We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets, “Little Gidding”
“My theme is memory, that winged host that soared about me one grey morning of war-time. These memories, which are my life—for we possess nothing certainly except the past—were always with me. Like the pigeons of St. Mark’s, they were everywhere, under my feet, singly, in pairs, in little honey-voiced congregations, nodding, strutting, winking, rolling the tender feathers of their necks, perching sometimes, if I stood still, on my shoulder or pecking a broken biscuit from between my lips; until, suddenly, the noon gun boomed and in a moment, with a flutter and sweep of wings, the pavement was bare and the whole sky above dark with a tumult of fowl. Thus it was that morning.”
Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited
Because of a writing project, I have been thinking much about tradition recently. I have been trying to capture anew the emotions I felt almost fifty years ago when I first saw the University of Michigan Law School after arriving in Ann Arbor to study there. There are places on this planet which evoke a sense of tradition for any visitor, whether visiting for the first time or the fiftieth; human spaces constructed in such a manner that a mere glimpse of them produces a host of cherished memories and fervid hopes tied only to the place itself by its power to evoke them. The Michigan Law School is such a place.
Such places are often storied. Stonehenge comes to mind. The stones arranged there speak aloud to the winds that ravage the plain on which it stands; they speak of sacrifice and other mysteries lost to humanity – even as the engines of large trucks and racing automobiles on the nearby motorway can be heard, if you can pull away from its enchantment long enough to hear them. We are no longer certain what Stonehenge meant to those who built it so long ago; the loss of its purpose best evidenced by the myriad theories attempting to explain it. But its awesome power to evoke the mystery of human existence remains intact regardless of our lack of understanding.
What is it about stones and mortar that produces such a reaction? It must be more than the energy and purpose which went into the act of their construction. If that’s all it took, then any building – no matter how bland or ill-conceived – ought to produce a similar result. And it seems to be more than the artistry of their conception, for their power of evocation is unrivaled even by Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa or Michelangelo’s David. As powerful as these two magnificent pieces of art are, they speak only to portions of the human experience rather than its totality.
The places of which I write are assemblages of all the various conditions of the human spirit disguised as construction projects, and in their assemblage lies their power; they speak of humanity’s greatest virtue – its ability to survive and the unflagging effort and unyielding spirit required to do so. While Stonehenge has evolved to that class of monument which is unassailable by human hand for fear of desecration, the Michigan Law School is a living monument requiring constant attention, maintenance, and repair to preserve its vitality. The Law School, the Houses of Parliament, St. Mark’s Cathedral, Notre Dame, the Hermitage, and similar places still in use serve to remind us of the necessary spirit and effort required for our survival, while Stonehenge, the pyramids, the Great Wall, and the caves at Lascaux remind us of the majesty and evanescence of their expenditure. The former are mere aspirants to the status of the latter, and time will take their measure.
Perhaps it is because we are continuously surprised by our longevity as a species that such places offer memories and hope upon first or repeated viewing. We should not confuse our surprise with immortality, for these places are also evidence that human beliefs about the mystery of our very existence are ephemeral. But they are monuments to our perennial search for an answer to that mystery and the effort that has been and will be expended upon it; a search that will continue as long as we survive as a species and that may outlast the monuments themselves, if we are careful enough in the process not to further defile the earth on which they stand.
