Ptolemy's Maltese Co-ordinates: A Re assessment - Frank Ventura On Inspiration - Michael Zammit The Philosophical Problem in Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment - Paul Spiteri ~ Purgation in Plato and Dante - Charles Briffa Jfhe Heritage of Rome - Louis J. Scerri The Mediterranean Story-Telling Sailor: Odysseus and Sinbad - Peter Serracino Inglott General and Analytic Indexes Vols I - V Main Library
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Volume V 1988 Number 6 CONTENTS Ptolemy's Maltese co-ordinates: A re-assessment Frank Ventura ...... , ...... 253 On Inspiration Michael Zammit ...... 270 The Philosophical Problem in Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment Paul Spiteri ...... 273 Purgation in Plato and Dante Charles Briffa ...... 281 The Heritage of Rome Lous 1. Scerri ...... : ...... 285 The Mediterranean Story-Telling Sailor: Odysseus and Sinbad Peter Serracino Inglott ...... 289 Author and Analytical Title Indexes Vols I - IV Gwann Azzopardi ...... 300 © Hyphen
Cover picture: Detail of a 1490 map based on Ptolemy's co-ordinates showing the central Mediterranean area including the Maltese Islands (see article by F. Ventura pp. 253 -271). PTOLEMY'S MALTESE CO-ORDINATES A Reassessment Frank Ventura
MONG the writers of classical antiquity that mention Malta one finds A Claudius Ptolemaeus better known as Ptolemy. 1 He refers to five specific locations in the Maltese Islands for which he gives geographical co-ordinates2 (Table 1). Table 1
Ptolemy's co-ordinates Modern co-ordinates Location longitude latitude longitude latitude
Gaulos island and city 38 20 34 40 14 14.4 36 02.8 Melite island and city 38 45 34 40 14 24.3 35 53.2 Chersonesos city 38 40 34 45 Juno sanctuary 39 00 34 40 14 33.2 35 50.8 Hercules sanctuary 38 45 34 35
I. Ptolemy, born in c. AD 90 in Greece, spent most of his life in Alexandria. He certainly made astronomical observations between AD 127 and 145, and possibly up to 151. Arabian tradition claims that he died at the age of 78. 1 The geographical co-ordinates given here are taken from C. Muller. Claudii Prolemaei Geographia, Vol. I. (Paris. 1883) which was considered as the most reliable of the four editions of Ptolemy's work that were consulted. Other earlier editions contain significant differences in the co-ordinates, and in the name of one of the sites which is given as Chersonesos. meaning peninsula, and not as Chersonesos city. In this respect, it should be added that O. A. W. Dilke is of the opinion that in Ptolemy's Geography, the Greek word polis tends to mean any sort of settlement (see O. A. W. Dilke, Greek and Roman Maps (lthaca, N.Y., 1985),207. n. 20). Thus the Greek Chersonesos polis could be translated as the settlement at Chersonesos rather than as the city or town of Chersonesos. The co-ordinate which differs consistently from that given by Muller is the latitude of the sanctuary of Hercules. It is given as 34 0 25' in all the three other edition~.c0l!su'ted, namely Octo Libri Ptolemei, 1490; C. Ptolemaeus, Auctus Restitutus Emacul~t~~~2{)~ ~),9i.o. Malombra. La Geografia di Claudio Tolomeo, 1574. //.'~''''. \':~;" HYPHEN. Vol. V. Number 6 ! ,~] -~~\ S) ; .' ~4t,·"lT .;.N$I;r., I ... , _"".-.\.~~i '\ ) \~-'" /,-~; 254 FRANK VENTURA
From this reference it appears that, provided Ptolemy's information is correct,3 an understanding of his co-ordinate system and its relationship to the modern system should enable the identification of the locations with specific sites on the islands. The identification of the cities of Melite and Gaulos with Mdina/Rabat and the Gozo Citadel/Rabat respectively, and the proof by archaeological excavation that the Juno sanctuary was sited at Tas-Silg4, provide further information which can be used to locate the other two sites. The purpose of this paper is to explain the context of Ptolemy's system of geographical co-ordinates and to show how the co-ordinates of the Maltese sites can be used to obtain an approximate location of Chersonesos and the sanctuary dedicated to Hercules.
The General Context The co-ordinates mentioned above are found in Ptolemy's eight-volume work Geagraphike Huphegesis variously translated as Guide to Geography, Geographical Directory, or Cosmography but more popularly known simply as Geography. Book I contains an extensive introduction in which Ptolemy discusses his purpose and similar work by Marinus of TyreS previously. He then proposes two methods for drawing a better map of the inhabited world, the oikoumene. Books II to VII contain lists of longitudes and latitudes of cities, sanctuaries, and other important geographical features such as islands, mountains, volcanoes, promontories, and river mouths. The books deal separately with Europe, the Mediterranean, Africa, the Middle East, Arabia, India, and Indochina. The Maltese localities are mentioned in the last sel:tion of chapter 1lI in Book IV, which deals with Africa. Along with Pantelleria, the Maltese Islands are referred
3. In this paper it is assumed that Ptolemy's information about five different sites is essentially correct. However, it should be noted that doubts about the separate identities of the sanctuaries of J uno and Hercules have been cast by H. C. R. Vella and H. O. Hvidberg-Hansen who both suggest that that the sanctuary at Tas-Silg may have been dedicated not only to Juno but also to Hercules referring to Melqan. the Phoenician god, and not to the Graeco-Roman Hercules. Refer to H. C. R. Vella, The Earliest Description of Ma/ta (Lyons 1536) (Malta, 1980) 55, n. 91; H. C. R. Vella, 'Quintinus (1536) and the temples of Juno and Hercules in Malta', Athenaeum, LX (\982). I -H. 273 -276. See also the papers by H. O. Hvidberg-Hansen and H. C. R. Vella in A. Bonanno (ed.). Archaeology and Fertility Cult in the Ancient Mediterranean (Amsterdam, 1986). 4. Cagiano de Azevedo, M. (ed.), Missione archeologica a Ma/ta. Rapporto preliminare della campagna 1963 (Roma, 1964). 5. All we know about Marinus of Tyre and his treatise, which is now lost, is based on Ptolemy's reference to him. Marinus' work takes into account conditions based on events as late as AD 107 but ignores changes which took place between AD 114 and 116. PTOLEMY'S MALTESE CO-ORDINATES 255 to as pelagic islands off the coast of Africa. Finally Book VIII consists mainly of 26 maps6 and a list of 356 important cities, including Melite, with the maximum number of daylight hours on the longest day and the difference in hours between local time and the time at Alexandria for each city. These last two parameters were the traditional measures of latitude and longitude respectively used by the Babylonians and by other geographers before Marinus and Ptolemy. The inclusion of these parameters has been interpreted as an attempt to assuage traditional geographers since in Geography Ptolemy makes a complete break with tradition. In fact it has been stated that after this work, geography took on an entirely new character which persisted up to modern times. 7
Two projections In Book I Ptolemy makes it clear that his intention is to find a method to project positions on a sphere onto a plane so as to produce as far as possible an undistorted map of the world. He goes on to discuss the work of Marinus of Tyre, the latest geographer of his time to tackle the same problem. With some modifications, Ptolemy accepts Marinus' geographical co-ordinates which were obtained carefully from travellers, merchants, and military itineraries but he rejects his method of making a map of the world using orthogonal co-ordinates and which practically amounts to a cylindrical projection. With this projection, distances on all meridians and on the parallel of Rhodes (latitude 36°), which Marinus uses as his base, appear on the same scale and undistorted but distances in longitude between the equator and the parallel of Rhodes are foreshortened and increasingly enlarged north of it. This can be seen by reference to figure la which shows six locations (a.b.c,d,e,f) on part of a sphere, and to figure lb which shows a map with orthogonal co-ordinates like that proposed by Marinus. The distances a-c, c-e, a-e on one meridian and b-d, d-f, b-f on another meridian on the sphere are represented on the same scale and undistorted on the map. However, the longitudinal distances a-b, c-d, e-f are distorted, because if c-d on the map is taken to be on the same scale as that distance on the sphere, then the distance a-b on the map is larger than it actually is on the sphere, and e-f on the map is shorter than it should be. Similarly it can be shown that all longitudinal distances above and below the latitude containing c and d are distorted on the map. Ptolemy then describes two methods which can be used to map the known
6. Some versions of Ptolemy's work give 64 smaller maps rather than 26. O. Neugebauer, A History of Ancient Mathematical Astronomy (Berlin, 1975), 940. 7. Neugebauer, 934. 256 FRANK VENTURA
Figure la. Part of a sphere with six locations marked (a, b, c, d, e, f).
Figure Ih. Map with orthogonal co-ordinates as suggested by -+----~----+.:::a:..---_1>.:b=---_1r_---_t Marinus showing the six locations of fig. la.
c d
e t
H
Figure 1 c. Map with co-ordinates following Ptolemy's first projection showing the six locations of fig. la. PTOLEMY'S MALTESE CO-ORDINATES 257 inhabited world and which are a great improvement on the method used by Marinus. As boundaries of the inhabited world Ptolemy accepts the parallel of the island of Thule (latitude 63°), in the north, and the parallel below the equator at latitude - 16 ° 25 ' , in the south. 8 The extension in longitude is taken as 180 ° with the western boundary on the longitude passing through the Fortunate Islands (the present day Canary and Madeira groups of islands) and the eastern boundary in China. Following Marinus, Ptolemy takes the extent of one degree in longitude at the equator as 500 stades as determined by Posidonius9 rather than the more accurate 700 stades per degree found earlier by Eratosthenes. 1O Therefore, according to Ptolemy, the extent of the inhabited world at the equator is 90,000 stades. Using these values, Ptolemy sets up a framework consisting of three arcs north of the equator (see fig. 1c), another arc below the equator, all representing the parallels of selected latitudes, and straight lines representing the lines of longitude or meridians. The dimensions of the arcs he draws are as follows:
Latitude Radius of arc Half arc length 63° (Thule) QB = 52 40 36° (Rhodes) QC = 79 72 0° (Equator) QH = 115 90 -16° 25' QK = 131.416 86.33
These values are calculated by Ptolemy to satisfy two conditions: (a) that the distances on all meridians are all on the same scale, and (b) that the ratio of the distances on the parallel of Thule and the equator should be constant. The fact that these conditions are satisfied can be easily confirmed by checking first of all that the difference between any two radii is equal to the difference in latitude between them (for example QC - QB = 79 - 52 = 27 which is the difference in latitude between Thule and Rhodes); secondly, that the ratio 52: 115 = cos 63 ° : cos 90° so that the distances on the parallel of Thule and the equator are
8. Thule is probably today's Iceland which lies between latitude 63 0 24' and 66 0 32' . The latitude -160 25' is referred to as Anti-Meroe meaning symmetrical to Meroe but south of the Equator. Meroe, now a city in Sudan, was originally Egyptian and it became the capital of the Nubian Kingdom in about 300 BC. 9. Posidonius (135-50 BC) found a method for determining the size of the Earth by means of the altitudes of stars observed from different locations. 10. Eratosthenes (276-194 BC), born in Cyrene, North Africa, studied in Athens and became librarian in Alexandria where he lived for about 60 years. He is renowned for an accurate determination of the size of the Earth using the Sun's shadow at two different locations. 258 FRANK VENTURA
/
K
Figure 2a. Pto\emy's first projection.
Figure 2b. Pto\emy's second projection. PTOLEMY'S MALTESE CO-ORDINATES 259 in the correct ratio with respect to one another. Referring to figure 1c, this means that the ratio of the distances a-b: e-f is the same both on the sphere and on the map. As already mentioned, besides the arcs, the framework is made up of straight lines originating from the focal point, Q in figure 2a. These lines divide the whole figure into 36 equal segments of 50 each. The final result is practically a conic projection for the part of the figure north of the equator. South of the equator, Ptolemy introduced a discontinuity by making the part between the equator and the latitude of -160 25' symmetrical with its northern counterpart rather than continuing with the conic projection which would have resulted in a continuous distortion of longitudinal distances in this region. Not content with this projection, Ptolemy proposes a second framework based on three arcs representing the parallels of Thule (latitude 63 0), Syene (latitude 23 0 50'), and the southern boundary of the oikoumene (latitude - 16 0 25 '). He also draws the lines of longitude as approximately circular arcs obtained by joining points of the same longitude on the parallels of latitude. 11 The end product (figure 2b) bears a closer resemblance to a part of a sphere and should therefore result in a more faithful representation of the oikoumene than the first projection. However, as Ptolemy predicts,12 the first method was more often employed by later geographers because its grid is much easier to construct. Using the first projection and the geographical co-ordinates given in Books II to VIII, a map of the oikoumene can be constructed, as in figure 3. As can be seen from the map, the continental lands and islands around the Mediterranean Sea have a similar outline to the one with which we are familiar today. Further east and to the north, however, the outline and relative sizes of various countries are less familiar. Thus, for example, the island of Taprobane (present day Sri Lanka) is disproportionately large when compared to India, whose familiar triangular outline is missing. Similarly, to the north, the outline of Scotland and its size compared to England and Wales, are both very different from modern representations. These and other inaccuracies do not arise because of the projection adopted, which is essentially valid, but because of the inaccurate geographic co ordinates provided by or deduced from travellers' tales. Looking more closely at the Mediterranean region, which presumably was the most-travelled and best-known in those days, it is evident that its extent in longitude from the straits of Gibraltar to the shore of Lebanon is given as 600. However, modern values show that this extent is only 40 0. Other similar comparisons with
11. For an explanation of Ptolemy's mathematical derivation of both projections, see Neugebauer, VB 4, 2 and 3, 880-885. 12. C. Ptolemaeus, Geographike Huphegesis, I, 24. 260 FRANK VENTURA PTOLEMY'S MALTESE CO-ORDINATES 261 modern values show that longitudinal distances are, in general, one-and-a-half times the presently accepted values. This systematic error arises mainly because of the inaccurate value of 500 stades per degree of longitude adopted by Ptolemy.13 That large errors in the measurement of longitude should exist in Ptolemy's days is not surprising since such a measurement requires knowledge of precise astronomical data regarding the sun, the moon, and the stars; an accurate chronometer; and an established system of time measurement. These requirements were not available then and navigators had to wait for over 1,500 years until the establishment of Greenwich observatory which was dedicated to finding a solution to the problem of determining longitude at sea,14 and for the production of accurate clocks. Less expected are errors in latitude since this parameter can be easily derived say from the length of a shadow at noon on any particular day, a method which was well-known to Ptolemy. Except for a few places such as the cities on the eastern coast of Sicily whose latitudes are given with reasonable accuracy, 15 the latitudes of most places in the Mediterranean are in error by about one degree. The occurrence of such errors indicates that few geographical co-ordinates were actually measured.
The Maltese co-ordinates Armed with this background about Ptolemy's system of co-ordinates, it is now
13. Ptolemy mentions one check of longitudinal distances in Book I, chapter 4. This refers to the lunar eclipse of20 September 330 BC preceeding the battle of Arbela (present day Erbil or Khurbet Irbil on the river Tigris). The eclipse was also observed from Carthage with an estimated difference of three hours in local time. Actually. using the modern longitudes of Arbela and Carthage the difference is equivalent to only two hours fifteen minutes. This inaccurate observation is consistent with Ptolemy's systematic error in longitudinal distances. It should be noted that the method of estimating longitudinal distances by observing lunar eclipses at two or more stations should yield quite accurate measurements. However, it seems that it was not used frequently and, in any case, in those days the timing accuracy was about 30 minutes, equivalent to seven and a half degrees of longitude. About the accuracy of timing see R. R. Newton, 'Two uses of ancient Astronomy', Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society ofLondon, A 276 (1974), 99-116. 14. The Royal Greenwich Observatory was instituted in 1675 by King Charles 1I who commanded the first Astronomer Royal to apply himself' ... with the utmost care and diligence to the rectifying of the tables of the motions of the heavens, and the places of the fixed stars. in order to find the so much desired longitude at sea, for the perfecting of the art of navigation'. C. ~. Ronan (ed.), Greenwich Observatory 300 years of Astronomy, (London, 1975), 17. 15. Ptolemy's latitudes for Syracuse, Catania, Taormina, and Messina are 3r, 3r 40' , 37 ° 45' , and 38° 10' while the modern values are 37° 04',37° 31',37° 51', and 38° 12' r~on~"t;",~1 For these locations the average error is only slightly more than 5 minutes of arc. 262 FRANK VENTURA
iD------; I I I I
______JI ,------, r------, I I I I I I I
I I I I L ______~
I 1.I ______...1I
Figure 4. Map of the Maltese Islands with Ptolemy's positions of the city of Melite (M), the city of Gaulos (G), the city of Chersonesos (X), the sanctuary of Juno (1), the sanctuary of Hercules (H). and their respective error boxes (see text) after correction for the systematic stretching in longitude.
