Accession : Defender of The Faith

(Divok is pouring something on the fire as Worf meditates) 

WORF: 

Torva luk do shel. Torva luk 

(a figure appears) 

WORF: 

I see Kahless. 

(Divok runs out. The figure walks forward and holds out his arms. Worf touches his hands.) 

WORF: You are real. 

(the other Klingons enter) 

KAHLESS: 

I am Kahless, and I have returned.

[Temple]

(Kahless and the group march in, and Kahless picks up the bat'leth from the throne) 

KOROTH: 

What are you doing? Who are you? 

DIVOK: 

It is Kahless. 

KAHLESS: 

I have returned. You doubt me. Who here knows the story of how this sword was forged? 

TORIN:

 No one knows. It is not written in the sacred texts. 

KAHLESS: 

I went into the mountains, all the way to the volcano at Kri'stak. There I cut off a lock of my hair and thrust it into the river of molten rock which poured from the summit. The hair began to burn. Then I plunged it into the lake of Lusor and twisted it into this sword. And after I used it to kill the tyrant Molor I gave it a name. Bat'leth. The sword of honour. 

KOROTH: 

You know. The story of the sword is known only to the High Clerics. 

It was never written down, so that if he returned, we could be sure it was Kahless. 

KAHLESS: 

I have returned because there is a great need in my people. They fight among themselves in petty wars and corrupt the glory of the Klingon spirit. They have lost their way. But it is not too late. I have returned and I will lead my people again. 

(Koroth kneels) 

KOROTH: 

Vorcha doh baghk, Kahless! 

ALL: (kneeling) 

Vorcha doh baghk, Kahless! Vorcha doh baghk, Kahless! 

(all, that is, except for Worf)

[Worf's chambers]

KAHLESS: What is it you are doing? 

WORF: I was getting my tricorder. 

KAHLESS: Tricorder? Is it a weapon? 

WORF: No, no. It is a tool. I intended to use it to see 

KAHLESS: To see if I was real. Proceed. Use your tricorder. Well? 

WORF: You are Klingon. 

KAHLESS: What else could I be? 

WORF: There are many possibilities. A shape shifter, a holographic projection. 

KAHLESS: So, you are a sceptic, Worf. I like that. 

WORF: How do you know my name? 

KAHLESS: We have met before. I appeared to you in a vision in the caves of No'Mat. You were just a child then. I told you that you would do something that no Klingon had ever done before. You still do not believe it is me, do you Worf? 

WORF: I want to believe. 

KAHLESS: That is a beginning.

[Temple]

(a dining table is set up in the aisle, as Kahless sits on his throne and is briefed by a priest) 

TORIN: Gowron is the Leader of the Council. He commands the entire Defence Force. If he chooses to oppose you 

KAHLESS: Do not worry. We are on the threshold of a new era for our people. Klingons from all over the Empire will flock to my banner. Yet something still weighs heavy on the brow of the son of Mogh. Are you contemplating yet another question for me? After three days, I am beginning to wonder if you know how to do anything else. 

WORF: Questions are the beginning of wisdom, the mark of a true warrior. 

KAHLESS: Do not forget that a leader need not answer questions of those he leads. It is enough that he says to do a thing and they will do it. If he says to run, they run. If he says to fight, they fight. If he says to die, they die. 

WORF: If the commander is worthy of their trust. 

KAHLESS: NuQ cha'tak. NuQ! 

(Torin hands Kahless his bat'leth. Worf is given another. They fight, and Worf gets some good blows in, knocking Kahless down) 

KAHLESS: (laughs) What is wrong? Is there only anger and bloodlust in your souls? Is that all that is left in the Klingon heart? We do not fight merely to spill blood, but to enrich the spirit. Look at us. Two warriors locked in battle, fighting for honour. How can you not sing for all to hear? We are Klingons! Yes! Let it out! Let the joy in your heart be heard. We are Klingons! 

KLINGON: We are Klingons. 

KAHLESS: We are Klingons. 

ALL: We are Klingons. We are Klingons. We are Klingons. We are Klingons. We are Klingons. We are Klingons.

WORF: 

The man who appeared to me on Boreth is not Kahless. He is a clone. 

GOWRON: 

A clone! 

WORF: 

Yes. 

GOWRON: 

Did you really think you would get away with this kind of fraud, Koroth? I will have you and this abomination put to death. 

WORF: 

It does not matter, Gowron. You will still not be able to stand against him. 

GOWRON:

 What? He's not real. You just said so. 

WORF: 

I said he was not the Kahless, but in the minds of our people he can be just as powerful as Kahless. Even now, two members of your own crew are sitting on our Holodeck waiting for him to return. 

GOWRON:

 I do not care what they think. 

WORF: 

But hey are not alone. Like many of our people, they need something to believe in, just like I did. Something larger than themselves, something that will give their lives meaning. They need Kahless. 

GOWRON: 

But when they find out the truth? 

WORF: 

It will not matter, Gowron. Despite the facts, they will still believe. They will make a leap of faith and there will be others just like them. Not everyone, but enough to plunge the Empire into civil war if you oppose them. 

GOWRON: 

What are you saying? That I should just hand over the Empire? 

WORF: 

No, that would be unwise as well.

 

KOROTH: 

Then what are you proposing, Worf? 

WORF: 

You were right about one thing, Koroth. Our people are becoming decadent and corrupt. They need moral leadership. Kahless can be that leader, as Emperor. 

GOWRON: There hasn't been an Emperor in three centuries! 

