Next morning when I opened my copy of Natural History, a piece of paper fell out.
There was something written on it, in pencil, and it looked like Pliny's writing.
Here is a riddle just for you
Hair of gold and eyes of blue
Where's my lunch?
That didn't seem like much of a riddle. I'd been busy all day yesterday and hadn't had time to leave him any lunch, but there was plenty of bread and ham. Lazy old Roman.
I went looking for him.
Pliny, I said. Couldn't you have made your own lunch?
I did, said Pliny. What are you talking about?
The riddle, I replied.
Oh, the riddle, said Pliny. It wasn't finished. I was distracted by having to construct a sandwich. It isn't easy to do.
A riddle or a sandwich? I asked.
Both, he answered. But I meant the sandwich.
What about the riddle? I asked. Have you finished it yet?
Yes, he said, but it's probably too late now. Have you read page 68?
No, not yet. So what's the riddle?
Pliny recited:
Here is a riddle just for you
Hair of gold and eyes of blue....
He stopped. What do you think of the rhyme? he asked. We ancient Romans aren't used to rhyming.
You and blue? I said. An excellent rhyme, but do go on.
Taller than the average height
Generally keeping out of sight
A harsh voice too
Who am I?
I don't know, I said. Swedish people?
No! Pliny laughed, in a manner that seemed a bit forced.
It's a comical riddle, he explained. So the answer is what you would least expect.
Chinese people? I asked.
Pliny looked disappointed.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Taprobane
Pliny the Elder was home alone. It was hot. He wandered about the house idly looking for something to read.
His eye fell upon my copy of his Natural History.
I wonder where she's up to? he muttered to himself. I'll just open it up at the bookmark and see.
He opened the book at the bookmark, which was at page 68.
Taprobane! he said, his eyes misting over with pleasure. She'll like this section. This is where I introduce the Chinese.
He skimmed over the familiar lines.
They weren't as familiar as he remembered. Oh dear! he said to himself. I got that a bit wrong. She'll be needling me about it tomorrow. What can I do to prevent it?
He thought for a while.
I know, he said. I'll make up a comical riddle.
He sat down at a table with his fish-topped pencil, and began to compose.
Here is a riddle just for you
My hair is gold, my eyes are blue
A good rhyme, he said. That is a very good start. I think I'll have something to eat now, then finish it off after lunch.
His eye fell upon my copy of his Natural History.
I wonder where she's up to? he muttered to himself. I'll just open it up at the bookmark and see.
He opened the book at the bookmark, which was at page 68.
Taprobane! he said, his eyes misting over with pleasure. She'll like this section. This is where I introduce the Chinese.
He skimmed over the familiar lines.
They weren't as familiar as he remembered. Oh dear! he said to himself. I got that a bit wrong. She'll be needling me about it tomorrow. What can I do to prevent it?
He thought for a while.
I know, he said. I'll make up a comical riddle.
He sat down at a table with his fish-topped pencil, and began to compose.
Here is a riddle just for you
My hair is gold, my eyes are blue
A good rhyme, he said. That is a very good start. I think I'll have something to eat now, then finish it off after lunch.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
...and Lemmings
I keep thinking about your Hyperboreans, I said to Pliny the Elder. It seems a funny way to choose to die, by jumping off a cliff after a special dinner.
No, it doesn't , said Pliny. I might very well choose to do the same myself.
Hah! I said. You can't. It's too late for you.
I mean if I still had the choice before me, said Pliny.
I don't believe anyone would do that, I said. Except perhaps for lemmings. Where was it you said these Hyperboreans lived?
Beyond the Ripaean Mountains, said Pliny, which I think are these days called the Alps. In Hyperborea they enjoy six months of daylight at a time. There are found the hinges on which the world turns, and the limits of the circuits of the stars.
The Arctic? I said. Are you sure your Hyperboreans weren't actually lemmings? Because lemmings live up in those regions.
It is you who are confused, said Pliny. You probably think lemmings leap off cliffs in order to commit mass suicide. They do not.
I thought they did, I said.
No, said Pliny. That is where you have not kept up with modern research.
But what about that Disney Documentary, White Wilderness? I said. In 1958, they made a documentary that actually showed hundreds of lemmings jumping off a cliff to certain death. I think I saw it. No, I'm sure I did.