possible to discuss his geographical co-ordinates of the five Maltese sites in more detail. First of all, considering the differences in longitude between the known sites one can check whether the systematic 'stretching' in longitude, so evident in Ptolemy's map, also applies to the small scale of the Maltese islands. Table 2 lists the differences in longitude between the known sites as given by Ptolemy and as found by modern methods. PTOLEMY'S MALTESE CO-ORDINATES 263
Table 2 Localities Difference in longitude 'Stretching' in minutes of arc factor Ptolemy Modern
Gaulos city - Melite city 25 9.9 2.53 Melite city - lunG sanctuary 15 8.9 1.69 Gaulos city - lunG sanctuary 40 18.8 2.13
From the table it is clear that Ptolemy's distances reflect the general stretching observed for the whole Mediterranean region. In this case, however, the longitudinal distances are, on average, twice as large as the modern values and the stretching factor, obtained by dividing Ptolemy's values with the modern ones, varies widely from one place to another. When considering differences in latitude between the various places mentioned by Ptolemy, one comes up against two distinct problems. First of all Ptolemy shows no difference in latitude between Gaulos city, Melite city, and the sanctuary of Juno while in fact significant differences exist. Because of this discrepancy, if one were to follow Ptolemy's latitudes after correcting for the stretching in longitude, the Gozo citadel would be placed in the sea well west of Mdina and the Juno sanctuary in the Grand Harbour area (see figure 4). The latter observation could well have been the reason that led Quintinus to wrongly identify some ruins he had seen between Fort St Angelo and Vittoriosa with the sanctuary of Juno. 16 The second difficulty concerns the latitude of the sanctuary of Hercules which Ptolemy puts on the same longitude as the city of Melite. Now, from the difference in latitude between Chersonesos and the sanctuary of Hercules which Ptolemy gives as 10 minutes of arc and which corresponds roughly to the width of Malta, one can infer that Ptolemy means to put the two sites on opposite coasts of the island, one to the north-northwest of Melite city and the other directly to its south. However, when the latitudes of these sites are considered separately with respect to Mdina, while Chersonesos falls in Mellieha Bay, the sanctuary of Hercules falls in the sea close to the island of Filfla. This does not mean that Ptolemy's latitude of the sanctuary of Hercules is entirely wrong. It is sufficient to note that the 5 minutes of arc distance between Melite and the sanctuary of Hercules is the smallest fraction of a degree that he uses throughout his work. Even if the distance were smaller, it would still have been given as 5 minutes or one twelfth of a degree since Ptolemy must have been aware that the reported co-ordinates
16. H. C. R. Vella (1980), 23. 264 FRANK VENTURA could not be more accurate than that. Indeed it is important to note that that the geographical co-ordinates of the Maltese sites are all given to the nearest 5 minutes of arc which shows that Ptolemy allows for an error of this order of magnitude. By analogy one can imagine a man with an accurate clock whose dial only has five-minute markers. Anybody asking this man for the correct time and getting the answer, say, 25 minutes past the hour, would not be sure whether the precise time is 23 minutes past the hour which has been given as 25 minutes past or whether it is 27 minutes past instead. In such a case, the precise time could be within two minutes either way of the 25 minutes given as the correct time. Imagine now that the clock itself works inaccurately. If it goes fast or slow at a known regular rate a correction can be applied for this systematic error and the precise time would still be within two minutes either way of the corrected time. But, if the person giving the time reads the clock carelessly or the clock works irregularly, the error in the stated time would be random and it would probably be much more than two minutes either way. Applying this analogy to geographical co-ordinates and considering the difficulties encountered in the determination of the longitude of a place in Ptolemy' s time. and the smaller difficulties in determining the latitude, the errors in Ptolemy's co-ordinates must be at least 5 minutes of arc either way of the stated longitude and 2.5 minutes of arc either way of the stated latitude. Therefore, at best, Ptolemy's co-ordinates can locate a site within an error box having a length of 10 minutes and a width of 5 minutes of arc. However, even after correcting for the known stretching in longitude 17 and considering the error boxes mentioned, Gaulos city would still be located in the sea and the Tas-Silg site would still not be within the Juno sanctuary error box (see figure 4).
A corrected version Having identified the main difficulties encountered when trying to use Ptolemy's co-ordinates, it is tempting to make other corrections besides that for systematic error in longitude in order to overcome the problems already mentioned and to locate the unknown sites within a specific area, however large. A satisfactory result is obtained if three corrections are applied in the following order:
(i) The North-South direction and consequently also the East-West line of Ptolemy's grid for the Maltese Islands should be rotated clockwise through 40° so that the line through the positions of Gaulos city, Melite city, and the sanctuary
17. Both the differences and the margin of error in longitude were halved in accordance with the average stretching factor found from Table 2. The differences in latitude were kept as in the original work. PTOLEMY'S MALTESE CO-ORDINATES 265 of Juno aligns with the band containing the Gozo citadel, Mdina, and the Tas Silg site. (ii) All Ptolemy's distances in longitude should be reduced by a factor of 1.63. (iii) The latitudinal distance between Chersonesos and the sanctuary of Hercules should be reduced from 10 to 7 minutes of arc to correspond with the width of Malta at the rotated longitude of Mdina. The reasons for the first correction can be inferred from the comments made already, especially about the position of the city of Gaulos which falls in the sea whatever correction in longitude is applied. In addition, when the co-ordinates of other nearby places such as Pantelleria, the Aeolian islands, and the islands around Crete are taken into consideration, in each case a rotation in the clockwise direction of Ptolemy's co-ordinate grid gives a much better fit with modern positions. The error in rotation is particularly evident for the coastal towns and promontories of Sicily. Considering the southern coast only, Ptolemy gives practically the same latitude for modern Cape Passero, Agrigento, Selinunte, and Castellamare since the difference in latitude between the southernmost and northernmost of these points is given as only 10 minutes of arc. However, modern values show that the difference should be 82 minutes of arc. As a result of these errors, the southern coast of Sicily is known to run roughly in an East-West direction on Ptolemy's map (see fig. 5) while modern maps show that it should run approximately from South-east to North-west. 18 The second correction stems from the distortion in longitude which has been explained in an earlier section. The extent of the correction has been arrived at by taking the modern direct distances in minutes of arc between the known sites as being the longitudinal distances referred to by Ptolemy. 19 Comparing these with Ptolemy's differe~ces in longitude, the values of stretching in longitude shown
18. During the preparation of this paper for printing, it was noticed that O. A. W. Dilke (1985), 85-86 showed that Ptolemy's co-ordinates for the north African coast from C. Bon (Tunisia) to the Brachodes promontory (Ras Kapudia) have a roughly NW-SE or WNW-ESE alignment instead of approximately north-south. This means that, similarly to the co-ordinates of the Maltese Islands, these co-ordinates have to be rotated clockwise by about 45 ° for a correct representation of this area of the coast of the central Mediterranean. Dilke also suggested that Ptolemy may have looked at a Roman centuriation map and have taken the approximately NE-facing kardines as facing north, thus mistakently rotating the orientation by about 45°. However, in this paper it is being suggested that the clockwise rotation is needed on a much larger scale. 19. When calculating the modern direct distances between the known sites each .U"~;I'~<'.IJ~ was taken to be IIcos 36° or 1.236 times greater than a degree in IOngIWIQe'slll(;e. 0 of the Maltese Islands is almost 36 • 266 FRANK VENTURA in Table 3 are obtained.
Table 3 Localities Differences in longitude Stretching Ptolemy Modern Factor Melite c. - Juno s. 15 9.38 1.60 Gaulos c. - Juno s. 40 23.95 1.67 Gaulos c. - Melite c. 25 15.45 1.62
As can be seen from the table, using these distances, a much more constant stretching factor is obtained than when non-rotated distances are considered as
-':'. "":'~1YRR - -; -. -;: -- -:.---.--: \~ -0.° .. . -. - - .- f 39 Figure 5. Ptolemy's map of Sicily from Octo Libri Pto/emei, 1490. PTOLEMY'S MALTESE CO-ORDINATES 267 in Table 2. The average stretching is 1.63 and this is the factor by which Ptolemy's longitudinal distances should be corrected. The third correction is the least necessary but it should be applied for completion. Besides the reason given above about the difference in latitude between Chersonesos and the sanctuary of Hercules being roughly equal to the width of Malta, the sanctuary of Hercules is mentioned along with the city of Melite in the planum circulation is of the Classis Praesidiaria, the garrison fleet of the Roman Empire. 20 This suggests that the sanctuary may have been on the coast or at least a landmark visible from out at sea. The name of the other site, Chersonesos, meaning peninsula, implies that it was by the sea. Therefore it seems reasonable to put the sites on opposite coasts of the island. With these corrections, a new grid is drawn in which the positions of the sites mentioned by Ptolemy can be inserted. Additionally, an error box 10 minutes of arc wide in longitude and 5 minutes wide in latitude is centred on each to take care of the least error in both geographical co-ordinates. 21 When the new rotated positions are superimposed on a map of the Maltese Islands with the position of Melite at the centre of Malta rather than at Mdina, each site falls within a specific area of the islands as in figure 6. From the figure it is immediately clear that although the corrected positions of the cities of Gaulos and Melite and the sanctuary of Juno still do not coincide exactly with the Gozo Citadel, Mdina, and the Tas-Silg site respectively, these places are within the respective error boxes. Furthermore, the position of Chersonesos falls in the sea beyond Qawra point and its error box contains various places on the coast. Among these, the tongue ofland, similar to a peninsula, which includes Qawra and Bugibba, is the most likely candidate for Chersonesos. The centre of the error box containing the sanctuary of Hercules falls on Dingli cliffs and the error box contains a large area of surrounding land. In both cases a reassessment of places of archaeological interest in the areas concerned could lead to the identification of the unknown sites. 22 20. Pauly-Wissowa, Realencyclopadie, I e., 450 quoted by Lattyak, A., Excerptwn el: Opere Explicatio Geographiae Claudii Ptolemaei, I, (Budapest, 1929) 7. I would like to thank Prof. A. Bonanno for access to this source. 21. The differences and the margin of error in longitude were reduced by a factor of 1.63 and those in latitude by a factor of 1.43 (or 1017) to correct for the stretching mentioned in the text. 22. Allowing for random errors in Ptolemy's co-ordinates, the error boxes should be enlarged, especially longitudinally. Such an extension in the case of the error box around the position of the sanctuary of Hercules could include well-known sites such as those at Ras ir-Raheb and Ras il-Pellegrin. The one at Ras ir-Raheb is particularly interesting since D. Trump has suggested that it may be a religious site and noted that its courtyard shows some similarity to that ofTas-Silg. D. Trump, Malta: an archaeological guide, (London, 1975), 127. 268 FRANK VENTURA ,,'...... " ... / " " , " " " " '> " " , " " , " " " './. Figure 6. Map of the Maltese Islands with Ptolemy's positions and respective error boxes after correction for rotation and systematic stretching in both longitude and latitude. Conclusion From the foregoing discussion it should be clear that in his Geography, Ptolemy's main intention was to suggest methods for projecting positions on a sphere onto a plane to produce an undistorted map of the known world. Although both his projections are valid, the geographical parameters he accepts, including the value of the circumference of the Earth and the geographical co-ordinates of most places, are rather inaccurate resulting in a distorted map. In particular, the Mediterranean Sea is greatly extended in longitude and this stretching is reflected in the co ordinates of the five sites he mentions in Malta and Gozo. These co-ordinates and others of nearby islands indicate that Ptolemy' s grid is rotated with respect to the true North-South direction. PTOLEMY'S MALTESE CO-ORDINATES 269 The fact that Ptolemy's smallest unit of measurement of both longitude and latitude is one twelfth of a degree or 5 minutes of arc indicates the limit of accuracy of his co-ordinates. From a consideration of the greater difficulty of determining longitude and the limited accuracy of the given co-ordinates, it has been shown that. at best, each of the Maltese sites can be placed within an area of 10 by 5 minutes of arc. It should also be noted that allowing for possible random errors in the co-ordinates of the sites, the area has to be extended, especially by increasing its length, since this dimension corresponds to longitude, the co-ordinate more liable to be in error. By correcting Ptolemy' s geographical co-ordinates for rotation, stretching in longitude and error in latitude, a.I:1d superimposing them, with error boxes included, on a modern map of Malta, one can arrive at the general location of the unknown sites. Thus Chersonesos is placed in the Qawra-Bugibba and surrounding area while the sanctuary of Hercules is placed at Dingli cliffs and the surrounding land. These results can only be considered as working hypotheses and not as evidence for the sites being in the areas mentioned. Such evidence can only come from detailed textual interpretation of ancient sources and, more reliably, from archaeological excavation and interpretation. Finally, it should be amply clear that any naive reference to Ptolemy for indications about the positions of the unknown sites will not yield useful results. In particular, the search for the sanctuary of Hercules in the south of Malta cannot be supported by the claim that Ptolemy placed it there on his map.23 In fact it appears that Ptolemy meant to place the site on the high ground to the west and south-west of the island. 23. V. Borg reviews the work of several authors whose general opinion is that the sanctuary of Hercules was situated in the area of Marsaxlokk. See V. Borg. 'Tradizioni e documenti storici' in Missione arche%gica a Ma/ra. (1964) 41-51. On the other hand, in the paper on Quintinus and the location of the temple of Hercules at Marsaxlokk, Me/ita Historica, VIII. 3, (1982) 190-204, A. Bonanno concludes that we do not know where in Malta the temple of Hercules was sited. Moreover. referring to a statue of Hercules first mentioned by G. F. Abela. he states that we are almost certain that this statue did not come from Marsaxlokk. FRANK VENTURA, B.Sc., M.Phi!., Dip. Sc. Educ., is Head of Pedagogy and Communisatitfn,. Studies, University of Malta.,/ ,'>". ON INSPIRATION Michael Zammit IR ISAAC NEWTON, on being asked about his scientific discoveries and Shis considerable reputation as a phsicist, replied: 'I am like a child picking pebbles on the seashore. There are thousands and thousands, millions upon millions more of them to be picked up.' The image of the unlimited vastness of the seashore evokes awe and inspires the mind (of which it is an image) with reverence and humility the real basis of any truly scientific spirit and any truly artistic spirit. The wise man knows that everything works under Law and according to Nature. If the Law is known, and if Nature is understood, then all the rest stands revealed. Then the knowing, understanding enquirer will tell others what to look for, where to look, and what they will find. It is only thus that whole generations of discoveries are made possible. Inspiration is necessary for the processes of discovery not to run down and come to a dead stop. Inspiration comes along with, or as a result of, insight: the power of seeing into an event. It often comes to a man when he is still and far away from tumult and excessive agitation, whether physical (such as loud music, <>rowds), mental (excitement, thoughts whizzing madly away, daydreams), or spiritual (hatred, jealousy, criticism). The Latin word, spirare, means 'to blow, 'to breathe into, to infuse, to influence'. Words like 'spirit' are derived from it. In-spirare therefore means 'to breathe upon or to blow into, to infuse some thought or feeling into a person, as if by breathing'. 'To inspire' also implies 'to animate' (from anima meaning 'soul') - to animate as if by some mental or spiritual influences. The inspiration of the great scientists is quite well known: Newton received such inspiration as a young man during a time when he was away from the university which had closed down temporarily because an epidemic had broken out. He was in the stillness of his own library and what he saw in a few vivid moments took him over fifty years to verify and demonstrate. Such inspiration comes only to those who work in the right way and it is a prelude to more work - work by which the inspiration is verified, made manifest and therefore transformed into something practical and tangible. Mozart speaks of the bubbling up of a musical idea when he is 'of good cheer HYPHEN. Vcl. V. Number 6 ON INSPIRATION 271 after a good meal, or during a ride out into the countryside'. He relates how he literally experiences the music as 'a whole' in which all the parts are clear - and all he has to do then is memorize it and later on transcribe it from memory. Such is the power of the mind. This implies that a man may make use of deeper powers in himself - powers such as inspiration, of which he is not ordinarily aware. It is an inner sight, deep within the mind and a man must be still, quiet, and collected within himself. It is not the privilege of anyone in particular except if one learns how to attend to stillness, how to be free of the hustle and bustle of daily affairs which overlay and habitually hide out such vision. Many know the experiences of sleeping over a problem to wake up finding either that it has dissolved or that the solution to it is simple. It seems, therefore, that a condition for inspiration is that the superficial layers of the mind be quiesced. It would seem that in most cases we have very little or almost no control over what happens at the subtler, deeper levels of the mind, but we are quite capable of achieving some control of the superficial activity that arrests such moments of inspiration from surfacing more often. It is in this light that Edward Debono, when discussing the various modes of thinking, remarks that 'insight (and therefore inspiration) is more a matter of finding the right approach than of method ... ' Finding the right approach implies finding ways and means of stilling the agitation of mind and heart but unfortunately it is such agitation that is commonly confused with and assumed to be thinking. Thinking is thought to be all the activity that usually runs on somewhat haphazardly in the mind. Thinking is taken to be all the inner conversing, all the inner deliberations, all the free associating of ideas, images, sounds, and whatnot else that are in fact agitations, superficial movements that truly suffocate inspiration - and therefore violate the reasoning principle - the beginning and end of any true creativity - any true discovery - and true thinking. 