The drive to find reason and order is the basis for nearly all human endeavors, and such an impetus is well represented in literature. Yet, as the protagonists of Crime and Punishment and the Inferno develop in their respective narratives, they soon come to the realization that the logic that they once applied to the world may not be valid. These intellectual metamorphoses can be summed up in a quotation from La Celestina. Both Raskolnikov and Dante view their world as rational and just. This rational ideology provides the former a sense of certainty and constancy, yet the latter initially cannot reason through the chaos of his situation. However, as they progress through their stories, each character quickly recognizes the error of such beliefs and becomes pressed by forces both internal and external to modify their ideologies. For Raskolnikov, such a reformation is gradual, complete, and ultimately unsatisfying; his reformed ideology is in accord with the quotation, as from his logical mind springs disorder. Conversely, the transformation of Dante’s character is more abrupt yet more subtle, and the change itself is the reverse of that of the character paraphrased from La Celestina: rejecting the chaos of reason he finds order in the truth of the divine.
For Raskolnikov, the world is governed by certain cardinal laws that could be learned and subsequently utilized by man for his own purposes. His interpretation of these laws was obviously influenced by his isolation for the majority of his adult life--they do not translate well to the practical world. Raskolnikov developed a highly theoretical system of beliefs that he was to realize by murdering the moneylender and her sister. He hypothesized that certain men could be worthy of transcending established law and creating a new world order:
...I know...that he who is strong in mind and spirit will be [the commoners’]
master. He who dares much is right....He who dismisses with contempt what
men regard as sacred becomes their law-giver, and he who dares more than
anyone is more right than anyone....that power is given only to him who dares
to stoop and take it. (Dostoyevsky, 431)
Raskolnikov frequently uses the model of Napoléon as justification for his actions; he does in fact view himself as a modern Bonaparte throughout the early stages of the novel. Therefore, he does not believe that by killing the old woman he is committing a crime, but instead freeing himself from any hindrances to his future greatness. Yet, while such a philosophy is perfectly valid when analyzed cognitively, its application to the physical world is greatly flawed. The most damaging of all the “wilde Beasts” (La Celestina) that accost Raskolnikov is his own conscience. He had failed to include the human element in his equation, and he often acknowledges this error in the final parts of the text; the con of his reason was his exclusion of his emotions. While he rationally scrutinized every detail concerning his upcoming action--from the method of concealing his hatchet to what hat he should wear--he falsely judged his emotional control:
If only [he could] succeed in keeping [his] will and [his] reasoning faculties
unimpaired, then all the difficulties will be overcome....there was consequently
no danger of his reason or will-power being in any way affected during the
carrying out of his plan, simply because what he intended to do was ‘not a
crime’. (Dostoyevsky, 90-1)
Raskolnikov ultimately does not control his emotions during the murder and loses himself in the moment. He mechanically kills the sister of the moneylender and leaves behind the trail of physical evidence that he had planned to conceal. The death of the moneylender herself does not seem to weigh greatly upon his conscience, but the ‘accidental’ murder of her sister is of great agitation to him. Frequently assaulted by his guilt, Raskolnikov feels oppressed every time a possible path to freedom presents itself: after another man confesses to his crime, he “[felt] as though an enormous weight had pinned him to the ground, as though he had been drugged. Ever since that scene with Nikolay in Porfiry’s office he had begun to feel cramped and stifled” (Dostoyevsky, 458). There is definitely “no certainty in [the] calmes [of the world]” (La Celestina), the “calmes” in this instance being Raskolnikov’s apparent freedom. His anxiety in such moments ultimately leads to an understanding of the importance of uncertainty and disorder in the world. By the end of the text he has recognized the flaws in his ideology and consequently confesses his guilt. Conversing with Sonia, he blames his crime not on a Nietzsche-esque ‘superman’ ideal, but on the devil: “...I had no right to possess the power....I was not a Napoléon....the devil had dragged me there, and that it was only afterwards that he explained to me...that I was the same kind of louse as the rest” (Dostoyevsky, 432-3). Apparently he has completely rejected his formal ‘great-man’ ideology in favour of Christian supplication. Such a metamorphosis is somewhat unsatisfying, as Dostoyevsky’s skilful manipulation imparts in the reader a desire to witness Raskolnikov succeed in transcending from the plight of the average person. His character becomes uninspired and uninteresting, and one does not get the sense that he will ever become a ‘superman’ in the future. Perhaps the reader is left to ponder their own “Dance full of changes” (La Celestina), and modify their own rationale. Yet it cannot be ignored that when Raskolnikov finally finds peace after experiencing the chaos of his idealism, there cannot be a continuation of his story.
While the minutiae of Dante’s elementary ideology are not described explicitly, the details concerning his philosophical transformation are apparent. He is introduced in the text as having gone “astray/ from the straight road and [waking up] to find [himself]/ alone in a dark wood” (Dante, p. 1286, 1-3). Feeling inspired when he sees the light of the sun, which he interprets as a sign of hope, he attempts to escape from this wood by climbing over the first hill that he sees; such to him is the most logical solution to his entrapment. This easy resolution is not attainable, however, as Dante’s progress is arrested by three beasts representing the vices of worldliness. Driven back to the darkness of ignorance, the figure of Virgil appears to guide him down through the slope of Hell. Initially reacting to his isolation by relying on his rationality to guide him from the wood demonstrates one of the principal elements of Dante’s ideology: his faith in human logic. Taken in its obviously Christian context, such was contrary to divine truth and constitutes the primary deficiency of all humanity and can be traced to the fall of Adam and Eve. The wood itself could represent this error inherent in mortal life. Dante’s descent through the underworld is an attempt for his reason to bring him closer to that divine truth. Yet, while his initial confidence in logic hindered his progress, such logic was unguided and unbounded. By introducing Virgil as a guide, Dante’s reason becomes refined to see only what must be seen in order to acknowledge sin. Through logic Dante is to transcend logical thought and achieve divine grace. This paradox remains incomprehensible to him until he encounters the various sinners in hell. Through a gradual and labyrinthine process of acquaintance and cognizance of their sins, Dante realizes that all the sinners have been condemned for subjecting themselves to the same vices that originally led him “from the True Way” (1286, 12). They are then subject to the unearthly logic of hell and punished according to their crimes. Therefore, in accordance with this logic, for his faith in logic Dante is ‘punished’ by being led through hell by the personification of reason. In this instance the punishment allows the criminal the freedom to sublimate himself and change his philosophy to conform to the will of the condemner; Dante is the only ‘sinner’ in the text allowed this freedom. The souls are withheld from the divine light of truth because of their inability to see beyond reason, and they are therefore damned to an eternity without hope. Indeed, the poet seems to suggest that there is not even a place for hope in the world, which the pilgrim had originally relied on, as it must literally be abandoned before journeying towards spiritual enlightenment. Dante has in fact abandoned any thoughts of hope for the journey through hell: he shows no desire or excitement toward the prospect of exiting from the underworld. Alternately, he demonstrates a resignation to the journey itself; he has learned that there is no reason for either despair or hope as his ordeal is governed entirely by divine reason. Thus Dante becomes more sure of his path and more certain of his future. He no longer wanders lost in the “valley of evil/ whose maze had sapped [his] very heart with fear” (1287, 13-14) as he had before his journey, but “without thought of rest/...climb[s] the dark” (1423, 139-40) certain that he is on the path to enlightenment. Dante’s philosophical transformation, therefore, is opposite to that suggested by the quotation from La Celestina. While he once looked at the world rationally and found only chaos, he rejected human logic in favour of divine reason and found the world to indeed be “governed by order and ruled by reason” (La Celestina).
The common belief shared by both Raskolnikov and Dante at the end of their respective texts is a faith in divine order. Initially, each of them subscribed to human logic and reason yet ultimately found such an outlook erroneous. While Dante became liberated and enlightened by such a realization and ultimately found salvation, it seems as though Raskolnikov lost his soul during his metamorphosis. Certainly his appeal is diminished in the eyes of the reader. Originally observing the world in a rational manner, he was driven into a state of chaos. Yet upon rejecting his logic and accepting divine will, he became insipid and lifeless. Conversely, Dante became rejuvenated by his subjugation to the machinations of the divine, and consequently remains an interesting character. Such shifts in the ideologies and consequent salvation or damnation of these two disparate characters are both Pro or Con.
Bibliography
Alighieri, Dante. Inferno. Trans. John Ciardi. The Norton Anthology of World Masterpieces.
Gen. Ed. Maynard Mack. 6th ed. Vol. 1. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1992.
1286-1423.
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor. Crime and Punishment. Trans. David Magarshack. London: Penguin
Books, 1951.
Saturday, October 04, 1997
Tuesday, August 05, 1997
Politics in Republican Rome
Roman Politics
The composition and operation of the Roman Republic has had a great influence on many subsequent governments in the western world. One can observe many parallels, as the republic straddles political ideology in both antiquity and modern times. Yet it must be noted that the
republic as it existed in Rome was fundamentally determined by its place in history, and modern values must therefore not be equated with those in antiquity. While the vote of the people was part of the system, Rome was largely oligarchical. Herein will be examined the arrangement of the governmental system and the practice of getting elected as it existed largely in the mid- to late- republic. Additionally, the methods by which power was controlled, especially by the aristocracy will be noted.
Fundamentally, the republic was structured on ancient tribal groupings that had existed for centuries before its foundation. These tribes, which were based on familial ties and ancient land holdings, gathered together to form the tribal assembly, or comitia tributa. The fate of legislation presented to this assembly was determined by a majority vote of the tribes, which in turn was determined by a majority vote of the individual members of each tribe. A second assembly was also used for voting purposes, although this one, the comitia centuriata, was organized by age and wealth in addition to tribal divisions. From this assembly can be felt the power of the nobility as voting was taken by century, those of the poor being greatly outnumbered by those of the aristocratic class. One of the main purposes of these assemblies was to elect the various magistracies that existed at Rome to govern both the city and the provinces. The lesser magistracies–the quaestors, aediles, and tribunes–were determined by the comitia tributa, while the most important positions–the praetors, consuls, and censors–were elected by the vote of the centuries. The third important assembly in Rome was the Senate, which was constituted of ex-magistrates. By the late republic its authorization was required to pass legislation and any decrees it issued were to be strictly adhered to. Ironically, the power of the senate was increased by the attempts of two plebian tribunes to bypass its power. In order to pass land redistribution and other laws to aid the lower and middle classes, the brothers Gracchi demonstrated the power of the tribunate to appeal to the people. In response to this the senate issued the senatus consultum ultimatum, which declared martial law and resulted in the deaths of the Gracchi. In subsequent decrees of the S.C.U., the senate ratified the bill to persecute its enemies, declaring them ‘enemies of the state.’ Subsequently, the power of the tribunes were greatly diminished, and the senate became further empowered. Therefore, it can be easily observed that structurally, power in Rome was under tight control of the nobles.
Nobility was of great importance in obtaining political office in Rome. There was never a salary paid to the various magistracies of Rome, therefore the political system revolved around an individual’s ambitions for power, honor, and fame. There were many methods to gain all three during an individual’s political career. In order to advance through the cursus honorum, which was the established legal sequence of holding the various magistracies from quaestor to censor, an aspiring politician had to establish a good public image. Such could be most immediately accomplished through military victory and its consequent triumph; additionally, a triumphator could immortalize their victory by erecting statues and monuments to themselves. Furthermore, military crises could result in the continual support of a prominent military officer to retain imperium longer than was legally allowable. Similarly, the senate may have been anxious that the glory that some politicians would gain in triumph would undermine their power, and thus they may have attempted to influence consular elections: in the war against Hannibal, the senate did not want M. Terentius Varro, a consul who was critical of their abilities, to validate his claims by defeating Hannibal and therefore another consul was given the command. What the senate feared most was that a triumphant consul who was critical of them would be elevated to the censorship, as did C. Flaminius.
A second method of advancement, and one which was far more accessible than military command, was public oratory, either before the assemblies or in one of the various courts of Rome. An aspiring politician who was a competent speaker could easily sway the assembly to their ideologies. One of the more common tools used by politicians was to stress the important, or even divine, status of their ancestors: Gaius Gracchus emphasized the supernatural events of his family history by relating a ‘prophetic’ dream that he had pertaining to his then-deceased brother Tiberius. Additionally, prestige and political respect derived from the public’s belief that a politician conducted himself in an appropriate manner in both the public and private spheres and that he was not influenced by ‘enemies of the state’ or by gaining profit at public expense. Consequently, many attacks were made against opponents using these suspicions as a basis to promote a rising politician’s own cause. Respect and prestige could also be gained be the display of oratorical skills in the popular courts. A successful prosecution or defense would greatly increase a budding politician’s popularity, as demonstrated by Cicero’s winning prosecution of Verres. Alternately, a politician might use the courts to conspire against his opponents and improve his popularity. A common tactic was to accuse an opponent of bribery to lessen his support. Other charges, such as extortion, were used against political opponents in an effort not only to discredit them, but also to advance the interests of a politician and his supporters. It seems likely that the trial of Rutilius Rufus was conducted to ensure the economic interests of the equites in Asia and their support of G. Marius against certain senators. Such accusations were common enough to warrant a politician’s attention. Therefore they needed to secure a good sized group of friends, or amici, to protect him from public charges: these friends would act as witnesses, jurors, magistrates, and advocates in court; they would also be important in election times.
Ironically, many of these supporters were gained through bribery, either implicitly or explicitly displayed. While monetary ‘donations’ to potential supporters were common enough, more often a politician would be more discrete, gaining sponsors by presenting lavish diners, purchasing expensive clothes for them, and treating them to free seats at spectacles. While many laws were enacted to curtail the extent of bribery in politics, such laws were easily bypassed. Instead of a politician presenting dinners himself, he could employ his friends to do so for him; additionally, a politician could use the divisores, tribal officials, to distribute bribes among a tribe of which he was not an official patron. If support was not to be found through an open wallet, it could also be gained with a closed fist. Physical harassment of voters was common enough to force reforms in the assembly: secret ballots provided anonymity and the narrowing of the galleries that led to the tribunal decreased violence before elections. It is notable that the use of bribery and violence as means to persuade the voters and eliminate political rivals was largely executed by the senators and other members of the wealthy aristocracy; it was they alone who could afford bribes and gangs of toughs to support their desires through physical coercion. The issuing of the senatus consultum ultimum to execute G. Gracchus and many of his followers is a good example of this. Similarly, the nobility could control the vote of the assemblies by securing the rural vote, either through bribery or violence. Therefore it can be easily seen that many successful politicians in the mid- to late-republic were wealthy aristocrats.
The republic in Rome cannot be called a democracy as it was largely oligarchical in nature. From it’s structure to the methods of getting and keeping power, the republic emphasized the power of the wealthy. Indeed, there are many instances of the nobles’ keeping control over the republic against lower class politicians, or supporters of lower class values, from usurping too much power over the state; the massacres of the Gracchi and their followers are prime examples of this. Therefore, because of this, the democratic nature of the republic should not be over stressed.
Bibliography
Alexander, M. “How Many Roman Senators Were Ever Prosecuted?” Phoenix 47 (1993), 238-255.
Kallett-Marx, R. “The Trial of Rutilius Rufus,” Phoenix 44 (1990), 122-139.
Lintott, A. “Electoral Bribery in the Roman Republic,” JRS 80 (1990), 1-16.
Marsh, Frank Burr. A History of the Roman World from 146 to 30 B.C. London: 1963.
McDonald, A.H. Republican Rome. London: 1966.
Millar, F. “Politics, Persuasion, and the People Before the Social War (150-90 B.C.),” JRS 76
(1986), 1-11.
Rawson, E. “Religion and Politics in the Late Second Century B.C. at Rome,” Phoenix 28 (1974),
192-212.
Rosenstein, N. “Competition and Crisis in Mid-Republican Rome,” Phoenix 47 (1993), 313-338.
Wiseman, T.P. “Competition and Co-operation,” Roman Political Life 90 B.C. - A.D. 69. Ed. T.P. Wiseman. Exeter, U.K.: 1985.
The composition and operation of the Roman Republic has had a great influence on many subsequent governments in the western world. One can observe many parallels, as the republic straddles political ideology in both antiquity and modern times. Yet it must be noted that the
republic as it existed in Rome was fundamentally determined by its place in history, and modern values must therefore not be equated with those in antiquity. While the vote of the people was part of the system, Rome was largely oligarchical. Herein will be examined the arrangement of the governmental system and the practice of getting elected as it existed largely in the mid- to late- republic. Additionally, the methods by which power was controlled, especially by the aristocracy will be noted.
