The Lay of Aristotle

Loosely following the version by Henri de Valenciennes

Old Aristotle is the tutor of the king

And seeks to advise him on every thing.

He observes the king (named Alexander)

Is, in his view, inclined to philander,

Spending too much time with his mistress, Phyllis.

The truth however is that between these two

True love ennobles everything they do,

Although to Aristotle’s syllogistic eye

Affairs of state have suffered frequently

Because the king is absent for too long.

The king neglects advisers and the court

Pursuing kingdoms in his mistress’ eyes;

To him far-flung dominions seem as nought

Compared with those her snow-white arms comprise

Whose territories he annexes in joy.

He has no thought that duty might command

Some moderation or cessation of delight.

He thinks only of taking Phyllis’ hand

And leading her through private rooms each night

With sunlit days scarce waking him from these.

Accordingly the tutor urges his young king;

‘Abjure! Abstain! Avoid the very thing

Which weakens all resolve in you.’

The Syllogist knows just what he should do

And by logic Alexander is persuaded.

Therefore begins a strangely flowerless season;

Neglected Phyllis cannot know the reason

Why her bower is neglected by the king

And Alexander suffers. No birds sing.

The hourglass fills. But this state cannot last.

For Alexander is deprived, unwhole.

He feels he has become Zeno’s arrow

Unable ever to attain its goal

And infinitely slowed into sorrow.

Something must change. Philosophy is at fault.

One day the pair meet in a corridor

And weeks of folly are at once made clear

And must not last. The king hastens to explain
That Aristotle’s logic caused this pain,

As they embrace, abandoning Philosophy.

While enjoying days of sunlit common sense,

Phyllis nonetheless has formed a plan

To test this master of dusty abstinence

And prove he is a contradictory man

Whose protestations are easily proved false.

One morning Aristotle at his abacus

Is totting up his premisses when, in a beam

Of sunlight on the lawns, steps Phyllis

Resembling something from an adolescent dream.

(Remember Aristotle is an ancient man.)

Phyllis is wearing a duck-egg blue chemise

And evidently little more.

Old Aristotle finds himself brought to his knees

(In actuality and metaphor)

And Phyllis knows she has the upper hand.

We need to emphasise her face and hair:

Her face a page beyond the realms of sense

With propositions he can not be sure

Could ever be reduced to elements…

Light falls like rain and wets his face.

And her hair is like an ocean wave at noon

Suspended, replete with sunlight, soon to break

As blonde as foam. Philosophers are prone

To classify, partition and remake –

But dazzled by this wave, this tutor fails

To understand his own identity

Or find familiar teleology,

So overwhelming is this glaring sun.

But Phyllis smiles. She has only just begun

And Aristotle proves a fool for love.

Her smock was sheer and blue like summer skies

With tiny scattered clouds. But soon

Those clouds were raised above her knees

And Aristotle stared, as if the moon

Had suddenly appeared at noon.

The old books say it: There was nothing there

Beneath her tunic that should not be there –

A modest way of praising her nakedness.

And Aristotle now is under stress

As logic thrillingly goes out the window.

Now Phyllis smiles and says, ‘I understand

The proposition you must have in mind.

You naturally desire to seize the day

But first I wish to see you seize the clay –

And carry me on all fours on your back.

Perhaps I’ll even drive you on

With a whip of myrtle as you cross the line

Between decorum and absurdity. But now

Let us proceed to nakedness and show

The furthest reaches of Philosophy.’

Entranced, this former Ethicist complies:

A saddled pack-horse labouring forth with sighs

While on his back the radiant vanquisher reigns.

Then as she drives him on and holds the reins,

The smiling king observes his tutor’s pains.

The sun hides its smile behind a cloud

While on the balcony with pride

Alexander notes this spectacle:

Philosophy confounded by its receptacle –

The body, which is easily misled.

Later, Aristotle faces questioning

From Alexander for this seeming wrong,

But soon resorts to sophistry;

The Philosopher (now clothed) makes this reply:

‘My boy, I did all this for you.

I wanted you to see the foolishness

A man may fall into. I made this case

Expecting you would see revealed

How Moderation is essential in this world.’

Thus Aristotle vindicates himself.