'And God saw that the wickedness of man was gre~t in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.' Gen. vi. 5. ' ... for the imagination of a man's heart is evil from his youth.' Gen. viii. 21. It was this imagination of a man's heart, this agitation, with the ego at its centre, that provoked the deluge. When the mind is allowed to swell without interruption on that which will suit 'me' (and 'me' implies 'me alone' or 'my group or class alone'), on that which is 'mine' - the mind is literally inundated and swept away, drifts away from its moorings in the real world. At best the victim is in a condition of dream, at worst such egoism becomes the gateway to madness. Usually, most people inhabit the twilight realm between dream and madness where life seems safely patterned and meted out in well-worn designs: career, 272 MICHAEL ZAMMIT politics. religion, friends, enemies, possessions, and so on. The consequences of this state of affairs are well known since the highway of agitation, struggle, and competition is a well-trodden one. Our ideas, our opinions, our theories, our creeds suddenly become good enough reasons for suppressing any other ideas, opinions, theories, or creeds just because they are different. Plurality becomes a threat and therefore one has all the reason in the world to suppress all or any 'competitor' if needs be, even violently, using torture and other means. (From the Latin torquere 'to twist'; derived from the Sanskrita root form: (ark meaning, amongst other things, 'to suspect'). The man held in such a spell is a man riddled by suspicion, a man whose natural impulse for a 'Love of Life' has been changed into a desperate 'struggle' for existence, for class, or what have you: a somewhat alienated position from the status of man at his best - man inspired - man creative. 'Thinking' is not what it is generally assumed to be, and since such assumptions (usually tacit); as those that identify 'thinking' with agitation; can usher in unfortunate consequences by the legion, it has always been, and will always be necessary, for man to explore ways and means not only of discovering what thinking is and is about, but also of learning the subtle art of guarding the mind. MICHAEL ZAMMIT, B.A.(Hons.), teaches 'Man and Symbols' in the Systems of Knowledge Course at the New Lyceum, Msida. THE PHILOSOPHICAL PROBLEM IN DOSTOEVSKY'S CRIME AND PUNISHMENT Paul Spiteri '0 the mind. mind has mountains: cliffs of fall Frightful. sheer. no-man-fathom·d. Hold them cheap may who ne'er hung there .. .' G.M. HQpkins HE lines from Hopklns 'ternble' sonnet pertecuy detine and summanze the T intense psychological turmoil, the high existential risk of Raskolnikov's spiritual adventure. Crime and Punishment is a detective story written backwards: the identity of the killer is revealed in the first paragraph, by the seventh chapter we have witnessed the brutal double murder and for most of the 400-odd pages that remain we follo:" the criminal in his desperate search for a motive. In a manner typical of Dostoevsky's protagonists, Raskolnikov pushes him~elfbeyond the limits of psychological 'normality' in an attempt to know himself 'once for all, in depth, to the very bottom' (G. Lukacs). Crime and Punishment may be regarded as a grim, and thoroughly modern, dramatization of the Hellenic ideal of self-knowledge. But during the centuries separating Dostoevsky from Plato this ideal of self-knowledge had undergone a sardonic sea-change: Porfiry' s method of interrogation recalls the Socratic dialogue in many ways, but the resemblance is essentially superficial. A new and demonic note informs the cut-and-thrust of Porfiry's arguments, an' impurity of motive energizes his ruthless shredding of Raskolnikov's psychological defences. His interrogation is no disinterested investigation of the truth: Nietzsche was the faithful pupil of Dostoevsky in his recognition of intellectual rigour as the spiritualization of the sadistic nerve. That was by way of a minor example: everything that Dostoevsky touches has the tendency to reveal depths and ambiguities that simultaneously solicit and defy analysis. Nothing is what it seems; above all, nothing stands in isolation. If, for the purposes of critical coherence and clarity, we isolate any issue from the novel for separate treatment, it is with the depressing feeling that such individuation involves a subtle betrayal of the rich complexity of Dostoevsky's art. The following attempt to discuss separately the 'philosophy' of Crime and Punishment - a H~PHEN. Vol. V. Number 6 274 PAUL SPITERI 'philosophy' which the novel dramatizes in relation to many other issues - must be seen, at best, as nothing more than a convenient fiction. The experiment with oneself, the execution of an action not so much for the sake of the contents and effects of the action, but in order to know oneself once for all, in depth, to the very bottom ... (George Lukacs, 'Dostoevsky', reprinted in Dostoevsky 20th century views). In a brilliant monograph on Crime and Punishment A. D. NuttalP describes the novel (in his sub-title) as a study of 'murder as a philosophic experiment'. It is an apt and perfectly justifiable characterization: Raskolnikov, in common with Dostoevsky's major figures, is infected by the leprosy of thought, devastated by the cancer of metaphysical speculation. The metaphors are advisedly chosen: in a delirious dream very near the end of the novel (p. 555) Raskolnikov sees 'the whole world ... ravaged by an unknown and terrible plague ... New kinds of germs . . . made their appearance . . . these creatures were spirits endowed with reason and will ... '2 and he goes on to weave a powerful dream-parable of mass hysteria and paranoia in which one glimpses a dark foreboding both of the organized insanity of Hitler's Nuremberg mass-rallies as well as of Stalin's paranoiac reign of terror. Dostoevsky, with grim insight, and in novel after IJo.vel, gave prophetic shape to those rough political beasts as they slouched(to be~orn.) (towards 'our century) Reason and Will are identified as a deadly infection, a virus of madness. For if there is a single concept we can safely abstract from the living 'polyphony' (M. Bakhtin's felicitous term) of Dostoevsky's fictional universe, it is that intelligence by itself is the source of all evil, and ultimately of despair. The philosophical problem dramatized through Raskolinkov may be conveniently summarized as follows: (a) An extreme form of utilitarianism (b) The 'Extraordinary Man' theory (c) The Existential'problem and the Paradox of freedom and power. As will emerge from our discussion, the 'Extraordinary Man' theory (b) is in fact Utilitarianism (a) in its extremist form; it is the natural, and possibly inevitable, extension of the doctrine of 'the greatest good of the greatest number' taken to its rational (one is tempted to say, Russian!) conclusion. In the existential problem (c), however, the emphasis is shifted entirely to the means and away from the end (the balance of means and end is central in utilitarian I. Dostoel'sky's Crime and Punishment, Text and Context, 1978. 2. All references are to the Penguin edition, translated by David Magarshack. CRIME AND PUNISHMENT 275 theory) which is quietly jettisoned. The focus of attraction and the ethical centre of justification becomes the subject, while the object simply recedes into moral invisibility. In Notes from Underground, which Dostoevsky published shortly before Crime and Punishment, the nameless narrator launches a savage attack against the idea that virtue and happiness can be attained - or are indeed desirable - through the pursuit of 'enlightened self-interest'. The immediate occasion for the outburst was apparently the publication, in 1863, of Chernyshevsky's novel What is to be done? which postulated, in Dostoevsky's narrator's succinct summary, the notion that A man does evil only because he does not know his real interests, and if he is enlightened and his eyes opened to his own best interests, man will cease to do evil and at once become virtuous and noble ... it is well known that no man can knowingly act against his best interest. (Notes from Underground, Ch. 7, p. 29, Penguin edition) Apart from its uncanny resemblance to the Socratic view that evil is ignorance and knowledge virtue, Chernyshevsky's theory also stood perfectly in line with an ethico-political tradition stretching back to Jeremy Bentham (1748-1832), the father of Utilitarianism. According to Bentham, 'It is the greatest happiness of the greatest number that is the measure of right and wrong. ' Man seeks pleasure and avoids pain; therefore, pain and pleasure determine what we ought to do, as well as determine what we shall do. Dostoevsky's Underground Man angrily rejects this neat science of pleasure and pain. He opposes it with the principle of 'indeterminacy': Man may deliberately choose the more painful of two courses of action - we take pleasure in pain. The supreme value, he insists, is not pleasure or happiness, but freedom; it is better freely to choose pain than to have happiness thrust upon one. The Underground Man derives intense, if perverse, pleasure from doing precisely those things which cause the most terrible pain: 'it is in de~pair that we find the most acute pleasure'. Utilitarianism, to make any sense, must not only say that man is moved by pleasure but must objectively identify these pleasures. The Underground Man denies that it can do this, for the simple reason that were it to attempt to do so, he would be there to deny the universal applicability of the proposed 'object of pleasure'. Though he constituted only a single exception, the very fact that an exception could exist at all would be enough to send the whole system 'to the devil'. But the Underground Man is also acutely aware of the opposite danger: if he consistently and on principle chose pain instead of pleasure he would fall into the Utilitarian trap just the same - his behaviour would become predictable and hence consistent with precisely such a 'scientific' account of human nature 276 PAUL SPITERI he is defending his existential freedom against. So he sidesteps the trap of consistent nonconformity by elevating the notion of 'caprice' (Le. random or whimsical behaviour) to the level of a definition of freedom: One's own free and unfettered volition, one's own caprice, however wild, one's own fancy, inflamed sometimes to the point of madness - that is the one best and greatest good, which is never taken into consideration because it will not fit into any classification, and the omission of which always sends all systems and theories to the devil. (Ibid., pp. 33-4) To sum up: The Underground Man rejects all theories and systems because he sees in them a threat to his existential freedom. The implication of his position is this: to be absulutely free, an action must be divorced not only from external pressure, but also, and primarily, from an 'internal' reason. The least taint of a 'motive' robs an action of its freedom. A free action is 'capricious' or gratuitous. Even a crime committed without any obvious motive, committed in fact to establish one's freedom from motivation, loses its 'free' quality precisely because it is done to prove something; namely, that one is free from motivation. The relevance of the foregoing account to an understanding of Raskolinkov's crime is surely obvious. Raskolnikov is not only interested in Utilitarian theory, but intermittently imagines himself an adherent of that philosophy. The three crucial scenes in the novel where Raskolnikov's 'philosophy' is hammered out are: (a) The overheard conversation between the student and the army officer in Part I: Ch. 6; p. 82 et seq. (b) The discussion about Roskolnikov's article on crime during his first 'interview' with Porfiry (Part 3: Ch. 5, p. 272 et seq.) 4 Z. '" (c) The scene of his confession to Sonia (Part 6: Ch. 5, p. m et seq.). In a flashback to six weeks before the fictional present (the eve of the murder) Raskolnikov had just returned from his first, forced, visit to the old pawnbroker to whom he had immediately 'conceived a violent aversion'. As he sat in the restaurant, 'A strange idea was hatching in his brain, like a chick in an egg, an idea that he was finding more and more fascinating.' Listening to the student's 'theory' about the old woman he 'gave a start': like Macbeth on the blasted heath, he recognizes his most secret thoughts in the words of the student; his involuntary shock of recognition betrays the murderous nature of his half-hatched idea: 'I'll gladly murder that dammed old woman and rob her of all she has ... without the slightest compunction.' (p. 85 - 5) But it is the reason the student gives to justify murder that is most interesting from our point of view: it is that the end justifies the means - with the moral justification lying heavily on the good which will result from the breaking of the CRIME AND PUNISHMENT 277 moral law: 'One death in exchange for a hundred lives - why, its a simple sum of arithmetic. ' A morality of relative values has substituted absolute moral sanctions, but the dangers implicit in a philosophy which inverts the traditional ethical relation between ends and means are fairly obvious - as Ivan Karamazov will declare in The Brothers Karamazov: if God (the ultimate source of morality) does not exist, then 'everything is permitted'. The distance between this position and Raskolnikov's theory of 'extraordinary man' which is given utterance during his first 'interview' with Porfiry, is easily traversed. The discussion starts with Razumikhin's attack on the socialists' 'environmentalist' interpretation of crime. His anger at the envisaged mathematical organization of mankind and its instantaneous transformation into a sinless and just society is a defence of man's existential freedom not dissimilar to that of the Underground Man. The discussion then passes on to Raskolnikov's division of mankind into 'ordinary' and 'extraordinary' men. The first type have no right to transgress the law - because they are 'ordinary'; but the 'extraordinary man' can permit his conscience 'to step over certain obstacles', provided this is absolutely necessary for the fulfilment of his idea 'on which the welfare of all mankind may depend'. This last condition is crucial: we are still talking of means and ends (only the end justifies the means) - though not for long. Porfiry twice interrupts Raskolnikov; first to inquire if he believed in God and in the raising of Lazarus, and then to ask him if he has ever entertained the ghastly possibility of 'a member of one category [imagining] that he really [belonged] to the other' and who then begins 'to eliminate all obstacles.' Both interventions go to the heart of the matter and demonstrate the impossibility of discussing the 'philosophy' of the novel in isolation from the religious issues it implicates as well as from the poetic means which carry it. For the raising of Lazarus from the dead constitutes one of the richest veins of explicit religious imagery in the novel: Sonia identifies Raskolnikov with the dead Lazarus, and in a splendid scene she is forced by Raskolnikov himself to read out to him the passage from the Gospel which tells of his raising from the dead. Moreover, images of suffocation, airlessness, and constriction, and above all, Raskolnikov's mother's description of his room as 'a coffin', all link Raskolnikov to the 'buried' Lazarus. A question this novel insistently forces us to ask is: Will this modern Lazarus ever be raised from his spiritual death? But Porfiry's linking of Raskolnikov with Lazarus at this point contains a darker irony: a devastating contrast is being unobtrusively drawn between Raskolnikov's 'extraordinary man', whose greatness involves murder, and Christ, whose 'greatness' consisted in raising the dead to life. 'But how are we to distinguish the "extraordinary" people from the "ordinary" 278 PAUL SPITERI ones?' What if an ordinary person got it into his head that he was 'extraordinary' and started on a campaign of murder? Raskolnikov acknowledges the justice of this objection and, in another passage bristling with irony, admits that such a mistake is easily made. But the 'ordinary' person, 'being extremely law-abiding by nature' would soon find out his mistake and punish himself more severely than society can ever punish him. Having already witnessed the psychological and moral devastation Raskolnikov's crime has had on him, it becomes impossible not to suspect that the perfection with which this description fits his own case is not at least partly evident to him. Right to the end of the novel Raskolnikov consistently interprets the whole process of his terrible self-punishment, not as a failure of his 'theory', but as the result of a ghastly mistake about his own nature, to which - in a bizarre reversion to an eschatology he consciously rejects - he was led by the devil. His mistake lay in imagining himself a Napoleon when he was only a louse. But his theory had provided for just such an eventuality: the ordinary man was by definition 'extremely law-abiding by nature' and would destroy himself when he broke the law. Crime and Punishment is not as straightforward a case-study of the wages of sin as may appear on first acquaintance. The case of an authentic 'extraordinary man' - if such can be said to exist, but which Raskolnikov is certainly not - is not answered by the history of the hero's spiritual adventure. But I do not wish to imply that Dostoevsky evades the issue: on the contrary, just such a case is made, and engaged with all the ferocious integrity we associate with Dostoevsky, in the sinister figure of Svidrigaylov - but that is outside the scope of this article. But to return to Raskolnikov: What are we to make of the famous reconciliation scene in the epilogue? Does it not contradict just what we have been saying? On closer inspection, however, this profoundly moving episode will reveal itself as neither the 'false ending' many critics have seen in it nor, strictly speaking, a rejection by Raskolnikov of his 'theories'. What we do find in it is the transformation of the hero's infernal condition of sterile suffering into a purgatorial state of purifying pain. Dante would have readily recognized both spiritual states, even if his eschatological scheme did not conceive of a movement from the first to the second. Raskolnikov has humbly accepted his human ordinariness: what has changed in him is his attitude to that ordinariness. He has now learnt to live with it not in a demoniacal spirit of self-hatred and self-disgust (themselves reliable symptoms that he is not so 'ordinary' after all) but in a chastened spirit of genuine humility. But does Raskolnikov's theory of 'extraordinary man' finally clear up the problem of motivation with respect to his crime? Or is it really just a smokescreen meant primarily for his own eyes? The best way of answering these questions is to return for a moment to Notes from Underground. CRIME AND PUNISHMENT 279 The Underground Man - surely the first existentialist in literary history - had foughr a bitter rearguard action, in defence of his freedom, against any philosophic attempt to give a schematic and predictive account of human nature. Chief among these philosophies was Utilitarianism. But Raskolnikov's theory of 'extraordinary man' is essentially an extreme form of Utilitarianism. The Underground Man would have had nothing but contempt for a philosophy so anxiously preoccupied with the need to justify itself through the moral elevation of the 'End', viz. 