5 20 5655 https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/282236688c78da037dc3fbc2df5c312f.pdf 87d5367aa7f52227fc93ae55401c61bb 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 Gadfly Description An account of the resource Founded in 1980, The Gadfly is a weekly student publication distributed to over 600 students, faculty, and staff of the Annapolis campus. Click on <a title="The Gadfly" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=16&sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&sort_dir=d">Items in the The Gadfly Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thegadfly Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. 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. 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 The Gadfly, Vol. XXXIX Issue 01 Description An account of the resource Volume XXXIX, Issue 01 of The Gadfly. Published September 6, 2017. (Misnumbered as Vol. XXXVIV, Issue 01). Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anderson, Kira (Editor-in-Chief) Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2017-09-06 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Type The nature or genre of the resource text Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Vol. 39 Issue 01 September 6, 2017 Gadfly Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/a42bedd2daf96c4d565ea6656cd1c709.pdf 51bf06a285f4455bc285111192f86643 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 Gadfly Description An account of the resource Founded in 1980, The Gadfly is a weekly student publication distributed to over 600 students, faculty, and staff of the Annapolis campus. Click on <a title="The Gadfly" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=16&sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&sort_dir=d">Items in the The Gadfly Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thegadfly Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 8 pages Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Gadfly, Vol. XXXVIII, Issue 11 Description An account of the resource Volume XXXVIII, Issue 11 of The Gadfly. Published May 2, 2017. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anderson, Kira (Editor-in-Chief) Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2017-05-02 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Type The nature or genre of the resource text Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Vol. 38 Issue 11 May 2, 2017 Gadfly Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/d02ad0483b3ce2ed6fcac261ce672e9f.pdf 7af2e097c27d17c319b7ff44a4b7238f 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 Gadfly Description An account of the resource Founded in 1980, The Gadfly is a weekly student publication distributed to over 600 students, faculty, and staff of the Annapolis campus. Click on <a title="The Gadfly" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=16&sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&sort_dir=d">Items in the The Gadfly Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thegadfly Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 12 pages Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Gadfly, Vol. XXXVIII, Issue 10 Description An account of the resource Volume XXXVIII, Issue 10 of The Gadfly. Published April 20, 2017. Special Issue: Croquet. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anderson, Kira (Editor-in-Chief) Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2017-04-20 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Type The nature or genre of the resource text Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Vol. 28 Issue 10 April 20, 2017 Croquet Gadfly Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/34aba77c1145e710e885befbf15e9253.pdf 5960296eaa01244a15560722173987e8 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 Gadfly Description An account of the resource Founded in 1980, The Gadfly is a weekly student publication distributed to over 600 students, faculty, and staff of the Annapolis campus. Click on <a title="The Gadfly" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=16&sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&sort_dir=d">Items in the The Gadfly Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thegadfly Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 12 pages Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Gadfly, Vol. XXXVIII, Issue 09 Description An account of the resource Volume XXXVIII, Issue 09 of The Gadfly. Published April 11, 2017. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anderson, Kira (Editor-in-Chief) Grauberd, Jonathan (Editor-in-Chief) Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2017-04-11 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Type The nature or genre of the resource text Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Vol. 38 Issue 9 April 11, 2017 Gadfly Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/c51d49f031652ab8d65f5ca15eba9850.jpg f7fd45ddd3f47ab841f10842909a336b 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 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. To learn more about the Greenfield Library's archives use policy or to obtain high-resolution images, please see the <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>. Click on <a title="Photographic Archives" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=7">Items in the Image Collection—Annapolis Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context imagecollectionannapolis Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Physical Dimensions The actual physical size of the original image 20.5 x 25.5 cm. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Photograph Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SJC-P-1284 Title A name given to the resource A Student in the Stacks in the Woodward Hall Library, St. John's College, Annapolis, Maryland Description An account of the resource 1 photographic print : b&w Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anne Arundel Photographers Subject The topic of the resource St. John's College (Annapolis, Md.) -- Students. 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 Type The nature or genre of the resource Still Image Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource jpeg Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this photograph. Woodward Hall Library https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/ee4bf0f2e79fd107741f413f01b5937e.jpg 6966d4c7c0428a29b6525a87c64d6f76 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 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. To learn more about the Greenfield Library's archives use policy or to obtain high-resolution images, please see the <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>. Click on <a title="Photographic Archives" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=7">Items in the Image Collection—Annapolis Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context imagecollectionannapolis Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Physical Dimensions The actual physical size of the original image 20.5 x 25.5 cm. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Photograph Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SJC-P-1414 Title A name given to the resource Student Studying in the Woodward Hall Library, St. John's College, Annapolis, Maryland Description An account of the resource 1 photographic print : b&w Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anne Arundel Photographers Subject The topic of the resource St. John's College (Annapolis, Md.). -- Students. 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 Type The nature or genre of the resource Still Image Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource jpeg Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's college owns the rights to this photograph. Woodward Hall Library https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/d34c81094e626fe325928d8eaa8b5c83.jpg b0b936a94ff684a8a762c93701603a30 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 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. To learn more about the Greenfield Library's archives use policy or to obtain high-resolution images, please see the <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>. Click on <a title="Photographic Archives" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=7">Items in the Image Collection—Annapolis Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context imagecollectionannapolis Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Physical Dimensions The actual physical size of the original image 25.5 x 20.5 cm. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Photograph Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SJC-P-1415 Title A name given to the resource The West Reading Room of the Woodward Hall Library, St. John's College, Annapolis, Maryland Description An account of the resource 1 photographic print : b&w Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1960-1968 [circa] Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anne Arundel Photographers Subject The topic of the resource St. John's College (Annapolis, Md.). -- Students. 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 Type The nature or genre of the resource Still Image Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource jpeg Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's college owns the rights to this photograph. Woodward Hall Library https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/0ab705c51d21a0d172890d77a82608a6.jpg cfdb89bb415d3b27a688744e93e0c122 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 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. To learn more about the Greenfield Library's archives use policy or to obtain high-resolution images, please see the <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>. Click on <a title="Photographic Archives" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=7">Items in the Image Collection—Annapolis Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context imagecollectionannapolis Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Physical Dimensions The actual physical size of the original image 25.5 x 20.5 cm. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Photograph Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SJC-P-1424 Title A name given to the resource Student Seated at Desk Reading a Book in the Woodward Hall Library, St. John's College, Annapolis, Maryland Description An account of the resource 1 photographic print : b&w Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1960-1968 [circa] Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anne Arundel Photographers Subject The topic of the resource St. John's College (Annapolis, Md.). -- Students. 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 Type The nature or genre of the resource Still Image Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource jpeg Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's college owns the rights to this photograph. Woodward Hall Library https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/2d75ae11980eec257044e637c25ebce8.jpg 63cb0b8d565d6cdaaccf5952ae9c6e06 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 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. To learn more about the Greenfield Library's archives use policy or to obtain high-resolution images, please see the <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>. Click on <a title="Photographic Archives" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=7">Items in the Image Collection—Annapolis Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context imagecollectionannapolis Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Physical Dimensions The actual physical size of the original image 20.5 x 25.5 cm. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Photograph Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SJC-P-2041 Title A name given to the resource A Student Climbing on the Bookshelves of the Woodward Hall Library, St. John's College, Annapolis, Maryland Description An account of the resource 1 photographic print : b&w Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anne Arundel Photographers 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 Type The nature or genre of the resource Still Image Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource jpeg Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this photograph. Woodward Hall Library https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/1d5ccdafc243dac46fcd7d32bb0855f8.pdf e6fa88eb3bf9c5485b25e57ef2e90339 PDF Text Text THE The St.john's College Student Weekly Volume: 7 mL, Issue: Natural rights ID FLY Annapolis, Maryland April 1, 1999 J �The Case of the Missing Seal T H E G A D F L Y S T A F F Editor-in-Chief Anonymous Production Manager Anonymous Production Staff cover photo by ...Keep Wondering Spring at St. John's Letters of 200 words or less have a better chance of being published than those longer. Letters submitted will be edited for grammar, punctuation, and spelling in most cases. The Gadfly is not obligated to publish all submissions and will not print anonymous submissions except under special circumstances. Founded in 1980, the Gadfly is the student weekly distributed free to over 600 students, faculty. and staff of the Annapolis campus as well as tutors emeriti, members of the Board of Visitors and Governors, and the offices at the St. John's Santa Fe campus. Opinions expressed within are the sole responsibility of the author(s). The Gadfly reserves the right to accept, reject, and edit submissions in any way necessary to publish the most professional, informative, and thought-provoking newspaper which circumstances at St. John's permit. Yearly subscriptions are available for $30.00. Tax-deductible contributions are greatly appreciated. Please make checks payable to the Gadfly. For display advertisement prices and information, call 410-2632371, x 2212. by Anonymous place for people to search for the runaw ay You know, the big metal disk that used to lie on the stairs leading down from the quad to back campus. It's missing. But no one knows anything about it ... maybe. We, be- Seal of St. John's College, so they headed north. We can only hope that they did not journey through Kosovo, but flew or sailed to their next destination: the British Isles. ing the eyes and ears on campus, can give you all the inside information you want. We can't tell you who has the seal, for fear of losing our precious lives, but we Arriving at Heathrow, as we suspect they did, they began their tour of London. We can tell you where it might be. Perhaps, now that they have been exposed, the perpetrators of this vile theft will come fo rward to return the Symbol of the St. Jo hn's Educa tion . Perhaps, now that the administrati on 2 ~ THE GADFLY - received photog raphs of the Seal at St. Paul's, Buckingham Palace, the Grand Meridian , and one of those bright red two-sto ry tour buses. They b egan a ·pilg rimage to Cante rbury but w ere apparently accosted and d issuaded from su ch religious nonsense an d enThe sign of the Seal couraged to more earthly know s that we have realized the absence, pu rsuits. The next photograph we received they w ill replace the seal as soon as it re- from them showed the seal, suspended hunturns. dreds of feet ab ove t he earth, trying to kiss We have received photographs, an on y- the Blarney Stone. Assuming that the seal mously, revealing the whereabouts of the had not developed lips b etw een the time of seal. Unfortunately, we cannot share them its departure and it s arrival in Ireland, it with you, because the photographs self-de- failed. structed five minutes after we saw them . The nex t pho t ograph we re c eive d H ow ever, they outlined a st range and w on- seem ed to h ave nothing to do with a linear drous journey on which the seal-nappers path of travel around th e world, as it h ad have taken our monument. been taken in a spacecraft that was orbiting In the few days since the seal was re- Mars at the time. moved, it has traveled across the w orld, We have reason to b elieve, however, that even b eyond the limits of our atm osphere, but we have reason to b elieve t hat it is soon to b e returned to us. T he itin erary, as closely as we can follow it from th e ph otographs, follow s: first, the perpet rators took a photograph of the seal cam ou flage d amidst the mosaic tile floor of the Taj Mahal. They b alanced it precariou sly among th e scattered stones that m ark th e site of th e Battle Deadline: Friday at 5:30 pm unless permission for a delay is granted in advance. Submissions will be accepted as long as they are legibly written, but typed copies or diskettes are greatly preferred. that such classical sites would be the first OK. I know you've all noticed it by now. of T hermopylae. There is a picture of it among the ruins of the Parthen on . It has been in the courtyard of St. Peter's in Rome and the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul. Apparently, how ever, th e seal-nappers tho u ght APRI L l, 1999 the seal is m aking its way home. In a particularly blasph emou s photograph, which we received not long ago, the seal was delicately b alan ced (obviously the work of a m aster engineer) atop the flagpole in front of Bancroft Hall o n the N aval Academy g rounds. We're not sure quite wh at to make of this, but we su spect that th e perpetrators are attem pting to reen act a Warner Brothers' cartoon, snickering behind th e bushes as the m etaphorical anvil falls on som e u nsu specting midshipman's head, driving him six feet vertically into the g round. Marvellous Things Heard by Anonymous Welcome to anoth er sporadically-published Idjly. After looking over the Febbies, w e at the 'Fly decided that some of them might enjoy spurious rumors spread via pompously-w ritten tripe, so w e've decided to add two January frosh to our elite audience . Therefore, for th e benefit of our new members, I'm going to remind you all of the purpose of m y column . Everyone know s that life at SJC is governed by one basic principle: if you hear a rumor, it m u st be true, and if you think - Several tutors voiced objections to the Buildings and Grounds office's proposed shower improvements. The tutors commented that the lightning-fast temper ature changes in the bathrooms make students "more alert" during 9 am classes. Job Oppor tunity My sources inform me th at several Johnnies now work at a broth el in New sending out its message of liberal arts pride from atop the pile of dirt left by the old seal. - Enabling decisions this year will be made by casting dice fo r each student's name. Cat's eyes means you 're screwed. / tion of the Star Wars premiere. Camp out in Washington? You mean, sit on the sidewalk of a dubious n eighborhood in our nation's capital withou t some serious artillery or at least a bulletproof vest? T hat's a little somethin' I like to call Asking for Murder. More people get killed in DC every year than in nearly any other city.The alum designing this scheme also merits criticism for thinly disguising this plot. I mean, as if anybody is actually so hopelessly socially awk- . ward th at he would camp out waiting for a LucasFilms premiere; nobody's going to fall for that. something's a con spiracy, you' re damn right. What follows is my regular column of the latest absolutely accurate, but little known , t r uths. It' s yo u r Co n sp ir acy Shortlist. Basically that's the only thing th at ties these paragraphs together, but we at the Idfly value the non-sequitur as essential to good writing. They Said I Couldn't Tape Record My Seminar... .. .but they didn't say anything abou t faculty meetings. A source passed on a recording of the latest meeting to me. - The faculty an d administration voted on a new school seal. T h e advancement office representative suggested something "fresh for the nineties," and, after looking at his copy of the school budget, added "cheap" to th e criteria. Everyone was in favor of keeping orange as a school color, because who doesn't look great in orange? After much deliberation, a large orange and white traffic cone was selected to stand proudly at the base of the steps to the quad, to camp out in Washington , DC for "several days" in front of a th eatre in anticipa- Paca-Carroll: Germ Refuge There is a warm, dark, moist room on second-floor Paca labeled "TB Room." TB, for those of you who don't know, stands for "tuberculosis." Clearly, this is part of the administration's attempt to force everyone to buy St. John's health insu rance. The unknown ldflywrit er York. I was able to make contact with one such alumna; we'll call her Candy. I asked Candy why she had chosen the world's oldest profession and what role SJC played. She replied, "On how to be a prostitute , I learned nothing. On why I would want to be a prosti91te, everything." Alum Seeks to Kill Students A former Johnnie recently posted a sign on the door of the Campbell Common Room. The sign is brightly colored to lure in unsuspecting students. It invites Johnnies Administration Votes In a New Expulsion Policy Pleased by the success of the recent firings of certain college employees who had th e gall to actually do their jobs, administrators now plan to begin expelling students who do their work. They plan to tell these students that they are not being expelled; it's just that their seminar seats have been elem inated. Something to think about: Flaumenhaft means "plumlike" in German. Next issue: That Dry Spot on the Quad: a mystery solved, and much more. J{appy J{o[idays from tfie Jarlfly. 'Tfiere will be no issue on 'Tuesday, !April 6 because tfie editor and production manager are going fiome to celebrate 'Easter. 'Tfi.e next yadjly will be coming out on !April 13. :Have a lovely weekend. THE G ADFLY - APRI L l, 1999 3 �How hard can it possibly be? A rant by Josh Emmons the polity shouldn't bother them outside of their posted hours (that they were never computers in the lab, only Grendel has a tongue and made both suggestions and excuses - I know many in the polity have as around during). I can sympathize. If doing current enough virus list to detect this bug. your job is cramping your social life, then Total time to complete: maybe 30 min. quit your job or demand more help. Hire . more students. If students can't do it, I know Toner is always running out. Over the of many people who wouldn't mind getting last week of senior essay writing there was paid $7.00 or so to sit in a lab for an hour well. But today it became clear to me. Nothing is going to get done unless we all, simultaneously, demand change . I admit that I'm writing this letter because I personally can't take the poor state of the computer lab anymore. I hope that many of you feel the same way, because the condition it is in no toner to be had. This happened again over freshman [and sophomore] paper writing. The fix? Check for toner! The printer has a low toner warning light. Check the printer once even every two days (maybe once' a day over essay writing). is really nothing short of a crying shame. To those of you who have no strong feelings one way or another, I suggest you ask yourself one simple question: How hard can it possibly be to maintain a computer lab? I'm here to tell you folks, it's not that hard. Befor.e you all flame me for making broad, unsubstantiated claims,· take a look at the list below. There are all easy fixes that would not take more than an hour or two to complete. If you look at this list and say, "Yeah, that would make the lab/my life sooooooo much better if that happened," then please say something to the administration, the lab managers, anyone you can. You don't have to yell at them, just let them know. Because I'm convinced that, though they mean well, they are utterly disconnected from the problems going on in the lab. Let's not let this vital student resource rot because of ignorance. Total time to complete: 15 min a week Pardon me while I go on for a bit about the computer lab. Some might consider this a touchy su bject, but not I. I've bit my Things that would make the lab a better place: All of the PCs, apart from Grendel, have Microsoft Word viruses on them. If you have typed a paper on the PCs in the last month, your file is' probably infected. No one is really sure what these viruses can or will do to your files. Right now all we know is that sometimes files won't load and other times Word locks up when you try to exit. The file I'm writing right now has a virus on it, so I must submit this to the Gadfly in printed form. The fix? Install anti-virus software! That seems like a no brainer, yet of all the 4 ~ THE GADFLY - Get speakers for the PCs. I admit that I don't think this is necessary. I'm not sure why student would need to hear little beeps from the computers they are working on. But the administration bought and installed six Sound Blaster sound cards for the computers. You can see the boxes of them in the lab office. Why did they do it? You don't need a sound card to listen to your CDs (which is the only thing I see students listening to anyway). Still, it seems silly to make an expensive investment in hardware and then leave us with no way to utilize that investment. The fix? Get speakers or show the polity where to plug in headphones. Sounds simple, right? Total time: as much time as it takes to plug in speakers How many times has it happened to you? You have a question or your essay gets wiped and you can't find a lab manager anywhere. I'd say it happens a lot, because anytime I go into the lab, people swamp me with questions, and I don't even work there. I wrote my essay in the lab because I knew no one would be there to help any poor souls who had trouble. The fix? Make the lab managers keep posted hours. They did this once, at the beginning of the year. But the hours were obscure (before 7:00 am???), and the managers didn't stick to them anyway. The managers also whined (there's really no other word for it) that "they had lives too" and APRIL 1. 1999 permanent storage solution. But what choice do the users have? They can't save their work on the local hard drive because it will either mysteriously disappear (if it's on the desktop), get erased by a malicious user, or (this and answer questions. Total time: If lab managers would show up one hour a day after sunrise and before is the best case scenario, if you can believe it) the file will only be accessible from that computer (how many times have you had to move for some person who wrote their paper on the machine they're using). The fix: There are a few. First, the PCs sunset, I would be happy. They would get paid for it, too. should adopt a scheme like the one that is used on the Macs. Have one file server And oh, the Macintoshes. I'm not a big Mac fan, but even I feel sorry for those pieces of hardware. They' re dirty. The lowly Mac in the corner doesn't know where the network is half the time. There is only one Mac in the lab that has a working disk drive. The keyboards ssssssssssstick, making the machine annoying at best and unusable at worst. The fix? Replace bad drives. Buy handiwipes and apply them. Replace bogus network cables or whatever is ailing the Power Base 240. Swap and/ or replace keys/keyboards. Total time: I can put a drive in a Mac in under 10 min. Keyboards just plug into the side. Cleaning them will probably take the most time. On any random day that I walk into the lab, at least one machine is locked solid. This is an easy thing to fix, as most of the time it only requires a re-boot. But most users either lack the knowledge to do so or are afraid that they'll be whipped by the lab managers if they touch the computers in an odd way. The result: said frozen com· puter is unusable until someone who has the knowledge or fears not the lab manag· ers re-boots the machine. The fix? Have the Lab Managers look for locked computers when they are in the lab during their "posted hours". The time: See above I know of no fewer than four people who lost their essays because they stored their only copy on a disk. This is not surprising- disks are not meant to be used as a store all files and point all the computers to that server. That way all your files would be accessible on all the computers and Joe Meany couldn't erase them if he tried. Another solution would be to give users access to their home directories on the email server via Samba, IMAP, or the like. If password caching were disabled this would be secure, and users could access their files from anywhere in the world! Total time: Of all my suggestions, this one would take the most time to implement. But there is a G3 fileserver running for the Macs already, so half the job would already be done. The other half would just be setting up NT accounts, which could be sync-ed with the existing email accounts, (and would fix the mysterious "account expired" bug that's been floating around the lab now and again) and pointing them to a file server. I'd say it would be a one-time investment of two weeks. There are many more things that could be done to improve the lab, like adding user requested software, and keeping paper stocked in the printer. I would encourage any who think of other items to add them to this list by writing to the Gadfly or talking to someone in the Computer Department. I'd also like to point out that the people (I'm going to stick with the policy of this letter about not naming names, even though these people deserve recognition) responsible for networking all the dorm rooms and maintaining said network have, in my opinion, done an excellent job. I don't think that they are responsible for the lab in any way. If they are I hope they try to apply the same effort to the lab as they did to the wiring of the school. In closing I'd just like to say .that I am acutely aware that the small size of St.John's limits our ability to have the best cutting· edge computer lab and equipment, but nothing I have listed here is out of the reach of even the smallest computer department. One of the things at St. John's that ought to make up for our lack of supplies or equipment is the advantage of having a lab ma· neuverable and adaptable enough to respond to polity needs. It's not that hard, and it's the Right Thing to do. -Josh Emmons, '99 (j -emmons@sjca.edu) S. C. I . R E p 0 be included. The second suggestion is to increase the rigor of the aspects of calculus that are used in the senior laboratory and mathematics tutorials. In the course of discussion, a significant contrast became apparent between the study of ancient and modern mathematics. A coherent progression is evident in our studies of geometry, astronomy, and conics that extends to the foundations of algebra. Through our disregard for number and other aspects of the notation of the more modern mathematics, the progression of the history of mathematics becomes unclear. This results in a disjointed inquiry into the modern mathematics which leaves ample space for the criticism of the junior by Ms. Jessica Reitz 'O 1 Members present at the Tuesday, March 23, 1999 meeting of the Student Committee on Instruction were freshman represen· tatives Mr. Kovacik and Ms. Seay, sophomore representatives Mr. Dowling and Ms. Reitz, junior representatives Messrs. Carney and Glodek, senior representatives Messrs. Soejoto and Forrester, and chairman Mr. Davidoff. PLATO IN THE SPRINGTIME begins just one week from today! These seminars are held Tuesday nights in April at 7 pm in Room 23, McDowell Hall. The first seminar will be led by Mr. Dink on the dialogue: Alciabides. All are invited to attend! Our meeting opened with a discussion of the role of the Kuder Manual, An Introduction to Calculus, in the junior mathemat- ics tutorial. This manual is the focus of the junior mathematics tutorial for four to six weeks in the fall. The most centered criticism of this manual is that it lacks the sense of a dialectic inquiry. In order to alleviate this dearth, two suggestions were made. The first is that papers and essays considered as context for the notation of calculus THE GADFLY - R T mathematics tutorial. The agenda for our next meeting, scheduled for Tuesday, March 30, 1999, is posted; we will be discussing the junior mathemat· ics tutorial with reference to the questions that will best serve the goals of the tutorial. We especially encourage members of the present junior class to attend. Please join us this Tuesday at 11:45 am in the private din· ingroom. APRIL 1. 1999 5 �some information about future airstrikes. Surface to air missile (SAM) batteries will i': receive first priority; in order to pave the way ~ for later strikes against Serbian ground ~ forces operating in Kosovo. When criticized ~ for not reacting to reports that the recent 0 ~ Serbian offensives are directed against eth~ nic Albanians in Kosovo, a European offi~ cial retorted, "We have a plan and we're ~ executing the plan." Pentagon officials ex1'.··-'-'~··-<IR ---;·-·-'-·-'·-IF! ""'"'-'---'--'"-""' g pressed similar sentiments, aJ Strikes Against Yuaoslavia Continue b Following several days of airstrikes and planning, Serbia has settled down for a long struggle, preparing to hold out against NATO and American armed forces as long as possible. Friday, the Serbian government cut all diplomatic ties with the United States, France, the United Kingdom, and Germany. Furthermore, all Western journalists and aid groups, with the exception of the Red Cross, were expelled from Serbian territory. Accordingly, very little information passes out of the now besieged Balkan nation, and Western citizens and governments alike have- found it hard to judge the veracity of what information has leaked out of Serbia. ABC Senior Vice President Bob Murphy explained the situation, saying, "Just because journalists have been expelled or detained doesn't mean that you're totally cutoff from first hand accounts of what's going on ... still, this ranks up there as one of the scarier periods [due to the] confusion, almost approaching chaos." The current situation in the Balkans remains complicated as NATO attempts to assess what damage the airstrikes inflicted and how to correlate future political plans with the military situation. Serbian officials reported that 10 civilians and one soldier died in the attacks; an additional 60 individuals were wounded. The airstrikes were aimed at airbases, command centers, air defense installations and other military compounds. According to President Clinton and various cabinet members, they are "very satisfied" with the strikes. The Washington Post reported that NATO aircraft shot down four Yugoslav Mig-29, while all of the 400 allied aircraft returned safely. Reportedly the airstrikes caused Yugoslav troops to move from "offensive positions" to "defensive positions." Nonetheless, ground fighting in Kosovo appears to have intensified as a result of the airstrikes. Serbian offensives continued in north-central Kosovo and near the city of Pee, in the west. Detailed reports of the ground fighting, if they exist, have not appeared in public. General Wesley Clark, NATO's senior commander, gave a brief comment on the matter, announcing, "We do see the evidence of continued, and even intensifying, operations in [Kosovo]." He gave no explanation of what specifically he meant. American military officials did release even though they predicted that Serbian forces would accelerate offensive actions against Kosovar forces. If the Yugoslav air-defense network does not incur significant damage, NATO air forces will begin to receive damage~ which will result in pilots killed or captured. So far, NATO pilots have not reported any antiaircraft missile launches, although they received sporadic gunfire . In addition, about a dozen Yugoslav Mig-29s attempted to intercept the striking aircraft. The lack of SAM launches could indicate that airstrikes damaged the Yugoslav air defense network beyond function or, much worse, Yugoslav planners intend to hold their SAMs in reserve, awaiting future airstrikes. Evidence indicates that the Yugoslav army has dispersed some SAM launchers, awaiting low- ' altitude airstrikes against ground forces in Kosovo. One Pentagon officer summed up the issue, by saying "we're still flying high, and not in a position to strike troops or tanks." Mixed political reactions have greeted the airstrikes, in spite of greater unity on the part of NATO. A CBS News poll reported, before the airstrikes began that at least 3 7% of polled Americans supported military action . Furthermore , both Congress and the President generally support HAPPENINGS I THURSDAY Passover 6 ~ FRIDAY SATURDAY Happy Easter Lecture "From Discourses to Novels: Rousseau's Literary Tum" by Christopher Kelly, Dept. of Political Science, Boston College THE GADFLY - SUNDAY MONDAY Back to work! WEDNESDAY Recruiter from Walker Digital 4 pm Mellon Conference Room the actions. President Clinton described the Kosovo situation as a "conflict without borders" and expressed concerns that it could spread into neighboring countries like Greece and Turkey. He added "Kosovo is about ... people ... still killing each other out of primitive rages because they think what is different about them is more important that what they have in common." Congress examined proposals to send $25 million in military aid to the Kosovo Liberation Army. Furthermore, no government official has made a significant object to employing American ground forces. Other Americans criticized the President, and to a lesser extent, Congress, one editorial to the Washington Post accused President Clinton of delivering a simplistic message that both misled and confused. The writer bluntly stated "there is a guerrilla army of Kosovar Albanians who want independence and are willing to kill to achieve it. And there is a Serb army that wants to keep Kosovo in Yugoslavia . ..they are willing to kill for that." European reactions to the Kosovo situation appear equally mixed. The French government, surprisingly, contributed 40 aircraft to the strikes and plans on cooperating with NATO members. Many European . politicians expressed discontent at the lack of any unified European leadership in the current Balkan situation. Mark Eyskens, a former Belgian foreign minister, voiced his disgust, stating "Europe is an economic giant, a political dwarf, and a military worm." Other Europeans worry what effect casualties will have on the American public's desire to continue military activity in Yugoslavia. Finally, Serbians appear to have united against the U.S. A 36 year old engineer in Belgrade quipped, "[Before the bombing], I had a positive feeling about Americans. Now [look] at what they are doing to us.. .It's clear aggression ... " Zeliko Razanotovic, known as ''.Arkan," leads a Serbian paramilitary organization called the "Tigers." He raged at detained Western journalists that he was angry about the bombings and is ready "to kick some ass." announcements Political Forum Senior Oral Exams On April 7, at 8 pm in the Conversation Room, Anne Petermann, former President of Native Forest Network International and Held in the King William Room of the Barr-Buchanan Center current Director of NFN's Eastern North American Resource Center, will speak about trends in radical environmentalism includ- THURSDAY. APRIL 1 11:32 "Slim" Pickens Fat Birds Don't Fly: Newton's gravity as an obstacle to the equal rights movement Schoener/ Januszewski/Housley ing Revolutionary Ecology, the intersection of radical environmentalism and anarchist ideals. 3:57 Reverdy Johnson Obscurity in Post-Colonial Arch itecture F.L. Wright/P. Johnson/I. M. Pei Recruiter on Campus A recruiter from Walker Digital, an intellectual properties firm and inventors of Priceline.com, will be on campus on Wednesday, April 7, at 4 pm in the Mellon Conference Room. 5 :03 Samuel Adams Entelechy in the context of ethanol : Aristotle's On Drunkenness Killian/Daniels/Beam FRIDAY. APRIL 2 Tttf ~uzz 11:11 Echinus Blastopore On the necessity of the biological ontology of the hypostatic human Winken/Blinken/Nod SATURDAY. APRIL 3 I have nine tickets available to attend the Shakespeare Theatre's production of "The Trojan Women ." Director Jo Anne Akalaitis has just completed the New York run of "The Iphigenia Cycle," and promises to deliver what one reviewer described as "in your face Euripides" very visual, with loud sound effects and a soul-stirring underscore. The tickets are $14.00 a pop and the performance is Saturday, April 10 at 2:00 pm. The polity van will leave from the gym lot at 12:30 pm. To reserve a seat, drop cash or a check (made out to St. John's College) into campus mail to the attention of Student Activities/Taylor Waters. And another thing, from now on the polity van will meet its passengers on the other side of the gym lot, near the benches in front of the CarrollBarrister House. Why should you have to schlep your luggage over grass and gravel or risk snagging your pantyhose when 11:48 Patsy Klein Number theory in contemporary rustic composition Zuckerkandl/Twain/Ono 9:54 William Bard Who's Got a Bee in His Sonnet? : conflicting themes in Petrarch and Shakespeare Milton/ Jonson/Al ighieri SUNDAY. APRIL 4 12:45 Thomasina Aquinas The fundamental irrationality of divinity as seen through Wagner's Die Wa lkure DionysiusjTertullian/Mark 6 :66 Larry Brutus Out of the mouth of Hell: Oral imagery in Dante lscariot/Ugolino/Geryon there's a perfectly respectable spot for you to await the arrival of your driver? TW. APRIL 1. 1999 THE GADFLY - APRIL 1. 1999 7 _J �THE GADFLY St. john's College PO. Box 2800 Annapolis, MD 21404-2800 The j--ftra.st ro-;..ei. t ;" sei~.r~ ~q-Raaf~'#i+:ott a Ir ~+i sd "'y c.o 5., Oil'!'·· ltl'f Soc4c.s Cl(Oll'dill +o eqlot.lJid flly /11,.JrfJoitd (Q;•+.L ,,.~ ~. r,,. "'' ~e++o v1f'ift"' "~ h· Q.\+tt I I roi4 ilttf u. "'uwore. 8 ~ THEGADFLY-APRILl.1999 ,,... f I'te. Iv.id ~ i-o IMr;-u "' i ortt, p .J ~ ""'t +t~ r i.i,.,,_ f-o ~~t i t ;'5' tk, .fad ..L.+ ;t. '"' 1.h11il,re+twt~ � 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 Gadfly Description An account of the resource Founded in 1980, The Gadfly is a weekly student publication distributed to over 600 students, faculty, and staff of the Annapolis campus. Click on <a title="The Gadfly" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=16&sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&sort_dir=d">Items in the The Gadfly Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thegadfly Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 8 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anonymous Title A name given to the resource The Idfly, Vol "7 mL" Issue "Natural rights" Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1999-04-01 Description An account of the resource Special Aprils Fools Day issue of The Gadfly, entitled the Idfly. Published April 01, 1999. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Vol. 20 #22 Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Gadfly Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/31b5dfb5ce39e22d2861c0d799a0787a.pdf fb2ae5534cc7f9e3df8a6a6984492696 PDF Text Text ,~~~~~~~~~, j ! ~~, ~ �1966-67 * * * * * * * * E St .. s * * * ��be sure that I and I is �your fellow gymnast and most d Which is? remember, we statements with our search the THEAETETUS Yes, and the suitable one we established a ive statements and continued procedure reached our definition tell had ourse, imititor Theaetetus him somewhere within the THEAETETUS STRANGER we noted that it was precise he was so to track that while the see because ls the reason that t �3 region is so. bri.ght, the Sophist is difficult to see beca;use he takes refug·e in the darkness of not-being! 1 THEAETETUS: STRANGER: That is exactly what we said. And it . was at this point that we hit upon a· big obstacle .. THEAETETUS:" Which is? Oh, of course, you ·mean the ·u nderstanding of ·w~a·t ·r~f! 'meant by Reality and unreality. 'STRANGER'.: Precisely, :my · good friend, and atthough this proved to be quite puzzling, -we managed to force our way through the argument at hand and bring to light the existence of false statement and false judgement, thus proving imitations of real thing~ 2 possible which would account for the existence of an art of deception. THEAETETUS: Exactly. STRANGER: But I am afraid we can no longer ignore this (the of Reality) if we are to ascertain the Philosopher, for he in only one guise and there is cnly one way to find him. meani~g appear~ THEAETETIJS: I agree. STRANGER: Then let us try to get at the meaning· of Re.a li ty and 13 also at ~he 1 ~istinction the Friends of Forms make between 'Becoming' and 'Beipg', . because it is here that we will find our IJl&n ... THEAETETUS: I am very anxious to hear what we have to say. STRANGER: I am too, but we must riot let our anxiety get the best of us and cause hasty replies, for we are dealfng with fragile material. I am a bit apprehensive that perhaps our arrogant desire to learn the Truth at a11 ·costs will lead us to disaster as it· did Oedipus of Thebes and so many others who made good copy for the tragedians. But I am willing to continue, if you will endure to help me as you have. THEAETETUS: You can be sure I will for it is most ·important that we understand these'things and complete our job. STRANGER: Very· good. Now do you remember what we said earlier this afternoon about the distinction between 'B.f--:oming-, and· :.•Being'? THEAETETUS: Vaguely, but I do recall a little ·mor- clearly e something· Socrates said to me yesterday about this same subject. you like to hear what he had to say? STRANGER: I would indeed. Nould �all as who maintain these visible are the we call the Friends of Forms, who assert are c and cannot be perceived that must be perc the latter is the invisible forms and is virtual I think the distinction the scme we said earlier this you would we must c t made is more or ess what I THEAETETUS a THEAETETUS: is necessary it did as they are this in terms lines c ,.,. ....u..,,..... ,,... of the ment. this is one interior a transversal are less that side decided that it wil converge s converge more and more will eventual meet. world we could if we of the statewith convince tha �5 the 'Being 1 , the changeless, and the true philosophers must seek the Truth in that area~ 7 STRANGER: I think you have something there, Theaetetus, and I agree with you. I could never see ·how11fe could have true knowledge of something which is constantly changing, and now that you have given me an example of ·a sort of knowledge outside of our sensible world, I think you have convinced me. Yet, I don't think we are ready to agree completely with the Friends of Forms. THEAETETUd1 Why not? STRANGER: I think we agreed that they make a separation of the Ideal world of Forms from the T~ny changing things we detect with our senses. l~ have dealings with.~ecoming by means of the body through sense, and with Being by means of the soul through reflection. According to them, all Reality is changeless. But we objected that the perfectly real should not stand devoid of intelligence and hence , life and hence, soul, and that these things necessitate change. And it was here that we said, somewhat perp12~ed, that Reality is all that is u~changeable and all that changes . Do you think we can now make sense out of this statement? THEAETETUS: STRANGER: I think we can. Good, but why do you want to? THEAETETUS: Because the real ~~ the Truth, and I think it is a good hunch that the lover of wisdom will be found in this area. STRANGER: But is a man still a philosopher i£ while seeking the Truth, he is looking in the wrong places? THEAETETUS: What do you think? STRANGER: I am really not s ur e , but i f he is, the n I don't think our definition of Reality need be explained or understood any further. But perhaps we had better try to begin our definition of the Philosopher. leaving these questions temporarily unanswered. THEAETETUS: I agree. STRANGER: Let us begin as we did with the Sophist by asking whether he is a man having art or not having art . THEAETETUS: STRANGER: He is clearly a man of art. Would you call virtue an art? �6 THEAETETUS: I am not sure I understand -- the question as I should like. STRANGER: nell, we call medicine an art and we say the physician has art for he has studied the nature of ·the ·subject he treats and the cause of its actions and can giv~ a rational account of · ea~h of them~ 2 In a $imilar fashion the angler has ·art for he has learned the trade of angling and has thus become skilled in it. · Now does a virtuous man have art, I mean . a certain art that makes him virtuous? THPAETETUS: I don't think so, beca~~e I think men are virtuous by birth, not by any art they might acquire. STRANGER: THEAETETUS: STRANGER: THEAETETIJS: STRANGER: THEAETETUS: . ·TRANGER: THEAETETUS: STRANGER: nmAETETUS: Precisely, and would you call philosophy a virtue? I suppose so, .in c onfrast to an evil ~ 4 And the Philoso_pher a .v irtuous man? Yes, indeed. In all cases? Yes . Then would you call philosophy an art? No, it couldn't be. And wcnld you say the ·Philosopher possesses a special ·art? Of cc..urse not. STRANG.ER: Th2g if he does not have an art, he must either have a science or a nature that makes him-a philosopher. THEAETETUS: Yes , of course . STRANGER: Now I don't think we would say he has a science, because science implies a certain knowledge of something. THFAETETUS: I certainly would not, for the Philoso_pher claims that he knows n~thing, and he is never satisfied with what appears to be knowJedge. 