{ } = word or expression can't be understood
{word} = hard to understand, might be this

...I had a very agreeable surprise. The author of this book on the Greek education, of Paideia, Mr. Werner Jaeger, wrote me and came around to my point of view about the characteristic of the Greeks. So I'm quite proud of it, because he's -- figures as the great authority on the Greeks. And so far, he wrote he had never seen the clear distinction between play and seriousness on which I'm basing my distinction between the three other orders: the tribal, the imperial, you see, and the Jewish order, compared to the school order, or play order, or leisure order of the Greeks. So I feel very good about this conversion.

The second thing is: who sold me on the Vienna gallop? This is nonsense. You mean, of course, the -- must mean the -- the -- the collected gallop of the Viennese Riding School. Yesterday. No horse gallops backward.

(No, it doesn't gallop backward. It jumps backward, then it gallops.)

Well, who tells -- who -- who does? I have tried to investigate. I have -- I am myself a horseman. And I have a friend who is a Viennese, and a great horseman. He has hundred { } -- and nobody has ever heard of this. And the dictionary hasn't heard of it. So I -- and I have three books on -- on the training of horses, and -- and all the movements, and I have a special book on the rid- -- the Viennese Riding School, and it says nothing about it.

({ }.)

Well, I know the Spanish school. And I have seen them myself.

({ }.)

Well, I'll give you three dollars, if it is true. One dollar for each step.

As -- with regard to the -- to the philosophy of history of Mr. Toynbee and Spengler, and the other books there on the shelf -- we -- we will write the quiz about them after the vacation sometime. Not the first meeting, as I thought. { }. I've been asked a very good question with regard to drama -- Greek drama, and its connection with reality.

Now among all the arts, gentlemen--painting, sculpture, architecture, all the Muses--the highest is always drama. That has profound reasons, because { } in most { }. Nowhere can you -- cannot identify yourself so completely as in Hamlet or Othello. Therefore is a hierarchy of values. Those of you who have

taken Philosophy 9, who has?--you will recall that we talked about the place of drama, as compared to lyrics and epics. And I put it on here: you get the special and crucial situation of the world in which -- into which the Greek sense of beauty takes us, and the -- leisure. If you take leisure, and think of your entertainment, you will find that there are three ways of idling away the time. You can, by tension, enhance the expectation. Drama; it's dramatic, you see. You can enlarge on the -- your momentary feeling. That has not a -- a direction for the future, but you bathe, so to speak, in feeling {of this moment}; it's the lyrical poem. If somebody sighs, the poet makes a long, lyrical poem out of it. He enlarges the sigh. And in epics, we -- we repeat. We look back, narrate, you tell a story. And of course, the story has time, and it slows down, and it enlarges on our recollections.

So all epics, gentlemen, is repetitive, very long; a lyrical poem is very short compared to any epical story. You take War and Peace by Tolstoy, a great epic, you see, it's -- it's -- would -- would { }. I -- you put down War and Peace, I at least -- I regret it that it is at an end. You want to go on. Isn't that true? The same is true of any real epic, that it gets you. You re- -- you don't wish it to end. But in a drama, you have to terminate the story, because you are, you see, on -- you sit on needles, because you don't -- want to know how the hero makes out in the end. And then a good epical story of course is not for you. You are too young. It {takes} usually an older age, before you have still the inner leisure, and the inner time, to give in and to surrender to the endless stream of -- of story, gentlemen. You see, A Thousand and One Nights.

And the analytical, or the scientific approach, the abstract approach, that would of -- be, of course, the fourth form of telling you something, just the plain facts, facts of life -- as most modern novels try to tell you. The psychological novel of today tries to enlighten you about the facts of life, of which you already know far too much in all the wrong things.

Now of all the arts, gentlemen, drama needs the connection with reality more than anything else by one little link. And that's the name of the hero. To go -- speak first of the Greeks in Greece: the Greeks in Greece, before there was a theater, before there was drama, had of course the liturgy of the founding hero, like Horus in Egypt. That was enacted by {mimicry} every year. { }. The pyramid was built, the { } went down the river, all this was enacted. You can't call it "drama," because you cannot call a display in the Church "drama." It's real. It's the -- your own forming of the body of Christ, the Church--if you understand Communion at all; most of you don't. You think you go to a lecture when you hear a sermon. But people don't go to lectures in church. The Church is only alive--as long as you are not a Unitarian--but as long as you believe that you are needed to form the living body of Christ at that moment. By receiving the same

word into all of you, you become one body. That's the meaning of the sermon, and the meaning of the whole liturgy, that you do something.

The Greeks called this also "doing." "Drama" means just "doing." And today there is a famous debate, especially in England, going on about the root of the liturgy, that it is a {drominot}, something that must be done by the people themselves. You cannot sit and look at a -- at a church service. Either you are part of it and do something, or there's no Church. Most of you kill the Church, because you look at what's going on. When you going into a -- especially into another denomination's service, you -- you're curious. Now you cannot of course do anything but destroy the liturgy if anybody looks on. In antiquity you couldn't. They were mysteries. Nobody who wasn't participating could see the thing, you see, because it would have taken the sting out of this. If anybody had escaped the fascination of having to be {dunned} into this group, into this body. It is terrible that most of you are -- will see -- look too much at other people's feelings, and other people's { } kills your own. Weep and laugh, gentlemen, when you go to a movie. But you only giggle. I have never seen anybody weep in -- in a -- in a movie. And there are many real -- occasions when you should. The best you can do is just laugh your head off, which means that you are outside.

I think the -- as you well know, I mean. The behavior of most Dartmouth students in the movies is just a -- a -- scandal. Because they -- you want to prove to yourself that you cannot be taken in. But gentlemen, I'm very sorry for people who cannot be taken in. They cannot live. The whole mystery of life is the courage to be taken in. And it is your cowardice that you want to show your superiority and laugh the -- things out of court. If you don't weep, gentlemen, you cannot laugh. And what you do is something this side of life. You haven't yet lived. If you cannot shed tears over Ophelia, you cannot understand Hamlet. Because Hamlet weeps. It is the price he has to pay for his terrible role, that Ophelia goes to pieces. He can't help it, but it's terrible.

And that's why -- why -- why Hamlet says, "What is in He-" -- what's Hecuba to him? Because he knows that he's forbidden to heel to Ophelia's complaint, you see. And Hecuba -- the actor weeps over Hecuba, and he says -- and he knows his weakness that he is not allowed to weep over Ophelia. He has just to remain hard.

