43 20 5655 https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/7dad6289b027920f9476517235999cbd.pdf a183f703914f4a2886ebefa0dac3a061 PDF Text Text " Summer 200:1 Le~turc Schedule May21 Sam Kutler "Four Favorite Irrational Numbers: The Differences between Modern and Ancient Mathematics" May28 Mark Sinnett "From Measurement to Measure, From Ratio to Real Number" June 4 Robert Goldberg On Aristotle's Politics June 11 Gary Borjesson '"Tis a point of friendship': Hal and Falstaff in Henry IV'' June 18 Jacqueline Pfeffer "The Family in Plato's Republic and Statesman" June 25 John White and friends A Conversation July 2 Walter Sterling "Some More or Less Obvious Thoughts on Why One Should be Wary of Action from Principle" July 9 David Cohen, A87 "Erotic Geometries of Time, and the Coherence of Spaces Between" July 16 John Verdi "Conversation and Community: On the Phaedo" All lectures will be given on Wednesday evening at 7:30 in the King William Room, with the exception of David Cohen's lecture, which will be given in the Conversation Room. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series Description An account of the resource The Wednesday Night Lecture Series, hosted during the summer term by the Graduate Institute at St. John’s College in Annapolis, is a less-formal version of the college’s formal Friday Night Lectures. The Wednesday Night lectures are an opportunity for tutors and for graduates of the college who are pursuing academic careers to present the first fruits of their thinking to an attentive and inquisitive audience. The lectures, held in the King William Room of the Barr-Buchanan Center at 7:30 p.m., with a question period afterward in a neighboring classroom, are free and open to the public.<br /><br />For more information, and for a schedule of upcoming lectures, please visit the <strong><a title="Summer lecture series" href="https://www.sjc.edu/annapolis/events/lectures/summer-wednesday-night-lecture-series" target="_blank">St. John's College website</a></strong>.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=31">Items in the Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 1 page 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 Graduate Institute Title A name given to the resource Summer 2003 Lecture Schedule Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2003 Description An account of the resource Schedule of lectures and concerts in Summer 2003, sponsored by the Graduate Institute. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Lecture Schedule 2003 Summer Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Graduate Institute Lecture schedule Summer lecture series https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/db4caa4fbabe01200fa6928f1b2b9354.pdf e8b9c48b9ec8aad64fe32c090c483204 PDF Text Text Summer Lecture Slate 2004 S!JOHN'S College June 2 Jason Tipton "Something Fishy in Aristotle" June 9 Elliott Zuckerman "Streams, Spinning-Wheels, and Organ-Grinders. A Talk at the Piano" June 16 Joe Sachs "On Aristotle's Poetics" June 23 Christine Kalkavage On Vergil June 30 Susan Paalman " Galen, Nature, and 0 bservation" July 7 Samuel Kutler "Begitmings" July 14 Jolm Verdi "On Seeing Aspects" July 16 (Friday!) Will Williamson Louis Petrich "Othello' s Beginning, Middle, and End" July 21 Sriram Nambiar "Formal and Informal Proofs In Ancient and Modem Mathematics" ANNAP O LIS • SANTA PB OFFICE OF THE DEAN P.0. Box 28oo ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND 2I404 4I0-626-25II FAX 4I0-295-6937 www.sjca. edu All lectures will be held at 7:30p.m. in the King William Room, except for Mr. Zuckerman' s performance/talk, which will be in the Hodson Room, and the Friday-night performance/discussion of Messrs. Petrich and Williamson, which will be in the Great Hall. �Summer Lecture Slate 2004 June 2 Jason Tipton "Something Fishy in Aristotle" June 9 Elliott Zuckerman "Streams, Spinning-Wheels, and Organ-Grinders. A Talk at the Piano" June 16 Joe Sachs June 23 Christine Kalkavage On Vergil June 30 Susan Paalman "Galen, Nature, and Observation" July 7 Samuel Kutler "Beginnings" July 14 John Verdi "On Seeing Aspects" July 16 (Friday!) Will Williamson Louis Petrich "Othello's Beginning, Middle, and End" July 21 Sriram Nambiar "Formal and Informal Proofs In Ancient and Modern Mathematics" "On Aristotle's Poetics" All lectures will be held at 7:30p.m. in the King William Room, except for Mr. Zuckerman's performance/talk, which will be in the Hodson Room, and the Friday-night performance/discussion of Messrs. Petrich and Williamson, which will be in the Great Hall. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series Description An account of the resource The Wednesday Night Lecture Series, hosted during the summer term by the Graduate Institute at St. John’s College in Annapolis, is a less-formal version of the college’s formal Friday Night Lectures. The Wednesday Night lectures are an opportunity for tutors and for graduates of the college who are pursuing academic careers to present the first fruits of their thinking to an attentive and inquisitive audience. The lectures, held in the King William Room of the Barr-Buchanan Center at 7:30 p.m., with a question period afterward in a neighboring classroom, are free and open to the public.<br /><br />For more information, and for a schedule of upcoming lectures, please visit the <strong><a title="Summer lecture series" href="https://www.sjc.edu/annapolis/events/lectures/summer-wednesday-night-lecture-series" target="_blank">St. John's College website</a></strong>.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=31">Items in the Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 2 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 Office of the Dean Title A name given to the resource Summer Lecture Slate 2004 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2004 Description An account of the resource Schedule of lectures and concerts in Summer 2004, [sponsored by the Graduate Institute]. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Lecture Schedule 2004 Summer Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Graduate Institute Lecture schedule Summer lecture series https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/36177aa40bac674c9caafdb610139551.pdf 5c987eb2ae8afec0e6e32aded8ddb5df PDF Text Text Summer lectures 2005 June 1 Patricia Locke and friends Reading of Philoctetes June 8 ZenaHitz Aristotle on self-knowledge and friendship June 15 David Stephenson "Mythos" and "Logos" (On the Poetics) June 22 Suzy Paalman Some Thoughts on the Book of Job June29 Anthony Seeger "Who Owns Music?" July6 Tom May "My true account:" A Tutorial Discussion about Milton's Sonnets VII "How soon hath time the suttle theef of youth," and XVI, "When I consider how my light is spent" July 13 George Russell On Republic I July20 John Verdi and friends Seminar on Aristotle, Metaphysics, Book I, 1-4 (980a21--985b22) and Book II (993a30--995a20) � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series Description An account of the resource The Wednesday Night Lecture Series, hosted during the summer term by the Graduate Institute at St. John’s College in Annapolis, is a less-formal version of the college’s formal Friday Night Lectures. The Wednesday Night lectures are an opportunity for tutors and for graduates of the college who are pursuing academic careers to present the first fruits of their thinking to an attentive and inquisitive audience. The lectures, held in the King William Room of the Barr-Buchanan Center at 7:30 p.m., with a question period afterward in a neighboring classroom, are free and open to the public.<br /><br />For more information, and for a schedule of upcoming lectures, please visit the <strong><a title="Summer lecture series" href="https://www.sjc.edu/annapolis/events/lectures/summer-wednesday-night-lecture-series" target="_blank">St. John's College website</a></strong>.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=31">Items in the Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 1 page 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 Graduate Institute Title A name given to the resource Summer lectures 2005 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2005 Description An account of the resource Schedule of lectures and concerts in Summer 2005, sponsored by the Graduate Institute. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Lecture Schedule 2005 Summer Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Graduate Institute Lecture schedule Summer lecture series https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/ce1e16adc2e7155184cb9d375de06282.pdf d277422ec3a431c978519196234a496b PDF Text Text S!JOHN'S College A NN APOLI S • S A NTA PE P.O. Box 28oo SCHEDULE OF WEDNESDAY EVENTS SUMMER2006 Wednesday 7 June Agamemnon: film version, discussion to follow led by Andrew Romiti, A'06. Note: this will take place in the Hodson Room Wednesday 14 June All-College Seminar: Selection from Herodotus' History (the battle ofThermopylae). (Book VII, ch. 172 - end). Photocopies of the reading will be available in the Assistant Dean's office. Wednesday 2 1 June Bach's Suite for Solo Cello in E-flat major: a brief talk and musical performance; Eric Stoltzfus, Music Librarian and Tutor Note: This will take place in the Hodson Room Wednesday 28 June "Brotherhood in Genesis" Joseph Smith, Tutor Wednesday 5 July Amor in Virgil's Aeneid; Louis Miller, Tutor Wednesday 12 July Flannery O'Connor; Joan Silver, Tutor Wednesday 19 July The Principle ofNon-Contradiction in Aristotle's Metaphysics; a discussion led by John Verdi, Tutor Wednesday 25 July Oedipus Rex: film version, discussion to follow Location to be announced ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND 21404 4I0-1163-237I FAX 410-626-2886 www. stjohnscollege.edu Unless otherwise noted, these events will take place in the King William Room at 7. 30 p.m. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series Description An account of the resource The Wednesday Night Lecture Series, hosted during the summer term by the Graduate Institute at St. John’s College in Annapolis, is a less-formal version of the college’s formal Friday Night Lectures. The Wednesday Night lectures are an opportunity for tutors and for graduates of the college who are pursuing academic careers to present the first fruits of their thinking to an attentive and inquisitive audience. The lectures, held in the King William Room of the Barr-Buchanan Center at 7:30 p.m., with a question period afterward in a neighboring classroom, are free and open to the public.<br /><br />For more information, and for a schedule of upcoming lectures, please visit the <strong><a title="Summer lecture series" href="https://www.sjc.edu/annapolis/events/lectures/summer-wednesday-night-lecture-series" target="_blank">St. John's College website</a></strong>.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=31">Items in the Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 1 page 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 Graduate Institute Title A name given to the resource Schedule of Wednesday Events, Summer 2006 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2006 Description An account of the resource Schedule of lectures and concerts in Summer 2006, sponsored by the Graduate Institute. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Lecture Schedule 2006 Summer Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Graduate Institute Lecture schedule Summer lecture series https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/c3d01b68a220a87bfa6792827ea2f304.pdf 2d621463e9b4abab28fed0c1359f6f6a PDF Text Text Dean's Office CAMPUS MAIL SUMMER 2007 LECTURES BY ST. JOHN'S TUTORS BARR BUCHANAN CENTER/WOODWARD HALL. KING WILLIAM ROOM 7:30P.M. June20 George Russell Plutarch's Alexander June 27 Patricia Locke Primordial Silence: The Silence of Chaco Canyon July 11 Jonathan Tuck Sons of Homer: The Post-Homeric Epic July 18 Faculty Study Group On Aristotle's Metaphysics On the Metaphysics July25 Daniel Harrell Does Beauty Have a Place in Liberal Education? August 1 Michael Weinman "A divided sovereignty": Metaphysics, XII.lO and the Echo of Homer K/S/Lectures/SU07 schedule � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series Description An account of the resource The Wednesday Night Lecture Series, hosted during the summer term by the Graduate Institute at St. John’s College in Annapolis, is a less-formal version of the college’s formal Friday Night Lectures. The Wednesday Night lectures are an opportunity for tutors and for graduates of the college who are pursuing academic careers to present the first fruits of their thinking to an attentive and inquisitive audience. The lectures, held in the King William Room of the Barr-Buchanan Center at 7:30 p.m., with a question period afterward in a neighboring classroom, are free and open to the public.<br /><br />For more information, and for a schedule of upcoming lectures, please visit the <strong><a title="Summer lecture series" href="https://www.sjc.edu/annapolis/events/lectures/summer-wednesday-night-lecture-series" target="_blank">St. John's College website</a></strong>.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=31">Items in the Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 1 page 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 Office of the Dean Title A name given to the resource Summer 2007 Lectures by St. John's Tutors Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2007 Description An account of the resource Schedule of lectures and concerts in Summer 2007, [sponsored by the Graduate Institute]. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Lecture Schedule 2007 Summer Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Graduate Institute Lecture schedule Summer lecture series https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/b29875277db923138981f8612a75889b.pdf 7f378da25409427c61c12be1594c633d PDF Text Text S!JOHN'S College SUMMER 2008 LECTURES 7:30P.M. ANNAPO LI S • SANTA FE June 25 Jonathan Tuck Plato 's Epitaph to Aster July2 John White On the Principle ofNon-Contradiction (Aristotle's Metaphysics, IV.4) July 9 Chester Burke, Flute Leslie Star, oboe Eric Stoltzfus, cello Cynthia Lapp, soprano Baroque Sonatas and Arias July 16 Movie & Discussion Rash omon July 23 Faculty Study Group On Kant's Third Critique Kant' s Critique ofJudgment July 30 Christian Holland On Bernard's Summation in Woolfs The Waves August 6 William Braithwaite On Proving True Opinion (Dred Scott Decision, 1857) OFFICE OF THE DEAN P.O. Box z8oo ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND 21404 4w-6z6-zsn FAX 4I0-295-6937 www. ~jca. edu The concert on July 9 will be held in the Great Hall. The movie on July 16 will be viewed in the Hodson Conference Room. On July 23, the faculty study group will hold their discussion in the Hartle Room. All other lectures will be held in the King William Room. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series Description An account of the resource The Wednesday Night Lecture Series, hosted during the summer term by the Graduate Institute at St. John’s College in Annapolis, is a less-formal version of the college’s formal Friday Night Lectures. The Wednesday Night lectures are an opportunity for tutors and for graduates of the college who are pursuing academic careers to present the first fruits of their thinking to an attentive and inquisitive audience. The lectures, held in the King William Room of the Barr-Buchanan Center at 7:30 p.m., with a question period afterward in a neighboring classroom, are free and open to the public.<br /><br />For more information, and for a schedule of upcoming lectures, please visit the <strong><a title="Summer lecture series" href="https://www.sjc.edu/annapolis/events/lectures/summer-wednesday-night-lecture-series" target="_blank">St. John's College website</a></strong>.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=31">Items in the Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 1 page 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 Graduate Institute Title A name given to the resource Summer 2008 Lectures Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2008 Description An account of the resource Schedule of lectures and concerts in Summer 2008, sponsored by the Graduate Institute. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Lecture Schedule 2008 Summer Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Graduate Institute Lecture schedule Summer lecture series https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/c26574c0e09b213e2a336eabad4bc9e6.pdf acce14cbf777e6a2a12c63a4efdd0667 PDF Text Text SUMMER2009 WEDNESDAY EVENING EVENTS June 24 Joan Silver A Reading from Flannery O'Connor's Artificial Nigger, followed by discussion July I Matthew Linck On Aristotle's Physics and Ethics July 8 Greg Recco Developing Emotions: Aristotle's Rhetoric II.2-ii July 15 Marcel Widzisz The Greatness of Early Rome According to Livy July 22 John Verdi Ambiguity in Art and Science July 29 Louis Petrich A Viewing of Kenneth Branagh's film of Shakespeare's Henry V. Followed by discussion August 5 George Russell On Lincoln The movie on July 29 will be shown in the Hodson Conference Room in Mellon Hall. All other events will be held in the Great Hall of McDowell Hall. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series Description An account of the resource The Wednesday Night Lecture Series, hosted during the summer term by the Graduate Institute at St. John’s College in Annapolis, is a less-formal version of the college’s formal Friday Night Lectures. The Wednesday Night lectures are an opportunity for tutors and for graduates of the college who are pursuing academic careers to present the first fruits of their thinking to an attentive and inquisitive audience. The lectures, held in the King William Room of the Barr-Buchanan Center at 7:30 p.m., with a question period afterward in a neighboring classroom, are free and open to the public.<br /><br />For more information, and for a schedule of upcoming lectures, please visit the <strong><a title="Summer lecture series" href="https://www.sjc.edu/annapolis/events/lectures/summer-wednesday-night-lecture-series" target="_blank">St. John's College website</a></strong>.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=31">Items in the Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 1 page 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 Graduate Institute Title A name given to the resource Summer 2009, Wednesday Evening Events Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2009 Description An account of the resource Schedule of lectures and concerts in Summer 2009, sponsored by the Graduate Institute. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Lecture Schedule 2009 Summer Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Graduate Institute Lecture schedule Summer lecture series https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/d4c62daadd9001d46092a82a10334306.pdf 40e5408c6a885e72c51dea18077cf4b6 PDF Text Text �The College Cover: St. John's College celebrates its 275th anniversary, by Seth Goldwin. 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 vvere 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 Farran, Jr. Editorial Assistant: Maurice Trimmer Tl1e 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 October 1971 No.3 In the October Issue: On Precision, by Jacob Klein I The Report of the President, 1970-71 9 News on the Campuses 21 Alumni Activities 27 �On Precision* I am afraid this will be a tedious and annoying lecture. I do not know how you will stand it. I propose to reflect on the meaning and the various implications of precision. Why should I do that? Well, however untidy, vague, and undisciplined we may be, something like precision rules over our lives, rules in fact over the Western world as a whole. And by the West I mean great many parts, although not all parts, of our globe. I said something like precision is a ruling power in our lives. For the very word "precision" is ambiguous. To begin with, it is not identical with "clarity." Something that is clear need not be precise, and something that is precise need not be clear. Moreover we should note that the English word "precision" does not retain the connotations of its Latin root. I shall have to come back to this point later on. On the other hand there is close kinship between "precision," "accuracy," "correctness," and "exactitude," but these words are not synonyms, although very often they appear to be and arc used interchangeably. (Modern statistical theories do, by the way, make a distinction between exactitude and precision.) At the risk of treading in the footsteps of Prodicus, the man most concerned with the right usc of words, the man whom Socrates calls his 0 teacher"a deceptively ironic appellation, which is as much funny as it is serious-! shall try right away to distinguish the meanings of these four words. Many examples will be needed for this purpose. A tailor has to be very careful about the length and the width of a suit at different points of the body of the man for whom the suit is made. The tailor has to be accurate in his measuring, cutting, and sewing. So has a carpenter in making a table or a door. Accuracy is required to fit a part of a machine into or onto another part or other parts of that machine so that it can do its work properly. If I am asked by a stranger how to get from the place where we meet to a certain building in town, I have to be careful in describing the way he has to take, as for instance: three blocks ahead, then turn to your right, continue for two blocks and then turn to your left; then you will see the building you are looking for. In saying this I must be *A lecture given at St. John's College in Annapolis on February 23, 1968. By Jacob Klein confident that the description I give is accurate enough. In all these cases accuracy connotes carefulness in the work one is doing or in the words one is uttering. Let us turn to correctness. I might ask someone to answer a question. After the answer is given, I say: this is correct. I mean the answer is a right one. I might advise a friend to behave in a certain way when he faces Mr. X and Mr. Y or some · peculiar circumstances. If he does, he behaves correctly, that is, in the right way. I might instruct someone how to pronounce certain words in a foreign language. If he learns how to do that, he will pronounce those words in the right way, that is correctly. Children are supposed to learn (and sometimes do not learn) how to conduct themselves correctly, that is, according to accepted stand. ards and modes of life. In every case correctness implies rightness in speaking, behaving, reacting. What about exactitude? We say: the collection comprises exactly 1163 paintings; or, this lump of metal fits exactly into this hole; or, I feel exactly as you do about this event; or, the distinction you just mentioned coincides exactly with that which exists between justice and mercy. Exactitude seems to point to the perfect matching ot something with something in terms of number or of size or of some other quantity or even of some yardstick that cannot be quantified. It is in this vein that we speak of various mathematical disciplines as of exact sciences, allowing for approximation procedures which do not detract from their exactitude. Thus carefulness, rightness, and perfect matching characterize accuracy, correctness, and exactitude. Do they not also circumscribe the meaning of precision? They do, and let me repeat forcefully: they do; and that is the reason why these words arc so often used interchangeably. But precision seems to have broader connotations. Let us again consider some examples. In a novel by Henry James, we find the following description. I quote, leaving out a great deal: He [Christopher Newman] had a very wellformed head, with a shapely, symmetrical balance of the frontal and the occipital development, and a good deal of straight, rather dry brown hair. His complexion was brown, and his nose l �The College had a bold, wcii-marked arch. His eye was of a clear, cold gray, and save for a rather abundant mustache he was clean-shaved. He had the flat . jaw and sinewy neck which arc frequent in the American type .... The cut of this gentleman's mustache, with the two premature wrinkles in the cheek above it, and the fashion of his garments, in which an exposed shirt-front and a cerulean cravat played perhaps an obtrusive part, completed the conditions of his identity. Henry James is praised for the "extreme precision of his style," but we might remain dissatisfied by this description of Christopher Newman. Are the "conditions of his identity," to use Henry James' own words, sufficiently delineated? Can this be done at ail? Let us turn to another example. In an old zoology textbook a precise description of the leech is given, which again I shaii not quote in fuii: The leech is an elongated flattened worm, from three to five inches in length, and provided with a muscular sucker at each end. The body is marked externally by a series of transverse constrictions dividing it into rings of annuli, and is capable of considerable elongation and contraction . . . . The shape varies greatly with the degree of elongation or contraction. The body is broadest a little way behind the middle of its length, and is oval in transverse section, the dorsal surface being more convex than the ventral. _ .. The anterior sucker is oval, with the longer· axis longitudinal. ... The posterior sucker is circular, and larger than the anterior one. . . . The picture of the leech emerges distinctly, and we would appreciate its precision even more if I had quoted the text in its entirety. We note, it is nreant to be precise in the first place. The last example is taken from Gulliver's Travels. Most of you wiii remember that the Liiiiputian king orders a search of Gulliver's belongings and persuades Gulliver to submit to the search. Two officers are appointed for the task. Gulliver lifts them gently up and puts them into his pockets, although some of them he chooses not to divulge. The officers examine everything they find and write a formal and precise report about their findings. Most of the objects in Gulliver's pockets are unfamiliar to the two Liiiiputians, and espcciaiiy his watch, which-parenthetically-is odd, considering the Liiiiputians' indisputable mathematical and mechanical competence and inventiveness. This is what they write: Out of the right fob hung a great silver chain, with a wonderful kind of engine at the bottom. We directed him to draw out whatever was fastened to that chain; which appeared to be a globe, half silver, and half of some transparent 2 metal; for on the transparent side we saw certain strange figures circularly drawn, and thought we could touch them tiii we found our fingers stopped by that lucid substance. He put his engine to our .ears, which made an incessant noise like that of a watermiii and we conjecture it is either some unknown animal or the god that he worships .. _. The description of Christopher Newman is that of an imaginary being. The description of the leech applies to any leech and is a description of a living creature. The description of Gulliver's watch might also apply to any watch, although the investigators do not know what it is, what purpose it serves. Ail these descriptions are as precise as they could be. What is to he learned from them about precision? In every case the description intends to show what the object described looks like, be that object familiar or unfamiliar to us. Depending on the degree of its precision, the description will enable us to recognize the object in question more or less readily. In the case of Christopher Newman, we are somewhat doubtful. But we should certainly he able to identify with the help of the description a leech as a leech. And being familiar with oldfashioned watches, we recognize in the "wonderful kind of engine" described by the Liiiiputians-a watch. Note that in every case the description appeals to features assumed to be known: to a "well-formed head," a "mustache," a person "of American type"; to a "worm," "elongation" and "contraction," an ''oval" and "circular" shape; to a "globe," "transparency," the noise of a watermiii. The description brings up a realm of known things and appearances to which the object described is supposed to belong. This is all-important: without such a known realm to which the object described can be allocated, precision is not possible at all. The closer this allocation, the better described the object becomes. This is how all legal documents tend to be precise, so much so that precision in the domain of jurisprudence is the prototype of all precision everywhere else. The relation between persons, or bodies of men, or estates, must indeed be stated in terms that make it possible to apply the stated relation precisely to any particular case; or, conversely, actions of men, together with the circumstances surrounding these actions, must be described in a way which permits us to refer to these actions as precisely falling or not falling under certain statutes or laws. To point out where something can he located, to what sort of thing or stuff something belongs, is indeed the primary task of a precise description, the primary concern of precision itself. Andto repeat-this allocation is accomplished by describing what the thing or event in question looks like. I just said: what something looks like. But should I not rather have said: what it is? You sense immediately that the phrases "what something looks like" and "what some- �October 1971 thing is" can be, but need not be, identical. And you know, or at least you ought to know, that this phrase "what is it?" (.rl Ean) is the Socratic question, which-in all its seeming simplicity-revolutionized human thinking and human behavior. To answer this question requires indeed -precision. Both the closeness and the disparity of what things look like and of what they are have been forever incorporated in the Greek word <l8o> (or i8ta) and in its literal Latin translation species (in l'~nglish parlance: species). These words do indeed signify both the looks and the what of a thing. The use and abuse of these words have moulded human thought in various ways for more than two thousand years. Whether the looks and . . . this phrase "what is it?" (Ti irrn) is the Socratic question, which-in all its seeming simplicityrevolutionized human thinking and human behavior. the what of a thing can be identified or must be separated depends on what the thing in question is aiiocated to, to what sort of group or family or tribe or genus of things this particular thing belongs. Examples: an oak looks like a tree and is a tree; a marine polyp (a coral) looks like a tree, but is not a tree. And let us not forget: while we were trying to grasp the meaning of precision~ we had to use examples of precision, and these examples showed us either something that was like what we were seeking or the very thing itself. Let us also keep in mind that the group or family or genus to which the thing sought is allocated, to which it is supposed to belong or actuaiiy belongs; is something familiar, something if not known 7 at least quasi-known to us. There is hardly any doubt that young and old in Plato's Academy exercised their powers to answer the Socratic question, what this or that thing is, with precision. (And may I say, this entailed more than I had occasion to mention so far.) Not only do Platonic dialogues bear witness to such exercises in precision-and do that as much seriously as playfuiiy, ironicaiiy, and even critically-but there are stories which report both gleeful and malicious attacks on this Academic preoccupation. There is a passage in Plato's dialogue, the Statesman,' in which Man is described-playfuiiy, to be sure-as a "featherless biped." And there is the story' that a Socratic extremist, Diogenes 1 266E 2 Diog. Laert. VI, 40 the Cynic, threw a plucked rooster into the Academy, saying: ~<There you have the Platonic man," whereupon the Academy is supposed to have added to "featherless biped" the expression "with flat nails." It is possible that the passage in the Statesman, far from being the source of Diogenes' joke, is-among other things-an echo of it. Athenaeus the Grammarian (about 200 A.D.) quotes' a fragment of Epicrates, a contemporary of Plato, of Plato's nephew, Spcusippos, who succeeded Plato as head of the Academy, and of Aristotle. In this fragment Epicrates, who must have been an eyewitness of many things in and about Athens and presumably an avid coiiector of all the gossip swirling around him, gently parodies the pursuit of precision in the Academy. I shaH quote it in full. It isunderstandably cnough-'a dialogue. I shall call the two speakers Q and A. Mentioned in this dialogue are not only Plato and Speusippos, but also Menedemus, another follower of Plato. Here it is . Q. What are Plato, Spcusippos and Menedemus doing? vVith what are they busying themselves now? What are they speculating about? What proposition are these people tracking down? Tell me this discreetly, if you have reached the point of understanding anything about it, tell me, by the Earth .... A. Oh, but I know how to speak about these things in ali clarity. For, at the Panathcnaean festival, I saw a herd of striplings . . . in the school of the Academy and heard them say things ineffable, out of all order. They produced definitions about nature, distinguishing the ways of life of animals, and the natures of trees, and the genera of vegetables; and, among the latter, they scrutinized the-pumpkin, searching to what genus it belongs. Q. And how in the world did they define it and to what genus did they say this plant belongs? Reveal it, if you know. A. First all of them were speechless, then they looked at it attentively and, bent forward, meditated for quite a while. Suddenly, while the lads were still bent and searching, one of them said: the pumpkin is a round vegetable, another said: a round grass, and another again: a round tree. Hearing this, a doctor from Sicilian lands farted, intimating that they were talking nonsense. Q. They must have been terribly angry, weren't they? Did they not shout that this was an insult? For to do that in public is unbecoming! s II59 D-F 3 �The College A. The lads didn't blink an eye. Plato, who was present and exceedingly mild, did not stir a hit, and enjoined them to define the pumpkin again and anew and to state to what genus it belongs. ... And they went on dividing. Some of the comical effects of this parody do not come through in an English translation. For the words ~'define," "distinguish," ''divide," as well as "genus" do not retain in this translation the flavor of the unusual mixed with their accepted colloquial meaning. And yet the pomposity of these technically inflated terms is not the least important element of the parody. These terms arc the fruit of the pursuit of precision. Accustomed as we are to them, we understand-and misunderstand-them easily. There is, however, one word in the last sentence of Epi~ crates' fragment ("and they went on dividing") which certainly attracts our attention. It is the word "divide." It is pretty clear, by the way, that many exchmoges between Q and A, which must have preceded the last sentence, were not recorded by Athenaeus. What does that word "divide" mean? Let us assume that agreement is reached about the family, the genus of the pumpkin or of anything else. The family is familiar to us (as in Epicrates' parody "vegetable," "grass/' "tree" arc familiar to the young men), but is at best only a quasi-known. Does not, therefore, for the sake of precision, a new question necessarily arise: What is this genus, that is, to what family does tl1is genus belong, what is the genus of this genus? This new genus, this new family, will have to be larger than the first. And then again the question will have to be repeated for this new genus, and then again for the next one, and so on, and so on. Is there an end to this questioning in the pursuit of precision? If there is, will not the final genus be the all-comprehensive one? Will it still be a "genus" then? And shall we be able to comprehend it? It will have to be something that does not lack anything, that is self-sufficient, complete,-perfcct. Will it be accessible to us at all? And this question means: Is it within our powers to be really precise? Let me say haltingly and unprcciscly that this is the point around which the intellectual effort of Plato and of those who follow him gravitates always. Let us consider anew what I have been saying. In order to grasp what something is, we have to allocate it to a family of things quasi-known to us, and then to allocate this family of things, this genus, to another larger family also quasi-known to us, and to keep on ascending. Only when and if the last step has been made, can we say that we have found out what the unknown thing, that X which started us off on this journey is, can we say that we know what it is. It is this last step that illuminates-sun-likenot only all the intermediary genera, but the very thing, the what of which we wanted to know. 4 This entire procedure so far can be likened to an analysis in mathematics. A mathematical analysis handles the unknown as if it were known by relating it to known, or as we say, given, quantities, that is, by setting up an equation, and then, by reversing itself, finds out what the unknown is. I say "by reversing itself," because the final computation is not analytic, but, as the tradition calls it, synthetic. A 1\uclidean proof is synthetic: it descends from given magnitudes, through given magnitudes, to the unknown magnitude and thus makes it known. This is what is called a de-monstration, an U7r63n~t~, a showing by starting from something that is known. The finding, the discovery oi a de-monstration is accomplished analytically: we have to ascend from the unknown, taken as known, to the actually known. The proof, then, the synthetic de-monstration, is the reversal of the analysis. What we have been dealing with so far in the pursuit of precision was the ascent from the unknown, allocated to the quasi-known, up to the highest point which we have to assume as actually known. This assumption is fraught with uncertainty, and yet precision hinges on it. This much, however, can be said: if we reverse the direction of our pursuit and descend from the highest point to the unknown of which we want to know what it is, we shall "define" it. ''Definition" in the Socratic-Platonic scheme amounts indeed to "de-monstration" in the strict sense of the word. How can this descent be accomplished? The simple succession downwards of the genera that could lead to Epicratcs' stately and ridiculous pumpkin for instance may not be immediately and directly available. What we have to do is to ''divide" every family, every genus, suitably into parts, into sub-genera (or sub-species, if you please), then choose that family part in which the pumpkin itself is finally reached. It is to this procedure that the word 1 4 Had we more of ' divide" in Epicrates' fragment alludes. Epicrates' text, we could perhaps witness Q's astonishment and A's joking explanations of such ''divisions." As matters stand, we have to rely on Plato's dialogues. There we find prescriptions for how to go about dividing a genus. In the Phaedrus it is said" that we should do the cutting "where the natural joints are" and not try to break any part after the manner of a bad carver. But where are the natural joints? In the Statesman 6 we are enjoined to cut every genus "through the middle," for in that way one is more likely to find the species, the "ideas," inherent in the genus which is being cut. This prescription seems to favor the halving of the genus so as to get two sub-genera, two species, and it is not immediately clear why this should be the most desirable, the most advantageous, the most precise dividing. Nor is it clear how we can start dividing the all-comprehensive genus, if there be one. 4 C£. Aristophanes, Clouds, 742 '265E "262B �October 1971 In the examples of division given in Plato's Sophist and Statesman the cutting does not begin that high. The first division in the Sophist begins with the family of human arts, the genus ''art," and ''defines/' that is, de-monstrates "angling" as follows (I quote the summary of the division)7: manual work, all handicraft; the other, manifesting itself in any art, as for example in carpentry. The first one, the purely cognitive one, the one detached from all handicraft, is then again subdivided, and now I quote the summary of the delimitation which is given after the two main speakers in the dialogue had gone to great lengths to reach their goal": Of Art as a whole half was acquisitive, and of the acquisitive, half was coercive, and of the coercive, half was hunting, and of hunting half was animal hunting, and of animal hunting half was water-hunting and of water hunting the lower The purely cognitive knowledge had, to begin with, a part that gives commands; and a portion of this was called-from [its] resemblance [to the way of those who sell what they themselves produce ]-the part that gives its own commands; and again the art of rearing li.ving beings was detached, which is by no means the smallest part of the art which gives its own commands; and a species of rearing living beings was herd-tending, and a part of this again the herding ot walking animals: and from the herding of walking animals the art of rearing those without horns was cut off; and of this in turn the part called the science of herding animals that mate only with their own kind will have to be intertwined in no less than in a threefold way, if one wants to draw together into one name the very thing we seek; the only further cut, executed on the flock of bipeds, leads to the science at herding human beings, and this is what we were looking for, namely what is called both statesmanship and kingship. Plato makes us understand that all artful act1v1ty has to be governed by the concern for the standard of due measttre, the standard of the right mean. part was fishing, and of fishing half was striking; and of striking half was barb-hunting, and of this the part in which the blow is pulled from below upwards rat an angle J has a name in the very likeness of the art and is called angling, which is at this moment the object of our search. It is assumed in this definition, this de-monstration, that the starting point, the genus "art" is known. Each cut divides the genus in question into two parts. The smnmary lists only the right-hand parts, as it were, and ignores of course the left-hand ones and their possible sub-divisions. The procedure thus delimits what is to be found out, and this is precisely the meaning of the word "definition," so unbelievably familiar to us, namely-delimitation. In the dialogue, this division serves a deeply serious purpose, but we would be singularly blind if we overlooked its playfulness. There is still another awfully important aspect to it which becomes clearer in the first division of the Statesman. IIere the starting point is the family of know]. edges, the genus "knowledge," and that which is being defined, delimited, is "statesmanship." Again "knowledge,'' the starting point, is taken as a genus known. This genus is first divided into two parts: one, detached from all What this delimitation then finally amounts to is the statement that statesmanship is the "science of herding human beings/' which in Greek is only one word ( UvOpw7r0110fW<0) · It turns out, as we see, that the way of reaching this result is far from precise. We do actually see that, in delimitations, precision may overreach itself. The explicit delimitation, to which the summary I just quoted refers, makes this even clearer. On the other hand, the subsequent discussion of the delimitation of statesmanship reveals that it not only overreached itself, but also neglected to separate statesmanship from other arts and activities which compete with it in the herding and nurturing of human beings. The delimitation proves to be not only excessive, but also deficient. The lesson Aristotle (and perhaps other people in the Academy) drew from these blemishes of divisional definition was to limit it to the closest family, the nearest genus, and to add to it the unique feature which, within this genus, characterizes the thing sought. This remained the classical wdy of defining for centuries to come, of defining by the nearest genus and the specific difference (per genus proximum et diflerent.ian1 specificam). Aristotle cut the delimitation short, and the etymology of the 8 267 A-C 5 �The College Latin word praeclSlo reflects this short-cut. 9 We should not forget that in crucial cases Aristotle does not stick to this pattern at all. And Plato himself has his own way of coping with the task of delimitation. Let me try to pursue Plato's own path or rather paths. Let us note, first of all, that both in the Sophist and in the Statesman the delimitation procedure is taken to be unaffected by the dignity or meanness of the genera it happens to descend on. The art of generalship and the art of louse-catching are equally well suited to belong to the genus "hunting"'; 10 kingship and swineherdship are on par 11 as sub-genera of the genus "art of herding animals that mate only with their own kind." The delimitation procedure "pays no more heed to the noble than to the ignoble, and no less honor to the small than to the grcat." 12 It does not prefer the king Odysseus to the swineherd Eumaeus. It is in this "neutrality" that the possibility of excess or deficiency in the procedure of delimitation appears to be rooted. Now, in pointing to this possibility of both excess and deficiency Plato makes us understand that all artful activity has to be governed by the concern for the standard of due measure, the standard of the right mean. This concern is actually kept alive by a power that man-and perhaps only man-possesses, namely the power of making comparisons. It is in comparing-and only in comparing-that we may find different degrees of size, or of weight, or of beauty, or of worth. It is comparing that lets us see something as "better" or "worse" than something else, that makes us discern the noble from the ignoble, the impeccable from the faulty. To live up to the standard of due measure we have to refine our comparing power: we have to learn from "examples." To cope with the danger of excess or deficiency in the delimitation procedure we have to turn to an "example.'' 13 This is what happens in the dialogue the Statesman. But before this happens the very meaning of "example" is subjected to a close scrutiny. Example, as the Greek word 7rapU0£~Yf!a implies, is something shown alongside of the thing we want to grasp. To use an example is to be engaged not in rbroOwwVvat, in ''showing down from. . .," but · in trapa3nKvVvat, in "showing alongside of...." This kind of showing mn elucidate the thing we are after only if there is some resemblance between this thing and the example used. To avoid excess or deficiency in the delimitation procedure, this procedure must, then, be supplemented by the use of examples, based on resemblances. It is thus that the ambiguity of the word ,roo~ finds its ultimate justification: both the what and the looks of the thing in question become apparent. And it + cad a = 9 Pmc 1o Sopll. pmccido 227B n Statesman 266C 12 Ibid., 266D 13 Exemplum (from eximo): something chosen out of an assemblage of similar things 6 is thus that out of "delimitations" and "examples" -or, as we could say, though perhaps kss precisely, out of definitions and comparisons-the web of learning can be woven. To rely on examples alone, that is, on nothing but resemblances (as Speusippos seems to have been inclined to do) is dangerous: a marine polyp resembles an oak and could be used as an "example," but not much would be gained by this. And let us not forget: in the dialogue the Statesman the Stranger asserts that there are no examples for the most important cases, that is, on the highest level of intellectual scrutiny.'' What examples have to provide, according to Plato, are safeguards against the dangers of excess and deficiency inherent in the pursuit of precision. They have to lead us to what must be the ultimate guiding light in the effort of delimitation. This light is that wl1icl1 is precise in itself, as it is said in the Statesman pointedly and yet obscurely." It would follow that the pursuit of precision which is required to answer the Socratic question has the "precise itself" (aDro raKp,f3i,) as its beginning and its end. Isn't this mockery! some of you may be tempted to exclaim. What is this "precise itself"? Let me try to answer this question. There are quite a few hints in Plato's dialogues and also explicit statements on Aristotle's part, when he refers to Plato's intimate views, which allow me to do that. The ~~precise itself" is oneness itself, is the One, not one thing or one unit among many things or many units which, when gathered together, form a number of things or a number of units, but that which makes any one thing or any unit one, which puts on any one thing the stamp of its sameness, without which neither a world, nor think~ ing, nor speaking, nor learning, nor precision would be possible at all. It is, by the same token, that which I hesitatingly called a short while ago the all-comprehensive final stage to be reached when, facing a thing, we try to answer the Socratic question "what is it?" Being all-com~ prehensive, it is self-sufficient, perfect. Plato calls it the Good itself. The "precise itself" is the "good itself" beckoning to the cognizing soul. The pursuit of precision leads to the Good. Still, the uncertainty remains: can it be reached? We tend to assume that it can not. More than that: that it ought not to be reached. When I say "we tend to assume," I do not mean that, traveling the path I have just indicated, we may arrive at this melancholy conclusion. I do mean that to insist on precision, to persist in being precise, shows, often enough, lack of good manners, is offensive and ruins social intercourse. Does not this insistence lead to quibbling, a word derived from the formalistic precision in legal documents? Does not a pronounced and rigidly maintained tidiness in our living quarters stifle the spirit of a party? Let us hear Plato himself. In the 14 15 285D-286A 284D �October 1971 Gorgias 10 he makes Socrates report the opinions of some well-bred and sophisticated young men to the effect that one should not be eager to be minutely precise in the pursuit of wisdom. In the Thcactctus 17 Socrates says: "the avoidance of strict precision is in general a sign of good breeding; indeed, the opposite is hardly worthy of a gent1eman, 11 but Socrates adds: ((sometimes though it is necessary." Wherein lies the necessity? The Platonic answer to this question runs against the most cherished and most deeply seated habit of our thinking, not only in our age, but at all times. \Ve are inclined to think that things just are as they are; to attribute goodness or badness to It would follow that the pursuit of precision which is required to answer the Socratic question has the "precise itself" (avr6 rlixp,f3£,) as its beginning and its end. their factual existence is to make "value judgments," as we say cheerfully and with conviction. Such attribution is rooted, we think, in our prejudices, in our being conditioned by the prevailing circumstances, in our "culture," as we say no less glibly, perhaps in our gregariousness, perhaps in divine commandments. The Platonic answer is that the very being of things depends on Goodness, and that this alone makes the pursuit of precision possible and necessary. But enough of Plato and his kin. Why bring up this old, old wisdom, this alleged wisdom, some of you might have been thinking all along. Did I not say in the beginning that the world in which we live is full of something like precision? Are not our lives regulated to an immense extent by schedules which depend on the ever-abiding motion of the hand of a clock? Do not the marching of drum majorettes and the twirling of their batons seem to some ridiculously and to some pleasantly precise? Is not the step of soldiers-in peace time at least-impressively precise? But more than that: some of our joys and deep satisfactions depend on precision. It is my guess that a piece of music is the more excellent the more precisely it is constructed. The lasting impact of a poem is tied to 487C '' 184C 16 its precision. I do not refer to meter and rhyme. In a poem that deserves this name, no word or, to be very cautious, almost no word, both in meaning and sound, can be replaced by another word; the sequence of words and lines is unalterable; any one line wins its significance only from the context of the whole. And something analogous holds for great works of prose. Do we not know that everything in good writing depends on how precisely the words we usc are chosen? Flaubert, we have heard, spent sometimes one week to complete one page. He is one of those who are overwhelmed by the insight that what matters is to know not only what to say, but also how to say it. In all of these cases, we see, or in almost all of them, precision evokes praise. This precision does not imply all-comprehensiveness. It implies either regularity or the exclusion of alternatives. But what about our knowledge of the world? What is striking, first of all, is that we use mostly another word for this knowledge, the word ''science." "Science" is derived directly from the Latin scientia which can only be translated by "knowledge." Yet, in common usage, we distinguish knowledge and science. Sometimes we say, redundantly, it seems: scientific knowledge. Occasiomlly we identify knowledge and science, as I have done in naming a sub-genus in the delimitation of "statesmanship." There is the verb "to know," a cognate of the noun "knowledge," but there is no English verb corresponding to the noun "science." Is all this a matter of chance, or does it have a good reason? It has, and this reason is not beyond our reach, although we are not always aware of it. Let me state it in the simplest way. The center-piece of science, mathematical physics, this colossal edifice which has been built in the last four hundred years, has-on the whole-abandoned the Socratic question "what is it?" in favor of the question "how does it happen?" And the answers that it gives are indispensably mathematical. The image of edifice is not quite appropriate. Science is like a very large city with many suburbs and parks, wide avenues and many smaller streets, with huge traffic in them, not too well regulated, and a massive down-town section consisting of quite a few blocks which are constantly renovated. This down-town section corresponds to mathematical physics. We all live in this city or in its suburbs and, although we might not be close enough to the downtown area, we all get our sustenance from it. It shapes our way of thinking and our way of living. The country-side around the city, on the other hand, corresponds to the vast complex of "social sciences" and to the domain called the "humanities"-a strange word, as if the life in the city itself were not a human life. Now, the down-town area, mathematical physics, thrives on exactitude, that very exactitude I talked about at the beginning of this lecture. It is bent on matching the consequences derived mathematically from hypotheses with observations dictated by these hypotheses. The endeavor to accomplish such a matching is called an experiment. The mathematical de- 7 �- - - - - ------ The College rivation by means of differential equations or other equating devices is exact. Only slightly less exact or, as we usually say, precise or accurate are the experimental measurements made to verify the mathematical results and thereby the hypotheses. These measurements, in turn, depend on the efficacy, precision, or exactness of the instruments used. Precision and exactitude arc indistinguishable in this context. We speak of instruments of precision to indicate that the results obtained by using them in observations are as exact as possible, that is, yield, on the average, numbers irreplaceable by others. Whatever mathematical operations and experimental observations might be performed, they have nothing to do with anything that could be called goodness or badness, the dignity or baseness of the events considered. Science is totally neutral with regard to worth or worthlessness. It is proud of this neutrality. We are reminded of the provisional neutrality of the Academic delimitation procedure. The scientific neutrality, however, is not provisional, but final. It is only its exactitude itself, the perfect matching of mathematically obtained results with the observable data, that science considers praiseworthy. This matching provides the answers to the question "how does it happen?" It is the light that shines over the city I have just described. It is the peculiar-and intrinsically incomprehensi,b1e-''mora1ity" of science. This has ever been so since Galileo established that in a motion, which proceeds with a uniformly accelerated velocity, the distances traversed are as the squares of the times in which these distances are traversed. The Socratic question "what is it?" lurks, as it were, behind the bright light of exactitude. But mathematical physics docs not presume to answer this question. It is not its business to say what, for example, gravitation, or electro-magnetism, or energy is, except by establishing in a symbolic-mathematical formula the relations that bind these entities (if it is at all permissible to usc this word) to