WORF: 

The political power will remain with the High Council. Kahless would be a figurehead, but he will have the ability to rally the people, to lead by example, to guide them in spiritual matters. 

KOROTH: 

The title is meaningless without the power to back it up. 

WORF: 

Real power comes from within the heart. You would have the power to mold the Klingon heart. You could return them to honourable ways according to the original teachings of Kahless which are within you. It would be a great challenge, if you have the courage to accept it. 

GOWRON: 

And what will we tell the people about their new Emperor? That he appeared in a cave or a laboratory? 

WORF: 

We will tell them the truth. All of the truth. But we will tell them that even if he is not the real Kahless, he is the rightful heir to Kahless. 

GOWRON: And if I refuse to go along with this? 

WORF: 

Then my brother and those who support him on the Council will fight you, and I will fight you. And the Empire will fall back into civil war. 

GOWRON: 

What do you say about this, Koroth? 

KOROTH: 

What I say is unimportant. 

KAHLESS: 

It is acceptable. 

(Koroth kneels before his Emperor. Worf does the same) 

KAHLESS: Join with me, Gowron. Let us usher in this new era together. 

GOWRON: Vorcha doh bagh (kneels) Kahless.

Your Father is a Part of You, Always.

[Ten Forward]

(Data is about to speak, then changes his mind) 

WORF: 

Wait. What is it, Commander? 

DATA: 

I am sorry to bother you, but I have a question of a personal nature. 

Do you have a moment? 

WORF: 

A moment. 

DATA: 

I have heard you mention that you once experienced a vision. 

WORF: 

Yes. When I was young my adoptive parents arranged for me to partake in the Rite of MajQa. 

DATA: 

I understand it involves deep meditation in the lava caves of No'Mat. 

That prolonged exposure to the heat induces a hallucinatory effect. 

WORF: 

Why are you asking me about this? 

DATA: 

I have recently had an unusual experience, which might be described as a vision. 

WORF: 

What happened? 

DATA: 

An accident in Engineering shut down my cognitive functions for a short period of time, yet I seemed to remain conscious. I saw my father. 

WORF: 

You are very fortunate. 

That is a powerful vision. 

DATA: 

If it was a vision, I do not know how to proceed. 

WORF: 

You must find its meaning. 

If it has anything to do with your father, you must learn all you can about it. 

In the Klingon MajQa ritual, there is nothing more important than receiving a revelation about your father. 

Your father is part of you, always. 

Learning about him teaches you about yourself. 

That is why no matter where he is or what he has done, you must find him. 

DATA: 

But I am not looking for my father. 

WORF: 

Yes, of course. 

Do not stop until you have the answer. 

DATA: 

Thank you, Worf.

Be Not Proud

"The summer of 1964 had been very difficult for my husband, Martin Luther King, Jr. The calls upon him were staggering and his life was filled with almost incredible pressures. He was away from our home in Atlanta much of the time, involved in the struggle for voter registration, in the movement to integrate public facilities, in a trip to Germany, in the presidential campaign, and in many other difficult and strenuous tasks. 

Because I was concerned about him, in October, soon after he returned from Germany, I encouraged my husband to go to St. Joseph's Hospital in Atlanta for a checkup, hoping that he would in that way be able to get a few days' rest. At about nine o'clock on the morning after Martin went to the hospital, the telephone rang; it rang most of the time in our house. Many of the calls were from people with whom Martin worked or who wanted to give support to the Movement or who wanted help from him. But many times the tele- phone brought threats, abuse, and a stream of obscenity. This time when I answered, the voice on the line said, "This is the Associated Press. I would like to speak to Dr. Martin Luther King." 

I explained that Dr. King was not at home, and the reporter said, "Is this Mrs. King?" When I replied that it was, he said, "We have just received word from Norway that your husband has been given the Nobel Peace Prize for 1964." 

It was too much to fully comprehend, but I tried to act calmly. He asked me whether he could get in touch with Dr. King for a statement, and I told him I'd contact my husband and have him call back. When the reporter asked for my reactions, I explained that it was hard for me to tell yet what I really felt. 

Of course, I had read in newspaper stories that Martin was being considered for the prize. After that we heard that he was high on the list of possible winners; but Martin and I both thought these reports were merely rumors, for we thought that the prize was given only to those occupied exclusively in international peace activities. Though Martin had often written and spoken of nonviolence as the salvation of a world in peril, we did not feel others saw the broad implications of his philosophy. 

"This year the prize is worth fifty-four thousand dollars," the reporter said. "What do you suppose Dr. King will do with all that money?" 

"Knowing him," I answered, "I'm sure he will give it all to the Freedom Movement." 

"How do you feel about that?" 

"I think that is where the money should go. I believe in it whole-heartedly." 

As soon as the reporter hung up, I called Martin at the hospital. When he answered in a sleepy voice, I said gaily, "How is the Nobel Peace Prize winner for 1964 feeling this morning?" 

"What's that?" Martin asked. 

"Martin, the Associated Press just called to tell us that the .m nouncement has been made, and you are the winner." After a long silence Martin said, "I'd better check to see if this is true." 

Martin told me later that he had fallen asleep after his early-morning breakfast at the hospital. When I called him with the news, he was stunned. He thought he was still dreaming. 

It took me quite a while to analyze my own reactions. Of course, the phone kept ringing, and my first thought was that Martin had checked into the hospital only the day before, and this meant that he would get absolutely no rest, because there would be all kinds of people trying to get to him. It seemed as if every time he got to the point where he wanted to get away from things, something would happen. 