6 STRANGER: Then we cannot deny that he has a certain nature that makes him a philosopher. THEAETETIJS: mean by nature. No, we cannot, if you will explain precisely _ what we �Ever theories ommon of asserts that in the universe to consist of fire that a 11 these The and ins of art. Art takes and from these models we ca 1 them a sense, what was there man is or evil coward that is nature all inherent characteristics and I here the we so. is essential clear is a at does THFAETETUS of course. STRANGER s inves TE5AET:STUS THEAETEnJS STRANGER is he this a c THEAETETUS those THEAETEnJS are inves sake and those �be said the t can .. the THEAETETUS must be the true none other have THEAETETUS man a true instinc where to look. Like the endless darkness to the see .. seeks once task the THEAETETUS ear a master of Dialec I that �Cii.'2•.,,...i~ .... to one genus and divides this division that rea whose natural is skilled seeks let THEAETETUS This �which Can you now define also the soul must be Cert a which in clearer terms? is all tha ike agree is �Cf art dee �c the Elea tics but Theaetetus, 152e. has of course tes the invisible the intercourse Cf iscussions are children can be virtuous, and the basis behind tha Socrates Meno an overs �If Plato were confrbnted with the obvious contradiction in his dialogues, he might have explained it by claiming two different types of virtue--manifest and latent. A man can be born virtuous by nature, but if he is latently virtuous, then he will only appear so if his virtue is brought out either by divine intervention or by a 'midwife' of virtue. If a man is evil by nature, he cannot become virtuous by any means. Part of Socrates' task is to bring out this latent virtue · from the boys with whom he discourses. 24. Is there any fault you can find with a pursuit (philosophy) which a man could not properly practice unless he were by nature of good memory, quick apprehension, magnificent, gracious, friendly, and akin to truth, justice, bra.v ery, and sobriety (Republic VI, 487a)? And from this source (sight) we have derived philosophy, than which no greater good ~ver was or will be given by gods to mortal man . (Timaeus, 47b). 25. ~VCl), nature, natural quality, condition, character, natural_ bent. 26. Cf. Republic V, 475c. 27. Cf. Timaeus, 53b; ,/ 28 ~ :r ~ X.-Y r[l d,artif icial. 29. Cf • . ~ X, 892c X, 889b. ' t ,/ From)\\t.}.-V7(, art, skill, craft. (meaning of nature). 30. I found this argument some\'rhat lacking until I accidentally came upon a passage in the Phaedrus which seems to clarify a good partion of the dialogue. Although the clarification comes in the form of a myth, I think we can, nonetheless, take it for what it is. Socrates relies on myths of the soul (cf. also Republic, Phaedo, Gorgias)tod often for us to consider them mere fable. From these myths we can detect a strong belief on Socrates' part in the immortality of the s~ul. "Reality lives without shape or colour, intangible, visible only to reason, ,the soul's pilot; and all true knowledg~ is knowledge of her." The soul beholds Reality~ "the real knowledge whose object is the truly existent,'' and can continue to do so ''until it is unable to keep up with the train and fai~s to catch sight of Reality." It is then the Law that such a soul be planted in a human being. ''Every human soul by reason of its nature has thus had a view of Reality .•. The one ·which has seen the most reality shal_l at birth enter into a future seeker.of wisdom." Phaedrus, 247 ff. From this we see that man is a future philosopher by nature of his soul; in other words, his profession is predetermined. When we consider that Socrates believes that the true Philosopher will aim at the whole truth from his earliest years (Republic VI, 485d) . it becomes clear that the Philosoprer is not a philosopher by any art or science, but by his nature. 31 It should be noted that the type of philosopher they are discussing is the true Philosopher who investigates alone. Although we refer to Socrates as a philosopher, he is only acting in his capacity as a philosopher when he is alone. There are two good examples of this philosophic contemplation in the Symposium, 175b, 220c. �discuss necessitate 34 35 discourse Phaedrus, as species that Plato He states that both that �A Spiritual Education ( or on fear and love of God ) by M~deline McDonald Introduction: The creation conti~ues. God never created a thing imperfect. Things which seem imperfect are simply not yet complete, for creation is by no means instantaneous. In the garden when man first knew of God, man's crea tion had just begun: he was ~n infant. Man had to grow up and return to God his Father, because his childlike familiarity with the Father was insufficient for the understanding--the true kriowledge--of God. Thus man had to fall away to explore the Wilderness inside himself in order that someday he might obtain his childlike state again, but with awareness. In this sense man creates himself, for it is his own struggle as well as God's to complete the creation or be created. God, through Christ, taught man that when he had returned and understood himself, he then shared God!s company again, for he would know that he is part of God, and that his spirit has the· form of the Holy Spirit, and that his body is the body of Christ. He would be complete. This is what man learns in a spiritual education, and what he could not . have known before in the Garden . This journey or exploration of the Wilderness is the motion of God's creation. God remains the same forever, but from points along this journey, man understands God differently. It is man who changes--man's understanding of God that. alters. Nhen man has come to rest,. being with God, his understanding is complete, his creation is done, and change ceases. But it is this motion, developing in the testaments of the Bible as the shaping of an individual soul which I shall explore. The movement from the Old Testament through the New Testament is man's shift from fear of God to love of God. This change is neither sudden nor total, but it is there, consti.t uting a vital part of tnan's understanding. The shift materializes in Christ and is immortalized in his reserrection. Since the essence of the developement of man's conception of God rests in man's relationship to God, it would seem fruitful '. to examine those very instances in which God and man confront and deal with each other. The first example of this is in Genesis 3: 16-20 in Eden as God expels Adam and Eve. To Eve God says: "I will greatly multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain shall you bring forth children, yet your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you." Now that Adam and Eve were like God and the angels, knowing Good and Evil, they would have to understand what it meant to create. The fruits of the tree of which they ate were integrated with their creation, which was just beginning. The obvious feature of the curse came true. The women of the Old Testament (Sarah, Rachel, etc.) had great problems with birth. They were not always �16 • able to have even one child, and when they did bear offspring, it was only after long waiting and much faith. Likewise, every kind of producing and creating became extremely difficult. It seems that the things now desired could never be obtained in oneness as in the Garden where all were in harmony. Now the thing desired was not only out of reach, h ~t had dominion over the desirer. There could be only terrible pain resulting from such srustrated want out of which is the child. Ideas-children of the mind--are described by Socrates with the midwife metaphor in the Theatetus as equally painful to bring forth. Through ages of such pain, one might well appreciate the simple original blessing "multiply and be fruitful", and come to understand what was lost, then regaining it. This was a cursed but singular way man might value creation since he had some knowledge of Good and Evil. To Adam God said: "Because you have .listened to the voice of your wife, and have eaten of the tree of which I commanded you 'you shall not eat of it', cursed is the ground because of you; in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life, thorns and thistles it shall bring forth to you;· and you shall eat the plants of the field. In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread till you return to the ground for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return." God states very clearly the difference between man and Himself. Man shall return to dust because he is but dust. The substance from whic h man was made has been cursed, and man must return to that substance as it is now cursed. The estrangement is painfully obvious to Adam, and man fears God for the first time. All his work shall be but thistles and thorns. As Emerson has put it in his essay on selfreliance, " ••• though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given to him to till.'' Adam's curse is much the same as Eve's, filled with frustration and uncertainty. Their one course of action is their only deliverance, but it does not necessarily 'd eliver. The first child of Adam and Eve is Cain, tiller of the ground, and testimony of the curse. Nhat he brings forth from the ground is not accepted by God (Gen. 4:5) and Cain, killing his brother, brings but pain to his parents who brought him forth. God had said to man upon making him, "Fill the earth and subdue it, and have dominion over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves u~on the earth." To Cain God had said, "Sin is couching at your door ; its desire is for you, but you must master it.'' However, according to the curse upon his parents, Cain failed to master sin, and became its servant. *1ike a living animal �17 In Genesis we see man jolted out of a harmonious world and faced with the problems of the earth, much the same as a child torn from the womb into the harsh and noisy worl,.d with whic:h he must soon cope. Murder is, naturally, a bad start, but later, as .we mught expect, there are other men who better understand the words of God. Things we do r.o~ understand we generally fear, and the fear engendered in man at this point occurs because man's comprehension of God is embryonic. God, however, is no more trying to hurt man than a mother wishes to hurt her child when she bears him. Yet .the child must still be expelled from the womb in order to be born, just as man must be expelled from Eden. That is a major part of the birth. Future pain and stdfe are predominant in the :· expulsion, for man is setting about learning. and nothing can make us .so aware as pain can. That man fears God is perhaps unfortunate, bu.t inescapable, for he cannot understand. · Let us look at Abraham. Here we see the making of a co enant, which by definition is ''a ·binding and solemn agreement made between two individuals or parties." God and man are agreeing on something, which is one very positive step in the spiritual progression towards God. There is not yet ''Law", but God singles out Abraham, commands, and instructs him to do His will. In Genesis 20:11 A~raham has told ' Abimalech that Sarah is his sister rather than his wife f~t fe~r that · his life be taken for desire of Sarah who was once v~ry beautifui ·and who is still evidently very desirous. W hen the truth ·of the matter (that Sarah is Abraham's wife) becomes apparent, as God teveais it ·to Abimalech in a dream, Abraham is confronted and asked," hThat were you thinking?" to which Abraham replies, 0 There ·is no fear of God at all in this place, and they will kill me because of my wife." According to the next scene in the mountains of Moriah for which Abraham is famous, an angel points out that he himself is ·a truly God~fearing man. And yet this God-fearing man allows his wife to suffer adultery. Nevertheless, that adultery take place seems inevitable: whether Abraham says Sarah is his sister or not, she will still be taken. If he says she is his*wife, not only wili she be taken, but also will Abraham be killed. Abraham's choice is a dilemma -- the lesser of two evils -- and the first instance in the Bible in which the distinction between the sin of omission and the .sin of commision is delineated. Abraham was told by God to travel into this country, and he did not give up and refuse to obey at .the .f irst and recurrent problem. Instead, he dealt with it as best he could, trusting the rest to God. Abraham thought i t better that he live and his wife be taken than he die and his wife be taken. He did not really commit any sin, merely omit a possibly greater one. (As 'Abraham mentions, he was not •ctually lying: Sarah happened to be his half sister.) Also, God gave Abraham no indication that he had acted wrongly, for the same incident occurred twice. On both occasions God interceded for Abraham as he had trusted God to do, so that both the Pharo and Abimalech restored Sarah , along with gifts. A great deal of ration.a~ization seems to exist here, hut one wonders just what else Abraham was to do without childishly (and almost angrily) placing the entire · ~atter in God's hands, * It is true that the only reason why they would kill a man for his wife is that most men would not even when faced with ~eath permit their wives to be taken, as would be the case with Abraham. Not ac~ively would he let her be taken, only passively as he did. �senses because he does Himse to Abraham "know" made it Abraham Abraham in posit instance and Issac his Son God the New Testament. similarities to the wood of the burnt own cross land of Moriah is Jerusalem. Issac for cover me grown he is born his mother are ivided; the elder shall serve the younger than the other Jacob is the Esau Esau is a l:fuen God blesses the latter nature power, he is man with the characteristics S ig nature The lord is a �that means the first time Jacob prays think of no way to combat such trick he prepares himself acate seem to have but After Jacob's prayer God does a and Jae prevails Jae is torn between and prayer he says father Issac and s didst sa descendants as the sand the unnecessary t means �the tent, an "when Moses entered the at of to Moses. Thus the ��22 atonement and forgiveness whereby the community is restored to its wholeness and reconciled to Him. In Leviticus we find very carefully described the burnt offering , the cereal offering, th~ peace offerin~ . the sin offering ~ the guilt offering. Man is asked by these acts ~1f oblation to decide within himself how he has sinned if Pe has sinned. He is asked to put himself on the c.~~ss, which requires honesty with oneself, and honesty with God . In fine one is asked to summon humility of the heart: "If they confess their iniquity and the iniquity of their fathers in their treachery which they committed against me, and also in walking contrary to me, so that I walked contrary· to them and brought them into the land of their enemies; if then their uncircumcised heart is humbled, and they make amends for their iniquity; then I will remember my covenant with Jacob .•• '' (Leviticus 26:40) Generations later we see that it is this very humility of the heart that Job does not possess. Job has lived a life according to the commandments of God, done all those things required of him, and in that he questions why evil plights are then suddenly brought upon him, he lacks humility . It does not seem, however, that Job is being punished for lack of humility which he did not lack until he was punished. Rather, Job's condition exemplifies another step in the spirit's growth toward God. Job is expected to question God's equity and per fection. He must in order to discover that God is perfect . and not one to be questioned. It is not enough that a man be good and right eous; he must also be wise. In this wise it was necessary t}:"lat Job be pushed beyond the extremities of his comprehension , because he thought that he could comprehend God's ways, and he had to be s}:"lown that he could not. Job was shown that good people are not necessarily rewarded nor the wicked necessarily punished--that God's justice is not subject to human reason. Job's fault was in thinking tPat because he was a good person no evil should come to him. So for the first time man questions God's very motives. Man heretofore had questioned God's actions~had begged Him to be compassionate with cl earl y punishable people--but no man had demanded to know why he received a certain fate. No one had ever felt Godts actions or motives unreasonable. No man had condemned God that he himself might be justified. (Job 40: 8) V see the same neces•ity for condemning fe God in ~hristTs crucifixion. Christ was condemned and crucified that man might be justified. If no one had condemned Christ, He never would have been resurrected, and so man could not have been either. But that was not the will of God, and likewise was it not the will of God that Job remain in ignorance of the complete incomprehensibility and omniscience of His ways. This is how we may understand Job's condemnation of God as being a step forward. Directly, it is a preparation for Christ's advent. Christ is as close as God and man can ever come to each other: identity. Being both God and man at once, Christ says and shows that �23 it is godly to be perfectly manly, for he· is perfect man who is also God. For the past ages recorded in the Old Testament God ~as prepared man for the immortality and completion that is now accessible t.o Hm. '.T he past lffe of an individual spirit has been shaped to be reborn. Man now has a concept' of what it means to , be part of ;God's creation: Crrist is begott.en Son and created man. This puts the kingdom of heaven eternally in t~e midst of us, leaving·man the choice to enter 'it at any ti~e if h~ but realize that it is there (or here). That realizaiion may come to an individual by dev~loping the spiritual education outlined in the relationships contained in the Old Testamen~ with their fulfillmeni in the NeJyestament. · This outline . seems as well to be ;one that every spirit among mankind may follow. We see the birth, the acceptance of life, fear, an interim of doubt and question, the darkness of the soul, and a rebirth which produces conviction and love or charity. Christ embodies this rebirth, since we are told in the New Testament that one must be childlike again, innocent and unafraid, yet with the original potential faith now formed to enter the kingdom of heaven, which :hrist makes possible. Let us now see how Christ made that possible and what this might mean. Insofar as every human being has a tendency to worship something, we might say that this love of the divine--this formless faith--is present by nature in man. This is the status of the faith of a child, and of a spiritual child. Formless fa ith has in it the potential to produce the greatest of saints, yet for the products of this faith to manifest themselves the faith must be formed. Unformed faith is a feeling or sense of God, whereas formed faith is the knowledge of God which occurs when God has spoken to the faithful one, and has moved him with the Holy Spirit. Accordingly our faith is formed by speech and emotion, and is thus expressive and moving: faith of the spirit defined by the Word. It is said in the beginning of John's gospel that Christ is the Word of God , so that with the addition of the word--the faith of the mind added to faith of the heart--which is the bodily form of ttie faith, we are said to be part of the body of Christ. This process intimately involves tP-e education of the spirit, for it is the process by which the spirit takes shape in us and we in it. Now it was not possible for man to be part of the spiritual body of Christ until Christ came, bound to both man and God. Thus when Christ took all men's sins upon himself and crucified them with his manly body, he no longer had a living body, but an everlasting body, which partook of no sin but only of the form of the Holy Spirit. And his love of man, immortalized in his crucifixion, made possible his return to his seat at the right hand of God the Father. When Christ brought his "Grace and Truth" which is God's love for man, he made it unnecessary that man be crucified and suffer death in order to be reborn. Christ did this upon the cross once for all men, though they remained alive in their physical bodies as well as in the spiritual body of Christ. As the Word, the spiritual body of Christ, the form of man's faith, returned to the Father after dying for us, man was left inexorably bound to God, thus all being sons of God. Previously, man had to C1'tlcify himself under the burdens of the Old Law for the guilt of his sins, and the Law made provision for this in the acts of contrition before mentioned. Th~ Old Law never permitted the freedom and love that Christ offers, for fear predominated man's spirit, yet it foretold of the crucifixion of a divine nature by causing us to crucify ourselves with guilt and to sacrifice part of ourselves and try again. No~ if the purpo$e of sin is to bring about guilt, and through our suffering a~d subsequent repentance a greater understanding of·' goodness, then ·chr is t, in bearing our sins and self-suffering for us, took away the form and purpose of sin, every day �makes us his He rebears us sinless and innoc new state of innocence and our bodies his words. Christ of heaven and in a realized one. He makes us us the realiza tha this sense is called the at any The Word may be reborn into the which It was evoked, and travels back to the love le is likewise the indireturns to Chris t we may be reborn many vidual c out ever of man .. the fact that Christ does take away our sins and that this is the that eaves us innocent is not believed, clear Christ does not die those of us �LEIBNIZ' DOCTRINE OF SUBSTANCE by Harold A• . Himwich Leibniz' system contains so many remote novelties which seem to bear no connection to one another that it is difficult to know which of his doctrines are the most .,f undamental and hence the most > worthy of study and which are only consequences of the former. So viewed, his system appears to be an impregnable f<;>~. tress into which the ·attacker can hope to go only by the discovery of some seq:et .passage.· In seeking ;this entrance, the possibility of success is given over .e ntirely to . chance~· Although the goal may eventually be obtained in this manner, . it would seem more prudent to make an entrance instead .of seeking one so that success will be assured. Care, however, must be taken not to do violence to the system since possession, not destruction, is the aim. Possession is assur~d if one forsakes the view of the system and investigates only the grounds on which it is built. With an understanding of the foundation, the r~st of the system should, if ·it is truly~ system, follow as a consequence. The problem, therefore, is to determine precisely what this foundation is. Unfortunately, this problem cannot be considered ·as solved until the entire system is shown to rest on whatever is claimed to be the foundation. This paper cannot accomplish such a· great task. Its object will be simply to make a guess at what the basis of l.eibniz' system is, investigate its nature, and finally to give the guess a semblance of likelihood. The true .b eginning of Leibniz' system is that which embodies the first principles and highest causes of the world or of being in genera 1. Not even Leibniz, however, has immediate access to these principles and causes. Belonging to the world, he is surrounded by the results of the things he seeks. The discovery of them rests entirely on a careful study of the nature of being. And if they are to be discovered at a11; this study must at least show .that beings are caused. Even if being does not show itself to be caused , Leil;miz is constrained to begin with it. Hence, i t will be no ·surprise if the s~udy of being reveals the foundations of his . system. Leibniz sets out to study being with the assumption that all true predication is founded on the nature of things. In other words, a true proposition with a subject and ; predicate gives a reflection of what the nature of things is. For example, the proposition, ''Kings are men," reflects that a certain predicate, 'men', belongs to a certain subject~ 'kings•. It is true because . the notion of king contains in itself . the predicate man as a whole contains a part. l.eibniz gives to this kind of proposition the name, tnecessary', since its contrary implies contradicti6n . Its saliedt feature is that i t .relates two attributes.· and hence no assertion of existence needs to be ma(l,e ..in claiming its truth. The necessary proposition is, however, but one of .two kinds of true predications. �The since without Alexander s lexander since there is in the mines his existence and hence the c without contradiction In general, c of f ac be otherwise so is The since all of this substance assertions statements re s some externa the more fruitful the two kinds an individua substance or to its nominal definit an are ass whic else. Since all statements c assertions of existence and those are all much more substances, fol for it is the nature a substance but the state of ate since it is words, the very notion involves can be es theresubs ta nc e cannot be created substances may be ther its existence and very least, it may be said that a substance which persists and is in fact a Statements c an assertion substance that of A covery of substance as c that i t states arrive tions In the case of necessary statements it was out that a necessary ate was in the notion of the t.. This connection way substances so tha the be in the of the The fact makes it icate is ever a is, because dicate of that Similar a 1 other states qua a the same contained in him as a s t so that Alexander are of The notion of Alexander that to these However, is �27 predicates must have a certain order. For example, the Alexander who first dies and then conquers Darius is not the same Alexander who has those predicates in the reverse order. From this example it is also clear that without a certain order the deduction of all the predicates that a substance has would be impossible. The predicates of a subject must, therefore, be conn~~ted in a certain fashion so that all the predicates can be deduced in their proper order. Because of this sequence, a substance may be defined as that which has a notion complete enough to suffice for the deduction of all the predicates of the substance to which · the notion is attributed. It. is clear that the nominal definition follows from this, for the notion of a given predicate does not give any grounds for attributing it to a certain subject ·a nd this attribution to a subject would be a predicate of .the subject which could be furtrer predicated of something else. This new definition, in addition to u~holding the old, has the singular virtue of necessitating a hypothesis of internal force to account for the changes that a substance undergoes. Although it appears less con~rived to say that the reasons for a substance's changes are external, it is an ultimately untenable hypothesis. One would either have to maintain that one predicate was the cause of another which is not at all understandable, or one would have to posit some entity between two substances which al though not a substance would have so·me claim to being. This view would utterly destroy the doctrine that.Leibniz has developed on his assumption of true predication. He bases all being on this doctrine and to admit a real causal connection between substances or their states would be to undermine that doctrine since true ptopositions expressing this relation would not be predications. No greater disaster could befall Leibniz' system. Now only the inside of a substance need~ to be investigated to find what the force that accounts for change is. Knowing that a substance is a subject of change and that i t has its predicates in a certain sequence, force must involve the connection between the predica~es. The changing predicates themselves cann,o t account for cha·nge for then the :awk~ard question of how a predicate can cau~e another w6uld again arise. It is in the nature of substance that a principle of change must reside. However, it would be a mistake to identify the force with the substance itself for whether the force be held constant or variable it is clear that a particular force of a substance must b~ · an attribute of a substance. Force, in other words, is that which characterizes substance without being substance itself. Force is that quality of a substance which determines the relationship of two predicates. It is not simply this relationship but rather the connection of the relationship. Thus force is neither the predi'c ate that will be nor t .he predicate that is; it is what ., is in between them. For this reason, force can only be reckoned by considering the predicates it determines which is another way of saying that it can only be measured by its future effects. The force being determined, however, a sufficient reason for change is provided. This is clear in the case of the human soul for which the force is the desire for the apparent good. The antecedent state would be whatever state belongs to the soul, and the succeeding state would be the perceived apparent good or an attainment of some degree of it. As a sufficient reason, then, force provides that a change occurs, determines precisely what the change is, and finally states why the change occurs. · · �Just as the definit sitate the doctrine to another tained in the second. substances a contradiction Because number the firs respect to is a blatant contradic from every other esis id en tic ates c ~'" identical arises on account of the assumand dist inc at 1 east with to with the first ich substance be distin- In what has in general have been shown of of substances It has parts, that the and destruction divis nontheless have tes, that that determine the sequence te s it and that each one is from every other substance. It is now claimed tha this doctrine of substance which the are parts is the basis Leibniz' in tif ied the fact that the here discussed virtua make the first For this reason and the fac that as a led to with to realm of the guess I wish discuss two consequences is a which Leibniz into service after centuries which is interes in view of Leibniz s The other is a consequence which Leibniz not admit and which tends to des reminiscence. There is since the human soul is exists but also of what cannot then the substance would be Leibniz denies a rea causal connection between the and the ts themselves. However, because of his notion a substance, he is able to maintain that the ts are known. Unfettered this doctrine substance able to reverse this position and maintain that a ts are the cause the ts remain unknown. Fina there remains a stance that makes it ible Leibniz~ definition of subdisc �29 that the +-ion stance is to exist there must be some existence This causa sequence cannot infinite regress result and necessary to posit to an end ,.,..,.,,.. 0 .... since tht:·1 would exist It is so tha sequence is the makes the The has removed a individua discovery of the c use of which cannot theoretica ��l2 s is of this sort second alternative as a ome this could mean. The first alternative therethe i ts elf which is found restate the ques an extrinsic in some way into a and ordered universe but which is somehow out of e which causes evil? We seek an ient or a final cause. the heart unnatural would have to admit cult to understand wha A response in terms of an discussion man's nature as it cussion will have encompass the character s exc ient cause can in the This dislook on nature and a discussion is ca led From the characters in there emerges a consistent at firs e seems itself a nature and man's nature is of nature This sense, for some Hence we the awesome division Lear and to no other pers'On, for is While this may Goneril or to s ethics in the way that mants nature is meant to be The is he cannot be another member of It is responsible for and what dictates his ica and hence may appropriate be ca his materia In that a nature does not man exis ritical that is necesYet, we know from is natural materia desires. Such a of man's nature if this were nature be similar to Hobbes view of man in the state nature and identical with Edmund's view of man in relation to Nature Nature sanctions the s and crushes the weak Her ca and a iance is to the naked and this nature is responsible eful desires as unburdened crawl towards death"? i How this material nature is to be There are hordes of references in with the beast and al these references cruel, savage and able The very fact, however, that this materia nature is looked upon with such disdain does not that it is opto what man's nature should be or equa to real is rather that be controlled mants nature �33 This other nature is a result of a growth on man's part of a feeling of otherness. While it is difficult to characterize precisely what this feeling is or why .i t is felt, its manifestation is· · that man does certain things that repudiate his primal animal nat\,lre. Given his animal nature, man as animal would form associations with other men only insofar as he is motivat~d by physical considerations, '· i.e. ·wolves. gathe·r ·in packs to hunt. Given this other na tur;e, man forms associations with · ·o~ther men from pure 1 y human cons idera t ions.· ·He creates, socializes, organizes, etc. We may therefore say that he does have a. nature that distinguishes hiilr from the beast - a human, social or spiritua~ nature which leads _him to react to both what he himself is and to Nature. This =reaction, to a · large extent, is contr~ry to, or at least other than Nature; tbat is, man through his nature becom~s other than >what he is. In order for him to function properly or for him to be proper~y called 'Man' it is necessary for him to be cognizant of both th~se natures. If he is not, or if he thinks of himself in terms of the·one and not the other, he cannot . be said to know himself and may actually become other than what re is.. His fault consequently abides in some internal · confradiction in which be· app•ars to himself consistently in a certain way; an internal contradiction resulting from giving a thing (like himself) an improper name or, not k_ owing an object n before a name is applied to it. The cause of evil is not therefore in the character's nature -but in his understanding of it. The caµse of evil i~ blindness or ignorance or error which participates in non-being. We shall now have· to see whether such ·a conclusion which has in a way been applied to the tragedy from the outside is really justified. In order to see this, we shall apply the conclusion to some of the individual characters so that we may see what the particular ignorance or erro~ is in each case that causes evil. This discussion shall then reveal the larger th~me of causality and its relation to the ·tragedy as a whole. I. In the very first iScene, Kirig Lear expresses the mater~al desire to "unburdened cr~awl towards'- death". This desire he hopes to {ulfill by dividing the kingdom in three portions and bequeathing to his youngest and most beloved daughter Cordelia / t , e most opulent . third. It is clear_ a posteriori h that the only way for "future strife to be prevented" is if Cordelia and her would-be-husband, the Prince of Burgundy, alone manage ."the sway, revenue, execution of the rest" of the' kingdom, rulihg in Lear's name and hence having him fetain his authority. This I imagine · ": to have been Lear •s original plan, although never explicitly stated. The 'love test' (I,i,48-53) is the tirst indication of an in~erna~ ~~n tradiction in King Lear. He does not consider his demand an unnatural one, and thereby indicates that he does not in practice distinguish between the king and the father. Lear imagines himself, in other words, to be the father of the state or the king of the family. The state is simply a natural extension of the family, otherwise identical -with it except that it is larger. Now it is clear that this view is faulty but also clear that there had been no internal rebellion in the past to lead tear to ·suspect_ its validity. The parts of �ttered at this between in "fourscore and and to weed out the unnatural and has ends in The and ends are mind other Whereas moreover, the state is an is nature the is a combination both nature, the material and the social. When Cordelia is unable to a declaration of her Lear that she has acted that is that is as an animal, that is agains unkind that is; unnatura human nature and It is obvious that Lear believes the animal nature to man s human nature and indeed, contradic to it, and also obvious that he allows for no between them of course that the human or rationa rule the des Lear s proper names has been a be a status to the eg eg. He We have no is s I i our oath I i between that which is and that which seems i, He does not know the true nature of Cordelia s He does not dist~···--~·~·· state the hence, does and He does hence, alienates those 1fhile he himself is never characterized the course later becomes evident that if he is become a heal he must He will then be able to see that he is the concrete animal Lear, Lear s shadow staked on an ar has natura become Kent says Kill ic and fee bestow the foul disease Revoke Or whilst I can vent clamor from my throat, I 11 te thee dost evil. i the be �35 His reaction, while it. substantiate~ the above cone lus ion (Lear does evil to himself and others) is · also interesting in another respect. It sheds .l ight on how one rE?sponds "1ho knows precisely how evil is being done or how evil results from evil • . ·Kent spe.aks of" Goneril and Regan' as a disease; something .which arises and spreads when ~ system doet;; not function properly. He immediately realizes the danger that the king has placed himself and the state in. Kent's vision is keen and prophetic. He functions in this scene like Cassandra in the Agamemnon, as one who can only stand by horrified and watch evil being done. . . The second example is a much more difficult one_ One cannot be too confident in an analysis of Goneril and Regan because they never comment upon themselve·s and their actions as does Edmund. It is nevertheless certain that the final cause - ~f their actions is a desire for rulership of the kingdom. Included in this catagory is the _ desire for power, authority, supremacy, etc. They do at any rat.e present a consistent attitude towards King Lear . which may enable · us to point to their attitudes towards themselves. "He has vver but slenderly known himself" Regan says (I,i,292) during the early part of the tragedy, and Goneril later says (I,i,212) "Put away · these dispositions which of late t~ansport you from what you rightly are." Who this Lear is becomes ~vi dent t-brough·· Goneril 's frequent use o_ the word 'dotage' (I, iv, 284) (I, iv, 317) f (II, iv, 192) an_ through such statements as "the unrut y waywardness that infirm d and choler:i,c - y~ars bring with t~~em" (I, i, 297) and "Now by my life old fools are babes aga._i n :an~ must be used ~ith _cp3cks as flatteries ~hen they are seen abused." (I, iii, 20-) Lear is a poor, weak, ·infirm old animal who does not know his state and consequently should be governed by those who do. All his passions and affectations are -tQ b~ refe~red to physical ca.uses: ''Those that mingle reason with your passion must be content to think you are old and so" (II, iv, 229~) .Lear's . nature, his ~roper n~ture, is hi~ material nature. The only desire of his . that they grant is-ness to is that of crawling unburdened towards death. All his other de~ires (like that of maintaining his authority over his one hundred knights) are · u~natural, - i.e., not harmonious with his real desires. We can see that the King's social or human desires which are an expression of his human or social nature, they reject. To have such desires is · n~t to know yourself: Be then desir.ed By her that e~se will take the thin~~he begs A little to di~quantity your train, And the reminders· that shall still depend · To be such men as may besort your age, Which know themselves and you. (I,iv,237-) If this is a ~efinition of self- knowledge on their part , we must admit the foundation to be quite unsteady. If the definition is extended to all men, we must conclude that for all me~ to be wise they need only cater to their animal desire~. Ye t, if they only followed their a·n imal desires, how could _ they be properly called 'Men'' since they would be indistinguishab1 e from the beasts? Particularly if man's nature is his animal nature, we must as.sume �and wit all attributes that hea young animals This is indeed borne out Goneril especial her actions a disdain conventional She uses moral that weak mankind holds such inanities in esteem; lothes virtue and reason to fit her passion but when the clothes become c or are seen she is content to let what she thinks is her true nature, shine. Ace to the Law Nature, if an animal is he seeks in whatever way is most convenient and most easy. If c or seeks shel te:r.. This t understandable. '~111at is not understandable and what discloses an internal contradiction on their is that what is c alien to animal nature. The cause their actions seems to be in some way connected to their in a ion where can be Name-Givers a rl tion. If this is so, not are their desires and their die , but cannot, either their standards else's be said to know themselves What I am to illustrate wi become more Edmund The evil that Edmund does to others is as the result a power and supremac His his prospective evi should the maidenliest star in twinkled on This I take to mean, nature ' Edmund comment I am, had I ii the son, he imacy and Ace child is he who is inherit his father s estate As a custom Edmund "curios as a to one who admits in himse a human anima is not concerned with what it is called. Moreover, there indication that at any in the Gloucester and not Edmund. He most have had is material This does not is interes to humiliate himself a name the while bel that names do not accurate We conclude from these three to what it means to be a man about Other "base" na is have al tbe character s e lack , a more the that could be but I think that the �cone lus ions how the theme however is revealed in and examine any character in a disordered. This kind the itself confirm the the next section suffic ient that his soul was in some each character is the J:;Jrpose from within the IL and ident the to know and disorder is most should as a consciousness role he Like Tiresias in , he does not come wil are led to believe that he would, had he not been led life away Cordelia This one line "Since my young 's gone to is our first introduction to is and remember he is bitter We love the fool because he loves Lear to him a bitterness of method and a sweetness t of the fool s bitter-sweet qualities that cant and mysterious He obvious is not one is deficient ional court a both definitions his relations to says, the the fool s is "all-licenced" , the s bitter words. Observe Put away these Does any Lea which are me? .. who is it c tel Fool: Lear t The cause ness of aim be I~ar's teacher. It is his task to say absurdities in words means of puns: 1 as a or to br in general is He how names have been The fool is from a his theme; the reversal Lear s action divid a~~f~~~ �38 in half and ··then to the disruptive outcome of that action upon man, the state and the universe. The nature of things has been reversed. Everything is topsy-turvy. 'Nothing' is fulfilling its proper function. The fool's use of the word 'nothing' both explicitly and implicity points to one of the catagories of the theme of ignorance in the play, the power of nothing upon men's lives; the result of either improperly naming ~hings or of realizing something which does not ·yet have a ·name and thus is outside the order of things. The fool is concerned with demonstrating to Lear his (Lear's) own lack of knowledge of his relation to the universe and therefore, to himself~ He has little need of playing upon apparent absurdities i~ things which are known and properly named, but rather, must show the absurdities of things as they are: thou clovest thy crown . i' th' middle and gav'st away both parts, thou bor•st thine ass on thy back o'er the dirt. Thou hadst little wit in thy bald . crown when thou gav 1 st thy golden one away. (I,iv,152-1.56) ~!hen and, Thou mad'st thy daughters thy mothers. (I,iv,163) In doing this, the fool becomes a teacher, thereby symbolizing the ~ans mutation of that which usually ha·s. a certain name into that which properly has a different one. Of course, the teacher is still the fool and proceeds with his course in the ·way which he knows: he presents Lear with his own contradictory image, playing up the contradiction with puns on nothing: Fool: Lear: Fool: Fool: Fool: Can you make no use of nothing nuncle? Why, no, boy, nothing can be made of nothing. Prithee tell him, so much the rent of his land comes to; he will not believe a fool. (I,iv,124-128) Thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides and left nothing in the middle. Here comes one o' the parings. (I,iv,177-179) Now thou art an 0 without a figure. I am better than thou art now. I am a fool, thou art nothing. (I, iv, 183-185) The fact that the fool ~alls t.ear 'nothing' is quite striking. He implies by· this that the king wa~ .o; ce a king in name, and nothing more, n and that by giving the crown away he became what he always basically was: Lear: Fool: Dost thou call me . fool, boy? All thy other titles thou hast given away; that thou ~ast born with. (I,iv,141-142) Fool: How now nuncle? daughters. Why, my boy? and Lear: Would I had two coxcombs and two �39 Fool: If I gave them a.11 my living., : I'd keep my coxcombs myself. There's mine; beg . ariot~er ~!my daughters . . .(I.', iy~ '9 9-103) Le.; if I g:ave everything away, I'd be a fool a~.d ·w_o.tj;l~ need ·a coxcomb. · Your dau·thters win surely give you one since you now· .app. ar"a fool. e ,. The 'foo·1:~ in other ;Mords, says that Lear way · a'fw~:y·s ig'n or·a nt but never seemed to be so since he · never revealed his ig.n oranc·e ·to ·others. Through Lear's action of dividing the kingdom in half, he has finally revealed who he is and henc·e, not only .!! ·nothing, but seems to be nothing in his daughters• eyes. Again the lines: Lear: Fool: ~o is i t who can tell me - who I am? Lear's shadow. 