observable and mathematically describable magnitudes. To try to state what something is otherwise we consider a vain "metaphysical" endeavor, to use a post-Aristotelian term. We arc still in need of "definitions" in ·our quest of knowledge, but their character is very different. A definition is now either a readily acceptable description of the meaning of a term, to which we are asked to subscribe, or a statement used as an irreducible element in a subsequent mathematical exposition. However important the role of such definitions may be, it is subsidiary. A modern book on precise thinking need not mention the term "definition" at all_1 8 The truly amazing intellectual effort that underlies our science cannot be disregarded for a single moment. It is one of the greatest achievements of man. It is the very foundation of the city in which we live, the city of science, the source of genetics, of electronic computers, of nuclear fission and ·fusion,-the source of technocracy. It is our 18 8 E.g. Quine, Methods of Logic duty, I think, to acknowledge this fundamental fact and to try to understand its meaning. The more so, since in the country-side surrounding our city, in the region of the humanities and social sciences, and in the region of politics as well, the light of exactitude or, if you like, of precision tends to dim. Let me give you two random examples of the dimness of this light, and I readily confess to being unfair by quoting out of context. Example one from a book on "personality": Personality may be defined as that which tells what a man will do when placed in a given situation. This statement can be formulated: R= f(S.P) which says that R, the nature and magnitude of a person's behavioral response, i.e. what he says, thinks, or does, is some function of the S, the stimulus situation in which he is placed, and of P, the nature of his personality. For the moment, we do not attempt to say precisely what f, the function, is. That is something to be found by research. Example two from a book on sociology: falling in love is a universal psycho-dynamic potential in the human being. Most human beings in all societies are capable of it. It is not. .. [as another scholar says] a psychological abnormality about as common as epilepsy.... Far from being uncommon, ... love relationships are a basis of the final choice of mate among a large minority of the societies of the earth. If all this is so ... how is the love relationship handled? As can be seen, this problem is derived from the problem discussed earlier, the relation of structural variables to the functions of socialization and social control. That's what I meant by the dimming of the light of exactitude in the country-side around our city of science. Beyond this, exactitude, the rule of the clock, of schedules, of tidiness, of squareness in our world today begins to produce waves of revulsion. You probably know this better than I do. But the remedy for this disease of exactitude is not rebellion, or vagueness, or wildneSs, or love of flowers. It is the pursuit of precision in our speaking and thinking and acting. It is the concern about the "precise itself." Jacob Klein has been a Tutor at St. John's Co1Jege, 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 Matl1ematical Thought and the Origin at Algebra (translated from the German), Massachusetts Institute of Tech· no1ogy Press, 1968; and A Commentary on Plato's Meno, University of North Carolina Press, 1965. His "Introduction to b-ristotle" may be found in Ancients and Moderns, Basic Books, 1964. �The Report of the President 1971 1970 ><-··-·----------------··-·>: 1 AND MAY IT BE ENACTED, by the King's 1 l most excellent majesty, by and with the advice, prayer and consent of this present General As~ sembly, and the authority of the same, That for the propagation of the gospel, and the education of the youth of this province in good letters and manners, that a certain place or places, for a free-school, or place of study of Latin, Greek, writing, and the like, consisting of one master, one usher, and one writing-master, or scribe, to a school, and one hundred scholars, more or less, according to the ability of the said free-school, may be made, erected, founded, propagated and established under your royal patronage. And that the most reverend father in God, Thomas, by Divine Providence lord-archbishop of Canterbury, primate and metropolitan of all England, may be chancellor of the said school; and that, to perpetuate the memory of your majesty, it may be called King William's Schoole, and inanaged by certain trustees, nominated, and appointed by your sacred majesty. _,.,_,_,,___ by the General Assembly to St. John's College. To celebrate this major anniversary in the life of the College, special events have been planned on both campuses. The first was a joint summer celebration with the Santa Fe Opera in early August, with Mark Van Doren as the speaker. The principal celebration in Annapolis will be five days of concerts, seminars, and panels, commencing October 12th and culminating in a formal convocation October 16th, to be addressed by Martin Meyerson, President of the University of Pennsylvania. In December the Santa Fe carnpus will be the scene of the dedication of the Tower Building. Other special events are scheduled for the year, including lectures on both campuses by Sir Eric Ashby, Master of Clare College and former Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge University. The Provost ~ ~-----------·-"-·" Thus read in part the Petitionary Act passed by the Council of the General Assembly of the Colony of Maryland on July 8, 1696. Addressed to "our Dread Sovereign," King William III, the Act was signed by the Royal Governor, His Excellency Francis Nicholson, and forwarded by him to London. So "King William's Schoole," forerunner of St. John's College, came into being just 275 years ago this year. It was only after the War of Independence that St. John's College was chartered in 1784 and that the property, funds, masters, and students of King William's School were conveyed My report of last year told of the creation of the position of Provost in the latest revision of the College Polity. This new position on the Annapolis campus carries presidential powers, though the incumbent reports to the President rather than to the Board. The aim of this Polity revision was to relieve the President of administrative detail and to assure a greater measure of attention to the developing needs of the Annapolis campus. After extensive search, Paul D. Newland, of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, was appointed first Provost. He assumed his new duties in January. Mr. Newland had had extensive experience in the business world and then had served as Executive Vice President of Franklin and Marshall College. He has already more than justified our confidence in orienting himself within the College and in addressing himself to problems of administration and finance for the Annapolis campus . .In his first report Mr. Newland cites the year just ended as a splendid one from the standpoint of in- 9 �The College struction. A number of Tutors told him that this was their most satisfying year of teaching. In the words of the Dean, "for most of the year almost nothing was happening except students learning and Tutors teach~ ing." During the second semester, however, there seemed to be a degree of complaining about the College. Some students cited the coldness of Tutors, the hypocrisy of grades, and the allegedly unfriendly spirit of the place. Any such complaints bear investigation, but certain facts seem to contradict them. Students did exceptionally wen in their studies: Only four students failed during the first semester; more sophomores than ever were enabled; and an unprecedented number of students are returning this September. For example, the Junior Class of 86 will be the largest in the College's history. Dean Robert Goldwin's Statement of Educational Policy and Program was adopted by the Faculty on both campuses and reported- to the Board. The Statement calls for consideration of the question whether the program now requires too much work of the students. Some claim that students and Tutors are confronted with too much routine study and, therefore, have too little time to think for themselves. During the year ahead inquiry into this question will be pursued. Others matters to which the Provost and the Dean expect to address themselves are improvement of student morale, more vigorous recruitment of new students, and reduction of the overload of work in the Dean's Office. The Dean feels he should be, and hopes he actually can be, "a teacher and studier first, a leader of teachers and students second, and a manager of affairs last." The Vice President On the Santa Fe campus ]. Burchenal Ault of Oyster Bay, New York, was appointed Vice President with overall responsibility for administrative and financial matters. Mr. Ault graduated from Yale University and held two presidencies in business firms. He had also been active in educational and civic affairs: He served on the alumni board at Yale and the alumni fund at Phillips Academy, Andover, and was a trustee of Hofstra University and president of the Pro Arte Symphony Association on Long Island. He assumed his new duties September 1st and has demonstrated a high degree of imaginativeness and initiative ever since. Mr. Ault's interest in music and the fine arts has contributed importantly to making the Santa Fe campus a more exciting place, not only for students and Tutors but also for members of the community. Showings of the thirteen-part film series "Civilisation" were arranged, and Howard Adams, Assistant Administrator of the National Gallery of Art, came to Santa Fe for the open. ing. An "Indian Table" was instituted, bringing Santa Fe residents to the College for a monthly dinner and lectures by authorities on Indian culture, including N. he 10 Scott Momaday who is a Pulitzer Prize novelist. A local radio program called "A College in Action" offered a half-hour weekly discussion by Tutors and students. Popular book-and-author luncheons continued to attract capacity crowds under the auspices of St. John's Library Associates. The Santa Fe, Los Alamos, and Albuquerque Boards of Associates met quarterly and continued to work helpfully for the College's benefit. The Students At commencement exercises on the two campuses, 71 seniors received their Bachelor of Arts degree, 45 of these in Annapolis and 26 in Santa Fe. In addition, eleven Santa Fe seniors and four Annapolis seniors successfully completed their work in August under the three-year transfer plan. This was the first such summer program. It will be repeated next summer, but a decision has already been reached to discontinue the transfer program for the future. The total number of graduates for 197 I, therefore, is 86. Two Watson Traveling Fellowships and one Danforth Fellowship were awarded to Santa Fe seniors, while one Danforth Fellowship and one honorary mention went to Annapolis seniors. Attrition was greatly diminished during the last academic year on the Annapolis campus. Because of the entering February class of 21, more students were registered in June than had started in September. Dean Goldwin believes that a major factor in retention of students has been the fact that poor and uninterested students have been asked to leave. This policy has tended to hold the better students. In Santa Fe, too, there was marked improvement in retention for the -:year, though larger numbers than usual have dropped out at the end of the year. St. John's is not immune to the "estlessness that pervades this college generation. Figures comparing the September and June student enrollments follow: Annapolis Men Sept. june liVomen Sept. June 48 45 8 48 45 16 16 18 16 Freshmen February Class Sophomores Juniors Seniors 69 62 35 36 64 13 59 35 35 Totals 202 206 -130 61 43 33 17 56 40 29 17 154 Grand Totals 356 Total Sept. june 110 51 54 !09 21 !04 51 51 130 332 336 45 35 22 13 40 30 20 12 106 78 30 96 70 49 29 142 115 102 269 244 348 245 232 601 580 117 Santa Fe Freshmen Sophomores Juniors Seniors Totals 55 ,\ �------------ October 1971 After sixteen years as Director of Admissions on the Annapolis campus, James Tolbert has relinquished his administrative responsibilities and returned to full-time teaching as a Tutor. In recognition of his effective and dedicated service, the Faculty passed a formal resolution of commendation. I, too, would record my deep gratitude for his devotion to the College. Michael Ham was appointed to replace Mr. Tolbert. Mr. Ham received an M.S. in mathematics from the University of Iowa in 1968. He has most recently been manager of PLAN Systems Analysis and Programming for the Westinghouse Learning Corporation. The September 1970 freshman class in Annapolis was composed of 117 students from 26 states, the District of Columbia and Puerto Rico. Eighty-four percent ranked in the top or second fifth of their respective classes in secondary school. Five were National Merit scholars, 16 were semifinalists, and eight received letters of commendation. The 23 February freshmen came from nine states, the District of Columbia, British Columbia, and Puerto Rico. Three-quarters ranked in the top or second fifth of their respective graduating classes. Six were National Merit semifinalists and two won letters of commendation. At Santa Fe Gerald Zollars completed his first year as Director of Admissions. The entering class of 106 on the western campus was drawn from 27 states and the District of Columbia. Eighty-eight percent ranked in the top or second fifth of their class in high school. Fifteen were National Merit scholars. An innovation this year was the use of the Educational Opportunity Service of the American College Testing Program. This introduced St. John's College by mail to over 12,000 students whose responses on the ACT examination matched the following criteria: (1)' a considerable interest in writing in high school, (2) a concern about the intellectual atmosphere of the college to be attended, and (3) a major interest in the arts and humanities or indecision as to a major field of study. Results from this program have been inconclusive for this first year, since information about St. John's reacl1ed the students late, after a choice of college had probably already been made. Comparative statistics on admissions for the two campuses show an increasing number of inquiries, but without a proportionate increase in the number of applications: Santa Fe Annapolis 1969-70 1970-71 1969-70 1970-71 ------1,839 3,867 3,383 Inquiries 2.904 208 164 178 Visitors 277 241 211 232 265 Applications !56 182 !58 181 Accepted 50 60 40 59 Rejected 83 80 66 Withdrawn 56 104 108 Deposits Received 125 113 106 106 Enrolled 117 125 Teaching Faculty Again both campuses were inundated with applications for teaching positions. Despite 300 applications submitted at Santa Fe, there was not a significantly larger number of promising candidates, fully qualified to teach in the St. John's program. Nevertheless, three excellent new appointments were made for Santa Fe and one for Annapolis. The Santa Fe appointees are Mrs. Vida Chesnulis Clift, who holds a B.A. from Radcliffe and a Ph.D. from Harvard, and who taught for two years at Boston University; C. Donald Knight, who has a B.A. from Baker University and a master's degree from the University of Toronto, where he was a teaching fellow; and Mrs. Caroline Higgins Richards, a graduate of the University of Colorado, who received a Ph.D. from Stanford University in 1970 and since has been an instructor in the history of Western civilization at Brooklyn College. The only new Annapolis appointment went to John White who was awarded his B.A. at St. John's College in 1965. He holds his M.A. from the New School for Social Research, where he has been teaching. Aaron Kirschbaum, Annapolis Tutor, is moving this fall to the Santa Fe Faculty. Two teaching interns, Mrs. Toni Drew and Mr. Paul Mannick, both of them alumni of the College, were appointed on the Santa Fe campus, thanks to a grant from the Ford Foundation in its Venture Funds programs. Both proved themselves to be promising teachers and valuable members of the Faculty. In reviewing their work, the Instruction Committee recommended that they be reappointed for the coming year and that they be allowed to submit essays in fulfillment of the requirement for the degree of Master of Arts during the coming year. It is hoped that the teaching internship program can be expanded in the future. With regret I report the resignations of two tenure members of the Santa Fe Faculty. Clarence .J. Kramer, who had served as Dean of the Santa Fe Faculty and as Associate Dean of the College for four years from 1964 to 1968, resigned to accept the Deanship of Marlboro College in Vermont. Thomas ]. Slakey, who was first appointed a Tutor on the Annapolis campus in 1959 and who was one of the cadre that launched the western campus in 1964, resigned to accept the position of Vice President for Academic Affairs at St. Mary's College in California. I should like to record the College's debt of gratitude to both men for their service over the years. One of the new Tutors in Annapolis, Brian McGuire, resigned at the end of the first semester and returned to Europe. Four other Tutors completed their appointments and left the College at the end of the academic year: William B. Pitt in Annapolis, and Elizabeth F. Gilbert, John C. Rodgers, and Barnett ]. Sokol on the Santa Fe. campus. 11 �The College The College's generous sabbatical leave policy continues to pay dividends. For more than twenty years the College has made is possible for a Tutor to have a full year away from his teaching responsibilities at full salary. The first such leave is granted after nine years of teaching; subsequent leaves follow six further years of teaching. More recently the College has liberalized this policy to enable Tutors to take early sabbatical leave at a salary proportionate to the number of years served since first appointment or since the last leave. During the year under review four Tutors from Annapolis were on sabbatical leave: 'Samuel S. Kutler, Barbara H. Leonard, Michael S. Littleton, and Elliott Zuckerman; Charles G. Bell and Dean R. Haggard were on sabbatical leave from the Santa Fe campus. Two Tutors from Annapolis were on ordinary leave for the first semester at their request: Mrs. Gisela Berns and Thomas A. McDonald. from other institutions. These were Brother S. Robert Smith, Glenn H. Ballard, and .James Collins from the Integrated Progtam of St. Mary's College of California; A. Lowell Edmunds, Assistant Professor of Classics at Harvard University; Charles E. Butterworth, Associate Professor of Political Science at the University of Maryland; and Norman S. Grabo, Professor of English at the University of California at Berkeley. Once again the Institute received generous support from the National Endowment for the Humanities. There were helpful matching grants for fellowships from the Calritz Foundation of Washington, D. C., the Hoffberger Foundation of Baltimore, Maryland, and the Richardson Fund of New York City. In addition, generous grants for fellowship purposes were received from the Vincent Astor Foundation, the Jac Holzman Foundation, and the Henry Luce Foundation, all of New York City. The Staff Libraries Miss Charlotte Fletcher and Mrs. Alice Whelan, the Librarians on the Annapolis and Santa Fe campuses re~ spectively, report gratifying growth of the College's two collections. Thanks to the enlarged stack space in reconstructed '1\Toodward Hall, the book collection in Annapolis, which had always been held at approximately 50,000 volumes, has now grown to 62,930 volumes. The Santa Fe collection has grown to half its goal of 50,000 volumes, with 23,684 volumes catalogued and another 4,000 volumes in special collections. Completion of the Tower Building in October will enable the Librarian in Santa Fe to consolidate books, records, and tapes in two locations~the present library in the Peterson Student Center and the ground floor of the new building. These expanded facilities will enable the College to make excellent use of the three fine music collections now stored: the Wilhelm Schmidt, the S. Ellsworth Grumman, and the Amelia Elizabeth White collections, all of them recent gifts to the College. GTaduate Institute Robert A. Neidorf was appointed Director of the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education this year, succeeding James Shannon, who resigned to study law at the University of New Iviexico. Under Mr. Neidorf's direction the Institute completed its fifth session this past summer with great success. Enrollment of I 46 teachers and other adults was the largest to date. Eighteen students successfully completed the Graduate Program in the Liberal Arts and were awarded their M.A. degrees. This brings to 57 the total number of degrees awarded since the first class completed the requirements in 1969. There were twenty members of the teaching Faculty. Once again most of the Faculty was drawn from the two St. John's campuses, but there were six Tutors appointed 12 At Annapolis Mrs. Gayle F. Kline was appointed secretary to the Provost in April. Mrs. Ingrid E. Miller replaced Mrs. Amalea Noyes as secretary to the Director of Development in December, and Mrs. Susan Platt's place as secreta1-y in the Admissions Office was filled by Mrs. LaNece P. Lamonte at the start of the year. Mrs. Virginia S. Schenck replaced Mrs. Virginia West as Resident Head in Humphreys Hall. Miss Phyllis Doyle resigned her position as Laboratory Technician at the end of the year to undertake studies at The Johns Hopkins University. At Santa Fe Mrs. Geraldine Foster left the Admissions Office to become seo-etary to the President, succeeding Mrs. Minnie Mae Powell. Ivirs. Esther Lopez moVed into the Treasurer's Office as Cashier, and her place in the Development Office was taken by Mrs. Nicki Gonzales. Miss 1\tfary Lou Neal succeeded Miss Corinne Martinez as Bookkeeper, and Miss Dolores Vigil became secretary in the Buildings and Grounds Office. Mrs. Rebecca Lang was appointed Bookstore Manager, succeeding Charles Webb. Mrs. Ruth Archer replaced Mrs. Linda McCormick as Director of Reader Services in the Library, and the resulting vacancy on the switchboard was filled by Mrs. Dolores Williams. Mrs. Lois Delaney replaced Miss Georgelle Durkin as secretary in the office of the Vice President. The Alumni The revised College Polity provides that the alumni are lile-long members of St. John's College and that the Alumni Association is the formal means by which alumni participate in the life of the College. During the past year the Alumni Association evidenced its active concern for the undergraduates in two ways: a counseling program was undertaken, and three discussion sessions were held~one on graduate schools, one on law as a career, and one on opportunities in government and �October 1971 business. These sessions were well attended by juniors and seniors. A second program sought to involve the alumni more actively in college admissions. Temple G. Porter '62 conceived and published a comprehensive guide to helping alumni volunteers find and recruit able prospective students. A recruitment kit was assembled and is being distributed this summer. At Homecoming in October the alumni elected William R. Tilles '59 as President and Bernard F. Gessner '27 as Executive Vice President. Philip I. Bowman '31 and W. Bernard Fleischmann '50 were reelected to the Board of Visitors and Governors for second threeyear terms. For the first time in the history of the Association, three alumni Awards of Merit were awarded. Recipients so honored were Philip A. Alger '21, Schenectady, New York; General Alfred Houston Noble '17, La Jolla, California; and Luther S. Tall '21, Baltimore, Maryland. The year just ended was marked by the finest record to date in annual giving. Under the chairmanship of Jack L. Carr '50, 880 alumni responded to the appeal of the College and contributed a total of $30,483. In addition, there were 17 gifts from alumni for scholarship endowments totaling $1,375. Including the special gift of Paul Mellon '44, the alumni gave a total of $400,860 to the College during the year. New Construction In October of 1970 a contract was awarded to the firm of Sewell and Stanton, general contractors of Santa Fe, for construction of the Tower Building. This twostory structure will enable the College to house all administrative offices under a single roof and thus free classroom and faculty office space now occupied in Evans Science Laboratory. Furthermore, the basement will provide space for 20,000 volumes so that the Library can relinquish space in the women's dormitory complex and carry on its functions more efficiently. The building is fully funded, thanks to generous grants from the Fleischmann Foundation of Reno, Nevada, the Kresge Foundation of Detroit, Michigan, and the United States Steel Foundation of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, as well as to substantial gifts ·from two Board members-Mrs. Walter Driscoll of Santa Fe, New Mexico, and John D. Murchison of Dallas, Texas. The building will be completed in October and dedicated on December 4, 1971. At Annapolis a change in architects was made for the proposed Harrison Health Center: James Wood Burch of Annapolis, Maryland, replaced R TKL, Inc., of Baltimore, Maryland. Full architectural plans are now being drawn, and it is expected that a contract for this two-story building will be awarded this fall. The site will be between the Carroll Barrister House and Randall Hall. Meanwhile, the College will use the Chancellor Johnson House as a temporary infirmary and nurse's apartment. The College's properties at 5 and 9 St. John's Street are being sold to the State of Maryland as part of the site of the new office building of the House of Delegates. Finances One could hardly overstate the immense material and psychological value of Paul Mellon's superb gift of a million dollars in December. In effect, it rescued the College from mounting indebtedness and assured that both campuses would complete the fiscal year in fully solvent condition. Moreover, it freed the Faculty and the stall from immediate financial worries and gave them new confidence and hope. The gift was divided between the two campuses in accordance with current needs. Annapolis received $354,562 and Santa Fe $651,000. The Treasurer in Annapolis applied $40,000 of this figure to repay a bank loan incurred to air-condition two dormitories, $118,584 to restore the depleted cash revolving fund, and $70,884 to balance the current operating budget. This has left the sum of $124,938 as a reserve for the future. In Santa Fe the fiscal year had begun with a cumulative deficit from the first six years of the new coiiege's life amounting to $143,936. Interest charges proved a heavy drain on the annual budget. Fortunately two special gifts during the early part of the year reduced the deficit to $384,638. Mr. Mellon's generous gift erased this balance and thus made available once again the College's full line of credit at a local bank. The sum of $130,975 of the Mellon gift was used toward current expenditures, so that the Santa Fe campus, too, completed the fiscal year in the black. This has left $135,243 of the Mellon gift as a welcome reserve against future operations. The statements of current revenue and expenditures appended to this report are self-explanatory. It should be noted, however, that actual expenditures on the Santa Fe campus were $1,640,010, some $6,500 under the budgeted estimates of $1,646,539. At Annapolis, too, the actual expenditures of $1,844,196 were well within the budgeted figure of $1,856,282. Steps were taken during the year to place the entire investment portfolio in the hands of T. Rowe Price and Associates. By instruction of the Finance Committee, T. Rowe Price divided the total portfolio into two parts, one with growth as its primary objective, the other with maximum income as its aim. This arrangement was thought to constitute a hedge in investment under the "total yield" concept. The College draws six percent of the market value of the fund for current purposes. A portion of this drawal comes from dividends and interest, the balance from realized gains on the sale of securities. The year just ended has been one of painful adjustment, as the portfolio manager has sold off poorly performing stocks and has made new investments. Losses 13 �The College of $463,503 were taken. Moreover, real estate previously donated to the College was sold at a book loss of $95,843. These transactions reduced the cumulative reservation of profits on the sale of securities from $895,527 to $336,181. Drawals under the "total yield" concept further reduced this balance to $186,385. As of June 30, 1971, the book value of the College's endowment funds stood at $8,333,008, and the market value at $8,541,349. It is significant that for the first time in some years major repayments were made by the Santa Fe campus to the Annapolis endowment fund against the monies advanced to construct the new campus in 1963 and 1964. Gifts totaling $85,375 reduced the balance of the loan to $1,375,625. In addition the sum of $5,000 for debt retirement was raised by the Santa Fe seniors through a benefit showing of Bondarchuk's film, War and Peace. In presenting the gift the seniors said: We have two things in mind in wishing to give this amount toward the repayment 'of the Annapolis endowment debt. 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 discussions, by all members of the College. Money as well as the more magic constituents is needed and nothing can be put toward projects of an academic nature until this debt and the many others are paid. 275th Anniversary Fund In recognition of the two and three-quarters centuries of the life of this institution and in commitment to its program of liberal education, friends of the College are being invited to contribute to the 275th Anniversary Fund. This fund is designed to provide a firm foundation of endowment for both campuses, to meet the immediate needs for new buildings, and to supply operating funds for the three years of the campaign period ending in 1974. The goals established jointly by the Faculty and the Board of Visitors and Governors are $5,000,000 for the Annapolis campus and $10,000,000 for the Santa Fe campus. As the fund is formally opened, I am pleased to report advance gifts and pledges of $1,460,462 for Annapolis and $4,357,723 for Santa Fe. Two notable gifts deserve special citation and acknowledgement: the pledge of a million and a quarter dollars by Mrs. Duane L. Peterson for the Student Center and the gift of a million dollars to erase current indebtedness and to provide operating funds from Paul Mellon, alumnus and honorary co-chairman of the College's National Committee. With challenge gifts of this magnitude, St. John's College 14 can move forward into the campaign period with confidence and enthusiasm. Gifts and Grants The year just ended has been considered a preparatory or preliminary year in the College's 275th Anniversary Fund. Goals for both campuses in the campaign included current operating funds for 1970-71, as well as for the following three years. Gifts and grants received at Annapolis and at Santa Fe over the past year have been credited against the substantial objectives of the 275th Anniversary Fund. I am happy to report that the Annapolis campus received a total of $779,884 in cash from 1,372 donors during the course of the year. Apart from the $354,562 received from Paul Mellon, alumni of the College contributed $46,298, parents of students $3,425, Board members $142,685, corporations $23,405 (including $17,251 through the solicitations of the Association of Independent Colleges in Maryland), foundations $171,848, and Faculty and friends $37,661. These gifts were applied as follows: endowment $267,481, plant $16,674, and current purposes $141,167. There were also gifts in kind, principally books for the library, aggregating $36,535. St. John's College records its deep gratitude to all who have demonstrated their friendship and their confidence through gifts and grants over the past twelve months. I should like to register our particular thanks to Paul Mellon for his munificent gift; to Mrs. Elizabeth Myers Mitchell for $125,000 to establish a landscaping fund in memory of her late mother, Mrs. Kate :Myers; to the Hodson Trust for an unrestricted grant of $40,000; and to the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation for $119,988 for endowment purposes. The Mellon Foundation grant represents the final installment on a matching offer of a million dollars for endowment originally made by Old Dominion Foundation in 1963 and generously extended by the trustees of the new Andrew W. Mellon Foundation. On the Santa Fe campus gifts and grants for the fiscal year aggregated $1,869,210. Apart from the Mellon gift of $651,000, funds were received from the following sources: Board members $649,850, members of the National Committee $21,010, Faculty, staff, and students $15,091, parents of students $5,816, alumni $1,349, corporations $9,870, foundations $423,705, government $52,490, and friends $39,029. These funds were applied as follows: endowment $6,179, construction of the Tower Building $535,684, retirement of the loan from the Annapolis endowment fund $90,375, the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education $126,145, and current purposes $459,527. Again I should like to record the College's gratitude to each donor. The task of underwriting a new college �October 1971 which lacks both alumni and endowment is at best a formidable one. All of us on the Santa Fe campus realize that our friends must demonstrate a special brand of confidence and hope in order to give as generously as they have. Special mention should be made of Mr. Mellon's gift and of the following: $125,000 from the Max C. Fleischmann Foundation of Reno, Nevada, $100,000 from the Kresge Foundation of Detroit, Michigan, $175,000 from John D. Murchison of Dallas, Texas, and $100,000 from Mrs. Walter W. Driscoll of Santa Fe, all toward the cost of the Tower Building, $50,000 from the Ford Foundation, as the initial payment of a threeyear grant in the Foundation's Ventures Fund program; and $85,375 from Mrs. Duane L. Peterson toward retirement of the construction loan on the Student Center. Bequests The Board has already adopted a resolution on the death of Richard Herman Hodgson '06, who served helpfully for many years as a Visitor and Governor of the College. By the terms of Mr. Hodgson's will the sum of $100,000 will be added to the Hodgson Scholarship Endowment. These scholarships are awarded on the basis of character, academic achievement, and promise, with priority accorded applicants from Wicomico County and the Eastern Shore of Maryland. The Hodgson Scholarships are a fitting memorial to one of St. John's outstanding alumni. During the spring Richard Hammond Elliott '17 died following protracted disability. Mr. Elliott had. a long and useful career as editor of the Annapolis Evening Capital. I well recall that he was the first person to interview me after my appointment _to the St. John's presidency in September of 1949. Mr. Elliott's entire estate, amounting to approximately $300,000, comes to St. John's College to endow a tutorship in his name. This constitutes a welcome addition to the College's permanent funds. Finally, let me record Mrs. Weigle's and my gratitude for the leave which the Board granted us this winter and spring so that we could take part in the Danforth Foundation's program of Short-Term Leaves for College and University Administrators. We made three separate trips during the four-month period from mid-January to mid-May. We spent the first five weeks in South Africa, Rhodesia, Tanzania, and Kenya. In South Africa we were afforded the opportunity of visiting a representative number of universities and of conferring with their administrative heads. In March we spent three weeks as members of a traveling seminar to study socialist education in Hungary, Romania, the Soviet Union, and Poland. The third trip took us to England in late April. For a fortnight we lived at Clare Hall in Cambridge, where I was an Honorary Fellow of Clare College. All three of these experiences abroad provided not only a welcome change from our regular routine but interesting new perspectives and insights on education in general. We return to St. John's with renewed faith in the College and its mission. RICHARD D. WEIGLE President September I, 1971 15 �The College ST. JOHN'S Annapolis, Maryland BALANCE SHEETS, ASSETS Annapolis CuRRENT FuNns Unrestricted Cash ................................... Accounts Receivable ..................... Due from SJC-Santa Fe ................. Due from Other Funds ................... Prepaid Expenses ....................... Bookstore Inventory .... , ............... Total Unrestricted Funds ............ $ Santa Fe 5,084 59,718 $ $ 50,987 4,316 17,878 1,503 442 25,514 100,640 Restricted Cash .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. $ Investments ............................. . Loans Receivable ......................... . Total Restricted Funds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $ Total Current Funds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $ 317,331 12,169 840 330,340 430,980 $ 238,505 . . . . . . . 34,956 27,236 23,106 150,100 $ 3,226 . ' ' .... $ 241,731 $ 391,831 LoAN FuNDS Cash .................................... United Student Aid Deposit ............. . National Defense Student Loans .......... . Other Student Loans ..................... . Total Loan Funds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $ 5,893 $ 146,290 2,031 154,214 $ 3,668 1,000 139,782 24,675 $ 169,125 ANNUITY FUNDS Due From Other Funds Total Annuity Fund.s $ 210,910 $ 210,910 $ ENDOWMENT FUNDS Cash ................................... . Accounts and Notes Receivable ........... . Faculty Home Loans ..................... . Loan to Santa Fe Campus ................. . Due from Other Funds .................. . Miscellaneous ........................... . Investments Securities-at Cost ..................... . Mortg-ag-es on Real Property ............ . Total Endowment Funds ........... . $ 231,677 6,759 141,221 1,375,625 911 830 $ 44,000 2,443 ....... ....... ....... 15,596 6,531,773 46,677 $ 8,335,473 $ 62,039 $ $ 91,286 185,000 136,774 ....... PLANT FUNDS Cash .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Investments-Real Estate ................. . Dormitory Trust Fund ................... . Land and Campus Development ........ , .. . Buildings and Improvements .............. . Cons~ruction in Progress ................. . Equipment and Furnishings .............. . Library Books .......................... . Land and Building-s-Other .............. . 64,363 375,677 5,194,326 ....... Total Plant Funds .................. . $ 6,028,587 $6,401,919 Total Funds ........................ . 16 394,221 5,082,804 284,743 436,757 77,452 107,103 $14,949,254 $7,235,824 �October 1971 COLLEGE Santa Fe, New Mexico June 30, 1970 LIABILITIES Annapolis CURRENT FUNDS Unrestricted Accounts Payable ........................ Deferred Income ....................... Due to Other Funds ...................... Due to SJC-Annapolis .................. Reserve for Future Operations ........... Total Unrestricted Funds ............ . . . . . . $ 19,478 67,702 Santa Fe $ $ 13,460 100,640 13,627 93,815 20,512 17,878 4,268 $ 150,100 Restricted Fund Balances $ Due to Other Funds ...................... . Total Restricted Funds .............. . $ Total Current Funds ................ . $ 329,843 497 330,340 430,980 222,740 18,991 $ 241,731 $ 391,831 154,214 $ 156,108 13,017 $ 169,125 LoAN FuNDS Fund Balances Due to Current Funds ................... . Total Loan Funds .................. . $ $ . ..... . 154,214 ANNUITY FUNDS Fund Balances . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Total Annuity Funds ................. . $ $ 210,910 $ 210,910 ENDOWMENT FUNDS . . . . . $ 8,146,627 . . . . . . . $ 5,964,224 62,446 $ 6,028,587 $2,722,836 1,693,000 199,399 1,375,625 136,774 274,285 $6,401,919 Total Funds ........................ . $14,949,254 $7,235,824 Principal ............................... Reservation of Profits-Sale of Securities ... Due to Other Funds ..................... Unexpended Income ..................... Total Endowment Funds . , . , .... , .... $ 61,769 186,381 270 2,465 $ 8,335,473 62,039 PLANT FUNDS Invested in Plant ........................ Federal Dormitory Bonds ................ Due to Other Funds .................... Notes Payable to Annapolis ............. Dormitory Bond Sinking Fund ........... Unexpended ............................ Total Plant Funds ................... 1,917 17 �The College ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE Santa Fe, New Mexico Annapolis, Maryland CONDENSED STATEMENT OF REVENUE AND EXPENDITURES Fiscal Year Ended June 30, 1971 Annapolis Santa Fe . . . . . $ 784,578 $ 625,291 418,754 186,190 87,464 18,242 2,833 644,377 40,713 31,573 Total ................................. . $1,495,228 $1,344,787 REVENUE Educational and General Tuition ................................. Endowment Income ....................... Gifts and Grants ........................ Scholarships .............................. Miscellaneous ............................ Auxiliary Enterprises Bookstore ................................ . Dining Hall ............................. . Dormitories .............................. . $ 47,798 161,390 139,780 $ 33,875 140,260 125,355 Total ................................. . $ 348,968 $ 299,490 Total Revenue $1,844,196 $1,644,277 EXPENDITURES Educational and General Administrative . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $ General .................................. . Instruction ............................... . Graduate Institute ....................... . Student Activities ......................... . Operation and Maintenance ............... . Total .................................. . Miscellaneous Student Financial Aid Federal Programs ......................... . Capital Appropriations ................... . $ 205,283 15,391 332,652 159,586 513,771 117,688 25,667 160,013 $1,473,568 $1,182,008 Auxiliary Enterprises Bookstore . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $ Dining Hall .............................. . Dormitories (Debt Service) ............... . Total ................................. . 191,571 183,392 750,562 46,127 150,259 $ 34,141 103,383 109,302 $ 196,386 $ 246,826 $ 174,242 $ 171,170 17,094 22,912 Total ................................. . $ 174,242 $ 211,176 Total Expenditures .................... . $1,844,196 $1,640,010 Excess Revenue ........................ . 18 $ 4,267 �October 1971 ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE Annapolis, Maryland PERMANENT ENDOWMENT FUNDS-PRINCIPAL AND INCOME June 30, 1971 A. W. Mellon of DonoY Foundation klatching Gift Total Fund Principal .$1,989,!153.37 $ 500,000.00 150,215.75 150,000.00 $2,189,953.37 300,215.75 $2,140,169.12 $ 650,000.00 $2,790,169.12 Gift TUTORSHIP ENDOWMl•:NTS: Addison E. Mullikin, 1895 Arthur de Talma Valk, 1906 SCHOLARSHIP ENDO\".IMENTS: Annapolis Self Help George M. Austin, 1908, Memorial WalterS. Baird, 1930 Chicago Regional Class of 1897 $ Class of 1898 Dr, Charles Cook 15,000.00 25,000.00 2,500.00 3,070.00 8,672. I1 87,933.19 $ :!,070.00 135.00 $ 23,862.59 4,908.54 28.783.25 45,050.08 16,034.00 300,500.00 45,287.10 1,000.00 72,000.00 28,352.94 20,025.00 7,367.00 150,250.00 2,500.00 500.00 36,000.00 4,44.\.00 45,370.00 22,685.00 9,000.00 26,000.00 28,362.47 52,000.00 6,165.00 1,120.00 12,500.00 7,055.56 3,061.00 3,661.00 7,056.20 1,551.91 560.00 3,']-13.00 $ 323,864.00 $ 20,000.00 1,170.00 30,000.00 50,000.00 2,500.00 6,1'10.00 8,672.14 87,933.19 13,705.26 270.00 135.00 2,359.00 26,12'1.25 25,025.08 8,607.00 150,250.00 '12,787.10 500.00 36,000.00 28,352.911 4,445.00 22,685.00 19,362.17 26,000.00 6,165.00 560.00 12,500.00 7,055.56 3,061.00 3,6611.00 3,643.20 1,55!.91 $ 581,715.10 ·I 908,579.10 I 13,862.59 6,378.54 ----- ------- i ALUMNI AND MEMORIAL ENDOWMENTS: Granville Q. Adams, 1929 Charles Edward Athey, 1.Y8l William C. Baxter, 1923 Drew H. Beatty, 1903 Dr. William Brewer, 1823 Frederick VV. Brune, 1874 Benjamin Duvall Chambers, 1905 Henry M. Cooper, Jr., 1934 Walter I. Dawkins, 1880 Robert F. Duer, Jr., 1921 Dr. Philip H. Edwards, 1898 Joseph W. Fastner, Jr., 1960 Allen Lester Fowler, 191.? Edna G. and Roscoe-E. Grove, 1910 Charles W. Hass, 1927 Dr. Amos F. Hutchins, 1906 Clarence T. Johnson, 1909 Clifford L. Johnson, 1911 Helen B. Jones and Robert 0. .Jones, 1916 Jonathan D. Korshin, 1966 Oliver M. Korshin, 1963 Dr. W. Oscar La:tvlotte, 1902 Hi,OOO.OO 25,000.00 13,705.2{) Corp. George E. Cunniff III, 1930 Faculty John T. Harrison, 1907 Hillhouse High School, 1927 Richard H. Hodgson, 1906 Alfred Houston, 1906, Student Aid Houston Regional Jesse H. Jones and Mary Gibbs Jones Robert E. and l'vlargarel Larsh Jones, 1909 Arthur E. and Hilda Combs Landers, 1930 Massachusetts Regional Philip A. Myers II, 1938 Oklahoma Regional Thomas Parran, 1911, Memorial Pittsburgh Regional Readers Digest Foundation Clifton A Roehle Murray Joel Rosenberg Memorial Hazel Norris and]. Graham Shannahan, 1908 Clarence Stryker Friedrich J. Von Schwerdtner STUDENT LOAN FUND ENDUWMENTS: George Friedland John David Pyle, Hl62, Memorial $ 28,771.13 ·I 1,100.00 5,825.00 25.00 500.00 125.00 854.50 2,637.50 1,000.00 $ $ 200.00 125.00 507.00 !,000.00 58,682.82 3,265.00 1,135.44 2,000.00 500.00 16,555.96 10.00 658.18 100.00 100.00 18,357.00 200.00 200.00 5,!10.00 335.00 985.00 500.00 633.00 7,563.00 i 50,241.13 $ 21,470.00 ----- 1,100.00 5,825.00 25.00 700,00 250.00 1,361.50 2,637.50 2,000.00 58,682.82 3,600.00 2,120.44 2,000.00 1,000.00 16,555.96 110.00 1,291.18 100.00 100.00 25,920.00 200.00 200.00 5,140.00 ------- 19 �~ The College 125.00 625.00 1,000.00 23,223.16 1,020.00 5,000.00 325.00 441.50 4,000.00 600.00 12,218.68 100.00 5,0000.00 10,000.00 5,133.34 1,000.00 1,107.00 850.66 502.00 100.00 4,300,50 500.00 28,633.39 3,000.00 2,500.00 125.00 625.00 2,000.00 John H. E. Legg, 1921 William Lentz, 1912 Leola H. and Thomas W. Ligon, 1916 Col. Harrison McAlpine, 1909 James R. McClintock, 1965, Prize Fund Vincent W. McKay, 1946 Robert F. Maddox, 1876 William L. Mayo, 1899 Ridgley P. Melvin, 1899 Wm. S. Morsell, 1922, AthlcLic Fund John Mullan, 1847 Walter C, My lander, Jr., 1932 M. Keith Neville, 1905 Dr. John 0. Neustadt, 1939 Blanchard Ranc\all, 1874 Susan Irene Roberts, 1966 Leroy T. Rohrer, 1903 Harrison Sasscer, 1944 G H, Schoff, 1889 Henry F. Sturdy, 1906 Rev. Enoch M. Thompson, 1895 John Tucker, 1914 Dr. RobertS. G. Welsh, 1913 Dr. \Villis H. White, I 922 Amos W. W. VVomkock, 1903 23,223.16 2,040.00 5,000.00 650.00 441.50 4,000.00 600.00 12,218.68 200,00 10,000.00 20,000.00 5,133.34 2,000.00 1,107.00 1,180.66 502.00 200.00 •1,300.50 1,000.00 28,633.39 6,000.00 2,500.00 250.00 1,250.00 3,000.00 1,020.00 325.00 100.00 5,000.00 10,000,00 1,000.00 330.00 100,00 500.00 3,000.00 $ 231,306.63 OTHER ENDOWMENTS: Hertha S. and Jesse L Adams Concert Fund Alumni Memorial Book Fund Philo Sherman Bennett l'rize Fund Benwood Foundation Library Fund George A. Bingley Memorial Fund Scott Buchanan Memorial Fund Helen C. and George Davidson, Jr., 1916 Fund for Tomorrow Lectureship Floyd Hayden Prize Fund Mary Safford Hoogewerff Memorial Library Fund Library Fund Monterey lVIackey Memorial Fund Emily Boyce Mackubin Fund Ellen C. Murphy tvfemorial Library Fund Kate lVloore Myers Landscaping Fund Henry H. and Cora Dodson Sasscer Newspaper Fund Adolph \V. Schmidt Fund Richard Scofield lviemorial Fund Mrs. Blair T. Scott Memorial Pri7e Fund Kathryn Mylroie Stevens Memorial Prize Fund . Clare Eddy and Eugene V. Thaw, 1947, Lectureship Fund Elma R. and Charles D. Todd Memorial Library Fund Clara B. \.Yeiglc Memorial Library Fund Daniel E. Weigle and Jessie N. Weigle Memorial Fund The Jack Wilen Foundation Library Fund in Memory of Murray Joel Rosenberg Victor Zuckerkandl J\llcmorial Fund Alumni Endowment General Endowment $ 31,973.00 $ 266,279.63 60,000.00 $ 60,000,00 $ 120,000.00 ·I 355.00 308.ll 25,000.00 14,897.00 5,770.00 20,025.00 3,000.00 77.50 25,000.00 3,000.00 25.00 31,683.07 560.00 400.00 75,192A3 1,500,00 124,349.36 400.00 1,500.00 355.00 308.ll 50,000.00 1'1,897.00 5, 770.00 20,025.00 6,000.00 102.50 31,683.07 960.00 400.00 75,192.43 3,000.00 121,349.36 1,500.00 15,627.86 895.00 517.95 1,250.00 1,500.00 15,627.86 895.00 517.95 1,250.00 900.00 900.00 19,500.00 1,195.75 19,500.00 39,000.00 1,195.75 2,500.00 2,500.00 1,000.00 19,325.19 205,270.2 I 523,179.04 1,000.00 19,325.19 391,579.21 523,179.04 $1,155,778.'17 186,309.-00 ------$ 295,734.00 $1,451,512.47 ------ Andrew \.Y. Mellon Foundation Grants Not Applied to Named Funds .$ $2,679,845.67 $2,679,845.67 Reservation of ProfitsSale o£ Securities $ 186,380.89 .$ $ 186,380.89 $4,327,121.31 $4,005,886.67 .$8,333,008.01 Total Endowment Principal 20 �NEWS ON THE CAMPUSES CALIFORNIA CoLLEGE MoDELED oN ST. JoHN's St. John's has received news that its educational program has been adopted by St. Thomas Aquinas College, a new school in Calahasas 7 California. "Unabashedly Catholic," the college will be staffed by laymen and is mod· cled on the "Great Books Liberal Arts" program. Located on a 200-acre campus near Malibu, the college will feature a curriculum emphasizing the ''classical ideal" of educating its students to the "integrative" thinkers \vith "relentless logic and absolute dedication to the truth," according to the August 8th issue of Twin Circle published by the National Catholic Press. The founder and president of the new college is Dr. Donald P. McArthur, a graduate of St. Mary's College in California who received his Ph.D. degree at the Pontifical University at Quebec. Twin Circle notes the St. John's program has enjoyed ''stunning sue~ cess" since its introduction. COLLEGE AWARDS DEGREES TO FIRST SUMMER GRADUATING CLASS The first summer class to graduate from St. John's College received B.A. degrees at Santa Fe on August 18th: Douglas Cotler, Stephen R. Deluca, Twyla Fort Deluca, Cleo Fowler, Bruce F. Glaspell, Jan Goodman, Marc Haynes, Lewis M. Johnson, Lynda Jean Lamson Johnson, Patrick E" Porter and Gretchen Vadnais. These eleven students participated in a special program for students transferring to St. John's with credits from other· institutions of higher learning. They were able to complete their work for a degree in three regular school yeaiS 7 plus the summer course, which included writing of an essay and oral examination on it. President Richard D. Weigle presided at the informal commencement program. He was assisted in the graduation exercises held in the Junior Common of the Peterson Student Center by Tutor David Jones, who headed the summer studies. ginia; and Frances T. Zender, Illinois. The Institute offers four eight-week courses of study: Politics and Society, Philosophy and Theology, Mathematics and Natural Science, and Literature. Completion of all four (or any three if nine hours of transfer credit are submitted) leads to the degree of Master of Arts. GRADUATE INSTITUTE COMPLETES SUCCESSFUL SUMMER Recently the City Council of Annapolis unanimously voted to expand the boundaries of the Annapolis Historic District to include St. John's College and additional areas within the old city. One of the new boundaries extends from the city to College Creek, the northwest portion of the 36 acre campus. Last December the Board of Visitors and Governors unanimously agreed- to approve the inclusion of the College in the District after the Annapolis Faculty Campus Development Committee recommended the action. The expansion of the District was made to assure the preservation of the historic atmosphere of a wider area of the old city. One disadvantage to the College would be the requirement that all architectural plans for new buildings or for renovation of old buildings would have to be approved by the Historic District Commission. On the positive side, it would seem inclusion in the District, which is reg~ istered in Washington, D.C., would help to assure the long-term future of the College from any possible incursions by outside organizations. The College is already included in a National Historic District, designated by the federal government. The summer Graduate Institute in Liberal Education enrolled a record total of 140 this year and awarded Master of Arts' degrees to eighteen students from five states and the District of Columbia. It was the fifth summer on the Santa Fe campus for the advanced studies program based on readings in the major works of Western thought. Robert Neidorf, a Tutor at St. John's College, is Director of the Graduate Institute. 'T'hc commencement speaker was James P. Shannon, who directed the Institute in 1969-70 and is now a student in the School of Law at the University of New Mexico. Members of this year's graduating class, the third since the Institute was started in 1967, included: New Mexico-Lucy MacGillivray Dix, Susan Kinslow, Betty Ann Milligan, Mary Navratil, Eleanor Bramlett Ortiz, Bruce Rolstad and Herbert Weinstein, all of Santa Fe; Maryland-Bela Kissh, Alice F. Kurs, Paul M. Blackwell, Cecilia JVI. Holtman and Mary P. Justice; VVashington, D.C.