en’s Seventh (naturally), he dances HkenDavid before the Ark, because likenDavid he is man and still the anointednof the Lord. “What good is not directlynbreathed into the world by the holynspirit must come down by and throughnthe nature of men.” This, then, isnMatty’s incarnational view of Christiannrealism.nFinally, back to Mr. Pedigree, thenonly person with whom Matty wantedna friendly relationship. His pederastynis presented as especially repugnant,nparticularly as he grows older. His attemptnto have his cake and eat it too isndoomed by his inability to control thentwo impulses of his soul (Plato’snPhaedrus). He lived in a fantasy, pretendingnto himself that he was “thenowner of two boys: one, an example ofnpure beauty, the other, an earthy littlenman!” He becomes a human wreck becausenhis “spiritual relationships” turnninto fumbling at the flies of little boys.nMatty understands finally that this isnan obscene, yet truthful and accurate,nsymbol of Pedigree’s need (our need: henis our Stetson) for love. “You think Inlike wandering round lavatories andnpublic parks, desperate for . . . affection.”nEarly on, Matty thought it impossiblento heal Pedigree. After comingnback to England, he tries unsuccessfullynto draw Pedigree into his circle.nBut it all comes together after Matty’sndeath-disappearance. Pedigree goes tonthe park with his brilliantly colored ball,nthe decoy for some “earthy little man.”nIn a triumphant visionary scene, Mattynappears to him in an ambience of warm,ngolden light. Pedigree speaks:n”They call it so many things . . . sex,nmoney, power, knowledge —and allnthe time it lies right on their skin!nThe thing they all want withoutnknowing it—yet that it should benyou, ugly little Matty, who reallynloved me! I tried to throw it awaynyou know, but it wouldn’t go. Whonare you, Matty.?”n”Help me,” he cries, and Matty growsnfiercely golden as in a fire, terrible andn16nChronicles of Culturenloving. He speaks to Pedigree, but notnin human speech: Freedom. Despite hisnstruggle, Matty takes him to the placenof freedom and love. The strings thatnbound him to the brilliantly colorednball are broken.nIvemembering the majestic, threateningnlines which open Paradise Lost isnthe most comprehensive approach tonthe title of the novel. “No light, butnrather darkness visible.” It is particularlynthrough Sophy that Milton’snterrible imagery is worked into a contemporarynsetting: obdurate pride,nsteadfast hate and utter darkness. Butnit is Matty who makes darkness visiblenin the sense that because of him we,nwho wish the light, see the meaning ofnthe darkness. “What is in me dark/nIllumine.” The second last word belongsnto Golding:n”At the very moment when people arencertain that their actions and thoughtsnare most hidden in darkness, they oftennfind out to their astonishmentnand grief how they have been performingnin the bright light of day andnbefore an audience. Sometimes thendiscovery is a blinding and destroyingnshock. Sometimes it isgentle.”nAnd the last word to Isaiah (35:4):n”Courage! Do not be afraid.nLook, your God is coming,nvengeance is coming,nthe retribution of God:nHe is coming to save you.” DnThe Classic Standards of Truthnand VirtuenBarry M. Goldwater: With No Apologies;nWilliam Morrow & Co.; NewnYork.nby Otto J. ScottnSuppose the child who pointed outnthe emperor’s nakedness had beennslapped, carried away in disgrace,nwhipped and put to bed without supper?nThat doesn’t require much imaginationnto visualize: we live in a world wherentruth-tellers are beaten more often thannnot—and then there is the grisly examplenof Barry Goldwater. That example isnone of the more dramatic and importantnin our history, but there is little likelihoodnthat any fashionable dramatist willnput it on the boards or project it in film,nfor the “right people” were wrong, andnthe “wrong people” were right.nJust how wrong and how right thesenvarious peoples actually were is recallednOtto Scott’s latest book is The SecretnSix: John Brown and the AbolitionistnMovement.nnnfor us by Goldwater in this remarkable,nwell-documented, clear and candid politicalnautobiography. No full-length, indepthnreviews are to be expected regardingnthis masterwork in fashionablenquarters, however, for it is as tellingnas Tacitus, whose Annales it resembles.nGoldwater was elected to the Senatenin 1952, in the Republican landslidenheaded by Eisenhower, to whom henrefers, nearly always, as the General.nThat initial victory was by a margin ofnonly 7,000 votes, and as a junior senatornunder the old rules, Goldwater was notnexpected to make waves. From the start,nhowever, he credited the evidence ofnhis senses regarding the ways of Washingtonnand the condition of the nation.nThis is by no means a common habit,nand certainly not one generally associatednwith intellectuals. These, whomnthe prolific Anonymous once definednas “persons who know what everybodynelse has said or written about everything,”nare more apt to believe what theynread and hear than what they see.nThe senator, however, not only sawn