's intent body up the road. After thorough scrubbings, Dad gathered Kenyon and I in the kitchen. It was about four o'clock and the afternoon heat had dissipated into a slow, contented warmth. Dad was pulling all the pots from the cupboards and examining them. He pulled each one out, holding it away from himself for inspection. After inspection he would gingerly place it back in the cupboard, pulling out the next one for examination. He finally decided on an old chili pot Clay had given him at a Bar-B-Q three years before. The pot held five gallons, was made of stainless steel and had huge handles on each side. "Yes. Good. Good." Dad whispered turning it. He filled the pot with water and set it on the stove to boil. Kenyon's foot was wagging back and forth as he stared at the garden. Dad put a stool in front of us and sat down. He ran his hands through his dark hair and then clasped them together, grinning at us. "My most beloved children," he began. "Today is the day of picking, it is a day of honor. We must honor... ". He trailed off, his eyes locating a butterfly outside. The air was quiet, only the sun and our breath beating through the silence. He began again, "Fivecobbseach. Only five. Don'tpick them until I tell you to. Once you have picked them, run as fast as you can to the kitchen. Shuck them and throw them into the water. You want them to be alive when you put them in. They have to have life to get that sweet honey taste. Okay?" "Okay," Kenyon and I whispered, vibrating. The water began to boil. Dad, Kenyon, and I walked to the garden with deliberate slowness. "You don't want to cleave the air too fast on a day like this," Dad said "it makes for bad pickin' ." we arrived at the garden. The stalks were golden with feathery blooms for heads. The sun made slats through the rows, taking its place with all fairness. Nothing pushed too fast here. Kenyon and I began to walk slowly, caressing the dark green and the light. "Homage to all grasshoppers, the sky, and every silk thread." I thought. We took our time, cleaving the air slowly, finding the com we thought would be the biggest and sweetest. "Has everybody found their corn?" Dad yelled from somewhere to my right. "Yes!" I yelled. "Yup!" Kenyon yelled. Okay," Dad said, "on the count of three, I want everyone to pick, shuck, and boil! Ready! One! Two! Three!" Kenyon and I screamed. I rushed to each of my beloved com cobbs and picked them with all the delicacy I could muster before rushing to the next. At the fifth one I ran down to the house, my lungs screaming in my chest more from laughter than from exertion. Dad was shucking like a madman and throwing the naked cobbs to Kenyon who dropped them into the boiling water. I joined the shucking and within minutes all fifteen cobbs were rolling around in sweet, aquatic, Clay Odom's chili pot bliss. Dad smiled and nudged me, "Did you hear them sigh as they went in?" he asked. "I think we got them alive. I believe we are going to have us some Silver Queen com shooting sweet honey straight down our throats." We set the table with three plates and one big bowl of fresh butter. We didn't even use knives, we just jabbed those com cobbs straight in and let the honey mix with the butter until it was just right. It was sweeter than honey when that sigh shot straight down my throat. Dad said, butter glistening on his beard, that the magnolias must be smiling. 19 �From Ambiguity to Epiphany: A Clairvoyant Reading of "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" Ange E. Mlinko Introduction A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell along the path, and the birds came and devoured them. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they had not much soil, and immediately they sprang up, since they had no depth of soil, but when the sun rose they were scorched; and since they had no root they withered away. Other seeds fell upon thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. He who has ears, let him hear. (Mat. 13:3-9) Jes us told this parable by the seaside. He speaks here of his own mission to convert, but the parable might apply to all storytellers, whose words fall likewise on shallow and fertile imaginations. Stories aim to teach, but their subject- the mystery of life - defies simple or literal language. Instead the language of parable or poem circles around its subject, approaching the vortex with circumspection. This is not, however, our usual method of acquiring knowledge about the nature of things. We think of communication and inquiry as arrows with a target: information. The following passage by a seventeenth-century theologian exemplifies this: I can easily believe that there are more invisible than visible beings in the universe. But of their families, degrees, connections, distinctions, and functions, who shall tell us? How do they act? Where are they found? About such matters the human mind has always circled without attaining knowledge. - T. Burnet These exact questions of category belong to the natural philosopher. Yet man's most "natural" approach fails when applied to spiritual inquiry. It is ironic then that this passage begiris the long epigraph of Coleridge's "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," a parable about a man who goes off in search of the unknown, violates its mystery with his blundering arrow, and undergoes an astonishing penance: initiation into life-indeath, the prophet's condition. To become prophetic one must attain clairvoyance, the ability to apprehend the invisible. For one who wishes to know at all costs no suffering is too great. The Mariner is doomed to wander the land, exiled from spiritual and human society, sowing his tales among other chosen men and thereby sundering those men from human society. Similarly, we the readers of ''The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" must attain some degree of clairvoyance in order to "see" what the poem means, but does not say. Our minds, drawn to its beauty and then to its mystery, circle around its ambiguities until we experience the same epiphanies the Mariner experiences. The epiphanies are three: seeing in the dark, hearing the invisible, 20 and feeling the wind of welcoming, the creative breeze. It is my hope in this essay to chart the progress from the "circling" mind to the "clairvoyant" mind first in the Mariner, then in the poem's reader. And I hope throughout to impart the sense of danger that permeates the quest for knowledge lying beyond the realm of natural philosophy. II - The Circling Mind and the Mortal Eye The Mariner thwarts the Guest's purposeful passage the way the elements thwart the purpose of his ship. His first lines express the initial excitement of the mind venturing forth into regions unknown: The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared, Merrily did we drop Below the kirk, below the hill, Below the light-house top. Below, below, below; the ship sails off with ease, as the word "drop" indicates. Yet the very next stanza counterpoints downward motion with upward motion, straight line with circle: I -The Wedding on the Periphery Outside the frame of the Mariner's story is a second story wherein will lie the real moral. The Mariner must tell his parable to someone, like the sower tossing his seed. He diverts "one of three" from the doors of a wedding feast, and that man, the Wedding-Guest, must hear him. But he must conquer the will of his victim, first with a "glittering eye" and then with bewitching words. The Mariner brings the sea into the Wedding-Guest's ken with his very person: "glittering eye" and "long grey beard" suggest the hypnotic moon, and the stretch of ocean beneath it. And when the Wedding Guest cries, "And thou art long, and lank, and brownj As is the ribbed sea-sand," we think of something washed over and over by a motion as inexorable as the tide. Indeed, the Mariner later reveals: Since then, at an uncertain hour, That agony returns: And till my ghastly tale is told, This heart within me burns. Over and over he experiences that eroding fever. The Mariner's voice and features bring the natural elements into a wedding feast. Marriage is the cornerstone ritual of society, which is itself man's greatest bulwark against the elements. And as the Wedding-Guest puts it: The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide, And I am next of kin. This next-of-kin enjoys the protection societies and marriages give to individuals. With protection comes cheerful ignorance. The Mariner, by not allowing the Wedding-Guest passage across the threshold, breaks the spell that sheltered ignorance holds over his heart. The Wedding-Guest "beat his breast" at the sound of music and laughter coming through the doors. He and the Mariner must remain outside the human domain, as must the knowledge they come to share. mind's eye confuses its nature; he circles, like the mind in the epigraph looking for "families, degrees, connections, distinctions, and functions." As the Mariner builds his stanzas toward the revelation that he killed the bird, the pace heightens. But at the crucial moment when he might have given away his motive, the Wedding-Guest preempts two and a half lines to cry, God save thee, ancient Mariner! From the fiends, that plague thee thus! Why look' st thou so? Whatever the Mariner might have said is lost in the drama of cry crashing on cry: "With my crossbow/ I shot the Albatross!" What caused the Wedding-Guest to cry out just then? The stanza prior to it goes: The Sun came up upon the left, Out of the sea came he; And he shone bright, and on the right Went down into the sea. Instead of saying "we headed south," the Mariner incorporates the rolling motion of the orbit in his words. "We headed south" conveys purposeful ease, which Nature will subvert. So as soon as the ship goes beyond "the line," or equator, it can no longer navigate itself. A storm-blast causes it to lose its bearings. This storm, "tyrannous and strong," is likened to the ship's "foe." And in the absence of men and ·beasts, the very landscape takes on a malevolence; the ice "cracked and growled, and roared and howled." The ship finds itself in the land of mist and snow where eye and mind flounder in confusion. The simple compass needle, which so scientifically points north, spins. The Mariner cannot see shapes for the mist; this is a physical indicator of a mental condition. Most importantly, he does not know he has drifted into the territory of the Polar Spirit. Coleridge wrote in the marginal gloss that it is "one of the invisible inhabitants of this planet, neither departed souls nor angels .... They are very numerous, and there is no climate or element without one or more." This might remind us of the world of the Odyssey, where one must be on guard against the capricious wrath of the many immortals and semi-mortals who inhabit the seas and islands. But the characters in the Odyssey know quite well that such beings exist; the Mariner does not, and so incurs their wrath by killing their messenger, the Albatross. The Mariner's tale is told in retrospect. Hence when he tells us it came like "a Christian soul" we think of the bird as a good omen. But the Mariner amid the mist and snow cannot tell if an omen is good or bad. He tells us "the ice was here, the ice was there, the ice was all around" - and we picture him spinning dizzily about, overwhelmed on all sides. Whence comes the Albatross: "Through the fog it came," "It ate the food it ne'er had eat," "round and round it flew." And round and round the Mariner's mind goes, first describing it as spirit, then as bird. His In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, It perched for vespers nine; Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white, Glimmered the white moon-shine. The obscured moon-eye, the magical nine nights, the mist, the shroud - all theses serve to fill us with vague dread. Is it bird or ghost? If the bird is a ghost, an arrow won't draw blood. So to answer the question, "What manner of beast are you?" the Mariner draws his bow. When the senses fail to inform us, we proceed to experiment; that is the way of the human mind. The shot arrow attempts empirically to penetrate the mysteries to which reason cannot gain admittance. Afterward, the crew cannot decide whether the bird is innocent or the Mariner heroic: For all averred, I had killed the bird That made the breeze to blow. Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay, That made the breeze to blow! But: Then all averred, I had killed the bird That brought the fog and mist. 'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay, That bring the fog and mist. Minds still circle around the issue of the Albatross' goodness or evil. The Polar Spirit, who "loved the bird," enters the dreams of the sailors: And some in dreams assured were Of the Spirit that plagued us so. 21 �Because the soul's eye sees what the mortal eye can't, the Polar Spirit appears to sleeping men. The dreaming eye tells the truth. By day, the Mariner once more mistakes the nature of an apparition on the waters: At first it seemed a little speck And then it seemed a mist; It moved and moved ... A speck, a mist. a shape, I wist! And still it neared and neared: As if it dodged a water-sprite. It plunged and tacked and veered. Frenzy rises in the Mariner; he desires to name what he sees, but his eye renders nothing clearly. Once again he draws blood in his mental tonnent; he savagely sucks the blood of his arm to cry "A sail! a sail!" - apparently to engage the eyes of the other crew members. He wants confinnation: Do you see what I see? Blindly. the crew follow his example, and drink likewise. There• s no indication in the poem or gloss that they see the skeleton ship bearing Death and Life-in-Death. ill - Two Epiphanies [Seeing in the Dark] Twice up to this point the Mariner draws blood, twice as a way to answer his uncertainty regarding the nature of what he sees. Twice this act fails. In part III, the poem makes a distinction between the carnal and spiritual eyes, symbolized by the sun and moon. The carnal, or mortal, eye of the Mariner has thus far mistaken a bird for a phantom. and a phantom for a ship. The new world he has trespassed into demands the growth of a new eye - one that, like the moon, sees in the dark. In part II, the ship bursts into the doldrums at the equator; there the "bloody Sun" stands above the mast like a judging eye. But the sun's great telling moment comes when the skeleton ship drives "suddenly/ Betwixt us and the Sun." The Mariner's eye, entrenched in his body, is unable to judge right. The setting sun now symbolizes the judging eye as the imprisoned eye: And straight the Sun was flecked with bars, (Heaven's Mother send us grace!) As if through a dungeon-grate he peered With a broad and burning face. The carnal eye is shown to be imprisoned in flesh. Furthermore, the "bars" that obscure it are the "ribs" of the ship. At the invocation of "Heaven's Mother," that blue-mantled Mary, another apparition answers: the Mother of Flesh. Red-lipped and golden-haired. her skin "white as leprosy," she is the Muse's 22 alter ego: if the Muse gives immortality, she gives mortality. If the Muse inspires with the Breathe of Life, Life-in-Death provides the unregenerate clay. We could explore her extensively, or shudder and pass by, knowing that she is meant to touch an oxygen-less depth in us. The human eye sees by the sun; another eye. akin to the moon, must take over the senses when darkness falls, as it does very suddenly after the spectral ship takes off. First "four times fifty living men" drop dead, each with a curse in his eye meant to repel the Mariner's bodily eye and spur the development of his spiritual eye. He says: An orphan's curse would drag to hell A spirit from on high; But oh! more horrible than that Is the curse in a dead man's eye! By the Moon the Mariner finally attains his first epiphany~ How goes the movement from damnation to grace? He mourns the dead: The many men, so beautiful! And they all dead did lie: And a thousand thousand slimy things Lived on; and so did I. The Mariner can still see the dead men; but he cannot see the "thousand thousand slimy things" that live in the deep. His confusion about the nature of things he can't see begins to resolve when he closes his eyes. First "I looked upon the rotting sea," "I looked upon the rotting deck," "I looked to heaven, and tried to pray." To no avail, until, "I closed my eyes." He does not say when he opens them again. Then like a moon rising in the night, a new eye causes him to see through the darkness. Again he looks at the sky, the deck, the water, and finally sees: Beyond the shadow of the ship, I watched the water-snakes: They moved in tracks of shining white, And when they reared, the elfish light Fell off in hoary flakes. "Slimy things" have become, with epiphany, "water-snakes."No longer does the sea "rot:" Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, They coiled and swam, and every track Was a flash of golden fire. As the Mariner looks for the first time in fearless wonder, the Albatross falls away. He comes to know something without desiring possession of its very nature. What is it that he now knows? He has seen the essence of Creation; he understands a universal order, born in beauty as well as chaos. As a result he realizes the futility of apprehending beings with scientific instruments and faculties. When he looks down at the circling, flashing creatures. he sees through the dark; he succumbs to the circling. the confusion, that prepares the mind for its flash of understanding. [Hearing the Invisible] Beast and man take their places in the cosmos for the Mariner; now he must learn to comprehend the spirits. After seeing into the depths, the Mariner hears the music of the spheres. In part V, the spirit world perfonns an opera. The Moon and stars are still out. but joined by stonn clouds, lightning, and torrential rain. And soon I heard a roaring wind: It did not come anear.... And the coming wind did roar more loud, And the sails did sigh like sedge; - and, in the commotion The dead men gave a groan. Under these supernal auspices, the dead rise, possessed by an angelic troop, to work the ship. Like the Albatross. they give it t~e means to go, and they also steer. The Mariner works alongside them and pulls "at one rope" with a spirit. He becomes one of them even as they become one of him in their borrowed bodies. Their steering represents what happens when spirit joins man to overcome the dead, chaotic matter of Nature: a direction may be taken. This is exactly his second epiphany. For at dawn, when the troop departs, Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths, And from their bodies passed. Around, around, flew each sweet sound. Then darted to the Sun; Slowly the sounds came back again, Now mixed, now one by one. After the opera of chaos, true music plays. The Mariner compares these sounds to three things: angels' song (a bow to the supernatural), songbirds (a bow to Nature), and musical instruments (a bow to man's art). The possible harmony of these three reahns - so unfortunately sundered, only seen together through the power of clairvoyance - transfonns the Mariner again. He hears the Invisible. IV - The Two Epiphanies in the Ideal Reader . :r?e Mariner's epiphanies. seeing in the dark and hearing the mv1s1ble, are repeated elsewhere - in the heart of the reader reading the poem. The reader sets forth on the sea of Coleridge's cosmos, and comes to the last of its 625 lines. She more than likely will begin again; her mind acts out the circling and circling that is confusion. Too much remains unsaid or invisible to her. But as she begins to penetrate, she comes to clairvoyance. We achieve our first level of understanding when we "see in the dark" - order inchoate images in a coherent way. We have been doing that quite a bit up till now. One of the first questions we asked was, "Who is the Mariner?" Putting images together, we created a picture, made him visible to us. Through another image, we answered for ourselves the question of why he killed the Albatross. Seeing in the dark requires, for us, letting images answer to the unsaid; we allowed ourselves to imagine obscurity, ambiguity, mist and moonlight, until we realized that ambiguity compelled the Mariner to test his senses. After we learn to see the meaning in recurring images, we learn to hear meaning in recurring rhythms. The ability to do both results in a kind of clairvoyance. The paradigmatic pattern of the poem is the circle, a continual return to the same places, same images, same rhythms. The archetypal wanderer is not so much the time-traveler, faring ever forward, but the earth traveler, following the circles of latitude and longitude. Thus the hill, lighthouse, and kirk in the beginning of the tale recur at the end. On the outskirts of that tale, we come to a wedding, depart, and return to it. The Mariner must repeat his.story again and again. The ship crosses the line once, twice, thrice. The sun rises, the moon sets, the sun rises. These are motifs, macro-rhythms in conjunction with micro-rhythms like meter and rhyme. We will speak of the latter presently; first we must look at just a few recurring images and see what insights come to clairvoyant eyes. [Seeing in the Dark] Repetitions of images occur in disguise, for instance these images of chaos from parts II, III. and IV respectively: About, about, in reel and rout The death-fires danced at night; The water, like a witch's oils, Burnt green, and blue and white. Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, They coiled and swam. and every track Was a flash of golden fire. I watched the water-snakes: They moved in tracks of shining white, 23 �And when they reared, the elfish light Fell off in hoary flakes . The upper air burst into life! And a hundred fire-flags sheen, To and fro they were hurried about! And to and fro, and in and out, The wan stars danced between. A Witch's oils, water-snakes, and lightning stonns are all described by Coleridge in such a way as to conjure up the same flickering patterns each time. The death-fires and the dancing stars are also imagistic kin. We think of all of them as images of chaos. And yet by being orchestrated, they appear to us as chaos half-ordered. Such is the effect of another recurring image: that of a multitude set against a lone one. The many, or chaos, is constantly contrasted to the one, or unity. "One," aloneness, is always left. In the first two lines of "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," one meets three; as if by mitosis four divide into two, and by the very end the last two also divorce. In a poem of two's - a groom for a bride, a sun for a moon, an eye for an eye - one is the remainder. We never see the bride and groom together through the doorway. The spirit world never mingles with the human. The sun and moon never appear together. The Mariner can neither hold the Albatross nor the listener. This is a poem of matter dissolving into atoms: Water, water, everywhere, Nor any drop to drink. Four times fifty living men ized number is a recipe for incantation. Numbers like three, seven, and nine occupy the space between unity and chaos where man's mind lives, makes patterns, an out of patterns, magic. This seems to be the message encoded in the following stanza regarding the skeleton ship: The ice was all between. The naked hulk alongside came, And the twain were casting dice; ''The game is done! I've won! I've won!" Quoth she, and whistles thrice. Is it real gambling going on? In the words themselves, numbers riddle: the dice are two (because one is a die), and dice rhymes with thrice. Dice signify chance, but a witch who whistles thrice invokes its opposite, magic. Done rhymes with won, a homonym and double entendre (the Mariner is the crucial one to be won); and both eye and ear follow the progress of twain to one (twain wanes into one). The gambling image- connoting chance - is counterpointed by the play of number. What is said and what is unsaid conflict, with the greater weight of truth resting on the unsaid, the hidden. Hence Coleridge seems to be making a bid for order underlying chaos. While there is an order, one must practice magic to learn it. [Hearing the Invisible] After looking for epiphanies in patterns of image, we look to patterns of rhythm for another kind of epiphany. Coleridge incorporates the music of the sea into his hypnotic poem: V / I.I / V v ,, v ,,. v / / V / The Sun came up upon the left y / The Sun now rose upon tne right VV 1..1 ,/ / V And a good south wind sprung up behind ...the stars rush out, At one stride comes the dark; And the good south wind still blew behind And now 'twas like all instruments, Now like a lonely flute. The orchestration of many-dropping-to-one prepares us for disbelief at the Mariner's ending prayer. God may love "all things both great and small," but even they will drop "one by one" someday. But between unity and chaos is the kind of half-order that orchestrated images represent. A detail like number gains significance: In nature, number is random; in language, it is purposeful. Chosen numbers are reiterated in the poem: "one of three," "three-years child," "I saw a third," "vespers nine," "nine fathoms deep," "seven days," "seven days, seven nights." Symbol- 24 Vl..I / V ""'v The ice was here, the ice was there, The ice was all around. The overcrowding of "ice was" conveys exactly the crowding in of the ship. But in the next example, we hear the isolation of: Alone, alone, all, all alone, Alone on a wide wide sea! Here repetition conveys a great deal of space. The long o's sound like a lone wolf baying. The echo about all-all one-one goes on and on. The rhythm of "the ICE was ... the ICE was ..." sounds like teeth gnashing compared to "a-LONE, a-LONE ... ," which is all vowel. Echo also conveys both weariness and excitement: There passed a weary time. Each throat Was parched, and glazed each eye. A weary time! a weary time! How glazed each weary eye.... The alliteration of passed/parched, the assonance of time/eye, each/weary, and the repeating of glazed and weary all weigh the stanza down. But the following is an exciting stanza because as the Mariner waits with bated breath for the skeleton ship to close the distance between them, so do the lines: /V/ They dropped down one by one. And a thousand thousand slimy things Lived on; and so did I. sometimes it is used to accelerate the heart. Echo, rhyme, and meter provide the tools. Echo, for instance, is used to convey crowded or empty space, weariness or excitement. Here the echoing of "ice was" crowds: .;' i..J / These iambic lines imitate the periodic motion of the sun, gusts of wind, and ocean waves. Hence the bewitching quality of the words that force the Wedding-Guest and us to listen "like a three years' child." Rhythm carries amazing powers of suggestion. The lines quoted above are near-repetitions from parts I and II of the poem. The difference is that between each repetition a crucial act, the Albatross' murder, has occurred. Immediately after the murder we are told "The Sun now rose upon the right" as if the world has taken an 180-degree tum. But in fact; the universe takes no notice. The turnabout of the sun is really the turnabout of the south-bound ship, and the underlying rhythm of the sun, wind, and waves - and of the above lives remains the same. Nature is oblivious to man's drama. Just so, rhythm is oblivious and inexorable. Coleridge can, however, half-order that rhythm. At times it is perfectly regular, giving us a stifled and monotonous feeling; At first it seemed a little speck, And then it seemed a mist; It moved and moved, and took at last A certain shape, I wist. A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist! And still it neared and neared.... and forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled. Here the bumper-to-bumperrhymes of prow/blow/foe mimic the intense chase. It is a timely variation that segues promptly into our established pattern after a caesura between lines 4 and 5. The internal rhyme in line 5 is typical as well. This is musical virtuosity! The tension between regularity and variation in rhyme as well as meter illustrates the tension between the chaotic "dead" matter of the elements and the "inspired" matter of the mind. One may say, for instance, that this is a poem of ballad stanzas, that each stanza contains alternating tetrameter and trimeter lines, but that is only so when Coleridge wants to convey weariness or calm: /VV "'Vv .I' V "-'.I' V/V .I' We stuck, nor breath, nor motion; VIJ/ V" V / As idle as a painted ship v.l'V.I' V.l'V Upon a painted ocean. ~_,. V""V/V/ I woke, and we were sailing on ""' ~ / / I.I v V/IJ ,,. V As in a gentle weather: With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, t,J u / ,.. 'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high; v ,, v ,,. I.I ,,,. I.I The dead men stood together. These lines are very regular and iambic, with alternating masculine and feminine end stresses. The fact that feminine, that is, unstressed syllables end each stanza contributes toward a low-key, fading-out feeling. And in the painted ship stanza, where each line is so symmetrical and droning, the long a's and o's, the multiple p's, don't segue into other sound patterns; they, and the stanza, go nowhere. But just eight lines prior to this withering stanza came this blood-rush: V/"' ""'V .;' / / The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, V/1.J/v The entire stanza closes up like a fan, underscored by '·'neared and neared." Rhyme is another "echo" constantly bouncing on the ear. Rather than have meaning in specificity, it has meaning in its generality, a constant ABCB, DEFE that creates expectation in the reader of an endless wave-like motion. Sometimes Coleridge varies with a six-line stanza that rhymes AAABCB or ABCBDB. Take this stanza: / Day after day, day after day, / The furrow followed free; v v .Y VV V "'V v ; ,, v "' We were me first that ever burst / Into that silent sea. The variation here takes the fonn of a regrouping of stresses, all masculine, into what sounds like a longer stanza of shorter lines. The former stanza was one lone iambic stream: "As idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean" seems like a long sentence, but the strong stresses of "The fair breeze blew/ The white foam flew" break the stanza into short, fast-moving phrases. In addition, the alliteration moves us forward: from 25 �breeze, blew, burst (from the air) and foam , flew , free (from the waves) to the deflated sibilants of ~ilent sea. A similar pattern energizes this stanz~: v ,,- _, " V/ / ,- The sun's rim dips, the stars rush out: °""' " / V / At one stride comes tlie dark. V/ /; v / v/ With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea, I./ / V It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek Like a meadow-gale of spring It mingled strangely with my fears, Yet it felt like a welcoming. /V~ Off shot the specter-bark. The first line breaks into two fast-moving lines of three stresses each; the next line pitches three stresses together to counteract the tendency of a four-line stanza to sound symmetrical, and the fourth line metes out four stresses such that the line still strikes the ear as trimeter. All the way the stanza fights regularity and symmetry. It is a stanza of wind-gusts rather than waves; inspired matter, not dead. No wonder we can go from "The fair breeze blew" to "day after day" in a few short lines. As the rhythm is apt, our emotions keep pace. And so we learn to hear. Rhythm buttresses surface meaning and subtly complicates it; it is like another voice muttering behind the stage voice. It is difficult to hear, much less make m~aning o~t of it. But doing so constitutes a second epiphany, without which the overall meaning of a poem is incomplete. V - The Final Epiphany The Mariner endures still more suffering after his epiphanies. The Polar Spirit gives his ship one last kick, the dead men still wear a curse in their eyes, two daemons visit the ship while the Mariner lies paralyzed; they reveal the motive of the Spirit: He loved the bird who loved the man Who shot him with his bow. ~ter the ship reaches the "line" for the third time, it is driven on wmdlessly by angels. The Mariner is in a state of great uncertainty and isolation; meanwhile, "The dead men stood together." All stood together on the deck, For a charnel-dungeon fitter: All fixed on me their stony eyes, That in the Moon did glitter. Here the living dead seem to stand in condemnation of the Mariner; he seems utterly forsaken and alone. But without warning, "soon there breathed a wind on me." Nor sollild nor motion made: Its path was not upon the sea, In ripple or in shade. 26 This_is the Mariner's third and last epiphany: a life-giving breath or wmd that blows on him alone, even as the ship moves without a breeze. The Mariner, who has finally looked and seen, listened and heard, is indeed being welcomed. It is the spirit world welcoming him. Indeed it ought to mingle with his fears; the life of a man divided between the human and supernatural realms is both a blessing and a curse. He is no longer wholly human. Even so the wind is like "a meadow-gale of spring," that time of year V:hen the air warms things to life. Thus the wind is both unsettling and comforting to the Mariner. Yet he is welcomed even as he is bid farewell by the souls who bring his ship into his home port. After the inspiration lifts him "sweetly," he turns to the dead men who filled him with dread and sees with shock: Each corse lay flat , lifeless and flat, And, by the holy rood! A man all light, a seraph-man, On every corse there stood. The spirits have bared themselves one last time for the Mariner to see before they depart. "Each waved his hand" to the Mariner. The inspiration he had enables him to divide spirits from dead matter, the angels from the corpses; he now is himself a hybrid: a human body with a supernatural eye. The Mariner is Wlequivocally exiled from the spirit world. His ship is sunk with all two hundred corpses. No physical evidence remains of his voyage; proof is impossible. No more does the Mariner belong to men, either. Rescued from drowning by three men in a skiff, he promptly drives two of them to the brink of madness. I pass, like night, from land to land; I have strange power of speech; That moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me: To him my tale I teach. Only one out of three may receive the terrible truths the ~ner knows: This knowledge of the larger world encompass- mg and governmg man's small and myopic one is taboo; it has the power of ruining man's order. Thus does the Mariner "pass like night:" night is also anarchic and taboo, and we would rather receive its witch's truths in dreams. "Say quick," gasps the Hermit who saves the Mariner, "I bid thee say - what manner of man art thou?" This, the question that silently accompanied the arrow to the Albatross, cannot be answered quickly or forwardly. It is answered with a riddle this poem. Plain language, simple and natural categories, are preposterous things to use to describe the plenitude of the universe. VI - The Reader's Final Epiphany How are we to speak of the third epiphany, L'le experience of a life-giving breeze, as it applies to the reader? This breeze is as individual, and inexplicable, as vocation. It is the breath upon the face of the deep prior to Genesis. It is inspiration. Let us return, briefly, to the gospel of Matthew, chapter 13, which began this essay. When asked by his disciples why parables were his method of teaching, Jesus replied: Because it is given unto you to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it is not given .... Therefore I speak to them in parables: because they seeing see not; and hearing they hear not, neither do they understand. We can imagine the effect of "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" on the soils of various imaginations, some rocky, some thorny, and some fertile. Those who read hoping for an easy moral constitute shallow soil, where nothing grows. They leave the poem disturbed and dissatisfied with its ambiguities. Others might attain the epiphanies of sight or sound and yet not feel the breeze that bestows fertility or creativity: these are the readers who constitute thorny soil, where new life flourishes briefly, but withers from neglect. But how does one explain the fact that some fertile souls take the Mariner's seed to heart? In other words: Reading ''The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" will leave some of us confused and frustrated; some of us will pore over it till it yields its secrets, and some fewer of us will be compelled to make our way into the spirit world ourselves. We do so by setting sail, by putting ourselves in the hands of a larger power beyond the shores of the known. And there is no question but that we too must shoot the Albatross, succumb to Nature, pass through the initiation of the spirits, and live to tell the story. Our achievement of clairvoyance depends on our willingness to go to any length to penetrate mystery. So Coleridge seems to believe. The Mariner deliberately sails off into the unknown. Having gone beyond "the line" and to a realm bordering on the spirit world, he cannot make out the nature of things with his mortal eye. When the Albatross arrives to guide him, he cannot put his faith in it, and shoots it to answer his own inquiry into its soul. This violation incurs the wrath and reward of the spirits: on the one hand the Polar Spirit pursues him in vengeance; on the other hand Life-in-Death rewards his pursuit of knowledge with a knowledge of the order and plentitude of the cosmos. Thus he becomes a clairvoyant, cursed and blessed. Myopic man, the natural philosopher, shuns prophets such as the Mariner, perhaps because prophecy could drive him mad, or perhaps because there is no way to make a man see. Yet I do not doubt that sometimes it is well for the soul to contemplate as in a picture the image of a larger and better world, ~est the mind, habituated to the small concerns of daily life, limit itself too much and sink entirely into trivial thinking. But meanwhile we must be on watch for the truth, avoiding extremes, so that we may distinguish certain from uncertain, day from night. By the poem's end, Coleridge has made a mockery of his chosen epigraph. Here, the supernatural is presented as a tonic for the natural philosopher who has overdosed on prosaism: The academic mind is told to read a few poems once in a while. The warning against extremes seems especially fllilny to the readers of Coleridge, who said, "Grant me a nature having two contrary forces," and "Extremes meet." VII - The Wedding on the Periphery, Part Two What loud uproar bursts from that door! The wedding-guests are there: But in the garden-bower the bride And bride-maids singing are: And hark the little vesper-bell, Which biddeth me to prayer! Looking through the doorframe, we glimpse a singing bride enveloped in a protective bower. How frail that bower seems after such a tale! How vulnerable the bride, how deceptive the prettiness of gardens and the strength of human covenants like marriage! The daemonism of the cosmos lurks palpably near. At the moment that a bell rings, the Mariner utters a prayer: 0 Wedding-Guest! This soul hath been Alone on a wide wide sea: So lonely ' twas, that God himself Scarce seemed there to be. 0 sweeter than the marriage-feast, 'Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the kirk With a goodly company! To walk together to the kirk, And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends And youths and maidens gay! 27 �Farewell! farewell! But this I tell To thee, thou Wedding-Guest! He prayeth well, who loveth well Both bird and man and beast. He prayeth best, who loveth best All things both great and small; For the dear God who loveth us, He made and loveth all. This prayer, so seemingly sentimental that even Coleridge regretted ending the poem with it, is in fact not sentimental: it is a gesture of propitiation, an ancient display of piety that runs the gamut from human sacrifice to crossing oneself in a thunderstorm. The impulse to walk with a goodly company is that ancient impulse to ward off evil with sheer number. "Farewell," he tells his listener, but is it like the farewell of the spirits on the ship - that is, just another covert welcoming to the fold of the blessed and the damned? And why does he repeat "thee, thou Wedding-Guest!" as though he were mocking the fact that his listener will not cross that threshold, will not join the company, is no longer the Bridegroom's kinsman but the Mariner's? Why tell him to love, and to pray? This moral lacks power. We have seen what the real cosmos is like, and "God himself/ Scarce seemed there to be." The Mariner has come from the land of Cain to turn this wedding's wine to vinegar. It is fitting that a tale about the world outside the world is told through a frame within a frame. Herein lies the real moral: the Wedding-Guest never goes through those doors; he is sundered from his kinsmen. He rises the next morning "a sadder and a wiser man" and we feel almost as though another story is beginning. But it would only turn out to be the same story in the end. Untitled Rakesh Brennig 28 29 �Animals in Motion: the Flattery of Becoming in Plato's Timaeus Peter Kalkavage ...it has appeared to me more fitting to go directly to the effectual truth of the thing than to the imagination of it. And many have imagined republics and principalities that have never been seen or known to exist in truth ... Machiavelli, The Prince XV Towards the beginning of the Timaeus, Socrates articulates a most unusual desire. He tells Timaeus, Critias, and Hermocrates that he wants to see the just city go off to war. Socrates describes his feeling - his mx0o~. as he calls it - through an image. Here is what he says: It's as if someone who gazed upon beautiful animals somewhere, either fashioned by the art of painting or truly living but at rest, ~ived at the desire to gaze upon them moving and struggling m some contest that seemed suited to their bodies. (19b4-cl) Socrates' desire gives rise to a barrage of questions. Why does he want such a vision? What is there about it that would gratify him? Is an animal more beautiful- or more of an animalwhen moving than at rest? And where is this someone to whom Socrates compares himself? Is he in the wild looking at real animals or only at the movies looking at their images? That is, is he in the sunlight or in the cave? Apparently, it makes no difference. It is the motion that counts, the motion as such that is the object of desire. Socrates wants to gaze upon, to contemplate, beautiful animals in motion. He is resting from his customary passion for inquiry. With the desire for such contemplation, the Timaeus moves us from the serene realm of being to the troubled and turbulent world of becoming. It moves us away from the speeches of the dialectician and towards those of the historian, statesman, poet, and physicist. The man who gazes upon beautiful animals is the central image of the Timaeus. If only we could understand it, we would then understand the entire dialogue. This essay is an attempt to see how the famous likely story of Timaeus responds to Socrates' curious desire. The Timaeus presents itself as a sequel to the Republic. And yet it is far from clear why a sequel is at all necessary, still less clear why the sequel should have a physics as its centerpiece and jewel. What is abundantly clear is that the Timaeus is above all a political dialogue. Whereas the Republic moved from the practical-political question of justice to the transpolitical nature of philosophy, the Timaeus returns us, with a vengeance, to the passionate concern for the political as such. We see this in a number of ways: in the opening "summary" of the Republic, which concentrates on the political nature of that dialogue to the exclusion of the higher life of philosophic virtue, in Socrates' 30 desire to see the best city brought to life in the arena of mortality and war, and in the eminently political nature of Socrates' three hosts. Of these three, it is perhaps He.. nocrates, the least talkative of the group, who best exemplifies what the Timaeus is really about - the transition from mere speech to living deed. Hermocrates is one of the most illustrious heroes in Thucydides' account of the war between Athens and Sparta, the Syracusan statesman whose rhetoric unifies Sicily and plays a central role in the ultimate defeat of the Athenian forces. In the Platonic drama Hermocrates plays a similar role. His two brief speeches - one in the Timaeus and the other in the Critias - are both intended to beget action, specifically, to goad Critias into telling his story about the once glorious Athenians, to draw Critias out, as it were, into the battlefield of speech. Critias is the focal point of the dialogue. It is he who claims to have just the speech to satisfy Socrates' desire, a story about an Athens grown young and beautiful. Critias makes it very clear that for him the just city in speech was nothing but a fairy tale. He tells Socrates: "the city and citizens that you went through for us yesterday as in a myth, we shall transport back into the truth" (26c7-dl). Critias identifies the truth with what the politically-minded call "the real world," the world of body and motion. In this he agrees with Machiavelli that the truth is to be found not in the imagined republics of the philosophers but in the deeds of history. Critias is the dialogue's radical spokesman for the claims of becoming, for the claim that truth is fact. Through the character of Critias we see how the project underway in the Timaeus, far from attempting to complete the Republic, is in fact an attack upon that dialogue' s praise of philosophy. Nothing is more characteristic of Critias than his lack of imagination. The story of Atlantis is as far-fetched a tale as we are likely to hear, and yet Critias insists that it is "true in every way" (20d8). He refers to it repeatedly as a A.6ruc; rather than a µueo~. In short he confuses history and poetry. The author of this confusion seems to be none other than Solon, the famous poet-lawgiver, who brought the story back from Egypt. No sooner does Solon get his hands on the story in praise of Athens than he proceeds to compose a poem about it, a poem which, if only Solon had completed it, would have made him more famous than Homer (21c4ft)! In contrast with Critias, who scorns all images only to fall victim to their power, Timaeus comes forth as one of the greatest defenders of images and imitation in all the Platonic dialogues. The account he will give Socrates is not "true in every way" but a likely story. Timaeus gives two reasons why physics must take the form of a likely story. The first is that becoming, the object of physics, is inherently unstable. Whereas being is always what it is, becoming is always ceasing to be what it is and coming to be what it is not (27d5-28a4). The second reason is human nature. Here is what Timaeus says: But if we provide likenesses inferior to none, you should be happy with them, remembering that I who speak and you my judges have a human nature, so that for those who are receptive to the likely story, it is fitting to search for nothing more beyond it. (29c3-d3) The like!y story emerges from the context of human imperfection and vulnerability. As Timaeus says later, when he mixes up the natural order of soul and body, "we who have a great share in the chancy and random do so also when we speak" (34c2-4). We recall how the dialogue opens. Socrates' ability to count the human order also allows him to know that something is missing: "One, two, three - but where, dear Timaeus, is the fourth?" Timaeus' answer is the very first likely story he gives. "Must be some infirmity," he conjectures (17a4). The dialogue opens, in other words, in a way that playfully mimics the world as Timaeus sees it - _ athematically ordered but at the same time imperfect. m Socrates' count mirrors the inescapable togetherness of strength and weakness, calculation and the incalculable, in all matters pertaining to the physical world. It is a prophecy of the drama to come. When Socrates asked for a speech about the just city at war, he was not asking to be informed. It was not as though the Republic left something out. What Socrates wanted was to hear his city and citizens praised. He wanted, as he says, an encomium and confessed his inability to supply it (19d2). Now an encomium is just what Critias provides, namely, an elaborate flattery of his own city's glorious ancestors. But Timaeus too fits into the drama of praise. The word Kocrµo~ means not only order but also ornament. It suggests the heightening and embellishment of looks, a beautification and flattery. This is just what Timaeus does with the cosmos - he makes it look beautiful. The cosmos of Timaeus is not just an ordered whole but an animal, and not just an animal but a god. It is, he says, a happy god (34b8-9). Timaeus goes so far in his beautification of the world as to deify it. The whole likely story is a hymn of praise to the god Kosmos, who, as we hear in the dialogue's closing lines, is "the greatest and best and most beautiful and most perfect" of all generated things (92c7-8). Clearly, Timaeus intends not merely to speak about the cosmos but to arouse our love and admiration for it. In the prologue, Critias refers at one point to the Koureotis (21 b2), the festival in which Athenian youths were welcomed into the fold of the city. The youths compete in the recitation of poems, among them the poems of Solon. We must imagine that the impressionable souls of these youths, through the music of Solon's poetry, become knit to the fabric of the city, rooted in the v6µot of their fatherland. Something similar is happening in the likely story. In being receptive to Timaeus' speech, we are assimilating ourselves to the cosmic regime that transcends our more narrowly conceived political communities; we are enacting the proper and respectful relationship between the human soul and the divinely established order. Socrates, it seems, was being prophetic when he called the likely story a voµ0<;, a word that means both "law" and "song" (29d6). He seems to have divined that the music of Timaeus, while extolling an order that goes beyond all cities, would nevertheless have a quasi-political end - the instilling of piety towards our cosmic fatherland. The entire likely story is a grand act of imitation. Timaeus imitates the divine work by which the unmelodious chaos became an artfully arranged whole (30a2-6). In the first part of the story, he imitates the construction of the highest visible things - the cosmic body and soul, the circular motions of the heavens, time, and all the stars and planets. This whole first part is ruled by the supreme goodness of intelligence. Such goodness manifests itself for Timaeus in the objects of mathematics, particularly in the binding power of 'auaA.o)'La or proportion. The mathematical objects have a primarily political function; they are appointed as the guardians of all decency and good character. In their provision of boundaries, they are to the world what laws are to the city. They make the cosmos just. The moral and political goodness of the whole is rooted, mythically, in the moral goodness of Timaeus' demiurge or craftsman. This craftsman, we are told, lacked envy (29el-2). He did not cling to the perfection in himself but wished to pass it on to his offspring. The divine craftsman thus comes to resemble a political founder like Solon or Lycurgus. The world for Timaeus is an altogether noble poem written by a morally wise and generous poet-statesman. And yet, like any human poet-statesman, the divine craftsman must surely be filled with the love of begetting, with the l£pmc; wu ')'EWW which Timaeus describes at the end of the dialogue (91b4). Why else would his passion turn from seeing to making? As the craftsman gazes upon the world's intelligible archetype, he must be longing to see it become a beautiful animal in motion, an animal that will, in being generated, reflect his own good looks. The lack of envy sounds suspiciously like the human desire to beget beautiful images of oneself. Timaeus is out to praise imitation. The method of the astronomers gives him an excellent opportunity to do so. Referring to the astronomer's attempt to plot the heavenly motions, he says: "to speak of these things without looking at their imitations is vain labor" (40d2-3). Timaeus is referring to the astronomer's mathematical hypotheses, to something like Ptolemy's eccentric circle and epicycle. Such hypotheses are not meant to be taken literally, as the actual mechanisms by which the stars accomplish their motions. Ptolemy himself calls them "likenesses manufactured by us" (Almagest XIII.ii). To construct such likely stories about motion is precisely what it means to "save" the appearances. But more is being saved here than just the appearances. The human good for Timaeus is our assimilation to the divine order. It is through astronomy that this assimilation is brought about. In Timaeus' words, "through learning and sharing in calculations that are by nature right, by imitating the absolutely unwavering motions of the gods, we might stabilize the wanderings within ourselves" (47cl-4). By giving the heavens a divine soul, Timaeus gives the world interiority and good judgement. Circular motion becomes an outwardly displayed image of thinking as a turning inward upon oneself. The fact that we sometimes refer to thinking as a reflection, that is, as a bending back, reveals the implicit connection between thoughtfulness and circularity. The circles of Same and Other are the motions of good judgement (37a2-c5). When we look up at the stars at 31 �night, we are gazing not outward but inward; we are looking at the best and most precious part of ourselves. Since we originated in the stars, we are also gazing into our own glorious past. What Critias is doing in his praise of the ancient Athenians, Timaeus is doing for everyone in the likely story. Astronomy is the true homecoming of the human soul. It returns us to what Timaeus calls "the look of our first and best condition" (42d2). As long as Timaeus stays with the heavenly things, he is in a realm that is virtually problem-free. To be sure, the heavenly motions are very complicated in how they appear to us. But in themselves they are divine motions, good motions, and are therefore friendly to mathematical inquiry. We must never forget how successful Ptolemy is in accounting for all the motions that can be seen with the naked eye. All this changes once Timaeus descends from the heavens, once he enters the realm of becoming and mortality, the realm of being-at-war. But he must enter this world; he must descend from the heavens or the heavens themselves will be incomplete (4lb7-8). The descent of Timaeus begins with the construction of human nature. The human condition reminds Timaeus that the whole account so far has been one-sided in its devotion to goodness and beauty. There is another principle or beginning, another hpxfi without which the world as a whole could not have been made. This principle is necessity. Timaeus calls it "the look or form of the wandering cause" (48a6-7). Necessity is the unpredictable realm of power, expediency, and war. It is the realm on which Machiavelli so likes to gaze, and indeed Timaeus' wandering cause in part resembles what Machiavelli refers to as "fortune." Timaeus has tried to build the world from the top down. Now he must try to build it from the bottom up. In his new beginning - the most interesting and most problematic moment in the whole likely story - he will give us a more accurate portrait of what it means to imitate. Socrates' desire was for a vision of beautiful animals in motion. He wanted to see what would happen in taking the leap from the serenity of being to the turbulence of becoming. With the excursion into necessity, Timaeus encounters becoming in its strict meaning, becoming as process. Here, more than anywhere else in the dialogue, Socrates is treated to the vision he desired. Now beauty is king of the likely story, not beauty as that which incites erotic love, but beauty in its political aspect, as the fine or noble which restrains the notorious disorder of erotic love. This political good is made to shine forth in the guise of beautiful mathematical structure. For Timaeus, beauty is always connected with stability. To be beautiful is to be solid, that is, dependable. Indeed, in his first founding, Timaeus crafted the world as an image of changeless being, not to ground the world in a truth available to the intellect but to make the world as stable as possible (28a6-b2). Timaeus strongly disagrees with the poets who would have us believe that a rose is all the more beautiful for being mortal. But becoming is pure process, pure flux. How in the world can such a thing be rendered beautiful and stable? It seems to be like trying to grab hold of Proteus, the old man of 32 the sea. Timaeus knows that here he is up against an especially elusive problem of saving the appearances. He calls on the help of Zeus, the Savior (48d4-5). Timaeus uses an image to capture the fleeting look of becoming; the image is that of a new demiurge. Becoming, he says, is like a man who molds all possible shapes out of gold (50a5 ff) . The man does not stop when a figure is completed but continually transforms every figure into every other figure. In the process of a figure's coming to be what it is, the figure is already passing away. What Timaeus is describing here is the transmutation of the four elements of body - earth, air, fire, and water. To give an account of becoming is to say how these four elements are involved in the continual process of turning into one another. The problem of becoming is this: to save the restless look of becoming as process while at the same time saving the distinct and quasi-stable looks of earth, air, fire, and water. The problem is that of knowing how to harmonize motion and form. That the medium of becoming is likened to gold, a beautiful and precious metal, is important. It expresses Timaeus' unremitting passion for adornment. The flattery of becoming is already underway. Timaeus first tackles the problem of the fluid medium. He refers to this medium in a variety of ways. He calls it the receptacle, fntoBoxil, and space, xropa (51a5, 52a8). Its nature consists in its exquisite receptivity to form,.its power to capture the looks of earth, air, fire, and water. It is like the shiny surface of a mirror or better - since Timaeus endows it with motion (53a3-4) - like the surface of a rippling pool. In order to reflect the looks of the elements, the receptacle must itself be pure, void of all form. We might say that the only real looks that the receptacle has are the ones it steals from somewhere else. The receptacle is like any human imitator, any poet or sophist. Again using an art that aims at flattery and beautification, Timaeus compares the receptacle to the neutral base used by the makers of perfumes (50e4-51al). In his first account of beginnings, Timaeus had distinguished two factors involved in imitation-the original form or archetype and the image that was patterned after it. He made no mention of the reflecting medium. In his new beginning, he revises the account of imitation by introducing this third and necessary factor. The whole truth about imitation is that imitation requires three things: the image that comes to be, that from which it is likened, and that in which it comes to be. Once again Timaeus uses an image to clarify his meaning, only this time the image is that of sexual generation rather than craftsmanship: the original e'tooc; is like a father, the receptacle like a mother, and the resulting image like their offspring (50c7-el). With this simile, we are being reminded that sexual generation is, among other things, a form of imitation. We are also being reminded that the word for becoming, ,,Evecm;, is also the word for generation and birth. The receptacle not only provides room for all things; it also gives them their fleeting life. It is the womb in which all mortal things live, move, and have their being. In descending from the stars to becoming, we are passing from one region of life to another, from the intellectual cycles of the heavens to the biological cycles of organisms. We are descending from astronomy to embryology. Timaeus braces us for his account of the elements. He calls it "strange and uncustomary" (48d5-6). At this point Timaeus shifts from the phrase "likely" µue0<; (29d2) to "likely" AO)Ut (48d2). Story has become account. Timaeus is starting to sound like Critias! He tells us that the "account" will be even more likely than what has come before (48d3). What this means, however - as we shall see - is not that the account will be closer to the truth, but that it will be more imitative, more mythical, more removed from the truth. Apparently, Timaeus' speech at this point will be even more like a beautiful animal fashioned by the art of painting, life-like but not truly living. The construction of body is one of the two most impressive architectural feats in the likely story. The other is the composition of the soul out of the musical ratios. Now the soul is an intelligible being, not a body. It makes sense that an intelligible being should have an intelligible structure. What, then, are we doing when we turn our intellectual gaze to body? What does it mean to think body? Is this not a contradiction in terms? In Book IX of the Republic, Socrates commands Glaucon to mold an image of the human soul in speech. Glaucon responds: "since speech is more easily molded than wax and the like, let it be molded" (588dl-2). In his account of body, Timaeus takes full advantage of this demonic power of human speech, this capacity for imitation. He reconstructs body, founds a body in speech, so as to make body thinkable. He treats physical body as though it were a mathematical body in motion. The "as though" is the most important thing here. Timaeus is being playful. He knows full well that sensed bodies cannot be built up literally out of mathematical objects. He warned us beforehand that the account of body would be strange! In mathematicizing body, in making it a fit object for gazing, Timaeus blurs the distinction between two senses of body - body as geometrical solid and body as physical solid. He defines body as that which "has depth" (53c5-6), thus locating the solidity of body in three-dimensionality rather than in impenetrability. Armed with this slippery definition, Timaeus can shuttle back and forth between the properties of geometric body and those of physical body, between the body in speech and the body in deed. Mathematical physics in this way comes to be founded on a pun. It is this pun that allows body to shine in the mind's eye. In Timaeus' earlier account of body, the four elements were beautifully arranged in a double mean proportion: fire: air:: air: water :: water : earth. They did not interact and waged no wars. They held fast to the integrity of their own forms. Most interesting was fire. In the first account of body, fire was not violent at all. It was put in its best and most serene light as the source of the world's visibility, just as earth was defined not in terms of its stubborn resistance to change but as the cause of tangibleness (31b4- 32c4). Air and water came on the scene there only for reasons having to do with orderliness, because the cosmos is solid in shape and because a solid requires the presence of two mean proportionals. Their physical properties were completely suppressed on behalf of their mathematical function. In this first account of body, body is altogether noble; it is the natural friend of intelligence. In the second founding body changes its character. The receptacle is not by nature a friend of intelligence, although it can be persuaded, as Timaeus says, to take on beautiful forms (48a2-5). Apparently, the mother of becoming is susceptible to flattery. This persuasion of necessity seems to be none other than Timaeus' mathematical construction of the four elements. Timaeus' account, like the divine intellect of the story, aims at persuasion. It will attempt to elicit our trust in beautiful images, to win us over to its poetry. The eliciting of our trust begins with the selection of the regular Platonic solids. Four of the solids are assigned to the four elements: the pyramid to fire, the octahedron to air, the icosahedron to water, and the cube to earth (55d6-8). The regular solids are chosen because of their consummate beauty; they are "the most beautiful bodies" (53el). Next to the sphere, these bodies are the most regular of three-dimensional objects, the very picture of lawfulness. In English the adjective "becoming" sums up Timaeus' dual use of the beautiful. When someone says, ''Those earrings are becoming," he means both ''They suit you" and "They flatter you." This is exactly the function of the regular solids in the likely story: they are designed to fit the appearances and also to flatter them, that is, to make them more beautiful than they really are. The regular solids are, as we say, becoming. The fifth regular solid, the dodecahedron, has an extremely suggestive use in the likely story, especially when we recall Socrates' desire for a vision of beautiful animals in motion. The god uses it in making the zodiac or, as Timaeus puts it, "in decorating the whole with paintings of animals" (8ta~roypa<J>rov, 55c4-6). The dodecahedron is given scant attention and would seem to be superfluous: since there are only four elements, we presumably need only four of the five solids. The god takes the fifth solid and- gratuitously, almost whimsically- tosses it in the sky, aligning its twelve pentagonal faces with the twelve "animals" of the zodiac. But this gratuitous use of the dodecahedron really brings out what Timaeus is doing throughout the likely story and especially in his elaborate treatment of necessity - he is attempting to persuade us that the only world worth contemplating is one that goes beyond the merely useful, one that has been beautified by the mathematical arts. Now Timaeus discovered that he needed necessity when the gods were making our eyes (45b2 ft) . Vision exists for the sake of a noble end the contemplation of the heavens (47al ft). But without the mechanism of the eyes - without the necessary powers of earth, air, fire, and water- vision cannot come into being. The noble end requires necessary means. Now why spend so much time beautifying the elements if all that really interests us are their powers and functions? The beautiful comes to light precisely in the gratuitous, that is, in the luxurious, in what goes beyond the useful and necessary. The dodecahedron tells us loud and clear that neither Timaeus nor Timaeus' god would have been at all 33 �happy in the city of sows, the city of "utmost necessity," in the Republic (II.369dl 1, 372d4-5) . Quite apart from how useful the receptacle and its four powers are, the receptacle's plain but supple face is simply begging for something unnecessary that would "complete its look." No wonder Timaeus gets carried away in his extensive treatment of necessity. He has made necessity as such beautiful, necessity apart from the noble ends that necessity was supposed to serve. Earlier we noted that the problem posed by becoming was to save the phenomenon of transmutation while also saving the quasi-stable looks that entered into this process. Timaeus finds his solution in the regular solids. The elements can change into one another because, unlike the atoms of Lucretius, they are not simple uncuttable bodies but have parts. A given arrangement of parts may be said to define a given element. The pyramid is a certain arrangement of triangles that now, in speech, defines the element of fire. Change the arrangement and you change the element. In this mythical mathematics of body, the intelligible . look or effoc; of an element is being located in its geometric shape. The thing's being now lies in its structure. When that structure changes, the being or whatness changes; the element turns into a new element with altogether different properties from what it had before. This structure gives each element the integrity of a highly distinctive look, in fact, a flattering look. At the same time, the structure is mortal, vulnerable, in so far as it can be taken apart, decomposed. The fascinating transmutation of the four elements has been rationalized as a reshuffling and displacement of structural parts. Timaeus' method of construction is highly interesting. It shows us the precise sense in which Timaeus is an imitator and poet. First he constructs the geometrical analogues of the four elements. Only afterwards does he show how the various affections and motions of the elements could be conceived, imagined, as the result of mathematical structure. The same procedure can be found in the Almagest. Ptolemy first constructs his mathematical hypotheses and afterwards fits the appearances into them. It is almost as though the appearances exist so that we might see in them the beautiful painted animal of our hypotheses. Once Timaeus constructs the regular solids, he proceeds to establish a correspondence between the geometrical properties of the one and the physical properties of the other. All proceeds by way of analogy. The whole account lies in this playful construction of a mathematical analogue and the establishment of correspondences between this analogue and the appearances. Here is what happens in the case of fire. The pyramid, Timaeus says, is "the element and seed offire" (56b3-5). He reminds us in passing that fire, although conceived as a mathematical object, is nonetheless part of a living whole. Fire is the Achilles of the elements; it is the swiftest, most penetrating, and most terrible. The reason or cause - Timaeus would have us believe - is found in fire's pyramidal shape: the pyramid has the smallest base, the smallest volume, and the most acute or "sharpest" angles (56e7 ft). The pyramid is fire in speech, the painted image of a beautiful animal in motion. By displacing our passion for the truth with our love 34 of beautiful animals in motion, Timaeus has fashioned an image of becoming on which it would be a pleasure to gaze. At one point Timaeus tells us that w ,enever we look towards space, that is, towards the receptacle, we become dreamy or, as we would say, "spaced out" (52b6 ft) . But as mortals we are constantly looking towards space. Dreaminess is our human condition. We are constantly thinking, quite unreflectively, that bodies are real and ideas are fairy tales, that bodies are "concrete" while ideas are "abstract." We fail to distinguish the dreamy and evanescent nature of body from what Timaeus calls "the truly sleepless nature" (52b7), by which he means the ungenerated and purely intelligible e1ooc;. Bombarded by images, rocked to sleep by the swaying motions of Mother Becoming, we become anaesthetized to the difference between images and originals. Because of this powerful and ceaseless anaesthesia, we do not know what it means to be truly alive. We confuse life with motion and wakefulness with being excited. We come to resemble the man in Socrates' image who does not seem to care whether life is real or imaginary so long as it is motion. The anaesthetic power of space has a special relevance for the likely story itself, which, after all, is constantly directing our intellectual gaze towards space. Does Timaeus want to wake us up, convert us to the "truly sleepless nature?" To answer this question, we note what Timaeus tells us about space. Space, he says, is not apprehended through the senses, nor is it an object of reason. It seems to hover between the senses and reason, to be in a sort of twilight zone. Timaeus says that space is apprehensible "by a kind of bastard reasoning with non-perception" (52b2). It is "barely to be trusted." The word for non-perception here is CxUat09TlcrtCX, the word from which we get our "anaesthesia." By non-perception, Timaeus seems to mean simply the imagination. Through the power of the imagination, we "see" things that are not presented to our senses. The geometric construction of the elements was non-perceptive in the sense that it generated beautiful pictures in the imagination. Indeed, the account of how space came to be mathematically ordered is really the beautification of our own imagination of body. Timaeus begins with the truly sleepless nature - that is, the purely intelligible form - but it is not his intention to lead us back there. That would be at variance with his praise of the god Kosmos. The mathematical disciplines in the Timaeus are not being used, as they are in the Republic, to turn us towards dialectic. They are being used instead in their political capacity - to order the unruly cosmos and the warped imaginings of the human soul. Timaeus is attempting to persuade us of the goodness of mathematical order, but he is also telling us to be happy with this conception of goodness and not to search beyond it. One must not step beyond the laws of one's fatherland. In being receptive to the likely story, we are still asleep, but at least we are having better dreams. As we saw earlier, the likely story of becoming is based on a noble lie. To render body thinkable, Timaeus cooks up beautiful geometrical models and then shuttles back and forth between the two senses of body. He reasons about physical body as though '· it were geometrical and about geometrical body as though it were physical. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that Timaeus manufactures a new theoretical object that illegitimately combines the conflicting natures of the sensed and the intellected, the body in deed and the body in speech. This is a technically refined version of the bastard reasoning that for Timaeus characterizes our relation to the poetic sophistry of space (52b2). Even the noblest mathematical physicist is subject to the conditions of the world on which he gazes. In his noble beginnings, Timaeus is always very careful to draw a sharp distinction between image and original. But as he goes on, as he descends from those beginnings to the various particulars, he seems to become increasingly caught up in the pseudo-explanatory power of his bastard triangles. His disturbing playfulness takes the form of treating these triangles more and more literally, as though they actually were the cause of physical body. As the likely story unravels, the distinction between image and original is more and more blurred, the painted animal more and more confused with the truly living one. Timaeus is the poet lost in his own poem, the sophist persuaded by his own bastard reasoning. The sophistry of Timaeus' account of body is a mirror of the sophistical nature of space itself. Space seduces us into thinking that to be is to be spatial (52b3 -5). Let us see how Plato dramatizes this seductiveness of space in Timaeus' account of dimensionality. In his first founding , Timaeus informed us that the cosmic body was three-dimensional. It befitted the All, 1tPOmlKT\V, to be, as he said, "solid-looking," oi:EpEoEtofl (32bl-2). Had it been fitting for it to be two-dimensional (apparently a real possibility for Timaeus!), the god would have needed only one mean proportional rather than two (32a7-bl). The second founding seeks to remain true to the the solid look of body, to body's appearance of having depth. It constructs geometrical solids. But what is the origin of their depth? When we examine the inception of the solids as Timaeus constructs them, we see that their origin is the plane: "it is a complete necessity that the plane-nature comprehend depth. And the rectilinear plane is put together out of triangles" (53c6-8). Timaeus' solids are built by stitching together their two-dimensional faces. The construction seems harmless enough, yet it is worlds apart from the one we find in Euclid's Elements. Euclid begins with the sphere and proceeds to construct the solids within that sphere. That is to say, Euclid postulates a naturally existing three-dimensional space of which the plane and all plane figures may be said to be abstractions. For Timaeus, on the contrary, the nature of two-dimensionality is prior to, more natural than that of three-dimensionality: the plane, strange to say, is more comprehensive and in that sense more real than the solid. It is very important to remember that in the likely story, body is not "given;" it must be constructed. This means that the third dimension of depth, too, exists by construction, by art rather than by nature. When Timaeus introduced us to the receptacle, he compared it to gold. This flattered becoming in two ways: first by making the kinetic material of becoming sound and look like a precious metal, and secondly by making the receptacle sound and look three-dimensional. Looking three-dimensional and "solid" is, after all, more beautiful than looking two-dimensional and "flat." To stick with Timaeus' gold simile, solid figures are simply richer, worthier, more valuable than flat ones. The demiurge of this simile sounds at first like a sculptor rather than a painter. But what are the shapes that appear in this golden medium? Timaeus' example is -the triangle (50b2). Here he betrays his preoccupation with the plane as opposed to the solid. He as much as tells us that the receptacle is by nature flat, that it is all surface and no depth. Bodily depth, then, is an illusion, the cunning product of artfully arranged perspectives within the plane, and Timaeus' flattery of becoming is the technically beautiful accomodation to that illusion. The regular solids merely seem to give depth to the receptacle. In fact, these solids appear to be no more than a cosmetic re-arrangement of the naturally existing plane. Indeed, as we see from Timaeus' account of the human body, it is the triangle rather than the solid that dominates and grounds all the motions and affections that pertain to body. In the warfare between inner and outer that defines metabolism, it is our triangles that defend the body from invasion and corruption, just as it is the collapse of our triangles' structure that spells our death (8lb5 ft). The triangle is Timaeus' beautiful animal in motion. Contrary to all appearances, the receptacle is not at all a three-dimensional container but a movie screen that captures the beautiful appearance rather than the being of depth. In its natural two-dimensionality, the receptacle sounds very much like the cave wall of Republic VII, the medium in which the cave-dwellers, fascinated and "held" by the spectacle of animals in motion, locate their exciting and solid-looking "real world." The confusion between plane and solid had been prepared, in fact, invited, by Socrates' opening image. The man who gazed on beautiful animals did not care whether these animals were painted or truly living, that is, two-dimensional or three-dimensional. Socrates underlined a distinction only to erase it. Now what does it mean to be happy with the plane, to rest content with the appearance and not the reality of depth? It means to be superficial, to be content with surface and with opinions undeepened by inquiry. In the Timaeus, this contentment with surface appears as the love of praise and the concomitant suspension of dialectic. To praise something or someone is to dwell at the beautiful-seeming surface and, to quote Timaeus, "to search for nothing more beyond it." In the Symposium, the dialogue whose dramatic form most resembles that of the Timaeus, Socrates tries to break through the surface preoccupation with the praise of eproc; in his cross-examination of Agathon. In the Timaeus, he not only does not break through the surface but encourages and even compels his hosts to be superficial, to engage in flattery. When Critias accused Socrates' city of being merely mythical, he was saying in effect that it was two-dimensional and dead, that it lacked the solidity of a really existing bodily city. Ironically, what appears in Critias' own story is the flattest, deadest city of them all - the Egyptian city in which the 35 �depth of philosophical inquiry has been squashed down into the plane of unreflective v6µrn; or custom, and in which a materialist physics replaces the "vertical" inquiry into cause with the mere observation of the whale's customary motions, the whale's surface (22clff). Perhaps it is only fair that those who accuse Socrates of being a two-dimensional animal be challenged to produce what they take to be three-dimensional, solid, and truly alive, that in doing so they be compelled to reveal their own lack of depth. The deepest and in a sense truest part of Timaeus' story is his description of the receptacle apart from its mathematical ordering, the part in which Timaeus is not trying to flatter becoming with the illusion of depth but simply tries to tell us what the receptacle is. As we see, the receptacle is not just the unstable context for the four elements. It is, more importantly, the medium and cause of all mortal life. Our humanness inheres in and grows out of the receptacle. It is thanks to the receptacle that individuals, families, cities and even whole civilizations come to be and pass away. It is here in the play of powers that animals fight and cities make war. In Socrates' opening image, someone gazes upon beautiful animals somewhere, nou (19b6). This somewhere is the receptacle. But where exactly is this "somewhere?" As we have seen, Timaeus' ordering of space is virtually indistinguishable from the ordering of our imagination of space. Within the mythical context of the likely story, the "outer space" of sensed body is effectively replaced by the "inner space" of the imagination. Crudely stated, it is the body in speech that counts - not deeds per se but stories about deeds. Now it is typical of the likely story to recreate the outer as something inner, to cause the surface of body to seem imbued with the depths of soul. According to Timaeus' first founding, the heavenly motions are only apparently outside us, "up there" in the sky. But in the meaning conferred on them by the likely story, they become the inward thinkings of the whole. The entire realm of outer body, the so-called "external world," is actually within the all-embracing contemplation of the soul (36d8-e5). The cosmos in speech is an altogether inward world, the world as contemplated world, or more accurately, as the world reconstituted and flattered by the mathematical arts. The receptacle must be seen in light of the likely story's attempt to transform the outer into the inner. At its very deepest level, the receptacle is the soul in its receptivity to images. In its turbulent and eminently plastic nature we are being invited to contemplate the excitable and highly impressionable part of our own souls. One can even go so far as to see in the four elements a bodily projection of our emotionally charged nature: we are ambitious like fire, faithless like water, as light-minded as air, and as incorrigible as earth. In short, the four elements are bodily µu0ot about the human soul. When Socrates fashioned an image of his desire and affection, he was gazing upon the just city as though it were a body capable of motion and rest. But he was also gazing within himself, contemplating the very part of the soul that desires and is affected by images of body. The "some- 36 where" of Socrates' image is this inner "somewhere," the emotional and unreflective "space" within us that longs to be filled with moving images. The more deeply we examine the likely story, the more we see that its true object is not the cosmos but the human soul in its relation to the cosmos. Timaeus prepared us for this fact when he reminded Socrates that "I who speak and you my judges have a human nature." We recall that human nature was the goal of the likely story as announced by Critias. Timaeus was to generate the cosmos down to human nature, to make man a citizen of becoming so that Critias could then make him a citizen of ancient Athens (27a2-b6). Timaeus celebrates the Koureotis for man's cosmic indoctrination, after which Critias celebrates this same festival for his full-fledged political one. This is the drama of the Timaeus-Critias. In Timaeus' flattery of becoming, human nature is given a decidedly unflattering portrait. The demiurge does not set out to make man. Man is not a natural end but rather a necessary means by which the cosmos attains its perfection (41b7 ff). The god washes his hands of the whole business at this point, goes into retirement, and bequeaths the unenviable task of making man to his dutiful sons (42e5-7). Timaeus defines the invention of man through an oxymoron: the gods are described as O'E~6µeuot µtat VEtv 'tO 0Eiov, "being reverentto pollute the divine" (69d6). The self-contradictory phrase captures man's ambiguous place within the whole, not to mention the ambiguous character of the whole itself. Man is a desecration of the divine who, for that very reason, accords with and even fulfills the divine plan. With the story of human nature, Timaeus reveals his most central paradox: the cosmos cannot be beautified, flattered to the hilt, without a descent from the beautiful to the monstrous and the grotesque. The gods put us together piece by piece, starting with our heads and working their way down to the sexual organs. The whole account is meant to impress us with how much forethought and artistry went into our being. But at the same time, it tends to remind us of Dr. Frankenstein stitching together his new man. Timaeus takes human nature as he understands it and does something extraordinary. He concocts an outrageous pseudo-scientific myth that compels the depth of soul to show its true colors at the surface of the body. He does humorously with the whole body whatErwin Straus does more seriously with our upright posture. In bringing depth up to the surface, Timaeus shows once more his connection with the art of painting: he projects the "deep" or "three-dimensional" soul or principle of life into the two-dimensionality of body's surface. Simply stated, he wants being to appear. In the account of human nature, the tone of the likely story suffers an erosion: the noble poetry of the astronomer gives way to the black comedy of Aristophanes in the Symposium. This is especially evident in Timaeus' funny and yet not at all funny treatment of our sexuality (90e6-91d5). Timaeus' cosmos, we recall, has two'apxaL, two principles or beginnings. The good pulls the world up towards the starry life of intelligence; the necessary pulls it down into the "mighty river" of becoming (43a6). The likely story dramatizes, in its two beginnings, this fundamental tension and incoherence within the cosmos. It mimics its object through a pun on the word hpx~. Now man, for Timaeus, combines the good and the necessary in his nature and his outward shape. He is the whale's necessary incoherence rendered visually explicit. His sphere-shaped head contains the circles of Same and Other, the divine circles of reflection and sound-mindedness. The rest of him is elongated, the outward sign of his exile from the spherical heavens. In an unmistakable reference to the receptacle, Timaeus calls our lower passions "terrible and necessary" (69c8-dl). They are housed in the torso - spiritedness in the chest and the desire for food and drink in the belly. The pollution of the divine is this joining of the divine and the bestial. To mitigate its bad effects, the gods cook up an invention - the neck. The neck, by far the most striking example of our radically artificial nature, is the only thing that holds us together. It anchors the head to the body while at the same time sequestering the head for its divine life of astronomy. The neck is our constant reminder that our being is the sacrilegious togetherness of two things that should not be together but must be together if the cosmos is to be complete. The mouth is the clearest expression of our contradictory and profane nature. It was invented for the sake of the noble stream of speech that flows out and the necessary stream of nutriment that flows in (75d5-e5). Human nature is caught in the middle of two streams flowing in opposite directions, pulling human nature simultaneously towards its two cooperating yet conflicting origins. The fact that we cannot eat and speak at the same time shows how profoundly incoherent we are. For Timaeus, to be human is to be altogether tragic. The only cure, short of death, is the study of astronomy, the study in which we tum away from our monstrous nature and seek refuge in the act of noble imitation, in the life of the head. The truth about Timaeus' cosmos is not contained in any of the things he says about it. It is revealed in the motion of the likely story, in the path of the construction by which the cosmos is made. The being of the cosmos lies in its becoming. This motion is downward; it is tragic motion. If Timaeus' godKosmos had a voice, he would say with Shakespeare's Richard II, "Down, down I come, like glist'ring Phaethon" (III.iii). The whole likely story is one grand descent from deathless being down to the stars and from the stars down to human nature. As the likely story moves towards its end, human nature degenerates into all the various beasts. It gives birth at last to all the animal possibilities that sleep within it. The hierarchy of beasts, born of human degeneracy, completes the whole and causes it to be in full agreement with its intelligible archetype. As the cosmos degenerates, it becomes more perfect. This is the paradoxical truth about Timaeus' cosmos. Like man, the god Kosmos, in spite of his beautiful ordering, is in the end a tragic hero. When Socrates announced his desire, he warned against the deficiencies of poets and sophists (19d3 ff.). Poets are too rooted in their own cities. That is, their tendency to imitate the familiar and conventional holds them back from contemplating a city that is good by nature. Sophists, on the other hand, wander too much. They transcend the poets' attachment to place but end up utterly placeless, that is, lacking the experience of being political ani- · mals. Their failure to be political is exposed in the Gorgias, where the sophists are portrayed as teaching technique without the proper use of that technique. The sophists show us that being outside the city is not necessarily to be above it. Neither poets nor sophists, it would seem, know how to move vertically into the third dimension of "depth;" they are rooted ultimately in the "flatland" of conventional cities. The center of the likely story is the treatment of the receptacle and the four elements. It is there that we come to see what a likely story really is. We see that it shares in the natures of poetry and sophistry. It is µuern; masquerading as A-6'){)<;. As poetry, it begets .beautiful images of animals in motion. As sophistry, it uses a pseudo-science to get us to believe that its images are real. But Timaeus' relationship to poets and sophists runs deeper than his scientific methodology. It enforms his whole perception of the human good in relation to the intellect and the city. Timaeus is a combination of noble extremes. On the one hand, he is immersed in conventional political activity: he runs his city and enjoys its honors (20al-5). On the other hand, as an astronomer, he soars high above all political regimes... or does he? As the likely story shows, Timaeus seeks to ground our being in a new and higher regime. He seems to want to redirect our political spiritedness and piety away from conventional cities and towards the natural "city" studied by the astronomers. Instead of Solon's political poetry, we now have Timaeus' political poetry. It seems that Timaeus, even when he soars, cannot escape his political perspective. Just as he apparently cannot get beyond the love of honor, he cannot transcend the noble opinion that the highest human good is stability of character and obedience to law, political qualities eminently displayed in the stars. Coming from a city with excellent laws, Timaeus "imitates well the things on which he has been reared" (19d5-e2). This is the poetic deficiency of his soul. It helps us to see why Socrates calls the likely story a v6µrn;, thereby suggesting that Timaeus, no matter how much he seems to be the lover of natural order, is still bound by the right opinion of conventional cities. The astronomical side of Timaeus is sophist-like: it wanders through the heavens with no thought for political rootedness. All cities are banished from the likely story: there is no fellowship or community among men but only the individual and the cosmos. In the character of Timaeus, Plato has painted a moving picture of the poet-sophist at his best and most magnificent, a poet-sophist who seems to be a combination of philosopher and statesman. Timaeus is at once apolitical and ultrapolitical. His noble extremes do not temper one another. There is missing that mean position in which the soul, in leading the philosophic life, soars above the political perspective without losing sight of its political rootedness. The Timaeus inevitably brings us back full circle to the Republic, the dialogue that the Timaeus had pretended to surpass. Socrates' desire was for a sophistic poem. He wanted to see beautiful animals in motion. He wanted to be fooled into thinking that these moving animals were truly alive, to lose himself in the 37 �beautiful image in the way that we all tend to lose omselves in a truly great poem. Socrates stressed the irrationality of his desire by repeatedly using words related to feeling and being affected. He presented himself as "pathetic," as a man at the mercy of poets and imitators. What is Socrates doing here but imitating the souls of his hosts? articulating the desire and the 1t6:0o~ that is theirs? What is Plato doing through Socrates but painting a moving picture of our own nature in its love affair with moving pictures? What, then, is Socrates' true desire? Perhaps, it is to see in what precise ways the human souls before him will show their true colors in the act of being painters. The silence of Socrates is really the contemplation of Socrates. It is the philosophical and ironic distance at which Socrates places himself with respect to the realm of all doings and makings. In being entertained, he is placing himself outside the "real world" of his hosts. As Socrates himself tells us, he is "at peace'' (27al) while his hosts go off to war, gratifying the desire that is really theirs. They are the turbulent object of his serene contemplation. In the Timaeus, Socrates is gazing, as usual, upon the human soul. He is reflecting on the animal that beautifies itself in order to forget that it is a monster. Time the Dominant John Dunn 38 39 �Origami "The" Exponential Curve David Ruy Henry Higuera The swan comes to life. A paper-folded splendor. The wings flap slowly with a rhythm that could only be life. The wings flap with caution; a babe-like vanity prevents it from grace. But the wings flap with a careful wonderment. Suddenly, a winged flutter; a fluttering sound echoes through my room. I can only shudder with a blaze of paranoia. I run to the door and tum the lock; chain the door. There is interested motion outside the door... What was that noise? It was me. What are you doing? I am dancing. Dancing, as is usual. Why are you dancing? I dance because I need to. Let me in. I wish to see you dance. ... can only back away. I am not dancing. I have never danced. I s.it inside this room and fold these pages into swans, only to wait for them to come to life. I have been waiting for a long time ... Tell me if you need anything. ... I need nothing now. The swan flutters. It turns its head from side to side. Does it see? Does it smell? I sit and watch the paper-folded swan. I am nervous, pricked by a thousand needles of crazed anticipation. The.swan is flying. It took the air with such nimble agility. I am excited. I watch the swan. It is beautiful. It is flying. . I ~m looking through my drawers; I look for string. Once I f~d It, I shall be able to tie the swan down. I am going to keep this swan. I am catching the swan; I hold it in my hands. It struggles. This paper-folded swan. I am tying the string around the neck of the swan; I tighten th~ noose. I tie the other end to my own wrist. I am going to keep this swan. The swan circles ·the room counter-clockwise. Continuously. The room is about ten feet by ten feet. A cage. A sheet-rock cage. For the bird. For me. But I am delighted. I have the object of my childhood fancy tied to my wrist. I sit down and watch the beautiful thing as it flies. I remember seeing a child yesterday. I find much in common with the memory of that child right now. 40 The child was sitting on a park bench with a wonderful red balloon tied to its wrist as his parents were walking about the paths somewhere in the park. The child stared with joyful wonderment at the red balloon - bouncing it up and down with the string; it was a tantalizing feast for the child - the balloon so close to escape; it was ready to soar towards the heavens, to crush the finnament- saved by the subjugation of a child's jealous fancy. I find myself in the memory of that child. The swan is getting stronger. And stronger... Please, let me see you. ... stronger. The string starts to cut into the flesh. The pain grows strong ... Please, I want to see what you've made. ...stronger. The flesh starts to rip. Blood, dropping by droplets, splashes and stains a wooden floor. And the swan is growing stronger... Why won't you let me in? ... stronger. I frantically search for something to cut the line. My blood is dropping by droplets onto the floor. And the swan is stronger... Those who have taken Sophomore Mathematics may have come across the fact that all pru·abolas are similar - identical in shape, differing only in size. This is very easy to prove once Apollonius establishes that every parabola has an axis, and every so often a Sophomore Math Tutor will ask the class to try and prove it for themselves. Recently, I discovered, much to my surprise, that "exponential" curves have exactly the same property: they' re all similar. Stated algebraically, all equations of the form or x'= x +Ina (see Fig. 1), so that x = x' - Ina. Now, a= elna, so that y =aex =(elna)ex' =ex+ Ina. Now substitute for x: = e(x' - Ina) +Ina =ex. define similar curves for all values of a and k. This surprised me because different exponential curves certainly don't look similar near the origin, but hey, proofs don't lie. I'm first going to establish this fact algebraically. I don't consider these proofs especially pretty, and (in the typical way of algebraic proofs) they don't give much intuitive insight into why these curves are indeed similar. So, I will follow my algebraic proofs with a geometrical discussion which, while not quite rigorous, helps one see why it is that all exponential curves are similar. In fact, unless you like algebra, you might consider skipping ahead to Part II. Are you alright in there? ... stronger. The blood streams from my wrist. The string becomes singed of redness and the redness slowly climbs the length of the string as the cotton string slow1 absorbs y the redness of my blood. Chairs are being overturned. Drawers are being pulled from the desk and thrown. Piles of papers are thrown. I am searching desperately for something to cut the line. As I frantically search, I notice many paper-folded swans, come to life, flying within the room, as if they can feel the opportunity, building to a climax, to escape from this sheetrock cage. I finally find a razor. As I take it to the line, I hesitate for a moment and remember the child. But the pain finds me. Someone is banging on the door as I cut the line. With a crash of glass, the fluttering sounds build to a din as the swans fly through a window. The fluttering echoes from the distance. From a greater and greater distance, a fainter and fainter echo catches my ear. The blood flows quietly from my wrist as I walk to look beyond the smashed window. I can only vaguely remember the words that were written on the pages of those paper-folded swans as they fly towards the town over the landscape that I see beyond my broken windowa landscape composed by some loving hand, so barren and subjunctive. Then Part I. Algebraic Geometry Prop. 1. Every curve y = aex is identical for all positive values ofa. For, let a new origin be chosen on the x-axis, defining new x-coordinates, x-, and placed a distance of Ina to the left, if a is greater than 1, or right, if a is less than 1; keep the size of the xand y-units the same. >"leW ]-y.I y- t\X is And this means that in relation to the new origin, with identically-sized x- and y-units, this curve is simply an ex curve, identical to the ex curve which was relative to the old origin . Q.E.D. In other words, trying to vertically "stretch" or "flatten out" an ex curve doesn't stretch or flatten it out at all, it just moves it over! Prop. 2. The curve y = ekx is similar to the curve y =ex for all positive values of k. For, let a new origin be placed on the x-axis and new units be defined: y' = ky, that is, the new y-units are 1/k as big as the old; while x' = kx +Ink, that is, the new x-units are also 1/k as big as the old, and the new origin is at a distance of Ink from the old (to the left or right depending on whether k is greater or less than 1). new l"---1 y- 0ixis J ! I I 1. ~K::o x'-;. In°' new LA nit FIG.1 Ink FIG.2 41 �Then y=t_ k and 1 x = k (x' - lnk). Now substitute for x and y in order to describe y = ekx in terms of the new coordinates. Y =ekx v' L.=e k ~(x' - lnk) k y' = kex' - Ink = (elnk)ex' - Ink = ex' - lnk + Ink =ex'. Therefore, in relation to the new origin and measured in the new units, this curve is simply the ex curve. Q.E.D. Now, I haven't shown that such curves exists; there might be a hidden impossibility in the definition. Even if they do exist, I haven't shown that they're continuous, there might be gaps in them. But let's assume such curves exists and are continuous. I also haven't shown that this corresponds to an equation y = aekx; but in fact with suitable choices of a unit length and an origin, you can set up coordinate axes such that the curve will correspond to this equation. An illustration of how to do this is given, without proof, as Appendix I. Let's also assume that the perpendiculars or ordinates increase continuously too. That is, let us assume that as one ordinate gets closer to a second without limit, the two will differ by less than any given length. Not assuming this would amount to allowing "jumps" in an exponential curve: for if the difference between the smaller and the larger were always greater than or equal to some finite length, no matter how close together they were, there would have to be a jump up to the larger - see Figure 4. So in effect what we 're doing is ruling out jumps in our curves. . N_ote that ekx = (ek)x = Kx, where K = ek. Thus this proposition is also about changing the base of the equation: changing the base of ex both moves the curve over and blows up or shrinks down the entire picture, but it doesn't alter the shape of the curve. Prop. 3. The method used in Prop.1 shows that aekx is simply the ekx curve moved over either to the left or the right. Prop. 4. Finally, if a or k are negative, that merely reflects the curve around the x- or y-axi.s, respectively, so no new shape occurs. Part II. Geometry DEF!N1TION. An exponential curve is one with the following relat10n to some given straight line, called the axi.s: perpendiculars erected until they meet the curve from any set of equidistant points on the axis will form a series of continuously-proportional lines. In Fig. 3, if A,B ,C and Dare equidistant, then The proofs that such "corresponding parts" actually exist run to a couple of pages, so I have relegated them to an Appendix. If the claims seem obvious to you from your impressions of exponential curves, you might skip Appendix II entirely. If you have doubts, however, or love rigor, I do try to give real proofs. AB: CD :: AE: CG :: BF: DH (see Fig. 5). AE: BF:: BF: CG:: CG: DH . FIG.3 42 FIG.6 the same ratio, as Euclid never proves but Heath does; and the general case is clearly true, even though I don't know of a general proof. Anyway, since this is so, in our two series of continuouslyproportional ordinates that constant ratio which every ordinate has to the next is the same for both series. But there are also exactly as may lines intervening between DH and LN as there are between BF and KM. Therefore you have a huge ex aequali: the ratios BF: KM and DH: LN are both determined by the same ratio compounded with itself the same number of times. Therefore they're the same: BF: KM :: DH: LN or BF: DH:: KM: LN. Q.E.D. Thus far I've only handled a special case, ordinates situated at commensurable distances. But now let there be ordinates at K and L, and let BK and DL be proportional to but incommensurable with AB and CD. I say that KM and LN are still proportional to BF and DH. For, 0 and P exist on the axes such that the distances BO and DP are proportional to and commensurable with AB and CD, and also such that the ordinates OQ and PR are closer to KM and LN than any given distance. (See Figure 7.) Therefore OQ and PR can be chosen closer in length to KM and LN than any given length. Now OQ and PR can be chosen closer in length to KM and LN than any given length. Now OQ and PR, as I've just proved, are proportional to BF and DH. If KM and LN were not proportional to OQ and PR, then one or both of the former would have to differ from one or both of the latter by some finite length. But this is impossible, since for any finite length we can find an OQ and a PR closer in size to KM and LN. Therefore they must be proportional. Q.E.D. BK: DL :: AB: CD; AE: BF:: CG: DH and also C D KM: LN :: BF: DH , which will show the similarity of the curves. It is actually rather easy to prove this, at least in a special case: let there be two exponential curves, with "corresponding ordinates" AE and BF on the first curve and CG and DH on the second, and let K and L be two other points, one on each axis, situated so that AB and BK are commensurable, CD and DL are commensurable and (see Figure 6) Having made these assumptions, this in brief is how I will go about showing the similarity of all exponential curves. I will first set up "corresponding parts" of any two curves, as follows. Let us assume that on any two exponential curves there is a pair of ordinates on one which are proportional to some pair of ordinates on the other, and also that the distances between them are in that same ratio. That is,·corresponding to A and B on the first axis let's say that there are C and D on the second such that T?e purpose of this section is to provide intuitive clarity, not A 8 then FIG.4 full ngor: we want to understand enough about these curves to get a feel for why they are similar. I'll start by defining them. {~xis Now, given these corresponding parts, I will show that if any other points are similarly placed along the axis, then the corresponding ordinates will be proportional as well - that is, if in Figures BK: DL :: AB: CD , 1 A B K L FIG.5 then I say that KM: LN :: BF: DH . For, since they are commensurable, AB and BK have the ratio of some number to some other number (Euclid X. 5), and so do CD and DL; but they're in the same ratio, so they are to one another as the same number is to the same number. Therefore, a unit exists on the first axis which measures AB and BK, and another unit on the second which measures CD and DL, and AB contains the same number of its units as CD does of its units, and BK the same number of its units as DL of its units. Therefore on each curve we can set up a series of continuously-proportional ordinates including all our ordinates, with the same number of new ordinates intervening between the corresponding original ones. AE: BF and CG: DH are the same ratio. Each of these ratios is produced by a smaller ratio (the one between any two adjacent ordinates) compounded with itself the same number of times. Now, if two ratios which are compounded with themselves the same number of times give the same ratio, they too must be the same ratio. For example, "subduplicates" of the same ratio are M Q c. D LP FIG.7 I hope that this treatment, especially the device of imagining a crowded series of continuously-proportional lines, will help you visualize what it is about exponential curves that makes them all similar. 43 �By the way, it is easy to see why ex and aex are not only similar but identical if one uses some things proved in Appendix II. As a bonus for those of you who read that Appendix, I include as Appendix III a proof that those two curves are identical. I'd like to close with a remark about the significance of the famous number e, 2.71828 or whatever. As we have seen, there is absolutely nothing geometrically unique about the ex curve, as opposed to 2x or any other base. The ex curve is not a special case in a family of curves: it's exactly the same curve as all other exponential curves. Consequently e has no geometrical significance whatsoever, as the base of a special exponential curve. As a special base, the importance of e is entirely an artifact of algebra, and above all the calculus. On the other hand, e does have a geometrical significance, and in fact one which extends over the exponential curve as such - so that e is both more and less important than one might think at first. That significance has to do with the tangent. On any exponential curve, the segments cut off on the axis by the tangents at any points and the ordinates to those points are all equal, no matter where the points are on the curve. I give proofs of this in Appendix IV. That segment can be taken as a fundamental measure of the "size" of the curve, like the parameter to the axis of a parabola or the diameter of a circle. Well, it turns out that on any exponential curve, any two ordinates that are just that constant distance apart are in the ratio e : 1. Thus, in its own way e is as indissolubly linked to all exponential curves as pi is to all circles. Now it is obviously convenient, in algebraic analysis of exponential curves, to pick that length as the unit; and so it is this geometric fact which underlies the immense convenience of the number e in the algebra and calculus connected with these curves. Appendix II: Auxiliary Proofs PROOF 1: Proportional pairs of orc. J nates exist on any two exponential curves. For, in any series of increasingly long, continuously-proportional lines, each increment is longer than the last (in fact each such pair of increments is in the same ratio as the lines themselves, by Bue. V. 12). Therefore, since you're adding ever-increasing increments without end, the longest line can be made longer than any given length, no matter how small the shortest line is. Thus the ratio between some two of these lines can be larger than an~· given ratio. Furthermore, we are assuming that on our curves the ordinates increase continuously, so that you can get any ratio in between. Therefore, all you have to do is pick a reasonably large ratio on the first curve, and you 're assured that two ordinates exist in that ratio on the second. PROOF 2: On any two exponential curves, there exist proportional ordinates which are situated at proportional distances. One way of seeing this is by first establishing a preliminary fact. Indeed this fact will be so important in understanding these curves that I'm going to call it a theorem. THEOREM I. On any exponential curve all pairs of ordinates that are at equal distances are proportional. I must first restrict myself to commensurable distances. That is, given an exponential curve and random ordinates AB and CD, pick ordinates EF and GH, such that EG=AC and also such that AE is commensurable with AC. That being the case, I say that N B_~ ---1r, t[_ ± A AC= EG- E C. G- Case 1- overlappin!J se9»unts y-t).X/5 FIG.8 FIG.10 Now we can prove that somewhere on our two curv~s we c~ find proportional ordinates which are also at proportional di~­ tances. For on each curve, given a pair of ordinates in any ratio whatever, other pairs of ordinates exist in that same r~ti~, getting longer and longer without limit as we move to the ngh~, but all at the same distance from each other. Therefore, smce the ordinates increase but the distances between them do not, by suitable placement the ratios AE: AB and CG: CD can be i;nade as great as we please. Thus, picking a reasonably large rati~ on our first curve, we can be assured that on the other curve pmnts can be found such that AC.= EG- FIG.6 bis Appendix III: That ex and aex are the same curve. For, for given any numbers a, p and q, and so ex and aex can be described geometrically as curves which have the same axis and for which any two pairs of ordinates from the same two points on the axis are proportion~. Consequent!!, however, any two ordinates on one curve are m the same rat10 as any two ordinate at an equal distance on the other curve, by Theorem I. fun' Now the ordinates on both curves get longer without It, as also ~roved in Appendix I, so that for any ordinate AB on the higher curve there must somewhere be an ~qual ordi.nate CD on the lower curve, as in Figure 11. But now if any ordinate on the lower curve is at the same distance from CD that another o~ the higher curve is from AB, these two will be in the same ratio as AB and CD, again by Theorem I. Therefore they're e_qual: all ordinates at equal distances from AB and CD, respectively, are equal. AE: AB :: CG: CD Ct1se 2- Non-overl11p;iir19 5egr'Ylenf-s AE::CGor, alternating, ( aJ< : J< : : (). : 1 ) rl AB: CD:: EF: GF. Appendix I: Fitting an equation to the exponential curve. Call the axis as defined above the "x-axis;" pick an origin at random; pick a unit length at random. The numerical value of a is then determined by the ratio between the unit and the ordinate to the curve at x = 0. Now go out one unit to the right. The ratio of the ordinate there, at x= 1, to the unit, then determines the numerical value of aK (or aek). By suitable choices for both origin and unit you can get any values for a and k. For because of the commensurability there is a unit of length whi~h measures the whole interval AG and the smaller intervals AE, EC and CG (or AC, CE and EG). Therefore there exists one series of continuously-proportional lines, which includes our four ordinates and a bunch of intervening lines. But EG = AC, so each pair of our ordinates has the same number of ~ontinu­ ously-proportional lines between them. So the tw~ ratios AB: CD and EF: GH are compounded of the same ratio the same number of times. Therefore, ex aequali, they're the same ratio. The same is true of any other equidistant pair in this series. Thus far I have only proven this for commensurably-situated ordinates. But these can be found as close as we like to the location of all pairs of incommensurably-situated ordinates the same distance apart. So, if EG = AC but AE and AG are not commensurable with AC, it is possible to place Kand Min such a way the KM is commensurable with AC, it is possible ~o place Kand Min such a way that KM is commensurable with AC, KM= AC= EG, and KE and MG are smaller than any given distance. Therefore KL and MN can be chosen closer in size to EF and GH than any given difference. Now KL and MN are proportional to AB and CD; and ifEF and GH weren't proportional to KL and MN (and thus to AB and CD), they'd have to differ from them by some finite lengths. This is impossible, however, for given any finite differences we can find a KL and MN closer in length to EF and GH than them. Therefore EF and GH must be proportional. Q.E.D. AE: CG :: AB: CD , which is what we needed. FIG.11 FIG.9 44 45 �Appendix IV: That all tangents and ordinates cut off equal segments on the axis. Algebraically, this follows from the famous fact that the derivative of ex equals ex. Recall that the derivative gives you the "rise over run" of the tangent, while the function itself give just the "rise," i.e. the height of the point of tangency, above the x-axis. So for all x, the "rise over run" equals the "rise" from the x-axis: therefore the "run" along the x-axis everywhere equals 1. A geometrical proof can also be given. This, too, depends on Theorem I from Appendix II. Let EFGHefgh be an exponential curve, with ordinates AB, DF, ... ae, df &c. as in Figure 12. Let AB equal ab. Let the line AGK touch the curve at G, so that it and the ordinate CG cut off AC on the axis. Let ac equal AC, and draw the line agk. I say that agk is tangent to the curve. so that DM: DF :: dm: df, Euc. V. 9 and alternating. Similarly BN:BH::bn:bh, and so on for all ordinates at equal distances from A and a, respectively. Therefore, if DM is less than DF, then dm is less than df; if BN is less than BH, then bn is less than bh, and so on for all such pairs of ordinates. Therefore the line amgnk is below the curves everywhere except g, just as AMGNK is below the curve everywhere except G. Therefore amgnk touches the curve at g; and it cuts off, with its ordinates cg, ac on the axis equal to AC cutoff by AMGNK. Therefore &c. Q.E.D. Actually, I haven't proved that the line AMGNK is indeed everywhere between the curve and the axis, but if you go back to the definition of the curve and use Euclid VI, it's pretty easy to see for yourself. k FIG.12 For, by Theorem I the ordinates at equal distances are proportional, i.e. AB : ae :: CG : cg :: BH : bh ; but now by Euclid Bk. VI (I'm not going to go through all the steps; they're quite easy) AGK and agk, as they cross ordinates at equal distances, cut off proportional segments on them, all of which are in the same ratio as CG: cg. For example, if D and d are placed so that AD = ad, then DM: dm :: CG : cg . But since AD= ad, Theorem I also applies, and DF: df:: CG: cg , Balance Jeff Seidman 47 46 �Two Humors Ellen M. Myers Machiavelli opens a chapter on the creation of the Roman tribunes with the remark, "All writers on politics have pointed out, and throughout history there are plenty of examples which indicate, that in constituting and legislating for a commonwealth it must needs be taken for granted that all men are wicked and that they will always give vent to the malignity that is in their minds when opportunity offers" (Discourses 1.3). This sounds as though Machiavelli has decided to dismiss the populace as worthless and dangerous. But a few lines later, he summarizes the _history of the offenses of the nobility against the plebeians, saymg, But, no sooner were the Tarquins dead and the fears of the nobility removed, than they began to vomit forth against the plebs the poison hid in their hearts and to oppress them in every way they could. This bears out what has been said above, namely, that men never do good unless necessity drives them to it; but when they are too free to choose and can do just as they please, confusion and disorder become everywhere rampant. (D 1.3) It is clearer in this second passage that when he refers to the men who "never do good," he has primarily the offenses of the nobility in mind; although perhaps the aristocracy and the masses are jointly guilty of causing "confusion and disorder." These remarks open an extended discussion of the difference between these two groups, here beginning in sections 1.4 through 1.6, but recurring throughout The Prince and The Discourses. He makes this one of his themes very early in Discourses 1.4 when he writes, "Nor do they [readers of Roman history] realize that in every republic there are two different dispositions [due urrwri diver si], that of the populace and that of the upper class and that all legislation favourable to liberty is brought about by the clash between them." But what are these two different dispositions, that is, what is the character of each group? Surprisingly, it turns out that rather few generalizations are made about the nobility apart from contrasting them to the masses. A number of specific examples are given of the behavior of the nobilities of Rome, Athens, Sparta, Venice and Florence in different events, but they are not much discussed in the abstract. The nobilities of two aristocratic cities, Venice and Sparta, are singled out for further consideration in Discourses 1.6. The oligarchy in Venice was "due to chance rather than to the prudence of its legislators," in that it was based on early residence in the city; latecomers became the general populace, and could not dispute established custom. In Sparta, the nobility was also defined early, and was distinguished by its equal distribution of (and comparative lack ot) luxury. In both cases, however, the oligarchical government could be maintained because, first of all, the plebeians did not engage in warfare, and hence never became dangerous; and secondly, the number of foreigners admitted to the city was strictly limited. So in no fashion were 48 either the numbers or the ambitions of the plebeians augmented. In Venice, this was possible due to a certain geographical isolation and continued numerical superiority: "Besides, there were not many who came later to dwell in Venice, nor where they so numerous as to upset the balance between rulers and ruled; for the number of gentlefolk was either equal to, or greater than, that of the newcomers" (D 1.6). In Sparta, this isolation took more the form of a cultural separ~tion from the rest of Greece. Thus, in history, the most successful oligarchies are isolationist and conservative in character. Sparta and Venice are used throughout The Discourses as examples of successful, long-lived, and relatively benign oligarchies. Far more instances are quoted of foolish, wicked, and self-destructive groups of nobility; for example: For since such a state [an oligarchy replacing a formerly free city] has been created by that prince, it knows it cannot stand without his friendship and power, and it has to do everything to maintain him. And a city used to living free may be held more easily by means of its own citizens that in any other mode, if one wants to preserve it. (P 5) That is, a formerly free city may be held by the treachery and sycophancy of its nobility. On the whole, however, there are rather few general descriptions given of the upper classes, except of their tendency to oppress the masses. So it is easiest to consider the two groups by examining the differences Machiavelli points out between them. Machiavelli's "populace" is seen in a surprisingly favorable light, when all is said and done. They may be sheep, they may be gullible, and he may say rather less than the average political writer about the Common Good, but a close reading reveals quite a number of times in which he assumes and counts upon their essential decency. They exhibit, collectively, a baseline level of common sense, tolerance, and enlightened self-interest that could stand as an example to their wealthier counterparts. They are sometimes fickle: " ...the nature of peoples is variable; and it is easy to persuade them of something, but difficult to keep them in that persuasion" (P 6). On the whole, though, they can be counted on to acknowledge good sense and act on it: "And though, as Tully remarks, the populace may be ignorant, it is capable of grasping the truth and readily yields when a man, worthy of confidence, lays the truth before it" (D 1.4). This common sense and good judgement are what often save the city in times of trouble, and should be the desiderata of any good ruler: "I will conclude only that for a prince it is necessary to have the people friendly; otherwise he has no remedy in adversity" (P 9). Not only is the populace a bulwark against adversity (hostile nobles, external invasion). In some sense it is also the standard against which successful government is measured: " ...I look upon those rulers as unhappy who, to make their government secure, have to adopt abnormal methods because they find the masses hostile" (D 1.16). Machiavelli has a great deal to say about these abnormal methods, the dictatorial authority necessary to reform a state or lead it in time of war. He speaks approvingly and at length about the leader who has the virtu and audacity to take command in such a situation. Yet here he acknowledges that, after all, such methods are abnormal and unhappy to the one forced to make use of them. The basic difference between the humors of the people and the nobility is in their ambition, of which the populace has relatively little: "The demands of a free populace, too, are very seldom harmful to liberty, for they are due either to the populace being oppressed or to the suspicion that it is going to be oppressed ..." (D 1.4). And, says Machiavelli, the impression is rightly founded, because as he has already said, the nobility will only do right by the masses under the force of necessity. Or, as he says in the Prince, For in every city these two diverse humors [umori] are found, which arises from this: that the people desire neither to be commanded nor oppressed by the great, and the great desire to command and oppress the people.... Besides this, one cannot satisfy the great with decency and without injury to others, but one can satisfy the people; for the end of the people is more decent than that of the great, since the great want to oppress and the people want not to be oppressed. (P 9) It is true that, if sufficiently provoked, the masses will attempt to avenge themselves on their oppressors: " ...What I say is that he [a prince] ought first to ask what it is that the people desire, and that he will always find that they desire two things: (i) to avenge themselves against the persons who have been the cause of their servitude, and (ii) to regain their freedom" (D 1.16). This vengeance can be bloody, as when Cesare Borgia had his minister sliced in half in the city of Cesena: "The ferocity of this spectacle left the people at once satisfied and stupefied" (P 7). But it is Cesare's action; to the people, it is a spectacle that overwhelms. This look at the difference between the two humors of populace and nobility, I hope, will shed some light on some similar contrasts which Machiavelli draws in other areas. On the level of states, for example, there are two major considerations: what the city itself desires, and what it believes its neighbors desire. In large measure, it is its own disposition and its perception of others' dispositions that will control how aggressive it is. "For war is made on a commonwealth for two reasons: (i) to subjugate it, and (ii) for fear of being subjugated by it" (D 1.6). If a state appears fearsome, it will trigger the same fear of oppression in its neighbors which the plebeians feel in the face of their opponents the nobility. Machiavelli warns against giving this impression unnecessarily, as it invites attack. On the other hand, the attacking city may simply be of an expansionist disposition; in which case, the only defense is to appear strongly defended, or not worth conquering. Similarly, independently of its neighbors, a city can have one or both of two general goals: " ... a city in which freedom prevails has two ends in view. One is to enlarge its dominions; the other is to keep itself free. In both it can err by excess" (DJ .29). The excesses and dangers of expansion are obvious, and Machiavelli spends a number of sections discussing them. The excesses of freedom are harder to imagine, and Machiavelli is not especially persuasive. His major point seems to be that one can be unnecessarily suspicious; this would seem to be related to his discourses on ingratitude: ''The vice of ingratitude arises either from avarice or from suspicion" (D 1.29). Avarice, a greedy desire to enrich oneself at the expense of someone to whom a debt of gratitude is owed, is far more a failing of the prince or any small ruling class, where the personal impact will be felt, than·it is of the people as a whole. Suspicion can be a failing of either a prince or the populace, though it is more likely that the prince will be guilty of it. But in either case, more than avarice, suspicion is an essentially conservative and defensive trait. One fears that the successful general may become the oppressor, like the aggressive neighboring state, or like the nobility against the plebeians. In summary thus far, Machiavelli posits two different sorts of temperament to be found within a city, and two sorts of interests in the city as a whole. In both cases, one is essentially conservative, isolationist, and negatively defined: the city wishes to remain free, and fears its expansionist neighbor. The populace wishes only not to be oppressed. As Machiavelli describes it in The Discourses, this is "the possibility of enjoying what one has, freely and without incurring suspicion, for instance, the assurance that one's wife and children will be respected, the absence of fear for oneself... " (D 1.16). This impulse is to preserve the status quo in a peaceable fashion, whenever possible. In opposition to this live-and-let-live attitude is the equally universal one of aggrandizement. The nobles are ambitious; they wish to expand their privileges at the expense of the masses. States, in general, keep one eye on the weakness of their neighbors and exploit it as soon as it becomes evident. It's a dog-eatdog world, and the meek are likely to have the worst of it. The very nature of life ensures that. "Nor have I the least doubt that, if this balance [the status quo] could be maintained, there would be genuine political life and real tranquility in such a city. Since, however, all human affairs are ever in a state of flux and cannot stand still, either there will be improvement or decline, and necessity will lead you to do many things which reason does not recommend" (D 1.6). We would somehow expect, from what we've seen so far, that the expansionist city would be found in tandem with an expansionist form of government, i.e., an oligarchy. At this point, Machiavelli's analysis is astutely based on experience rather than reason and similarity. In The Discourses 1.4 - 1.6, he points out that this is exactly the opposite of the real situation. A city, even an empire such as Venice's or Sparta's, which has an oligarchy in charge generally assumes a defensive character. Its acquisitions are strategic, designed to protect the existing interests of the city; and it poses no threat to its immediate neighbors for at least long stretches of its lifetime. On the other hand, for a 49 �republic to expand, it should be governed in large part by the people: Should, then, anyone be about to set up a republic, he should first inquire whether it is to expand, as Rome did, both in dominion and in power, or is to be confined to narrow limits. In the first case it is essential to constitute it as Rome was constituted and to expect commotions and disputes of all kinds which much be dealt with as best they can, because without a large population, and this well armed, such a republic will never be able to grow, or to hold its own should it grow. In the second case it might be constituted as Sparta and Venice were, but, since expansion is poison to republics of this type, it should use every endeavour to prevent it from expanding, for expansion, when based on a weak republic, simply means ruin. This happened both in Sparta's case and in that of Venice. (D 1.6) An oligarchy may prove to be expansionist, but will probably prove too weak, as Machiavelli's later image of trnnk and branch illustrates. But in order to expand, a large, armed and active populace is essential. "In the first case it is necessary to do in all things as Rome did. In the second case it is possible to imitate Venice and Sparta... " (D 1.5, emphasis mine). A large populace is essential to expansion, and expansion will prove essential to a large populace. Though they individually desire only "not to be oppressed," the simple pressure of population growth will force them to grow larger; and the example of a large, active, and growing city will probably encourage at least some of its neighbors to choose alliance or union over enmity and defeat. Still, it seems perverse in some way that the nobility, which has expansionist tendencies within the city, should be essentially conservative in dealing with outsiders. This is explained, however, by the Hobbesian remarks Machiavelli makes in his section on the "haves" and the "have-nots:" There arose considerable discussion as to whether the 'haves' or the 'have-nots' were the more ambitious, for the appetites of both [l' urw e l' altro appetito] might easily become the cause of no small disturbance. Actually, however, such disturbances are more often caused by the 'haves', since the fear of losing what they have arouses in them the same inclination we find in those who want to get more, for men are inclined to think that they cannot hold securely what they possess unless they get more at others' expense. (D 1.5) So we realize that, although property often becomes ours through an acquisitive instinct, it remains ours through a conservative one; in fact, it is the very occasion of a defensive posture. How can we defend what is ours if we have nothing to lose? On the other hand, if we have nothing because we are essentially peaceable and unambitious, then we are almost certain to need and want something that isn't ours already, even if it is only freedom from oppression. Thus, the two humors of the city are not only in tension with one another, but in a real sense, they create one another. This reminds us of a phrase in The Prince. In speaking of these two dispositions of the city, Machiavelli talks about their results: "For in every city these two diverse humors are found, which arises from this: that the people desire neither to be 50 commanded nor oppressed by the great, and the great desire to command and oppress the people. From these two diverse appetites one of three effects occurs in cities: principality or liberty or license" (P 9, emphasis added). This is very similar to what he has already said about the Roman republic, that its liberty wasn't threatened by the tumults of the populace; in fact, liberty was the very result of the constant quarrel between the nobility and the people. "All legislation favourable to liberty is brought about by the clash between them" (D 1.4). Nor would Rome have been outwardly successful if this had not been the case. If Rome had preferred internal peace, then "in seeking to remove the causes of tumults, Rome would have removed also the causes of expansion" (D 1.6). Rome obtained the happiest of the three possible outcomes, liberty rather than license or principality. The liberty is the result of a balance between the two humors. Excessive domination by the people would lead to license; by the nobility, to principality. But is this true? Perhaps, on the other hand, excessive domination by the corrupt nobility is what can lead to license, since the people are rather conservative in comparison. As he writes in Discourses 1.3, " ...when they are too free to choose and can do just as they please, confusion and disorder become everywhere rampant." Or, perhaps the increasing license of a democracy would cause a revulsion into tyranny, as Machiavelli suggests in Discourses 1.2. How confusing these two dispositions are! Every time we seem to be in a position to apply labels to two oppositions, the answer eludes us. It is interesting that a third option, liberty, is available within the city, and that it derives (in the case of Rome) from hammering out the differences between the nobility and the plebeians through the public institutions. Liberty, or at least stability, is also possible through the intervention of a strong man with a clear vision of the reforms and balances he wishes to institute. It seems that the two dispositions within a city can arrive at a useful compromise if there is some common authority to which they are both accountable. In the case of Rome and many other republics, this authority lay in the agreed-upon institutions with their dynamic balance. In other cities and during transitional times, the authority generally lies with one person. But some control is exerted on both dispositions. Why doesn't this work in the relations between whole states? Because they have no common authority. If they did - if two or more cities could appeal their disputes to a higher authority, they would not be independent states, but parts of a larger whole, and the dispute would be an internal one that would fall into the natural jurisdiction of the common ruler. In the terminology of Hobbes, the men of a city are in civil compact with one another, but cities are in a state of nature or (frequently) war among themselves. Let's consider another instance. Machiavelli spends a tremendous proportion of both The Prince and The Discourses on Livy's discussion of the methods of foundation and reform. One of his primary concerns is the consideration of when, whether, and how change should be introduced, and on what principles a city should be organized in the first place. One of the institutions necessary to a city is the ability to reform itself within law, so that extraordinary measures will not be required. Change is seen as inevitable, and so it must be accommodated. Ideally, such change could grow out of the inherent tensions between the two humors of the city, as it did in Rome's case. Very often, however, drastic change will require the intervention of some strong individual (whether inside existing institutions, as the Roman dictatorship, or outside when the institutions are inflexible or the populace is corrupt). The degree of authority that Machiavelli is willing, indeed eager, to bestow on this individual is quite extraordinary: One should take it as a general rule that rarely, if ever, does it happen that a state, whether it be a republic or a kingdom, is either well-ordered at the outset or radically transfonned vis-avis its old institutions unless this be done by one person.... Wherefore the prudent organizer of a state whose intention it is to govern not in his own interests but for the common good, and not in the interests of his successors but for the sake of that fatherland which is common to all, should contrive to be alone in his authority .... It is a sound maxim that reprehensible actions may be justified by their effects, and that when the effect is good, as it was in the case of Romulus, it always justifies the action. For it is the man who uses violence to spoil things, not the man who uses it to mend them, that is blameworthy. (D 1.9) We will come back to the question of a ruler's severity later. For now, it's interesting to note that Machiavelli is actually talking about two sorts of change, foundation and reform. And when we examine reform itself more closely, we find that a portion of his comments apply to renovation, while others apply to innovation, and that there is a considerable difference between the methods of the two, though both aim at promoting stability. Innovation is both easy and difficult, because men are both attracted to and worried by novelty: " ... Men are by nature inclined to look with favour on new enterprises; a favour which is likely to be bestowed, above all else, on enterprises which seem to have in them a certain virility and which are taken up by young men" (D 1.33). Current interests drive out considerations of the past: "For a new prince is observed much more in his actions than a hereditary one; and when they are recognized as virtuous, they take hold of men much more and obligate them much more than ancient blood. For men are much more taken by present things than by past ones, and when they find good in the present, they enjoy it and do not seek elsewhere ..." (P 24). On the other hand, the novelty value (which appeals to men's expansive, audacious nature) can wear thin when faced with the fears and suspicions of man's natural conservatism: Those like these men, who become princes by the paths of virtue, acquire their principality with difficulty but hold it with ease; and the difficulties they have in acquiring their principality arise in part from the new orders and modes that they are forced to introduce so as to found their state and their security. And it should be considered that nothing is more difficult to handle, more doubtful of success, nor more dangerous to manage, than to put oneself at the head of introducing new orders. For the introducer has all those who benefit from the old orders as enemies, and he has lukewarm defenders in all those who might benefit from the new orders. This lukewarmness arises partly from fear of adversaries who have the laws on their side and partly from the incredulity of men, who do not truly believe in new things unless they come to have a firm experience of them . Consequently, whenever those who are enemies have opportunity to attack, they do so with partisan zeal, and the others defend lukewarmly so that one is in peril along with them. It is however necessary, if one wants to discuss this aspect well, to examine whether these innovators stand by themselves or depend on others; that is, whether to carry out their deed they must beg or indeed can use force. In the first case they always come to ill and never accomplish anything; but when they depend on their own and are able to use force, then it is that they are rarely in peril. From this it arises that all the armed prophets conquered and the unarmed ones were ruined. (P 6) This long quotation spells out very neatly the problems of introducing "new orders." Men are unable to believe what they have not yet seen, and they continue to anticipate and fear the powers of the old order. Despite their attraction to the opportunities offered by novelty, their essentially conservative fears usually win out and they hold back to see the outcome of the confrontation. This resistant passivity, and the tendency of the people to be won over to new ideas but not steady in these new convictions, means that the ruler must use whatever force is necessary to accomplish his ends. Reason and persuasion are not enough; good intentions are not enough. He must enforce his vision on a reluctant population. That is, in order to overcome the passive, unaggressive humor of the people, he must employ his own active virtu to force the innovations he sees as necessary. If effectively done, the results will be praiseworthy - regardless of the means. In contrast to the innovation of new institutions, whether as part of founding a new society or as a much-needed reform, the renovation of a state is essentially a conservative process. The need is to return to the virtues of one's ancestors: " ...Those changes make for their conservation which lead them back to their origins .... The way to renovate them, as has been said, is to reduce them to their starting-points" (D 3.1). In this section, Machiavelli does not even point out that the starting-point must have been a sound one; the assumption seems to be that any lasting institution was originally founded on good principles, and these need only be rediscovered. Often enough, these principles are either explicitly religious or, at very least, moral in nature insofar as "moral" in Machiavellian terms means "not corrupt," that is, neither effeminate nor bribable nor devoted to selfish pleasures and luxuries. The reason for this return to origins seems to lie very close to Machiavelli's appreciation of history- at least, of the great and successful examples in history: For since men almost always walk on paths beaten by others and proceed in their actions by imitation, unable, either to stay on the paths of others altogether or to attain the virtue of those whom you imitate, a prudent man should always enter upon the paths beaten by great men, and imitate those who have been most excellent, so that if his own virtue does not reach that far, it is at least in the odor of it. (P 6) 51 �Imitation becomes a reasonable substitute for active virtue of one's own. If a prince hasn't the type of brain which sees for itself, he must at least have the sort which can judge the reports which others bring to him. From examining the two humors and the two goals of the city, as well as innovation versus renovation, we seem to have arrived back at Machiavelli's perplexing use of the word virtu. At times, Machiavelli uses this term as if it implied nothing more than strength and audacity, for example when speaking of Agathocles (Prince 8) or Cesare Borgia. At other times, he talks as if it has what we would term a moral connotation, as when he finally concludes of Agathocles: For, if one considers the virtue of Agathocles in entering into and escaping from dangers, and the greatness of his spirit in enduring and overcoming adversities, one does not see why he has to be judged inferior to any most excellent captain. Nonetheless, his savage cruelty and inhumanity, together with his infinite crimes, do not allow him to be celebrated among the most excellent men. Thus, one cannot attribute to fortune or to virtue what he achieved without either. (P 8) There are thus at least two sorts of virtue for Machiavelli. He writes of whether a ruler should prefer being loved or feared, whether he should rule with mercy and sociability or cruelty and severity (Prince 17; Discourses 3.22). He praises Romulus and Tullus for their warlike nature, but Numa who came between them for introducing religion. There are two forces at work here, both of them important and valuable, and each having its function. In Discourses 3.9, he speaks of adapting to the times. Piero Soderini, that decent man, failed because he did not exercise sufficient virtue (audacity). Pope Julius II, who succeeded because of his audacity, would have failed had the temper of the times changed. Both things need to be kept in mind. "Very rarely do Men know how to be either Wholly Good or Wholly Bad" is a shocking title for Discourses 1.27, but it summarizes his view that both are necessary and effective if applied in turn, at the right time. It is the attempt to compromise between the aggressive and the peaceable, the active and the passive, the cruel and the tolerant, that leads to disaster. Balance must not be construed as wishy-washiness. Even Fortune itself has aspects of both the conservative and the audacious. On the one hand, he says that "it is bette1 to be impetuous than cautious, because fortune is a woman; and it is necessary, if one wants to hold her down, to beat her and strike her down. And one sees that she lets herself be won more by the impetuous than by those who proceed coldly" (P 25). On the other hand, in the letter in which he writes to his friend Vettori that he has just completed The Prince, he praises the quiet and disciplined life his friend is leading: "And because Fortune wants to do everything, she wants us to allow her to do it, to remain quiet and not give trouble, and to await the time at which she allows men something to do; and then it will be right for you to give more effort.... " An amazing contrast in the images of Lady Fortuna! Yet it makes sense when we begin to realize that, in 52 fortune, as in cities and in individuals, there are two humors. We cannot ignore either except at our peril. Sometimes these two humors are in constructive competition. Sometimes they tear one another apart. In some respects, each begets the other. At times audacity is called for; at other times, a cool head. Sometimes the two dispositions are so confused (in the literal sense, fused together) that we cannot be sure which is which or what the outcome may be. "So that this is just one of those things in which evil is so closely associated with good, and so bound up are they one with the other, that it may easily happen that he who thinks he will get one, gets the other" (D 3.37). Given all these difficulties, it seems we can only summon both our courage and our wits, draw on the examples of history, and do the best we can to balance the two humors: Nor should any state ever believe that is can always adopt safe courses; on the contrary, it should think it has to talce them all as doubtful. For in the order of things it is found that one never seeks to avoid one inconvenience without running into another; but prudence consists in knowing how to recognize the qualities of inconveniences, and in picking the less bad as good. (P 21) The Wrath of Aeneas Donna Schueler Near the beginning of this poem that sings of a man and his fate, Virgil wonders, in horror, about the gods - are their minds moved by unrelenting wrath? Aeneas, sings the poet, is a man remarkable for goodness; by poem's end, he will have become a man of whom it can be said, his wrath is godlike. Pious Aeneas, hounded by the wrath of Satumian Juno throughout the poem, is, at its end, caught in the unyielding grip of Saturnian rage, a rage which fills the poet with horror. The wrath of this good man will be as unrelenting as that of the goddess. It is a redoubtable transformation the poet gives us; why does he give it? A man remarkable for piety, and his fate - does fate require of this man more than piety; is piety insufficient to his hard fate? Our first encounter with Aeneas in fury is not in the present tense; nor does his fury play itself out. He is recounting for Dido the tale of his city's fall. In his narration, he has come upon Helen. She is crouched in terror beside an altar, the altar standing among the fifty bridal chambers of Priam's daughters. Seeing her there, a fire bums in Aeneas' mind, anger spurs him to avenge his falling city. He knows that he is mad, that to kill a woman, even the Laconian woman, is at best a dubious thing. But the bitterness in his heart drives him after her. And then Venus comes between them; the fury of this man remarkable for piety gives way. The poet has not made us witnesses; we hear, with Dido, an account of forestalled violence, of a fury that relented. What can happen, so that by poem's end, pious Aeneas comprises a rage equal to the rage of High Ones, equally relentless? Aeneas remains with Dido for a full year. What could make him so heedless, knowing what the future holds in Hesperia, for him and all his line? The need to resupply stores and revive his weary men would not want so long a time. Such needs as these would not keep him the whole year at Carthage, building Dido's walls, heedless of his own great walls, which have still to be raised in Aussonia. This is pious Aeneas, son of Venus by Anchises; he bears with him the household gods of Troy, entrusted to his keeping by great-hearted Hector, and he is not building the walls which are his fate. It will want much to make this man stray so far from his fate that Jove must send Mercury with high remonstration. It will want much, and yet Aeneas' lingering, his role in the love-story, is not the result of divine machination. Did~, on the other hand, has been seduced by a power larger than herself or Aeneas. It is necessary that she abandon her pious vows to the dead Sychaeus, and this has required the intervention of Venus. The goddess has sent Cupid in the guise of Ascanius: Dido has dandled him on her lap, kissed him tenderly. And all the while Cupid/Ascanius invades her body with the fiery poison his mother has prescribed. No such inflammatory measure has been taken with Aeneas. When he comes to their encaved 'marriage,' Apollo to her Diana, (see N, 172-210) no god has impassioned Aeneas. What Venus wakes up in Dido is present in her already, waiting there susceptible of arousal, ready for the divine ruse. But it has wanted the divine nudge. On the other hand, what Dido's beauty arouses in Aeneas is wakened solely by her. It has not been necessary that Juno devise the infiltration of his soul when he mates with Dido, he is entirely his own man. It is true that Juno and Venus have brought them to the cave, but to Aeneas himself they have done no more than this. We take new measure here of Aeneas' greatness; for all nature attends this marriage. Primal Earth aids Juno, fiery lightning flashes, and the upper air is witness when Dido and the son of Anchises mate. To achieve this, Dido has been inflamed by Venus, but the psyche of Aeneas has needed no divine push. It has not required the gods' contrivance to rouse Aeneas to so great a passion, but it will want divine intervention to recall him to his reason. Jove must send Mercury to rebuke him, to recall him to his fated walls and the glory waiting for Ascanius. When he is mindful once again of who he is, Aeneas burns for the onward-going, burns to be underway. This is the first time we have seen him impassioned for the walls he must raise in Latium. But before he can go, there is Dido. Who knows. She lashes out at him in fury, denouncing him as a deceiver and breaker of vows. Aeneas' reply to her is heart-wrenching; we see his heart wrenched. He protests his love for her in a way bitterly ironic in light of what is to come; and yet what more could a lover who is compelled to leave behind him his beloved ever say? These are his words: "I never shall regret remembering Elissa for as long as I remember my own self, as long as breath is king over these limbs." (N, 451-54) Strange words. For this is Aeneas, a man for whom (despite his Carthaginian exile) self and fate are inextricable: To remember himself is to remember his fate; to remember his fate is to leave her; remembering his fate he will remember Dido - what do they mean, these words? He tells her that Apollo's oracle, and Mercury and his father's anxious image urge him; Lycian prophecies tell him that Italy must be his love. It is not his free will, says Aeneas, that leads him to that other love. Dido reviles him. Growing more and more delirious, she says that truly this is the work of High Ones. In fury she tells him to go; heaping curses, she says she will not keep him back. She leaves Aeneas groaning, "shaken in his mind because of his great love." (IV, 542-43) She leaves him hesitating, in fear, and longing to soothe her. But his piety turns him toward his ships, toward that other love, to Italy. When Anna comes to him to make Dido's plea for empty time, even in his great strength, Aeneas is shaken. He stands as a great oak, its crown touching the stars, its roots reaching to Tartarus, the poet says. But Anna's assiduous words are like north winds. The great oak shakes in this wind; it does not fall. Dido wakens in Aeneas for the first time in the memory of the poem an elemental, even a bestial, passion. When he leaves her, he can say for the first time that he loves Italy; for the first time he burns to accomplish his fate. Virgil makes Aeneas tell the reader, in his reply to Dido's accusations, how this has come about: love for Italy derives from love of Dido, love of Dido is 53 �transformed, to love of Italy. That irrational energy which she has aroused, the passion which love of Dido sets loose in his soul is now set toward Italy, transferred to his hard fate. Now Aenea~ has what it talces. I believe this is what Virgil signals when he says in Book VII, "Sing Erato." Sing not the passion of your ~sual song, sing rather what such passions can become. Sing that m some fundamental way it is all one. Without the unfated, uncivilized marriage with Dido, the fateful and lawful marriage with Lavinia might not come to be. Aeneas has begun to learn the significance of the not-good, of the irrational. Until his time with Dido, all that Aeneas has known comes ':ithin the scope of civilization. When he arrives at Carthage he fmds scenes of Troy, splendidly wrought scenes of his greathearted city that fell. When he looks back on Carthage from his ~eeing ship, he sees a sight which can only look to him like Troy m flames. Between the two simulacra of Troy lies a space of time he ~o~~d nei~er tame, no~ prevent, a time unfated and utterly unc1~ihzed. Like the mamage of Paris and Helen, the marriage of Dido and Aeneas - bestial, elemental, pointedly uncivilized - has destroyed civilization. Does Aeneas need to live the violence of such passion himself before he can know that while it has nothing to do with civilized ways, it is yet ge~uinely human, and so, ineluctable as any fate? He arrives at Carthage knowing all there is to know about pious ways and civil man. Does his uncivilized marriage say to us that this is insufficient to secure his long line's fame in the great city he will raise? Does Aeneas need to know that elemental passion is always latent, even in the most civilized breast? Must he know, before he can father great Romans, that which can never be sanctioned in a great civilization, yet is never separable from it? It is as if, before Anchises can inflame the soul of Aeneas with love of Roman glory, Dido must set the kindling. In Book VI Aeneas, obedient to Anchises' command, descends to the Underworld - to seek a meeting with his father, to learn of his coming race, of his walls in Latium. Anchises directs Aeneas to Avernus, to the Sybil; she will guide him past Tartarus to Anchises in the Elysian fields. She will turn out to be a wildly irrational guide. The temple over which the Sybil presides is housed in a cave; the poet has shown us already what irrationality is housed iri caves. When Aeneas and his company are at the threshold, the Sybil's wild heart heaves with frenzy, and .she cries out to him: "Are you so slow with vows and prayers, T~oJan Aeneas? Are you so slow?" (VI, 73-4) Tartarus, she raves, will never open its jaws without his vows. We think of Dido, raving about broken marriage vows. We remember that Aeneas denies having made such vows. . Now the power of the god closes in on the Sybil. His breath ts upon her, but she cannot yet speak, she has not yet yielded to Phoebus. The lines in which she does yield are lines of sexual innuendo: She tries to drive Phoebus from her breast but "he tires out her raving mouth, he tames her wild heart, he shapes by crushing force." (VI, 112-13) He "urges the reins as she raves on; he plies the spurs beneath her breast." (VI, 139-41) Would the pious Aeneas have been willing to consign himself to the 54 guidance of this madwoman if he had not known Dido? Until the point at which he submits to the Sybil, his piety has not been one of access to the inner workings of di vi.Le madness, his piety has been, with a single powerful exception, one of good and proper observance of the rites demanded by household gods - his pious ancestors at Troy. But with submission to the Sybil his piety grows more complex. He is coming to know the value, the sanctity, of this kind of wild irrationality, of high passion. Aeneas' submission to the Sybil's guidance is linked still more directly to his submission to his passion for Dido. After he has retrieved the golden bo•1gh, Aeneas and the Sybil stand at the opening of Avernus; she calls upon Hecate, queen of heaven and hell, and he sacrifices to Night, the mother of the Furies. We have heard Hecate invoked before this - when Dido placed on the pyre their couch, and Aeneas' effigy, clothed in his clothes and armed with his sword. At that moment, she called upon Hecate and the triple-shaped Diana, triune goddess of female initiation to marriage, of whom Hecate is one third. She called upon Hecate, night fell, and Dido was consumed. Her death, like the Sybil's possession by the god, is given to us in lines of sexual innuendo. Dido lay upon the couch that was their bed and, pressing her face into it, murmured endearments to the Trojan's clothes, while she took his sword into her body. The goddess called upon to witness this deadly consummation is the goddess upon whom the Sybil calls to open the way to hell. The Sybil his guide, Aeneas proceeds. At the middle of Book VI, in the Fields of Mourning, he sees Dido. He swears by the gods above and by whatever there is of trust in this netherland, his unwillingness when he left her. Brutally consumed in brutal waste, Dido will not raise her eyes to him. Nothing he can say will move her, though he so clearly wants to move her. When she turns from him he follows with tears and pity. He will at last "struggle on his given way again." (VI, 627) His guide brings him to the Blessed Groves - to his father, who had feared Sidonian Dido, feared that the kingdom of Libya might do so much harm to Aeneas. In the course of the poem we will not hear again that Anchises is frightened for his son's fate; only the Sidonian passion scares the great father. Aeneas catches sight of the river Lethe, and the swarms of heroes flocking to its banks. He wonders. These, says Anchises, are the spirits to whom fate owes a second body, they have gathered here at the river to drink deep drafts of forgetfulness before returning to the upper earth. Aeneas is shocked. Who so mad to long to leave these fields, to long for the light of earth? For answer, Anchises tells his son a tale of the human soul. In the soul, he says, are fiery seeds whose source is heavenly. But these are housed in a dark prison of mortal members and earthly limbs; the body is a plague to the soul, causing sorrows and fears, and joy. Even in death these bodily plagues do not relent, "for taints so long congealed cling fast and deep in extraordinary ways." (VI, 973-75) And here below, each must pay with fresh torment the price of his old taint - each suffers his own shade, the shade his life has merited. It requires the cycle of ages to anneal a soul's stain. When this has been accomplished, shades are summoned by Dis to a great Lethian assembly, where they drink deep and forget the plight of the soul in the flesh, its longings and pains - its joys. Forgetful, they long to return to upper earth. This purification through loss of memory is at the middle of the poem; and it is what Aeneas, not dead but living, must accomplish in order to emerge again to the light of day. Moreover, Aeneas, a living soul, has begun already this arduous purging of the longings and joys of the flesh. In the upper air of Carthage he renoWlced Dido, stood like an oak in the face of their mutual love, her entreaty, his own longing to remain. Alive, he has paid already, in the manner of shades below, a great price of torment for his stay with Dido. Aeneas will forget, in the way of shades departing Lethe, the name. of Dido, but unlike the shades, he will not have been granted a cycle of ages in which to cleanse his memory. Because he lives while he forgets, something will remain. Anchises will fire his son's soul, but it is Dido who has laid this fire. His tale of the soul's cycle complete, Anchises reveals to Aeneas "the fame to come from Dardan sons," (VI, 1000) the Trojan shades who will become the great Caesars of Rome. These names too, he forgets. When he sees the history of Rome bossed on the shield his mother brings to him, he is moved, greatly, but does not know what it is he sees. Anchises brings Aeneas and the Sybil to the Twin Gates of Sleep for their departure from Hades. Through the gate of horn true shades rise to earth. Through the gate of polished ivory, Spirits send false dreams to the world above. Anchises sends Aeneas back to his fate through the gate of polished ivory. Why, why? His departure in this way is almost more harrowing than his descent. Two possible explanations come to mind; but they do not relieve the reader's uneasiness. One: We remember that Aeneas seems somehow to have to do what the shades by the banks of Lethe must do, he too must forget. But he is alive. He will not utter Dido's name again in the course of the poem; and when he sees the scenes on his Vulcanmade shield, he is moved with wonder, but uncomprehending. Aeneas forgets, but something irrational remains with him, something to which he could not put a name, some vague intuition moves his soul. It is true that Aeneas emerges from hell a new man, annealed and ready. But he is not, like the Lethian shades, a clean slate. Though he cannot say what it is that moves him, Aeneas remembers. And we remember his words when he abandoned Dido: for as long as breath moves his limbs, when he remembers himself, he will remember Dido. Does Aeneas rise to earth through the gate of false dreams precisely because some stain oflonging for Dido even now "cling(s) fast and deep?" (VI, 974) Two: In showing the great Romans to his son, Anchises does point out to him the elder Marcellus, but he hopes to pass over Marcellus the younger; Aeneas must persuade his father to name the young man and say something of him. Anchises does so in tears. Marcellus will be but shown to the upper air, fate will not allow him a full lifetime. For ''The line of Rome, o High Ones, would have seemed too powerful for you, if his gifts, too, had been its own." (VI, 1161-63) Anchises' purpose in exhibiting for the soul of his son the future of his long line is to fire his soul for the exigence of that which, shortly, he must do. And to that end, Aeneas must believe that the city which will come from the labors of his progeny will be the proper place for such a one as Marcellus, that it will be such a place and, that the High Ones will not harrow it with their ferocious passions. He ascends, believing in the pious greatness of Rome, through the Gate of False Dreams. He comes to Latium, to the fated place. His arrival there has been safeguarded by Neptune, who has guided the ships safely past Circe's island. (The Trojans are not men to be transformed to raving beasts.) And here it happens that, the men hungry and rations short, they consume their tables. With this, Aeneas realizes where they are. He rouses his men to pour their cups out to Jupiter, the High One, and the household god of Troy, father Anchises. And Jupiter grants them omens: thunder out of a clear sky, a cloud flashing great light and gold. Here the Trojans will raise their new walls. The next morning, Aeneas sends to the king of Latium an embassy of one hundred men, led by Ilioneus. He himself remains behind. At last in the place where he belongs, he stays behind to lay the site of the Trojans' first Latin settlement. We should note that it is not a logical landfall. That is, Aeneas is, at last, in the place that is his, fundamentally his because fated to be so. Yet it is not his. Latins live here. This place that belongs to Aeneas, must be conquered. The embassy comes to the Laurentian palace, a place, it turns out, of great irrationality. It is now the palace of Latinus, but it is called the palace of Picus, Latinus' grandfather, whose father was Saturn. And before Virgil permits Latinus to speak to the Trojan embassy, we hear about Picus - that his bride, Circe, in the clutch of lust, transformed him into a speckled bird. Latinas welcomes the Dardans, saying to them that they have come to a people who need no laws to guarantee their righteousness, for they are sons of Saturn. The Latins hold themselves in check by their own will, he says. The Trojans shall have what they ask of Latinas, but he wants one thing first, to clasp the right hand of Aeneas. He is remembering the oracle of Faun us, that his daughter Lavinia must not marry from among her father's own, but marry with a stranger, for great things await her. He regales the Trojans with gifts, sending to Aeneas a chariot with a pair of fabulous stallions, horses bred by Circe on a mortal mare with seed she stole from her father's stallions. Strange bastard horses, they come to Aeneas from a palace which has seen strange · things. Juno cannot rest. Aeneas is in his place, but she will not rest, for she hates his race. She sends Allecto to break the peace, to "let sudden quarrel spur young men to want, demand and seize the sword." (VII, 449-50) These peaceful sons of Saturn, who need no laws to restrain them, are to be waked to the fury of Juno by the stratagems of Allecto. It is significant that for the most part, as she goes about her hideous task, Allecto does not need 55 I �to implant violent passions, she needs only to rile them up. The snake that winds its way between the breasts and dress of Amata, into her bowels, breaths its serpent breath into a frenzy Amata feels already. Allecto can inflame Ascanius so that he is over avid in the hunt because of his own inherent love of honor. The farmers who respond to Silvia's loss, the young men who rally to Turnus, the mothers who rally to Amata, all have in them something waiting to be stirred. Only Turnus resists. Although he knows that Trojan ships are in the Tiber and is aware that his betrothal is endangered, he laughs at the Fury in her disguise as an old woman. She must assume her full furious strength to rouse him, she must cast a torch of fury into his breast. This torch does not burn brightly there; it smolders with a murky light. But it has its effect. At the Laurentian fortress Turn us lifts the flag of war. Meanwhile, back at the camp, Tiberinus appears to Aeneas and exiles his cares. He gives Aeneas further proofs: the white sow with her sucklings, the sign Hellen us had said to watch for, is nearby. The very earth and all her waters have awaited Aeneas - his household gods are secure. This is his home. But he must set out from home, he must now fulfill the words of the Sybil and seek a Greek city. Tiberinus says he will tell Aeneas what he must do to conquer this land that is his home, this land that has waited for his arrival. He must journey to Arcadia, to Evander's great city, to Pallanteum. What Aeneas will find there are deeper, even more ancient roots and, his future. Aeneas and his men arrive at Pallanteum on the feast day of Hercules. The son of Evander leaves the ceremonies to confront the strangers; he asks to hear who they are, of what tribe? Aeneas tells the young man who he is, and Pallas clasps his right hand in fast welcome. Pallas brings the strangers into his father's city, where Evander will reveal to Aeneas still more about who he is. He tells him that they are relations through Atlas, who props the stars. The king relates for Aeneas the history of the Arcadians, and we who have been guided along the way by Virgil see that Evander is telling Aeneas still more about who he is, that their relation is still closer. Evander says, these groves once were inhabited by a race of men sprung from sturdy oaks, men who had no civilization. We remember that when Aeneas' soul was buffeted by the entreaties of Anna, the strength he found was the strength of an oak. We remember, too, that the great and remarkable piety of this man, who bears with him what remains of a great civilization, was interrupted by a fierce and heedless passion; that, for a time, Aeneas and the queen of Carthage lived outside the bounds of a civilization; that their love destroyed Carthage. The analogy with Paris and Helen is obvious. What is not so obvious is why Aeneas, in the haste and urgency of fleeing a Troy that was burning and falling all around him, should have carried away with him the gold-worked tunic and saffron-fringed veil that belonged to the hated Helen. Was something inexplicable moving in him even then, even as this man remarkable for piety preserved what he could of his great city? Who are you, Pallas asked? 56 The history of Arcadia includes Saturn, who found sanctuary here when he was driven from Olympus by his son. The exiled god came to this land and made a natim. of its untamed men and gave them laws. But Saturnian law is notlike theJ avian law Dido gave at Carthage, not like the law Aeneas gave at various settlements along the way. The law of Saturn is a law of revenge and passion, its guardians are the Furies. Will Evander and Aeneas turn out to be related through Saturn as well? Evander explains to Aeneas how it is that his people honor Hercules with such solemnity, lest he think that the Arcadians neglect the older gods. On ~e, their land was ravaged by the monster Cacus; the ground was always warm with the blood of slaughtered Arcadians. Hercules smashed the monster in his own cavern, opening up that foul place to the light of day, delivering the Arcadians from ferocity. Above all, the Arcadians celebrate the slaying of Cacus. Aeneas is permitted to witness the holy rites in honor of the hero who accomplished every labor set him by the Saturnian Juno. · Evander offers Aeneas an alliance; he will make him chieftain over thousands of Latins. A new Cacus is on the scene; the king Mezentius devises particularly foul and inhuman tortures for his victims. His subjects have driven him from his city, and now Turnus gives him refuge. Augury has revealed to Evander that a successful force against Mezentius must be led not by an Italian, but by a stranger. Like the husband of Lavinia, the deliverer must be a stranger. When he has delivered Latium from Mezentius, Aeneas will have conquered the land that is his, the land that has awaited him. And like Hercules before him, he will have delivered Evander' s people. Aeneas will conquer this land, he will bring the rule of Jovian law into Latium. But he is kinsman, through Atlas, of Evander, whose Arcadia is ruled by Saturn, by that older law which erupts with sudden fury. And now, Aeneas has made an alliance with his kinsman. Evander sends his son, Pallas, with Aeneas. As their galley glides through the night, Pallas clings close to him, and asks to hear his history, his deeds and trials on land and sea. He clings, we have a picture of the young man hanging on every word the great Aeneas says. Like Dido before him. It may be disputed, but in what follows I shall assume that Pallas is the beloved of Aeneas, that the love of Aeneas for Pallas is not only the pious love of father Aeneas who has given his right hand to Evander, but the passionate love of the lover. It is at this point that Venus brings to her son the great shield forged by Vulcan. It is the offspring of a night of love: his wife takes Vulcan into a "soft embrace," (VIII, 509) instantly he catches "the customary flame." (VIII, 510) And in the morning, early, he sets to work. The shield of war born of love has at its center the battle to come at Actium: Antony faces Caesar, his Egyptian wife close behind. The shield's center pictures a man who turned his back, for love of a woman, on Rome - as Aeneas himself, for a time, has done. Sing Erato, of passion and the irrational, Sing the link of love with war. When she presents Aeneas with the shield, Venus, who throughout the poem has held herself aloof from him, shows herself freely and reaches out to embrace her son. Why has she held herself from him before this, and why does she now open her arms? What has changed? Aeneas has allied himself with Evander; he has found that force by which he will conquer Latium. His alliance turns out to be, at some level, an alliance with the law of passion and revenge, that law older than the law of Jove. Because Arcadia is the land of Saturn in exile and the land delivered by Hercules, Aeneas has pledged his right hand to the adamantly passionate. Has Venus found Aeneas, before now, wanting in filial devotion? (Harsh as this sounds! ) Now Aeneas has begun his approach to the rage of the High Ones now, she may embrace him, now he is worthy of this mother's tenderness. Moreover, Venus knows that he has clasped the hand of the boy who will become his ·lover, and be the occasion of rage. She opens her arms. The battle will rage this way and that. Pallas will be notorious in battle, dealing terrible slaughter to the Latins. But he will be killed by Turnus. As he faces him, Pallas calls on Hercules to let the dying Turnus see him, Pallas, strip the bloodied weapons from his enemy. It will not be so. It will be Turnus who takes bloody spoils from Pallas: the fateful belt, on which are engraved fifty slaughtered bridegrooms, an image resonant with the defamation of the inner chambers of Priam's palace. When Aeneas learns of Pallas' death, time slackens its pace: "Pallas... Evander... all are now before his eyes ...." (X, 710-11) The pious hero is infuriated. Before this he has been dutifully valiant, now his warrior's rage is something more than human. In Book XI, Turnus will say to Latinos that he would go boldly to meet Aeneas, though he be "as tremendous as Achilles." (XI, 580-1) By virtue of the huge force that the death of Pallas has for him, Aeneas has taken that name, that rage. Like the death of Patroclus, the death of Pallas sends into battle a ferocious warrior. We turn to the poem's end, to the slaughter of Turnus. Turnus has been defeated in single combat, the fate of Aeneas is accomplished, land and bride are his. Now, as he dies, Turnus implores Aeneas for that which piety cannot deny. He asks the return of his body to his father, saying to Aeneas, remember Anchises, your father - which is to say, remember the household gods of your piety. Aeneas in his goodness wavers, moved in his soul by Turnus' words. But he is moved two ways. His eye falls upon the belt on Turnus' shoulder, and he is enraged; not by the guile of a god, but by the sight of fifty bridegrooms slaughtered there on the belt of his beloved. And it must be that everything at once rushes into his mind: Priam's hundred daughters, the bridal chambers near which Pyrrhus slaughtered Priam, the brutal murder of Deiphobus at Helen's hands. And this: Pallas, son of Evander, Pallas killed by Turnus, Pallas his beloved, Pallas' plundered belt. Frenzied, he butchers a man already dying, attacks the already vanquished in a rage like the rage of High Ones. His fate already accomplished, Aeneas butchers needlessly. Acting outside his fate, and once again, outside the scope of civilization, Aeneas is as a god-like Hercules before him. We remember it is not any young man who has aroused his ferocity, it is the son of Evander whose death Aeneas avenges. He grants the impossible dying wish of Pallas, who called upon his father's guest friend, upon Hercules, to let him slay Turnus. The god heard Pallas' plea, and wept for its impossibility. It is a plea Aeneas could not have heard, and yet, slaughtering Turnus, he cries - Pallas does this! When he kills Turnus, the protector of Mezentius, Aeneas is the new delivererofEvander's people. He is the new Hercules, who grants the dying wish of his beloved Pallas. If such fury waited even in Aeneas, how shall Rome sustain a Marcellus? Rome will not be the place to exclude such gods as Virgil has figured here, they will not have cause to fear that their vengefulness and cruelty will be excluded from the Roman empire. We might even say that with the establishment of the Jovian, the Saturnian is restored; for if Aeneas brings the Jovian into Latium, he does so by overt alliance with the king whose people received Saturn in exile. Moreover, in Book XII, we see Jupiter himself recourse to the Saturnian in order that Aeneas and Turnus face each other unaided by any divinity. He calls on a Fury to terrify Turn us' helpmate, his sister Juturna, into quitting the battle. It is Jupiter who does this. Pious Aeneas as Rome, as the Rome Anchises says they will build together, is not simply pious; he has within him a great store of passion. Because one face of that passion is furious, impious and cruel, Aeneas has had to depart the underworld through the gate of False Dreams. The glory of the Rome to come with which Anchises has inflamed the soul of his son is not unequivocal. When Anchises says, "My sons, do not let such great wars be native to your minds ... cast down the weapon from your hand!" (VI, 1105-1109) and exhorts Aeneas, "Remember Roman ... to teach the ways of peace to those you conquer," (VI, 135-6) the irony is bitter. The shade to whom Anchises speaks, before he returns to earth's upper air, must forget all that he has learned below. By the poet's own device, Anchises' words are as ciphers to the forgetful shade, are like the leaves of the Sybil blown by the wind. And yet his words are necessary. For Anchises must inflame his son not with any fire, but with appropriate fire. To temper, to steel the soul of Aeneas for his arduous fate it must be pious flame Anchises fans. For when Aeneas leaves his father, he does not yet know that he is capable of a violence which ordinary piety could never condone. He must ascend through that gate passionate for what his piety can approve. He must ascend through the Gate of False Dreams. When he drives his blade into Turnus, the wrath of Aeneas is like the wrath of Hercules when he killed the monster Cacus. It · is like the wrath of Juno at the beginning of the poem. Can the mind of pious Aeneas hold such wrath? To ask this is to paraphrase the horrified wonder of Virgil at the beginning of the poem. How can a man remarkable for goodness be made to endure such torments as Juno will devise for Aeneas? "Can such wrath hold the minds of gods?" (I, 18) By the end of the poem the poet will be constrained to ask which god is it can help him to sing the bitterness and the butchery in the minds of Turnus 57 �and Aeneas. He asks Jupiter, can it have been your will that, despite the fact that these two nations were destined to live in peace, they unleashed such brutal, indiscriminate fury - so many men dead? At the close of the poem, Virgil will ask no question to help us with the horror he has presented us. Upon the flight of Turnus' resentful life to shades below, Virgil is silent. Even as our horror is shrieking at us, Virgil is silent. The only words the reader can find to give expression to his shock are a paraphrase of Virgil's opening question. Can such wrath hold the mind of pious Aeneas? It can. And when it does, when Aeneas' piety is coiled round with fury, when he is still plunging his sword into Turrms 'chest, the poem closes. The song is finished. The poet has shown us Rome will rise. what we need to see. 59 58 �Ricardo J.H. Beall The Other Face of Darkness -for Harry Golding J.H. Beall Her hands, the saddened darkness touched once. The future is history: her hair, the curve of her neck gently following spaces held between muscle and bone as though tension were the only metaphor for love. Look back. The mind is filled with shards of glass green of their own volition, or her eyes in a moment's repose before sleep, bruited of that color which sits above the horizon, culled from a litany of distance and blue. Of the future's hue, that opalescence we confined in, nothing serves but the tin-cup smell of water, warm on a dry, hot day, as it parts our lips like another's tongue, without words. In beginning, the trees mimic the colors of the fall. Though subtler, shades conspire and cut the throat of the bud's reticence. Then green is poured into the flagon of the air. Our eyes swill the mind's declension of the tongue's delight - green as a liquor. Thoughts hold tightly the fact that green is poured into the flagon of the air. All of this - the meridians' convergence, the circumstance of the sun's other motion into summer - like arteries pump green liquid into the flagon of the air. And we see the other face of darkness - light penitent for the winter' s sorrows, and with spring become contained by an emerald light poured into the flagon of the air. 60 61 I I �If you are not currently working at or attending St. John's, and you would like to continue receiving Energeia by mail, be sure to return this slip to: ENERGEIA St. John's College P.O. Box 2800 Annapolis, Maryland 21404-2800 Your name: Angel and Quill Nathan J. Humphrey 62 Address: � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>Energeia</em> Description An account of the resource <em>Energeia</em> is a non-profit, student magazine, which is published once a year and distributed among students, faculty, alumni, and staff of St. John's College, Annapolis.  Staff welcome submissions from all members of the community -- essays, poems, stories, original math proofs, lab projects, drawings, and the like. 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For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Energeia, Spring 1992 Description An account of the resource Issue of the Energeia, published in Spring 1992. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Dennis, Douala (Senior Editor) Seidman, Jeff (Junior 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 1992 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Type The nature or genre of the resource text Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Energeia Spring 1992 Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/f18c6ec3677799e518ad0bac92c54268.pdf fca3565912f5ab3287e95c0343e60aef PDF Text Text “From Doubt and Decline towards Dialogue: Discussing Anselm’s Proslogion in the Religiously Pluralist Classroom” Christopher Denny, Associate Professor, St. John’s University—NY 1. Introduction I begin by asking for the inspiration of Anselm of Canterbury, taking a cue from the meditative prayer in chapter one of his Proslogion. If I was fortunate enough to have Anselm speak in my place this morning, I can imagine him saying, “Come now, conference participants! Let us flee for a while from the cares of academic specializations and research and publication protocols, casting aside these burdensome pursuits. Let us set aside time to enter the inner chambers of our classrooms and particular institutions, and there seek a pedagogical rationale for reading, discussing, and teaching religious texts within a liberal arts curriculum. For if we cannot offer a sustained and principled defense of the value of studying religion and theology in colleges and universities dedicated to free inquiry about fundamental existential questions, where will such intellectual practices occur?” “But alas! wretched as we are, those of us intent on preserving a place for theological inquiries in higher education are bowed down in the current educational context. For both vocal secular critics of religion and pious caretakers of religion have replaced the search for ‘that than which-nothing greater can be conceived’ with the conviction that religion and piety are primarily reified markers of personal and collective identity. Be it our goal to look past these assumptions and set our sights upon the search for the truth, wherever truth leads us.” �Denny, “From Doubt and Decline towards Dialogue,” page 2 The secularization of American higher education, and the accompanying marginalization of theological study in college and university curricula, is a process that has been occurring for centuries, as George Marsden noted in his book The Soul of the American University: From Protestant Establishment to Established Nonbelief.1 The causes for this marginalization begin with the desire of Protestant denominations in the colonial and Federal periods to downplay creedal disagreements among themselves. They continue during Americanized Romanticera attempts to locate the essence of Christian religion in interiorized piety and whiggish notions of progress, and reach a culmination in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century initiatives to situate the university within a scientific paradigm in which achievement is gauged in terms of empirical measurement and technological ability. Marsden and other commentators have rehearsed this history in detail, and for many it may be a cause for commiseration. My purpose, however, is neither to bemoan these changes nor to praise them as the acme of modern liberalism. Rather I intend to argue that the secularization of Christian colleges and universities opens up new opportunities for reintroducing theology into the liberal arts curriculum in a religiously pluralist rather than in a confessionalist context. To illustrate these possibilities, I employ Anselm of Canterbury’s Proslogion as a test case, relying both on the text itself and also upon the historical environment within which the Proslogion was written, for Anselm too faced a profound shift in educational ideals during his day, and his writings indicate a need to confront a new See George Marsden, The Soul of the University: From Protestant Establishment to Established Nonbelief (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994); James T. Burtchaell, The Dying of the Light: The Disengagement of Colleges and Universities from their Christian Churches (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998). 1 �Denny, “From Doubt and Decline towards Dialogue,” page 3 audience in the emerging scholastic classroom and a new method of doing theology. Rather than denouncing the transformation that theology underwent as it expanded beyond the monasteries, Anselm retooled theology. Liberal-arts practitioners and theologians would do well to follow his example. 2. Increasing Professional and Religious Pluralism in Anselm’s Context Recent scholarship in medieval educational history has supplemented an earlier focus on the role of Benedictine monasticism with greater attention to the importance of cathedral schools and the Ottonian and Salian imperial courts in fostering an approach to philosophy centered upon the study of Cicero’s oratory and service to the state. Stephen Jaeger’s recent study of primary source documents from the tenth and eleventh centuries challenges medieval histories of the liberal arts that marginalize contributions from outside the sphere of monastic education.2 A figure such as the monk-scholar Gerbert of Aurillac, for example, straddles the boundary between religious and secular education. Having left his position as abbot of the monastery of Bobbio, Gerbert spent his days teaching arts and rhetoric, until receiving the patronage of Emperor Otto III, with whose support Gerbert became Pope Sylvester II in the year 999. In his work On the Rational and the Use of Reason, Gerbert promoted a so-called “imperial philosophy” (imperialis philosophia), in which the logic and dialectic of Aristotle and Boethius were placed at the service of Otto’s court. While Gerbert had learned grammar at the monastery of Aurillac, his 2 See C. Stephen Jaeger, “Philosophy, ca. 950—ca. 1050, Viator 40/1 (2009): 17-40. �Denny, “From Doubt and Decline towards Dialogue,” page 4 own introduction to logic came during his time at the imperial court and at the cathedral school at Reims studying with the teacher Gerannus.3 Although logic in these decades remained subordinate to a practical understanding of the liberal arts as a benefit for a career in secular administration, over time the influence of the cathedral schools filtered back into monastic settings, including the monastery at Bec where Anselm taught. Anselm’s teacher Lanfranc was a key figure in this development. Having come to this new monastery after studies in the liberal arts and law, as prior Lanfranc began to admit students who were not planning to enter a monastery, either at Bec or elsewhere, in order to raise money for the abbey.4 By the late eleventh century, a number of these students at Bec had entered administrative careers, bolstered by their studies in history and law.5 Anselm’s resuscitation of the literary dialogue in medieval Latin literature needs to be interpreted against this shift in the student population at Bec. Even though Anselm eventually reversed Lanfranc’s decision to admit external students at Bec, the use of dialogue manifest in Anselm’s early work De Grammatico (On See Richer of Saint-Rémi, Histories [3.45], vol. 2, ed. and trans. Justin Lake (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2011), 66—71. 4 See Alex J. Novikoff, “Anselm, Dialogue, and the Rise of Scholastic Disputation,” Speculum 86 (2011): 387—418. The primary sources dealing with Lanfranc’s education, including the biographical material from Milo Crispin and Gilbert Crispin, are surveyed in H. E. J. Cowdrey, Lanfranc: Scholar, Monk, and Archbishop (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 5—10. 5 See Sally N. Vaughn, “Anselm, Lanfranc, and the School of Bec: Searching for the Students of Bec,” in The Culture of Christendom: Essays in Commemoration of Denis L. T. Bethell, ed. Marc A. Meyer (London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2003), 155—81. Also, see Novikoff, The Medieval Culture of Disputation: Pedagogy, Practice, and Performance, The Middle Ages (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2013). 3 �Denny, “From Doubt and Decline towards Dialogue,” page 5 Grammar) endured in his later theological dialogues, most notably Cur Deus Homo [Why God became Human?]6 Even an early work of Anselm’s such as the Proslogion, which is not composed in the genre of a formal dialogue with different literary characters, displays the transition from soliloquy towards dialogue and argument in the response that it generated and Anselm’s rejoinder. In the preface to this work, Anselm describes it as an alloquium, an address or allocution. In his later response to Gaunilo, however, Anselm appeals to those who have knowledge of disputandi argumentandique (debating, discussing, proving, arguing) to come to his defense against Gaunilo’s objections.7 Indeed Anselm’s entire literary output displays an evolution in the direction of debate, and there are for Anselm culpable and praiseworthy debaters. For example, in the beginning of his treatise On the Incarnation of the Word, Anselm distinguishes between the arguments of those who proudly deny what their intellects cannot grasp and the arguments of those who humbly live the Christian faith.8 By the time Anselm wrote the later Cur Deus Homo [Why God became Human], he no longer waits for the response from the likes of Gaunilo as he explicitly anticipates debate and organizes the first part of the dialogue around meeting the “objections of unbelievers.”9 Novikoff criticizes Richard Southern’s lack of appreciation of Anselm’s debt to Lanfranc on this point. See Novikoff, “Anselm, Dialogue, and the Rise of Scholastic Disputation,” 405. 7 See Anselm, Reply to Gaunilo 7. 8 See Anselm, On the Incarnation of the Word 1. 9 See Anselm, Cur Deus Homo, preface and 1. 6 �Denny, “From Doubt and Decline towards Dialogue,” page 6 3. Reading the Proslogion with Awareness of Religious Pluralism Interpretive awareness of Anselm’s transitional educational context helps to balance understandings of the Proslogion that reduce this work to an exercise in a completely interiorized version of fides quaerens intellectum, faith seeking understanding. The Proslogion certainly qualifies as such a search but one that is neither solipsistic nor exclusivist. Rather, once we know more about Anselm’s historical context, we can appreciate that Anselm’s search in the Proslogion is marked by an environment of religious pluralism and debates, but not debates that mirror our contemporary polemics between religious believers and skeptics. First, Anselm wrote this treatise against the background of the intra-Christian schism between the churches of Rome and Constantinople that occurred in 1054, and the result of that schism continued to influence Anselm’s theological career, as he gave an address at the Council of Bari in 1098 crafted to convince Eastern Christians of the Latin doctrine of the trinitarian filioque, the procession of the Son from the Holy Spirit as well as from the Father. Second, Anselm was part of a generation of Christian theologians who were coming into increased contact with anti-Christian polemical works by non-Christian authors, much of which was in dialogue form. The Account of the Disputation of the Priest, a ninth-century Jewish text, is an example of this genre. The Account attacks the Christian doctrine of the Incarnation on the grounds that the divine nature is incompatible with such a religious teaching. At the beginning of his treatise On the Incarnation of the Word, Anselm refers to the writings of his fellow scholastic Roscelin, who at the Council of Soissons in 1092 was accused by Anselm and others of teaching tritheism. Roscelin’s nominalist �Denny, “From Doubt and Decline towards Dialogue,” page 7 contention that the persons of the Trinity must be separate substances in order to avoid admitting that the Father and the Spirit would also have had to become incarnate alongside the Son is found in a work attributed to one of his contemporaries, the Islamic theologian al-Ghazālī. A dialogue format was precluded in On the Incarnation of the Word, as the work was addressed directly to Pope Urban II, but later in the dialogue Cur Deus Homo Anselm’s interlocutor Boso praises Anselm’s arguments for the Incarnation, claiming that it should serve as proof for Jews and pagans.10 Twentieth-century philosophers and theologians have split much ink and typeface over the issue of whether the Proslogion is an exercise in natural theology or, as twentieth-century theologian Karl Barth held, a priori theological support for those already initiated.11 One contemporary interpreter outlines such a dichotomous choice as follows: Loyalty to Christian identity remained for Anselm the first responsibility of theological interpretation and the only authentic basis for theological reasoning. Anselm would not have shared the belief that a progressive and sure epistemological foundation was at hand, immanently accessible, to which he could lead the unbeliever and from which they could share common assumptions.12 See Daniel J. Lasker, Jewish Philosophical Polemics against Christianity in the Middle Ages (New York: Ktav, 1977), 121—25; al-Ghazālī, Réfutation Excellente de la Divinité de Jesus-Christ d’après les Évangiles, ed. and trans. Robert Chidiac (Paris: E. Leroux, 1939); Anselm, Cur Deus Homo 2.22. 11 See Karl Barth, Fides Quaerens Intellectum, trans. I. W. Robertson (London: SCM, 1960). 12 Jeffrey C. Pugh, “Fides Quaerens Intellectum: Anselm as Contemporary,” Theology Today 55/1 (April 1998): 35—45, at 43. Later in the article Pugh writes, “Seeking to justify itself within its cultural context, it [theology] runs the risk of connecting its theology so strongly to the culture that its construals of God will diminish when the cultural forms it arose within pass into yet another” (44). By contrast, I hold with Catholic theologian Bernard Lonergan (1904—84) that “A theology mediates between a cultural matrix and the significance and role of a religion in that matrix.” 10 �Denny, “From Doubt and Decline towards Dialogue,” page 8 I must simply disagree. For Anselm, the criterion of theology is first and foremost the truth of God rather than the maintenance of religious identity, which is a derivative issue. Moreover, the narrator’s self-understanding shifts in the course of the Proslogion’s first chapter, as I will argue momentarily. Debates over the role of reason versus faith in the Proslogion would assume a helpful new guise if Anselm’s original audience was taken into account. Anselm was not addressing a group of eighteenth-century deists. Theology and philosophy, and the accompanying distinction between natural and supernatural knowledge, were not as clearly distinct as they would become some two centuries after his time. The fool he references from Psalms 14 and 53 does not provide a clear-cut case of religious atheism but according to the psalmist, an example of moral corruption. The pressing concern in the opening chapters of the Proslogion is what kind of god God is, a more intelligible concern given the religious differences in Anselm’s context. Let’s see what a reading of the opening chapters of the Proslogion can look like through an interreligiously informed hermeneutic. Anselm concludes chapter one with a quotation from Isaiah: “unless I believe, I will not understand” (nisi credidero, non intelligam; Is 7:9). This well-known verse is also included in Anselm’s letter to Pope Urban II at the beginning of his work On the Incarnation of the Word and clearly served as a guiding principle in his writings; it is often used as support for a fideist approach to the Proslogion.13 Yet there are Bernard J. F. Lonergan, Method in Theology (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1971), xi. 13 See Anselm, On the Incarnation of the Word 1. �Denny, “From Doubt and Decline towards Dialogue,” page 9 too many other passages in Anselm’s writings that appeal to rational persuasion of non-Christians for readers to stretch Anselm’s citation of this verse into a global epistemological principle that would hold good for all persons.14 Anselm himself may begin reasoning from a position of religious faith, but many of his readers have not. The second chapter’s famous definition of God as “that-than-which-a-greatercannot-be-thought” acquires a different cast when it is accepted as a premise about God than as a self-evident proof or, as Kant held, an exercise in trying to derive existence from reasoning, a charge that would be better leveled against the argument for God in Descartes’s Third Meditation.15 As Katherin Rogers notes, Anselm’s theological premises are intended to achieve two goals at the same time: first, deepening the religious belief of insider participants, and second, persuading outsiders.16 While this definition of God is not separable from the religious belief of insiders, neither is it a neutral lowest common denominator. Since the definition is at its root apophatic, God as “that-than-which-a-greater-cannot-be-thought” by itself In addition to Cur Deus Homo 2.22, for another example see On the Incarnation of the Word 6. 15 Anselm, Proslogion 2, trans. M. J. Charlesworth, in Anselm of Canterbury: The Major Works, eds. Brian Davies and G. R. Evans, Oxford World’s Classics (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), 87; see Kant, Critique of Pure Reason A592/B620— A602/B630. A critique of Kant’s rejection of the “ontological argument” is given by Pugh, “Fides Quaerens Intellectum.” 16 See Katherin Rogers, “Can Christianity Be Proven? St. Anselm of Canterbury on Faith and Reason,” in Anselm Studies 2, eds. Joseph C. Schnaubelt et al. (Kraus International, 1988), 459-479, at 466. Also, note Brian Davies, “Anselm and the Ontological Argument,” in The Cambridge Companion to Anselm, eds. Brian Davies and Brian Leftow (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 157—77, at 174— 76. 14 �Denny, “From Doubt and Decline towards Dialogue,” page 10 reveals no positive content about God or about the image of God.17 The premise is analogous to the limit of a convergent mathematical sequence, especially given Anselm’s further assertion in chapter fifteen that God is “something greater than can be thought.”18 Human thoughts can approach God by way of comparison in the manner of a geometric asymptote, tending toward but never attaining identity with the divine. This apophatic claim therefore is also comparative, as the existence of God is only indirectly revealed by comparison with other thoughts. While the thoughts of Anselm and other religious participants are in large part determined by the specific content of their respective traditions, exemplified in the opening chapter of the Proslogion, the advantage of Anselm’s premise in chapter two for interreligious dialogue and debate is that this apophatic definition of God is not confined within any particular network of signs, symbols, or doctrines. Critics can rightly note that this apophatic approach means that the question of God’s existence is not one of evidence or of ontology, as pace many subsequent interpreters Anselm does not equate God with Being or with Existence. This is true, but this is precisely what lends Anselm’s misleadingly called ontological argument strength in a religiously pluralistic context. If the issue of God’s existence were to be settled by evidence empirical or metaphysical in nature, then the argument would necessarily acquire an esoteric character. If God were the same type of being as the hypothetical island that Anselm’s interlocutor Gaunilo posited in his short treatise On Behalf of the Fool, then the Proslogion could only be convincing to readers who Readers of Anselm’s Proslogion know that after chapter five there are several chapters characterizing God’s qualities, although these are followed by chapter fifteen’s assertion that God is greater than can be thought. 18 Anselm, Proslogion, 15, in Anselm of Canterbury, 96. 17 �Denny, “From Doubt and Decline towards Dialogue,” page 11 shared Anselm’s esoteric knowledge, a functional example here of what Gotthold Lessing termed “the accidental truths of history.”19 This would be the case with any knowledge received solely from scripture, tradition, or ecclesiastical authority. In assessing Anselm’s argument, Gaunilo was searching for categorical evidence to correspond to the idea of “that-than-which-a-greater-cannot-be-thought.” Finding no such correspondence, Gaunilo rejected the argument. In the Proslogion’s opening soliloquy, Anselm himself had pursued this course before shifting his focus. In chapter one, Anselm laments that visual confirmation of God’s existence is not forthcoming, writing: “By what signs, under what aspect, shall I seek you? Never have I seen you, Lord my God, I do not know Your face. . . . What shall Your servant do, tormented by love of You and cast off ‘far from Your face’ [Ps. 31:22]?”20 Unlike Gaunilo, however, Anselm’s consciousness of his wretched state moves him from seeking a vision towards recognizing his desire to encounter God, and Clive Barrett notes how the language in the opening chapter of Proslogion shifts from vision to conception as the prayer proceeds.21 Anselm prays, “I do not try, Lord, to attain Your lofty heights, because my understanding is in no way equal to it. But I do desire to understand Your truth a little, that truth that my heart believes and loves.”22 Colin Grant noted that for Anselm “the existence of God is a question of meaning, not of evidence”; this opening prayer marks a shift towards interiority and fixes meaning within the speaker’s desire for God, a desire See Gotthold Lessing, On the Proof of the Spirit and of Power, trans. Henry Chadwick (London: A. & C. Black, 1956), 51—53. 20 Anselm, Proslogion 1, in Anselm of Canterbury, 85. 21 See Clive Barrett, “A Careful Reading of St. Anselm’s Ontological Argument,” Philosophy and Theology 23/2 (2011): 217—30, at 220. 22 Anselm Proslogion 1, in Anselm of Canterbury, 87, 19 �Denny, “From Doubt and Decline towards Dialogue,” page 12 that impels Anselm to think in a comparative manner that aims at constant transcendence of particular entities.23 Interpreted in this light, chapters one and two of Proslogion represent Anselm’s own liberation from what we can call the “epistemology of the fool” as defended by the likes of Gaunilo. The fool is one who does not make the transformation from exterior images to recognition of one’s internal neediness and desire for God, one who does not enter “into the chamber of your soul (in cubiculum mentis tuae)” to which Anselm alludes in chapter one of the Proslogion. The meaning that the idea of God holds for the thinker, however, is not to be equated with a subjectivist frame of reference, as if Anselm’s assertion in chapter two that to exist jointly in the mind and in reality is greater than merely mental existence specifically because of the power of the human mind. That would be to mistake Anselm for a modern philosophical idealist in the manner of someone like J. G. Fichte. Nor is meaning in Anselm’s sense of that word defined by a constructivist epistemological paradigm in which individual choice is the root variable that determines meaning. At the beginning of chapter three, Anselm claims “that-thanwhich-a-greater-cannot-be-thought” “cannot even be thought not to exist.”24 To his thinking the very process of thought compels the thinker and directs the mind towards a definite conclusion. In a contemporary world in which religious belief and unbelief hide behind terms of values and identity in order to avoid intellectual scrutiny, Anselm’s assertion relativizes without homogenizing the starting points of See Colin Grant, “Anselm’s Argument Today,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 57/4 (Winter 1989): 791—806, at 794. 24 Anselm, Proslogion, 3 in Anselm of Canterbury, 88. 23 �Denny, “From Doubt and Decline towards Dialogue,” page 13 the Proslogion’s stakeholders in light of an external standard of measurement that the author regards as self-evident. This is the mirror image of much contemporary religious agnosticism, in which believers and unbelievers homogenize their differences by subsuming them beneath a functional antinomy of sorts, a socialized framework of tolerance in which each side agrees that it must disagree with the other side because no rational conclusion can be reached. 4. Conclusion The possibility for a discussion about the Proslogion among Christians and non-Christians and among religious believers, religious non-believers, and religiously uncommitted students hinges upon mutual willingness to embrace what Gyula Klima has called “constitutive reference” as opposed to “parasitic reference.” The latter option is a staple in the methodological naturalism that reigns in the social sciences and the humanities in the contemporary academy. When we refer to an entity parasitically, we do so by reference to what others think about that entity without sharing in their conceptions about it. Constitutive reference by contrast is the act by which we intentionally refer to an entity by the mental description that we ourselves have of that entity, without such a description being determined by reference to other people’s thoughts.25 Much could be said about the logical and epistemological consequences of this distinction in reading Anselm. For my purposes, I would like to call attention to the implications of this distinction for a religiously pluralist classroom. To read Anselm “constitutively” rather than See Gyuma Klima, “Saint Anselm’s Proof: A Problem of Reference, Intentional Identity and Mutual Understanding,” in Medieval Philosophy and Modern Times, ed. Ghita Holmström-Hintikka (Boston: Kluwer, 2000), 69—87, at 77—83. 25 �Denny, “From Doubt and Decline towards Dialogue,” page 14 “parasitically” in this case means that teachers and students engage Anselm’s argument directly rather than burying it beneath historicist and theological assumptions that exemplify parasitic references. Examples of such parasitic references would be shoehorning the Proslogion into a mold of medieval thought or a mold of exclusively Christian philosophy or theology. Parasitic references can also be determined not by the text itself but by the academic setting in which we read Anselm, when for example the Proslogion is characterized predominantly as part of the Great Books heritage or the Roman Catholic tradition, or as a medieval classic. The Proslogion is part of all these groupings, but to leave off at that point marks a failure to address Anselm’s claims on their own merits. Some may fault my thesis as paying short shrift to the communal context within which books are read. That is a point worthy of further discussion. While the communal and ecclesial presumptions with which we read Anselm are important and inevitably influence our reading of his texts, I think that those assumptions become debilitating when they are determinative of our readings, especially in educational contexts in which formerly confessional or religiously orthodox institutions have transformed themselves into more pluralist and secular schools. I do not claim that this development has been a positive one on balance, but as Marsden notes, it has happened whether religious believers like it or not. Given his willingness to engage religious outsiders real and imagined in his own era, Anselm provides twenty-first century students with a model for how creedal belief �Denny, “From Doubt and Decline towards Dialogue,” page 15 and sincere dialogue can coexist in the university classroom nine centuries after his time.26 26 I give thanks to Mr. Paul Rezkalla for research assistance with this 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/. Title A name given to the resource "What is Liberal Education For?" 2014 Conference Papers 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 2014-10 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Meem Library has been given permission to make these items available online. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource PDF Language A language of the resource English 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. 15 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 From doubt and decline towards dialogue : discussing Anselm's Proslogion in the religiously pluralist classroom Description An account of the resource Paper presented on October 17, 2014 by Christopher Denny at What is Liberal Education For? : a conference at St. John's College on the 50th Anniversary of the Santa Fe campus. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Denny, Christopher D. (Christopher Douglas) 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 2014-10-17 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 Anselm, Saint, Archbishop of Canterbury, 1033-1109. Proslogion. Education, Humanistic Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context 24004527 https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/6c7f82e571ffcf96787d017c33baadf5.pdf 42618419dc1d0557237d080b1c83af5d PDF Text Text �The College Cover: Marble statuette of Socrates (d. 399 B.C.). Copy of a Greek original of the fourth century B.C. In the British Museum. The College is a publication for friends of St. John's College and for those.who might become friends of the College, if they came to know it. Our aim is to indicate, within the limitations of the magazine form, why, in our opinion, St. John's comes closer than any other college in the nation to being what a college should be. If ever well placed beacon lights were needed bY American education it is. now. By pubiishing articles about the work of the College, articles reflecting the distinctive life of the mind that is the College, we hope to add a watt or two to the beacon light that is St. John's. (Ed.) Editor: Laurence Berns Managing Editor: lV!ary P. Felter Alumni Editor: Thomas Farran, Jr. Editorial Assistant: Maurice Trimmer Editorial Consultant: James M. Tolbert Art Editor: Daniel Sullivan The College, part of The Bulletin series, is published by the Development Offices of St. John's College in Annapolis, Md. (Julius Rosenberg, Director) and Santa Fe, N. l\·!. (Frank McGuire, Director); Member, American Alumni Council. President, St. John's College, Dr. Richard D. Vv'cigle. Published four times a year in April, July, September, and December. Entered as Second-class matter, February 18, 1949, at the Post Office at Annapolis, l\laryland. Additional entrv, Baltimore, l\iaryland. · Volume XI April 1969 Number l In the April Issue: A World I Never Made~ by John S. Kieffer A Reading of the Gettysburg Address, by Eva Brann · "How Is The Seminar?" by Michael Ossorgin. • The College and the Underprivileged, by Laurence Berns I 6 14 17 News On The Campuses .. 19 Alumni Activities . 23 �A World I Never Made* By JOHN S. KIEFFER In one of A. E. Housman's poems there is this couplet: I alone and sore afraid In a world I never made. James T. Farrell chose the second of these lines as the title for his Studs Lanigan trilogy. The note of self-p1ty and alienation is all too evident and seems to express what manv young people today are feeling. Yet the same disclaimer. about world making is found in Augustine's Confessions, and there it serves as a starting point for the saint's joyous search for the true maker of the world. Between these two extremes, of alienation and reconciliation , the dialectic of the liberal arts tradition tends to oscillate. That you were born into a world you never made goes without saving: all of us are. The lesson I draw from Farrell's trilogy is that though you did not make the world, you can, \Vithout half trying, n1ake a mess of 1~. The whine of self-pity separates the one who feels tlus way from the world, makes of him a passive object, and while he is being ground up by the world he never made he is in turn making it a messy place. How this sort of thing may happen becomes clear when you examine what. we mean by the world and what our relation to it is. We come into a world we never made, but we come into it as a part of it and not as an object set over against it. In the first and broadest sense, the word ~<world" means the physical universe. Far, then, from making a world, you are made by it. Whatever possibilities lie before you are conditioned by your phys1cal being as a human animal. Your bodies take nourishment from the physical el1\'ironinent and are subject to natural laws-gravitation, growth and decay, change of many kmds. As participants in natural processes men are not merely takers from a fixed surrounding; they give as well as take and so in some way contribute to the continual making of the world. \Ve are, all of us, as Plato saw with poetic vision, part of a greater animal, the cosmos. * Lecture gi\·cn by Dean Kieffer on the Annapolis campus, Septem- ber 20, 1968. The world that we come into and that we never made is a human world, presupposing the physical, of course, but transcending it. A way of seeing symbolically the meaning of the human world is to think of two of the most important events in the early life of newcomers to the world. These are the infant's first word and his first step. With these he is initiated into the world of man. They are the true beginnings of the liberal arts. 'A'ith speech the animal perceptions that have constituted his world are aiven meaning through names. \Vith steps and walking the child begins to interact with the spatial world, to count and to measure and to achieve balance and rhythm. Of itself, locomotion is characteristic of most animals. It becomes human and liberal in combination with speech. To be human, then, is to be able to give names to patches of experience, which we call things in the most general sense. Once the nascent human being finds that things have names, the world of his experience becomes intelligible. But already, in showing him that things have names, the world has played a trick on him. He is bound to think for a while that names are somehow innate in things and to confuse the thing and its name. Nevertheless, the great power of names is that it frees one from bondage to the immediate and the particular. The name unites diverse particulars under one heading and enables the child to see something as persisting through change. Thus he can have a sense of the identity of himself and the world. He. is also able to communicate with others and so enter into the world of men. With names, for the first time, a sense of the unknown arises, and its fascination draws him into ventures that extend his horizons, making the world a bigger place for him. One must supJohn S. K.iefler, classicist, tntor, retiring, Dean ( 19?2-1969) and former hesident ( 1947-1949) of St. Johns College, IS one of that srna11 band of tutors which preceded and remained with the new, i.e., traditional, program of liberal ~nts instituted at the Col1ege in 1937. Dean Kieffer received his B.A. and M.A. from Harvard University and his Ph.D. from 111e Johns Hopkins University .. He ha~ be~ with the College since 1929. In 1964 the Johns B.opbns UmYemty 'Press published his Galen's Institutio Logica-English Translation, Introduction, and Commentary. 1 �The College pose that for animals there is no unknown as such. The world they live in is known in the mode of familiarity and to them nothing is unknown, but their world is a very restricted one. The fact that the unknown exists for men is expressed by Plato and Aristotle when they say that · philosophy begins in wonder. Capacity for language is the natural endowment by which the world makes the individual. As linguistic skill develops, the growing human being acquires his native bnguage, so called, and at first accepts the world that language reveals to him, partly trapped, as we have seen, ·by the easy confusion of word and thing. In the stricter sense, the liberal arts are the reflections on language, the conscious study and practice, in the light of great models, that come with schooling. It is this systematic study that frees a man from the tyranny of words, as Stuart Chase once called it, and allows him to pass from the stage of a slave to linguistic habit and become a master of his tongue. Although we are born into a world of language we never made, language as an art is one of the fundamental means of achieving freedom and participating in the ongoing making of the ever-changing world. The other branch of the liberal arts is mathematics. I have suggested that it is by walking that we enter into the mathematical world. Walking habituates us to counting and measuring. We find we have a different power over our world from the power that names give us. 'Nhereas by pointing and through names we can join with our fellows in understanding our world, through walking around in it we can come into close physical contact with its parts and gradually learn its shape and extent. Yet mathematics depends on language. Our counting and measuring, which we do by- moving around, must still be made intelligible through a set of names: the numbers with which we count, and the units with which we measure. The use of language gains something in return from mathematics. Counting and measurement are precise operations. Ordinary language is imprecise. The name, by virtue of ·its potential generality, does not correspond exactly with the thing it names. This is the starting point for metaphor and analogy, but it is also the source of fallacy and misjudgment. The names that assist the process of counting and measuring, however, force us into pre~ cision. The numbers by which we count are exactly what they are and stand in an order to each other. The units of measurement, too, must be fixed and exact. Thus in the mathematical sciences there is a corrective for the imprecision of language and a paradigm for precision in other subjects than mathematics. The faculties of the intellect and brain that give men the capacity to acquire the arts of grammar, rhetoric, and dialectic on the one hand and the arts of arithmetic and geometry on the other do not become actual without teaching and learning. In this respect they are different from the perhaps more fundamental faculty of sight. Man's 2 first awareness of the world is through his eyes and ears and the other senses, but it is only as the arts develop that he stops being an uncomprehending spectator, a detached observer, and becomes a participant with evergrowing awareness. The learning of the liberal arts, insofar as we as a college are concerned, is a reflective process and a combination of theory and practice, or, if you will, of science and art. We study the structure of language and of particular languages; we learn arithmetic and geometry in a systematic way. In acquiring the sciences of the liberal arts we are dealing with the reasons governing what we have been doing naturally since we learned to talk and listen, to walk around and feel the extent of our world. Along with the reflective understanding that our tutorials help us to develop we simultaneously practice the arts of the liberal understanding. We read and ponder and discuss; we observe, experiment, work problems. Liberal education, therefore, requires both reflection and participation, contemplation of the liberal structure of our world and participation in it, vicariously, perhaps, through reading but directly through the discipline of thinking and writing and talking. With the liberal arts men have shaped the world into which we are born and have recorded the work of those who have been the great shapers. It follows first, therefore, that every new human being in a world he never made is forced to conform to that world, on pain of losing his very humanity. A few years ago it was fashionable to ·decry "conformity" and to make a fetish of eccentricity. Nevertheless, conformity, in the sense I have described, is essential. As I have already pointed out, the liberal arts are dangerous and can mislead. Through men's lack of understanding of the nature of words in relation to things, it has come to pass that the world into which we come, the world made by previous generations, can and d<ies contain many illiberal elements, born of misconception and perpetuated by habit and indolence. On this basis objections to conformity are valid. Dissent has today taken the place of non-conformity as the slogan and rallying cry of the young. In any case, the consequences of defective exercises of the liberal arts in the past cry out for correction. It is, moreover, innate in the liberal arts that they do provide the means for correction of their former errors. As I was saying, you and everyone coming into the world must conform to the patterns of discourse and action created by previous generations if you are to become truly human. Only then, after you have learned those patterns and the opportunities they offer you for independent action and what is called now creativity, only then dare you question the conventional wisdom of your ancestors. But then you may; and any one of you who aspires to be a man and not a robot must exercise to the full your powers of creation and of persuasion for the achievement of your goals. �April 1969 But what ought these goals to be? Here I come to a new point of departure. The liberal arts I have been presenting are the instruments of acting as a man. They are the habits and rules by which you live in the human world both of intellect and of community. Being instruments, however, they are neutral to the ends for which they can be used. Not entirely, perhaps. It is hard to see how a man who can read well, and has read widely and thought deeply, could apply the liberal arts to nefarious ends. You need, however, look no further than Plato's dialogues to find in his portraits of the sophists examples of men who, in the common opinion at least, misused their liberal skills for selfish and unenlightened purposes. And they, the sophists, were in fact the first men to give · systematic study to the phenomena of language in all its aspects as a symbolic representation of reality. The question remains, to what goals do the liberal arts lead? This is to ask, in effect, what are the ends proper to human beings? A whole new question has arisen. Tradition gives us a choice of answers. To Plato and Aristotle the end is happiness, which itself is a concomitant of virtue and, more generally, the good. To the Jews, it is obedience to the law of God as given to Moses; to the Christian, to glorify God and to do his will. Apparently the existentialist would deny that there is an end proper to men, but would affirm that men may make for themselves, by affirmative action, an achieved end. Such an end, if achieved, is individual and not to be generalized to apply to all men. The variety of answers that men have held out to themselves leaves a dialectical choice to every young person as he pursues his education. Let us see if we can contribute anything to the dialectic. Philosophically the question of the proper end of man belongs to an area of thought that the eighteenth-century German teacher of philosophy, Christian Wolff, called teleology. The word comes from the Greek telos, which Aristotle uses so often as the term for his final cause. The study of ends, as Aristotle conceived it, is concerned with more than the end of man. Since man is a natural being and a part of and participator in the world, the existence of a final cause in the world and for the world would of course imply something about the end for man as well. Teleology, however, considers ends in general. The consideration of the end for man belongs rather to ethics and politics. Aristotle's discussion of causation and particularly final causation owes much to what he learned from Plato. His debt to his master is as evident in his disagreements with him as in his direct borrowings. Although it is always dangerously misleading to assert something too dogmatically about Plato's beliefs and philosophical opinions, it is probably true that for Plato the belief in a final cause, a telos, is an affirmation and not a fully reasoned conviction. The idea of the good, Socrates seems to assure us, cannot be proved by demonstrative reason but is grasped after a long preparation and excursion from mathematics to dialectic. Nevertheless the dialogues not only inspired in later thinkers a teleological approach to the world, but also supplied them in great part with the language and imagery of this way of viewing the world. There is a great resemblance between the teleology of Plato and Aristotle, and a profound difference. In both philosophers the world is dependent on a rational principle, and the things that change move toward an end and are good for something, as well as good simply to a greater or less degree. In both, art fits the same pattern as nature; in both, man has a special position of importance and through reason shares somehow in the divine nature. For Plato, however, it is almost safe to say, art is more -natural than it is for Aristotle. The "constructor of the all" works like a demiourgos, an artisan, and the cosmos 3 �The College is an artis!Jc product. In the lively dialectical dialogues culminating in the Republic, the arts-medicine, shipbuilding, farming, architecture and many others-are looked to for information about the way of the world. In Aristotle, on the other hand, art is distinct from nature and imitates her. For Plato the changing world has two principles of mO\·ement: the self-moving activity of rational soul and the disorderly motions of the primitive receptacle which nous brings into order by its persuasion of necessity. In Aristotle the divine noesis is an unmoved mover, who transmits motion to the world beneath him through the intermediary of the heavenly spheres with their moving intelligences. Nature, then, becomes the principle of movement of the things in the sub-lunar world. The disorderly motions of chaos, which Plato represented as somehow the energizing cause of motion in the world of becoming, disappear from Aristotle's picture. They are replaced by the potentialities of material, which are actualized by nature as efficient cause and tend toward the being of what they are potentially. The active working of intelligence in artisan fashion is replaced by the unconscious purposes of natural motion-except in the case of man. Man's intelligence allows him through art to be a principle of movement in material and so to imitate nature, as in contemplation he imitates God. I have dwelt at some length on the Platonic and Aristotelian discussions of ends because their philosophical analysis has had such mastery over our thinking. \Ne cannqt escape their influence. Let us, nevertheless, remem- ber that Aristotle certainly, and Plato in all probability, 'looked on the world as fundamentally unchanging, with fixed species maintaining themselves everlastingly through reproduction, true to type except for certain monstrous accidents. In their world, man's end was an assimilation of his life to the cosmic order of the universe. Virtue was at the same time the means to this end and the end, so far as men could attain it. While it is not true that the idea of progress was foreign to Plato and Aristotle or unacceptable to them, it is the case that the spatially finite, but temporally infinite, universe of their thought made fundamental progress philosophically impossible. In their view, while man was the roof and crown of nature, and was a microcosm that reflected the macrocosm of the universe, he could only contemplate the beauty of the cosmos, and that only if he was specially gifted, persevering, and lucky. He could not share in it creatively. It is significant that for Plato the sense of sight, the contemplative sense, is the paradigm of intellect. Much as we owe to Plato and Aristotle it is impossible for us to follow them in their definition of the ends proper to man. This is not a philosophical question only but a real question for each of us as we try to order our lives. As seen by the Jews and the Christians, man is a historical being and the world order is moving toward a culminating point, not endlessly repeating itself as the 4 ancient Greek conceived it. This \'ii.'