-Juanita Goodson Allen, Edna F. Frye and Lovie W. Ward; other states-Debbe R. Goldberg, Ohio; Jane G. Lemmond, Vir- ST. JOHN'S IN ANNAPOLIS INCLUDED IN HISTORIC DISTRICT 21 �The College MARK VAN DoREN WRITES SPECIAL POEM FOR ST. JoHN'S 275TH ANNIVERSARY OBSERVANCE lVIark Van Doren, one of America's most distinguished men of letters, gave the main address at the August 8th Anniversary celebration in Santa Fe. Mr. Van Doren has written numerous poems, plays, novels, short stories and books of literary criticism. He received the Pulitzer Prize in 1940 for his Collected Poems. He was a professor of English at Columbia University for almost 40 years and is a mcm bcr of the American Academy of Arts and Letters. The Autobiography of Mark Van Doren was pu blishcd in 19 58 and 1968. President vVeiglc, in introducing ~ him, cited Mr. Van Doren's book Lib- ~ eral Education as a major factor in Mr. ~ Weigle's decision to accept the presi- ~ dency of St. John's in 1949. ~ ''St. John's College more than sur- 2 vives, it flourishes," !vir. Van Doren The poet and the Governor-Mark Van Doren and Druce King, Ne\V J-..rJexico's chief executive·said in preface to his speech entitled at the ''Summer Celebration" in Santa Fe, August 8th. "How to Praise a World That May Not Last?" He said Dean Darkey had Place so ermvdcd with his creaturespaintings at T'yson's Corner, Virginia; suggested he might wish to speak on \Vith us all----{)h, praise the time a one-man show at St. John's; and a That's left, ·praise here and now, praise the act and the art of praise. Master Thesis show at the University Him that by his own sweet will "I said yes, of course, I would come May suddenly remake the world of Maryland. Her works have been and talk about praise. And I would Forever, ever, ever, ever. in sales and rental galleries of the Baleven do some praising. I would not timore Museum of Art and the Corpraise this or that thing, this or that ANNAPOLIS APPOINTS coran ~~Iuseum of Art in Washington, person. I would praise everything and D.C. New ARTIST-IN-RESIDENCE everybody. I would have the nerve to In 1965 she won second prize in the praise the world." JVIrs. ~~Iichon Semon, a former grad~ Advanced Art Student Competition at During his remarks, he quoted three nate assistant at the University of the University of South Florida, and of his poems and he closed \vith one Maryland in College Park, has been third prize in 1966 at the Annual Sidewritten especially for the occasion: appointed Artist-in-Residence for the walk Art Festival in Orlando. Her Annapolis campus for 1971-72. works were exhibited in the 1966 Area A native of Portland, Oregon, Mrs. Show of University Teachers and IIow praise a 1vorld that will not be Forever? Stillness then. Time Semon lives in Laurel, Maryland. She Pupils in Clearwater, Florida, as well. Sleeping, never to wake. No prince's received her B.A. degree in fine arts in Kiss. No prince. Praise? E\'en 1966 from the University of South SANTA FE RECEIVES GIFT FROM 'l'he echo of it dies, even Florida in Tampa, and her M.A. degree Memory, in the last brain ARTHUR VINING DAVIS in fine arts in 1970 from the University That lm·ed it, withers away, and in mind FouNDATION Not even dozes, being done of Maryland. \Vith work that mattered not at all. In 1960 Mrs. Semon taught a sumSt. John's in Santa Fe has received a IIow then praise nothing? mer recreation program in the fine arts grant of $75,000 from the Arthur VinYet that day at an Episcopal summer camp in ing Davis Foundation of Miami, FloriI las ncYer dawned. Here is the world Florida, and in 1969 an adult recreation da. The contribution to the general So beautiful, being old, so class for Prince Georges County in support of the College will be made :rviindftil of its maker-what Maryland. in three payments: $35,000 this year, Of him when that day comes-you say In 1970-71 her exhibitions included $25,000 in 1972, and $15,000 in 1973. It mnst-vvhat then of him, and of this 24 �October l 971 admitted to St. John's on the basis of NEW APPLICATION PoLICY AT ST. JOHN'S their own qualifications, not by com- parison with other applicants. There- The College recently adopted radically new application procedures: it fore, it would be unfair, and even asks for no irrelevant information and come, first-served basis." pointless, not to admit them on a first- requires no application fee. Admissions Director in Annapolis, Michael W. Ham, Class of 1961, stated in the announcement that "we admit persons, not collections of numbers and statistics. Therefore, we try to give the applicant a chance to tell us of his judgments and his values." All of the traditional but non-pertinent requests-for the applicant's height, weight, age; for the names of the other colleges to which he has applied, and whether he was accepted or rejected; for the parents' name, oc~ cupations, college background-all are gone. Instead the applicant supplies no demographic data beyond his or her name, address, and telephone number. The rest of the application consists of answers to searching questions on the applicant's evaluation of his education, his non-school experience, his experi- ence with books, and his plans for his education and his life. Mr. Ham and Mr. Gerald F. Zollars, Class of 1965 and Admissions Director in Santa Fe, recently revised the entire application form. The College has also discontinued the application fee, the non-refundable, non-applicable charge of $10-25 that must accompany applications to almost every college in the United States. "There is no . reason/' added Mr. Ham, "why an applicant should have to pay in order to find out if he is acceptable as a student at St. John's. The six to ten pages of essay writing that are usually written in answering our questions-and I have seen applications much longer-eliminate frivolous applications." St. John's will continue its policy of rolling admissions, in which an application is acted upon as soon as it is completed, and the applicant is notified immediately of the decision. Mr. Paul D. Newland, Provost in Annapolis, noted that "students are SANTA FE AssociATES VISIT SEMINARS Members of the Boards of Associates for St. John's in Santa Fe gather at the College from time to time to hear reports on its progress and to meet students, Tutors and officers. The Associates are friends of the College in Santa Fe, Los Alamos and Albuquerque who help interpret St. John's to their communities. In September they were invited to have dinner in the student dining hall and visit seminars to see how they are conducted. In July the Associates met at the Peterson Student Center for dinner and to hear and see a report from President and Mrs. Weigle on their recent travels in Africa, Russia and England. Although not a fund-raising group, the Associates contributed nearly $500 to help pay Commencement Ball expenses as their gift to the senior class. Mr. A. J. Taylor is the FIVE TUTORS JoiN SANTA FE FACULTY Five Tutors joined the Santa Fe Faculty this fall, including one who transferred from Annapolis-Mr. Aaron Kirschbaum. Mrs. Vida Chcsnulis Clift received her B.A. degree magna cum laude from Radcliffe, her M.A. degree from Berkeley and her Ph.D. degree from Harvard where she has taught English, composition and narrative fiction. Mrs. Carolyn Higgins Richards graduated summa cum laude from the Uni- versity of Colorado and won Phi Beta Kappa honors. She received her M.A. and Ph.D. degrees in history from Stanford University. She was an instructor in the history of Western civilization at Brooklyn College and taught English and history at Santiago (Chile) College, where she also was an assistant to the Dean of Studies. Mr. Allan Pearson received an A.B. degree from Boston College and an A.M. degree from Boston University. He attended the University of Munich on a German government grant in 1964-65. He taught German language and literature at Berkeley and was a lecturer in German language, literature chairman of the Santa Fe Associates, and culture at the University of Cal- and he has been very active in efforts to help strengthen College-community relationships. ifornia at Riverside. MRS. NEIDORF PRESENTS CONCERT Mezzo-soprano Mary Neidorf and pianist Gillian McHugh presented a concert August 3rd in the Peterson Student Center at Santa Fe. Mrs. Neidorf is the wife of Robert Ncidorf, St. John's Tutor and director of the Graduate Institute in Liberal Education. Mrs. Ncidorf has sung in numerous oratorios, operas, and musical com- edies. Mrs. McHugh is a graduate of the Royal Academy of Music in London, England. She was three times winner of the Bach piano contests of Western England and various open piano competitions. She was a soloist last spring with the St .. John's College Chamber Orchestra. Mr. C. Donald Knight is a graduate of Baker University, Kansas, and he received his M.A. degree from the University of Toronto (Canada) where he was a Teaching Fellow in moral philosophy and also participated in an experimental high school. He was a Fulbright Scholar at Annamalai University in India. TUTOR NAMED VICE PRESIDENT AT SAINT MARY'S Mr. Thomas J. Slakey resigned as Tutor at St. John's in Santa Fe this summer to accept an appointment as academic vice president of Saint Mary's College of California. A magna cum laude graduate of Saint Mary's in 1952, Mr. Slakcy was affiliated with St. John's for eleven years, joining the faculty in Annapolis in 19 59 and moving to .the ·new campus at Santa Fe in 1964. 25 �The College Minnesota in 1959. Upon his graduation he received fellowships from the Danforth, National Science, and Woodrow Wilson Foundations. He is married to the former Elizabeth Stoltz of Minnesota and they have five children. Nominations for the Outstanding Educators of America awards program arc made by officials of colleges and universities including presidents, deans, and other faculty members. Guidelines for the selection include an educator's talents in the classroom, contribtJ.tions to research, administrative abilities, civic se1vice, and professional recognition. THREE FULL SCHOLARSHIPS AWARDED TO FRESHMEN OF INDIAN AND HISPANIC DESCENT Annapolis Tutor Robert L. Spaeth (left) is interviewed by Paul F. Rhetts, Producer, Public Affairs, Maryland Center for Public Broadcasting, on a television program, "Crosstalk," which was broadcast on Channels 67 and 28. TUTOR CHOSEN OUTSTANDING EDUCATOR Robert L. Spaeth, a Tutor in Annapolis, has been chosen an Outstanding Educator of America for 1971. Nominated earlier this year, he was selected for the honor on the basis of his civic and professional achievements. Outstanding· Educators of America is an annual awards program honoring distinguishcd.men and women for their exceptional service, achievements, and leadership in the fi'ld of education. Annapolis Dean Robert A. Goldwin was named an Outstanding Educator in 1970. Newspaper accounts of Mr. Spaeth's honor led to a television interview on "Crosstalk," a program designed espe~ cially for educators who have interesting sidelights. A conversation with Mr. Spaeth covering St. John's College in detail was broadcast three times in September on Channel 67, WMPB, 26 in the Baltin1ore area, and on Channel 28, WCPB, on Maryland's Eastern Shore. A member of the College Faculty since 1963, Mr. Spaeth served as an Assistant Dean from 1966 to 1971. He was Director of the Summer Program in Annapolis in 1969 and 1970. In 1969 Mr. Spaeth was elected an alderman from the Third Ward of the City of Annapolis, and in 1970 he was elected to the Anne Arundel County Democratic State Central Committee. He is a member of the City-County Joint Committee on the Property Tax Differential and a Commissioner on the Urban Renewal Authority. He is chairman of the Housing Committee of the City Council. Last summer he was at the Urban Institute in Washington, D.C., doing research on the economic impact of airport noise. The Tutor is a native of St. Cloud, Minnesota, and a s·umma cum laude graduate of St. John's University in St. John's in Santa Fe awarded three full scholarships funded by the Noyes Foundation to freshmen of American Indian and Hispanic descent: Anna Dean Arcvalos, Fowler, Colorado; Ernest A. Torres, Farmington, New Mexico; and Cynthia E. Williams of Santa Fe. This is the first year these scholarships have been available. They cover full tuition, room and board fees, and a campus job. INDIAN LEADERS ADDRESS MoNTHLY MEETINGS AT SANTA FE The monthly series of dinner meetings in Santa Fe called "The Indian Table" has lined up a full schedule of speakers on politics, education and the arts for 1971-72. They include, among others, Governor Robert Lewis of the Zuni Pueblo, Chairman Benny Atencio of the All-Indian Pueblo Council, and Fritz Scholder, well-known artist. Attendance is by invitation and around 30 townspeople, students and Tutors regularly participate in the lectures and discussions to be held on the third Tuesday of each month during the school year, except for December and March. �ALUMNI ACTIVITIES PROFILE In the year in which St. John's celebrates the founding of King William's School, it seems appropriate that we publish the profile of an alumnus who is vitally concerned with matters of historical record. In so doing we are also featuring the first pre-1937 graduate to appear in this series. Gust Skordas was born in Washington, D.C., was raised in Virginia, and moved to Annapolis in 1928. Two years later, after graduation from Annapolis High School, he entered St. John's College. Mr. Skordas majored in economics, and received his B.A. degree in 1934. In a recent interview he spoke fondly of Greek classes with John Kieffer, freshman English with the late Richard Scofield, and English with Ford K. Brown. While at St. John's Mr. Skordas was historian of the Varsity Club for one year, which was as long as the Club lasted, he recalls. He was quarterback of the football team for two years, and lettered in basketball his senior year. The 1934 Rat-Tat alleges that he was the best passer on the football team his junior year; frmn the accounts of the 1933 season, he must also have been a great running back. Upon graduation Mr. Skordas performed a variety of j'odd jobs" until he went to work for the Maryland Hall of Records on August 2, 1937. He started as a general research assistant, and four years later was promoted to assistant archivist. The Hall of Records, under the supervision of the Hall of Records Commission, is administered by the State Archivist. It is charged by the General Assembly with being the repository of non-current documents and records of Maryland State agencies, cities, towns, and counties. For exam- Maryland's Governor Marvin M~mdel and St. John's President Richard D. Weigle examine the King WilliaU1's School Charter which is exhibited in the Maryland Hall of Records on the campus in Annapolis. Standing, left to right, are Profile subject Gust Skordas '34, assistant archivist of Maryland; Mrs. P. James Underwood of Historic Annapolis, Inc., in a costume of the period; and Paul D. Newland, Provost of the Annapolis campus. ple, courthouse records which were created before April 28, 1788, the date on which Maryland ratified the Federal Constitution, must by law be deposited in the Hall of Records. As a matter of interest to alumni, a number of historic documents of the College are also stored there. Gust Skordas, Assistant Archivist of Maryland, has been a Fellow of the American Society of Archivists since 1959, and was among the first members to gain that status. (Only ten percent of the membership is elected to fellowships.) A contributor to a number of pro~ fessional journals, Mr. Skordas is the editor of The Early Settlers of Mart land, Genealogical Company, Baltimore, 1968. In au•uaw••> has co-edited or contributed ""·""""'" ' eleven publications of the Records Commission. Mr. Skordas is married toth<efj)\(}" Anita Parkinson of have a son, Ralph, ifornia, and who is the two grandchildren. �The College agents, and telephone volunteers who made this year's results possible. We at the College are most grateful for their help. For .comparison, we present the results of the last four campmgns: 1967-68 1968-69 1969-70 1970-71 ALUMNI ANNUAL GIVING Perhaps by the time this is published, the final report on Alumni Annual Giving will be in print; that depends in large part on how soon we complete Homecoming planning. To cover any eventuality, therefore, we herewith present a brief summary report. The 1970-71 Campaign was simply the best ever. While the figures themselves are significant, they become more important in light of the economic situation which has existed in this country for the past several years. Our alumni obviously have not been dissuaded from supporting their College. Highest praise must certainly go to the Campaign Chairman Jack Ladd Carr and the class captains, volunteer ---· Unrestricted Gifts $14,390 P crcen t Response 13.1% Alumni Donors 363 King William Associates $21,200 22.5% 629 83 ·---- $26,139 29.2% 828 87 $30,483 30.5% 883 99 (The designation "King William Associates" was first ap· plied to donors of unrestricted gifts of $100 or more during the 1968-69 Campaign.) ALUMNI DELEGATES From September, 1970, through May, 1971, the following alumni graciously represented the College on the occasions indicated: H. Willard Stern '43, at the inauguration of Nathan W ciss as president of Newark State University; Stephen Benedict '47, the inauguration of Harris Wofford as president of Bryn Mawr College; Jolm D. Oosterlwut '51, the convocation in observance of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the founding of Montgomery College (Maryland); Dr. Robert L. Burwell, Jr. '32, the inauguration of Merlyn Winfield Northfelt as president of Garrett Theological Seminary (Illinois); James M. Green, Jr. '60, the fiftieth anniversary convocation and inauguration of Alfonsc Ralph Miele as president of The College of St. Rose (New York); and William M. Davis '63, the installation of John Robert Silber as president of Boston University. CLASS NOTES 1921 A call from 'Vi11iam I-I. Y. Knighton informs us that the Golden Anniversaty Class is planning a class reunion at Homecoming time. A vety fine turn-out is expected for a reunion dinner at the Stafford Hotel in Baltimore on Friday, October 15th. (A detailed report will appear in the December issue.) The group plans then to come to Annapolis for the various activities on Saturday. with the Chesapeake and Potomac Telephone Co. According to his brother, the newly-retired Mr. Clark will devote his time to such interests as travel, golf, and bridge. As a matter of additional interest in this anniversary year, the Clarks' sixth-great-grandfather, Colonel Edward Dorsey, was one of the original trustees of King \Villiam's School. 1931 James D. Morris's son Jim, whose career with the Metropolitan Opera Company shows promise of stardom, is scheduled to give a concert at \Vashington College, Chestertown, J'vlaryhmd, on next April 4th. 1935 Mmyland Governor Marvin Mandel recently appointed John C. Donohue as chairman of the Board of Election Supervisors of Baltimore City. 1945 \Ve have just learned that Kenneth G. Gehret is education editor of the Christian Science I\1onitor. The Rev. Christian A. IIovde may be a bishop by the time this issue appears. An early summer convention to elect a suffragan bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Chicago resulted in a three-way deadlock, with Father Hovde one of the nominees. Another election was to be held in October in an effort to break the deadlock. Father Hovde is director of the Bishop Anderson House in Chicago. John D. Mack this summer left his position as executive vice president of Cbirol Company to join The Gillette Company as group vice president of Gillette North America, 1947 Richard S. Harris continues his insightful probing of the many facets of the Federal government in a series on political campaign spending in The New Yorker. He i:> now Deputy Director, Office of Population and Civic Development, Bureau for L8tin America, ALD., U. S. Department of State, in Washington, D. C. Mr. Davies makes his home in Riverdale, New York. Alan S. Maremont is now the Executive Director of the Mid-Peninsula Coalition Housing Fund, with offices in Palo Alto, California. Jules Pagano is now a professor of sociology at Florida Internatimml University in Miami. Another Pagano, LeRoy E., until recently professor of management and department chairman at Federal City College in Washington, ha::; moved to the Department of Industrial Engineering at Newark College of Engineering. 1950 Last spring the World Research Institute at Villanova University, John J. Logue, director, was the site of a three-day "Fate of the Oceans" Conference. Ecology, Seabed Authority, and Ocean Wealth were the major topics for discussion by an international panel of students, scientists, civic leaders, diplomats, and professors. 1951 A recent visitor to the Annapolis campus \vas Richard J. Batt, in town to do some research for his doctoral dissertation on American Revolutionary History. Mr. Batt received an LL.B. degree from Tulane University in 1954, and was in the private practice of law until 1968. He entered Tvlane 1s graduate school in 1967, and has taught there and at Newcomb College, Tulane's Women's College, since 1970. L. Donald Koontz writes that he saw John Franke, Jr., in Detroit at the annual meeting of the National Education Association. Mr. Franke teaches in St. Petersburg, F1orida, and is a member of the NEA Resolutions Committee. Mr. Koontz, president of the Cherry Creek (Colorado) Teacher's Association, also leads a Great Books discussion group in his spare time. 1927 1948 1952 Louis D. Clark writes that his brother, Henry B. Clark, has retired after 4 3 years of service Peter J. Davies has returned to the United States after many years abroad with USAID. Vlilliam D. Grimes has accepted a two-year assignment to London as representative to the 28 �r-·· October 1971 United Kingdom for the U. S. Naval Ordnance I ,a bora tory at White Oak, Silver Spring, Maryland. '11le 22nd staff member to hold this position since 1941, Mr. Grimes's major role is to provide for a ready exchange between British and American nava1 ordnance research and development activities. Mrs. Grimes (Diane), son Bill, and daughters Corky and Lauralce \Vill accompany Mr. Grimes. 1955 Classmates and friends of Elisabeth M. Chiem will be pleased to know that on August 25th she successfully passed oral examination on her senior essay, "The Concept of Property in Karl Marx", and thus completed all_ requirements for the degree of Bachelor of Arts from St. John's College. 1956 Pasquale L. Polillo and his vvife Sandi adopted a baby girl, Liza Sloane, this past spring. About the same time Mr. Polillo was elected chairman of the California Assocjatctl Press Television-Radio Association. He has just completed his first year as News Director of KGO-TV in San Francisco. 1962 Wlilliam R Salisbury, Attorney-Adviser in the Office of the Legal Adviser, Department of State, was recently promoted to Classs 5 in the Foreign Service. He is married to the fanner S. Diane Curns of Detroit. 1964 Mary (Biggar) J\1ain is co-author, with T. Berry Brazelton, M.D., of an article in the September issue of Rcdbook. Entitled "Arc There Too Many Sights and Sountls in Yonr Baby's World?", the article concerns the effects of various external stimuli on infants. John F. White has joined the Annapolis facnlty this year. Since graduation from St. John's he has earned a M.A. degree from. the New School for Social Research and IS a doctoral candidate. 1965 Jan F. Rlits joined. the faculty in Colby College in July as an instructor in the department of government. Mr. Blits has taught at the Cathedral School_ in New York City and the American International School in Zurich, Switzerland. He earned a M.A. degree at the New School for Social Research, and during this past summer has been studying under a National Science Foundation Fellowship. 1966 George F. Kramer (SF) rcceived'his Juris Doctor degree in June from the University of New Mexico Law School. July lst brought a visit from Marine Captain Peter S. Morosoff. He was on his \vay from Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, to Ft. SiB, Oklahoma, \Vherc he will undergo advanced artil'cry training for about nine months. 1968 After leaving St. John's, John L. Bergman graduated from the State University of New York, and is no\v studying for a doctor's degree in the history of science at The Johns IIopkins Universi-ty. John McCaflery (SF) has joined the Holy Order of Mans in Chicago. l'ather McCaffery writes that he is grateful for the \VOrk he did at St. John's in Santa Fe. Just after the last issue went to press \ve received an excellent letter from C. Kerry Nemovicller. He writes that St. John's is much on his mind as he pursues his duties as a second lieutenant in the Israeli Army. Lt. Nemovichcr is now married to a native-born Israeli, Miss IIadassah Ben Sasson, a graduate of the University of Tel Aviv \vith majors in history and Bible. The class of 1968 did well with letters this summer; early July brought one from George \V. Partlow, yvith the Peace Corps in Jamaica. He has been \Vorking in a joint nniversitygovernment project to up-grade mathematics teaching in primRry schools on the ishmd, and has just extended for a third year. His address is c/o Peace Corps, P.O.B. 107, Kingston, Jamaica, \V.I. Amelia Ruth (Hummel) Rarick graduated in June from TI:c George _\Vashingt~n U,niyersity, with spccml honors m economiCS. She has held t11e position of summer research assistant \Vith the International Bank for Rcconstmction and Development, and has been awardee'~ a Virginia State Library Fellowship for study at the University of Maryland library schooL Sarah (Braddock) WI cstrick has been accepted this £811 as a student at Ursinus College. 1969 Philip G. Holt and Miss Meredith Morgan of Austin, Texas, were married on August 23rd. -Mr. Holt \Vill pursue his classical studies at St:mford University this fa11, after what he terms "a very good decompression period after St. John's" at the University of Texas. HOMECOMING OcTOBER 15-16 Since a detailed Homecoming schedule was mailed about the time this went to press, we will not repeat it here. The July issue listed the 275th Anniversary Celebration events, to which all alumni are cordially invited. Of special interest will he a paper by Jacob Klein, about the St. John's Seminar to be presented Friday afternoon. A panel discussion will follow. Alumni activities that week-end will include an informal party Friday night; alumni seminars and a graduate school discussion for students on Saturday morning; the Annual JVIeeting in the afternoon; the Alumni Reception and Dinner; and informal parties Saturday night. Make your plans now to join us in Annapolis. 1 1970 A postcarc'l note from Jolin R. Dean, sent from r..llunich, Germany, informs us that he spent the summer in Bavaria_ learning Ge~man, climbing the Alps, and tcstmg the quahty ?f German beer. The language study was m connection \vith his doctoral \vork at the University of l\llassachusetts, the other two activities purely for enjoyment. Stephen J. Forman, now in hi~ sec_ond year at the University of Southern Cahforma School of l\lfedicinc, writes that he was elected president of the student body of the school last spring. He comments that while the first year of medical school may be harder for a St. John's graduate because of the ~uantity ~f the information he must absorb, his academ1c background is a distinct atlvantagc. In Memoriam 1912-Dr. Mark Ziegler, Olney, Mel .• July 24, 197!. 191 ~-Asa \Villard Joyce, Millersville, Mel .• July 30, 1971. 1916-Hiram F. Plummer, Jr., Baltimore, Mel., July 6, 197!. 1921-Gcorge B. Woelfel, Sr., Annapolis, Md., July 22, 1971. 1931-IIorace H. Snow, Jr., Truro, Mass., July 2!, 1971. 1934-W. Thetford LeViness, Santa Fe, N. M., September 9, 1971. 1935-John H. Von Dree1e III, Annapolis, Mel., June 18, 1971. Baltimore, 1953-Bemard H. Ude1, Vi/ashington, D. C., July 12, 197!. 1923-Gen. \Villiam C. Pnrnc11, Linthicum, Md., June 23, 1971. 1970-Susan Una Schnurr, New York City, !968. 1922-W. Beaton Connolly, Md., June 30, 1971. 29 �Friends of St. John's College and the Santa Fe Opera enjoy the "Summer Celebration" honoring the College's 275th anniversary and the Opera's world premiere performance of "Yerma" by Villa-Lobos. The College St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland 21404 ·>i •·.· ' ···· 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. 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. 30 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 The College, October 1971 Description An account of the resource Volume XXIII, Number 3 of <em>The College</em> Magazine.  Published in October 1971. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Development Offices of St. John's College 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 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1971-10 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Type The nature or genre of the resource text Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Wyatt, Malcolm Felter, Mary P. Parran, Jr., Thomas Trimmer, Maurice Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context The_College_Vol_23_No_3_1971 President's Report Presidents The College https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/3b0a5a7e35d5aabfd7a8ccc2fb3823db.pdf 215a51f9ccd3b89aacffa5bbf2fae19b PDF Text Text The St. John's Review Volume 50, number 3 (2008) Editor C. Nathan Dugan Editorial Board Eva T. H. Bramt Frank Hunt Joe Sachs John Van Doren Robert B. Williamson Elliott Zuckerman Subscriptions and Editorial Assistant Thomas Browning The St. John's Review is published by the Office of the Dean, St. John's College, Annapolis: Christopher B. Nelson, President; Michael Dink, Dean. For those not on the distribution list, subscriptions are $10 for one year. Unsolicited essays, reviews, and reasoned letters are welcome. All manuscripts are subject to blind review. Address correspondence to the Review, St. John's College, P.O. Box 2800, Annapolis, MD 21404-2800. Back issues are available, at $5 per issue, from the St. John's College Bookstore. ©2008 St. John's College. All rights reserved; reproduction in whole or in part without permission is prohibited. ISSN 0277-4720 Desktop Publishing and Printing The St. Jolm's Public Relations Office and the St. fohn's College Pri11t Shop �2 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW �3 Contents Is There Great Jazz? ...................................................... 5 Andre Barbera Preformationism In Biology: From Homunculi To Genetic Programs ........................................................ 33 jorge H. Aigla, M.D The Persians and the Parthenon: Yoke and Weave Part Two: The Parthenon............................................. 53 Mera ]. Flaumenhaft �4 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW �5 -.:f Is There Great Jazz? fj:-- Andre Barbera Ten years ago I began a lecture with an excerpt from "Split Kick." [Musical example 1] 1 That lecture was ostensibly devoted to one evening's recorded performance by Art Blakey's quintet in 1954. My barely hidden agenda was to ask, 'is there great jazz?', to answer 'yes', and to consider the implications for St. John's College. Now I ask the question explicitly, although my confidence in an affirmative answer has waned. Addressing the practical problems associated with an affirmative answer is not the main thrust of my remarks. Rather, I want to consider whether jazz really is worthy of our attention. What is 'great' and what is 'jazz'? I shall not attempt to define greatness. As we consider jazz and its possible merit, however, we may uncover some of the aspects of greatness that we attribute to the works already on St. John's program, or at least think about some of our prejudices on behalf of those works. Let us get straight about what kind of music jazz issomething we all know already. Jazz is primarily instrumental music, emphasizing brass and reed instruments, based on dance, popular song forms, and the blues, and is of distinctly African-American character in its origin, development, and soul. Jazz entails swing, the blue tonality, and improvisation. Jazz musicians employ idiosyncratic timbres or tone colors. In jazz, instruments are treated like voices and voices like instruments. Ultimately, one might find in jazz expressions of Andre Barbera is a tutor at the Annapolis campus of St. John's College. This lecture was delivered at AnnapOlis on September 8, 2006. }.,.{usical examples arc listed in Appendix 1 and can be heard online by visiting the St. John's Review webpage (www.stjohnscollege.edu/news/pubs/review.shtml) and clicking the link "Jazz Examples to Accompany 'Is there Great Jazz?' by Andre Barbera". �6 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW individuality, autonomy, freedom. Many examples of jazz lack some of these characteristics and perhaps a few lack them all, but this rough definition should suffice. Of these various characteristics, some are more important than others, for example the African-American natnre of the musical idiom. Jazz is race music, by which I do not mean that one need be overtly cognizant of race to appreciate it, nor that jazz musicians need to be African Americans. Nonetheless, the nature of jazz, its soul, is African-American. Other important characteristics of jazz include swing, the blues, and expression of the individual. I shall speak about swing now, and comment on the others later. Swing is good, out of place in much music, but undeniably a good musical characteristic. Swing is difficult to define. It requires that the music neither speed up nor slow down, thus betraying its origin in dance. Fifty years ago, in a famous albeit imperfect treatment of the phenomenon, Andre Hodeir noted: "In jazz, the feeling of relaxation does not follow a feeling of tension but is present at the same moment." And, "Swing is possible ... only when the beat, though it seems perfectly regular, gives the impression of moving inexorably ahead .... " 2 A well-known example of swing can occur in consecutive eighth notes that are played such that the note on the beat lasts longer than the note off the beat. [Musical example 2; Appendix 2, Swing Eighths] How much longer one note lasts than another varies and presents a notational challenge that is usually and wisely ignored. One does not learn about swing from written examples, and besides, this depiction is very narrow, pertaining only to consecutive notes of equal notational value. We shall consider a more subtle and complex example of swing later. Now that we have skirted the question of greatness and provided a loose description of jazz, we might reasonably wonder: why even ask if there is any great jazz? Empirically, one can discern the influence of African-American music all �BARBERA 7 over the globe, from the blues revival in 1960s England to the second-hand influence of the Beatles throughout the Western world, India, and the Far East, from the popular music of subSaharan Africa to the internet-transported pop music of today. There are a handful of exceptions: the Nazis banned this kind of music, and it is prohibited in some strict Muslim societies. But by and large, blues, jazz, and African-American music in general can be heard all over the world, in its original forms as well as in myriad adaptations and dilutions. Of the various sub-types of African-American music, jazz is clearly the most sophisticated, the highest, by which I mean the most developed and complex. Thus I maintain with little or no reservation that jazz is the great music of the \Xlestern world over the past one hundred years; but here I am using 'great' to mean hegemonic. Pervasive influence is insufficient for us to canonize the music as great in our terms, as worthy of our study, but it is sufficient reason for us to consider it. Our aim here is to begin to evaluate the musical merit of jazz. What are the qualities of jazz that might make it great in the sense of The Republic or Euclid's Elements of Geometry or The Brothers Karamazov? Here the long list of what is ordinary about jazz intrudes, the reasons why jazz for all of its charms is not great, but in fact rather common. I shall address five aspects: setting, structi1re, boredom, recording, and individuality. Setting We can go right back to our opening example to start working on our list. The object of scrutiny is a performance, a live recording. (Let us just agree to use the common if somewhat nonsensical terminology of "live recording" to distinguish recordings made in front of an audience from recordings made in a studio.) The piece, "Split Kick" by Horace Silver, is not written down in the traditional sense. The performance is an isolated event occurring on a Sunday night in February 1954, in a nightclub. People drink in nightclubs and talk and eat while the musicians are playing. Jazz �8 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW has made it into the concert hall, but most often its setting is one of entertainment and amusement. The use of 'noble' in such a context seems overdressed and proud. Blakey's quintet had been playing at Birdland for the entire week, two sets a night. But these musicians were not a working group, having been pulled together for the specific purpose of that week's performances leading up to a live recording. 3 Let us not ignore the spoken introduction. William Clayton "Pee Wee" Marquette was the short-statured m.c. who worked also as doorman at Birdland. He lived upstairs, took his meals there, and "touch[ed] the guys in the band for money. "4 Pee Wee reasoned that his promotion of the musicians entitled him to a commission. Pee Wee also carried with him an adjustable butane cigarette lighter set at the maximum: apparently the sight of a two-foot flame shooting up in the dark, basement nightclub provided a thrill to patrons. 5 Does great music need a pitchman with a flamethrower? At nightclubs, jazz musicians usually give two performances per night, and sometimes three on weekends. The Village Vanguard, an old-style, cash-only jazz club in New York, books groups Tuesday through Sunday, with performances at 9 and 11 on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday; 9, 11, and 1 on Friday and Saturday. That's not art; that's work! Therefore, the setting for jazz is common. Structure "Split Kick" is a contrafact that relies on the standard, 32measure structure and harmony of a popular song, that is, on a small, narrow, and fragile framework. 6 A structure like this is central to almost all improvisation-this is in part why free jazz blew itself up and did so fairly quickly. What did Mozart do with this structure? There are his variations on themes, usually for keyboard, which doubtless are close to transcriptions of improvisations. They show Mozart not at his best- �BARBERA 9 one might even say 'worst' except that worst and Mozart's music don't really go together. The variations are boring and lack intensity, just one elaboration after another. The structure of theme and variations imposes in most cases limitations of harmony, meter, and phrase. There are a few instances of jazz that break out of this mold, generally ambitious and pretentious endeavors. If jazz were to be great, it seems to me it must work within and simultaneously transcend by some means the limitation of theme-andvariation structure. Boredom Structural limitations lead to the indisputable fact that vast stretches of jazz performances are boring/ One might make the same remark about other works of art, literature, philosophy, and so forth. I shall not mention those works on the program that I find most tedious, with the exception of Tristan tmd Isolde. The conclusion of that opera is glorious by any measure and stands perfectly well as good music, severed from what comes before it. But part of its true glory rests in relief, or release, the sense that the bad trip of the past four hours is about to end. We do not read all ancient geometers, do not study all Viennese classical composers, do not read all enlightenment philosophers. There is a fair amount of material attributed to Euclid that we never look at, and for that matter we read only about half of The Elements of Geometry. We have time to do only so much, and besides, much of what we skip is boring. With jazz, in a misguided sense of fairness-everyone gets a turn-we have drum solos and bass solos, most of the former and virtually all of the latter being boring to listen to. This is not to question in the least the nearly indispensable roles played by drums and bass in making good jazz. But all sorts of solos by melodic or chording instruments are also boring. My friend Stevie Curtin, a guitarist, says that there is a lot of killing time in jazz. Such a notion is related to the labor of the entertainer, and is of a lower order artistically �10 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW than the boredom that is composed into works with an intention of ultimate release or exhilaration. Recording Industry Since the 1920s, jazz has been disseminated not only to its audience but also to its future practitioners largely by means of recordings. To cite just one sequence: Lester Young listened to the recordings of Frankie Trumbauer, Charlie Parker to those of Lester Young, Lou Donaldson. and just about everyone else to those of Charlie Parker. The recording industry is a business, and most decisions regarding what gets recorded and who hears it are made with an eye toward turning a profit. All art and literature might be constrained to some degree by the practicalities of life, but the short-term demands of the free market hardly allow for the unfettered and ennobling expression of the human spirit. Worse still, the idiom of jazz, which depends upon spontaneous invention, is disseminated in recordings that are hardly products of spontaneity. Records are made by acoustical engineers and then marketed. No doubt the live recording is an attempt to mitigate this apparently contradictory relationship. Michael MacDonald, an audio technician, producer of jazz records, and graduate of St. John's College, mentioned to me that his goal as producer of a "Live at ... " recording "was to place the listener in the second row of tables, in from the stage." 8 To some extent, I believe such recordings are effective. Think of our opening example: it is as if we really are at Birdland; we can visualize Pee Wee Marquette on the stage; we can see the musicians taking their places; we imagine that the music is produced spontaneously before us. Alas, in this case there is some deception. From the Blue Note documents sent to me by Michael Cuscuna, I conclude that "Split Kick" was recorded in the middle of the third set of five sets of recordings made that evening. Marquette says, "We're bringing back to tl1e bandstand at this time, ladies and �BARBERA II gentlemen, the great Art Blakey and his wonderful group .... " Were they really coming back to the bandstand, or were they just sitting there, waiting for the audio technicians to record an introduction ?9 The Individual In a list of the hallmarks of jazz, Gunther Schuller has placed primary emphasis on the development by the performer of a unique tone or tone color. 10 Schuller argues that the more resistant the instrument, trumpet versus alto saxophone for example, the more important it is to develop such a tone. This idea characterizes jazz no differently than one might describe pop singing-it all comes down to some captivating tone color. In thinking especially about Miles Davis, a master of various tones, I thought that Schuller might be right. [Musical Example 3] How to characterize Davis's tone? Variety: brassy notes, bent notes, dirty notes, decaying notes, breathy notes. One trumpet sound, in fact, seems to be pitchless, or composed of many pitches, all breath. Writers have used various terms to describe the color of Davis's tone. To me it seems first and foremost to be fragile but inherently contradictory, both harsh and delicate at the same time. An intended accolade given to some popular and jazz musicians and singers is that they could have played classical music, or they could have sung opera. I am thinking of Sarah Vaughan in this regard. It is safe to say, with that tone Miles never could have played classical music. In review, jazz is common, not great, because: 1. It is performed primarily in nightclubs; 2. It relies on the structure of theme and variations; 3. In many instances it is boring, exuding a workman-like or laborious quality; 4. It is controlled by the recording industry; 5. It is obsessed with tone color. �THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW 12 From these remarks, one might think that I was called in to help put down an insurrection of jazz rebels seeking to contaminate the St. John's program with their music. To generalize, the issue that I am placing before you is one of entertainment versus ennoblement, that is to say, refreshing versus new and improved. Thus far, I have been making the case for jazz as entertainment, and as I attempt to show some ennobling qualities of jazz, you will see that we never leave entertainment and its limitations far behind. * * * There are many great jazz musicians about whom I have to say only that they deserve lectures of their own. In addition, strong, fruitful influences, like Latin music, important issues regarding the composition of the jazz audience, and widely celebrated and influential recordings do not figure in my remarks. Thus my remarks are not broadly representative of jazz, although I hope that they touch on its character. Most of early jazz and all recent developments are also absent, which betrays my prejudices and age. Rather than great jazz musicians, let us ask if there is simply a great jazz recording, or more narrowly, a great jazz solo. We turn first of all to the great man of jazz, Louis Armstrong, who almost single-handedly transformed his work into one that revolves around the exceptional individual. Here is an excerpt from "Hotter Than That" recorded by Armstrong and his Hot Five in 1927. The excerpt includes a polyphonic, eight-measure introduction, then three choruses of 32 measures each, followed by a call-and-response passage between voice and guitar. I direct your attention especially to the first and third choruses where we hear Armstrong first as cornetist and then as vocalist. Despite the relatively primitive recording conditions, it is abundantly clear to me why this jazz was called 'hot'. I also call your attention, although it is hardly necessary, to the latter half of the third chorus where �BARBERA 13 Armstrong sings in 3/4 meter against the prevailing 4/4 meter. [Musical example 4] What I find truly remarkable about this vocal passage is how Armstrong extricates himself from the 3/4-meter pattern. He does not do so abruptly, but rather before returning to 4/4 he follows the ten measures of 3/4 with a measure of 12/8, whose off beats do not jibe with either the 4/4 or the 3/4 pattern. Jazz writers comment on the interchange between Armstrong and guitarist Lonnie Johnson that follows this passage, although I sense a letdown at this point after the brilliance of Armstrong's cornet playing and his stunning scat singing. "Hotter Than That" is a very important piece in the history of jazz, but I feel the need to make some excuses for it-primitive recording, no drums, a time-killing piano vamp. Let us consider a somewhat more modern piece. A quick search on the internet produced the following testimonials: 11 1. Terell Stafford, who has been hailed as "one of the great players of our time, a fabulous trumpet player" by piano legend McCoy Tyner, cites as one of his most profound musical influences Clifford Brown's rendition of "Cherokee." 2. On bandleader Bob January's website My Favorite Things, under "My favorite recordings," there is a short list that contains Clifford Brown's "Cherokee." 3. Trumpeter Woody Shaw, in an interview for Down Beat [Aug. 1978], said: "I'll never forget [Brown's "Cherokee"]. It just haunted me. Such a beautiful dark tone. Clifford more or less shaped my conception of what I wanted to sound like." 4. On a site that seemed to be connected to Springfield Public School District 186, Springfield, Illinois, in a section entitled "Entertainment: Rediscovering classic jazz," Justin Shields cites "one of the greatest jazz recordings in history, the �14 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW classic 'Cherokee' [by Clifford Brown]." 5. And on a blog entitled Corn Chips and Pie: Chunky nuggets, Millicent posted the following [May 3, 2006]. "Let me tell you something: if I played the trumpet (well, I did once, in the sixth grade), I would transcribe every single note of Clifford Brown's solo ... of 'Cherokee,' and I would work on it every day of my life. Finally, at age 97, I would master it, and every single resident of my nursing home on Mars would shit himself in wonder and awe. Then I would die." Perhaps we should take a listen. We hear the introduction, the tune or head, and then two choruses of improvisation by Clifford Brown. A word about the introduction: it is a pejorative cliche about the music of native Americans, but it functions well in setting up the rapid, soaring, pentatonic melody. [Musical example 5] Clifford Brown's solo is truly exhilarating, especially the last quarter of his first chorus with its breathless overflowing of notes. The remaining solos on this performance by other musicians are good, but certainly not in a league with Brown's. So one experiences a let-down of sorts in the latter half of the piece. Indeed, the same thing happens in Brown's solo itself: the second chorus, as fine as it is, cannot match the first. The bar has been set too high, too soon, having the effect of a denouement that lasts too long. Now I would like to turn to a jazz solo that I think is great, on Frank Wess's "Segue In C,'' performed by Count Basie and his orchestra at Birdland in 1961. The arrangement of the piece is masterful, but I want to home in on the first solo after Basie's introduction, Budd Johnson playing tenor saxophone. Johnson was a highly regarded and widely traveled musician, but it is safe to say that his is not a household name, not even in some jazz circles. We shall hear the last introductory chorus by Basie, followed by Johnson's solo. �BARBERA 15 Johnson's solo lacks the dazzling virtuosity that is heard on "Cherokee." Rather it comprises six beautifully designed, integrated blues choruses. Here we have a successful attempt to overcome the inherent limitation of the theme-andvariation structure. Johnson has fashioned each chorus as a melodic and emotional succession to the previous one, and with a musical sense for the shape of the entire set of six. The first is restrained, sweet-toned, and bubbles over with swing, in part owing to the entrancing rhythm section. Indeed, much of the music produced by Basie's orchestra can be taken as exemplars of swing. The second chorus expands the register, emphasizing tone 5, and ends with repeated tone 6 as a springboard to a further expansion of the register to tone 8 in the third chorus. In the third and fourth choruses, the wind instruments from the orchestra accompany the soloist with riffs. The fourth chorus is marked at the beginning by a quotation of "I Dream Of Jeannie With The Light Brown Hair," which I note solely to orient the listener. The fifth chorus is the emotional high point of the solo, containing loud, long, high blue thirds leading into the first and fifth measures. The sixth chorus, the denouement, is as subtle and effective as the first. It begins with repeated C's, tone 1, and ends with an almost self-effacing descent down to low tone 3. [Musical example 6] I have also attempted to notate the first three-plus measures of the sixth chorus to emphasize an aspect of swing. [Appendix 2, Triplets] Excluding subtleties of intonation, and even assuming that the rhythmic designation of the individual notes is approximately correct, where does one place the last note, B-flat, of the example? In other words, is it the third part of a triply divided half measure that falls late (indicated by the arrow pointing right), or is it an anticipation of the downbeat of the next measure (indicated by the arrow pointing left)? Probably neither. [Musical example 7] What we hear is the soloist fall behind the beat. Triplets can produce the effect of speeding up or slowing down depending upon the durational value to which the ear hears �16 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW them as an alternative. In this case, the triplets in and of themselves produce a drag on the beat, and Budd Johnson is playing the triplets progressively slower. The passage is made even more effective by the early appearance of the B-flat. This is the note that transforms the tonic harmony of C major into a secondary dominant chord pointing to the subdominant harmony of measure 5 in the chorus. The secondary dominant has occurred throughout the piece in measure four, but in this case the phrase is truncated, at least theoretically, by the omission of a second occurrence of the note C. Therefore, the transformational B-flat arrives just a little bit early even though the triplets are gradually slowing down. The ear and the heart make sense of this. Why don't we stop here and canonize "Segue In C"? I have already mentioned that the piece is well orchestrated and unfolds beautifully. There are a couple of written-out ensemble passages to come as well as a trombone solo. The latter is the problem. The trombone solo is not bad, and the audience at Birdland that night seemed to like it, but in fact it is no match for Johnson's solo, and at times seems downright crude. It effectively diminishes the work. With the examples by Louis Armstrong, Clifford Brown, and Budd Johnson, we have encountered the problems or dangers of seeking greatness: (1) in a recording; (2) in an improvisation; (3) in a whole that consists of a series of contributions by different individuals. I shall return to this example by Budd Johnson at the end, but let us move on. What is the work? In most cases we have books, writings assembled and organized at some time and place into what are now books with titles like the Elements of Geometry or the Critique of Pure Reason. In some cases our works are the realized performances of musical scores, for example Bach's St. Matthew Passion. In other cases, somewhat more problematic for us at St. John's, but not really for our conception of the work, the object resides in a museum, Leonardo's Mona Lisa or Picasso's Guernica, for example. �17 BARBERA With jazz, the nature of improvisation turns the work into an action. Certainly there are instances of improvisations becoming fixed compositions.' 2 Nevertheless, the very essence of jazz seems to entail spontaneous music making, real-time poiesis. Charlie Parker's legendary status in the world of jazz rests in part on his unmatched ability to produce unique improvisations repeatedly, even on multiple, consecutive takes of the same tune in the recording studio. Ted Gioia addresses this problem in The Imperfect Art: Reflections 011 jazz and Modem Culture. He proposes to develop an "aesthetics of imperfection." Gioia writes, " ... the virtues we search for in other art forms-premeditated design, balance between form and content, an overall symmetry-are largely absent in jazz." And later, "our interest in jazz, it would seem, is less a matter of our interest in the perfection of the music, and more a result of our interest in the expressiveness of the musician ... [whose performances) are judged ... not by comparison with some Platonic ideal of perfection but by comparison with what other musicians can do under similar conditions. Our interest lies primarily in the artist and only secondarily in the art." 13 On first reading, such a suggestion seems to imply a kind of hagiography of individuals, in short, a study of great men and their deeds. The achievements of Alexander the Great are indeed great, and conceivably we might sit around and discuss how he did it. In that discussion, the contributions of some participants would be more valuable than others, but likely so because of experience or at least outside reading. I presume that an appreciation of jazz does not entail an interest in this man or that, in Louis Armstrong or Charlie Parker, but rather in the artist. We might be amazed at the man who can play the fastest, or the highest, or the loudest on a given instrument, but certainly this amazement differs from our enchantment with Clifford Brown's solo on "Cherokee." As listeners to jazz, we marvel not at the highest or loudest or strangest note, but at that consecution of notes - ----------- ---~ -------------- -- �18 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW aptly fitted to the tune, at a specific time and place, on a specific instrument or instruments. If in so doing we are studying great men, we are doing so only while they are actually performing the deeds that make them great. This brings us to a reconsideration of individuality, which previously I had listed among those characteristics that make jazz common. There the subject was tone color, that quality of sound that might be uniquely identified with a performer. A unique sound is of some interest owing to the originality and skill needed to produce it, but it is hardly a principle of great music. It is, at best, an ingredient. There may be in jazz, however, a sense of the individual far more significant than unique tone color. Part of Louis Armstrong's great achievement during the 1920s was to make jazz a soloist's music in place of the quasi-egalitarian ethos of collective improvisation. His effect on jazz was analogous to what Babe Ruth did for baseball, making it a slugger's game. Since Armstrong, nearly all jazz has been concerto music, music that requires an ensemble, but only to throw into relief and to support the music of the individual. The jazz soloist, the individual, goes about his work in connection with the blues. The connection is in fact threefold. First, there is the structure, usually tripartite, built on strong harmonic pillars. Second, there is the blue tonality with its characteristic tone 3, its subtonic, and its embellishment of tone 5. Third, there is the sentiment, the lament that conveys the soul of jazz. It is this third meaning of the blues that is of paramount importance in defining the role of the jazz soloist. Lament underpins much jazz, but not in such a way that hearing jazz (or blues) is a sad experience for the listener. Quite the opposite. The listener, through the music, has his cares-not necessarily woes-articulated in a way that surpasses his own ability to express them. Blues guitarist Brownie McGhee went so far as to reverse the relationship ordinarily expressed by "having the blues." He said, "The �BARBERA 19 blues was in the cradle with me rockin'. I never had the blues. The blues had me. My cradle would rock without anybody rockin' it. " 14 For the listener, something like catharsis takes place, but not in the sense that the listener pities or fears a representation of truly pitiable beings or frightful conditions. The listener's condition or lament, rather, is transformed in the musical expression and, if not lifted from her shoulders, is at least lifted up before the community and to God. The jazz soloist is a priest. As is the case with most works of art, the expression is individual, particular. The sentiment is not ''Abandonment and infidelity are evil" but rather "My baby done left me." Blues musician Bill Broonzy said, "It's a natural thing that no two human beings had blues the same way." 15 Expressions by and of the individual are hardly unique to music or to the United States, but in this country there has existed over the past two centuries a remarkably and perhaps uniquely fertile ground for the sprouting up and growth of a musical idiom that so expresses the soul. The setting is, of course, a special case of the melting pot, a fertile ground that includes the contradiction of enslavement of Africans sanctioned by a government that in spirit may be the best attempt so far to secure individual liberty in the context of society and its responsibilities. The contradiction is enslavement coupled with insult and irony. One need not know about the enslavement of Africans in the United States in order to appreciate jazz, but the existence of jazz is, in my opinion, unthinkable without the enslavement. This notion might cause mathematical minds with a taste for justice to worry about or question the goodness of the world: the price for a great artistic development being cruelty and dehumanizing social structure. Such a thought-if there were not any cruelty, there would not be any jazz-puts emphasis in the wrong place. The world is a wonder, aspects of which may be considered in terms of equations. (For those of you familiar with The �20 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW Brothers Karamazov, one might think of the difference between Ivan and Zosima.) A brief review: after considering an argument for jazz as common, jazz as entertainment, we have been considering the possibility of something greater. We have heard excerpts from legendary solos by Louis Armstrong and Clifford Brown, and a solo by Budd Johnson that overcomes the limitation of theme and variations and in so doing achieves integrity. From these examples we were required to consider what is the jazz work, and this in tnrn led us to think about the jazz soloist as an individual who, in the context of the blues, makes a connection with the individual listener. I have proposed an image of the priest for the jazz soloist, but I want to emphasize the limited, thoroughly Western notion that I have in mind. I do not see the soloist as a kind of African tribal leader, or even as a Levite. In other words, although the soloist serves as an intermediary, taking upon his shoulders the burden of articulation, and thus in a way performs a sacrifice, he does not do it primarily for the good of the community. That good may be a by-product of his action. Rather, he does it for you, or for me. He acts for the individual. His entire musical being is that of the individual, the autonomous one, cast in relief against the communal background. Before concluding with remarks on how the connection is made, I would like to consider one more musical example, a candidate for a great work, albeit a miniature. In fact, we shall hear three versions. The piece is not much more than a riff, composed by Charlie Parker and set in the 12-measure blues sequence. Entitled "Now's The Time," it has a moderate tempo in between the slow lament and the fast instrumental blues. I call it a dance blues. 