The departmentalism of American universities has doubtless much to recommend it. It indicates that exuberance is not a sufficient sub­ stitute for scholarship, that, for better or for worse, every scholar today must be something of a specialist. But when any great writer and great thinker reaches out and grasps the whole of human life, the study of his work transcends specialization. And while exuberance may not replace scholarship, it may accompany it. Most of my work has been done in the history of political philosophy. I have dared to overstep departmental boundaries, because I believe that Shakespeare has something to say to political philosophy. I am not the first to express this view. Whether I express it well or badly, I shall not be the last. I want to thank Leo Strauss, my teacher. He has read the manus­ cript and given me the benefit of his insight and judgment. I want to thank Richard Kennington, who has taken so much time from his own work to comment meticulously and constructively on this work as on other things I have written. His help has been generous, and my appreciation is deep. I must, in particular, thank my colleague, Adolph Lowe. He has perused this study, much of it in several versions. Through long walks in Manchester, Vermont, we have discussed my work and his comments. Usually his comments have been compelling. I can regret only that I am completely unqualified to reciprocate.

It was probably Rousseau who first thought of dreams as ennobling experiences. Anyone who has ever read Reveries du Promeneur Solitaire must be struck by the dreamlike quality of Rousseau's meditations. This dreamlike quality is still with us, and those who experience it find themselves ennobled by it. Witness Martin Luther King's famous "1 have a dream. " Dreaming and inspiration raise the artist to the top rung in the ladder ofhuman relations. That is probably the prevailing view among educated people of our time. Rousseau made that view respectable and predominant. Yet in another sense, the problem is much older. It is the problem of political philosophy and poetry, the problem of Socrates and Aristophanes, of Plato and Homer. Yet, while antiquity usually gives the crown to philosophy, since Rous­ seau, the alternative view tends to prevail. The distinction is not, however, a formal one. Sir Philip Sidney enlisted Plato on the side of poetry. The true distinction is between imagination and reason. If reason is to rule, as Aristotle points out,l the most architectonic of the sciences, that is political science, should rule. It is political philosophy which must determine the nature of the arts which will help or which will hinder the good of the city or the polity. That does not mean that a mere professor should stand in judgment of Shake­ speare, Bacon, and Rembrandt. It means that ifhe studies these three great artists, he is not over-stepping disciplinary limits.

It was probably Rousseau who first thought of dreams as ennobling experiences. Anyone who has ever read Reveries du Promeneur Solitaire must be struck by the dreamlike quality of Rousseau''s meditations. This dreamlike quality is still with us, and those who experience it find themselves ennobled by it. Witness Martin Luther King''s famous "1 have a dream. " Dreaming and inspiration raise the artist to the top rung in the ladder ofhuman relations. That is probably the prevailing view among educated people of our time. Rousseau made that view respectable and predominant. Yet in another sense, the problem is much older. It is the problem of political philosophy and poetry, the problem of Socrates and Aristophanes, of Plato and Homer. Yet, while antiquity usually gives the crown to philosophy, since Rous­ seau, the alternative view tends to prevail. The distinction is not, however, a formal one. Sir Philip Sidney enlisted Plato on the side of poetry. The true distinction is between imagination and reason. If reason is to rule, as Aristotle points out,l the most architectonic of the sciences, that is political science, should rule. It is political philosophy which must determine the nature of the arts which will help or which will hinder the good of the city or the polity. That does not mean that a mere professor should stand in judgment of Shake­ speare, Bacon, and Rembrandt. It means that ifhe studies these three great artists, he is not over-stepping disciplinary limits.

It was probably Rousseau who first thought of dreams as ennobling experiences. Anyone who has ever read Reveries du Promeneur Solitaire must be struck by the dreamlike quality of Rousseau's meditations. This dreamlike quality is still with us, and those who experience it find themselves ennobled by it. Witness Martin Luther King's famous "1 have a dream. " Dreaming and inspiration raise the artist to the top rung in the ladder ofhuman relations. That is probably the prevailing view among educated people of our time. Rousseau made that view respectable and predominant. Yet in another sense, the problem is much older. It is the problem of political philosophy and poetry, the problem of Socrates and Aristophanes, of Plato and Homer. Yet, while antiquity usually gives the crown to philosophy, since Rous­ seau, the alternative view tends to prevail. The distinction is not, however, a formal one. Sir Philip Sidney enlisted Plato on the side of poetry. The true distinction is between imagination and reason. If reason is to rule, as Aristotle points out,l the most architectonic of the sciences, that is political science, should rule. It is political philosophy which must determine the nature of the arts which will help or which will hinder the good of the city or the polity. That does not mean that a mere professor should stand in judgment of Shake­ speare, Bacon, and Rembrandt. It means that ifhe studies these three great artists, he is not over-stepping disciplinary limits.