\\' ::in'S much more importance to individuality. If mnt is hist?rical, individual men are distinguished by thcit l'lxc m th~ lime sequence. Their uniqueness is not liH'tch to be a:tnbuted to the simple material individuation ,,f ,·J.t;;~cal ph1losophr. They are no longer mere contempl.tl''" ,,f the ceaseless rounds of the heavens but doers a11 d "'"kcrs, partiCipants in the progress of m~n and the "'''tid tn its final end. Making and doing are inevitably aCC•'"'i'·"""d by m1stak~, by error. The contemplative man "' ,n·ll as the ~rac!J­ tioner of political virtue, as Aristot k C\''.'cei~es lum, IS essentially static. The great-souled "'"" ,,t Anstotle, and all his politically virtuous men, arc 1h''""clves objects of contemplation; their value lies in whJI thcv are and_ the example they set to other men, rathcr 1h:lltlll the a~hievc­ ment of any social or political goa h. 11 tIus VIew, VIrtue is its own reward." Historical man on the other hand. 11·hile he has his own virtues, gait;s his being from his particiJ.?a~ion ~n the ongoing of the world. The dnl'ltilll' of ?ngmal sm is an expression of rrian' s partiality in IIH, !ustonc~l. proce~s. It is an account of the fallibility ,,f :1111· p~rhcipant m a process that extends beyond him<~·lf. Ihat mvolves hnn in goals whose achievement he canllnl_ expect to see .. It is also an account of the greatne~~ of man as a bemg capable of helping to forward such gn:tls. I am not here expressing an optimistic view that cn'J_rl hmg_ tends toward good. Far from it. It is only too plaill th;tl nnstakes,errors, crime's, stupidity, misfortUne play :1 .I:J.rgc part m any historical process. It is only that I wn11ld have you keep in mind that this is not the whole ;H·cmmt, that there IS achievement as well as misfortune, :nHl that man's life is meaningful because it is measured by its failures as well as by its successes. The measure is what is in quesliotL In the Platgnic tradition the archetypal universe, the tdeas, were the measure. In Aristotle's formulation ill!' Hk:ts become God, moving the world as the beloved moves Ihe love~. In evert thing there is a movement from wh;tl is poss1ble !or It to what it actually becomes, and this lltove':'ent IS set going by the first mover, who is pore ;tc\oahty_ or Go~!. If we try to find a measure by which I" tlctermme mans success or failure in achieving his end. we cannot wholly abandon the Platonic and Aristotelian vtcw. As we have seen, man is born into the world wil h C'l'rt"ain limit~ti<:>ns and with certain potentialities concli\i1111!'d by those limitations. To live is to actualize the huJII'"' potenhahhes one is born with and the ideas or the At i::totelian God are pure actualit;,, Yet the measure of ;whicvcment is not a simple imitation of God. In treating of the physical world, At i::totle talks about time and concludes that time is tlw JHIIIlher or measure of change. Change, for Aristotle, is tlw l1111damental C~~'] dihon of the physical worlcl. If wt· '"""cler the soct.I world of man, "action" 'replaces "r lr:ntr;e" as the key J �April 1969 term. "Action" in Greek is· praxis and is used only of human action. In physics there is no action, only motion· and change. Now, I propose to say that history is the measure of action. As I have already remarked, the Jews and the Christians make history a central factor in understanding human life. I take the term "history" broadly to mean the available record of human events. And I include myth and poetry in the record. Myths and epics and dreams are historical events in themselves and are reflections, images, imitations if you will, of human action. If historv is the measure of human action, which occurs in the phy;ical world into which man is born, then history is the record and the measure of man's exploitation of nature, his own included. Man's potentialities, supplied by his nature, include the power to take advantage of the potentialities that exist in nature and that are realized, apart from man, in the procession of time. The potentialities of nature, when viewed in connection with the ends proper to man, become instrumental values, which man can use and order to his ends. To speak of potentiality and value in nature leads us to the scholastic "metaphysical goodness of all things." Since the world is finite, possibilities always outnumber actualities, and so nature as actualized is radically imperfect. Not every good that might be is, in fact, actualized; on the other hand, from a narrower point of view, not everything actualized is good in all respects. But because of contingency in nature it canna! be said that nature is simply wasteful; that which in one event shows as a wasted potentiality or seems to be good for nothing, may contingently, or through human art, find elsewhere a use or perform a function productive of something good. Thus being and goodness are intermingled aspects in events. It may be objected that in "following this line of argument we have to go from Heraclitus to Protagoras, even as Theaetetus and Theodorus are made to do, and that it has now been said that "man is the measure of all things." Now, there is a sense in which this proposition is true for Plato. Taking good as the measure of that ·which contributes to human happiness is to assign to man a position of dignity with respect to the standard by which things are measured. It is clear, however, that this is to apply to man a standard that is more widely rooted in nature (or as Plato would say, being) than the life and opinions of any particular man. Thus man is the measure of all things insofar as he converts the instrumental goods of nature into the ingredients of his happiness. This is what I have called history. But nature is the measure of man insofar as his happiness depends on the natural endowment which he, as a part of nature, possesses. In this respect, as a finite being, man, as well as nature, fails to realize many potentialities, but since he is rational and is free to choose, his failure is the occasion of tragedy, while nature's failures are only faults or, if on a large scale, catastrophes, but are never tragic. The actuality of human life teems with possibilities, some to be realized, some deferred, some excluded. Among the possibilities is heightened awareness of surroundings. If possibility and its passage to actuality are a primary fact, the mind's awareness of process becon1es an awareness of possibility, of use. From this comes the mind's power, through intellect and imagination, that is, through the liberal arts, to find its way to the unactualized and the unactual, to myths that enlighten the human spirit, to philosophy. Philosophy may supply the connection between the ideal criterion of which I spoke and the historical and mythical paradigms against which we measure ourselves and our condition. It is an activity by which we get a better grasp of existence and so understand the conditions under which we live and are active. Activity rather than spectatorship is natural to us. \Vhat I. spoke of a while ago as teleology is the part of philosophy that leads from metaphysics to ethics and politics, because it shows us that we have a proper end rooted in the being of the cosmos but individually significant. Though we did not make the world into which we came, teleology tells us that we are makers, the only ones perhaps within nature; that by our living we make the world partly new; that if we attain wisdom, we may even make our part of the world a little better. This is a small and finite hope, but it is at least genuine. 5 �A Reading of the Gettysburg Address* By EVA BRANN Liberal education ought to be less a matter of becoming well read than a matter of learning to read well, of acquiring the arts of awareness, the interpretative or "trivial" arts. Some works, written by men who are productive masters of these arts, are exemplary for their interpretative application. Lincoln's Gettysburg Address is such a text, and the following reading did indeed begin as an exercise in a language tutorial in Annapolis. But although an exercise, it was nevertheless done on the hypothesis essential to liberal study: that what the author wrote then might be true even now. I. The Speech As A Whole It is probably best to begin by observing what is most ob1·ious about this "Address Delivered at the Dedication of the Cemetery at Gettysburg" (p. 734 )-its brevity. It consists of ten sentences which can be spoken in a little over two minutes. We know from Lincoln himself that he chose his format quite deliberately. When Everett generously wrote to him,' "I should be glad if I could flatter myself that I came as near to the central idea of the occasion in two hours as you did in two minutes," Lincoln answered, "In our respective parts yesterday, you could not have been excused to make a short address, nor I a long one" (p. 737). Edward Everett had been chosen to be the main speaker at the dedication of the national cemetery at Gettysburg, on ground bought by the eighteen Northern states which had lost men in the battle there. Lincoln, as chief of state, had been invited only two weeks before the ceremony. Everett courteously sent Lincoln his own two-hour speech, composed in the classicizing style for which he, a professor of Greek, was famous, so that Lincoln could consider it in writing his own. \Ve might then expect Lincoln's speech to be composed as a counterpoise to Everett's; in fact, it seems to be a tacit and tactful repudiation of the classical rhetorical tradition, not only in style, which is (in contrast to Everett's Latinate dactyls) English and iambic, but in a deeper way. For Everett's speech was explicitly modelled on Pericles's Funeral Oration as given by Thucydides, but Lincoln can be contrasted with Thucydides's Pericles precisely as an American with an Athenian statesman, as a republican leader with an oligarch, that is, as a political teacher with a master manipulator. The Gettysburg Address will, accordingly, turn out to be a distillation of Lincoln's political philosophy, which he, on this occasion as on many others, attempted to infuse into the nation at large, a nation distinguished by the fact that its prosperity "has a philosophical cause" (p. 513). It is for this reason that the written versions of the speech have no formal salutation, just as its body does not contain the pronoun "I." The very brevity that made its ten sentences at the time so fugitive in the hearing makes them a "permanent possession" in later readings. For because of it the speech is readily learned by heart and is, in fact, learned by heart by many school children. That means that it may succeed in lodging in the heart, in the form of sound sentiment, those very propositions, essential to the national life, which are too difficult-and perhaps too dubious-to be continually kept in mind. Lincoln recognized that "In this age, in this country, public sentiment is everything." Lincoln's rhetoric aims at the conversion of political principle into "moral sentiment" (p. 401). Consequently, as a scanning of the grand framework of this little speech shows, Lincoln makes his brief words E,·a Brann, tutor of St. John's College since 1957, Ph.D. (Stanford), FeHow of American School of Classical Studies in Athens, Sibley Fellow of Phi Beta Kappa at the Agora Excavations in Athens, mem- ber of the Institute of Ad,·anccd Study, Princeton (1958-1959), has recently published an extensive study of Plato's Republic, "The Music * This article, given as a lecture on both campuses in the fall of 1963, is a much shortened version of a study published in a supplement to The Palaestra, a student magazine. Page references are to Abraham Lincoln: His Speeches and \Vritings, ed. R. P. Basler, Universal Libmry, 1962. 6 of the Republic," in Arn~. Journal of Classical Studies, University of California, Berkdc)·, April, 1967. She is also the translator from the Gennan of Jacob Klein's Greek Mathematical Thought and the Origins of Algebra, M.I.T. Press, 1968, and author of numerous articles in the St. John's Collegian on mathematics, astronomy, and other subjects in the liberal ai:ts. I I �April 1969 poignant with a world of meaning. In time it spans the past ("Four score and seven years ago"), the present C'l\Tow we are engaged in a great civil \var"), and the future ("this nation ... shall have a new birth of freedom"), and in space it comprises the battleground on which it is delivered (in the middle sentences), the continent on which the nation was born (in the first sentence), and the earth which it is to save (in the last sentence). II. The First Paragraph Lincoln begins: "Four score and seven years ago.". "Four score/' with its long oh's, SOUI).dS a more mournful, solemn note than could the words "eighty-seven years," but the choice of the phrase is not only a matter of sound; it also carries a special meaning. It is the language of the Bible, as in Psalm 90:10: The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away. \Vith the psalm in mind the phrase implies: just beyond the memory of anyone now alive, too long ago for living memory. Now, we know that from youth on Lincoln was concerned with a peculiarly American danger: the death of sound political passion. In his speech on "The Perpetuation of our Political Institutions," of 1838, Lincoln drew a. clear parallel with the early community of Christians, whose danger lay in the fact that the generation of disciples and eye-witnesses had been followed by a second generation which had only heard by word of mouth, by a third which had only read of Christ, and by a fourth which had begun to forget. So in the American community; the scenes of the revolution, he said, "cannot be so universally known, nor so vividly felt, as they were by the generation just gone to rest" (p. 84). The men who had seen the Revolution, who were its "living history/' ar~ now gone. They were the pillars of the temple of liberty; and now, that they have crumbled away, that temple must fall, unless we, their descendants, supply their places with other pillars, hewn from the solid quarry of sober reason. (p. 84) The danger that the enthusiasms of the Revolution might fade away has advanced to a fact in 1863, the time of the fourth generation from that event; the national edifice has to be rebuilt "from the solid quarry of sober reason." This is the age for a deliberate mining of the first accounts, for reading the founding documents. So, then, "Four score and seven years agd' points to that quarry, that mine, of reason. Subtract 87 from 1863 and the result is 1776. Lincoln considers that this nation was both conceived in and born with the Declaration of Independence. On July 7, 1863, in response to a serenade on the occasion of the victory of Gettysburg, under tl1e influence of the providential coincidence that the victories of Gettysburg and of Vicksburg had both been announced Address Delivered at the Dedication of the Cemetery at Gettysburg Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. "'e have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate-we can not consecrate-we can not hallow-this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us .to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us-that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion-that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vainthat this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom-and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth. November 19, 1863. ABRAHAM LINCOLN. on the Fourth of July, he had said: How long ago is it-eighty odd years-since on the Fourth of July for the first time in the history of the world a nation by its representatives, assembled and declared as a self-evident truth that "all men are created equal." That was the birthday of the United States of America (p. 709). And in earlier speeches he had often counted back the 80 or 82 years to 1776 (pp. 392, 393). In repeatedly fixing on the signing of the Declaration as a crucial date, Lincoln is making a deliberate political judgment concerning the hierarchy of founding events, different for instance from that of Toombs of Georgia, who had begun a speech in 1850 in this way: "Sixty years ago our fathers joined together to form a more perfect Union and to establish justice," referring the founding of the republic to 1790 (the date when the last original state ratified the Constitution), and quoting from its Preamble. Lincoln's version gives rather the birtl1 of the nation. 7 �The College Lincoln goes on: "our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal." The "fathers," then, are the men who devised and signed the Declaration, especially Jefferson. These men "brought forth": this is again Biblical diction; the phrase is used, for instance, in Luke 1:31, in the annunciation of the Messiah's birth. They "brought forth on this continent": there are undertones here of "begot upon the body of this land," "fathered on this fallow continent as mother"; the child nation is safe in the lap of a whole continent, capable of protecting it from foreign interference and of providing those unlimited riches which are its material condition. The new nation was "conceived in Liberty" (Liberty being the only noun capitalized besides "God") : not conceived in love as are blessed children, but conceived in the spirit of liberty as are blessed nations (cf. p. 315). Thus the begetting of this nation was a begetting of reason (so also "bringing forth" can mean "uttering reasons," as in Isaiah 41:21). Upon this all but holy conception, the nation-child was devoted to a proposition as in a baptism. The proposition "that all men are created equal" was in quotation marks in the first draft (p. 735), since it comes from the second paragraph of the Declaration of Independence. What is the significance of the birthdate of 1776? Consonant with the second Federalist, Lincoln held that the Declaration of Independence was preceded by the Union which had been formally established by the Articles of Association of 1774 and was succeeded by the establishment of the Constitution in 1787 (p. 582). This sequence was of the greatest significance, for it meant that the nation's birth was a birth of principle, a birth whose conditions had been made safe by the slightly antecedent union of the people and whose nature was kept safe by allowing the practical instrument of its life to wait on its conception. Thus, using phrases borrowed from Proverbs 25:11, Lincoln wrote of the principle "Liberty to all" as expressed in the Declaration: The assertion of that principle, at that time, was the word, "fitly spoken" which has proved an "apple of gold" to us. The Union and the Constitution are the picture of silver, subsequently framed around it (p. 513). Here "subsequently" must, in the case of the Union, mean not later in time, but in political priority. Lincoln, then, held the Declaration to be far more than a declaration of independence, and indeed, it would in that case have been a peculiar document to cite in a war to fight secession. But it is n1uch more; for its author, Jefferson, had, Lincoln said, "had the coolness, forecast and capacity to introduce into a merely revolutionary document an abstract truth" (p. 489). It is precisely in the omission of this truth that the various declarations 8 of ,ndependence adopted by the Union's adversaries are characterized (p. 607). And so Lincoln says: I have never had a feeling politically that did not spring from the sentiments embodied in the Declaration of Independence. . . . It was not the mere matter of the separation of the Colonies from the motherland; but that sentiment in the Declaration of Independence which gave liberty, not alone to the people of this country, but, I hope, to the world, for all future time (Address in Independence Hall, 1861, p. 577, cf. pp. 362, 513). Now, what is of prime importance in the speech is bow these principles, which mark the true beginning of the nation, are held. Lincoln denominates them "conceptions" and "propositions." In the Declaration the fathers had held these "truths to be self-evident." Something has happened between the founding and the present which forces Lincoln to call the axioms of the Declaration mere propositions. What happened was that the Declaration had been called in public "a self-evident lie," a phrase Lincoln often cited with repugnance (pp. 314, 331, 489), for it creates a dangerous situation: One would start with great confidence that he could .· convince any sane child that the simpler propositions . of Euclid are true; but, nevertheless, he would fail, utterly, with one who should deny the definitions and axioms. The principles of Jefferson are the definitions and axioms of free society (p. 489). We know that Lincoln had made a special effort to study texts concerned with, and to ponder the nature of, axiomatic self-evidence and logical consequence. In his short autobiography he particularly mentions that he had "studied and nearly mastered the six books of Euclid since he was a member of Congress" (p. 549). He understood that self-evidence is a peculiarly delicate affair, since once impugned, once only denied in public, a self-evident truth turns into a debatable proposition. Yet as the axiom, precisely by reason of its self-evidence, is unprovable, so the proposition has no proof from higher principles, but can be verified only from its consequences or-dreadful prospect-from the fatal consequences of its contrary-the very situation of the Civil War. What, more precisely, are these principles whose standing has changed? In the words of the Declaration they are "that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness." Here equality of creation, equality before God, precedes and is the condition of the other rights, of which only some are named. Now Lincoln seems in the Gettysburg Address to reverse this order in setting liberty as the first conception, as he had before termed "Liberty to all" the principle of the Declaration (p. 513). But elsewhere he says, "I believe that the declaration that all men are created equal is the r f• ! I i ! ' ~ ' �April 1969 great fundamental principle upon which our free institutions rest" (p. 479). \Vhat does Lincoln consider to be the real relation of these two principles? De Tocqueville, in the chapter inquiring "VV"hy Democratic Nations Show a More Ardent and Endur{ng Love of Equality than of Liberty" (Democracy in America, II, ii, l), considers liberty and equality two diverse and independent things; equality, he says, pertains primarily to the social, liberty to the political sphere. Yet he admits that ultimately and radically considered, the two are what would be called in logical terms "commensurately uni~ versa]," that is, they imply each other: "It is possible to imagine an extreme point at which freedom and equality would meet and blend." Lincoln takes exactly this "extreme" view. He habitually sets out his understanding of the principle of equality wrth respect to the slavery question, which would appear to be primarily a question of liberty. On the other hand, he interprets equality of creation to mean precisely the possession of inalienable rights 1 chief among which is political liberty. The order of the two terms in the speech, then, srgmfies only that a community conceived in the spirit of liberty is congenitally devoted to the enunciated condition of its conception, the axiom of equality. Lincoln is able to join the two conceptions in this way precrsely because he does not make De Tocqueville's divisiOn between the social nature of equality and the political nature of liberty. Equality, the ruling article of Lincoln's political thought, is not fundamentally a social or even a political matter, for it is prior to human affairs. Lincoln asserts the serious converse of De Tocqueville's statement that Men who are similar and etjual in the world readily conceive the idea of the one God, governing every man by the same laws and granting to every man future happmess on the same conditions. The idea of the unity of mankind constantly leads them back to the idea of the unity of the Creator (II, i, 5). The effect of this converse is a deep doctrine regarding man's original nature in the strict sense and his conse~ quent standing in what Lincoln calls "the economy of the Universe/' namely his common submission to ''the justice of the Creator to his creatures ... to the whole great family of man"; it is a deep-felt revival of Jefferson's discarded version of the Declaration, which had asserted "that all men arc created equal and independent; that from tl1at equal creation they derive rights inherent and inalienable." This crcaturely equality implies no social homogeneity at all-the authors of the Declaration, Lincoln asserts, "did not mean to say all were equal in color, SIZe, mte1lect, moral developments, or social capacity" (p. 360). But it does mean that men have each a will of their own and a sufficient amount of good common sense for the earthly realization of their equality, in civil liberty, which, in effect, is self-government; it is on this view of human nature as having its source in a creator that Lincoln's trust in the wisdom of the people concerning the basic matters of ordinary life depends. The American social situation is, then, the consequence of America's political principles; or to put it another way, in America society is originally based on political principles, and politics, which is ultimately a matter of faith, precedes society, not the reverse (cf. p. 279). III. The Second Paragraph Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. In his middle paragraph Lincoln passes from "four score and s·even years ago" and "our fathers" to "now" and "we," from the generation of the Revolution to the generation of the Rebellion, of the "great civil war," which, in its enormity, he had in the days of the victory of Gettysburg termed, in Miltonic language, a "gigantic Rebellion" (p. 709, also p. 702). Indeed, there was to him something of the Fall in what he termed the wanton "destruction of our national fabric, with all its benefits, its memories, and its hopes" (First Inaugural Address, p. 584). Yet in that very speech Lincoln had maintained the right of revolution (p. 587), a right he had already asserted in the House as a "sacred right" during the war with Mexico. But, he maintained, the action of the Southern states was not revolution nor secession-it was "rebellion" (p. 602). The states could not leave the Union, for they had never existed, as states, "out of" ·the Union, but had entered it, insofar as they were entities at all, only as colonies, or, if as territories, from the state of nature (p. 479). There could be no "war between the states" but only a "civil war." He justified this legalism by the argument that the Union alone is the guarantor of republican government through the Constitution. For this reason the Union-although, as De Tocqueville observed, an abstract being-is absolutely unbreakable. Lincoln's effort is to turn the assent to this abstraction into a palpable feeling, even in this •Speech in which, out of tactful respect for the fact that a national but not a federal cemetery is being dedicated, the word "Union" never appears. But, secession being rejected, what remains of the right of revolution? Lincoln's thinking on this crucial matter is that of a radical conservative. When charged with revolutionary views himself, he protests his conservatism: \\That is conservatism? Is it not adherence to the old and tried, agaiqst the new and untried? \Ve stick to, contend for, the identical old policy on the point in controversy which was adopted by "our fathers who framed the government under which we live" (p. 528); but since the controversy referred to is the extension of slavery, which Lincoln opposed with all his might, his 9 �The College very opposition to change is conceived in the spirit of the Revolution. In other words, in this country, whose orig' inal go\'ernment was constituted by revolution, the most progressive side tries most faithfully to return to the beginnings; that side has once and for all preempted the Revolution, the essence of which is the process of change by majority decision, so that all rebellion is counterrevolution. But this means that in a well-founded polity justice is almost identical with organic law, and a sense of justice with the intention to make it "long endure." Hence the right of revolution is strictly circumscribed. If, by mere force of numbers, a majority should deprive a minority of any clearly written constitutional right, it might, in a moral point of vie\v, justify revo- lution-certainly would, if such a right were a vital one (p. 584). The issue must be one of constitutional rights denied, and any sectional or factional uprising, upon a mere feeling of dissent, constitutes an uprising against the people. So Lincoln savs of the secessionists: These politicians are subtile and profound on the rights of minorities. They are not partial to that power which made the Constitution, and speaks from the Preamble, calling itself "We the People" (p. 606). This war, Lincoln goes on to say, is a test. The crisis has t]le .;ature of a test, because this government is an e>;periment, as Lincoln said in his message to Congress, which he had called into special session to meet on that fateful day of July 4, at the beginning of the war in 1861: Our popular government has often been called an experiment. Two points in it our people have already settled-the successful establishing, and the successful administering of it. One still remains-its successful maintenance against a formidable internal attempt to overthrow it (p. 608). As the final phase of an experiment the war represents one test for all cases, a model case of a nation well established, in which two necessary founding conditions were optimal, namely the wisdom of the fathers and the receptivity of the continent; if this nation fails, then it is demonstrated that "any nation" must fail. This is how the American enterprise had been understood from the founding; "it seems to hove been reserved," says the first Federalist, to the people of this country, by their conduct and example, to decide the important question, whether societies of men are really capable or not, of establishing good government from reflection and choice. IV. The Third. Paragraph In the last two sentences, half the speech in length, Lincoln develops the single explicit theme of the speechthe second dedication of the nation, in this consecrated place, here among the dead (Lincoln removed a fourth 10 "here" from the final version), in that spell-like diction which gives successive colons identical or near-identical endings. To describe the nature of this new dedication he mingles the language of church and legislative assembly. The dedication, the consecration, the hallowing, the devotion Lincoln urges is of a political sort. He had urged it already in 1838, in his speech on "The Perpetuation of our Political Institutions": Let reverence for the laws ... become the political religion of the nation; and let the old and the young, the rich and the poor, the grave and the gay, of all sexes and tongues, and colors and conditions, sacrifice unceasingly upon its altars (p. 81). Lincoln is deliberately consecrating politics. The last two clauses give the effect of the new dedication: "that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom." The words "under God" were not in the first draft;- they were reported in the newspaper versions of the speech as delivered and later incorporated by Lincoln (cf. p. 752). Why, did he add them? Under the heading "Of Civil Religion," the last heading in The Social Contract, Rousseau describes the civil religion of republics which it is the business of the sovereign to set out, not as religious dogmas but as "sentiments of socialibility." They ought to be simple, few in number, precisely fixed, and without explanation or comment. The existence of a powerful, wise, and benevolent Divinity, who foresees and provides the life to come, the happiness of the just, the punishment of the wicked, the sanctity of the social contract and the laws (IV; viii). This is precisely the nature of Lincoln's faith as continually set out in his public pronouncements. The nation is under a beneficent Father who "dwelleth in the Heavens" (p. 728). It has a double parentage-the founding fathers and the Father above. This nation will have "a new birth of freedom." Those words were not, at the time, felt to be at all innocuous. Nor are they, if "of freedom" is read not as an objective genitive, so that the nation is said to give birth to a new freedom, but as a parallel to "conceived in Liberty," so that the nation itself is said to be reborn. The Chicago Times, in reporting the speech, said that in this phrase "Mr. Lincoln did most foully traduce the motives of the men who were slain at Gettysburg," for they fought only to preserve the old government. Now, as has been shown, Lincoln in !net agreed with this conservative view of the struggle, but in a not so innocuous way. He had said: Let us re-adopt the Declaration of Independence, and with it, the practices and policy, which harmonize with it. Let north and south-let all Americans-let all lovers of liberty everywhere-join in the great and good work. If we do this, we shall not only have saved the Union; but we shall have so �April 1969 saved it, as to make, and keep it, forever worthy of saving. \Ve shall have so saved it, that the succeeding millions of free happy people, the world over, shall rise up, and call us blessed, to the latest generations (p.315). . The last phrases are a paraphrase of the Magnificat, the words of the mother-to-be of the Messiah: "For, behold, from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed" (Luke 1:48). It is Lincoln's awesome idea that the generation of the Civil War, under his leadership, is at once the savior and the parent of the savior nation, that America is to politics "almost" as Israel was to the spirit. That means that for the Union side the war is a kind of second coming, a second bringing-forth, after four score and seven years. Lincoln has converted Jefferson's extravagant opinion that "a little rebellion, now and then, is a good thing" (Letter to Madison, January 30, 1787) into a serious view concerning the . periodic rebirth of the Revolution-to occur, evidently, in fullest force in the fourth generation, once in a century. In this idea Lincoln recognizes that a country founded in a revolution is bound to have a generational problem, brought about by the very success of the system, for he says: We, when mounting the stage of existence, found ourselves the legal inheritors of these fundamental blessings. We toiled not in the acquirement or establishment of them-they are a legacy bequeathed us, by a once hardy, brave, and patriotic, but now lamented and departed race of ancestors (p. 77). The generational dilemma raised by successful survival of the revolutionary institutions is that the successor generations, bred in that most desirable ignorance, the ignorance of anarchy and despotism, and mistaking the drained habits of their parents for the tradition, will in the low of political passion arouse themselves by giving current problems a cataclysmic cast, and may, developing an appetite for unknown terror, be willing to cure dissatisfaction by catastrophe. A return to the founding Revolution alone can forestall such an event, or if, as in the case of the Civil War, the event becomes a fact, can turn it into an act of salvation. Lincoln continually makes the effort to convert the war in this way, even comparing its financial funding to that of the Revolution (p. 602). But the phrase "a new birth of freedom" also has a more precise meaning. Lincoln contended that the Declaration of Independence included Negroes and that the authors of the Constitution intended that slavery would in time be abolished. Accordingly he was the implacable foe of the extension of slavery-this single issue dominates his speeches before the war. It was an issue important to him partly because peculiarly connected with it was the question of the axiomatic character of the founding principles, namely the question of their universality. Such propositions, pronounced concerning "all men/' must either altogether fail or altogether prevail, in respect both to institutions: "I believe this government cannot endure, permanently half slave and half free" (1858, p. 372), and to individuals: , This is a world of compensations; and he who would be no slave, must consent to have no slave. Those who deny freedom to others, deserve it not for themselves; and, under a just God, can not long retain it (p.489). Lincoln repeatedly pointed out that the fathers had not allowed the word "slavery" to disfigure the text of the Constitution. No more does it occur in the Gettysburg Address, and yet it is there, in the background, for on the first of that very year he had issued the Emancipation Proclamation, and that fact gave a specific meaning to the "new birth of freedom." Lincoln begins with the Revolution and its statement of principle, the Declaration; he ends with a phrase defining popular government and alluding to its instituting document, the Constitution. This represents the natural difference in the commitments of the first and the ll �The College fourth generations: As the patriots of seventy-six did to support the Declaration of Independence, so to the support of the Constitution and Laws, let every American pledge his life, his property, and his sacred honor (p. 81; cf. Declaration, end). This government "shall not perish from the earth"that is the Work," the "task," the Cause." Lincoln has ended, as he began, with language heavy with the Bible: The good man is perished out of the earth: and there is none upright among men: they all lie in wait for blood; they hunt every man his brother with a net (Micah 7:2). If this rebellion prevails, this allusion warns, so that this government does perish, men will return to that universal state of war, the war of each against all, which precedes the institution of government; the Rebellion will undo the Founding. In Lincoln's words: Plainly, the central idea of secession, is the essence of anarchy. A majority, held in restraint by constitutional checks and limitations, and always changing easily with deliberate changes of popular opinions and sentiments is the only true sovereign of a free people. \Vhoever rejects it, does, of necessity, fly to anarchy or despotism ( 1861, p. 585). And finally, there is the allusion to Jeremiah 10:11: "The gods that have not made the heavens and the earth, even they shall perish from the earth." False gods shall perish, but the government of the people shall not perish. 11 11 V. The Speaker After having, at length, considered the speech, it rs legitimate to consider the speaker. Lincoln is, at his height, a public man: If ever I feel the soul within me elevate and expand to those dimensions not wholly unworthy of its Almighty Architect, it is when I contemplate the cause of my country (1839, p. 112). But an American speaker who, like Lincoln, means to put his whole soul at the service of the body politic, has a peculiar problem, rooted in the quality of American life, which De Tocqueville describes in the chapter called "Of Some Sources of Poetry Among Democratic Nations": "Nothing conceivable is so petty, so insipid, so crowded with paltry interests-in one word so anti-poetic-as the life of a man in the United States" (II, i, 17). This is because democracy has given up in distaste the source of aristocratic poetry, the past, while its 1·ery principle, that of equality, deprives it, by making all contemporaries equally mediocre, of sources in the present. There remain to democratic poets, De Tocqueville says, only three sources of theme.s: the nation, the future, and God-and these precisely anticipat.e the themes of 12 Lincoln's public poetry. But, as he observes in the chapter on "\Vhy American Writers and Orators Often Use an Inflated Style," it is difficult to present these themes at the middle distance: In democratic communities, each citizen is habitually engaged in the contemplation of a very puny object: namely, himself. If he ever raises his looks higher, he perceives only the immense form of society at large or the still more imposing aspect of mankind. His ideas are all either minute and clear or extremely general and vague; what lies between is a void (II, i, 18). The very nature of the principles of equality and liberty is responsible for this American problem of the middle void. For they are axioms of openness, that is, propositions of reason which are yet not intended as prescriptive bases for the whole of life, principles of potentiality which, not being themselves goods, only offer the possibility of goods, the foundations of a prosperous privacy, which become the less interesting the more efficacious they are. The Gettysburg Address begins and ends not only with phrases borrowed from American oratory but with the diction of the Bible. In his effort to fill this American void, Lincoln finds a source book which is at once traditional but not antique, which offers an appropriate alternative to classicizing rhetoric. The Bible, on the one hand, lends him a language at once high and popular, a language of salvation with which to magnify the American enterprise; with its diction. he speaks as "Father Abraham," as the first patriarch of a new generation of founding fathers. On the other hand, it supports him in a view of the nature of political affairs as finally beyond merely human management, a nature whose public acknowledgement damps the hysterical activity filling the American void, and reduces it to that melancholic deliberateness on which the public business thrives. So the same speaker who is so eminently democratic in theme is the very reverse in form. Again De Tocqueville provides the criteria in his chapter on "Literary Characteristics of Democratic Times": Taken as a whole, literature in democratic ages can never present, as it does in periods of aristocracy, an aspect of order, regularity, science and art; its form, on the contrary, will ordinarily be slighted, sometimes despised. Style will frequently be fantastic, incorrect, overburdened, and loose, almost always vehement and bold. Authors will aim at rapidity of execution more than at perfection of detail. Small productions will be more common than bulky books (II, i, 13). Now, this otherwise so accurate description is conspicu· ously inapplicable to Lincoln's writing. The Gettysburg Address is small, to be sure, but it was not rapidly executed: Lincoln had brought a worked-over draft from �April 1969 \Vashington; he re-worked this in Gettysburg on the eve of deliverv, and he amended each of the three known copies he made over the next three months. Although, as he said, not a master of language nor in possession of a fine education, he was careful; he wrote to a man who had submitted to him an edited version of one of his speeches: So far as it is intended merely to improve in grammar, and elegance of composition, I am quite agreed; but I do not wish the sense changed, or modified. to a hair's breadth. And you, not having studied particular points so closely as I have, can not be quite sure that you do not change the sense when you do not intend it (p. 545). His style is the very opposite of that of the typical democratic writer described by De Tocqueville in his chapter on "How American Democracy has Modified the English Language" (II, i, 16), who out of lack of care, love of change and desire for bigness, uses old words in indeterminate senses, introduces vast numbers of new words usuallv borrowed from technical vocabularies, and loads his sp.eech with abstract and general expressions. The lapidary precision of form, deliberately acquired in a solitary study of grammar, which carries the patriarchal grandeur of Lincoln's rhetoric is a sign of a novel kind of aristocracy-republican aristocracy. Lincoln tacitly rejected Everett's cold classicism as inappropriate to a democratic speaker whose object must not be to demonstrate or exert his own superiority. His own rhetoric shows precisely those special characteristics of certain ancient aristocratic writers, of whom De Tocqueville writes in the chapter entitled "The Study of Greek and Latin Literature is Peculiarly Useful in Democratic Communities": Nothing in their works seems done hastily or at random; every line is written for the eye of the connoisseur and is shaped after some conception of ideal beauty. No literature places those fine qualities in which the writers of democracies are naturally deficient in bolder relief than that of the ancients; no literature, therefore, ought to be more studied in democratic times (II, i, 15). Lincoln himself is, then, in De Tocqueville's sense an aristocratic \vriter, even to the point of finding his sources in the past. The man who had had from youth the "peculiar ambition" of being "truly esteemed of my fellow men, by rendering myself worthy of their esteem" (p. 57), could have no quarrel with the fundamental idea of aristocracy. For he was himself an exemplification of Jefferson's conten'tion, set out in his correspondence with Adams (October 28, 1813), that aristocracy and democracy, the rule by the best and the rule by the people, have been made compatible in the United States, that the citizens in free election can and will-as he said, "in geneial/' and as we must say, on occasion-choose from amorig themselves the "natural iiristoi," the best by nature. The Gettysburg Address is the utterance of such an iiristos, a man at the same time excellent in the antique sense and good in the common understanding. l3 �"How Is The Seminar?"* An Exercise in One Particular Hearing and Viewing of the Question I By MICHAEL OSSORGIN The question in the title is inextricably bound up with the particularities of the voices, situations and times that gi,·e rise to it at St. John's. It has, first of all, an immediately practical dimension: "great" texts, many strange ones, ranging widely, have to be read and thought about \Vithin a short span of time; conversation has to go on; and learning ought to be taking place with all members of the seminar. Secondly, the question has also a moral dimension as long as the practices in question are open to praise and blame, passion and reason, misery and happiness, while they begin, proceed and end with particular men and women, students and tutors,t and authors of books, forming one learning community called "seminar." Thirdly and finally, the question acquires a dramatic dimension when, and only when, a course taken by such practices is being viewed in and through the occurring and recurring situations of the seminar: as a whole, in breadth, \vithin a perspective, in depth. This kind of viewing is raised to the level of comprehensive and lasting vision in some works on the seminars' reading list. For instance, it occurs in the staging, the mise en scene of Socrates's conversations by Plato in the Dialogues and by Aristophanes in The Clouds. "The truth * For those unfamiliar with the title of this essay: this question is probably the most frequently heard opening for conversation on the St. John's campuses, among students and Faculty alike. The seminar, it is frequently said, "is the heart of the Program." (Ed.) t Tutor is the title held by all members of St. John's faculty. 1l1cre are no other academic ranks, although there is a tenure system. Through this arrangement the College reduces the diversion of faculty energy from teaching and learning by concern for advancement in rank to a minimum; irrele\'ant obstacles to reason's being the chief authority in discussion, in this \Vay, are also minimized. (Ed.) :j: At St. John's grades are registered in the Dean's Office but not reported to students unless special request is made and special condi· tions warrant such reporting. Instead, at the end of each semester the student meets all his tutors in the "don rag," a consultation between a student and his tutors on all phases of the student's work at the College. The tutors report t0 one of the seminar lCJ.ders on the student's work. Then the student is asked to comment oo the reports and to judge his own work. Rather than reporting marks, the don rag attempts to discorcr and articulate the rcasoJJS for the student's lack of progress, or, more happily, for. his success in understanding. (Ed.) 14 of things staged" is meant to be eyed with the immediacy of involvement, before scholarly detachment, if desirable, could be thoughtfully and meaningfully sustained. Here the poet's eye, as it were, takes precedence over the scholar's eye. Staging both reveals and conceals the artist at work. It reveals a vision, its breadth and its depth, while it conceals the "seer"; it may even conceal something of the vision from an indiscriminate view. The revealings and the concealings seem to be rooted in the artist's practical and moral attitude toward his fellow men, and more deeply, in his attitudes towards what he views as lifegiving and as mortifying, in fact and in conscience. Ultimately and suddenly, if at all, his perspective opens, or opens partially, to the all-pervasive and guiding graces of the sublime and of the humorous. But here one nears something which is at the same time still distant and remote, as throughout Dante's Comedy, and, as with the Comedy, one is always tempted to try to cut it down to SIZe. To come back to our title, the following is an exercise in one particular hearing and viewing of the question. The question is raised perennially at St. John's. Soon after convocation it is usually voiced in relation to the unfamiliarity and to the puzzlements with the folk, ]ores, and books that are beginning to mingle in seminars. Its first or immediately practical phase subsides with the spread of familiarity and habituation. It enters its second, or moral, phase in times of don rags,:): when it is raised more specifically: "How is one's performance in the seminar?" Don rags tend to have a purging effect on a seminar, strengthening its moral fiber. Finally, at the end of the year, the question may enter its third, or dramatic, phase with the producers and the performers of the annually staged skits. The skits tend to distribute punishments Michael Ossorgin, tutor at Santa Fe, has been with St. John's since 1956. A Russian, he was educated at the Lycee Russe, Conservatoire Russe, and Institut de clllCologie Orthodoxe, where he received a L.Th., all in Paris. He was an instructor in theology at St. Tikhon's Seminary, PennsylYania, and later an instructor in music under the auspices of the Bureau of Indian Affairs in Alaska when the College discovered him. He has been deeply involved in studies of the novels of · Dostoevsky. I , �April 1969 and awards, to keep some feelings of failure on edge, and to carrY the \'iewers and the listeners to the brink and the verge 0£ many laughs, and an occasional tear. Throughout the year the question also persists in quiet sorts of \Y3\'S, It keeps imposing itself in difficult seminar situations involving intricate demands of texts, minds, and com'Cfsation. It taunts one to pause and reflect on what is and what is not happening in the seminar, what its possibilities ar.e and ~vhat one's possibilities in it are. At times, such reflections must take a perilous course amidst harsh impediments· to learning that insist on being there. At other times, they mav take an occasio~al flight towards the highest learning possibilities. \Vhatever their course, they tend to proceed from different points of ,·iew with different learners. The angle of one's \'iewing "from a point" may widen or it may narrow. Occa- sionally it may widen enough to gauge the span of one's learning times as it presents itself at various distances to one's fotesigh t and hindsight. It may even widen to gauge a lifetime of genuine learnings. as em- bodied in many a text at St. John's. However, onh· four years arc required bv the College for certification in liberal artistry, and only one \'ear is allotted to a particular seminar; accordingly, one may choose one's angles and one's distances. In some such ways as these, or in others, one may happen to Yie\\' the question in the title and discover that the hidden part of learning m semin~ns thri,·es on that \·cry question. Here I hasten to make a parenthetic remark that, as far as I can see, the program at St. John's does not seem to rest on formulae, or on hunches, not even on utterances from a position. of knowledge, but continues to rest on the acts of its own rediscovery. In these respects the program strangely resembles "the truth of things staged." The other day the question rang in my ears in very peculiar circumstances. I had just finished reading a certain romance of knight errantry, and was plunging into daydreams and hallucinations under its magic spell. The book happened to be the only romance of knight errantry I have ever read: Cervantes's Don Quixote. Of course! Or is it Don Quixote's Cervantes? I am not sure, for I cannot make up my mind once and for all whether "man is the father . . ." or Hthe child of his works," even without the implications of the additional "step:" But to get back to the story, I found myself thrown onto a vast stage in the middle of a play. I did not know where I was in the play, with whom, or what was going on. Yet, I knew somehow that the play had something to do with the life of inquiry. Not being able to stand my predicament, I tried to orient myself on the stage. I recognized its two outstanding landmarks: "the High Cliff of Madness" and "the Abyss of SimpleMindedness." Stretched in between were the broad expanses of the "Tierra Firma." Among the figures moving around, one pair stood out as central to the play, for, between the two of them, they covered the whole magnitude of the stage. I "figured them out" as Don Quixote and Sancho Panza: the knight came down from the High 15 �The College Cliff to transform men and their ways to what they ought to be; his squire came up from the Abyss to rule over them as they happen to be, i.e., "as God made them, and often much worse." 'Two more figures were conspic- uous, for, unlike the rest, they did not move, but stood still, one at each end of the stage, at its exits. They· had been "figured out" by another enchanted reader of Don Quixote in The Diary of his: To some observers all phenomena of life develop with a most touching simplicity and are so intelligible that they are not worth thinking about or even being looked at. However, these same phenomena might embarrass another observer to such an extent that, in the long run, he feels una blc to simplify them, to draw them out into a straight line and thus appease his mind. He then resorts to a different kind of "simplification" and very "simply" plants a bullet in his brain so as to extinguish at once his jaded mind, together with all its queries. Such are the two extremes between which the sum total of human intelligence is enclosed.-Dostoevski The rest of the figures were moving anywhere between the pair at the extremes and around the pair "at the center." I found I was not lost after all, for I began to have some vague notions about the breadth of the stage, and about the range of the characters on it. Still, I sorely lacked some guiding notions about the plot. I knew that it had something to do with the life of inquiry, but I could not ·figure out its beginning, its middle, and its end. There was nothing else for me to do but to get into the act by inquiring around. . To my surprise, the first character I ran across happened to be in the same predicament I was in. The two of us inquired of the third ... ; the story was the same.... By the time the compan)c reached a sizable number, the story was still the same. It was useless to go on like that, yet each hesitated to part from the company of the others, for we had something crucial in common: the predicament and the question. There was a possibility of putting our minds together to see if we could come up with an answer as to what the action of the play might be. Everyone spoke in turn. At the end there was an embarrassment in addition to the predicament: we had ended up with as 16 many answers as there were minds available. We had to pause, reflect, and deliberate .... There was a possibility for each to try to support his opinions with reasons, while making efforts to understand what the others were saying, as they, each in turn, understood it themselves. We began to converse. In a way we made some progress: the embarrassment, which had been added, subsided and a new bond began to emerge. It was a bond of awareness that the various affirmations and denials in and of our opinions craved justification in terms of evidence, and that evidence as such is something that could be seen in common. At times we battled, at other times we conversed in a friendly way. Still, on the whole we were moving back and forth with no end in sight. Again we had to pause, reflect and deliberate.... There was a possibility of moving towards an end: in case of battles, to try to see clearly into the issues involved, "to raise the conflict to the level of rational articulation"; and in case of friendly conversations, to try to raise them to the level of illumination, of insight. Both tasks proved to be extremely difficult to sustain in conversation. Yet, to the extent to which each was trying, "the patterns of his respective affirmations and denials began to change, as his insight into possibility was deepening." And so, to make a long story short, it finally dawned upon us that our conversation was occasionally reflecting the action of the life of inquiry: its beginning, its middle, and even an end. Some began to feel like trying out their roles on the stage at large. . . . But the magic spell of . Don Quixote wore off. . . . I found myself on the campus grounds in "The Land of Enchantment." The buildings stretched between a foothill and an arroyo, with the dormitories at either end, with the classroom buildings and the student activities center in the middle. It was getting dark, the lights went on, and soon various figures began to appear from various · directions, following their converging and diverging paths towards their respective seminars. It was time for me to go, too .... End of the exercise. How is the seminar? The quotations in the exercise are taken from Cervantes, Don Quixote; Dostoevski, The Diary of a \\lriter; and The Dean's Statement of Educational Policy and Program, St. John's College, 1959. (Author) ( I �The College and the Underprivileged By LAURENCE BERNS Longstanding injustices and neglect have deprived too many Americans of the resources ·and opportunities for ad,·anccment shared by most of their countrymen. The greatest sufferers, clearly, have been American Negroes. At St. John's, as throughout the nation in recent times, mam lm·e been moYed to translate their feelings about thesC matters into action. The situation at Santa Fe, where there is almost no 1\:egro population, is different from the one at Annapolis. But there, too, a number of community projects have been undertaken. Under the Community Service and Continuing Ed.ucaiion Program of the Higher Education Act of 1965 a project is in operation with tutor Stuart Boyd as director. Students have been leading seminars at the state mental hospital and at the state prison at Cerillos. A tutoring sen·ice for high school dropouts and near-dropouts was organized by students of the College. Students have been helping in local high schools as teaching assistants. \Ve shall concern ourselves here, however, with activities directed mainly towards the Negro population and, therefore, at Annapolis. At Annapolis, too, students have, on a somewhat occasional basis, tutored pupils at local high schools. During June of 1968 a three-day pilot project under the auspices of the Jack and Jill Foundation of ·washington, D. C., was tried with Negro boys who were scholastic "underachievers.'' Simple readings and a movie, Raisin In The Sun, were discussed in seminar, and some elementary mathematics tutorials were conducted. Baseball and basketball games took place in the afternoons. Tutors Peter Laurence Berns, tutor at St. John's since 1960, receiYed his Ph.D. from the Social Sciences Di\·ision of the University of Chicago. He \Yas a lecturer in the liberal arts nt the UniYersity of Chicago from 19 56 to 19)9. lie has ,nitten the chapter on-Thomas Hobbes, History of Political Philosoph;:, R:md \Ic:;-.;ally, 1963, and a chapter on "Aristotle's Poetics" in Ancients and .\Iodems, Basic Books, 1964. He spent 19661967 on lca,·e of absence as Associate Professor of Philosophy at Rosary College, Ri,·cr Forest, Illinois. lie is currently engaged in a translation of Aristotle's Politics for Bantam Books. Brown and George Doskow were in charge of the project. As a result of this project the Foundation is looking forward to a seven-week program during the summer of 1969 for 100 boys between fifteen and seventeen years old. They will all be seriously behind in their academic work, serious "underachievers"; 50 will be Negroes, 35 SpanishAmericans, and fifteen American Indians. A very simple St. John's curriculum is planned: seminars, mathematics and writing tutorials, and a choice of a class of instruction in reading or a laboratory. The program is to be directed by Leroy Giles, who has been in charge of the Upward Bound program at Howard University. There is some reason to doubt whether the program will materialize: only $20,000 has been raised out of a needed $140,000 (including the cost of student room and board). In the spring of 1968 the Annapolis Faculty resoh·ed to initiate an Annapolis Community Scholarship Fund at St. John's: its primary aim is to provide fees at St. John's for intellectually qualified but economically underprivileged Negroes from Annapolis. Efforts to raise funds for such students have not been as successful as anticipated, although the Honeywell Corporation has promised $400 for each of four years. There has only been one student recipient of such money. This student had applied successfully to the College, but was unable to attend because of lack of funds. She then left town for New Yark and was working in a bakery there when she was informed that funds would be available. (Contributions may be sent to the Fund in care of Julius Rosenberg, Director of Development, at the College.) The Educational Enrichment Program for Annapolis was conceived and developed by teachers at St. John's and the Naval Academy in cooperation with officials at local high schools. The program was initiated in response to the Office of Economic Opportunity's failure to award an Up\\'ard Bound Program to St. John's for the year 1968-69. Its goals were genera]],. those of the national program: in raciaiiy integrated programs, to stimulate the culturally and economically underprivileged towards greater educational achievement. The program at St. 17 �The College John's was directed by tutor Benjamin lv!ilner and carried on by nine tutors on a voluntary basis. The students were mostly in their ninth, tenth, and eleventh years of high school. Twenty-two enrolled and eighteen completed the program. All of those who completed it were Negroes. There were seminars, classes in mathematics, and English composition, and work in the art studio. Mr. Milner informs us, "There were some accomplishments-chiefly of a remedial nature-in English composition and in mathematics. To our disappointment, the seminar (a discussion of short stories, poems, novels, biography, and a movie) never developed as a significant learning experience for more than a few students. Some were too young, and some, while they could read the assigned texts, could not understand them, because of their very limited vocabularies and their not having the habit of using a dictionarY. \Ve learned a lot-about the students, about their ne~ds, and the best way to meet them. For the students, I venture to believe, it was a significant educational experience, although neither they nor we could point to dramatic accomplishments." One question raised by some of these experiences is whether St. John's, because it is framed for liberal education on the highest level, is the appropriate place for helping those who need the most elementary kind of instruction. It is very difficult for those without experience in· the program to realize just how elementary the needed instruction is. The programs are, in effect, stopgap measures to make up for intolerably inadequate elementary school education. Most great books may presuppose too much: yet there may be some exceptions, e.g., Euclid and the Bible, and one tutor reports that his most successful class was a discussion based on Xenophon's Education of Cyrus, book one, chapter three, sections sixteen and seventeen. \Vhat does seem clearly to be transferable is the St. John's tradition of dedicated teaching, and especially the seminar training in dialectic and discussion that has been so successful in getting students to expose and reflect upon what is really going on in their minds, in involving them directly in teaching each other and themselves. The closing exercises of the program on August 9 consisted of refreshments, an exhibition of the students' art work, and the following address by tutor Laurence Berns: You have volunteered to devote six vacation weeks to the improvement of your minds and, we hope, your hearts. We congratulate you for having the good sense to choose to do so, and for having the good heart to stick it out to the end. All animals need food, all ·animals need shelter and almost all animals need families. In this respect man is no different from the other animals. But man is the talking animal and the thinking anin.1al, and when you brir1~ those together, the learning animal. !\Jan is the animal 18 which through learning has the power to modify his feelings, to control his feelings, to improve his feelings, to impros·e his likes and dislikes. This sounds very rosy. It is not so rosy. This great opportunity which Nature, or Nature's God, has opened up for man is a two-edged sword-it can cut one way and it can cut the other way. For man's thinking and talking, his power to learn, makes its way to man's feelings through the force of habit, through the formation of habit, and habits can be good or bad. The sword of learning is a two-edged sword, a dangerous instrument, because it can lead to bad habits as well as good habits. Man is the learning animal, and because of this even when he does the things all animals do-eat, seek shelter and have families-he does it with ·a difference: man can't just do things the other animals do, he's got to do them with style. \Ve always watch each other's styleto see whether it's good style or bad. A man or a woman's style points to what he or she has learned. What I'm pointing to is that no man can help learning. It's what . he learns that counts: he can Jearn to spoil his feelings, to corrupt his feelings, to make his likes and dislikes worse as well as to make them better. In fact, it's probably easier to do that than to make them better. If you don't put your mind to work at forming good habits, it's likely that, whether you know it or not, it will be working to form bad ones. Forming good habits, I believe, is what the business of education is chiefly about. \Ve must continually search for those teachers and those books which can guide our learning power towards improving ourselves, which can teach us how to be strong and sensitive, courageous, tender and thoughtful all at the same time. The best teachers (and this refers to books, too) are the ones that teach us and move us to become our own· teachers, to become thoughtful critics of ourselves, that arouse in us the habit of constructive thoughtfulness. The best teachers and the best books make us aware of how much we Jose when we waste our time. There are some who think that the most important thing about a man is the size of his bankroll, or the sharpness of his clothes, or the size of his muscles, or the color of his skin. No matter how many of them there are, and there are a lot oi them, they are very superficial people. What counts is the quality of a man's mind and heart, what he does and has done with his power to learn. I should like to end this talk with some words from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., from his book Strength to Love: May I offer a special word to our young people .... Many of y.ou are in college and many more in high school. I cannot overemphasize the importance of these years of study. You must realize that doors of opportunity are opening now that were not opened to your mothers and fathers. The great challenge you face is to be ready to enter these doors. �NEWS .ON THE CAMPUSES does not wish his name disclosed. likes to be known as "T. K.," transThe Western Consolidation Cam- ferred to Annapolis from Santa Fe and Richard Ferrier, a junior from Oak- paign constitutes the second of three found herself involved in the junior land, California, appeared with four phases in Santa Fe's "Decade of Devel- seminar program almost immediately. students from Bennington College in opment," 1964-1974. About $5,445,000 \Vorking with her are Bonnie \Velch Vermont on Philadelphia's vVFIL-TV was received in the initial period of and Dolores Strickland, Class of 1971, on January 21st. The program, entitled 1964-1968. The College will seek Marvin Cooper, Class of 1970, and J<On Camera," specializes in controver- $7,200,000 during 1968-1971, a total Tom Geyer, Class of 1969. sial subjects. Every day one of five news for the decade of $16,541,000, which T. K. states the program does take columnists in the Philadelphia metro· is committed to the firm establishment a great deal of time. "We have planpolitan area has a day "on camera" of the St. John's idea in the west. ning sessions where we decide upon the interviewing guests and discussing all Urging support for the current cam- readings to be covered. Before the semkinds of topics. paign, an editorial in the Santa Fe inar we decide upon a question broad The columnist and questioner for New Mexican said that growth and enough to encompass the whole work the Tuesday program was Otto Dekom, recognition for a new college often read, and after the class we meet to critic-at-large for the \Vilmington, Del- come slowly. "We are pleased to note, evaluate the day's work." She adds, aware, News-Journal. The students therefore, that as St. John's in Santa with a smile, that having found herself were asked .about the contrasting cur- Fe moves into its fifth year of life, it in that position, she can understand the riculum• and differing aims of each shows the potential for achieving the role of a tutor better now. college, both of which grant Bachelor kind of local and national significance The seminar students come from of Arts degrees. its many godparents had hoped for at varied races and economic backgrounds. the christening in 1964." The editorial "Each student has something valuable cited the growth in enrollment, support to offer," T. K. reports, "no matter Goals Set for Western by Board members and others in the what his background, and each should Consolidation Campaign . West, participation of students in com- present his ideas as they relate to him. The \Vestern Consolidation Cam· paign Committee has announced Santa munity service projects, initiation of the The students get to hear other inter· Fe's financial goals for the three-year summer Graduate Institute of Liberal pretations of life besides their own." Recently St. John's student polity period ending June 30, 1971. The cam-. Education, and the construction of attractive and useful buildings. donated $50 towards the purchase of paign will seek to raise a total of books for the program. The children $3,896,000 for endowment ($2,000,read and discuss classics such as Aesop's 000), a physical education building Annapolis Students Conduct Fables, Milne's \Vinnie-The-Pooh, and ($1,000,000), annual operating budgets Seminars at Elementary Scho.ol ($693,000), and debt retirement ($203,· Five Annapolis students have been Carroll's Alice in \Vonderland. 000). The Committee is headed by conducting weekly junior "Great Tom L. Popejoy of Albuquerque, re- Books" seminars at Adams Park, a local Two Santa Fe Grads Write "Memos cently retired president of the Univer- elementary school within walking dis- for the New President" sity of New Mexico. tance of the campus. The school counTwo members of the Class of 1968 selor, Mrs. Sarra Shockley, requested at Santa Fe are involved in research At the same time that this campaign was announced, President Richard D. the participation of St. John's students projects at the Center for the Study of Weigle disclosed St. John's College in for the project which is similar to one Democratic Institutions at Santa BarSanta Fe had received almost $2.5 mil- carried on once before by students who bara, California. The appointments of lion from members of the Board of have since graduated. Over thirty stu- Kenneth L. Kronberg and Philip P. Visitors and Governors in less than dents from the fifth and sixth grades Chandler II as Junior Fellows were an· three and a half years. These donations were chosen bv their teachers for inclu- nounced by Center President Robert were prompted by a challenge gift of sion in the exPeriment. i\l. Hutchins. Center Fellows include $400,000 from a Board member who r~oni Karen Thomas, a junior who Stringfellow Barr, former president of Annapolis Junior Appears on WFIL· TV in Philadelphia 19 �The College St. John's College. Hutchins said Chandler is assisting in studies on a world constitution and on restoring modern mathematics to the status of a liberal art. Kronberg is working on "Creating the Future"-a project involving "revolutionary devel- opment in technologically advanced nations." Douglas Allanbrook Composes and Performs Douglas Allanbrook's 4 OrclJeslrai Landscapes-Symphony No. 3 was given its premier performance by the Oakland Symphony Orchestra in Berkeley, California, in the spring of 1968. Mr. Allanbrook, St. John's tutor and composer, whose works have been widely performed both in this country and in Europe, gave a harpsichord concert in St. Anne's Episcopal Church in Annapolis, on January 19th. He performed works by Couperin, J. S. Bach, and Rameau on the College's new harpsichord. The harpsichord was built by William Dowd of Boston, and modeled on an instrument made by Tasguin in France during the eighteenth century. The Presser Foundation of Philadelphia contributed towards the acquisition of the instrument. Famed harpsichordist Ralph Kirkpatrick, Professor of Music at Yale University, gave the dedication concert on the instrument on November 1st in Francis Scott Key Auditorium. The January, 1969, issue of the Center Magazine featured a section called "i\lemos for the New President," written by members of the Center, including Chandler, Kronberg, and Barr. The two graduates called for a national review of the role of higher education. "The problem centers around education, of which the university offers both too much and too little," Kronberg \\Tites, "-too much to allow students to remain totally ignorant of the world, not enough to satisfy the opened Pandora's box of intellectual curiosity coupled with personal commitment." Chandler writes, "The generation gap. is not a natural phenomenon; rather, the rites of passage have been Library Activities Make Friends lost. Traditionally, the initial exposure for St. John's to the liberal arts constitutes the transAn active and creative Friends of formation of children into free men. the Library Committee has set up seve "Reformation of the University era! programs to bring Santa Fe resiawaits the renaissance of 'the liberal dents and authors together and to college; the solution to the generation arouse friendly interest in St. John's gap requires a renewed faith in the College. potentials of human life," he concludes. Three book-author luncheons are Stringfellow Barr in his "me,;,o" scheduled to be held at Santa Fe's asked the new President to set a higher famous hotel, La Fonda, from March cultural tone for this nation. to May. At each luncheon three writers "Mav·be the best way to raise the will discuss contemporary literature cultural tone of the naiion is to inte- and its production. Dates set by the grate politics and art. You might, for Committee are March 14th, Aprilllth, example, submit the speeches your and May 9th. Participating Santa Fe ghost-writers will be putting together authors are to include John Creasey, to a decent poet in order to make them Jack Shaefer, Richard Stern, Dorothy refer, as Lincoln's Gettysburg Address Hughes, Richard Bradford, Charles referred, not only to the matter at Bell, and Donald Hamilton, with hand but also those few matters always others to be named later. at hand." The Committee sponsored another Finallv, Barr urged that Americans popular cvcnt-"A Sampling of the be challenged by the "hard objectives Poets' Roundup"-last October as a mentioned in the preamble of the old- benefit for the Library. This was a nosest written constitution in the world- talgic revival of the Poets' Roundup ours." held regularly in Santa Fe during the 20 thirties when local writers gathered to read their works to each other and friends. Mrs. Edgar L. Rossin, chairman of the committee planning the event, is the daughter of the founder of the original Roundup, the late Alice Corbin. The Library received a number of generous gifts of books and money from friends of the College this year, including nearly 400 books last fall from John Dodds of New York. Dodds, a former resident of Santa Fe, is a member of the College's Board of Visitors and Governors. He and his wife, actress Vivian Vance, helped plan commencement week activities for the first graduation last year. Graduate Institute Plans Third Summer Program The summer Graduate Institute in Liberal Education will hold its third session at St. John's in Santa Fe, June 23rd to August 15th. Conducted by members of the Faculty from both campuses, the Institute offers to members of the teaching profession, and others who are qualified, the opportunity to pursue a carefully planned program in the liberal arts, based primarily on the study and discussion of important works of Western thought. The Institute was started in the summer of 1967 with a program on Politics and Society. Two other subject-areas were offered in 1968-Literature, and Philosophy and Theology. Mathematics and Natural Science will be added this summer to complete the four-part program. Students earn nine hours of graduate credit in eight weeks, approved for teacher certification by the New Mexico State Board of Education. Those who complete all four summer programs successfully, or three summers at St. John's plus nine hours of graduate credit from another institution, will earn a Master of Arts in Liberal Education from the Institute. The first degree will be awarded this year. The academic program consists of seminars, tutorials, preceptorials, and, with the introduction of the 1\'lathematics and Natural Science program, laboratories. �April 1969 GATHER!~G-Si;.; members of the Board of Visitors and Governors gather during a reception jn the lobby of Key Auditorium on Friday, March ith. They arc, left to right, Myron L. Wolbarsht, Cla~s of 1950, professor of ophthalmology, Duke University, Durham, N. C.; John D. Oosterhout, Class of 1951. :mistant branch chief of the Tracking DiYision, NASA Goddard Flight Center, Greenbelt, Md.; Fr~nk Appleton, Elgin He-reford Ranch, Elgin, Ariz.; Emmanuel Schifani (Lt. Gen. Ret.), Springer Corp., Albuquerque, N. M.; Louis T. Rader, \'ice president and general manager, Industrial Process Control Di\·ision, General Electric Co., Charlottcs\·ille, Va.; and Martin H. Dubilicr, president and chief executive officer, Kearney-Na.tional, Inc., New York, N. Y. Wolbarsht and Oosterhout are Alumni Representatives on the Board. (Courtesy of Lee Troutner/The EveJJing Cap_ital) The Institute's first director was Robert A. Goldwin, an Annapolis alumnus. The current director is Elliott Zuckerman, an Annapolis tutor. Applicants for admission must have a Baclielor's degree from an accredited institution or the equivalent in study and experience. Although the curriculum is designed primarily for teachers, applications are invited from others. Decisions on admittance are made by the Admissions Committee of the Faculty. Students who plan to receive their ]\Jaster's degree from another institution are advised to consult that institution before enrolling at St. John's. Fees have been kept low thanks to underwriting from the Carnegie Corporation. Twelve teachers from inner~ citv schools in Baltimore have attended with fellowships granted under the auspices of the Hoffberger Foundation. Ten teachers from \Vashington, D. C., inncr-citv schools have also attended under scholarships, six of which were granted bv the Cafritz Foundation. There were 91 students enrolled in the progr~m bst summer, with eight tutors from Annapolis and five from Santa Fe teaching the eight-week cur- riculum. All those who have been connected with the Institute have been gratified beyond expectation by the enthusiasm, seriousness, and dedication with which these older students have em braced the Program. Representative comments during first summer don rags were, "\Vhy didn't we hear about these books before!" and "Everyone talks about it, but you people really are concerned with what students are thinking about." More about the Graduate Institute will appear in a future issue of The College. All inquiries regarding applications and fees should be sent to the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education, St. John's College, Santa Fe, New Mexico 87501. Faculty and Staff Make OffCampus Visits Several members of the Annapolis Faculty and staff visited off-campus this past year. Dean john S. Kieffer, Assistant Dean Robert Spaeth, and tutor Hugh P. McGrath travelled to i\lacalester College in St. Paul, Minnesota, at the end of. October. Joining them were John Steadman and Elliot Skinner from the Santa Fe campus. The dean and four tutors were returning a visit the Faculty of Macalester paid to St. John's in the college term year 1966-1967. Discussions were held comparing the ways in which the two schools conceive of and try to fulfill the aims of liberal education. Among the topics discussed was the impact and potential impact of liberal education on today's world. Edward M. Godschalk, Assistant Director of Admission on the Annapolis campus, travelled to MinneapolisSt. Paul in early November, Milwaukee in late November, Chicago in early December, and Pittsburgh in early February visiting public and private high schools. He also arranged showings and question periods about our 16 mm. film, entitled "St. John's College," filmed without a script and without rehearsal, which describes St. john's and its aims. Tutor emeritus Ford K. Brown was in New York City for a social hour and organizational meeting of the New York alumni chapter on February 5th. Thomas Farran, Jr., Director. of Alumni Activities, and Darrell L. Henry, President of the Alumni Association, accompanied him. They also attended the February 21st alumni reception and dinner in Philadelphia. Students Endorse Program at St. John's Students on the Annapolis campus responded with a whole-hearted endorsement of the College in a survey taken in October of last year. According to Director of Admissions James M. Tolbert, a random sample of students was asked about the success of the college program and life at the school. The survey, entitled "Questionnaire on Students and College Characteristics," was prepared by the Educational Testing Service in Princeton, New jersey. One set of answers indicated that 87 percent of the students were more concerned with academic life than with social activities. Ninety-four percent thought the 'faculty-student relation- 21 �The College ships were close and informal, and 98 percent declared a majority of the faculty seem genuinely interested in teaching. In addition, the students said, the College has excellent library resources, and it sponsors a rich cultural program, attracting nationally known scholars to address students and faculty. One section of the questionnaire co.ncerned classroom activity and fac- ulty-student relationships. Ninety-four percent of the students stated that the tutors challenged them; 95 percent belie,·ccl that the studentS arc encouraged to think for themsel\'Cs. Kinety percent of the students thought there was a great amount of contact with the facult\' outside the classroom, with the tutors. treating the students as indiYiduals. The questionnaire also showed that the students were rather fully involved in intramural athletics, recreation-outing activities, dramatic productions, dating and social life (79 percent). Eighty-nine percent expected to continue their education into graduate or professional schools. Eighty-six percent were satisfied with the College's assistance in moving them towards their ultimate educational goals. The greatest endorsement' of the College was found in the response of 97 percent that they would recommend the College to like-minded high school seniors. The students were given the opportunity to write comments on the reYerse side of the answer sheet. i\lany students wrote further descriptions of the College, its program, and life on campus. One student commented that St. John's "is committed to the active use of reason by its members." It encourages ((education, not instruction," wrote another. Students warned that those who are much interested in social life should look elsewhere for a college education because St. John's is highly academic and intellectually inclined, with a difficult curriculum. TheY further encouraged those who do not know the College to obtain a catalogue and to visit the campus. "St. 22 ings and Santa Fe." "I like the life of the seminar-conversation which seeks to be meaningful." "Although this is a good learning situation, with good tutors and small classes, I feel that the books themselves are what makes the school what it is." "The seminar transforms what might College Entrance Examination Board otherwise be dry, distant classics into for students in secondary schools. living masterpieces of human experience. You have to work hard to have a Freshmen Tell Why They Like dull seminar." the St. John's Program "The serious student will find it Several Santa Fe freshmen were close to impossible to run out of interasked recently to comment on the St. John's academic program after their esting things to think about in the first few months on the Santa Fe cam- St. John's program." "The thing that is most enjoyable pus. Their remarks included: about St. John's for me is the people. "I think ... that the part I like best For the first time in my life I have here is the atmosphere, where a person found people who like to really talk who thinks seriously is not regarded as about things. Tutors and students alike a freak, as is often the case elsewhere." are willing to sit down and thrash out "Vv'hether putting a Euclidean proof a question with me, no matter how on the board, breaking down the gram- long it may take, or what subject it may mar of a Greek sentence, or discussing be. That's what happiness is." a play bY Sophocles, the instructor doesn't ask one to accept but to ques- Chess Tournament Held on tion." · Annapolis Campus "St. John's is not perfect, but it is The first annual Great Books Open one of the best schools there is. I do Chess Tournament was held in the nw work to learn, not for a grade, and Baldwin Room of Campbell Hall Jangrades can be an awful pressure. My uary 24th through January 26th on the main interests have always been in Annapolis campus. The tournament English and languages, but lab has was sponsored by the United States' opened up something totally new for Chess Federation and the District of John's is like no other," one enthusias- tic student concluded. rdr. Tolbert said results of the questionnaire were compiled by the Educational Testing Service and will constitute part of the description of St. John's in The College Handbook, an informational manual prepared by the me." "The personal validity of the work here tastes very good. 11 u . . . the intense discussion and learning in such a casual atmosphere bring student and tutor together, not so much as the teacher and the taught, but as equal partners in the task of learning." "To be honest, I could not say St. John's is for cyeryone, only for those individuals willing to discuss ideas, not merely memorize them." "I have discovered through discussion not only a latent ability to speak, lost in hum-drum, lecture-type classes, but also an ability to write." "The setting of the school is an obvious advantage: natural surround- Columbia Chess League. The successful meet was organized by St. John's students. First place prize money of $125 was shared by three out-of-state winners, Carl Sloan of Alexandria, Va.; William Gary, Jr., Charlottesville, Va.; and Pedro Saavedra of the Math Department of the University of Virginia, Charlottesville, Va. Three St. John's students as well as three United States Naval Academy midshipmen participated in the tournament. Of the eighteen entrants, Marvin Cooper ('70) and Alan Plutzik ('71) placed fifth and sixth respectively, only one-half point behind the winners. BQb Dunleavy, a freshman at St. John's, also participated. �ALUMNI ACTIVITIES Dinner Honors Medical Men The annual iiiid-\\'intcr Dinner of the .-\lumni Association. held this \Tar on :\larch 15th, paid tribute to tlwse alumni in the medical profession. Dr. Thomas Boumc Turner of the Class of 1921 was asked to represent the other doctor-alumni in rcceiYing special recognition from the Association. Thi~ ,-Car's mid-\~·intcr fete was de- signed c.llong lines somewhat different from tho~c followed in earlier \'ears. The Dinner Committee, heacle~l by Echard \\'ebb,- '63, was aware of past critici~m that there should be more to the Dinner th~m just a meaL Conse- quently a fu11-sct.~h: dinner-dance was arranged at the Barn in Glen Burnie. 'rllC'rc ·,yas an open bar both before and after the meal, a roast beef dinner, and dancing to li\'c music until 1 a.m. As this goes to the printer, some \Veeks before the C\"Cnt, prospects pointed towards a good turn-out of alumni and guests. - Dr. Turner, now dean emeritus and professor of microbiology at the Johns Hopkins UniYersitY School of Medicine, first came to St. John's as a sub- fre~hman in the Preparatory SchooL lie graduated from the College in 1921 and entered the Unisnsih· of i\ Ian·hncl \ledical SchooL ln 1925 the ne;,. doctor started an internship at the Hospital for the IV omen of i\ lardand, and the following rear was a resident at \lerC\ Ilospital. From 1927 to 1929 he held <1 fello\\·ship in medicine at the Hopkins School of :\ledicine, and was later an instructor and tl1cn an associate in medicine. Dr. 'I 'urncr clCJXlrtccl temporarily from the academic world in 1932, \Yhcn he bcc;nnc <l staff member of the Intcrmtion<Jl Ile<1lth Di,·ision of the Rockefeller Foundation. In 1939 he was ~p- pointed professor of bacteriology and director of the Department of Bactcriolog\·, Johns Hopkins Uni,·ersity School of HYgiene and Public Health. Except for a .four-year tour in the Office of the Surgeon General, U. S. Army, during \Vorld \Var II, Dr. Turner remained at the Hopkins until his retirement in 1968. He became dean of the medical faculty in 19 57, Dr. '1'urner sen'es on the advisory committee on medical research of the \Vorld Health Organization, as well as on the national advisory council of the National Institutes of Health. He is a past president of the Association of American Medical Colleges, and a fellow of the American Public Health Association. Although busy professionally, Dr. Turner has found time to sen·e as both secretarv and chairman of the Board of Visitors and Governors of the College. Gone But Not The Alumni newsletter about St. John's, just two years old in illarch, has gone the way of the Saturday Evening Post, Colliers, and other publications which used to be. This section of The College will no\\· sef\·e as the principal conveyor of ne\VS for and about alumni. It might be well to remind our readers of our unappeased appetite for news; with material for only slightly over a page of Class Notes, for example, we arc on a very meager diet! Things arc happening to each of you, or you arc causing things to happen. Yonr classmates and friends rea11\' would like to hear about them. So, \Vhen you do something noteworthy, or something noteworthy happens to yo.u, ]d ns in on the good news. Regional Chapters Regional alumni committees or chapters, key elements in most alumni organizations, have never held that position in the Alumni Association of St. John's College. The chapter concept is not a new one, hO\vever, and at times in the past there have been active groups of alumni in a number of cities. For whatever reasons, these chapters have become quiescent over the years; today, only about two meet even once a year. Interest in regional chapters has been renewed since last October, when Darrell L, Henry took over the reins of the Association. Mr. Henn' belieYes that one way to a strong arid lasting relationship behveen alumnus and College is the extension of the College community beyond the campus limits. To take the College into the home areas of the alumni requires a local organization with which the Association and the College can work. This is where the regional alumni chapter fits in to the picture. Initially, four centers of alumni population were selected for special attention: New York City, Philadelphia, San Francisco, and Los Angeles. The last three of these have had chapters in the past, so New York was the only truly new area. AppropriatelY enough, the first general meeting took place in that city. On Februarv 5th about 65 alumni and guests mtt in a Second Avenue restaurant. Francis :t\'lason '43, Ste,·e Benedict '-17, and Ralph Herrod '50 headed an ad hoc committee for the affair. Ford K. Brown, inYitcd specifically for the occasion, delighted e\·en·one "·ith his commentarv on the College as viewed by a tuto~ emeritus. The next regional meeting took place 23 �The College all the \\'3\' across country irl San Francisco on ·February I 6tl;. Under the guidance of i\Iorrow and Carol Otis '64-, a dinner for some seventeen alumni, spouses, and parents was arranged. '"J 'om Parran reported briefly on affairs at the College, and on the general plans for renewing actiYity in alumni chapters. As in :t\'c\\' York, the high pcrcc.:ntagc of younger alumni promised well for the future. FebruarY was apparently a popular month for alumni meetings. In Philadelphia the old Delaware \'alley chap- ter assembled 60 strong on February 21st. Baker J\liddclton '38 and Victor Schwartz '61, with assistance from Eel Dws-cr '30 and others, put together _this fine affair. President \ V cigle, Ford K. Brown, and Darrell Henry represented the College and the Asso- ciation. :\fter the preliminary organiza tiona] phase, it is hoped that regional groups sYill des·ote their attention to specific programs. or projects. Seminars, panel discussions, talks bv tutors or staff offi- cers, and social cv~nts have been sug- gested. \ Vhile the Association and the College will lend all possible support, regional groups must decide for them, sels·cs what they want to do. King William Associates This year a special category of alumni donors has been established. An,· alumnus who contributes $100-or mo-re for current unrestricted purposes is enrolled in the King \Villiam Associates. Established primarily to recognize those alumni who support St. John's in a special way, the new designation aho emphasizes the importance of the unrestricted gift as the principal form of alumni gi\'ing. BY FebruarY 21st eighteen alumni froni a.s man\· cbsses ha,·c been en~ rolled <lS charter members of the Assoc-i~1tes. Before the end of the Cap1paign many more ,,-jJl ha\T joined. \\'hy not <lclcl Your name to the rolls? The first eighteen King \\'i~liam 1\"ociatcs arc: Rickml H. Jloclgson '06, Benjamin Michaelson '12, Care,· Jarman '17, Robert A. Bier '19, Milto;, G. Baker '21, W. Royce Hodges '26, G. Newton Scatchard '30, Vbdimir F. Ctibor '32, Stanley J. Bartis '33, Dalton C..!. \Velty '35, Samuel H. Desch '36, Paul R. Comegys '41, Haven E. Simmons '-14, John J. Lobell '46, Thomas G. Fromme ')0, Jac Holzman '52, and Arthur Kunglc, Jr. '67. Help Wanted Completed Alumni History Questionnaires arc rather important for the Alumni Office. Manv of those mailed to alumni last summer ha\'e not found their wav back. Ii sou has·e not filled in yours,_, please do -so and return it to us. How's Your Memory? Can anyone identify the alumni in the hack-cm-er picture? There are a number of old photographs like this in the Alumni Office. Every now and then we will reproduce one, and ask for sour help. \Ve would like to hear from you old-timers. essential to a successful reunion program. Some of the earlier classes may have had a more complete organization, but almost all classes have had at least a secretary. In some classes we will have to find replacements, and may even have to draft a volunteer or twO. For this coming October, then, we should like to invite classes of '09, '19, '29, '39, '44, '49, '59, and '64 to make a particular effort to be with us. Final arrangements for Homecoming must still be made, but it is quite likely that the dedication of the "new" Library building will be held at that time. " 'e shall be in touch with the classes mentioned above in the months ahead. Plan now to come to Annapolis on October 18th. CLASS NOTES 1872 Dr. James D:n,ison lglelmrt in February was inducted posthumously into the Lacrosse Hall of Fame. Dr. Iglehart, the father of lacrosse in 1\hryland, is credited with bringing the sport to the Baltimore area. The first game in Baltimore was played on Nm·ember 23, 18i8. 1910 !vir. & Mrs. Newton B. CoJiinson celebrated their 50th \vedding anniversmy in November. Class Reunions Comments recently recei\'ed by your Alumni Director indicate considerable interest in class reunions. This is a welcome turn of events, and will be supported ii1 every way possible. Two things can be done immcdia te1y: we can set up a specific schedule for foimal reunions, and we can activate or reacti,·ate class secretaries. :For the schedule, we propose that each class hold a formal reunion on the 5th, lOth, 20th, 25th, 30th, 40th, etc., anniversaries of the graduation of that class. Vv c suggest that a logical time for these gatherings would be at Homecoming each fall, and that the reunions be held on campus, or at least in Annapolis. (Santa Fe alumni in 1973 maY, of course, want to haYC their 5th reu-nion in Santa Fe.) Class secretaries provide a point of contact with the classes, and arc thus 1913 John \\filson was inducted posthumously into the l\laryland Athletic Hall of Fnme in December. An outstanding football player and coach at St. John's, J\1r. \Vilson also coached at the NaYa] Academy for many years. 1918 Clvdc E. Bourke and 1'-Ars. Charles H. Aml;rson were married on December 23, 1968, in ]n·ington, N. Y. The Bourkes make their home in Annapolis. 1921 Luther S. TaJJ joined radio station \\').L\RFl\1 {Baltimore) as an account executi\·e last fall. Mr. Tall hncl earlier retired from positions ,,·ith \\'. IT. Lomeyer, ]nc., and Payne and l\1crrill, Inc. lie is a former president of the :\]umni As~ociation. 1922 Richncl T. Porter, noted basch:1ll pbyer at St. John's. and bter with the R1ltimore Orioles and the Cle,-c1and Indians, was inducted into the ?\lnn-hmd Athletic llall of Fame in December. -1\Ir. Porter now makes his lwme in Drexel -llill, Pa. I I I 1 _,_.t' �April 1969 1932 :\nothcr St. Johnnie now in the Lacrosse Hall of Fame is Philip L. Lotz, now practicing law in Staunton, Va. !\Ir. Lotz joins his brother Ed11·in, who was admitted to the Hall in 196i. As undergraduates they formed the backbone of the defense when St. John's played Canada in the 1931 Lally Cup series. Phil Lotz was named captain of the :\11Timc All-American Lacrosse Team in 1932. 1936 Samuel H. Desch, former executive ,·icc president ·and a director of the Pepsi-Cob Co., recently. \\'35 appointed president of the Dairy and Scn·iccs Di,·ision of Borden, Inc. :i\Ir. Desch was elected to the Board of Visitors and Gm-crnors of the College at I Iomecoming last October. 1938 Thonws E. Smith was recently promoted to lieutenant-colonel in the ::--.Iarybnd State Police. Col. Smith is now chief of operations, second highest position on the force. 1939 James R . .1\IcQueen, Jr., president of the Trojan Bmt Co., and president of the Na· tioml Association of Engine and Boat :..1anubcturcrs, opened the 59th National Boat Show in ::\ew York on January 25th. Dr. Francis J. Tmmsend, Jr., is one of a group of interested citizens seeking to build and staff a ycaHound emergency treatment center in Ocean City, l\Id. 1942 Albert A. Poppiti, until January 7th the Commissioner of Public Safety of \:Vilmington, Del., recently addressed the Maryland ·Coyernor's Conference on Fire Pre\·ention. l\-h. Poppiti's topic was "Firefighting Problems during CiYil Disturbances:" 1943 Francis S. Mason, Jr., last fall assumed duties as assist;mt to the president of Steuben Glass in New York City. 1944 Jr., was recently pro· mated to assistant professor of science ·at the U.S. Na\'al Academy. Joseph F. Hollywood, 1947 I. \Vendall Marine, a represcntati\·e of the U.S. Geological Sur\'ey ~tationccl at the Atomic Energy Commission's Sa\·annah Ri\'er (Ga.) plant, was recently m\·;mlcd a Certificate of Apprccintion by the Commission. Dr. J\brine's ~rca of primary concern has heen the longttml storage of mdimcti\·c wnstc mnterials. 1951 John F. Horne, Jr., recently joined the faculty of ;\nne Arundel (:\1d.) Community Colkgc. 1-Ic ,,·ill teach n new comse in Afro.-\mcrican culture. Earlier. l'vir. Horne was social studies ad\'isor to Harvard University's Nigerian Project for two years. 1956 E,·erett H. \XIiJson is an assistant professor at the UniYcrsity of Maryland School of Social \\'ark. 1958 Christina (Sopher) Neuman graduated from Pomona College last June, cum laude and Phi Beta Kappa. She is now working toward an J\L-\. degree in German nt the University of Californi~ in Riverside. 1960 Cnptain George B. Jones, III, a member of the U. S. Army for seven years, is a helicopter pilot stationed in Savannah, Ga. 1962 Barry L. Fisher, currently on a surgical residency at Cedars-Sinai J'vfedical Center in Los Angeles, plans a further residency in pediatric surgery on the Enst Coast starting in 1971. Dr. Fisher receiYed his medical degree from Albert Einstein College of l\ledicine ( 1966), and interned at Einstein College Hospital. He and his wife, the former Irene Katz, were mar· ried in 1966, and have a son, Scott Robert, born last I\ lay, \Villiam R. Salisbury and Diana Curns were married in December in Kronberg, Germany. :\Ir. Salisbury is a Foreign Service Officer at the .-\mericnn Consulate, Frankfort·am-Ma.in. 1963 Alan Dorfman is now an instructor in mathematics at Catonsville (Md.) Community College. He holds a master's degree from Johns Hopkins Uni\'ersity. Robert K. Thomas and Rosemary Jierjian were married in December in Beirut, Lebanon. Mr. Thomns is with the USIA in Lebanon, 1964 A welcome letter from Jere my Leven brings us up to date on his many activities. In addition to founding, writing, producing, and directing The Proposition (see November newsletter), he spent four months in Europe last summer. In Florence he met Linda Forte, \\·hom he married in December. He is no\V starting a professional theater in Cmnbridge {!\lass.), and in his spare time has been travelling and lecturing in connection \Yith his research at Han·ard. There he leads a team deYeloping nn cducntional system for the year 2000. It's now Cnptain Ke\'in J. \\Iitty, U. S. Army. Cnpt. \Vitty, an instructor in the Engineer School at Ft. Beh·oir, Va., was promoted last fall. 1966 The engagement of Alexis clu Pont Valk and Cynthia Zm·ckas of Joplin, Mo.. was nn: nounced on December 1St. :\Iiss Zuvekas is a graduate of Ball Stnte UniYersity, while Mr . Valk is now studying at the New England Conservatory of Music in Boston. Michael D. Weaver has received an assistantship and tuition scholarship in philosophy at the Uni\'ersity of Cincinnati. 1967 Ga}' Diane Singer and Joseph P. Barrata '69 were married last June. The couple is living in Annapolis while Mr. Barrata completes his senior year. 1968 Santa Fe graduates Philip P. Chandler III and Kenneth L. Kronberg, now junior fellows at the Center for the Study of Democratic Institutions, recently were in the news (see news from Santa Fe elsewhere in this issue). Eren P. Jacobson is college representative in the eastern Great Lakes area for Dodd, Mead & Co. \Villiam R. Owens (SF) and Nancy Anne \\food SF 'il were married in Albuquerque on January 3rd. Gilbert Rcnaut is now teaching mathematics at Edmondson High School in Baltimore. Ruth Ann (Nelson) Hiltebeitel writes that she received her A.B. degree from Brown last June, with n major in e:\:perimental psychology. She lives with her husband and baby daughter in Winnepeg, Canada. In Memoriam 1904-R. TuNIS STRANGE, ·Annapolis, Md., December 10, 1968. 1906-GEORGE DoN RILEY, Baltimore, Md .• November 14,1968. JoHN B. WELLS, Annapolis, Md., January 4, 1969. -l-9BB==-LEWIN VlETHERED BARROLL, Baltimore, Md .• February 2, 1969. 1910-CHARLES A. MuLLIKIN, more, Md., Febrmry 8, 1969. Balti- 1923-H. B. R. RoBERTS, Salisbury, Md., March 4. 1969. 1925-CHARLES \:V. WHAYLAND, Annapolis, Md .• February 24. 1969. -193 3-DR. LINCOLN J. MAGEE, Winchendon, Mass., December 8, 1968. 1934-DR. EuGENE J. River, Mass., 1968. DIONNE, Fall 1935-LAwRENCE J. O'CoNNOR, Linthicum Heights, Md., January 29, 1969. _ 1940-JonN E. DuFFY, Annapolis, Md., No\'ember 19, 1968. 1944-HARRISON SAsscER, Che\'y Chase, Md., January 19. 1969. · 1966-C. PHILIP AcKERMAN, New York City, Dccemb~r 8, 1968. �� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The College </em>(1969-1981) Description An account of the resource St. John's College's Office of the Dean published <em>The College</em> from 1969 to 1981. The publication superseded <em><a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/37" title="The Bulletin of St. John's College">The Bulletin of St. John's College</a></em>.  <em>The College</em> was in turn continued by <a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/13" title="The St. John's Review"><em>The St. John's Review</em></a> in 1981.  <br /><br />A separate magazine for St. John's alumni titled <em>The College </em>began publication in 2001, continuing <em>The St. John's Reporter</em>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The College" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=12">Items in the The College Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource 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 Santa Fe, NM Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thecollegemagazine 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. 24 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Development Offices of St. John's College Title A name given to the resource The College, April 1969 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1969-04 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Berns, Laurence Felter, Mary P. Parran, Jr., Thomas Trimmer, Maurice Tolbert, James M. Sullivan, Daniel Description An account of the resource Volume X[X]I, Number 1 of The College. Published in April 1969. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context The_College_Vol_21_No_1_1969 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 The College https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/68d34f3e8731847aea4d83d709f6fd17.pdf c07c5acc330797ce39a88cc66000959c PDF Text Text �The College Cover: Portrait of Newton by Kneller. \Ve should like to invite tutors, alumni, and students to submit articles for publication by The College. Articles on any subject which would be of interest to the College community and which would be representative of the life of the mind of the College will be considered. Mindful of St. John's tradition and Socrates's suggestion in The Phaedrus that what every good speech or writing most deserves is a question period, we should like to begin a new feature, entitled "Question Period," which would contain questions or criticisms of what- ever we have published and answers from their authors. (Ed.) Editor: Laurence Berns Managing Editor: Mary P. Felter Alumni Editor: Thomas Farran, Jr. Editorial Assistant: Maurice Trimmer Art Editor: Daniel Sullivan The College is published by the Development Offices of St. John's College in Annapolis, Md. (Julius Rosenberg, Director) and Santa Fe, N. M. (Frank McGuire, Director); Member, American Alumni Council. President, St. John's College, Dr. Richard D. Weigle. Published four times a year in April, July, September, and December. Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. In the July Issue: The First Annual Provocation Address, by Robert A. Goldwin • I Mathematics As A Liberal Art, by Samuel S. Kutler 3 Number Z IZ Alumni Activities July 1969 10 News On The Campuses Volume XXI The Teaching of Theology to Undergraduates, by the Reverend J. Winfree Smith. 18 �The First Annual Provocation Address The 1967 Graduate Institute in Liberal Education By ROBERT A. GOLDWIN Everybody knows how an academic session ought to begin; that is, it properly begins with a Convocation ceremony and a Convocation Address. And everybody knows how an academic session ought to end; and that is, with a Commencement ceremony and a Commence- ment Address. But if there is no Commencement, as in our situat.ion, what kind of farewell ceremony and talk is called for? And what is such a talk called? One of my colleagues suggested recently that if one begins with a Convocation, one ought to end with a Provo- cation. I thought that was an excellent suggestion, and so I have prepared this Provocation Address. I hope that the excellence of the suggestion will be appreciated, that a Provocation Address will- become a tradition of the Graduate Institute, and that this address tonight will come to be known in later years as "The First Annual Provocation Address." · Provocation strikes me as quite consistent with the underlying idea of Commencement. It seems strange to some people, especially at first glance, that the ceremony marking the end of formal education is called Commencement. But the intention is, I think, very clear-that the best way to understand the end of formal education is as a true beginning. Commencement suggests that we look ahead; in the same sense, a Provocation Address should provoke us to look ahead. An educational provocation should seek to provide some beneficial irritant to keep us usefully active and thoughtful until next June. An academic provocation must seek to follow the example of the ancient gadfly. We have spent the summer studying politics and society, and during that time we have read about and thought about and written about different kinds of communities and their underlying principles. What about this community, this Graduate Institute? What kind of society or community is it? We can say of it that it is only temporary, because after eight weeks we are about to disband and disperse. We can say that it is not architectonic, because it is a com- munity within many large communities. We can say that it- is· not even a political community, because whatever powers it exercises fall far short of political power. The question then is, in what sense is it a community? What has made us a community? Now, certainly, the answer is not the residence we have shared, not the meals we have shared, not our outings, not Our parties, not even our common interests and woFk. Nothing has made us a community if it is not the desire we all share to understand. But one might object that the principle I have just stated is what characterizes every good school, and that there is nothing peculiar to this Institute in the shared d-::sire to understand, however strong it may be. I think ·if is true, that objection, and worth thinking about, too, for the question "What is a school?" is a noble question. We are forced to go one step farther. What makes this school the community we have all felt it to be-unique in our experience, unique in our schooling experience? This community has been characterized by one unusual fact that sets it off from other schools. We have lived for eight weeks in the presence of greatness. I do not mean the greatness of any one of us; I mean the greatness of the authors of the books we have str1died. They, the great authors, have set the standards under which we have worked and lived this summer. Now I must point out to you that the greatness of those authors has made us the victims and the beneficiaries of a ridiculous paradox. The paradox can be simply stated: they, the authors we study, are great; in fact, they are the greatest teachers available to us. Compared to them, to those giants of our civilization, we are pygmies. But because we chose to learn from the truly great teachersand this is the ridiculous paradox-we have spent eight weeks unavoidably trying to tell each other, and ourselves, about the .errors those giants made. It lfas been a common thing for one of us to say, "Now where Hobbes (or Aristotle, or Rousseau, or Marx, or Freud, or any of our authors)-now where Hobbes made his fundamental error," and so on. Is that not presmnptuous? Of course 1 �The College the greatness of the great authors. But, it is not too much to hope that many of us have been affected in another way, that we have developed a preference, a strong preference, a growing preference, and perhaps a permanent preference, for excellence rather than the mediocre. All of us know the Biblical story of Jacob, who one evening met a Inessenger of the Lord, and, for some reason, wrestled with him all night long. As morning approached, the messenger of the Lord asked Jacob to let him up. Jacob replied that he would only if the messenger blessed him. Part of the blessing was that a new name was bestowed on Jacob, "Israel," the one who wrestles with God. We, too, have been wrestling with beneficent adversaries capable of blessing us. The authors we have wrestled with this summer may or may not be messengers of the Lord, but they are surely men from whom we may obtain a blessing through wrestling well. At this moment, when the wrestling is about to cease, what blessing shall we ask of them? I make this suggestion-and let this be the provocation -that we ask them to bless us by making us as ambitious for excellence as they were for greatness. And, if, as a result, a strong inclination toward excellence works itself into the very constitution of our beings, then this com· munity will persist, even though dispersed, but no other way. I know the other members of the Faculty join me in thanking you for your diligence, your patience, your ex· cellent good humor, your intelligence, and your devotion to teaching and learning. In short, we thank you for being the kind of people you are. it is; worse than that, it is arrogant. What excuse can we possibly make? Our only excuse is that they made us do it. That is, the only way we can learn from those great teachers is for us to attempt to argue with them, which sometimes necessarily means to disagree with them. In order to be their humble students, we had to make ourselves their critics, which is arrogant. That is the inescapable, ridiculous paradox involved in study of the sort we have been engaged in this summer. To learn from the greatest teachers, one must learn how to be humbly arrogant. Timidly, apologetically, hesitantly, docilc1y, but with arguments, we must say, "Excuse me, 0 Great One, but I think you are wrong." Now what is the consequence of our having dared to live in the presence of greatness? If we had been thoroughly successful, I mean completely successful, no one of us could ever again be satisfied with, or tolerant of, the second-rate. We could not even settle for the first· rate, because greatness stands far above even the firstrate, the skillful, the excellent. But, unfortunately-or per· haps fortunately for the ease of our lives-we have not been that successful. We must surely understand and acknowledge that we have not learned how to share in 2 Robert A. Goldwin began his term as Dean of St. John's College in Annapolis on July l, 1969. He was Associate Professor of Political Science and Director of the Public Affairs Conference Center at Kenyon College. He is Editor of the Rand McNally Public Affairs Series-volumes of essays which have grown out of Conference Center meetings among practicing political men, journalists, and academics. The volumes present responsible and authoritative statements of differing views on major public problems on a variety of subjects. Some of the volume titles are America Armed: United States Military Policy; A Nation of States: Tile Amcricau Federal System; Political Parties, U.S.A.; 100 Years of Emancipation; Left, Right, and Center: Liberalism and Conservatism in t11e United States; Higller Education and Modern Democracy: The Crisis of tile Few and tlw Manv; and A Nation of Cities: America's Urban Problems. · Mr. Goldwin has also edited three readers in international relations. He is the author of "John Locke," in History of Political Philosophy, published in 1963 by Rand McNally, and he is presently writing a book on Locke. In 1966 he was named a Guggenheim Foundation Fellow. He is a 1950 graduate of St. John's College and received his Ph.D. from the University of Chicago. IIe was one of the planners and the first director of the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education in Santa Fe. Since enrolling as a freshman he has always been connected with College activities. All those who have had the opportunity to observe and to admire his leading a seminar or conducting a question period know that his return to the College is indeed a coming home. �Mathematics As A Liberal Art By SAMUELS. KUTLER Seminar Discussion on the Place and Extent of the Teaching of Mathematics in the Liberal Arts Curriculum'' SEMINAR PARTICIPANTS The Instruction Committee of St. John's College Dr. Richard D. Weigle, President Dr. JohnS. Kieffer, Dean Mr. Robert S. Bart, Tutor Dr. Eva T. H. Brann, Tutor Dr. Jacob Klein, Tutor Mr. SamuelS. Kutler, Tutor Mr. Hugh P. McGrath, Tutor Mr. Dean R. Haggard, Tutor Brother, U. Alfred, F.S.C., Professor of Mathematics, St. Mary s College Dr. Henry Alder, Associate Professor of Mathematics, University of California, Davis Campus Brother T. Brendan, F.S.C., Associate Professor of Mathematics, St. Mary's College Dr. Max Kramer, Professor of Mathematics, San Jose State College Dr. Gordon Latta, Professor of Mathematics, Stanford University Dr. Kenneth 0. May, Professor of Mathematics, Carlton College, Visiting Professor of Mathematics University of California, Berkeley Campus ' Mr. John Thomas, Assistant Professor of Mathematics, University of San Francisco Dr. Richard P. Wiebe, Assistant Professor of Mathematics St. Mary's College ' Dr. Lloyd Williams, Professor of Mathematics, Reed Col· lege * Taken from the "Proceedings of the Colloquium on The Liberal Arts Curriculum: Structure and Content, St. Marv's College, March 25th-March 27th, 1965," pp. 27-41. · Mathematics is a liberal art at St. John's College. Although four hours a week are set aside for a mathematics tutorial! the mathematics curriculum should not be set up or considered mdependently of the curriculum as a whole. Mathematical illustrations illuminate discussions in semi· nars and language tutorials, which in turn illuminate discussions of the methods, axioms, postulates, and definitions m the mathematics tutorials. Certain passages in Plato's Republic must remain dark unless illuminated by careful study of geometry. One cannot read far in the writings of Whitehead without wanting to know what experiments and what hne of reasoning leads to the incredible postu· lates and conclusions of relativity theory. Every leader m a mathematics tutorial is engaged in teaching and learning ii: other parts of the program. This permits radical questwmng beyond what is ordinarily considered to be within the boundaries of mathematics. It allows students and tutors to pursue lines of inquiry leading to relation· ships between the work of the mathematics tutorials and the .semina~, language program, laboratory sciences, and musiC tutonal. By studying Euclid and Ptolemy in mathematics tutorial while they are reading Plato and Aristotle in seminar, by studying Newton's Principia ... while they are reading Locke, Hume, and Kant, the students discoyer~without requiring sermons on the subject-relationships m and between what are conventionally regarded as separate fields of knowledge. The chief specific aim of the mathematics tutorial, as stated in the catalogue, "is to give the student insight mto the nature and practice of thinking, of reasoning that proceeds systematically from definitions and principles to necessary conclusions." And, one might add, to become familiar with those objects, such as number and figure, which are preeminently accessible to tl1is kind of think· ing. T11e student should learn what a demonstration is. H~ sh<:uld learn this br understanding demonstrations, by cnli~IZmg demonstratwns, and by performing demon· stratwns. Mathematics is a discipline in which the subject matter allows of great precision. If it is the case that politics, for example, does not allow of the same precision of argument, the student of the liberal arts should have 3 �The College something to hold up as a model of that precision which he must always fall short of in a political discussion. To what extent should mathematics be studied in a liberal arts curriculum? In an age dominated by modern science and technology the student should have enough theory and practice in symbolic mathematics so that he will not have to despair of being able to understand the ing propositions himself, defending his proofs from ob- discoveries and even of being able to criticize claims to authority made in the name of mathematical physics and Dedekind's analysis of the real number system. The study of Euclid concludes with the construction of the five mathematical biology. regular solids, which soon reappear in a seminar reading of Plato's Timacus and again in his sophomore year when he reads Kepler's Epitome of Copernican Astronomy. In Since no one can be considered to have received a good education if he accepts uncritically the opinions of the educators of his own times, the student should encounter alternatives to these opinions. At the present time many educators appear to be of the opinion that no child is too young to begin to learn mathematics from the point of view of the theory of sets. It seems that we may be approaching a time where no other way of mathematical thinking would be conceivable. At such a-so far hypothetical-time a liberal arts mathematics curriculum should draw material from any period of history that presents an alternative approach. At the present time it would seem to be worthwhile to study the first book of Euclid's Elements with an attempt to understand it not from a "higher" point of view, but as much as possible as Euclid himself understood it. Then proofs of the same theorems from Hilbert's axioms would provide a modem approach. Each study should enrich the other, and the student should then be in a position to begin serious and fruitful reflection on the nature of geometry. The following review of the mathematics program at St. John's is not meant to suggest that St. John's has found the only correct road to a mathematics curriculum for liberal arts students. Many improvements have been made over the years and we try to remain open to suggestions for further improvement. We do believe, however, that the present mathematics program at St. John's is successful to a large extent, to a greater extent than any other program we know of, in meeting the aims of such a mathematics jections, and explaining it to those who arc having diffi- culty understanding the proof. Among the high points in the study of Euclid's geometry is the theory of ratios, in which the difficulties caused by the existence of incommensurable magnitudes are met by the Eudoxian definitions of same and greater ratio that contain the seeds of the last third of the year the attention of the tutorial is fixed on Ptolemy's Almagest. Here the student finds the theorems of Euclid extended to set up a mathematical science of the 1notion of heavenly bodies. His first experience with mathematical methods of approximation is in Ptolemy's construction of a table of arcs and chords that is equivalent to our trigonometric tables. The freshman mathematics program concludes with Ptolemy's theory of the sun's movement. In the sophomore year the study of the Ptolemaic system of the world continues with the consideration of a theory of planetary motion. Before long the difficulties and complexities become apparent in Ptolemy's attempt to "save the appearances" by means of regular circular motion about the earth as center. The student is prepared for the transition to Copernicus's heliocentric theory, which is effected by proofs that show the mathematical equivalence of the two theories in accounting for certain basic measur- able phenomena. Apollonius's purely geometric treatment of conic sec- tions is the next course of study. The student builds upon his understanding of Euclid's Elements to reach the culmination of Greek mathematics. In the last third of the sophomore year, analytical geometry is studied. Because of the previous work on Apollonius, an especially important proof is that every conic section represents an equation of the second degree and conversely. Here, and at other points curriculum. To see more fully how the College under- in the study of conic sections, ancient and modern arts stands these aims it is necessary to turn to the particulars are brought to bear on the "same" objects, which be- of the program. We hope to emerge from the consideration of these particulars with opinions applicable to a mathe- cause of radically different treatments are somehow not matics program in any liberal arts curriculum. In his freshman year at St. John's, every student begins with the Elements of Euclid. The freshman who thought that mathematics was only for those with a special aptitude finds himself actively engaged in discussion about mathematical principles: the definitions, the postulates, the common notions. Together with students who were sure that they had mastered plane geometry in secondary school, he begins to reflect on the nature of the mathematical objects and on the nature and kinds of mathematical demonstration that Euclid displays. Besides challenging and discussing the proofs given by his fellow students, he is acquiring the art of effectively demonstrat- 4 quite the same. The contrast between the treatments leads to the raising of far-reaching questions about these treatments and their objects. Assumptions and presuppositions arc thus explored which otherwise might never have been brought to light. In the third year the historical order of subjects is abandoned; that is, the calculus in its modern form is studied as preparation for the consideration of the roots of mathematical physics in the works of Galileo, Kepler, and Newton. (It should be said that the order of subjects in this program is not based on any theory of history, but on the opinion that in many, if not most, cases the order of insight, or natural order of conception and argument can best be understood by studies that follow the historic �July 1969 development.) In the Principia . . . the student sees astronomy no longer treated only as a heavenly science but "heavenly and earthly motions brought under one law." There is an exciting moment when Newton seems to have grasped the notion of limit in its modern rigorous form, "For those ultimate ratios with which quantities vanish are not truly the ratios of ultimate quantities, but limits towards which the ratios of quantities decreasing without limit do always converge; and to which they approach nearer than by any given difference, but never go beyond, nor in effect attain to," and then he reverts to ('till the quantities arc diminished in infinitum." In the fourth year there is a return to elementary geometry. Lobachcvsky, in the uncertainty as to whether there is more than one line through a point that does not meet a given line, produces a consistent, perhaps unimaginable, geometry. Moreover, Lobachcvsky insists that the choice between consistent geometries must he decided by astronomical observation. The student, returning to the demonstrations of elementary geometry, finds he is handicapped by being unable to usc his images in quite the way he could with Euclid's geometry proofs. The student is compe11ed to re-examine his opinions about the nature of geometry; for example, a re-reading of a section on the transcendental aesthetic in Kant's Critique of Pure Reason is then in order. With these alternatives to Euclidean geometry having been examined, the groundwork has been laid for a consideration of more general geometry with the examination of the claim of Arthur Caley that projective geometry is all of geometry.. The substance of that claim becomes clear when the nonEuclidean geometries, as well as Euclidean geometry, turn out to be special cases when considered as subsets of the projective plane. The mathematics program concludes by extending the study of astronomy that began with Ptolemy, Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler, and Newton to the geometrization of physics proposed by Einstein in the theory of relativity. · CoMMENTARY BY BROTHER U. ALFRED In discussing the mathematics program of the St. John's plan and its relevance for liberal education in general, there are some major problems. What is the standard of judgment? Liberal education from what one is able to read about it is an undefined quantity in the sense that we are blessed with innumerable divergent conceptions of its nature. Such a flexible yardstick does not lend itself to accurate measuring. Accordingly, a mathematician might proceed in the first instance to note that the St. John's program has the characteristic of consistency. Starting with the concept of learning from the great teachers of all times and accepting the twofold nature of the liberal arts as manifested in the trivium and quadrivium, it is only appropriate to seck for works that incorporate classical development of mathematics either in its own right or in relation to other fields .... One can go on to specific difficulties of a practical nature. The program evidently docs not agree with the usual pattern of college education as exemplified in our country wherein students as a rule engage in some measure of specialization so as to be prepared for their specific subject area in graduate work or their life work after college. Possibly, the superior type of student can take the St. John's program and then go on to higher studies and without too much difficulty compensate for the lack of ad hoc work in his area of specialization. But I doubt if the generality of students would be able to do this. T11e problem then is thrown back to one of economics: so many years of schooling costing so much per year before one is able to arrive at the time of gainful employment .... Next, while the emphasis on the great themes in mathematics and concern with mathematical classics has admirable features, it would seem to me to be carried to an extreme. Too much time and effort is spent on puzzling through obscure and involved approaches which have long been superseded. There is an answer, of course: this is the way to train the human mind; what the students do not get in n1athematical content, they acquire in greater ability to analyze difficult language and piece together obscure thought processes. Such an answer carried to its logical consequences can arrive at the absurd conclusion that the more obscure and difficult a teacher is, the better he is This view could be very satisfying to some of the people who spend their years confusing the young mind in the classroom, but it hardly appears satisfactory from the standpoint of the young mind .... Simply as a springboard for discussion, I would like to advocate the following as a minimum: In the freshman year, there should be a course along the lines indicated by Dr. Henry L. Alder in a recent article in the American Mathematics Monthly entitled "Mathematics for the Liberal Arts Students." This emphasizes the free operation of the human mind in its approach to quantity and form. Starting with a fully fabricated theorem such as is found in Euclid is quite artificial. IVIathematics is never discovered in this state. Such formulations are the very last 5 �The College stage in a process of development beginning with vagne fumblings, proceeding by surprising intuitions, maneuvering by shrewd guesses, checking by numerous .examples, arriving at a projected theorem, attempting to prove this theorem ... and only after a long period of development when many such processes have been carried out, the fullfledged logical system a Ja Euclid is achieved. To start students at this end of the process is fine for exemplifying the logical structure of a mathematical system, but very poor as a means of giving them a mathematical experience. In the upper division course, this would be the time to show students one or more mathematical systems including Euclid's, though it would not be advisable to go through the entire work. Here would be the place to consider those many fine topics treated in the St. John's program: rational and irrational number, limits, the nature of with the kind of mathematics which presupposes a totally different conceptual approach. That's one of the reasons why we prefer it. There are other reasons-let me not go into them now. On the very general question why mathematics should be studied at all, I should like to point out the fundamental fact that the way to learn is originally the mathematical way; there is something about learning mathematical relationships which presents the model of all learning, because of its precision and the necessary avoidance of all the sophistry which usually surrounds our way of talking. Furthennore1 mathematics is, indeed, a way of speaking, a very strange way of speaking, because it is related to our use of signs, and although words are signs, the mathematical signs arc different because they are not necessarily pronounced. They are written or diagrammed1 put down somewhere on sand 1 or on paper, or on the blackboard. I have, pemonally, a certain opinion-it may be totally wrong-that the development of mathematics consists in changing the nature of those signs with which mathematics originally started.* That is, originally mathematical signs were not symbols, but .they became symbols later on. And this symbolic language is, of course, an incredible, powerful tool for our understanding, for understmfding a) our world, and b) ourselves. So it seems to me that liberal education, if it is to exist, cannot possibly avoid studying mathematics. calculus, the postulational approach to mathematics, what constitutes mathematics, the relations of mathematics and science, non-Euclidean geometry, the Dedekind cut, and so on. The historical significance of these ideas brought out especially by relating them to passages from the great works on mathematics should be considered essential. Finally, without becoming too technical, students should be brought to the very last word in modern mathematicswhat it is doing, where it is going, its significance for the future of our culture. DISCUSSION Mr. Klein: ... it is perfectly conceivable to us that our mathematics program is not built in the right way. I think that what you said about Euclid representing a sort of last stage in the whole process of mathematical experimentation, as it were, is· quite right. It is a sort of an accomplished affair, and to start with that is questionable. On the other hand, one could start the freshman year with the buildup of the number system. The reason-one of the reasons, not the only one-why we prefer our way is this, that it helps the rest of the program. While in the freshman year they are reading books written originally in Greek, the relation to Euclidean mathematics and Apollonian mathematics is much closer than if you start 6 Miss Brann: ... Another topic that comes up and becomes very vital is: What are the objects with which mathematics deals? And since we begin in classical mathe- matics with systems which do have specific objects to be seen and imagined and analyzed, and then go on to the type of mathematics (first represented by analytical geometry) which does not apparently have such objects, this question is very quickly transformed into the following: Is mathematics primarily concerned with objects or with methods? And so we raise a second great topic the question: what is a method? Is there an objectless method? Does the object determine the method? Or the method the object? So when I began by saying that it probably would be accurate to say in some way that we don't study mathematics, this is what I meant. We're really interested in ways of understanding primarily, and if the particular theorems 1 the particular discoveries of mathematics are in some way curtailed, that may be deplorable from a different point of view, but it fits in with what we are trying to do. Dr. May: I'd like to ask a couple of questions whose answers will give me a better picture of what actually * Sec Jacob Klein, Greek Mathematical Thought ami the Origin of Algebra, translated by Eva Brann, with an Appendix containing Victa's Introduction to the Analytical Art translated by the Reverend J. Winfree Smith, Jr., M.I.T. Press, 1968. (Ed.) �July 1969 happens in class. I imagine you studying Euclid in the first year and, as we say, discussing the proofs. Now it's well known that Euclid is incomplete-his axiom system is incomplete-someone who's trained in modern mathematics would be able to demolish a good many of these proofs. Does it ever happen in your critical discussions that students realize on their own that things are missingthat the argument isn't complete? And does the instructor call this to the attention of the student? Mr. Kutler: It certainly happens that students discover this, either by themselves or with the help of Thomas Little Heath, who has edited it, and filled it with scholarly comments of all kinds, historical and mathematical. Now, I'm not sure that Euclid, if he were alive-and maybe you could convince him-would agree with you that all the gaps are gaps. I'm not sure that the enterprise he's interested in is the same as the enterprise of modern mathematics. That is, I think Euclid's talking about triangles, not the ones you draw on the board but the ones in your -imagination. But I think he expects you to look at those figures, or look at them with your mind's eye. So when you say in the first proposition in Euclid, "Well, look, he doesn't have an axiom which says that two circles are going to intersect," maybe he'd say "I don't need an axiom for that because it's about figures and we can see that there's a point inside and a point outside and we know what circles are, and of course they meet." Dr. May: Do you stay within the Euclidean program and judge Euclid on the basis of what he was trying to do or do you also consider the possibility of other programs at the same time? Miss Brann: This is another one of those large topics which arises very nicely within this framework. Most of our students have some sort of vague notion of, to use a there arc two aspects of mathematics-modern aspectsthat one, I think, is neglecting. The first one is the enormous amount of mathematical information which makes people feel that one can't start with the present. On the other hand, one of the characteristics of mathematics in the last hundred years is a tremendous achievement in understanding the simple ideas of mathematics. And I think that this makes it possible by utilizing what we know about mathematics now to start with the very most modern ideas, to start with mathematics as it now exists, and present that to the beginning student. I think that by so doing, and only using the classical material as contributive, one would be able to achieve all the goals of the Program. Certainly one would teach logical reasoning and so on. I think you will do this far quicker by starting with what we now know about logical reasoning. Mr. Kutler: The quicker there's no doubt about. Dr. May: I think quicker and more deeply. The individual would even understand better the chssical work in this area if you begin utilizing everything we know. So that I would say, instead of starting with the old and going toward the new, start with everything we know now. Mr. Kutler: We do that with the calculus. I tried to say that. We do it with the calculus and then we read Newton's lemmas, and we get the tension in the other direction, the way you want to see it; that is, we see a struggle for something-somethimes Newton seems to have it as much as Cauchy had it. I do think it's bad if everything is presented too simply as a finished product. You see Brother Alfred's criticism about Euclid would apply pretty strongly to what you say now, that is, you don't see any struggle or groping to come up with this, but everything is presented as something all smooth with all the edges taken off. technical term, an "axiomatic system," when they come to us. When we begin to study Euclid, one of the interesting topics to discuss is whether this is what they had heard rumors of in high school, whether Euclid's "system" is intended to be an arbitrary axiomatic system in the sense they imagined. Well, three years intervene, and we finally come to the senior year when we begin to study modern axiomatics, and it turns out that in fact there exists a world of difference between an Euclidean axiom and an axiom of Hilbert. And though it is in fact the case that we don't do justice to the ramifications of modern axiomatics, I think that we do do justice to the difference between the approaches. And this does make many students feel that thev want to go on with the modern side. Dr. May: ... it seems to me that it would be better not to make it the concern to get to modern times from ancient times, getting modern ideas from old ideas, but to start with what we know now, and to usc the old ideas to illuminate modern understanding. It seems to me that . .. but you see one thing we do, and nobody has emphasized this, one reason why we like to do a lot of theorems in Euclid is it's the first, it's the beginning of having the students learn to demonstrate. And when they learn it, it's not by our lectures. We consider that a major thing-I don't know whether you agree with me or not. 7 �The College Dr. Kramer: I agree up to a point. Too much time is spent, I think, on doing everything in Euclid. There are many methods of proof. Euclid practically restricts himself to one. Oh, he gives a token to the indirect method, but there is very little induction, nothing of mathematical induction, and he doesn't get involved in the laws of logic (for example, the law of the contrapositive) and things of this sort. So my feeling is this: I would like to see you cut back the number of theorems from Euclid-give the rest of the time to a consideration of a variety of methods of proof, and see what has evolved, for example, through the use of algebraic methods. I'm not saying you must disregard Euclid's work. With the statement that one must start with it, I agree a hundred per cent. My feeling is that you must cut back to make room for these other things. Mr. Kutler: To make the points you want to make, it seems to me, that Euclid doesn't have this or doesn't have that, which we notice, time and again, would go in and out the ear of the student who hasn't worked with it long enough. They don't have any solid thing to base against the modern approach. Miss Brann: Do not forget that many of these students are people who, in an ordinary college, would regard themselves as having a block against mathematics. Mr. Bart: I'd like to say just one word about the example that came up with continuity-two words. First of all, of course, continuity doesn't wait in our treatment until the senior year. That's manifest. It emerges the moment we try to look at a locus problem. We're immediately confronting the converse of the situation we've been getting with the conic section taken as a cut, in which it seems the figure is given in its continuity in the manner in which, say, Euclid gives it. When we try to look at the conic section as some kind of locus problem, immediately the question of continuity has to come up, and then we try to go back and ask ourselves to what extent and in what way Euclid presupposes it. But it 'doesn't seem to me certain that our notion about continuity, that is the notion we formulate in a mathematical system today, is the real starting point of the problem of continuity. Those definitions and those achievements really seem to me to have something in back of them, and what they have in back of them is really what Euclid starts with. Now at what moment one is to become articulate about the problem of continuity is not completely clear to me .... There are various approaches to these problems, but I'm also inclined to believe that there is merit in doing what we do, the obvious merit being that students who expect to have problems with math don't. The strange fact abont our program is that nowhere is it more successful than in our math program, simply in the sense that within a week the students find that they don't have blocks, they 8 don't have problems, we don't have to do handsprings, we just forget that, and it's extraordinarily rare that a student fails to come out with a profitable experience. I'm inclined to think that the Euclidean starting point is a perfectly good starting point. There was, it seems to me, in a number of remarks that have been made, the impli- cation that we have improved on the Euclidean starting point, especially improved pedagogically. It's taken for granted that we've improved on it mathematically, and perhaps that's correct. Set theory doesn't seem to mehowever central and, to many people, fun-it doesn't seem to me clear that it is as successful a starting point pedagogically. Dr. Williams: Would simple group theory be a better starting point? It's much simpler. Geometry's tough. It's complicated. Mr. Bart: That depends on what you're trying to do. That depends on whether you feel with Euclid that the objects of geometry have a givenness ... or not. And it seems that really until the eighteenth centmy people were inclined to think so. I don't know. They might have been wrong, but they did have this notion. Dr. Williams: Well, when you said "in back of it" you meant in time, that is, what people were doing when they stumbled onto the notion. Mr. Bart: What they were doing was something like trying to describe a figure as a set of points. But of course if you haven't understood a figure as a set of points, the problem of continuity doesn't have the same prominence. Dr. Williams: Well, maybe continuity should be postponed. I don't hold any brief for that particular topic, unless one is studying the history of mathematics. Then, of course, it is very central. Mr. Bart: We're not pretending to be studying the history of mathematics for its own sake. It is very true that more than in anything else we do we follow an historical pattern in mathematics, but I think we would try to argue that we do so for two reasons, one pedagogical, and probably more importantly, the very great impact on the student of the transition from ancient mathematics to modern mathematics through the Cartesian revolution. The axiomatic method as we're understanding it, say especially under the aegis of Hilbert, is not the only starting point for the science of mathematics. In fact, not only in theory, it's not the only starting point. I agree with Mr. Kutler, I doubt very much that Euclid would agree that all of the gaps we find arc gaps. I very very much doubt it. Miss Brann: Let me try to say what Mr. Bart's saying in a somewhat different way. People do usually agree when they talk about modern mathematics of the types that have been mentioned, that the word "abstract" is a good word for it. Some of its beauty and simplicity comes from its "abstractness." Well, it seems to me that it's very hard to keep an interest in something abstract if one hasn't first become thoroughly familiar with the concrete underpinning from which it has been abstracted. It seems �July 1969 to me that the mathematics that we do in the first three just a matter of efficiency of communication, circulation, years, which is so closely associated with physics, or at and so on. It has made possible things that couldn't be done otherwise, but that's not the essence of the change. Miss Brann: You would agree that what you are now propounding is a doctrine of great importance and that it is, whether true or false, an opinion which one would need least with objects of the imagination, is precisely the ground of concreteness frmn which the abstractions 1nust be understood to have been made in order to seem formally beautiful. That is, they are the proper ways, or at least the most convenient ways, of viewing the things which are left behind. For what good are these new ways to the understanding if what has been superseded, if not presupposed, by them is not at some point recalled? some years to investigate. That is, you wouldn't want us or anyone else to accept this opinion as simply true? But how else would one investigate whether it was true or not except by making the comparison? Dr. May: Mathematic language is an extension. It includes the ordinary every day language and some additional symbols just as every other scientific language does. This little business of the nature of mathematical symbols is really a side issue. Mr. Bart: For us, it simply isn't a side issue. The issue that we're facing really is to carry the students as far as we can back over the Cartesian revolution about the nature, not merely of mathematics, but a great many other things, to the point where the word "image" would no longer be a synonym for the word "symbol," as it's tended to be in literary discourse and elsewhere, and obviously as in your reaction to my remark; and to the point in which we would really sec that the role which Mr. Kutler ascribed to the imagination is now meant in a rather literal sense, the very sense which, I guess, is so crucial Dr. May: If one approaches mathematics by studying Euclid because he was a great n1athematician, in the same way that one approaches philosophy by studying Plato and Aristotle because they were great philosophers, there's a difference in the outcome: some part of Euclid are timeless and they're incorporated in modern mathematics, and some are obsolete and confusing. Euclid suffered in many aspects of his work by simply not understanding things which now we do understand. And therefore by taking off from the modern ideas, we really hit the problems that are meaningful today with the understandings that we have today. So that I think that this prejudice in favor of the classics has led to the curriculum that is here. Mr. Bart: You don't accept in the least Mr. Klein's suggestion, which we take extremely seriously, that there was a Cartesian revolution, and in making mathematics symbolic, mathematics was profoundly transformed? Dr. May: I don't think there's any difference between using words and using any other symbols. Words are symbols just like the others. Nor do I think there's anything special about mathematical symbols on the alleged ground that you don't pronounce them. You do. There isn't a single mathematical symbol which you have which can't be read, and stated in words. We do it all the time. There's no essential difference there. This is not the revolutionary thing, although it is true that mathematicians have developed a more efficient lar)guage. This is to Kant-the role of the imarination and the role of the objects of mathematics as images. Now of course a great many of the gaps which we think we find in Euclid disappear. There aren't gaps from that point of view. There are gaps insofar as we are grappling with symbols, every meaning of which must be given through definition and axiom. But maybe it's not the case that all objects of mathematics are only given to us by definition and axiom. It's perfectly clear that a very long tradition of mathematicians who were not exactly fumblers did not entertain this point of view. Samuel S. Kutler, tutor at St. John's College, is a 1954 graduate of the College. Before returning to Annapolis as a tutor, Mr. Kutler had risen from Assistant and Associate Mathematician to Mathematician at the Applied Physics Laboratory of TI1c Johns Hopkins University. He has lectured on Cantor's mathematics of the infinite and on Euclid's Elements. 9 �The Teaching of Theology to Undergraduates By the Reverend J. WINFREE SMITH \Vhy should theology be taught to undergraduates and how should it be taught? Before dealing with these questions we should have some rough definition of theology. As the origin of the word suggests, theology can mean any reasoning about God or what relates to God without specification as to what is meant by God or the possible source and means of one's knowledge of God. So it could mean what Aristotle calls theology, which is identical with first philosophy or metaphysics. But we shall mean by theology an investigation or a teaching that is concerned with the God of the Bible and the tradition that springs from the Bible. We may assume that the education of undergraduates has as its aim not to train them in some skill which will pay we11 after graduation, unless the words "pay" and "well" be taken in a highly metaphorical sense. It has as its aim the training and informing of their souls. T11is means that they have to he led to know their own souls. T'he fact is that there is no man living in the modern world whose soul is not already touched by theology. He cannot know his own roots without knowing theology. This does not mean that modern thought is a simple derivative of theology and ultimately of the Bible. It does mean that in order to understand modern thought, i.e., in order to understand ourselves, we have to go back to the beginning of modern thought. Modern thought originated in a breaking away from ancient thought, both from classical philosophy and from the Bible. The education of modern man, therefore, re~ quires that he go back and seek to understand this breach, to sec whether it was a total breach or a partial breach. At the very roots of modern thought there is an argument which is basically a theological argument and which cannot be dealt with fairly without knowledge of the ancient tradition of theology. This is one reason why theology is essential to liberal education. There is a second reason, which is perhaps more important and which is quite independent of any consideration of the history of thought. During the years that an undergraduate is in college he should be examining in a leisurely and ordered way the basic questions of the mean- 10 ingfulncss of his own life, of human life in general, and of the world as a whole. All such questions become ultimately theological questions. One can understand what Laplace meant when he said he had no need of the hypothesis of God. Modern physics can proceed with its theories, its experiments, and its measurements, to its discoveries without reference to God. But if one stands just a little way outside of modern physics, one can ask what its meaningfulness as a whole is and this necessarily involves one in the question of heaven and earth in general and whether in the beginning they were created by God. There is no area in which human inquiry, if pressed far enough, docs not lead to theological questions. Men are generally interested in such questions as: Is there a God, or not? If so, is he a God who cares for men or one who does not? If he is a God who cares, is he limited or not limited in what he can do for me? Can he, for example, raise them from the dead? What does his care imply with respect to what man should do and what he may hope for? Theological education feeds the soul of the undergraduate by acquainting him in a more or less thorough way with the serious and well-reasoned answers that might be given to the questions, answers that are rich and far-reaching in their implications. It gives him much to wonder about and to explore with his mind and heart. The conclusion to be drawn is that theological education is essential to liberal education, whether the educational institution be a secular one or a religious one. In the secular institution the study of theology cannot be thought of as taking faith either as its premise or as its conclusion. The secular institution cannot assume the trnth of the Bible or the dogmas of faith. But it must assume that the Bible and the dogmas of faith make a serious claim to being the simple trnth, a claim that is well worth examining and exploring. No doubt both teachers and students will bring to such a study special prejudices and feelings, of which they must constantly be aware. It is none the less possible for believers and non-believers to apply to the Bible the art of communal discussion with a view to finding out what it is saying in its own ten11s and on what its claim to trnth rests. �fuly 1969 In a college with a religious commitment the teaching of theology would mean something more. For a man of faith, piety is the necessary motive for any study, and one would not engage in theology if one did not regard the study of theology as a pious work. Piety for a Christian means the acceptance of the Bible and the dogmas of faith as truth given by God. It is none the less the case that these given truths have to be appropriated. The believer has to make them his own. One way he does this is through the activity of his intellect, by which he seeks to deepen his own understanding of the revealed Word of God. A liberal arts college with a religious commitment has a duty to assist the undergraduate believer in this enterprise. The enterprise should not be understood too narrowly. Theology must be seen as bearing upon questions that can take their origin in anything with which the undergraduate may be concerning himself. If theology so interpreted is not the queen of the sciences, it is still the center toward which all thought moves, by whatever circuitous paths. Liberal education in a liberal arts college, while its aim is to train and inform the soul, cannot save the soul. Only God can do that, and the institution that God uses for that purpose seems to be, not the college, but the Church. The Reverend Josepli Winfree Smith, Jr., tutor at St. John's College, received his B.D. from the Virginia Theological Seminary and his Ph.D. from the University of Virginia. He was Rector of St. Paul's Church, Ivy Depot, Virginia, from 1939 to 1941. In 1959 he was awarded the Addison E. Mullikin Tutorship. He has lectured on Aristotle's Metaphysics, Aristotle's Ethics, John Calvin, Ptolemy, and Kepler's astronomy. Students and tutors have profited from his notes on the number and ratio books of Euclid, his paper on Ptolemy's "Theory of the Moon," and his introduction to and transbtion of Viete's Introduction to the Analytical Art. For some twenty-five years students have benefited from his Tuesday evening extra-curricular classes on the New Testament. ]] �NEWS ON THE CAMPUSES GRADUATION IN ANNAPOLIS The I 77th commencement exercises of St. John's College in Annapolis were held on Sunday, June 8th, under the Liberty Tree on the front campus. The Invocation was delivered by the Reverend Joseph Hemighaus, Assistant Pastor, St. Mary's Church, Annapolis. Jacob Klein, tutor at the College since 1938 and former dean, gave the graduation address. Graduating Magna Cum Laude was Robert Jerome Benton, Raleigh, N.C. Cum Laude graduates were Mariam Alice Cunningham, Edmond, Okla.; Linda Ellen Davenport, New Hope, Pa.; Bernard Mark Davidoff, Philadelphia, Pa.; Anne Barbara Lyons, Westport, Conn.; David Eugene Riggs, Evansville, Ill.; and Catherine Allen V'lagner, Shoreham, Long Island, N.Y. Those receiving degrees Rite were: George Michael Anthony, Brandon, Ore.; Meredith Artis Anthony, Washington, Pa.; Joseph Preston Baratta, Sylmar, Calif.; Mark Israel Bernstein, Brooklyn, N.Y.; Gabrielle Harris Bershen, New York, N.Y.; Dorothy Louis Brodie, Brooklyn, N.Y.; David Wade Caruthers, Cheshire, Conn.; Robert Browne Davis, San Francisco, Calif.; Margaret Ann Escher, New Yark, N.Y.; Regina Clare Forsyth, Houston, Tex.; Benjamin Spencer Franklin, Jr., Bala-Cynwyd, Pa.; Thomas Powick Geyer, Pottstown, Pa.; Janet Anne Gleason, Roanoke, Va.; Philip Gordon Holt, Bethesda, Md.; Martin Kalmar, Flint, Mich.; Blake Landor, Highland Park, Ill.; Deborah Adelaide Moll, Oxford, Md.; Joan Jacqueline Mooring, Braddock Heights, Md.; Gregg Dennis Rains, Weymouth, Mass.; David Leonard Simon, New York, N.Y.; Katen Stagg Simon, Valley Stream, N.Y.; 12 Cheryl Elizabeth Sirofchuck, Sutersville, Pa.; Anthony Jay Snively, III, Washington, D.C.; Merrill Richard Stevens, University Park, Md.; Mary Fowler Teed, Annapolis, Md.; Linda Margaret Torcaso, vVheaton, Md.; Prcsiilcnt of T. Mellon and Sons of Pittsburgh, Pa. Karen Lee Jurgensen, Albuquerque, N.M., and David Alexander Sackton, Cambridge, Mass., graduated Magna Jeannine Pennington 'Vatson, Bel Air, Cum Laude. Md.; and H John Witman, III, Yardley, Pa. Included in the graduation cere- Cum Laude graduates were Margaret Louis Blum, Washington, D.C.; Vicki Sue Brown, New York, N.Y.; William James Cromartie, Jr., Chapel Hill, N.C.; and Michael John Hodgett, \"link, Tex. Receiving degrees Rite were Frank Hudson Adams, Chestnut Hills,-Mass.; monies was Richard Tower Congdon, DeKalb, Ill., 1952. Mr. Klein was recognized by the Board of Visitors and Governors and the College for his thirty-one years of service to the College. A scroll signed by Mr. Walter F. Evers, retiring chairman of the Board, and by President \'Veigle was presented to him. Retiring Dean Kieffer was also hon- Governors and Governor and Vice- Paul Fleitmann Bunker, Santa Fe, N.M.; Lynn Ellen McCiivc Butler, Buffalo, N.Y.; \Villiam Roderick Butler, Lancaster, Tex.; Daniel Cleavinger, Albuquerque, N.M.; Raymond Jay ored by the Board and was presented Drolet, Farmington, N.M.; Craig Fan- a scroll recognizing his forty years of service to the College in many capaci- sler, Sun City, Ariz.; Shirley Jean Cushing Flint, San Jose, Calif.; James Morrow Hall, Albuquerque, N.M.; Melissa Ann Nettleship, Fayettesvillc, Ark.; Claudia Nordstrom, South Nyack, N.Y.; Joe Pratt Reynolds, Arlington, Tex.; Robert Lessing Rosenwald, Jr., Santa Fe, N.M.; James Austine Scanlon, Upland, Calif.; Marilyn Joyce Avery Soon, Tulsa, Okla.; .Thomas Evans Stern, Palo Alto, Calif.; John ties, including president. A Faculty Resolution was then presented to Mr. Weigle honoring him for his twenty years of service and guidance as president of St. John's College. The Benediction by the Reverend Hemighans concluded the ceremonies. SECOND SANTA FE COMMENCEMENT 'll1c second commencement day at St. John's College in Santa Fe began at 11:00 a.m. with a baccalaureate service with visiting lecturer Bishop James P. Shannon as speaker. The invocation and benediction at the exercises was given by the Rever- end Lowell Russell Ditzen, director of the National Presbyterian Center in \'Vashington, D.C. Principal speaker at the graduation was Mr. Adolph W. Schmidt, former chairman of the Board of Visitors and Harvey Strange, San Antonio, Tex.; Lee Tepper, Washington, D.C.; Joseph Hicks Tooley, New Yark, N.Y.; Carol Ann Lightner Tucker, Albuquerque, N.M.; Steven Lee Tucker, Albuquerque, N.M.; and Michael Anthony vViener, Sausalito, Calif. The Class of 1969 graduated 63 seniors on both campuses. AWARDS AND PRIZES PRESENTED AT BOTH COMMENCEMENTS Awards and prizes at the two com- �fuly 1969 mencements were presented to the following students: To the Senior who has the highest standing, a silver medal, offered by the Board of Visitors and Governors: (A) Robert Jerome Benton, {SF) William James Cromartie, Jr., and David Alexander Sackton. To the member of the Senior Class who writes the best Senior ~essay: (A) Dorothy Louise Brodie; Honorable mention, Joseph Preston Baratta and Anthony Jay Snively, III, (SF) Vickie Sue Brown; Honorable mention, Margaret Louise Blum. To the member of the Junior Class who writes the best annual essay: (A) Marielle Mikah Hammett; Honorable mention, Diana Owen Runyon, (SF) James Frederick Scott; Honorable mention, Michael Joseph Landry. To the member of the Sophomore Class who writes the best annual essay: (A) Katherine Elisabeth Jackson; Honorable mention, Jeffrey Coleman Kitchen, Jr., (SF) James Christopher Brown and Jenny Frances Calm. To a member of the Freshman Class who writes the best annual essay: (A) Deborah Jessica Letven, (SF) John Stephen Denney. To the student whr submits the best English translation of a Cree'..: poem: (A} Mark Leland Haynes, (SF) Edward Gerald McGrath. To the student who submits the best English translation of a French poem; (A) Meredith Artis Anthony, (SF) James Dale Danneskiold and Donald Hugh \Vhitfidd. To the student who submits the best English poem: (A) Anthony Jay Snively, III, (SF) First prize, James Frederick Scott; Second prize, Jonathan Lippitt Brewer and Kerry Martin Prechte1. To the member of the Freshman or Sophomore Class who submits the most elegant solution of a mathematical problem: (A) Jeffrey Coleman Kitchen, Jr.; Honorable mention, Jeffrey Sonheim, (SF) No prize. To the member Of the Junior or Senior Class who submits the most elegant solution of a mathematical problem, or submits the best short essay on a "mathematical topic: (A) Anthony Jay Snively, III; Honorable mention, Dikran Kizilyan, (SF) Michael Joseph. Landry. To the student who submits the best brief comment on a piece of music: (A) No prize; Honorable mention, Jeffrey Coleman Kitchen, Jr. To the student who submits the best musical composition or the best commentary on the song, "An die Musik," by Schubert: (SF) Joe Pratt Reynolds. To a Junior for ac-ddemic achievement, con~ structive ·membership in the College community, and commitment to post-graduate study, the Duane L. Peterson Scholarship: {A) Edward Michael Macierowski, {SF) Michael Joseph Landry. To the member of the Junior Class considering teaching as a career, a book award given by Teachers College, Columbia University: (A) Richard Dclahide Ferrier. Assistant Dean Robert L. Spaeth meets with Annapolis Mayor Roger VI. Moyer to discuss campaign plans before the May 13th election. Mr. Spaeth's initiation into politics \vas successful with his election as alderman from the third ward, \vhile Mr. Moyer was voted a second term in office. ASSISTANT DEAN ELECTED ANNAPOLIS ALDERMAN Robert L. Spaeth, assistant dean and tutor, was elected alderman from the third ward in Annapolis, on Tuesday, May 20th, by a vote of 426 to 327. He defeated the Republican candidate, Mrs. Anthony M. Leigh. On Thursday, May 15th, on the editorial page of the Annapolis Evening Capital Mr. Spaeth was endorsed in the following terms: he "is not the kind of college professor-politician who would permit pendantry to block common sense. He is the kind who will roll up his sleeves and work toward fair, reasonable and productive eonclu· sions." The editorial also spoke of his ex· eellent grasp of what the city's prob· !ems were and his keen sense for the kinds of solutions they required. He was endorsed also by the Annapolis Committee for Good Government and by the United Democrats of Anne Arundel County. In his campaign Mr. Spaeth stressed 1) the need for a street parallel to West Street, 2) holding the line on taxation of property owners, because the prop· erty tax as now constituted is too regressive, 3) continuing the improvement of the Annapolis police force, 4) the need for a better Historic Ordinance (controlling building in the downtown area for the purpose of pre· serving the historic character of the city), and 5) the need to improve housing conditions for many of our citizens, which involves expanding urban renewal and involving Negroes in every facet of the city's progress. Mr. Spaeth had won the Democratic primary on Tuesday, April 15th, by a vote of 300 to 245. To the best of our knowledge, this is the first time in St. John's history that a tutor has been elected to the office of alderman in Annapolis. l3 �The College NAVAJO STUDENT 110VES IN Two WoRLDS AT ST. JOHN'S When Benjamin Barney was a little boy in a government school on the Navajo reservation, he had two great desires. One was to go to college; the other was to remain true to the Navajo way. His teachers told him to forget both ideas. He did not. Mr. Barney is now going into his senior year at Santa Fe, and he tries to weave together the best from both his worlds. In his three years at St. John's, he has found that the study of various philosophies has led to the reexamination of his own beliefs. As a result, he reports "my Navajo religion has become more important to me." At St. John's he has especially enjoyed studying Greek and French, discussing the philosophy of Plato, and analyzing Euclidean propositions. When home with his family near Lukachukai, Arizona, he enjoys talking to his "traditional" Navajo parents about the meaning of life, participating in their religious rites, and practicing the ancient arts and crafts of his people. After he graduates he would like to go into education, preferably of Indian youth. He has already had some instructional experience in local schools Benjamin Barney and at the Demonstration School of Rough Rock, Arizona. PUBLIC READINGS HELD AT THE CoLLEGE A series of literary readings at the College attracted favorable attention this past school year in Santa Fe. Participants included poets Bert Meyers, Michael Jenkins, Peter Nabokov, Robert Greeley, W. S. Merwin, Richard Brautigan, and Barrett Price, as WoODWARD HALL RENOVATED well as W. Warren Wagar, who is best known as an historian and author of The City of Man. Tutor Charles Bell read excerpts from his new novel, The Halt Gods, in addition to some of his own poems. Another tutor, Stuart Boyd, read from the works of Robert Woodward Hall has been completely renovated and library books again fill Burns "in an authentic accent." Several students also read their own poems, including seniors Frank Adams and Vicki Brown, junior James Scott, sophomores Jonathan Brewer and Vicky Manchester, and freshman Kerry Prechtel. A reading in honor of the ]60th anniversary of Abraham Lincoln's birth was given by sophomores Ralph Esdale and Steven Moser and freshmen Seth Cropsey and Stephen DeLuca. Dramatic readings of Faustus and Heartbreak House also were presented by students and faculty during the year. RECORD ENROLLMENT EXPECTED IN SANTA FE St. John's will enter its sixth academic year in Santa Fe this fall with an expected enrollment of about 275 students. This will be the largest since the College opened in 1964 and will place it well on its way to the 300-plus projected for the fall of 1970. This incoming freshman class of 125 should be among the most able in the history of the Santa Fe campus. More than half of the applications approved through May ranked in the top ten per cent of their high school classes. Admissions Director Douglas Price and his assistant, Gerald Zollars, a 1965 aluinnus, have visited numerous dties in the West this year to talk with prospective students and their parents. l4 Thirty scholarships worth $6,000 each have been awarded by St. John's to outstanding high school seniors in Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico, Oklahoma, and Texas, planning to attend college this fall. The Southwest Scholars Program was started last year by friends of St. John's to help students from this region on the basis of academic merit and ability. its interior. Annapolis Treasurer Charles T. Elzey accepted the building on behalf of the College from W. H. \1\Tard Construction Co., Inc., on Wednesday, May 7th. Rogers, Taliaferro, Kostritsky & Lamb (now RTKL, Inc.) _redesigned the building, with furmshings by The H. Chambers Company, interior designers of Baltimore. On Timrsday, May 15th, and on Saturday, May 17th, students, faculty, and staff undertook the enormous task of transporting over 42,000 volumes from their two-year temporary dwelling, Mellon Hall, across campus to \1\1oodward Hall. Books were carried in coded bags to predetermined locations in the library. There were some exciting moments on Thursday morning when "Eyewitness News," Channel 13, WJZ-TV, m Baltimore, arrived to film the move. A featurette on the move appeared that evening on the station, under the title, "A Different Kind of Student Demonstration at St. John's." On Tuesday, June lOth, a preview showing of the library for the Friends of St. John's Committee as well as members of the press was held. President Weigle and Committee Chairman Richard F. Blaul, a 1932 alumnus, made welcoming remarks, after which Librarian Charlotte Fletcher and staff gave a tour of the building. Faculty wives were hostesses at the reception. Formal dedication of Woodward Hall will be on Saturday, October 18th, during homecoming activities at the College. (See back cover.) �July 1969 BOARD OF VISITORS AND GOVERNORS ELECTS WoMAN As CHAIRMAN Mrs. Margaret (Peggy) Driscoll of Santa Fe is the new chairman of the College Board of Visitors and Governors elected during the meeting on May 31st in Santa Fe. Mrs. Driscoll, a wrdow, replaces Walter F. Evers of Cleveland, Ohio. She has been on the Board since 1965. Also elected to the Board were Jack M. Campbell, former governor of New Mexico; John Matthews, Abilene, Texas; Mrs. George Raudenbush, St. Louis, Missouri; and 'Mrs. Howard Sirak, Columbus, Ohio. College officials believe Mrs. Driscoll may be the first woman ever selected as Board chairman. MR. WEIGLE HoNORED IN SANTA FE One of the highlights during graduation week in Santa Fe was a May 31st party given by Mrs. Ruth Hurley for the Board of Visitors and Governors. During the evening Mr. Weigle, who is celebrating his twentieth year as president of St. John's College, received three gifts. One was a book conveying expressions of appreciation to him from all present and past Board members. Another was a large sterling tray bearing Mr. Weigle's name and the anniversary date, plus the engraved signatures of all the Board members who have served during those twenty years. He also received an oil portrait by Charles Thwaites. BISHOP SHANNON NAMED SANTA FE VICE PRESIDENT The Most Reverend James P. Shannon, former Auxiliary Bishop of St. Paul-Minneapolis, has been appointed tutor and vice president of St. John's College in Santa Fe, President Weigle recently announced. Bishop Shannon, who attended a summer course at St. John's in Annapolis in 1941, has a master's degree in literature from the University of Minnesota and a doctorate in history from Yale University. He served as president of the College of St. Thomas for ten vears. He also has studied at Oxford University. AsSISTANT DEAN VISITS COLLEGE ABROAD In March Barbara H. Leonard, tutor and assistant dean, participated in a Comparative Education Seminar that visited schools, colleges, and universities in England, Russia, Austria, and Germany. Seminar members were college and university presidents, deans, professors, and secondary school administrators. · Secondary and higher education was discussed with students, faculty, and staff at the University of Leeds and Trinity and All Saints College in England, the University of Moscow in Russia, the University of Novosibirsk in East Siberia, the University of Vienna in Austria, and the Free Uni~ vcrsity of West Berlin in Germany. rl 'he Seminar spent one day in East Berlin as guests of East German educators. Talks were held with the Ministries of Education in all four countries and with representatives of the Trade Union of Education and Scientifi:c Workers of the U.S.S.R. Topics discussed included administration and or~ ganization, professional appointments, ranks, salaries, and policies, student organizations, student life, stipends, and problems. Miss Leonard found conversations with students from the Free University in West Berlin about causes of student unrest particularly interesting. It was reported to her that many who study political science, sociology and . economics there cannot find jobs based on their specialties and some Severna Park, Maryland, Jones Elementary School student Mary Louise Jones raises a point during a junior great books seminar led by St. John's College students Blanche Nusbaum and Susan Mackey. The seminar is similar to one directed by Mrs. Nelson (formerly T. K. T1wmas) last semester at an Annapolis e1emcntary school. (Photo by Tomatsu Nakata.) COLLEGE HoNORS KIEFFERS A reception· in honor of Mr. and Mrs. John Spangler Kieffer was held on Monday, June 9th, in the lobby of the Francis Scott Key Memorial Hall. Tutors Barbara H. Leonard and Robert S. Bart were reception cochairmen. Tutor Ford K. Brown expressed the College's gratitude to the Kieffers and presented them with a silver tray engraved with Mr. Kieffer's name and the dates of his deanship in Annapolis. 15 �The College enroll in theology with a view to using the pulpit as a platform to espouse their social and political convictions. With no time limit on preparation for academic degrees opportunities are opened for some to become what amounts to professional student revolutionaries. She heard of one woman, a revolutionary leader, who had been a member of the Student Council since 1958. ANNAPOLIS FACULTY ACTIVITIES Douglas Allanbrook recently signed a contract with the international music publishing firm of Boosey and Hawkes. The company will publish his "Four Orchestral Landscapes - Symphony No. 3" and "Forty Changes" this year. Mr. Allanbrook will be on sabbatical leave during 1969-1970. Gisela Berns became an American citizen on May 29, 1969. Mrs. Berns prepared for her citizenship examination by studying junior and senior ~eminar readings in The Constitution, The Federalist, Speeches of Lincoln, and the excellent textbook on American government by sometimes St. John's lecturer, Martin Diamond, The Democratic Republic (Rand McNally, 1966). Her witnesses were Tutor Emeritus Simon Kaplan and Tutor Robert Williamson. Mrs. Berns received her doctorate in classics and _philosophy from the University of Heidelberg, Germany. Laurence Berns gave two lectures"Rational Animal-Political Animal," an analysis of the relation of nature and convention in speech and in politics, and "Piety in King Lear," under the auspices of the Graduate Program in Politics and Literature at the University of Dallas in March. He reports a lively question period followed - each lecture. Howard J. Fisher visited three public high schools, Evanston Township, Lake Forest, and Deerfield, and one preparatory school, Lake Forest Acad- ·emy, in the Chicago metropolitan area in the middle of May as part of the Faculty's effort to engage secondary school students' interest in the liberal arts. 16 Harvey Flaumenhaft was married to Mera Joan Oxenhorn on Sunday, May 18th, at Westbury Manor, Westbury, Long Island, New York. The ceremony was performed by Rabbi Oxenhorn, the bride's uncle. Mrs. Flaumenhaft is in the process of completing work for a doctorate in English literature from the University of Pennsylvania. Harry L. Golding presented an hour lecture on Friday, March 28th, at the College of Steubenville, Ohio, entitled Relativity Theory: An Introduction and Some Philosophical Aspects. TI1e lecture was sponsored by the philosophy department of the college. John S. Kieffer, retired dean of .the College in Annapolis, will be on sabbatical leave for 1969-1970. Samuel S. Kutler visited two public high schools, Edina and St. Louis Park, and three preparatory schools, Northfield Collegiate, Blake, and St. Paul Academy in the Minneapolis, Minnesota, area in early May as part of the school visiting program. (See news item abont Howard J. Fisher.) Mr. Kutler taught thirteen classes and talked with faculty and guidance counselors. At a joint meeting of Blake and Northfield Collegiate he met about a hundred faculty members and their wives and spoke briefly on The Distinction Between Education and Training. A lively discussion period followed the lecture. He reports his most successful sessions were based on exploring sections of Plato's Meno with students. After getting the students to share Meno's perplexity about how to define excellence, reading and articulating his famous paradox about learning and analyzing the slave boy scene, it became evident to the students that mathematical arts, the ability to interpret myths and philosophical discipline were needed, all together, in order to begin to understand both the problem and the reading. Rosemary Lauer appeared at a forum entitled The Invisible Tyranny?-Academic Freedom and Theology in the Catholic University, on Tuesday, April 22nd, at Boston College. Barbara H. Leonard will spend five weeks in Ceylon and South India this summer. She will also visit Lady Doak College and American College in Madurai, South India, where she taught as a Fulbright Lecturer and Honorary Professor of Zoology in 1962-1963. Miss Ida Doraiswamy, tutor at St. John's in Annapolis in 1964-1966, is chairman of the mathematics department at Lady Doak College. Miss Leonard intends to visit some of the Greek islands on her return. J. Winfree Smitl1 will be on sabbatical leave during 1969-70. W. Kyle Smith, tutor emeritus, led two classes at the United States Naval Academy on the Brazilian novel Gabriela, Cloves and Cinnamon. He is preparing a study of Calvin's views on the ethics of war for a seminar in the philosophy of war, also at the Academy. Mr. Smiili is a member of the Board of Directors of the Westminster Foundation of Annapolis, an organization that is concerned with religious work among students in the Presbyterian churches in the United States. Mr. Smith has also been participating in ((Dialogue," a group composed of Negro and white Annapolitan citizens who are interested in improving race relations in their city. Robert L. Spaeth led a seminar for Oak Ridge, Tennessee, secondary school students on Thursday, March 27th, to exhibit the St. John's College seminar technique. Open to the public, the seminar centered on Volume One of Alexis de Tocqueville's Democracy in America. Mr. Spaeth's visit was part of an exchange program between Oak Ridge scientists and Annapolis and Santa Fe tutors. Two FRESHMEN LEAD GIRL SCOUT TROUP . Two freshmen girls at Santa Fe have helped a troop of Girl Scouts in the fifth grade of a local public school develop a special project in sign language for the deaf. Ann Miller of Lubbock, Texas, and Molly Porter of Shaker Heights, Ohio, �rnly 1969 encc. He also has been in charge of student programs working with underprivileged children in Santa Fe, patients at the State Mental Hospital, and inmates of the State Penitentiary. He is a Fellow of the American Psychological Association, a member of the Rocky Mountain Psychological Association, and a Certified Clinical Psvchologist. STRINGFELLOW BARR LECTURES ON BOTH CAMPUSES Santa Fe graduates march into the Student Center auditorium for Commencement Exercises on Sunday, June 1st. (Photo by Karl Kernberger.) worked with the girls in learning to communicate with the signs and in a production of The Wizard of Oz carried out in sign language. Performances were given in town and at the State School for the Deaf, which is located in Santa Fe. Both Ann and Molly are "early-enrollment" students who came to St. John's after their junior year in high school. Ann, who had training in Scout leadership, conceived of the project after viewing a performance of the National Theatre of the Deaf. ACTIVITIES OF PRESIDENT WEIGLE ARE VARIED President Richard D. Weigle was invi ted to serve as a consultant to the Curriculum Revision Committee of the University of Notre Dame on Monday, May 19th. Teaching and administrative personnel at the university wished .to confer with Mr. 'Veigle regarding Notre Dame's optional liberal arts program, called the General Program of Liberal Studies. He was asked to discuss the educational ideals embodied in the St. John's curriculum. Mr. Weigle delivered a commencement address, "The Liberal Arts Col- lege: Anachronism or Paradigm," at T11e Colorado College on Monday, June 2nd. The college then granted Mr. Weigle an honorary doctor of laws degree. Our president also appeared on 'VBAL-FM radio on Saturday, May lOth, on a program entitled "Molly Martin Presents A Day In Annapolis." Miss Martin featured the city during a · thirteen-week series. Mr. Weigle discussed the uniqueness of the College curriculum as well as his background with the State Department and his service with the U.S. Army Air Force as a captain in China. Earlier during April a talk by Mr. 'Veigle was tape-recorded by the United States Information Agency for a "Voice of America" broadcast. TUTOR ELECTED HEAD OF THE STATE PsYCHOLOGICAL AssN. The New Mexico Psychological Association has elected tutor Stuart Boyd of St. John's as president for the coming year. Mr. Boyd has degrees in philosophy and psychology from Aberdeen University in Scotland. He has been a tutor at St. John's since 1966, teaching mathematics, French, and sci- Stringfellow Barr, eo-founder of the St. John's academic program and former president of the College, visited the Santa Fe campus on April 25th. His lecture on "The First World Revolution" attracted the largest crowd of the year and it was necessary to hold the discussion period in the dining hall to accommodate all the students and townspeople who came. _ Mr. Barr visited the Annapolis campus on ~/lay 2nd to lecture on "Socrates and the Multiversity." His lecture was the first given as part of the Scott Buchanan 1tlemoria1 Lectureship established in March, 1968, by friends, students and tutors in honor of the late former dean. The Conversation Room was filled to capacity by inquisitive students eager to converse with one of the founders of the program. JAMES I. GILBERT James I. Gilbert, artist-in-residence at the College in Annapolis, died Saturday, March 29th, at his home in Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts. Mr. Gilbert was professor of lmmanities at the University of Chicago before joining the Faculty in 1962. His spirited presence on campus is sorely missed especially by the many students and townspeople who profited from his instruction and example in the Art Studio. A collection. of his paintings was presented at the galley in Santa Fe at the end of the school year. A similar collection is planned for showing in Annapolis in the fall. 17 �ALUMNI ACTIVITIES PROFILES: MEET OuR ALUMNI The Alumni Association of the College last fall completed a two-year study _of Alumni-College relations. Among the resulting recommendations was a suggestion that the College publicize more widely what its graduates are doing. Although the primary purpose of that suggestion was to bring together several different elements of our alumni body by introducing one to the other, .. such publicity might also help answer the oft-asked: "But what do your alumni do?" From time to time, then, the Profiles feature will appear in this section of The College. Ou; purpose will be to acquamt alumm With each other, and to. show those outside the "family" what so':'e ?f our graduates are doing with their hves. Our first two subiects are a college French te~cher and a research neur~Jogist who IS also a teacher. We thmk that you Will enJOY meetmg them. Morris A. Parslow, I945 18 Morris A. Parslow was born in Wil· liamston, Michigan, graduated from Muskegon High School, and attended Muskegon Junior College and Albion College before coming to St. John's. Like many who entered college in the late thirties and early forties, Mr. Parslow found his education interrupted by the war. As a result, he spenf almost two years on campus, served in the Army for three years, and returned to tile College in 1946. He received his bachelor's degree two years later. Following graduation, Parslow stud~jed in France for two years, first at the University of Grenoble, then at the University of Strasbourg. In 1950 he entered graduate study at Princeton University as a junior fellow in romance languages. The following year he became a Herbert Montgomery Bergen Fellow in modern languages and received his M.A. degree in French in 1952. Continuing with the study of French at Princeton, he earned the Ph.D. degree in 1954. Parslow started his teaching career while still at St. John's as a student _tutq.r during his senior year. While at Princeton he was a teaching assistant, and from 1953 to 1959 he was first an instructor and then an assistant pro~ fessor at the University of Chicago. In 1959 he became an associate professor at the State University of New York, Long Island Center. He has been at Grinnell College, Grinnell, Iowa, since 1962, and is curren.tly a professor of French. MF. Parslow is married to the former Michele Milliat of Grenoble, France. With their three sons imd a daughter they make their home in Grinnell. Mr. Parslow's brother Robert, an assistant professor of linguistics at the University of Pittsburgh, is a 1951 graduate of the College. Our second Profiles subject, Henry B. Higman, was born in Millington on Maryland's Eastern Shore. After graduation from Millington High School he came to St. John's in the fall of 1944. Like Mr. Parslow, he found his college interrupted by the war; his graduation cum laude occurred in 1950, as of the Class of 1948. I·Iigman continued his schooling first at the University of Delaware for a summer, and then as a pre-medical student at the University of Maryland during 1950-1951. He entered Maryland's Medical School in 1951, and received his M.D. degree four years later. The new doctor interned for one year at the Delaware Hospital in Wilmington, and then spent three years' residency in neurology at the Charity Hospital of Louisiana. During the period 1959-1962, Dr. Higman held a special training fellowship in neurochemistry at the National Institutes of Health, and was a research fellow in biochemistry at Columbia University. Higman spent the next two years- as an instructor in neurology at the Lo.uisiana State University Medical School, Henry B. Higman, 1948 �July 1969 then four years as an associate professor of neurology at the University of Illinois Medical School. While at Illinois he was also attending neurologist at Presbyterian-St. Luke's Hospital in Chicago. In 1968 Dr. Higman moved to the University of Pittsburgh School of Medicine as professor and first chairman of the then-new Department of Neurology, the p'osition he holds today. A frequent contributor to professional journals, Higman's articles reflect his special rese-arch interest in the chemical basis of neural transmission. He is a member of the U. S. Public Health Service Advisory Committee on Neurological Training, as well as a member of several medical organizations. Dr. Higman lives with his wife and four children-two boys and two girls -in Upper St. Clair Township, Pennsylvania. Mrs. Higman is the former Betty Jean Rusteberg of Annapolis, sister of A. Irwin Rustebcrg of the Class of 1930. AWARD OF MERIT The Alumni Award of Merit, first awarded in 1950, may be awarded annually at the discretion of the Board of Directors of the Alumni Association. The Award is made to an alumnus for ~~distinguished and meritorious service to the United States or to his native State or to St. John's College, or for outstanding achievement within his chosen field." Association President Darrell L. Henry asks that confidential letters of nomination be submitted to him no later than August 29th. Letters may be sent to Mr. Henry at the Alumni Office at the College. Each letter should contain sufficient information about the nominee to permit thorough evaluation by the Board of Directors. Previous recipients of the Award have been: 1950 Amos Francis Hutchins, M.D. 1951 John Vincent Jamison 1952 Lynde Dupuy McCormick 1953 Robert Otis Jones '06 '05 '13 '16 1954 John Triplett Harrison '07 1955 William Lentz '12 1956 Thomas Farran, M.D. 'll 1957 Thomas Bourne Turner, M.D. '21 1958 Walter Scott Baird '30 1959 William Childs Purnell '23 1960 J. Ogle Warfield, Jr., M.D. '19 1961 Robert Franklin Duer, Jr. '21 1962 Richard Herman Hodgson '06 1963 No award made 1964 C. Carey Jarman '17 1965 William Cranmer Baxter '23 1966 John Charles Donohue '35 1967 John Wesley Noble '17 1968 George M. Gclston '35 HOMECOMING Make your plans now to attend Homecoming on October 17th and 18th. There is no Navy football game in town that weekend, so plan to stay overnight. Classes with numerals ending in 9, plus '44, are encouraged to hold their reunions that weekend. The feature event will be the dedication on Saturday afternoon of the new library building, Woodward Hall. In addition, the Board of Visitors and Governors is meeting in Annapolis on Saturday, so here is a chance to meet and talk with the governing body of the College. VVe hope to have the Homecoming Dinner in the gymnasium, so that the faculty and the senior class can be included. To our knowledge, this will be the first time that alumni, faculty and seniors have all attended the dinner. It should be a great step toward making Homecoming a com1nunity affair. Tentative Schedule: Friday, October 17th: Afternoon: Alumni Seminars Night: Lecture or Concert Afternoon: Alumni Annual Business Meeting. (Board of Visitors and Governors meeting.) Dedication of Woodward Hall; tour of building. Evening: Reception, Alumni, Faculty, Seniors, Board members, and special guests. Night: Dinner for Alumni, Faculty, Seniors, and Board. Dance, entire community. PICTURE We received quite a response from the "old timers" to the back cover picture in our April issue. Even a current student was among those who helped identify the thin-clad stalwarts: he knew Louis Clark from St. Paul's School. Our sincere thanks to H. Monroe Helm '25, A. M. Cunningham '26, Louis D. Clark '27, Frank H. Kaplan '29, Ralph S. Guth and R. Ellis Mitchell '30, James W. Crabbe and Robert G. Woodman '32, and Edward E. Gray '34. Congratulations to Mitchell and Kaplan who identified all seven men correctly. The picture is of the varsity track team of 1927, and appeared in the 1928 Rat-Tat. From left to right: William J. Humphreys '27, team captain; Thomas Van Clagett, Jr. '30 (deceased); Lawrence M. Taylor, Jr. '29 (deceased); Frank H. Kaplan '29; Louis D. Clark '27; Rev. Charles M. Robinson '29; and E. Rochester Bryant '27, team manager (deceased). The mile relay team of Humphreys, Clark, Clagett, and Robinson won the Small College Championship of Maryland in 1927, and finished third in a field of seventeen colleges in the Penn Relays in Philadelphia. Saturday, October 18th: Morning: Alumni-Student discussion on Graduate Schools. (Board of Visitors and Governors meeting.) Noon: Buffet luncheon. CHARTER FLIGHT Interested in a trip to Switzerland? Or to anywhere in Europe or the Mediterranean? We may have just the trip you have been waiting for. The Alumni Office is investigating 19 �The College the feasibility of sponsoring a charter flight late next winter (to take advantage of lowest rates). For a group of 75 alumni (wives and children are also eligible), the individual roundtrip fare via DC-8 jet will be about $156. How can you afford to stay at home? The group will fly from Baltimore to Zurich and Geneva, and will return from those cities two weeks later. From Geneva those who wish to go further south can obtain excellent connections. The fare covers the specified flights to and from Europe only. A complete announcement, with a reservation form, will be sent during the summer. Think of the fun you can have touring, skiing, or just sitting in the sun. Make your plans now to join the St. John's College Alumni Charter. ALUMNI DELEGATES Again this year, St. John's College was invited to inaugurals, dedications, and convocations at other institutions. Mr. Weigle attended two inaugurals himself: that of Edward M. Levi as president of the University of Chicago, and that of John J. Pruis as president of Ball State University. Alumni were invited to represent the College at other ceremonies. We are grateful for the willingness with which they responded. - These alumni represented the College at the following ceremonies: S. Paul Schi11ing '23, the inauguration of Morris B. Abram as president of Brandeis University, October 6; John ")<inlocb '47, the inauguration of James R. Lawson as president of The Fisk University, October 6; J. Jeremy Bodine '63, the inauguration of TI1codore D. Lockwood as president of Trinity College, October 12; The Honorable f Dudley Digges '33, the dedication of the I'lew campus of the Charles County Community College, October 12; Stephen W. Ber--gen '45, the inauguration of George I-I. Wil1iams as president of The American University, October 16; Alfred Geier '54, dedication of the i1ew campus of the Rochester Institute of Technology, October 19; T. Lansdale Hill '41, the inauguration of the Very Reverend Thomas D. Terry, S.J ., as president of the University of Santa Clara, October 24; Walter Schatzberg '52, the 125th anniversary convocation of the College of the Holy Cross, October 26; John D. Alexander, Jr. '53, dedication of new buildings at Towson State College, November 2; Willimn A. Darkey '4 2, the inauguration of Ferrel Heady as president of the University of New Mexico, November 9; Jerome D. Goodman '34, dedication of the new campus of Bentley College, November 11; Pasquale L. Polillo '56, the inauguration of the Vezy Reverend Terrance Toland, S.J., as president of St. Joseph's College, November 14; Edwin F. Heinen '39, the inauguration of Allyn P. Robinson as president of Dowling College, February 2; Herbert K. Mohn, Jr. '68, the inauguration of Robert S. Eckley as president of Illinois Wesleyan University, March 22; John \V. Boud1er '29, inauguration of Kermit A. Johnson as president of Alabama College, March 25; Neal R. Gross '65, dedication of Herbert I-I. Lehman College of the City University of New York, and the inauguration of Leonard Lei£ as first president, March 28; George 0. Kunkle, Jr. '62, the Centennial convocation and inauguration of Vivian W. Henderson as president of Clark College, April 19; Mrs. William Aston '55, the inauguration of James A. Butcher as president of Shepherd College, April 19; John D. Mack '45, the dedication of the Elizabeth Seaton Library of the College of Mount Saint Vincent, April 19; Joseph C. Hofmann, Jr. '42, the inauguration of Ronald G. Weber as president Of Mount Union College, April 25; Charles J. Kibler '36, the inauguration of John A. Fincher as president of Carson-Newman College, April 29; William J. King '38, the inauguration of William H. Wagoner as president of Wilmington College, May 1; Midmel C. Keane '45, inauguration of Herbert Schueler as president of Richmond College of the City University Of New York, May 9. CLASS NOTES Lloyd F. Taylor, 1939 High School's first lacrosse team, Gen. Gelston played at St. John's and later helped coach at Boy's Latin School 1936 George T. \Vingate in March was named to the newly-created position of coordinator of government activities for the Goodyear Tire & Rubber Company's Chemical Division. Mr. Wingate wi11 remain in "\Vashington, D.C., where he has been since joining the company nine years ago. 1938 1912 Philip L. Algei was honored by the First Unitarian Society of Schenectady, N.Y., recently when he received the Charles Proteus Steinmetz award for outsto·mding community service. The award cited Mr. Alger's \Vork with the Freedom Forum, United World Federalists, and the Citizens League, as well as with local civic organizations. We can also report the publication of a new book co-edited by 1vir. Alger, The Life and Times of Gabriel Kron, and the publication of the sccorid edition of his Mathematics for Science and Engineeri11g. 1927 Elmer M. Jackson, Jr., has been awarded the Maryland Librazy Association's Trustee' Citation for 1968, in recognition of his "distinguished leadership" in the Annapolis and Anne Arundel County Library Association, 1932 Richard F. Blaul has been elected president of the Anne Arundel County YMCA for 1969. Mr. Blaul recently also assumed chairmanship of the Annapolis committee of the "Friends of St. John's." 1935 Major General George M. Gelston, Adjutant General of Mazyland, was co-chairman {with Senator Joseph D. Tydings of Maryland) of the first Lacrosse Heroes Banquet on June 6 in Baltimore. In addition to playing on Towson A note froq1 R. Cresap Davis, too late for the last issue, .reveals that he has left his fu11 time law practice in Annapolis, and is now on the faculty of Frederick Community College. In addition to teaching a variety of legal and business courses, 1\!Ir. Davis maintains a 1a·.v practice in Hagerstown. James L. McCully was recently appointed to a two year term as chairman of the Board of License Commissioners of the Baltimore City Liquor Board. Jobn C. \Vagner \vtitcs that he is a metallurgist with the U.S. Army Systems Command in St. Louis, Mo. He works with materials selection and failure analysis in connection with Anny aircraft. 1939 Frederick R. Buck has become president of the Title Guarantee Company of Baltimore. Richard \XI. Snibhe, an architect in New Yark City for 28 years, has been elected to the College of Fellows of the American Institute of Architects. Such election is a lifetime honor bestowed on members \vho have contributed notably to the advancement of the profession of architecture. L1oyd F. Taylor in TVIarch was elected president of Standard Kollman Industries, Inc., after six years as president of one of the corp·oration's principal subsidiaries, Casco Products Corporation. Standard Kollman is a diversified manufacturer of aircraft instruments, optical equipment, automotive accessories, and elec;;L( ') )\ 20 �July 1969 tronic components. Mr. Taylor and his wife live in Bridgeport, Conn. 1947 The Rev. Samuel B. Bird, Jr. became rector of the Episcopal Church of the Redeemer in Pelham, N.Y. in March. Prior to moving to Pelham, Father Bird was for seven years rector of the Church of the Resurrection in Ilopewe11 Junction, N.Y. 1950 In February, \V. Bernard Ficisclunann, head of the comparative literature program at the University of Massachusetts, gave a series of six lectures (one delivered in German) at the University of Tulsa. Mr. Fleischmann is an ·alumni representative on the Board of Visitors and Governors of the College. 1953 Glenn Yarbrough continues to make news across the country with his popular college concerts and his recordings. He recently recorded a number of songs by poet and composer Rod McKuen, his partner in a recording firm. In addition to his wide-ranging interests in boating, mus~c, and the col1ege generation, Mr. Yarbrough ts deeply involved in founding an experimental school for orphans near Lake Hcmett, California. 1960 Carol Haynie writes that she is in her tenth year of teaching, currently in the Lodi California Unified School District. She teaches a combined first and second grade, and believes that St. John's "did a wonderful job" of preparing her for teaching. John R. Jacobson, for the past year an officer in the division of Continuing Education of_ the State University of New York, Albany, wlll become the executive director of the Associated Colleges of the Mid-Hudson Area this summer. The Association is composed of eight colleges, and is concerned with cooperative programs between the colleges. 1961 Stephen Morrow is bureau manager for United Press International in Baltimore. . Ha~rison Sheppard writes that on April 24 hts wtfe Joy presented him with a baby boy, their first child, Justin Andrew Sheppard. Mr. Sheppard, formerly with the Justice Department, is now Attorney Advisor to Federal Trade Commissioner Philip Elman. 1962 Judith Mary Levine and magazine cartoonist Mort Gerberg were married on February 1 in New York City. Mrs. Gerberg completed her undergraduate work at Columbia University, and holds an M.A. degree in art from New York University. The couple reside in Greenwich Village. 1964 Sara (Hobart) Homeyer writes that husband Charles will enter the military service at (, :;; Three members of the Class of 193 5 meet at the sixth Annual Scholar-Athlete Award Dinner in Baltimore. Left to right a~e: Major Gcner_al George M. Gelston, Adjutant General of Maryland; John C. Donohue, co-chauman of the Dmner; and Colonel James L. Hays, III, director of Selective Service for Maryland. The Dinner is co-sponsored by the Greater Baltimore Chapter of the National Football .Foundation and Hall of Fame, and the Quarterback Club of Baltimore. (Plwto by Chuck Hickey.) an early date. She and son Peter will visit with grandparents until Charles is settled. 1966 The engagement of Richard F. Fielding and Miss Sara E. Melzer was announced in April, with a July wedding planned. Mr. Fielding is a doctoral candidate in political philosophy at the University of Chicago. Carole (Picarda) Kelley writes that she and Loren '67 are "alive and well and in Italy," where he works for an American company on a contract with the Olivetti Corporation. Mrs. Kelley says that it is an interesting experience to set up housekeeping in a t0\\'11 where noone speaks English. The Kelleys live in an old stone house in Ivrea, in the Italian Alps, and may be reached c/o Olivetti D.S.I., 10015 Ivrea, Italy. Peter Morosoff, lst Lieutenant, :Marine Corps, was wounded in Vietnam February 25., by grenades when North Vietnamese soldiers overran a hill being held by Marines three miles below the Demilitarized Zone. Hospitalized- for two weeks in Vietnam and .two weeks in Yokosuka, Japan, he was taken to St. Alban's Naval Hospital in New York City. He visited the College May 21 enroute to Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, where he will be an artillery officer with the Second Marine Division. 1967 Arthur Kungle, Jr., is employed by the Air Quality Control Sec-tion, Division of Environmental Services, Anne Arundel County Health Department. 1968 Donald A. Booth, a visitor to the campus in April, has completed Navy officer training and as of that time, was training in submarines in ,q New London, Conn. Todd Everett (SF) is now free-lancing in Los Angeles. Antigone G. Phalares (SF) taught second and third grades in Tanana, Alaska, this past year. Tanana, about 100 miles northwest of Fairbanks along the Yukon River, has a large Indian population. Miss Phalares, in proper Alaskan spirit, entered and placed second in the 1969 Tanana Winter Carnival Chcechako Dog Race. (For those not raised on Jack London, a cheechako is a tenderfoot in Alaska.) Jonathan Sinnreich and Masha Zager '70 married on December 29, 1968, in New York City. Susan Turnbull (SF) and Eleftherios Zagoras were married last November in Los Angeles. TI1e couple are now living in Athens, Greece, where Mr. Zagoras is with Olympic Airlines. Frederick R. Wicks (SF), who came to St. John's from Alaska, is another alumnus now teaching there. He teaches third and fourth grades in Nondalton, an Indian town about 175 miles southwest of Anchorage. Mr. Wicks plans to enter the Starr King School for the Ministry (Unitarian-Universalist) in Berkeley, California, this coming fall. t-"i ~----------------~ In Memoriam "'1(}W~NEwTON B. CoLLINSON, Edgewater, Md., April 14, 1969. ,.,.-191-5-HERBERT E. Ju:rvrP, Easton, Md., April !6, !969. ·19"3"7-REV. CHRISTIAN NEUJviANN, Ellicott City, Md., May !6, !969. �Woodward Hall, St. John's College, Annapolis, Maryland (Photo by Tomatsu Nakata) e College John's College lapolis, Maryland 21404 Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The College </em>(1969-1981) Description An account of the resource St. John's College's Office of the Dean published <em>The College</em> from 1969 to 1981. The publication superseded <em><a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/37" title="The Bulletin of St. John's College">The Bulletin of St. John's College</a></em>.  <em>The College</em> was in turn continued by <a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/13" title="The St. John's Review"><em>The St. John's Review</em></a> in 1981.  <br /><br />A separate magazine for St. John's alumni titled <em>The College </em>began publication in 2001, continuing <em>The St. John's Reporter</em>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The College" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=12">Items in the The College Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource 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 Santa Fe, NM Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thecollegemagazine 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. 20 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Development Offices of St. John's College Title A name given to the resource The College, July 1969 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1969-07 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Berns, Laurence Felter, Mary P. Parran, Jr., Thomas Trimmer, Maurice Sullivan, Daniel Description An account of the resource Volume XXI, Number 2 of The College. Published in July 1969. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context The_College_Vol_21_No_2_1969 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 The College https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/047da1f8cff6a089b928a3048f257333.pdf 807999648394c93e3a0d3cba87d1f7ae PDF Text Text THE COLLEGE St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland Santa Fe, New Mexico September 1969 \._ l ' ~~ .,._- SPECIAL ISSUE: PRESIDENT'S REPORT �The College Cover: Line conversion of Richard D. \Vcigle (Photo by Bill Johnson, Den''er Post). Inside front cover: i\ k Dowell Hall. The annual Report of the President comprises a major part of this issue of The College. The new format seems particularly appropriate for this, the twentieth anniversary report of President \ V cigk, an cl permits a general review of the past two decades as well as a more detailed report of the year just ended. T'he editors are pleased that the President chose the new magazine as the ,-chicle for this landmark report. The staff of the magazine acknowledges receipt of several manuscripts for possible publication, and hopes to begin the "Question Period" feature in the December issue. Your criticisms arc welcomed. (Eds.) J\ fanaging Editor: I\Iary P. Felter Alumni Editor: Thomas Parran, Jr. Editorial Assistant : Maurice Trimmer Art Editor: Daniel Sullivan, '71 The College is published by the De,·elopment Offices of St. John's College, College Avenue, Annapolis, Maryland 21404 (Julius Rosenberg, Director), and Santa Fe, New Mexico (Frank McGuire, Director); Member, American Alumni Council. President, St. John 's College, Richard D. Weigle. Published four times a year in April, July, September, and December. Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. Vol. XXI September 1969 No. 3 In the September Issue: The Liberal Arts College: Anachronism or Paradigm, by Richard D. \Veigle ....... . 1 The Report of the President 4 News on the Campuses . . 12A Alumni Activities . 12F Twenty Years in Retrospect . 13 Scenes At The College 24 �The Liberal Arts College: Anachronism or Paradigm Commencement Address, The Colorado College, June 2, 1969 By RICHARD D. WEIGLE 'y These are parlous times for the independent liberal arts college. Harbingers of gloom and other Cassandras freely prediot the probable demise of this allegedly anachronistic institution upon the American educational scene. The Darwinian thesis of the survival of the fittest is the ground for such pessimism. How indeed can these relatively small and impecunious colleges withstand the competitive pressures of the giant public and private multiversities and the myriad state normal schools, now respectably redesignated and r.estructured? And what about the epidemic of junior and community colleges now breaking out in every state? \Vith ready access to the public purse, tax-supported institutions bid for students with minimal tuitions and for teachers with enticing emoluments. What hope is there for the traditional liberal arts college, which dominated American higher education until only a few decades ago? As we explore the question of whether the free-standing liberal arts college has outlived its usefulness and los t its relevance, let us go back to the Latin word conlegium or collegium. The root word here is legere, meaning "to choose, to pick, to collect, or to gather together." There is a close connection here to the word collega, "one chosen at the same time," that is, a colleague. A collegium is therefore a group of persons united in colleagueship, a guild, a corporation, or a college. History shows that the word collegium was first applied to hostels for poor students. Apparently the cathedral chapter of Paris established the first college around the vear 1180. It was called The College of the Eighteen. The Sorbonne in Paris; Balliol, Merton, and University Colleges of Oxford; and Peterhouse College at Cambridge followed in the mid-thirteenth centurv. On the Continent the university tended to absorb th~se colleges, but in England the colleges dominated the universities instead. They often provided complete curricula and became teaching institutions rather than simple hostels. It was the British College which provided the model for the young American colleges of the 17th and 18th centuries. Harvard, the first, was started in 1636 under Congregational Church auspices. Its founders were large1 ly Cambridge men from Emmanuel College. Most early American colleges began under church sponsorship. The Episcopalians were involved in founding William and Mary in 1693, the Congregationalists in opening "The Collegiate School" in 1701, later to become Yale. The Presbyterians brought Princeton into being in 1746, and the College of Rhode Island, the forerunner of Brown University, was founded by the Baptists in 1765. Of the 182 colleges which had been born prior to the War between the States, only one in nine was a public institution. The modern university with its correlative emphases upon teaching and research has been a more recent <level: opment. Here the pattern tended to be that of the German university, dating back to the creation of the University of Berlin in 1810. This type of institution came into being in the United States (in the latter part of the 19th century) in places like the Johns Hopkins University and the University of Chicago. Harvard, Yale, and other institutions which had begun as colleges became universities as they added graduate work, oftentimes in areas which had long been considered too technical and too utilitarian for the intellectual life of the scholar. A landmark in American educational history was of course the introduction of the electiv.e system into the undergraduate curriculum by President Eliot of Harvard at the turn of the century. The old liberal arts curriculum built around the trivium of grammar, rhetoric and logic and the quadrivium of arithmetic, music, geometry and astronomy thus yielded to a wide range of subjects, many of them avowedly illiberal and often highly specialized. It may be well at this point to ask ourselves what we understand by the liberal arts, which should be the hallmark of the liberal arts college. The Greek word for such an art is nxv'l, from which the English word "technique" and "technical" are derived. Liberal arts are therefore liberal or liberating skills, skills of the mind. The primary function of these liberal arts or skills has been to mediate man's understanding and to give conscious form to knowledge. In contemporary terms man uses words, or verbal symbols, as he practices such liberal arts as analyz- I �The College ing, thinking, writing, speaking, and deciding. By the same token he uses a set of mathematical symbols as he practices such liberal arts as counting, measuring, deducing, experimenting, and demonstrating. If I may be pardoned one quotation, a paragraph from the Catalogue of your young sister institution in New Mexico seems to state the case rather we11: Knowledge advances and the fundamental outlook of man may change over the centuries, but these arts of understanding remain in one form or another indispensable. They enable men to win knowledge of the world around them and knowledge of themselves in this world and to use that knowledge with wisdom. Under their guidance men can free themselves from the wantonness of prejudice and the narrowness of beaten paths. Under their discipline men can acquire the habit of listening to reason. A genuinely conceived liberal arts curriculum cannot avoid aiming at these most farreaching of a11 human goals. And now let us return to the word "co11ege." The Oxford English Dictionary offers several definitions. A co11ege is termed "an organized society of per~is performing certain common functions and possessing certain rights and privileges, a body of co11eagues, a guild, a fc11owship." I pass over one definition which suggests that a co11ege "often combines, in its original character, the functions of a local charity for the aged, eleemosynary education for the young." It is unlikely that either hard working professors, on the one hand, or high tuitionpaying students, on the other, would appreciate such a definition. It is safer to understand the co11ege as "a society of s~holars formed for the purpose of study and instruction." It is my contention and my faith that the fundamental concept of the liberal arts college is sti11 valid and relevant, and that such a college can indeed provide a paradigm for American education. But there are necessary conditions. The liberal arts co11ege must be true to itself. It must commit itself to its own distinctive program, and it must practice this with integrity. It must not attempt to be a11 things to all men, nor may it seek with impunity to be an inadequate replica of the universality. Its competitive position depends, not upon its similarity to other institutions, but rather upon its uniqueness. All of this means that the liberal arts co11ege must constantly resist pressures, even well-meaning ones, to alter its program. Alumni, the general public, the government, and even the faculty and the students, may exert such pressures. I am not suggesting that the liberal arts co11ege remain static and stagnant. Far from it! My only concern is that such change foster, rather than impede, the liberal learning which should animate the entire institution. In the United States we are fortunate to have a wide range of colleges and universities. The diversity of our institutions of higher education has indeed been a source 2 of strength and vigor m this country. This situation should continue. Without trying to establish any single pattern for our liberal arts co11eges, I would like to set down certain desiderata which might we11 make this particular type of coll.ege more of a paradigm for the education of young men and women over the four years fo11owing their seventeenth or eighteenth birthday. First, the liberal arts co11ege should be a one-purpose institution. Its objective should be the best possible liberal education of undergraduates. Any compromise with vocational and pre-professional training is hazardous, for experience seems to indicate that the camel has a way of moving into the tent. It goes without saying that the liberal arts co11ege should rarely offer graduate work, for it will divert faculty talent and it will prove an expensive appendage. Second, the curriculum ought to be limited in scope and imaginatively conceived. Granted that few faculties or administrators would agree with the St. John's purist position of no electives and no majors, I would propose the next best alternative, a relatively sma11 number of majors with minimum quantitative requirements in each. At the same time I would encourage the offering of such courses as would devdop the ski11s of the student in both the great system of symbols which man has developed and refined-words, on the one hand, and numbers, signs, figures and formulas, on the other. No man or woman is libera11y educated without benig conversant with both. Where possible, I would urge faculties to stress relationships and connections between areas, fields, and courses. T'he primary criterion for the inclusion of any course in the curriculum should be its contribution to developing the thinking skills of the student, not the information to be imparted. Facts are always accessible in any good library. Third, the liberal arts co11ege should concentrate on good teaching. Its faculty members should not be under any compunction to do research or to publish. These are President Weigle receives honorary doctor of laws degree at commencement exercises of The Colorado College, June, 1969 (Photo by Knut- son-Bowers.) �September 1969 functions of th~ university._ Nor should consultantships assignments distract faculty members from thcu pnmary opportunity of classroom teaching. I submit th~t any_ teacher can remain intellectually alive by broadenmg himself through exploring new fields and thus r~discovering. unsuspe~ted implications for his own specialty. He will find his colleagues and his students constant sources of stimulus. Ideallv, he will eschew the lectun:; in class for discussion and clialectic. Only as students and t~acher bot~ participate in questioning, searching, proposmg, analyzmg, and defending will the best liberal teaching a~d learning take place. Parenthetically, I might add that JUSt. a_s the .teacher is not to be diverted by extraneous activity, neither should the student be. Extracurricular engagement, athletic, social or governmental, must never usurp the interest and attention of any studcn t, else the teaching at the liberal arts college has surely failed. A fourth consideration is size. The liberal arts college should be content to remain small and should resist the temptation to grow. ~here is a story that most college presidents, when quest10ned as to the ideal size for their institt~tion, will pr~pose an enrollment 100 larger than then m effect. Addmg a hundred tuition fees is no solution ~o ~ny college's financial dilemma. For a good college 1t simply creates ,t he need for one or two million doll.ars mor~ in endowment. Careful study will determine optmmm size for any liberal arts college from a financial point of view. But even more important is preservation of the sense of community, which is one of the liberal art~ co~leg~'s great.est assets. We are already reaping the \vlurlwmd m certam of our larger institutions where computers and gigantic lecture courses have robbed the studen~ of any feeling that he matters as a person. In the small liberal arts college communicating is possible among students, faculty members, and those much maligned but very necessary characters unhappily known as administrators. A final and most important consideration is independence of action. The liberal arts college can be free of political pressures. Its board of trustees can guarantee responsible academic freedom. Its facultv can be encouraged to ex~eriment wi~h new teaching techniques or new sequences m the cumculum. Its students ,exercise their freedom to study and to learn, with full assurance that the ~aculty and the administration care and that they are mdeed the only reason for the college's existence. Undergraduate education at the liberal arts college under these ~onditions should strongly appeal to faculty and students m other colleges and universities. Should the liberal arts college succeed in what I have proposed _for it-undeviating adherence to its single purpose o~ liberal education, limiting the curriculum, concentratmg on effective teaching, preserving smallness and a real sense of community, and maintaining independence of thought and action-it will indeed become the paraan~ ov~rseas digm to be emulated by other institutions. Witness already the movement in large universities to create small undergraduate colleges within them-the Santa Cruz campus of the University of California and Justin Morrill College of Michigan State University. But the real and lasting effects flowing from a rededication of the liberal arts college to its original commitment will be the influences upon the individual student. You, the members of the Class of 1969 of The Colorado College, stand before us today having completed four yea~s in a liberal arts college. The faculty, the administrative staff, the board, the alumni, and the friends of the liberal arts college have sought to provide you with a place and the conditions where real learning can take p!ace. As we all know, such learning is a highly individual matter. Whether each of you has succeeded in these four years _is not attested to by the diploma you are about to receive, but rather by your own quiet assessment of how well you meet certain criteria which measure a liberal education. Is your mind keener, more imaginative and more versatile as a result of your college experience? Is it simply a storehouse of rapidly disappearing facts, or is it a tool which you can employ with joy and confidence in the years that lie ahead? Are you aware of the tradition in which vou stand and can you therefore live with some perspective of history? Too many people today are ignorant of the minutes of ~he previous meetings. They live in the here and now, an isolated and lonely ,existence, as compared to the richness of man's accumulated heritage. Have yo~ confronted and honestly sought answers to the pers1stmg and baffiing questions of man's existence and his relation to his fellows, to the world around him ~nd to .the divine Force which must have brought him mto bemg, ~ave you the:efore discovered or developed a personal philosophy of hfe that will make living meaningful and satisfying? Finally, do you respect reason and do you have confidence that dialectic-reasonable conversation and communication between rational men and women-can arrive at solutions to problems and can approach the attainment of truth? Eristic-the art of disputation or fighting with words-seems currently fashionable, whether in a tirade fr~m Peking or a confrontation on a college campus. History demonstrates that it is a totally inadequate substitute for dialectic and for reason. · Members of the Class of 1969, I salute you and wish you well as you continue the lifelong process of education. I hope that your four years in college enable you to share my ~onviction tha~ the liberal arts college is hardly archaic and my faith that it can and will provide a paradigm for the future. Richard . D. \Veigle has been President of St. John's College m Annapolis, Maryland, and Santa Fe, New Mexico, since 1949. 3 �The College The Report of the President 1968-1969 Twenty years ago today this Board elected me to the presidency of St. John's College. The prospect was both sobering and challenging to this young college teacher temporarily turned State Department official. St. John's was beset with long-standing debt, aging buildings, and administrative turmoil. Enrollment was declining; regional accreditation had just been denied. But the educational ideas which had produced the St. John's Program were eminently sound. Given the assets of the Program, it seemed that the College must succeed. Now in 1969 St. John 's College stands on firm ground. It has achieved a high degree of administrative and financial stability. The curriculum has evolved into an ever more effective vehicle for the liberal education of both tutors and students. Many promising young teachers have been added to the Faculty. Antiquated buildings have been renovated and new structures added, without detracting from the traditional atmosphere of a colonial college. A sizable endowment has been established. But the most significant development has been the creation of a second St. John's College in Santa Fe. Here an entire new campus has been constructed, with the Annapolis college as a model for curriculum, for teaching techniques, for administrative organization, and for physical facilities. St. John's is, therefore, now two colleges. This fall over 600 students will be enrolled, three times as many as in 1949. Yet the essential character . of the learning experience at St. John's will not have changed. This Board can be justly proud of what it has accomplished in the brief span of two decades. The quality of a St. John's education and the unique plan for expansion through duplication have justly earned national recognition for this college of ours. As you are well aware, the college or university presidency has become a hazardous and precarious post in recent years. The problems facing most presidents still include the traditional ones of faculty recruitment and retention, student nurture and governance, alumni and community relations, state and federal grants, and omnipresent deficits. But a new and profoundly disturbing dimension has been added. A militant and impatient 4 minority of students and junior faculty members have forsaken the means of reason and dialectic and adopted instead the tactics of confrontation, demands, occupation, and force. Presidential casualties have been heavy under harassment, with concomitant faculty vacillation. One of my colleagues suffered a fatal heart attack; numbers have resigned, several from prestigious universities. It is no secret that college and university boards of trustees are now seeking candidates to fill over two hundred presidential vacancies. In contrast to the unrest and disturbances at many other institutions, St. John's College has exhibited over these two decades a remarkable fidelity to its single purpose, an enviable sense of community, and a high degree of accomplishment. During this period -St. John's has in effect been a pilot college demonstrating the effectiveness of educational concepts and ideas which might prove salutary in meeting problems on other campuses. Certain of these principles are here delineated. First, St. John's College has steadfastly adhered to the concept of smallness. It believes that one of its missions is to provide a truly intimate learning community for those young' men and women most likely to profit from it. The College recognizes , that there is no magic in any particular number, but it has held that the nature of the institution would change if enrollments were to grow by even relatively small annual increments. Consequently, St. John's met the problem of expansion in 1964 by the unique method of mitosis. The small college in the mountains of New Mexico may well be a forerunner of other small St. John'ses as yet unborn in various parts of the United States. The faculty and the administrators of St. John's College take vigorous exception to the view that a college must be judged in quantitative terms ap d that the size of a college should be determined only by factors of efficiency of operation. Instead, they believe that learning is an intensely personal experience and that it occurs in each individual as he reacts to his environment and to his opportunities for personal interplay with those around him, both his teachers and his fellow students. The wisdom of the St. John's position is now borne �September 1969 out by the efforts of large universities to break themselves down into small residential colleges of the approximate size of St. John's. A second important tenet of the St. John's philosophy of education is that students should participate fully in their own education. The seminar and the tutorial have proved to be unusually efficacious in achieving one of the College's main goals, that of developing the student's ability to think. Dialectic, courteous and reasonable conversation, both inside and outside the classroom, seeks to approach the truth. Students learn the fine art of listening, an art widely lacking and much needed in this world of conflicting special interests, of lobbying, and of confrontations. In contrast to the passive attitudes of students in large lecture courses, the St. Joh n's student is encouraged to state his own opinions about subjects under discussion in the classroom. He is required to affirm his premises, to meet the reasonable objections of his colleagues, and to reach a reasoned position as a basis for action. It seems clear to me that the failure of the large institutions to involve the student in an active classroom situation is one of the roots of the current discontent which has manifested itself so unhappily on many campuses. A third principle of St. John's College is the conviction that firsthand acquaintanceship with their Western heritage is a prerequisite for young men and women in this or any other. period of time. To be ignorant of what the best minds have thought and written on the wide range of questions and problems which have confronted men over the centuries, is to impoverish one's existence. In all ages men have pondered their relationship with each other, their place in the natural order of the universe, and their relationship to a divine being. They have confronted the problems of the rich and the poor, the strong and the weak, the ruler and the ruled, the just and the unjust. The basic themes persist, regardless of changing circumstances. A dialogue of Plato, a Shakespearean play, or a political treatise by Alexis de Tocqueville often provides unsuspected perspective on matters of immediate concern to present generations. The relevance of such books to the world today is soon apparent to the student. In seeking to understand them he discovers more abiding principles than he would find in a series of elective courses on current problems. Still another fundamental concept to which the College has adhered over the years is that all students should be literate in the mathematics and th~ sciences, as well as in the humanities. Publication of C. P. Snow's book ,Thc Two Worlds and the uncomfortable advent of Sputnik simply confirmed St. John's College in the course which it had chosen to follow in 1937. Unfortunately, our colleges and universities have thus far failed miserably to make the scientist more humane or the humanist more conversant with the sciences. In the closing third of the twentieth century, every intelligent citizen should have enough exposure to the world of science to comprehend both governmental and private developments in this ever-expanding sphere of activity. Finally, St. John's College has adhered steadfastly and single-mindedly to its basic commitment to liberal education. Here it has more than justified David Boroff's designation of it as "the very archetype of liberal education, the pure thing." In the absence of departments and major areas of concentration students do not undertake their studies as a means to a vocational end. Instead, learning becomes a pleasure in itself. Reading, studying, discussing, writing, .e xperimenting, and demonstrating are undertaken because they themselves are found to be both satisfying and stimulating. If St. John's succeeds iJ?. imparting the joy of learning to a young man or woman it will have importantly shaped the rest of his life. Two small St. John's Colleges can never exert the impact which they deserve to upon American higher education. Yet the very presence of these small communities of learning has been a proverbial mustard s.eed, and the Board should not discount the influence which it has exerted. In more than one instance actions taken by St. John's College have subsequently been followed by larger sister institutions. The decision to admit women in 1951 seemed almost sacrilegious at a college which had been exclusively male since 1696. Now nearly two decades 5 �The College later, the trend. toward coeducation among even Ivy League colleg~s ~s pronoll:nced. During my Chairmanship of the Commiss10n on Liberal Education of the Association of American Colleges, intellectual life conferences fam~liarized college presidents and deans with St. John's semmars and caused them to introduce such seminars on ~heir ~o~e campuses. In 1965 the Peace Corps revamped its trammg program for volunteers using as a model the St. John's seminar. Finally, mention should be made of the College's impact upon public education through the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education on the Santa Fe campus. Here teachers, many of them from inner-core city schools or from schools in rural areas, <discover for the first time the Western tradition in which they stand and the effectiveness of the teaching techniques in seminars and tutorials. Elsewhere I have sought to summarize the major developments at St. John's from 1949 to the present. There I have delineated the major changes in the academic progra~1,. the building of a faculty and a student body, the additions. to the College's resources, and its major involvements with the marketplace, the world outside its walls . I am convinced that the education which St. John's College provides has never been more relevant or more necessary than it is today. If the conflicting demands of the various segment3 of this nation's population are to be reconciled and if consideration and reason rather than confrontation and force are to prevail, students must be offered a liberal education, one which meets their deepest needs rather than stirring their angry frustrations. 