16 Parker recorded "Now's the Time" more than once, and although his solos are almost always interesting, I know of nothing special about those recordings to recommend them as great. Here is the beginning of one from 1953-Parker's solo on this recording is very good-so that we can hear the �BARBERA 21 basic plan. In lieu of trying to write out the head or theme based on a single performance by Parker, I have provided the version published in The Real Book, with a copyright of 1945,17 [Musical example 8; Appendix 2, "Now's The Time"] Now let us listen to the beginning of a recording by tenor saxophonist Sonny Rollins from February, 1964. We shall hear the head, just one blues chorus in this case rather that two in Parker's, and then four choruses of improvisation. [Musical example 9] In my opinion, there are many factors that contribute to the greatness of this performance: the busy drums; the highly propulsive bass-clear evidence that you do not need to allot a solo to the bassist as long as you let him really blow during the performance; the tone of the sax-narrow or with minimal vibrato at times, but chock full of pitch variation; omitted notes, for example measure six of the head; thematic choruses, the first built around ghost tones in approach to the tonic, the second and third emphasizing tone 6 in both the upper and lower registers, the fourth emphasizing tone 2. A comprehensive analysis would tie together these tones of emphasis, which function like the recitation tones of improvised psalmody." But here my analytical goal is much smaller and narrower. I call your attention to one very brief passage in measure 8 of the second chorus, although I shall gloss over the details. I have transposed Rollins's solo to F for purposes of comparison. 19 [Musical example 10; Appendix 2, Rollins, 2:5-8] Rollins has centered initially on D, tone 6, for this middle phrase of the blues, measures 5-8, but then there is a startling flourish, the beginning of which is presented in the last measure of the example. Assuming that D-flat and C-sharp are the same notes, you can see that the sixteenth-note run is a whole-tone scale. The whole-tone passage ruptures the music; it breaks the groove. But this rupture makes musical sense. Three or four of the tones comprising the scale are part of the tonality, a blues in F. The B-natural and the C-sharp �22 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW however are definitely outside, and these are the notes that startle us, that give us the tension that accompanies relaxation. I believe that the inspiration for this rupture, and what makes it work so well, can be found in the accompaniment to the head. We hear Ron Carter, the bassist, play a chromatic ascent in the head in measures 5-8, in a rhythm only approximated in the written musical example. [Appendix 2, Rollins, head 58] The B-flat and arguably the B-natural and C are also part of the theme, but what about the C-sharp? The latter note does not appear in the two recorded versions by Parker that I am familiar with nor in the written version. [Musical example 11] From whom did the chromatic ascent come? Horace Silver, perhaps? During A Night at Bird/and in 1954, Blakey's group played "Now's The Time," and the chromatic ascent is clearly presented by the pianist, Silver. Note that while the Bflat, B-natural, C-natural and their harmonization are played by the entire ensemble, only Silver plays the C-sharp. [Musical example 12; Appendix 2, Blakey and Silver, head 58] Rollins must have heard this recording, and perhaps the chromatic ascent had been making the rounds for some time in the performance of "Now's The Time." Ten years separate the two recordings. 20 When the chromatic ascent is carried to an extreme of four notes, then we arrive at C-sharp, which along with B-natural provides the missing tones for a complete whole-tone scale. It is precisely in this connection that Rollins is able to push or break the tonality, albeit for a moment, and to do so with inherent musical logic. I am not suggesting that Rollins came to his performance in a fashion as pedantic as my presentation, although in jazz circles he is famous for his introspection. A close look, however, at an admittedly very short passage provides an insight into and possible understanding of the musical thinking of a jazz genius. Rollins apparently liked the result, �BARBERA 23 because he plays a very similar passage in measure 7 of the third chorus. [Musical example 13] Let us now move from small to large, from consideration of chromatic passing tones to the general question posed by the title of the lecture. Have we found a great work of jazz? Undoubtedly, provided that we stay within the realm of jazz. The rest of the performance is also very good, with solos by Herbie Hancock and again by Rollins, with further references to the whole-tone phrase. But is the work really great? I see two related reasons for saying "No." First, it is a recording, and second, the recording took place in a recording studio. There is no way around the first problem, one that is shared by virtually all music that we study and to some degree by just about every work on the St. John's program insofar as the books are translations made from texts established by editors. I feel that the problem is more serious with jazz, with that musical idiom in which, as I have claimed, we are entertained and perhaps ennobled by the individual in the very act of individuation. Attempting to solve the second problem, the studio recording, is a temptation that I find irresistible. The solution is a temptation because we know that in most cases the "live recording" is also somewhat of a fabrication, a piecing together by recording engineers of recorded excerpts. This is the case with A Night at Bird/and. The reason why the temptation is irresistible is because the engineers often do a good job. By a good job, I mean that the recording approximates the real thing, and I make this claim from experience. I know, I have experienced the real thing, an ennobling performance by a jaz.z musician. At one point I considered apologizing for what amounts to a dressed-up version of "jazz in my life." Further reflection on the subject inclines me to think that the personal aspect of the subject is in fact central. Jazz is about individuals, it is music by the individual and for the individual. It is not only concerto music, but concerto music best heard in its actual, spontaneous development, and best �24 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW heard up close, that is, as chamber music, in a setting where the listener relates intimately and personally to the performer. Our chambers are nightclubs. The Blakey performance at Birdland is about as good a recorded live performance as any that I know of. It is a recording and thus artificial, or doubly artificial, but it captures a sense of spontaneity and improvisation. The music and the musicians are of high caliber. And they were cookin' that night. Nevertheless, there may be no individual piece, not even an individual solo that we could call great, not on a par with the performances that we heard by Louis Armstrong, Clifford Brown, Budd Johnson, and Sonny Rollins. Where does this leave us? Even if we were to decide that there are great performances of jazz that could be revisited repeatedly, those performances would be relatively brief: five, ten, fifteen minutes. There are a few examples in jazz of extended compositions and performances, but by and large, the great performances of jazz are miniatures. Such being the case hardly excludes jazz from our consideration. We might approach a performance like Sonny Rollins's "Now's The Time" in a way similar to our approach to a motet by Josquin des Prez or a sonnet by Shakespeare. Were we to try for something larger, longer, my inclination would be toward the Live at ... genre rather than the extended work-A Love Supreme-or the thematic collection of recordings, for example Out of Time. The problem with my preference, A Night at Bird/and, is that we know it is an artifice, a collection of miniatures pieced together to give the impression of a whole. Its advantage, on the other hand, is the success of the ruse, the conveyance of a sense of spontaneity spread out over an evening's work, and this is crucial. For a great work of jazz must convey the sense of the artist at work, that work being a priestly lament that strives for, that longs for, that articulates ... and here words fail me. I cannot say what jazz articulates. Jazz, I believe, really is about something, albeit ineffable. Furthermore, jazz has meaning, not just musical meaning, but meaning as jazz. It exudes the spirit of America, �BARBERA 25 especially North America. Freedom of the individual is perhaps the characteristic most commonly associated with jazz, and although this seems to be generally true, the peculiar qualities of lament, sacrifice, and beauty are missing in this characterization. Let us narrow our scope by returning to the example of Budd Johnson's solo in "Segue in C." The structure of theme and variations is a limitation that hinders musical development, but at the same time it provides the channel through which improvisation, individuation can take place. 21 Unlike with literature and the non-temporal arts, with jazz the clock is ticking. Unlike with the music of Mozart, with jazz the clock is ticking now. Jazz is urgent, and so we feel it when Budd Johnson falls behind the beat. We feel it not because we fear that Johnson is going to lose the beat, but rather because we can feel his control, his autonomy. [Musical example 14; Appendix 2, Triplets] The blues and song form provide the foundations of phrase and harmony that allow for such free elaboration, that allow for elaborations about the autonomous individual. Time flows. Music forms time. Improvised music forms time in time, perhaps self-referentially. Jazz, if it is great, forms time in time in history: this individual, this place and time, your lament, but made beautiful, transcendent. I do not know if there is great recorded jazz. The portion of this account that has sought such a work, that has attempted to determine its characteristics, and that has argued diffidently in behalf of a few cases, is shamelessly based on personal testimony. In the final analysis, no amount of explanation on my part will make jazz or any individual performance great for you, just as I am powerless to persuade you, ultimately, that the Mozart-da Ponte operas are great. Knowledgeable and sensitive human beings point to these works and tell us they are great. Personally I am certain in one case, Mozart, and favorably inclined but uncertain in the other. �THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW 26 Appendix 1: Recorded Music Examples Musical examples can be heard online by visiting the St. John's Review webpage (www.stjohnscollege.edu/news/pubs/review.shtml) and clicking the link "Jazz Examples to Accompany 'Is there Great Jazz?' by Andre Barbera". 1. Split Kick 2. Now's The Time Art Blakey Quintet, A Night at Bird/and, val. 1 Clifford Brown (tp), Lou Donaldson (as), Horace Silver (p), Curly Russell (h), Art Blakey (d), February 21, 1954, Birdland, New York City 0:00- 0:58 (Marquette's introduction) and 0:00- 1:05 (Blakey, "Split Kick") Sonny Rollins Quartet, The Essential Sonny Rollins: The RCA Years Sonny Rollins (ts), Herbie Hancock (p), Ron Carter (b), Roy McCurdy (d), February 14, 1964, New York City 0:00-0:09 3. I Thought About You Miles [)avis Quintet, The Complete Concert: 1964 Miles Davis (tp), George Coleman (ts), Herbie Hancock (p), Ron Carter (h), Tony Williams (p), February 12, 1964, Philharmonic Hall, Lincoln Center, New York City 0:00-1:13 4. Hotter Than That Louis Armstrong and His Hot Five, The Hot Fiues and Hot Sevens, vol. 3 Louis Armstrong (cor, voc), Kid Ory (tb), Johnny Dodds (d), Lil Armstong (p), Johnny St. Cyr (bj), Lonnie Johnson (gt), December 13, 1927, Chicago 0:00-2:16 5. Cherokee Clifford Brown-Max Roach Quintet, Clifford Brown's Fittest Hour Clifford Brown (tp), Harold Land (ts), Richie Powell (p), George Morrow (h), Max Roach (d), February 25, 1955, New York City 0:00-2:48 �BARBERA 6. Segue In C (Alternate) 7. Segue in C (Alternate) 27 Count Basie Orchestra, Basie at Bird/and Thad Jones, Sonny Cohn, Lennie Johnson, Snooky Young (tp), Quentin Jackson, Henry Coker, Benny Powell (tb), Marshall Royal (cl, as), Frank \Vess (as, ts, fl, arr), Frank Foster, Budd Johnson (ts), Count Basie (p), Freddie Green (gt), Eddie Jones (b), Sonny Payne (d), June 27, 1961, Bird land, New York City 1:04-3:28 Count Basie Orchestra 3:02-3:12 8. Now's The Time Charlie Parker Quartet, The Essential Charlie Parker Charlie Parker (as), AI Haig (p), Percy Heath (b), Max Roach (d), July 28, 1953, Fulton Recording Studio, New York City 0:00-0:37 9. Now's The Time Sonny Rollins Quartet 0:00 -1:40 10. Now's The Time Sonny Rollins Quartet 0:36-0:52 11. Now's The Time Sonny Rollins Quartet 0:00-0:15 12. Now's The Time Art Blakey Quintet, A Night at Bird/and, vol. 2 0:00- 1:39 13. Now's The Time Sonny Rollins Quartet 0:36-1:10 14. Segue inC (Alternate) Count Basic Orchestra 3:02-3:12 Play List To locate the music examples on www.rhapsody.com, search by album title, then by song title. Album Title Song Title Basie At Birdland Segue In C (Alternate Take) Clifford Brown's Finest Hour Cherokee The Complete Concert: 1964 I Thought About You The Essential Charlie Parker Now's The Time The Essential Sonny Rollins: The RCA Years Now's The Time �28 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW The Hot Fives And Hot Sevens, Vol. 3 Hotter Than That A Night At Birdland, Vol. 1 Announcement Marquette A Night At Birdland, Vol. 1 Split Kick A Night At Birdland, Vol. 2 Now's The Time Appendix 2 Swing Eighths Triplets Now's The Time by Pee Wee �BARBERA 29 Rollins, 2:5-8 Rollins, head 5-8 Blakey and Silver, head 5-8 Notes 1 Here is Pee \Y/ee Marquette's introduction: "Ladies and Gentlemen, as you know, we have something special down here at Birdland this evening, a recording for Blue Note Records. \Vhcn you applaud for the different passages, your hands goes right over the records there, so when they play 'em over and over, throughout the country, you may be some place, and uh say: 'Well, that's my hands on one of those records that I dug down at Birdland.' We're bringing back to the bandstand at this time, ladies and gentlemen, the great Art Blakey and his wonderful group, featuring the new trumpet sensation, Clifford Brown; Horace Silver on piano; Lou Donaldson on alto, Curly Russell is on bass. And let's get together and bring Art Blakey to the bandstand with a great big round of applause. How 'bout a big hand, there, for Art Blakey. Thank y' all." �30 2 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW Jazz: Its Evolution and Essence (1956; rev. ed., New York: Grove Press, 1979), 195 and 198. 3 I presume that the recording was made over the course of the last night of the engagement because this specific collection of five musicians was not a working group. Horace Silver recalls the recording lasting for two nights over the weekend rather than one (HS 12/20/96). [This format indicates the date of conversations between the author and Lou Donaldson (LD) and Horace Silver (HS).] Other sources indicate one night's recording. In 1975, Michael Cuscuna discovered four takes previously ignored or unknown. These were issued on a separate record as Volume 3 (BNJ 61002). In addition there are according to Cuscuna four "rejected takes, some not even complete on tape-never to come out." (Personal correspondence, 1996) The current two-volume set of CDs contains all preserved material except for the rejected takes (Blue Note CDP 7 46519 2, DIDX 1130 and CDP 7 46520 2, DIDX 1131). 4 (HS 12/20/96). Lou Donaldson remembers Marquette serving the function of 'policeman', who had his hands full keeping the often-rowdy audience in check (LD 12/18/96). 5 Bill Crow, From Bird/and to Broadway (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), 88. 6 The harmonic sequence underlying the piece is 'borrowed' from another song, "There Will Never Be Another You" by Harry \Varren and Mack Gordon. It is quite common among jazz musicians to compose a piece by adding a new theme or melody to the harmonies of a popular song, and this procedure in itself would not seem to disqualify a work from greatness. 7 Ted Gioia, The Imperfect Art: Reflections 011 Jazz and Modem Culture (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988), 108-109. Gioia quotes Andy Warhol: "I like to be bored." The author adds: "That much-if not most-jazz is boring seems scarcely undeniable; given its extreme dependence on improvisation, jazz is more likely than other arts to ramble, to repeat, to bore." 8 Personal correspondence, June 26, 2005. 9 The same holds for "\Vee-Dot" on A Night at Bird/and. Marquette says, "How 'bout a big hand, for Art Blakey, Art Blakey and his wonderful allstar[s]." But the recording documents show that this version of "\VeeDot" was recorded in the middle of a set. 10 "What Makes Jazz Jazz?" Musings: The Musical \Vorlds of Gunther Schuller: A Collection of His Writings (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986), 27. This is a talk given by Schuller at Carnegie Hall on Dec. 3, 1983. " ... jazz is, unlike many other musical traditions both �BARBERA 31 European and ethnic/non·Western, a music based on the free unfettered expression of the individual. This last is perhaps the most radical and most important aspect of jazz, and that which differentiates it so dramatically from most other forms of music-making on the face of the globe ... so typically American and democratic .. .I would like particularly to dwell on one dear way in which jazz distinguishes itself from almost all other musical expressions ... and that is the way jazz musicians play their instruments, with particular regard to the aspect of sonority, timbre, and tone color., 1l The internet addresses for (1)- (3) and (5) are given here; (4) is no longer available. www.terellstafford.com/main.html www.bobjanuary.com/favorite.httn www. woodyshaw.com/downbeat 1_cberg. pdf#search =%22Woody%20Sha w%20DownBeat%22 http://cornchipsandpie.blogspot.com/2006/05/chunky-nuggets.html 12 Portions of the Rite of Spring apparently came from Stravinsky playing around on the piano. Conversely, jazz musicians repeat solos, a famous example being Coleman Hawkins's "Body and Soul," the thinking being that if you have come up with a good solo, why mess with it. Lou Donaldson admitted to engaging in an activity nearly the opposite to learning one's solos (LD 7/8/96). In response to my question regarding whether he practiced his instrument any longer, he said "No." Rather, he has worked out a way of practicing on stage, at gigs. He plays songs in a variety of keys and tempos, which amounts to practice. 13 Gioia, The Imperfect Art, 55 and 101. 14 Interview by Studs Terkel of Big Bill Broonzy (vocal), Sonny Terry (harmonica), and Brownie McGhee (guitar), "Keys to the Highway," May 7, 1957, Chicago, WFMT. 15 Ibid. 16 Indeed another composer, Andy Gibson, combined the riff with a simple melody to make "The Hucklebuck/' a popular dance and recording of the late 1940s. 17 The Real Book, vol. 2, 2nd ed. (Milwaukee: Hal Leonard Corporation, no date), 293. The written example includes only the melody and not the indicated harmonization. 18 Tone 6 substitutes for tone 5, a slight extension of normal movement. Tone 2 does not substitute for tone 1 but rather points to it. Tone 2 specifies the end while at the same time leaving open the possibility of additional choruses, a possibility that is realized by the piano choruses and two subsequent choruses on saxophone. �32 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW 19 The head appears on the upper staff and Rollins's solo on the lower staff. 20 Rollins had been working on "Now's the Time." Three weeks earlier, Jan. 24, 1964, he recorded the piece with the same musicians. That recording lasts sixteen minutes, four times longer than the one under consideration. In some ways, it sounds like practice for the real thing. My version of the Jan. 24 recording seems to be pitched in the key of B! And even if it is in B-flat, the range for Rollins is a fifth above the range for the Feb. 14 recording. Note also that Hancock only camps in the Jan. 24 recording, and does very little of that, in the course of the sixteen minutes, perhaps another indication that this is an experiment in the key of B major. 21 Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Random House, 1966), 213. Necessity and "freedom of the will" become one in artists. �33 Preformationism In Biology: From Homunculi To Genetic Programs 1- Jorge H. Aigla, M.D. I. Introduction Organic beings come to be. The way in which they do so has been subject to much speculation and debate. In this paper I shall review some of the ideas put forth regarding generation, and argue that ways of thinking and seeing in the study of development have had weighty influence on other areas of biology. II. Development I should begin with what is perhaps the most notorious image in all of biology: that of a human sperm containing a miniature organism (Figure 1). I use the word "image" advisedly, as this is not a drawing of what is seen, nor a schematic diagram of an object, simplified in order to aid understanding. Nicolas Hartsoeker produced it in his 1694 Essay de Dioptrique. 1 We would do well to study it attentively: it has detail, definition, there is no blurriness, and it depicts a familiar form. It wishes to suggest that a preformed microscopic human individual is already present, complete, in the male Jorge H. Aigla, M.D., has been a Tutor at St. John's College in Santa Fe since 1985. This essay is a modified version of a Friday Night Lecture originally delivered in Santa Fe on December 6, 2002. The lecture was dedicated to two friends and retiring coileagues: Hans Von Briesen, Director of Laboratories, and to the late Ralph Swentzell, Tutor. I again dedicate this essay to them. The author acknowledges his indebtedness to Professor Richard Lewontin of the Museum of Comparative Zoology at Harvard University for his close reading of the essay followed by his helpful and insightful comments and suggestions. �34 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW sex cell. This type of what would come to be known as "preformationism" is really a 111<Jrphological pre-existence of a miniaturized adult homunculus. It rests folded, patiently, apparently peacefully, and it is already developed. Once presumably created, this future being is simply "awaiting the hour of its birth." 2 All that needs to happen is growth of its parts by accretion. This living being will be engendered, but was not, strictly speaking, reproduced. The image's beauty and suggestiveness (and cuteness) are nonetheless plagued by its unreality: Hartsoeker never saw it, could never have seen it (given the state of microscopical science at his time with absence of corrected objectives for aberration and astigmatism, without oil immersion for increased resolution, and lacking staining techniques for enhanced contrast and visibility), and lastly, no one shall ever be able to see it. It simply does not exist. Hartsoeker himself explicitly says only that perhaps one would see this, if there FIGURE 1 were better instruments. 3 In order to expect to see this, or to be able to claim to have "seen" this cased figurine, several observations and mental conceptions have to come together. We shall take a brief detour in our attempt to understand their confluence. There are two, and only two, options for understanding development: either the future being and its parts exist in smaller form from the very beginning, or the adult parts come �AIGLA 35 to be as products of development from structures that do not originally resemble them in the least. For the former "preformationist" possibility, a miniature form of the future organism is already present, and development is merely unfolding (what was termed in early days "evolution"), with growth of pre-existing morphological entities. Marcelo Malpighi (who had discovered with the aid of the microscope the capillaries in the lung just four years after William Harvey's death-1661) was the earliest proponent of this view, and gave us several drawings in 1673,4 where the baby chick is all there, from the start. One may be tempted to disregard this view as nonsensical, but consider: how is one to explain an apparent gelatinous blob of unformed matter in the egg, giving rise to and becoming a chick (or a salamander)? The puzzle of development was solved (in a way) with the preformationist hypothesis, and it was explained in purely mechanical terms: unfolding and enlargement of pre-existing components. The alternative, so it seemed to Malpighi and his followers, would have to postulate a mysterious directiveness to the process of development, a vital and, to them, non-material force. Two thousand years earlier Aristotle clearly understood the two possibilities, and perspicuously argued against preformationism: "How will the foetus become greater by addition of something else if that which is added remain unchanged? But if that which is added can change, then why not say that the semen from the very first is of such a kind that blood and flesh can be made out of it, instead of saying that it itself is blood and flesh?" 5 And wondering how parts of the embryo get made, he asserts: Either all the parts, as heart, lung, liver, eye, and all the rest, come into being together, or in succession, as is said in the verse ascribed to Orpheus, for there he says that an animal comes into being in the same way as the knitting of a net. That the former (parts coming into being simulta- �36 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW neously) is not the fact is plain even to the senses, for some parts are clearly visible already existing in the embryo, while others are not. 6 This argument of his is one of temporal succession in what one observes. He concludes: "If the whole animal or plant is formed from seed or semen, it is impossible that any part of it should exist ready made in the semen or seed .... " 7 In addition, his logical division of bodies into matter with form inseparable from it, makes possible the whole doctrine of epigenesis: the possibility of pattern emergent as a process, like plaiting a net or painting a picture. Aristotle does not address the further impossible consequence of the preformationists: not only is the organism pre-existent, but in this already formed being, all of its descendants have to be present -the so-called theory of encasement or fitting. Trying to make clear the way in which matter and form jointly come to be in the embryo, Aristotle wrote that "the female contributes the material for the semen to work upon"' and that the semen communicates to the material body of that embryo the power of movement and form.' In this formulation Aristotle is simply being consistent with his notion that "the mover or agent will always be the vehicle of the form," 10 and also with his conception that "that which produces the form is always something that possesses it." 11 So the male provides "the form," what seems to be at once formal, efficient, and final cause, and the female contributes the material cause. Malpighi and Hartsoeker seem to be have clung to these latter statements of Aristotle, but appear to have disregarded the same author's foregoing arguments against preformationism. For Aristotle the semen provides the form for the embryo, not the formed embryo. Another factor that must have helped Hartsoeker believe one should eventually be able to see what he delineated is the observation by Anton van Leeuwenhoek of spermatozoa in semen in 1680 {which he likened to "animalcules") through �37 AIGLA his microscope (Figure 2), which apparently was able to magnify specimens 270 timesY It should not be forgotten that a cell theory (of which I shall speak presently) did not yet exist for Hartsoeker-it would take 150 years for spermatozoa to be identified as cells by Kolliker in 1841. In any preparation of human semen, seen with the very best available optics, the folded foetus cannot be seen; it can only be imagined. In critical microscopy work, it is difficult for the eye to see what the mind does not know, and the eyes may well be blinded by what the mind knows. Further, the eyes, at times, may see what the mind desires. Hartsoeker's homunculus is a beautiful example of what I would call wishful proleptic observation being fitted to preconceived theoretical commitments. Malebrauche has described this mode of operation: "The mind should not stop at what the eye sees, for the vision of the mind is far more penetrating than the vision of the eye." 13 I beg to differ, and would venture to say, by contrast, that seeiug with the eye of reasou may not be the best way of looking. Seeing is a complicated 8 FIGURE 2 1 �38 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW matter. Observation is colored by expectation and theory (preconception). It may not be possible to encounter scientific "facts" as data, objectively discovered. The wish to see something may often well determine what is "discovered." One could hardly blame Hartsoeker for providing us with his famous image, notwithstanding the fact that he was not adhering to the dictum our students are repeatedly urged to follow: "Make sure you do not merely find what you are looking for!" Preformationism does not have to deal with the formidable problem of development as such, and Hartsoeker sided with the "spermist" sub-school in wishing to find the miniature organism in the male seed (the other school being the "ovist"). Another microscopist, Wolff, in 17 64, described "globules" in animal tissues, and when he aimed his good instrument (by the day's standards) at the developing chick egg, he saw no minuscule baby chick; and in cross section, he discerned layers of spherical structures that eventually gave rise (or differentiated) to an embryonic organism. He opposed the preformationists, and his "epigenesis!" school taught that development started from an entirely homogeneous and unformed mass, acted on by an extraneous forcea "vis essentialis" (a force related to being alive). The camps had been set, and preformationism with its purely mechanistic tendencies, seemed to have been forever discredited, in favor of an epigenetic process of differentiation, that in its inception embraced a form of vitalism, and left us with the gargantuan problem of true development. III. Cell Theory That the development of the cell theory itself was influenced by other theories in biology is not widely recognized. Of course atomistic speculations from the physical sciences played a role; but there is more. �AlGLA 39 c In 1665 Robert Hooke had observed pores and box-like structures in cork, which he christened "cells," but he said nothing of their possible biological meaning. Schleiden, studying plant tissues, attempted to explain what he saw in strictly physico-chemical terms. A good biologist, he knew of Wolff's publications and eliminated preformationism altogether from anatomy and embryology. He applied what must have seemed to him "epigenetic" considerations to cell formation and development, and in 1838 summarized his work 14 (see Figure 3 15 ). He could illafford to think that cells came from cells (which sounded too much like preformationism), so cells had themselves to develop. He made the cell nucleus (discovered by Robert Brown five years earlier) the center of cell formation, calling it the "cytoblast." The nucleus itself (or the nucleolus, as his writings are unclear on this point) separated out of the formative fluid (the "cytoblastema") by a sort of precipitation in a "mother liquor," and only then, about it condensed the rest of the cell (the cytoplasm) and its membrane. He emphasized that plants consist exclusively and entirely of cells and their products, and an early version of the cell theory was born. �40 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW Notice that for Schleiden cells are mostly structural elements and without physiological import, nor is there a continuity of cells or of life in a precise sense. Also, we must remark, this epigenetic cellular thinking fits well with spontaneous generation. Schwann, a colleague of Schleiden, accepted this theory of cell formation, and he deserves credit for extending it to animals in 1839. 16 He also added some thoughts about function and metabolism to this intermediate cell theory. Schwann described the formation of blood corpuscles in excruciating detail, ascribing also to the precipitated or crystallized nucleus the power of cell formation de novo. Let us pause and regard the engraving of Figure 3. After much consideration I have come to the conclusion that cells just do not look like this, and I say so after carefully studying many different plant tissues, and having studied for over three decades animal tissues nuder the microscope. The only thing that resembles to any degree this illustration are figures of the special form of cell death called apoptosis. Apoptosis is programmed cell death, was characterized by the pathologist Kerr in 1972, 17 and is now one of the most widely studied genetic molecular phenomena. Cells that die due to a genetically programmed mechanism in apoptosis show nuclear shrinkage, condensation, fragmentation, and in contrast to other forms of cell death (necrosis), exhibit no inflammatory response. Could Schleiden and Schwann have seen apoptosis and interpreted it with the eye of their cellular epigenetic framework? That is, did they take dying cells for cells forming? It is impossible to tell, as this type of cell death apparently plays a minor role, if at all, in plant tissues. Or could perhaps their preparations have had bad fixation and poor staining, and they be describing artifacts? This is unlikely. What is possible for me to tell in reference to Schwann's writings on blood cell formation, is that he was imposing a chronological order on what he saw statically, thinking the nucleus of red cells came before their membrane and cytoplasm, whereas the order of development is precisely �AIGLA 41 the opposite: the nucleus of red cells becoming smaller and eventually being extruded, Schwann inferred, with the aid of the imagination, a dynamic sequence of events in fixed tissues, and he erred. He wished what he saw to depict and imply what he wanted. It is intriguing that the conceptual frame of epigenesis, and the disproval of preformationism by Wolff in embryology, carried over into cell theory, retarding it and giving it an originally erroneous mechanism for cell genesis. This mistake was brilliantly dispelled by the pathologist Virchow. In 1860, twelve years after Schleiden and Schwann, he defined the cell as "the ultimate morphological and functional element in which there is any manifestation of life. " 18 For Virchow all cells (including abnormal ones like those found in cancer growths) do come from pre-existing cells, and he rightly saw Schleiden and Schwann's theory of free cell formation as nothing but an avatar of de novo spontaneous generation; and this, before Pasteur's work of 1860 and 1864, disproving once and for all the discontinuity of life. At last the cell theory developed into its mature form, and a unity underlying the diversity of living organisms was established. The word "Biology" (coined by Lamarck and Treviranus) now, finally, became meaningful. The capping of the cell theory comes with Walter Flemming, 19 who in 1879 described cell division or mitosis: not only did cells come from cells, as Virchow showed, but now all nuclei come from pre-existing nuclei. rv: Modern Embryology Once the sperm and the egg were also recognized to be cells, investigators turned their eyes to the process of fertilization. Hertwig20 in 1876 and 1885 determined that this event is due to the joining of the male and female nuclei. Heredity must then be due to the transmission of a material substance, and the male contributes to the new organism some matter as well as the female (contrary to Aristotle's teachings), and it is the nucleus that is embodying this matter. �42 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW Van Beneden21 in 1883 saw that the colored stubby bodies discovered by Flemming in cell division (and now named chromosomes) played a role in fertilization. Studying the round worm Ascaris megalocepha/us bivalens, which has four chromosomes in each adult cell, he observed that two chromosomes came from the father's sperm and two from the mother's egg, before the new zygote formed and divided. Although he does not say so explicitly, the hereditary substance now seemed to be confined to these nuclear bodies. The chromosomes then, are equally contributed by the parents, and are constant in number for the species. With the recognition that all cells arise from cell division in adults as well as during embryonic development starting with the zygote, the next question tackled was: How do cells become different and give rise to a complex organism? Let us turn to the experimental embryological work of Roux, Driesch, and Spemann and Mangold. Roux 22 destroyed one of the two blastomeres at the two-cell stage in the frog, and got a half-embryo. Notice his experiment constitutes a defect study. He concluded that the potency of a cell equals its fate, and that each cell is self-differentiating, the whole organism being simply the sum of independently developed parts. In a sense, he advocated a preformation of limited, fated, and pre-assigned potentialities, and established embryology as an experimental science of proximate causations and mechanisms. Roux's experimental results ran into difficulties with the work of Driesch. 23 When this investigator separated (not destroyed) one of the blastomeres of the sea urchin at the same two-cell stage, he got a half-sized full embryo. Notice his experiments are isolation studies. These results induced Driesch to embrace an extreme vitalism, postulating a nonmechanical entelechy (Factor E). 24 For what machine, if cut in half, could still function normally? The potency of an early cell is not preformed, and turns out to be much greater than its fate. The resulting half-sized embryo strongly suggests that cells at very early stages of development are �AIGLA 43 pluripotent. Eventually Driesch's thinking, without a mysterious non-material "entelechy," became known as holistic organicism: the organism is more than a mere summation of individual parts added together. The climax of this part of the story comes with Spemann and Mangold25 who in 1924 showed that a portion of tissue from a newt embryo could induce the formation and production of other tissues, even of an incomplete new newt, in a recipient. Developmental possibilities, then, are not totally preformed, and many events in morphogenesis must be the result of cell-to-cell interactions. It must be emphasized that in Roux's experiments the killed cell remained attached to the viable one, and the developing embryo did not "sense" this cell was dead. If the killed cell had been separated, as in the work of Dreisch, the embryo would then have compensated (regulated) its development into a (smaller) whole embryo. Driesch's work reveals that a developing organism is a whole, and that its plan for differentiation at any time and stage of its embryology lies in the totality of its being. This does not mean that any and every alteration in a part of an organism will interfere with the normal development of the rest of the complete organism-this would be a claim of an extreme form of wholism. The developmental process is a regulative one, where the embryo has the ability to grow normally even when some portions are removed or rearranged. The embryo is a "harmonious equipotential system"26 because all the potentially independent parts function together to form an organism. Driesch's concept of "regulation" implies that cells must interact with each other in complex ways, and the work of Spemann and Mangold demonstrates that one tissue can direct the development of another neighboring tissue. The small grafted region in their experiments was called "The Organizer" since it controls the organization of the complete embryonic body. The organizer is a piece of tissue; tissues are made up of cells; cells contain nuclei with chromosomes within. �44 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW V. Chromosomes Mendel's work was published in 1865, and only unearthed in 1900, after much embryological and cytological work had been performed. Shortly after the re-discovery, in 1902 Boveri 27 united the sciences of embryology and cytology. In his experiments he demonstrated that normal development depends not on the number of chromosomes per se, but in the normal combination of a complete set of these structures. He managed to fertilize a sea urchin egg with two sperms, so three sets of chromosomes became apportioned to four cells after the second zygotic division. The chromosomes were distributed asymmetrically, by chance, to the daughter cells. When these cells were gently separated and allowed to develop, only those with at least one whole set of chromosomes gave rise to a normal individual. Furthermore, the abnormal embryos were abnormal in different ways. His conclusion was seminal: chromosomes are functional individuals, that is, each chromosome must possess (and give rise to) different qualities. The same year brought the work of the American Walter Sutton, 28 who painstakingly documented the continuity and, �AIGLA 45 more importantly, the distinct individuality and physiological singularity of chromosomes in the Giant grasshopper. Figure 4 shows his most elegant camera Iucida drawings (not diagrams or photographs) of chromosome groups. They are unprecedented and unequaled, even when compared to modern ones, in resolution and accuracy. Chromosomes are then continuous in a given species from one generation to another, from one cell to its descendants, and are also morphological individuals one from another. They are the preformed material substrate for heredity and development in living organisms. In truth, the chromosomal theory of inheritance, meaning that chromosomes are the bearers of hereditary factors or traits, had been established by Boveri and Sutton. But some biologists wanted stronger, unequivocal evidence or proof. Thomas Hunt Morgan, a senior colleague of Sutton at Columbia University, was originally trained as an embryologist, and of course, detested any suggestion of preformationism. He was "an experimentalist at heart" (his own words) and very much disliked inferences in biology. 29 From the start he opposed the chromosomal theory of heredity, since to ascribe to chromosomes the ability to confer character traits must have carried the vice of preformationism for him. We must add that the controversy over what had exclusive responsibility for hereditary development, either the nucleus itself or the cytoplasm instead, was not yet totally settled. Furthermore, Morgan's opposition stood despite the fact that sex determination seemed by then to be caused, quite clearly, by chromosomes. When he turned to genetics, studying the fruit fly Drosophila, Morgan was unconvinced that a strict association between specific characters and specific chromosomes existed. He read in the work of Boveri and of Sutton only a parallel behavior, during cell division and fertilization, of chromosomes and Mendelian traits. His apprehensions may strike us as peculiar but are not altogether awkward: it is indeed strange to suggest that the shape or color of an organ �46 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW in a living being was preformed in some as yet mysterious way, in these stubby colored structures known as chromosomes. Although we do not have now, as with Hartsoeker, any preexistence of a complete homunculus, our eye meets preformed materials that are passed on and could determine form and function. Morgan's paper of 1910 30 is extraordinary in many ways. In no other does one see the struggle an author is undergoing in arriving at an inevitable conclusion that contradicts his previous beliefs. He prevents himself throughout from even using the word "chromosome"; he establishes that the traits for sex and white eye color are "combined," but avoids calling them physically linked. He refutes his own distrust and establishes the chromosomal theory of inheritance by demonstrating that one specific character corresponds to the behavior of one specific "factor" (later shown to be a chromosome, visible under the microscope). Fortunately in this case, and unlike in the history of cell theory, the suspicion against preformationism did not retard progress in genetics. Morgan himself was soon converted, becoming one of the staunch advocates for ascribing to chromosomes their genetic role through his further work and that of his students, particularly Sturtevant and Bridges (who provided direct proof of the chromosomal theory of inheritance in a most difficult paper). VI. The Genetic Program Chromosomes were found to be constituted largely of deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA). DNA was shown to be the material responsible for conferring visible (phenotypic) traits. 31 The molecular structure of DNA was determined in 1953,32 and soon after the language of the genetic code. DNA is the preformed element in natural living beings, and it controls development-to a degree. In other words, development could be said to be preformational as regards genes and their hereditary influences, but rigorously epigenetic in actual constructional activities from undifferentiated begin- �AIGLA 47 nings. And this leads us to the concept of the so-called "genetic program," and to new problems and questions. There are really two problems that both genetics and embryology must address in order to get an adult organism from a fertilized egg: cells becoming different (differentiation) and cells producing shapes (morphogenesis). Both processes appear to be directed, and with the rise of information theory and the knowledge of the molecular biology of instructions and mechanisms for protein coding by the DNA base triplets, the notion of a genetic program is quite reasonable. What exactly do biologists mean by a genetic program? Where is it coded? And if it is coded in DNA, how so? First, the program is one of combinations of three molecules (bases) determining an amino acid, and about three hundred of these amino acids specifying an average protein. If the genetic program has a language, the alphabet is made up of single bases. It must be noted that a protein is not even completely specified by its amino acid sequence, originally coded by the DNA. The intracellular environment plays a role in the final folded stable state of proteins, and every protein has alternate stable states. The future shape of a string of amino acids is "open," and the actual final configuration only "closes" through environmental conditions." Secondly, the genetic program must be an open one. Evidence for this was provided one hundred years ago by Harrison, 34 who observed independent differentiation in nerve fiber outgrowth from single cells. Frog protoplasmic fibers extended from nerve cell bodies into any region where frog lymph was present in a Petri dish (in vitro)-a result not consistent with a rigidly preordained genetic program. That the program is modifiable and plastic is obvious from the experimental results of Spemann and Mangold, and from recent work with stem cells. Also, the phenomena of regeneration of limbs in some animals, of memory and of learning, imply that the program is not rigid, yet has some specificity. 35 It is worth emphasizing that both-cell differentiation and �48 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW morphogenesis-are the result not only of a genetic program, but also of what some have appropriately designated as a "somatic program," consisting of the whole embryo at any particular time and stage. 36 Neighboring cells and their respective positions cause and induce changes in cell shape, adhesion, motility, migration and function, and in the shape of organs and of the organism as a whole. The program is not a "recipe" for the final product; environmental information and random developmental noise enter into a notcompletely-determined process." Lastly, it is essential that the program turned out to be not a descriptive program, as was thought previously (specifying what the cell or the whole organism will look like), but instead a program of instructions describing how to make an organism. 38 Consider a structure in origami. A set of data completely specifying its final configuration would be extremely difficult to collect, and would not at all explain how to achieve the end form. It is much easier to formulate instructions on how to fold a piece of paper; simple instructions about folding have complex spatial consequences. In the same way during development, gene action sets in motion sequences of events that can bring about profound changes in the embryo. If the program were the full description of the organism, modern molecular biologists could rail again, this time with an ultramicroscopic intonation, against preformationism. This generative program of instructions is carried out on an epigenetic basis, and the road from DNA to proteins to phenotype is extremely complicated and tortuous." It is also the case that the environment can influence, to a great degree, the variable expression of the genetic program. 40 The embryo not so much develops as emerges from the fertilized egg; it reveals itself, and one may be tempted to say that it is almost evoked. For some modern molecular biologists like Changeaux (a famous collaborator with Jacob and Monod), any talk of a developmental program is pointless, 41 and he wishes to dispense with the term altogether, placing exclusive emphasis �AIGLA 49 on epigenetic processes. He arrives at this (to me) extreme view from his work on the development of neural connections in the nervous system (a sophisticated extension of Harrison's work), where much plasticity occurs. This malleability is only to be expected, so why is Changeaux so much against the concept of a program? I am afraid that a specter is haunting him: the specter of preformationism. Rightly understood, a genetic program need not totally determine and predict exactly what the precise shape of a given nerve cell or of a nervous system with its billions of synaptic connections, or of a whole vertebrate, will be. No animal or plant is fully shaped and entirely determined by its DNA. In this sense, living beings are not absolutely predictable and may never be "computable. "42 Speaking of a genetic program does make sense, especially if one considers that this program is an historically evolved one, 43 and does not provide an unalterable architectural blueprint, but only a set of instructions for·the construction of a living being, and at the same time, the means to carry it out. Prominent developmental and molecular biologists have recently wondered whether we "understand" development at all. 44 The implications for a philosophy of biology are deep; what seems to be at stake is our understanding of the concept of "understanding" itself. It has become nearly impossible to discern or even expect any broad general principles in embryology,45 and there may be not mnch more to explain than what is observed. 46 We have an alphabet (nucleotide bases) and words for development (triplets coding for amino acids that make up proteins). What appears to be wanting, and has so far remained elusive, is a "grammar of development." 47 My guess is that this will not be forthcoming merely from the completed human genome project that ascribes to portions of DNA in different chromosomes the coding for the various proteins that help constitute a living organism. The foregoing discussion should result in a change in conceptualization in the posing of the problem of differentiation and development. The old "classical" question was: �50 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW "How does an apparently homogenous, small ball of yolkladen cytoplasm with a nucleus, turn into a large, complicated, highly organized adult with fully functioning organs?" Now we had better ask: "How does the encoded structure, compressed into the specialized maternal organ-the eggbecome transformed into the realized structure of an adult organism?"48 VII. Epilogue I have attempted to investigate the role of an idea, preformationism, in several areas of biology: developmental anatomy, cell theory, the chromosomal theory of inheritance, and the concept of a genetic program. Beholding an egg should remind us that it embodies, for Aristotle, a world of explanation. It should be apparent that for us, one of the greatest mysteries lies hidden within, and what is more, comes out of it. Notes 1 Nicolas Hartsoekcr, Essay de Dioptrique (Paris, 1694), 230. 2 F. Jacob, The Logic of Life (Princeton, Nj: Princeton University Press, 1993), 20. 3 Hartsoeker, Essay de Dioptrique, 229. 4 L. \'V'olpert et alia, Principles of Development (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), 3. 5 Aristotle, On the Generation of Animals, Bk. I, Ch. 8, 723a15-20, A. Platt, trans., in The Complete \Vorks of Aristotle, ed. J. Barnes (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1984). 6 Ibid., Bk. II, Ch. 1, 734a16-22. 7 Ibid., 734a33-35. 8 Ibid., 729a29-32. 9 Ibid., 729b5-8. 10 Aristotle, Physics, Bk. Ill, Ch. 2, 202a9. R.P. Hardie and R.K. Gayc, trans., in The Complete \Vorks of Aristotle, ed. Princeton University Press, 1984). 11 Ibid., Bk. VIJJ, Ch. 5, 257b10. J. Barnes (Princeton, NJ: �51 AIGLA 12 E. Mayr, The Growth of Biological Thought (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1982), 138. 13 Nicholas Malcbranche, De fa recherche de Ia 1700), 48. verite, Vol. I, (Paris, 14 M.J. Schleidcn, Contributions to Phytogenesis, H. Smith, trans. (London: for the Sydenham Society, 1847 [orig. 1838]). 15 R. Virchow, Cellular Pathology (London: John Churchill, 1860), 10 (Figure 4). 16 T. Schwarm, Microscopical Researches into the Structure and Growth of Animals and Plants, H. Smith, trans. (London: for the Sydenham Society, 1847 [orig. 1839]). 17 ]. F. R. Kerr ct alia, "Apoptosis: A Basic Biological Phenomenon with long-ranging Implications in Tissue Kinetics," British Journal of Cancer, 26 (1972): 239. 18 Virchow, Cellular Pathology, 3. 19 In B.P. Voeller, The Chromosome Theory of Iuheritance (New York: Appleton Century Crofts, 1968), 43-47. 20 In Voeller, The Chromosome Theory of Inheritance, 4-8; 26-33. 21 Ibid., 54-59. 22 In B.H. \Villier and J.M. Oppenheimer, Foundations of Experimental Embryology (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1964), 2-28. 23 In \Villier and Oppenheimer, Foundations of Experimental Embryology, 38-50. 24 Hans Dreisch, The Science and Philosophy of the Organism, vol. I (London: Adam and C. Black, 1907). 25 In \Vrllier and Oppenheimer, Foundations of Experimental Embryology, 144-184. 26 Hans Dreisch, The Science and Philosophy of the Organism. 27 In \'\i'iliier and Oppenheimer, Foundations of Experimental Embryology, 74-90. 28 W. Sutton, "On the Morphology of the Chromosome Group in Brachystola Magna," Biological Bulletin IV, no. 1 (1902): 24-39. 29 S.F. Gilbert, "In Friendly Disagreement: Wilson, Morgan and the Embryological Origins of the Gene Theory," American Zoologist 27 (1987): 797-806; S.F. Gilbert, "The Embryological Origins of the Gene Theory," Journal of the History of Biology II, no. 2 (1978): 307-351. �THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW 52 30 T.H. Morgan, "Sex Limited Inheritance in Drosophilia, '' Science XXXII, no. 812 (1910): 120-122. 31 O.T. Avery, CJv1 Macleod, and M. McCarty, journal of Experimental Medicine 79 (1944): 137-158. 31 J.D. \Vatson and F.H.C. Crick, "Molecular Structure of Nucleic Acids," Nature 171 (1953): 737-738. 33 D. Whitford, "Protein folding in vivo and in vitro," in Proteins: Structure and Function (Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley and Sons, 2005). 34 R.G. Harrison, "Observations on the Living Developing Nerve Fiber," Anatomical Record 1 (1907): 116-118. 35 E. Mayr, "Cause and Effect in Biology," Science 134 (1961): 15011506. 36 E. :Niayr, This is Biology (Cambridge, lvlA: Harvard University Press, 1997), 21, 171. 37 R. Lewontin, The Triple Helix: Gene, Organism, and Environment (Cambridge, .MA: Harvard University Press, 2000). 38 \X'olpert, Principles of Development, 21. 39 Science 295 (1 March 2002): 1661-1682, see complete issue. 40 Lewontin, The Triple Helix. 41 J.P. Changeaux, Neuronal Man (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1997), 195. 41 L. \Vol pert, "Development: Is the egg computable or could we generate an angel or a dinosaur?" in M.P. Murphy and L.A.J. O'Neill, What is Life? The Next Fifty Years (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 57-66. 43 .Mayr, "Cause and Effect in Biology"; Mayr, This is Biology. 44 L.Wolpert, "Do We Understand Development?" Science 266 (1994): 571-572. 