On the other hand, I realized that this was exactly the sort of lift Martin desperately needed, and in that moment I was filled with joy. I sat quietly by the telephone and I prayed, "Thank you, Our Father. Thank you for what this means to Martin and to the children and to me. Thank you and help us to be worthy of this blessing." 



News of the announcement of the prize spread rapidly. Martin was visited by Archbishop Hallinan of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Atlanta. Bishop Hallinan offered his congratulations and then said to Martin, "May I give you my blessing?" Martin said, "Of course," and the Archbishop recited a traditional blessing and made a sign of the cross. Martin responded, then to his surprise, the Archbishop sank to his knees beside the bed and quietly said, "May I receive your blessing?" Later Martin told me how humbled he felt and how beautiful it was that a Roman Catholic Archbishop would receive the blessing of a Baptist preacher named Martin Luther. 

A little later I had a call from the staff at the Southern Christian Leadership Conference office to tell me that Martin had set up a press conference for eleven o'clock at the hospital and had asked that I come over and join him. 

Of course, I went immediately. At the hospital I found all the reporters and photographers, with flashbulbs winking, crowded into the hospital chapel. Martin had written out a statement, and he answered their questions easily and calmly, as he always did. He told them that he would give all the money he was awarded to The Cause, as I had known he would. The prize money was later divided among Southern Christian Leadership Conference, Congress of Racial Equality, Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, National Council of Negro Women, and American Foundation on Nonviolence, set up to further education in nonviolence. 

Finallv the reporters went away, and Martin and I went up to our room where we were left alone to sort out our thoughts and our emotions. 

Of course, I was pleased, but at the same time I was pondering. Why? Why was Martin's contribution considered of international importance? What was the deeper meaning of all this— some meaning that we were not yet able to understand? For this was not just a prize for civil rights, but for contributing to world peace. Though we were very happy, both Martin and I realized the tremendous responsibility that this placed on him. This was, of course, the greatest recognition that had come to him, but we both knew that to accomplish what the prize really implied, we still had a long way to go. It was a great tribute, but an even more awesome burden. I felt pride and joy, and pain too, when I thought of the added responsibilities my husband must bear; and it was my burden too. I think he put it best for both of us when he later said, in his acceptance speech, "I feel as though this prize has been given to me for something that really has not yet been achieved. It is a commission to go out and work even harder for the things in which we believe." 

Our solemn thoughts did not mean we were not joyful. Getting ready for our trip to Norway was great fun. The first question was whom we could take with us. We wanted as many as possible to go, because Martin felt that the prize was not for him alone but also for those who had worked at his side during our long and dangerous struggle. But he said, "I will not use one penny of this money for anything but The Cause. It will not be used for transportation or anything else." 

Some of Martin's minister friends generously contributed funds through their churches so that his mother, Alberta Williams King, and his father, the Reverend Martin Luther King, Sr., could go on the trip. Martin's father had, by that time, been pastor of Ebenezer Baptist Church on Auburn Avenue in Atlanta for thirty-three years. He is a big man. physically and spirtually. He stands strong and broad in his pulpit, afraid of no man, white or black, telling it like it is, preaching The Word to his congregation and giving them his overflowing love. 

At that time, Martin was his co-pastor at Ebenezer, and the two of them were very close. Daddy King, as we all called him, was immensely proud of his son's winning the Nobel Peace Prize. At the same time, he was genuinely humble, for he too was awed by the new responsibilities that had fallen on Martin's shoulders. 

Next on our list were the Reverend Ralph D. Abernathy and his wife, Juanita. Ralph, who was pastor of the West Hunter Street Baptist Church in Atlanta, had been my husband's closest friend and strong supporter from the first days of the battle of the buses in Montgomery, Alabama, back in 1955. Martin's brother, A. D. (Alfred Daniel) King, came, as did Martin's sister, Christine Farris, and Mrs. Nina Miller, a close friend of the King family. Many others of our friends and associates also made the trip: Andrew Young, Wyatt Tee Walker, Bernard Lee, Dorothy Cotton, Lillie Hunter, Septima Clark, Harry and Lucy Wachtel, Bayard Rustin, Dora McDonald, who was Martin's secretary, and ten or so more. Most of them paid their own way. 

I wanted to take my two oldest children; Yolanda, whom we call Yoki, was almost 9, and Martin Luther King, III, Marty, was 7. They both had been through a lot with us— threats and attempted bombings and knowing that their father was in danger. And when their daddy had been in jail, or when he was called a liar, or a Communist, or an Uncle Tom, they had learned to hold their heads high and believe in him. I thought it would be good for them to see their father receive the world's highest humanitarian award, but the Nobel Committee advised us against bringing children younger than twelve years old. The children were very disappointed when I told them they could not go though they understood the reasons. 

Early in December our party of about thirty people left Atlanta for New York on two separate flights— for the protection of the children, except in unusual circumstances, Martin and I never flew together. In New York several special activities had been planned for us by Ralph Bunch and the President of the U.N. General Assembly. We met representatives from Norway and Sweden, from England, and from some of the African countries. We began to feel that our trip abroad had already started. 

My husband took off for London first, most of the men traveling with him. The women followed the next day, and how pleased we were to have Daddy King flying with us. We were all together again in London, where Martin had several speaking engagements. 

On Sunday he preached a sermon in St. Paul's Cathedral. Except for the Nobel ceremony itself, this was the high moment of the trip. The great seventeenth-century Anglican church was filled with people who had come to hear Martin. 