1949-President ·Weigle and Dean Klein walk to Convocation. The St. John's Deanships The academic year under review was the last for John Spangler Kieffer as Dean of the College. No man has served St. John's in more capacities than he-President, Dean, Board Member, Tutor, and Director of Adult Education-since he and his wife joined the College forty years ago . Mr. Kieffer will continue to serve as Tutor following a sabbatical leave trip to Greece. He retires from the Deanship with the affection and gratitude of the entire college community. On July 1st Robert A. Goldwin assumed the Deanship of the Co.llege and of the Annapolis campus. A St. John's graduate m the Class of 1950, Mr. Goldwin earned both the. M.A.. and .P.h.D . ~egrees from the University of Chicago m Political Science. He was Director of the ~ublic Affairs Conference Center at Chicago before joinmg the Kenyon College faculty in 1966. In 1967 he served as the first Director of the St. John's Graduate Institute in Liberal Education on the Santa Fe campus. I ar:i P.leased to report that \Villiam A. Darkey more than Justified all our high expectations in his first year of the Santa Fe Deanship. He assumed his new duties with imagination, diligence, and perceptiveness. This was the final year for both Assistant Deans, who had served since the opening of the Santa Fe campus. Mr. Robert E. Skeele resigned to accept a deanship at Marlboro College, and Mrs. Ingeborg Lorenz Lang leaves to teach at the Verde Valley School in Arizona. The College owes a par~icular debt of gratitude to these two persons who contributed so much during the institution's formative yea:s. For the coming year John T. Rule will be Acting Assistant Dean for Students and Mrs. Marie Winterhaler the Registrar, Acting Assistant Dean for Administration~ Accreditation of Santa Fe Campus The major development of the year on the Western campus was achievement of full accreditation by the North Central Association of Colleges and Secondary Schools. Previously the Santa Fe campus had been accredited by the Middle States Association of Colleges and S~condary Schools .through the parent campus in Annapolis. The new reg10nal accreditation includes both the bachelor's and master's degrees. The Association asks to receive annual reports for at least three years on enrollments, finances, and the organization and administration of the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education. The Library in Annapolis Meanwhile in the East renovation and enlargement of .Hall, the College Library, was completed durmg the sprmg. A holiday was declared in mid-May and students and staff together accomplished the move of the book collection from temporary quarters in Mellon Hall back into the library building. The relocation of the books ~ oodward 6 �September 1969 ~, was a smooth and efficient operation, thanks to the student volunteers. Miss Charlotte Fletcher, the Librarian, called it "a kind of day of triumph for all of us ." Woodward Hall is now a completely new and func- · tional library within its traditional facade of turn-of-thecentury collegiate architecture. The creati~i~ ~f two ~t~ck floors in the lowered basement and the adiommg addition along King George Street almost doubles the floor space in the library. A formal ceremony of rededication is planned for the afternoon of Homecoming on October 18, 1969. The next task confronting the Librarian is the recruitment of additional trained staff members. This necessity results in part from the resignation of Mrs. Simon Kaplan, who has served loyally and well as Cataloguer since 1948. All the members of the college community are deeply appreciative of Mrs . Kaplan's service over the years. Graduate Institute in Liberal Education On August 14, 1969, the first ,eleven master's degrees were awarded to students who had completed three summers in the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education and who had transferred sufficient credits from other institutions. An appropriate commencement ceremony was held in the Great Hall of the Student Center. Robert Goldwin gave the address. This session marked th~ co1:11pletion of Elliott Zuckerman' s two-year term as Du.ect~r of the Institute. He is to be highly commended for his administration of this new program, \vhich again this year 19 51-The smokestack from the old heating plant topples to the ground on the back campus in Annapolis . attracted nearly a hundred teachers. A new director will be nominated ·at the fall meeting of the Board. Instruction Both Deans report that the teaching throughout the College during the academic year was successfu~ and the morale high. The annual meeting of the Instruct10n Co~­ mittee took place in Santa Fe in mid-March. r~~e pnncipal matter discussed was .a propo:al for revismg ~he Junior and Senior mathematics tutonals and laboratones. This had been worked out by a study group of tutors under the chairmanship of J. \Vinfree Smi th. The pro~ posal was approved and will go into effect next .Y~ar. The Committee also considered the program of admittmg a February freshman class and recommended its cont~n­ uance for another year. Finally, the subject of a thud campus at Oak Ridge, Tennessee was discussed. There was general agreement that the need to assimilate new tutors to the St. Jo.hn's Program would preclude any possible further expansion for at least five years. 1 The Tutors Jacob Klein ended his active. teaching car~er . at St. John's College in June. Appropriately he was mvited to make the address to the graduating class and was presented with a scroll recognizing his immense contributions to the College over the years . Mr. Klein arrived at St. John's as an emigre scholar in 1938. He was Dean for nine years, from 1949 to 1958, and then held an Addison E. Mullikin Tutorship. I shall always be grateful to him for his guidance and counsel during my neophyte years in the presidency. During the year forty faculty members taught on the Annapolis campus. In addition th~e~ retired tuto.rs, Ford K. Brown, Simon Kaplan, and Wilham Kyle Smith, conducted preceptorials. Eva Brann, Alvin Main, and Malcolm Wyatt were on sabbatical leave; Rob~rt Sac.ks w.as given leave to teach at St. Mary's College m Cahforma; and George Berry was granted leave for personal reasons. Gerald E. Bunker and Rosemary Z. Lauer completed their appointments and leave the College for other positions. Eight new appointments have been made on the . Annapolis campus for the fall. Bert Thoms, who taught at St. John's from 1949 to 1954 and has since.been head of the Department of Philosophy at \:Vashmgton and Jefferson College, returns to the Faculty on a tenure appointment. Other appointees are Robert J. ~nd~rso~ , who holds the master's degree from Yale Umversity m Philosophy and has taught a~ Temple. University; Vassilios Christides, a Ph.D . candidate at Prmceton, who has been a Junior Fellow at Dumbarton .Oaks Center for Byzantine Studies; Wye Townsend J~mis.on, . who h.as just completed her Ph.D. at Stanford Umversity m ~usic; Aaron Kirschbaum, a candidate for the Ph.D. m the 7 �The College 1951-A new heating plant is opened in Annapolis. (Photo by M. E. \V arre11 . ) 19 52-A fire damages the Great Hall of McDowell in Annapolis. History of Science at the University of Wisconsin; Robert Mueller, a St. John's graduate in the Class of 1947, who holds a master's degree from Johns Hopkins University in History and who has taught at Armstrong State College in Georgia and Savannah State College; George Vahanian, who was granted the Ph.D. degree from Boston University this summer in Greek Philosophy and Logic; and Ray A. Williamson who received his Ph.D. from the University of Maryland in Astronomy. An exciting innovation on the Annapolis campus is the appointment of the first Scott Buchanan Distinguished Scholar-in-Residence. This chair will be filled by Leo Strauss, eminent political scientist and first incumbent of the Robert Maynard Hutchins Distinguished Service Professorship at the University of Chicago. Mr. Strauss will work at the graduate level with both teaching interns and regular tutors of the College. It is hoped that such work will constitute for these tutors an important renewal of their intellectual capital. In Santa Fe the College's principal effort with respect to the Faculty continues to be the building of a cadre of tutors who are both experienced and versatile in the whole curriculum. This effort implies the discovery of good teachers who understand and are sympathetic to the goals of the St. John's program and are willing to commit themselves to it long enough to become skilled in its content and methods. Financial considerations have thus far precluded giving reduced teaching programs to new tutors. It is planned in the years ahead to try to assign newly appointed faculty members two-thirds teaching schedules in the hope that they will be able to audit other classes and to undertake a more carefully devised program of orientation. At the end of the academic year six tutors left the Santa Fe Faculty: Robert J. Kovacs, Mrs. Ingeborg Lorenz Lang, Bill K. Mathews, Jr., George B. Miller, Robert E. Skeele and Dr. Julius 'Vilson. Dr. Wilson, who during his service as College physician also taught one laboratory section, will go into full retirement. Thomas J. Slakey was on sabbatical leave and Clarence J. Kramer on leave of absence. For the coming academic year three new members of the Faculty have received appointments: Glenn A. Freitas, who holds a number of degrees from Laval University and from the Pontifical Biblical Commission in Rome and who has been a professor at St. Mary's College in California; Ralph J. Quintana, who has an M.A. from the University of Colorado and has been a professor of history at Highlands University; and Robert D. Sacks, of the Annapolis campus. 8 The Students Enrollment on the two campuses this year exceeded 560. In marked contrast to last year, the Santa Fe campus experienced a high rate of attrition, while the Annapolis campus ended the year with more students than were enrolled initially. The Annapolis record is attributable to a very high retention rate and to the enrollment of a February freshman class of 22 students. As Dean Darkey notes in his report, attrition tends to be regarded as an index to the health of the college community and to the adequacy of its functioning. The Dean wisely points out that such judgments must be made with caution. A "successful" student is not always one who takes the A.B. degree, though naturally the College holds that the program is a four-year entity. The Admissions staff is therefore right in exploring those characteristics in prospective students which are the most reliable predictors of active and fruitful involvement in the College. To the individual faculty member a low rate of retention may mean his own failure or that of his colleagues, or perhaps the failure of methods and materials of the curriculum. Such inferences may be correct in a particular �September 1969 case, but in most cases they are probably not. The danger is that such assumptions might produce a climate for endless trivial tinkering with the curriculum. In colleges as small and intimate as the two St. John's colleges the answer probably lies in better teaching, better counseling, and a more supportive social structure in the college community. Dean Darkey suggests that the climate of the learning community might be improved through more consistently serious academic demands of the students. In analyzing this whole situation it is important not to overlook the general climate of unrest that deeply affects all young persons today. St. John's College, by its very nature, attracts intelligent and articulate students who are sensitive to the dilemmas and pressures of our times-the ill-starred war in Vietnam, the blight of urban poverty, the continuing racial conflict, and so on. Some students certainly leave because of these pressures. It is significant, however, that many who do so proclaim their desire to return, and indeed often do return. It seems to me a great tribute to the College and its educational program that in a ,period of general student unrest and unhappy confrontation the two St. John's campuses have demonstrated the value and effectiveness of genuine communication between student and tutor, of mutual respect among all members of the community, and of serious involvement in the ongoing educational program of the college. The distribution of the students among the several classes on each campus was as follows: Annapolis Freshmen February Freshmen Sophomores Juniors Seniors Totals Total 46 39 19 Women 69 9 25 23 21 176 147 323 74 29 21 21 45 29 10 11 119 58 31 32 145 95 240 321 242 563 Men 59 13 128 22 71 suspended on both campuses for engaging m further unilateral liberalization. For a second year at Santa Fe, Stuart Boyd, of the Faculty, administered and supervised a Title I Project in Youth Opportunities and Social Problems. The project sought to establish relations with various community agencies and institutions and to train students to work with them in varying conditions and stresses. Some two dozen students were successfully involved as week-end workers at the New Mexico State Hospital, as summer group workers and tutors with Young Citizens for Action, as case-work aides in the Division of Child Welfare of the Department of Health, and as part-time teacher-aides at Acequia Madre and Manderfield Public Schools. One student founded a tutoring organization which enlisted volunteers from the two colleges and high schools in town to work with slow and deprived boys and girls. One tragic event saddened the Annapolis college community and shocked the people of the city. Anne Bradley, a junior from Brookline, Massachusetts, left her dormitory after curfew to get a snack. She was subsequently found murdered on the State House lawn. Her assailant has never been discovered. The Administration redoubled its warning to students on both campuses to exert the utmost caution in walking both on and off campus after dark. A relatively small number of A.B. degrees were awarded on the Annapolis campus. Thirty-five seniors received degrees, one of them magna cum faude and six of them cum faude. The second commencement on the Santa Fe campus witnessed the awarding of two degrees magna cum laude, four degrees cum faude and 22 degrees rite. 1953-The important senior oral is filmed for a movie on St. John's College. (Photo by M . E. Warren.) 62 40 Santa Fe Freshm~n Sophomores Juniors Seniors Totals Grand Total Student morale on both campuses was good. Particular note should be made of the excellent service of Christopher Nelson, a junior, who served for the second year as Executor of the Student Polity at Annapolis. His leadership made the Polity a significant factor in the College's life. Rules of Residence continue to be a problem in spite of the liberalized visiting permitted between the hours of noon and midnight. Some students were 9 �The College Class of 1973 r I I Both Directors of Admission report capacity entering classes this fall. Over 500 final applications for admissions were received, 246 for Annapolis and 263 for Santa Fe. Those accepted appear to be an able and interesting group. For Annapolis 613 were in the top fifth of their graduating class, for Santa Fe 693 were in this category. Median Scholastic Aptitude Test scores for Annapolis entrants were verbal-696 and mathematical-661, for Santa Fe, verbal-643 and mathematical-593. The geographical distribution of the 250 incoming freshmen shows that 38 states, the District of Columbia, and five foreign countries are represented (In each case the first figure is for Annapolis, the second for Santa Fe): Alabama Alaska Arizona Arkansas California Colorado Connecticut Delaware District of Columbia Georgia Illinois Indiana Kansas Kentuckv Louisian; 3 7 I I I 5 I I I I 2 6 I 30 12 Maryland 8 Massachusetts 6 Michigan 3 Minnesota 2 Mississippi 2 Missouri 2 Nebraska I Nevada New Jersey 5 New Mexico New York 18 3 N. Carolina 4 I N. Dakota I I Ohio 6 Oklahoma 2 Oregon 2 4 I I 2 25 6 I 5 I Penn2 sylvania 13 Rhode Island I S. Dakota I Texas 2 12 Vermont I Virginia 8 Washington I \i\T.est Virginia Great Britain I Greece I HongKong I Spain I Venezuela I Again this past year prospective students were encouraged to visit the two campuses, live in the dormitories and attend classes. A record number of 250 took advantage of this opportunity in Annapolis, half of whom subsequently applied. Santa Fe had 191 student visitors, 125 of whom applied and 70 of whom are enrolled in the Class of 1973. The future recruitment program of the College undoubtedly will benefit from the fact that the fiftieth annual meeting of the Country Day School Headmasters AssociMion was held on the Santa Fe campus in late June. Fifty-nine current headmasters from coast to coast attended, many of them with wives and children. All participants expressed in extravagant terms their appreciation of St. Joh n's College, the beauty of its campus, and the hospitality of its staff. Administrative Personnel . In addition to appointments already mentioned for the Annapolis campus, Julius Rosenberg, of the Class of 1938, was appointed Director of Development; Mrs. Mary Jean Felter, Director of Publicity; and Mrs. Violet Keily, secre- 10 19 55-The historic Carroll-Barrister House is moved through Annapolis streets to St. John's campus. (Photo by M. E. Warren.) tary in the Development Office. M rs. Vicki Cone, of the Class of 1968, was appointed Library Assistant, succeeding Miss Anne Wright. Mrs. Vaughnita Benda became mimeographer, replacing Mrs. Barbara Littler, and M .rs. Theresia McGuire secretary to the Assistant Deans after Mrs. Roberta Henke resigned. Mrs. Pauline Fowler resigned in June to be married. She had serve~ faithfully and competently as College Nurse for seven years. At Santa Fe James P. Shannon, who resigned from his ecclesiastical duties as Auxiliary Bishop of Minneapolis and St. Paul, was appointed by the Board to be Tutor and Vice-President for the coming academic year. Mr. Shannon was Visiting Lecturer during the second semester. He will now teach a Greek tutorial, counsel with students, and assist the Dean and me in administrative and development matters. Mr. Shannon holds the Ph.D. degree from Yale University in American studies. For ten years he was President of the College of St. Thomas in St. Paul and in 1966 was Chairman of the Association of American Colleges. Major personnel changes were made in the Library on the Santa Fe campus during the course of the year. George Miller, the Librarian, left in January for health reasons. Alice Whelan, Assistant Librarian, was appointed Acting Librarian. Her former position was filled in June by the appointment of Mrs. Sara Douglas. Finally, Mrs. Marilyn Copelan became Circulation Librarian, succeeding Mrs. Carolyn Mathews . Dr. Julius Wilson, who had served conscientiously and sympathetically as College Physician since the opening of the new campus, decided to retire. For the coming year Dr. Robert Scott has been appointed. Dr. Scott is moving �Sep tern ber 1969 his place. The Alumni Award of Merit this year was presented to Major General George M. Gelston, of the Class of 1935, Adjutant General of Maryland. The Alumni Annual Giving Campaign was launched in December after careful planning and organization. It concluded with a telethon in the Maryland-Virginia-D. C. area in June, when over 300 alumni were telephoned by volunteers. Participation was the best on record. Six hundred twenty-nine a.Jumni contributed $20, 700 for the general purposes of the College. Many became King William Associates by contributing $100 or more. In addition, alumni gifts for scholarship endowment totaled $36,570, for memorial endowments $74,441, and for the physical plant $15,146. The aggregate of all alumni gifts, including bequests, was $146,847. Finances 19 59-President Dwight David Eisenhower gives dedicatory address in the auditorium of Francis Scott Key Memorial Hall. (Photo by M. E. \Varren .) his practice to Santa Fe from Indianapolis. In the Business Office Henry Salazar was succeeded by Jam es Carr, who had previously worked for an accounting firm in Breaux Bridge, Louisiana. Other appointments on the western campus are Charles Webb, Bookstore Manager, Mrs. Stephanie Roberts-Hohl, secretary to the Dean, and Miss Vivian Heye, Senior Resident in the Women's Dormitory complex. The Alumni Homecoming in October marked the culmination of a useful two-year study of Alumni-College Relations. Direct results of this study were activation of chapters of the Alumni Association in New York, Philadelphia and San Francisco, delivery of a Friday night Alumni Lecture by Richard Massell, of the Class of 1965, alumni involvement in the counselling of seniors, and participation in the program to recruit new students. The new publication, The College, was well received. It is expected to bring alumni and other friends of St. John's excerpts of lectures, papers, and news from both campus.es. Daniel L. Henry, of the Class of 1961, was elected Pr.esident of the Alumni Association, succeeding Julius Rosenberg when Mr. Rosenberg became the College's Director of Development. John D. Oosterhout, of the Class of 19 51, was elected to a three-year term on the Board of Visitors and Governors, succeeding Edward A. Kimpel, Jr., of the Class of 1931. Cyril R . Murphy, Jr., of the Class of 1936, was re-elected but resigned for personal reasons. The Board of Directors of the Alumni Association named Samuel H. Desch, of the Class of 1936, in It is gratifying to report that both cam puses completed the fiscal year with a modest excess of income over expenditure. In Annapolis income from all sources amounted to $1,522,988, as compared with total expenditures of $1,507,492. This left a surplus of $15,496, in contrast to the deficit of $25,433 a year ago. The Santa Fe figures showed aggregate expenses of $1,429,068 against income totaling $1,435,769. The surplus of $6,701 was applied against the cumulative deficit of $198,809 incurred during the first four years of the new college's operation. A major change in investment policy was adopted by the Board during the year. Under the new procedure known as the total-yield concept, a certain portion of growth in the portfolio is considered to be part of the income available for current use. For the next fiscal year a figure of 63 was s.et as a realistic and reasonable return on the portfolio from both dividends and appreciation. During the winter the Board appointed Goldman, Sachs and Company, of New York City, and T. Rowe Price and Associates, of Baltimore, as investment advisers. Responsibility for the investment of the portfolio was divided equally between them. The Decade of Development During the year the Decade of Development was rescheduled to correspond to the first ten years of the new college's life, from July 1, 1964 through June 30, 1974. The Western Consolidation Campaign, as the second phase of this progral)1 began July 1, 1968, with a revised goal of $3.5 millions. During this first year of the campaign a total of $556,469 was obtained in new gifts and pledges, just one-sixth of the amount to be raised within a three-year period. The smaller and more realistic goal resulted from the necessity of substituting a $600,000 administration building for the $1,000,000 physical education building. The expanding enrollment has placed great stress on available teaching facilities. The administration building 11 �The College would release to instructional use at least three classrooms, ten faculty offices, and nine dormitory rooms presently occupied by administrative personnel. Revised preliminary plans are now being drawn. An initial grant of $100,000 toward the cost of the building has been voted by the Trustees of the Max Fleischmann Foundation of Reno, Nevada. Frank ~kGuire, Director of Development, has made notable progress in involving the Santa Fe community through a sustained information and public relations program. In this he has been helped immensely by the appointment of Maurice E. Trimmer as Director of Public Information . A steady flow of news releases and publications has emanated from Mr. Trimmer's office. The Boards of Associates in Santa Fe, Albuquerque, Los Alamos and Denver have met with tutors, students, and members of the staff. The Friends of the Library Committee sponsored a highly successful series of Book and Author Luncheons which drew hundreds of people and redounded to the credit of St. John's. In fact, such a favorable climate of opinion had been created that the College successfully survived a grossly unfair allegation of drug activity in a Santa Fe County Grand Jury report. Legal recourse in the court resulted in the expunging of the Grand Jury's unsupported charge from the record, to the gratification of the College's friends. Meanwhile, in Annapolis, Julius Rosenberg, Director of Development, sought to reactivate the Friends of St. John's College. Richard F. Blaul, of the Class of 1932, an Annapolis businessman, served as Chairman pro tern. A preview tour and reception at the new Woodward Hall drew well over 125 friends in June. A monthly series of events at the College is contemplated for the coming year. Initial steps have been taken to develop Friends of St. John's College in Baltimore and in Washington. Mrs. Felter has done a fine job in making news of St. l 965-A Peace Corps hut adorns the back campus by the boathouse. 1963-President Weigle watches the construction of the Student Center in Santa Fe. John's available to the various media and in editing and in producing the publications of the College. Mrs. Felter is Managing Editor of The College; Laurence Berns and James M. Tolbert, of the Faculty, are respectively Editor and Editorial Consultant. Considerable good will was generated in the Annapolis area when tl:ie College made available its facilities for the annual Annapolis Fine Arts Festival in June. Mr. Rosenberg spent considerable time during the winter months in an effort to obtain a matching grant of $600,000 from the Maryland General Assembly toward the cost of constructing a new physical education building between the heating plant and College Creek. The project failed, largely because of the mood of economy in the legislature. It is planned to make another effort by introducing a new bill next January. Meanwhile preliminary architectural planning for the structure is being clone by the firm of Cochran, Stephenson & Donkervoet of Baltimore. Gifts, Grants, and Bequests It is interesting to note that over $20,000,000 has been received by St. John's College over the past twenty years, for an average of a million a year. The greatest continuing measure of support has come from the Trustees of Old Dominion Foundation, whose grants over the period exceed $8 millions for current purposes, for endowment, for new construction, and for debt liquidation. The strength and vitality of the St. John's enterprise today is attributable in no small measure to the magnificent support which Paul Mellon and Old Dominion Foundation have given the College over the years. During the year under review a total of $1,652,813 was received in gifts, grants and bequests to the two St. John's campuses. In addition, gifts in kind, including land, to 12 �NEWS ON THE CAMPUSES GRADUATE INSTITUTE AWARDS FIRST DEGREES St. John's College in Santa Fe reached another important milestone in its five-year history on Thursday, August 14th, with the awarding of the first advance degrees by its Graduate Institute in Liberal Education. Eight students from New Mexico and three from Maryland received the Master of Arts degree from St. John's president Richard D. \rVeigle at ceremonies in the Great Hall: New Mexico -Albuquerque, Miss Rachel Ann Colvard and L. Luis Lopez; Encino, Ernest Archibeque; Los Alamos, Mrs. Eliza beth Ann Aiello and Miss Helen ]. Starling; Santa Fe, Mrs. Lee Langspecht Bowen, Mrs. Kathleen Hamilton, and Frank McGuire. (Mr. McGuire is Assistant to the President and Director of Development in Santa Fe.) Maryland- ] oseph G. Gardiner and William Yannuzi of Baltimore, and Francis A. Tewey of Reisterstown. Robert A. Goldwin, Dean of St. John's College, spoke to the graduates and the audience on the theme of "smallness and greatness." He said the motto of St. John's and the Graduate Institute should be "Contemplate greatness: Think small." "There seems to be an observable affinity of smallness and greatness and therein lies a practical problem. Our times are not at all congenial to smallness. . . . there is now a real danger that the study of human greatness will be lost, as all the activity of the world becomes mechanized, computerized and enlarged." T'he Graduate lnstitue was opened on the St. John's campus in the summer of 1967 with the assistance of the Carnegie Corporation, primarily to give school teachers the opportunity for a liberal education and to extend the ideas of the liberal arts into the public education system. A five-year grant of $161,000 has helped the Institute to provide financial aid for teachers from ghetto and rural area schools who wish to enroll in the program. First graduates of The Graduate Institute in Liberal Education and faculty and friends listen to commencement address by Robert A. Goldwin, Dean of St. John's College. Mr. Goldwin was the first Director, and he was succeeded by Elliott Zuckerman, also of the Annapolis faculty, in 1968 and 1969. The four study sections are Literature, Politics and Society, Philosophy and Theology, and Mathematics and Natural Science. The successful completion of all of the sections over four summers may earn a Master's degree. Or, as in the case of these first graduates, one can receive a degree after completion of three of the eight-week s.essions, plus nine hours from another graduate school. Mr. Goldwin urged the graduates, most of whom are teachers, to be "doers" in the greatest sense of the word. He noted that Socrates never built a building, wrote a book, or made a profit, but "what he made, what he did, what he shaped and brought to life has endured longer and had more influence for the good than any work of any other mortal man. He made not just a building or a city or even just an .e ra-but an entire civilization, a world." There were about 95 students in the Graduate Institute this year. They responded enthusiasticaly to the liberal arts-great books program with such comments as: "I like the vigorous expectation that the texts will be understood and the freedom given to meet that expectation." "I have learned more about how to teach from watching the tutors . . . than I learned in the numerous 'methods' courses that I have been exposed to over the years." "What I like best is that it is tremendously flattering to have people care about what I think." " ... makes learning a joyful experience because it emphasizes thinking as opposed to fact finding." 12A �~ I I I The College Six TuToRs AND ONE TEACHING INTERN JOIN II ANNAPOLIS FACULTY 1~· .1 Six new tutors and a teaching intern will join the Annapolis faculty this fall. They are Robert J. Anderson, Vassilios Christides, Wye T. Jamison, Aaron Kirschbaum, Robert Mueller, George Vahanian, and Ray A. Williamson. Mr. Anderson received his A.B. in philosophy from Temple University in 1961 and his M.A. in philosophy from Yale University in 196~. He presently is completing his doctoral dissertation, a commentary on Plato's Theaetetus, and working for the New York City Department of Welfare. Mr. Christides received a diploma in classics from the University of Athens in 1955 and a M.A. in oriental studies from the University of California in Los Angeles in 1961, and is a Ph.D. candidate in the department of oriental studies at Princeton University. He taught classics in Greece and at the University of California at Los Angeles. In 1965 he received the honor of a junior fellowship at the Dumbarton Oaks Center for Byzantine Studies in Washington, D.C. Miss Jamison graduated magna cum laude from Vassar College with her B.A. in classics in 1964 and received her M.A. in musicology from Stanford University in 1965. At Stanford she is completing her doctoral dissertation, "Dance as a Topic in the Operas of Mozart." At Vassar she was awarded the Francis Walker prize for proficiency in piano. In 1964 she received a '"oodrow Wilson Fellowship, and Stanford Fellowships in 19661967. She was a teaching assistant in music appreciation, history, and theory from 1967 to 1969. Mr. Kirschbaum received a B.A. in political science in 1964 from the City College of New York and a M.A. in the history of science in 1969 from the University of Wisconsin. His dissertation is entitled "Gaston Bachelaireand the Psychoanalytical Critique of Science." He was a teaching assistant 12B in the history of science and European cultural history at the University of Wisconsin from 1965 to 1968, and a correspondence instructor at a University of Wisconsin extension from 1964 to 1968. Recently he became chairman of the University of Wisconsin Teaching Assistants Association. Honors received include two years as a University Fellow under the auspices of William Freeman Viles and the Ford Foundation. Author and coauthor with Dr. R. Wagner of two books on geometry, Mr. Kirschbaum has also been active in local politics, working with the Wisconsin Alliance Party, devoted to the causes of peace and freedom. Mr. Mueller, a 1947 St. John's College graduate, studied at the New School for Social Research before obtaining his M.A. from the Johns Hopkins University in 1951. From 1961 to 1962 and from 1964 to 1965 he was an assistant professor of history at Armstrong College in Savannah, Georgia, and from 1968 to 1969 he was an assistant professor of social science at Savannah State College. From 1962 to 1964 and 1966 to 1967 he studied at the University of Chicago under the Committee on the History of Culture. Mr. Vahanian, the teaching intern, received a B.A. in 1963 from Washington and Jefferson College and a M.A. in 1967 from Boston University. He expects to receive his Ph.D. this year from Boston University. His disserfation is entitled "The Relation between Zeno of Elea and Euclid's Elements." He taught philosophy and logic at Tufts University, Calvin College, and Boston University. Mr. Williamson received a B.A. in physics from the Johns Hopkins University in 1961 and a Ph.D. in astronomy from the University of Maryland in 1968. He was a teaching assistant in physics and a research assistant in physics at the University of Maryland before obtaining a three-year NASA traineeship in 1963. Recently he was an assistant astronomer at the University of Hawaii. His wife, Abby, taught at the Key School from 1963 to 1966. Paul Mellon, 1944 LIBRARY REDEDICATION AND BOARD MEE TING SET FOR HOMECOMING WEEKEND The Board of Visitors and Governors will meet with Mrs. Margaret Driscoll as chairman on Friday, October 17th, and Saturday, October 18th, during homecoming weekend in Annapolis. On Saturday the library, Woodward Hall, will be rededicated with Paul Mellon, Class of 1944, giving one of the addresses. Woodward Hall was originally constructed in 1900 and was recently completely renovated. Further details concerning homecoming activities may be found in the alumni news. NEW PERSONNEL HIRED IN SANTA FE New faculty members in Santa Fe include Glenn Alan Freitas, Ralph G. Quintana, and Robert D. Sacks. Istvan F ehervary has been made director of student activities, and John T. Rule and Mrs. Marie Winterhaler are assistant deans. Mr. Freitas received his B.A. from St. Mary's CoUege of California in 19 57. From 1960 to 1964 he studied at the Universite Laval in Quebec, re- �Sep tern ber 1969 ,-· ceiving a licentiate in theology. From 1964 to 1966 he studied at Ecole Biblique ,et archeologique Francaise de Jerusalem. In 1965 he obtained the baccalaureate and in 1966 a licentiate in Sacred Scripture and Pontifical Biblical Commission in Rome. From 1957 to 1960 Mr. Freitas was an instructor in classical languages at Garces Memorial High School in Bakersfield, California, and an assistant professor of theology at St. Mary's College from 1967 to 1969. He was also a member of the Instruction Committee and Faculty Library Committee at the college. Mr. Quintana, a cum laude graduate of Williams College in 1947, was a Tying Scholar, and Phi Beta Kappa. In 1966 he received his M.A. in history from the University of Colorado and is a doctoral candidate at the university. From 1946 to 1949 he was an instructor at Williams and from 1953 to 1958 he was a master at the Fountain Valley School in Colorado Springs. He also was a master of the Hebron Academy in Maine (19591961) and the Denver Country Day School (1963-1966). He comes to St. John's after teaching history as an assistant professor at New Mexico Highlands University. Mr. Sacks, a 1994 graduate of St. John's College, received his Ph.D. from The Johns Hopkins University in 1963. From 1954 to 1956 he studied at Hebrew University in Jerusalem, from 1956 to 1957 at Ecole des Langues Orientales Vivantes, and from 1957 to 1959 at the University of Chicago. Mr. Sacks is familiar to Annapois as he tutored at St. John's from 1961 to 1968. In 1968 he taught at St. Mary's College in California. Mr. Fehervary is a graduate of the Hungarian Air Force Academy. He studied engineering at the University of Budapest and was a member of the Hungarian Olympic team in fencing and ·modern pentathlon in 1946-1947. He was editor of an English and French newspaper in Vienna from 19 57 to 1964. In 1962 he founded the Europa Club for Sport and Cultural Activities in Vienna. From 1966 to 1969 he served as chairman of the physical education program for the American School of Tangier. Mr. Rule, who has been a parttime tutor in Santa Fe, retired in 1966 from Massachusetts Institute of Technology where he had been dean of stud en ts and professor. He received his training at M.I.T. and Harvard. Mrs. Winterhaler, who has been serving as registrar and executive secretary, is a graduate of Oberlin College and also attended the University of Puerto Rico. She spent her early school years in Germany and Switzerland. BOARD MEMBER JOINS FACULTY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA St. John's College Board member Louis T. Rader became chairman of the electrical engineering department of the University of Virginia in Charlottesville on September 1st. Dr. Rader is also the Alice M. and Guy A. Wilson professor of electrical engineering and professor of business administration. He was a vice president of General Electric Company and general manager of its communications and control division, Charlottesville. Dr. Radar received his B.A. in electrical engineering from the University of British Columbia and his M.A. and Ph.D. from California Institute of Technology. His former positions include director of the electrical engineering department of Illinois Institute of Technology, president of the Univac Division of Sperry Rand Corporation, and group vice president and director of the International Telephone and Telegraph Corporation. He serves on the Blue Ridge Community College advisory board, the Robert A. Taft Institute of Government board of trustees, the advisory engineering committee at Lafayette College, and the industry advisory committee of the University of Virginia's Graduate School of Business Administration. Dr. Rader has been a member of the St. Joh n's Board of Visitors and Governors since 1961. Louis T. Rader (Photo by Fabian Bachrach) SANTA FE GRANTED NORTH CENTRAL ACCREDITATION President Weigle announced in August that the Santa Fe campus was granted accreditation by tpe Commission on Colleges and Universities of the North Central Association of Colleges and Secondary Schools. The Santa Fe campus had been accredited by the Middle States Association of Colleges and Secondary Schools ever since the southwestern campus opened in 1964. Chairman of the visting committee of the North Central Association was John J. Pruis, president of Ball State University. Committee members were William Bentsen, vice president of the Associated Colleges of the Midwest; Edward B. Espenshade, chairman of the department of geography of Northwestern University; and Clarence L. Golightly, special assistant to the vice chancellor of the Milwaukee campus of the University of Wisconsin. President Weigle expressed the gratification of both the Board of Visitors and Governors and the Faculty that the Santa Fe campus had won its independent accreditation within the brief span of five years. 12C �The College j, ST. JOHN'S BRINGS ANNAPOLIS AND SANT A FE CIVIC OFFICIALS TOGETHER I East and West met on Friday, August 8th, in Santa Fe-with a strong assist from St. John's President. Mayor Roger Moyer of Annapolis and Mayor George Gonzales of Santa Fe sat down together with members of their respective city councils to discuss mutual problems. Despite the differences in cultural backgrounds and geographic locations of their cities, these civic leaders found they share many similar interests and concerns. The joint meeting was the idea of President Weigle, who is chairman of the Maryland Commission on the Capital City, which sponsored the trip for the Annapolis delegation. Both cities are distinctly rich in history, Weigle noted, Annapolis going back to the English colonial period and Santa Fe, the oldest capital city in the United States, still bearing the marks of its Spanish founding. Each has developed historic zoning ordinances, is trying to adapt urban renewal aims with its unique traditions, and is located near a large metropolitan area. The Annapolis visitors were given a tour of Santa Fe by John Gaw Meem, member of the College's Board of Visitors and Governors and donor of the site of the Santa Fe campus. They had lunch at St. John's with Santa Fe officials, conferred at the city hall in the afternoon and were guests of the Weigles for dinner at Chimayo, a nearby village. Several of them afterwards enjoyed a performance of the San ta Fe Opera. Annapolis participants, besides Mayor Moyer, included City Attorney Eugene Lerner, council members Noah A. Hilman, Robert L. Spaeth (of the St. John's faculty), John T. Chambers, and Roscoe J. Parker, along with commission members Senator John W. Steffey and C. Hayes Duvall. :Mesdames Chambers, Lerner, Steffey, and Duvall accompanied their husbands. Santa Fe Mayor Gonzales was joined bv council members Alfonso Larragoite, Lee Rubenstein, and Reynaldo Torres, and City Manager Marion Sebastian. ANNAPOLIS FRIENDS HOLD RECEPTION FOR CLASS OF 1973 A reception in honor of the members of the Class of 1973 was hosted by the Annapolis Friends of St. John's Annapolis and Santa Fe city councils gather outside St. John's College in Santa Fe. I on Sunday, September 28th, in Francis Scott Key Memorial Hall. Chairman of the Steering Committee of the Annapolis Friends is Richard F. Blaul, Class of 1932. The reception also formally introduced to the Annapolis community the new academic dean, Robert A. Goldwin, a 1950 cum faude graduate of the College. SANTA FE RECEIVES $100,000 GIFT FOR CONSTRUCTION OF ADMINISTRATION BUILDING The Fleischmann Foundation of Reno, Nevada, has voted a grant of $100,000 toward the planned Administration Building for the Santa Fe campus. The new building, which is expected to cost $500,000, will enable the College to release space now occupied by administrative offices in the Evans Science Laboratory and the women's dormitory. It is hoped that federal funds will cover half the total construction cost and that private gifts will make up the difference. FEBRUARY FRESHMEN VIEW ORIOLE VICTORY The s.econd "February freshmen" class, which was enrolled on the Annapolis campus during the summer months, had the pleasure of attending an Oriole game on Thursday, July 24th. Seventeen of the twenty freshmen accompanied by President Weigle, Assistant Dean and director of the summer program Robert L. Spaeth, and Tutor John Sarkissian, were hosted by Jerold C. Hoffberger, Chairman of the Board of Baltimore Baseball Club, Inc. Before the game the freshmen ate dinner in the Hit'N Run Club at Memorial Stadium. NATIONAL HEADMASTERS GROUP MEETS AT SANTA FE 11 Officials and members of the Country Day School Headmasters Association of the United States gathered in Santa Fe from Thursday, June 19th, through Saturday, June 21st, for the I 12D �Sep tern ber 1969 organization's fiftieth national conference. It was the first meeting in the southwest for the association, which usually convenes on eastern campuses. The fifty-nine headmasters and their families seemed immensely pleased with St. John's and their experience there. Thev lived in the student residences and were able to take advantage of such campus facilities as the riding horses and tennis courts between sessions. The College also helped to provide them with tours of the Los Alamos Scientific Laboratory and the Bandelier Indian Cliff Dwellings. ANNAPOLIS CAMPUS HOSTS CONFERENCES AND ANNAPOLIS FINE ARTS FESTIVAL A Maryland Workshop on Crime and Corrections was held on the Annapolis campus from Friday, June 13th, through Sunday, June 22nd. The conference, first of its kind in the East, was under the direction and sponsorship of the National College of State Trial Judges and the (Maryland) Governor's Commission on Law Enforcement and the Administration of Justice. The U. S. Department of Health, Education and \Velfare supported it with a grant of $67,000. The workshop was directed by a group of California social scientists known as The Berkelev Associates. In attenc:fance at the conference were judges, policemen, legislators, lawyers, correctional officers, and a few private citizens. Twenty-one convicts also participated on an equal basis with the lawmen. Each morning the convicts presented a psychodrama on aspects of prison life such as homosexuality, extortion, and drugs. During the afternoons groups analyzed the issues raised during the morning dramas and discussed how to solve them. Dr. Richard Korn, professor in the Criminology School of the Universitv of California at Berkeley, guided the convicts through the psychodramas. A public defender, Douglas Rigg, and Dr. David Fogel, former director of juvenile institutions in Marin County, California, helped Dr. Korn organize the conference. Dr. Fogel said its purpose was to acquaint officials with what really goes on in prisons, and to inform convicts on what basis officials make decisions. The seventh annual Annapolis Fine Arts Festival was held on Saturday:, June 21st, and Sunday, June 22nd. A fine arts exhibit including twentyfive photographic prints from the collection of Ansel Adams was displayed in Iglehart Hall. Art and sculpture from more than five states was shown. A youth choral workshop concert was directed by Warner Lawson, dean of the college of fine arts and the school of music of Howard University, on the back campus on Sunday. A youth symphony workshop concert concluded the festival Sunday evening. Directed by Harry John Brown, music professor at New York State University, the concert featured Gary Karr, a double bassist. Each year the Annapolis Fine Arts Festival is sponsored by the Annapolis Festival Foundation, Inc. The Sciences and Systems Division of the Rockville, Maryland, laboratory of TRACOR, Inc., held a meeting on Monday, June 23rd, and Tuesday, June 24th, in Annapolis. Conferees discussed the basic purpose and approach of a report concerned with defining the most advanced techniques in controlling pollution through computer modeling. The report will be the end result of a $34,000 contract recently awarded by the Federal Water Pollution Control Administration to TRACOR's Ocean Sciences and Water Resources Section. Dr. William H. Espey, manager of the firm's Hydrospace Program, is supervisor of the contract, and Richard J. Callaway is project director. An all-day conference for Maryland law enforcement officers on the problem of narcotics called by Maryland Governor Marvin Mandel took place on Thursday, August 7th. About 150 officials including chiefs of police from towns around the State, State police barracks commanders, and security officials from Maryland's major industrial and business concerns were in attendance. The purpose of the seminar was to permit an exchange of information between Federal narcotics officials and Maryland law enforcement personnel on the latest advances and newest developments in the nation-wide war on drug abuse. Panel participants were Donald D. Pomerleau, commissioner of the Baltimore City Police Department; Colonel Robert J. Lally, superintendent of the Maryland State Police; Joseph G. Cannon, commissioner of the Maryland Department of Corrections; and from the Federal Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs, John Ingersoll, director; Dr. Edward Lewis, Jr., chief medical officer; and Donald E. Miller, chief counsel. OPERA CHAMBER ENSEMBLE PERFORMS AT SANT A FE Leading musicians of the Santa Fe Opera Orchestra presented a public concert of works of Bach, Ravel, and Brahms in the College's Great Hall on Sunday, July 27th. Students in the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education were admitted free of charge. Members of the chamber ensemble included members of symphony and philharmonic orchestras in New York, New Orleans, Atlanta, and the University of Delaware. The Santa Fe Opera is a repertoire company which presents a s.eries of traditional and modern works each summer, which this year included the American premieres of Krzysztof Penderecki's "The Devils of Loudun" and Gian Carlo ~en~,tti's "Help! Help! The Globolmks. GRANT RECEIVED FROM NATIONAL SCIENCE FOUNDATION The National Science Foundation has awarded a $600 grant to the Santa Fe campus for the purchase of instructional scientific equipment. The grant, effective from July 1, 1969, to June 31, 1971, will be spent under the direction of Tutor Roger S. Peterson. 12E �I ALUMNI ACTIVITIES PROFILES: MEET OuR ALUMNI Although many St. John's graduates of the past three decades have entered academic careers, that certainly is not true of all. There is a strong sprinkling of business and professional men and women, as well as those who have entered technical and scientific fields. Our subject for this issue is in the latter category, and is one of several alumni in our country's space program. As you will see, St. John's also had a hand in putting a man on the moon. From Cumberland in western Maryland, just out of Allegany High School, John M. Twigg, Jr., came to St. John's in September, 1948. Unlike the subjects of our first two Profiles, he was able to complete his college work without interruption, and graduated in 1952. Twigg spent the next two years at The Johns Hopkins University, trying to squeeze three years of electrical engineering into two. He was successful in this, and received his B.E.S. degree in 1954. After a year as a sales engineer with Westinghouse, he was claimed by the Army for a two-year period. Military service means different things to different people. For John Twigg it introduced him to his present career. Stationed at the Redstone Arsenal in Huntsville, Ala., he worked with some of the nation's leaders in the growing field of rocketry. When he left the Army in 1957, it was to move to what was then Cape Canaveral, and the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. He has been there ever since. His experience with the space program spans a wide range of events: test conductor for the Jupiter space 12F John M. Twigg, Jr., 1952 shot which carried aloft space monkeys Able and Baker; test conductor of the Mercury-Redstone launch carrying Captain Virgil Grissom in July 1961; then test supervisor on the Saturn 1 project, followed by a position as branch chief, Launch Vehicle Operations. Twigg's present position is that of assistant to the Director of Launch Vehicle Operations for the Apollo Applications Program. Twigg and his wife, the former Marie Jean Chelson of Cincinnati, have a son nine and a daughter four years of age. They make their home in Cocoa Beach, Fla. HOMECOMING Plans for Homecoming are gradually taking shape. Since people are the key to an event like this, we are pleased that several class reunions are being planned. Dr. Bob Bier is coordinating the 50th anniversary celebration of the Class of 1919; Allan Hoffman and Jack Brooks are luring the Class of 1949 back to the campus; and Harvey Gold- stein and Bill Tilles are helping 1959 plan its tenth "birthday." We hope that the other "9-ers," plus 1944 and 1964, will also be with us. The principal event on Homecoming Day, of course, will be the rededication of Woodward Hall, the College library building. Mr. Paul Mellon, alumnus of the College in the Class of 1944 and a long-'time friend, will be one of the speakers at the ceremony. In other activities, students will again have a chance to discuss with alumni the attractions and pit-falls of graduate schools. Dr. vV. Douglas 'Veir '57 and a panel of alumni will discuss and answer questions about graduate school experience. The Homecoming Dinner will be held this year in the gymnasium in order that faculty and seniors might be able to join alumni for that event. Special tables will be reserved for reunion classes and their guests. While the entire program was not complete when this went to press, the following events are fairly certain: Saturday, October 18, 1969 9 a.m.-2 p.m.-Registration. 10 a.m. -Graduate School Discussion. 12 noon -Buffet Luncheon. 2 p.m. -Annual Business Meeting. 4 p.m. -Library Rededication. 5:30 p.m. -Pre-Dinner Festivities. 7 p.m. -Homecoming Dinner. 9 p.m. -Alumni Parties. ALUMNI MEMBERS OF COLLEGE BOARD The directors of the Alumni Association have announced the nomination of J. S. Baker Middelton '38 and Myron L. Wolbarsht '50 as alumni representatives on the Board of Visi- �September 1969 ,. tors and Governors of the College. Both alumni are serving currently on the Board. If re-elected, they would serve until 1972. l\fr. Middelton, Director of Industrial Relations for the Keufel & Esser Co., is a member of the Orga.nization and Annapolis Campus Development Committees of the Board. He has served as chairman of the latter committee. Mr. \Volbarsht is Professor of Ophthalmology and Director of Research, Duke Universitv Medical Center. He is serving as ·chairman of the Annapolis Admissions Committee of the Board, and holds membership on the Annapolis Planning and Development and Alumni Relations Committees. CHARTER FLIGHT Does Rome in the spring sound better than th e Alps? We hope so, because unforeseen circumstances have forced us to modify our originallyannounced plans. The charter trip is being sponsored lw the College rather than the Alumni Association, and this means that tutors, students, alumni, and administrative personnel are all eligible. And to permit the maximum number to take advantage of the trip, it will take place during the Annapolis spring vacation. CLASS NOTES Plan now to join our flight to sunny Italy and the glory that was-and isRome. ALUMNI GIVING: IT Is MoRE BLESSED The final report of alumni giving for the year 1968-69 has been prepared in detail, and wi11 be distributed to all alumni. It seems appropriate to report a few highlights here, to keep nonalumni readers informed about this important form of alumni activity. First, the Alumni Annual Giving Campaign (the Alumni Fund) was re-defined last year to mean giving for William B. Athey, 1932 current unrestricted purposes only. (Photo by Leonard L. Greif, Jr.) Led by chairman William B. Athey '32, a team of four co-chairmen and forty-four class captains and their vol- 1906, Roscoe E. Grov.e of the Class unteer agents wrote, telephoned, and of 1910, and John H. E. Legg of the visited their classmates and friends. Class of 1921. Some 629 alumni responded to these The key to success this past year appeals with $20, 700, thus exceeding was participation, in many cases firstthe Campaign dollar goal with the time involvement on behalf of the greatest number of unrestricted gifts College. A good example was the ever received in one year. round-up telethon held in Baltimore Second, more than $125,000 for en- on June 10th-12th. Of the seventeen dowment and plant purposes was re- volunteers who devoted three hours ceived through alumni gifts and be- each, eight were first-time workers. quests. The largest amounts came Together, they raised more than $1,500 from the estates of Alfred Houston and for the Campaign; perhaps more imHenry F. Sturdy, both of the Class of portantly, they enjoyed doing it. correctly the track team in the April issue. Mr. Robinson was a member of that team. 1923 Paul L. Banfield, headmaster of the Landon School. Bethesda, Md., attended the 50th annual conventiop of the Country Day School Headmasters Association of the United States last June. The meeting was held on St. John 's Santa Fe campus, exactly ten years after the same association met on the Annapolis campus. S. Paul Schilling, professor of systematic theology and chairman of the division of theological studies at Boston University School of T heology, is the author of God in An Age of Atheism, to be published in September by the Abingdon Press, Nashville, Tenn . 1924 Lt. Gen. Ridgely Gaither, USA (ret.), was reappointed Police Commissioner of Annapolis in July. Gen . Gaither's four-year appointment was appro\·ed unanimously by the city aldermen . Adel the name of the Rev. Charles M. Robinson to the list of those who identified 1928 Louis L. Snyder, professor of history at TI1e City College of the City University of New York, has been elected to the American Committee of the History of the Second \ Vorld \Var. He has also been appointed to the AdYisorv Committee of the Committee of Federal Legislation of the New York State Bar. 1937 L. Lee Moore , Jr., in June was appointed principal of the Druid Hills Elementary School in Martinsville, Va. He has been in that city since 1948, and was most recently Director of Federal Programs for its school s~ ·stem . 1938 Samuel D. Foster, Jr., and his wife Betty were honored in May for their contributions to Girl Scouting activities in Anne Arundel County, Md. Mr. Foster has been honored in the past for his work with the Boy Scouts. 1939 Lewin W . Wickes was appointed general attorney for the Penn Central in July. Mr. Wickes joined the former Pennsylvania Railroad in 1947, and was made assistant general counsel in 19 5 5. 1942 Joumet G . Kahn left St. Xavier College last June to become director of the Honors Program at Marquette University . 1948 A recent visitor to Santa Fe and the western St. John's was C. Robert Morris. 1949 John (Father Hilary) Hayden reports that he .is still a monk of St. Anselm's Abbey in Washington, D. C. He teaches Greek, Latin, and the Great Books in the Abbey School, and is novitiate-master for the monastery. He is currently president of the Classical Association of the Atlantic States, and vice-chainnan of the Northeast Conference on Teaching Foreign 12G �Ill The College Victoria (Meeks) Blair-Smith and husband Hugh are the proud parents of Robert McPhail Blair-Smith II, born June 19th in Cambridge, Mass. Elise Mary Filipi and Robert F. Abbato were married in West Grove, Pa., on June 28th. Mrs. Abbato completed her undergraduate work at the University of Delaware, and has been a kindergarten teacher. Her husband, employed by General Electric, has degrees from Cooper Union School of Engineering and the University of Pennsylvania. Judith (Morganstern) Licht and husband Robert '62 announced the arrival on June 24th of second son Jacob. Mr. Licht will be a lecturer in the Philosophy Department at Bucknell University during the coming year. 1962 Philip P. Chandler II, 1968 (SF) (Photo by Jimmy Chen) Languages. He would like to know how many '49ers plan to come to the Homecoming October 17th-18th. 1953 On July 1st John D. Alexander, Jr., became a partner in the Baltimore law firm of Allen, Thieblot & Alexander. James \\!. Linsner writes that he has accepted a position at St. Mary's College in California, and will be teaching music and Ptolemy this coming academic year. 1959 George W. \Vorthington, after fourteen years experience as a public relations executive, has formed his own public relations agency with offices ih New York City. 1960 J1 I Captain John J. G. Lane and his wife Grace (Prevost) '59 have moved to Oklahoma City, \\·here he is stationed at Tinker Air Force Base. Captain ·Lane received his master's degree in management from Texas A&M in May, together with the University's Alumni Award for Outstanding Graduate Stllilent of 1969, as well as the Facultv Achievement Award in Management. · Frank B. Murray writes that he and his wife Fiona (Paul) are moving to Newark, Del., mid-August. He will be an associate professor in educational psychology at the Uni\-ersity of Delaware. 1961 Eric A. Arnold, Jr., writes that he defended his doctoral dissertation (Administrative Leadership in a Dictatorship: the Position of Joseph Fouche in the Napoleonic Police, 1800-1810) before the Department of History at Columbia University last February. During the 1969-70 academic year he will hold a position in the Department of History at the University of Denver. 12H J. Jerome Brennig, Jr., having completed a tour with the Peace Corps in India, has returned to the United States. He and his wife, the former Nilimina Sapra, now live in Madison, Wisconsin. Pherne Perkins received a master's degree from Harvard University on June 12th. Nancy (Hillis) Schroeder informs us that husband Irwin, who graduated with honors from the University of San Diego Law School, was one of sixty outstanding law graduates nationally who were offered positions with the Department of Justice. In September he will start work with the Land and Natural Resources Division of the Department. Mrs. Schroeder, who has taught first grade this past year, writes that she is ready to mo\'e to the East Coast. 1967 The engagement of Clark E. Lobenstine and Miss Joy Ann Chatlain was announced in the early summer, with a July 19th wedding scheduled in Kansas City. Miss Chatlain, a_ native of Shawnee Mission, Kan ., and a graduate of the state University, is a research assistant at The Johns Hopkins University. Mr. Lobenstine is a social worker at Spring Grove State Hospital. 1963 1968 Robert K. Thomas, whose marriage to Rosemary Jierjian of Lebanon was announced in the April issue, sends more information about his work for USIA. He is in Jidda, Saudi Arabia, as assistant to the Public Affairs Officer, and will soon take over as director of the American Center there. Although Jidda is "beastly hot," the Red Sea and its water sports are just minutes away. Mr. Thomas says his wife speaks English with a native American accent, and is as excited about St. John's as he is. Philip P. Chandler II (SF) will help Stringfellow Barr during the coming year in preparing an historical account of the curriculum revolution at St. John's College in 1937. Todd H. Everett (SF) clarifies our cryptic entry about him in the July issue. He is now an account executive in the advertising department of Liberty /UA Inc., and says that his free-lancing, in the same general field , is now secondary. The engagement of Jinua P. MacLaurin to Thomas Rie '70 was announced in May. An August wedding was planned. George Partlow wrote in June that he was entering Peace Corps training for a project in Jamaica, W. I. 1964 Eleanor L. Noon received her MD. degree on June 3 from the Woman's Medical College of Pennsylvania. So far as we are aware, she is the first women graduate of St. John's to enter medicine. Dr. Noon will intern at South Baltimore General Hospital. Lowell I. Shindler and wife Barbara are the proud parents of Whitney Alison, born on July 3rd. 1969 On July 19, Anne Barbara Lyons and Thomas H. Farrell '67 were married in Santa Fe. The marriage was performed by the Rev. J. Winfree Smith of the Annapolis faculty. 1966 Frances E. Borst writes that she has been (as of June) a Peace Corps teacher in Thailand for more than a year, and is now making plans for graduate school. Richard F. Fielding and Miss Sara Elizabeth Melzer \Vere married in Scarsdale, N. Y., on July 3rd. Brother Robert '68 was best man. The bride is a graduate of the University of \Visconsin, and is working toward a doctorate in romance languages at the University of Chicago. Mr. Fielding is studying for a doctorate in political science, also at Chicago. Melvin and Deena (Brodkin) Kline '67 report they both completed their M.S.Ed. degrees at the Ferkauf School of Yeshiva University in New York in July. They plan to settle permanently in Israel where they expect to teach. In Memoriam 1906-GuY BoNNEY, Kinsale, Va ., June, 1969. 1918-DR. LLEWELLYN HALL, Hartford, Conn., June 21, 1969. West 1919-DR. THOMAS R. O'RouRK, SR., Baltimore, Md ., July 24, 1969. 1933-WILLIAM A. Md., August 10, 1969. PERCY, Vienna, 1962-WILLIAM A. HELLIWELL, New York City, May, 1969. �September 1969 of the Class of 1916, $10,000. The residence willed to the College by Henry F. Sturdy, of the Class of 1906, was sold, and the sum of $28,633 placed in a permanent fund as a memorial to Professor Sturdy. To the many alumni, Board members and other friends of St. John's College who have contributed so generously of their time and of their substance over this past year, I should like to convey the College's deepest gratitude. I know that the members of the Faculty and the staff on both campuses would endorse these sentiments. I am confident that even a substantial number of St. John's students realize and appreciate what friends and supporters of this College are doing on its behalf. We all move into this third decade with confidence and hope. RICHARD D. President ,;v 1968-The interior of oodwarcl Hall is completely stripped before renoYation. (Photo b~, Stewart Bros. Inc.) the Santa Fe campus totaled $42,996, making a grand total of $1,695,809. Once again members of this Board amply demonstrated their confidence in the new Western college by giving $426,930. Foundations contributed $91,520, business corporations $43,980, parents of students $4,385, and friends and young alumni $45,698. It is significant that there were 520 donors this year as compared with 324 last year and 242 in 1966-67. Particular mention should be made of a life income gift of $67,671 from Mr. and Mrs. Eugene Hayward of Cimarron, New Mexico, and a gift from Mr. and Mrs. Charles Scarlett, of Baltimore, Maryland, for a portrait of the President by Charles W. Thwaites, Santa Fe artist. In Annapolis there were 840 gifts for current purposes aggregating $66,111: $20,610 from alumni, $1,890 from Board members, $25,854 from business corporations, including St. John's share of the annual campaign conducted by the Association of Colleges in Maryland, $8,950 from foundations, $3,826 from parents and $4,891 from friends. The Annapolis endowment was increased by gifts of $620,296. Approximately half of this amount came in the form of matching grants from Old Dominion Foundation. The most notable single gift was that of $187,500 from Thomas l\!I. Evans of New York City, a former member of this Board. A total of $232,851 was received toward the reconstruction of \Voodward Hall. This included a grant from the State of Maryland of $75,000, federal funds of $132,204, and a helpful further grant from the Trustees of the Hodson Trust of $25,000. I am pleased to report four alumni bequests, all of which have been added to the College's endowment through the creation of memorial funds in the names of the individuals: Roscoe E. Grove, of the Class of 1910, $15,978; Alfred Houston, of the Class of 1906, $29,287; John H. E. Legg, of the Class of 1921, $22,289; George Davidson, Jr., WEIGLE Annapolis, Maryland September 17, 1969 TWENTY YEARS IN RETROSPECT ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE 1949-1969 The table on the following two pages contains the highlights of the twenty years of the presidency of Richard D. Weigle. Categories listed are: major developments, the academic program, tutors and students, developing resources, and the public and the college. The concluding pages of the September issue are devoted to the financial reports for the fiscal year 19681969. (Eds. ) 13 �The College 1949-1950 196 EnrollmentFaculty Budget 27 $461,956 EnrollmentFaculty Budget 173 25 $455,612 EnrollmentFacul ty Budget 151 17 $413,804 EnrollmentFaculty Budget 133 19 $478,789 EnrollmentFaculty Budget 125 25 $555,170 EnrollmentFacultv Budget 139 26 $504,080 EnrollmentFaculty Budget 166 24 $531,628 EnrollmentFaculty Budget 179 28 $622,430 EnrollmentFaculty Budget 212 29 $679,679 EnrollmentFaculty Budget 225 32 $785,421 Major Developments The Academic Program Richard Weigle elected President. First College Polity adopted by Board of Visitors and Governors. Jacob Klein appointed Dean. Written enabling exams moved back to June from fall of senior year. Board votes to admit women students in September, 1951. lV[usic tutorial inaugurated for freshmen under Victor Zuckerkandl' s direction. 1950-1951 1951-1952 Individual lab projects initiated m senior year. 1952-1953 St. John's accredited by Iviiddle States Association of Colleges and Secondary Schools. Fire damages McDowell Hall (November). Self-study undertaken on grant from the Fund for the Advancement of Education. Sophomore language tutorial to emphasize English and Greek. 1953-1954 Teaching internship program begun with six appointees. Enabling exams moved to end of sophomore year. 1954-1955 First six women graduate. Initial quinquennial review of College Polity completed. Self-study published (April). 1955-1956 Faculty study group instituted. First theme "Classical Logic and Modern Logic." 1956-1957 Board creates Visiting Committee to establish closer relationship with Faculty. Internship program ends. Calendar reverts to semester plan. Algebra dropped; test for freshmen substituted. President Eisenhower speaks at dedication of Francis Scott Key Memorial (Class of 1796) and Mellon Hall (May); Paul Mellon and Mark Van Doren made Honorary Fellows. Curtis Wilson becomes Dean. Special events: Founders' Weekend; Kirkpatrick concerts; Monteverdi's Orfeo; and lectures on "The Scientist as Philosopher" and "Man and His World." 1957-1958 1958-1959 I 14 I �September 1969 ,. Tutors and Students Developing Resources The Public and the College TI.A.A. faculty retirement and collective life insurance programs adopted. Gift announced of $ 300,000 from Old Dominion foundation for a new heating plant. Publication of about St. John's begun. Barbara Leonard appointed Assistant Dean for Women. Faculty opposes Ober Bill, requiring loyalty oaths. Old Dominion offers to match up to $250,000 for plant and $1,000,000 for endowment. Weigle appointed to Board of Education of Anne Arundel County. First tenure appointments made under College Polity. Twenty-four women enroll in Class of 1955. Heating plant dedicated at fall Homecoming. Randall Hall remodeled to house women. Historic Annapolis, Inc. founded m meeting in the Great Hall. $300,000 Old Dominion grant liquidates all indebtedness. Brice House sold. Association of Independent Cplleges in Maryland formed for cooperative fund-raising . First St. John's conducted. St. Jolm' s Story, color-sound movie filmed during fall. Nadir in enrollment-125. Seminar-in-Europe College contracts with U. S. Foreign Operations Administration to orient foreign nationals from labor and other fields. Faculty advisers instituted for freshmen. New faculty salary scale adopted. New women's dormitory completed; named for Levin Hicks Campbell, Class of 1793. Campus master plan adopted. Endowment reaches $1,000,000. Weigle made chairman of Commission on Liberal Education of Association of American Colleges. James Tolbert becomes Director of Admissions. College JOms College Scholarship Service. Valk Tutorship established. Carroll-Barrister House ( c. 1721) moved on campus from Main Street. 212 Norwood Road purchased for President's Residence. \iVeigle travels to India for U. S. State Department lecture tour. Work begun on auditorium and laboratory building; financed by $750,000 from State and $1,250,000 from Old Dominion. 9 St. John's Street purchased for dormitory. Weigle elected President of Board of Education of Anne Arundel County. Freshman Class of 107 largest smce 1934. Faculty scale adopted with $12,000 maximum. Third Century Fund campaign planned for $6,600,000 m two-year period, 1958-1960. Portrait at a Faculty and The Student Body published. · System of 12-year tenure appointments begun. College joins College Entrance Examination Board. Bequest of $1,787,120 from Addison Mullikin, Class of 1895. Humphreys Hall restored as dorm. State deeds former railroad land to College. Country Day School Headmasters Association meets on campus. 15 �The College 1959-1960 Major Developments The Academic Program EnrollmentFaculty Budget 257 33 $914,331 Board invited by citizens of Monterey Peninsula to consider second St. John's campus in that area of California. New laboratory revision begun. Faculty visit Reed College on Hazen Foundation grant. EnrollmentFaculty Budget 280 36 $1,030,830 Board votes Feb. 22 to try to start second St. John's College in Santa Fe, after considering 40 sites. Legal authority for granting degrees in New Mexico obtained. Second year of French substituted for German. Analytical geometry introduced in sophomore year and calculus moved to junior year. Reed professors visit St. John's. EnrollmentFacultv Budget 293 40 $1,051,243 Master plan for Santa Fe campus adopted by Board. $1,467,362 raised in first year. Land given in Carmel Highlands for possible third campus. EnrollmentFaculty Budget 313 43 $1,139,874 Ground broken for Santa Fe buildings on April 22. John Kieffer appointed Dean of the College. Preceptorials introduced for juniors and seniors. EnrollmentFaculty Budget 319 50 $1,248,387 Accreditation reaffirmed by Middle States Association will carry to Santa Fe campus for two years. Clarence Kramer named Santa Fe Dean. Music tutorial shifted to sophomore year; biology concentrated m sophomore year; measurement and chemistry for freshmen. EnrollmentsFaculty Budgets ASF- 321 - 84 46-11 $1,227,613 491,101 Santa Fe campus opens with 84 freshmen; Robert 0. Anderson speaks at October dedication; Maryland and New Mexico Governors attend. Third quinquennial Polity Review creates single Instruction Committee meeting annually on alternate campuses. EnrollmentsFaculty Budgets ASF- 341 - 148 45 - 18 $1,377,856 834,959 EnrollmentsFaculty Budgets ASF- 333 - 168 46-27 $1,338,727 1,172,113 Joint Middle States and North Central Association Evaluating Team calls Santa Fe "complete second college" "A magnificent achievement." Written enabling exams for sophomores abandoned. Eight-week Graduate Institute begins with 33 students (June). EmollmentsFaculty Budgets ASF- 316-170 46- 28 $1,482,816 1,199,269 First Santa Fe class of 34 seniors graduated. February class of 19 freshmen admitted at Annapolis; summer semester followed in Santa Fe. Three-year, one summer transfer program to be tried provisionally. EnrollmentsFaculty Budgets ASF- 323 - 240 40 - 32 $1,507,491 1,422,937 North Central Association of Colleges and Secondary Schools accredits Santa Fe campus for B.A. and M.A. degrees. ~,frs. Walter Driscoll first \,\roman and first westerner to chair Board. William Darkey appointed Dean at Santa Fe. John Kieffer retires as Dean m Annapolis; Robert Goldwin appointed to succeed him. 1960-1961 1961-1962 1962-1963 1963-1964 1964-1965 1965-1966 Planning undertaken for summer Graduate Institute in Liberal Education at Santa Fe; Robert Goldwin named Director. 1966-1967 1967-1968 1968-1969 16 �Sep tern ber 1969 Tutors and Students Developing Resources Addison Mullikin Tutorships established; first appointments made. Third Century Fund campaign ends with H,698,000 raised. Book Store opens in Humphreys Hall. McDowell Hall renovated. Five extra tutors appointed to gain experience in anticipation of need for faculty at Santa Fe. The Public and the College Endowment reaches $6,000,000. Santa Fe citizens donate 260 acres as site for new campus. St. John's International Labor Center closes after orienting 6,200 foreign visitors from 72 nations. Master plan for Annapolis campus commissioned. Boat house rebuilt after fire (Octa ber) . 25th Anniversary of St. John's Program marked by publication of P'ortrait of Graduates. David Boroff's article appears m Saturday Review (March). Admissions applications jump to 420, an increase of 60 3 over previous years. Chase-Stone House rebuilt at cost of $250,000. Architects retained to plan Woodward Hall renovation and addition. New contract with U. S. Labor Department to run Center for one year. T\velve-vear tenure appointments aband01;ed; full tenure appointments restored. Planning begun for Decade of Development, fund-raising program for both campuses totaling $16,500,000. Summer Peace Corps training program for India conducted at Annapolis. Faculty colloquium held at St. Mary's College of California. Carnegie Corporation of New York grants $161,000 for Graduate Institute. Tennis courts built at Santa Fe. Western Consolidation Campaign begun. Peace Corps training program held for Philippines (Annapolis) and Latin America (Santa Fe). Santa Fe Dormitory complex for 126 women and Health Center completed at $920,000 cost. Overlook and terrace behind McDowell Hall constructed. Weigle elected chairman of Association of American Colleges, Vice Chairman of Independent College Funds of America. New faculty salary scale instituted with $17,000 maximum. Santa Fe admissions doubled; Southwest Scholars Program instituted. The Arthur Vining Davis Foundations make grant of $200,000 to Santa Fe campus. Laboratory building named for Thomas M. Evans. Governor appoints Weigle Chairman, Maryland Commission on the Capital City. First 11 l\!I.A.'s m Graduate Institute awarded. Renovation and enlargement of Woodward Hall completed at cost of $600,000. Endowment reaches $9,000,000. Board members pledge $2,400,000 in Western Consolidation Campaign. Country Day School Headmasters Association meets on Santa Fe campus. Publication of The College begun. 17 �The College ST. JOHN'S Annapolis, BALANCE SHEET, ASSETS CURRENT FUNDS Unrestricted Cash Accounts Receivable Due from Other Funds Sundry Receivables . . Inventory-Bookstore Prepaid Expenses Total . . . . . . .. .. $ 142,564 4,173 12,745 4,383 23,454 3,519 ...... . . . . . $ 190,838 .$ 77,489 lll,855 14,119 .$ .$ 203,463 394,301 .$ 47,217 1,799,086 38,175 7,341,620 7,041 Restricted Cash. Loans Receivable . Investments . Total. Total Current Funds ENDOWMENT FUNDS Cash. Accounts and Notes Receivable .. . . . .... . Matching Funds and Pledges Receivable. Investments at Cost. Accrued Income . Total Endowment Funds . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .. . $ 9,233,139 PLANT FUNDS Total Plant Funds. 63,246 367,182 5,047,146 394,221 29,221 5,000 . . $ 5,906,016 Total Funds .... . $15,533,456 Cash. Land and Campus Development . Building and Improvements .. . ..... .. .. . . .. . . Equipment ... U.S. Government Grant Receivable. Due from Other Funds .. 18 . ..... . . $ �Sep tern ber 1969 COLLEGE rviaryland June 30, 1969 LIABILITIES AND CAPITAL CURRENT FUNDS Unrestricted Notes Payable , .. Accounts Payable . Due to Other Funds . Student Advance Deposits . $ 165,53 8 25,300 Reserve for Current Operation . Total . 100,000 12,99 5 5,000 47, 543 $ 190,838 $ 99,574 Restricted Advanced from U. S. Government 99,574 103,889 Fund Balance Total Total Current Funds $ $ 203,463 394,301 ENDOWMENT FUNDS Principal-Income Expendable Unrestricted Endowments Restricted Endowments . . Reservation of Profits-Sale of Securities Unexpended Income Due to Other Funds Total Endowment Funds $ 6,859,915 926,763 1,431,143 3,073 12,245 $ 9,2 33,319 PLANT FUNDS Accounts Payable Funds Available for Plant Expansion Investment in Plant $ 24,517 72,950 5,808,549 Total Plant Funds $ 5,906,016 Total Funds $15,533,456 19 �The College ST. JOHN'S Santa Fe, BALANCE SHEET, ASSETS CURRENT FUNDS General Current Cash. Investments ........ . . .. .. .. . Notes and Accounts Receivable, Less Reserve of $952 . . . . . .. . .. . . Deferred Expenditures Due from Other Funds . Other Assets I ~· · Total .. . . . $ 49,498 7,450 19,688 29,056 21,525 13,080 $ 140,387 Restricted Current Cash-Restricted Cash-Loan Funds Investments-Restricted Notes Receivable-Loan Funds (Students) United Student Aid Fund Deposit .. $ 69,430 1,844 4,300 127, 149 1,000 Total $ 203,723 Total Current Funds $ 344,110 ENDOWMENT FUNDS Cash Investments Total Endowment Funds $ 43,737 6,083 $ 49,820 PLANT FUNDS Cash Retirement of Indebtedness Funds Land and Land Improvements . Buildings Library Books . . ....... ......... ............ Other-Land and Buildings Equipment and Furnishings 20 $ 6,293 63,041 284,665 4,766,130 76,938 90,623 387,397 Total Plant Funds $5,675,08 7 Total Less: Inter-Fund Cancellations $6,069,017 21 ,525 Total Funds $6,047,492 �Sep tern ber 1969 COLLEGE New Mexico June 30, 1969 LIABILITIES AND CAP ITAL CURRENT FUNDS General Current ~·· Notes Payable Accounts Payable and Accrued Expenditures Deferred Income Actuarial Annuity Obligation Total $ 200,000 44,013 66,665 21,817 $ 332,495 (192,108) Cumulative Fund Deficit 1963-69 . Total . $ 140,387 Restricted Current Fund Balances Due to Other Funds $ 189,652 14,071 Total $ 203,723 Total Current Funds . $ 344,110 ENDOWMENT FUNDS Total Endowment Funds $ 43,737 $ 6,293 PLANT FUNDS Unexpended Retirement of Indebtedness Funds Fund Balances Due to Other Funds Invested in Plant Dormitory Bonds of 1964 Dormitory Bonds of 1966 . Actuarial Annuity Obligations Due to Other Funds From Contributions and Current Funds . Notes Payable . .. . . .. . . . 62,588 453 864,000 885,000 191,064 7,000 2,197,689 1,461,000 Total Plant Funds . $5,675,087 Total Less: Inter-Fund Cancellations $6,069,017 21,525 Total Funds $6,047,492 21 �The College ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE Annapolis, Maryland CONDENSED STATEMENT OF REVENUE AND EXPENDITURES Fiscal Year Ended June 30, 1969 REVENUE Education and General $ 592,061 598 415,299 9,574 Tuition Fees Adult Education Endowment Miscellaneous $1 ,017,532 Total Auxiliary Enterprises Dining Hall . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $ 142,343 Dormitories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. .. . .. . 131,211 Bookstore . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .. .. .. . .. . ... .. .. .. . .. . .. .. . 33,764 Coffee Shop ............. .......... ........... ......... 812 Total $ 308,130 Other Non-Educational Revenue .. $ 134,982 Gifts and Grants $ Total Revenue 62,343 $1,522,987 E XPENDITURES Education and General Administration $ 151,371 General 133,3 78 Instruction . . 560,71 7 Student Activities 12,526 Adult Education 560 Plant Operation and Maintenance . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. ... . .. . .. .. .. . .. . . . . . 257,615 Total ...... . . .... .... ... . . . . . . .. .. . .. .. . . .... . . .. . .. .. . .. . . . . .. .. . $1 ,116,167 Auxiliary Enterprises Bookstore . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $ 39,456 Dining Hall . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134,412 Total . .... .. . . . . . . . . ... .. .. . . .. ... . . ... . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . $ 173,868 Other Non-Educational Expenditures Scholarships and Grants in Aid . Others . . . . . . . . . . . . . ... . . . . . Total . Total Expenditures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Revenue in Excess of Expenditures . 22 $ 201,110 16,346 $ 21 7,456 . ... ... . . . $1,507,491 . . . ... . . $ 15,496 Transfer of Funds for Library Renovation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $ 5,000 Funds Available for Future Operations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $ 10,496 �September 1969 ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE Santa Fe, New Mexico CONDENSED STATEMENT OF INCOME AND EXPENDITURES Fiscal Year Ended June 30, 1969 INCOME Educational and General Tuition Endowment Income Miscellaneous $ 465,527 365 4,134 Total .. . . . $ 470,026 Auxiliary Enterprises Dining Hall Dormitories . .. . .. . ... . .. ... . . . . . .. . . . . Bookstore . . .. . .... .. . . ... . ....... . . . $ 119,835 111,469 20,253 Total $ 251,557 Other Non-Educational Income Gifts and Grants Organized Activity Relating to Instructional Departments. $ 12,994 $ 687,334 $ 13,858 Total Current Income $1,435,769 EXPENDITURES Educational and General Administrative and General Instruction Student Activities Operation and Maintenance ...... . .. . . . . . .. . . $ 270,988 504,462 12,951 127,818 Total $ 916,219 Auxiliary Enterprises Dining Hall . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ... ... . .... . . . . . . ... . . Dormitories, including $ 58,8 55 debt service . Bookstore Total $ 90,078 109,108 19,23 5 $ 218,421 Other Non-Educational Student Aid .. ... Interest Annuity Payments . . .... ..... .... . .. . . . ..... . Organized Related Activities .. .. . . .. . .... . ...... . ... . .. . .. . . . ... . Miscellaneous $ 157,472 70,671 9,184 18,631 924 Total $ 256,882 Total Expenditures $1,391 ,522 Appropriations For National Defense Student Loans . ... . . .. ... . . . .. . . . For Capital Outlay . . .... . . . . .... . . . . . ....... . $ 1,560 35,986 Total Appropriations . . . . . . . . . $ 37,546 Total Expenditures and Appropriations . .. ... . $1 ,429,068 Excess of Income over Expenditures and Appropriations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $ 6,701 23 �The College ~· · SCENES AT THE COLLEGE Photos by M. E. Warren 24 �GIFTS AND BEQUESTS St. John's College is a non-sectarian, independent liberal arts college deriving its income from student fees, from a limited appropriation by the Maryland General Assembly, and the gifts of its friends and alumni and from permanent endowment funds. The College's permanent endowment now exceeds $7,000,000, but increasing educational costs will require future additions to these funds. The CoUege invites gifts and bequests to its current budget, to its building program, and to its permanent endowment funds. Inquiries may be addressed to the President or the Treasurer. Bequests may be made in a form similar to the following: "I hereby give and bequeath to St. John's College in Annapolis, Maryland or m Santa Fe, New Mexico the sum of . . . .. . ... . .... dollars." The Co11ege would prefer gifts and bequests to be applied in the discretion of the College, but gifts and bequests may be made for specia11y stated purposes. �Santa Fe: A dream is now a five-y_ear-old reality. The College St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland 21404 Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The College </em>(1969-1981) Description An account of the resource St. John's College's Office of the Dean published <em>The College</em> from 1969 to 1981. The publication superseded <em><a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/37" title="The Bulletin of St. John's College">The Bulletin of St. John's College</a></em>.  <em>The College</em> was in turn continued by <a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/13" title="The St. John's Review"><em>The St. John's Review</em></a> in 1981.  <br /><br />A separate magazine for St. John's alumni titled <em>The College </em>began publication in 2001, continuing <em>The St. John's Reporter</em>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The College" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=12">Items in the The College Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource 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 Santa Fe, NM Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thecollegemagazine Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 16 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Development Offices of St. John's College Title A name given to the resource The College, September 1969 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1969-09 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Felter, Mary P. Parran, Jr., Thomas Trimmer, Maurice Sullivan, Daniel Description An account of the resource Volume XXI, Number 3 of The College. Published in September 1969. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context The_College_Vol_21_No_3_1969 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 President's Report Presidents The College https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/e49127065869f74ee717b64f4822df9c.pdf 5fca4e2b700189a81956fa98b7e9c957 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 <em>The College </em>(1969-1981) Description An account of the resource St. John's College's Office of the Dean published <em>The College</em> from 1969 to 1981. The publication superseded <em><a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/37" title="The Bulletin of St. John's College">The Bulletin of St. John's College</a></em>.  <em>The College</em> was in turn continued by <a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/13" title="The St. John's Review"><em>The St. John's Review</em></a> in 1981.  <br /><br />A separate magazine for St. John's alumni titled <em>The College </em>began publication in 2001, continuing <em>The St. John's Reporter</em>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The College" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=12">Items in the The College Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource 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 Santa Fe, NM Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thecollegemagazine 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. 24 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Development Offices of St. John's College Title A name given to the resource The College, December 1969 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1969-12 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Berns, Laurence Felter, Mary P. Parran, Jr., Thomas Trimmer, Maurice Sullivan, Daniel Description An account of the resource Volume XXI, Number 4 of The College. Published in December 1969. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context The_College_Vol_21_No_4_1969 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 The College https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/851c685d75958aa5f7dec341738382f9.pdf a46766133c87a2cc6e24920c51686a72 PDF Text Text �The College Cover: Plato and Aristotle, from "The School of Athens," by Raphael. Inside front cover: McDowell Hall, Annapolis campus. The College is a publication for friends of St. John's College and for those who might become friends of the College, if they came to know it. Our aim is to indicate, within the limitations of the magazine form, why, in our opinion, St. John's comes closer than any other college in the nation to being what a college should be. If ever well-placed beacon lights were needed by American education it is now. By publishing articles about the work of the College, articles reflecting the distinctive life of the mind that is the College, we hope to add a watt or two to the beacon light that is St. John's. Editor: Laurence Berns Managing Editor: Mary P. Felter Alumni Editor: Thomas Farran, Jr. Editorial Assistant: Maurice Trimmer Art Editor: Daniel Sullivan, '71 The College is published by the Development Offices of St. John's College, College Avenue, Annapolis, Maryland 21404 (Julius Rosenberg, Director), and Santa Fe, New Mexico (Frank McGuire, Director); Member, American Alumni Council. President, St. John's College, Richard D. Weigle. In the April Issue: I Biological Explanation, by Robert A. Neidorf. Published four times a year in April, July, September, and December. Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. A Giving of Accounts: Jacob Klein and Leo Strauss 6 April 1970 No. I 15 News on the Campuses. 18 Alumni Activities Vol. XXII "When Is St. John's Going to Resume Athletics?" by Bryce Jacobsen 23 �A Giving of Accounts: Jacob Klein and Leo Strauss The following gtvmg of accounts took place at St. John's College, Annapolis, on January 30, 1970. Mr. Klein and Mr. Strauss were introduced by Dean Robert A. Goldwin: Mr. Klein and Mr. Strauss are going to present us tonight with two {(accounts." The origin of this event is, I think, quite simple. Many of us have known them both, as our teachers, for many, many years. In a sense we can say that we know much about their teachings. But, in fact, most of us know very little of the genesis of their thought. And it occurred to us that it would be, very simply, enlightening, to hear from them their own accounts of the origin and development of their thoughts in those matters of greatest interest to us, their students .... It is arranged that Mr. Klein will speak and then Mr. Strauss will speak. Then we will have questions, in our accustomed style. Mr. Klein This meeting has two reasons, one is accidental, the other is important. The first is the fact (and any fact is some kind of accident) that Mr. Strauss and I happen to have known each other closely, and have been friends for 50 years, and happen both to be now in Annapolis at St. John's College. The other reason, the important one, is that Mr. Strauss is not too well known in this community and that we as a real community of learners should begin to understand better why he is now a member of this community. We thought it might be not too bad an idea, although a somewhat embarrassing one, to tell you what we have learned in our lives, what preoccupied us and what still preoccupies us. Dead Week might perhaps indeed provide the right opportunity, the kairos, to do that. I shall begin. Up to my twenty-fifth year I had one great difficulty. I was a student, and so was Mr. Strauss-we studied at the same university-, and I studied all kinds of things, something called philosophy, and mathematics, and physics, and I did that quite superficially. But what preoccupied me mostly during those years was this: whatever thought I might have, and whatever interest I might have in anything, seemed to me to be located completely within me, so that I always felt that I could not really understand anything outside me, could not understand anything uttered or written by another person. I felt that I was in a kind of vicious circle, out of which I could find no escape. I wrote a dissertation, which is not worth the paper on which it was written, obtained my Ph.D. degree, and then after a short while, returned to studies. Now, while Mr. Strauss and I were studying we had many, I should say, endless conversations about many things. His primary interests were two questions: one, the question of God; and two, the question of politics. These questions were not mine. I studied, as I said, quite superficially, Hegel, mathematics, and physics. When I resumed my studying, a certain man happened to be at the University in the little town in which I was living. This man was Martin Heidegger. Many of you have heard his name, and some of you might have read some of his works in impossible English translations. I will not talk too much about Martin Heidegger, except that I would like to say that he is the very great thinker of our time, although his moral qualities do not match his intellectual ones. When I heard him lecture, I was struck by one thing: that he was the first man who made me understand something written by another man; namely Aristotle. It broke my vicious circle. I felt that I could understand. Then I began studying seriously, for myself, seriously, not superficially. It became clear to me that one had to distinguish the classical mode of thinking from the modern mode of thinking. Our world and our understanding, as it is today, is based on a certain change that occurred about 500 years ago, and this change pervades not only our thinking but the whole world around us. It made possible one of the greatest achievements of man, mathematical physics, and all the auxiliary disciplines connected with it. It made possible, what we call with a strange Latin word, science. This science is derived from the classical mode of thinking, but this derivation is also a dilution which blinds our sight. My studies led me to conclude: we have to relearn what the ancients knew; we should still be able to persist in scientific investigations, where real progress is 1 �The College possible, although the science with which we are familiar is also capable of regress and of bringing about a fundamental forgetfulness of most important things. As a consequence of these studies and of this understanding, a question arose: How should people be educated? At that time a certain political upheaval made it necessary for me to come to these United States, and to land on the St. John's campus. This great question, how to educate people, became suddenly a "practical" question. I found here a man, an extraordinary man, whose name you all know, Scott Buchanan. He was also struggling with this question, as he had been struggling all his life. Since then, as the Dean told you, I have stayed here on this campus. Mr. Strauss, meanwhile, worked on his own, tenaciously, indefatigably, and in an exemplary way. His erudition, his zeal, his tenacity brought fruit-resplendent fruit. As so many others, I learned from him. There are indeed, I think, differences between us, although it is not quite clear to me in what they consist. And I do think that at this point it is not too important to find out what they are. Mr. Strauss might allude to them. Mr. Strauss I must begin with an introduction to my introduction. Some faculty members, I was told, had misgivings about this meeting. The only ones which are justified concern this question: Is it proper for people to talk about themselves in public? The general answer is: no. But there are exceptions. First, what is true of men in general is not equally true of old men. Second, and above all, people may talk about their thoughts concerning matters of public concern, and virtue is a matter of public concern. Those thoughts, it is true, are connected with our lives and I for one will have to say something about my life. But this is of interest even to me only as a starting point of considerations, of studies, which I hope are intelligible to those who do not know my starting point. Why then speak of one's life at all? Because the considerations at which I arrived are not necessarily true or correct; my life may explain my pitfalls. The subject is the relations between Klein and me, i.e., our agreements and our differences. In my opinion we are closer to one another than to anyone else in our generation. Yet there are differences. I wish to learn from Klein how he sees these differences. It is possible that our disagreements have something to do with the differences of our temperaments or humors. It is more helpful and worthy, however, if I tell the tellable story of my life with special regard to how Klein affected it. I must warn you: I may commit errors of memory. Apart from this I shall not always keep to the chronological order. I was brought up in a conservative, even orthodox Jewish home somewhere in a rural district of Germany. The "ceremonial'' laws were rather strictly observed but 2 there was very little Jewish knowledge. In the Gymnasium I became exposed to the message of German humanism. Furtively I read Schopenhauer and Nietzsche. When I was 16 and we read the Laches in school, I formed the plan, or the wish, to spend my life reading Plato and breeding rabbits while earning my livelihood as a rural postmaster. Without being aware of it, I had moved rather far away from my Jewish home, without any rebellion. When I was 17, I was converted to Zionismto simple, straightforward political Zionism. When I went to the University I tended towards the study of philosophy. For reasons of local proximity I went to the University of Marburg which had been the seat and center of the neo-Kantian school of Marburg, founded by Hermann Cohen. Cohen attracted me because he was a passionate philosopher and a Jew passionately devoted to Judaism. Cohen was at that time no longer alive and his school was in a state of disintegration. The disintegration was chiefly due to the emergence and ever increasing power of phenomenology-an approach opened up by Husser!. Husser! told me a few years later, the Marburg school begins with the roof while he begins with the foundation. But also: Cohen belonged definitely to the pre-war world. This is true also of Husser!. Mosc characteristic of the post-war world was the resurgence of theology: Karl Barth. (The Preface to the first edition of his commentary on the Epistle to the Romans is of great importance also to non-theologians: it sets forth the principles of an interpretation that is concerned exclusively with the subject matter as distinguished from historical interpretation.) Wholly independently of Barth Jewish theology was resurrected from a deep slumber by Franz Rosenzweig, a highly gifted man whom I greatly admired to the extent to which I understood him. It was in Marburg in 1920 that I met Klein for the first time. He stood out among the philosophy students not only by his intelligence but also by his whole appearance: he was wholly non-provincial in a wholly provincial environment. I was deeply impressed by him and attracted to him. I do not know whether I acted merely in obedience to my duty or whether this was only a pretense: I approached him in order to win him over to Zionism. I failed utterly. Nevertheless, from that time on we remained in contact up to the present day. Academic freedom meant in Germany that one could change one's university every semester and that there were no attendance requirements nor examinations in lecture courses. After having received my Ph.D. degree (a disgraceful performance) in Hamburg I went to the University of Freiburg in 1922 in order to see and hear Husser!. I did not derive great benefit from Husser!; I was probably not mature enough. My predominant interest was in theology: when I once asked Husser! about the subject, he replied, "If there is a datum 'God' we shall describe it." In his seminar on Lotze's Logic I read a paper in the first sentence of which the expression "sense per- �April 1970 ception" occurred. Husser! stopped me immediately, developed his analysis of sense perception and this took np the rest of the meeting: at the end Husser! graciously apologized. I attended regularly the lecture courses on the Social Doctrines of the Reformation and the Enlightenment by Ebbinghaus: I still remember gratefully Ebbinghaus's lively presentation of Hobbes's doctrine; Ebbinghaus shared with Hobbes a certain boyish quality. One of the unknown young men in Husserl's entourage was Heidegger. I attended his lecture course from time to time without understanding a word, but sensed that he dealt with something of the utmost importance to man as man. I understood something on one occasion: when he interpreted the beginning of the Metapbysics. I had never heard nor seen such a thing-such a thorougb and intensive interpretation of a philosophic text. On my way home I visited Rosenzweig and said to him that compared to Heidegger, Max Weber, till then regarded by me as the incarnation of the spirit of science and scholarship, was an orphan child. I disregard again the chronological order and explain in the most simple terms why in my opinion Heidegger won out over Husser!; he radicalized Husserl's critique of the school of Marburg and turned it against Husser!: what is primary is not the object of sense perception but the things which we handle and with which we are concerned, pragmata. What I could not stomach was his moral teaching, for despite his disclaimer, he had such a teaching. The key term is resoluteness without any indication as to what are the proper objects of resoluteness. There is a straight line which leads from Heidegger's resoluteness to his siding with the so-called Nazis in 1933. After that I ceased to take any interest in him for about two decades. To return to 1922, the resurgence of theology, of what sometimes was even called orthodoxy, was in fact a profound innovation. This innovation had become necessary because the attack of the Enlightenment on the old orthodoxy had not been in every respect a failure. I wished to understand to what extent it was a failure and to what extent it was not. The classical statement on this subject in Hegel's Phenomenology of the Mind had become questionable because Hegel's whole position had been called into question by the new theology. One had to descend to a level which is, in the good and the bad sense, less sophisticated than Hegel's. The classic document of the attack on orthodoxy within Judaism, but not only within Judaism, is Spinoza's Tbeological Political Treatise. Spinoza's Treatise had been subjected to a fierce criticism by Cohen-a criticism which was impressive because Cohen was entirely free from the idolatry of Spinoza as the God-intoxicated thinker but it was nevertheless inadequate. In order to form an independent judgment I began, therefore, a fresh study of the Tbeological Political Treatise. In this study I was greatly assisted by Lessing, especially his theological writings, some of them with forbidding titles. Incidentally, Lessing is also the author of the only improvised live dialogue on a philosophic subject known to me. Lessing was always at my elbow. T11is meant that I learned more from him than I knew at that time. As I came to see later Lessing had said everything I had found out about the distinction between exoteric and esoteric speech and its grounds. In 1925 Heidegger came to Marburg. Klein attended his classes regularly, and he was, naturally, deeply impressed by him. But he did not become a Heideggerian. Heidegger's work required and included what he called Destruktion of the tradition. ( Destruktion is not quite so bad as destruction. It means taking down, the opposite of construction.) He intended to uproot Greek philosophy, especially Aristotle, but this presupposed the laying bare of its roots, the laying bare of it as it was in itself and not as it had come to appear in the light of the tradition and of modern philosophy. Klein was more attracted by the Aristotle brought to light and life by Heidegger than by Heidegger's own philosophy. Later Klein turned to the study of Plato in which. he got hardly any help from Heidegger. Klein convinced me of two things. First, the one thing needed philosophically is in the first place a return to, a recovery of, classical philosophy; second, the way in which Plato is read, especially by professors of philosophy and by men who do philosophy, is wholly inadequate because it does not take into account the dramatic character of the dialogues, also and especially of those of their parts which look almost like philosophic treatises. The classical scholar Friedlander had seen this to some extent, but Friedlander had no inkling of what Plato meant by philosophy. Klein and I differ somewhat in our ways of reading Plato but I have never been able to find out precisely what that difference is. Perhaps the following remarks are helpful. T11e first offshoot of Klein's Platonic studies is his work on Greek logistics and the genesis of modern algebra -a work which I regard as unrivalled in the whole field of intellectual history, at least in our generation. While Klein was engaged in this work, I continued my study of Spinoza's Treatise from which I had been led to Hobbes, on the one hand, and to Maimonides on the other. Maimonides was, to begin with, wholly unintelligible to me. I got the first glimmer of light when I concentrated on his prophetology and, therefore, the prophetology of the Islamic philosophers who preceeded him. One day when reading in a Latin translation Avicenna's treatise, On the Division of the Sciences, I came across this sentence (I quote from memory): the standard work on prophecy and revelation is Plato's Laws. Then I began to begin to understand Maimonides's prophetology and ,eventually, as I believe, the whole Guide of tbe Perplexed. Maimonides never calls himself a philosopher; he presents himself as an opponent of the philosophers. He used a kind of writing which is in the precise sense of the term, exoteric. When Klein had read 3 �The College the manuscript of my essay on the literary character of the Guide of the Perplexed, he said, "We have rediscovered exotericism." To this extent we completely agreed. But there was from the beginning this difference between us: that I attached much greater importance than Klein did and does to the tension between philosophy and the city, even the best city. I arrived at a conclusion that I can state in the form of a syllogism: Philosophy is the attempt to replace opinion by knowledge; but opinion is the element of the city, hence philosophy is subversive, hence the philosopher must write in such a way that he will improve rather than subvert the city. In other words the virtue of the philosopher's thought is a certain kind of mania while the virtue of the philosopher's public speech is sophrosyne. Philosophy is as such trans-political, trans-religious, and trans-moral but the city is and ought to be moral and religious. In the words of Thomas Aquinas only reason informed by faith knows that God must be worshipped, and the intellectual virtues with the exception of prudence do not presuppose moral virtue. To illustrate this point, moral man, merely moral man, the kaloskagathos in the common meaning of the term, is not simply closer to the philosopher than a man of the dubious morality of Alcibiades. This view of philosophy was derived from my study of pre-modern philosophy. It implies that modern philosophy has a radically different character. In modern times the gulf between philosophy and the city was bridged, or believed to have been bridged by two innovations: 1) the ends of the philosopher and the non-philosopher are identical, because philosophy is in the service of the relief of man's estate or "science for the sake of power"; 2) philosophy can fulfill its salutary function only if its results are diffused among the non-philosophers, if popular enlightenment is possible. The high point was reached in Kant's teaching on the primacy of practical, i.e., moral reason; a teaching prepared to some extent by Rousseau: the one thing needful is a good will and of a good will all men are equally capable. If we call moralism the view that morality or moral virtue is the highest, I am doubtful if it occurs in antiquity at all. I was confirmed in my concentration on the tension between philosophy and the polis, i.e., on the highest theme of political philosophy by this consideration. What distinguishes present day philosophy in its highest form, in its Heideggerian form, from classical philosophy is its historical character; it presupposes the so-called historical consciousness. It is therefore necessary to understand the partly hidden roots of that consciousness. Up to the present day when we call a man a historian without qualification (like economic historian, cultural historian, etc.) we mean a political historian. Politics and political philosophy is the matrix of the historical consciousness. 4 • SELECTION FROM THE QUESTION PERIOD Question: Concerning the difference between Mr. Klein and Mr. Strauss. Mr. Klein: I do suppose that his emphasis on the political aspect of our lives, which can never be disregarded, of course, is something I do not quite agree with. On the other hand, we do agree that if there is philosophizing, it is a completely immoderate undertaking, that cannot find, ultimately, its goal, although one has to persist in it. Now where the difference here is, is really not quite clear. Mr. Strauss: ... I believe that there is another way of stating the difference. Mr. Klein and I differ regarding the status of morality. Mr. Klein: (Laughter) I am not entirely certain of that. That's all I can say. \Veil, I will add something to that. And that is again a question of a difference of emphasis. I think I wouldn't emphasize it so much, the morality of man, but I do think that man ought to be moral. Mr. Strauss: Yes-sure. I did not mean that when I spoke of our difference. I think that in your scheme of things morality has a higher place than in my scheme. Mr. Klein: I really don't think so. Why do you say that? Mr. Strauss: Because we have frequently had quite a few conversations . . . now and then, and one general formula which suggested itself to me was that you attach a higher importance to morality, as morality, than I do. Now, let me explain this. That the philosophic life, especially as Plato and Aristotle understood it, is not possible without self-control and a few other virtues almost goes without saying. If a man is habitually drunk, and so on, how can he think? But the question is, if these virtues are understood only as subservient to philosophy and for its sake, then that is no longer a moral understanding of the virtues. Mr. Klein: That may be. (Tape break) Mr. Strauss: ... a statement by a modern extremist, but who had a marvelous sense for Greek thought, Nietzsche -in his Genealogy of Morals, third treatise, "\Vhat is the Significance of Ascetic Ideals," he explains, why is a philosopher ascetic? And he makes this clear, that he is ascetic. And, he says, that is not different from the asceticism of a jockey, who in order to win a race must live very restrainedly, but that is wholly unimportant to the jockey, what is important is to win the race. If one may compare low to high things, one may say similarly of the philosopher, what counts is thinking and investigating and not morality. Of course the word morality is a "bad word" because it has so many connotations which are wholly alien to the ancients, but, I think for provisional purposes, we can· accept it. Mr. Klein: If there's something that I learned from Plato, or that I think that I learned from Plato, is to �April 1970 understand that nothing can be-nothing can be-that isn't in some way-and that's very difficult-good. That's why I do understand why Mr. Strauss says that the philosopher is in a certain way superior to the concern about morality, but I can not agree that the ultimate consideration of things, as far as one is capable of doing that, ever, ever, frees men of the compulsion to act rightly. Mr. Strauss: Yes, I think that you believe that. Yes, that is what I meant. Questioner: Of what use is the city to the philosopher? Mr. Strauss: Without cities, no philosophers. They are the conditions. Mr. Klein: You wouldn't deny that, would you? Questioner: But it seems to me that the city provides for the needs of the body. Mr. Strauss: Yes, sure. Questioner: But does it provide for the needs of the soul? Mr. Strauss: To some extent, sure. Questioner: Is it necessary for its existence? Mr. Strauss: To some extent, obviously. In one way or another, even if there is no compulsory education, the city educates its citizens. Questioner: Wouldn't the philosopher get his education from nature? Mr. Strauss: His first education, surely not. His first education he would usually get from his father and mother, and other relatives, that is to say, from the city. Questioner: How does it follow from the saying that every thing that is, is somehow or other good, that a man should act rightly? Mr. Klein: I would answer that very simply: He must try to be what he is. And, by the way, to be a man, a human being, is not a simple matter. The trouble with us human beings is that we are not quite complete, neither when we are born nor when we die. Jacob Klein has been a Tutor at St. John's College since 1938, and was Dean of the College from 1949 to 1958. Born in Russia, he studied in Germany. He is the author of Greek Mathematical Thought and the Origin of Algebra {translation, M.I.T. Press, 1968), and Commentary on Plato's Meno {University of North Carolina Press, 1965). Leo Strauss is the first Scott Buchanan Distinguished Scholar in Residence of St. John's College. He is also Professor Emeritus of Political Philosophy of the University of Chicago. His works include Natural Right and History (University of Chicago Press, 1953); What Is Political Philosophy? (Free Press, 1959); Thoughts on Machiavelli (Free Press, 1958); "How to Study the Guide of the Perplexed," in the translation of the same of the University of Chicago Press, 1963; Persecution and the Art of Writing (Free Press, 1952) containing "The Literary Character of the Guide of the Perplexed"; and Socrates and Aristophanes (Basic Books, 1966). 5 �Biological Explanation* BY ROBERT NEIDORF This paper discusses an old but continuing controversy in the philosophy of biology. It is the controversy between those who claim that purpose and action for an end is present in the behavior of animals and in the development of their internal structures, and those who claim that it is inaccuracy of thought or plain superstition to speak that way. This second group I will call mechanists. The first group used to be called vitalists, but for reasons that will emerge I do not wish to use that term, since it carries certain unfortunate associations. The paper falls into two parts. The first is analytical and destructive; the second suggestive, vague, constructive, much weaker as argument, and to me much mor:e interesting. I. Living things, especially animals, have incredibly complex internal structures; their organs, tissues, and cells seem to be arranged in patterns which subserve the growth, maintenance or reproduction of the organisms in which they occur. So thoroughgoing is the apparent functional relation between the structures and their containing organisms, that the whole presents the appearance of a miracle. We see nothing like it in the rocks, the weather or the stars. It is then natural to suppose that plants and animals cannot be understood in the same way as earth, cloud and heavens. How then can the organic world be understood? One might think of material organisms as governed by one or more Intelligences that are non-material, spiritm1.l, in some way separate from the material organisms they govern. This hypothesis is usually called vitalism, and it is not susceptible to investigation by familiar methods; for this reason I lay it aside, but without prejudice. The obvious alternative is to think of governing Intelligences that are natural parts or aspects of animal material. Again there may be one or many, and the notion of a plurality of such Intelligences is not inconsistent with their subsumption in some fashion under a single world-embracing * A lecture 6 delivered at St. John's College in Santa Fe, April, 1968. Intelligence. For simplicity, I concentrate in what follows on the hypothesis that there are many, each associated with a definite material organism. In this view the term Intelligence has to be understood metaphorically, since we do not find in plants or animals any evidence of deliberation or ability to grasp a universal. The hypothesis therefore takes this form: in the plant and animal worlds, vital processes are governed or at least influenced by some inarticulate and usually unconscious striving toward the achievement of a goal specific to the organism-that goal being the development and maintenance of just those structures and activities that are typical of the species, and the production of further instances of their own kind. This purposive striving is simply a characteristic or quality of the kind of matter that we encounter in the organic world, namely organic matter. This, as I understand it, is the core of the view held by Galen, and before him by Aristotle, a view now widely rejected as metaphysical, anthropomorphic, superstitious, sentimental, dogmatical, and-worst of >~11-prescientific. I call it organicism. Part of the contemporary attitude of disdain toward organicism is based on evolution, for it seems that evolution makes it possible to understand the organic world in precisely the same way as the inorganic; that is, as a series of events governed by a blind mechanical causality. But here we come upon a surprise. At the very beginning of The Origin of Species, Darwin quotes Aristotle approvingly. He suggests that the principle of natural selection is "shadowed forth" in Aristotle, and he cites a passage from Physics, II, 8, which I give in the Oxford translation: Why should not nature work, not for the sake of something, nor because it is better so, but just as the sky rains, not in order to make the corn grow, but of necessity? What is drawn up must cool, and what has been cooled must become water and descend, the result of this being that the corn grows. Similarly if a man's crop is spoiled on the threshing-floor, the rain did not fall for tl1e sake of this-in order that the crop might be spoiled-but that result just followed. Why then should it not be the �April 1970 same with the parts in nature, e.g., that our teeth should come up of necessity-the front teeth sharp, fitted for tearing, the molars broad and useful for grinding down the food-since they did not arise for this end, but it was merely a coincident result; and so with all other parts in which we suppose that there is purpose? Wherever then all the parts came about just what they would have been if they had come to be for an end, such things survived, being organized spontaneously in a fitting way; whereas those which grow otherwise perished and continued to perish. Evidently Aristotle is here expounding a view, attributed to Empedocles, which has something in common with Darwin's. But Aristotle does not believe it, as we see in the passage immediately following: It is impossible that this should be the true view. For teeth and all other natural things either invariably or normally come about in a given way; but of not one of the results of chance or spontaneity is this true. We do not abscribe to chance or mere coincidence the frequency of rain in winter, but frequent rain in summer we do; nor heat in the dogdays, but only it we have it in winter. It then it is agreed that things are either the result of coincidence or for an end, and these [i.e., the teeth] cannot be the result of coincidence or spontaneity, it follows that they must be for an end.... Therefore action for an end is present in things which come to be and are by nature. The argument may be restated thus: if a structure serves a purpose, the series of events causally antecedent to the structure are either relevant to the purpose or not. If not, they do not often realize the purpose, as we see empirically. But the teeth almost always do. Hence the process of eruption of the teeth is relevant to the purpose, is "for an end." We must ask how a modem biologist of the mechanistic stripe would reply to this. No doubt he will point out that Aristotle has quite missed the point of the evolution theory. Evolution, he might say, does not invoke coincidence to explain the eruption of these particular teeth in this particular animal, but to explain the general fact that animals of such and such a kind have teeth of such and such a kind. The first teeth arose coincidentally, as the outcome of mechanical causes unrelated to nutrition; but since they did serve the nutritive function, the animal possessing them enjoyed a competitive advantage, and so on with a familiar story. Ultimately, teeth-not just these teeth but teeth in general -appear on the scene coincidentally; particular teeth, other than the first, arise by the operation of mechanical necessity flowing from a mechanism of inheritance. When we take this view, further shifts of emphasis occur, for then Aristotle's insistence that "action for an end is present in things that come to be . . . by nature" now appears superfluous; the mechanical causes explain everything. So Aristotle's view is refuted or outflanked by shifting the subject to a wider context. But we have not heard the end of him, for his argument can also be shifted to that wider context and repeated. Thus: throughout the animal and plant worlds we see structures serving the accomplishment of what look like natural purposes. The occurrence of structure functionally adapted to ends is the general rule, not the exception. Hence that general fact cannot be the result of coincidence; therefore action for an end exists in things that come to be by nature. It does not matter at this point whether we hold, with Aristotle, that species are fixed and have always existed much as they are now, or whether we think with the evolutionist that species begin in time and evolve one from another. The general fact is the existence of functionally adapted structure, and that general fact has to be explained by acknowledging the existence of action for an end. To put the same point differently, the mechanist cannot prevail by referring the development of adapted teeth to an ingenious genetic mechanism, for we still have to ex~ plain the functional appropriateness of that mechanism. Thus Aristotle's argument has some residual forces despite evolution, and we see that the argument between biological mechanists and their opponents is really independent of the fact of evolution, which could have been inferred from the fact that the controversy antedates Darwin by two millennia. Thus generalized, the Aristotelian argument on behalf of action for an end in nature is I think conclusive, pro- vided we admit that there are such things as ends. So our question is now disentangled from the confusing context of evolution, and takes a simple form: is there such a thing as end or purpose in animals? For Aristotle it was past doubt that the normal series of events in the life of a normal living creature represented an approach to a "completion," then a recession from that completion in senility and death. The completion itself is defined by the disposition to perform, and the ability to execute, a variety of complicated and highly integrated processes, including self-maintenance and reproduction. Except when he is in a theological mood-which is for him a strained one-it is no use asking him what the completed mature animal is for. It is for itself, for its specific normal processes. As the Zen Buddhists have it, the purpose of a flower is simply to open, a truthif it is one-that cuts clean across the flower's reproductive function. For the mechanist, the attribution of the term "completion" to the adult animal is a conventional or subjective mode of speech; for him there is just a physico-chemical system passing through varying stages of activity and stability, and it makes no objective sense to single out any one stage as a privileged one, worthy to be called the completion or the desired end. How can the controversy between mechanism and organicism be decided? I will review five different attempts to decide the issue. The first three are attempts to come 7 �The College to a decision on empirical grounds, the fourth on pragmatic grounds, and the last on analytical grounds. First empirical attempt: someone asks me whether animals have completions or ends and I try to find out by cutting up the animal, looking for the end or the directive agent for all the world as if I were looking for the vermiform appendix. This is clearly wrong. It is as if someone tried to find the form in matter with the help of a microscope. Second empirical attempt: are there phenomena inconsistent with one theory or the other? And first, are there things that animals do that chemical systems cannot? If there are, it would overthrow the mechanist view. No one has yet built a tiger in a laboratory, but there seems to be no limit to the extent to which machines can imitate macroscopic biological behavior, and no limit to the ingenuity of biochemists in synthesizing almost-biological microsystems. It wonld be bad tactics to hang the organistic philosophy on the prediction that machines cannot do X, Y or Z; name it, and someone builds a machine that can do it. And it would be bad logic to hang it on the prediction that no one will ever bnild a machine that can do everything animals can, for this might be true as an accidental matter, even though animals were just machines. Next, are there hard facts, real or imaginary, that conld overthrow organicism? I can only think of one that has been proposed, and that is the imaginary fact of the laboratory production of a genuine animal, fertile and true-breeding. But I think it is wrong to imagine that this would refute the organic view. It would only show that animals can be produced in a peculiar manner. Roughly half of the higher animals-the female halfpossess the capacity to synthesize animals from relatively simple chemicals; only the process is so usual that we fail to dwell on its truly remarkable and very puzzling characteristics, and in the human case we often take pains to prevent it. Third empirical attempt: is one of the two views more adequate than the other? I.e., are there phenomena that can be accounted for under the one theory that the other theory must ignore as unexplainable? Again, probably not. The organicist says that stems grow up in order to put the leaves into the light and air. The mechanist discovers growth-controlling fluids generated in the tip which flow differentially down the stalk depending on its orientation, thus insuring that the stem grows upward. The mechanist now claims to have explained the directionality of stem growth, which his opponent could not do. His opponent replies that any purpose has to be effected by a mechanism, and he thanks the mechanist for having found the relevant one in this case. Next, are there phenomena that can be explained teleologically but not mechanically? Again I think not. I think anything can be explained mechanically, but to explain why requires a digression, for here I must explain 8 what I understand by mechanical explanation. What follows is a simplified version of an account found in Ernest Nagel's book, The Structure of Science. I propose that mechanical explanation of a system involves four conditions. ( 1) The system or phenomenon enjoys momentary states or conditions defined by a finite collection of simultaneous momentary qualities; for example, in Newtonian mechanics the state of a material particle is defined by its location and its instantaneous momentum. (2) There is a formulated procedure for observing and measuring these qualities. ( 3) There are mathematical functions which connect the states of the system at one time with its states at other times in such a way that, given the state at some chosen initial time, one may in principle predict the state at any future time. (4) The system behaves in accordance with these predictions. Some philosophers hold that this is the general pattern of all explanation, with some variation in the definition of state to allow for statistical and probability considerations that are prominent in some kinds of systems. As might be expected, such philosophers tend to be hostile to teleological explanation. Mechanical explanation understood in this way is historically linked to an atomistic and chemical understanding of nature, which ·thus leans heavily on the ideal of prediction. The 19th century biologist Hans Driesch believed that certain biological phenomena associated with embryological development and regeneration of lost members could not in principle be understood mechanically. But the history of biology passed him by and later workers, mostly enthusiastic mechanists, discovered mechanisms of heredity and growth control of a subtlety and complexity apparently undreamed of by Driesch. I believe this is typical of a general pattern; phenomena at one time inexplicable and unpredictable except from the teleological point of view later yield to mechanical explanation. One might even suggest that the mechanistic program is doomed to succeed; for given any regular phenomenon, it may just be a matter of ingenuity to invent a mechanical system with suitable state-definitions and time-dependent mathematical functions that "explains" the phenomenon. Having failed to decide the controversy by empirical means, I now turn to a pragmatic attempt. That is, we might give the palm to whichever view seems most useful in generating interesting research problems and useful medical devices. At first glance the mechanist has the advantage here; certainly those university biologists who espouse some form of mechanism are also those who have the biggest buildings, the most expensive equipment, and the greatest number of Ph.D. students. They also have a rhetorical point to make, for they tend to claim that if you are satisfied with teleological explanations you will be uninterested in finding mechanisms, thus choking off inquiry. But neither Aristotle nor Galen deny the presence of the importance of mechanisms, they only deny the �April 1970 adequacy of mechanistic explanations in isolation. Yes, says the mechanist, but we have made great strides in biology precisely by ignoring the teleological approach; we never use the concept of purpose or end. Then, asks the organicist, why is your literature choked with the words purpose, function, in order to, and so on? Oh well, comes the casual reply, that is just a short-hand for a more elaborate series of statements; we all understand that. But do we? The attempt to decide the issue pragmatically ends in confusion, as is perhaps appropriate for all pragmatic attempts. We now find the mechanist using teleological notions, but claiming that in a fundamental sense he is not really using them. We must therefore examine the attempt to rewrite all teleological propositions in the form of non-teleological propositions; for it is .essential to the mechanist position that such rewriting must always in principle be possible. Space forbids a detailed presentation of any of the many recent attempts to carry out this program. Perhaps the most characteristic effort was published in 1950 by A. Sommerhof in a book entitled Analytical Biology. Sommerhof takes it as axiomatic that living systems are characterized by behavior and structure-growth which is adaptive; that is, conducive to some goal defined as a frequent, typical, or otherwise important state of the system. His problem is to define the apparently teleological term adapted in non-teleological terms. The analysis is complex, and colored by a full sense of the difficulties of the problem. He decides that a given response in a living system is adapted if and only if the following conditions hold. ( 1) The response will, in conjunction with a given environmental context, lead to the goal. (2) The response and its corresponding environmental context are each members of ensembles of real or imaginary responses and contexts, correlated with each other one-toone, and such that any correlated pair will lead to the same goal. ( 3) The response enjoys a measure of causal independence from its corresponding context; rather, the response and its corresponding context are both outcomes of one set of prior causal conditions. (4) It is possible to say that, had the prior conditions been such as to produce a different environmental context, they would also necessarily have produced a different (but corresponding) response. This schema provides a definite meaning for the assertion that a response is adapted, yet there is no reference to use, purpose, or striving. When we say a response is adapted we are referring in a short-hand way to its complex relations with other states real and ideal. What explains the response is the ordinary causal mechanism that produces it; and this latter is of course understood mechanically, in terms of disconnected momentary states related only by time-dependent mathematical functions. But here I must express a misgiving. Let us assumealthough it is arguable-that Sommerhof's analysis permits us to pass from any statement about goals to a complex of other statements expressed in strict mechanical terminology. Is this a translation? If it is, the process should work in reverse, and any biological situation that falls under the Sommerhof schema should be equally describable in terms of goals and purposes. I think that animal death is a case that falls under the schema, for in any environment that we know the higher animals all exhibit longterm processes leading to death. But no one will say that death is a goal, and that aging processes are responses adapted thereto. Sommerhof concedes this, and rejects death as a suitable goal-state on further grounds. It is then a matter for further discussion as to whether the rejection-criteria are-or can be-stated in purely mechanistic terms. My misgiving rests on the suspicion (perhaps unwarranted) that biologists characteristically select goalstates for causal analysis through a sense of their subjectmatter that lies quite outside Sommerhof's schema, and quite outside any possible cluster of purely mechanical meanings. If so, Sommerhof's schema, however supplemented, is a way of deducing many useful mechanical statements from a few teleological statements, but it is not a translation. This leads to what I think is the fundamental discomfort that will be felt by many persons, myself included, 9 �The College in the face of an approach like Sommerhof's. Even conceding that it is possible to replace all of our customary uses of teleological terms with strictly equivalent mechanical terms, we might still feel that the result could only provide the bare bones of an adequate description. Mechanical terms do not describe the states of an organism at various times as truly related to each other, but as discrete moments tied together by empirical mathematical functions. Differently put, a mechanical description like Sommerhof's is not dynamic, but kinematic; it has no room for the forces, tensions, and pressures that we think operate in the organic world; it only tells us about static states that appear and disappear under a purely adventitious order. Like the cinema, it suggests that what appears to be dynamic and flowing is actually a series of static tableaux. Of course certain kinds of changes in these successive tableaux could be labeled as forces, but this would not satisfy the objector, because he is convinced that something goes on in the animal world analogous to what he feels when he senses internal muscular stress, the restlessness of a frustrated bodily drive, or the quiescence of satisfaction. No doubt this objection is anthropomorphic; it remains to be seen if it is on that account vicious. What I am finally questioning is the whole tradition of describing nature and animal life in terms of disconnected momentary states, a tradition which derives on its epistemological side from Hume and on its ontological side from 17th century science. It is a tradition which insists that the fundamental entities of the world, or of our perceptive experience, are distinct items not related to each other except in space and time, and internally homogeneous. Thus, for Hume, any experience of feeling which differs from moment to moment is not one experience, but two. He says, "Whatever is distinguishable is separable." And for a devotee of Newtonian particle physics (which Newton was not), any change in the condition of an object has to be understood as a translocation of constituent particles, where each particle remains unaffected by its motion and is really just a series of instantaneous acts of occupation of points in space. The atoms do not and cannot acknowledge each other by any internal alteration 1 nor can one moment in an atom's life acknowl~ edge the existence of past or future moments. II. Having failed to decide the original controversy by any of the approaches made so far, the suspicion arises that we are dealing with a pseudo-problem generated by inattention to the meaning of the term purpose. Some would say that we should read the meaning of purpose from the animal world, where we see structures serving ends. Since it is just the suitability of this posture which is under examination, we cannot ]Ocate the meaning there without begging the question. Another source for the meaning of purpose rests in deliberative human experience; but it seems clear that animals do not enjoy such experi- 10 ences. It is often maintained these these are the only two meanings for purpose; in which case the term is either applied to the animal world by convention and vacuously, or we have to impute thought to animals. But I think there is a third source. Let me go back to David Hume, who is the outstanding exponent of the view that our experience is made up of disconnected bits and pieces carrying no intrinsic order. If under suitable circumstances I were to shout Brutus, most listeners could be relied upon to shout back Caesar. This is a kind of order among our perceptions that Hume must account for. He would point out that when we first meet Brutus we have no inclination to think of Caesar; that comes only after we have read Plutarch and Shakespeare. For Hume this shows that the psychological relation between imagined-Brutus and imagined-Caesar is not part of the perception we call imagined-Brutus; for if it were, it would have been there from the beginning. He accounts for the association by invoking a force of the mind which is trained, like Pavlov's dogs, to repeat in imagination those conjunctions of perceptions which have been forced upon it by past experience. This associative force of the mind is inexplicable in Hume's system; it reveals itself as a felt tension under certain circumstances and must be accepted as brute fact. I would draw from these psychic phenomena a different lesson. Instead of saying that imagined-Brutus is associated with imagined-Caesar by a mind-force, we may say that the content of the present perception "imaginedBrutus" is truly connected to, stressed by, influenced by our past reading, so that it is now essentially and intrinsically related to the present perception "imaginedCaesar." After reading Plutarch, the experience "imaginedBrutus-imagined-Caesar" is not two experiences, but one, with distinguishable but inseparable aspects. It is only a dogma to assume that the presence within the experience of disting,uishable aspects must be explained by breaking the experience into a conjunction of separate experiences, as Hume would have it. We are now spared the embarrassment of a mysterious mind exerting curious forces on its own perceptions, a mind which Hume in other contexts insists is nothing more than the collection of its perceptions. The same point may be urged with the aid of a sketch that has appeared frequently in the works of Gestalt psychologists and recent philosophers. If you focus to the right of the central circle and say "antelope," you see one thing. If you focus to the left of the central circle and say "bird," you see something else. We have to distinguish carefully between the perceptions and what is supposedly really there on the sheet that bears the diagram. What is on the sheet is a pictorially neutral and unchanging pattern of ink-grains. But the existence of that unchanging thing is inferred from our perceptions, and it is a mistake to think a priori that our perceptions must have the self-contained neutrality that is in the inferred physical �April 1970 0 reality. It is therefore a mistake to suppose that there must be one unchanging perception upon which the mind puts different interpretations at different times; there are many perceptions (loosely said to be perceptions of the same thing), spread out in time although bearing a family resemblance, and substantially influenced by other perceptions lodged in the same biography. If it will be allowed that we have perceptions of sensation and imagination that cannot be analyzed atomistically, let me assume that the same holds for some of our emotions. I will then use the word feeling to refer alike to the contents of sensation, imagination or emotion. The next step is the claim that we have feelings which are organized organically, in the sense that there are indissoluble wholes within which one may sometimes discriminate tension and resolution, within which one may sometimes truly say that this strives for that and finds its completion therein. In a recent book, Mind: An Essay on Human Feeling, Susan Langer argues that this is so, and that the clearest articulation of such relations of feelings is to be found in the arts. She claims, for example, that the relations of tension and resolution found in music are really there as the music is felt, that they are not mere conventional terms of harmonic theory. In her view, all art is in part an articulation of this sort of genuine organic relatedness found at the level of feeling. I think it evident that such organically related feelings are found in our responses to felt bodily drives, to love, to novels and plays, and even to books on mathematics. Langer even maintains that our sense of deductive logical form is derivati;<e from and dependent upon a universally shared feeling of rightness in connection with certain verbal relations. It is not essential to my argument to follow her that far, but only to concede that such a thing as irreducible qualitative "completion" exists in the life of feeling. If this be allowed, we advance to another thesis:-that animals have such feelings. This should be laughable because so obviously true, but it is wrong to underestimate the power of scientific dogmas. One would think that anyone who has heard a dog scream would know that animals have feelings, yet there have been biologists who argued that vivisection without anesthesia is justified because animals are just machines, whose screaming is strictly analogous to squeaking gears. In any case, if animals have feelings I assume that some of their feelings are organic in the sense just stipulated; that is, that they sometimes constitute wholes within which there is tension and resolution, striving and c~mpletion. Surely animals do not attain to the levels of organic synthesis of feelings of which humans are capable, for we have the help of paint and canvas, drum and fife, and fairy stories; but attain it they do. The next step is critical. If the psychological life of an animal is susceptible of regions of organic organization, why not admit that the same thing holds for the animal when viewed physically? The animal viewed physically is just a collection of material substances, and we are here face to face with the dogma that matter cannot feel. But that view is linked historically to the science and philosophy of a certain time, and it seems to me silly to cling to it if the argument leads elsewhere. The chief obstacle to the organic view of matter comes from the fact that we think we know what matter is, pretty much. Matter is what comes in billiard balls, steel beams, piles of mud, pools of water, wind on the face. Whatever it is, it neither feels nor possesses desires; to think otherwise is to throw us back into the world of river-gods and wind-spirits that we have figured our way out of-thank God. But I think it has to be observed that those who cling to a radically inorganic view of matter have a difficulty :-they have to account for the rise of organic feelings in animals, and of feeling and thought in humans, and it is peculiarly hard for them to do so. If we endorse the premise that matter consists only of atoms going bump-bump in the dark, it is hard to see how billions of atoms can do anything else than go bumpity-bumpity-bump in the dark, and there is still no place for feeling, much less thought. This difficulty is independent of the particular type of atomic theory one holds; it arises so long as one assumes that the fundamental constituents of matter are unalterable and internally homogeneous entities, either classical atoms or momentary system-states. Materialists of this mechanistic persuasion usually account for feeling and thought by assigning them to a miracle, or to a II �The College non-material substance, or by denying that science is competent to cope with such airy things, or by denying altogether that they have any causally significant existence. I regard these one and all as counsels of despair. The view I am advancing claims that matter should not be understood as something composed of self-contained particles or momentary states; matter should be understood as organic through and through, made up of events or acts each enjoying temporal thickness, capable of internal differentiation into aspects that from another point of view may also be events or acts, related to each other essentially rather than accidentally in space and time; matter is more like a changing forcefield, perhaps, than like a particle. It is further maintained on this view that matter is sometimes capable of sustaining relations which deser'.'e to be called tension-resolution, or strivingcompletion, and that these relations cannot be decomposed into ensembles of isolated states as in Sommerhof's schema, but are what they are in virtue of a unique qualitative attribute that we recognize because it enters our own experience frequently. In this view it is possible for matter to achieve conscious feeling and thought. Compare this passage from Susan Langer's book, where she is discussing the complexity of physical and chemical systems: The complexity of such processes is beyond the imagination of anyone who does not know some samples of them rather intimately; they grow up into self-sustaining rhythms and dialectical exchanges of energy, forms and qualities evolving and resolving, submicroscopic elements-already highly structured-merging and great dynamisms emerging. The common-sense tenet that such products of nature cannot attain feeling, awareness and thougllt loses its cogency when one is confronted by the actual intricacies of chemica] and electrochemical organization. The bridge to organism arises of itself, and the conviction that "extended substance" [i.e., matter] cannot think and "thinking substance" cannot have materia] properties appears as a medieval doctrine handed down to modern philosophy in Descartes' famous dictum, and with no firmer foundation than his word. The traditional view has now been turned up side down. Instead of regarding organisms as very complicated mechanisms, we regard mechanisms as tragically simple organisms. We see that for the mechanist action for an end was never possible in nature because in his view action in the dynamic sense is never possible at all. The controversy between mechanism and organicism may be decided in favor of the latter by imposing a metaphysical vision in which striving is present in animals because it is potentially present everywhere. It thus turns out that we are not discussing two contesting interpretations of experimental evidence; we are in fact discussing two con· trary metaphysical visions about the basic character of the material world. It is obvious which view I incline to, 12 and I would like to conclude by confronting the view with three brief criticisms. First criticism: The view is silly because it imputes feeling to matter; the only kind of feeling we know is conscious feeling, and while animals may share this, surely plants and inanimate matter do not. This objection is based on the principle that there is no such thing as unconscious feeling. My only reply is to raise a further question. Suppose that during a heated conversation a man sits down beside me, so close that he crowds me on the bench. Without interrupting the flow of words, and without becoming aware of discomfort, I move over.* I would like to say that my motion was a response to an unconscious feeling. I suppose a mechanist would say that if I was not aware of any discomfort there was no such feeling, and my motion was a kind of reflex action. That is a possible way of describing the situation, but it seems to me an awkward way, and in any case I do not see why it is obvious that the situation must be described that way. Another example: Anyone who reads a lecture at St. John's and who survives the discussion afterwards finds out that he holds some important beliefs of which he was previously unaware. In general, we have no qualms about using the notion of an unconscious belief. But the ability to believe something is a most sophisticated human capacity; the ability to experience feelings seems far more primordial. If the former can occur unconsciously, why not the latter? It is an open question. Second criticism: The view is anthropomorphic because it seeks to understand nature in terms drawn from human experience. Reply: If you insist upon trying to understand nature in terms entirely alien from human experience, you will never be able to explain human experience in those alien terms, and you will then be driven to invoke supplementary or supernatural principles. We see this in Descartes' theory that mind and matter exist side-by;side but independently. And we see it in Locke's theory that feeling and thought arise as a result of the action of matter on our brains, but how that happens is in his view forever incomprehensible to us. Third and final criticism: Let us grant that organicism provides a unified scheme of explanation, even though that scheme may be more evident in the promise than in the execution; and let us grant that organicism is the only or the most accessible unified scheme. Still, why should we insist on a unified scheme at all? Perhaps the world does consist of a brute combination of mind and matter, which we descnbe and correlate but never render intelligible. Perhaps the material world does consist of a heap of disconnected atoms whose spatial relations to each other can be summarized and predicted but never reduced to some underlying intelligibility. Reply: In the opening passages of Process and Reality, Whitehead gives * TI1is example was suggested by Mr. Dean Haggard. �April 1970 an interesting definition of an incoherent metaphysics. He says that a metaphysical scheme is incoherent if it contains principles that can be understood in isolation from each other, such as mind and matter, or atoms and paths of motion. In this way he expresses his preference for a scheme of understanding in which nothing is left as ultimate mystery, describable but unaccountable; for an incoherent system as he defines it is one in which the connection or togetherness of first principles is unaccounted for. Hence, organicism, which does not seek a simple deductive understanding of the world with everything flowing out of a single principle, but an understanding in which every principle, every experience, and every entity is incomplete in itself and must find its com- pletion by reference to others. There is no mundane logic by which one can prove the superiority of such a scheme or vision. Robert A. Neidorf received his B.A. and M.A. degrees from the Universi,ty of Chicago and his Ph.D. degree from Yale University. From 1962 to 1964 he was a Tutor at St. John's College in Annapolis. He was Associate Professor of Philosophy at the State University of New York at Binghamton, 196H967. He is the author of DEDUCTIVE FORMS: An Elementary Logic (Harper and Row, 1967), a book in· tended to serve either as an introduction to general logic or for a first course in .symbolic logic. Some of Mr. Neidorf's special interests have been the history and philosophy of science, Aristotle's Ethics, et al. He joined the faculty in Santa Fe in 1967. With Respect to Descartes To avoid the lie he showed great tact; And swore sincerely by the beard he lacked. Not false cried Many, and it was true. Nor true saw some, but only a Few. Centaurs prance, they lead the dance. The god hears the vaunt from below. Uproused he turns him to advance. Will he come with lyre, or with bow? -Argonides 13 �"When is St. John's Going to Resume Athletics?" BY BRYCE JACOBSEN A Midshipman from the Naval Academy recently asked me this question. Many alumni and other friends of the College have done the same during the years that I have been the Director of Athletics at St. John's. The question, with its implications that I am Director of what does not exist, or even Director of Nothing, has both amused me, and not surprisingly, even slightly irritated me. That so many should still identify a college athletic program with an intercollegiate athletic program, is rather strange. Thirty years ago, however, not many questioned this, among other sacred cows of American education. President Barr had to .explain to a waiting world the College's "revolutionary" abandonment of intercollegiate athletics in a radio address in November, 1938. Everything he said then still rings true now. Let me quote at some length from that memocable broadcast: I propose to discuss an important step which St. John's College has taken within the past ten days. Many of those who are listening to me, including alumni members of the College, will by now almost certainly have been told by somebody that the College administration has abolished athletics. Those who believed this statement should, it seems to me, be gravely disturbed. I think I ought promptly to disabuse them. To keep the record straight, I shall therefore first state the facts. Athletics have not been abolished, but the College has decided that after the close of the present academic session athletic facilities will be increased* and at the same time will be· placed on a strictly intramural basis . . . . The system of intercollegiate athletics which has developed during the past 20 years will no longer support the prime purpose of a liberal college. I suppose I ought to have foreseen this. But I didn't. Certainly, there have been enough Carnegie reports, enough magazine articles by candid writers like John Tunis to convince men of my generation that we are sheer sentimentalists and ignoramuses if we suppose that intercollegiate athletics are the * Emphasis supplied. l4 (Ed.) same thing we remember from 20 years back. They do things better now, with Rose Bowls, Cotton Bowls, and Sugar Bowls; with costly equipment, transcontinental journeys, and big money; with costly coaches and costly quarterbacks. I knew all this. The first thing I !earned about athletics on arrival at St. John's was that we were booked to play our unnatural rivals, Army and N.Y.U.in an effort to keep down the high cost of modern athletics by earning a good "gate." But still I thought it might be possible to adapt intercollegiate athletics to educational ends, to pare down schedul-es, to decline with Photo by M. E. Warren �April 1970 thanks such games as Army and N.Y.U., and to protect the coaches from criticism if they lost games by refusing to hire athletes. I was mistaken. The thing that taught me I was mistaken was what happened when intercollegiate athletics collided with a curriculum that really required work. . . . There is no reason on this round earth wl1y securing a liberal education in an undergraduate college should be a less serious business than acquiring a medica] education in a medical school. But if it is a serious business, then it had better steer clear of another very serious business, indeed a highly organized "big" business, intercollegiate athletics. For this big business has its own exigencies: those who won't meet them had better keep out. That big business substitutes spectator psychosis for actual participation, cheering sections for playing teams, an orgy of sports goods equipment for costumes fit to have fun in, large business staffs with long-term schedules for the old-time impromptu challenge of natural antagonists, monotonous physical drill for ]earning to play by playing, pressure from fellow-students for zest to play, the exhibitionism of star performers for the satisfaction of playing well because it is more fun to play a game well than badly. The sum total of these things is hysteria, lost motion, the death of the amateur spirit, and an athletic system that competes with study instead of supplementing and strengthening it. We have all known these things for years, unless we have been ostriches or Rip Van Winkles. But I repeat, they don't prove fatal so long as undergraduate education is run in low gear. In fact, I should insist again that, so long as education is run in low gear, these things are better than idleness. But there is something better still, and that something is amateur athletics, amateur athletics of a quality no college can achieve so long as it is meshed in with the new kind of at11letics, the big-business kind. The educational program now going on at St. John's must have the support of amateur athletics. It must have it, because amateur athletics is rich in terms of health, recreation, skill, and co-ordination. To get that support, it will expand its intramural athletics. More varieties of sport will be offered, and more facilities. Our colleges are often abusively called country clubs. I want to see St. John's offer the sort of athletic facilities a good country club offers . . . . Sooner or later, I hope sooner, the present system of semi-professionalized intercollegiate athletics will hang itself. When it does, the problems that caused us to take our present stand will disappear. When it does, we shall doubtless play games with other colleges as naturally as 15 �The College Phot{} by M. E. Warren earned them. It was always, for some of us, one of the highlights of the year. Somewhere in the intervening years, sad to say, this tradition was lost. Now that the history of the athletic program has been presented, let us examine the program itself in some detail. There are several areas to be considered. First, we maintain for the use of the College various fields, courts, and a gymnasium. There is widespread use of these facilities on an unorganized basis-persons simply coming to the gym to individually exercise, or to pick up any competition they can find in individual or team sports. The activity at this level is quite high. Second, we run tournaments in certain individual sports. In November, we began with table tennis, in which some 47 students and Tutors were involved. In January, we have the badminton tournament. This y.ear 56 persons participated. Last year 89 men were involved at least once in our individual tournaments. This is about 55 per cent such games were once played. Meanwhile, athletics at St. John's will be for the student, not the student for athletics. Over 30 years later, we recognize how right Mr. Barr was in his penetrating analysis of the state of intercollegiate athletics. The unhappy features of the system, which he so vividly described, have become worse since then. It may come as a surprise to some that the founding fathers of the New Program, Messrs. Barr and Buchanan, should have been concerned at all about athletics. But they were very much concerned about having a good athletic program, not the sham kind of thing described above. In those early years of the College, they worked hard and long with Mr. Ned Lathrop to set up and promote the new athletic program. Mr. Lathrop became the first Tutor and Athletic Director under the new system. To signify the College's involvement and commitment to the new athletic program, an Annual Athletic Banquet was held each year. Mr. Barr personally ·presented the various Blazer Awards to the students who had of all male students. We try to offer as much individual instruction as we can in these sports. Third, we maintain an organized schedule of team competition in touch football, soccer, basketball, volleyball, and softball. We play 20 games in each sport, 100 in all. Once every spring we hold our annual track meet. The student body is divided into five teams, called "Spartans/' "Hustlers," "Guardians/' 41 Greenwaves," and "Druids." These teams are self-perpetuating and continuous. Freshmen are assigned to them in a simple alphabetical scheme. However, as sophomores, they are "drafted" permanently to some team. Many alumni who live in the Annapolis area continue to play for their team. Tutors are re-drafted each year on teams. This fall, 120 male students, many alumni, and many Tutors played in our football and soccer leagues. This is about 60 per cent 16 �April 1970 under severe stress. Its limited facilities seriously restrict the scope of our program. The College is planning to build a new physical education building, as soon as the money can be raised. Our students are well aware that we have an unusual athletic program, designed solely for their benefit! (It is a sad commentary on most American colleges that the irony in the preceding sentence should make so much sense.) They appreciate this situation, and respond to it. The average student, with no special athletic abilities, becomes an important part of this enterprise. We count on his growing interest and involvement. It is significant, I believe, that in recent years, almost no student has seriously questioned the fundamentals of this program, or proposed that we should resume intercollegiate athletics. The only people who have proposed such a return are those who are unacquainted with the present program. This is not to suggest that we have solved all our problems-far from it. But we keep working at them within the spirit and context of Mr. Barr's call for amateur athletics at St. John's. I hope that the question posed in the title has been adequately answered. Our goal here, in the current idiom, is participatory athletics-or even the "athletics of involvement." of the male students. Last year about 75 per cent of the male students participated in our team sports program. We encourage participation as much as we can. It is, of course, all voluntary, and no one has to fear losing varsity status, or his scholarship, or his job, if he happens to miss a game, or if his team happens to lose now and then. All these activities have put the present gymnasium Bryce Jacobsen graduated from St. John's College in 1942. He was a farmer and carpenter until 1957 when he returned to St. John's as Tutor and Director of Athletics. Mr. Jacobsen has concentrated on the teaching of mathematics and has published articles on subjects like Apollonius' Conic Sections and Ptolemaic astronomy in the St. John's College Collegian. His even-tempered fairness, helpful instruction, and undefeatable excellence in every sport he tries his hand at have won him the admiration of all who participate in the athletic program. We regret the following ERRATA in the December, 1969, issue in The Habit of Literature, by Richard Scofield. Page one, column A, line 20 for the read a; 1. 13 from the bottom, for and class read and in class; 1. 6 f.b., for philosophy read philosopher; I. 2 f.b., for of read in; col. B, I. 10 for be of meat read be full of meat: p. 2, col. A, 1. 26, for than having read than never having; col B, 11. 5 and 6, for of St. John's students ... to their own read of a St. John's student . . . to his own; 1. 12 f.b., for actions read action; 1. 11 f.b., for of a pagan read of pagan: p. 3, col. A, I. 7, for is a pleasure read is the life of pleasure; 1. 17, for people who read people, who; I. 6 f.b., omit a; col. B, 1. 3, omit the; 1. 23 for will not be read wi11 never be; 1. 27, for it to read to it; 11. 12 and 13 f.b., insert commas after vocation and after as such: p. 4, col. A, I. 8, for and supernatural read and to super· natural; 1. 9, for out of life read out of life and is for the benefit and use of life; col. B, 1. 1, for claims read claim; 1. 2, omit will. (Eds.) 17 �NEWS ON THE CAMPUSES of Mediaeval Studies m Toronto, Canada. BoTH CAMPUSES CLAIM WOODROW WILSON DESIGNATES Edward Michael Macierowski, a senior in Annapolis, and James D. Danneskiold, a senior in Santa Fe, have been chosen Woodrow Wilson Designates by the Woodrow Wilson National Fellowship Foundation in Princeton, New Jersey. The students were two of the 1,153 finalists that topped a field of 12,000 outstanding graduating seniors nominated for the honor by more than 800 colleges. The Foundation's selection committee picked Designates as "the most intellectually promising" 1970 graduates planning careers as college teachers. Mr. Danneskiold is the first winner from the Santa Fe campus in the annual competition. He plans to do his graduate work in philosophy or in the history of science. The senior from Whittier, California, says he has learned a great deal about good teaching from his experiences in St. John's tutorials and seminars. Mr. Macierowski has received the WalterS. Barr scholarship at St. John's for four years. During his junior year he won the Duane L. Peterson scholarship award for $1,000 for "high academic achievement, constructive mem~ bership in the College community, and commitment to later post-graduate work." He is the student member of the Lectureship Committee that selects guest lecturers at the College. He was instrumental also in arranging "the Greek floor" in one of the dormitories for students interested in intensive extra-curricular study of Greek. Mr. Macierowski plans to continue his studies at The Pontifical Institute 18 GRADUATE INSTITUTE TO OPEN FOURTH SESSION THIS SUMMER James D. Danneskiold (Photo by J. R. Thompson) Edward Michael Macierowski (Photo by Edward J. Edah1) The bulletin for the 1970 session of the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education is available at St. John's College in Santa Fe. The eight-week summer Institute will hold its fourth annual session at the College from June 22nd to August 14th. The program is designed primarily for school teachers and other college graduates interested in exploring the basic works of Western civilization. The Director is James P. Shannon, who is Vice Pcesident of the College in Santa Fe. Seminars, tutorials, and preceptorials are conducted by members of the Annapolis and Santa Fe faculties along with some teachers from other colleges. Students may earn a Master of Arts degree upon the successful completion of four summer sequences of study or three sequences plus nine hours of graduate credit from another institution. The four subject areas are again Politics and Society, Philosophy and Theology, Literature, and Mathematics and Natural Science. CONTRIBUTORS RECEIVE COPIES OF GREAT BOOKS In its last mail solicitation for donations, the Santa Fe Development Office offered copies of several of the Great Books to those who sent contributions to the College. Of the twelve books offered, most requests came for Montaigne's Essays and Tocqueville's Democracy in America. In �April 1970 third place was Darwin's The Origin of Species, followed by Melville's Billy Budd, Einstein's The Principle of Relativity, Homer's The Iliad, Apollonius' On Conic Sections, Sophocles' Oedipus Rex, Freud's A Genera! Introduction to Psychoanalysis, The Constitution of the United States, and Plato's Crito. The only book listed and not requested was Elements of Chemistry by Lavoisier. Van Doren's Libera! Education also was offered and it ranked next to Darwin in popularity although not on the Great Books list. The mailing was considered successful with about 40 per cent of the donors giving to the College for the first time. FoRUM FEATURES WASHINGTON SEMINAR MEMBERS AS GUEST SPEAKERS Since January a prominent group of federal officials, national legislators, attorneys, Washington columnists and political writers have been making individual guest appearances at the St. John's College student Forum in Annapolis. The guest appearances constitute a kind of "tuition" for the St. John's seminar the group held one night a week for five weeks during November and December in Washington at the National Press Club. The subject of the seminar was "Plato's Republic." Dean Robert A. Goldwin called the seminar the "highest level, postgraduate course in political philosophy in the country." Members of the seminar include Joseph Califano, attorney and former special assistant to the President; James Farmer, assistant secretary of administration, Department of Health, Education and Welfare; David Ginsburg, attorney and former executive director of the Commission on Civil Disorders; Miss Meg Greenfield, editorial writer for The Washington Post; Thomas Houser, deputy director of the Peace Corps; Senator Charles MeG. Mathias; Representative Abner J. Mikva; Robert Novak, syndicated columnist; Allen Otten, Washington cor- Board member David Ginsburg pauses before answering a question during an Annapolis stu- dent Forum meeting (Photo by Bob White/ Anne Arundel Times). respondent, The Wall Street Journal; Senator Charles H. Percy; and John Robson, attorney and former Undersecretary of Transportation. In addition to the Dean, Jacob Klein, Tutor Emeritus, and Miss Eva Brann, Tutor, represented the College. Senator Charles McC. Mathias speaks during a student Forum meeting in Annapolis (Photo by James Villere). ST. JOHN'S AND NAVAL ACADEMY HoLD JOINT SEMINARS IN ANNAPOLIS St. John's College in Annapolis has been participating with the United States Naval Academy in several joint St. John's students and Naval Academy Midshipmen participate in a joint seminar (Photo by Robert Fenton Gary). 19 �The College seminars on liberal arts topics. The first seminar, held at the College during the first week of last December, brought together nine St. John's students and nine Midshipmen to discuss Paper Ten of The Federalist. John A. Fitzgerald, Assistant Professor of Political Science at the Academy, and Robert A. Goldwin, Dean of St. John's, led the discussion. According to Dean Goldwin the initial seminar was "a splendid success." He also observed that this seemed to be the first joint activity between the two campuses that anyone could remember. At the conclusion of the first meeting, both the Dean and Rear Admiral James Calvert, Superintendent of the Naval Academy, decided that there should be more of such seminars. Additional meetings have taken place and are being planned for topics in the natural sciences, mathematics, and politics. CARITAS SociETY FoRMED To Am ST. JoHN's TI1e Caritas Society, the women's group of the Friends of St. John's College in Annapolis, was formed recently to promote a variety of cultural activities at the College. The society took its name from the Latin word meaning "love and dear regard for." Its goals are "to create a new image of St. John's for the Annapolis community, to make the College the cultural center of Anne Arundel County, and to raise funds for student aid purposes." The society's first activity was to sponsor Archibald MacLeish's drama, J.B., produced by the students' Modern Theater Guild. Chairman of the December event was Mrs. Joan L. Baldwin. During January, under the direction of Mrs. Alan G. Harquail, chairman, the society sponsored a harpsichord concert by Tutor Douglas Allanbrook. Proceeds benefited the Faculty Scholarship Fund for student aid. The concert was taped for future broadcast by an educational radio station, WETA, Washington, D.C. 20 During March the society was host at a luncheon reception on the first day of its Cinema Review I. Mrs. Theodore G. Osius was chairman of the event. Additional functions are planned for the year including a general membership tea during the spring. SANTA FE CITIZEN DoNATES LAND TO COLLEGE Ten acres of land adjacent to the Santa Fe campus have been donated to St. John's by the local owner, Mr. LeRoy Manuel. The land will provide additional frontage along Camino de Cruz Blanca as well as protecting that a"ea from possible unsightly private development. The gift was in addition to the eight acres donated by Mr. Manuel in the early 1960's. The St. John's campus now totals 270 acres at the foot of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Most of the land was given to the College originally by John Gaw Meem, Santa Fe architect and member of the Board of Visitors and Governors. STUDENTS HEAR VIETNAMESE OFFICIAL A representative of the Vietnamese Embassy in Washington, D.C., came to Santa Fe in January to speak at St. John's at the request of a student organization there called "Goodtimes Tran Kho Hoc of the Vietnamese Embassy: in Washington, D.C., came to Santa Fe at 'the invitation of St. John's students to present his government's views on the war. Santa Fe student Elizabeth Randolph, 1973, learns silver craft under the guidance of a local artist. This is one of numerous extraciiiricular activities available to St. John's students (Photo by J. R. Thompson). Overground." Tran Kho Hoc, Third Secretary with the embassy's political section, spoke on "Prospects for Peace in Viet Nam." After his speech, he answered questions for about 1:Vz hours and visited a student barbecue. Mr. Hoc said he believed American demonstrations for the immediate withdrawal of troops were "well-intended" but "more subjective than ra- tional." He said North Viet Nam should admit it is an aggressor and should agree to supervised elections in all of VietNam. Members of the audience questioned him about such matters as the imprisonment of political opponents to the government, the closing of newspapers, and desertions of Sonth Vietnamese soldiers. Mr. Hoc is one of several speakers and entertainers brought to the campus this year by Goodtimes Overground, which also sponsors studies on topics of interest. FASCHING BALL HELD AT SANTA FE The Santa Fe students celebrated the end of the winter session with a �April 1970 which he describes as intellectually and physically demanding as a combination of chess, ballet, and track running. He is quite impressed with the progress of the students, who practice several times a week. They are searching for another team in the area with which to hold a competition. thusiasm for continuing the discussions at future meetings. Students also attended the Board meeting in Annapolis during October and entered into lively discussion of campus life with Board members. BoARD MEMBERS AND STUDENTS BRIDGE THE GENERATION GAP Students at Santa Fe have become involved in the growing national concern over the pollution of the na- When members of the St. John's College Board of Visitors and Governors come to town for a meeting, The breaking of the pifiata is an old Southwestern custom which St. John's students adapted in the Holiday party they gave for the children of the Santa Fe faculty and staff (Photo by J. R. Thompson). Fasching Ball to which they invited the pnblic. The "Fasching" title was suggested by the Director of Student Activities, Istvan Fehervary. It is the name of the festive season before Ash Wednesday in Europe. Two bands played a variety of music from waltz to rock for the semi-formal ball in the Student Center. Donations were accepted to help to pay the expenses. It is hoped it will become an annual event for the students and the College's friends in Santa Fe. they make a point of talking to students as well as to staff members. At the January meeting in Santa Fe, the Board members exchanged ideas with students at the opening business session of Friday, at special seminars on Saturday afternoon, and informally in the coffee shop and elsewhere on the campus. The seminar reading was the commencement address given last year in Annapolis by Jacob Klein. It produced lively discussions on the meaning of liberal education and the relative roles of reason and sentiment in pursuing a worthwhile life. Participating Board members expressed en- ECOLOGY CRISIS ATTRACTS STUDENT INTEREST tural environment and resources. Nine- teen students received permission to attend the "Can Man Survive?" symposium held at Colorado College in mid-January, After their return they helped to conduct special seminars at St. John's on January 30th with Paul Ehrlich's article "Eco-Catastrophe" as the reading. Conservation films from the Sierra Club were shown that afternoon and a table of material on ecology was offered in the Student Center. Students also have participated in local meetings on programs to control pollution in Santa Fe and New Mexico. Plans were being discussed for action on April 22nd, when national attention was to be focused on these concerns. Touche! Santa Fe seniors Michael Landry and Carol Paterson practice on the campus patio (Photo by Kathy Lear). FENCING TEAM SEEKS CoMPETITION A former champion from Hungary is training what apparently is the only fencing team in New Mexico at St. John's College. Istvan Fehervary, the Director of Student Activities at St. John's, won the first national competition in foil fencing for youth in Hungary at the age of 17, and he was a member of the Hungarian Olympic team in fencing and modern pentathlon. He believes that St. John's is an appropriate setting for an ancient sport 21 �The College Leo Strauss the highest tribute one scholar can pay another by remarking that he has brought to academic studies 'the scholarship and philosophic insight necessary to a proper confrontation of ancients and moderns.' " ADULT CoMMUNITY SEMINAR HELD IN ANNAPOLIS Leo Strauss, Scott Buchanan Distinguished Scholar-in-Residence (right), receives a copy of the citation accompanying his honorary doctor of laws degree from the Very Rev. Joseph T. Cahill, C.M., president of St. John's University in New York. ST. JOHN'S UNIVERSITY GRANTS HoNORARY DEGREE To LEo STRAUSS During convocation exercises in November, St. John's University in New York presented an honorary doctor of laws degree to Leo Strauss, Scott Buchanan Distinguished Scholar-inResidence at St. John's College in Annapolis. The convocation climaxed an all-day symposium of commemorating the SOOth anniversary of the birth of Machiavelli. The Machiavelli Symposium presented distinguished scholars who delivered papers relating to the life and work of the Florentine author. Mr. Strauss spoke on "Machiavelli and Classical Literature." His paper will be printed in Review of N ationa! Literature, a new periodical to be published by the St. John's University Press in the spring. The Reverend Joseph I. Dirvin, C.M., Assistant to the President of the university, read the degree citation which began, "A colleague has paid 22 The St. John's College Adult Community Seminar is meeting again this semester. The seminar is a series of discussions of great books, led by St. John's tutors. The seminar is open to the public. The only requirement is that the assigned hook must be read in preparation for the discussion. Each seminar is two hours long; it begins with a question by one of the two tutors and it continues with discussion by the members of the seminar. Readings for Spring 1970 include Democracy in America by Tocqueville; several addresses, speeches, and letters by Lincoln; articles by Mencken; Go Tell It On The Mountain by Baldwin; and The Great Gatsby by Fitzgerald. Tutors Geoffrey Comber, Nicholas Maistrellis, and Robert L. Spaeth have been leading the discussions. BoARD APPOINTS NEW MEMBER Attorney Charles David Ginsburg of Washington, D.C., has been elected to the Board of Visitors and Governors. A graduate of West Virginia University and Harvard Law School, Mr. Ginsburg has had experience in variG>us governmental positions in Washington, the latest as Director of the National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders (The Kerner Commission). He is a member of Phi Beta Kappa. He has participated in the recent Washington Seminars conducted by Dean Goldwin. The Board at its January meeting in Santa Fe also approved the appointment of two new tutors at Santa Fe effective July 1st-Frank K. Flinn of Philadelphia, and John S. Chamberlin of Toronto, Canada. Mr. Flinn is assistant professor at LaSalle College Graduate School of Religion, and Mr. Chamberlin is Archivist, Center for Medieval Studies, University of Toronto. CONCERTS HoNOR BEETHOVEN BICENTENARY Santa Fe Tutor Timothy Miller is presenting a series of four public concerts this year at the College in honor of Beethoven's bicentenary. Miller has performed two piano programs and will give the remainder of the series later in the year. He holds degrees in English literature and in music from Harvard, Yale, and Indiana Universities, and also has studied at the Music Academy in Hamburg and at the University of London. ANNAPOLIS GAINS FEBRUARY FRESHMEN CLASS Twenty-one students, mostly transferees from other colleges and universities, began their college education again as freshmen at St. Joliri's Annapolis campus this February. The class includes students from twelve states and the District of Columbia, with six students from Maryland, and one from Hawaii. The students signed the College register as part of the regular formal ceremony. The Faculty attended in full academic regalia. The freshmen will complete their year during the summer in Annapolis. Robert L. Spaeth, Tutor and Assistant Dean, is director of the summer program. Some of the places from which the students have transferred are Boston University, McGill University, Purdue University, the University of California at Levine and Santa Cruz, and the University of Maryland. CHARTER FLIGHT The much-advertised charter flight to Italy has been cancelled. Although the flight was opened to all members of the College community, as well as to the Friends of St. John's, there was insufficient response to the invitation. (Based on actual deposits received, the flight would have cost about $2,500 a person and that certainly was no bargain!) �ALUMNI ACTIVITIES COUNSELING AND PLACEMENT During the past few months both the Alumni Association's Career Counseling Program (or Alumni Advisory Program) and the placement and counseling services of the College have been subjected to critical review. The Counseling Program started four years ago under the leadership of then-president Jack L. Carr '50. Since that time individual alumni have counseled students on an occasional basis and once-a-year discussions about graduate schools have been held with students at three of the last four Homecomings. Any other alumni counseling has been a personal, voluntary, and informal activity. Counseling and placement at the College have been the responsibility of one of the assistant deans whose duties also include supervision of the financial aid program as well as teaching. Graduate school counseling has often been done by tutors on the basis of a personal friendship with a given stu· dent, with no coordination through the placement office. Dean Goldwin has stated that the College must improve its counseling service, especially in guiding students toward graduate fellowships. At the same time, the Alumni Directors see room for improvement of alumni participation in counseling. The concern of Mr. Goldwin and the attitude of the Alumni Board are underscored by comments from younger alumni who are still in graduate school, and seeking positions: they know the College is not doing all it should to help them. It is recognized that the College's financial resources for placement and counseling are limited. This is an added reason for a joint College-Alumni endeavor. With this in mind, the Alumni Directors appointed Mrs. 1 Nancy Solibakke '58 as a committee of one to study the placement and counseling function at St. John's, with particular emphasis on alumni involvement. After consulting with Dean Goldwin, Mrs. Solibakke and Charles E. Finch, Assistant Dean for placement and financial aid, visited a number of college placement offices. Based on their findings, Mrs. Solibakke on February lOth submitted a report to the Alumni Board for study, approval, and transmission to Dean Goldwin. The report sent to the Dean contained four specific recommendations: I. That the placement office institute standard placement techniques including student dossiers, preparation of students for interviews, and standard liaison activities between the College and possible placement situations; 2. That the placement office formulate lines of communication to the students making as much information available to them as possible and in general serving as a liaison between the student and placement information; 3. That the Dean in consultation with the faculty explore forming a faculty placement committee that serves on a rotating basis to advise students in their junior and senior years and whose duties it will be to keep abreast of information coming from the placement office and pass it along to students who, in their judgment, would benefit; 4. That the Alumni Association set up and maintain in the placement office a file of alumni and others who are familiar with the St. John's curriculum and who will serve as advisors to students in various professional and academic fields both about the general "state of the field" and about specific requirements and possibilities of which they are aware. Mr. Goldwin found the report most helpful, and is exploring ways of putting the first three recommendations into effect. The Alumni Association has begun to implement recommendation num- ber four. During late February a special questionnaire was sent to certain more recent graduates. When completed and returned the questionnaire will form the nucleus of the Alumni Placement Counselor File. Ultimately, the placement officer at the College should serve as the coordinator for all career, employment, and graduate school counseling. It- is hoped that alumni and others, as potential employers, will make their needs known to the placement officer. The combined efforts of the faculty, the placement officer, and the alumni counseling volunteers should then provide graduating seniors and younger alumni with a much-needed service. ALUMNI ARE GIVING TI1is year's Alumni Annual Giving Campaign is off to a very healthy start, Chairman Myron L. Wolbarsht '50, reports. During the first 30 days of the drive, 129 alumni responded with some $3,800 in gifts. Leading the response were !6 King William Associates (contributors of at least $100). The class captains and their volunteer agents started to work during January and February, and the effect of their appeals was felt almost immediately. By the 28th of February more than $8,300 in unrestricted gifts had been received from 311 alumni. An additional $800 was received from corporate matching programs of companies employing alumni. Of the responding alumni; 32 were King William Associates. 23 �The College These statistics point to the important fact that the alumni of the College, in response to appeals from classmates and friends, are setting new records this year. The February 28th gift totals were almost a full month ahead of last year. That is a record of which all alumni can be proud, especially, of course, those who have contributed. If you have not sent a gift this year, please consider what a gift can mean to St. John's. Like all of us, the College is affected by the inflation of the national economy. Careful management of our resources can achieve a great deal, but it cannot work miracles. In order to buy needed services, to attract and keep able tutors and staff, the College must spend more and more money. Income must keep pace with spending; gifts are an important part of our income. Students also bear their share of increased costs: fees for next year will be at an all-time high of $3,400. (Ten years ago they were $2,100; on a comparative basis, it takes $40 now to match the value of a $25 gift in 1960.) If you have never made a contribution to the College, consider doing so now. If you simply have not responded this year, consider increasing your gift. Your support, so eagerly sought, is just as deeply appreciated. CLASS NOTES many newspapers and periodicals, and -he is a regular contributor to the New York Times. Horace W. Witman recently sent Miss Strange some family information which she thought his classmates might enjoy. Mr. Witman wrote that daughter Hope Ann was mar· ried last April, and having finished a business coJiege course, is employed as a medical secretary in Wilmington, Delaware. Daughter Elaine received her A.B. degree cum laude in English from Lincoln University in June, and has joined the University's library staff. Son John is in the 11th grade, and is now choosing between the Naval Academy and a medical career. New York City, a critical look at events leading to passage of the Omnibus Crime Control and Safe Streets Act of 1968. Mr. Harris, whose writings appear in The New Yorker, is also the author of "The Real Voice," about Estes Kefauver's attempts to regulate the pharmaceuticals industry, and "A Sacred Trust," about Medicare. Joseph I. Kiliorin, Jr., dean of Armstrong State College, Savannah, Ga., participated as a panel member in the International College and University Conference held in Atlantic City in March. Dean Killorin's discussion -area was "Inter-Institutional Cooperation; Who Benefits?" His daughter Diana, by the -way, is a freshman on the Annapolis campus this year. 1909 In the December issue it was stated that the Class of 1909 was not represented during the reunions at Homecoming. A11en H. St. Clair writes to point out the error of that statement, and we apologize to him and to his two guests who were indeed present. 1921 Dr, Thomas B. Turner, Dean Emeritus of the Johns Hopkins University medical faculty, has received the William Freeman Snow award for distinguished service to humanity. The award is the highest presented by the American Social Health Association. 1923 Paul L. Banfield, who founded Landon School 40 years ago, announced in December that he is retiring as headmaster of the Bethesda, Md., boys' preparatory school. His retire· ment will be effective this coming fall. 1933 J. Dudley Digges, former chief judge of the Seventh Judicial Circuit of Maryland, was appointed associate judge of the Court of Appeals of Maryland in November. In his new capacity, Judge Digges represents the Fourth Appellate Judicial Court, which includes Maryland's four southernmost counties. Judge Digges is the immediate past president of the Maryland State Bar Association. 1934 The January 11th edition of the Santa Fe New Mexican carried an interesting feature about W. Thetford LeViness. Mr. LeViness, a resident of Santa Fe for 30 years, was our only resident alumnus when St. John's first went into that city. He is the librarian for the State Department of Health and Social Services, and pursues an active second life as a freelance writer. His particular area of interest is New Mexico and its native cultures, and although confined to a wheel-chair ( a cerebral palsy victim since birth) he visits Indian pueblos and archaeological digs throughout the state. Mr. LeViness's articles have appeared in 24 1938 R. Cresap Davis is teaching full time at Frederick (Md.) Community College as associate professor of business administration. He is serving this year as chairman of the Faculty Council. 1941 If you have ever conducted a meeting of any organization, chances are you relied heavily on the orderly mind of the grandfather of Henry M. Robert, III. His "Pocket Manual of Rules of Order for Deliberative Bodies" has sold more than 2.6 million copies in several editions. With his mother, Mr. Robert, III has just edited a complete revision of the authoritative volume. Published by Scott, Fares· man & Co., the new edition appeared Oil> February 19th, 94 years to the day after the first edition -was published. On February 16th Mr. Robert appeared on NBC's "Today" show to publicize the book. 1942 A. Chesley Wilson, after several years with the American Hospital Association in Chicago, moved to the Annapolis area about two years ago. He works at the National Institutes of Health in Bethesda. 1946 Charles L. Van Doren delivered the weekly lecture in Santa Fe on January 16th. Mr. Van Doren, associate director of the Institute for Philosophical Research in Chicago, spoke on "Rhetoric." 1947 Richard S. Harris has written "The Fear of Crime," published by Prager Publications in 1950 Two members of the class of 1950 now have a greater-than-normal interest in the College these days: James H. Frame's son Matthew and Theodore W. Hendrick's son Bill are members of the Annapolis freshman class. 1951 James A. Grinder and Mrs. Nancy Moran Noel were married in New Canaan, Conn., on February 27th. Mr. Grinder is a vice president of A. A. Schechter Associates, Inc., a New Yark City public relations firm. 1952 Walter Schatzberg has been appointed to the rank of associate professor of German at Clark College. 1954 Merle Shore and his wife Priscilla '55 op· crate the Village Frame in Santa Barbara, Cal., a shop specializing in frames, prints, and original graphics of international stature. Alfred R. Sugg, Jr., a member of the Theater Department at Western College, Oxford, Ohio, delivered the Friday lechue on January 23rd in Annapolis. His subject was the dramatic structure of "Prometheus Bound." 1957 Mrs. Arnold Daane of Cambridge, Md., received a Christmas message in December alleged to be from her son, Navy Lt. Cdr. Hugh Allen Stafford. Cdr. Stafford, identified by the �Department of the Navy as a prisoner of the North Vietnamese, sent his message over Radio Hanoi, and a tape was given Mrs. Daane by the Navy. Cdr. Stafford was shot down over Haiphong August 31, 1967, while on his 31st combat mission. Although Mrs. Daane could not positively identify the taped voice as that of her son, several letters and a postcard written in apparently fresh ink indicate that he is indeed alive and well. 1966 Jonathan Alfred Kaplan and Abigail Winston Ewert of New York City were married in Dedham, Mass., on November 1, 1969. The bride was graduated from Winsor School and the Boston Conservatory, in dance. Kenneth H. Thompson sends a most interesting brief of his activities. An assistant professor of political science at the University of California, Dr. 11wmpson is devoting full time this academic year to his research on comparative politics. He is one of twenty political scientists in the nation to be awarded a Ford Foundation Faculty Research Fellowship for the year 1969-70. Mrs. Thompson is an assistant professor of sociology at Scripps College, where she is a colleague of Harry Neumann '52. The Thompsons have just built a mountain home at Big Bear Lake in the San Bernardino Mountains near Los Angeles. Dr. Thompson also writes that they have visited former dean Curtis Wilson and his family in La Jolla, Cal. 1961 Darrell L. Henry, president of the Alumni Association and Zoning Hearing Officer for Anne Arundel County (Md.), resigned the second of those positions to enter practice with an Annapolis law firm on February 12th. Mr. Henry received his law degree from the U niversity of Baltimore in 196 5. Did you know that Artlmr I. Simon was the discoverer and is now the manager of Goldie Hawn, the zany blonde featured in television's weekly show, "Laugh In"? 1963 Dr. Oliver M. Korshin visited the Santa Fe campus last November, He works for the U. S. Public Health Service out of San Francisco, and makes his home across the Bay in Tiburon. 1964 Stephen C. Fineberg writes from Athens, where, although a "confirmed philologist," he has been studying at the American School for Classical Studies this year. He plans to be back at the University of Texas next year, pursuing his doctoral work. Mr. Fineberg's experience in Athens has "opened whole new perspectives on antiquity" for him. "It was something of a rude awakening to discover that the Greece of the 19th century romantics ... was in fact {and is) excessively muddy, sweaty, and above all very noisy." 1965 David R. L1chterman lectured in Annapolis on Friday, February 27th. His subject was "Selfhood and Reason," concerning Kant's distinction between theoretical and practical reason. Mr. Lachterman is a lecturer in the Department of Philosophy at Syracuse University, and a Fellow, Institute in Greek Philosophy and Science, Colorado Coilege. 1966 Ian M. Harris writes that he received his M.A. degree last spring from Temple University, and that he is now enrolled in a doctoral program at Temple. Michael Weaver in November was awarded a tuition schobrship and a graduate assistantship in the University of Cincinnati's Depart" ment of Philosophy. 1967 Gay (Singer) Baratta writes a most appealing letter about the life which she and husband Joseph '69 are leading in Israel He has just finished an intensive Hebrew language course, and has started a program for potential teachers. Mrs. Baratta is a computer systems programmer at the Israel Institute of Technology. Their apartment in Haifa has a view of the entire city, the Mediterranean Sea, and the coast. The Barattas both, to quote Mrs. Baratta, " ... find the goals of the St. John's language tutorial vividly realized in living here; learning and living with a new language really makes one think about what bnguage is supposed to accomplish--and how it does it." Richardson B. Gill, San Antonio, Tex., business executive, has announced his candidacy for the U. S. House of Representatives. He will try to unseat incumbent 0. C. Fisher, a 28-year veteran of the Congress. Mr. Gill is president and chairman of the Board of Richard Gill Properties and of Gillsons Co., both of San Antonio, and a vice president of the El Rancho Grande Hotel Co. of Brownsville and San Antonio. 1968 William R. and Rebecca (McClure) Albury celebrated the arrival of their second child, Alicia Frances, on February 13th. Alicia's father is now a graduate student in the history of sci- ence at the Hopkins, while her mother is completing work for her bachelor's degree in the Evening College of the same university. Christopher Ballmer (SF), replying to the mailing about the Italian charter flight, regretted that, since he was on " ... a 52-week deluxe Vietnam holiday ... ," he could not possibly consider the one to Italy. Jane-Ellen (Milord) Long writes that she is Book Editor and a member of the cat1Iog department at Schwann, the Boston publisher of a well-known record catalog. According to a recent letter from his father, David I. Moss (SF) is currently enrolled in the rabbinical program at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York. During his first year after graduation, the younger Mr. Moss was a student at Hebrew University in Jerusalem. 'While in Israel he learned the exacting art of Torah calligraphy, and has gained some recognition designing marriage contracts for his friends. His father reports his son finds New York very noisy after Santa Fe and Jerusalem. Donald J. and Marilynne (Wiiis) Schell announce with joy the arrival of Patience Alexandra (Sasha), born in New York City on the 19th of February. Mr. Schell is a second-year student at General Theological Seminary. Mrs. ScheU has completed one semester toward her master's degree in Early Childhood and Elementary Education at New York UniverSity. 1969 Miriam A. Cunningham and Michael J. Cohen were married on November 23, 1969, and are making their home in Brooklyn, N. Y. Linda Torcaso and Mark Bernstein were married on December 28th in Washington, .D.C. They are now living in Philadelphia where she is a first-year student at the University of Pennsylvania Law School, and he is a research associate at the Franklin Institute Museum. Wendy Watson (SF) and Kirk Cheyiitz SF'68 were married several months ago in Washington, D.C., and are making their home in that city. In Memoriam 1909-Col. Everett LeC. Cook, Washington, D.C., January 8, 1970. 1912-Col. Charles R. Jones, San Antonio, Tex., January 20, 1970. 1915-Howard Claude, Galena, Md., February 25, 1970. 1916-Col. Gabriel T. Mackenzie, Kendall, Fla., January 12, 1970. 1920-Dr. Joseph J. Klebach, Scranton, Pa. 1922-William D. K Aldridge, Chestertown, Md., Summer, 1969. Philip H. Cooper, Phoenix, Md., July 26, 1969. Edgar F. Voelcker, Baltimore, Md., November I, 1969. 1923-BGen. William C. Baxter, Phoenix, Md., January 29, 1970. 1926--George A. Woodward, Crofton, Md., January !2, 1970. 1931-Henry S. Emrich, Pacific Palisades, Cal., March 7, 1970. 1933-Cad S. Thomas, Easton, Md., November 24, 1969. 193 5-MGen. George M. Ge1ston, Lutherville, Md., February 17, 1970. 1937-Herbert K. Clayton, Baltimore, Md., December 1, 1969. �The College St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland 21404 Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The College </em>(1969-1981) Description An account of the resource St. John's College's Office of the Dean published <em>The College</em> from 1969 to 1981. The publication superseded <em><a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/37" title="The Bulletin of St. John's College">The Bulletin of St. John's College</a></em>.  <em>The College</em> was in turn continued by <a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/13" title="The St. John's Review"><em>The St. John's Review</em></a> in 1981.  <br /><br />A separate magazine for St. John's alumni titled <em>The College </em>began publication in 2001, continuing <em>The St. John's Reporter</em>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The College" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=12">Items in the The College Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource 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 Santa Fe, NM Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thecollegemagazine 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. 24 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Development Offices of St. John's College Title A name given to the resource The College, April 1970 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1970-04 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Berns, Laurence Felter, Mary P. Parran, Jr., Thomas Trimmer, Maurice Sullivan, Daniel Description An account of the resource Volume XXII, Number 1 of The College. Published in April 1970. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context The_College_Vol_22_No_1_1970 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 The College https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/e86bde4b673c857fe2f13ca703ad4eb3.pdf a9f8fcf62a0de8be4959ae3200520f8d PDF Text Text THE COLLEGE St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland Santa Fe, New Mexico July 1970 �The College Cover: Michael Faraday. Inside Front Cover: McDowell Hall, Annapolis. The College is a publication for friends of St. John's College and for those who might become friends of the College, if they came to know it. Our aim is to indicate, within the limitations of the magazine form, why, in our opinion, St. John's comes closer than any other college in the nation to being what a college should be. If ever well-placed beacon lights were needed by American education it is now. By publishing articles about the work of the College, articles reflecting the distinctive life of the mind that is the College, we hope to add a watt or two to the beacon light that is St. John's. Editor: Laurence Berns Managing Editor: Mary P. Felter Alumni Editor: Thomas Farran, Jr. Editorial Assistant: Maurice Trimmer Art Editor: Daniel Sullivan, '71 The College is published by the Development Offices of St. John's College, College Avenue, Annapolis, Maryland 21404 (Julius Rosenberg, Director), and Santa Fe, New Mexico (Frank McGuire, Director); Member, American Alumni Council. President, St. John's College, Richard D. Weigle. In the July Issue: I The Number of My Loves, by Charles G. Bell. Published four times a year in April, July, September, and December. Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. Commencement Address, Annapolis, 1970, by Reverend J. Winfree Smith. . 3 Faraday's Thought on Electromagnetism, by Thomas K. Simpson. 6 July 1970 No.2 17 News on the Campuses 18 Alumni Activities Vol. XXII Prayers, by Michael S. Littleton. 27 �Commencement Address Annapolis, 1970 By THE REVEREND J. WINFREE SMITH In a church near London there is a plaque with the following inscription: In the year 1653, when all things sacred in the kingdom Were either profaned or demolished, This Church was built by Sir Richard Shirley, Baronet, Whose singular praise it was To do the best things in the worst times And hope them in the most calamitous. These times in which we live are not the worst times or the most calamitous. But they are bad times and they threaten worse and more calamitous times. In the United States of America we have special troubles which arise partly from our power and our wealth, but also and maybe consequently from a disrespect for law. We can understand how for many black people and others among us "law" means only an instrument of injustice and oppres- sion. It has, however, been the greatness of the United States as a political society to have combined law and freedom, to have made freedom possible by means of law which is the only way it is possible. We must think both of the common law and of constitutional law. Murder committed by Black Panthers endangers society; committed by police, it endangers society even more. Arson, whether committed by the frustrated poor in ghettos or by frustrated students on campuses, is as criminal as arson anywhere and is not to be justified as a form of rhetoric. There can be no freedom where men fear the destruction of their lives and the external means of living them. A concern for life and property is not necessarily a bourgeois concern. We the people of the United States in adopting the Constitution declared in the words of that document that it was to be the supreme law of the land. Sometimes those whose very powers depend upon the Constitution speak and act in such a way as to contravene it. The Congress in passing the Omnibus Crime Bill of 1968 may have been acting in response to the mood of the people and with respect for one kind of law. But in doing so they were also attacking the independent authority of the Supreme Court. The President, when recently the Senate was about to vote on a certain nomination to that Court, referred to himself as "the one person entrusted by the Constitution with the power of appointment" of Supreme Court justices. He was forgetting or deliberately ignoring the constitutional, and by no means nominal, requirement, that such appointments be made only with the advice and consent of the Senate. Furthermore, it is hard to avoid the conclusion that those who talk most about law and order are not deeply concerned to preserve the law contained in the Bill of Rights, the law that directly protects specific freedoms. Americans who would not have their country destroyed will respect both the common law and constitutional law and will respect legal processes for the removal of unjust law. They will refuse to be "polarized" no matter who may be playing on which of their passions to attract them to this pole or repel them from that. In independence of soul they will not allow the present confusion of good and evil to overwhelm their power to discriminate them. Many teachers in our colleges and universities, as well as many students, are determined that those institutions shall as such become active in political affairs. There may be occasions when such institutions have to act politically. For instance, it would surely be their duty to resist by all lawful political means a measure such as that not long ago proposed in Congress, though not passed, to require every college "to adopt an approved code of conduct for its students and teachers before it or they could be eligible for federal aid." The reason it would be their duty is that such a measure would destroy the independence of the educational institution. A college is of service politically exactly by keeping itself out of political action. It is of service because its independence does not mean indifference, but rather the occasion and the freedom to discuss and debate political issues with rational detachment, which is the only way to obtain light upon them. It is a truly amazing thing that some teachers and students do not believe in such debate or the possibility of any rational detachment. They have become champions of blind action. Although I have never seen it defined, I suppose that the name "activists" refers to such champions. The action they desire they often call "revolution," which is also not defined, but it seems to mean destroying all human institutions. There is an echo of Marxism in this though I �The College without the painstaking Marxist argument designed to show that in capitalist society all law and government, all religious and educational institutions are derivative from that society and in the dialectic of history destined to be destroyed along with it. In these bad times we who belong to this small college, but all the greater for being small, often feel ourselves to be like the philosopher in the 6th book of Plato's Republic who amid the circumstances of actual political life is like one "in the storm of dust and sleet which the driving wind hurries along." If we retire to the shelter of a wall it is partly to get a place where we may begin to see and understand what is going on in that storm and what should and could be done about it. And if we sometimes manage to ignore the storm, we do not consider that we are self-indulgent for there is a seraph that constantly whispers to us that we have a true self that is above the storm, and that knowledge belongs to another world and is itself good. Others hurrying past may call to us to leave our shelter and join them. They think it is no time for business as usual. They do not know that when it is a question of the business in which we arc engaged it is always time for business as usual. Last year's com1nencement speaker referred to our pro~ gram and the character of our studies as presupposing the authority of intellect. Let me stress the word "authority." The authority of intellect is not the authority of doctrine. St. John's College has no authoritative doctrine. But it is devoted to asking questions about all things around us. This asking of questions is meaningful not because we can always find answers, but because learning occurs. That genuine learning does occur means that the intellect is not a servant or an instrument, but that it has authority. Graduates of the Class of I 970, I bid you do the best things in these bad times and in the worst times if such should overtake you. Cultivate temperance in political judgment and action. Cultivate the courage to stand firm for reason and sense against unreason and nonsense. Sup~ port what justice there is in our laws, our institutions, and our ways without losing sight of a higher justice by which they must be measured. Be intemperate and erotic in the quest for wisdom and understanding. Value charity and humility since he who hates or contemns his brother 2 abides in death, as someone has said. What hope can I offer you for the future of this earth? I do not know. Things do not look good. The future is perhaps not as much within man's hands as he has persuaded himself in our modern era. It is, of course, my own belief that it is in the hands of a beneficent God, and that is ground for hope. If you do not share that belief, is there some ground? Ignorance of the future is not reason for despair, but neither is it reason for hope. Yet I would pray that it be your singular praise, no matter how bad the times, not only to do, but to find it possible to hope, the best things. The Reverend Joseph Winfree Smith, Jr., Tutor at St. John's College, Annapolis, received his B.D. degree from the Virginia Theological Seminary and his Ph.D. degree from the University of Virginia. He was Rector of St. Paul's Church, Ivy Depot, Virginia, from 1939 to 1941. In 1959 he was awarded the Addison E. Mullikin Tutorship. He has lectured on Aristotle's Metaphysics, Aristotle's Ethics, John Calvin, Ptolemy, and Kepler's astronomy. Students and Tutors have profited from his notes on the number and ratio books of Euclid, his paper on Ptolemy's "TI1eory of the Moon," and his introduction to and translation of Vi6tc's Introduction to the Analytical Art. For some 25 years students have benefited from his Tuesday evening extracurricular classes on the New Testament. �The Number of My Loves Selections By CHARLES G. BELL In flaming And is still . From the Preface . . . But what is the whole field of love? It is not comprised of sex, romance, and marriage. Despite all attempts of materialists and reductionists in all ages to fumigate nature of everything more anthropomorphic than particles in motion, embodied attraction retains and will retain some- thing of the mystery and ambiguity of love. No less with us than with Dante "the love that moves the sun and other stars" stretches from gravity through electrical and chemical affinities to hunger, lust, the quest for knowledge, the longing for God. "Our soul is restless until it rest in Thee ...." The Act Dante, who witnessed heaven and hell, Found both fashioned out of flame. In the passion of this calm, Feel love's keel wake worlds of pain. From Part II Dogwood and Flowering Judas From Part I Moss-green Far in the spruce wood, through the stained Twilight over the needled ground, A space opens, as under water, brimmed With sky and green, where a spruce tree has died. To stretch out on the cinquefoil of that ground: Wood sorrel, bunch berry, goldthread, A walnut gnawed, a robin's egg, Coil of a snail, gray feather of a dove. Child of death, come with me Over the brown-stained ground, To the round heart of birth, Love-luminous, moss-green. Te,Dea The well That floats the leaf And flower, Drowning them; The flame That wraps itself Cornel, a Florentine profile, Snow-maiden, Quatrefoil dawn-flower; Redbud, Venetian puta:na, Spilling the Wine of noon's orgies; In the garden of the heartGod saidLet them bloom together. From Part III Rainsong of Fish and Birds A long drought. In the heat of this afternoon Unaccountably the birds Begin to sing. I go with mask and snorkel to the pool. Dive. Fish come round me: black bass, goggle-eye, brim, Flowing and retreating, expectant among The water-weed. When I come up for air, The liquid interface is dimpled with white spume, 3 �The College Rustling on the water; thunder shakes the trees; And the birds are singing in a gust of rain. Love of Number How cause and wish Foreknowledge, chance and deed Rustle around us dark and luminous as rain. ONE 1 Giant Spruce To climb that liquidly resilient up the air, To take fixed and swaying all year the wind and rain, To point branch over branch the skyward bone of the spire, And trail for the nuture of light sun-terraces of green, Through centuries to unfold the templet shape we areHere conqueror, earth-waster, lift fire-eyes of pain and say: "I might have been life-rooted, like that tree." The point alone. Dilate it (birdcall, waves in a pond, Circle and sphere, in the gravity of onesness, raindrops, stars) Cleaves an in from out, other from same Self-reflecting TWO Since every actual round Stretches on some axis, oblate dividing star, Breeds the antinomy of poles. Fix on the void betweenIn turbulence the axis mounts a thrust Bisecting: pyramid of THREE From Part IV Dunghill Harbinger Only the poor keep roosters. In the dark before the dawn From every moonvine porch And shanty ridgepole breaks The raw confirmatory cry. The suburbs of the rich are silent. A Fly Thrown into the Fire The black body shrinks and hisses Fringed with lightWhat stretched the neck, what preened Head and wings, Changed to incandescenceAll flesh grass In the hands of the living God. 4 Timaeus' flame. From there to four asks toil, vertex Split apart; asks skill, to draw them equally, balance the post And lintel temple of the year, Roma Quadrata, Circumscribed FOUR Too perfect. Reason's limit. Beyond is miracle. Call imagination back to the sphere, the wave four had stilled: Golden section, curling vine, petals, starfish, Undulant and dancing sea-barn fluent FIVE Love would rest there. But in rest knows the cold descent of rule More than quadrate order where all the waters close Lost to love and play, tyranny of bees The radial crystal �July 1970 SIX The Berlin Titian From that ice cage We reach out any way. Numbers Where Venus in the lap of flesh, Subdued by music, cleaves her thighs, The lover plays; only his eyes Pursue those generous valleys, flank and breast. Infinite: seven music's prime, closed in the octilgon, The gods' ennead nine, three threes, And one, Gothic TEN Endecasyllable Hourly market dozen and the haunted Gulf thirteen ... But all of them born of Pythagorean five By the breeding on female two of male And numberless But in a landscape broad as dream, Brown fields and mountains in dim light, The curtained carriage of his thought Drives to a stable, drawn by a plunging team. Being on its downward course Delays in music, delegates the act; Love's home unentered is the root Whose flower is beauty, whose seed is force. ONE From Part V Midsummer Night in Aspen Meadows Winding down three valleys from fir mountains Converging pastures, flickering fires in dark nowThe world I say is like that: multi-dimensional Comet-slug, shaping time-space landings as it goes. And by each eye of fire, in the eave of God's nativity, Krishna dancers, bongo hippes, single acid brooder, Spin the cocoon of vision, inwardness as always Reaching out-to be the whole earth-river, Charles G. Bell was born in Greenville, Mississippi. He received a B.S. degree from the University of Virginia ( 1936), a Rhodes Scholarship, a B.A. degree (1938), a B. Lilt. degree (1939), and an M.A. degree ( 1966), all at Oxford University. He has been both a Research Assistant in Physics and an Assistant Professor of English at Princeton University, an Assistant ProfeSsor of Humanities at the University of Chicago, a Guest Professor at the University of Frankfurt, a Guest Professor in the Honours Program at the University of Puerto Rico, and a Fulbright Professor in the Technische Hochscule in Munich. In addition he has been awarded with Rockefeller and Ford Foundation grants. He was a tutor at St. John's College, Annapolis, from 1956 to 1967 when he joined the College at Santa Fe. Mr. Bell is the author of two volumes of verse, Songs for a New America (1953), revised edition, Dunwoody, Georgia: Norman S. Berg, 1966; and Delta Return (1956), revised edition, same publisher, 1969. He is also the author of the first two parts of a novel triology The Married Land, Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1962, and The Halt Gods, same publisher, 1968. Both his life and writings testify to his aim to bring art and science into organic union. Glacier of marging soul-fires down black mountains, The comet filled with eyes, it cannot be ... and is . • • • 5 �Faraday's Thought on Electromagnetism By THOMAS K. SIMPSON This is part of the first chapter of a study of a neglected great book, James Clerk Maxwell's Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism. The Treatise appeared on the original reading list of the new program, but apparently was taken off just in time for my senior year in 1950; I never read it as a student. Apparently it was a hard book to incorporate in the program. The problem of my study is, really, how to read a book of analytic mathematical physics. Interestingly, it develops that the book and the problem are well matched, since Maxwell, writing one af the last great works of natural philosophy, is wrestling with the question, how to write a book of analytic mathematical physics in such a way that it can be read with understanding. Maxwell wages a relentless struggle with the symbols throughout the book, trying all the while to develop a rhetoric of mathematical physics which will make the equations intelligible. 'I11e present chapter is not about the Treatise, however, but about another great book (also a dropout from the reading list), Faraday's Experimental Researches in Electricity. The reason why the study starts with the wrong book is given in the first pages. (Author) development. But Maxwell not only draws upon Faraday as his source; in a curious way he makes this source the object of his work as well. We are directed back to Faraday, to read with renewed apreciation and understanding: If by anything I have here written I may assist any student in understanding Faraday's modes of thought and expression, I shall regard it as the accomplishment of one of my principal aims-to communicate to others the same delight which I have found my_ self in reading Faraday's Researches 2 It is therefore essential that the present study of Maxwell's Treatise should begin with some consideration of Faraday's Experimental Researches. No summary can convey either the content or the character of Faraday's writings. As perhaps the ultimate example of their genre, the literature of scientific inquiry organized episodically in linked series, they are a texture of speculation and intelligent experiment so interwoven that it is virtually impossible to isolate significant sections from their context or detail. The point of the work is in effect this very mass of theme and variation. What I hope to do in this chapter, rather, is first to discuss the nature of science as Faraday conceives and practices it, and then to In an extraordinary way, Maxwell's Treatise vn Electricity and Magnetism presupposes that the reader is already familiar with another book, Faraday's Experimental Researches in Electricity. One can indeed master the Treatise without having read Faraday, bnt such an approach cannot lead to the understanding which Maxwell deeply desires to share with the reader. Many wbrks refer repeatedly to a single principal source, but there must be few which command their readers as Maxwell does in a footnote to Chapter III of Part IV: "Read Faraday's Experimental Researches, Series i and ii." 1 As I have asserted earlier, Maxwell has designed his Treatise as a faithful translation of Faraday's Researches, and throughout, Faraday is the mainspring of the work and the guide to its Copyrighted by T. K. Simpson 1 James Clerk MaxweB, A Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism (3rd ed., 2 vols.; Oxford: 1892), 2, p. 178. (This is the edition cur~ rently available in a Dover reprint.) 6 identify certain principal insights which Faraday tended to bring to bear on electromagnetism in his later work. These last constitute the primary material with which Maxwell works in Part IV of the Treatise. Since it appears to me that these insights, however powerful, by no means constitute a theory, I have titled the present chapter simply "Faraday's Thought on Electromagnetism," and not "Faraday's Theory." As we shall see, one way of looking at the "translation" of Faraday's ideas which Maxwell accomplishes is exactly as the transformation from the mode of empirical inquiry in which the Researches are cast, to that of theory, demonstrated in a systematic treatise. Faraday developed two concepts which became increasingly significant in his thought about magnetic and electromagnetic effects. One was of course his concept of "lines of force." He was impressed by this notion early when he spoke of the lines merely as representations, and 2 Maxwell, Treatise, 1, p. xi. �July 1970 called them, as others did, the "magnetic cnrves." Toward the end of his work, they bore nearly the whole bnrden of his thought on these topics, and he speculated increasingly about their possible "physical existence." The other fundamental concept was that of the electrotonic state. This is now less familiar to students of science, but for Faraday it was both significant and deeply troubling, and he returned to it, as Maxwell points out, again and again from its first introduction in connection with the induction experiments of Series I in 1831, to the end. Faraday was convinced that the surge of current which he ob- science. However brilliantly he succeeded in self-education in other areas, he apparently never felt it necessary to acquire the mathematics he had missed. The result is that he does not have before him with any vividness that universal paradigm of a reasoned deductive system, toward which virtually all competent physics over the ages has tried to shape itself. In particular, Faraday apparently never studied Euclid; he has no working notion of a system of axioms and postulates, or of reasoning leading with logical rigor to universal theorems. There is at least the possibility that this innocence--of served in the secondary circuit in electromagnetic induc- mathematics represents not merely accidental ignorance, tion could not occur unless the secondary conductor had been initially in a state of electric tension. which was relaxed when the primary circuit was broken. The term but a deliberate rejection. We are blessed with the record of a remarkable exchange of correspondence between Faraday and Andre-Marie Ampere, the French philosopher and mathematical physicist, whose work on electrodynamics Duhem once called "a theory which dispenses with the Frenchman's need to envy the Englishman's pride in the glory of Newton." Here Faraday confronts his opposite, a brilliant mathematical theorist, and in the course of the correspondence Faraday finds occasion to describe his view of his own role. We shall return to this in greater detail below, but note this reaction of Faraday's when confronted with a mathematical argument of Ampere's: I regret that my deficiency in mathematical knowledge makes me dull in comprehending these subjects. I am naturally skeptical in the matter of theories and therefore you must not be angry with me for not admitting the one you have advanced immediately.. 3 This skepticism of theory, I believe, turns him away from mathematics almost on principle. He tends to regard ''electrotonic" was manufactured to express this electric tension. As we shall see, Maxwell's translation of Faraday's thought on electromagnetism turns about these two notions, the "lines of force" and the "electrotonic state." For Maxwell, then, these will become fundamental concepts in a connected theory. But what sort of use does Faraday himself make of them? I think it becomes clear on a reading of the Experimental Researcl1es that Faraday does not use them as elements of a scientific theory in any formal sense. Even if we were not to ask for a connected or complete theory, doubt arises whether concepts in Faraday's hands even tend toward inclusion in a provisional theoretical structure. The question, indeed, becomes more fundamental: does science, for Faraday, grow toward a theoretical shape, or does it develop toward something else altogether, not theory, but an account of a different kind? We might attempt to answer the question by putting Faraday's account to certain tests, asking it to do the kinds of things theories are expected to do: to solve "problems," to "predict" phenomena on the basis of certain given con- dictions, or to yield general "theorems" through logical argument from assumed premises. But these functions, though they are surely among the proper tasks of an effective scientific theory, are precisely those which Faraday does not undertake. Faraday was almost totally uneducated in mathematics. It is difficult to grasp the significance of this fact for mathematicians as operating on a height, while his own work, as experimentalist, is close to nature, and to fact; it would be a mistake, I believe, to overlook the element of pride which mixeS with humility in his descriptions of his more modest work. In a moment of triumph following upon the discovery of electromagnetic induction and the explanation it afforded of the Arago disk phenomenon, he wrote to his friend Richard Phillips: 3 Faraday to AmpCre, Sept. 3, 1822. "L. de Launay," Correspondance du Grand Ampb-e ( 3 vo1s.; Paris: Gauthier-Villiars, 1936-1943), 3, p. 911. 7 �The College It is quite comfortable to me to find that experiment need not quail before mathematics, but is quite competent to rival it in discovery; and I am amazed to find that what the high mathematicians have announced as the essential condition to the rotation ... has so little foundation ... .< There is a suggestion of a mora] note in Faraday's rejection of theory, as will become clearer when we look at his characterizations of the true form which science should take. In relation to mathematics, this passage from the work which Faraday early adopted as his pocket guide, Isaac Watts's Improvement of the Mind, may be significant: But a penetration into the abstruse difficulties and depths of modern algebra and fluxions, the various methods of quadratures ... and twenty other things that some modern mathematicians deal in, are not worth the labour of those who design either of the three learned professions . . . This is the sentence of a considerable man . . . who was a very good proficient writer on these subject; he affirms, that they are but barren and airy studies for a man entirely to live. upon ... He adds further, concerning the launching into the depth of these studies, that they are apt to beget a secret and refined pride, an over-bearing vanity, the most opposite temper to the true spirit of the go~el. 'I11is tempts them to presume on a kind of omniscience in respect to their fellow-creatures, who have not risen to their elevation . .. 5 Faraday remained, in a phrase he used without, I think, any hint of apology, an "unmathematical philosopher." Maxwell grew up solving problems; as a child, he carried them with him for spare moments, calling them his "props"; as a man, he filled his Treatise with them. By contrast, for all we know, no teacher may ever have set Faraday a problem, ever assigned him certain "givens" and required him to find the corresponding "unknowns." 4 Bence Jones, The Life and Letters of Faraday {2 vo1s.; Philade1phia: 1870), 2, p. 10. 5 Isaac Watts, The Improvement of the Mind (Washington, D. C.: 1813)' p. 213. 