Monday morning began in the usual way for Bryce, with a workout along with Curtis and Roland. Then came the evil pleasure of arousing Damon, followed by breakfast and getting ready for class. About a quarter before nine, Bryce left the apartment and Damon, who had another hour before his first class, which he usually used for class preparation.
Arriving at Dumesnil Hall, Bryce encountered Marc Rimbault, as he had asked him to meet before class. There, he delivered an invitation to join him, Damon, and Josh Young for dinner. Having experienced Damon’s dinners, Marc gladly accepted. Bryce wanted to get Marc more involved in campus events which concerned the gay community, and also thought it would be interesting to see how Marc and Josh related.
While they were talking, several of the students who had been present at the study group meeting on Thursday evening were noticed giving them hostile glances. Bryce hoped the disagreement over Moslems would not be another issue he would have to get involved in. After all, there was absolutely nothing any of them could do about the on-going terrorism, and without a serious study of the Koran and the history of Islam, it was also difficult if not impossible to determine whose views were more correct.
In good time, Dr. Pascal Anjot arrived to begin class. Bryce was concerned to note that all those who had walked out of the study group on Thursday were on his side of the classroom, and those who stayed were on the other. In a broad, but by no means exclusive way, this also corresponded to the non-members of the French Club on one side, and members on the other.
Dr. Anjot began by announcing for the day’s class the subject of Voltaire’s work called his Lettres Anglais, or, in a later and expanded version, his Lettres philosophique. After a conflict with a member of the French aristocracy, Guy Auguste de Rohan-Chabot, Voltaire found himself in the Bastille again, and upon his release he was exiled to England in 1726 and stayed for about two years. These letters reflect his impressions of English society, generally laudatory, but also containing the famous complaint that the English were the only nation he knew with dozens of religions but only one sauce. The English translation of the French originals of these essays were published in 1733, which was the intended date for the French version as well, but problems with the censors delayed that until 1734.
No sooner had Dr. Anjot launched into his coverage of Voltaire in England than a student raised his hand and, recognized, asked, “Do you think Voltaire was prejudiced against Moslems?”
The question obviously confused the professor. “I’m sorry,” Dr. Anjot replied, “but I don’t see the connection between today’s topic and your question.”
“It all has to do with Voltaire, doesn’t it?” the student responded.
“If you will consult your syllabus, you will find that we have about two weeks of classes devoted to Voltaire. I think it would be better to consider this issue, if at all, during the class assigned for his Mahomet,” Dr. Anjot said, with obvious irritation in his voice.
“But don’t you agree that Moslems are a friendly and peace-loving people if we only leave them alone, and quit trying to thrust Western ways on them?” another student chimed in.
Dr. Anjot removed his glasses and polished them, giving him a moment to consider his response. “I think you will find, if you consult the University catalogue, that this is a class in French literature. It is not a class in international relations, nor is it a class in comparative religions.”
Marc started to say something, but, remembering the points made by Dr. Caldwell, Bryce restrained him. “Let Dr. Anjot handle this.”
“But Dr. Anjot,” the student insisted, “surely any educated person will agree ….”
This time Dr. Anjot interrupted decisively, slamming a book down on the lectern to demand attention. “No, we will not discuss the content of someone else’s course. We will discuss … or perhaps I should say, I will discuss, the topic on our syllabus, namely, Voltaire’s Lettres philosophiques. If you chose to discuss something else, I think you had best go elsewhere to do so. And, I might add, having spent many years as a member of the academy, I can say there is absolutely nothing that all educated people agree on.”
Dr. Anjot then proceeded to deliver his lecture, pausing only briefly to answer one or two questions from Bryce’s side of the classroom. He finished about ten minutes before the class period ended, but slammed his notebook closed and walked out of the room without waiting for the usual hangers-on to cluster around with comments.
“That was quite a show,” Marc commented. “Did you know how this would turn out? Why did you tell me to let him handle those ideologues?”
