Реферат: Excerpts From Joseph Freeman
Semmering mountain in the eastern Alps for our vacation, my parents were busy entertaining
friends and placating enemies. They were a wonderfully devoted couple, as I look back on
them today, I think they are to be envied; but as a child I sometimes secretly resented
their neglect. I will not be angry, doctor, if you tell me that I was somewhat jealous of
my father. [25]
[. . . .]
"If you did not consider it a trifle," I said, "you might be able to
write better poetry. Then, perhaps, you wouldn’t like anyone to censor it."
I’m no Milton, if that’s what you mean."
"If you were, you would fight as hard as he did for the right to utter your
thoughts without that magisterial interference which you find so delightful in
Plato."
I opened the, window and looked out into the deserted street. The skies were dark blue
and clear and there were brilliant stars over the spires of the great, sleeping town. I
began to feel sorry for some of the things I had said. My skepticism, which spared
nothing, spared my own thoughts least of all: How can you belittle a giant like Plato who
tried to find a way to establish justice among unequals? You know damned well that Kurt
submits to the magistrates because he identifies them completely with the best interests
of his community. Isn’t it true that great men of action understand the world of fact
better than the poets, whose province is the world of truth? Only true law perfects the
noblest of dramas. If Kurt knew English history better he might have said to me: how can
you look at Milton and not see the immense figure of Cromwell behind him? For the world of
fact, Cromwell; for the world of truth, Milton. Yes, Milton never submitted his poems to
the censorship of any magistrate and you are asking Kurt to act like a demigod. How many
men could bear the loneliness that went with Milton’s grandeur? The great English
poet had God to lean on. Kurt does not believe in God, and he needs someone to lean on,
someone to resolve his doubts, palliate his sense of guilt with censure, sustain his
self-regard with praise. He leans on Hans Bayer the way I once leaned on my father, Uncle
Peter, Professor Boucher. Upon whom do you lean now? A shadow called Man–a shadow that