45 Ibid. 46 R. Lewin, "Why is Development so Illogical?" Science 224 (1984): 1327-1329. 47 Ibid. 48 E. Mayr, "Comments on Theories and Hypotheses in Biology," Boston Studies in Philosophy of Science 5 (1968): 450-456. �53 The Persians and the Parthenon: Yoke and Weave Part Two: The Parthenon 1 Mera J. Flaumenhaft "Who are you and what is your family? .. .How old were you when the Medes came?" Xenophanes 1. The Building and the Polis There are no words on the Parthenon (Figure 1). So in one sense it is true that, unlike Aeschylus's Persians, the building offered Athens a "visual, non verbal" education. 37 But, like every other feature of this logos-loving city, this silent marvel in marble invites all who see it to articulate in words the story-or multiple stories-it too tells about Athens and Persia. The first is the story of the building itself, the story of its building. Like Aeschylus's play, it has its origin in the Persian wars. But its site far predates these events, reminding us of ancient times when Athens was a fortified community centered around a palace monarchy. From its earliest days, Athens, like Persia, shaped and rearranged the natural features of the environment to serve the demands of its communal life. In the early Bronze Age (1300-1200 B.C.), the Mera Flaumenhaft is a tutor at the Annapolis campus of St. John1s College. This essay is in two parts. Part One of this essay appeared in the previous issue of The St. Jolm's Review, volume 50, number 2. Notes are continuous. The photos included in the text are courtesy of Ann M. Nicgorski, Willamette University, 1998. Dr. Nicgorski's excellent collection of images of all the parts of the Parthenon discussed in this essay is available and easy to use at www.willamette.edu/cla/Ytrvicws/parthenon/. For websites and books with a fuller selection of photos, see the Bibliography before the Endnotes. �54 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW FIGURE l (Courtesy of A. Nicgors.ki) Acropolis, "high city," was artificially terraced and shored up by a wall of cut rocks. So old and huge was this rampart that it was called the "Cyclopean" wall; it was said to be the work of a barely-civilized pre-human people, or of the legendary Giants under the direction of Athena, who had defeated them in an early war between the Gods and the Giants. 38 Eventually, the Acropolis above it became the site of a fortified citadel from which the Athenian royal family ruled the surrounding population. Legend also told how Poseidon and Athena long ago vied for primacy in this land. The sea was Poseidon's claim to power; he caused a pool of salt water to appear on the rock. Athena brought forth an olive tree as evidence of her power. The judges ruled that the olive was the more valuable gift and the goddess became the patroness of the city whose name she shared. The incident was memorialized in the pool and the olive that remained in the Erechtheion, one of the earliest temples on the Acropolis. There is a story that, in 480 B.C., on the day after the Persians burned the Acropolis, the men whom Xerxes sent to sacrifice in the shrine fonnd that "the �FLAUMENHAFT 55 olive had put forth from its stump a shoot of about a cubit's length" (Hdt., 8.55). By the early sixth century, the hill was no longer dominated by a royal palace, but had become a major sanctuary, accessible to all by a wide ceremonial ramp that led visitors to a temple with an altar to a small olivewood statue of Athena Polias, that is, "of the city." This carved figure, xoanon, wrapped in her pep/as (robe), remained a focus of civic religious life for centuries. The statue had such close relations with Athens that, like the supposedly autochthonous human population, it was associated with no other earthly place. Its origins were unknown; it was said to have fallen on this spot from the sky, 39 the home of Athena's father, Zeus, on whose unlimited empire Xerxes wished to model his own. Unlike the shadowy legend of the statue's beginnings, the story of the birth of the goddess herself was well known. So, indeed, are those of the other Greek gods. Anthropomorphic in looks and character, these gods are immortal, but not eternal; each came into being, and each is associated with partial aspects of nature or human experience. The story of a god's genesis often points to the characteristic nature of that god. The full divinity of each is most fully expressed when all are considered together. But, unlike Persian multiplication, pantheon does not mean mere aggregate or multiplied strength. Rather, it means a defined plurality in which the elements are related, but differ from, and are even in tension with, each other, and so compose a viable and complete whole. Once again, as we saw in Part One of this essay, the metaphor of well-woven fabric comes to mind. It was predicted that Athena's mother, Metis, whose name means "cunning," "craft," or "counsel," would give birth to a child excelling in these same qualities, one who might rule the world. So Zeus, the child's father, swallowed the pregnant Metis. When the time came, Hephaestus, also crafty and cunning, split Zeus's head with an axe and delivered the baby. And so Athena appeared in the world: full-grown, fully armed, with an extraordinary intelligence, �56 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW the very personification of immediacy, wily craft, and resourcefulness. Not born from a mother, never to be one herself, the maiden, parthenos, became the patron goddess of a city of extraordinary masculine activity, one that excelled not only in physical strength, as evidenced in war, but also in the political arts of public speech and commerce and the technological arts of agriculture, horse chariots, and ships. But this child of her father was patron to women as well. Her craft was manifest in the spinning and weaving of wool, as well as of words. The image of her owl appeared on loom weights that remained indoors, at home, with the women, as well as on the currency exchanged in the open-air Agora below the Acropolis, where men congregated to conduct the commercial affairs of the city. Pallas Athena stood behind the pep/as-weaving women and the spear-carrying warriors whose lives together made a complete human city. The civic fabric of Athens was woven from her arts, equally at work in men and women .. The annual Persian feast to celebrate the Great King's birthday was called "tuktu," that is, "perfection" (teleion, Hdt., 9.11 0). Athens' greatest festival celebrated not the birth of a divinized despot who claimed that he was different from all other men, but that of a civic deity who really was. The meaning of her pep/as, in contrast to Xerxes' in Aeschylus's play, reveals much about the two regimes. 40 There were two related summer festivals devoted to Athena, one involving part of the city and one all of it, both focused on the olivewood image and what she wore. In May, the women celebrated the Plynteria, the "washing rites." Gently undressing and veiling the olivewood Polias, they carried her pep/as to a spring, or perhaps as far as the sea, to launder it. In the meantime, in the Kallynteria, the "adorning rites," the crude and featureless image was prepared to receive the clean garment. She was bathed and oiled and decorated with jewelry. Robed again, she was replaced near her altar in the old temple to await the most important festival of the year, which took place in the following month, and bore her name. �FLAUMENHAFT 57 From as early as the seventh century B.C., the June Panathenaia, the festival of "all Athenians," culminated in a citywide procession in which Athena's people presented her with her annual birthday gift, a new peplos. By the next century the festival included musical and rhapsodic performances, athletic and equestrian contests, and the awarding of tripods, figurines, and large vessels of olive oil to those who excelled in honor of the goddess who brought the olive. The weaving of the peplos for the olivewood statue was begun, appropriately, nine months before the goddess's birthday celebration during a festival of crafts, when the loom's warp-the upright cords-was set up by nine women "workers," ergastinai, from designated aristocratic Athenian families and several seven to nine year old girls dedicated to the service of Athena. These children lived on the Acropolis for the nine months and helped weave the pep/os. This bright purple and yellow, woolen "story-doth" was decorated with a tapestry-like depiction of Athena's exploits in the victory of the Gods over the Giants. As we shall see, the Parthenon, like other Athenian works, repeatedly associates this mythical victory with Athens' historical victory over Persia. In the early celebrations of the Panathenaia, the peplos was a rectangle of about five by six feet and would have fit the human-sized wooden image. Later, it may have been as big as a ship's sail and, like real sails, would have been made by sewing several loom weavings together. 41 The larger peplos was probably made by professional male weavers for the Greater Panathenaia every fourth year 42 and may have been exhibited in the old temple of Athena Polias after the festival. Before that, however, the pep/os was transported, perhaps on a wheeled ship-cart, from the northwest city gate near the Kerameikos district along a processional route to the Agora, to the base of the Acropolis, and then carried up to the top for presentation to the goddess. The ship "float" may have been made from a Persian trireme captured at Salamis. Like the wooden benches in the theater, and the roof and internal decorations of the Odeion, which were made of Persian masts �58 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW and spars,43 it would have been an explicit reminder of the Persian defeat. Again, the analogy of the Spanish Armada makes vivid the attempt to keep an averted disaster literally before one's eyes. In the hall of Gray's Inn in London, a carved wooden screen thought to have come from a flagship in the Spanish Armada has served a similar function for centuries. It was rescued by firemen when the building was badly damaged during the London Blitz and survives today to remind the small island nation of its unlikely survival of both Spanish and Nazi attempts to invade and conquer it. 44 How can we understand the festival fabrication rituals on which this ancient city and its citizens spent so much time and effort and money? Both the weaving and the civic procession are prime examples of the ways in which the democratic polis produced and maintained itself as a civic community. Representatives from all parts of the population-old and young, men and women, citizens and resident aliens, slaves, and workers in many different crafts-participated in the preparations that were overseen by a large number of administrative officials. The weaving at the center of the Panathenaia was thus the occasion for weaving together not only the pep/os, but also the different elements of the Athenian city. The prescribed rituals and legal instructions concerning the workers, places, times, materials, patterns, colors, and the delivery of the woolen cloth occupied the attention of much of the population. One can observe the farreaching effects of such "material" rituals in the building of the ark and tabernacle by the wandering Israelites; it kept them busy and made them obedient, law-abiding, and devoted to what they had worked so hard on. The same effects are aimed at in the annual festival that removes and replaces the K'aaba cover in Mecca, and in Christian processions of a beautifully dressed image of a patron saint, like the annual fiesta for La Conquistadora in Santa Fe, New Mexico. In their outlook and technology, Athenians looked to the new, the future, and change. At the same time these rituals held them to the old, the past, and the recurring. Festival �FLAUMENHAFT 59 preparations and participation compelled these self-sufficient and resourceful citizens to recognize their dependence on what was beyond their control. Free and self-governing, the Athenians on such occasions devoted their powers and resources to obedience to laws and the service of old traditions and gods. If, in celebrating Athena, they were simultaneously celebrating their own achievements and character, the rituals in honor of the goddess seem designed to remind them also of their limitations. By the middle of the fifth century, the birth of Athena Parthenos, her victories over Poseidon and the Giants, her procession, and her peplos would all be pictured on the most outstanding building on the Acropolis. For that fabrication and its effects on the city we must return to the events memorialized in Aeschylus's tragedy. At the battle of Marathon in 490 B.C. a small Athenian army and their allies defeated a massive Persian force that had traveled vast distances by land and sea, transforming even the shape of the lands they traversed, to conquer resisting cities in Greece. 6,400 subjects of the great king died at Marathon. The Athenians lost 192 citizen hoplites. In the aftermath of this unlikely victory, Athens began to build a new temple on the south side of the Acropolis in honor of her patron goddess. This required extending the south platform of the Acropolis, which dropped too steeply to accommodate the planned temple. Although much work had been done, the Marathon Hekatompedon ("hundred-footer" temple) was still unfinished when the Persians returned under Xerxes in 480. This time they reached Athens itself and burned the entire city, including the unfinished temple. Before the Persians arrived, almost the entire population of Athens had been evacuated to Troezen and to the nearby islands of Aegina and Salamis, to which they probably brought the olivewood image of their goddess. 45 As Aeschylus reminds his Athenian audience, the religious and political life of the polis lay not in its streets and buildings, but in the characteristic activities and attitudes of its citizens. The boule (council) �60 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW continued to meet at Salamis, even as those it governed saw smoke rising from the burning buildings and their contents, including the peploi of former years, 46 on the Acropolis. A year after Xerxes' defeat at Salamis, the force that had remained in Greece with the Persian general Mardonins was decisively smashed by the Athenians and their allies at the battle of Plataea. Here the story of the Parthenon almost ended, for after the victory the Greek allies took an oath: I will not set life before freedom ... having conquered the barbarians in the war .. .I will not rebuild any of the temples that have been burnt and destroyed by the barbarian, but I will let them be left as a memorial to those who come after of the sacrilege of the barbarian. 47 This way of remembering through preserving ruins is seen in the preserved parts of the cathedral the Nazis destroyed at Coventry and was urged in recent deliberations about what, if anything, should replace New York skyscrapers destroyed by twenty-first century barbarians. The rubble in Athens was left to lie or was used haphazardly in the hasty fortification and reconstruction of the city. But in the repaired north wall of the Acropolis some of the column drums from the unfinished temple to Athena were deliberately placed so that they could be seen from the restored Agora, the marketplace, below. These pillars remain on view today. Thucydides tells the story of the recovery of the victorious, but destroyed, city of Athens (1.89-108). Domestic and civic buildings were rebuilt, and the port at Piraeus was laid out and fortified. Despite Lacedaemonian objections, long walls were built to the sea, and the Athenian naval force was expanded. Most of the Aegean and coastal cities became allies of Athens in the Delian League to keep the seas open and to discourage future Persian invasions. Before long, the allies preferred, and were encouraged, to give money to Athens and let it build the ships necessary to protect them all. These cities �FLAUMENHAFT 61 soon found themselves members of an alliance that was rapidly coming to be dominated by its strongest city. In 454 B.C. the League's treasury was moved from Delos to Athens. When peace was concluded with Persia in 449 B.C., the Athenians summoned all the Greeks to a general assembly to discuss future safety and to reconsider the Plataean oath not to rebuild sacred places. One consideration was to be that the Greek allies had failed to sacrifice to the gods who had saved them from the Persians. Pressured by the Lacedamonians, who declined to attend, and resenting the growing power of Athens, no other League members showed up, and Athens decided unilaterally to continue policing the seas and collecting tribute. At this point Pericles proposed rebuilding and enlarging Athena's temple on the Acropolis. His oligarchic enemies in the assembly objected to spending the money of the Delian League for an Athenian project, charging that they would be "gilding and bedizening our city .. .like a wanton woman [who] adds to her wardrobe precious stones and costly statues and temples worth their millions" (Plut. Pericles, Xll}. 48 Pericles countered that the allies were "owed no account of their moneys" as long as Athens effectively "carried on the war for them and kept off the Barbarians" (Plut. Pericles, XII). Plutarch describes the enthusiasm with which the populace then embraced this vast public works project. It would call many arts into play and involve long periods of time, in order that the stay-at-homes, no whit less than the sailors and sentinels and soldiers, might have a pretext for getting a beneficial share of the public wealth ... So then the works arose, no less towering in their grandeur than inimitable in the grace of their outlines, since the workmen eagerly strove to surpass themselves in the beauty of their handicraft. And yet the most wonderful thing about them was the speed with which they arose. (Plut. Pericles, XII-XIII) �62 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW Here Plutarch emphasizes the competitive spirit and the speed that, like the swift victory at Salamis, characterized all things Athenian. When the oligarchs continued to complain about the great expense of the Parthenon, Pericles offered to fund the undertaking himself, as years before, he had funded the production of the Persians, and as, more recently, other wealthy individuals had underwritten other buildings and beautification projects in the ciry. In this way, he said, Athens would be saved the cost and "I will make the inscription of dedication in my own name" (Pint. Pericles, XIV). At this dramatic gesture, the wary assembly quickly voted in favor of public funding and sparing no cost. For the next few decades, a great deal of the assembly's time was spent deliberating on the features and expenses of the new temple. Even as it took shape, it was supervised and discussed by the democratic population for which it was being built. These discussions are recorded in civic records and in the narrative accounts of the extraordinary writers Athens also produced. Thus the aristocratic Pericles maneuvered his oligarchic enemies into supporting polis-sponsored projects that would increase the power of his radically democratic supporters. The Parthenon was the centerpiece of the building program. The man whom Plutarch calls "that political athlete" (Pint., Pericles, III) was among the most interesting competitors ever to exhibit himself upon the Athenian stage. The Panathenaic trophies and the names of the athletes who won them are lost in the anonymity of time, like those of the Persians who died at Salamis. The name of the young aristocrat who made his "brilliant debut"49 as the choregos of Aeschylus's Persians, was not inscribed on the temple, but it was known forever after as Pericles' Parthenon. 5• Before looking at the Parthenon, let us glance briefly at some Persian buildings where, as in Athens and Sparta, physical constructions reflect the political structure and principles of the regime. As Aeschylus describes it, the everexpanding Persian Empire is centered on the royal palace and nearby tomb of the divinized monarch, the only godlike �FLAUMENHAFT 63 figure who appears on stage. Although the play is set in Susa, it is clear that the king's palaces, like everything else in Persia-except the monarch himself-are multiple; in addition to Susa, Ekbatana and Persepolis are mentioned repeatedly as the king's headquarters. But, unlike the civic and political activities of Athens, which took place in one bounded, permanent location, the Persian court was also always on the move. 51 Super-civilized in some respects, it retained nomadic aspects more characteristic of lessdeveloped peoples. The King sat upon a movable throne. The portable royal tent, as elaborate as the palaces, was an object of wonder to the Athenians, who may have copied its shape in the roof of the new Odeion. 52 Herodotus says that Ekbatana, the palace fortress built by Deioces, the first king of the Medes, was built for himself and his bodyguards on a hill and was reinforced artificially with seven strong walls; the rest of the people lived outside the stronghold. Deioces arranged that all business "should be contracted through messengers and that the king should be seen by none" (Hdt., 1.99). The structure of the hierarchical Persian regime insured that each level-subjects, local officials, and regional satraps-had dealings only with the ones immediately above and below it. At Persepolis, the huge compound was not far above the plain below and may have been surrounded by a mud wall. This too was a closed site, open only at the king's pleasure. An ancient commentator remarks that, "at Susa or Ekbatana, the king was invisible to all," but everything was arranged so that he "might see everything and hear everything. " 53 His viceroys, "the Great King's eyes/' 54 as Aeschylus's Persians refers to them, were ever vigilant. Even in the public audience hall, the Apadana, at Persepolis, vision seems to have been obstructed by the many columns and the distant ruler in the large, dark chamber would not have been easily observed by his subjects. 55 Directions came from an unseen center from which attention was also turned by the king's desire for unlimited expansion. A long inscription describes "the palace which I [Darius] built �64 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW at Susa" 56 of timber, gold, stone, ebony, and brick transported from the far reaches of the empire. Unlike the Athenian political records with their public accounts of the expenses and inventories of Periclean buildings, there is no Persian record of the architects, organization, or political context of Persian building. In Persia, as in Egypt, the King's massive construction projects, like his military campaigns, were facilitated by the unlimited, enslaved manpower at his command. The eastern monarchy did not discuss its "public" buildings any more than it discussed its foreign and military policy. It is not surprising that Persia produced no narrative history or drama and that among the extant ruins of its great buildings there is no evidence of either assembly places or theaters. Herodotus's observations about the buildings and monuments of "barbarian" nations other than Persia are also instructive about what was different about Athens' greatest monument. Not surprisingly, the nomadic and under-civilized Scythians had no temples or cities; residing in movable tents, their only significant permanent places were their fathers' gravesites (Hdt., 4.127). These itinerant non-builders were also not producers of cloth. They made no linen or woolen fabrics, both of which require a stationary economy, but dressed themselves mostly in animal skins. Early Persians, before the eras of the great buildings, also wore leather. Croesus and the Lydian conquest softened tl1em into the lovers of luxurious fabrics, robes, and slippers with which, along with enormous palaces, the Greeks associated them. In Lydia, the greatest building was a royal tomb constructed by craftsmen and by prostitutes who worked on it to earn their dowries (Hdt., 1.93). The walled city of Babylon had two walled compounds within it, one for the royal palace, the other for a stack of multiple towers, ziggurats. The latter contained a huge temple for Zeus with a great gold statue of the god and altars for sacrifice to him. Herodotus says Xerxes took the statue and killed the priest who had forbidden him to do so (Hdt., 1.181-2). �FLAUMENHAFT 65 The most impressive buildings of the Egyptians were not temples for gods, but massive memorials to the godlike kings who built them. Thus, Moeris built a propylaia (gateway) to the temple of Hephaestus as a memorial to himself (Hdt., 2.101), and Cheops built pyramids, intending to preserve his memory as a divinized ruler. Cheops used slave labor, ordering all Egyptians to work only "for himself" (Hdt., 2.124). Amasis, the last of the Egyptian kings described by Herodotus, considered himself a "great lover of the Greeks" (Hdt., 2.178). But Herodotus emphasizes how different Egypt was: the sheer size of his propylaia and temple to Athena at Sa'is, the "supernatural" (hyperphueas) size of its stones, how long it took for two thousand men to transport its building materials from great distances, and the many colossal statues and hybrid man-headed sphinxes around the temple. Herodotus was "amazed" at the huge shrine, made from a single stone, outside the temple. It was said that one of the workmen had been killed while trying, unsuccessfully, to lever it into place (2.175). The story strikes an odd note, given the thousands of anonymous slaves who lost their lives to Egyptian projects. In Memphis, the statue of Hephaestus measured seventy-five feet; it was so large that it had to lie flat on its back in front of its admirably large temple (Hdt., 2.176). Again and again, Herodotus associates the size and character of the buildings of non-Greek peoples with their political and religious character. Now behold the Acropolis again, this time with the completed Parthenon and surrounding buildings in place upon it. From the top, all of Athens, including its boundaries, would have been visible. The ancient city itself was walled, and contiguous lands were contained between mountains and the sea. Herodotus observes that the longest wall of the Great King's private domain in Ekbatana was "about the length of the wall that surrounds the city of Athens" (Hdt., 1.98, emphasis added). Unlike the eastern empire that recognized no natural boundary, Athens was open on the inside and bounded-though accessible to outsiders-on the outside, �66 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW both physically and politically. Political life was not contained in a closed palace, garden paradise, or tomb, where all communication with the royal family was mediated by officials or bodyguards. The sacred precinct upon the Acropolis was articulated from its surroundings by its elevation and by the grand gateway, the Propylaia, through which it was entered. But, like the Agora, which was no more than a ten or fifteen minute walk from any place in the city, 57 the Acropolis was accessible to all Athenians, to resident aliens, metics who "dwelled among" (met-oikeo) them, and to foreigners (xenoi) who visited from elsewhere. In festival processions and athletic competitions, in battle, assembly, and the theater, Athenians were on view to each other and direct speech was the preferred medium of exchange. Unlike the staircase to the Apadana, the stairs to the Propylaia invited those who climbed them to enter and to look. The new temple could be seen from everywhere in Athens: from the lower hill on the Pnyx where the assembly met, from the theater on the south slope of the Acropolis, and even from the sea. Most other buildings in Athens were made of dark wood and baked brown mudbricks. Rebuilt quickly after the Persians went away, they were not made to be looked at or to be visible from afar. Even the public buildings in the Agora, including marble stoas, temples, and fountains, would have had, at least from their location, a lower status than the temple on the Acropolis. Various architectural "refinements" that will not concern us here make the Parthenon appear to be "springy" or to float skywards, increasing its high status in the physical city. Because it is located on the highest spot on the hill and near the edge of the southern side where less traffic was possible, most views of it from elsewhere on the Acropolis would not have included other large structures. 58 Unlike the Agora, which was planted with shade trees, the rocky hill above it did not support trees or other vegetation-except Athena's olive. There were, however, numerous smaller buildings, monuments, and billboards, so that the ancient visitor's view �FLAUMENHAFT 67 would have been far more cluttered than what we see today. As we have seen, some of this "clutter" functioned as a "public archive in bronze and stone," 59 providing information, to those who could read, about the building projects themselves. The temple to Athena was not used for child sacrifices, prostitution, or royal burials. Visitors to the Parthenon came to deliver the birthday peplos to the goddess-and to look. What they saw was themselves, both in the flesh and represented in local marble. The temple was not used for worship of the goddess. Rather, like Aeschylus's play, it was a "monument" or "reminder" of the city's collective defeat of a different way of life, a house for a goddess who exemplified what they regarded as a superior life for human beings. As we shall see, the pictures of the Parthenon clearly distinguish men and gods, humans and beasts, as well as male and female human beings. Deified kings, as well as sphinxes, Centaurs, and Amazons, are all rejected as hybrid; each in its own way undermines human nature. Unlike the unlimited, enslaved, yoked manpower that worked and died on Persian palaces and Pharaohs' pyramids, the Parthenon work force, although it certainly included slaves, consisted of citizens, resident aliens, and foreigners as well, all paid for their labor. In addition to the myths depicted on the temple, there are myths about it. An old story tells how a mule that was resting from its task of dragging heavy marble up to the building site came back, of his own free will, to encourage his yokefellows in their work. 60 Athenian civic propaganda, spread easily among a small population whose politics consisted of constant talk, insisted that even beasts of burden were enthusiastic participants in this project. Self-yoking in a noble cause is the theme of the story that Athenian Solon tells Croesus about the blessed brothers, Cleobis and Biton, who put themselves "under the yoke" of a carriage to pull their mother to worship at the temple of Hera (Hdt., 1.31). Another story contrasts with that of the Egyptian laborer crushed in the temple of Athena at Sa'is, where the goddess is present only in �68 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW the huge, inert statue (Hdt., 2.175). In Athens, in contrast, Plutarch reports that, when the most zealous workman at the construction site of the Propylaia entrance to the Acropolis fell off the building, mortally injuring himself, Pericles was so dispirited that the Goddess appeared to him in a dream and told him how to heal the man (Piut. Pericles, XIII). The popular myths repeatedly assert that Athena watched over and took an active interest in the building of her city. The dimensions of the new Parthenon were larger than those of its predecessor so that it could accommodate the statue that Phidias planned for it. But, like the city that withstood the mixed and disproportionate Persian force, the Parthenon is a monument to unity and proportion. In what follows I shall not discuss the architecture itself, but concentrate on selected parts of the temple, in which "narrative" depictions shape the viewers' collective memory of their victory over the Persians. On the stage Aeschylus depicts Persians who, although different from Athenians, are recognizable human beings like themselves. On the Parthenon, the actors on the "stages" of the pediments and metopes on the outer temple resemble the humans who view them, but are super or sub-human in size or form. The inner walls of the temple are the "stage" on which Athenians view themselves engaged in the paradigmatic Athenian festival, the celebration of Athena's birthday. As in Aeschylus's tragedy, the civic clothing and dynamic "weaving" of Athenian democratic politics is meant to look superior to the luxurious fabrics and strong yoke of the Persian Empire. The most important ritual fabric in Athens was woven to clothe the wooden image of the goddess who watched over this city. Just as Aeschylus's play represents the power and failure of Persia in the Queen's robes and Xerxes' peplos, so the Parthenon's pediments, metopes, and frieze, and the celebrated statue of the goddess herself, make Athena's pep/as a politically significant artifact. �FLAUMENHAFT 69 2. Pediments: Before and Above the Polis Although the Parthenon stands at the center of polis life, the citizens who come to see it are made to look again, to re-view their city in the light of what is outside it, both spatially and temporally. Thus, the pediments, the triangular gables facing outward east and west on the short sides of the temple, depict the outermost context of the city, the cosmos in which the bounded polis takes shape and flourishes. Unlike the divinized Darius and Xerxes, who aspired to a realm as extensive as Zeus's sky, the Parthenon assumes a realm that transcends the limited human world. In two dramatic scenes depicting well-known stories, the pediments exhibit divine beings who have their primary location outside the city, above the mortals whose affairs they are both spectators of and participants in. These representations of the gods depict the continual adjustment and balancing of different and complementary human qualities. They show how Athens became Athena's city through the careful interweaving of all the other gods-including those who seem antithetical to her waysinto a heterogeneous but viable whole. Although it depicts opposition and strife among the gods, the "polytheism" of the Parthenon is informed by a principle of a coherent, unified cosmos. The "dramas" staged on the pediments do not conclude in the mere defeat of one of the contesting sides; the gods don't die. The victor wins by assimilating the vanquished and adjusting the order of the world. We know about the pediments from a few remarks of the traveler Pausanias who saw them in the second century A.D., from Jacques Carrey, who made drawings of them in 1674 before they were largely destroyed in a gunpowder explosion in 1687, and from the damaged yet remarkable figures in Athens, Paris, and the British Museum in London. Classicists and archaeologists have put together a variety of plausible scenarios for the two pediments. The non-expert can follow their lead and think through, in a general way, what the intent and effect of these scenes might have been. �70 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW The pediments are populated with three-dimensional sculptured figures. These are positioned at different angles, some facing forward, others seen in profile. Some appear to be moving towards the front triangular plane of the scene, and some actually do penetrate it. The originals had attachments, some of which mnst also have projected outside the plane. The triangular frame and the rounded character of the sculptures remind one of theatrical tableaux; viewed more closely, the sculptures might even have appeared to be "rounder" than would distant actors who might appear flat in a very large theater. The pediment figures are unusual in that their backs, unseen after the sculptures were mounted, are finished; like actors on a stage, they appear as "real" personages, not just building ornaments. The "backdrop" wall was originally painted bright red or blue, and the colorful patterns painted on the sculpted clothing of the figures would have stood out against it as costumed actors did onstage. Tragic actors, like those in the Persians, are intelligible to the spectators, the "audience," primarily through their heard speech. How do the silent pediment actors "speak" to Athenians about the Persian wars of recent memory and about the community that survived them? The west pediment faces the spectator as he approaches the Parthenon from the great (unfinished) entrance gate, the Propylaia. His first view of the highest part of the "back" of the temple (as it appears in descriptions and drawings) would be a tableau of the contest between Athena and Poseidon, who take center stage. The scene is set on the Acropolis. Pausanias says their strife was for the "land," suggesting a very early, almost proto-Athenian time. They are symmetrically flanked by horse-drawn chariots and gods. In the narrowed corners are reclining river gods (and perhaps the autochthonous king Kekrops), snakes, a sea monster, and other figures associated with early legends of king Erechtheus and his family: "The figures in the angles represent the royal population of Athens before it was Athens. " 61 The contest between Poseidon and Athena pits the natural abundance of �FLAUMENHAFT 71 surging fluidity against the artful prosperity of rooted solidity. Fruit and oil, wooden boats and oars, will characterize Athena's city, where speech and artful skill, techne, will shape the sheer power and fertility of Poseidon. Thus, the victory of Athena in this pre-political agon results not in the elimination of the immortal god of the sea, bnt in his assimilation. On the north side of the Acropolis both the olive tree and the salt spring remained as reminders of the outcome. Travelers by sea leaving or arriving at Athena's city would always see the great temple of Poseidon on the cliff at Sounion. Equilibrium rather than mere defeat is suggested by the position of the contenders, both of whom remain upright in a "great 'Pheidian V'," 62 and by the way Poseidon's leg overlaps Athena's, placing him in the foremost position. The pediment suggests that balance in Athena's city involves harnessing Poseidon for the city's benefit. But harnessing does not mean simply yoking. Every visitor to the Parthenon remembered that the Persians were defeated at sea, and that Athens' greatness, in contrast to that of landlocked Persia, was the result of her close and comfortable relation with Poseidon. Unlike Xerxes and the Persians, Themistocles and the Athenians knew that one doesn't "beat" or shackle the sea, but collaborates with it by sailing and swimming. In the 4 70s, after the maritime victory at Salamis, Athens may have developed a Poseidon cult around the salt spring and the sign of the trident,63 which, like the olive tree depicted in the center of the pediment, remained visible on the Acropolis. The west pediment memorializes the victory over Persia by asserting that Athens succeeds under the supervision of gods who transcend the city in time and place, but that, in Athens, there is a time and place for all the gods. The "front" east pediment also pictures a cosmic event, "in the manner of classical drama ... played out in the course of a single day." 64 The scene is Olympus. In the center, the viewer would have seen a tableau that included Zeus, perhaps seated on his throne, Athena, newly emerged from his head, and Hephaestus holding the axe that liberated-and �72 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW delivered-her. With a mother named Metis, "craft" or "wisdom," and gestation in the head of Zens, she comes into the world as a manifestation of rational, self-reliant thought. Just as the symmetry of Athena and Poseidon on the west pediment conveys their simultaneous existence in Athens, here the symmetry of Athena and Hephaestus around Zens indicates that these two must be thought of together. "In Athens, the birth of Athena makes a new god of Hephaestus, for they share between them the patronage of all things made by the hands. " 65 He is her midwife, but also the "working partner to the newborn goddess of work. "66 Like the central figures on the west pediment, the central group here is flanked by an array of divinities, some individuals, and some in groups carved from common blocks of marble. Tied together, they suggest again that Athenian mortals look up to a pantheon of complementary divinities. The east pediment's location, Olympus, is a loftier mountain than the Acropolis of the west pediment. It is far removed from the city around the Acropolis, but the "explosion of power"" from the head of Zeus affects not only the gods who have homes on Olympus. "The event taking place between" Helios, the sun, in the south angle and Selene, the moon, in the north "is ... an event of cosmic significance. It is dawn. There is a new order on Olympus. The coming of Athena has changed the world." 68 As we have seen, Athens commemorated Athena's birth with a new dress, whose weaving and presentation provided the city with an elaborate protocol for holding itself together. The fast-moving, quick-thinking city of rationality and progress here tied itself to tradition and repetition, to time. The east pediment, like the festival and the Parthenon itself, made the Athenians look backward as well as forward and recognize their mortal limits. Thus, although the gods who live forever have an endless future, time as it is depicted on the east pediment is cyclical, not linear. Just as Athena's victory on the west pediment does not simply banish Poseidon, here on the east "Light does not banish darkness from the world, for neither can exist without the other." 69 �FLAUMENHAFT 73 Dawn, like Athena's birthday, always comes round again. But although the gods do not die, even they tire and retire when the sun goes down. Nothing captures this quite so well as the immortal but weary horse of Selene's chariot, about to sink under the night horizon in the northern angle of the pediment. The horse breaks the plane and thus the distancing frame of the pediment, and seems to reach into our world. Viewers have always loved him, for although his days are not numbered like ours, he expresses weariness as we too know it. Like the Persians, the Parthenon suggests "weaving" as an image for the holding together of a human community. One of the most astonishing things about the pediments is the sculptured clothing, a trademark of Pheidias's style throughout the Parthenon. Unlike the stiff Persian costumes and royal gear that obscure nature with conventional wealth in Aeschylus's dramatic depiction, the fabrics pictured here reveal the bodies they cover. Iris's clinging, blowing dress, Hestia's light, crinkly crepe under heavier woolen folds, and Amphytrite's belted peplos amaze the viewer with the art of the sculptor, who imitates soft fabrics in stone, but also with the art that weaves real soft fabrics of cloth, the art of Athena herself. Through the draperies, and probably through the "embroidered" patterns that were painted upon them, the groups of sculptures could unify "motifs involving a complex dramatic action and including many interlocking figures ... Pheidias invented a plastic means by which a scene composed of many parts could be transformed into a single powerful image." 70 Their flowing garments and the variety of angled positions make the three goddesses on the east pediment (perhaps Hestia, Dione, and Aphrodite) seem to "weave" in and out among each other (Figure 2). We shall see something similar in the low relief frieze inside the Parthenon. Like the Athenian pantheon and Pheidias's sculptured tableaux of these gods, the weaver's art combines many elements into a coherent whole. The politics of the city that �74 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW FIGURE 2 (Courtesy of A. Nicgorski) fabricated the Parthenon sculptures and Athena's woven peplos did something similar: it fabricated its way of life by weaving together free speech in the political deliberation of free individuals. Entirely different are the lined up, repetitious figures on the Persepolis Apadana staircase. Unlike the lovely, varied, and flexible materials of the Parthenon, their stiff, identical robes do not convey the famed beauty of Persian weaving. In contrast to the dramatic tableaux vivants of the Olympians on the pediments and the Athenians and gods on the frieze (to be discussed below), even in Persia's most accomplished works of art, the Persians remain arbitrarily and stiffly yoked together, just as they are said to be in Aeschylus's play. 3. Metopes: Outside the Polis The outer sides of the temple display what's outside: earthly alternatives that threaten to invade and destroy Athena's polis. Wrapping around the outermost upper wall of the Parthenon, below the pediments, is a horizontal band of ninety-two squares, thirty-two on the long sides and fourteen on the short. These metopes, seen "between the holes" or "between the eyes," are separated from each other by slabs of three vertical bars called "triglyphs," which frame each scene. Originally painted in bright, contrasting colors, the figures on the metopes were far more distinct than they appear today. Each square presents a framed static scene, a snapshot, to the �FLAUMENHAFT 75 spectator who can view one whole side at the same time, or each picture in the band, as he circles the temple. The metopes are carved in high relief and most do not appear in the round as the theatrical pediment statues do. Here, too, the effect is sometimes compared to the changing scenes in a drama, but now the scenes remain in place while the spectator moves. Another difference is that in the theater the scenes follow one another in time, suggesting causal relations between them, while the metopes are freestanding or paired images that do not depict a sequential narrative in time. The central scene of Aeschylus's play is central in time; the center of a band of metopes is central in space, although, as we shall see, on the south side, it may represent a different time, but one related in theme, to those around it. Like the play, the metopes can be seen as four sets or "acts," each depicting a particular conflict between Greeks (or their champions) and a particular enemy: on the east, gods and Giants; on the north, Greeks and Trojans, on the west, Greeks and Amazons, and on the south, Lapiths and Centaurs. These subjects appear repeatedly in the Parthenon and in other fifth-century buildings. The threats depicted are all analogues to the Persian invasion depicted by Aeschylus. The play uses words to depict the unseen Greek alternative to the Persians seen on stage. But the metopes depict the Greeks as well as their would-be destroyers. Each set can also be "read," like Herodotus's inquiries, as the struggle between the civilized Greek city and a particular deficient alternative to the life it regards as human. All four sets depict battles with mythological enemies. On three sides, mortal victors defeat mortal enemies. But on the east wall, the final destination of visitors to the Parthenon, the viewer would have faced the early cosmic conflict in which the Giants, sons of Gaia, the Earth, arose to challenge the hegemony of the heavenly Olympian gods. As we have seen, the great "Cyclopean" foundations of the Acropolis were reminders of Athena's victory and harnessing of Giant power in the service of her city. In some versions of the legend the �76 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW Giants are defeated and imprisoned in the locations of volcanoes. The primitive Giants are the first depiction on the metopes of an attempt of massive force to overcome divine or human civilization. Their eruptions are associated more with the powers of nature than with intentional evil. They cannot be simply destroyed, but are containable and even usable. Little remains of the eastern metopes, but their theme appeared repeatedly on the Parthenon, most notably on the great statue's shield and on the peplos itself." Thus, every element of the east side of the Parthenon refers the ultimate prosperity of Athenian civilization to the divine. Beneath the birth of Athena on the east pediment and behind the Giant metopes, the viewer would see the culminating panels of the interior frieze, picturing the Olympian gods towards whom the procession of Athenians moves. And through the east doorway, beneath the pediment, frieze, and metopes, in the innermost part of the temple, he would view the statue of the Goddess herself. Nowhere on the Parthenon does any historical human being become an immortal, as did the mythical Heracles, who probably was depicted helping Athena overcome the Giants. And unlike the giant representations of Darius and Xerxes in Persia, there are no enlarged portraits of identifiable individual human beings. Themistocles, not named but clearly referred to in Aeschylus's play, is not identifiable on the Parthenon, and Pericles, as we have seen, is present only in the spirit of the project. 71 Nowhere is it suggested that human rule might extend indefinitely, like that of Zeus or the Great King's dreams. In the stories depicted on the Parthenon and in the contained inward focus of the building itself, Athens differentiates itself from its recent Persian enemy. As we shall see, the story of the Parthenon itself and of the politics of its construction under Pericles suggests an Athens that will need to expand its own aims, even as it remembers its defeat of unlimited expansion. As the articulated and delimited city moved towards its own version of empire, its relationship with the goddess and gods of the eastern "front" of the �FLAUMENHAFT 77 Parthenon would shift radically from that celebrated in its memorial monument in the decades immediately following the Persian War. For the conflict between mortal human beings, the designers of the Parthenon's north metopes (the ones facing the Athenian Agora) selected the war with the Trojans, a people who are the same as their Greek enemies in their nature, physis, but whose conventions, nomoi, like those of the Persians, represent a different way of life. Although the Trojan War was a Greek invasion, it was viewed as a response to a previous "invasion" on the part of the Trojans since Paris's violation was thought to undermine all civilized custom. Thus, some of the surviving slabs show Menelaus, Helen, and Paris. The historical and mythological Trojans were an eastern patriarchal monarchy that, in some respects, resembled Persia. Homer depicts the "Trojans" as a mixed, polyglot, loosely combined force from many different places. In contrast, the Greeks, although from many cities, are ethnically coherent; they speak the same language, function as a political community, and coordinate their military efforts. 73 Like Aeschylus's Persians and Herodotus's Inquiries, the Parthenon's north metopes depict an alternative human culture in order to think about the customs most appropriate to human nature. The anthropology of the remaining metopes, the Amazons of the west and Centaurs of the south sides, depicts mythical beings that resemble, but are not quite, human beings. Unlike the Trojans and Persians, they represent a difference in kind-in nature-rather than in custom. The first are entirely human, but entirely female, rejecting life with males of their own kind. The second are entirely male, but are hybrids of human and beast. Athenian civic mythology had long depicted Amazons and Centaurs as enemy invaders and threats to Athens and to Theseus, its founding king. The metopes, like the tragic dramas, assume familiarity with these stories, but they do not dramatize incidents involving particular heroes. Little remains of the �78 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW Amazon metopes, but a brief consideration of what they represent will help to understand the unified thought of the Parthenon and to set the stage for the better preserved Centaurs. The Amazons are liberated women. In contrast to the typical Athenian confinement of women and their children within the home, these untamed, unmarried horsewomen hunt, fight, and even mate in the open air, rejecting the confinements of the polis, of buildings generally, of conventional female clothing, and even of their own bodies. Their name seems to refer to their custom of removing the right breast; the breast-less (a-mastos) woman could more easily pull a bow or throw a javelin, typically Persian weapons, as opposed to Athenian hoplite spears. The voluntary mastectomies are reminiscent of Persian castrations described by Herodotus; the exclusion of males and the isolation of the Amazons also require denaturing and mutilation. Some depictions of Amazons show two breasts, exposed in a way unthinkable for ordinary Athenian women. In others, they appear in pants, short belted jackets, and pointed caps, and have pale skin as opposed to the outdoors tans of Athenian men.74 Athenian artists often pictured Amazons in Persian dress and hats in order to mock the latter as effeminate. Athenian mythology credited the defeat of the Amazon invasion of Athens to Theseus, and located his victory on the hill of the quintessentially masculine war god Ares, the rocky platform just below the Acropolis. In the Oresteia Aeschylus depicts the establishment of the Athenian court on the Areopagus and makes clear that its supersession of the female Furies is a critical step in the development of civic justice in the Athenian polis. The defeat of the Amazons by the male founder of Athens invites two questions. The first concerns the truth of the common claim that Athens simply assumed male superiority and that women were regarded as inferior human beings. There is no doubt that Athens was a male hoplite culture; men fought its wars, spoke in its assembly, met in its markets, socialized in its �FLAUMENHAFT 79 gymnasia and symposia, wrote for and performed in its theater, and designed and built its temples. Women, in contrast, spent their time at home, indoors, among other women and female and young male children. They had no property rights, did not take part in public deliberation, and were certainly less articulate and less visible than their fathers and brothers, husbands and sons. The myths about au Amazonian alternative to such a life are not surprising. But it is misleading to claim that Athens aims to exclude women as it does the half-humans and barbarians on the outside of the temple. There is a difference between differentiation and exclusion. Athens and its myths distinguish appropriate realms for male and female human beings, but they do not attempt to eradicate the female. Amazons are excluded because they attempt to exclude the male from human life. Their defeat by Theseus resulted not in the elimination of women, but in their integration into a human life that includes both sexes. In the carefully revised civic legends that replaced the hyper-masculine, godlike Heracles with Theseus, the unequivocally human founder marries the Amazon queen. She and her comrades live on in what, from the perspective of egalitarian modernity, looks like a subordinate position. But Athenian drama and religion make clear that women are necessary, not just as producers of children, the only role for which the Amazons reluctantly acknowledged their need for men, but for civilized life as the Athenians saw it. Once again, women's work offers an appropriate metaphor. The communal fabric is woven from warp and weft: each requires the other; they have different jobs to do. One is upright, stiff, a visible support; the other is horizontal, more pliant, weaves in and out, sometimes behind the scenes, sometimes visible. Modern technology has gone a long way to liberate the sexes from their strictly differentiated natures; how far is yet to be seen. But in fifth-century Athens, where Persians had to be repelled by hand-to-hand combat, and where birth control, frozen foods, and mass-produced textiles were not available, division of labor follows from natural �80 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW differences bet\veen the sexes. Differentiation may require hierarchy. But we shonld also note that refusing to medize included rejecting polygamy, as well as effeminate dress and luxury. This snggests that polis life inclnded a developed sense of the individnal worth of women as well as of men, however constricted the lives of the former now appear. As we have seen, the Panathenaic festival included, and even featured, women. Only they could perform certain civic fnnctions, including the most intimate ministering to the patron goddess. The peplos had to be made, not by slaves, but by female "citizens with known ancestry" who performed this rite, "not for themselves, bnt for the city. It is the ritnal that distinguishes the women of Athens from the women of other states ... it is a ritual in which women and men both play important roles." 