8 Naturally enough, then, he does not think of his .electromagnetic notions as serving this purpose, and a reader can-· not make much of the Experimental Researches if he comes to them with this criterion in mind. It is not only that Faraday cannot perform the operations of algebra or geometry, that he can make only a first approximation to a quantitative argument of any complexity. It is not only that he uses spatial images and models where others would work with number and symbol. It is not that he uses brief arguments where others would construct theorems. To a degree, these may all be true of Faraday, but -as I express them they suggest defects; in Faraday's case, they must be construed as aspects of his special strength. His steps are not weak and faltering, his works are not those of a man who hesitantly approaches a language he has not properly learned. Faraday (for all the humility which has been attributed to him) steps forth proudly, and while he is generally cautious and of course always modest in his public claims, he speaks with a voice as confident and firm as that of any scientist who knows the strengths of his own method. He is speaking a different language from that of the theoretical scientist. He is not stepping hesitantly toward a mathematical physics; he is marching confidently along a different road. He has indeed no notion of theory as a goal of science. In retrospect, this is a fantastic situation. In the land of Newton, at a time when mathematical physics was again flourishing, some of the most creative scientific work of the century in a new and more difficult area of physics was done over a long period of years by a man who had no notion of the Principia and did not share either Newton's methods or his goals. For Faraday, Newton's classic triumph was quite meaningless, the triumph which had polarized the intellectual life of Europe for a century. How can the historian of science understand the success of such a deep and total disruption of any reasonable continuity in the scientific enterprise? Perhaps the ultimate challenge for the present study is to lay the groundwork for finding the significance of the Faraday-Maxwell episode in the development of mathematical physics. Physics seems indeed to have profited immensely from this instance of amnesia in its work, but it is well to keep in mind that the fact that this one course was followed does �July 1970 not m.ean that it was in principle a necessary "stage'' of development, or that it was ultimately for the "best." There is a sense in which the serious historian must always weigh alternative histories. On the Continent there were of course a number of highly competent scientists at work on the topics which concerned Faraday, both mathematicians and experimentalists, and I think one may reasonably suppose that most of Faraday's discoveries would before long have been made by others whose thought was in the tradition stemming from Newton. The great Newtonian counterpart of Faraday was Ampere, but there were many others, Weber, the Neumanns (father and son), Kirchoff, Lorenz, Helmholtz, Boltzmann, Hertz. There were at once capable mathematicians and skillful searchers; had electromagnetic theory developed in the hands of such workers without the peculiar turn of thought given it by Faraday and Maxwell, it is quite conceivable that physics might have passed into the modern era, more or less on schedule, as a more purely mathematical discipline, and without the digression marked by the "field" concept. Accordingly to a number of critics, the field concept was never systematically necessary, and has been the source of much confusion, beginning with the Treatise itself' Faraday's unmathematical physics, therefore, developed and interpreted as it was by Maxwell, may have diverted science from a more rational course of development which would have made little or no use of the concept of the "field," but would have left nope of the phenomena unaccounted for. What then is Faraday's concept of science? It is evi- 6 The classic criticism of Maxwell's theory is Pierre Duhem, Les Theories Electriques de f. Clerk Maxwell (Paris: Hermann, 1902). Outstanding among the more recent critics is O'Rahilly, who recommends a direct particle/particle interaction equation in the tradition of Wilhelm Weber. Alfred O'Rahilly, Electromagnetics: a Discussion of Fundamentals ( 19 35), reprinted as Electromagnetic Fundamentals ( 2 vols.; New York: Dover Publications, 1965), especially pp. 645 ff. See also J. A. Wheeler and R. P. Feynman, "Classical Electrodynamics in Terms of Direct Interparticle Action," Reviews of Modern Physics, 21 (1949), pp. 425 ff., and articles by Parry Moon and D. E. Spencer, among them "A New Electrodynamics," Journal of the Franklin Institute, 257 (1954), pp. 369 ff., and "Electromagnetism without Magnetism," Amer. J. ot Physics, 22 ( 1954), pp. 120 fl. dent that he is not merely an experimentalist, cleverly providing data for theoreticians to work up into theories. On the contrary, Faraday had one of the most fertile and insistent of speculative minds; in a certain sense, he was constantly producing new hypotheses and his mind was constantly reasoning from them. The result of this, reported in the thousands of paragraphs of the Experimental Researches .rnd the still more numerous paragraphs of the Diary, is not theory; but a vast weaving and unweaving of powers, a process of discovery and identification, a great, highly unified formulary for the production and classification of effects. Faraday, as Tyndall proclaimed and all the world agreed, is the great "discoverer"; the paradigm for Faraday is Odysseus rather than Euclid: he travels from land to land, reporting wonders, guided by legend and myth, rumor or divine love. For Odysseus, the dominant desire is to see men's cities and to know their minds, and to gather all this together in the return to Ithaca. For Faraday, it is to investigate all the powers of nature, and to unveil them as essentially one, in the lecture hall on Albemarle Street. If Faraday did not learn this from Homer, he was moved to it by Dr. Watts: Let the hope of new discoveries, as well as the satisfaction and pleasure of known truths, animate your daily industry. Do not think learning in general is arrived at its perfection, or that the knowledge of any particular subject in any science cannot be improved, merely because it has lain five hundred or a thousand years without improvement. The present age, by the blessing of God on the ingenuity and diligence of men, has brought to light such truths in natural philosophy, and such discoveries in the heavens and the earth as seemed to be beyond the reach of man ... Do not hover always on the surface of things, nor take up suddenly with mere appearances; but penetrate into the depth of matters ... 7 Here is Faraday's own characterization of his hope for his chosen science of electricity, in a passage which opens the famous Series XI on induction: The science of electricity is in that state in which 7 Watts, Improvement of the Mind, p. 24. 9 �The College every part of it requires experimental investigation; is just now of far more importance, the development given to Odysseus to talk with Athena, face to face? This is not theoretical physics; as has been suggested, it is essentially chemistry, not in the modern sense of of the means by which the old effects are produced, Lavoisier, but as a science of powers, in the tradition of and the consequent more accurate determination of von Belmont and Stahl.10 We might best understand Faraday as the disciple of Davy, and the Researches as the evolution of a coherent chemistry of electromagnetism. The translation of Faraday which Maxwell is to accomplish in the Treatise must be, among other things, the transformation of this chemistry into the form of a mathematical theory worthy of admission to the halls of Trinity. In this, it must he like the historic transformation of Greek thought from the mode of Homer to that of Euclid. The Experimental Researches are dense with questionsFaraday's method is that of unremitting inquiry. The not merely for the discovery of new effects, but what the first principles of action of the most extraordinary and universal power in nature:-and to those philosophers who pursue the inquiry zealously yet cautiously, combining experiment with analogy, sus~ picious of their preconceived notions, paying more respect to a fact than a theory, not too hasty to generalize, and above all things, willing at every step to cross-·examine their own opinions, both by reasoning and experiment, no branch of knowledge can afford so fine and ready a field for discovery as this. Such is more abundantly shown to be the case by the progress which electricity has made in the last thirty years: Chemistry and Magnetism have successively acknowledged its overruling influence; and it is probable that every effect depending upon the powers of inorganic matter, and perhaps most of those related to vegetable and animal life, will ultimately be found subordinate to it. (XR if360) 8 In one paragraph Faraday has given both his vision of nature, and the method of science proportioned to it. He describes an impasse in the science of electricity-one in which phenomena are known in plenty, but first principles are lacking. To another man, this would look like a situation which called for a theory; but for Faraday, this is precisely the situation which calls for "experimental investigation"; it is a "fine and ready ... field for discovery." What is to be sought? Not axioms or laws, but the principles of action of a power-the most universal in nature, which moves all of the inorganic world and perhaps for the most part the plants and animals as well. This is not something to he resolved with paper and pencil, hut by facts: we very notion of a "series" of researches is, in a sense, that of a chain of linked questions and answers. Before we bring our own questions to bear on Faraday's work, let us listen briefly to the questions Faraday asks of himself. The underlying question for Faraday is always the same: what really exists in nature? The practical form which this takes is that of the test: what will happen if I do this? Can I produce the phenomenon, the visible or tangible evidence, which will be the sure symptom of the existence of this or that suspected power or state? Think, for example, of the discovery of the diamagnetic force. (XR, Series 19 & 20). Faraday had first sought to reveal the state of strain in a dielectric, to which the curved lines of electric action were already a clue; using polarized light, he hoped to make manifest the existence of the hypothesized lines of action of contiguous particles. This failing, he asked the analogous question for the curved lines of action of the magnetic force: do lines of strain really exist in a diamagnetic medium? When this succeeded, and the plane of polarized light was rotated on passage through his "heavy glass" in a strong magnetic field, he announced see that for Faraday, the causes, the "first principles," are not laws but themselves facts, to be unveiled to observation in the laboratory. We should remember that it was 8 The notation (XR i/360) refers to Faraday's Experimental Researches in Electricity, volume i, p. 360, of the original edition, which is reproduced with the same pagination in the current Dover reprint. 10 9 It is impossible not to point out the striking appropriateness of the epithet which Homer regularly assigns to Odysseus: in his laboratory, Faraday is indeed the man "of many devices." 1H "In a very real sense, all his discoveries were chemical if chemistry be defined (as it was by Faraday) as the science of the powers of matter." L. P. Williams, in Lancclot "Wbyte, ed., Roger Joseph Boscovich (London: Allen & Unwin, 1961), p. 163. �July 1970 that he had: ... at last succeeded in magnetizing and electrifying a ray of light, and in illuminating a magnetic line of force. (XR iii/2) By this, he says in a note, he . . . intended to express that the line of magnetic force was illuminated as the earth is illuminated by the sun, or the spider's web illuminated by the astronomer's lamp. Employing a ray of light, we can tell by the eye, the direction of the magnetic lines through a body ... (XR iii/2) This I believe is a paradigm of Faraday's concept of science: to make manifest to the eye what is suspected to exist in nature. In one of his last writings about the magnetic lines of force, he carefully drew a distinction between the limited powers of mathematical physics as a mode of representing the forces of nature, and his own search for "the one true physical signification" of the phenomena: Indeed, what we really want is not a variety of different methods of representing the forces, but the one true physical signification of that which is rendered apparent to us by the phaenomena, and the laws governing them ... supposing that ... mathematical considerations cannot at present decide which of the views of magnetism is either above or inferior to its eo-rivals; it surely becomes necessary that physical reasoning should be brought to bear upon the subject as largely as possible. For if there be such physical lines of magnetic force as correspond (in having a real existence) to the rays of light, it does not seem so very impossible for experiment to touch them; and it must be very important to obtain an answer to the inquiry respecting their existence, especially as the answer is likely enough to be in the affirmative. (XR iiij531) An hypothesis or a theory is nothing more than an unresolved suspicion; a part, as Tyndall suggested, of the scaffolding, not of the edifice of science itself, which moves on to deal with existences. He then demands of himself, what it is which has been revealed by the new phenomena. It is a condition of tension, and therefore of force, because it relaxes as soon as the magnetic induction is removed, but is it the same as the magnetic force, or different? He tests, by determining whether the diamagoetic body responds to a magnet; not observing any motion, he concludes that: ... [T]he molecular condition of these bodies, when in the state described, must be specifically distinct from that of magnetized iron, or other such matter, and must be a new magnetic condition; ... the force which the matter in this state possesses and its mode of action, must be to us a new magnetic force or mode of action of matter. (XR iii/21) In other words, having made a force manifest, Faraday proceeds to identify it, by asking whether it is the same as, or specifically different from, previously known forces. The same line of inquiry, of course, in time revealed that indeed the diamagnetic material does move under the action of a magnet, but moves in a way specifically distinct from the motion of a magnetic material. The existence of the diamagnetic force, first revealed only optically, is now revealed by a second token, a specific type of motion. This motion is summarized in a law: All the phaenomena resolve themselves into this, that a portion of such matter, when under magnetic action, tends to move from stronger to weaker places or points afforce. (XR iii/69) There follows a brilliant experimental inquiry as to the universality of the new effect, concluding with the generalization: All matter appears to be subject to the magnetic force as universally as it is to the gravitating, the electric and the chemical or cohesive forces; for that which is not affected in the manner of ordinary magnetic action, is affected in the manner I have now described ... (X.k. iii/70) To reveal, to identify, and to generalize-the greatest part of the stream of Faraday's working questions serves these three ends. He frequently reasons by analogy, but for Faraday an analogy functions most often as a tentative identity, drawing him on (as in the case of the diamagnetic and magneto-optic forces) to decide whether the two analogous powers are finally the same or different. Admittedly, Faraday is never content to rest with an unexplained phenomenon, and he moves on from a law 11 �The College such as that of diamagnetic action above, to ask why the action occurs. Again, this might seem to be the step into theory, which I have denied Faraday takes. Indeed, he begins a paragraph shortly after with the words, "Theoretically, an explanation of the diamagnetic bodies . . . might be offered . . .," and proposes an account of diamagnetism in terms of induced polarity, a theory which was as we shall see beautifully successful in the hands of Weber, though Faraday himself soon disowned it. But a theory for Faraday is merely a makeshift explanation, a temporary and unsatisfactory stage of science, which is dispelled as the science progresses. The explanation of diamagnetism which proved more fruitful in Faraday's hands, and which accounted as well for magnetism and magne- crystallic action (the pointing of crystals in the magnetic field), is a good case in point. This is the theory of the conduction of lines of force: I cannot resist throwing forth another view of these phaenomena which may possibly be the true one. The lines of magnetic force may perhaps be assumed as in some degree resembling the rays of light, heat, & c.; and may find difficulty in passing through bodies, and so be affected by them, as light is affected ... the position which the crystal takes ... may be the position of no, or of least resistance; and therefore the position of rest and stable equilibrium. (XR iii/12223) I submit that the decisive words in this paragraph, for Faraday, are these: "Which may possibly be the true one." Even if this explanation accounted for all the known phenomena, I do not believe Faraday would have rested for a moment until he had found out the lines of force, which here take on a new importance, and given tangible and visible evidence of their presumed passage through bodies. Only thus would the "truth" of the view be exhibited to his satisfaction. His renewed efforts to reveal the "physical lines" of force are well known. 111ey culminate in papers of 1852 and 1855 (XR iii/437, 528). Here the concern is openly for the real ("physical") existence of the lines, and these papers are therefore "speculative" in a way in which the disciplined researches were not; but I think it is apparent that the whole thrust of the Experimental Researches 12 has been toward this end: to discover the powers of nature, to find out their true characters, and, finally, to produce the guarantees of their ''physical" existence. In an apology for speculation, which prefaces the 1852 paper but which really speaks for the role speculation has played throughout the Researches, Faraday says: It is not to be supposed for a moment that speculations of this kind are useless, or necessarily hurtful, in natural philosophy. They should ever be held as doubtful, and liable to error and to change; but they are wonderful aids in the hands of the experimentalist and mathematician. For not only are they useful in rendering the vague idea more clear for the time, giving it something like a definite shape, that it may be submitted to experiment and calculation; but they lead on, by deduction and correction, to the discovery of new phenomena, and so cause an increase and advance of rea] physical truth, which, unlike the hypothesis that led to it, becomes fundamental knowledge not subject to change. (XR iii/408; italics mine) Speculation is a thread which "leads on" toward the goal of science; the path is through "discovery of new phenomena," and the terminus is not a completed theory, but "real physical truth." What then is "fundamental knowledge not subject to change"? As immune to change, it must be manifest in the phenomena; as fundamental, it must consist in those select phenomena which directly reveal the primary, universal powers. Such would be phenomena which made manifest the "physical lines" of magnetic force. In his late, unpublished researches on "Time in Magnetism" Faraday was hard at the effort to capture such primary evidence. 11 In a recent biography of Faraday, L. Pearce Williams makes a striking observation about the law known as "Faraday's," relating the current induced in a circuit to the change of flux through it. Faraday certainly states the law: They also prove, generally, that the quantity of electricity thrown into a current is directly as the amount of curves intersected. (XR iii/346) 11 Faiaday's Diary, cd. Thomas Martin (7 vols.; London: G. Bell & Sons, 1932-1936), 6, pp. 434-444; 7, pp. 255-333. See T. K. Simpson, Isis, 57 (1966), pp. 423-425. �July 1970 Williams points out, however, that in its context in a search for sure evidence of the lines of force, this law "was not directed at electricity at all": Faraday was trying to prove that there was a certain specific amount of 'power' associated with every magnet; the induced currents merely detected this power.12 Williams adds that Faraday was interested in the induced electricity in Series I, though in the passages cited there Faraday was not stating the quantitative "law." I think this distinction is valid, and significant for an understanding of Faraday's purposes. Whereas the world has taken from Faraday a quantitative law relating motion in a magnetic field to induced current, Faraday himself had his eye on the problem of detecting the "sphondyloid of power" about a magnet; he was seeking out an entity in nature, and using the moving wire with its law of action merely as a highly prized instrument in the search. This is the physics of the explorer, the discoverer. Throughout the Researches Faraday sought what he called "contiguity" in nature; understandably, he seeks the same contiguity in the account of nature. A work of science should record a completed exploration, a detailed mapping, without gaps, of contiguous substances and powers. Maxwell, I believe, sees this about Faraday, so that it is not merely Faraday's clarity of view and inventiveness which attract Maxwell, but an image of the form physics might take, a physics of contiguity. In the transformation which Maxwell made of Faraday's thought, I believe his obj·ective was not only to find a mathematical expression appropriate to Faraday's electromagnetic concepts, but to bring into analytic form Faraday's insight about the nature of physics itself as a connected system. This calls for a new kind of mathematical physics, field physics. I mentioned earlier that two concepts are particularly important in Faraday's thinking about electromagnetism, namely the "lines of force" and the "electrotonic state." Thus far, the discussion of Faraday's inquiry into diamagnetism has emphasized only the former, but curiously it was the "electrotonic state" which seemed to Faraday himself the more fundamental idea, and it is this latter which 12 L. Pearce Williams, Michael Faraday (New York: Basic Books, 1965), p. 463, n. 51. Maxwell takes as the key in his translation of Faraday. For anyone who holds as I do that Faraday did not work with theories, the electrotonic state presents a special problem, since it is a concept which he never abandoned, and yet was never able to support empirically. He held it with tenacity, as we shall see, even though it remained a pure speculation. Without attempting to trace the history of this elusive notion through the Experimental Researches, I should like to try to indicate its role in Faraday's thought. In Series I, it appears in effect as the vehicle for Faraday's perplexity at the unexpected finding that an electric current is induced only by variation of the current in a primary circuit, or by motion of a permanent magnet. Like Fresnel, Faraday had expected a magnet to produce a current in a conductor at rest, and even after he had discovered the pulse of current on make or break of the primary circuit, he continued to look for the anticipated effect during steady flow of the primary current. Taking the inductive pulse as evidence of a change of this supposed state, he names it "after advising with· several learned friends" the electro-tonic state signifying that it is a tension in the direction of current flow in the conductor, and Series I is conceived more as the announcement of the discovery of a new state of matter, than as the discovery of the phenomenon of induced currents: Whilst the wire is subject to either volta-electric or magneto-electric induction, it appears to be in a peculiar state.... This electrical condition of matter has not hitherto been recognized, but it probably exerts a very important influence in many if not most of the phenomena produced by currents of electricity. (XR ij16) He has to confess, however, that he had found no evidence for the existence of the newly named and announced state whatever: This peculiar condition shows no known electrical effects whilst it continues; nor have I yet been able to discover any peculiar powers exerted, or properties possessed, by matter whilst retained in this state. (XR i/16-17) The Experimental Researches thus open with a somewhat embarrassing blunder-for he never was able to find any 13 �The College evidence of the State" whatever, and in Series 2 he for~ 11 mally withdrew the claim that it exists, though at the same time he reasserted his own conviction that it must: Thus the reasons ... have disappeared; and though it still seems to me unlikely that a wire at rest in the neighborhood of another carrying a powerful electric current is entirely indifferent to it, yet I am not aware of any distinct facts which authorize the conclusion that it is in a particular state. (XR ij69) Before making this reluctant retraction, he had made great efforts to exhibit the existence of some such static state in conductors in a magnetic field: that is, the efforts to produce an effect in a conductor due to the mere presence of a strong magnetic field did not stop with the discovery of electromagnetic induction, but were if anything accelerated by it. The electrotonic state was the surrogate for the effect which had for years been expected, and which he still felt must exist. The experiments which he performed then, on copper bars and leaves in a magnetic field, were the equivalent of a search for diamagnetism or diamagnetic polarity, and the actual discovery of diamagnetism seven years later, which we have discussed above, was the outcome of essentially the same search for a state of tension due to a steady magnetic field. In effect, the persistent search for the electrotonic state yielded the diamagnetic state. Faraday himself speaks eloquently of his unremitting dedication to the search for this missing "state"; three years after the retraction, he writes: Notwithstanding that the effects appear only at the making and breaking of contact, (the current remaining unaffected, seemingly, in the interval) I cannot resist the impression that there is some connected and correspondent effect produced by this lateral action of the elements of the electric stream [that is, the magnetic action of the current] during the time of its continuance ... there appears to be a link in the chain of effects, a wheel in the physical mechanism of the action, as yet unrecognized. If we endeavor to consider electricity and magnetism as the results of two forces of a physical agent, or a peculiar condition of matter, exerted in determinate directions perpen- dicular to each other ... (XR ij342) 14 He is seeking in the electrotonic state a "physical agent" of which electricity and magnetism are merely two manifestations. In 1852, some thirty years after Series I, he reasserts his faith, now linking the search with that for the physical lines of magnetic force: Again and again the idea of an electro-tonic state ... has been forced on my mind; such a state would coincide and become identified with that which would then constitute the physical lines of magnetic force. Another consideration tends in the same direction. I formerly remarked that the magnetic equivalent to static electricity was not known ... (XR iii/420-421) He then sketches what amounts to a completed scheme of nature, in which he takes the magnetic line as dynamic by analogy to electric currents, and then inserts the electrotonic state as a static state of magnetism, a magnetic tension analogous to the electrostatic tension which he has asserted precedes all conduction. The conviction expressed in Series I is reiterated in the last pages of the Experimental Researches; speaking of the wire which experiences a current when it is moved in a magnetic field, he demands: Now, how is it possible to conceive that the copper or mercury could have this power in the moving state, if it had no relation at all to the magnetic force in the fixed state? ... The mere addition of motion could do nothing, unless there were a prior static dependence of the magnet and the metal upon each other ... (XR iiij55l) Even the complex, never-completed experiment on 11Time in Magnetism" with which the Diary closes is a search, strictly speaking, for the electrotonic state; he writes to Maxwell in 1857: I hope this summer to make some experiments on the time of the magnetic action, or rather on the time required for the assumption of the electrotonic state . ...13 It would hardly be going too far to say that the Experimental Researches begin, and the Diary ends, with abortive efforts to find the one thing Faraday most wanted to 13 Lewis Campbell and William Garnett, Tl1e Life of James Clerk Maxwell (2nd ed.; London' 1894), p. 200. �July 1970 discover, yet for which he was never able to adduce a single definite fact. The momentum of this search carries over, however7 into Maxwell's reformulation of Faraday's views, where, as we shall see, the electrotonic state holds the central place. We see here, as others have emphasized, that the "experimental" researches are shaped and motivated by great speculative forces. Does this mean that science is, for Faraday, ultimately in fact a theoretical enterprise? I think it is only so to the extent that there is a gap which has not yet been filled, as it should be, by something other than such speculative concepts. His own terms in a quotation above are revealing: there is "a link in the chain of effects, a wheel in the physical mechanism of the action, as yet unrecognized." As the gap is filled, the need for theory will disappear. As science takes its completed form, hypothesis and speculation, which is the only sense of "theory" for Faraday, drop out, and a completed "physical mechanism" with no gears missing takes their place. True science, for Faraday, is the machine revealed. It is useful, finally, to note what Faraday does not ask himself. He does not ask questions about functional relationships: he does not ask, for example, the amount of the repelling force on a diamagnetic body, or the dependence of this on the strength of the field in which it is placed. He does not work with ratios and proportions. Not only does he almost never write an equation: he never asks the kind of question which has an equation as the natural form of its answer. Faraday's discomfort with the notion of a functional relation in mathematics is revealed poignantly by a remark he made very late in his career, at a time when he had finally been brought into confrontation with the dreaded inverse-square law of gravity. He rebels at the formulation "with a strength VARYING INVERSELY ..." The capital letters are his, expressing his outrage at what he considers a blatant violation of the principle of conservation of the force: how can it then "vary"? 14 He 14 Faraday, "On the Conservation of Force," Experimental Researches in Chemistry and Physics (London: 1859), pp. 443 ff., where the remark quoted is found on p. 463. The essay is of special interest to the present study, as Maxwell discusses it at length in a letter to Faraday (Campbell, Life of Maxwell, pp. 202 fl). understands, indeed, the algebraic relation as describing the effect, but the equation which for Newton and many generations of scientists after him had fully characterized the force, seems to Faraday utterly unjust to it. "Why, then, talk about the inverse square of the distance?" he says, commenting on the dismissal of his theory by the astronomer-royal, Sir George Airy; "I had to warn my audience against the sound of this law and its supposed opposition on my Friday evening..."?15 Reference was made above to Faraday's correspondence with Ampere. The following passage from a letter to Ampere, written early in Faraday's career, reveals the extent to which he was aware of the divergence of his concept of science from that of the mathematicians: I am unfortunate in a want of mathematical knowledge and the power of entering with facility into abstract reasoning; I am obliged to feel my way by facts closely placed together ... On reading your papers and letters, I have no difficulty in following the reasoning, but still at last I seem to want something more on which to steady the conclusions. I fancy the habit I got into of attending too closely to experiment has somewhat fettered my power of reasoning and chains me down and I cannot help now and then, comparing myself to a timid navigator who, though he might boldly and safely steer across a bay or an ocean by the aid of a compass which in its action and principles is infallible, is afraid to leave sight of the shore because he understands not the power of the instrument that is to guide him. 16 Could there be a more revealing contrast between Faraday's steady effort to satisfy his mind with a dense series of "facts closely placed together," and the elegant demonstrations of the mathematical physicist, embodied in the electrodynamics of Ampere? The latter had announced 'his program at the beginning of his Theorie Mathematique: Observer d'abord les faits, en varier les circonstances autant qu'il est possible, accompagner ce premier 15 16 Jones, Life of Faraday, 2, p. 354. de Launay, Correspondance, 3, p. 929. 15 �The College travail de mesures pnecises pour en deduire des lois generales, uniquement fondfes sur 1' experience, et deduire de ces lois, independamment de toute hypothese sur Ia nature des forces qui produisent les phenomenes, Ja valeur mathematique de ces forces, c' est-a-dire Ja formu}e qui Jes represente, teiJe est Ia marche qu'a suivie Newton ... c'est elle qui m'a serve de guide dans toutes mes recherches ....17 One should not, I think, be put off by the modesty which Faraday assumes, however sincerely, in this letter. It is clear that he reaiJy makes no apology for his physics. It is a science, not of mathematics, but of facts. It does not Jack mathematics, for it does not need mathematics. As the letter reveals, Faraday sees mathematics as useful (for others) as a short-cut, in leaping over gaps. His own idea, however, is of a science without such gaps, a science essentiaiJy non-quantitative, not needing either mathematical equations or chains of argument, but only inteiJigent experiment and clarity of view. Faraday certainly reasons incessantly. But for him the motions of the mind are constantly checked by reference to fact, so that the result is a dense structure, a closelyspaced series, directed throughout by experiment: Let the imagination go, guiding it by judgment and principle, but holding it in and directing it by experiment.ls Throughout the Experimental Researches, it is true, speculation and imagination run ahead of experiment, but seldom by more than a paragraph; this is not theory-building in the mathematician's sense, but envisioning new, pos~ sible things, and they are no sooner envisioned, than they are sought. This is of course a naive view, profoundly naive. Faraday built the world of Experimental Researches according to this naivete, and if we are to view it by any other criteria, or use his work for other purposes, we must first to a certain extent destroy it, and then rebuild. It is, perhaps, the literary triumph of MaxweiJ's Treatise that it effects this translation of Faraday's thought into mathematical physics with such gentleness and understanding, preserving so much of Faraday's concept of nature and of science. 16 17Andrt!-Marie Ampere, ThCorie mathCmatique des phenomenes electro-dynamiques, uniquement dCduite de l'expCrience {1827) (reprinted Parie: Librairie Scientifique Albert Blanchard, 1958), p. 2 (italics mine) . 18 Faraday, Diary, 7, p, 337. The remark in its context in the Diary pages is not a reflection, but a Dionysian outcry in the midst of the chase. It is surrounded by a cascade of ideas, as much speculative as experimental, about a wished relation of gravity and electricity. Thomas K. Simpson attended Rennselaer and Virginia Polytechnic Institutes where he studied physics and electrical engineering. After military service he resumed his education at St. John's College, graduating in 1950. He received an M.A. in Teaching degree from Wesleyan University in 1955, and a Ph.D. degree in the History of Science from The Johns Hopkins University in 1968. He has been a Danforth and a National Science Foundation Fellow. He was one of the founders and is currently President of the Key School, an experimental school in Annapolis. He has been teaching at the College in Annapolis since 19 55 and has had an important part in the development of the College's laboratory science program. Both by his teaching and by his example Simpson has shown how science can and should be understood as a liberal art, as one among the humanistic disciplines. �Prayers Given at St. Johns College, Annapolis By MICHAEL S. LITTLETON Convocation, September 1968 Baccalaureate Service, June 1970 Eternal God, the source and fountain of truth, To whom men turn when weary with illusion, In humble recognition of the precious gifts of knowledge And insight which thou dost bestow upon all who diligently seek them: 0 Lord, our Lord, how excellent thy name is in all the earth; Great and marvelous are thy works, Just and true are thy ways, thou King of kings, TI1e Gentiles come to thy light, And thou dost lighten thy people Israel. We ask thy blessing upon this institution of learning, its faculty, students and administration. That we may be delivered from fanatical devotion to halftruths, From that half-hearted drudgery which takes no delight in the given, and from sloth in all its forms. Keep alive in us that freshness which lies deep down in things, yet ever close at hand, And with it the patience to forge for ourselves tools of understanding, sturdy and precise, Which shall enable us to continue on the path of knowledge in pursuit of the common good. We pray in the name of the Lord To whom belongs the earth and the fullness thereof. Amen. Convocation, September 1969 Eternal God, whose glory is above the heavens But is mirrored in the tiniest fragment of thy creation, We thank thee that in the fullness of time Lighten our dark world, 0 God, and lead us in the paths of peace. Direct our nation that she may walk upright in the hour of responsibility. Bless this college, now and in the years to come, TI1at it may perform its task with integrity and gladness. Bless these students about to graduate That they may be encouraged by the memory of these years spent together. Create in us all clean hearts 0 God, that we may see thee aright. Renew a right spirit within us, that amidst a babel of warring tongues We may discern thy true word. Restore unto us the joy of thy salvation, And uphold us with thy free spirit, Lest having begun a good work, we grow weary in well doing And miss thy kingdom's goal. Amen. Thou dost create man in thine own image and IikeneSS 7 And dost call him from childish pursuits on to the full stature of manhood: Michael S. Littleton has been a Tutor at St. John's College since 1960. The recipient of the B.D. and S.D.M. degrees, he is a Minister of Music at the United Church of Christ in Annapolis. To be watchful, wakefull, compassionate and free; Not conformed to the present schema of things, But renewed in mind and spirit, Able to give an account of the hope that is in him. Do thou bless this college And all who teach and learn, That we may find courage to live with our own complexities, And grace to upbuild one another in truth. Amen. 17 �NEWS ON THE CAMPUSES St. John's College in Santa Fe conducted its third commencement ceremony on Sunday, May 31st, on the campus patio, holding the program outdoors for the first time. The Reverend Robert Boshen of the First Presbyterian Church in Santa Fe, gave the Invocation and Benediction. The graduates, faculty, and audience sat around the lovely pool and waterfall which were given to the College by actress Greer Garson in memory of bier, 0.; Steven Alan Jackson, Santa Fe, N.M.; Christine Lincoln, Cambridge, Mass.; Kyle Van McCard, Corning, Ia.; Jane Moore, Liberal Kan.; John Edward Munoz, Santa Fe, N.M.; Toni Karen Thomas Nelson, Los Alarnos, N.M.; Sigrid Catherine Nielsen, San Bruno, Calif.; Warren Frederick Schmalenberger, Albuquerque, N.M.; David Michael Sills, Chicago, Ill.; Kathleen Marie Skelton, Geneseo, Ill.; and Kathryn Joan Teipel, Tulsa, Okla. Mr. Robert A. Neidorf, who has taught at St. John's in Annapolis and Santa Fe for a total of five years, was selected by the senior class to present her mother. A warm southwestern sun the commencement address. He said in "The literature of the new generation contains just criticisms of the shone on the gathering while a spring breeze tugged playfully at the academic gowns and tassels of students and tutors. President Richard D. Weigle announced the awarding of 27 degrees. Graduating Cum Laude were James D. Danneskiold, Whittier, Calif.; Michael J. Landry, Franklin, La.; Christopher B. Nelson, White Plains, N.Y.; Yehudith N. Schneider, Mamaroneck, N.Y.; and James R. Walker, Fort Stockton, Tex. In addition 22 seniors were graduated Rite: Andrea Lynn Asti, Severna Park, Md.; Benjamin Barney, Lukachukai, Ariz.; Henry Hunsden Carey, New York, N.Y.; Ted Eugene Crook, Rifle, Colo.; Michael Neil Dayton, Santa Fe, N.M.; William Henry Doleman, Honolulu, Hi.; Toni Katz Drew, Santa Fe, N.M.; Hugo Bengt Donaldsson Hamilton, Santa Fe, N.M.; Sarah Jane Curtis Henderson, New York, N.Y.; Samuel Merritt Hitt, III, Mountain Lakes, N.J.; Susheila Louise Horwitz, Gam- his speech that America is in danger because many of its leaders and young usually extended with sweeping con- SANTA FE HoLDS ITS COMMENCEMENT OUTSIDE FOR FIRST TIME 18 people lack a "sense of history." Mr. Ncidorf said history "is a human process in which three vital things are created: the language of a people, an actualization of freedom for those people, and an idea of themselves, an idea of what they are and ought to be, an idea that may be expressed in their literature, their rituals, or their political in~ stitutions." A failure to understand American history in these terms-- is evident in recent actions by President Nixon and Vice-President Agnew and in the practices of some of the younger generation. older generation, but the criticisms are Santa Fe's third commencement, held outside this year, was situated around the Garson memorial pool. �July 1970 tempt to anyone who does not share the rituals and slogans of the young ...." He said the President had violated the tradition of separation of powers among the branches of government in ordering troops into Cambodia, and the Vice-President had disregarded the American concept of "due process of law" in his "campaign of intemperate and inflammatory vilification against the collegiate youth." The Class of 1970 graduated 72 seniors on both campuses. ANNAPOLIS GRADUATION EXERCISES The Class of 1970 in Annapolis graduated 46 seniors on Sunday, June 7th, on the front campus under the 700year-old Liberty Tree. The Reverend G. Holmes Mendelman, St. Paul's Lutheran Church, Annapolis, delivered the Invocation. The Reverend J. Winfree Smith, tutor at the College since 1941, gave the graduation address (see elsewhere in the magazine). Graduating Magna Cum Laude were Marielle Mikah Hammett, Pottstown, Pa.; Deborah Warren Kalmar. Annapolis, Md.; Edward Michael Macierowski, Springfield, Mass.; Joanne Linda Murray, Arlington, Va.; and Diana Browning Runyon, Annapolis, Md. Cum Laude graduates included Ronald Herbert Fielding, Cohasset, Mass.; Stephen Joel Forman, Houston, Tex.; Steven T. Harvey, Harrison, N.Y.; Maureen Linda Hollander, Hamden, Conn.; Joan Leslie Kramer, South Orange, N.J.; John Patrick MacDonald, Detroit, Mich.; Madelyn Jane Siegel, Baltimore, Md.; Masha Zager Sinnreich, Annapolis, Md.; and Susan Smith Wigutoff, Orlando, Fla. Those receiving degrees Rite were Philip Joseph Avila, Jr., Yeadon, Pa.; Samuel Stephen Burnett, North East, Md.; Catherine Ann Caffrey, Gmnd Island, Neb.; Patricia Ann Carey, La Vale, Md.; Thomas Anthony Chambliss, Chattanooga, Tenn.; David Domenic Cicia, Northampton, Mass.; Henry Clay Constantine, III, Baltimore, Md.; John Richard Dean, Boston, Mass.; Stephanie Ann Forrest, Madison, N.J.; Jeffrey David Friedman, Cleveland, 0.; Steve Alex Hancoff, Annapolis, Md.; Maya Hasegawa, Richmond, Va.; Roy Alan Hepner, Huntington, W. Va.; David Harding Humphreys, New York, N.Y.; Juan Blaise Ianni, Arcola, Va.; Dikran Kizilyan, Istanbul, Turkey; Arthur Harold Luse, III, Mahopac, N.Y.; Mary Elizabeth Perry, Glastonbury, Conn.; Thomas Anthony Pink, Chicago, Ill.; Thomas Rie, West Chester, Pa.; Susan Gail Rumore, Glendale, N.Y.; Cara Gendel Ryan, New York, N.Y.; Anne Robin Schmidt, Baltimore, Md.; Worku Sharew, Lock Haven, Pa.; Mark Leonard Silverman, South Dartmouth, Mass.; John David Smith, Humacao, Puerto Rico; Richard Edward Sohmer, Annapolis, Md.; Melanie Hannah Sollog, Franklin Square, N.Y.; Jean Lenore Stephens, Chassell, Mich.; Anthony Vitto, Jr., Rockville, Md.; Charles Robert Williams, Silver Spring, Md.; and Nancy Lillian Williams, South Windsor, Conn. Included in the !78th commencement exercises was Paul A. Lowdenslager, Annapolis, Md., as of the Class of 1955. The Benediction by Reverend Mendelman concluded the ceremonies. President and Mrs. Weigle were hosts at a buff·et supper for the graduates, faculty, and guests, at their home in Wardour. POLITICS AND THE COLLEGE At St. John's this May, as at most campuses throughout the country, the United States-South Vietnamese operations in Cambodia produced significant reactions. With turbulence and disruption overcoming most of what are called the major centers of higher learning in the nation, the St. John's community conducted itself with dignity mid sobriety in action, and with honesty and intelligence in inquiry. On May 8th and 9th a group of students and Tutors participated in a 24hour silent vigil processing about Church Circle in Annapolis in a demonstration of concern for what liad taken place at Kent State University. Some Tutors and students also engaged in activities to inform Annapolitans about the Church-Cooper and Hatfield-McGovern amendments. On May 12th a letter drafted by President Weigle and signed by some 350 members of the College com' munity from both campuses was pre- Tutor Benjamin C. Milner, Jr., led the Annapolis graduation procession. (Photo by John S. O'Brien/Aune Arundel Times) I "' 19 �The College sented by President Weigle and three students to Herbert Klein, President Nixon's Director of Communications, in Washington. The text of the letter foiiows: Dear Mr. President: We as individual students, faculty members, and administrative officers at St. John's College wish to convey to you our deep concern over the most re- cent expansion of the undeclared war in Southeast Asia and over the resulting dissension and division in our coun- try, especially within our colleges and universities. We are deeply troubled by the sacrifice of our young men and by the drain upon our country's resources. There is a basic question wlllch disturbs us as well. We doubt the constitutionality of this undeclared war which was embarked upon by a previous administration. We agree with Senator Charles Matlllas that the Senate seems to have been denied its historic constitutional role of declaring or not declaring war. We would lwpe for a speedy return to the proper delineation of tl1e functions and responsibilities of the three branches of the Government, the Executive, the Legislative, and the Judicial. In grave moments of history like these, nothing can be more important than a strict upholding of the Constitution. Many of us recognize that we do not have the necessary background or ·facts to assess the wisdom or necessity for the original American involvement in Indo-China or for the subsequent escalation of the fighting. We are not experts on power politics, Communist subversion, political vacuums, or military strategy. However, we share a repugnance for the conflict which has devastated this area of the world for nearly two decades. We earnestly want to believe you when you publicly commit yourself and our government to withdrawal of our armed forces as rapidly as is consistent with safety and prudence. St. John's College is devoted to the life of the mind, to reason, and to dialogue. We cannot subscribe to irrational and violent methods of dissent 20 Director of Communications Herbert Klein receives letter to President Nixon, and President Weigle and students Denise Fort, Mary Coughlin, and Lee Elkins. (Official Photograph, The Wl1ite House) since they imply an abandonment of tl1e fundamental principles for which a college or university should stand. We doubt whether confrontations can advance the cause of reason. Nor will the welfare of the country be advanced by a national strike of students or the closing of our colleges and universities. We shall continue with our regular academic program. We believe that our primary responsibility as students and teachers is to continue to study and learn. Only then will we be properly equipped to exercise our life-long responsibilities as participating members of tl1e political communities which depend upon enliglltened and rational leadership-our towns and cities, our states, and our nation. This decision should not be interpreted as implying any lack of concern on our part. Though the College considers it inappropriate to take an institutional stand on such a matter of national policy, we as individuals may choose to show our own personal positions in appropriate and dignified ways. We hope that our actions may com- mend themselves to students and faculties in other colleges and universities and may prove to have a sobering effect in a period of campus turmoil and national division. Therefore, as individual citizens and members of the St. John's community, we hereby record our dissent and in so doing insist that such dissent be registered in the proper way. The questions and arguments of President Weigle and three students, Mary Lee Coughlin, Lee Elkins, and Denise Fort, it was reported, were received attentively and argued with intelligently by Mr. Klein. A press release covering the letter suffered the usual abuse that carefuiiy qualified statements receive from a large part of the national press: in some places this letter of protest and dissent, which also spoke against "irrational and violent methods of dissent," was reported as a letter of support for Presidential policy. In a number of places, however, the reporting was accurate. A Coiiege meeting was held on the evening of May 12th. President Weigle �July 1970 reported on a second press release issued by the Publicity Office stressing the vigorous dissent of the signers of the letter to the President. Dean Goldwin spoke briefly about the grave dangers stemming from the growing politicization of the colleges and universities in the country. Taking stands on controversial political issues as institutions already has destroyed the conditions for open-minded, unprejudiced .examination of controversial issues on a significant number of important campuses in the United States. "What is at stake," he said, "is freedom of inquiry." The Dean proposed that the regular Friday evening lecture for May 22nd be abandoned in favor of a dual lecture presenting opposing positions on the Cambodian operations, and that Saturday, May 23rd, be set aside as an extra day of study comprised of two seminars on the subjects of Southeast Asia and Viet Nam policy, and the role of the dissenting citizen. Discussion took place to solicit suggestions from the students and to determine the general reaction to the proposal. Shows of hands were taken to determine what kind of participation might be expected. There was some debate as to whether attendance should be required or voluntary. It was argued that required attendance would be one step towards that politicization spoken of earlier, that students and faculty who did not want to participate, who did not want to take part in any activity that could be construed as joining in political dissent, should not be required to do so. On the other hand, it was argued that required attendance would endow the meetings with the the Washington Center of Foreign Policy Research, School of Advanced International Studies, The Johns Hopkins University, and a member of the Senior Staff of the National Security Council, presented the case for the administration. a Question: The Uses and Abuses of Civil Disobedience," by Harris L. Wofford, Jr.; and "The Case Against Civil Disobedience," by Herbert J. Storing. On the Annapolis campus about 80 per cent of the faculty and some 60 per cent of the students participated in the seminars. This extra day of study carried out at the most burdensome time of the regular work year was generally reported to have been highly successful. In Santa Fe, over 200 letters were written by students to their Congress- Professor Morton Halperin, author of China and the Bomb and Contemporary Military Strategy, Senior Fellow of the Brookings Institution, former Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense, who resigned as a consultant to the National Securitv Council when United States forces' entered Cambodia, presented a case against administration policy. The Question Period was packed, long, lively, intelligent, and informative, and marred by no disruptions. The readings for the seminar at 10:00 A.M. on Viet Nam and Southeast Asia were President Nixon's speech on Cambodia, an article by Henry Kissinger, an article by Senator Fulbright, and a ten-point proposal by the Vietcong. Readings for the seminar at 2:00 P.M. on the role of the dissenting citizen were taken from the recently published volume, On Civil Disobedience-American Essays Old and New (Rand McNally), edited by Robert A. Goldwin. The essays were "Letter from the Birmingham Jail," by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.; "Law as President Weigle has announced the appointments of Gerald F. Zollars as Director of Admissions and John- S. Steadman as Assistant Dean at Santa Fe. Mr. Zollars graduated from Annapolis in 1965 and received his graduate degree at the University of Hawaii's EastWest Center. He succeeds Douglas R. Price, who has accepted the position of Special Assistant to the President of the Univer:iity of Hawaii. Mr. Steadman, who has been a Tutor at St. John's in Annapolis and Gerald Zollars Plwto by J. R. Thompson John S. Steadman Photo by Robert Nugent _..., men, expressing opinions on the escala- tion of the Southeast Asian conflict. ADMISSIONS DIRECTOR AND ASSISTANT DEAN APPOINTED AT SANTA FE seriousness of our regular work. Some argued that they would approve and participate in the activities if voluntary, but not if required. A show of hands revealed that a large majority were in favor of the activities being voluntary. On Friday, May 22nd, Professor Robert E. Osgood, author of Ideals and Self-Interest in America's Foreign Relations and Limited War, Professor of International Relations and Director of 21 �The College Santa Fe since 1962, succeeds John T. Rule. Mr. Rule, who retired as Professor at Massachusetts Institute of Technology in 1966, has taught at St. John's for two years and served as acting Assistant Dean the past year. Mr. Zollars served as assistant admissions director during Mr. Price's three years as director. PRESIDENT WEIGLE LEADS STUDENTS IN "EARTH DAY" CLEANUP IN SANTA FE Students and faculty observed Earth Day on April 22nd at Santa Fe with talks by officials of private and public agencies concerned with pollution control, films on the environmental crisis, outdoor dinner of organic foods, and a seminar. The action phase of the College's participation in the national program began the previous Saturday when President Richard D. Weigle led a group of students in an all-day cleanup along several streets near the campus. A dump truck loaned by the City of Santa Fe was filled several times with bottles, cans, auto parts, discarded furniture, and other trash found scattered along these streets. The College received commendation from residents in the area and a special citation from the Santa Fe City Council. GRADUATE STUDENTS COMPLETE FouRTH YEAR IN SUMMER INSTITUTE The first students to complete all four sections of the summer Graduate Institute in Liberal Education will receive their M.A. degrees at Santa Fe August 14th. The Graduate Institute was started in 1967 with a course in Politics and Society. Two other subject areas-Literature, and Philosophy and Theology-were added in 1968. Mathematics and Natural Science were offered for the first time last summer, completing the four-part program. Twelve students received degrees last year as a result of having completed three summers at St. John's, plus nine hours of graduate credit transferred from another institution. 22 The institute's curriculum was de- signed primarily for the benefit of school teachers wishing to enrich their liberal arts training, but applications are invited from others interested in this type of advanced education. James P. Shannon, vice president of St. John's at Santa Fe, is the director of the institute this year. His predecessors in that position have included Elliott Zuckerman, tutor at Annapolis, and Robert Goldwin, now Dean of St. John's College. The Graduate Institute has received aid from the Carnegie Corporation and the National Endowment for the Humanities. As a result of such financial assistance, several stu- deQts have been able to enroll who are teachers in core ateas of Washington, D.C., and Baltimore and in small rural schools in New Mexico. ANNAPOLIS FACULTY NOTES Laurence and Gisela Berns became the parents of a daughter, Anna Elena, on Friday, May 29th, the first anniversity of Mrs. Berns's becoming a citizen of the United States. Eva Brann, Jacob Klein, and Thomas K. Simpson are three St. John's College tutors who were recently appointed to a new Curriculum Committee at the Key School in Annapolis to expedite work on an extensive statement of the school's curriculum. Robert A. Goldwin edited On Civil Disobediei]ce, published by Rand McNally in December. The book was used for the special seminars at Annapolis. He was also the leader for the Public Affairs Conference on "Censorship and Freedom of Expression" at Kenyon College, May 7-lOth. The Dean was interviewed on WBAL-FM Radio, Saturday, May 16th, for a program entitled "Molly Martin Presents A Day In Annapolis," a thirteen-week series on Maryland's capital and its citizens. Mr. Goldwin will serve as moderator at the Aspen (Colorado) Institute of Humanistic Studies on August l6-29th. During the 1968-1970 academic years Jacob Klein gave the following lectures: "On The Soul in Plato's Republic," and "Introduction to Aris- tole," at the University of Chicago; "On The Nature of Nature," at The New School for Social Research and Claremont Men's College; "On Precision," at St. Mary's College of California, the University of Massachusetts, and Catholic University of America; and "On Liberal Education," at Cornell University. In addition he led a seminar, 11 0n Plato's Statesman," at Yale University, and a seminar, "On Liberal Education," at Cornell University in which two St. John's alumni, Linda Davenport and Bernard Davidoff, participated. Samuel S. Kutler will be on sabbatical leave in 1970-71, traveling and studying in England. Barbara H. Leonard will travel to Africa and India during her 1970-71 sabbatical leave. Benjamin C. Milner, Jr., served as chairman of the Anne Arundel County liberal New Democratic Coalition, wing of the Democratic Party, which stresses citizen participation in politics. His book, Calvin's Doctrine of the Church, was published by E. J. Brill this year. Richard Scofield was appointed Tutor Emeritus by the Board of Visitors and Governors during the June meeting in Annapolis. Mr. Scofield joined the St. John's faculty in 1927, teaching continuously at the College except for 1948-49 when he was Visiting Associate Professor of History and Humanities at the University of Chicago. He held an Addison E. Mullikin Tutorship commencing in 1959. In December Thomas K. Simpson was principal speaker at the History of Science Society annual meeting, Washington, D.C. The speech was on the "Metaphysical Foundations of Maxwell's Treatise On Electricity And Magnetism." · Robert L. Spaeth was appointed chairman of the newly-formed housing committee for the City of Annapolis. He called housing "the most serious social problem in Annapolis" and expressed confidence that the committee would improve relations between the city council and the city's housing authority. a- �July 1970 David H. Stephenson is the new conductor of the Annapolis Symphony Orchestra. Since joining the St. John's faculty in 1963, he has arranged several concerts, conducted the small and great choruses at the College, and directed a full performance of Bach's Cantata No. 101 at St. Anne's Episcopal Church. He has recently completed a book on the works of Beethoven which will be published shortly by Thomas Y. Crowell Company. The Danforth Foundation recently awarded a leave grant to President Richard D. Weigle. The grant provides an opportunity for the college administrator to enlarge his perspectives of current and future educational issues and to renew his inner resources for con~ tinucd leadership in higher education. The Weigles plan to begin their leave in May, 1971. After giving the commencement address at Bard College on Saturday, June 20th, Mr. Weigle received an honorary degree of Doctor of Humane Letters. Elliott Zuckerman is an Associate of Clare Hall, Cambridge University, for 1970-71, during his sabbatical leave from Annapolis. SANTA FE AWARDS SOUTHWEST SCHOLARS Ten outstanding high school students in the Southwest have been awarded scholarships worth $250 to $1,500 by St. John's for 1970-71. The winners by state include: Arizona, Jody Mary Bol, Scottsdale. Colorado, Carl A. Huffman, Wheat Ridge. New Mexico, Mike Lee Beall, Santa Fe; Kathleen Marie Buchen, Los Alamos; George S. Davidson, Carlsbad, and David B. Wallace, Las Cruces. Oklahoma, Jennifer Gail Jordan, Turpin. Texas, Sheila Cathryn Jackson, Beaumont; David B. Maclaine, Houston, and Phillip B. Weathers, Denton. The Southwest Scholars Program was started by friends of the College to encourage attendance at St. John's by young people from the five southwestern states. The grants are renewable annually upon successful completion of the previous term's work. §!tee/1 §a11son Comes !fJ v/nnafiolis Governor and Mrs. Mandel were hosts at a reception at the Government House Friday evening, in honor of Miss Garson and the Caritas Society, giving recognition to the Society and its community activities this past year. On Saturday, May 23rd, the Fogelsons enjoyed a cruise of the harbor and the Chesapeake Bay on the Governor's Yacht and a tour of the Annapolis campus. That evening Miss Garson received The Caritas Society of the Friends a standing ovation following the showof St. John's College in Annapolis ing of "Mrs. Miniver," and was sursponsored an evening with Miss Greer prised with a bouquet from the Caritas Garson on Saturday, May 23rd, with a Society. She was available for queschampagne buffet supper and a show- tions from the audience, and mingled ing of two of her films, "Mrs. Miniver" freely with delighted guests during the and "Madam·e Curie." "champagne reception. Miss Garson and her husband, Mr. Mrs. L. Corrin Strong, a member of E. E. Fogelson, a former member of the Board of Visitors and Governors, the Board of Visitors and Governors, gave a luncheon on Sundav in honor were met at Friendship Airport by of the Fogelsons. ' Mrs. Marvin Mandel, the First Lady Members of the Caritas Society who of the State of Maryland. Mrs. Richard were committee chairmen for the eveD. Weigle and Mrs. William Jabine, ning with Miss Garson were: Mrs. WilII, chairman of the Caritas function, liam Jabine, II, Mrs. Robert 0. Felter, also greeted the couple. Mrs. Theodore G. Osius, Mrs. Richard In addition to being interviewed at F. Blaul, Mrs. Bert Thoms, Mrs. Joan the airport by WMAR-TV, Baltimore, L. Baldwin, Mrs. William G. Gideon, Miss Garson participated in a taping Mrs. Remsen Johnson, Mrs. L. Corrin at W ANN-WXTC Radio in Annapo- Strong, Mrs. Karlton F. Morris, Mrs. lis and a press conference that after- Colby G. Rucker, and Mrs. William B. noon. Clatanoff. Student Daniel Sullivan assisted with the artwork on the proMiss Garson signs autographs during the champagne reception. gram. NEW MEXICO AUTHORS ADDRESS LUNCHEONS FOR BENEFIT OF ST. JoHN'S LIBRARY This year's spring series of the St. John's Book-and-Author Luncheons continued the success of the 1969 programs. A total of about 600 people attended the luncheons on April lOth and May 14th at Santa Fe's downtown hotel, LaFonda. The series is sponsored by the St. John's College Library Associates Committee, headed by Richard l\/Iartin Stern, who is a prize-winning author himself. Local book stores help sell tickets and the programs are well covered by press and television. Speakers so far this year have in23 �The College eluded Walter Kerr, former general manager of the New York Times International Edition; John Masters, Calcutta-born, author of 16 books including Blrowani Junction; Tom Mayer, whose first collection of short stories, Bubble Gum and Kipling, was published before he was 21 and whose next book will be about Vietnam, where he spent eight months as a free lance correspondent; Peggy Pond Church, whose The House at Otowi Bridge is in its third printing; Tony HiUerrnan, whose The Blessing Way has received favorable reviews and a film contract, and Alice Bullock, prolific writer of articles, author of Legends of the Santa Fe Country and member of the St. John's Library Associates. STUDENTS EXHIBIT ARTS AND CRAFTS An exhibition of art work and crafts made by students this past year was held in the St. John's Gallery at Santa Fe, May 22nd-30th. Awards were presented by the Student Activities Office for the best work in fine arts, pottery and photography. Prize-winners included: Fine Arts-Gretchen Vadnais '72, Portland, Ore., and John Kvapil '72, Phoenix, Ariz. Pottery Making-Christopher W. Hill '72, Tucson, Ariz.; Karen A. Nelson '73, Danville, Calif.; James M. Nelson, Tucson, Ariz. Photography-A. Mackenzie Waggaman '73, Reno, Nev.; J. R. Thompson '73, Rocky Ford, Colo.; Rachel L. Trneblood '72, Blue Bell, Pa. Thompson also was cited for his editing of the student publication "Seven," printed this year in newspaper tabloid form, and for his direction of the musical HFantasticks." STUDENTS PRESENT "THE FANTASTICKS" A student version of the longest-running off-Broadway play, "The Fantasticks," was presented in Santa Fe May 19th-20th. The first night's performance was for students and faculty and the second for the public. Directed by J. R. Thompson '73, Rocky Ford, 24 Colo., the boy-meets-girl musical included Kaley Moffatt '73 of Fort Worth, Texas, as the girl and Greg Ford '72, East Palo Alto, Calif., as the boy. Others in the cast were Jack Holman, Lemoore, Calif.; Jon Stroud, Shreveport, La.; Tom Robinson, Newport, R.I.; Dana Netherton, Florissant, Mo.; Eric Springsted, St. Paul, Minn.; MelJanie Morgan, San Antonio, Texas. All were freshmen except sophomore Netherton. Pianists were Jacob Stoller '73, Mill Valley, Calif., and Ray Davis, tutor. ANNAPOLIS STUDENTS DANCE IN CONCERT The Annapolis Association for Contemporary Dance presented a studio concert of its dance theatre and choreographer's workshop on Sunday, May 17th, at the College in Annapolis. 'I11e Association featured two works by Miss Georgia Cushman, "On Conic Sections," created in 1961, and "Pallavi," a premiere. Douglas Bennett, '71, composed the music which was performed by Kimi Hasegawa, '73, Leslie Starr, '72, and William Martin, '71. The senior dance theatre included faculty wife Mrs. Marilyn Williamson, and students Michelle Budny, '70, Marcia Greenbaum, '73, Priscilla Lindsay, '73, and Christel Stevens, '72. Miss Elizabeth Kurs, daughter of Tutor and Mrs. Louis B. Kurs, was a member of the junior dance theatre. Santa Fe fencers Michael Landry, Carol Paterson, and Edith Callender placed at the Texas Collegiate Fencing Championships. COLLEGE RECEIVES GIFT OF PAINTING Award-winning artist Shirley U. Miller of New York has given her painting "Purple Lake" to St. John's College in Santa Fe. Miss Miller has had one-man exhibitions at Aspects Gallery and Contemporary Arts Gallery in New York. Her awards include the New Masters Fine Arts Award, 1966, at the New England Exhibition; M. Grumbacher Award, 1967, Painters and Sculptors Society; Audubon Artists Medal for Creative Oil, 1968; and the D. Wu Jeet-Key Memorial Award, 1969, National Association of Women Artists. She is a graduate of the Cooper Union School of Arts, and she attended Black Mountain College, N.C., and the Art Students League, New York (Merit Scholarship). STUDENTS EN JOY WIDE VARIETY OF ACTIVITIES Santa Fe students have enjoyed outdoor activities ranging from skiing to river rafting this past year under the guidance of the new Director of Student Activities, Istvan Fehervary. Members of the College's fencing team, the only one in New Mexico, competed in April in the Texas Collegiate Fencing Championships and returned with three torphies. Senior Carol Paterson of San Bruno, Calif., won second place in the women's division; senior Michael Landry of Franklin, La., was fifth in the men's division, and freshman Edith Callender of Littleton, Colo., came in sixth among the women. Students interested in river rafting made several week-end trips down sections of the Rio Grande on rubber rafts. The Santa Fe Ski Basin, only an hour's drive from the campus, offered lessons and equipment at reduced prices to students during the winter. Other activities included horseback riding, soccer, karate, basketball, modern dance, swimming, and softball. Work has begun on a temporary track. The Student Activity Office Award for best all-around athlete went to Robert J. Schlegel '72, Palo Alto, Calif. Rebecca Brinkley '72, Lovington, N.M., received the prize for best girl athlete. �ALUMNI ACTIVITIES PROFILE Michael H. Elias, born in Monticello, N.Y., graduated from St. John's in June, 1962. During the spring of his senior year he was co-editor, with Theodore Stinchecum '62, of the special College Bulletin entitled Mathematics. Mr. Elias taught a variety of subjects in the New York City public schools in his first year after college, and in the spring of 1963 he joined the Living Theater in the cast of "The Brig." He performed with "The Brig'' company in New Yark, and toured with it in Europe, for almost two years. Back in New York, he did a number of plays at the Judson Memorial Church, among them Stinchecum's production of "Antigone." He then worked in television, several films, and summer stock, before teaming up with Frank Shaw in a comedy act. The act was evidently quite successful, playing in night clubs, college con- Michael H. Elias '62 certs, and on the Ed Sullivan Show, in addition to a number of appearances on NBC's "Tonight Show." In 1968, Elias and Shaw, as the act was known, received an offer to go to Hollywood to write for television. They went, and in the past two years have BucHANAN BooK ALUMNI AND THE DISTRIBUTED COLLEGE POLITY The recent mailing of Embers of the World to certain alumni was made possible by the generosity of the publisher, The Center for the Study of Democratic Institutions, Santa Barbara. In view of the understandable limit the Center had to place on the mailing, the book was sent only to those classes of alumni who were at St. John's with Scott Buchanan and Stringfellow Barr, the classes of 1938 through 1950. The book, a series of interviews with Mr. Buchanan, edited by Harris Wofford, may be ordered through the College Bookstore by others who might be interested. pol-i-ty n 4a: the form or constitution of a politically organized unit. (Webster's Seventh New Collegiate Dictionary) For the first time since a formal Polity was adopted by the College in 1950, the Alumni are recognized officially as members of the College. A completely revised set of "by-laws" for the governance of St. John's was adopted by the Board of Visitors and Governors on June 6th. Article I thereof states in part that "The College shall be understood to consist of the following: (a) the Board of Visitors and Governors; (b) the Faculty; (c) the Students; (d) the Alumni; and (e) written for "What's It All About, World," "The Leslie Uggams Show," "The Pat Paulsen Show," "The Good Guys/' ''Love, American Style/' and "The Bill Cosby Show." The last of these received very favorable notice in the New York Times. Mr. Elias also has teamed up with another St. Johnnie, Robert W. Garland '62, to produce films, to race cars, and to work with a seminar group in the film colony. A project to produce "Fear and Tremblin' ," their own adaptation of the Kierkegaard classic, unfortunately collapsed. The Elias'Garland team fared better in last year's "Baja 500" auto race in a car of their own design, finishing 23rd in one of the most gruelling of all road races. Meanwhile, Mrs. Elias, the former Caroline Bielefelt '65, is putting the St. John's program to work at Disneyland. She is a consultant for a park with the proposed theme of Classicland. The Eliases make their home in Los Angeles. the Staff." The new Polity also defines Alumni: "All who have formally matriculated on either campus, who are not at pres- ent enrolled, and whose class has graduated, whether graduates or non-graduates, whether in graduate or postgraduate programs, shall be called Alumni of St. John's College." In addition to the quoted sections which concern alumni as individuals, the Polity recognizes the Alumni Association: ''The Alumni Association shall be the formal means by which alumni participate in the life of the College. Through the election of Alumni members to the Board of Visitors and Governors, alumni share in the direction of that life. In these and 25 �The College other ways, alumni shall be given the opportunity to serve the College." In other actions, the Polity now provides that the President of the Associati?n attend meetings of the Board of Visitors and Governors as a par~ ticipating, non-voting guest, and that election of alumni members to that Board take place in the spring. The result of this latter provision is that all members now begin and end their terms at the Annual Meeting, normally in May. WATCH THIS SPACE IN THE SEPTEMBER ISSUE WITH THE AREA GROUPS Regional alumni groups have been considerably more active these past six months than in the preceding six. On February 22nd, the Los Angeles area alumni met at the home of Dr. and Mrs. David Dobreer '44 to honor President and Mrs. Weigle. Further to the North, the San Francisco alumni, augmented by some parents, met at the Miyako Hotel at a reception for Mr. Weigle. Thomas M. Carnes '52 was the prime mover for the February 28th event. In Annapolis, informal monthly lunch meetings have resulted in the revival of an official chapter. Frank B. Marshall, Jr. '45 has been elected chairman. Luncheon meetings will continue next fall (the second Friday of each month), and the group will help the Fnends of St. John's in Annapolis with the second annual reception for incoming freshmen. May 26th saw the New York area alumni gather in the apartment-gallery of Eugene V. Thaw '47 to hear Tutor J. Winfree Smith report on the state of the College. Mr. Smith spoke briefly about the Polity revisions being pre- 26 sented to the Board of Visitors and Governors for approval. He then discussed the reaction at the College to the Cambodian offensive and the Kent State shootings (see related article in NEWS ON THE CAMPUSES). Finally, he mentioned several possible curriculum modifications which have been discussed by the Instruction Committee. Francis S. Mason, Jr. '43, acting chairman of the New York group for the past two years, was coordinator for the event. Two days after the New York gettogether, the Washington (D.C.) alumni met in Silver Spring, Md., for a dinner and talk by Tutor Ford K. Brown; 69 alumni and guests were present. Mrs. Cynthia (Siehler) White '66, Dr. Robert A. Bier '19, and William R. Tilles '59 coordinated this most successful regional alumni gathering. The group is now talking about a midsummer picnic on the Annapolis cam- pus. These accounts support the theory of Association President Darrell Henry that alumni are interested in some sort of local activity in their home regions. The prevailing sentiment has been to keep '~organization" to the minimum necessary for proper functioning, to avoid fixed activity schedules, and to keep all functions informal. The Alumni Association cnCQttrages regional groups to organize, no matter how loosely, and stands ready to assist in whatever way it can, particularly with mailings. Any group wishing to be recognized formally as a chapter of the Association should get in touch with the Director of Alumni Activities at the College in Annapolis. Starting at far left: At New York alumni meeting (from left) Hope Zoss '67 meets Steven Shore and Donald and Marilynnc (Wills) Schell, 1968 graduates from Santa Fe. Mary (Bittner) O'Connor '59 and escort talk with the Rev. J. Winfree Smith of the Annapolis faculty. Francis Mason '43, New York area chairman, gets acquainted with John Clapp '68 and Ronald Silver '63. �July 1970 A In Baltimore, (left to right) Theodore W. Hendricks '50, and Dorothea (Wend) and Jerome Gilden '54, chairman of the Baltimore telephone roundup, in action. First nighters hard at work in the Baltimore office of the C&P Telephone Co. will contribute. Many colleges now use the telephone exclusively for annual giving campaigns. There is little doubt that a telephone appeal yields a higher return than a letter, even a letter from a classmate. Whether or not St. John's is ready for an all-'phone campaign is now being discussed. Over-all cost would not be out of proportion to the increased revenue which could be expected. The real question is whether enough volunteers can be enlisted in the cities from which calls would be made, and that depends on local leadership. Telephone campaigns will be explored thoroughly over the next few months, so don't be surprised if you get a •'phone call next year instead of a series of letters. Edward C. Webby '63 and Richard F. Blaul '32 launch the telephone roundup in Annapolis. Alumni Office of the College, they are deposited in a special account maintained by the Treasurer of the Association. Disbursements of these funds are controlled by the directors of the Association. TI1e College finances the Alumni Office, some of the activities of which may be for the benefit of the Association, but the College contributes no funds to the operation of the conducted by the College through the Development Office, which includes the Alumni Office. (TI1e Director of Alumni Activities is employed by the College, although his office serves as the administrative office for the Association.) Although members of the Association each year volunteer to work in the Annual Giving Campaign, the Association and its activities. involved. To sum up: if you have paid your membership dues, you have not by that act contributed to the College. You must make a separate donation, payable to St. John's College, in order to be listed among the annual givers. Joshua T. Gillelan II '68's. TELEPHONE DOLLARS TI1e Alumni Annual Giving Campaign this year ended in a jingling of telephone bells. Since the Baltimore telephone "round up" was so successful last year, another and larger round up was held in that city this year. The result was three nights of calling all over Maryland, the District of Columbia, and the Virginia suburbs of the District. In addition, a team of alumni in Annapolis spent three nights making local calls in that area. Results are hard to evaluate at this time. As we go to press, gifts are still coming in. In Annapolis, about 140 calls were completed; 50% of those promised to send a gift, and received a follow-up card. Based on last year's experience, almost all of those alumni DUES AND GIFTS: A DISTINCTION Each year a misunderstanding seems to arise about Association dues and an- nual gifts to the College. These are not the same. The Alumni Association, a legal entity incorporated in the State of Maryland, derives its income principally through collection of dues (for which printed notices are sent out shortly after January lst each year, with a follow-up mailing in July). The dues help finance Homecoming activities and assist regional chapters, for example, by subsidizing their mailings. Although dues are mailed to the Annual gifts, usually sent in response to specific letter or telephone appeals, go directly to the College and help finance College activities like paying faculty salaries, for example. The Alumni Annual Giving Campaign is Association as an organization is not 27 �The College Clockwise: Seniors Thomas Chambliss (left foreground), Masha (Zager) Sinnreich, John Dean, Worku Sharew, Dikran Kizilyan, Jeffrey Friedman, Susan Rumore, Stephen Forman, Arthur Luse. Alumni Association President Darren Henry '61 and his wife Linda were among the alumni present. CLASS NOTES 1909 Cdonel Robert A. Jones and Mrs. Jones were on the Annapolis campus for the events of Commencement week-end. T11e Joneses make their home in Palo Alto, Cal. 1922 Dr. Rafael Rodriguez-Molina, writing as R de Villafuerte, is the author of The Americanization of Manuel de Rosas. Published by Vantage Press, Inc., the book is a fictionalized autobiography, tracing the life of a Puerto Rican medical scimtist from the Sp'anish-American War to the present. Dr. Rodriguez-Molina himself spent a year at St. John's, finished his college and professional education at the University of Puerto Rico, and has followed a life 28 ANNAPOLIS Dean Robert Goldwin '50 concentrates on steamed crab while listening to Stephen Burnett '70. SENIOR-ALUMNI CRAB FEAST MAY 29, 1970 of teaching and research. Although retired from active practice, he is still listed in the catalogue of the University of Puerto Rico School of Medicine with the rank of clinical professor of medicine. 1931 In January Richard C. Mottu returned to his job as manager-purchasing for Koppers Company, Pittsburgh, after six months of service with the National Alliance of Businessmen. After 19 years with Revere Brass and Copper, John S. Price retired on June 1st. At the time of his retirement, Mr. Price was plant engineer at Revere's Rome (N.Y.) division. Mr. and Mrs. Price will make their home at 2235 Alice Lane, Clearwater, Fla. 33516. Crab Feast co-chairman Henry Braun discusses dissection techniques with seniors- Stephanie Forrest and Anne Schmidt. Judge, Maryland Court of Appeals, was awarded the honorary degree of Doctor of Laws from St. Mary's College of Maryland. Daniel J. Ward was recently elected Northern Region Vice President of the Fuel Merchants Association of New Jersey. Mr. Ward is part-owner of Strand Engineering, Inc., of Paterson. 1937 Willard 0. Ash, chairman of the department of mathematics and statistics at the University of West Florida, in September will become dean of the college of arts, sciences and technology at the University of North Florida in Jacksonville. 1938 On May 3rd, J. 1933 Dudley Digges, Associate The new president of the Propellor Club of Baltimore is John L. Lambros, assistant to the �July 1970 general manager of Bethlehem Steel Corporation's Baltimore Repair Yards. The Club is comprised of persons in the shipping industry in the Baltimore area. J- S. Baker Middleton, who joined Keuffel & Esser Company, Morristown, N.J., last year as Director of Industrial Relations, has been Promoted to the position of Vice PresidentIndustrial Relations. From 1966 to 1969 Mr. Middleton was Director of Manpower for Scott Paper Company. 1939 Frederick R. Buck, president of the Title Guarantee Company of Baltimore, has been reelected to a second term as president of the Maryland State Title Insurance Association. 1943 On Saturday, March 7th, John L. Hedeman and Joanne Anderson were married in ceremonies at the Annapolis Yacht Club. Dr. Hedeman is in private medical practice in Annapolis, while Mrs. Hedeman teaches in the Anne Arundel County school system. 1944 In May, Paul Mellon was named recipient of the 1970 Thomas Jefferson Award of the National Society of Interior Designers. The award is given for an outstanding contribution to the preservation of American cultural heritage. Mr. Mellon was cited for his contributions to the National Gallery of Art, of which he is president and trustee. 1945 The July issue of Modern Photography mentions Gene Thornton as a possible candidate to take over the photography column of the Sunday New York Times. Mr. Thornton has written about the fine arts for many years. 1946 Clarence J. Kramer, former tutor and first dean of St. John's College, Santa Fe, and a cofounder of the Key School in Annapolis, has been reJected to the Board of Trustees of that School. 1950 W. Bernard Fleischmann, for the past three years chairman of comparative literature at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, has been named the first dean of Montclair (N.J.) State College's new School of Humanities. Mr. F1eischmann has been an Alumni member of the Board of Visitors and Governors of St. John's since 1967. Thomas K. Simpson, tutor on the Annapolis campus, in March was elected president of the Board of Trustees of the Key School. Mr. Simpson was one of the founders of the Annapolis school. 1951 Robert S. Hill has been promoted to the rank of professor, and has been named acting head of the new Department of Political Science, at Marietta (Ohio) Col1ege. Mr. Hill joined the Marietta faculty in 1969. 1952 Alvin A. Aronson, author of the off-Broadway plays "The Pocket Watch" and "Night Hawks," will return to the College in Annapolis next year as a member of the Junior Class and as playwright-in-residence. 1953 Philip H. Lyman, who started working for the Gotham Book Mart during his college summers, since 1959 has been in charge of the cinema section of the famous New York book store. 1956 Pasquale L. Polillo has been appointed News Director of television station KGO-TV in San Francisco, and now makes his home in San Rafael. 1958 John A. Bremer (M.A.) has been director of the unique Parkway Program of the School District of Philadelphia since the Program started in 1968. Drawing students from the eight Philadelphia school districts on a volunteer basis, the Program is designed to help the present-day urban student "live learningly with~ in his present life-space, and . . . to expand this life space." Jacques F. Cartier, founder, producer, and artistic director of the Hartford (Conn.) Stage Company, is co-writing an original comedy for Warner Bros. Entitled Spy Mother, the motion picture involves an international espionage agent, his do-good mother, and the Federal government. 1959 Charlotte F. King will assume the duties of Resident Head of Campbell Hall for the coming academic year, while Assistant Dean Barbara Leonard is on sabbatical leave. 1961 Stephen Morrow, formerly with the UPI bureau in Baltimore, is now at the Cleveland office of the same news service. John R. Pekkanen, Midwest Bureau Chief for Life Magazine, is one of 13 journalists selected for the 33rd class of Nieman Fellows, to study at Harvard University in 1970-71. Mr. Pekkanen plans to study the history of American social and political movements. 1964 Arlene (Andrew) Banks writes that she and husband William P. will be in New Haven this summer, where Mr. Banks will be doing research at Yale. Mrs. Banks called our attention to the appearance of Dr. Paul Rosenberg '61 on a Los Angeles television program about drugs. The University of Rhode Island named David R. Jordan an instructor in Latin for the spring semester. Mr. Jordan is a Ph.D. candidate at Brown University, and holds an A.M. degree from the University of Pennsylvania. Mr. and Mrs. Jeremy C. Leven in March became the proud parents of Zoe Roberts Leven. Mrs. Leven is the former Linda Forte. Sharon (Kaplan) Wallis writes that she and Charles S. Wallis '65 were married on March 14th at her parents' home in Philadelphia. Mr. Wallis holds the degree of Master of Fine Arts from Tyler Institute of Art, and is working full-time as a sculptor. Mrs. Wallis, a Uni- versity of Pennsylvania Law School graduate of 1967, is a staff attorney for the Lawyers' Committee for Civil Rights Under Law. She is working on a program to train law students to represent tenants in eviction cases. John Wise, a painter currently working in painted plexiglass, held his first Washington, D.C., showing this past March. The Washington Post at the time gave Mr. Wise a very favorable review. 1965 Gerald F. Zollars has been appointed Director of Admissions at St. John's College in Santa Fe. Mr. Zollars has been Assistant Director of Admissions of the western campus since 1967. 1966 Robert E. Fields, Jr., we learn from his brother-in-law, Army Captain Frederick J. Blachly, has been awarded a doctor's degree in Bio-Chemistry by King's College, Cambridge. Mr. Fields will remain in England, at least for the time being, doing research and some teaching at Cambridge. A. Stevens Rubin, Jr. received his M.D. degree in June from the University of North Carolina School of Medicine. Dr. Rubin will be an intern this coming year at Philadelphia General Hospital. 1968 Nancy Jean Goldwin and Steven T. Harvey '70 were married Sunday night, June 14th, in an outdoor ceremony held in the quadrangle behind McDowell Hall. The couple wiJI live in the Boston area, where Mr. Harvey will do graduate work at Harvard. 1969 The College has received welcome news that Daniel L. Cleavinger (SF) and his wife, the former Anne Bancroft SF '68, escaped injury in the May earthquake in Chimbote, Peru. The two Peace Corps volunteers lost their small apartment, and were evacuated up the coast to the town of Trujillo. Melissa Nettleship in April assumed duties as Director of Consumer Protection in the New Mexico Attorney General's Office. In Memoriam 1917-Dn. HENRY SHEPPARD, Jn., Baltimore, Md., May 25, 1970. 1925-HAROLD H. CECIL, Stevensville, Md., May 9, 1970. 1933-WILSON J. C. BRAuN, Phoenix, Md., April, 1970. 1934-RrcHARD A. WATSON, Upperco, Md., May, 1970. 1946-VrNcENT W. McKAY, Erie, Pa., May 17, 1970. 29 �ALUMNI MAKE YOUR PLANS NOW ANNAPOLIS HOMECOMING OCTOBER 16-17, 1970 The College St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland 21404 Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The College </em>(1969-1981) Description An account of the resource St. John's College's Office of the Dean published <em>The College</em> from 1969 to 1981. The publication superseded <em><a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/37" title="The Bulletin of St. John's College">The Bulletin of St. John's College</a></em>.  <em>The College</em> was in turn continued by <a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/13" title="The St. John's Review"><em>The St. John's Review</em></a> in 1981.  <br /><br />A separate magazine for St. John's alumni titled <em>The College </em>began publication in 2001, continuing <em>The St. John's Reporter</em>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The College" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=12">Items in the The College Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource 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 Santa Fe, NM Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thecollegemagazine 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. 29 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Development Offices of St. John's College Title A name given to the resource The College, July 1970 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1970-07 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Berns, Laurence Felter, Mary P. Parran, Jr., Thomas Trimmer, Maurice Sullivan, Daniel Description An account of the resource Volume XXII, Number 2 of The College. Published in July 1970. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context The_College_Vol_22_No_2_1970 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 The College https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/1b562899a190bf0fe51162ed3d2274a9.pdf e6a2cc4f2385b4a8d5c8ceb5acd07c14 PDF Text Text FlL~ THE COLLEGE St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland Santa Fe, New Mexico September 1970 �The College Cover: James Madison, by Charles Wilson Peale. Courtesy of Albert E. Leeds, Philadelphia. Inside Front Cover: McDowell Hall, Annapolis. The College is a publication for friends of St. John's College and for those who might become friends of the College, if they came to know it. Our aim is to indicate within the limitations of the magazine form, why, in our opinion, St. John's comes closer than any other college in the nation to being what a college should be. If ever well-placed beacon lights were needed by American education it is now. By publishing articles about the work of the College, articles reflecting the distinctive life of the mind that is the College, we hope to add a watt or two to the beacon light that is St. John's. 1 Editor: Laurence Berns Managing Editor: Mary P. Felter Alumni Editor: Thomas Parran, Jr. Editorial Assistant: Maurice Trimmer Art Editor: Daniel Sullivan, '71 The College is published by the Development Offices of St. John's College, College Avenue, Annapolis, Maryland 21404 (Julins Rosenberg, Director), and Santa Fe, New Mexico (J. Burchenal Ault, Vice President); Member, American Alumni Council. President, St. John's College, Richard D. Weigle. In the September Issue: I Personal Freedom, by Thomas Slakey Published four times a year in April, July, September, and December. Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. Reasonable Politics and Technology, by Laurence Berns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 The Report of the President, 1969-1970. . ....... lOA September 1970 No. 3 l4 News on the Campuses . 16 Alumni Activities Vol. XXII Richard Scofield, 1898-1970 20 �Reasonable Politics and Technology By LAURENCE BERNS Admiration for the intelligence, the courage, the discipline, and the prodigy of orgacnization that made the moon exploration possible has led many to form expectations for similar spectacular successes in dealing with more pressing social, political, and economic problems. It may be salutary, surely not novel, to refer to the dangers that can arise from such unreasonable expectations. First7 moderate, workable, partial, or gradual, solutions get condemned as unsavory compromises or as myopic. Extreme alternatives come to pre-empt the field of action. Second, to turn to the human consequences, compromise or failure breeds frustration; frustration, for some, leads to paralyzing despair; for others, more dangerously, to hatred of their political opposition as the imagined causes of the failure, and finally, to political fanaticism. The workability of parliamentary, republican government is directly proportional to the strength of that philosophical temperament that can accept and appreciate the idea of a "loyal opposition," of honest and honorable disagreement. So far the major premise of this argument, that the expectations are unreasonable, has only been assumed. On what grounds? I As a goal, landing a man on the moon would seem to be uncontroversial. Whether resources should be allocated to it or not may be controversial, but the goal itself is hardly contrm>ersial. There are few, if any, political goals about which this can be said. Dispersion of authority makes for inefficiencies, but allows more scope for individual initiative and for the exercise of individual judgment; concentration of authority may be more efficient, but induces regimentation and, by eliminating checks and balances, makes the abuse of authority more possible. In different circumstances the weight of these different considerations will be different; and probably in all circumstances different men can conscientiously and reasonably differ about their relative importance. Socrates, the political scientist par excellence, elucidated this state of affairs by referring to the distinction between opinion and knowledge, and by arguing that in the cognitive element of political life opinion rather than knowledge will always predominate. Socrates may have hinted, but did not insist, that· full knowledge of the political good was unattainable; but he certainly did argue that such knowledge was extremely rare, hard to come by, and well-nigh impossible to put into political practice. As far as I can tell, the variability of the subject matter, the power of the human passions, and the relative strengths of rational and irrational powers in most men, the central facts these arguments rest upon, have not been changed in any decisive way by the technological development. To refer to the distinction between opinion and knowledge, of course, is not to deny that some opinions -are better than others. II Because opmwns are essentially disputable, and because political disputes, by the passions they arouse, can often be more harmful to society than the original difficulties prompting them, it is frequently more important for political practice to maintain reasonable procedures for settling and dispensing with problems than it is to be certain that the solutions to the problems be correct solutions. 1 Imperfect solutions are not necessarily unreason~ able solutions in a free society: what is most to be avoided is action that could destroy those procedures and institutions for compromise and debate which, by the discussion attendant upon them, open up the way for reason to make the limited but saving contribution that it might make to free political life. For a government to be free, constitutionally authorized governmental and party officials should be free from the kind of coercion, intimidation and pressure that prevents them from making maximum use of their own capacities for rational discourse and debate. This freedom, more 1 Cf. Aeschylus, Oresteia, especially Eumenides. 1 �The College As a goal, landing a man on the moon would seem to be uncontroversial. particularly, the privileges and immunities with regard to their political speech which had been won for members of legislative bodies in tbeir respective legislatures, became the paradigm, it has been suggested, for the rights of free speech and peaceful assembly laid down by the First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States: that is, privileges and immunities with regard to political speech, which till then had been granted only to members of legislative bodies in their legislatures, were guaranteed to all citizens; the entire citizen body as far as its political speech is concerned is conceived by analogy to a free deliberative assembly.2 If this most generous conception is correct, it might provide us with a solution, in principle at least, to the pressing problem of conflict between the right and duty of duly constituted government to govern and the rights of free speech and peaceful assembly guaranteed by the First Amendment: it would not seem to make sense to allow what was meant to serve as an instrument of something analogous to unintimidated rational deliberation to be used to destroy the conditions for rational deliberation in those places where not something analogous to it but unintimidated rational deliberation itself is required. Some seek to mitigate the increasingly technocratic character of modern life by means of what is being called participatory democracy. To the extent that this means transferring authority to local political institutions wherever possible, it is in harmony with -to the extent that it seeks to by-pass or dispense with the direction of leadership by direct democracy, it is in tension with what 2 governed. Our governors, our representatives, should repre- sent not the Hpassions" nor the "inclinations" but the "interests," the well-being, of the represented.3 They are to be provided with the best possible conditions and resources for reasonable, well-informed deliberation; for determining what, under tbe Constitution, the best interests of their constituents and the country as a whole are, and how those interests can best be served. Because they are to be put in the best position for deciding, they are the representativ-es, not the delegates, of the people. The people, on the other hand, are understood as qualified periodically to judge by means of elections their leaders and the general effects of the policies formed by tbeir leaders. In tbis way, among others, they check and influence their leaders. They do not, however, make policy; they are not regarded as some mystical repository of political wisdom or virtue. The formation and execution of policy is to be carried out by those best situated and best qualified to carry it out, by a democratic leadership. A liberally educated leadership, in the classical view, fosters enlightened government and justly secures its own position I) by controlling the overambitious, the demagogic and the autocratic, within its own ranks, 2) by dispensing justice, and 3) by providing moral examples, moral leadership, for the great bulk of the population. Cf. George Anastaplo, The Constitutionalist: Notes on the First Amendment, to be published in 1970 by Southern Methodist University Press, Dallas, p. 5, and chap. 5, sec. 9, esp. pp, 115-120. 2 we regard as the more adequate philosophical psychology of the Declaration of Independence, The Federalist, and the Constitution of the United States. According to the Declaration of Independence governments derive their just powers not from the will but from the consent of the -3 Alexander Hamilton, John Jay, and James Madison, The Federalist, Nos. 49 and 71. �September 1970 cerning educational capacities might perhaps best be left open, but, as the first part of this paper indicates, unreasonable expectations can be at least as dangerous as undue pessimism. IV Whether resources should be allocated to it or not may be controversial ... The winning, the survival, and the extension of freedom are seen to depend not only on sound laws and institutions, but also upon the abilities of the recipients of freedom to use freedom well. More importantly, not only the survival but also the value of any freedom is dependent upon the same abilities, that is, upon the virtues of the citizens, and, primarily, upon the virtues of those who are fit by nature, by training, and by education to guide the rest. III The temptation to seek technical, or mathematical, solutions to political problems was noted at least as early as Aristotle's somewhat humorous description of the preciousness of the first non-professional political projector, Hippodamus. 4 The description seems to su~~est that mathematical studies unaccompanied by humamzmg philosophic and literary studies, not only do little to dispel the mental effects of love of honor, or excessive political ambition, but when coupled with the latter seem to produce a distinctive perversity of their own. The general lesson Aristotle draws from reflection on Hippodamus is that it is unreasonable to expect political life, which cannot abstract from habit and custom, from human pa~swn, prejudice and stupidity, to be able to proceed 1n as reasonable a way as the arts and the sciences. . One might argue that the situation Aristotle descnbed c<1n be remedied by universal education. Are all, or most, or even many men educable in that way? The question con- 4 Aristotle, Politics, bk. ii. Technological progress has brought along with itself certain unprecedented problems: overpopulation, pollution of the physical environment, pollution of the spmtual environment by the mass media and advertising, to mention only a few. The technocratic controls reqmred to remedy these ills may make, or have already made, a certam loss of individual liberty unavoidable; every effort should be made to reduce such losses to a minimum. Technology makes it easier for more and more people to gratify all kinds of desires, some grand and presumably harmless, like going to the moon, some abominable, like those of the recent tyrants of Russia and Germany, and very many very petty desires. No responsible scientist (microbiologists included) or engineer has claimed that technology can provide men with the wisdom to desire what is good for them. The most responsible use of technology, of the science of means, would be to free men-for the fuller development of their spiritual, or mental, capacities. Yet from within the scientistic perspective these higher purposes are hardly visible, and the spiritual energies of more and more men are being absorbed and monopolized by technique and technical tasks. Knowing how crowds out learning why. The disproportion between human power and human wisdom grows apace. What originated as instrumental carries us along in the wake of fortuitous and unpredictable developments. To be in a position where human error IS intolerable, where the very conditions of existence of the race as a whole are at hazard, can be fatal for more than political liberty. The problematic character of the great project for the conquest of nature is becoming increasingly obvious. What would seem to be required is a thoroughgoing reconsideration of the principles of that project, of the science which gives it life, and of the alternatives to that science. That reconsideration might well begin by turning to the serious study of those who have devoted themselves most humanely, most industriously, and most intelligently to the exploration of the human psyche, to seeking the science of ends-that is, to Homer, to Aristotle, to Plato, to Shakespeare, and to the authors of the Bible. Laurence Berns, Tutor at St. John's Col1ege since 1960, received his Ph.D. degree from the Social Sciences Division of TI1e University of Chicago. He was a Lecturer in the liberal arts at the University from 1956 to 1959. He has written a chapter on Thomas Hobbes, History of Political Philosophy, Rand McNally, 1963,_ and a chapter on "Aristotle's Poetics" in Ancients and Modems, Bas1c Books, 1964. He has lectured on "Liberal and Illiberal Politics," "Piety in King Lear" and "Rational Animal-Political Animal: Nature and Convention in Politics and Human Speech." He is currently engaged in a translation of Aristotle's Politics for Basic Books. 3 �Personal Freedom* By THOJVi.AS SLAKEY I n the political jargon of the day, no word comes so easily to the lips as the word "freedom." We call ourselves free men, citizens of a free country, the leaders of the free world. The civil rights marchers used to sing of a time when ''We shall all be free," and now, more stridently, they call for it, "freedom now." We are fond of quoting, "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." And yet some of what passes for truth among us helps to destroy onr freedom. That is, it destroys our understanding of freedom, and therefore, I believe, helps to destroy onr freedom itself. I can perhaps best illustrate what I mean by referring to a debate between the psychologists B. F. Skinner and Carl R. Rogers which took place in 1956 acnd was reported in the magazine Science at that time. 1 Skinner is best known as the author of a Utopian novel, Walden Two, which describes a community designed and controlled by expert psychologists. Rogers and Skinner agree that the sciences of human behavior, psychology, sociology, anthropology, and so on, are rapidly growing in their ability to predict and to control. They are beginning to establish laws about human beings which have the form of laws about physical particles, such that Hthe existence of certain describable at exposures so brief that the viewers arc completely unaware of having seen the word. They tend, however, to see the face as becoming angry. Then the experimenter begins to flash the word "happy" on the screen in similar fashion. Now the viewers see the face as becoming more happy.2 What arc the consequences of such growing po"'er to predict and to control for the ancient belief in the freedom of the will? For Skinner the consequences arc obvious: the conception of human freedom is simply an illusion. In fact he welcomes a future in which expert psychologists will exercise a greater and greater control over their fellow human beings, somewhat in the fashion of his novel Walden Two. 3 Rogers, on the other hand, does see a difficulty. He asserts that alongside the growing evidence that human behavior is subject to laws, there is also the direct and immediate experience of "responsible personal choice, the most essential clement in being a person . ... To deny the experience of responsible choice, is to me as restricted a view as to deny the possibility of a behavioral science" (Readings, p. 136). And yet Rogers, in this debate, could see no way to reconcile freedom and behavioral science. He thought that the assertion of both must re- conditions in the human being and/or in his environment main a paradox, "The great paradox of behavioral science," is followed by certain describable consequences in his actions" (Readings, p. 128). To give an example of predictability: a certain test on the perception of a dim spot of light in a dark room can be used as a predictor of race prejudice. To give an example of control: the use of comparable to the paradox in physics of the wave and particle theories of light: we assert both that light behaves as if it were composed of waves and as if it were composed of particles without in any way being able to reconcile the two assertions. Similarly, Rogers says, we assert both that man's behavior is predictable and that it is free without in any way being able to reconcile the two assertions (Readings, p. 136). Later, in his book On Becoming a Person, Rogers sketched a partial solution of the paradox and I will speak of it later. But it is not only among professional psychologists that there is difficulty with the concept of freedom. Consider subliminal or unconscious perceptions. A face is shown on a screen. The viewers are asked to note how the expression changes. Then the experimenter, without changing the image of the face, flashes the word "angry" on the screen *A lecture delivered at St. John's College, Santa Fe, February, 1968. My quotations are from the reprint in Readings in Abnormal Psychology, Human Values and Abnormal Bel1avior, \V. D. Nunokawa, ed., Chicago, 1965, pp. 122-139 (hereafter cited as Readings). Rogers later returned to this subject in his book On Becoming a Person, Boston, 1961. 1 4 the emphasis in modern literature on abnormal and erratic 2 3 Examples from On Becoming a Person, pp. 369, 373. See Readings, pp. 122-139 passim, and esp. pp. 136, 138. �September 1970 behavior. In part this emphasis expresses what poets have always expressed, an interest in unconventional characters and a rebellion against stale and meaningless traditions. But I think there is something more involved: a rebellion not only against stale reasoning from the past, but against reason as such. In her lecture earlier this year on Jean Paul Sartre, Miss Hazel Barnes spoke of a man standing on the edge of a cliff. Most probably he will not jump off. But he could jump off, she insisted, he really could jump off. Why should she insist on this possibility? Because she feels that to guide one's actions by reasoning about alternatives, to explain the actions of others by giving reasons for what they did, and perhaps most of all to predict the actions of others by figuring out what reasons might lead them in one direction or another, all of these are hostile to our freedom because they show that our actions are determined in some way. \Ve do not freely perform an act; we are led to it, driven to it, restricted to it by reasons. E ven in a book like Tolstoy's War and Peace, which is written within the conventions of the 19th century novel, whose characters are fairly con- ventional in ideas and behavior, one finds an attack on the use of reason. Tolstoy shows us Pierre Besuhov, fumbling, foolish, always constructing elaborately reasoned plans for the best use of his great wealth. Yet after the war and his experiences of suffering, after his mysterious friendship with the simple peasant Pia ton Karataev (note the name Platon), Pierre finds himself a changed man. Tolstoy says of him, Now to his own surprise he found that he had no more doubt or hesitation on all such qttestions. Now there was a judge within him settling what he must do and what he must not, by some laws of which he was himself unaware (Modern Library ed., no date, p. 1033). Similarly, Nikolay Rostov, befote the war always worrying about what to do and usually behaving badly, after the war becomes a very successful farmer, skilled at handling his serfs. Tolstoy says of him, He could not have said what his standard was of what he ought and ought not to do; but there was a standard firm and rigid in his soul (p. 1068). The novel as a whole fills out and lends plausibility to this view. We see battles, complex, vast, involving thousands of individual men. Who can plan them in any detail? Who can predict their outcome? On the other hand, we see men and women falling in love. Who can say why Andre loves Natasha? Various reasons can be given but they do not add up to a full explanation. The whole is larger than the sum of the parts. Somehow we feel that if Andre could catalogue all of his reasons for loving Natasha, his love would be sterile, perhaps even destroyed. Thus while there is surely some truth in the view that we cannot guide our lives by fully articulated reasons, yet the anti-rationalism of the novel is very heavy, heavy despite Tolstoy's own rich and subtle understanding of the people he portrays. Why? The long philosophical Epilogue at the end of the novel shows us why. Tolstoy sees a conflict between free will and determinism, between acting freely and guiding one's life by detern1ining reasons. He says, speaking in his own person in the Epilogue, 11 0nce admit that human life can be guided by reason, and all possibility of life is annihilated" (p. 1054, and see pp. 1101-36 passim). Finally, if we move from the world of behavioral science and the world of literature to our own familiar experience, I think we find all about us the pursuit of the irrational. I will only mention two of the most obvious manifestations: experimentation with the so-called "mind expanding" drugs, and fascination with the non-rational aspects of religion, especially with the non-rational aspects of Eastern religions. Thus I assert again that there are difficulties with the concept of freedom, and most fundamentally with two questions: what does ((freedom" mean? and, what does the guidance of one's life by "reasons" mean? 5 �The College I would like to begin my attempt to discuss these two questions by examining something which Skinner takes as an obvious fact: that predictability is incompatible with freedom. Is this the case? Consider an example. Socrates is ordered by the government of the Thirty to take part in the arrest of another citizen. This was a technique used by the Thirty to force prominent people into a public acceptance of their rule and a public affirmation of their authority. Socrates studies the case and decides that the man is innocent. What will he do? We know Socrates' character well enough to predict that he will refuse to take part in the arrest. We know the reasons that guide his life and we know how strong he is. Does the fact that we can predict what he will do make his action less free? Consider the alternative possibility. At the decisive moment Socrates is afraid of death and yields to the Thirty. Thus he does not conform to our prediction. Docs this make his action more free? hy then does Skinner see a conflict between predictability and freedom? I think that his view of the matter, and I suspect that he does not realize it, is essentially that articulated by Kant in the Critique of Pure Reason. What Skinner takes as an obvious fact, W needing no discussion, has seemed obvious, I believe, only since the time of Kant. Let us examine what Kant says. Kant defines "freedom" as "absolute spontaneity," as "a power of absolutely beginning a state." 4 He means by this an action which has no cause whatsoever in the events and circumstances prior to it in time. He considers the example of rising from one's chair (B. 479) an example which could have had its origin in a lecture hall like this one. Anyone of you could at this moment rise from his chair and leave the room. This might be due to the oppressive heat of the room, a sud,den pain, a recollection of something you had to do, etc. But if your action is due to any such event or circumstance, Kant sees it as caused and for him this means not free. Only if your action is such that it begins a completely new sequence of events in space-time which has no relation whatsoever to any previous events can your action be called free. Kant sees, of course, with his characteristic courage and strength to follow out his ideas to their ultimate logical consequences, that such a conception of hee human acts takes them completely outside of any possible scientific consideration. "Science" here means not only the science of Skinner and Rogers, who try to set up laws of human behavior which are modeled on the laws of physics, but also "sciencen in the broader sense of knowledge about human behavior of the kind one finds in Aristotle's Ethics, or Plutarch's Lives, or even the kind of knowledge one finds in countless novels and plays. Kant discusses, for example, "a malicious lie by which a 4 Critique of Pure Reason, Norman Kemp Smith, tr., London, 1953, p. 474, B. 473. 6 certain confusion has been caused in society" (B. 582). He sees that we can study the history of the man who lied, considering his upbringing, his friends, his natural disposition of shamelessness, perhaps, or of levity and thoughtlessness. But none of this is in any way relevant to our judgment of his lie as a free act. For this consideration, "we presuppose that we can leave out of consider- ation what this way of life may have been, that we can regard the past series of conditions as not having occurred and the act as being completely unconditioned by any preceding state, just as if the agent in and by himself began in this action an entirely n.ew series of consequences" (B. 583). Furthermore, all judgments of morality are concerned only with actions as free. Kant again draws the logical consequence, "'T'he real morality of actions, their merit or guilt, even that of our own conduct, thus remains entirely hidden from us" (B. 580). Given such a view of freedom as absolute spontaneity, how is it possible for Kant to assert its existence? It is obvious that at least the vast majority of human actions have some relation to prior events and circumstances. Kant's reply is that any human action can be considered under two quite different aspects. It can be considered as taking place in the world of space~time, the world where causes operate, the world of the natural sciences, the world of most of our ordinary experience. But it is a mistake to think that this world is the only existing reality. Behind this world of experience, of appearances, of phenomena, which is essentially a human construction, lies another world of what he calls "Things in themselves." It is in this world, as real as or even more real than the world of phenomena, that the free human act exists, that the immortal soul exists, that God exists. It is the concern of the entire Critique to establish the plausibility of the world of Things-in-themselves, and I cannot review Kant's arguments here. I will only point out that those who accept Kant's conception of freedom as absolute spontaneity but who do not accept his argument for a world of . Things-in-themselves separate from the empirical world end by either denying the existence of freedom, like Skinner, or by seeing the existence of freedom as an absolute and incomprehensible paradox, like Rogers. I believe that if one accepts the terms in which Kant discusses the problem, if one accepts the concept of freedom as absolute spontaneity, then there are no other alternatives. L et us consider, then, why Kant conceives of freedom in these terms. We began with writers of our own century. We sought the roots of their thinking in Kant. We now must take a further step backwards and seek the roots of Kant's thinking in Hobbes. Hobbes takes as his model for the understanding of human behavior the new mechanical philosophy of the 17th Century, which explains events in terms of matter in motion. Thus in a chapter on method from his De �September 1970 The vast majority of human actions have some relation to prior events and circumstances ... Corpore, he asserts that "motion cannot he understood to have any other cause besides motion" (VI, 5). He first discusses the motions considered by physics, and then asserts 1 (VI, p. 31). The beginning of a voluntary motion is called an "appetite" or "desire," if it is toward something, and an "aversion," if it is away from something. "Good" and "evil" are defined in terms of appetite toward and away from. The only difference Hobbes sees between After physics we must come to moral philosophy; in which we are to consider the motions of the mind, namely, appetite, aversion, love, benevolence, hope, fear, anger, emulation, envy, etc.; what cause they have, and of what they be cause. And the reason why these are to be considered after physics is, that they can directly perceive, whereas "pleasures of the mind" arise from the expectation of pleasures of sense from some object which is absent (VI, p. 34). Thus no distinction is made among kinds of pleasures or kinds of voluntary have their causes in sense and imagination, which are motions. the subject of physical contemplation. (VI, 6) Note what Hobbes casts together here in a single group. Let me repeat the list: ~'appetite, aversion, love, benevolence, hope, fear, anger, emulation, envy, etc." All of these are motions produced by causes, specifically by prior motions in sense and imagination. No distinction is made among kinds of motions produced by kinds of causes. Motions of love and benevolence are of essentially the same type as motions of appetite and anger. If my child is hurt and I comfort him in an effort to help him stop crying, this is to be understood in essentially the same terms as when, annoyed by his crying, I shout at him and strike him. Or, to return to our earlier example, when Socrates stands against the judgment of the Thirty and refuses to cooperate in the arrest of an innocent man, this is to be understood in essentially the same terms as if, through fear, he yielded. The interpretation I have made of the quotation from De Corpore can be supported from the chapter on "Volun· tary motions" in Leviathan-' Hobbes distinguishes in animals two sorts of motions, vital motions, such as the motion of the blood through the body, breathing, nutrition, and so on, and voluntary motions, such as walking, moving our arms, speaking, and so on. Voluntary n1otions are defined as motions "first fancied in our minds" 5 Page references are to the Blackwell edition, Oxford, 19 57. "pleasures of sense" and "pleasures of the mind" is that "pleasures of sense" arise from present objects which _we G iven such an account of pleasu. re, how does Hobbes think that we deliberate among pleasures, how do we choose? Hobbes considers deliberation simply as a succession of appetites and aversions. First we incline toward some object, then we incline away from it, due to a fear of some evil consequence. "The whole sum of desires, aversions, hopes and fears continued till the thing be either done, or thought impossible, is that we call deliberation" (VI, p. 37). Choice, or "will," is simply "the last appetite in deliberating" (VI, p. 38), the appetite which is immediately followed by motion toward the object. Again, no distinction is made among kinds of objects which move the will. Such a conception of choice is evident in a popular tendency to place an action like giving money to the poor or risking one's life to save a drowning man on essentially the same level as eating a piece of candy or taking a ride on a roller coaster, classing all these actions as the same because they produce a kind of "pleasure" or usatisfaction," with no distinction made among kinds of pleasure or satisfaction. Such supposed psychological sophistication is to be contrasted with the naive judgment that some human actions are genuinely 41 altn1istic," that is, fundamentally directed toward others, alteri. I turn now to Hobbes' account of freedom. For Hobbes the question of "freedom" or "liberty" offers no difficulty whatsoever. "Liberty" is defined simply 7 �The College as ''the absence of opposition"; and "opposition" means "external impediments of motion" such as walls and chains (XXI, pp. 136, 137). Thus, unless a man is actually tied down or confined within a certain space, he is said to be free. In this sense of "freedom," as Hobbes sees clearly, animals are free in the same way that man is, and even water, when it is not constrained to flow within certain banks, can be said to be free (XXI, pp. 136, 137). Thus, to say that a man has "free-will" means simply that "he finds no stop, in doing what he has the will, desire, or inclination to do" (XXI, p. 137). But what of the freedom of the will itself, when a man chooses to do one thing rather than another? Hobbes denies that a creature having the power of thought and judgment might be free in a sense in which animals and inanimate objects are not. Finally, when he goes on to discuss political liberty, he is able to say that it makes sense only for a state as a whole, which succeeds in operating without constraint from other states. Within a state, there is as much or as little liberty in a monarchy as there is in a democracy, since both states constrain men to abide by the laws. Hobbes says that the idea of political liberty is essentially an illusion inherited from the Greeks and the Romans! (XXI, pp. 140, 141) Now, what is the line of development from Hobbes' discussion of deliberation, choice and liberty to the Kantian difficulties about freedom? Despite the vast differences in the conclusions they draw, I think the line of development is very simple and direct. Kant does want to affirm the presence in man of a kind of freedom which is not simply the absence of external restraints. It is a freedom to do what one knows to be right despite one's upbringing, despite one's desires, despite the conditions in which one is acting. It is a freedom which is the basis of moral choice. Nevertheless, Kant accepts the terms in which Hobbes has discussed the problem. Kant makes no distinction among the kinds of causes which act on the will. Everything which acts on the will is a kind of mover, or "motive," which produces a certain motion as its effect, analogous to a physical particle producing a physical motion. Whether a man does something for good reasons, or does it in a fit of rage it is all one, an action which is caused and could have been predicted. The only kind of freedom Kant can see is a complete absence of causation of any kind, an "absolute spontaneity" which has no reference whatever to anything prior to it in time. Kant affirms that such freedom exists, but it is an affirmation which depends on a world of "things-in-themselves" lying outside experience. U p to this point, my argument has been largely negative. I have tried to describe a conceptual problem and to show what its origins are. At several points I have suggested that the fundamental error which gives 8 rise to the problem is the failure to distinguish among kinds of human actions, among the kinds of things which lead men to act, that is, the tendency to class everything indifferently as a "motive," as a mover of the human will analogous to a billiard ball producing motion in another billiard ball. I wish now to make a fresh start by considering a thinker who stands completely outside the tradition which begins with Hobbes and whose discussion of human behavior consists primarily in distinguishing among kinds of men and kinds of human actions. I refer to Aristotle and particularly to his Ethics. The first thing to notice is that Aristotle brings to his discussion of human behavior not a single model of causality, as does Hobbes, but a distinction of four kinds of cause, that is, four ways of answering the question "why?" Only one of these is described in terms of motion, namely, the efficient cause, or that from which motion begins. Answers to the question "why?" can also be given in terms of the components of a thing, the material cause, or in terms of the nature or definition of a thing, the formal cause, or, most important in the present context, in terms of the end or goal, the telos, at which something aims, called the "final" cause. It is interesting to note that this distinction is obscured in a crucial way by the English translators of the Ethics, who are themselves fully in the grip of the Hobbesian tradition. Thus Aristotle speaks of "the principles" of human action. His word is arche, which means simply "beginning." W. D. Ross, in the translation familiar to most of us, the one published in the one volume Basic Works of Aristotle, writes "moving principle" (lllOa 2). The Loeb translator goes still farther. At a point where Aristotle speaks of the telos or goal of an action, he writes "the end or motive" (l!IOa 14). In some sense these translations are not incorrect, and yet I think they illustrate the difficulty that both of these translators had in reading an ancient text without bringing their own habits of mind to it, and the still greater difficulty for one whose only reading of an ancient text is filtered through translations. L et us proceed. We move from the general classification of causes, which deals with all kinds of events in the inanimate as well as the animate world, to the particular discussion of human behavior. Aristotle's first concern is to define "voluntary" action, but the order in which he proceeds is extremely interesting. He begins by considering "involuntary" action, perhaps because he finds it easier to identify and to describe. Involuntary action is, first of all, action which is compelled or forced, and what this means is made clear by examples. A man riding in a boat which is carried off course by the wind, or a man physically dragged along by stronger men is said to act under compulsion. Aristotle defines this as action in which the arche, the principle or beginning of the action, is outside the person (Ethics, III, I, ll!Oa �September 1970 We presuppose that individuals do have control over their own actions ... l-4). Involuntary action is, secondly, action done through ignorance, and again what this means is clarified by examples. A trainer thinks that a spear he is using in practice has a blunted point. In fact the spear does not have a blunted point and the trainer kills his pupil. His ac.t was done through ignorance; that is, in a literal sense, he did not know what he was doing. If had known the spear was pointed he would not have done what he did ( lllOb 17lllla 20). Aristotle is now in a position to define voluntary action. I quote: Since that which is done under compulsion or by reason of ignorance is involuntary, the voluntary would seem to be that of which the arche, the principle, is in the agent himself, he being aware of the particular circumstances of the action ( lllla 21). Thus two conditions are required for an action to be voluntary. First, the principle of the action must be in the agent himself. T11is means simply that the agent is not compelled. Second, the agent must know what he is doing. This means simply that the agent is not ignorant of the circumstances of his action. In other words, voluntary action is defined negatively. An act is voluntary unless it is done through compulsion or ignorance, unless, that is, it is involuntary. Voluntary action means action which is not involuntary. I n the course of his discussion, Aristotle moves from the clear cases of involuntary action to the ambiguous cases. What about someone who, to avoid sinking in a storm, throws his goods overboard? Is not his action in some sense compelled? (lllOa 8) Or what about someone threatened with terrible punishment if he does not do what he is told? ( lllOa 5, 20-33) Or could one not even say that all pleasant and noble objects have a kind of compelling power which forces us from without? (Ill Ob 9) Or again, what of a man who is drunk or a man in a violent fit of rage? Is he not in some sense ignorant of what he is doing? (lllOb 25) And could one not say that any man, who does not know that what he is doing is wrong, is in a sense ignorant of what he is doing? ( lllOb 29-34) Aristotle's response to these ambiguous cases and the questions which arise from them is in a way dissatisfying and yet interesting. He acknowledges that a man who throws his goods overboard in a storm or who pursues pleasure is, in some sense of the word, "compelled." But he refuses to assimilate this to the case of a man who is compelled in the sense that he is physically dragged along. Aristotle sees that a man in the sway of passion is in a sense ignorant of what he is doing, and yet he refuses to assimilate this to the case of the trainer who thinks that the spear he is using is blunt (III, 1, passim). Aristotle does not aim at theoretical simplicity. Again and again he returns to particular examples, and I have mentioned only a small number of those he actually describes. In any case, let us postpone for the moment the difficulties arising from the ambiguous cases, and follow Aristotle's analysis to its next stage, which is a discussion of choice. F or Aristotle not all voluntary actions are chosen; for example, actions done in anger. He ascribes volun- tary action to children and animals, but not choice. What then distinguishes choice? Again Aristotle has a simple criterion. He describes the activity of bou1euest1:wi, which means taking counsel, planning, advising. (The word commonly used to translate bouleuesthai, "deliberation," is of Latin origin and has the specific sense of deciding among alternative courses of action, that is, of weighing alternatives on a balance, libra.) Aristotle points out, for example, that we do not take counsel or make plans concerning eternal things, such as mathematical propositions. We investigate them and think about them, but we do not consider what to do about them. Similarly concerning natural events which always happen in the same way, such as the rising of the sun. Similarly still about chance events, like stumbling on a buried treasure. And finally concerning things impossible for us, like becoming emperor of Persia, we do not make plans, we do not deliberate. For none of these things come about "through us," di'hemon, through our efforts. What then do we deliberate about? We deliberate about things which "are in our power and can be done," as Ross translates it, ton eph' hemin kai prakton, which are ours and which are do-able" (1112a 19-30). With this description of deliberation as a basis, choice is then simply defined in terms of deliberation. When is an action chosen? When it follows deliberation (1112a 15). 11 N ote that this definition presupposes that actions 11 which are chosen are actions which belong to us" as Aristotle puts it, eph' hemin, or as Ross translates 11 it, "are in our power." What are actions in our power"? Again the meaning of the expression comes negatively from examples of things not in our power: mathematical propositions, the rising of the sun, stumbling on a buried treasure, and so on. Yet Aristotle does go on to explicitly 9 �The College consider the question whether good and bad actions, acts of virtue and vice, are really "in our power" in a deeper sense. He first points out that both in our private lives and in our laws we presuppose that individuals do have control over their own actions, for we punish those who do evil acts and honor and praise those who do good acts, as though we meant to deter the one and to encourage the other ( 1113b 22-5). He also points out that we excuse those who acted under compulsion or in ignorance, when both arc taken in the strict sense defined earlier. For ignorance in a looser sense, for example when ignorance is due to drunkenness, one is not excused and in fact the penalties might even be increased. This is because we feel that the person was responsible for his own ignorance (1113b 30). But now comes the difficult question. One can agree with all that Aristotle has said and accept the accuracy of his definitions and the claim that they reflect the practice of our lives. But one can still ask whether the apparent power that we have over our choices might not be an illusion. For one can still ask whether the way in which possible alternatives appear to a person is really in his power. Does not paying his debts appeal to one man because of the way he has been brought up, whereas cheating appeals to another man? Aristotle does raise this question, but his answer might seem too obvious and too close to our ordinary experience to be very impressive. He reverts to his general discussion of virtues and vices, which are simply states of character or habits acting in certain ways. Before one has acquired a habit, Aristotle asserts, one does have the power to act differently. After one has acquired a certain habit, for example the habit of drinking heavily, one does not have the power to change, at least not to the same degree (1114a 3-22). How does one acquire good habits? How does one become temperate and courageous? The answer is simple but the task is difficult: one becomes temperate or courageous simply bv repeatedly performing acts of temperance and courage (Ethics, II, I, 4; III, 5). T his point is filled out by the discussion of akrasia in Book VII of the Ethics. Akrasia means simply "lack of strength" but is usually translated as "weakness of will" or "incontinence." With regard to sensual pleasures, pleasures of food, drink and sex, Aristotle makes a three-fold distinction. On the one hand there is the virtuous man who enjoys such things to an appropriate degree and at appropriate times. On the other hand, there is the intemperate or vicious man who enjoys them to excess and at inappropriate times. In between there is the man of akrasia. He has good principles, he knows what he ought to do, and yet he is unable to follow his principles. In the particular situation, he is carried away by his desires and indulges more than he intends to. He is a man for whom there is still hope of virtue because he can, by 10 repeatedly restraining his evil desires and performing the individual acts of virtue, finally acquire the habit of doing good, that is, the virtue itself. For the vicious man, on the other hand, there is no hope, because he not only acts badly in the particular situation and under the influence of overwhelming desire, but his very principles have been corrupted. He believes that self-indulgence is a good thing and goes ahead to act on that belief. He is, in one respect, like the man of virtue, in that he acts on his principles. His trouble is that he has acquired bad principles. (See Book VII, Ch. l-10, passim.) Thus, Aristotle says that "the incontinent man is like a city which passes all the right decrees and has good laws, but makes no use of them," whereas <~the wicked man is like a city that uses its laws, but has wicked laws to usc" ( 1152a 20-24). Thus Aristotle's discussion of voluntary action and choice simply follows our ordinary experience of human behavior. As far as I have observed, nowhere in this discussion is a word used which could be translated "free," and he does not speak to the problem of freedom and determinism posed by Kant because this problem does not arise for him. For him there is no abstract theoretical standpoint from which men could be said to be free-or not free. Nevertheless I have mentioned those passages where Aristotle speaks of actions as eph' hemin, as "ours" or "in our power," and I think we can construct from these passages the direction of Aristotle's reply to Kant. Asked if man is free, Aristotle would not try to answer the question in general, but would discuss whether particular men in particular situations are free and to what degree. To what extent did they understand the circumstances of their action? Did they think about what they were doing before they acted? Or did they act on impulse? Were they angry or agitated at the time the decision was made? Were they drunk? From the replies to these questions we can say to what extent they clwse to do what they did. And to say that they chose is, in Aristotle's terms, to say that the action was "theirs," ''in their power," and, I would add, it is to say that the action was "free." Suppose we then ask, "But what about the choice itself? Was that free?" Again Aristotle wants to know the particular sort of person we are considering and the particular history he has had. Are we offering a drink to a man who enjoys drinking but does not get drunk, to a man who does not often get drunk but who on this particular occasion has been drinking heavily, or to a con- firmed alcoholic who is at this moment licking his lips in impatience? It is obvious that in some ordinary sense of the word "free," there are degrees of freedom of choice among these three men. To say that none of them is free is simply to obscure the distinction we would want to make among them. If we refuse to use the word "free" to make this distinction because we are reserving it for some high theoretical meaning, then we have to find �REPORT OF THE PRESIDENT 1969 Through the past year of campus dissension and unrest across America, the students and Tutors of St. John's College distinguished themselves by their sane and rational behavior. Almost all of them were gravely concerned over the war in Southeast Asia and the crisis at Kent State University. To express their dissent from national policy they chose what they considered to be proper and appropriate means-a letter to the President signed by individuals and delivered by hand to the White House, a twenty-four hour peace vigil, letters and visits to congressmen, and an extra day of classes on Vietnam and on the general problem of dissent. St. John's College believes that there is grave danger to higher education in this country if colleges and universities as entities take political stands. Such politicization could well result in the subversion of these institutions into action agencies and in the ultimate loss of real academic freedom. St. John's students and Tutors correctly insisted that their opinions be understood as those of individual citizens and that the College not be officially or implicitly involved. In the words of the letter to the President, "St. John's College is devoted to the life of the mind, to reason, and to dialogue. We cannot subscribe to irrational and violent methods of dissent, since they imply an abandonment of the fundamental principles for which a college or university should stand .... We shall continue with our regular academic program. We believe that our primary responsibility as students and teachers is to continue to study and learn." A college or university must be a place where any idea or opinion may be expressed, entertained, examined, or criticized. Complete freedom of inquiry must prevail. 1970 The goal must be the search for truth. The rules musf be the rules of reason. The tools are the liberal arts, the thinking skills. To prescribe a position, a dogma, a doctrine, or a political stand is to vitiate freedom to question, to discuss, to study, and to learn. The contemporary trend of making colleges and universities action institutions to deal with society's problems and woes is fraught with real danger. A college like St. John's must continue to adhere steadfastly to principle in these matters. Nor does this mean any lack of concern for the outside world. St. John's will have failed in its full mission if its graduates are not inspired or impelled to meet their full responsibilities as citizens of the Republic. It is interesting that St. John's students declined during the critical days to judge their fellows in other institutions. Some thought that they might have acted differently had they not been at St. John's. As one student put it, striking against St. John's College would be senseless, for students here already have most of what students elsewhere are seeking-small classes, genuine dialogue with Tutors, a sense of the dignity and worth of the individual, full opportunity to participate in class, and serious and thoughtful discussion of the great questions of human existence. Indeed, the vague smoldering disenchantment with the conventional academic experience appears to me to be at the root of the problem for students in many colleges and universities. This disconrent is capitalized upon by the relatively small and vocal minority of dissident radicals, who associate it with political issues to which it is at best remotely relevant. In my opinion no palliative or remedy of the ills of higher education can be found in the coBtemporary movement to involv-e students in the governance of our col- lOA �The College leges and universities through board membership, or to make them partners in planning the curriculum. A college cannot and should not be a democracy. In fact, a college is not a political organization of any sort. One of the vital tasks of colleges should be to preserve the distinction between an educational community and a political community. Each segment-board, faculty, and students of the college community-has its assigned role. Responsibility rests by charter with the board and is delegated by it to the president. He in turn delegates it to deans, administrators, faculty, and students. Students must indeed be listened to on all matters, and their ideas, proposals, and suggestions should be seriously and tj10ughtfully considered. But a college faculty cannot evade or surrender its basic responsibility for prescribing that course of study which in its opinion is most likely to result in a liberally educated man or woman. Nor can a board, a president, or a dean yield to expediency or pressure and fail to maintain those conditions which are considered m 0st conducive to real learning. A college, to be true to its purpose, should be a community of learners. It is significant that the word "community" is derived from the Latin communis-con mean~ ing "together" and the root mu meaning "to bind." From the same origin comes the word communico, meaning "to divide a thing with one, to impart, or to communicate." As a community, then, a college is a society or body of disparate individuals bound together by the common goal of learning. In such a body communication, the full sharing of thoughts :md ideas is paramount. There must also be a proper ordering of the body if its laudable ends are to be achieved. Hence the need for clearly defined functions and working relationships. Quinquennial Polity Revision The year just ended at St. John's College witnessed a further development and refinement of the College's basic constitution, the Polity. It has been a major accomplishment that every five years a mandatory reveiw. of this document has been completed to the general satisfaction of the various segments of the college community. This year notable progress was made by broadening the concept of the Faculty to include not only Tutors, the teaching members, but Associates as well, that is, administrative staff members. Sections defining the role of the students were amplified, and, for the first time, the alumni were included as part of the College. Both campuses were accorded equal status. A major change in administrative structure was instituted by the creation of the position of Provost on the Annapolis campus. This new post will have presidential powers, though the incumbent will report to the President of the College rather than to the Board. The objective is to relieve the President of many administrative details and to assure greater attention to the developing needs of the Annapolis campus. A search for a suitable candidate for the provostship is now in progress. lOB The Annapolis Campus Robert Goldwin brought to the deanship a high degree of vigor, imagination, and judiciousness. With remarkable success he gave high priority to four matters: the attrition of student enrollment, the recording of the instructional program, the rules of residence for students on campus, and the College's relations with the world outside the campus. It is gratifying to report a net loss of only three students throughout the year. The February freshman class and returning students almost replaced the number who left during the year. The significant point is that many fine students, who might have been lost to the College, were apparently satisfied with the progress of their education and stayed on. At the initiative of the Dean, Tutors kept records of what happened in every seminar, and uarchon" or "gau- leiter" Tutors did the same for tutorials and laboratories. As a result a complete account of what is done in every class in every year is now available for the use of new Tutors. These reports are in no sense rigid guides but rather starting points for the further improvement and refinement of the curriculum. In similar fashion, a care- ful record has been kept by Elliott Zuckerman, Secretary of the Instruction Committee, of all its deliberations and decisions. Copies of his report for the year were circulated to all Tutors. Much time and energy were expended in deliberations over possible revision of the rules of residence. A liberalization of the rules resulted. Curfew was eliminated for women students, except for freshman women during the first semester. Visiting hours were extended somewhat, but the College would not accede to the request of some students that dormitories remain open for intervisitation twenty-four hours a day. The general problem will undoubtedly continue to trouble the College. It may be relieved somewhat as a larger proportion of students are permitted to live off campus. As part of his effort to improve relations with the outside world, the Dean instituted two series of seminars. One series was conducted combining St. John's students and midshipmen of the United States Naval Academy. Co-leaders were drawn from the two institutions. A second series was conducted for public figures in Washington and led by the Dean. Tuition for this series was the requirement that participants visit the Annapolis campus and speak on national affairs before the Student Forum. These seminars contributed helpfully to a new understanding of the College by people outside it. Finally, mention should be made of a most significant innovation in the area of instruction. Under the direction of Hugh McGrath, one of the College's most senior Tutors, a six-week New Tutors School was conducted on campus this summer. Five of the seven newly appointed Tutors participated to prepare themselves for the shock of meeting their first classes. The Dean and I are both �September 1970 confident that the quality of teaching by these new Tutors will be greatly improved as a result. The Santa Fe Campus Dean William Darkey reports that notable progress has been made on the western campus in broadening general faculty competence in all areas of the program. Classes were scheduled during the year so as to permit maximum opportunity for auditing. Many Tutors availed themselves of the chance to observe their fellows teaching. As a corollary it is gratifying that almost all requests for teaching assignments for the coming year included at least one subject new to the Tutor. The criterion of extending one's competence in the St. John's Program is already being taken very responsibly. A special study group of music Tutors was set up and met regularly throughout the year. As a result, a syllabus of carefully selected materials was prepared for use in the Music tutorial. Furthermore, three "non-musicians" can now be assigned to the Music tutorial for the coming year. The Dean also reports that six Tutors without previous experience in teaching biology have now successfully taught in that part of the laboratory program, and that a half-dozen faculty members studied elementary Greek for eight weeks this summer. Thomas Slakey instructed the group under the auspices of the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education. Some Tutors learned the language for the first time, others reviewed their previous acquaintance with it. The Dean notes that for the coming year the teaching slate will be somewhat tight, though a ratio of eight students to one Tutor will be maintained. The Dean urges a policy of earlier interviews with prospective faculty members and earlier appointments another year. In general, he concludes that the morale of the faculty has been good on the Santa Fe campus and that the quality of the teaching has been high. Ricl1ard Scofield The entire St. John's community has been saddened by the death of Richard Scofield, one of St. John's greatest and most beloved Tutors. He had retired at the end of June following 43 years of service on the St. John's Faculty. Educated at the University of California and at Oxford University, where he held a Rhodes scholarship, he was first appointed to the St. John's Faculty in 1927 as a member of the English Department. When the New Program was introduced he undertook diligently and enthusiastically the varied duties of a Tutor. Since 1959 he had held an Addison E. Mullikin Tutorship. The scroll honoring Richard Scofield npon his retirement read in part as follows: In these years nothing has been more trusted by students and colleagues alike than his patience, his modesty, his calm perseverance, his subtle understanding, and his unswerving rectitude, nothing more admired than his urbanity and elegance and, above all, his capacity for warm friendship. In his company other persons have felt themselves somehow at their best. The Tutors The selection and training of the best possible faculty members continues to be a matter of prime importance both in the east and in the west. This year each campus received approximately 300 applications for teaching positions. Seven new Tutors have been selected for appointment at Annapolis and three at Santa Fe. Two teaching interns have also been appointed at Santa Fe, both of whom will work toward Master's degrees. Appointed to the Faculty on the Annapolis campus for the coming academic year are Steven Crockett, who holds a Ph.D. degree in the History of Culture from the U niversity of Chicago; William DeHart, who has a doctorate in biology from the University of Rochester Medical School, and who has been an assistant professor at the Medical College of .Virginia; Robert Licht, a young St. John's graduate, who has been teaching philosophy as an instructor at Bucknell University; Brian Patrick McGuire, who has just completed his D.Phil. at Oxford University in History; Alfred Mallin, whose doctorate is in Philosophy from the Penn State University; William O'Grady, who has a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago in Political Science; and Jonathan Skinner, whose doctorate at the Universitv of Massachusetts was in the field of mathematics. Additions to the Santa Fe faculty are John S. Chamberlin, who has completed work for a Ph.D. at the University of Toronto in Medieval Studies; Frank Flinn, who has a B.A. from Quincy College and a B.D. from Harvard Divinity School; and Edward H. Porcella, a St. Mary's College graduate, who holds the M.A. degree in Philosophy from the University of California at San Diego. The two teaching interns on the Santa Fe campus are Mrs. Toni Katz Drew, who graduated from St. John's College in June. and Paul D. Mannick, who completed his undergraduate studies at California State College at Long Beach this year. During the year just ended Douglas Allanbrook, John Kieffer, and J. Winfree Smith were all on sabbatical leave while Gisela Berns, George Berry, Clarence J. Kramer, and Henry Larom were on leave of absence for all or part of the year. Mr. Berry resigned during the year because of the pressure of family business. Peter Brown, Vassilios Christides, Alan Cotler, Carl Linden, Robert Mueller, and George Vahanian, all completed the terms of their appointments and leave the College for other positions. The Students The following excerpt from Dean Darkey' s report well IOC �The College summarizes the student situation on both St. John's campuses: "The quality of campus life at St. John's is as difficult to assess with confidence as it is on any campus. On the one hand, we have escaped the more obvious manifestations of student unrest that have troubled campuses throughout the country. It is certainly safe to say that our advantage is due in part to the essential nature of St. John's itself, that is to its deliberately small size, to the intellectual soundness of its curriculum, and to the high quality of its teaching. Much of the current campus unrest is certainly aggravated by the impersonality of the enormous universities and by the curricular chaos into which students are thrust with the assurance that they will receive an education. By contrast our curriculuill provides a common intellectual experience in a commu- nity small enough to permit an easy dialectical consideration and assimilation of that experience. These conditions and the fact that the curriculum has deep roots in the larger tradition of our society produce community to an unusual degree within the College and this is a source of great strength. "But we must recognize that our students come to us from the same world that other college students come from. Ours are a highly selected group of sensitive and intelligent young men and women who are responsive to the tensions that properly enough trouble all young people today, and although we have escaped the more openly destructive manifestations of those tensions, St. John's is, nevertheless, profoundly affected by them. For example, it is beyond any reasonable doubt that our so-called problem of attrition is a symptom of the general unrest. The student who withdraws, declaring as many do that he has no really serious criticism of St. John' s-in deed he usually avows his intention to return in time-is, in most instances, deeply troubled by the same causes that produce demonstrations on other campuses.'' St. John's on both its campuses had its largest enrollment to date. Attrition at Santa Fe was somewhat higher than at Annapolis. Figures for the vear follow: Annapolis Freshmen February Freshmen Sophomores Juniors Seniors Total Santa Fe Freshmen Sophomores Juniors Seniors Total Grand Total lOD Men 71 14 56 40 35 216 Men 71 40 13 21 145 361 Women 54 7 41 26 24 !52 Women 54 36 15 12 117 269 Total 125 21 97 66 59 368 Total 125 76 28 33 262 630 A major factor contributing to good morale on the Annapolis campus this year was a rejuvenated Collegian. Under the able editorship of Daniel J. Sullivan, of the Junior Class, some thirty weekly issues appeared. The publication was partly newspaper and partly magazine. At Santa Fe the greatest positive contribution to the life of the students was the establishment of the SAO, the Student Activities Office, under the direction of Istvan Fehervary. All sports and other activities fell under the purview of this office, whether soccer, skiing, rafting, and fencing, or photography, the theater, jewelry-making, or the publication Seven. Students were confronted with an increasingly serious problem in the area of financial aid. For Maryland students the State's new scholarship program worked to the disadvantage of those selecting an independent college like St. John's. This is graphically demonstrated by the sharp decline of awards to students attending St. John's over the past five years: Year Number of Students Total Sclwlarsl1ip Funds 1965-66 59 $!19,125 '1966-67 50 99,000 1967-68 45 90,850 1968-69 30 53,800 1969-70 24 32,350 Every effort must be made to alter the system so that a more equitable share of these scholarship funds are made available to Maryland residents desiring to attend independent institutions. In spite of the reduction of state scholarships, the College sought to provide as much financial aid as possible out of its current budgets on both campuses, as the following table shows: Total Annapolis Santa Fe Student Assistantships $ 43,740 $ 48,933 $ 92,673 Grants-in-Aid 67,191 49,464 116,655 Maryland Scholarships 32,350 32,350 Southwest Scholarships 58,500 58,500 Staff Children's Scholarships 3,900 1,950 5,850 Other Scholarships 1,000 42,340 41,340 Educational Opportunity Grants 13,165 6,682 19,847 VI ork-Studv Program 5,992 5,992 $201,686 $172,521 $374,207 These figures include no financial aid through loans, either by local banks or within the National Defense Student Loan program. In June the College awarded 75 Bachelor of Arts degrees, 27 of them on the Santa Fe campus and 48 of them on the Annapolis campus. Five Annapolis seniors received recognition in the form of degrees magna cum laude, that is Hwith great praise.'' Fourteen seniors earned cum laude degrees, that is "with praise," nine in Annap~ �September 1970 olis and five in Santa Fe. These two most recent classes bring to 935 the total number of St. John's graduates of the New Program. Admissions This has been a disappointing year from the standpoint of admissions. In contrast to the 508 applications of last year, only 450 prospective students completed final applications for this fall. Instead of two capacity classes of 125 students each, Annapolis expects to enroll 120 students and Santa Fe 108. Apparently experience at St. John's parallels that of other independent liberal arts colleges. Undoubtedly higher college fees, the depressed state of the economy, and the relative scarcity of loan funds have all contributed to the decreased numbers. In May Douglas Price resigned from his position as Director of Admissions in Santa Fe to become Assistant to the President at the University of Hawaii. Earlier in the year Edward Godschalk had relinquished his responsibilities as Assistant Director of Admissions in Annapolis in order to pursue graduate study. Both men made substantial contributions to the success of the admissions program over the past several years. Gerald Zollars has been appointed Director of Admissions at Santa Fe replacing Mr. Price. Tile Graduate Institute in Liberal Education Under the able directorship of James Shannon, Vice President of the College, the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education completed a successful fourth session this summer and graduated 28 teachers and other adults with the degree of Master of Arts. Full-time enrollment rose from 84 to 120, an increase of nearly half. Graduate Institute students came from 20 States, with the largest number registered from New Mexico and Maryland. It is clear that the Institute is performing a useful service and that every effort must be made to publicize it more widely, particularly in certain of the larger cities in the Midwest. Eighteen Tutors constituted the faculty for the summer, each of them teaching two assignments. Most of the Tutors were drawn from the two St. John's campuses but two Tutors were appointed from other institutions, A. Lowell Edmunds of Harvard University and Mrs. Chaninah Maschler of New York City. Once again generous compliments were paid by the students to the faculty and to the calibre of instruction. This was the final year of the helpful funding grant from the Carnegie Corporation of New York. The Graduate Institute received as well a supporting -grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities. This was made possible by generous matching grants from the Cafritz Foundation of Washington, D. C.; the Hoffberger Foundation of Baltimore, Maryland; and of the Richardson Fund of New York City. Tile Libraries Hugh P. McGrath, a Tutor at the College since 1948, gave the address at the re-dedication of Woodward Hall at Homecoming, October 18, 1969. The new building has found immediate favor with students and Tutors alike on the Annapolis campus, though staff members continue to be haf!led by gremlins in the mechanical equipment. During the summer months especially the availability of quiet air-conditioned space for reading, study, and seminar discussion has been a godsend for the February fresh· men and others. A truly significant accession to the Library holdings during the year was a gift from Mr. and Mrs. Peter H. W. Jackson, of Cedar Hills Plantation, Rutherford, North Carolina, of some 500 volumes published in the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries. Mr. Jackson was a member of the Class of 1943. In Santa Fe the year has been one of re-organizing procedures, systems and routines within the Library. A comprehensive staff procedur~ manual was produced and will be amended as necessary. Notable gifts of music were received from Miss Amelia Elizabeth White of Santa Fe, Professor S. Ellsworth Grumman of New Haven, Connecticut, and Mr. and Mrs. Donald McCormick, of Tulsa, Oklahoma. The Library Committee of Santa Fe citizens, nnder the dynamic chairmanship of Richard Stern, continued its successful Book and Author luncheons, drawing sell-ant crowds for the benefit of the Library. The Associates and the Stafl After only a year as Vice President on the Santa Fe campus, James P. Shannon has resigned to undertake study of the law. He won many new friends during the year for his work in the Greek tutorial, for his counseling, and for directing the Graduate Institute. His role in development is also greatlv appreciated. Appointed to replace Mr. Shannon in the vice-presidency is J. Burchenal Ault, of Oyster Bay, Long Island, the unanimous recommendation of the Faculty's search committee and of the College's administrative officers. Other departures from the Santa Fe staff include Marie Winterhaler, Registrar and Acting Assistant Dean, and Frank McGuire, Director of Development. Mrs. Winterhaler was the first staff appointee at the new college in 1962. She remains at St. John's as the wife of a Tutor, Roger Peterson. Mr. McGuire undertakes work with the Indians. He did yeoman service for the College in bringing it closer to the Santa Fe community. The College records its gratitude to both, and also to John T. Rule, who served an interim one-year appointment as Assistant Dean. In addition, the following personnel changes should be recorded: Mrs. Emily Van Horn was appointed secretary to the Director of the Graduate Institute. Mrs. JOE �The College Esther Lopez and Mrs. Marilyn Copelan were added to the staff of the Development Office, replacing Mrs. Van Horn and Mrs. Louise Tamotzu. In the Library, Mrs. Holly Tani was succeeded by Mrs. Beth Floyd. Her position on the switchboard was filled by Mrs. Ruth Archer. Another library appointee was Miss Linda McCormick. Charles Webb managed the College Book Store. At Annapolis Charles Finch, who had been Assistant Dean, was appointed Director of Financial Aid and Placement. Dr. Robert Biern and Dr. Charles Kinzer were named College Physicians and Dr. Sigmund Amitin College Psychiatrist, succeeding Dr. Gerard Church and Dr. Robert Ward. Mrs. Jnlianna Rugg was appointed College Nurse. Mrs. Kathryn P. Kinzer was appointed Assistant Librarian, and Mrs. Josephine B. Thoms served for the year as Director of the Fine Arts Studio. Mrs. Leanore Rinder was named a secretary in the Dean's Office, while in the Development Office Mrs. Violet R. Keily was replaced by Mrs. Renee Jabine, who was in turn succeeded by Mrs. Emalea E. Noyes. Everett Whitehead resigned as Library Assistant at the end of the year. During the coming academic year Miss Barbara Leonard, Assistant Dean, will be on sabbatical leave. Geoffrey Comber will serve as Acting Assistant Dean in her stead, while her place in Campbell Hall will be filled by Miss Charlotte King, of the Class of 1959, who will be Resident Head and Student Counsellor for the year. The Alumni By all available measures the year just ended was a good one for alumni activities. The stage was set with a successful Homecoming. This was followed by re-vitalized and informal chapter activities in Annapolis, Baltimore, Washington, and New York. The program of counselling of undergraduates has involved a considerable number of alumni, to the profit of the graduating seniors. Finally, it is noteworthy that 838 alumni gave a total of $26,140 in the annual giving campaign, by far the greatest number of donors and the largest amount contributed to date. Again the affairs of the Alumni Association were in the capable hands of Darrell Henry, of the Class of !96!, as President. J. S. Baker Middelton, of the Class of 1938, and Myron L. Wolbarsht, of the Class of !950, were each re-elected by the Alumni for second consecutive terms on the Board of Visitors and Governors of the College. The Alumni Award of Merit was presented this year to Dr. Louis L. Snyder, of the Class of !928, Professor of History at City College of the City University of New York. Finances From a financial point of view the past year was a major disaster for the Santa Fe campus, which failed by $251,828 to balance its current expenditures and appropriations of lOF $1,527,961. Income from fees was lower by $50,000 than the budget estimate, but the main problem resulted from a failure to develop new unrestricted gifts. The depressed state of the stock market was undoubtedly a major cause of the College's difficulty. Every effort must now be exerted to develop substantial new sources of support, for the new college's borrowing power has been exhausted. The Annapolis campus fared somewhat better but still ended the year with an excess of expenditures over revenue in the amount of $13,687. On this campus fees from students and gifts considerably exceeded budget estimates, but greater expenditures for faculty salaries, for student financial aid, and for plant operation and maintenance more than offset the gains. The Annapolis campus now also faces a difficult current cash situation, as its reserve for future operations has been nearly depleted. The book value of the College's endowment fund dropped to $8,776,!98 while the market value reached a low point of $7,141,642 at the end of the fiscal year. The investment portfolio realized losses on the sale of securities in the amount of $345,405. The sum of $190,2!! was drawn from earlier reservation of profits to make up the necessary draw of 6% for current budget purposes. It is good to report that the Brice House mortgages of $25,000 and $15,000 respectively were paid in full during the year. A purchaser was found for the Glendale property. If the sale is consummated as anticipated, a loss will be taken but the net annual income to the College will be greatly increased. Development Julius Rosenberg, Director of Development, calls the year just ended as the year of the breakthrough for St. John's College in Annapolis. Town and gown relations were the best in many years, thanks largely to the work of the Friends of St. John's College and to the founding of the Caritas Society, its women's auxiliary. Various social functions were held involving College people and townspeople, the largest of which was an "Evening with Greer Garson" in May. Nearly 500 guests were attracted to the campus for the showing of two of Miss Garson's films and for the reception for her and her husband, Mr. E. E. Fogelson, former member of the Board. The gratitude of the College is extended to the many individuals in the Friends and in the Caritas Society who worked to make the various affairs so successful. As a matter of policy the College has now consolidated its publications program in a single quarterly, The College. Under the editorship of Laurence Berns, Tutor, and the managing editorship of Mary Jean Felter, Director of Public Information, The College combines articles and lectures with news from both campuses and with alumni notes. It is proving itself an effective vehicle to reach alumni, parents, and friends as well as more immediate members of the St. John's community. Meanwhile, an active program of news releases continues. St. John's re- �September ceived most favorable publicity from coast to coast this spring as a result of the mature and rational actions of its students. Gifts, grants and bequests to the Annapolis campus totaled $284,268 during the year, representing contributions from 1,231 donors. The largest amount was for current purposes: $25,000 from The Hodson Trust in Morristown, New Jersey; $8,700 from other foundations, $6,885 from business corporations, $4,045 from Board members, $2,465 from parents, $3,271 from friends, $26,140 from alumni, and $17,878 from Maryland business firms and corporations through the joint appeal of the Association of Independent Colleges in Maryland. Gifts for endowment purposes totaled $93,934, $47,046 of which represented matching funds from the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation. Restricted current gifts in the amount of $49,643 were received as well as gifts toward the Library totaling $29,576 and toward Harrison House totaling $16,732. On the Santa Fe campus the Boards of Associates in Santa Fe, Los Alamos, Albuquerque, and Denver continued to function helpfully in building good will and understanding of St. John's College in the Southwest. Local groups were encouraged to hold luncheon meetings and other gatherings on campus so that their members might become familiar with the College. An active program of news releases about the College events was pursued. It is apparent that word is reaching an increasing number of people, for the flow of visitors on campus steadily increases. As already noted, gifts and grants to the Santa Fe campus were sharply reduced from the total of the preceding year. The sum of $402,551 was received for general purposes and $71,173 for scholarships and other student financial aid, making a total of $473,724. Apart from cash contributions the College received many gifts in kind. Noteworthy among these was a gift of ten acres of land contiguous to College property and lying just north of Camino de Cruz Blanca. This generous contribution from Mr. and Mrs. LeRoy Manuel assures the College of adequate protection for its campus for many years to come. To these and to all donors to both campuses the College expresses its heartfelt gratitude. 1970 the raising of $5,000,000 for the Annapolis campus and $10,000,000 for the Santa Fe campus. Mrs. Duane L. Peterson, of Baltimore, Maryland, a devoted member of the Board of Visitors and Governors, has pledged one and a quarter million dollars over a period of years. This will cover the cost of constructing and furnishing the student center at Santa Fe, for which funds were borrowed from the Annapolis endowment fund seven years ago. Mrs. Peterson's commitment will therefore assure the repayment to Annapolis of most of the outstanding loan upon which the Santa Fe campus has been paying interest over the years. I am also pleased that the Board has taken action to name the building "The Peterson Student Center" in honor of both Mrs. Peterson and her late husband, Duane L. Peterson. This is a good omen for the future. * * * I was pleased to be selected by the Danforth Foundation as one of the recipients of its Short-Term Leave Grants for College and University Administrators. Mrs. Weigle and I appreciate tbe willingness of the Board to allow us a four-month leave of absence for this welcome period of study and refreshment. We hope to be away during the early months of 1971. As I conclude this, my twenty-second report, let me again express gratitude to all of those associated with the College-Board members, Tutors, Associates, Staff members, students, alumni, parents and friends. Your work for the College and your commitment to it account for whatever we have been able to achieve on the two campuses. Because of you the presidency of St. John's never ceases to be a deeply satisfying and challenging experience. RICHARD D. WEIGLE President September 8, 1970 275th Anniversary Next July will mark the 275th anniversary of the granting of a Royal Charter to King William's School in 1696. Faculty committees on both campuses are preparing for appropriate activities to celebrate this significant anniversary. It is planned as well to inaugurate a major fund-raising drive to be known as the 275th Anniversary Fund. The campaign will open in 1971 and continue for three years, the final years of the Decade of Development. It gives me a great deal of pleasure to announce the first major commitment in this program which envisions lOG �The College ST. JOHN'S Annapolis, Maryland BALANCE SHEETS, ASSETS Annapolis Santa Fe CURRENT FUNDS Unrestricted Cash Accounts Receivable Due from Other Funds . Due from SJC-Santa Fe. Prepaid Expenses Miscellaneous Bookstore Inventory .. Total Unrestricted ·Funds $ 54,648 4,947 $ 37,722 125 5,917 46,003 20,284 32,929 22,418 23,013 $ 120,455 $ 50,907 58,129 840 $ 64,381 3,226 Total Restricted Funds $ 109,876 $ 83,767 Total Current Funds $ 230,331 $ 211,318 $ 2,394 124,987 2,871 $ $ 130,252 $ 162,052 $ 231,210 7,283 129,460 1,461,000 49,792 870 Restricted Cash Investments Loans Receivable $ 127,551 16,160 Due from Other Funds . LoAN FuNDS ........ Cash National Defense Student Loans . Other Student Loans . Total Loan Funds 13,856 147,196 1,000 ENDOWMENT FUNDS . Cash .... Accounts and Notes Receivable . Faculty Home Loans Loan to SJC-Santa Fe . Due from Other Funds. Miscellaneous . Investments . Securities-at cost 6,616,080 49,755 234,000 Mortgages on Real Property. Real Property . . ............. Total Endowment Funds 155 2,985 $ 59,507 $ 8,779,450 $ 62,647 12,069 44,000 $ 15,623 PLANT FUNDS Cash Investments Notes Receivable Due from Other Funds Retirement of Indebtedness . Land and Campus Development Buildings and Improvements . Equipment and Furnishings Land and Buildings-Other . Library Books .. Total Plant Funds . $ 11,000 67,000 103,332 313,615 4,766,839 421,787 77,343 95,613 2,395 375,677 5,168,920 394,221 $ 5,997,282 FUNDS Due from Current Fund . Due from Plant Fund $5,872,152 ANNUITY $ Total Annuity Funds Total Funds lOH 21,241 193,064 $ 214,305 $15,137,315 $6,522,474 �September 1970 COLLEGE Santa Fe, New Mexico June 30, 1970 LIABILITIES AND CAPITAL Annapolis Santa Fe 3,664 51,984 52,187 $ 310,000 36,881 83,101 103,836 37,669 CURRENT FUNDS Unrestricted Notes Payable Accounts Payable Deferred Income . $ Due to Other Funds . Due to SJC Annapolis . Reserve for Future Operations Cumulative Fund Deficit 12,620 (443,936) $ 120,455 $ 127,551 ---- $ 109,876 $ 8),767 Total Restricted Funds $ 109,876 $ 83,767 Total Current Funds $ 230,331 $ 211,318 $ 130,252 $ 162,052 $ 130,252 $ 162,052 Total Unrestricted Funds Restricted Fund Balances LoAN FUNDS Fund Balances Total Loan Funds ENDOWMENT FUNDS $ 7,880,672 895,527 3,251 $ 62,647 $ 8,779,450 $ 62,647 $ 5,938,817 (21,535) $2,099,067 1,722,000 200,065 1,461,000 103,332 93,624 $ 5,997,282 $5,679,088 Annuity Funds . Due from Other Funds .. $ $ 214,305 193,064 Total Annuity Funds $ $ 407,369 Total Funds $15,137,315 $6,522,474 Principal-lnveshnents Reservation of Profits-Sale of Securities Unexpended Income Total Endowment Funds PLANT FUNDS Invested in Plant Federal Dormitory Bonds Due to Other Funds Notes Payable . 80,000 Retirement of Indebtedness Unexpended ... Totdl Plant Funds . ANNUITY FuNDS 10! �The College ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE Annapolis, Maryla-nd Santa Fe, New Mexico CONDENSED STATEMENT OF REVENUE AND EXPENDITURES Fiscal Year Ended June 30, 1970 Annapolis Santa Fe 686,393 444,747 91,667 115,850 10,443 $ 496,272 $ 1,349,100 $ 979,450 REVENUE Educational and General Tuition Endowment Income Gifts and Grants Scholarships Miscellaneous Total $ 3,099 473,724 6,355 AUXILIARY ENTERPRISES Bookstore Dining Hall Dormitories Total $ 45,760 164,072 143,429 $ $ 353,261 $ 270,281 $ OTHER NoN-EDucATIONAL INCOME Organized Student Activity . Total Revenue 27,061 131,774 111,446 13,974 12,428 $ 1,702,361 $1,276,133 312,194 691,213 16,974 279,131 $ 292,585 $ 1,299,512 $ 971,553 ExPENDITURES Educational and General Administrative and General . Instruction Student Activities Operation and Maintenance Total Auxiliary Enterprises Bookstore Dining Hall Dormitories Total $ $ 49,578 150,520 515,742 24,634 138,592 $ 28,085 98,947 121,474 ---200,099 $ 248,506 $ Student Financial Aid $ 192,294 $ 172,522 Other Expenditures $ 24,143 $ 114,933 Appropriations National Defense Student Loan Capital Outlay $ $ Total Total Expenditures .. Excess Revenue (Expenditures) lOJ $ 1,716,048 $ (13,687) 1,302 19,145 20,447 $1,527,961 $ (251,828) �September 1970 ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE Annapolis, Maryland PERMANENT ENDOWMENT FUNDS June 30, 1970 Gift of Donor Old Dominion Foundation Matching Gift Total Fund $1,989,953 150,215 $ 500,000 150,000 $2,489,953 300,215 $2,140,168 $ 650,000 $2,790,168 TUTORSHIP ENDOWMENTS Addison E. Mullikin, 1895 Arthur deTalma Valk, 1906 SCHOLARSHIP ENDOWMENTS Annapolis Self-Help George M. Austin Memorial, 1908 Chicago Regional Class of 1897 Class of 1898 Dr. Charles C. Cook Corporal George E. Cunif!, III, 1930 Faculty John T. Harr~on, 1907 Hillhouse High School, 1927 Richard H. Hodgson, 1906 Alfred Houston, 1906-Student Aid Houston Regional Jesse H. Jones and Mary Gibbs Jones Robert Edward and Margaret Larsh Jones Arthur E. Landers and Hilda Combs Landers Massachusetts Regional Philip A. Meyer II, 1938 Oklahoma Regional Thomas Farran, 1911 Pittsburgh Regional Reader's Digest Foundation Clifton H. Roehle Murray Joel Rosenberg Memorial Hazel Norris and J. Graham Shannahan Clarence J. Stryker Friedrich J. von Schwerdtner $ 15,000 25,000 3,070 8,672 87,933 13,705 $ 15,000 25,000 3,070 $ 30,000 50,000 6,140 8,672 87,933 13,705 270 25,483 45,050 16,034 300,500 45,287 1,000 72,000 28,333 2,000 45,370 28,362 52,000 6,165 1,120 12,500 7,055 2,726 3,070 7,056 1,552 135 2,359 20,025 7,367 150,250 2,500 500 36,000 $ 575,519 STUDENT LOAN FUND ENDOWMENTS George Friedland John David Pyle, 1962-Memoria1 135 23,124 25,025 8,667 150,250 42,787 500 36,000 28,333 2,000 22,685 19,362 26,000 6,165 560 12,500 7,055 2,726 3,070 3,643 1,552 $ 323,864 $ 899,383 22,685 9,000 26,000 560 3,413 25,035 4,569 $ 20,000 1,470 $ 45,035 6,039 $ ALUMNI MEMORIAL ENDOWMENTS Granville Q. Adams, 1929 Charles Edwards Athey, 1931 William C. Baxter, 1923 Drew H. Beatty, 1903 Dr. William Brewer, 1823 Frederick W, Brune, 1874 Benjamin Duvall Chambers, 1905 Henry M. Cooper, Jr., 1934 Walter I. Dawkins, 1880 Robert F. Duer, Jr., 1921 In Honor of: Dr. Philip Edwards, 1898 Joseph W. Fastner, Jr., 1960 Allen Lester Fowler, 1915 Edna Gable and Roscoe E. Grove, 1910 Charles W. Hass, 1927 Dr. Amos F. Hutchins, 1906 Clarence T. Johnson, 1909 $ 29,604 $ 21,470 $ 51,074 $ 1,100 5,825 25 300 125 854 2,638 1,000 58,683 3,265 1,135 2,000 500 16,545 40 658 100 $ $ 1,100 5,825 25 500 250 1,361 2,638 2,000 58,683 3,600 2,!20 2,000 1,000 16,545 40 1,291 100 200 125 507 1,000 335 985 500 633 lOK �The College 100 18,357 200 200 5,140 23,166 !,020 5,000 325 432 550 12,219 100 5,000 10,000 4,933 !,000 !,108 850 402 100 3,270 500 28,633 3,000 2,500 125 625 2,000 Clifford L. Johnson, 1911 Helen Barnes Jones and Robert 0. Jones, 1916 Jonathan D. Korshin, 1966 (Library) Oliver M. Korshin, 1963 (Library) Dr. W. Oscar LaMotte, 1902 J. H. E. Legg, 1921 William Lentz, 1912 Leola Burnette and Thomas Watkins Ligon, 1916 CoL Harrison McAlpine, 1909 James McClintock, 1965 Robert F. Maddox, 1876 William L. Mayo, 1899 Ridgley P. Melvin, 1899 WilliamS. Morsell, 1922 (Athletic Fund) John Mullan, 1847 Walter C. Mylander, Jr., 1932 H. Keith Neville, 1905 Dr. John 0. Neustadt, 1939 Blanchard Randall, 1874 Susan Irene Roberts, 1966 Leroy T. Rohrer, 1903 Harrison Sasscer, 1944 C. H. Schoff, 1889 Henry F. Sturdy, 1906 Rev. Enoch H. Thompson, 1895 John T. Tucker, 1914 Dr. RobertS. G. Welch, 1913 Dr. Willis H. White, 1922 Amos W. W. Woodcock Fund, 1903 125 625 1,000 100 25,920 200 200 5,140 23,166 2,040 5,000 650 432 550 12,219 200 10,000 20,000 4,933 2,000 1,108 1,180 402 200 3,270 1,000 28,633 6,000 2,500 250 1,250 3,000 7,563 1,020 325 !00 5,000 10,000 1,000 330 !00 500 3,000 $ 225,648 OTHER ENDOWMENTS Hertha S. and Jesse L. Adams Concert Fund Alumni Memorial Book Fund Philo Sherman Bennett Prize Fund Benwood Foundation Library Fund George A. Bingley Memorial Fund Scott Buchanan Memorial Fund Helen Cropsey Davidson and George Davidson, Jr. Fund for Tomorrow Lectureship Floyd Hayden Prize Fund Mary Safford Hoogewerff Memorial Library Fund Library Fund Monterey Mackey Memorial Fund Emily Boyce Mackubin Ellen C. Murphy Memorial Library Fund Henry H. and Cora Dodson Sasscer Newspaper Fund Adolph W. Schmidt Fund Mrs. Blair T. Scott Memorial Prize Fund Kathryn Mylroie Stevens Memorial Prize Fund Elma R. and Charles D. Todd Memorial Library Fund Clara B. Weigle Memorial Fund Daniel E. and Jessie N. Weigle Memorial Jack Wilen Foundation Library Fund in memory of Murray Joel Rosenberg Victor Zuckerkandl Memorial .Fund Alumni Endowment General Endowment $ 34,973 $ 260,621 60,000 355 308 25,000 14,897 5,770 20,025 3,000 77 31,683 560 200 75,192 !,500 !,500 10,569 518 !,250 19,500 !,196 2,500 $ 60,000 $ 120,000 355 308 50,000 14,897 5,770 20,025 6,000 102 3!,683 960 200 75,192 3,000 1,500 10,569 518 1,250 39,000 1,196 2,500 $ 1,000 19,321 205,480 522,429 $1,023,830 Total Endowment Principal IOL 3,000 25 400 1,500 19,500 186,309 1,000 19,321 391,789 522,429 $ 295,734 $1,319,564 $2,559,858 PERMANENT ENDOWMENT FUNDS Old Dominion Foundation Grants Not Applied to Named Funds Reservation of Profits, Sale of Securities 25,000 $2,559,858 $ 895,527 $4,890,296 $ 895,527 $2,885,899 $8,776,195 �September 1970 crying; in short, for behavior which is not chosen. A case of special interest is that of slips of the tongue, for which Freud provides his ingenious causal explanations in terms of an hypothesized unconscious mind.6 Now, to put my argument about human freedom into There is a distinction between a "reason" for an d a " cause " of an ac t'wn ... some other expression to distinguish the relative freedoms of the three drinkers. Our word "free" has lost Its use in ordinary language, that is, it has lost the meaning it had. If a philosopher like Kant elmms to have a meaningful use of the word "free" in his theoretical system, then the burden of proof is on him. And one should always be suspicious of the ?'eanmg of words used in special or technical ways. It lS not easy to giVe words a clear meaning. In these last few remarks, I have shifted from the style of Aristotle to the style of the s_o-called _"ordinary language" philosophy initiated by Wrttgenstem. Yet I think the two are congenial, despite the recent charge from this platform that the ordinary language philosophers are misologists or haters of reason. I myself would say that they are haters only of abstract theories which generate what they regard as pseudo-problems. They are agamst the kind of system building in philosophy which prevailed from Descartes through Hegel, but they are for looking closely at the way people talk and the way people behave. I have argued that this is the style of Anstotle," and ':' fact many of the ordinary language philosophers see Anstotle as a man from whom they can learn. I will pursue this digression a bit further. 'I11ere is a well known distinction in contemporary philosophy which I think makes essentially the point I have found in Aristotle1 namely a distinction between a "reason" for a certain action and a "cause71 of an action. For example~ we can ask why Socrates is heading for the market place, why he left the party early, and so on. We expect to be told the answer in terms of reasons why he drd what he did. The search for causal explanations of human behavior arises only, and this is the important point, arises only where the explanation in terms of reasons breaks down. For .example, if we know that Socrates loves parhes and never chooses to leave a party early, we might conjecture that he was caused to leave by a sudden illness, by an irrepressible hatred for someone who just entered the room, or by some other such cause over which he had no control. Explanation in terms of causes is also apl'ropnate for such things as facial twitches, pains, laughmg and terms of the distinction between "reasons" and "causes": To think of all human actions as not free is to think of them all as if they were caused. It is to think of an action done for carefully considered and good reasons as being on the same level with a facial twitch or an outburst of crying. Why should all human actions be assimilated to such a single model? Why should one seek such theoretical simplicity at the cost of ignoring the variety and complexity of human behavior? L et us return now to Carl Rogers. I began this dis- cussion of freedom and deterrriinism with an account of a symposium between Carl Rogers and B. F. Skinner. Both men felt that predictions and explanations of human behavior were hostile to human freedom. I argued that both accepted an essentiall~ K~ntian ~oncep­ tion of freedom as absolute spontaneity m which the free human act has no antecedents in preceding space-time. Skinner looked forward to increasing predictability and control of human behavior. As for human freedom, he regarded it as an illusion. Rogers, on the other hand, wanted to assert the existence of free human choice as the most important aspect of being a person, but he could see no way to do this except as an absolute paradox. He wanted to assert that men are free and yet he saw that their behavior could be predicted and explained, and he saw no way to reconcile predictability and freedom. In his later book, On Becoming a Person, Rogers describes what he sees as a partial solution to the problem of free will and determinism (p. 193). This partial solution comes from Rogers' conception of a "fully functioning person,': one who is living his life well. When a fully functioning person chooses to act in a certain way, he takes account of everything in his present situation and in his past experience which is relevant to his action. He is to be contrasted with what Rogers calls the "defensively organized" person 1 who shuts out elements of his own past and of the situation around him. He cannot face certain aspects of himself or of his world. Thus he denies or distorts some of the data relevant to his actions. Now the significant point of this contrast for the problem of free will and determinism is as follows: one could say that the person who chooses by taking account of all relevant data is in a sense ''determined" by those data 1 and yet Rogers claims, on the basis of his clinical work, that such a person "experiences the most complete and o For an excellent discussion of the distinction between causes and reasons, see R. S. Peters, Tile Concept of Motivation, London, 1958, Chapter l. Peters is both a psychologist and a philosopher influenced by the Wittgenstein school. See also his reference to Hobbes, p. 1, and to Aristotle, p. 157. 11 �The College absolute freedom." The defensively organized person, on the other hand, who shuts out some of the relevant data and is therefore not determined by them, is "not free to make an effective choice." Thus Rogers concludes that where there is more determinism, there is, surprisingly, more freedom, and where there is less determinism, there is less freedom. Rogers himself does not follow out the implications of this discovery. In this very passage he still speaks of freedom as "spontaneity" (p. 193), and at the end of On Becoming a Person, where he returns again to discuss his earlier symposium with Skinner, he repeats in practically the same language as before that the problem of free will and determinism presents an absolute paradox (p. 400). Despite the force of his own experience and despite his efforts to break out, Rogers is still in the Kantian box. But what he is moving towards, I think, is a distinction among kinds of determinism. Asked whether free will is incompatible with determinism, one must first ask, "What kind of determinism?" Is it determinism by careful thought which takes account of all the factors in a situation? With Rogers, I want to say that such determinism also constitutes the freest human action of all. And yet, unlike Rogers, I do not feel a paradox here because I do not think of freedom as spontaneity, as implying complete lack of relation to previous events in space-time. Instead I think of free action simply as action which is intelligently chosen, and where the choice is not hampered by vicious habits. I could stop here. I have given a solution to the problem of free will and dterminism which satisfies me and which I think would have satisfied Aristotle had he posed the problem for himself. That is, I have argued that the problem of free will and determinism is essentially a pseudo-problem, resting on an inadequate conception of freedom and a failure to distinguish among kinds of determinism. And yet what I have said is perhaps not adequate to satisfy Rogers or to satisfy most of you. I want therefore to extend Aristotle's analysis one step further. In the discussion of choice, Aristotle remarks in passing that children and animals are not capable of choice ( 1111 b 8). In the discussion of weakness of will he remarks that animals are not capable of weakness of will. The reason he gives is that animals cannot grasp universals, but only particulars (1147b 5). The greatest of the Aristotelian commentators, Thomas Aquinas, develops these remarks into an argument for the freedom of the human will. What does it mean to "grasp a universal"? It means to grasp some particular thing not merely in terms of its particular sensory qualities but as falling in some larger class where the essential attribute of the class must be understood by an act of mind. It cannot be perceived by the senses. I can perhaps make the point clear by example. 7 The cxamp1c is actually drawn from William James, Principles of Psychology, New York, 1904, Vol. II, pp. 349-350. 7 12 Consider a man who regularly takes his dog fishing with him. He arrives at his boat to find that he has forgotten the sponge which he always uses to bail out the boat. Since he does not wish to return to the house for the sponge, he makes motions of bailing out the boat while saying to the dog, "Sponge. Sponge. Go fetch the sponge." The dog goes back to the house and returns with the sponge. Is this a case of grasping a universal? No. The dog merely associates some particular thing, a sponge, with a par- ticular act, bailing out the boat. But, if the dog had not been able to find the sponge, and had returned instead with a bucket, then he would have grasped a universal. The point is that he would have had to abstract from the particular, the sponge, to the universal class under which it belonged, namely, things useful for getting water out of a boat. Most men could easily make this abstraction. Few, if any, animals could. N ow, what are the implications for human freedom of the capacity to grasp universals? When a man is considering a· possible action, he considers it not merely as a particular, as something he could do which is pleasant or painful. He sees it as a means to some end, as one porticubr way of achieving that end. Animals too are capable of selecting means to ends, but not in the same way. Since an animal, at least for the most part, grasps only particulars, he cannot compare the particulars with each other to decide which best serves the universal end. He cannot compare a sponge and a bucket and decide which is the best instrument for bailing out a boat. He can only associate in his memory the particular, sponge, or the particular, bucket, with the particular act of bailing out the boat. To compare them he would have to grasp the non-sensory universal under which both fall, something useful for bailing out the boat. Since he cannot do this, he cannot in any meaningful sense choose between bucket and sponge. The end of bailing out the boat is itself a means to a further end, going fishing. This can in turn be a means to a still further end, obtaining food, or it can be an end in itself, something done for its own sake. Ultimately, aeording to St. Thomas, the end for which we do things is the most universal category of all, namely, the good. In this life, he argues, man is never presented with any- thing which is completely and perfectly good in every way. The activity of fishing, for example, attractive as it is in some respects, takes time, costs money, involves the risk of getting wet, and so on. Presented with the possibility of fishing, we can always consider it under those aspects under which it is not good, under which it does not attract us. Therefore we are always capable of rejecting it. Our minds are capable of choosing something else which better approximates the universal good. 8 8 It is difficult to give a good single reference for St. 111omas' doctrine of free action. Cf. Summa Tbeologica I, Qq's 82-3; Ia !Iae, Qq's 6-17; De Veritate, Q. 24. �September 1970 This concludes my argument for the freedom of the will. Let me review what I have said by considering the various senses which have been given to the word "free." T he first sense of "freedom" is total and complete spontaneity, a complete lack of relation to anything prior in space-time. I showed the paradox to whrch this concept of freedom gives rise and traced its origin to Kant. The second sense of "freedom" is lack of external constraint. This is the sense in which Hobbes defined "freedom," and it 1nakes no distinction between the way in which men are free and animals are free, or even water flowing down a hill is free. The third sense of "freedom" is that actions are "ours" or "in our power" in the sense that we can deliberate among alternatives a-nd choose what we will d~, ~nd in the sense that our choices themselves are not lrmrted by inadequate understanding or by vicior<s habits. "Freedom" in !:his sense is compatible with the fact that our actions and even our choices are completely predictable. This is the sense of freedom I found in Aristotle. A fourth sense of freedom, suggested by St. Thomas' analysis, accepts the account of freedom as dependent on choice, a choice guided by reason and unobstructed by vice. But it shies away from accepting complete predictability as compatible with freedom. It holds out for the idea that given any possible course of actron, a human being could always have chosen differently. Thus I characterize this fourth sense of "freedom" as reqmnng that a person "could have done otherwise." This. is part of what is involved in the concept of spontaneity, and in fact it may even be the essential point that Kant and others want to 1naintain, that a man's behavior is not completely determined by his situation and his past life, that he could always have done other':'rse than he does. If so, this fourth sense of freedom satisfies the demand for freedom as spontaneity, but does not go to the extreme of saying that a free human act has no relation to anything prior to it in space-time. Whel:her or not I ought to argue for an element of spontaneity in human behavior, I do not know. As I have said before, I am inclined to think that complete predictability is compatible with complete freedo~ and that the;e . real!y IS no conflict between them, provided that one drstmgmshcs among ki-nds of predictability. Predicting that Socrates will refuse to cooperate in the arrest of an innocent man is a totally different thing from predicting which way a rat will run in a maze. I wish to close with a few remarks. about the practical consequences of this discussion of free~om. In a w~y the practical consequences are unimpressive. There IS no theory which can tell us exactly what we ought to do in the extremely varied and complex circumstances of our lives. The ultimate particular action must be grasped by an act of perception; it cannot be deduced from any rules. And yet there are certain general prmcrples whrch follow from a conception of freedom like the one I have sketched. For one thing I have tried to remove a pa~adox _which in my opinion gets i-n the way when one rs trymg to decide what to do. I mean the belref that predrctabrlrty and freedom are incompatible with one another. This belief is, I think, at least partly responsible for the various phenomena of irrationality which I mentioned at the beginning of this lecture, for Tolstoy's. statement that a life of reason is hostile to a truly meamngful hfe, for Mrss Barnes' feeling that being able to jump off a cliff is an important and valuable aspect of human life, and so. on. To remove the paradox IS not to tell a person precrsely how to act, but it does free him to use his reason in deciding what to do. It frees him from the feeling that the use of his reason restricts and limits his freedom, that his action must be absolutely spontaneous if it is to be free at all. A s a second practical consequence, consider the following. Suppose we a"e trying to influence someone else's actions. Do we use the techmques of modern advertising, which is content to move people with flashy pictures, with glamour, with subliminal devices of which they are not even aware? Or do we proceed wrth arguments, with persuasion, with reasons wluch respect the capacity of the person to understand the facts of a situation and to himself make an intelligent choice? The expert psychologist Skinner is content to blur this distinction. He is content with any kind of what he calls "reinforcers" of human action, as long as they get a person to behave in a certain way (Seep. 124 of the debate cited in the first paragraph of this article). In fact even some of our political leaders seem to be content to motivate the citizens of a supposedly free country by techniques which have more and more of the sti~k of modern advertising and less and less of l:he clean arr of ratronal discourse. But one who understands and values human freedom will not allow himself to use such techniques. How will he proceed? I have tried to say. in general, but I cannot say in detail, and certamly not m a few words. I can say, however, that reflecting on Aristotle's Ethics or Shakespeare's plays or Tolstoy's novels will help. For the answer is at once as obvious and as difficult as bringing up one's children, as obvious and as difficult as education, as obvious and as difficult as achieving personal freedom for oneself. Thomas J. Slakey is a graduate of St. Mary's Colleg.e, ~alifornia. He received an M.A. degree in philosophy from the Umye~site. Laval, Quebec, and a Ph.D. degree in philosophy from <;o~ne11 UmYemty. He became a Tutor at St. John's College in Annapolis m 1959 and mored to Santa Fe when the College opened there in 1964. He has lectured on the concept of "form" in Plato and Aristotle, ~nd o~ St. P~ul's Epistle to the Romaus, and has published in The PhllosophJCal Re\'ICW. 13 �The College Marion E. Warren RICHARD ScoFIELD 1898-1970 Richard Scofield, one of St. John's' greatest teachers, died Thursday, July 16th, at The Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. For seven years he had been afllicted with cancer but had gallantly and cheerfully surmounted both pain and discomfort to continue his tutorial duties at the College. His luminous intelligence, his learning, his gentle· ness, his humor, his love of excellence, and his sure knowledge of when to speak and when to be encouragingly silent-these have made him as nearly ideal a Tutor as the College is likely ever to have. In all these years nothing has been more trusted by students and colleagues alike than his patience, his modesty, his calm perseverance, his precise and subtle understanding, and his unswerving rectitude; nothing has been more admired than his urbanity and elegance, and, above all, his capacity for warm friendship. In his company, other persons have felt themselves somehow at their best. 14 �September 1970 FRoM The Habit of Literature The College, December 1969 " ... I have come increasingly to see that intellectual we think or feel, though without thought and feel- virtue in general, which is the goal of a liberal arts ing, what we do had better for the most part be left college, requires, as a condition for its existence, that undone .... sentimental and moral education without which we are barbarians, not fully human . . . poverty and "Literature is not a substitute for action. It is an vulgarity of feeling, more than stupidity, put humane invitation, in the midst of action, to withdraw from letters beyond the mind's reach . ... it for a moment and to look at it, but as essence and as possibility rather than as existence. In these mo- "Love without knowledge is blind; there is no ments, as if out of time, there are no decisions that better way to avoid the excesses of ignorant and have to be made. 'The falcon hood of morality' need fanatical love than patient study of the causes and not be worn though the discourse itself were moral. consequences of choices. But without love, power Literature makes for serenity and for confidence, not and knowledge are worthless and dangerous ... for the passionlessness of philosophy, not for the peace of religion. It may point beyond itself to super- "It is not necessary to choose the life of action as human and to supernatural goods; it does not attain against the life of thought, society as against con- to them. Its consolation arises out of life and is for templation. These are arbitrary and artificial alterna- the benefit and use of life. It returns you to action, tives. The life of good will embraces them all. _And ready, restored. The habit of literature is the college's the measure of good will is what we do, not what special and best gift to you . ..." �NE~lS ON THE CAMPUSES GRADUATE INSTITUTE AWARDS 28 M.A. DEGREES The Graduate Institute in Liberal Education completed its fourth successful summer at St. John's in Santa Fe, August 14th, with the awarding of M.A. degrees to 28 candidates. The commencement address was given by Dr. Benjamin Henley, acting superintendent of schools in Washington, D. C. Several of the graduates are teachers in his district. Receiving degrees were students from the following areas: Maryland - Baltimore, Grace P. Bennett, Walter Dudley, William Eldridge, Joseph Hines, and Daniel Mowrer. Washington, D. C.-Isaac Block, Marjorie Harper, Otto Jordan, Joyce Ann Matthews, Helen Scott, Governor Stokes, and Malcolm Tillett. New Mexico - Santa Fe, Rosalie Bindel, Sarah Connelly, Wendy Gray, LaVera Loyd, Correen Najjar, Sandra Purrington, and Edwin Reel; Albuquerque, Velma McConnell; Alameda, Simmie Gibson; Cuba, Jacob Martinez. Others-James H. Childers, Colby, Kansas; William Douglas, Williamsburg, Virginia; Muriel McCown, Pueblo, Colorado; Sara Macina, Midland, Texas; Fred Schwendimann, Richardson, Texas, and Andrew Treacy, Patchogue, New York. The Graduate Institute was opened in 1967 to provide advanced training in the liberal arts for school teachers and other interested college graduates. There were twelve graduates last year at the first awarding of degrees. There were a total of 123 students enrolled this past summer from eighteen states and the District of Columbia. Most of the Tutors come from the St. John's faculties in Annapolis and Santa Fe. James P. Shannon of Santa Fe was the director. 16 The four sections of the curriculum are "Literature," "Philosophy and Theology," "Politics and Society," and "Mathematics and Natural Science." One may receive a degree on completion of all four sections of the program, or on completion of three s~c­ tions if one has nine graduate credits to transfer from another college or univerisity. Each eight-week section includes a tutorial, a seminar and a preceptorial which includes the writing of a paper. Readings are generally from the St. John's seminar lists of great books. The school teachers who participate say they learn a great deal about teaching methods simply by participating in the discussions and by observing how the Tutors usc the art of questioning and listening to develop a student's thinking and learning abilities. They testify the St. John's methods can be applied at all levels from first grade through high school. Discussing what they enjoy about the Graduate Institute, they say: "The program is valuable to adults in a period of transition in their vocational lives." "Most universities and colleges have numbers. Here you remain a person." "It is a fantastic experience to have the freedom to express your ideas, to participate." <IYou can relate to other people as you've never done before; it is almost impossible to withdraw from others in the community." ~~The program emphasizes the dignity of man, that he's more than a biological being" (From a medical student). Tutors this year included Robert Bunker, Tiwmas Harris, DaViG-Jones, Harvey Mead, Michael Meehan, Michael Ossorgin, John Steadman, and Ralph Swentzell of Santa Fe; Joseph Cohen, Geoffrey Comber, George Doskow, Nicholas Maistrellis, Benjamin Milner, Thomas Simpson, and J. Winfree Smith of Annapolis; Lowell Edmunds, of Cambridge, Massachusetts, and Mrs. Chaninah Maschler of Forest Hills, New York. James P. Shannon, Benjamin J. Henley, and Richard D. We~gle (left to right) are.show~ in .front of an Indian weaving in the Santa Fe student center followmg the Graduate Inshtute m Liberal Education commencement, which was addressed by Mr. Henley. �September 1970 PLAYWRIGHT IN RESIDENCE AND SEVEN NEW TUTORS JOIN ANNAPOLIS FACULTY This fall !\Ivin Aronson became the playwright ;,-, ::esidence at St. John's College in Annapolis, and Steven B. Crockett, William D. DeHart, Robert Arthur Licht, Brian Patrick McGuire, Alfred Mallin, William W. O'Grady, Jr., and Jonathan B. Skinner became members of the faculty. Mr. Aronson attended St. John's College from 1948 to 1950 and Columbia University from 1950 to 1951. He is the author of two off· Broadway plays, Nighthawks and The Pocket Watch (725 performances). He was an assistant to Alan Jay Lerner for three years, and actor and sound technician at Circle-in-the-Square for three productions. Mr. Crockett received the A.B. degree in 1965 from Earlham College where he was also elected to Phi Beta Kappa. In 1967 he was awarded the A.M. degree from The University of Chicago where he was a Woodrow Wilson Fellow and a Ford Foundation Fellow. He is currently a doctoral candidate at the University. Dming 1969 he was an instructor in the lmmanities at the Central YMCA Community College in Chicago and an advisor to undergraduate students on the Committee on General Studies in the Humanities at the University. Mr. DeHart graduated from Allegheny College with a B.S. degree in 1955 and was certified to teach by Clarion State College in 1959. The University of Rochester granted him a Ph.D. degree in 1965. After a year as a teaching fellow in the Department of Physiology at the University of Michigan Medical School, he joined the Department of Physiology at the University of Rochester Medical School as a graduate physiological trainee. From 1965 to 1966 he was Senior Neurophysiologist at Smith, Kline, & French in Philadelphia, and from 1966 to 1970 he was Assistant Professor in the Department of Physiology of the Medical College of Virginia. He is a member of the New York and Virginia Academies of NEW CATALOGUE POLICY Science1 the American Association for When the 1970-72 College catalogue the Advancement of Science, the International Union of Physiological is published this month, there will not be a general mailing to alumni. Sciences 1 and Sigma Xi. There has always been some question Mr. Licht received a B.A. degree about alumni needing or even wanting from St. John's College in 1965 and an M.A. degree in 1967 from the Penn- each issue as it appears. Each copy sylvania State University where he is costs $.60. Then, too, the copies rea doctoral candidate in philosophy. At quired for one alumni mailing would the University he was a graduate as- supply the needs of the Annapolis Adsistant and a National Defense Edu- missions Office for an entire year. cation Act Fellow. He was a lecturer Hence, the expense of a general mailin the Department of Philosophy at ing to alumni does not seem to be Bucknell Univ.ersity from 1969 to 1970. warranted. Alumni who are serving as AdMr. McGuire received his B.A. demissions Volunteers will each receive gree from the University of California at Berkeley in 1968 and is a doctoral a copy of the catalogue. Other alumni candidate in history at Oxford Uni- can receive them by sending a request versity. From 1968 to 1970 he was a to the Publicity Office, St. John's Fulbright Scholar in Balliol College at College, Annapolis, Maryland 21404. The new catalogue will again contain Oxford University. He is married to the former Ann Kirstin Pedersen of the site plans for the two campuses as well as new material on finaneial Copenhagen. Mr. Mallin is a 1965 graduate of aid and admissions. Western Illinois University. From 1966 to 1969 he was a National De- PRESIDENT WEIGLE REPLIES TO fense Education Act Fellow at the Uni- PRESIDENTIAL COMMISSION versity of Pennsylvania where he reON CAMPUS UNREST ceived an M.A. degree in 1967. He was President Richard D. Weigle of St. a Richard M. Weaver Fellow from 1969 to 1970 at the University of Penn- John's College has cited general student sylvania where he is a doctoral candi- dissatisfaction with their education as date in philosophy. a basic cause of campus unrest in Mr. O'Grady graduated summa cum America. laude from the University of Notre The computerized approach to eduDame in 1966. He received the M.A. cation has led to discontent and disdegree in 1966 and the Ph.D. degree illusionment among students, President in 1970 from the University of Chicago Weigle said in reply to a questionnaire where he was a Woodrow Wilson from William W. Scranton, chairman Fellow, a Danforth Fellow, and a Uni- of the President's Commission on versity of Chicago Humanities Fellow. Campus Unrest. Students, Mr. Weigle said, were beFollowing graduation from Carleton College in 1963 with a B.A. degree, ing short-changed in their education beMr. Skinner received an M.A. degree cause of fragmentation of learning, from the University of Michigan in neglect of undergraduate teaching, lack 1964. After two years as an instructor of ''real dialogue," and failure of instiin mathematics at Hope College he tutions to instill in their students "a was a teaching assistant, an instructor sense of history." He credited the lack in mathematics, and a lecturer at the of violence at St. John's to its traUniversity of Massachusetts where he ditional liberal arts curriculum, emphawas a doctoral candidate. W11ile at the sis on learning through discussion, and University of Michigan he was a the personal involvement of each Woodrow Wilson Fellow. In addition student in his education. he is a member of Pi Mu Epsilon and "The sheer force of numbers, parPhi Kappa Phi. ticularly in the state-supported insti- 17 �The College tutions, results in a computerized oper~ ation, which the individual student resents and finds dehumanizing," the President noted. "Compartmentalization of knowledge through, and even within, departments has fragmented faculties and student bodies, so that true community of learning is difficult if not impossible to achieve," he added. SANTA FE RECEIVES FoRD FOUNDATION GRANT The Ford Foundation has approved a grant of $150,000 for St. John's College in Santa Fe to be used at the President's discretion. Tire grant of $50,000 annually for three years will be used in a variety of ways to strengthen the overall academic program. President Weigle said that several projects were being considered. One possibility would be to create a toplevel committee of St. John's Tutors to work with academic specialists in studying certain subject matter fields to discover whether they might be included in the St. John's curriculum. The President cited the library and lecture programs as other areas in which portions of the grant might be used to improve the overall development of the College at Santa Fe. Funds also are needed to provide more frequent interchange of faculty members between the two campuses. FEBRUARY FRESHMEN ATTEND SUMMER CLASSES IN ANNAPOLIS Twenty students who matriculated on the Annapolis campus in February concluded their freshman year during the summer. They attended seminars led by Tutors Douglas Allanbrook, Bryce Jacobsen, William Pitt, John Sarkissian, Robert L. Spaeth, Robert 'Villiamson, and Elliott Zuckerman. The summer classes began on Mon~ day, June 15th, and continued through Friday, August 21st. The twenty freshmen began their sophomore year with the regular class in Septemher. 18 J, Burchenal Ault VICE PRESIDENT APPOINTED IN SANTA FE J. Burchenal Ault of Oyster Bay, New York, has been appointed Vice President of St. John's College in Santa Fe. President Richard D. Weigle said the College's Board of Visitors and Governors approved the appointment which was effective September 1st. Mr. Ault is responsible for administrative supervision of the Santa Fe campus except for academic matters and student welfare, which remain the province of the Dean. He will represent St. John's in Santa Fe in the absence of the President and he will be responsible for the development, public relations, and fnnd-raising programs of the College. Mr. Ault, who has a B.A. degree in English literature from Yale University, has had extensive business executive experience in New Yark. He was President of Burlington Industrial Fabrics Company for six years. From 1964 to 1969 he was Vice President, Treasurer, President, Director and Chairman of the Executive Committee of Radiation Research Corporation in Westbury, New York. He presently is a director of two businesses. Mr. Ault has been active in educational and civic affairs in the East. He is a member of the Alumni Board at Yale University and Chairman of the Alumni Fund at Phillips Academy, Andover, Massachusetts. He is a Trustee of Hofstra University, St. Paul's College, Chatham Hall, and the Foundation for Education of the Episcopal Diocese of Long Island. He is President of the Pro Arte Symphony Orchestra Association of Hempstead, New York, and a Trustee of the Goldovsky Opera Institute. He is a former Mayor, Trustee and Chairman of the Planning Board of the Village of Upper Brookville, Long Island. He serv.ed in the U. S. Marine Corps in Korea and held the rank of Cf\ptain when released from active duty. The 44 year-old executive is married and has five children. His father, Bromwell Ault, is a former chairman of the St. John's Board of Visit<JrS and Governors. NEW TuTORS AT SANTA FE Three Tutors and two interns joined the Santa Fe faculty this fall. A former Tutor, Henry N. Larom, rejoined the faculty after a two-year leave of absence. The new Tutors are John S. Chamberlin, Frank K. Flinn, and Edward H. Porcella. The interns are Mrs. Toni Drew and Paul D. Mannick. Tutors Dean R. Haggard and Charles G. Bell are on leaves of absence. Mr. Chamberlin received his B.A. degree in English from Haverford College in 1964, his M.A. degree in Medieval Studies from the University of Toronto in 1966, and his Ph.D. degree in Medieval Studies from Toronto in 1970. He has lectured on Old English, Chaucer, and Forms of English Literature, and has served as archivist at the Centre for Medieval Studies of the University of Toronto. He was elected to Phi Beta Kappa and received two Woodrow Wilson Fellowships. Mr. Flinn received his A.B. degree from Quincy College, Illinois, in 1962, was graduated magna cum laude from Harvard Divinity School (B.D.) in 1966, studied at the University of �September Heidelberg as a Fulbright Fellow in 1966-67, and did graduate study in Near Eastern Languages and Literatures at Harvard ( 1967-68) and the University of Pennsylvania ( 1968-69). He served as Assistant Professor at La Salle College Graduate School of Religion Philadelphia, 1969-70; Instructor at Boston College, 1967-68; and Lecturer at Newton College of the Sacred Heart 1965-66. ' Mr. Porcella has a B.A. degree from St. Mary's College and an M.A. degree from the University of California at San Diego, where he was a doctoral candidate. He has been an Instructor in philosophy at the University of San Diego College for Men from 1969 to 1970, Teaching Assistant in humanities at the University of California, 1965-70, and Lecturer in literature and theology at St. Mary's, 1967-68. Mr. Larom was an education director for the Peace Corps in Ethiopia and Elementary Language Arts Director for the State of New Mexico during his leave of absence. He taught at St. John's in 1967-68. He received his B.A. degree from the University of Montana and his master's degree from Idaho State University. He taught in the Nokuru Secondary School in Kenya, East Africa, in 1963-65 under sponsorship of Teachers College, Columbia University. Mrs. Drew received her B.A. degree from St. John's in Santa Fe this year. Mr. Mannick compl€ted his freshman and sophomore years at St. John's in Santa Fe. He received his B.A. degree in Comparative Literature and Philosophy from California State College at Long Beach this spring. NEIDORF APPOINTED DIRECTOR OF GRADUATE INSTITUTE IN LIBERAL EDUCATION The Board of Visitors and Governors has approved the appointment of Robert A. Neidorf to succeed James P. Shannon as Director of the summer Graduate Institute in Liberal Education. Mr. Shannon has resigned as Vice President of St. John's College in Santa Fe and Director of the Insti- 1970 year by one of the six recognized regional U. S. accrediting associations. St. John's in Santa Fe was accredited independently last year by the North Central Association of Colleges and Secondary Schools. CAMPUS NoTES Robert A. Neidorf tute to enroll in the School of Law of the University of New Mexico. Mr. Neidorf has been a Tutor in both Annapolis and Santa Fe and in the Graduate Institute as well. He is a member of the Instruction Committee, and will continue to serve as a Tutor in the College. Mr. Neidorf received his B.A. and M.A. degrees from the University of Chicago and his Ph.D. degree from Yale University. He served as Associate Professor of Philosophy at the State University of New York at Binghamton and was an Instructor and Assistant Professor of Philosophy at Bucknell University. SANTA FE RECEIVES FRoM FouNDATION $5,000 St. John's College in Santa Fe has received a $5,000 grant from C.I.T. Foundation of New York. To qualify for the grant, St. John's had to raise an equivalent sum through donations from local business organizations and funds. The check was presented to Santa Fe's treasurer, Kirk C. Tuttle, by Donald George, regional representative for C.I.T.'s Tuition Plan, Inc. '1 'he Foundation's annual awards go to privately supported, four-year nonspecialized liberal arts colleges and universities that were accredited or had accreditation restored in the previous Charles T. Elzey, Annapolis treasurer, was elected president of the Annapolis Fine Arts Festival Board for 1970-1971. He recently served as treasurer of the 1970 Fine Arts Festival. The College was one of the focal points of the June festivities with opening ceremonies in the Francis Scott Key Memorial Hall, poetry readings in McDowell Hall, art and sculpture exhibits in Iglehart, and an outdoor cafe. James E. Grant, business manager in Annapolis, and three colleaguesRobert Welzenbach, Donald Stratton, and Fred King-recently won first prize in the international barbershop quartet competitions in Atlantic City, New Jersey. The Oriole Four quartet won the highest award on June 27th after twelve and a half years of dedicated work. The Society for the Preservation and Encouragement of Barbershop Quartet Singing in America (S.P.E.B.S.Q.S.A.) contest is sponsored annually by the International Society as a tribute to Owen C. Cash who founded the society in 1938. John S. Kieffer is at home recovering from major surgery. The Annapolis 1970 graduation address by The Reverend J. Winfree Smith has been published in the Congressional Record on June 30th and Jnly 8th. Edward G. Sparrow represented the College at the inauguration of Dr. ClaLence C. Walton as the first lay president of The Catholic University of America in Washington, D. C., in November. Marie Winterhaler, one of the first staff members of St. John's College in Santa Fe, resigned August 7th as acting assistant dean; she and Roger S. Peterson, a Tutor at the College, were married on August 23rd in Los Angeles, California. 19 �ALUMNI ACTIVITIES ALUMNI DELEGATES During the academic year 1969-70, a number of alumni across the country were called upon to represent the College on ceremonial occasions at other institutions; w.e are grateful to the following for their help: John S. Price '31, at the sesq~icen­ tennial celebration and maugurahon of Thomas A. Bartlett as president of Colgate University, September 25th, 1969; Kendon L. Stubbs '60, at the !50th anniversary convocation at the University of Virginia, October 21st; Alice G. Chalmers '67, at the inauguration of Arthur G. Hansen as president of the Georgia Institute of Technology, November 29th; Thomas Farran, Jr. '42 at the lOOth anniversary convocatio~ and inauguration of Jacqueline Grennan Wexler as president of Hunter College, February lith; Ch;nles L. Van Doren '46, at the lOOth anniversary convocation at Loyola Uni~ versity of Chicago, March 9th; Robert A. Licht '62, at the inauguration of Robert J. Nassen as president of Bloomsburg (Pa.) State College, April 18th; Jonathan E. Brooks '49, at the centennial convocation at the Umversity of Akron, May 8th; Paul R. Comegys '41, at the inauguration of Frank N. Elliott as president of Rider College, May 16th; and Fred Bielaski '16, at the dedication of the new campus of the University of the Americas, Puebla, Mexico, July 16th. ALUMNI SET NEW GIVING RECORDS Although the final report on Alumni Annual Giving will be published in detailed form soon, our readers might enjoy a few highlights of the 1969-70 Campaign which ended on June 30th. 20 New records were set as 828 alumni responded to the appeals of Chairman Myron L. Wolbarsht '50 and his team of volunteer workers. Unrestncted gifts amounted to $26,139, or 4.5 per cent in excess of the announced goal. Tbere were 87 King William Associates during the year, up from 83 the previous year; 56 of these were enrolled for the second time. (Membership in the Associates is limited to alumni who make an unrestncted g~ft of at least $100.) The total response was 29.2 per cent, comfortably passing the goal of 25 per cent, and up from 22.5 per cent last year. Thirty-six of the achve classes exceeded the 29.2 per cent figure, while 50 classes went over the 25 per cent goal. And for the first time in many years, every class was represented by at least one donor. DANFORTH FELLOWSHIPS FOR WOMEN This year for the seventh time the Danforth Foundation has announced competition for its Graduate Fellow. ships for Women. The objective of the program 1s to find and develop college and secondary school teachers among American women whose preparation for teaching has been postponed or interrupted. Recipients of the Graduate Fellowships are expected to undertake full:time teaching upon completwn of their de· grees. . Thirty-five new appomtments are available annually, with the maximum award for 1971-72 set at $3,000 plus tuition and fees, or for heads of families, $4,000 plus tuition and fees. Appointments are for one year beginning September, 1971, and are renewable annually. A brochure Danforth Graduate Fellowships for 'women, provides fuller information about this program. Write: Graduate Fellowships for Women Danforth Foundation 222 South Central Avenue St. Louis, Missouri 63105 HoMECOMING OcToBER 16-17 Building on the success of last year's record-breaking attraction, this year's Homecoming Committee is pJ;mning another two-day event. Chairman Jack A Nadol '57 has announced the gener~l schedule of activities, and this appears on the back cover of this issue. The highlight for many alumm Will again be Alumni Seminars on Saturday morning. (The specific readmgs w1ll be announced in a special mailing about mid-September.) Those who attended last year will note that there 1s no conflict with this year's seminars. For those who are inclined toward golf tennis or sailing, Friday's schedule 'offers ~pportunities to enjoy the outdoors. For those whose interests are less athletic, the week-end offers a variety of other activities. . Again this year, certam classes :"'ll be holding reunions at Homecommg. Special emphasis is being placed on the "decade" classes, and on the 5th and 25th year classes. Plan now to join these and other classes in October. CLASS NOTES 1924 Coleman M. Anderson, known to generations of students at Ba1timore's Forest Park High School as "Andy", has retired after 46 years of service to scholastic athletics in Maryland. During his years at Forest Park, Mr. ~nderson coached five sports, and among Ius young charges were many future St. Johnnies. �September 1970 1931 On June 30, 1970, Lt. Gen. Lewis J. Fields retired after 39 years' service in the United States Marines. Gen. Fields received his professional education in various Marine Corps schools and at the Army's Field Artillery School at Ft. Sill, Okla. At the time of his retirement, Gen. Fields was Commanding General, Marine Corps Development and Education Command, Quantico, Va. Gen. and Mrs. Fields now make their home in Fairfax, Va. 1940 Robert H. Reynolds on August 7th received his master's degree in Social Studies from Shippenburg (Pa.) State College. 1963 Paul C. Coclmm, recently graduated from the General Theological Seminary in New York, is now vicar at the Church of the Holy Cross, San Antonio, Tex. He was ordained deacon on June 14th. Mr. Cochran and his wife, whom he met and married when he was in Greece, are parents of a year-old daughter, Anastasia. S. David Krimins graduated in June from the Hahnemann Medical College in Philadelphia. Dr. and Mrs. Krimins and their year-old son, Ethan Marc, are now living in Richmond, Va., where Dr. Krimins is an intern at the Medical College of Virginia HospitaL 1964 1947 A good note from John Brunn advises that he has just completed a year's soibbatical leave, studying mathematics at California State College at Hayward. He will again be teaching mathematics and physics at Chabot College in San Francisco. Mr. Brunn adds that in the spring he will work with an interdisciplinary program using great hooks; he will have the physics, mathematics, and astronomy portions of the program, and will lead one of the five discussion sections. TI1c August 3rd issue of Time contained a brief write-up about Eugene V. Thaw, as part of a story on private art dealers in New York City. 1950 The Rev. David C. Streett II in July became Administrative Director of the Augusta (Ga.) Planned Parenthood Association. He will also continue as vicar of All Saints' Church in Beach Island, S. C. 1955 Donald A. PI1illips joined the National Council on Alcoholism, Inc., in June as Assistant Director of the Labor-Management Services Department. For seven years preceding this latest appointment, Mr. Phillips was Sales and Service Manager for Ma1co Plastics, Inc., in Baltimore. He and his family make their home in Fanwood, N. J. 1958 Christina (Sopher) Neumann in June received her M.A. degree in German from the University of California at Riverside, and has started work on her doctorate in the same field. 1961 Darrell L. Hemy, President of the Alumni Association, former Zoning Hearings Officer for Anne Arundel County (Md.), and now in law practice in Annapolis, was a Democratic candidate for the Maryland Senate in the September, 1970, primary election. 1962 Susan (Cliver) Eames and Lt.Comdr. Lucian B. Purinton II were married last October 18th, and at present are stationed in Portugal. Sara (Hobart) Homeyer, who so thoughtfully sent the information about Paul Cochran (see 1963), writes that her husband has been assigned to Altus Air Force Base, Okla., from San Antonio. John F. White, a graduate assistant at the New School for Social Research in New York, delivered the Friday lecture for the February freshman class on August 14th. Mr. White's subject was "On Mimesis (Poetry and Politics)." 1965 Susan (Liebersobn) Ginsburg writes that husband Jay is now a partner in A. A. Ehrlich and Associates, a Washington, D. C., firm engaging in individual and business financial planning. The Ginsburgs are the parents of a year-old son David, and e.xpect another addition at the end of the year. 1966 \Villiam N. McKeatchie last Trinity Sunday became a deacon in the Church of God in a ceremony in Toronto, Canada, Mr. McKeatchie will serve in the Cathedral Parish of St. James in Toronto until October, and will then become Assistant to the Chaplain and a D .Phil. candidate at St. John's College, Oxford. Douglas C. Proctor and Miss Roberta Ruth West of Rockville, Md., were married July 18th in Silver Spring, Md. working at Spring Grove State Hospital as an alternative to military service, hopes to become a Presbyterian clergyman. Hope Rosemary Zoss left the single ranks when she and Jon Wayne Schladen were married on May 31st at her parents' home in Minneapolis. Both Mr. and Mrs. Schladen have been reading specialists for Independent Education Services of Princeton, N. J. In addition, Mrs. Schladen has conducted a master course in reading development at the Chaplain's School, Newport, R. I. 1968 Bruce R. Baldwin {SF) received his M.A. degree in Urban Planning from the University of Michigan on May 2nd. So far as we are aware, Mr. Baldwin is the first Santa Fe gradu. ate to receive an advanced degree. Information from the Santa Fe campus indicates that Mr. Baldwin was to have entered Peace Corps service on July 6th. 1968 Ann Blaine Garson is now a graduate student in pathology at the University of Pittsburgh. The engagement of Stephanie Prigge and George F. Kramer SF '66 was announced in July. An August wedding was planned. M"r. Kramer is a law student at the University of New Mexico. 1969 Jonatlmn D. Sackson and Penelope R. Rowe '71 were married August 8th in Cincinnati, with Andrew A. F. Garrison '70 serving as best man. The Sacksons will live in Annapolis this year. Hugo B. D. Hamilton (SF) and Miss Georgia Marodes Weyer were married on June 27th in Santa Fe. Mrs. Hamilton is a native of Santa Fe, and is Registrar of the Museum of New Mexico. The Hamiltons wiH make their home in Santa Fe. In Memoriam 1967 William F. Cone bas been appointed Assist· 1910-P. Y. K. HowAT, \Vashington, D. G., July 19, 1970. ant Headmaster of the middle grades at the Key School He has taught mathematics at the Annapolis school since graduation from St. John's. Roger B. Glad and Miss Rowena E. McDonald of Port Hueneme, Cal., were married on June 20th. Mrs. Glad is a student at the University of California at Los Angeles, while Mr. Glad is employed in the Los Angeles area. Clark E. Lobenstine, his wife Joy, and two Episcopal clergymen have begun a Christian commune in Baltimore. Their desire is to show that peace in this world must start at the neighborhood level, where people, with their basic differences, show that they can live together in harmony. Mr. Lobenstine, who is 1921-BEVERLY S. RoBERTS, Fredericksburg, Va., March 25, 1970. 1922-JoHN H. ScHWATKA, Chestertown, Md., June 29, 1970. 1923-ALBERT SYDNEY DERINGER, Chestertown, Md. July 17, 1970. THOMAS S. PHOEBUS, Richmond, June 24, 1970. 1929-THE REV. CHARLES M. ROBINJarrettsville, Md., July 14, 1970. SON, 1943-PETER H. W. JACKSoN, Rutherford, N. C., July 8, 1970. 