“Damon and I had tea with Dr. Caldwell not too long ago. He talked about an organization called AAUP, and the concept of academic freedom. One thing he said was that teachers ought to stick to the topic of a class, and not introduce their personal opinions where they don’t belong. I certainly had no prior knowledge of how this would turn out, or even that the matter would be brought up, but when I heard what Dr. Anjot had to say, I saw the connection. I think it’s pretty obvious Dr. Anjot shares the sentiments expressed by Dr. Caldwell.”
“Maybe I should have accepted that invitation to tea that Annette brought me at the beginning of the semester,” Marc mused.
They split, and Bryce made his way to his class with Dr. Drake. Today, they were dealing with Swift’s satyrical work entitled, A Modest Proposal for Preventing the Children of Poor People from Being a Burthen to Their Parents or Country, and for Making them Beneficial to the Publick, usually referred to simply as A Modest Proposal, published in 1729, about the same time Voltaire was in England. Of course, at this time Swift was not in England, but in Ireland, where he was born, and where he was Dean of St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin. The established Church of Ireland was the Anglican poor relation of the Church of England.
Swift, utilizing the methods of the Roman satirists Horace and Juvenal, begins with what at first appears to be a serious proposal. He describes in moving detail the plight of the Irish poor, but one notes the use of terms usually restricted to animals in his vocabulary. Then, he drops his bombshell, writing, “A young healthy child, well nursed, is, at a year old, a most delicious nourishing and wholesome food, whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled, and I make no doubt it will equally serve as a fricassee, or a ragout.”
He goes on to present detailed analyses of the economic advantages to the country, but admits that the product is such that it will not travel well, and so would most likely find its greatest market among the Irish landlords, “who have already devoured most of the Parents.”
Swift’s irony is an attack on several abuses of the times, the most obvious of which is the exploitation of the Irish peasantry by absentee English landlords. But he also takes telling potshots at those who wrote about the poor with obvious disdain for them, treating them as objects rather than as people. Bryce noted in the margin of his lecture notes that this was the same basis upon which Pope Leo XIII in his encyclical Rerum Novarum of 1891 condemned the exploitation of workers in the capitalist world. Swift also satirized those who sought to deal with the poor, or other human groups, entirely as an arithmetic exercise (Damon’s bane, statistics), or as a matter of economics, leaving out the human dimension.
The problem has been, from the beginning, that Swift was too well educated. Only others who were acquainted with the works of Horace and Juvenal would fully understand his intent, and some took A Modest Proposal as a serious suggestion that infanticide and cannibalism be adopted in Ireland. It was pretty obvious to Bryce that more than one student in the class had also interpreted it that way, based on their questions and comments. One person positively looked daggers at Maddie Manning when she said, “Oh, surely no one would take something like that literally.”
As he prepared to leave the classroom, Bryce was called over by Dr. Drake. When there was no one else around, she extracted a printout from her sheaf of papers, and handed it to him with the comment, “I assume you had something to do with this.”
The printout was addressed to a whole list of faculty members under the heading: Called Meeting of the Faculty Senate for Tuesday, October 26. The brief paragraph noted that the attached study had come to the attention of the Senate officers, who thought the entire Senate should consider it before taking any action. The attached study was, of course, the analysis of the blog ‘Aryans Forever’ by Hunter Matthews, with numerous references to specifics in the text of the blog itself.
Bryce smiled. “Guilty as charged,” he admitted. “One of the pledges of Sigma Alpha Tau told us about the blog, which pretty clearly identifies the author as among those who beat up the campus demonstrators back nearly two weeks ago. I hope, by the way, he was never a student in one of your classes, as the writing is barely literate. We got the blog analyzed, which showed that it was sent from the computer of a student here at the University. We gave copies to Dr. Dickinson and campus security last Thursday, and also sent copies, under a fake name, to the President and the Vice-President for Student Affairs.”
Dr. Drake took a moment to digest this. Then, returning the printout to her stack of papers, she commented, “When you graduate, it’s going to be very dull around here.” With that, she walked out, leaving Bryce with his mouth agape. Then he began to laugh, and had trouble stifling his outbursts.