Fundamentally, the republic was structured on ancient tribal groupings that had existed for centuries before its foundation. These tribes, which were based on familial ties and ancient land holdings, gathered together to form the tribal assembly, or comitia tributa. The fate of legislation presented to this assembly was determined by a majority vote of the tribes, which in turn was determined by a majority vote of the individual members of each tribe. A second assembly was also used for voting purposes, although this one, the comitia centuriata, was organized by age and wealth in addition to tribal divisions. From this assembly can be felt the power of the nobility as voting was taken by century, those of the poor being greatly outnumbered by those of the aristocratic class. One of the main purposes of these assemblies was to elect the various magistracies that existed at Rome to govern both the city and the provinces. The lesser magistracies–the quaestors, aediles, and tribunes–were determined by the comitia tributa, while the most important positions–the praetors, consuls, and censors–were elected by the vote of the centuries. The third important assembly in Rome was the Senate, which was constituted of ex-magistrates. By the late republic its authorization was required to pass legislation and any decrees it issued were to be strictly adhered to. Ironically, the power of the senate was increased by the attempts of two plebian tribunes to bypass its power. In order to pass land redistribution and other laws to aid the lower and middle classes, the brothers Gracchi demonstrated the power of the tribunate to appeal to the people. In response to this the senate issued the senatus consultum ultimatum, which declared martial law and resulted in the deaths of the Gracchi. In subsequent decrees of the S.C.U., the senate ratified the bill to persecute its enemies, declaring them ‘enemies of the state.’ Subsequently, the power of the tribunes were greatly diminished, and the senate became further empowered. Therefore, it can be easily observed that structurally, power in Rome was under tight control of the nobles.
Nobility was of great importance in obtaining political office in Rome. There was never a salary paid to the various magistracies of Rome, therefore the political system revolved around an individual’s ambitions for power, honor, and fame. There were many methods to gain all three during an individual’s political career. In order to advance through the cursus honorum, which was the established legal sequence of holding the various magistracies from quaestor to censor, an aspiring politician had to establish a good public image. Such could be most immediately accomplished through military victory and its consequent triumph; additionally, a triumphator could immortalize their victory by erecting statues and monuments to themselves. Furthermore, military crises could result in the continual support of a prominent military officer to retain imperium longer than was legally allowable. Similarly, the senate may have been anxious that the glory that some politicians would gain in triumph would undermine their power, and thus they may have attempted to influence consular elections: in the war against Hannibal, the senate did not want M. Terentius Varro, a consul who was critical of their abilities, to validate his claims by defeating Hannibal and therefore another consul was given the command. What the senate feared most was that a triumphant consul who was critical of them would be elevated to the censorship, as did C. Flaminius.
A second method of advancement, and one which was far more accessible than military command, was public oratory, either before the assemblies or in one of the various courts of Rome. An aspiring politician who was a competent speaker could easily sway the assembly to their ideologies. One of the more common tools used by politicians was to stress the important, or even divine, status of their ancestors: Gaius Gracchus emphasized the supernatural events of his family history by relating a ‘prophetic’ dream that he had pertaining to his then-deceased brother Tiberius. Additionally, prestige and political respect derived from the public’s belief that a politician conducted himself in an appropriate manner in both the public and private spheres and that he was not influenced by ‘enemies of the state’ or by gaining profit at public expense. Consequently, many attacks were made against opponents using these suspicions as a basis to promote a rising politician’s own cause. Respect and prestige could also be gained be the display of oratorical skills in the popular courts. A successful prosecution or defense would greatly increase a budding politician’s popularity, as demonstrated by Cicero’s winning prosecution of Verres. Alternately, a politician might use the courts to conspire against his opponents and improve his popularity. A common tactic was to accuse an opponent of bribery to lessen his support. Other charges, such as extortion, were used against political opponents in an effort not only to discredit them, but also to advance the interests of a politician and his supporters. It seems likely that the trial of Rutilius Rufus was conducted to ensure the economic interests of the equites in Asia and their support of G. Marius against certain senators. Such accusations were common enough to warrant a politician’s attention. Therefore they needed to secure a good sized group of friends, or amici, to protect him from public charges: these friends would act as witnesses, jurors, magistrates, and advocates in court; they would also be important in election times.
Ironically, many of these supporters were gained through bribery, either implicitly or explicitly displayed. While monetary ‘donations’ to potential supporters were common enough, more often a politician would be more discrete, gaining sponsors by presenting lavish diners, purchasing expensive clothes for them, and treating them to free seats at spectacles. While many laws were enacted to curtail the extent of bribery in politics, such laws were easily bypassed. Instead of a politician presenting dinners himself, he could employ his friends to do so for him; additionally, a politician could use the divisores, tribal officials, to distribute bribes among a tribe of which he was not an official patron. If support was not to be found through an open wallet, it could also be gained with a closed fist. Physical harassment of voters was common enough to force reforms in the assembly: secret ballots provided anonymity and the narrowing of the galleries that led to the tribunal decreased violence before elections. It is notable that the use of bribery and violence as means to persuade the voters and eliminate political rivals was largely executed by the senators and other members of the wealthy aristocracy; it was they alone who could afford bribes and gangs of toughs to support their desires through physical coercion. The issuing of the senatus consultum ultimum to execute G. Gracchus and many of his followers is a good example of this. Similarly, the nobility could control the vote of the assemblies by securing the rural vote, either through bribery or violence. Therefore it can be easily seen that many successful politicians in the mid- to late-republic were wealthy aristocrats.
The republic in Rome cannot be called a democracy as it was largely oligarchical in nature. From it’s structure to the methods of getting and keeping power, the republic emphasized the power of the wealthy. Indeed, there are many instances of the nobles’ keeping control over the republic against lower class politicians, or supporters of lower class values, from usurping too much power over the state; the massacres of the Gracchi and their followers are prime examples of this. Therefore, because of this, the democratic nature of the republic should not be over stressed.
Bibliography
Alexander, M. “How Many Roman Senators Were Ever Prosecuted?” Phoenix 47 (1993), 238-255.
Kallett-Marx, R. “The Trial of Rutilius Rufus,” Phoenix 44 (1990), 122-139.
Lintott, A. “Electoral Bribery in the Roman Republic,” JRS 80 (1990), 1-16.
Marsh, Frank Burr. A History of the Roman World from 146 to 30 B.C. London: 1963.
McDonald, A.H. Republican Rome. London: 1966.
Millar, F. “Politics, Persuasion, and the People Before the Social War (150-90 B.C.),” JRS 76
(1986), 1-11.
Rawson, E. “Religion and Politics in the Late Second Century B.C. at Rome,” Phoenix 28 (1974),
192-212.
Rosenstein, N. “Competition and Crisis in Mid-Republican Rome,” Phoenix 47 (1993), 313-338.
Wiseman, T.P. “Competition and Co-operation,” Roman Political Life 90 B.C. - A.D. 69. Ed. T.P. Wiseman. Exeter, U.K.: 1985.
Thursday, April 17, 1997
Socioeconomic Status and Academic Achievement
What is the relationship between socioeconomic status and academic opportunity and achievement?
Boudon, Raymond. (1974). “Basic Mechanisms Generating Inequality of Educational Opportunity.” Education, Opportunity, and Social Inequality. New York: John Wiley & Sons.
This chapter attempts to provide a model for the creation of the inequality of educational opportunity (IEO) among social classes; the author uses survey data to address this issue. Initially, the author identifies several theories concerning IEO from the sociological literature: the “value theory” states that people in different socioeconomic classes differ in their values; alternately, the “social position theory” proposes that an individual’s social aspirations are related to their socioeconomic origins. He then provides data to support his own model for the basis of IEO. By introducing a two-step process by which IEO is generated--the primary effects of social stratification and its secondary effects upon an individual’s decision-making process--the author attempts to explain the various aspects of his data that were inconsistent with each individual theory. This ideology agrees with the functional theory of stratification. The evidence provided supports the model and validates the author’s argument, and is indeed in my mind convincing. The chapter provides a basic explanation for the cause of IEO, it does not merely identify the problem, and is therefore more complete and constructive than some of the other works cited here.
Cloward, Richard A. (1961).“Socioeconomic position and Academic Underachievement.” In William M. Cave and Mark A. Chesler, ed., Sociology of Education: An Anthology of Issues and Problems (pp. 134-48). New York: Macmillan Publishing Co., Inc.
The author aspires to display an association between socioeconomic status and scholastic achievement; he uses archival data to support his argument. He begins his thesis by identifying two levels of underachievers: one who underachieves in contrast to the social ideology, and those who underachieve with the “unspoken support” of their society; those in the latter group largely constitute the lower class. Secondly, he explores the origins of the career mentality--high academic achievement at both secondary and post-secondary levels, leading to white-collar jobs--stressing it’s revolvement around middle-class values, which consequently excludes the lower class. He then states that students from the lower class perform poorly in school due to socialization: their parents do not expose them to intellectual matters necessary for academic success. The author’s ideology is consistent with the functional theory of social stratification, however it does contain elements of the conflict theory. I particularly favored this article as it focused upon people as individuals instead of collective classes. It was therefore more personal and convincing.
Hey, Stephen C., John A. Vonk, and Gary Willoughby. (1981). “A Theory of Academic Achievement.” In Blaine E. Mercer and Stephen C. Hey, ed., People in Schools: A Reader
of Learning and Teaching (pp. 97-118). Cambridge, Massachusetts: Schenkman Publishing, Inc.
The authors wish to prove that academic achievement is greatly influenced by socioeconomic status. They use archival data to support their thesis. The concept of the self plays a key role in determining academic success. Students are evaluated by authorities who ascribe certain prejudices to them; these evaluations negatively affect the student’s self image. Teachers subscribe to such prejudices because of their socioeconomic background, and that “success” in teaching revolves around changing behavior patterns in the students, a change most easily accomplished in middle-class students. Additionally, student tracking (assigning students to the various curricula) and ability grouping (classification of students into competency groups) influences self-image and consequently academic performance; such mechanisms greatly favor children from higher socioeconomic classes. This thesis is somewhat convincing--the supporting evidence is valid--yet it seems incomplete. It needs a more in-depth analysis of how self-image affects academic achievement (for example, it does not account for individuals of the low-class who have a bad self-image yet perform adequately in school: they seem motivated to transcend their socioeconomic status).
Martin, Wilfred B.W., and Allan J. Macdonell. (1982). “Educational Opportunities: Socioeconomic Variables.” Canadian Education: A Sociological Analysis. Scarborough, Ontario: Prentice-Hall Canada Inc.
In this section, the authors attempt to determine the extent to which socioeconomic variables influence academic opportunity and expectation. In order to accomplish this, they refer to the sociological literature (archival data) to provide evidence. The authors argue that there is indeed a strong correlation between the two. Most of the studies cited provide data showing that people from lower income families strive for less and consequently underachieve in their academic and career goals than their peers from the higher economic classes; this is frequently taken to the extreme point of ending their scholastic careers prematurely. Such a view is consistent with the functionalist theory of social stratification. While the argument is valid and the evidence complete and convincing, I would have preferred a more in-depth study. Perhaps personal interviews or a case study might have complemented the conclusiveness of the article.
Rist, Ray C. “Student Social Class and Teacher Expectations: The Self-Fulfilling Prophecy in Ghetto Education.” (1970). In Blaine E. Mercer and Stephen C. Hey, ed., People In Schools: A Reader of Learning and Teaching (pp. 75-96). Cambridge, Massachusetts: Schenkman Publishing Company, Inc.
The author provides a case study in an attempt to prove that students from low socioeconomic class perform poorly in school compared to their peers from the middle- and high-classes. Focusing initially on the teacher, the author demonstrates the prejudice of the educational system against students from the low class: they do not receive the amount of attention from the teacher as do their higher class peers. In response to this: the low-class students began to teach themselves; the higher class students internalized the ideology of the teacher and directed their derision upon the low-class students; and the low-class students ultimately began to show hostility towards each other. Ultimately, children from the low-class performed poorly, and continued to do so, because their success is not reinforced, and they lacked self-esteem and motivation concerning academics. Due to the personal nature of the evidence, I can relate to the issue presented; it is another study focusing upon individuals. It is quite effective in proving its point.
Boudon, Raymond. (1974). “Basic Mechanisms Generating Inequality of Educational Opportunity.” Education, Opportunity, and Social Inequality. New York: John Wiley & Sons.
This chapter attempts to provide a model for the creation of the inequality of educational opportunity (IEO) among social classes; the author uses survey data to address this issue. Initially, the author identifies several theories concerning IEO from the sociological literature: the “value theory” states that people in different socioeconomic classes differ in their values; alternately, the “social position theory” proposes that an individual’s social aspirations are related to their socioeconomic origins. He then provides data to support his own model for the basis of IEO. By introducing a two-step process by which IEO is generated--the primary effects of social stratification and its secondary effects upon an individual’s decision-making process--the author attempts to explain the various aspects of his data that were inconsistent with each individual theory. This ideology agrees with the functional theory of stratification. The evidence provided supports the model and validates the author’s argument, and is indeed in my mind convincing. The chapter provides a basic explanation for the cause of IEO, it does not merely identify the problem, and is therefore more complete and constructive than some of the other works cited here.
Cloward, Richard A. (1961).“Socioeconomic position and Academic Underachievement.” In William M. Cave and Mark A. Chesler, ed., Sociology of Education: An Anthology of Issues and Problems (pp. 134-48). New York: Macmillan Publishing Co., Inc.
The author aspires to display an association between socioeconomic status and scholastic achievement; he uses archival data to support his argument. He begins his thesis by identifying two levels of underachievers: one who underachieves in contrast to the social ideology, and those who underachieve with the “unspoken support” of their society; those in the latter group largely constitute the lower class. Secondly, he explores the origins of the career mentality--high academic achievement at both secondary and post-secondary levels, leading to white-collar jobs--stressing it’s revolvement around middle-class values, which consequently excludes the lower class. He then states that students from the lower class perform poorly in school due to socialization: their parents do not expose them to intellectual matters necessary for academic success. The author’s ideology is consistent with the functional theory of social stratification, however it does contain elements of the conflict theory. I particularly favored this article as it focused upon people as individuals instead of collective classes. It was therefore more personal and convincing.
Hey, Stephen C., John A. Vonk, and Gary Willoughby. (1981). “A Theory of Academic Achievement.” In Blaine E. Mercer and Stephen C. Hey, ed., People in Schools: A Reader
of Learning and Teaching (pp. 97-118). Cambridge, Massachusetts: Schenkman Publishing, Inc.
The authors wish to prove that academic achievement is greatly influenced by socioeconomic status. They use archival data to support their thesis. The concept of the self plays a key role in determining academic success. Students are evaluated by authorities who ascribe certain prejudices to them; these evaluations negatively affect the student’s self image. Teachers subscribe to such prejudices because of their socioeconomic background, and that “success” in teaching revolves around changing behavior patterns in the students, a change most easily accomplished in middle-class students. Additionally, student tracking (assigning students to the various curricula) and ability grouping (classification of students into competency groups) influences self-image and consequently academic performance; such mechanisms greatly favor children from higher socioeconomic classes. This thesis is somewhat convincing--the supporting evidence is valid--yet it seems incomplete. It needs a more in-depth analysis of how self-image affects academic achievement (for example, it does not account for individuals of the low-class who have a bad self-image yet perform adequately in school: they seem motivated to transcend their socioeconomic status).
Martin, Wilfred B.W., and Allan J. Macdonell. (1982). “Educational Opportunities: Socioeconomic Variables.” Canadian Education: A Sociological Analysis. Scarborough, Ontario: Prentice-Hall Canada Inc.
In this section, the authors attempt to determine the extent to which socioeconomic variables influence academic opportunity and expectation. In order to accomplish this, they refer to the sociological literature (archival data) to provide evidence. The authors argue that there is indeed a strong correlation between the two. Most of the studies cited provide data showing that people from lower income families strive for less and consequently underachieve in their academic and career goals than their peers from the higher economic classes; this is frequently taken to the extreme point of ending their scholastic careers prematurely. Such a view is consistent with the functionalist theory of social stratification. While the argument is valid and the evidence complete and convincing, I would have preferred a more in-depth study. Perhaps personal interviews or a case study might have complemented the conclusiveness of the article.
Rist, Ray C. “Student Social Class and Teacher Expectations: The Self-Fulfilling Prophecy in Ghetto Education.” (1970). In Blaine E. Mercer and Stephen C. Hey, ed., People In Schools: A Reader of Learning and Teaching (pp. 75-96). Cambridge, Massachusetts: Schenkman Publishing Company, Inc.
The author provides a case study in an attempt to prove that students from low socioeconomic class perform poorly in school compared to their peers from the middle- and high-classes. Focusing initially on the teacher, the author demonstrates the prejudice of the educational system against students from the low class: they do not receive the amount of attention from the teacher as do their higher class peers. In response to this: the low-class students began to teach themselves; the higher class students internalized the ideology of the teacher and directed their derision upon the low-class students; and the low-class students ultimately began to show hostility towards each other. Ultimately, children from the low-class performed poorly, and continued to do so, because their success is not reinforced, and they lacked self-esteem and motivation concerning academics. Due to the personal nature of the evidence, I can relate to the issue presented; it is another study focusing upon individuals. It is quite effective in proving its point.
Friday, April 11, 1997
Aeneas as Hercules Reincarnate
In creating the Aeneid, Virgil attempted to fashion a universal hero for the Roman world akin to Hercules in Greek mythology. The hero of the epic, Aeneas, was to exemplify Roman imperialism and unite the populace behind the empire much as Hercules consolidated the disparate Greek city-states. Indeed in many respects he is in a sense a reincarnation of Hercules, adapted to suit the more modern ideals of Rome. As such he shares many physical and psychological qualities with the Greek hero; indeed both men become elevated beyond mortal status by their prowess. However, the two heroes contrast in several respects, reflecting the differences between the Greek and Roman civilizations. While both Hercules and Aeneas defended against threats to civilization, to the Romans, Aeneas was much more enlightened and therefore infinitely superior to the barbaric Greek. Such ideals of moral superiority figure greatly in the character of Aeneas.