21 �HOMECOMING ACTIVITIES "Friday, October 16th: Morning: Golf Tournament Afternoon: Golf Tournament Alumni Seminars Noon: Luncheon with students Afternoon: Annual Meeting Tennis Matches Sailing Night: Graduate School Counseling Alumni- Student Soccer Game Lecture Movie Informal "Welcome Aboard" Cocktail Party Saturday, October 17th: lVIorning: Registration The College St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland 2!404 Night: Annual Dinner Alumni Parties Second-elass postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The College </em>(1969-1981) Description An account of the resource St. John's College's Office of the Dean published <em>The College</em> from 1969 to 1981. The publication superseded <em><a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/37" title="The Bulletin of St. John's College">The Bulletin of St. John's College</a></em>.  <em>The College</em> was in turn continued by <a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/13" title="The St. John's Review"><em>The St. John's Review</em></a> in 1981.  <br /><br />A separate magazine for St. John's alumni titled <em>The College </em>began publication in 2001, continuing <em>The St. John's Reporter</em>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The College" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=12">Items in the The College Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource 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 Santa Fe, NM Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thecollegemagazine 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. 21 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Development Offices of St. John's College Title A name given to the resource The College, September 1970 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1970-09 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Berns, Laurence Felter, Mary P. Parran, Jr., Thomas Trimmer, Maurice Sullivan, Daniel Description An account of the resource Volume XXII, Number 3 of The College. Published in September 1970. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context The_College_Vol_22_No_3_1970 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 President's Report Presidents The College https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/9d7c5dff94abb029509aa40bf098e760.pdf 3fa11b3b07fdfe1b8dded9572dae5733 PDF Text Text THE COLLEGE St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland Santa Fe, New Mexico December 1970 �The College Cover: Statue of Virgil, by Benedetto Antelami (?),Mantua, Palazzo Ducale, ca. 1215. Inside Front Cover: McDowell Hall, Annapolis. The College is a publication for friends of St. John's College and for those who might become friends of the College, if they came to know it. Our aim is to indicate, within the limitations of the magazine form, why, in our opinion, St. John's comes closer than any other college in the nation to being what a college should be. If ever well-placed beacon lights were needed by American education it is now. By publishing articles about the work of the College, articles reflecting the distinctive life of the mind that is the College, we hope to add a watt or two to the beacon light that is St. John's. Editor: Laurence Berns Managing Editor: Mary P. Felter Alumni Editor: Thomas Farran, Jr. Editorial Assistant: Maurice Trimmer Art Editor: Daniel Sullivan, '71 The College is published by the Development Offices of St. John's College, College Avenue, Annapolis, Maryland 21404 (Julius Rosenberg, Director), and Santa Fe, New Mexico (J. Burchenal Ault, Vice President); Member, American Alumni Council. President, St. John's College, Richard D. Weigle. Published four times a year in April, July, October, and December. Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. Vol. XXII December 1970 No. 4 In the December Issue: Reflections on the Idea of Science, by Curtis Wilson. 1 The Myth of Virgil's Aeneid, by Jacob Klein ... 12 News on the Campuses .. 19 Alumni Activities ... 23 �Reflections on the Idea of Science* By CURTIS WILSON We and our world stand within the unity of an encompassing history, a vast culture or set of traditions, inherited techniques and patterns of behavior, interlocking and diverging patterns of transmitted thought. And perhaps the mightiest of these traditions today is that which we call "science." Its eff·ects are omnipresent. It has trans~ formed, and continues to transform, at an ·ever accelerat- Rigorous standards of procedure are upheld; results are arrived at which are reproducible with a known order of precision. Should a mistaken assumption be made, it will surely be found to be such, for there is a constant reference to observation and experiment, to reality. We gain the image here of a machine which functions smoothly, dispassionately, according to rules of operahon which are clearly set forth once and for all. As its product we obtain universally established, objective truths. ing rate, the visible world around us as well as the routine of our lives. It has made possible the extinction of man and his culture in a universal holocaust; and it has presented, for the first time in the history of the human species, the possibility of banishing material want from the face of the earth. All this is journalistic commonplace, and the actual or possible material effects of science are not my concern here. These effects t?stify, of course, to a certain kind of success of the on-going tradition of modern science, and this success brings with it a certain claim. When I set out to think in the attitude of one who seeks to arrive a-t truth and to avoid falsehood, this claim appears upon the horizon of my thought, whether invited or not. It is the claim of the objectivity of science. Whether I choose to welcome this spectre as a friend, or to duel with him as an enemy, which is involved here is relatively recent. In the .thirteenth century the use of these terms in philosophic discourse was almost opposite to the present-day use; "subject," from subjicio, to place or throw under, could mean a thing as a sustainer of properties and attributes, something so to speak "thrown under" the qualities of the thing; "object," from objicio, to place or throw before or opposite one, normally meant the concept intended by the mind. The present-day use appears to derive from a particular setting of problems in modern philosophic thought, be- or even to dismiss him as irrelevant to my concerns, his ginning with Descartes's assumption that what exists must appearance, I believe, will not have been without lasting effect upon my thought. For as participant in a particular either be a thinking thing, res cogitans, or an extended thing, res extensa. Particularly since Kant, the words "subject" and "object" hav-e been the key terms of a compli- culture at a particular time-and every human being is that-! do not find it possible to determine my thought just as I please; problems, and the terms in which they are couched, are presented. And we cannot set out to think in our time without being confronted with the claim upon our thought of scientific objectivity. It seems best, therefore, to attempt to question this spectre, to try to elicit the meaning of his pr.esence. Why do I say "spectre"? Surely there is nothing ghostly or frightening about scientific objectivity. Here is a realm of light. We are out of the dust of metaphysical disputation. Superstition and prejudice have been left behind. *A lecture given at St. John's College, Annapolis, in September, 1961. "Objectivity," however, is a polar term; it evokes its contrary or opposite, "subjectivity"; it has its meaning in relation to the meaning of this second term. I should mention that the use of the terms Hsubject" and Hobject" cated and sometimes acrimonious dialectic. Kierkegaard says: "Subjectivity is the truth." The theologian Berdyaev says: "The self-alienation of spirit in objectivity is a fall." The psychoanalyst Theodore Reik speaks of the bitchgoddess objectivity. l-Ie suggests that there is an historical connection between the most elevated passion or thirst for knowledge and the desire to devour something; this hypothesis, he adds, will explain why people open their mouths when surprised. What is at issue here? Clearly the terms "subjectivity" and "objectivity" are being used as firearms; they are, as we say, "loaded terms." Is not this opposition basically the one of which C.P. Snow complains?-the splitting of the intellectual life of western society into two polar groups, between which there is a gulf of mutual incomprehension and even hostility-those typified as literary intellectuals 1 �The College on the one hand, those called scientists on the other. "The non-scientists," Snow says, have a rooted impression that the scientists are shallowly optimistic, unaware of man's condition. The scientists believe that the literary intellectnals are totally lacking foresight, pecnliarly unconcerned with their brother man, in a deep sense anti-intellectual, anxious to restrict art and thought to the existeThtial moment. It is not hard, Snow adds, to produce plenty of this kind of subterranean backchat. It is my purpose here, not to rehearse the debate, but to try to specify more exactly the notion of scientific objectivity, which I have called a ghost, and then to compare this notion with what I believe to be the actualities of scientific practice. When we think or speak of scientific objectivity, I believe we ar.e evoking a kind of mosaic of meanings, different components of which will be in the foreground of our attention in different contexts of discussion. I believe I can distinguish the following components. First, we are thinking of science as empirical, as based on observation of what we call facts. We are thinking of science as a set of statements which is "objective" in the sense that its substance, its essential content, is entirely determined by observation, even though its presentation may be shaped by and end in the discard. Yes, of course, you say, a selection has to be made; the observations have to be sorted. In order that knowledge should arise from sense experience, you must abstract or separate certain aspects from the different perceptions, associ3!te similar aspects in order to form general ideas, and correlate those aspects which are constantly conjoined. I counter with a question: What do you mean here by "observation" or "sense~perception"? Am I supposed to be thinking of myself as a blind computer harnessed to a brainless photoplate? Consider the following passage from Duhem's La theorie physique (p. 218): Enter a laboratory; approach the table crowded with an assor•tment of apparatus, an electric cell, silk-covered copper wire, small cups of mercury, spools of wire, a mirror mounted on an iron bar; the experimenter is ins·evting into small openings the metal ends of ebony-headed pins; the iron oscillates, and the mirror attached to it throws a luminous band upon a celluloid scale; the forward-backward motion of this spot enables the physicist to observe H1e minute oscillations of the iron bar. But ask him what he is doing. Will he answer "I am studying the oscillations of the iron bar which carries a mirror"? No, he will say that he is measuring the electric resistance of the spools. If you ar·e astonished, if you ask him what his words mean, what rela-tion they have with the phenomena he has been observing and which you have noted at the same time as he, he will answer that your question requires a long explanation and that you should take a course in electricity. convention. Second, we are thinking of science as a set of techniques, exact methods for establishing control over experience. We are thinking that there is something called scientific method, a set of precise rules for proceeding which can be formally set out and empirically tested. The scientist has only to follow the rules faithfully in order to arrive at reliable results. Third, we are thinking of science as proposing a certain type of explanation as the only proper and final kind of explanation; roughly speaking, a physico-chemical explanation of all things, including living and thinking beings. I shall take up the three components one by one. It will be clear enough that I regard these assertions embedded in the notions of scientific objectivity as false and misleading; but there is a central and important clement in the notion which I shall seek to disengage in the end. I begin with the notion of science as empirical, as determined in its essential content by observation. Kirchhoff, the nineteentl1-century physicist, said that science is ultimately concerned with nothing else than a precise and conscientious description of what has been perceived through the senses. Suppose now that a man devotes his entire adult life to writing down in notebooks a precise and conscientious description of what he perceives through the senses; when his life approaches its close, he forwards these notebooks to the National Academy of Sciences. It will not be merely because of bureaucratic inefficiency that these notebooks are never read by anyone, 2 Is it altogether clear that the visitor sees the same thing as the physicist? Consider the following cases. A musician listening to a quintet hears that the oboe is out of tune; the non~musician does not. Or a Westerner and a Far~ Easterner listen, both for the first time, to a Mozart concerto. For the one there is a perception of form, for the other there is confusing, unadulterated pure sound. For the experienced listener, the interpretation is there in the music; it is not something taking up a time of its own, subsequent to the hearing. 'I11e same goes for seeing. I see a bird in the air; my seeing takes him in as a being that has just been flying and that will continue in the arc of his flight. Or compare the way in which the freshmen see the College campus with the way it appears to his ancient Tutor. Seeing, hearing, perceiving are through and through interpretative; only in a limiting case, maybe in the case of a newborn babe, or a person fainting, does observation become an encounter with unfamiliar and unconnected flashes, spots of color, sounds, bumps. A physicist confronted with observations which he could describe only in terms of color patches, shapes, oscillations, pointer read- �December 1970 In the development of modern physics one has to distinguish the great theoretical achievements, or times of theoretical break-through, from the mopping-up exercises whrch follow. Textbooks of physical science tend to give the following picture. First a theory is proposed. Then there is a certain amount of logical and mathematical equipment, a kind of machine, used in manipulating the theory; the theoretical assumptions are fed into this machine along with certain initial condi-tions specifying the srtuatwn to whrch the theory is to be applied, the crank is turned; logical and mathematical operations are ings, would feel himself to be in a conceptually confused situation; he would try to get his observations to cohere against a background of established knowledge. It is in terms of a perceiving in which the elements already cohere in a pattern and interpretation that new inquiry proceeds, and not m terms of an encounter with pure flashes, sounds and bumps. Physicists observe new data as physicists, and not as cameras. What I have been saying argues against the view that observation is simply opening one's eyes and seeing, or that facts are plain and unvarnished, and not laden with theory. But I want to go further. Observation, measurement, experimental result-all these have had their roles in the development of what we call modern science. These roles have not been the same as the role of experience in, say, .theological speculation-where, by the way, experience does have a role; for I do not think that we can make any statement at all which docs not have roots of some kind in our experience of the visible, sounding world. But the question is how we are to describe the relation of theory and fact in the modern scientific development; and I maintain that we do not describe that relation correctly if we say that theories are merely convenient summaries of experience, or economic adaptations of thought to faots, or logical constructions whose sole purpose is to predict what will he observed. I do not even believe that it is corr~ct to _say that validity or rightness of a theory can be Slffiply JUdged by the degree to which it is confirmed by experiment, or that a theory is automatically discarded when experiment fails to confirm it. The rightness or wrongness of these statements that I make can only he determined through a close examination of the ways in which scientific speculation and experimentation have proceeded in actual, particular cases; I cmi only give a few indications here. I take physical science as paradigmatic, and avoid the social sciences where the maxim often seems to be: If you cannot measure, measure anyhow. intern~ ally performed, and numerical predictions emerge from the chute at the front of the machine. These predictions are arranged in the left-hand column of a table· in the right-hand column appear the results of actual r'neasure· ments. If the numbers in the two columns are in reasonable agreement, the theory is said to be confirmed; otherwise, it is disconfirmed. We must first ask: what is meant by "reasonable agreement"? Is an average deviation of three per cent acceptable, is ten per cent good enough, or should we insist on 0.001 per cent? These questions cannot be decided a priori, independently of the total theoretical background within which the physicist works in each case. In effect, the tables in the textbooks define what is meant by reasonable agreement in the case which is being described. In the second place, we must examine what physicists do in the period following the proposal of a new and encompassing theory. Are they engaged in attempting to confirm the theory by experiment? If so, then a failure to obtain agreement between theoretical prediction and actual measurement should lead to discarding the theory. Nothing of the sort happens. In general, a theory is not discarded unless there is another theory to replace it. In general, the theory has already been accepted; it has been accepted because it brings potential order to a large number of natural phenomena. Finer and finer investigations of the quantitative match between theory and observation are not attempts to confirm the theory, but attempts to make explicit what was previously implicit agreement between theory and the world. Again and again, nature's hand has to be forced. If the physicist succeeds in achieving reasonable agreement between theory and observation, he achieves a result already anticipated by the general community of physicists. If he fails, his failure counts not against the theory, but against himself; his talents have not proved equal to the task. In 1638 Galileo published his description of the famous inclined plane experiment. He claimed that comparisons of the times required by a sphere to roll different measured distances down the plane confirmed his prior thesis that the motion was uniformly accelerated; he did not report his measurements. Subsequently a group of wellknown scientists in France announced their total failure to get comparable results, and publicly doubted that 3 �The College Galileo ever tried the experiment. Presumably Galileo did perform the experiment; presumably he got results which appeared to him to be reasonable agreement with his hypothesis. Anyone who has performed this experiment with a present-day electric timer or stop-watch may doubt that Galileo's results were in anything like unequivocal agreement with the hypothesis. But for the development of physics this did not particularly matter. What mattered was that there should appear a detective like Newton, who, taking as clues such apparently unnoticed unrelated items as Galileo's thesis, Kepler's laws for the planets, observations of the lunar tides, and precession of the equinoxes, and so on, could produce a coherent pattern of intelligibility, a rational structure of potential explanatory power. The coherence and rationality of such a pattern is recognized precisely when one understands the theory, and not otherwise; there is a quality of wholeness there, an interlocking of parts in the theoretical structure, which commands the assent of the mind. And there is also an indeterminate range of yet unknown implications which later investigators will be years in ferreting out and trying to realize in experimental situations. In the years between 1902 and 1926, D. C. Miller repeated the Michelson-Morley experiment many thousands of times, in an effort to disconfirm the theory of relativity. The Michelson-Morley experiment, you know, is generally described as having shown that the velocity of the earth with respect to the ether is indetectible. (The ether is, or was, the medium hypothesized as carrying electromagnetic vibration-radio waves, light waves, and so on.) Actually the experiment detected a positive effect, corresponding to a velocity of about eight or nine kilometers per second. 4 This is considerably less than a pre-Einsteinian physicist, believing in absolute space, would have predicted; but it is not zero. In 1925, Miller announced that the whole series of his experiments confirmed overwhelmingly the existence of a positive effect of about eight or nine kilometers per second. Miller was known to be a careful experimentalist. One would have supposed that the theory of relativity would be insbmtly abandoned, or at least that physicists would have withheld judgment until Miller's results could be accounted for without impairing the theory of relativity. Nothing of the kind. Only in Russia were Miller's results taken as casting doubt on the theory, and there the theory of relativity had not been accepted as yet anyway, since it was believed to be in conflict with the dialectical materialism of Engels and Lenin, and no material benefits seemed to flow from it. For physicists elsewhere, however, the theory of relativity continued to command belief for the reasons which had led to its original acceptance: it provided a coherent vision of laws, theories, facts, which had previously appeared disparate, rationally unconnected. TI1ere is still no generally agreed-upon interpretation of Miller's result; but the indetectibility of the earth's motion relative to the ether has been shown experimentally in ways quite independent of the Michelson-Morley apparatus. According to Einstein himself, and contrary to most textbook accounts, contrary even to certain implications in the St. John's manual on this subject, the MichelsonMorley experiment played no role in the formulation of relativity theory. Einstein was concerned fundamentally with certain anomalies in the theory of electrodynamics. For instance, he felt that when a magnet is moved relative �December to an electrical conductor, or a conductor relative to a magnet, the situation was fundamentally the same, and should be determined by the relative velocity alone; whereas Maxwell's electrodynamics gave different accounts of the two cases. It is sometimes alleged that Einstein's motive was to eliminate untestable conceptions from theory, for instance, the notion of absolute space. Such conceptions, it is urged, are meaningless. This assertion is an attempt to assimilate Einstein's work to the notion of science as economic description. Actually, the Newtonian conception of space was not untestable; Einstein showed not that it was meaningless but that it was false. What I am urging here is that the great and revolutionary theories of physics-and the number of these has not been large-have all possessed qualities of wholeness and coherence, intellectual beauties and harmonies and profundities, and that it is by these qualities that the theories have laid claim to truth. Observations and experimental results function as clues; but the theories transcend such experience by embracing a vision of the world. This vision speaks for itself and as such becomes accredited with prophetic powers. This view of the nature of physics will be confirmed, I believe, by a study of the major theoretical achievements from Copernicus to Einstein. Nor does the newer quantum mechanics deny it, so far as I can tell from a slight acquaintance. Unlike previous theories, it is peculiarly concerned with the processes involved in observation itself; but I do not find that it is a convenient or economical summary of experimental results. It requires of the physicist startlingly new ways of thinking about the world. Every one of the major theories has done just that-changed the framework of interpretation. And it is just for this reason that such major discoveries cannot be arrived at by continued application of a previously accepted framework of interpretation. This brings me to the second component of the notion of scientific objectivity which I have distinguished: the conception of science as method. Let me begin by considering the subject of methods generally. We are all able to do many things. We walk, talk, and eat with fork and spoon. All these actions involve sets of skills, or arts. What is an art or skill? Consider a simple case like this: the usc of a hammer to drive a nail. The carpenter is aware of both the nail and the hammer, but it is the nail which occupies the focus of his attention. He watches the effect of his strokes, and wields the hammer in such a way as to hit the nail effectively. He is aware in a subsidiary way of the feeling in his fingers and hand: even more dimly, he may be aware of the contractions in the muscles of his arm and shoulder, and of his whole bodily posture. But these feelings are not the object of his atter1tion; they are not watched in themselves. The subsidiary awareness is merged into a focal awareness of driving the nail. The adjustments in hand 1970 and arm and body are instrumental in achieving an end; the hammer is used as a tool, an extension of the body. By the effort of concentration on the operation to be performed, the successful nail-driver absorbs, one might say, the elements of the situation of which he might otherwise be aware in themselves; he is aware of them only in terms of the operational results achieved through their use. He is no doubt following here a complex set of rules; but he is not aware of these rules as such. The same thing, I believe, is true of every skilled performance. The process of bicycling can be analyzed in accordance with the theory of mechanics. It is found that when the cyclist starts falling to the right, he turns the handlebars to the right, so that the bicycle moves along a curve to the right. This action results in a centrifugal force which pushes the cyclist to the left and offsets the gravitational force which is dragging him down to the right. This maneuver soon has the effect of throwing the cyclist out of balance to the left, a lack of balance which he counteracts by turning the handlebars to the left; and so he keeps in balance by winding along a series of appropriate curves. An analysis in terms of Proposition IV of Book I of Newton's Principia shows that for a given angle of unbalance the radius of the curve must be inversely proportional to the square of the cyclist's speed. The cyclist, of course, knows nothing of all this; nor would such information be useful in learning to ride. In any skilled performance there are countless rules which are observed but of which the performer is unaware. An art or skill is a set of potentialities which is brought into play in the accomplishment of an end. The elements of the successful performance are merged in a focal awareness of the end. Bringing one of these elements into awareness may be occasionally helpful in improving performance; but focal awareness of the elements, if maintained, is destructive of the skill, and leads to a paralysis like stagefright. It may indeed be possible to analyze every aspect of a skilled performance; and it will then be possible to replace the performer by a machine. The studies of the industrial arts made in preparation for mechanization have repeatedly shown that such analysis is enormously difficult. The resources of microscopy, chemistry, mathematics, and electronics have as yet failed pathetically to produce a single violin of the quality which Stradivarius achieved as a matter of routine 200 years ago. Even in modern industries based on the discoveries of pure science there is a considerable amount of undefined knowledge or knowhow which forms an essential part of the technology. Hence the importance of imitation in learning a skill; the apprentice has to submit himself to the authority and example of the master; he thus learns to obey rules of which he is not focally aware and which may not even be explicitly known to the master himself. An unbroken tradition, from generation to generation, is essential here. 5 �The College I want to apply these conclusions now to the cognitive or intellectual arts, the arts not of doing but of knowing. Let me begin with the arts of language; it is the possession of these arts which distinguishes man from the other animals; and it is their exercise which has made possible the constant extension of human knowledge on the basis of previously achieved results. A language is no doubt a construction, the product of the activity of generations of human beings belonging to a given society. The ready use of nouns, verbs, adjectives, which have been invented and endowed with meaning by unknown men of the past, expresses a theory of the nature of things. Every child who learns to speak accepts unwittingly this theory or framework as the basis for all further efforts of understanding. There is a prevalent view that language is a set of convenient symbols used according to conventional rules of a "language game." Likewise, the nominalistic doctrine which was put forward in medieval times and is still with us, maintains that general terms are merely names desig- nating certain collections of objects. The implication is that a language is essentially arbitrary and unrelated to the way things are. This view is adopted in abhorrence of its metaphysical alternatives. On the contrary, I think that we can appraise skill and lack of skill in the use of words. I am sometimes aware of groping for words and phrases, and I recognize that something is awry when I get the wrong one. A skilled artist in speech is thoroughly conscious of the figurative and metaphorical elements in speech. He continues to correct and supplement one metaphor by another, even allowing contradictions to enter at times, but always attending focally to the unity of his thought. In skillful speech, there is only a subsidiary awareness of words; one sees through the words to things; attention is focused on the object of the thought. This characteristic has been called the transparency of language. Every situation to which speech is applied is to some extent unprecedented. In the adaptation of speech to new situations, there is a focal awareness of the situation of which we wish to make sense, and a subsidiary awareness of the words we are using as instruments. In this process the meanings of words become modified, but we are not focally aware of this change. Our framework of interpretation thus changes, and the words for which we grope become invested with a fund of unspecifiable connotations. What I have just said applies not only to the education of a single person, but to the development of the language of a whole society. The efforts of men to adapt language to situations and things have the result, after years and centuries and millennia, of modifying the instrument of interpretation itself. Some of the changes are degenerative; but words which have great human significance tend to accumulate a wealth of connotations adapted to the situations in which they have been meaningfully applied. It is 6 because of this fact that when we speak we say more than we know; that language seems to have a wisdom of its own. And it is also because of this fact that inquiries of the Socratic type are worthwhile. We have the power to take cognizance of a subsidiary element in the comprehension of a term, say ~~justice" or "courage"; we can try to define the term. Such an enterpris-e presupposes an understanding of the subject-matter to which the term refers. Only if we are confident that we can identify what is just or courageous in particular cases, can we reasonably undertake to define the term. If we want to analyze the meaning of the term, we must be using it as thoughtfully as we can, and at the same time watch ourselves doing this. We must look, with all the discrimination we ·can bring to bear, through the term "justice" at justice itself; for this is the use we are trying to define. I am urging, then, that the skills of using a language are like other skills; that the employment of linguistic skill involves the merging of a subsidiary awareness of words and grammer in a focal awarenes of an end, say persuading someone of something, or expressing a truth. The process depends on a fund of unspecified connections and connotations which constitute a framework or instrument of potential explanation. Any attempt to step altogether outside this framework and to criticize the structure of language as wholly arbitrary and conventional, is lacking in frankness; for the attempt employs and appeals to the very instrument whose validity it denies. Language commits us, far beyond our comprehension, to a vision of the world. It is a shirt of flame in which we arc garmented; the responsibility of wearing it we cannot avoid. The view I am advocating would deny that there is a single scientific method, or method of achieving truth, the rules of which can be set down once and for all. I do not deny that there are methods (plural) which have been developed in the particular sciences, and which continue to be applied effectively in a variety of situations. But formulations of these techniques, even by a competent scientist, tend to be inadequate because the scientist automatically supplements the explicit formulation by a tacit knowledge of how the techniques are applied in particular cases. As an illustration -of the way in which tacit appraisals are involved in the use of a giv:en technique, let me men- tion the application of probability theory. This theory is applicable to systems of objects and events which have a characteristic called randomness, and also to significantly ordered systems which interact with random systems. ~~Randomness" means the absence of significant order or pattern; ''significant order," of course, means absence of randomness. The randomness of a system cannot be speci- fied in terms of the particular elements of the system; such specification, if it were possible, would in fact destroy the randomness. The appraisal of a system as random or as orderly depends on tenuous criteria peculiar to the system �December 1970 under consideration, and cannot be reduced to universal rules. This becomes evident when probability theory is applied to a live scientific issue; in such cases there may be intense controversy Ol'er the proper experimental design and statistical technique. If we turn to the deductive or mathematical aspects of the science, I believe we shall find again the same supremacy of art over mechanical procedure. The teaching of all the mathematical sciences such as mechanics or electromagnetic theory relies to a large extent on practice in solving problems. The skill striven for in all these cases is that of converting a language which one has assimilated only receptively into an active tool for answering new questions. The rules for problem-solving that can be specified are but vague maxims: Polya, in his book, How To Solve It, says "Look at the end. Remember your aim. Do not lose sight of what is required ... Look at the unknown." In attempting to solve a problem we use the known particulars as clues, and try to feel our way toward an understanding of the manner in which these known particulars relate with each other and with the unknown which is sought. To recognize the problem in the first place means to anticipate a hidden potentiality. As we proceed in tracing out relations and in trying various transpositions of symbols, we may at a certain moment feel that we are getting close; we sense-not without excitement-the accessibility of a hidden inference. Finding the solution is having a "happy thought"; it is crossing a logical gap. The solution of further problems of the same kind may increase our facility. In some cases we may discover a routine technique for dealing with all problems of a given class; such problems are no longer problems. The recognition of a genuine problem, and the solving of it, are acts which are not reducible to mechanical or systematic technique. That genuine discovery is not in principle capable of being dispensed with in the deductive disciplines has been shown as a result of research in metamathematics, the study of the formal properties of mathematical systems. In some such systen1s, a decision procedure is available, a finite sequence of predetermined operations which suffices to resolve every question or problem that can be set in the terms of the system. Reckoning of sums, differences, products, and quotients of numbers is of this character. There are other systems in which a decision procedure is available for deciding whether a given sequence of statements constitutes a proof of a given statement, but in which there is no decision procedure which would enable one to decide, in a finite number of steps, whether a given statement couched in the terms of the system is provable or not-is a theorem or not. In these cases a machine can be built which, by operating on the axioms according to specified rules of inference, will churn out theorems, one after another; but there mn be no guarantee that it will turn out in a given finite time the answer to any particular question. The determination as to whether a given statement in the language of science is deducible or not is contingent on time, luck, ingenuity, and intelligence directed toward a goal. Euclid's geometry is of this char- 7 �The College acter. We may speak of a primordial darkness of reason here; we are unable to .envisage the total outcome of a series of acts whose generating principle we can envisage with complete clarity. There is still a further kind of situation in the deductive s~ienc':', discovered by Goede! in 1931. Within any deductive sc1ence of suffic1ent scope to include arithmetic, it is p~ss,.bJe to formulate sentences which cannot be proved w1thm the sc1ence, that is, starting from the stated axioms of the science and employing the stipulated rules of inference, but which can nevertheless be shown to be true by reflections on the science as a whole. In 1949 Turing showed that a machine could be devised which would construct and assert as new axioms an indefinite sequence of these Goedelian sentences, as they are called. It nevertheless remains true that any given set of mathematical inference machines can only cut a swathe out of the total field of mathematical truths. Mathematics cannot be formalized, once and for all, in a single linear deductive development; the methods of procedure and inference in mathematics are, in principle, inexhaustible. What I am saying here, in sum, is that no fixed impersonal, and fully specified technique can be laid down for attaining all and only the truth. The knowledge we have or gain is shaped within a framework of tacit acceptance and incompl~tely specificable arts which are logically pnor to any particular assertion we may make. Such a framework can be altered, or as I would say, improved, in th~ very process of examining a topic in its light. Either th1s 1s so, or hberal education is nomensical. My acceptance of one of these alternatives rather than the other is no doubt a passionate aot, a comn1itment. I turn now to the third claim associated with the notion of scientific objectivity, roughly speaking, the claim that only explanatwns based on physics and chemistry can be accred1ted as finalm the scwnces. Huyghens, in his Treatise on L1ght ~f 1678, speaks of "the true Philosophy, in which one conce1ves the causes of all natural effects in terms of mechanical motions." Laplace, in his Treatise on Prob~ ability of 1814, writes than an intelligence which knew at one moment of time all the forces by which nature is animated and the respective positions of the entities which compose it . . . would embrace in the same formula the movements of the largest bodies in the universe and those of the lightest atom: nothing would be uncertain for i·t, and the future, like the past, would be present to its eyes. S~ch a mind, Laplace claims, would possess a complete sc1entific knowledge of the universe. K. S. Lashley, speakmg >n 1948 at a symposium on cerebral mechanisms in behavior, states: Our common meeting ground is the faith to 8 which we all subscribe, I believe, that the phenomena of behavior and of mind are ultimately describable in the concepts of the mathematical and physical sciences. With these views I believe it is necessary to do battle. For they present us with a picture of the universe in which we ourselves are absent, in which there are no scientists and hence no science. This is a simple-minded objection. I would support it and amplify it by the following considerations, which will have to be brief. Suppose, first, that the universal knowledge of which Laplace dreamed were possible. Then from the positions and velocities of the n atoms or particles of the world at a given time t,, it would be possible to compute the positions and veloc!lles of all these particles at any later or earher time t2. As 1t turns out, if n is greater than two, no exact and general solution of the computational problem is possible. But even if it were, it would remain true that this knowledge would not constitute knowledge of all past and future events, unless "event" be defined in so narrow a fashion as to exclude the events of which I have experience. The Laplacean picture supplies no clue as to how the data of experience are to be accounted fo·r; how I am to pass from information about atoms to data of experience. It 1nerely claims, wrongly as it turns out, that an answer is possible to a question raised by the theory of mechanics itself. The change from Newtonian to quantum mechanics makes no difference in this argument. The wave equation of the world in quantum mechanic~ represents our ultimate knowledge of all the parbcles m the world, leaving open within this framework only variations which are strictly random. There is no accounting here for living beings or for intelligent behavior. Computing machines and feedback mechanisms, as is well known today, can simulate or improve upon the behavior of living and thinking beings. But here again I must point to a very obvious fact, which is nevertheless often forgotten: No knowledge of physics or chemistry would ever suffice to enable us to recognize or account for a machine. A machine for instance a clock a steam engine or a digital computer, is an instrument or implement which is operated in accordance with certain more or less specifiable rules for the sake of a certain advantage. Of instruments, operational rules, and advantages, physics and chemistry can tell us nothing. Suppose you are confronted with a problematic object and try to explore its nature by a physical and chemical analysis of its parts. A complete phys1eal and chem1cal account of the object, and of all 1ls future possible transformations, would still not enable you to discover that it is a machine, if it is one and if so how it operates. Such a discovery could only b~ made by testing the object as a possible instance of known or conceivable machines. For you must know that the problematic object embodies a rule of rightness, or operational rule; that 1t can succeed or fail, depending on whether it 1 1 1 �December 1970 operates in accordance with this rule or not. In the subject matter of physics and chemistry proper, the notions of success and failure do not occur. Given the rule of rightness, the physicist and chemist may be able to find the causes of a failure of the machine, or the material conditions under which it will operate successfully; but the reasons for the consecutive stage of operations of the machine, and for the ways in which its parts are coordinated, are not specifiable in physico-chemical terms. The relation between reasons and physico-chemical causes or conditions is like the relation between logical rules and psychological explanations as applied to processes of thought. A given sequence of thought may be started by appetite or intellectual passion; it may depend on memory, visual imagination, and verbal or other symbolism. But a psychological analysis of these conditions will never reveal whether the sequence of thought embodies a correct inference or not. The thesis that all living beings are physico-chemical automata, the opemtions of which are in principle totally specifiable in terms of spatio-temporal determinations, is not strictly inconceivable. It forms a closed interpretative system which is passionately pursued by a whole school of geneticists and neurologists today. The fact that most non-psychopathic persons become morally indignant when treated as automata might be said to be due to primitive patterns of mentality that a perfect scientific knowledge would eliminate. There are, of course, many biological phenomena which have thus far resisted reduction to physico-chemical or spatio-chemical terms. These include the powers of improvisation discovered by Driesch in embryonic fragments, and the powers of adaptive reorganization exhibited by many animals in the achievement of a predetermined end under profoundly modified conditions. Tims a rat which has learned to run a maze will continue to find his way through it after the neural paths used in learning have been cut, although he has to employ quite different patterns of locomotion. All along the evolutionary scale of life, there is evidence for the presence of active centers which act inventively in ways which are not fully specifiable in physico-chemical terms. It can always be claimed, of course, that further knowledge will enable us to explain such evidence away. These particular and no doubt intricate issues within the biological sciences I cannot follow up here. My central 9 �The College point is that if man is himself regarded only m his factuality, only as a complex object which is in principle specifiable in physico-chemical terms, then the very idea of science becomes unintelligible. I can no longer accredit myself with the responsibility for drawing an ever indeterminate knowledge from unspecifiable clues with an aim to universal validity; nor can I acknowledge other persons as responsible centers of equally unspecifiable operations, aiming likewise at universal validity. In the resulting image of the world and of man there is no longer room for the norms and ideas of reason. Thus we&tern man, who since the sixth century B.C., has defined himself by the idea of reason, as anima] rationale, loses sight of himself. Reason, through a partial realization of its goal in modern science, appears to betray itself. This is the primary root, I believe, of the intellectual crisis of our time. Let me recur here to the fact with which I began. What we call science is at any moment, and for anyone, a part 10 of an inherited culture, a set of techniques and patterns of thought which have been cultivated and transmitted, and which as such must have arisen, must have had origins, in human activity. Thus science has a history. This fact would be of little import if the past of science or of any cultural configuration were merely behind and extraneous to its present. But surely this supposition is false. For do we not know tha!t the historical present comes out of the historical past, and contains this derivation implicitly in itself? Is it not so in the case of languages, customs, laws, and indeed of every cultural achievement? And does not this fact point to a possibility-the possibility that tradition may allow itself to be questioned; that it is not necessary merely to live within a tradition, accepting it as a matter of course, or to set oneself up blindly as nihilist, rejecting traditions which have formed us? To follow up this line of inquiry in the case of the scienc.es is to refer scientific knowledge to the generating �December 1970 and producing activities of the mind; it is to attempt to discern how objective science came to be, how it must have stepped into history as a human production. The history which is in question here is not primarily factual hi&tory; and indeed the factual origins of the idea of objective science are irrecoverably lost. The concern is rather with general and necessary truths about the way in which this idea came to be there for human beings; and these truths are implicit in the mode of being of science in the living present. Do we nat know, for instance, this simple truth that science is transmitted from generation to generation, from teacher to learner, and that at the same time it is continually broadened, with the achievement of new results? And in this process is it not manifest that there is a continual synthesis, an incorporation of new results with prior re- sults to form a totality; and that at any time the entire achievement becomes the total premise for further results? Do we not know, further, that this history must have had a beginning; that there must have been a moment in time when a man of the past for the first time grasped, in full awareness, a truth as being there in its own right, as being evident, as constituting knowledge which was self-justifying and capable of indefinite expansion? Each science is thus related to an open chain of generations of investigators, working with one another and for one another. For the later investigators, the earlier acquisitions or results are not, in general, grasped in the same way as they were by the original discoverer in the original act of discovering. They have become embodied in speech and writing; and indeed in no other way could they be objectively and self-identically there, as ideal objects, for Everyman, for every real or possible investigator of every place and of every future time. Also, it is their embodiment in speech and writing which allows them to be used as stepping-stones to further results, stepping-stones in a deductive development. But these advantages bring with them a seduction. The sounds of speech and the signs of writing, these indefin;tely repeatable sensible forms of the embodiment of the ideal objects of knowledge, are, for the most part, taken in passively, in an unreal way, because they are given in the sphere of trust which is language. This seduction is a kind of forgetting, a lapsing of the originally active grasp of evidence, which nevertheless permits the deductive process to proceed. Thus GaliJ.eo and Kepler, and we also, can acCept the geometry of Euclid as a self-contained science, with no roots or foundations outside itself; we have lost sight of its beginnings, of the idealizing activities whiCh, starting from the vaguely typical objects of experience, and the rules of thumb in the practical arts, produced a universe of ideal entities among which exact and necessary relations hold. Can the original evidence be regained, reactivated? Can we, for instance, rediscover the original meaning of objec- tive knowledge, science, as present to the mind of the man who first envisaged its possibility? I would claim that this unidentifiable man is not totally unknown to us. He lived, no doubt, in an already developed cultural world. Like his contemporaries and like all men, he had first lived naively within that world, which he had then taken for granted and accepted unquestionably as reality. It was a magico-religious world, thoroughly imbued with meaning, with a traditional meaning bestowed on it by the members of the community whose world it was. All activities there were traditional, and were undertaken for the sake of living and making one's way about in this limitedly meaningful world. Even cognitive activities would there be motivated by, and essentially related to practical human interests. The notions of knowledge, truth, and error, would be understood only in relation to the specific world belonging to the community. Speculative activities would occur only within a finite horizon. Some moment; for some man, was a moment of emer~ gence from this limited world. It was, if we are to believe Plato and Aristotle, a moment characterized by wonder. And indeed, to wonder is to suspend praotical activity, it is to adopt the attitude of the detached, onlooking observer. And in the attitude of wonder there arises the conception of Being, Being-as-it-really-is-in-itself, a conception standing in contrast to the limited world belonging to a specific human community. Also, and correlative to this conception, there arises the idea of objective science, or knowledge of being, episteme, standing in contrast to the opinion, doxa, by which men relate themselves to their traditional and everyday world. This moment is a disclosure of unlimited horizons. For the idea of episteme is an ideal norm, an ideal limit with respect to every cognitive endeavor. The grasping of any single truth will henceforth be regarded as a transitional phase within an infinite process oriented towards this ideal limitepisteme as finally accomplished. The rise of this idea in Greek Antiquity marks the appearance in history of a new type of man who in all his finitude assumes an infinite task. To belong to this tradition is less a glory than a responsibi1ity. To seek to uncover its original meaning is an essential step toward the discovery of what we are. Curtis A. Wilson became a Tutor at St. John's College in 1948. He was Dean of the College from 1958 to 1962. From 1964 to 1966 he was a member of the Faculty of the College at Santa Fe. In 1966 he became a Professor in the History of Science with the Depar,tment of History of the University of California, San Diego, at La Jolla. The laboratory science and preceptorial programs at the College owe much to his efforts. He is the author of William Heytesbury, Medieval Logic and the Rise of Mathematical Physics, University of Wisconsin Press, 1956; "Kepler's Derivation of the Elliptical Path," Isis, No. 59, 1968; and "From Kepler's Laws, So-ca11ed, to Universal Gravitation: Empirical Factors," in the Archive for History of Exact Sciences, SpringerVerlag, VoL 6, No.2, 1970, pp. 89-170. He is currently engaged in a study of astronomy and physics from Kepler to Newton. 11 �The Myth of Virgil's Aeneid* By JACOB KLEIN It is impossible to read the Aeneid without being constetntly reminded of the Iliad and the Odyssey. Nor can one read the Aeneid without becoming aware that the poem intends to glorify Rome and Rome's imperial and pacifying power under Caesar Octavian Augustus. All of you, I think, and also all Virgil commentators agree on these points. Let me quote two ancient ones. Servius, 4th century A.D., has this to say: "This is Virgil's purpose: to imitate Homer and to praise Augustus in the light of his ancestors" (Intentio Vergilii l1aec est, Homerum imitari et Augustum laudare a parentibus). Macrobius, 5th century, explains: Virgil held his eyes intently upon Homer in order to emulate not only Homer's greatness but also the simplicity and power of his diction and its quiet majesty. Hence the multifarious magnificence of the various personages among his heroes; hence the intervention of the gods; hence the weight of mythical details; hence the natural way of expressing passions; hence the tracing back of the origin of monuments; hence the elevation of his metaphors; hence the ringing sound of his rolling diction; hence the climactic splendor of single incidents. This "sweet imitation," says Macrobius, leads Virgil to the point of even imitating Homer's vices. We have to note that these ancient commentators attribute to Virgil a double purpose: not only is it his intention to praise Augustus, his imitation of Homer is, according to them, also an end in itself. Let me give you a series of examples of what these commentators call Virgil's imitation of Homer. I shall quote, in an English version, lines from the Iliad and the Odyssey and corresponding lines, again in an English version from the Aeneid. Odyss. XII, 403: "But when we left that island and no other land appeared, but only sky and sea, then verily the son of Kronos set a black cloud above the hollow ship, and the sea grew dark beneath it." Aen. III, 192: "After *A lecture given at St. John's College in Annapolis on February 25, 1966. 12 our ships gained the deep, and now no longer any land is seen, but sky on all sides and on all sides sea, then a murky rain-cloud loomed overhead, bringing night and tempest, while the wave shuddered darkling." This is repeated in Aen. V, 8. (Note that Virgil does not mention Zeus, the son of Kronos.) Iliad VIII, 16: "Tartaros ... as far beneath Hades as heaven is high above the earth." Aen. VI, 578: "While Tartarus' self gapes with abrupt descent and stretches twice as far, down through the shades, as the heavenward gazing eye looks up to Olympus and the firmament." (Note the change from a one to one ratio to a two to one ratio.) Iliad VI, 305: Theano, wife of Antenor, priestess of Athene in Troy, prays "Lady Athene, that dost guard our city, fairest among goddesses, break now the spear of Diomedes, and grant furthermore that himself may fall headlong before the Scaean gates." Aen. XI, 483: The Latin matrons implore Juno: "0 mighty in arms, mistress in war, Tritonian maid, break with thine hand the spear of the Phrygian pirate [that is, of Aeneas], hurl him prone to earth and stretch him prostrate beneath our lofty gates." Iliad I, 234: Achilles swears, in enmity towards Agamemnon: "verily by this staff, that shall no more put forth leaves or shoots since at the first it left its stump among the mountains, neither shall it again grow green ...." Aen. XII, 206: Latinus swears, in friendship towards Aeneas: "even as this scepter shall never again be dressed in light foliage and put forth branch and shade, since once in the forest it was hewn from the nether stem . ..." Iliad XVI, 249: "So spake he [Achilles] in prayer, and Zeus, the counsellor, heard him, and a part the Father granted him, and a part denied." Aen. XI, 794: "Phoebus heard [the prayer of Arruns about Camilla], and in thought vouchsafed that part of his vow should prosper; the other part he scattered to the flying breezes." Iliad IV, 122: "And he [Pandarus] drew the bow, clutching at once the notched arrow and the string of ox's sinew: the string he brought to his breast and to the bow the iron arrow-head. But when he had drawn the great bow into a round, the bow twanged and the string sang aloud, and the keen arrow leapt" (namely towards Menelaus who is not killed). Aen. XI, 858: The goddess �December 1970 Opis, sent by Diana, "drew the fleet arrow from the golden quiver, stretched the bow with grim intent, and drew it afar, till the curving ends met each with other, and at length, with levelled hands, she touched the pointed steel with her left, her breast with her right and with the bowstring." (She aims at Arruns who is killed.) Odyss. XI, 206: "Thrice I [Odysseus] sprang towards her [his mother J, and my heart bade me clasp her, and thrice she flitted from my arms like a shadow or a dream, and pain grew ever sharper at my heart." Aen. VI, 699: "Thrice, where he [Aeneas] stood, he assayed to throw his arms round his neck [his father's neck]: thrice the phantom fled through the hands that clutched in vain, light as the winds and fleet as the pinions of sleep." But we can also read in the second book of the Aeneid, verse 792: "Thrice, then I [Aeneas] strove to throw my arms round her neck [the neck of Aeneas's wife's shadow]: thrice the form, that I clasped in vain, fled through my hands, light as the winds and fleet as the pinions of sleep." Odyss. XIX, 562: "For two are the gates of shadowy dreams, and one is fashioned of horn and one of ivory. Those dreams that pass through the gate of sawn ivory deceive men, bringing words that find no fulfilment. But those that come forth through the gate of polished horn bring true issues to pass, when any mortal sees them." (Penelope is saying these words.) Aen. VI, 892: "There are two gates of Sleep :-of horn, fame tells, the one through which the spirits of truth find an easy passage; the other, wrought smooth-gleaming with sheen of ivory, but false the shades that the nether powers speed therefrom to the heaven above." (Virgil, the author, is saying this.) These examples can be multipled many, many times. There would be no point for me to continue quoting. But let us take notice of the fact that there is almost always some weighty difference embedded in the otherwise completely analogous phrasing and imagery. However the similarity between the Iliad and the Odyssey on the one hand and the Aeneid on the other goes far beyond phrasing and imagery. Let me give you another series of examples of what is called Virgil's imitation of Homer. When Odysseus arrives in Ithaca, Pallas Athene fills the countryside with mist so that Odysseus cannot recognize it. When Aeneas arrives in Carthage, Venus conveys him in a cloud so that nobody can see him. Before meeting with Penelope Odysseus is beautified by Pallas Athene. Before meeting Dido Aeneas is beautified by Venus. A young man, Elpenor, falls from the roof of Circe's house; Odysseus sees his shade in Hades and buries the corpse when he returns to the light of the day. The pilot of Aeneas' fleet, Palinurus, falls from his ship and is subsequently killed by· a barbarous tribe; his shade is seen by Aeneas in the nether world and his corpse buried later on. Diomedes and Odysseus, two seasoned warriors, engage in a spying mission at night, kill a quantity of Trojans and bring their enterprise to a successful and glorious end. Nisus and Euryalus, two young men, try to break through the enemy lines at night, kill a quantity of Latins and die gloriously but unsuccessfully at the end. The shade of Ajax keeps a contemptuous silence when facing Odysseus in Hades. So does the shade of Dido when confronted by Aeneas in the nether world. In point of fact, innumerable episodes in the Aeneid have their analogues in the Iliad or the Odyssey. There are exceptions, as, for instance, the diverse prophecies addressed to Aeneas, the transformation of the Trojan ships into mermaids in Book IX and the role of the warrior maid Camilla. Camilla has her analogue, however, in Penthesilea who, although not to be found in Homer, appears in many classical Greek texts and is mentioned by Virgil himself (I, 491). There is parallelism between Menelaus, Paris, and Helen on the one hand, and Turnus, Aeneas and Lavinia on the other, whatever the difference between these personages and their relationships. There is parallelism between Achilles and Patroklos on the one hand, and Aeneas and Pallas on the other, again whatever the difference betwen these pairs. To the catalogue of ships in the second book of the Iliad corresponds the catalogue of the Latin armies in the seventh book of the Aeneid. To the funeral games in honor of Patroklos correspond the games in honor of Anchises. Three times does Achilles circle the city of Priam in hot pursuit of Hector, while Aeneas covers five circles on the plain around the city of Latinus in hot pursuit of Turnus. To the shield of Achilles fashioned by Hephaistos upon the insistence of Achilles's mother corresponds the shield of Aeneas fashioned by Vulcan upon the insistence of Aeneas's mother. But the difference here is 13 �The College great: on Achilles's shield are moulded Heaven and Earth, Peace and War, Marriage and Litigation, Work and Leisure, and all the bounties of the earth; on Aeneas's shield are shown the glorious deeds of the Romans culmi·nating in Octavian's victory at Actium. What is the significance of this persistent and detailed, yet unfaithful "imitation"? In other poems, written before the Aeneid, especially in the Bucolics, Virgil also imitated his Greek predecessors, especially Theocritus, But this imitation involved only the general pattern, the general mood and style of the poems and hardly any of their details. The tradition tells us that Virgil, in his younger years, conceived the plan to write an epic poem devoted to the glory of Rome but that he gave up that plan hecause he found the task too difficult. In his later years he took it up again, prodded by Augustus, perhaps, and worked on the Aeneid for eleven years-until his death. It is in this period that what is called his imitation of Homer flourished supremely. The question we face is just this: why was it necessary for Virgil to imitate Homer to the extent he did? The ancient commentators I quoted in the beginning were late commentators. Their opinion that one of the purposes of the poem was the imitation of Homer and their implied opinion that such an undertaking was in itself praiseworthy were not shared by Virgil's contemporaries, we are told. His contemporaries re~ proached him for borrowing too much from Homer. Virgil is reported to have answered them, proudly and enigmatically, that it was easier to steal from Neptune his trident and from Hercules his club than to steal a verse from Homer. What did he mean by that? Let us go back to the unquestionable purpose of the Aeneid. It is the praise of Augustus and the projection of an exalted vision of the Roman world. What is the background of this praise and this projection? The answer is: a century of civil disorders and wars, beginning in 133 B.C., after the end of the Punic and Spanish wars, and a passionate and widespread desire for peace. Peace is finally restored by Octavian in the year 31. Let me quote from a modern critic, Edward Kennard Rand: "To Virgil's contemporaries, hardly any religious or political event could have had a more spectacular importance than the closing of Janus' temple [which act signified peace] twice in the reign of Augustus, once after the victory of Actium [over Antony] and once in the year 25 ... Only once be- 14 fore in all Roman history had this happy event occurred, namely, at the completion of the First Punic War." This peace is based on Roman rule under Caesar Augustus. And the origin of this Roman rule is the great subject of Virgil's epic endeavor. But how to attack so vast a subject? Let us understand Virgil's predicament. We, today, have an easy way of dealing with such a subject. To praise deeds or events, we call them "historical." We say: an historical meeting or an historical battle took place on such or such a day. In saying this we mean to pay tribute to the importance of that meeting or that battle. The adjective "historical" is used as a superlative which confers to an event a transcendent rank and the laurel of undying glory. But to Virgil-and not to him alone-the medium of praise is not History but Myth. For only the glowing light of a myth is able to illuminate the intrinsic unintelligibility of human deeds and sufferings. To write an epic poem on the grandeur of Rome means, therefore, to construct a myth. To use a Greek word familiar to Virgil, it means to p.vOo1rou:.Zv. Most myths are anonymous. They are there, filling, mirror-like, the horizon of human lives with splendid or dark or sometimes terrifying figures that bring to pass wondrous and awesome events. But there are also myths attached to names, to names of "mythmakers/' as, for example, to Homer, to Hesiod, to Plato. Can one compete with these mythmakers? Can one invent "new" myths? In fact, did those mythmakers I have just mentioned invent theirs? Did they not merely imitate or modify or transpose myths in existence long before them, just as the Greek tragedians did? How, then, shall Virgil go about it? Virgil has before him a plethora of legends related to various sites and monuments in Rome and Italy. The legend of Aeneas himself, of Aeneas the Trojan, the source of Roman stock, is well known in Roman lands. Can these legends lend themselves to form the nucleus of the myth Virgil is after? Must not other myths be taken into consideration? Virgil himself seems to have cherished the myth of the succession of the ages of mankind. Let us consider this myth briefly. Hesiod tells it in his Works and Days. Five generations of men have so far succeeded each other: first the golden one, in Kronos's time, when men lived as if they were gods, abundantly, without hard work or pain, without suffering from old age; then the gods created the second generation, �December 1970 of silver, far worse than the first, shortlived, troublesome, lacking piety; then came the age of bronze, when men were terrible and strong, destroying each other; then Zeus created the fourth generation of hero-men, who are also called half-gods; they besieged seven-gated Thebes and fought before Troy for the sake of lovely-haired Helen; those who did not perish in carnage and war were settled by Zeus in the islands of the blessed, at the extreme end of the world, with Kronos, freed from bondage, as their k;ng; finally carne the age of iron, in which we live now, in which the sense of right and wrong has been almost entirely lost, in which force reigns and vengeance and weariness; but Zeus will destroy this generation of mortals also. This story of the ages of men can also be found ill the Book of Daniel, supposedly written some hundred years before Virgil and in all probability unknown to him, but still symptomatic for the myth's universality and influence. In the second chapter of this book Daniel interprets a dream King Nebuchadnezzar had had. According to this interpretation the kingdom of Nebuchadnezzar is the kingdom of gold, of power and strength and glory; it will be succeeded by another, presumably of silver, which in turn will be followed by a kingdom of brass; then will come a fourth kingdom, that of iron and clay, in which kingdom men "shall not cleave one to another, even as iron is not mixed with clay"; at last the God of heaven will set up a kingdom which will stand forever. So much, then, for the myth of the ages of mankind. But Virgil also knew the oriental and Greek doctrines of the Great Year. The Great Year is the time it takes for all stars and all planets to return to the same position, with respect to us, that they once occupied. This time constitutes an age, an alWv. Once this age reaches its completion, a palingenesis occurs and a new aiWv begins, identical with the pr-eceding one. This doctrine was also preserved in the collection of oracles of the Cumaean Sibyl, which oracles constitute the books of Sibylline songs widely diffused among the people. The cycle of cosmic life, the al~v, was divided into ten great months. The end of each of these months and the transition into a new one was supposed to be announced by a celestial sign. The sun grew pale after the murder of Julius Caesar, and it is reported that the apparition of a comet during the funeral honors rendered to the victim was interpreted by a soothsayer to ;ndicate the end of the ninth cosmic month and the beginning of the tenth. Some amalgamation between the doctrine of cosmic cycles and the myth of the four or five ages of mankind must have occurred in the course of time. Each cycle repeats the succession of ages, from the golden to the iron one. We witness this in Virgil's fourth Eclogue in the Bucolics, which, I hope, most of you have read. Let me quote a few lines from it: "Now is come the last age of the song of Cumae; the great line of the centuries begins anew. Now the Virgin too returns, the reign of Saturn returns; now a new generation descends from heaven on high." The Virgin is Astraea or Justice, last of the immortals to leave the earth. The eclogue is addressed and dedicated to Asinius Pollio, a patron of Virgil, who was elected consul in the year 41 and phyed a decisive role in the reconciliation between the two mighty leaders, Marc Antony and Octavian, at Brundisium in the year 40. But the emphasis in the eclogue is on a child "in whom the iron brood shall first cease and a golden race spring up throughout the world." The new age shall begin in the consulship of Pollio and the mighty months will then commence their march. The babe shall have the gift of divine life and rule over a world pacified through his father's virtues. His cradle shall pour forth flowers for his delight. Goats will come to the milking unbidden and the ox lie down with the lion. "On wild brambles shall hang the purple grape, and the stubborn oak shall distil dewy honey." The serpent will be no more, and the false poison-plant perish. Any lingering traces of human crime shall gradually disappear. In the beginning these traces will still be visible-in sailings across the seas, in the building of walls around towns, in the cleaving of the earth with furrows. Another Argo shall be manned to seek the golden fleece, "and again shall a great Achilles be sent to Troy." But when the child will have become a man, the trader shall quit the sea, ... every land shall bear all fruits .... The earth shall not feel the harrow, nor the vine the pruning hook; the sturdy ploughman, too, shall now loose his oxen from the yoke. Wools shall no more Jearn to counterfeit varied hues, but of himself the ram in the meadows shall change his fleece, now to sweetly blushing purple, now to saffron yellow; of its own will shall scarlet clothe the grazing lambs. 15 �The College of the myth of rebirth which tells of the return of the days of Saturn, of the golden age, after completion of a cosmic cycle and the beginning of a new alwv. Aeneas will land on Saturnian soil, in Latium. King Latinus, who rules "over lands and towns in the calm of a long peace" and himself descends from Saturn, will tell Aeneas, an offspring of Jupiter: "be not unaware that the Latins are Saturn's race, righteous not by bond or laws, but self-controlled of their own free will and by the custom of their ancient god." Evander, the "good man," king of the Arcadians, who is going to ally himself with Aeneas at precisely the spot where Rome shall stand, will recount to Aeneas the origins of Saturnian rule: This prophetic poem is written in a dark and oracular vein, imitating, perhaps, the Sibylline songs. The identity of the child has remained a controversial subject among scholars. The preponderant opinion tends to recognize in the child a son of Asinius Pollio. Christian interpreters considered the fourth Eclogue as a prophecy of the Messiah, saw in the child Jesus, the Christ, and in Virgil a pagan Isaiah. Not by chance does Virgil play the role of Dante's guide and mentor in Hell and Purgatory. It is conceivable that the Sibylline oracles, re·assembled after the genuine ones had burned with the Capitol in the year 83, might have contained some Jewish oracles reflecting the spirit and the substance of Isaiah's prophecy and that Virgil might have experienced their spell. What seems indubitable is that the fourth Eclogue expresses the overwhelming longing for a New Beginning, a new age of Peace. The mythical idea of the completion of a cosmic cycle and of a return to the happy days of Kronos, the days of Saturn, seems ever-present to Virgil's mind. We thus perceive the factors which determine the composition of the Aeneid devoted to the glories of Rome and to the bounties of Peace under the aegis of Caesar Augustus. The legend of the Trojan hero Aeneas, the ancestor of Roman power, would become part and parcel 16 In these woodlands the native Fauns and Nymphs once dwelt, and a race of men sprung from trunks of trees and hardy oak, who had no rule nor art of life, and knew not how to yoke the ox or to lay up stores, or to husband their gains; but tree branches nurtmed them and the huntsman's savage fare. First from heavenly Olympus came Saturn, fleeing from the weapons of J and exiled from his lost realm. He gathave ered together the unruly race, scattered over mountain heights, and gave them laws, and chose that the land be called Latium, since in these borders he had found a safe hiding-place [from the Latin verb latere ]. Under his reign were the golden ages men tell of: in such perfect peace he ruled the nations; till little by little then crept in a race of worse sort and duller hue, the frenzy of war, and the passion for gain. And before the final triumph of Aeneas, Juno, Aeneas's implacable enemy, will yield to destiny, but will request this from Jove: "command not the native Latins to change their ancient name, nor to become Trojans and be called . Teucrians, nor to change their tongue and alter their attire: let Latium be, let Alban kings .endure through ages, let be a Roman stock, strong in Italian valour: fallen is Troy, and fallen let her be, together with her name." Jove will grant Juno's wish, and Rome's future will be secure. Under Caesar Augustus the reign of peace will begin anew. But is all this sufficient to account for the composition of the great Roman epic poem? Is this tl1e myth of the Aeneid? Have we not overlooked a crucial point in the very conception of the poem, to wit, that the epic poem itself, while embodying a myth, cannot help reflecting the age it belongs to? But are not the great cosmic cycles, the alwv", identical? Do not in each of them the Argo, and Troy, and Caesar reappear? It is with respect to this point that a Platonic myth becomes of utmost importance to Virgil. It can be found in Plato's dialogue The Statesman. The interlocutors in this dialogue are the Stranger from Elea and a young man, a namesake of Socrates. The �December 1970 Stranger tells the myth: During a certain epoch god himself goes with the universe as guide in its revolving course, but at another epoch, when the cycles have at length reached the measure of the allotted time, he lets it go, and of its own accord it turns backwards in the opposite direction, since it is a living being and is endowed with intelligence by him who fashioned it in the beginning. Thus, we read further, "the universe is guided at one time by an extrinsic divine cause, acquiring the power of living again and receiving renewed immortality from the divine artisan, and at another time it is left to itself and then moves by its own motion ...." Young Socrates asks: "But was the life in the reign of Kronos ... in that previous period of revolution or in ours?" The Stranger answers: No, the life about which you ask, when all the fruits of the earth sprang up of their own accord for men, did not belong at all to the present period of revolution, but this also belonged to the previous one. For them, in the beginning, god ruled and supervised the whole revolution, and so again, in the same way, all the parts of the universe were divided by regions among gods who ruled them, and, moreover, the animals were distributed by species and flocks among inferior deities as divine shepherds, each of whom was in all respect the independent guardian of the The Stranger summarizes his tale in the following way: Now as long as the world was nurturing the animals within itself under the guidance of the Pilot, it produced little evil and great good; but in becoming separated from him it always got on most excellently during the time immediately after it was let go, but as time went on and it grew forgetful, the ancient condition of disorder prevailed more and more and towards the end of the time reached its height, and the universe, mingling but little good with much of the opposite sort, was in danger of destruction for itself and those within it. Therefore at that moment the god, who made the order of the universe, perceived that it was in dire trouble, and fearing that it might founder in the tempest of confusion and sink in the boundless sea of diversity, he took again his place as its helmsman, reversed whatever had become unsound and unsettled in the previous period when the world was left to itself, set the world in order, restored it and made it immortal and ageless. This is the myth of the Stranger in Plato's Statesman, of which I have read to you only a small part. It changes the old myth of the cosmic cycles, which repeat themselves and remain identical, in a significant way. Dia- grammatically this can be shown as follows: Old pattern: creatures under his own care, so that no creature was wild, nor did they eat one another, and there was no war among them, nor any strife whatso- ever. The Stranger goes on to describe how god himself was the shepherd of man in that age. And under his care there were no states, nor did men possess wives or children; for they all came to life again out of the earth, with no recollection of their former lives. So there were no states or families, but they had fruits in plenty from the tr·ees and other plants, which the earth furnished them of its own accord, without help from agriculture. And they lived for the most part in the open air, without clothing or bedding; for the climate was tempered for their comfort, and the abundant grass that grew up out of the earth furnished them soft couches. That, Socrates, was the life of men in the reign of Kronos; but the life of the present age, which is said to be the age of Zeus, you know by your own experi·ence. Pia tonic pattern: C7 CJ The identity of the cycles in the Platonic pattern is, as it were, intermittent. And the reversal of the direction can be best seen at the beginnings of two consecutive cycles. What is important for us to see is this: to be able to accomplish his work, Virgil has to adopt this Platonic myth and to disregard its highly comical and self-refuting context. This adoption determines the composition of the Aeneid and, by implication, Virgil's true relation to Homer. The age of Homer is the age of Zeus, an age characterized by calamitous expeditions, disastrous wars, anarchical diversity. Its beginning is reflected in the Iliad and the Odyssey, its climax reached in the Punic wars. The content of the Homeric poems has to be understood as a derived one. What underlies this content is the reversal of the preceding age of Kronos. Virgil's epic of Rome will have to reverse this reversal. It cannot avoid reproducing the main features and the single episodes of the Greek work, but it will reverse their order, shift the emphasis in them, exchange the nature and the role of the leading per- 17 �The College sonages; for the age of Jove is but a mirror-image of the age of Saturn. Does that mean that Virgil is bound to imitate Homer? No, on the contrary, it is Homer who cacnnot help imitating Virgil or, if you please, cannot help imitating the epic poet of the preceding Saturnian age, who is identical with Virgil. That is why there has to be so much unfaithful resemblance between the Aeneid and Homer's work. Virgil's own relation to the epic poem of the preceding age constitutes, it seems to me, Virgil's myth of the Aeneid. This is what he must have meant when he declared that it was easier to steal the club of Hercules and the trident of Neptune than to steal a verse from Homer. A poet of the god-led Saturnian age is incapable of stealing verses from a Javian poet, however excellent this Jovian poet may be. It might be objected that the Platonic myth, as a Greek myth, adopted by Virgil, is itself a product of the Jovian age. I venture to think that Virgil considered words of sages, words of philosophers as not subjugated to the dominion of the age in which these words were uttered, just as Tartarus and Elysium are outside the sway of the ages. It may be worth while to report to you what an unknown hand has inscribed into a manuscript of Donatus's Lite of Virgil (Donatus himself wrote in the fourth century A.D.): "... although he [Virgil] seems to have put the opinions of diverse philosophers into his writings with most serious intent, he himself was a devotee of the Academy; for he preferred Plato's views to all the others." Let me sketch briefly the way the reversal of the J avian order is accomplished in Virgil's poem. First of all, the Odyssey precedes the Iliad here, as every commentator since Servius has remarked. But, as we shall see in a moment, the first six books, which correspond to the Odyssey, still belong to the old Homeric age. When Aeneas and his men arrive in Carthage, they face a basrelief on the temple of Juno which depicts the Trojan war and all the events described in the Iliad. Their past is before them. But this past also casts a shadow on Aeneas's sojourn in Carthage. Aeneas falls in love wi-th Dido, who corresponds to both Calypso and Circe and resembles both Medea and Cleopatra. Aeneas's passion for this woman shows his lingering affinity to the Javian age, to which Carthage itself, Rome's eternal foe, belongs. A violent separation from Dido becomes necessary, a separation consummated only in Elysium, when the golden bough, the gift to Proserpine, is planted by Aeneas on the threshold of the land of joy, the abode of the blest in the nether world. There, in Elysium, Aeneas sees the shade of his father, while Odysseus, in Hades, meets the shade of his mother. There Aeneas is shown by Anehises the future of Rome, while Odysseus, in Hades, is told of the past and the present, except for the prophecy of the seer Teiresias. When Aeneas is leaving Elysium, a decisive event occurs, challenging our imagination. I quoted earlier the passage in the 19th book of the Odyssey and the corresponding 18 passage at the end of the 6th book of the Aeneid about the two gates of sleep, one of horn through which true dreams pass and one of ivory through which false visions and shades issue forth. Anchises dismisses the Sibyl and Aeneas by the ivory gate (porta que emittit eburna). How shall we understand these words? Is Aeneas, the pious Aeneas, led on by divine power, a false dream? Is the grandeur of Rome, Aeneas's treasure and burden, a melancholy illusion? Or do not these words, uttered at the very center of the poem, rather symbolize a cosmic reversal in the structure of the universe, marking the transition from the age of Jove to the reign of Saturn? In Greek, the words for "horn" and for "ivory'' are attuned to the mean~ ing of "fulfilment" and of "deception." Not so in Latin. Aeneas emerges from the nether world a changed man. A re-birth has taken place. His passing through the gate of ivory transmutes its function. From now on the poem changes its character, too. As the poet himself says: "Greater is the order of things that opens before me; greater is the task I essay." The task is greater indeed. The poem has to describe the beginning of the golden age. This beginning is marred by the inherited features of the preceding one, the iron one. Violence and fury will display themselves. -Under Turnus's leadership, Amata's predilections and Juno's help, the Latins and their allies will oppose the Trojans, aided by the Arcadians and Etruscans. A new Trojan war will rage in a reversed order. This time it will end with the victory of Aeneas, the new Hector, over Turnus, the new Achilles. After this victory there will be reconciliation between the Trojans and the Latins according to the terms agreed on by Jove and Juno. There will be reconciliation between Jove and Saturn, too. From then on Rome will begin its tumultuous ascent, until she reaches the height of Augustean peace. The tradition has it that Virgil, when he had finished (or almost finished) writing the Aeneid, wanted to burn all he had written. Augustus himself is said to have prevented this from happening. We may surmise that Virgil knew this much about his myth: its truth depended on the actual destiny of Rome. And, prophet that he was, he foresaw the future pax romana, the future Roman peace, more often than not immersed in a sea of corruption, of monstrous crimes and dismal anarchy. We should be grateful to Augustus, though. For even if the gate of ivory may have preserved its Homeric character, the nobility of Virgil's attempt and the boldness of his mythical VISIOn make us bow our heads and raise our minds. Jacob Klein has been a Tutor at St. John's College, Annapolis, since 1938. He was Dean of the College from 1949 to 1958. He received his Ph.D. degree from the University of Marburg, Germany. He is the author of Greek Mathematical Thought and the Origin of Algebra (translated from the German), Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 1968; and A Commentary on Plato's Meno, University of North Carolina Press, 1965. His "Introduction to Aristotle" may be found in Ancients and Moderns, Basic Books, 1964. �NEWS ON THE CAMPUSES SANTA FE STUDENT CENTER NAMED IN HoNOR OF PETERSONS TI1e student center of St. John's in Santa Fe has been named the Peterson Student Center in honor of Mrs. Clemenhne Peterson of Baltimore and her late husband, Duane L. Peterson. President Weigle and members of the Board of Visitors and Governors participated in the unveiling of a plaque on the building on October 2nd honoring the Petersons for their services to the College. Mrs. Peterson came from Baltimore to attend the program on the Santa Fe campus. Before his death in 1963, Mr. Peterson was Chairman of the Board of Peterson, Howell & Heather, Inc., director and member of the Baltimore National Bank, and director of the Industrial Corporation of Baltimore. He was president of the Baltimore Association of Commerce in 1952-54, and he was a member of the Executive Committee of the Greater Baltimore Committee, Inc., in 1959-61. In the area of education 1 he was Vice President of the Association of Independent Colleges in Maryland, a trustee of Boys' Latin School, a trustee of Ripon College, and a member of the Board of St. John's College. Mrs. Peterson is making a gift of $1.25 million to St. John's College over a period of years to cover most of the cost of the student center, which houses the main library, dining hall, auditorium, coffee shop, art gallery, music room, and student and faculty lounges. The building was part of the first construction at Santa Fe in 1964. However, donations at that time fell short of the amount needed, so it was necessary for the college to borrow money to pay for the construction. About $539,000 of the $2 million construction cost has been repaid. Mrs. President Weigle shakes hands with Mrs. Clementine Peterson of Baltimore after ceremonies naming the student center in Santa Fe the "Peterson Student Center" in honor of Mrs. Peterson and her late husband Duane L. Peterson, both former Board members. Peterson's gift will enable the college to pay most of the remaining debt, President Weigle said. "No member of the Board of Visitors and Governors has been more faithful in attendance and in activity on the College's behalf," Mr. Weigle said of Mrs. Peterson at the plaque unveiling. ~~H.er keen interest in young people and in education has made her an ideal member and chairman of the College's Visiting Committee. Now, her exceedingly generous gift of this building attests to her interest in education, her commitment to St. John's College and its educational philosophy, and her confidence in this and future generations of young people. She wished to make the gift in honor of her husband, Duane, but we have finally prevailed upon her to allow the Board to name the building in honor of both Duane and Clementine Peterson. This is most appropriate since in our mind and hearts they are inseparable in their dedication and their service to this College." With Mrs. Peterson at the ceremony were her niece, Mrs. Lowell S. Peterson of Arcadia, California, and her children Duane L. II and Mary Gay. In 1968 Mrs. Peterson established the Duane L. Peterson Scholarships for outstanding juniors at St. John's. 19 �The College CAMPUS NOTES Ford K. Brown and John S. Kieffer were elected honorary alumni during Homecoming activities in Annapolis. Mr. and Mrs. Wiley Crawford are now living at 964 Old Santa Fe Trail in Sant" Fe, New Mexico 87501. Mrs. Mary P. Felter, Annapolis director of public information, was chosen to appear in the 1970 edition of Outstanding Young Women in America. One of 6,000 young women who contribute to the betterment of their communities, professions, and country, she is a graduate of the University of Maryland whose Alumni Association nominated her for the award. Charles E. Finch is the Annapolis director of financial aids and placement. Robert A. Goldwin, Annapolis dean, is editing a book ·entitled How Democratic is America: Responses to the New Left Challenges to be published by Rand McNally in the spring of 1971. (See also alumni news.) Edwin Hopkins was co-chairman of the United Fund campaign on the Annapolis campus. David C. Jones and Mary Modrall Burckmyer were married in Santa Fe on Saturday, September 5th. Aaron Kirschbaum and Danielle Doyon-Dugal were married in Annapolis on Thursday, September 17th. Thomas McDonald is on leave of absence for 1970-71. Robert A. N eidorf, director of the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education in Santa Fe, discussed his Santa Fe commencement address with members of the Center for the Study of Democratic Institutions in Santa Barbara, California, on October 9th. In his talk, entitled "The Future and the Past," he remarked that this country is endangered because many of its leaders and young people lack "a sense of history." Mr. and Mrs. John Sarkissian became the parents of a daughter, Julia Araxie Shahan, on Saturday, September 19th. Mrs. Virginia Schenck is a resident 20 head of Humphreys Hall, replacing Mrs. Virginia West who accepted a position with Kirkland Hall College on Maryland" s E a s t e r n Shore. Mrs. Schenck is the mother of alumnus Peter B. Schenck. Robert L. Spaeth, assistant dean in Annapolis and city councilman, was elected to the Maryhmd State Central Committee of the Democratic Party on Tuesday, September 15th. Cornell University recently published Xenophon's Socratic Discourse: An Interpretation of The Oeconomicus, by Leo Strauss, Scott Buchanan Scholar in Residence in Annapolis. The book is available through the College bookstores. SANTA FE STARTS CONSTRUCTION ON NEW OFFICE BUILDING Construction has started at Santa Fe on the ''Tower Building/' which should help the College meet its needs for classroom and residential space. The new three-story structure will provide room for offices, supplies, and a section of the library, which are now taking up space in Evans Science Hall and a women's residence building. Gifts and pledges have been received from private foundations and individuals to cover the building costs and related expenses. Sewell and Stanton President Weigle (right) shows a model of the proposed new administration bui1ding at Santa Fe to Mrs. Walter B. Driscoll, Board chairman, and Vice-President J. Burchenal Ault. 111ey are standing at the construction site at the foot of Monte Sol. Photo by Lynne Waugh. General Contractors of Santa Fe submitted the low bid of $499,975 for construction. William R. Buckley of Santa Fe is the architect. The building, in modified territorial-style, will include a portal and a bell tower. There will be 18,700 square feet of floor space. The contractor expects to complete construction befor.e the opening of the 1971 fall term. Gifts and pledges received for the new building include $125,000 from the Fleischmann Foundation, Reno, Nevada; $100,000 from the Kresge Foundation, Detroit, Michigan; real estate from John Murchison of Dallas valued at $200,000; $125,000 from a member of the Board; $25,000 in a bequest from the late Miss Flora Conrad of Santa Fe, and $15,000 from the U.S. Steel Foundation. The structure will house offices for the president, vice~president, dean, as~ sistant deans, treasurer, business· man~ ager, admissions director, and public in~ formation director, as well as the music and science sections of the College's library, space for printing and mailing activities, a conference room and sup~ ply area. The additional library space will accommodate up to 25,000 volumes, including three important music collections, which will become available for general use for the first time. POLITY REVISED As noted in the President's Report in the September issue of The College, the Polity recently underwent its quinquennial revision. "It has been a major accomplishment that every five years a mandatory review of this document has been completed to the general satisfaction of the various segments of the college community," wrote Pr.esident Weigle. Major changes include the broadening of the concept of the Faculty and the creation of the position of Provost on the Annapolis campus. In addition the alumni were officially recognized as members of the College. The Polity presently is being printed and copies may be obtained by writing �December 1970 the Public Information Office, St. John's College, Annapolis, Md. 21404. CLASS OF 1974: ANNAPOLIS One hundred seventeen freshmen registered at St. John's in Annapolis in September. They came from 26 states, the District of Columbia, and Puerto Rico. The largest percentages of stu· dents came from Maryland, New York, Virginia, and Pennsylvania. The youngest freshman was 15 years old at regis· tration; the oldest was 28. Nine stu· dents entered from the lith grade, and 26 had attended college before, five of them at St. John's. There were five veterans of the military service. Seventy per cent came from public high school. Most of the freshmen ranked in the top fifth of their secondary school class. Five were National Merit Scholars, 16 were National Merit semi-finalists, and eight received Letters of Commendation. Three freshmen are children of alumni, nine are siblings of earlier St. Johnnies, and one is the wife of a Tutor. NEW MEXICO AUTHORS SPEAK AT LIBRARY LUNCHEONS The Santa Fe Book and Author Luncheons were described in an article earlier this year in The Christian Science Monitor as "the most popular project in town." Several of the noon programs have filled the largest dining room available at Santa Fe's famous La Fonda. Twenty-seven New Mexican authors ha"e spoken at the nine lun· cheons held the past two years. The 1970 fall series held on October 9th and November 13th included novelist Stanley Noyes, wildlife-writer Burdetta Beebe, western-author S. Omar Barker, photographer Todd Webb, bridge ex· pert Betty Lind, and archaeologist Douglas Schwartz. The St. John's College Library Associates Committee plans the programs and obtains the speakers, who participate without charge. There are an estimated 160 writers living in the Santa Fe vicinity. Annapolis Dean Robert A. Goldwin (left) and Yale University law professor Alexander Bickel converse with alumnus Arthur Kungle following Bickel's Friday evening lecture. Photo by James Viiiere. SHIP AHOY! SAILING RETURNS TO ST. JOHN'S Through the assistance, financial and otherwise, of several friends and alumni of the College, students in Annapolis have four International 420's to sail in College Creek and the Severn River. The boats were purchased from Arnold C. Gay, a local business- and yachtsman. Donors were Mrs. L. Corrin Strong, a member of the College's Board of Visitors and Governors; Mr. Coleman duPont, Mr. Richard H. Hutchings IV, 1944, and Mr. William W. Simmons, 1948, of Fawcett's Boat Supplies, Inc.; Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Fraley, Jr.; and the St. John's College Alumni Association, Mr. Jerome La Pi des (through the La Fides Foundation), and Drs. Theodore G. Osius and Charles E. Iliff, Jr. Additional donors to the boating program in services and materials were Mr. Charles Dell, 1924; Mr. Arnold C. Gay; Mr. Frank R. Atwell, 1953; Mr. David M. Saunders; Mr. Thomas Parran, Jr., 1942, Director of Alumni Activities; Mr. Charles T. Elzey, Treasurer, Annapolis campus; and Mr. Julius Rosenberg, 1938, Annapolis Director of Development. Faculty advisors to the program are Mr. John Sarkissian and Mr. Geoffrey Comber. Mr. Jay Newlin, 1971, is Commodore. (See boat photo in alumni news.) PRESIDENT WEIGLE's AcTIVITIES ARE VARIED President Richard D. Weigle represented St. John's College at the inauguration of Albert R. Jansen, S.J., at the University of San Francisco on February 27th. In August he spoke at the Foxhowe Association of Buck Hill Falls, Pennsylvania, about the College. In September he attended the organizational meeting of the Maryland Independent Colleges and Universities Association, a group which will lobby for state funds for private higher education. He also spoke at the dedication of the new Preparatory School in Santa Fe. On October 24th Mr. Weigle attended a function in honor of Thomas Mann at Princeton University. On October 30th he gave the inaugural address at the University of Albuquerque whose new president is Francis A. Kleinhenz. 21 �The College Mr. Weigle attended a family observance in New Haven, Connecticut, on September 11th when his father, the Reverend Luther A. Weigle, celebrated his 90th birthday. Reverend Weigle is Dean-Emeritus of the Yale Divinity School, and was chairman of the committee of biblical scholars who issued the Revised Standard Version of the Bible in 1952. ANNAPOLIS HAS NEW ARTIST IN RESIDENCE St. John's College in Annapolis has a new artist in residence, Robert A. Cole, a graduate of the University of Maryland with a B.A. degree in 1966 and an M.A. degree in 1968. Mr. Cole was a graduate assistant instructor in Design I and an instructor in Applied Design I at the University. He was also an instructor in the basic drawing and design workshop at Dartmouth-Cape Cod during the summer of 1969. From 1968 to 1970 he taught ninth grade art at Annapolis Junior High School. His exhibitions include "Maryland Artists," Baltimore Museum of Art, 1966; ((Gross Memorial Exhibition/' College Park, Maryland, 1969; "Maryland Annual," Baltimore Museum of Art, 1970; and a traveling exhibition with Maryland Arts Council, 1970-71. STUDENT NEWSPAPER PUBLISHED IN ANNAPOLIS A weekly newspaper, The Collegian, is being published on the Annapolis campus with senior Daniel Sullivan as editor. The newspaper has kept the students, Tutors, and officers of the College informed about campus and community happenings. Also published last year, it prints any material that is submitted if signed by the author, subject to editorial comment. Editor Sullivan states that anyone interested in receiving the newspaper should write him in care of the College, Annapolis, Maryland 21404. Subscriptions are $7.00. 22 Margaret Frame '74 and Tutor Hugh P. McGrath as the Hostess and Falstaff respectively in the King William Players' production of "Henry IV, Part One." Photo by James Vi11ere. STUDENTS PRESENT SHAKESPEAREAN HISTORY The King William Players of St. John's College in Annapolis presented "Henry IV, Part I" by William Shakespeare, Friday, November 20th, and Saturday, the 21st, evening performances, and a matinee on Sunday, the 22nd. The performance, of more than amateur excellence, was highlighted by Tutor Hugh McGrath's surpassingly flawless Falstaff, Tutor Robert Williamson's flaming, and, at the same time, always clear and articulate Hotspur, and senior Harold Koenig's convincing transition from madcap to true prince, Prince Hal. Tutor Charles Finch played a stately King Henry; junior Matthew Mallory was an impressively menacing Worcester. Tutors J. Winfree Smith and Malcolm Wyatt played Sir Walter Blunt and Sir Richard Vernon respectively. Student players were Russ Lipton as Pains; Margaret Frame, a delightfully witless Hostess; Thomas Casey, Douglas and Peto; Craig Mooring, an impressive Glendower; Richard Ferrier, Mortimer; Lee Elkins, a jaunty Gadshill; Lester Silver, Bardolph; Jane Young, Lady Percy; J. Elliott Tourtelott, Northumberland; and David Carey, First Carrier. This smoothly cooperative effort of the whole college community was ably and strenuously coached, cajoled, and directed by senior Michael Victoroff. Tutor Robert Bart served in an advisory capacity. Playwright-Producer in Residence Alvin Aronson served as Executive Producer; sets were by Richard Gasparotti; and costumes were under the direction of Sarah Harrison. Following the Sunday performance the cast joined with those of the audience desirous of it for a discussion of the play. The discussion focused on the differences between Hotspur's, Falstaff's, and Hal's understanding of honor-honor as exclusive, all embracing, and unpolitic; as counterfeit; and as sharable, civic, and political. 'I11e achievement of this performance was the culmination of efforts beginning with more or less bimonthly Shakespeare readings shared by faculty and students the previous year, long and careful planning, and finally, long and painstaking, if not exhausting, work in rehearsals. Saturday night's performance was sponsored by the women's group, The Caritas Society of the Friends of St. John's College in Annapolis. The Society also loaned the King William Players $300 towards the purchase of permanent stage fixtures. (L.B.) �ALUMNI ACTIVITIES HOMECOMING Homecoming 1970 attracted more than 230 alumni and their guests this year, for activities which covered Friday and Saturday, October 16th and 17th. Co-chairmen Jack A. Nadal '57 and Temple G. Porter '62 arranged an attractive schedule for the two-day period. Again this year, Dr. David Dobreer '44, of Alhambra, Calif., came the greatest distance, accompanied by Ills wrfe and two of their daughters. Friday was a rather slow day, despite events designed to attract the out-door types. Dick Blaul '32 and Sam Shenker '38 had arranged a golf tournament, but only three players showed up: the Cozzolinos, Gene '29 and Bob '63, plus Ed Webby '63, made up the threesome. At the Boat House Frank Atwell '53 and the members of the Boat Club had the International 420's and Tempests rigged and ready, and several alumni fought the gusty breezes in College Creek. So far as tennis was concerned, no activity was evident. The lecture Friday night by Douglas Allanbrook, Tutor, proved more popular than the athletic events, and the "Welcome Aboard" party after the lecture was even more attractive. Carol and Bill Tilles '59 were hosts for that successful event. On the basis of figures from the Saturday morning registration, attendance was down from last year by about 20 per cent. What had been planned as three seminars was condensed into two, with Tutors Laurence Berns Joseph P. Cohen '56, J. Winfree Smith: Robert L. Spaeth, and Edward G. Sparrow, Jr., dividing the leadership tasks. As was true last year, those who participated were generally enthusiastic about keeping the seminar in the Homecoming schedule. soned students in a game of soccer. A memorial service for Richard Scofield was conducted in Great Hall at noon on Saturday, and was attended by all members of the College community. The Dining Hall luncheon proved popular, although seating was at a premium at times. And as was hoped, alumni and students were able to talk with each other in a few cases. The Annual Meeting of the Alumni Association attracted the usual 60-70 members; the principal items of business were the election of new directors and officers (see separate story); certain amendments to the By-Laws; the voting of $500 to a memorial fund in memory of Richard Scofield; and the election of Ford K. Brown and JohnS. Kieffer to honorary membership in the Association. After the Annual Meeting, a team of alert, aspiring, but aging alumni met a team of stalwart, strenuous, and sea- Before the final whistle, however, "harsh reality asserted itself," to quote Athletic Director Bryce Jacobsen '42, writing in the October 25th issue of The Collegian. "Muscle, nerve, and bone were deaf to the trumpet's call. As usual, they marched to a cadence all their own." The score: Oldsters-0, Youngsters-4. Some 80-90 alumni, faculty, and students then gathered in tl1e Library's King William Room for a session on graduate schools. Rogers G. Albritton '45, of Harvard University's philosophy department, was chairman of a panel of alumni, all present or former graduate students. Each discussed his or her own experiences, and then an~ swered questions from students. Graduate students on the panel were Sharon Bishop '65, Bryn Mawr Graduate Department of Social Work; John F. Miller '62, Art and Architectural History, University of Maryland; J. William Rumpp '63, Department of Physics, University of North Carolina; Peter B. Schenck '59, Clinical Psychology, Catholic University, and John I-I. White '64, Department of Philosophy, New School (New Yark). Former graduate students were Bruce Collier '65, Lecturer, History of Science, Harvard; W. Bernard Fleischmann '50, D.ean, School of Humanities, Montclair State College; Robert L. Parslow '51, Graduate Advisor-Associate Professor, Department of General Linguistics, University of Pittsburgh; Vernon E. Derr '44, Physicist, Environmental Science Services, Department of Commerce, Boulder, Colo.; Sydney vV. Porter, Jr., '54, Vice President, Radiation Management Corporation, Philadelphia, and A. Stevens Rubin, M.D. '66, an intern at Philadelphia General Hospital. 23 �The College Thanks go to Nancy Solibakke '57 for bringing this group of interesting alumni together for the benefit of the students. For most alumni, the cocktail party was an occasion to meet old friends and to make new ones as they enter· tained the faculty and members of the senior class. As he has for several years, Henry D. Braun '59 made the neces· sary arrangements for food and beverages. Dinner in the gymnasium fol· lowed the libations, and was the setting for the presentation of the Awards of Merit and a talk by President Weigle (see separate story) . The day's events were complete with the party in the Coffee Shop after the dinner. Nancy Solibakke and Stephen Mainella '54, with last-minute help from William D. DeHart of the faculty, arranged the attractive setting. (Md.) executive and a director for three years. REUNION CLASSES William R. Tilles '59 (left), newly-elected As· sociation president, is congratulated by Darrell L. Henry '61, former president. tion in Annapolis and a new member of the Board; Directors: NEW BOARD OF DIRECTORS The first Board of Directors to be elected in accordance with the 1969 By-Laws was installed during the Annual Meeting on October 17th. The By-Laws now provide for the election of eight directors in even-numbered years and four in odd-numbered years. This year, in order to start the cycle properly, eight directors were elected for two years, four for one year. Two-year officers and directors are as follows: President: William R. Tilles '59, program administrator with IBM Corporation in Washington, D.C., and treasurer of the Association for two terms; Executive Vice President: Bernard F. Gessner '27, recently retired from the Coca-Cola Company, and a director of the Association for two years; Secretary: Mrs. Nancy C. Solibakke '58, Executive Secretary of the State Coordinating Office of the League of Women Voters of Maryland and secretary of the Association for two years; Treasurer: Temple G. Porter '62, Manager, Learning Material Production, Westinghouse Learning Corpora- 24 William B. Athey '32, of the insurance firm of Athey, Oberg & Associates of Baltimore, former member of the Board of Visitors and Governors and a long-time director of the Association; Bernard Casassa '34, contractor and property manager in the Washington, D.C., area and long active in alumni affairs, including service on the Board of Directors; Stephen Main ella '54, Chief of the Housing Hygiene Section of the Anne Arundel County (Md.) Department of Health and a director for a number of terms; Jack A. Nadal '57, an executive with the Navy Department in Washington, D.C., and a director for several terms. One-year directors are as follows: Jerome Gilden '54, owner and operator of the Jerry Gilden Gallery in Baltimore and vice-chairman of the Baltimore chapter of the Association; Mrs. L. Faye Polillo '56, a teacher at the Key School in Annapolis and active in the Annapolis chapter; William W. Simmons '48, an officer of Fawcett's Boat Supplies Company of Annapolis and active in the Annapolis chapter; and Edward C. Webby '63, a member of the staff of the Anne Arundel County Again this year the decade classes, plus the 5th and 25th anniversary years, were encouraged to have reunions at Homecoming. In those classes in which a member was willing to act as coordinator, there was the best response. In all classes attendance was smaller than in last year's reunion groups. The following alumni were present for reunions: I920-John D. Alexander, Sr., Mr. and Mrs. John H. Birely; 1930-Mr. and Mrs. J. Sprightly Kelly, Mr. and Mrs. Arthur E. Landers, Jr., Claxton J. O'Connor; 1940-Wilbur Matz (chairman); 1945-Rogers G. Albritton, Frank B. Marshall, Jr., 0. M. Meredith, Gene P. Thornton; -1950Mr. and Mrs. Jack Ladd Carr, W. Bernard Fleischmann, Mr. and Mrs. James H. Frame (chairman), Mr. and Mrs. Robert A. Goldwin, Mr. and Mrs. Theodore W. Hendricks, George Hofrichter, Mr. and Mrs. Irwin T. Hunt, John J. Logue, George Usdansky, Myron L. Wolbarsht; 1960-Lee and Hilda (Wozny) Freeman, Mary Gallagher, George P. Kell, Thomas J. and Belle (Patterson) Maher, Ronald C. and Katherine (Sauer) McGuirk, Elliot H. and Suzanna (Willis) Mini, Ronald A. and Sarah (Robinson) Munson, Frank B. Murray (chairman); 1965-Sharon Bishop, Bruce Collier, Jethro M. Eisenstein and guest, Britt R. Gilbert, Thomas D. and Pamela (Mark) Harvey, Diana Katz, Aliena (Dungan) Leonard, Bruce M. Preston (chairman) . SPRING TRIP TO VIRGIN ISLANDS As the old song says, "Three strikes and you're out," so we're coming up to bat for the last time. The game? To try to interest alumni in group travel somewhere. Our previous efforts were �December 1970 Philip L. Alger '12 inspects Award of Merit plaque with William R. Til1es '59. Representing General Noble, Carey Jarman '17 accepts plaque from President Tilles. Luther S. Tall '21 (left) receives plaque from former Award winner Thomas B. Turner '21. obviously ill-timed or unappealing; we hope that this latest effort will prove more attractive. If you didn't see one of the flyers at Homecoming, you will soon receive one through the mail. Basically, the trip involves eight days and seven nights in St. Croix, U.S. Virgin Islands. The travel is on jet aircraft from Baltimore's Friendship Airport, the cost covers almost everything during the trip. The dates for the trip are April 1724, 1971, just at a time when we can all use some warm surf and sun after a long, cold winter. Watch for the special announcement giving all details. Meanwhile, make plans now to join in the fun. or to St. John's College, or for outstanding achievement in his chosen field." Philip L. Alger of the class of 1912 has been a professional engineer all his life. He earned degrees of bachelor of science from Massachusetts Institute of Technology and master of science from Union College, both in electrical engineering. St. John's awarded him an in-course master's degree in 1916, and in 1968 he was honored by the U niversity of Colorado with the degree of doctor of science. Forty years of his long career were spent with the General Electric Company, during which time he became a leading authority on electric motors. He holds numerous patents in that field, and has written extensively about all aspects of mathematics, electricity, and professional ethics, among other subjects. He received the Lamme Award from the American Institute of Electrical Engineers in 1958, and eight years later was selected as Engineer of the Year by the New York State Society of Professional Engineers. Alfred Houston Noble served in the United States Marine Corps from 1917, when he graduated from St. John's, until 1956, rising from Second Lieutenant to Lieutenant General while on active duty. Upon his retirement he was advanced to the rank of General, the first St. John's alumnus to hold that rank. He served in France with the Sixth Marine Regiment dur- ing t]le First World War, and in the Treasury Islands, and at Choiseul Island, Bougainville, and Guam during World War II. His many decorations include the Distinguished Service Cross, the Navy Cross, the Silver Star Medal with Oakleaf Cluster, the Legion of Merit with Combat "V," and the Croix de Guerre with Silver Star and Diploma. In 1827 Francis Scott Key helped form a Society of the Alumni; in 1934 Luther S. Tall incorporated the Alumni Association in its present form, served as its president for an unprecedented three consecutive terms, and was a member of the Board of Visitors and Governors during the critical years 1936-1938. Currently an account executive with radio station WMAR-FM in Baltimore, he was formerly vice president of Wm. H. Lohmeyer, Inc., a men's wear firm in Baltimore. For years Mr. Tall has been a leader in alumni activity in the Baltimore area, even after stepping down from active participation in Association affairs. General Noble was the only honoree unable to attend Homecoming, sending a telegram of regret from his home in La Jolla, Calif. Carey Jarman '17, winner of the Award in 1964, accepted the presentation plaque for him. Dr. TI10mas B. Turner, a classmate of Mr. Tall, a member of the Board of Visitors and Governors, and the recipient of the 1957 Award, made the presentation of Mr. Tall's plaque. AWARD OF MERIT An electrical engineer, a Marine general, and an advertising account execu- tive were honored with the 1970 Alumni Award of Merit at Homecoming this year. This was a departure from the practice of the past 20 years, and reflects a decision by the Association directors to increase the number of annual awards from one to not more than three. The Award of Merit, established in 1950, is given each year by the Alumni Association to an alumnus "for distinguished and meritorious service to the United States or to his native state 25 �The College President Richard D. Weigle greets Frank B. Marshall, Jr. '45, William W. Simmons '48, and the latter's mother, Mrs. Haven Y. Simmons. Front, left, A. Willard Joyce '13, Mrs. Dunlevy C. Downs, Mr. Downs '16; Rear, Guy D. Thompson '16, Walter W. Warner '14, Ernst Von Schwerdtner '17, and Carey Jarman '17. Graduate School forum in King William Room. Bernard F. Gessner '27, new executive vicepresident of Association, waits for dinner. ANNAJPOUS HOMECOMING From left: Roland N. King '25, George F. Wohlgemuth '19, Mrs. Robert A. Bier and Dr. Bier '19. 26 Mrs. Robert A. Goldwin (almost hidden, left) chats with Mr. and Mrs. Irwin T. Hunt '50 during cocktail party. �December 1970 Gene Thornton '45 (left), and Frank B. Marshall, Jr. '45, join Alex Koukly '44 at Friday night "welcome aboard" party. From left: Bill Hendricks '73, his dad Theodore W. '50, Mr. and Mrs. Irwin T. Hunt '50, and Annapolis Dean Robert A. Goldwin '50. California alumnus David Dobreer '44 (left) renews old friendship with Henry T. Wensel, Jr. '46. From left, Julius Rosenberg '38, Cyril R. Murphy, Jr. '36, John D. Alexander, Sr. '20, Darrell L. Henry '61, Earl R. Keller '21, and A. Willard Joyce '13. Henry S. Shryock, Jr. '32 and Charles Dell '24 follow soccer game closely. Mrs. Juliana Rugg, College nurse, Joan E. Cole '57, Gay (Patterson) Ahlf '59, and Charlotte King '59, from left. Sharon Bishop '65 and Tutor Edward G. Sparrow, Jr. 27 �The College ANNUAL GIVING Since 1937 St. John's has insisted that it is essentially different from other colleges. That this has been and is true was never more clearly shown than in the past five years. While violence has torn other campuses apart, St. John's has remained an island of relative tranquility, a college whose sole purpose is education, not political action. Unavoidably, there is one area in which St. John's is exactly like all other colleges: in its financial need. And that area is more critical for all colleges this year than perhaps ever before. Unlike some, St. John's has neither closed nor "gone public"; like many, we have raised fees this year and may have to do so annually. Unlike some, we have not frozen faculty and staff salaries; we have tightened our belt and pared an already streamlined budget. And like almost all others are doing, St. John's this year is asking parents, friends, corporations, and alumni to raise their level of giving. This year's alumni campaign has a goal of $30,000, for instance, up $5,000 from last year. Appeals for alumni gifts will start shortly after January 1st. We hope to be able to terminate the campaign in May. During that period you will be approached in person, by 'phone, or by letter; please respond as generously as you can. Don't hesitate to give, however, because your gift can't be a large one: the number of gifts is as important to us as the total amount received. If you want to take maximum advantage of tax benefits from your gift, you might consider giving before December 31st. No matter what you give, or when, the College will be most grateful. CLASS NOTES ers of the 175th Infantry Regiment during Wor1d War II and later commander of the 29th Division of the National Guard, is the second recipient of the Medal. old block, was a star lacrosse player at Brown University last season. 1914 Ernest L. Yost, M.D., as a member of the 50th anniversary class at Georgetown University, in June was honored with a Golden Jubilee Citation by the University. Dr. Yost received his medical degree from Georgetown in 1920. 1916 Lt. Gen. Thomas E. Bomke, USMC (ret.), and Mrs. Bourke were September visitors with his brother, Clyde E. Bourke '18, at the latter's Annapolis home, Gen. and Mrs. Bourke make their home in San Diego, Calif. 1917 The Rev. Dr. J. Turnbull Spicknall was honored on Sunday, April 5th, 1970, by the congregation of the Woodside United Methodist Church of Silver Spring, Md. In commemoration of his 50 years of clerical service, a portrait of Dr. Spicknall was unveiled at the church. 1919 Robert A. Bier, M.D., has "retired" from the post of chief medical officer of the Selective Service System, and has joined the Medical Division of the Civil Service Commission. Dr. Bier has been very active in re-forming the \Vashington chapter of the Alumni Association. 1921 Luther S. Ta11, an account executive with radio station WMAR-FM in Baltimore, and one of this year's AWard of Merit winners, was featured recently in the station's newsletter in a unique way. One page was devoted to a reproduction of Mr. Tall's senior class entry in the !921 St. John's Rat-Tat. 1923 lviaj. Gen. WiHiam C. Purnell in October received the Maryland Distinguished Service Medal and a special commendation from the Governor. Gen. Purnell, one of the command- 28 1924 Lt. Gen. Ridgely Gaither, USA (ret), Police Commissioner of Annapolis, and Miss Anne Stua1'i Harcourt were married during the summer in Silver Spring, Md. Dr. Robert S. McCeney, Gen. Gaither's roommate at St. John's, served as best man. 1934 The August 2nd edition of The Denver Post contained an interesting article by and about W. Thetford LeViness of Santa Fe. A cerebral palsy victim since birth, and confined to a wheel-chair, Mr. LeViness, nevertheless, pursues a fu11-time career as a librarian at the State Capitol in Santa Fe, a side-line as a freelance journalist, and with a companion travels the Southwest in a Toyota Land-Cruiser to gather material for his articles. Gust Skordas, assistant archivist for the State of Maryland, addressed the September luncheon meeting of the Annapolis Alumni chapter, describing the work done in the Hall of Records. 1935 Morton S. Fine is one of the co·producers of the new ABC-TV series, "TI1e Most Deadly Game." A radio and television writer who turned producer, Mr. Fine has among his credits the movie "The Pawnbroker" and the "I Spy" television series. 1938 William T. Ross in July was appointed manager of production planning for Celanese Fibers Company in Cumberland, Md. An employee of the company since 1940, Mr. Ross ho1ds a bachelor of science degree in chemical engineering from The Johns Hopkins University. 1939 Frederick R. Buck's son Rick, a chip off the 1941 Paul R. Comegys, a general life insurance agent in Trenton, N.J., has become a parttime instructor at Rider College. 1944 John Davis Hill received the degree of master of arts in librarianship from the University of Denver last June. He is currently employed as Geology/Geophysics Librarian at the University of California at Los Angeles. 1945 Frank B. Marshall, Jr. has been elected president of the Annapolis Chapter of the Alumni Association. Mr. Marshall is the manager of an investment securities office in Severna Park, Md. Gene Thornton now writes the photography column of The New York Times Sunday edition. 1950 Robert A. Goldwin, dean of St. John's in Annapolis, was selected to appear in the 1970 edition of Outstanding Educators of America. This national honor has been extended to Mr. Goldwin on the basis of exceptional service, achievements, and leadership in education. Approximately 5,000 educators in all levels of education are thus honored each year. 1952 Warren Winiarski and his wife, Barbara (Dvorak) '55, Jive in the Napa Valley of California, where he is a winery consultant and is developing a 40-acre Cabernet Sauvignon vineyard. I-Ie hopes his enterprise will produce wines of excellence comparable to those of BordeatL-x. The Winiarskis live on a mountain top, and are initiating their three children in winery and vineyard practices, according to a recent letter. 1954 Folksinger and recording artist Glenn Yarbrough recently gave a concert at the Anne �December 1970 Arundel Community College near Annapolis. Many of Mr. Yarbrough's recent recordings have been works by his long-time friend, Rod McKuen. 1957 W. Douglas Weir, M.D., on July 1st started full-time work on the faculty of the University of Maryland School of Medicine as an assistant professor of psychiatry. His decision to devote more time to teaching was influenced largely by what Dr. Weir terms "stimulating, exciting changes in medical education." 1958 An interesting letter from Joseph M. Green, M.D., brings us up to date on his career. After St. John's he worked for a publisher for several years, attending school at night, and then he entered the State University of New York Downstate Medical College. He now has his medical education, a year's internship, and three years' residency in Internal Medicine behind him. This year Dr. Green is in the first of two years of a fellowship in cardiology, and is acting director of the Systems Computer Laboratory, at Long Island College Hospital in Brooklyn. He and his wife, the former Rachel Elfie, have a son, Noah, age one. 1959 Christ Sagos has accepted a position with the IBM Corporation working in Phoenix, Ariz., managing a small group on a highway contract with the Arizona highway department. His wife, Mary (Horton) '61, has completed her undergraduate studies at the University of Wisconsin, graduating this past August. T11e Sagoses have daughters seven and nine years of age. 1960 Along with the invitation to celebrate their I Oth reunion at Homecoming, the members of the class received a questionnaire card from chairman Frank Murray. The idea was to send back a card if they couldn't attend in person; six replies were received, and are summarized below. (In each instance the last statement, set in quotation marks, is in reply to the question, "How have you changed?") Betty (Beck) Bennett, husband David, and their two girls live in Berkeley, Calif., and Nirs. Bennett replies, "How not? I view cynicism and skepticism as necessities, find it harder to hope. But I do." Rosalie (Levine) Boosin, hllSband Joel, and their daughter live in Brooklyn. Mrs. Boosin is a teacher on child care leave, and writes, "I feel older. I hope I'm wiser." David Chang, wife Ann (Wisotzki) '63, and their two children live in Acton, Mass., where he labors in the military-industrial complex, and from whence he replies, "for the better, thank you." John E. Gorecki, an instructor in English at Macon (Ga.) Junior College, replies, "I am married, and I am looking forward to beginning a Ph.D. program in English shortly at some Southern university." John R. Jacobson is married, has two children, is Executive Director of Associated Colleges of the Mid-Hudson Area, lives in New Paltz, N.Y., and answers, "more cynical." John J. G. Lane, his wife Grace (Prevost) '59, and their three children live in Del City, Okla., where Capt. Lane is Chief of Research and Analysis, Communications Computer Programming Center, Tinker Air Force Base. His answer to the question about changing, "Aged 10 years." Kendon and Patricia (Townsend) Stubbs live in Charlottesville, Va., with their two sons. Mr. Stubbs is reference librarian and a member of the faculty of the University, while Mrs. Stubbs is "former teacher and a future teacher and full-time housewife." The Stubbses answer, "perhaps most significantly by activity in community affairs and problems." 1962 Maria ,(FJaschberger) Hanneman writes that her husband has received a one-year overseas research grant, and that they will be living in Ritterweg, Germany. 1963 Daniel T. Devereaux married Miss Helena "'iskman last April, and is currently assistant professor of philosophy at the University of 1 Virginia. Roberta Lee (Invin) Wagner writes that she, her husband, and their six children have moved to Kansas City, Kans., where she has accepted a one-year internship in clinical psychology at the University of Kansas Medical Center. She hopes to obtain her Ph.D. degree in clinical psychology from George Peabody College, Nashville, Tenn., next summer. 1964 Jolin P. Hetland and six other IBM'ers left that corporation in October 1969 to form Corstar Business Computing Company in White Plains, N.Y. Mr. Hetland says, "we are not getting rich, but we're having fun and learning a lot." 1965 Daniel V. Madfredi is currently attending graduate school at the University of Toronto. Lt. Kerry Nemovicller writes that he is alive and well "somewhere on the border" in Israel. His card promises a longer letter when circumstances permit. Antigone Pllalares (SF) and Ervin Lee Moore were married on June 20th in Tanana, Alaska. Mr. Moore is a sanitarian for the U.S. Public Health Service. The Moores were scheduled to be transferred to Albuquerque in Sep· tember, and she plans to return to school, perhaps to pursue a master's degree in education. Mrs. Moore writes that Anne (Harlan) Plummer (SF) is also in Albuquerque, taking education courses at the University of New Mexico. Jinna (MacLaurin) Rie is presently enrolled at Goucher College in Towson, Md., as one of 38 participants in Goucher's 5th Year Program in Elementary Education leading to the degree of Master of Education. 1969 Meredith (Ardis) and G. Michael Anthony now live in Eugene, Oreg. Mrs. Anthony this past spring received her master's degree in writing from The Johns Hopkins University. Janet Gleason and Robert J. Benton were married on June 13th, and now live in New York City. David H. Humphreys has joined the staff of the Anne Arundel County (Md.) Department of Social Services. 1970 John R. Dean, having traveled in Europe and Greece this summer, has settled into his studies in comparative literature at the University of Massachusetts. Joanne Murray is a teaching assistant in the Deparbnent of Physics and Astronomy at the University of Maryland. Adrian E. Pols is currently employed by the Anne Arundel County (Md.) Department of Social Services. In Memoriam Dennis G. Glew in August was appointed an instructor in history and classics at Moravian College, Allentown, Pa. A Ph.D, candidate at Princeton University, Mr. Clew holds an M.A. degree in classics from that institution, and studied at the Albertus-Magnus University in Cologne, Germany, last year. Bruce Collier, a June recipient of a Ph.D. degree from Harvard University, now lectures in the history of science there. Vivian T. Ronay and Theodore L. Barry III were married during the summer, and make their home in New Yark City. 1925-J. GoRDON BASSETT, Baltimore, Md. CARTER D. MESSICK, Annapolis, Md., October 5, 1970. 1968 1965-TRAcY S. YoUMANs, Portland, Oreg. 1909-BusnROD B. HowARD, Charlestown. S.C., August, 1970. 1934-ROBERT CRANE {LEATHERBEE)' New York City, July 2, 1970. Daniel L. CJeavinger (SF) and his wife, Anne (Bancroft) SF '69, have returned safely from Peace Corps service in Peru. Mr. Cleavinger is now slated for active duty in the U.S. anned forces. 1969-ANTHONY J. SNIVELY III, Cambridge, Mass., October 12, 1970. 29 �St. John's College in Annapolis announces Summelt' Confelt'ence Site AvaHable Auditorium, dining hall, dormitories, classrooms (301) 263-2371, ext. 14 The College St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland 21404 Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The College </em>(1969-1981) Description An account of the resource St. John's College's Office of the Dean published <em>The College</em> from 1969 to 1981. The publication superseded <em><a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/37" title="The Bulletin of St. John's College">The Bulletin of St. John's College</a></em>.  <em>The College</em> was in turn continued by <a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/13" title="The St. John's Review"><em>The St. John's Review</em></a> in 1981.  <br /><br />A separate magazine for St. John's alumni titled <em>The College </em>began publication in 2001, continuing <em>The St. John's Reporter</em>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The College" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=12">Items in the The College Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource 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 Santa Fe, NM Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thecollegemagazine 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. 29 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Development Offices of St. John's College Title A name given to the resource The College, December 1970 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1970-12 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Berns, Laurence Felter, Mary P. Parran, Jr., Thomas Trimmer, Maurice Sullivan, Daniel Description An account of the resource Volume XXII, Number 4 of The College. Published in December 1970. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context The_College_Vol_22_No_4_1970 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 The College https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/5ad0c6157594fa868eac67fc38cd2c13.pdf 16b8fe613c0d0a1cacbd50bfb7dc9ffa PDF Text Text THE COLLEGE St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland Santa Fe, New Mexico April 1971 �The College Cover: John Locke, by Sir Godfrey Kneller. Inside Front Cover: McDowell Hall, Annapolis. Inside Back Cover: Statue of Virgil, by Benedetto Antelami (?), Mantua, Palazzo Ducale, ca. 1215. The College is a publication for friends of St. John's College and for those who might become friends of the College, if they came to know it. Our aim is to indicate, within the limitations of the magazine form, why, in our opinion, St. John's comes closer than any other college in the nation to being· what a college should be. If ever well-placed beacon lights were needed by American education it is now. By publishing articles about the work of the College, articles reflecting the distinctive life of the mind that is the College, we hope to add a watt or two to the beacon light that is St.John's. Editor: Laurence Berns Managing Editor: Mary P. Felter Alumni Editor: Thomas Parran, Jr. Editorial Assistant: Maurice Trimmer Art Editor: Daniel Sullivan, '71 The College is published by the Development Offices of St. John's College, College Avenue, Annapolis, Maryland 21404 (Julius Rosenberg, Director), and Santa Fe, New Mexico (J. Burchenal Ault, Vice President); Member, American Alumni Council. President, St. John's College, Richard D. 'Weigle. Published four times a year in April, July, October, and December. Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. VoL XXIII April 1971. No.1 In the April Issue: e St. John's College Asks John Locke Some Questions, by Robert A. Goldwin ......... 1 Logic and Reason, by Edward Sparrow 11 News on the Campuses 22 Alumni Activities 30 �St. John's College Asks John Locke Some Questions* By ROBERT A. GOLDWIN John Locke has been dead now for 265 years, but his truth goes marching on. And, unfortunately, so does his untruth. This is a matter of deep concern to us, for to the extent that this nation is a Lockean society, our strengths ·and our weaknesses are related to the truth and the untruth ·of the teachings of John Locke-which still go marching on. As many of you know, I attended St. John's College as a student for four years, and that means that I sat through more Friday night lectures without understanding what the lecturer was talking about than most of you have yet had the opportunity to do. When the time came for me to start lecturing here, I resolved that if I accomplished nothing else at least I would do my utmost to be clear. It is not for me to say whether this lecture will be profound or elegant, but I do not hesitate to claim clarity. I tell you this in advance so that you will know this will not be one of those incomprehensible presentations that cannot be grasped no matter what effort the listener makes. Whoever listens will understand. My subject, indirectly, is St. John's College and the liberal arts. My subject, very directly, is the political teaching of John Locke, especially his teaching concerning the state of nature. The connection of the two will be made clear, I promise, before the end. The lecture will culminate in two questions directed to John Locke. But if this lecture is to have the advertised clarity, there is something you must do. You must ask the right question as I tell you about Locke's state of nature. To ask the right question is a key to learning, as this College knows full well. Asking the right question is the foundation of this curriculum. You know, for example, that the simple, one-word question, "Vv'hy?" is often incomparably useful. Asked with good timing, asked about *This was Mr. Gold\vin's first Formal Lecture to St. John's College as Dean; given in Annapolis, October 16, 1969. Copyright © 1970 by Robert A. Goldwin. All rights reserved. an assertion that ought to be challenged but rarely is, the perceptive "Vfhy?" can transform your thinking and lead you into entirely new paths. But "\Vhy?" is not the question I advise you to ask about Locke's state of nature. The question I have in mind is longer-in fact, twice as long. It is the question of relevance. It is a question that should be asked, eventually, about almost everything we study; but it must not be asked too frequently, and it must not be asked too soon; but it should be asked eventually. I have in mind the simple, two-word, earthy, challenging, imperti. nent question, l'So what?" Locke tells us about the state of nature in a book on politics. My advice to you is to be sure to ask him-but he can't answer, so ask his book and ask me and ask yourself-"So what?" Let me show you what I mean. Some interpreters of Locke say that for Locke the state of nature is a state of war, as with Hobbes. Others say that Locke obviously wrote to oppose and refute Hobbes and that according to Locke the state of nature is a state of peace. I say that Locke meant neither-the state of nature is neither a state of peace nor a state of war but a state of a very different kind, not necessarily characterized by peace or war. And what should you say? You should say, "So what?" To say, "So what?" is not the same as to say, "\Vho cares?" "Vlho cares?" is a nonquestion because it ex- presses a .lack of wonder, a lack of concern, a lack of curiosity, a disclination to inquiry. "\Vho cares?" is the false-face of an unquestioning mind. On the other hand, to ask, "So what?" means to ask, "tell me why I should care." That is a request for evidence that the subject is worth your time and thought, not because you are lazy but because you want to spend your thought on those things of the greatest importance to the building of your life and the flourishing of your mind. I am certain that Locke wanted you to ask him probing 1 �The College and impertinent questions. I am certain that he hoped to attract just such questioning readers. In fact, since heas many of the great authors-had a towering ambition to transform the world and thus save it from folly, he thought the future safety and prosperity of mankind depended on his attracting the most able readers, who would be persuaded only by the strongest arguments and the most useful teachings. He wanted readers who would say as they read, "You say the state of nature, Mr. Locke, and I say, So what?" And Locke wrote to instruct such readers and rouse them to action-to lead them to a new understanding of politics and to stir them to build a new and better kind of political society. And I ask you, in the same spirit, to be sure to ask of my teaching, the same disrespectful "So what?", because I, in the spirit of Locke, also hope to guide you and others away from a folly that endangers us all. The folly I hope to warn you of has its origin partly in tbe teachings of John Locke, one of mankind's most influential teachers and greatest subverters. We must try to save ourselves from him-but to do it we must first understand his teaching, and what it has done to us. Locke published the Two Treatises of Government, in 1689, soon after William of Orange and his Mary ascended the throne as the culmination of what is known as the Glorious Revolution of 1688. This is the same King \Villiam in whose name King William's School was founded in Annapolis in 1696. It has long been said that Locke wrote the Treatises to justify the Revolution, which involved deposing a legitimate monarch, a somewhat ticklish matter to justify; as a matter of fact, Locke tells us in his Preface that he is presenting this book "to make good" the title of King \Villiam to the throne and "to justify to the world the people of England" though they did depose their former king. The evidence is clear, however, that Locke wrote most of the book about ten years earlier, and did little more than add a few topical paragraphs and the preface just before publication in 1689. 2 The book was written as one work divided into Book One and. Book Two, but very few readers study the First Treatise now, and in fact the First Treatise is a lengthy, somewhat tiresome analysis of an earlier book, Patriarcha, by a man named Sir Robert Filmer. Filmer is a deservedly little-known author who would be absolutely and completely unknown, I believe, if Locke had not chosen him as an explicit opponent. Filmer's book was, however, in 1680, in England, a bestseller, and he was the darling of the Establishment because he argued the divine right of kings. Locke might have been thinking of publishing his refutation at the time he wrote it, about 1681, but Algernon Sidney beat him to it; he published an attack on Filmer and was hanged for his trouble. Locke, a prudent man, put his manuscript away for another day. In 1683 an Establishment was really an Establishment, and since Locke was thought to be the sort of man who would write something disagreeing with the divine right of kings, and was friendly with men who were known to be enemies of the throne, the king's police were after him. Locke escaped to Holland just before they came to arrest him, and remained there until his enemies were dethroned and his friends put in their places. Even so, he was so cautious that when he did publish in 1689, with his friends occupying the highest seats of power, the book was issued anonymously. All three editions printed while Locke was alive bear no author's name on the title page. Not until his death, in the codicil to his will, did Locke acknowledge that he was, indeed, the author of Two Treatises of Government. Was it, as it seems, a dangerous book? Did it threaten anyone? If so, whom? The Second Treatise begins with a one-page summary of the First Treatise. I will not go into the substance except to say that an argument that had little plausibility as it issued from the pen of Filmer, that all kings rule by right descended from Adam, is mercilessly refuted by Locke. But Locke acknowledges a certain obligation to mankind. If he has destroyed the thesis that all present �April 1971 Thus, in the beginning of the Second Treatise, we are presented with Locke's grand question: What is political power? rulers rely on-divine right-to justify their right to rule, does he not have an obligation to explain how they do have a right to rule others? Filmer had expressed or attempted to express, with reasoned argument, what everyone had agreed was the title of kings to political power. Locke had shown that, when examined, Filmer's arguments do not stand up. But how does anyone come to have political power? Some men rule other men. By. what right? Is "all Government in the World ... the product only of Force and Violence"? Do "Men live together by no other Rules but that of Beasts, where the strongest carries it"? The man who answers yes to these question lays "a Foundation for perpetual Disorder and Mischief, Tumult, Sedition and Rebellion," and Locke would not want to be guilty of those crimes. He acknowledges, therefore, that he "must of necessity find out" another explanation of how government rises, what the origin of political power is, and how we can know "the Persons that have it" (section l ).** Thus, in the beginning of the Second Treatise, we are presented with Locke's grand question: What is political power? That question does not mean, "What is power?" The emphasis is on the word political. Locke wants to distinguish political power from the other kinds of power that men are observed to exercise over others. In the course of the book he discusses the power of husbands over wives, parents over children, and despots over slaves, and he shows that although there are similarities and that sometimes they are mistaken for and spoken of as political power, they differ from political power. He does this by showing what the origin is of political power, \vho has it, for what duration, for \Vhose sake, for what purpose, and on what terms. He begins by defining political power as "a Right" to make laws and enforce them "for the Publick Good" (sec- ** All section references are to the Second Treatise. lion 3). A man may make rules for others and enforce them, but if he doesn't have the right to do so, his power isn't political. Locke begins with his definition of political power. The rest of the book is an explanation of what that definition means. His explanation begins this way. "To understand Political Power right," he says, "we must consider what State all Men are naturally in" -"a State of perfect Freedom" and "also of Equality" (section 4)-a state of nature. The liberty and equality are but two faces of the same thing. Men are born equal: nobody is set over you, authorized by nature to tell you what to do. That is, your equality means you are naturally free from subjection by others. In short, the essential fact of the state of nature-the "State all Men are naturally in"-the essential fact is that there is no natural boss. What Locke means more than anything when he says state of nature is, the absence of some "decisive powe; to appeal to" on earth. "Men Jiving together ... without a common Superior on Earth, with Authority to judge between them, is properly the State of Nature" (section 19). In other words, the state of nature is a nonpolitical condition. Why does Locke think we must first consider men in a nonpolitical state in order to understand what political power is? To this perplexity we must add that the argument not only begins with consideration of man outside of political society, it also ends that way. The final chapter, the longest in the Second Treatise, is on "The Dissolution of Government," and there once again Locke discusses the state of nature. lli'hy does a book on government begin and end with man without government? Let us go back to Locke's earlier phrase: the "State all Men are naturally in." Did you notice the tense' He doesn't say "were"; he says, "are." Throughout the book7 the predominant use of the present tense in discussing the state of nature is quite consistent. Somehow or other we must figure out.how we are in the state of nature if we are 3 �The College • to understand what Locke wants to tell us about political society. Primitive, prepolitical men may have lived in the state of nature, but the state of nature may exist now, too. It does not have to be a primitive condition of mankind. The first example Locke gives of men in the state of nature is of heads of independent states-rulers, princes, presidents (section l4). In relation to one another, they are in the state of nature because there is no "common Superior on Earth with Authority to judge between them." President Nixon and President Pompidou are, according to Locke, in the state of nature in relation to one another, although they both are-you must admit-highly political men. The state of nature need not be primitive or prepolitical. Let me give another example gf the state of nature, this time within political society.i};uppose that you are walking alone down an isolated street in any large American city, at night, and off in the distance you see a figure of a man approaching. It is ominously quiet; you see no one else around; you realize that there are no homes on the street; you recall that a police patrol passed five minutes ago and so you have no hope that they will be back for quite a while-not soon enough for you in case you should need help. Now, then, as the two of you approach, there is no common superior to intervene in case of controversy \vho can intervene in time. For all practical purposes, the two of you are in the state of nature although, in another sense, you are also in civil society. In this state-of-nature situation you obviously have a right to defend yourself if necessary, and even to injure or kill the other if he attacks you. But what if he is bigger? \Vhat if he is male and you are female? \Vhat if he has a knif~i']The man approaching may be as frightened of you as you are beginning to be of him, and he may tum and go in the opposite direction; or you may do the same before he does. But suppose the two of you 4 buck up your courage, and stride on toward each other, and then pass with no incident whatever-was that the state of nature? According to Locke's description of it, emphatically yes. The state of nature is not defined by the presence or absence of violence. It is defined only by the presence or absence of someone with authority to settle controversies that might arise. The way Locke defines the state of nature, it cannot be the opposite of the state of war, although it is very different from the state of war. The state of war, Locke says, occurs when force is used without right, without authority (section 19). For instance, if the stranger on the dark street pulled a knife and threatened you with it to steal your wallet, that would be the state of war, for he would be using force without right. The state in which force is not used without right is a state of peace. The definition of the state of nature has nothing to do with whether force is used. The opposite of the state of nature is not the state of war; it is civil society-a state where men live together with a common superior to judge between them. \A/lwever tells you that according to Locke the state of nature and the state of war are opposites has the matter in a hopeless jumble. Locke's teaching is simply this: if there is no judge, that's the state of nature. If there is a judge, that's the state of civil society. If force is used without right, that's the state of war. If force is not used without right, that's a state of peace. Of course, if you want to know whether the state of nature would b.e peaceful or whether there would be war, just think about that dark street. Is force more likely to be used without right under such circumstanceswhether out of malice or fear or misunderstanding makes little difference-when there are just the two of you and no police around? Common sense and Locke agree that war is more likely to occur in such a situation and likely to end only with the escape, defeat, surrender, or death of one of the parties. Thus, though the state of �April 1971 \Vhat Locke means more than anything when he says state of nature is, the absence of some "decisive power to appeal to" on earth. nature and the state of war are very different, one can safely say that the state of war is very likely to occur m the state of nature. And so Locke tells us that the state of nature is "not to be endured" (section 13). It is "full of fears and continual dangers" (section 123). It is one long, dark, dangerous, unpatrolled city street, and who would not be willing to make some sacrifices to change it for the sake of safety? Men seek to escape the state of nature and put themselves in civil society, to establish a common authority to judge between them. In the state of nature, every man must rely on himself to take care of himself; as Locke puts it, in the state of nature every man must have the executive power of the law of nature in himself. In a state of nature, each of us has certain powers, chiefly two: first, "to do whatsoever he thinks fit for the preservation of himself and others within the permission of the Law of 1'-lature)); second, "to punish the Crimes committed against that Law" (section 128). Every man has a natural power to do what he must to save himself, and a natural power to punish criminals. These two natural powers of every man in the state of nature become the source of political power-Locke says they are "the original of the legislative and executive power of civil society." Now, there is an important difference to be noted about these two fundamental natural powers, \Vhich are crucial in Locke's description of the transformation from the state of nature to ci,·il societv. The second natural power, the power to pt:nish, we SL;rrender entirely to the common superior when we enter civil society. \:Vhen the civil ;:JUthoritY is funcboning. \\'e cannot take the law into our own hJr;ds. But tl!e other natural power, "of doing n·h:-tfS(JC\'Cr he thought- fit for the Preservation of himselr (section 129), cannot be wholly surrendered. Locke says not that "he wholly gives up" that power, but rather thJt he gives it up "so far forth as the presen'ation of himself, and the rest of that Society shall require" (section 129). Thus this remnant of the state of nature survives in civil society. The effort of men to get out of the state of nature and into civil society cannot be completely successful. The fact that we do not give up the right to judge what is good for our own safety stems not from some opinion of Locke's or judgment of what he thinks ought to be; he says that is the way human beings are. The natural power of every man to judge what is necessary for his own preservation is not wholly given up because it cannot be wholly given up. The natural powers of men in the state of nature are transformed into the political powers of civil society. Men contribute their natural powers to make political power, and they do it for a reason-protection. The fundamental purpose is self-preservation. Since the purpose was to remedy the uncertainty and the danger of the state of nature by providing settled laws for the protection of all the members, the exercise of unlimited power is not and cannot be considered political power: Absolute Arbitrary Power, or Governing without settled standing Laws, can neither of them consist with the ends of Society and Government, which lvlen would not quit the freedom of the state of Nature for, and tie themselves up under, were it not to preserve their Lives, Liberties, and Fortunes; and by sbted Rules of Right and Property to secure their Peace and Quiet. It cannot be supposed that they should intend, had they a power so to do, to give to any one, or more. an absolute Arbitrary Power over their Persons and Estates .... This were to put themselves into a worse condition than the state of Nature~ wl1erein they had a Liberty to defend their Right against the Injuries of others, and were upon equal terms of force to ·maintain it. .. (section 137). 5 �The College Locke, starting from the principle of self-preservation as the rock-bottom foundation of civil society, shows again and again that absolute power is no remedy at all for the evils of the state of nature. To be subject to the arbitrary power of an uncontrolled ruler without the right or strength to defend oneself against him is a condition far worse than the state of nature: it cannot be supposed to be that to which men consented freely, for "no rational Creature can be supposed to change his condition with an intention to be worse" (section 131). Therefore, Locke says, absolute monarchy is "no Form of Civil Government at all" (section 90). In short, dictatorial power is not political power. Political society is a human invention and contrivance, but this artificial thing once made has a nature of its own and hence has an applicable natural law. Society is "acting according to its own Nature" when it is "acting for the preservation of the Community" (section 149). "The first and fundamental natural Law ... is the preservation of the Society" (section 134). The first obvious consequence of this natural law of society is that all of the political rights of its members must be consistent with the preservation of the society. No society can concede to any of its members any political right that would lead to its destruction. To do so would threaten the preservation of its members, whose safety depends so much on the protection the society affords them. Now we come to a very great difficulty, and we must be very attentive to make sure that Locke does not put something over on us. Locke says the people are the supreme power even after the government is formed. He also says that the legislative power, .once established, is and remains the supreme power so long as the government continues to exist and function. Now how can there be two supreme powers? If the government is supreme, then we have not retained some natural power or right; we have lost all of the freedom and natural power of the state of nature, and then what is to keep government 6 within limits? On the other hand, if the people are supreme, what authority will the government have in time of crisis? And if the government cannot function with authority, how will it fulfill the purposes for which men established it in the first place? Here is Locke's answer. It is true that the supreme power remains always in the hands of the people, but not, Locke says, "as considered under any Form of Government" (section 149). In short, both the government and the people are said to be supreme, but not at the same time. Under government, the supreme power of the people, which cannot be transferred away, is completely latent and never to be exercised until by some calamity or folly the government might cease to exist. "This Power of the People," Locke tells us, "can never take place till the Government be dissolved" (section 149). As long as government exists, the legislative is the actively supreme power. But the power of the people. does not cease to exist, it only remains latent, and if the government should come to be dissolved, the supreme power will be wielded directly and actively by the people. Men transfer their natural powers to form political society, to live under laws that are humanly enforceable by an authority on earth set up by themselves. Political power originates from the people, from their natural powers, and it has for its purpose, their good: their saf~!j· and well-being. Now, what is the situation, accordmg to Locke, when the government misuses its powers, when the ruler or rulers use their power tyrannically, for then own benefit and not the good of the people? Locke answers by comparing the good prince and the !)•rant. ·First he tells us that at some times the prince must act without the direction of the law: ... the good of the Society requires, that se,-eral things should be left to the cliscretion of him, that has the Executive Power. For the Legislators not being able to foresee, and provide, by Laws, �April 1971 Whoever tells you that according to Locke the state of nature and the state of war are opposites has the matter in a hopeless jumble. • for all, that may be useful to the Cemmunity, the Executor of the Laws, having the power in his hands, has by the common Law of Nature a right to make use of it, for the good of the Society . . . (section 159). The executive may act not only without the sanction of the law, he may also make the laws "give way" to his power where blind adherence to them would be harmful, and he may go so far as to act contrary to the law for public good. "This Power to act according to discretion, for the publick good, without the prescription of the Law and sometimes even against it, is that which is called Prerogative" (section 160). The necessity for the executive's prerogative is obvious, but the danger is no less obvious. The prerogative has always grown most extensively in the reigns of the best princes. The people trust a good and wise prince even while he acts beyond the limits of the law, not fearing for their safety because they see that his purpose is to further their good. But even the best princes are mortal and have successors, and there is no assurance that one of them, claiming the precedent, will not make use of the enlarged prerogative to further his own private interests at the peril of the people's safety. "Upon this is founded that saying, That the Reigns of good Princes have been always most dangerous to the Liberties of their People" (section 166). According to this argument, what characterizes the wisest and best princes is not their obedience to and enforcement of settled law, but their service to the people. The scope of executive discretion is limited only by the proviso that it be used for the public good; a prince "who is mindful of the trust put into his hands, and careful of the good of his People, cannot have too much Prerogative" (section 164). But at this point, it seems to me, we encounter a severe difficulty. Since tyrants have always used "the public good" as their pretext for exceeding constitutional powers, "the good of the people" seems a dangerously vague test of whether the executive prerogative is being properly used. The good prince and the tyrant are alike in that they both act outside the law and even contrary to it; but one acts for the good of the people and the other for his own good. Is there some practical test to tell them apart? And who can be entrusted to make that test? Locke answers that the determination is made "easily" (section 161) and that the judgment lies with the people-"The People shall be Judge" (section 240). A tyrant is not simply one who uses political power outside the law; the best princes do that. A tyrant is one who pursues his own advantage at the expense of the people's safety and well-being, by means of the power they have entrusted to him. He uses their power to further his advantage at their expense. He makes his good separate from theirs; he takes himself out of their community. He puts himself outside their society, into a state of nature with regard to them. If he then uses force against them, it is without authority or right; he thus places himself in a state of war with them. The tyrant, by this argument, wars on the people and thus destroys their government and threatens their society. The power he uses was entrusted to him by the people, but only for other ends; and thus the power he wields is not political power, and he is no longer a political ruler. The people, naturally, defend themselves and their society, and their resistance to him is perfectly consistent with the preservation of society. The one who brings war again, who literally rebels, is the tyrant, and the people who resist him are acting as any men must who are in the state of nature and subjected to the use of force without right. Locke's teaching is addressed primarily to those who hold political power, for they are the ones most likely to fall into rebellion, and, he says, "the properest way to prevent the evil is to shew them the danger and 7 �The College injustice of it, who are under the greatest temptation to run into it" (section 226). But the teaching is also available to the ordinary run of men and Locke also, clearly, has a teaching for them. For those who are ruled rather than rulers, under any form of civil government, Locke has a teaching of alert suspicion. A people who know that they are the source of political power, that theirs is the supreme power (even though latent), and that they shall be judge of when the government has been dissolved by the prince, is more likely than other peoples to insist on limiting political power. As James Madison put it, "It is proper to take alarm at the first experiment on our liberties." What is Locke's teaching to the people? In the state of nature, all men have the natural power to be the judge of what is necessary to their preserVation. The right to judge when your life is in danger cannot be wholly given up to society. In a certain sense it is inalienable;· what power can legislate out of a man the sense of danger and the inclination to save himself? Locke says this right to judge is reserved by all men "by a Law antecedent and paramount to all positive Laws of men." But does this provide an excuse for perpetual disorder? No, Locke says, because "this operates not, till the Inconvenience is so great, that the Majority feel it, and are weary of it, and find a necessity to have it amended" (section 168). Is the government threatening the saf.ety of the people? That is the question of which the people shall be judge. \Ve may consider it an extremely difficult question for even the most highly trained, highly intelligent, and completely impartial judge to answer, but the people, Locke says, answer it "easily." How? Not by reasoning, but by feeling. \Vords and ideas do not influence such matters. Arguments or doctrines have no effect, he says. "Talk ... hinders not men from feeling" (section 94). Natural forces are unaffected by doctrines (sections 224 and 225). \Vhether there will be resistance to the rulers depends on what the people see and feel. \Vhen the great majority 8 of the people feel that their lives are in danger, "how they will be hindered from resisting illegal force, used against them, I cannot tell," Locke says. All governments feel this "Inconvenience" and Locke calls it "the most dangerous state which they can possibly put themselves in" (section 209), but then he adds that it is a state which is very easy to avoid. The prince who understands this matter avoids, as his greatest danger, allowing the people to see and feel a threat from him to their lives, liberties, and estates. He must make his good intention toward them manifest, so manifest that the people see and feel it. If he fails in this, and the people come to suspect him, he may be able for a time to maintain his place by force, but his political power is gone. Locke asks, \Vhen a King has Dethron'd himself, and put himself in a state of War with his People, what shall hinder them from prosecutiRg him who is no King, as they would any other Man, who has put himself into a state of \Var with them (section 239)? The king is no king. The government is dissolved. The prince is a tyrant, a rebel against society, and the people use their power to resist the tyrant, to preserve their society. Thus Locke's argument comes full circle, from the state of nature and back. \~That have we learned? \Ve all are presently in a state of nature except to the extent that civil authority exists and functions for our protection. It works and has force because we have contributed our natural powers to it. \Ve give up the exercise of our own efforts at self-protection on the understanding that civil society will do the job for us. But human nature is such that we cannot give up all of our powers to society. \:Ve are never entirely in civil societv; we are never entirely out of the state of nature. \Vhe~ situations arise such ·as the one· described earlier, the dark cit)' street, we find that the natural powers are �April 1971 "The Reigns of good Princes have been always most dangerous to the Liberties of their People." still there, and we will use them. And if the danger seems to come not from a single stranger there in the dark but from the political authorities, then we will react in the same way. If we feel ourselves vitally threatened, we will act, naturally, to preserve ourselves. A man who does not is a kind of living corpse, a zombie, or-as Locke describes a slave-so completely without the right to own anything that he does not even have the first claim to his own life. Locke sees this something held back, this vital and ineradicable remnant of the state of nature, as the principal clue to understanding what political society is. The inclination of self-preservation is thus, for Locke, the basis of civil society. The double strength ofthe teaching is obvious, and we in this country have long been its beneficiaries: rulers . who are very concerned not to make the people feel threatened;. citizens who are alertly suspicious of every action of their government, watching always to assure themselves that their powers are used for their good. In short, in nations taught by John Locke, limited government is likely to prevail, supported for opposing and complementary reasons by those who govern and those who are governed. What, then, is the weakness of which I spoke? What is the untruth? How can I call Locke one of the great subverters of mankind? Let me respond first by reminding you of another teaching you all know, or, in the case of the Freshmen, soon will know. When Crito tried to persuade Socrates to escape from prison, Socrates persuaded Crito that he must not escape-not even to save his life when the rulers were about to take it-because, he said, he was a child of the Laws, a slave of the Laws, and therefore he must not injure them to save himself. Socrates persuaded Crito-or at least silenced him-by the argument that everything he was he owed to the Laws of Athens. But surely we cannot be persuaded of that, for if ever there W8S a man whose essential being was not O\\'ed to civil society, that man was Socrates. In fact, the death sentence was pronounced because he would not give up everything to Athens. Socrates held back something that his nature would not allow him to surrender to the polis. But compare what Locke says we hold back-lifeand what Socrates holds back-not mere life but the examined life-and we begin to see the character of Locke's subversion. It is a subversion by subtraction, by diminution. For example, it is well known that Locke defined property as "life, liberty, and estate." Many have commented on how this definition expands and elevates the concept of property. But consider, also, how Locke debases and diminishes life and liberty by reducing them to property. Locke impoverished everything he touched; he was a kind of back-wards Midas. \Vhat does he tell us of virtues: of temperance, courage, wisdom, justice? The words hardly occur in his political book. What does he write of morality, ethics, friendship, generosity? He doesn't speak of them in his political book. It is as if to say by his silence that these are not essential to an understanding of the political, that they are not relevant to political power. Let us consider, as especially relevant for us of St. John's College, a liberal arts college under liberal, limited government, what Locke says and fails to say about education in his political book. It would not be accurate to say that he does not mention education, but it is true to say that he doesn't say very much about it. He does speak of it in a chapter entitled "Of Paternal Power," and there his purpose, chiefly, is. to make clear the distinction of paternal power and political power. To accomplish this distinction, he explains just why it is and how it is that parents have a rightful claim to authority over their children. The reason, it turns out, is that children need guidance until they can "shift for themselves." Once they can be presumed to have reached the age of reason, that is, old enough to "shift for themselves," Locke argues that parents cease to have the right 9 �The College to rule their children and even cease to have the power to rule their children, except for those parents who have property, and can control their sons by the prospect of an inheritance. Thus, when· Locke says that parents are "under an obligation to preserve, nourish, and educate the Children," he means that they are under an obligation to teach them to take care of themselves, to preserve themselves. Here again we see Locke's amazing capacity to impoverish everything. He reduces education to its lowest and most basic aspect and connects it with self-preservation. Finally, we must observe that Locke speaks of education, even in this modest form, only in the portions of the book that have to do with the state of nature and the law of natur-e. In the portion of the book that considers political society and government, education is not discussed. In short, education is thought to be of no political consequence; in a book that claims to set forth the origin, extent, and end of civil government, education is not worthy of consideration. Now-need I urge you to ask, So what? In a Lockean society, there is no essential place for liberal education, for education understood as something well beyond learning to "shift for yourself," for education understood as necessary for the examined life rather than mere life. But perhaps I draw too much, too quickly, from Locke's silence. Perhaps it will be more useful and more instructive for us to leave it at a question, from all of us to John Locke: In your society, what place would there be for St. John's College? I said at the outset that "this is a matter of deep concern to us, for to the extent that this nation is a Lockean society, our strengths and our weaknesses are related to the truth and the untruth of the teachings of Locke-which still go marching on." The extent to which this nation is a Lockean society 10 is uncertain and debatable. I know we are not entirely Lockean, for a purely Lockean civil society would not be viable, could not survive its first hostile challenge. But I return to Locke's strange Midas touch. Our greatest danger and our greatest weakness seems now to be a widespread malaise, an uneasiness that great things are lacking in our political scheme of life, that in the midst of our unprecedented affluence we are the victims of a grave impoverishment. My conclusion is that Locke is in great part responsible for both the affluence and the impoverishment. But once again let me retreat from the assertion to another question. To my first question Jet me now add this one, which may be the key to everything: Is it true that a man is in his natural condition when he is without government? Robert A. Goldwin has been Dean of St. John's College in An· napolis since July 1, 1969. Previously he \VaS Associate Professor of Political Science at Kenyon College and the Director of the Public Affairs Conference Center at The University of Chicago and later at Kenyon College, He is Editor of the Rand McNally Public Affairs Series, the latest volume of which is entitled How Democratic Is America? Responses to the New Left Challenge. The editor of three readers in international relations, he is also the author of "John Locke" in History of Political Philosopl1y (Rand McNaUy, 1963). In 1966 he \\'aS named a Guggenheim Foundation Fellow. He was one of the planners and the first Director of the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education of St. John's College in Santa Fe. Mr. Goldwin graduated from St. John's College in 1950, and received his Ph.D. degree from The University of Chicago. �Logic and Reason* By EDWARD SPARROW Significant of one of the attitudes prevalent in the modern age is the frequent use by intelligent people of the words "logic," "logical," and '1ogically" in a deprecatory sense. Vv e hear often of something being "all very logical" bu ~ for all tha~ opposed to common sense. \Ve hear people say that something or other follows "all very logically" from something else, but is, nonetheless, totally wrong. One sometimes hears the phrases "according to that system of logic," "according to your logic," or "according to the rules of logic which you adopt." And one even hears remarks to the effect that "you can prove anything with logic." Simultaneously with the growth of the use of such modes of expression arises a sort of obsession with the emotional, the paradoxical, the irrational, and interestingly enough, as if the depreciation of the logical were somehow connected with the depreciation of the public, the intimate. Not only is logic thus put into the coffin of the dry, the implacable, and the relentless. It is also, like a public enemy, unceremoniously buried, and on its tombstone is inscribed "the misleading," "the false," the "inhuman." Many do not even bother to look at the tomb, for it has for them become "the irrelevant," that is to say, "the meaningless.)) One thing, however, it is curious to note: the words ''reason," "reasonable," and '~reasonably" have not yet become as thoroughly subject to the same depreciation, although there are signs that such a development is not to be unexpected. Now because the Latin ratio from which we get "reason" translates in part the Greek logos, which is of course the root of "logic," one would expect that the neglect or odium attaching to the one would necessarily attach itself to the other as well. And so the differe~ce.in the esteem in which the two groups of *A lecture given at SL John's College in Annapolis in 1961. words are held makes an interesting subject of speculation. One is led to suspect that what should be a very warm embrace between the science, logic, and its object, reason, may be turning instead into the kiss of death; or that logic, which, in at least one tradition has some relation to life, has in the course of time become estranged from reason, so that it resembles nowadays nothing so much, in the manipulation of its symbols, as the rattling of the dry bones in the valley of destruction. · Now it is not my concern to anatomize logic or to discourse to you about Goedel's theorem and symbolic logic, for my ignorance of these things is only matched by my admiration for those who have mastered them. Nor is it my concern to show that the properly mysterious may be as much above the logical as love may be above justice. But since the neglect or odium which attaches itself to the "logical" in the minds of many has not yet totally polluted their estimation of the "reasonable," I should like to discover whether there may not be more life in the logical than many would grant; to put it another way: I should like to learn whether it may not be a ghost of logic that so many have buried as false, inhuman, and meaningless. To this end, I should like us to begin by examining together and possibly criticizing a certain formulation of the relationship between two quite distinct things, validity and truth. For the understanding of the relation of validity to truth which we shall examine lies very close to the root of those estimates of logic as dry, false, and irrelevant. I should then like to examine what people seem to be doing when they argue and see what the implications of this enterprise mav be. And if it turns out that we can say something significant on these two themes, I should like to combine them into at least a beginning of the understanding of hypothesis. Finally, I hope we can say something about the true and the false and that some relationship may appear between thought and, if I may use the word, reality. 11 �The College I. "Valid" is a term which in logic is predicated of arguments, inferences, and some of the "moods" of the syllogism. And "true" is something which is said of individual premises and conclusions. So there is no opposition between them. But a question does arise about their relationship to one another. Vvhat is the relation between the truth of the premises of an argument and the validity of the argument of which they are premises? Or, more exactly, can there be validity without truth? To . introduce the discussion I am going to read a few selections hom some contemporary writers on logic in order that you may see how the relation of validity to truth is presently understood and in order that the position which we shall examine this evening may be put in front of us in the words of those who maintain it. Augustus de Morgan in his book, Formal Logic, writes as follows: Logic has so far nothing to do with the truth of. the facts, opinions, or presumptions, from which an -inference is derived; but simply takes care that the inference shall certainly be true, if the premises be tme. Thus, when we say that all men will die, and that all men are rational beings, and thence infer that some rational beings will die, the logical truth of this sentence is the same whether it be true or false that men are mortal and rational. This logical truth depends upon the structure of the sentence and not upon the particular matters spoken of. (p. 1) Alonzo Church, in Introduction to Mathematical Logic, says: Traditionally (formal) logic is concerned with the analysis of sentences or of propositions and proof with attention to the form in abstraction from the matter. This disti-nction between form and matter is not easy to make precise immediately, but it may be illustrated by examples. "Brothers have the same surname; Richard and Stanley are brothers; Stanley has surname Thompson; therefore Richard has surname Thompson." The argument, it may be held, is valid from the form alone, independently of the matter, and independently in particular of tlre question whether the premises and the conclusion are in themseh·es right or wrong. The reasoning may be right though the facts be wrong, and it is just in maintaining this distinction that we separate the form from the matter. (p. 1) Our own sophomore logic manual puts it this way: 12 Minor logic is therefore concerned only with the formal validity of reasoning and not at all with its factual (material) truth. All these writers seem to consider logic, or, at best, "formal logic," to be concerned with logical form; and it would appear that a companion, if not a child, of this logical form is something called validity, correctness, logical truth, or, as in the case of Church, right reasoning. And it would further appear that this element, while not exactly opposed to truth, belongs, as it were, to another and possibly higher realm than truth. This would be so because of its close affinity to form, since form is traditionally a much nobler thing than matter; and truth is merely a predicate of logical form combined with logical matter. If, after all, one can show that the "A-A-A" form in the first figure or the "p implies q; p therefore q" form is valid regardless of truth of the major and minor premises, then it becomes possible to have a science of valid and invalid forms. And this knowledge, since it will bear on something necessarily prior to any determination of content, will be of greater import and significance than any knowledge of any particular argument. But before we go on to a more detailed consideration of the relation between truth and validity, I would like to try to justify very informally the remark that the understanding of the relation between the valid and the true which our authors have articulated lies close to the root of those estimates of logic as false and meaningless. If false premises can underlie a valid argument, logic will clearly be concerned with valid forms and lose its concern for truth. It will come to consider the very Jogoi through which we are human as unworthy of its abtention compared to the symbols for wordless x's, p's and q's which it will push around on paper. Formal deductive svstems will flourish, the authors of which, disavowing ~ny concern for truth, will ground their enterprise on valid inferential forms. Great enterprises of the past, whose authors considered the validity of· their reasoning as adding rather than subtracting from the merits of their work, will be reinterpreted as "forrnalh· deduotive systems" as arbitrary _in their starting points as thos-e more recently constructed, essentially tautologous, and unworthy of serious attention except as logical exercises. Lastly, in the eyes of many, a writer will tend to become the more respected the less "logical" he is, for being logical will have become synonvmous with bem; consisknt with a certain set of arbitrarily assumed stdrtm~ points, i.e., with being valid, .and the self-e,·idence o; premises will have become a question for psychology. not logic. \Vhen the form will thus have swallowed the matter, the valid annihilated the true, it will not be sucprising that the searcher for truth will look elsedlet �April 1971 than in argument and reasoning, will canvass the emotional in music and art, will seek it in nove1s, esoteric poetry, · and direct experience, and will ransack the private, the intimate, and the irrational, for that essential kinship to himself which he has given up the hope of finding in the reason. Now let us ask whether the relation between the validity of an argument and the truth of its premises admits of the simple solution offered by the writers mentioned, namely, that validity and truth have nothing to do with one another; that a valid argument may have false premises, and that false premises can yield true conclusions. Let us begin by looking at a very simple argument. Suppose you were to overhear the following conversation: A: B. A: B: A: Of course Socrates deserved to die. Why? He corrupted the youth of Athens. He did not. He was trying to educate them. So what? You might be tempted to join in the argument. But you might also be interested in analyzing it. In that case, you would note the following reasoning: A's argument: (Anyone who corrupted the youth of Athens deserved to die.) Socrates corrupted the youth of Athens. Therefore Socrates deserved to die. B's argument: (No one who tried to educate the youth of Athens corrupted them.) Socrates tried to educate the youth of Athens. (Therefore Socrates did not corrupt them.) A's reply: (Someone who tries to educate another may corrupt him.) It is evident in the first place that A gives the minor premise of his argument, that Socrates corrupted the youth of Athens, as an answer to B's question, 'V\Thy did Socrates deserve to die?" It is also clear that in doing so he intends to give the reason for his conclusion that Socrates deserved death. He thereby indicates his awareness that his bare assertion that Socrates deserved to die cannot, since he is not God, compel the assent of B or of anvone else without a reason. And he also shows his aware~1ess that to refuse or to be unable to give a reason to B, since they are on the same level, would be a sign either of intole;able pride or of pure prejudice. In the second place, it is evident that B recognizes that A's argument must carry the day and determine the question, even though to B's mind, the conclusion is surprising and doubtful, unless it can be shown, and he, B, will undertake to show it, that one of A's premises is false. Else he would not argue with A. Since he accepts A's implied major premise, that anyone who corrupted the Athenian youth deserved death, he must concentrate on proving the minor false. And this he does by trying to prove that the contradictory of it is true. In other words B also recognizes that A's argument will collapse if one of his premises is proved false. And so B sets up his own argument, the implied conclusion of which, resting on his own implied major premise, is that Socrates · did not corrupt the youth. Now B thinks that by having contradicted A's premise, with a reason of his own, he has established the falsity of it and hence has invalidated A's argument. A next, by his remark, "so what" implies that there might have been a "so ... something," that B might have produced an argument which would have invalidated his own. But he also indicates that B has not in fact done so. But why does B's argument fail in A's eyes? Clearly it is not because A disagrees with B's minor premise, that Socrates tried to educate the youth of Athens, for he admits it. What A denies is that together with the implied major, that no one who tries to educate another can corrupt him, produces the implied conclusion, that Socrates did not corrupt the youth. Now why should A think that the argument fails to produce the conclusion? The form of B's argument is perfectly valid; it is E-A-E in the first figure. It can only be that A thinks that the major premise of B's argument is false. By saying "so what?" he is in effect contradicting A's major by impliedly asserting the truth of its contradictory, to wit, that someone who tries to educate another may corrupt him. And obviously if someone who tries to educate another may corrupt him, the fact that Socrates tried to educate the youth of Athens can in no way determine the question whether or not Socrates corrupted the youth. A thus recognizes that B's argument must also collapse if the major premise of B's argument is false. Now the interesting thing about this argument for our present purpose is to note that in the minds of the disputants there is a real relationship between a valid argument and true premises. B recognizes, as does A, that A's argument is no longer valid if one of his premises can be proved false. And A recognizes, as B does, that B's argument also collapses if one of his premises can be proved false. In the minds of both, as, I daresay, in the minds of all of us, when we are not thinking about thinking, there is no possibility of such a thing as a valid argument one of whose premises is false. \Vhat makes A 1 S argument valid for him is his conviction that his premises are true 1 and what makes the same argument invalid for B is his conviction that one of them is false. Validity, in the minds of these disputants, seems to be so intimately related to truth as to be almost the offspring of it. 13 �The College But, someone might say, whatever intimate relationship A and B might assert between the validity of an argument and the truth of its premises is of no consequence as far as the formal logic of the argument is concerned. The logical form of A's argument, A-A-A in the first figure, is valid per se regardless of the truth of the constituent premises. But we must then ask this person what he means by "valid." He would reply, I believe, that a valid argument is one the conclusion of which follows necessarily from the form and relation to one another of the premises regardless of their truth. Such necessity would be called logical necessity and the argument would be called logically true. Very well then, let us agree to call an argument with true premises a good or sound argument and one with the proper form but true or false premises a valid argument. And let us concentrare on distinguishing a valid argument from a sound argument. If the valid is distinguished from the sound by the fact that the premises of a valid argument may be either true or false while those of a sound argument must be true, · the validity of a valid argument obviously accrues to it by virtue of the form in which it is cast. Let us then examine a bare form of a valid argument, say A-A-A in the first figure, one from which anything that could introduce the true and the false has been removed. Now since the matter has been left behind, and truth and falsity accrues to a premise by virtue of form and matter, it would seem to follow that both premises, MaP and SaM, are beyond the true and the false. So let us inquire whether the major premise, MaP is in fact beyond the true and false. A moment's thought will reveal to you that it is not beyond the true and false. For only what admits the true and the false can be contradicted. So that if the form we have under study does not admit the true and the false, it cannot be contradicted, any more than a pencil, an eclipse, or an auditorium can be contradicted. And if it cannot be contradicted, it can have no contradictory. And this is very strange indeed. For if it can have no contradictory, neither can any given universal affirmative major premise have a contradictory. Just as if area is denied to circle as such, it must be denied of any given circle. For if a given premise could have a contradictory, while the form of every one of them all could not have one, the property of having a contradictory would have to accrue to a given one from the particular matter of which it was made up. But the property of having a contradictory accrues to a given one from its combination of quantity and quality and not from the matter which makes it up. And any given universal affirmative does have a contradictory. One is therefore forced to conclude that the MaP form is not beyond the true and the false. \Vell then, if it is not beyond the true and false, how does it have the true and the false in it? It must be either 14 true or false but indeterminately neither. If so, it admits of a contradictory, MoP. Now of two contradictories it is well known that they cannot stand together. If one is true, the other must be false and vice-versa. Suppose MaP now to be false. To make that supposition is to recognize that MaP has turned into MoP, its contradictory, under our very eyes. For there is no motion of the mind involved in going from the assertion of the falsity of one contradictory to the assertion of the truth of the other, To say that MaP is false is to deny MaP, and that very denial is the assertion to MoP. To say that a statement is false is to assert the contradictory of it. To think not MaP is to think MoP. Consequently it may be said that to consider MaP false is to make MoP the major premise. But from MoP and SaM in the first figure (both true), nothing follows. Consequently if MaP is false, the argument is not valid. And the satne thing can be shown for all the other Can there be validity without truth? moods of the first and other figures. Each one requires for its validity that the premises be true. Consequently the distinction which was set up between a sound argument which had true premises and a valid argument which had premises which could be either true or false and hence which derived its validity from the mere form alone turns out to be specious: every argument with true premises will be valid and every valid argument has true premises and will be sound. To illustrate this point with reference, this time, to a specific example, let someone offer an argument in A-A-A in the first figure with a false premise which he asserts to be a valid argument regardless of the falsity it contains. Thus someone may say in order to make this point: "Every duck is a man, and every man is a fowl. Therefore every duck is a fowl." One instinctively and rightly wants to say, "No, that's not true. You're talking gibberish. No duck is a man and no man is a fowl. Therefore the �April 1971 conclusion doesn't follow (two negatives yield nothing)." Let us have the courage to voice our protests to our logician. Then indeed the argument does not prove the conclusion and the example does not exemplify what it was designed to exemplify. But our friend has not given up, for he will say to us, perhaps a bit patronizingly, "Sure, sure, I agree with you about the matter of these premises, but what we're concerned with is the fact that if every duck is a man and every m.an a fowl, then it follows necessarily, logically necessarily, I might add, that everv duck is a fowl. And it doesn't matter whether a duck is in fact a man or a man in fact a fowl in order for the conclusion to be formally necessary. Nor does it matter whether we think of ducks, men, or anything else. The form 'if all x is a y and all y is a z, then all x is a z is eternally valid.' Now then, be a good fellow and suppose that every duck is a man and every man is a fowl. Don't you see that you must affirm that every duck is a fowl?" But we may then reply to this fellow, "Indeed, if it were conceivable that every duck be a man and every man a fowl, every duck would be a fowl. But what are you doing when you say 'If every duck is a man,' and what are you asking me to do when you ask me to 'suppose that every duck is a man?' Have we not agreed that those beings which are rational, featherless, terrestrial, bipeds, of a certain average size, are called 'men', and that those beings which are of another size, irrational, winged, feathered, and aquatic, are called 'ducks'? And are you not therefore supposing by your 'it' and asking me also to suppose, that is, think, that all those things which are rational, featherless, and terrestrial are also irrational, feathered, aquatic, and smaller than themselves? Are you not in short asking me to think the unthinkable? You are, and I cannot do it. Nor can you, in my opinion, in this case. or in any other case where you take premises which you know to be false. The false, qua false is unthinkable and self-contradictory. As for your bare form, I have already showed you that your premises have to be true, and that your x's have to be in fact y's, and the y's in fact z's before the form can be .valid. And that means that your symbolism is impossible and misleading, for the only thing that can distinguish x from y and y from z is that none is either of the other two. But that is illegitimate; for by your 'if' you are asking me to suppose that that to which any name, symbolized by x, has been given, can also be that to which any other name, which you symbolize by y, could be given. And that can't be done. Let x be the scale of C sharp minor, and y the Empire Stare Building. I cannot conceive, nor can you, of that which is called the scale of C sharp minor being that to which the name Empire State Building is given. I can make the noises, if you wish me to, but nothing else. And you would be the first to say that logic is not the study of noises. You must devise a more accurate set of symbols." It is justified, therefore, to say that a valid argument is impossible unless the premises be true and that validity rests on truth. It can further be said that in any pure logical form exhibited symbolically on paper, such as A-A-A, there is a very restricted range of interpretation for various symbols. For any S only a certain amount of M's or P's are possible, namely those that can be conceived as belonging with that S. For those M's and P's which cannot be conceived as belonging with that S result in a false premise, and, as we saw, if the premise is false, the argument collapses. And conversely, for any M or P, only a certain limited range of S's are possible, namely those which can be conceived as being able to admit those P's and M's. It may also be said that since validity rests on truth and Every argument with true premises will be valid and every valid argument has true premises and will be sound. truth on form and matter, that validity rests on matter, i.e., on the conceivability, compatibility and incompatibility of what is thought about much more than it does on form. In fact, what the bare form SaM, MaP, SaP really means is that if you think about anything P as being predicated of something M, and that other thing, M, as being predicated of a third thing, S, then you cannot help thinking of that first thing P being also predicable of S. The validity, in short, of Barbara rests on the thinkability of predications, P of M and M of S, and only where such predications are thinkable will the form be valid. The dictum de omni as a principle of the syllogism should therefore be properly formulated as the cogitum de omni. And consequence, therefore, or the property of reasoning with which logic is primarily concerned, rests on what is thought about. It is hence incorrect to think of every valid argument as homogeneous with every other, such that Barbara, for example, could be the common form of all universal affirmative arguments in the first figure. The truth of one argu- 15 �The College ment is only like the truth of another, so that Barbara only reflects the analogical identity of every valid argument in that form with e\'ef)' other. It thus only reflects the identity of the activities that each mind goes through as it in any given argument moves through the predications which lead to the conclusions. Similarly, the truth of one statement is only like the truth of another, so that SaP only reflects the analogical identity of every true universal affirmative to every other. Truth is not univocaL In the last place we may go a bit further than do most logicians who maintain not only that true premises produce true conclusions but also that false premises can )~eld true conclusions. Since the false cannot yield the true, true conclusions only follow from, if they follow from anything at all, true premises. Furthermore, if as we ha1·e said, the false, qua false, is unthinkable and selfcontradictory, a false premise will also disintegrate as An hypothesis is thus a premise the doubt about whose truth is to be removed by the process called, appropriately, verification. will a false conclusion. And so nothing will follow from a false premise . and a false conclusion will not be a consequence of anything. * * * * * II. Now Jet us return to the example of Socrates and of his disputed deserving of death in order to explore the implications of A's thinking of himself as giving B a reason for his statement. You will recall that when B asked A why Socrates deserved to die, A replied that Socrates had corrupted the youth. In saying that, A thought he was giving a reason for his statement. And in A's argument, you will notice that after the premises the word "therefore" occurs. "Therefore" is the same sort of word as '-'thereat" or "thereafter." It is a compressed prepositional phrase with a demonstrative pronominal object "there" and a postpositive preposition "for." It means, in short, "for this." For what? Clearly "for this reason" is implied. A could just as well have said, "Sacra- 16 tes deserved to die, for he corrupted the youth of Athens." Now a little reflection will Jeveal that Socrates did many other things for which he did not deserve death, and that if anyone other than Socrates were to have corrupted the youth, he too should have met the same fate. Consequently 'Ne may say that although it is the whole predication or minor premise, Socrates corrupted the youth that is the reason why Socrates is worthy of death, it i; "corruption of the youth" that reveals why anyone, including Socrates, is worthy of death. But "corruption of the youth" is the middle tem1 in A's argument. So that the argument, in answering the question whyl gives in the middle term, the reason. It gives, in other words, that through which the predicate of the conclusion, being worthy of death, attaches to the subject of it, Socrates. 1l1e major premise of A's argument sets out the reason with its consequences; corruption of the youth has as its consequences meriting death. The minor shows that the subject is subsumed under the reason; Socrates corrupted the youth. And the conclusion sets out the obvious, that the consequences necessarily attach themselves to the subject; Socrates deserved to die. But there is another interesting thing about argument: A could equally well have said that Socrates deserved to die because he corrupted the youth of Athens. And if one were to ask A what is the cause of Socrates deserving death, A would reply "Socrates's corruption of the youth of Athens." Corruption of the youth thus mav he said to have among its effeCts or results the being worthy of death of the one who corrupts, and Socrates's corruption of the youth is the cause of the effect, Socrates's being worthy of death. Thus it seems that the middle term, which we identified previously with the reason, also in some sense intends the cause, so that reason and cause seem to be identical. And the major term, which we previously identified with the consequences of the reason, also intends the effects, so that consequences and effects also seem to be identical. Now if we examine what we think when we think "cause" one of its salient notes is that it is that through which or by which something is or happens. Of caused things, we say that they don't happen "by themselves," and that must mean that they happen, if they happen bY anything, by something other than themselves. Hence if it be correct to say that the middle term intends the cause, it will not be surprising to find that the middle term is also that by or through which the effects intended by the major term, being worthy of death, inhere in the minor term, Socrates. For the middle term is also a mean or through \Vhich between the minor term and the major term. Thus in A's argument, the major premise gi1·es the cause, corruption of the youth, and the effect. being worthy of death, without any specification of the one �April 1971 in whom these are manifested. The minor premise gives that in which the cause is, Socrates, and the fact that the cause is in it, corrupted the youth, a finite verb agreeing with its subject. And the conclusion through the middle term gives that in which the effect is, Socrates, and the fact that the effect is in it, is worthy of death, again a finite verb agreeing with the subject. In the same physical subject then, one might say, is the person, Socrates, the cause, his corruption of the youth, and the effect, his being worthy of death. And in the same logical subject, is the minor term, Socrates, the middle term corruption of the youth, and major term, being worthy of death. If such is the structure of cause and if it be truly revealed in the structure of argument, one \Vi111ook in vain for causes as s·isible events occuring temporally prior to their effects. One will find them only revealed through the contemporaneous presence of logical middle terms. They will also necessarily be im~sible and accessible only by thinking. And Hume will be quite wrong; the notion of cause will not arise from habit, but from reflection on the structure of reasoning, that is, giving reasons. But, someone might say, you have not got the cause through the middle term at all, because if anything is true of cause, it is that a cause must be sufficient to produce its effects. It is not enough for something to be a cause of something that wherever it is present its imputed effects are present. It is also required that the effects cannot occur without the cause. Logically speaking, the consequences, major term, must be consequences of the middle term and they will not be consequences of the middle term if they can exist without it. But in your example, being worthy of death cannot be an effect or consequence of corrupting the youth, since others are also worthy of death who have not corrupted the youth. So having corrupted the youth is not the cause of deserving death. And this is revealed in your not being able to convert your major premise completely, into ''everyone who is worthy of death has corrupted the youth." Therefore the middle terrn does not intend the cause. The point is well taken. But to meet it, we need only search for such a middle term as, in combination with the predicate, being worthy of death, will result in an universal affirmative fully convertible major premise. For full convertibility of such a premise will be the logical equivalent of the full commensurability of cause and effect. To say what such a middle term is is difficult, and if none can be found, those who advocate the abolishing of the death penalty "·ill ha\"e made their point. But let the following be suggested: the commission of such an act by a normally intelligent person as by its nature leads to the destruction of those things ·which men should seek to preserve by their living together among their fellows. Such a term might be fully convertible with being worthy of death, and if it were, any one who had committed such an act would be worthy of death and anyone who was worthy of death would have committed such an act. If the above analysis is right, it should be possible to convert the universal affirmative fully convertible major premise so as to make the consequent-effect now its subject and the reason-cause its predicate. Thus, everyone who deserves death has committed such an act, etc. And then, given a subject exhibiting the new middle terrn, Socrates deserves death, deduce the presence of the cause in the subject: Socrates has committed such an act, etc. In such a case one would be inferring a cause from an effect. And the middle term would intend not, as before, the reason-cause, but instead, the effect. It would intend not that through which the effect was present, but that The false in itself strictly is not: it is only in the true, as negation. through wi1ich the cause came to be known. In other words, it would intend a sign; for a sign is that through which something other than itself is known. Socrates's deserving death would be a sign of his having committed such and such an act. But in order to know that deserving death was a sign of having committed such an act, one would have antecedently to know the major premise; that is, one would have to know that everyone who deserved death had committed such and such an act. Now it is possible for us to know that things may be signs of other things, or that they may be effects of causes, and such knowledge comes to us from the observation of concomitant variations and the reflection that it is highly unlikely that things which vary concurrently are self-caused or things that happen by themselves. But the knowledge that such and such a thing is an effect of that cause or signifies that thing is not come by so easily. For we stand in the middle of things and we do not see the causes, i.e., the fully convertible major premises." But the measure of our knowledge is the extent 17 �The College to which we come to view more and more things about us as effects of particular causes, that is, as conclusions from premises. We express facts through sentences, and as we think these, we realize that they are either selfevident, to be made evident through middle terms, or else not to be made evident at all. For this is the same as saying that the things we apprehend are either selfcaused, caused through or by something other than themselves, or simply uncaused, that is, by chance. • • • • • III. It is at this point the search for the unseen causesthat is, for the fully convertible major premises-, that what we have said about the true being only consequent on the true comes together with what we have said about the reason-middle term of an argument intending the cause. They come together in the hypothesis and in that form of reasoning called the hypothetical syllogism. For what, after all, is an hypothesis? In its most simple form, it is a premise in which what manifests something is temporarily conceived or thought under some sort of middle term, a middle term whose conceptually necessary consequences are the very effects which are sought to be explained. If light be wave motion, interference patterns are possible. If the heavens move spherically, the stars may be seen to rise and set. If the elements be composed of more or less indivisible bits of matter, two substances can react in definite proportions by weight. It is a premise, further, about whose truth one is in doubt, but the truth of which can be known, if, from assuming it as true, the facts can be deduced. For the facts take the form of conclusions. And a conclusion, as we have seen, if it can be shown to be a consequence at all, can only be a consequence of the true, since it cannot be a consequence of the false. It is thus a premise the doubt about whose truth is to be removed by the process called, appropriately, verification. But it is not sufficient for the hypothesis to be true that the effects can be deduced from assuming it as true. Since a cause is commensurate with its effects, the middle term to be sought must be such that those effects are the necessary consequences of it and of nothing else. Since the appearance of the rising and setting stars can also be explained by a rotating earth, neither is the proper middle term between the stars and their rising and setting. The true middle term and true cause of that particular thing would have to be something common to both middle terms: not only would a necessary consequence of it be the rising and setting stars: it would also be true that no other motion could have the same consequence for an observer stationed on the earth. Logicians are right, therefore, since truth can only 18 follow upon truth, when they say that it is valid to affirm the conclusion when the hypothesis has been affirmed. But since they do not often stress that what makes the conclusion follow at all is the fact that the predicate-effect is .folded into or implied by the middle term, they are led to deny the validity of affirming the hypothesis after the conclusion has been affirmed. But this is not invalid at all, provided that the middle term is a true cause; provided, that is, that the middle term and effect are fully convertible: that the effect is truly a consequence of the middle term. Thus, in the case of Socrates and his being worthy of death, if we were to pick as middle term the commission of such an act ... and if his being worthy of death is given as true, the hypothesis can be validly and truthfully placed beyond the realm of doubt. For only the true breeds the true. Furthermore, we can now see why it is right, if the conclusion is denied, to deny the hypothesis. For to deny the conclusion is to say that what seemed to be a conclusion is false. But as we have seen, all that means is that some other conclusion, its contradictory, the observed facts as formulated in a sentence, is true. And since the true can only come from the true, and the true can only yield the true, the false can only be rooted in the false. Hence anything which made the false conclusion a consequent and to the extent that it did so, must also not be. Such is the rationale of a reduction ad absurdum proof. Take the following hypothetical sentence and assume the implied major, that anyone who corrupted the youth deserves to die. "If Socrates corrupted the youth, he deserved to die. But Socrates did not deserve to die. Therefore he did not corrupt the youth." From the falsity of the conclusion, Socrates deserved to die, it is right to deny the hypothesis, that Socrates corrupted the youth; for if not, we would have to maintain that Socrates both did and did not deserve to die. But it is equally true that it is proper to deny the conclusion if the hypothesis is denied. But only to the extent that the hypothesis makes the conclusion follow from it as a consequence. Suppose now that Socrates did not corrupt the youth but did introduce new divinities and that such an introduction made him worthy of death: "If Socrates corrupted the youth, he deserved to die. But Socrates did not corrupt the youth." It is valid to deny that Socrates deserved to die to the extent that his deserving of death is a consequent of his corrupting the youth. And if deserving death were truh a consequenc-e of corrupting the youth, that is, if cor· rupting the youth were convertible with being worth,· of death, it would be valid to deny Socrates's deserving death. But deserving death is not truly a consequence of corrupting the youth: it is a consequence of commiting such an act as by its nature tends to the destruction, etc. Since. therefore, deserving death is not a true consequence of �April 1971 corrupting the youth, Socrates's deserving death can stand despite the falsity of the hypothesis. But one has only to think of something which would be convertible with corrupting the youth of Athens in order to see the validity of denying the conclusion after the hypothesis has been denied. Thus, "if Socrates corrupted the youth of Athens, he injured their souls. But Socrates did not corrupt the youth of Athens." It is perfectly valid to conclude that he did not injure their souls. And this because corruption of a youth and the injury to his soul are convertible terms. We may say as a result of this investigation that consequence seems to reside in fully convertible major premises, and that only because it does reside there is it possible for reasoning to move from one statement to another. But if that is so, any symbolism of hypothesis such as if p The thing thought must be purely significant of the thing that is. then q; p therefore q is radically deficient. The reason is not only that p, and at least r, and possibly s and t as well, must be true before q can in fact be implied by p, but also that p and q cannot be any premise and any . conclusion different from one another only to the extent that each is not the other. Both must be restricted to such premises as conceptually lead to such conclusions and to such conclusions as are in fact consequent on such premises. And that means that there must be a fully convertible r in there somewhere. * * * * * IV. It would seem appropriate at this point, since we have spoken so much about the true and the false, and since logic takes the true and the false asabsolutely fundamentaL to trv brieBv to make a few remarks about each of them and· tl1en to try to think about the relation between truth and-reality. The false, you will . recall, was unthinkable in itself. It was self-contradictory. \Ve saw that it immediately resulted in a negation of the false assertion, which negation itself was a true negation. Its characteristic manifestation is therefore "not. ... " Now "not ..." is an adverb, that is, it is always used to modify something. If we want to think of it as stripped of its adverbial trappings, we have to think no, pure and simple, and that is not to think at all. To try to think pure "no" is just like trying to see pure darkness. And just as darkness is only apprehended through illuminated things, so no is only thought through true affirmations of negation. The false in itself strictly is not: it is only in the true, as negation. It is even too much to say that the false is not, for we are saying that it is not. One should rather say "false not" or, even better, nothing at all, for even that much is mere noise. We can, therefore, drop the word "false" from the voca bulary since we do not mean anything by it other than tme negation. But that we may keep. And what of the true? \Vhat do we think when we think that a thing is true? Let us attack the problem this way. \V'hat is the difference between saying "I am lecturing" and "It is true that I am lecturing." It would seem to be the same as the difference between requesting someone to assume that the earth moves around the sun and that it is true that the earth moves around the sun; or as the difference between asking "Are you lecturing?'' and "Is it true that you are lectnring?" And there does not seem to be any difference at all. Any affirmation or assumption or even queslion is at the same time an affirmation or assumption or question of its truth. The phrase "It is true that ..." does not add anything to an affirmation. \Ve may therefore also drop the word "true" from the vocabulary, although we may retain "affirmation," understanding thereby necessarily affirming something. Now what is the relation between an affirmation and a negation? Is there any priority of the one. over the other? A moment's reflection \Vil1 reveal that affirmation is prior, for even a negation is an affirmation of negation. And if someone were to say that that is a specious argument, because it is just as possible to say that an affirmation is a negation of a negation? He would be wrong, for even a negation of a negation is an affirmation of that negated negation. * * • • • V. Let us now turn to the great question, what might be the relation of affirmation to "reality," "what is," or "being"? The first thing we should look at is the hypothesis again, but this time from a fresh point of view. If, as we have been maintaining, an hypothesis is a premise \vhich we do not know whether to affirm or deny, but which, if affim1ed, gives the middle t·erm throngh which the conclusion follows, it follows that we can speak about premises being in themselves and prior to our coming to know whether to affirm or deny them, either affirmable 19 �The College or deniable. The enterprise of hypothesis and verification is inconceivable without this supposition. And indeed, not only is hypothesis impossible, but any question at all is impossible if such is not the case. But we have seen just now that pure negativity is unthinkable and selfcontradictory and that we can only apprehend it in the form of an affirmation of negation. Therefore if it is possible to speak about premises that are in themselves, it can only be affirmable premises that are in themselves. But what in the world can it mean to have a premise that is affirmable in itself? A premise can only be in the one who thinks it, if it is in anything. But what is it then that is in itself and that one doubts whether it should be affirmed or denied? When we want to find out whether something is true, what is the something about which we want to make the determination? If it is not the premise, and that it cannot be, it can only be that which the premise asserts. But the premise asserts what something is. Consequently, what is in itself and prior to· our coming to know it, must be what something is, i.e., being. And the affirmation, the premise, must be the being in us of what is also in itself. But how is this double mode of being possible? We have been suggesting it during the whole course of this evening, identifying facts with conclusions, middle terms with causes, and predicates with effects. And every time we spoke of intentions-of middle terms intending causes, of major terms intending effects, and of minor terms intending physical subject. We seemed to have been moving swiftly from thought to being and back again and "intending" has been our vehicle of passage. But what is it to intend? And how does it solve the problem? Let us return to the example "every man is a duck." I take it as fixed and given that none of us, no matter what we may be or what our habits may be, invariably says "quack-quack" or paddles about on the surface of the water. Now you will recall that when we had that example before us we asked our logician friend the following question: have we not agreed that those beings which are rational, featherless, terrestrial, bipeds, of a certain average size, are called 11 IDen," and that those beings which are of another size, irrational, winged, feathered, and aquatic, are called "ducks"? We pick this example because of the relation which it reveals between the name and the named. Clearly Now to intend is exactly the same thing as to mean: we use them synonymously, e.g., I didn't mean to do that; I didn't intend to do that. Both are verbs referring to activity. The status of the word then is clear: it is in the gap between me and what I mean, what I intend, or that to which I want to point. It itself is used as a mean between these two extremes, and it is highly doubtful whether I can mean, intend, or point without it. Its use is to help others and myself to come to mean what I mean. The end of its use is that both come to mean the same thing. If the above analysis is correct, it follows that if what is meant is self-cm;tradictory or unthinkable, the name through which it is intended will be a mere voice-sound, a mere word; for since what is self-contradictory cannot be entertained, there will be nothing to intend. Thus if To ask a question is to seek for being. the voice-sound, ''the square root of two" is used to mean "that number which, multiplied by itself, is equal to two," _and it can be shown that there is no such number, number, again, being used to intend "a plurality of units" (and it is not altogether clear what else the word is used to mean), "the square root of two" will be mere noise, acoustically different from "the square root of three," but every whit as meaningless, i.e., lacking in a meant. So far, then, we have three things, the speaker, the word or name, and what the speaker means. But now our question arises again: what is the relation between what duck" are each he means and what is? Now as a synonym for what a speaker means, Jet us use "what a speaker thinks." For we use these phrases synonymously: Vvhat do you mean? \1\That do you think? names; but their being called names can only mean that Say \vhat you mean; say what you think. To the meant, insofdr as they are names, they name something \vhich then, and to the intended and the pointed to will correspond the thought, which is the analogous passive participle of the active verb to think. It is not a noun intending, I don't know what, a rather opaque blur, such as in the phrase "Greek thought." It is a passive participle, and this indicates that what it modifies is being acted on by the one thinking it. So now the question enough the voice-sounds "man" and 41 is not itself a' name. They point to something or tend to something. Or rather, since the activity of tending or pointing is more properly in the speaker or thinker than in the name itself, one who uses them uses them to point to or tend. A Dame, in other words, is such on1y in its use. The speaker intends -something through the name. 20 �April 1971 has become, what is the relation between the thing . thought and what is? Let us put the question in another form. \Vhat is includes this auditorium, you, the patient and long-suffering audience, John Glenn's space capsule, and many other things as well. For of each of them I can say "it is." Now these are all things that we think of or about; so that as a s~·non~'m for "what is," "being," or "reality,'' I feel free to speak of the things of or about which we think. So the question narrows down to this: what is the relation between what we think and what we think about. Or rather it is this: what is the relation between the thing thought and the thing thought about' Only one answer seems possible. They must be the same, and yet the thing thought must be about or of the thing thought about. But '' Ldt Lind of relation is that? To try to answer this question, we must ask what sorts of things are of or about other things. Now newspaper articles are about things, books and lectures are about things, and photographs and images generally are of or about that of which they are photographs and images. And what all these have in common is that they are means through which one can move in order to get to something else. In other words, they are signs, for a sign, you will recall, is that through which something other than itself is known. Their significance precisely lies in their power not to be themselves. The more they are themselves, the less they are significant. And so what I think must be a sign of. what I think about. But these other signs also. share something else, namely, that they must all be known in themselves before what they signify can be known through them. One must learn what people use words to intend, and the sound and appearance of those words before one can use them either to mean things by them or to learn what others intend by them. One must find the article before learning w~at ·someone says is going on in Algeria. There is a kind of obstruction or opacity in the thing itself which must be overcome before the thing becomes transparently significant. Since this is so, one may call these imperfect s1gns. But I do not have to know you, this audience, as a thing thought before I can know this audience as a thing thought about. Indeed, the existence of a thing thought is onlv arrived at after one begins to reflect on the possibililv' of thinking about anything. I am never aware of things as things thought. \\That I think when I think this audience takes me directly and transparently through to t1li<; ;mclience. If it did not I could never get-to make lhc distinction' between thing thought and thing thought about at all; for I could never have the occasion to think that what I thought might be different from what I think about. The sign therefore must be such as not to hinder the proceeding in any way. It must therefore be a perfect sign; and the relation between what I think and what I think about or of therefore must be one of pure significance. The thing thought must be purely significant of the thing that is. It might be possible to carry this analysis out for affirmations and arguments as well as names, and in each case it would probably turn out that the relation would have to one of pure significance. But I think it is now time to stop and, bearing in mind our . initial resolve to seek for life in logic, emphasize a few of the conclusions which this study of the implications of reasoning seems to lead us to affirm. The first is that logic is permeated throughout with logos and ratio. \Ve meet them not only in the triple sense of argument, word and reason. \Ve also meet them in the sense of re1a tion, where the \Vord is a mean between myself and what I mean through it. \Ve meet them in the middle term which unites the minor term with the major term, in the cause, which unites the subject with the effect, in the sign, which unites the signified with the one for whom it is significant, and again in the middle term as a mean between a thinker and the why of things. Last of all, we meet them in the thought itself, a mean between being and the thinker. But in the second place, we must also notice that every affirmation is true. But we must add that it is possible to utter many sequences of words which are not affirmations. It is possible that the ignorant, the bigoted, and the deceiving, can trespass on the good will, credulity, and compassion of others by making them think that the noises they make are significant. The road to the revelation that not everything that is sayable is thinkable is a long and hard one. But it is there. For dialectic is with us, and she can reveal to us the ultimate absurdity of our false opinions and the meaninglessness of the sentences by which we try to signify them. But finally, and perhaps most significant of all, is the understanding which we get of a question. For a question is in truth a questing, that is, an activity, the activity of searching and seeking. But we can see now that it is also a seeking for affirmation, and that this is inconceivable without the existence of the affirmable. To ask a question, in other words, is to seek for being. Doubt is rooted in possibility. Edward C. Sparrow, Jr. received his B.A. degree from Harvard College and his LL.B. degree from the Harvard Law SchooL He then sen·ed for a time with the Nev;• York Legal Aid Society. He received his M.A. degree from Teachers College at Columbia U~i\·ersitv. A Tutor at St. John's College in Ann::~polis since 1957, he sen·ecl as Acting Director of the Integrated Liberal Arts Curriculum at St. Mary's College, California from 1964 to 1966. · 21 �NEWS ON THE CAMPUSES PAUL MELLON GIVES ST. JoHN's $1,000,000 St. John's College received a major gift of one million dollars from Paul lvlellon, Class of 1944, in December, 1970. In transmitting his gift, Mr. Mellon, an Honorary Fellow of the College, strongly ·endorsed the Annapolis and Santa Fe colleges. "St. John's has demonstrated through the lives and careers of its alumni the validity of its distinctive program in the liberal arts, begun some three decades ago," he said. "St. John's stresses the essential unity of knowledge," Mr. Mellon stated. "To my mind, the College's program constitutes a cohesive and challenging learning experience for young men and women. Mr. Mellon also noted with approval the decision of the St. John's Board that the College. remain small so that a close personal relationship could be possible between students and Tutors. He cited the fact ·that certain large ously graduated from Yale University and had received an M.A. degree with honors in history from Cambridge Uni· versity in England. Over the years his interest in the College has been evidenced by personal gifts and by grants to its endowment fund, building program, and current budgets from Old Dominion Foundation, of which he was the founder. Most of these grants have been on a matching basis. In 1958 the College's Board of Visitors and Governors named the new science laboratory building Mellon Hall in his honor. At that time he was also named an Honorary Fellow of the College. Presently he is serving with Mr. Mark Van Doren and Mr. Richard 11 universities were now seeking to estab- lish colleges of the size and character of St. John's within their own campuses. "I consider it extremely important that St. John's College attain as firm a financial base as possible over the next several years, since its mission on the American educational scene was never more important than today.)' l'vlr. Mellon's interest in St. John's dates to 1940 when he enrolled as a freshman in order to experience for nearly a year the College's unique liberal arts curriculum. He had previ- 22 Paul Mellon F. Cleveland as Honorary Co-Chairmen of the National Committee for St. John's College. This Committee was created in anticipation of the 275th anniversary celebration planned for the fall of 1971. Mr. Mellon expressed hope that his gift would serve as a catalyst and a challenge for others. In accepting the gift, President Richard D. Vleigle expressed the deep gratitude of the College for ll!r. Mellon's support and confidence. At a time when private colleges are confronting grave financial difficulties, Dr. Weigle said that the Mellon gift would greatly strengthen the academic program on both campuses. President Weigle indicated that the Santa Fe share of the Mellon gift, which totalled $651,000, would be used. first, to eliminate debt there, and to ensure against a deficit in the current fiscal year. The remaining amount will be placed in a special fund to be drawn on to match gifts raised during the Anniversary campaign. Announcement in Santa Fe of l\lr. Mellon's gift was received with appreci· ation by the local community as weil as the College. An editorial in the Santa Fe new-;paper, The New Mexican, guoted :\lr. Mellon's statement on the d1sbnct"~ program being demonstrated throu;'t the lives and careers of the alumm. The editorial commented, "This i' high praise indeed, and well me~:~::' in our opinion." The '\Titer addtc.. •' is also noteworthv that the St. J. :.: concept of liberal education_ h.