'the welfare of Mankind'. We remember that he had defined freedom as a divorce between action and motive: the free action is that which is innocent both of reasons and justifications. Could this, then, be the reason why so often in the novel, but especially in the scenes leading up to, and including, the murder, Raskolnikov is portrayed, not as a free agent, but as someone in the grip of a fatality, behaving in the compulsive manner of an obsessive, feeling 'as if sentenced to death' when he learns that the next evening he 'must' take his hatchet to the old woman's? But this would only be the case if it could be proved that in murdering the two women Ra&kolnikov was in fact 'acting out' his theory about 'extraordinary man'. In his confession to Sonia it turns out that such indeed was not the case. He parades in front of Sonia the alternative possible motives for his crime - and he starts with his theory of 'extraordinary man'. It is given short shrift by Sonia: with the unerring intuition of love and the spiritual clairvoyance of the simple-minded, Sonia is not to be so easily deceived - love is the least blind of passions. At this moment of truth, Raskolnikov recognizes the dishonesty and self-deception involved in the pretence that he acted 'for the welfare of mankind' - but what we are given i~ exchange for a philosophy of 'ends and means' is an assertion of naked power and daring: 'Power is given only to him who dares ... ' The respectable habiliments of the original theory - viz. that one claimed power, waded through blood, only in order to benefit mankind - are quietly removed: '1 did it for myself alone ... 1 had to find out - as quickly as possible, whether 1 was a louse like the rest, or a man.' However, we are not yet quite out of the metaphysical thicket. We have still to explain why Raskolnikov, apart from a few moments of rare spontaneity, is presented to us as so chronically unfree. The Underground Man had identified the free with the random, and Raskolnikov's crime is certainly not 'capricious' in the Underground Man's meaning of the term. It is motivated by his insatiable greed to know himself 'once for all, in depth'. On the one hand we witness the almost pathological manner in which he 'acts out' his crime, 'like a man sentenced to death', while on the other, we have his feelings of release and freedom which his occasional and unpremeditated acts of generosity produce in him. Is the 280 PAUL SPITERI Underground Man right, after all, in his definition of freedom? The feeling that there is something radically off key in this explanation refuses to wear off. The reason, I think, is this: when Raskolnikov permits himself to act spontaneously and unreflectively, when his actions seem most gratuitous and 'capricious' (and apparently most in line with the Underground Man's existentialist philosophy), he consistently behaves morally and in a Christian spirit. Part of the power of this great novel lies in its unobtrusive identification of the moral with the spontaneous: Raskolnikov is furthest away from Christianity when he is at his most self-conscious, intellectual, and reflective. But if spontaneous behaviour is consistently moral, it fails to qualify as authentically unpredictable3 or capricious or random, the three crucial terms on which the Underground Man's concept of freedom rests. So the basic disharmony that one felt to exist between the quality of those moments of Christian freedom which Raskolnikov occasionally inhabits, and the Underground Man's bleak reduction of freedom to a sterile randomness, is seen to have sound philosophical foundations. But the Underground Man's concept of 'caprice' is not irrelevant to Crime and Punishment. Svidrigaylov, who inhabits far more terrifying extremes of spiritual dereliction than Raskolnikov himself, exemplifies the Underground Man's philosophy and is the true existential hero of the novel. For him there are no purgatorial fires at the end, however - only the eternal cold of Dante's nethermost circle of Hell. -'. This does not mean that it is possible to predict when. or if. Raskolnikov would act spontaneously: but it b possible to predict that his spontaneity would be moral. PAUL SPITERI, B.A.(Hons.), teaches 'Texts' in the Systems of Knowledge course at the New Lyceum, Msida. SYSTEMS OF KNOWLEDGE Paul HeywoodlPeter Serracino Inglott 1 1.1 INTRODUCTION HE University of Malta Matriculation Examination in Systems of TKnowledge is obligatory for every candidate seeking admission into the University from 1 October 1989. It is, therefore, necessary for schools preparing students for this examination to provide courses which afford insights into the different disciplines, making the student aware of their strengths and limitations. The syllabus was drawn up on the assumption that focusing only on the special fields covered by Advanced Level subjects promoted certain habits of mind to the exclusion of others and, if the School was to foster in our students a greater flexibility in adapting to changing patterns of work and life in a post-industrial age, it should afford them opportunities of going beyond the traditional limits of particular disciplines and gaining insight into different systems of knowledge. The main challenge in translating this concept into a syllabus for teaching and examination lies in offering areas of study which develop the candidates' ability to view ideas, skills and situations from a wider standpoint than that of a single discipline; and, at the same time, delimiting such areas so that formal testing of attainment in them becomes possible and meaningful. For the exploration of all the six areas of study, guidelines are provided rather than exact prescriptions. What the examiners will be testing is the candidates' ability to grasp, and experiment with, ideas and principles and not simply their capacity for memorizing facts. Nonetheless, real knowledge and preparation in the areas covered by the questions chosen by the candidates is essential if they are to succeed. This syllabus has been prepared so that the same calibre of work will be expected of candidates taking the examination as of' A' Level candidates. However the work-load for this syllabus is intended to be half that for 'A'-Level subjects. This is reflected not only in the wide choice of examination questions set but also in the breadth of each question. Thus the candidates are afforded ample scope for showing their grasp of the problems and issues raised. HYPHEN. Vol. V. Number 6 11 PAUL HEYWOOD/PETER SERRACINO INGLOTT 1.2 Aims The introduction of Systems of Knowledge is essentially an attempt to broaden the sixth-form curriculum. It has long been felt that the 'A' Level programme of studies should be supplemented by a cultural course which would not only help break down departmental separatism in schools, born of a concentration of effort on narrow 'A' level syllabuses, but also prompt students to reflect maturely on the specific learning derived from their' A' level courses and help them relate it to other fields of knowledge within a broad social and cultural framework. Systems of knowledge is aimed at lending depth and breadth to 'A' level studies, at the same time making students more adaptable, flexible and broadly educated. It is an attempt to integrate thinking and doing in ways that enlarge rather than trivialize understanding, an effort to recreate the wholeness of the person. Systems of Knowledge militates against an unreflective and mechanistic approach to life. It also implies a firm belief in the transferability of intellectual skills, like the ability to analyse, to argue logically and persuasively, which are the basis for a successful career. 1.3 Areas of Study The syllabus comprises six different areas of study: 1.31 Man and Symbols This unit affords students opportunities to exercise and develop their thinking skills, helping them through role play and simulation exercises to master the guiding principles of discourse, so that they learn to debate, discuss and argue logically and form sound opinions. Lessons are meant to be enjoyable with an emphasis laid on the concept of homo ludens. Francis Bacon likened Logic to athletics when, in the Preface to Novum Organum he described it as 'a kind of athletic art to strengthen the sinews of the understanding'. Teachers are encouraged to foster creative thought by organizing practical sessions in which students try to solve problems together in order to learn, among other things, how the opinion of one speaker may yield a new truth when combined with that of another. Thinking and communication are means for fitting the mind to derive knowledge in any branch of intellectual endeavour whether it is in the SYSTEMS OF KNOWLEDGE iii humanities, the commercial subjects or science. They drill the mind into exactitude. 1.32 Man and Environment (a) In this unit teacher and students are concerned with RELATIONSHIPS between MAN and his physical/human ENVIRONMENT. These relation ships become particularly relevant in the study of spatial patterns involving phenomena on the Earth's surface. As a result of this broadly-based programme, the Unit 'Man and Environment' brings students into contact with other disciplines in both the Natural and Social Sciences. (b) It also seeks to make students aware of the relationship of central political concepts to political activity and structures. They may be led to consider how political systems or particular forms of government and politics persist over the years. What holds them together from year to year? Why is it that some of them fall apart while others do not? One of the main avenues of entry to this question has been to account for what is called political stability. Work on political stability tends to focus on political arrangements already in existence and is concerned to show how and why they stay the way they are. Other questions worth probing are how and why such political arrangements come into being and why some countries become democracies while others become dictatorships. Attempting to give valid answers to these questions entails the adoption of scientific methods of enquiry without which our assumptions and deductions will often prove to be guided by speculative guesses and generalizations. The formulation of concepts backed by statistical data, logical rigour and practical experience will enable the individual to identify what is wrong with a system or what might be the difficulties that have to be overcome. This unit should also prompt students to participate in the democratic life of their community. 1.33 Man and History The limitations, both physical and psychological, imposed by living in what is virtually one parish circumscribed by the sea, are apt to breed in our youth a narrow parochialism, what the Italians belittlingly refer to as campan ilismo. This 'spirit of the belfry' nowhere reveals itself more strikingly than in the essays and other written assignments of sixth-form students. These tasks demand, before all else, a fairly high degree of maturity and mental awareness and not just the study, however thorough, of a few textbooks. iv PAUL HEYWOOD/PETER SERRACINO INGLOTT This unit is intended as a contribution to remedying this situation by encouraging students to view the shaping of their nation's destiny down the ages against the background of the cultural forces that have acted and reacted upon one another in the Mediterranean. Also, this unit seeks to broaden the sixth-form curriculum by being both conwlementary to, and contrasting with, the main' A' Level courses. It seeks to broaden the curriculum within the humanities area for those not studying History and also to offer a useful, stimulating and relevant course for students concentrating on a mathematics/science sixth-form curriculum. 1.34 Set Texts Most of the books set in this unit are established masterpieces that have become part of our living cultural heritage. Other choices could have been equally appropriate, and will be made in the future. For 1989, two groups of works were selected, developing two great themes: voyages (with their question-raising about the purpose of existence) and the experience of being under judgement (raising the problems of the roots of evil and its punishment) . The classical works - from different ages and cultures - are relevant today because they raise fundamental human issues and the characters portrayed in them have become types embodying eternal yearnings and urges in man. Every epoch produces its own translations of the classics. The great works are eternally relevant but each generation will interpret them in the light of prevailing ideas - hence different renderings highlighting different facets of the works. It is for this reason that these masterpieces have been paired up with contemporary or related works. Graham Greene's Monsignor Quixote shows ·how the figure of Don Quixote is still a live vein in European literature typifying enduring human traits and qualities. It also shows how a character in a classical work can be developed and explored against a contemporary setting. Indeed every great character in fiction prompts further exploration and further creativity in writers to come. A comparative approach is encouraged throughout. For instance, the Sinbad Story from the Thousand and One Nights has been set to be compared and contrasted with Homer's Odyssey. Odysseus and Sinbad venture forth on their travels with quite different attitudes to adventure and distinct views of the Universe. This unit seeks to lead students through literature to a deeper under- SYSTEMS OF KNOWLEDGE v standing of the study of man as a social being. The texts in this unit should be covered in two years. The first four units are covered by Paper I of the Matriculation Examination. 1.35 Scientific Methods and History of Science This unit, together with Unit 6, will normally be covered in the second year of the course and will be formally tested through Paper II of the Matriculation Examination. Like unit 6, it both complements, and contrasts with, the main 'A' Level courses. It seeks to broaden the mathematics/science sixth-form curriculum by helping students to stand back from their specialist activities and to learn something of how physical science has grown, to trace out the steps by which it has attained to its present power and importance and to think seriously about the moral and philosophical issues raised by the sciences. Candidates are thus encouraged to consider the broader implications of their study from a personal point of view. Principally, it broadens the curriculum within the arts/humanities area, especially for those not studying Philosophy at 'A' Level, and offers them a stimulating and relevant course, one that is essential in our scientific age. 1.36 Artistic Aims and AchieveQlents This unit obviously complements the curriculum for students following 'A' Level courses within the Arts/Humanities area who are not studying History of Art and offers a stimulating contrast to science/mathematics students. Apart from helping them to view works of Art in a historical perspective, this unit seeks to help students perceive a coherent relation ship between seeing and understanding, engendering an awareness of art as a major visible aspect of human endeavour. Also, this module helps the student to understand the role of the artist, the architect and the craftsman down the ages. It should also provide a basis for further study and the pursuit of personal interest. 1.4 Assessment Objectives The examination will assess a candidate's ability to: (a) understand the disciplines, concepts and methods applicable to the topics being studied; (b) relate subjects studied to one another, general knowledge and living experience; VI PAUL HEYWOOD/PETER SERRACINO INGLOTT (c) look at events and issues from the perspectives of people in the past; (d) analyse and evaluate a variety of types of evidence, making use of the concepts of cause and consequences, continuity and change, similarity and difference; (e) use language clearly, consistently and appropriately; (t) give evidence of appreciation of the strengths and the limitations of the various kinds of knowledge as well as their siJ1ljlarities and differences; (g) understand the influence of Literature, Art, and Science upon society. vii 2 SYLLABUS FOR 1990 Two papers are set and candidates must show competence in each. The papers will be set as follows: 2.1 Exam. Papers. - Paper I (three hours) Paper I will cover Part A of the syllabus. Candidates will be required to answer four questions, one from each section. Paper n (two hours) Paper IT will cover Parts B and C of the syllabus. Candidates will be required to answer three questions: one from each Part and a third from either Part B or Part C. 2.2 Notes 1. Set Texts. These books are for compulsory study. Candidates are required to have a thorough knowledge of their contents. 2. Recommended Reading. These books are intended to indicate the range of topics candidates are expected to be able to tackle. 3. Further Reading. Candidates are not required to have read any of the books on the lists. They may, however, gain a wider and deeper knowledge of the subject by consulting at least some of them. The titles in this group are intended mainly to serve as a guide for teachers, who may refer their students to as many, or as few, of them as they think fit. 4. Questions will be set in English but may be answered either in Maltese or in English. 2.3 Syllabus 2.31 Part A 1. Man and Symbols. (a) Thinking: theoretical and practical. (b) Communication: language and other media. 2. Man and Environment (a) world population, development, energy, urbanization, food, water, environmental hazards. (b) government (rule of law and division of powers) and the principal institutions of social life. viii PAUL HEYWOOD/PETER SERRACINO INGLOTT 3. Man and History: the Mediterranean and its role in the world. 4. Set Texts: (a) Man on a Journey. Homer: The Odyssey, translated by WaIter Shewring. Oxford Univ. Press. (The World's Classics). Tales from the Thousand and One Nights, translated by N. 1. Dawood, Penguin. Cervantes: Don Quixote, translated from the Spanish by 1. M. Cohen. Penguin. Graham Greene: Monsignor Quixote, Penguin. (b) Man under Judgement. Plato: Last days of Socrates, translated from the Greek by H. Tredennick. Penguin. Portable Dante, edited by Paolo Milano, Penguin. F. M. Dostoevsky: Crime and Punishment, translated from the Russian by D. Magarshack, Penguin. Bernanos, Georges: Monsieur Ouine, translated by William Bush, Dutton. 2.32 Part B Scientific Methods and History of Science (a) The celestial Clockwork (from prehistory to Copernicus to Newton to the special Theory of Relativity). (b) The salt of the Earth (from elements/compounds to atoms/atomic structure to nuclear/nucleo-genesis). (c) From Unity to Diversity (the beginning of life on Earth, Evolution, search for life in the Universe). (d) Anatomy of the Earth (sizing up the Earth, shape of the Earth, the Earth's interior, the dynamic face of the Earth). 