The traditional concept of heroic individuals or actions had not changed significantly by the dawn of the imperial age when the Aeneid was written. Thus Aeneas was an archetypal hero for the Romans, one whose character was based on ancient conventions and was centered mainly upon his physical prowess. The most overt aspects of his personality, and those that most clearly demonstrate his congruence with Hercules, are his strength and agility. While these traits do not become manifest until the war in Italy in the final books of the poem, the delay causes them to become emphasized. His great strength and dexterity allow him to overcome many Latins in battle. Indeed, his skill and courage in combat quickly become his dominant features as the war progresses. He shares with Hercules the utmost self-assurance which elevated physical ability allows. He does not check himself in battle but rather relishes it: upon returning to his besieged encampment, “Aeneas was the first to charge against the levies of country-folk...and he was the first to strike Latins down.” (Virgil, p.260). Additionally, his physical stamina allows him to endure both the long travels before reaching Italy and the rigors of battle against the Italians. Yet such courage and ability are sometimes misguided; Aeneas’s personality includes one of Hercules’s principal vices. Several instances in the Aeneid document Aeneas’s tendency toward losing control to his impulses, seen notably when rage overpowers his sense of judgement. Such occurs when he encounters Helen in the streets of Troy while it is being sacked by the Greeks. His fury over the loss of his beloved city allows “madness [to master his] judgement and [gain] complete control” (Virgil, p.68), and nearly causes him to attack the defenseless woman. During the dual with Turnus at the end of the text, Aeneas shows no pity towards the defeated Italian; indeed as he notices his opponent wearing the girdle of his companion Pallas, his “fury [kindles, and he becomes] terrible in his rage” (Virgil, p.338). However, unlike Hercules who frequently wallows in self-blame, he does not show such qualities as self-accusation and quick penitence for his hasty actions. It is not until he encounters Dido in the underworld that Aeneas displays any grief over his abandonment of her and her consequent suicide; yet despite such sorrow he remains ignorant of his personal accountability for her death. Similarly, after losing his wife Creusa while fleeing from Troy, Aeneas lays the blame not on himself but upon “some unkind power [that] robbed [him] of his wits....[he then] upbraided every deity, and cursed the whole human race.” (Virgil, p.73). Yet, such adverse characteristics do not greatly impede Aeneas in his quest. Conversely, by overcoming them Aeneas’s positive traits are emphasized: only truly distinguished individuals can achieve greatness despite such flaws.
Similarly to Hercules, Aeneas is elevated beyond mortal status by such qualities and by his many remarkable exploits. Virgil presents Aeneas in a manner of respect and admiration, identifying him as “Father Aeneas” and “Aeneas the True” throughout the text, implying his importance to the future Rome. By referring to him as “the True”, Virgil emphasizes not only Aeneas’s loyalty to his homeland and his family, but also the necessity of his campaign to establish Rome. The various titles given to him by Virgil appear to elevate him to the status of a minor deity for the Roman people; truly such was Virgil’s intent. Indeed, though he initially needs divine guidance, Aeneas focuses his energies upon his objective. Quite literally his eyes remain fixed, thereby adding to the image of a determined icon with a single-minded pursuit: against the despair and pleas of Dido, he “held his eyes steady” (Virgil, p.107). Within the narrative itself, his significance is confirmed by the attention he receives from the gods and the respect granted to him by the mortals he encounters. To his fellow Trojans he is not merely another refugee from the fallen city but their king and inspiration; in his presence they feel no fear. As they journey with Aeneas, they do not question his authority or fear failure, but rather they delight in the certainty of his success in founding their new home. Before entreating Aeneas to follow his destiny outside ravaged Troy, the dream-spirit of Hector calls him the “light of the Dardan Land [and] Troy’s surest hope” (Virgil, p.59). To the gods he is a mortal destined for greatness; indeed his quest is so substantial that for his protection he receives armour and a shield crafted by Vulcan. He was one of the few mortals who was allowed to bend the established order and pass living into the underworld, a journey required to ensure his understanding of the importance of his destiny. Yet, in order to reach such an exalted state he had to endure the wrath of Juno and Venus. Such consideration by the queen of the gods is akin to her involvement in the life of Hercules. As she hated Hercules, so she despised the Trojan people and Aeneas in particular for his destined establishment of the Roman empire and continually attempted to impede his quest; yet even she could not overthrow the Fates. Even the gods were powerless to obstruct his inevitable greatness.
Clearly their championing of civilization gave both Aeneas and Hercules their heroic status. The majority of the stories concerning Hercules are centered upon his preservation of civilization against the evils of the wilderness. An account of this is presented in Book VIII of the Aeneid, in which Hercules liberated the people of King Evander from the monster Cacus. The light of civilization was spared from barbarism as Hercules slew the monster and “tore down the doors and the murky den was thrown open” (Virgil, p.209). He accomplished the same feats while enduring his twelve labors, the bulk of which involved killing or subduing beasts who threatened society. Aeneas realized a similar accomplishment: to found Rome he first had to subdue and integrate the native Italians. His chief opponent, Turnus, was the absolute embodiment of barbarism; in many ways he was comparable to the adversaries of Hercules. He was a young hero who became consumed by his own passions and fiery temperament. Indeed, his appearance reflected his personality:
His tall helmet was crowned by a triple plume and supported a Chimera
breathing Etna’s fires from its jaws; and ever louder it roared, and madder
grew the menace of its flames as grimmer grew the battle amid streaming
blood. (Virgil, p.199)
Turnus’s appearance reflects that of Cacus, who “belched [Vulcan’s] pitchy fires out of his mouth” (Virgil, p.207). By vanquishing Turnus, Aeneas brings the light of civilization into Italy; literally he had transported the hearth-fires from Troy among his possessions. The nature of their conflict is important as well. The fate of both the Trojans and the Italians falls upon the outcome of a single dual between Aeneas and Turnus; the personifications of society and barbarism collide violently. Yet while both heroes crusaded to spread civilization, the extent to which they themselves were civilized was vastly dissimilar. Hercules’s weapon of choice was a club, a primitive bludgeoning device that requires little skill to employ. Alternately, Aeneas wielded spears and more importantly a sword, armaments that can only be constructed in more advanced societies and require an equal sophistication in their handling. Furthermore, while Aeneas shares a predilection toward impulsiveness, such passions are largely within his control and are relatively innocuous, and are certainly not comparable to the explosive anger frequently demonstrated by Hercules. Additionally, Aeneas never indulged excessively in the pleasures of the flesh; he was not one to become drunk in a time of mourning. Indeed as a whole his attitude toward his objective was infinitely more solemn and dignified--he views his destined achievements as crucial and monumental, not as a “piece of work” (Euripides, 481)-- and thus the reader appreciates the importance of Aeneas’s enterprise. By presenting the founder of Rome in such a manner, Virgil actualizes his intended purpose of displaying Rome’s destined dominance as cultural and societal ruler among nations.
To Virgil’s readers, Aeneas was revered and was recognized for being of infinite importance, much as Hercules was to the Greeks. Indeed, Aeneas was modeled after Hercules, and thus they have many characteristics in common. Yet Virgil wanted to portray a more cultured, sophisticated, and ultimately civilized hero as befitting the Roman empire, and therefore Aeneas was conceived as such. While the Romans respected Hercules, he was perceived as being as inferior to Aeneas as the Greek city-states were to Rome. Truly, Aeneas was the personification of Roman imperialism.
Bibliography
Euripides, Alcestis. Trans. Richmond Lattimore. Greek Tragedies. Ed. David Greene and Richmond Lattimore. Vol. 3. Chicago, United States of America: University of Chicago Press, 1968. 261-311.
Hamilton, Edith. Mythology. Boston, United States of America: Little Brown and Company, 1942.
Virgil, The Aeneid. Trans. W.F. Jackson Knight. Harmondsworth, England: Penguin Books Ltd., 1972.
The traditional concept of heroic individuals or actions had not changed significantly by the dawn of the imperial age when the Aeneid was written. Thus Aeneas was an archetypal hero for the Romans, one whose character was based on ancient conventions and was centered mainly upon his physical prowess. The most overt aspects of his personality, and those that most clearly demonstrate his congruence with Hercules, are his strength and agility. While these traits do not become manifest until the war in Italy in the final books of the poem, the delay causes them to become emphasized. His great strength and dexterity allow him to overcome many Latins in battle. Indeed, his skill and courage in combat quickly become his dominant features as the war progresses. He shares with Hercules the utmost self-assurance which elevated physical ability allows. He does not check himself in battle but rather relishes it: upon returning to his besieged encampment, “Aeneas was the first to charge against the levies of country-folk...and he was the first to strike Latins down.” (Virgil, p.260). Additionally, his physical stamina allows him to endure both the long travels before reaching Italy and the rigors of battle against the Italians. Yet such courage and ability are sometimes misguided; Aeneas’s personality includes one of Hercules’s principal vices. Several instances in the Aeneid document Aeneas’s tendency toward losing control to his impulses, seen notably when rage overpowers his sense of judgement. Such occurs when he encounters Helen in the streets of Troy while it is being sacked by the Greeks. His fury over the loss of his beloved city allows “madness [to master his] judgement and [gain] complete control” (Virgil, p.68), and nearly causes him to attack the defenseless woman. During the dual with Turnus at the end of the text, Aeneas shows no pity towards the defeated Italian; indeed as he notices his opponent wearing the girdle of his companion Pallas, his “fury [kindles, and he becomes] terrible in his rage” (Virgil, p.338). However, unlike Hercules who frequently wallows in self-blame, he does not show such qualities as self-accusation and quick penitence for his hasty actions. It is not until he encounters Dido in the underworld that Aeneas displays any grief over his abandonment of her and her consequent suicide; yet despite such sorrow he remains ignorant of his personal accountability for her death. Similarly, after losing his wife Creusa while fleeing from Troy, Aeneas lays the blame not on himself but upon “some unkind power [that] robbed [him] of his wits....[he then] upbraided every deity, and cursed the whole human race.” (Virgil, p.73). Yet, such adverse characteristics do not greatly impede Aeneas in his quest. Conversely, by overcoming them Aeneas’s positive traits are emphasized: only truly distinguished individuals can achieve greatness despite such flaws.
Similarly to Hercules, Aeneas is elevated beyond mortal status by such qualities and by his many remarkable exploits. Virgil presents Aeneas in a manner of respect and admiration, identifying him as “Father Aeneas” and “Aeneas the True” throughout the text, implying his importance to the future Rome. By referring to him as “the True”, Virgil emphasizes not only Aeneas’s loyalty to his homeland and his family, but also the necessity of his campaign to establish Rome. The various titles given to him by Virgil appear to elevate him to the status of a minor deity for the Roman people; truly such was Virgil’s intent. Indeed, though he initially needs divine guidance, Aeneas focuses his energies upon his objective. Quite literally his eyes remain fixed, thereby adding to the image of a determined icon with a single-minded pursuit: against the despair and pleas of Dido, he “held his eyes steady” (Virgil, p.107). Within the narrative itself, his significance is confirmed by the attention he receives from the gods and the respect granted to him by the mortals he encounters. To his fellow Trojans he is not merely another refugee from the fallen city but their king and inspiration; in his presence they feel no fear. As they journey with Aeneas, they do not question his authority or fear failure, but rather they delight in the certainty of his success in founding their new home. Before entreating Aeneas to follow his destiny outside ravaged Troy, the dream-spirit of Hector calls him the “light of the Dardan Land [and] Troy’s surest hope” (Virgil, p.59). To the gods he is a mortal destined for greatness; indeed his quest is so substantial that for his protection he receives armour and a shield crafted by Vulcan. He was one of the few mortals who was allowed to bend the established order and pass living into the underworld, a journey required to ensure his understanding of the importance of his destiny. Yet, in order to reach such an exalted state he had to endure the wrath of Juno and Venus. Such consideration by the queen of the gods is akin to her involvement in the life of Hercules. As she hated Hercules, so she despised the Trojan people and Aeneas in particular for his destined establishment of the Roman empire and continually attempted to impede his quest; yet even she could not overthrow the Fates. Even the gods were powerless to obstruct his inevitable greatness.
Clearly their championing of civilization gave both Aeneas and Hercules their heroic status. The majority of the stories concerning Hercules are centered upon his preservation of civilization against the evils of the wilderness. An account of this is presented in Book VIII of the Aeneid, in which Hercules liberated the people of King Evander from the monster Cacus. The light of civilization was spared from barbarism as Hercules slew the monster and “tore down the doors and the murky den was thrown open” (Virgil, p.209). He accomplished the same feats while enduring his twelve labors, the bulk of which involved killing or subduing beasts who threatened society. Aeneas realized a similar accomplishment: to found Rome he first had to subdue and integrate the native Italians. His chief opponent, Turnus, was the absolute embodiment of barbarism; in many ways he was comparable to the adversaries of Hercules. He was a young hero who became consumed by his own passions and fiery temperament. Indeed, his appearance reflected his personality:
His tall helmet was crowned by a triple plume and supported a Chimera
breathing Etna’s fires from its jaws; and ever louder it roared, and madder
grew the menace of its flames as grimmer grew the battle amid streaming
blood. (Virgil, p.199)
Turnus’s appearance reflects that of Cacus, who “belched [Vulcan’s] pitchy fires out of his mouth” (Virgil, p.207). By vanquishing Turnus, Aeneas brings the light of civilization into Italy; literally he had transported the hearth-fires from Troy among his possessions. The nature of their conflict is important as well. The fate of both the Trojans and the Italians falls upon the outcome of a single dual between Aeneas and Turnus; the personifications of society and barbarism collide violently. Yet while both heroes crusaded to spread civilization, the extent to which they themselves were civilized was vastly dissimilar. Hercules’s weapon of choice was a club, a primitive bludgeoning device that requires little skill to employ. Alternately, Aeneas wielded spears and more importantly a sword, armaments that can only be constructed in more advanced societies and require an equal sophistication in their handling. Furthermore, while Aeneas shares a predilection toward impulsiveness, such passions are largely within his control and are relatively innocuous, and are certainly not comparable to the explosive anger frequently demonstrated by Hercules. Additionally, Aeneas never indulged excessively in the pleasures of the flesh; he was not one to become drunk in a time of mourning. Indeed as a whole his attitude toward his objective was infinitely more solemn and dignified--he views his destined achievements as crucial and monumental, not as a “piece of work” (Euripides, 481)-- and thus the reader appreciates the importance of Aeneas’s enterprise. By presenting the founder of Rome in such a manner, Virgil actualizes his intended purpose of displaying Rome’s destined dominance as cultural and societal ruler among nations.
To Virgil’s readers, Aeneas was revered and was recognized for being of infinite importance, much as Hercules was to the Greeks. Indeed, Aeneas was modeled after Hercules, and thus they have many characteristics in common. Yet Virgil wanted to portray a more cultured, sophisticated, and ultimately civilized hero as befitting the Roman empire, and therefore Aeneas was conceived as such. While the Romans respected Hercules, he was perceived as being as inferior to Aeneas as the Greek city-states were to Rome. Truly, Aeneas was the personification of Roman imperialism.
Bibliography
Euripides, Alcestis. Trans. Richmond Lattimore. Greek Tragedies. Ed. David Greene and Richmond Lattimore. Vol. 3. Chicago, United States of America: University of Chicago Press, 1968. 261-311.
Hamilton, Edith. Mythology. Boston, United States of America: Little Brown and Company, 1942.
Virgil, The Aeneid. Trans. W.F. Jackson Knight. Harmondsworth, England: Penguin Books Ltd., 1972.
Thursday, November 21, 1996
Sexuality in Classical Mythology
Through the analysis of classical mythology one rapidly becomes aware that many of the stories therein are vehicles through which the ancients expressed their moral convictions. In particular, each of the stories of Narcissus, Hippolytus and Phaedra, and Pygmalion and Galatea demonstrate classical beliefs about the nature of human sexuality. They present very specific gender roles to which civilized peoples should ascribe. In addition, each of the stories displays the consequences of deviating from such positions, from the destruction of the self to the ruin of others. Each of the characters presented in these myths becomes doomed once it is shown that they act in opposition to their specified gender roles. Often in myth godly intervention is required to reinstate such ideological sexual roles and restore order. Such repercussions affect both male and female characters equally severely, yet it is the women who digress from their prescribed roles much more frequently. Thus it can be seen that ancient Greeks and Romans, while not quite misogynistic, greatly feared the revolutionary power which women could possess.
