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Interim Archivist Makes a Curious Discovery
In the Absence of Light . . .
In recent years, the mysterious disappearance of Fenwick's sometime-Archivist and Master of the Vault & Keeper of Secrets Louis Light has cast a shadow over the institution. Indeed, in the absence of Light, the so-called "Young Fenwickians" have proved listless, unreliable, and ultimately, painfully disappointing. Worse still, Light -- who is supposed to have retreated into the darkness -- keeps making his presence known. Such a refusal to remain hidden has led some to suspect that Light is not really a Keeper of Secrets at all, but a whistleblower (or, worse, a fluteplayer) of the most disreputable persuasion, one who masquerades as a true guardian of the mysteries only to draw them out into the light of day!
With these suspicions clouding his character, and in the wake of the mysterious disappearance of the Young Fenwickians who have essentially stopped replying to the University's generous invitations (and email correspondences), Immediate Past President Joseph has seen fit disband the young troupe of merrymakers (not that they'll even read this and know it) and hire an Interim Archivist and Protector of the Mysteries, C. Maron (note: not Moron), PhD (Pretty huge Deal), who is a poet, translator, and all around enigmatic fellow. Astonishingly, this very C. Maron, upon assuming Light's former-role and accepting the keys to the Fenwick Vault, made the discovery reported on below.
(Please note: Unless otherwise specified, all future discoveries uncovered in the Fenwick Archive will come from the diligent work of C. Maron, as he alone possesses the keys to bind and loose the archival mysteries.)
Background (Offered by C. Maron)
I will begin not by recounting the story of this work’s discovery (though it be quite extraordinary), but with some background details on the text itself. This play is thought by scholars to be dated around the first century A.D., with its authorship being owed to none other than the loving slave girl of Caius Petronius, Eunice. It is speculated that in an effort to win over the heart of the old decadent, Eunice penned this work on various scraps of papyrus she had stolen from her master. It is said that shortly after it was read by him, Petronius fell for our Eunice as well.
Upon giving this work a read through, it is evident that Thyrsus in Bloom could not have been written by anyone but the historical Eunice. This is made evident as the hero of the play, Adidaktos, gives up the sensual wonders found in the house of Dionysus (orgies, drinking, etc.) in search of his soulmate. Whereas, in the same vein, Eunice had long pined for Petronius, wishing he would give up the debauchery he so often procured for himself as the ‘director of elegance’ to the Emperor, and be with her ‘usque ad mortem’.
Also, the character Pipa is an obvious attempt from Eunice to write herself into the storyline as the protagonist’s main love interest (any scholar who doubts this has clearly not read my work Impressions and Interpretations of Obscure Bacchic Literature). This is evinced by the striking similarities of their standing (Eunice a slave, Pipa a former slave), their love for the flute and fluting, and their most unusual, almost musical way of speaking (as attested to us by Petronius himself). But now, enough of the background; I will tell the story of the work’s miraculous discovery…
A Description of the Discovery (by, Who Else?, C. Maron)
It was one dreary afternoon in N--. So dreary, in fact, that the rainclouds appeared to be swallowing up the heavens and the earth. Unsurprisingly, my spirits were a bit low. I had heaps of research ahead of me in order to write my article on bacchic literature and history titled “The Phallus; Funny, or Frightening?”, and was perusing the Fenwick Archives for any material I could find to use as a source. I was looking for hours, and it had seemed as if I was getting nowhere; that was until I heard a voice that resounded so loudly, it was as if it had come from God himself:
“Let them be, Light!” he said, speaking of course to the esteemed professor of our university, Louis Light. “Let them be! You know that if you keep trying to induct our students into that Ophelian-or-whatever-cult-thing you’ve got going on, you’re going to get us both fired!”
And there was Light, standing, as it were, with both hands firmly grasping the lapels of two young Fenwickians, both clad in all black suits.
“But they must know the truth!” Light began. “For how are they to ever realize that Cain was actually the good brother? And that– that– that communion doesn’t count if there's no snake on the bread! And– and– and– and that true gnosis is only to be found in Greenwich Village, New York?”
Thus spoke Louis Light to the other professor, whose identity remains a mystery to me to this day. Eventually, his Godlike interlocutor divided Light from his swarthy Fenwickian companions, at which point the students promptly ran off. Some more hushed words were then exchanged between the two professors, when suddenly, Light redirected his gaze at me. Our interaction went something like this:
“You there! ‘Moron’, isn’t it? You are the new literature professor, are you not?”
“I am who I am.”
“Well, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. You can call me Louis, I am the so-called keeper of these archives.”
“Then you must be able to help me out with something I am trying to do. You see, I am doing a bit of research on the bacchae for the purposes of this article that I am writing, and I need some help locating a suitable text that I could work with. Do you happen to know of one?”
“One?” he replied, “I know of a whole slew of books like that. In fact, there is even a [REDACTED BY INTERIM ARCHIVIST] within these very walls… Come, let me show you to the section.”
Light then led me through a false door, located between sections [REDACTED BY INTERIM ARCHIVIST]. I couldn’t believe my eyes! There was every sort of lost and obscure novel and play and poem from antiquity, and they were all within reach! One would only have to compile and translate these fragments, and the world of classics would be changed forever…
It is safe to say that that day I had found a diamond in the rough, a treasure in the field worth all that I have. And, with the recent disappearance of Light, it seems that I will be permitted by the new archivist (i.e. me) to translate those newly found hidden works as I see fit.
Importance
The importance of the finding of this text is manifold, and should not be understated whatsoever.