2.33 Part C 1. Artistic Aims and Achievements (a) From Primitive Art to the Greeks (b) From Rome to the Renaissance (c) From Baroque art to Cezanne (d) Contemporary Art. PURGATION IN PLATO AND DANTE Charles Briffa INCE man is never absolutely good l he is liable to be under continuous Sjudgement as an affirmation or negation of the identity of his actions. Ifman's actions are acceptable by authority he receives a rewarding judgement, if unacceptable a punishing judgement. However, the evil-doer has a chance to expiate his crimes. The concept of expiation is related to judgement for purification,2 an idea that finds its way in both Plato and Dante.3 They both make the individual a responsible being and agree that the soul must be purified to attain divine grace. For Plato the soul must attain purification through knowledge; and Dante's soul through reason. Reason in Plato is essential to the concept of justice in the state and in the individual because it is a component of the soul or mind that is endowed with the faculty of taking decisions4 and this is what makes the individual responsible for his own actions. Even Dante, in De Monarchia, speaks of the intellectual faculty that acts as guide and ruler of all other faculties for the attainment of happiness. 5 Literary development later on sees Milton emphasizing knowledge of evil that helps man to 'see and know, and y I. H. Morris, Philosophy for Beginners (Dublin, 1960). Morris treats briefly the metaphysical idea of evil of nature, 'a kind of inherent evil of all created things' (p. 107). 2. Many cultures use purifying ritual techniques as protection against undesirable situations. In Egyptian mythology Horus, for instance, had a purificatory function in the coronation of the Pharaoh: vide J. Viaud, 'Egyptian Mythology' in Mythology introduced by R. Graves (London, 1969). p. 21. A whole community may feel threatened in the presence of a violator of laws as in the Old Testament story of Jonah on his way to Tarshish: the menace will stop after purification. Rituals of purification include water (baptism), mutilation (circumcision), fasting (ramadhan), prayer, and confession. 3. The major treatment of this theme is to be found in Plato's Phaedo in The Last Days of Socrates, translated by H. Tredennick (London, 1987), 108-115, and in Dante's 'Purgatorio' in The Portable Dante. edited by P. Milano (London, 1987), 188-365. All references here are for these two texts. 4. Plato, I1ze RepUblic, translated by H. D. P. Lee (London, 1968), Part 5 Section 2. 5. The Portable Dante. 643. 6. Milton, Areopagitica, 25. 282 CHARLES BRlFFA idea of purification by trial: "Assuredly we bring not innocence into the world, we bring impurity much rather: that which purifies us is trial, and trial is by what is contrary. '7 In the Phaedo, Socrates, justifying his altruistic suicide despite his view that voluntary self-destruction is a crime against God, 8 defines death as 'the release of the soul from the body'9 which he uses as the basis for his argument about purification. The true philosopherlO seeks fulfilment of the soul, not material pleasures: he avoids physical pleasures to concentrate on the acquisition of knowledge that is synonymous with virtue in which happiness may be found. 11 The soul must try to attain truth or knowledge without the aid of the body which is an imperfection that contaminates the soul, and it succeeds only 'when it ignores the body and becomes as far as possible independent, avoiding all physical contacts and associations as much as it can, in its search for reality.'12 As long as body and soul are together there is little chance of reaching Absolute Truth since the body, because of disease, emotion, and ambition, is full of distractions that interrupt the quest for reality. So, disposing of the body, the soul can obtain the required knowledge. This can only be done if it purifies itself before joining the company of the pure. 'For one who is not pure himself to attain to the realm of purity would no doubt be a breach of universal justiceJl3 For Socrates, purification consists in separating the soul from the shackles of the body. In the meantime, virtue can be obtained on earth through knowledge which is itself a sort of purification since it 'makes possible courage and self control and integrity or, in a word, true goodness' .14 Moreover, knowledge does not lead oniy to the soul's purification but also to its liberation. It sets the soul free, whereas desires and passions enslave iLlS It is with a free, purified soul that Socrates wants to go to God, and everything depends on knowledge that leads to virtue: 'he who enters the next world uninitiated and unenlightened shall lie 7. Ibid. 8. Last Days of Socrates, 104-105. 9. Ibid., 108. 10. Verus philosophus est amator Dei (The true philosopher is the lover of God) - these are St Augustine's words in De Civitate Dei (The City of God, viii, 1) which may easily fit a portrait of Socrates. Socrates' ideas have a ring of Christianity in them and it is up to the reader to decide how far we can call Socrates 'a Christian'. 11. Knowledge and wisdom in Greek mentality had strong ethical connections: H. D. P. Lee translator of Plato: The Republic (England, 1968), 13. 12. The End of Socrates, 109-110. 13. Ibid., 112. 14. Ibid., 115. 15. Ibid., 135. PURGATION IN PLATO AND DANTE 283 in the mire, but he who arrives there purified and enlightened shall dwell among the gods.' 16 In La DivifUl Commedia, Dante uses established Christian doctrine which provides him with Purgatoryl? - a state of punishment where repentant souls pay the debt of temporal punishment and are purified from all stains of sin. After they leave Hell, Virgil tells the custodian of Purgatory, Cato: I have shown him all the sinners in their pain, And now intend to show him those who dwell Under thy charge and cleanse themselves of stain. IS In his Purgatory, Dante is concerned with showing the roots of sinl9 and the reformative nature of the punishment. The sinner, having been persuaded to accept judgement,20 must be detained in Purgatory to receive his expiatory value from Christ's infinite merits: Its will alone gives of the cleansing proof, Which, all free now to change its company, Seizes the soul and makes it glad thereof. It wills indeed before, but is not free From that desire God's justice against will Sets, as toward sin once, now to its penalty.21 After accepting judgement, three things are necessary for expiation: confession (admitting that you are in the wrong), contrition (feeling and saying you are sorry for what you did and asking forgiveness) - at this stage the sinner becomes free of the guilt of sin - and reparation (making amends to remove the stain of sin) - the sinner at this point cleanses his soul from the stain of sin.22 The soul then becomes free: He seeketh freedom, that so precious thing, How precious, he knows who for her will die.23 16. Ibid .. 115. 17. SI Augustine: 'As for temporal pain, some endure it here and some here-after, and some both here and there: yet all is past before the Last Judgement.' (De Civitate Dei, xxi, 13). 18. 'Purgatorio', I, VV. 64-66, (p. 190). 19. Dante: The Divine Comedy - 2 - Purgatory. translated by D. L. Sayers (England, 1969), 15. 20. St Thomas Aquinas: 'the stain of sin cannot be removed from man unless his will accepts the order of divine justice.' (Summa Theologica). 21. 'Purgatorio' XXI, VV. 61-66 (p. 296). 22. The 'Purgatorio' must have influenced Cardinal Newman's poem, 'The Dream of Gerontius' (1866) which describes the experiences of the soul in Purgatory. 23. 'Purgatorio' 1. VV. 71-72 (p. 190-191). 284 CHARLES BRIFFA And the will and judgement are no longer fettered. It can proceed to eternal happiness. Allegorically, La Divina Commedia is the journey of the human soul (Dante) under judgement.24 Made aware2S of its own sinfulness by reason (Virgil), the soul of the sinner sees a vision of evil possibilities (Hell) within it and decides to enter a period of repentance and purification (Purgatory) from the guilt and stain of sin. The soul has now attained an experience of revelation (Beatrice) of God's presence as it enjoys its state of grace (Heaven).26 The theme of purification is thus significant to the subject of man's judgement of man. The responsible individual who chooses freely to purge himself can profit immensely by the experience of expiation so that the will does not remain hardened in evil. His power to repent is not destroyed and he avoids a condition of a living hell here on earth, a condition typical of Branca's soul dragged down to Ptolemea in Nether Hell still alive, leaving a devil in his body on earth: When this man left a devil in his stead In his own body, and in one of his house Who with him played the traitor and did the deedY Purgation restores order and discipline in the whole man through a vision of virtue28 that brings about tranquillity of mind full of hope for heavenly bliss in eternity. 29 24. In contemporary literature, Graham Greene does the same in The Power and the Glory (1940): the power of the judgement makes the whisky priest journey through a period of purification on earth because of the lieutenant's pursuit that ultimately leads him to glory. The journey is freely undertaken (on the symbolical level) since the priest had ample opportunity to escape. Greene's novel may very well be a modern version of Dante's poem. 25. F. Chiappelli ed. La Divina Commedia, (Milan, 1965): 'I'idea fondamentale che guida tali esplorazioni nella psiche non e' l'applicazione meccanica di una dottrina che elenca peccati e penitenze. E' un'altra grande intuizione personale, 0 almeno interamente personalizata dal poeta che l'ha fatta sua e I'ha riconosciuta nei mille aspetti della vita.' (p. 13). 26. E. Camerini ed. La Divina Commedia (Milano), 17. 27. 'Inferno' XXXllI, vv. 145-147 (p. 181). 28. c. S. Lewis, A Preface to 'Paradise Last' (London, 1967), Ch. XI: virtue is connected with the hierarchical conception of things; if this conception is disrupted monstrosity results 'until the peccant being is either destroyed or corrected' (p. 74). 29. F. de Sanctis, Storia de/la Letterotura Italiana (VO!. 1) (Milan, 1956): 'L'uomo del purgatorio ha i sentimenti conformi a questo stato dell'anima. Il suo carattere e' la calma interiore, assai simile alia tranquilla gioia dell'uomo virtuoso, che, nella miseria terrena, sulle ali della fede e della speranza, alza 10 spirito al paradiso.' (p. 243) CHARLES BRIFFA, B.A. (Hons.), M.A., Ph.D., teaches 'Texts' in the Systems of Knowledge course at the New Lyceum, Msida. THE HERITAGE OF ROME Louis J. Scerri o all intents and purposes, the civilization which the Romans spread all over T the Mediterranean lands, considerable areas of Europe, and the Middle East was essentially Hellenic in inspiration. All educated Romans could speak and write both Latin and Greek and they often saw themselves as consciously improving upon their Greek models. In philosophy, Rome derived all from Greece; its literature sought to scale those heights the Greeks had reached, while in art their major native contribution lay in the emphasis they laid on solid realistic portraiture. Only in law and architecture (of which engineering was considered an intrinsic component) were the Romans actual creators and inventors. This in itself was symptomatic of a people who prided themselves in their practical response to the business of living. The corpus of Roman laws, which by the second and third centuries AD included a vast accumulation of legal practice and commentary, would provide the basis for the medieval codices that led directly to all modern legal codifications. Borrowing Greek ideas, the Romans created a practical tradition based on commonsense treated in a scientific manner where laws were applied according to recorded precedents. The Romans' architectural achievements were truly unique and spectacular. Their feats in town-planning, hydraulic engineering, road building, and bridging were of an astonishing nature in size and scope - a number of modern towns still draw their water, for example, from Roman acqueducts, while some Roman roads and bridges are still in regular constant use. Their invention of concrete, domed vaults, and arches gave a new shape and size to buildings. And yet while the Greek achievement was so patently 'man-sized', with man the measure of all things, Roman civilization had a grossness and materiality about it that still assails the viewer in front of its ruins. A most telling contrast can be seen in the two civilizations' conceptions of sport: the athletic rivalry of the Greek city-states for which even hostilities would come to a temporary truce and the blood-soaked inhuman spectacles of man killing man or exotic beast, regularly served to distract a potentially dangerous populace. Still the Roman contribution to Western civilization was of a most permanent kind to all countries and regions that it came into contact with, unless it had been HYPHEN, Vo!. V. Number 6 286 LOUIS J. SCERRI violently uprooted by the barbarian hordes who, by a process of attrition, were to bring about the final collapse of the empire. The Romans succeeded, for the first and only time in history, to unite all the Mediterranean lands. The Mediterranean itself they self-consciously called the mare nostrum. The Latin people who were to found Rome has crossed the Alps about a thousand years BC. Some of them eventually chose for a settlement a highly strategic site where the Tiber could be forded and also reached by sea-going vessels. In 509 BC the Romans expelled the Etruscan dynasty which had conquered them and founded a republic in which the very idea of kingship was anathema. Rome had to fight for its existence till about 250 BC. However, owing to 'ruthless endurance, thoroughness, self-confidence, diplomacy, hardiness, and military discipline' the small city grew to dominate first Italy, and then most of the known world. Still she came to rule her vast territories almost reluctantly, in a search for greater security and commercial interests through the clever use of force and favour. By extending citizenship rights, Rome carefully wove a network of allies who obtamed protection in return for military service. These military obligations (munera) gave rise to the status of the municipium that was to prove the principal means of Roman expansion. More distant peoples were offered alliances with internal freedom, again in return for military duties. However, if self-interest decreed it, Rome was not averse to taking up the sword. No sacrifice would then be too excessive as the Romans would single-mindedly pursue total victory. The Punic Wars only came to an end when the city of Carthage was razed to the ground on a false pretext after more than a hundred years of continual warfare. In less than 150 years (282-146 BC), Rome became the undisputed mistress of the Mediterranean, first subduing Carthage and then the Hellenistic east. This rapid expansion and attendant wealth brought about a domestic tension with the rise of a new wealthy class (equites) that led to a long-drawn-out period of bloody civil wars, out of which a strong man, Augustus, would emerge as the undisputed master of the vast empire the Republic had assembled. Augustus' was essentially a Mediterranean empire - a political and economical unit unified by a sea which greatly facilitated the communications and the trade that were the empire's lifeblood. Rome's tolerant policies towards its provinces made possible the continuation of native traditions and disposed the inhabitants positively towards Roman law, justice, and administration thus providing a firm ground for the diffusion of Hellenistic culture that would survive the departure of the Roman legions. Indeed Roman rule encountered relatively little opposition or divisive localism, except for the deeply-set religious nationalism of the Jews. The resultant fusion was a completely new administrative concept. THE HERITAGE OF ROME 287 Roman civilization was based on the cities - each with its own market-place (forum), amphitheatre, and baths - through which government and administration operated. The countryside could thus be left 'untouched', though Roman values and ideals would certainly seep and leave their mark. The granting of Roman citizenship, the right to which eventually was extended to most of the provinces, guaranteed the just application of law, free of the whims of local despots. Paul of Tarsus could appeal and travel all the way to Rome for the safeguarding of his rights as a Roman citizen. Augustus' reforms, however, were carefully presented as a return to old Republican virtues. He made pretence of exercising his authority through the Senate and the assembly of the people of Rome. Even when this system would degenerate into the worst excesses of autocratic rule, the emperors would still employ the sigla SPQR (the Senate and the People of Rome) as the visible assertion of authority. For himself, Augustus merely accepted the title of princeps (first citizen). The empire's real power was the army - a superbly-drilled body of fighting men and engineers that carried the benefits of Roman civilization to the most far-flung corner. It never exceeded the number of28 legions (about 150,000 men) following the German debacle of Quintilius Varus in AD 9, with perhaps a similar number of auxiliaries. In times of unrest, the army would assume the role of kingmakers, thereby compounding the general confusion and sapping the empire's strength. No less than twenty emperors would rule in the forty-nine years from 235 to 284. The conditions prevailing in the empire would make possible the development and growth of a religion - an offshoot of Judaism - that owed its origin to an obscure teacher and a handful of men in one of the empire's most refractory regions. Its effective rise coincided with the spread of mystery cults but it had the great attractions that it was open to all, even non-Jews, women, and slaves. It held out a promise of forgiveness and salvation and every believer could have a role and feel a sense of belonging to a larger community. Constantine's recognition of Christianity and its acceptance as the official state religion in 380 were fundamentally political decisions. Christianity had spread and obtained strong holds, and its excellent organizational abilities could, and did, prove indispensible to the secular arm. In the long run, Christianity would ensure the propagation of Roman values to most corners of the world, even long after the disappearance of Rome's empire. As to why such a vast organization did disappear, a number of explanations have been put forward. Perhaps the most generally known is Edward Gibbon's theory that Rome's 'decline and fall' was the inevitable result of its own sheer size and the 'weakening' brought about by the acceptance of Christian values 288 LOU IS 1. SCERRI such as humility, patience, and piety instead of the pristine military and tough virtues that had brought it about. Though this explanation is obviously in agreement with Gibbon's rationalistic approach, it overestimates Christianity's role and the fact that one half of the empire, Christianity and all, would survive for almost another thousand years. Another tentative explanation, clearly fallacious, considers the empire as a biological organism that grows, matures, and inevitably decays. Also too simplistic or outrightly misleading are such pseudoscientific theories that try to see the empire crumbling as a result of 'racial corruption' or widespread lead poisoning. The former is obviously the product of mentalities that could justify evil ideologies, while the latter is absolutely not borne out by any significant skeletal analysis. More enlightening are Ferdinand Lot's socioeconomic theories that seek to explain the events as the consequences of the interruption of the supply of cheap slave labour and the resultant breakdown of an economy that had never progressed much beyond the agricultural