The traditional classical view of sexuality consisted of passive females who accepted the love forced upon them by their male counterparts. After being 'conquered' in such a fashion, women were to become loyal and obedient housewives while their husbands became productive members of society. Such an ideology can be seen in the story of Pygmalion and Galatea (Hamilton 1942, 145-50). Pygmalion, choosing to scorn the company of common women because of their deficiencies (1942, 146), focused his energies and attention on his art--sculpture. He creates a statue of remarkable beauty in both detail and form, and was thereafter entranced. Galatea herself is the zenith of the feminine ideal: she is forced to accept his affections without opinion or complaint. The intent of the original story is clear: one can possess the more immediately appealing aspects of the female sex--physical beauty and delicacy--while avoiding such 'undesirable' traits as personality and individuality. For a male do acquire such a favourable wife he must create and shape her, he must conquer her will. She will then become permanently his and unable to provide him with anything but "unutterable gratitude and joy" (1942, 149-50). As exemplified by the optimistic ending to the myth of Pygmalion and Galatea, thereafter the couple will experience a joyous and fruitful marriage. From such an ideology it can be seen that while men achieve power through the conquest and consequent subjugation of women, females become empowered by their devotion and chastity. Thus those women who scorn promiscuity are given an elevated status, and accordingly they receive attention from the gods , as presented in the story of Narcissus (1942, 113-15). The virginal nymphs of the forest, followers of Artemis, were constantly being pursued by Zeus for carnal favours, who is himself the epitome of the conquering male. The nymphs are kept to their sexual roles by Hera who threatens divine punishment for any perversion; there is no mistaking that she is the patron of marriage and of married life. She is continually attempting to regulate and maintain the established sexual order and her governing is both supreme and just; accordingly she is indisputably the consummate partner for Zeus. Together they represent the paragon to which individuals and couples should aspire. Therefore it can be seen that classically defined sexual roles are divinely ordained and thus absolute.
Many stories relayed by classical poets are centred upon the misfortunes experienced by women who vigorously pursue their hearts and their lovers. By doing so they defy their 'naturally' assigned passive role and become deviant aggressors. Due to this unnatural behaviour, much anguish and disaster is destined to transpire. Thus when Phaedra feverously pursues her stepson Hippolytus (1942, 220-23), she dooms herself to suffering the harsh consequences of her actions. Her love for Hippolytus will not remain unfulfilled for the superficial reason of his chastity, instead such passion must be dispelled to ensure the natural order. Indeed, Phaedra is sorrowfully aware of her social malefaction and the dilemmas which will soon arise: "[s]he fell in love with him, madly and miserably, overwhelmed with shame at such a love.." (1942, 220). Thus, as Phaedra realizes the tragedy of her situation she sees only one manner by which she can escape from it--her death. Phaedra's suicide is her final attempt not only at reconciliation with her role as female and wife, as well it is an appeasement to her betrayal of her husband Theseus. It is notably ironic that Theseus would believe his wife's final message instead of his son. He remains unaware of his wife's betrayal until the damage of her actions becomes irreversible:
There ought to be a true yardstick to measure affection by...some means to know who
is to be trusted and who is not....look at my son--proved base by the hand of her who
is dead....Her letter outweighs any words he could speak. [Hippolytus is] in exile from
this land.
(1942, 220)
Theseus seems oblivious to Phaedra's abnormal behaviour, instead he believes Hippolytus to have acted as the violent conqueror over her affections; such would be true to son's instinctive sexual nature. Thus Theseus views the catastrophes experienced by his household as attributable to otherwise normal sexual conduct. Indeed such seems antithetical to the poet's desire to express his gender maxims, yet the opposite is the case. From his trust in her it can be seen that Theseus has placed his wife into her natural feminine role , yet he too must suffer the consequences of her actions not only through her death, but the consequent death of his son as well. Thus the reader becomes truly aware of the deplorable nature of Phaedra; such are the true threats of a woman who rejects her inherent sexual duties. Equally punished for such delinquent behaviour is the nymph Echo from the story of Narcissus. She is continually chattering and speaking her mind. While investigating Zeus's most recent romances, Hera becomes "diverted...by Echo's gay chatter" (1942, 113) and ignores the purpose of her inquiry. Hence the consequence of female self-expression is futility, and Echo is punished accordingly: she can only speak once spoken to. Thus when she pursues Narcissus for herself, she cannot speak to him. Echo is acting out her punishment: she cannot become independent of her feminine nature despite all her efforts to the contrary. Consequently Echo "hid her blushes and her shame in a lonely cave....she has so wasted away with longing that only now her voice is left to her" (1942, 114).
Such reprimands are not conferred merely upon female sexual deviants however. Males can be punished with the same degree of ferocity on the occasion that they deviate from their prescribed sexual nature. In such cases male characters usually disdain women and thus prefer to remain chaste. A male who is raised in the classical world and shows himself to be impotent has become conquered himself. Such an abhorrently non-sexual male cannot properly exist within the classical context and is accordingly condemned. One such character is Narcissus who "would pass the loveliest [girls] carelessly by" (1942, 113). By refraining from the conquest of women he doomed himself to self-torment. Responding to a prayer from one of those women whom Narcissus wounded, the goddess Nemesis caused him to become enamoured by his own reflection in a pool of water and there sit until his death. Symbolically, much can be established of such an occurrence. Nemesis herself is the divine figure of righteous anger, an obvious selection to set the aberrant youth aright; ultimately it is just and inevitable that he is punished in such a fashion. In particular, it is suitable that Narcissus becomes infatuated by his own image, yet never able to consummate that love: what others have sought but could not obtain is unattainable to him as well. Even in death his soul remained unattainable: the nymphs seeking his body for burial did so in vain. Thus Narcissus was lost to his own depravity. While superficially dissimilar to the punishment of Narcissus, the fate of Hippolytus is equally deleterious. He too hated romantic love, instead adopting the path of the chaste hunter-goddess Artemis. Although his death was directly attributable to Phaedra's treachery, more figuratively he was condemned for a very similar rationale as Narcissus. His anomalously passive nature could not be allowed to persist in such a strictly dictated moral world as classical literature presents, most especially since he was the son of one of the great Greek heros, Theseus. Thus it is equitable that Hippolytus be condemned to exile and death; it is in such a manner that civilised order is re-established.
Classical mythology is exceedingly direct in its presentation of various characters and events; the stories relayed are readily understandable. Yet there is much that lies beneath the seemingly simplistic exterior of these myths. Many of the stories present precisely defined ethics and the consequences of defying them. Such is presented in the myths of Narcissus, Hippolytus and Phaedra, and Pygmalion and Galatea, wherein the nature of human sexuality is defined. They portray a sexual hierarchy in very concrete terms: the male is to dominate the female. Both sexes should be aware of their station and act accordingly. As these myths exhibit, the consequences for disobeying such sexual roles are quite severe. While the relevance of such a sexual hierarchy to modern society cannot be completely justified, in order to fully comprehend classical literature one must place himself into the mindset of the contemporary readers of the classical era and thus accept such a structure.
NOTES
Referring to classical mythology presently and henceforth, the term is meant to imply content from both the Greek and Roman literature. The literary content of this essay is drawn from Edith Hamilton's Mythology (1942), who has taken from the Greek dramatists Euripides and Sophocles and the Roman poet Ovid.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Hamilton, Edith. Mythology. Boston, United States of America: Little, Brown and Company,
1942.
The traditional classical view of sexuality consisted of passive females who accepted the love forced upon them by their male counterparts. After being 'conquered' in such a fashion, women were to become loyal and obedient housewives while their husbands became productive members of society. Such an ideology can be seen in the story of Pygmalion and Galatea (Hamilton 1942, 145-50). Pygmalion, choosing to scorn the company of common women because of their deficiencies (1942, 146), focused his energies and attention on his art--sculpture. He creates a statue of remarkable beauty in both detail and form, and was thereafter entranced. Galatea herself is the zenith of the feminine ideal: she is forced to accept his affections without opinion or complaint. The intent of the original story is clear: one can possess the more immediately appealing aspects of the female sex--physical beauty and delicacy--while avoiding such 'undesirable' traits as personality and individuality. For a male do acquire such a favourable wife he must create and shape her, he must conquer her will. She will then become permanently his and unable to provide him with anything but "unutterable gratitude and joy" (1942, 149-50). As exemplified by the optimistic ending to the myth of Pygmalion and Galatea, thereafter the couple will experience a joyous and fruitful marriage. From such an ideology it can be seen that while men achieve power through the conquest and consequent subjugation of women, females become empowered by their devotion and chastity. Thus those women who scorn promiscuity are given an elevated status, and accordingly they receive attention from the gods , as presented in the story of Narcissus (1942, 113-15). The virginal nymphs of the forest, followers of Artemis, were constantly being pursued by Zeus for carnal favours, who is himself the epitome of the conquering male. The nymphs are kept to their sexual roles by Hera who threatens divine punishment for any perversion; there is no mistaking that she is the patron of marriage and of married life. She is continually attempting to regulate and maintain the established sexual order and her governing is both supreme and just; accordingly she is indisputably the consummate partner for Zeus. Together they represent the paragon to which individuals and couples should aspire. Therefore it can be seen that classically defined sexual roles are divinely ordained and thus absolute.
Many stories relayed by classical poets are centred upon the misfortunes experienced by women who vigorously pursue their hearts and their lovers. By doing so they defy their 'naturally' assigned passive role and become deviant aggressors. Due to this unnatural behaviour, much anguish and disaster is destined to transpire. Thus when Phaedra feverously pursues her stepson Hippolytus (1942, 220-23), she dooms herself to suffering the harsh consequences of her actions. Her love for Hippolytus will not remain unfulfilled for the superficial reason of his chastity, instead such passion must be dispelled to ensure the natural order. Indeed, Phaedra is sorrowfully aware of her social malefaction and the dilemmas which will soon arise: "[s]he fell in love with him, madly and miserably, overwhelmed with shame at such a love.." (1942, 220). Thus, as Phaedra realizes the tragedy of her situation she sees only one manner by which she can escape from it--her death. Phaedra's suicide is her final attempt not only at reconciliation with her role as female and wife, as well it is an appeasement to her betrayal of her husband Theseus. It is notably ironic that Theseus would believe his wife's final message instead of his son. He remains unaware of his wife's betrayal until the damage of her actions becomes irreversible:
There ought to be a true yardstick to measure affection by...some means to know who
is to be trusted and who is not....look at my son--proved base by the hand of her who
is dead....Her letter outweighs any words he could speak. [Hippolytus is] in exile from
this land.
(1942, 220)
Theseus seems oblivious to Phaedra's abnormal behaviour, instead he believes Hippolytus to have acted as the violent conqueror over her affections; such would be true to son's instinctive sexual nature. Thus Theseus views the catastrophes experienced by his household as attributable to otherwise normal sexual conduct. Indeed such seems antithetical to the poet's desire to express his gender maxims, yet the opposite is the case. From his trust in her it can be seen that Theseus has placed his wife into her natural feminine role , yet he too must suffer the consequences of her actions not only through her death, but the consequent death of his son as well. Thus the reader becomes truly aware of the deplorable nature of Phaedra; such are the true threats of a woman who rejects her inherent sexual duties. Equally punished for such delinquent behaviour is the nymph Echo from the story of Narcissus. She is continually chattering and speaking her mind. While investigating Zeus's most recent romances, Hera becomes "diverted...by Echo's gay chatter" (1942, 113) and ignores the purpose of her inquiry. Hence the consequence of female self-expression is futility, and Echo is punished accordingly: she can only speak once spoken to. Thus when she pursues Narcissus for herself, she cannot speak to him. Echo is acting out her punishment: she cannot become independent of her feminine nature despite all her efforts to the contrary. Consequently Echo "hid her blushes and her shame in a lonely cave....she has so wasted away with longing that only now her voice is left to her" (1942, 114).
Such reprimands are not conferred merely upon female sexual deviants however. Males can be punished with the same degree of ferocity on the occasion that they deviate from their prescribed sexual nature. In such cases male characters usually disdain women and thus prefer to remain chaste. A male who is raised in the classical world and shows himself to be impotent has become conquered himself. Such an abhorrently non-sexual male cannot properly exist within the classical context and is accordingly condemned. One such character is Narcissus who "would pass the loveliest [girls] carelessly by" (1942, 113). By refraining from the conquest of women he doomed himself to self-torment. Responding to a prayer from one of those women whom Narcissus wounded, the goddess Nemesis caused him to become enamoured by his own reflection in a pool of water and there sit until his death. Symbolically, much can be established of such an occurrence. Nemesis herself is the divine figure of righteous anger, an obvious selection to set the aberrant youth aright; ultimately it is just and inevitable that he is punished in such a fashion. In particular, it is suitable that Narcissus becomes infatuated by his own image, yet never able to consummate that love: what others have sought but could not obtain is unattainable to him as well. Even in death his soul remained unattainable: the nymphs seeking his body for burial did so in vain. Thus Narcissus was lost to his own depravity. While superficially dissimilar to the punishment of Narcissus, the fate of Hippolytus is equally deleterious. He too hated romantic love, instead adopting the path of the chaste hunter-goddess Artemis. Although his death was directly attributable to Phaedra's treachery, more figuratively he was condemned for a very similar rationale as Narcissus. His anomalously passive nature could not be allowed to persist in such a strictly dictated moral world as classical literature presents, most especially since he was the son of one of the great Greek heros, Theseus. Thus it is equitable that Hippolytus be condemned to exile and death; it is in such a manner that civilised order is re-established.
Classical mythology is exceedingly direct in its presentation of various characters and events; the stories relayed are readily understandable. Yet there is much that lies beneath the seemingly simplistic exterior of these myths. Many of the stories present precisely defined ethics and the consequences of defying them. Such is presented in the myths of Narcissus, Hippolytus and Phaedra, and Pygmalion and Galatea, wherein the nature of human sexuality is defined. They portray a sexual hierarchy in very concrete terms: the male is to dominate the female. Both sexes should be aware of their station and act accordingly. As these myths exhibit, the consequences for disobeying such sexual roles are quite severe. While the relevance of such a sexual hierarchy to modern society cannot be completely justified, in order to fully comprehend classical literature one must place himself into the mindset of the contemporary readers of the classical era and thus accept such a structure.
NOTES
Referring to classical mythology presently and henceforth, the term is meant to imply content from both the Greek and Roman literature. The literary content of this essay is drawn from Edith Hamilton's Mythology (1942), who has taken from the Greek dramatists Euripides and Sophocles and the Roman poet Ovid.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Hamilton, Edith. Mythology. Boston, United States of America: Little, Brown and Company,
1942.
Wednesday, October 02, 1996
The Tragical History of the Death of Perseus, Son of Zeus -- a one act play
Dramatis Personae
Spirit of Perseus
Hades, Lord of the Underworld
Persephone, wife of Hades and Queen of the Underworld
Spirit of Medusa, a gorgon
Spirit of Acrisius, King of Larissa
Hermes, god and escort
Chorus, the souls of the dead [naked and pale, they stand unmoving]
Scene – Cavern of the Underworld; throne room of Hades and Persephone, who sit upon black stone surrounded by the Chorus.
[Enter Spirit of Perseus, led by Hermes]
HERMES: Lord Hades, Lady Persephone, I bear greetings and a suppliant – Perseum, son of Zeus and liberator of Ethiopia. Lord Zeus has decreed that you grant him audience.
HADES: Greetings, Lord Hermes. Your coming was not unexpected. We have already decided to grant audience to the son of Zeus.
HERMES: Zeus conveys his gratitude.
HADES: Bear my tidings to my brother, lord of the above-worlds, and tell him that Perseus’s words will reach our ears. [Exit Hermes] Greetings to you Perseus. Your deeds are known throughout the world above, and are not unknown to us as well. Tales of your great lineage – conceived by Zeus to the maiden Danae – as well as your childhood at Seriphos have been well told since. Your trials with the Grey Women and the Gorgons have passed the lips of many men. Your slaying of the serpent and rescuing of fair Andromeda will be remembered in Ethiopia long after it becomes a forgotten country itself. You have asked for our audience, and it has been granted. Now speak.
PERSEUS: King Hades, Queen Persephone, on my knees I greet you.
PERSEPHONE: You merely need to speak your mind. You do not need to entreat yourself before us.
PERSEUS: I wish that your lordships will grant me a favour. My wife Andromeda is without child. Yet many suitors wish to claim her and would then claim my bloodline. I do not wish to be forgotten.
PERSEPHONE: Such mortal affairs concern us little.
HADES: His wish may yet be granted however, provided that it conforms with my established order.
PERSEUS: I wish to be returned to the above-world to provide my wife with child and care for them until he is grown to manhood. I wish to be again among the living.
PERSEPHONE: Intolerable.
HADES: Such has occurred only once before. The balladeer Orpheus entered my world and led the soul of his love Eurydice to the overlands only to lose her to his mistrust.
PERSEPHONE: He had caused the Furies to weep. They did not forgive him.
HADES: Such will happen again. Yet I do not wish it to occur at this moment.
PERSEUS: [kneeling] I beg your mercy, O Lord of the Under-realm! My life was so full of deeds and yet my death was so tragic.
HADES: Tragic? Your death was a mere pittance when brought in relation to the tragic ends you gave unto others. Son of Zeus, meet the consequences of your heroism.
[Enter Spirit of Acrisius, hands bound in chains to his feet]
ACRISIUS: Hail, my daughter’s son, my murderer.
PERSEUS: Hail to you, once-king. Although I did not kill you intentionally, I do not regret or grieve for having done so.