So gentlemen, the -- the thing to be done is the essence of all worship around the grave, around -- at the altar, on the warsh- -- -path where you shout and dance, or in the dancing-ground where you swing your girl. That is, you have to do the thing.

Now the Greeks are the first people, gentlemen, to objectify the world,

and a drama is something that is no longer done by the people in Sparta, because the story of Agamemnon, the king of Sparta -- the king of Argos, and the story of Menelaus, the king of Sparta, and his wife Helen, and the wife -- the murderess Clytemnestra is enacted in Athens, where they are not the patron heroes, where they are, you see, brought by curiosity, by the { }.

The same is true of -- the famous Oedipus. You all know of Oedipus the wrong thing. Oedipus had no Oedipus Complex, as you know, but he was just a very unfortunate man whom the gods had abandoned. And the -- famous trilogy by Sophocles on the -- Orestes deserves better, gentlemen, than to be mistaken for Mr. Freud. It is a very trag- -- sad -- terrible story, when he blinds himself, as you know, when he discovers his unfortunate situation. And then the Athenians come to his rescue on a hill near Athens, on Colonus, the last half of trilogy is made out. And the poet of Athens speaks to the Theban king, so to speak, reconciling words, and tells him that outside his own father's city, his own paternal city, he may find peace.

So the drama of Greece, gentlemen, enlarges the soul of every citizen, of every one of these hundreds of communities, by allowing him to share by comparison the feelings, the emotions of other peoples. You take this for granted, gentlemen. But you have never thought how artificial it is that we explode our little, own community by opening our hearts to far-away sufferings. Take the Hungarian business. You take it for granted that these people thousands of miles away should touch your heart, you see. That had to be done. That had to be achieved. The Greeks have humanized foreign relations. The -- Greeks have taught us first in -- within Greece, and then within Persia, and then within the Mediterranean, and finally all over the globe. When you are a Greek, you read the news from Tibet and China with some sympathy, or empathy. That is, you have acquired the faculty of suffering with foreign people, have you not? And also of rejoicing with these people, although they have nothing to do with you, no relation, no political order in common, you see. And -- and yet this sympathy, gentlemen, is the Greek gift. Because you can sympathize in humanity without loving, without sacrificing. Just sympathetic -- putting them in a second space into which you see them as you see books in a library, as you see pictures in a museum, as you see outside of your private home certain things with which you sympathize, although you can do very little about them. You have to let it go at that.

The second world, gentlemen, created by the Greeks is the world of sympathy. Now that's drama, and the highest. And there is then one memory, gentlemen, of the true--and not fictitious--character of this kind of poetry, that the name of the hero cannot be invented by the poet, but that he must remain connected with some reality. Hamlet had to be an old tradition in order to be a

great play. If Shakespeare had invented all his stories, he would be a smaller poet.

You read -- in -- with your, of course, your fabulous power of originality, you would of course have invented all Shakespeare's plays from scratch. He went humbly back to stories. Because, gentlemen, Othello and Hamlet--and in Schiller, Don Carlos--and in Goethe's Faust, and in Milton's Paradise Lost, the essence is that these people are -- have a name in history. Historical drama -- take MoliŠre and Corn- -- take Corneille, and Racine in France. The important fac- --by the way, Victor Hugo, also--what is completely omitted in American aesthetics, who are just, I think, childish, because they have no -- don't give art the proper connection with real life. What you have today in -- in artistic criticism in this country is pure asceticism, I mean, looking at art from the inner circle of professors of English, which is no criterion for the power of the play to get the people, instead of the professors. It's important to ask: what can get the people?

Now obviously, gentlemen, for the last 20 years, which name has been exploited by American poets on the -- in -- on the stage, to the full, because it was an historical name? Which? Lincoln! You can't invent Lincoln. He must have lived. He must have been assassinated, you see. He must have been the father of his country. Then you can write a play about it. There is no accident that Lincoln was a great vogue for the last 20 years. America had lost its direction totally. Where was she going? Nobody knew. So let's go back to Lincoln and try to get direction, again.

As long as these aestheticists, gentlemen, cannot explain to you why the drama of Lincoln, the -- all these many plays and Sandburg's Lincoln -- have become so popular, they have missed the real secret of art: that in some last analysis, drama of course has to go back to reality. All art has to go back to reality.

Gentlemen, a Madonna to this day is better in its -- in its content than a potato painted by the most famous Impressionist painter. They tell you today the truth that a potato well-painted is better than a Madonna poorly painted. Ja, well, that's too cheap, this analogy. You have of course to compare two masterpieces. And if you compare a potato as a masterpiece, gentlemen, and a Madonna as a masterpiece, then there is no doubt that the Madonna as a masterpiece can govern a whole city, as they did in Italy in the 15th century, when the Madonna of Sienna, or the Madonna of Florence made politics, made order, made -- agreement. And a potato may make agreement between the potato-eaters by Mr. van Gogh. But that's a very small group.

Today this is -- I challenge you on this, gentlemen, because you all are

heretics. The whole tradition in this college at this moment, and in America, is that aesthetics have no connection with reality, that their value is -- is somewhere in -- themselves. That's ridiculous. And the Greeks never were so stupid to believe such stuff. Only schoolmen, scholastics, and martinets, and pedants can have this arrogance to say that what they like is in itself best. They have to ask, "How is the bridge built between the imagination of the artist, and its publi- -- his public?"

Now there's one great mystery, gentlemen, in the drama, then. The drama, of all the other arts -- I could put you here, you see. I could do this, and say this is the whole -- the arts of the world. Then we have the art of painting and sculpture; that is the outer things. Then you can get music. And then there came architecture. And of all these four great arts, I would say Literatur -- literature is the closest to the people, because it can tell them of what it is speaking. But then -- then a cathedral--that's mighty, isn't it? you go into a great church. But you have to know -- understand because the cathedral has to be interpreted by your own experience. If you go from the outside, and know nothing about the service there, it strikes you as rather superstitious.

Therefore the architecture is less articulate than literature. And again, painting and sculpture are -- leave you colder. I mean, you can see all the beauties painted, but if you have no names for the scene there, you will remain cold. And music is without words again, and you can of course dream feelings into your music you hear, without any check on you, without any control. It is only {when sung} in us, your musical ear, that you know what your -- what the composer really means to tell you. Otherwise you can be terribly mistaken.