Aha, said Pliny. But did you see the The Cruel Camera, in 2008?
No, I said. Have I missed something?
It seems, said Pliny that the makers of White Wilderness, which won an Academy Award, by the way, transported lemmings from Hudson Bay to Calgary and launched them off a cliff using a turntable.
How dreadful, Pliny! I had no idea. Lucky you saw that and could put me right about lemmings.
One should always keep one's ears and eyes open, said Pliny.
I was silent for a while, thinking of the lemmings, and of the Hyperboreans.
Do you think, I asked, that something like that might have happened to the Hyperboreans?
What? said Pliny. That after dinner their guests shot them into the sea from a turntable?
No, I said, but maybe they didn't really want to go.
You don't understand the ancients at all, said Pliny.
No, it doesn't , said Pliny. I might very well choose to do the same myself.
Hah! I said. You can't. It's too late for you.
I mean if I still had the choice before me, said Pliny.
I don't believe anyone would do that, I said. Except perhaps for lemmings. Where was it you said these Hyperboreans lived?
Beyond the Ripaean Mountains, said Pliny, which I think are these days called the Alps. In Hyperborea they enjoy six months of daylight at a time. There are found the hinges on which the world turns, and the limits of the circuits of the stars.
The Arctic? I said. Are you sure your Hyperboreans weren't actually lemmings? Because lemmings live up in those regions.
It is you who are confused, said Pliny. You probably think lemmings leap off cliffs in order to commit mass suicide. They do not.
I thought they did, I said.
No, said Pliny. That is where you have not kept up with modern research.
But what about that Disney Documentary, White Wilderness? I said. In 1958, they made a documentary that actually showed hundreds of lemmings jumping off a cliff to certain death. I think I saw it. No, I'm sure I did.
Aha, said Pliny. But did you see the The Cruel Camera, in 2008?
No, I said. Have I missed something?
It seems, said Pliny that the makers of White Wilderness, which won an Academy Award, by the way, transported lemmings from Hudson Bay to Calgary and launched them off a cliff using a turntable.
How dreadful, Pliny! I had no idea. Lucky you saw that and could put me right about lemmings.
One should always keep one's ears and eyes open, said Pliny.
I was silent for a while, thinking of the lemmings, and of the Hyperboreans.
Do you think, I asked, that something like that might have happened to the Hyperboreans?
What? said Pliny. That after dinner their guests shot them into the sea from a turntable?
No, I said, but maybe they didn't really want to go.
You don't understand the ancients at all, said Pliny.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Hyperboreans
So that's the end of Wittgenstein and Saint Nicholas? said Pliny the Elder.
Yes, I suppose so, I said.
Good, said Pliny.
Why? I asked. I've grown to like them. I could probably keep on writing about them for ever.
I'm certain you could, said Pliny. And it was all very well during the holiday period, but there are more serious things to write about than philosophy, icecreams and paintball.
What do you have in mind? I asked.
Well, said Pliny. I'm glad that you've asked. I couldn't help noticing that you received a copy of my Natural History for Christmas. How are you liking it so far?
I think Professor Healy has done a good job, I said. I expected he would have chosen to present only the most interesting parts of your work, but he's given us quite a lot of the tedious stuff as well.
What tedious stuff? asked Pliny.
Geography, I said, for example. And it's all wrong.
It may be all wrong now, said Pliny, but it was all right at the time. Where are you up to?
The Hyperboreans, I replied. I'm enjoying reading about them. "Death does not come until they have had their fill of life. Setting a banquet, they greet their old age with luxury, and then leap into the sea from a certain rock. This method of burial is the most serene." It's all in the way that you tell it, of course.
Thank you , said Pliny. I'm aware of that.
Yes, I suppose so, I said.
Good, said Pliny.
Why? I asked. I've grown to like them. I could probably keep on writing about them for ever.
I'm certain you could, said Pliny. And it was all very well during the holiday period, but there are more serious things to write about than philosophy, icecreams and paintball.
What do you have in mind? I asked.
Well, said Pliny. I'm glad that you've asked. I couldn't help noticing that you received a copy of my Natural History for Christmas. How are you liking it so far?
