10. According to Plato, Locke, Berkeley, where would the sweetness of a
honeycomb reside? Where would its shape? its weight? Where do you think
these properties reside?
Ten questions, and no Epicharmos of Kos. But no examination paper asks
everything, and this one did ask a good deal. Bertie and Billy wrote the
full time allotted, and found that they could have filled an hour more
without coming to the end of their thoughts. Comparing notes at lunch,
their information was discovered to have been lacking here and there.
Nevertheless, it was no failure; their inner convictions were sure of
fifty per cent at least, and this was all they asked of the gods. “I
was ripping about the ego,” said Bertie. “I was rather splendid myself,”
said Billy, “when I got going. And I gave him a huge steer about
memory.” After lunch both retired to their beds and fell into sweet
oblivion until seven o’clock, when they rose and dined, and after
playing a little poker went to bed again pretty early.
Some six mornings later, when the Professor returned their papers to
them, their minds were washed almost as clear of Plato and Thales as
were their bodies of yesterday’s dust. The dates and doctrines, hastily
memorized to rattle off upon the great occasion, lay only upon the
surface of their minds, and after use they quickly evaporated. To their
pleasure and most genuine astonishment, the Professor paid them high
compliments. Bertie’s discussion of the double personality had been
the most intelligent which had come in from any of the class. The
illustration of the intoxicated hack-driver who had fallen from his hack
and inquired who it was that had fallen, and then had pitied himself,
was, said the Professor, as original and perfect an illustration of our
subjective-objectivity as he had met with in all his researches. And
Billy’s suggestions concerning the inherency of time and space in
the mind the Professor had also found very striking and independent,
particularly his reasoning based upon the well-known distortions of time
and space which hashish and other drugs produce in us. This was the sort
of thing which the Professor had wanted from his students: free comment
and discussions, the spirit of the course, rather than any strict
adherence to the letter. He had constructed his questions to elicit
as much individual discussion as possible and had been somewhat
disappointed in his hopes.
Yes, Bertie and Billy were astonished. But their astonishment did not
equal that of Oscar, who had answered many of the questions in the
Professor’s own language. Oscar received seventy-five per cent for this
achievement--a good mark. But Billy’s mark was eighty-six and Bertie’s
ninety. “There is some mistake,” said Oscar to them when they told him;
and he hastened to the Professor with his tale. “There is no mistake,”
said the Professor. Oscar smiled with increased deference. “But,” he
urged, “I assure you, sir, those young men knew absolutely nothing. I
was their tutor, and they knew nothing at all. I taught them all their
information myself.” “In that case,” replied the Professor, not pleased
with Oscar’s tale-bearing, “you must have given them more than you could
spare. Good morning.”
Oscar never understood. But he graduated considerably higher than Bertie
and Billy, who were not able to discover many other courses so favorable
to “orriginal rresearch” as was Philosophy 4. That is twenty years ago,
To-day Bertie is treasurer of the New Amsterdam Trust Company, in Wall
Street; Billy is superintendent of passenger traffic of the New York
and Chicago Air Line. Oscar is successful too. He has acquired a lot
of information. His smile is unchanged. He has published a careful work
entitled “The Minor Poets of Cinquecento,” and he writes book reviews
for the Evening Post.