ACRISIUS: Such words are to be expected from one such as you, my fated killer.
PERSEUS: I have no sympathy for you, you who wished me dead. You who sent your own daughter with me a babe in her arms to a watery prison. May the gods bless sweet Dictys who saved us from our confinement. After such abandonment I cannot place the remorse of your death upon my shoulders.
ACRISIUS: How was I to act otherwise? It had been prophesied that you would kill me. One cannot leave oneself to fate without acting upon it. Thus I tried to abandon you. Yet you struck me down, not in combat but from afar by a toss of a discus. And for my deeds I must wear these chains which bind me from further action. Such patience, such a ploy. Would that the Furies have had the power to act upon my murderer. Yet too late, you arrive here by other means. So be it. My blood remains on your hands. May the gods be merciful in the Underworld as they had been during your living travels. I leave you with your guilt. [Exit]
PERSEUS: Fool! I will not listen to his ravings.
PERSEPHONE: The mortal’s comportment does not endeavour me to his cause.
HADES: Let us yet see how he composes himself with this next one.
[Enter Spirit of Medusa (seen in human form, as prior to her transformation into a gorgon)]
MEDUSA: I greet you, my slayer. Forgive me for not thanking you for aiding me in my return to my former beauty. Such acts of heroism were not requested or appreciated.
PERSEUS: It was not my intention to aid one such as you. My actions were to save my mother from the tyrant Polydectes. It was he who wanted your head, so I did as was required.
MEDUSA: Such a noble act! Would that you had hidden your pride and shown your bravery, you could have risen to action against him yourself. Yet you requred me as a sacrifice.
PERSEUS: You were a dreaded monster fit to be killed!
MEDUSA: I was one among three who desired merely to exist! I had not slighted you in any way, nor had any intention to do so. You did not even have the presence to face me in combat. Killed from above while asleep, aided by the gods. The cap of darkness which shielded you from my sisters was proof of your cowardice.
PERSEUS: It was through my bravery that you were slain and Ethiopia was saved.
MEDUSA: Such boasts! You have done no more than any other man when aided by the gods.
PERSEUS: I was chosen to be a hero among men, thus befitting the gifts from the gods. You were fated to be killed by my hand and mine alone.
MEDUSA: Enough! You remain ignorant and cowardly hide yourself behind your false identity. May you suffer twice as Tityus among the vultures! [Exit]
PERSEPHONE: He has now offended both of them.
HADES: Perhaps now you may reconsider your nature. Once considered the saviour of men you are now one among many. You do not appeal yourself to us anymore than the countless other souls who have entered my realm. You will however be granted one boon. You may return to your lady Andromeda for one hour. Zeus will aid you to plant your seed within her while she sleeps. Then you will return to the Underdark not knowing your son. He will indeed grow to manhood and beget a powerful family. His grandson will truly become what you could not – first among men. When you return, you will accept your death as others have.
PERSEUS: Such therefore is my fate. I thank you My Lord and Lady. [Exit]
PERSEPHONE: He has now accepted his fate.
HADES: Indeed, yet his bloodline will continue along the paths he has trodden. Were it not Zeus’s will I would have not allowed his wish. His kin will cause future strife within my realm.
PERSEPHONE: So be it. The name of Perseus will not be forgotten. [Exeunt]
CHORUS: Please grace us to understand,
We have no meaning to offend,
With known tales we cannot contend,
Such knowledge is not yet at hand.
Old wrongs needed to be set aright,
Such creations needed to be told,
Now fitting with stories of old,
We bid you a fair and goodnight. [Exeunt]
Spirit of Perseus
Hades, Lord of the Underworld
Persephone, wife of Hades and Queen of the Underworld
Spirit of Medusa, a gorgon
Spirit of Acrisius, King of Larissa
Hermes, god and escort
Chorus, the souls of the dead [naked and pale, they stand unmoving]
Scene – Cavern of the Underworld; throne room of Hades and Persephone, who sit upon black stone surrounded by the Chorus.
[Enter Spirit of Perseus, led by Hermes]
HERMES: Lord Hades, Lady Persephone, I bear greetings and a suppliant – Perseum, son of Zeus and liberator of Ethiopia. Lord Zeus has decreed that you grant him audience.
HADES: Greetings, Lord Hermes. Your coming was not unexpected. We have already decided to grant audience to the son of Zeus.
HERMES: Zeus conveys his gratitude.
HADES: Bear my tidings to my brother, lord of the above-worlds, and tell him that Perseus’s words will reach our ears. [Exit Hermes] Greetings to you Perseus. Your deeds are known throughout the world above, and are not unknown to us as well. Tales of your great lineage – conceived by Zeus to the maiden Danae – as well as your childhood at Seriphos have been well told since. Your trials with the Grey Women and the Gorgons have passed the lips of many men. Your slaying of the serpent and rescuing of fair Andromeda will be remembered in Ethiopia long after it becomes a forgotten country itself. You have asked for our audience, and it has been granted. Now speak.
PERSEUS: King Hades, Queen Persephone, on my knees I greet you.
PERSEPHONE: You merely need to speak your mind. You do not need to entreat yourself before us.
PERSEUS: I wish that your lordships will grant me a favour. My wife Andromeda is without child. Yet many suitors wish to claim her and would then claim my bloodline. I do not wish to be forgotten.
PERSEPHONE: Such mortal affairs concern us little.
HADES: His wish may yet be granted however, provided that it conforms with my established order.
PERSEUS: I wish to be returned to the above-world to provide my wife with child and care for them until he is grown to manhood. I wish to be again among the living.
PERSEPHONE: Intolerable.
HADES: Such has occurred only once before. The balladeer Orpheus entered my world and led the soul of his love Eurydice to the overlands only to lose her to his mistrust.
PERSEPHONE: He had caused the Furies to weep. They did not forgive him.
HADES: Such will happen again. Yet I do not wish it to occur at this moment.
PERSEUS: [kneeling] I beg your mercy, O Lord of the Under-realm! My life was so full of deeds and yet my death was so tragic.
HADES: Tragic? Your death was a mere pittance when brought in relation to the tragic ends you gave unto others. Son of Zeus, meet the consequences of your heroism.
[Enter Spirit of Acrisius, hands bound in chains to his feet]
ACRISIUS: Hail, my daughter’s son, my murderer.
PERSEUS: Hail to you, once-king. Although I did not kill you intentionally, I do not regret or grieve for having done so.
ACRISIUS: Such words are to be expected from one such as you, my fated killer.
PERSEUS: I have no sympathy for you, you who wished me dead. You who sent your own daughter with me a babe in her arms to a watery prison. May the gods bless sweet Dictys who saved us from our confinement. After such abandonment I cannot place the remorse of your death upon my shoulders.
ACRISIUS: How was I to act otherwise? It had been prophesied that you would kill me. One cannot leave oneself to fate without acting upon it. Thus I tried to abandon you. Yet you struck me down, not in combat but from afar by a toss of a discus. And for my deeds I must wear these chains which bind me from further action. Such patience, such a ploy. Would that the Furies have had the power to act upon my murderer. Yet too late, you arrive here by other means. So be it. My blood remains on your hands. May the gods be merciful in the Underworld as they had been during your living travels. I leave you with your guilt. [Exit]
PERSEUS: Fool! I will not listen to his ravings.
PERSEPHONE: The mortal’s comportment does not endeavour me to his cause.
HADES: Let us yet see how he composes himself with this next one.
[Enter Spirit of Medusa (seen in human form, as prior to her transformation into a gorgon)]
MEDUSA: I greet you, my slayer. Forgive me for not thanking you for aiding me in my return to my former beauty. Such acts of heroism were not requested or appreciated.
PERSEUS: It was not my intention to aid one such as you. My actions were to save my mother from the tyrant Polydectes. It was he who wanted your head, so I did as was required.
MEDUSA: Such a noble act! Would that you had hidden your pride and shown your bravery, you could have risen to action against him yourself. Yet you requred me as a sacrifice.
PERSEUS: You were a dreaded monster fit to be killed!
MEDUSA: I was one among three who desired merely to exist! I had not slighted you in any way, nor had any intention to do so. You did not even have the presence to face me in combat. Killed from above while asleep, aided by the gods. The cap of darkness which shielded you from my sisters was proof of your cowardice.
PERSEUS: It was through my bravery that you were slain and Ethiopia was saved.
MEDUSA: Such boasts! You have done no more than any other man when aided by the gods.
PERSEUS: I was chosen to be a hero among men, thus befitting the gifts from the gods. You were fated to be killed by my hand and mine alone.
MEDUSA: Enough! You remain ignorant and cowardly hide yourself behind your false identity. May you suffer twice as Tityus among the vultures! [Exit]
PERSEPHONE: He has now offended both of them.
HADES: Perhaps now you may reconsider your nature. Once considered the saviour of men you are now one among many. You do not appeal yourself to us anymore than the countless other souls who have entered my realm. You will however be granted one boon. You may return to your lady Andromeda for one hour. Zeus will aid you to plant your seed within her while she sleeps. Then you will return to the Underdark not knowing your son. He will indeed grow to manhood and beget a powerful family. His grandson will truly become what you could not – first among men. When you return, you will accept your death as others have.
PERSEUS: Such therefore is my fate. I thank you My Lord and Lady. [Exit]
PERSEPHONE: He has now accepted his fate.
HADES: Indeed, yet his bloodline will continue along the paths he has trodden. Were it not Zeus’s will I would have not allowed his wish. His kin will cause future strife within my realm.
PERSEPHONE: So be it. The name of Perseus will not be forgotten. [Exeunt]
CHORUS: Please grace us to understand,
We have no meaning to offend,
With known tales we cannot contend,
Such knowledge is not yet at hand.
Old wrongs needed to be set aright,
Such creations needed to be told,
Now fitting with stories of old,
We bid you a fair and goodnight. [Exeunt]
Wednesday, July 19, 1995
Wednesday, March 08, 1995
Hang ‘Em High, And I Don’t Mean Laundry!
I’ve noticed a trend recently in Hollywood movies: nudity. That might not particularly be a new thing, what with all those women losing their clothes while escaping from psychotic killers and men doing those famous moonbeam-butt-walks. But what has become more and more prevalent is the display of the penis – aka junk, snake-eating-apple, dangler, family shame, fool’s gold, etc. And I have to say: thank god, finally!
Now, before anybody says anything about me being a limp-wristed, blouse-wearing Nancy, I have to say in my defence that I’m as burly as the next guy and would prefer to see beautiful blondes in various stages of undress than Bruce Willis’s particular intimates, no matter how important his maker of babies might be to the plot.
But guys, you have to look at this objectively. Women have been naked and exposed in the limelight for a century now (not all of those black-and-white movies were about pie fights and Christmas money-laundering schemes), and many women are demanding equal access to seeing their favourite lead males with their knickers down and their tackle ready to fish.Just a few nights ago, I was at the theatre when, during a love scene, two elderly women jumped up and started screaming. “Turn around, you sweating hunk! We want to see you sling all you’ve got! We want to drool over your raging masculinity!” Needless to say several police officers arrived and subdued the women with tasers.
Obviously, women wish to see more naked men. Before you say how immoral such a display would be, think objectively about nudity. Why should only females be naked on screen? Some argue that the beauty of the female form enhances the artistic message that the film-maker is trying to get across. Sure, any guy’s interpretation of a film’s importance will be enhanced by a shot of breasts.
But why is the male body not seen as beautiful? Surely it could convey very good artistic messages of its own. For example, masculinity and males in general have taken a nose dive recently (I mean that figuratively, boys). With all the Bobbit jokes floating around, and the concept of a modern man being sensitive even above his own needs, the male ego has been severely thrashed, left to lick its wounded privates.
The image of a powerful, virile, and nakedly masculine male can only enhance the male reputation. As long, of course, as that image is of a normal, statistically-average male. No more Schwarzenegger or hid numerous clones, no more porn stars, but a normal-looking husband-type guy. We’ve learned from those horrid mistakes that naked screen women went through. 36-28-36 or 30 centimetres? Yeah, good bloody luck.
I should point out that other countries don’t view male nudity in the same vein. Many other countries, especially in Europe, are much more enlightened to such displays. As a matter of fact, nearly every movie released in France in the last quarter century has at least one shot of a penis (sometimes with an arrow). And I’ve only seen the family films. European men, while they have many other strange problems, are not subject to the same failed ego of North American males that so plagues this decade, reducing us to virtual incompetence. We should take notice of the enlightened state of European sexuality to further our acceptance of big screen junk dealers. I am constantly hearing foreigners joke about the immature nature of sexuality in Hollywood films, ans I have to agree with them.
It’s a sad state of affairs when a human body, female or male, is seen as obscene and something to be kept private. Defy that with all of your might. The next time you see a naked man onscreen, stand up and scream: “Yes, sling everything you’ve got, my beautiful supporter of masculine identity!” We males need all the help we can get.
Now, before anybody says anything about me being a limp-wristed, blouse-wearing Nancy, I have to say in my defence that I’m as burly as the next guy and would prefer to see beautiful blondes in various stages of undress than Bruce Willis’s particular intimates, no matter how important his maker of babies might be to the plot.
But guys, you have to look at this objectively. Women have been naked and exposed in the limelight for a century now (not all of those black-and-white movies were about pie fights and Christmas money-laundering schemes), and many women are demanding equal access to seeing their favourite lead males with their knickers down and their tackle ready to fish.Just a few nights ago, I was at the theatre when, during a love scene, two elderly women jumped up and started screaming. “Turn around, you sweating hunk! We want to see you sling all you’ve got! We want to drool over your raging masculinity!” Needless to say several police officers arrived and subdued the women with tasers.
Obviously, women wish to see more naked men. Before you say how immoral such a display would be, think objectively about nudity. Why should only females be naked on screen? Some argue that the beauty of the female form enhances the artistic message that the film-maker is trying to get across. Sure, any guy’s interpretation of a film’s importance will be enhanced by a shot of breasts.
But why is the male body not seen as beautiful? Surely it could convey very good artistic messages of its own. For example, masculinity and males in general have taken a nose dive recently (I mean that figuratively, boys). With all the Bobbit jokes floating around, and the concept of a modern man being sensitive even above his own needs, the male ego has been severely thrashed, left to lick its wounded privates.
The image of a powerful, virile, and nakedly masculine male can only enhance the male reputation. As long, of course, as that image is of a normal, statistically-average male. No more Schwarzenegger or hid numerous clones, no more porn stars, but a normal-looking husband-type guy. We’ve learned from those horrid mistakes that naked screen women went through. 36-28-36 or 30 centimetres? Yeah, good bloody luck.
I should point out that other countries don’t view male nudity in the same vein. Many other countries, especially in Europe, are much more enlightened to such displays. As a matter of fact, nearly every movie released in France in the last quarter century has at least one shot of a penis (sometimes with an arrow). And I’ve only seen the family films. European men, while they have many other strange problems, are not subject to the same failed ego of North American males that so plagues this decade, reducing us to virtual incompetence. We should take notice of the enlightened state of European sexuality to further our acceptance of big screen junk dealers. I am constantly hearing foreigners joke about the immature nature of sexuality in Hollywood films, ans I have to agree with them.
It’s a sad state of affairs when a human body, female or male, is seen as obscene and something to be kept private. Defy that with all of your might. The next time you see a naked man onscreen, stand up and scream: “Yes, sling everything you’ve got, my beautiful supporter of masculine identity!” We males need all the help we can get.
Friday, February 11, 1994
Some old photographs
woman is under the thumb of man, 1994
bench with chemical discolouration, 1994
westdale hardware, 1994
Monday, January 14, 1991
untitled (she received the message)
as the birds want the sky
so my soul longs for you
you alone are my heart's desire
and i long to be with you
you alone are my strength, my trust
to you alone may my spirit lust
you alone are my heart's desire
and i long to touch you
i want you more than gold or silver
only your presence can satisfy
you are my joy giver
and i long for a glimpse from your beautiful eyes
i feel that i've been alive for a thousand years
and so far it's been a bore
i wanted to die before i met you
but now i'll live a thousand more
as the deer pants for water
so my soul needs you
i love you more than anything
so much more than anything
so my soul longs for you
you alone are my heart's desire
and i long to be with you
you alone are my strength, my trust
to you alone may my spirit lust
you alone are my heart's desire
and i long to touch you
i want you more than gold or silver
only your presence can satisfy
you are my joy giver
and i long for a glimpse from your beautiful eyes
i feel that i've been alive for a thousand years
and so far it's been a bore
i wanted to die before i met you
but now i'll live a thousand more
as the deer pants for water
so my soul needs you
i love you more than anything
so much more than anything
Sunday, July 15, 1990
Le Dragon (1990)
Le Dragon
En route à Sharmagon,
J’ai rencontré un grand dragon.
Pendant tout le temps que j’ai vu des dragons,
Il était le plus grand (et j’en ai vu beaucoup dans mon temps)!
Le dragon, il avait l’air très faim,
Comme s’il survivait sur juste du pain.
Ses yeux était rouges comme un pommier,
Et sortant de ses narines, des bouffées de fumée.
Quand je lui ai regardé,
J’ai essayé de me cacher.