We were tremendously moved, not only by Martin's sermon but also by the Anglican ritual, which we had never seen— the priests in their vestments, the stately ceremony of the service, and the beautiful singing by the choir of men and bovs whose clear soprano voices were so pure. Martin found it a beautiful and inspiring experience. 

After Martin had ascended to the pulpit, he began to preach, his clear, rich voice filling the cathedral. His style of preaching grew out of the tradition of the southern Baptist ministers, with cadences and timing which he had heard from his father and other ministers as long as he could remember. But anyone who has ever heard him knows that what made Martin's sermons memorable was not the oratorical skill with which lie was so abundantly blessed, but the message which he brought and which came from his heart, straight to the heart of the listener. 

He preached one of his favorite sermons that day— "Three Dimensions of a Complete Life." It had a special meaning for me, because it was the theme of the first sermon I had ever heard him preach on a Sunday long ago in a little church at Roxbury, Massachusetts. And it was also the initial sermon he preached in the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama, wliere he began his pastorate. 

But the sermon at St. Paul's Cathedral was not simply a repetition. As always, Martin took the theme and adapted it to his audience, adding new insights, changing it in accordance with the times and elaborating upon it extemporaneously. The text was From Revelation 21:16, "The length and the breadth and the height of it are equal." Martin described St. John's vision of "a new and holy Jerusalem descending out of heaven from God." This new heavenly city would not be an unbalanced entity with towering virtues on one side of it and degrading vices on the other. The most noble thing about the new city would be its completeness in all three of its dimensions, in its length and its breadth and its height. 

The troubles of the world, my husband said, were due to incompleteness. Greece gave us noble philosophy and poetic insights, but her glorious cities were built on a foundation of slavery. Western civilization was also great, bequeathing to us glories of art and culture as well as the Industrial Revolution that was the beginning of material abundance for man. But it was based on injustice and colonialism and allowed its material means to outdistance spiritual ends. 

America, he said, is a great nation, offering the world the Declaration of Independence and enormous technological advances, but it too is incomplete because of its materialism and because it has deprived twenty-two million Negro men and women of Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. 

Just as the great cities, nations, and civilizations are incomplete, so have been many of our great leaders. The individual, Martin said, should strive for completeness within himself. The first dimension of a complete life is the development of a person's inner powers. He must work tirelessly to achieve excellence in his field of endeavor, no matter how humble. "Set yourself earnestly to discover what you are made to do and then give yourself passionately to the doing of it. This clear onward drive toward self-fulfillment is the length of a man's life." 

The second dimension of a complete life is concern for and identification with one's fellow man. "The recognition of the oneness of humanity and the need of active brotherly concern for the welfare of others is the breadth of man's life." 

There remained the third dimension, the height, man's upward reach. Some of us are out-and-out atheists, some are atheists in practice while giving lip service to God. Martin believed that a man must actively seek God. "Where will you find Him? In a test tube? No! 

Where else except in Jesus Christ, the Lord of our lives? . . . Christ is the Word made flesh. He is the language of eternity translated in the words of time. ... By committing ourselves absolutely to Christ and His way, we will participate in that marvelous act of faith that will bring us to the true knowledge of God." 

Summing up, Martin said, "Love yourself, if that means healthy self-interest. . . . That is the length of life. Love your neighbor as yourself; you are commanded to do that. That is the breadth of life. But never forget that there is an even greater commandment, 'Love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the height of life. . . . 

". . . God grant that we will catch [John's] vision and move with unrelenting passion toward that city of complete life in which the length and the breadth and the height are equal. Only by reaching this city can we achieve our true essence. Only by attaining this completeness can we be true sons of God." 

As Martin was speaking, that great, sophisticated congregation sat silent and intent upon his words.

He said later that he could feel the current of their overwhelming response flowing toward him, and his own emotion rose with theirs. His father sat among them, completely carried away. Members of our party teased Daddy King afterward, saying that he was muttering under his breath a favorite phrase which he would have shouted out in our own Baptist church. He was saying, "Make it plain, son, make it plain." 

After the service Canon Collins of St. Paul's took us to his home for a brief reception. Then we had time to do a little sightseeing in London —the usual things: Westminster Abbey, the Tower of London. We drove down Whitehall, with its great government buildings— the Admiralty and the Foreign Office— which stood like monuments to the great empire that had been and was no longer; past the Houses of Parliament, with their long, splendid Gothic facade and Big Ben in its tower sounding the quarter-hours with the Westminster chimes. 

But the beauty and nobility of London were clouded for Martin by the thought, as he said, "that it was built by exploitation of Africans and Indians and other oppressed peoples." 


On December 8, we took off for Oslo. Because it was a short flight and we were supposed to be greeted officially this time, we all flew together in one plane.
So, for once, I had the pleasure of flying with my husband, sharing our high anticipation of all that awaited us in Oslo. Yet, as we flew north over the gray, stormy sea, f had a feeling of moving far away from the center of things toward an area of the earth remote to all of us. 

Though we landed fairly early in the afternoon, the sun was setting. In that month of the shortest days, there were only about four or five hours of sunlight in Oslo. This we had to get used to, and also to the intense crisp cold we felt as we stepped from the plane. 

