No fourth course yet, and it's Tuesday already? Hideous thought, but the CRIMSON can help, for indeed Tu., Th. (and yes, regrettably) S. has spread a festive board. All of the following can be recommended unflinchingly, and at least one of them is bound to dissolve you in delight.
An impossible hour, admittedly, but not devoid of its virtues: H.M. Jones is offering what is probably the last year of his epic Hum 133a (Thought and Literature in the Nineteenth Century) which marshals, among others. Pere Goriot, Wuthering Heights, Sartor Resartus, Bleak House, Faust, and The Red and the Black into a tidy and orderly cultural unity. Professor Myron Gilmore, the hour's other virtue, presents three disunited centuries (roughly, 1300-1600) in an even stiffer course, his History 130: "The Age of the Renaissance and Reformation." Devious Machiavelli and the sainted Thomas More top the reading list.
If 9 is too grim for the Renaissance, try it at 10, when Professor W.J. Kaiser gives his "Thought and Literature of the Renaissance" (Hum 115) whose reading list squeezes in Boccaccio, della Mirandola, and Castiglione in addition to the two Ms snagged by Gilmore. Ranging further afield, Professors Ingalls and Rowland are waiting to introduce the civilization of India--Asoka to Khrishna Menon--in their Soc Sci 116. If these countries fail to entice, Merle Fainsod, back at his old listening post, continues his love-hate relationship with the Soviet dictatorship (in Gov. 115); and Professor Homans continues his simple love affair with early England, in a whirlwind tour of twelve-and-a-half centuries (!)--the course number is Hum 115.
One other course beckons at this barely civilized hour: Professor W. J. Bate's ambitious survey of the history of English literary criticism from then till now (Eng. 192). Bate, the only man on the Faculty who can make Samuel Johnson come to life, gives lectures that are a model of magnificence, and cannot be too highly recommended.
And then at the gentleman's hour of 11 comes a Renaissance course that you cannot well afford to miss: the third episode from Paul Tillich's own ring cycle: "The Self-Interpretation of Man in Western Thought." This term, Dr. Tillich has reached the Italian Renascimento, Nicolaus Cusanus, and Michelangelo.
But there are other courses at this pleasant hour, and some of them must even be mentioned. Eugene Rochow's only rival in masterful magic, the one, the only, the incomparable L.K. Nash bursts back from sabbatical in his all-new, slam-bang Chem count them 2. Avoid the first five rows of seats.
For the more, timorous, Professor Paul H. Buck will serve up a worthy home fry of hominy and homily called History 165a: "History of the south, 1790-1865"; and Alfred Harbarge and Daniel Seltzer, Pied Pipers of Hamlet, will lead thespians and others back through the mists of Tudor and Stuart drama (Eng. 125). And, a final note of the abstruse, L. I. Rudolph, his Max Weber clutched in his hand, will explore the bureaucracies of modern and developing societies (Government 121), a topic covered more succintly by C. Northcote Parkinson.
Courses at the luncheon hour are, of course, an absurdity.