I think Professor Healy has done a good job, I said. I expected he would have chosen to present only the most interesting parts of your work, but he's given us quite a lot of the tedious stuff as well.
What tedious stuff? asked Pliny.
Geography, I said, for example. And it's all wrong.
It may be all wrong now, said Pliny, but it was all right at the time. Where are you up to?
The Hyperboreans, I replied. I'm enjoying reading about them. "Death does not come until they have had their fill of life. Setting a banquet, they greet their old age with luxury, and then leap into the sea from a certain rock. This method of burial is the most serene." It's all in the way that you tell it, of course.
Thank you , said Pliny. I'm aware of that.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Proposition Seven
You can't disagree with Proposition Seven, Professor Freud, said Irma. You're always telling Emma and me to shut up.
Whatever are you talking about? asked Professor Freud.
When I was suggesting how the fish and the bird could, you know, and you wouldn't let me say it.
That was firstly because of your age, said Professor Freud, and secondly because an icecream shop is hardly the place for speaking of the things we cannot speak about.
Well, where is? asked Irma.
My consulting rooms of course, said Professor Freud. There, for a fee, one may speak of anything.
Professor Freud, said Wittgenstein crossly, Proposition Seven does not refer to things of a sexual nature.
Pardon me, said Professor Freud, but you would be surprised how many things are of a sexual nature, that are not recognised as such.
No, said Wittgenstein. I would not. But my proposition is a general philosophical one and I will not have it sullied. It is to do with statements that make sense and statements that do not.
Oh, I get it, said Irma. You mean, there's no point debating a nonsense.
Exactly right, clever girl, said Wittgenstein, looking triumphantly at Professor Freud.
But what's a nonsense ? asked Emma.
All of this discussion is a nonsense! said Saint Nicholas, getting up. Come on Ludwig, time to whisk ourselves off.
Tch! said Professor Freud. Gentlemen, please! Not in front of the girls!
Whatever are you talking about? asked Professor Freud.
When I was suggesting how the fish and the bird could, you know, and you wouldn't let me say it.
That was firstly because of your age, said Professor Freud, and secondly because an icecream shop is hardly the place for speaking of the things we cannot speak about.
Well, where is? asked Irma.
My consulting rooms of course, said Professor Freud. There, for a fee, one may speak of anything.
Professor Freud, said Wittgenstein crossly, Proposition Seven does not refer to things of a sexual nature.
Pardon me, said Professor Freud, but you would be surprised how many things are of a sexual nature, that are not recognised as such.
No, said Wittgenstein. I would not. But my proposition is a general philosophical one and I will not have it sullied. It is to do with statements that make sense and statements that do not.
Oh, I get it, said Irma. You mean, there's no point debating a nonsense.
Exactly right, clever girl, said Wittgenstein, looking triumphantly at Professor Freud.
But what's a nonsense ? asked Emma.
All of this discussion is a nonsense! said Saint Nicholas, getting up. Come on Ludwig, time to whisk ourselves off.
Tch! said Professor Freud. Gentlemen, please! Not in front of the girls!
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Proposition One, Point One, and Beyond
Proposition One, Point One, said Wittgenstein, ignoring the flow of conversation, is this:
The world is the totality of facts, not of things.
That's quite good, said Irma. That means there are not just icecreams, but facts about icecreams as well, that make up the world.
Yes, said Emma. Such as this icecream has raisins in it. And that icecream is smeared all over Professor Freud's glasses.
Oh, said Professor Freud. Is that why I can't see?
Would you like to borrow my handkerchief? asked Saint Nicholas.
No thank you, said Professor Freud stiffly.
What's the matter? asked Saint Nicholas.
There may be certain facts about your handkerchief, said Professor Freud.
I assure you there are not, said Saint Nicholas. Do go on, Ludwig, he said to Wittgenstein.
Ludwig! giggled Emma.
Be quiet, Emma, said Professor Freud.
Does anyone understand what I'm saying? asked Wittgenstein.
Yes of course we do, said Irma. You are saying that philosophy does not need a special language.
Then, said Wittgenstein, I see that I may skip to my final proposition, which is Proposition Seven.