So -- by which I mean, if this is the all -- order of the arts, gentlemen, then all this is Greece, you may understand perhaps why, when I talk about drama, I talk of all the arts. Drama is the highest form of literature; and poetry or dra- -- literature is the highest form of the arts. It's the most difficult, because it has to penetrate all the layers of consciousness. Music takes a very { }. He omits all the words, you see. Architecture omits all duties, obligations. And painting can leave you very cold. But poetry has this terrible task to talk the same language as you, yet in an enhanced way, in a higher way. Take you away from yourself, you see, and put you down again in this enhanced way of which I talked last time.

Now drama then, gentlemen, is the key to your understanding of the relation of the arts to life. A real, great drama must have a name, as a Madonna must have Mary and her child, in order to strike you as the highest painting, the most comprehensive painting. Or the Crucifixion, or an Ascension, or whatever -- or the -- "The Last Judgment" by Michelangelo. Do you think that Michelangelo could have painted "The Dwarf" with the same result as "The Last Judgment"?

Anybody who thinks so is -- to me -- is ridiculous. It had to be "The Last Judgment," and you -- Christ had to appear there as the judge of the world, in order to see the majesty of his painting, and his craft. If you don't believe this, gentlemen, that prophets, and disciples, and his -- and his Crucifixion, and Piet… by Michelangelo are so great because he mastered the most difficult topic, you see, and the most comprehensive, you already have lost, I think, your -- your understanding of the place of the arts in society.

But I want to make one concession, gentlemen, after ha- -- first having warned you against dissolving the delicate link between the arts and society. One thing is true: the Greeks transformed the people into the public. That is, a public in a theater is not the same as a people. And if you study the difference between the meaning of the word "public," and the word "people," you will know in what mortal danger this country today is, because you have lost this distinction. You make no distinction between the public and the people. You say, "The public wants it," and then you give it to him. You must never give to the public what the public wants. You can only give to the people what the people want.

Mr. Frankfurter -- Felix Frankfurter, this great reactionary, has written a -- a book, The Public and His Gov- -- Its Government. And that's the end of democracy, gentlemen. The public can have no -- government. The public can only have entertainment. The public is me, in as far as I need mental entertainment: by books, by arts, by movies, you see. I'm myself public when I go and pay 35 cents. But when I go to church, I'm not public; I'm people. And when I marry, I'm people. And when I teach you, I am people, gentlemen, because I'm the older man who teaches the young. I do not fictitiously tell you that I want to play baseball with you. I want to teach you something. And I want to stress that all the thousands of years that have gone by come to you through me, and that all the generations of man which are -- come after us, are looked into you by my imagination. I don't care for you, gentlemen, as individuals, as public. What do I care? But I say I want to frighten you, so that you do not forget the most valuable things to pass on into the future. Beyond you. What do I care for your exams, gentlemen, or for your marks? To hell with that! I'm not here to teach you, gentlemen, as individuals. I'm here to teach you as representing the future. As people.

People: thinking in generations, in avenues of time. Public is thinking in terms of sensation, as of this moment. Entertainment. { }.

Please, ask yourself this question: how can a nation survive, gentlemen, how can a society survive in which this distinction between public and people is constantly denied? Most of you have never heard that there is a distinction. Isn't

that true? Wie? It is terrible. The public: that's me, in as far as I'm bored, as I can spend money on whiskey, or liquor, or a cocktail party, or on a show, you see. That's the public. -- Appeal to my lowest instincts. People appeal to my most -- highest instincts, to my rare moments, to the moments where I -- something is demanded from me, which I don't like to do. The unpleasant things which I have to do, you see, must appeal to me as people.

(Is there a difference between public and mob?)

Oh yes. Because we need public. But we don't need a mob. A mob is not necessary, you see. If you want me to -- you can -- the Greeks have created the public. A drama needs a public. That is, if in Athens the story of Agamemnon is enacted, Sir, the Athenians are not asked to march. They can sit. They can be in a theater, you see. They can look at it. And they can take a lesson from this book, you see, of Agamemnon, for their own political problem, which is Theseus, and Pericles, and Socrates, you see. They might not have condemned Socrates if they had listened well to the tragedy of Agamemnon. But they are public. They are not a people. But they are not a mob. What's the difference, gentlemen?

I think it may help you to -- it's a very simple thing. The former expression of course was "mass" for "mob." And we may -- if you allow me, I want to use this word. Gentlemen, the -- the quicker our civilization works--the speedier, the more industry is constantly changing--the more you and I only have jobs and no professions. We are not artisans anymore; you see. We are not artists { }, we are now professional men. We are not skilled workers; we are semi-skilled workers. We are even just unskilled workers. And more and more people seem to become this.

Now gentlemen, a mass means--in Latin and Greek--dough, something that can be kneaded, something that can be molded. That's the original meaning of "mass." And people of course have at all times seen that if you gather people on a spot, a thousand people, you can knead them, as Marc Antony kneaded the Romans by his speech in -- in Julius Caesar. Now it is the--you {can't} say the "kneadability"--it is the plasticity of the mass, you see, which wipes away memory of the individual, you see, which does away with people's super- -- conservatism, or slow reaction, you see. And the more we become mass, the more pliable we become.

And -- now the public is a number of individuals whose mind is entertained. That's something quite different from a mass. Can you understand? Because a public contains an appeal to my reason, to my individual character, to my personal instruction, and in- -- information, you see, my education. If I read Hamlet, I let play everything I have learned, my knowledge about the times of

Elizabeth, you see, my knowledge of the stage by that time, my own other interest in arts and in sciences. And therefore the public consists of persons. The mass consists, you see, of people and public who have tried to forget who they are. You understand?

So there are three things. I think it's a very good question, that you bring this up, gentlemen. You all are satisfied with two things: persons and masses, or persons and mob. That's not enough, gentlemen. The real people of history are people. That is, they are sons and fathers. You remember what we said? The second group, the public, is that you are an individual. You are wanting to learn something. You want to excel. You want to -- to be distinguishable from others. You are ambitious. That's the person. And the third is the mass. You surrender, because the new factory cannot be built if there are not a thousand people who will do what they are asked to do. Therefore the mass is a necessity for industry. They must be able to {come} in, you see, and say, "I'm very glad to get a new occupation," you see. You must have no resentment, you must have not hanging ba- -- no, you mustn't -- hanging back and, you see, be nostalgic about what you did yesterday. So you become a mass.

