4
THE DAILY NEBRASKA
Wednesday, February 21, J 940
Article
Contributions from
the student body.
S Verse
"There is no greater pleasure
than to be going to the University
of Paris in this year of our Lord
1215!" Thaddeus Angers ironically
blew on his cold fingers, and
looked out of the cloth-covered
window that opened on the Rue du
Fouare.
Jean Dubois nodded soberly
from the floor where he was at
tempting to get his sabots on with
one hand. Hia serious, thin face
worried over the sabot, but he
seemed to be thinking of some
thing else.
"Oh, come now, Jean!" Thaddeus
said. "It really is a great life.
Must you be always preoccupied
with the future and truth and such
nonsense?" He gulped his break
fast wine and repeated. "Yes, it's
a great life, and if you don't get
those shoes on we'll miss Guis
card's lecture, bad as it is."
Onward to school.
They rushed pcllmell out of tho
little garret into the narrow
Street of Straw, through groups of
noisy, boisterous students, toward
the hall of Jacques Guiscard, Mas
ter of Trinquet College, and lec
turer of anatomy.
Jean, sober-faced and earnest,
ppoke as if he were resuming a
conversation. "Whatever you say,
Thad, you really do agree with me.
Jacques Guiscard does not know
a straw about anatomy. All we've
ever learned from him were the
words of Galen and Aristotle."
Thaddeus, with his eyes on the
town girls who passed, replied,
"Who is there but Galen ? He has
always been the authority. We
cannot doubt his word; that would
be a sacrilege!"
"Galen is no oracle!" Jean mut
tered vehemently. "He did not
know everything! He never dis
sected a human being. How can
we tell what is inside us if we
don't look?"
"That we can never do," Thad
deus avowed. "Our church forbids
it. We would be imprisoned and
excommunicated if we were sus
pected of even thinking of such a
thing!"
Mutual understanding.
He eyed Jean warily. They had
been together two years at school,
and they understood one another.
He knew that Jean with his ca
pacity for taking himself seriously
would stop at nothing if he felt
he could gain useful knowledge.
Only Jean's reverence for his
church, and the deep-seated devout
faith that he had absorbed from
his first day on earth kept the
brazen spirit of scinece that was
his from upsetting their lives.
Thad also knew that because he
was himself insatiably curious he
would be forced to help Jean in
any experiment.
Jean, with his dark eyes blank,
pondered within himself. Guiscard
was an old woman. Cowardly,
mercenary, with an incurable
thirst for gold, he ignored the chal
lenge to learn more about ana
tomy. His classes were digests of
Galen, Issac. and Constantinus. He
had never touched the knife nor
the scissors. What was needed
was a man who would not be
afraid to defy the narrow dog
matic views of the world. They
needed someone who could think.
Someone who would think.
Prince and pauper.
They entered the Master's hall
and seated themselves on the floor.
All the students, prince and pau
per alike, sat on the straw-strewn
floor. Guiscard, arrogant anu lo
quacious, rambled on from the
onlv chair in the room. He spoke
so swiftly that the students could
not copy his notes. That was sly!
they could not tell how much he
renatcd himself. He read in a
sleep-producing tone, from Galen's
Pantegnl, once brilliant ana orig
inal, now so powerful that it had
stifled all thought. He droned on
and on.
.Tenn fidtroted and wrlcclcd with
his impatience at the words of the
learned Master. He shook his
head uneasily and seemed ready to
hurst into antrrv contradictions,
but Thad jerked at h's cloak and
he subsided rebeuiousiy. Alter an,
hadn't they, in the secrecy of their
room, dissected mice and birds?
Hadn't they proved without doubt
that Guiscard was teaching a false
doctrine? They knew him for a
revered hypocrite, and they could
do nothing.
Class finally over.
Three long hours of it. Jean's
teeth were clenched in a soundless
fury when they reached the street.
His eyes blazed with resentment at
the injustice of being forced to be
lieve the absurd formulas of Galen.
He had forgotten for a moment his
creed and his church.
At the doorway of the Studium
he stopped and turned with ven
om. "That That!" he said. "That
is what we starve ourselves for!
It won't do! Guiscard is a lazy
liar! For all we know, so was
Galen. I'm going to find out the
truth!"
"How can we do it?" Thad,
ready for excitement was instantly
at his side. He scrutinized his
friend's face, saw the fanatacism
there, and hesitated for he knew
what was in Jean's mind.
"No," he said, "I can't do it!"
Planning dissection.
"Do as you like!" Jean flung at
him defiantly. "Whether I lose my
soul, my mind, and my life, I'm
going to know the truth. By the
Mother Mary! I'm going to per
form a human anatomy, and..."
He noticed the relenting gleam in
Thad's eyes. "You're going to
help me."
They ate their lunch as if it
were their last. Thad's usual high
spirits lay frozen in his heart by
Tess of
A review
Thomas Hardy and I get off on
the wrong foot from the very start.
in Tess of the d'Urbervilles he is
apparently making Fate synony
mous with coincidence. He pro
poses that chance happenings di
rect a man's destiny, that man is
a victim of coincidental circum
stances and has no control over
his life or actions.