1 can mean either of two things: 1) you are Lear's ihadow, or 2) Lear's -shadow can tell you who you are. In both cases, the fool implies· that the fool is the one who can tell Lear who he is. In t.h e first case , he leaves an u'nstated premise, that is, while I know that when you were a ki'ng you were a .king in name only, still, if you admit that yoµ are Lear's shadow, you will be able to recover your identity, and really be king, a·nd a man. The emphasis on who you are now - the shadow that is other than one • s true self - is important in leading one to reverse the role that he is unconsciously playing. In the second case, by saying that Lear's shadow (i.e., the fool) can tell you who you are, i.e., a fool or nothing, the fool implies that the Lear who is hidded beneath all his finery and self-deception will be haunted by his shadow until he comes to the light of the discovery of who he is. In either case, the discovery wi~l be bitter:· a The sweet and bitter fool ~il1 presently appear The one in motley here The other found out (i.e., revealed) there. · (I, iv, 137) a I have already mentioned that the fool does not communicate with Le. r effectively and would now like to expand upon the .reason for the lack of communication between .the two. It is not enough to say .that there is something in tear - call it pride or wh~tever you wish - that does ~ot give credance to the possibility of a wrong action on his part. The fool is, in these initial scenes, always treated by Lear. as a fool; one who absurdly attributes non-being to being, a court jester. The reason-Tor this treatment is · the reason for Lear's tragedy. He does not understand the fool's words because everything appears to him as it is named. Even his one line of rebuke to the fool, •Take heed, sirrah - the whip t (I,iv,104), after the fool ' s revealing statement, 'If I gave them all my living, I'd keep my coxcombs for myself. There's mine. Beg ariother of thy daughters~, illustrates that it is only a tine of rebuke and that he considers , the fool to have stepped bey.ond ~bounds granted him. Lear's own action of dividing the kingdom in half was, as he see· it, · justified, s sensible, and right. For to Lear, the king is lh~ measure rif •11 things, both of that which is and of that which is not. �pos names is necessary This role certain i t is :role where this grasp the i ad- an hundred when that would manage those man away I the above few sentences are a bit wish discussion to establish c the net that is a net in which a enmeshed and one the which is bound to be pa It exists because Lear atta the wisdom that is accompany reversed age. s statement c this shoulds is not have been ti hads been wise remind us of Goneril's: 'as you are and reverend should be wise is It is Lear comes to have a concern the of ten Lear s own, the latter comes to the same conclusion We cannot say that the is a movement His actua effect is to the audience and in which the takes and to which i t is to be referred ance. which the reveals its ture is the Out of the more than four hundred questions in the one hundred dea in some way with and This does not s mean that the asks a �41 expects to be enlightened by an answer. It does mean that the questions themselves seriously suggest an ignorance or confusion about what to call objects, how the universe is ordered, what the nature of .man is. All of Goneril 's and R~gan•s questions are on the other side of this·' division. They either show a confident expectation about what the answer is, or are merely rhetorical. I am not c·o ricerned with . these questions and mention them in passing o!tly to '·' ·' _:- point· out that. Goneril and Regan at no point in the tragedy succomb to a mode of .questioning that mlght reveal them to themselves .. 'the questions that clearl'y de.n ote an ignot-ance on the speaker's part are, in · the .main, :seemingly · innocent ·ques·tfons about· identity and knowledge: 1) rs· this nbt your · son, my lord? (I,i,7) 2) ·Do y'ou know. this ' nobl~ gentleman Edmund? (I, i, 23) 3) Dost thou know me, fellow? (I,iv,25) 4)'~fllat dost thou know me for? (II,ii,12) S) Is it not the ki~g? (IVivi,106) 6) Is your "name Goneril? (III, vi;49) 7) Your name, fair gentlewoman? (I, iv, 226) 8) Are you our daughter? (I,iv,269) 9) I am king; masters, know you that? (IV,vi,196) 10) Sir, do you know me? (IV,vii,48) 11) What art thou that dost grumble there i' the straw? (III , iv,43) 12) Is man no more than this? (III,iv,97) The list could be easily extended. In some of these .cases, answer~ could be and are simply given. As the tragedy progresses, however, : these ini~~al answers are themselves thrown into question. Gloucester would be reluctant to repeat his jovial response to 1), ('His breeding sir hast been in my ch~rge. I have so often blushed to acknowledge him that no~ I am btazed t~· it~') Kent would have to go into a lengthy explanation of why he pretended ignorance in 3), and all the seemingly uncomplicated questions would invoive in~ricate · responses . Lear demonstrates that he can only stand helpless before the questions that he gives birth to, (7 and 8) .. How is he to answer these questions, answers '. which, prior to his discovery of his daughters• cruelty, he took for granted? Questions such as these can only be asked in certain situations which themselves imitate the fool's conclusion that the order of the universe has been reversed. What is the importance of such questions? How are we to understand them? All of these questions we must, I think, take as a manifestation of the problem of naming objects. Lear, the man who •puts · himself and ·His soul under the control of names' (Cratylus, 440C, 1.4-) is now ;confronted by '. 'the fact that he does nof .· have a name for the object that he sees before him. · _ jn8tead of questioning .his system which yielded seemingly appropriate names for objects, he names these objects nothing ('Beloved Pegan, thy · s,ister's naught.·t II, i v , 129) which is in effect the same thing . as saying, 'I' ·no longer know what to call this thing.' The name which generally serves the purpose of making two things commensurate has been drained of its signification. A clear, remarkable and paradigm example of the confusion as to how to name objects occurs during the storm scene: �Kent: Lear: Kent: Glou: How grac What seek? 's there? What is What are you there? Your names? tunate in a It is characters are who to come upon them out assimilated into the 111 ..... 120 II we read the we notice the were spectators or if we were not be rationalized instances such as this one the unders sented with two as shown failure name The storm scene is a the cause result which we reaction , and evi . to one another, and is all These two kinds of situation mind the cause man, we see evil and we understand this interna contradiction or mentioned in that are called be a V.11en we hear we visualize chaos. We understand the reasons the questions are asked. Yet we nevertheless understand tha there external c This external conflic lso has is cause in two of these characters discussed natural reac the names that and behind these names In Goneril and could cause to this in no K Lear's their demonstrated nevertheless scene knew that were anc e in these in some form which his It became the kind s case We we know the initial evil and there- the mind to take man's mind in a causal sequence the question that is raised in the and the illustrat and the situation �43 in which' i t is;' possible 'for such a question to be raised, that the Lear Universe is ·one which is systematically turning itself upside-down; a universe ,. in which· the why's ·of this · reversal are perfectly intelligible. In connection with this point, a .few more examples might prove worthwhile. Consider Kent (or Edgar). Lear gave Kent a name at the commenc ... ment of the tragedy (miscreant or recreant, whichever you prefer) which fit Kent in Lear's erroneous system. We know that this name-givin. was, as far as the king g was concerned, most necessary, since Kent set himself up in opposition to the king's will. Had Lear known that his system was erroneous, the name would not have been given and Kent would not hsve been banished. As a result of this banishment, Kent is forced to become - or to seem to be - other than what he is if he is to remain in the state and prove useful to the king. He ·must assume a disguise in order that he may in reality retain his identity. Here we have one nothing delicately balanced by an'Otiier nothing. We know the causes of the reversal and we know that the reversal fits into an orderly, and we might even say necessary, chain. Edgar's change of identity can be interpreted in the same fashion allowing for a few deviations. An excellent example from Nature arises if we consider Gloucester's speech: ''These late eclipses of the sun and moon portend no good to us. Though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourged by the sequent effects." Gloucester has assigned a causal relationship to the eclipses and their unnatural effects upon man: "Love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide .• and the bond cracked 'twixt son and father." While we cannot take the play in any sense to be an argument for astrology, the curious thing about t~ speech .is that it is literally borne out in the sequent scenes; unnatural effects indeed are scourging nature. The speech sets the stage for the universal chaotic harmony revealed in the play . It brings to mind a relationship between the occurrences in Nature and the occurrences in man, and thus foreshadows the storm scene in which the storm in Lear and Nature correspond so closely that we cannot avoid relating the two. The effects that scourge nature can be thought of as an analagous situation to the absurd conclusion that one arrives at in a reductio proof. We notice two things after the proof has been gone through: first, that there is an apparent conflict between the conclusion and the premise and second, that at least one of the premises must be discarded. In like manner , the situation which arises in nature is in no way in conflict with natural principles (''the wisdom of nature") except by producing discordant effects. In both instances, a battle must ensue between the inferior premises in order for the natural principles to be firmly established. The result of the battle in the second case (and perhaps figuratively in the first) is thunder, which we view on the one hand as a natural effect due to a natural cause, and on the other, as a violent disruption in nature. As a consequence of this discussion, we must ask the question where the cause which is implicitly in conflict with the universal or primary causes (natural principles) ·comes from, since we ·take it for granted that there cannot be any conflict, whatever its nature, among the first causes of nature. The analogy with the reductio proof is of no assistance here, since in the case of the reductio the false supposition is entirely extrinsix. (It in no way springs from the postulates, etc.)· �44 The answer I think, is found in the analogy with the mind. When we asked "What is the cause of ignor~nce which is the cause of evil?" in all cases we discovered not only ignorance but an internal conflict in the mind of the evil person,. We now can ask why this conflict is not resolved and how it is possible for an internal contradiction to exist in the ·mind. A satisfactory interpretation is that the mind appears to be at least r3.rtly composed of a sluggish and material nature. Things take place in it in time, not immediately. Thus we said previously that the cause of ignorance is this sluggishness of the mind which resists being informed by truth. It is possible to interpret nature in the same way. We assume the existence of a sluggish substance underlying all the forms that we perceive, and on which the causes act. It is therefore possible that a thing which has not been perfectly informed will begin to act. Since the thing itself is not entirely an expression of its cause, its effect will not entirely be an expression of the first causes, Hence we have the introduction of something seemingly foreign to the system of nature which nonetheless, remains perfectly orderly. It therefore appears that not only is it a serious error to dismiss the question of efficient causes in a consideration of King Lear, but also, that it would not be stretching the point to say thart'he-central theme of the tragedy is the relationship of causality and good and evil. The first three acts of the tragedy have yielded a complex but unified picture of the Cosmos into which even the greatest disorders fit in an orderly manner. The complexity arises in part because of the triune nature of this Cosmos. There is the "little world of man" (III, i, 10), the world of man's society, and the natural world - the Cosmos proper. Each of these can be considered to some extent a causal system in itself. Each contains elements and functions which are precisely analagous to the other two and to the whole. It is also apparent however, that the three form a causal chain in which no part can remain unaffected by the others. Shakespeare has brought out the Cosmos of man by means of the fool, the Cosmos of society through the many changes of roles and the asking of questions, and the Cosmos of nature by means of Gloucester's attitudes and the storm scene. The picture seems so complete that we are led to wonder how the final acts could accomplish any more than simply to present the necessary resolution of the conflicts. Although this does in fact occur, we cannot help feeling that there is more to it than that. To show that this feeling is justified and that the causal universe undergoes a curious metamorphosis, is the task of the next sect{on. v. The biggest problem that the final acts of King Lear give us is the feeling we have of the monstrosity of the death of Cordelia, in spite of our being a\·Jare that it fits into the causal chain of the universe and is therefore necessary. The causes are so trivial as to make us wonder whether, after all, causes have any real importance. Why, we ask, did Shakespeare have Cordelia die because 1) Edgar talked too much 2) Albany and he were forgetful 3) Edmund decided to do some good a few seconds too �45 late? If we assented to the causality at every moment, why should such violent reactions of horror and incredulity be elicited by Cordelia's death? Why do we in fact feel that the death is senseless and unfair? If cause and effect relationships are necessary to the play, are they sufficient? I do not think that they are. I propose that Shakespeare pur~o~ely presents us with an antinomy in King Lear which can be represented by the two sides: 1) Thesis - good and evr:t9of actions are subject to efficient causes. 2) Antithesis - good and evil of actions are not subject to efficient causes. On the first side, we have presented the argument that evil is the result of ignorance which is the result of natural resistance of the mind to be informed by truth. Good, we implied, is the opposite; the result of harmony of the soul, a realization of one's nature, and hence, self-knowledge. As concerns the antithesis, good and evil are either the result of a formal cause or are outside the causal system. The thesis which we have presented in some detail in the preceding pages is a detached, objective, general account of what goes on in the tragedy. A certain number of causes come together to produce discord with the first causes. The result is conflict. There is no way of saying in this account that the conflict is good or bad. We can only say that it is in accord with causality. Hence, there is no sense in applying value judgments to the play, since to accept this account as complete would mean that we require ourselves to deny the possibility of being able to judge when something is good and something is evil. Yet, it is impossible to read the play without thinking that some thines are wrong or disorderly and not in accord with the good. The first part of the antithesis is, if evil is the result of a formal cause, then man is evil by nature. If man is evil by nature, he would be a complete bundle of petty desires and internal contradictions and would not be enabled to have any concise aims whatsoever. Yet, we see that the evil characters in the play are cohesive and do have directed goals. If we accept the critical react{on outlined in the first paragraph, that some men are naturally good and others, naturally evil, and also accept the critical reaction that this good and evil is inexplicable, then good and evil of actions should not be attributed to nature since both are regarded as essentially causeless. If we admit that we do not know what the cause is, and if we say as a consequence that good and evil are god-like things, we really are saying that the goodness and evilness of things are not produced by any causes whatsoever. Nevertheless, we cannot avoid giving the .goodness and the evilness of things an objective existence. This means that the laws of good and evil are given by the gods and that the characters understand them and act in accordance with them or not (depending on their attitudes). In the last analysis, one can only say that good and evil are in some respect indescribable; that they cannot be named. ��ters Before scenes does not have a scenes Lear asks two direct thunder? and Is there any The firs ques of nature is sufficient to arouse our wonder That the ques ion is that thunder is looked upon as causeless or eminent but rather that it is the Lear is no the one who who commands na determines purpose if Nature hear there stands to the the question do not of The next hard hearts?" causa Scene evil is indirec the Mad Scene. that Lear has the vi he exercises power be is is delicate s horses with felt when I have stol Then kil , ki that moral determined I in these son-inkill kil does we look at is hence there is strict to shoe causes: �48 ~hen the . thunder would not peace at my bidding; there I found 'em, there I smelt 'em out. Go to, they are not men o' their words .They told me I I am not aguewas everything. 'Tis a lie · proof • . (IV, vi, 1.01-104) & , · After the Mad Scene, King Lear wanders back and forth in thought from one side of the antinomy to the other. His reaction when at last he confronfs Cordelia: If you have poison for me, I will drink it. I kn~w you do not iove me; for your sisters Have, as I do remember, done me wrong. You have some cause, they do not. (IV,vii,72-74) illustrates that ~~ is still thinking in terms of the thesis. Then why, you ask, does he say that Goneril and Regan have no cause for their actions? This I take to mean that they did not do harm by .: way of retaliation; that the wrong they did was unprovoked. W know this statement is not sufficient . e Goneril and Regan did have cause. Still Lear would say that the doing of harm to him was incidental to their cause. Cordelia, on the other hand, does have a rea.1 cause. Since Lear has wronged her, she, for all practical pu,r poses, shoµid wrong him back. Cordelia's response: No cause, no cause. again changes Lear's world-view. The most powerful evidence in support of this is given in his words to Cordelia just before Lear and she are taken as captives. He says: No,no,no,no! Come, let's away to prison We two alone will sing like birds i' th' cage. When thou dost ask me blessing, I shall kneel and ask of thee forgiveness... (V,iii,8-) Prison is unimportant and irrelevant. If one is good, he is not affected by his environment (or things that caus.e him to be limited physically). Good and evil are strictly independant of causality. A curious metamorphosis of character is also evidenced in Gloucester. W confront him in the tragedy already enveloped in one side of the antie nomy. He is convinced that cause and effect relationships are present in nature . When he tries to understand what these relationships are , however , he becomes totally befuddled. How could effects at least appear to be not proportional to their causes? How could seemingly unnatural effects spring from natural principles? His knowledge of the wisdom of nature has hithertofore proved useful since he could easily apply what he saw to what the natural harmonic causes must be. When he is faced with something to which his rote knowledge of nature cannot be applied, his reaction is to �s �50 He's L Caius, Kent's alia,2/ a good fellow, I can tell you that. He'll strike, and quickly too. He's dead and rotten. (V,iii,285-) Caius is good because he strikes quickly. something. He is good for Then what about the antithesis? Was it a pure imposed on the causal scheme? Clearly, Lear cannot there is an objective good which he has experienced He demonstrates a remarkable concern for the breath As well as the passage quoted above, we notice: illusion superdeny or forget that ••• and he does not. on Cordelia's lips: This feather stirs; she lives! (V,iii,266) Do you see this? Look on her! Look her lips, Look there, look there (He dies.) (V, iii, 311) Knowing full well that she is, as far as physical causes are concerned, dead, knowing full well that on the side of the thesis, a cause can devastate goodness, Lear seeks for signs of life. Have we not, then, the right to ask the question, "Can goodness be subject to death, if it is not subject to prison bars?" The asking of this question is justified further through the double meaning of the word breath. If it were merely a question of physical breath, why then, Cordelia has died, and Lear has fallen into the greatest of self-deceptions. If there is the indication of another kind of breath towards which Lear's search is really directeda spirit which has always been associated with breath, then the final scene becomes charged with a beautiful, purposeful ambiguity. We find Lear at the end of the tragedy endowed with a vision of terrible clarity; everything is seen ~ it is. At the same time we find in him a refusal to accept that which is physically there as that which is ultimately there. And there is no reconciliation of these views. The fact that both are symbolized in Cordelia's breath only serves to strengthen the contrast. We cannot help feeling ;that Lear is the true tragic hero, that there is no one more noble than him, because there is more to being a man than knowing causes or being resigned to the fundamental unknowability of good and evil. It is in the simultaneous realization of these things, the consequent inability to resign oneself to one or the other, and the very mad but very human search for the ultimate reality which might form the link between the two, that the true nobility and the tragedy of being a man consists. Can the contradiction be resolved? Is there an ultimate reality of which this vale of tears is but a dim reflection? The answer can only be found in what the dying Lear sees on the lips of Cordelia -- and what that is, none of us will ever know. �� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Collegian Description An account of the resource The Collegian began as a student newspaper; became a college community literary publication in 1952 and continued until 1969; became a student newspaper again in 1969; discontinued publication from 1980 until 1989 when it again became a student literary publication. Click on <a title="The Collegian" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=26">Items in The Collegian Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 50 pages Text Any textual data included in the document text 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 Anthony, George (Editor) Anthony, Meredith (Editor) Title A name given to the resource Collegian Prize Essays, 1966-67 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1966 1967 Description An account of the resource Issue of The Collegian, entitled "Prize Essays 1966-67". Published in [1967]. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Collegian Prize Essays 1966-1967 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 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf The Collegian https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/9cf90e0d30693aee18d299332365482d.pdf b7f618943e4825594ef561ff5790d463 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Collegian Description An account of the resource The Collegian began as a student newspaper; became a college community literary publication in 1952 and continued until 1969; became a student newspaper again in 1969; discontinued publication from 1980 until 1989 when it again became a student literary publication. Click on <a title="The Collegian" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=26">Items in The Collegian Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 99 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 Anthony, George (Editor) Anthony, Meredith (Editor) Title A name given to the resource Prize Essays, 1965-1966 (The Collegian, Spring 1967) Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1966 Description An account of the resource Issue of The Collegian. Published in 1966. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Collegian 1966 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 The Collegian https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/d9e2fd91d43adc23fe9beb4682f70fb1.pdf 83f50fc813036da5ead9fb20de30c5a5 PDF Text Text �SPRING 1967 Cover Design Candace Brightman '67 In Memory of Susan Roberts 1 On The Untenability of 2 Pacifism Tutor Geoffrey Comber, Tutor Chess Problem 8 David Dickey '6 7 An Epilogue For Oedipus 9 H. John Witman '69 L' Age Ingrat 10 LOvejoy Reeves '67 Evening in Layfayette Square 11 Anthony Snively- '69 The Still Wandering (Poetry Prize '66) 12 Illustration 12 Maura Sisson '69 Jersey B6y 13 Martin Rosenthal '70 On Some Simple Models of Non- Euclidean Geometry 14 Scieotlfic Laws of Parties 18 'Professor Arbuthnot' '69 Chess Problem 20 Richard Hamblen '6 7 Quartal Fugue 21 Dean Hannotte '68 Ink Drawing 26 Linda Sampey '69 1he Actors 27 Michael Bridge '70 James Mensch '67 Eric Back '66 .·•. ·.' ...... ****** Editors - George and Meredith Anthony Associate Editor Advisor Avron Alberts Eva Brann ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND �-I~ I ,-_;. The College mourns the death of Susan Roberts, who graduated June 12th, 1966. She died in the flower of her youth on November 6th, 1966. _( f. The enigmatic composition of her vital forces, the veiled nature of her temper, the hidden sources of her impulses - all these were not revealed to most of us. But to all of us who knew her from seminars, tutorials, preceptorials, or private conversations, the alertness of her mind, the penetrating vigor of her understanding, the unfailing grace of her intelligence were wonderfully conspicuous. The work she did as editor of the COLLEGIAN was exemplary. Her life was like a streak of light. radiance it left cannot fade. ,_ * :~ The �Any merit this paper has owes much to many interesting discussions which I had during the summer of 1964 with my former colleague, · Professor John Narveson, of the University of Waterloo, Ontario. Its shortcomings are my responsibility. Tue substance of the argument was presented to a collognium at the University of Maryland in the Spring of 1966. On the Untenability of Pacifism - - Geoffrey Comber Though the term "pacifism" has been part of our language for many years, it is only in the most recent years that it has been em ployed as the label of a variety of doctrines which, in turn, have been appealed to to sanction a great number of acts of considerable social impact. It is important, therefore, both intellectually and socially, to conduct an analysis of what is meant by "pacifism" so that we may be clearer about the conceptual and social ramifications involved and, to that extent, become more responsible in our endorsement or rejection of one of the doctrines. I say "doctrines, " since there are a motley collection of meanings which parade under the heading of pacifism. For example, a person who cringes and is revolted by the sight (or hearing) of an innocent child being cruelly beaten by an adult might explain this revulsion by saying, '1 guess that's my pacifist tendencies showing." On further questioning, he might generalize and say that by being a pacifist he means that he believes the inflicting of pain should be avoided if at all possible. But this surely takes any special sting out of the doctrine of pacifism, for with that last clause, "if at all possible, " he has watered down his doctrine to the point where almost all mankind would readily agree with him. "Violence is an evil to be avoided if possible" is not hard for us all to agree with while still engaging in violent acts, simply by recognizing the fact that our choices frequently lie between two or more relatively evil alternatives. But it is not this extended and hopelessly all-embracing meaning of the term that I am interested in. The doctrine that is philosophically interesting is the one which claims that non -violence or peace should be preserved at any cost; even in the face of a violent attack upon the person holding the doctrine, or his friends and loved ones. To put this same point negatively, it is said that a person should not use violence under any circumstances, even to combat or prevent violence. The pacifist, as I understand him, is not the person who believes that a bare minimum of force is to be used against one who attacks us. That the response to an attack upon our friends or ourselves should be appropriate to that attack is a view held by most of mankind. Few people think it justifiable that we should respond with a knife stab to the heart or a shot in the head against a hoodlum who kicks us on the street. It is surely more appropriate merely to kick -2- him where it hurts more, or rap him smartly with an unbrella, etc. But, I take it, the pacifist would not agree. For, if he, too, holds that we may meet force with the least force necessary to prevent further attack, then he has to show in what way his views are differ ent from those of us who believe the same yet call ourselves non pacifists. Indeed, we don't have to be a pacifist to hold that, if we are sufficiently powerful, we ought not to inflict pain at all on the kicking lout, but simply to render him helpless painlessly by tying his hands and feet with rubber-padded cords. It becomes apparent, therefore, that to be clear as to what con stitutes a pacifist, we must ask a believer several important questions. Let us take the central tenet of the pacifist as the following: One should not respond to violence with violence. What we now need to ask the alleged pacifist is, (a) What is the scope of the principle with respect to the agent, i.e., who should not respond? (b) Are there any qualifications regarding the object of the principles, i.e., is it justifiable forcefully to resist some attackers but not others? (c) What is the status of the principle, i.e., is it a moral obli gation, or, say, an effective strategem? Briefly, I intend to show that, in order to make of pacifism a principle. which could conceivably make obligatory claims on our con duct, it is necessary to give the answers, a) Everyone, b) No, and c) A moral obligation. Who should not respond to violence with violence? There seem to be three alternatives. i) Our pacifist friend may reply, "Well, far be it from me to speak on anyone else's behalf, it is only I who should behave thus, but it would please me if others felt the same way." But this, while he can call himself a pacifist if he wishes, is not to hold any principle at all. It is no different from a person who just happens to delight in the sound of a 'cello played well. It lays no obligation on anyone else to love 'cellos, no reasons are offered for 'cello-loving, and it would probably please the 'cello-lover to have more 'cello-lovers, so that they could take their enjoyment in company. A 'principle' which only applies to the person who merely happens to hold it is no principle at all--it is the expression of a peculiarly personal feeling, which may only by coincidence, be similar to someone else's. ii) But suppose our question is answered by trying to delineate some class of agents on whom the principle is binding. Clearly, the pacifist cannot draw such limiting lines arbitrarly. E.g., it would be rejected as absurd if it were held to apply only to the class of green-haired men, or to those with an I.Q. above 115. No, the only sub-class of men to whom it could significantly be said to apply (to the exclusion of the remainder of mankind) is the class of "enlightened, " -3~ �-r~,--ccc~-~-~-c~c~=o.~~=o==~=-=-~i---=·~- l#f 1 I or "wise" men. But this class would be co-extensive with the class of "pacifists" according to our pacifist. So the doctrine is now: · Only pacifists should not meet violence with violence. But this is clearly a petitio principi, for who, we must ask, are pacifists? People who believe they should not meet violence with violenc_e. Well, who shouldnot meetvfolence with violence? Pacifists. In otherwo:tds, the 'principle' that: Only pacifists have the duty of non-violence, is not a principle at all. It gives us no answer to the question of the scope of the principle, but is merely an elleptlcal and misleading way of telling us that pacifists, in fact, believe that one should not meet violence with violence - -something which is surely not informative, and certainly does not begin to answer the question we asked. _ But . perhaps it is to be argued that we misread the principle, and that really what was meant was that: Only people who believe -that violence should not be met with violence have the duty not to meetviolence with violence. The problem- now is that this interpretation falls into. the trap of holding that "believing makes it so." No. amount of rhetorical devices and argumentation can conclude '.'P is true" from "I believe P." That is, it does not follow that "A has a duty D"from. '·'A believes he has the duty D." The question we are interested in is, why do only pacifists have the duty of not meeting violence with violence? And it is inadequate to reply to that, "Because they believe they are the only ones who have the duty. " iii) The only alternative left is that, if the doctrine is to be held as ~ intelligible principle, then it has to be offered as universally applicable. That is, all men should meet violence with non-violence. .. ' b) It is justifiable to resist some attacks and not others? It may be argued that our simple formulation of the pacifist doctrine needs qualification with respect to the object of"the attack. Specifically, the pacifist should be characterized as one who holds that violence should not be met with Violence if the pacifist himself is the object of the attack, but he may resist violently attacks on someone else. For example, if the pacifist is attacked, he should turn the other cheek, but he may resist attacks on his children. This view is surprisiilgly commonly held in spite of the fact that, upon close sc:i;-utiny, it is an extremely odd position. What is implied by such a view? It means that my person has no rights of protection~ · but, for some pecular reason, other persons have such rights. · But if it is true that the pacifist doctrine is universally applicable, that other person (the attacked) should not aid us in his own defence. so· we have a picture of the victim doing nothing on his own behalf, while we are going to his assistance to prevent him :Q:om harm~- But it is now ourselves who are the object of the attack ( for the attacker must now get rid of us to get on with his original task). Consequently, we must now become passive and submit, which re-establishes the first victim as justified in defending us; but then he automatically becomes the new object, and must revert to passivity, etc . ad infintum. The result, presumably, is that the pacifist is driven back to his earlier -4- position, whi.ch he tried to qualify in ·the way described above, and must say agam, no person may defend either himself or anyone else. .But,- the p~ifist will cry out that we are distorting and ridicul hrm. He ~ll say that, of course a man should defend his own children--tllat is part of his responsibility as a father. And to say it i~ a r~sponsibility is to .say_ 1;1.ot only th.at a man has a right to defend h~s childr.en,. but an obligation, too. But this is a contradiction with his doctrme that, Everyone ought not to defend himself. For it fol lows from that. univ~rsal pr~c~ple that, if you are a person, then you ~ho.uld put yourself m the position of being undefended. Now the child ~s m accord with that principle (whether by desire or necessity is irrelevant), and therefore, if the principle is morally correct and to be maintained, the child should not even be encouraged to be out of th~ accord. But the p~ifist doctrine, as modified above, tries to claim that we have a right and obligation to remove the child from that morally proper position by changing it from an undefended pe~son to a defe~ded per~on. This is merely as clear a case as one might hope to find of an mternally inconsistent doctrine. . ~ .; No, he must say that his doctrine that,· "Everyone should not resist vio.lence with violence"~ is universally applicable with respect to the 0~1ect of the at1;ack, JUSt as we saw it had to be universal in sc?Pe ~th res~ect to those on whom the principle was binding- -his children s physical safety notwithstanding. . c) Finally, let us turn to the question of the status of this prinI have used the terms, "moral, " "right, " "obligation" and what a .man oug.ht to do, " in the sections above. And I think it is worthwhile to. pomt out the necessity for treating pacifism as an in tended moral doctr~.e as distinct from a matter of tactics in getting your own way. Pacifism can be and is sometimes defended as a suita?le tactic ~.accomplishing. some other goal. For example, principle~ of pacifism have been invoked on behalf of civil rights causes. To turn_ the other cheek, leg or arm when attacked by Bull O'Connor's dogs takes a great deal of self-discipline. But we must ask, Why turn the other cheek~ .It may be answered that in so doing, and making sure .th.at those incidents are well and truly recorded in the press and television reports, the righteous ~dignation and wrath of large segments of ?ther parts of the population· are• turned against the aggres sors and in favor of the civil rights workers. Whereas, if the workers we.re to retaliate violently by slaughtering the dogs and maiming the police, the reverse reaction would be adopted bythemajority of the onloo~ popullll:io~. ~ ~us, to turn the other cheek is tactically successful in accomplishing what the civil rights workers desired. But s~pose fo+ a moment that this was empirically not borne out. That is, suppose that in the act of tirrning the other cheek the effect were to infuriate most Americans and even world opinion' to the point ~~re they egged on the dogs and police to greater and greater indigmttes and cruelty; perhaps hoping to get some reaction from the workers to show that they .had some manhood in them. This is by no ~iple. �04 -~, means an outrageous supposition. It has occurred frequently in history that the very act of passively accepting pain and torture provokes the masses of onlookers to greater violence. It is clear under these conditions that it is tactically absurd to pursue the pacifist's course. But surely the pacifist, as we are circumscribing him, must continue to pursue the passive course, . even though his original interests re· cede further away, and his acts encourage in others that which he holds to be evil. No, pacifism, as a doctrine of philosophical inter est, must be maintained as a moral principle, and it is quite an incidental matter if it turns out to accomplish other desired· programs of reform. Empirically,. it is just as likely to thwart such aims. II Now that we have become clearer about what the pacifist must say to be of any interest to anyone, and the scope and status of his doctrine, let us examine it closely to see what it implies. I ;, ! The pacifist is proclaiming a moral doctrine which implies that, if it is true, then everyone in fact has a duty to obey the tenets of pacifism. If I have a duty to obey the doctrine that everyone should not respond with violence to violence, then it follows that everyone has a right not to respond in that manner. But an unprotected or un defended right is wholly indistinguishable from no right at all. I can mouth the words energetically, or write the words in stone that I have such and such a right, but if I refuse to defend that right, or be pre pared to appeal to someone else to defend that right, the ~ords or sounds are merely that--just words and sounds--a flatus~. The words, "There are fairies at the bottom of my garden" do not imply that in fact there are fairies at the bottom of my garden. If we believe that the fact of being a Negro should not preclude a person from constitutionally permissable political activity (i.e., he has a right to that activity), we would surely be guilty of double-talk if we went on to say that no one should defend that right. Let me make this point more forcefully from a somewhat different beginning. If it is true .that everyone has a duty to avoid doing violent actions, then it follows that everyone has a right not to have violence used against him. But everyone has a right not to have force used against him, then he has a right to be protected from force by himself or someone more able. However, to say, as the pacifist must, that no one has 2. right to be defended against an infringement of the right to be defended against, a person's right not to be violently attacked is indeed self-contradictory. Perhaps the pacificist will try to extract himself from this awkposition by replying that everyone has a right to·· be defended against attacks, but the defence must stop short of violence. What ·~rd -6- does this mean? It cannot mean that the protection- must be built ID.to the legal system, for to take that view, he is simply saying that the full force of the law, and the enforcement powers it has, should.stand behind a person's right not to De attacked, This is simply to delay the. time and organize the force when viofonce is to be permitted. That is, it is to take the view that some specially chosen people may respond with violence to violence. But this is in opposition to what we saw the pacifist must believe. This view, nainely, that all force should reside in a properly authorized group of men, and be forbidden to private citizens is quite common, but it is not compatible with. the pacifist doctrine. They only method of defence left to safeguard the right of not being violently attacked is the "force" of an argument. For it is when we fail in our attempts to persuadebydiscoursethat violence may be resorted to. The alternative to violence when argu ment fails is to "agree to disagree", to break off the discourse with the possibility of its resumption at a later time. But this in itself is to use arguinentation successfully· in so far as it results in not being attacked there and then. And indeed, one need not be a pacificist to believe that one should try, whenever possible, to persuade a person not to use violence when threatened. But, more often than not, the attacker. is not interested in first sitting down to discuss the merits of forceful attacks; and if he is, he may be unpersuaded. What then? Clearly, since by "failing to persuade" we mean that the other person continued on his intended course, it follows that we will be attacked by him •. Yet this, according to the doctrine, is for him to do something morally wrong, and for us to be deprived of a right. We will return to this shortly. Let us ask what it is precisely that we would try to persuade him; surely, that he is doing something morally wrong, and that we have a right not to have that evil happen to us; further, that. we are presently engaged in protecting that right by the act of persuasion. But, if we announce in advance that we will not do more than talk to him (i.e., we will not go as far as forcefully protecting our right), then we are to that extent encouraging him to take that forceful step, for he knows he will gain what he desired more cheaply·than he may have believed formerly. &it, worse yet, what we are trying to persuade him involves a contradiction. For we are trying to persuade him that what he is doing is morally wrong and we would be morally wrong to prevent him from doing it. -What would the attacker conclude from such a contradiction? I suggest that he would properly conclude that the pacifist is a very muddled person, Does it follow from the above arugments that, if attacked, one should respond with force? The answer is obviously, No. If I choose to forfeit my right of self-defence, that's my business. (At least, I prefer to say it is a totally different question from that considered in this article. In fact, I'm not at all sure I do have that right unqualifiedly). Though, curiously, it is that very right of selfdefence--of not having violence perpetrated to any person--which is the most basic right the pacifist would insist on. It makes it difficult to see what is left of the doctrine if that right is now forfeited. But -7- �., the point which is demonstrated here is that, even if one turns the other cheek when struck, it is logically untenable to erect that particular act into the universally applicable moral principle we call pacifism. If pacifism as a moral principle is self-contradictory, then to appeal to it to sanction any act or de.cision is equally not permissable. Minimally, therefore, we may conclude that, while it may be the case that an avowed pacifist may choose not to defend himself, it can not be from any intelligible principle. Consequently, he can not make any claims whatsoever on anyone else's beliefs or behavior, and his attempt to persuade us to do as he does is considerablymoreI!listaken than an attempt to persuade us all to enjoy the sound of oboes to the exclusion of 'cellos. His attempt would be the result of a confusion of thought from the outset; and is no different qualitatively from the Cretan who announced, "All Cretans are liars." An Epilogue for Oedipus (To follow the chorus' final word in Oedipus at Colon us.) There is a ~eat bel~ow of th~der. All flee, cowering, and so exit, the sound ~till pulsmg. As 1t beats to silence, the Furies emerge from the thicket and face the audience. Furies: 0 Earth. 0 sacred ground. You now Devour Oedipus. Consume, at last His ragged corpse and ever-tortur~d soul. Release his weary spirit. Hurl it down By Styx' sure-guided tmrelenting waters. Keep it always in your darkened, misty cavern, Where the vacant eyes of Oedipus Rejoice the sun no less than any others. 0 Oedipus. The hapless infant born Of ominous couple . • . Allay his own Disaster? Never. Cuffed by pride's quick scepter He dealt like to like and laid it dead. ' Of sterilizing pestilence he purged ~e 'Ibeban plain. In honor, queen and country His became. But father's blood and mother's Bed he had unwittingly defiled. By God, observe. The retribution came. He suffered dreadful truth, Sought this sacred grove and our embrace. We bless whom once our wont was to destroy. A body blacked by soul ingenuous has not In turn a blackened but enlightened soul. Count no mortal wretched until death Reveals a final judgement. (Exit) -- H. John Witman White to move and mate in 3 - - David Dickey ****** -8- .. 9- �L'AGE INGRAT. (Ronde enfantine ~ chanter dans une asile d' alienes en Suisse musique "O Tannenbaum.") a la Evening in Layfayette Square Qu'y a-t-il de plus incongrue qu'une adolescente? Petite Bardot avec des appareils aux dents .. au petit matin, evitant soigneusement de se laver ses grands yeux mi-clos . elle glisse gauchement parmi le babil des oiseaux et parm~ les roses .. la salle-<l-manger on n'entend que le bruit de ses macho1_res:. l' appel elle tache. de reconcilier des instructions contradicto1res. sonnettes .. sports .. mollement elle lance un ballon mou (Hortense a dit, je m'enfous.) . · . ..,,. elle s'est precipitee sur les gateaux secs et lalimonade tiede (elle aurait mieux fait de stood in bed) . sonnettes.. . classes.. • classes.. . sonnettes Mlle Eve parmi les b~es · Courage. . patience. . sonnettes .. Mais plus tard, plus a-· son aise Elle chantera la Marseillaise et boira de la bouillabaisse cette journee qui s 'use, qui la laisse lasse C'est la Trinite qui passe sonnettes. • . babil. . • babiUages .. · r&res. • tout passe •.• pas de cocorico avant l 'aube se dit-elle en enlevant sa robe .. pas de coquelicot, gentille fleur pas de quoi, M' sieu le Directeur · passez par ici, voila le menu, choisissez ife1as, nous ne sommes plus au bistro .