Everything in humanity, gentlemen, is wrong that is dialectically one thing or the other. Please learn--that's the whole business of this course, gentlemen--to enlarge your sights, gentlemen. Whenever you s- -- you are told that man is either-or, never believe him. Man is neither a Communist nor a capitalist. All this discussion is pure nonsense. There are many forms of economy. But you only discuss the two. So it really -- the whole universe shrinks to this ridiculous antithesis, which is a purely logical game. In reality, there are no such things. Mr. Tito is already quite different, as you well know, from Mr. Stalin. It's just a fa‡on de parler, if you call this both Communism. It's the opposite. Then you go to the kibbutz in Jerusalem, in Palestine, and you don't know what that is, you see. Probably more communistic than either Mr. Tito or Mr. -- Mr. -- Stalin, but they don't call it "Communism."

These are all just logical games, gentlemen. Humanity cannot be divided in two -- into two, into -- thesis and antithesis. Marx does this, Hegel does it, and all Americans do it. It's -- it's your -- because you are a public. The individual wants to orient himself by one and two. But in a generation of peoples, gentlemen, in generations of people, there are the grandfathers, and the fathers, and the sons, and the grandsons. Already these four are all very different. No use reducing one to the other.

So I want you to throw out dialectics. Man is not to -- ever to be gotten by a bifurcation of black or white. But the public, gentlemen, the public is the creation of the Greeks. And the public are the people who can't forget that they have

gone to school. The word for the Greeks, gentlemen, the Greek word is the word "skhole," which means "leisure," out of which we cleverly have made the word "school." You must know that the word "school" is the creation of the Greeks. But in a much...

[tape interruption] your word "school."

[tape interruption]

...It's a circumvention of real achievement. And I tried to cure this man by throwing him into some real activity. But the school today has a tremendous temptation. And it isn't -- very much worth.

I have a friend who's with General Motors. And he has working with him 10 engineers who have graduated from MIT. And he never took any- -- anything in engineering. He's just a man who graduated -- in the humanities, and lived five years happily in France. And never did a piece of engineering. And he's now in with these MIT graduates, because what they learned in school is perfectly useless for -- for General Motors. And so here, this man without any engineering capacity whatsoever, is absolutely equal to these graduates of MIT. Because it's a purely scholastic business, MIT. School. Greek.

You won't believe it, but I just got a pathetic letter describing this situation. "School," gentlemen, equals "skhole," and "skhole" -- Greek, equals our modern conception of leisure.

So the whole segment, gentlemen, of the mind that goes to school--what you call the "educated mind," the educated man--that is form- -- molded by the Greeks. Except for your mind, you are normal people, gentlemen. But your mind I think is distorted. Don't be proud of your mind, gentlemen. That needs cure. The rest of you--your legs, they are exceedingly long. They are much longer than of any -- other nation, as you know. And they are perfect. But the mind, I think, the mind in this country is ugly. You have ugly minds, and good hearts, and good senses, and a fine body, and everything else is right with you. But since you mistake the people, and the public, and the mass, your mind is very poor. "In 10 minutes, I know it all." There's nothing in you, gentlemen, mentally. That's -- you must be entertained. You can't stand to be al- -- alone, because you don't know how to entertain yourself. You have three radios blazing in one dorm. That shows that there is nothing in your mind. You have to be entertained, gentlemen. The craving for entertainment is the proof that the -- your mind is not developed. It is totally dependent on others. It has to be fed. Because you

mistake the public and the peoples, gentlemen, for the --.

The mind has to be entertained, yes. But in a balance. And now we -- I give you some criteria, gentlemen, so that you can distinguish within yourself, I hope, what is Greek and what is real. The Greeks are not real, gentlemen. They are the friendly companion of life. The -- lipstick, the mirror, the reflection, the meditation, the contemplation. They are all the relaxation, which we need. Don't misunderstand me. I need it, just as you do. But I must learn to put it in its place, time and again. I have to tear myself away from my entertainments, from the books which I -- trying -- you see, to read and to write myself, and so on. It is second-rate. It is important, just as this -- this tie is important. I have to get a shirt; but you will admit that it is not first-rate, to be dressed. It's very important.

Gentlemen, I want you to understand what the Greeks did to the tribal and the temple situation. What time is it? Are we? We still have time? What? Wie?

(Seventeen after.)


Let me put two schemes on the blackboard, and then discuss it after the intermission. I really think, and I'm -- I think I do not make an appeal in the interest of this -- for you, if you can, like Mr. Jaeger--who is a man of 70 and a man of international fame--can come around to see where you are Greeks, and where you are not allowed to be Greeks, I think your existence in Dartmouth College will take on a different shape. It has much more meaning, if you can distinguish between yourself as the people, and as the public, and as the mass.

-- The tribe, we said, had these four institutions, without which it could not exist. A dancing-green, or bowling green; the warpath; and the altar. And you remember, I tried to tell you that the speech was practiced there by evoking the spirits of the dead; by revoking the crimes, the deviations from the right path; by feeling provoked, by outer threats, you see; and by convoking the living, you see, and overcome their jealousies in the name of the spirits of the old. And I said to you that religion, poetry, and law, were--and martyrdom--were all in one, wrapped together in the tribe.

The Greeks, gentlemen, have of course the grave, and they have the altar, and the dancing-green, and the warpath when they come into Greece. But at the end of the Greek era, gentlemen, at -- when you look at yourself here at Dartmouth--at your real, daily, existence--you will find you have no relation to the dead. You have none. The dead do not speak to you. Absolutely not. You live

day by day. And the war is mentally extrapolated. You are all pacifists in your mind. You have to go to war, and you may be in ROTC or so, but you haven't digested this as a fact of life. "It's regrettable," you say. You do not know that the price of peace is war. You say, "Nonsense, we can have peace naturally." Gentlemen, peace is supernatural. Peace never exists as long as it isn't acquired. Peace is an acquired faculty. You don't know this. You deny it.

Now gentlemen, at -- where the altar is--you don't even know what an altar is; that's ridiculous to you--you have the theater, and you have the school, and you have these gymnasiums. We put here these four things, gentlemen: school; athletics; Soldiers' Field, instead of real war--very significant that Soldiers' Field is now just a stadium, in Boston. Isn't it called Soldiers' Field?

({ }.)


({ }.)


({ }. It's also a { }.)

