today, as i was sitting in class, it came to me that gordon teskey is really very like herbert tucker - they even look a little alike, although you have to see them in the flesh to see this resemblance. these pictures i've got here don't quite work, but it's difficult trying to find photographs of literature professors, (tucker and teskey) - but to my mind, what they really share are their quiet charm, old-world genteelnes and a high degree of cordial formality. not warmth, no, nor even what one calls, loosely, "niceness," but courtliness. just some weeks ago one of the senior miltonists was telling me he thought teskey had impeccable manners. impeccable? dites-moi, i said. answer: at the renaissance colloquium thursday dinners (these are casual affairs that they go to after the colloquium, just like the ones the medievalists have, and are usually held at spice.) he is the only man who still rises when a woman does. that's what i mean. old-school courtesy that is habitual and impersonal, and yet that obstinate adherence to something slightly obsolete comes across as a touching kindness to the person who experiences it. i've only been to two classes with him so far, but you immediately see that he is just about the only one who dresses for class (even among the oldest professors no one bothers - and he certainly isn't of the oldest generation - i should think he is just about 50, give or take a year or two.) so that the tiny glint of cufflinks when he gestures, the carefully puffed white pocket square against a quiet olive suit, and above all his translucent round northrop frye glasses, all combine to transport you to a different time. i can quite see why another classmate has lost her heart to him, because i'm sure that before term is out i shall too.