Le dragon, avec sa grande bouche, a dit,
“Tu ne peux pas courir, je sais où tu vis!”
Il n’y avait rien à faire, je ne pouvais pas courir.
Le dragon m’a regardé et il a dit, “Ha tu me fis rire.”
J’avais très peur, je suis sorti de mon trou.
“Ok, je vais rester,” j’ai dit. “Mais c’est tout.”
Mon cerveau pensait à ne pas être mangé.
“Mais tu ne peux pas me manger. On pourrait s’arranger?”
“Je pourrais faire cet arrangement, “ dit le dragon rigoureux.
“Mais tu dois attraper un autre pour moi. Peut être un d’eux?”
Le dragon me montre quatre personnes qui marchaient dans le bois.
“Ils sont gros et ont l’aire delicieux. Attrape-en un pour moi.”
“Non je ne veux pas!” j’ai dit, en croissant mes mains.
“Ok. Je vais TE manger! J’ai très faim!”
Et le dragon m’a mangé.
Google translated version
Dragon En route to Sharmagon, I met a great dragon. During the time that I saw dragons,it was the largest (and I've seen a lot in my time!) The dragon, he the very hungry air, as if he survived on just bread. His eyes were as red as an apple tree, And out of his nostrils, puffs of smoke. When I looked at him, I tried to hide. The dragon, with his big mouth, said,"You can not run, I know where you live!" There was nothing to do, I could not run. The dragon looked at me and he said, "Ha you made me laugh." I was very scared, I'm out of my hole. "Ok, I'll stay," I said. "But that's all." My brain thought not to be eaten. "But you can not eat me. We could arrange? " "I could do this arrangement," said the rigorous dragon. "But you have to catch another one for me. May be one of them? " The dragon shows me four people walking in the woods. "They are big and delicious the area.Catcher in one for me. " "No I will not!" I said, growing my hands. "Okay I TE eat! I'm very hungry! " And the dragon ate me.
En route à Sharmagon,
J’ai rencontré un grand dragon.
Pendant tout le temps que j’ai vu des dragons,
Il était le plus grand (et j’en ai vu beaucoup dans mon temps)!
Le dragon, il avait l’air très faim,
Comme s’il survivait sur juste du pain.
Ses yeux était rouges comme un pommier,
Et sortant de ses narines, des bouffées de fumée.
Quand je lui ai regardé,
J’ai essayé de me cacher.
Le dragon, avec sa grande bouche, a dit,
“Tu ne peux pas courir, je sais où tu vis!”
Il n’y avait rien à faire, je ne pouvais pas courir.
Le dragon m’a regardé et il a dit, “Ha tu me fis rire.”
J’avais très peur, je suis sorti de mon trou.
“Ok, je vais rester,” j’ai dit. “Mais c’est tout.”
Mon cerveau pensait à ne pas être mangé.
“Mais tu ne peux pas me manger. On pourrait s’arranger?”
“Je pourrais faire cet arrangement, “ dit le dragon rigoureux.
“Mais tu dois attraper un autre pour moi. Peut être un d’eux?”
Le dragon me montre quatre personnes qui marchaient dans le bois.
“Ils sont gros et ont l’aire delicieux. Attrape-en un pour moi.”
“Non je ne veux pas!” j’ai dit, en croissant mes mains.
“Ok. Je vais TE manger! J’ai très faim!”
Et le dragon m’a mangé.
Google translated version
Dragon En route to Sharmagon, I met a great dragon. During the time that I saw dragons,it was the largest (and I've seen a lot in my time!) The dragon, he the very hungry air, as if he survived on just bread. His eyes were as red as an apple tree, And out of his nostrils, puffs of smoke. When I looked at him, I tried to hide. The dragon, with his big mouth, said,"You can not run, I know where you live!" There was nothing to do, I could not run. The dragon looked at me and he said, "Ha you made me laugh." I was very scared, I'm out of my hole. "Ok, I'll stay," I said. "But that's all." My brain thought not to be eaten. "But you can not eat me. We could arrange? " "I could do this arrangement," said the rigorous dragon. "But you have to catch another one for me. May be one of them? " The dragon shows me four people walking in the woods. "They are big and delicious the area.Catcher in one for me. " "No I will not!" I said, growing my hands. "Okay I TE eat! I'm very hungry! " And the dragon ate me.
Wednesday, January 03, 1990
1990 Resolutions
The past year, I had lots of problems with my attitude. For 1990, I would like to redefine the meaning of 'A Big Change' in my attitude and in finishing my homework. My parents have been a little paranoid and annoying at times, and my anger didn't help. So i would like to change my anger to happiness. I'll try not to beat my brother to a pulp, and not to bug the kids at school. I'll try to oblige by the rules of the school and of my parents. So that's how I believe my personal life will change.
For my community, I won't litter (I've been doing it for the past 7 years!), and I'll try to lower my noise level (the neighbours complained). But the biggest change for my community in 1990 is to bring others into scouting. Scouting teaches self-respect, respect of country and community and responsibility. Scouts really help the environment, so my community will be a better place in the 90's.
Our country Canada is really suffering from problems. First there's the electricity shortage in Ontario. Ontario Hydro has already lowered the voltage by three volts. And if no one conserves energy, Ontario Hydro will have controlled blackouts. No power for 20 minutes per day. I have already started conserving power and I hope that more people start too. I'll also try to stop people from wasting power and to start conserving it.
The second, and one of the biggest problems in the whole world today is the pollution. Pollution takes four forms. The first, water pollution. Dangerous chemicals, garbage and waste are flowing into our lakes and rivers. Chippeowa's part of Lake Superior was closed for that reason. And it's our fault, not someone else's. So we have to deal with the problem. I'm going to try not to dump anything in our waters and I'll also try to stop others from doing it too.
Second is the everpopular garbage pollution. Most of us think it's plastics that are the problem. But really, it only takes up 5% of our garbage dumps. The real problem is paper, taking up 71% of our dump space. Everyone thought bio-degradable was a cure. But poisonous gases escape when the paper breaks down. So what if plastic lasts 300 - 1000 years. That's good compared to killing things. Telephone books are THE problem with paper. 16,970,000 pounds of them are dumped into our landfills every three years. A phone call costs more than it seems! I know it's hard to cut down on using paper, but we must. If we thought the problem was plastic, and we solved that problem with paper, but the real problem IS paper, then we're just making a bigger problem. I'm trying my best to recycle all things I can, but others must help.
Third is air pollution. The infamous CFC's wrecking out ozone. Carbon Dioxide is killing our plants and animals. Smoke (carbon dioxide) is rising into the atmosphere and blocking out the sun. WE caused the problem, now WE better fix it.
We shouldn't use cars as much as we do, when we have perfectly good legs. Some people even drive to a destination two blocks away! Now that's very human-like. But with normal human endurance, we should be able to walk seven miles per day. I walk lots of places, when I can, and I'm trying to get others into it too.
The last is noise pollution, the least of our pollution worries. But it does get people upset. Lots of people play loud music. So do I. But why bother others in the process? That's what headphones were invented for. Also, playing loud music in vehicles. Not only does it bother others, but it distracts the driver. I usually don't play my music loud. But, on the occasional celebration, when I do, I still don't bug the neighbors. I'm fighting against loud music, in fact against all pollution, but I can't do it alone. For 2001, I want Canada to be a better place.
The World is being destroyed by pollution, is plagued by war, and is losing life because of us. If we had never entered on planet Earth, it would be perfect. No pollution. No killing. No harming the ozone. No thought. No speech. No inventing. No worship. No cars. No T.V.s. No discoveries. No air travel. No sea travel. No humans. But the Earth and its creatures would survive.
I plan to take action against environmental destruction, war and killing. The 90's will be the time for decision. We can make the world, or break it. What kind of world do we want anyway?
For my community, I won't litter (I've been doing it for the past 7 years!), and I'll try to lower my noise level (the neighbours complained). But the biggest change for my community in 1990 is to bring others into scouting. Scouting teaches self-respect, respect of country and community and responsibility. Scouts really help the environment, so my community will be a better place in the 90's.
Our country Canada is really suffering from problems. First there's the electricity shortage in Ontario. Ontario Hydro has already lowered the voltage by three volts. And if no one conserves energy, Ontario Hydro will have controlled blackouts. No power for 20 minutes per day. I have already started conserving power and I hope that more people start too. I'll also try to stop people from wasting power and to start conserving it.
The second, and one of the biggest problems in the whole world today is the pollution. Pollution takes four forms. The first, water pollution. Dangerous chemicals, garbage and waste are flowing into our lakes and rivers. Chippeowa's part of Lake Superior was closed for that reason. And it's our fault, not someone else's. So we have to deal with the problem. I'm going to try not to dump anything in our waters and I'll also try to stop others from doing it too.
Second is the everpopular garbage pollution. Most of us think it's plastics that are the problem. But really, it only takes up 5% of our garbage dumps. The real problem is paper, taking up 71% of our dump space. Everyone thought bio-degradable was a cure. But poisonous gases escape when the paper breaks down. So what if plastic lasts 300 - 1000 years. That's good compared to killing things. Telephone books are THE problem with paper. 16,970,000 pounds of them are dumped into our landfills every three years. A phone call costs more than it seems! I know it's hard to cut down on using paper, but we must. If we thought the problem was plastic, and we solved that problem with paper, but the real problem IS paper, then we're just making a bigger problem. I'm trying my best to recycle all things I can, but others must help.
Third is air pollution. The infamous CFC's wrecking out ozone. Carbon Dioxide is killing our plants and animals. Smoke (carbon dioxide) is rising into the atmosphere and blocking out the sun. WE caused the problem, now WE better fix it.
We shouldn't use cars as much as we do, when we have perfectly good legs. Some people even drive to a destination two blocks away! Now that's very human-like. But with normal human endurance, we should be able to walk seven miles per day. I walk lots of places, when I can, and I'm trying to get others into it too.
The last is noise pollution, the least of our pollution worries. But it does get people upset. Lots of people play loud music. So do I. But why bother others in the process? That's what headphones were invented for. Also, playing loud music in vehicles. Not only does it bother others, but it distracts the driver. I usually don't play my music loud. But, on the occasional celebration, when I do, I still don't bug the neighbors. I'm fighting against loud music, in fact against all pollution, but I can't do it alone. For 2001, I want Canada to be a better place.
The World is being destroyed by pollution, is plagued by war, and is losing life because of us. If we had never entered on planet Earth, it would be perfect. No pollution. No killing. No harming the ozone. No thought. No speech. No inventing. No worship. No cars. No T.V.s. No discoveries. No air travel. No sea travel. No humans. But the Earth and its creatures would survive.
I plan to take action against environmental destruction, war and killing. The 90's will be the time for decision. We can make the world, or break it. What kind of world do we want anyway?
Sunday, November 19, 1989
Homecoming
A bright moon lit up the room as he stared out his bedroom window. Not unlike the light Dr. Merkus shone in his face while he was at North Cathedral Mental Institution. Just after the death of his mother, he had been released and was still under watch by that doctor.
He glanced at his watch. 12:22. He couldn’t fall asleep. The stay at the institution has haunted him for many months since his release.
The wooden chair he sat in grew extremely uncomfortable, so he moved toward his bed. The sheets seemed to be smiling at him, the way the wrinkles and creases were positioned. He carefully pushed back the covers and climbed into bed.
He was almost comforted by the warm sheets and was close to falling asleep when a tree branch hit his window with a loud crash. He jumped up and glanced at the window. A tree branch had broken the window latch and the two halves of the window were swung wide against the wall.
He got out of bed and quickly hopped towards the window, picking up the branch along the way and pitching it out the window. He closed the window and jumped back into bed, looking again at his watch.
1:00. His usual time to fall asleep. He tried to fall back asleep, expecting to do so in a minute or two. But then a ringing entered his ears. It seemed to ring 37 times, although it actually rang only 13 times. Wait. 13 times? No. This is another mind thing.
The old grandfather clock in the hallway outside his door ended its ghastly tune. He covered his ears and tried to fall asleep again.
~
Robert! Robert!
His head flew up. He eyed the room frantically in search of the body connected to the voice.
Robbie! ‘Member me, Robbie?
“Where are you?” He drew the sheets up into his face, still eying the room.
I’m in you. I am you.
“This is unreal. I’m dreaming. Leave me alone.” His voice shook with fear. His eyes stopped at the window, the same one the branch hit. He turned pale. His vision blurred and he started sweating profusely. He turned his whole body toward the image.
The image in the moon.
It was a monster, with small razor teeth that seemed to have been slightly dulled by cutting. Its eyes were nightmares, combined to form everything it sees.
“You’re in my head. I don’t believe in you!” he said, cowering in fear, as a dog to its abusive master.
Right, buddy bot. I am in your head. And you better believe in me, for I’m you’re very existence, your reason for living.
“No. Leave me alone!” He yelled the words, gritting his teeth.
The face disappeared.
This is just another hallucination, he thought and went to bed. After about ten minutes, he grew hungry and decided to go down to the kitchen and fix himself a sandwich.
He walked to the door and opened it. Thinking that the hallway floor would be in front of him, he stepped out. But there was no floor. His foot fell forward and the rest of his body with it.
He was falling. His hands were flying about over his head, he reached out as if to grab something, but nothing was there. He finally hit what seemed to be cold glass. His head never stopped spinning. Then everything went black...
~
When he awakened, he found himself sitting in front of an old grandfather clock. Exactly like the one in his hallway. He looked around. No one was near, but voices filled his ears, all calling his name.
The place he was in was filled with floating multicolour bubbles and grey and black clouds. When he first noticed the clouds, he thought of summer storms from his past. What fun dancing in the rain...
His mind drifted with the clouds.
He was brought out of his trance by a burning smell drifting near his nose. He looked all around and stopped at the clock. A small flame was burning beside the number 12. It then disappeared. He noticed it burned a ‘thirteen’; the big hand pointed at the 12 and the small toward the thirteen.
As he wiped sweat off his forehead, he noticed that his watch read 13:00:00. The date read 00/00/00.
No, this is madness, he thought.
Exactly, he heard a voice behind him say. He spun around and stepped backwards in one quick, smooth motion.
“No, I don’t believe in you!” he shrieked, staring at the same face that haunted him in his bedroom. But this time the face was connected to a body. Muscular, but slender at the same time, and about a head over a man. Tan, leathery skin was stretched over its bony frame. Its hands were clenched in fists, concealing long, sharp fingernails.
“Yes you do Robbie boy. You might as well just admit it. It would make things a lot easier for the both of us.” It spoke without moving its lips.
“Leave me alone!” He started to run in the opposite way, but just in front of him loomed the same horrible creature. He stopped dead.
“I’ll never leave you.” it’s cold, shrieking voice pounded inside Rob’s skull. It held out a slender, bony hand. “Why don’t you take my hand. I’ll lead you out of here.”
Without saying a thing he turned to run. He didn’t know how long he was running; time seemed to be swallowed to be swallowed by this plane. But soon he encountered a door. He quickly opened it and stepped through.
The room was very familiar. Sort of like the bedroom he had as a kid. He felt warm there. Ilke being cradled in a mother’s arms. He saw a bed near the door.
Sleep.
Suddenly he had the urge to climb into that nice, warm bed and sleep. Sleep his thoughts and cares away. Which he did.
Sleep.
~
“Damn kid. I should never have had you.”
He awoke staring into the face of a woman. Woman? “Mother!” He was about to hug her when she slapped his face.
“You made him leave you little bastard!” She slapped him again and again, until his cheek reddened and his nose started to bleed.
“Mom. No. Please!” He dodged her left hand only to be hit by her right. That final hit knocked him onto the floor. Tears ran down and burned the buts on his cheeks.
“Stop crying!” She picked up a small glass figurine that his father had given to him on his first birthday and threw it at him. It bounced off his shoulder and smashed on the wall. “If you don’t stop crying...” She broke into tears and collapsed onto the floor.
Robert stared at her through teared and bloody eyes, then towards the shatterd figurine. Both were broken.
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
~
“Daddy! You’re home!”
“Bob. Where you a bad boy while I was gone?”
“No. I was good, Dad. Honest!”
“Kidding. I’m kidding. I missed you!”
~
“Bob! I’m home! Melissa, are you here?”
White.
“Is anybody here – Oh! Melissa.”
White.
“Where’s Rob?”
“He’s in his room. He’s been there the past few days.”
White.
He glanced at his watch. 12:22. He couldn’t fall asleep. The stay at the institution has haunted him for many months since his release.
The wooden chair he sat in grew extremely uncomfortable, so he moved toward his bed. The sheets seemed to be smiling at him, the way the wrinkles and creases were positioned. He carefully pushed back the covers and climbed into bed.
He was almost comforted by the warm sheets and was close to falling asleep when a tree branch hit his window with a loud crash. He jumped up and glanced at the window. A tree branch had broken the window latch and the two halves of the window were swung wide against the wall.
He got out of bed and quickly hopped towards the window, picking up the branch along the way and pitching it out the window. He closed the window and jumped back into bed, looking again at his watch.
1:00. His usual time to fall asleep. He tried to fall back asleep, expecting to do so in a minute or two. But then a ringing entered his ears. It seemed to ring 37 times, although it actually rang only 13 times. Wait. 13 times? No. This is another mind thing.
