THE DEMIGOD AND THE PROPHET

At the first meeting of one of the elementary science courses last week, the class was given a definition of science, not merely as classified knowledge, but as truth itself. What makes this seem slightly disconcerting is that there were undoubtedly on the same day numerous statements that English, French and German literature (classical or romantic), philosophy, the arts of form and music, respectively, were the most durable representations of the ultimate verities. Despite this curious disparity there was no evident bewilderment among the listeners. They seemed to accept the various views with a fine philosophical impartiality that might be expressed in a paraphrase of Whitman: "The professors contradict themselves? Very well, they contradict themselves."

It is futile to protest against the conflict in the points of view of lectures in different fields. As a matter of fact disagreement on fundamentals ought to be welcomed as the most effective stimulus to an honest attempt to solve real problems. Difference of opinion on university platforms has this significance for every undergraduate. It means that he must face the task of formulating for himself from various sources some unified philosophy of his own. It is up to him to decide how much the traditional humanistic ways of thought and how much the newer techniques of science will supply grist for his philosophical mill. That he finds one more palatable than another need not force him to reject either entirely.

Confronted with a less profound problem than the claims to truth of science or of art, Herman Melville once exclaimed: "By the best contradictory authorities, this Grecian story of Hercules and the whale is considered to be derived from the Hebrew story of Jonah; and vice versa . . . If I claim the demigod, then, why not the prophet?"