Thank you. So -- but the important thing is that most of you look at world -- at the world as a -- as a theater. "All the world is a stage," is a famous saying, you see, of the 17th century. All the world is a stage. Theater, school, athletics, and -- well, I think that's what it is.

This is the Greek creation, gentlemen. And if we analyze the conditions under which these things can exist, then you see that these little Greek cities were based on a traffic. They were trading centers, just like New York and Boston. America has very much in its Eastern seaboard, and also in San Francisco, of a Greek city. New York is not the United States for this very reason, because New York is a Greek city, and the Middle West is not.

What is the story, gentlemen? If we analyze the order of the Greek cities, and compare it with the order of the tribe, we'll be pressed back to compare it also with the order of the Egyptian or the Chinese empire. In an empire, gentlemen, there's also a quad- -- quadrilateral--that's a good expression, "quadrilateral," these four sides of reality--there is in -- in Egypt the temple, with its eternal recurrence. There is -- instead of the warpath, there are the fortresses. At the end of the country, it is fortified. That's buildings, instead of -- instead of marching orders. The Egyptians are protected by fortresses.

Inside, gentlemen, we have in -- in the temple, we don't have the dancingground, but we have the ecos. What is in our word "economy." You -- the word "economy" means the administration of a household. It means husbandry. And in the word "husbandry," you have of course the word "house." And I told you that Pharaoh's house was the Great House of Egypt.

And so the inner life of Egypt is -- based on this, what the Greeks called "oikos," and when -- we spell "ecos." And those of you who have written -- read my Multiformity of Man know that I'm speaking there of "ecodynamics," of the dynamics of an administration of a household.

Well, so this is the order -- the only future which the Egyptians admitted was the marketplace. They had of course to trade with Byblos, as I told you, and with other parts of the world to get the wood, or to get this sandstone, or the quarries in Nubia, or whatever it was, or the -- also the ingredients--pepper and cinnamon--from the Somali coast, and incense, for example. That is, just as the altar of the tribe is really deficient in Greece, because it can only righten wrong, and doesn't give the tribe a chance to enter the future, so the Egyptians, as you know, put here in back only the judgment of the dead. The Book of the Dead, and the Osiris, gentlemen, and all the penalties; looking backwards, the Egyptians say, "We judge the dead." Horus giving his eye to Osiris, and judging the dead: that's the relation to the dead. The dead are lower than the living. You don't care for the dead. The Egyptians do care for the dead. They have to put them in their place. Otherwise there would be mischief, there would be tribe.

If you -- I have spared a -- saved this up, gentlemen, this law of the empires. There is no empire without a temple. There is no empire without a judgment of the dead. There is no empire without fortification: a wall around China, the wall around Rome, you see. The wall around Rome --. I just -- it -- probably we have no time for this. But there's quite an interesting story about Romulus and Remus building the wall of Rome. It has to do with the necessity of founding a settlement, of founding one place, you see, which people cannot leave without breaking the will of the gods. Perhaps there's time to say something more about it.

So you have quite another quadrilateral in an empire. I saved this up to shock you into the awareness, gentlemen, that in a Greek universe--in Athens, in New York--the picture which life offers you is a little different. Everything concentrates from the marketplace. That's why Mr. -- Mr. Bacon wrote -- Bacon of Verulam wrote the famous chapter on what? On the idols of the --? marketplace, because he felt that in modern man, the Greek element, you see, concentrates totally on the marketplace. The idols of the marketplace. Now people doesn't live on the marketplace. But public does; and mob does; and mass does.

The -- you see, individuals who -- who have leisure time, you see, mill around. But not the people. They are at home. Or they are at war. Or where- -- whatever it is. You see, they are not on the street, and they are not on the marketplace -- at the marketplace. But you -- for your vision, gentlemen, America is just a big marketplace. It's Main Street.

So here is the theater, gentlemen. Here is the school, the Academy of Plato, or whatever it is. And here is this gymnasium. That's what you think of a city. That's what you call urbanization, when people live preponderantly in your vision in this way--going to Macy's, and going to the -- plays, and going to the Dodgers. As long as they are allowed to do that.

What's the rest, gentlemen? The -- the { } and what's the fortress of Rome? How is it called? Where is the fortification of the -- of a -- big city?

(In Rome, it's the outside.)

Well, and there is a -- what's -- what's the famous hill in Rome? With the for- -- most fortified { }.

(The Capitoline hill.)

The Capitoline hill. You see, the highest hill in Rome was never conquered by the Gauls. They held out, there, the head -- the head of the { } of the capitol. Have you heard of this story of the { } of the capitol?

({ }.)

You are all like Alice in Wonderland. They -- in -- in -- in Athens -- who has been to Greece? Only? Well, there is so-called place, Acropolis. Have you heard? Oh, I'm surprised. Do you think -- take it for granted that everybody has heard of the Acropolis? Why should you? You don't even know what it means. The Greek city was so small, gentlemen, that it had no territory to defend. Egypt had to have fortresses outside. Rome, and Athens, and all these many Greek cities--{Mykaleni}, Miletus, Salamis, Thebes, Sparta -- what have you. They were so small that they had only in the center a high hill, the highest point, the Acropolis, the high city, which was walled off again, a second time. And if everybody else, you see, was captured, the priests could retreat into this centerpiece and could hold out with a little cistern -- water from a cistern for many more months, until the enemy would go home and say, "These bastards cannot be conquered."

Well, I think it's very important for you to notice that the Greeks compromised so much that they changed the idea of a fortification to putting it as the

core of the country, you see. Instead of having a -- vast country like China, with a temple in the middle, they had the Acropolis. That is, they put their -- their {substance} of their defense in the center.

We don't know what the word "polis" means, but it may have something to do with politics. It may have been the place where you could stand and survive a war. "Politics" means "go to war," you know. And we don't know. The -- the meaning of the word "polis" is -- is -- is obscure. But the Greeks, as I told you, compromised: 5,000 people form the city--the number, by and large, of the tribe--3,000 or 2,000 -- 1500, you see, of course, there are smaller cities. But the principle of the country applies; there is a market at the foot of the Acropolis: the Forum in Rome, the agora in Greek--we say "marketplace." And if you read the Acts by -- written by Luke, what does he say about the Athenians? Where does the -- where does the Apostle Paul go in Athens? What do -- do -- do you know that Paul happened to go to -- to -- to Athens? You know, in -- there was a great celebration in Athens in 1954, because it was 1900 years ago that Paul went to Athens. It hasn't reached these shores, it seems, { }. After all, you were already in high school when -- when this happened, 1954. It was a great event.