On his way to the library to do some work on Jonathan Swift, Bryce encountered Annette Rimbault. It was a brief passage between classes, but she did tell him that she had secured permission to include her interview of Greg Lenihan in the Wednesday issue of The Clifton Courier, the campus newspaper. Something more to look forward to.
An hour later, Bryce met Damon in the cafeteria. On cool days, really from now until April, it would be too uncomfortable to eat outside on the patio, and the food court in the basement was, as a result, far too crowded for conversation, so they selected the regular lunch line in the cafeteria. Damon started in, as was only to be expected, complaining about his Political Theory class, which he had just left. They were still on Marx, and would be for a while. That reminded Bryce of his note about Swift.
“Hey, I found out that Marx was neither as original as Josh seems to think, nor alone in his criticism of exploitation and laissez faire economics,” Bryce informed his partner.
“You’re not going to confuse me with foreign terms. By ‘lazy fair’ you mean big business, right?” Damon drawled.
Bryce laughed at Damon’s pose as a country bumpkin. But quickly passing on from that, he recounted what he had just learned from Dr. Drake about Jonathan Swift’s criticism of cure-all solutions to complex problems, such as abolishing private property in Marx’s case, or treating people as commodities, as in the case of most social reformers, much less entrepreneurs. Then, he noted the similarities with Leo XIII’s Rerum Novarum. Damon actually made a few notes, especially of these sources, which might come in handy on an exam.
As Damon departed to his Spanish class, Bryce again turned his attention to his own classes. At 2:00 he would have his Medieval England class, and the syllabus called for coverage of the Black Death at this point in the semester. Bryce completed his preparation by finishing the work by Robert S. Gottfried, The Black Death: Natural and Human Disaster in Medieval Europe, which he found very well written. During this hour, he finished Gottfried’s Epilogue, entitled “Europe’s Environmental Crisis,” which sounded very contemporary. Then, he turned to 1066 and All That to see what Messrs. Sellar and Yeatman had to say on the subject. Somewhat to his surprise, he found no mention of the Black Death, even though it wiped out a third of the population of England between 1348 and 1351. This was still the time of King Edward III, who was busy claiming the French throne and founding the Order of the Garter. Presumably, the Black Death was not memorable.
Meeting Dr. Dickinson in the corridor before class, Bryce mentioned the absence of mention in the ‘only memorable history of England.’ Dickinson responded with the observation that it was difficult to be humorous about mass death and destruction.
In class, Dr. Dickinson first set the stage. By 1300 Western Europe in general had reached about the greatest population the essentially agricultural economy of the time could support. Population had been steadily increasing for about 500 years at this point. Marginal soils were being farmed, and poverty among the peasantry was increasing. This same time saw climate change. Europe had enjoyed a milder climate for about that same 500 years, but around 1300 began what is called ‘the Little Ice Age,’ when things began to get colder. This is seen in growth of glaciers in the Alps, for example, and in shorter growing seasons, as recorded in monastic estate records. This, in turn resulted in a more poorly fed peasantry, so they were ill prepared when disaster struck.
What was called the Black Death was a combination of what we now call bubonic plague with pneumonic plague and septicaemic plague. The plague virus is evidently endemic in several regions of the globe. In this case, it originated in the Gobi Desert region, where climate change sent rats out of their usual habitats, spreading the disease in the process. The rats carried fleas, and the fleas carried the virus. They traveled west on the caravan routes, but, Dr. Dickinson noted in a side comment, the plague also devastated China and India. It reached the eastern Mediterranean in the mid 1340s, and was first recorded in the West with the arrival on Sicily of a Genoese ship from the Crimea in 1347. By the fall of 1348 it reached England.
