Socrates: Be full of joy, O Stankophon (for such is the best way I know to address friends).
Stankophon: Why hello, Socrates. I am very pleased to welcome you to my room, for I have often wondered whether virtue can be taught and thought you were the person to ask.
Socrates: Well, yes, though I may not know the answer, I do have a great many things to say on the subject. But first, O best of men, I must ask you a question.
Stankophon: And what might that be?
Socrates: Do you ordinarily welcome guests to your room when it is in such a state?
Stankophon: Why, whatever do you mean, O friend?
Socrates: Well, it has such an odor that even as I opened the door I expected to find the decaying corpse of a large rodent on the floor. Or even that the room had been turned into one of those workshops of an ancient time where the poets claim the race of titans made a certain musical instrument out of the hide of the house cat.
Stankophon: Certainly not! But I must admit that the room has a rather peculiar scent. I have sought high and low for the source but was unable to find it, for it is too dark in here for me even to see.
Socrates: Do you mean to say that the lack of lighting in this room is the cause of your poor personal hygiene? For I admit, I often thought that those who lived in darkness were brutes, but I never imagined that even the barbarians smelled so badly.
Stankophon: The darkness is not the sole cause, but it is a contributing factor.
Socrates: But why would the University provide you with such an inadequate supply of light?
Stankophon: I do not know, but I have often wondered why they do not put a brighter or larger light fixture on the ceiling, for the windows are tiny.
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Socrates: But why then do you not go out to the the marketplace and find there a purveyor of lamps. Perhaps he could help you pick out a lamp, excelling in height and intensity.
Stankophon: Why Socrates! What a source you ordinarily are for novel invention. But here I think even I have the jump on you, for considering this, I found that I could not afford enough lamps to light this room after I had purchased my textbooks. But alas! they are unreadable in this darkness!
Socrates: By the dog!
Stankophon: It is not always so bad, O Socrates. The lighting in here is perfect for romantic situations.
Socrates: Perhaps. But have your encounters always gone well?
Stankophon: I am afraid not, for the girls often depart soon after arriving.
Socrates: I am not surprised.
Stankophon: And why not? In Megara I am known as the most handsome of men!
Socrates: But consider this parable (for men often understand best when presented with a myth, however vain): You are walking down a path that leads to a cave. Upon entering, you find the place dark and smelling of the carcasses of many slain beasts. How would you feel?
Stankophon: I would be terrified!
Socrates: But why?
Stankophon: For I would believe myself to have entered the den of a frightful creature — like a bear or a lion with a ferocious mane!
Socrates: Then why should it surprise you if a girl comes into your room and, finding it dark and offensive smelling, believes you keep the company of wild beasts?
Stankophon: Why, she might even believe that in one of the darker corners a mighty tiger is staring at her with hungry eyes, on the prowl for a little supper!
Socrates: Exactly.
Stankophon: It seems that I must light this room if I am to live as the civilized do. But since I do not have money to throw around, I must nag the University until it provides the lighting for me.
Socrates: Truly, that would seem to be the path of the most wise. Peyton Bowman, a classics major from Irvington, VA., is a 'Prince' editorial page editor. He can be reached at pgbowman@princeton.edu.