But if the air was chilly, our greeting was warm. Of course, officials of the Nobel Committee were there, headed by Dr. Gunnar Jahn. We expected them, but not the crowds of people who came to welcome us, and especially the hundreds of young people. Martin made a brief statement to the press expressing his thanks to the Nobel Committee and to the assembled people for the warm welcome we received. Children presented us with bouquets of flowers. Then we walked slowly along a path cleared for us through the crowd. People were smiling and waving at us. We were able to shake hands with a few of them and waved back at the rest. What impressed both Martin and me was the genuine warmth of the people. It made us feel very much at home, and we felt a release, seldom known to us, from tension. 

The first evening we had no engagements. It was the birthday of Marian Logan, one of the members of our group, and we gave a surprise party for her at the hotel. It turned into a celebration of our trip, and of our hopes and expectations. Never before had so many of us been gathered together in a simple fellowship. Always there were meetings, decisions, emergencies, crises, pressures of various kinds. Martin and several of the others had been to jail many times. Some had been severely beaten. Churches and homes had been bombed. Now we were released from solemnity into joy and gaiety.
 After dinner, Martin, Andy Young, Ralph Abernathy, Wyatt Walker, and Bernard Lee formed a quintet and sang freedom songs in bcauti lul harmony. This was something they often did to break up the seriousness of staff conferences and retreats. Then we all sang freedom songs and hvmns together, and that night their words rang louder than ever before. We sang "Oh Freedom," "Ain't Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around," "Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?" and "Balm in Gilead," which my husband often quoted when he needed a lift: 

"Sometimes I feel discouraged And think my work's in vain But then the Holy Spirit Revives my soul again. 

There is a Balm in Gilead To make the wounded whole, There is a Balm in Gilead To heal the sinsick soul." 

This went on into the night. Other people staying at the hotel gathered around to watch and listen. I suppose they had never heard anything quite like it before. They were very warm and friendly, and again we felt the happiness of fellowship and the warmth of oneness. 

Later still, we moved out of the dining room into the lounge, and Daddy King began to talk about his emotions. "I want to say something to all of you now," he began, "and I want you to listen." He raised his finger to focus our attention in the way he does when he speaks From the pulpit in Ebenezer Church. "I want to try to tell you how I feel. I guess most of you know this, but I just have to say it now anyway." He stopped to draw a deep breath and let it out slowly as he does when he is gathering his thoughts. "I came from nowhere. My father was a sharecropper, and I didn't have the opportunity to get much formal training when I was growing up. It wasn't until I left the farm and went to Atlanta that I was able to get any real education. I was a man when I finished college, a grown man with my wife and three children. 

"I wanted my children to have all the things I had not had. I prayed For the Lord to let them do the things I could not do. This young man here became a minister, and I wanted him to have the best training available, so he was able to get his Ph.D." 

Then Daddy King talked about The Struggle over the years and how difficult it had been for him and Mamma King to live with the knowledge that what Martin was doing was so dangerous. He talked of the threats they had been subjected to, the two of them. He said, "You don't know how it feels when some stranger calls you on the phone and tells you that he wants to kill you, or kill your son." 

By now we were all crying, and Daddy King, standing there so big and kind, not bitter at all, said, 

"I have to talk about this, because even though I feel so proud tonight about what is happening here in Oslo, I also must be humble. 

I don't want to get puffed up with pride; I am not that kind of person. 

So I have to continue to pray so that the Lord will keep me humble. 

The Devil is busy out there, and we have to pray that God will keep my son safe." 

We were crying because we had all come such a long way and because Martin was at last receiving the recognition which he had been denied. 

The next afternoon Martin and I were to be received by King Olav V of Norway. We found him to be informal and cordial. He had studied in America and seemed quite eager to talk with Martin. He discussed the race situation in general terms and showed, by his comments and questions, that he was very well informed about conditions in the United States and had warm sympathy for American Negroes. He was a man of goodwill. 

The next day, December 10, 1964, Martin received the Nobel Prize. We had quite a time getting him ready. He had to wear formal dress, striped trousers and a gray tailcoat. While several of us were working on the ascot, Martin kept fussing and making funny comments about having to wear such a ridiculous thing. Finally he said, "I vow never to wear one of these things again." 

He never did. 

But I must confess that when he was finally dressed, he looked very handsome— so young and eager and excited, almost like a boy going to his first dress-up party. 

The ceremony was held in Aula Hall of Oslo University, a long and narrow auditorium, decorated with hundreds and hundreds of small white flowers. The stage was low and very deep, with an orches- tra filling the back of it and the rostrum in front. The hall held about 700 people, and it was crowded to capacity. We sat in the front row with the Nobel Committee. I kept thinking of the several thousand people gathered outside who, because Martin had been escorted through a back entrance, did not even catch a glimpse of him. 

Then King Olav came in, with Crown Prince Harald and an aide. Everyone stood up, and the orchestra played the Norwegian national anthem. The King's party sat in special chairs close behind us, and the ceremony began. 

First the orchestra played a selection. Then Dr. Jahn read the beautiful citation, which said in part: "Dr. King has succeeded in keeping his followers to the principle of nonviolence . . . without Dr. King's confirmed effectiveness of this principle, demonstrations and marches could easily have been violent and ended with the spilling of blood." 

When the speech was over, Dr. Jahn presented Martin with the prize, a gold medal, and the scroll. Then Martin stepped up to the rostrum to make his acceptance speech. After paying the preliminary courtesies, Martin said: 

"I am mindful that only yesterday in Birmingham, Alabama, our children, crying out for brotherhood, were answered with fire hoses, snarling dogs, and even death. I am mindful that only yesterday in Philadelphia, Mississippi, young people seeking to secure the right to vote were brutalized and murdered. 