> spired other colleges and umn.·r:.:::~-c throughout the country to offer,. ;·o:o ations of the St. John's program. �April 1971 SANTA FE PRESENTS RADIO SERIES A series of conversations between St. John's Tutors and students at Santa Fe are no\v being broadcast every other Saturday morning by a local station, KTRC. "A College in Action" is the title of the half-hour programs, as suggested by Dean William A. Darkey, who was a participant in the first discussion and introduced the series. The conversations are representative of the various types of classes which constitute the College's unique liberal arts curriculum. Their purpose is to demonstrate the dialectic approach to learning used at St. John's and to encourage the listener to read or reread the subject works. The first. three programs were based on a comparison ·of the Declaration of Independence and the U. S. Constitution, Robert Frost's poem "The Draft Horse," and Euclid's definition of a straight line. Tutors leading these discussions included l\1r. Darkey, Robert M. Bunker, Frank K. Flinn, David C. Jones and Ralph J. Quintana. Participating students \:vere seniors Jonathan L. Brewer, Maya Contractor, R. David Esdale and James F. Scott; junior Mark D. Jordan, and freshmen Claire Kurs, Michael Beall, Dan Blake, Dobbie Kerman, l\Jary Ridout, and Celia Yerger. GRADUATE INSTITUTE AWARDS FELLOWSHIPS Eleven New Mexico school teachers will receive fellowships this summer to the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education held each vear on the Santa Fe campus. Each fell~wship will cover all fees for the four summers required to complete the advanced course. Graduate Institute Director Robert A. Neidorf said thev are looking for promising te;-~chers 'i'i~·ho are interested in the Institute's unique liberal arts curriculum and who appear to be committed to a career of classroom teaching in the are:1 where they now reside. Discussing the first "Civilisation" film during a reception are James P. Underwood, President of the Annapolis Fine Arts Foundation (left), Mrs. James L. Motley, and Robert A. Goldwin, Dean of the College in Annapolis. T11e two institutions are co-sponsoring the film series. Photo: Anthony Drummond. "Although the program differs markedly from the conventional teacher-training curriculum, we believe it has been an unqualified success as a source of enrichment and inspiration for its students, and ultimately for their students," Mr. Neidorf said. Inaugurated in 1967, the Institute offers an eight-week program of studies based on the curriculum and seminar methods of St. John's College. The four subject areas are Literature, Philosophy and Theology, Politics and Society, and Mathematics and Natural Science. They may be taken in any order, one per summer. "CIVILISATION" COMES TO ST. JoHN's Santa Fe was one of the first communities in the nation to show the "Civilisation" film series, under the auspices of St. John's College and the Museum of New Mexico. The national program of free distribution of the films to small colleges is sponsored by the National Gallery of Art, the National Endowment for the Humanities, and the Xerox Corporation. Mr. Howard Adams, Deputy Administrator of the National Gallery, came to Santa Fe for the January lOth opening. The renowned color film series on the cultural life of Western man, written and narrated by art historian Kenneth Clark, is also being shown at the College in Annapolis until May 23rd. The series is being sponsored by the College and the Annapolis Fine Arts Foundation. At the opening of the Annapolis "Civilisation" series, Mr. P. James Underwood, President of the Annapolis Fine Arts Foundation, and Dean Robert A. Goldwin, were hosts to over SOO persons at a reception following the film. On both campuses two showings of the series have been arranged because of the overflow audiences each Sunday afternoon. 23 �The College CAMPUS NoTES Laurence Berns, Tutor, published a review of Yves Simon's Freedom of Choice in the Review of Politics, January, 1971. The book was translated and edited by Peter C. Wolff, Class of 1944, former St. John's College Tutor. Mr. Berns spoke of the book as "very lucid, with a most interesting discussion of freedom and causality." The old Santa Fe Association has commended Tutor John Chamberlin for his work in investigating and charting the route of the Acequia Madre, a 360-year-old irrigation ditch which runs through the city. As a result of his work the Acequia Madre has been included as a historic landmark in the State Registry of Historic Properties. The local newspaper, The New Mexican, cited 'his activities in a fullpage article with photographs. Geoffrey J. Comber, Tutor and Assistant Director of the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education, attended a meeting. of. the Maryland State Teachers Association in Baltimore in October to recruit students for the summer program in Santa Fe. In addition he organized two seminars for previous. Graduate Institute students in Baltimore and Washington, D. C. Tutors Geoffrey J. Comber, Alvin Main, Nicholas Maistrellis, John Sarkissian, and Robert L. Spaeth are conducting the Spring 1971 Adult Community Seminar using Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales," Freud's "A General Introduction to Psychoanalysis," Joyce's "Portrait of the Artist as a Young I\1an," Mann's <~Tonia Kruger," Nietzsche's "Genealogy of Morals," Shakespeare's "Measure for Measure," and Shaw's "Man and Superman." George Doskow, Tutor, has been serving as the Administrative \lice~ President for the Anne Arundel Cou,..ty Chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union. Annapolis Treasurer Charles T. Elzey attended a meeting of the Eastern Association of College and University Business Officers in To- 24 Annapolitans participate in life figure drawing classes sponsored by St. John's. The classes, which are open to students and the general public, are conducted by the College's Artist in Residen::-c Robert A. Cole. Photo: Ed Boyce. ronto, Canada, in November. During December he attended a National Association of College and University Business Officers Investment Vvorkshop in Chicago. Topics under discusswn included college insurance problems, the impact of tax reform legislation, the total return concept in the investment field, and the new trend toward unionism in the aca·demic sector of higher education. Tutor Harry Golding and St. John's students participated in the 1970 Science and Technology Exhibition sponsored by the Annapolis Chamber of Commerce in November. Board member LeRoy E. Hoffberger has been elected Chairman of the Board of Union Federal Savings and Loan Association in Baltimore. An active civic leader, he is also chairman of the Baltimore City Hospitals Commission, president of the Hoffberger Foundation, a director of the \Valters Art Gallery, and a board member of the Associated Jewish Charities. An article entitled "The Missing Sense of the Past" by Robert A. ?\' eidorf, Tutor and Director of the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education in Santa Fe, was published in the January 1971 issue of The Center Magazine. On February 28th he delivered a lecture "Love of Form" at St. ~lary's College in California. Thomas Farran, Jr., Director of Alumni Activities, has begun his second year as chairman of the Partner-Membership Campaign for the Yl\!C:\ m Severna Park, Maryland, handling that organization's fund-raising for its opetating expenses. He also serves on t;re Committee of Management, and 15 t•K representative to the YMCA (:\nne Arundel) County Board of Dir<~·tc•,':• Tutor Robert D. Sacks of SJnto ! ' will begin his sabbatical this summc: by going to Israel to start \\TirW; " commentarv on the book of Gmc~> \:V. Kyle' Smith, Tutor Emcr::::o. '. a member of the Board of Dm~·tu:o ·the )Vestminster Foundation of_ .'::• o+ •r.napolis, Inc., an d a m~mber ·• ·~-~ Local Advisory Comn11ttee of dc:t �foundation. He also has completed going through Cah·in's works for his views on \Var and has written a brief introduction to these vi·ews which ·wi11 be one of a series on \Var sponsored by . the Local Commi !tee of the foundation. Hobert L. Spaeth, Tutor and Asssistant Deon in Annapolis, attended a conference on campus disruptions at the University of J'dichigan Center for Continuing Legal Education in August 1970. At St. John's he is the director of the February Freshman Program. The ;\b,-or of Annapolis recently appointed Lim to the City'5 Board of Housing Appeals. ;\ lr. Spaeth is also a member of a CitY-County Joint Committee on the Property Tax Differential. John S. Steadman, Tutor and Assistant Dean at Santa Fe, participated in a panel on "Education for the Future" at a January 13th meeting of the Los Alamos, New lllexico, chapter of the American Association of Universitv \\lomen. 1\lr. Steadman read a paper. entitled "\Vhy Schools?". Leo Strauss, Scott Buchanan Distinguished Scholar in Residence in Annapolis, has completed a book entitled Xenoplwn's Socrates, and an introduction to Simon Kaplan's translation of Hermann Cohen's Religion of P.eason Out of the Sources of Judaism. He has published an article on Plato's Euth1·demus in Interpretation, Summer 1970 issue. During i'vlarch 1971 he gave a lecture at the Baltimore Hebrew College on Hermann Cohen. Next bll and spring he intends to gi\·e a course on Nietzsche at the College. President P.ichard D. \Veigle was selected "Boss of the Year" bv the Annapolis Chapter of the Natio~al Secretaries Association in January. Nominated b,- .\Irs. IsabclJc Simpson, his '<:~:re::ry fur fiftc:cn y·~·:ns. \lr. \Veigle ·::~~ Lonurl'cl <1t J di1L·:cr ~ittcnded b\· i1lcm bcrs of the Coilc~e and the A1;. napulis communih·. His name wil1 be :.ubmittcd to the· i11tc:rn~ttionuJ "Boss uf the Year" progr~nn. An article entitled "H~ Photography of the Orion Nebula with a HalfAngstrom Filter" by Ray Williamson (with R. R. Fisher) appeared in Astronomical Journal, Volume 75, Number 5, 1970. Mr. \Villiamson received a National Science Foundation Summer Research Participation Fellowship for College. Teachers which he took during the summer of 1970 at the University of Maryland. He also has received a National Science Foundation Academic Year Extension Grant for Astronomy Research from Decem her 1970 until September 1972. SANTA FE ASSOCIATE ELECTED PRESIDENT OF MYSTERY WRITERS OF AMERICA Richard Martin Stern, who is chairman of the St. John's College Library Associates in Santa Fe, has been chosen president of the Mystery \Vriters of America for the coming year. He will be installed during the annual convention dinner in New York City on . April 30th. He has directed the successful Book and Author Luncheons conducted by the Associates in Santa Fe for the benefit of the College Librarv and St. John's in generaL Thev are' now in their third year, with tl;e 1971 spring series scheduled for April 16th and May 14th. lvlr. Stern won an M\VA "Edgar" for his first mvsterv novel some vears ago. His latest book, Murder in~ the \Valls, is due for publication by Scribner's in April. TWENTY-THREE IN FEBRUARY FRESHMAN CLASS IN ANNAPOLIS Twenty-three students, mostly transferees from other colleges and universities~ began their co11cgc educations ;1gain as freshmen at the College in Annapolis February 1st. The Fcbruarv freshman class included students from nine states, the District of Columbia, Puerto Rico, and British Columbia. Some of tile nine -z--_:_;_, teen men trc.::sfem::: from Antioch Cc~~:'. .\'lellon UniwrsiiT. -:..-... rcrsill·, Hood Colle~=- ·,· lege~ ·Reed College~ ~~ of 1\Jusic of the ,_.:_ ,_ Rochester. the Uni,-e:-:-:: , the Univtrsin· of Io';'.~ ;,-:_-rersi !I of :i !2:-danc :. .·;.-vision. Approximateh· 1\Ye:::::..:::. "" of the new class r~c.-o i.,. _ Six students were ~\.:.-'.r.­ Scholarship Fil•dists. :~: letters of cc:-:::~1Cl~:...::_':_. students attend;:-d pu"::~:...: attended DJro2hiJl c:- :--~ and one • rec·ein:d ~­ equil·alencT diploma. ·:· are carh· entrants to 5:. ·.___ _ to the College before ;::;,c, ,_ . high school. T1m zc alumni. tv;o ha\·e a ::::~·-:.:. -· ----enrolled at the CoL=-¢ married to a St. J ok·: former students 2lso ~-::-::: teen students were i::: ::::,,_ their graduating class :.= ·-< A student 11·ho traiO.•"~: begins as a freshman 2:1.. credit for couc;es hlc-. ,, student who enters ~'- -F·ebruan· ;;"ilJ contir.::.:: coursts in a su:nmer :?=--~---"" STUDEKTS FoR:Ir RESCUE U:-;-n Su.r.-/ _. Santa Fe students :o~ Search and R=ue L.:.. '.· locating and .:iding ~-- _. nearb,- rnount2n are:;::__ ~J~nts ar~'~'ece:~?ng ?':-'~ aJd SUTil•c.l ..:. .. d 0~~niqutS. T:-.t:,- ~:-;: on c::=. law and er;-:;:::~enc-:_;- --~­ 1 needed. The S2c cd Fe car::::•c the fc8:!-::::~ :: :he ~ ivfou:-.~J.i:-.: t: :-::-iih:--:-:::. which i~:.~::.C-;: :he :F~-­ ~nca and ::::2:1·,- (:_:tdo~·:: :~­ inc1uC:n=: .-f::: ~-'-'PC~.. and c"Jm:;:: ~'" ~:-:ds. �The College FIRST ANNAPOLIS PROVOST NAMED Mr. Paul D. Newland, first Provost of the College in Annapolis, assumed his duties at St. John's on February 1, 1~71. Fallowing a regular meeting of the Board of Visitors and Governors in early December, Mrs. Walter B. Driscoll, Chairman of the Board, announced his appointments as Provost and Tutor. Mr. Newland's appointments were recommended by President Richard D. Weigle following four months of search 7 interviews, and consultations with a joint Faculty Search Committee. Tutors from both campuses served on the Committee. The Provost, a newly created position, has executive authority for the instruction, discipline, and government of the College in Annapolis and is responsible to the President. Prior to coming to St. John's, Mr. Newland was Executive Vice President at Franklin and Marshall College, Lancaster, Pennsylvania, where he also served as Assistant Secretary of the Board of Trustees. In addition he is President of the Middle-Atlantic Educational Research Center (MERC), a computer consortium of small colleges. For twelve years prior to his appointments at Franklin and Marshall, Mr. Newland held executive positions with the Hamilton ·watch Company. He was successively Director of Public Relations and Director of Merchandising. From 1961 to 1967 Mr. Newland was President and Treasurer of Standard Time Corporation in the Virgin Islands where he negotiated the acquisition of that firm for the Hamilton \Vatch Company. He was an assistant instructor in fine arts at Ohio State University and associate professor in fine arts at Mount Union College, as well as the Director of Academic Schools of the United States Marine Corps. From 1950 to 1952 he was an informational specialist with the Federal Civil Defense Administration, serving Plwto: Edward 1. Edahl. Paul D. Newland Provost, St. John's College in Annapolis as writer, producer and director of radio and television shows, and speeches on civil defense matters for Congressional and celebrity personalities. In 1952 he won first prize award for the best network education program for children presented by the. National Association of Education by Radio and Television. · Mr. Newland received a B.A. degree from Heidelberg College in Ohio and an M.A. degree from Ohio State University where he also studied for a doctoral degree. In addition he attended Denison and Catholic Universities. He and his wife Beth are parents of three children, Paul, Jr., 23; Alice, 17; and Claire, 13. The family expects to move to Annapolis at the end of the 1970-71 academic year. COLLEGE HosTS "INDIAN TABLE" A group of Santa Fe citizens, faculty, and students interested in discussing Indian history and culture meets at the College once a month on Vlednesday evenings for dinner and a talk by an authority in the field. New Mexican Indians occupy nineteen pueblos and three reservations in the state. Toun to nearby pueblos along the Rio Grande also are offered to student> at the College from time to time. Speakers at the suppers so far h:n-e included Bertha Dutton, Director of the lV!useum of Navajo Ceremonial Art, and Douglas Schwartz, DirectOl" of the School of American Research. In a related vein, exhibits are sched. ulted in the St. John's Gallery during March and April by Seymour Tubi.;, artist and instructor at the Institute of American Indian Art in Santi Fe; and by students of that Institute. STUDENTS PERFORM ANOUILH'S "ANTIGONE" A student group at Santa Fe prtsen ted Jean Anouilh' s ;',ersion of ,tl."' ancient Greek tragedy Anllgone ~:; December. The play was perfc:-rl><'-' one night for the College commu:"'' and another for the public. . The title roles of Antigone '"" Creon were played by sophc::J'-"~ Mellanie P. Morgan and freshmJr. Jc~' Harris. Production was under the "' rection of sophomore J. R. Thom?"''' 26 - ·-·-· ... - - --- -----~---~~---mlllll!!l!!i!lllll\lll �April 1971 Others in the cast were: Chorus, Mark Belanger; Ismene, Rebecca A. Brinkley; Haemon, Hal Hensley; Eurydice, Paula Brumley; nurse, Jennifer Jordan; messenger, Kevin E. Snapp; page, Jim Vv'illis; guards Steve Thomas, Philip \Veathers and Thomas Alex Lawson. Laura J. Kelly was technical director and Gregory J. Ford, technical assistant. Set decoration was by Robert M. Hampton, and Miss Brumley was wardrobe mistress. FAMOUS PHOTOGRAPHER SHOWS AFRICAN SLIDES Famed photographer Eliot Porter showed slides taken on his recent trip to Africa at the College in Santa Fe on January 22nd. Mr. Porter, who is well known for his outdoor photography for the Sierra Club on behalf of wilderness conservation, is preparing a book on the wildlife of East Africa. He is the father of Santa Fe student Patrick Porter, a junior. STUDENTS SPEAK AT SANTA FE CHURCH Four St. John's students will deliver lay sermons this spring at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Faith in Santa Fe. Paul F. Bustion,' Gail Hartshorne, Mark D. Jordan, and James F. Scott were invited by the minister, the Rev. Dennis Walker, · to participate in services during March and April. STATE BoARD HoLDs MEETING AT COLLEGE St. John's in Santa Fe was host to the March meeting of the New Mexico Board of Educational Finance, which supervises the financial operations of State institutions of higher education. Vice President J. Burchenal Ault spoke briefly to the board about the College's finances and the finances of New Mexico's three accredited private colleges. The New Mexico legislature is prohibited by the State constitution from appropriating money to educational institutions not controlled by the State. A recent law does allow students in private colleges to apply for loans from the State Student Loan Fund. SANTA FE CHAMBER ORCHESTRA COMBINES STUDENTS AND TowN'S PEOPLE The St. John's CoJJ.ege Chamber Orchestra is a new movement on the Santa Fe musical scene. "A group of Santa Fe adults and students from nine states have learned to make music together," the Albuquerque Journal recently commented in an article on the orchestra and its musical director, Richard B. Stark, a Tutor at St. John's. "It is a labor of love for both the Santa Fe musicians and the students, who receive no pay or academic credit for participation and [who J practice and perform on their own time," the newspaper noted. The orchestra's concerts are built around soloists from both the College and the community. A program last October featured a Vivaldi guitar concerto with Philip T. Ansteth, a junior from Tulsa, as soloist. Anne Hemmendinger, sophomore from Santa Fe, was soloist in a Marcello concerto for oboe and strings. That program also included a suite composed by junior student Steve M. Whitehill of Chestertown, Maryland. One of the high points in the group's drive for improvement was a week-long workshop in January with international conductor Eleazar de Carvalho, climaxed by a concert featuring the orchestra and De Carvalho's wife, pianist J ocy de Oliveira. De Carvalho is conductor of the Brazilian National Symphony and the Pro Arte Symphony of Long Island, New Y ark. Eleazar de Carvalho discusses his workshop with the St. John's College Chamber Orchestra with \Villiam A. Darkey, Dean of the College in Santa Fe. A harpischord constructed by :\1r. Darkey had its debut at the a:mcert conducted in Santa Fe by Dr. De Carvalho. Photo: Robert Nugent. SANTA FE RECEIVES $10,000 FROM THE NATIONAL SCIENCE FOUNDATION The National Science Foundation has awarded a $10,000 grant to St. John's College in Santa Fe. The "Institutional Grant for Science" was given to the College in connection with a research grant received earlier by one of its Tutors, Roger S. Peterson. Institutional Grant funds may be used for any aspect of a college's academic program in the natural and social sciences, including research and education. 27 �The College This concert also saw the debut of a harpsichord constructed by \Villiam A. Darkev, Dean in Santa Fe. The gr~up has been helped by gifts of material and equipment from two former local orchestras, the Rio Grande Sy'mphony and the Santa Fe Sinfonietta. Rehearsals and performances of the Chamber Orchestra are open to the public without charge. Students in the orchestra include: Violin-Ellen Usncr, sophomore; Margaret E. Jacobs, senior; Jennifer A. \Vicke, sophomore and Marcia E. Greenbaum, sophomore. Cello-David H. Shennan, freshman; Eric 0. Springsled, sophomore; and David \Vallace, freshman. Double Bass-Robert C. Norberg. junior. Flute-Janet E. Buchbinder, sophomore; and Christina Pierce, freshman. Oboe-Anne Hemmendinger, sophomore, and Thor Sigstedt, freshman. Clarinet-Gary D. Greene (also manager), sophomore, and Donald Merriell, freshman. Harpischord-Fred Sturm, freshman, and Anthony B. Jeffries, junior. MoDERN THEATER GROUP IN ANNAPOLIS PRESENTS CoMEDY The Modern Theater Group of St. John's College in Annapolis is planning to present "The Lady's Not For Burning," a comedy by Christopher Fry, on Saturday, April 17th, and Sunday, April 18th. The play is directed by sopl1omore Rand Lee, son of the late mystery writer Ellery Queen and radio serial star Kaye Brinker. St. John's College Playwright- Producer in Residence Alvin Aronson '52 is executive producer. The Caritas Societv of the Friends of St. John's College has lent the Charles Brian Scott; and freshmen Edmund Raspa, Deborah Ross, and Eric Scigliano. Sophomore Lee Elkins is in charge of lighting; senior Sarah Harrison and freshman Linda Sharp, costumes; and sophomores Bryant Cruse and Nicholas Patrone, sets. Sophomore Susan Conlin is the assistant to the director. SANTA FE STUDENTS PUBLISH TABLOID The student publication at Santa Fe is called Seven. Published monthly, it is printed on newsprint and includes reYicws of lectures, drama, films, and concerts as wc11 as a calendar, campus nC\'i'S, essays, photographs, advertisements, cartoons, and poetry. Chief editor is J. R. Thompson, a sophomore. Co-editors are senior James Scott and sophomore Della !\'Janning. The subscription rate is $2.50 per academic year. ST. JOHN'S STUDENTS WIN DANFORTH AND WATSON FELLOWSHIPS Richard Delahide Ferrier, a senior in Annapolis, and James Frederick Scott, a senior in Santa Fe, have been Richard Dclahide Ferrier, Danforth Graduate Fellowship winner, and Holly Carroll, honorable mention. Photo: Tlwmas Farran, Jr. - thc2tcr group funds for the performance and will sponsor the play on Sundav evening. Proceeds wi11 benefit the College's schobrship fund. J\ppc;ning. in the comcc1~- will be juniors Dana "'ctherton and Christel Stevens; sophomores Pet-er Aronson, Peter Ellison, Je;:mne H;:;rrison, Craig ?\Jooring.. Thomas Robinson, and awarded the Danforth Graduate Fellowships for College Teaching Careers, and Hollv Carroll, a senior in Annapolis, has be.en named honorable mention. Mr. Scott and another Santa Fe senior, Steven M. l\1oser, also won the Thomas J. \\Tatson Fellowships for Foreign TraveL Thus St. John's two senior classes with a total of only 80 members received two of the 107 Danforth Fellowships granted this year and two of the 70 \Vatson Fellowships. The \Vatson Fellowships proYide $6,000 for an initial postgraduate year of independent studv and travel abroad. The Danforth Fellowships program was established in 1951 with the aim of giving persona} encouragement and financial support to selected college seniors and recent graduates who seek to become college teachers. The Fellowship provides tuition and living expenses for up to four years of study toward the doctoral degree in preparation for a career in college teaching. Mr. Moser, whose parents live in Haiku, Hawaii, plans to traYel to Poland, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, Israd, a11d Germany in con- , \PI �April 1971 neetion with his study of "the status of the Jew in the modern world." He eventually hopes to attend medical school. At St. John's he received the best junior essa~·' ;:Jwt~rd and the Duane L. Peterson Scholarship, presented annually to a junior for academic achieve- monasterv in Snowmass, Colorado, and a brief time at a junior college in Pueblo. After purchasing a set of the great books for his personal reading, "I learned there was a place where they were used as texts." Because of an illness it was necessary for him to complete his junior work in t\:vo years. The Danforth Fellowships are open ment, constructive membership in the College community, and commitment to men and women who have a serious interest in college teaching careers, to postgraduate study. Mr. Scott, son of Mr. and Mrs. and who plan to study for the doctoral Floyd B. Scott of Pueblo, will use his degree. Special attention is given in \Vatson Fellowship to travel to three areas in considering candidates: England, Gennany, France, India, l) evidence of intellectual power which Afghanistan, and Tibet. His study topic is flexible and of wide range, and eviis "a personal and poetic odyssey." dence of academic achicyemcnt which His Danforth grant will further his is a thorough foundation for graduate study; 2) evidence of personal characstudies in psychology. \Vhile at St. John's he won the teristics which are likely to contribute awards for. the best sophomore and to effective teaching and to conjunior essays. He. also received first structive relationships with students; prize for the best English poem one and 3) evidence of concerns which year, tied for first place another year,· range beyond self~interest and narrow and also received second place another perspective and which take ethical time in the same category. A publisher or religious questions seriously. Based on a college's enrollment, the is interested in a number of his poems. Both students have worked at the number of candidates nominated may State Mental Hospital. ]'vir. Scott also be two to five. St. John's College is has helped conduct studies at the State limited to two nominations from each Penitentiary. He entered St. John's in campus. From Eugene, Oregon, Mr. Ferrier 1966 after two years in a Trappist SteYen M. Moser, winner of TilOmas Fellowship for· Foreign Travel J. \Vatson James Frederick Scott, v.~nner of Danforth Graduate and Thomas J. Vl/atson Fellowships is the son of Mr. and Mrs. Herbert H. Hunt, Jr. He is presently team-teaching physics and seminar at Tire Key School in Annapolis with Tutor Thomas K. Simpson as well as attending classes at the College. At St. John's he was a member of the Delegate Conneil, and in the spring of 1970 he was treasurer of the Polity. He has appeared in several dramatic productions including "Henry IV, Part I," "Love's Labour's Lost," and "Twelfth Night." In 1969 he received the book award from Teachers College of Columbia University. After fulfilling alternate service, Mr. Ferrier plans to study the histon· of science at either the University of California at San Diego or Princeton University. iV!iss Carroll is the daughter of 1\Ir. and Mrs. Alexander Spicer Carroll, Jr. of Indianapolis, Indiana. A member of the Instrumental Ensemble, a chamber music orchestra, she was also a member of the Small Chorus. In 1970 she received the book award from Teachers College of Columbia University. Miss Carroll plans to take off a year to vi'Ork for an environmental agency. She then may study environmental engineering perhaps at The Johns Hopkins University. More than 1,800 college seniors from colleges and universities throughout the United States were in the Danforth Fellowship competition. Approximately 400 students were chosen to be inten,iewed, with only 107 awards made. The selection of the Danforth Fellows is made annually by a national panel of educators. PLEASE NOTE! 1lre December 1970 cover of the magazine has been reprinted as the inside back cover of this issue for those of YOU who are interested in collecting the con:rs. \Ve sincerely regret the poor reproduction on the December cover and regret any inconvenience it might have caused. (Ed.) 29 �ALUMNI ACTIVITIES Dear St. John's College: 5 February 1971 Your announcement of Mr. Mellon's latest donation to the college moves me to [a] rather different communication from that which I had at first intended. Your inclusion of me as an alumna with the attendant circumstances of pleas for money (of which I have very little anyway) had up to now annoyed me slightly, since of course I was at St. John's for Jess than a year. It was a shock to find that Mr. Mellon's stay was equally short. Even though his other academic achievements make further comparisons futile, his example of concern with the affairs of St. John's has given me [cause] to think. My anger toward St. J ohn's-a feeling perhaps familiar to others who have '!eft the. college in a confusion of academic and personal conflictshas largely evaporated, leaving me now able like Mr. Mellon to consider myself in some way connected with the college despite my non-graduation, and to wish to continue that connection simply because I agree with 'the St. John's idea.' I only wish I could express these feelings as lavishly as Mr. Mellon. But please accept this rather smaller token, and if my example will encourage other 'alumni' like me, please feel free to use it. Sincerely, Linda Rodman Dewing '68x PS My current activities, should any old cronies be interested, include a happy marriage and study leading to a degree in nursing at Simmons College here in Boston. Love to all. LD ALUMNI BOARD OF DIRECTORS The Board of Directors of the Alumni Association has been increased bv four members since the elections at Homecoming. As provided in the ByLaws of the Association, President William R. Tilles has appointed the following: Miss Allison G. Karslake S'68, a teacher at the Key School in Annapolis, and the first Santa Fe graduate ever to join the Board; l\·frs. Barbara (Brunner) Oosterhout '55, whose husband, John '51, is a member of the Board of Visitors and Governors; 30 Thomas G. Casey II ('65) '71, student representative, back for his senior year after an Army hitch and several trips to Vietnam; and Joseph P. Cohen '56, alumnus Tutor at the College since 1962. In other action, the Board voted recently to vary the format of its monthly meetings. Rather than business meetings every month as in the past, on alternate months the Board will hold discussion periods. The first of these took place on February 16th, when the Treasurer of the College, Charles T. Elzey, discussed the non-academic operations of the College. Provost Paul D. Newland also attended the meeting. In future meetings the Board will hear from chapter chairmen, past presidents of the Association, and other officers of the College. All of these meetings are designed to improve communications between the Association and the College, as well as between various elements of the Alumni bodv itself. • CHAPTER NEWS "An Interview with Scott Buchanan and Stringfellow Barr" was the feature presentation at the February 2nd meeting of the New Yark City Alumni Group. The 40-minute film, produced under the guidance of Harris \Vofford, was made at the Center for the Study of Democratic Institutions in California, and was completed only a few days before Mr. Buchanan died in 1968. Mr. Wofford, now president of Bryn Mawr College, attended the showing and introduced the film. The Annapolis Alumni Chapter continues to hold monthly luncheon meetings at the College on the second Friday. Recent speakers have been Hersey D. Taylor, executive director of the Anne Arundel County YMCA, Judge Matthew S. Evans '31; Temple G. Porter '62; College Treasurer Charles T. Elzey; and Provost Paul D. Newland. CLASS NOTES 1907 Robert Anderson bas advised us that the percent response of the class to last year's Giving Campaign should have been 6i%. Miguel Ferrer, we have found, died in 1966, so he could not be counted among the possible donors. 1916 In November the College was presented a transcript of an interview with Lt. Gen. Thomas �April 1971 E. Bow-ke, USMC (Ret.). Originally taken on tape under the auspices of the Historical Division of Marine Corps Headquarters, the intcn·iew was one of a series with all general officers of the Corps, active and retired. TI1e collection supplements official reports already on file, and provides many personal views and insights not reflected in official documents. 1921 Lt. Ger,, l\filton G. Baker and CoL Josephine Louise Redenius were married December 1970. Gen. Baker is founder and superintendent of Valley Forge 1V1ilitary Academy and Junior College. :tvlrs. Baker had been director of publications and development at the Academy. The Bakers make their horne in Wayne, Pa. s: 1922 C. Ed\\'in Cockey this year has two sons at the A.nnapolis campus: James, a senior and Richard, who entered with the February freshman class. Benjamin C. \Villis, former superintendent of schools in Chicago and more recently head of an educational consulting firm, is now superintendent of schools of Broward County, Florida. 1923 11uough Luther S. Tall '21 we have re- ceived a reqD:est from Carlos V. Urrutia, Jr.: he would Jike copies of the 1920 and 1921 RatTat. His copies were lost in a fire in his house, and he would like to replace them. Mr. Urrutia's address is Calle 2, Sur Oeste, Caparra Terrace, San Juan, P. R. 00921. 1928 A. Olin Grimes retired January 31st after more than 41 years with Armco Steel Company. He started in the Melting Department of the Baltimore plant in 1929, and became manager of Baltimore operations in February, 1968, the position he held at retirement. Professor Louis L. Snvder must indeed be the most published of St. John's alumni; his . Frederick the Great was published in January by Prentiss-Hall. It is one of a series entitled Great Lives Observed. 1930 Edward f. Dwyer, president of ESB, Inc.', in December was installed as 1971 board chairman of the National Association of 1\1anufacturers. Active in Philadelphia United Fund work since 1965, Mr. Dwyer is chairman of the Finance Committee of the Board of Visitors and Go\'ernors. He first joined the Board of the College in 1959. 1931 Stanley S. Hall in January was promoted to general manager of The Fritz & Hawley Co., New Haven, Conn. .1\-ir. Hall joined the optical and photographic equipment store in 1928, and became manager of its Photographic Equipment Department in 1933. He is also assistant treasurer of the firm. · 1935 David E. Napper has been promoted to general manager, \Vashington office, for the advertising firm of Ketchum, MacLeod & Grove, Inc. 1937 \Villard 0. Ash, formerly chairman of the 11athematics and Statistics Department, University of \Vest F1orida, Pensacola, has accepted the position of Dean of Arts, Sciences, and Technologies, University of North Florida, Jacksonville. On Saturday, January 16th, 11rs. John Stuart Smart, Jr., of \Vestfield, N. J., was married to Ferris Thomsen of Holderness, N. H. Mrs. Thomsen was attended by her daughter and was given in marriage by her two sons. 1v1r_ Thomsen's two sons served as best men. Head lacrosse coach at Princeton University through last season, Mr. Thomsen is director of Camp Deerwood for Boys in Holderness. 1939 CoL M. Worthington Bordley v,:as awarded the Legion of Merit upon his retirement from the Army last fall. 1943 A most interesting letter from A Scott Abbott reports that after two years teaching at Colorado Alpine College, he spent last year teaching in a Steamboat Springs (Colo.) preparatory school. Now that their youngest is "on her way," he and his wife Kate are thinking seriously about teaching among the Indians. This year he is trying to outline an historical geography of Colorado, perhaps a first step toward such a study for the whole country. All this recent activity Mr. Abbott describes as "being foolish at fifty." 1944 Registration day for the February freshman class brought a welcome visit from John C. Smedley, as he brought his son \Vebb down to join the College family. Mr. Smedley, after many years in social work, most recently at the Children's Village at Dobbs Ferry, N. Y., has now embarked on what he hopes will be a career as a writer. A novel for Doubleday is in the works, as well as several others in various stages of development. Pete\-'C. Wolfl's son Theodore is a member of the freshman class which entered in September. ) 1945 I .--. The Danville {N, J / Citizen of l\1orris County in November C}fn'ed an interesting profile about Robert f· Campbell, Jr. :Mr. Campbell went to /work for Life magazine immediately after St. John's, starting as a reporter-researcher, and leaving to free-lance in 1957. He has compiled a long list of credits in Life and Sports Illustrated, and has written a number of award·winning films. He, his wife, and two sons live on a farm in Rockaway, Stewart A. \Vashbum '51 N. J ., where he indulges his hobbies of composing music and restoring a classic Bugatti automobile. 1950 Margaret Frame '74, daughter of James H. Frame, joined her brother 11atthew '73 on the Annapolis campus last September. Dean Robert A. Goldwin's daughter Elizabeth is a sophomore and her sister Jane is a senior on the eastern campus. John L. Lincoln's son John is also a member of the freshman class in Annapolis. Tutor Thomas K. Simpson this year is on 2/3 leave of absence, teaching only senior mathematics at the College, in order to serve as teacher and Curriculum Counsellor at Key School in Annapolis. At the school he teaches physics (team-teaching with Richard Ferrier '69), geometry, analytic geometry, seminar, electronics, and has indi,iidual students in calculus and modern algebra. Mr. Simpson's son Patrick is a freshman in Santa Fe, 1951 Stewart A. \\!ashburn, vice president and a director of Porter Hemy & Co., Inc., a New York management consulting firm, was elected to full membership in the Institute of Management Consultants in December. In an unusual move, he was accorded Founding Member status. In addition to his corporate duties with Porter Henry, Mr. \Vashbum is the firm's eA-pert on the evaluation and operation of field sales forces and in the use of computers to manage such forces. In addition he is a producer of prize-winning films for the firm's clients. 1952 'n1e October, 1970, issue of Liberal Education (the Bulletin of the Association of American Colleges) contained an article by Harry M. Neumann entitled "Plato's Defense of Socrates: an Interpretation of Ancient and lviodern Sophistry." Mr. Neumann, who holds dc&'Tees 31 �The College from the University of Chicago and The Johns Hopkins University, is professor of philosophy and go\'crnment at Scripps College and Claremont Graduate School. 1955 Alexandra Culbertson is now teaching at a school in Germany, the Zinzendorf Schule in Postfach. Mr. \Veigle has passed on to us a long, informative letter from Hugh D. McKay, Jr. Mr. McKay and his wife Joan (Gilbert) taught at the Colorado Rod..)' Mountain School from 1956 to 1959. In the latter year they were separated and subsequently divorced. Mean· while, Mr. McKay started writing TV scripts and planning for his own film. Attendance at film school at UCLA taught him a great deal, he says, and now his three part film is in production. The title of the production is "The I of the Beho1der," and the first feature-length section should be completed by 1972. Mr. McKay also hopes to open a theater for showing the film, revolutionizing standard motion picture distribution procedure by eliminating notmal distribution costs. He is now married to a forrrter actress turned teacher turned text-book writer, and while not working on his film, teaches at the Art Center College of Design and at Barnsdall Art Center in Los Angeles. 1961 We are informed that John C. Kohl, Jr., is now an assistant professor of biology at Trenton (N. ).) State College. The cut-back in federal science spending forced termination of his federally-funded research contract at Harvard last June. Stephen .Morrow, transferred and promoted by United Press International, is now Overnight Editor in UPI's division headquarters in Pittsburgh. He is responsible for the "overnight report" (stories written the day before for afternoon newspapers) for seven states, including Maryland. Eyvind C. Ronquist is back in Chicago, working in Library Resources, Encyclopaedia Brittanica. Joseph W. Alto~. Jr.; this seems a good position for one who does not deny that he has political aspirations. 1964 James P. Nach is now Second Secretary of the U. S. Embassy in Saigon, assigned to the political section. His first post v.~th the Foreign Service was as vice-consul in Calcutta. Before going to Saigon Mr. Nach spent a year of Vietnamese study in Washington. \Vhile in Calcutta he frequently saw his former roommate, Roger \Vicklander (see below). James l\1.. Toney, Jr., according to a note from his mother, was recently made chief deputy district attorney for Yolo County, Calif. Roger V. Wicklander, last reported in the pages of the newsletter "about St. John's'' as teaching at the American International School in Calcutta, is now at the American International School in New Delhi. 1963 A note from the mother of Elliott A. Rosenberg states -that her son is a social work supervisor in Bellflower, Calif. Mr. Rosenberg entered social work in the \Vatts area shortly after the riots there, and plans to return to school in September for graduate study. Edward C. \Vebby, for the past two years senior management assistant with the Anne Arundel County (Md.) Bureau of Communitv and Industrial Affairs, took on a new job J~nuary 11th. Mr. Vlebby was named administrative asSistant to County Executi\'e 32 1969 A long holiday period at the University of Texas at Austin a1lowed us the pleasure of a visit from Philip G. Holt. A graduate student in the Department of Classics at Texas, Mr. Holt talked more about B. Jeffries Cothran, Jr. than about himself. Mr. Cothran manages the Logos Bookstore in _Houston, under the auspices of the Episcopal Church of the Redeemer, pnd is a member of an interdenominational community devoted to Christian life and service. 1967 1970 A business card from David C. Dickey an- nounces that he has entered the practice of law in Stanardsville, Va. Our congratulations. Clark Lobenstine, whose membership in a Christian commune in Baltimore was reported in September, writes that he has finished his alternative service at Spring Grove State HospitaL He plans to enter a seminary in the fall, and to pursue a joint program with a school of social work. This would lead- to B.D. and M.S.\V. degrees in a total of four years. 1968 William Randall Albury has been awarded a \Voodrow \Vilson Dissertation Fellowship, one of approximately 200 to be awarded this year. Mr. Albury is a doctoral candidate in the history of science at The Johns Hopkins University. The holiday period also brought us an informative Christmas card from Steven and Theda (Braddock) dos Remedios (and daughter Jennifer). Both parents have now completed undergraduate college, he with a major in government from the University of San Fran cisco last July, she as a history major at Mills College in December. Both are now applying to law school. Jeflrey D. Friedman sends a short note from Jerusalem, giving his address as Yeshivat Chafetz Cha"im. He wrote that he had met David Sackton (SF '68) at the yeshiva on Mt. Zion in Jerusalem. Arthur H. Luse III V~rrites that he has been in the Army since enlisting last November. Having completed his basic training at Ft. Dix (N. J.), he is now stationed at Ft. Gordon (Ga.), receiving advanced training in Signal SchooL In Memoriam 1962 Ann (Davidson) Fastner and James Q. Blimmel were married this past fa1l, and are making their home in Hyattsville, Md. Steven Shore {SF) writes that he is the second member of Santa Fe's class of 1963 to receive an advanced degree, his an M.B.A. from Columbia University Business School. He is now a financial assistant to the Division Controller (Pipe Division) of JoP.ns-Mansville in New York. Mr. Shore says that he would welcome the chance to give (and to receive) advice to (and from) St. John's students and alumni about careers in business. v1900-George B. Girault, Washington, D. C., April 5, 1970. r/1.905-H. Rodgers Gore, Upper Marlboro, Md., Novembec 24, 1970. ,- 1909-Commodore Charlton E. Battle, USN (Ret.), Miami, Fla. , 1909-Allen H. St. Clair, Rocks, Md., January 9, 1971. lf916--Bcig. Gen. James T. Duke, ·USA (Ret.), Morganza, Md., December 19, 1970. 917-John M. Storm, Baltimore, Md., October 26, 1970. "J917-Co1. N. Dodge Woodward, USA /i (Ret.), Cambridge, Md., January 3, 1971. /1922-Dallas B. Lumpkin, St. Michael's, Md., December 5, 1970. 1924-Jay S. Price, Owings Mills, Md., ~ November 13, 1970. vl931-Alfced H. Cockshott, Bciarcliff / Manor, N.Y., November 4, 1970. (1935-Gordon K. Boucher, Sudbury, l\1ass, December 30, 19i0. .. -t936-Paul J. Kesmodel, Severna Park, Md., December 17, 1970. / . \ ,l-937-John T. Hopkms, Charleston, S. C., ,. February 1, 1971. �THE COLLEGE St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland Santa Fe, New Mexico December 1970 �St. John's College in Annapolis announces Summell" Confell"ence Site Available Auditorium, dining hall, dormitories, classrooms (301) 263-2371, ext. 14 The College St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland 21404 Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The College </em>(1969-1981) Description An account of the resource St. John's College's Office of the Dean published <em>The College</em> from 1969 to 1981. The publication superseded <em><a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/37" title="The Bulletin of St. John's College">The Bulletin of St. John's College</a></em>.  <em>The College</em> was in turn continued by <a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/13" title="The St. John's Review"><em>The St. John's Review</em></a> in 1981.  <br /><br />A separate magazine for St. John's alumni titled <em>The College </em>began publication in 2001, continuing <em>The St. John's Reporter</em>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The College" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=12">Items in the The College Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource 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 Santa Fe, NM Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thecollegemagazine 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. 32 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Development Offices of St. John's College Title A name given to the resource The College, April 1971 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1971-04 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Berns, Laurence Felter, Mary P. Parran, Jr., Thomas Trimmer, Maurice Sullivan, Daniel Description An account of the resource Volume XXIII, Number 1 of The College. Published in April 1971. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context The_College_Vol_23_No_1_1971 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 The College https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/ff1e3339e5ee18e6640589468d7981e1.pdf 71e431c6c6f19f8dd5c8a99e3d4f51a5 PDF Text Text �The College Cover: Dante Alighieri, by Vincenzo Vela. Inside Front Cover: McDowell Hall, Annapolis. The College is a publication fat friends of St. John's College and for those who might become friends of the College, if they came to know it. Our aim is to indicate, within the limitations of the magazine form, why, in our opinion, St. John's comes closer than any other college in the nation to being what a college should be. If ever well-placed beacon lights were needed by American education it is now. By publishing articles about the work of the College, articles reflecting the distinctive life of the mind that is the College, we hope to add a watt or two to the beacon light that is St. John's. Editors: Laurence Berns and Malcolm Wyatt Managing Editor: Mary P. Felter Alumni Editor: Thomas Farran, Jr. Editorial Assistant: Maurice Trimmer The College is published by the Development Offices of St. John's College, College Avenue, Annapolis, Maryland 21404 (Julius Rosenberg, Director), and Santa Fe, New Mexico ·(J. Burchenal Ault, Vice President); Member, American Alumni Council. President, St. John's College, Richard D. Weigle. Published four times a year in April, July, October, and December. Second-class postage paid at Annapolis,. 1\laryland, and at additional mailing offices. Vol. XXIII July 1971 No.2 In the July Issue: Noun and Verb, by Edward G. Sparrow . l Hell: Paola and Francesca, by Robert S. Bart. 7 News on the Campuses 22 Alumni Activities 29 �Noun and Verb* By EDWARD G. SPARROW I. Introduction This lecture is the fruit of reflecting on form in language. Some of the questions I have asked myself and tried to answer in this lecture are these: I) \\That status do the entities and distinctions traditionally used by grammarians to explain form in language really have? I am referring here to such entities as nouns and verbs, subjects, predicates, and objects, and to such distinctions as those between transitive and intransitive verbs and direct and indirect objects. 2) If these entities and distinctions do not exist in and of themselves, can any account be given of form in language at all? 3) If so, how should such an account be framed? This lecture. has three parts: a neutral part, a constructive part, and a conclusion. The neutral part is an investigation of verbal communication and a spelling out of some consequences, destructive as weiJ as instructive, that are the results of that investigation. The constructive part is an attempt to build on the results of that investigation. The conclusion considers the meaning of the word 11 Ungrammatical" and briefly examines one relation between the semantic and the grammatical. Let me apologize in advance for my use later on of familiar 'vor.ds with unfamiliar meanings. They w.ere the best I could find. Please believe my fervent hope that the context and the definitions I give of them will clothe them with intelligibility. II. Neutral Part A. An Investigation of Verbal Communication The words we speak do not carry their meanings with them. This is an obvious remark, but a very important one. \Vords may be winged. but they are not carrier pigeons. This is to say that ll'hen one hears a word, he does not hear a mean(ng along with the sounds he hears. Nothing is transmitted from speaker to bearer in speech except sound \Vaves. This remark is so important and funda~ *A lecture given at St. John's Co!lege in Annapolis, November 13, 1970. mental that I must repeat it. Nothing is transmitted from one person to another when they talk to one another except sound waves. This means that there is not, nor can there be, any transmission of "information/' that no "cornmunicabon,-' passes from one person to another, and that no "messages" can ever, as \ve say, get across in any spatia-temporal sense. If this were not the case there would be no such thing for us as a new word. The meaning of the new word would be borne into us along with its sound. This would, in turn, eliminate the gap between meaning and sound. But this gap cannot be eliminated, for it is to it that we refer when we say, "'VI/hat does such and such mean?" when we hear a ne\:v word. Si-nce all of us have had the experience of hearing new words, therefore, words do not carry their meanings with them. · Let me add that it is a good thing that this is the case. Teaching would be admittedly easier if a teacher could form the minds of his students just by speaking meanings. But in the first place, the price would be high: a student completely at the mercy of his teacher. And thus, in the second place, anything would have to be as true as anything else. But people do communicate with one another by means of words. And so, if words do not carry meanings, there must be another account of verbal communication. There is such an account, and it is psychological. Communication consists of shared meanings. But since the meanings which the hearer comes to share with the speaker cannot proceed from the speaker into the hearer, as we have seen, we must say that these meanings must be already in some way in the bearer and brought to his consciousness through association with the sounds he hears. The effect of speaking and hearing words must sornehO\v be to stir up these meanings within the hearer so as to have them come to his consciousness. Speaking words is the production of sounds for the hearer to associate with meanings. It is the making of occasions for the coming to the consciousness of the hearer of the same meanings as those which \Vere, and still remain, in the mind of the speaker. Thus words, as words, and not as sounds merely, are born twice: once in the souls of speakers when the\· enunciate sounds which thev have associated with their"' mea Dings, and once again in the souls of hearers 1 �The College when they have associated those same sounds with the meanings they already possessed. And so we say that human beings signify and that sounds do not. Men, in other words, and not discourse, are significant. The human activity of signification, wordbirth, is the association of the meanings which we already have within ourselves with the sounds that habit and convention have put at our disposal. And thus although words in themselves are indeed notlting but sounds, they do become words in us when we associate them with the meanings in our possession. But what are these meanings in our possession? Are they all of the same kind and comparable with one another? \Vhen we think of what a meaning is, we may tend to think more or less clear and distinct ideas such as are named by the sounds "dog" or l<anthropos," each of them with what one might call a determinate notional content, a "whatness." However, when we reflect on some of the prefixes and suffixes of English, or on the multiform endings, reduplications, augments, or internal changes in the words of synthetic languages, it becomes evident that elements such as "-ness" in English, or the "-s" characteristic of the third person singular of the verb, or such sounds as ' -mp.t" or "-ovTa," are also associated with some kind of meaning. That is, he who hears these sounds associates them with something. But the meanings \vhich come to mind with such suffixes, etc., are sorne\vhat different from those which come to mind with such sounds as "dog" or "anthropos." They seem to lack the determinate notional content, the "whatness," that is to be found in meanings such as "dog." I should like to mention a few of these special meanings, all of them very familiar to you, in order that our understanding of verbal communication may become somewhat enlarged. I shall merely list them here according to the different kinds of sound elements (or lack of sound elements); with which they are usually associated. Some of them, paradoxically, have no special sound element associated with them at all, but instead hover, as it were, under and around the edges of the ordinary meanings. For example, if we think the "meaning dog, we will find that under or around it there are at least two other meanings present. First, that a dog is a being; and second, that a dog can somehow be thought of as by itself. I shall call meanings that can be thought of as by themselves by the word "subjects" from now on this evening. Hence when you hear me use the sound "subject" in this lecture, you are not to think of "subject" in the sense in which we sometimes speak of the subject of a sentence or the subject of a predicate, on both of ll"hich occasions we say thJt a given word is a subject. I am speaking of meanings, not words, \\'hen I speak of subjects. This is of absolutely central importance for understanding this lecture. Similarly, if we consider. the meaning named by "runs" we will find that under or around it also there are other 1 2 meanings present. It, too, is a being; unlike "dog," though, it cannot be thought of as by itself; rather, the action of "runs" can only be thought of as in a runner, a subject; and it is an action-meaning, that is, the sound "runs" names an action. From now on I shall call meanings that can be thought of only as in subjects "adjects." Adjects are not to be confused with "adjectives." "Adjective" is something that is usually said of a word; for example, "Blue is an adjective" we would say in parsing. But I am speaking here, as above, when I spoke of subjects, not of words but of meanings, specifically meanings which can only be thought of as in subjects. The same holds true if we consider the meanings named by "blue," by "five," and by "between." Each of these meanings is a being, each one is an adject, and the first is a quality-adject, the second a quantity-adject, and the third a locality-adject. But commonly special meanings are not hidden under ordinary meanings but are rather associated with special sounds which occur before or after the ordinary meaning sounds, i.e., prefixes and suffixes. The Greek augment is a sound associated with a distinct meaning in the meaning of the sound to which it is attached. What is meant by "love" in "They love," differs from what is meant by "loving" in 11 Loving is suffering." In the example of ''1ov~ ing" the special meaning of subject has replaced the special meaning of adject which was in the meaning of "love." This change was accomplished by the addition of the sound "-ing." It so happens that that sound, in this context, is associated with the special meaning of subject in the sound to which it is added. A change within the sound itself, as in the so-called "subjunctive forms" of certain Greek words, the lengthened w or ~· can be associated with the different desires a speaker might have in speaking to his hearers. The order of sounds, also, as in the case of interrogation, can be associated with a distinct special meaning. "You do love me" means something different from "Do you love me?" and word order has turned the trick. Similarly, ") ohn loves Mary" means something different from "Mary loves John," and it is the difference in the word order that is associated with the difference in the meaning. Even separate sound elements, \vith which no ordinary meaning of their own is associated, are often associated with having another ordinary meaning appear under a special aspect. Thus one who hears the English sound "than" comes to view the subject named after it in the light of its being the standard to which the subject named before it is compared. Still other separate sounds arc associated with these special meanings only, ;:md thus not only me themselves not associated \vith ordinary meanings, but are a1so not even associated with having the ordinary meanings of the words around them appear under a special aspect. Thus in English, and in other languages to a lesser extent, the sounds called "relative pronouns" are only associated with �July 1971 the special meanings of subject, or object, and number. The hearer's memory and the context must provide further intelligibility. Tone of voice may be associated with interrogation. It may also be associated with negation of the totality of a rpeamng, as m scarcasm. So _much for a very partial first glimpse at these special meanmgs and at the means by which they are signified. As we shall see, there are many groups and kinds of them and, like "ordinary" meanings, they exist in the minds of all of us, waiting to be brought to consciousness by hearing the sounds or other elements with which they are by custom associated. There is no way to put them into our minds if they are not there already, for they seem to be pnor to expenence and are surely prior to language. As w~ grow m matunty, we gradua11y learn to associate them \\'lth all the v·ocal devices mentioned above plus a good many more, such as accent, melody, gesture, clothing, etc. Thus we may say that a given language bears the same . relation to the network of ordinary and special meamn~s wh1ch communicants have at their disposal, that a given amount of grains of sand bears to the network of vessels and tubing in which it happens to be located. All that is formal in language pre-exists language and is foreign to It. But more of this later. I should like to call these special meanings "dimensions" of meanings or just "dimensions." I pick this word "dimensions" b:cause it usually suggests something which, Without Impmgmg on the integrity of something already existi-ng, yet can change or expand it in some way. I am aware of a danger that a dimension of a meaning may, in the case of subjects and adjects, be a part of the meaning of those .subjects and adjects and not, as I have been suggesting, somethi-ng separable from them. However, it on balance that the subjectness or adjectness seems to of a meamng rs sufficiently external to it, or distant from rt, to allow the. use of the term. I am moved to this decision by the fact that these special meanings can, in English and other languages, be independently signified by the additiOn of such sounds as "-ness" "-al" "-ize" or "-ly" to the sounds which are associated with 'the ordinary meamngs. The use of the word "dimension" may be more difficult to justify where it is used to identify such things as sentences, predicates, and objects. Ho\:vever, as \:Ve shall see bter, this usage is not altogether far-fetched. VVhen we. call a group of s?tmds a sentence, a predicate, or an object, we are refern~g to something, to some meaning which comes to consciOusness when we hear those sounds. This meoning is altogether different from the ordinary :nc~mings of sounds such as "dog" or "~mthropos." Yet i't 1s wl~~t allows us to recognize those sentences, predicates, or objects as sentences, predicates, or objects. I am taking as a necessary, though not sufficient, test of the presence o~, a dimension the futility of asking a questiOn such as \Vhat is such and such-ness?" about n:e a given significant linguistic element. Such and such can be any significant linguistic element, from the suffix "-ing" to me:e \\;?rd ord~r,, ~s in "J ~~? lo~:es.'' T~us the futility of askmg \Vhat rs -mg-ness? or \Vhat rs the position of 'John' before 'loves' -ness?" is a sign for me that the linguistic elements "-ing" and the position of "John" before "loves" are associated \Vith dimensions of meanings rather than with ordinary meanings. B. Some Important Consequences There are some important consequences of the two positions affirmed so far for the study of form in language. The two positiOns are I) that communications take place by the assocwtwn of sounds with meanings, and 2) that meamngs mc1ude the \vhole range of dimensions of meanings as well as ordi-nary meanings. First, it becomes apparent that nothing stable or permanent can be said about words except insofar as they are sounds. \Ve may, that is, speak about the length of words their mellifluence, the number of their syllables, and thei; srmibnty to one another, all of them spatia-temporal predicates. But smce they only become words in us and never are such in themselves, \V€ cannot say anything about them that would be based on their being things in themselves apart from sounds. Hence we cannot ascribe to them natures as so-called "part of speech." \Ve cannot say that . they have "histories." 1l1ey are incapable of entermg mto relatiOnships. They cannot act in any way, I.e., they cannot umean," "designate," "modify" <(describe," or "point to." And thev cannot be classified except into spatia-temporally defined classes. Thus thev cannot be classed as "nouns," "adjectives," or ''verbs," "finite," or ":wn-~nite/' "transitive," or "intransitive." Nor can they be Identified as "subj·ects," "predicates," or "objects>) or spoken of as grammatical or ungrammatical, acceptable or unacceptable. The activity of parsing, therefore, as it is usually understood, is necessarily an exercise in futility and frustration. Thirdly, ,it is ~vident that any explanatory power or understandmg which conventiOnal grammatical categories had, and that any future attempt at making sense of form in language \\1i1l want to have, must be rooted not in word classes but in classes of meanings and of dimensions of meanings. For words in themselves are nothing but sounds: thm own proper being is to be articulated sound. Therefore there is not, nor can there be, such a thing as the science of grammar, if such a science be understood as so~ething differ?nt from a science of me~mings and din1enswns of meamngs. But the name of tklt science is logic. III. Constructive Part In this part of the lecture I should like to begin to clean up the debris by discussing what a studv of this branch 3 �The College of logic might begin with. I shall be concerned with the dimensions of meanings only, as a study of the meanings themselves would necessary involve a study of the deepest things, and, as we shall see, it is in association with the dimensions of the meanings more than with the meanings themselves, that form in language is grounded. I shall proceed a priori since what we are studying is not given in experience. I shall make a very rough ordering of the different dimensions and discuss a few. Dimensions are dimensions of meanings, and are as- sociated by convention with human vocal sounds. But human vocal sounds associated with meanings are speech, and speech is communicating something. Hence there are two main kinds of dimensions, those related to communicating, and those related to something. The ones related to something are related to meanings as such whereas those related to communicating are related to meanings as communicated, i.e., to meanings as brought by a speaker successively and deliberately to the consciousness of a hearer. The dimensions related to meanings as such I divide into those like subject and adject, where a mere inspection of the meaning· reveals the dimensions, and those related to meanings taken with reference to other meanings. A discussion of those in the first group would investigate subjects and the dimensions appropriate to them as sub;ects. For example, it would treat of that in subjects by which they. do or do not admit of plurality. Some subjects cannot be pluralized, for example, triangularity and co_urage. Vilhy? It would also investigate the different dimensions appropriate to the different classes of adjects. It would treat of that in quality-adjects that allows them to have degrees and of that in action- and passion-adjects that allows them to be differentiated with respect to time. It would provide the ontological basis for the possibility that in some languages what are called "adjectives" and ~'nouns" "agree" \Vith one another. This whole discussion would savor strongly of Aristotle's Categories, but I will not embark upon it now. The dimensions related to meanings taken with reference to other meanings concern, among others, the objective dimension and the attributive dimension. I will have a word to say about both of these. Both of them arise only when two or more meanings are present and considered in relation to one another. The first concerns only subjects, the second mostly subject-adject combinations. First, the objective dimension. There is an intricate network of relations which all possible subjects bear to a given subject. The most fundamental of these relations, one \Vhich every subject bears to every other subject, is that of being other than those others. The German word gegcnstand-:---stand over against-suggests this posture which every subject individually bears to all the others. Each is over against every other. Now the word gegenstand is, in German, associated with the same meaning that we associate with the word "object" in English, and I am going to suggest now that once a speaker thinks a subject 4 as such, all other subjects become for that subject and speaker fixed in their relation to that one subject as gegenstander or objects. This is not to say that they are any longer subjects in their own right-far from it. But it is to say that vis-a-vis the subject the speaker has chosen, all the other subjects have become permanently placed into an object status. I call the object status of a subject its objective dimension. Let me make this clearer by an example. In the words "John loves Mary," "John" names a subject. The position of "John" immediately before the adject-name "loves" tells the hearer that its meaning is the subject which the speaker wants him to unite with the adject "loves Mary." Now "Mary" names a subject also. But she acquires the objective dimension now because another subject, John, has been designated as the subject in the speaker's mind. Mary, in other words, has the dimension of object because she is not thought of as simply by herself-she is not a pure subject, that is-but she is thought of only as a subject in a relationship, i.e., as an object. But Mary remains a subject nonetheless, and so she may in turn find herself as a secondary subject in a relation to a third subject. Thus if the speaker should go on to say "John sees l'v1ary in the garden," Mary becomes the subject for the adject named by "in the garden." The subject named by "garden," in tum by its relation to Mary, has acquired the objective dimension. This kind of "subject-hopping" can go on indefinitely. Vii e may say, incidentally, on the basis of these remarks, what "case," as such, is. Subjects that have acquired the objective dimension have this status, in Greek and Latin, associated with small changes in their names. Such changes are calJed ''caseu endings. There are as many "cases" in a language as there are categories into which speakers of the language see fit to divide the objective dimension. But whether there are no case endings in a language or as many as fifteen, each case ending, as case ending, is associated with the objective dimension. \V'hether an object is called a "direct object," an "object of a preposition," or an "indirect objecf' makes no difference at all. Hence we may say that the ancient grammarians were right when they declared that there was no such monstrous absurdity as the "nominative case." The name of a subject, as subject, is, as it were, its natural name or the name of the subject by itself. "Cases" only arise when the subject, as has been said, becomes an object in addition to being a subject, i.e., when there is a declension from its proper self-sufliciencv. It is, in such a case, entirely appropriate for the name of the SUbject to change in Order to reyea] the changed status of the meaning. It is also, therefore, quite appropriate, where there are two subjects but no objects, i.e., in the case of the identitY of a subject with itself, under another name, as in "John is a ]oyer," that the subject name remain a subject name on the other side of the identity statement. In other �July 1971 words, there is good reason why there should be, in the language of the vernacular, "predicate nominatives." · The other dimension related to meanings taken with reference to other meanings is the one I call the attributive dimension. A speaker may, in the course of speaking, want to signify a subject-adject combination which he thinks the hearer has either already made for himself or else will readily, upon hearing it, concur in. For example, if I say to you that I met your lovely sister last night, I seem to be assuming that you have already made, or will r-eadily accept, my combination of loveliness \Vith your sister as w.ell as my combination of you \:Vith a sister. This desire of a speaker requires that there be sounds or other conventions available for his use which a hearer will associate with the fact that the speaker thinks that there are some subject-adject combinations which are not in question between them. In other words, the hearer must be able to receive signals from the speaker from which he will know that unions of meanings are being made without his being asked to notice them or question them. I call the dimension of such a tacit combination of a subject v.iith an adject the attributive dimension. In English the attributive dimension is associated usually with the placing of the adject name before the subject name. 11ms the "running boy" or the "blue book." This is sometimes known as attribution. Where one subject is identified with another, the attributive dimension of the second subject is associated with placing the second subject name immediately after the main subject name. "John, a lover, is faithful." This location is known as apposition. I should now like to turn to the dimensions related to meanings as communicated. I shall mention three of these but discuss only one. Communication, as we have seen, consists of shared meanings. But we have also seen that simple meanings and their dimensions are already shared, and that there are some combinations of meanings which a speaker thinks he either already shares with his hearers or else judges that his hearers will not question. Hence, the unshared meanings of communication, those for the sake of which communication exists at all, must be combinations of meanings which speakers do not think they already share with their hearers and which they want to share with them. Speakers speak for at least three purposes. They mean to indicate to hearers the actual or possible union or sepa· ration of subjects and adjects; or they mean to have hearers examine and indicate whether a subject and adject belong together; or they mean to move hearers to action. Hence, '"'hen a speaker wants to communicate, not only must he make sounds \\'hich he trusts the hearer \vill associate with the same ordinal)' meanings he has. He must also use other and distinct conventions for letting the hearer know \"vhether he means the hearer to unite those meanings, whether he w;]Jlts him to examine and indicate \\'hether they belong together, or whether he wants him to act. For communication to be possible, in other words, there must be linguistic conventions by which what a speaker says to a hearer reveals to the hearer what he, the speaker, means him to do. But the hearer too, for his part, must have an a priori knowledge of what a speaker might have in mind in speaking, which knowledge he can then associate with the linguistic elements in a speaker's words when they come at him. There must also, in other words, be the same meanings or dimensions pre-existing in the hearer and waiting to be brought to consciousness by the hearing of the sounds that by convention the speaker has associated with his particular desires. There are, then, three necessary dimensions of meanings related to communication present in the minds of speakers and hearers prior to any language. They are those dimensions in us which make us know that speakers expect things from us and the presence of which predispose us to recognize, or, better, to reach out in anticipation for, meanings we shal1 later categorize as sentences, questions, or commands in the \Vords of speakers to us. They are what prevents us from being either recording machines or mere sounding boards vis-a-vis the speech of others. Specifically, it is the indicative dimension in us that enables us to categorize some of the sounds we hear as sentences. It is the interrogative dimension in us that enables us to categorize other sounds as questions. It is the imperative dimension in us that enables us to categorize still others as commands. The indicative dimension is usually associated in English with placing the adject name as soon as possible after the 11 subject name, i.e., John loves." Sometimes, in addition, the indicative dimension is associated with the insertion of a special sound, such as '~am," "are," and "does." Where one subject is combined with another, the indicative dimension is usually associated with both position and special sounds, e.g., "John is a lover/' "John is my son," although sometimes position alone suffices, as in "Finders keepers, losers weepers." The indicative dimension is also associated with those sounds which, in addition to being associated with ordinary meanings of contrast, concession, etc., are associated with the speaker's asking the hearer to combine the combinations of meanings he has in mind. These sounds are the so-called <(conjunctions,"-"and," "although," "or," ('if," "since," ''un1ess,"-and the so-called "adverbs,""on]y," "yet," "hO\li'ever," "nonetheless/' "nohvithstanding," and many others. It may sound surprising, but the juxtaposition of a dependent and an independent clause is as much of a verb as "loves." Discussion of the interrogative and imperative dimensions and of the conventions \Vith which thev are associated is probably unnecessary at this point. ' It follows from what has been said that groups of sounds with linguistic elements associated with the dimensions of d subject dnd an adject, simple or complex, that ha·s the indicative dimension, are whdt are usually 5 �The College called "sentences." Those with the interrogative dimen'sion are called "questions," and those with the imperative dimension are called "commands." It also follows that sounds associated with simple or complex adjects that have the indicative dimension only and in which the subject is ignored are what are usually called "predicates." Furthermore, sounds associated with simple adjects that have the indicative dimension only and in which the subject is ignored are what are usually called ''finite verbs." Needless to say, sounds associated with subjects are usually called "nouns" when one is looking only to their subject character. But those very same sounds are also called "subjects" when one is distinguishing them from sounds which arc usually called "objects." If we bear in mind these new definitions of the familiar terms noun/' "finite verb/' "predicate," "subject," "object/' "sentence," "question," and "command," we will be in a position to answer many questions which before seemed, at least to me, to offer no hope of solution. I refer to such questions as "What is a subject?" "V\That is the difference between a noun and a subject?" "How do we know the subject of a sentence is the subject of that sentence?" "\Vby is not 'dog' a sentence, since it is a complete thought?" "How can we know that a given group of sounds makes a sentence?" VVithin the dimensions related to meanings as communicated, then, the indicative, the interrogative, and the imperative seem to me to be the most important. There are others, such as the subjunctive and the optative, but I will not speak about them. I submit that the necessities which these dimensions entail, and the necessities which are entailed by the dimensions related to meanings as such, underlie, and, indeed, constitute, whatever order, form, or regularity of pattern can be discerned in all the vocal sounds produced by human beings. IV. Conclusion I should like to conclude with some remarks about what is called ungrammatical speech and about the ·possibility of meaningless but grammatical· sentences. Just what does it mean to call some speech "ungrammatical"? I will only give a definition without comment: ungrammatical speech is speech that is at first apparently nonsensical but which has later been resolved by a hearer into a matter of merely unconventional usage of sounds. As to meaningless but grammatical sentences, let me just say this. Since grammarians talk only about dimensions of meanings but not about meanings directly, it becomes possible for them, in thought at leas~ much like the logicians with their empty forms of propositions, to try to separate the grammatical component of speech from the semantic. Hence we are exposed to such gems as Mr. Chomsky's "Colorless green ideas sleep furiously," or Lewis Carroll's "The slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the 6 wabe." It is fun to make up these things-"The scale of C sharp minor reads sweet potatoes." Many persons will assert that these three groups of sounds are all sentences, all grammatical, and all nonsensical. That they are in large measure nonsensical, I agr.ee. But I say that they are (to that extent) neither sentences nor grammatical. They look like sentences because all the English conventions associated with the dimensions related to meanings as such and to meanings as communicated are rigorously observed. Thus Lewis Carroll's utterance begins with "the," a sound associated with an adject mean~ ing mutually known determinateness in the subject about to be named; next comes the use of a sound ending in "-thy," a sound associated with a quality adject. Next comes Htoves,'-' a word ending in "-es," suggesting the dimension of plurality in a subject. The very proximity of the sounds "the," "slithy/' and "toves" to one another is associated with the attributive dimension of a subjectadject combination. And next come the words "did gyre and gimble," all of which together become associated in our minds, through the sound "did," with the dimension of an action-adject that has the indicative dimension. Similar things can be said about "in the wabe." Hence we have presented to us sounds usually associated with the dimensions of subject and adject with the indicative dimension, i.e., what is usually called a sentence. And so we say that the sounds make up a grammatical sentence. But we should be more careful. For the dimensions we have been discussing are dimensions of meanings, and hence when the meanings are either not present, or, as in this example, merely flirted with, or when they are incompatible, as they are in the case of Mr. Chomsky's "colorless green ideas," the dimensions are necessarily absent also. And so the sounds usually associated with the dimensions can only become dead and dry husks, having less relation to the dimensions than the discarded skin of an animal has to the animal. And just as the discarded skin means no animal, so the presence of merely dimensional signals, or dimensional signals in conjunction with incompatible meanings, means no sentence. In short, the examples are not grammatical because they are not even sentences. Edward C. Sparrow, Jr. received his B.A. degree from Harvard College and his LL.B. degree from the Han·ard Law School. He then sen.-eel for a time with the New York Legal Aid Society. In 1957 he recei\'ed his M.A. degree from Teachers College at Columbia University. A Tutor at St. John's College in Annapolis since that year, he served as Acting Director of the Integrated Liberal Arts Curriculum at St. \1ary's College, California, from 1964 to 1966. �Hell: Paolo And Francesca* By ROBERTS. BART This is the Dead End of our Dead Vleek. We have all been in Don Rags and perhaps it is not inappropriate that we are going to spend this evening in Hell. And ,·et it is mY hope that it will not be Hell for us. In fact, looking forward to our discussion together in the question period, I am confident that it will not be Hell. How is it possible that we can be in Hell, and yet not be there, too? You know the answer of course: we will be in Hell by s•irtue of our imaginations, for images are both what they are and not what they are. The world is full of images, images of all kinds. Shadows and reflections are images. Some people look alike. All men look more like one another than they look like fish or flowers. But not only do we find images around us, we make. them. A portrait, for instance, is an image of a man: it looks like a man. If we were to point to a picture of a man and ask a child, "\Vhat is that?", it is likely that he would say, "A man." I know I would. It is so easy to accept the fact that the being of any specific image is the being of what it images. The picture is a man, and yet it is not. We do not mistake it for a man; we do not respond to it in the same ways that we respond to a man. \Ve do not think of talking to it, or embracing it. We examine it, we study it, as we examine and study no man. Suppose, for example, we walked into the living room at home and found the beautiful Olympia stretched out nude on the sofa, just as she is in Manet's picture. We would, I assume, beat a hasty retreat in confusion. And, I guess, Olympia would not remain unaffected bv our entrance and continue to 'present herself so totally, so completely without· reserve to our contemplation and study. If she could seem to, she would be putting on an act. · Thus, although man is the proper study of man, no man can approach another man with the same liberty that he can approach the image of a man. That liberty is felt as a freedom from the respect, the reverence, even the love which is owed by us to all men. It is rude to stare at your neighbors, or to make personal remarks about them. But t\·erything in a pictUre is there to be seen and commented on. Pictures have no embarrassing secrets and we need have no modestv or courtesy about asking them to yield up all their truths: it is not a matter of *A lecture given in Annapolis at St. John's College in February, 1967. impertinence. All that is needed is to know how to let the questions take shape and grow from one another, and all from what is before our eyes. Moreover, unlike the real world, images do not require immediate action of us: they only ask our understanding. Since the\· onh· ha,·e a borrm:ved being, we need not react to them as we· must to what they image. In a picture we can behold the Crucifixion or the J\.1assacre of the Innocents, free from the summons to active participation. That is a relief, and an opportunity. \:Vere we presented with the events themselves, there is some probability, is there not, that we would be confused by the situation, as others have been, and play the fool, the coward or the knave? But since the pictures are but shadows, we are spared the responsibility of immediate action: we can cast away the crutch of prejudice and acknowledge that our opinions are but opinions, while we search the pictures freely for what they mean. I do not mean, however, that this detachment is dispassionate. If what we beheld in imagination did not talk to ns about our lives and the real world we live in, it could not move us and involve us in its illusion. It would be more remote from us than the animals in the zoo. If, for example, in Giotto's Massacre of the Innocents, the long pointed sword levelled at the helpless child did not sear our souls and all but make us catch our breaths, we would not have seen the picture. Yet that motion of the soul is utterly different in its kind from any we would experience if we were present. \Vhether emotions of horror, f.ear, or rage possessed us, \Ve would never let our hungry eyes search every detail of the scene for the mere sake of knowing it completely. The special gift of the imagination is that it lets us for a moment separate acting from what we feel and think. Through the distance it provjdes, we can bear to behold what we might otherwise find unendurable, whether it is the beauty of life or its terror. Furthermore, if we are \villing to reflect on v,rhat we have felt and thought as we \vatched, we may learn things about ourselves hidden from us when we act. Hmv we respond to an image is not irrelevant to hmv we respond when face to face. The imagination then can be an instrument for learning. If I should read you all of Dante's Hell, we would fancy ourselves together in the \'ast scene that his \VOrds present, though we would hear no sighs, feel nci heat, no blast 7 �The College of wind or burning sand and ice. Hell would be before us and yet we would not be in it. We would be immobile, and yet we would be moved. We would feel strange feelings, shadows of real feelings, for they would not prompt us to action as real feelings do. We would not be so much paralyzed or chained, as at rest from initiating action, at leisure, our minds alert and questioning, our wills not asleep but at play, as we apprehend and respond. \Ve would be perplexed and amazed, and again, satisfied with the delight of understanding; we would judge, too, liking this or that character, approving and disapproving this action or that word, praising and blaming as we went along. But as it is, I shall only read a tiny part of the whole, the fifth of thirty-four cantos. I shall read this canto so that ,,,e may I-iave it in common to discuss together. Understanding is our unique goal. Just as we may rejoice in the illuminating way that horror is presented in a play like Oedipus, because the truth, even in the small parts of it that we can grasp, is always a joy, despite the distress with which we have had to seek it and the disillusionment we have felt when we have mistaken it, so the truth about sin, if we can but find it, and know it when we have found it, will be for us a light in the darkness, even though sin itself is the only darkness in the luminous splendor of creation. If we are in Hell tonight, it will be above all because our minds are taken up with Hell, and our discourse, now and in the question period, will all reflect one particular image of it. Dante and his guide, the poet Virgil, have entered the gate of Hell with its terrible inscription: You that are entering, abandon every hope. They have crossed the river Acheron, passed through the first circle and visited the noble castle, the eternal dwelling of great poets, heroes and philosophers. Now they come to Minos the judge, in the second circle. Thus I descended from the first circle down into the second, which bounds a smaller space and so much more of pain that goads to wailing. There stands Minos horrible, snarling, examines their offences at the entrance, judges and dispatches them as he girds himself; I mean that when the ill-born soul somes before him it confesses all, and that discerner of sins s·ees what is the place for it in Hell and encircles himself with his tail as many times as the grades he will have it sent down. Always before him is a crowd of them; they go each in turn to the judgment; thcv speak and hear and then are hurled below. "0 thou who comest to the abode of pain," 1\1inos said \vhen he smv me, leaving the business of his great office, "Look how thou enterest and in whom. thou trustest; let not the breadth of the entrance deceive thee." 8 And my Leader said to him: "\~Thy dost thou make an outcry? Hinder not his fated journey. It is so willed where will and power are one; and ask no more." Now the notes of pain began to reach my ears; now I am come where great wailing breaks on me. I came to a place where all light was mute and where was bellowing as of a sea in tempest that is beaten by conflicting winds. The hellish storm never resting, seizes and drives the spirits before it; smiting and whirling them about, it torments them. \~'hen they come before its fury there are shrieks, weeping and lamentation, and there they blaspheme the power of God; and I learned that to such torment are condemned the carnal sinners who subject reason to desire. As in the cold season their wings bear the starlings in a broad, dense flock, so does the wind blast the wicked spirits. Hither, thither, downward, upward, it drives them; no hope ever comforts them, not to say of rest, but of less pain. And as the cranes go chanting their lays, making of themselves a long line in the air, so I saw approach with long-drawn 1vailings shades borne on these battling winds, so that I said, "Master, who are these people whom the black air so scourges?" "The first among those of whom thou wouldst know" he said to me then "was Empress of peoples of many tongues, who was so corrupted by licentious vice that she made lust lawful in her law to take away the scandal into which she was brought; she is Semiramis, of whom we read that she succeeded Ninus, being his wife, and held the land which the Soldan rules. The next is she who slew herself for love and broke faith with the ashes of Sychaeus, and then wanton Cleopatra; see Helen, for whose sake so many years of ill revolved; and see the great Achilles, who fought at the last with love; see Paris, Tristan-" and he showed me mme than a thoussand shades, naming them as he pointed, whom love parted from our life. \Vhen I heard my Teacher name the knights and ladies of old times, pity came upon me and I was as one bewildered. I began: "Poet, I would fain speak with these two that go together and seem so light upon the wind." And he said to me: "TI10u shalt see when they are nearer to us, and do thou entreat them theTI by the love that leads them, and they will come." As soon as the wind bent their course to us I raised mv voice: "0 wearied souls, come and speak with us, if One forbids it not." As doves, summoned by desire, come with �July 1971 J\1inos . .. examines their offences at the entrance. wings poised and motionless to the sweet nest, borne by their will through air, so these left the troop where Dido is, coming to us through the malignant air; such force had my loving call. "0 living creature gracious and friendly, who goest through the murky air visiting us who stained the world with blood, if the King of the universe were our friend, we would pray to Him for thy peace, since tho·u hast pity on our evil plight [mal perverso J. Of that which thou art pleased to hear and speak we will hear and speak with you while the wind is quiet, as here it is. The city where I was born lies on the shore where the Po, with the streams that join it, descends to rest. Love, which is quickly kindled in the gentle heart, seized this ·man for the fair form that was taken from me, and the manner afllicts me still. Love, which absolves no one beloved from loving, seized me so strongly with his charm that, as thou seest, it does not leave me vet. Love brought us to one death. Caina waits for him who quenched our life." 1l1ese words were borne from them to us. And when I heard these offiicted souls I bent my head and held it down so long that at last the Poet said to me: "\'Vhat are thy thoughts?" \Vhen I answered I began: "Alas, how many sweet thoughts, how great desire, brought them to the woeful pass!" Then.! turned to them again to speak and began: "Francesca, thy torments make me weep for grief and pity, but tell me, in the time of your sweet sighing how and by what occasion did love grant you to know your uncertain desires?" She answered me: "There is no greater pain than to recall the happy time in misery, and this thy teacher knows; but if thou hast so great desire to know our love's first root, I shall tell as one may that weeps in telling. Vve read one day for pastime of Lancelot, how love constrained him. \'Ve were alone and had no misgiving. Many times that reading drew our eyes together and changed the color in our faces, but one point alone it was that mastered us; when he read that the longed-for smile was kissed by so great a lover, he who never shall be parted from me, all trembling, kissed my mouth. A Galeotto was the book and he that wrote it; that day we read in it no farther." While the one spirit said this the other wept so that for pi tv I swooned as if in death and dropped like a dead body. [Translator, John D. Sinclair] Pity overcame Dante. He tells us: \:Vhile Francesca spoke, Paolo wept so that I swooned for pity, as though I had died, and I fell down like a dead body. 9 �The College Again, at the beginning of the sixth canto, he speaks of the return of thought which had shut itself up in the face of the pathos of the two, the brother and sister-in-law. \\That stirs this pity? The terrible plight of the two lovers, buffeted by the black wind, blown about forever in the dark, without hope of rest, tossed '"On the blast lightly, like feathers or leaves, they lighter than all the rest. They are infinitely weary, weary of the motion and the noise. Francesca knows no greater means to express her appreciation for Dante's first kind greeting than to say that if she could, she would pray for Dante's peace. She fancies the whole world is as weary as she is, so that when she is describing her home a·s situated near the mouth of the Po, she is naturally led to speak of the river and its tributaries as seeking peace in the open sea, an end to the rushing of turbulent waters. If only she could find peace, too! The pathos of the lovers is heightened by their gratitude for the hint of commiseration in Dante's greeting. He, a visitor, with a poet's imagination, knows what they feel and he says to them: 0 wearied souls, come talk with us. He has but to speak these words and Francesca calls him gracious and kind, regretting that they cannot invoke the blessing of peace on him. She welcomes his pity. Now pity, I think, tends to imply a superiority to the person pitied. \Ve pity those who are worse off than ourselves, those who are poorer, weaker, sadder than we are. \Ve pity the sick, the helpless, the young. \Ve feel pity for suffering and deprivation. But when we suffer ourselves as much as others, we tend to withdraw our pity; and wheri we are in immediate fear of what they are suffering, we may shut up our hearts and even do violence to those who might otherwise command our pity. The plague of Athens shows us such terrible scenes. Any panic may, as hen a ship sinks, or fire breaks out in· a crowd. Thus, to a calculatin.g soul, pity is a luxury, an indulgence reserved for the rich, for the fortunate, for those whom life has favored. Pride may even reject the offer of pity as an intended humiliation. Not so Francesca: her quick response to Dante's pity opens the way for ours. She reveals at once how much she longs to talk, and her gratitude shows her goodness as well as her need. Our pity for the suffering of good V11 of forces beyond themselves that are responsible for their undoing. It is not, it seems to me, that Francesca is seeking to justify herself ~nd Paolo. Nothing she says makes me feel that she thmks thetr acts need justification. Did they not give themselves to love? Could there be a higher commrtment? Nevertheless, they have been subjected to vwlence, and they. are deeply a:-vare of their own pathos. Paolo cannot get hrs fill of weepmg. They express gratitude to Dante just because he has pity on what Francesca c;;Jls "our perverse misfortune." He shows himself therebv a friend. If only the king of the universe were their friend! But he is not, as she says; and she shows it by her story. She tells that story in three swift stanzas: Love, which is swiftly kindled in a gentle heart. seized this man with the beautiful body which was taken from me; and the manner afflicts me still. Love, which absolves no one who is 1ored from loving, seized me so strongly with his charm, that as you see, even now it does not leave me. Love led us to one death: Caina waits for him who quenched our life. The word Love begins each of the three stonzas. Love dominates the whole story. First it seized on Paolo, using her beauty as its means. And then it seized on her, using her delight in him. Finally it led them both to one death. Love is the protagonist. Love did this to them. They were acted on by it: in themselves they were essentially passive. Consent is not even mentioned. 'This is perhaps the the most pathetic aspect of their tale. \Ve are pitied for what happens to us even more than for what we do ourselves. \Ve pity the helpless, and we pity Paolo and Francesca as helpless, helpless in the face of their passion. The word passion derives from the same roots as the word passive, from the \vords in Latin and Greek that mean to suffer. Perhaps we are inclined to think of ourselves as most active and alive when we are moved by passion, but does that not disregard the distinction between what prompts us from without and what \Ve originate of our own? Francesca makes it cle3r that their love was passion in the sense of something that seized upon them, that found them as a pas;in· material. A gentle heart is swiftly fired with loYe: ler it but meet with beauty and it is inflamed. In Francesca's account the word Love is made the subject of verbs of force and violence. Later on she "'" of Lancelot, too: men is deeper than the promiscuous sentiment which ern- braces from a distance all the victims of a general disaster. \Ve prefer to like those whom we pity. \Vithout prompting, Francesca interprets Dante's request as an invitation to recount their grief. It is the story she tells which places the .greatest claim on Dante's pity, and ours. In it she and Paolo appear as victims, victims 10 \Ve read how love constrained Lance! at. And of their reading about that ill-fated lm·er, she san lv!anv 'times it drove our eyes to· meet, but it was jus·t one point which conquered us. �July 1971 Love itself leads, seizes and constrains; even the reading about love drives and conquers. I think we all know just what she means. Virgil did when he showed Dido burning with unrestrained desire for Aeneas, contrary to prudence, her country's interest and her own solemn vows. But Venus is a goddess whose might is not to be scorned. 'Nhatever her correct name and the nature of her power it is something not subject to our command, something whose im~;act we acknowledge at once and often praise, but also fear. For we must not confuse the loveliness of Aphrodite, or her fondness for youth and beauty, with her ways, which are not, it seems to me, always gentle or kind. In the Symposium Agathon calls Eros tender, because he associates with the tender. But that is bad logic. Most of us hm·e known moments of \'lo1ence in love, and sooner or ·later, in ourselves or in others we hav·e seen how ruthless Aphrodite can be, how implacable. She tells us so herself in the beginning of the Hippolytus: Mighty am I among mortals, and not without a name; and so it is too among the gods. If we have any doubt what she means, that play shows us. Francesca, too, proclaims the power of love. She says, Love, which absolves no one who is loved from loving, seized me so strongly with his charm, that as you see, even now it does not leave me. Love, she argues, begets love by its very nature. Imitation is the natural response of the beloved. Love cannot pardon that heart which turns away from it: it is a force, a force more overwhelming than beauty, for it has the power to condemn: Love . . . absolves no one who rs loved from loving. Beauty appeals to the gentle heart, but it is not a god. Love is, and thus is inescapable. It is death not to .return love. On the other hand, love returned has eternal life. Francesca says: Even now it does not leave me. the deformed or crippled son of the ruler of neighboring Rimini, presumably for political reasons. She and her brother-in-law Paolo fell in love. Francesa's tale leads ns to infer that her husband surprised them and killed them together. She says he will be in Caina when he dies. Cain a is named for Cain: it is a part of the lowest depths of Hell, a frozen pit where Dante finds fixed in the ice those who are guilty of betraying their relatives. Terrible were the consequences of their following the rule and the logic of love, Paolo responding to Francesca's beauty, she to his love and his beauty. They paid love all its rites, and now they find themselves in Hell. That is what they mean by their "perverse misfortune": the whole world was ordered against their love. Theirs is a tragic pathos. Love imposed itself on them and they gave themselves to its high laws wholeheartedly. They risked everything to giv·e it life. But that love was only a challenge to the world as it is ordered, a moving defiance not destined to bring them a joy as lasting as the love itself. They were fated to a tragic end. Part of their nobility is that although they weep in Hell, they do not whine. They do not protest. They are dignified in defeat, not humiliated by their condition as outcasts. Unlike others Dante will meet, they do not demean themselves with obscene and empty protest. They speak of the power arrayed against them with the formal respect that sovereigns show who have fallen out and gone to war, but maintain the tone of former relations. Their enemy is still a king to them. If only they did not happen to be his enemies, they would sue to him for Dante's peace. They have something of the fierceness of the ancient heroes, too, when they think of the man who quenched their life: there is a quiver of deep hate and satisfaction at the revenge which his destiny will provide. That is almost the last word in Francesca's account; it is brief, final, as .cold as the pit where he will be found. Their love is tragic precisely because the king of the universe is not their friend. They do not have in their hands the power to control the world, nor does the love to which they gave themselves. The basis of the tragedy is that there are many gods, and no justice. The only justice they can find in the world is that their murder will be revenged; but they too must endure the endless frustration and darkness of Hell. Dante may have pity on them; the king of the universe will not. \Vhatever name we give to him, Zeus, Fate, Necessity, he is in- Yet love led them to death together. Mere spirits now in Hell, in the world above they had their place in the public eye. Paolo was an able and attractive man, Captain of the People in Florence when Dante was 17, shortly before the murder took place. Dante knew Francesca's nephew well. He was the lord of Ravenna and Dante lived as his guest during the last period of his long and bitter exile from Florence. Theirs is a shocking story, virtually unknown except for what Francesca tells us. She hersel( speaks of her beauty, and yet she was married to different to the things we cherish most. \Ve have come to the low point of our study, to the dark valley in which the tragic view of the world has us in its chilling grip. There is no consolation to be seen beyond the splendor of noble and dignified resistance to the ruler of the universe, who is no friend of love. Our pity has developed and revealed its close alliance with fear. \Ve pity while we think we are exempt or superior; we only begin to fear when we see we are in danger ourselves. As we ca·me closer to Paolo and Francesca, our pity ll �The College The hellish storm never resting, seJZes and drives the spirits before it. is not exempt from a shudder of terror at their fate. Who is safe from the catastrophe of love, whether it come by way of a disastrous commitment like theirs, or by way of resistance or renunciation like Hippolytus'? If love has the power to command and yet leads to Hell, what justice is there? Is it only by chance we can hope to escape? Is the king of the universe a friend of. ours? If not, are we prepared to resist nobly? D~ we want to? These questions press us hard, too. If the whole world is arrayed against Jove and yet encourages and even constrains us to be lovers, we must indeed search ourselves to know what part we can and should sustain in the tragedy, be it that of the hero or the nurse, of the chorus that weeps or the one whose choice makes the catastrophe inevitable. • • * • • lament. So far we have listened to the story as Francesca intends us to hear it, and even the translation, not to mention the original, shows her to be an accomplished poet. Now if poetry and the imagination, as I have claimed, have powers that can lead to understanding and right action, it is also the case that the abuse of those powers can lead to confusion and sin. Poetry, like love, may invite imitation, but the invitation cannot be accepted uncritically. I wonder if the poet Dante does not intend us to find out things about Francesca that she in her tragic abandon cannot see and only reveals involuntarily. Her poetry is contained within his. She speaks from Hell. Dante the poet contrived his encounter with Francesca among the damned. 'Nhy is she there? Is Hell only, as she imagines, the place where a triumphant tyrant thrusts his vanquished opponents? Or is there something damning about Francesca that works to withdraw her from our pity, no matter how appealing her figure may be? The premise of our pity for Paolo and Francesca is not only their suffering, but its injustice. We feel an immediate pity for the frustrated love of two beautiful people, who respond to one another with sensitivity; we feel revulsion at the disproportion between Francesca's beauty and the deformity and violence of her husband Gianciotto. But that pity would be tninsformed entirely, it might even disappear, if their suffering were felt to be just. It seems to me that if we are to find anything but a pagan tragedy in the story of Paolo and Francesca, it will have to be by finding some reason to question the assumption they make that they are the victims of injustice. It may seem unjust that they who fit so well together should be barred from the union they so desire, barred, as some may say, by convention. But are they in Hell only because they committed adultery? Dante is silent about their crime. That might be because they were such prominent figures in his day that he could take it for granted it was well known to his readers. But there are adulterers in his Heaven: no less a person than King David, for one. Dante's silence, as well as Francesca's, in\'ites us to seek in her mvn words for a deeper source But there is a prior question: granting that Francesca sees their story as a tragedy, is there no alternative to her view? Let us not hasten to her fearful conclusion. Let us beware of the seduction of the imagination, of the impulse to adopt the tragic pose, to sound the pathetic 12 of her losing her. way and becoming forever lost. Can we see misdirection even in \Vhat she says about love? If we could, we would see adultery as a mere symptom of a more fatal disease, a symptom Da-nte himself need not mention by·name, since he reveals the malady itself. �July 1971 This is not a simple task and I may easily make mistakes in carrying it out. Even where I do not err, it may not be easy to follow: our prejudices are deeply involved. But Dante expected that: in fact, here on the threshold of Hell, he has done his best to involve them directly in order that we may become aware of them and know them for what they are. I hope that in trying to follow him 1Ve may come to agree at least that it is not necessary to share the tragic view of those whom he pictures as doomed to spend eternity in Hell. The fundamental question is the question of justice: is there a just proportion between the Jot of Paolo and Francesca and the love they have given themselves to? But first, what is that love? Let me take as a clue the follo\\'ing question: why are Paolo and Francesco so pleased by Dante's affectionate appeal, that they leave their place in the long file of souls and swoop down with the combi- as though he had heard them both. Yet only Francesco had spoken. Again, though he says a few minutes later I turned back to them and spoke he actually begins, Francesca, thy torments and yet he means the torments of them both. They are before him in an indissoluble unity, much as in that tragi-comic fable Aristophanes tells at the banquet at Agathon's, when the absurd half-men that we are in that myth, clinging together in longing, beg Hephaistos to weld them finally into one great round body again, to go skipping and tumbling nimbly on four feet and four hands, forgetting their distress for one another. nation of tenderness and eagerness that Dante remembers in the dove returning to its nest, just before it alights, while with wings outspread it glides to rest where its hearts directs it. If they are all in all to one another, what need have they of him? Are they not still together? Certainly that is the very first thing we are told about them: Poet [says Dante J I would gladly talk with those two that go together. Is it not a consolation that they are companions forever, a compensation for what was denied them in life? Francesco exults in the fact: it is the measure of the Jove she has aroused in Paolo. Vi'hen she describes their first kiss she says, When we read that the longed-for smile was kissed by so great a lover, he who shall never be parted from me, all trembling kissed my mouth. The kiss of Lancelot, immortalized by the poet, is imitated by the kiss of Paolo, which is an eternal bond between him and Francesco. But they are even more intimately together than at first appears. Francesco says: I will be like one who weeps and speaks. In fact, however, that task is divided between the two of them. Paolo weeps while Francesco does all the speaking. She says, We will listen and speak to you but only her voice is heard: Paolo's weeping is a constant accompaniment. Yet Dante regularly speaks as though the colloquv were with them both. When Francesco stops for the first time, he says Now supposing [says Aristophanes] Hephaistos were to come and stand over them with his tool bag as they lay there side by side, and suppose he were to ask, Tell me, my dear creatures, what do you really want with one another? And suppose they didn't know what to say and he went on, How would you like to be rolled into one, so that you could always be together, day and night, and never be parted again? Becaus·e, if that is what you want, I can easily weld you together, and then you can live your two lives in one, and when the time comes, you can die a common death, and still be two-in-one in the lower world. Now what do you say? Is that what you'd like me to do? And would you be happy if I did? V\le may be sure, gentlemen, that no lover on earth would dream of refusing such an offer, for not one of them could imagine a happier fate. Indeed, they would be convinced that this was just what they'd been waiting for, to be merged that is, into utter oneness with the beloved. [Translator, M. Joyce] Paola and Francesco have achieved what Aristophanes' lovers desire. Let me take another image, one that Dante himself suggests when on the mount of Purgatory he again encounters the sin of lust. There one of the bands of sinners says b)' way of explanation that their sin was hermaphroditic. As the context shows, he means that it was between man and woman, but without regard for human law and proportion. \\Thy does he call that lust hermaphroditic? Paolo and Francesco give us the clue. As Ovid tells the tale in his Metamorphoses, Hermaphrodite was a beautiful young man, the son of Hermes and Aphrodite. One \Vhen I heard these afflicted souls da~' a water nymph, Salmacis, saw him and at once fell in love with his beauty. He refus·ed her advances. 13 �The College But then, as he was swimming in a pool unawares, she flung herself about him in a tight embrace. He struggled to escape her grasp. But she called on the gods in prayer: Let no day divide him from me, or me from him. And the gods granted her request: the two grew into one so that, as Ovid says, They were not two but a double form ... neither and both they seemed. This is the two-in-oneness Paolo and Francesca have achieved. Even their death was one, as Francesca says; and they subsist in death as one, remembering with tears the day when love bound them together forever. Francesca says of her companion, This man who will never be divided from me; just as she says that her love for him still does not abandon her. They are together forever with the same love they always had. \Vhy is that not enough for them? Need I ask, with the wind blowing them about in the darkness, mere wraiths unable to give one another the comfort and joy of their bodies, that were torn from them when they left the sweet bright light above? But is it only because they lack bodies that they turn to Dante? Do they not in that motion reveal a hunger which the body can never fill? Aristophanes said no lovers could imagine a happier fate than to be together, as Paolo and Francesca are together, in life and in death. ~-But that is not the experience of Paolo and Francesca. \Ve cannot forget the pathos of their haunting figures. Dante cannot hear them speak without being moved to tears. He faints at the end. They frankly claim his pity with their tears. _,,~ \Vhat can his pity be to them? Does not Paolo pro, vide for Francesca a sympathy that is complete because his case is identical? No, apparently not. What is it that is missing in Paolo? Is he not the perfect listener? He weeps throughout, and no one better than he can appreciate every nuance in what Francesca says. They are so close that she can speak for him; he can listen for her; his tears are her tears. But, by a simple and drastic substitution we may say: she is talking to herself, he is listening to himself, weeping for himself, weeping the tears of self-pity. Like everyone else in Hell, Paolo and Francesca are SOIT)' only for themselves, each for himself. Their union has destroyed their individual integrity and their being together is a dazzling deception. Their predicament is parallel to that of Ovid's Narcissus, who feD in love vhth his own image, when he 14 saw it mirrored m a spring. On discovering his plight he says: I am burning with Jove for myself; I kindle the fire and I feel its heat. \Vhat am I to do? Shall I entreat, or wait to be entreated? But what shall I ask for? \Vhat I desire is with me. My riches make me poor. 0 that I could secede from our body. It is a novel prayer for a lover, but I wish that what we love were not here. Like self-love, self-pity is hard to understand. If it were not a familiar fact, I would hesitate to propose anything so strange. Pity is something we seem to feel for another; it tends, I think, to be felt for someone suffering what we are exempt from. It implies a detachment from the actual experience of the sufferer. How then is self-pity possible? Perhaps it is by virtue of the imagination. I notice that I seem to feel pity most readily for characters in a movie, or a book. Perhaps then self-pity is possible just because we think of ourselves as figures in a story. That happens especially when we make poetry of our sufferings in telling them to someone else. We detach ourselves from ourselves by the imagination, as though we were watching ourselves in a play, and in that attitude we behold ourselves in fascination, imprisoned in passivity by our being spectators. \Ve cannot act as long as the trance of self-pity endures, any more than we can at the theatre. But does our pity for the self we imagine bring consolation? I think not; for pity sees its object as helpless and weak. Self-pity rivets attention on what has been suffered, on the past, on defeat; it annihilates hope and the possibility of action. Yet it is only in action that men can find happiness. Self-pity arrests acti<m in the beholder, encourages despair in the self beheld. In itself it is infinite. It gives neither the joy of consoling nor of being consoled. It is a form of self-abuse and we rightly feel humiliated by it. Meanwhile we have exhausted our capacity to love what is not the self, by turning it back reflexively through the imagination on the self. Love and self-pity are incompatible. What pity can Paolo have for Francesca, or she for him, that is not drowned in the great sea of pity each feels for himself? But is it really pity Francesca wants? Pity implies distance, superiority, condescension. Pity is even com- patible with stern judgement. Francesca wants the solidarity that comes from sharing what one has been suffering alone. She wants sympathy. What is the difference' Sometimes we use the word pity ambiguously as though it were a synonym for sympathy; sometimes, e\'en, we accept expressions of pity for those of sympathy, espcciall1· if they echo our own self-pity. But if pity implies that the one \vho pities is not experiencing what the sufferer is, then it can easily be distinguished from S\·mpatl~,-­ which always feels exactly what the sufferer feels. Yet sympathy is a relation between two distinct· persons: 1f �July 1971 Dante: "Pcet, I would fain speak 11·it/; these two that go together." self-pity i; :ncTIStrous, self-sympathy is impossible. Sympathy- ~ like a musical octav.e: two. different _voices sounding tht o;:occe tone. Its form rs duality, the ratm 1:2. By contrast ?::-y is like a concordant mterval, two VOI~es sounding d::'tce:;t but intimately related tones. Self-prty, as distinct £-:-::n pitY, is not any interval at all, not even unison. Fe :: E;Jlson is an inten,al, it still requires two voices ::e: ~G:.:~d. \Yhile in self-pity there is only the one voice, and ::.~ ·.•:t2r".somc echo. Perhaps I ::;, 0 ~luitratc the difference I intend between pity and ss-rc.~:l:·: br tsro episodes from Herodotus. When his vast am:-' ~c:' oeet were gathered at the Hellespont Xerxe; c.c_,c,ci to look upon all his bast; so, as there -,.·c: < :~.:one of white marble upon a hill near t~.~ :::-. -.··hich thcv of Abydos had prepared bt'•cctc.:· ~-the bng's bidding, for his o• e:.o;:;:::·~: _:.-:. ~(:GC.5 took his seat on it, and, gaz- inc the:.:e ·cc-:o the shore below, beheld at one vr;._,_. '-· '-' ·:c"d forces and all his ships . . . . Ad r.:- ,, '"looked and saw the whole Hellespc,c,' :: ':cc ·':! 1 the s-csscls of his fleet, and all ll.c ·- ., ·-: o.n pl:~in about Abydos as full 2' : · _ c - c," '<;, f'lS congratulated hrmself or. ·.:: _ :c:unc: but after a little while he v:c--:::. There came upon me a sudden pity, when I thought of the shortness of man's life and considered that of all this host so numerous as it is, not one will be alive when a hundred vears are ' gone by. Xerxes pities man for the shortness of his life: it is a generic pity far from any sympathy for an individual soldier. For just a few pages earlier we read of Pythius the Lydian, who won great favor with Xerxes by offering him all his Yast treasure of money. Yet when Pvthius asked Xerxes to sp3re one of his five sons from sen,ice so he could remain at home, Xerxes was enraged and commanded his men to seek out the eldest of the som of Pythius and having cut his body asunder, to place the two halves, one on the right, the other on the left of the great road, so that the army might march out between them. Thus he granted Pythius' request. This savage jest may il]m:trate how far his pit~' \V8S from any sharing in the sufferings of other men. His pitv depended on the height of his throne above the scene that moved him to tears. Francesca longs to share her grief. If she is to get beyond the sterilitY of self-pity, there must be someone else besides herself, a listener who will see independently, and 15 �The College yet agree with her and respond as she does. Making poetry out of her suffering is not enough: through its means she wants to bring Dante, and all the world, to share what they have experienced. The tyranny of her relationship to Paolo excludes him as that listener: Paolo's words are her words, and as such have no power to refresh her. None of the rest of the spirits are any better. Men are made to live together, but in Hell everyone is alone. Even though the spirits in this circle flock together, they are like starlings and cranes, mere birds that feel no affection for one another. They move as a bunch, all subject to the same rule, all blown by the same wind, but that bunch is made of heartless individuals, each unmoved by the other. From this circle on down Hell is a city best: easy, effortless, spontaneous and joyful. But by the g·entle heart Francesca seems to mean one that falls quickly in love and is easily inflamed with desire, prepared by reading and other occupations to welcome and cultivate appetite. Such would seem to be the case of Lancelot, and of Paolo and Francesca. The gentleness of heart she is thinking of is mere intensity of feeling and passion, not the fruit of reflection and art. The beauty which moved her and Paolo, she tells us, was physical beauty, and the activity was that of ungoverned sexual desire. Dante put it another way when he wrote the sonnet that begins: Love that in my thoughts discourses, without citizens; no one acknowledges a bond with anyone else. They are all caught in the loneliness of indifferent and often degrading company. Below Limbo what speech they exchange can give them no joy, no relief. No one listens. There is no one to talk to. Dante on the other hand is alive. The first thing Francesca says is: "0 living creature." Being alive, he can still feel sympathy. He can listen, and understand and care. In all that company he alone can weep with them: all the rest are deaf. \Vhat does she say in the last words of hers that will reach a living ear? She tells him about their love, beginning each time from a universal proposition and moving to their particular case. Love [she says] . . . is quickly kindled in the gentle heart. Now there is a famous sonnet of Dante's that begins, in much the same way: Love and the gentle heart are one. Dante wrote a commentary on his sonnet to show that he meant that the heart is a material whose proper form or act is love, just as the eye is material to the . act of sight. The act of love is the proper form of the gentle heart. The Italian word can mean more than gentle, tender or soft; it suggests that delicacy and rightness of feeling which is cultivated by education and training, a combination of goodness of manners and goodness of heart. A heart that is what a heart should be, will act in love. Beauty, the sonnet says, is what brings it to this activity. The words of Francesca are similar. But there is ambiguity about what they mean. They may mean that a heart disciplined by philosophy and the arts, religion and the sonnet which the musician Casella sings just after the souls land in Purgatory. Love discourses, or reasons, as the Italian puts it, using reason and discourse synonymously, just as Greek uses logos for both rational thought and speech. Love discourses. Animals, on the other hand, feel the power of sexual desire without discourse. But since reason is intervvoven with our very being, we are incapable of this separation. There is always the question of consent for us. A dog or a pig has not the privileges and responsibilities of consent to what he experiences as an uncontrollable drive. V.' e, in consenting or refusing consent, acknowledge a principle of good, or disregard it, in every act. That is the role of reason in our actions. Vi'hen we make the distinction between love and sex, it seems to me that we mean that love, unlike sex, is always in easy communion with reason and discourse. I do not mean that love is always talking, though lovers usually talk a lot. I do not mean to underestimate the love that expresses itself in silence. But an account can be given of love, an account which aims to make sense and show how it is good. Reason is the connection between action and the good. \Vhen we give the reasont we show how it is good. Now to give an account of a love is to show its order with respect to the whole. Sexual pleasure is only one of many goods: obviously, we need not condemn sex to prefer something else to it in a given moment, or in a given relationship. Vi'hen love discourses, it includes the whole world in its discourse. In the ceremony of marriage and its vows a certain kind of love is ordered to the family, to society, and to God. The discourse of reason is universal; it is open to a1l \vho can understand it. Paolo and Francesca's "love," on the other hand, is entireh· secret and private. That is not merely because it is illegal or dangerous. J'-.:either Paolo nor Francesca seems good m~mncrs is easily moved to act in love, for that is to me so timid or so conventional as to give '"'eight to the natural mode of the heart set free by all those means and guided by the truth they instill. The love may be a love of wisdom or the state, the love of the home or the the law or to danger beside the great fact of their will and their desire. Their love is private because they see it as concerning them alone. They think it is their business and no one else's. The look which they exchanged on that fate· ful day included nothing but themselves; it excluded arts, the love of a parent or the love of a man for a woman, but it will be gracious and· graceful, human action at its 16 �July 1971 \Vhile Francesca spoke, Paolo wept so that I swooned for pity. • everything bevond their consent to one another's desire. 1\:aturally, then, Francesca's tale makes no mention of her adultery as such. \Vhen she speaks of their region in Hell, \vhich is designated by Dante as the place of carnal sinners who subject reason to desire, Francesca says that Dante is visiting those who stained the world with blood. For her the salient feature of her fate is the violence of her death, not that it was the outcome of disorderly lust. When she says of her violent death, "the manner of it affiicts me still," I wonder if she does not have in mind the shocking and terrible way in which their sweet secrecy was invaded by an alien and external world, in the person of her husband. Their nakedness was exposed, their privacy was outraged and profaned by what in her opinion had no place in it, no right to intrude. Love for her is entirely exclusive. It is a striking thing that Francesca does not mention her husband except as "the one who extinguished our life." Vllhen. she does mention him, she gloats that he will pay for his violence with torments worse than what ·they themselves are enduring. She does not hint of her marriage, nor Paolo's, nor the children which each of them had. They do not figure in her tale. In framing her account of Jove, its power and its requirements, Fran- cesca succeeds in hiding from herself, and perhaps from us, any other obligations she may have. The supremacy of her love for Paolo is unquestioned. It leaves no room for her to remember anything else. But is love something we can restrict thus to ourselves? \Vhat did their love do to the lives they touched on? \Ve may guess by looking at their companions in Hell, for their lives are recorded in poetry and history. Paris and Helen \W> know well, Helen "for whose sake so many vears of ill revolved," as Virgil says to Dante. Think for moment of the horrors Homer tells: the spear in the throat or the bladder; the severed head rolling between the legs of the men as they fight; the tug of war over Patroclus' body. See Helen,· Virgil says to Dante. And a wanton Cleopatra dressed Antony in her own clothes, while she played with his sword. In the· end she drove him on to make the fatal choice between love and empire, setting up the private in open conflict with the public. At Actium the battle was joined for the whole world, with her and Antony on one side, and cold Octavian on the other. The battle was still undecided when she deserted her lover, and he followed in her wake. Here it was [says Plutarch] that Antony showed to all the world that he was no longer actuated by the thoughts and motives of a commander or a man, or indeed by his own judgment at all, and what was once said as a jest, that the soul of a lover lies in someone else's body, he proved to be a serious truth. For, as if he had been born part of her and must move wheresoever she went, as soon as he saw her ship sailing away, he abandoned all that were fighting and spending their Jives for him ... to follow her that had so well begun his ruin and would hereafter accomplish it. 17 �The College Semiramis, as Virgil says, was so corrupted by licentious vice that she made lust lawful in her law, to take away the scandal into which she was brought. '\Vhile the private individual only subjects reason in himself, though the consequences may be wider, a queen has the power to overthrow reason's expression in the law. S·emiramis subverts the whoie order of society to conceal her disorder and escape censure. But lust cannot serve as law; knowing no order or restraint itself, it can only destroy the order of the family and the peace of the state. The making of such a law brings law itself into disrepute. If law and lust are synonymous, nothing is left but tyranny and the war of every man against every other. Like Semiramis' love, Dido's undid the city she ruled. \Vhen Aeneas comes to Carthage, as the Aeneid says, he marvels at the gateways and hum of the paved streets. The Tyrians are hot at work to trace the walls, to rear the citadel, and roll up great stones by hand, or to choose a place for their dwelling and enclose it with a furrow. They ordain justice and magistrates, and the august senate. Here some are digging harbors, here others lay the deep foundations for theatres, and hew out of the cliff vast columns, the lofty ornaments of the stage to be . . . "Happy they whose city already rises!" cries Aeneas. But Venus intervenes. Dido falls in love with Aeneas. Stung to misery Dido wanders in frenzy all dmvn the city, even as an arrow~stricken deer, whom ... a shepherd has pierced and left the flying steel in her unaware.... No more do the unfinished towers rise, no more do the people exercise in arms, nor work for safe;ty in \Var on harbor or bastion; the works are broken off, vast looming walls, and engines towering into the sky. \Vhen Dido achieves the unioh her frenzy craves, the poet says: That day opened the gate of death and the springs of ill. For Dido reeks not of eye or tongue, nor sets her heart on love in secret; she calls it marriage, and with this word shrouds her blame. Aeneas, recognizing a higher duty than that to his love for Dido, abandons her, and she calls down curses on him and the city he will found: Let no kindness or truce be between the nations [she cries] . .- . I invoke the enmity of 18 shore to shore, . . . sword to sword; let their battles go down to their children's children. In writing this Virgil intends us to see the Punic .,, " as the fulfillment of Dido's curses. Carthage fought • ... ..,.: wars with Rome within 120 years and the strife ·~;.;; ended wrth the utter destruction of Carthage. All tJ 1•• 1,. ·. ing inhabitants were sold as slaves. • ... This ruin is the background of Dante's dt~c-riptw:: of Dido as the one who slew herself in love and broke faith with the ashes of Sychaeus. \Vhen Dido first felt the sting of desire for Aencc•. ,;., swore a solemn oath of eternal faithfulness tu l:c: \._:::~. husband Sychaeus. Her sister urged her to ren>:·o~c". asking Do you think the ashes care for that, or the ghost within the tomb? Dido is inflamed by her sister's words, her passion ;rtr•> and soon she breaks her vow. Dante's words emplu;'.:, that the consequence of Dido's lust is not in an\' !.arm to Sychaeus, since he is dead, but in her going hoc!: on her own word, undermining the integrity of her >pe-e;; L Vi/hat can words mean when promises are made \'oiC ;;: pleasure? The next step from the attack on reason i:: speech is the triumph of unreason in her suicide. Paolo and Francesca belong to Dido's troop. Tirey too sinned in breaking faith, the faith plighted in marrugc. That broken faith is the start of the disorder which rhcr lust brought on the world and themselves. Some c' lt> consequences we can name: a husbana turned murdc-rc'!': children orphaned; the community shocked and pery!nc-'. all the more so because the lovers stood out from othc men by their position and their gifts. It is an illusion th.lt the private can be marked off completely from the puhL:. \Vhen the very nature of man is rational and soci.JL Hu acts can hardly be so private that they do not ha,·e S<•m: effect on the realm of public order, of mutual tmst ,r.: of speech. Semiramis called lust law; Dido called seduor:"" marriage. It is what Francesca does to the word lo•r :<c.: reveals most clearly how radically she rebells against'~""'" 'Ne have already seen her confuse lO\·e and deSJre c:>O< what else is she doing when she says Love . . . absol\'es no one vi·ho is lo\·ed h_,~:: returning that love. Under these highsounding words, does she not_ ·.:.c.. •. she had a duty to return Paolo's lm·e? And IS " ' ' "-suggesting delicately that her desire was the proper rc·r:c~• for his? She' cannot quite say she had a duty to 6"' · �July 1971 self to Paolo merely because be desired her. Yet the words seem to be an acknowledgment of the fact that that is what she did. Is this an account of love? To me it seems an abuse of words that have very different meanings in fact. It is true that love absolves no one who is loved from returning that love. In Dante's view God is love and the whole pity and terror of his Hell is built around the fact that God's love cannot be refused with impunity. God cannot pardon the failure of Paolo and Francesca to return his love. He cannot without violence put himself in their hearts. They have so set their wills toward one another's desire and against God's love, that they have finally shut Him out of their hearts. God's greatest gift to them was liberty, the freedom to reject Him and His world. That rejection is Hell. They have set out like gods, to build a private world of their own. In Greek the word for a private man is idiot. A private world is a world from which reason is banned: idiocy reigns. In Paolo and Francesca the rejection of God is at first a kind of moral laziness. They are all too ready to think that Aphrodite is an irresistible goddess. They elevate their passion into a god and are passive before its demands. At first they submit with enthusiasm. But the passivity of their love wearies them; it makes them weary of each other. In giving themselves up to it, they lose contact with reason, the common bond between men; reason, that by its habit of looking to the good provides a basis on which we can consent in one another's acts; reason, that is the basis of understanding and love. But these are acts, and love for Paolo and Francesca is nothing but wearying passivity in one another's company, without thought of any other opportunity or obligation. And that is Hell. Thus it is that, without being told, Dante immediately understands as soon as he sees the torment, that this is the circle of those who sinned carnally. The sinners are bodies, it would only be superficially different. \Jilere they alive and free to love as they pleased, they would still have to face that loneliness in themselves, their isolation from the community of men. Yet there is a difference between even the worst of lives in this world and the sinners' existence in Hell. As they pass through the Gate of Hell, it commands: Abandon every Hope. In Hell they are in utter hopelessness, something which is never the case in our life. Life without hope is unthinkable. Therefore the spirits in Hell are in a significant way different from us: they have died the death that is the death of the spirit. That is the Hell which is in their souls and of which, as I have suggested, the wind of the second circle is only a specific outward manifestation. Hope is the hope of something good. It is an anticipation of good. It is based on some knowledge of good. If all knowledge of good has been extinguished in a soul, what hope remains? Only the hope of exchanging evils for one another. Such is the state of the souls in Hell. Virgil ·explicitly says they have lost the good of the intellect. The good of the intellect is the truth, but in choosing this name for it, Virgil emphasizes the goodness of truth. Truth is not merely the goal we seek in learning, it is the cause of good in the measure in which it is known. \Jile are apt at times to think of the truth as something like fact, information which implies nothing about its use for good or for evil. Gorgias tries to argue that a teacher of rhetoric, like a teacher of boxing, need teach nothing at all about its use. But what the souls in Hell have lost is the power of the truth as a guide that will lead a man straight, whatever his road, as Dante says of the Sun in the first in endless, restless motion at the mercy of contrary winds. Now we are descending into the blind world. They long for peace, but peace for them can only mean annihilation. Hell for Paolo and Francesca is to love one another always exactly as they did in life; to be led forever by love in the sense that they were led by it in life. Virgil says to Dante: Implore them by that love which leads them. Yet Dante's call to them is all in terms of their fatigue and their loneliness, and they respond at once. Love is not recreation for them, not art, not grace, not act; it is to be blown about fore1·er by a dark blind wind that blows at random, they the lightest of all on the blast. Their lo\'e is Hell. It lea\'CS them even more lonely than the solitary spirits which surround them. \Vhatever comfort Francesca derives from her eternal coupling with Paolo, it cannot take the place for her of an appeal to a living heart for its heartfelt sympathy. Had they their canto. Thus the visual manifestation of what has been lost is the darkness of Hell. There is no sun, no light there. Virgil says when they s·et out into the first circle, For the darkness which is all about them thereafter, the black and murky air, is only an outward sign of the blindness of all the inhabitants of Hell. They are deprived of light, deprived of sight. They can see no good to hope for, though otherwise they see well enough. But what good is such sight? Just as the mind of a clever criminal may function intelligently, so their souls have all their mere powers intact, but the very principle of action is lost to them forever. Let us watch them as thev come before Minos the judge. He asks no questions.' Each sinner on his own acknowledges all his sins. \Jilhat makes it possible for him on arriving in Hell to know himself and confess his sins as never before? I think it is his blindness~ his loss of the truth, of the good of the intellect, How is it that the loss of truth can make a soul truthful? Tire answer lies in an ambiguity in the notion of truth. The sinner 19 �The College has nothing to hide, when he has lost all sense of the evil of sin; his truthfulness omits the central fact of all: that what he has done is wrong. At most he knows that other men do not approve. But without the light which gives goodness and life to things, what has he to hide? In the dark all cats are grey. He can be honest as never before: in Hell, even the dissemblers tell the truth about fhemse1ves. This same blindness means that whatever sense there is in the world below will be eternally invisible to the sinner. The justice of Hell is a cruel mockery to its · inhabitants. In the Aeneid, Minos is a silent, majestic judge. In Dante's Hell he has been transformed into a grotesque and repulsive monster. He growls like an angry dog, grinding his teeth in inarticulate rage. He has a 1·oice, but as he pronounces judgement, he wraps his long tail around himself as many times as the sinner mnst go down circles in He11. In his appearance and manner there is no vestige of the rational order which in fact he represents. His metamorphosis is an image of the blindness of the sinners: they cannot see that he is the agent and minister of divine justice. When Francesca says, If the king of the universe were our friend, it is as though it were a matter of whim or chance that the powers that control the world are on the other side, as Hippolytus might regret that he could not placate both Aphrodite and Artemis. The enmity of Francesca to God leaves no hope of reconciliation, because she has no longer any notion that she might be wrong. Even when she is glad that h·finos will plunge her husband into the frozen abyss, it is not, it seems to me, the justice of it that occasions her fierce delight, but the satisfaction that revenge gives her pride. Above all it is Francesca's utter lack of regret for what she has been responsible for that shows her distance from us, the mark of the dead soul: life and responsibility go hand in hand. None of the consequences of her love seem to trouble her: not her husband brought by her adultery into a temptation to which he was unequal; not Paolo who, in sharing eternity with her, shares Hell; not her children left to grow up in the shadow of the crimes of their father and mother; not her family and her state, plunged in the agitation of scandal. Her dignity and reserve, her pride is touched in no way by an admission that she has done wrong. It is all only the perverse evil of a malignant world. She has turned the whole world upside dov.m. Now we too have known moments of this kind of Hell ourselves. Those moments in us are the basis of the allegorical iJ1terprctation of Dante's Hell. \Ve recognize something of ourselves in the lost souls. But if we strain our imaginations to suppose that Francesca never at all thinks or feels differently, we see how vastly any 20 analogy we frame differs from what she experiences in their literal Hell. She is set in the state of her heart and mind; we, I trust, are not. For in us there resides conscience, and in her it is gone. The metamorphosis of Minos from the stern and noble legislator of tradition to a snarling demon, may be an image of the sinner's transformation of conscience from a reasonable guide to a hateful executioner. It is conscience above all which is the avenue of the good of the intellect to our souls, conscience which in its impregnable resistance to all outer and inner pressures proclaims its integrity, and in proclaiming that integrity, that liberty, proclaims that it is the voice of Another and not our own. Conscience, as its name implies, is a species of knowledge: it is knowledge shared with another. It is interior to ourselves; yet it commands our assent, try as we may to deny it. It is intimate, but it is no ·more in our po\ver to alter than the propositions of Euclid. Its presence in us declares that there is a judgement not of our own making by which good and evil are distinguished. It is the reflection in us of the eternal and original light. It is not merely the passing judgement we are obliged and willing to make on all sorts of persons and affairs; it is not shame, which can be induced by education and habit, or by pride and fear of the opinion of others. It is that awareness in ourselves that we are watched by a Judge whose judgement is infallible, the only Arbiter of good. At its best it is the knowledge that we are not alone, but have our place equally with all men in an all-embracing vision. As such it is the basis of our loving one another, and, I think, the only abiding one. To see men in the light of conscience is to see them all as ourselves, all sinners, all children of the Father, all worthy of love. There are no exclusions for conscience; it allows no ultimate privacy. It establishes an all-inclusive community, for in it all men are seen as brothers. In its harsher form, more familiar from ordinary speech, conscience is the arbiter of our guilt, a standard from which there is no appeal, a guide when we have fallen. But I would rather emphasize that by the light we gain from it, we give form to whatever is well-formed in what we do. It seems to me that while we acknowledge all that is pathetic in Paolo and Francesca, we must admit that they show no signs of conscience whatsoever. If that is so, it seems to me that they pass across a barrier through which our sympathy cannot reach: that barrier divides us forever, however pitiful it may be that human beings of such grace as theirs should have isolated themselves from all human affection. In revealing their lack of conscience, they reveal that they are dead, dead to what gives us life and hope, the possibility of learning and love. Let us return briefly to our opening theme, poetry and the imagination. My discussion has taken Dante's poem as an occasion for reflection on the questions of the life and the death of the soul, on love and human fellowship. I assume that such reflections may have their natural �July 1971 consequences in action. In making such a use of poetry I intend to share with Dante the understanding of poetry that dictated his choice of the poet Virgil as the proper guide on his way to the earthly paradis·e. Vlhy did he not choose Aristotle, "the master of those who know," as Dante calls him? Because poetry has powers of persuasion that Aristotle does not. Immediately before the beginning of the fifth canto, Dante and Virgil are met in Limbo by the souls of four great poets whose leader is Homer. TI1e poets lead them to the noble castle, where famous heroes and thinkers live, models of the active and contemplative Jives. Thus poetry is presented as a guide to .the best in life and Virgil as well as Dante rejoices when Dante is taken into that select company as a sixth among equals. Poetry at its best embodies reason at work and is one of the noblest of human activities, sharing and reflecting the light gained from the highest contemplation. The triumph of poetry, its special ordering in relation to moral and intellectual virtue, exalts Dante briefly. Yet he cannot think it worth very much to be even the best poet in Hell. Poetry is -dangerous. Its very powers of persuasion can be abused. Right after his encounter with the poets, we find Dante demanding to know from Francesca the occasion of their making the first step o·n the road to sin, when conscience was thrust aside by the discovery that their secret desires were shared and companionship in guilt made its seductive appeal over against the possibility of companionship in love. Her answer is that it was the day when they were reading together "for pastime." V,Tbether that step would have been taken without the book, no one can say. That the book was in fact the occasion Francesca makes perfectly plain in full detail. As she answers Dante we see how step by step each of them was encouraged by the book to commit himself to the relation which was so rich in sweet thoughts and full of desire in the beginning but which in the end led to the woeful pass. We read one day for pastime of Lancelot, how Jove constrained him; we were alone and had no misgiving. Many times that reading drove our eyes together and changed the color in our faces; but one point alone it was that mastered us. fatal step. All they did was to follow the book's example. When we read the longed-for smile was kissed by so great a lover, he who shall never be parted from me, all trembling kissed my mouth. It was the tale of the adultery of Lancelot, the famous lover and hero of poetry, which became the inspiration and sanction of the adultery of Francesca and Paolo. Can what seemed so magnificent in poetry be wrong in life? Of course it can, not only wrong, but sordid and bitter. Poetry is dangerous. It is easy for poetry to set a bad example and make the worse appear the better course. \Vhat else had Dante done himself, when he wrote his earlier love poetry? It is Dante himself who is the censor of that poetry. In Purgatory 'vhen Dante quotes 1 his own sonnet, Cato the Censor is angry with the spirits who delay the great work of life, which is to purify themselves, while they linger over the lovely occasion of passive delight as Casella sings of love in Dante's words. Here in Hell Dante is an even more severe judge of poetry and his own poems. Francesca speaks in the famous New Style which Dante helped to establish in his youth. It is the fonn in which Francesca naturally casts the account of the Jove which destroyed the life of her soul. She all but quotes another of Dante's sonnets. On his conscience as Dante hears her speak is the burden of having published poetry himself, whose theme and style nourished, if they did not directly inspire, the kind of Jove that Paolo and Francesca are condemned to act out forever. Francesca, in pronouncing her judgement on the author of the Tale of Lancelot, shows how great are the responsibilities of the poet. At the beginning of a poem which Dante plainly hopes will open the road to Heaven, it is his duty to show how poetry and a certain poem, even his own poems, may open the way to Hell. Robert S. Bart received a RA. degree from Har\'ard College in 1940 and a M.A. degree from St. John's College in 1957. From 1940 to 1941 he )Vas a Sheldon Traveling Fe11ow from Harvard University. He joined the faculty of St. John's in Annapolis in 1946. As Francesca recounts that solitary hour, she makes sweet poetry that dallies with the memory of its sweetness. But in her final words she passes a sentence of damnation on the author of that book as harsh as the one she had passed on Gianciotto her husband: A Galeotto, that is, A Pander was that book and he who wrote it. The poet must bear the guilt of what he wrought in providing the dear occasion of their making the first 21 �NEWS ON THE CAMPUSES ITEMS OF MUSICAL INTEREST The performance of music found new expression on the Annapolis campus this past year. First, a fifteenpiece chamber music orchestra, composed of Tutors and students, was established. Tutor David Stephenson was director, assisted by student directors Alan Plutzik ('71) and James Carlyle ('73). The orchestra hopes to become a permanent activity, rehearsing weekly during the academic year. In addition to the orchestra, concerts by student performers were started this year. Leslie Epstein ('74) and Tutor Douglas Allanbrook performed a concert for recorder and harpsichord on May 1st. A composition by Mr. Epstein was featured. On June 6th, Mark Schneider ('73) gave a piano concert. It is hoped that two or three student concerts can be scheduled each year. Also during this past year Mrs. E. Malcolm Wyatt (Martha Goldstein '61), Music Librarian, has been conducting an informal bureau of student performers. Through her auspices Annapolis Provost Paul D. Newland throws out the first ball of the Spring 1971 baseball season. Photo: Thomas Farran, Jr. :·;, ' • j • - • ,j\i,;;:. ~:~~~ ~~-f;. ·. i~~~fl - ,........ 22 ~'·r,:~~~-~. '- ",<:;;;>)';.....,...,# folksingers have entertained at homes in the area, and at least one very successful birthday party puppet show was performed. In. this way residents of the area are recipients of top-notch entertainment, while the students can earn some extra money. It should also be mentioned that there are at the College highly-qualified students who are anxious to teach music. Again, Mrs. Wyatt has information about these students, and will be available after the College reopens in September. EXHIBITS INCLUDE WoRK OF INDIAN ARTISTS AND AWARDWINNING SANTA FE PHOTOGRAPHER Exhibits in the St. John's Gallery in Santa Fe this spring included work by young artists of the Institute of American Indian Arts and awardwinning photographer Laura Gilpin. More than fifty students and former students of the IAIA participated in a Graphics show of prints and drawings from April lith to May 7th. The artists represented many tribes, from Nez Perce to Navajo. Miss Gilpin, who has been a photographer for sixty years, is best known for her photographs of the Southwest and Indians, which have been published in her books, including The Enduring Navaho. This year she received the first Fine Arts award of the Southwest Industrial Photographers Association, which described her as "a great lady who stands alone as a photographic documentarian of the American Indian." �July 1971 CAMPUS NoTES 1\lr. and l\lrs. Laurence Berns and daughter Anna Elena will spend Mr. Berns's sabbatical year in Cambridge, England, where he ·will be an Associate of Clare Hall at Cambridge University. Tutor Malcolm \Vyatt will assume Mr. Berns's duties as editor of The College magazine during the sabbatical leave. Treasurer Charles T. Elzey and Business Manager James E. Grant represented St. John's College in Annapolis at the annual meeting of the l\larvland Association of College Busic ness.Officers in Baltimore on May 13th. St. John's College was the recipient of a special award in the May Basket Contest sponsored by the Garden Club of Old Annapolis Towne, thanks to the efforts· of Miss Charlotte Fletcher, Librarian, and Mrs. LaNece Lvmonte, Admissions Office secretary. Their flowers adorned the front door of McDowell Hall. Tutor Harry L. Golding delivered a lecture entitled "\il/hat is a Liberal Arts Education?" at Shimer College, 1\ft. Carroll, Illinois, on March 24th. Annapolis Dean Robert A. Goldwin was the conference leader of the Public Affairs Conference Center at Kenyon College frcim April 29th to May 2nd for a conference on "Violence and Cid Disorder." The participants were several members of Congress, elected officials from state governments, law enforcement officers, private attorneys, psychiatrists, and academic people from several disciplines. Mr. Goldwin will present a paper at the American Political Science Association meeting in Chicago on September 8th for a panel on "Politics, Education, and Philosophy." Michael Ham, the new Director of Admissions in Annapolis, took a recruitment trip with the Capitol Region Colleges 'mel talked with high school coun~c1or.<:. in Connecticut, New York, and l\:cw Jersey. He states St. John's College's greatest force for becoming known "is through our students and olumni. l\lanr of the counselors }earned of us from students at St. John's who carried the word .back home." Tutor Bryce Jacobsen will teach February freshmen during the summer sesions in Annapolis. Santa Fe Tutor David Jones will be on sabbatical leave for 1971-72. John S. }(jeffer is Director of the Summer Program in Annapolis this year. . Tutor Aaron IGrschbaum and his wife will spend the summer in Copenhagen visiting former Tutor Brian McGuire. The Kirschbaums will be moving to Santa Fe where he will become a member of the southv.,,estern campus faculty. Annapolis Provost Paul D. Newland gave a speech before the Public Relations Society in New York City on March lOth. The organization includes the top fifty industrial public relations executives. Mr. Newland was the alumni luncheon speake>- in Annapolis on February 12th, and the alumni dinner speaker in \il/ashington, D. C., on May 23rd. Tutor John Sarkissian is teaching in the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education in Santa Fe this summer. STUDENT SERVES AS CANTOR Douglas Cotler, a Santa Fe summer senior, has been appointed Cantor of Temple Beth Shalom in Santa Fe. Cotler received his training from his father, who sings at the temple in Lafayette, California. Douglas Cotler studied in Israel in 1966-67 at the Institute for Youth Leaders from Abroad. SANTA FE TUTOR NAMED VICE PRESIDENT OF CALIFORNIA COLLEGE Thomas J. Slakey, a Tutor in Santa Fe ,:vii} become academic v1ce preslde~t of St. Mary's College of California during July. Mr. Slakcv graduated magm cum bode from ·the Christian Brothers's liberal arts college in 1952. l-Ie first joined the St. John's College faculty in Annapolis in 1959. He came to Santa Fe as one of the original group of faculty in 1964. Following his graduation from St. Mary's, Mr. Slakey attended Laval Universitv in Ouebec and earned his M.A. degree ;;; philosophy there in 1953. In 1960 he received his Ph.D. degree in philosophy from Cornell University. He V·/35 a teaching assistant at Cornell from 1955 to 1958. ZOLLARS CHOSEN PRESIDENTELECT OF CoLLEGE ADMISSIONS CoUNSELORS The Rocky 111ountain Association of College Admissions Counselors has chosen Gerald F. Zollars of Santa Fe ('65) as President-Elect of the sevenstate organization. One of Zollars's responsibilities will be to plan the association's 1972 annual conference at Albuquerque, New Mexico. He also is on the committee to arrange the National ACAC Conference in San Francisco this fall. MONITOR REPORTER TELLS OF EXPERIENCES AT ST. JOHN'S SUMMER GRADUATE INSTITUTE "Socrates and I went back to college together last summer and he was such a companionable fellow r think we'll do it again," is the way Jack \Vaugh began his article in the May 14th issue of The Christian Science Momtor. \Vauoh a writer for the Monitor, and his ;,ife Lynne attended the 1970 session of the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education held each summer at St. John's in Sania Fe. "I found myself in the section on philosophy and theology seated between an atheist from Balbmore and a theist from Gallup, and armed with the sinale rule laid out by example centuri:S aao by the ironic deflater himself, th~ admirable and kindly Socrates: Follow the argument whereever it leads." In the article \Vaugh commented on the difference between the form expressed in most classroom arguments and the dialectic dialogue which St. John's tutors and students practice or attempt to practice. 23 --- ----~-- �The College GRADUATKON·l971 Graduation 1971 on the Santa Fe campus of St. John's College was held on Sunday, June 6, and on the Annapolis campus on Sunday, June 13. A total of 71 students were graduated with Steven Michael Moser in Santa Fe and Holly Ann Carroll in Annapolis receiving the Silver Medal from the Board of Visitors and Governors. The medal is awarded to a senior on each campus who has achieved the highest standing. Six seniors graduated magna cum . laude; seven received degrees cum laude. Sheila Bobbs, Jonathan Lippitt Brewer, Paul Futra11 Bustion, Catherine North Carroll, Maya Narayan Contractor, Stuart Roy Deaner, Sally Lee Dunn, Paul Gordon Eitner, Ralph David Esdale, Amanda Skouras Fowler, Bonnie Louise Gage, Margaret Edith Jacobs, Laura Joyce Kelly, Vicky Manchester, Linda Norton, Gerald Pickard Peters III, Dennis Patrick Plummer, Donald Malden Stillwell, Dolores Ann Strickland, LJoyd Chockley \Vestbrook, Edward Bradley \Vhitney, and Leslie Kenneth \Vilson. Guest speaker in Santa Fe was Ivan Illich, Director of the Center For Inter-Cultural Documentation in Mexico. Stringfellow Barr, President of St. John's College in Annapolis from 1937 to 1946, addressed the Annapolis seniors. Other graduation week activities included a meeting of the Board in Santa Fe, class day exercises, baccalaureate, and a reception for graduates and guests at the home of President and Mrs. 'Neigle. Magna Cum Laude: Holly Ann Carroll, Jeremiah Andrew Collins, Richard Delahide Ferrier, Jeffrey Coleman Kitchen, Jr., and Rachel DuBose Sullivan; Cum Laude: Shire Joseph Chafkin, James Arthur Cockey, Andrew Alexander Fleming Garrison, and Judy Gail Kepner; Rite: Douglas Hathorn Bennett, Dennis Dean Berg, Marcia Jones Berg, Perry Jack Braunstein, Duncan MacRae Brown, \Villiam H. Buell III, Thomas Gridley Casey, 2nd, Diana Love Collins, Dennis John Dort, Thomas Leonard Dourmashkin, George Henry Elias, Jr., Marie Kathryn Erickson, Joanna May Fitzick, Robert Fenton Gary, Jay Alexander Gold, Jane Sarah Goldwin, James Kent Guida, James Ross Hill, Katherine Elisabeth Jackson, Diane Palley Joseph, Martha Jo Kaufman, Christopher Lee, Clifford Alan Martin, Ronny Stephen Millen, Jocelyn Lloyd Moroney, Alan Roth Plutzik, Lynn Carol Smith Pomerance, John Robert Scow, Barbara Sherman Simpson, Jeffrey Sonheim, James Stewart Spirer, Harold Samuel Stone, Leila Adams Straw, Daniel James Su1livan, Victor Michael Victoroff, and James Francis Villere, Jr. SANTA FE l\1agna Cum Laude: Gail Hartshorne; Cum Laude: Steven Michael Moser, James Fredrick Scott, and Donald Hugh \Vhitfield; Rite: 24 ANNAPOLIS �July 1971 'I I 25 �The College 4 5 1) Five seniors take a final look as students from the Peterson Student Center balcony in Santa Fe. 2) Santa Fe graduation ceremonies ring the Nina Garson Memorial Pool. 3) Annapolis senior Holly Ann Carroll receives her magna cum laude degree from President Richard D. Weigle and her hood from Provost Paul D. Newland. Miss Carroll also was awarded the silver medal from the Board of Visitors and Governors. 4) Steven Michael Moser graduates cum laude in Santa Fe. He received the silver medal from the Board, and the Margo Dawn Gerber Memorial Prize for writing the best senior essay. 5) Vice-President J. Burchenal Ault leads the procession from the Peterson Student Center to the Commencement site. 6) The center of attention is Gail Hartshorne, the only magna cum laude graduate in Santa Fe. Photo: Robert Nugent. 7) President Richard D. \Veigle listens to a graduation address. 8) Parents and guests applaud (and photograph) Ivan Illich, speaker in Santa Fe. 26 �July 1971 27 �The College COLLEGE CHAMBER ORCHESTRA PRESENTS CONCERT WITH GuEST PIANIST The St. John's College Chamber Orchestra and guest pianist, Mrs. John W. McHugh of Santa Fe, presented a concert at Santa Fe on April 14th. The performance included the first movement of the London Symphony by Haydn with Tutor Samuel E. Brown as guest conductor. Schubert's "Double Cello Quintet," first movement, was presented by five players from the orchestra, which is made up of students and local musicians. Mrs. McHugh was soloist for Beethoven's Piano Concerto in C Minor, first movement, with Tutor Richard Stark conducting the orchestra. NEW BOARD CHAIRMAN ELECTED J. I. Staley of Wichita Falls, Texas, will head the Board of Visitors and Governors of the College for the 197172 year. Mr. Staley was elected chairman at the recent meeting of the Board at the southwestern campus. He succeeds Mrs. Walter B. Driscoll of Santa Fe. The board also named Mrs. Duane L. Peterson of Baltimore, Maryland, as eastern vice chairman and former New Mexico Governor Jack M. Campbell of Santa Fe as western vice chairman. A St. John's College alumnus, Bernard Fleischmann, of New Jersey, was reelected secretary. Mr. Staley is the president of the . Staley Oil Company in Wichita Falls and O\:vns a ranch near Las Vegas, 1\Tew Mexico. · He has been interested in St. John's since 1940 when he read an article in Life magazine about the new great books program initiated on the Annapolis campus by Stringfellow Barr and Scott Buchanan. His interest was renewed when St. John's opened its Santa Fe campus in 1964. He served on the board from 1965 to 1970 and was reappointed at the same meeting he was elected chairman. l\-Ir. Stalev received his B.A. degree in sociology" from Stanford University 28 in 1935 and his D.J. degree from the University of Texas Law School in 1938. He has been on the Santa Fe Opera Board of Directors since its inception and is now its vice-chair- man. He is also a member of the Stanford Associates, the Texas Legal Foundation, the Wichita Falls Museum and Art Center, and the VV'ichita Falls Symphony Orchestra. New members elected to the Board of Visitors and Governors are: John S. Greenway, Tucson, Arizona; Jac Holzman, New York, New York; Mrs. Everett H. Jones, San Antonio, Texas; Mrs. Louise Trigg McKinney, Santa Fe, New Mexico; John Murchison, Dallas, Texas; and Mrs. Duane L. Peterson, Baltimore, Maryland. SANTA FE SENIORS SPONSOR BENEFIT SHOWING OF WAR AND PEACE; PRESENT GIFT To CoLLEGE The Santa Fe campus of St. John's College received a gift of $4,957 from the members of the Class of 1971. The gift includes $2,380 which the senior class raised through a showing of the six-hour Russian film version of Tolstoy's War and Peace. This amount was matched anonymously. About $88 was raised with a number of "15-minute parties" given by students on Wednesday evenmgs throughout the school year. The class stipulated the money should be used to diminish the principal of the debt owed by the College in Santa Fe to the endowment fund of the Annapolis campus. "VIe have two things in mind in wishing to give this amount toward the repayment of the Annapolis endowment debt," the statement accompanying the gift noted. '.'First perhaps, it can in a small way express our thanks to Annapolis for helping this campus to come about with its Own critical funds, not to mention the men and experience it gave. "Secondly, this gift is given in the hope of continuing and yet finer achievements, through books and· dis- cussions, by all members of the college." Representatives of the senior class made the presentation at the recent board meeting in Santa Fe. President Weigle and the board members expressed their appreciation of the gift and commended the students for their support of the College. PRESIDENT AND MRS. WEIGLE TRAVEL ON DANFORTH FouNDATION GRANT President and Mrs. Weigle enjoyed several weeks of travel on a grant from the Danforth Foundation during the first half of 1971. The grant was in conjunction with a Danforth program of short-term leaves for college and university administrators who have served with an educational institution for at least five years. During January and Febtuary the couple toured in South Africa, Rhodesia, Tanzania, and Kenya, stopping to visit universities in Johannesburg and Pretoria, and Rhodes University in Grahamstown. In the interior of Tanzania the Weigles visited Morogoro Teachers College. In addition to viewing Victoria Falls, they also spent time in the game reserves at Amboseli and visited the treetops in Kenya and the Kenya National Park at Nairobi. In March the Weigles joined eighty · other educators for a tour of Budapest, ·Bucharest, Moscow, Novosibirsk, and Warsaw. They visited secondary schools and universities in all centers and saw Academic Citv in Siberia, a concentration of research institutes and library facilities located 2,000 miles east of Moscow. In April and May Mr. Weigle was a Visiting Fellow at Clare College of Cambridge University in England. The couple stayed with Tutor Elliott Zuckerman who is currently a Fellow at the College. Mr. VV'eigle explored the early relationships between St. John's College in Cambridge and St. John's , College in Annapolis. During the last week of the trip to England the \~'eigles visited with Tutor Samuel Kutler and his wife who were on a sabbatical. �July 1971 NEW ADMISSIONS DIRECTOR IN ANNAPOLIS Annapolis Provost Paul D. Newland recently announced the appointment of Michael Vvilliam Ham as Director of Admissions of the Annapolis campus effective July 1st. Mr. Ham served as an assistant to Mr. James M. Tolbert, retiring Director of Admissions, in April, May, and June. Mr. Tolbert, at his request, has resumed full-time duties as a Tutor at the College. Following graduation cum laude from St. John's in 1961, Mr. Ham attended Dartmouth College on a teaching fellowship, and received his I\1.S. degree in mathematics from the ( Michael W. Ham University of Iowa in 1968. He taught mathematics at the Key School in Annapolis from 1965 to 1966, and assisted in planning the secondary school mathematics curriculum there. Mr. Ham was Coordinator of Data Processing for the American College Testing Program in Iowa from 1967 to 1969 when he joined the Westinghouse Learning Corporation as a system analyst in Project PLAN's Computer Systems group. He was Manager of PLAN Systems Analysis and Programming at the time he left. Mr. Ham is married to the former Mary Lou Ryce, also a St. John's College graduate, and they have three children, Cecelia, Greta, and Ethan. ALUMNI· ACTIVITIES WELCOME ABOARD Both as an alumnus of St. John's and as president of the Alumni Association, let rne welcome the Class of 1971, and the members of earlier classes who graduated last month, to the ranks 9f the Alumni of St. John's College. We are pleased and proud to have you join us, and hope that you will want to participate actively in the life of the Association. There are a number of ways in which \'OU can be an active alumnus, but th~v all require some sort of invoh·ement. It may be as simple as participating in meetings of local alumni groups, or it may be as complex as organizing a telephone session as part of the annual giving campaign. It certainly means attending Homecoming when you can, and voting in the various and sundry elections as they occur. It could also mean serving as a volunteer in the Admissions ASsistance or Career Counselling programs which the Association sponsors. And it also means supporting the College with such financial help as you can afford. In whatever ways you choose, be a part of the Association, the organization through which alumni participate in thelife of the College. As an alumnus, you \Vil1 ahvays be a member of the St. John's community: Exercise your membership. Again, a hearty welcome to each of vou, and the best of luck in your aftercollege life. ' WILLIAM R. TILLES '59 ASSOCIATION ACTIVITIES Board of Visitors and Governors: Philip I. Bowman '31 and W. Bernard Fleischmann '50 were elected to second consecutive terms on the Board of Visitors and Governors in May. An election, conducted by mail, was neces~ sitated when Steven Shore SF '68 was nominated by petition. This springtime election was the first under the prO\·isions of the new College Polity and Association By-Laws. News-sheet: The Association directors have started an informal news-sheet to supplement material which appears on 29 �The College sessions will be continued next year, and ways are being sought" for the Service to function more actively as a job placement center. Suggestions would be most welcome. CHAPTER NEWS Annapolis: On May 14th T. Herbert Taylor '44 assumed chairmanship of the chapter, replacing Frank B. Marshall '45. The local group plans to continue the monthly luncheons next year, but would like to have an occasional night-time or week-end activity. This would permit attendance of local alumni who cannot attend luncheons. New York: The New York group held a meeting on Tuesday, May 25th, with Jacob Klein as guest speaker. l'vlr. Klein conducted an informal seminar on ~Ia to. /Washington: Under the co-leadership DaYid F. Crowley, Jr., '28, v.ras one of the 27 alumni volunteers who helped with the Baltimor~/" of Ca.ro] (~hillips) Ti!les ,:59 and telethon -during this year's Alumni Annual Giving Campaign. Telephone appeals were also made Cynthza (S1ehler) Wh1te 66, the in Annapolis and Vilashington, D. C. Gifts in response to the calls amounted to almost $5,000. chapter he1d a dinner meeting on May 23rd. Annapolis Provost Paul D. Newthese pages. Scheduled for publication inquiries to certain alumni for follow- land was guest of honor and principal four times a year, the News will alter- up and possible interview. (If you were speaker. nate with issues of this magazine. The a volunteer for this program and have directors anticipate that this plan will not had names sent you, there simply AWARD OF MERIT permit more timely communication have been few if any inquiries from The Alumni Award of Merit, first with all alumni about Association ac- your area.) Thanks to the efforts of Temple G. presented in 1950,_ may be awarded tivities. Porter '62 and a committee of other annually at the discretion of the Board Programs: directors, alumni help with admissions of Directors of the Alumni AssociaDuring the coming year the Associa- work is about to enter a new phase. A tion. In June, 1970, the directors voted tion will concentrate its efforts to help kit for volunteers, developed by Mr. to increase the number of Awards from the College on three principal areas: Porter with the cooperation of both one to not more than three annually. the Counselling and Placement Service, Directors of Admissions, will be made The Award is made to an alumthe Admissions Assistance Program, available during the summer to alumni nus for "distinguished and meritorious volunteers. Designed to help alumni sen•ice to the United States or to his and fund raising. · Fund raising is an increasingly im- seek out and interview prospective stu- native state or to St. John's College, or portant fact of life for St. John's as dents, the kit has been acclaimed by for outstanding achievement within his for other colleges. Alumni involvement, officers of the College. It should prove chosen field." both as workers and as givers, will be invaluable to alumni as they become Association President \Villiam· R. more critical than ever over the next more deeply involved in finding able Tilles asks that confidential letters of nomination be sent to him no later several years. If the performance of the students for both campuses. past fe\v years is maintained, however, Plans are nm:v being dra\vn up for than August 15th. Each letter should there will be no lack of alumni support the Counselling and Placement Service. contain sufficient information about for the College. In the past year there were three main the nominee to permit thorough evaluA program to help the Admissions counselling sessions held, on graduate ation by the Board of Directors. Letters officers on both campuses has been in schools, on law, and on careers in busi- should be sent to l\-1r. Tilles, c/o operation since early 1968. To date ness and governm-ent, but little \:vas Alumni Office, St. John's College, Anit has consisted primarily ·of referring done in the way of placement. Similar napolis, Maryland 21404. 30 �July 1971 REUNIONS ANNIVERSARY HoMECOMING This is the vear in which the classes ~While the Alumni Association really of 1911, 1921; 1931, 1941, 1946, 1951, does not trace its origins back to King 1961, and 1966 should be planning William's School, St. John's College some sort of special get-together for certainly does. For that reason, the Homecoming. Those are the special re- College this year will celebrate the union classes, those who ar·e passing 275th anniversary of the founding of another milestone, whether it be the the School. 5th or the 60th anniversary of the • As you can read elsewhere in this graduation of the class. The Alumni issue, the celebration of the big event Office will help in whatever way it can: will take place in the fall, starting on lists of classmates, reservations at October 12th, and terminating on motels or hotels, special tables at the Homecoming Day, October 16th. V-le dinner. \Ve want to help you have a encourage all alumni to attend as good time; please give us a chance. man\· of the activities during th2t CLASS NOTES 1900 Louis Baer, who must be our oldest living alumnus, celebrated his 92nd birthday on May 29th. countrY to be fitted witb a dorsal column stimulator (DCS). The DCS, implanted under the skin, relays radios impulses from a special transmitter controlled by b.Ir. Dulin; the impulses set up interference which cancels pain signals moving to the brain. 1907 A nice note from Mrs. E. S. Bushong of 1933 In }.-larch William A. Ziegler retired from Boonsboro, Maryland, informs us that her - Bethlehem Steel's Sparrows Point plant. An father, the Rev. \VaJter B . .McKinley, celeAll-American lacrosse player as well as football brated his 90th birthday this past spring. Alend and basketball center at St. John's, Mr. though emphysema prevents his walking, he is Ziegler was General Foreman, Plate and Flange "otherwise in good shape," to quote Mrs. BusMills, upon his retirement. hong. Our congratulations to Mr. McKinley. 1912 We hear through Philip L. Alger of Spencer D. Hopkins, now fourteen years retired from the General Motors Corporation, where he worked for forty years. Mr. Hopkins keeps busy helping manage a home for the aged and helping run a club for retired GM executives. He makes his home in Bloomfield Hills, lv1ichigan. 1922 William R. Horne}', a member of the SATC unit at St. John's in 1918, and a retired judge of the Maryland State Court of Appeals, was ordained a deacon of the Episcopal Church on January 16, 197L Mr. Horney serves as assistant to the rector of St. Paul's Church in Centreville, Maryland. 1928 Louis L. Snyder, professor of history at the City College of the City University of New York, deli\·ered the first talk in the current "Ideas" series for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation on April 12th. Professor Snyder's subject for the CBC network was "The Ideas of Nation and 1\'ntionalism." 1931 \\'ilbur R. Dulin, an Annapolis attomcy and former State Senator, helped make medical hislory recently. After suffering \\'ith spinal pain for SC\'eral years following a cancer operation, Y\-Ir. Dulin became the forty-first pers9n in this ~/alter 1935 F. Evers informs us that Joseph Novey lost his wife last falL We join Mr. Novey's classmates in sending belated condolences. 1938 Jack D. EngJar, former vice president of plant operations for McCormick & Co., Inc., and more recently manager of economic development of the Greater Baltimore Chamber of Commerce, in March was named vice president and general manager of the technologies division of Tate Industries. 1939 On July lst Frank A. \\lhite, Jr., was promoted to vice president at Pennsylvania Mutual Life Insurance Company. 1943 On the night of January 1-2, 1971, the hopes and dreams of the Bay Country School and of its founder and headmaster, Ogden Kellogg-Smith, disappeared in $70,000 worth of smoke and flame. The school'S first building, literal]\· built bv the brawn and sweat of stu· dents,· parents,· and faculty 0\'er the preyious eighteen months, was cle~troyed by a fire of unknown origin. Founded in 1962, the School has ~crved a unique and useful purpose in Anne .-\rundel County by offering an opportunity to the student who did not fit the com·entioml mold. :No\\' the School faces the gigantic task. period as they can; we believe you will find them stimulating and very worthwhile. Details of Homecoming itself will be published later in the summer, although a few events are now in place. Alumni seminars will probably be held on Saturday morning, the Annual Meeting following luncheon, and the annual reception and dinner in the late afternoon and night, respectively. IVIake your plans now to join us, at least for the 16th, and better yet, for three or four days. \Ve think you will enjoy the experience. of replacing its loss. Any of Mr. Kellogg-Smith's former classmates or other friends who wish to help should address iv1r. Robert Jenkins, Bay Country School, Arnold, :tvid. 21012. This was an auspicious spring for the H. \Villard Stern family: in April Mr. Stern and his wife had a son, Darrell David, and one month later, Mr. Stern received his Ph.D. degree from Rutgers, T11e State University. His dissertation \\'as entitled: "A Philosophical Analysis of the Use of 'Comprehension' In An Educational Context.'' 1944 Carl S. Hammen was promoted to professor of zoology at the University of Rhode Island on July lst. Mr. Hammen holds master's degrees from Columbia University and the University of Chicago, and a Ph.D. degree from Duke University. In March James \V. Poe, Jr. received the \Vriters Guild 1971 Laurel Award, symbolizing the writer "who has ad\·anced literature of the motion picture through the vears." Several years ago Mr. Poe won an Acade-my Award for his movie screenplay "Around the \Vorld in SO Days." He is the father of Lorna Poe '67. 1945 John L. Lincoln's son Jack '74 politely called our attention to a misplaced item in the April issue. It should have been in the 1945 Notes instead of those for 1950: it was Jack's uncle, C. Ran/et Lincoln, who was in the class of 1950, not his father. Apologies to all the Lincolns. 1950 Dean Robert A. Gold\\'in l1ad a special interest in the commencement exercises this year, since his daughter, Jane, \\'as a member of the graduating class. Miss Goldwin \\'ill go to London for a year, and has been accepted in a ~laster of :\rts in teaching program at Goucher College for the follo\\'ing year. James H. Riggs \Hites to J\fiss 1\Jiriam Str;mge that he will be entering the study of psychology this coming fall at \Vest Georgia College, Carrollton, Georgia. 31 �The College 1953 H:we you ever wanted to chuck everything and get away from it all? Singer Glenn R. Yarbrough has apparently decided to do just that at the end of this year. Last February he announced that he will abandon his musical career and head to sea in his sailboat, Jubilee. "'ith his wife, Anne, and their small daughter, Holly, Mr. Yarbrough will cruise the world for five years or more, to "read and think and travel ... as an ordinary person." 1956 The Reverend J. Donald Libby has been rector of Christ Church, I.U. Parish, near Lynch, Maryland, and rector of North Sassafras Parish in lower Cecil County, since May 1st. Before mm·ing to the Eastern Shore, Re\'. Libby was rector of Severn Parish, near CrownsYille. 1l1c Libbvs and their three children make their hom~ in Earleville. ]. Jay W'ase, since January a senior assistant State's Attorney for Baltimore City, is the author of "The Federal Gun Laws and You," published this past May. 1960 Richard S. Dohanian, who married the former Linda Powell in April, 1970, is now a restaurant owner in South Newbury, N.H. 1961 l\1ichael C. Haley since February has been specializing in the sale of commercial and investment real estate with an Albuquerque, New Mexico, firm. Mr. Haley and his wife, the former Linda Levitt '64, have lived in Albuquerque for several years. MicllaeJ W. Ham ·joined the staff of the College on April 19th as an Admissions Officer, and on July 1st he· replaced James M. Tolbert as Director of Admissions in Annapolis. (See article elsewhere in this issue.} Theodore B. C. Stincllecum, now performing professionally as Theo Barnes, toured with the Broadway T11eater of Northeastern Pennsylvania this past winter in the title role in "Hadrian VII." March 24, 19il, in Beirut, Lebanon. Mr. 1l1omas is with· the USIA. 1964 Stephen Fineberg writes that he is now at Stanford University working on a dissertation, "though officially still a Texan." Sara (Hobart) Homeyer and husband Charles recently announced that their son Peter has been joined by an adopted sister, Martha Jean, who became a Homeyer on April 26th. Our congratulations to th_e new parents. Neal 0. \\Ieiner now holds the rank of professor at Marlboro College in Vermont. 1965 The Har\'ard-Radcliffe Chapter of Sigma Xi has announced the advancement of Bruce Collier from associ<Jte member to member. Sigma Xi is an honorary organization for the encouragement of scientific research. Carlos Pereira is now Director de la Escuela de Cursos B:isicos del Nucleo de Bolivar, Universidad de Oriente, Cuidad Boli\'ar, Venezuela. The school, organized by Sr. Pereira, has 36 teachers and- 700 students, and offers the first two years of college. During those two years the students are selected to enter the different fields of study offered by the University. 1966 For the past year Dr. Jonathan D. Korshin has been senring his medical internship in Tucson at the three hospitals affiliated v.~th the University of Arizona School of l\Jedicine. Dr. Korshin received his medical degree in May, 1970, at Dov.rnstate Medical School, State University of New York. According to information received during the spring, he e>..rpected to move back to the East Coast in July, 1971. 1967 David C. Dickey was selected in May as the Republican nominee for commonwealth's attorney for Greene County, Virginia. Mr. Dickey has been practicing law in Stanardsville since his graduation from the University of Virginia law school in June, 1970. 1962 Judith (Levine) Gerberg writes that she is on the National Committee of the Professional \Vomen's Caucus. The letter which she sent explains that "P\VC is a national organization of professional persons in all fields working for a social environment that stresses the full development of human potential before sex role stereotypes.'' John F. l\-1iller \\'as one of 24 museologists and graduate students who attended the thirteenth annual Seminar for Historical Administrators in \Villiamsburg, Virginia, last month. T\·1r. \filler is a candiclate for an !\LA. degree in .\rchitectural 1-:Ii~tory/Art History at the Uni\'trsity of l\'faryland. 1963 Mr. and Mrs. Robert K. Tllomas are the proud parents of l\'Iiss Rebecca Marie, born 32 Congratulations and a- large vote of appreciation are due Arthur Kungle, Jr., and a large crew of volunteers whom he recruited, for the outstanding job they have done in beautifying the Annapolis campus. Gardens of annual flowers, a large bed of rose bushes, and many small trees on the back campus are the results of their labors. T11eir efforts have given us an even more beautiful setting in which to work. 1968 A letter from Bettina Briggs (SF) this spring re\·eals that she expected to receive her J.D. degree in June from Boston University_ After that she will "tackle the Massachusetts Bar Examinations," in order to join the law office of Benjamin A. Friedman in Taunton. \Vhile at the University, Miss Briggs has worked on the staff of Cambridge Legal Services, helping impo\'erished clients, and with the Long Range Planning Department of Tufts-New England Medical Center. In this latter position she was particularly concerned with the inadequacy of existing mass transit systems for the handicapped and elderly. The Army·s loss apparently \\~ll be the legal profession's gain, as Keith C. Covington has completed his military service and plans to enter law school in the fall. Elizabeth Dobbs writes that she finished work in April on her master's degree in the English Dcparbnent of the State Uni\'ersil:y of New York at Buffalo. She will be starting soon on her dissertation on medie\'al English. In May Jinna (MacLaurin) Rie received her M.Ed. degree from Goucher College in Baltimore. In March there were sergeant's stripes for Jonathan Zavin as he graduated from the NonCommissioned Officer Candidate School at Ft. Benning, Georgia. Sgt. Zavin was Selected for the course under a specialized program that grants rapid promotions to outstanding individuals. 1969 Linda E. Davenport has been teaching school this past year in Chester, Vermont. In Memoriam .-1906-Richard H. Hodgson, Salisbury, Md., yJ-433-Stanley R. Mitchell, Guilford, Conn., M.,ch 7, 1971. August 17, 1970. /1908-J. Graham Shannahan, Sr., Balti- \/1936-John ,;v_ Sullivan, Millington, Md., more, Md., June 2, 1971. .. . May 13, 1971. /1913-Robert A. Tennant, Oakland, Cal., !)9-37-J. Trenholm Hopkins, Charleston, . May 7, 1971. S.C., February 2, 1971. v-1917-----.:.R. .. Hammond Elliott, Md., May 3, 1971. './1920-Robert E. Coughlan, Jr., Annapolis,.,..- 1938-Lee N. Baker, Pikesville, Md., April 10, 1971. Baltimore, Md., March 5, 1971. ;'1923-Dougbs R. Bowie, ·1938-John \V. Cook, Frostburg, Md., /. August Jl, 1970. Cumberland, /1938-Peter T. Simmons, Portsmouth, Md., 1969. ,).928-Samuel T. Jones, Prince Frederick, ' . Md., May 16, 1971. 1943-Richard S. Spencer, Jr., Baltimore, \.-1930-Ferdinand 1970-Mitchel A. Green (SF), Februal)' Fader, South N.J., April 20, 1971. Orange, N.H., March II, 1971. Md., January 28, 1971. 23, 1971. �275th . ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION Calendar of Events Tuesday, October 12 Concert: Juilliard String Quartet Wednesday, October 13 Seminar on Plato's Meno Panel: Literature and Language Thursday, October 14 Panel: Politics and Society St. John's College Regular Seminars Friday, October 15 Panel: Mathematics and Science Tutor Jacob Klein: The St. John's College Seminar Tutor Douglas Allanbrook: Harpsichord Concert Alumni Receptions Saturday, October 16 Meeting of the Board of Visitors and Governors Alumni Seminars Aliu:nni Business Meeting Academic Convocation Guest Speaker: Dr. Martin Meyerson, President The University of Pennsylvania Alumni Reception for Faculty and Seniors Alumni Dinner and Presentation of A ward of Merit �275th Anniversary Celebration October 12 -16, 1971 Annapolis See Inside Back Cover for Calendar of Events The College St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland 21404 Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The College </em>(1969-1981) Description An account of the resource St. John's College's Office of the Dean published <em>The College</em> from 1969 to 1981. The publication superseded <em><a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/37" title="The Bulletin of St. John's College">The Bulletin of St. John's College</a></em>.  <em>The College</em> was in turn continued by <a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/13" title="The St. John's Review"><em>The St. John's Review</em></a> in 1981.  <br /><br />A separate magazine for St. John's alumni titled <em>The College </em>began publication in 2001, continuing <em>The St. John's Reporter</em>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The College" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=12">Items in the The College Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource 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 Santa Fe, NM Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thecollegemagazine 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. 32 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Development Offices of St. John's College Title A name given to the resource The College, July 1971 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1971-07 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Berns, Laurence Wyatt, Malcolm Felter, Mary P. Parran, Jr., Thomas Trimmer, Maurice Description An account of the resource Volume XXIII, Number 2 of The College. Published in July 1971. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context The_College_Vol_23_No_2_1971 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 The College https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/9c778c269b8442bd948db213e9a4e155.pdf 2c1306d437fb1e26230d0721e76dbebd PDF Text Text �The College Cover: Thomas Jefferson, from a bust by Tean Antoine Houdon. Inside Front Cover: McDowell Hall, Annapolis, sketch by Daniel Sullivan, Class of 1971. The College is a publication for friends of St. John's College and for those who might become friends of the College, if they came to know it. Our aim is to indicate, within the limitations of the magazine form, why, in our opinion, St. John's comes closer than any other college in the nation to being what a college should be. If ever well-placed beacon lights were needed by American education it is now. By publishing articles about the work of the College, articles reflecting the distinctive life of the mind that is the College, we hope to add a watt or two to the beacon light that is St. John's. Acting Editor: Malcolm Wyatt Managing Editor: Mary P. Felter Alumni Editor: Thomas Parran, Jr. Editorial Assistant: Maurice Trimmer The College is published by the Development Offices of St. John's College, College Avenue, Annapolis, Maryland 21404 (Julius Rosenberg, Director), and Santa Fe, New Mexico (J. Burchenal Ault, Vice President); Member, American Alumni Council. President, St. John's College, Richard ·D. Weigle. Published four times a year in April, July, October, and December. Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. In the December Issue: • 1 How Praise A World That May Not Last, by Niark Van Doren • Discussion As A Means Of Teaching And Learning, by Jacob Klein 3 On The Study Of Politics In A Liberal Education, by Martin Diamond 6 News on the Campuses Vol. XXIII December 1971 No.4 ll Alumni Activities 17 �Discussion As A Means Of Teaching And Learning* By JACOB KLEIN W.AT follows is a description of a St. John's Seminar. A book or a part of it is to be discussed; about twenty students (usually fewer and seldom more) sit around a table, and two tutors have to act as moderators of the discussion. The students are supposed to have read the book or the assigned part of it before coming to the seminar. Some have done that well and thoroughly, some not well and superficially; it may even happen that a student has not read the book at all. One of the tutors begins the discussion by raising a question, directly related to what is said in the book. Sometimes a silence ensues before a student chooses to answer the question; sometimes the answer follows the question immediately. This answer may provoke a comment or a refutation or a new question coming from students or tutors. Thus an exchange of opinions develops, which can be animated, even heated, or calm and slow. Quite a few students participate in this exchange, while some remain silent. What happens while this exchange goes on? Many things. What the book is about may be clarified to some extent. How its content is connected with the content of other books may be discovered, weighed or subtly suggested. But more important things do occur. A student might find his most cherished thought elucidated or his *Paper prepared for the 275th Anniversary Colloquium at St. John's College in Annapolis, Friday, October 15, 1971. most burdensome question answered in the book, and this gives him the opportunity to bring about a discussion of this favorite theme of his, which turns the seminar away from the book altogether. And yet, what is then being discussed may be something more fundamental for the understanding of one's world and one's life. Or, on the contrary, a student may see for the first time that something he had always accepted is actually highly doubtful. A sentence, even a single word, uttered by one of the participants in the discussion, may open to him a new vista, may challenge his deepest convictions, may aggravate the awareness of his ignorance. It is thus that learning takes place, not in the sense that the students are being "informed" about opinions and doctrines uttered in the books, about events and facts mentioned in them, about plots and stories presented and narrated. What is achieved is rather an expansion of the intellectual horizon, a fostering of understanding, a demo~ ]ilion of false assumptions. This may not happen at all in any one seminar or even in a series of s-eminars; but it is likely to happen after a while, which means that only a steady continuation of the seminars through a lengthy period of time makes the seminar exercises fruitful and beneficial. fundamental rules determine the discussion. As the College catalogue puts it: "every opinion must be heard and explored, however sharp the clash of opinions I �The College may be," and "every opinion must be supported by argument-an unsupported opinion does not count." But it is not possible to avoid empty or even frivolous talk altogether. Serious arguments may degenerate into repetitious and shallow assertions. It is the task of the moderators, the seminar leaders, to turn the discussion back to its meaningful origin. They are not always able to do that because even wasteful and extravagent claims might contain points that fascinate the students' imagination and stimulate their urge to refute and to explore. Even then learning may take place. Very rarely is a question fully answered and the answer approved by all present. The main purpose of the seminar is not to find final solutions of perennial problems, but to become aware of a range of possible answers. Nor is it the purpose of the seminar to interpret the content of a book once and for all. Be it Homer or Virgil or Dante or Shakespeare, be it Plato or Aristotle or Descartes or Kant, be it Thucydides or Augustine or Hegel, be it any other author, none of the students and tutors is expected to "master" any one of their works, but everyone is expected to discover the diversity of possible interpretations that these works give rise to and the depth of the task that understanding them presents. Some troublesome aspects of the seminar have to be mentioned. There is too much to read, and the riches of the books are overwhelming. The habits of the students, as far as reading, listening, and arguing are concerned, vary to a very great extent. This can make the discussion uneasy or turbulent or even explosive. It is, at any rate, always unpredictable, as indeed it should be. But there is always the possibility that some spoken word-or some word withheld-may provoke a student with an insight of a penetrating nature, not necessarily related to the book or topic under discussion. The occurrence of learning itself is indeed unpredictable. 0 NE indispensable-although not' always sufficient -condition must prevail for learning to occur. It is the effort on the part of students, a continuous effort, to find answers to the questions raised. The answer to the question what learning itself is, is not a "theory of knowledge," a so-called "epistemology," but the very effort to learn. That is why in Plato's Meno Socrates keeps exhorting Meno and the yonng slave to "make an attempt" to answer. And that is why, in Plato's Republic (376B), Glaucon has to agree with Socrates that the "love of learning" (Til <{nAol'a8i,) and the "love of wisdom (To rf.HA6aorf>ov) are the same. This "love of learning/' which leads to the effort to learn, may not result in actual learning-it may indeed be insufficient, just as the "love of wisdom" may not result ln obtaining wisdom and knowl- edge. The pursuit of understanding and of knowledge in 2 the seminar is clouded by this uncertainty and unpredictability. But at some point of the discussion some understanding may be gained by some student or students, and this understanding may then evolve further and further. Let us also bear in mind that this point may never be reached. In what then does teaching consist in a St. John's seminar? Certainly not in the "pouring" of knowledge into the learner's soul, just as learning does not consist in listening and repeating what one has heard. It is hard for any tutor to resist the temptation to present his own opinions about the content of a book or about the hidden meaning of a phrase. Sometimes such a presentation may even be fruitful because it can provoke counter-argument and far-reaching discussion. Above all, however, the seminar leaders have to solicit the opinions of the students, to try to keep the discussion within the limits of the subject argued about, which is not at all easy, and to let the students participate as much as possible in the debate. Not seldom some students remain altogether silent, and it may become important to the tutors to understand the nature of this silence by talking to these students outside of the seminar. Conv.ersations between tutor and student outside of the seminar are, of course, generally most desirable and helpful. the "silent" students, their silence can ultimately be attributed to two very different causes. One is a lack of interest which implies the absence of that effort to learn, on which so much depends. If this attitude of the student persists and cannot be broken, it is not likely that the student will continue to be a student. The other cause is a deep and complex involvement in what is read and said, so deep and complex, in fact, that the student cannot afford to take a stand and to open his mouth, because he would have to say too many things at once. This student listens attentively, and his inside effort to clear his thoughts, by separating what does not belong together and by combining what does, may lead him to learn a great deal. Here again it is not possible to predict whether this learning will occur. But when it docs, it is bountiful and precious. Jacob Klein has been a Tutor at St. John's College since 1938. He was Dean of the College from 1949 to 1958. Born in Russia, Dean Klein studied philosophy, mathematics, and physics in Berlin and Marburg, Germany, where he received his Ph.D. degree, Before leaving Germany in 1937 he completed Greek Matllcmatica1 Thought and the Origin of Algebra (translated from the German by Eva Brann, Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 1968). His Commentary on Plato's Meno was published by the University of North Carolina Press in 1965; his "Introduction to Aristotle" may be found in Ancients and Moderns (Basic Books, 1964). He has lectured on "Ptolemy and Copernicus," "Leibniz," "The Nature of Nature," "On Precision," and others. �How Praise A World That May Not Las( By MARK VAN DOREN Governor King, President Weigle, members and friends of this College, I consider it a great honor to have been asked to speak on the occasion of the 275th anniversary of the College. Two-hundred-and-seventy-five years is a long time to survive. St. John's College more than survives, it flourishes. That I think is all that needs to be said about the College as of this moment; it flourishes and the evidence is everywhere. When I was asked by Dean Darkey to come today and address you, I wrote him as an old friend as well as a dean whom I respected and asked him if he had any suggestions about what I should talk about. Being a true dean, he answered my question s·criously. He didn't say, "oh, anything you like." He said, "I've often heard you talk about the act and the art of praise. I think I agree with you," he said, "that praise is the noblest act of man, and if you have anything that you want to praise, or any person you want to praise, this might be a time to do it." I said yes, of course, I would come and talk about praise. And I would even do some praising. I would praise everything and everybody. I would have the nerve to praise the world. For the world we live in must be praised; or its maker must, for it is he that we praise when we are s·erious. The greatest of all songs arc the Psalms, which are songs of praise. The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork. * Speech given at "A Summer Celebration" at St. John's College, Santa Fe, New Mexico, on Sunday, August 8, 1971. They are songs in praise of things-of stars, mountains, trees-but only as these things testify to the power and beauty of their creator's mind, than which there is nothing more lovable or fearful in the universe we think we know. It is the presence among us of this mind that causes us to tremble, now in terror, now with joy. The Psalmist cried over and over: Praise ye the Lord, and never tired of doing so, as witness the song he numbered 148, which still was not the last one that he sang: Praise ye the Lord. Praise the Lord from the heavens: praise him in the heights. Praise ye him, all his angels; praise ye him, all his hosts. Praise ye him, sun and moon; praise him, all ye stars of light. Praise him, ye heavens of heavens, and ye waters that be above the heavens. Let them praise the name of the Lord; for he commanded, and they were created. He hath also sta blislied them for ever and ever; he hath made a decree which shall not pass. Praise the Lord from the earth, ye dragons, and all deeps; Fire, and hail; snow, and vapour; stormy wind fulfilling his word; Mountains, and all hills; fruitful trees, and all cedars; Beasts, and all cattle; creeping things, and flying fowl; Kings of the earth, and all people; princes and all judges of the earth; Both young men, and maidens; old men, and children; 3 �The College Let them praise the name of the Lord; for his name alone is excellent; his glory is above the earth and heaven. Praise ye the Lord. The things he made, the Psalmist sings, he made for ever and ever. The world he fashioned was, is, and will be a world without end. Unthinkable that it should cease. Not only the power and beauty of the Lord, but his lastingness-perhaps that was his most stunning attribute, since it assured us that the world we walk on is lasting too. We shall not last, for we are grass, we wither and blow away; but the world itself-how can that ever be a thing, a place, that is not? For centuries, for millenniums, we did not ask this question; or if we did, we thought we knew the answer. We kept on praising as best we could the universe and him who made it. Our poetry when it was serious had no other subject, though often enough the subject was not named as I am naming it now. It had its variations, its disguises; truth at times delights in indirection and even dares at special moments to be difficult. Yet there was never a time when we knew how to imagine the world's coming to an end-literally that, with no trace of it left anywhere. Whereas we now are haunted by this thought; as I was, for example, a few years ago when I wrote a poem called So Fair a World It Was: So fair a world it was, So far away in the dark, the dark, Yet lighted, oh, so well, so well: Water and land, So clear, so sweet; So fair, it should have been forever. And would have been, and would have been, If-what? Be still. But what? Keep quiet, child. So fair it was, The memory is like a death That dies again; that dies again. The dialogue may be understood as taking place between two intelligences so far removed from Earth that the rumor of its extinction comes faintly yet clearly, as echoes travel; but those intelligences are near enough to have witnessed the beauty that is gone. The suggestion is of physical catastrophe; nothing less than the total disappearance of a planet. The fear does not always take this form. It is more likely to be the fear that life and thought will cease, so that no mind will exist to know the world that still is there-an equivalent catastrophe, perhaps, but at least a different one, though in fact it might be the more ghastly of the two. The strange thing is that at the same time with this poem, or very near the same time, I was writing a psahn of my own which contained no hint of catastrophe. 4 Praise Orion and the Great Bear, Praise icy Sirius so burning blue, Praise the slow dawn, but then the razor rim Of sun that in another hour Cannot be looked at lest it blind you; praise Mountain tops, praise valleys, praise the silver Streams that circle to\vns; praise people's houses; Praise sitting cats that wait for doors to open; Praise running dogs; praise women, men; Praise little boys who think their fathers perfect; Praise fathers who believe their Father perfect; Praise him because he is, because he has His being where no eye, no car can follow, No mind say whence or whither, Yet he is, and nothing else is Save as witness to his wonder, Save as hungering to praise himLet all things, then, great or little, Praise him, praise him Without end. How explain this inconsistency in me, except by saying that it is in others too: in all of us, no matter who we are or what we think we know? Or am I correct in saying all of us? Quite possibly the young are altogether singleminded here: the young, whose generation is the first one born into a world that wonders whether it will endure. Earlier generations had no such problem. Their members knew that the world was here to stay-nothing more simple, nothing more certain. Regardless of what they felt or did, the earth and the heavens above it would survive them. To the extent that no one can wholly believe this any more, those of us who can remember having believed it once are likely to find our minds curiously mixed: at one moment yes, at another no. But with the young this may not be true; and so their minds are single; they do not look ahead because there is nothing to see, and they do not look behind because only ruins-ghosts of worlds-are there; they look at the present moment, and have their own secret way of penetrating its mysteries, which seem to be for them alone. If, however, we are mixed of mind we oscillate between belief and despair: more often than not, I suspect, believing as we did before that the foundations of being are somehow firm. And better yet, bound to remain so. For there is something in the mind that cannot be satisfied with less than the prospect of infinite duration, whether it be of life, or the earth, or the stars, or simply everything. Let me confess at any rate that this is true for me. I hear that the earth is six billion years old, and that is not enough for me. I hear that it has a few billion years ahead of it, and I shudder at the thought that they are not innumerable. There was a queer cornfort for me in a chance remark I once heard Harlow Shapley make-a parenthetical remark, for he was really interested in something else-concerning the age of the earth. He said it was roughly as old as the great stars �December 1971 in Orion, compared to which I had always assumed that our planet was a newcomer in the universe. Childishly I was proud and pleased, though I did not risk my happiness by asking him how long he thought either we or Orion would last: I was afraid he knew, and could name the term. The terror of being lost in the ocean of time is something like another terror to which many of us have grown accustomed. The size of the universe has become so unimaginable, what with the discovery of galaxies too distant and too numerous even to count, that space can be a terror too, particularly if we hold on to the notion that what is there was once created, and still is kept in view by an intelligence whose location it is no longer possible to have sensible ideas about. Yet how to abandon all thought of that intelligence, even though we cannot even frame the questions of who, and what, and where? So I said once in a poem I called The God of Galaxies. The god of galaxies has more to govern Than the first men imagined, when one mountain Trumpeted his anger, and one rainbow, Red in the east, restored them to his love. One earth it was, with big and lesser torches, And stars by night for candles. And he spoke To single persons, sitting in their tents. Now streams of worlds, now powdery great whirlwinds Of universes far enough away To seem but fog-wisps in a bank of night So measureless the mind can sicken, tryingNow seas of darkness, shoreless, on and on Encircled by themselves, yet washing farther Than the last triple sun, revolving, shows. The god of galaxies-how shall we praise him? For so we must, or wither. Yet that word Of words? And where to send it, on which night Of winter stars, of summer, or by autumn In the first evening of the Pleiades? The god of galaxies, of burning gases, May have forgotten Leo and the Bull. But God remembers, and is everywhere. He even is the void, where nothing shines. He is the absence of his own reflection In the deep gulf; he is the dusky cinder Of pure fire in its prime; he is the place Prepared for hugest planets; black idea, Brooding between fierce poles he keeps apart. Those altitudes and oceans, though, with islands Drifting, blown immense as by a wind, And yet no wind; and not one blazing coast Where thought could live, could listen-oh, what word Of words? Let us consider it in terror, And say it without voice. Praise universes Numberless. Praise all of them. Praise Him. The two terrors differ in one important respect: if there is too much space, there is too little time, and the second terror is probably worse than the first. But both are at times intolerable to any mind (always excepting the young), and both of them therefore breed inconsistencies in us. In spite of what we think we know we go on assuming. an intelligible cosmos, just as we go on assuming that there is all the time in the world-an ancient phrase that comes in patly here. In other words, we go on writing psalms, and in some of them we betray our faith that the world will last indefinitely long: will forever and ever be there for minds to n1casure and for souls to love. At least there are moments when we do this, in between moments when we listen to the prophets and accept their words of doom. For the time beinganother ancient phrase-this is our predicament. And, it may be, this is our distinction. How then shall we praise a world that may not last? What would be praiseworthy about it if it were unable to endure? But say it may last. What then? Shall we have been silent on the entire subject? With half our minds could we not have speculated upon the possibility that the world is durable after all, and infinitely so? My final poem, written incidentally for this occasion, com~ menccs there. How praise a world that will not be Forever? Stillness then. Time Sleeping, never to wake. No prince's Kiss. No prince. Praise? Even The echo of it dies, even Memory, in the last brain That loved it, withers away, and mind Not even dozes, being done With work that mattered not at all. How then praise nothing? Yet that day Has never dawned. Here is the world So beautiful, being old, so Mindful of its maker-what Of him when that day comes-you say It must-what then of him, and of this Place so crowded with his creaturesWith us all-oh, praise the time That's left, praise here and now, praise Him that by his own sweet will May suddenly remake the world Forever, ever, ever, ever. Mark Van Doren, poet, author, and teacher, is a graduate of The University of Illinois and Columbia University. During the 1920's he was the literary editor of The Nation. He was a lecturer at St. John's College from 1937 to 1957 and a member of the Board of Visitors and Governors from 1943 to 1953. In 1939 he was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for his Collected Poems. He is the author of (among other hooks) Liberal Education. In May, 1959, he was named an Honorary Fellow of St. John's College. 5 �On The Study Of Politics In A Liberal Education* By MARTIN DIAMOND W. begin by agreeing with what St. John's College and Mr. Klein and Mr. Strauss have taught us, that liberal education consists in "studying with the proper care the great books which the greatest minds have left behind."' We know also that the angle of approach to those great books must vary according to the nature of what is being studied. My concern here is primarily with the angle of approach appropriate to the liberal study of politics. Let us begin from a solid foundation: Who pays? Who foots the bill for education? There are no free schools. Someone always has to supply the books, real estate, food, shelter, wages-the necessary eqnipment. And, even more, someone always has to supply the young who are to be educated-the necessary matter. Neither the necessary equipment nor the necessary matter belong as of right to the educators; on the contrary, the physical academy and the young always belong as of right to someone else. Someone else always pays and provides, be it philanthropist, church, parent, or the ruling element in the polity. Now what will the provider-payer ordinarily demand, and what is he entitled to? Ordinarily he is quite likely to demand too much; liberal education, whose claims arc of course ultimately unlimited, is always in danger of *Paper prepared for the 275th Anniversary Colloquium at St. Jolm's College in Annapolis, Thursday, October 14, 1971. The author wishes to thank the Henry Salvatori Center for the Study of Individual Freedom of Claremont Men's Co1lcgc for support. I "What is Liberal Education?" in Leo Strauss, Liberalism: Ancient and Modern (New York: Basic Books, 1968), p. 3. See also "On Liberal Education," by Jacob Klein, in Proceedings ot the Colloquium on The Liberal Arts Curriculum (published by St. Mary's College, California, 1965), p. 4. 6 being made to conform to the interests and prejudices of those who pay. But it is not enough to gratify ourselves in smiting with easy academic rhetoric the philistine foe. The other question remains: What is the payer entitled to? Surely he is entitled to some form of fidelity to the regime or, at the very least, "a decent respect to" its fundamental opinions. These are the minimum terms the payer is entitled to demand as a condition for supplying the educators with his children and his substance. Some balance, then, must be struck between the unlimited claims of liberal education and the demands of the regime, or at least some mode must be found of accommodating those demands. Both justice and expediency demand this; there is no earthly reason why the payer should pay unless the balance is struck, and there is in fact no way educators can get hold of the children and the substance without the consent of the payer. It is therefore prudent for liberal education to take the initiative in striking a sound balance, a balance that makes possible a true liberal education while also accommodating those who pay. take this prudential initiative means to give to the regime and its opinions a central and respected place in the liberal study of politics.2 The political situa2 This presupposes, of course, a decent regime. If the regime is indecent, then open formal liberal education is impossible; teachers and student::; will be able to proceed only covertly if at all. After all, like the good man, the good professor cannot be a good citizen of an indecent regime. But none of this has anything to do with our situation here and now. We live in a country that defers to higher education, clumsily perhaps, hut with an unprecedented1y lavish hand, and that gives to liberal education an astonishing freedom, even encourage· ment, to pursue its ends. �December 1971 tion of liberal education requires this. But not only expediency and justice, that is to say, political reasons, require this, but educational reasons as well require that one begin the liberal study of politics with the respectful consideration of one's own regime. There are four such related reasons. All three turn on the following view: that the reasonable educational procedure is to begin with the familiar and then render it problematic. This is especially the case with political education. Nowadays all will readily agree with making political things problematic, especially the most revered things, since it is the doctrine of the age to do so; moreover, liberal education does indeed require that every opinion be treated ultimately as lacking in authority, that is, as being problematic, until tested and endorsed by reason. What is not so clear today is why you must start respectfully with the familiar. First, respectful consideration of the familiar is required because the study of politics is a practical inquiry, one aimed at producing practical wisdom. That is, it does not aim primarily at achieving a purely theoretical understanding but at making students capable of just political judgments and actions. 3 If only theoretical understanding were the aim, and not the capacity to judge and act, then the student of politics would not need to know anything at all about his own country; knowledge of Timbuctoo or of life in any remote time and place could supply the "premises and subject matter" for the theoretical understanding of politics. But the whole point of the liberal study of politics is precisely to be able to deal with one's own country, to improve it, to shape it in some image of justice. The first and foremost political question is what should we do? "The relation of man to his citizenship, to the obligations that flow from his being a citizen, a member of a po1itical community-this relation is one of the great and standing themes of all classical philosophy." 4 His citizenship, l1is political community; not just citizenship and political community in general, but the particular time and place that belongs to him. For us this means that the liberal study of politics requires a full consideration of the country that belongs to us. 3 This does not mean that teachers and students are to he activists, nor that they must study and discuss chiefly the political issues of the day, Rather, the position argued here offers a mean between the arid "value-free" political science of positivism and the mere assertiveness of the new demands for a "relevant" society-changing political science. Against the former, I would argue that political science is ludicrous if not pointed to the questions of justice and nobility and "what we ought to do." But as against the latter, I would argue that political science professors (and their students) have no necessary competence (let alone the right) to deal authoritatively with immediate questions of public policy, T11at is, they lack the experience and prudence necessary to wise political action; indeed, professors and students may 8S such be peculiarly unfitted for wise political action. But what they can and must do is to engage in the liberal study of politics tha.t forms the capacity in men to judge and act justly as citizens. ·!Jacob Klein, "On Liberal Education," p. 7. SECOND, the natural starting point for learning to love what is just and noble is the love of one's own. The aim of the liberal study of politics is to be able to love justice and nobility wherever and in whomever it is found. But humans do not begin with that capacity; they are nahually inclined to love what is close to and belongs to them. That is where the ordinary human passions begin; it is good teaching to begin with what the student already loves or at least is concerned about, and hence what "grabs" him. But the teacher should not lay rude hands on this parochial love; it contains what will make something superior possible. The ascent from opinion to philosophical knowledge-the final aim of liberal education-should begin with proper reflection on what in one's own ·is worthy of love. This means an inquiry into what is just and hence truly lovable in one's own country, an inquiry which points the student to the task of perfecting his own regime and, ultimately, to the question of what is just simply. (What other defensible reason is there for teachers to cause students to question the beliefs that they have received from their parents and their country?) Third, and closely related to the previous point, is what I understand to be Aristotle's argument in the Ethics: namely, that politics cannot be taught properly unless the student brings to the study a decent stock of received opinions and habits. There can be no ascent without some such solid starting-point: Political reasoning cannot start from questions and proceed to con~ victions; it must start from convictions in order to be elevated to philosophic quesions. 5 These convictions are not to he ignored or rudely challenged; the student is not to empty his mind of the received opinions, nor is he to he made to question the very basis of political morality. He is not to begin by questioning whether the things he believes to be good are good at all; this would plunge the student into bottomless questioning from which he cannot rise. (Surely we have all been guilty parties as teachers or students to such binges of nihilistic questionings; Aristotle soberly warns us to avoid such fruitless pursuits.) Rather, beginning with whatever the student already takes to be good in his own regime, the educational task is to consider affirmatively what that good is, how it works, what its implications are, etc. The student is to be led from and through the received opinions toward the full explication of what he believes. To explicate fully means to develop precisely the meaning, nuances, the grounds, and implications of opinion. When ;, Although the Republic asks questions which Aristotle does not openly raise in the Ethics or Politics, on this issue what Socrates docs is similar to Aristotle's procedure: TI1e dialectic needs as its startingpoint the decent opinion of Cephalus regarding speaking truth and paying one's dehts. Each actual decent polity supplies the foundation for the inquiry into what a complete polity would be. 7 �The College that affirmative development of what the opmwn is, 1s completed, the deeper questions of why the opinion is good will have been answered or will then be in a position to be answered. The full explication of received decent opinions culminates in philosophic understanding. Finally, the aim of the political art is to achieve through reason the regulation of interests and passions; that is, the political art is the "charioteer'' in action in the public arena. Since politics seeks a kind of transcendence of the bodily and spirited demands, the liberal study of politics seeks to make the transcendence possible. But there is a danger to be avoided, namely, the danger of a spurious and delusive sense of transcendence that con~ sists in being able to mouth the formulae of political reason while remaining destitute of the capacity to govern one's passions. The danger may be increased when political study begins with the remote and unfamiliar; it is easy to be wise about the passions of others. The danger may perhaps be lessened by the careful study of one's own political things; it is harder but more rewarding to become wise about one's own fathers. The wisdom thus gained is an earned and action-guiding transcendence of one's own prejudices and passions. Now these are general reasons why the liberal study of politics should commence in the sympathetic consideration of one's own regime. The nature of the American regime supplies compelling particular reasons why liberal education in America should follow that course. These may be stated as four reasons. First, the defining American experience was the founding of the republic. The major themes of the American polity were "writ large" in that event. Now founding is the greatest of political acts; it comprehends all the others. Moreover, the American founding is unusual in that its record was quite fully preserved for us; it is there in the form of writings, "great books," as it were. Accordingly, we have available to us in our own past, in our own language, in the words of our own "fathers," instruction of a profound kind regarding the nature of political things. Second, this instruction that the study of the Found· ing affords has peculiarly the merit that it reveals the relationship between practice and theory (in the modern sense). In much of political behavior, the principles that underlie the action are often concealed or inchoate or confused; but in the American Founding the rival principles are quite clearly and fully stated, and are in· telligible to the student when properly presented. He learns to see very great republican statesmen at work, adapting principles to circumstances and molding circum~ stances in the direction of principles. This is edifying political instruction and enables the student to see with greater clarity the principles that make intelligible the political life he sees about him in America today. 8 Third, the American political experience tests one of the great questions of modernity-the problem of democracy. The old-fashioned view was quite correct: The American regime is indeed an "experiment in democracy"; Tocqueville rightly understood that America was where the question of democracy was being tested. The student, therefore, has 11in his bones" the experience with which to make meaningful to him the problem of democracy. The proper study of American writings and events opens the student to broader reflections on that problem. Fourth, to enlarge upon the preceding point, the American regime is a paradigm of modernity. It is in a way the modern regime. The American things are peculiarly instinct with the virtues and vices that modern men must understand. To study the American regime is therefore to begin to consider the conflict between the moderns and the ancients. This is especially so when the Founders are studied because they openly grappled with that conflict when it was, at least in part, a matter of choice; they were thoughtful partisans of modernity. And if to consider the question between antiquity and modernity is the necessary preparation today for us to consider philosophy, then the study of American political things is almost indispensable to a liberal education. In any event, such a study is likely to have a sobering effect on the young student who becomes fascinated by antiquity, which is all to the good. The question between the ancients and the moderns is far too difficult and poignant to permit any glibness, to permit anything but the utmost seriousness. One proper approach into that issue is through an appreciation of modernity as manifested in our own country. recommendation that follows from all this is clear: at the beginning if not at the center of the liberal study of politics, for this time and place, must be the respectful, supportive, and ultimately philosophic con· sideration of the great writings and principles and history of the American polity. Now this has a happy additional advantage. It helps insure against a danger peculiarly im· portant in modern mass higher education. When millions go to colleges and universities, some of those who are seeking a liberal education are unfortunately not capable of it. As it were, the many and the few are now to be found in each classroom. Liberal education, it must be remembered, is strong stuff; it can injure those incapable of handling its demands. Every teacher has had the experience (although not all know it) of unintentionally injuring some of his students. Some shatter religious beliefs, others debunk sexual "mores," and others mock the "values of the marketplace." Still other incautiously or too loudly teach philosophic truths that cannot be received with understanding and prudence by young students. The danger is not only that individual students �December 1971 can be left disoriented, less decent, less capable of common sense; but the danger is on a large enough scale now that the regime may be deprived of the kinds of citizens it needs. 'l11is danger is averted, I believe, if the sympathetic consideration of the American regime is properly stressed in the teaching of politics. When this is done, each student will be more likely to take from his education what he is capable of receiving. Those students who can go all the way will have been given sound guidance; and those who inevitably "drop out" along the way will have had their opinions and characters improved by what they were able to understand. This no doubt has an "elitist" ring to it. But liberal education cannot avoid an aristocratic implication; however, it is possible to understand this implication as appropriate to a democratic regime. Liberal education is the ladder by which we try to ascend from mass democracy to democracy as originally meant. Liberal education is the necessary endeavor to found an aristocracy within democratic mass society. Liberal education reminds those members of a mass democracy who have ears to hear, of human greatness. 