The departmentalism of American universities has doubtless much to recommend it. It indicates that exuberance is not a sufficient sub­ stitute for scholarship, that, for better or for worse, every scholar today must be something of a specialist. But when any great writer and great thinker reaches out and grasps the whole of human life, the study of his work transcends specialization. And while exuberance may not replace scholarship, it may accompany it. Most of my work has been done in the history of political philosophy. I have dared to overstep departmental boundaries, because I believe that Shakespeare has something to say to political philosophy. I am not the first to express this view. Whether I express it well or badly, I shall not be the last. I want to thank Leo Strauss, my teacher. He has read the manus­ cript and given me the benefit of his insight and judgment. I want to thank Richard Kennington, who has taken so much time from his own work to comment meticulously and constructively on this work as on other things I have written. His help has been generous, and my appreciation is deep. I must, in particular, thank my colleague, Adolph Lowe. He has perused this study, much of it in several versions. Through long walks in Manchester, Vermont, we have discussed my work and his comments. Usually his comments have been compelling. I can regret only that I am completely unqualified to reciprocate.

The departmentalism of American universities has doubtless much to recommend it. It indicates that exuberance is not a sufficient sub­ stitute for scholarship, that, for better or for worse, every scholar today must be something of a specialist. But when any great writer and great thinker reaches out and grasps the whole of human life, the study of his work transcends specialization. And while exuberance may not replace scholarship, it may accompany it. Most of my work has been done in the history of political philosophy. I have dared to overstep departmental boundaries, because I believe that Shakespeare has something to say to political philosophy. I am not the first to express this view. Whether I express it well or badly, I shall not be the last. I want to thank Leo Strauss, my teacher. He has read the manus­ cript and given me the benefit of his insight and judgment. I want to thank Richard Kennington, who has taken so much time from his own work to comment meticulously and constructively on this work as on other things I have written. His help has been generous, and my appreciation is deep. I must, in particular, thank my colleague, Adolph Lowe. He has perused this study, much of it in several versions. Through long walks in Manchester, Vermont, we have discussed my work and his comments. Usually his comments have been compelling. I can regret only that I am completely unqualified to reciprocate.

The departmentalism of American universities has doubtless much to recommend it. It indicates that exuberance is not a sufficient sub­ stitute for scholarship, that, for better or for worse, every scholar today must be something of a specialist. But when any great writer and great thinker reaches out and grasps the whole of human life, the study of his work transcends specialization. And while exuberance may not replace scholarship, it may accompany it. Most of my work has been done in the history of political philosophy. I have dared to overstep departmental boundaries, because I believe that Shakespeare has something to say to political philosophy. I am not the first to express this view. Whether I express it well or badly, I shall not be the last. I want to thank Leo Strauss, my teacher. He has read the manus­ cript and given me the benefit of his insight and judgment. I want to thank Richard Kennington, who has taken so much time from his own work to comment meticulously and constructively on this work as on other things I have written. His help has been generous, and my appreciation is deep. I must, in particular, thank my colleague, Adolph Lowe. He has perused this study, much of it in several versions. Through long walks in Manchester, Vermont, we have discussed my work and his comments. Usually his comments have been compelling. I can regret only that I am completely unqualified to reciprocate.

It was probably Rousseau who first thought of dreams as ennobling experiences. Anyone who has ever read Reveries du Promeneur Solitaire must be struck by the dreamlike quality of Rousseau's meditations. This dreamlike quality is still with us, and those who experience it find themselves ennobled by it. Witness Martin Luther King's famous "1 have a dream. " Dreaming and inspiration raise the artist to the top rung in the ladder ofhuman relations. That is probably the prevailing view among educated people of our time. Rousseau made that view respectable and predominant. Yet in another sense, the problem is much older. It is the problem of political philosophy and poetry, the problem of Socrates and Aristophanes, of Plato and Homer. Yet, while antiquity usually gives the crown to philosophy, since Rous­ seau, the alternative view tends to prevail. The distinction is not, however, a formal one. Sir Philip Sidney enlisted Plato on the side of poetry. The true distinction is between imagination and reason. If reason is to rule, as Aristotle points out,l the most architectonic of the sciences, that is political science, should rule. It is political philosophy which must determine the nature of the arts which will help or which will hinder the good of the city or the polity. That does not mean that a mere professor should stand in judgment of Shake­ speare, Bacon, and Rembrandt. It means that ifhe studies these three great artists, he is not over-stepping disciplinary limits.