With this assertion Hnrdy enn
not get in on the ground floor with
me, for I choose to believe that I
have a free will to a certain ex
tent. 1 want to believe there is a
difference between Fate and coin
cidence. The question of fate is an un
answerable one on which, I have
come to the conclusion, one can
only take an arbitrary position
neither side being able to advance
any evidence as proof. The fact
that coincidence does occur is no
logical argument for the proposi
tion that it was fate to be
predestined and all laid out just
waiting for the principals to come
along and meet it.
Hardy, the fatalist.
So Thomas Hardy takes the side
of the fatalists who blame their
all on external circumstances, and
my aversion to his fundamental
idea spoils Tess, herself, for me.
I consider Tess an ineffectual
protagonist of Hardy's alleged aim,
but he has much better argument
in the character of Angel Clare.
Hardy plays God to his characters,
though it was no doubt pity that
drove him to create and write of
them. God is evidently a fiend,
who confers upon you;h a roseate
outlook as a trick, a friend who
gives you the illusion that you're
not being tricked, but never lets
your hopes be realized. Tess
d'Urberville is portrayed as the
innocent young girl who is
mangled by the hand of fate.
Tess Is a puppet.
Tess is a puppet. She has been
niade to order, she has specifica
Truth and
Rebellion for
the unreasoning horror of what
they were about to do. All the
ominous and awful powers of the
universe were watching them,
waiting to see if they would have
the towering presumption to car
ry out their purpose an act ex
pressly forbidden to man. Is not
the spiritless body a possession of
God's ? To tamper with the secrets
of life, even the curious seeker
after truth must beware!
Where, a corpse?
Jean ate little, his mind preoc
cupied witht the plans for obtain
ing a corpse. They could have a
body for the trouble of picking it
up if they were not seen at the
pauper-burying grounds outside
the city. The transportation of
their gruesome package to their
room would be more difficult; but
would he have the courage to
cut his way into the inviolable se
crets of God? Jean made the sign
of the cross many times that day,
wrestling with his own spirit for
freedom. Could he cast aside the
great mass of religious belief that
was burned deep in his soul ? Could
he ferret out the ageless secrets of
life and death, look at them.
Sombre spectre
Sunset found them in the little
tavern beneath the chaste, puri
fying shadow of the Cathedral.
The sombre spectre . of the un
known had descended upon the
table. They talked in low whisp
ers while the comely barmaids
looked askance at the two who
were usually so cheerful and
friendly.
"We've got to do it tonight,
Jean! Tomorrow is St. Thomas'
fete. We'll work the whole day."
the D'Urbervilles
of Hardy's fiction child
tions. Humans aren't made to
order. Tess is. She imprcsesd me
as a stock character the sweet
young thing seduced and forever
miserable therefrom. What I ob
ject to primarily is not her char
acter, but the fact that her career
is handled by coincidence. The
most important moments of her
life the occasions, that is, most
vital to the plot of the novel, are
purely chance happenings.
When she is still virgin and in
nocent, gamboling on the green
with the other maids, and Angel
Clare came in to dance with them,
he dances with all except her.
Coincidence so what? What rea
son does that give me to believe
that because of this incident, Tess
is, watcd to go on to her doom?
I am sorely tempeted to believe
that the coincidence was placed
there os a bit of emotional play
to reinforce the plot and no more.
Overplayed coincidence.
A flagrant misuse of coincidence
is, in my estimation, the end of
the letter in which Tess tried to
confess her past to Angel before
their marriage. She slips it under
the door it goes on under the
carpeting and Angel passes by
oblivious. So through no fault of
her own, her good intentions are
thwarted, as the novel's plot
necessitates, by sheer accident
which in itself is no argument for
its having been directed by the
hand of destiny.
Now Angel Clare, as I suggested
before, is a much better argument
for Hardy's fatalistic convictions.
Angel is not governed by coin
cidence. One can certainly not,
for instance, say that it was coin
cidence that he did not make a
deliberate effort, go out of his way,
to look under the carpet for the
letter.
Angel's destiny.
No, Angel's destiny is within
a Woman
Knowledge
Thad stopped whispering when the
girl appeared with their food.
"Yes," Jean replied, on the verge
of hysteria. "We will get it over
with now. Leave the food."
Fearful of their own courage,
they turned their footsteps toward
the forest south of Paris. They
walked slowly, scanning each face
for a friend, feeling completely
alone in their world.
By the Sein rose the smoke of
the rubble dumps. The smell of
lime, eraser of memories, assailed
their nostrils. In the distance the
trees with their swaddling of dirty
snow waited silently for the two
truthseckers.
I can't do it!
And then, with a sudden light
headed laugh, Jean stopped upon
the road, and looked fearfully past
Thad his face gone soft and
courageless. "I can't do it," he
said quietly. "I can't do it, Thad!