75 However dominant the males of Pericles' city were, its women were present and visible. The Amazons, we must conclude, are on the outside, partly because they are women who relocate themselves from inside to outside, but also because they are women who attempt to remove themselves from the full hnman condition, that is, from a civic life that interweaves, however hierarchically, men and women. A second question about these warrior women is that of their relation to Athens' patron, the warrior goddess, Pallas Athena. Is she to be considered the paradigmatic Amazon? A complicated answer is suggested by the different, but overlapping, aspects of her presence on the Acropolis. In the early days, worship of Athena Polias seems to have taken place in the old Erechtheion temple where the olivewood statue resided, and where Athenians brought multitudes of little statuettes as offerings to her, seeking, perhaps, protection, like that sought by later generations when the Parthenon was sanctified as "Our Lady of Athens." During her great annual festival, the women bathed her, applied cosmetics, and dressed her in traditional female garb and jewelry. She was human-sized or smaller and was associated with female fertility, agriculture, and domestic prosperity in �FLAUMENHAFT 81 peacetime. She may have been seated and she carried no shield or weapons. There is nothing of the Amazon about her. Another Athena, called the Promachos, "foremost fighter," was a large bronze statue made by Pheidias perhaps as a thank-offering for the Greek victory at Marathon. This one stood outdoors on the western side of the Acropolis. Her armed figure, the Centauromachy pictured on her shield, and the Persian spoils displayed around her base, 76 suggest the more masculine task of defending Athens. Although she is more a symbol of public military strength than an object of worship and private protector like the Polias, here she seems relaxed, a secure victor over Persian invaders rather than an aggressor in her own right. Her shining spear and helmet were visible to ships sailing towards the city as they passed Cape Sunium. 77 This Athena is no more suggestive of the Amazons than the Polias is. In action, Athena as battle god differed from her brother, the bowman Apollo. Walter Otto long ago suggested "immediacy" as the feminine element of her fighting spirit. 78 Unlike the "far-shooting" god, and unlike Amazons and Persians, both of whom fought with bows and arrows, Athena shows up near at hand among those she champions, both women and men, as she does at Homer's Troy and Aeschylus's Salamis. The temple Pericles built in the decades after Salamis housed the third Athena on the Acropolis, Pheidias's most famous statue of Athena, the Parthenos, "maiden"; unlike the Amazons, she is comfortable with a roof over her head. We shall consider the colossal image when we arrive at the innermost chamber of the Parthenon. For now, let us merely raise the question: is she the divine image of the ordinarily reclusive, fierce but shy, race of women warriors of Athenian legend? Or is she something new, an Athenian god on the march, ready to leave her home and city, the Promachos of the post-Parthenon empire that Pericles sees as the natural successor of the Persian one that failed in Athens? The south metopes, which depict women merely as the occasion for masculine conflict, have survived in good �82 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW enough condition to convey some idea of what they once had to say. The thirty-two tableaux depict a well-known legend, the battle between the Lapiths and their half-brothers, the Centaurs, who, like Theseus's friend, the Lapith king Pirithous, were fathered by Ixion. 79 Demanding a share in the kingdom, they made war on the more civilized branch of the family until an uneasy truce was established. In a foolish gesture of reconciliation, Pirithous invited the estranged relatives to his wedding, but the unruly Centaurs got drunk, wrecked the party, and attempted to carry off Pirithous's bride and the other Lapith women. Although the panels do not present a continuous linear narrative of this event or its outcome in the defeat of the Centaurs, they are arranged in pairs, triplets, and groups by their composition and subjects. All but one contain only two opposed figures, and that one, east 21 (moving to the right, facing the south side of the temple), concludes a central set of nine panels in which the Centauromachy is not the subject. We reserve this mysterious center for the end of our discussion. As we have seen in Aeschylus's play and on the Parthenon, Athenians associated their Persian enemies with the fully human Amazons. Like Persian Xerxes, Trojan Paris, and Amazon women, the male Centaurs disrupt marriage and hospitality as the foundations of the human city. 80 But, for several reasons, they seem even more alien. However lopsided the Amazon attempt to avoid the limitations of ordinary mature female lives, they are recognizably human in form, belong to a coherent community, and make arrangements for its continuity. The Centaur seems more a member of a herd than of a community. His hybrid body combines a mature human nature with a mature beastly one. The result, as pictured in the metopes, undermines rather than enhances human wholeness. The Amazon isolates herself from the male half of humanity; the Centaur combines male halves of two different kinds. Aeschylus's play and the Persian Queen's dream raise the question of whether different nations of human beings can be viably yoked together to form a �FLAUMENHAFT 83 coherent human regime. The Parthenon Centaurs depict a "yoking" of two different kinds that is incapable of coherent human life. Egyptian and Assyrian art often represent hybrids of different animals and of animals and humans in the service of humans. Persian monsters of this kind are found in eaglefaced lions and human-headed bulls in Pasargadae and Persepolis. But on the Parthenon such a combination is the enemy and would-be destroyer of civilized human life. In contrast to the bodies of the Lapiths, who are beautiful even in their painful twisting, the bodies of the Centaurs lack unity and proportion. Combining the upright and horizontal forms of its progenitors, the Centaur lacks the full powers of either orientation. Like snapshots or scenes in a dramatic pageant, the metopes freeze moments of violent action, exhibiting the peculiarity of Centaur posture: they cannot stand or kneel like men; they can rear like horses. Although all Centaurs are man above and horse below, there are early depictions (not on the Parthenon) with human forelegs. From the front, these might look more human, but from the side, they appear even less unified, since their nether parts are also dual. Both combinations viewed from the side or rear present not one whole, natural being, but a beast with two backs. The most human parts of the Parthenon Centaurs are the faces. Although some are grotesque and mask-like, while others are said to be "sensitive" or "grandfatherly," several features emphasize their un-emerged humanity, or their reversion to bestiality. Their heads are set low on their shoulders and are less visibly articulated from their bodies by necks than those of the humans (south 26, 29, 31). Unlike the dean-shaven faces of the young Lapiths, the Centaurs are bearded; they look older and shaggy and the beards further obscure the articulation of their heads. 81 In south 31 the bearded head of the Centaur is hard to grasp, but the Centaur has the Lapith by the throat (Figure 3). Rationality seems pulled down or sunken into their violent, marauding Centaur bodies. A recent interpreter claims that the more "human" faces among the mask-like, ferocious ones are evidence that �84 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW the sculptors did not view these problematic beings as uniformly alien and hostile, or offer an "easy apology for human superiority," and asks "whether they [centaurs] should be construed as other at all." 82 It seems more correct to say that the occasionally human expressions underline the grotesqueness of FIGURE 3 (Courtesy of A. Nicgorski) their bestial behavior, just as Xerxes' pain at his disastrous failure intensifies the audience's understanding of what is wrong with his grotesque project. Persian violations are the result of human nature aspiring to the super-human; Centaur violations are the result of human nature sunk into the subhuman. In both cases, hybris characterizes the hybrid. The sunken heads are emphasized even more by the prominent rear ends of the Centaurs. Their upright human torsos are short and the heavy bulk of their horizontal horse bodies pulls them groundward. Even when rearing or bucking, they are not taller than their human opponents. Many originally had carved hairy tails that protruded out of the frames of the deeply carved reliefs. Some interpreters associate the tails with the supposed phallic character of the Centaurs, deriving their name from the Greek word for "goad" or "prick" (kentros), and relating it to obscene phallic jokes that play on their name and sexually aggressive character. 83 But interestingly, many of the Centaurs do not have prominent or even visible genitals, as do most of the Lapiths, who are often pictured in full frontal nudity. \Vhen the Centaur organs of generation are visible, they are in equine location. The early Centaurs with human front legs raise the odd possibility of two different sets of genitals. One �FLAUMENHAFT 85 would expect that these organs would be of great interest, given the virile potency of the horse component, as well as the hybrid nature of the combination. The relative lack of attention to the genitalia of the Parthenon Centaurs reminds the viewer that there are no accounts, as there are for Amazons, of communities of Centaurs. After the first mating of Ixion, references to females or to reproduction are rare. The human torsos of the Parthenon Centaurs have navels indicating their generation. But whatever their own genealogy is, it seems that Centaurs, like mules and other hybrids, are themselves sterile dead ends. Amazons do not marry, but they generate and raise children; Centaurs do neither: they rape. Finally, the Parthenon Centaurs seem remarkably unsexual in their attack on the Lapith women. The impression the metopes give is more of disrupted communal festivity, marauding violence, and theft than of lust; more unfamiliarity with the celebratory social use of wine by a civilized community, than a coordinated attempt to provide themselves with women. This is not the rape of Sabines taken for marriage to perpetuate a community. The two slabs that do depict Centaurs with women (south 25, 29) show only the attempted abduction and call attention to the awkwardness of any actual coupling. Viewed as a whole, these metopes suggest that the sculptors are more interested in depicting the opposition of male bodies than the violation of female ones. Like the pediment sculptures, the metopes are extraordinary in their representation of drapery, the fabric that indicates the presence of differentiated but coordinated activities of men and women in a well-fabricated human community. The nude bodies of the Lapiths are repeatedly displayed against the fabric of woven capes made by the mothers and wives they are fighting to protect. Kenneth Clark's distinction between nudity and nakedness 84 reminds us that the visible bodies of the Lapiths are not merely exposed as those of animals would be. Rather, they suggest the freedom and equality of citizen soldiers on view to each �86 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW other. Like the Athenian youths who performed a nude armed dance at the Pauathenaia, they exhibit their readiness to protect their threatened community. 85 In contrast to the "nude" Lapiths, the half-animal bodies of the Centaurs, with their lifelike muscles, hairs, and veins, would look strikingly "naked." They are unfettered by the yokes, reins, and bridles with which, elsewhere on the temple, human masters have "clothed" their animals. On the frieze, these signs of human domination were made more visible through the use of paint or real reins or bridles attached to the stone with bronze rivets. Two of the best-executed and best-preserved metopes demonstrate some of the themes sketched above. Both focus our attention on woven cloth as a sign of civilized humanity. The composition of south 27, the sixth slab from the eastern corner, positions the Lapith and Centanr combatants so that their bodies pull away from rather than turn upon each other as Poseidon and Athena do in the West Pediment (Figure 4). The Centaur appears to be trying to remove a spear from his back, and the Lapith is about to strike him again. All the features described above-the upright posture of the man, supported by his two sturdy legs, the exposed human genitals, the unusually low horizontality of the beast, the sunken Centaur head-are present here as in other panels. But the remarkable pulling apart of the two bodies allows the sculptor to concentrate attention on the full folds of the long cape worn by the youth; the eye falls especially on the curved vertical folds between the figures. The cloth, as well as the fact that the nude man FIGURE 4 (Courtesy of A. Nicgorski) �FLAUMENHAFT 87 is carved in much higher relief than the Centaur behind him, separates and makes him stand forth from his surroundings as the naked beasts never do. In his almost threedimensional roundness, this man resembles pediment gods or human stage actors. The open cape FIGURE 5 (Courte-sy of A. Nicgorski) reveals his articulated human body and its dominating and generative powers, but attests also to human shame and the recognition that, for the human, cover and exposure are appropriate in different circumstances. Finally, the sculptor's craft has represented in its own medium the product of the weaver's craft: soft, folded, perishable cloth is captured in hard, rigid, permanent marble. In their drunken rampage, the Centaurs have scattered weapons and jugs about the wedding feast turned war. Techne, in the form of weapons, wine, and weavings, is the trademark of the human; mere force characterizes the non-human. South 28 (Figure 5) functions as a partner to 27. Stunned or dead, a Lapith youth lies flat on the ground, legs useless, arms pinned under him, genitals flaccid, head tipped back. Under him is his crumpled cloak, likely to be his burial shroud when the battle is over. A bucking Centaur, naked chest erect and arm stretched out like the Lapith's in 27, towers above the youth. His carved tail, miraculously intact over the centuries, stands out in triumph, and he grasps a bowl from the wedding feast, perhaps the domestic "weapon" with which he felled the Lapith. Unlike some depictions of Centaurs, the ones on the Parthenon are not shaggy. 86 For the most part, they are naked and unprotected. Therefore, the �88 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW most striking feature of this panel is the extraordinary wild panther skin that hangs upside down from the Centaur's outstretched arm. Part shield, part cloak, it is the complete antithesis of the fabricated cloth that signals the human, even more so since parts of it hang in folds reminiscent of the cloth in other metopes. Here a wild hybrid carries the barely transformed skin of a wild beast, another violently killed victim who never self-consciously faced his killer as human combatants do. The open-fanged jaws and outstretched claws of the dead panther hang directly over the face of the dead Lapith, emphasizing the confrontation of the wild and the civilized. Finally, the combination of man and beast in the triumphant Centaur appears even more monstrous by the additional limbs and tail provided by the draped panther skin. Moving one more slab to the right, the spectator would have faced, in south 29, another frozen moment. An elderly Centaur with short, flabby torso and bald, bearded head low on his chest abducts a struggling young Lapith woman. Her vulnerability and violation are indicated by her torn peplos and exposed naked shoulder and breast. Greek art often displays the kalokagathos-the "noble and good" mannude, as he would have displayed himself in the gymnasium. Respectable women, the wives, mothers, and daughters whose lives were more secluded than those of the men, usually appear clothed, only partly visible to observers. The Lapith girl's crinkly dress reveals her spread legs, although, as we have suggested, the Centaur seems more intent on robbery than on sexual assault. All his strength is concentrated in his left arm and the hand that restrains her powerless hand and holds up her body as he attempts to gallop away. On this Centaur's back, balancing the crinkly dress pressed against his chest, is one of those capes that appear on some of the other metope Centaurs. The garment does not fall naturally on the Centaur's back; rather, this beast with two backs is cloaked only on its human shoulders. Unlike the capes that "frame" the vertical bodies of the nude humans, this one grotesquely emphasizes the monster's hybrid nature; the naked horseflesh �FLAUMENHAFT 89 of its nether part interrupts its downward flow. The "piecrust" edging on the cape will be seen as the characteristic decoration of the cloaks of the young Athenian horsemen of the frieze. Once recognized as a mark of the civilized city and its citizens, it appears even more anomalous on the horse-men that threaten civilized life. The greatest mystery about the south metopes concerns the apparent intrusion of seemingly unrelated material in south 13 through 21. Unfortunately, these scenes are known only through the Carrey drawings, which reveal that the center panels of the Centauromachy contain no Centaurs. Jeffrey Hurwit reviews suggestions that these panels are dramatically (or cinematographically) coherent as a "mythological 'flashback"' in the manner of "similar debriefings in the choral odes of tragedies," and that they may have presented the background story of Ixion and his descendents, or of "early Athenian kings and heroes."87 He suggests that the central panels are not intrusive at all, but relevant to the central purpose of the Parthenon: the celebration of Athena and her city is itself a paradigmatic civic activity. Thus, these carvings may depict Athena and her cult statues. South 19-21 may "have represented the spinning of cloth, the removal of a robe or pep/as in a roll from a loom" and the "disrobing of a stiff, old-fashioned cult-statue (the Athena Polias) in anticipation of the presentation of a new dress: the central events of the Plynteria and Panathenaia come to mind. " 88 As we shall see, these events are represented also at the final destination of the Athenian procession on the east end of the frieze. If, as I have suggested, the Parthenon repeatedly uses woven fabric and the women who weave it as images of the interwoven elements of a coherent enduring community, female woolworkers and dressers at the center of the male Centauromachy make sense. From both ends and at the center of the south side of the Parthenon, the violent Centaurs undermine the foundations of human society: hospitality, marriage, weaving, and civic religion. �90 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW 4. Frieze: Within the Polis At the outermost and highest position of the temple's short east and west ends, the pediments and their sculptures in-theround point to what is beyond and above the city. The external band of "framed" metopes carved in high relief below them on all four sides of the temple depict the struggles of the civilized polis to maintain itself against terrestrial threats in the shape of fully and partially human aliens. Within the columns on the inner structure a three-foot-high ribbon of pictures carved in low relief also wraps around the temple. The frieze is continuous, broken visually only at the four corners of the building. But since it is viewed from outside and below, through the columns, it is also seen as a series of separate scenes like the metopes and like the articulated episodes of Aeschylus's play. Like the Persians, which differs from most tragedies by depicting a contemporary historical rather than a distant mythical event, the frieze differs from other Greek friezes in depicting a contemporary subject; it is a "documentary"" in real place and time: "For the first time in Greek history, it shows mortal human beings." 90 On the inside of the temple we view the city from the inside, at home, at peace: a terrestrial, civilized community attached to and defined by a particular locale. In the play Athens views Persians and examines itself indirectly by looking at them. On the Parthenon frieze Athens looks directly at itself. The Parthenon frieze shows victorious Athenians rather than defeated Persians. The Persians are now remembered, not by preserving ruins and abstaining from civic rituals, but by restoring these rituals at-and even onthe temple. The setting is, once again, the Acropolis. The festival procession that had to be abandoned "when the Persians came" now makes its way through all the important public places in the city, serving once more, but with special meaning, "as a symbolic reappropriation of the city's space by the community." 91 Mourning memory has given way to festive memory. The frieze replaces the flight of the people and Athena from the city to Salamis with the procession of �FLAUMENHAFT 91 the reestablished populace to the new home of the goddess at the center of the city. Like Pericles' funeral oration, the city on the frieze does not emphasize individuality; unlike those of the Centaurs and even the horses, the Athenian faces on the frieze are indistinguishable from each other. 92 Also, unlike the metopes with their opposed pairs, the frieze contains all the elements of a coherent population organized into groups. In characteristic clothing, young and old, male and female, magistrates and citizens, warriors and weavers, and even resident aliens who call this city home, make their way to the east front of the temple. The frieze resembles a story·cloth, wrapped around an enclosed form. Like the city and the building itself, it emphasizes the boundedness of the city. The observer circumnavigates the sides, looking inward towards the center. 93 As we have seen, the final pomp€, "procession," of Aeschylus's tragedy depicts the disintegration of the Persian regime and the shamed ruler's retreat in his tattered pep/as into the private confines of his palace, out of the view of those he has ruined. In contrast, the Panathenaia pomp€ on the frieze depicts an integrated regime in the act of delivering a new pep/as to the goddess and openly displaying the "ruler"-the demos, "people," itself-to the public view. In the Persians, the dramatic action moves forward; the scenes change, while the spectator remains stationary. On the Parthenon, the procession is frozen into stationary stone. But as the spectators move forward towards the front of the temple, the frieze procession itself seems to advance. 94 The spectators in the theater are simultaneously in their own time and that of the play. Likewise the viewers at the temple are in both the time of their own procession and the time of the procession on the frieze. Like the play and the east pediment, the frieze respects the unity of time, and its action too has a beginning (at the southwest corner), middle (on the north and south sides), and end (on the east where the two sides meet). Unlike the framed metopes, which depict separate episodes, the Ionic frieze is a "seamless whole" that can �92 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW present a narrative in "a continuous spatial and temporal flow." 95 "Everything here is ongoing; everything is process."" Various participants turn in different directions, adjust their clothing, and wait, like actors, for their cues. Marshals motion them forward, cavalry and chariot horses wait patiently or rear restlessly, trained acrobats jump on and off chariots, and a sacrificial ox digs in its heels. A selective discussion will once more highlight the way the frieze "remembers" the Persians and defines Athens in the same "vocabulary"-this time pictorial-of yokes, woven fabric, and speech. Again, comparisons with Persian visual art prove instructive. The designers of the Parthenon and many other Athenians were familiar with the great buildings of the eastern empire, and it is likely that some of those who carved its marbles had earlier worked on Persian buildings. Was the Parthenon frieze "an ideological reply to the creation of their old enemy," 97 or, after Athens had avoided the Persian yoke, was "Persian imperial propaganda ... appropriated and adapted by nco-imperialist Athens for the purposes of promoting her own self-image"? 98 On the peripheral pediments, metopes, and frieze of the great democratic temple, the differences from Persian buildings are more striking than the suggested "appropriations." But, as we shall see, in the innermost chamber of the temple, the viewer is sharply aware that Athens, too, "required an empire, but an empire different from any that had ever existed." 99 Let us look again at the relief on the Apadana (throne room) staircase at Persepolis. It depicts foreigners in procession, bearing gifts to the Persian king. Their clothing is repetitive, stiff, and stylized; no animated human body is revealed or enhanced by the heavy robes of the Persians or the simple tunics of their subjects. The foreign groups are distinguished from each other in dress, gifts, and the animals that accompany them but, like Xerxes' army of soldiers, they are all alike in the most important respect, their enslavement. They march stiffly, in single file, all in the same position, at the same distance from each other. 100 The individuals are �FLAUMENHAFT 93 isolated even as they form a unit. The loss or addition of a few figures would have little effect for, like Xerxes' armies, they are not woven together into a coherent whole. Their sameness suggests that the army of craftsmen who made them were also "under the yoke." The figures are clearly carved, with beards, hands, and feet making pleasing decorative patterns like those in interior tiling or wallpaper. But they lack animation and will of their own, neither gesturing to nor speaking with one another. Individual figures or groups are regularly tepeated so there is no narrative in time, no illusion of motion. The effect is mesmerizing and intimidating, and reduces the viewer to "gaze in something like awe-from prostration level." 101 Another Persepolis relief shows Persian subjects carrying the king on his throne. They too are all the same; he is unique, above, and much larger than they. They serve as the patterned architectural support on which his weight presses.1 02 The difference in size is also seen in a rock relief at Bisutun on which captured rebel kings approach Darius.l 03 The location of this impressive carving is itself interesting. It sits high on a cliff overlooking a mountain, inaccessible, like the Persepolis Apadana, to the sight of Persians as if it were meant for the realm to which the King aspired-the whole world. Unlike the Parthenon in the middle of Athens, this monument in the middle of nowhere-or everywhere-bears an inscription, the same words that begin all public utterances of the King: "Proclaims Darius the king ... " The picture of the diminished and yoked human beings before him conveys the same political principle as the words: absolute despotism. On the Persepolis staircase the camels, mules, and horses are reined and bitted. On the Bisutun monument the hands of the captured kings are tied behind their backs. Forced to face their conquering master, they cannot look at or speak with each other. The metaphor of Aeschylus's choruses and the Queen's dream is depicted on the cliff at Bisitun: the captive kings are literally yoked together by the cord around their necks. �94 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW In contrast to the Persian unity of repetition, the long and varied Parthenon frieze conveys the dynamic unity of the city it celebrates. Among the Greek cities, the Athenians alone celebrated their unification in a public festival. 104 Civic mythology told how, long before the building of the Parthenon, Theseus united a number of independent communities to "live together," szmoikeo, in a single city. No longer held together by a single monarch, the democratic citizens on the frieze walk in pairs or groups that articulate them into sub-classes of the city. Unlike the mass pictures on Persian palaces and rock reliefs, the Athenian participants are neither unconnected individuals nor yoked teams, but autonomous and willing parts of an organized whole. The frieze conveys their freedom-the same freedom Pericles describes in the funeral oration-in several ways. The people are local citizens, not foreign subject peoples of other nations. They are self-organized. Marshals resembling their fellow citizens in size and dress are stationed at various points to keep an eye on the parts of the procession and to direct them to move at the right times. There is no all-seeing agent of an unseen monarch supervising the action. Other city magistrates at the east end take part in the central ceremony of the festival, the folding of the goddess's festal robe. The figures on the frieze differ in size, but not as in the Persian murals. In order to fit the frieze horses into the confines of the three-foot band, the sculptors made them the size of ponies, and the bulls being led to the sacrifice are no taller than their human masters. There is no colossal Great King or Pharaoh towering above his subjects. In the selfgoverning democratic city, only the gods are larger than the citizens; seated, they are the same height as the standing humans who deliver offerings to the only beings they recognize as above them. The rest of the frieze figures are distinguished into ranks of horses, lines of chariots, pedestrians, bearers of various implements and, on the east side, the only mortal women depicted on the temple. Unlike the figures in Persian frieze processions, the Athenian participants �FLAUMENHAFT 95 take different positions, and look in different directions. Unlike yoked non-Persian processors, here even nonAthenian metics, who carry trays and parasols, willingly weave their way in the procession to the front of the temple. Only animals are reined or yoked together. The beautiful horses on the frieze are separated from their human handlers who coordinate animal strength with human needs in finely wrought chariots. Unlike the diminished Persian subjects, these zeugei pompikoi,' 05 "yoked processionals," seem to have their nature enhanced by their participation in the civic festival. They might remind us of the story of that mule who returned of his own will, unyoked, to further the work on the temple. Elsewhere on the frieze, graceful young riders recall that Athena was also the "horse-taming goddess." Hers is the power that enables men to train and work with horses, rather than merely to subjugate them by force. The bulls and sheep, as objects of sacrifice, are more mere instruments of their human masters. But, like that of the weary pediment horse described above, the depiction of the resisting "heifer lowing at the skies" 106 reveals an extraordinary sensitivity to the psychic dimension even of mastered animals. Persian bulls and horses seem stiff and unanimated in comparison. The frieze unfurls in a horizontal band, but there are no prostrate subjects, dying La piths or half-horizontal Centaurs. The posture of free citizens is upright. As if to underline the free character of the event, the frieze includes among the chariots, acrobatic contestants, apobatai, about whom little is known, but who seem to have shown their agility by jumping on and off moving chariots in competitions. It is sometimes suggested that they represent the freedom and flexibility of the Athenian hoplite warriors who, to the perplexity of historians, are not represented on the frieze. Most importantly like Herodotus, Thucydides, and Aeschylus, who all point to free speech as the key distinction between Persians and Athenians, the Parthenon frieze depicts Athens' citizens communicating with each other. Marshals beckon, horsemen and pairs of girls chat, magistrates converse in groups, and the chief �96 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW archon instructs the child who helps him fold the pep/as. In their freedom to speak-to describe, deliberate, and disagree-the human members of this city resemble their gods, who, on the frieze, are also depicted in conversation. The procession begins at the southwest corner of the temple. The first figure on the west side-the one farthest from the front-is a nude young man who is arranging his large cloth mantle as the procession is about to begin. Most of the figures are clothed. The Parthenon frieze, like the metopes and like the peplos ceremony of the Panathenaic festival itself, repeatedly draws our attention to the ways in which human beings cover their bodies.l 07 Along three sides, the moving spectator sees at intervals marchers who are adjusting their clothing, belts, or footwear as they progress forward. The clothing of the figures on all sides of the temple articulates them into groups, identifiable by cloaks, tunics, hats, and footwear. The fabrics also indicate motion, speed, and the direction of the procession and contribute to our sense of real live activity on the frieze. The frieze also depicts many objects-chariots, bridles, pots, trays, and stoolsfabricated by this technologically sophisticated people. Interestingly, it shows no buildings, agreeing perhaps with those who evacuated to Salamis, that the Athenian polis could survive even if its buildings were destroyed, as long as its political and ritual activities were maintained. The long north and south sides of the frieze exhibit the male warriors of Athens, unarmed, at peace. Modern viewers have puzzled over the depiction of archaic chariot warriors rather than fifth century hoplites. Some explain it as supporting Pericles' expansion of the Athenian cavalry. Others claim that the 192 figures (if you count right) on the frieze were meant to represent the 192 hoplite soldiers who fell at Marathon as they participated in the last Panathenaia before the battle. 108 The depiction of young men guiding spirited yet orderly horses suggests the character of the city Pericles describes in the Funeral Oration. It is a stark contrast to the dream that the Persian Queen describes in Aeschylus's �FLAUMENHAFT 97 play. As we saw in Part One, the submissive and the spirited women pull against each other when Xerxes yokes them to pull his chariot. The chariot horses on the frieze have more in common with the horses that pull the chariots of the gods in the corners of the west pediment. These horses and humans who, unlike centaur horse-men, are fully distinguished from each other, are nevertheless a masterpiece of intertwining elements. Here the technical art of perspectival carving in extremely shallow bas-relief produces a stone picture that looks almost like a flat woven mat. Once again, the interweaving of the figures suggests the way in which this city is bound together. A computer video in the British Museum turns the chariot horses to show how they would look if they faced the viewer. As the figures turn, the frieze resembles a weaving that, stretched in different directions, reveals but does not unravel the separate strands of which it is fabricated. The horses and humans in the frieze procession "hold together" as individuals do in the Athenian polis, but not in Persia. As the procession weaves its way forward, slowing as it approaches its destination, the culminating scene takes center stage and is "framed" by the two central columns of the eastern front. The frame is structural and therefore more prominent than the changing "frames" the viewer makes for himself as he progresses towards the pep/as scene (Figure 6); this makes this scene "static and eternalized." 1' ' Many viewers feel that the procession also becomes "hushed" or "silenf' at this point, as all senses focus on the most important human FIGURE 6 (Courtesy of A. Nicgorski) �98 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW fabrication on the frieze. It is literally a woven fabric. Below the pediment depicting the birth of Athena are pictured the city's chief ceremonial magistrate, the archon basileus ("king archon"), his young assistant, and the goddess's birthday pep/as. That they are folding, and not just holding, the pep/as points to the integrity and continuity of the city, for they are preparing to put it away, according to the custom of the past, for the dressing of the image in the future.uo The confidence about continuity and the future is also suggested by the participation of children in the ritual. It is a stark contrast to the dead-end feel of the Persians, where Aeschylus's young and childless king withdraws in pathetic pompe in his tattered pep/as. The ritually woven story-doth, which may have been painted on the marble in bright yellow and purple, depicted the victory of gods over Giants, the subject of the east metopes. Its making and its part in Athena's festival symbolize the way in which Athens itself is "woven" together. Evelyn Harrison observes that, like the one on Keats's Grecian Urn, "this is a picture of a folk." 111 By "brede/ of marble men and maidens," Keats means both "breed" and "braid." Like the urn pictures, the chiseled Parthenon "folk" resembles a "braided" tapestry. Horizontal lines are still visible "to serve as a sort of warp for the design." 112 Like the gods who overcame the Giants, these citizens were able to overcome the Persians because they were politically "well-woven." This is what Athenians meant when they said they were "worthy of the pep/os." 113 The web of state, or fabric of society, is the product of the interweaving of warp and weft: male and female, public and private, and, as the Eleatic Stranger explains in the Statesman, of courage and moderation. In his description of the ruling art, the true statesman, like the master weaver, supervises and interweaves all the subordinate activities of the city. After preparing a multiplicity of single strands of wool, he combines them in a tightly woven, but freely flexible, unity. Unlike autocratic tyrannies like Persia, where difference is regarded as rebellion, and ropes, bridges, and fetters bind �FLAUMENHAFT 99 unrelated parts into a rigid, unnatural "whole," the Greek city thrives on the "tension" between its different elements.l 14 It holds together from within, like a well-woven fabric or, as we have seen, like the pantheon of the gods. The designers of the Parthenon suggest that a "smooth web," which is smooth not despite, but because of its tension, can be achieved in a law-abiding democracy as well as in the virtuous monarchy described by the Stranger. Here, too, statesmanship has interwoven raw materials, tools, vessels, servants, laborers, merchants, ship owners, clerks, heralds, soothsayers, and priests into a working whole. Plutarch's description of Athens, coordinated and collaboratively at work on Pericles' building projects comes to mind. But the statesmanship is that of citizen magistrates, not monarch. The eastern side of the frieze depicts women, not as objects in the hands of Centaurs, but as active members of a flourishing society, the producers of the city's swaddling cloths, everyday garments, and ceremonial fabrics for the living, as well as shrouds for the dead. Again, we should emphasize that the weaving pictured here is not private but civic work. The loom for weaving, like the plough for planting and the press for making olive oil, is a domestic peacetime contrivance of the armed goddess who, at other times, champions the warriors who defend her city. Near the end of the procession, Athena appears without her helmet and weapons with the aegis in her lap. Here we see the worker goddess, Athena Ergane, the patroness of shipbuilders, woodworkers, and weavers like the ergastinai who wove the peplos, seated, appropriately, with the metalworking smith, Hephaestus, who split Zeus's skull with his ax, enabling Athena to be "born." Like the gods on the pediments, the gods seated together at the head of the frieze procession are multiple strands that together make up a unified whole. They too are a "folk." Like the rest of the frieze figures, they present a silent story to be articulated by the viewer. Each divinity is identifiable by distinctive looks or by conventional tags, some in the form of �100 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW objects that were once attached to or painted on the marble reliefs: Apollo's headband (drill holes remain), Poseidon's trident (now missing from his left hand), Hermes' hat, Ares' club, Athena's aegis, Hera's veil, and Zeus's throne (the others are on simpler, backless, stools). Each god has a special position with respect to the others, either by genealogy and history or by what each personifies. But not even a god is autonomous or self-sufficient. None can even be himself until woven into the pantheon in the context of the others. In some places, the perspective of the low relief carving makes their limbs look entwined or interwoven. They lean against each other (Hermes-Dionysus, Poseidon-Apollo, ErosAphrodite), and refiect each other in their arm gestures (Dionysus, Hera, Apollo) and veils (Hera-Aphrodite). Jenifer Neils suggests that those in the right hand group, which includes Poseidon, are associated with ports, the sea, and naval battle. They are balanced by those of the left hand group, which includes Demeter; these are associated with the countryside, agriculture, and land battle. All together, she claims, the gods remind the viewer of the completeness of the recent Athenian victory over the Persians. 115 Their overlapping draped garments also unify them in an integrated group. Like the garments everywhere on the Parthenon, where there is little nudity,'" these are remarkable. Except for the child Eros, the gods, like the frieze Athenians, are all clothed in rippling, crinkly, folding, fiexible material that conforms to the lifelike bodies beneath it. Athena's peplos is carefully pinned at the shoulder and tucked under her legs; Artemis wears a head cloth and modestly adjusts her gown to cover her shoulder, and her skirted robe falls about her differently positioned legs in a different way from Athena's. The Athenian people, "worthy of the pep/os," worship gods whose clothing is tailored for anthropomorphic bodies. How are the frieze Olympians related to the frieze Athenians? Some claim that the gods turn away and show little interest in the procession in honor of the goddess. 117 But �FLAUMENHAFT 101 Neils revives a view that they are sitting in a semicircle and thus are attending to the central pep/as scene "before" them. us Viewers of the frieze who think of the "row" of gods this way visually deepen the low-relief carving and bring out its "texture." Like the flattened ranks of horses, the gods and humans appear as they might in a woven tapestry. So the gods are both interested and not interested in the mortals who honor them. As at Troy, they can turn away to pursue their amours, quarrels, and conversations. But, as Homer shows, the most serious and interesting activities of the gods who live on Olympus are the ones that are interwoven with those of mortals on earth. Athena is as interesting as a strand in Homer's stories of Achilles and Odysseus and in Aeschylus's accounts of the founding of the Athenian court and defeat of the Persians as she is in her own story. The Parthenon gives us the gods both on their own and woven into our mortal stories. The frieze offers the Athenians a picture of themselves that is also worthy of the gods' attention. The human festival is, after all, the reason they have gathered together in Athens. The only other place where they assemble in this fashion is at home on Olympus. Now they have accepted seats of honor and look relaxed, keeping their distance from the mortals yet prepared to stay and grace the holiday with their presence. There is time to be passed before the animals are sacrificed and the meat is distributed in the Keramikos at some distance from the temple. The Gods, who dine on nectar and ambrosia, do not appear eager for the festival feast. Mortal fighting, yoking, and weaving require mortal eating. But the gods who live forever have leisure just to look and to talk. Some of them view the approaching procession. Aphrodite points out something to young Eros, who perhaps has seen fewer of these events than the others have. And others, Zeus and Hera, Athena and Hephaestus, and Poseidon and Apollo, turn to each other and converse, just like the rwo groups of five magistrates fianking them. If the pep/as has already been displayed and is now being folded away, the culminating �102 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW scene of the frieze illustrates the purpose of the temple as a memorial of the Persian attempt to destroy Athens. The Persians have come and gone. In Athens, the gods who live forever participate in the Athenian Panathenaia; Athena's pep/as-and the people "worthy of the peplos"-endure. 5. Statue: Parthenos, Polis, Empire As they arrived at the front side of the Parthenon the spectators would first see the eastern pediment depicting the birth of Athena. Beneath it the eastern metopes showed the goddess's battle with the Giants. From between the central columns her birthday pep/as on the frieze would be visible. But the extraordinary visual displays we have discussed so far were all only wrappings, the decorative coverings of the house of the goddess herself. Ancient visitors to the temple do not even mention the frieze, but all marvel at the statue. Deep within, in her own private chamber, Athena Parthenos stood alone, visible and awesome in looks and size, to the "folk" that came to her birthday party. Unlike the Great King in his Persepolis throne room, this divinity was made to be seen. But Pheidias's masterpiece can no longer be seen. Pausanias's descriptions, some ancient souvenir statuettes, a small Roman copy, the Varvakeion Athena (Figure 7) and other statues of the type, are all that's left to shape our understanding of the famous statue and what it could have meant when the Parthenon was the highpoint of the Athenian polis. The full-size, concrete reproduction in the FIGURE 7 (Courtesy of A. Nicgors.ki) �FLAUMENHAFT 103 unlikely setting of Nashville, Tennessee has attracted much popular and scholarly attention, but it is hard to believe that the Parthenos could have looked like that. The size of the little korai statues presented with petitionary prayers of individual Athenians to the familiar wooden image of Athena Polias 119 suggests the personal attachment and affection that those who brought them felt for their domestic goddess. The bronze Athena Promachos is larger than the human warriors she would lead in warding off a threat to their city; outdoors and approachable, she stands "foremost" but at ease among them. We have seen how the Parthenon, unlike the colossal buildings of other places, is large, but somehow commensurate with human size aud the capacity to take it in. This is true, despite the fact that Pheidias deliberately made it larger than the earlier "Parthenon" on its site so that it could contain the statue he intended to put in it. Similarly, the large size of Athena on the east frieze is subtly suggested by her seated position, but does not overwhelm either the mortals depicted near her or the mortal viewers of the frieze. But the standing 120 Parthenos statue, although of human shape, was colossal, almost forty feet tall, far beyond human scale. She was the power behind the most powerful city in the world. Full-breasted and clothed in an Athenian pep/as, she would not have resembled the human-sized Amazons at the edges of the city. She held iu her extended right hand a much smaller statue of Nike, the goddess of victory, that was almost six feet tall. Athena Parthenos stood ready and armed, with the Gorgon aegis not resting on her lap as in the frieze, but as visible armor over her pep/as. Her helmet, crowned with sphinx and griffins, had its earfiaps up to indicate peacetime, but it was on her head, and she held her spear. Her shield was engraved with the familiar subjects of fighting Amazons and Giants, and her sandals depicted, once again, the Centauromachy. Here, as elsewhere in the building, Athena's defense of Athens in contemporary times is associated with her defeat of these earlier threats. But now the victor over the Giants is herself a �104 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW giant. The folds of her giant pep/as recall the stiff, fiuted columns of her giant temple more than they resemble the soft and folding fabrics we have been observing elsewhere in the Parthenon. Like the Zeus at Olympia, the Parthenos was marveled at for its size and for the materials it was made of: the bright white ivory of her face and arms, the gemstones of her eyes, and the gold of her clothing and equipment. Unlike the olivewood Polias that fell from the sky, perhaps as a gift from Zeus, the Parthenos was admired as the fabrication of an extraordinary Athenian artist. Just as the later, world-famous statue at Olympia was Pheidias's Zeus, this masterpiece was Pheidias's Athena, the product of human imagination and technical prowess at their peak. In contrast to the smaller, worn, wooden slab, this Athena was huge, hard, and very heavy. The plates of gold that formed her dress weighed almost a ton. The atmosphere inside the temple was mysterious and unsettling, illuminated by window light reflected from a pool at the statue's base. The shimmering water and light must have suggested a sort of animation in the immense and immovable stone figure. The beauty of the Parthenos was reportedly breathtaking. She must have been deinos, simultaneously "terrifying" and "terrific," "awful" and "a\vesotne." Unlike the (probably) seated wooden doll that received female ministrations and petitions, and unlike the seated and sociable Athena of the east frieze, Pheidias's goddess was upright and alone. Unlike the statuesque Persian Queen, who is humanized by what she says, the Parthenos was silent. She did not communicate with the mortals who came to see her. Gifts were not presented to her or animals sacrificed at her altar, and no priestess interpreted messages from her. Since the huge, flat, ivory face was fastened to the surface and removable-like the theater mask of Xerxes' mother-it must have been less realistic and human than some of the more expressive marble faces elsewhere on the temple. The size of the immense, white hands, one holding a man-sized statue �FLAUMENHAFT 105 and the other balancing an enormous spear and shield, must have appeared proportionally larger than the neck and face, because they were closer to the viewer. Could one still see in this colossus the goddess of handiwork, Athena Ergane, the "worker," with hands on a woodcarving, pot, or loom? Or would her hands suggest those of great Achilles, whose great man-slaying hands ruthlessly killed Priam's son? As we have seen, the Persians and Egyptians made such statues, sometimes so large that they had to lie prone on the ground. They were usually the images of Kings and Pharaohs, who represented themselves as all-powerful, even divine, in their homelands and as entitled to the universal empires they aspired to outside. Does the colossal Athena still celebrate, as the outer parts of the temple do, the bounded, self-governing city and its victory over the despotic juggernaut that sought to yoke it and deprive it of speech? Or is she, deep within the temple, the embryo of the imperial Athens destined to emerge in the fifty years following the Persian Wars? Paradoxically, in preserving what it viewed as its fully free way of life, Athena's city, democratic within, was becoming despotic without. The rule (arche) that began in self-defense against an everexpanding despot soon became the ever-expanding means for maintaining the extraordinary expense of its extraordinary achievements. But necessity-for defense or for maintenance-was just the prologue to full-scale empire (arche) in the Athenian mode. The necessary means soon became an end in itself as empire became the full expression of Athenian glory. Thucydides' account of the war between Athens and its erstwhile ally Sparta alludes frequently to Athens' erstwhile imperial enemy Persia. The Persians had always exhibited the King's valuable possessions as a means of displaying his power. After the Persian wars, Athens, contrary to its earlier customs, began to exhibit the valuable trophies left by the fleeing Persian army. In 454 B.C., the year the Delian treasury was moved to Athens, each of her colonies and "allies" marched in the Panathenaic procession with an offering of a �106 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW cow and a full suit of armor. Some of these "allies" must uneasily have remembered the Great King's demands for earth and water several decades before. The Parthenon frieze does not picture tribute-bearing allies, armed Athenians, or alien slaves. But as Athens grew rich and powerful she began to display herself, not only as the producer of dramas, games, festivals, and art, but as a city worthy of power, as well as the pep/as. The empire itself soon became part of the display. Pericles' three speeches in Thucydides make clear that the internal glory of Athens required external support, often at the expense of those who did not participate in the democratic life that Pericles describes. In contrast to the Persian yoke, weaving has been the appropriate metaphor for Athenian democratic politics. But Athens' appropriation of the resources of the unraveling Delian League was destined to conclude with the unraveling of Athens itself. Pericles does not use the word "yoke" in his tough arguments for Athenian rule over the former allies; nor do the Athenians who later present Melos with their ultimatum. But the Melians know they must choose between subjugation and death. Just as Athens had become the only independent city in the Delian League, its nominal democracy had become the rule of one citizen (Thuc., 2.65). And Athena, comfortably interwoven with her fellow gods on the Parthenon frieze, had reappeared like Darius, in the depths of her temple, huge and shimmering, overpowering and alone. As an expensive war with Sparta became increasingly likely, Pericles assured the Athenians that they had at their disposal tribute from the allies, public and private dedications, sacred vessels, Persian spoils, and temple treasures. Several decades before, Aeschylus had vividly contrasted the private gold of the Great King with the communally owned silver of the city that defeated him. Xerxes' stage-mother asserts that he is accountable to no one. Now Pericles reminded the Athenians that the pep/as of Pheidias's statue was not a soft woolen fabric like that of Athena Polias, but one of solid gold. But it, too, could be removed. For, when �FLAUMENHAFT 107 Pheidias began his masterpiece, Pericles had advised him to make the pep los detachable (Plut. Pericles., XXXI). 121 Pericles now reminded the assembly that the goddess was there not only to be looked at, but also to finance their "safety," and that no ally need be consulted. As long as they replaced the loan, they could make use of "the gold plates with which the goddess herself was overlaid" (Thuc., 2.13). By this time, the storeroom of the Parthenon was the depository of the Delian League treasury that had been moved to Athens. Within the lifetime of the men who had survived Salamis, the building that began as a memorial of free Athens' defeat of imperial Persia metamorphosed into a monument to imperial Athens. In truth, the building was less a "temple" in which to worship a goddess than the city's icon of its own power and a secure storehouse for its usable resources; it had become "the central bank of Athens." 