level; in turn this brought about a critical downturn in whatever trade, industry, and commerce there could have been, while the disappearance of the tax-base would weaken the State. Regular manumission of slaves was, however, common at various times of the empire without such cataclysmic results; moreover Lot underestimates the political factors that could have contributed to the end-result. In recent years these political explanations have gained a much wider acceptance among historians. Rome's chronic inability to form a stable form of government that could stand up to pressures, both from without and within, was only momentarily overcome with Diocletian's division of the empire into two separate administrative halves in 285. Perhaps it would be even reasonable to question the very idea of a 'decline and fall' seeing that empires may change and develop rather than disappear into nothingness. Certainly many aspects of the Roman world survived and helped shape the medieval world and our own world in turn. In addition to the visible remains. Roman law left its definite imprint on Europe's legal and political systems. and through them on most of the world's systems. The Latin language unified the intellectuals of Europe for more than a thousand other years and the study of its literature helped form attitudes and patterns of thought that are still with us. LOUIS J. SCERRI. M.A .. is co-ordinator of the Systems of Knowledge course, and teaches 'Man and History' and English at the New Lyceum. Msida. THE MEDITERRANEAN STORY-TELLING SAILOR: ODYSSEUS AND SINBAD* Peter Serracino Inglott WISH, in the first place, to thank the organizers of the Third Assembly of I the Community of Mediterranean Universities for giving me the honour and pleasure of addressing them. One of the reasons why I have always admired the work of the Community since its birth, even when I was in exile from this University, is that the Community of Mediterranean Universities was never a mere talking-shop. The main work it has undertaken has been concerned with joint collaborative projects - in research, in teaching, in management arrangements, such as staff and student exchanges; all the three main aspects of university activity - but this practical orientation can never be dissociated, by university people, from fundamental theoretical reflection - especially from reflection on the question of identity - of the identity of Man - and, more particularly for us, of Mediterranean Man. Consequently, when I was asked to give an address with the only proviso that it was to be on a humanistic topic, I felt immediately that I should provide some reflections on the undoubtedly prototypical figure of Mediterranean man - namely Odysseus; and equally that I should do so by comparing and contrasting him with another prototypical figure admirably cast, I think, to function as a foil to Odysseus - namely Sinbad from the Elf lajla u wahda. I was recently almost compelled to reflect on these prototypical figures of Mediterranean culture in the course of contributing to the compilation of a core syllabus for a common cultural background course to be taken by all future university students in our Island. In this context, I will recall that, for centuries, in Britain at least, it was thought that there could be only one kind of foundational university course - namely the study of classical civilization in its wholeness - i.e. including also its mathematical and scientific components. Unfortunately, a technological dimension is lacking in classical civilization. But the point was that you studied a finite civilization as a whole. For many years now, I have maintained and sought to implement the idea that in our context, it is more profitable to take a larger unit of study, namely * This paper was delivered at the Third General Assembly of the Community of Mediterranean Universities held at the University of Malta, June 1988. HYPHEN. VO!. v. Number 6 290 PETER SERRACINO INGLOTT Mediterranean civilization; and this for two main reasons: firstly, it comprehends the study of the instruments of Mediterranean civilization, essentially the study of dialogue between different cultures, co-existing or subsisting within a common environmental framework; secondly, it substitutes the study of a dynamic and open process, for that of a somewhat statically conceived (because of the small time-frame) and finitely bounded, closed system, such as the classical world. In practice, adopting the Mediterranean civilization as a whole instead of the classical age as a unit of foundational study means considering our heritage from the classical age in its historic interplay with the other great heritage of the Mediterranean, of Near Eastern origin, that is the Biblical tradition, in its Jewish, Christian, and Muslim forms. It means, for instance, as I propose very briefly to sketch out now, trying to understand the figure of Odysseus better by looking at him against the foil of Sinbad - the ancient, classical Mediterranean story telling sailor against the foil of his Muslim successor. I am taking a Muslim foil to the pagan prototype because of time restrictions. However. I wish to remark in a preliminary way that I was, incidentally, very struck yesterday by the fact that the presenter of the first paper, our distinguished Turkish colleague, in talking of that great historical Mediterranean hero. Suleiman the Great, whose magnificence has recently been the object of a great celebration at the British Museum in London, and whose memories are undying in our own Island. should have referred to the legend of the Christian St Brandan. The reference was made to the story of the Saint's landing on the back of a big fish mistaken for an island. The story actually links this to a stone-throwing episode by demonic creatures from the 'smithy of hell'. I would like here to recall also that the oldest known text of the story of St Brandan is a tenth-century Latin source; and there is also an Old French version of it, of the twelfth century. Since the St Brandan episode has, as has been always recognized, a very precise parallel in Sinbad the Sailor, a Dutch scholar, De Goeje (1889) used it to establish the terminus ante quem for the composition of the Sinbad component of the Elf lajla u wahda. But, as another scholar, Mia I. Gerhardt, I has pointed out, the story derives almost certainly from an older oral tradition - in fact, both its key elements are of at least Homeric origin. The idea of a moving island derives from the Aiolos episode in the Odyssey, while the stone-throwing demonic creatures clearly come from the Polyphemus episode. Thus, there are here mythical elements which appear first in a classical pagan context; next in a Muslim context with their meaning correspondingly transformed; and then in a Christian context, which again metamorphoses their meaning. This is the pattern of the process which I. Mia l. Gerhardt. 77u' Art of Story Telling. (Brill. 1963),241. ODYSSEUS AND SINBAD 291 we find in the history of Mediterranean civilization. Here I am going, however, to stick mainly to the first two contexts - the Classical and the Muslim. I want now to come quickly to the substance of my talk with the question, in the first place. why the unquestioned prototype of Mediterranean Man is not just a sailor. but he is above all a story-telling sailor. The answer is in fact given in the Odyssey itself. It has been obvious to all scholars and students of the Homeric epic that, in the carefully architectured structure of the work as we have it today, Canto 11 - containing the visit by Odysseus to the Kingdom of the Dead (the Nekya) - has been deliberately placed at the topographic and ideological centre of the whole epic. There are two main reasons for this: First, the episode gives us a picture of a view of the afterlife, the other world beyond death; and it establishes the very important point that, given the shadowiness of the post monem existence, it is reasonable to expect (in the absence of any Biblical revelation) that the present life and the present world, with all the hardships and trials it entails, is in the last analysis preferable to the ghostly existence of Hades. This is the first lesson which Odysseus draws and it is, in itself. a sufficient reason why the gods friendly to Odysseus had compelled him to undertake the dangerous expedition, in tears and anguish, to the underworld. Odysseus had been told that this was to enable him to get some indications from the soothsayer Tiresias about his journey back home; but, actually, what he is told eventually by Tiresias is very meagre from the practical point of view. The really important lesson that Odysseus learns is to overcome the haunting death wish that plagues every man - that the other world is preferable to Ithaca. But there is a second and more important reason for the centrality of the episode. Odysseus is praised and admired by the listeners of his tale in the underworld - and we too are hearing it from his own lips for the first time, given the structure of the epic - he is praised for his narrative power, for his story-telling ability, for his bardlike qualities, even more than for the heroism and wisdom of his actual doings. It is the ability of Odysseus to extract the meaning, the significance of his experience, that is seen to be his greater greatness. It is because the man of action doubles up, as it were, into a reflexive philosopher, because Odysseus is capable of transforming creatively his suffering into beauty, his ordeals into a poem, that the denizens of the Nekya praise him most - and in this we are meant to identify ourselves with them. It has been very clearly shown, especially by recent scholars such as Vidal Nacquet. that the Odyssey is the story of the return of Odysseus to human normality and of his ultimate, deliberate acceptance of the human condition through the experience of his travels, during which he faces a double set of worlds - each 292 PETER SERRACINO INGLOTT illustrating some monstrous abnormality, a conjunction of human and inhuman elements, each the converse of the other. But these experiences would have been valueless, had Odysseus not had the ability to interpret them, to draw out their relevance to the definition and clearer understanding of what it really is to be a man, to the definition of a human being - a being who is above other animals, but still less than a god. From this point of view it is interesting to compare very briefly the structure of the Odyssey, especially this narrative function, with the different narrative framework which we find in Sinbad almost as carefully architectured as in the Odyssey. Very roughly, as is well known, the Odyssey has a first part which describes the disorder reigning in Ithaca as a result of Odysseus' absence. It is only in Canto V that Odysseus himself appears and we hear, narrated mainly by himself, precisely in the Nekya episode, how he had been exposed to the circumambient chaos, to the monstrosities found away from home. And then, finally, there are the last cantos in which order is restored; so that the whole epic is centred, as I have said, on Odysseus' self-narration in which he appears as a protagonist and his superiority emerges even over his own men, who are destroyed by their own foolishness in the course of their exposure to the monstrous surroundings before reaching home. If we turn to the framework of the Sinbad story we find that it is made up of seven narrative parts corresponding to the seven voyages, and it is enclosed in a framework provided by the modest listener called Sinbad the Landlubber (sometimes translated the Porter, in any case the word signifies that he is somebody who sticks to the land; he is the non-sailor). And Sinbad the non-Sailor provides Sinbad the Sailor with an audience. It is Sinbad the Landlubber, the non-Sailor, who laments about inequality in front of the rich house of Sinbad the Sailor, and who provokes the latter to recount the hardships which led to the acquisition of his wealth. Both Sinbads have the same name and the same humanity, although one is rich and the other poor; one gives and the other receives hospitality; one narrates and the other listens. They are united precisely by the communication of the (moralistic) narrative. In the fourth voyage Sinbad the Sailor tells Sinbad the Landlubber (the non-Sailor); 'Be not abashed, you have become my brother now .. This relation between the two Sinbads binds the seven stories into a coherent whole. But even the stronger personality of the Sailor does not dominate the action any more than that of the Landlubber. There is hardly a protagonist. Sinbad the Sailor is hardly a 'character' in the sense that Odysseus is. Sinbad is courageous, and shows some of the wiliness of Odysseus, but, on the whole, he is defensive, he will not harm anyone if he can avoid it. Only when he is buried alive, in the climatic adventure of the fourth voyage, does he act savagely. This restrained ODYSSEUS AND SINBAD 293 mode of behaviour tallies with the philosophy of life he expresses which is opposed to the protagonism of Odysseus; it expresses typical Muslim piety, resignation to the will of Allah, a hope in divine mercy that is never disappointed, praise to God for all the 'wonders' he experiences in his voyages. The initial urge to travel, as we shall see, is the profit-motive; but soon this yields place to a deeper urge, which is just to see the wonders of the world - and, when calamities befall him. he bemoans his 'curiosity' - but it proves irresistible time and time again. It is essentially the desire to see the wonders of God's creation which prompts him to set sail again. I have so far tried to emphasize the importance of the narrative function, and already the way in which the narrative structure of the two stories is arranged begins to express the basic difference between the world-visions which the two epics expound. Basically, in the first epic, the story of Odysseus, there is the view that despite the chaotic experiences to which he is exposed, there is in the world itself, in the present world, a fixed and stable nature, return to which is salvation. while despite the outwardly more peaceful impression which Sinbad gives. the implication is of a deeper instability in the present earth and that the only fixed and stable point is outside the present earth: it is Heaven, it is Super nature; it is a view of the after-life which implies not the shado~ existence of the mind, the immortality of the soul, but which implies the resurrection of the body: which implies a home in which man as a whole, body and mind, will survive, identified as his real home. This difference in the concept of Nature and Super nature is the basic difference between the two archetypal figures which I have chosen to consider. Having first considered the implication suggested by the difference in the narrative structure of the two stories, I want to pass on to my second point which is the consideration of precisely the mobility/stability duality, which is the main theme of the two stories: the use of the image of travelling and its relation to story-telling in order to bring out what Man is. Very obviously. the key paradox of the human condition as represented by Odysseus. and as taken up by Sinbad, is the dialectical tension between the urge to mobility, to change, and hence to travel on the one hand, and the yearning for stability (or home) on the other. Travelling is, indeed, one of the most characterizing features of human existence: travelling with a home-destination. On the one hand. travelling is a basic mark of the animality of man. Mobility, no less than sleep and nutrition, are among the biological needs of animal existence. In the least-developed species of animals, the ability to move is most limited; but it increases as one ascends the ladder of evolution. The marvels of the migrations of birds across continents and fish across the oceans are well known, if so far little understood. 294 PETER SERRACINO INGLOTT There is a perspective within which human travelling can be seen to be in continuity with these physical and biological developments. Geographers have compared the movements of prehistoric man to the natural dispersion of animal and even vegetal species across the surface of the earth. Demographers have noted that human mobility is possible because of man's biological capacity to adapt himself to life in most geographical milieux. Interesting hypotheses have been formulated about the journeys of the most primitive men. The material conditions of life in the Stone Age did not allow cavemen to stick to their caves. The silicous stones, which were his only tools, were not to be found everywhere. The traces which our first ancestors have left outline the routes followed in search of appropriate raw materials - silex, bronze, ivory. amber, gold, rare shells - over the surface of the earth. On the other hand, human habits of trav~lling differentiate man from other animals. Just as Man has transformed nutrition into gastronomy, sexual activity into marriage and love, gregariousness into politics, stones into statues, noise into music, so he has transformed travelling into an art. Man. the weak. terrestrial biped - because of his ability to transform material objects into tools and signs, media of production and communication - lacking the fins of fish, invented boats, and, lacking the wings of birds, invented aircraft. It took him millennia, but eventually he accomplished the old dream of !carus and walked on the moon. Likewise, he has plumbed the abysses of the ocean and the deep crevices of the earth. Thus, while on the one hand Man on a journey is an animal submitting himself to the necessities of nature, on the other hand he is also engaged in sublimating this animal function, by reading into it the call to transcend himself; and he has often understood this to be a divine call. Thus, on the one hand man became a sailor; on the other hand, the sailor also became a story-teller. Man narrates his voyages. In the course of this narration, he reflects not only on the history of his species, but also on the significance and purpose, if any, of his existence. The point of the narrative is that it does not leave mobility to be a meaningless satisfaction of a biological need but it shows it to be teleological, to have a destination and a purpose. The sailor's stories can therefore be seen to have two main dimensions. In the first place, the literature of voyages has always more or less reflected the history of voyages. And this is partly the interest of works like those of modern voyagers who have retraced the voyages of fictional heroes, such as Odysseus or Sinbad. The historical context is essential to the meaning, as I shall continue to emphasize as I go on, but the second and perhaps greater, although dependent, interest resides in the reflective themes that are intertwined with the historical references to make of the travel stories contrasting meditations on the human condition. ODYSSEUS AND SINBAD 295 Indeed the power of these stories is related to their mythical quality. By 'mythical'. I mean a story which narrates events that have the power to transcend time and so, in a sense, express some permanent-looking structures of human experience through the narratives of time-bound experiences. Odysseus and Sinbad, in fact, illustrate the two main aspects of the human journey. On the one hand, in the case of Odysseus, the dominant feeling at the core of the human heart is seen to be that of a nostalgia for a stable home. On the other hand, Sinbad's main theme is the restlessness of the human heart, eager to seek marvels and meetings with the extraordinary. Here, however, in the case of Sinbad, man feels himself to be in