The filing cabinet, the Imp, and the Greek

[terrykb]

Given my habit of filing papers rather than throwing them away (I blame a history of serving as committee secretary topped off with three years of professional training), a search through my archives last week turned up an interesting variety of finds on the way before finding the documents I actually needed.

Some (for example my old college's grace) are interesting in their own right. Some, marking important events in my life, have personal significance which makes me reluctant to dispose of them. And some seem of little use now, but I harbour an optimistic hope that they might be of historical (for some sufficiently ungrandiose value of "historical") interest some day. (This might be a reader's equivalent of the Antiques-Roadshow-inspired but probably forlorn hope that one's knick-knacks will turn out to be lucrative collectibles.)

(But I'm mildly disappointed that I couldn't supply a committee representing undergraduate mathematicians with a copy of its constitution which I drafted many years ago (now reported missing). Checking my Friends list, three of you sat on the committee when this was agreed, and one engaged in spirited discussion with representatives of the faculty over the "chairman"/"chairperson" distinction: if any of you happen to have held on to a copy, could you let me know?)

This excavation of the filing cabinet's sediments was prompted by the arrival of an unexpected tax return in the post — which is at least less unpleasant than an unexpected hanging. That page led me on to the related bottle imp paradox, which I hadn't come across before. It comes from a story by Robert Louis Stevenson: in summary, you have the opportunity to buy a bottle containing an imp which will grant you whatever you desire, but before you die, you must sell the bottle for less than you paid for it (or, warns the elderly man who sells the bottle to Keawe, burn in hell for ever). You won't accept the bottle for free (because you will never be rid of it); you probably won't buy it for one penny (because that assumes you'll find someone who will accept the bottle for free); is there any price which one might pay? (I find myself reminded of the greater fool theory to justify buying overpriced shares: one knows somebody is going to end up holding them when the time the bubble bursts, but hopes it won't be oneself... However, the negative utility of eternal damnation doesn't fit terribly well into traditional investment appraisal methods.)

The literal jaws of hell also make an appearance in The Adoration of the Name of Jesus, on show at the El Greco exhibition at the National Gallery, which helenbr and I saw on Saturday. (This was after making our way through the anti-war protests in Trafalgar Square which we hadn't known would be there.)

It was an enjoyable exhibition, with beautiful pictures which also jogged rusty memories of Bible stories and classical mythology. The progression in El Greco's style was probably clearest in the four versions of the Purification of the Temple (depicting Christ driving the moneylenders out), moving from the more naturalistic versions of the early 1570s on to the freer versions of the 1600s, when he was producing the works (for example St Peter) which look strikingly modern and whose style (the exhibition guide helpfully points out) would later inspire 20th century artists such as Picasso and Pollock.

(As we went for tea after emerging from the Gallery, the number of placards propped up outside the door of the Café in the Crypt at St Martin-in-the-Fields suggested that they were also having a busy afternoon catering for anti-war protestors who needed a break.)

Comments

[juliet]

Sadly, no - I am trying to control my habit of keeping random papers by chucking out vast swathes of stuff every time I move house :-)

[tkb.livejournal.com]

Thanks for the reply: moving is, I found, a good prompt to be rid of things. I once read that removal men are wary of middle-class households because they have too many heavy books. I've not had to move very often, but I fear that any such removal people would look in horror at my bookshelves and files...

[addedentry.livejournal.com]

The bottle imp paradox can be sidestepped if your currency is infinitely divisible (or if the imp can be persuaded to take account of inflation). Alternatively, I believe Blue Peter would invite children to send them malicious chain letters; a public Office of Bottle Imp Purchasing could be established to take all such snares out of circulation. (There would be no danger to its staff: bureaucrats have no soul.)

I don't believe I ever had a copy of the MURC constitution, alas, and in any case I am a vicious, almost foolhardy, weeder. The Wayback Machine preserves a few versions of the MURC website but none seem to carry it.

[tkb.livejournal.com]

The bottle imp paradox can be sidestepped if your currency is infinitely divisible (or if the imp can be persuaded to take account of inflation).

Alas, RLS spotted the first loophole and does specify "Only remember it must be coined money that you sell it for." But this is what relates it (as I see it) to the unexpected hanging, which is similarly sidestepped if the prisoner is to be executed at any moment between Monday and Friday, since there is no "next-to-last" moment for the induction to get its teeth into.

Inflation, on the other hand, I agree does do what we need.

Thanks for the link to the Wayback Machine. We'll have to see whether the Mathematical Institute's archives stretch back that far...

[helenbr.livejournal.com]

Some (for example my old college's grace) are interesting in their own right. Some, marking important events in my life, have personal significance which makes me reluctant to dispose of them. And some seem of little use now, but I harbour an optimistic hope that they might be of historical (for some sufficiently ungrandiose value of "historical") interest some day. (This might be a reader's equivalent of the Antiques-Roadshow-inspired but probably forlorn hope that one's knick-knacks will turn out to be lucrative collectibles.)

Not necessarily (though I'm not putting forward any guarantees about lucrativeness). It depends what sort of thing it is. Lincoln's archivist puts out pleas in the college newsletter from time to time for any ordinary memorabilia that would show what life used to be like as it was lived rather than just on ceremonial occasions. Some of the stuff that we regard as trivial now may turn out to be just what someone wants in a hundred years or so, though I'm not sure how much use that is to us given that, barring any great medical breakthroughs, we're unlikely to be around to notice.

I have a few trees worth of paper stored up around the place of things which I have filed as 'memoriabilia'. I'm never sure how much any of it is actually benefiting me but as it's my only record of various things that I've done, I don't really want to throw it away either.

with beautiful pictures which also jogged rusty memories of Bible stories

Speaking of which this NG on-line catalogue entry for The Agony in the Garden of Gethsemane confirms that the sleeping people in the picture were indeed some apostles (which we did guess, didn't we, but not I think prove). Obviously, if one was really up with one's Bible stories, one would be able to say as they do which ones they were but I don't think my religious education ever went that far.