What -- what -- where did -- where did Paul go? He went to meet the public, gentlemen. He couldn't find the peoples of Athens. But he went to -- the go to -- go to the these {schoolmen} and these entertainers. And the description of -- in the chapter of the Acts is very eloquent. The Athenians are always out for some { } -- some new sensation. And everybody must write a bestseller. They call these people in Athens, as the Apostle says -- the Evangelist says, a {"spermalogos," spermalogos}, a man who -- who sows out -- germinal seed, germinal ideas, you see, new ideas. And they look -- listen to him for curiosity's sake, and when he is through, they went to the next speaker, and never do anything about any of them.

The marketplace, gentlemen, is in Athens the place of life. But that's an artificial, purely intellectual life, gentlemen. There's no child born there. There were no pe- -- person buried there. To give you the -- the { }. I was impressed by the existence of Athens in your midst. When we had a speaker here, Mr. Lewis Mumford, some years ago, he gave a talk--a little bit like the Apostle Paul in Athens--at Dartmouth College. And a little bit like the Great Issues {people}. And he made a very moving appeal to reform of the colleges--of liberal arts education. It is 12 years ago, perhaps -- 13 years ago. A long time ago.

And I went up to him and said, "Lewis, this is wonderful. Now what do you think will happen next?"

"Oh," he said. And now listen well. Perhaps you take this down, because

that's the Greek attitude. "Don't you know that I'm only allowed to lecture here under the condition that nothing happens?" { }. "Don't you know that I'm only allowed to lecture here under the one condition, that nothing happens?"

Gentlemen, I once prevailed on a young man in this college in 1940, when the French were overrun, to leave college and do something better. The college has never forgiven me for that. It is a Greek place. You must never expect from a man to do something about a condition. He has to stay {put}, ja. That's Greek.

That's very serious, gentlemen. It has determined my whole life in this country, certainly. Otherwise -- I have never believed that. I have always believed that when something is very important, you have to do something about it. It is not enough to store it away in your memory and to say, "It's very interesting," or "It's very stimulating." Because you defeat your own ends, gentlemen. Of my best speech, you say "It is stimulating." And you are over-stimulated. You go from one stimulation to the next, gentlemen. In other language, that's called masturbation. Ja, it's pure stimulation, without any fruit, without any result. It's terrible.

That's Greek, gentlemen. The mind has its own way without any consequences. You play with everything. That's the theatrical, that is the -- gymnastic, and that is the scholastic attitude of man, gentlemen. You can put into your mind such innumerable con- -- sequences of thoughts, can you not? And I -- my dear people, I'm a converted Greek. When I grew up, I had my nickname, Plato. And I'm bright, and I'm just as intelligent as you are. And I have a good memory. And it is very tempting, gentlemen, to believe that this is the highest way of life, the superior way of life. And if I may claim any merit, it is that I disclaim any merit for such a life. It is -- has its place. It has its place, gentlemen, but only as long as the mind serves the people, and is not selling out to the public. Can you understand how important this is for me personally, gentlemen? It's my own story, which I'm trying to tell you, gentlemen, that the Greeks must come last and not first. They are needed; I hope I am needed--I can tell you things nobody else can tell you, gentlemen--under one condition: that I know that the human drama has real names, like Abraham Lincoln, you see, and not my abstractions, like humanity, or other nice generalizations.

When you hear a man speak about "man," m-a-n in the singular, gentlemen, know that he is a Greek. Real men talk about real people, about their mother, and their country, and -- and their United States, and Russia, you see. Anybody who talks to you about "man" in general, you can prove anything, you see, with your mind, because you look at man from the outside.

This then is the story. Now let's have -- { } for five minutes.

[tape interruption]

Gentlemen, the Greeks are the creators of the public. They are the creators of the comparative method. We talked about this last time. And I want you to put down clearly that the Greeks are not like the other peoples, like the Gentiles. The Greeks and the Jews together contain the full of antiquity, because the Greeks have compromised between empires and tribes, and if you know what the Greeks have done, you have, so to speak, two serious chapters, and one play chapter of -- of the past. And with the Jews, you have the third. And that's why in Christianity, gentlemen, the tradition of the Church has been based on the Greeks and the Jews. But for this reason, that the Greeks contained the family traditions of the human race: the masks, the dances, and the local traditions of the settlements, of the settled people.

The story of Romulus and Remus is a case in point, how this was done. Gentlemen, in Egypt, as you know, Horus had to rage -- to go -- run down the River Nile, from south to north, to unite the heavens. And his twin brother Set, the -- the rascal who withstood this unification is the twin brother, Horus and Set, Set always being the resister. Now the whole of antiquity is riddled with stories of twins. You find them in Babylonia. You find them, by the way, in our fairy tales. You find them in Romulus and Remus. You find them in Agamemnon and {Thiestes} -- no, {Thiestes} and {Acros}, and Aegisthus and Agamemnon, as cousins, the same thing. Wherever you look in antiquity, you find -- Castor and Pollux, the two brothers of {Helen}, and it may be in order to give you -- one word on these twins, to show you how tenacious this problem of settlement has occupied the minds of the ancients, because it was unnatural for tribesmen to settle. And it had to be under divine sanction of the -- from the sky down, that these people would stick to their one city and become Athenians.

This is totally forgotten today. People think nothing of being members of a -- being citizens. But I hope I have made it to you understandable that this was a tremendous step into dis- -- into localization, into staying put. This was done, because the twin brothers, of course, represent the -- South and the North. And one of them has to conquer the other, the resisting brother. Set represents in Egypt the -- the North, and he represents the night, as compared to the day of Horus, and all the -- and the -- you may say, the dry season, the drought season, as against the fruit, the water season, the flood season. This is true of all the twins. They are there because Heaven is divided. There is a stubborn fact. In Babylon, you find as the emblem of this mystery, the two eyes. Day and night, sun and moon, never can approach each other. North and south. That is, there is a conflict in reality which has to be reconciled by the founder of the city. And all the so-called founders in antiquity overcome this dualism. That's why Romulus has to slay Remus, you see. In building the wall, Remus provokes him by jump-

ing over the -- the lay- -- the, so to speak, the fairy tale. You may recall this. Remus shuns the authority of Romulus. That's how the story goes. But the meaning of the story is that Romulus has laid out square, the -- the North, the South, East, and the West of this city of Rome. He has oriented it on the seven hills. And the -- there is a resistance. Has he really done it? Has he really united it? Can south and north be re- -- real? It is this victory over the force of resistance which is celebrated in the story of the twins.