"Therefore I must ask why this prize is awarded to a Movement which is beleaguered and committed to unrelenting struggle; to a Movement which has not won the very peace and brotherhood which is the essence of the Nobel Prize. After contemplation I conclude that this award, which I receive on behalf of the Movement, is a profound recognition th.it nonviolence is the answer to the crucial political and racial questions of our time— the need for man to overcome oppression without resorting to violence. 

"I accept this award today with an abiding faith in America and an audacious faith in mankind. I refuse to accept the idea that man is mere flotsam and jetsam in the river of life which surrounds him. I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daylight of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality." 

As I sat listening to Martin, I tried to remind myself of Daddy King's words about humility. Yet I could not help myself. I was proud of Martin and of what he stood for. I was proud that his work, and that of his associates, had made better the lives of so many of our countrymen. I was proud that black people all over the world had felt renewed courage and hope because of this man, my husband. 

"Forgive me, Lord," I prayed silently. "Forgive me if I am filled with pride. But that's how I feel. I am so proud of Martin and what he has tried to do that I am worse than puffed up. I feel as if I might burst. Lord have mercy." 

The thunder of applause as Martin finished startled me from a reverie. 

The Trickster

The Chorister : 

Yes, we take the point - don't we. 

TODD : 

Yes, the clown stroke jester's a familiar figure, anthropologically speaking. 

He diffuses a potential source of conflict through mockery and ridicule, don't you?

TODD :

Your Turn...

Accession : The Kings of Rome

The Roman Republic, although the accounts of this era are semi-legendary at best, was supposed to have been founded after Tarquinius Superbus was ejected from Rome. His reign was productive in some aspects but was nonetheless filled with abuses, particularly against the senators: he marginalized them by refusing to consult them, and tried to reduce their numbers as best he could. He also became tyrannical in his administration of justice, trying capital cases by himself, without counselors, and using this as a way of stamping out opposition. This was capped off by his son's rape of a virtuous noblewoman named Lucretia, which caused Lucius Junius Brutus (the king's nephew, who had survived in Tarquin's regime by pretending to be slow-witted and thus non-threatening) to vow revenge. He summoned the people and inflamed them against Tarquinius, causing the assembly to strip the king of his imperium, the power of command and punishment that kings enjoyed. After Tarquinius was exiled, the Romans used existing voting procedures to select two magistrates (called praetors at the time, but they'd later be termed consuls, and this is how we know them today) and divided the power of imperium between them, so that no man would concentrate enough power in his own hands to tyrannize the Romans again.

Long story short, Tarquinius and his son were so outrageously oppressive (although reading between the lines, it's hard not to conclude that he pissed off the Senate more than the people generally, and that the revolution was motivated primarily by the aristocrats seeking to restore their position) that they completely soiled the concept of kingship for Romans, and the "Romans are free men, we don't need or want a king, kings are tyrants," message was passed down for centuries, with the result that Romans would be perpetually suspicious of people who accumulated too much power.



CASCA
You pull'd me by the cloak; would you speak with me?

BRUTUS
Ay, Casca; tell us what hath chanced to-day,
That Caesar looks so sad.

CASCA
Why, you were with him, were you not?

BRUTUS
I should not then ask Casca what had chanced.

CASCA
Why, there was a crown offered him: and being
offered him, he put it by with the back of his hand,
thus; and then the people fell a-shouting.

BRUTUS
What was the second noise for?

CASCA
Why, for that too.

CASSIUS
They shouted thrice: what was the last cry for?

CASCA
Why, for that too.

BRUTUS
Was the crown offered him thrice?

CASCA
Ay, marry, was't, and he put it by thrice, every
time gentler than other, and at every putting-by
mine honest neighbours shouted.

CASSIUS
Who offered him the crown?

CASCA
Why, Antony.

BRUTUS
Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca.

CASCA
I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it:
it was mere foolery; I did not mark it. I saw Mark
Antony offer him a crown;--yet 'twas not a crown
neither, 'twas one of these coronets;--and, as I told
you, he put it by once: but, for all that, to my
thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he
offered it to him again; then he put it by again:
but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his
fingers off it. And then he offered it the third
time; he put it the third time by: and still as he
refused it, the rabblement hooted and clapped their
chapped hands and threw up their sweaty night-caps
and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because
Caesar refused the crown that it had almost choked
Caesar; for he swounded and fell down at it: and
for mine own part, I durst not laugh, for fear of
opening my lips and receiving the bad air.

CASSIUS
But, soft, I pray you: what, did Caesar swound?

CASCA
He fell down in the market-place, and foamed at
mouth, and was speechless.

BRUTUS
'Tis very like: he hath the failing sickness.

CASSIUS
No, Caesar hath it not; but you and I,
And honest Casca, we have the falling sickness.

CASCA
I know not what you mean by that; but, I am sure,
Caesar fell down. If the tag-rag people did not
clap him and hiss him, according as he pleased and
displeased them, as they use to do the players in
Theatre, I am no true man.

BRUTUS
What said he when he came unto himself?

CASCA
Marry, before he fell down, when he perceived the
common herd was glad he refused the crown, he
plucked me ope his doublet and offered them his
throat to cut. An I had been a man of any
occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word,
I would I might go to hell among the rogues. And so
he fell. When he came to himself again, he said,
If he had done or said any thing amiss, he desired
their worships to think it was his infirmity. Three
or four wenches, where I stood, cried 'Alas, good
soul!' and forgave him with all their hearts: but
there's no heed to be taken of them; if Caesar had
stabbed their mothers, they would have done no less.