exile. not when he is travelling abroad but rather as long as he is locked in a humdrum and banal existential routine. But in the two main types of travel-stories, the journey gives birth to a literary work precisely because of its anchorage to a fixed point, to a 'home' where the voyager can feel free to 'exhibit' himself as he really is. Basically the traveller's tale is about the human 'home', the human destination, but where that really is turns out to be located differently for travellers at different times and places, and with different philosophies. A first explanation, in fact, of the contrast between Odysseus and Sinbad stems from the historical and the geographical location of their different voyages. Odysseus belongs to the ancient world, Sinbad to the medieval. It is typical of most ancient travel stories that in them man rarely consoles himself when travelling by imagining a welcoming new country. His thoughts are fed and his writing instinct is stimulated rather by the hope of returning from exile to his native land, a return to the origin, and it is this hope of a return to a lost golden age or state which inspires the beauty of his tale. The wanderings are always less important than the evocation of the distant fireplace. The charm of foreign lands is discounted by demistification, as we saw even the charm of the afterworld, and the end of the voyage is the cause of celebration. On the contrary, medieval stories, like the Sinbad story, reflect a different context. The situation is now no longer one in which man is essentially a hunter or a farmer, as Mediterranean men were in the Homeric and indeed in the ancient age where their life was essentially bound by a very limited spatial context, bound to the earth which was the only source of food and riches. On the contrary in the medieval Mediterranean world, we are in a world in which trade, commerce, has become the paramount factor in the material conditions of life. The classical Mediterranean world undoubtedly owes its prosperity to the unique geographical feature which is the Mediterranean Sea, the only large inland sea existing on the surface of the earth. It was this lake in the middle of the Mediterranean lands which explains the extraordinary radiance of classical 296 PETER SERRACINO INGLOTT civilization. It was this sea which made possible rapid and cheap communication between its parts. One has only to remember that it cost less to transport wheat from Egypt to Rome by sea than to transport that same wheat from the port of Ostia to Rome, a short distance of about twenty miles. Essentially, the classical world was an enclosed world with bounds which were impassable to the people of their age: the deserts and the mountains to the South and to the North respectively. The prosperity, on the contrary, of the medieval world was due to the fact that it had become a communication link between two different worlds: North-Western feudal Europe, especially because of its production of wool. and the Far East, India and China, with their production of silk and spices. Both the European Mediterranean nations and the Muslim nations built their economic fortunes, which allowed the cultural flourishing of both civilizations, on their functioning as links, as traders, as sailors and also land-travellers, between these two worlds. So in this perspective, the sailor called Sinbad, unlike the sailor who was Odysseus, does not travel in the Mediterranean; he travels on the other side, in the Indian Ocean. His travels are not a circulatory punishment preventing him from reaching home but are undertaken precisely to establish a communication link with a distant, outside world; and by functioning as this communicating link establishing both his material and his spiritual greatness. There is a symmetry in the structure of the Sinbad stories which is reflected in its ethics. It is true that there is no gain without pain (Sinbad the Sailor's wealth has not been gained without hardship), but equally there is no pain without gain (the sailor's hardship always and amply lead to financial reward). But this second maxim is held to be true, apparently, by implication in the story only in the world of maritime trade. Here, the Arabs had created a credit system and a reliability of the market that contrasted very favourably with the absence of organized 'banking' and the untrustworthiness of the land-based trading system. 'Sinbad the Sailor' is a hymn to the beauty of overseas commerce - which bathes the visited countries themselves in an aura of honesty and generosity. The dangers faced by Sinbad are caused by physical nature, by natural elements, but not by humans. unlike those of Odysseus. So we have here a reflection in this different concept of the voyage which is clearly related to the difference in historical circumstances. Odysseus' considerations of his troubles as impediments on the way to his reaching home are an expression of the human condition in a world in which hunting and agriculture dominate, that is in which there is a bond tying man to a particular spot on earth. The attitude of Sinbad, which regards staying at home a condemnation to a humdrum and banal existence and travelling as the exposure of man to the opportunities of widening his experience, of accumulating wealth, of growing beyond himself, is the reflection of the civilization which has ODYSSEUS AND SINBAD 297 established not just trade but cross-cultural exchange in both material and intellectual goods as the basic structure of its economic and material wealth. This change is also reflected in different attitudes to the sea itself. In the Odyssey, as is well known, the great enemy of Odysseus is Poseidon, the god of the sea. This hostility of the Sea-god is attributed to Odysseus' having blinded the son of Poseidon. Polyphemus - i.e. to his having literally taken the light out of the monstrous son of Chaos. The Sea is the obvious symbol of mobility, of the changefulness which is the opposite pole to the stability of home that is Odysseus' lodestar. On the contrary, for Sinbad, the sea is the positive stimulant out of the rut of the landlubber. Again here we have an expression of the difference between the seas in question: on one hand the Mediterranean - in the classical world, an enclosed sea - on the other hand the Indian Ocean - an open sea, a link to another world. Thus, I think, the difference in the historical location and in the geographical location of the journey goes a good deal to showing how the historical and spatial contextualization contributes to the establishment of the meaning not only of travelling as such but also of human life conceived as a journey; as a journey the end of which is either return to a home on earth or the anticipation in this world of a home in another world, in a supernatural world, i.e. in a world which is the transfiguration. the transcendence, of our present world and also of our present nature. A view of life which is quite absent from the classical, pagan view but which is, of course, dominant in the biblical, Jewish, Christian, and Muslim view of life. I have so far looked very rapidly over three aspects of Odysseus in contrast with.Sinbad: his function as a narrator, as a traveller in a particular space-time context. as an existential philosopher. I want now in order to conclude, to go briefly over these three aspects from a present-day perspective. It has been (I think rightly) said that Muslim philosophy is essentially Greek philosophy carried over into the Arabic language. I think it can be said with some exaggeration that the Sinbad stories are the Odyssey carried over into a Muslim context. Let us look, for instance, quickly at the Sinbad story which is most clearly a version of an Odyssey episode. (It is the story told during the 55 1st night of the Elf lajla u wahda.)2 Sinbad's vessel was shipwrecked, and with some of his companions Sinbad manages to reach a strange island. Here, they are taken over by a king and his naked subjects who first stupefy their captives with food and drink. and then they kill and eat them - raw. What is most striking in this episode, as George Sarton has observed, 3 is not so much the cannibalism, but the 2. In the so-called Second Calcutta Arabic edition (1839-42). 3. George Sarton. 'A story from the Arabian Nights'. in lsis. XXVIII (1938), 325-6. 298 PETER SERRACINO INGLOTT stupefaction of the captives, and their degradation from the status of individual human beings into a cattle-like condition. Sarton went on to note the obvious parallelism with notorious events in modern history - in supposedly civilized countries - where also human beings have been reduced by various techniques of conditioning - not excluding drugs - into 'cells of a larger and fiendish entity' - the totalitarian state which Hobbes labelled with the name of the mythical Biblical, marine monster, Leviathan. This consideration, in both the Odyssey and Sinbad, of monstrosity represented not only by features such as cannibalism but especially by mind-conditioning, is. as is well-known, frequent. It occurs in at least three of the main episodes of the Odyssey where it is the human mind or the human memory which is affected in order to lead to the destruction of the body. But the difference between the two is that, while there is an implicit dualism in the Greek picture, that is the body is seen as not really representing the human being which on the contrary is represented by the mind or the spirit, in the Muslim story there is a unitary picture of man by which man is seen as a whole being, essentially a body which has a mind. This different concept of man as a thinking animal rather than as a ghost imprisoned in an animal shape is still linked to the different view of the after-life which, as I tried to show at the beginning, explains the different narrative framework adopted in the Odyssey on the one hand and in the Sinbad stories on the other. The concept of the after-life, in the first, Greek, case, is essentially one of the immortality of the soul, of shadowy, purely spiritual, mental survival; in the Sinbad story, the view of the after-life is of man's eventual home after death being one in which it is the whole man, a body which has a mind, that enjoys life, indeed a super-life, precisely because the human being can identify himself with his own resurrected self, in a way in which the Greek hero could not identify himself with the shades, with the shadows, with the ghosts whom he encounters in the Nekya. This different concept of man, dualistic or monistic, in however qualified a way, is, I think, the most basic difference between the two stories. It is the difference in the definition of Man. In the second place, I considered the interpretation of travelling in the two stories related to these two concepts of the ultimate human home as the teleological dimension which story-telling gave io travelling. Today we are living in an age of tourism. Never have human beings travelled as much, for a large variety of reasons, from exile and emigration to exploration and enjoyment, than in our age. And in this massive touristic movement, of course, the Mediterranean occupies a special place, precisely because of its historic heritage as well as of its environmental characteristics. I stressed in this context how the dominance of first hunting and then an agricultural civilization conditioned the experience and the interpretation of human habitation, and how this changed ODYSSEUS AND SINBAD 299 when commerce and trade became more important in the Mediterranean context. In the subsequent phase of the history of Mediterranean civilization, that is the industrial phase, the Mediterranean went into a period of eclipse in comparison with its centrality and flourishing in both the Ancient agricultural age and the Medieval commercial age. The importance of the development of the tertiary sector and especially of media of communication, both in the sense of transport and of the transfer of information are precisely the historical conditions which are at the present moment, I think, creating the conditions for the Mediterranean to reassume an advanced position in the progressive history of civilization. Thirdly, this position will only be ensured if the mere physical travelling and the physical transfer of information is coupled with that reflexive ability, the doubling-up ability. which the inhabitants of the Nekya recognized as Odysseus' greatest quality: the ability to interpret the significance of these material and physical developments in a teleological perspective, that is in relation to the questions about the purpose, the why and the wherefore of human existence, with its paradox of constant mobility and yearning for a stable fixed point, an end and goal which would give meaning to the mobility. In this search, I think that the first aspect which I considered, that is the story telling aspect, is something which needs revaluation. It was an illusion began by Aristotle that mythical explanations, that is explanations in terms of stories, narratives of events which were contingent, which happened the way they did but might have happened in a different and other way, explanations which leave room for free decisions by the individual, although they are necessarily taken within a conditioning framework of natural laws, are completely replaceable by scientific explanations. that is in language which describes happenings exclusively as determined by natural and universal laws. I think that recovering awareness of the irreplaceable value of myth, of story-telling, of narrative, as the only kind of language which can bring out one essential aspect of human existence, that is its range, however narrow, of freedom, is a necessity. The telling of mythical stories is complementary to the scientific and technological pursuits which create the material basis for the exercise of human freedom in the cosmic context. I think that the re-evaluation of this humanistic heritage of the Mediterranean, its literary and artistic heritage, its wealth of symbolic resources, is a task of equal importance as the development of the scientific and technological language which it is absolutely necessary that we also acquire. It can still be a singular contribution which the Mediterranean world can make to world civilization today. REVD. PROF. PETER SERRACINO INGLOTT is Head of the Department of Philosophy at the University of Malta. HYPHEN: 1977 - 88 A Journal of Melitensia and the Humanities Author/Analytical Title Indexes compiled by John Azzopardi S.J. (Owing to limitations of space in these indexes M. stands for Malta, Maltese, MaIti, Maltija) 1977 il Sentimento dell'Infinito' '79, 6: 35-40 1978:2-.\ BOISSEV AIN, Jeremy, 1979 : 5, 6 'Seasonal Variations on Some Vol. II, I. 2 : 1979 Mediterranean Themes' Ill: 9-15 3,4: 1980 'Residential Inversion: The 5, 6 : 1981 Changing Use of Social Space \""i. Ill. I 1981 in M.' V: 53-71 2-5 1982 BONANNO, Anthony, 'Two 6: 1983 Archaeological Sites Recently Yoi. IV, 1983 Discovered at L-Iklin' 11: 212-20 2-4: 1984 'The Tradition of an Ancient 5, 6 : 1985 Greek Colony in M.' IV: 1-17 Vol. V, 1,2: 1986 'Contiguita e Continuita 3, 4 : 1987 Cuiturale e Linguistica fra 5, 6 : 1988. Sil'ilia eM. in Eta Prearaba' V: 241-52 AUTHOR INDEX BONAVIA, Hector J .. 'En Cream le Personnage de ABELA, Vivienne, 'Browning's Figaro Beaumarchais s' est Men and Women - The Deerit Lui-meme' IV: 119-20 World they Shared' II: 222-30 BONNICI. Alexander, 'A AGIUS, George, and Struggle for Survival through Ventura, Frank, 'Black and a Year of Famine 1647 -48' '79, 6: 1-16 White Positive Slides' '78, 2: 31-4 'The Ministers of the ATTARD, Edwin, 'The Inquisition Tribunal in M.' V: 1-18 Romantic Spirit of John Keats' Ill: 165 - 70 BORG, Lawrence, 'Computer AXIAK, Victor. 'Turning the Arithmetic' '77: 44-52 Blue into Black: The BORG, May, 'The Kappil/all of Mediterranean Oil Pollution M. ' '79, 6: 41-3 Problem' '79, 5: 41-7 BRIFFA, Charles, 'An Exercise 'A Brief Account of in Practical Criticism: Territorial Behaviour in G. M. Hopkins' The Animals' II: 19-25 Willdhm'er' IV: 19-23 AZZOPARDI. Mario, 'Lil!ii 'Purgation in Plato and Codda - Kummentarji' IV: 55-78 Dante' V: 281-4 AZZOPARDI. Roman, 'The BRIGUGLIO, Lino, 'The M, Motif of Daughters in 7711! Economy since 1960' V: 205-23 Power alld the Glory' II: 130-5 BRINCAT, Joseph M., 'La 'Interlude with the Lehrs: Storia della Linguistica' V: 161-7 No Surrender in The Power BRINCAT, Joseph M. and alld fhe GlorY' V' 137 - 45 Friggieri. Oliver, 'DemghaT BALUC!. Louis D .. 'Invito alia Tas-Si(~. Dahla u Analizi Lettura del Sal//' '77: 40-3 Strutturali' '79,6: 17-29 BALZAN, Rena, 'Heredity: A BUGEJA, Gerard, 'La Noia di Fact that Can be Tampered Ungaretti' '79, 5: 26-8 with?' '78, 2: 26-9 'Appunti su Polikl/sc'ka' III: 32-6 BOFFA, Francis, '11 Leopardi e 'La NI/vola di Smog: HYPHEN - INDEXES 197711988 301 Ricerca di un Eden' Ill: 205-10 'The Hotspur of the North' II: 27 - 33 'La Figura Femminile in tre 'The Honest Villain' Ill: 197 -204 Novelle del Novecento' IV: 25-31 CUSCHIERI. Anthony, 'Karl 'L'Umanesimo di Calvino' V: 95-9 Marx on Human Nature' II: 115 - 22 BUGEJA, Joseph D., 'M. CUTAJAR, Dominic, 'An Administrations and Reserved Interpretation of M. Matters 1921-33' IV: 79-118 Prehistory' Ill: 176-84 BURGESS, L., 'Il Gattopardo' II: 142 - 3 'The Lure of the Orient. The CAMILLERI, J.J., 'The Keenan Schranzes, the Brockdorffs, Report: A Definition' '78, 4: 1-8 Preziosi and other Artists' V: 101 - 36 'A Question of the DELIA, Emanuel P., 'Return Alphabet' IV: 47-54 Migration to the M. Islands in CARUANA, Carmel, 'wrd Jim the Post-war Years' Ill: 1-8 - The Romantic Feeling of 'Modern Emigration from Reality' II: 71-82 M.: A Liability?' III: 142-64 CARUANA CARABEZ, DE LUCCA. Denis. 'Islamic Charles, 'Ulysses in Dante Architectural Manifestations and Tennyson' '79, 5: 36-40 in Eighteenth-Century Mdina' IV: 159-68 'Macbeth and the Concept ELLUL. Grazio V .. 'The of Multiple Futures' Ill: 24-31 French Invasion of M.: An 'An Exercise in Practical Unpublished Account' '78, 3: 1-20 Criticism: Owl' IV: 135-8 EYNAUD. Charles, 'The 'A Backdrop to Heaney: An "New" Mathematics Outline of Irish Political Ad\'anced Level Syllabuses' '78, 4: 15 -17 History' V: 225-31 EYNAUD. Joseph. 'Memoria e CASSAR, Carmel, 'The First Poesia Verghiana' '78. 3: 40-3 Decades of the Inquisition FALZON. Alfred. 'Moliere: 1546-81 ' IV: 207-38 L'Homme a la Conquete de CASSAR, Paul, 'The I 'Ideal' '78, 3: 51-2 Correspondence of a Senglea FALZON, Alfred, and Gatt, Merchant during the Plague of Frank, 'La Composition 1813' II: 147-57 Franc;aise' III: 269-72 'The First Documented FALZON. Grazio. 'Rebel in the Case of Drug Addiction in M. Mind: The Poetry of Mario - Samuel Taylor Coleridge' Ill: 52 -61 Azzopardi' V: 19-38 CASSAR PULLICINO, J., 'The FARRUGIA. Albert. 'The Field of M. Folklore' V: 73-84 Problem of Light: The First CIANT AR, Agnes, 'Games with Rumblings of the Wave- the Fibonacci Series' '79, 6: 44-8 Particle Duality' '79, 5: 29-35 CLARE, Arthur G., 'The EEC FAVA. Emanuel. 'Accounting' Ill: 171-5 in Focus' '78,4: 18-20 . A Simple Guide to the , "A" Level Economics and U.K. Companies Act 1981' Ill: 253-68 the Student' '79, 5: 41 - 2 'Interpretation of Balance 'Features of an Island Sheets and other Financial Economy: M. 1800-1914' II: 235 -55 Statements: Preliminary CONSIGLIO. John A .. Reflections' V: 85-94 . Inflation and Currency Rates' Ill: 211 - 14 FERNANDEZ. John. 