It was probably Rousseau who first thought of dreams as ennobling experiences. Anyone who has ever read Reveries du Promeneur Solitaire must be struck by the dreamlike quality of Rousseau''s meditations. This dreamlike quality is still with us, and those who experience it find themselves ennobled by it. Witness Martin Luther King''s famous "1 have a dream. " Dreaming and inspiration raise the artist to the top rung in the ladder ofhuman relations. That is probably the prevailing view among educated people of our time. Rousseau made that view respectable and predominant. Yet in another sense, the problem is much older. It is the problem of political philosophy and poetry, the problem of Socrates and Aristophanes, of Plato and Homer. Yet, while antiquity usually gives the crown to philosophy, since Rous­ seau, the alternative view tends to prevail. The distinction is not, however, a formal one. Sir Philip Sidney enlisted Plato on the side of poetry. The true distinction is between imagination and reason. If reason is to rule, as Aristotle points out,l the most architectonic of the sciences, that is political science, should rule. It is political philosophy which must determine the nature of the arts which will help or which will hinder the good of the city or the polity. That does not mean that a mere professor should stand in judgment of Shake­ speare, Bacon, and Rembrandt. It means that ifhe studies these three great artists, he is not over-stepping disciplinary limits.

It was probably Rousseau who first thought of dreams as ennobling experiences. Anyone who has ever read Reveries du Promeneur Solitaire must be struck by the dreamlike quality of Rousseau's meditations. This dreamlike quality is still with us, and those who experience it find themselves ennobled by it. Witness Martin Luther King's famous "1 have a dream. " Dreaming and inspiration raise the artist to the top rung in the ladder ofhuman relations. That is probably the prevailing view among educated people of our time. Rousseau made that view respectable and predominant. Yet in another sense, the problem is much older. It is the problem of political philosophy and poetry, the problem of Socrates and Aristophanes, of Plato and Homer. Yet, while antiquity usually gives the crown to philosophy, since Rous­ seau, the alternative view tends to prevail. The distinction is not, however, a formal one. Sir Philip Sidney enlisted Plato on the side of poetry. The true distinction is between imagination and reason. If reason is to rule, as Aristotle points out,l the most architectonic of the sciences, that is political science, should rule. It is political philosophy which must determine the nature of the arts which will help or which will hinder the good of the city or the polity. That does not mean that a mere professor should stand in judgment of Shake­ speare, Bacon, and Rembrandt. It means that ifhe studies these three great artists, he is not over-stepping disciplinary limits.

The departmentalism of American universities has doubtless much to recommend it. It indicates that exuberance is not a sufficient sub­ stitute for scholarship, that, for better or for worse, every scholar today must be something of a specialist. But when any great writer and great thinker reaches out and grasps the whole of human life, the study of his work transcends specialization. And while exuberance may not replace scholarship, it may accompany it. Most of my work has been done in the history of political philosophy. I have dared to overstep departmental boundaries, because I believe that Shakespeare has something to say to political philosophy. I am not the first to express this view. Whether I express it well or badly, I shall not be the last. I want to thank Leo Strauss, my teacher. He has read the manus­ cript and given me the benefit of his insight and judgment. I want to thank Richard Kennington, who has taken so much time from his own work to comment meticulously and constructively on this work as on other things I have written. His help has been generous, and my appreciation is deep. I must, in particular, thank my colleague, Adolph Lowe. He has perused this study, much of it in several versions. Through long walks in Manchester, Vermont, we have discussed my work and his comments. Usually his comments have been compelling. I can regret only that I am completely unqualified to reciprocate.

The departmentalism of American universities has doubtless much to recommend it. It indicates that exuberance is not a sufficient sub­ stitute for scholarship, that, for better or for worse, every scholar today must be something of a specialist. But when any great writer and great thinker reaches out and grasps the whole of human life, the study of his work transcends specialization. And while exuberance may not replace scholarship, it may accompany it. Most of my work has been done in the history of political philosophy. I have dared to overstep departmental boundaries, because I believe that Shakespeare has something to say to political philosophy. I am not the first to express this view. Whether I express it well or badly, I shall not be the last. I want to thank Leo Strauss, my teacher. He has read the manus­ cript and given me the benefit of his insight and judgment. I want to thank Richard Kennington, who has taken so much time from his own work to comment meticulously and constructively on this work as on other things I have written. His help has been generous, and my appreciation is deep. I must, in particular, thank my colleague, Adolph Lowe. He has perused this study, much of it in several versions. Through long walks in Manchester, Vermont, we have discussed my work and his comments. Usually his comments have been compelling. I can regret only that I am completely unqualified to reciprocate.