I thought you might be interested. There is a new study on the twins in antiquity. It just came out last year, and it's written in the Russian zone of Germany, so it is a remarkable achievement, by a lady. And I want to give her credit. Her name is {Riemschneider}. Because under great pressure of Russian Bolshevism, and German Communism, she has managed to write a very wonderful book on -- and it shows you what the Greek mind can do. -- They -- she has forgotten the occupation, and she has forgotten the devastation, and all the dangers of her existence, and she has written a very wonderful book on the recurrent and eternal necessity for the ancients to think that a city, a lasting place--an abode, as you may call it, you see, an abiding place--that that has to be founded by a reconciliation of what never shall meet.

We have the song by -- between East and West, and "never the twain shall meet." Perhaps you take this down in comparison. The ancients would have said, "South and North are separated, and never the twain shall meet." And yet they meet just the same, you see, by this triumphant genius of the ruler on earth, who does more than the divine -- the { } themselves have been able to perform. The -- "never the twain shall meet" is the problem of the twins in the sky.

I thought only that perhaps it may interest you, that such a very specific Roman story, like Romulus and Remus, has really a worldwide application, that you find that the problem of twins is a universal. The -- the title of the queen of Egypt, of the empress of Egypt is very interesting in this respect. It is -- her name is "He who can see Horus and Set." As the queen of the night, so to speak, of the -- who -- who shares the couch of the emperor of Egypt, she also knows the weakness, so to speak, that he's not always there, that not always is his victory there. So she sees both sides of the picture, Horus and Set. And I found out -- and of course in Egypt, you see, the sister marries the brother. Therefore the two brothers and the queen are sister and two brothers. "She who sees Horus and Set."

In Greece, there is the story of a lady who was called {Antiobe}. That's also the one who sees both brothers. Helen is the brother -- is the sister of the two Dioscura, the two sons of Zeus in Heaven, Zeus being the whole Heaven, you see, the -- the weather god. One of the Dioscura--you have heard perhaps his

name, the twins, in the heavens--one is in the North, and the other is in the South; and Helen, her sister, originally was wooed by one of them. Later it comes to the story of Paris and Oedipus in Homer. Helen is married to two Trojan brothers, one after the other, because that's the story of the twins again, you see. That the sky has to be related to a woman in the form of two {parts}. One of them then is, {even} at the time of the flood, victorious, but when the drought comes again next year, there is again great danger that Horus is not victorious. He has to conquer again. And he has to conquer every year. If he doesn't insist on his victory, the country goes to pieces.

It may -- this -- this is of course a little short. But it may show you the frailty of even these vast empires, gentlemen. The ritual has to be performed every year in China. The new year has to be proclaimed by the emperor of China every year. Now the Chinese manage to go on from 1300 B.C., perhaps, to 1911 A.D. How long is this? It's by and large as long as Egypt. Egypt lasted from 2700 B.C. -- -800 B.C. to 395 A.D., I told you. That's a story of 3,000 years. We can say that the empires lasted 3,000 years under the condition that they trembled every year over the powe- -- possibility of falling apart. That's so important.

You believe so little in your participation in the world that you think that America is safe without you. Please don't believe it for a minute, gentlemen. Inflation depends on you, and on not -- and on nobody else, for example. And so it is with everything. Don't believe that you are unimportant, gentlemen.

The one man who implements the law is more important that 200,000 moviegoers. And that's true in any days, in any society, in any time, gentlemen. Everything depends on you. You are the most indispensable person in the world, under one condition: that you are people, and not public. As public, you see, you are nobody.

And -- I want to sell you my wonderful title which I have received from a man in public relations, {Benton and Bose}, biggest advertising agency, as you know, in Madison Avenue. He came to our house, and talked about his -- his Procter & Gamble account, and that they had to compete with each -- themselves, having five soaps, so that nobody might have the idea not to buy Procter & Gamble. And so on and so forth.

And I said that I couldn't be impressed by these things. and he shot back at me and said, "Well, Sir. You are statistically unimportant."

And I said, "Thank God I am statistically unimportant." Because I'm {so important}, you see. The public is statistically important, and the mass is statistically important. But it's utterly unimportant.

If you rhyme the two things, the paradox, gentlemen, you know the difference between the Greek mind and the human soul. The soul is statistically unimportant. Because it is absolutely irreplaceable. It cannot be added up with anybody else, because it has its own moment in time, which is completely --. There is no substitute for your living at this moment. For -- for your mind, many substitutes, many better minds.

The last thing I would like to read to you is the great story of courage, justice, sobriety, and prudence. Who has heard of this? Ja, that's the Platonic fall. Then you may have heard of the supernatural virtues of faith, love, and hope -- or charity. These are the supernatural virtues. Gentlemen, the Greeks have four other virtues. They are founded on mutual admiration. If you play -- if two kittens -- kits -- the kitties play -- if you play ball, there is no sobriety and prudence in your play, and there is certainly no supernatural virtue in your play. No hope, faith, and love -- charity. But in a ball game, gentlemen, you admire the man who does better. And it is a virtue of you if you can compete, if you have zest, and if you obey by the rules--if you play the game according to the rules, as we say. And these are the -- very central virtues for anybody who plays a game: that he abides by the rules, that he is -- able to admire the better man, and that he makes a tremendous effort, you see, to overcome his handicap.

It has in psychology not found a place, this list of virtues. But I think they are very important, gentlemen. In any playful society--the education of a man, for example, is based on these powers, without admiration, imitation, competition, and loyalty--you cannot have any college, any school, isn't that true? If you ask what is in a school -- what gives a good spirit to Kimball Academy or to Dartmouth College, it -- are these virtues, that you can be gotten by the spirit of the college to do -- be the best man in the college, you see. That doesn't mean that what the college stands for -- it may be not serious, and it may not even be important, it may not be good--but you are playing the game, you see.

Now the Greeks had a word for this central power, gentlemen, and we have lost it. In Greek -- in--in Latin, too--the word "admiration" is connected with "miracle," with "miraculous." Unfortunately, our sense of wonder, and our sense of astonishment is not very -- more vivid in you. And it is not connected with admiration. Unfortunately, instead of saying that you wonder at a man's achievement, you have -- say you admire him. And it is, of course, a split in your consciousness, because the word "admire," and the word "wondrous" and "wonder" are not connected linguistically. Perhaps you introduce into your notes then, gentlemen, an attempt to restore the Greek, crucial attitude, gentlemen, that they organized a playful society on the basis of who is most admired. We have even an award for this guy in this college. How is it called? For the mostadmired student?

