Pages from a Journal with Other Papers Part 2

Newton's perception that the moon perpetually falls to the earth by the same numerical law under which a stone falls to it was an adequate perception. "Therefore," continues the demonstration (quoting the fifteenth proposition of the first part--"Whatever is, is in G.o.d, and nothing can either be or be conceived without G.o.d"), "the mind can cause all the affections of the body to be related to the idea of G.o.d."

Spinoza, having arrived at his adequate idea thus takes a further step to the idea of G.o.d. What is perceived is not an isolated external phenomenon. It is a reality in G.o.d: it IS G.o.d: there is nothing more to be thought or said of G.o.d than the affirmation of such realities as these. The "relation to the idea of G.o.d" means that in the affirmation He is affirmed. "Nothing," that is to say, no reality "can be conceived without G.o.d."

But it is possible for the word "love" to be applied to the relationship between man and G.o.d. He who has a clear and adequate perception pa.s.ses to greater perfection, and therefore rejoices. Joy, accompanied with the idea of a cause, is love. By the fourteenth proposition this joy is accompanied by the idea of G.o.d as its cause, and therefore love to G.o.d follows. The demonstration seems formal, and we ask ourselves, What is the actual emotion which Spinoza describes? It is not new to him, for in the Short Treatise, which is an early sketch for the Ethic, he thus writes:- "Hence it follows incontrovertibly that it is knowledge which is the cause of love, so that when we learn to know G.o.d in this way, we must necessarily unite ourselves to Him, for He cannot be known, nor can he reveal Himself, save as that which is supremely great and good. In this union alone, as we have already said, our happiness consists. I do not say that we must know Him adequately; but it is sufficient for us, in order to be united with Him, to know Him in a measure, for the knowledge we have of the body is not of such a kind that we can know it as it is or perfectly; and yet what a union! what love!" {50}

Perhaps it may clear the ground a little if we observe that Spinoza often avoids a negative by a positive statement. Here he may intend to show us what the love of G.o.d is not, that it is not what it is described in the popular religion to be. "The only love of G.o.d I know," we may imagine him saying, "thus arises. The adequate perception is the keenest of human joys for thereby I see G.o.d Himself. That which I see is not a thing or a person, but nevertheless what I feel towards it can be called by no other name than love. Although the object of this love is not thing or person it is not indefinite, it is this only which is definite; 'thing' and 'person' are abstract and unreal. There was a love to G.o.d in Kepler's heart when the three laws were revealed to him.

If it was not love to G.o.d, what is love to Him?"

To the eighteenth proposition, "No one can hate G.o.d," there is a scholium which shows that the problem of pain which Spinoza has left unsolved must have occurred to him. "But some may object that if we understand G.o.d to be the cause of all things, we do for that very reason consider Him to be the cause of sorrow. But I reply that in so far as we understand the causes of sorrow, it ceases to be a pa.s.sion (Prop. 3, pt. 5), that is to say (Prop. 59, pt. 3) it ceases to be a sorrow; and therefore in so far as we understand G.o.d to be the cause of sorrow do we rejoice." The third proposition of the fifth part which he quotes merely proves that in so far as we understand pa.s.sion it ceases to be a pa.s.sion. He replies to those "who ask why G.o.d has not created all men in such a manner that they might be controlled by the dictates of reason alone," {52} "Because to Him material was not wanting for the creation of everything, from the highest down to the very lowest grade of perfection; or, to speak more properly, because the laws of His nature were so ample that they sufficed for the production of everything which can be conceived by an infinite intellect." Nevertheless of pain we have no explanation. Pain is not lessened by understanding it, nor is its mystery penetrated if we see that to G.o.d material could not have been wanting for the creation of men or animals who have to endure it all their lives. But if Spinoza is silent in the presence of pain, so also is every religion and philosophy which the world has seen. Silence is the only conclusion of the Book of Job, and patient fort.i.tude in the hope of future enlightenment is the conclusion of Christianity.