• m&e le patron du Ritz nous rit au nez. . ,, Nous n 'irons plus au bois, les plumes de ma tante sont coupees Plus de nuits dans les jardins d'Espagne taut que papa n'est pas sorti du bagne Je mets le livre sur la table. Je ferme la P?rte .. J' ai, tu as, il a eu, chapitre neuf Bonne nuit 0 doux prince de Hotchkiss 1959 . Avec les boutons sur le nez et la t€te d'oeuf. a a ! i I -- Lovejoy Reeves ****** -10- Why should I not fall With the heavy white of snow . That wavers past the windswept spires Circling 'down to the ancients Of the square · And dallies on the edge of pools Like small boys who walk tall strides Among the sounds of plainsong bells To hold the sun quivering In their hand? Winter is tl)e color of feeling, Pale stone white riders clothed in scarlet That linger where boys once broke bare Summer pines to leave beside The snow washed statues. In this eye now sits delusion, The world tinged cold with rusted wind, Snowcrusted, And the flesh wet lake with undiscovered Remnants Of the snowflakes vanishing From the warm surfaces of my flesh. Anthony Snively �A Jersey Boy The Still Wandering The still wandering of the path the quiet increase of glory the silence gathering upon the branches as the last leaves on falling. Each to each brings rich .increase and in the fullness of time, gives birth to contemplation as uncertain labors cease. . The pale branches performing their moonlit dance · the spheres' progression between the times observed, music and silence together growing, · become forgetful of their old calling. Each to each brings rich increase and in the fullness of time, gives birth to contemplation as uncertain labors cease. James Mensch Jn the wild hell da)CS of youth the Jersey Boy went looking through the books of beauty and of truth. There he journeyed with his steady girl Naivete the joy-need turnpike of eternity', Which brought them to the city of New Works. Jersey Boy was a nutty and a wild thing, But his girl had eyes to keep him steady. This lover boy lived with his sweetheart in the city. He was the only steady stud, Tue only wild man ever seen to stay, For Naivete was one tough piece of ass. They together had the real deity. They had the finite thing that life is, Because they had the day's eternity. The newest thing was the diamond ring Naivete wore on her finger. She never had a stone And she never was alone. The whole old world of sacred people, Scared to death by all the shattered images, Were tiny frightened by the Jersey Boy. They came down on his head. No one can crush a Jersey Boy. A Jersey Boy is joy. He had his uptight scene with bright Naivete, He picked her up and slammed the door; The falling city was no more to them. To the land of sunny days and thunderstorms and wild forms And canyons And of deep green clover beds And Sunday trips into the city, Went the bright-eyed dreamers. Pagans lived they with the new strong sollllds ar01.md them, And the modern mountains Where they built the amphitheaters Under astrodomes. They lived in homes of steel, Where the social scene was building fewer ones, And filling in more people. Do you want to be a Jersey Boy? Do you want to be a Jersey Boy? Do you want to be a Jersey Boy? A Jersey Boy is joy, and what are you? - - Marty Rosenthal -12- -13- �On Some Simple Models of Non - Euclidean Geometry: Showing the Alternatives to Euclid's Fifth Postulate -- Eric Back From the beginning, the Fifth Postulate of Euclid's Elements has been a stumbling block for geometers. This postulate is unique among the postulates of Euclid in its dependence on what occurs when lines are produced indefinitely. Spei;ifically, the postulate states that if a pair of lines are cut by a third line (a transversal), and if the angles formed on one side of the transversal with each of the two lines are together equal to less than two right angles, then the two lines, if produced indefinitely on that side, ·will eventually meet. The qualities of self-evidence and simplicity, possessed by the first four postulates, alone tend to set the fifth apart, its appearance being more that of a theorem or proposition requiring a proof. . In addition, its specific; utilitarian form prompts one to suspect that it was added because it was necessary in order to prove formally certain propositions which were themselves clearly true. The postulate may be restated as follows: through any point not on a given line, one and only one line can be drawn parallel to the given line. This restatement is sometimes called Playfair 's Axiom, and although a simpler and more modem form of expression, it has the drawback that while the Fifth Postulate is concerned with ari angle sum when two lines meet, and canbe drawn so as to meet, Playfair 's Axiom deals only with lines which never meet. In either form the postulate exhibits the quality which has made it an object of such concern; namely, the supposition that something can be assumed to be true about a line, no matter how far it is produced. · · Because of this quality, and because of its theorem ""like form in spite of its apparent axiomatic independence, geometers undertook to prove it in terms of other Euclidean axioms, and thus to demonstrate that it was an integral part of the Euclidean geometry. After· two thousand years of attempts, often ingenious but always frustrated, geometers began to realize that the apparent independence of the Fifth Postulate was a genuine independence, that its truth was not neces sary to produce a consistent geometry. Rather than tracing the historical development based· on this realization, or considering the particular geometries derived from it, let us make certain observations and propose possible alternatives to the 'Euclidean geometry based on the Fifth Postulate. · · · · If we consider the Fifth Postulate as independent of the other axioms of Euclidean geometry, that is; not provable froin these axioms, we should consider what happens when alternative postulates are substituted. In Playfair's expression of the postulate the result is that "~ and only one line can be drawn parallel". The obvious alternatives are that no lines can be drawn parallel, or the more -14- than one line. can be drawn parallel. In looking for alternative postulates it would be well to remem ber the primary .difficulty with Euclid's Fifth Postulate, the assumptiQn that.parallel lines will never meet, no matter how far they may be produced. A similar difficulty may arise with lines which are not parallel, but which meet at. some ~o_int e~tremely f~r fr_om the_ r_egion under consideration, that is, a f1mte distance which is empirically impractical to determine. A desirable feature, then, of an alternative geometry would be a model of the geo?1etry ~hich allows us to "see" what happens when lines are produced rndef1mtely. With this in mind, let us treat first the case where more than one line can be drawn which does not meet the given line. Suppose a model in wnich all space is represented as a closed figure such as a circle. (figure 1) All points inside the circle are points in space, points on the circumference of the circle are points at infinite distance from any other points in the space. Line segments in this model are determinedby any two points, as . in Euclidean geometry. Complete lines, that is, those extended infinitely in each direction, are chords of the circle, since their end points are on the circumference, and thus as infinite distfig. (1) ance from any other points on the lines. Then, in fig. 2, we can ~·see" that in this geometry, given a 1, and a point, P, not on the line, more than one line can be drawn "parallel to", that is, not meeting, the given line; and that two lines, those meeting on the circumference, form the limit of all pof!sible parallels. It is possible to show further that the geometry rep re sented by this model is compatible with all of the Euclidean postulates other than the .Fifth· Postulate, and is a con sistent geometry. By altering the basic elements of Euclidean geometry (points, fig. (2) lines, angles, distances, etc.) into analogous elements of the geometry of the model, the an_alogous theorems of Euclidean geometry can be demonstrated. Smee the most blatant mutation of Euclidean geometry in the model is the representa tion of the infinite distance within a finite model, it seems appropriate to explain the method of measurement which resolves this. pr~blem. Suppose a line segment AB as in fig. 3(a). The complete line is ST. line~ �I I I Then consider the quantity ATI AS • BS/BT. This quantity, known as the cross-product,* possesses the primary characteristic which is needed, namely, that the quantity increases with an increase in the distance between A and B, and approaches infinity as either A or .B approaches the circumference of the circle. This can be seen as implicit in the quantity AT/AS•BS/BT, and can be shown by pointing out that the limit of the quantity AT/AS as A approaches S is infinity, and thus the distance AT/ AS· BS/BT is infinite. One modification is necessary in order that the segments measured will be additive in the ordinary Euclidean sense: using the logarithm of the cross-product meets this requirement. Thus loge AT/AS· BS/BT gives us a quantity for measurement which is completely compatible with both the model and the Euclidean requirements for measurement. :.1 measured by the logarithm of the cross-product, in this case by drawing. a chord to the circle through the two points. In this model, as in the former, Playfair's form of the Fifth Postulate is denied, for again {fig. 4 ), given a line, (circular arc) and a point not on the line, any number of lines (circular arcs) can be drawn through the point which do not meet the given line. In fact, all of the definitions, postulates and theorems which held in the former model hold here. Further, these models are both representations of the fundamental aspects of one geometry, based on the denial of the Fifth Postulate and the assumption that more than one line can be drawn, through a given point, not meeting a given line. fig. 3(b) Another model, quite similar in many respects, is shown in fig. 4. Here again we have a circle which represents the boundary of space, but the "straight" lines of this model are segments of circles which are orthogonal to the circle representing space. A physical analog to this model has been suggested: suppose that "straight line" is defined as the path of a ray of light. Suppose further that the velocity of the ray of light at any point inside the circle of fig. 4 is proportional to the distance of that point from the circumference of the circle. The ray of light will then travel on a path similar to those in fig. 4. ** fig. 4 This seems to be a possible theory for real light rays in real space. A ray of light we observe in a laboratory might seem to "lie evenly with the points on itself", but we can imagine it to be such a small portion of a complete ray of light in space that its real circular path is not evident. In the model, then, the circle serves the same purpose as before, while the circular arcs are straight lines. Two points determine a straight line, Gince there is only one circle through the two points and orthogonal to the circle of space. Distance is again *The cross-product is chosen mainly for its invariance under transc.,~,..,., "ti0n" not C()nSidered here. '1.,..oura.t1L 1;i, Robbins, What is Mathematics? Fourth -.:Jition, p. 223. -16- The other possibility in denying the Fifth Postulate is, as stated before, that no lines through the given point are parallel to the given line. It was pointed out before that it is instructive and convincing if the model constructed allows us to "see" what happens when the line under consideration is extended indefinitely. In the present case we can simplify the model by eliminating the necessity for a method of measurement which differs from the Euclidean measurement. Let us represent space in this model by the surface of a sphere, and Euclidean straight lines by great circles on this surface. Great circles are those which come back on .themselves, and thus we have a representation of a straight line which can be extended indefinitely and yet never escape our "vision". (fig. 5) This line would be called boundless, rather that infinite. In this model it is apparent that any straight line drawn th.rough the given point will meet the given line. If the surface of the sphere fig. (5) is taken as a two-dimensional system, ordinary Euclidean multiple-unit measurement applies. Again, the · definitions, postulates and axioms of the first. model are employed (except any which deal with "betweeness", since a point on a line can be reached from two directions). This model also represents a geometry named for the properties of its straight line: elliptic geometry. Likewise (in retrospect) we can see that the other models, by virtue of their straight lines and their properties, are suitably named hyperbolic geometry. Admittedly, the obvious next· step would be to prove that the geometries described are consistent and produce no internal contradictions. This process involves a more detailed investigation of the axioms of the geometries involved, and I do not intend to consider this here. Needless to say, these geometries can be shown to be consistent, and, as offensive as it may be to "Euclidean sensibilities", these geometries have far-reaching significance for the world of mathematics, and for the real world in general. -17.,. �-Professor Arbuthnot Presents: Scientific Laws of Parties individual equivalence ratios, these. since there is apparently no law for Where Van't Hoff discovered a marvelous analogy between laws governing gases and laws governing solutes, the indubitible Liebling Kohs announces the discovery of a wonderful analogy between those laws and the laws governing the average campus party. This analogy was discovered after long and careful observation by Kohs, who, with grim scientific determination, got drunk at every campus party in the last year and a half. This Spartan effort was hardly in vain, as well shall see. (yVe might also note that this explains the nature and quality of his work to date.) These laws are more or less intuitive; that is, one might have suspected their validity. One law Kohs discovered, however, could not have been reached by intuition. It is this: the desire D of a person X for alcohol is not affected in increase or decrease by intake, output, individual alcoholic saturation constant, repeated loss of one's last meal, walking into doors and walls, or total insensibility. Kohs views this as the only and undeniable constant in the universe, and is now erecting a cult to the great god Sott. This will be further discussed below. BOWEL'S LAW: One of the first things to come to light was the relation between alcoholic intake and liquid output. Liebling Kohs su spected that a mathematical relation existed, and set about verifying this. Measuring both intake and output with burets, Kohs finally established the law, at the not inconsiderable risk ofconfusing burets. Simply stated, the law is 11: 12 ::01: 02 where I is intake and 0 is output. In arithmetic form the law is 11 01 OSMOSIS: The laws discussed so far have pertained to individual alcoholic intake. Kohs also discovered certain laws pertaining to the physics of a party in general. Where any individual person is considered as a mass unit, Kohs discovered that mass units in any num ber always occupy the maximum possible space, diffusing from areas bf greater concentration to areas of lesser concentration. When a certain maximum point is reached, mass units are forcibly expelled through whatever exits are possible. Thus by determing the voliune of the party space, and observing the number and velocity of mass units expelled through the exits, one can determine the number of people at the party. s 02 This is know as Bowel's Law. CHARTLE'S LAW: Bowel's Law established a volumetr~c relationship pertaining to alcoholic intake. Embarrassing experience made Kolis suspect that a mathematical relationship also existed with regard to Pressure: that is to say, bladder pressure. By means of annoying little electrodes (not to mention insipid and ceaseless questions: "Dah, what're those little wires runnin' into yer pants? You got a 'lectric zipper or sumpin', huh?") Kohs measured bfadder pressure. He discovered that I 1 : I 2 :: P 1 : P2 or I 1 = P1 s-- p2 He also discovered a time relationship,· such that I 1 : 12 is inversely proportional to T 1 : T 2, where T is roughly denoted as the ability to postpone lavatory trips. THE COMBINED LAWS: Kohs took the further step of mathematically combining the two laws. This is done in this way: multiplying Bowel's Law by K, the individual alcoholic saturation constant, then dividing through by R, the price per can of beer in question, then multiplying by Chartle's Law, and finally taking an ex-officio proportion with the first expression, we obtain the expression pl T 1 = p2 T2 = Z, Il I2 where Z is the mathematical probability of losing one's supper, starting at 1: 1 and approaching infinity. To use the law for other than beer, one must determine one's -18- This is not entirely true, unfortunately. There are several variable factors affecting this osmotic pressure. The first is the phenomenon of anti -phototropism. That is, mass units are driven away from light with a velocity proportional to number of watts of light-power, and inversely proportional to the squares of their distance. This law allowed for a very interesting experiment by Kohs: he put 30 mass units into a room with no exits, and whose walls were brilliantly lit with floodlights from Naval Ordinance. True to the law, the mass units began moving back and forth, colliding with one another and gaining velocity until all mass units save one were unconscious. With on one left to bump into, the final mass unit continued accelerating until he approached the speed of light and shrank out of existence. We might note that Kohs has since become extremely claustrophobic, especially in well-lit elevators. Kohs also has a number of GI Joe outfits in his dresser; he is a careful man. The final result of the anti -phototropism phenomenon is that, in determinations of party area volume, we must use calculus to subtract a certain area due to electric lights. Another factor is inebriation, of course. The laws of anti -phototropism and the laws governing velocity of expelled particles (mass units) tend to break down as the mass units imbibe more and more. COMBINING PROPORTIONS: Another interesting phenomenon, combining proportions, allows us to treat mass units in pairs, or triplets, or worse. Mass units tend to combine in a one-to-one ratio, , and usually male to female (we must assume the notion of male-fed9- �male to be intuitive at worst; we must also note that there are those parties where they - but perhaps more of this in a later report). These combinations, or compounds, affect the laws in various ways. For example, the anti -phototropic effect becomes equal to the square of the sum of their individual effects. Also, these compounds take up less area than the area of two mass units; and toward the end of a poorly lit party, they may virtually be treated as a single mass unit for purposes of calculation. Moreover, compounds interfere with determinations of osmotic pressure, since their tendency to gravitate away from the party is greater by an indeterminable amount. An effect similar to that in the tragic anti -phototropism experiment was achieved by placing equal numbers of male and female mass units of known (standard) combining proportions into a sealed room. The lights were turned out to eliminate the anti -phototropic effect, but the net effect was approximately the same, the mass units accelerating and colliding into unconsciousness. The last couple was rescued with great difficulty, and Kohs managed to halt their shrinkage at about two feet. DANCING: A phenomenon which Kohs has thus far completeiy failed to relate to mathematical laws is dancing. It seems to be totally uni que in the universe, and completely unconnected with other physical phenomena. Kohs is currently working on the theory that it is Psychosomatic Brownian Motion on the macroscopic level. He is now abroad studying lemmings, to lend support to his theory. THE CULT OF SOTT: For those interested in joining the cult of Sott, services are held in the Chase-Stone Common Room every Saturday night. Kohs is high priest in charge of sanctification and inebriation. Membership is BYOL. After an invocation of Sott, Kohs will lead the members in the Actualization of the laws. ****** White to move and mate in four. - - Richard Hamblen -20- (,) Alle1 .... n OU - " " ' . .. - ·- ~ I -'~'w -- - ~ .. ~ r : ~- ~ ~ .. - n ~~ kA v ~ .. ,,..- ~ a• - r ��_,.-- I !. I �I a dedication and a plea for my Father' for my Mother for my Brother for building my eyes to see as they do. for the children who come after so they might know too. for the damn need that made me write this thing. for everyone who understands .•. or can ... and will. The Actors - - Michael Bridge act 1: the subtle God Croesus sticks his shaved, pink head out of the left wing and glares for a startled moment into the audience. He looks across to the right wing, draws his head back out of sight and whispers: Croesus: Demaratus: They're here! They're here! Demaratus sticks his shaved, pink head out of the right wing, sees the audience and quickly draws a stunned face back out of sight. Croesus: What should we do? Demaratus: I didn't think they'd come. Croesus: They said they'd come. We should have believed. Demaratus: How could we believe? Croesus: We should have believed. We should have prepared. Demaratus: How could we have known? We couldn't have known. A long silence. Demaratus makes the first move. He moves confidently out onto the stage. When he stands alone facing the audience in the middle of the stage, he gives Croesus a cold glance. Croesus moves timidly out to join him in the middle of the stage. They're dressed in short, gray, not unmasculine robes. Dem., (To audience): Hello. Cro., (To audience): Hello. Dem. and Cro., (In unison): I'm sorry. (Stop, look at each other, smile and continue) We're sorry ... but we didn't think you'd come. Cro.: We thought you'd have found it by now. Dem. : So you wouldn't have to come to us . Cro. : But here you are. Dem. : Still looking. ,Cro. : Still waiting. -27- �~ ~· i I I I I Dem. : For God knows what. pathetically toward the left wing.) Please wait. Don't leave me. The flood! The flood! Uncomfortable silence. Cro.: We didn't expect. •.. (silence) Dem., (From behind him): Croesus! Dem.: We thought. ... (silence) Cro. stops, looks suspiciously around; slowly, very suspiciously looks up, sees no one, ponders. Cro., (To Dem.): They're looking at us. They're looking. Dem. : Here, Croesus. Dem.: We should have been prepared. Cro., (Turning sharply): You! Cro.: We should do something. We can't just stand here. Dem. : I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. . . I forgot. Dem.: We should have ... Cro. : No. I deserved it. Cro., (Interrupting, brightens with an idea): We could get undressed. Dem. : I should have been more subtle. Dem.: They wouldn't understand. Cro., (Despair): No ... they wouldn't. A silence. Cro. brightens with another idea, runs quickly off into the left wing and hurries back with a chocolate cream pie. He beams into the audience, approaches Demaratus and mashes it in his face. Dem. stands unmoved. Cro. beams into the audience, looks at Dem. and stops beaming. ,! ' Cro. : You should have left me. Dem. : I should have. Cro.: And now I'm wounded. Dem., (Approaching): Can you stand? Cro. :, (Drawing back): You stay from me. Cro., (To Dem. ): I 'rri sorry. I forgot. Dem., (Extending his hand): Here. Take my hand. Dem., (Hostile): I should leave you. Cro.: Stay away! Stay away! Cro. : No! Don't leave me! I wouldn't know what to do. See what you've done? (To audience) Dem.: Why are you frightened? Take my hand! (Defensive): I'm not frightened! I. .. I. .. I don't want your Dem., (To Cro. ): You did it. Cro., pity. Cro. : But they made me. Dem.: Would you rather a crutch? Dem. : Get me a towel. Cro., (Crawling toward the right wing): I'll get my own. Cro. hurries obediently into the left wing and returns with a towel. He stands two arm lengths away from Dem., holding out the towel. Dem., (Hurring past him): I'll get it for you. the left wing). Where should I look? (He disappears into Cro.: Here. Cro. : Just bring anything. A chair. I'll use a chair. Dem., (Extending his hand but not his arm, so Cro. must come near): Put it in my hand. Dem. : Anthing in the closet? Cro. approaches hesitant andfrightened. When the towel touches Dem. 's hand, he lashes out with a kick that catches Cro. full in the shin. Cro. stands unmoved for a few moments, looks at his foot and collapses. Dem. cleans up with the towel, then sees Cro. lying there. There's a loud crash and clatter in the left wing. Cro. drops his head in despair. Dem. walks on carrying five crutches. Dem.: Croesus! Croesus! What have I done? (Coldly to audience) It's your fault. Cro., (Feigning indifference): I used to collect them. Cro.: NO! NOT THE CLOSET! Dem.: You have a closet full of crutches. Dem. : Let's see which one will fit. He runs quickly into the right wing and returns with a pail of water which he empties over Cro. 's head. Cro. sits up, startled, frightened. Dem. : One will fit better than the rest. Cro.: The flood! The flood! The waters are upon us? To the ark! The.: ARK! (He starts up but collapses on his injured shin. He crawls Dt::;m. , (Extending a small crutch): Here. -28- Cro. : They won't fit anymore! They won't ! Cro. : They won't fit. -29- '' '' �,,. Cro. receives it and uses it to get to short to get him past his knees. his knees. It's too Dem., (Extending a larger crutch): Here. Dem., (Pondering): Why will they think you're acting? Cro.: I don't know how to act on a crutch. I've never ... Cro. stands with it, but not straight. It's too short. Cro.: They won't fit! They won't fit! Dem. : One will fit better than the rest. Cro.: Will I be conspicuous? (Extending another) Here. The crutch is too tall. He loses his balance and starts to fall. Dem. catches him. Cro. supports himself with the taller crutch while Dem. retrieves the one just disgarded. He gives it to Cro. Highly agitated, Dem. pushes the crutch into Cro's hand, knocking him off balance. Cro. clutches the crutch and use it to keep from falling. He looks pathetically to Dem, beckoningly to the audi ence, curiously down at the crutch. He hobbles a few clumsy steps, stops and looks to Dem. Cro. : ConvinCing? Dem.: I'm convinced. Dem. : This one will have to do. Cro.: I don't look like I'm acting? Cro.: I told you. Dem.: I said I'm convinced. Dem.: At least you're standing. Cro.. : Stooped. Dem., (Agitated): But standing! Dem. yanks the crutch away from Cro. leaving him to balance himself on one leg. · Cro. : Maybe I should let my foot touch the ground. Then I can show the pain. (He does so and hobbles with great pain). Is my limp enough? Dem.: You're ungrateful! You don't know how to receive! Dem.: Is there so much pain? Cro.: You don't know what to give! Cro., (Anxious): Does there seem to be? Dem., (Highly agitated): If you don't want the crutch, say so. Dem.: You look very painful. Cro.: It won't help my foot. It might hurt my back. I , Dem.: (Agitated}: Does it matter what they think? Cro.: It's not good for my back. I'll get curvature of the spine. I Cro.: I don't want to be too convincing. convince them. They'll think I'm trying to Cro. : Good. (Silence) Dem. : It will help your walking. Dem., (Suspicious): Are you acting? Cro.: Yes ••• my walking. Cro., (Pondering): I'm not sure. Dem.: Unless you'd rather lie there. Dem., (Agitated): Do you feel natural? Cro.: I'd feel more natural. My foot will heal. Cro., (Anxious): I'm not sure! Dem. : It could take a long time. Dem, (Demanding): Are you acting? Cro.: It's my decision! Cro., (Confused): I'm not sure! I'm not sure! (Pause) I think I'm being natural. (Pause) Maybe I'm a natural actor. Dem. , (Extending the· crutch to Cro. ): Your decision. Cro., (Drawing back, cringing): I could crawl. Dem.: You could walk. Dem. yanks the crutch away from Cro. and throws him sprawling to the floor . Dem.: You don't deserve a crutch! Cro. : I just want to be natural! Dem. , (Extending the crutch further): Be natural. Cro., (Hesitant): I. .. I don't want them to think I'm acting. Dem. : Does it matter what they think? Cro.: I don't want them to think I'm acting. Silence. Dem. unconsciously fits the crutch under his arm and hobbles a step with it. He stops, looks anxiously into the audience and throws the crutch back to Cro. Dem. : Take your crutch! Cro. points an accusing finger delightedly at Dem. Dem. glares back. Cro. smiles. He stands again with the crutch and practices Dem., (Withdrawing the crutch): So crawl! Grovel! -30.1 -31- �-- 1 j his hobbling. He smiles at Dem. between each painful step. Dem. turns away. Dem, (Scorn): He thinks he's an actor. Cro. hobbles anxiously over to Dem. Cro.: You're talking about me! You are! I know you are! Dem.: Ha! ..• that you should be worth talking>about. Cro.: It's in my foot. Dem. : Take another ·step. Eyes closed, mouth taut and quivering, he takes another step, then another. He stops, opens his eyes, relaxes, smiles, takes another step and collapses. Dem.: You're weak! You're weak! Cro.: I tried! I tried! (Despair) I tried. Cro., (fo audience): What did he say? What did he say? Iknowwhat he said. He said I'm acting, that's what he said. Dem. : Not enough. You didn't try hard enough. Dem.: I did not. Cro.: But the pain! Cro.: What did he say? Dem.: Leave them out of this! They don't know yet. Dem.: Pain shmain. You didn't try hard enough. Cro., (To Dem. ): What did you tell them? Dem., (Extending the crutch): Do you want the crutch? Dem. : I told them you think you' re an actor. Cro., (Reaching for it): If you would ••. (He changes his mind; withdraws his hand. ) No. I'd rather not. Cro.: You told them I think I'm an actor. Dem. : An actor ... you think. Cro.: I didn't have enough faith. Dem., (Fitting the crutch under his arm): Then I'll •.. (He turns to the audience) Would.you mind? Cro.: And you don't think I can act. Dem.: I've seen better actors in ..• in ..• in •.. I'm unconvinced. Dem.: No. They won't mind. (He hobbles across the stage.) Cro.: Then I'll convince you. Cro.: You hobble well. Dem. : Convince me. Dem., (Stops): Thank you. Cro.: What should I do? (Pause) I know! Cro. straightens up and throws the crutch arrogantly to Dem. Cro. : You should be an actor. Cro.: They won't mind. Dem. : My life's ambition. Dem., (Catching it): But your crutch! Cro., (Balancing his weight on both feet): The mark of the true actor! Dem.: My foot. Dem. : But your foot! Cro. : Your foot? Cro.: Oh •.• the pain. Dem.: You can't! You mustn't! Your foot! Dem.: It's been like this for twelve years. (Pause) I was playing Romeo in summer stock. A full house. The audience was wild about me. Twenty armed guards to hold them back. Cro., (Eyes closed, mouth taut, takes a step): Oh ••• the pain. l can't go on! I can't! Dem., (Watching closely, anxiously): Of course you can! I know you can. Cro.: Something holding you back? Cro.: Your foot? Dem. : She knocked the flower pot off the balcony. Crushed my foot. If the audience laughs, he gives them a dirty look. Cro.: I can. I can. You know I can. Cro. : What a shame. Dem. : Have faith. Cro.: Faith ... faith ... (fakes a quivering step and another.) Dem. : I got a standing ovation. Cro. : As they carried you off the field of glory. Dem. : You' re doing fine. Now another. Dem. : My most cherished moment. Cro., (Standing still): Oh ... the pain. Cro. : And now this. Dem.; It's in your head. Dem. : The end of a great career. -32- -33- �r Cro. : Tragic end. Dem. : And now this. Cro. : And now this. Dem. : At least there's still an audience. (Stunned, he looks up and sees the audience. He tries to take another step but collapses. Cr:tjT esus jumps up and hurries to his aid.) act 2: the obtrusive God The lights come on. Croesus sticks his shaved pink head out of the left wing, sees the audience and quickly draws it back. Cro.: Demaratus! They're still here! They're still here! Dem., (Unseen): No! Cro. : See for yourself. Cro.: Are you hurt? Dem., (Victorious): Ah ha! Your foot! Your foot! Demaratus sticks his shaved pink head out of tbe right wing <tnd quickly draws it back. Cro., (Confused): YOUR foot! Dem., (Heckling): ai ... the pain ... the pain. I can't go OJJ. ••• I can't4 Dem ..: They 're still here! Cro. : They want more? Cro. : But I thought you knew ..• Dem.: Must be. Dem.: To be ... or not to be ... Cro~ Cro., (Agitated): Stop heckling! Dem.: The play! Dem. : Heckle, heckle, heckle, heckle. Cro., (Frightened): No! Not the play! Cro. : You repulse me. Dem., (Stops laughing, angry): A small act like that. . . and couldn't even remember ... Dem. : They '11 kill us! you Cro. : I thought you needed help ... Dem.: What good are you. You can't even remember to act. Cro. : But I thought you knew ... Demaratus continues his annoying laughter. Croesus glares at him, then attacks and kicks him with all his might, full in the shin. Stunned, Demaratus stands unmoved for a few moments. He looks at his foot and collapses. The lights go out. end act 1. : Shall we give them? Dem.: We're ready to die for the truth! Cro.: We are? Dem .. , (With finality): The play! Cro., (Conceding): The play. (Pause) Demaratus? Dem.; Yes? Cro.: In ••• case this is ... the end ... I want to apologize for ... Dem.: No need. It wasn't your fault. couldn't have been any other way. It wasn't anyone's fault. It Cro., (Pondering): No other way... (Pause) Demaratus? Dem.: Yes? Cro. : One more thing. thank you. (Silence. Dem. looks at Cro. ) I wanted to Dem.: Yes? Cro.: Thank you very much for my camel. All the lights go out. Thirty seconds of golden darkness pass before Demaratus is illuminated in the middle of the stage. His is the only light. The rest of the stage is dark. A large white robe lies at his feet. Dem., (Beckoning): I have no hair. I have no face; only eyes ... and oceans fill them. Who will refuse to see that I have no face'? Who will see only my eyes? (He lowers his head in despair. Silence. ) Dem., (Lifts his head, indifferent): -34- -35- You starve a rat ... and you put �:I' him in one of those Skinner Boxes where you build neurotic rats .... and you give him a food pellet every time he pushes the little metal bar in the box ..• and he'll learn bar-pressing pretty fast. He'll keep right on bar-pressing, too. 'Till he's not hungry anymore. 'Till he's full. You starve a kid for love ... and you bury him in dark Seas of affection every time he eats his liver and spinach ... and he'll learn food-eating pretty fast. He'll keep right on food-eating too. Keep on filling his stomach until he's got a full heart and full soul. You show fear to a kid .•. and then you show him how to build walls between his eyes and the things he's scared of. .. and he'll learn wall -building pretty fast. He'll keep on wall -building, too. 'Till the things he's scared of are gone ... or 'till the walls shut out the air and the sun and enclose his tomb. These are the things we learn ... aren't they? We learn to do the things that get us what we need: things that get us full stomachs, full hearts and steady, tmscared eyes. And as long as doing the things we do keeps getting us the things we need, we keep doing the things we do ... Don't we? That's how we are ... Aren't we? That's what we're made of ..• isn't it ... a lot of bar-presses, a helluva' lot of liver and spinach ... and walls . He picks up the white robe at his feet. Dem., (While putting it on): Last night was cold ... and I leftthe window open. The aquarium was near the window and the small turtle was stiff and still when I awoke. I looked with terror and feltutter contempt for myself. In blindness I had caused him suffering. I lifted him in my hand and held him near my mouth. I cupped my hands around him and breathed warm breath on his unmoving form. My heart was filled when I felt vague motion in my hand. And now there he sits ... alone ... on the rock in the aquarium. (Putting on the full white beard and head-piece). I knew then that I would be the God of this play. i, 1: peace. Only in humility to the magnificence of my force willst th be raised. (threatening) In glory ... my wrath shall bring thee in~~ the light of my goodness •.. as willst thou be defeated and. beaten into the dust. (more force) For my glory is the only glory. My dominion endureth forever. (pause) Thus sayeth the Lord thy God. He opens hi~ arms to the heavens. Thunder resounds through the theater. A brief, but great flash of light from behind God illumi nates all for a moment. He returns his arms to his side. The calm returns. God: Stand and face thy God. Croesus is illuminated. He's lying quivering on the floor. God: Why doest thou quiver so? Why doest thou lie bent and ravaged before me? Stand ... so that I may see thee. Hesitating, quivering, Croesus stands. his feet, his back to God. His eyes are fixed on God: Turn. Let me see thy face. Croesus tries to turn, but can't. His quivering intensifies. He seems about to collapse. God: My_ str_ength be in thee. My hands be out to thee. (Croesus stops qun'."ermg and looks confusedly into the audience.) Lift thine eyes to mme. Standest thou straight and with dignity before thy God. Croesus slowly, suspic_iously raises his eyes to meet the eyes of God. When they meet, his form suddenly straightens and stands unmoving. Cro.: A man? (pause) A man! God: I am God. Cro.: I'm a man. Find the difference if you can. ! When all is in place, he turns and take three steps back from the audience. Here he encounters Croesus lying curled-up on the floor. Demaratus stops, ponders Croesus for a few moments, then steps over him. He continued back into the stage, the light following him. Croesus' form disappears in the dark. He stops and raises his arms. The light goes out. After seven seconds, it comes back on. He's on a raised platform, facing the audience with raised arms. He lowers arms and head. · God, (To everyone and to Hi;mself): I am the Lord thy GOO. Thou art man, the ultimate of my glorious creation; for in thee have I imbued the image of my own glorious being. Thy life and being are my gift. Thy meaning and worth are in thy recognition of the wonder of my gift. Thy lasting comfort and security are in thy continued gratitude in recognition of the benevolence and munificence of my gift. (more force) I am thy Father; thou are my child. I am thy King; thou art my subject. My will is the force which drivest thee and movest thee to act. Only in servitude to my will canst thou know -36- God: Only as a man canst thou see me .. so thus do I reveal myself to thee. Cro., (Suspicious): Only as a man? God: Only as a man. Cro. : The only way? Dem.: The only way. Cr~· : And ~ice live '.111-d die ... the rich ones and the poor ones ... all of em l~okmg for a httl~ thing called immortality (aside to the aud.) that ~hey re all sure they re gonna get with a little patience. But they all die '.111-yway.; .in the ,end. (pause) All because they can't see their feet while they re tryin to grab hold of a sun that's too far away for them to reach. (To God) I'M GOD! qua, qua, qua, qua. God: Take st thou my hand. Thou wilt find comfort in my being. Cr,o., (Frightened, drawing back from God's extended hand): In inno-37- �-r I 1 I I cence the children looked up and beheld the face of God who was their Father. For the light came down from above and their eyes sought· the source of the light. And their Father hid the Sun from the eyes of his children, for he covered a great area and his children's eyes were small. And the area of their Father shadowed their eyes from the Sun •.. and behold they saw that their Father was the Sun and the Stm was God ... and God was the source. And the children knew not their Father's source, for He told them not •.. and neither did He know. And their Father raised up His children in His hands and showed them His glorious face and wonderous power. And terror filled their hearts that they 13hould be in the hands of so powerful a being. And yet there was comfort in their knowledge that He was their Father ..• and that His strength was with them in the weakness they could but feel next to His great strength. So they glorified their Father and made Him a God. And they looked at the God they had made and saw that He was their Father. And the children felt strong, for their strength was in the glory of their Father .•. and they had made His glory to be a great glory. And because He was their Father, they were close to Him and they could feel some of His glory as their own. Cro., (Despair): lhenJ must be .•. But no! I know you not as God! I know you not as judge! You mustn't judge until you're known as judge. I don't even have to listen.· · · God: Knowest thou Iiot thy God? Cro.: I·recogriize the face ... but I can't quite place ••. God: Recognition will suffice. Cro. : I need not know you. to take your word as truth? God: Canst thou_ know thy God? My word must be taken as truth. Cro.• : But I look at you and see a man! Can't I know the man I see? God: In so far as thou art me. My image is in man. In you! Cro.: Then I can know you! God: As thyself. Cro. : Myself? God: My image is in thee. Know thyself and know my iniage. Cro., (Bothered): But I seek your ESSENCE, not your image. God: Thou canst Nar look upon my essence·! · God: T AKEST TI-IOU MY HAND! Croesus cringes and draws back frightened. Cro., (Spite): Then I WILL question your words. God: Blind arrogance. God: Mad. Cro.: qua, qua, qua, qua. God: MADI Cro.: Blind! I can't know what I can't see. words. Cro.: Mad? God: But thy reason is a fallen reason. God: Mad. Cro.: Ca,n yo:u not Cro.: Mad ••. mad .•• mad. Always mad. _Perhaps if I showed you more? Can't be... Always ... I MUST question your pe ~o~ with reason? God: Only Purest.reason. Reason thou hast never known. Cro.: But I'm God! qua, qua, qua. Surely you can't doubt •.• God: I have seen all. Cro.: :&t there's more. rest. You'll see more clearly when you know the God: My eyes are clear. They know not distortation. God: THAT THOU ART MAD! (pause) Thou art a man. Cro.: So I'm a man:. God: Can man be God? Cro.: But you judged me mad! Cro.: Why not man? Is there a law? God: That was my judgement. Gcid: Thou art my creation. Cro.: As God is my judge? Cro.: So God made man. (pause) Is there a law? God: As God is thy judge. God: If I made thee, can i be a.man? Cro.: But how can I be sure? I must know. I must be sure. Cro.: Why not! (longer pause) Is there a law? God: That thou art mad? God: Can I be both man ... and man's maker? Cro.: WHY NOf? Cro. : That you 're God and I'm not. God: I am thy Godl truth. I am thy judge! -38- My word is truth! No less than God: Then man made man. -39- �,.- 1l I ·1 'I' ! Cro., (Delighted): Man made man! Man made man! God: And man was before man was. Cro., (Not hearing God's last step, pondering over the fo7'11er): Man made man ... man made man ... God ..• man. (pause) And if man made man ... (pause) and God is man ... (excited) then man made God! God: Then thou seest that thou canst not be God. Cro., (Great despair): Oh. (pause) It's not fair! Cro.: Why can't; I be God? You always get to be God! It's no fair! (pause, despair) It's no fair, .. God: Perhaps to seek to be thyself rather than thy God. Cro.: Be myself? Cro •.: Father ••• Father ••• (pause) NO! DON'T HIT MEI (crumbling on the couch) Please! Please don't hit me again! (He cries. God gently touches his head With his hand and he becomes calm.) God, (Pause): Thy Father. cro.: My Father was a hairy ape. He beat me with the jawbone of an ass. God: Didst thou not obey? God: 'Then why?· Cro.: He needed something to balance himself on. (despair) He was unbalanced. (silence) Afraid! Scared! God: Of his God? Cro. : Of thunder· and lightening. Of fire and hairy elephants. Saber tooth tigers, pterodactyls, brontosauruses, tyrannossauruses ••• God: Be thyself. Cro. : And I will be my God? God: I so far as I am in thee. (Silence) God, (Facetious): Thou must know more years than thy looks seem to merit. Cro.: Where should I start? Cro.: Just a good memory.. I have a good memory. God, (Suspicious): To seek thyself? God, ·(Suspicious pause): So thy Father knew fear. Cro. : To seek myself. Cro. : And he balanced his fear by making us as scared of him as he was of the things he was scared of. (pause) He balanced his unbal ancing would by unbalancing us. (longer pause) He snarled like a saber tooth, roared like a tyrannossaurus, struck like a· swooping pterodactyl. God: Closest thou thine eyes. Thou wilt see. Cro.: Close my eyes? And see? God: Close thine eyes. Tell me what thou seest. Cro., (Eyes closed): I see •.. I see ... the insides of my eyelids! God: Turn thine eyes inward! being. Lookest thou upon the essence of thy Cro., (Eyes closed): It's all black and empty. God gestures and a light comes on illuminating a couch with a glorious chair at its head next to Cro .. ! ' I Cro.: I was afraid not to. God: An injustice? I I .•1 God: He became the forces he feared. Cro.: The personification. It balanced him. God: And he unbalanced thee. Cro.: He beat me! (despair) He beat me. The lights go out. The voice of Dem. is heard. Cro., (Pause); My Father? Dem.: Poor unbalanced kids. Poor children of Fathers. The great unfree. The manipulated and possessed. All the world's a stage and we're moved by strings. And all the strings are tied to one hand. Whose hand? God's hand? Man's hand? Whose hand? His? Mine? WHOSE? (pause) How long before the hand falls.? Then what's gonna' keep us up? Our feet? We don't have our feet! It'll have to be something else if the hand falls. Our feet aren't strong enough. (silence) Poor unbalanced kids. Poor children of Fathers. (Croesus and God are reilluminated. ) God: Thy Father. God: And didst thou not seek balance in the unbalance he caused? God: Lie down. Tell me what thou .seest. When Cro. lies down, God decends from his platform and sits in the great chair. He crosses his legs. Cro.: Where should I start? God: Search out thy roots .•. and look upon them. Cro. : Father ••. Father ••. Father •.. Cro.: Balance. I did. With hate. Balance fear with hate. And hate dreams. I'd kill him ... and eat him ••. in every sleep ••• in every dream. I was a dreainer. God: Thy Father. -40- -41- 'I !· ·1 I' Ii · �iii I 'I' " Ir: Cro.: The dogs too. God:, Thy dreaJns? Thy hate?. ~ • balani::ed thee with the ~Jitll,er? . - ' . ': . f ~ . ~ Cro.: 'Balanced! '(she~pi~h) A little. Not _en.;>ilgh. fllot ~eall)d (p ) But with myselfi Tuey balanced me with myself ••• so cou : be:s:iyself in the unbal~ce he caused. (pause) They made my mbalance more bearaple. · God: And didst thou not seek balance with the Father?.• .being bal~ anced with thyself? w(ggd Cro.: Balance. With my Father. I did. (sil~nc~) Wi~~f~ 1 built a new world. A world that I could be the F . . . . : . H · · s cold glance Cro turns and sees it. e gives Cro. a susp1c1ou '. • ldl I built itl It was my crebecomes defensive.) I did! A new war · · · . · . · . d) 1 ationl (pause then sheepish) t started a rock collection (inspire. built ·a world ~frocks I And I. .. was the F~er o~oc~ip,~~~eg~~~~ him another stare.) I did! I collected roe s. ey . . h 1 et It was ood to forget. J could dream. ~ c_ould be free w en• ~auid forget; g Ru,nning in tall grass and fJowers:w1th bare feet. ,mue skies and fluffy white clouds. Free. , God: Then forgetting bal~ced thee with thy Father? Cro.: Until I cou~d no longer forget. Until he ate ffiY, 1'.0cks). Js?ae~:~ God glares at Cro.) He did! He ate my rocks~ (pause.. e. J~e:i:J. ~: fuar::1~wi~~~r~~~Yb~~i7e0£::: PY~:dt~!~~unc~~;~ !ffai~y elephants to make it across _the clearing into th~ cave. . .. e. ar~~ made ·it back with his skins. .(pause) An unbalancing .exp:~:Usm. had to b.alance himself on spmething. (pause) · Amazing . . • God: Then thy balance was gone. Cro.: My rocks were gone. (pause) But there were always yo~:fe children. I could always balance myself on them.· (pause) brats. God: As thy Father had balanced himself on thee? . Cro · It was the only way I knew. I foamed it from him •. · (G°?. gla~es hard ·at Cro.) I snarled like a s.econd-hand saber to?th ••• roar.ed like a sick elephant ••• struck like a blind, can~. Learmng takes tune· ' God:· Then they, too, were unbalanced:. Cro. : They had no choice. in the niatter. (pause) It (pause) Iha.cl to balance myself .. _ · , ·. was the only way.• God: ··Then they hated thee_ •.• and feared ·thee,. , The,y dr.eame d• · Cto.': As I hated and feared my father: (pa~se) Dreams of me. They called my name m their sleep. too~ God: And the children? c .~ On; each other; Ttiey"balanced themselves on each other. They f~ht ~ (pause)., And_ dog~._ , They kicked dogs· . , · · · --12- / Dem. : POor confused dogs. Nothing they could balance themselves on. Tuey tried bones. They possessed bones. Manipulated bones. Built worlds of bones and hid them where they couldn't be touched. Under the ground. Cats and squirrels, too. Struck terror into the hearts of cats and squirrels. It was all they could do. (pause) To keep balariced. olle of the children kicked too much .. Little savage. Littlest savage. Kicked so much that the dogs ha.cl to eat him to keep from exploding. It kept them from exploding. · · The other children saw the remains .