The old grandfather clock in the hallway outside his door ended its ghastly tune. He covered his ears and tried to fall asleep again.
~
Robert! Robert!
His head flew up. He eyed the room frantically in search of the body connected to the voice.
Robbie! ‘Member me, Robbie?
“Where are you?” He drew the sheets up into his face, still eying the room.
I’m in you. I am you.
“This is unreal. I’m dreaming. Leave me alone.” His voice shook with fear. His eyes stopped at the window, the same one the branch hit. He turned pale. His vision blurred and he started sweating profusely. He turned his whole body toward the image.
The image in the moon.
It was a monster, with small razor teeth that seemed to have been slightly dulled by cutting. Its eyes were nightmares, combined to form everything it sees.
“You’re in my head. I don’t believe in you!” he said, cowering in fear, as a dog to its abusive master.
Right, buddy bot. I am in your head. And you better believe in me, for I’m you’re very existence, your reason for living.
“No. Leave me alone!” He yelled the words, gritting his teeth.
The face disappeared.
This is just another hallucination, he thought and went to bed. After about ten minutes, he grew hungry and decided to go down to the kitchen and fix himself a sandwich.
He walked to the door and opened it. Thinking that the hallway floor would be in front of him, he stepped out. But there was no floor. His foot fell forward and the rest of his body with it.
He was falling. His hands were flying about over his head, he reached out as if to grab something, but nothing was there. He finally hit what seemed to be cold glass. His head never stopped spinning. Then everything went black...
~
When he awakened, he found himself sitting in front of an old grandfather clock. Exactly like the one in his hallway. He looked around. No one was near, but voices filled his ears, all calling his name.
The place he was in was filled with floating multicolour bubbles and grey and black clouds. When he first noticed the clouds, he thought of summer storms from his past. What fun dancing in the rain...
His mind drifted with the clouds.
He was brought out of his trance by a burning smell drifting near his nose. He looked all around and stopped at the clock. A small flame was burning beside the number 12. It then disappeared. He noticed it burned a ‘thirteen’; the big hand pointed at the 12 and the small toward the thirteen.
As he wiped sweat off his forehead, he noticed that his watch read 13:00:00. The date read 00/00/00.
No, this is madness, he thought.
Exactly, he heard a voice behind him say. He spun around and stepped backwards in one quick, smooth motion.
“No, I don’t believe in you!” he shrieked, staring at the same face that haunted him in his bedroom. But this time the face was connected to a body. Muscular, but slender at the same time, and about a head over a man. Tan, leathery skin was stretched over its bony frame. Its hands were clenched in fists, concealing long, sharp fingernails.
“Yes you do Robbie boy. You might as well just admit it. It would make things a lot easier for the both of us.” It spoke without moving its lips.
“Leave me alone!” He started to run in the opposite way, but just in front of him loomed the same horrible creature. He stopped dead.
“I’ll never leave you.” it’s cold, shrieking voice pounded inside Rob’s skull. It held out a slender, bony hand. “Why don’t you take my hand. I’ll lead you out of here.”
Without saying a thing he turned to run. He didn’t know how long he was running; time seemed to be swallowed to be swallowed by this plane. But soon he encountered a door. He quickly opened it and stepped through.
The room was very familiar. Sort of like the bedroom he had as a kid. He felt warm there. Ilke being cradled in a mother’s arms. He saw a bed near the door.
Sleep.
Suddenly he had the urge to climb into that nice, warm bed and sleep. Sleep his thoughts and cares away. Which he did.
Sleep.
~
“Damn kid. I should never have had you.”
He awoke staring into the face of a woman. Woman? “Mother!” He was about to hug her when she slapped his face.
“You made him leave you little bastard!” She slapped him again and again, until his cheek reddened and his nose started to bleed.
“Mom. No. Please!” He dodged her left hand only to be hit by her right. That final hit knocked him onto the floor. Tears ran down and burned the buts on his cheeks.
“Stop crying!” She picked up a small glass figurine that his father had given to him on his first birthday and threw it at him. It bounced off his shoulder and smashed on the wall. “If you don’t stop crying...” She broke into tears and collapsed onto the floor.
Robert stared at her through teared and bloody eyes, then towards the shatterd figurine. Both were broken.
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
~
“Daddy! You’re home!”
“Bob. Where you a bad boy while I was gone?”
“No. I was good, Dad. Honest!”
“Kidding. I’m kidding. I missed you!”
~
“Bob! I’m home! Melissa, are you here?”
White.
“Is anybody here – Oh! Melissa.”
White.
“Where’s Rob?”
“He’s in his room. He’s been there the past few days.”
White.
Tuesday, December 27, 1988
Tremors in the Night (1988-89)
“Now let’s play Pet Sematary. Load it into the Beta.”
A crowd of seven people surrounded the 28" T.V. Bruce Hewat, Andrew Gibbon, Derek Shantz, Carson Cook, Mark Hayashi, Ryan Oryniak and Quintin Hewlett were at a birthday party.
“We’ll save that for later.” Quint said. “Now let’s...”
His voice was cut dead by a loud rumbling coming from down the street. A sudden burst of light bled through the window in multicoloured streams, followed by a second blinding light and a gale wind. Three windows burst apart; the glass spraying the teens, ripped their clothes, punctured their skin, and blinded them. The bright, white light grew brighter and brighter. Then suddenly exploded.
“What the heck happened?” Derek asked as he dusted himself off.
“Earthquake!” Bruce exclaimed.
“No. It’s the spiritual entering of the Devil onto the Earth.” Mark said matter-of-factly.
“Shut up, Mark!” the group yelled.
“C’mon! Let’s see what happened!” Quint ran for the door followed by six people, the glass falling off them as they ran. Outside, the night was cold. She sank her cold teeth into her children.
“Geez, it’s cold out here!” Ryan protested. He tried to warm himself by running on the spot.
“You have good fun on your birthdays, don’t you?” Carson asked. Quint looked down the street towards the hospital, and noticed the house on the corner was well lit. he started running towards the black house.
“Hey! Where you goin’?” Derek asked.
“Come on! Come with me.” Quint continued toward the house. His guests followed.
The house was pitch black, except for the candle-lit windows. All was in perfect order, save for the garden. The plants had died, the path was twisted and torn, when once it was so tidy. The room on the third floor had no lights on, all the windows were broken and there was a man-sized hole in the west wall. The porch had holes in the floor, boards splintered and cracked, and the door was kicked in.
“What happened to this house? Derek and Andrew asked simultaneously.
“Earthquake!” Bruce exclaimed.
“Don’t think so, Bruce. A guy named Jack Spence lived there. He was a grandchild of the McKellars and a C.I.A. agent. He used to own half of the homes on this block. But he was murdered on November 27th of ‘82. Some say his ghost did the damage to the house and Jack was killed earlier than the 27th. But it was the murderer who did it. He was never found.”
“Do you think Spence’s ghost caused the rumbling and the light?” Andrew asked, intent of finding a ghost.
“No, it was the Devil.” Mark responded.
“Shut up, Mark!” Derek and Carson yelled.
Bruce walked up to the door. “Let’s go in,” he said.
“No!”
“Not me!”
“Don’t think so!”
The group started arguing. “Shut up! Either we enter or we don’t. Majority rules. Now who wants to enter?” Andrew said, leader-like. Four hands shot up. “Let’s go!”
The door creaked as Bruce and Ryan opened it. “What happened here?” Bruce asked. Chairs were knocked over, tables splintered, bottles broken and walls cracked.
“Don’t break anything” Ryan said.
“Not much chance of that. Everything’s already busted.” Carson said.
“To the stairs!” Bruce said as he did the dog-point.
“Shut up, Bruce. You’re so dumb!” Andrew said angrily.
“Yeah, c’mon you little...”
“Bruce!” Quint said.
The gang headed toward the stairs. They plodded up the stairs, the oak steps creaking with each pace. When they reached the top of the stairs, they were greeted by a big oak door.
“Who would use a door like that?” Mark asked.
“Good for keeping murderers away.” Quint answered.
Bruce bashed the door with his shoulder and it flew open. He cackled. “Shut up, Bruce!” the group shouted. They filed into the room.
“Holy. Who is that?”
A small man was huddled near a corner writing on a piece of paper. He was dressed all inblack, and his facial expressions were cold as the room he was in.
“Mr. Spence. Or his ghost,” Quint answered. He was just as scared as the rest of the group.
“I’ll never steal again. I promise.” Mr. Spence talked without moving his lips.
“Too late to plea!” A well-built muscular man stood by the window. It seemed as though he had just entered from the outside. He was shadowed and could not be seen.
“No please! I didn’t do anything!” Mr. Spence pleaded as the big man stalked forward, his huge hands clenched in fists.
“What a show!” Bruce said.
“C’mon, stop it. This is probably how it happened,” Quint said. “The police know not what happened.”
“Could we get on the news?” Mark asked.
“If we prove this is right.” Derek answered.
The excitement of the group built up as the big warrior picked up a chair and launched it at his victim. Mr. Spence dodged the shot, and the chair burst through the west wall. “Now you die!” the big assassin charged Mr. Spence and pushed him out through the hole. Mr. Spence screamed and suddenly stopped as he hit the ground with a thud.
A loud rumbling came from the heart of the house, and again a bright light blinded the group. “Not again!” Ryan shouted. The light exploded with a bang.
~
“I’ll never steal again. I promise.”
“Oh! My head.” Quint said as he stood up.
“Geez, not again,” Ryan said, angrily.
“Oh lord that hurt!” Andrew spoke with a touch of anger in his voice. He rubbed his arm. Carson and Bruce stood up and rubbed their sore muscles.
“Too late to plea!”
“We have to stop him, or this could go on for ever.” Mark said as he looked toward the spirit. He stood up. Mark’s hair was pure white with plaster dust.
“I’ll stop it!” Andrew said as he marched forward.
“Andrew, no!” The gang yelled as they reached to grab him, but he shooed their hands away.
“No darn ghost is going to stop this party.” He marched up to the big spectre and grabbed his arm firmly. Andrew finally saw the features of the assassin’s face. His nose was rounded perfectly at the end, and his mouth was curled in a wicked smile.
His smile left as he looked down at the small teen who held his arm so firmly. “Puny wimp!” the assassin said as he lifted Andrew off the ground.
“NO!” Carson yelled as he tried to run toward the big man. But his friends held him back.
“We can’t help him! No one can now! We aren’t superpowered. We’ll die!” Quint protested. The group held Carson back until he finally gave up.
“Um, please could you put me down? I have some homework to do.” Andrew asked, his arms tight on the spectre’s hands.
“You want down?” the spirit asked, his eyebrows poised questioningly. “Then go down!” He raised Andrew even higher and threw his arms forward.
Andrew flew through the wall and fell downward. “Oh sh–“ He screamed until he landed on a spiked flagpole. The bronze maple-leaf punctured his little chest. The leaf was covered in blood.
“NO!” the group cried, their voices echoing through the oak halls of the house.
“Thank you.” Mr. Spence’s spirit said. A bright light suddenly engulfed him, then he disappeared. The assassin then jumped through the window and landed on the second floor roof of the house, then disappeared.
“Darnit! Andrew was so nice.” Derek said, as tears fell from his eyes. “Stupid party. Andrew dies!”
The group sniffled for a moment, then Quint spoke up. “We mustn’t worry! We’re trapped in this house until we kill that spirit. He’s trapped too. Mr. Spence isn’t, at least we saved him!”
“We’re not the Ghostbusters! This won’t be easy.” Mark said.
“I could make a ghost trap, if Spence has the parts.” Quint said.
“Let’s do it!” the team yelled.
~
“Holy! This dude loves weapons!” Bruce said.
Racked up on all four walls of the second floor den, was a ton of guns and explosives. Bruce grabbed the first SAR Galil assault rifle and a .45 Magnum that he could see. Quint headed straight for Spence’s electronics lab. It took half an hour to complete their arsenal.
Bruce was covered in bullet belts. His two guns were at his sides. Quint and Mark had finished building their ghost trap. Derek and Carson were planning the attack. Ryan was on guard for the ghost.
“Let’s go kick butt!” Bruce started cackling again.
“Shut up, Bruce” the group said angrily. They marched off in two groups of three in search of the ghost. Carson, Derek and Mark took the first floor and the basement. Quint, Ryan and Bruce took the second and third floors.
~
“Cars? You there Cars? Carson!” Derek searched the room for his friend. A crash rang in Derek’s ears. “Is that you, Cars?” He pulled out his sub-machinegun. “No more games, come on out of there.” He tensed, and almost pulled the trigger of the 9mm Uzi.
Racing toward Derek in a blind fury, the spirit roared. Derek’s lithe body shivered as he looked up toward the spirit. His fear turned to anger.
“You killed my friend, you son of a –“ He fired his gun at the spirit. The bullets passed right through the spectre, but did blow holes in it. Or so he thought. Blood raced through Derek’s body, as through the spirit’s wounds.
The spirit backed off, but then charged at the little teenager that hurt him so. Derek fired again, this time with no effect; he missed the target twice. The spectre roared with anger and continued toward his enemy.
Derek tried to duck but the spirit slashed his throat with his sharp claws. Derek’s limp body fell to the ground, blood spurting out the large wound.
~
Carson could feel the pounding of his heart. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. The Ingram Model-10 he carried was getting heavy.
“Funky party this is. Geez it’s cold in here.” Carson did not know if the cold was a spirit or from outside. A small breeze blew his hair around. He gazed at a west facing window. Its curtains fluttered in the wind. His body shivered.
I wish Jeff were here. Nice of him to date his girlfriend, Carson thought.
~
“Bullets won’t hurt this thing unless it’s an effeetamo. This trap is designed to catch this ghost. Then we’ll be free! Mark helped me with the design.” Quint showed his invention to his two partners. “It only works once. Mr. Spence had no more D-cells. If we miss...it’s over! Bruce, if you break the device, you’re dead!”
“Funky! But will it work?” Ryan asked.
“I hope so,” Quint said.
~
Mark walked quietly through the basement. He held a Model 3000 Smith and Wesson shotgun. His grandmother had taught him basic weaponry; he knew how to fire a 3000.
I’ll find that mutha! I’ll find that mutha! he kept telling himself.
A small cup fell over and landed on the floor with a crash. Mark spun around and fired toward the noise, all in one clean motion. He hit a wooden crate and it splintered, then blew to pieces. Mark quickly reloaded. His pockets bulged with bullet cartriges.
“Stupid gun,” Mark said. “I wish I never agreed to take the basement.”
The spirit raced around the room unseen, bumping bottles and containers on the floor. Mark spun around and pointed his gun at each sound. Suddenly, the spirit raced toward his next enemy.
“You stopped y job! Now you’ll pay!” The spirit dove into Mark’s body, his claws protruded outward. The sharp bone ripped through the little teen’s flesh. He screamed until the claws punctured his lungs. His body tore in hald and fell to the ground, his gun falling with him. Blood gushed out of the large holes, splashing a book lying in the corner.
~
Carson searched the dining room for the spirit.
“Darn thing won’t show up,” he said. “I’m wasting my time.”
He lifted a plastic cover off a chair. He sighed.
~
“Don’t bump the lamp!” Quint said as he, Ryan and Bruce marched the hallways of the second floor. Bruce’s arm tapped the brass lamp, and it fell to the wooden floor with a bang.
“Geez, Bruce! I said don’t touch it!” Quint spoke, angrily.
“But I didn’t touch it!” Bruce protested.
“Oh be quiet, Bruce.” Ryan said, his eyes filled with laughter.
Screams rang in the group’s ears. “That was from downstairs. C’mon!” Ryan spoke. He dragged Bruce and Quint through the hallway and down the stairs to the basement. As they reached the bottom of the basement stairs, they saw the spirit race away from the dead body of Mark.
“After it!” Bruce yelled. He sped off toward his enemy, followed closely by Ryan.
Quint walked up to Mark’s body and noticed a leather book lying in the corner. The blood on its red bindings was still fresh. Quint picked up the thick book and read the title: The Useful Book of Spiritual Entities.
“Who would write something like this?” he said to himself. He flipped through the pages and stopped at a sub-titled named Effreetamos: The Living Dead. Quintin started reading.
~
“Get that thing!”
Bruce and Ryan ran through the rooms of the large basement chasing the spirit ahead of them. The spirit stopped and turned around. “Now you die!” it said. The spirit charged the two.
Bruce raised his SAR and fired at the spirit. All the bullets tore though its body, and the spirit was blown backwards through a window. But its curse did not allow it to leave. It bounced off a forcefield and smashed into a table.
“I am ruler! I am BRUCEBO!” Bruce yelled as he raised his gun in the air.
“Keep shooting, Bruce!” Ryan yelled as he fired at the spirit. His gun jammed. “Darn gun!” he yelled as he threw it on the ground. He pulled out his M-01 and Uzi 9mm and fired at the spirit. The spectre rolled around, screaming, bullets entering his body.
Bruce stopped. “No bullets left.” he said. Then he threw his SAR at the spectre.