6 The American tradition offers strong support for this view. For example, Thomas Jefferson often spoke enthusiastically of a "natural aristocracy" and, indeed, considered it a great advantage of democracy that it elevated to high position men of the natural rather than of the artificial aristocracy. In justifying an educational scheme he had devised, which would have sent only "the most promising subjects" to college, Jefferson argued that Worth and genius would thus have been sought out from every condition of life and completely prepared by education for defeating the competition of wealth and birth for public trusts.7 In short, the American materials permit, indeed necessitate-this is their merit-the kind of reflection on democracy that is proper to a liberal education. ,, ,, * IN responding on behalf of political science to the question, "what-and how-should a liberal arts college teach," I have argued that the liberal study of politics, while opening the student to the just and noble simply, 6 7 Leo Strauss, op. cit., p. 7. Quoted in Jacob Klein, op. cit., p. 8. Jefferson earlier had put a similar point in very h1unt language: "By this means twenty of the best geniuses will be raked from the rubbish annually" (Query XIV in his Notes on the State of Virginia) . should commence in the sympathetic understanding of the American regime. But, as is no doubt well known to you, not all political scientists take this approach to the matter. Or to put it another way: Most would disagree. Given the dominant themes of contemporary American politic0J science, most would say something as follows: "There isn't anything 'just or noble' to aim at; and, in any event, it hasn't anything to do with us because we, as political scientists, can't know what it is; moreover, the sympathetic study of the American constitutional order is emphatically not the way to get to the 'just and noble,' whatever that is." In short, American political science manages to combine a continued adherence to the positivist distinction between "facts and values" with a hostility to or contempt for the fundamental principles of the American political order. Such a political science is profoundly mistaken, I believe, and can offer no guidance to liberal education; which is no doubt why in fact political science has been conspicuously so little heard from on that subject during the last generation. First, as to the hostility to or contempt for the American constitutional order. American political science, in large measure, rests upon the view that the Founders' consti~ tutional ~'frame of government" is either irrelevant_ or harmful: irrelevant because it has been outmoded by the informal workings of history; harmful because it places unnecessary and even crippling restraints on the democratic process. This is not the place to argue these matters out. I must leave them at the level of assertion as to the fact, while I offer two reflections on why it is the fact. The contempt and hostility depend upon a theory of democracy that is, in n1y opinion, inferior to the understanding of, say, Madison and Tocqueville. That is, the contemporary view is insufficiently appreciative of why democracy is problematic and, hence, of what is necessary to guard against its defects. Being insufficiently aware ofwhatcan go wrong, contemporary political science tends to ignore or to be hostile to the moderating and restraining character of the constitutional system. Accordingly, it cannot see in the American regime the foundation for the liberal study of politics. Tms hostility to the regime rests also npon an utopian theory of progress. The idea of utopia or progress makes it impossible to be faithful to one's present regime, or even to wish to live at peace with it. Every actual regime must be transformed and superseded until the final conflict has resulted in the final regime (if that word could then still be used). On this view, politics cannot consist. merely in dealing with the evils of the day within the existing political framework, but must always point toward the transformation of the regime itself. This is a particularly rich source of contemporary mischief. The particular mischief that concerns us here is the view that 9 �The College education, therefore, must be the midwife not of thought but of historical change, of progress. Education must be in the service of Utopia. This view rightly leads to hostility toward the American regime for the good reason that that regime is profoundly and effectively turned against the utopian tcnclcncy. 8 But if a sympathetic understanding of the American regime is the necessary startingpoint for the liberal study of politics, then a political science incJpable of that appreciation is likewise incapable of guiding liberal education. Contemporary American political science is incapable of guiding liberal education for a still more important reason. Not only does it foreswear the proper starting-point, but it also denies the traditional end of the liberal study of politics-namely, an understanding of political things that enables one to judge and act justly and nobly; moreovcr1 it offers to liberal education no serious alternative end of its own. It denies the traditional end of purpose and is unable to supply one of its own, because of an adherence to positivism or, still more radically, to historicism, both of which deny the "cognitive" status of ends or "values" like justice and nobility. It cannot speak to the proper purpose of liberal education, or of anything else for that matter, because it denies the possibility of proper purposes or of knowledge of them. Contemporary American political science abdicates the study or purpose or ends and consigns them to the realm of "values" which, according to the positivist "fact-value" distinction, is radically separate from the realm of reasoned argument, that is to say, from the realm of education. Such a science has emphatically abdicated its station as guide to liberal education. Moreover, it is a science that has degraded itself because its view of "values" -that they are merely the expression of subrational determinants of human behavior-denies to the political the unique element that constitutes its being. Politics is constituted by the rivalry of human opinion regarding the just and noble things. That is to say, politics is an expression of the uniquely human capacity to reason about such matters. (And the liberal study of politics consists in learning to reason well about such matters.) But the fact-value distinction denies the authenticity of the human capacity to reason about justice anci nobility; what passes for such reasoning, it is argued, is mcrc1y rationalization that has its true causes in the subterranean social, psychological, and economic forces that determine the content of human thought. Thus, in denying the clement that gives to the political its being, the fact-value distinction is fatal to political science. But it is the veritable spawning ground of the other social sciences: They rush to fill the gap created when political science improvidently abdicates its proper subject matter. Hence R The frenzied criticism of America by the contemporary Leftconsider, for example, Marcusc-is due precisely to the obdurately effective resistance of the American regime to its aspirations. 10 the triumphs of sociology, psychology, economics, the social sciences, the behavioral sciences. (Perhaps there has been one more tiny triumph in the title given to this panel session: "Politics & Society," Why "and Society"? What aspect of "Society" is worth a moment's consideration that does not have primarily a political character or bearing?) But if guidance for the liberal study of politics is not to be found in the dominant American political science, in what kind of political science is it to be sought? The answer is easy to give, at least here at St. John's-Aris~ totelian political science, a political science that is above all an inquiry into what are proper pnrposes. Fortunately for me, it is not necessary in this place or on this occasion to attempt to give an account of what Aristotelian political science is. It sufficed for present purposes simply to have pointed towards the kind of political science that is necessary for the liberal study of politics. * * * * To transcend one's time requires first to be fully of it. The road to political philosophy lies through the decent opinions of one's own regime. The liberal study of politics requires a political science that can guide the student safely along that road. Martin Diamond, the former Burnet C. Wohlford Professor of American Political Institutions, Claremont Men's College and Claremont Graduate School, is now Professor of Political Science, Northern Illinois University. He is co-author of The Democratic Republic: An Iutroduction to American Government, 1966, and is the author of many articles and essays, including "Democracy and the Federalist: A Reconsideration of the Framers' Intent," American Political Science Review, 1959; a chapter on The Federalist in History of Political Philosophy, 1963; and "Conservatives, Liberals, and the Constitution" in Left, Right, and Center, 1967. �NEWS ON THE CAMPUSES ST. JOHN'S CELEBRATES AN ANNIVERSARY pated in all of the panels during the three day colloquium. On Saturday, Martin Meyerson, President of the University of Pennsylvania, spoke on "The I vary Tower of Babel" at the convocation outside Woodward Hall. An academic procession composed of St. John's College Faculty, students, alumni, and the Board of Visitors and Governors along with the representatives of over seventy colleges, universities, and learned societies, began the special afternoon event. Greetings were read by Miss Helen Anastaplo, Class of 1972, for the students; Robert A. Goldwin, Dean in Annapolis, and William A. Darkey, Dean in Santa Fe, for the Faculty; William R. Tilles, President of the Alumni Association, for the alumni; Arland F. Christ-Janer, President of the College Entrance Examination Board and former Treasurer and Vice President of St. John's College,. for the colleges, universities, and learned societies; and the Honorable Blair Lee, Lt. Governor of Md., for the State. President Richard D. Weigle read a congratulatory telegram from President Richard M. Nixon which praised the College for its "proud role in the historv of our nation," and noted that "gene~ations of its graduates have richly contributed to the development of our culture and to the well-being of our society." President Nixon added that St. John's "has remained steadfast in its commitment to individual selffulfillment" To assist the College in celebrating its special occasion, the Mayor of Annapolis, Roger Moyer, the Executive of Anne Arundel County, Joseph Alton, Jr., and the Governor of the State of Maryland, Marvin Mandel, proclaimed Saturday, October 16, 1971, as "St John's College Day" in their respective governmental districts. Additional activities during the anniversary celebration included Homecoming for the alumni and a meeting of the Board of Visitors and Governors. St. John's College in Annapolis celebrated its 275th anniversary with a concert, an academic colloquium, and a convocation on October 12th through October 16th this year. The College was founded as King William's School in July, 1696, when the House of Burgesses in the Colony of Maryland passed and Governor Francis Nicholson signed the Petitionary Act to "our Dread Sovereigne," King William III. A concert by the renowned J uilliard String Quartet began the anniversary festivities on Tuesday, October 12th. It was sponsored by Miss Caroline Newton as a memorial to the late Victor Zuckerkandl, a member of the St. John's College Faculty from 1948 to 1964. The theme of the academic colloquium was "What-and How-Should A Liberal Arts College Teach?" Three panels met during the week; they were "Literature and Language," "Politics The Juilliard String Quartet performed works by Richter, Verdi, and Beethoven at the concert opening the 275th anniversary celebration activities in Annapolis. and Society," and "Mathematics and Science." The panelists also participated in a seminar on Plato's Mcno and visited regular St. John's College seminars. Papers were presented before the panels met and were the basis for discussion. Their authors were Martin Diamond, Professor of Political Science, Northern Illinois University; Holger Olaf Nygard, Professor of English, Duke University; Alfred Morton Bark, Professor of Physics, University of California at Irvine; and Jacob Klein, Tutor, St. John's College in Annapolis. z Near the end of each of the two- ~ hour meetings, the discussion was open ~ to the audience. Over 20 distinguished oi educators, writers, and editors partici- i 11 �The College COLLOQUIUM PANELISTS Panelists at the 275th Anniversary Colloquium included (left foreground, clockwise) : Gertrude Himmelfarb, Kenneth Eble, William Fishback, Holger Nygard, Jacob Klein, Mark Roelofs, Frederic Ness, John Millis, Alfred Bork, Robert Spaeth, Norman Podhoretz, Alexander Bickel, George Anastaplo, Irving Kristol, Winfree Smith, Martin Diamond, Robert Russell, Stillman Drake, Rogers Albritten, Robert Goldwin, and Leon Kass. Other Tutors participating in the Colloquium were Robert Bart, Eva Brann, Howard Fisher, John Kieffer, Samuel Kutler, Hugh McGrath, Edward Sparrow, and Elliott Zuckerman. Panel topics were "Literature and Language," "Politics and Society," "Mathematics and Science," and ' The St. John's College Seminar." 1 Photos by M. E. Warren Students, faculty, and other guests listen intently at the "Politics and Society" panel in the Conversation Room in the Key Memorial Hall. 275TH ANNIVERSARY COLLOQUIUM Mark Roelofs (left), A1fred Bork, and Jacob Klein listen to discussion during a meeting of the panels. 12 Alfred Bark, Professor in the Department of Physics at the University of California at Irvine, mulls over a point with Edward Sparrow, Tutor. �December 1971 Charles Finch (left) and Russell Leavenworth 1e8d the academic procession from Francis Scott Key Memorial Hall to Woodward Hall. Senior Helen Anastaplo brings greetings from the students. 275TlH ANNIVERSARY CONVOCATION Delegates from colleges, universities, and learned societies line the front walk at Woodward Hall during the convocation ceremonies. Martin Meyerson, President of the University of Pennsylvania, speaks on "The Ivory Tower of Babel." 13 �The College NEw "ToWER BuiLDING" DEDICATED IN 275TH ANNIVERSARY OBSERVANCE AT SANTA FE The dedication of the new Tower Building, an address by Norman Cousins, a concert by the College Chamber Orchestra and the opening of an exhibition of works by Eliot and Aline Porter were scheduled for the December 3rd-4th weekend in Santa Fe. Invitations were sent to friends of the College throughout the Southwest for the 275th anniversary observance. The Friday evening concert was held in the Peterson Student Center. There was a meeting of the Board of Visitors and Governors Saturday morning and a buffet luncheon at noon. The 2:30 p.m. Convocation and Dedication Ceremony featured an ad~ ~ dress by Mr. Cousins, former editor of 2 Saturday Review and a member of the 275th Anniversary Campaign National Committee. After tours of the new building and the display of Eliot Porter's photographs of Greece and Turkey and Aline Porter's paintings, guests enjoyed a reception in the Peterson Student Center. The new three-story building, design by architect William R. Buckley of Santa Fe, is modified territorial style similar to the other structures on the seven-year-old campus. There is a bell tower with a 740-pound bell on top and a portal on the sides facing the campus plaza. The Tower Building provides space for administratives offices and a large section of the College Library. It relieves classroom space used for ad~ ministrative offices in the Evans The new Tower Building is given a snow initiation previous to its dedication in Santa Fe. The bell was placed in the tower at a later date. Santa Fe, former chairman of the jobs as yard work, baby sitting, tutor- Board of Visitors and Governors, and Mr. John Murchison of Dallas, Texas. The 18,000 square feet of floor space ing, repair, cleaning, and driving. The advisory committee includes: houses offices for the president, vice president, dean, assistant deans, registrar, treasurer, business manager, admissions director, director of the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education, and public information director, as well as a conference room, supply area, space for printing and mailing activities, and up to 25,000 volumes in notices of the serviee in its monthly the library section, including three important music collections. mailings. Sewll & Stanton Contractors of Santa Fe was the general contractor. ST. JoHN's HosTs FENCING TouRNAMENT SANTA FE OPENS STUDENT EMPLOYMENT OFFICE Science Hall, and also frees one student residence building which was used for faculty offices and a portion of the library. Gifts totaling $550,000 for this project were contributed by the Fleisch- citizens mann Foundation of Reno, Nevada; College. The office advertised in the the Kresge Foundation of Detroit, Michigan; Mrs. Walter Driscoll of newspaper and mailed notices that students were available for such part time 14 Vice President J. Burchenal Ault, Buildings and Grounds Superintendent Stanley Nordstrum and Treasurer Kirk C. Tuttle of the College, and Mr. John Dcndahl, Mrs. Daniel T. Kelly, Jr., Mrs. Abe Silver and Mr. E. R. "Ned" Wood of the community. Mr. Wood is an officer of the First National Bank of Santa Fe which offered to include Senior Seth Cropsey set up a Student Employment Office at the Santa Fe campus this fall with the assistance of an advisory committee of local and administrators at the St. John's in Santa Fe was the host on November 13-l4th for a five-state invitational fencing tournament, be- lieved to be the first of its kind ever held in New Mexico. Fifty-one fencers from Texas, Colorado, Arizona, California and New l\!Jexico competed in beginner and advanced divisions. The tournament was conducted by Mr. Istvan Fehervary, Director of Student Activities at St. John's. �December 1971 LIBRARY AssociATES COMPLETE THIRD YEAR OF BooK-AUTHOR LUNCHEONS The St. John's College Library Associates in Santa Fe have completed their third successful year of community Book and Author Luncheons. The noon time programs at the downtown La Fonda hotel were started in 1969. The thirteenth luncheon was held November 12th with Eliot Porter, E. Boyd and Stan Steiner as speakers. The purpose of the series is to give people in Santa Fe the opportunity to hear and m,cct authors from this area and to help build the St. John's library collectwn. The luncheons are directed by the chairman of the Librarv Associates Committee, Richard :~/Iartin Stern, who also is president of the Mystery Writers of America. Some of the leading writers of the Southwest have donated their time to participate in the programs. National Committee for St. John's 275th Anniversary Campaign, lives with his wife at San Patricio, New Mexico. She is a sister of Andrew Wyeth. Their paintings have been exhibited in major museums throughout the nation. The Porters are the parents of a summer '71 graduate of St. John's, Patrick Porter. Eliot Porter is internationally known for his outdoor color photography and books on conservation, including The Place No One Knew: Glen Canyon, Galapagos, and In Wildness is the Preservation of the World. Mrs. Porter is an outstanding painter, influenced both by her native New England and the Southwest, where they have lived for many years. The gallery also exhibited a collection of wood block prints by Shiko Munakata, "Views of the Tokaido" under the auspices of the International Exhibitions Foundation, Washington, D. C. TITOS VANDIS VISITS ANNAPOLIS Titos Vandis, star of the film "Never on Sunday" and several Broad~ way productions, recently performed parts from Greek comedies and tragedies in Annapolis. He played the messengers from Aeschylus' "The Persians/' Sophocles' "Oedipus Rex," and Euripides' "lphi~ geneia in Aulis." He also directed and appeared with six St. John's students in a thirty minute scene from Aristophanes' ''Lysistrata.'' Following the performance the R.A.M. Film Society showed "Never on Sunday." Mr. Vandis has starred in Broadway productions such as "On A Clear Day You Can See Forever," "11)'3 Darling" "Man o f La ~1ancha," and "Zorba." ' ' l HURD, WYETH, PoRTER EXHIBITS AT SANTA FE GALLERY . Fall shows at the St. John's Gallery m Santa Fe featured the work of Peter Hurd, his wife Henriette Wyeth, and Eliot and Aline Porter. Hurd, who is a member of the ADULT COMMUNITY SEMINARS HELD IN ANNAPOLIS The Adult Community Seminars for Fall 1971 have been held in Annapolis wrth Tutors Geoffrey Comber, Alvin Main, Nicholas Maistrellis, John Sarkissian, and Robert L. Spaeth leading the discussions. The readings have been "The Starry Messenger" and "Letter to the Grand Duchecs Christiana" by Galileo, Elements of Chemistry by Lavoisier, Ongu1 of Specres by Darwin, selected poems by Donne, selected sonnets by Shakespeare, selected poems by Yeats and "The Love Song of J. Alfred Pru: frock" by Eliot. PRESS Cum HoNoRs PRESIDENT WEIGLE The Santa Fe Press Club awarded a plaque to President Weigle on October Jst for his enrichment of the Santa Fe community through St. John's College. "Vv'e cite Dr. vVeigle for offering our young people the chance to be active learners to read ' ' to question, to talk and to listen," said Club President H. D. Woodruff, and ''for enriching Santa Fe with a beautiful college that teaches great ideas from great books." Referring to Dr. Weigle's Asian experience, Woodruff added, 'Tic knows the Far East as well as the Far West; he bring; the wisdom of the ancient and modern worlds together into a community of learning." 'l11e awards are presented monthly by the club to recognize people making outstanding contributions to the positive development of Santa Fe. ANNAPOLIS CAMPUS NEWS Douglas Allanbrook, Miss Eva Brann, Thomas K. Simpson, and Edward J. Sparrow, Jr., were recently appointed to the Addison E. Mullikii1 Tutorships, and Robert A. Goldwin, Dean, was appointed to the . first Richard Hammond Elliott Tutorship. Douglas Allanbrook and Miss Wye Jamison, Tutors, were married on Friday, November 26, 1971. The new address for Mr. and Mrs. Laurence Berns, Tutors, is: The Pond, 56 Station Road, Haddenham, Ely, Cambs, England. Geoffrey Comber, Assistant Dean and Tutor, and Tutors Harvey Flaumenlraft and J olrn Sarkissian served on a 275th Anniversary Celebration subcommittee charged with the responsibility of choosing colleges and universities to be represented at the anniversary convocation in October. William DeHart, Tutor, and Mrs. Mary P. Felter, Director of Public Information~ were co-chairmen of the 1971-72 United Fund campaign; they surpassed last year's goal. Clrarles T. Elzey, Treasurer, and James E. Grant~ Business Manager, were hosts for the quarterly meeting of the Maryland Association of College Business Officers at the College on November 17th. Over 47 business office personnel from 22 Maryland colleges attended the meeting; it was the largest gathering of the personnel in the association's recent history. 15 �The College In July the latest Rand McNally publication in the Public Affairs Series edited by Robert A. Goldwin was published. It is entitled How Democratic Is America? Response to the New Left Challenge. Mr. Goldwin lectured in Santa Fe at the Graduate Institute on August 1st, and on September 8th he read a paper on Locke entitled "The Politics of Self-Interest" at a meeting of the American Political Science Association in Chicago. He is currently planning a trip to the Soviet Union, Bulgaria, and France under the auspices of the Comparative and International Education Society. John S. Kieffer, Tutor, directed the February Freshman Program and led the seminar for that program during the summer. He will also direct the February Freshman again this year. Ile continues to research files of Scott Buchanan in support of Stringfellow Barr's projected history of the foundation of the new program at the College. Jacob Klein, Tutor, gave a lecture entitled "Plato's 'Ion'" at Catholic University of America in Washington, D. C., on November II th. He also participated in a seminar on Plato's "Sophist" the next day with University graduate students. Russell E. Leavenworth, on leave from his position as Professor of English at Fresno State College in California, is serving as Associate Di~ rector of Development. His daughter Natalie is a sophomore at the College in Santa Fe. Julius Rosenberg, Director of Development, was chairman of the Professional Division (Anne Arundel) County campaign for the United Fund. College Nurse Juliana Rugg is on the Anne Arundel County Board of Planned Parenthood. Robert L. Spaeth, Tutor, and his senior math class were filmed by WBAlrTV, an N.B.C. affiliate, for a story on the College and the financial crisis of private institutions of higher education. Edward G. Sparrow, Jr., Tutor, delivered a lecture entitled "Jesus of Nazareth: Emmanuel and Lamb of 16 God" on October 15th at the new Thomas Aquinas College in California. COLLEGE LAUNCHES ANNIVERSARY FuND St. John's College in Annapolis and in Santa Fe has launched its 275th Anniversary Campaign Fund with a goal of $15 million, President Richard D. Weigle announced in November. In making the announcement Dr. Weigle also reported advanced gifts and pledges of $5,818,185, representing 38% of the goal. Of this total, $1,460,462 has been designated for the Annapolis campus and $4,357,723 for the Santa Fe campus. The primary objectives of the threeyear drive on each campus are en- dowed tutorships, lectureships, and scholarships, as well as unrestricted monies for current operating expenses. Annapolis seeks to add $3.25 million to its present $8.5 million endowment. Santa Fe requires new substantial permanent funds, and has set a goal of $4.75 million. The chairman of the National Committee for the campaign is Mr. Victor G. Bloede III, Class of 1941, Chairman of the Board of Benton and Bowles of New York City. Honorary co-chairmen are Richard F. Cleveland of Baltimore, Maryland; Paul Mellon of Upperville, Virginia; and Mark Van Doren of Falls Village, Connecticut. All three are Honorary Fellows of the College. Mr. Paul D. Newland, Provost of the Annapolis campus, notes that the cost of a college education in the United States has risen to an almost prohibitive level and that gifts to endowment as well as current operating budgets are absolutely necessary if independent colleges are to continue to survive. St. John's College in Annapolis is included in the Annapolis City Historic District, and some of the funds, he added, would he used to renovate historic buildings on the campus. Advance gifts and pledges have assured two small new buildings, one on each campus, Dr. Weigle said. In Santa Fe the Tower Building is being completed this month to house administrative offices and part of the Library. Gifts aggregating $550,000 for this project have been contributed by the Fleischmann Foundation of Reno, Nevada; Kresge Foundation of Detroit, Michigan; Mrs. Walter F. Driscoll of Santa Fe, New Mexico; and Mr. John Murchison of Dallas, Texas. The Annapolis architectural plans for the Harrison Health Center are about to go out for bid. This structure, which will also contain two faculty apartments, is the gift of Mrs. John T. Harrison of Green Farms, Connecticut, in memory of her late husband, a member of the Class of 1907. Other major advance gifts and pledges include a million dollars from Mr. Paul Mellon; $1,250,000 from Mrs. Duane L. Peterson of Baltimore, Maryland, for the Peterson Student Center in Santa Fe; an endowed landscape fund at Annapolis from Mrs. Carleton Mitchell; and an endowed tutorship at Annapolis established by bequest of the late Mr. Richard Hammond Elliott of Annapolis. In addition the Annapolis campus recently received an unrestricted gift of $1,000 from the Thomas and Elizabeth Sheridan Foundation, Inc., of Cockeysville, Maryland; an unrestricted gift of $1,000 from the Sears-Roebuck Foundation of Chicago, Illinois; and a gift of $10,000 from the H. A. B. Dunning Foundation of Baltimore, Maryland, to establish the H. A. B. Dunning Memorial Fund. SANTA FE CAMPUS OFFERS Two ADULT SEMINARS St. John's offered two adult seminars for Santa Fe residents this fall. "The Individual and the State" is the subject of the group meeting Tuesday evenings from 8 to 10 p.m. with Tutor Samuel E. Brown. Dean William A. Darkey is leading the seminar which meets Wednesday afternoons at 2 p.m. The general topic of this study is "Some Ways of Telling a Story." �ALUMNI ACTIVITIES pointmcnt, with far fewer attending than anticipated. The meal was a fine one and for the first time in many years, was served as a sit-down meal. The informal parties on Friday night and on Saturday after the Dinner were again successful, and offer the only real chance for alumni to sit and talk leisurely. All alumni were most appreciative of the opportunity to use both the Chase-Stone Common Room and the Coffeeshop area of McDowell for these gatherings. While the Convocation in the middle of Saturday afternoon compli~ cated some of the Homecoming scheduling, the event itself was an attraction for alumni and their wives and husbands. And the delegates in their academic regalia added a bright and festive 'note to the day. 1 Alumni greetings are read by Association Presi, .i· dent William R. Tilles '59. .; HOMECOMING 1971 There have been larger crowds at Homecomings, but seldom has a group seemed to have a more enjoyable time. That was really not smprising, for how often can you celebrate your 275th birthday? And then, too, the weather was most cooperative. Some alumni arrived early enough in the week to attend some of the Anniversary activities which took place Tuesday through Friday. Others came Saturday morning for the Alumni Seminars or the Graduate School discussion with students. By lunch time a fair crowd had checked in, and the Convocation at 3 p.m. was well attended. A sufficient group was present for the Annual Meeting at 4 p.m., and of course by the time of the Alumni Reception at 5:30 p.m., the maximum number of alumni were present. The Alumni Dinner was a disap- CLASS REUNIONS As part of the 275th Anniversary Convocation on October 16th, the members of the 60th, 50th, and 30th anniversary classes were invited to participate in the academic procession. Present from the Class of 1911 were Clarence L. Dickinson, Wilbur L. Koontz, and John L. Morris, and each of these trim and hcartly gentlemen marched from Francis Scott Key Memorial Hall to the Library. The Golden Anniversary Class of 1921, after a Friday night gathering in Baltimore, mustered Franklin C. Hall, Earl R. Keller, Elwood E. Schafer, and Thomas B. Turner; William P. Maddox was also present, representing Pratt Institute. Before the day was ovcr these members were joined by JosephS. DiGiorgio, William H. Y. Knighton, and Luther S. Tall. The Class of 1941, the first to include what were then known as "new 7 o ~ gj g g ' Mrs. Faye Pohllo '56 registers for Homecoming. program" graduates, was represented by Victor G. Bloede III, James H. Clark, Henry D. Cubbage, George L. McDowell, and Henry M. Robert III. There were others celebrating at Homecoming, of course, among them the following members of the Class of 1931: L. Jefferson Fields, Edward A. Kimpel, Jr., William J. Klug, Jr., and Rudolph Schmick. The 25-year class, 1946, could gather only two, George H. Daffer and Henry T. Wensel, Jr., while 1951 was represented by D. Michael Brown, Larry Childress, John D. Oosterhout, Robert L. Parslow, and George Wend. Armin Ben diner, N ana (May) Dealy, Leonard C. Gore, Mary (Ryce) Ham, Michael W. Ham, and Saral1 E. Robinson were the 1961-ers back after their first decade as alumni. Showing promising alumni spirit at their first Homecoming were William H. Buell, Holly Ann Carroll, and James A. Cockey of the Class of 1971. 17 �The College HOMECOMING ACTIVITIES Annual Meeting of the Alumni Association. Bookstore conversation: from left, Henry Wensel '46; Ernest Hein· muller and William Ruhl, '42's. f:: ~ 0 " " z ~ " " 0 z " ' ~ ~ 1921: Elwood Schafer and William Maddox. " ~ From left: Carey Jarman '17, J. Wesley Everett '22, Ogle Warfield '19, John Noble '17. 275th Anniversary Convocation procession. " k ~ ~ F ~ ;;; g ~ ~· " '"" ~ ~ M 0 0 f-<: ~ 18 ~ �December 1971 High command discussion: President Tilles and Vice President Bernard Gessner '27_ Alumni in Convocation procession: from left, Earl Keller and Thomas Turner, both '21; Wilbur Koontz and John I\1Iorris, 'll's; past president Jack Carr '50; Clarence Dickinson -'11; and past presidents Ogle Warfield '19 and \Varren Bombardt '42. Left to right: John Alexander '20, C. Edwin Cockey '22, Mrs. Cockey, Ogle \Varfield '19. John Ponndstone '62 (left), Temple Porter '62 and daughter, and Robert Thomas '63. Alumni Board representatives John Oosterhout '51, Myron Vi/o1barsht and John Williams, '50's. 19 �The College Edward J. Dwyer Paul Mellon William B. Athey AWARD OF MERIT One of the highlights of Homecoming 1971 was the Alumni Award of Merit presentation. For the second year, the Alumni Association selected three recipients: William B. Athey '32, Edward J. Dwyer '30, and Paul Mellon '44. The presentation took place during the Homecoming Dinner on October 16th; Mr. Athey was the only recipient able to be present for the ceremony. The three citations read as follows: Mr. Athey: "'!11c College's eminence reflects his contributions both as a member of the Board of Visitors and Governors, and as esteemed adviser of our Association." Mr. Dwyer: "His professional achievements, and his distinguished service to the College as a member of its Board of Visitors and Governors, honor him and this Association." Mr. Mellon: "His country and the College are enriched because of his deep concern for their cultural and educational excellence." ALUMNI GIVING Although a complete report of last year's Alumni Annual Giving was mailed in October, it seems appropriate to ca1l attention to certain aspects of the Campaign record. It was a record: $30,483 in unre- 20 stricted gifts from 30.5% of our alumni. That exceeded the assigned goal for the third consecutive year, and the response was more than twice the national average. Again, we offer our most sincere congratulations to Chairman Jack L. Carr and the volunteers who raised the money, and to the 883 alumni who gave it. And so, flushed with our success, we arc about to enter another campaign year. This time, however, there has been a new aspect added. As President Weigle announced at Homecoming, and as Provost Paul Newland mentioned in his letter to Annapolis alumni last August, we are now in the 275th Anniversary Campaign. The Alumni Annual Giving Campaigns for the coming three years, and indeed for the past year, arc part of that Campaign. "-'hat docs this mean to the average alumnus? Genera11y, it will mean raising his level of giving to the Alumni Annual Giving Campaign. In certain cases it will mean making a substantial additional contribution. Rcmem bcr, when you arc asked to make a gift to Alumni Annual Giving, you are also being asked to help the 275th Anniversary Campaign. Respond as generously as yon are able. And, if yon wish to make an additional gift toward any other of the goals listed in the Campaign brochure, we will be most gra tcful. ANNUAL MEETING Four members were elected to twoyear terms on the Alumni Association Board of Directors during the Annual Meeting at !Iomecoming. J eromc Gilden '54, Mrs. L. Faye Polillo '56, and vl'illiam W. Simmons '48 were re-elected after serving one-year terms. Miss Charlotte King '59 was elected for her first term. In addition, Tutor Bryce D. Jacobsen '42 was appointed to the Board for one year. The "~off-year" election was established to provide continuity on the Board: eight directors are elected every other year, and four on the alternate years. In other Association business, President William R. Tilles reported that during the past year, the principal activities of the Association had been Student Recruitment, the Counselling Program for students, and fund raising. The latter was carried out largely on an individual member basis. \Vith the revival of the Alumni Lecture Series, Mr. Tilles believes the Association has a worthwhile set of programs to help the College. Mr. Tilles paid special tribute to Temple G. Porter '62 for developing a recruitment kit to aid alumni and others in interviewing prospective students, and to Mrs. Nancy Solibakkc '58 for organizing a comprehensive program of student counselling. �December 1971 CLASS NOTES 1928 J. Edmund Bull, until his retirement i? 1968 a hank vice president in New York, IS now executive director of the Steppingstone Museum Association in northern Harford County, Maryland. The Museum, devoted entirely to Americana, was established in July, 1970. Open only during the snmmcr months, the Museum contains articles as diverse as beer pails called "growlers" and a 'Nor1d War I stocking knitting machine, 1932 Hugh Parker and his wife, after maintaining two homes for many years, have closed out their abode in Bronxville, New York, and are permanently in Bermuda. He says their home, "21 Perches," is on Harrington Sound Road between "Devil's Hole" and "Angel's Grotto," a position "my classmates will not find unusual." The Parkers urge any St. Johnnies visiting Bermuda to look them up in the 'phone book. Henry S. Shryrock, Jr., who retired in 1967 after 31 years as a statistician with the Bureau of the Census ( 2 3 of those as assistant chief of the Population Division), spent the summer in Santiago, Chile. Mr. Shryock was a consultant 01ncl lecturer with the Centralamericano de Demografia, a United Nations regional training and research center. His third book, Methods and Materials of Demography, is being published this falL He is also a part-time professorial lecturer with the Center for Population Research, Georgetown University, 1935 E. Roy Shawn, formerly a management consultant and corporate manager for several major companies in the aerospace industry, has become Bnilding Operations and Business Administrator of Woods Memorial Presbyterian Church, Severna Park, Maryland. napolis and subsequently dean in Santa Fe, is dean of the Faculty at Marlboro College in Vermont. 1953 The Friday lecture in Annapolis on December 3rd was delivered by Robert G. Hazo. Entitled "Political Decentralization," the lee· ture ·was sponsored by the Alumni Association as part of its Alumni Lecture Series. 1955 Paul A. Lowdenslager is a Ph.D, degree date at the University of Dallas. candi~ 1958 Caroline (Baker) Brown, who holds an M.S.VV. degree from Howard University and who until recently was a casework supervisor for the Family Service Association of Nassau County, New York, has just accepted a new position with the Suffolk County Youth Board. The Repertory Theater of New Orleans in September named as its third director Jacques F. Cartier, founder of the Hartford (Conn.) Stage Company and until 1968 its artistic director. Until he and his wife Diana (Barry) '56 move to New Orleans after January 1st, Mr. Cartier has been dividing his time between teaching and directing at C. W, Post College, and hiring actors and technical workers for the Repertory. A card from the former Mary (Bittner) O'Connor advises that she has remarried and is now Mary (Bittner) \Viseman. 1959 October brought a ne,v:Ailled letter from Hugh M, Curtler, Jr., now on leave of absence from Southeast Minnesota State College, where he is chairman of the philosophy department. Mr. Curtler has been granted a Younger Humanist Fellowship by the National Endow· mcnt for the Humanities. He is studying intensively in the areas of political philosophy and jurisprudence, and spent time earlier in the fa11 in Oxford and Turin, Italy. 1936 1961 The Maryland Division of Tourism, headed by Gilbert A. Cranda11, this year shared a national m.vard for the "George Washington Heritage Trail" project. The Discover America Travel Award wds presented to Maryland, and to Pennsylvania, Virginia, \Nest Virginia, and the District of Columbia, for a project uniting the areas where George Washington traveled, fought, or lived. Don (McQuaid) Reynolds is now living in St. Andrew's, Scotland, where she is reading for her doctorate. 1938 Jack D. Englar, former chief economist with the Chamber of Commerce of Metropolitan Baltimore and vice president of plant operations for I'v'fcCormick & Co., Inc., has been named president of Tate Indunstrics. He joined Tate last March as vice president and general man· agcr of it:; technologies division. 1946 Clarence f. Kramer, fanner tutor in An- 1963 H:my R. and Donna (Paramalee) Bryant, after living in a number of places over the past few years, arc now settled in Glen Dale, Maryland. Mr. Bryant works as a systems analyst at the Naval Research Laboratory in Washington, D. C. 1967 Clark Lobenstine is cnroUed in a joint program in which he spends two years each at Louisville (Ky.) Presbyterian Seminary and at the University of Louisville School of Social 'Nark. At the end of the four-year period he will receive a master of divinity degree and a master of science in social work. In a recent letter he stated that the study of Hebrew is harder than Greek at St. John's. 1968 The engagement of Mary Chilton Howard and the Rev. James G. Callaway, Jr., of Kansas City, IVfissouri, was announced in September. Miss Howard has earned an M.A. degree from Columb_ia University, and is a doctoral candidate in biblical studies under a joint program of Columbia and Union Theological Seminary. A May wedding is planned. Harriet (Earnest) Keyser writes that she has been attending the University of Miami as a continuing education student, but hopes soon to attain regular status. Her husband Paul '67 has earned his B.S. degree in biology at Miami, and is now enrolled as a graduate student in microbiology. A brief note from David and Rosemary (Petke) Roberts announces the birth of Miss Laura Joan Roberts on September 15th, and tells us that the new parents last April moved to an SO-acre farm which they bought near Houlton, Maine. They have been living in a barn on the property while he builds their house; Mrs. Roberts adds that they were seeking warmer quarters for the winter. 1970 Jeffrey D. Friedman again writes from Israel, where he is studying philosophy at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, Christopher B. Nelson (SF), a second-year law student, is active in the Associated Students of the University of Utah in appealing the tuition increases at the University. The ASUU has appealed to the Head General Counsel of the U.S. Office of Emergency Preparedness, and has retained as legal counsel a recent graduate. Mr. Nelson will coordinate the research by law students in support of the counsel. Patricia Jean \Vl1ite and Friederich von Sclnverdtncr of Annapolis were married on August 16th. 11Ie bridegroom is the son of Ernst von Schwerdtner of the Class of 1917. 1971 Douglas H. Bennett writes that New York City is becoming his home. He is employed at the American Dance Center and the Spence School as dance accompanist, and hopes to continue with his composing. Barbara (Sherman) Simpson reports to our managing editor that she is taking courses in veterinary medicine at the University of Mary- lane!. In Memoriam Pl~l-ANTUONY J. SciBELLI, Montrose, N. Y., §eptembcr 3, 1968. l!]J2~FERDINAND P. THOMAS, Towson, Md., September 15, 1971. 19/ll-STUART R. N. M.: July 25, 1971. DEAN, Santa Fe, 21 �Dr. Martin Meyerson, President of the University of Pennsylvania, gives his address during the 275th Anniversary Convocation in Annapolis at vVoodward Hall near the Liberty Tree on the front campus. The College St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland 21404 Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The College </em>(1969-1981) Description An account of the resource St. John's College's Office of the Dean published <em>The College</em> from 1969 to 1981. The publication superseded <em><a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/37" title="The Bulletin of St. John's College">The Bulletin of St. John's College</a></em>.  <em>The College</em> was in turn continued by <a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/13" title="The St. John's Review"><em>The St. John's Review</em></a> in 1981.  <br /><br />A separate magazine for St. John's alumni titled <em>The College </em>began publication in 2001, continuing <em>The St. John's Reporter</em>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The College" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=12">Items in the The College Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource 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 Santa Fe, NM Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thecollegemagazine 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. 21 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Development Offices of St. John's College Title A name given to the resource The College, December 1971 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1971-12 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Wyatt, Malcolm Felter, Mary P. Parran,Jr., Thomas Trimmer, Maurice Description An account of the resource Volume XXIII, Number 4 of The College. Published in December 1971. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context The_College_Vol_23_No_4_1971 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 The College https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/4a2f23f608183529b7a670240534e211.pdf 40bcdf9df9bbb2c4217e71d16580afa4 PDF Text Text THE COLLEGE St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland Santa Fe, New Mexico April 1972 �The College Front Cover: Portrait of Philip II (ca. 1575) by Alonso Sanchez Coello (1531/32-1590), Prado, Madrid. Inside Front Cover: l\kDowell Hall, Annapolis; sketch by Daniel Sullivan, Class of 1971. Back Cover: Harrison Health Center, Annapolis; drawing by Dundin, photograph by Richard D. Bond, Jr. The College is a publication for friends of St. John's College and for those who might become friends of the College, if they came to know it. Our aim is to indicate, within the limitations of the magazine form, why, in our opinion, St. John's comes closer than any other college in the nation to being what a college should be. If ever well-placed beacon lights were needed by American education it is now. By publishing articles about the work of the College, articles reflecting the distinctive life of the mind that is the College, we hope to add a watt or two to the beacon light that is St. John's. Editor: Malcolm \:Vyatt Managing Editor: Mary P. Felter Alumni Editor: Thomas Farran, Jr. Editorial Assistant: Maurice Trimmer The College is published by the Development Offices of St. John's College, College Avenue, Annapolis, Maryland 21204 (Russell E. Leaven. worth, Director), and Santa Fe, New Mexico (J. Burchenal Ault, Vice President); Member, American Alumni Council. President, St. John's College, Richard D. Weigle. Published four times a year in April, July, October, and December. Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. Vol. XXIV April 1972 No.1 In the April Issue: The Ontological Argument, by Robert A. Neidort . The Spanish Civil War, by Douglas Allan brook. . 8 News on the Campuses 23 Alumni Activities 28 �The Ontological Argument* • by Robert A. Neidorf For quite a little while, philosophers have been fascinated by the thesis that some things can be known to be true of· the world by reasoning alone, without reliance on empirical data. The motives are not hard to understand. Empirical data come and go, and do not seem to he appropriate foundations for grand universal truths about the whole of reality; if, then, there are leading principles that underlie an ordered universe, and these are accessible to men, it seems that they should be accessible through the exercise of a power itself not dependent upon the contingencies of c·oncrete sensory experience. Again, if there are principles or forces in the universe that do not flow from concrete events limited in space and time, but underlie and shape such events, then the human faculty which grasps such principles should be commensurate with what it grasps, and similarly independent of the limitations and contingencies that surround concrete experience via the senses. Reason suggests itself as such a faculty. Another motive can be drawn from ordinarv cognitive experience. There are truths to which we are all committed that seem independent of experience. Certain propositions of arithmetic constitute ancient and honorable examples. 7+5=12 seems to be true for all time, and true independentlv of the evidence of the senses. If this is so, the lure -is dropped, and one wonders what else can be established in the same wav. -The sense in which a pr~position like 7+5=12 is said to be independent of experience must be qualified. No one (at least no one that I am currently prepared to take seriously) believes that a man born without sensory equipment would come to know simple arithmetic truths. It is not in this way that 7+5=12 is claimed to be a priori; that is, no one claims that it is discoverable in the absence of all sensation. \Vhat is claimed is that the proposition oncL· discovered is then held without reference to experienc~_' <lS justification. Imagine 7 eggs placed in a basket, then 5 more; then the basket is dumped out (the eggs are lurdboiled) and the contents are counted. Such an expe-riment might be used to illustrate the proposition '*Delivered as a lecture on February 11, 1972, at St. John's College in Santa Fe. 7+5=12. But if ll or 13 eggs were found in the basket, no one, or at most very few people, would entertain the notion that 7+5=12 had now been shown to be false; I believe we would all prefer recourse to any other theory, even if necessary the theory implicit in having recourse to a psychiatrist. Thus the experiment, while it illustrates the proposition, and may aid a learner in grasping it for the first time, is no part of the evidence for the proposition-is not part of its justification. Thus what is meant by saying that a proposition P is known a priori-known independently of experience-is that reference to experi- ' ence does not constitute the justification for P. \:Vhether or not 7+5=12 is truly known in this way is not part of my present concern. But 7+5=12 is very unlike "All swans are white." The latter is easily overturned by experience, showing that its justification rests directly on experience. The former is not so easily overturned by experience, and perhaps cannot be overturned by experience at all; it is therefore very indirectly justified by experience, and perhaps not justified by experience at all. It is plausible on the face of it to regard 7+5=12 as something known independently of experience in just ·that sense. In the eleventh century A.D. St. Anselm of Canterbury endeavored to show that "God exists" is a proposition that can be known independently of experience. His argument, usually referred to as "the ontological argument," has been discussed, refined, refuted, revived, dis~ cussed again and so on repeatedly in the intervening centuries. In recent times it has been revived and seriously considered among English-speaking philosophers largely because of the v-.rritings of two Americans, Charles Hart~ shorne and Norman Malcolm. The former is a Christian metaphysician, the latter a so-called analytic philosopher very much influenced by \Vittgenstein. i\luch of what I have to say about the ontological argument is derived from these two sources. 1 1 Cf. Charles Hartshor:ne. ,\Jan's Vision of God (Harper & Row: New York, 1941) and Anselm's Discm·ery (Open Court: Chicago, 1965); 1\'orman l'vlalcolm, "Anselm's Ontological Arguments," The Philosophical Review, LXIX, 1960. Malcolm's article and a selection from Hartshorne's ~'ision are reprinted in }Jrin Planfinga (ed.), The Ontological Argument (Doubleday: New York 1965). 1 �The College I In truth there are two ontological arguments, appearing in Chapters II and III of Anselm's Proslogium. Let me look first at the argument of Chapter II, which I present in a paraphrase according to my understanding of it. It goes something like this: The term "God" is meaningfully used. It means a being of maximallf perfect character, i.e. an entity with such a nature that no entity could be conceived which is more perfect than it is. Suppose now that one tries to form, as a meaningful expression, the statement "God does not exist." Since the term God is meaningfully used, God certainly exists in the mind of the person forming the statement, and such a person is presumably thinking of a God that exists in his own mind and perhaps in the minds of others, but not in reality. But now it is possible to think of a second God having all of the properties of that first God, plus the property of existing in reality as well as in the mind of men. This second God is clearly more perfect than the first one, the one that was being thought of in the proposition "God does not exist." Consequently, that first God is not a maximally perfect entity at all, and the statement "God does not exist" cannot consistently be entertained. Since the term "God" does have a meaning, and since "God does not exist" is self-contradictory, it follows that God exists. I believe that this argument is ultimately unsound, but its lack of soundness is not to be established by insult. Let me review several objections that may be advanced against it. I) Concede for the moment that "God does not exist" is meaningful but self-contradictory, and that its denial, "God does exist" is therefore conceptually necessary. That is, assuming "God" is a meaningful term, "God exists" is a necessary claim or thought for human beings. Still, it may be objected, a necessity of thought does not entail a corresponding necessity in the things thought about. Hence, although we may be forced to think that God exists, he may nevertheless not exist. I believe that this objection is based on a confusion. It amounts to saying that a state of affairs which I must think to be true I can also think not to be true, which is self-contradictory. The objection can be sustained only by denying all contact between thought and reality. Such a denial, which amounts to radical scepticism, is certainly possible; but it cannot be defended, because any defense would involve claims about thoughts, claims that the defender would be advancing as thoughts of his own to which a reality (other thoughts) corresponds. Because I 2 ; have a taste for defensible positions, I set aside this objection. 2) It is a dogma of modern philosophy that no a priori reasoning can issue in conclusions about matters of factabout matters of real existence. For example, reasoning independent of experience can show that if there are 7 of something and 5 of the same things, then the two heaps taken together constitute 12 of those things; but a priori reasoning can never show that there are any of those things; for that, experience is required. Again, perhaps Euclid has shown that if there is a triangle then the sum of its angles is equal to two right angles; but he has not and cannot show by a purely logical process that there is a triangle. Since Anselm's argument purports to show that something exists by a priori reasoning, it cannot be valid. This objection rests on the general rule that no a priori considerations can yield existential conclusions. To treat it properly we should have to examine the grounds for the general rule. I will turn to that task later. For the moment, I will try to hold off the objection by two considerations. In the first place, there are indeed pieces of a priori reasoning that yield conclusions of a sort about matters of fact. For exampk, logical considerations show that the concept "round square" is self-contradictory; we usually do not hesitate to infer that no round squares ·exist. If a priori considerations can yield negative existential conclusions, it is hard to see why in principle they cannot yield positive ones. In the second place, if Anselm's argument or any other argument that yields existential conclusions from non-empirical premises is sound on its own merits, it is questionable procedure to reject it on the basis of a general rule; it is more in accord with customary principles of open-mindedness to ask whether the argument shows that the general rule is not so general after all. I conclude that we cannot escape examination of the argument on its own merits. 3) On its own merits, I believe that the argument of Proslogium II is not so good. Anselm has asked us to compare two conditions of God, God without the quality of real existence (existing only in the mind) and God with the quality of real existence (existing outside the mind). He then asks us to agree that the second condition is better or more perfect than the first. But what is the relation between the quality of real existence and the subject-God-to which it is attached? Presumably all qualities attach to their subjects either essentially or accidentally. An essential quality is one that the subject must have in order to be what it is; e.g., a bachelor is essentially single. An accidental quality could be detached from its subject without changing the essential nature of that subject; e.g., a bachelor is accidentally white. Now for Anselm real existence cannot be attached to God accidentally; for to admit that would be to admit that God can be thought of without the quality of real existence, and this is just what Anselm wants to deny in �April 1972 the very heart of his argument. Hence real existence must, for Anselm, be regarded as an essential quality of God. But in that case, when he asks us to compare God without real existence against God with real existence, he is not asking us to compare two conditions of the same thing, but two quite different things. The meaning of the term "God" has shifted in the course of his argument, and the logic of it is no longer clear. Someone could argue that a man with the quality white is better or more perfect than the same•man without the quality white. I would not agree with him, but I would understand what he is saying because the meaning of "man" is kept unchanged when '\vhite" is put on or taken off. But if he argues that a single bachelor is better than one who is not single, I get confused. I cannot hold before my mind any notion or image of a married bachelor in order to compare it with the single kind. The argument has slipped away. 4) If Anselm's argument has slipped out of focus, it may yet be brought back by some ingenious interpretation. I now bring to it a fourth objection which, like the third, was suggested by Kant." I think it puts Prosiogium II beyond the possibility of salvation. Anselm's argument turns on the notion that existence is a quality that can be attached to or detached from subjects much like other qualities, whether essential or accidental. But existence is not, I think, a quality at all. To see why, consider an example. Suppose the Dean were asked to draw up a list of qualiti-es that the ideal Tutor should have. He might list such things as learnedness, articulateness, ability to work long hours, and so forth. But if he added to the list the statement that the ideal Tutor should also exist, we would regard him with suspicion. At the very least, it is hard to see what information he has added to the original list by adding "existence" as if it were a property alongside of other properties. It is certainly true that from a grammatical point of view "existenCe" can function in sentences in a manner analogous to ordinary predicate-words. V/e may say "Teddy is still existing" just as we may say "Teddy is still running" or "Teddy is still white." This formal arialogy may lead us to think that the meani.rig of "Teddy is still existing" is analogous to the meaning of the other sentences. But if we try forming the denials of the sentences the analogy quite breaks down. If someone tells me "Teddy is not any longer white" I have an rmage of the same Teddy with whiteness gone and some qualrty contrary to whiteness having taken its place. I can C\'Cn form a new affirmative sentence that describes the new situation: "Teddy now has the quality of non\\hJteness." If now I am told that "Teddy is no longer cx_isting" I have no similar image; Teddy h3s simply been wrped out. If, indeed, I try to force the analogy by formmg a new affirmative sentence I get something like this: 2 Critique of Pure Reason, A.592·602, B620-630. "Teddy now has the quality of non-existence," which is surely absurd. 3 I am not prepared to give an analysis of the statement "Teddy exists." But I am persuaded that it is not like "Teddy runs/' because "exists" is not a predicate. Insofar as the argument of Proslogium II treats "exists" as if it were a predicate, I think the argument must be rejected. II If Anselm's argument is not sound so far, it has at least suggested an enticing way of describing God. \~le have been asked to agree that God is the sort of being in which existence is bound up with its very nature. \Vhatever the failings in Anselm's handling of the logic of the term </existence," be has not, in so describing God, made any very outrageous suggestion. God is after all thought of as an entity that cannot snap in or out of existence as other entities may. This is just a way of saying that God's existence is necessary, not contingent Or, to put it another way, .existence is connected to God essentia11v, not contingently or accidentally. · For the moment, let us assume that the notion of a being whose existence is necessary-a being immortal in its very nature-is a possible notion. When we think about something under the mode of necessity, we usually associate with it a proposition said to be itself necessary. Bachelors are necessarily single. The proposition "Bachelors are single" is then said to be true necessarily. It is a common and plausible view to interpret this conditionthat "Bachelors are single" is true necessarily-as meaning that the denial is inconceivable, i.e. "Some bachelor is married" is inconceivable. Apply this view to the notion that God exists necessarily. The corresponding proposition, "God exists," is then necessarily true. If, then, we can form the notion of a being that exists necessarily, the proposition expressing its existence is necessarily true. To recapitulate from another direction: The condition expressed by the proposition "God does not exist" is inconceivable, because </God" means that which exists necessarily from its own nature. The opposite proposition-"God exists"-is therefore true necessarily. Hence God exists. This, I believe, is the nerve of a fresh argument that Anselm offers in Proslogium III. I believe it is a strong argument, although perhaps it does not show quite what Anselm thought it did. Let me review the new argument a third time. Any fact or state of affairs described in meaningful propositions falls presumably into one of three categories, and only one. Either it is necessary, or possible, or impossible; either it must be S0 or it mav be so, or it cannot be so. Most of what we are interest~d in falls into the middle 1 3 Cf. G. E. :tv1oore, "Is Existence a Predicate?" Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society; XV, 1936; reprinted in Plantinga. 3 �The College category. \\Thether the man in the bed is to live or die, whether there will be a sea-fight tomorrow in the Bay of Bengal, whether unicorns exist-these are all contingencies, things that may be but may also not bei and whether they will or will not can be found out only with the help of experience. It is characteristic of such things that their being so and their not being so are equally conceivable. I can conceive of the man living or dying, of the sea-fight taking place or not, etc. Anselm is arguing in ProsJogium III that the existence of God does not belong in this middle category. If it did, it should be possible for me to think of God as not existing in the same way that I can think of unicorns as not existing. But. I cannot so think of God, claims Anselm, because "existing" is a necessary part of the meaning of the term "God." Hence, if the concept of God as a necessary being is formed at all, then there is such a being. l) The first objection is very old. The claim is that by defining God as that which exists necessarily, Anselm has already presupposed God's existence; i.e. he has presupposed that which he sought to prove. But this objection simply ignores the nerve of the argument. Anselm claims that we have a concept of God as a necessarily existing being, and that unlike other. concepts this one commits he who entertains it to the conclusion that there is such a being. One can surely raise questions as to whether any concept can function in that way, and questions as to whether Anselm's concept of God is a concept at all. I will soon raise such questions. But to accuse Anselm of arguing in a circle because he sets forth a supposed concept which entails the existence of something, is merely to presuppose the answers to other questions in the theory of meaning; it does not meet his argument where it deserves to be met-on its own ground. 2) The second objection is that Anselm is again asking us to think of "existence" as a property or quality of an object, and we have seen that it is no such thing. But the advantage of his new argument in Pros]ogium III is that it does not rest on the notion of existence as a quality, but on the notion of necessary existence as a quality. \Vhether or not existence taken simply is a quality, I think necessary existence just may be a quality. If the Dean added to his list of qualities for an ideal Tutor that he should exist necessarily, we would regard him as unusually optimistic, but we would understand what he means and sympathize with it. \Vho wants a Tutor who is subject to fatigue and death? Clearly we would like to have Tutors who are indefatigable and immortal, and this not by chance, but by nature. 3) This example leads to a deeper objection. If we understand what the Dean is saying when he expresses the desire for a Tutor \Vho exists necessarih·, there must be such a concept. Consequently, on the riwdel of Anselm's own argument, the concept of such a Tutor as not existing is self-contradictory or absurd. Therefore, there is such a Tutor. Only ";here is he? 'T'his objection was 4 first raised under different terms by a contemporary of Anselm. Anselm himself was rather contemptuous of it. He argued that the concept of a necessarily existing thing of any sort except God himself, is absurd. Tutors, islands, unicorns, are a11 limited entities; by their very nature they are subject to decay and destruction. I think he is right about this. Any object thought of as extended in space is also conceivably divisible. If the idea of reducing a unicorn, an island, or a Tutor to scattered particles is a conceivable one, then nothing of this sort can exist necessarily. So the argument is saved-almost. If there is truly no concept of a Tutor existing necessarily, how did we understand the Dean when he asked for one? I suggest that when he asked for one he was not asking us to form the concept of such a one, but was only expressing his regret that no Tutor does or can exist necessarily. I am maintaining that while "necessary existence" mai' be a quality, it is not a quality- that can be added to objects arbitrarily; yet its absence can perfectly well be noticed and communicated. Let me try to sum up the situation by comparing three pairs of sentences. "There is a man who is white." "There is a man \vho is not \Vhite." I understand both sentences clearly, and the same man could at difFerent times be the subject of each. "There is a man who exists." "There is a man who does not exist." I understand the first sentence but not the second, because simple existence is not a quality at all. "There is something that exists necessarily." "There is something that does not exist necessarily." I understand both sentences, but the same entity can never be the subject of each. For the subtraction of the quality "exists necessarily" changes the nature of the subject just as surely as the subtraction of "single" changes the nature of a bachelor. Finally, then, I claim that there is no concept "Tutor existing necessarily," but there is a concept "Tutor not existing necessarily." Formal logicians will not like this view, but I believe it is consistent \\·ith ordinary usage and common sense, and therefore takes precedence. 4) \\'hile I am not about to dismiss the notion of necess;ny existence because of the strictures of certain formal fogica1 systems, there is a view which denies on reasoned grounds th8t "necessity" can be a characteristic of anything real. Briefly stated, the theory claims that necessity is. a quality of propositions o( sentences but not of existent objects or real relations. For example, "All �April 1972 bachelors arc single" is a necessar~' proposition. That it is is J consequence of the wa~· '"e use words or concepts; it reflects a decision to use the word "bachelor" to refer to the combination of two other concepts, "male" and "single." It te11s us nothing whate,·er about existent entities. 0IY the other hand, under this thtor\', anY proposition having existential significance, anY statemen-t about what is going on i.n the world, is contingent. \Vhatever h3ppens could concei,·ably not happen; ,,-hateYer comes to be could concei,·ably not conic to be (for there was a time when it was not); in brief, whateYer is is contingent and an~- proposition expressing what is is itself a contingent truth that cannot be established a priori. This theon· ma\ be called positivism. Although it goes back to 1-Iumc, it is both important and exciting. It is imporhmt because it is very widespread. It is seen in the curn:nt doctrine that eYcn· scientific account of the world is pro,·isional and uncert~1in-i.e. not necessan·-because reason can always conceive alternatives to wllat science describes; while; on the other hand, the certainties of logic;:!l deduction bring forth only rearrangements of symbols or concepts but no new knowledge of what is. And it is exciting because it opens the door to a disproof of the existence of God. For if one acknowledges with Anselm that the only concept of God worthY of the name is the concept of .a being that exists necessarilY, and if necessitv cannot be a character of any being, theTI .there can be nO God." 'There is, howe·er, something paradoxical about positiYism. Let me denote the class of true propositions about matters of fact b,· the letter E. Consider the claim that all E-proposition.s are contingent, or probable, or not necessar~·- Is this claim true of such propositions necessarily or contingently? If it is true contingcntly~if it is, say, an empirical generalization~thcn the possibility exists that there ma:· :-et be found an E~proposition which is not contingent, and Anselm's argument mm· be exhibiting just that proposition. On the other hand, sup· pose the claim about E-propositions is true necessarily. Then E-propositions are thcmseh·es a kind of thing in tl~e world, nlthough a Yer:· complex kind, and there is ~omcthing in the \Yorld about which a necessar\' truth can be known. T'his difficulty is apparent in Hume's O\Yll exposition. In the early pages of the Enquir~· Concerning Human Understanding he argues on the basis of general experience that there are no ideas in the mind which ha\T not been furnished by antecedent sensor~· imprc:·ssions. This amounts to S<lying that all our notions r~bout matters of LKt ;nc dcriYcd from .~ensory experience ~mel share the qu;ilihcs of th;1t experience not;Jb]y the qu<l1it~· of continscnc :·. So far, the cloctrinc is :lch·ancccl <-1S <1 probable nr contingent cbim .. -\ftcr noting a tin:· exception, Hume necess::1r~· ·J .J. ~. _Finclby, ··can GCJcl.) E:-:i_c-.tence be Dispron:d? .. . \find, 19-fS; •cp•m!cd m Pbnting:L · later elevates the doctrine to the status of a necessary truth, and uses it as a principle to destroy the objectivity of the concept of causality (necessary connection among cvmts in the world). He discovers that there is no sensory impression of necessary causal connection among eventS, and concludes that there can be no idea thereof because there cannot be an idea that has no senson' antecedent. J-Ie starts bv claiming that there is no such iclea, and ends bv claiming that there cannot be. It begins to look as if the claims of the positivist position do not themselves fit easih· into the account about all propositions that posi· tivists give. Against this criticism the positivist has a likelv reply. J-Ie may say that he is only speaking about concrete things in space and time, and claiming that those arc through and through contingent, both in their existence and in their relations to each other. Anv attempt to turn his doctrine onto itself by considering propositions or con· ccpts as entities in their own right he will resist, on the ground that propositions and concepts do not have any clearly discernible concrete existence in space and time; what they are may be a problem, but they are probably not things or beings at all. Consequenth', he may say, necessary truths about propositions or concepts do not in the least tend to show that there can be necessarv truths about matters of fact. But we must note that Anselm's concept of God is not the concept of a being located in space and time, for then it could not exist necessarilv. For Anselm and indeed for most theologians from PlatO onward, \vhatever functions as a fundamental ordering principle governing what is, and what is worthy, is not itself located in the world in the same \vay that other things are. 'll1e issue between Anselm and the positivist then becmnes a controversy O\'er what counts as a thing or being. The positivist would likely refuse to acknowledge propositions or a "necessary being" as beings; the more platonically-minded would insist upon it. \Vhat I am suggesting is that the positivist attack on Anselm's argument is based ultimately OP a theory of being and not on a theory of meanin.g. . . ne <:~ttack amounts to saying that there can be no such thing as God in Anselm's sense, and Anselm's argument is not really examined on its own merits. Are there "things" that are not located in space and time? It is easy to see the case for a negatiYc answer: things existing in space and time seem more accessible to us and rclatiye]y Jess puzzling than the notion of a being which is abm·e or be1m:v or alongside of space ;mel time. But we cannot settle this question by coolly dismissing the candid::1tes for such stature Cls "mere abstractions," for that just hide~ the issue under a term that is itself puzzling. There are, on the other hancl, plau5-.ib1e grounds for an offirmatiyc answer. A melody inhnbits a sequence of notes, and Jt first glance one is tempted to s2r that the melody is sharp]}· located in time. But this viCw \~'ill not stand 5 �The College up easily under pressure. How many notes can be taken away without changing the melody? At what moment in the playing of the notes does the melody come to be? \Ve speak of playing the "same" melody over again at a different time, and we think we can play it any time we choose:-at any time we choose. How, then, can the melody be rega~ded as located in a certain region of time? All o{ this suggests that a melody, whatever it is, is not quite as concrete an entity as a sjngle note played at a certain moment One might claim that the melody is a mere arrangement of notes, and that it recurs ,vhenever the same arrangement recurs. But this will not quite suffice, for there is a peculiar relation between the melody and the particular notes that it inhabits. Namely, from a certain point of vie\V the melody governs the notes; it gives them a noticeable significance that they would not have in isolation; it provides a context that alters and shapes the significance of individual notes; and in some cases one produces notes in search of a melody that is vaguely grasped, but beckoning. Even if all this be granted, why should one say that the melody is something? Because, I think, it governs or beckons; it would be odd to regard that which governs or beckons as an abstraction or dependent thing taking its existence in some peculiar way from that which it governs or beckons; it would be still more odd to say that it is nothing at alL It will be objected that this example is drawn from a highly artificial or psychological realm, I think this objection counts for nothing, because things artificial or psychological are not on that account nothing. More importantly, it will be objected that however difficult it may be to pin down a melody to a certain time, melodies nevertheless do exist in time in generaL Perhaps so. But the peculiar claims that I have been making about melodies-that they govern the particulars associated with them-can also be made about the logical forms that govern mathematical demonstrations and the so-called laws of nature that govern the universe of particulars. I would not know quite what it means to say that these things exist in time or space "in general," and I find it no more awkward to regard them as existing. "outside" time and space, governing that which exists "in" time and space. · I do not pretend for a moment to have "proved" that such things exist, or to have laid to rest the many re· spectable theories that try to reduce laws of thought and laws of nature to the realm of concrete individuals. However, Hume \Vas fond of saying, " Tis a princip1e generally received in philosophy that everything in nature is individual." 5 And Hume himself never criticises or defends that opinion; he just receives it. I think I have shown 1 that however widely received, it is certainly contestable and mav be wrong. Let ~e nO\V revie\v the state of the argument so far. 5 6 E.g., Treatise of Human Nature, Bk. I, Pt. I, Sec. VIII. Anselm has proposed that the conce-pt of G:d , c' concept of a bemg such that no more pcrln--. , , " ~ be concc1ved. Th1sleads to the notion that th, ~- ' of a bemg that exlSts necessarily. If, thc!l, u:;• ~~~ a concept, the notion that God does not e , , ••• """ -!1"111! bl e t o en t ert a~n, 1.e. G od cannot be conctivt:d !KJ<t ~, · · "'"· .. b.:r "- -,._ <;, Hence he ex1sts. The chief objections to th' ··•= Q"";.. ':,:,, rest on two doctrines: that necessity cannot b.; _....,·to~>- of am· existing thing; that anyth.ing wlud,- ;.,:;~~, concr_etc .particular. I have tned to show :lut H~ -~,_ doctrmc m turn rests on the second, and tbt the~ . 1s contestable. During the course of the disctmio;, 1 . " , ' .::f' been snggestmg somewhat vaguely that we 00 hM 't ' - .. concept of a necessary bemg, and tha: A.ns-<:!m"s l~o;:~~~ : may therefore be perfectly sound. I tum fi:di: : ..• • ""'~ objection, 5) The term "God" has been defim·d i:: :·,q, "·'''"'"' that \\'luch 1s more perfect than anything UJtho~~~ and as that which erists necessarily from its mt ; 1 twt~-- _ _ The first definition probably entails the Y.-cond. T~ difficulty is that both definitions are rather am:oe .., vague, so lacking in specific content as to raise tht' "":':•··''"~~' lion whether we really have such an idea after all merely playing with words. That the difficulty is a real one mav be seen from torical examples. Aristotle, in trying t~ elucidate the m..;:"c""'"'" cept of "pure actuality," or that which has no gnin contingency and therefore exists necessarih·, decido li:lli! it must be eternal, uncornplex, unchanging. utterly concerned with any particular being, and entirely · ble of being affected by them; its sole activity is • t!UM:• ing on thinking. This is not acceptable to Christian t~ ' .•,,. logians for obvious reasons. Anselm struggles \\1th tk problem by arguing that qualities like compassion are .nt>'l "literally" in God, but somehow proP.erly attributobk 11:1 him from a human and hence defective point of ''""'· · A whole medieval tradition of so-called negati,·e ~~ . ology was based on the notion that God can be urula•'; stood as that which lacks all defects, even thougb fl<> • ' positive concept of the corresponding perfections cooid be nailed down. Hartshorne argues that God is net worshipped for the defects he does not have, and sug,~ that the difficulty be removed by substituting a DC'Of theory of the meaning of necessary being. He claims trol or a being existing necessarily may be thought of as a bci~ totally open to the impact of concrete events, complclt~ susceptible to being affected by them, constantlr dun; ing, only in such a way that no possible event or clung: could threaten his existence. This opens the door. tc· thinking of a necessary being as compassionate. lo:.:c: and creative. It also makes it possible to understand ll"'·' the necessary being could act in time, creating a umn:-:>:. or a gift of incarnation, whereas the classical concept t.': Aristotle and others entailed that there was not and nen:' could be a moment of creation or of ·di\'ine acti,·it~· d: rected towards the lives of creatures. But then the notio:: �April 1972 of divine creatil,ity runs afoul of the logical dictum that one cannot give what one has not got, and we are turned back to the classical notion of a God who has and is everything that he will ever give. These controversies rest on the difficulty of trying to supply further content for the concept of necessary existence. It is a difficulty that I have already run into. Usuallv, we explore an unfamiliar concept of a quality by-so to speak-trying it on for size. \Ve imagine it attached to various kinds of objects to see if the attachments make sense) or we imagine it combined with other more familiar qualities to see if the combinations make sense. In Plato's Republic Glaucon, who is having trouble with the concept of justice as a quality, asks Socrates to show him the other qualities of a just man. But when I conceded that there is no positive concept of a necessariJ~· existing Tutor~ or of a -necessarily existing thing of any sort except God himself, I was conceding that the quality of necessary existence cannot be moved around like a checker in the game of logical exploration. Necessary existence is a very strange quality indeed. It parades itself as a quality that cannot be attached to any ordinary object, even tentatively, because the attachment would alter radically the nature of the object itself. And if Anselm is right, it cannot be considered in isolation from the notion of a unique being that has that quality and has no other qualities with which we are familiar. Yet the phrase "necessary existence" seems to be meaningful in some way, if for no other reason than the fact that the phrase "contingent existence" is clearly meaningfuL In such ways is the mind poised over the notion of necessary existence-which is no other than the notion of divine existence or absolute perfection. Is there such a notion? !•viy answer at this time is: Yes and no. The concept cannot be fingered, nailed down and held before the mind like other qualities; the logic of its use is elusive, precisely because it cannot be examined in isolation from questions of real existence. Yet in some wavs the mind requires it, and acknowledges it. !'den do noi exist necessarily; we know that, we understand it we often regret it. How could we say with such confidence that all particulars exist contingently had we no notion at all of some other mode of existence? There are other examples, more mundane. At various times, and howe,·cr illogicallv, little billiard balls were regarded by many as necessary beings, immortal, unbreakable, the fundamental ground for the regu1arit~· and order of the uni\·erse. No one has expounded the attracti1·cness of this notion better than Lucretius. Contr~uy to the very meaning of its n~nne, the atom gets broken, the necessary beings turn out to be contingent after all. This should have been no surprise because, as extended in space, they could no more exist necessarily than Tutors can. Still, the notion of that which is necessarih·, as an ultimate ground for the intelligibility and 1 existence of everything else, governs the mind and beckons to it. It has often been maintained, especially in America, that the pursuit of ultimate grounds is childish, and should be given up by grown men. Yet if I am to take such claims seriously I must be persuaded; evidence and argument must be offered. And then I suspect that he \vho offers evidence and argument is in that very act himself governed or lured by the flickering image of that which is so in an unqualified sense; not contingently so, or possibly so, but necessarily so; that in which one can rest a case without fear of its eventual destruction; in short, that which is necessarily. And if once again I am told that what is necessarily, is only a proposition or a truth and not a thing, I must still wonder how that which is a Jure or a governor can be denied existence. There is a passage in the Republic where Plato puts these words into the mouth of Socrates: Not only being known is present in the things known as a consequence of the good, but also existence and being are in them besides as a result of it, although the good isn't being but is still beyond being, exceeding it in . dignity and power• Glaucon, who has been listening, is both attracted and horrified. He says, "Apollo, what a demonic excess." Now Glaucon, as he appears in the dialogue, is not the smartest of men. But I sympathize with him. III It will surprise no one to see that I have not settled the question whether God exists, or whether Anselm's argument is finally sound. But let me close by stating some conclusions of which I have been persuaded by Anselm and his sympathetic commentators. First, the question of God's existence cannot be settled by straightforward deductive logic. That God does not exist cannot be proved by customary logical means, because the statement, "A necessarily existing being does not exist," is on close scrutiny either meaningless or selfcontradictory. Neither can God's existence be proved by ordinary logical routines. Anselm's argument is the only one I know of or can presently imagine that attempts to set forth something resembling the usual forms of logical proof and ending in the conclusion, "God exists." But the attempt to analyze his ~JTgument raises too many unresoh·cd problems in the nature of logic itself. The argument defies conventional modes of formal analvsis and testing, and when considered on its own merits' it calls into question m~my of the logical canons that are employed confidently for more routine kinds of arguments. 6 Steph<:inus 509b. 7 �The College Perhaps the genius of his argument is its abilit\· to force reflection upon the implicit commitments of logicians. Second, the question of God's existence cannot be settled by recourse to empirical experience. Perhaps this has always been known; certainly eyebrows are always raised at the notion of a direct empirical experience of ·God that could be known to be just that in the same way as, say, direct experience of a brick wall or a black swan. But I think Anselm has pointed the way to a fundamental reason for this suspicion. Anyone who endeavors to establish or test a proposition by observation or experience makes two claims implicitly. He claims that the 41 proposition, say, X is so," is conceivable to him. And he claims that the denial, "X is not so," is also conceivable. Otherwise the recourse to observation would either tell him nothing or it would onlv tell him what he already knows. Anselm has, I think, shown that the propoSition, "'That \vhich exists necessarily does not exist/' is self-contradictory or meaningless. And therefore neither it nor its opposite can be established empirically. Let me finally try to say where I am in this tangle. It was Anselm's conviction that the statement, "That which exists necesari1y does not exist," is absurd because the subject, "that which exists necessarily," is perfectly clear and cannot be combined with the notion "not-existing." I wonder whether it might be absurd because the subject, "that which exists necessarily," is itself without meaning. To put it another way: Anselm has convinced me that "God does not exist" is meaningless. But the remaining question, which I cannot answer, is whether "God exists" is meaningful. Robert A. Neidorf received his B.A. and M.A. degrees from The University of Chicago and his Ph.D. degree from Yale University. From 1962 to 1964 he was a Tutor at St. John's College in Annapolis. He was Associate Professor of Philosophy at the State Universit-y of New York at Binghamton, 1964-6i. He is the author of DEDUCTIVE FORMS: An Elementary Logic (Harper and Roll', 1967), a book intended to serYe either as an introduction to general logic or for a first course in symbolic logic. He joined the Santa Fe faculty of St. John's College in 1967, and was appointed Director of the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education in 1970. The Spanish Civil War* By DOUGLAS ALLANBROOK It is distressing to study wars but necessary. It is doubly distressing to look at a civil war. It would be of some comfort if one could think of them as momentary sicknesses, as abnormal growths which science, good sense, or noble passion could cut out of the body politic. I don't think it is possible to regard them as such. \Vars between nations are perhaps easier to stomach or at least sometimes seem easier to understand. Civil wars, however, bring different difficulties and lead often to blacker pessimism. Civil wars in particular force upon our attention facts which are not political, facts which cannot be understood or grappled with in terms of monarchies, republics, democracies, oligarchies, class struggles alone or economic drives. Neither political economy nor political science can deal dirccth' with these facts. Histon' can describe them from any n~mber of points of view. There are no simple "'Delivered as a lecture at St. John's College in Annapolis on May 25, 1962: 8 rational explanations of them. It is for this reason that both religion and psychology attempt to deal with them. The science of geology offers a certain analogy. Here is the surface of the earth spread before us, with its plains, mountains, deserts, and sparkling oceans. Looking at it descriptively, one plots rivers, maps mountain ranges, classifies rocks, and measures the depths of the waters. From an aeroplane one is dazzled by the prospect and grasps certain great configurations of systems of rivers, mountains, and plains. It is a great and noble panorama. Looking with still more attention at the surface of this earth, one sees and then theorizes about the rise and fall of the Rocky Mountains or the lofty Himalavas. The patient and seemingly infinite work of the rivers in can'ing out their beds, the long sculptural work of the wind and the rain, plunge one into the midst of a process of work being done. Glaciers move up and down our map which now has a fourth dimension of time. One reallr underlying fact keeps forcing itself upon our attention, �April 1972 volcanoes. Something under the surface of this earth keeps erupting. 1l1is happens sporadically in all geological time.· All rocks are, if traced back far enough, of igneous origin. This becomes a primal fact in the hard look at the earth. All volcanic eruptions are studied with intense interest. Geologists describe great volcanic periods as revolutions, borrowing a term from politics. \Vhat the middle of the earth is like can be to some degree postulated, though with little real clarity. After all we are still on the surface and can only try to be as profoundly superficial as it is possible to be. The dear and cherished configurations of our bays and inlets, our necessary and even noble maps that Don Quixote is a Spanish book, written in Spanish by a Spaniard about Spaniards removes it from our view. I cannot believe that Spaniards are essentially different from anyone else, though they like to think so. What is and geologic surveys, are now viewed not with skepticism, sweeping way it pinpoiots and delineates the characteristics of the general civil war of the IV est, which has gone on since Scholastic Theology was introduced. Aspects of but with wonder. Civil \vars are like volcanoes. They reveal the reality wh\ch is under civil life and tend to make us suspect that most of it is virtuallv unknowable. They should make us cherish whatever grasp we do have on order and to realize what a tenuous hold we have on civilization. They also, lest we get overly pious, give us glimpses of splendour. It is fatuous and inhuman not to admire courage and daring in the face of death, even if we are not in sympathy with the faction which ·brought forth the action, or the dogma which seems to cloak the action. Officially the Civil War in Spain began in the summer of 1936 and ended in the spring of 1939. In reality there had been a kind of civil war in Spain since 1812. \Vhile the battlefields of this war were in Spain, directly or indirectly every nation in Europe or America was in- volved. It was a cataclysm whose end signalled the beginning of a vaster and still bloodier cataclysm. A conservative figure of 600,000 dead is generally to be accepted. It is hard, of course, to distinguish between those dead in a battle, those beaten to death in a street-fight, or those who perished of tuberculosis in a crowded prison. Added to this figure would be, of course, as far as loss to Spain is concerned, the large number of refugees who fled their native soil at the approach of Franco's armies. This war was fought with more ferocity than most wars between nations. Thirteen bishops and 7,000 priests were murdered. The victors at the end showed no mercy. It is estimated that two million people had passed through the prisons and concentration camps of Nationalist Spain by 1942. It is also estimated that perhaps 100,000 were executed in the months following the war for crimes ranging from church burnings to merely having served in the administration of the losing side. I have chosen this war partly because it is still close to us; its only victor on either side, General Franco, still rules in Spain. Also its dimensions, while reverberating throughout the \vorld, are still fairh· small. It stirred the conscience of the world and still should. One should still say firmly that the wrong side won, without necessarily implying that the side which lost was not an almost hopeless muddle. The fact that it \\·as a Spanish war does not dismiss it from being worthy of our closest attention, any more than the fact striking is their intransigence in front of many experiences we all have. Their honesty takes the form of following either pleasure or ideals. Everyone who visited Spain during the war got his fingers burned. Those who had an active role in it from the outside were puzzled. The war seemed to prove no points of dogma for any dogmatist. Its very extremities teach us something about the civil war \vhich is in and around every one of us. In a less this inner and outer revolution we spend over half of our time studying here at this College. · Now we must look at a map. The Pyrenees separate Spain from Europe. In the middle there is a high, rocky, and sparse tableland, semi-desert in many places. This is the austere land of Castile. Around the edges it is richer, in Catalonia and in the Basque provinces. They point towards Europe and are the most prosperous and European provinces. They each have their own language. The Basques are an ancient people of unknown origin. Galicia in the North, though poorer than the Basque countries, also feels itself an entity. In the South is Andalusia, ancient center of the Moorish civilization. It has a population of serfs who have been in bondage since the days of the Roman empire. The land is somewhat richer but needs to be irrigated in common if it is to flourish. The poverty is appalling. The majority of the peasants are hired as day laborers during half the year only. They live in large villages and not in farms on the land. The land in Castile yields grudgingly a sparse crop of wbeat. It is generally not owned by those who work it. It is the most frugal and dignified province of Europe. In the North with much more rainfall peasants are better off and do usually have enough to eat. In Navarre they are all owners of their small farms in general and pass the property from father to son. They are a Spartan people and own the grazing lands in common from time im- memorial. The Basques are industrial with a large city, Bilbao, with factories and important banks. Barcelona, the capital of Catalonia, is a splendid and throbbing Mediterranean port, one of the great cities of the inland sea, the Mediterranean. Madrid was originally an artificial city, planted dead center in the middle by an autocratic king, built from nothing to be the administrative center of the country. Castile is in the middle and Madrid is in the middle of Castile. Every part of this peninsula separates itself fiercely from every other part. Portugal by accident happens to be independent. Catalonia always fought to be, and it is the perpetual running sore of Spain. There is always a fight between Barcelona and Madrid. The greatest emperor of the \Vest since Charlemagne, 9 �The College Charles the Fifth, emperor over Spain, Italy, Germany, Austria, and the Low Countries and most of America, had to spend great and delicate energy assuaging the local rights and charters of countless Spanish provinces, cities, regions and municipal communes. Though proudly feeling themselves Spaniards and always tending to regard the rest of the world as barbarians, they were seldom ever a Nation, in any of the usual senses of the word. It may recall to you the affairs on that famous little peninsula on the other end of the inland sea, Greece. I shall now undertake a brief sketch of the political parties which were important in the years immediately preceding the war. I shall not label my columns Communist and Fascist and only with some hesitation label the two columns Left and Right. Both sides have sinister aspects. fought with the left-wing students. Another party soon merged with them and to some extent swallowed them up. This was the "Falange Espanola," its name being taken from the Macedonian unit of battle responsible for the destruction of the remnants of democracy in Greece in the fourth century B.C. Its leader was a handsome young man named Jose An tonic Primo de Rivera, the son of the dictator of Spain during the twenties. He often sounded like a glib but not unintelligent undergraduate who had taken too many courses in political theory. To quote: "The state is founded on two principles-service to the united nation and the co-operation of classes." His favorite poem was Kipling's "If" which he would often read to his followers before a street demonstration. I shall read to you another of his speeches. His followers were generally high-spirited and longed for direct action. CEDA-(Confederacion Espanola de Derechas Autonomas) Catholic Party JONS-(J untas de Ofensiva Nacional-Sindicalista) Fascists and the Falange UME-(Union Militar Espanola) CARLISTS- (Traditionalists) UGT-(Union General de Trabajadores) Socialist Trade Union POUM-(Partido Obrero de Unificacion Marxisla) Troskyites PSUC-(Partido Socialista Unificado de Cataluna) Communists CNT and FAI-Anarchists The CEDA. It was a reflection of the general Catholic Action movement in Europe. It was an attempt to found a Christian Democratic party of the type that has had success in Italy since 1945. Rigid laws had been passed by the Republic in 1931 limiting the powers of the Church. This party then tried to reconcile many points of view that were not to the left. It had to get along with rich men upon whom it depended for funds, and also to try to keep the middle classes from becoming out and out defenders of the kings who had been deposed by popular mandate in 1931. It became the most powerful party for a brief period in 1933. Its leader was a slippery and ambitious man called Gil Robles. He flirted with Fascism and liked to be addressed as "jefe," a translation of "Duce" or "Fuehrer." The JONS or Fascist Party. The program of this party as announced in 1931 included denunciation of class war and the "impbcable examination of foreign influences in Spain." The program also included penalties for those "who speculated with the misery and ignorance of the people" and demanded the "disciplining of profits." Catholicism embodied for them the "racial" tradition of the Spaniards. They opposed the CEDA as reactionary. They trained and drilled on Sundays. In universities they 10 Paradise is not -rest. Paradise is against rest. In Paradise one cannot lie down; one must hold oneself up, like the angels. Very well; we, who have already borne on the road to Paradise the Jives of the best among us, want a difficult, erect, implacable Paradise; a Paradise where one can never rest and which has, beside the threshold of the gates, angels with swords. It must be noted also that the Falange was interested in faHeaching economic reform, which it called "revolutian." To quote again from jose Antonio: When we speak of capitalism we are not talking about property. Private property is the opposite of capitalism: property is the direct projection of man on his possessions; it is an essential hu~ man attribute. Capitalism has been substituting for this human property the technical instruments of economic domination. This young man was imprisoned and later shot by the government in the opening year of the war. CNT and FAI-l shall quote certain words of Bakunin, the Russian who founded the Anarchists movement. "1 shall die and the worms will eat me, but I want our idea to triumph. I want the masses of humanity to be really emancipated from all authorities and from all heroes past and present." This Russian aristocrat had a feeling for simple and independently minded people. He offered them a vision of heaven on this earth. He thought men not good by nature but good enough to live in a completely free society. His theories have many analogies in peasant villages where things are organized locally. In 1868 a man named Fanelli appeared in Madrid. Up to that time in Spain no socialist movement had taken hold. Fanelli was a comrade-in-arms of Garibaldi and a passionate admirer and disciple of Bakunin. He spoke no Spanish and addressed a group of perhaps ten men, most of them printers. By 1872, only five years later, there �April 1972 were 59,000 followers of Bakunin in Spain. The great new truths proclaimed may be summed up again: The· State, based on ideas of obedience and authority, is morallv evil. lnst~ad of this State there should be self-governing bodies, whether they be municipalities, professions, or other groupings, all of which would make voluntary pacts with each other. Criminals would be punished by public criticism. I will quote from a speech made by Jose Garcia Oliver, one of the leaders of the movement. In 1937 he was the Minister of Justice in the Spanish Republic. This must be one of the most extraordinarv statements made by any minister of the law. ~ Justice must be burning hot, jmtice must be alive, justice cannot be restricted within the bounds of a profession. It is not that we definitely despise books and lawv·ers. But the fact is that there were too many lawyers. [It may be noted that in 1937 after a year of war, perhaps 127 legal functionaries were dead. D.A.] \Vhen relations between men become what thev· should be, there will be no need to steal and 'kill. For the first time, let us admit here in Spain that political dialectic. This Anarchist movement obviously never followed the ways of Marx, the materialist. Education was one of their keynotes. Groups of Anarchists travelled in the early days of the movement like mendicant friars. Peasants were taught to read in night-schools. They were also often taught to be faithful to their wives, to avoid alcohol and coffee. In two contrasting regions of Spain they were strong and powerful. In Andalusia they would organize the "pueblos" into co-operating self suf. ficient communes. Pueblo also means People. The middle and upper class could then be thought of as not "people." This seemed a perfectly air-tight inference to the movement. In Catalonia the Anarchists attempted to organize the workers of factories into self-sufficient committees which would then deal on a level of parity with other workers' committees on questions of fqod, lodging, or even entertainment. They had no faith in prolonged bargaining. They had no strike funds. They believed in brutal, violent action. It is notable that even in 1936 there was not more than one paid official in the whole union. Their hatred and increasing separation from the middle classes often led them to include anvone in their ranks who protested. These would inclule, obviously, common criminals. When the secret organization, the Civil wars should make us cherish whatever grasp we do have on order and to realize what a tenuous hold we have on civilization. I ' I the common criminal is not an enemy of society. \Vho is there who says he dare not go out and steal if driven to it to feed his children and himself' Do not think that I am making a defence of robbery. But man, after all, does not proceed from God, but from the case, from the beast. Justice, I firmly believe, is so subtle a thing that to interpret it one has only need of a heart. This movement was and is religious in character. It had no intention of \\'aiting on or trusting in the historical means of production. Competition was a base instinct to it as it had always been to the Spanish Catholic Church. It is another of the cutting ironies that this war eYinces that the Church, which \\'as to suffer so cruelly from the Anarchist movement (their truly Satanic hatred, the Pope was to say), encouraged the very beliefs which the Anarchists clung to with such mm·ing and impossible devotion. ll1eory, devotion, passion, and blood seem more often a thing of ethos and character than of FA!, was organized in 1927, it meant that there was a secret army of shock troops in a state of perpetual war against the rest of Spain. They seemed to believe every word they read. If they murdered the Archbishop of Saragossa and attempted to assassinate King Alfonso, they were probably, with what they called the propaganda of the deed, applying literally certain words of Bakunin suggesting that the new world would be gained when the last king was strangled in the guts of the last priest. The idea of becoming a "political party" in any sense whatsoever was repugnant to them. They were not common criminals but religious dreamers. They numbered two million in 1936. Barcelona was their headquarters. The UGT. This party or union seemed often the type one sees in certain Scandinavian countries. It also has a Fabian side to it. It was centered in lv!adrid and was always in rivalry with the Barcelona-based Anarchists. It broke with the Bolsheviks in 1920. It was generally respected by the middle classes. Its two leaders were great ]] �The College rivals. One was Largo Caballero; an ex-plasterer who had been a conscientious and hard-working member of the Madrid City Council and of the Union's board. He learned to read at the age of twenty-four. He even served briefly under the dictatorship of Primo de Rivera perhaps because of his morbid fear of the Anarchists. His rival was 'Indalcio Prieto, who was bald, fat, intelligent and rich. His genuine qualities of mind are perhaps revealed by his following words which he wrote after examining papers left by Jose Antonio in his jail. Perhaps in Spain we have not examined with serenity our respective ideologies in order to dis~ cover the coincidences which were probably fundamental, and measure the divergences, probably secondary, in order to determine if the latter were worth being aired on the battlefield. This union, like the Anarchists, was also dedicated to education. From 1908 on they built countless "casa de pueblo," a sort of combined union office, free lending library, and a cafe. A typical small town square would now h·ave in it a church, the barracks of the Civil Guard, the town hall ~nd the Socialists' "casa del pueblo." It must be remembered that in Spain the number of free public libraries, apart from these, never exceeded four or five in the whole nation. The POUM. This was a Troskyite party, important in Catalonia. They believed in permanent revolution abroad and working class collectivism at home. In Spain at the outbreak of the war they outnumbered the Communists. They also hated them. By theory they were also opposed to the Socialists whom they described as "social fascists." Being forced by circumstance to ally themselves with someone, they would for tactical reasons often have dealings with the Anarchists. Their leader, Andres Nin, was imprisoned and later killed by the Communists under ghastly conditions during the war. The Communist Party. The Communist Party in Spain was deemed so unimportant in the twenties that the dictator of that epoch, Jose Antonio's father, did not even take the trouble to ban them officially. Yet their increasing importance up to the outbreak of the war and their enormous influence during the war is not to be attributed to numbers. It must be clearly borne in mind that they were in Spain, by no means, a revolutionary party. As a matter of brute fact, during the war they put an end to revolutionary activity and constantly and with success enforced a policy that there ought not to be a revolution but a defence of a legal government, whatever the metaphysical jargon on identity with the proletariat may have said to the contrary. This will become clearer when we turn to the actual events of the war. In this preliminary stage it will be sufficient to recall that they were a party of perhaps only 3,000 members in 1933. It is incorrect to think of the Church and the Army as parties, just as we had the same difficulty with the An- 12 archists. The Army was a perpetual source of power. Throughout the nineteenth century there was one "pro. nunciamento" after another. General succeeded general in the same sickening pattern which we are so acquainted with in the history of the republics to the south of us. In the decades preceding the Civil War, the Spanish Armv had shown few signs of even competence. It is perfect];· obvious that it was not a force intended to fight foreig~ wars but rather to enforce order within the borders. Its defeat in the war with this United States in 1898 lost it much of its prestige. It also suffered defeats of great humiliation in its wars with the Moroccans. However the very comradeship of defeat gave its officers a comma~ heritage. The Church in Spain in the 1930's numbered nearlr 20,000 monks, 60,000 nuns, and 31,000 priests. T11er'e were around 5,000 religious communities of which 1.008 were male and the rest female. It was estimated bv Catho. lies that perhaps two-thirds of the Spaniards at ihis time were not practicing Catholics. In some villages of the South perhaps one per cent of the men attended mass. As has been already noted, Anarchism, another faith, had in many regions taken the place of church. It must not be forgotten however that Spain once was the greatest empire since Rome. In this period it was the Church that held all together. Its theologians preached an egalitarian relation between the Sons of God on this earth. Theso doctrines were also economic. I quote from Father Juan de Mariana, writing in 1599. It is a duty of humanity for us to open to all men the riches which God gave in common to all, since to all he gave the earth as a patrimony, so that all without distinction might live by its fruits. Only unbridled greed could claim for itself this gift of heaven, appropriating as its own the foods and riches which were intended to be the property of all. ... God wishes then, and it is laid down by his laws, that now that human nature, corrupted as it is, has proceeded to a partition of common goods, they should not be monopolized by a few, and that a part should always be set aside for the consolidation of the people's infirmities .... In a Republic in which some are overstuffed with riches and others lack the very necessities, neither peace nor happiness is possible. This just and compassionate man of God was ~n no tt:~ speaking contrary to the thought of the Spamsh Ct... " in its great period. This Spanish egalitarianism,_:·~;~' spiritual; it detested the bonds of commerce and. ,.o ... It resisted the material forces of this world and 1" .r"' lain respects it is a loftier concept of "democr:JCI · ~'.::. is ours in this country. Their understanding of dcmCd-'-: is impractical I stress entirely impractical. Hmrcr·c:. '": practibility d~es not imply impossibility. T11is unde:,::.no- �April 1972 ing of democracy scorns the use of the word "progress" and finds "technology" uninteresting. One must be care- · ful of the use of the word democracy; this Spanish understanding is not ours, and ours is not the same as People's Democracies. The understanding of the uses of this word is one reason for this lecture. In" 1837 the Liberals in Spain succeeded in confiscating manv of the lands of the Church. These liberals were entran~ed with the new ideas of Europe and wished to introduce the notions of Adam Smith. The result was to sell the lands to profiteers and speculators. Partly as a result of this, the Church began consolidating its monev into banks and commercial undertakings. Rome was aiso interested in keeping at least one nation in Europe free from liberal atheism. Much building went on. "Money is very cat11ohc'·· became a common saying. Two quotati"ons from the Spanish Church's catechism of 1927 may indicate the character of at least part of the Church. The question "what kind of sin is committed by one who votes for a liberal candidate" was answered by "Generally a mortal sin." The answer to "Is it a sin for a Catholic to read a liberal newspaper" was "He may read the Stock sincere thanks to your Excellency for Spain's Catholic Victory." Despite this, it must be noted that the Vatican did not condemn the Basque priests as heretics, which was Franco's ardent desire that they should. There remains one other party to talk of, the Carlists. Their stronghold was in the Pyrenees' valleys of Nav~rre. The modern had penetrated not at all to this regwn. The king they sought was a pretender, not even the king that had been recently deposed. Their ideas on politics were rudimentary. The leader of this party in the Cortes (Count Rodenzo) was once asked who would be Prime Minister if the king returned. "You, or one of these gentlemen," replied the Count, "It is a matter of secretaries." "But what should you do?" "I," said the Count, "I should stay with the King and we should talk about hunting." Th.eir motto was "Dios, Patria, e Rey." However there was nothing fraudulent about their deep religious disavowal of the modern world. Their sincerity is no more to be doubted than that of the Anarchists. They fought with classic Spartan heroism during the war. There would sometimes be three generations of the same family on the front. One must be careful of the use of the word democracy; this Spanish understanding is not ours, and ours is not the same as People's Democracies. The understanding of the uses of this word is one reason for this lecture. Exchange News." The shooting of priests and the burning of churches was most often done by working class people infuriated by a priest's flagrantly contradicting Christ's teachings on poverty and hypocritically showing himself to be a respecter of well-born persons. The decline of the Church snuffed out not one iota of the uncompromising intensity it had instilled in the souls of its communicants. What the Pope called "satanic hatred" is by the same token a harvest of the faith. In the French Revolution one is struck by the courage and integrity of the priests. Time and time again they would risk their lives to bring the sacraments to the people. In Spain this was sadly lacking. The notable exception to this was in the Basque proYinces. Indeed Franco found it necessarv to exile or imprison Basque priests for their loyalty to' his enemies. Sixteen of them were executed by the Rebels. At the end of the war Franco received a telegram from the new Pope PJUs XII saying "Lifting up our heart to God, we give Let us trace as briefly as possible the course of events from 1931 to the outbreak of the war in 1936. There were three sets of elections, 1931, 1933, and 1936. Primo Rivera, the dictator from 1923 to 1930, had been deposed and he was succeeded by a year of tight-rope walk· ing by that giddy but not unintelligent king, Alfonso XIII. Elections were forced upon him for a variety of com· plex reasons and his followers were defeated despite an enormous amount of dirty work at the polls. His last words publicly to his people were as follows: Sund~rv's elections have shown me that I no longer. enjoy the love of my people. I could very easily find means to support my royal prerogatives against all-comers, but I am determmed to have nothing to do with setting one of my countrvmen against another in a fratricidal civil war. Thus, until the nation speaks, I shall delib- 13 �The College erately suspend the use of my Royal Prerogatives. The import of this message is somewhat puzzling though undoubtedly serious. This new Republic was in part the creation of the generation of '98. Many of them were men of deep seriousness and intelligence. They often made speeches and then accused men and Fate because what they said had little effect. The elections were won simply through a defect and disruption of all of the old powers of Church, Army, and Civil Service. All of the conservative forces would have accepted it if it had changed nothing except the form of the government, in other words if it did nothing. This was impossible. Things were too badly disrupted. It must be remembered also that the Anarchists by theory resisted government. The people themselves, in all of the deep misery of their poverty, rightfully expected something from an election in which they had put a government in power. This "government" as constituted was not socialist. Both Caballero and Prieto were ministers but they were satisfied for the time being with reforms to be accomplished by the process of law. No program of agrarian reform was instituted immediately. Instead the government turned immediately to the obsession of the Liberals, the separation of Church and State. This action only alienated sections of the country and avoided the deep and glaring questions of the peasants and the land. Soon there were outbreaks all over the face of the country. At the same time the Anarchists burned some churches. The government naturally called on the Guardia and the Army. There were some minor massacres and much blood. Part of the pre-election agreements had included provisions for granting Catalonia virtual autonomy. This exasperated every centralist who wanted Spain to be one. 11Vith an incredible indifference to what was appropriate, they introduced drastic reforms into the Army and the Civil Service. They retired many generals at full pay, giving them adequate means and time to plot against the regime. · New elections were called for in 1933 and they swung the government in the other direction. The CEDA, which I previously talked of, now comes to the fore. They won a sweeping victory at the polls. They won because the workers and the peasants were disgusted that nothing or not enough had been accomplished by the previous government. Ladies had the vote because of the reforms of the previous government and mostly voted as their confessors instructed them. The separation of Church and State was repealed. The Army was increased. Any agrarian measures already passed were castrated. In early October of 1934 a ·kind of revolution was declared. The UGT called for a general strike in Madrid. The Anarchists, their enemies, did not participate. The government put it down and the socialist leaders were in prison by nightfall. In Barcelona the opportunity was taken to proclaim 14 a more independent Catalonia. TI1e Anarchists held themselves aloof here also. This was also put down by the government. In the mining region of the Asturias, however1 the rising had enormous temporary success. It was carefully prepared by tough-minded and well-organized miners. There were arms and dynamite and committees. Timidity gave way suddenly to violence, traversing no middle ground. \1Vorkers' soviets were organized. It was a heroic moment for the working class. The amount of co-operation surprised everyone and even caused the Anarchists to stop and consider untheoretically for once the possible uses of organization. Anarchists, Socialists, and Troskyites got together under the slogan of UHP (Union de Hermanos Proletarios.) (Union of 1\'orking Class Brothers.) Even the Communists were involved through you may recall their number was very small. A bishop's palace was burned and several priests shot. There was ·enormous public· excitement and enthusiasm. The government took severe measures. Generals Goded and Francisco Franco were made chiefs of staff. These two generals asked for the African Foreign Legion and certain Moorish troops. They were immediately successful. After fifteen days it was all up. One of the conditions of the surrender was that the Moors and the Foreign Legion be withdrawn. They were not, and behaved as if they were a conquering army living off suffering. One thousand three hundred thirty died and 30,000 were wounded on the civilian side. There were few casualties on the side of the Moors and the Legion. Indignities and bestial tortures were common. It may also be interesting to recall that the Asturias was the only section of Spain never to have been conquered by the Moors when they overran the Peninsula in the seventh and eighth centuries. It was at this time that Caballero in prison began reading Marx. He began to envisage himself as a Spanish Lenin. He was almost seventy, a man up till then noted for his caution and respect for legitimate reform. Prieto, the other leading Socialist, had fled to France, having disapproved of the rising against the government. After the Asturias revolt, civil war seemed inevitable to many. To have prevented it would have called for genius and energy which rarely, if ever, can be found. A great public scandal involving a new type of roulette wheel called the "straperlo" now erupted. Vast profits had been promised to government ministers. The American Ambassador in Madrid at that time reports that at a certain moment in a debate at the Cortes, Jose Antonio leaned over a balcony, aflame with mischief and youthful disgust with corruption and yelled "viva Straperlo." You might imagine this better if you were to conceive of a 1ong and exhausting session of the l\1aryland Legislature being interrupted by one of its youthful members crying, "Hurrah for Slot-Machines," and if in addition the young man was the head of youthful and increasingly violent groups of street gangs. The government fell. It was the twenty-sixth govern- �April 1972 ment crisis since 1931. Seventy-two ministers had served in one or other of the cabinets. The feeling towards democracy was perhaps something like that of the French in 1958 after fifteen years of the Fourth French Republic. In February 1936 new elections were held. The "Frente Popular" won. This Popular Front was an alliance between liberal Republicans and Socialists, Anarchists, and Communists. It was clearly understood that all groups would be free again once the election was over. Part of the victory may be attributed to the Anarchists giving up part of their dogma. Up to now they had by theory abstained from participation in elections. The Asturias revolt had taught them the value of co-operation. \\lith the possibili!:J• of power in their nostrils, practicality entered to some degree. The Communists were behind the Popular Front also. The\• had previously, in defiance of principles, co-operated with the Anarchists, next with the Socialists, and now even with the Republican liberals. The prc\·ious August in 1\loscow, Dimitrov, a Bulgarian who was general secretary of the Comintern, defined the aims of world communism in the face of the threat posed by Hitler to the Soviet Union. I quote: The formation of a joint People's Front providing for joint action with the Social Democratic themselves. Caballero, intoxicated perhaps by Communist flattery, talked about the dictatorship of the proletariat. His rival in the party, Prieto, was in violent opposition. Peasants in many parts of the country began expropriating the land of absentee landlords and dividing it up amongst themselves. Generals began to get together and plot, especially Generals Mola and Franco. Franco was sent to the Canary Islands as governor. The older party of the right, the CEDA, seemed increasingly powerless · and Calvo Sotelo, a handsome and ruthless Monarchist, emerged as a polarizing leader. Four months after the election there seem to have been 160 churches burnt and 269 political murders; sixty-nine political centers had been wrecked. There had been 113 general strikes and ten newspaper offices had been sacked. All kinds of groups were out drilling on Sundays. The Falange, which seemed to have been an enthusiastic group of upper class boys under the guidance of a handsome fellow who liked poetry and political theory, became increasingly violent. It was outlawed by the government and some of its leaders imprisoned. The generals had already begun a flirtation with the Fala·nge. It seemed the part of expedience to have some party dedicated to violence with which to meet the increasing violence of the Left. The older members of the Falange did not like the alliance. \Vere What the Pope called "satanic hatred" is by the same token a harvest of the faith. parties is a necessity. Cannot we endeavor to unite the Communist, Social Democratic, Catholic, and other workers. Comrades, you will remember the ancient tale of the capture of Troy. The attacking army was unable to achieve victory until, with the aid of the Trojan Horse, it penetrated to the very heart of the enemy camp. \Ve, revolutionary workers, should not be shy of using the same tactics. This was a policy which gave a cheap Machiavellian thrill to many persons at that time and now. One could have one's cake and also be clever. In Spain, however, the Communists \\~ere still too insignificant for their actions to be important. The Spanish Popular Front would have won easih· without them. The n~w government was formed again of liberals. The working class parties began immediately to fight among not the Army and the Church and the old forces of sterility the very forces which the new unified and strong Spain should abhor? Again chances for action easily overpowered both ideas and ideals, or at least left them smouldering under the surface. Jose Antonio wrote a Jetter to a general quoting as usual from a book, this time Spengler: "After all, in the last resort, it has always been a platoon of soldiers who have saved civilization." The Republic failed because it could not from both ineptitude and inability and principle compromise or walk a middle ground between Right and Left. The President of the Republic, Azana, an austere and eloquent man who in other times and places would have been a writer, from the reaches of the Presidential palace reSected that the Spanish working classes were "raw material for an artist." To one journalist he remarked that the Cortes was one big cafe. To another journalist he remarked: "Sol y sombre. Light and shade; That is Spain." 15 �The College It is to be noted that seats in Spanish bull rings are named either Sol or Sombra, according to whether they are shaded on not. On July 13, Calvo Sotelo, the Monarchist leader, was shot by members of the official troops of the government in reprisal for the shooting of one of their members by the Falangists. It, with reason, seemed to the right, and perhaps not only to the right, that the government could not control even its own agents. On the 17th of July the generals began their rising and the civil war began. There was a big surprise in store for the generals. The workers, small people and peasants who may have quarrelled among themselves when their government was unchallenged, rose in fury when it was challenged. What the Socialists and the Anarchists by themselves could not achieve, was accomplished in one day by the revolt of the generals. North Africa was immediately under the control of the Rebels and Franco flew in from the Canary Islands to take charge there. In Spain itself General ]Viola had immediate success in a much smaller area than envisagedroughly Burgos, Salamanca, Navarre, and Saragossa. Seville was taken with great bloodshed by a bragadoccio of a general, Queipo di Llano. The Basque provinces remained Joyal and found themselves an island surrounded by rebel territory. Andalusia was plunged overnight into the most violent of revolution, as was Catalonia. The revolt failed completely in the greatest cities of Spain-Madrid, Barcelona, Valencia and Bilbao. Neither side really had either proper equipment, material, or soldiers to fight a long war. Both sides immediately sought for help from abroad. Franco and Mala had at ]east the Foreign Legion, Moorish troops, about two-thirds of the Guardia Civil and a good part of the regular army. The Moors and the Legion were, however, for a while, the only effective troops. The government had some of the regular troops. It was forced by the people in the first days of the revolt to give arms to the Anarchists and the Socialists. It was loath to do so and its delay was nearly fatal. The government had in its hands the only two industrial centers of importance, Bilbao and Barcelona. It had also the gold reserve of the Bank of Spain which, interestingly enough, was the sixth largest reserve in the world. Much or all of this later went to Soviet Russia as payment for arms. The government had practically no reserves of arms. The equipment was dangerously antiquated. There were few trained technicians on either side. The air force on both sides was in a parlous state. The chapter of this war on how much and under what conditions foreign aid was received on both sides is of fantastic complexity. Let it suffice to say at this point that Franco almost immediately received aircraft and equipment and pilots from both Hitler and Mussolini. He was able to transport across the straits from Africa the only crack troops existing. It must also be noted that 16 from the beginning of the revolt until the end of the war he was given unlimited credit by the Texas Oil Company. The head of the Popular Front government in France, Leon Blum, was immediately in sympathy with the government and wished to send airplanes and material in abundance. Members of this government were opposed to any embroilment and the English, France's most reliable ally, were in general opposed. The English were involved in a delicate dance with both Hitler and Mussolini which culminated in Munich. A diplomatic minuet, entitled a Non-Intervention Pact, was set up by all interested parties. This group of diplomats continued to meet throughout the war. In practice what happened was that both Italy and Germany shipped increasing amounts of aid and men to Spain and blatantly ignored or effectively reduced to talk any non-intervention on their own part. Russia was in a tight bind, and was a member of the Pact. Allied to France,. on the one hand, out of fear of Hitler, and with the spectacle of a genuine revolution on the other, she finally began to ship increasing amounts of war material to Spain. The Russians instructed their agents to carefully curb the revolution and to make every effort to preserve parliamentary democracy. The Russians then could claim to be the only foreign government which aided Spanish democracy. Stalin probably calculated that to send enough to win the war would have embroiled him in a general war with Germany and Italy, and the Germans and the Italians probably felt the same. It is in a way the spectacle of neither Russia on the one hand nor the Germans and the Italians on the other really wanting their side to win. They did want to prevent their protegees from losing, however. "Yes, my darling daughter, hang your clothes on a hickory limb, but don't go near the water." After Munich, however, this changed. Germany found it could get away, quite literally, with murder, and Russia moved towards an alliance with Hitler. The policy of talk, talk, talk, on the part of England and France proved nearly disastrous for them; especially as the opponents were doing more than talking. This situlion was reflected internally in the political sketch I gave of Spain in the years preceding the war-namely the liberal parliamentarians of the Spanish Parliament could neither muster the strength nor effectively promulgate any program which would curb the rising tides of violence. The first great action in the war was Franco's march north and east to the gates of Madrid. The northern troops under the command of Mala struck south down through the heights of the Guadaramma where they were stopped. By September 3 Franco had taken the last town of any consequence before Madrid. Rather than describing in detail many battles, it is now of interest to see as closely as can be seen from the most dispassionate eyewitnesses to these events, what the war and revolution was like in towns and countryside on both sides. Let us begin in Barcelona and Catalonia. The An- �April 1972 archists took over effective control almost immediately. \ \1hile the government of Catalonia remained, effective· control was taken by the people directly. Almost every church was burnt. One eye witness reports that this was done sometimes in an almost pious way. It was a duty to be fulfilled and a fire engine was waiting circumspectly at the scene to prevent the fire spreading to neighboring buildings. All owners of factories were either killed or fled. Hotels, banks, stores, street-car lines were all requisitioned or closed. l\Ianaging committees of former workers or technicians were in charge. No one in the streets wore a necktie, and Spain is generally in its large cities almost offensively elegant and dandy-ish. Orwell speaks of barber shops with signs solemnly announcing that barbers are not slaves. Prostitutes were urged by large colored posters to stop being prostitutes. The CNT ordered all of its workers to work. The middle classes were amazed at the sense of responsibility. It certainly was the only time in history that Anarchists controlled a great city. The part\· had radio stations, newspapers, and endless periodicals. Certain of the Anarchists saw this as a decay-their leaders were sullying the purity of the movement by becoming interested in power. By the following March everyone who visited the city noted an immense change. It was a city of terror. The Anarchists were losing control. The POUM was being was never imputed to his wife. One village abolished the 1 greeting 'A Dios" because, as they said, "there is no more God in Heaven." A story of this time which proves no political point except perhaps the fundamental one is that of a young girl who after the burning of her convent had to find a more suitable garb than a nun's habit. She found a dress covered with sparkling sequins which fitted her. On arriving back at her village, many miles from the city, she . was stoned to death by the villagers as her dress obviously seemed to be that of a prostitute. The revolution in Andalusia was, if anything, even more brutal and extreme. The rebel armies were in several of the large cities. A kind of urgency for blood was evidenced. The villages were isolated from one another. The lines of the two sides were irregular. In some villages the puritanism of the Anarchist movement had such effect as to not only abolish money, but went so far as to close the village bar and to prohibit tobacco. Franz Borkenau upon visiting such a village comments that their hatred of the upper class was far less economic than moral. "They did not want to get the good living of those they had expropriated, but to get rid of their luxuries, which seemed to them so many vices." However, here as in many other parts of Spain, the gap between ideals and reality was enormous. The putting In order to persuade, you would need what you lack: Reason and Right in the struggle. persecuted, a civil war within a civil war was raging. On the streets the people again wore elegant suits and neckties and the prisons were full, not of prisoners from the front, but of political prisoners. The Communist party was assuming more and more power. In the countryside of Catalonia the Anarchists took over as they had· in Barcelona. They wanted to organize the land in common, to try to abolish the use of money (an unclean thing), and to procure the objects needed from the outside world by direct exchange with the trade unions of the city. However, there was in th~~ry no central control and the regular Catalan government was not prepared to initiate such a policy, and certainly not the increas~ ingly pmYerful Communist party. Every village had its own committees, howeyer, and guarded fiercely its newly won liberties. Generally the priest and his strongest adherents, the la\\")"tr and his son, the squire and the richest peasants, stood a good chance of being shot. \\'omen and children were almost never shot and a husband's guilt into effect of one's good intentions had sometimes nothing to do with the satisfaction felt in merely having such intentions. It must also be said that often the schemes worked remarkably well. Peasants would voluntarily cooperate and raise more food than ever raised. Many factories in Barcelona improved production. This is by no means to be explained away by the euphoria of the first months of the war. Something seemed to well up which was native to the customs and instincts of the people. Madrid looked differently than Barcelona. It seemed on the surface an ordinary city in time of war. It was re~ bellious rather than revolutionary. It must be remembered that Madrid is the center of the Socialist party, which had long habits of working legally and with a central committee. There was perhaps more hidden terror and accusations and counter-accusations than in Barcelona where the enemies had at first been so quickly and ruthlessly dealt with. There were no beggars on the streets of Barcelona whereas Madrid was full still of both beggars and 17 �The College rich. The militia was much better organized here and the Communists had already formed their famous and courageous Fifth Regiment. Another aspect evidenced particularly on the Republican side, might be called an absence of pathological excitement. There seemed to be no great upheavals in the sex life of the country, such as is often noted in other wars. \Vomen, for example, for almost the first time in Spain, participated on the Republican side in all kinds of activities, even as far as fighting with the militia. They were almost universally respected. There was a lack of any psychological crisis. This is perhaps another of the things which cause us to pause and reflect on the nature of this civil war. Whether we phrase this in the classic terms of ' idion" and ukoinon," the individual and the common thing in politics, or in terms of psychological adaptation, we are merely looking at two aspects of the same and perpetual problem of man as social. Despite the fact of a dreadful and bloody civil war and centuries of unbelievable mis-government and insult, dignity was not destroyed, nor was poise of individuals. Ethics re1 mained. cOurage, honour, and a resurgent honest}' were not blotted out. were much more common than on the other side. \Vives and daughters of offenders were sometimes raped or had their heads shaved. Bodies were often left exposed for days to the public gaze. The working class had to be terrorized before any general could creep into bed at night and sleep with any sense of security. The Church insisted merely that those killed should be allowed to confess. One priest on Majorca said "Only ten per cent of these dear children refused the last sacrament before being despatched by our good officers." Occasionally a more kind-hearted official would arrange to have a good supply of wine on hand so that those about to die might drown their despair in drunkenness. Often prisoners dug their own graves before being shot in them. It is certain that General Franco gave orders that no appeals for mercy were to reach him until after the execution of the sentence. General Mola, after a while, declared himself inconvenienced by the bodies on the roadside and the executions then occurred more discreetly. The Falange seemed not so given to such works, but rather they were the doings of the generals or of the old parties of the right. It must not be thought that the Falange was in power, however, despite the fact that every- Those who find in these words merely excess, or merely propaganda, or who can with obvious facility destroy the meaning with logic, can never hope to understand politics. The character of the rebellious half of Spain, henceforth to be known as Nationalist Spain, was completely military. The lowest of corporals had things easier. Martial law took over the complete administration of justice. Everyone was investigated, especially administrative and judicial officers. They had, obviously, to be completely pliant to the will of the military. One heard such taunts constantly as "Those who don't wear uniforms should wear skirts." Only two movements or parties were allowed, the Falangists and the Carlists. All members of Popular Front parties, all members of Masonic lodges, all members of trade unions, and even in. many regions all who had voted for the Popular Front, were arrested and many of these shot. A strike was punishable by death. The number of executions was enormous, though it seemed to vary somewhat according to the desires of the local commanders. Certainly every provincial governor or official, if appointed by the Popular Front, was executed. Atrocities 18 one for a variety of reasons clamored to join its ranks. \Nilly Messerschmidt, a German aircraft manufacturer visiting Spain in August, commented that the Falange seemed to have no particular aims or ideas. "They seemed merely young people for whom it is good sport to play with fiream1s and round up Communists and Socialists." The cities in Nationalist Spain were strangely silent. Posters of the Falange covered whole sides of buildings saying "The Falange calls you, now or never. There is no middle course. \\lith us or against us." The Carlists had also large posters which announced: "Our Flag is the only True Flag. The Flag of Spain, always the same." As a matter of fact it was a big issue as to whether the flag should be that of the l\1onarchy or that of the Republic. The Falange became increasingly Catholic. It become obligatory for the regular Falangist to attend mass, confess, and take Communion. The propagandized ideal became for men, half-monk, half-warrior, and for ladies a �April 1972 kind of combination of Saint Teresa and Isabella, the Catholic Queen. This was a marked change from the earlier character of the Falange. Only one bishop, the Bishop of Vitoria, showed any reluctance in supporting the movement. Some priests actually fought and the chief of Nationalist propaganda was the fanatical Fr. Ysurdiaga. It should not be forgotten that the Inquisition had only been abolished in Spain in 1837, and that it was one of the aims of the Carlists to restor.e it. Their periodicals had described it as: "That most august tribunal, brought down by angels from heaven to earth." It is also to be noted that Franco would often give propaganda-like positions to Falangists so that they might feel the image of power without having any. Carlism looked only to the past. It wanted neither glory and certainlv not prosperity. They promised only "order" and respect for "hierarchies." The Falangists, on the other hand, as we have seen from Jose Antonio's speeches, were exuberant and drunk on future glon·. Supreme order in the past or supreme order in the future and reality and present fact, namely General Franco, 1·ery much in the present. \Ve have then a civil war within a ci\'il war also on the right. Obviously reality won this war. Franco finally formed a party with the jaw-breaking title of the "Falange Espanola Tradicionalista Y de las Juntas de Ofensiva Nacional-Sindicalista." The title included both the Falange, the Carlists, the old JONS. It satisfied no one while paying lip-service to all. Jose Antonio's teachings, such as they \Vere, were gradually sluffed off and he was made into the Saint, the martyred saint of the Nation. This young man's bones were taken, after the war, from a common graveyard in Alicante where he had been shot, and after a torchlight procession of three hundred miles they were interred in the Escorial, the austere palace of Philip the Second and the tomb of the Spanish kings. His bach·, his photographs, and his memory became official symbols. An earnest, stron_g, and even honest man, Hedilla, 1vas the last independent leader of the Falange. He showed resistance to Franco. After some months of sordid intrigue which can interest only those with debased lvlachiavellian tendencies, Hedilla was removed from office and Franco w~s proclaimed "jefe" or chief of the partY. Hedilla was placed in solitary confinement in the Canan· Islands and had no one to talk to except his Jesuit confessor. It was hoped he might rot to death. His wife went insane during this period and ended her dars in an asdum. Hedilla resisted. He was a strong man, and in 1941 he was moved to comfortable quarters. Most of the most prominent intellectuals of pre-war Spain were on the Republican side. They \\·ere mostly of the famous "Generation of '98" and had assisted at a re\'ival, and a genuine reYival, of thought and integrity in Spain. They signed a manifesto supporting the Republic. The \'iolenee of the early days and the increasing influence of Communists caused manv of them to flee the countrv. Ther had all had much to do with the foundations of tlie Republic in 1931. Unamuno, the most noted Spanish philosopher, stayed on the Rebel side in what he called "its struggle for civilization against tyranny." He was the author of a book which some of you may know called The Tragic Sense of Life. I shall quote from the opening of this book. He says he is interested in: The man of flesh and bone-the man who is born, suffers and dies, the brother. There is another thing which is called man and he is the subject of not a few elucubrations more or less scientific. He is the legendary featherless biped, the Zoon politikon of Aristotle, the social-contracter of Rousseau, the economic man of the Manchester economist, the homo sapiens of Linnaeus, or ·if vou like, the vertical mammal. A man, in brie(who is only an idea. That is to say, a no-man. The man we have to do with is the man of flesh and bone-!, you, the reader, all of us who walk solidly on the earth. And this concrete man is the supreme object of all philosophv. Man should be better defined as an affective or feeling animal. It fits better than to call him a rational animal. More often have I seen a cat reason than laugh or weep. Man has immortal longings and finds them real; they are the necessities of the heart and the will. His book ends with the words "And may God deny you peace, but give you glory." He tries to solve the problem which cannot be solved-man's agonized desire to be assured of personal immortality. There is no such assurance, but out of the agony comes the energy of our soul. By October Unamuno had changed his mind. On October 12 there was a great ceremony held in the hall of the University of Salamanca. In the 'chair was Unamuno, in his position as rector of the University. Also present was the provincial governor, Mrs. Franco, the Bishop of Salamanca, and lvlilan Astrav, a much-wounded, violent and somewhat pathological ~an who was head of the Foreign Legion. He led off the proceedings with a violent attack on Catalonia and the Basque provinces, calling them "cancers in the body of the nation. Fascism, which is Spain's health-giver, will know how to exterminate both, cutting into the live healthy flesh like a resolute surgeon free from false sentimentality." Someone at the back of the hall piped up with "Viva la Muerte" or "hurrah for death," which was General Astray's motto. Then there followed the usual clenched fists ;nd cries of Spain-One. Certain people saluted the sepia portrait of Franco which hung behind the podium. Unamuno rose and spoke as follows. I quote: All of vou are hanging on my words. You all know nle and are aware that I' am unable to remain silent. At times to be silent is to lie. For silence can 'be interpreted as acquiescence. I want 19 �The College to comment on the speech-to give it that name-of General Milan Astray, who is here among us. Let us waive the personal affront implied in the sudden burst of vituperation against the Basques and the Catalans. I was myself, of course, born in Bilbao. The Bishop [and Unamuno here pointed to the quaking prelate at his side], whether he likes it or not is a Catalan from Barcelona. Obviously there was a silence as of the tomb. No one had raised his voice in such a manner in Nationalist Spain. He went on: Just now I heard a necrophilous and senseless cry: "Long Live Death." And I, who have spent my life shaping paradoxes which must have aroused the uncomprehending anger of others, I must tell you, as an expert authority, that this outlandish paradox is repellent to me. General Milan Astray is a cripple. Let it be said without any slighting undertone. He is a war invalid. So was Cervantes. Unfortunately there are all too many cripples in Spain just now. And soon there will be even more of them if God does not come to our aid. It pains me to think that General This was his last lecture. The professor of Canon t,,. had the courage to go out arm in arm with his r . -· ·and interestingly on the other arm was Mrs. Franc:·ll; remamed under house arrest until his death of a b•oL: heart on the last day of 1936. · "" With Franco's armies at the gates of l\!adrid the Republic seemed doomed. The early revolutiona~· suttn, and the herOIC work of people's militias was not -suffi:ic"! to fight the Rebels who were being increasingh· ann,.-' by Hitler and Mussolini. A revolutionarv mm·cn;<">t b~ fought well as guerillas (a Spanish word; vou mas· note\. Their greatest mistake was in not consolidating the rt:'.-om. tion in the country. If the peasants had been asrurcd a£ any real policy of land tenure or as was ne=son· gisot the nature of the land, effective collectivization, tfoc rn<> lution would have been clinched and Franco would lua had the solid resistance, the continued resistance of tL-:: villages. This program was fudged. The socialists still cb liked the anarchists, the liberals were afraid. and "'''"' one realized that the only nations thev could hope w gain aid from, would be frightened by the prospc-~t. ,\, it was, given the farce of the non-intervention pact. only Soviet Russia helped and it was by no meam a "".,m,. tionary country any longer. Help they did, howt:'.-a, and the whole world was galvanized by the defence of l\bdrid. In the end the mask of reality and the present fact of power conquered. Milan Astray should dictate the pattern of mass psychology. A cripple who lacks the spiritual greatness of a Cervantes is wont to seek ominous relief causing mutilation around him. General Astray could not hold himself back at this point and shouted out another of his slogans "Abajo la Inteligencia" [Down with Intelligence]. Much public support and hand-clapping in the audience. Unamuno went on. This is the temple of the intellect. And I am its high priest. It is you who profane its sacred precincts. You will win, because you have more than enough brute force. But you will not convince. For to convince you need to persuade. And in order to persuade, you would need what you lack: Reason and Right in the struggle. I consider it futile to exhort you to think of Spain. I have done. 20 Franco had already made up his lists of those to be >h« and had trucks of food ready to feed the ci,·ili:m P"i""' lation. The Radio in Lisbon had alreadv broadcast a description of Franco's entrance into Madrid on a sdut<: horse. In such a crisis the working class leader.; cnh:'!cd the government with no surprise on am·one's part. h..., the Anarchist, Garcia Oliver, whose speech I read to Y"" earlier. The Anarchists' paper spoke of it as "the m::n! transcendental day in the political historv of the <;"'-'"' try." A wise Anarchist father, whose daughter l>":u ~' sumed the portfolio of Minister of Health. told Ins <De.;'·· ter that this meant the liquidation of Anarch~:".':."()~"'~' in power you \Vill not rid yoursel\'es of power. 1 IJC f.-~· ernment itself, under the leadership of CabJll<;:.•. ~· cided it would be safer in Valencia, \\'hich indcn! :: ·-·-"· and the Communists remained, confident. rn- 1 ~::~·;~:... and courageous. That extraordinary w.oman kno\~-n :u L! Passionaria broadcast daily on the radw. . . • ,. _. A fantastic battle ensued. On the rebel SJde """ ·• '"" �April 1972 equipped modern army of only about 20,000 troops, mainly Moors, and the Foreign Legion. They were backed by German and Italian tanks and aircraft. On the other side was the populace of Madrid. It must not be said that the battle was gained by the entrance of the International Brigades. It would have been lost without them and they fought with the greatest of heroism. But it was the victory of the people of Madrid. A Republican deputy on the night of November 8, proclaimed on Madrid Radio: Here in Madrid is the universal frontier that separates Liberty and Slavery. It is here in Madrid that two incompatible civilizations undertake their great struggle: love against hate, peace against war, the fraternity of Christ against the tyranny of the Church-this is Madrid. It is fighting for Spain, for Humanity, for Justice, and, with the mantle of its blood, it shelters all human beings. Madrid, Madrid. In the spring of 1937 the process of revolution was everywhere being slmved down by Caballero~s government. The local committees of political movements in the villages were being replaced by regular municipal councils. Nationalization of foreign firms was stopped completely and the other factories were being harassed which were still under workers committees. The Communists became the heart and soul of the resistance to Franco. It must be granted to them the organization of a skillful armv and more effective centralization. The war could not hav~ been fought without them and no other nation helped. They demanded the suppression of many parties and Caballero could resist only to a point. The POUM or Troskvites were thrown to the lions and their leader Nin was" assassinated in prison. It must be remembered that in the Soviet Union at this time the most far-reaching bureaucratic purges were being carried on. The Communists were entirely totalitarian in spirit-their appetite for power was insatiable and they were unscrupulous. One writer compares their actions to that of the Jesuit misThose who find in these \VOrds merely excess, or merely sionaries in China during the seventeenth century, who, propaganda, or who can with obvious facility destroy the meaning with logic, can never hope to understand politics. It might be further said that they are not worthy of understanding such affairs which deal with life and with death. A fierce battle was waged within the University City, a group of neiv buildings which had been one of the prides of King Alfonso. There were fights with no quarter given. Often one found the International Brigades, with all their babel of tongues, fighting in these halls the Foreign Legion, the slogan of whose founder was "Down With Intelligence." (Durutti, the fanatical leader of the Anarchists in Catalonia in the early days, was killed near the University City. He had preached a new doctrine in the last months of "the discipline of indiscipline''-in other words, participation in government. It is sometimes thought that he may have been killed by one of the "uncontrollables" who wished to retain the pure faith of anarchism.) Franco said that he would rather destroy the city than leave it to the "Marxists" and the German Condor Legion of aviators was anxious to study 'the reaction of civilian populations to carefully planned bombings. They concentrated, as far as possible, on hospitals and telephone headquarters. Such calculations often have different effects than those planned for. The bombardments increased the will to resistance, as \Vas sometimes to be noted during the Second \\Torld \\Tar on both sides of the fence. The battle eventually stalemated and the fierce fighting was limited often to bloody attempts to regain roads leading into Madrid. The rest of the enormous front had much the character that Orwell describes in Catalonia and Aragon. There would be knots of dirty, shivering men gathered around flags on a hillside. Across the valley would be another such group. Stray bullets would occasionally whistle back and forth. the better to convert the Chinese, suppressed the story of the Crucifixion. There were no ideals in their program and everything was to be leveled to a dead level of obedience and devotion. The country was flooded with secret police and the vitality and splendour of the two great parties, the Anarchists and the Socialists, was drained away. (There was obviously a foreign Pope also, if one wishes to keep up the analogy with the Jesuits.) Despite all of this one must note that the government was moving towards a somewhat better Spain. There were 60,000 teachers in Republican Spain as opposed to 37,000 in all of Spain in 1931. Industries connected with the war had increased production by thirty to fifty per cent. Tenant farmers and landless laborers disappeared. Typhoid, diptheria and smallpox inoculations were made compulsory. This was all done in the midst of a war. The great battle of Gualalajara took place in March. It was an attempt by the Rebels to encircle Madrid. They lost, though in many ways the battle was a stalemate. The Italian troops suffered a particularly ignominious defeat and Mussolini was angry. The Republicans thought that the blatant and obvious use of whole army corps under foreign direction would have some effect on the famous non-intervention committee. It did not. The rest of the conflict is long, sad, dreary, and noble. Towards the end the Russians began to withdraw their help. It became clear that Stalin would eventually send no more help and the Communists' influence began to wain. Caballero was replaced by Juan Negrin, a man of enormous appetites and abilities. The foreign powers sent him no help, while the Germans in the last year of the war sent increasing material to Franco. The Basques fell in 1937. The Republic still mounted offensives of surprising gallantry and strength. The Republic was cut in two on the Aragon front,. however, and after that Barcelona, that 21 �The College great and pulsing revolutionary city, was taken. Hundreds of thousands of refugees fled to the borders of France knowing they could expect no quarter from the Rebels. Their situation in France was lamentable. Madrid fell inevitably not long after amid scenes of enormous confusion. Finally it was some generals on the Republican side who surrendered. Franco telegraphed to Neville Chamberlain on February 22, 1939, assuring him that his patriotism, his honour as a gentlema·n, and his generosity were the finest guarantees of a just peace. He later said that reprisals were alien to the Nationalist movement. Britain soon afforded him recognition, as did France which quickly sent General Petain as its ambassador. If we turn back briefly to our original list of parties and movements we can now sum up various things. On the side of the left the great workers parties, the Socialists and the Anarchists, took over the reigns of power and effected a revolution. They could never agree and the Communists became the only efficient, organizing group. Towards the end, a moderate man, Negrin, took over the reins and of necessitv worked with the Communists. The liberal and enlighter{ed men of the Republic seemed unable to do anything, though Azana remained as president to the end. Efficiency was needed and it was bought at the expense of the revolution, which if carried out in any degree as far as land' rights and collectivization might have strengthened the Republic. On the other side the various parties were all reduced to impotence and at the end there was only a bureaucracy of greatest corruption and inefficiency but guided by a shrewd man. Neither the old orders of the Carlists nor the new orders of the Fascists were given any more than lip-service. Throughout the war· on both sides every visitor noted a hatred of foreign ideas. Both the Anarchists and the Church spoke the language of Faith. The Anarchists spoke of it as a living force of humanity and the Church spoke of it in the dead language of convention. The sincerity exhibited and the passionate blood spilt were done so by all in the name of Spain. Soon many people sacrificed reality to an idea-but the idea seemed to them part of their blood. In the end the mask of reality and the present fact of power conquered. The Communists perhaps understood too well that the revolution had nothing to do with progress or materialistic theory. The Falange never could institute itself on the basis of modern totalitarian progress. Such ideas were rejected as anathema and heresy. There were civil wars within the civil war on both sides as a result. The country wished to be what it was and is, antitechnical, anti-progress and the evils of progress. It wished to retain honour, individua1itv, and communitv in its essential meaning. . · I shall quote from a speech given by President Azana at the height of the war. \Vhen the torch passes to other hands, to other 22 men, to other generations, let them remember if ever they feel their blood boil and the Spanisl; temper 15 once more. mfunated w1th intolerance, hatred, and destructiOn, let them think of the dead, and listen to their lesson: the lesson of those who have bravely fallen in battle generously fighting for a great ideal, and wh~ now protected by their maternal soil, feel no hat~ or rancor, and who send us, with the sparklinv of their light, tranquil and remote as a star. th~ message of the eternal Fatherland which sa 1·s to all its sons: Peace, Pity, and Pardon. ' If Franco had made any kind of wise and merciful me of his victory a war-weary country vwuld well han.: ken behind him. He did not. His entry into Madrid was tilt signal for what can only be called a stupendous pruscrip tion. At least a million men and women were hc:d,:..J into prison and thousands were executed. The popubtiot> hved for years on the verge of starvation. Spain wa~ forgotten in the bloody years of the greater conflict of the general European war. This foxy and unattracti1·e little man played his cards well and still remains as ruler of Spain. He is building himself one of the biggest and most durable tombs of modern times, carving it at im· mense expense out of the living rock. It, if nothing else. may remain as a memorial to him 1 as he seems to h:t\ e had the fortune to live until the age of eightv, unlon:d, inglorious, and shrewd. No one in Spain gained from this revolution and civil war, not the Church, not the people, not the middle class, and certainh• not the Falange, which is still kept up as a kind of ideological front. to be used as a scapegoat or a shield whenever the Church or the Traditionalists make some abortive mo,·cments. towards action. One wonders if at his death, his grCJt new tomb prepared, Franco will have the grcatnc-,., of Philip the Second, one of his illustrious predecessors in the rule of Spain. Philip's tomb was his own palace. the grey and dreadful Escorial. Towards the end he would be brought down on his cot each day to gaze at the high altar. He had all the crimes of an enormous empire 011 his head and was ulcerous and swollen, rotting with gangrene. Few seemed able to stand the stench. "! lud meant to spare you this scene," he said after partaking of the sacrament, "but I wish you to see how the monardut:l of the earth end." Douglas Allanbrook, a Tutor at St. John's since 1962. r_rc:t'Tl:~-- fC formed his own works "Five Studies in Black and \\ h1te. .:: ; : harpsichord concert in 'Annapolis. A graduate of Ban·ard Ccl;~-.:;~- :.: 1948, he was a Fulbright Fello\\' and a Tra\'eling FelJO\\- of IL~Y.'-:­ Uni\'ersity. From 1955 to 1957 he taught com'position ~mel tk<·· the Peabody Conscr\'atory of J\-1usic. In 1971 he receinxl an :\:.:::-._-:.: E. :t·v1ullikin Tutorship. He recently was elected to th~ t;o:po:::;:~ of Yaddo, an artists-writers colony, Saratoga Springs, i\.\ .. an? · been serving as a member of the adYisory board of the ?-.bryb.nc .\.----:o Council. �1 NEWS ON THE CAMPUSES JOHN GAW MEEM NAMED "HoNORARY FELLOW" i St. John's College and the citizens of New Mexico paid special tribute in ~ebruary to John Caw Meem, a member of the Board of Visitors and GO\·ernors. The veteran architect was a Santa Fe leader in the local effort to persuade St. John's to establish its western campus there, and he and his wife donated 225 acres for the campus in the foothills of the Sangre de Cristo l'v!ountains. The round of salutes began Friday, February 18th, at the Board meeting in Santa Fe, when President Weigle announced that the Faculty and Board had voted to appoint Meem an Honorary Fellow. Only three other persons have received this honor from the College-Mark Van Doren, Paul Mellon, and Richard F. Cleveland. Governor Bruce King proclaimed Sunday, February 20th, as "John Caw !v!eem Day" in the state in appreciation for his successful efforts to conserve and promote New Mexico's unique Spanish-Pueblo style of architecture during the past 50 years. A public reception was held that Sunday to honor Mr. and Mrs. Meem and to open the College's exhibition of "A Selection of Churches and Public Buildings by John Caw Meem, Architect." Hundreds of his friends came to express their affection and respect and to see the display of photographs and drawings. At the reception, the Co\'ernor's proclamation was presented to ~If. Meem bv Mrs. Louise Trigg l\lcKinney, a member of the St. John's Board and also chairman of the :-\c11' .\!exico Commission on the Arts. Finally, the minister and parish council of the Cristo Rey Catholic Church gave him a certificate of appreciation for his designing of their monumental adobe edifice. They also delighted the life-long Episcopalian by naming him a "perpetual honorary member" of the parish. The citation appointing Mr. Meem as an Honorary Fellow of St. John's cited "his understanding of and his devotion to the liberal arts, his commitment to the active participation in the program of liberal education at St. John's College, and his personal achievement and special distinction in his chosen profession of architecture and in his avocation of service to his feHow citizens.n John Gaw Meem LAURA GILPIN BoARD TO INCREASE MEMBERSHIP The Board of Visitors and Governors voted at its February meeting in Santa Fe to amend its Charter and the Polity to enlarge its membership from 40 to 48. The purpose of the larger body is to provide for a wider geographical representation and to strengthen attendance at the quarterly meetings of the Board. The President, the Provost, the Deans, and the Governors of Maryland and New Mexico will continue to serve as ex officio members. Of the r"maining 42 members, 36 shall be elected by the entire Board (instead of 28 as at present) and six shall be elected by the Alumni of the College. The Board also voted to raise total student fees for tuition, room and board in 1972-73 to $3,900 to keep in line with increasing costs of educa~ tion and administration. The current annual total fee is $3,600. It was noted that St. John's designates a sizable share of its budget to student aid. The next meeting of the Board will be May 12-13 in Annapolis. ST. JOHN'S HOLDS SEMINARS FOR Los ANGELES DOCTORS \Vhen a group of Los Angeles doctors decided thev would like to start a series of "great 'books" seminars, they sent to St. John's in Santa Fe for mmeone to lead them. Tutors Samuel E. Brown and Robert II. Neidorf flew to the west coast January 21st with airline tickets pro·:ided by the host group. In three days they met in four seminars to explore some of the ideas found in Sophocles' Anti- 23 �The College gone, 1\fachiavelli's The Prince and Discourses, De Tocqueville's Democracy in America and the American Declaration of Independence. The "students" included six doctors, a dentist and an attorney. · Mr. Neidorf also is director of the College's summer Graduate Institute in Liberal Education, which offers an advanced curriculum centered on readings in books which have helped to shape \\!estern civilization. One of last year's Institute students was Dr. Norman Levan, a department chairman with the Universitv of Southern California Medical School at Los Angeles. It was Levan's enthusiasm for St. John's and its seminar approach to learning which prompted his friends in the professions to become interested in having their own seminars with teachers from· St. John's. NEW INFIRMARY IN ANNAPOLIS St. John's in Annapolis is constructing Harrison Health Center, a new infirmary, on the north side of the campus near King George Street, be- Floors will be of sheet vinyl, ceramic tiles, brick, and carpeting. There will be painted walls and ceilings. Structural consultants are Greene and Seaquist, Engineers; mechanical and electrical consultant is Wallace S. Lippincott, F .E.; landscape architect is John F. Gutting, Jr.; and general contractors are Stehle, Beans, and Bean. Plans for the Harrison Health Center were approved by the Annapolis Historic District Commission on December 22nd. The building replaces Pinkney House, the College's former infirmarv, purchased by the State of 1\Iar\'land. Tl1e new structure is the gift of Mrs. John T. Harrison of Green Farms, Connecticut, in memory of her late husband, a St. John's College alumnus of the Class of 1907. Projected completion date is midsummer. An artist's rendition of the exterior appears on the back cover. A drawing of the interior appears below. ~ ' The two-story building was designed ~ . by James \Vood Burch and \Vrlharn ~ · H. Kirby, Jr., Associated Architects, to ~ : blend harmomously wrth the Barnster · House. TI1e slate roof will be steeply pitched, similarly to the Barrister House roof. The building will be m the shape of a Greek cross, giving maximum space of 4500 square feet without overpowering the elegant proportions of the Barrister House. The exterior walls will be of Oxford handmolded brick made bv Alwine Brick Company of Hanover, Pennsy~vania. The interior will house an mfirmary with isol:ltion ward and small kitchen on the first Aoor, and nurse's quarters and a focult)· apartment on the second Aoor. These apartments will each have a Jiving-dining room combination, two bedrooms, a bath and kitchen. 24 Mr. J. Anthony Moran, Washington attorney, was elected a member of the Board of Visitors and Governors of the College at its December 4th meeting in Santa Fe. Mr. Moran received LL.B., LL.M., and J.D. degrees from the George \Vashington University School of Law and an honorary Doctor of Laws degree from Alliance College in Pennsylvania. He has been admitted to practice before the U.S. Supreme Court; the U.S. Court of Appeals, District of Columbia Circuit; the Maryland Court of Appeals; and the U.S .. District Court, District of Columbia. He formerly served as legal and legislative consultant to various federal agencies, departments and cm;nmissions, and Congressional commrttees. From 1960 to 1964 he was Consultant and Special Advisor to President L\11don B. Johnson and Mrs. Johnson. The interior of the nurse's quarters and the faculty apart:nent in the newJfarrison Health Center in Annapolis will have a liVing-dining room combmahon, cathedral ce1lmg, and a fireplace. tween the historic Charles Carroll . Barrister House and Randall Hall, the ::, ;· · College's dining facility and dormi- 0 f . tory. WASHINGTON LAWYER ELECTED.TO BoARD �April 1972 From 1966 to 1968 he served as Special Advisor to Vice President Hubert H. Humphrey. Mr. Moran is presently engaged in private practice in \Vashington, D.C., Maryland, and Pennsylvania. He is a member of the District of Columbia Bar Association and the American Bar Association, the Delta Theta Phi Legal Fraternity, and the \Vashington Board of Trade: He is the author of several papers, most recently an article entitled "Legislative Counsel: His \Vashington Role" which appeared in the New York Law Journal. SANTA FE LIBRARY AssociATES DONATE BoOKS AND RECORDINGS The Library Associates Committee of St. John's in Santa Fe has donated 99 volumes of books and a collection of recordings of classic French drama to the College Library. These library gifts were made possible by receipts from the four Book and Author Luncheons sponsored by the committee last year. The committee gift included 14 volumes of Medieval Science Series, 16 volumes The Complete Works of Henry Fielding; 26 volumes Hegel's Samtliche \Verke, 15 volumes The Art of Mankind, 17 volumes The International Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences, 11 volumes Tudor Church Music, and a collection of classic French drama recorded bv Le Theatre National Populaire and La Comedie Fran(:aise. · The 1972 spring series of programs will be held this vear on April 14th and May 12th. Two SENIORS WIN WATSON FELLOWSHIPS The College recently learned it has two winners of the coveted Thomas ) . Watson Fellowships for 1972-1973. In Annapolis Miss Christel Stevens, daughter of Mrs. Walli Stevens of University Park, Maryland, and in Santa Fe Jonathan David Krane, son of Mr. and Mrs. james Krane of Los Angeles, California, were each the recipient of $6,000 awards. The Fellowship program enables college graduates of unusual promise to engage in an initial postgraduate year of independent study and travel abroad. TI1e Foundation is most concerned with such qualities as integrity, creativity, leadership capacitv, and potential for humane and effective involvement in the world community. Seventy Fellows were designated for the forthcoming year from among 140 ontstanding candidates nominated. The participating colleges and universities had previously made their nominations from approximately 1200 seniors. The two students applied for the Watson Fellowships by writing a letter to the St. John's College Instruction Committee, explaining their plans for the awards if received. After Committee approval, they applied to the Foundation and were interviewed at the College during December. The awards were announced March 15th. Miss Stevens intends to study Indian classical dance at Kalakshetra Uni· versity of Fine Arts in Madras, India. Sbe has been studying this dance, a combination of drama and dance, at the College with a modern dance group, and for two summers in New for travel in England, France, and Spain, investigating by observation and interviews the legal systems of those countries, studying their ideals and realities, and comparing their differences. After his travels he hopes to enter law school. Mr. Krane was the 1971 winner of the Duane L. Peterson Scholarship. ST. JOHN'S APPOINTS NEW DEVELOPMENT OFFICER IN ANNAPOLIS Mr. Russell Edwin Leavenworth has been appointed Director of Development at the Annapolis campus. His appointment, effective last January ]st. was approved by the College's Board of Visitors and Governors at its December 4th meeting in Santa Fe. Mr. Leavenworth had been serving as Associate Director of Development in Annapolis since july. He has filled a position that was vacated by Mr. Julius Rosenberg, Class of 1938, who has become affiliated with the Associated ) ewish Charities and Welfare Fund, Inc., in Baltimore. Mr. Rosen· berg had been a member of the College staff since September I 968. He will remain with St. John's as a consultant and will return to serve on the Board of Directors of the Alumni Association. A native of Oak P'ark, Illinois, Ilk Leavenworth was formerly a professor at Fresno State College in California. where he was Chairman of the English Department and Assistant to the Dean of the Scbool of Arts and Sciences. In addition he was a member of the library, curriculum, graduate, campus planning, college reorganization, and York City with Miss Georgia Cushhigher education committees at Fresno man. She has been a member of the State. LBJ SENDS AUTOGRAPHED Delegate Council, and co-chairman in BOOK TO LIBRARY l\1r. Leavenworth served as a lieu1970 and chairman in 1971 of Reality, The Libran• in Santa Fe has received a spring weekend at the College. She tenant with the U.S. Army Infantnan autographed copy of former Presi- has been director of the Smdicate of from 1942 to 1946 in Europe. A gradudent Lyndon B. Johnson's book, The B<JCchus, an orga-nization 'responsible ate of Hanover College in 1947, he \ 'Jntagc Point. SJnta Fe businessman for College social activ·ities, and has received his !11.A. and Ph.D. degree' A. J. Tom• Taylor, brother of Lady performed in and directed seyeral dra- from the University of Colorado. H.has taught at the University of Cole~ Bird Johnson, is chairman of the St.· matic productions in Annapolis. f\1r. Krane is interested in interna- rado, at Texas A&l\1 Universitv, anC John's College Board of Associates in · tional law and plans to use his grant at Trinity University. Santa Fe. �The College Among his publications are Interpreting Hamlet (Chandler, 1960), Poems from Six Centunes (Chandler, 1962), "The English Poets" in College and Adult Reading List (Washmgton Square Press, 1962), and Logic for Argument (Random House, 1968). He is married to the former Ann Millis of Carmel, California, who is a graduate of Swarthmore, the University of California at Berkeley, and the University of Colorado. J\frs. Leave?worth received her master s degree m public administration. and her doctorate in Amencan history. She was elected to two four-year terms on the Fresno City School Board and served one term as its president. The Leavenworths have three children: Natalie, a sophomore at St. John's in Santa Fe; Jean, a sophomore at The Key School; and Stuart, a sixth-grader at The Key School. PHOTO CoNTEST IN ANNAPOLIS The Admissions and Public Information Offices on the Annapolis campus of the College have been spon, soring a photography contest. Phase I of the contest has been completed; winning photographs were exhibited the last week of February in the Key Memorial Hall. The judges awarded prizes in . five categories-students, faculty, bmldmgs, activities and functions, and miscellanE:ous. Phase I winners were students Charles Post Phil Rosenberg, Deborah Ross, and L~e Z!otoff, and Chris Sparrow, son of Edward Sparrow, Tutor. The contest is open to all members of the St. John's College community in Annapolis. Prizes are: first, $50; second, $25; third, $10; and honorable mention. The judges are Stanley Stearns, ]\•brian \Varren, and Stuart \Vhelan noted photographers in Annapolis. Phase II of the contest is now in progress. Awards will he n:ade in May with an exhibit of the wmners to be held near the end of the school year. 26 CAMPUS NoTES reviewed C. F. Snow's book, Public Douglas Allanbrook, Tutor in Annapolis, has been serving on the advisory board of the Maryland Arts Council for the past two years. In addition he was recently elected to the Corporation of Yaddo, a writersartists colony in Saratoga Springs, New York. He presented a premiere perform· ance of his own works entitled "Five Studies in Black and White" during a harpsichord concert at the College in Annapolis on January 14th. "The Lecture Method in Mathematics: A Student's View" by Michael \V. Ham, Director of Admissions and Tutor in Annapolis, has been accepted for publication within the year by the American Mathematics Monthly. Edwin Hopkins, Tutor in Annapolis, expects to receive his Ph.D .. degree ~n philosophy from Duke Umvemty m June. Matthew Mallory, an Annapolis senior, has filed as a Republican candidate for delegate from the newly created fourth district in Maryland to the national convention in San Diego in August. The primary will be held May 16th. Santa Fe Tutor Harvey Mead received his Ph.D. degree in December from L'Universite Laval in Quebec. His thesis, "The Middle Science ~f Astronomy," was a study of Ptolemy s methodology within the context of the Aristotelian philosophy of science. Paul D. Newland, Provost in Annapolis, recently addressed a meeting of the Annapolis chapter of the Military Order of World Wars at the Officers' Club at the U.S. Naval Academy. Beverly Ross, Registrar for the Graduate Institute in Liberal EducatiOn at Santa Fe, is teaching an adult education class on writing feature articles at the College of Santa Fe. \ViJJiam K vle Smith, Tutor Emeritus in Annapolis, obtained a Th.h1. degree from Princeton Theological Seminan• in 1971. Robe;t L. Spaeth, Annapolis Tutor, Affairs, in a new magazine, Perspective, subtitled "Weekly Reviews of New Books on Government, Politics, and International Affairs." In his role as an alderman of the City of Annapolis, Mr. Spaeth spoke at the Greater Annapolis Kiwanis Club meeting on the city-county tax differential. His speech was reproduced. m the city's daily newspaper, the Evenmg Capital. Richard D. Weigle, President, attended the Education Symposium at the Lyndon Baines Johnson Library at The University of Texas at Austm January 24-25 at which time. the 250,000 papers on educatiOn wntten during the Johnson administration were made public. Former President and Mrs. Johnson participated in the twoday series of meetings on "Educa~mg a Nation: The Changmg Amencan Commitment." About 300 educators from "throughout the country attended the sessions. Mr. Weigle spoke on the Colleg.e and its curriculum as well as about his recent trip to Africa, Russia, and England at a meeting of the Naval Academy \Vomen's Club on February 1st. STUDENTS TRAIN FOR RESCUE OPERATIONS St. John's College boasts one of the few college search and rescue umts m the country. Fifteen students on the Santa Fe campus train for and take part in search operations for people lost in the vast wilderness areas of New Mexico. The group, under the guidance of Herb Kincey, a Santa Fe busmessman, is one of three units which make up the New Mexico Search and Rescue Association. James Carr, business manager on the Santa Fe campus, is the current president of N.M.S.A.R. and was the College unit advisor hefore being elected to his present positiOn. The St. John's unit meets for traming sessions once a \Vee~ and takes an excursion into nearby wt1derness areas almost every weekend. Since the be- �April ginning of the current academic year, the group has been mobilized for searches eight times. SANTA FE ENJOYS WINTER MuSIC SEASON peting Principles in Music." During that same month, Tutor Charles G. Bell gave Part II of his illustrated lecture on "The Gothic Arts,'' which included the use of recordings. The final event before spring vacation \vas Henry Schuman's visit the first week in March, climaxed by an informal evening of chamber music on the 3rd. Mr. Schuman, founder and director of Our Bach Concerts in New York, spent several days at Santa Fe working with the orchestra and smaller ensembles. The winter music season at St. John's in Santa Fe offered a variety of concert opportunities for the College community. It started with the St. John's Chamber Orchestra's 275th Anniversary Concert on December 4th and continued through March 3rd with a special program with New York oboist Henrv Schuman. ST. JOHN'S FENCER WINS · Neither s~ow nor cold could keep STATE CHAMPIONSHIP Santa Fe music lovers from the AnniEdith "Kit" Callender, a Santa Fe versary Concert, which featured Tutor junior, won the Women's Fencing Samu-el E. Brown as guest conductor Championship of New Mexico in and conductor Richard Stark as piano February. Freshman Frank Skee placed soloist. The program by the musical second in the Men's Under-19 Foil group included Beethoven's "Overture Competition, and sophomore Roberta to the Ballet 'Prometheus,' Op. 43"; Faulhaber and freshman Jonathan Haydn's "Symphony in D Major, No. Teague won third prize in the women's 104," and Mozart's "Piano Concerto and men's sections respectively of the in E flat Major, K 271." championship fencing tournament On Sunday afternoon, December held in Farmington, New Mexico. 12th, mezzo-soprano Mary Neidorf Their coach is Istvan Fehervary, Di(wife of Tutor Robert A. Neidorf) rector of Student Activities. and pianist Gillian 1\-lcHugh of Santa Fe presented an exciting program of FEBRUARY FRESHMAN CLASS piano classics and vocal numbers rang- IN ANNAPOLIS ing from American folk songs and A February Freshman Class of 21 Germ~m lieder to two compositions began on the Annapolis campus on by Annapolis Tutor Elliott Zucker- Friday, January 28th. There were man. Mr. Zuckerman carne to Santa eleven men and ten women. They Fe in January to present a lecture "On came from Illinois, Maryland, Massaa Measure in Mozart" on the 21st and chusetts, New Hampshire, New Jersey, a week later another Annapolis Tutor, New York, Ohio, Tennessee, and _Douglas Allan brook, gave a harpsi- Texas. One was a Vietnam veteran. chord concert, including his own comFour students were early entrants, position "Five Studies in Black ·and corning to St. John's before graduating White." from high school. Ten had attended The February calendar of musical colleges elsewhere-including Antioch, events included the Pomona College Bennington, Carleton, Harvard, and Glee Club on Saturday evening the Shimer Colleges. Two students were National Merit 5th; the Colorado Academy Chorus after lunch on the lOth and a Sundav Scholars, two were Finalists, and one afternoon program of Beethoven b)• received a letter of commendation. Jack Brimbcrg of Locust ValleY, New Sixty percent of the incoming class York, on the 13th. The Fridav e1-ening were in the top fifth of their high lecture on February 18th continued school class. the theme with Robert Parr, former TI1e February Freshman Class is Santa Fe Tutor, speaking on "Com- designed to permit students to com- 1972 plete their college education within a four-year period. The 'llew St. Johnnies will take their first semester of the curriculum during the spring, and finish their Freshman year during the summer. This enables them to join the Sophomore Class on an equal status and to graduate a year earlier than if they had waited until the fall semester of 1972 before coming to St. John's. COLLEGE NAMES DoRMS TO HoNOR WESTERN BENEFACTORS The Board of Visitors and Governors has voted to name several of the student houses in Santa Fe in honor of New Mexico and Texas benefactors: New Mexico-Mr. Robert 0. Anderson, Roswell; Mr. Donald R. Kirby, Albuquerque; and Mrs. Margaret W. Driscoll, Mr. and Mrs. Oscar B. Huffman, Mr. and Mrs. Marshall McCune, Mr. Robert M. McKinney, Mr. and Mrs. John Caw Meern, a'lld Mrs. Sallie Wagner, Santa Fe area. Texas-Bishop and Mrs. Everett H. Jones, San Antonio; and Mr. John D. Murchison and Mr. Clinton Murchison, Jr., Dallas. loLA R. ScoFIELD lola R. Scofield, Tutor Emeritus in Annapolis, died on Monday, March 27th. . A native of California, Mrs. Scofield held degrees from the University of California at Berkeley, \vhere she was an instructor in Eng· !ish and assistant in philosophy. She taught at New York University and at the University College of The University of Chicago before becoming a Tutor at St. John's College in 1954. Her dominant characteristic as a teacher was her devotion to the individual student in her classes. She was always ready to devote her time and her energy to helping a student with a problem or question which he confronted. A service in Mrs. Scofield's memory is being planned in Annapolis for a date in April. 27 i .____ �ALUMNI ACTIVITIES A CALL FOR ALUMNI SuPPORT By the end of January, as Chairman Jack L. Carr's appeal letter went out, the Alumni Annual Giving Campaign was already 38% toward its goal. This running start is due in large measure to an unrestricted bequest which we applied to operating needs. Each day's mail brings more gifts, and this could be a banner year for alumni giving of all sorts. But it will not be unless more of us take a truly realistic view of our responsibilities to St. John's. The expression "give 'til it hurts" has been vastly overworked, to be sure, but that is really what Mr. Weigle was asking in his letter of last November. You are being asked to give more money this year than you think you can afford. An average gift of $32, which is what we achieved last year, should be compared wtih the all-college national average of $75. While any gift is always welcome, we must come closer to the national average if St. John's alumni contributions are to make a real impact on the needs of the College. class-1912, 1922, 1932, 1942, 1947, 1952, 1962, or 1967-then you have even more reason for planning now for a short autumn vacation in Annapolis. The 1972 Homecoming Committee, under the energetic leadership of Julius Rosenberg '38, started planning in January. The Committee's capacity for hard work is exceeded only by its ingenuity, so Homecoming weekend promises to be a memorable one. See you there. CHAPTER NEWS The regular Tuesday luncheon gathering of downtown Baltimore alumni has a new meeting place. The TwoOh-Three Restaurant, 203 Davis Street (just north of the Post Office and east of the Court Square Building) is the new location. If you like tall stories, jokes a la Alexander, or just good fellowship, then join the gang at the 203. WHAT's IN A NAME? "Over my dead body!" "How about Scott Buchanan College?" ''Never!'' HoMECOMING 1972 Do you like to drink beer to the accompaniment of rag-time jazz? Do you enjoy stimulating discussion? Would vou like to see football return to the back campus? Are you willing to counsel with students about what they might expect in graduate schools? Or do you delight simply in seeing old friends and making new ones? If your answer to one or more o_f the ~bove is "yes," then you really should plan to come to Annapolis on October 13 and 14. That's Homecoming time, and the activities listed are just a few of those planned for that \veekend. And if yours is a reunion 28 "If you have to change, I suggest King William's College." Several months ago an alumnus suggested ·that, since St. John's is often confused with church-related colleges and those with prominent basketball teams, the task of admissions workers and fund raisers might be easier if the College were to change its name. A committee of Visitors and Governors was appointed to study the proposal; a recent questionnaire to all a] umni has elicited the responses which appear above. And reactions continue to pour in, piling up evidence for the committee to study. It would be improper to reveal the trend of the responses, other than to saj• that they are both for and against: St. Johnnies have very firm opinions on any question. \Ve a\vait with in· terest the action by the Board of Visitors and Governors in May. CLASS NOTES 1904 Randall C. Cronin and his wife celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary a year ago in January. Our thanks to E. Earl Hearn '06 for this information, and our belated congratulations to the happy couple. 1926 \V. Dorsey Hines of Chestertown, Maryland, was appointed last October to a four-year term as a member of the advisory board of the Department of Natural Resources of Maryland. 1928 Louis L. Snyder is the author of two more books published last fall, The Dreyfus Affair, a Focus Book (Franklin \Vatts, New York) and Great Turning Points in History (Van Nostrand-Reinhold, New York). ProfesSor Snyder was invited in December by the Alexander \'On Humboldt Foundation of the Bonn Government to be its guest on a two-month tour of German universities throughout the Federal Republic. · . 1929 Frank Katz, son of Francis A. Katz, had a one-man exhibit of oil paintings, drawings, and sculptures at the College during February. 1932 fames F. Campbell in September was named Assistant Administrator for Administration of the Agency for International Development. Mr. Campbell joined AID in April of last year after 3 5 years with Esso affiliates of the Standard Oil Company of New Jersey. His last position \VaS as chairman and managing director of Esso Standard of South Africa. 1943 As a follow·up of the report last July about the fire at Ogden Kellogg-Smith's Bay Country School, we can report that 1v1r. Kellogg·Smith has embarked on a new \·entUJe, the Bay Countrv Institute. He seeks to train students as \\"at~r pollution monitors, to meet a need created bv federal and state en\"ironmenta1 legislation. J\1r. Kellogg-Smith has applied for a �April 1972 federal grant, and plans to start training stu· dents at three public high schools and the Baltimore Experimental High SchooL Ed\\'ard H. Grubb in December sent a long and \U)' welcome letter, bringing us up to date on his life. The high points are: he mar· ried in December, 1969, after "many years of living alone and not liking it particularly," to a girl he met in Alaska. He and wife Cynthia haw: a rcd·headed daughter Debby, whose beauty is C\'ident from her picture. lvfr. Grubb owns and operates T11e h·1ountain Shop i; dO\\lltown San Francisco, catering to back packers, rock climbers, and ski tourers. 1944 In helping us locate "lost" alumni, Vernon E. Derr writes that Henry R. Freeman liJ is making films for \VHA-TV in Madison, \Vis· copsin, an educational tele\·ision station. 1946 Samuel Sheinkman and Florence Marie Peters, a director of dance workshops in New York City, were married on December 31st in that city. Dr. Sheinkman is a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst in New York. 1956 Joseph P. Cohen, a Tutor at the College in Annapolis, is spending his sabbatical year as a Yisiting research fe1l0\v at Yale Law School. 1961 Annapolis Admissions Director Michael \V. Ham is teaching a section of freshman mathematics, Euclid and Ptolemy, this semester. Mr. Ham says that the experience is most interesting and challenging, especially since some of the students in the tutorial were "signed up" by him. Stephen Morrow sent us a new address for Paul ld. Matsushita. The latter li\·es in Tokyo, where he is a professor of l;m· at Sophia University. After leaving St. John's he earned a Ph.D. degree .in jurisprudence from Tulane University, and then a Ph.D. degree in law from Tokyo Uni\'ersity. Both of his dissertations were about anti-trust regulations in the United States, and he is considered a ranking soholar in these matters. David P. Rosenfield visited the Col1ege in Annapolis last fall with his wife. He inforrlled us that he received a B.S. degree from the \Vharton School of Finance after lea\'ing St. John's, and that he is Yery happy working as a carpenter in Miami. Apologies for late congratulations to J\1ary (Horton) Sagos and husband Christ '59 on the birth of Master Adam Sagos last August 13th. 1964 Peter H. Crippen, \';ho works for the Agency for International De\·clopment. h:1s been transferred from C:;hhar to Enugu in Nigeria. A December news release from l'vforavian Coljege, Bethlehem. Pennsyh·ania. announces that Dcnuis G. Clew has been promoted from instructor to assistant professor of history and classics. Mr. Clew earned an M.A. degree in 1966 and a Ph.D. degree in 1971 from Princeton University. At Moravian he is a member of both the history and foreign language departments. 1965 A note from Tlwmas G. Eaton reveals that he will complete his course requirements for a doctorate in American histol)' this year. He is studying at the State University of New York at Albany. His wife, Florence (Campbell) Eaton '64, has received her master's degree in English literature. 1966 James R. Mensch, who studied at the Pan· tifical Institute of Medieval Studies, Toronto, after St. John's, is now a doctoral candidate in philosophy and theology at the University of Toronto. He is currentlv liYing in Inns. bruck, Germany, working a~ his dissertation. chusetts continues to go wdl. Last semester he taught "a sort of b:!:;i,· introduction.toJitera~u.re course," and is now tc~1ching Chinese Myshc1sm and Modern Eumpcan literature. Mr. Dean hopes to study ;1hroad again this summer, either in England or Germany. 197! Jane Sarah Goldwin and Don Bandler in January announced plans to he married in Paris on March 24th. TI1e bride's mother and father (Robert A. Goldwin '50 dean in Annapolis) planned to attend. ' Da~iel Sullivan .is apparently doing very well m h1s work Wlth a Toronto Canada advertising agenc~, according to 'Annapoli~ Tutor Harry Goldm~. l\Ir. Sulli\'an successfully ~anaged the ~edectwn c::nnpaign of the Min" ISter for Tour1sm of Canada, ;lllcl is co-founding a space institute in Iceland. r· 1967 B. l'vleredith Burke graciously sent a long letter to help offset the "paucity of news in the last alumni bulletin." \Ve are pleased to -·-19/-DR. RoBERT V. lloFFr...v..N Carmel, Cal., January 2, 1972. · ' learn that she has earned an M.A. degree from the University of Southern California. She .-- 1~EMERSON T. 1-I.\RRlNGTON, JR., taught economics last year at Southern CaliCambrid~e, Md., January 17, 19i2. fornia, and is now in Cambridge, Massachu- -- 1910":._J_ IRVIN HEISE, Bethesda, Md., setts, planning to teach in a local community Jam&ry 1 1972. college this spring. Ms. Burke is thoroughly committed to the work of the National Or__ . A. LoNGAN, New York ganization for \V omen, and hopes to resume City, January 20, 1972. work on her Ph.D. degree next fall. -·- 1 FRANCis R. DicE Pikes. J\.fichael S. Feinberg informs us that he is ville, MyJanuary 15, 1972. ' now out of the Army and is a full-time premedical student at New York University. -f--.- 19~LEvr H. DICE, S:1tellite Beach, Fla., January 15, 1972. 1968 1--- lp.26~JACK R. Fours, Tmcumbia, Ala., Rebecca (McClure) Albury, in writing to Decem~r 3, 1971. t\'liss Strange during the winter, remarked, ''In addition to producing two daughters since -t-"- 19£9-CARL F. lY.wSoN, Drexel Hill, leaving St. John's, I receiYed a B.S. degree Pa., A~t 23, 1971. from The Hopkins last June." She is the wife .;;:_l?J"1-\VtLBUR R. DULIN, Annapolis of \\lilliam Randall Albury, a doctoral candiMd., March 14, 1972. ' date in the history of science, also at The Johns Hopkins University. H. MooHJ·:, Baltimore, Luther BJackiston completed his work at the Md., March 11, 1972. University of Maryland Law School in Janu. 193~CLARENCE K. ANDERSON Salerno ary, and planned to take the Mal)'land Bar Fla.~' / ' ' examination in Febrllal)', Concurrently, he was working full-time as a law clerk in the Balti19?[-!?R. L. DAviD Fusco, Phoenix, Ariz./ rember 13, 1971. more Legal Aid Bureau's Prison Project, thus fulfilling, he writes, "the dual purpose of 19}>-COL. JAJ\fES L. ll.\YS Phoenix, meeting my CiYilian Alternate Service obligat<-·1d.~ December 11, 1971. ' tion and of making the world safe for 'crim1938-THEODORE \ \' ILU.U,IS, Baltimore, inals'." Md.;' December 3, 1971. Donald and Marilynne (Wills) Schell (SF) are now li,·ing in Lake Charles, Louisiana, 19QJ~ELLIOTT A. Rosn,nn·:RG Los Anwhere 1V1r. Schell is working at the Episcopal geles," Cal., February 8, 197::. ' Church of the Good Shepherd. Mrs. Schell Our most sincere apologies !u the parents \nitcs that their daughter, Sasha, was t\\'O in of the lole Stuart R. Dc;JIJt'r SF '71 for February. misspelling their son's ll:ttnc in the In 1970 lv1emoriam column of the 1'\w·mber issue. John R. Dean \\"rites that his work in com. parati\·e literature at the Unircrsity of ~lassJ- In Memoriam 19~AMES ~~CoL. l?~ALBERT �Harrison Health Center St. John's College in Annapolis, Maryland The College St. John's College Annapolis, l\1aryland 21404 Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. - � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The College </em>(1969-1981) Description An account of the resource St. John's College's Office of the Dean published <em>The College</em> from 1969 to 1981. The publication superseded <em><a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/37" title="The Bulletin of St. John's College">The Bulletin of St. John's College</a></em>.  <em>The College</em> was in turn continued by <a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/13" title="The St. John's Review"><em>The St. John's Review</em></a> in 1981.  <br /><br />A separate magazine for St. John's alumni titled <em>The College </em>began publication in 2001, continuing <em>The St. John's Reporter</em>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The College" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=12">Items in the The College Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource 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 Santa Fe, NM Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thecollegemagazine 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. 28 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Development Offices of St. John's College Title A name given to the resource The College, April 1972 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1972-04 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Wyatt, Malcolm Felter, Mary P. Parran,Jr., Thomas Trimmer, Maurice Allanbrook, Douglas Description An account of the resource Volume XXIV, Number 1 of The College. Published in April 1972. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context The_College_Vol_24_No_1_1972 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 The College https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/6358529c585adaa03797667c68e8eae5.pdf b7d8f26494f849fdffb10c3a026fd510 PDF Text Text THE COLLEGE St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland Santa Fe, New Mexico July 1972 �The College Cover: Thomas Mann by Alfred A. Knopf. Courtesy of Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. Editor: Malcolm Wyatt Alumni Editor: Thomas Parran, Jr. Production: Jeffrey Sinks The College is published by the Development Offices of St. John's College in Annapolis, Maryland, and Santa Fe, New Mexico. Richard D. Weigle, President. Published four times a year in Jan· uary, April, July, and October. Second-class postage paid at Anna· polis, Maryland, and at other mailing offices. Vol. XXIV July 1972 No.2 In the July Issue The Venetian Phaedrus, by Eva Brann Old Wars, by Robert Neidorf ................ 10 (The Commencement Address, Annapolis, 1972) lola Scofield, A Memorial, by John Keiffer . . . . . 14 News on the Campuses ..................... 1 6 Alumni Activities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 9 �The Venetian Phaedrus By EVA BRANN F OR the next hour I am going to lecture on a work largely autobiographical, whose hero is a charlatan and whose author is therefore the same. This is not my own but the author's opmwn of himself. My lecture will therefore be an inquiry into the nature of the essential charlatan-an enterprise in the spirit and tradition of Plato's Ion. The work I shall deal with is a short no¥el, a novella, by Thomas Mann, called "Death in Venice," or, more accurately, "The Death in Venice," that is to say, "The Death Appropriate to Venice." Mann considered this novella in certain respects his most successful work, a crystallization of all the elements of his artistry. Having begun in so deprecating a manner, I ought first to give reasons why this work is worth close study. The first and general reason lies in Mann's command of words. Let me make a large claim for him: just as, perplexed by some event in one's life, say the advent of friendship, one might go to a classical writer for help in mastering the matter, so, when overwhelmed by certain subtle and complex experiences of civilized modernity, one might read Mann in order to gain an apt and precise language, a language with which to delineate and fix such experiences. This descriptive use of words-"eros in the word" in Nlann's phrase-this courting of things in language, seems to m.e to be Mann's primary excellence. Second, and more particularly with respect to Death in Venice, there is the enormous compositional care that has gone into the work. If music can be described as the art without accidents, D·eatb in Venice is a musical work, a work without unabsorbed events and devoid of episodes. It is even analogous to a musical composition in a more exact way, since it has movements, alternating adagios and scherzi, as well as recurrences and resmp.ptions of themes and motifs. But more of this later. X third, and peculiarly, Death in Venice seems to be absorbingly interesting because it is a timely work. It begins by giving its own season, year and century, or rather, the exact year is left blank so as to exercise the .reader's knowledge of contemporary circumstances. The year, which is also very close to the year of writing, is in fact 1909, the season, spring. The story is set during one of beginnings of the end of Europe, during one of the Balkan crises preceding the First World War. Mann clearly considers the degenerating political situation as an expression of the contemporary crisis both of the ~<European soul," and the artist's "self," a crisis which he characterizes by the word "decadence." This word was once much used to describe the modern situation, and it's going out of use, is, I think, a sign that the mode it designates has become our second nature" -when a <I �The College preoccupation with the symptoms had ceased to be the poet's prerogative, the mode became public property. In Mann's use, decadence seems to me to be a way of being dependent on one's time; perhaps the very fact of dependence is itself the essential aspect. The dependence consists of this: there is a sickness of, and by reason of, the times which becomes a preoccupation and always amounts to this, that received goods have lost their savor, that there is irritability acnd boredom with the forms of life of the community, a feeling that time must be killed, and a consequent search for relief in the forms of excess or perversion-in short, a permanent sort of crisis. "Deca- dence" has, furthermore, the property that the attempt of those caught up in this condition to overcome it, which attempt might be called "reactionary decadence," nearly always takes the form of a kind of brutality, be it exuberant or mean. The novella is, therefore, timely not merely in the sense of being firmly sited in its own era, but also in the sense of courageously attempting to come to grips with modernity-our own modernity-itself. H AVING given these three reasons, which are really three main facets of Mann's artistry, I must imme- diately say that they are equally the ingredients of his charlatanism-for to be an artist is to be a charlatanso says Plato, so Nietzsche, and so, as we shall see, said Thomas Mann. I shall now proceed to trace out in more detail the manner of Mann's artistry as it appears in the novella. Death in Venice is, in Mann's term, a "pregnant" work-it was to achieve this pregnancy that he gave it the compact novella form. It is a work fraught with meaning, and this burden takes a peculiar form, the form o1' references. It is a novella of reference and reminiscence which fairly incites the reader to a scholarly hunt through the European tradition. These references belong to a number of separately discernible spheres, whose elements are mingled but not blended. I shall proceed to give a very much curtailed review of the chief spheres. There is, first of all, the autobiographical sphere. The writer Gustav von Aschenbach, the chief, and, in a manner of speaking, only character of the novella, has, as we are told ;n an introductory biography in the style of an entry into a poets' Who's Who, a foreign mother and a North German father and has chosen Munich as his residence, all just like Mann himself. In the catalogue of Aschenbach's works there is not one which did not eventually have a counterpart in Mann's writings: the "mighty prose epic on the life of Frederick of Prussia" became an essay called "Frederick and the Great Coalition''; "the novelistic tapestry 'Maja' by name," as well as the story called "A Wretch," later became part of Doctor Faustus; and extensive notes for a-significantly unwritten-essay on "Spirit and Art," a work attributed 2 to Aschenbach and said to have been compared by serious judges with Schiller's essay "On Naive and Sentimental Poetry," are preserved in Mann's notebooks. But of chief importance in the biographical sphere is the inner history of Aschenbach, the crisis in his working life, of which more will be said later, and which, up to the fatal outcome, parallels Mann's own in 1911. Mann once remarked of Goethe's partially autobiographical hero in The Sorrows of Young Werther that it is typical of poets that their heroes die young and they grow old. The limits of the autobiographical element, then, reveal the sober truth that the poet as hero is not quite the poet as poet. A sphere is what might be called the cosmopolitan setting of the novella, whose sign and symbol is a ubiquitous hotel manager with French tails and French tongue, voluble and agile. His realm is the international luxury hotel which is the scene of Aschenbach's secret and catastrophic adventure of the soul, that discreet business organization devoted to the refined care of strangers, with its subdued, anonymous, and yet exclusively intimate atmosphere. Aschenbach is brought to his fatal stay there by a veritable conspiracy of steamers, busses, motor boats, railroads and his own recalcitrant impedimenta: you may remember that he is deflected from his flight from Venice because his luggage is misdirected. Thus the conveniences of modernity, the engines for travSECOND eling, in Mann's phrase, "on the surface of the earth/' in short, progress itself, forms the background of the artist's decline. Mann elsewhere denominates the whole sphere by the-derogatory-word "civilization" and associates it with the West, with France, or better, with the French Revolution, and its rationality, rhetoric, and republicanism. So Aschenbach, in an attempt to regularize and turn into the shallow channels of social intercourse his relatio"n to the boy Tadzio, makes an abortive effort to address a French phrase t9 him. Yet another set of clearly discernible motifs belong to. the sphere of what might be called spiritual topography, that is, the quarters of the earth taken as habitations of the soul. The story begins with a knowledgeable walk through Munich, Mann's city and Wagner's, and the intellectual center of Germany. Aschenbach comes to the Northern cemetery, and in front of the Byzantine funeral chapel, a kind of Northern intimation of the facade of the Venetian St. Mark's, he has a sudden vision of a teeming swamp and tigers, a lustful and luxurious vision of the land whence comes the cholera of which he will die, as well as the stranger god Dionysus. He is incited to take a vacation trip-"not exactly to the tigers," as he puts it to himself-and he chooses to go to the sunny South,' to take a light version of the "Italian Journey" which is a stock experience of heavy-souled Germans. But going south, he ends up in Venice on a day devoid of sun, and Venice is not "Italy" but the entrance depot of the abandoned East, Far and Near, architecturally and �July 1972 atmospherically a European Byzantium. Now Byzantium is a favorite setting for Romantic poets-a latter-day Greece, artful, conspiratorial fraught with memories, decadent. So the coordinates of Mann's spiritual geography are the melancholy North, the decadent South, the lustful East and the rational West. Venice, and from this arises his ultimate anti-political dream of social chaos, in which everything is possible, and which ends in the disappearance of all mankind but himself and the boy. Y another group of references are those centered around the name of Goethe. The imitation of Goethe was a major fact of Mann's life as a writer. The novella which turned into Death in Venice was originally intended to be about the love of the seventy-threeyear-old Goethe for a seventeen-year-old girl, an episode by means of which Mann meant to illustrate the theme of any poet's natural propensity for indignity. Mann later made a notation against the entry in his notebooks about Goethe's affair: "this became Death in Venice." Furthermore Mann read Gaeth's novel The Elective Affinities five times during the writing of the novella, in order to catch its perfect "balance of sensuality and morality." Beyond this there seems at first to be no immediate relation between the two works. But not only the acquisition of a master's style for a novel about a master of prose who had, so it is said of Aschenbach, become a "textbook classic," but a more peculiar feature of The Elective Affinities made it a model for the novella. Goethe's novel is really what in English is called a "Gothic" novel, a novel of deliberately undefinable horror, at once earthily plain and ethereally unspeakable: an innocent child murder, adultery practised between husband and wife, unintentional suicide, high-spirited sadism, and so forth, but all this is delivered in prose so graceful, moderate, and even dainty, that it is scarcely German at all. The language of Death in Venice preserves precisely such a distance from its subject matter and it was for this that Goethe's novel served as model. One more borrowing from Goethe: while prevented from immediate disembarkation in Venice by his luggage, Aschenbach is accosted by an old drunk dandy in a red tie, a pitiful and undignified case of old age; later on, with a wild hope of pleasing the boy, he turns himself into just such a figure (even including the red tie) by submitting to a process of cosmetic rejuvenation. This motif is borrowed from a chapter called "The Man of Fifty Years" in The Apprentice Years of Wilhelm Meister, Goethe's biggest novel. I now come to the .two spheres of reference which are most at the center of the work. ET N a "Protestant" sphere is discermble. Mann once commented on Death in Venice that "the character of the whole is, after all, rather Protestant than antique." In this passage the term "Protestant" has for Mann no particular theological connotation-rather EXT it refers to what is sometimes called an uethos," a circle of moral meanings grouped around the name of Frederick the Great and Pru'5ia. Thus Aschenbach's morality has but one categorical impemtive, "endurance." It is an ethics of the "despite," of achievement despite "sorrow, poverty, loneliness, weakness of body, passion, and a thousand hindrances"; it is a kind of Kantianism of decadence. Its saint is St. Sebastian, dear to Aschenbach, a soldier who displays "grace under torture" (and is, incidentally, the saint of the plague), and its hero is Frederick, a ruler whom Mann sees as a magnificently malicious demon, a be- ing of incredible industry spurred on by a cold and luckless passion. Thus Aschenbach's Fredericianism is a passion for mastery which arises from a "thoroughly pessimistic relation to passion itself." So Aschenbach, born in Schleswig, the province Frederick conquered for Prussia, will fall prey to "the revenge of subjugated feeling." There is a second aspect to what Mann means by "Protestantism," another peculiarly German aspect, for whic~ there is no word in English, except that it is possi- ble Simply to use the German word which can be transcribed as "innerliness." In its context the classical opposition of the public and the private realm is supplanted by that of political and apolitical or "innerly." Rather than to circumscribe the term, let me point out how it is evidenced in the novella, namely by Aschenbach's isolation and essential silence. All the weightiest episodes of the work have a dream-like setting, when awareness of time, the mark of wakefulness, disappears, just as Aschenbach's thoughts at crucial moments are characterized as "dream-logic" and the turning point in Aschenbach's inner catastrophe comes literally by means of a dream, the dream of the invasion of the Indian Dionysus. But dreaming is the activity of isolation and marked by the preponderance of the inner world over the external. Similarly the silence of Aschenbach is indicated by his speaking only to officials, to "personnel," and that in the "Welsh" tongue (a derogatory German term for French), while he more and more talks to himself. German itself disappears from the scene as the plague spreads through Venice and Aschenbach's countrymen leave. Finally he enters into a conspiracy of silence with corrupt Venetian officialdom to keep the fact of the plaque quiet so that the boy without whom he cannot live will remain in T first of these I shall designate "Romanticism." Mann occupied himself much with this term, by which he meant counter-revolution, in particular the revolt of artistry against the baldness of political revolutwn as the primary improving activity, the revolt, m his manner of speaking, of artful music against literate logic, of wordless depth against explanatory rhetoric, of complex mysticism against crude clarity. It means the HE 3 �The College prerogative of passion in its remote pathological forms, and it is essentially submission to, and even a search for, what already is and always was, especially for death. Such romanticism might be called decadence in its inner aspect -in Mann's view, a specifically German decadence. Music is its characteristic art, because it is· at once most exact and most inarticulate, most exacting and most in- dulgent, most artful and most licentious. Aschenbach, who is given the highbrowed physiognomy of the romantic composer Gustav Mahler (news of whose death had just been received by "a respectfully shocked world"), is a writer of prose in the city of music, that is, a man of form in a city of dissolution. His relation to the boy Tadzio is essentially "musical" in the romantic sense: the sound of the boy's undecipherable Polish tongue strikes him as music, he hears his name at first as HAdgio/' a reminiscence of that "unbelievably old-fashioned" adagio which Nietzsche describes as enchanting him on his last night in Venice. And at the scene of Aschenbach's death on the beach of Venice, a black cloth, thrown over an unattended camera, flutters in the wind, a reminiscence of the black flag planted on the beach in the first version of the last act of Tristan, the flag in which Tristan enshrouds himself to die. Parts of Tristan were scored m Venice, and, of course, Wagner himself died there. A Mann did not know it until later, in the years just before 1912 Maurice Barres had written an essay called "The Death of Venice," which is largely a catalogue of romantic pilgrimages to the decomposing romantic Mecca, and which ends with these words: "The ocean rolls on in the night and its waves in breaking orchestrate the motif of death by excess of love of life." The central romantic motif of Death in Venice is just that-the fatal effect of the writer's revivification through passion. Appearances and reminders of death and the underworld abound and are interwoven with the development of Aschenbach's passion for Tadzio, who is typically seen against the void of the sea. In particular, there is a recurring death figure, a reddish type with a death's head physiognomy: the wanderer who outstares Aschenbach from the portico of the funeral chapel in Munich, the j'circus director" of a captain with whom Aschenbach, when boarding the cavernous black steamer for Venice, signs a Faustian contract, the outcast gondolier who ferries him-in a swimming coffin-to the Lido, the balladeer who, spreading fumes of disinfectant, sings a hysteriaproducing laughing song, while Aschenbach sits sipping pomegranate juice (the pomegranate being a symbol of the underworld) in the presence of Tadzio. Each of these wears a yellow piece of clothing as the sign of the "smouldering ugliness" of sickness and, in particular, of the Indian yellow cholera which will be the physical cause of Aschenbach's death. THOUGH 4 But aside from these occurrences within the text, the theme of death is its tacit background. As Aschenbach approaches Venice by sea, he recalls an unnamed ''melancholy and enthusiastic" poet who had once approached the city by the same route, and he recites some of his poetry to himself. This unnamed predecessor is August von Platen, a romantic lover of antiquity and of boys, and a poet of strict forms. It is easy to conjecture what poem Aschenbach is thinking of. It is a poem called "Tristan" and has these closing lines: He who has looked on beauty with his eyes Is already in the hands of death. We shall return to them later. M ANN regarded the fourth and central chapter of the work, which he calls an "antiquicising" chaptet and begins with a beautiful description of dawr in the classical style, as its most successful part. This chapter is filled with references to Greek antiquity, some of which I shall now note. 'I be first allusion to antiquity (which occurs even before the central chapter) is that illicit gondolier who ferries Aschenbach across the lagoon of Venice and whom Aschenbach suspects of being about to'send him to the "House of Hades"; he is clearly Charon, the ancient ferryman of the dead, who carries souls over the Styx. You may remember that he is cheated of his pay, and this corresponds to the fact that Charon will not ferry those who do not pay him an obol-thus Aschenbach has not truly arrived and must reenter the city properly a second time after his abortive flight from the city. The Lido, the beach of Venice, where Aschenbach is lodged, with its shoreside life of playful leisure, is described by a direct quotation from the Odyssey, significantly a description of existence after death in Elysium where "easy life is the lot of man, where there is neither snow, nor winter, nor storm or streaming rain, but Ocean ever sends a softly cooling breath and in blessed leisure the days run on." Another time it is seen as Homeric Phaeacia, the nautical land of artful luxury, and Tadzio, in his sailor suit, is a Phaeacian youth living in indulgent elegance. Once the boy Jashu, who plays the role of Tadzio's slave, is given advice which is a direct quotation from Xenophon's Memorabilia, from a passage dealing with the ability of the mere sight of beauty to induce madness: "But my advice to yon, Critoboulus, is to go and travel for a year, for that much time at least will you need for recovery." In fact, most of the classical references are descriptions of Tadzio. Aschenbach thinks of him variously as Hyacinth, the boy killed by Zephyr out of jealousy of Apollo; as Ganymede, the boy carried off by Zeus to be his cupbearer; as Narcissus, the boy hopelessly in love �July 1972 with himself; as Cleitus and Kephalus, two boys carried off by Dawn. He is a sunlit statue of the noblest period, described in words borrowed from the art history of Winckelmann, the contemporary of Goethe, who introduced the notion and. appreciation of antique sculpture into Germany. Once he is described in terms of the famous Hellenistic statue of a "boy pulling a thorn from his foot." Another time he is a divinity, Eros, particularly "Eros self-wounded" -he often wears a blouse with a red bow, simulating a"~DJ!!:d, 3er_!lis.Jlre5 ~ b!£9se on the collar of which rested the bloom of the head with that was match!~." 12 fact the chapter is full of hexameter @g_s, such as j;J)e fiiCkering blue Of the aethCr," add "fObsters n:mning off sideways.") a c!mrm T ADZIO cr also appears as Eros in another, more signifi- cant, form. The Greeks, conveniently to Mann's theme, had the same representation for Love and' Death, a winged boy of about Tadzio's age, sometimes recognized as a single deity-Eros Thanatos, the Death Eros. There is an essay by Lessing called "How the Ancients Represented Death," which deals at length with the invariable attribute of this Death in ancient representations: that he stands in a graceful pose with his legs crossed-precisely the description of Tadzio as he stands near Aschenbach who is listening to the outcast balladeer while dri.nking pomegranate juice and inhaling the smell of the plague. And finally, the boy appears as Hermes Psychagogus-Hermes, the Leader of Souls, who conducts the poet, with a beckoning gesture familiar from ancient representations, out into the void of the sea and into nothingness. It is necessary for a moment to consider how antiquity comes both to Aschenbach and to Mann himself. For the former it is a tradition imparted in youth, that is to say, a part of the upbringing. Similarly Mann's familiarity with Greek myths came from his childhood reading-in fact he had preserved, and used while writing Death in Venice, a childhood favorite from his mother's library entitled "Textbook of Greek and Roman Mythology to be used in Upper Schools for Young Ladies and Educated Persons of the Female Sex." But most of the references to antiquity are accidental finds of quotations or are deliberately collected from books of reference-lexica, handbooks, and books of secondary learning. So, for instance, he found Cicero's definition of eloquence as. a "continuous motion of the soul," with which the novella opens, quoted in Flaubert. Most of the references, however, come from secondary works somewhat outside of the philological establishment, such as the book Psyche by Erwin Rohde, the friend and defender to the classicists of Nietzsche's Birth of Tragedy. From this work Mann borrowed not only the passage from the Odyssey, and the reference to the figure of Eros, but, most importantly, the description of the orgiastic cui t of Dionysus on which Aschenbach's catastrophic dream is based (though he did read Euripides' Bacchae in addition). I HAVE delineated the spheres of reference at some length and made a point of tracing the sources of the central one not merely because the work itself invites such an enterprise, but even more because the intactness and separability of the spheres and the indirection and second-handedness of the sources are an essential characteristic of Mann's artistry, that is, of his linguistic virtuosity, of his compositional art, and most importantly, of his conscientious modernity, by which, I should now say, I mean in this context precisely a peculiar relation · to the past. Regarded as a characteristic of style, Mann himself gave a name to his procedure-he called it "parody." By 41 parody" Mann means "a kind of mimicry" of the styles of the past. The occasion for parody is set out in Mann's last large novel, written during the Second World War, Doctor Faus.tus. The composer who is the protagonist conducts what must be described as a soliloquy with the devil which is made to take place in the year in which Death in Venice was written-indeed the time structure of the book is based on a parallelism between the times before the First and Second World Wars. The devil has just commented on the devastating fact that the assumed and binding conventions of the arts have lost their power to carry meaning and that the forms necessary to invention have become worn out; whereupon the composer says: "It might be possible to energize the game by playing with forms from which, as is well known, life has vanished." And the devil answers: "I know, I knowparody...." Parody, then, is a nostalgic mode which makes the tradition accessible by way of remotion and traduction. By making the tradition a matter of learnedness, not in the sense of the organized industry of the schools, but as an illusionistic creaming of secondary books, the playfully pedantic parodist at the same time makes it serve him and holds it at arm's length-in so employing the tradition he pronounces it dead. I N respect to style in the narrow sense, that is to say, diction, Mann's parodistic treatment is a matter, on the one hand, of a wonderfully versatile mimicry of modes of speech, and, on the other, of a descriptive language precise by the very fact of being somewhat distant. By "distant" I mean that words are us,ed, as it were, with raised eyebrows, fastidiously, exquisitely, with a virtuosity which is essentially a kind of disengagement. As far as composition is concerned, the parodistic mode results in something analogous to counterpoint, an inter- 5 �The College weaving of intact themes, namely precisely those I have just finished extricating. It might be said that so musical a use of themes requires a very external relation to events and people. But the parodistic mode is most intimately related to the third facet of Mann's artistry, his specific modernity, for, as the passage from Doctor Faustus shows, it is nothing but an attempt to do battle with "decadence." Mann once characterized his literary mission as the loving dissolution of the tradition, by which phrase he meant a kind of modern re-use, and therefore abuse, of the past in an attempt to fill the emptiness of the present. It is in more than one way no accident that the Greek past plays a central role along these lines in the novella, and for this reason: that antiquity offers for re-use not only conventions and styles but also myths, time-honored tales full of precise and publicly accepted detail concerning events and persons of divine or grand stature. To characterize his later works, especially the novelistic sequence Joseph and his Brothers, Mann liked to use the linkage "myth plus psychology." By "psychology" he meant, as we usually do, the exposure of hidden personal motives, which .he superadded, as a kind of modernization, to the mythical aura of his characters. In Death in Venice this "psychological" aspect is absent, for Tadzio, on whom the use of myth centers, is, so to speak, not a person at all but a living statue, so that the use of myth is, as it were, balder than in later works. N ow how, precisely, are myths, or rather references to myths, used to give meaning to the novelistic present? The answer is simple, sad, and significant: the reference is the meaning of the work. Tadzio is, or better, is meant to be, a conglomeration of mythical shadows, he is Eros and Thanatos, Love linked with Death, but what love and death might be is not itself in question. I have often been told-in fact by a former dean of this college-a seminar story which precisely illustrates the deficiencies of this use of myth. As you know, the rule for visitors to seminars is that they may not speak unless there is imminent danger of internal combustion. One night a certain academic was visiting a seminar on Sophocles' Oedipus Rex. The question that was being discussed was why Oedipus chose to punish himself by putting out his eyes. The visitor, who was beginning to meet the requirement for contributing before described, was invited to speak, and gave what he claimed was a prefectly obvious and conclusive reason: that that was the punishment Sophocles had found in the myth. Whereupon a student, presumably with a look of wide-eyed innocence, asked: "And why did he choose to punish himself hy putting out his eyes in the myth?" That is precisely the question the mode of meaning as reference or allusion does not consider. I would like to inject a comment here: this way 6f celebrating our tradition by making a rite of it, by putting 6 the seal of completion on it, does not seem to me good or safe-perhaps we can talk about this in the question period. But we do live in a state of decadence, of falling away, the more so for no longer naming it as such, and Mann's way of laying the past to rest seems to me vastly better than the hatred of it accompanied by ignorance which characterizes the brutal branch of the phenomenon of decadence. But to return to the exposition and now to somewhat wider considerations. B the parodistic style, as its source and ground, there is a view of the world which we must now look into. It is caught in the word which Mann used most often and most persistently of his work-the word "irony." The signification which Mann gave it has its origin in the romantic school of writers and their EHIND theorists. "Irony" itself is a Greek word which means "dissembling" and which was made notorious by Socrates. When, in the Platonic dialogues, an interlocutor refers to Socrates' "wonted irony" he means Socrates' strangely arousing claim not to know. It is not that Socrates is considered to be crudely pretending not to know what he in fact knows. Rather the interlocutor thinks that the claim not to know is itself a subtle assertion of knowledge -the knowledge of ignorance-so that Socrates' dissembling reveals rather than hides superiority. It is precisely this aspect of irony that tbe romantics abstracted-a certain superiority in intercourse, a sense of holding oneself aloof and above the conversation. They combined with this attitude, or perhaps found as its source, the idea of the human being as a "self" or "subject." By a "self' or a "subject" is meant an original source of all representa- tions, or more simply, of all experience, exactly as when someone, inevitably, says in seminar that "everything is subjective." From such absolute subjectivity they drew the sense of a lack of responsibility and obligation, a right to hover above issues, to play infinitely with the creatiohs of one's own thought. Romantic irony is thus a negative principle, an "infinitely delicate play with nothingness" in Kierkegaard' s words, and is therefore easily seen as the very principle of art, interpreted as the externalized play of the subject, which is carried on according to no rules but those established and recognized by itself. In the romantic vocabulary the complement of irony is enthusiasm, the-baseless-intoxication of the self with its own creations. T HIS must be the place to interject once again a brief circumscription of the term '~romantic," a term so indispensable to the discussion of Mann's work. To begin with, there are artless and cunning romantics. By the artless kind I mean children of all ages engaged in the self-indulgent excitation and expression of the emotions. The others are the interesting romantics, �Jnly 1972 in whom-! am using Mann's words-a "yearning and dreamy" aspect is supplemented by enormous "artistic refinement." Let me quote from his essay significantly entitled "Germany and the Germans": "The romantic/' 41 he says, is counter-revolution, the revolt of music against literatme . . . the pessimism of honesty" as against the optimism of rational action. "The special prerogative which it accords to the emotional over reason, even in its most remote forms, such as ... dionysiac intoxication, brings it into a special and psychologically immensely fruitful relation to sickness." For Mann, Romanticism is, then, essentially a counter-movement, a consequence of and reaction to optimistic rationalism, that is to say, to the worJQ·ofapplied science, which defines a counter-world of emotion, but does so wilfully, artfully, and self-consciously. The romantic is the deliberately passionate, which we may call the emotional. With this understanding of romanticism Ma"P-n's "irony" has the following character. It too contains the notion of aloofness or hovering. But hovering is always between something, between two extrem.es or poles, and it is con- sequently typical of the ironist that he engages in what I shall call "polar thinking," a variation of thought which seems to me of great clinical interest since it is deeply characteristic of modernity. (Of course, it might be argued that such polar thinking is the consequence of the polar constitution of the world, but I shall here disregard that possibility as unlikely.) are three names behind Death in Venice, three spheres of thought that Mann has appropriated for his own purposes-Schiller, Schopenhauer, and Nietzsche-and it is precisely in respect to polarities that might be extracted from them that Mann absorbs their thinking. Among these, Schopenhauer is most tacitly in the background; Aschenbach's novel Maja, a novel "under the shadow of one idea," is the only explicit reference to him. Mann himself had planned a novel by that name, and his notebooks explain the connection of the title with Schopenhauer's "Veil of the Maja," the web of illusion of isolation and appearance in which we are caught. The novel was to set out an interpretation of T HERE desire, in particular the desire of the weak for ''life," that is for those who have health and beauty, as the entanglement of the isolated individual in the "Veil of the Maja," and was to present the artist's mission as the double one of exposing and preserving the illusion. The polarity here is that of life, that is, hale and hearty mere existence, as opposed to deprivation and desire. The "Nietzschean" polarity becomes explicit toward the end of the novella, in the fifth and last chapter. Whereas the fourth, central, chapter is presided over by Apollo-it begins with a description of the dawn of days spent within sight of the sunlit Tadzio, the sun-god's ascent in his chariot, and the sunny beach-the fifth and final chapter is dominated by Dionysus. It contains an exact and lengthy description, in the tradition of Thucydides and Lucretius, of the invasion and course of the plague, the Indian cholera, which is insidiously wasting Venice and which forms the background of Aschenbach's growing illicit passion for the Polish boy. Then comes a night in which Aschenbach has a dream of the orgiastic entry of Dionysus into Greece and his own soul, which d~eam con~titutes his internal catastrophe and the beginmug of h1s end. The source of the two gods which dominate the chapters is Nietzsche's Birth of Tragedy, though, of course, Mann has made this important change -that the savior god of The Birth of Tragedy has become the destroyer god of Death in Venice. T last polarity is derived from Schiller's essay "On Naive and Sentimental Poetry," the only work which is, together with its author, mentioned by name in the novella, namely when Aschenbach's essay on "Spirit and Art" is said to be comparable to it. That essay, which Mann intended to write himself, was to be, in the words of the novella, a work of "antithetical eloHE quence," and Mann's extensive notes list the "antitheses" with which it was to deal: Spirit and Nature, Spirit and Art, Culture and Art, Will and Representation, and many more, in Jact so many and so mutually involved that Mann's largest critical attempt was intellectually doomed from the beginning by the very excess of polar opposites. The object of the essay was to be to save the artist from the imputation laid upon him by Nietzsche, of being a charlatan enslaved to the "Olympus of illusion," by establishing a type of "literateur" who would be free of such enslavement, a dignified moral critic of his times, a man of intellect and psychological insight. Death in Venice, in which such a writer is invented only to be shown to be doomed to exposure and destruction, must have made this enterprise morally impossible for Mann. It was Mann's intention furthermore to set off this modern "sentimental" writer against a naive poet who might perhaps be healthier and nobler but would not be so much a man of the times. Let me here explain briefly what Schiller means by "naive" and, especially, by the word "sentimental." The sentimental poet's concerns are sentiments rather than objects of nature; he reflects on impressions received; he is "subjective," while the "naive" poet, such as Homer, who is for Schiller the naive poet par excellence, sets out nature, that is, natural objects, in shining sculptural clarity, without introspection or reflection. For Schiller this distinction is largely coincident with that of ''ancient" and "modern"-the ancients being naive, namely "objective," attending to what is given by nature, and the moderns ''subjective," namely attending to themselves. Now, the founder of German Romanticism, August Schlegel, on his part, identified the literary distinction of "classicaP and ''romantic" with "ancient" and "modern" 7 �The College (and I might interject here that Goethe, by whom Mann's definition of romanticism was clearly influenced, in his Conversations with Eckermann abruptly identifies the classical with the healthy and the romantic with the sick). An argument might be made, then, that there is a kind of grouping of terms-naive, classical, ancient on the one hand, and sentimental, romantic, modern on the other, which informs the novella as its most specific "polarity." T HE latter group circumscribes a notion which plays a dominating role in Death in Venice, the notion of "Art." The source of Art, with a capital A, the Artist, is, for Mann, not primarily one who possesses art, namely craft or knowhow, but a man whose ultimate preoccupation is with the conditions themselves of his production. The novella, then, turns centrally about the relations of the sentimental, romantic and modern subject, the artist, to his opposite pole, the naive and classical object of nature, which is therefore very appropriately and tellingly presented in the guise of antiquity. But just as the antique form is second-hand and modernized, so what the artist of the novella faces is not an object of nature conceived as having its own being, but a product of natura] art. For the boy Tadzio is always described as a statue, whose language is music, and is said, in a thought borrowed from Schopenhauer, to be the product of a "strict and pure will which, darkly active, had been able to project this divine sculpture into the light." In a word, the novella is about the decadent artist's confrontation with a living work of art. With a significant ineptitude, for which one hardly knows whether to laugh or to cry, the proponent of this problem presents himself under the guise of Socrates. As always, Mann works from modern prototypes: he has in mind not only the rationalizing, distintegrating Socrates of Nietzsche's Birth of Tragedy, but especially the Socrates of Hoelderlin's poem by the same name, two lines of which are twice paraphrased in the novella; they are: "He who has thought most deeply, loves what is most alive, and in the end the wise man bows to the beautiful." But Mann did also read two Platonic dialogues while at work on the novella, the Symposium, especially Socrates' speech, which happens to be directed to Phaedrus, and the dialogue Phaedrus itself. M use of what he read in the dialogue is, as always, thoroughly parodistic, that is to say, the text, as in the case of Schiller, Schopenhauer, ANN's and Nietzsche, serves as an occasion for mimicry and remi- niscence, not for responsible appropriation. In fact one might say that the Platonic references in the novella contain nothing but external allusions to the dialogues and that to explicate the differences wGuld be to set out a new modern opposition to supersede the classical one of philos· ophy and poetry, namely that of philosophy and Art in 8 the sense before described-and it is possible to find better contexts than this for that enterprise. However, it does seem to me that Mann was in some way sensitive to the Platonic text, since there are certain salient points which he quite particularly and sure-handedly reverses. The passages in question are Aschenbach's two soliloquies, acknowledged by Mann to be the centerpieces of the work, in which he apostrophizes the Venetian Phaedrus. In the first of these, which occurs in the "Apollonian" fourth chapter, the writer, under the influence of the ironist's enthusiasm but still in control of himself, raises the setting of the Platonic Phaedrus, the plane tree and the turf outside the walls of Athens. There Socrates is made to court Phaedrus, the wise man the beautiful youth, and the courtship consists of instruction concerning desire and virtue. This is an adaptation of that part of Socrates' recantation in the Phaedrus which describes the behaviour of the temperate and the intemperate lover of beauty, including an adaptation of Socrates' definition of beauty as the sole and only one among the beings of the realm beyond heaven which can become visible, that is, as visible form. The passage closes with a reference by the romantic Socrates to the Symposium, to "that perhaps most tender and most ironic thought ever thought" by means of which the enthusiast seeks to save his superiority and his dignity-the passage in which Phaedrus himself claims that the lover, filled as he is with divinity, surpasses the beloved. T HE second apostrophe is spoken by the cosmetically rejuvenated, already infected, Aschenbach in the "Dionysiac" fifth chapter. It begins by once more characterizing beauty as visible divinity and as such "the way of the sensual man, the way of the artist to the spirit," and proceeds to set out the "problem" of the novella, the problem of beauty. It is not the questio11 "what is beauty" that concerns the sentimental Socrates but the problem beauty poses for the "artist," which was expressed by the lines from the poet Platen quoted above: He who has looked on beauty with his eyes, Is already in the hands of death. This problem, which is very much an autobiographical one, might also be called the problem of "the two abysses." Aschenbach, like Mann himself, is said to have been in his youth "problematical and unconditional," by which Mann means that he indulged in the uncompromis· ing, dogged, melancholy, conscientiously thorough pursuit of such insights as lead to the exposure of motives, the doubting of talent, the betrayal of art, in short, that he pursued such knowledge as consists of "seeing through" or "breaking up" things and is usually called "analytic." But these sharp and bitter insights lose their charm and begin to be felt as an abyss of dissolute and "indecent psy· �July 1972 chologism." Aschenbach turns away from them in middle age as having and conferring no dignity, and experiences what he terms the "wonder of a reborn naivete." But in the sentimental poet this new naivete, this moral resolve to abjure psychology, takes the form of a classicism of form, a "purity, simplicity, and symmetry" which results in a "moral simplification of the world," a moral indifference. I is in this condition of being under the discipline of a thoroughly formalistic classicism accompanied by a strict regimen in his private life, that the emptiness of his inner life is invaded and the second abyss opens. For the master of classical form sees a live work of art which is the realization of his own efforts to become a "naive" artist. And because it is flesh and blood, it brings with it Eros and the formalistic poet of the "second," T that is, acquired, naivete has no inner s_ubstance where- with to withstand his devastation. "For"-I am quoting from the second Phaedrus apostrophe-"we poets . . . are not capable of rising, only of straying." In other words, for the poet of the novella, because he knows no lovable wisdom and therefore has no love of wisdom, "the way of the artist to the spirit" which leads through sensual beauty, that is, through visible spirit, is not viable; the poet's Eros precisely reverses the erotic motion of the Symposium-it is not a raising but a demeaning motion. And not only is the road not viable but (and this may be the same thing) its terminus is left perfectly uncircumscribed-there is no indication of what is meant by the "Spirit." Let me read a last quotation. "The masterly bearing of our style is a lie and a foolery, our fame and honor a farce, the trust of the crowd in us highly laughable, and the education of the people and the young through art a risky undertaking which is to be forbidden." These words are not from Plato's Republic but from the second Phaedrus apostrophe in Death i.n Venice. This is what Mann, perhaps in the end not so inappropriately, allowed Socrates to say about "art."