•• and terror filled their hearts. They couldn't be unbalanced by the things they balanced them selves ort .•• so all they could do was get as much of their balance back as they could. · So they ate two of the dogs. To get back some of their balance. Couldn't get enough of it back though •.• because they remembered. Re.membered the one the dogs had eaten. They coulc:ln'~ forget •.. so a new fear was with them. A new fear to balance. ·(pause) The dogs started it. (pause) Poor confused dogs. (God and Cro. are relit.) God: But they feared the children! Cro.: Strength in numbers. They still knew fear. (pause) The dogs picked one of the_m. The littlest one. They caught him alone. (silence) The rest of the children saw his remains and they saw the dogs. Terror filled their hearts. Their balance was leaving them. (silence) s,o they l;lad to :re-unbalance the dogs. Get as much of their balance back as they could. So they ate two of the dogs. (silence) It wasn't enough though. They couldn't get enough of their balance back. They remembered the on~ the dogs had eaten. (pause) Their feet stayed with them ••. and they had a new fear to balance •.• because they remembered. (SILENCE) So they turned back on me. (pause) As the dogs had turned back op them. Th~y learned it from the dogs. God: Bufthey feared thee! Could they?•.• Cro. : ' Fe~ didn't. stop the dogs. (pause) A whole pack of them. Strength in numbers. The children had numbers too. A whole pack of them. Their numbers moved them past their fear. · God: But thy balance! Cro.: Pushed the same path. (silence) My Father •. It had to be. There was uo one else. No place else to turn. God: THY FATHER! (despair) Thy Father. Cro., (Frightened and defensive)~ pack of them. The children were too many. A -43- 1 f:' Cro.: The dogs started it. (silence) The big turn. (silence) They were up against a wall. The bottom of the balancing scale. Nothing the could balance themselves on. (silence) So all they could do was turn. Back. On the children. whol~ God: The dogs too? ·'' :J Lights go out. 1he voice of Dem. is heard •. .. • : 1;11 1111 :11 .ii II. �,1:' IiI I' I I. II I God: Couldst thou not have eaten ..• (He stops) Cro. : They had a strong leader. They made him strong with backing. They told him he was strong and he believed. He had backing. I only had myself. I was afraid. I wouldn't have had a chance. God: BUT THY FATHER! Cro.: I had to choose my lesser fear. (silence) My Father was old and weak. I had grown strong. I had passed him on the way up and left him far behind. (silence) He was afraid of me. I saw it in his eyes. (pause) He hadn't beat me for a long time. (silence) If his was glory, mine could be no less than glory. God: But thou didst see him Nar in glory, but as a fallen man. l Cro. : Still there was glory in my memory. I remembered his glory. I remembered him when he was unmoving; when I had called him God and felt his strength as my own. (silence) And now he had moved. No longer unmoving. His bowels had shifted and I saw him as.a man. (silence, then agitated) So where was my strength? His unmoveableness had been my strength .•. AND HE HAD MOVED. God: Where was thy strength? Cro.: In my memory. My memory of my Father when he was llllmoving to me. (silence) And he was destroying that memory .•• by becoming old and weak and frightened. He was destroying my memory and my memory was my strength. He was destroying my strength. I had to kill him. God: Had to kill him. Cro.: Had to kill him •.• so he could live ..• as my God. Killed him as a man so he could live as my God. And I need my God to live. My God was my strength. I needed my strength. (silence) And he lived. As my God. An image of my Father. An image built from memory. God: Thy FATHER! Thy FATHER! An image of thy Father! Cro.: My Father. But I remembered him. As my God. God: Then his image lived. !~ I Cro.: As the source of my strength. It continued to give me strength. Enough strength to become their Father. (God gives him a cold glance) They needed a Father. They needed his strength. Being near great strength madethem feel strong; so they made my strength great. God: Thou art the SON OF THE FATHER! Could they? .•. They must have known. Cro.: My victory over my Father was a glorious one. I made it a good show. I ate him ... so his glory would be in me. (silence) And they saw my meal. I made sure they were all there to see ••• so they'd know what was in me. (silence) So they made me their Father. (A cold glance from God) I was the only one who knew the part well enough. I was the only one with enough glory. I was the only one who -44- I I God: In fear? Cro.: I was no Father. God: To sit on thy Father's throne makes thee no Father. Cro. : And I was afraid they'd see my fear; see that I wasn't their Father.. (pau~e) As I had seen my Father's fear. (silence) I knew they d kill me 1~ they saw. (pause) But they wouldn't see. They needed me to be their Father so they wouldn't see me as anything else. God: Then thy fear left thee. 1 Cro.: My fear never left. (pause) I always knew that I was no Fath I had to be afraid. I could never be sure they wouldn't see me. er. God: Couldst thou be their Father in fear? Cro.: I balanced my fear. The less I felt like the Father I remembered, the more I acted like him. (pause) I over-acted (silence) It balanced me! Their need •.. and my over-acting. · God: And when their need was gone? ~ro. : . Their nee_d ~tayed with them for a long time. (pause) By the time 1t le~, I didn t have to act anymore. (Suspicious glance from God) They d made me forget that I wasn't their Father. God: But it was an ACT! Cro.: I acted as I had to act. I acted as they needed me to act It wasn't an act! It was all I knew. I was me! ·· God: It was not thee! It was what they made thee! Cro.: Wh_i~h was me! (pause) •.• after they 1d made me. (silence) So they glorified me and made me their Father. (pause) and I gave them the strength and comfort that only a glorified Father could give (sil ence) '.fhey made me glorious and unmoving. I BECAME glorio~s and urunovmg. God; Bl.IT THOU WOULDST MOVE! THOU ART MAN! Cro.: I stayed still. They moved. I commanded. They moved. (pause) Together we renewed our Father's image in me. God, (In distant thought): The glory of an image ... Cro · : So they s~rved me and glorified me. It made them strong. Theymademe their God .•• so their strength would be unmoving. God, (Hostile, demanding): THEIR GOD? Cro ·, (Frightened, defensive): So their strength would be unmoving. God: COULD THEY NOT HAVE SERVED THEE AS MAN? Cro.: That would have made them less than men. Tlwv wouldrl't be les~ than men ••• (Pause) so they made me their God. · -45- i I had kill:d h~. (silence) So there I sat .•. on the throne of my Father ... shaking like a leaf. ! /' 1/ 1. !1! I, :1 I I �T J 'I I God gestures and the lights go out. Demaratus speaks. Dem.: So they glorified their Father and made him a God. And they said, "See this glorious God? He's our Father." And the children of the Father knew a great strength as their own ••. for his glory was their strength ••• and they had made his glory to be a great glory. And because he was their Father, they were close to him; •• and they felt some of his glory to be as their own. (God and Cro. are reilluminated.) , God: The children feared thee not? Cro. : Feared me. not .• I was good to them. God: But the others feared thee and worshiped thee as their God: Cro.: And they beat their chfldren for not doing the same. Go.d: But the children knew thee not as God. Cro.: A God can't be challenged. Cro. : So they were beaten for not doing something that wasn't in them to do, (silence) So they hated and feared the others for beating them unjustly .•. And they hated me for not stopping the beating. They knew I was the Qnly one who could stop the beating. God: THOU ART MAN! God: Why didst thou not stop the beating? Cro.: They saw Iioman in me. I covered my face ·with the head of a saber tooth; my skin with its skin. · Cro.: The others were afraid of me •.• and they had to balance. their fear. If I had taken away their balance, they would have turned. I remembered when I had turned on my Father. (silence) The others were to, strong •.• too many. I was afraid of them and I thought my fear would have shown if I had interfered. l couldn't let my fear be seen ... because I remembered what I had donewhen I saw my Father's fear. · God: C.ouldst thou go .as God? Unchallenged as God? God: They must have seen! Cro. : I was see~ on my throne cir I wa~n \ seen.•. · God: But thy women! Cro.: My women saw. (pause) They wouldn't tell though ••• because they enjoyed being.the women of a God. God, (Despair): They told not. t. f ~ I Cro.: One told. (pause). She was young and wanted to lay often. There were many women and I was getting old .•• so I couldn't lay often with. any of them. So she went to a son who was good to lay with • • • and she wanted to stay with him. (pause) But still sh,e wanted t<;> be the woman of a God. (pause) So she bade him see as she saw, hoping that he would be the God that I was. (silence) But he wouldn't know as she knew and he was afraid when she told hiµl. He would not. see because he could not see. He still neeoed me to be God and he. still feared my strength. (silence) So ne ·covered his geriit~ls and made her do the same ••• so I wouldn't know they knew. (sllence) When I saw them, I knew. (pause) Because they had covered them selves. (pause) Because I remembered my first glory ••• and my first fear. (silence) It had to be exile. In time he would have seen me. I know he would have. I couldn't be seen. I had.to send them out. (silence) They saw the burning W'rath in my eyes and k:neW not to return. (silence) So I wasn't challenged. I wasn't threatened again until the children had grown; those who had come after my victory over my Father. (pause) They hadn't seen my meal. They didn't know what was in me. (pause) They didn't know my glory. (silence, then intense) THEY KNEW ME NOT AS GOD. . God: What couldst thou have done? Cro.: I couldn't be seen. (pause) So I told them. I told them of my glory. I built a glorious language on rny glory; filled their heads with glorious words that told of my victory. (silence) But telling wasn't enough. They wouldn't be convinced. (pause) So I had to be good to them. Good to them ••• so they wouldn't hate me for not being a God. -46- God: Then thou didst allow the beating. Cro.: I had no choice. I couldn't have defended those who saw me· not as God when I needed to be God; (pause) And I couldn't have shown my fear of the others. A God can't show fear. (pause) They would have killed me. God: T'hen the children challenged thee • Cro.: I balanced them with the others. (pause) They feared the others, but they didn't fear me •.• because I was good to them. So they sought balance with the others through me. They balanced the feared others by challenging the other's feared God. . God: BUT A GOD CANNOT BE CHALLENGED BY A MAN! A GOD MUST RAISE IDMSELF IN VICTORY OVER THOSE WHO WOULD CHALLENGE HIM. Cro. : You killed them? God, (Confused): Killed them? Killed them .•. Killed them... Tue flood ••• ,THE FLOOD! (silence, then to Cro.) You killed them? . Gro.: I couldn't be challenged. killed me. . I couldn't be seen. They would have · God: THOU DIDST KILL THEM! (A distant thunder is heard.) Cro., (Cringing): It was the only way. God, (Despair): Thou didst kill them. Cro. : Not all of them. · They were too many .•• too strong. God, (Suspicious): Then they killed ••• thee? Cro,: I expected ••• but they didn't. -47- �T- --~ 1 1 God: But what could have stopped?. Cro.: We were invaded •.. (pause) by a band of starving nomads. (silence) I raised myself in victory .over their numbers. I ate their Father. Now the children knew too what was in me o • I 1 0 God: Thy glory was renewed. Cro.: My image was restored .•. reinforced .•. revitalized ... reactivated. God: Thy life was preserved. I i Cro., (A sigh): My life was preserved. (pause) Aslongas there were slaves. (silence) We kept the nomads as slaves. (pause) They cleaned our excrement They glorified my people. (pause) And my people glorified me. (pause) It was fair. God: Then they killed thee not. Cro.: I had a new glory and a fresh victory. They had slaves. They had glory of their own. The need was gone. God: And thou didst live out thy life in glory. Cro. : Unhappily ever after. God: Unhappily. <Pause) Supported only by an image. Cro.: MY IMAGE WAS STRONG! IT HELD ALL WHO SERVED ME STRAIGHT AND TALL! IT HELD ME STRAIGHT AND TALL! I God: BUT IMAGES DO NITT LIVE! SHOULD THE STRENGTH OF MEN REST HELPLESS IN THE STONE COLD HANDS OF UNLIVING THINGSZ Cro.: But images live! .... to men who make them live. Images feed on living things . God: And living things feed them! Cio. : And make them live. God, (Despair): And make them live. God gestures and lights go out. Dem. is heard. Dem.: Take the image away from the man and what've you got? A man? Or is man an image too? An organism! A sensitive organism •.• sensitive to itself and things outside of.itself ... sensitive and re tentive enough to make those things outside itself to be things inside itself. How's that? Free of images? Objective enough? (pause) Too bad we can't see ourselves as sensitive organisms. Something to do with pride or something. Rather see ourselves as men than as organ isms. Gives us more meaning and worth. It's just a shame that we have to need so much meaning and worth that we can't be free to see ourselves as we really are ... as plain old sensitive"organisms. (God and Cro. relit). God: What of those who had not the strength of an image tP k<'<'P them standing? -48- Cro.: Were there men without images? : i God: The slaves . .Thei~ Father was dead ..• Their image was dead. Cro.: Their Father was dead. Their image lived. ! I God: BUT IMAGES DO NITT LIVE! Cro. : So they can't die .•• unless the men who gave them life would die. And they didn't die. They lived. God: But as slaves! Cro.: Still they lived .. God: But what strength could they find in an image which had brought them to oppression? .. Cro.: They ignored their oppression. (pause) They remembered their Father when he had been a God to them. They glorified their memory and built a tradition on it. (pause) They turned away from the oppressing image and built an image of their own ..• and image that would not oppress them butwould promise them as end to oppression. They turned to strength from within where the without offered them no strength. {silence) And they lived in their memory and in their dreams~ And the greater their oppression; the more they elaborated on their memory ... and the more they lived in their dreams. (pause) And their image flourished in oppression. God: It gave them strength? Cro. : Strength to exodus. God, (Distant thought): Exodus .•• exodus ..• exodus •.• Cro.: And they exodused. {silence) They had no choice. Tuey had to. God, (Confused): No choice? But to choose freedom? Cro.: It was the children who exodused; the children who hadn't kno.wn andhadn 't seen the Father of their parents. Tuey didn't have their own memory. They had only the memory of their parents. They -. had only the words of their parents. God: And words weren't enough. Cro. : Not enough. They needed more than words. They needed action. They needed revelation. They needed to behold the image of their . God with their own eyes. They needed proof of his being.· (pause) They had to act. They had to act ..• or the image of their parents would have died; and with it their strength ... for their parents were their strength and the strength of their parents was in the image of their Father. {silence) But they lived ••. (pause) because they made their images live •.• because they acted ... and knew with their eyes .•• because they exodused and refused to die. (silence) Their image stayed with them. Their strength stayed with them. Their image was their strength. Silence -49- ' I 'I i I �- ---1 I cro. : I thought it would be good. God: THEN THEIR STRENGTH WAS NO STRENGTH! Cro., (Sitting up, turning to ~ace Dem, (Smiling still): God): What? God, (Standing up, agitated):_ Their strength in their ima~e ••• Ch~..: ed to their image... Chained to their strength... Chamed tothe1r freedom .•• Cro.: But it was their creation. The~ ruined the play. Cro. lowers his head. Dent. : No. It wa:s getting too serious anyway. Cro.: No. You're right. I shouldn't have. We should have finished. image.•. God: They created their strength? But their strength was in them! In their very nature! That is how I made thee! In thy very natw::e. audience) I made thee with strength. (To Cro. ) How could they give themselves what .I had already given?. Vo [)em.: We can still finish. Cro.: Let's try. (pause, then intense) Yot,Ir F~er ••• Father ••• Dem., (Distant thought): Father ••• Father •.• Father •.• Cro.: Father ••. Father ••. Cro., (Shrugging): It's the way we are. God: Because thou art weak! Thou hast no strength to keep thee stand-ing! WEAK! .: ~ou've God, (Distant thought): Father ••• Father ••• I seem to remember •.• DID HE HAVE HAill? Cro. : All over. Cro.: But you just Silid ••• God, (Enlightened): AND TEETH! God: WEAK! Cro. : We've never had a chance to be anythii:Jg else. Cro. : Canines three inches long •.• molars like _typewriter keys ••. · bicuspids like •.• God: But why turn to me in thy weakness? Why won't thou leavest me alone? I wish you'd leave me alone. God, (Cringing, frightened): NO! Don't hit me again! Please! Please don't hit me again. Cro., (Intense): Think back to your God. you not turn to him for strength? When you were weak ••• did Croesus places his hand on God's head and he becomes .calm. Cto. : Your Father. God stands silent. Cro. : When your strength l;Iad grown and his image had crumbled in your eyes ••• were you not cruel? God: MY GOD! HE WAS ..• Cro. : A hairy ape. God: ah ah hhh I. .. Silence Cro. : Killed him. Did you not ridicule him behind his back ••• and yet seek to be bim? And did you not yet fear him .•• even in weakness? .•• becausefear was all you had know to him? God: BUT HE WAS AN ANIMAL! HE! BEAT ME! HE MADE ME ... God, (Confused): But I thought I was the .•• Cro. : It was an animal that killed him. Cro.: · First? There was no ..• _ God: YOU DARE ••• (pause) But I've grown out of that animal. God: FIRST! I WAS ... Cro. : . The .animal has never grown out of you. Cro. : Your Father ••• Father .•• Father ••• God, (In distant thought): F~er, •• Father... I ALWAYS WAS ANO ALWAYS WILL BE ••• Cro. : Bullshit. Dem. breaks up and laughs. Dem.: Damn you Croesus! You promised. Cro., (Sheepish): I couldn't resist it. Dem.: You knew what would happen. -so·i ,, THE THINGS HE DID TO ME! God, (Desperate): But I did grow! I DID! I HAD NO FATHER! Cro.: You eXpanded. of your image. You e:xi:ianded with us as we rose on the glory God: Expanded ..• expanded .•• expanded ••• ex ••• (He lowers his head to his chest, wraps his arms around his stomach as he convulseswith sobs.) My Father ... My Father ... I've killed my Father! My God! What have I done? God falls to his knees and continues to sob. Croesus' headis turned down in sorrow; his hands hang limp at hi!'l sides. He's sorry. He' f! sorry for God. (The lights go out.) end act 2. -51- �act 3: apology Tue stage is dark. Dem.: They'd have boiled me in oil. Crucified me. Cr.o.: They wouldn't. Dem.: They would! Cro., (From out of the dark): Well, (pause) Finally got adecent definition of a man. (pause) A thing with an image. All lights on the stage go on. Dem. is lying on the couch; Cro. is sitting cross-legged on the floor at the foot of God's chair facing the audience. Dem. is still wearing the God robe, but the head piece and beard are off. They hang in. full sight on the back of the God chair. Cro.: They wouldn't. Dem. : They would have! I know they would have! (pause) There was · another man once. Cro. : Another man? Dem. : Long ago. He talked to me. Cro., (To audience): How do you feel? Cro.: Then he saw that you were just a ..• Dem.: My shin's killing me. Dem., (Interrupting): HE TRIED ... to tell them that I was just a •.•. (pause) a man ... AND THEY KILLED HIM! (Despair) They killed him. Because he could see. Cro.: I'm sorry. I had to do it. Dem.: Yes. I made you do it. Cro., (Pause): The fortunes of war. Dem.: I'll get over it. Silence. Cro. studies the audience; Dem. the ceiling. Dem.: So that's how it all happened. Cro.: How they made us Gods. Dem.: We let our beards grow. Cro, (To audience): It was their idea. They wanted us to look glorious. Dem. : We mounted our fluffy white clouds. Cro. : While they held the ladder •.. and anchored the clouds. Cro. : They weren't ready to see. ·Silence. Tuey weren't prepared. Silence. They still needed you to be God to them. Dem.: It was my fault. (Despair) He died for me. Cro. : They were frightened by the things he said. Silence. Their God was their strength ... but only as God. Silence. Dem. : It WAS exciting. Cro. : While the excitment of rebellion lasted. Dem., (Defensively): BUT THEY MADE ME! Dem. : So I could live. Dem.: BUT I REALLY STARTED TO BEI.JEVE •.• I· Cro.: To balance them so they could live with strength. Cro., (Angry): AND YOU LET THEM! I· They had to kill him .•. so they could be balanced. Cro. : So the truth would live. Cro.: THAT YOU WERE GOD! (angry pause) AND YOU UTII.JZED YOUR REASON IN THE SERVICE OF YOU; YOU MANIPULATED TRUTH FOR THE GLORIFICATION OF YOU .•• AS. FRIGHTENED MEN UTILIZED THEIR REASONS IN THE ALLEVIATION OF THEIR FEARS ... and in doing so, manipulated their words for the glorification of YOU. Dem. , (Sheepish): What could I have done? Dem.: But he's dead! Cro.: His image has lived. An. image fraught with truth. Cro.: Shown yourself. Dem.: As a man? Cro.: A man. Dem., (Despair): Had to kill him. Silence. He built it while he lived. He had disciples ... He showed them how to build an image ... How to make it live ... Where he knew he would die. Silence. So he spent his life filling the image that would live. after him. -53- �Dem., (Despair): Another image. Dem.: They'd have seen that their strengthwasn't in me. Cro.: AN IMAGE OF A MAN! No Father. No God. C;ro.: But in man. Dem.: But still an image! Dem. : In themselves, Cro.: So his truth would live. Cro.: They WOULDN'T have killed you. Dem., (pause): Then his truth has lived. Dem.: They wouldn't. Cro.: To this day. (pause) In the image of a man. Cro.: If they see you, they'll kill you. Dem . : And now it's too late! It's too late ! Silence. Cro.: It's not too late. They will see. You'd better show. Built not of Fathers ..• not of Gods ••. But of a man. A real and living man. The son of a Father. Built of the living. I!: Silence. J'i I (pause) And now I live in fear of being seen. And they called him the Son of God ..•. for men who needed their God to be God. And they called him the Son of man •.. for men to see the sons of Gods andmen to walk with heads and arms and feet. So the image of man would walk with the God of man. For men to judge. Dem., (pause): Perhaps I should have shown myself. Cro.: It would have taken great strength. Belief in man. Belief in yourself. Dem. : I could have run away .•• and left a note. Cro.: They needed you. You would have left them in need. Dem. : They would have died? Dem.: I'd better show. (He turns to the audience, gestures with his hand as if about to say something; says nothing. He stands in silence for a time. Then with a final effort, as one who has been greatly in spired, he throws open his arms, turns his head to the heavens ... ) LET THERE BE .•• (All the lights go out. A dissonant crash and clatter is heard off stage. When the lights come back on he's kneeling and cringing). Cro.: Lights. (Lights come on.) Despaired, Demaratus rises and walks back to the couch. He lies down. Cro. : Did you show yourself? Dem.: They saw me. Cro., (Ponders): What did they say? Dem. : Nothing. Cro.: Maybe they didn't understand. Dem. : Their eyes were hard. Cro., (Shrugging): You've done your part. Cro.: Tuey couldn't read. Dem.: My part? Dem, (Gets up, paces): But I couldn't be seen. I couldn't! They'd have killed me! I know. Cro.: You could have shown yourself. Cro.: Now it's up to them. Dem.: Up to them? Cro.: You're free. Dem.: I COULDN'T BE SEEN! Cro.: YOU COULD HAVE SHOWN YOURSELF! Dem.: Free? Dem. : I COULDN'T ..• (pause) Shown myself? Cro.: Free! Cro.: Had you shown yourself ... they wouldn't have needed to see you. Dem.: They don't need me anymore. Dem., (Pondering): Shown myself. Cro.: Not if they understood. Cro.: Your children would have been raised out of unglory to know no need of glory. Dem.: (Hopeful): Maybe they didn't understand. Dem.: They'd have seen that I was a man. Dem., (Despair): Yes. I understand. Cro.: By your hand. Cro.: So you'll have to wait. -54- Cro. : It makes no difference ... bee ause you under stand. I -55- I I, �Dem.: Wait? Cro.: One day they'll come to you and tell you they understand. T I Dem. : But in the mean time! Cro.: Close your eyes. Cro.: Grow thou not up. Grow thou into. Into •.• into ... into. Thyself ••• thyself •.. thyself. You'll have yourselves. Your balance will be in you. You'll be able to carry yourself around with you. (pause) W?ere ever thbu goest. (smiles) A portable balance. What'll they think of next? Cro. : It will take time. But time will come. Dem.: I'm easily distracted. i God: I'm sorry. (He leaves.) A few seconds pass. Cro. Sticks his shaved pink head out of the left wing. (pause) You'll see. Dem.: Close my eyes? And SEE? ,I :'\ He stops before he disappears into the left wing and turns to the audience. Cro. : Find a closet. Dem., (Frightened): No! Not the closet! He's jerked suddenly back out of sight. Demaratus' voice is heard. Cro.: It has to be. Dem.: But it's full of crutches! Dem. : Enough! Cro.: I thought you emptied .... end. Dem. : There were too many. Cro., (Walking briskly into the left wing): I'll empty it for you. I'll find you a pillow. Dem.: No! Don'f leave me! Dem. stands alone on the stage. He stares confusedly into the audience. His confusion changes to determination; his determination to fear; his fear to concern. He puts the beard and head-piece back on and turns to the audience. God: Thou didst need a man ... whom thou couldst see and touch ... and I was to thee a God ... which thou couldst neither see nor touch. Thou didst need a brother •.• whom thou couldst know; with whom ·thou couldst grow •.. and I was to thee a Father ... whom thou couldst not know and whose growth thou couldst not understand. As children thou hast suffered my blindness •.. so thou art as thou art. Bare thee no child to suffer. Judge not thy child! Judge not thy brother ..• when thou knowest neither the essence of the judge nor of the judged. Let thy judgement cause no man suffering when thou knowest not the forces moving thee to judge. Let thy act cause no man suffering when thou knowest not the forces moving thee to act. Lower no creature to thee. Raise no man above thee . If thine eyes be open to his plea, there can be no being greater than thine. (pause) Close thine eyes to contempt ... for its source is my blindness and the blindness I have cause in thee. Close thine eyes to me and open them to thyself. The truth is in thee. Thou must see it in thee ... for thou wilt not see it in me ... until thou see st that I am thee. Our children must not see this God ... until they can know me. Our children must see NOTHING WHICH THEY CANNOT KNOW and they will know all. War not for the glory of this image. (Removes the beard and head-piece. Drops them to the floor.) Bunch of shitheads ! ·-.'ih. ' I ' �� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Collegian Description An account of the resource The Collegian began as a student newspaper; became a college community literary publication in 1952 and continued until 1969; became a student newspaper again in 1969; discontinued publication from 1980 until 1989 when it again became a student literary publication. Click on <a title="The Collegian" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=26">Items in The Collegian Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 32 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anthony, George (Editor) Anthony, Meredith (Editor) Title A name given to the resource The Collegian, Spring 1967 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1967-04 Description An account of the resource Issue of The Collegian entitled "Prize Essays 1965-1966". Published in Spring 1967. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Collegian Spring 1967 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 The Collegian https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/875501fb159c2ac96b832f7aba8be5d2.pdf 6223712f1b2ccbbae8686f2b5804c724 PDF Text Text �THE COLLEGIAN POETRY AND LIFE DRAWINGS Spring 1967 comE DANCE WITH ME 1 Conte Crayon Drawing * Ian M. Harris Kay Holden NOTES FROM A WINE TASTING 2 Charles G. Bell HIGH POTENTIAL Drawing 3 Charles C. Bell Mike Gessner LfCTl!-11£ * or: ETHICS TO A STUDENT 4 Elliott Zuckerman Mike Maddox POEM 5 Pen Drawing * TO NADINE POEM Conte Srayon Drawing 6 * Don Massell Candace Brightman POEM 8 Richard Sohmer FIVE HAIKUS Pen and Ink Drawing 9 Ginny Sohmer * * 7 Linda Schneider Avron Alberts SPRING AFFAIR 10 J. S. Scott William Greene Elliott Zuckerman XANTHIPPE Pen and Conte Crayon Drawing 11 Ginny Sohmer * * John Smith Mike Gessner Pen and Wash Drawing Chalk Drawing 12 POEM THE YES OF SPRING 13-14 A Comment on the Drawings 15 Richard Sohmer Molly Mattfield James Gilbert, Artist in Residence *************~****** Editors George and Meredith Anthony Associate Editor Advisor Avron Alberts Eva Brann Richard Sohmer Cover St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland �COME DANCE WITH ME Scraping streams heedlessly Rub against earthen shores. Soft silt dissolves and flows Downstream towards the sea. The ice which freezes is teased By heat and rises to the sun, Which funnels cold into rainbows. All action flows into a womb of mud. "It has potential," said she. I said, "Uplift your moistened arms Towards the sky and stamp your feet In intricate melody. Feast The Gods who smile on lover's feats. A dancing smile will catch their peace." She rolled over and fell asleep, Enjoying active dreams. I took my pen in hand And carved a peg on which My mantle could be hanged. * Ian M. Harris �I r ! ·. . i ., { t· . If ~ . . jj'" >·•.f. fl ~' ff id. ' -~t. r . ">' "' \ �NOTES FROM A WINE TASTING CRY What is the point of this? I am here, a time-rooted presence: I try a bit of that glue-sniffing they call Wine, and flow in and out with loved And ugly neighbors. • • Ugly? 0 beautiful, 0 flesh-invested mortals, Were we not one before the lmif e, Apartness Cut my soul and organs from you -Forever? SMOKING It is difficult To put much originality into The puffing of a cigarette; as a matter Of fact, it becomes an imitation: To heave back, drawing On the stem, detach it, Letting smoke ooze reflectively From as near the midriff as possible. LOWEN BRAU That man Goes for the mug Like grabbing the tit Of a never-conquered woman; And it is only a fill-em-up-daily Cast-glass beer mug. Drink it ? BEGINNINGS Strange, in my age to feel Always more amorous; And so blind now, I cannot tell That woman's smile from her frowning. * Charles G. Bell �HIGH PafENTIAL My life in strange places. Night. I climb a bank and take A cut-off through some trees. The hum in the dark increasing. (In New York yesterday I saw my crazy Charlotte Penned up, ranting.) They loom in dim light, fenced with warning, Ringed tails upended, barbed Like hornets, humming. (A jet zooms over; somewhere fire is falling.) I think these Martian bees hatched our civilization; And I go past, as she would, past a policeman, Muttering against the curse, steeled against the sting. * Charles 3 G Bell �:· ·· --•........ _, <: ,, .. _, . .. Pl Ir/'.' \· \ "'. ~·.-,\ .:' :1 \ .!'f I . ~ ,/ .··' 'I . / ; .· • I �A LECTURE ON· ETHICS, TO A STUDENT Far from any fireman On a dry Northumberland plateau A mansion burns. You Must certify the single rescue. Who Will it be: mother, lover, or Newton? The question stands there, like the cow On a peaceful Surrey field \\hich may Or may not still be there when you look away. Scalding makes boys smart. But only in middle age do students learn That arson is a subtle art And real mansions actually burn. Velvet and oak can be charred to dust From one sharp flicker of sulpherous lust And merely the mention Of heated passion can trap In flames the foolish lady who lives alone at the top Floor of even a fireproof mansion, In five or fifteen years you may discover That no lady and no lover No mother and no Newton leaps to safety. Yet you might be a person Who leaps from boyhood into boyhood Skipping the studies of the skills of arson. Who after a sunny day in the neighborhood Of a mansionless city, without love, Asks in all earnestness whether the philosopher should Or should not return to the cave. * Elliott Zuckerman �POEM Haughty, th~ sun defies sentry window-sill thunders into my room FLAS H ING CRASHING gloom doomed and face to face in this place dares me to action addition subtraction dashing , the morning raids bed unmade the covers retreat the won't be beat evening calls the citadel falls pull tha shades * Mike Maddox 5 �I I f / I ~ \ �TO NADINE · GOlden circles expanding into glorious air! thunderclaps, and I am deluged in sensation • . I celebrate the sun, and plunge, Devouring universes. I emerge, the black Is blinding, eyes dazzled by delight, And always~ Jo~ GOlden circles expanding into glorious air! Whizzing round a crystal curve, I am immersed in cotton cloud, And tingled. Every pore embraces worlds. I Spirit-gallop, and with fugues I sing the face of God, Enveloped by Golden circles expanding into glorious air! Down now to currents, I dance across the nipples of Rhea's breast. I dive into her crimson womb, And hurtle up to galaxies. I kick a rock, and planets skit, Like pebbles over waves, I sing Golden circles expanding into glorious air! * Avron Alberts 6 �And then the other day there was this cold, analytical fellow in my room and eager to converse and I was drunk and very poetic and cruel and having many words and the ability to talk without logic and rapidly and voluminously, so since I noticed that he didn't know love or anything about the world and had read Steppenwolf and identified with Steppenwoif and idolized Steppenwolf, I became the woman and decided to crush him and open him up and make him anew. I only succeeded in crushing him. I lied a lot for the sake of poetry. I told him that I went to Europe when I was a young man like himself and the second day I was there a beautiful woman with pained eyes and too many frown-lines for her age came up to me and said, "Are you American?" "Yes." "Have you come to Europe to be reborn?" "What do you mean?" "Well," she said, "maybe you've never thought aoout it. But haven't you come to Europe to learn to love, to learn to be enthusiastic, where you wouldn't be ashamed of it, where you thought you'd be allowed to love and to be enthused, where you thought there would be nobody to criticize you, to restrain you, to mock you., where you wouldn't feel ashamed to love and to laugh?" And she asked me to stay in her Belmondish room for two days, at the end of which at twelve o'clock midnight I would have to leave, and put those principles which I would learn (truths which I would discover) into practice. She taught me to be a mother, a father, a brother, a sister, a god, a son -- the Holy Ghost not changing my core of character but solidyfying the foundation, cementing it, and then building an Eiffel Tower founded on humor and constructed by love. She taught me that love was beautiful, and she laughed all the time, to illustrate the point. At twelve midnight of the second day I left and I cried. She said, as I was leaving, in a voice of desperate longing, "You know, mon cheri, that the only reason I had you up here was that I was tired of being used, beaten, disappointed, and shat upon by the kind of filthy bastard you'll probably turn out to be. I had you here because I decided to seduce one of you, to help you, to show you how to love me," ••• then, "Get out," accompanied by a look of anguish and a pistol which she whipped out and pointed at me , and she added a gangsterishly snide "fast.~ I left, and I cried. I never thought such a beautiful woman could use such foul language. Not long thereafter I learned to curse, and then to laugh and to love. * 7 Don Massell �.. ... - · . , /· ..; ';' ff t �POEIYI Glitter-gore of crucial gold, retch-warm spu~tered, spatters now the trumpet, arch, and vesture, flickered-slick. The viscid, gilty images of that which once did shriek forsook. stand dumb reeked precious by the precious, the unrecked dumb forsook. Where's an ore too dross to cast? What whoreson's saved the coarser wine for last? * Richard Sohmer �FIVE HAIKUS Rain dripped off the clouds And fell into the steamy grass By the river. Beneath a freckled nose Summer mouth Sticky kisses at the corners He cut his wrist Said he felt no pain And \'ohile he spoke I bled to death. You will never learn To walk on water If you slip so much on mud. The saddest part of winter: When there is no one To hold my cold hand. * Ginny Sohmer �I '17 �/ / / �SPRil\!G AFFAIR The season was a salon-piece, with gems: A turn of phrase, a mordent, A stretch of fine sf ogato, Each peak prepared in sentimental judgment for bright comparison, unstrung, and strung, The jewels of a necklace. That season, here, for Cecily, Till summer struck. On afternoons in August and July The keyboard of her sensibilities, Her eight and eighty pitches of delight, Stood glued in the humidity And when she turned to sound a single tone To strike a key The keys on either side depressed themselves In crestless cacophony. * Elliott Zuckerman 10 �XANTHIPPE If your life with me is the overflow of your other life, If I get the remnants of your love -the bitter pulp And if the sweetness of your mind has been trafficked in the bazaar, beautifully displayed at your stall, And if you have been prodded and tickled and caressed by your admirers, Tell me, my dear, if the sadness in the song of the crow is a teachable thing. * Ginny Sohmer ��,;. t "'' · - ..--~''.-? ... ' . .4\ " . �no gl(what-the-hell)amourous he no non-conformist bad hat (she discovered) just (christ, is that all?) dirty (.) * Richard Sohmer 1 2 �THE YES OF SPRING The hidden world holds the child safe From grown-ups' anger and dragons' bite. While Tl1ey talk, she ceremoniously eats Strawberry ice cream, surreptitiously Sucking ragged, red lumps on a curled Tongue. Tbe secret of cold floor boards On bare feet; the dreams of pigtailed Girls sprawled behind raspberry canes, To chew raw rhubarb and read fat books; And The Place by the spring, all are Protection from the wrath of the Unmentionable and from secret sins. Until, kneeling to loosen the earth Around a purple-tipped white crocus, She sees the flower die. Now A caterpillar is a caterpillar, and not A red and black woolly bear. The blight Ridden garden is enthralled by perpetual Winter; and the sterile sky stares Fixedly at a crooked yew guarding A few palsied chrysanthemums and a Leaf choked birdbath. A starling speaks From the cinder path as a bushy-tailed Rat of a squirrel flattens to leaves. The child braced against the summer House hugs her knees thinking of death: "To escape and die through denial, By cultivating the now of ceaseless youth To dance and sing in gold and magenta pants, Until like an aged parrot, I am eaten by moths; Or swaying high on a suspension bridge To triumphantly curse the universe and leap Into the polluted river. 13 �To escape and die through self embraced madness By drinking tea from a rose-tipped cup. While Candles flicker and gregorian monks chant, Wooden bears and trolls from a distant Black for est walk the shelf. Perhaps If I could become one with the pattern On my persian rug, I might understand •••• Meanwhile I sit playing my violin And waiting for my orange tree to blossom. To risk victory and die through caring, That seeing death, can love A curled-up woolly bear caterpillar, Small in t_ e cup of my hand; h To die as the crocus qies to death In Spring." Freed by love, I can unashamedly face the nakedly Suffering blue eyes of one who loves, And dance in the garden of death and crocuses. * 1~ Molly Mattf ield Winner of Hallmark-Kansas City Poetry Pr:tze 1966 �This year the St. John's life-class was fortunate in attracting a considerable number of talented artists including several professionals. Our few reproductions can give no idea of the range of talent represented in the class. In choosing them we naturally gave priority to the work of St. John's students and were also guided by questions of suitability in terms of size and technique. However, while we make no claim to show the "best" work done this year, I think that it is good work and reflects something of the variety and spontaneity of the group. Several of the drawings chosen were done in five minutes. most of them took less than twenty. * James Gilbert Artist in Residence � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Collegian Description An account of the resource The Collegian began as a student newspaper; became a college community literary publication in 1952 and continued until 1969; became a student newspaper again in 1969; discontinued publication from 1980 until 1989 when it again became a student literary publication. Click on <a title="The Collegian" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=26">Items in The Collegian Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 25 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anthony, George (Editor) Anthony, Meredith (Editor) Title A name given to the resource The Collegian, Poetry and Life Drawings, Spring 1967 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1967-04 Description An account of the resource Issue of The Collegian entitled "Poetry and Life Drawings". Published in Spring 1967. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context collegian Spring 1967 #2 Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf The Collegian https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/edc8405a181b07c8f6b913dc70b80267.pdf 1421b718c88299932e0da2529fc29d41 PDF Text Text �THE STUDENT'S PROBLEM LECTURE ON THE LIBERAL ARTS Eva Brann Collegian Supplement, October 1967 �St. John's College is a small liberal arts school, co-educational and non-sectarian; with campuses in Annapolis, Maryland and Santa Fe, New Mexico. Editors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .George and Meredith Anthony Associate Editor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . • . • . .Richard Sohmer Assistant Editors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Steve Forman Masha Zager Faculty Advisor • . . . . . . . . . . . • . . . . . . . • . . . • . • Eva Brann Cover Design . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . • . . . . Gabrielle Bershen St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland �St. John's College is a small liberal arts school, co-educational and non-sectarian,. with campuses in Annapolis, Maryland and Santa Fe, New Mexico. Editors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .George and Meredith Anthony Associate Editor . . . . . . . .. ... .. . . . . . . • . .Richard Sohmer Assistant Editors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . • Steve Forman Masha Zager Faculty Advisor . . . . . . . . ... . . . . . • . . . . . . . . .• Eva Brann Cover Design . • . . .• . . . . . . . . . . . .. • . . . . Gabrielle Bershen St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland �The Student s Problem Lecture on the Liberal Arts, given at St. John's College in Annapolis on Friday night, September 22, 1967 Eva Brann, Tutor Fellow members of the Community of Learning, There is a sicklless, traditionally called melancholy, which is particularly at home in communities of learning such as ours. Its visible form can be' seen in the engraving by Duerer called Melencolia Prima. Amidst the signs and symbols of the liberal arts, especially geometry, sits heavily a winged woman. Her eyes are fixed intently on visions of nothing - she is a figure of "careless desolation" surrounded by unvalued riches. Almost all the older members of this - and any - community of learning, be they teachers or students, are well acquainted with her. So will you be, who are fresh to our enterprise, the later the more devastatingly. However, not only we, but students throughout this country, over a quarter of whose citizens are now entering schools, are subject to this malady which has, in fact, in this very decade reached epidemic proportions. It therefore seems right to take account of it publicly, the more so since its cause is a peculiar version of a fundamental human problem which is just now beginning to cause this nation what will turn out to be, I think, its most characteristic agony . It is the problem of poverty amidst riches. I shall try to talk about its intellectual aspect not in those facile current terms which can do little but give the victims the bleak satisfaction of having a disease at once choice and popular. I shall not mention either "identity crises " or "alienation, " nor shall I talk of "middle class values, " rejected or otherwise, and "trends in society, "rapidly increasing or the opposite. Instead I shall begin by referring to a book which is a compendium of the traditional wisdom concerning the nature of human unhappiness, written when the human soul had not yet become a "field" for experts. In the beginning of the seventeenth century an English scholar, Robert Burton, wrote for his own relief and for the comfort of his friends a book called The Anatomy of Melancholy, in which everyone may find his particular misery acknowledged as a human condition. Burton makes a distinction between chronic suffering, a true disease of spirit, and the occasional type, of which he says simply that "melancholy in this sense is the character of mortality." I -3- �think that by the "character of mortality" he means the knowledge, implied in every feeling that has any urgency about it, that the time of our life is finite. Melancholy, however peculiar and complex it may be, is essentially the sometimes paralyzing and sometimes frenzying dread of "missing out, " which comes to those who have had tantalizing intimations of earthly happiness. It is the stronger the more remote death is, and so strongest in the young, for in them every day demands the renWlciation of a hWldred possible futures for the choice of one actual life, and the very riches of this indeterminacy may stymie the energies and induce listlessness and restless sloth. Consequently the opposite of melancholy is riches in poverty, a serene ardour of the sort perfectly described in a Buddist song of which the translation is as follows (I have, of course, no idea what the original really says): Well -roofed and pleasant is my little hut, And screened from winds:- Rain at thy will, thou god! My heart is well composed, my heart is free, And ardent is my mood. Now rain, god! rain. Melancholy i_, then, a human sickness attendant on the ins vestment and expenditure of living time. That this is the case is shown by the kind of relief that that part of the youth of this coWltry is indulging in which negotiates its future for an instant bliss and sells its hopes for a high moment, as the slogan goes, "right now." Their prototype is Dr. Faustus, the melancholy scholar who buys "experiences" of the devil at the expense of all time to come; there is, in fact, a very perceptive novel of student life by John Hersey, called Too Far to Walk, which exploits this very legend of the melancholy doctor in modern dress . This then is the sickness which particularly afflicts students, and I shall now inquire why this is so. Our freshmen will soon learn that the English word "school" is derived from the Greek word "schole" which means "leisure." A student at school is a person of leisure, a human being with an abnormal wealth of time free from business, left free to confront the acknowledged riches of the spirit . And yet he often finds his appetite inept to this food, so that he who must have come because he wanted the life of study as a whole, cannot bring himself to study this or that assignment and spends his time in the frame of mind of which Paul says: "For what I would that do I not; but what I hate, that do I." Why does this happen? -4- There are certain reasons for student discontent which I shall not consider much since they do not seem to me to go to the heart of the matter . One has to do with the restrictions and con formities demanded by the school as a semi -public institution. A college is a civil association grounded in the body politic and entirely dependent on it for its survival. Its members, in joining this association, have in fact agreed to conform to the laws of the land. There remains, however, the vexed and vastly exaggerated question of conforming to its conventions. Here a subtle argument applies, and a student's appreciation of it is the measure of his understanding of the nature of a liberal education . For as I shall try to show later, a proper school harbours within itself such depths of true dissent and such abysses of true radicality, that an unobtrusive cloak of ordinary behavior is essential to its internal and external survival. Those who are considering growing long beards and sporting bare feet are , though they may not know it, supported even by classical Western authority, for the last great pagan, the Emperor Julian, showed in his essay called the "Beardhater" that it is a sign of Christian impiousness to despise beards, which are, even when thickets of lice, the philosopher 's attribute . And who has read Plato's Symposium and does not know that bare feet are the very marks of the demon Love himself? But it is precisely because he appreciates the significance of such external signs that a serious person can afford to avoid them until he is sure that he knows what he is doing and to whom - to call such deliberate conformity hypocrisy is extremely simple-minded. Much restlessness also arises from the fact that students, who are in these years by the plan of nature at the peak of their sexual desires, are required by serious schools to observe the rites of celibacy . In this, more than in any other respect, the rules of school -life are no mere conventions, for whoever knows anything about the life of learning will not entertain the frivolous notion that it ought to be a very natural or satisfied life, but will understand that it requires a certain tension of soul and body and a certain reserve of deferred desire. In the Symposium Aristophanes, whose business as a comedian it is to pursue the logic of ordinary and natural human behavior to its absurd end, gives a picture of constantly fulfilled desire as a frontless , faceless "two-backed beast" within which the mediating distance through which Eros needs to move has been closed, with the result that love and its attendant learning are at an end . And indeed, most of us have felt a certain loss of ardour in ageneration which feels free to proceed -5- �immedi ately to that end. Such then are what appear to me false irritants . Th~re is, of course, also a genuine reason for the universal studen~ disgust, and this has no cure but revolution - just such a revolution, I believe, as took place when the present program was_ inst~tuted at this school over a generation ago.