BRUTUS
And after that, he came, thus sad, away?

CASCA
Ay.

CASSIUS
Did Cicero say any thing?

CASCA
Ay, he spoke Greek.

CASSIUS
To what effect?

CASCA
Nay, an I tell you that, Ill ne'er look you i' the
face again: but those that understood him smiled at
one another and shook their heads; but, for mine own
part, it was Greek to me. I could tell you more
news too: Marullus and Flavius, for pulling scarfs
off Caesar's images, are put to silence. Fare you
well. There was more foolery yet, if I could
remember it.

CASSIUS
Will you sup with me to-night, Casca?

CASCA
No, I am promised forth.

CASSIUS
Will you dine with me to-morrow?

CASCA
Ay, if I be alive and your mind hold and your dinner
worth the eating.

CASSIUS
Good: I will expect you.

CASCA
Do so. Farewell, both.

Exit

BRUTUS
What a blunt fellow is this grown to be!
He was quick mettle when he went to school.

CASSIUS
So is he now in execution
Of any bold or noble enterprise,
However he puts on this tardy form.
This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit,
Which gives men stomach to digest his words
With better appetite.

BRUTUS
And so it is. For this time I will leave you:
To-morrow, if you please to speak with me,
I will come home to you; or, if you will,
Come home to me, and I will wait for you.

CASSIUS
I will do so: till then, think of the world.

Exit BRUTUS

Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet, I see,
Thy honourable metal may be wrought
From that it is disposed: therefore it is meet
That noble minds keep ever with their likes;
For who so firm that cannot be seduced?
Caesar doth bear me hard; but he loves Brutus:
If I were Brutus now and he were Cassius,
He should not humour me. I will this night,
In several hands, in at his windows throw,
As if they came from several citizens,
Writings all tending to the great opinion
That Rome holds of his name; wherein obscurely
Caesar's ambition shall be glanced at:
And after this let Caesar seat him sure;
For we will shake him, or worse days endure.

Exit







Kings of Rome
For 150 years, a period of time that stretched across the
entire sixth century B . C ., the city of Rome was under
Etruscan control. The conquest of Alba Longa fifteen miles
southeast of Rome was believed to have occurred during
the time of the Etruscan kings.

There were 7 legendary rulers, or Kings, of Rome:

The first king, Romulus, instituted the Senate; the second king, Numa
Pompilius, established priesthoods; the third king, Tullus
Hostilius, expanded Rome’s influence and glory through
war; and the fourth king, Ancus Marcius, established
procedures for declaring war.

The remaining kings ncluded the fifth, Tarquinius Priscus; the sixth, Servius
Tullius; and the seventh, Tarquinius Superbus.

The first Etruscan king, Tarquinius Priscus, was of Greek descent, and he focused on reforming the army.

Priscus also built a temple on the Capitol to honor Jupiter,
Juno, and Minerva. These three deities, known as the
Capitoline Triad, held a supreme place in Roman religion.
Chapter 1 of this text elaborates on the Capitoline Triad
because these deities figure prominently in the historical
myths about the founding of Rome by Aeneas and
Romulus.

The sixth king, Servius Tullius (578–534 B . C .), organized
Roman society by rank and divided the population into
classes. Men who owned property had political power and
could join the military. He also established the earliest and
most important shrine of the Latin deity Diana on the
Aventine Hill. Diana was concerned with the affairs of
women and later became associated with the Greek
goddess Artemis, who was the goddess of the moon and
hunting.

The seventh and last king, Tarquinius Superbus, or
Tarquin the Proud, was not elected legally and was not
well liked because he made the Romans do manual labor
for public works. He was dethroned in 509 B . C . According
to legend, he tried to purchase from the Sibyl at Cumae the
Sibylline Books, a set of nine books that contained all of
19Roman Mythology
Apollo’s prophecies of the world. (A sibyl is a soothsayer or
someone who foretells future events by some sort of
supernatural means; Cumae is a port along the southern
coast of Italy.) Apollo had given the books to the Sibyl and
had offered to grant her anything she desired if she would
marry him. The Sibyl agreed on the one condition that he
grant her as many years of life as grains of sand she could
hold in one hand. After Apollo granted the Sibyl her wish,
she quickly reneged on her promise. Apollo then reminded
the Sibyl that because she had forgotten to ask to remain
ageless, he was going to withhold that gift. The Sibyl of
Cumae lived on as an old woman for more than seven
hundred years, until only her small, weak voice survived to
13
hand down Apollo’s world prophecies.
When Tarquin the Proud asked to purchase the books
from the Sibyl, she agreed to sell them to him—but he
refused to pay her price. So the Sibyl burned three of the
nine books. A year later, the Sibyl offered the king the
remaining six books at the same price. Still, he refused to
pay her price, so she burned three more of the books.
Exasperated, Tarquin the Proud finally agreed to pay the
original price for the remaining three books.
The early Romans did not adapt easily to existing
Etruscan religious practices. The Etruscans followed the
reading of omens by their priests. In these readings, the
priests, or augurs, interpreted for the people the meaning
of messages from the gods, believed to be hidden in the
flight patterns of birds or in the color and consistency of
14
animals’ entrails.
Over the centuries, many Greeks and Carthaginians
came to live in Etruria, and the Etruscans readily embraced
many aspects of their cultures. The Etruscans, in turn,
introduced a civilized and prosperous way of life to the
Romans. Many Greek gods and goddesses were absorbed
20Preface
into the growing body of Roman deities. Jupiter became
the Roman equivalent of Zeus, the Greek king of the gods
(Jupiter even adopted Zeus’ symbols of power—lightning
bolts and peals of thunder); Juno became the Roman
equivalent of Hera, Zeus’ wife; and Venus became the
Roman equivalent of Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of
beauty.