I'm afraid!"
Thad, shocked, pulled up. He at
tempted to encourage Jean, but the
dread clutched at his throat and
he managed only a weak. "But we
must, Jean I
They looked woefully at one an
other, and sat at the side of the
road wrapped in mutual horror
pondering.
Thad hit upon an idea. Jean had
been studying too hard. The stu
dent riot with the townspeople only
a few days before, his bitter
enmity with Guiscard all had
combined to bring Jean's nervous
mind to a pitch that he could not
control.
"Jean," he said, "we've been tak
him, in his own nature, his own
mental constitution, in his educa
tion and in his heresy in breaking
away from that education in his
own choices of the sort of ma
terial with which to stimulate his
nund, and in the consequent con
victions of right, morality, be
havior which he developed. Per
haps ne was fated to work out his
life as he did, as a result of his
heritage of mind and body-at
least the course which his life took
was in causal relationship with the
kind of person he was.
Angel may have been a skunk,
but, because of his nature and his
background -thru no fault of
his own, for have the fatalists
any more reason for saying that it
was his fault (as opposed to the in
nocence of Tess) than I have for
saying that it wasn't.
Hardy's salvation.
The fatalist's can say Angel acts
as he does because he is what he
is-and all that has come before
predestined his action in deserting
Tess.
This is the dotermlnist point of
view and it is the salvation of
Hardy s novel.
How well Angel's career as a
skunk is worked out to last! his
great love was not Tess, it was
himself and his "superior" idea's
of the gooQ in life. He was con
sistently rigorous in his demand
upon the virtuosity of others, ex
cused himself from guilt and was
repulsed by the thought of leveling
himself down, so to speak, with
those who failed him. All that he
did he did because it was like him
to do so yes, indeed
Oli-my Dar-ling Clemen-tine
How I missed her
How I missed her
How I missed my Clemen
tine
Till I kissed her
lit-tle sis-tcr
Ing ourselves too seriously. I know
a new tavern where th wine ia
cheap and the girls are pretty.
Come on. We'll forget our tum
bles!" V
And the terror-stricken Jean let
himself be dragged away.
Wine and women.
They raised their glasses many
times in the brightly lanterned
Bleu Loup, and the girls who
laughed with them were pleasant
and full of life.
Somewhere in Paris that night
they picked up a friend. As they
staggered home down the narrow
street in the early morning, the
strains of some bawdy tavern song
rose from their throats. Their new
found friend, with an arm over the
shoulder of each, had to he
dragged along, for he seemed lorg
ago to have lost interest in the
frivolities.
They struggled into the little
garret room and laid their com
panion at full-length upon the only
table. They carefully covered him
and dropped, still fully clothed, to
c 1 o r
The chimes of the Abbey Saiut
Genevieve were brazening the ai
with a holy resonance when Jean
an
stirred. He rolled over and looke
covertly at his sleeping friend. He
tickled the prominent broken nose
with a wisp of straw until, with a
roar, Thad rose to battle. They
wrestled furiously on the cot. A
powerful kick sent Jean surging
out on the floor. He clutched
handfuls of straw and plunged
back into the melee.
.. .love a pretty lass.
y lass. ,
Breathing hard, the
e two rested
:r foolishlyy
went to tlf
looking at each other
then Jean arose and
form on the table, whistling a tune
of the night before.
"Ho, I will love a pretty lass,
Ana we will drink another glass. . '
"I have a fear sir." he said.
takins the nose of an orator, and
addressing the prone figure on the
tame, mat you are going to make
a liar out of Guiscard. Maybe
you will heln turn old Galen over
in his grave. At any rate, sir,
your worth has trenled since you
left this lovely world. En garde,
m'sicu!"
He removed the cloak from the
corpse on the table and skillfully
as though he had made the mo
tions in his mind a thousand times
made the preliminary marks of
the scalpel on the bared dia
phram. Thad's recollection.
Thad rolled to a sitting position,
his blurred mind trying vainly to
recollect and comprehend
scenes of the previous night.
How they suddenly left the tav
ern and gone to the burying
grounds. How they had painstak
ingly selected a cadaver from the
open graves, and how they had
staggered home in the open hold
ing it up between them! and come
away unscathed ? Would the great
God above let him, little Jean Du
bois, pluck from the dead the in
formation that he wanted? He
felt his desire for truth to be like
a pale iris growing in a patch of
weeds: Weeds that he could not
fight
Miraculously, a wicker-covered
bottle appeared betweeen his
knees. He pulled the cork, watch
ing Jean with intent solence. With
the bottle opened, and tipped, and
appreciated, he moved to the chair
by Jean's side.
"Holy Mary, Mother of Christ!"
he murmured fervently. "How
you? You re not afraid or an
thing!"
"Ah. hut I was afraid last
night." Jean said half seriously.
"I was afraid of Maria. V .hat
lovely eyes she has. I but in se
the lesser of my two foaist"
ed
I a V