122 Reversing Themistocles' pre-Salamis strategy of evacuating the population from Athens and depending on a "wooden wall" of ships, Pericles' first speech advised outdwelling Athenians to "bring in their property from the fields" and "come into the city" (Thnc., 1.143; 2.113) behind the walls Themistocles had hurriedly built in anticipation of war with Sparta. Donald Kagan points out that Pericles recognized this strategy as an attempt to overcome "problems presented by natnre" by turning mainland Athens into a more defensible "island" (Time., 1.143).123 One is reminded, not only of Salamis, but also of the "unnatural" projects of Persian and other barbarian overreachers to "yoke" the Hellespont, turn peninsulas into islands, and reroute rivers by digging channels. Thucydides says it was hard for a rural Athenian to leave behind his town (polis) and the ancient form of government (po/iteia) of his father (Time., 2.14). When these suburban Athenians had come into the city-here he says astu (Thuc., 2.17), the physical surroundings-they had nowhere to go, so they camped in deserted places, and in sanctuaries and shrines. The Acropolis and Parthenon were off-limits. But many crowded into land at the foot of the �108 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW Acropolis-land that an oracle had warned against inhabiting-and in areas between the Long Walls, and in the Piraeus (Thuc., 2.17). Just before Pericles' second speech, the funeral oration, Thucydides says that the Athenian army that invaded Megaris with Pericles as its general was "the largest army of Athenians that had ever been assembled in one body" (Thuc., 2.31). His enumeration of the different parts of this force reminds one of Aeschylus's descriptions of the Great King's army in the earlier war. His Persian Queen would have been satisfied with this numerical account of Athenian strength. The funeral oration is the more subtle account of the source of Athenian strength, the one the Queen could not appreciate. The free city that defeated the Persians is to be celebrated and loved for the character of its life: its political institutions, laws, physical beauty, wisdom, and the character of its citizens. Athens is open to all the world; no one is prevented "from learning or seeing" (mathematos e theamatos, Time., 2.39); the city is an exhibit, a school, from which all Hellas can learn (Thuc., 2.41). But as Pericles continues, it becomes clear that Athens is not a large enough stage on which to exhibit its own excellence, and that he is thinking of a wider audience than even Hellas. The delimited city that once remembered the Persians is now offered the prospect of being honored and remembered forever by the whole civilized world. Its citizens can win glory by fixing their gaze, not only on the city but on the "power [dzmamin] of the city" (Thuc., 2.43). Athens' power must be displayed in the great theater of war and only colonies or defeated enemies will serve as "everlasting memorials" (mnemeia ... aidia, Thuc., 2.41) of her greatness. Immediately after Pericles' celebration of Athens in the funeral oration (2.34-46), Thucydides describes the plague, making it clear that it was exacerbated by the crowding of the country people into the city (again called astu): now even temples were filled with corpses and "No fear of gods or law of men restrained" (Thuc., 1.53). It is unlikely that Athena's temple on the Acropolis remained unviolated. Plutarch says �FLAUMENHAFT 109 that Pericles' enemies blamed him for the plague, attributing it not only to the crowding, but also to the idleness of the multitudes of men who were "pent up like cattle with no employ or service" (Plut., Pericles. XXXIV). We might remember his earlier enthusiastic description of the opportunities for employment and prosperity that Pericles' building projects had provided. Pericles' third and last speech is a sober acknowledgement of the Athenians' sufferings and an exhortation not to allow these private ills to jeopardize the "common safety" (Thnc., 2.61). But "freedom" no longer means defying the Great King's demands for "earth and water" and halting the expansion of the Persian Empire. Athens and Sparta, as different as they were, could willingly "yoke" themselves together to avoid subjugation by Persia. Here Pericles speaks again of the relationship between Athens' expanding "empire," her drive to supersede her own limits, and the necessary subjugation of her erstwhile ally: ... of two divisions of the world which lie open to man's use, the land and the sea, you hold the absolute mastery over the whole of one ... to whatever fuller extent you may choose; and there is no one, either the Great King or any nation ... who will block your path as you sail the seas ... Nor must you think that you are fighting for the simple issue of slavery or freedom; on the contrary, loss of empire is also involved and danger from the hatred incurred in your sway. From this empire, however, it is too late for you even to withdraw ... for by this time the empire you hold is a tyranny, which may seem unjust to have taken, but which certainly it is dangerous to let go. (Time., 2.62-63) Pericles reminds his discontented fellow citizens that their fathers acquired, preserved, and bequeathed the empire to them, giving Athens a "great name" (Thuc., 2.64), �110 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW presumably one far greater than the "Athens" that Darius wanted to be reminded of, and than the Persian names which had frightened all Greeks until Athens defeated Xerxes. Pericles' last words are again about how, even as all things decay, the memory (mneme) of the glorious Athenian enterprise will endure; the "splendour of the moment and the after-glory are left in everlasting remembrance" (aeimnestos, Time., 2.64). The ivory skin and golden pep/as of Pheidias's Athena seem to have remained on the statue through the end of the Peloponnesian War. But she must have provided a kind of political and psychological support for the empire that was incubating as Pericles beautified and glorified the city. Thucydides recounts how internally democratic Athens became as brutal and denatured to its external subordinatesand eventually to itself-as the internally despotic tyranny of Persia had been in its expansion. But the silent Parthenon tells a much more tragic story than the one Aeschylus dramatized for his fellow citizens. For Athens at her peak exemplified a human way of life more noble and more natural than overextended Persian despotism, despite the latter's impressive multiplication of territory, people, buildings, and gold. The story of Athens is tragic, rather than merely sad or repellent, for the same reason the story of Oedipus is tragic: the terrible collapse comes about not, as in Persia, because of grotesque suppressions and distortions of the human soul, but precisely as a result of the full exercise of human capacities: selfgovernment, mastery of the sea, poetry, mathematics, philosophy, art, and architecture, and the free human speech that makes it all possible. It is difficult simply to say that we'd prefer for Oedipus or Athens to have been more "moderate." Pericles urged restraint, even as he cultivated an Athenian love for Athens that was bound to end up as an eros for Sicily (Time., 6.24). His ward, Alcibiades, the man most in love with the Sicilian expedition, was disastrously recalled to Athens in a ship called the "Salaminia." In the first half of the century, Phrynichus and Aeschylus made it possible in the �FLAUMENHAFT 111 theater for the surviving Athenians to weep for Miletus and even for the Mede. As Athens completed the building intended to remember its own razing and restoration, the city hurtled forward to the events described in Thucydides' terrible account. The colossal Athena within that building was the terrible image of power that Pericles said would insure the survival of Athens' name. The shining, bright monument to Marathon and Salamis could not deter the dark, bloody massacres at Mytilene, Melos, and Mycalessus. In some terrible way, it contributed to them. 6. Pandora We come at last to our last Athenian pep/os. The pedestal of the statue of Athena depicted another carved gathering of the gods at another birthday celebration of yet another parthenos, the maiden Pandora. Hesiod gives two accounts of the world's first human woman; in both, she and the gods are the source of all of mankind's troubles. 124 After Prometheus defied Zeus by giving fire to human beings, Zeus ordered Hephaestus and Athena to produce a counter-gift, a "beautiful evil" (kalon kako11), in response to Prometheus's empowering gift. Hephaestus mixed earth and water and fashioned a lovely maiden, Pandora, "all-gifts." Athena taught her to do needlework and to weave the "skillfully embroidered" (po/udaidaloll) web. She dressed and veiled her, and the other goddesses adorned her with finery. A surviving cup shows Athena in her own shawl and aegis, pinning the peplos on the new-made girl. 125 Everyone knows the end of the story: Pandora opened the jar of "all gifts," releasing them upon previously free and unburdened man, forcing him to "bow his neck to the yoke of hard necessity." 126 Along with the blessings of fire, agriculture, and weaving, man now possessed the curses of disease, war, and slavery. The source of human ills, of course, is human nature itself, and Athens understood itself as the paradigmatically human city. The tragic account of Athens' glory that we read in Thucydides' long discursive book can also be "read" in the emerging �112 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW empire's most impressive building. Like Pandora, the "beautiful evil" made by Hephaestus, and like the terrible events depicted in the tragedy that Aeschylus and Pericles made beautiful for the theater, the monument that Pheidias and Pericles made beautiful on the Acropolis is a kalon kakon: the story of the Parthenon and the stories that it tells show Athens in full flower, and also show the seeds of her selfdestruction. This story began with an account of Aeschylus's Persians, a humane view of the tragedy of an empire that attempted to subjugate free Greek cities under the yoke and mantle of worldwide tyranny. As different as they were, the defensive alliance that voluntarily yoked Athens and Sparta together succeeded in preserving them-and their differences. Decades later, having torn each other and themselves apart in the war that Thucydides attributes to Athens' own pursuit of empire, Alcibiades, who had spent the war bouncing from Athens to Sparta, to Thrace, to Persia, suggested that the two former allies might achieve true glory if they once again yoked themselves together to oppose Persia. This time the alliance would not be defensive, but aggressive, with the aim of establishing a Pan-Hellenic empire. The project could never work since, as we observed above, the yoking of nnlike partners, even under Darius or Xerxes, is bound to be temporary. Athens and Sparta were too different to ally for joint conquest, in contrast to defense, and Alcibiades was nurtured in Pericles' Athens, not in the palace at Persepolis. His last wild scheme collapsed completely as the Spartans entered Athens, unopposed, seventy-six years after the battle of Salamis. There is no play describing that event. �FLAUMENHAFT 113 Bibliography All the images discussed are available online at many websites. Any reliable search engine will locate a large selection. They can also be found in the following, easily available, books: Athens: Bruno, Vincent J. The Parthenon. New York: \'7.\V. Norton, 1974. Connolly, Peter and Hazel Dodge. The Ancient City: Life in Classical Athens and Rome. New York: Oxford University Press, 2000. Hurwit, Jeffrey .M. The Athenian Acropolis: History, Mythology, and Archaeology from the Neolithic Era to the Present. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Jenkins, Ian. The Parthenon Frieze. Oakville: British Museum Press, 1994. Neils, Jenifer. The Parthenon Frieze. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001. ~~-~-· YVorshipping Athena: Panatheuaia and Parthenon. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1996. Neils, Jenifer, ed. Goddess and Polis. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992. \Voodford, Susan. The Parthenon. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1981. Persia: Allen, Lindsay. The Persian Empire. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005. WiesehOfer, Josef. Ancient Persia. London: LB. Tauris & Co., 2001. Notes 37 Donald Kagan, Pericles of Athens and the Birth of Democracy (New York, 1991), p. 161-62. 38 Jeffrey M. Hurwit, The Athenian Acropolis: History, Mythology, and Archaeology from the Neolithic Era to the Present (Cambridge, 1999), p. 74. 39 40 Pausanias, I.xxvi, declines to comment on the truth of this story. Peploi were given to Athena in the rituals of other Greek cities; Athens seems to have been the only place where the "garment was actually placed upon the statue." E. J. W. Barber "The Peplos of Athena," in �THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW 114 Jenifer Neils, ed., Goddess and Polis (Hanover, New Hampshire, 1992), p. 106. Perhaps the earliest description of such a presentation is described in Book Six of the Iliad, when the desperate women of Troy under siege make such an offering in hope of her aid. \Vhen she prepares to go to the aid of the Greeks, she takes off her "soft peplos, that she herself had made and her hands had fashioned" (VIII.385-86) and dons the tunic of Zeus and her armor. 41 Barber, in Neils (1992), p.llO. 42 The festival and evidence for its changes over time are described in detail by Hurwit (1999) and H.\V. Parke, Festivals of the Athenians (Ithaca, New York, 1977), pp. 29-50. See also Jenifer Neils, "The Panathenaia: An Introduction," in Neils (1992), pp. 13-27. H. A. Shapiro, "Democracy and Imperialism: the Panathenaia in the Age of Perikles," in Jenifer Neils, ed., \Vorshipping Athena: Panathenaia and Parthenon (Madison, Wisconsin, 1996), 215-25. 43 Kagan, p. 168. 44 Jan Collie, Hidden London (London, 2002). · 45 Brunilde Sismondo Ridgeway, "Images of Athena on the Akropolis,, in Neils (1992), 122-42, p. 122; Peter Connolly and Hazel Dodge, The Ancient City: Life in Classical Athens and Rome (New York, 2000), p. 12. 46 Hurwit, p.136. 47 Russell Meigs, "The Political Implications of the Parthenon,, in The Parthenon, ed. Vincent J. Bruno (New York, 1975), p. 103, citing the orator Lycurgus, Against Leocrates 81. 48 Plutarch's Lives, Pericles, XII, Vol. III, trans. Bernadotte Perrin (Cambridge, Mass., 1967), p. 37. Subsequent references will be given in the text. 49 Kagan, p. 37 50 Meigs, 51 p. 111. Allen, pp. 93-4. 52 Pausanias, I.xx. 53 Joseph Wieseh6fer, Ancient Persia (New York, 2001), p. 34. 54 Persians, 979, and Hall, n. 979, p. 172. 55 Donald N. Wilber, Persepolis: The Archaeology of Parsa, Seat of Persian Kings (New York, 1969), p. 57. 56 Wieseh6fcr, p. 26. �FLAUMENHAFT 115 57 Christian Meier, Athens: A Portrait of the City in Its Golden Age, trans. Robert and Rita Kimber (New York, 1998), p. 381. 58 The setting of the full-scale reproduction of the temple in a flat, treefilled park in Nashville, Tennessee makes the building itself feel very different. The ancient view \vas probably more restricted than it is now; the view from the west side was best. Ian Jenkins, The Parthenon Frieze (London, 1994), p. 18. 59 Hurwit, p. 54. 60 Susan Woodford, The Parthenon (Cambridge, 1981), p. 20. Montaigne says that "The Athenians ordained that the mules which had served in building the temple called Hccatompedon [the earlier Parthenon] should be set free, and that they should be allowed to graze anywhere without hindrance." "Of Cruelty," in The Complete Essays ofMontaigne, trans. Donald M. Frame (Stanford, 1975), p. 103. 61 Hurwit, p. 176. 62 Hurwit, p. 176. 63 Hurwit, p. 32. Vincent J. Bruno, "The Parthenon and the Theory of Classical Form," in The Parthenon (New York, 1974), p. 91. 64 65 Evelyn B. Harrison (1974), "The Sculptures of the Parthenon," in Bruno, 225-311, p. 248. 66 Harrison (1974), p. 249. 67 Harrison (1974), p. 233. 68 Hurwit, p. 179. 69 Harrison, p. 278. 70 Bruno, p. 94. 71 This may suggest that the primary aim of the building was to celebrate this victory, rather than Athena's birthday. See Hurwit, p. 30. 72 An enemy of Pheidias claimed that the sculptor had made likenesses of himself and Pericles in the Amazon metopes. Pheidias died while in prison on these charges. Plutarch affirms the resemblance to Pericles (Pint., Pericles, XXXI). 73 Mera ]. Flaumenhaft, "Priam the Patriarch, His City, and His Sons," Interpretation, 32.1 (Winter, 2004): 3·31. 74 Page duBois, Centaurs and Amazons: W!omen and the Pre~History of the Great Chain of Being. Ann Arbor, Michigan, 1991), p. 54, citing Bernard Ash mole, Architect and Sculptor itt Classical Greece (London, 1972), �116 THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW pp.165ff. Sec also Larissa Bonfante, "Nudity as a Costume in Classical Art," American Journal of Archaeology, Volume 93, No.4, (October, 1989), p. 555. 75 Mary R. Lefkowitz, "Women in the Panathcnaic and Other Festivals," in Neils, ed., \Vorsbipping Athena, 1996, 78-91, p. 81. 76 Hurwit, p. 24. 77 Pausanias, I.xxviii. 78 \'\falter F. Otto, The Homeric Gods: The Spiritual Significance of Greek Religion (Boston, 1954), p. 53. 79 The myths about their ancestry are confused: they are the products of the mating of Ixion and a marc, or of Ixion's offspring and a mare, or of Zeus in the shape of a horse and Ixion's wife. 80 duBois, pp. 27-8. 81 In the frieze behind the mctopes, only older men, officials, and some of the gods are bearded, but all have articulated necks. 82 Robin Osborne, "Framing the Centaur: "Reading 5th Century Architectural Sculpture," in Art and Text in Ancient Greek Culture, Simon Goldhill and Robin Osborne, eds. (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 71, 75-76. Osborne ends by suggesting that "treating others as beasts" may "itself constitute a lapse in propriety," p. 83. 83 duBois, p. 31. 84 Kenneth Clark, The Nude: A Study in Ideal Form (New York, 1956). 85 Bonfante, p. 554. 86 duBois, p. 30. 87 Hurwit, p. 173 and Note 62. 88 Hurwit, pp. 173-74. 89 Neils (2001), p. 196. 9 °Kagan, p. 160. 91 Louise Bruit Zaidman and Pauline Schmitt Pantel, Religion in the Ancient Greek City (Cambridge, 1992), p. 106. 92 Peter von Blanckenhagen, Unpublished lecture, St. John's College, Annapolis, date unknown. 93 The British lvluseum's Duveen Gallery reverses the direction of the viewing, enclosing the viewer rather than the pictures. 94 The CD that accompanies jenifer Neils's The Parthenon Frieze (Cambridge, 2001) attempts to approximate the experience of walking �FLAUMENHAFT 117 alongside the frieze by moving the frieze before the stationary viewer. The corners of the temple are indicated by four red lines. 95Ncils (2001), pp. 33,37-8. 96 Evelyn B. Harrison, ''The Web of History: A Conservative Reading of the Parthenon Frieze," in Neils (1996), 198-214, p. 211. 97 Woodford, p. 33. 98 Jenkins, 99 p. 26. Jenkins rejects the latter view. Kagan, p. 111. 100 Woodford, 101 p. 36. Green, p. 5. 102 \Vieseh6fer, Plate V. 103 WiesehOfcr, Plate I. 104 Robert Parker, Athenian Religiou: A History (Oxford, 1996), p. 14. 105 Neils (1992), p. 93. 10 6 John Keats, "Ode on a Grecian Urn," 1820. 10 7 This theme has been fully explored by Jennifer Neils in \'(!orshipping Athena (1996), Goddess and Polis (1992), and The Parthenon Frieze (2001). On Greek weaving, the pep/as, and cloth fabrication in general, see also Barber, in Neils (1992) and Barber (1994). lOS Harrison (1996) is critical of John Boardman's speculation, 199-200. 109 Neils (2001 ), p. 70. 110 Harrison (1996), p. 203; Neils (2001), p. 68. 111 Harrison (1996), p. 210. 11 2 Neils (2001), p. 80. 113 Harrison (1996), p. 200. ll 4 Plato, Statesman, 303b-311c. 11 5 Neils (2001), pp. 188 ff. 11 6 Neils (2001), p. 186. 117 Phillip Fehl has argued that the rocks in the frieze locate the gods, also emotionally distanced from the humans, on distant Olympus. "Gods and Men in the Parthenon Frieze" (1961), quoted in Bruno (1996), 311-21. 118 Neils (2002), pp. 61-6. 119 Hurwit, p. 18. �THE ST. JOHN'S REVIEW 118 120 Pausanias, I.xxiv. 121 His foresight later saved the sculptor from an accusation that he had stolen some of the gold. \Vcighing proved he had not. 122 Hurwit, p. 164. 1D Kagan, p. 113. 124 Hesiod, Theogony, 571-616 and Works and Days, 60-105. 125 Jenkins, p. 41. 126 Jenkins, p. 40. � 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 St. John's Review</em> Description An account of the resource <em>The St. John's Review</em><span> is published by the Office of the Dean, St. John's College.  All manuscripts are subject to blind review. 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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 Education, Humanistic Language A language of the resource English Commencement Graduate Institute https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/2cb28ab9fe12c7149504a725500187a2.pdf aacb090b6618eede96611e8793012732 PDF Text Text President  Nelson,  Members  of  the  Board,  Colleagues  of  the  Faculty  and  Staff,  Parents  and   Families,  Honored  Guests,  and  Members  of  the  Class  of  2016:   “So  after  St.  John’s,  what’s  next?”—the  opening  question  you’ve  no  doubt  been  asked  in  one   form  or  another  by  close  friends,  relatives,  and  remoter  acquaintances,  with  varying  degrees  of   curiosity,  interest,  or  maybe  even  skepticism  and  irony.  But  you  should  be  ready  for  this.  You’ve   already  felt  each  of  these  modalities  yourselves  on  occasion  during  the  long  hours  of  your   tutorials,  preceptorials,  and  seminars  here.  You  met  all  of  them  together  in  the  course  of   Socrates’  conversation  with  Meno,  which  you  read  and  puzzled  over  in  your  first  seminar   encounter  with  the  Dialogues  of  Plato.  Remember?  Come  to  think  of  it,  this  dialogue  makes  the   claim  that  learning  is  remembering,  or  so  I  recall.  But  this  question  What’s  next?—does  it  mean   that  you’ve  finished,    that  you’re  ready  now  and  should  now  move  on  to  something  different,   as  newly  minted  Bachelors  of  Arts  or  Masters  of  Arts,  either  onto  something  else,  or  back  to   whatever  you  were  doing  full  time,  or  perhaps  to  retirement?  And  is  this  something,  whatever   it  may  be,  somehow  more  real?  Well  you  might  wonder,  but  then  you  also  remember  that   wonder  is  the  beginning  of  philosophy,  and  so  you’re  off  and  at  it  once  again!   But  wait!  Is  this  but  an  endless  circle  to  which  you,  like  Gabriel  Conroy  in  Joyce’s  The  Dead,  have   been  consigned,  to  a  kind  of  “thought-­‐tormented”  life,  to  be  haunted  by  echoes  of  the  books   you’ve  read  and  the  conversations  you’ve  had  here?  Isn’t  “what’s  next”  supposed  to  be   different  and  elsewhere?  Even  if  you  find  kindred  souls  interested  enough  to  hear  about  what   you’ve  done  here,  it  probably  shouldn’t  be  more  than  an  elevator  speech,  but  don’t  count  on   even  getting  that  far.  I  recall  an  alumna  telling  me  some  years  back  that  at  her  Harvard  Law   orientation  she  met  an  equally  new  Ivy  league  alum  who  on  hearing  she  had  studied  here  cut   her  off,  saying,  “Oh  yeah,  that’s  the  big  books  school,”  and  who  then  went  on  to  tell  her  at   great  length  about  where  he  went  and  what  he  did.  I’m  inclined  to  think  that  the  kinds  of  books   and  manuals  that  fill  the  shelves  of  the  learned  professions  are  truly  the  big  books,  filled  with   lots  of  important  and  useful  knowledge,  but  not  great  ones.  I’m  also  reminded  here  of  the   aphorism  in  Epictetus’s  Handbook,  a  very  different  kind  of  manual,  where  he  claims  that   “when  a  man  says  to  you  that  you  know  nothing,  then  be  sure  that  you  have  begun  the  work  of   philosophy.”  He  adds  a  corollary  to  this  by  way  of  a  memorable  analogy:   For  even  sheep  do  not  throw  up  grass  to  show  to  the  shepherds  how  much  they  have   eaten;  but  when  they  have  internally  digested  the  pasture,  they  produce  externally  wool   and  milk.  Do  not  show  your  theorems  to  the  uninstructed,  but  show  the  acts  which   come  from  their  digestion.     What  are  these  acts?  I  would  suggest  that  they  are  a  kind  of  thinking,  of  listening,  and  of   learning  that  can  continue  to  open  up  new  possibilities  for  self-­‐knowledge  and  generous   endeavor,  for  life  in  a  word.  The  context  for  this  may  be  whatever  you  ultimately  pursue—or   what  some  are  already  pursuing-­‐  whether  it  be  in  a  courtroom,  a  classroom,  an  office,  a   laboratory,  a  sanctuary,  an  embassy,  a  farm,  a  hospital,  or  a  vineyard.  You  now  have   considerable  practice  in  certain  habits  of  mind  and  heart  and  imagination  that  have  opened  you   to  the  books  you’ve  read  here,  the  propositions  and  equations  and  lab  practica  that  you’ve   1   �demonstrated  and  worked  through,  the  music  that  you’ve  sung—these  are  all  part  of  you.  Over   time,  you’ll  probably  forget  many  of  the  details  of  much  of  this,  except  perhaps  the  music   you’ve  sung—memory  has  such  a  mysterious  power,  retaining  tunes  and  rhythms,  even  as   nearly  everything  else  seems  to  fade  slowly  away.  And  the  way  you’ve  done  all  of  this  and  the   people  you’ve  done  it  with  are  amateurs  all,  lovers  in  the  root  sense  of  that  word,  enamored  of   a  kind  of  learning  that  is  meant  to  liberate,  to  free,  to  enable  life  and  growth.  Such  growth  and   change  are  evidence  of  life.  John  Henry  Newman,  a  favorite  thinker  of  mine,  put  it  thus:  “To   grow  is  to  change,  to  be  perfect  is  to  have  changed  often.”       Think  back  to  when  you  first  came  here.  The  convocation,  then  the  gathering  afterwards,   meeting  President,  Dean,  tutors  and  community;  then  off  to  your  first  class,  assigned  book  in   hand  dutifully  read,  you  picked  your  seat  and  waited  for  the  opening  question.  Do  you  still   remember  what  it  was?  How  much  can  you  recall  of  the  discussion  that  followed?—the  first  of   so  many  that  were  to  follow  in  classes  and  in  conversations  outside  afterwards,  testing  the   books,  finding  out  what  you  really  believe  and  what  you  have  doubts  about,  listening  to  what   others  think,  pushing  your  limits  and  having  them  pushed,  finding  ground  and  losing  ground,   feeling  keenly  what  may  be  at  stake  in  the  difference  between  mere  opinion  and  right  opinion,   let  alone  knowledge—all  challenging,  frustrating,  wonderful!  No  longer  mere  spectators,  you   were  off  and  in  it!  And  it  might  have  seemed  had  you  walked  through  the  halls  with  all  these   seminars  simultaneously  convened  that  Homer  and  Lucretius  and  Cervantes  and  Tolstoy  were   mysteriously  present,  despite  the  array  of  translations  -­‐  prosaic,  poetic,  or  plodding.  Like  the   shades  Odysseus  met  in  Hades,  revived  by  the  sacrificial  blood  of  Circe’s  sheep,  these  authors   breathed  and  spoke  again,  but  all  of  them  in  the  modern  barbaric  tongue  of  English.     Since  that  first  day,  you  have  been  on  your  way,  on  a  path  undertaken  with  deliberation  and   hope,  only  gradually  realizing  what  you  had  gotten  yourself  into—the  reading  lists  of  the  books   providing  an  itinerary  of  sorts,  a  long  list  of  places  where  you  must  stop,  with  no  indication  of   what  you  might  actually  see,  whom  you  would  meet,  where  you  might  finish.  My,  but  you  were   really  in  it  now!  This  trek  has  been  both  exhausting  and  exhilarating,  with  lots  of  trudging  along   on  stony  paths  (you  can  name  inwardly  here  which  books  and  exercises  mark  them)  with   roadblocks,  detours,  and  delays;  but  also  with  glorious  mornings  and  golden  afternoons,  when   an  elegant  proof,  a  beautiful  poem,  a  moving  piece  of  music,  a  difficult  lab  reading  sparked  a   conversation  in  which  a  class  working  together  caught  a  glimpse  of  something  beautiful  and   true.  What  should  such  a  trek  be  named—Odyssey,  Exodus,  pilgrimage?  Each  of  these  has  a   goal.  But  does  any  of  them  have  an  ending?   You’ve  done  so  much  in  so  little  time—perhaps  too  much.  So  much  greatness  in  such  brief   compass  can  be  overwhelming.  There’s  a  clinical  name  for  the  kind  of  disorder  that  comes  from   extended  exposure  to  experiences  of  great  personal  significance.  It’s  called  the  Stendahl   syndrome,  named  for  the  French  novelist  who  described  a  very  disturbing  reaction  he   experienced  while  visiting  the  city  of  Florence  in  1817.  Prior  to  this,  Stendahl,  who  served  under   Napoleon  during  his  Russian  campaign,  had  witnessed  the  burning  of  Moscow  and   subsequently  arranged  for  supplies  prior  to  the  French  army’s  retreat  to  Smolensk,  yet  he   suffered  no  ill  effects.  After  the  war,  however,  coming  to  Florence  with  its  immense  treasury  of   2   �Medieval  and  Renaissance  art,  he  viewed  the  frescos  of  Giotto  in  the  Basilica  of  Santa  Croce  and   reported  being  overcome  with  an  initial  feeling  of  ecstasy,  which  was  quickly  followed  by  acute   psychosomatic  symptoms  that  included  heart  palpitations,  nervousness,  fear  of  falling,  and  a   general  sense  that  life  had  been  drained  from  him.  The  last  of  these  is  something  some  of  you   may  have  felt  recently.  The  prescribed  clinical  antidote  for  the  Stendahl  syndrome  is  removal   and  rest;  Stendahl’s  own  solution  was  to  exit  Santa  Croce  and  find  a  bench  outside  where  he   read  some  Italian  poetry.  Similarly,  David  Hume,  finding  himself  in  a  splenetic  humor  as  he   drew  near  the  end  of  Part  I  of  his  celebrated  Treatise,  called  this  sense  of  being  overwhelmed   “philosophical  melancholy  and  delirium.”  He  sought  relief  in  the  lively  impressions  that  come   with  dining,  conversing  with  friends,  and  playing  backgammon,  necessary  remedies  for  too   much  philosophy.     So  what  did  you  do  to  restore  equilibrium  while  studying  here?  Retreat  to  our  gym,  aptly  called   Temple  Iglehart?  Play  intramurals,  make  music  with  friends,  play  in  the  orchestra;  sing  in  one  of   the  many  vocal  groups,  large  or  small;  in  a  Fine  Arts  workshop  draw  or  paint  or  sculpt  or  throw   pots,  for  yourself  or  for  the  Mitchell  Gallery  Community  Art  Show;  act  or  work  with  the  King   William  Players?  Did  you  go  running  through  this  town  of  Anglo-­‐Palladian  architectural   beauty—but  focused  on  your  running,  of  course;  or  pursue  different  kinds  of  work  in  an  off-­‐ campus  job  or  profession,  or  play  chess  or  billiards  or  croquet?  Or  did  you  work  as  an  intern  for   the  state  legislature,  tutor  kids  at  the  Stanton  center,  or  write  for  The  Gadfly,  Energeia,  The   Epoch,  or  a  blog?  Whichever  of  these  you  were  in  brought  all  of  us  in  the  College  into  a  larger   life  as  it  is  lived  here  and  beyond  these  thirty  or  so  acres—and  these  other  pursuits  will   continue  to  do  so  beyond  your  time  here.  It  seems  that  the  nature  of  human  institutions  is  such   that  the  first  time  for  anything  is  typically  regarded  as  a  radical  innovation  and  is  thus   somewhat  suspect;  is  it  the  second  or  third  time  that  makes  it  a  tradition?  It  seems  that  in  a   four-­‐year  college,  the  fourth  year  should  make  it  a  venerable  tradition.  Think  of  croquet,  yes;   but  think  also  of  the  Program.   Books  with  a  balance;  both  of  these  emblems  grace  our  college  seal.  You  have  read  and   discussed  these  books  freely  and  collaboratively  in  this  distinctive  community  that  is  St.  John’s   College.  You  have  sought,  pursued,  and  practiced  the  activities  that  complement  and  balance   its  heady,  intellectual  life.  It  is  thus  so  fitting  that  College  tradition  has  had  you  toast  together   four  republics  in  the  special  social  gatherings  of  this  final  week:  the  Republic  of  The  United   States,  the  Republic  of  Letters,  the  Republic  of  St.  John’s  College,  and  the  Republic  of  Plato,  for   each  of  these  strives  to  express  the  necessary  balance  that  enables  and  fosters  human   excellence.  Plato's  Republic  and  the  Republic  of  Letters  both  predate  the  College  and  the  United   States,  and  both  recognize  the  community  of  those  who  seek  the  truth,  regardless  of  native   country,  culture,  or  religious  belief.  St.  John's,  from  its  founding  in  the  early  days  of  the   American  Republic,  has  aspired  to  be  an  instantiation  of  these  venerable  antecedent  republics.   The  international  students  in  both  programs  are  representatives  of  this  global  community  of   free  inquiry.  You  have  enriched  the  conversation  here  so  much!  As  living  communities  these   four  republics  can  thrive  only  through  the  continued  thoughtfulness  and  engagement  of  men   and  women  such  as  all  of  you  are  who  graduate  here  today,  your  energy  and  engagement,  your   conscience  and  sense  of  social  justice,  your  willingness  to  speak  out  clearly  and  to  act   3   �deliberately,  your  ability  to  listen  generously  as  well  as  critically,  and  your  imagination  and   flexibility.     And  here  you  are,  graduating  on  this  fifteenth  of  May,  2016,  having  realized  most  likely  that  the   last  seminar  reading  you’ve  just  read  and  discussed  is  not  the  end  of  the  path,  regardless  of   whether  it  was  on  Plato,  or  Nietzsche,  or  Kierkegaard,  or  Gibbon.  You’ve  reached  another   milestone,  doubtless  an  important  one,  but  the  path  goes  on  to  wherever  and  whatever  you   genuinely  find  yourself  in.  This  occasion  is  most  commendable  and  worthy  of  celebration,  but   you  haven’t  finished  yet  and  you  know  it.  Congratulations!  May  you  always  have  the  hindsight   to  know  where  you’ve  been,  the  foresight  to  know  where  you’re  going,  and  the  insight  to   realize  what  you  don’t  know  and  when  you’ve  gone  too  far!  May  you  never  forget  the  friends   you’ve  made  here  and  all  that  has  been  good  in  this  adventurous  endeavor.   Finally,  I  will  not  let  you  go  without  hearing  one  more  poem,  an  appropriate  one  for  this   occasion,  I  think:  Wendell  Berry’s  “The  Vacation.”   The  Vacation   Once  there  was  a  man  who  filmed  his  vacation.   He  went  flying  down  the  river  in  his  boat   with  his  video  camera  to  his  eye,  making   a  moving  picture  of  the  moving  river   upon  which  his  sleek  boat  moved  swiftly   toward  the  end  of  his  vacation.  He  showed   his  vacation  to  his  camera,  which  pictured  it,   preserving  it  forever:  the  river,  the  trees,   the  sky,  the  light,  the  bow  of  his  rushing  boat   behind  which  he  stood  with  his  camera   preserving  his  vacation  even  as  he  was  having  it   so  that  after  he  had  had  it  he  would  still   have  it.    It  would  be  there.  With  a  flick   of  a  switch,  there  it  would  be.  But  he    would  not  be  in  it.  He  would  never  be  in  it.   (Credit:  Copyright  ©  2012  by  Wendell  Berry,  from  New  Collected  Poems.   Reprinted  by  permission  of  Counterpoint.)   4   � 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 Commencement Programs and Addresses Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Description An account of the resource Addresses given at commencement and programs of events related to, and including, the annual commencement ceremonies at St. John's College. Includes both the undergraduate and Graduate Institute commencements. <br /><br />The College Archives holds programs and/or addresses for the following years:<br /> <ul> <li>1796</li> <li>1835-1836</li> <li>1842</li> <li>1852</li> <li>1856-1857</li> <li>1870</li> <li>1878</li> <li>1880</li> <li>1890</li> <li>1893</li> <li>1895</li> <li>1897</li> <li>1907</li> <li>1910-1918</li> <li>1920-1924</li> <li>1928-1929</li> <li>1932</li> <li>1936-1937</li> <li>1939-1945</li> <li>1947-present  </li> </ul> Click on <strong><a title="Commencement Programs and Addresses" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=18&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&amp;sort_dir=d">Items in the Commencement Programs and Addresses Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context commencementprograms 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 digital Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 4 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 Commencement Address, Spring 2016 Description An account of the resource Typescript of the commencement address given on May 16, 2016 by Tom May at the end of the Spring 2016 semester in Annapolis, MD. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource May, Thomas 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 2016-05-16 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Permission has been granted. 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 Relation A related resource <a href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/show/6580" title="Audio Recording">Audio Recording</a> Commencement Tutors https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/f56a22e75891750ff4962d02f93d3952.pdf 359825e3e6640a6c4c220da7a456be46 PDF Text Text The Pursuit of Happiness Convocation Address, August 24, 2016 Christopher B. Nelson Welcome to the Class of 2020, to the entering students in the Graduate Institute, and to their families and friends. To our returning students, faculty and staff, welcome back. I hope that all of you are as happy as I am to see a new year underway. It was on just such an occasion 50 years ago that I shook the hand of our president, signed the College Register, and sat where you freshmen are sitting today, awaiting the happy start of a four-year adventure into the books and conversation that comprise our Program of Study at St. John's. As I began to prepare today's remarks, I tried to call up what it was I seeking when I chose to apply to St. John's those many years ago. Some of it was very clear in my mind; some of it was quite foggy, not because of the passage of time, but because I lacked the vocabulary to describe it. First of all, I was very tired of hearing my teachers tell me what I needed to know, and then regurgitating it back on tests designed to measure my learning, as if I could not determine that for myself. I wanted to make my education my own, to participate in it, to talk through what we were studying, to take it seriously … for my sake. And then, there were the books, many of which I could not imagine reading on my own. I was happy to have found a college where the faculty had formed a judgment that some books were better than others. I am quite sure that it was not out of laziness that I thought it better to give myself over to these judgments when I was just 18 years old. I knew at least that much about what I did not know to trust a well-read faculty to help me get started on my education. But there was something else that caught my attention, and I don't think I could have described it well back then. It was this: the College's Program was said to be a kind of whole, like a fully-jigged puzzle, where all the parts fit together. I think I understood that no one on the faculty would claim that the Program was really complete or that the jigged pieces were perfect fits. I knew that parts of it had been rearranged and substituted for others over time, and I imagined that the Program would continue to be rearranged with experience, even that its elements might change. At the same time, I knew of no other college that claimed it was trying to present a kind of whole to its students, and that there were unifying aspects to its parts. And I thought it meant something that a faculty would care as much about the whole as of its many parts, each of which held its own attractions which presented temptations to concentrate on a part at the expense of the whole. (The rise of countless majors and electives over the last century and a half in other colleges is proof enough of such temptation.) I am sure my experience with life cannot have been so different from yours that you would not recognize a yearning for a sense of wholeness in your life, that there often seem to be competing parts of the soul fighting with one another while we are also trying to get a more complete understanding of ourselves and the kind of life we wish to live. This desire for wholeness, a one-ness within us, is something we often call "integrity", borrowed from the word "integer”, signifying unity, something that can help each of us be the same person in public as we are in private, the same person when facing a trial as when at ease with the world, the kind of person worthy of the trust of his or her family, friends and colleagues. The satisfaction of this desire to make a complete whole for ourselves is something I wanted to call happiness. I am convinced that this pursuit of happiness is what drove me to St. John's College, and I hope it has been a part of what has brought you here as well. �To satisfy this desire for a life of integrity, one needs to ask the right questions and explore the possible answers: What does it mean to be human? How does my humanity reflect itself in my own unique life? What kind of world do I live in and how is it changing? What tools do I need to navigate that world and make sense of it? What ought I to do with my life? How might I help make this a better world? Is there a divinity at work and what difference would that make? I could not imagine being happy but unable to ask these questions in the company of others who also cared about their answers. It seemed that my happiness was bound up with others in a common search for understanding such things. Frankly, it took me some time at St. John's College to see how many of the books that asked such elemental questions were expressly concerned with human happiness. And it was through reading these books and discussing them at length that I came to realize something rather obvious, that our happiness requires that our actions are not only harmonious with one another and with our will, but that they are directed toward what is truly good for us. Happiness comes from living a good life, enriched by all that a human being really needs. But recognition of the good is not always easy, and not everyone agrees that it can be pursued even if it is recognized. We read the Iliad and see our heroes vying for honor and glory and ask if this is a proper object of desire. Some of our warriors are saved by a god or goddess who loves them and would keep them from their fate. Others come to an unhappy end, and we ask why some god did not swoop down from Olympus to divert the spear flying toward its end. What control did these heroes actually have over their fate when even the son of a god could be slain in battle? Or did the happy intervention by a god on behalf of a hero suggest he was somehow worthy of the god's love and attention, a sign of his character, something within his power to shape? We read of Odysseus weeping to find his way home and into the arms of his Penelope. What is the relationship between his happiness and their reunion, between his happiness and home itself? Indeed, what does it mean to have a home? Odysseus had to leave home to find it, to suffer both abroad and on his return in order to earn the right to repossess his home. But then what do we make of his desire to leave again and in search of what end? Or is the search for happiness simply unending and the object of the search always changing? Herodotus tells us the story of Croesus, King of Lydia, who seeks the advice of Solon of Athens as to who is the happiest man in the world, believing it could be none other than himself, the man with all the wealth and power one could want. Solon answers with the stories of three men who lived well and died well too. He cannot say of Croesus that he is the happiest, or most of blessed of men, until he has brought his life to its end. Croesus does indeed suffer a terrible reversal of fortune, losing his kingdom and his son in the bargain, and when facing death atop a funeral pyre with flames licking his feet, Croesus renounces his pride, recognizing Solon's wisdom, and exclaims that no one who lives is happy, calling out Solon's name, whereupon a storm burst forth and put out the flames. Happiness has deep roots in luck, chance, fate, and the gods! Happiness is what happens to us, the story seems to say; it is not in our control. Aeschylus weaves the drama of Agamemnon, who chose to sacrifice his daughter in order that he might achieve glory and lead the campaign against Troy… only to suffer an unhappy end at the hands of his queen. And of Orestes, who killed his mother as an act of justice for her murder of his father. Sophocles tells us of Oedipus, saving a city while fulfilling a prophesy that he would kill his father, marry his mother, and sire by her four children, themselves doomed to live out unhappy lives. For years, I just could not see why each of these men and women should not be held fully responsible for everything that came down upon their heads. �Then, in time, I came to wonder if I was not being too hard on them. The choices they had to face are the choices writ large that we all face from time to time, between family and country, duty and love, selfsacrifice and self-preservation, purity and compromise, and more. Resolution of such conflicts is not easy, and each choice has consequences. No simple happy endings for these tragic protagonists! All contributed to their own undoing; all were hunted down by gods or pursued by family curses for the choices they made. Salvation, if it came, was a gift from the gods; man could not control his happiness in this world. Mankind, in the words of the chorus of Sophocles’ Philoctetes, is an "unhappy race", and the man or woman who escapes the tragic predicament of their humanity requires the intervention of the divine. All others suffer. I have to say that this view of humanity and the possibility of happiness did not sit well with me, not when I first read these painfully beautiful plays, and not after many more readings. Even with another five decades of experience behind me, reminding me of the aches and pains of growing up and then growing older, the heartaches and losses that accompany our mortal condition, and the caprice of fortune’s wheel, I take comfort in a conviction I have that I can find a measure of happiness in the choices I make in shaping my life. I act as though I have freedom of choice, and I have convinced myself that this freedom and my acting on it make a difference in my fortune, my search for happiness. Freshmen and some of you in our Graduate Institute will soon be reading Plato’s Republic, in which Socrates faces a challenge from two young brothers that he show them why their happiness depends on living a just life and fighting injustice. One brother, Glaucon, makes the case that if it were not for fear of getting caught and punished, we would all follow a life of injustice, seizing for ourselves whatever we desired, not caring where we got it or how. Imagine, he says, that a man could have the power of an ancestor of Gyges who took a gold ring from the finger of a corpse in a well that opened up during an earthquake. This man found that when he wore the ring and turned it inward toward himself he became invisible, but when he turned it outward he became visible again. He discovered he could take what he wanted without being caught, and promptly proceeded to do so, taking first his King’s wife and then his life, securing to himself wealth and power to rule over all. Such a man could become like a god among men. Then Glaucon asks us to imagine that the unjust man is so supremely unjust as to persuade others that he is in fact just. He must seem to be what he is not and have the sterling reputation of a just man throughout his whole life right up to his death. And the just man? He will be made to suffer the extreme of injustice: “he’ll be whipped; he’ll be racked; he’ll be bound; he’ll have both eyes burned out; and at the end, when he has undergone every sort of evil, he’ll be crucified…” Glaucon spares no detail in describing the suffering that will be heaped upon this genuinely just man, who will have a reputation for injustice to his dying day. It takes a pretty long dialogue for Socrates to persuade Glaucon that it is better to be just for its own sake, that it is thus better to suffer injustice than to do injustice, and that justice is a virtue of the soul necessary to the happiness of the individual. Socrates does this by showing that justice is concerned with the inward man, the one who sets in order his own inner life and is at peace with himself. We have within us by our very nature the power to set this inner life in order and to become our own master. You will read the Nichomachean Ethics, where Aristotle argues that every action or decision seems to aim at some good. The ultimate good or final end of living is our happiness. And our most distinctly human activity is the exercise of reason. Just as the good doctor procures health through the practice of medicine (the doctor’s distinct virtue), the good warrior achieves victory through the making of war (the warrior’s distinct virtue), so the good human being will attain happiness through the exercise of reason �(mankind’s distinctly human virtue.) Happiness, for Aristotle, is “an activity in accordance with virtue.” By positing that mankind is intended to fulfill a singular but common purpose, he allows for the possibility that we can exercise our intellect to secure our happiness, and that we should in fact seek the happiness which is appropriate and available to us all. Questions concerning the possibility of the search for happiness run throughout the four-year undergraduate curriculum and in all segments of the Graduate Institute, in our tutorials and laboratories, as well as in our seminars. Sophomores are opening the year with Genesis and the Hebrew Bible. What does it mean to be made in the image of God, and does this help us imagine a path to our happiness, or does it only reveal the chasm between man and his Maker as to make happiness on Earth seem impossible? Is happiness to be found in following God’s law? Is happiness available only through the Grace of God? Juniors have spent the summer happily reading Don Quixote. Have you figured out what the object of his quest is? Cervantes tells us: “It now appeared to him fitting and necessary, in order to win a greater amount of honor for himself and serve his country at the same time, to become a knight-errant and roam the world on horseback, in a suit of armor; he would go in quest of adventures, by way of putting into practice all that he had read in his books; he would right every manner of wrong, placing himself in situations of the greatest peril such as would redound to the eternal glory of his name.” Through Cervantes’ masterful portrait, the good Don seems to have achieved that eternal glory. But how did he do it, this Sorrowful Knight of ours? And why, in order to stamp out injustice, did he need to suffer the cruel abuses to his body in Part I and the torture of his mind in Part II? This is not the book that first comes to mind in a discussion of happiness, and yet we yearn to see our hero assert his will, time and time again, to achieve the greatness he would have in his re-imagination of himself. Our fine old gentleman, Alonzo Quijano the Good, seems to achieve his end in making a new self in the figure of our knighterrant. Seniors are reading Tolstoy’s War and Peace. Prince Andre seeks happiness in doing his duty, but loses sight of those who are closest to him. Meanwhile, Pierre learns in the time of his captivity and deprivation that man’s happiness lies within himself and that unhappiness arises from superfluity, from having too much of what most men think they want. Pierre would give up considerable wealth in search of his happiness. But if we can say that he secures his happiness, it would seem he actually found it in his flashing Natasha. How could I end a reflection on the pursuit of happiness without addressing our national birthright, proclaimed in the Declaration of Independence? “We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their creator with unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” I imagine that there are many who read this right to pursue happiness as a right to seek whatever each of us desires for himself or herself, a statement approving of the autonomy of each individual citizen to determine what is his or hers by right. But such a reading leads to pure anarchy, where each citizen is given license to pursue his heart’s desire, hardly a recipe for a democracy intended to achieve a people’s peaceful self-governance. What is the place of the public good? Jefferson, principle author of the Declaration, was also known to say that “Happiness is the aim of life, but virtue is the foundation of happiness.” He sounds a lot like Aristotle, and we should not lose sight of the double aspect of the pursuit of happiness in the tension between its public and private aspects. �Alexis de Tocqueville may have found the best way to explain how Americans reconcile the pursuit of their individual self-interest with a desire to serve the greater good. “In the United States,” he says, “hardly anybody talks of the beauty of virtue, but they maintain that virtue is useful and prove it every day.” “They…content themselves with inquiring whether the personal advantage of each member of the community does not consist in working for the good of all; and when they have hit upon some point on which private interest and public interest meet and amalgamate, they are eager to bring it into notice. Observations of this kind are gradually multiplied; what was only a single remark becomes a general principle, and it is held as a truth that man serves himself in serving his fellow creatures and that it is in his private interest to do good.” “Americans are fond of explaining almost all the actions of their lives by the principle of self-interest rightly understood.” I will leave it to you to sort out this argument, and to determine whether it is a sustainable principle. But I rather like the idea, and think it exerts a restraint on the blind degeneration of the pursuit of one’s individual happiness into nothing but self-regard. Every democracy requires free citizens, and free citizens must have free minds. A liberal education, literally an education for freedom, is designed to free the mind to perform its public function. But above all, that free mind is necessary for our personal happiness, for living a good life, the life suited to our nature. On behalf of my colleagues at St. John’s College, I invite you to join us in uncovering this gloriously human project of freeing ourselves to find our way to a better life. Discover for yourselves whether you can and will pursue your happiness. While we hope for you happiness, even joy, in your studies with us, we also hope you are able to have a little fun while you’re at it. And there are loads of activities beyond these intellectual pursuits to satisfy your many other desires, from participating in the athletic program to acting in a dramatic production, from writing for the Gadfly to taking a painting class, from gazing at the stars to canoeing on the Severn, from singing in one of the choral groups to playing in the orchestra. And here I am at the end of a reflection on happiness with hardly a word about the joy and beauty we usually associate with happiness. So,let me call upon our upperclassmen to remedy this deficiency, to rise and welcome the newest members of our community with beautiful song! Mr. Stoltzfus, will you assist? xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Welcome to St. John’s College! Thank You. Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx After the recessional, please join us outside the Mitchell Gallery for a reception and further conversation. I declare the College in Session this 24th day of August, 2016. CONVOCATUM EST! � 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 Convocation Addresses Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Description An account of the resource Addresses given at convocation ceremonies held at the beginning of the semester at St. John's College. Includes both the undergraduate and Graduate Institute commencements. <br /><br />Click on <a href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=43" title="Items in the Convocation Addresses Collection">Items in the Convocation Addresses Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context convocation 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 digital Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 5 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 Convocation Address, Fall 2016 Description An account of the resource Typescript of the convocation address given by Chris Nelson for the Fall 2016 semester in Annapolis, MD. Entitled "The Pursuit of Happiness." 