'An CREMONA, David, 'Antony: Introduction to Accountancy' Ill: 73-7 The Shakespearean Colossus' '78, 2: 36-46; FRIGGIERI. Oliver, 'I1-Mllza '78, 3: 21-30 M. bhala Test ta' Referenza 302 GWANN AZZOPARDI ghall-Istharrig tal-Poezija M.' '77: 29-33 LUTTRELL, Anthony, . Spunti ghal Stharrig ta' 'Eighteenth-Century M.: Taht met Sa/mid '78, 4: 21-5 Prosperity and Problems' III: 37-51 "Gorg Zammit: Ix-Xejriet 'M. before 870: Libyan Ewlenin ta' Ruh Romantika' 11: 89-95 Connections' IV: 127-33 'Il-Poeti Modemi M. - 'Ibn Hauqal and Tenth- Tradizzjoni, Zvanmgg Storiku Century M.' V: 157-60 u Bidla mill-Qiegh" 11: 256-62 MALLIA-MILANES, Victor, 'Ezempji ta' Estetika 'Towards an Economic Romantika M.' Ill: 116-25 History of Eighteenth-Century 'Dun Karm: Il-Lehen M.' '78, 2: 1-25 Poetiku ta' Nazzjon' Ill: 273-8 'The Order of St John 'Dahla Generali ghal Xejriet 1792 - 7: Impending Collapse tal-Kritika Letterarja of a Glorious Heritage. The Moderna' IV: 32-8 Despatches of Antonio Miari, 'll-Lingwa Letterarja u I-M. Venetian Minister in M.' III: 89-115 Standard' IV: 247-51 MAMO, Alfred, 'Nuclear FRIGGIERI, Oliver, and Power for the Future' '78,4: 30-3 Brincat, Joseph M., 'Demghat MA YO, Peter, 'Great ras-Silg. Dahla u Analizi Expectations: An Intro Strutturali ' '79, 6: 17 -29 duction' III: 245-52 GALEA. Carmel, 'Hydro 'Milton: Of the Devil's ponics. Plants without Soil' '77: 24-7 Party' IV: 121-6 GALEA, Robert, 'Calculus. A MICALLEF, Dominic, '1921: Powerful Mathematical Tool' '78, 2: 47 -50 Electoral Issues' 11: 158-68 GALEA SCANNURA, Charles, MICALLEF, Joseph, 'The Building of the Cottonera 'Accounting Techniques in Fortifications: A M. Protest Business Management' III: 135 -40 against Taxation' Ill: 185 -96 'Management Accounting GATT, Frank and Falzon, - An Application to Alfred, 'La Composition Marketing' IV: 173-7 Fran,aise' Ill: 269-72 MIFSUD, Alfred, 'Information GRIMA, Joseph F., ' "Gente di Technology' V: 149-56 Capo" on the Galleys ofthe MIFSUD, Paul V., 'Sliema: A Order in the first Half of the Study in Urban Growth' '79, 5: 1-9 Seventeenth Century' 11: 51-70 MUSY, Gisele, 'The Energy HEYWOOD, Paul and Outlook' 11: 83-8 Serracino Inglolt, Peter, PACE, Frank, 'A Study of 'Systems of Knowledge' V: 181-203 Brains: An Exercise in the HOPPEN, Alison, 'The Understanding of Evolution- Fortification of M., ary Trends at Work' '79, 5: 10-25 1530 - 1798: The Impact on RUTHERFORD, Andrew, 'A the M.' 11: 103-14 Passage to India: Its Politics, LANFRANCO, Edwin, 'Seed Ethics and Metaphysics' '78, 4: 9-14 Dispersal in M. Plants' '79, 6: 30-4 SAMMUT, Frans, 'New LANFRANCO, Guido, 'Some Directions in M. Poetry' III: 78-88 Fallacies and Misconceptions SANT, Michael A., 'Gold and in the M. Islands' '77: 34-9 Silver Coinage in M. 'Supplementing your 1530-1798: The Order's Practical Biology at Home' '78, 4: 26-9 Stand against Falsification of HYPHEN - INDEXES 197711988 303 Money' Ill: 233-44 VELLA, Andrew P., SARE, John, 'Methods of 'Mediterranean M,' IV: 169-72 Library Research' II: 189-92 'Che Cos'e' la Storia?' IV: 138-50 SA VONA VENTVRA, C., 'Sea VELLA, Joseph, 'L-Element Turtles' II: 96-100 Romantiku f Il-lien u Lil-hinn SCERRI, Louis J., 'Courtly Minnu' II: 136-41 Love. A Short Note on the 'Il-Poezija M.: Dak li Tales of the Franklin and the Jinbidel u dak li Jibqa' , Ill: 16-23 Wife of Bath' '77: 19-23 VELLA, Marianne, 'Wilfred 'The Pardoner and his Tale' II: 264-70 Owen: An Introduction' II: 176-82 . A Concise Glossary of VELLA BONAVITA, Roger, Critical Terms' HI: 62-72 'Britain and M. 1787-98' '77: 2-17 'The Examined Life' V: 233-9 VENTURA, Frank and Agius, 'The Heritage of Rome' VI: 285-8 George, 'Black and White SERRACINO INGLOTT. Positive Sides' '78,2: 31-4 Peter. 'M. Literature in the VENTURA, Frank, 'Ptolemy's Sixties' '78, 3: 44-9 M. Co-ordinates: A 'The Mediterranean Story- Re-assessment' VI: 253-69 telling Sailors: Odysseus and WERNER, Jean-Benedict, 'Le Sinbad' VI: 289-99 Theatre Fran~ais: Hier et SERRACINO INGLOTT, Peter Aujourd'hui' '78, 4: 34-6 and Heywood, Paul, 'Systems 'Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme of Knowledge' V: 181-203 de Moliere' II: 34-6 SPITERI. Paul. 'The WETTINGER, Godfrey, Philosophical Problem in 'Burials in M. Churches: Dostoevsky's Crime and 1419-1530s' IV: 39-45 Punishment' VI: 273-80 ZAMMIT, Edward L., 'Aspects STIV ALA, Adrian, 'Il Mito of British Colonial Policies Calvino' II: 169-75 and M. Patterns of Behaviour' II: 195-211 SULTANA, Andrew A .. ZAMMIT, Marthese, 'The 'Polymers' II: 38-47 Murie Tale of Chauntecleer' Ill: 126-34 SULTANA, Paul Peter, ZAMMIT, Michael, 'On 'Guidance and Counselling: Inspiration' VI: 270-2 The Helping Relationship' '79, 5: 48-50 ZAMMIT CIANTAR, Joe, VASSALLO, Mario, 'The 'Ornithological Toponyms in Computer' IV: 151-8 Gozo: Some Observations' II: 3 -17 VASSALLO, Peter, 'Allegory 'The Future Tense in the M. and the Old Man in Chaucer's Language' Ill: 215-28 The Pardoner's Ta/e' IV: 239-45 'M. tas-Seklu Tmintax' IV: 178-206 'Shakespeare's Notion of ZARB, Tarcisio, 'Francis Ebejer Morality in Anton.'" and u Qiegh I-Iceberg ta' Gzira Cleopatra' V: 41-52 Mediterranja' V: 146-8 VELLA, Alfred, 'Inorganic 'Analizi tal-Poezija "Mitan Complexes: An Introduction' '78, 3: 31-9 tas-Sejjieh" ta' Marjanu 'More about Inorganic Vella' V: 169-79 Complexes' II: 123-9 ANALYTICAL TITLE INDEX accountancy, An introduction to Ill: 73-7 accounting - an application to accounting Ill: 171-5 marketing, Management IV: 173-7 304 GWANN AZZOPARDI accounting techniques in Accounting techniques in Ill: 135-40 business management Ill: 135-40 administrations and reserved calculus, A powerful matters 1921-33, M. IV: 79-118 mathematical tool '78,2: 47-50 . A' level economics and the Calvino, Il mito II: 169-75 student '79, 5: 51-2 Calvino, L'umanesimo di V: 95-9 allegory and the old man in Chaucer's The Pardoner's Tale, Chaucer's The Pardoner's Allegory and the old man in IV: 239-45 Tale IV: 239-45 Chauntecleer, The Murie Taleoj Ill: 126-34 alphabet, A question of the IV: 47 - 54 coinage in M. 1530-1798: the analizi strutturali, Demghat tas- Order's stand against Silg, Dahla u '79, 6: 17 - 29 falsification of money, Gold Antony: the Shakespearean and silver Ill: 233-44 Colossus '78, 2: 36-46; Coleridge, The first documented '78, 3: 21-30 case of drug addiction in M. Antony and Cleopatra, Shakes- - Samuel Taylor Ill: 52-61 peare's notion of morality in V: 41-52 complexes: an introduction, Azzopardi, Rebel in the Mind, Inorganic '78, 3: 31-9 The Poetry of Mario V: 19-38 complexes, More about arithmetic, Computer '77: 44-52 inorganic II: 123-9 archaeological sites recently composition fran<;aise, La HI: 269-72 discovered at I-Iklin, Two II: 212-20 computer arithmetic '77: 44-52 computer. The IV: 151-8 balance sheets and other financial co-ordinates: A re-assessment. statements: preliminary Ptolemy's M. V: 253-69 reflections, Interpretation of V: 85-94 co-ordinates, On polar II: 183-8 Beaumarchais s'est decrit lui- Cottonera forti fications: a M. meme, En creant le protest against taxation, The personnage de Figaro IV: 119 - 20 building of the HI: 185-96 behaviour in animals, A brief counselling: the helping account of territorial II: 19 - 25 relationship. Guidance and '79. 5: 48-50 biology at home, Supplementing courtly love. A short note on the your practical '78, 4: 26-9 Tales of the Franklin and the Bourgeois Gentilhomme de Wife of Bath '77: 19-23 Moliere, Le II: 34-6 Crime and Punishment, The brains: an exercise in the Philosophical Problem in understanding of evolutionary Dostoevsky's V: 273-80 trends at work, A study of '79, 5: 10-25 critical terms. A concise glossary Britain and M. 1787-98 '77: 2-17 of III: 62-72 British colonial policies and M. currency rates, inflation and III: 211-14 patterns of behaviour, Aspects Dante. Purgation in Plato and V: 281-4 of II: 195-211 Brockdorffs, Preziosi and other Dante and Tennyson. Ulysses in '79, 5: 36-40 artists, The lure of the Orient. Dell/ghat /as-Si/g, Dahla u The Schranzes, the V: 101-36 analizi strutturali '79,6: 17-29 Browning's men and women - Dostoevsky's Crime and the world they shared II: 222-30 Punishment, the Philosophical burials in M. churches: Problem in V: 273 - 80 1419-1530s IV: 39-45 drug addiction in M. - Samuel business management, Taylor Coleridge, The first HYPHEN - INDEXES 197711988 305 documented case of Ill: 52 -61 galleys of the Order in the first Dun Karm: il-Iehen poetiku ta' hal f of the seventeenth nazzjon Ill: 273-8 century, 'Gente di Capo' on the II: 51 -70 Ebejer u qiegh I-Iceberg ta' gzira games with the Fibonacci series '79, 6: 44-8 Mediterranja, Francis V: 146-8 Gattopardo, Il II: 142-3 economics and the student, 'A' 'Gente di Capo' on the galleys level '79,5:51-2 of the Order in the first half economic history of eighteenth of the seventeenth century II: 51 -70 century M" Towards an '78, 2: 1-25 glossary of critical terms, A economy since 1960, The M, V: 205-23 concise Ill: 62 - 72 EEC in focus, The '78,4: 18-20 gold and silver coinage in M. eighteenth-century M.: 1530-1798: the Order's prosperity and problems Ill: 37 -51 stand against falsification of electoral issues, 1921: II: 158-68 money Ill: 233-44 emigration from M.: a liability?, Gozo: some observations, Modern Ill: 142-64 Ornithological toponyms in II: 3 -17 energy outlook, The I1: 83-8 Great Expectations: an estetika romantika M" Ezempji introduction Ill: 245 -52 ta' Ill: 116-25 Greek colony in M" The evolutionary trends at work, A tradition of an ancient IV: 1-17 study of brains: an exercise in guidance and counselling: the the understanding of '79, 5: 10-25 helping relationship '79, 5: 48-50 examined life, The V: 233-9 guide to the U,K, Companies Act 1981. A simple Ill: 253-68 Heaney: an outline of Irish fallacies and misconceptions in political history, A backdrop the M. islands, Some '77: 34-9 to V: 225-31 famine 1647 -48, A struggle for heredity: a fact that can be survival through a year of '79, 6: I - 16 tampered with? '78,2: 26-9 femminile in tre Novelle del 'Mitan tas-Sejjieh' ta' Marjanu Novecento, La figura IV: 25-31 Vella, Analizi tal-poezija Fibonacci series, Games with the '79, 6: 44-8 Hopkins' The Windhover, An Figaro, Beaumarchais s'est exercise in practical criticism: Mcrit lui-meme, En creant le G,M. IV: 19-23 personnage de IV: 119 - 20 Hotspur of the north, The II: 27-33 tinancial statements: preliminary human nature, Karl Marx on II: 115-22 reflections, Interpretation of hydroponics, Plants without soil '77: 24-7 balance sheets and other V: 85-94 folklore, The field of M. V: 73 -84 lbn HauqaJ and tenth-century M, V: 157-60 fortification of M., 1530 -1798: Iklin, Two archaeological sites the impact on the M" The II: 103-14 recently discovered at L II: 212-20 fortifications: a M, protest infinito, Il Leopardi e il against taxation, The building sentimento dell' '79, 6: 35-40 of the Cottonera Ill: 185 -96 inflation and currency rates Ill: 211-14 fran,ais: hier et aujourd'hio, Le information technology V: 149-56 theatre '78,4: 34-6 inorganic complexes: an fran,aise, La composition Ill: 269-72 introduction '78, 3: 31-9 French invasion of M,: an inorganic complexes, More unpublished account, The '78, 3: 1-20 about II: 123-9 306 GWANN AZZOPARDI Inquisition tribunal in M., The multiple futures Ill: 24 - 31 ministers of the V: 1-18 M. administrations and reserved Inquisition 1546 -- 81, The first matters 1921-33 IV: 79-118 decades of the IV: 207-38 M.: an unpublished account, The Inspiration, on VI: 270-2 French invasion of '78, 3: 1-20 introduction, Great M. before 870: some Libyan Expectations: an Ill: 245-52 connections IV: 127-33 Irish political history, A M. churches: 1419-1530s, backdrop to Heaney: an Burials in IV: 39-45 outline of V: 225-31 M. co-ordinates: A Islamic architectural reassessment, Ptolemy's V: 253-69 manifestations in eighteenth M.: dak lijinbidel u dak lijibqa', century Mdina IV: 159-68 ll-poezija Ill: 16-23 island economy: M. M, economy since 1960, The V: 205-23 1800-1914, Features of an Il: 235-55 M. folklore, The field of V: 73-84 M. . Ibn Hauqal and lien u ill hinn Minnu, L-element tenth-century V: 157-60 romantiku f /1- Il: 136-41 M .. Il-Mu~a M. bhala test ta' referenza ghall-istharrig Kappillan of M., The '79,6: 41-3 tal-poezija '77: 29-33 Keats, The romantic spirit of M. in eta Prearaba, Contiguita John Ill: 165-70 e continuita culturale e Keenan Report: a defmition, The '78,4: 1-8 linguistica fra Sicilia e V: 241-52 knowledge, Systems of V: 181-203 M. islands in the postwar years, kritika letterarja moderna, Dahla Return migration to the Ill: 1-8 generali ghal xejriet tal- IV: 32-8 M. islands, Some fallacies and misconceptions in the '77: 34-9 language, The future tense in the M. literature in the sixties '78,3: 44-9 M. Ill: 215-28 M .. Mediterranean IV: 169-72 Lehrs: No surrender in nil' M. patterns of behaviour, Power alld the Glory, Aspects of British colonial Interlude with the V: 137-45 policies and Il: 195-211 Leopardi e il sentimento M. plants, Seed dispersal in '79, 6: 30-4 dell'infinito, Il '79, 6: 35-40 M. poetry, New directions in Ill: 78-88 library research, Methods of II: 189-92 M. prehistory, An interpretation Libyan connections, M. before of Ill: 176-84 870: IV: 127-33 M.: prosperity and problems, life, The examined V: 233-9 Eighteenth-century Ill: 37 - 51 light: the first rumblings of the M. Residential inversion: the wave-particle duality. The changing use of social space in V: 53 - 71 problem of '79, 5: 29-35 M. standard, ll-lingwa letterarja linguistica, La storia della V: 161-7 u 1- IV: 247-51 lingwa letterarja u I-M. standard, M. tas-seklu tmintax IV: 178-206 /1- IV: 247-51 M .. n,l' Kappillan of '79, 6: 41-3 linji Godda - kummentarji IV: 55-78 M .. The tradition of an ancient literature in the sixties, M. '78,3: 44-9 Greek colony in IV: 1-17 Lord filii - the Romantic feeling M.. Towards an economic of reality Il: 71-82 history of eighteenth century '78,2: 1-25 M. - tradizzjoni, zvantagg Macbeth and the concept of storiku u bidla mill-qiegh, ll- HYPHEN - INDEXES 1977/1988 307 poeti moderni II: 256-62 Odysseus and Sinbad: the M .. 1530-1798: the impact on Mediterranean Story-telling the M .. The fortification of II: 103 -14 Sailor V: 181-203 M. 1787-98. Britain and '77: 2-17 oil pollution problem, Turning M. 1800-1914. Features of an the blue into black: the island economy II: 235-55 Mediterranean '79, 5: 41-7 management accounting - an Order of St John 1793-7: application to marketing IV: 173-7 impending collapse of a Marx on human nature, Karl II: 115 - 22 glorious heritage, The Ill: 89 -115 mathematical tool. Calculus, A Ornithological toponyms in powerful '78, 2: 47 -50 Gozo: some observations II: 3 -17 mathematics advanced level outlook, The energy II: 83-8 syllabuses, The 'new' '78,4: 15-17 Owen: an introduction, Wilfred II: 176-82 Mdina, Islamic architectural Owl, An exercise in practical manifestations in eighteenth criticism: IV: 135-8 century IV: 159-68 Mediterranean M. IV: 169-72 Pardoner and his tale, The II: 264-70 Mediterranean oil pollution Passage to India: its politics, problem, Turning the blue ethics and metaphysics, A '78,4: 9-14 into black: the '79, 5: 41-7 plague of 1813, The Mediterranean Story-telling Sailor: correspondence of a Senglea Odysseus and Sinbad, the V: 181-203 merchant during the II: 147 -57 Mediterranean themes, Seasonal Plato and Dante, Purgation in V: 281-4 variations on some Ill: 9-15 poesia Verghiana, Memoria e '78, 3: 40-3 men and women - the world poeti moderni M. - tradizzjoni, they shared, Browning's II: 222-30 zvantagg storiku u bidla mill Milton: of the devil's party? IV: 121-6 qiegh, 11- II: 256-62 ministers of the Inquisition poetry of Mario Azzopardi, tribunal in M. The V: 1-18 Rebel in the mind: the V: 19-38 mito Calvino, 11 II: 169-75 poetry, New directions in M. Ill: 78-88 Moliere, Le Bourgeois poezija M.: dak Ii jinbidel u dak Gentilhomme de II: 34-6 li jibqa', 11- Ill: 16-23 Moliere: l'homrne a la conquete polar co-ordinates, On II: 183-8 de I'ideal '78, 3: 51-2 Polikusc'ka, Appunti su Ill: 32-6 motif of daughters in The Power politics. ethics and metaphysics, and the Glory. The II: 130-5 A Passage to India: il~ '78,4: 9-14 mUltiple futures, Macbeth and polymers II: 38-47 the concept of Ill: 24-31 positive slides. Black and white '78,2: 31-4 Murie Tale of Chauntecieer, The Ill: 126-34 Power and the Glory, Interlude Muza M. bhala test ta' referenza with the Lehrs. No surrender ghall-istharrig tal-poeZija M., in 111e V: 137 -45 11- '77: 29-33 Power and the Glory, The motif nazzjon, Dun Karm: il-Iehen of daughters in The II: 130-5 poetiku ta' Ill: 273-8 power for the future, Nuclear '78,4: 30-3 Noia di Ungaretti, La '79,5: 26-8 practical biology at home, Novelle del Novecento, La figura Supplementing your '78, 4: 26-9 femminile in tre IV: 25-31 practical criticism: Owl, An nuclear power for the future '78,4: 30-3 exercise in IV: 135-8 Nuvola di Smog: ricerca di un prehistory. An interpretation of Eden, La Ill: 205-10 M. Ill: 176-84 308 GWANN AZZOPARDI Preziosi and other artists, The storia della Iinguistica. La V: 161-7 lure of the Orient. The syllabuses. The 'new' Schranzes, the Brockdorffs, V: 10 1-36 mathematics advanced level '78.4: 15-17 Ptolemy's M. co-ordinates: a systems of knowledge V: 181-203 re-assessment V: 253-69 Tallt T7iet Saltniet, Spunti ghal stharrig ta' '78,4: 21-5 question of the alphabet. A IV: 47-54 Tale. The Pardoner and his II: 264-70 Tales of the Franklin and the research. Methods of library 11: 189-92 Wife of Bath. Courtly love. A residential inversion: the short note on the '77: 19-23 changing use of social space technology. Information V: 149-56 in M. V: 53-71 Tennyson. Ulysses in Dante and '79.5: 36-40 return migration to the M. tense in the M. language, The islands in the postwar years III: I - 8 future III: 215-28 romantic feeling of reality. Lord territorial behaviour in animals, Jim - the 11: 71-82 A brief account of 11: 19-25 romantic spirit of John Keats. theatre fran.;ais: hier et The III: 165-70 aujourd'hui, Le '78,4: 34-6 romantika, Gorg Zammit: ix- tmintax. M. tas-seklu IV: 178-206 xejriet ewlenin ta' ruh II: 89-95 turtles, Sea 11: 96-100 romantika M .. Ezempji ta' estetika III: 116-25 U.K. Companies Act 1981, A romantiku f l/-Jiell u Lilhinn simple guide to the III: 253 -68 Minnll. L-element 11: 136-41 Ulysses in Dante and Tennyson '79, 5: 36-40 Rome, The Heritage of V: 285-8 umanesimo di Calvino, L' V: 95-9 Ungaretti, La Noia di '79, 5: 26-8 Saul. Invito alia lettura del '77: 40-3 urban growth, Sliema: a study in '79,5: 1-9 Schranzes, the Brockdorffs, Preziosi and other artists. The Vella, Analizi tal-poezija 'Mitan lure of the Orient, The V: 101-36 tas-Sejjieh' ta' Marjanu Vella V: 169-79 sea turtles 11: 96-100 Verghiana, Memoria e poesia '78, 3: 40-3 seasonal variations on some villain, The honest III: 197 -204 Mediterranean themes Ill: 9-15 seed dispersal in M. plants '79.6: 30-4 wave-particle duality, The Senglea merchant during the problem of light: the first plague of 1813. The rumblings of the '79, 5: 29-35 correspondence of a 11: 147-57 Windhot'er, An exercise in Shakespearean Colossus, practical criticism: G.M. Antony: the '78, 2: 36-46; Hopkins' The IV: 19-23 '78, 3: 21-30 Shakespeare's notion of morality Zammit: ix-xejriet ewlenin ta' in Allfony and Cleopatra V: 41-52 ruh romantika, Gorg II: 89-95 Sicilia e M. in eta Prearaba. Contiguita e continuita 1921: electoral issues 11: 158-68 culturale e linguistica fra V: 241-52 Sinbad, the Mediterranean story- telling sailor: Odysseus and V: 181-203 slides. Black and white positive '78,2: 31-4 Sliema: a study in urban growth '79,5: 1-9 storia'? Che cos'e' la IV: 138-50 The good sense of a Mid-Med Cheque Book Mary and John have their own directly into their account. current account and their own ~ They pay their bills by cheque Mid-Med Bank Cheque Book and have instalments and some ~They see a lot other fixed periodic payments of sense in paid regularly through the Bank. having their e They also feel much safer salaries carrying a Mid-Med Cheque Book transferred than carrying cash. ~) Have the good sense of a Mid-Med Cheque Book. 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