“I didn’t run out. Funky guns have lots of bullets.” Ryan said, still firing. Then he ran out of ammo too. “Crud! These funky guns are dead!” Ryan dropped them on the ground.
The spirit got up, slowly. “Darn you, mortals! You shall suffer!” It charged the two, arms in a V position. His claws protruded outwards. The two humans tried to dodge the blow, but the spirit’s sharp claws ripped through their arms. They screamed out in pain, blood rushing down their arms, washing off the dirt.
The spirit turned around and charged the two.
“IMSH NAT MINEJEK BKORSHAB”
The spirit suddenly stopped.
Bruce looked toward the sound. He saw a figure standing near a doorway. “Quint!” he yelled.
Quint ran out under the spirit and dropped a small device on the ground. As he did, three old looking papers fell out of his pocket. Bruce picked them up. “Dropped something?” he asked.
“Thanks” Quint said as he grabbed the papers and started running from the stunned spirit. The two huddled in a corner near Ryan, who was lying on the floor in great pain. The spirit still held its place, frozen in time.
“How did you do that?” Bruce asked as he stared at the spirit.
“Tell ya in a minute,” Quint replied. He pulled a small remote from his pocket. “Watch this!” he pressed down on a red button. White light poured out of the ghost trap, then disappeared. “Darn! Didn’t work!” Quint said. “Have to rely on the papers.” He pulled three papers from his pocket.
The spirit awoke from the stun spell and continued his charge toward the humans.
Quint started reading. “MINATH ZINK QUEAZYN BNJKOGW! QUI ZITH YIATH JBORK!”
Just before the spirit hit the frightened teens, a vortex appeared behind it. It howled as it was drawn back by the powerful wind. It flew into the centre of the whirling mass. Then, as quickly as it came, the vortex disappeared, swallowing the spirit.
“Wahoo! It worked!” Quint yelled.
Bruce and Quint jumped up and rejoiced. They ran over to where Ryan lay.
“Ohmygosh! This reallyhurtsitreallydoes!” Ryan spoke fast because of pain and excitement.
“Slow down. We won!” Bruce said.
“Let’s leave. Ya, you too,” Quint said as Ryan moaned. Quint and Bruce picked Ryan up in their arms and carried him to the door.
“Hey. Anyone know where Cars is?”
“I bet he’s sleeping!”
~
Carson patrolled the hallways of the second floor, searching for his friends.
“They probably made this up!”
He entered a book-filled den, and sat on a wooden chair in the corner.
“I’ll just wait here for them.”
A crowd of seven people surrounded the 28" T.V. Bruce Hewat, Andrew Gibbon, Derek Shantz, Carson Cook, Mark Hayashi, Ryan Oryniak and Quintin Hewlett were at a birthday party.
“We’ll save that for later.” Quint said. “Now let’s...”
His voice was cut dead by a loud rumbling coming from down the street. A sudden burst of light bled through the window in multicoloured streams, followed by a second blinding light and a gale wind. Three windows burst apart; the glass spraying the teens, ripped their clothes, punctured their skin, and blinded them. The bright, white light grew brighter and brighter. Then suddenly exploded.
“What the heck happened?” Derek asked as he dusted himself off.
“Earthquake!” Bruce exclaimed.
“No. It’s the spiritual entering of the Devil onto the Earth.” Mark said matter-of-factly.
“Shut up, Mark!” the group yelled.
“C’mon! Let’s see what happened!” Quint ran for the door followed by six people, the glass falling off them as they ran. Outside, the night was cold. She sank her cold teeth into her children.
“Geez, it’s cold out here!” Ryan protested. He tried to warm himself by running on the spot.
“You have good fun on your birthdays, don’t you?” Carson asked. Quint looked down the street towards the hospital, and noticed the house on the corner was well lit. he started running towards the black house.
“Hey! Where you goin’?” Derek asked.
“Come on! Come with me.” Quint continued toward the house. His guests followed.
The house was pitch black, except for the candle-lit windows. All was in perfect order, save for the garden. The plants had died, the path was twisted and torn, when once it was so tidy. The room on the third floor had no lights on, all the windows were broken and there was a man-sized hole in the west wall. The porch had holes in the floor, boards splintered and cracked, and the door was kicked in.
“What happened to this house? Derek and Andrew asked simultaneously.
“Earthquake!” Bruce exclaimed.
“Don’t think so, Bruce. A guy named Jack Spence lived there. He was a grandchild of the McKellars and a C.I.A. agent. He used to own half of the homes on this block. But he was murdered on November 27th of ‘82. Some say his ghost did the damage to the house and Jack was killed earlier than the 27th. But it was the murderer who did it. He was never found.”
“Do you think Spence’s ghost caused the rumbling and the light?” Andrew asked, intent of finding a ghost.
“No, it was the Devil.” Mark responded.
“Shut up, Mark!” Derek and Carson yelled.
Bruce walked up to the door. “Let’s go in,” he said.
“No!”
“Not me!”
“Don’t think so!”
The group started arguing. “Shut up! Either we enter or we don’t. Majority rules. Now who wants to enter?” Andrew said, leader-like. Four hands shot up. “Let’s go!”
The door creaked as Bruce and Ryan opened it. “What happened here?” Bruce asked. Chairs were knocked over, tables splintered, bottles broken and walls cracked.
“Don’t break anything” Ryan said.
“Not much chance of that. Everything’s already busted.” Carson said.
“To the stairs!” Bruce said as he did the dog-point.
“Shut up, Bruce. You’re so dumb!” Andrew said angrily.
“Yeah, c’mon you little...”
“Bruce!” Quint said.
The gang headed toward the stairs. They plodded up the stairs, the oak steps creaking with each pace. When they reached the top of the stairs, they were greeted by a big oak door.
“Who would use a door like that?” Mark asked.
“Good for keeping murderers away.” Quint answered.
Bruce bashed the door with his shoulder and it flew open. He cackled. “Shut up, Bruce!” the group shouted. They filed into the room.
“Holy. Who is that?”
A small man was huddled near a corner writing on a piece of paper. He was dressed all inblack, and his facial expressions were cold as the room he was in.
“Mr. Spence. Or his ghost,” Quint answered. He was just as scared as the rest of the group.
“I’ll never steal again. I promise.” Mr. Spence talked without moving his lips.
“Too late to plea!” A well-built muscular man stood by the window. It seemed as though he had just entered from the outside. He was shadowed and could not be seen.
“No please! I didn’t do anything!” Mr. Spence pleaded as the big man stalked forward, his huge hands clenched in fists.
“What a show!” Bruce said.
“C’mon, stop it. This is probably how it happened,” Quint said. “The police know not what happened.”
“Could we get on the news?” Mark asked.
“If we prove this is right.” Derek answered.
The excitement of the group built up as the big warrior picked up a chair and launched it at his victim. Mr. Spence dodged the shot, and the chair burst through the west wall. “Now you die!” the big assassin charged Mr. Spence and pushed him out through the hole. Mr. Spence screamed and suddenly stopped as he hit the ground with a thud.
A loud rumbling came from the heart of the house, and again a bright light blinded the group. “Not again!” Ryan shouted. The light exploded with a bang.
~
“I’ll never steal again. I promise.”
“Oh! My head.” Quint said as he stood up.
“Geez, not again,” Ryan said, angrily.
“Oh lord that hurt!” Andrew spoke with a touch of anger in his voice. He rubbed his arm. Carson and Bruce stood up and rubbed their sore muscles.
“Too late to plea!”
“We have to stop him, or this could go on for ever.” Mark said as he looked toward the spirit. He stood up. Mark’s hair was pure white with plaster dust.
“I’ll stop it!” Andrew said as he marched forward.
“Andrew, no!” The gang yelled as they reached to grab him, but he shooed their hands away.
“No darn ghost is going to stop this party.” He marched up to the big spectre and grabbed his arm firmly. Andrew finally saw the features of the assassin’s face. His nose was rounded perfectly at the end, and his mouth was curled in a wicked smile.
His smile left as he looked down at the small teen who held his arm so firmly. “Puny wimp!” the assassin said as he lifted Andrew off the ground.
“NO!” Carson yelled as he tried to run toward the big man. But his friends held him back.
“We can’t help him! No one can now! We aren’t superpowered. We’ll die!” Quint protested. The group held Carson back until he finally gave up.
“Um, please could you put me down? I have some homework to do.” Andrew asked, his arms tight on the spectre’s hands.
“You want down?” the spirit asked, his eyebrows poised questioningly. “Then go down!” He raised Andrew even higher and threw his arms forward.
Andrew flew through the wall and fell downward. “Oh sh–“ He screamed until he landed on a spiked flagpole. The bronze maple-leaf punctured his little chest. The leaf was covered in blood.
“NO!” the group cried, their voices echoing through the oak halls of the house.
“Thank you.” Mr. Spence’s spirit said. A bright light suddenly engulfed him, then he disappeared. The assassin then jumped through the window and landed on the second floor roof of the house, then disappeared.
“Darnit! Andrew was so nice.” Derek said, as tears fell from his eyes. “Stupid party. Andrew dies!”
The group sniffled for a moment, then Quint spoke up. “We mustn’t worry! We’re trapped in this house until we kill that spirit. He’s trapped too. Mr. Spence isn’t, at least we saved him!”
“We’re not the Ghostbusters! This won’t be easy.” Mark said.
“I could make a ghost trap, if Spence has the parts.” Quint said.
“Let’s do it!” the team yelled.
~
“Holy! This dude loves weapons!” Bruce said.
Racked up on all four walls of the second floor den, was a ton of guns and explosives. Bruce grabbed the first SAR Galil assault rifle and a .45 Magnum that he could see. Quint headed straight for Spence’s electronics lab. It took half an hour to complete their arsenal.
Bruce was covered in bullet belts. His two guns were at his sides. Quint and Mark had finished building their ghost trap. Derek and Carson were planning the attack. Ryan was on guard for the ghost.
“Let’s go kick butt!” Bruce started cackling again.
“Shut up, Bruce” the group said angrily. They marched off in two groups of three in search of the ghost. Carson, Derek and Mark took the first floor and the basement. Quint, Ryan and Bruce took the second and third floors.
~
“Cars? You there Cars? Carson!” Derek searched the room for his friend. A crash rang in Derek’s ears. “Is that you, Cars?” He pulled out his sub-machinegun. “No more games, come on out of there.” He tensed, and almost pulled the trigger of the 9mm Uzi.
Racing toward Derek in a blind fury, the spirit roared. Derek’s lithe body shivered as he looked up toward the spirit. His fear turned to anger.
“You killed my friend, you son of a –“ He fired his gun at the spirit. The bullets passed right through the spectre, but did blow holes in it. Or so he thought. Blood raced through Derek’s body, as through the spirit’s wounds.
The spirit backed off, but then charged at the little teenager that hurt him so. Derek fired again, this time with no effect; he missed the target twice. The spectre roared with anger and continued toward his enemy.
Derek tried to duck but the spirit slashed his throat with his sharp claws. Derek’s limp body fell to the ground, blood spurting out the large wound.
~
Carson could feel the pounding of his heart. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. The Ingram Model-10 he carried was getting heavy.
“Funky party this is. Geez it’s cold in here.” Carson did not know if the cold was a spirit or from outside. A small breeze blew his hair around. He gazed at a west facing window. Its curtains fluttered in the wind. His body shivered.
I wish Jeff were here. Nice of him to date his girlfriend, Carson thought.
~
“Bullets won’t hurt this thing unless it’s an effeetamo. This trap is designed to catch this ghost. Then we’ll be free! Mark helped me with the design.” Quint showed his invention to his two partners. “It only works once. Mr. Spence had no more D-cells. If we miss...it’s over! Bruce, if you break the device, you’re dead!”
“Funky! But will it work?” Ryan asked.
“I hope so,” Quint said.
~
Mark walked quietly through the basement. He held a Model 3000 Smith and Wesson shotgun. His grandmother had taught him basic weaponry; he knew how to fire a 3000.
I’ll find that mutha! I’ll find that mutha! he kept telling himself.
A small cup fell over and landed on the floor with a crash. Mark spun around and fired toward the noise, all in one clean motion. He hit a wooden crate and it splintered, then blew to pieces. Mark quickly reloaded. His pockets bulged with bullet cartriges.
“Stupid gun,” Mark said. “I wish I never agreed to take the basement.”
The spirit raced around the room unseen, bumping bottles and containers on the floor. Mark spun around and pointed his gun at each sound. Suddenly, the spirit raced toward his next enemy.
“You stopped y job! Now you’ll pay!” The spirit dove into Mark’s body, his claws protruded outward. The sharp bone ripped through the little teen’s flesh. He screamed until the claws punctured his lungs. His body tore in hald and fell to the ground, his gun falling with him. Blood gushed out of the large holes, splashing a book lying in the corner.
~
Carson searched the dining room for the spirit.
“Darn thing won’t show up,” he said. “I’m wasting my time.”
He lifted a plastic cover off a chair. He sighed.
~
“Don’t bump the lamp!” Quint said as he, Ryan and Bruce marched the hallways of the second floor. Bruce’s arm tapped the brass lamp, and it fell to the wooden floor with a bang.
“Geez, Bruce! I said don’t touch it!” Quint spoke, angrily.
“But I didn’t touch it!” Bruce protested.
“Oh be quiet, Bruce.” Ryan said, his eyes filled with laughter.
Screams rang in the group’s ears. “That was from downstairs. C’mon!” Ryan spoke. He dragged Bruce and Quint through the hallway and down the stairs to the basement. As they reached the bottom of the basement stairs, they saw the spirit race away from the dead body of Mark.
“After it!” Bruce yelled. He sped off toward his enemy, followed closely by Ryan.
Quint walked up to Mark’s body and noticed a leather book lying in the corner. The blood on its red bindings was still fresh. Quint picked up the thick book and read the title: The Useful Book of Spiritual Entities.
“Who would write something like this?” he said to himself. He flipped through the pages and stopped at a sub-titled named Effreetamos: The Living Dead. Quintin started reading.
~
“Get that thing!”
Bruce and Ryan ran through the rooms of the large basement chasing the spirit ahead of them. The spirit stopped and turned around. “Now you die!” it said. The spirit charged the two.
Bruce raised his SAR and fired at the spirit. All the bullets tore though its body, and the spirit was blown backwards through a window. But its curse did not allow it to leave. It bounced off a forcefield and smashed into a table.
“I am ruler! I am BRUCEBO!” Bruce yelled as he raised his gun in the air.
“Keep shooting, Bruce!” Ryan yelled as he fired at the spirit. His gun jammed. “Darn gun!” he yelled as he threw it on the ground. He pulled out his M-01 and Uzi 9mm and fired at the spirit. The spectre rolled around, screaming, bullets entering his body.
Bruce stopped. “No bullets left.” he said. Then he threw his SAR at the spectre.
“I didn’t run out. Funky guns have lots of bullets.” Ryan said, still firing. Then he ran out of ammo too. “Crud! These funky guns are dead!” Ryan dropped them on the ground.
The spirit got up, slowly. “Darn you, mortals! You shall suffer!” It charged the two, arms in a V position. His claws protruded outwards. The two humans tried to dodge the blow, but the spirit’s sharp claws ripped through their arms. They screamed out in pain, blood rushing down their arms, washing off the dirt.
The spirit turned around and charged the two.
“IMSH NAT MINEJEK BKORSHAB”
The spirit suddenly stopped.
Bruce looked toward the sound. He saw a figure standing near a doorway. “Quint!” he yelled.
Quint ran out under the spirit and dropped a small device on the ground. As he did, three old looking papers fell out of his pocket. Bruce picked them up. “Dropped something?” he asked.
“Thanks” Quint said as he grabbed the papers and started running from the stunned spirit. The two huddled in a corner near Ryan, who was lying on the floor in great pain. The spirit still held its place, frozen in time.
“How did you do that?” Bruce asked as he stared at the spirit.
“Tell ya in a minute,” Quint replied. He pulled a small remote from his pocket. “Watch this!” he pressed down on a red button. White light poured out of the ghost trap, then disappeared. “Darn! Didn’t work!” Quint said. “Have to rely on the papers.” He pulled three papers from his pocket.
The spirit awoke from the stun spell and continued his charge toward the humans.
Quint started reading. “MINATH ZINK QUEAZYN BNJKOGW! QUI ZITH YIATH JBORK!”
Just before the spirit hit the frightened teens, a vortex appeared behind it. It howled as it was drawn back by the powerful wind. It flew into the centre of the whirling mass. Then, as quickly as it came, the vortex disappeared, swallowing the spirit.
“Wahoo! It worked!” Quint yelled.
Bruce and Quint jumped up and rejoiced. They ran over to where Ryan lay.
“Ohmygosh! This reallyhurtsitreallydoes!” Ryan spoke fast because of pain and excitement.
“Slow down. We won!” Bruce said.
“Let’s leave. Ya, you too,” Quint said as Ryan moaned. Quint and Bruce picked Ryan up in their arms and carried him to the door.
“Hey. Anyone know where Cars is?”
“I bet he’s sleeping!”
~
Carson patrolled the hallways of the second floor, searching for his friends.
“They probably made this up!”
He entered a book-filled den, and sat on a wooden chair in the corner.
“I’ll just wait here for them.”
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