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 2016-08-24 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College has been given permission to make this item available online. Type The nature or genre of the resource 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 Fall 2016 Convocation Address-The Pursuit of Happiness Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Nelson, Christopher B. Convocation Presidents Tutors https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/b202ae24d2f89290439e8af361c67e84.pdf dad126a1fea8fae288571b5437b3eb91 PDF Text Text • St.John's College SJC 2015 COMMENCEMENT EXERCISES Saturday I May Tenth Two Thousand and Fifteen ANNAPOLIS MARYLAND J �PROGRAM For the Two Hundred Twenty-Third Commencement in the Thr ee Hundred Nineteenth Year of the College Prelude Carrollton Brass Quintet Academic Procession The National Anthem Carrollton Brass Quintet Francis Scott Key, Alumnus, Class of 1796 Welcome Christopher B. Nelson, SF70 President of the College Announcement of Prizes and Awards President Nelson Pamela Kraus Dean of the College Address to the Graduating Class Jonathan Tuck (H14) Tutor Emeritus Conferring of Undergraduate Degrees President Nelson Dean Kraus Conferring of Graduate Degrees President Nelson Jeff J.S. Black Associate Dean for the Graduate Institute Academic Recession Carrollton Brass Quintet �Nicolas Goehring Day BACHELOR OF ARTS Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Creation Out of Time: Zarathustra's Teaching of Self-Creation Matthew Patrick Denci Sebastian Manuel Abella Coral Gab les, Florida East Greenwich, Rhode Island The Mirror of Chivalry Recreating Reality: The Church of Combray in Swann's Way Sophia Jeanette Dillard Nadia Saud Hamed AI Taei Azaiba, Oman Looking at the Poet. Learning How to See Joshua Thomas Avni Woodstock, Virginia Nothing: Seeking Se lf-Annihilation in lngmar Bergmans Persona Smyrna, Georgia Eating, Death, and Love: Separation and Unification in Genes is and Gospel of John Hannah Rose Edwards Chambersburg, Penn sylvania And Yet It Must Be Wonderful to Get the Princess: An E ration of Poetry in xplo Fear and Trembling Laura Louise Bartram Clinton, New Jersey Arya Eshraghi * A Knowing Look: Into Don Quixote Dioscoro Andres Blanco Leesburg, Virgin ia Abraham's Argument: Faith as Human Fulfillment in S0ren Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling Mclean, Virginia Stella Grey Fillmore-Patrick Bridgton, Maine Nietzsche's Birth of Tragedy An E xperiential Interpretation Sara Kathleen Finucane Carter Knox Brown Litchfie ld, Connecticut Rochester, New York Idealized Anastomosis in Goethe's Metamorphosis of Plants The Labyrinthine Self: The E xperience of Self in Andrei Tarkovsky's Stalker Steven Thomas Alexander Flake Megan Elizabeth Case New York, New Yo rk Baudelaire's Confrontation with Death and Change: An E inatio·n of "Une xam Charogne" and "Le Cygne" from Les Fleurs du Mal New Bern, North Carolina The Battlefield of Love: The Conflicts Between Our Expectation and Experiences in Shakespeare's The Sonnets Ryan Michael Fleming Daniel Galen Clay Lansdowne, Pennsylvania Suffering in Art: The Ali enation of Passion in "Musee des Beaux Arts" Samuel Oberon Collins Fallsington, Pennsylvania The Observer's Song: Thought and Language in "Le Cimetiere Marin" Domenic Joseph D'Andrea New Castle, Delaware F Child to Citizen: Ethical Education and Responsibility in Aristotles rom Nicomachean Ethics Michael Joseph Freitas Santa Fe, New Mexico Defeating the Hydra's Head: How Expe rience Succeeds Where Reason Has Failed: An E xploration of Monta igne's "Of Experience" North Haven, Connecticut Zachariah Arlo Frey What is You? An Endeavor to Live with I and Thou by Martin Suber Cora Christine Davis Towson, Maryland Better Well Hanged Than Ill Wed: The Necessary Downfall of Philosophy, and the Grace it Receives Through Faith in Kierkegaard's Philosophical Fragments Thomas Howard Davis Natasha's Dance: An E xploration of Cultural and National Identity in To lstoy's War and Peace St Louis, Missouri Pottstown, Pennsylvania The Good of the Many: Sympathy and Justice in David Hume's A Treatise of Human Nature Madison Lee Galbraith Quesne l, British Columbia , Canada Son of Sin, Son of Sanctity: An E loration of the Character of Jesus Christ in xp The Gospel of Matthew �Robert Edmund George Oregon House. C aliforni a Cheektowa ga. New York Silver Spring, Maryland Laconia. New Hampshire Renwick Ellis Hudson Fayetteville, Arkan sas E xperiencing the Dimensions of Beings Overcom ing the Atomized Se lf in G.W. F. Hege l's Phenomenology of Spirit Margaret Kelsey Guilford Miam i. Florida Shayna Morell Jenkins Litchfield, Connecticut Th e Man of Many F aces: Th e Search for Self Knowledge in Cervantes' Don Q uixote Mad Marx and the Machine Revolutio n: Violent Progress and Whethe r We Can Avoid It Helen Elene Gvilia Leslie Mae Howard So as a P nted Tyrant Ham let Stood ai aLJTOVOIJO~: On Autonomy, Obedience. and Loya lty in Sophocles' Antigone Louise Grace Gordon North Easton. Massachusetts Clockwork Phi losopher: On Kant's Use of Practica l Reason Being More Than a Moment: An Essay on Martin Heidegger's Being and Time Melissa Suzan Gerace Wyatt Hawkeye Hope Zugd idi, Republic of Georgia Eunji Kim Gwa ngju, South Korea Th e P aradox and Anxiety in F and T ear rembling Mach iavellian Mora lity: How Machiavell i's True Intentions Reflect Human Nature in The Prince by Niccolo Mach iavell i Molly Grace Kirkpatrick Andrew Mihajlo Nathan Hacko Holl ister, Cal ifornia Paradise on Earth: An E ination of the Problems of Reason an d E xam xperience in a Theolog ical System Orono. Maine Ro und Perdition's Fl ames: An Examination of Ahab and Obsession in Moby Dick Madeline Elizabeth Kline Re isterstown, Maryland The Blessed and the Violent: An E loration of F xp erocity in P aradise Joseph Michael Hamd Wa shington. Di stri ct of Col umbia Bo ldly Staring into the Abyss: Ka ramazov Sensual ity, Suffering, and Life as Paradise Daniel Scott Koolbeck * Josephine Pierce LaCosta Day Harper Provo, Utah How to Love Impossible Things: George Eliot on Soc ial Change Sarah Elizabeth Harper El kridge, Maryland Wanderlust: An Insti nct towards Wonde r Evan Michael Harpin Woodstock. Maryland Westborough, Massachusetts How to Fall from Grace, The E Story: An E ination of E Innocence and Sin ve xam ve's in Mi lto n's P aradise Lost Carlos Moreno Henninger Los Gatos. Ca liforn ia Helen of Sparta : Fi nd ing Oneself in Darkness of Shame Henry Francis Hirsch George Alva Honorof Duty and Revelation: A Study of Andrei 's Death in Leo To lstoi's War and Peace Katherine Biddle Lafferty Gui lford. Connecticut Madison, Connecticut Holli daysburg, Pennsylvan ia Does He Not Go Along Like a Dancer? T Spoke Zarathustra by Nietzsche hus Dong Sun Lim Seou l. South Korea Wo ndering on Philoso phy: From the Socratic Form to the Phi losoph ic Li fe Qiu Lin Sa nya, Hainan. China Do You Rea lly Love Me? An Inqui ry into F aith in Philosophica l F ragments David Craig Lincer The Music of Phi losophy: An Inquiry with Plato 's Phaedo Gladstone, New Jersey F and Freedom: In Honor of E aith mma Bovary: The Chi ld, the Artist, the Hero Short Hills, New Jersey Hope C stri cts the Heart: Imagi nation, Sympathy, and Yo uth in Goethe's Werther on �Alice Rose Loofbourrow San Jose. C aliforn ia Ronald Edmund Pagano Twice Upon a Time: Stories We Retel l The God Who Dies to Conquer Death: E loring the Mean ing Behi nd the Music xp and Text of the Passion Chorale in Bach's St. Matthew Passion Rohini Pandit Jordan Sinclair Lovinger Sa nta F New Mexico e, Wash ington, District of Columbia On the Namesake of Gorgias: a Brief Ana lysis of Plato's Gorgias and the Socratic Refutation of C icles all Wes ley Chape l. Florida Who 's There? Kallista Ian the Pappas Seattle, Wash ington Let Me Never Be Cut Off F Him: The Doubter's Journey to Certitude in God rom Nicholas Henry Loya Whitti er, C alifo rni a Nicole Kristina Pease Belief without Sight: How Paul E xtends the Preaching of Christ Durango, Colorado A Not So Wicked Disgu ise: Love and Deception in Twelfth Night Kristen Marie Luchsinger Palmer. Alaska Amelia Kathleen Isaacs Perkins The Role of Bea uty in Science as Seen in the Einste in, Podolsky, and R osen P aper and Res ponses to it Within the Context of Quantum Theory Francis George Macintosh Nottingham, P ennsylvan ia The Lord ly View of the True: Metaphysics as Po litical Philosophy in Plato's Parmenides Largo, Florida The Bawdy P tic: Examinations on Gender in Aristophanes' Lysistrata oli Rutl and, Vermont Why Unhappiness Is Unavoidable and How to Dea l With It Samuel Linton Placanica Si lver Spring, Maryland Mary Alice Reeher Saint Paul, Minnesota Flesh and Blood : Webster and the Female Prince Willi amston. North Carolina Fro m F alse Sight to Bl ind Be lief: On the Tra nsformation of Haze l Motes Graeme Keenan Rober ts New York. New York Is Wittge nste in a Behavio ri st? Gabriela Alejandra Montequin Daytona Beach, Florida The Lowly Imitator: An Examination of Imitation and its Path to Truth in Plato's Republic Steven Charles Ross Davidsonville, Maryland C'est L'E nnui: An E xploration of E nnui in the Works of Charles Baudelaire Leila Unvala Saad Colorado Springs, Colorado Persuasion: Hinds ight is 20/20: Ana lyzi ng the Hows and Whys of Auste n's Persuasion Barto, Pennsylvania The War Withi n Ca llicles: An E xamination of Callicles' Speech and Arguments Chevy Cha se, Maryl and The Language of Leadership: Hal's Study of Rhetoric Through Relationsh ips in Henry IVP I art Steuben, Maine Both Fl esh and Not: Embodiment in Hegel's Phenomenology of Spirit Zeke Austin Richard Schumacher John Sherman Neal William Carl Pack C orbett, Oregon O Com ing to One 's Own E n nd Kathryn Means Stephanie Marie Morgan Willa Joy Perry The Receding Figure: Sublime Moments in Three Landscapes by Caspar David F edrich ri MaryEllen Markuske Sarah Michelle Meggison Doylestown, Pennsylvania Th e Same and Not the Same: The Indeterminate Soph ist Valenc ia, Cal iforn ia Th e Kingdoms of God and Reason Sidharth Subodh Shah Mumbai, India The C riteri a of Satisfaction for Theories in Quantum Physics Gabriel Lucius Shim* Anaheim, Ca lifornia �Jennifer Marie Shumpert Reston, Virginia Ekemezie N nann a Kanu U che Ships That Pass in the Night or, The Duplicity of Narratives in Woolf's Mrs. Galloway Abuja, Nigeria Giving Hand to One People's Grief: Exploring Themes of Identity, History, and Poetry in Derek Walcott's "The Schooner Flight" Michael Thomas Sibley Granite Bay, Californ ia Maximiliano Vazquez El Pa so, Texas What is a Beautiful Conversation? An Interpretation of Socrates' Palinode The Man of Laws Amritpal Singh Absecon, New Jersey Kip A. Waite Chicago, Illinois Shakespeare's Coriolanus: An Inquiry into the Causative Relation ship Between Beauty and Ruination The Questioning of Man: An Inquiry into Inquiry Emily Maxwell Slagel Richmond Hi ll, Georgia Terence Bernard Washington A Journey Through Restlessness: Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert Columbia, South Carolina On Sight: Tolstoy's Descriptions of Vision as a Le sson on Li ving Caroline Campbell Snizek Westfield, New Jersey Emily Westacott My Mind on My Murder and Murder on My Mind: Death and Dying in Macbeth Wilton, Conn~cticut Peter Walter Squitieri Kant and his Political Children: Rawls. Libertarians, and the Doctrine of Right Carolyn Anushuya Stephen Juliet Whitcomb-Dixon Anna Rose Gabrielle Szumiesz John Peter Whitman Alexandra Marie Wick Yosef Trachtenberg Victoria Rose Wick Denver, Colorado The Inner World of War and Peace New Bern, North Carolina Michael Scott Wolfe Annapolis, Maryland Jerusalem, Israel Fallston, Maryland Newa rk, Delaware The Gods Love to Kill the Youth: The Unavoidability of Suicide in Goethe's The Sorrows of Young Werther Elizabeth Hall Wootten Minnetonka, Minnesota To Li ve for the Soul: A Study of the Philosophy and Practical Life of Konstantin Levi n in Tolstoy's Anna Karenina On Laziness Dylan Matthew Tyler Denver, Colorado Kneeling and Decline in King Lear Concord, New Hampshire Chasing Fate or Sailing the Seas with Satan Avery Michel Tose Whatever is Good .. .? The Quandary and the Controversy Escanaba, Michigan Homeward Bound ... I wish I was Odysse us and His Journey Home Warsaw, Poland Plonger au Fond: Finding Freedom in the New Beauty of the Modern World Branham O'Neil Talton Cincinnati, Ohio The Nature of Ambition and the Politics of Change: An Essay on Julius Caesar and Shakespeare's Pol iticaI Narrative Parkland, Florida The Mathematics that Underlies Natural Phenomena: On the Use of Analogy in Maxwell's Expos ition of the Electromagnetic Field Melanie Ann Ward Swiecicki Quo Vadis? Christianity Alfred, New York Searchers, Tempters, Experimenters: A Study of Transformation in Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra Charles Ulrich Zug Consciously Continuing: Idealism and Sensualism in The Sun Also Rises The Socratic Critique of Law in Plato's Crito 'f: Upon completion of requirements. Wal la Walla, Washington �MASTER OF ARTS IN LIBERAL ARTS James Vincent Connors Mark David Crouser Elisabeth Faye Deaton Michael Scott Goldstein Columbia, Maryland Lancaster, Pennsylvania Hampton, Virginia PRIZES AND AWARDS ·To the member of the Senior Class who has written the best senior essay. Offered in memory of Susan Irene Roberts, of the Class of 1966 Creation Out of Time: Zarathustra 's Teaching of Self-Creation Nicolas Goehring Day Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania Honorable Mention (shared): Andrew Scott Gudgel Elizabeth Marie Janthey Benjamin Joseph Kapp Alexander Ryan Knepper Donald Robert Lafleur Eleanore Forbes Lambert Thomas Joseph Magnette, Jr. Qingwei Meng Odenton, Maryland On Laziness Olney, Maryland Yosef Trachtenberg West Chester, Pennsylvania and Williamsport, Maryland The Mathenwtics that Underlies Natural Phenomena: On the Use of Analogy in Maxwell's Exposition of the Electromagnetic Field Nashville, Tennessee Carolyn Anushuya Stephen Washington, DC Cranston, Rhode Island Lishi, Shanxi , China To the member of the Junior Class who has written the best annual essay. Offered by Mrs. Leslie Clark Stevens in memory of her daughter-in-law, Kathryn Mylroie Stevens Reconciliation: In Search of Freedom, in George Eliot's Middlemarch Michael E. Mlodzienski John Richard Moore Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania Erik Gustaf Neave Clarksville, Maryland Honorable Mention Richard Casey Morris Nathan Manning Mulch Christopher Stephen Tracy Fort Wor1h, Texas Moscow, Idaho Evil Lies in the Eye of the Beholder: Misperceptions of the Postlapsarian Reader in Milton's Paradise Lost Holly Ann Huey Sacramento, California Alexander Troy Greenwich, Connecticut Benjamin James VanderWerp Grand Rapids, Michigan To the member of the Sophomore Class who has written the best annual essay. Offered under the will of the late Judge Walter I. Dawkins, of the Class of 1880 He Fed to Her that Burning Heart: A Critical Examination of Dante's Ardent Love Ti Hsu Honorable Mention What a Girl Wants: Desire and Imagination in the Canterbury Tales Collin James Ziegler �To the member of the Freshman Class who has written the best annual essay Achilleus's S hield: A Path Not Taken To the student who submits a fine original English poem. Offered by Dr. George Austin in memory of his brother, Henry "Sweet Flash of Dream s" Rebecca Ann O'Brien Erik Gustaf Neave Honorable Mention I S till Don 't Kno w What It Means to Know Shane Michael Hettler To the student who submits a fine original musical composition . Offered in memory of Mary Joy Belknap, President of the Caritas Society 1987-1991 "Inexpression " Leslie Mae Howard To th e Graduate Institute student who has written a distinguished preceptorial essay in the year 2014. Offered by the Alumni Association Honorable Mention Man as Freedom in War and Peace "Mountain Child" James Vincent Connors Bonnie Nichols Scott To a member of the Senior Class, for excellence in speaking . To the student who submits a fine essay on a piece of music. Offered in memory of Senator Millard E. Tyd ings of Maryland Offered in memory of Mary Joy Belknap, President of the Caritas Society 1987-1991 Shared Prize: Robert Edmund George Ale xandra Marie Wick Victoria Rose Wi ck E ntombing Christ - Wi th Passion William Murray Gardner Brown To the student who submits the most elegant solution of a synthetic problem. Offered by the Class of 1986 in honor of Bryce Jacobsen, of the Class of 1942, Tutor and Director of Athletics Emeritus To the student who submits th e best English version of a Greek text. Offered in memory of John S. Kieffer, Pres ident Emeritus Sihui Ma Text: Plutarch, Lives, "Life of Pericles" Not awarded To the stud ent who submits the most elegant solution of an analytical problem. Offered in memory of James R. McClintock, of the Class of 1965 Honorable Mention Siqi Zh ao Amritpal Singh To the student who carries out a fine laboratory project. To the student who subm its the best English version of a French poem. Offered by the Board of V1sitors and Governors Forces and energy loss in Rutherford's a-particle scattering exp eriments Yosef Trachtenb erg Text: Serge Gainsbourg, "L 'Anamour" Marina Aud-Je an Weber Honorable Mention Magnetic Gun Sidharth Su bodh Sh ah �To the senior man and woman who, through participation, leadership, and sportsmanship, have contributed most to the SJC athletic program, a special blazer. ENDOWED SCHOLARSHIPS Samuel Oberon Collins Leslie MiIton Abrams, 1954 Eunji Kim Clarence L. Dickinson. 1911 To the member of the Senior Class who has contributed outstanding service to the Greater Annapolis Community. Offered by the Caritas Society of St. John's College Dr. Granville 0. Adams, 1929 Richard A. Duhan, 1963 Mildred Alexander Martin Dyer Book Fund Philip L. Alger. 1912 Ahmet Ertegun Education Fund Alter Graduate Institute Scholarship Faculty Scholarship To the member of the Senior Class who has demonstrated the greatest care for and service to youth who reside in the City of Annapolis. Offered by the friends and family of Marvin B. Cooper, of the Class of 1969 Ronald and Donna Fielding Annapolis Graduate Institute James H. Frame, 1950 Aretei Fund Charles Ulrich Zug Alumni Scholarship Friends of St. John's Bradley C. Arms Nancy Gannon Gearing George M. Austin. 1908 Harry Golding, Graduate Institute WalterS . Baird, 1930 George A. and Eveline T. Greenleaf Untitled, colored pencil and inh drawing Katherine Biddle Lafferty To the Senior who has demonstrated excellence in the arts, literature, or sciences, the WalterS. Baird Prize. Untitled, blach and white photographs Shayna Morell Jenkins John T. and Gertrude L. Harrison, 1907 John T. Harrison, Jr. Ford K. Brown, H70 Charles W Hass, 1927 Caritas Society of St. John's College Casasco Family Fund Henry B. Higman, A48 Richard H. Hodgson, 1906 Michael Chiantella The Hodson Trust Chicago Regional To the member of the Senior Class who submits the best work of visual art to the Community Art Exhibition, the Charles Vernon Moran Prize Edna G. and Roscoe E. Grove, 1910 Fred and Marian Billups Jeff Bishop Memorial Emily Westacott Betty Beck Bennett, 1960 Alfred and Ruth Houston, 1906 Mrs. Clyde Alvin Clapp Houston Regional James T. Clark, 1928 John Isaacs Class of 1897 J. Seward Johnson, Jr. Class of 1898 Jesse H. and Mary Gibbs Jones Class of 2014 Richard F. Cleveland, H54 Col. Robert E. and Margaret Larsh Jones, 1909 Bernard Clorety, 1950 Robert E. Kanode, 1939 Dr. Charles C. Cook Dr. Simon and Fanny Kaplan. H84 Marvin Brent Cooper, 1969 Francis A. Katz, 1929 The Joseph and Robert Cornell Memorial Foundation William R. Kenan, Jr. Trust Eugene N. (1929) and Robe11 G. (1963) Cozzolino John Spangler Kieffer, H70, and Roxana White Kieffer, H84 Marie Klebe Memorial Wiley and Helen Crawford Jacob Klein. H76 Cpl. George E. Cunniff Ill Korshin Family Fund Helen Lee DeAioia Tom and Cathryn Krause Donna Marie Delattre Arthur E. and Hilda Combs Landers, 1930 Joseph LaPides �Michael Littleton Rosse Family John D. Mack St. John's College Alumni Assoc iati on Massachusetts Regional J. J. Salovaara James Matthews, H99 Lawrence Saporta, PhD Thoma s A. and Julia McDonald Flora Duvall Sayles Middendorf Foundation Scholarship Fund 2013 Martin Conrad Miller (1 981) Book Fund Hazel Norris and J. Graham Shann ahan, 1908 P Miller aul Doug E. Sherr (1 972) Memori al Philip A. Myers II, 1938 Rudy Simeone NationsBank Foundation (Bank of America) Thomas J., H94, and Marion K. Slakey Chri stopher B. Nelson Scholarship Endowment Andrew Smith Memorial Rev. Theo O'Brien ANNUAL SCHOLARSHIPS Advance (The Document Specialists) Robley T. Levy Alt Breeding Schwarz Architects, LLC Don lin &Harriett Long Annapol is Painting Services Matz-Warner Fam ily Foundation Margaret S. Atterbury Co li n B. Murray BMW of Annapolis Christopher B. Ne lson and Joyce A. Olin Ca ritas Society of St. John's College Cheryl P nter ai Chesapeake Medical Imaging PNC Financia l Services Group J. Winfree Smith, H80 Ensign C. Markland Ke lly, Jr. Memorial Foundation Reliable C hurchi ll O'Grady Memorial Harry S. and Vivian B. Spectre Book Fund Friends of St. John's Co ll ege Okl ahoma Regional James S. Spirer, 1970 Joh n A. Simmons Hansen Arch itects LLC Molly Owens R aymond and Richard Starke F. Michae l Smith ynne Ha rding L Norman G. Owens C.V. Starr Foundation Marylou H. Symonds Linda Hortick Jules 0. Pagano Memorial Scholarship Fund Jean Roberts Staylor Lau rie Wooden Dr. Thomas Parran and Thomas Parra11, Jr. P assin F amily Fund Andrew and Lenore Steiner Book Fund ICFM (Independent College F of und Maryland) The Duane and Cl ementine Peterson Charitable Fund LD and P aula Pickens Pittsburgh Regional Reader's Digest Foundation J. Douglas Ramsey, 1937 Greg Riley (class of 1993) Lenore B. Rinder Cleo Ritz Susan I. Roberts, 1966 Clifton C Roehle Joan and Bela Ronay Murray Joel and Julius Rosenberg, 1938 G. D. Searle/ John E Robson . Robson Famil y E dward and Cynth ia Shumaker David H. Stephenson Clarence W. Stryker Bert Thoms Karl and E velyn Van Tassel Frederick J. Von Schwerdtner Mr. and Mrs. William J. Vanous P attie Bourne Turner Walker, 1966 Irving and Loretta Wasserm an Charles H. Watts Richard D. Weigle, H49 John L. Willi ams, 1950 Thomas J. and Marvil F. William s Frank K. Wilson, 1935 Winiarski Endowment Fund Delores and Stephen Wolf Kathy and Jerry Wood Foundation Gifts received after April 15, 201 5 are gratefully acknowledged and will be listed in t h e 20 16 Commencemen t Program. � 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 Commencement Programs and Addresses Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Description An account of the resource Addresses given at commencement and programs of events related to, and including, the annual commencement ceremonies at St. John's College. Includes both the undergraduate and Graduate Institute commencements. <br /><br />The College Archives holds programs and/or addresses for the following years:<br /> <ul> <li>1796</li> <li>1835-1836</li> <li>1842</li> <li>1852</li> <li>1856-1857</li> <li>1870</li> <li>1878</li> <li>1880</li> <li>1890</li> <li>1893</li> <li>1895</li> <li>1897</li> <li>1907</li> <li>1910-1918</li> <li>1920-1924</li> <li>1928-1929</li> <li>1932</li> <li>1936-1937</li> <li>1939-1945</li> <li>1947-present  </li> </ul> Click on <strong><a title="Commencement Programs and Addresses" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=18&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&amp;sort_dir=d">Items in the Commencement Programs and Addresses Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context commencementprograms 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. 10 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 Commencement Program, 2015 Description An account of the resource Program for the two hundred twenty-third commencement in the three hundred nineteenth year of the college. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource St. John's College Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2015-05-10 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Type The nature or genre of the resource text Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context CommencementExercises2015 Subject The topic of the resource Commencement (St. John's College, Annapolis, MD) Commencement https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/555130472d847f58a8481ba5a9f4b9cc.pdf 232031b1310be01c8e349c1eb5f4133d PDF Text Text • SJC St.John's College 2016 COMMENCEMENT EXERCISES Sunday I May 15 Two Thousand and Sixteen Annapolis I Maryland �PROGRAM For the Two Hundred Twenty-Fourth Commencement in the Three Hundred Twentieth Year of the College Carrollton Brass Quintet Prelude Academic Procession Carrollton Brass Quintet The National Anthem Francis Scott Key, Alumnus, Class of 1796 Christopher B. Nelson, SF70 Welcome President of the College Announcement of Prizes and Awards President Nelson Pamela Kraus Dean of the College Thomas May Address to the Graduating Class Tutor Conferring of Undergraduate Degrees President Nelson Dean Kraus Conferring of Graduate Degrees President Nelson Emily H. Brooker Langston Associate Dean for the Graduate Program Academic Recession Carrollton Brass Quintet �Danielle Christienne Cole BACHELOR OF ARTS Denver, Colorado Wisdom from the Whirlwind: Th e Nature of Human Suffering in the Book of Job Montgomery Austin Alcott Boston, Massachusetts The Isolation of the Will in Kant's Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals Stephen Bowen Aller Gaithersburg, Maryland Paul on Love Jenna Neal Alton Timothy Hermann Collins Oak Hill, Virginia Natural Characters and Forested Flattery: On the Fluidity of Identity (With a F ocus on Love) in As You Like It David Ryan Conway North Barrington, Illinois Are You, Too, a Casaubon? An E loration of Faith and Diversion in xp George Eliot's Middlemarch Daniela Liliana Alvarez Rodriguez Corn ing, New York These Days, He Devotes Most of His Time to Horses: Avoiding Frustration in Socrates' Philosophy Amy L. Cowling San Juan, Puerto Rico How to Find Resolution in Death : An E xploration of the Relationship Between Death and Desire in Wagner's Tristan und Isolde Orland Park, Illinois Solitude in Time: An Essay on One Hundred Years of Solitude Maxwell Bigelow Dakin Lenox, Massachusetts Dark Night of the Soul: Hegel and the Unhappy Consciousness Robyn Dianne Bell Berlin, Maryland Moral Redemption from the Downfall of Desire: The Quest for Self-Satisfaction in Immanuel Kant's Critique of Practical Reason Nino Benashvili Marian Amelia Daniel Atlanta, Georgia The Development of Reason in Human Consciousness: A Limited Legislative Activity- An Investigation of Hegel's Phenomenology of Spirit Tbilisi, Georgia Before Whom Shall I Bow Down? The Question of TOCKa in The Brothers Karamazov John Talbot Brookes Madeline Pierce Desjardins Ku la, Hawai i All Is We ll : Finding the Moral Life Without God- The Myth of Sisyphus, The Rebel, and The Plague San Mateo, California Jonathan Luke Dougherty Knowing Other: On Hegel's Force and the Understanding Litchfield, Connecticut The Call of the Wild- Walden, Walking, Thoreau William Murray Gardner Brown Buffalo, New York Kerrigan Dougherty The True-as-Subject in Hegel's Logical Doctrine Courtney Chaffee Caldwell Medford, Massachusetts Anatomy of Spleen: An Examination of Baudelaire's Spleen Cycle Robert Gabriel Cawood The Poet and His Ideal: Charles Baudelaire's Les Fleurs du Mal Kommt, ihr Tochter, helft mir klagen : Bach's St. Matthew Passion as an Invitation to Complex, Varied Lamentation Mary Kathryn Eckles Adams, Tennessee Maplewood, New Jersey Tempe, Arizona A Self Truth, Rarely Acknowledged: A Study of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice and the Journey to Self-Knowledge in Society · ·I �Mariel Michael Far hi Ithaca. New York Jonah William Karew Red Bank, New Jersey The Brutal Reality of War: On Blood Meridian and the Iliad To Become Ourselves. To Know Ourselves: On Self-Actualization in Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment Matthew Marquis Katcher William Grant James Feeney Havre de Grace, Maryland Reaching Balance Through Sin- How Necessary Evil Brings Mankind to Completion in Paradise Lost Falls Church, Virginia Hazards and Nothing Else: An Essay on Martin Heidegger's Introduction to Metaphysics Sueanna Ruth Keirn Nikos Paul Frank Fond du Lac, Wisconsin Cary, North Carolina How to Give an Onion One Is Two- Making Sense of Plato's Parmenides Patrick Thomas Francis Kelly Evan Gerald Verne Frolov Orange County, California Fresno, California Man and the Universe -An Essay on Our Place Among Infinite Worlds To Change the Lights: Modern Sainthood in George Eliot's Middlemarch Joseph Ritter Kensok E1nily Freda Grazier Grove City, Ohio Flame and Stone: Sight and Interaction in Ovid's Metamorphoses Andrea M. Hill N011h Wales, Pennsylvania Jacob Avery Kilgore Clinton, Washington Wandering the Hidden Gardens of Memory: The Artistic Creation of Self in Marcel Prou st's DuCote de Chez Swann Robert Killefer Virginia Beach, Virginia The Birth of Discord: The Cyclical Co-Generation of Spleen and Ideal in Charles Baudelaire's Encounter with Beauty Christopher Randolph Hutter Madeline Laura Kiss Obligation and Purpose in Aeneas' Journey Sag Harbor, New York Abraham Lincoln : Necessity and the American Political Religion Middleburg, Florida On Stoicism, up to a Certain Point Adam Reid Kuester Baldwin, Maryland What Death Can Teach Us about Meaning and Morality Catonsville, Maryland The Great Unfinished Symphony: Identity, Memory, and Change in Lincoln 's America N oe Joaquin Jimenez Fairfax. Virginia A Cock and a Bull- The Art of the Anti-Novel Andrew Ryan Kriehn Lauren Michelle Huffman Bowdon. Georgia Shenzhen, People's Republic of China The Rabbit and the Rock: An Exploration of the Concept of Space in Quantum Mechanics Holly Ann H uey Overcoming the Barriers that Separate Us: Perfectibility and Happiness in Rousseau's Political Writings The Language of the Sons of Men: An Essay on Moses Maimonides' Guide of the Perplexed Tragedy in Transformation: The Faithful Fall of Don Quixote Xiaoqian Hu Napa, California Brooklyn, New York Julia Agnieszka Kulon Seeing and Feeling in Painting Chicago, Illinois �Stanley Nelson Lavery Belcamp, Maryland Baltimore, Maryland Dealing with the Past Adarn and Eve: Divergent Perspectives in Paradise Lost Chang J ae Lee Seou l, South Korea Wyatt Murphy Moreton Shelburne, Vermont The Science of Karl Marx: A Study of Value in Capital In Search of a Good Will Brian Shang Jie Liu Quarry Bay, Hong Kong Erik Gustaf N eave Sheboygan, Wisconsin Eternal Happiness: Philosophy & Faith in Philosophical Fragments Life Itse lf: A Close Reading of Nietzsche's The Birth of Tragedy Wanli Ma Clifton Stevenson Mobbs Qinhuangdao, People's Republic of China Frederick Geoffrey N esfield Engelhard, North Carolina The Necessity of the Karamazovian Character: An Essay on Ethical Aesthetics An E ssay on Baudelaire's "Une Charogne" Roger Kirk McCluskey Lubbock, Texas The Form of the Good- An Inquiry into the Fund amentals of Value within the Economics of Smith and Marx Da'Nasjah Tandi Nyirenda Cu lver City, California Rhetorica l Strategies in The Federalist Papers Marguerite Ellen O'Neill Shannon Marie McGovern Elkridge, Maryland A Horse is a Horse, of Course, Unless That Horse is a Houyhnhnm: A Look at the Fourth Adventure of Gulliver's Travels Wilmington, Delaware An Inquiry into Madness: Why is Phedre Incapable of Achieving the Necessary Balance between Rea son and Passion? Alexia Cannen Parkas Aeryn Demetri McKenzie Elkton, Maryland Southbury, Connecticut To Be Forgiven Follow Your Leader: Performance and Deception in Benito Gerena Davis Conlin Poore Lyra Jane Meurer Wembley, Australia "Such Gaudy Tulips Rais'd From Dung": An Argument for Love from an Investigation of Disgust in Gulliver's Travels Michael Charles Bruce Powell Easton, Maryland Lee, New Hampshire Faith for This Life : The Role of Finitude in Fear and Trembling Victor Andrew Reczkowski Roanoke, Virginia Speech and Speech-Making in Rousseau's Second Discourse Blythewood, South Carolina Sleeplessness: An Aesthetic Flirtation with Faith Megan Elizabeth Mitchell From Richard's Night to Bolingbroke's Fair Day On Kant's Transcendental Cognition: An Essay on Kant's Critique of Pure Reason Gwen Ivy Milliman Krystal Jessica Mills Sullivans Island, South Caro lina Mark Elijah Reyes Woodbridge, Virginia A Fortunate Age: On the Re lationship Between Hero and Story in Don Quixote Seaside, California Mind the Gap: Th e Philosophical Implications of the Divide of Logic and Intuition in Lobachevski �Emrys Merlin Rhodes Moscow, Idaho How to Walk with a God: An Exam ination of the Relationship between Gods and Humans Gina Louise Vandetty Havertown, Penn sylvania Beyond Teachers and Students: A Search for the Necessity of a Teacher Kyle Joseph Walters Joe Roberts Grand Cayman, Cayman Islands When a Man Loves a Woman: An Examination of Happiness through Love in Pride and Prejudice Baltimore, Maryland Writing and the Task of Being: Rainer Maria Rilke's Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge Frances Clementine Webb Christine Kiyana Rowghani Rolling Hills Estates, California As a Glow Brings Out a Haze: Ambiguity, Narrative, and the Mechanism of Meaning in Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness Brooklyn, New York In the Garden of Women : A Study of Poetic Sensation in Proust's In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower Marina Aud-Jean Weber Maia Gizelle Sekulski Staten Island, New York Sammamish, Washington Wagner's Divine Comedy: Fate, Sacrifice, and Renewa l in The Ring A Journey into the Self: Marlow's Voyage into the Heart of Darkness Catherine Carol White Kimberly Serratos Sugar Land, Texas Oklahoma City, Oklahoma Through Heaven's Eyes: An E loration of Individuality in Dante's Commedia xp On the Potential for Friendship in the Midst of Betrayal and Doubt Christopher James Zeller Chengyaqing Shi Beijing, People's Republic of China South Glastonbury, Connecticut Rationally Postu lating an Irrational Postulate: The Dialectic of Faith Ideal State and Reality: E mining the Mora l Law of Kant xa Siqi Zhao Maxwell Tate Silbiger Marietta, Georgia Urumqi, People's Republic of China Beyond the Flaming Ramparts: Dirac's Symbolic Method Pleasure without Satisfaction in The Rite of Spring Jiayue Zhu Won Kyung Song Yongin-si, South Korea Suzhou, People's Republic of China On Freedom in Heidegger's Being and Time The Philosophical Interpretation of the Life of Prince Andrei Kelli Ann Zinn Miles 0 liver Steinert Fairfield, Connecticut Chandler, Arizona Language in Use and the Dissolution of Meaning The Tragicomedy of Rebirth- An Essay on the Book of Jonah Joseph William Zoller Allison Tretina Maple Shade, New Jersey A Refutation of Leibni z's Identity of lndiscernibles Cern Turkoz The Concept of Mass in Newton's Principia Istanbu l, Turkey "Who are you?": The Character of Alice in Wonderland Rapid City, South Da kota �MASTER OF ARTS IN LIBERAL ARTS Jeremy Matthew Adams Glenn Dale, Maryland PRIZES AND AWARDS To the member of the Senior Class who has written the best senior essay. Offered in memory of Susan Irene Roberts, of the Class of 1966 Flame and Stone: Sight and Interaction in Ovid's Metanwrphoses Eleni Bozori Jeffrey Oliver Brown Conover Athens, Greece Emily Freda Grazier Annapolis, Maryland Honorable Mention Courtney Noelle Crouse Annapolis, Maryland Leland Caswell Ellis, Jr. Takoma Pa rk, Maryland Neil Francis Fennerty D'Angelo Martez Joyce Ross Nicholas Kinney Arlington. Virginia The Great Unfinished Symphony: Identity, Memory, and Change in Lincoln's America Christopher Randolph Hutter To the member of the Junior Class who has written the best annual essay. Offered by Mrs. Leslie Clark Stevens in memory of her daughter-in-law, Kathryn Mylroie Stevens The Roaring Sea Contained: "Continuall Motion" in Hobbes' Natural and Artificial Man Washington, DC Sophy Cordelia Schulman Woodstock, New Brunswick, Canada Honorable Mention In Dreams and Fancy: Where is the Action, Where is the Sin Rachel Catherine Pope Michelle Lafong Rockwitz Tyler Lawrence VanOstrand Pensacola, Florida Baltimore, Maryland Ithaca, New Yo rk Kaitlyn Grace Bredeson To the member of the Sophomore Class who has written the best annual essay. Offered under the will of the late Judge Walter I. Dawkins, of the Class of 1880 An Autobiography of Acedia: On Free Will and Unwillingness in Dante Alighieri's Diuina Commedia Cyrus W. Multhauf Michael Everett VanWie, Jr. Mechanicsville, Maryland Honorable Mention Married to My Work: A Tale of Three Wives Caleb Mauzy Vogel Fort Wayne, Indiana A. Terry Walman Annapolis, Maryland Olivia Rose Frawley To the member of the Freshman Class who has written the best annual essay. I've Got a Friend in Me: On Friendship and Self-Love Erinn Lee Woodside Savage, Maryland Desiree Lydia Jones Honorable Mention (shared) Thucydides' Benevolence, Power, and True Justice Zoe Hinman and A Reflection on Reflection Jaeyon Jo �To the Graduate Institute student who has written a distinguished preceptorial essay in the year 2015. Offered by the Alumn i Assoc iation Per spectives of Mfirmation To the student who submits the most elegant solution of a synthetic problem. Offered by the Class of 1986 in honor of Bryce Jacobsen, of the Class of 1942, Tutor and Director of Athletics Emeritus Louis A. Petri ch IV Donald Robert Lafleur To the student who submits the most elegant solution of an analytical problem. Offered in memory of James R. McClintock, of the Class of 1965 To a member of the Senior Class, for excellence in speaking. Offered in memory of Senator Millard E. Tyd ings of Maryland Ma xwell Tate Silbig er Shared Prize: Kelli Ann Zinn Marina Aud -Je an Weber To the student who carries out a fine laboratory project. Offered in memory of Curtis Wilson by the Class of 1963 Not Awarded To the student who submits the best Engl ish version of a Greek text. Offered in memory of John S. Kieffer, President Emeritus Text : Epictetus, excerpt from Discourses Samuel Michael Hard er To the student who submits the best Engl ish version of a French poem. Offered by the Board of Visitors and Governors Text: Rimbaud, "Une Saison en Enfer" Marie l Mich ael Farh i To the student who submits a fine original English poem. Offered by Dr. George Austin in memory of his brother, Henry To the senior man and woman who, through participation, leadership, and sportsmanship, have contributed most to the SJC athletic program, a special blazer. Ni kos Pau l Frank Jenna Neal Alton To the member of the Senior Class who has contributed outstanding service to the Greater Annapolis Community. Offered by the Caritas Society of St. John's College Shared Prize: Jenn a Neal Alton Jacob Ave ry Ki lgore Adam Re id Kueste r "For Miles or Upon Returning to a Summer Cabin in Late Winter" Erik Gustaf Nea ve Honorable Mention "How t o Speak" Catherine Carol White To the student who submits a fine original musical composition . Offered in memory of Mary Joy Belknap, Pres ident of the Caritas Society 1987-1991 "Sonata - Allegro" Andrew Ryan Kriehn Honorable Mention "Tomorrow Night for Sure" Nathan Miche l Huey To the student who submits a fine essay on a piece of music. Offered in memory of Mary Joy Belknap, President of the Caritas Society 1987-1991 Music and Mu rder in Mozart's Don Giovanni Collin James Ziegler To the member of the Senior Class who has demonstrated the greatest care for and service to youth who reside in the City of Annapolis. Offered by the friends and family of Marvin B. Cooper, of the Class of 1969 Wyatt Murphy Moreton To the member of the Senior Class who submits the best work of visual art to the Community Art Exhibition, the Charles Vernon Moran Prize Untitled, black and white photograph Julia Agnieszk a Kulon To the Senior who has demonstrated excellence in the arts, literature, or sciences, the WalterS. Baird prize. "Sonata - Allegro" Andrew Ryan Kriehn �\ ENDOWED SCHOLARSHIPS Martin Conrad Mi ll er (1981) Book Fund Lawrence Saporta, PhD Pau l Miller Flora Duvall Sayles Philip A. Myers II. 1938 Scholarsh ip Fund 2013 Leslie Milton Abrams, 1954 Ahmet Ertegun Education Fund NationsBank Foundation (Bank of America) Hazel Norris and J Graham Shannahan, 1908 Dr. Granville 0. Adams, 1929 Faculty Scholarship Mildred Alexander Rona ld and Donna Fielding Christopher B. Nelson Scholarship Endowment Doug E. Sherr (1972) Memorial Rudy Simeone Philip L. Alger, 1912 James H. Frame, 1950 Rev. Theo O'Brien Alter Graduate Institute Scholarship Friends of St. John's O'Grady Memorial Thomas J, H94, and Marion K. Slakey Andrew Smith Memoria l Alumni Scholarship Nancy Gannon Gearing Oklahoma Regional J. Winfree Smith, H80 Annapolis Graduate Institute Harry Golding, Graduate Institute Molly Owens Aretei Fund George A. and Eveline T. Greenleaf Norman G Owens . Harry S. and Vivian B. Spectre Book Fund James S. Spirer, 1970 Bradley C. Arms Edna G. and Roscoe E. Grove, 1910 Jules 0. Pagano Memori al Scholarship Fund Raymond and Richard Starke C. V. Starr Foundation George M. Austin, 1908 John T. and Gertrude L. Harrison, 1907 Dr. Thomas Parran and Thomas Parran, Jr. WalterS. Baird, 1930 John T. Harrison, Jr. Passin Family Fund Jean Roberts Staylor Betty Beck Bennett, 1960 Charles W. Hass, 1927 Fred and Marian Billups Henry B. Higman, A48 The Duane and C lementine Peterson Charitable Fund Andrew and Lenore Steiner Book Fund David H. Stephenson Jeff Bishop Memorial Richard H. Hodgson, 1906 Ford K. Brown, H70 The Hodson Trust Alfred and Ruth Houston, 1906 Caritas Society of St. John's College, Inc. Casasco Family Fund Houston Regional Michael Chiantella John Isaacs Chicago Regiona l J. Seward Johnson, Jr. Mrs. Clyde Alvin Clapp Jesse H. and Mary Gibbs Jones James T. Clark, 1928 Col. Robert E. and Margaret Larsh Jones, 1909 Class of 1897 Robert E. Kanode, 1939 Class of 1898 Dr. Simon and F anny Kaplan, H84 Class of 2014 Francis A. Katz, 1929 Richard F. Cleveland, H54 Wil liam R. Kenan, Jr. Trust LD and Paula Pickens Pittsburgh Regional Reader's Digest Foundation J. Douglas Ramsey, 1937 Greg Riley (Class of 1993) Leanore B. Rinder Cleo Ritz Susan I. Roberts, 1966 Clifton C. Roehle Joan and Bela Ronay Murray Joe l and Julius Rosenberg, 1938 G. D. Searle/John E. Robson Robson Family Dr. Charles C. Cook John Spangler Kieffer, H70, and Ro xa na White Kieffer, H84 Marvin Brent Cooper, 1969 Marie Klebe Memorial St. John's College Alumni Association The Joseph and Robert Cornell Memorial Foundation Jacob Klein, H76 J. J. Salovaara Eugene N. (1929) and Robert G (1963) Cozzo lino . Tom and Cathryn Krause Wiley and Helen Crawford Joseph LaPides Bernard Clorety, 1950 Korshin Family Fund Arthur E. and Hilda Combs Landers, 1930 Cpl . George E. Cunniff Ill Michael Littleton Helen Lee DeAioia John D. Mack Donna Marie Delattre Massachusetts Regional Clarence L. Dickinson, 1911 Richard A. Duhan, 1963 James Matthews, H99 Thomas A. and Julia McDonald Martin Dyer Book Fund Middendorf Foundation Rosse Family Clarence W. Stryker Bert Thoms Karl and Evelyn Van Tassel Frederick J. Von Schwerdtner Mr. and Mrs. William J. Vanous Pattie Bourne Turner Walker, 1966 Irving and Loretta Wasserman Charles H. Watts Richard D. Weigle, H49 John L. Williams, 1950 Thomas J. and Marvi l F. Williams Frank K. Wilson, 1935 Winiarski Endowment Fund Delores and Stephen Wolf Kathy and Jerry Wood Foundation �SCHOLARSHIP DONORS 2015/2016 Martha L. Acosta Advance (The Document Speciali sts) Jennifer Backus Benevity Community Impact Fund Fred and Marian Billups BMW of Annapolis Judith and Chris Boughter Philip J. Calinda Connor W. Callahan Mary C. Ca llaway Caritas Society of St. John's College, Inc. Leah Casner Eileen M. Chiantella Karen Chiantella Clark-Winchcole Foundation Paula Clemons Council of Independent Colleges Charles and Deena Cox Robert and Barbara Cozzo lino John M. Daniel Burnet V. Davis Christopher D. Denny El ihu R Dietz . Bryan N. Dorland Vanessa and Alexander Ellermann James Fackino Ill Tessa A. Fallon Kevin M. F arrelly Robert Feldman and Katherine Haas Anne P Fenton Fidelity Charitable Gift Fund Ronald Fielding and Susan Lobell Mary N. Fisher Harvey and Mera Flaumenhaft Alexandra Fotos and Neil Harpe Nicholas Gazzola Alan and Carole Giagnocavo Abigail D. Gillespie Elaine Goodman Google Jonathan D. Hakim Brennan R. Harris Samuel B. and Diane Heavner John P Hetland Mary Hinshaw and James Loftis Henry B. Higman Henry and Marilyn Higuera The Hodson Trust Independent College Fund of Maryland Francis and Bridgett Katz Ensign C. Markland Kelly Jr. Memorial Foundation Edward R. Klebe Mirabai K. Knight Arianne Laidlaw Donald and Barbara Legate Andrea M. Light Kristen and Jim Litsinger Herminia T. Littl eton Teresina G. Lucero Christopher and Khemika Marks Martica LLC Julie R. Martin Matz-Warner Family F oundation Nicolette M. Maimone Omar Manejwala Colin P Meeder Rebecca Meick Bonnie L. Melton Mennonite Foundation Merrill Lynch Allen and Sandra Miller Christopher B. Nelson and Joyce A. Olin Julie J. Olenn Edward Pagano Amy Parakkat Candice Peck Hayden Pendergrass Leo Pickens and Valerie Pawlewicz Michelle Porcelli PNC Financial Services Group David and Cherie Rees David and Victoria Riley Rosemary Rinder Rebecca Ripperton Joseph and Barbara Roach Thomas and Florence Rosse Rosse Family Charitable Foundation Sandy Spring National Bank of Maryland Li sa Boughter Saporta Didrik Schanche and Todd Shields Morgan Hough and Kristin Schee l Kurt Hecke l and Sara Schoedinger Andrew Schulman E and C ric atheri ne Schu lman Karyl Scri ve ner Steven and Meli ssa Sed li s Li sa Sirianni Sma rt F amily Foundation lan Smith and Kate R ooney P amela Stark Richard and Mary Stead Jordan and C atherine Stern Donald Stone Michael and R achel Sulliva n eter alty alty P T and Li nda Stabl er-T Kevin and Sonora Thomas TIAA-CR EF David Tri mmer Uni ted P arcel Service Danie l Van Doren Ceci l Wade Scott Walters and Kimberly Hunter P eter and C Weiss ora Jeff Whittington Les ley Willi ams Kay Wi sehart Delores E. Wolf Dan iel Wood David Wool wine �CONGRATULATIONS, ALUMNI. Stay in touch. Get involved. Give back. sjc.edu 410-626-2531 � 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 Commencement Programs and Addresses Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Description An account of the resource Addresses given at commencement and programs of events related to, and including, the annual commencement ceremonies at St. John's College. Includes both the undergraduate and Graduate Institute commencements. <br /><br />The College Archives holds programs and/or addresses for the following years:<br /> <ul> <li>1796</li> <li>1835-1836</li> <li>1842</li> <li>1852</li> <li>1856-1857</li> <li>1870</li> <li>1878</li> <li>1880</li> <li>1890</li> <li>1893</li> <li>1895</li> <li>1897</li> <li>1907</li> <li>1910-1918</li> <li>1920-1924</li> <li>1928-1929</li> <li>1932</li> <li>1936-1937</li> <li>1939-1945</li> <li>1947-present  </li> </ul> Click on <strong><a title="Commencement Programs and Addresses" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=18&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&amp;sort_dir=d">Items in the Commencement Programs and Addresses Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context commencementprograms 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. 11 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 Commencement Program, 2016 Description An account of the resource Program for the two hundred twenty-fourth commencement in the three hundred twentieth year of the college. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource St. John's College 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 2016-05-15 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 CommencementExercises2016 Subject The topic of the resource Commencement (St. John's College, Annapolis, MD) Commencement https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/19ce8e26d93a9c3bc6f03687413ac462.jpg c470de11475f992bc826dd442913435f Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Image Collection—Annapolis Description An account of the resource <p>The Greenfield Library Image Collection houses over 5,000 photographs, postcards, drawings, and other graphic materials.  The images in the collection document the history, academic, and community life of St. John’s College. </p> To learn more about the Greenfield Library's archives use policy or to obtain high-resolution images, please see the <strong><a title="Image Collection Use Policy" href="http://www.sjc.edu/academic-programs/libraries/greenfield-library/policies/#photographicarchivepolicy" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Library’s Image Collection Use Policy</a></strong>.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Photographic Archives" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=7">Items in the Image Collection—Annapolis Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context imagecollectionannapolis Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data photograph Physical Dimensions The actual physical size of the original image 12.5 x 9 cm. Resolution Resolution of the image in dpi. 600 dpi 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 Unknown Title A name given to the resource Franklin R. Atwell Presenting Richard D. Weigle with the Alumni Association of St. John's College Award of Merit, an Honorary Degree for the Class of 1949, Bay Ridge Inn, Annapolis, Maryland Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1979-11 Description An account of the resource 1 photographic print : b&w Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SJC-P-0629 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 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this photograph. Subject The topic of the resource Weigle, Richard Daniel 1912- Atwell, Franklin R. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource jpeg Type The nature or genre of the resource still image Presidents https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/396595412f6e863832099fa6e846cf37.jpg 570c8405d3b644d450c928dea99bd420 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Image Collection—Annapolis Description An account of the resource <p>The Greenfield Library Image Collection houses over 5,000 photographs, postcards, drawings, and other graphic materials.  The images in the collection document the history, academic, and community life of St. John’s College. </p> To learn more about the Greenfield Library's archives use policy or to obtain high-resolution images, please see the <strong><a title="Image Collection Use Policy" href="http://www.sjc.edu/academic-programs/libraries/greenfield-library/policies/#photographicarchivepolicy" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Library’s Image Collection Use Policy</a></strong>.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Photographic Archives" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=7">Items in the Image Collection—Annapolis Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context imagecollectionannapolis Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data photograph Physical Dimensions The actual physical size of the original image 12.5 x 9 cm. Resolution Resolution of the image in dpi. 600 dpi 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 Unknown Title A name given to the resource Richard D. Weigle at Podium Speaking at a St. John's College Alumni Association Meeting, Bay Ridge Inn, Annapolis, Maryland Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1979-11 Description An account of the resource 1 photographic print : b&w Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SJC-P-0630 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 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this photograph. Subject The topic of the resource Weigle, Richard Daniel 1912- Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource jpeg Type The nature or genre of the resource still image Presidents https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/461274cea530d3b53706ef9fcdfd73b1.jpg b4e85490d8e7be6f0ba6df91f962303a Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Image Collection—Annapolis Description An account of the resource <p>The Greenfield Library Image Collection houses over 5,000 photographs, postcards, drawings, and other graphic materials.  The images in the collection document the history, academic, and community life of St. John’s College. </p> To learn more about the Greenfield Library's archives use policy or to obtain high-resolution images, please see the <strong><a title="Image Collection Use Policy" href="http://www.sjc.edu/academic-programs/libraries/greenfield-library/policies/#photographicarchivepolicy" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Library’s Image Collection Use Policy</a></strong>.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Photographic Archives" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=7">Items in the Image Collection—Annapolis Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context imagecollectionannapolis Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data photograph Physical Dimensions The actual physical size of the original image 12.5 x 17.5 cm. Resolution Resolution of the image in dpi. 600 dpi 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 Warren, M.E. Title A name given to the resource Ford K. Brown, in Academic Robe, at a Podium, Speaking during Commencement, St. John's College, Annapolis, Maryland Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1950-1955 [circa] Description An account of the resource 1 photographic print : b&w Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SJC-P-0022 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 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this photograph. Subject The topic of the resource Brown, Ford Keeler. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource jpeg Type The nature or genre of the resource still image Commencement Tutors https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/f386e24f851a93a6ec29a46419006828.jpg 09473de499076d9bb9d6a93e2717aa05 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Image Collection—Annapolis Description An account of the resource <p>The Greenfield Library Image Collection houses over 5,000 photographs, postcards, drawings, and other graphic materials.  The images in the collection document the history, academic, and community life of St. John’s College. </p> To learn more about the Greenfield Library's archives use policy or to obtain high-resolution images, please see the <strong><a title="Image Collection Use Policy" href="http://www.sjc.edu/academic-programs/libraries/greenfield-library/policies/#photographicarchivepolicy" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Library’s Image Collection Use Policy</a></strong>.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Photographic Archives" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=7">Items in the Image Collection—Annapolis Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context imagecollectionannapolis Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data photograph Physical Dimensions The actual physical size of the original image 25 x 20.5 cm. Resolution Resolution of the image in dpi. 600 dpi 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 Fox, Cecil H. Title A name given to the resource Portrait of Ford K. Brown Seated on a Bench in the Quad in front of Randall Hall, St. John's College, Annapolis, Maryland Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1972-08 Description An account of the resource 1 photographic print : b&w Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SJC-P-0023 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 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this photograph. Subject The topic of the resource Brown, Ford Keeler. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource jpeg Type The nature or genre of the resource still image Tutors https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/2dbc55d3a55a373690df6435ad7bbb86.jpg 715113ea7b7ec1e028af72c6a8ff2288 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Image Collection—Annapolis Description An account of the resource <p>The Greenfield Library Image Collection houses over 5,000 photographs, postcards, drawings, and other graphic materials.  The images in the collection document the history, academic, and community life of St. John’s College. </p> To learn more about the Greenfield Library's archives use policy or to obtain high-resolution images, please see the <strong><a title="Image Collection Use Policy" href="http://www.sjc.edu/academic-programs/libraries/greenfield-library/policies/#photographicarchivepolicy" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Library’s Image Collection Use Policy</a></strong>.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Photographic Archives" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=7">Items in the Image Collection—Annapolis Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context imagecollectionannapolis Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data photograph Physical Dimensions The actual physical size of the original image 12.5 x 18 cm. Resolution Resolution of the image in dpi. 600 dpi 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 Unknown Title A name given to the resource Simon Kaplan Standing outside in front of an Open Door, St. John's College, Annapolis, Maryland Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1947 [circa] Description An account of the resource 1 photographic print : b&w Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SJC-P-0050 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 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this photograph. Subject The topic of the resource Kaplan, Simon. 1893-1979. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource jpeg Type The nature or genre of the resource still image Tutors https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/1d1b1c7e51b62aece5b7b9fec802d46a.jpg 27b79ab0093e85855b14ad00874ce2e9 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Image Collection—Annapolis Description An account of the resource <p>The Greenfield Library Image Collection houses over 5,000 photographs, postcards, drawings, and other graphic materials.  The images in the collection document the history, academic, and community life of St. John’s College. </p> To learn more about the Greenfield Library's archives use policy or to obtain high-resolution images, please see the <strong><a title="Image Collection Use Policy" href="http://www.sjc.edu/academic-programs/libraries/greenfield-library/policies/#photographicarchivepolicy" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Library’s Image Collection Use Policy</a></strong>.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Photographic Archives" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=7">Items in the Image Collection—Annapolis Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context imagecollectionannapolis Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data photograph Physical Dimensions The actual physical size of the original image 9.5 x 12 cm. Resolution Resolution of the image in dpi. 600 dpi 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 Unknown Title A name given to the resource Portrait of Simon Kaplan Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1960-1970 [circa] Description An account of the resource 1 photographic print : b&w Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SJC-P-0052 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 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this photograph. Subject The topic of the resource Kaplan, Simon. 1893-1979. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource jpeg Type The nature or genre of the resource still image Tutors