* Let me describe, JUStly, I hope, what seems to me the position which must_ be overthro~, the position of the vast majority of those engaged m the vast busi ness of higher education . They consider that there are at hand ready 1?-ade bodies of information and disciplines which constitute the heritage of human learning . These must be made available to the student, who may, however, be expected to choose among them and who is therefo~e expected to desire to learn the ones he elects. Mo~eove~, a certam randomness or freedom is granted in the manner m which the subject is to be absorbed, and some resistance to the mental foo_d is not only expected but is actually considered healthy . Incentives such as marks are certainly used, but it is recognized that the best feeders ingest because they are hungry. The finest of the teachers under thi s view of learning are usually those who have themselves become in turn absorbed in their subject and are contributing to its advancement. The institution of learning which corresponds to this view is a vast clearing-house for the private predilections .of people who are, to be sure, usually very much in earnest. This storehouse of specialist knowledge is the university, wit~ its two_m a~or divisions of the sciences and the humanities and its combmat10n of freedom of choice and formalization of presentation. The activity carried on there is divers e and stimulating, and yet efficiently organized, as Kant already observed, like a factory, on the principle of division of labor. It is in the natm:e of the se~-up that the latest, the most effective and the most highly technical and theoretically e legant field is found most captivating by bright and fresh students, and that the universities should become the breeding grounds of sophisticated theories and techniques. *The program of St. John's College requires every stu~ent to pursue the elements of the linguistic as well as the ~athemaucal arts, and to consider seriously certain books belonging to the reflective tradition. Now why is it that this veritable smorgasbord of learning is more often than not stale and tasteless for its students? It is, I think, because this view of learning regards everything which is not the latest tecllilique as n'iere history, somehow fascinating to those who happen to be curious and fond of sight-seeing, but not inevitably interesting to all who are human: "For to converse with those of other centuries is almost the same thing as totravel, " says Descartes in the Discourse . The effect of engaging in such historical, or "objective", investigations of other people 's affairs and opinions can be deadly. Let me read you what the most prophetic critic of our contemporary life, Nietzsche, wrote about the universities of 1873: . . . The young man is kicked through all the centuries; boys who know nothing of war, diplomacy, or commerce are considered fit to be introduced to political history. We moderns also run through art ga lleries and hear concerts in the same way as the youngman runs through history. We can feel that one thing sounds different from another, and pronounce on the different "effects. " And the power of gradually losing all feelings of strangeness or astonishment, and finally being pleased at anything, is called the historical sense or historical culture. The crowd of influences streaming on the young sou l is so great, the clods of bar barism and violence flung at him so strange and overwhelm ing, that an assumed stupidity is his only refuge. Where there is a subtler and stronger self-consciousness we find another emotion, too - disgust. The young m an has become homeless: he doubts all ideas, all moralities. He knows "it was different in every age, and what you are doe s not m atter." . . . No, such study of his tory bewilders and overwhelms. It is not necessary for youth, as the ancients show, but even in the highest degree dangerous, as the moderns show. Consider the student of history, the heir of ennui that appears even in his boyhood. He has the "me thods " for original work, the "correct ideas " and the airs of the master at his finger s' ends. A little isolated period of the past is marked out for sacrifice. He cleverly applies his method and produces something, or rather, in prouder phrase, "creates" something. He becomes a "ser vant of truth" and a ruler in the great domain of history. If he was what they call ripe as a boy, he is now overripe. You only need shake him and wisdom will rat tle down into your lap; - 7- - 6- �but the wisdom is rotten, and every apple has its worm . . . Thus Nietzsche . But I shall not linger on this genuine cause of student des pair either, since you at St. John's College are not, I think, confronted with it. If the sin of the universities may be defined as the perversion of tradition into history and of the liberal arts into special techniques, then the deeply conservative revolution by which the program of this college was instituted may be described as a return to the tradition of learning and the liberal arts . But as .the freshman will learn all too soon, this campus too is the scene of much confusion of the spirit resulting in dreary apathy or danger ous wildness. Whatever the particular circumstances of those afflicted, in some central way our program of study is responsible. It too occasionally induces melancholy, and that in some of the most serious students, who sometimes feel a stultifying lack of fit between their human necessities and the store of learning provided, to whom the wisdom of the ages sometimes appears as a grotesque formalization of their Vital problems, for whom the course of study sometimes runs aslant of, or counter to, the course of their lives. So I shall ·a ddress myself now to this particular problem which I recognize as the central legitimate difficulty of the life of learning: Why are we sometimes unable to accept the riches we have inherited? I shall do this by investigating what the liberal arts are and, in connection with this, what is meant by our tradition of learning . For us it is not so important to know that there are traditionally seven liberal arts as to understand why these are divided into two groups, the trivium of grammar, rhetoric and logic and the quadrivium of arithmetic, geometry, music and astronomy. This division mirrors the double nature of learning, namely that it is always done through words on the one hand, and that these are always concerned with learnable objects on the other. The trivium, the arts of the word, deals with those skills by which thought, that which is internal to human beings, is brought out, expressed and made communal, while the quadrivium, the arts , one might say, of the world, deals with those skills which help us to acquire as knowledge what is in the world, apart from and outside of our speech. The first group was sometimes called "exoteric, "suitable for the uninitiated, since words are that of which all human beings -8- have sufficient natural know ledge to be ready for artful instr uc tion. Thus grammar, the art of using words correctly is, as Cass iodorus, the sixth century author of a book fundamental for the whole subsequent liberal arts tradition, says, the principle, source and foundation of the arts. The second group was, correspondingly, called "acroamatic , " meaning the arts "to be heard, " namely by fewer and more advanced students. This distinction goes back to Plato 's Republic , in which all citizens receive some sort of educ a tion in poetry, while only certain chosen 0nes study precisely those arts which were later to be known as the quadrivium - arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music, dealing in turn with numbers, bodies, moving bodies and audible moving podies, understood as the intelligible elements which constitute the natural world. I mention this ancient and medieval distinction because, with acer tain shift of meaning and blurring of lines, it still dominates the schools. The devotees, as we all know, of the literary fields often think of mathematicians and sc ientists as practicing black arts alien to humanity, while the latter think of the former quite s imply as occupied with "trivial" matters . Now that I have said briefly what liberal arts traditionally exist, let us take a look at their name itself. The liberal arts are the "free" or "freeing arts ." But isn't the phrase which names them a contradiction in terms ? Listen how John of Salisbury, a medieval defender of the trivium, defines "art" in his work called Metalogicon : "Art is a reasonable procedure which, using the shortcuts proper to it, brings about a facility for achieving the naturally possible . For in this procedure reason does not promise to undertake or effect the impossible, but having in view those things which can be done, it opposes, as it were, to the wasteful circuitous road of nature a short cut, and brings into being, if I may put it this way, a faculty for mastering the difficult. For this reason the Greeks speak of art as 'method,' a ' short way,' which avoids the extra expenditure of nature and makes straight its wind ing circuit, so that that which is to be done can be done more di rectly and easily." And Thomas Aquinas says: "Art, then, is a method, a set course, whose pursuit has become a habit, a second nature, and whose aim is to do something and to do it efficiently . " (It goes, of course, without saying that the activities of people called "artists" at present can be called arts only insofar as these people are fully in command of their work. But we are, in any case, not now concerned with the so-called productive or with the mechanical arts , but with the arts of learning.) -9- �Now to be able to do things in this way means to be a train ed expert. The notion of efficient theoretical know-how, acquired by habit-forming training, by the internalizing of precepts, which dominates the modern instructional business, derives, therefore, strange to say, from the traditional liberal arts themselves. The arts are understood as curriculum subjects, scheduled and institutionalized learning programs, or as John of Salisbury himself calls them: "compendia," sets of precepts governing a range of particulars . Since the body of such precepts needs to be developed and perfected by the concerted and continued efforts of the masters of the arts, arts - learning is always "traditional" in the two senses of the Latin word "tradere," namely of "handing on" and of "betraying" a heritage. For the accumulation of know-how is on the one hand passed down, mostly in books, from generation to generation, and regarded as a valuable inheritance, but on the other hand, in sofar as improvements and advancements in learning are made, each generation is very willing to forget and deny the perch from which it took off - and obviously, the steeper the flight, the more vehement the denial. To give an example: for almost two millenia the great tool of learning which tops off the trivium, logic, had had its most authoritative statement in a body of treatises by Aristotle called traditionally the Organon or "Instrument." At the beginning of the seventeenth century Francis Bacon published, as part of a huge plan for the re-organization of human knowledge, a work significantly and boldly called the "New Organon," in which he writes: "For after the sciences had been cultivated and handled diligently, there has risen up some man of bold disposition (he means Aristotle), and famous for methods and short ways, which people like, who has in appearance reduced them to an art, while he has, in fact only spoiled all that the others had done." And that from a man a good quarter of whose vocabulary is, I would think, Aristotelian! The point, however, which I mean to make is that the arts-tradition, characterized by the conception of art as method, is as much behind the iconoclast as behind the scholastic. Let us take a very brief and inadequate look at the ~story and meaning of this word, "method. " Tue Greek word methodos means simply "a way to follow" or a "pursuit." In the dialogue The Republic, Socrates uses the word in just this way. He speaks of the "pursuit" of mathematical studies which will end in a unified view of all of these, and then goes on to speak of the "way followed by dialectic, which alone travels in such a way that it gets rid of hypotheses anci comes to the source itself . . . . " If someone -10- were to translate "the way followed by dialectic" by the words "the dialectic method" he would be very much misrepresenting Plato ' s text, for the way of dialectic, the way of questions and answers about the nature of things, is, as I shall try to show, fundamentally different from, if not diametrically opposed to, the artful, abbreviated, problem-solving procedure which is signified by the word for us. Gradually, largely under the. influence of medical writers, who particularly appropriate the word and mean by it a rationalized technique of treatment clearly communicable to an apprentice physician, method comes to be a key word with very nearly its present meaning. An obvious and essential part of this meaning is that such a technique must be teachable, that is, there must be handy, rationally organized compendia of precepts such as are associated with a program of studies; an art must have "elements," first beginnings through which a student is properly introduced to it. In fact, in time "method" sometimes comes to mean simply "curricular subject, " any organized public presenta tion. By the sixteenth century interest in "method" as the pedagogical side of arts learning had become rampantly exaggerated. An outraged scholar (Turnebe) of the period says: "Method - no word is more popular in our lectures these days, none more often heard none give a more delightful ring than that term. . . • " And Ramus, the prolific rhetorician whom he is attacking and who is the great proponent of method at this time, says: "But method is used not only in the matter of arts and curricular subjects but in every matter which we wish to teach easily and clearly . " Our modern "textbooks" are the consequences of this trend. In the next century the method of method undergoes one of those great betrayals of which I have spoken. Having been so far largely in the service of humanist training, particularly rhetoric and logic, or, in terms of the liberal arts, in the service of the trivium, it is freshly appropriated now for the inquiry of nature, it becomes "scientific," always with the intimation that no previous metllod was a true method. The work most characteristic of this development and most influential in the new under standing of the meaning of science (although by no means in the actual pursuit of it) is Descartes introduction to three physico-mathematical treatises setting out his own discoveries in optics, analytical geometry and met~orology, called significantly a Discourse on the Method of Rightly Conducting the Reason and Seeking for Truth in the Sciences. It proposes essentially the introduction of quantita- -11 - �tive, that is, mathematical, methods into the speculative or liberal arts. Descartes says: "Most of all I was delighted with mathematics because of the certainty of its demonstrations and the evidence of its reasoning, but I did not yet understand its true use, and believing that it was of service only in the mechanical arts, I was astonished that, seeing how firm and solid was its basis, no loftier edifice has been reared thereupon." And later on: "I have never made much of those things which proceed from my own mind, and so long as I culled no other fruits from the method which I use, beyond that of satisfying myself respecting certain difficulties which pertain to the speculative sciences . . . , I never believed myself obliged to write anything about it, but so soon as I had ac quired some general notions concerning physics I believed that I could not keep them concealed . . .. For they caused me to see that it is possible to attain knowledge which is very useful in life and that, instead bf that speculative philosophy which is taught in the Schools, we may find a practical philosophy by means of which, knowing the force and action of fire, water, air, the stars, heavens and all other bodies that environ us as distinctly as we know the· different crafts of our artisans, we can in the same way employ them in all those uses to which they are adopted, and thus render ourselves the masters and possessors of nature." (Incidentally, the phrase "practical philosophy" contains that very self-contradiction I am on the way to pointing out - for what in the world might an "applied" love of wisdom be? - whose end-result is that thorough debasement of philosophy which Hegel, with vicious humour, il lustrates in his Encyclopaedia by a new book title he found announced in an English newspaper, namely "The Art of Preserving Hair on Philosophical Principles . ") Speaking very broadly, then, ever since Descartes to be "scientific" means to introduce the Cartesian method or to approach matters of any sort as a natural scientist. As one little sample of the scope and pervasiveness of the method, I might quote from just such an application, Emile Durkheim's fundamental essay on sociology, called "The Rules of Sociological Method ." In this book he says: "that what the method demands is that the sociologist put himself in the same state of mind as the physicist, chemist, or physiologist. " I have introduced this insufficient little disquisition on method to complete the description of the arts side of the liberal arts . Arts are rules for the direction of the mind, binding precepts. Medieval writers, who are still much concerned with the nature of the curricular arts, emphasize this by their understand- 12 - ing of the etymology of the Latin word "artes" itself. The same Cassiodorus I mentioned before, as well as Isidore of Seville, claims that arts ~re so called because, in Latin, "artant arte" (translated : "they bind strictly"). Thus the arts appear to be the opposite of free or freeing. Again Cassiodorus - the work, inci dentally, in whichhe introduces thepagan liberal arts into Christendom is called the Institutes of Divine and Worldly Arts - recognizes this problem by rather shamelessly claiming that "liberal" comes from "liber, "book, thus turning the free arts into the bookish arts, a characterization which does, of course, in view of the traditional nature of the arts, have some appropriateness. John of Salisbury, again, catches another aspect in understanding "liberal" as pertaining to "liberi, " children, so that the arts are here in terpreted as the education of children, which also has some truth in it. A last medieval writer, Hugo St. Victor, in his very acute discussion of the liberal arts called the Didascalicon, the "Teacher's Manual, " takes full account of the fact that the arts are con straining and that they are, perforce, taught by masters to the immature: "They are indeed the best instruments and rudiments for preparing the way for the soul of a full knowledge of philosophi cal truth. This is why they are called the three-way (the trivium) and the fourway (the quadrivium) . . . . Of Pythagoras too it is said that he employed in his studies- a special custom." (I should remark here that the introduction of the quadrivium is traditionally attributed to Pythagoras, a Greek "mathematician" of the sixth century B. C., , the same one who is said to have introduced the word philosophia, liter ally the "love of, or friendship, for wisdom"). "For seven years, " Hugo continues, "obviously corresponding to the seven liberal arts, none of his students might dare to demand of him a reason for what he said, but the words of the master had to be taken on faith until the student hadheard everything and could thus find the reason for himself." With this story Hugo acknowledges that the very arts intended to make the independent search for knowledge possible must come to the student as to a child, in a constraining and authoritative way. We all know that this aspect of the teaching of the arts is usually predominant . At the beginning of the eighteenth century appeared a work which crystalizes the development which I am sketching, and which foreshadows, in an almost uncanny way, the problem of our own educational situation, Giambatista Vico's exp anded lecture On the Study Plan of Our Time. Vico understands what he calls "the genius of his time, " his modernity, in terms of the menacing - 13- �dominance of the scientific method; the whole .work is a reaction of somewhat concealed but vehement opposition to Bacon and Des cartes. He describes the method of the latter, which he calls the "new critical philosophy," as intending to be "the common instrument of all our arts and sciences," which "supplies us with something fundamentally true of which we can be certain even when as sailed by doubt. " There are also particular instruments such as the telescope, the microscope, the universities, the printing press, which assist in the discovery and mastery of nature and in the wide dispersion of that knowledge. · But of all these the most powerful instrument is "analysis," that is, algebra, which represents the method in all its characteristic aspects, in its brevity, ease, communicability, power. Vico, although he acknowledges these virtues, is at heart disturbed by the predominance of training in these swift and certain manipulations in the study programs of young men. He believes that "the greatest drawback of our educational plan is that we pay an excessive amount of attention to the natural sciences and not enough to matters of human conduct." Vico, who delivered this lecture in his official capacity as Professor of Rhetoric at the University of Naples, wants to lead the university back to an emphasis on the uncertain, understood as the probable, which, he conceives, was taught in traditional logic. He wants the imagination again to be trained by poetry, the common sense by the wisdom of the ancients and the judgement by the opin ions of contemporary men. In short, he wants the universities to give more weight to what we call the humanities, which are for him comprised in rhetoric. He is initiating, under the guise of the then current topic of the quarrel between the ancients and the moderns, the deeply shallow division of university learning into the "two cultures" of humanism and science with which we are more than ever afflicted. Now note what lies at the root ofthis quarrel. It is the difference between method and non-method. Let him who is not to be a physicist or mechanic, Vico says, "not spend much time as a boy or afterwards in those studies which are handed on by method." The founders of such studies are compared to tyrants who scatter the inhabitants of a city to prevent opposition, who hobble individual judgment with rules, and gravest of all, who know nothing of free speech. The distinction between studies is based only secondarily on the nature of the objects involved, and primarily on the kind of approach used. But this distinction leads to an almost paradoxical classification. The natural sciences alone are artful, in the sense of being methodical, while all that concerns not the experts but humanity in common is artless, that is, free, but only in the sense of having no strict procedure, and being dependent on the taste and talent of each individual. Vico himself does not fail to issue a demand for the unification of the study plan of universities, but, I submit, his own understanding of the di vision of studies makes this unification permanently im possible, as the present state of universities, 250 years after Vico 's lecture, shows. For so long as the sciences are regarded as the rigorously reasoned but inhuman business of a group specially habituated to a certain theoretical procedure, while a vast con glomeration of interests called the humanities are in the hands of professors who do ·not take quite so great a professional pride in their ability to think rigorously as in the meticulousness of their sensibility, clearly no power on earth, not even that benevolent coercion, an interdisciplinary credit requirement, can persuade very many students to study seriously in both divisions. For everyone will plead that his preferences are really the expression of his aptitudes and that he has, as the case may be, that famous "block" against mathematics or against languages. And so the liberal arts disappear, torn apart into the humanly rudderless artfulness of scientific method and the willful freedom of organized idiosyncracy. As I have tried to show, this division, driven to pernicious extremes in the universities, is in fact already inherent in the very notion of the liberal arts and in any liberal arts program, and our problem raises the possibility that the very neces sity of the paradox points to some understanding which, instead of perpetuating the division, will heal it by showing it to be an indis pensable and yet a merely intermediary phase of a truly human education. To point out this possibility will, among other things, mean giving aid and comfort to that serious student whose diffi culties with our program are precisely that it presents himat fixed and perhaps privately inappropriate times with prepared problems and procedures, which may all seem to shunt aside rather than meet his own concerns and doubts. In particular, there are those well-known scandals, the so-called classics of tradition, the foremost food of solid schools, which, although presented as containing what human wisdom there is, seem to insist on speaking in terms infuriatingly remote and "academic." And yet every student acknowledges with his act of matriculation that he is in need of an organized community of learning where there will perforce be a set sequence of studies such as can take little account of the con tingencies of the single human soul, and that whatever skills and arts there are can hardly be transmitted otherwise than in the terms of those who perfected them, so that in the beginning, at -15- - 14- �least, their rules and precepts and requirements must be subrni~ ted to. What troubles him, and rightly, is how he himself fares m this beneficent assault, how the tyranny exercised by the arts can ever succeed in setting him free from confusion and impotence. The problem can now be formulated in this way: how can the arts be the freeing arts? Let me put that same problem one last time in terms of a simple and pointed formula. Human inquiry proceeds either .Qy setting problems or by asking questions. I would by no means claim that the distinction between them which I am about to offer is simply a general fact of language usage; in fact, the Cartesian work which formulates the "rules for the direction of the mind" toward problems specifically terms these "questiones ." But it is sufficiently pervasive at present for my pur~ose. Vico h~d, v~ry accurately, seen the essence of Descartes new method m ~ i_ n strument which he regarded as a great danger to the hum~ sp1r_1t, in "analysis" or algebra. Now Descartes himself received this instrument from a great but insufficiently acknowledged predec~s sor Franciscus Vieta by name. His fundamental essay, which has ' the significant name "Introduction to the Analytical Art,_ " end s with the following stupendous claim: "Finally, the analytical art appropriates to itself · by right the proud problem of problems, which is: TO SOLVE EVERY PROBLEM." We are still or rather, more than ever, dominated by Vieta's immense ambition. We see everywhere and in everything problems which w_e expect to solv_e by the application of some general method - that is why we submit to the tyranny of a training. We speak of the "problem of freedom" or the "problem of God." Our griefs are called "personal problems," and if they are expressed in a form annoying to others, "personality problems;" our aches and pains are "health problems," our vices "drinking problems" and the like; our public statements, especially lectures, · frequently recur to "the problem under examination. " What is a problem? Again it will be useful to go back to the original meaning of the word in Greek. A problema is simply "something thrown out before" us, anything from an outwork, that is a defensive structure thrown out before a military camp, to a ta~k set before someone to be done. The word was also used with a special meaning in geometry, where it signified that a construction was to be furnished rather than a theorem demonstrated. For instance, the last book of Euclid's Elements culminates in a series -16- .. of problems, the constructing of the five regular solids; and the propositions read, in abbreviated form: "to construct a pyramid", "to construct an oct$edron, " a cube, an icosahedron, a dodeca~ hedron. An ancient commentator observes that in some sense all problems are theorems, for "we regard the generation that takes place in them as referring not to actual making but ta' knowledge, " and Euclid presents his problems in this theoretical way. But there is a procedure which is special to problems as distinct from theorems and which the Greeks called "analysis;" here is the source of this important method, which consists essentially in imagining the construction as having already been done, and then analyzing it, that is, breaking it up, to discover how it could have been done. The elements which, as the technical phrase goes, wUl "do the problem" are then put back together or " synthesized. " Furthermore, Aristotle, using the word "problem" in a logical context, distinguishes it, in his Topics, from the straight-forward interrogative proposition by the manner of the response expected; the problematic form constrains the answer to be an affirmative or a negative, as, for example in the question: "Is it, or is it not the case that animal is the genus of man", while the propositional form simply asks: "Is animal the genus of man?" We see that there are three related aspects to a problem. It is first of all a challenge, a publicly enunciated task requiring a solution in its own terms; secondly, its solution usually has the nature of a construction which may well be a theoretical construct; and finally and fundamentally, a problem is characteristically that which requires a solution, that is to say it requires its own aboli tion; a solved problem is no longer a problem, and problems once solved are very legitimately forgotten. Take as an example the famous problem of squaring the circle, attacked in the past with veritably fanatical persistence. When in 1882 this problem was solved, or rather resolved, by being proved to be insoluble, ~e many clever efforts made in its behalf all, at a stroke, lost their interest except for antiquarians or slightly unhinged characters, like Public Prosecutor Par avant in Thomas Mann 's Magic Mountain, who, laying out a piece of string on the circumference of a circle, . attempts to catch the problem napping, as it were, by suddenly pouncing on the string and stretching it into the shape of a square. This self-destroying nature of a problem is acknowledged by Bacon and Vico and Kant, who all use for their new method, the method which turns every question into a soluble problem, the metaphor of Ariadne's clue, the thread which lead Theseus out of the laby-17- �rinth to safety after he had killed the monster at the center . Problems have a fourth aspect, which is the one most relevant in my present context. In the Republic Socrates makes a special point of introducing problems into the quadrivium. He says: "Then in astronomy, as in geometry, we should employ problems and let the heavens alone . . . . " We have some evidence of what he meant by "employing problems" and "letting the heavens alone, " since Plato is said to have set for his students the problem of rationalizing the irregularity of the visible heavenly motions by going beyond them to form mathematical hypotheses. The word "hypothesis" as used here designates the solution of the special kind of problem which calls for a mathematical fiction such as shall, without itself laying any claim to being true, provide a rational underpinning for the errant appearances of nature . What hypo .: . theses are produced is never quite so interesting as that they should be produceable . From this point of view Socrates' call for the use of problems by lear ners, that is , the demand that they should construct hypotheses , is a demand that they should learn by exercising their skills on questions the answers to which are fun damentally indifferent. We are all very familiar with a rather low example of this teaching device : the practice problem . For in stance, an analytic geome t ry textbook may present a student with the problem (I choose one of a multitude): "Show analytically that the latus rectum of a parabola is of length 4a . " This is the very model of a problem, showing explicitly what everyproblem at least implies . To begin with, the author and the student are both aware t,hat the problem is not waiting for the latte r to be solved - his solution is in itse lf of no interest. Furthermore he is to "show analytic ally " wh at i s r equir ed, and he unders tands immediately that this means "show by c ons tructing an equation," "show algebraic ally . " Just as the arts have in them the seeds of the scientific method, so the very notion of problem h as in it an invitation to analysis or algebra; you wi ll r emembe r that analys is was originally a geometric procedure in which a construction is r egarded as accomplish ed from the very beginning and then analyzed . But thi s is precise ly what the fundament al algebr aic form , the "formula" or equation, does for general numbers , fo r when I write 3x =l2, I am putting down a mathematical sentence which r equires no question mark, much as if I already knew the answer, and all I ne ed to do to make that answer explicit is to analyze out the unknown number by re organizing the equation . Now I can simply read off: x= 12 = 4 . 3 The solution, four, does away with and abolishes the problem, for when I substitute it in place of x, the equation becomes an identity, a useless tautology . . But most significantly, the unknown is found wholly in terms of the original problem so that the solution reaches in no way beyond it. Now, this procedure, although most nakedly apparent in mathematics, may be used in any art, and, as some people think, even in those human enterprises which go beyond the arts , if on ly their terms have been compacted into recognized obstacles, outworks inviting attack, that is problems. This i s in fact our predominant way . Let me now say what a problem is in terms of all that has gone before. A problem is a sham question, a counterfeit ques tion. For a genuine question is the desire for an answer, and it does not dis solve when an answer is gained anymore than love necess a rily disappears because its object is won. A genuine question does not demand an answer in its own terms or on its own level, but seeks its des ire wherever it may hope to find it, remaining open to any intim ation its object might give. Nor will it rest satisfied by a constr uct or a fiction fabricated only to set it at rest, fo r it wants only what i s in itself worth having. Problems are ultimately exercise s , mere means, but questions are the serious and final human business. Let me try to formulate this once more. Is there something which human beings have for them selve s , which is so very much our own that if we found a creature that posse sse d that same ability we would count it as human, no matte r what its shape? Or, to put it in the opposite way, a very contemporary way: is there not something that we can be certain the m ost c omplex computer can never do? There is such a thing. The most s ophistic ated machine can never ask a question . F or it c an never fe e l the de s ire to know, which is the heart of a ques tion. This des ire, the de sire in a true question, is not for a p r e-conceiv e d x, hidden but present and entangled with all the terms at hand, but for something beyond. If, for instance, I s eriously as k "what hum an learning might be?" I do not want my question transformed into the problem of desc r ibing learning "systematically" or of "measuring it methodically," or of finding its "correlative pheno mena, " or even of "constructing an effective theory" of learning, but I want to gr asp what it truly is whenever it takes place. Here my very question implies that everything that is presented to me about learning, in observation or in books, is external and insuf ficient; I want to know for myself, and yet, in the common langu- -18- 19- �age of human beings, what makes the thing what it is . I am not looking for a pre-conceived x, unknown for the moment but so involved with and defined by the problem itself that I need only to re-arrange the terms cleverly enough to get a solution, but I want something beyond these, namely the reason why the thing is what it is, and I want this reason to be freely communicable. Every "academic" search, particularly the kind nowadays called "research, " moves strictly within the set terms of its discipline, and is therefore usually of interest only to the expert specialist, while many others can live without it: the quest of a question alone is after that without which we can hardly be said to live our lives, at least as human beings. So it is the genuineness of the desire in a question which keeps it open, keeps it from pre-judging the answer by setting it terms. There are no "traditional, " inherited, questions; every question is my own, and yet every such question is generic to human beings, insofar as they are human. Here now is the place to say something about "the Tradi tion" and its relevance to the quest for truth and the love of wisdom. The unreflective opinion of the times has it that human wisdom is both cumulative and automatically transferrable. We speak all the time of "our rapidly increasing knowledge," "our recent achievements and advances, " "our breakthrough" in this or that field, as if each contemporary human magically acquired the results of the research carried on by thousands of different people. Ridiculously we talk as if human beings were no longer born as naked little babies who have to begin the learning process at the beginning and who have perhaps a quarter century to invest in it . Now the Pla tonic dialogue The Statesman does envision a race of men born old and, perhaps, wise, who return in the course of their lives to a first childhood. But this race lives when the world's time is reversed, in the Golden Age when a god sits at the temporal tiller of the cosmos. In our present, mortally governed, world we have to begin at the beginning . Undeniably, the disciplines of the quadrivium, more modernly speaking, of mathematics and the sciences, are "progressive," in the sense of being capable of becoming more and more sophisticated and potent tools of research and manipula tion. But this does not for a moment mean that the young man who "inherits" such subjects in their advanced state has inherited accumulated knowledge. The wisdom of babes may indeed be powerful, but it is almost always bought at the expense of a reflective understanding of the terms and first elements of the science in question, for such an understanding becomes almost inaccessible when the beginnings of a disciplinewhich arose progressively, that is, as a continuous sequence of problems, are relegated to mere history. Most posses"sors of such latter-day knowledge are, I say, prodigious babies, Peter Pans of wisdom who, incapable of remembering their past, lightly fly hither and thither over their own fantastic islands, having lost their mother and the ground under their feet. Those, on the other hand, who are willing, as you are, to go more slowly in order to keep solid ground underfoot, will soon find themselves involved in the dialogue of tradition. It is a telling fact that a work by the very founder of modern physics, the one which introduces the New Astronomy to the public, is itself written in dialogue form and includes among its participants his Greek predecessor : in Galileo's Dialogue Concerning the Chief Two World Systems, Aristotle, the founder of the ancient physics, is literally present in the shape of a book in the pocket of one of the interlocutors; this is Galileo's way of acknowledging that the basis of the New Sciences is the responsive repudiation of the .tradition. On the other hand, in those studies which are not progressive in their original design but only insofar as they are forcibly assimilated to the natural sciences, for instance, in psychology, anthropology and sociology (the accounts of the soul, of man and of community) the tradition is yet more than the grollnd of the present - it is that present itself, for quite aside from the incidental fact that our times seem to me to show a strong decline of wisdom concer-ning these matters, the tradition, just because it is not progressive, consists. of a conversation in which the participants listen to each other, circumvent, re-invent and echo each other, so that while temporal in its parts, it is timeless, or ever-pre. ent, s as a whole. It is in this sense that it seems tome possible that our West alone has atradition, that this strange dialogue of contempo· raries who are yet bound into their times, this sequence of acceptance and betrayal, can take place only through books in the Western sense-;.books of arguable "theory" rather than of spiritual practice. This conjecture is supported by circumstances of the following sorts: the the Indians, for instance, seem to have no word for philosophy, for that search for a wisdom which is a comrp.unicable activity rather than a silent possession. Now how are the members of this tradition established? This is the general version of the perennial question: how do we choose our seminar books?, for the tradition comes to us through books. What books are these? Are we entirely at the mercy of our -20- -21- �library catalogues? We are indeed. It seems to me just as possible that there are momentous manuscripts which are. quite unknown as that unworthy books become c anonized. But all in all, I think we can trust the consensus of reading mankind as shown in the quantity of the pr opagation of a book. We can do this so much the more safely because of ahuman fact which,I have always marvelled at - that worthy works attract the professional industry of legions of people who have no interest in their contents . A principal example of this in my own experience is the crowd of classical philologists, those "scientific language microscopists," as· Nietzsche calls them, who fill libraries with comment on the attendant circumstances of wisdom. · What single trait distinguishes the persons acknowledged as belonging to the tradition? Here we must refer once again to the distinction made between history and tradition. The persons of history, if there be such a science, must be, as Hegel says, nations . The persons of tradition are single and special human souls . If there be such an item as "the Greek mind, "if for instance it was the pervasive quirk of canonical Greeks to believe in visible gods, then the authors of the classic al tradition have probably overcome that quirk and are certainly not of that mind. For these authors are usually radicals; this is why they are at worst ignored and at best considered dangerous in their own times. So that if for ins tance, the Olympian gods appear in the Homeric poems: they may safely be suspected of playing there a role deeply different from that which they played in the mind of "the Greeks, " a problematic, perhaps even an ironic, role. Hence so-called "historical backgrounds" can never help to understand the central intention of works of tradition (except, perhaps, to set off the foreground of thought by contrast), since history does not make that which is valuable in the tradition - although the tradition sometimes makes history. For the authors of tradition sound a reflective descant on the common opinions of mankind and the peculiar opin ions of their nation - and so these opinions sometimes modulate . The tradition is, then, always problematic, and it is for this reason that no one is born into it. As children we become entan g led in a web of accepted opinions and conventions ; in youth we begin, largely by means of books, to break out of this cocoon into the light of the tradition, and this cannot help but be a laborious but monu mentous phase of our lives. Nowadays most of the earliest serious reading done is contemporary, and this raises a· question which I -22- will put very outrageously: Are contemporary writings ever part of the tradition? Ort what is the same thing: Are contemporary writings ever relevant to the human condition? There seems to be no inherent reason why they should not be, though it is, per haps, as unlikely for a "contemporary" to enter into the realm of tradi tion as for the camel to go through the needle's eye, simply because it is essentially the agreeably conforming, even if apparently shocking, which instantaneously fascinates and becomes popular, while the tradition is alw ays somewhat uncomfortable, not to say repulsive. Especially at present, the contemporary, with its accent on the new, the changeable and the young, tends to be sham radical, and its problems tend to be derivative and, in fact, anti quated. For to begin with, it is self-defeating to insist on newness and youth as independent goods, forgetting that newness and youth are conditions which by their very nature have no future. But more important, the easy revolt of the contemporary scene is an opposition almost entirely deter mined by that which is rejects, a mirror image of common current opinion, contllining all the flaws of the older opponent in reverse, a counteraction in the manner of a brute body whose reaction is equal to the action upon it. Such mere behavior is truly "reactionary." I will give an example. In 1864 Dostoyevsky published a manifesto of genuine despair over civilization,called Letters from the Underworld, in which he wrote : "I solemnly declare to you that I have often wished to become an insect, but could never attain my desire." In this century, over a generation ago, Franz Kafka wrote a dreadful story called "The Metamorphosis, " in which one young man, a travelling salesman, in silent desperation over what present day j argon would call "middle class values " painfully turns hims elf into a great cockroach. In the 1960's, finally, a whole swarm of youngmen turn themselves into Beatles with the most exuberant facility, and the underground man emerges in amiable companies, his eyes shielded against the unwonted sun, his inarticulate wisdom pinned to him on a printed button, his ways mildly lawless, his uniform completely determined by opposition to rosily wholesome suburbanity, a harmless, institutionalized latter-day version of the prophetic, criminal outcast of the Western traditim. It is, then, the very radicality of the tradition whi ch makes it so inaccessible. F or to become absorbed in the tradition means quite simply to break away both from one's own private idiom and the current public jargon into the language of humanity, to com municate, not in the current sense of "being effective " or "making - 23- �contact, " but in the sense of entering the human community. The traditional authors, who speak that language, must always seem somewhat forbidding, for this human tongue is much more boldly simple and subtly complex than the dialect of our place and time. It takes time to grow simple and subtle and requires a certain willing trust in the wisdom of these initiators and guides, who are as yet untried strangers, but such an expense of present, yo~thful time is the best way of insuring a future in which ardour will on the whole outweigh melancholy. For at best a faithful student has hope of sharing the experience of Dante in his journey through the world of the soul, when, in the face of hell, his guide and teacher Virgil "placed his hand on mine, and with a cheerful countenance, which comforted me, led me into the secret things. " And at worst he will have learned to make a knowledgeable and dignified retreat into the decent pleasures of the practical life. But, you will recall, I entered upon this consideration of the tradition after I had defined traditional problems as sham questions, almqst as if traditional learning of necessity interfered with genuine questioning. For questioning is that situation of determined openness in which the soul, willingly attentive to the apparent and the immediate, encounters even in its deepest delights certain difficulties and perplexities which, out of its very love and concern for things, it is determined to face and resolve, or not think life worth living; it is the "ardent mood" of the soul which is well-composed and free. If this enterprise is carried on with a certain trust in its possibility, it is called the love of wisdom. But the traditional questions come to the learner as "problems, "by which I mean as another's question, which is, if anything is, a contradiction in terms. In sum, all formal study, perhaps even all purposeful conversation, must give up living thought to "formulations." Nay more - evidently Western tradition itself must needs progress along the road, which Nietzsche characterizes as lead~ ing from the forms of Plato to the formulas of algebra. of our life of learning in which our unknown source fails us - for it i s more arduous to maintain the condition of openness than a state of levitation - we must expect to be sometimes prey to the mortal's malady, the confusion of the soul induced by the futile passing of precious time . But in this understanding of that sickness there is implicit the suggestion of a cure : _ fix stubbornly to and determinedly on that present preparation, that acquisition of the problem- solving arts and the problem -posing tradition, which is certainly at least the pre-condition of a questioning life, a life worth living . In the words of the tradition as represented once more by the Didascalicon of Hugo St. Victor: "Therefore it seems to me that first an effort should be made in the arts, for here are the foundations of every thing and in them pure and simple truth is opened up ; most of all I am thinking of the seven of which I have spoken which are the instruments of all philosophy . . . . But philosophy is the love and the pursuit and, in a manner of speaking, the friendship felt for wisdom ; not, however, for that wisdom which is concerned with some kind of hardware and any sort 9f applied science and expertise - he says : quae in ferramentis quibusdam et in allqua fabrili scientia notitiaque versatur - but of that wisdom which needs nothing and is living thought and the sole original reason for things ~ vivax mens et sola rerum primaeva ratio. " I cannot resolve this, the problem of my lecture and the question in my mind. I herewith hand it over to you, without,of course, myself relinquishing it. The study of the liberal arts, which are the public and adequate learning procedures, and of their fruits, which are the various bodies of knowledge, as well as the absorption of the reflective tradition which is based on them, can only provide materials, tools and a language for questioning; the love of wisdom itself cannot be gainedby study; and for that portion -24- 25 - �� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Collegian Description An account of the resource The Collegian began as a student newspaper; became a college community literary publication in 1952 and continued until 1969; became a student newspaper again in 1969; discontinued publication from 1980 until 1989 when it again became a student literary publication. 