Good, said Saint Nicholas, because we really must be going soon. What is it?
It is, said Wittgenstein, as follows:
What we cannot speak about we must pass over in silence.
I can't agree with that, said Professor Freud.
The world is the totality of facts, not of things.
That's quite good, said Irma. That means there are not just icecreams, but facts about icecreams as well, that make up the world.
Yes, said Emma. Such as this icecream has raisins in it. And that icecream is smeared all over Professor Freud's glasses.
Oh, said Professor Freud. Is that why I can't see?
Would you like to borrow my handkerchief? asked Saint Nicholas.
No thank you, said Professor Freud stiffly.
What's the matter? asked Saint Nicholas.
There may be certain facts about your handkerchief, said Professor Freud.
I assure you there are not, said Saint Nicholas. Do go on, Ludwig, he said to Wittgenstein.
Ludwig! giggled Emma.
Be quiet, Emma, said Professor Freud.
Does anyone understand what I'm saying? asked Wittgenstein.
Yes of course we do, said Irma. You are saying that philosophy does not need a special language.
Then, said Wittgenstein, I see that I may skip to my final proposition, which is Proposition Seven.
Good, said Saint Nicholas, because we really must be going soon. What is it?
It is, said Wittgenstein, as follows:
What we cannot speak about we must pass over in silence.
I can't agree with that, said Professor Freud.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Proposition One
Irma turned again to Wittgenstein.
If you're a philosopher, she said, you must have a philosophy. What is it, exactly?
It is laid out simply in my Tractatus, said Wittgenstein.
Eeuuw ! said Emma. What's your tractatus?
Now then, Emma! said Professor Freud. It is his famous philosophical publication the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. Your sister was asking a serious question. Listen to the answer.
I have answered, said Wittgenstein.
No you haven't, said Irma. What does it say, the Tractatus?
Wittgenstein sighed.
It says: Proposition One: The world is all that is the case.
Most profound, said Professor Freud. What do you think, girls?
It's not, said Irma. Because it's obvious. What's Proposition Two?
Never mind that yet, said Wittgenstein. It generally takes people longer to understand Proposition One.
Well, I understand it, said Irma.
So do I, said Emma.
I don't, said Saint Nicholas. What about miracles?
Wittgenstein looked pained.
If a miracle can be shown to be a fact, then it is part of the logical world. But once it becomes a fact, it is no longer truly a miracle.
Steady on! cried Saint Nicholas. That isn't right! What about.....?
Are you a philosopher too? interrupted Emma.
No, said Saint Nicholas. I'm a saint. I thought you knew who I was.
You're a fat man who is really bad at Paintball, said Irma.
Well, thank you, said Saint Nicholas. Thank you very much. At least I joined in.
You did, said Professor Freud. And you will do better next time.
That might require a miracle, said Saint Nicholas.
If you're a philosopher, she said, you must have a philosophy. What is it, exactly?
It is laid out simply in my Tractatus, said Wittgenstein.
Eeuuw ! said Emma. What's your tractatus?
Now then, Emma! said Professor Freud. It is his famous philosophical publication the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. Your sister was asking a serious question. Listen to the answer.
I have answered, said Wittgenstein.
No you haven't, said Irma. What does it say, the Tractatus?
Wittgenstein sighed.
It says: Proposition One: The world is all that is the case.
Most profound, said Professor Freud. What do you think, girls?
It's not, said Irma. Because it's obvious. What's Proposition Two?
Never mind that yet, said Wittgenstein. It generally takes people longer to understand Proposition One.
Well, I understand it, said Irma.
So do I, said Emma.
I don't, said Saint Nicholas. What about miracles?
Wittgenstein looked pained.
If a miracle can be shown to be a fact, then it is part of the logical world. But once it becomes a fact, it is no longer truly a miracle.
Steady on! cried Saint Nicholas. That isn't right! What about.....?
Are you a philosopher too? interrupted Emma.
No, said Saint Nicholas. I'm a saint. I thought you knew who I was.
You're a fat man who is really bad at Paintball, said Irma.
Well, thank you, said Saint Nicholas. Thank you very much. At least I joined in.
You did, said Professor Freud. And you will do better next time.
That might require a miracle, said Saint Nicholas.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
