| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Alcibiades II by Platonic Imitator: was hardly believed by the ancients themselves. The dialectic is poor and
weak. There is no power over language, or beauty of style; and there is a
certain abruptness and agroikia in the conversation, which is very un-
Platonic. The best passage is probably that about the poets:--the remark
that the poet, who is of a reserved disposition, is uncommonly difficult to
understand, and the ridiculous interpretation of Homer, are entirely in the
spirit of Plato (compare Protag; Ion; Apol.). The characters are ill-
drawn. Socrates assumes the 'superior person' and preaches too much, while
Alcibiades is stupid and heavy-in-hand. There are traces of Stoic
influence in the general tone and phraseology of the Dialogue (compare opos
melesei tis...kaka: oti pas aphron mainetai): and the writer seems to
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens: imploringly, 'talk in that monstrous manner. About to speak from
your heart. Don't you know that the heart is an ingenious part of
our formation--the centre of the blood-vessels and all that sort of
thing--which has no more to do with what you say or think, than
your knees have? How can you be so very vulgar and absurd? These
anatomical allusions should be left to gentlemen of the medical
profession. They are really not agreeable in society. You quite
surprise me, Ned.'
'Well! there are no such things to wound, or heal, or have regard
for. I know your creed, sir, and will say no more,' returned his
son.
Barnaby Rudge |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from A House of Pomegranates by Oscar Wilde: had just left. The walls were hung with a many-figured green arras
of needle-wrought tapestry representing a hunt, the work of some
Flemish artists who had spent more than seven years in its
composition. It had once been the chamber of JEAN LE FOU, as he
was called, that mad King who was so enamoured of the chase, that
he had often tried in his delirium to mount the huge rearing
horses, and to drag down the stag on which the great hounds were
leaping, sounding his hunting horn, and stabbing with his dagger at
the pale flying deer. It was now used as the council-room, and on
the centre table were lying the red portfolios of the ministers,
stamped with the gold tulips of Spain, and with the arms and
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