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For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anthony, George (Editor) Anthony, Meredith (Editor) Title A name given to the resource The Student's Problem, Lecture on the Liberal Arts by Eva Brann (Collegian Supplement, October 1967) Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1967-10 Description An account of the resource Supplement to The Collegian entitled "The Student's Problem". Published in October 1967. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Collegian Supplement, October 1967 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 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Brann, Eva T. H. The Collegian https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/054f6d7b53bdee4c8a01a4d010c67a4e.pdf c9fd1d09fd09ffec57fc46865015a5e2 PDF Text Text �PALAESTRA Spring 1968 Cover, silkscreen Daniel Sullivan Faraday's Thought on Electromagnetism Thomas K. Simpson 1. Photograph Mark Sittler 9. Three Poems Stephen Morse 10 . Study : Composition, Texture, and Mood Steven Dos Remedios 11. Justa Moment Foxe Jackson 12 . Ink Drawing Jim Villere 13 . Game By Pairs Anthony Snively 14 . Self Portrait, conte c r ayon Deborah Massell 15 . Saul John Dean 16 . Saul Danie l Sullivan 17 . The Power s of Darkness Anne Lyons 18 . Chess Pr ob lem David Roberts 22 . PALAESTRA St. John 's College Annapo lis , Maryland, 21404 Editors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. .. . . . George and Meredith Anthony Associ ate Edi tors .. .. . . ... . .. ; .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . Steve F orman, Masha Zager Assistant Editor .. . .. .. . .. .. . . . . . . ... ... . . . . . . . .. . . ... .. Daniel Sullivan Faculty Advisor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . • . . . . Ev a Br ann �-1- FARADAY 'S THOUGHT ON ELECTROMAGNETISM · by Thomas K. Simpson, tutor This is part of the first chapter ofa study of a neglected great book, James Clerk Maxwell's Treatise on Ele_s:tricity and Magnetism. The Treatise appeared on the original reading list of the new program, but apparently was taken off just in time for my senior year in 1950; I never. read it as a student. Apparently it was a hard book to incorporate in the program. The problem of my study is, really, how to read a book of analytic mathematical physics. Interestingly, it develops that the book and the problem are well matched, since Maxwell, writing one of the last great works of natural philsophy, is wrestling with the question, how to write a book of analytic mathematical physics in such a way that it can be read with understanding. Maxwell wages a relentless struggle with the symbols throughout the book, trying all the while to develop a rehetoric of mathematical physics which will make the equations intelligible. The present chapter is not about the Treatise, however, but about another great book (also a dropout from the reading list ), Faraday's Experimental Researches in Electricity. The reason why the study starts with the wrong book is given in the first pages. --T.K.S. In an extraordinary way, Maxwell's Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism presupposes that the reader is already familiar with another book, Far aday ' s Experimental Researches in Electricity . One can indeed master the Treatise without having read Faraday, but such an approach cannot lead to the understanding which Maxwell deeply desires to share with the reader. Many works refer repeatedly to a single principal source, but there must be few which command their readers as Maxwell does in a footnote to Chapter III of Part IV : "Read Faraday's Experi mental Researches, Series i and ii". r As I have asserted earlier, Maxwell has designed his Treatise as a faithful translation of Faraday's Researches, and throughout, Faraday is the mainspring of the work and the guide to its development. But Maxwell not only draws upon Faraday as his source; in a curious way he makes this source the object of his work as well. We are directed back to Faraday, to read with renewed appreciation and understanding: If by anything I have here written I may assist any student in understanding Faraday's modes of thought and expression, I shall regard it as the accomplishment of one of my principal aims--to communicate to others the same de light which I have found myself in reading Far aday ' s Researches. 2 It is therefore essential that the present study of Maxwell's Treatise should begin with some consideration of Faraday's Experimental Researches .. No summary can convey either the content or the character of Faraday's writing. As perhaps the ultimate example of their genre, the literature of scientific inquiry organized episodically in linked series, they are· a texture of speculation and inteligent experiment so interwoven that it is virtually impossible to isolate significant sections from their context of detail. The point of the work is in effect this very mass of theme and variation . What I hope 1 James Clerk Maxwell, A Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism ( 3rd ed., 2 vols .; Oxford: 1892 ), ~. p . 178 . ( This is the edition currently available in a Dover reprint. ) Maxwell, Treatise, 1, p . xi. to do in this chapter, rather, is first to discuss the nature of science as Faraday conceives and practices it, and then to identify certain principal insights which Faraday tended to bring to bear on electromagnetism in his later work. These last constitute the primary material with which Maxwell works in Part IV of the Treatise . Since it appears to me that these insights, however powerful, by no means constitute a theory, I have titled the present chapter simply "Faraday's Thought on Electromagnetism," and not "Faraday's Theory " . As we shall see, one way of looking at the "translation" of Faraday's ideas which Maxwell ac complishes is exactly as the transformation from the mode of empirical inquiry in which the Researches are cast, to that of theory, demonstrated in a systematic treatise. Faraday developed two concepts which became increasingly significant in his thought about magnetic and electromagnetic effects . One was of course his concept of "lines of force" . He was impressed by this notion early when he spoke of the lines merely as representations, and called them, as others did, the "magnetic curves." Toward the end of his work, they bore nearly the whole burden of his thought on these topics, and he speculated increasingly about their possible "physical existence . " The other funda mental concept was that of the electrotonic state . This is now less familiar to students of science, but for Faraday it was both significant and deeply troubling, and he returned to it, as Maxwell points out, again and again from its first introduction in connection with the induction experiments of Series I in 1831, to the end. Essentially, Faraday was convinced that the surge of current which he observed in the secondary circuit in electromagnetic induction could not occur unless the secondary conductor had been initially in a state of electric tension, which was relaxed when the primary circuit was broken. The term "electrotonic" was manufactured to express this electric tension . As we shall see, Maxwell's translation of Faraday's thought on electromagnetism turns about these two notions, the "lines of force" and the "electrotonic state . " For Maxwell, then, these will become funda mental concepts in a connected theory. But what G 1968 Thomas K. Simpson �-2 sort of use does Faraday himself make of them? I think it becomes clear on a reading of the Experi mental Researches that Faraday does not use them as elements of a scientific theory in any formal sense . Even if we were not to ask for a connected or complete theory, doubt arises whether concepts in Faraday's hands even tend toward inclusion in a provisional theoretical structure . The question, indeed, becomes more fundamental : does science, for Faraday, grow toward a theoretical shape, or does it develop toward something else altogether, not theory, but an account of a different kind? humility in his descriptions of his more modest work. In a moment of triumph following upon the discovery of electromagnetic induction and the ex planation it afforded of the Arago disk phenomenon, he wrote to his friend Richard Phillips: We might attempt to answer the question by puting Faraday's account to certain tests, asking it to do the kinds of things theories are expected to do : to solve "problems," to "predict" phenomena on the basis of certain given conditions, or to yield general "theories" through logical argument from assumed premises . But these functions , though they are surely among the proper tasks of an effective scientific theory, are precisely those which Faraday does not undertake. There is a suggestion of a moral note in Faraday's rejection of theory, as will become clearer when we look at his characterizations of the true form which science should take. In relation to mathematics, this passage from the work which Faraday early adopted as his pocket guide, Isaac Watts' Improvement <Ethe Mind, may be significant : Faraday was almost totally uneducated in mathematics . It is difficult to grasp the significance of this fact for science. However brilliantly he sue ceeded in self-educationin other areas, he apparently never felt it necessary to acquire the mathematics he had missed. The result is that he does not have before him with any vividness that universal paradigm of a reasoned deductive system, toward which virtually all competent physics over the ages has tried to shape itself. In particular, Faraday apparently never studied Euclid; he has no working notion of a system of axioms and postulates, or of reasoning leading with logical rigor to universal theorems. ·· There is at least the possibility that this innocence of mathematics represents not m e rely acci dental ignorance, but a deliberate rejection. We are blessed with the record of a remarkable exchange of correspondence between Faraday and AndreMarie Ampere, the French philosopher and mathematical physicist, whose work on electrodynamics Duhem once called "a theory which dispenses with the Frenchman's need to e nvy the Englishman's pride in the glory of Newton." Here Faraday confronts his opposite, a brilliant mathematical theorist, andin the course of the correspondence Faraday finds occasion to describe his view of his own role . We shall return to this in greater detail below, but note this r eac;tion of Faraday's when confronted with a mathematical argument of Ampere's: I regret that my deficiency in m athematical knowledge makes me dull in comprehending these subjects. I am naturally skeptical in the matter of theories and therefore you must not be angry with me for not admitting the one you have advanced immediately . . . 3 This skepticism of theory, I b elieve, turns him away from mathematics almost on principle. He tends to regard mathem aticians as operating on a height, while his own work, as experimentalist, is close to nature, and to fact; it would be a mistake, I believe, to overlook the e l ement of pride which mixes with 3 Faraday to Ampere, Sept. 3, 1822. L. de Launay, Correspondence du Grand Ampere ( 3 vols ; Paris: Gau thier-Villiars, 1936-1943 ), 3, p. 911. It is quite comfortable to me to find that experi - ment need not quail before mathematics , but is quite competent to rival it in discovery ; and I am amazed to find that what the high mathe maticians have announced as the essential con dition to the rotation ... has so little founda tion .... 4 But a penetration into the abstruse difficulties and depths of modern algebra and fluxions, the various methods of quadratures ... and twenty other things that some modern mathematicians deal in, are not worth the labour of those who design either of the three learned professions .. This is the sentence of a considerable man . . who was a very good proficient writer on these subject; he affirms, that they are but barren and airy studies for a man entirely to live upon ... He adds further, concerning the launch ing into the depth of these studies, that they are apt to beget a secret and refined pride, an over-bearing vanity, the most opposite temper to the true spirit of the gospel. This tempts them to presume on a kind of omniscience in respect to their fellow-creatures, who have not risen to their e levation ... 5 Faraday remained, in a phrase he used without, I think, any hint of apology, an "unmathematical philosopher." Maxwell grew up solving problems; as a child, h e carried them with him for spare moments, calling them his "pr obs"; as a man, he filled his Treatise with them. By contrast, for all we know, no teache r may ever have set F araday a problem, ever assigned him certain "givens" and required him tofindthe cor responding "unknowns." Naturally enough, then, h e does not think of his electromagnetic notions as serv ing this purpose, and a reader cannot m a ke much of th e Experimental Researches if he comes to the m with this criterion in mind. It is not only that Faraday cannot perform the operations of a lgebra or geometry, that he can make only a first approximation to a quan titative argument of any complexity. It is not only th at he uses spatial images and model s wh ere others would work with number and symbol. It is not that he us es brief arguments where others would construct theorems. To a degree, these m ay all be true of Faraday, but as I expr es s them they suggest defects; in Faraday ' s case, they must be construed as aspects of his special strength. His steps are not weak and fal tering, his works are not those of a man who hesitantly 4 Be nce Jones, The Life and Letters of F araday ( 2 vols ; Th.iladelphia: 1870 ), 2, p. 10. 5 Isaac Watts, The Improv m e nt of the Mind (Washe ington, D. C.: 18 13 ), p. 213. �-3approaches a language he has not properly learned . Faraday (for all the humility which has been attri buted to him ) steps forth ,proudly, and while he is generally cautious and of course always modest inhis public claims, he speaks with a voice as .confident and firm as that of any scientist who knows the strengths of his own method. He is speaking~ diffe rent language from that of the theoretical scientist . He is not stepping hesitantly toward a mathematical physics; he is marching confidently- along a different road. He has indeed no notion of theory as a goal of science. In retrospect, this is a fantastic situation. In the land of Newton, at a time when mathematical physics was again flourishing, some of the most creative scientific work of the century in a new and more difficult area of physics was done over a long period of years by a man who had no notion of the Principia and did not share either Newton's methods or his goals. For Faraday, Newton's classic triumph was quite meaningless, the triumph which had polarized the intellectual life of Europe for a century. How can the historian of science unders tand the success of such a deep and total disruption of any reasonable continuity in the scientific enterprise? Perhaps the ultimate challenge for the present study is to lay the groundwork for finding the significance of the Faraday-Maxwe ll episode in the development of mathematical physics . Physics seems indeed to have profited immensely from this instance of am nesia in its work , but it is well to keep in mind that the fact that this one course was followed does not mean that it was in principle a necessary "state" of development, or that it was ultimately for the "best . " There is a sense in which the serious historian must always weigh alternative histories. On the Continent there were of course a number of highly competent scientists at work on the topics which concerned Faraday, both mathematicians and experimentalists, and I think one may reasonably suppose that most of Faraday's discoveries would before long have been made by others whose thought was in the tradition stemming from Newton. The great Newtoniancounterpart of Faraday was Ampere, but there were many others, Weber, the Neumanns (father and son), Kirchoff, Lorenz, Helmholtz, Boltzmann, Hertz. There were at once capable mathematicians and skillful searchers; had electromagnetic theory developed in the hands of such workers without the peculiar turn of thought given it by Faraday and Maxwell, it is quite conceivable that physics might have passed into the modern era, more or less on schedule, as a more purely mathematical discipline, and without the digression marked by the "field" concept. Accordingly to a number of critics, the field concept was never systematically necessary, and has been the source of much confusion, beginning with the Treatise itself. 6 Faraday's unmathematical physics, therefore, developed and interpreted as it was by Maxwell, may have diverted science from a more rational course of development which would have made little or no use of the concept of the "field, " but would have left none of the phenomena unaccounted for. What thenis Faraday ' s concept of science? It is evident that he is not merely an experimentalist, cleverly providing data for theoreticians to work up into theories. On the contrary, Faraday had one of the most fertile and insistent of speculative minds; in a certain sense, he was constantly producing new hypotheses and his mind was constantly reasoning from them. The result of this, reported in the thousands of paragraphs ofthe Experimental Researches andthe still more numerous paragraphs of the Diary, is not theory, but a vast weaving and unweaving of powers, a pr?~ess of discovery and identification, a great, highly umfled formulary for the production and classification of effects . Faraday, as Tyndall proclaimed and all the world agreed, is the great "discoverer"; the paradigm for Faraday is Odysseus rather than Euclid: he travels from land to land, reporting wonders, guided by legend and myth, rumor or divine love. For Odysseus, the dominant desire is to see men's cities and to know their minds, and to gather all this together in the return to Ithaca. For Faraday, it is to investigate all the powers of nature, and to unveil them as essentially one, in the lecture hall on Albermarle Street. If Faraday did not learn this from Homer, he was moved to it by Dr. Watts: Let the hope of new discoveries, as well as the s atisfaction and pleasure of known truths, ani mate your daily industry. Do not think learning in general is arrived at its perfection, or that the knowledge of any particular subject in any science cannot be improved, merely because it has lain fivehundred or athousandyears without improvement. The present age, by the blessing of God on the ingenuity and diligence of men, has brought to light such truths in natural phi losophy, and such discoveries in the heavens and the earth, as seemed to be beyond the reach of man ... Do not hover always on the surface of things, nor take up suddenly with mere appearances ; but penetrate into the depth of matters ..• 7 Here is Faraday 's own characterization of his hope for. his chosen science of electricity, in a passage which opens the famous Series XI on induction: The science of electricity is in that state in which every part of it requires experimental investigation; not merely for the discovery of new effects, but what is just now of far more importance , the development of the means by 6 The classic cruticism of Maxwell's theory is Pierre Duhem, Les Theories Electrigues de L Clerk Maxwell ( Paris : Hermann, 1902 ). Outstanding among the more recent critics is O'Rahilly, who recommends a direct particle/particle inter action equation in the tra dition of Wilhelm Weber. Alfred O'Rahilly, Electro magnetics: .§!:Discussion of Fundamentals ( 1935 ), rep:r;inted as Electromagnetic Fundamentals ( 2 vols. ; New York: Dover Publications, 1965 ), especially pp . 645 ff. See also J. A. Wheeler and R. P. Feynman, "Classical Electrodynamics in Terms of Directinterparticle Action," Reviews of Modern .Fhysics, 21 ( 1949 ) pp . 425 ff. ,and articles by Parry Moon and D. E. Spencer, among them "A New Electrodynamics," fournal of the Franklin Institute, 257 ( 1954 ) pp. 369 ff., and "Electromagnetism without Magnetism, " Amer .J. of Physics, 22 ( 1954 ), pp . 120 ff . 7 Watts, Improvement~ the Mind.p.24 . �-4which the old effects are produced, and the consequent more accurate determination of the first principles of action of the most extraor dinary and universal power in nature :--and to those philosophers who pursue the inquiry zeal ously yet cautiously, combining experiment with analogy, suspicious of their preconceived notions, paying more respect to a fact than a theory, not too hasty to generalize, and above all things, willing at every step to cross-ex amine their own opinions, bothby reasoning and experiment, no branch of knowledge can afford so fine and ready a field for discovery as this. Such is most abundantly shown to be the case by the progress which electricity has made in the last thirty years: Chemistry and Magnetism have successively acknowledged its overruling influence; and it is probable that every effect depending upon the powers of inorganic matter, and perhaps most of those related to vegetable and animal life, will ultimately be found sub ordinate to it. (XR i/360 ) 8 I think I do not need to apologize for including this lengthy quotation entire; in one paragraph Far aday has given both his vision of nature, and the method of science proportioned to it. He describes an impasse in the science of electricity--one in which phenomena are known in plenty, but first principles are lacking. To another man, this would look like a situation which called for a theory; but for Faraday, this is precisely the situation which calls for "experimental investigation"; it is a "fine and ready •. • field for discovery. " What is to be sought? Not axioms or laws, but the principles of action of a power--the most universal in nature, which moves all of the inorganic world and perhaps for the most part the plants and animals as well . This is not something to be resolved with paper and pencil, but by facts : we see that for Faraday, the causes, the "first principles, " are not laws but themselves facts, to be unveiled to observation in the laboratory. We should remember that it was given to Odysseus to talk with Athena, face to face. 9 This is not theoretical physics; as has been suggested, it is essentially chemistry, not in the modern sense of Lavoisier, but as a science of powers, in the tradition of von Helmont and Stahl. 10 We might best underst~d Faraday as the disciple of Davy, and the Researches as the evolution of a coherent chemistry of electromagnetism. The tran slation of Faraday which Maxwell is to accomplish in the Treatise must be, among other things, the transformation of this chemistry into the form of a 8 The notation ( XR i/360 )refers to Faraday's E:x:per imental Researches in Electricity, volume i, p. 360, of the original edition, which is reproduced with the same pagination in the current Dover reprint. 9 It is impossible not to point out the striking appropriateness of the epithet which Homer regularly assigns to Odysseus: in his laboratory, Faraday is indeed the man "of many devices, " 10 "In a very real sense, all his discoveries were chemical if chemistry be defined (as it was by Faraday ) as the science of the powers of matter." L . P. Williams, in Lancelot Whyte, ed., Roger Joseph Boscovich (London: Allen & Unwin, 1961 ), p. 163. mathematical theory worthy of admission to the halls of Trinity. In this , it must be like the historic transformation of Greek thought from the mode of Homer to that of Euclid . The Experimental Researches are dense with questions--Faraday's method is that of unremitting inquiry. The very notion of a "series" of researches is, in a sense, that of a chain of linked questions and answers. Before we bring our own questions to bear on Faraday ' s work, let us listen briefly to the questions Faraday asks of himself. The underlying question for Faraday is always the same: what really exists in nature? The practical form which this takes is that of the test : what will happen if I do this? Can I produce the phenomenon, the visible or tangible evidence, which will be the sure symptom of the existence of this or that suspected power or state? Think, for example, of the discovery of the diamagnetic force , ( XR, Series 19&20 ). Faraday had first sought to reveal the state of strain in a dielectric, to which the curved lines of electric action were already a clue; using polarized light, he hoped to make manifest the existence of the hypothesized lines of action of contiguous particles . This failing, he asked the analogous question for the curved lines of action of the magnetic force: do lines of strain really exist in a diamagnetic medium? When this succeeded, and the plane of polarized light was rotated on passage through his "heavy glass" in a strong magnetic field, he announced that he had: ••• at last succeeded in magnetizing and electrifying a ray of light, and in illuminating a magnetic line of force. ( XR iii/2 ) By this, he says in a note, he ... intended to express that the line of magnetic force was illuminated as the earth is illuminated by the sun, or the spider's web illuminated by the astronomer's lamp. Employing a ray of light, we can tell by the eye, the direction of the magnetic lines through a body ... ~ iii/2 ) This I believe is a paradigm of Faraday's concept of science : to make manifest to the eye what is suspected to exist in nature. In one of his last writings about the magnetic lines of force, he carefully drew a distinction between the limited powers ofmathematicai physics as a mode of representing the forces of nature, and his own search for "the one true physical signification" of the phenomena: Indeed, what we really want is not a variety of different methods of representing the forces, but the one true physical signification of that which is rendered apparent to us by the phaenomena, and the laws governing them ... supposing that ... mathematical considerations cannot at present decide which of the views of magnetism is either above or inferior to its co-rivals; it surely becomes necessary that physical reasoning should be brought to bear upon the subject as largely as possible . For if there be such physical lines of magnetic force as correspond ( in having a real existence ) to the rays of light, it does not seem so very impossible for experiment to touch them; and it must be very im portant to obtain an answer to the inquiry �-5respecting their existence, especially as the answer is likely enough to be in the affirmative . ( XR iii/531 ) An hypothesis or a theory is nothing more than an unresolved suspicion; a part, as Tyndall suggested, of the scaffolding, not of the edifice of science itself, which moves on to deal with existences. He then demands of himself, what it is which has been revealed by the new phenomena. It is a condition of tension, and therefore of force, be cause it relaxes as soon as the magnetic induction is removed, but is it the same as the magnetic force, or different? He tests, by determining whe'.' ther the diamagnetic body responds to a magnet; not observing any motion, he concludes that: ... [ T] he molecular conditionofthesebodies, when in the state described, must be specifi cally distinct from that of magnetized iron, or other such matter, and must be~ new magnetic condition; .•• the force which the matter in this state possesses and its mode of action, must be to us a new magnetic force or mode of action of matter. ( XR iii/21 ) In other words, having made a force manifest, Faraday proceeds to identify it, by asking whether it is the same as, or specifically different from, previously known forces . The same line of inquiry, of course, in time revealed that indeed the diamagnetic material does move under the action of a magnet, but moves in a way specifically distinct from the motion of a magnetic material. The existence of the diamagnetic force, first revealed only optically, is now revealed by a second token, a specific type of motion . This motion is summarized in a law: All the phaenomena resolve themselves into this, that a portion of such matter, when under magnetic action, tends to move from stronger to weaker places or points of force. (XRiii/69 ) There follows a brilliant experimental inquiry as to the universality of the new effect, concluding with the generalization: All matter appears to be subject to the magnetic force as universally as it is to the gravitating, the electric and the chemical or cohesive forces; for that which is not affected in the manner ofordinary magnetic action, is affected in the manner I have now described ..• QIB iii/70) To reveal, to identify, and to generalize--the greatest part of the stream of Faraday's working questions serves these three ends . He frequently reasons by analogy, but for Faraday an analogy functions most often as a tentative identity, drawing him on (as in the case of the diamagnetic and magneto-optic forces ) to decide whether the two analogous powers are finally the same or different . Admittedly, Faraday is never content to rest with an unexplained phenomenon, and he moves on from a law such as that of diamagnetic action above, to ask why the action occurs. Again, this might seem to be the step into theory, which I have denied Faraday takes. Indeed, he begins a paragraph shortly after with the words, "Theoretically, an explanation of the diamagnetic bodies ... might be offered ... , " and proposes an account of diamagnetism in terms of induced polarity, a theory which was as we shall see beauti fully successful in the hands of Weber, though Faraday himself soon disowned it. But a theory for Fara day is merely a makeshift explanation, a temporary and unsatisfactory stage of science, which is dispelled as the science progresses. The explanation of dia magnetism which proved more fruitful in Faraday's hands, and which accounted as well for magnetism and magnecrystallic action (the pointing of crystals in the magnetic field ), is a good case in point. This is the theory of the conduction of lines of force: I cannot resist throwing forth another view of these phaenomena which may possible be the true one . The lines of magnetic force may perhaps be assumed as in some degree resembling the rays of light, heat, & c. ; and may find difficulty in passing through bodies, and so be affected by them, as light is affected •... the position which the crystal takes •.• may be the position of no, or of least resistance; and therefore the position of rest and stable equilibrium. (XR iii/122 - 23) I submit that the decisive words in this paragraph, for Faraday, are these: "Which may possibly be the true one ." Even if this explanation accounted for all the known phenomena, I do notbelieve Faraday would have rested for a moment until he had found out the lines of force, which here take on a new importance, and given tangible and visible evidence of their presumed passage through bodies. Only thus would the "truth" of the view be exhibited to his satisfaction. His renewed efforts to reveal the "physical lines" of force are well known. They culminate in papers of 1852 and 1855 ( XR iii/437, 528 ). Here the concern is openly for the real ("physical" ) existence of the lines, and these papers are therefore "speculative" in a way in which the disciplined researches were not; but I think it is apparent that the whole thrust of the Experimental Researches has been toward this end: to discover the powers of nature, to find out their true characters, and, finally, to produce the guarantees of their "physical" existence. In an apology for speculation, which prefaces the 1852 paper but which really speaks for the role speculation has played throughout the Researches , Faraday says : It is not to be supposed for a moment that spec - ulations of this kind are useless, or necessarily hurtful, in natural philosophy. They should ever be held as doubtful, and liable to error and to change; but they are wonderful aids in the hands of the experimentalist and mathema tician . For not only are they useful in rendering the vague idea more clear for the time, giving it something like a definite shape, that it may be submitted to experiment and calcul ation; but they lead on, by deduction and correction, to the discovery of new phenomena, and so cause an increase and advance of real PbY_sical truth, which, unlike the hypothesis that led to ---U,-becomes fundamental knowledge not subject to change . (XR iii/408; italics mine) Speculation is a thread which "leads on" toward the goal of science; the path is through "discovery of new phenomena, " ?.nd the terminus is not a completed �-6theory, but "real physical truth." What then is "fundamental knowledge not sUbject to change"? As immune to change, it must be manifest in the phenomena; as fundamental, it must consist in those select phenomena which directly reveal the primary, universal powers. Such would be phenomena which made manifest the "physical lines" of magnetic force. In his late, unpublished researches on "Time in Magnetism" Far aday was hard at the effort to capture such primary evidence. 11 In a recent biography of Faraday, L . Pearce Williams makes a striking observation about the law known as "Faraday's," relating the current induced in a circuit to the change of flux through it. Faraday certainly states the law : They also prove, generally, that the quantity of electricity thrown into a current is directly as the amount of curves intersected. (XRiii/346) Williams points out, however, that in its context in a search for sure evidence of the lines of force, this law "was not directed at electricity at all": Faraday was trying to prove that there was a certain specific amount of 'power' associated with every magnet; the induced currents merely detected this power. 12 Williams adds that Faraday was interested in the induced e lectricity in Series I~hough in the pass ages cited there Faraday was not stating the quantitative "law". I think this distinction is valid, and significant for an understanding of Faraday's purposes. Whereas the world has taken from Faraday a quantitative law relating motion in a magnetic field to induced current, Faradayhimselfhad his eye on the problem of detecting the "sphondyloid of power" about a magnet; he was seeking out an entity in nature, and using the moving wire with its law of action merely as a highly prized instrument in the search. This is the physics of the explorer, the discoverer. Throughout the Researches Faraday sought what he called "contiguity" in nature; understandably, he seeks the same contiguity in the account of nature. A work of science should record a completed exploration, a detailed mapping, without gaps, of contiguous substances and powers. Maxwell, I believe, sees this about Faraday, so that it i s not merely Faraday's clarity of view and inventiveness which attract Maxwell, but an image of the form physics might take, a physics of contiguity. In the transformation which Maxwell made of Faraday's thought, I believe his objective was not only to find a m athematical ex pression appropriate to Faraday' s electromagnetic concepts , but to bring into analytic form Faraday's insight about the nature of physics itself as a connected system. This calls for a new kind of mathematical physics, field physics. I mentioned earlier that two concepts are parti cularlyimportant in Faraday' s thinking about el ectromagnetism, name ly the "line s of force" and the "elec 11 Faraday's Diary, ed Thomas Martin ( 7 vols . ; London: G Bell & Sons, 1932 - 1936 ), 6, pp. 434-444; 7, pp. 255-333 . See T. K. Simpson, Isis, 57 (1966) pp. 423-425. 12 L. Pearce Williams, Michael Faraday( New York; Basic Books, 1965 ), p; 463, n. 51. trotonic state . " Thus far, the discussion of Faraday ' s inquiry into diamagnetism has emphasized only the former, but curiously it was the "electrotonic state" which seemed to Faraday himself the more fundamental idea, and it is this latter which Maxwell takes as the key in his translation of Faraday . For anyone who holds as I do that Faraday did not work with theories, the electrotonic state presents a special problem, since it is a concept which he never aban doned, and yet was never able to support empirically. He held it with tenacity, as we shall see, even though it remained a pure specualtion. Without attempting to trace the h istory of this elusive notion through the Experimental Researches, I should like to try to indicate its role in Faraday's thought. In Series I, it appears in effect as the vehicle for Faraday's perplexity atthe unexpected finding that an e lectric current is induced only by variation of the current in a primary circuit, or by motion of a permanent magnet. Like Fresnel, Faraday had expected a magnet to produce an electric effect in a conductor, and even after he had discovered the pulse of current on make or break of the primary circuit, he con tinued to look for the anticipated effect during steady flow of the primary current. Taking the inductive pulse as evidence of a change of this supposed state, h e names it "after advising with s everal learned friends" the electro-tonic state signifying that it is a tension in the direction of current flow in the conductor, and Series I is conceived more as the announcement of the discovery of a new state of matter, than as the discovery of the phenomenon of induced currents: Whilst the wire is subject to either volta -elec tric or magneto- electric induction, it appears to be in a peculiar state .... This electrical condition of matter has not hitherto been r e cognized, but it probably exerts a very im portant influence in many if not most of the phenomena produced by currents of electri city. ( XR i / 16 ) He has to confess, however, that he h ad found no evi de nce for the existence of the newly n amed and an nounced state whatever: This peculiar condition s hows no known electrical effects whilst it continues ; nor have I yet been able to discover any peculiar powers exerted, or properties possessed, by matter whilst retained in this state. ( XR i/16-17) The Experimental Researches thus open with a somewhat embarrassing blunder--for he never was able to find any evidence of the "state " whatever, and in Series 2 he formally withdrew the claim that it exists, though at the same time he reasserted his own conviction that it must: Thus the reasons ..... have disappear ed; and though it still seems to me unlikely that a wire at rest in the neighborhood of another carrying a powe rful el ectric current is entirely indiffe rent to it, yet I am not aware of any distinc t facts which authorize the conclusion that it is in a particular state. ( XR i /69 ) Before m aking this reluctant retraction, he had made great efforts to exhibit the existenc e of some such static state in conductors in a magnetic fie ld: that is, �-7the efforts to produce an effect in a conductor due to the mere presence of a strong magnetic field did not stop with the discovery of electromagnetic induction, but were if anything accelerated by it. The electrotonic state was the surrogate for the effect which had for years been expected, and which he still felt must exist. The experiments which he performed then, 011 copper bars and leaves in a magnetic field, were the equivalent of a search for diamagnetism or diamagnetic polarity, and the actual discovery of diamagnetism seven years later, which we have discussed above, was the outcome of essentially the same search for a state of tension due to a steady magnetic field. In effect, the persistent search for the electrotonic state yielded the diamagnetic state. Faraday himself speaks eloquently of his un remitting dedication to the search for this missing "state"; three years after the retraction, he writes: Notwithstanding that the effects appear only at the making and breaking of contact, ( the cur rent remaining unaffected, seemingly, in the interval ) I cannot resist the impression that there is some connected and correspondent effect produced by this lateral action of the elements of the electric stream [ that is, the magnetic action of the current ] during the time of its continuance ..• there appears to be a link in the chain of effects, a wheel in the physical mechanism of the action, as yet unrecognized. If we endeavor to consider electricity and magnetism as the results of two forces of a physical agent, or a peculiar condition of matter, exerted in determinate directions perpendicular to each other ... ( XR i / 342 ) He is seeking in the electrotonic state a "physical agent" of which electricity and magnetism are merely two manifestations. In 1852, some thirty years after Se ries I, he reasserts his faith, now linking the search with that for the physical lines of magnetic force: Again and again the idea of an electro-tonic state ... has been forced on my mind; such a state would coincide and become identified with that which would then constitute the physical lines of magnetic force. Another consideration tneds in the same direction. I formerly remarked that the magnetic equivalent to static electricity was not known ... ( XR iii/ 420-421) He then sketches what amounts to a completed scheme of nature, in which he takes the magnetic line as. dynamic by analogy to electric currents, and then inserts the electrotonic state as a static state of magnetism, a magnetic tension analogous to the e lectrostatic ten sion which he has asserted precedes all conduction. The conviction expressed in Series I is reiterated in the last pages of the Experimental Researches; speaking of the wire which experiences a current when it is moved in a magnetic field, he demands: Now, how is it possible to conceive that the copper or mercury could have this power in the moving state, if it had no relation at all to the magnetic force in the fixed state? ••• The mere addition of motion could do nothing, unless there were a prior static dependence of the magnet and the m etal upon each other ••• ( XR iii/551) Even the "Tirr\e in a search, he writes comp fox, never -completed experiment on Magnetism" with which the Diary closes is strictly speaking, for the e lectrotonic state; to Maxwell in 1857: I hope this summer to make some experiments on the time of the magnetic action, or rather on the time required for the assumption of the electrotonic state. . . . 