Bubonic plague was spread by the fleas which traveled on the rats. If one were bitten by the fleas, the virus entered the bloodstream. After a period of about six days, it appeared as buboes and subcutaneous bleeding, especially in the underarms and groin, leading to the formation of black spots under the skin, hence the name. This hemorrhaging soon affected the nervous system, causing the victim to jerk and twist in odd ways, leading to the phenomenon known as the Dance of Death. About 60% of those affected died. The pneumonic version of the plague occurred when the virus infected the lungs, so the disease could be spread by coughing or spitting on another person. This form of the plague was much more efficient, being lethal in about three days. The septicaemic version was when large doses of the virus entered directly into the bloodstream, perhaps through an open wound. In a matter of hours, a rash appeared, and within a day the victim was dead. This form of the plague was almost 100% lethal.
None of this was known to the people at the time, of course. Basically, they had no idea what was happening to them. People were dying all over the place, for no known reason. As usual, when people do not know what is causing a major disaster like this, they panic. And, as usual, they blamed their problems on unpopular minorities. On the continent, there were severe outbreaks of pogroms against the Jews, while belief in and persecution of those thought to be witches intensified across the West. It was not just a one-time affair. In what is called the pestis secunda, it came back in the 1370s, and then again and again for centuries. Each visitation was less severe, more restricted, but it would not go away. The last significant outbreak of plague in England was that in London recorded by Daniel Defoe in his Journal of the Plague Year, not published until 1722, but recording experiences of the year 1665. Dr. Dickinson noted that it was interesting that the burning of witches really began in earnest after the first outbreak in 1348, and the last execution for witchcraft in the British Isles took place in Scotland in 1717. The persecution of Jews was not a major event in English history at this time, for the simple reason that there were no Jews in England, at least legally. King Edward I had expelled all Jews in 1290, and legally they were not allowed back until the reign of Charles II, also in the 1660s, although Jews were allowed to actually return, with no legal guarantees, several years earlier under Cromwell in return for significant financial contributions.
The population of England and Wales dropped between 1300 and 1400 from 3.75 million to 2.5 million, representing the loss of about a third of the population. This loss was unevenly distributed. The hardest hit places were, of course, the centers of population, the towns. Sparsely settled regions suffered proportionally less. For example, Scotland, with few towns of any size, dropped from 500,000 to 400,000, or about a 20% loss. It was also noted that, whereas the general population suffered about a 33% loss, the clergy suffered a loss in the range of 44%. This made sense, in that one of the duties of priests was to administer the last rites to the sick and dying. Ironically, those who took their obligations seriously were more likely to die.
All this had an immense impact on medieval society. Essentially, from this point on, nothing worked properly. Landlords wanted the same income from fewer peasants, leading to harsh relationships, and frequent peasant revolts over the next few centuries. With the great losses among the clergy, to fill the slots individuals were ordained who were far from well qualified, and most of the gains made in the quality and education of the clergy during the previous several centuries were lost. Nobles felt threatened, economically and socially, and began to close ranks, making it harder for non-nobles to advance in society. This era saw the first appearance of the figure known as the Grim Reaper, a skeleton in a monk’s habit carrying a scythe. It witnessed the epitaph of the Black Prince in Canterbury Cathedral, reading (in French) “Such as thou art, so once was I. As I am now, so shalt thou be.” This is the era when the word ‘macabre’ first appears. The subtitle of the 1978 classic by Barbara Tuchman says it all: A Distant Mirror: the Calamitous 14th Century.
Dr. Dickinson departed, leaving a much more somber set of students then when he arrived.
Again Bryce spent his time between appointments studying. In this case, he was studying that ‘calamitous 14th century,’ of which Tuchman wrote, and determined to read that entire book, and perhaps even acquire a copy. After all, Dr. Dickinson did describe it as a classic. As class broke up, Marc Rimbault started to make some comment, but then just shook his head and walked off. Roland accompanied Bryce to the SAT house, where he was lent Bryce’s copy of the Gottfried book, while Bryce researched the Black Death on line. Bryce took advantage of the opportunity to invite Roland to join him, Damon, Marc, and Josh for dinner and discussion.
At four o’clock, Bryce had his standing appointment with the campus chaplain, Father Miller. Their last meeting, two weeks ago, had been when the priest had more or less told Bryce to rein in his pride, and be more understanding of where others were coming from. Since then, he had attempted to carry out that admonition, but he hoped this session would be more positive.