In the beginning, when Roman deities became
identified with Greek gods and goddesses, they did not
interact with humans in Roman myths because the
Romans were not comfortable with the Greek idea of
divine intervention in their stories. Eventually, however,
this attitude changed and humans and divinities began to
interact in Roman myths just as they did in Greek myths.
Mars, Venus, and Apollo are included in Chapter 2
because these deities also play an important part in the
myths about the founding of Rome.








Enter CASSIUS

CASSIUS
Who's there?

CASCA
A Roman.

CASSIUS
Casca, by your voice.

CASCA
Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is this!

CASSIUS
A very pleasing night to honest men.

CASCA
Who ever knew the heavens menace so?

CASSIUS
Those that have known the earth so full of faults.
For my part, I have walk'd about the streets,
Submitting me unto the perilous night,
And, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see,
Have bared my bosom to the thunder-stone;
And when the cross blue lightning seem'd to open
The breast of heaven, I did present myself
Even in the aim and very flash of it.

CASCA
But wherefore did you so much tempt the heavens?
It is the part of men to fear and tremble,
When the most mighty gods by tokens send
Such dreadful heralds to astonish us.

CASSIUS
You are dull, Casca, and those sparks of life
That should be in a Roman you do want,
Or else you use not. You look pale and gaze
And put on fear and cast yourself in wonder,
To see the strange impatience of the heavens:
But if you would consider the true cause
Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts,
Why birds and beasts from quality and kind,
Why old men fool and children calculate,
Why all these things change from their ordinance
Their natures and preformed faculties
To monstrous quality,--why, you shall find
That heaven hath infused them with these spirits,
To make them instruments of fear and warning
Unto some monstrous state.
Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man
Most like this dreadful night,
That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars
As doth the lion in the Capitol,
A man no mightier than thyself or me
In personal action, yet prodigious grown
And fearful, as these strange eruptions are.

CASCA
'Tis Caesar that you mean; is it not, Cassius?

CASSIUS
Let it be who it is: for Romans now
Have thews and limbs like to their ancestors;
But, woe the while! our fathers' minds are dead,
And we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits;
Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish.

CASCA
Indeed, they say the senators tomorrow
Mean to establish Caesar as a king;
And he shall wear his crown by sea and land,
In every place, save here in Italy.

CASSIUS
I know where I will wear this dagger then;
Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius:
Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong;
Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat:
Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass,
Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,
Can be retentive to the strength of spirit;
But life, being weary of these worldly bars,
Never lacks power to dismiss itself.
If I know this, know all the world besides,
That part of tyranny that I do bear
I can shake off at pleasure.

Thunder still

CASCA
So can I:
So every bondman in his own hand bears
The power to cancel his captivity.

CASSIUS
And why should Caesar be a tyrant then?
Poor man! I know he would not be a wolf,
But that he sees the Romans are but sheep:
He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.
Those that with haste will make a mighty fire
Begin it with weak straws: what trash is Rome,
What rubbish and what offal, when it serves
For the base matter to illuminate
So vile a thing as Caesar! But, O grief,
Where hast thou led me? I perhaps speak this
Before a willing bondman; then I know
My answer must be made. But I am arm'd,
And dangers are to me indifferent.

CASCA
You speak to Casca, and to such a man
That is no fleering tell-tale. Hold, my hand:
Be factious for redress of all these griefs,
And I will set this foot of mine as far
As who goes farthest.

CASSIUS
There's a bargain made.
Now know you, Casca, I have moved already
Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans
To undergo with me an enterprise
Of honourable-dangerous consequence;
And I do know, by this, they stay for me
In Pompey's porch: for now, this fearful night,
There is no stir or walking in the streets;
And the complexion of the element
In favour's like the work we have in hand,
Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible.

CASCA
Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste.

CASSIUS
'Tis Cinna; I do know him by his gait;
He is a friend.

Enter CINNA

Cinna, where haste you so?

CINNA
To find out you. Who's that? Metellus Cimber?

CASSIUS
No, it is Casca; one incorporate
To our attempts. Am I not stay'd for, Cinna?

CINNA
I am glad on 't. What a fearful night is this!
There's two or three of us have seen strange sights.

CASSIUS
Am I not stay'd for? tell me.

CINNA
Yes, you are.
O Cassius, if you could
But win the noble Brutus to our party--

CASSIUS
Be you content: good Cinna, take this paper,
And look you lay it in the praetor's chair,
Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this
In at his window; set this up with wax
Upon old Brutus' statue: all this done,
Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us.
Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there?

CINNA
All but Metellus Cimber; and he's gone
To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie,
And so bestow these papers as you bade me.

CASSIUS
That done, repair to Pompey's theatre.

Exit CINNA

Come, Casca, you and I will yet ere day
See Brutus at his house: three parts of him
Is ours already, and the man entire
Upon the next encounter yields him ours.

CASCA
O, he sits high in all the people's hearts:
And that which would appear offence in us,
His countenance, like richest alchemy,
Will change to virtue and to worthiness.

CASSIUS
Him and his worth and our great need of him
You have right well conceited. Let us go,
For it is after midnight; and ere day
We will awake him and be sure of him.

Exeunt