13 It would hardly be going too far to say that the Experimental Researches begin, and the Diary ends, with abortive efforts to find the one thing Faraday most wanted to discover, yet for which he was never able to adduce a single definite fact. The momentum of this search carries over, however, into Maxwell's reformulation of Faraday's views, where,as we shall see, the electrotonic state holds the central place. We see here, as others have emphasized, that the "experimental" researches are shaped and moti vated by great speculative forces. Does this mean that science is, for Faraday, ultimately in fact a theoretic al enterprize? I think it is only so to the extent that there is a gap which has not yet been filled, as it should be, by something other than such speculative concepts. His own terms in a quotation above are revealing: there is "a link in the chain of effects, a wheel in the physical mechanism of the action, as yet unrecognized." As the gap is filled, the need for theory will disappear. As science takes its completed form, hypothesis and speculation, which is the only sense of "theory" for Faraday, drop out, and a com pleted "physical mechanism" with no gears missing takes their place. True science, for Faraday, is the machine revealed. It is useful, finally, to note what Faraday does not ask himself. He does not ask questions about functional relationships: he does not ask, for example, the amount of the repelling force on a diamagnetic body, or the dependence of this on the strength of the field in which it is placed. He does not work with ratios and proportions. Not only does he almost never write an equation: he never asks the kind of question which has an equation as the natural form of its answer. Faraday's discomfort with the notion of a functional relation in mathematics is revealed poignantly by a remark he made very late in his career, at a time when he had finally been brought into confrontation with the dreaded inverse-square law of gravity. He rebels at the formulation "with a strength VAR YING INVERSELY .... " The capital letters are his, expressing his outrage at what he considers a blatant violation of the principle of conservation of the force: how can it then "vary"? 14 He understands, indeed, the algebraic relation as describing the effect, but the equation which for Newton and 13 Lewis Campbell and William Garnett, The Life of James Clerk Maxwell(2nd ed.; London: 1844), p. 200. 14 Faraday, " On the Conservation of Force, " Experimental Re searches in Chemistry and PhySks (London: 1859 ), pp. 443 ff., where the remark quoted is found on p. 463. The essay is of special interest to the present study, as Maxwell discusses it at length in a letter to Faraday (Campbell, Life of Maxwell, pp. 202 ff. ) - �-8many generations of - scientists after him had fully characterized the force, s.eems to Faraday utterly unjust to it. "Why, then, talk about the inverse square of the distance?" he says, commenting on the dismissal of his theory by the astronomer-royal, Sir George Airy; "I had to warn my audience against the sound of this law and its supposed opposition on my Friday evening ... 15 Reference was made· above to Faraday's correspondence with Ampere. The following passage from a letter to Ampere, written early in Faraday's career, reveals the extent to which he was aware of the divergence of his concept of science from that of the mathematicians: I am unfortunate in a want of mathematical knowledge and the power of entering with facility into abstract reasoning; I am obliged to feel my way by facts closely placed together ... On reading your papers and letters, I have no difficulty in following the reasoning, but still at last I seem to want something more on which to steady the conclusions. I fancy the habit I got into of attending too closely to experiment has somewhat fettered my power to reasoning and chains me down and I cannot help now and then, comparing myself to a timid navigator who, though he might boldly and safely steer across a bay or an ocean by the aid of a compass which in its action and principles is infallible, is afraid to leave sight of the shore because he understands not the power of the instrument that is to guide him. 16 Could there be a more revealing contrast between Faraday's steady effort to staisfy his mind with a dense series of "facts closely placed together, " and the elegant demonstrations of the mathematical physicist, embodied in the electrodynamics of A.rnpere? The latter had ann0unc ed his program at the beginning of his Theorie Mathematique: Observer d' abord les faits, en varier les circon stances autant qu 'il est possible, accompagner ce premier travail de mesures precises pour en deduire des lois generales, uniquement fondees sur l'experience, et deduire de ces lois, independeamment de toute hypothese sur la nature des forces qui produisent les phenomenes, la valeur mathematique de ces forces, c 'est-.§:_-dire 15 Bence Jones, Life of Faraday, 2, p. 354. 16 de Launay, Correspondance, 3, p. 929. la formule ~ les represente, telle est la marche qu'a suivieNewton ... c'est ellequi m'a servede guide dans toutes mes recherches •••. 17 One should not, I think, be put off by the modesty which Faraday assumes, however sincerely, in this letter. It is clear that he really makes no apology for his physics. It is a science, not of mathematics, but of facts. Itdoes notlackmathematics, forit doesnotneed mathematics. As the letter reveals, Faraday sees mathematics as useful (for others) as a short-cut, in leaping over gaps. His own idea, however, is of a science without such gaps, a science essentially non-quantitative, not needing either mathematical equations or chains of argument, but only intelligent experiment and clarity of view. Faraday certainly reasons incessantly But for him the motions of the mind are constantly checked by reference to fact, so that the result is a dense structure, a closely-spaced series, directed throughout by experiment: Let the imagination go, guiding it by judgment and principle, but holding it in and directing it by experiment.18 Throughout the Experimental Researches, it is true, speculation and imagination run ahead of experiment, but seldom by more than a paragraph; this is not theory-building in the mathematician's sense, but envisioning new, possible things, and they are no sooner envisioned, than they are sought. This is of course a naive view, profoundly naive. Faraday built the world of Experimental Researches according to this naivete, and if we are to view it by any other criteria,orusehis workfor other purposes, we must first to a certain extent destroy it, and then rebuild. It is, perhaps, the literary triumph of Maxwell's Treatise that it effects this translation of Faraday's thought into mathematical physics with such gentleness and understanding, preserving so much of Faraday's concept of nature and of science. 17 Andre-Marie Ampere, Theorie mathematigue des phenomenes electro-dynamigues, uniquement deduite de l 'experience (1827) (reprintedParie: Librarie Scientifique Albert Blanchard, 1958), p. 2 (italics mine). 18 Faraday, Diary, 7, p. 337. The remark in its context inthe Diary pages is not a reflection, but a Dionysian outcry in the midst of the chase. It is surrounded by a cascade of ideas, as much speculative as experimental, about a wished relation of gravity and electricity. �- 9- · - .. Mark Sittler �-10- ATHENS AND KONIGSBERG Could one man, resting in this very heart Of Nature, about whose head the planets Spin in tiny images of some far greater vastness Could, when he sees the Sun descend, or rather, Sees the Earth draw up her blind, a dark Milieu of starry bits and points of light Scattered through those crystal spheres and caught Forever; could one man see far enough, and High enough, to hold that universe within his Hand, or set it down upon a page? Or rather, When stars look down on us, could they be Asking guidance from the man? For who could guess What Gods we have set loose upon the World? and Who could dare to open up a box of rules To hamper Nature as she dances through eternity for us? Stephen Morse FOR FRANCES How many men have tried to walk Your cobbled heart, And in a quiet rain, have slipped And washed away, Amid a thousand tiny rivers Of regret? THOUGHTS OF THE FUTURE I never meant to ask Of History a question, yet All I've learned has been Of what is past, and what The minds that left the Earth Have learned, they said, from Heaven . So now there's nothing left for me Unless it be to leave historic Personages upon their dusty shelves And go, and see, If they will follow me . �-11- STUDY COMPOSITION TEXTURE AND MOOD Steven Dos Remedios �-12- JUSTA MOMENT Foxe Jackson The toe of a new but unpolished loafer smacked the pavement, impatiently splashing slush into er ate rs . Aaron was late. Carolyn leaned against the cold metal post of a street sign and played distractedly with the grey ice water at her feet . We've missedthe 5:15; it ' s dark enough to be half-past and cold enough to be the middle of the night; hurry up, damn you. The wind blew across the city making the gash of each street an open incision . A doorway would break the wind, but I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of having driven me to one . I '11 get cold- - and then see how cold I can be . The tan trench coat inclined stiffly toward the post; leaning was not the natural posture of the figure beneath it. The poplin was damp, the dampness which turns it to grey but has not yet reduced it to transparency . The misty air threatened to do so, and only the glare from the street light above appeared to defend the still, fragile form by casting translucent shadows . Carolyn's feet tired of their game, and clenching no longer warmed her hands . Her fingers gained the freedom of numbness. One hand found a handkerchief, the other a tube of lip-ice . Ha! They'll bleed before I protect them for him! 5:35. I could take the 5 :45 and tell him I didn't wait . Relaxing keeps one's teethfrom chattering . I wonder, though, ifbeing tensed wouldn't preserve more heat? The shadows from the street lamp showed snow drifting from the open hand of an oblivious God . God must be like snow: pure, ubiquitous, and cold. Carolyn's left hand had emerged to drop the shreds of the paper handkerchief onto the ice shredded by water thrown from the street. She wouldn't turn, to watch for either Aaron or the bus . Let them come to me . She didn 't care which came fir s t; she would know how to react to either . He came from behind her . Footsteps on snow are flabby; they sqush and ooze. I'll tell Aaron he sounds flabby. "Did you miss me, Darling?" One hand braced against the pole above her head . Across the other arm rested a long white florist's box . His trench coat fell against hers, the rasp of wet cloth dragging together as rough as his lips on hers. The tube of lip - ice was warm now between her fingers . If you're good, you can get the cap on and off with one hand without messing up the inside of your pocket . �-13 - Jim Villere �-14- GAME BY PAIRS . Anthony Snively I know one motion and that one dimly, Set for body and the voiceless waves: Old ghosts who spume in rooms Where come to be such lithe creations As the pulse in diverse moments gives . And winds are set dancing to gentians slithering Where she spindles younger than the chanting sky In spindrift August footfall In music macabre of the lightning 's flute Whose strains the merlin echoes to the tide . Dancing, chimed motion across a silver web, And fringed gentians gaming in the sunset Glance off the checkered tide And viol its sodden ghosts, suspend in riches Where kings who die have all died dancing . Shadow of the plume of consort sky Bends on the chambered convex of the sight And on the werewolf mate of winds, The bow drawn softly by her hands Rehearsing rondo bloom arising in a step. Become of he r drift and leeward moved The glitte r ed tur ns of talis-flowe rs of the veins As body torches on the gaze Where showmen weave their puppet spell Cajoling stolen kisses from the nightingale; And of the bubble s of her heart, duet Of wind and sea unheard within the wilderness. The soul has but her turn, That when its ears laugh on the stranded wires Vortex blood stre ams thr ough the c r e sset wor d. And this tithe of shades implodes the heart, Mingles in her hands rook of sand And bound on benches snow-patterned waves Which on the choral dust of merlined tombs The totem doge spins in his trarice . I know one motion: and that one dimly Told by turns of echoed rocks enwrapt Where eye is still, the wind veneer Until the pulses flood the sea-spawned mime And see the silence pass the siren's call. �-15- ... $'..!!• SELF PORTRAIT F ebruary 10, 1968 Deborah Massell �-16- SAUL Saul, with sixty years of age hanging from His bones, approached a witch's tent in a Kingdom dying of God . About him his Guard kept close watch. In the tent he cowered The hag, forced her to summon the spirit Of the dead Samuel. Even in the Eyes of God the supernatural could Perform, even the damned must have beliefs. And so out of a cloud of stench the dead Arose and Saul was condemne d, for he did Not know what to do with the forces of Israel, and now he knew what would be Done to him - so that like a pig he fell To groveling in her dirt parlour. And His men heard him and came into the tent To see the hag helping the king to his F eet. And they brought the king to h er table And fed him and the next day he was slaughtered. John Dean �-17- Daniel Sullivan �-18- THE POWERS OF DARKNESS By Anne Lyons A study of the death motif in Thomas Mann's Magic Mountain Joachim says to his cousin who is just arriving upon the Magic Mountain, "You're going to see somethings you've never dreamed of, just wait". Chapter II of Thomas Mann's The Magic Mountain, 1 "Of the Christening Basin, and of Grandfather in his Twofold Guise" introduces aspects of Hans Castorp that permit his particular experience of darkness . The christening basin, over which many small, fuzzy heads have sought absolution, introduces the past, the· persistent and returning past . The small boy loves to hear his great, old grandfather tell of the successive christenings. The bowl, within the scope of the boy, is something that partakes of eternity and when Hans Castorp's own head was over the bowl he too took part in the returning cycles of eternity. The boy who becomes the unassuming hero of this strangebook also has an early encounter with the less abstract aspect of eternity-death. Hans Lorenz Castorp presents a clean, beautiful appearance to his grandson. To the child the grandfather is old, so old as to be from another era and "something in the depths of the child's being responds to it" (p.20). Yet, the old, wonderful man has a red handkerchief showing from his back pocket. What is that? Han's mother died in a laughing fit; his father passes soon after. By the time Hans Lorenz finds his "pure and genuine form" death "was no longer strange I to small Hans ], it was already right familiar" (p.16). Grandfather had finally and formally surmounted his interim aspect and assumed for all time his true and adequate shape. In one aspect death was holy, a pensive, a spiritual state, possessed of a certain mournful beauty (p. 26). This is what Hans has found inthe christening bowl, in the portrait of his grandfather, and in his dead grandfather. But the red handkerchief must reappear . In another it was quite different . It was precisely the opposite, it was very physical, it was material, it could not possibly be called either holy or pensive or beautiful, not even mournful. •. almost improper (p.26). The body was rotting: it didn't smell good. Young Hans knows death in two ways: it permits the true aspect of the once temporal to be revealed. But death, because of flesh, is indecorous, even a bit absurd. Humorous? Can these two ways be understood together? Again, to go back in time with Hans Castorp to find Hippe, a strange boy, whose name m eans scythe in German, the instrument of death. The dream Hans Castorp has of Hippe provides the link for us between 1 Thomas Mann, Knopf, 1946. The Magic Mountain, Alfred A. love, disease and death. After the strange incident of the bench and the bloody nose Hans Castorp returns to the sanatorium from his walk. He is late for Dr . Krokowski's lecture; he finds himself seated behind Clavdia! She's the girl with the arms and the eyes. He listens to Krokowski: . .. Love suppressed manifests itself in disease and disease has a very intimate connection with death (p.128). Now, Hans Castorp is impassioned by the diseased Clavdia who is described as an incarnation of Hippe who himself is death. Thus allowing the conclusion that Hans Castorp loves death and this love is now able to manifest itself in lust because Clavdia' s disease permits her laxity where Hippe was necessarily silent and restrained. Krokowski continues his talk about love. Mann writes: He employed the word love in a somewhat ambiguous sense so that you were never quite sure ... whether he had reference to its sacred or its passionate and fleshy aspect (p.126). This du a 1 it y is the same as that found within the coffin of Hans Lorenz Castorp. Why is love am biguous, dual, two-sided in the same way that death is? The episode in the X-ray room, called a "technological witches' kitchen" by Mann, expands upon Castorp 's relation to death and emphasizes death's relationship to love. While the boys wait in the "artificial twilight" of the office, Clavdia comes in, of course. Castorp contemplates the fact that she too is going to be X-rayed, that the inside of her body was going to be revealed. He turned away his head and put on a primly detached air; a sort of seemly obscurantism presented itself to him as the only correct attitude in the presence of suchathought(p.213). His reaction here is similiar to his reaction when he observes a fly upon the corpse of Hans Lorenz. Old Fiete shooed it cautiously away, taking care not to touch the forehead of the dead, putting on a seemly air of absentrnindednessof obscurantism, as it were-as though he neither might rior would take notice of what he was doing. This correctness of demeanor obviously had to do with the fact that Grandfather was now no longer 3.nything but body (p. 28). Humans have bodies a nd bodies are what you make love with and they are what dies. Hans Castorp feel s the strange indecency of body a lone . The dictionary meaning of obsurantism is "opposition to �-19learning and inquiry" from the Lq.tin word meaning "to darken". What is it that Castorp needs to darken? Something, I suppose, that is quite dark already but in the "technological witches' kitchen" and later, will find illumination. Within the twilighted chamber "where fearful powers were in play" Castorp sees "some things he never dreamed of'' . Behrens showing a skeleton of a female arm says "that's what they put around you when they make love" (p.215). (And I'm sure that he laughed as he said it.) Then, when Castorp approaches the machine to be X - rayed Behrens says "embrace the apparatus as if it were something else ... as though it filled you with rapture" (p.215). Why, in this dark, odd - smelling chamber does the doctor joke about sex? Then before Joachim's "graveyard shape" Hans Castorp becomes upset: Yes, yes! I see, I see, My God I see! He was strongly moved by what he saw-or more precisely by the fact that he saw itand felt stirrings of uneasy doubt, as to whether it was really permissible and innocent to stand here in the quaking, crackling darkness and gaze like this (p.216). However, when he sees his own hand in the magic X-ray machine he becomes totally unnerved and, as wily Odysseus did, and as everyone must, he saw what up to now he had been obscuring-his own death. Hans Castorp saw precisely what he must have expected, but what it is hardly per mitted man to see, and what he had never thought it would be vouchsafed him to see: he looked into his own gr ave ••. for the first time in his life he tmderstood that he would die (p.219). The "overfilled lady" and her laughter and her hopelessness; Frau Mallinckrodt in number 50 who is horribly disfigured but whose "inborn femininity tri umphed even over the eczema that covered her face" (p.313). The gauze dressings which she wore about her head became a personal adornment. But did her femininity triumph? Neither the overfilled lady's laughter nor Frau Mallinckrodts 's charm can triumph over the darkest thing of all. With poor Karen Kar stedt their parade reaches a sad-not really sad but absurd-end. Adopting her as a companion, the cousins take her to watch the bobsled races. Viewing the track, Hans Castorp remarks, "This is where they run the bodies down" (recalling for the reader Castorp 's own hysterical laughter when he was first told about this). They take her to the movies: It was a thrilling drama of love and death- constructed to cater to the innermost desires of onlooking international civilization(p . 317). So wherever they seek to amuse themselves they find always a reminder of death to which they all stand in varying proximities. When the film is over, and the lights go on, the audience is dazed; they had been taken away for the moment from their own present to another: They ••• stared vacantly before them, blinking in the brilliant light and wishing themselves back in the darkness, but in silence the theatre was emptied and a new audience took the place of that going out, and before their eager eyes the cycle would presently unroll itself again (p. 3 77). Hans Castorp has previously remarked" .•. eternity turns out to be not straight ahead but merry-goround" (p.371). Mann says about these episodes: So now that Castorp has been somewhat freed of his obscurantism or desire to darken he proceeds to the other extreme. He brings death from darkness into an absurd light. At the sanitarium death is treated with "expert reverence". He resolves to visit all the people who are bedridden and in the extreme of disease. These moribund are presented by Mann in a formal, patterned parade. The two boys watching this parade react in different ways to the entertainment. Joachim says "there must be discipline" (p.234); an order must be adopted or imposed in the face of death or comple te fear and absurdity would reign. Joachim dies too soon to realize what is possibly shown at the very end of the book-that disorder will rule anyhow. Castorp treats death in a way as he did as a child. His attitude is simifar but he never would have been so ridiculously obvious about something it "is hardly permitted man to see". He says, "I think the world and life generally is such as to make it appropriate for us all to wear black and for all our intercourse with each other to be subdued and ceremonial and mindful of death" (p.295). Actually, we do act mindfully of death, however, not in the way Hans Castorp describes, nor in Clavdia's way, but in a way that Hans Castorp learns in a dream of youth. But the strange parade of the moribund proceeds. So much was true after all, that poor Karen did afford Hans Castorp a substitute ( for Clavdia ) •.• as did the rest of his charitable activities (p.319). So Castorp dances with death when it is not possible to actualize his passion for Clavdia. But, as was said before, Clavdia is Hippe and Hippe is death, so isn't Hans satisfying his lust, just in a strange way? The inward satisfaction he experienced whenever he fed the afflicted Frau Mallinckrodt her broth or saw poor Karen clapping her ravaged and mortifying hands •.. was of a vicarious and relative kind; yet it was none the l ess pure and immediate ..• (p.319). The last excursion made by the three, silly Hans Castorp, poor Karen and Joachim, is a walk in the graveyard. Mann says "we tell it to complete the tale of their excursions" (p; 320). It was, of course, Hans Castorp's idea to go there. It is really hor rible; it is like Castorp pushing poor Karen to her death. This terrible and grotesque chapter ends with a ll the moribund that Castorp has visited dying, leaving him free to move to a less vicarious satisfaction of his passion. �-20 The carnival night chapter is introduced with a discussion of the cycles of time . Time returning again upon itself becomes the eternal. When Settem brini is asked by the boys for a description of the c arnival celebrations he answers in his usual mockery : The p rogr am includes various danse macabres ••• but unfortunately some of last year's guests will not be here (p . 322) . His phrase 'danse macabre ' throws immediately back to the chapter just disc ussed, "The Dance of Death" . But why, on a night of celebration, does Settembrini evoke darkness? Hans of the dream world gives an answer later in the program . But who is Settembrini? He who refuse s Hans the use of ' thou ', he who watches the patients and the doctors too enter a frenzied and distorted dream but remains intact himself . Settembrini is the man who breaks in on Castorp ' s dark musings with electricity' s clear light . Hans, in paying Settembrini a tribute and in saying goodbye to him as a mentor describes him : You are not just any man, with a name like another; You are a representative, an ambassador to this place and to me (p . 329) . One immediately wonders from where is he an am bassador? Here is another description, also by our Hans, of Settembrini : Here was blue - mantled death masquerading as a humanistic orator and when one sought to gaze at close range upon the pedagogic and literary god ••. one discovered a squatting ape - faced figure with the sign of night and magic on its brow . Herr Settembrini introduces and is the only character to use the phrase "the powers of darkness" yet within the novel he is characterized as the bringer of rea son's light - Lucifer . But Hans really does not free himself from Settembrini 's hold, not until he enters a bit further into d arkness . Through the g ame of drawing a pig with ones eyes shut is contrived a situation for Hans to speak to Clavdia . He needs a better pencil to make a better attempt at the trick . He borrows one from her and so enters upon a dream that brings him se cond closest to eternity. Through the silent speech of the unfamiliar French language spoken in this dark dream Castorp learns that his dear cousin is really very sick, yet Hans survives this news with enough strength to return Calvdia ' s tiny red pencil. On this night, the commenc ement of Lent when flesh is sup posedly forsaken, but when Castorp enters deepest into that world, does he do it with his own words in mind? Oh, love, you know - The body, love, death, these three make one . Because the body is disease and pleasure and it is both of these that bring death, yes, both love and death are carnal and that is their terror and their huge magic (p . 342) . Later Hans contemplates Clavdia 's X-ray portrait and begins to relive Walpurgis - Night . A skeleton kindles lust in him -just as Behrens said . · But Settembrini speaks of the connection between death and flesh and speaks of an understanding of deat h in a way that Hans , in the process of his strange educati on, must finally decide to discard . Let mind once dualistically isolate death and deat h will become in actual fact, ' actu ', by this mental act of will, you understand me, a power in itself, the power opposed to life , the inimical principle, the g reat temptation; wh ose kingdom i s the kingdom of the flesh . You ask me why of the flesh? I answer you: bec aus e it is deliverance -yet not deliverance from evil but by evil (p . 412) . Death separated from life , as when Hans s aw hi s grandfather rotting or when the mind "erect s it into an independent principle, becomes grotesque ", a spectre surrounded by such myst eri ous terrors that the gaze of reason can not even be foc used on it. Settembrini however thinks that deat h, "that most dis solute of powers", can be successfully contained by the powers of reason . "Either the experience of death must be the last experience of life" - this is Settem brini ' s rather simple andclean answertotheproblem "or it must be a bugaboo" and this is Naphta ' s most dark and irrational conception . It is both of these and more . Death might be included in life as an experience itself though Behrens says it is not . Death is a buga boo, but not so simply, though it remains above co herency it does not remain above some strange but actually practical understanding . It remains for Hans Castorp who since a child had pictured death to himself as wearing a starched ruff, or at least a sort of half uniform with a stand-up collar while life on the other hand wore an ordinary collar to comprehend life, disease and death ; it remains for Hans Castorp with his desire for life experience, his receptivity to disease and his respect for death, to reconcile Settembrini 's clarity with Naphta ' s total darkness . How does the faceless Hans do this? He must go somewhere and the merry -go - round that young Hans rides will take him somewhere pretty far away . High on this marvellous mount ain, Mann creates his own bizarre circus : The snowfall was monstrous and immeasurable, it made one realize the extravagant, outlandish nature of the place (p . 471). Hans lies on his balcony, probably studying, but plans come into his head as l;le watches the snow, plans that precipitate his real learning . The scene blurred more and more, it inclined the eye, gazing thus into woolly vacuity, to slumber . At the moment of slipping off one might give a start-yet what sleep could be purer than this in the icy air? It waff dreamless . It was free from the burden even the unconscious burden - of organic life, as littie aware of an effort to breathe this �- 21 countentless, weightless, impreceptible air as the breathless slee.p of the dead (p . 472) . Hans Castorp's pending dream does notturn out to be as effortless as this sleep, but he does somehow enter the same realm -a silent and dead realm and the lesson he l earns in the end is actually simple. So Hans conceives the plan of learning to ski and going out on his own. His friend, Settembrini, encourages the plan but says that he himself cannot accompany Castorp for he is a "broken man". Obviouslythisjourneyinto what becomes a "blinding chaos, a white dark, a monstrous dereliction ..• a mad dance" requires the strength and flexibility of Castorp 's peculiar youthfulness, In the snow Castorp is totally awed by the vastness, the si lence, the whiteness, the primevalness of the mountains . He felt himself presumptuous to be there . What he at this moment knew was the fas cination of venturing just so far into the monstrous unknown (p.477) . Where is our simple Hans going? Talking about the snowflakes which threaten to bury him, Hans says : each in itself- this was the uncanny, the anti-organic, the life-denying character of them all -each of them was absolutely symmetrical, icely regular in form . They were too regular, as substance adapted to life never was to this degreethe living principle shuddered at this perfect precision, found it deathly, the very marrow of death ... (p . 480) . Here is death, contained within the vast, white land of snow, but "the fear of death [has been] cast out [ of Hans] by the irresistible oneness" (p . 477) . The color of the ice is "the color of certain eyes , whose shape and glance had spelled his destiny" (p.479). " . •• how alluring and accessible seemed their softly covered gorges and defiles" (p . 481) . Hans Castorp is going up into the snowy mountains to finaily learn about death -but death' s dark place in life, and he is being seduced . Through love, he learns about death; "his blood leaps" for when a young man has lived years long in the way this one had, something may gather may accumulate-in the depths of his soul, until one day it suddenly discharges itself with a primitive exclamation of disqust, a mental 'oh go to the devil ', a repudiation of all caution whatsoever, in short, with a challenge (p . 481) . So, with this lust for knowledge bringing experience, Hans Castorp cannot fail to come to a real and large understanding. And, since he does not need to hold on to anything as Settembrini and Naphta do, he will be able to s ee it as it r eally is . "The storm burst, the storm that had threatened so long" (p . 482), the storm causedbythedissatisfaction inherent in the incomplete philosophies of such as Settembrini and Naphta . This is a private storm for any human being who really confronts life . It is also a larger struggle for an institu tion, a nation or a culture which has built and grown beyond its own understanding or beyond its own ability to comprehend and accommodate itself. The storm increases; visibility decreases . Hans Castorp is slowly cut off from the world below . Now even the sanatorium is part ofthe worldbelow . As his extremities freeze and his features numb , Castorp moves closer to a strange freedom . He is alone and talking to himself: You went in a circle, gave yourself endless trouble under the delusion that you were accomplishing something and all the time you were simply describing some great silly arc that would turn back to where it had its begin ing (p.487) . But there is something perfectly whole and eternal in the end point of the circle. After having arrived at the landmark of his circle, after having arrived in the realm of the eternal, Hans Castorp has his dream . The whiteness of the storm increases, but the sun is setting, letting darkness come. Hans Castorp becomes confused; he slowly slips away from clarity into his dream . "It was a park", His dream is light, " • .• the glory of light", yet a place that contains only light is the darkest possible place . The people of Castorp's dream are lovely youths but Hans feels that "it is not alone the outward form , they seem to be wise and gentle through and through" (p . 492) . What is their wisdom that creates their beautiful countenances? These children of the sun are children oflight. Would Plato say they then are children of knowledge? But their knowledge is of darkness . A youth indicates the source of darkness to Hans, the intruder . As Hans watches the youth 's face "in his gaze there came a solemnity that looked as though carven out of stone, inexpressive, unfathomable, adeathlike reserve which gave the scarcely reassured Hans Castorp a thorough fright, not unaccompanied by a vague apprehension of its meaning . Two grey old women, witchlike, with hanging breasts and dugs of finger-length, were busy there , between flaming braziers , most horribly . They were dismembering a child . In dreadful silence they tore it apart with their bare hands-Hans Castorp saw the bright hair bloodsmeared - and cracked the tender bones between their jaws, their dreadful lips dripped blood (p . 494) . This is the center, the source of all darkness if it remains undisc over ed, but the center of light if it is found. Facing, admitting, knowing death and dark things one can live one 's life in light . But to remain ignorant means to be continually dis satisfied. Our hero comes full circle and "knowingthebody, knows death" (p.495) . Hans Castorp realizes the places of love and disease and death in life . "All interest in disease and death is only another expression of interest in life" (p . 495) . "Ihavedreamed ofman ' s state" (p . 496) says Hans. "I will keep faith with death in my heart for the sake of goodness and love . Man shall let death h ave no sovereignty over his thoughts". Castorp awakens! and his dream quickly fades . He has died into himself and found there the temple of his body. He found there the container of death . As the surroundings of the temple are light and lovely, so is living varied and wonderful. But just as the youths live with their blood sacrifice within, so each person contains death within his body. "You're going to see some things you never dreamed of", says Joachim to Hans as he first arrives. �-22- White to play and win David Roberts �• � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Collegian Description An account of the resource The Collegian began as a student newspaper; became a college community literary publication in 1952 and continued until 1969; became a student newspaper again in 1969; discontinued publication from 1980 until 1989 when it again became a student literary publication. Click on <a title="The Collegian" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=26">Items in The Collegian Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 25 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Anthony, George (Editor) Anthony, Meredith (Editor) Title A name given to the resource Palaestra, Spring 1968 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1968-04 Description An account of the resource Issue of The Palaestra. Published in Spring 1968. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Collegian Spring 1968 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 The Collegian https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/669b94709aa7ea3389d5c1a16404fd20.mp3 9b0b1163587ba0184495fd2e5a819221 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource St. John's College Lecture Recordings—Santa Fe Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Meem Library Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Santa Fe, NM Sound A resource primarily intended to be heard. Examples include a music playback file format, an audio compact disc, and recorded speech or sounds. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data m4a Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 01:40:30 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource On the Biblical, Geometrical, Political Mind: A Panel in Honor of Bob Sacks Description An account of the resource Audio recording of a tutor panel given by tutors Seth Appelbaum, Phil LeCuyer, April Olsen and Ken Wolfe on March 10, 2023 as part of the Dean's Lecture & Concert Series. The Dean's Office has provided this description of the event: "Robert Sacks, a long-time tutor and one of the College’s most original and esteemed thinkers, was mentored by and became a colleague of Jacob Klein and Leo Strauss—two of the intellectual giants who helped establish the College’s stature and the Program of study we all share. Please join us for a panel discussion to mark both Mr. Sacks’s recent ninety-first birthday and the publication of his book Three Wells: Essays and Lectures on the Biblical, Political, Geometrical Mind. Panelists Seth Applebaum, April Olsen, Phil LeCuyer and Ken Wolfe will discuss essays from this book, as well as other topics in Mr. Sacks’ thinking over many years." Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Appelbaum, Seth LeCuyer, Phillip Olsen, April D. Wolfe, Kenneth Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Santa Fe, NM Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2023-05-10 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Meem Library has been given permission to make this item available online. Type The nature or genre of the resource sound Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource mp3 Subject The topic of the resource Sacks, Robert D. Three Wells: Essays and Lectures on the Biblical, Political, Geometrical Mind. Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SF_AppelbaumS_et_al_Tutor_Panel_in_Honor_of_Bob_Sacks_2023-05-10 https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/6f5838a4143c141032ad43f9dae5d28e.mp3 921dc75f0c76015ab13faf37cde2a9c5 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource St. John's College Lecture Recordings—Santa Fe Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Meem Library Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Santa Fe, NM Sound A resource primarily intended to be heard. Examples include a music playback file format, an audio compact disc, and recorded speech or sounds. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data wav Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 01:01:41 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Arithmetic as a liberal art Description An account of the resource Audio recording of a tutor panel discussion with Seth Appelbaum, Janet Dougherty, Jacques Duvoisin, Topi Heikkerö, and Nicholas Starr held on March 30, 2018 as part of the Dean's Lecture and Concert Series. Moderated by Raoni Padui. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Appelbaum, Seth Dougherty, Janet Duvoisin, Jacques Antoine Heikkerö, Topi, 1970- Starr, Nicholas C. Padui, Raoni Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Santa Fe, NM Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018-03-30 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Meem Library has been given permission to make this item available online. Type The nature or genre of the resource sound Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource mp3 Subject The topic of the resource Arithmetic Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context 20014432 Friday night lecture https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/2c01c7d7759d75cbda9cfb0dd60f1413.mp3 6a44741b82b065d42187bd5c227c375e Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource St. John's College Lecture Recordings—Santa Fe Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Meem Library Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Santa Fe, NM Sound A resource primarily intended to be heard. Examples include a music playback file format, an audio compact disc, and recorded speech or sounds. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data wav Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 01:31:24 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 idea of the common good Description An account of the resource Audio recording of a conversation with Seth Appelbaum and David McDonald on July 7, 2020, hosted by Edward Walpin as part of the Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series. The Graduate Institute provided this description of the event: "The idea of a 'common good' had largely faded as a theme of our public discourse until the Age of COVID-19. The notion of a shared good seems fairly uncontroversial when it shows up as a presupposition of public health policy. Beyond the realm of public health, and even in our fragmented and adversarial era, most activists and factions will sooner or later claim that they are working in service of the common good and not simply against their opponents. Does this resurgence of the 'common good' in our rhetoric herald an emerging consensus about the goal of politics, or is it a narrow, technical claim made in reaction to a specific emergency situation? How has the common good been understood throughout its long lineage, and what is at stake in the idea now? Join St. John’s tutors Seth Appelbaum and David McDonald for a live conversation on the question of what it might mean to have an ethical aim beyond that of the individual." Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Appelbaum, Seth McDonald, David Walpin, Edward Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Santa Fe, NM Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2020-07-07 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Meem Library has been given permission to make this item available online. Type The nature or genre of the resource sound Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource mp3 Subject The topic of the resource Common good Locke, John, 1632-1704 Relation A related resource A video of this conversation is available on the St. John's College YouTube channel: <a href="https://youtu.be/hWyWx6DS3CM">https://youtu.be/hWyWx6DS3CM</a> Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SF_AppelbaumS_McDonaldD_The_Idea_of_the_Common_Good_2020-07-07 Graduate Institute Summer lecture series https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/92e264d3fff03026d492ca413b8efa22.mp4 0796ba533b1f4b628b3db67aaedbdf1c Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Description An account of the resource Items in this collection are part of a series of lectures given every year at St. John's College. During the Fall and Spring semesters, lectures are given on Friday nights. Items include audio and video recordings and typescripts. For more information, and a schedule of upcoming lectures, please visit the <a href="http://www.sjc.edu/programs-and-events/annapolis/formal-lecture-series/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">St. John's College website</a>. Click on <a title="Formal Lecture Series" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=5&sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&sort_dir=d">Items in the St. John's College Formal Lecture Series—Annapolis Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. A growing number of lecture recordings are also available on the St. John's College (Annapolis) Lectures podcast. Visit <a href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/st-johns-college-annapolis-lectures/id1695157772">Apple Podcasts</a> or <a href="https://open.spotify.com/show/6GDsIRqC8SWZ28AY72BsYM?si=f2ecfa9e247a456f" title="Spotify">Spotify</a> to listen and subscribe. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Title A name given to the resource St. John's College Formal Lecture Series—Annapolis Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context formallectureseriesannapolis Moving Image A series of visual representations imparting an impression of motion when shown in succession. Examples include animations, movies, television programs, videos, zoetropes, or visual output from a simulation. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Zoom video conference Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 00:50:36 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 Poverty in America Description An account of the resource Video recording of a lecture delivered by Chris Arnade, Ph.D. on October 30, 2020, as part of the Formal Lecture Series. Dr. Arnade describes his lecture: "What costs do current political and economic forces impose on the worst off among us? We often hear of a divide between 'elites' and 'ordinary people,' but in what does this divide consist? Who are the leaders, and what guides their thinking? Who is left behind, and how do they describe their circumstances? Do ambition and achievement also leave behind certain forms of meaning and dignity? How are the current states of inequality created and preserved, and how are they harmful? How can and should voices from 'the back row' affect us?" Dr. Arnade left his career on Wall Street in 2008 and spent several years traveling in order to interview, photograph, and listen to poor communities around the US. He now works as a writer and photographer covering addiction and poverty in America. He is also the author of Dignity: Seeking Respect in Back Row America. The lecture is introduced by Joe Macfarland. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Arnade, Chris 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 2020-10-30 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource A signed permission form has been received stating, "I hereby grant St. John's College permission to: Make an audiovisual recording of my lecture, and retain copies for circulation and archival preservation in the St. John's College Greenfield Library. Make an audiovisual recording of my lecture available online. Make a typescript copy of my lecture available for circulation and archival preservation in the St. John's College Greenfield Library. Make a copy of my typescript available online." Type The nature or genre of the resource moving image Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource mp4 Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Arnade_2020-10-30 Subject The topic of the resource Poverty--United States Drug abuse Documentary photography Homelessness--United States Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Macfarland, Joseph C. Friday night lecture