At the Newman Center, Bryce was greeted by Patricia Murphy, the receptionist.
“I don’t see you as much as I used to,” she complained. “I’m getting the impression you don’t enjoy our company.”
“My dentist could say the same thing,” Bryce replied.
She peered at him closely. “Oh, my! Somebody’s on a downer.”
“Sorry. Not your fault. Most of the day went pretty well, but we covered the Black Death in Medieval England,” Bryce explained.
“Well, if it was in medieval England, I think you’re pretty safe here this afternoon,” Patricia logically decided.
Bryce smiled. She always had that impact on him, even when she left him screaming at some of her statements.
“That’s better,” Patricia said. “Now don’t you go depressing Father. He’s got enough problems.”
“Oh? Anything special?” Bryce asked.
“This morning he had a suicidal student to counsel, and this afternoon, right after lunch, a panicky female who was thinking of aborting her child. Two possible deaths in one day. That’s enough to overload anyone’s circuits,” she informed him.
“Geez! I’ll try not to cause any problems,” Bryce promised.
Only a couple of minutes after four, the door opened, and Father Miller emerged with another student whom he had been counseling. As seemed to be the usual ritual, they shook hands, and the priest said, “I’ll see you next week. If anything comes up between now and then, contact me, okay?”
“Sure, Father,” the student answered, and departed.
Father Miller turned toward the reception desk and Bryce. He looked at both Bryce and Patricia closely. “Why do I have the feeling that I was being talked about?”
“Maybe because you were,” Bryce said, as he smiled and shook hands.
When they were settled, Bryce asked, “Why does God permit natural disasters?”
“Where does that come from?” Father Miller asked.
“In my Medieval England class, Dr. Dickinson covered the Black Death,” Bryce replied.
“I see. Well, we talked about this some last year, you may recall,” the chaplain reminded the student.
“Yeah, but I remember mainly talking about human disasters. You know, murders, abuse, warfare, and the like. I don’t remember anything about natural disasters. I see where preventing bad consequences from human actions would infringe on our free will, but I don’t see how that applies to natural disasters,” Bryce complained. “And I do recall something along the lines that if God jumped in every few seconds to prevent things like plagues, earthquakes, and hurricanes, there would be no predictability and hence no basis for science. But why did God make the laws of nature that way in the first place?”
Father Miller took some time to reply. “Some of the great mystics, not only in Christianity, but also in other religions, have posited the idea that in some way the spiritual and the physical worlds are linked. They indicate that our sins, the evils we do to each other, in some way we don’t quite grasp, have an impact on the world in which we live, not only on the human world, but on the physical world as well.”
Bryce looked at the priest very hard. After a moment, he gave a sigh. “In other words, you don’t know either.”
That was followed by a moment of silence, and then Father Miller burst out laughing. Bryce quickly joined in.
“I guess I just have to accept that there are some things I don’t understand,” Bryce concluded.
Father responded, “That’s a good lesson in practical humility, for both of us. Speaking of which …”
And so, for most of the hour, Bryce discussed his efforts to be less assertive in his discussions with his friends, more willing to listen to their ideas and, as he put it, “less of a stuffy prig.”
Father Miller summed up that part of the session. “I think you have taken my admonition to heart, and have done a marvelous job with it, Bryce. It’s seldom that I get such satisfying results.”
“Before we break up,” Bryce said, “I heard a story from my friend David Simpson that I have to share with you. We talked about him before. He’s the guy with the fundamentalist mother who cannot accept that her son is gay, and basically has consigned him to eternal perdition. Anyway, his brother related this story about an incident at their mother’s church.” Bryce then told the story about the little girl asking her mother, “What’s butt dust?”
Both Father Miller and Bryce were laughing heartily when they exited the conference room. Father found another student waiting for him, and so was soon back inside. Patricia beckoned Bryce over to her station. When he was close enough, she grabbed him, and kissed him. “Thanks,” she said.