against the sovereign (some of them)nare remembered.nThis readiness not only of individualsnbut of public authority to say itnwas wrong is at the heart of respect fornopposition, probably the most accuratenmeasure of freedom in a country. Itnhas also made possible the independencenof the judiciary, an institutionnthat decisively separates the modernnfrom the ancient world, as Montesquieunfirst realized. Kingship toonmarked the difference between thenancient and modern world, as Montesquieunalso pointed out, when he saidnthere was no comparison between thenEuropean kings and the ancient, onlynthe word appeared the same.nIt is this readiness of authority itselfnand the institutions it has broughtnabout, to say they are wrong, that putsnus in a culture in which our.institudonsnand our public ways are better thannourselves — than some of us at least —nand allows us, and encourages us, to donthings we would hardly dare on ournown. That many of us still do not darendespite their encouragement and permissionnis one reason for our pervasivenresdessness and even resentment. Fornour way of life makes us often feel wencould be better than we are, by offeringnus more than we can cope with.nI suspect you have felt this in yournfour years here, riches everywhere,nmore than you could take in, and alsonsomething like a sense that they belongednto somebody else because youndid not know how to make them yours.nThere is also something that makes itn50/CHRONICLESnLIBERAL ARTSnIT’LL PROBABLY RAISE THEnTEMPERATURE OF HELL, TOOndoubly hard to make books your ownnwhen you read them in school. Assignednreading is perhaps more accurate,nmore objective, but you do notnfeel the full brunt of the work the waynyou do when you read a book on yourn. own, when the reading is passionate.nBut the more books are important tonyou, the more you also have to knownhow to get along without them. Innsome way you get along without themnby letting them become a part of you,nso much so that you only recognizentheir presence in you years later whennyou read them again. In some sensenthe mark of their presence in you is thenfeeling that you have forgotten everythingnyou have read, and never reallynread anything properly. I suspect that angood many of you had read importantnbooks on your own before you camenhere, and came here because of that,nbecause you did not know what to donwith their life in you.nFinally, the test of a tradition lies innyour readiness to imitate and continuenit. It is also the test of your education.nIn some way almost everything you donwill continue it, to the extent that it isninstitutionalized in the professions, politicalnlife, etc. But even in such ways ofnlife you will have to rediscover it, andnalso make it new, for the oldest thingsnin our civilization are the newest, thenthings that will surprise you most, and,nin some instances, the things that willnseem most different, almost inconceivable.nThese days — I mean the lastnthirty years, a generation — we arenscared of those surprises, for they awak-nIn October there was more than one complaint about the cutnof itemized deductions, which would prevent taxpayers innstates with high state taxes from deducting those taxes onntheir federal form. Representative Thomas J. Dewey, anDemocrat from Suffolk County on Long Island, told anreporter that “I think it stinks. You are going to make NewnYork and Long Island a less attractive place to live.”nnnen a dread almost as deep as thenassurance they occasion, and whichnoccasions them, so that we are willingnto setde for all sorts of absurd nonsense,nto distract us from what we arenall about, from the things and accomplishmentsnthat will really take ournbreath away.nYou cannot simply decide one daynyou will imitate the tradition and startnthe next, for the same reason that youncannot decide to fall in .love: you cannonly allow it to happen. It is a slownjourney in which the steps you have tontake are not obvious, harder these daysnperhaps than before, because there arenfewer teachers with the assurance tonguide you and above all to limit you.nBut assured teachers also take years tonoutgrow, for their tradition cannot benentirely yours, and the limits that reallyncount are the ones that you give yourself.nImitating the tradition means daringnto learn from works, imitating the waynthey do things, not repeating theirnthought. Some of this goes on withoutnyour notice, and has been going onnalready without your notice. But thenmore you grow in it, the more younreally do it, the more will the imitationnhave to be conscious, and the morenanxiety and doubt it will occasion. Thenonly confidence I know of comes fromnenduring that doubt, which will grownintenser the closer you are to doingnsomething.nWhat I am saying is that the way tonreally be on your own is to imitate thentradition, not to flee it. The challengenis to find the way to do that, and thendifficulty is that the way finally has tonbe your own, a way nobody else couldnhave taken, but at the same time cannotnbe your own unless it has a firmnrelation to what went before. Thendeeper its relation to the past, the morenit will be your own. This paradox is thenreason why masterpieces appear bothntotally new, without one word misplaced,nas if they were written effortlesslynand involuntarily in a flood ofnlove, and at the same time seem to benthe obvious next step after what camenbefore. But my experience is that thisntime, the years since 1917, dreads mostnwhat is its own; or, to put it better,ndreads having something of its own.nLeo Raditsa teaches at St. John’snCollege in Annapolis, Maryland.n