· Let me summarize the reason for his condemnation: the artist is a man of form and his torrn, or rather formalism, has a false relation to the passions. I in turn, tried to show what the elements of the artist's forms, of his artistry, are and what the vices of their virtues might be, such that they impose on us and can be called charlatanism. Let me summarize them also. There is Mann's linguistic virtuosity, his way of using words. Aschenbach makes nine attempts to describe Tadzio, to render his appearance in words, only to realize that this descriptive use of words, which Mann HAVE, and is, in fact, a hopeless enterprise. Nor are Aschenbach's words for human communication-perhaps the most telling reversal in Mann's use of the Platonic Phaedrus is that a dialogue, which deals with the relation of eros and rhetoric, suggests to him a soliloquy, that the writing Socrates has no way to form and control his love by logos, and that not a word ever passes between him and the Venetian Phaedrus. Then there is Mann's mode of parody, a way of battling decadence characterized by a willfully irresponsible and yet persistent, somehow loyal, relation to the tradition, in which the present is referred to the past for its meaning. Associated with parody is a "musical" mode of composition in which themes occur to provide moments of allusion and reminiscence intended to elicit a pre-set reaction, a device analogous to what is called "leit-motif" in Wagnerian contexts. And finally, there is Mann's manner of disposing of issues and preparing them for novelistic use which he calls his "irony"-a way of seeing problems in polar terms and playing with these, trusting for resolution to something indefinite called the "Spirit." me end as I began with an apology for Mann and the study of Death in Venice. Mann prided himself, rightly, on his laboriously conscientious pursuit of the problems which he saw-and what he saw and pursued in the novella was the problem of romantic reaction. But this problem seems to me to be one of the most complex and recurrent aspects of modernity, the one which shows that to attempt to battle the evils of our times while firmly planted within them only leads to a deeper implication with them. To put it another way-Death in Venice is a serious reflection on what it means to have a false relation to the passions and to the past. T Miss Eva Brann delivered this lecture at St. JohnS College in Annapolis in the Spring of 1971. Miss Brann has been a Tutor at St. fohn's College si'nce 1957. Prior to completing her Ph. D. at Yale l'n 1956, Miss Brann hiJd been a Fellow of the American Numismatic Society, a -Fellow of the American Sch-qol of Classical Studies at Athens, and a member of the staff of the American Agora Excavations at Athens as a Sibly Fellow of Phi Beta Kappa. somewhere calls "eros in the logos," is forever inadequate, 9 �A commencement address is covertly a sermon. It is traditional that a sermon begin with a text. Accordingly, I quote from the Meditations of the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius (XI,39): OLD WARS Robert Neidorf Socrates used to say, what do you want? Souls of rational men or irrational? -Souls of rational men. Of what rational men? Sound or unsound? -Sound. Why then do you not seek them? -Because we have them. Why then do you fight and quarrel? The one thing that most intrigues me about this passage is the notion that rational men may be of two kinds, those possessed of sound souls and those possessed of unsound souls. I ask therefore that you reflect with me a while on this distinction. What are the names that we should give to these two kinds of rational men, and who are the best models? First, what can it mean for a man to be both rational and unsound? Early in Plato's dialogue Phaedrus, Socrates is made to give a speech in behalf of a thesis that we have all heard in recent years: -That it is better to have what is euphemistically called a love affair with someone who does not in fact love you. We are not obliged to read the thesis so particularly. In its most general form it is even more common: It is the claim that in giving his attentions to persons or things in the world around him, a man should preserve the invulnerability of his private soul, should not become overly committed or engaged, should in brief "play it cool." The speech itself begins (Stephanus•237) with a preamble on the importance of proper method, especially the importance of defining one's terms. Definitions are then given, and the speech unfolds into impeccable arguments based on those definitions. It is in other words a perfectly rational discourse, and must surely be satisfactory to those sophomoric souls who love to screech "define your terms!" 10 Craig C. Elzey Rob~rt A. Neidorf, a Tutor and Director of the Graduate Instztute at St. John's College in Santa Fe, delivers the Commencement Address at Annapolis on June 11, 1972. �July 1972 But something more is going on in this dialogue. Just before the speech begins Socrates is made to say I shall speak with my head covered ... I'm afraid that if I catch your eye I may be ashamed and falter. So in making this speech the face and eyes of the speaker are hidden. At one level the significance of this dramatic device is obvious; it warns the reader that neither Plato nor Socrates really believes the claim that is about to be made. But I believe it goes deeper; I believe it tells us something about the method and style employed in the speech itself; I believe it says that the exclusive employment of cool deductive argument, beginning from clearly defined terms, is inappropriate to important inquiries because the face of the inquirer becomes thereby a mask. In one way we have really known this all along. For in the presence of important questions the key terms could successfully be defined only if the questions were already settled; the hard thing is not the giving of definitions, but the act of open and open-minded inquiry, the act of eyes and face in place of the easier mechanical motions of rational mask. So with Plato's help we have a possible meaning for Auerlius' notion of the rational man of unsound soul. He is the man, ever so rational, who speaks to persuade but hides himself in the process. Models are not hard to find; in fact, they are unavoidable. Personally, I find a model in Presidential Advisor Henry Kissinger when he appears on my television screen to justify in clear terms and with cool argument the intensification of American bestiality in Southeast Asia. Perhaps we ought not to blame him for this monstrous use of mind, but ourselves; for we live and grow among schools and colleges that exalt the successful de bator and the overpoweringly brilliant lecturer as the primary models of men who know how to use their heads. In special contexts, for example in the law courts, the arts of rational debate and controversy may be necessary. But aside from such contexts they generate-so I believe-vicious misuses of the human mind. They produce performances that conceal and dilute the true commitments and true concerns of the performers, performances that will end by persuading the performers that they have no commitment other than to the performance itself. I sometimes feel that if one could only catch Henry Kissinger's eye he would, in Socrates' words, "be ashamed and- falter." Perhaps someone will now say-or think-that I am right because a rational head is useless and dangerous unless it is linked in the same body with a warm and loving heart. Such a person will have a name ready to apply to the man whose soul is rational but unsound. The name is: Technician. And after we hear the name we will be invited to conjure up images of energetic technological specialists who are slowly squeezing the heart out of human life and squeezing the life out of the earth we live on. And after that, we will hear about the old war between philosophy and poetry, or the more recent war between the sciences and the humanities, or the brand-new war between thinking types and feeling types. And, finally, we will be advised to abjure clear thinking and to take up sincere feeling instead. As an alternative to the man ofo rational but unsound soul, we are offered-not a man of sound and rational soul-but an irrational man. I must confess to you what is already obvious: I find this view every bit as offensive and vicious as the arrogant posturing of the rational debater. The question at issue is whether head and heart are one thing or two. Let me assume for the moment that head and heart are distinct and separate, and sketch what I believe are the consequences of this view. In the first place, it isolates the heart. I know it is fashionable to claim that real contact between humans occurs most reliably at the level of feeling and emotion, and fashionable to speak of the Ian· guage of the heart. I do not believe there is much of a language there, for language is an intellectual phenomenon that puts its user into contact with universals, while feelings tend to be particular; at the very least, language moves in the sphere of the public while the so-called language of the heart tends to be private. And experience will not bear out the putative reliability of heart-felt sincerity as a bond between men. Where I live, in New Mexico, there are too many communes based on the ethic of total sincerity that have dissolved into theft and violence. Where I work, at St. John's College, there are too many articulate members of the love-generation who cordially despise each other. If the heart is elevated into an autonomous principle, it becomes only a happy accident if it ever acts as a bond between men. For where hearts differ, there is on this view no reliable way to reach from 11 �The College one to another. The road is then open to the most extreme form of ethical relativism, which is nothing other than no ethic at alL And where differences become intolerable, violence becomes the appropriate response. If head and heart are indeed separate, it is perfectly legitimate both for individuals and for great governments to speak one way and act another; we have all seen it. In the second place, the same view empties the head of all significant content. When the activity of the intellect is taken as irrelevant to human concerns and commitments, there is then no real point to conversation about important matters. We may talk together in order to clarify o.ur convictions and desires, but when differences are located in basic axioms or in fundamental definitions, talk is at end. It is astonishing to me that this view is frequently held even among people who have read Plato. I will not dwell on the other degradations to which, on this view, the head becomes subject. For this one alone, I confess, makes me gag with horror. I repeat it: It is the claim that conversation and discussion are appropriate for the solution of trivial problems, but inappropriate for vital ones. A while ago I put the question whether head and heart are one or two. That was not a very accurate way of stating things. Insofar as they are clearly distinguishable they are clearly two. What I would like to be able to prove is that they are one in the sense that they are inseparable. To make a show of proving that is quite beyond my power, but I would like to share with you two sources which suggest powerfully that in the best sense, and in the best exercise, the powers of head and heart are indeed inseparable. The first source is the ancient philosophers. Both Plato and Aristotle drew a sharp distinction between, on the one hand, a faculty of calculation and deduction, and, on the other hand, a higher power that somehow knows the world by contact and acquaintance. I propose to call the former by the name of rationality and the latter by the name of reason. The usage is unusual, because "rational" and "reasonable" are usually treated as synonyms. Insofar, we moderns have lost the ancient notion that reason is something more-and something more important-than logic, calculation, and record-keeping. Insofar, we have lost the very possibility of an exercise of reason that 12 transcends both the barriers of private feeling and the masks of rationality in order to touch the world and to touch each other; we have lost the ability even to understand Aristotle's claim that "the primary objects of thought and desire are the same" (Metaphysics, XII,7), or his claim that "the soul is in a way all things" (De Anima, III,7). The other source is a famous passage from Helen Keller's Story of My Life (Chapter IV). It records the awakening of a blind and deaf child to the intellectual realm of language and universals, and the relation between the awakening and something else that we usually regard as quite separate: One day, while I was playing with my new doll, Miss Sullivan (my teacher), put my big rag doll into my lap also, spelled "d-o-1-1" and tried to make me understand that "d-o-1-1" applied to both. Earlier in the day we had had a tussle over the words "m-u-g" and "w-a-t-e-r." Miss Sullivan had tried to impress it upon me that "m-u-g" is mug and that "w-a-t-e-r" is water, but I persisted in confounding the two. In despair she had dropped the subject for the time, only to renew it at the first opportunity. I became impatient at her repeated attempts and, seizing the new doll, I dashed it upon the floor. I was keenly delighted when I felt the fragments of the broken doll at my feet. Neither sorrow nor regret followed my passionate outburst. I had not loved the doll. In the still, dark world in which I lived there was no strong sentiment or tenderness. I felt my teacher sweep the fragments to one side of the hearth, and I had a sense of satisfaction that the cause of my discomfort was removed. We walked down the path to the wellhouse .... Some one was drawing water and my teacher placed my hand under the spout. As the cool stream gushed over one hand she spelled into the other the word water, first slowly, then rapidly. I stood still, my whole attention fixed upon the motions of her fingers. Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as of something forgotten-a thrill of returning thought; and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew then that "w-a-t-e-r" meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over �July 1972 my hand. That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free! As we returned to the house every object which I touched seemed to quiver with life. That was because I saw everything with the strange, new sight that had come to me. On entering the door I remembered the doll I had broken. I felt my way to the hearth and picked up the pieces. I tried vainly to put them together. Then my eyes filled with tears; for I realized what I had done, and for the first time I felt repentance and sorrow. A sermon is covertly a testimonial of belief. Let me now summarize the belief I have been trying to express: There is such a thing as the reasonable; it is far more than the rational; and in the light of its exercise the distinction between logic and emotion is trivialized, and the distinction between self and other is joyfully eroded. I began this discussion in the effort to find a name for what Aurelius called the rational but unsound soul. The name proposed was Technician; I have no better to offer. Perhaps it should be modified slightly to Mere Technician, but in my view the force of the word "mere" indicates that what is missing is not passion and heart as such, but reason. Obviously the name for the man whose soul is both rational and sound is: Reasoner. It remains to find a model Reasoner. Marcus Aurelius might be proposed; he was after all a dutiful emperor and general who never lost sight of his problematic relation to others and to the univers. But I confess that the man we see in the Meditations is turned one degree too far inward for my taste. Perhaps, then, Socrates? Perhaps; but I wonder how far the Socrates of Plato's dialogues corresponds with historical reality. I think it likely that there is no model Reasoner except in idea; that is why Marcus Aurelius has occasion to note that even men who think they have sound and rational souls are men after all, so they fight and quarrel, and fail to be model Reasoners. But the idea of the Reasoner is not on that account fictitious. I think it functions as a measure, which is the right way for ideas to function. For myself, I have come to know that idea, or to feel it (it makes no difference which word is used) primarily in my few years at St. John's. I can say that without a blush, knowing full well how much I, and my students, and my colleagues, and the institution as such, have all failed to measure up. It is to me a great gift to have some sense of the meaning of one's failure. So I speak now as one failure to a whole group of failures, and I speak on behalf of all those other failures who have been your teachers and associates during the last four years. I hope that in the future the distinction between rationality and emotion will not be oppressive to you; I hope that the distinction between self and other will be cheerfully distant for you; and I hope that, although you go and I stay, sometimes you will catch my eye and I yours, and we will both be ashamed, and falter. Insofar as such things are ever possible, there is very high accomplishment and something worth celebrating. I hope your lives are full of such celebrations. Craig Elzey 13 �lOLA RIESS SCOFIELD In these pages we honor the memory of lola Scofield, who died on March 27th of this year. She will be remembered by alumni of the College and by her colleagues for her devotion to the ends that the College seeks to serve and for her careful attention to the needs and concerns of every student who made any claim upon her time. She will be remembered by all who knew her as delightful in conversation. We reproduce the remarks made by John Kieffer to the College community on April 7, 1972, and a sample of her own poems and drawings. It is proper that in this hall where she and her husband were always present for the weekly lecture, we. should pause to mourn the death of lola Riess Scofield, a tutor on the faculty of St. John's College for thirteen years, but a member, and in a larger sense, a teaching member, of the St. John's Community for almost forty-five years. When she retired from active teaching the citation offered by the College saluted her as a "dedicated teacher" and this sometimes abused phrase was for her exactly right. For her, teaching was a necessary part of that life of learning which had opened to her at the University of California, (then one of the great centers of learning of the world). She continued there teaching for eight years after graduation, meanwhile earning a Master of Arts degree and completing the course work for two doctorates, first in English and then in Philosophy. After a year abroad and two years teaching at New York University, she accompanied her husband, Richard, to St.John's in 1927. The coming of the program initiated by Mssrs. Barr and Buchanan ten years later was a new stimulus to learning. As she herself has stated, she took every adult seminar and tutorial the College offered and she also taught in the adult program. A feminist, she saw 14 no reason why women should not be appointed to the St. John's faculty. When the College became coeducational her arguments proved irresistible, and she at last gained the appointment she had so long desired. As a teacher she demanded of her students the same high standards of study she had set for herself. Since the opportunity for a university education had been so precious to her, she could not understand that anyone could take his admission to St. John's lightly. So for her students she was exacting but painstaking and solicitous in her encouragement of their work. I would not give the impression that she was a fussy schoolmistress. Her mind was sensitive and insightful and she had genuine wit. Her poems and drawings, published by the Collegian in 19 65, reveal her gifts of imagination and humor. Perhaps above all she benefited from her life with Richard Scofield, learning from him and giving him in tum the intellectual companionship he needed. Of her final contribution to Richard, caring for him through seven years of illness, and of her suffering from his death, one ought not to speak. May we rise for a moment of silence. �Egypt While pageantries of East or West Fade from the ancient land, These mortal mathematicals As in the dawning stand, Constructing their geometry Of shadows on the sand. Album Ah, Valentines of yesterday, The sullen fire of time Consumes your lace and satin hearts, The ribbon and the rhyme! You too have been in Arcady, Earth's ambrosial clime. Holiday On a crowded beach radios croon By many a languid knee; The boy has found in a caverned shell Ocean's melody And carries heme this distant voice That sings of Odyssey. �NEWS ON THE CAMPUSES Charles Post MIRIAM STRANGE "What St. John's needs is an archivist." Miriam Strange said this to Pat Parslow, who interviewed her in her column "Lady in the Limelight" in the Evening Capital for April 1, 1949. Now, twenty-three years later, the College has got the message. Mrs. Parslow had added the comment: "and it's very clear that if such a position were created, Miss Strange would gladly fill it - as she does unofficially now." And lo, this too has come to pass, and all her affectionate friends, alumni and all who know her, may greet her with the title which she has created for herself during those many years when she "unofficially" held the position. An archivist's work has two aspects, and in both Miss Strange is abundantly qualified. One aspect is that the archivist must have an 16 intimate knowledge of the purpose and structure of the instutition whose records he keeps. I can testify with authority about Miss Strange's fitness for this part of her job. So many times, as President or Dean, I have had to think hard to answer her exacting questions about the interpretation of a catalogue requirement, about how our laboratory classes might be rated in conventional terms for other colleges to evaluate, about whether the performance of a student satisfies the requirements for graduation. Her responsibility was not only to maintain an intelligible, accurate record of the educational performance of students, but also to interpret this record to other colleges, universities and accrediting agencies. Every change the Instruction Committee makes in the teaching programs has implications for the permanent account and with these the Instruction Commit- tee rarely concerns itself; but Miss Strange does. After she has carefully explained to the Dean what is involved, he must make his decision, basing it on her meticulous marshalling of all the evidence. With experience like this her organized control of the archives cannot help but be total. There is, however, the second, and much more important aspect of the archivist's work. The content and material of the archives are what it is all about. For a college this means the students and alumni, the faculty and the Board of Visitors and GovernOrs, whose decisions control the life of the College. Miss Strange's contact with the individuals in all these catego· ries has been marked by her cordiality, her deep interest in the person and the career of everyone who comes under her charge. How often visiting alumni have been welcomed by her and questioned about their family, their jobs and their fate in general. How often an alumnus returning perhaps after twenty years to revisit the campus and, uncertain whether anybody would remember him, has been thus warmly received and then ushered in to see the president and the dean, or taken down to the coffee shop to meet whoever· of his former teachers might happen to be there. It is such a background that will convert the cold statistics of the archives in to a warm and living soul, so to speak, of the College. John Kieffer Dean 196 2-68 �July 1972 The time has come to let Miriam Strange emerge from the obscurity she has chosen to dwell in, to show her true stature, to make manifest what has for so long been her selfconcealed charm. For all things high and precious it is not easy to find the proper words. It is not easy, therefore, to find the words to describe Miriam Strange and the influence she exerted. There has been no other person at St. John's who has worked with such zeal, such devotion, such conscientious~ ness for the good of the College. Miriam Strange's work has been going on for almost forty-five years. In all these years she was always fully aware of what was happening at St. John's, what was helping to reach the College's educational goal and what was detracting from it. Her opinions, rarely uttered, but often enough noticed by those with whom she worked, subtly influenced the decisions that had to be made. Scott Buchanan - to mention the man insolubly linked to the College's destiny - must have known that better than anyone else. What has been and is always most amazing is Miriam Strange's unique. memory. She remembers everything that the College must know and has been told about every student: age, looks, place of birth, home of parents, what the student is doing after departing from St. John's, whatever has been said about the student by tutors or relatives or outsiders, what the student's successes or failures were. All the past of the College's life is Miriam horizon. Strange's ever-present Her silent role at graduation exercises vividly symbolizes both her modesty and her indispensability. Miriam Strange has now assumed a new position, that of College Archivist and Alumni Secretary, for which she is singularly well predisposed because of her intimate knowledge of the College's history and because the alumni, their interests and capabilities, their ART GALLERY FEATURES SCHOLDER RETROSPECTIVE AND EXHIBITION OF STUDENT-FACULTY WORK Spring shows at the St. John's Gallery in Santa Fe included the first retrospective exhibition of the work of Fritz Scholder and the second annual student-faculty exhibition. experiences an~ their desires, are Mr. Scholder, one of the most more familiar to her than to popular and controversial contemanybody else. porary American Indian artists, displayed paintings, drawings and June 30, 1972 Jacob Klein prints from his personal collection Dean 1949-58 in April. At the same time his work was featured in a special show at the Smithsonian Institution, and a book of his paintings, Scholder/fndians, had just been published by LIBRARY BENEFIT ENTERS Northland Press. The studentFOURTH YEAR faculty show winners included: The Book and Author Lun- Marilyn Henderson, thread arts cheons, sponsored by the Library division; Jim Nelson, potteryAssociates of St. John's College in sculpture; Alice Ericsson, paintingSanta Fe, have entered their fourth drawing; and J. R.· Thompson, year. They provide interesting photography. noontime programs for local citizens and extra funds for the College's library. Speakers at the 14th and 15th luncheons in April and May included James P. Shannon, former vice president of TRIAL BY JOHNNY-THE 1972 St. John's in Santa Fe and now a ANNAPOLIS SENIOR PRANK law school student; Nancy Wilson The Senior Prank-a traditional Ross, author of The World of Zen and Three Ways of Asian Wzsdom; St. John's Rite of May-usually Bill Barker, Denver writer and tele- measures up to the expected crivision personality; gothic writer teria: joyous, clever, inexpensive, Phyllis Whitney; cultural anthropol- and a complete surprise to the rest ogist Edward T. Hall; and poet of the College. Pranks of years past have occasionally invaded normal Drummond Hadley. tutorial or lab times, but never Richard Martin Stem, chairman of the Library Associates, is master before had a prank displaced the of ceremonies for the successful hallowed hours of a seminar night. On the afternoon of Thursday, programs held at Santa Fe's famous La Fonda hotel. Another series is May 18, and during dinner, some students noticed a general absence planned for the fall. 17 �The College of seniors on campus. More definite Jimmy Burress, and Nancy Willis suspicions were aroused shortly had the roles of 1st, 2nd, and 3rd before seminar time when certain Tutors, Dana Netherton played seniors were observed descending Mortimer Adler, and Tod Donahue on ropes from second-floor seminar the 1st Midshipman. The remaining rooms. Everyone discovered that seniors sang in the choruses of the seminar room doors all over Amorous Midshipmen and Johnny campus had been firmly sealed Women. The most astonishing part of the from the inside. A notice outside each door announced that a senior whole production was the seniors' oral examination of Michael Green success in bringing it to perfection would be held that evening in the in total secrecy. They wrote the libretto, built the set, and. rehearsed Auditorium. The "oral examination" turned this "Dramatic Cantata in One Act" out to be Trial by Johnny, an without divulging a single word of adaptation of the similarly titled what they were doing. The libretto of Trial by Johnny Gilbert and Sullivan opus. The role of Michael Green was sung by and Seminar of the Air (a Real Harold Koenig, while the real Olympic spoof of the forthcoming Michael Green played the portrait television seminars) was subseof King William. (The set, it should quently printed by The Collegian, be explained, was a replica of the the students' weekly newspaper. King William Room.) Christel Copies, while they last, may be Stevens played Miss Barbara obtained by sending $1.00 to The Leonard, Grant Wiggins the part of Co'llegian, St. John's College, Dean Goldwin, Randy Campbell, Annapolis, Maryland 21404. Craig C. /£lzey 18 PLAN UNDER STUDY FOR REGIONAL ALUMNI ASSOCIATIONS St. John's College needs a structure of alumni groups that would serve the mutual interests of its widely scattered alumni from its two remotely separated campuses. One suggestion is to create regional alumni associations (clubs, chapters) wherever a sufficient number of interested alumni could be brought together. Each of these groups would have the responsibilities and powers now exercised by the St. John's College Alumni Association, which serves so well the Annapolis area: to solicit members, collect dues elect ' officers and directors, determine organization budgets, plan programs for the support of the College's educational mission, and nominate Alumni Members for election to the Board of Visitors and Governors. An Alumni Council composed of representatives from each of the regional associations could provide the overall coordination when needed. The College, of course, would furnish administrative and mechanical assistance to each association in much the same way as it now does for the Annapolis group. President Richard D. Weigle and Provost Paul Newland would welcome suggestions on how to accomplish thl' general objective: to strengthen the impact of St.John's College in various centers across the country by the creation of mutually supportive and equal centers of alumni activity. At left, Thomas Ascik, author and conductor of uTrial by johnny", receives his diploma. �July 1972 jACOBSEN HONORED Tutor and Director of Athletics Bryce D. Jacobsen '42 this spring was given recognition on the tenth anniversary of the current intramural athletic program. Inspired by a student petition, the Board of Visitors and Governors, in an appropriate resolution, commended Mr. Jacobsen for the program which he devised, and for man Brooks Robinson and first baseman John (Boog) Powell. Tickets for the occasion were presented to Mr. Jacobsen in a surprise ceremony at the last softball game of the year. Miss Barbara Leonard, representing Provost Paul D. Newland, made the presentation. HOMECOMING 1972 James Grady the leadership which he has displayed in administering it. As an additional honor, Mr. Jacobsen, his wife, and their two grandsons were the guests of the student body at a Baltimore Oriole home baseball game. While there they met both All-Star third base- October 13-14, 1972, will be the time for reunions for all decade classes: 1912, 1922, 1932, 1942, 1952, 1962, as well as the Silver Anniversary class, 1947, and the five-years class, 1967. That will also be the time of Homecoming in Annapolis. And if you want to stay in town on F'riday or Saturday night, make your hotel or motel reservations NOW; there is to be a large yacht show in Annapolis that week-end, and rooms will be at a premium. The Alumni Office will be glad to help if you act quickly; we cannot guarantee miracles if you wait until September. NOTICE Nominations for the 1972 Alumni Award of Merit are now in order, Alumni Association president William R. Tilles has announced. All nominations should reach the Alumni Office in Annapolis before September 6th, and should contain sufficient biographical data to substantiate the nomination. The Award, up to three of which may be given each year, is made at the discretion of the Ass o dation directors to an alumnus for "distinguished and meritorious service to the United States or to his native state or to St. John's College, or for outstanding achievement m his chosen field." CLASS NOTES 1921 LtGen Milton G. Baker, retired from his position as Superintendent of the Valley Forge Military Academy and Junior College, continues as President of the Board and of the Foundation. 1929 On April 1st john W. Boucher ("Long John" of lacrosse fame) retired from his position as regional manager for the Pepsi-Cola Company in Birmingham, Ala. in a recent visit to the Annapolis campus, he revealed his plans to renew his teaching credentials in preparation for entering secondary school teaching. Dr. Eugene N. Cozzolino was elected to membership on the Board of Visitors and Governors of the College, for a three~year term which began in May. He is one of six members elected by the Alumni of the College. Gene and his wife Barbara, parents of Robert G. Cozzolino '63,Iive in Woodbridge, Conn. William A. Gross, Jr. brought more than 40 years of Federal service to a close when he retired in February. At that time he was chief of the Automotive Division of the Materiel Testing Directorate, Aberdeen Proving Ground, Md. Bill spent his entire career at Aberdeen, starting as a laboratory assistant and gaining national recognition for his work in automotive testing. 1937 One of the by~products of the Annual Giving Campaign is the information we receive from class ·captains about their classmates. A c~se in point is a letter from Asbury Lee III, sent along by Marcus· Smith. Asbury is president of the Clearfield Bank and Trust ·Company, Clearfield, Pa. He and his wife, the former Sally Hoffman, have six- children and six grandchildren. (For classmates, Sally was the girl Asbury was 'courting' while he was at St. JOhn's.) We were pleased to note that, although Asbury graduated from the University of Pennsylvania, he really feels much closer-to St. John's. 1941 Another alumnus elected to the Board of Visitors and Governors this spring was Victor G. Bloede, III, chairman of Benton and Bowles, ·a New York advertising agency. Vic was vice president and copy chief of French and Preston of New York before joining Benton and Bo~les in 1950. 19 �The College 1943 The old Oconomowoc flash, A. Scott Abbott, has embarked on a new career. Since late last year Scott and his wife Kate have been living in Mt. Edgecumbe, Alaska, where he is teaching high school for the Bureau of Indian Affairs. He writes that his students are wonderful, although teaching is different from what he did at college level. The Abbotts are enjoying their proximity to Sitka, apparently quite a cultural center, where many people remember Michael Ossorgin with great fondness. 1950 On April 6th John L. Willz"ams and his wife, India, held a reception at their home in Kentfield, Ca., for President and Mrs. Weigle. Alumni in attendance were Stephen W. Cantor '63, Edward B. Cochran '44, Sanford Feman '64, Stephen Fineberg '64, Mr. & Mrs. Bruce F. Glaspell S72, Mr. & Mrs. Philip Holt '69, Kieran C. Manjarrez 868, J. Morrow and Carol (Dimit) Otis '63-'64, Mr. & Mrs. Pasquale L. Patillo '56, Mr. & Mrs. Robert N. Sperber '50, Mr. & Mrs. Michael V. Trownsell '60. Also present and honoring the Weigles were Mr. & Mrs. Chapman Burk, Dr. F. M. Hinkhouse, Alan Fox, Susie Weigel, and Mr. & Mrs. James C. Mackey, parents of Susan ]. Mackey '72. 1954 Last winter Bernard E. Jacob became a member of the law firm of Fried, Frank, Harris, Shriver, and Jacobson of New York. 1955 James W. Stone reports that he received a Ph.D. degree in linguistics last fall from the University of California at Berkeley. He still supervises the teaching of South Asian languages at the Foreign Service Institute of the State Department. 1958 Thomas S. Yoon is serving as a- special assistant to the Speaker of the Korea National Assembly on Parliamentary Affairs. For some time, Tom has lectured in philosophy at the Far Eastern Division of the University of Maryland. For classmates, Tom's address is #106-13 Hoekidong, Dongdai mun-Ku, Seoul, Korea. 1961 Harrison Sheppard writes that he is now living in the Seattle area (Vason, Wash.) where he is Assistant Regional 20 Director of the Federal Trade Commission's Northwestern Regional Office. Stephen Morrow is taking a year's leave of absence from United Press International in order "to learn a modem language or two." Under the head of 'sloppy reporting' in the April issue, we attributed a number of things to David P. Rosenfield which are incorrect. Item: the young lady with Dave last fall was not his wife; he is "happily unmarried." Item: the correct name of his other alma mater is the Wheaton School of Commerce and Accounts. Our apologies for our errors. Meanwhile, Dave suffered a heart attack in .December, and was (April) in the ''late stages of recuperation." We wish him well. 1962 A good letter from Edward C. Green tells us that he is working in Baltimore as a psychiatric social worker in the Cherry Hill office of the Inner City Community Mental Health Program. Pali is currently housewife-motheri~g Sanya, 9, Lianne, 8, and Nona, 3, but Ned thinks she looks forward to further education, perhaps in psychology. They both hope to see lots of '62-ers at their tenth reunion at Homecoming. 1963 Our former managing editor, Mary Felter, called our attention to the catalog of the Catonsville (Md.) Community College, wherein Alan Dorfman is listed as an assistant professor-. of mathematics. A:p.other lawyer is working his way up in the legal world: J. Morrow Otis on January 1st became a member of the firm of Cotton, Seligman and Ray in San Francisco. Jed R. Stampleman and his wife Suzel are the proud parents of a son, Luc Jeffrey, born last November. 1964 Peter H. Crippen (see- April issue) is in Nigeria; with his wife and son, as an employee of the U.S. Public Health Service, working with USAID on mass immunization programs and infectious disease surveillance. Peter covers the three eastern cities of Nigeria, working out of Enugu. Jere my Leven and his wife Linda became the parents of Zachary John on March 16th, which happens to be the birthday of daughter Zoe. Jeremy works for John Bremer (MA '58), academic dean of Newton College, where Jeremy is an assistant professor of education in the Institute of Open Education. Pierre de Ia R. du Prey and his wife, julia (Busser) '66, stopped in the Alumni Office for a short but delightful visit this spring. He is teaching art history at Queens College, Kingston, Ontario{ Julia is studying voice. Also in Canada, but a distance from the du Preys, is David E. Rasmussen. Dave, his wife Tamara, and son Aran, live in Meat Cove on Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia. He is teaching school there, and writes that he lacks only completion of his dissertation for an Ed.D. degree from Harvard Graduate School of Education. 1966 Ian M. Harris, whom some remember as hobbling through his commencement exercise on crutches, has been teaching science at an alternative high school in Philadelphia, the School for Human Services. In April he passed his doctoral comprehensive examinations at Temple University, and plans an early start on his dissertation. He will work this summer under a grant from the Philadelphia School District, developing an urban high school curriculum entitled "Science for Survival." Christopher Hodgkin has taken a position as business manager of the Oakwood School, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. Somewhat late, because we were late finding out about it, we annonnce the wedding, in Great Hall on February 2nd, of Susan Kennedy and Alan Hile, Jr., a graduate of the University of Virginia. The Rev. J. Winfree Smith, also a grad~ uate of 'The University', officiated at the ceremony. 1967 A very newsy letter from Helen (Hobart) Feeley brings us up to date on her activities since graduatiOn: she taught school in San Francisco for a year, then spent 2% years hitch-hiking around the world. In Hong Kong she met her English husband, and they were married in March of 1971. She spent three months in Greece, a "devastating six months in India and Ceylon", then taught English in Japan for three months. Helen points out that this latter activity is a good opportunity for St. Johnnies. In England for at least another four years, she and her husband are doing academic work, he toward a B.Ed. degree, she in social work. In this day of non-involvement, it is rare indeed when a private citizen is willing to help maintain law and order. �July 1972 Last winter, in downtown Annapolis, Robert A. Heini'ger witnessed a' pursesnatching, and pursued and apprehended the suspect. The Annapolis City Council recognized Bob's action with a certificate of merit. Our admiration, and congratulations, to you, Bob. Nancy (Zi'mmerman} and Gregory Scott asked that we let their friends know of the death, of serum hepititis, of their eight-month-old son, Albert Jolyon, last August. When Nancy wrote in April, she was expecting another child the following month. We join the Scott's many friends in both sympathy and wishes for great joy. 1968 Bettina Briggs (SF), last reported in these pages a year ago when she graduated in law from Boston University, passed her Massachusetts Bar examination during the winter. Linda Jean Farrell (SF) writes that she is now married to John Sanders, and is living in Gainesville, Fla. She received a B.A. degree in psychology last August. She, John, and their daughter Charlotte "live out in the woods and try to do as much exploring of all sorts" as they can. Thomas G. Keens (SF), in his senior year at the University of California, San Diego~ School of Medicine, has been involved in emphysema and chronic bronchitis research for the past two-andone-half years. In April Tom presented a well-received paper on his research at the national meeting of the American Federation of Clinical Research. He has also served as a member of the San Diego and Imperial Counties Board of Directors of the National Tuberculosis and Respiratory Disease Association. David I. Moss (SF), about whom we wrote in the April1970 issue, now works for Key-Rec in Dayton, Ohio, where he is also continuing his studies in conceptual design. The April issue of the National Jewish Monthly featured David's work designing and painting ketubot - handpainted marriage contracts - for his friends, and for friends of friends. 1969 Also from Ian Hap-is, we learn that Linda {Torcaso) Bernstein has finished law school at the University of Pennsylvania, while husband Mark has completed his second year. Mark's major achievement, Ian writes, has been in his work for Senator McGovern in the Philadelphia area. Maya Hasegawa has been working as a temporary office worker in Richmond, Va., and has also been working for Senator McGovern. She was elected a delegate to the Virginia State Democratic Convention. In September Maya will join the first class of the new Antioch Law School in Washington, D. C. She also writes that sister Kimi '7 3 is in Tokyo studying Japanese and the Japanese flute. Mi'chael J. Hodgett (SF) recCived the Bronze Star medal while serving as a security clerk with the U . .S. Army Medical Command in· Vietnam this past spring. He has since been discharged, and is employed at a bank in Santa Fe. 1970 SP/4 David D. Cici'a, a graduate of the National Defense fustitute in Monterey, Ca., as a- specialist in Russian language, is now st~tioned in Germany. We are grateful to his father for this information. Jeffrey D. Friedman is working toward an M.A. degree in the Philosophy Depart- ment of The Hebrew University, Jerusalem. In his spare time he is studying the Talmud with Harry Sinoff '74.Jeff hopes to see Steve and Nancy {Goldwin) Harvey '70-'68 in Israel this summer. Jeff is very anxious to enter into a discussion, with anyone, of the relation between Jewish and Western thought, especially regarding liberal education. (A third St. John's in_ Israel?) 1971 Maya Narayan Contractor (SF) and Jonathan L. Brewer (SF) were married last March at Shree Gurudev Ashram, Ganesch Puri, in fudia, in a traditional Hindu ceremony. After a brief honeymoon, the Brewers were to go to Thailand, where Jonathan is to teach English and English literature at Phet Buri, near Bangkok. As a brief follow-up to our April report of the planned wedding of Jane Sarah Goldwin to Donald K. Bandler: the wedding took place on March 24th in the Paris suburb of St. Maur. The Handlers had the distinction of being the first Americans to be married in that town. Bonni'e Louise Gage (SF) is now a staf{ assistant at The White House; perhaps this balances out all the McGovern workers mentioned earlier. 1972 Information from his mother reveals that summer graduate David H. Carey will be studying at the Gregorian University in Rome until1975. Christine (Ferrarini} Constantz"ne has been appointed to the newly-created position of Development litem on the Annapolis campus. fu this job Chris will help with almost all phases of the work of the Development Office. In Memoriam 1906 -Elmer G. Parsly, New York, N.Y., March 12,1972. 1907 - Charles E. Tilghman, Salisbury, Md., May 23,1972. 1909 - Christian F. W. Dammeyer, Annapolis, Md.,June 6,1972. 1910 - Isaac B. Jones, Washington, D. C., January 1972. 1911 - Henry L. Johnson, Cambridge, Md., March 19, 1972. 1913 - Edgar A. Jones, Princess Anne, Md., May 1, 1972. 1918 W. Duncan Deringer, Chestertown, Md., April9, 1972. 1919- Herbert E. Fankhanel, Baltimore, Md., April21, 1972. ~920 - Garland G. Brown, M.D., Ch1cago, ill., December 29, 1971. 1928 - Col. Charles D. Wiegand, Fort Collins, Col., March 7, 1972. 1929 - Hyman Schiff, M.D., Balti· more, Md., April 26, 1972. 1931 · H. H. MacDonald, Oakland, Cal., April12, 1972. 1931 Leonard H. McGiincy, Bridgeport, N.J., January 1972. 1934 - Edmnnd P. Wells, Augusta, Me., May 21, 1972. 1972 - Mordecai Gist Welling, Jr., Annapolis, Md.,Jnne 28, 1972. �Craig C. Elzey Recessional closing the 1972 Commencement at Annapolis. The Tutors moving toward the camera are, from left, Mr. Klein, Mr. Smith, Miss Fletcher, Mr. Bart, Mr. McGrath, Mr. Thoms, Mr. Sparrow, and Mr. Allanbrook. The College St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland 2l 404 Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The College </em>(1969-1981) Description An account of the resource St. John's College's Office of the Dean published <em>The College</em> from 1969 to 1981. The publication superseded <em><a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/37" title="The Bulletin of St. John's College">The Bulletin of St. John's College</a></em>.  <em>The College</em> was in turn continued by <a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/13" title="The St. John's Review"><em>The St. John's Review</em></a> in 1981.  <br /><br />A separate magazine for St. John's alumni titled <em>The College </em>began publication in 2001, continuing <em>The St. John's Reporter</em>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The College" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=12">Items in the The College Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource 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 Santa Fe, NM Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thecollegemagazine 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. 20 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Development Offices of St. John's College Title A name given to the resource The College, July 1972 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1972-07 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Wyatt, Malcolm Parran, Jr., Thomas Sinks, Jeffrey Description An account of the resource Volume XXIV, Number 2 of The College. Published in July 1972. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context The_College_Vol_24_No_2_1972 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 The College https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/227f47140acbc33bf04527b6d14fcf97.pdf 57633bf45f322d3217ed3ccd047ea0c5 PDF Text Text THE COLLEGE St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland Santa Fe, New Mexico October 1972 �THE COLLEGE Vol. XXIV October, 1972 No. 3 Editor: Robert Louis Spaeth Alumn.i Editor: Thomas Panan, Jr. Design: John Randolph Campbell Production: J effrey Sinks The College is published by the Development Office of St.John's College in Annapolis, Maryland. Richard D. Weigle, President. Paul D. Newland, Provost. Editorial Board: Christine Constantine, Russell E . Leavenworth, Paul D . Newland, Barbara Oosterhout, Robert Spaeth, Deborah Traynor, Malcolm Wyatt. Published (our times a year in January , April, July, and October. Second class postage paid at Annapolis, Mary land, and at other mailing offices. 1n the October Issue Cover: President Stringfellow Barr and Dean Scott Buchanan on the steps of McDowell Hall. Photo (c. 1940), courtesy of Mr. Winfree Smith. The New Program at St.John's College by Scott Buchanan l The Report of the President . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 An Interview with Barbara Leonard ........... 21 �The New Program at St.John's College by Scott Buchanan The prospectus of the New Program reprinted here is the earliest version to be publicly drculated. Written in July of 1937, it was inserted in the current Bulletins that were mailed out pending the issuance of a new catalog. The Airns of L£beral Education Two or three generations ago, when the aims of liberal education were still adequately implemented in curricula which had the sanction of both learned and popular opinion, it would have been unnecessary to discuss the aims in a college catalogue. Statements concerning aims would have appeared, and did appear, in the orig.inal charter of the college. Whereas, Institutions for the liberal education of youth in the principles of virtue, knowledge and useful literature are of the highest benefit to society, in order to t rain up and perpe tuate, a succession of able and honest men for discharging the various offices and duties of life, both civil and religious, with usefulness and repu tation, and such institutions of learning have accordingly been promoted and encouraged by the wisest and best best regulated States: Be it enacted, etc . This is the elegant style and certain manner of founders of St. John's College in 1784, as it was for the founders of King William's School in 1696. They could b e thus brief and concise, and their words stood safe and secure in the steady faith they and their readers had in the nature of things and of man. We begin with a looser style and an uncertain manner, and i t takes many more words to come to the point. In order to state our purpose we start with words from a writer, a scientific writer, of the nineteenth century: Education is the adaptation of the human animal to his environment. We note the play of the child and the restless activity of the adolescent in o rder to discern the thread that we wish to follow on to the end. Somewhere along this thread we must pass fro m the merely physical aspects of the environ· ment to the living aspects, and finally to those things that minister to intellect and spirit. In the process of adaptation play and activity must make their contribution to work and thought. Human animals must feed themselves, sense the world they live in, and move about; in these things they are like other animals. But they must also imagine, speculate, and practice the ar ts. These involve man the rational animal. We in this country have of necessity been concerned chiefly with our competence and adaptation in the useful arts, and in this we do not necessarily go astray. It is by taking the useful arts seriously that we discover the liberal arts. In the pursuit of our vital ends we find that imagination, scientific reason, speculation, and observation play an indispensable part, but we also increasingly realize these are special activities with special ends that must be pursued for their own sakes if our more immediate ends are to be gained. There must be appreciation, understanding, and knowledge of the truth even for the sake of our everyday needs. Recent crucial even ts make it unnecessary to argue this point. The arts of appreciating, understanding, and knowing the truth are the liberal arts, and they set their own ends. They are the arts of the freeman who sets his own immediate ends in the light of the more general good. It is only by the practice of the liberal arts t hat the human animal becomes a free man. It is only by discipline in these arts that spiritual, moral, and civil liberties can be achieved and preserved. It is in such obvious propositions as these that the founding fathers of 1784 and 1789 gave reasons for the instit utions that they set up. It is embarrassing to admit that they are not always familiar and obvious to us. It will be an important part of the instructio n at S t. J o hn's College to keep this part of our past alive in the minds of the students, but it is even more importarlt that we implement the ends which the propositions celebrate and seek the virtues which t hey die- �The College tate. mtimately the ends of liberal eduction are the intellectual virtues, the development of the capacities from which they come, and the integration of the characters to which they contribute. Tradition The most powerful controlling factor in any human environment is tradition, and any system of educa· tion that tries to ignore or escape the tradition within which it operates is bound to fail and destroy itself. The latent dangers in traditio ns become actual only when thev are ignored and evaded. Conscious sup· pression or artificial construction of traditions leads only to cultura l monstrosity. Eternal vigilance within a tradition is the price of liberty. But there are many traditions : local traditions, family traditions, even personal day-to-day traditions; professional traditions, scientific and literary traditions, political traditions like monarchy and democracy. These provide the mediums in which the individual lives and moves, moral supports for his purposes, and ways for his imagination and thought to travel. Fallen into decay and disrepute tradition reaches out a dead hand and stops the individual in his tracks. Traditions live in individual minds and spirits; individuals find their vital fulfillments in (jving traditions. It is the purpose of the new program at St. John's College to recover the great liberal tradition of Europe and America, which for a period of two thousand years has kept watch over and guided all the other Occidental traditions. All liberal colleges o ught to be devoted servants of this great tradition, and this is the secret of their tenacious attempts to discharge their functions against many odds. The tangible and eminently available embodiments and tools of this great tradition are the classics and the liberal arts. The Classics For a long period of European history the ancient languages and mathematics provided the educational mediums of this tradition. They were called the classics. In the last generation it has been known that they were no longer effective carriers. Our educational system has responded by dropping them. But we have not been successful in fmding the proper substitutes, tangible, available, movable objects whose obvious properties will enable teachers to move, lead, and disCipline students in the liberal arts. Failure at this point is fundamental failure, and compensations in other directions no matter how good in themselves, no matter how various and interesting they may prove to be to the mass of students, are unfaithful to the imperative need of genuine liberal education. The first step in correction and recovery is admission of failure, and the second step must be research in the literal sense of retracing the steps in the tradition back to the point where the thread was 2 lost. We, the members of the present administration and staff of St. John's College, have been engaged in this research for the last decade. By fo llowing the traces we have found the steps in the great books of the European intellectual tradition. They not only throw light o n what has happened to the liberal heritage, but they are themselves the mediums in which it can be revived and carried on in the liberal college. [n short the great books of European thought are the classics, and in this sense liberal education should still be classical. It may be well in this place to state the criteria of a classic, the standards by which a given book can be judged to be or not to be a classic. To begin with the apparently trivial, a great book is one that has been read by the largest number of persons. To followers of the publishers' announcements of best sellers this criterion may seem unworthy. Over the entire period of E Luopean history, Plato, Euclid, the Bible, and Shakespeare are the best examples ; barring historical accidents such as the burning of the library at Alexandria, the judgment stands. The second criterion is also apparently numerical: a great book has the largest number of possible interpretations. This does not mean that the book must be con· fusi ngly ambiguous; it rather refers to the inexhaustibility of its significance, each interpretation possessing a clarity and force that will allow other interpretations to stand by its side without confusion. Dante's Divine Comedy and Newton's Principia are the te!Ung examJ?Ies under this standard. The third criterion is more Important and harder to determine: a great book should raise the persistent unanswerable questions about the great themes in European thought. Questions concerning number and measurement, matter and form, ultimate substance, tragedy, and God open up mysteries for the human mind. These questions are met and evaded regularly by self styled practical men. Faced and explored they induce, balance, and maintain the intellectual virtues, and on their constant cultivation hang the issues of orthodoxy, heresy, and freedom which are always with us. The fourth criterion is that a great book must be a work of fine art; it must have an immediate intelligibility and style which will excite and discipline the ordinary mind by its form alone. Fifthly, a great book must be a masterpiece of the liberal arts. Its author must be a master of the arts o f thought and imagination whose work has been fai thful to the ends of these arts, the understanding and exposition of the truth. These five are the tests which a book must pass if it is to belong to any contemporary list o f the classics. But such a list makes a chronological series with an order that imposes additional powers on each book. Each book was written after and in the light of previous books; each book was written before other books which it has influenced. Eacl1 master 'las stood on the shoulders of another master and has had later �October 1972 masters as his students. These innucnces, which are historically vague in some cases, arc impressive in the books themselves. r.ach is so mething more than itself in its organic place in the series, and this has many implications. One cannot internally understand a given book un til he has read its predecessors and also its successors. I t turns out that the best commentary on a great book is another great book. Books now unintelligible to both professor and student become approachable and conquerable if the proper path through other books is followed. Finally the educative value and power o f any given book increases at a very high ratio as othe r books arc read. This is an overwhelming answer to inevitab.lc doubts whether the modern college student has capacities equal to the tas k of reading which the St. J o hn's program sets. I t is also intern al evidence from the books themselves that they are the best instrumen ts of education. Second-rate textbooks in special subject- matters do not belong to t he classics; they are the best examples we can find of books that are detached from the tradition and therefore doomed to early death. Several models and a great deal o f teaching and reading have gone into the compilatio n of the list. There is the experience with the American Expeditionary Force Uni versity at Baune at the end of the War, the re is the expenence with ho nors courses at Columbia University during the twenties, t here is the experience wit h adult reading courses in connection with the People 's Institute and the New Yo rk Public Libraries, there is the experience with undergradua tes, graduates, and high school students at the University of Chicago, there is the experience with Litterae Humaniores at Oxford, there is experience in the Benedictine monasteries fro m the sixth century o n. But the best model that we have is the Bible, a series of books so selected and ordered that they have become the Scriptures of the whole race . This is the most read book in our list, and its inspiration has spread backward and forward through all the classics. I t should be added that any limited list of the classics must always remain open to revision. There is no better way of revisi ng it than its continuous use in teaching in a college. The "best hundred books" is a variable for collecting the values that satisfy its criteria. That is the minimum way of describing the scholarly task that is laid on the teaching fa culty. A LIST Of GREAT BOOKS TN CHRONOLOGICAL OROER Homer: Iliad and Od yssey Aeschylus: Oresteia Herodotus: History Sophocles: Oedipus Rex Hippocrates: Sclcttions Euripides: Medea and £/ectrtJ Thucydides: History of the Peloponnesitln Wan Old Testament Aristophanes: Frogs, Clouds, Birds AristaJ'chus: On the Distance of tlul Sun and Moon Aristoxenus: Harmony Pbto: Mcno, Republic, Sopilist Aristotle: Organon and Poetics ATchimedes: Works Euclid: Elements ApoUonius: Conics Lucian: True History Plutarch: Lives Lucretius: On the Nature of Thi>ags Nicomacbus: Introduction to Arithmetic Ptolemy: Almagest Virgil: Aeneid S trabo: Geography {,ivy: History of Rom a Cicero: DeO[ficiis lloraa:: Ars Poctica Ovid: Metamorphoses Quintilian: Institutes Marcus Aurelius: To Himself New Testament Galen: On the Natural Faculties Plotinus: Enneads Augustine: De Mvsica and De Magistro Song of Ro/ond. Volstmga Saga Bonaventura: Ott the R eduction. of the Arts to '11wology 11)0 11'\as: Su.mm(l Th eolo&ricn Roger Bacon: Opus Maius Chaucer: Canterbury Tale.r Leonardo: Note-books Erasmus: CoUoquies Rabelais: Gargantua Copemkus: De Revo114tionibus Machiavelli: The Prince llarvey: On the Motion of the Hearl Gilbert: On the Magnet Kepler: Epitome of Astronomy Calilco: Two New Sciences Descartes: Geometry Francis Bacon : Novum Organum Hobbes~ Leviathan Montaignc: Essays Cervantes: Don Quixote Shakespeare: Hamlet, King Lear Calllin: hutitutes Gr o t ius: The Low of ll'a r and Peace Corndlle: Le Cid Racin.:: Piledre Molkn:: Tartuffe Spino-.a: Ethics Milton: Parad£<e Lost L<:ibniz: Mathematical Papers Newton: Principia lklyle: Skeptical Chymist Montesquieu: 1he Spirit of the Lows Swirt : Gulliver's Travels Locke: Es.say Concerning flu mma Undemanding Voltrure: Candide Fielding: Tom ]OIU!s Ro usseau : Social Contract Adam Smith: Wealth of Nations Hume: 1)-eatise of flumon Nllture Gibbon: Decline and Fall of th e Roman E mpire Constitution of the United Sta tes l'"cdcralist Papers ~\n t: Cri~ique of Pr trc Reason Goethe: Faust Hegel: Science of Lol(ic Schorcnhaurr: 11tc World IJJ WiU and ld~t1 Coleridge: Biographia Literaria Bentham: Prineip les of Momls mad of Legislation Mal thus: Esmy on the Principles of Population Mill : Systc1ta of Logic Marx : Capital Balzac: Pere Gon·ot Thackeray: llenry Esmond Dickens: David Copperfield Flaubert: Madame Bovary Dostocvski; en·me and Pun.islnuont Tohtoi: 111m- and Peace Zola: E"perimental Novel lb:scn: A Doll's House Dalton: A New System of Chemical Pllilosophy Oirrord: The Common Sense of the Exact Sciences Fourier: Mathematical A>llllym of lleat Faraday : Experimental Researches into Ekctricity Pcaoock : Algebra Lobachcvslti: Theory of Parallels Darwin: Origin of Species Mendel: Papers Bemar<l : Introduction to E!!tpt'Tim<'tltal Medicine Galton: EtllJ"iries into the Htmum Mind and its Faculties J oule : Scientific Papers Gauss: Mathematical Papers Galois: Mathe matical Papers Book: laws of Thought llamilton: Q!;tJtemions Riemann: The Hypotheses of Geometry Cantor: Transfinite Numbers Virchow: CeUu/ar Pathology Poincare: Science and Hy p otl·esir Hilbert: Foundations of Geometry james: Principles of Psychology Freud : Pt~pers on Hystena Russell & Whitehead: Principill Mallaematica Veblen & Young: Projective Geometry 3 �The books on this list for t he most part have recently been republished in cheap editions. The cost to the student during the four years' course will with a few exceptions come within the customary sum paid for textbooks. In special cases, for instance Euclid's Elements in Heath's translation, the College will arrange a subsidy. It is therefore feasible to make and remake such a list and to prescribe it as required reading of all students at St. J o hn's who enter the new program of study. The Liberal Arts There are two ways of explaining the function of the liberal arts in a liberal college. The simpler way is to describe the mechanics of instmction. That will appear in what follows. But first it will be well to make clear what the basic distinctions were before the modern chaos buried t hem under the materials of instruction. In general t he liberal arts are the three R's, reading, writing, and reckoning. So they still appear in our primary schools; it is their integrity and power that still lure us back to the little red school houses where our fathers and grandfathers studied and practised them. Before the nineteenth century they had a higher place and a more elaborate development which gave biith to and nurtured t he aiTay of subject-matters in the modern university. For fifteen hundred years they were called the Seven Liberal Arts, and before that, they were called the Encyclopedia, the " circle for the training of boys." There is a continuous tradition of these as there is of the books, and the two traditions are one in the end. Their formal and operating techniques arc more difficult to recover than their products in the great books, but the recovery has proved possible and also illuminating for the practical problems of instruction that the books raise. The dearest historic pattern of the liberal arts for the modern mind is, curiously enough, to be found in the thirteenth century. At the Lime of Dante's Divine Comedy and St. Thomas's Summa Theologies, they were listed as follows: Trivium Quadrivium Grammar Rhetoric Logic Arithmetic Geometry Music Astronomy With the medieval emphasis on the rational activities of man and the central position of the speculative sciences of theology and philosophy interest cen tered on the last m·t in each column , and the other arts were subordinate and auxiliary to them. The master of arts in the t hirteenth century would most likely write his books on logic and metaphysics or in music and astronomy. Other ages made different emphases. The renaissance found rhetoric, geometry, a11d music 4 (measurement) most productive and illuminating with the other arts subsidiary. The Romm1s went farthest in rhetoric, as one might expect from noting their legal activities. The Alexandrians gave h ighest honors to the grammarian scholar and the arithmetician and geometer, with considerable consequent attention in experimental science. The Athenian Greeks agreed with the thirteenth century in their ordering of the arts. It seems that we in our political preoccupation and economic energy, coupled with experimental science, are primarily concerned with rhetoric and music, the Pythagorean name for mathematical physics. The order and the shifts in order that this indicates reflect the shifts of attention and emphasis in the great books, and these in tum may be said to reflect the spirit of the ages in which they were written. These observations can be turned to account in the manner of teaching which we propose to follow . The entire period with the books and the patterns or the arts can be recapitulated in the four-year college course, the yearly divisions falling respectively at the end of the Alexandrian period, at the end of the middle ages, and in tl1e middle of the eighteenth century, and ending with contemporary writers. The schedule can be seen in the following scheme: �October 1972 Schedule of Readings by Years Languages and Literature Liberal Arts Mathc matks and Sdencc First l"ear Homer Hero dotus Thucydidcs Aeschylus Sophocles Euripides Aristophanes Lucian Old Testament Plato Aristotle HipPQcrates Galen Euc~d Nicomacbus Aristarchus ApoUonius Ptolemy Archimedes Aristoxcnus Second Year Virgil Lucretius Strabo Leonardo Horace Aurc~us Ovid Livy Cicero Plot in us Augustine Bonaventura Thomas Roger Bacon Copernicus Ca lvin Spinoza Kepler Harvey Cilbert Newton Leibniz Boyle New Testament Quinrilian Dante Volsunga Saga Song of Roland Chauc<:r Calilco Descartes Third Year Cervantes Shakes1>eare Milton Rabelais Corneille Racine Moliere Erasmus Francis Bacon llobbcs Locke Humc Montaignc Montcsquicu Crotius Fourth Year Gibbon Voltaire Swift Rousseau American Constitution f'cd("r.llist Papers Adam Smith Malthus Man< Fielding Balzac f'laubert Thackeray Dickens Ibsen Dostocvski Tolstoi Kant Schopcnhaucr Hegel Goethe Bentham Mill James Freud Peacock Boolc Fourier Lavoisier Dalton Hamilton Ostwald Maxwell Faraday Joule Danvin Virchow Bernard Calton Mendel Clifford Cantor Riemann Lobachevski Hilbert Poincare Gauss Galois Russell & Whitehead Veblen & Young This scheme correlates the books with th e appro· priate contemporaneous ordering of the li beral arts, and provides the basic pattern of instruction so t hat it will be most effective and economical. The two outside columns give the divisions of the books that are primarily literary and linguistic in medium and s tyle and those that arc mathe matical and scientific in these respects. The middle column gives the tests that expound the distinctions and o rdering principles of the arlS of reading, understanding, and criticism that will most efficiently exploit the contents of the boo ks. Along with these we propose to run laboratories of three kinds throughout the course, one to study the devices of measurement and instrumen ts of precision, another to repeat the crucial and canonical experiments in the history of science, and still another for the focusing and concentrating of t he devices of a ll the sciences upon such contemporary problems as the nature of the cell, the chemical, physical, and biological balances in the blood, and the basic problems in embryology. These experiments are the non-bookish classics that the modern laboratory has produced, and the consequent disciplines will be provtded for the liberal training of the student. I t is a fact of modern times that it is ch iefly by experimentation that the classics and the libera l ar ts are kept alive. The li beral arts are chiefly concerned with the na ture o f the symbols, written, spoken, and const ructed, in terms of which we rational animals find our way around in t he material and cultural world in which we live. Symbols have practical aspects, as in rhetoric and industry, which must be understood and distinguished from their theo retical uses and significances in science and literature. Again there are concrete data and artificial products that must be distin~ished [rom the abstract principles and ideas wh1ch gove rn them. There arc many connections that these aspects have \'\lith one another, and it is the business of the liberal artist to see those apart and put them together. Success in this constitutes intellectual and moral health. Failure is stupid ity, intellectual and mora l decay, ru1d slavery, to escape which the foundjn~ fathers set up institutions of liberal education. It IS reassuring to know that they had more than pious hopes in their minds when they made charters for St. J ohn's College and its sister institutions. Ma chinery of lustruction For students who choose to enter this program of study this year, 1937, there will be a staff of instructjon consisting of men who have come to St. John's from the University of Chicago, the University of Virginia, Columbia University, and Oxford. Ideall y these me n should be equally well trained in each <L~pcct of the progra m, have read all the books in the list, a nd mas tered all the arts. Actu<tlly the members of the staff have been educated during the period of academic specialization, and they therefore are 5 �The College specialists who have re-educated themselves in varying degrees. T ogether their specialties cover the range of the books and the arts, and stud ents will achieve balanced training through a scheme of combination and rotation for teaching techniques; the same will be true for persons in charge. Such a scheme is dictated by the books and the liberal arts. The teaching devices in the scheme arc four: l} reading and discussion of the books in seminars; 2} formal lectures on special topics in the liberal arts; 3} tutorials; 4 ) laboratories. Seminars. Meetings of these seminars will occur twice a week with any additional meetings that special circumstances or difficul ties may indicate. There wiJI be two instructors in charge, and the instruction will make use of a wide range of devices from explication de texte to analysis of intellectual content and the dialectical treatment of critical opinion. Formal Lectures. T he liberal arts o pera te in the light of principles which constitute the liberal sciences. These sciences will be progressively expounded in formal lectures by various members of t he staff as the course proceeds. They will be expository and critical also of themes that arise in the reading of the books. There will be at least two formal lectures a week. Tutorials. There will be three kinds of tutorial instruction for small groups or individuals in original languages, in mathemat ics, and in writing. The study of an original htnguage will be initiated in an intensive manner during a period of six o r eight weeks a t the beginning of each year. The books will be read in English transla tion, but their proper interpre tation is most rapid and efficient when they are studied as translations. This requires only a part of the knowledge commonly demanded now in language courses, a knowledge that is rapidly and easily acquired by the study and analysis of texts selected from the books on the list. T his training will serve two pw·poses in the course, first as it contributes to a knowledge of universal or general grammar as we shall study that in the liberal arts, and as a cumulative skilJ in the genuine reading of any text including those in English. Greek will be thus studied in the first year, Latin t he second, and French and German in the third and fourth . I t should be noted that these correspond wi t h the original languages of t11e texts in those years. T he second kind of tutorial will be ordered to the elementary study of the mathematical books. Modem stude nts, more because of the dive rsity in previous trainings rather than because o f any ge nuine d ifferences in native endo wments, vary a great d eal in their mathematical abiljties. The mathematical tutorials will be organized and taught o n the basis of diagnoses of individual cases with the aim o f leading each student into vita l inte llectual relations wit11 the mathematical texts. This task will be facilitated by the 6 mathematical laboratory for t hose whose d ifficulties lie on the operational level. The third kind of tutorial is concerned with training in wri ti ng. Selected texts will be memorized, imitated in style, translated, and criticized. The aim here will triple: to induce active participation in the tho ught of the great au thors, to increase the original literary ability of the student, and to enco urage them in original literary creation. There are plans for a magazine o f commentary and criticism to which students, teachers, and friends of the St. J ohn's program may contribute. This will be closely connected with the writing tutorials and will be under studen t editorship. Laboratories. There will be three kinds of labora· tories: one in mathematics and measure ment; one in e xperimentation; and one in the combination of scienti fie findings. The mathematical laboratory will be equipped with t he basic instrumen ts of measw·ement in all the sciences. Here students learn the mathematical principles that have been embodied in the instrumen ts, learn to operate them, and thus become familiar with the operational aspects of both mathematics and the natural sciences. T hey will also acquire the "feel" of elementary la borato1y techniques for all the sciences. The second kind of Ia bora tory will allow s tudents to repeat the crucial and canonical expet;ments in historic and contemporary science. T here are classics in e mpirical science, experiments which once un· covered principles and laid t he foundation for whole fields of investigation. Some of these go back to the lever and the balance, some of them, like Gal.ilco's experiments wi th t he inclined plane founded classical mechanics, others like Millika.n's measurement of the force o n the electron have set the themes for contemporary science. Students will study these scientific classics. At t he end of the course there will be a labo ratory for combining scien tific findings in order to investigate concrete problems of central importance. The best prob lems come fro m t.he medical scie nces, problems of the cell, problems of blood balances, p roblems of embryology. They will be in c harge of a member of the staff who is acquainted with medical sc ience. These laboratories will provide a pro per pre-professional scientific training, will illustrate the liberal arts in their liveliest contemporary practices, and will focus the past on the present for the who le course. The mathematical laboratory will carry the student through the first year, the experimental laboratory through Lhe second and third years, and the combina· torial labo ratory the last year. Schedule A given week will contain a maximum o r approximately seventeen hours of actual classroom and laborato ry work. T his will be divided as follows: �October 1972 Seminars Lectures Tutorials Language (for 6 weeks) Mathematics Writing Labo ratory Total 4 hours 2 hours 3 hours 3 hours 2 hours 2Y2 hours 16% hours St udents entering St. J ohn's College in Septem ber, 19 3 7, will be personally advised concerning t he opportunities for their education tha t this course offers, and will be invited to enter it. Old students who wish to make a new start may also choose to enter it. It can no t be taken in part as substitute for one, two, or three years that they still have to com· plete in the old curriculum. This rule a lso applies to students transferring from other institutions. Degree Requirem ents Actually this total will vary between fo urteen and seventeen hours with an average of hours for the week equal to the customary requirements of liberal colleges in this country. Admission to tlu:s course On account of the great vanat10n in preparatory training for college students, no preparation is assumed for this course beyond a minimum of read· ing, writing, and arithmetic; eventually there will be a formulation of this minimum requirement. At the start and for some time in the futu.re we shall apply the usual set of requirements for admission to St. J ohn's College, with special consideration for candi· dates of outstanding ability whose previous records may no t conform to the stated re~:,TJ.ilat ions. This co urse is no t designed for any special type of student, either better or worse than t he average. It has rigors to meet t he abilities of the best students, and it has excellences and aids for t he conventionally judged mediocre or even poor student who also should have the best e ducational material and teaching attention. The course is a single all required course, and can not be taken in part. It has within it so many degrees of freedom not frequently offered at present that no apology is needed for a formalism that is only apparent. Satisfactory work in this course for four years will be accepted as fulfillment of the req uirements for a Bachelor of Arts degree. There will be the usual semester examinations, either oral or written o r both. There will be a final comprehensive examination, oral and written, a t the end of the four years. Specifica.Uy, t he requirements are as follows : Knowledge of the contents of the required books of the course. Competence in the liberal arts. A reading knowledge in at least two foreign languages. Competence in mathematics thro ugh e lementary calculus. Three hundred hours of laboratory science. These requirements more than meet t he demands of graduate schools in this country, whether medical, legal, theological, scientific, business, or in schools of the arts and sciences. There is enough freedom in the course for the individual studen t to mee t any special requirements t hat his choice of career and graduate study may dictate. Despite daily assertio ns to the contrary, t here is no educational device for assuring wordly success to the student. It is more important to cultivate the ratio nal human powers of the individual so that armed with the intellectual and moral virtues he may hope to meet and withstand the vicissitudes of outrageous fortune . 7 �The Report of the Preside· t n All: Hark, the tower bell is sounding; Hearts with hope and fear arc bounding, Anxious voices are resounding As we congregate. Soon the tutors and the Dean Will examine Michael Green. Now his future is unseen, Will he graduate? 1971 1972 Miss With pride we come here to extol Leonard: This College and its noble goal, Which is, of course, the truth. For we are liberal artists all, Our speech is dialectical, We swoon before the truth. Chorus: Our speech is dialeclical. We swoon before the truth. Middies: T heir speech is dialectical. They swoon before the truth. So began Trial by johnny a musical parody on Gilbert and Sullivan's Trial by Jury which the Senior Class in Annapolis wrote and produced as its "senior prank" in May. Under the baton o f Thomas Ascik, '72, "Sovereign and Conductor" according to the program, the seniors amused and delighted t he entire college community, which had earlier been locked out of the seminar rooms in McDowell Hall. Two choruses, composed of "a motley collection of Johnny women" and "amorous midshipmen", responded to the lyrics of the principals. Especially uproarious was the deus ex machina appearance of a senior impersonating Mortimer Adler with his Syntopicon. To Sir Arthur Sullivan's music he sang in five notable verses his autobiography. As he said, "I'll tell you how I came to be a sage." This performance was indicative of the excellent morale which seemed to pervade the Annapolis student body. Dean Robert Goldwin reported that "the senior prank was so good-natured , so original, and so tasteful that there was a visible lifting of spirits for everyone. " Other events which followed - Reality Weekend, the Senior Dinner, and Commencement were equally auspicious and enjoyable. Both Paul Newland, the Provost, and the Dean, in commenting upon this happy state of affairs, noted that special attention will need to be paid to the matter of student morale in the forth-coming academic year because of the high enrollment. Ways must be found to alleviate the strain that is always characteristic of 8 study at St. John's, for such te nsion will be heightened by crowding in class and elsewhere on campus. Pleasantly enough , the problem of numbers will be one of the pressing problems on the Annapolis campus this fall . A fter years of struggling with insufficient enrollmen ts and with a high rate of attriti.o n, the College now confronts a record number of 370 students. The Provost and the Dean are gratified that larger numbers of students arc con tinuing at St. J ohn 's and that there have been waiting lists for the rising sophomore and senior classes since May. 1 agree with the Dean when he writes that "the College should face these new problems with a glad heart." The Santa Fe campus has not yet been confro n ted with the problem of numbers. Dean William A. Darkey reports a good year from t he standpo int of instruction, although the retention ra te of freshman students left something to be desired. It seems fruitless to speculate on the possible causes of attrition. The Annapolis campus suffered from this malady for years. It was on ly in the 1960's when capacity freshman classes were recruited and when total emollment fi nally passed the 300 figure that real improvement began. I remain optimistic that a similar effect will be seen on t he Santa Fe campus. This o f course will not occur automatically. Full freshman classes of qualified students must be sough t. As a step in this direction the Santa Fe campus will adlJlit its first January class of twenty freshme n this year. Greater numbers of students mean more variety in the composition of seminars and tutorials over the fo ur years, wider choice of social contacts, and larger poten tia l constituencies for sports and o ther extracurricular activities--hence a healthier total college situation. �Oc tober 1972 Instruction There were no major changes in the instru ctional program of the Co llege. Dean Go ldwin regretted that insufficient p rogress had been made to carry out the recommendatio n in the Dean's Statement of Edu ca· tional Policy and J>rogram o f 19 71 that ways and means be found to reduce the wo rk in the curric u· lum. At the j oint meeting of the Instructio n Co mmitlee, he ld in Annapolis in February , a pilot graduate preceptorial on the Santa Fe campus was approved, revisio n o f the Graduate Institute cun;cu· lum in Po litics and Socie ty was decided upon, and two papers o n the language program, one by Dean Darkcy and the o the r by Edward Sparro w, were considered . Further ~t te nti on to the language program remains a matter of high priority for the coming year. Under the capable leadership of the Provost, reorganization o f duties was undertaken in the Dean's o ffice in Annapo lis, so that Mr. Goldwin can devote a greater proportion of his time to instructional matters in the future. A number o f admin istrative and clerical functions were reassigned to other ofCices. Further· more , a n Advisory Committee o n ew Appointments was created to conduct preliminary correspondence, screening, and interviewing of faculty applicants. This committee, composed o f former members o f the Instruction Committee, will free the time o f the current Instruction Committee to consider instructional proposals. The Instruction Committee will still retain fu ll responsibility for all final appointments, as stipulated in the Po lity, and will also d eliberate all no n-tenure reappointmenlS and tenure appointments o n the Faculty. This year marked the termination of the so-called transfer program, whereby students entering St. J ohn's after o ne or more years at another college might earn the B. A. d egree in three years and one summer session . Last year Annapolis conducted this program for five summer seniors and Santa Fe for eleven. This past summer the figures were ten and three respectivclr. Both years the program operated at some rinanc ia loss. The conclusion to be drawn is tha t this truncated program, originally conceived as a means of stimulating enrollment, cannot attract a large enough number o f students to justify either its cost or the e xpenditure of tuto rs' time and energy. Th e Tutors Unfort unately, the College lost ano ther of its retired senior tu tors during the year. Mrs. l ola Riess Scofield, widow of Ri chard Scofield, died on March 27, 1972. Sf1e was the second wo man tutor to be appointed to the College following t he introduction of co-education in the earl y 1950's. A tutor o f keen sensitivity and insights, Mrs. Scofield was dedicated to teaching and to her students . She had retired in 19 68 after sixteen years of d evoted service to the Co llege. New tutors appointed for 1972-3 on the Annapolis campus are: Burton Blistein, who holds the A.B. and M.A. degree from the Universi ty of Chicago, taught for eight years at Shimer College, and will no w become currently Tutor and Ar tist-in-Residence; Cecil H. Fox, who earned the B.S . and M.S. degrees from T rinity University, the Ph.D. degree fro m Clark University, and the Fil.Lic. from Lund University in Sweden; Leon Kass, who has both an M.D. from the University of Chicago Medical School and a Ph.D. from Harvard University and who is this year a Guggenheim Fellow; 13ro ther Ro bert Smith, who was for many years head o f the lntegrated Program of St. Mary's Co llege in Cal ifo rnia and has ta ught before both on the Annapolis campus and in the Graduate Institute a t Santa f e; David E. Starr, who graduated from Gordon College and then received the M.A. an.d Ph.D. d egrees from 13osto n University; a nd RobertS. Zelenka, a graduate o f Ri ce University, who was awarded the M.A. degree by the j ohns Hopkins University and the Ph.D. degree by the University o f Maryland. William De Hart and E.rrol Pomerance completed their appointments and left the Co llege, while Robert Sacks, who spen t the year in J enasalem o n sabbatical leave, has decided to move west to t he Santa Fe Faculty . Laurence Berns, J oseph P. Cohen, and Ro bert B. Willia mson return from sabbatical leave, as Ro bert S. Bart, J o hn Sarkissian, David H. Stephenson, and J ames M. T o lbert begin their sabba· ticals. Gisela Berns resumes teaching following leave, while Alvin Main will be absen t on leave during the fust semester. The Annapolis Facul ty will number 5 3 for the year commencing this September. On the Santa Fe Campus there were five new appo intmen ts: Alfred J. DeGrazia III , who has the B.A. de~,'ree fro m Swarthmore College and the M.A. from Howard University; Norman S . Grabo, who holds both the M.A. and Ph.D. from the University of California at Los Angeles and who taught for five years at Michigan State University and then for nine years was Pro fesso r o f English at the University Californ ia in Berkeley; Philip LeCuyer, a graduate of the Colorado Co Uege who earned a B.A. at Merton College, Oxford University, as a Rhodes Scholar and has been a tutor in the Institute o f Social Research and Develo pment at the University o f New Mexico while working to ward a docto rate in Biology; Mary I. Robinson, a graduate of the University of Chicago, who is a Ph.D. candidate in bioche mistry at the Universi ty o f Arizona; and Alfreda L. Verratti, who graduated from St. J o hn 's College in 1966, became a Ph.D. candidate at Washingto n Unjvcrsity in philosop hy, and taught at Webste r CoJ/cgc. Last year's report omitted one late appointment, tha t of Allan Pearson, whose B.A. was earned at Boston College and A.l\1. at Boston Universit y in German language and lj terature and who taugh t for five years at the University of California at Riverside. 1\lrs. T oni Drew completed two years as a Teaching Intern and has now received a regu lar tutor's appo imment. Paul D. 9 �The College Mannick will continue fo r a third and final year as a Teaching i ntern, while Pat rick Hanson, a June gradu· ate, has been appoiJHed as Teaching Intern wi_th responsibility for organizing and maintaining equipment in the physics and chemistry laboratories. Tutors returning from sabbatical leave are Robert M. Bunker, David C. Jones, and Robert D. Sacks, while Mic hael Ossorgin and J ohn S. Steadman will take sabbtical leave during 1972-73 . Ellio tt T . Skinner will be on leave during the first semester to comple te his doctoral dissertation. Unhappily for the College, Don B. Cook, a tenured Tutor, decided to resign from the Faculty in o rder to try p reparatory sch~o l teaching. Dennis V. Higgins and Henry N. Larom left the Co llege at the e nd o f the acad emic year, since they did not receive ten ure appointments. Aaron Kirsc hbaum resigned in order to undertake the study of law. The Santa Fe Faculty will number 39 for t he year commencing this September. Th e Students On J une 4, 1972, the College awarded 28 Bachelor o f Arts degrees on t he Santa Fe campus, o ne magna cum laude and three cum laude. One week later the College awarded 39 Bachelor of Arts degrees to seniors on t he Annapolis campus, ~ three of the m magna cum laude and nine of the m cum laude. Erro l Po merance was awarded the degree of Master of Arts. At t he end of the summer Bachelor of Arts degrees were awa:rded to seven seniors in Annapolis and two seniors in Santa Fe. By happenstance the latter two were both women. They therefore constitute the smallest St. J ohn's class on record and the o nly exclusively female class to graduate from the College. Two graduating seniors received Watson T raveling Fellowships, Christel M. Stevens at Annapolis and J o nathan Krane at Santa Fe. Enrollment figures for the beginning and the end of the academic year were as fo llows : Women Men Sept. June Sept. June 71 62 54 Febmary Class Sophomores 59 J uniors 46 Seniors 26 Graduate Students I Totals 203 II 55 44 Annapolis Total Sept. June 56 125 39 39 19 9 33 37 20 98 85 45 118 20 88 81 47 200 151 155 354 355 34 32 26 17 109 58 37 22 46 28 19 12 105 107 81 47 27 262 81 59 45 29 214 Both Directors of Admissions, Michael Ham in his first year on the Annapolis campus and Gerald Zollars in his second year on the Santa Fe campus, did exceJJent j obs in the recruitment of this fall's entering classes. Comparative figures for 197-71 and 1971-72 follow: Annapolis Deposits Received Enrolled [nquirics Visitors 3,612 277 Wi thdrawn 197 1-7 2 257 202 3,383 AppUcations Accepted Rej ected 1970·71 265 18 1 60 80 125 125 319 44 Santa Fe 1970·71 241 182 50 74 128 128 83 108 106 3,867 208 1971·72 256 175 60 81 108 108 5,118 174 Once again there was a wide geograp hical distributio n of studen ts in the tw o entering classes. St. J ohn's College continues to be national rather than regional in its appeal to prospective students. (In each case the first figure is for An napolis, lhe second for Santa Fe). I 4 Florida Georgia I 6 Arkansas California 3 Colorado Connecticut 6 Mhsouri D.\.. 2 Alabama Alaska Arizona 3 15 11 2 z Neb,as)<a New Harnp. Hawaii illinois 2 Indiana 2 l owa Rhode Is. Z Kansas 2 Maine 2 0 2 2 Tennessee 2 New Jersey 9 New Mexico New York 21 Ohio Oregon Penna. 10 2 10 3 5 6 Texas Vermont Virginia 14 Wash. 2 W.Va. 2 Wisconsin 2 Wyoming 1 2 Kentucky Maryland Massachusetts Michigan Minnesota Austria I 20 4 5 2 2 3 Car'lada 14 England llongkong Japan S ingapore Turkey Totals 12 8 108 Th e Staff Freshmen 27 I I I Santa Fe Freshn'ler \ 10 49 Sophomores juniors Scnion Totals 44 25 16 134 11 128 The College suffered a real loss when J ulius Rosenberg resigned as Director of Development i11 order to accept an important position in Baltimore. !-Je had worked loyally and tirelessly for the College. Fortunately, the Directors of the Alumni Associa tion chose him to fill the unexpired term of Baker Middelton on the Board of Visitors and G overnors. Russell Leavenworth, of Fresno, Califo mia, was appointed as Interim Director of Development in J an-uary. He had been associated with the Provost and wi th Mr. Rosenberg for the preceding year and a half. T he Provost effected a number of organizational changes in the offices o f the Dean , the Registrar, and the Direc tor of Develo pment. Miss Miriam Strange, the perennial Registrar of the College, was appointed �October 1972 Co llege Archivist and Alu mni Secretary. i\lrs. Margaret l.<auck became the new Registrar. Within weeks of her appointment, however, she had to w1dergo a major opera tion from which she never recovered. Her death is mourned by the entire college communi ty. Mrs. Ch ristiana Whi te, who had moved from the Oea1 's office to the Development Office, 1 was then appointed Acting Registrar. Th01'n as Parran, Director o f Alumni Activities, was given additional duties in programmed or d eferred givi ng and certain o f his alumni duties were red istributed to o thers in the Development OHice. Mrs. Christine Co nstan tine, '72, jo ined the Development Office as an Intern. The major object ives in making all o f these changes were to diminish the administrative work in the Dean 's o ffi ce, to increase the capability and effe ctiveness o f the Development Office, and to establish a new area of fund-rajsing in a progra mmed giving o pera tion. Mrs. Chn"stine Consta11tine At its May meeting the Board institllled a pension plan for staff members whereby those who had completed at least fifteen years o f service and had altamed the age of 65 while still in the College's employ would be eligible to rece ive $7.50 per mo n th per yedr of service, the total not to exceed a maximum of $250 per month. The surviving spouse wo uld also be eligible to receive half of the pension for a period of up to ten yea rs from the date of the employee's d eath. T his plan applies primarily w o lder staff members. Yo unger and newer members will have available to them t he same retirement arrangements as faculty members. The Board also voted to make available to all staff members major medical insurance, decreasing li fe insurance, and disability insurance, in addition to the hospital and medical benefits a lready in effect. These provisions, which apply to both campuses, constitute appropriate and well-earned recogrutio n o f the fin e and dcdjcatcd service of staff members to the College over many years. Th e Libraries I n Nove mber the basement area o f t he new Tower Build ing was read y to become an auxiliary library for the Sa nta Fe campus. Mrs. Alice Whelan, the Librarian, repo rts an amazingly smooth transfer of three-quarters or the circ ula ting book collection, as well as all records and tapes. The new facility is serving the collc~c community well under the immcdjate supervisio n of Mrs. Beth Floyd. T he major acquisition proj ect of the year was an effort to bwld up secondary sources re lating to classic Greek and Roman authors. Once again the Library Associates Committee, under the able chairmanship of Richard Stem, made notable contributions to the Library, largely thro ugh its successful Book and Author Luncheons: The Art of Manl1ind ( 16 volumes), Henry Fielding's complete works ( 16 volumes), Hegel's Samtliche IVerke (26 volumes), Th e International Encyclopedw of the Social Sciences ( 17 volumes), Th e Medieval Scie11ce Series (1 4 volumes), Tudor Church Music ( l l volumes), and a collection of classic French drama, recorded by Lc Thea tre Na_ tional Po pulaire and La Comedic Francaise. Charlotte Fle tcher, t he Librarian on the Annapolis campus, reports a new peak in service to students and t u tors. The re was a rifty per cent increase in the books borrowed by students during the year. This reflects an impetus which began with t he beautiful renovated building a nd with the improvement in the book collectio n made possibk by T itle lJ gran ts. Major purchases include the /<."ncyclop edw Judaica, a new 20-volume editio n o f Hegel in German, Wallis' Opera Ma tlt errwtica , and a 17 68 edition or John Locke in four vo lumes. Bo th li braries find that the spiraling cost of new books res ults in a greatly decreased purchasing po wer or the annual book budgets. It seems clear that increased funds must be made available in the future. The Graduate Institute The 1972 sessio n o f t he Graduate Institute enro Ued 140 stude n ts. At the end o f the summer eighteen received the Mas ter of Arts d egree, bringin~ the to tal number of Institute graduates to 75. During the rruddle four weeks o f the session, sixteen inner-city high school students from Albuquerque, 11 �The College Baltimore, New York and Washin ~ton_ live~ . on campus pursuing a program of stt~d•es m pol!t•cal philosophy conducted by three Institute alumm and two St. J ohn's College seniors. According to the testimonials of most of these students, and the judsments of the staff, t~ey wer~ enormously an_d positively affected by the Ideal of m tellectual pursUit to which they were exposed. It is our hope that as a side-benefit from this program the College ~ill be able to reach more capable Blacks and H1spanos interested in enrolling as freshmen; at least three members of this first group expressed such interest. CarroU Barrister House immediately to the north. The infirmary and a colJegc guest suite are located on the first floor; the upper floor contains apartments for an assistant dean and for the College Nurse. A construction contract was awarded to Stehle, Beans and Bean, Inc., in December at a figure of $262,058. The new structure is largely the gift of Mrs. J ohn T . Harrison of Greens Farms, Connecticut, as a memorial to her late husband, J ohn T. Harrison, '07, for many years a member of the board of Visitors and Governors. The Alumni On December 4 , 197 1, a ribbon was cu t by Mr. and Mrs. J ohn Murchison, of Dallas, Texas, officially opening the new Tower Building at Santa Fe. Experience of the first ten months confirms the value of having centralized all administrative o ffices and of having freed from office use temporarily occupied classroom and dormitory space. The cost of the Tower Building, i11 cluding reserves for some furnishings still on order, was $582,932, all of which was fully funded. The Alumni Association completed another active year under the presidency of William R. Tilles '59. Homecoming was held in conjunction with the 275th Anniversary celebration of the Co llege wi th a large number o f alumni in attendance. At the dinner that evening alumni Awards of Merit were made to William B. Athey '32, Edward J . Dwyer '30, and Paul Mellon x'44. Dr. Eugene N. Cozzolino, '29, and J ohn D. Oostcrhoul, '51, were elected as Alumni representatives on the Board of Visitors and Governors for three-year terms. As already noted, J ulius Rosenberg, '38, was later chosen to fill the vacancy caused by the resignation of J . S. Baker Middelton, ' 38, who retired from business and moved to New Hampshire. Under Mr. Middelto n's conscientious chairmanship, an alumni committee gave consideration to the desirability of changing the name of the College so as to avoid confusion with church-related institutions and to re fl ect more accurately the College's program. A survey was cond ucted which showed that a large majority of alumni strongly favored continuing the St. J ohn's name. Both F ac ulties similarly expressed themselves. The Board voted at its May meeting to abandon any though t of a possible name ch ange .. Again this year alumni served the College m a variety of ways. Counseling sessions with seniors were held on graduate schools, Jaw schools, business and government. Interviews with prospective students were conducted in many parts of the country. In the area of fund- raising a total of $44,840 was received in ann ual giving, including a bequest of $12,000 fro m the estate of the late Vincent W. McKay, x'46. The su m of $306,890 was received from the estate of Richard H. Elliott, '17, thus establishing the permanent endowment for the Richard Hammond Elliott Tutorship. IIamson Health Center Desi~ned by J ames Wood Burch and William H. Kirby, J r., the new two·story Harrison Heal th Center on the Annapolis campus will be completed in time for the faU term. The building is in the shape of a Greek cross; its configuration, its red brick walls, and its slate roof blend harm oniously with the Charles 12 Tower Building Holzman Music and Fine Arts Center Ground was broken on August 23, 1972, for the Holzman Music and Fine Arts Center, a wing of the future library, to be located just south of the Peterson Student Center on the Santa Fe campus. Designed by William R. Buckley, the new structure will contain two music seminar rooms, a music library, and two practice rooms or offices on the first floor; a large listening lounge, an office, and a fin e arts studio on the second floor, and six pract ice rooms, a ceramics studio and mechanical equipment on the ground floor. The construction contract in the amount of $374,500 was awarded to J ohn C. Cornell, Jnc. of Clovis, New Mexico. Occupancy is planned for the late spring. Principal donor of the building is J ac Holzman, x'52, of New York City, a Visitor and Governor of the College, who is m aking the gift in memory of his grandparents. T he Kresge 'Foundation, of Detroit, Michigan, has helpfully voted a grant of $75,000 toward the cost of the building. A bequest from the late Miss Flora Conrad of Srulta Fe, an anonymous pledge from a Board member, and several smaller gifts accoun t for the balan ce of the financing. The Campuses Under the guiding hand of Arthur Kungle, '67, flower beds bloomed this year in many areas of the Annapolis campus. Mr. Kungle's horticultural knowfcdge and enthusiasm attracted many students who worked long hours planting and weeding. The campus has never looked better, nor have studen ts ever taken more in terest in its ap pearance. The Provost calls Mr. Ku ngle's dedication and service invaluable and speaks for the college community in expressing gratitude. At �October 1972 1 the same time a tree conditioning program has been undertaken and new trees have been planted to replace those which had to be removed as potential dangers to life and limb. At Santa Fe the College was successful in preserving its clear and unobstructed vista to the north. Upon earnest entreaty, the developer who proposed to buy and seek rezoning for twelve acres of land immediately adjacent to the campus withdrew the option to buy and the request for rezoning. It is hoped that friends will now purchase the property and give it to the College. In March the residence of the late Witter Bynner was deeded to the College. Through the generosity of Mr. and Mrs. Dean Haggard a loan has been advanced to recondition this property and make it suitable as an off. campus residence for a dozen students. St. john 's Film During the year the San.ta Fe campus commis· sioned Mr. Carroll Williams to produce a short twelve· minute color-sound film on the College. The film will be ready for distribution this fall. It is expected to help materially with the recruitment of students, particularly since the Admissions Office plans activity in the relatively new territory of the mid-West. The film will be shown to teachers, counsellors, prospective students, and to alumni groups and prospective donors as well. The seminar sequence in particular seems to be well done. Finances In a year when many colleges and universities have experienced severe financial difficulties St. John's College on both its campuses fared surprisingly well. The Annapolis campus closed the year with a small deficit of $11,036, all of which was met from a reserve fund. Expenditures amounted to $1,991,859, exceeding the budget by $41,000. Total revenues came to $1,980,823. Th.is surpassed expectations by $30,000. The Santa Fe Campus was even more fortunate, since it completed the year with a modest surplus of $3,346. Total revenues came to $1,783,916, as compared with expenditures and appropriations o{ $1,780,570. Savings of $75,978 were effected on the budget which was adop ted a year ago. A considerable part o f this was in financial aid to students. It is college policy to ask sch.olarship students to use their own funds during the first semester and to apply grants during the second semester. This saving there· fore resulted from scholarship students who left the Co llege in the middle of the year and therefore did not benefit fully from funds awarded to them. As .Burchenal Ault, Vice President in Santa Fe, correctly states, ru1 institution's budget is one of its clearest statements of intention and its most pttrposeful and effective evaluations of priorities. The budgets for the coming year are the largest in the College's history, $2,192,508 on the Annapolis campus and $1,949,080 on the Santa Fe campus. The new faculty salary scale rangin& from just under $10,000 for a new tutor twenty-stx years of age to a maximum of $19,500 represents a needed upward adjustment in compensation. Furthermore, removal of any limitat ion on the number of annual service increments will do greater justice to the more senior members of the Faculty. At the same time administrative salaries and expenses have been held to previous levels as far as possible. Increased student fees of $3,900 have been offset in part by major increases in financial aid to undergraduates. On J anuary 1, 1971 the College's investment portfolio was placed under the supervision of T. Rowe Price and Associates, Inc., of Baltimore, Maryland. By instruction of the Finance Committee the portfolio was divided into two parts, one for growth and one for income. As of J une 30, 1972, the endowment principal totaled $9,676,130 in market value as compared with a book value of $8,702,149. The growth fund had a total accomplishment index of 147.3 with an annual yield of 1.7%; the income fund a total accomplishment index of 111 with an annual yield of 6.5%. The College continued to adhere to the total yield concept drawing down 6% of the average market value of the endowment fund over the past three years. As of July l, 1972 the Santa Fe campus placed $130,330 in the investment pool at a unit value of $11.7399. Public Relations During the year an an hoc committee was appointed to study the publication, The College. Members were Russell Leavenworth, Director of Development, Deborah Traynor, Robert L. Spaeth, Edward M. Wyatt, Tutors, and Mrs. John Oosterhout, '55, speaking for the alumni. As a result of the com1mttee's study publication of The College became an in-house operation upon an offset press purchased by the College. Jeffrey Sinks, '73, is in charge of the new facility which will be used by the Admissions Office and other offices as well. The cost of pub· lishing The College annually has been reduced from $ 16,000 to $5,000 as a result of this change. Much of the labor cost is expended for student aid. During the year ahead the ad hoc committee will continue as a permanent editorial committee. Mr. Spaeth succeeds Mr. Wyatt as editor. The Caritas Society and the Annapolis Friends of St. J ohn's continued their activities on behalf of the College. The Development Office provides coordination and clerical help to these organizations. The most noteworthy event of the past year was an ail-day symposium on "Women in Focus through the '70's," conducted jointly by the Caritas Society and the Annapolis Chap ter of the American Association of University Women. The Key Memorial was filled 13 �The College for the morning and afternoon sessions which featured such speakers as: De Barbette Blackington, Director of the International institute for Women Studies; J ane Howard, author and LIFE writer; Barbara Mik ulski, Baltimore City Councilwoman; Anais Nin, author of D£ar£es: and Marlo Thomas, actress. In Santa Fe the Boards of Associates from Albuquerque, Los Alamos, and San ta Fe met periodically to gain new understandings about the College. Under Mr. J\ult's leadership an Indian Table was instituted whereby interested persons from outside and within the College met monthly for dinner to hear a speaker on L ndian cuiLUre. A successio n of interesting sho ws in the gallery o n the balcony of the dining hall attracted much local interest_ Among these were the work of Fritz Holder, a jo int exhibition by Peter Hurd and his wife, Henriette Wyeth Hurd, Public Architecture in the Southwest by John Gaw Meem, and the Lessing Rosenwald Collection of 15th and 16th century prints by Albrecht Durer, and others on loan from the National Gallery of Art. The College and Community Chamber Orchestra gave two concerts, one conducted by Henry Schuman of 1 ew York City, who spen t a week in residence on campus. These activities and the regular Friday evening lectures and concerts have won for the College a firm place in the affections of the community. 275th Anniversary Fund At the end of the first year i11 the three-year Anniversary Fund campaign, the half-way point has been reached. New girts and pledges received since the drive opened J uly 1. 1971, have been less than hoped for since they amounted to only $1,560,311. The Annapolis campus sent out over a hundred proposals to foundations with very little success. Both campuses have been slow in organizational efforts, but hopefully city solicitation committees will begin active work this fa ll. Against its campaign goal of $5,000,000, the Annapolis campus has now raised $1,810,1 51; against its goal o r $10,000,000, the Santa Fe campus has now raised $5,568,345 . Gifts and Grants During the year a total of $753,256 was received in new gifts and pledge payments on the Annapolis campus and $1,115,393 on the Santa Fe campus. The two charts below show sources of these gifts and grants and the purposes to which they were applied: A nnapoli.s Donors Board Faculty, Staff, Students National Committee Alumni Paren ts Friends Fo undations Corporations Government Purposes Unrestricted Library Scho larships Graduate Institute Special Projects Endowment Plant Debt repayment jeffrey Sinks {'73 ), Editor of the Collegian and Manager of the St. John's Press. 10,277 3.604 394,732 3 ,095 34,264 106,850 26,934 173,500 $ 753,256 $ 205,155 150 2,665 19,598 352,259 173,429 s 753,256 Sante Fe $ 734,704 8,880 14,738 2,232 43,338 92,351 160,710 13,380 45,050 $ 1,115,393 $ 620,982 6,584 48,109 104,670 74,948 155,100 105,000 $ 1,115,393 The College is deeply grateful to all of its alumni and friends, to corporations and foundations, and to faculty, staff and Board members, who by their gifts and grants have demonstrated commitment to St. John's College and confidence in the future of this exemplar of the liberal arts upo n its two campuses. Once again in the year ahead we will need to loo k to these same friends - and to new ones - for something over a million dollars, a quarter of the total to balance the eastern budget ru1d three-quarters to underwrite the western. 14 l �October 1972 Television Seminars Dean Go. dwin devoted considerable time during l the academic year to conducting a series of fifteen one-hour television seminars. Three students partici· pated regularly, Mrs. Christine Constantine, '72, Michael Jordan, • 73, and Steven Sedlis, '73. J oAnn Morse, '74 was an altern ate. For each seminar there was an invited guest. For example, Alexander Bickel of the Yale Law Schoo. participated in the seminar ! on Plato's Crito; Robert Novak, the columnist, in the seminar on Aristotle's Politics; Senator Charles Mathias in the seminar on The Prince; Huw Wheldon of the British Broadcasting Corporation in the seminar on As You Lihe Tt; Senator Charles Percy in the seminar on The Federalist No. 1 0; Admiral james Calvert of the United States Naval Academy in the seminar on Billy Budd; and Representative Abner Mikva in the seminar o n the political thought of Abraham Lincoln. The project was financed by the Maryland Center for Public Broadcasting with partial assistance thro ugh a grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities. The video tapings are to be shown over educational television channels this fall and winter. The Public Broadcasting Service Library has accepted the entire series for national distribu tion. The Dean says that in his opinion none of t he programs disgrace the College and that some are really excellent examples of good seminar discussion. He notes that only time will tell whether the efforts required to produce the seminars were justified. The academic year that was concluded in June was the thirty-fifth since inauguration of the present curriculum at St. John's College. The fall of 1972 is a far cry from that of 193 7 when less than sixty freshmen enrolled on a bankrupt and dilapidated campus in Annapolis. By contrast St. J o hn's College today is a nourishing enterprise, which has expanded to a second campus in the Southwest without sacri· ficing the integrity of its educational program or the sense of dose community which animates t he Col· lege. From less than 150 students in 1937, enrollment has grown to over 650, the Faculty from some twenty to nearly a hL mdred. Graduates of St. John's are indeed fulfilling the goal of the 1784 Charter by "discharging the various offices and duties of life, both civil and religious, with usefulness and reputation,..." No longer can this college be termed an experiment, as it was in the late thirties. The concept an.d practice of liberal education at St.John's College have earned for trus small but venerable institution a respected place upon the American educational scene. Richard D. Weigle President Santa Fe, New Mexico September 1, 1972 15 [ �1/rl 0\ St. J ohn's College Annapolis, Maryland Comparative Balance Sheet, July 1, 1971 - June 30, 1972 ASSETS LIABILTfiES AND FUND BALANCES CURRENT FUNDS 1971 s 50,830 Unrestricted Cash. ln\'estrnrots ·At Cost Account. Receh'llble Due from St. John's College Santa Fe Other Receivables Dderred Expenses Bookstore Inventory 1972 s 44 ,026 157 4,316 17,878 1,503 442 25,514 $100,640 Restricted Cash loans Receivable Investments- At Cost 157 5,094 16,769 14,152 19,376 26,595 $126,169 $317,331 840 12,169 $330,340 S430,980 Total Current Funds LOAN FUNDS Cash Student Loans Receivable National Direct Studeut Loans $ 7,014 840 278,230 $286.084 5,893 2,031 146,290 s 13,011 $154,214 ENDOWMENT FUNDS Cash Friedland Student Loans Faculty Home Loam Santa Fe Campus Note Other Investment Cash Account Investments - At Cost 5,680 6,759 141,221 1,375,625 $ 225,992 6,578,456 $ 30,354 6,288 159,117 1,265,594 1,0 10 79,354 7,161,370 $8,335,474 s 8,703,097 $ ~740 PLANT FUJ\'DS Cash Total Plan t Funds Total Funds 64,363 375,677 5,194,327 394,220 325 79,158 375,677 5,373.537 394,221 6,028,587 $ 6,222,918 $ 14,949,255 $ 15,513,044 Investments ·At Cost Land and Campus Improvement Buildings Equipment - s Restricted Fw1cl Balllnces Due to Other Funds s 19,478 $ 23,583 230 56,279 31,487 14,590 $126,169 44,249 2~,453 13,460 $ 100,640 s 329,843 497 s 330,340 s $ 430,980 $ 412,253 IS7,~90 $ 159,191 15,585 $ 286,084 Total Current Funds LOAN FUNDS Federal Ad\'llnces for NOS Loans Fund Balances S 286,084 $174,776 731 161,034 $ Total Endowment Funds Unrestricted AccountS Payable Due to Other Funds Student Advance lkposits Deferred Income Reserve (or Future Operations 641 2,253 $ Total Loan Funds CURRENT FUNDS 16,624 $ 154,214 s ENDOWMENT FUNDS Principal, Unrenricted as to Income Principal, Restricted as to Income Reservation of Profits- Sale of Securities Unexpetldcd Income $ 7,187,807 958,820 186,38 ] 2,466 s 7,530,05 7 Total Endowment FWJds $ 8,335,4 74 $ 8,703,097 Total Loan Funds PLA!-:T FUNDS Due to Other Funds Investment in Plant Unexpended Plant Funds $ 1.917 !>,964.224 62.446 Total Plant Funds s Total f'unds $ 14,949,255 6,028,587 174,776 972,207 199,885 948 $ 6,143,435 79,483 s 6,222,918 s 15,513,044 �IW ...:=,, "'- -~ St.John's College Santa Fe, New Mexico Comparative Balance Sheet, July 1, 1971 - June 30,1972 ASSETS LIABfLITIES AND FUND BALANCES CURRENT FUNDS 197 1 Unrestricted Cash Investments • At Cost Accounts Receivable Due from Other Funds Prepaid Expenses Bookstore Inventory $ - s 12,740 1,000 144,064 26,402 $169,125 s s s $ 62,039 s $ 207,125 $ 44,000 2,443 15,596 Total Endowment Funds s 207,125 $210,910 ENDOWMENT FUNDS Cash Receivables Investments - At Cost $ 184,206 $210,910 Total Life Estate Funds Total Funds s 355,778 3,668 1,000 139,782 24,675 LIFE ESTATE FUNDS Due from Other Funds -..J $ 42,122 174,388 $216,510 s Total Loan Funds .... - $391,831 Total CuJTent Funds Bond Sinking Fund Investments Land and Campus Improvements Buildings Construction in Progress Equipment and Furnishings Library Books Total Plant Funds 38,480 16,340 11 ,747 .51,072 21,629 s 139,268 $238,505 3,226 $241,731 LOAN FUNDS Cash United Student Aid Deposit National Direct Student Loans Other Student Loans Investments s 5,084 .59,718 34,956 27,236 23,106 $1.50,100 Restricted Cash Investments- At Cost PLANT FUNDS Cash 1972 $ 135,757 91,286 185,000 136,774 315,495 4,874,412 284,743 436,757 77,452 6,401,919 7,235,824 9,881 - 125,876 s 1,038 18.5,226 154,479 314,024 5,403,448 - 472,567 116,969 6,647,751 s s 7,530,617 CURRENT FUNDS 1971 Unrestricted Note Payable Accounts Payable Due to Annapolis Campus Due to Other Funds Deferred Income Reserve for Future Operations 1972 s s Restricted Fund Balances Due to Other Funds .s 10,000 15,984 16,769 19,631 75,987 897 $ 139,268 13,627 17,878 20,512 93,815 4,268 150,100 s 216,510 $ 222,740 18,99 1 $ 241 ,731 $ 391,831 Total Current Funds - $ 216,510 $ 355,778 LOAN FUNDS Federal Advances for NDS Loans College Loan Fund Balance Due to Other Funds $126,714 29,394 13,017 s 155,600 Total Loan Funds $ 169,125 s 184,206 $ 210,910 $ 207,125 $210,910 $ 207 ,1 25 $ 62,039 $ 135,757 s $ 135 ,757 LIFE ESTATE FUNDS Liabilitv 10nder A!(!'Cements To tal Life Estate Funds ENDOWMENT FUNDS Fund Balances Total Endowment Funds PLANT FUNDS Note Payable Loan Payable to t\nnapolis Campus Dormitory Bon<is • Series 1964 Series 1966 Due to Other Funds Net Investment in Plant Unexpended Plant Funds Dormitory Bond Sinking Fund 28,606 - 62,039 $ $ 1,375,625 838,000 855,000 199,399 2,722,836 274,285 136,i74 2,154 I, 265,594 824,000 840,000 187.494 3,187,766 186,264 154,479 Total Plant Funds s 6,401,919 $ 6,647,751 Total Funds $ 7,235,824 $ 7,530,617 �ST.JOHN'S COLLEGE Annapolis. Maryland Santa Fe , New Mexico CONDENSED STATEMENTS OF REVENUE AND EXPENDITURES Fiscal Years Ended June 30, 1971 and 1972 ANNAPOLIS 1970·7 1 197 1·72 REVENUES Educational and General Tuition Endowment Income Gifts and Grants Graduate Institute Gmnts State of Maryland Grants Student financial Aid Miscellaneous T otals Auxiliary Enterprises Bookstore Dining Hall Dorrnito ries Totals Total Revenues s 784,578 418,754 186,190 $ 902,155 414,987 193,329 87,464 18,242 $ 1,495,228 SANTA FE 1970·71 1971·72 s 625,291 2,833 554.932 89,445 $640,126 !>,122 673,744 90,!>84 23,.5 00 87, 11 7 16,465 Sl,550,416 40,713 3 1,573 $1,344,787 45 ,324 34,890 $ 1,489,790 47 ,798 161,390 139,7 80 $ !118,968 48,486 166,03 1 128,773 $ 343,290 33,875 140,260 125,355 $ 299,490 36,147 137,163 120,8 16 $ 294,126 $1,844,196 $1 ,980,823 $1,644,277 $1,783,916 191,57 1 183 ,392 750,562 $ 28!1,220 145,130 817,361 $ 213,14·8 145,674 566,277 151,110 27,160 186.022 $1,289,391 EXPENDITURES Educational and General Administrative General Instruction Graduate Institute S tudent Activities Opemtion & Maintenance Totals Auxiliary Enteq>rises Book Store Dining Hall Dormitories (Debt SeMce) Totals 15,391 332,652 $1,473,568 - 19,194 338,306 $1,608,211 $ 205,283 159,586 5 13,77 1 11 7,688 25,667 160,013 $1,182,008 s 46,127 150.259 $ 49,550 148.950 $ $ 196,386 s 198,500 s $ 174,242 s 185,148 s 174,242 s 185,148 s $ ~iiscellaneous Student financial Aid Federal Programs Capital Appropriations Totals Total Expenditures Exoess Revenue or (Expenditures) 18 - $ 51,844,196 34,1 4 1 103,383 109,302 246,826 $ 17 1,170 17,094 22,9 12 211.176 33,97!\ 89,889 109,303 233,167 s s 189,348 16,369 52,295 $ 258,0 12 $ 1,991,859 $1,640,010 $1,780,570 ( $1 1,036) $ $ 4,267 3,346 �-1'---·ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE Annapolis, Maryland PERMANENT ENDOWMENT FUNDS,jWle 30, 1972 Gift of Donor TUTORSHIP ENDOWMENTS: Richard Hammond Elliott, 1917 Andrew W. MeUoo Addison E. Mullikin, 1895 Arthur de Talma Valk, 1906 1.0 - $ 306,865 $ 1,989,953 150,216 $2,447,034 2,679,846 500,000 150,000 $3,329,846 - SCHOLARSHIP ENDOWMENTS: Annapolis Self Help 15,000 $ George M. Austin, 1908 25,000 WalterS. Baird, 1930 5,000 Chicago Regional 3,070 Class of 1897 8,672 Class of 1898 87,933 Dr. Charles Cook 13,705 George E. Cunniff m, 1930 135 Faculty 32,463 john T. Harrison·, 1907 25,025 Hillh ouse High School, 1927 9,667 Richard H. Hodgson, 1906 150,250 Alfred and Ruth Houston, 1906 42,787 Houston Regional 500 Jesse H. Jones and Mary Gibbs jones 36,000 Robert E. and Margaret Larsh Jones, 1909 31,533 Arthur E. and Hilda Combs Landers, 1930 5,445 22,685 Massachusetts Regional Philip A. Myers U, 1938 19,362 Oklahoma Regional 26,000 Thomas Parran, 1911 6,165 Pittsburgh Regional 560 Reader's Digest Foundation 12,500 Clifton A. Roeh1e 7,056 Murray J oe1 Rosenberg 3,356 Hazel Norris and J. Graham Shannahan 1908 3,664 Clarence Stryker 3,668 Friedrich]. Von Schwerdtncr 1,552 $ 598,753 - A . W. Mellon Foundation Matching Gift ALUMNI AND MEMORIAL ENDOWMENTS Granville Q. Adams, 1929 $ 1,100 6,125 Charles Edward Athey, 1931 William C. Baxter, 1923 25 Drew H. Beatty, 1903 600 Or. William Brewer, 1823 125 Frederick W. Brune, 1874 855 Benjamin Duvall Chambers, 1905 2,638 Henry M. Cooper, J r., 1934 1,000 Helen C. and George Davidson, Jr., 1916 21,025 Walter I. Dawkins, 1880 58,683 Robert F.Duer,Jr. 1921 3,365 Dr. Philip H. Edwards, 1898 1,135 $ 15,000 25,000 Total Fund Principal $ 306,865 2,679,846 2,489,953 300,216 $5,776,880 s 3,070 - 135 2,359 20,025 7,367 150,250 2,500 500 36,000 - 22,685 9,000 26,000 - - 560 - - 3,413 $ $ 323,864 - $ - - - s 200 125 507 1,000 - 335 985 30,000 50,000 5,000 6,140 8,672 87,933 13,705 270 34,822 45,050 17,034 300,500 45,287 1,000 72,000 31,533 5,445 45,370 28,362 52,000 6,165 1,120 12,500 7,056 3,356 3,664 7,081 1,552 922,61 7 1,100 6,125 25 800 250 1,362 2,638 2,000 21,025 58,683 3,700 2,120 joseph W. fastncr,Jr., 1960 2,000 AUen Lester fowler, 1915 500 Edna G. and Roscoe E. Grove, 1910 16,556 Charles W. Hass, 1927 40 Dr. Amos F. Hutchins, 1906 658 Clarence T.johnson, 1909 100 ClifJord L.johnson, 1911 100 He.len B. Jones and Robert O.jones,l916 18,357 jonathan D. Korshin, 1966 200 Oliver M. Korshin, 1963 200 5,140 Dr. W. Oscar LaMotte, 1902 23,223 John H. E. Legg, 1921 William Lentz, 1912 1,020 Leola B. and Thomas W. Ligon, 1916 5,000 Harrison McAlpine, 1909 325 Vincent W. McKay, 1946 9,000 Robert F. Maddox, 1876 650 12,219 The Rev. William L. Mayo, 1899 Ridgely P. Melvin, 1899 100 WiUiam S. MorseU, 1922, Athletic Fund 5,000 John Mullan, 1847 10,000 Walter C. Mylander,Jr., 1932 5,133 M. Keith Neville, 1905 1,000 Dr. john 0. Neustadt, 1939 1,109 Blanchard RandaU, 1874 851 Susan Irene Roberts, 1966 652 Leroy T. Rohrer, 1903 100 Harrison Sasscer, 1944 4,551 Charles H. Schoff, 1889 500 28,633 Henry F. Sturdy, 1906 The Rev. Enoch M. Thompson, 1895 3,000 John T. Tucker, 1914 2,500 125 Dr. RobertS. C. Welch, 1913 Willis H. White, 1922 625 $ 255,843 LECTURESHIP ENDOWMENTS Fund for Tomorrow $ Clare Eddy and Eugene V. Thaw, 1947 $ UBRARY ENDOWMENTS Alumni Memorial Book fund Benwood Foundation Mary Safford Hoogcwerff Library Fund EUen C. Murphy Henry H. and Cora Dodson Sasscer Newspaper Fund E1ma R. and Charles D. Todd Clara B. Weigle j ack \V' tlen Fou.odation in Memory of Murray Joel Rosenberg $ - 633 - 7,563 - - - - 1,020 - - $ $ 325 -100 5,000 10,000 1,000 - - 330 100 500 3,000 $ 125 625 33,973 3,000 10,900 13,900 $ 3,000 355 25,000 31,683 560 1,500 $ 1,000 82,294 22,872 5,247 28,119 2,000 1,000 16,556 40 1,291 100 100 25,920 200 200 5,140 23,223 2,040 5,000 650 9,000 650 500 - $ 5 19,500 $ J - 400 1,500 $ 10,000 20,000 5,133 2,000 1,109 1,181 652 200 4,551 1,000 28,633 6,000 2,500 250 1,250 J 289,816 s - J 12,~~ 3,000 25,000 1,500 19,500 1,196 $ LOAN FUND ENDOWMENTS George Friedland John David Pyle, 1962 - 46,400 20,000 1,470 21,470 6,000 10,900 16,900 355 50,000 31,683 960 3,000 1,500 39,000 1,196 1,000 $ 128,694 $ 42,872 6,717 $ 49,589 0 (") ..,. 0 cr ,.. .... - <0 -...1 1\:) �N 0 PRIZE ENDOWMENTS Philo Sherman Bennett Floyd Hayden James R. McClintock, 1965 Mrs. Blair T. Scott Kathryn Milroie Stevens Millard Tydings Amos W. W. WoodCO<>k SANTA F E ENDOWMENT FUNDS 308 77 H7 518 1,250 1,000 2,000 5,61 0 $ $ $ - Reservation of ProfitsSale of Securities Total Endowment Principal $ $ 25 $ 1,000 1,025 $ OTHER ENDOWMENTS Hn-tha S. and jesse L. Adams Concert Fund $ 60,000 George A. Bingley Memorial l~und 17.600 Scott Buchanan Memorial Fund 5,770 10,000 H.A.B. Ow1ning Memorial fund Monterey Mackey Memorial Fund 600 Emlly Boyce Mackubin Fund 75,192 124,349 Kate Moo re Myen Landscaping Fund Adolph W. Schmidt Fund 15,628 Richard Sco field Memorial Fund 1,345 Daniel E. and Jessie N. Weigle Memoria.! Fund 2,500 19,325 Victor Zuckcrkandl Me morial fund 206,112 Alurnni Endowment Fund 526,404 General Endowment Fund $1,064,825 Total Andrew W. Mellon Foundation Grants - 60,000 17,600 5,770 10,000 600 75,192 124,349 15,628 1,345 - - 186,309 - s 246,309 s 2.500 19,325 39 2,421 526,-w4 ",311 ,1 34 4,005,887 Graduate Institu te Helen & Everett Jones Scholarships fund Public Scnice Co. of ~ew Mexico Readers Digest Fou ndation Scholarship Fund Nina Otero Warren Memorial Schol:ushii>S Fund General 199,885 s 8,702,150 s 162 31),000 1,000 7,500 1,875 2,103 s 42,640 Library Endowments Emlcn Davies Memoria l Angeline Eaton Memorial Nina Garson Memorial Edith B. King Memorial Brad ley Skeele Memorial Dr. C('Orge Stewart Memorial Duane L. Peterson ~icmorial Wi nfield Townly Scolt Memorial Clara B. Weigle Memorial Victor Zuckerkandl Other Memorisls Life Memberships Genera l 4,005,887 $ s Scholarship Endowments $ 120,000 - 199,885 $4,696,263 $ 308 102 457 518 1,250 1,000 5,000 6.635 s s 1,118 1,150 2,000 500 550 500 800 2,499 600 4,200 13,728 13,005 748 41,398 Other Endowrnenu Henry Austin Poetry Prize Fund Fie tcher Catro n Memorial Margo Dawn Gerber Prize fund Eliubetb R. & Alvin C. Graves Memorial .Margaret Milliken Hatch Memorial Dr. Plorence Kluckhohn Frank Patania Memorial E. l. "Tommy" Thompson ~iemorial Millard E. Tyings Pri7.c Fund Claro B. Weigle Memorial jessie N. & Dan E. Weigle Memorial General Total Endowment funds s s 4.500 1,400 1,14 1 8,881 25,000 1,000 3,340 1.920 1,000 3,600 2,500 306 54,588 $138.626 �'lln Interview with J3ar6ara f:eonaro R obert Spaeth, Editor of The College, interviewed Miss Barbara Leonard in September, 1972. ROBERT SPAETH: Miss Leonard, you've been a Tutor at St. J ohn's for 20 years. Yo u came when the first girls came, when St. John's became co-educational in 1951. Has co-education proved to be a success at St.John's? BARBARA LEONARD: Well, I would say that it certainly has. There were 24 girls in that entering class - they came in as Freshmen. At the present time almost half the student body, or close to 180 students, are women. I think if you check the records of the graduating class, a good share of the honors have been earned by the women students. In the last te n years th e silver medal offered by the Board of Visitors and Governors to the Senior who has the highest standing has been awarded five ti mes to women. SPAETH: T here had becn only men at St. J ohn'sfor many , many years. Was there a period of adjustme nt when the men became used to having girls in class and on the campus? LEONARD: There was an adjustment in the first year just getting used to having them around, having them in the dining hall. It wasn't a problem in the Freshman class since it was a co-educational group that came in. It was a problem for the sophomores, juniors and seniors. The girls who came in were mainly older ones; some of them were wives of stu· dents who were already in college so that they had had some contact with the program. There was obviously more adj ustment, I think, on the part of the men than there was on the part of the women. SPAETH : Do you remember very well the first class that included women? LEONARD: Yes, I do, very much so- All o f us, with the exception of the married ones, lived in Randall. 1 had two rooms there. Three of th e married ones lived with their husbands in the housing units near the 21 �The College location of the present Heating Plant. The wife of one of the present Tutors was a member of that class, Mrs. Kutler (Emily Jane Martin); in fact her husband was a sophomore at that time. Mr. Sacks, who is a Tutor, was also a sophomore al that time. Barbara Brunner, one of the first women, is now Mrs. J ohn Oosterhout, the wife of an alumnus who is also a member of the Board of Visitors and Governors. There were three wives of students; one was a regis· tered nurse, Lydia Aston, who after she graduated can1e back and was College Nurse for two or three years. There were several who had two or three years at other colleges such as Barnard and Swarthmore, and there were - a minority, T think- who entered right out of high school. One married lady, Ruth Barron, was in her mid-forties. SPAETH: Have the girls in the classes of the 60's and 70's been different from those early classes? LEONARD : Well, that's a hard question to answer because we've always had some older girls in all the entering classes. The younger ones coming in from high school now are more mature in many ways than students coming into the College 20 years ago would have been. They have been exposed to more things, have had more varied experiences than students used to have at the high school level; things that used to be encountered first in college are now encountered in high schools and junior high schools. SPAETH: You were also the first woman Tutor at St.John's. Was there any adjustment necessary on the faculty's part? LEONARD: Well, I can't speak for the rest of the facu lty. I had a lot of adjusting to do. It wasn't such a problem adjusting to being in a male environment because I had done my graduate work on a men's campus and had broken in as the first woman &rradu· ate assistant on the men's campus at the University of Rochester. My adjustment came in getting used to trying to learn E uclid and Greek, teach biology with a new approach - the so-called St. John's approach and co-leading a seminar with Jacob Klein . This was all rather difficult since I had not been in contact with anything but zoology since I had graduated quite a few years before, so that I was forced to think in areas that had not been my primary concern. SPAETH: It's also true that you came not only as a T utor, but as an Assistant Dean, which means that you immediately plunged into all sorts of academic and non-academic problems of students. You have continued to be an Assistant Dean for these 20 years; could you say why you've persisted in dealing with 22 - difficult problems for that long? LEONARD: Well, I must admit that sometimes wonder myself. However, I do enjoy working with the students and I think the relationship as Assistant Dean and Tutor is the ideal relationship. I certainly wouldn't want to be an Assistant Dean if I weren't actively engaged in teaching. The students, in addition to experiencing the problems similar to those of any student going to college, have particular problems that arise out of the program. One of these is the problem that appears when on e questions one's beliefs. And I think the students need someone to go to who can give them some foundation or can restore a little perspective and can reassure them that the world does go on and caution them that it is not wise to question everything all at once. SPAETH: Perhaps you would explain what the job or an Assistant Dean is. LEONARD: It really amounts to almost everything that isn't done in the classroom. We arc concerned with the health of the students, their housing, their emotional problems, their financial problems. When I frrst came, the financial aid was all done in our office, mainly by me. Any placement that was done was handled through our office. Now there is a special officer for Financial Aid and Placement. Discipline, both academic and non-academic, is handled by the Assistant Deans. The welfare in general of the students outside of the classroom is really the responsibility of the Assistant Dean's office. Now even details of class scheduling are part of the Assistant Dean's duties. SPAETH: Have the problems of the students that you've had to deal with over these 20 years changed from the early 50's to the early 70's? LEONARD: l think the problems have remained pretty much the same. Some things have become more open; things that used to be considered taboo now are accepted in society at large so that they don't cause the problems that they used to cause. There have been changes in the patterns in the students' reactions to problems. At one period violent hysterics was the way that quite a few of the students released their tensions. That is now old-fashioned, and you very seldom see a case of real hysterics. The students have developed other ways of coping or not coping with problems. Some of these ways are better, some of them possibly worse. SPAETH: 1 remember hearing a story - 1 don't know for sure whether it is true - that on occasion you would give a teddy bear or a ragdo ll to one of the �October 1972 girls who was upset. Is this true, or is it someth ing that you and the students involved would deny? LEONARD: Well, the students might deny it, but it worked at times with certain students. SPAETH: Throughout these years you've also taught in the program a great deaL You came as a profes· sional biologist, but I know you've taught in other areas of tl1e program. Could you say something abo ut how you made progress in the St. John's program? You said earlier that you began co-leading a seminar with Mr. Klein and that you were lcaming Gree k in your early years. What parts of the program have you become invo lved in? LEONARD: Well, in the first few years in addition to teaching in the laboratory - the first year then was biology for the first semester and measurement the second semester - and co-leading the seminar, T audited as much as I could. Subsequently, I have taught in the freshman, sophomore and junior mathe· matics tutorials. I have taught all the first three years of the laboratory program and have audited the fourth year. I've co-led the seminars of all four years and I have taught beginning Greek class. I have also audited part of the senior math and part of the Music tutorial. SPAETH: Twenty years ago it must have seemed an unlikely possibility to a biologist that you'd be teaching Greek. How did you make the plunge into that area? LEONARD: It so happens that when I entered Oberlin College as a F reshman, I was going to be a classics major. That was before I had taken my bio· logy course. I had no science until my sophomore year in college. Then I decided that 1 really preferred science, and I dropped the Greek. Therefore, I had had an introduction to Greek and had studied it at one time, so the plunge might not be as drastic as it looks at first sight. SPAETH: Has it been possible for you to keep up with the field of biology while you've been so busy with teaching other parts of the program and doing the job of an Assistant Dean? LEONARD: It has been very difficult to do that. The only way I can keep up at all is through reading and through contacts I have made during my sabbatical leaves. On my first sabbatical leave I taught biology in two Indian colleges; one at the undergraduate level and one at the graduate level, and during that time I had a chance to bring myself up to date somewhal. And this past sabbatical 1 had similar opportunities to catch up a litt le bit, but I certainly could not say that I have been able to keep up the way a research biologist or even a full-time teacher of biology should. SPAETH: St. J ohn's students study the entire program; that means that all of our students study biology. Have you found in your teaching of biology that students find it interesting, important, no matter what their inclination is, or can you reach, in a significant way, only a fraction of the students? LEONARD: I think you will always find a certain number of students who cannot see the reason for the laboratory, whether the subj ect matter is biology or physics. They put up with it because it is part of the program. Some of them think that they've had all the biology they need or just aren't interested in the dissection part or cannot understand what biology can possibly offer them. They are the ones, sometimes, I think, who don't know enough to know what they are missing. SPAETH : Perhaps we could talk a little about your experience in teaching in India. A few years ago St. John's had an Indian lady as a Tutor, Ida Doraiswamy, whom you and I both know very well. Perhaps you could tell us how you made your con· tacts with India and how you met Miss Doraiswamy and what teaching you have done in India. LEONARD: Well, my contact was made through an association in Oberlin who had connections with the two colleges in India where I taught, and I went out there in the summer of 1959 with my sister who was visiting these colleges, and at that time the principal of Lady Doa k College wanted me to stay and teach. I 23 �told her I would come back on my sabbatical, which I did. I applied for a Fulbright Award and went as a Fulbright Lecturer and Honorary Professor of Zoology . SPAETH: I believe that was in 1962. LEONARD: That was in 1962-63. I taught a genetics course and an embryology course there. The teaching is done in English, so the language was no problem . The problem is that there are no textbooks for the students, so you have to give them the factual information. You have to teach from a syllabus on which questions for the final exam are based. The examination is given by the University, and anything the student does in the class during the year has no bearing on his fmal standing for the year - that is, you have no control over the grade the student will get - everything depends upon how the student does in the examination. This restricts your teaching pretty much to the material that is given in the syllabus. You don't do the student a favor by branching off into topics that aren't covered by the syllabus. It was a little difficul t for me coming from the St. J ohn's method of teaching to have to confine myself to lectures, and mainly factual lectures at lhat. However, in the postgraduate program I had more leeway - that was a co-educational program. While I was there I filled in in two mathematics classes for a teacher who had the mumps. Miss Doraiswamy knew that I had taugh t math at St. J ohn's College. This was unusual in India because at that time zoologists, once they had decided to major, which they do at the end of the first year of college, can no longer take mathematics even if they wan t it. And I also gave a paper at a post-graduate five-college mathematics seminar, which again surprised the Indians because zoologists are not supposed to know math, and in addition, I was the first woman to address them. SPAETH: You didn't sav what the colleges were and where they are located in India. LEONARD: The women's college was Lady Doak College. The men's college was American College. These two colleges are located in Madurai in South India. SPAETH: And you were there in 19 62-63, and you met Miss Doraiswamy and she came here as a Tutor from 1964-1966 and then you went back to Lady Doak during your second sabbatical in 1970. LEONARD: Well, I met Miss Doraiswamy the firs t time I was in lndia in 1959. Then she came to the United States to Oberlin College on a fellowship in 1961, and I believe you met her .n Wisconsin in 1961. i 24 I Then she went back to Lady Doak College. I, of course, enjoyed her company there, and then after I returned to the United States, she expressed a desire to teach at St. J ohn's College, and she came here from 1964-66. You asked if I went back to India again. Yes I did, twice. I visited there in the summer of 1969 and was there for six months in 1971, this time staying but not teaching at Lady Doak College. There is now a University of Madurai in the city, and I delivered some lectures on Population Genetics to the post-graduates in the Biology Departme nt there. I was an advisor on several science projects at Lady Doak College and gave talks at different functions at various institutions. I travelled around by myself in India for over a month visiting game parks and other places of interest. I spent three weeks birding in Nepal and northern India (Kashmir and Daljeeling). I was in Darjceling when the Bangladesh erup tion took place. I was within ten miles of the border, witnessed small troop movements and had to sleep in the Calcutta airport because of the disturbance. SPAETH: I'm sure yo u had an affect on Lady Doak College and American College because of Miss Doraiswamy's reaction to St. John's and the St. J ohn's method of teaching. I visited New Delhi in 1967 soon after Miss Doraiswamy had left St. J ohn's and I learned that she was tremendously affected by the program here. She's a mathematician, as you know, but her contact with the seminar and with the other parts o f the program left quite an impression on her. What is her position today in India? LEONARD: She is head of the mathematics department at Lady Doak College, and since Lady Doak is affiliated with the new University of Madurai in stead of the University of Madras, the affiliated colleges have had a chance to liberalize their curricula quite a bit, and Miss Doraiswamy has introduced discussion classes into the mathematics department. She also has brought outsiders in who can cross departmental lines. Her college was chosen for a three-year grant from the Indian government for a college science improvement program (COSIP) which allows them to improve their library and teaching facilities, to give further training to the faculty and to permi t the students to undertake projects. Miss Doraiswamy 's department has had ve ry high ratings from the government on the basis of what she is doing. She has said that she would not have been able to do all that she is doing if she had not had her two years at St. Joh n's College. She would like to return to St.John's sometime. �October 1972 CLASS NOTES that there is something about t he St. John's training that tunls 1 >eopJc toward systematic arld scientific study of language. 1932 1962 Robert L. Burwell, Jr., professor of chemistry at Northwestern University, in August was announced as the 1973 winner of the American Chemical Society~s Award in Colloid or Surface Chemistry. The Award was established by the Kendall Company in 1952 to recognize and encourage out· standing scientific contributions in colloid or surface chemistry in the Un.it.ed States and Canada. The presentation will take place next April in Dallas. Charles Bentley is secretary of the Rio 1938 j. S. Baker Middelton, who last spring retired from the J<euffel and Esser Company as vice - resident for Industrial Relations, p has taken a position as Deputy Special Assistant for Manpower (or the State of New Hampshire. 1948 A first-hand report on Raf>hael Ben Yosef (better known to his classmates as Ralph C. f'inkel) comes to us (rom julius Rosenberg '38, who has just returned from a trip to Israel. Raphael has been living in Israel since the early 1950's, is r'narried to an Israeli girt. and they have t\vo children. lie issued a most sincere invitation for any St. johnoies who are in Israel to visit him. His address is Asavah A.T.l., Inc, Maya House, 74, De.r ech Petah 'likvah Road, Tel-Aviv. His mailing address is P.O. Box 14051, Tel-Aviv. 1949 Michael Mok wrote an interesting article in the August 7th issue of Publishers Weekly conc(!rning a Publishing Procedures course offered at Radcljffe. After a number of years with L•fe magazine, Mike is now News Editor of the Weekly. 1953 Pt<blishers Weekly crops up again: Paul Nathan's column "Rights and Permissions" reports the publishing efforts of jeremy Tarcher. After a number of years of "packaging" books for other publishers, .I. r. Tarcher, ITlc., will release "The Sex·Lifc Letters'', a selection of rather candid letters originally appearing in the magazine Pent· house. Any volunteer reviewers? A recent note from R. M. R. (Mike) Hall re ports that he is an associate professor of linguistic~ at Queens CoUcge, CUNY, and is at present c hai_ nan of the department. His n wife Beatrice, who teaches li nguistics at SUNY Stony Brook, and he have daughters aged three years and L4 months. Mike feels Grande Educational Association. He and his wife, Dianne (Stone), make their home in Santa Fe. john P. Chatfield, working for his Ph.D. degree in philosophy at the New School for Social Research, has been made editor of the Graduate Faculty Philosophy founwL This is a student publication, sponsored by the Graduate Faculty, which first appeared last May. For the time being there will be one issue a year, and it is availab le by sub· scription. You may address John at the Pbilooophy Department, Graduate Faculty, New School for Social Research, 66 West 12th Street, New York, N.Y. 10011. 1965 judith At~drea jacobson received her Ph.D. degree in psychology from the Johns Hopkins University on May 26th. 1967 July brought another good l<tter from »o Meredith Burke~ with news that she is now in Philadelphia, starting on a research pro· ject at the Human Resource Center of the Uni.ersit y of Pennsylvania. She also sends news of Fred Fedderson, who has finished his post·graduate course in cultural anthro· pology at Cambridge. He will now work with the United Kingdom equivalent of VISTA on community development in large cities. A final bit from Meredith's Jetter advises that Gay (Singer) 8oro.tta has finished her first year at Harvard's Graduate School of De.sign. 1968 A Ph.D. degree in the History of Science wa.• awarded to William R. Albury this past spring by the Johns Hopkins. Randy's dis· sertation was on French chemistry and biology at the e nd of d>c 18th century. This year he will b e a Macy Postdoctoral Fellow in the History of Medicine and the Biologi· cal Sciences at the Hopkins. His wife Becky (McClure) will be working for her master's degree in U. S. foreign poJjcy at d~e same university. The summer issue of Tire Law School RecCfTd (corn the Uni\rersity of Chicago brings news that Bartholomew Lee. one of last year's Bigelow Fellows at the Law School, has been named Senior Bigelow Teaching Fdlow and ln.~tructor. Bart has been taking courses in the Croduate School of Business, in addition to teaching fuU·tiroc this past year at the Law School. Mean· while, he has found time to write an article, "A New and Legal Pun in Chaucer: A Signi· ficatio for the Summoner," which wilJ appear in Modem Philolog)l. Mary C. Howard and the Rev. James G. Callaway, Jr., were married on May 20th at Union Theological Seminary. Belat<d congratulations and best wishes. Domrld j. Schell (SF) is now associate Episcopal chaplain at Yale University. Another Santa Fe graduate, Steven Shore, makes the news: he is now a financial analyst with Westinghouse Broadcasting in New York City. 1969 A good letter from john H. Strange lets us know that he is in his third year of study toward the degree of Master of Divinity at Austin (Texas) Presbyteria" 1"heological Seminary. john anticipatc.s receiving hjs degree and being ordained as a Minister in the Presby terial Church next spring. John and the former Camille Phillips of San Marcos~ Texas, were married on September 2nd. The new Mrs. Strange, a honors graduate of Southwest Texas State Univer· sity, wilJ receive her master's degree in German literature rrom the University of Texas next May. 1970 July brought our annual j ohn R. Dean postcard from fat·away places, this time from Yugoslavia. J ohn was on his way to England for a summer of study at Trinity College, Oxford. He also reports that l>imitri Devyatkin works in "The l{jtchen". a "cybcttietics extravaganza in N.Y .C." In Memoriam 1904 · Burtis N. Coopcr,June 15, 1972. 1907 • The Rev. Walter B. McKinley, Boonsboro, Md., June 20, 1972. 1915 • Caiman J. Zarnoiski, Sr., Balli· more, Md., September 3, 19 72. 191 9 ·James K. Wood, Annapolis, Md., August 21, 1972. 1921 · George W. Barnes, Cherry Hill, NJ.,July 26, 1972. 1921 · Wiijjam P. Maddox, Rocky Hill, N.J., September 27, 1972. 1921 • J. Milton WiUey, Springfield, Pa., July 26, 1972. 1922 · Edward W. Cashell, Clarksville, Md., August 27, 1972. I 926 · H. Stanley Schmidt, Cockeys· ville, Md., May 19, 1972. 1927 · Cordon S. Duvall, Edgewater, Md.,July 5, 1972. 1931 · W. Tate Robinson, Honolulu, I·la.,July 19, 197 2. 1932 · G eorge E. Rudolph, Baltimore, Md., August 15, 1972. 1970 · Joan Leslie Kramer, New York, N.Y., August 1972. 25 ,_______ =-- �Photo Credits: ]ames Grady, back cover. M. E. lllarTtm, page 21 . Maryland Center for Public Broadcasting, pages 11 and 15. Charles Post. page 14. The College St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland 21404 Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The College </em>(1969-1981) Description An account of the resource St. John's College's Office of the Dean published <em>The College</em> from 1969 to 1981. The publication superseded <em><a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/37" title="The Bulletin of St. John's College">The Bulletin of St. John's College</a></em>.  <em>The College</em> was in turn continued by <a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/13" title="The St. John's Review"><em>The St. John's Review</em></a> in 1981.  <br /><br />A separate magazine for St. John's alumni titled <em>The College </em>began publication in 2001, continuing <em>The St. John's Reporter</em>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The College" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=12">Items in the The College Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource 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 Santa Fe, NM Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thecollegemagazine 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. 25 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Development Offices of St. John's College Title A name given to the resource The College, October 1972 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1972-10 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Spaeth, Robert Louis Parran, Jr., Thomas Compbell, Randolph Sinks, Jeffrey Description An account of the resource Volume XXIV, Number 3 of The College. Published in October 1972. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context The_College_Vol_24_No__1972 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 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 The College https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/10f7d66a281e58c5ec9716a4879a4451.pdf ecbef56e5c1058f80aa054d3f3a41d78 PDF Text Text lf' h-~ THE COLLEGE C.Of:'( St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland Santa Fe, New Mexico January 1973 �THE COLLEGE Editor: Robert L. Spaeth Alumni Editor: Thomas Parran, Jr. '42 Design: John Randolph Campbell '72 Production: Jeffrey Sinks '7 3 The College is published by the Development Office of St. John's College in Annapolis, Maryland. Richard D. Weigle, President. Paul D. Newland, Provost. Published four times a year in January, April, July, and October. Second class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at other mailing offices. In the January Issue Aristotle's Ethics, by J. Winfree Smith 1 Three Piano Preludes, by Douglas Allanbrook 7 Alumni Profile . 21 Homecoming 1972 . 22 Alumni Chapter in New York . 23 Alumni Activities . . . . . . . . 24 ON THE COVER: The replica of the Liberty Bell standing on the front campus in Annapolis is one of forty-eight cast in 1950 by the U.S. Department of the Treasury as part of a nation-wide drive to promote the sale of defense bonds. The state of Maryland temporarily deposited its bell with the Annapolis Chamber of Commerce, which in tum had it placed on the campus in 1952. In a speech prepared for the dedication of the monument: on May 13, 1953, John M. Whitmore said, "St. John's College, just as this bell, is symbolic of liberty and of man's constant battle to become and to remain free." Vol. XXIV January, 1973 No.4 �A.ristotle ends the Nicomachean Ethics with the words: "Let us then begin our discussion." Although Aristotle is sometimes playful, he is not playful here. The passage that precedes shows that the book called the Nicomachean Ethics is only part of a larger whole. The larger whole includes the Politics, and it is the discussion contained in the Politics that is to begin where the Ethics ends. To the larger whole Aristotle gives the name "the philosophy concerning human things." At the very beginning of the Ethics, the philosophy concerning human things, as having to do with "the human good," is called political science (e11"WT~/1'1 ). This term might be misleading both for those who know only a little about Aristotle and for those who know a great deal. For those who know only a little, since political science as he, and the ancients generally, understood it is not identical with political science as it is usually taught in our universities and colleges today. While Aristotle's political science is descriptive of institutions of government, the things they are concerned with, and the ways they work, it has to do with much more than the institutions. of government. If Ethics raises the question of what is good or bad for this or that man to be or do, that question is not to be separated from such questions as what is good or bad for him to do in the place he occupies and in relation to others within the complete human community, the nOAts, in what way that goodness or badness may be determined by the goodness or badness of the mil\ts itself and its laws, and hence what may be the best 1T61\ts. The term "political science" may be misleading to those who know a great deal about Aristotle because, according to what he says in the Posterior Analytics and in Book VI of the Ethics itself, science ( €71'W7~JJ.f/) is about universal, necessary, and unchangeable things and proceeds demonstratively from premisses to conclusions. The model for science is mathematical synthesis of the kind we find in Euclid's geometry. But at the beginning of the Ethics he makes it clear that Ethics is not like geometry. It lacks the precision of geometry. This lack of precision is to be found not only in the application of universal principles to particular matters, but in the universal principles themselves. Although there is a great deal that can be said about what is generally good for men to do, this may not hold in all cases and all circumstances. The things Ethics is about arc changeable. Ethics or political soence IS not Aristotle as conceived by Raphael in his "School of Athens" fresco in the Vatican. ARISTOTLE'S ETHICS by ]. Winfree Smith ''science." Let us come back to the least misleading title of the enterprise, "the philosophy concerning human things." That suggests that there may be some other 1 �The College philosophy that does not concern human things. There may be things that are what they are independently of man, and to say they are what they are is to imply there is a way in which things are. The things that are independent of what man thinks or does or makes might be called "nature." That name, however, deriving from the Latin nascor (to be born, to come into being), as well as the Greek it translates, ¢vatS (from ¢Vw, to generate, to cause to come into being), points to a distinction between the way things are as determining the way they come into being and the way they are simply. Aristotle accordingly envisages two sciences (in addition, of course, to Mathematics) that aim at the vision of truth, at knowledge for its own sake: Physics, which is about nature as a principle of change or coming-into-being, and First Philosphy (which has come to be called Metaphysics, although Aristotle never called it that), which is about being as being. Unlike Ethics these are conceived as sciences in the strict sense, as demonstrative sciences. It is perhaps worthy of note that Aristotle never produces these sciences. The books that we call the Physics and the Metaphysics contain observations, the posing and refining of difficulties, and reasoning leading to principles rather than demonstrations from principles (Jrra'YW"f~ rather than dn68H~ts). This, I believe, is not accidental. For Aristotle, like his teacher Plato, was aware that when man undertakes to philosophize, no matter about what, he is not, to begin with, in possession of principles; and whether he actually comes to possess them should perhaps be left an open question. One might wonder whether one can enter upon the philosophy about human things without having been first engaged in First Philosophy and Second Philosophy (which name, Second Philosophy, Aristotle gives to Physics or Natural Philosophy). Or, to put it another way, does his Ethics depend upon his First Philosophy or his Physics? Can we keep his Ethics and reject his Physics, and substitute some other Physics, Descartes' or Newton's, or Einstein's? Or, can we keep his Ethics and reject his Metaphysics? If we presented these questions to Aristotle, I think he would say that in Ethics we must begin with the most obvious perennial facts about human life; for instance, that men have certain desires for food and drink and sexual pleasure, for money and recognition, that for the most part they live in communities under customs and laws, that they fight wars at the same time that they fear death, that they, with some exceptions, worship gods or a god, and that they have opinions about good and evil which they take seriously. So we don't need to presuppose Physics and Metaphysics to begin to philosophize about ourselves and our fellows and our common life. I would submit that if one were to read the Ethics without having read or heard much about Aristotelian Physics ·Of Metaphysics, he would find it understandable. 2 But one might wonder not whether one can start, but whether one can finish the philosophy about human things without entering upon First Philosophy and Second Philosophy. After all, even if human things are to be differentiated from those divine things on which the being of the cosmos depends or from natural things, it might be argued that man's being and his doings depend upon his nature which is part of the whole that includes all natures. It might make a great difference for Ethics whether human life is a tiny and transitory happening in an immense universe which may be friendly or hostile to human life, or which may be intelligible or unintelligible, or which may be governed by a particular providence or not so governed. Is not Ethics, in order to complete itself, or perhaps even correct itself, compelled to take into account the questions with which First Philosophy and Physics deal? If Aristotle were faced with this query, I think he would by no means dismiss it. But he would remind us that just as the weaver may have a good opinion about what a good piece of cloth is without knowing the good itself, i.e., without knowing or even seeking to know what Plato argues was the first principle of everything, so fathers of families and soldiers and citizens and rulers may have a good opinion about what is good or bad for them to do without embarking upon First Philosophy and Physics. Moreover, just as the weaver has every day to attend to his loom, so men have every day to attend to their tasks in the several relationships of life. One studies Ethics in order to know how to act, and action allows not the leisure to wait upon the solution of speculative questions. The inference to be drawn is not that one can only act blindly or thoughtlessly. Otherwise, Aristotle would not have written his Ethics. It is useful to consider how he proceeds in the book. He is guided by what people think to be good or bad, by what they praise or blame. A few years ago a student in a St. John's seminar remarked that morals are just mores. That student perhaps knew some Latin and knew that the word "morals" comes from a Latin word which in the plural is nothing other than our word "mores" and means customs, usages, habits. Indeed so. The word "ethics" is exactly parallel to "morals" and comes from a Greek word HeTJ that has those same meanings: customs, usages, habits. Indeed so. But the question is whether the customary, usual, habitual ways of thinking, · the commonly held opinions, do not embody truth. This seems to be Aristotle's view. He is, of course, well aware that not all opinions, even widely held opinions, are equally worthy of consideration, and that among those that are, not all are compatible with one another. When they seem not to be compatible, he tries to see whether they can be reconciled, and, if not, why one opinion is to be preferred to another, and how some kind of consensus within the realm of opinion might �January 1973 be reached. He himself says of his procedure in the context of his account of continence and incontinence (or self-restraint and unrestraint): We must set before us what seems (presumably what seems to others) to be the case, and, after first going through the difficulties, exhibit, if possible, the truth of the common opinions about these affections (continence and inconti- nence) and if this is not possible, the truth of the greatest number and the most ruling ones; for if both the hard points are resolved and common opinions remain, the truth will have been sufficiently exhibited. Therefore, I have not really entered into Aristotle's ethical or moral teaching, and the reader may well wonder why he is reading this if not to learn how to be good and why. Aristotle's general answer to that question is simple: You should behave in accordance with reason, and you should do so in order to be happy. I hope that the rest of what I shall say will to some degree specify the content that Aristotle gives to that proposition. In the first place, Aristotle observes that men generally will agree that they want happiness and that happiness, whatever it is, is not something they want as a means to something else but for its own sake. They do indeed disagree as to where their happiness is to be found. Some think it is to be found in pleasure. But there are some pleasures that man shares with the other animals, such as the pleasures of eating and drinking and sexual enjoyment. If human happiness is a specifically human thing, it would seem that whatever those pleasures contribute to happiness, it cannot be found in its completeness in them, though it might still be identified with some specifically human pleasure or pleasures. Those who think that it is to be found in wealth will, upon a little reflection, see that wealth is good only in its use and so for the sake of something else. So and so many coins in a purse or digits in a bank account are not happiness. If there are men like Hotspur, who think that happiness consists in honor, they will, if they reflect, see that they would not want to be honored by just anyone or for just anything, and so that honor is meaningful only in relation to whatever excellence a man may have and for which he should be honored. Hence, what defines a man's happiness is the excellence rather than the honor he receives because of it. If he possesses some excellence, that means that he is excellent in something or at something such as swimming or horseback riding or armed combat or oratory or diplomacy. That is, there is always some activity in which he excels. Hence the really good thing is the activity. Just as the parts of the body have their activities and the activity of the eye is seeing and of the lungs is breathing, so man has an activity as man, which must be an activity of the soul rather than the body, and of that part of the soul which differentiates him from other animals. His excellence will consist in his being able to perform well that ac<ivity, and the activity itself will be his happiness. But there a]:e many specifically human activities some of whiGh seem to be for some further end ·and others to be ends in themselves. Is there some one activity which is the end of all? Aristotle "'does not answer this question at the first stage of his -Philosophizing concerning human things (i.e., in Book I of the Ethics). He has, however, come to some ,tlhderstanding of the kind of thing that happiness must be: Happiness must be an activity of the human ·"soul in accordance with some human excellence or virtue. And that virtue must be complete. The main ~reason that Aristotle cannot at this stage give a better answer to this question to which at a later he returns ,-is that in order to answer it he has to investigate the question of what human virtue is. There may be ,many virtues and one among them supreme with the others relating to it in various ways. Or there may be ,.many, and they may all reduce to one virtue, for example, wisdom. They may all be kinds of wisdom. <.Or there may be one supreme virtue for men of one kind and another for men of another kind. ~ Aristotle, therefore, in Book II begins to inves~ tigate the question of virtue. Having noted that men ,£peak of both intellectual virtue (ap er~ 8 <aV01/TLKTI) and moral virtue (ciptT-h ~{)~"h), he confines his ,attention all the way through Book V to moral virtue, returning to intellectual virtue in Book VI and to the question of how intellectual virtue may relate to ····moral virtue. As Book I was a search for a definition ... of happiness, so Book II is a search for a definition of ·moral virtue. Whether such a definition completes the ... definition of happiness will be still open. For we shall have to ask whether in tellcctual virtue is in any way .-necessary for moral virtue. And if there are intellectual virtues not necessary for moral virtue, we shall ... have to ask whether happiness is an activity in accordance with these or whether it is an activity in __,._accordance with moral virtue under the governance of some intellectual virtue or a combination of both activities. To put it another way, is the philosophic life the good and happy life, or is the political life, or . is some combination of them? But what is a moral virtue? One way to begin to answer this question is to consider how men in their earliest years learn to behave. How do parents teach • their children to behave? Usually they employ rewards and punishments to make them do certain .. things and not do other things. By repeatedly doing certain things and refraining from others, habits are formed which become second nature so that the children without being told don't fill themselves with candy before dinner, are not cry-babies in the face of some real or imagined pain, and share their toys with . other children. These good children have become on some level temperate, courageous, and generous or .liberal. They have come to possess these virtues of temperance and courage and liberality. It would seem �The College to make sense then to say that a moral virtue is a habit (e~ts) which the soul comes to possess because of the repetition of a certain kind of action. The habit, in turn, in the circumstances that call for it, is realized in that same kind of action, but it is not always being realized in action. We don't say of someone that he has stopped being courageous because he is asleep and not actually performing courageous deeds. Indeed, that is why we distinguish between the habit and the action. Furthermore, a habit of virtue, like a habit of vice, is a relatively permanent thing. It is not easily changed. This, however, would not seem to be an adequate account of moral virtue as a human quality. For dogs and other animals besides men can be trained to behave habitually in certain ways. What do we have to add? We should say, should we not, that if a man is to do something virtuous, he must know what he is doing. Certain acts done in ignorance we neither praise nor blame. We even pardon or pity the doer of an action which we would find blameworthy if it were done wittingly and which upon discovery to the doer brings sorrow to him. Aristotle mentions a certain case of striking one's father as such a mistake done in ignorance. One is naturally led to think of Oedipus and to conclude that the tragic mistake that Aristotle speaks of in the Poetics is not a flaw of character in the sense of a vice, but a mistake done in ignorance and so involuntarily, and therefore one for which Oedipus is to be pitied. The virtuous man and his opposite, the vicious man, are such only if they act knowingly. The virtuous man must not only know what he is doing, he must choose to do that rather than something else. We often use the word "choose" somewhat loosely. For instance, we say that the American people choose their President. They don't choose him just because they pull levers on voting machines. Choice requires deliberation. Deliberation is some kind of reasoning which starts with the perception of an end to be achieved and weighs the possible means to achieve it. The virtuous man in choosing the virtuous action does so after deliberation. The virtuous action that is chosen is in the case of the moral virtues usually a mean between two extremes of pleasure and pain or pleasurable and painful things. For example, the man who is temperate in food will choose the mean between too much food and too little food. There is, of course, no fixed rule for making this choice. What is just right for me might be too little for a heavyweight boxing champion, but too much for an aged clerk who leads a more sedentary life. Obviously, deciding upon the mean also requires reasoning. Finally, we would not say that a person possesses a moral virtue unless he chooses the virtuous action for its own sake. Although children learn how to behave through being rewarded and punished, we would not say that they have really 4 become virtuous until they do good things and avoid doing bad things without expecting candy or fearing the stick. In some such way, then, Aristotle comes to a definition of moral virtue. It is a habit of choosing a mean, a mean relative to the person possessing it and determined by reason. There are three conditions for moral virtue: (1) knowing what one is doing, (2) choosing the action for its own sake and (3) doing that habitually, i.e., from a certain stability of character. The first two involve reason, but at this stage of exploring the question of virtue, the third is stressed more than they. At the end of Book II of the Ethics we find a list of the moral virtues set forth in such a way as to show how each one has to do with a mean. The following books through Book V contain a detailed account of all these moral virtues taken (with one exception) in the order in which they are listed. Let me give the list in order, putting with the virtues the opposite vices which have to do with an excess or deficiency of whatever pleasure, pain, desire, or passion is the medium for their exercise. I shall give first the virtue, then the vice of excess, and then that of deficiency. ( 1) Courage between rashness and cowardice (2) Temperance between self-indulgence and insensibility (3) Liberality between prodigality and meanness (4) Magnificence between vulgarity and niggardliness ( 5) Greatness of soul between vainglory and smallness of soul (6) Moderate ambition between immoderate ambition and unambitiousness (7) Gentleness between irascibleness and unirascibleness (8) Truthfulness between boastfulness and irony (or self-irony) (9) Friendliness between flattery and quarrelsomeness (10) Wit between buffoonery and boorishness Notice that justice is not in the list, and Aristotle says very tersely, With regard to justice, since it has not one simple meaning, we shall, after describing the other habits, distinguish its kinds and say how it is a mean. There seems to be something special about justice. Is there some order in this list? For instance, is there a steady progression from inferior virtues to superior virtues? Or is it that there are certain peaks and that once we reach a peak, we return to a valley again and climb a lower or a higher peak? Perhaps we might consult one of Aristotle's best students, a man who has understandably been canonized and is known to some as St. Thomas Aquinas. For he wrote what is probably the most serious and thorough of commentaries on the Ethics. I shall present a simpli- �January 1973 fied account of the order that he sees in this list. First, there is the distinction into two parts between the virtues that have to do with man:s passions and desires and those that have to do with his actions. As to the first part, there are passions and desires that have to do with man's life itself. Thus courage is a virtue that has to do with the fear that he feels in the face of what is destructive of his life, and temperance with the desire he has for what is preservative of his life and the life of the species. Then there are passions and desires that have to do with certain external goods, namely wealth and honor. The virtues that establish a rule for the way a man should bear himself toward wealth are liberality and magnificence, and for the way he should bear himself toward honor they are greatness of soul and moderate ambition. As to the second part, the virtues that have to do with man's actions are, to begin with, the virtues which are concerned with the less serious though still important actions of men in relation to other men. They might be called social virtues: the virtue of being friendly or generally affable as distinguished from the vice of flattery or that of quarrelsomeness; the virtue of wit as distinguished from buffoonery, a virtue eminently displayed by Falstaff who was somewhat lacking in other moral virtues; and the virtue of truthfulness about oneself by which one avoids both boastfulness on the one hand, and irony or self-depreciation of the other. Aristotle accuses Socrates of this vice of irony, of claiming for himself less than his due, less than the truth. There are some who try to save Socrates from this allegation, but I shall leave him to shift for himself. These lesser social virtues lead logically to justice which is the social virtue most of all, that is, the virtue by which men act rightly toward each other in society. All of this that Thomas says makes eminent sense. But there are some things that are strange about it. In the first place, Thomas makes greatness of soul not nearly so great as Aristotle makes it. For him, it is simply one of many moral virtues with perhaps a certain place in the hierarchy of virtues, whereas for Aristotle it implies the perfection of all the other moral virtues and includes them all. In the second place, Thomas' account of the moral virtues, when he is speaking more on his own in the Summa Theologica, is markedly different from the whole of Aristotle's Ethics and from Thomas' commentary on the Ethics. This is interesting because the impression is often given that Thomas Aquinas just made a line between supernatural revelation and natural reason, and that as for the latter he slavishly followed the master Aristotle. Not so. In the Summa Theologica the account of moral virtues is preceded by the treatise on law including natural law and divine law, the latter containing both the revealed law of Moses and the revealed grace of Christ. As far as virtue is concerned, the revealed grace of Christ means the theological virtues, faith, hope, and charity, which are gifts of God and are discussed next after the natural and divine law. Then there follows the treatise on the four cardinal virtues, among which the intellectual virtue of prudence or practical wisdom is supreme and is treated first, followed by the discussion of the moral virtues in the order of their excellence: justice, then courage, then temperance. All of the other moral virtues are subsidiary parts of these cardinal virtues. Thomas makes liberality, truthfulness, and friendliness parts of justice, greatness of soul and magnificence parts of courage, and gentleness a part of temperance. Although he does not subtract from Aristotle's list, he adds to it: religion, filial piety, penitence, and gratitude as parts of justice, patience and perseverance as parts of courage and humility as part of temperance. Perhaps these remarks about Thomas Aquinas' transformation of Aristotle's teaching about morality may make us more alert to the essential elements of that teaching. In answer to the question raised above, I should say that there are in the first five books of Aristotle's Ethics two peaks, the second higher than the first. The first peak is greatness of soul. The second is justice. These are the peaks among the moral virtues. The question remains whether the intellectual virtues are not a higher peak. What is true ot greatness of soul and justice and is not true of other moral virtues is that each of them includes all the others. How then do they differ? They differ in that in the case of greatness of soul all the moral virtues are regarded as constituting a man's own intrinsic worth whereas in the case of justice they are regarded as constituting his worth in relation to others within political society. The thing that characterizes the great-souled man is that he thinks himself worthy of the greatest honor. So he must not only possess the other moral virtues, but he must possess them in a superlative degree. The remarkable thing, and perhaps the offensive thing to persons of Christian sentiment or democratic sentiment or both, is that a man would be lacking in virtue if he possessed the other moral virtues in a superlative degree and did not think himself worthy of the greatest honor. One might conclude that he will want to be honored by others. Not so. He will utterly despise the honors conferred upon him by nonvirtuous men, and he will not be especially pleased at those conferred upon him by virtuous men whose virtue falls far short of his own and who can scarcely value his superlative virtue at its real worth. Shake· speare's Coriolanus, who is like the great-souled man in his supreme sense of his own worth, in his contempt for the opinion of the Roman populace, in his unwillingness to flatter them, nonetheless lacks greatness of soul, for the great-souled man would consider it vulgar to exhibit a lofty bearing in the presence of lesser people. Aristotle's greatness of soul might seem to be the very definition of pride and the very opposite of 5 �The College humility. Humility for Christians means a sense not of one's own worth, but of the tremendous disparateness between whatever worth one may really have and the infinite worth of God. Could it be that Aristotle's view that greatness of soul is a virtue implies a theology and a radically different theology from that of Christianity, implies that man can be as god or almost? He does indeed say that the honor that tbe great-souled man claims is that which we render to tbe gods, and he compares him to Zeus as being pleased to be reminded of benefits he has conferred but pained to be reminded of those he has received. Perhaps it might be interesting to see how Thomas Aquinas manages to keep greatness of soul as a virtue. We have already seen that he underplays it by making it a part of courage rather than courage a part of .it. In answer to the objection that he himself poses, that greatness of soul is opposed to humility, he says, There is in man something great which he possesses through the gift of God; and something defective which accrues to him through the weakness of nature. Accordingly, greatness of soul makes a man deem himself worthy of great things in consideration of the gifts he holds from God ... On the other hand humility makes a man think little of himself in consideration of his own deficiency; and greatness of soul makes him despise others in so far as they fall away from God's gifts .. , Yet humility makes us honor others and esteem them better than ourselves in so far as we see some of God's gifts in them. Does this not mean, however, that if one does possess great virtue, one's greatness of soul consists in seeing that great virtue, not so much as contributing to one's own worth, but as a gift of God? The one worthy of honor would then seem to be not so much the recipient of the gift as the divine giver. That would certainly destroy the meaning of greatness of soul as Aristotle understands it. Humility, it was said, is a sense of the tremendous disparateness between whatever worth we may really have and the infinite worth of God. Sin was not then mentioned. It may be that not only is the worth man has infinitely less than God's worth, but that man is positively unworthy. Is this not why Thomas adds to Aristotle's list the curious virtue of penitence, which consists in the constant recognition of one's constant unworthiness or lack of virtue? Aristotle indeed mentions something like penitence, namely shame. He says that it is not a virtue, that it indeed is a praiseworthy feeling in young people, for the shame they feel for past or present failing restrains them in the future. But it is not praiseworthy in an older person for he should not and need not do anything for which to be ashamed. In him it is shameful to feel shame. What Aristotle says about shame is of a piece with what he says about greatness of soul. 6 It was said that among the moral virtues the other peak is justice, that like greatness of soul it contains all the other moral virtues, and that it is a higher peak than greatness of soul. Justice is ambiguous. For sometimes it means justice as a whole and sometimes a part of justice. The reason for the ambiguity is that justice as a whole is obedience to law, and law prescribes actions such as courageous or temperate actions that fall under other moral virtues and also actions that do not fall under other moral virtues, such as the distribution by the political community of honors in proportion to merit or restitution to be made to the injured party to a contract. It is justice as a whole that is more excellent than greatness of soul. The reason is that the common good is superior to the moral worth of any single man when that is considered simply as his own worth. To quote Aristotle, "The best man is not he who exercises his virtue toward himself, but he who exercises it toward another." This is said in the context of moral virtue, and might have to be qualified in the context of intellectual virtue. It might still be true. It would depend upon what we mean by "man" when we speak of the best man. Or what we mean by "himself," i.e., what a man's self is. What Aristotle says about justice as a whole is in many ways reminiscent of what Socrates says in Plato's Republic, about the justice of the nOAts. By that I mean that in the Republic justice is not a particular virtue belonging in a paramount way to a particular class, as wisdom, or courage, or less clearly, temperance is, but is all of the virtues together. Of course in the Republic, while justice is obedience to the laws made by Socrates with the assent of Glaucon and tbe others, one might wonder whether the civil law, obedience to which is Aristotelian justice, would meet the severe demands of Socrates' legislation in Socrates' speech. After discussing the moral virtues and the chief moral virtue, justice, Aristotle in Book VI proceeds to the question of whether there can be moral virtue without intellectual virtue. Earlier in setting forth as conditions for a morally virtuous action that it is to be done witb knowledge, choice, and from a firm character formed by habituation, he had placed the greatest emphasis on the last, saying, "For the possession of the virtues knowledge avails little or nothing, whereas the other things are all-important, inasmuch as virtue results from repeated performance of just the temperate acts." It seems now that this was not the whole story, and that while one can indeed, and people do, speak of moral virtue in the way previously described, moral virtue in the strictest sense requires intellectual virtue, which consists of knowledge. But what intellectual virtue and what kind of knowledge? To answer that we must ask the prior question: What kinds of intellectual virtue are there? First of all we might speak of that kind of intellectual virtue which cqnsists in knowledge about things that cannot be otherwise, the · eternal and (Continued on Page 19) �THREE PRELUDES FOR THE PIANO DOUGLAS ALLANBROOK Several years ago I wrote a set of piano pieces called "12 Preludes for All Seasons.'' I wanted to write a kind of album for lovers of the piano. Some of the pieces are difficult, some are relatively easy. At the request of The College, I have selected three of the latter for publication. They can all be played in order at a public concert, or they can any of them be played separately either in concert or at home. They are all dedicated to people I know. Whether they are portraits or not is part of the game. �- ~--~ f!. /f!... .j!-• '~ 11.- v J ~..... ~~ .,. --~ ·-~~~~ .. -- ~- '( -P 'I = I - '1..1 bA_ ~ ~ ~tll'ii I . ~l -=-- .::-;: r-"""' _./ ~ YT ~tJ 1 ~ . ~ ~ f L 1 ..... ~· '---" ---....... ,1 - I ' ~;:_ ' ......... ........ .... 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Hi's compositions are being published by Boosey and Hawkes, Inc. �January 1973 unchangeable things, and the eternal conditions and principles of changeable things. It is identical with the knowledge that is sought by First Philosophy and Second Philosophy, or if you like, Metaphysics and Physics. This is, I believe, the first point in the Ethics ~here one might think that the peculiarly Aristotelian teachmgs about being and nature are beginning to enter the consideration of ethical or moral matters. B_ut Ari~totl~ refers to such intellectual virtue only to distmgmsh It from the intellectual virtue that is concerned with things that change. That itself is twofold. For on the one hand, there is the intellectual virtue that is necessary if man is to make things well, namely art; the sculptor by his art knows what a beautiful statue is and the cobbler by his art what a good shoe is and both by reasoning determine the best means for producing the statue or the shoe. And on the other hand, there is the intellectual virtue necessary if man is to do things well. Here, clearly, is the intellectual virtue required, if any is required, by moral virtue. For moral virtue is the habit by which man is disposed to act well in relation to his own desires and passions and in relation to other men. The intellectual virtue in question is practical wisdom or prudence (</JpOV'Ia<s). As art is the virtue by which one knows how to make things well, so practical wisdom is the virtue by which one knows how to act well. Practical wisdom is, as it were, an eye of the soul by which it sees the ends of human life, the various actions that are determined by the moral virtues in their intrinsic worth and in their order and connection with one another. As such it cannot exist without the moral virtues and so presupposes a c~rtain acquisi_tion . of those virtues through expenence and habituatiOn. One who has acquired habits of_ self-indulgence or cowardice or stinginess is made bhnd to temperance or courage or liberality and incapable of practical wisdom. Hence, the primary role of practical wisdom is to reason from the ends set by the virtues to the means of acting temperately ~r courageously or liberally in the particular situa~10n. That inv'?lves deliberation, reasoning, and msight mto particulars. Without those things there can be no moral action and without moral actions the moral virtues cannot be preserved. Therefore we must say that moral virtue is necessary for practical Wisdom, and that practical wisdom is necessary for moral virtue in the true and strict sense. There are special kinds and degrees of practical wisdom. For the praiseworthy or blameworthy actwn~ of men are not merely the actions of single men smgly, but of political communities, and of single men in their various roles within political communties. Therefore, practical wisdom is in an expecially important way political wisdom, and political wisdom may be that of founders of regimes such as the authors of the United States Constitution or of those who have to deliberate in political assemblies, such as the United States Congress, about measures to be taken for the common good, or of those who have to make decisions about the rightness or wrongness under the law of deeds already done, such as the justices of the Supreme Court, or of those ordinary citizens such as you and I who by our nature belong to society and are obligated to act in society. It was noted earlier that Aristotle distinguished practical wisdom, an intellectual virtue which has to do with particular and changeable human affairs, not only from art, but also from another intellectual virtue. That other intellectual virtue is philosophic wisdom (ao.pia ). Though Aristotle says that practical wiseom is required for moral virtue, he does not say that philosophic wisdom is required for practical wisdom or for moral virtue even in the true and strict sense. Here he seems to differ from Plato, who in the Republic argues that the just political community cannot exist unless kings become philosophers or philosophers become kings; and philosophers are those who in their quest for wisdom about the no)us are compelled to go beyond the nOll<s to seek the wisdom about the whole of what is~ It is significant in this connection that Plato uses the words </JpOV1/0<S and aoq,ia interchangeably. Enough has been said, I tllink, to show that what Aristotle says on some early page of the Et.hics is not to be taken as indicative of his full account. For example, he says in the second chapter of Book I that political science seems to be the most authoritative and the architectonic science. Indeed he seems to imply that is it authoritative and architectonic in relation to all other sciences. For he says that it ordains wlllch sciences are to be studied in the noll<s. But even his calling political science arcllltectonic is misleading unless we note carefully that the comprehensive end with which political science as described at the beginning of the Ethics concerns itself is the human good. By the end of the Ethics we have some reason to think that, paradoxically, there is a good for man that is higher than the human good. For near the end of Book VI Aristotle says that it would seem strange if political or practical wisdom generally, which is inferior to pllllosophic wisdom, should be more authoritative than it, and his final statement in that book before going to an entirely new beginning is that political wisdom is not in authority over philosophic wisdom, that it does not give orders to it but for its sake, and that "if anyone were to say o~herwise, it would be like saying that political Wisdom rules over the gods." Is philosophic wisdom comparable to God or gods? Or is the wisdom that the philosophic man seeks and may hope to obtain comparable to the wisdom God has or gods have? · Philosplllc wisdom as an intellectual virtue is a combination of intellectual intuition and demonstrative reasoning resulting in scientific knowledge of the things that are of most worth. It is then above all else, First Philosophy, the knowledge of being as 19 �The College being and of the first principle of the whole being, the philosophy which in Metaphysics, Book VI, is the philosophy of most worth, because it deals with the kind of being that is of most worth and which is there also called theology, because that kind of being would be the divine cause of divine things. It is not political wisdom or practical wisdom, because that is the philosophy that deals with human things, and even if men be divine, says Aristotle, there are things that are more divine in nature than man. What are these things? They are the heavenly bodies which, together with the earth our home, consitute the cosmos. And, of course, the unmoved first mover, on which as a principle the heavens and nature depend and whose activity is exclusively intellectual intuition, would be more divine and the supreme divine cause of all. At the end of Book I, having argued that whatever happiness is, it is activity in accordance with complete virtue, we left the question of what happiness is to investigate the question of virtue. Virtue, we have seen, 1ncans a number of different things, and we have by no means explored all the differences that Aristotle, eminent in the esprit de finesse, perceives. But we have explored the main ones. The principal difference is the difference between the virtues of a life devoted to philosophy and those of a life devoted to action which, at its best, is political life. As the philosophic virtues are superior tO the moral virtues, so is the activity in accordance with them superior to the activity in accordance with the moral virtues, and accordingly the happiness of the philosopher is greater than the happiness of the man who possesses only the moral virtues, although the second kind of happiness has an autonomy since, though the intellectual virtue of practical wisdom is necessary for the moral life, philosophic wisdom is not. Because of this autonomy we can speak of the virtue of the great-souled man as complete virtue or of the virtue of the just man as complete virtue. Either one is complete moral virtue, and indeed it is likely that the great-souled man or the noble statesman will possess certain moral virtues in a degree that goes way beyond the degree to which the philosopher possesses them. This raises the question whether we are right, after all, in attributing supreme happiness to the philosophic life. For is the virtue of the philosopher complete virtue? He cannot be altogether lacking in moral virtue. He has a body like other men and appetites and passions like theirs. He will be temperate and, if he has to face the danger of death in battle he will be courageous. But for the activity of philosophizing he will not need moral virtue in a large and spendid sense, and simply because he has fewer needs, his life and happiness will be more self-sufficient and complete than the life and happiness of the great-souled man or the just and noble statesman. 20 We can now see these diverse types of men in a new perspective. It was observed that the essential thing about the great-souled man as such is that his exercise of superlative moral virtue is always directed toward himself, toward enhancing his own worth. It was further said that the just man is better than he because, while he may possess the same superlative moral virtue, his exercise of it is always directed to a higher good than himself, the common human good. But now we have to revise that somewhat. For there is a sense in which a man's self may transcend that of the human community and indeed all human life. We raised the question whether Aristotle in envisaging the great-souled man was not envisaging a man who could be as a god or almost. That might be true except that for Aristotle God has no moral virtue. We cannot say that he is temperate or brave. But neither can we say that he is just or liberal; he neither makes convenants nor bestows gifts. His virtue, if we may speak of his virtue, is only intellectual virtue and, specifically, intellectual intuition; for presumably he has no need to demonstrate things. In answer to the objection that the philosopher is grasping for a life too high for man, Aristotle says, We must not follow those who advise us, being men, to think of human things, and being mortal, of mortal things, but must, so far as we can, make ourselves im1nortal, and strain--eVery nerve to live in accordance with the best thing in us; for even if it be small in bulk, much more does it in power and worth surpass everything. This would seem, too, to be each man himself. There are wide differences among men and different virtues of which different men are capable. But a man's true self in the highest sense, a sense perhaps not relevant to most men, is the divine intellect whose activity, the contemplation of being, the philosopher seeks to share. Aristotle throughout the Ethics has much to say about the various virtues and how men may come by them and therefore how men may become happy. In the first book he raises the question whether happiness comes as a divine gift and says, "If there is any gift of the gods to men, it is reasonable that happiness should be god-given ... ;" "but," he adds, "This question would perhaps be more appropriate to another inquiry." We look in vain for that inquiry. He is entirely silent after that about the question of whether happiness is a divine gift; but as we have seen, he is not silent about the question whether there are any divine gifts. Mr. f. Winfree Smith, a Tutor at St. John's College since 1941, delivered this lecture on the Annapolis campus on May 26, 1972. Mr. Smith received his B.A., M.A., and Ph.D. degrees from the University of Virginia and his M. Diu. from the Virginia Theological Seminary. �January 1973 When John Poundstone was a St. Johnnie in the early 1960's, he neither planned to go to medical school nor anticipated joining the Navy. Yet only ten years after his graduation John is both Dr. Poundstone and Lt. Cmdr. Poundstone, with the resounding title, "Head of the Tuberculosis and Venereal Disease Control Section of the Community Health Branch of the Preventive Medicine Division of the Bureau of Medicine and Surgery of the Department of The Navy." Dr. Poundstone works in Washington, D.C. His chief task is the development of VD and TB control programs for 800,000 military personnel and a million civilians. The trail that led there began in John Poundstone's senior year, when he decided to return home after graduation to Lexington, Kentucky, in order to attend the University of Kentucky medical school. He had been admitted on only one condition, that he fill out his St. John's education with a summer's worth of organic chemistry. After that ordeal, John found med school to be quite manageable, and he received the M.D. degree in 1966. By then there was a Mrs. Poundstone, the former Ann von Isakovics, who admits to having "followed John" to Kentucky, where she received a bachelor's degree from the University of Kentucky. By 1966, Ann had added an M.A. in secondary education with emphasis in the teaching of high school mathematics. The couple was married in 1963. The Poundstones' life changed significantly with a move to Boston in '66. John spent a year as an intern in the Newton-Wellesley Hospital, then entered Harvard University's School of Public Health. In the course of three years, he acquired a Master of Public Health degree and did a considerable amount of research on congenital he art disease. Meanwhile Ann changed her field to business administration and, in '69, received a master's degree from Boston University. She subsequently became active in the computer business, becoming the first woman ever to sell a computer. Another big change occurred in 1970, when John went into the Navy. Washington became home, and John plunged into demanding work in the Navy's TB and VD programs. Ann continued her fearless career, now as a law student at Georgetown University and as a law clerk to Judge Samuel W. H. Meloy of Maryland. She expects her Juris Doctor degree in June. Both Dr. and Mrs. Poundstone have vivid memories of their years in Annapolis. Ann spent only two years at the College; after much more academic experience elsewhere, she finds that St.John's had a "diversity of student population" hard to match. But the question of whether her years at St. John's were "beneficial" still is a troublesome one. Yet she is convinced that St. John's helped "all of [her] subsequent relationships." John Poundstone finds the St. John's influence following him wherever he goes. His education at Annapolis continues to help him "to bring order to the subject matter" he works with. And he believes St. John's has helped him "to see underlying motives and basic tenets" in the work and writings of others. Homecoming 1972 found the Poundstones cheerful and relaxed as they visited their old campus and found time to grant an interview to The College. 21 �The College HOMECOMING 1972 It may really be, as one -alumnus. wrote in. commenting on 33 Homecoming,. that the .very sophistication of the program tends to ~;,,immunize. us, .so. that. we· are .not seduced by the sort of nostalgia necessary to lure alumni back to their college. Or perhaps alumni just have too many things to do. For whatever reasons, fewer than :S"i 200 alumni and their guests showed 3~1 up for. the annual gathering of the classes in October. Those classes celebrating some sort of reunion did help attract people, with the 60-year class being represented by Philip L. Alger and George L. Winslow. The oldest class present was 1909, represented by Col. Robert E. Jones from Palo Alto, Calif. Col. Jones would have had the. distinction of having come the longest way, except for David Cicia '70, who was on leave from his duty station in Germany. One of the Homecoming highlights was the dedication of the Harrison Health Center. Present for the event was Mrs. John T. Harrison, whose gift in memory of her late • husband, a graduate in the ,p) President Weigle and Mrs. John T. Harrison at the Dedication of the Harrison Health Center during Homecoming. 22 Mr. Myron L. Wolbarsht receives the Alumni Award of Merit from William R. Tilles. for 41 years, received a thunderous standing ovation from alumni, faculty, and guests. The citation on her Award of Merit reads as follows: "As Registrar and counselor for five presidents, ten deans, and legions of students, she has served the College with a distinc-~· tion the more remarkable for her to greet each by name." / 1 91'-'m>m has an award been more 1 deserved or more humbly i i 1 re<:ei•ve<l. i In other act1v1tJes during the Class of 1907, made the building day, the following slate of officers possible. Other members of the and directors was elected by the Harrison family also attended the Association: President, Bernard F. ceremony. Gessner '27; Executive Vice PresiPerhaps the most significant dent, William W. Simmons '48; Secevent of the day for most alumni retary, Franklin R. Atwell '53; took place during the Homecoming Treasurer, Samuel S. Kutler '54; Dinner. In a very simple ceremony, and directors, Richard F. Blaul '32. Association President Bernard F. Stephen Main ella '54, E.-- Paul Gessner and immediate past Pre- Mason, Jr. '37. George R. Selby sident William R. Tilles teamed up '32, and Carol P. Tilles '59. Still to present the Alumni Award of with one year to serve are Jerome Merit. Recipients this year were Gilden '54, Charlotte King '59, Miss Miriam Strange and Messrs. Barbara B. Oosterhout '55, and Paul L. Banfield and Myron L. Faye C. Polillo '56. Wolbarsht. Edward F. Lathrop accepted the award for Mr. Banfield in the latter's unavoidable absence. Miss Miriam Strange acknowledges Miss Strange, a full-time the warm tribute paid to her for her member of the St. John's com- continuing service to St. John's munity since 1930, and Registrar College since 1930. I I �January 1973 The Harrison Health Center was finished in time for the opening of the fall semester. NEW YEAR GREETINGS Mrs. Weigle and I have appreciated the many messages from alumni and friends, both at the time of our daughter's accident and over the holiday season. We take this opportunity to express our thanks and to wish each of you a Happy New Year. Richard D. Weigle N.Y.C. ALUMNI CHAPTER FORMED IN THE NEW YORK AREA Recently a number of alumni in the New York City area decided to establish a formal alumni ·chapter. After a number of organizational meetings, the following interim officers were chosen: Chairman Francis Mason Vice Chairman Lowell Shindler Treasurer Stewart Washburn Registrars Carolyn Leeuwenburgh Mary Wiseman Secretary Lovejoy Reeves The following have volunteered to head and organize committees: Newsletter Barbara V ona Seminars Stephen Benedict Special Events Adam Pinsker Student Counseling Michael Gold Student Liaison Stewart Washburn Also, the following Board of Directors has been chosen: Stephen Benedict '4 7 Tristram Campbell '47 Michael Gold '61 Alan Hoffman '49 Donald Kaplan '45 Carolyn Leeuwenburgh '55 Francis Mason '43 Adam Pinsker '52 Marvin Raeburn '51 Lovejoy Reeves '67 Lowell Shindler '64 Ronald' Silver '63 Steven Shore '68 Eugene Thaw '47 Gene Thornton '45 Barbara Kulaki Vona '64 Daniel Vona '67 Stewart Washburn '51 Mary Bittner Wiseman '58 A number of projects are already underway. Carolyn Leeuwen burgh and Mary Wiseman are putting together a registry of alumni in the area that will not only be useful to the Alumni Chapter but also to alumni moving in to the area and to New Yorkers who are students at the College. Monthly seminars are planned, beginning in February, at the New York Studio School, located at No. 8 West 8th Street. In January, one of the teleVISion series, "Dialogue of the Western World," will be shown to alumni in the studio of Channel 13, in New York City. The text for this showing is Thucydides' "Melz"an Conference." This is one of a series of 15 one-hour television seminars produced by the Maryland Center for Public Broadcasting, now being broadcast on Channels 6 7, 7 3 and 28 in Maryland. Other cities where alumni have expressed an interest in forming alumni chapters are Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington, D.C. Information on the ·activities of these groups will be published in future issues of The College. MARK VAN DOREN (1894-1972) St. John's College notes with great sadness the death on December 1Oth of its good friend Mark Van Doren. Pulitizer Prize-winning poet, critic, and teacher at Columbia University for 39 years, Mr. Van Doren was a frequent lecturer at St. John's during the early days of the New Program. The College community extends deepest sympathy to Mrs. Van Doren and to sons Charles '46 and John '47. 23 �The College ALUMNI ACTIVITIES 1912 Among his many activities, Ph£lip L. Alger this fall found time to direct a series of lecture-discussions on "Ethics and the Professions" at Union College. 1931 "Lou Rosenbush wins Maryland Futurity," read a recent newspaper headline in the Baltimore area. Certain that our alumnus Louis Rosenbush, Jr., was not a jockey, and doubtful that he had run in a horse race, we thought perhaps he had placed a lucky bet. But, no, Lou Rosenbush did run, not the alumnus but his namesake, a two-year-old owned by Rosenbush's friend Nathan Cohen. How many alumni have horses named after them? 1932 Richard F. Blaul, Annapolis insurance man and a director of the Alumni Association, is the honorary chairman of the Development Committee of Fairfield, the first non-profit nursing home in Anne Arundel County. 1936 WUliam N. Raz'righ, a native of Caroline County (Md.}, since 1961 has been administrator of the Kent-Caroline Libraries. 1939 elected resident vice president, Baltimore Service Office, Insurance Company of North America. Ken has been with INA since the mid-1930's. Thomas L. MacNemar is head of the Annapolis office of the Maryland State Department of Employment Security. 1952 Adam Pinsker is currently the president of the Association of American Dance Companies, and makes his home in New York City. Some sort of record was set this past August, when Alvin Aronson graduated with the summer senior class. Twenty years and three months after his original class graduated, Al received his own degree. We know that it was not easy for Al to become a student again, and offer our most sincere congratulations to him. After graduation;Al left for Israel for an indefinite stay. 1960 1957 fohn Kinloch paid a brief visit to the Alumni Office in late September; while here he told us he received his Ph.D. degree in mathematics last year frOm Vanderbilt University, and is now an associate professor of mathematics at East Tennessee State College. 1959 Kenneth G. Bennett in November was 24 partner, Charlotte has formed the Annapolis Counseling Service. Hank Braun and his wife Mary Anne (DeCamt'lUs) ;!58 live on Thompson Street in Annapolis with Stephen, twelve, and Robin nine. Wz'llz'am R. and Carol (Pht'lUps) Tilles were in from near-by Bowie, where they Jive with their children David, Jenny, and Paul. Bill has been with IBM for eleven years; his work concerns use of computers in the medical industry. Peter and Pat Schenck live in Annapolis with John, age nine, and Sarah, age seven. Peter is the psychologist at Henryton State Hospital for the adult mentally retarded, and was recently made a member of the newly~formed Annapolis Environmental Commission. Pat, who received her master's degree in elementary education from the University of Chicago in 1970, teaches at the Key School. Homecoming brought together several members of the class of 1959, and Patricz'a (Garretson) Schenck passed around a notebook and collected the following: Harvey Goldstein and wife Dale came in from Miami where he practices law. They issue a most sincere invitation to anyone from the College to visit them. Mary (Bittner) Wz'seman and husband Charles were down from New York, where Mary teaches philosophy at Brooklyn College. Charles, Mary, and her nine-year-old daughter Emily live in Manhattan. Charlotte King is the student counselor at the College, and she and her daughter, Rachel, make their home on campus. Charlotte was recently appointed assistant director of the Anne Arundel County Department of Social Services, and is working specifically to make public housing into livable, acceptable communities. Together with Henry D. Braun and a third Capt. fohn f. Lane writes to President Weigle that he is Chid of the Resource Management Division in headquarters of the Air Force Communications Service at Richards·Gebaur Air Force Base in Missouri. He is responsible for staff direction of the Commrmications Computer Programming Center and of the 2199th Computer Service Squadron. Dorothy Luttrell is working for her master's degree in Learning Disabilities at San Jose State, and lives in Mormtain View, Cal. Kenneth H. Thompson, Jr., associate professor of political science at the University of Southern California, had a unique political experience this past spring. Having filed for Democratic nomination to Congress in the primaries, he withdrew on doctor's advice after getting the flu; it was too late to remove his name from the ballot, and he won in a landslide a month after he withdrew. (We wish we could bring this account to a happy ending, but according to our reading of the California election results in November, Ken was not elected to the Congress.) 1961 Eyvind C. Ronquist is teaching at Sir George Williams University in Mon· treal. �January 1973 The Federal Trade Commission has promoted Harrison ]. Sheppard to deputy assistant executive director for legal coordination. Just settled into a Dr. A. Stevens RuMn is now an Army Medical Corps captain, stationed at the Kimpo Dispensary in Korea for 13 months. 1967 We understand that Alice G. Chalmers is a graduate student in biology at the University of Georgia. 1968 new job in the State of Washington within the past year, Harrison will apparently soon return to Washington, D.C. His principal duties will be- the formulation of programs of consumer protection and competition, and when these are approved, to supervise their execution. Mary (Ryce) Ham is a member of the neWly-formed Annapolis Environmental Commission. Ellen M. Luff, legal aid attorney in Annapolis, wife of one-time College artist-in-residence Eric Dennard, and aspirant to political office, won a legal battle this past summer to vote under her maiden name. Ms. Luff successfully contended that she did not have to register under her married name, and that to do so would damage her professionally, politically, and psychologically since she had been known as Ellen Luff throughout her professional life. 1962 fohn F. Miller, writing in November to Miss Strange, apologized for missing Homecoming since he was job hunting, trying to finish his master's thesis, and teaching at both the University of Maryland and Montgomery Junior College. 1964 Linda Rice is now married to Christopher B. Schaufele; her husband is with the mathematics department, University of Georgia. 1966 Maxine Ann Marshall-Shapiro, her husband, and three children live on a farm in Mendocino County, Calif. They intend to start their own school in the spring. Alison Karslake (SF) is studying French at the Graduate School of the University of Maryland, where she holds an assistantship and teaches one undergraduate course. The November mail brought the first "annual George Partlow letter," with the news that George has finished his Jamaican Peace Corps service, and is presently living in Michigan. During his period of transition, George is taking some courses -at the University at Flint. George also reports that Charles Watson, soon to become an M.D., goes to London in February for special work in tropical medicine; that Gzlbert Renaut is in law school, as is Lee (Ret"chelderfer) Tyner. Sally Rutsky is studying law at the University· of Michigan. Mt"chael S. Ryan is pursuing Arabic studies at American University in Cairo, UAR. Amy (Hummel) Rarick writes that she has become "a professional student": in August she received her M.L.S. degree from the University of Maryland, and is now a first-year M.A. student in Canadian studies and international economics at the Johns Hopkins University School of Advanced International Studies. Amy received both a fellowship and a research assistantship from · 'c'( SAIS. Amy also reports that Sarah Bell '67 has a fellowship and is a doctoral candidate in linguistics at M.I.T. 1969 Michael Hodgett (SF) has completed a tour of duty in Vietnam, and has accepted a position as Chief Teller in the Santa Fe National Bank. Catherine (Allen) Wagner received her M.A. degree in anthropology last June from the University of Illinois; her thesis was on the iconography of Peruvian Indian pottery. ; Cathy has applied for a Kent Fellowship from the Danforth Foundation to continue her Andean studies. She also tells us that 4· ,._. Alec Himwich '68 and she are in their third year as teaching assistants in a physical science course for non-science majors. Lee McKusick (SF} graduated from California State University at Los Angeles last June with a bachelor's degree in American studies. Lee would welcome letters or visits from former classmates; 377 Crane Blvd., Los Angeles, CA. 90065. 1970 Patricia Ann Carey and Matthew A. Frame ('73} were married August 9th in the Church of St. John and St. Philip, The Hague, Netherlands. They are making their home in Annapolis while Matt completes his senior year at the ~ollege. He, by the way, is the son of James H. Frame '50 and the nephew of Rogers G. Albrltton '45. Brent McAdam (SF) writes that fohn F. Emerson; now Brother John Houghton, O.P., made his first vows as a Dominican friar in September, and is stationed at St. Albert's Priory in Oakland, Calif. A brief note from fohn Dean infonns us that Arthur Luse is teaching at a prep school in up-state New York, a whopping load of five courses! John himself anticipates publication of his first article, "The Two Arguments of John Donne's 'Air and Angels'," in the Fall '72 issue of Massachusett-s Studies in English. ]ames F. Scott (SF) writes that he is now living, and working with retarded children, in Syltholinsgade, a small town "at the bottom of Denmark, where the ferry leaves for Germany." 1971 Sheila Babbs (SF) is a Peace Corps Volunteer teaching English to Senagalese in Thies, West Africa. Word has reached us that Alan Plutzz·ck and Anna Lz"via Thorpe '73 are married, although our informant did not know where or when the event took place. V. Mt"chael Vt"ctoroff is now a freshman at Baylor College of Medicine at the Texas Medical Center in Houston. Last year Mike worked on the Citizens Task Force for Mental Health in Ohio, apparently a most rewarding experience. 1972 Dana E. Netherton is a Naval officer candidate at Newport, R.I., and anticipates being commissioned in February. Jean K. Carr is a graduate fellow in biology at Mount Holyoke College. Candace G. Lindo is working as an executive secretary and living in Alexandria, Va. It appears that Martha E. Belt and Donald E. Massell '70 are now man and wife and arc living in Chico, Calif. 1 1903- Edgar C. Wrede, Brooklyn, N.Y., October 19, 1972. .9 1909 - Harold S. Cutler, Weston, Mass., August 29, 1972. '"---1914 - S. Maurice Phillips, Drexel Hill, Pa.,_ ~.eptember 10, 1972. i ").9'22 The Rev. William R. Hofuey, Centreville, Md., November 22, 1972. 1,.~_,22·"'- C. Edwin Cockey, Queenstown\ Md~ctober 22, 1972. t.l-~- Capt. Henry B. MacMannis, Peter~~~""'Va., August 14, 1972. J)PZ4 - Jesse E. Smith, Augusta, Me. ~Dr. James K. Insley, Baltimore, Md., October 6, 1972. 19~- John K. Lucas, Kill Devil Hills, N.C., September 20, 1972. ~'~ �Photo Credlts: Front and back cover;,, Eugene Jorgov. Page 1, Encyclopedia of World Art, Vol. 3 (McGraw-Hill, 1959). Page 18, Charles Post. Page 21, Sheldon C. Heitner. Page 22, Sheldon C. Heitner, Thomas Parran, Jr. Page 23, Charles Post. Page 24, Cal and Don Young. The College St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland 21404 Second-class postage paid at Annapolis, Maryland, and at additional mailing offices. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The College </em>(1969-1981) Description An account of the resource St. John's College's Office of the Dean published <em>The College</em> from 1969 to 1981. The publication superseded <em><a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/37" title="The Bulletin of St. John's College">The Bulletin of St. John's College</a></em>.  <em>The College</em> was in turn continued by <a href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/collections/show/13" title="The St. John's Review"><em>The St. John's Review</em></a> in 1981.  <br /><br />A separate magazine for St. John's alumni titled <em>The College </em>began publication in 2001, continuing <em>The St. John's Reporter</em>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The College" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=12">Items in the The College Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource 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 Santa Fe, NM Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thecollegemagazine 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. 25 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Development Offices of St. John's College Title A name given to the resource The College, January 1973 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1973-01 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Spaeth, Robert Louis Parran, Jr., Thomas Campbell, John Randolph Sinks, Jeffrey Allanbrook, Douglas Description An account of the resource Volume XXIV, Number 4 of The College. Published in January 1973. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context The_College_Vol_24_No_4_1973 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 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 The College