(The {Barrett} Cup.)


(The {Barrett} Cup.)

Yes, the {Barrett} Cup. And it is -- this side of good and evil, gentlemen: children, young man, adolescent, any nice group or club--the Rotarians, I mean, whatever you take, any friendly group--will -- will have this good spirit that the people admire each other for their good qualities. Whether that's good or not, you see, you can admire people perhaps for the -- a quality that we aren't so very admirable -- admirable. The main point is that the cement of a playful group is admiration, but in this more general sense, gentlemen, that we realize the miracle of being together. The achievement objectively strikes you as -- with a sense of wonder that we have such a good time together, that everybody is -- plays the game, that's the sense -- gives you a sense of wonder. And the man who does best is admired; that is, he is the world wonder -- the wonder of the world.

And this word "wonder" has to come back into your ken, gentlemen, because the -- at- -- contribution of the Greeks is not simply that they have created schools, and athletics, and that they have idled away the time and { } the companionship of the Muses. The most general sense is that they have cultivated our sense of wonder. Our sense of wonder has to be cultivated. That is what any growing person needs. You can be blunted in your senses. And most of you are. You say, "I don't care. So what?" My -- gentlemen, the "So what?" is the insult to life against which the Greeks have come into the world. The Greeks have never said, "So what?" They have always written a poem, or a painting. They have always done something about their sense of wonder.

You -- you scuttle your own genius. Every American ceases to be a genius at the age of 8. We are all born as geniuses, gentlemen. Genius is the native quality of man, because of his sense of wonder. And as you know, that's stultified in this country, because the pe- -- children think to each say, "So what?" "Don't get excited." "I don't care."

That is -- why America is without the arts, and without the sciences, because your sense of wonder, which is born into every human being, is not cultivated. It is blunt. You have to cultivate it, gentlemen. You have to be -- and you have to write poetry. And try it. You must allow yourself to remain plastic. But you all want to be hard-boiled, and sophisticated, and -- however you call these great attitudes of yours, which isolate you. Because what is, gentlemen, the sense of wonder? The sense of wonder is the Greek way of remaining sensitive. And to remain sensitive, gentlemen, is a very terrible thing. It means to remain

vulnerable. The sense of wonder is a very disagreeable sense in the sense that you can be deeply {impressed}. And that hurts. And you don't wish in being hurt. And anybody who does not wish to be hurt cannot be -- cannot create. A creative man, gentlemen, and a creative mind is a somebody who can be hurt. You have to take your choice. If you don't wish to be hurt, you cannot create. Because you cannot be impressed. If you cannot be impressed you have no sense of wonder. If you have no sense of wonder, you cannot transform an impression into an expression, because wonder means to do something, to transform the world.

Any sense of wonder in science leads to a new discovery. Any sense of wonder in a poet leads to a new play. Any sense of wonder in a painter leads to a new picture, you see. Any sense of wonder leads to a new way of teaching, for example. I try to teach you history in a new manner, don't I? Because I, in my sense of wonder, for 50 years I have tried to read the story which I now finally need to tell you. I would have loved to hear this story 50 years ago. And if I am proud of one thing is, gentlemen -- is that I have been hurt terribly in the process of developing my sense of wonder. But I have remained faithful to my project for -- as a boy, that I wanted to have a story told as I could reconcile it to my sense of wonder about this great nature of man. And that the Greeks have done, gentlemen. They have cultivated the sense of wonder. And wonder goes in four -- in different directions: of admiration of others; of wondering what has to be done about something; it is -- we aren't at an end when we wonder, we are willing to be taken into this wonderment, and our astonishment, and thereby we change.

Now the high point of The Il- -- Ilias, gentlemen, is a very simple thing. Achilles has slain Hector. Hector is the son of Priamus, the king of Troy. He's the best son, the oldest son, the successor to the throne. And if you ever read The Iliad, gentlemen, don't miss out on the 24th book. You usually end of course after the first hundred lines of the first book. The high -- why the Greeks became the Greeks is very clearly expressed in this last book of the Iliad. And that's why Homer is the Greek poet.

Priam is told in a dream that Achilles might be found benevolent enough, benign enough to give him -- let him have the corpse of Hector. If Hector can be buried, you must understand, from the old faith of the tribes, then his grave means some continuity for Troy. Because if he is buried, then his {life} hasn't been spent in vain. The enthusiasm of the next generation can be kindled around the grave. The funeral is an important part of the life of the city. But Achilles has taken his revenge. He has revenged his -- his friend Patroclus, his sweetheart. Is he going to give the corpse of Hector to Priam? Nobody knows.

Priam takes the chance. He says, "I have nothing to lose. Let him kill me."

And he goes into the tent of Achilles, and Achilles falls into a rage. Then he goes down on his knees and says, "Patroclus -- spirit of Patroclus, forgive me that I'm not killing the father of your elder, here." And says, "I'm even inclined to let him have the corpse of Hector. I don't know what happens to me. I'm astonished."

And after he has said this prayer, they sit down at meals. And then the poet has the climax of the whole Greek story. And it has happened every year of the life of the Greeks. They sat down, and before they stretched out their hands to -- to get them their food, they look at each other in amazement. In amazement. There you have another word which deviates from "astounding," and "astonishment," and "wonder." And perhaps you -- the word "amazement" is the best word today to tell you what the Greeks have achieved. They amaze us, because they can size up a situation for their uniqueness, for their never have been lived before, and express it.

And this then is humanism, gentlemen, to see with the sense of amazement, with wonder, of astonishment into the ordinary, daily world with the impression that you have never seen it before. The Greeks see the world as though nobody had ever seen it before. That's why they are original, gentlemen. The first man has looked at the world as the Greek poet looks at the world, as though it had never existed before. That's lacking in you, gentlemen. Cultivate it. The Greek mind is the reformed mind who can forgot -- forget what he has known before, and everything you have learned. Never say, "So what?" gentlemen, and you can become a Greek.

({ } your house today?)

No, no. Today don't come. No, leave it. Leave -- wait till Monday. It's better. It's better. And you...

[tape interruption]