It is a weak mistake, however, to put aside what religions and philosophies tell us because it is insufficient. To Job it is not revealed why suffering is apportioned so unequally or why it exists, but the answer of the Almighty from the whirlwind he cannot dispute, and although Spinoza has nothing more to say about pain than he says in the pa.s.sages just quoted and was certainly not exempt from it himself, it may be impossible that any man should hate G.o.d.

We now come to the final propositions of the Ethic, those in which Spinoza declares his belief in the eternity of mind. The twenty-second and twenty-third propositions of the fifth part are as follows:-

"In G.o.d, nevertheless, there necessarily exists an idea which expresses the essence of this or that human body under the form of eternity."

"The human mind cannot be absolutely destroyed with the body, but something of it remains which is eternal."

The word "nevertheless" is a reference to the preceding proposition which denies the continuity of memory or imagination excepting so long as the body lasts. The demonstration of the twenty-third proposition is not easy to grasp, but the substance of it is that although the mind is the idea of the body, that is to say, the mind is body as thought and body is thought as extension, the mind, or essence of the body, is not completely destroyed with the body. It exists as an eternal idea, and by an eternal necessity in G.o.d. Here again we must not think of that personality which is nothing better than a material notion, an image from the concrete applied to mind, but we must cling fast to thought, to the thoughts which alone makes us what we ARE, and these, says Spinoza, are in G.o.d and are not to be defined by time. They have always been and always will be. The enunciation of the thirty-third proposition is, "The intellectual love of G.o.d which arises from the third kind of knowledge is eternal." The "third kind of knowledge" is that intuitive science which "advances from an adequate idea of the formal essence of certain attributes of G.o.d to the adequate knowledge of the essence of things; {54} "No love except intellectual love is eternal," {55a} and the scholium to this proposition adds, "If we look at the common opinion of men, we shall see that they are indeed conscious of the eternity of their minds, but they confound it with duration, and attribute it to imagination or memory, which they believe remain after death." The intellectual love of the mind towards G.o.d is the very "love with which He loves Himself, not in so far as He is infinite, but in so far as He can be manifested through the essence of the human mind, considered under the form of eternity; that is to say, the intellectual love of the mind towards G.o.d is part of the infinite love with which G.o.d loves Himself." {55b} "Hence it follows that G.o.d, in so far as He loves Himself, loves men, and consequently that the love of G.o.d towards men and the intellectual love of the mind towards G.o.d are one and the same thing." {55c} The more adequate ideas the mind forms "the less it suffers from those affects which are evil, and the less it fears death"

because "the greater is that part which remains unharmed, and the less consequently does it suffer from the affects." It is possible even "for the human mind to be of such a nature that that part of it which we have shown perishes with its body, in comparison with the part of it which remains, is of no consequence." {56a}

Spinoza, it is clear, holds that in some way--in what way he will not venture to determine--the more our souls are possessed by the intellectual love of G.o.d, the less is death to be dreaded, for the smaller is that part of us which can die. Three parallel pa.s.sages may be appended. One will show that this was Spinoza's belief from early years and the other two that it is not peculiar to him. "If the soul is united with some other thing which is and remains unchangeable, it must also remain unchangeable and permanent." {56b} "Further, this creative reason does not at one time think, at another time not think [it thinks eternally]: and when separated from the body it remains nothing but what it essentially is: and thus it is alone immortal and eternal. Of this unceasing work of thought, however, we retain no memory, because this reason is unaffected by its objects; whereas the receptive, pa.s.sive intellect (which is affected) is perishable, and can really think nothing without the support of the creative intellect." {57a} The third quotation is from a great philosophic writer, but one to whom perhaps we should not turn for such a coincidence. "I believe," said Pantagruel, "that all intellectual souls are exempt from the scissors of Atropos.

They are all immortal." {57b}

I have not tried to write an essay on Spinoza, for in writing an essay there is a temptation to a consistency and completeness which are contributed by the writer and are not to be found in his subject. The warning must be reiterated that here as elsewhere we are too desirous, both writers and readers, of clear definition where none is possible.

We do not stop where the object of our contemplation stops for our eyes.

For my own part I must say that there is much in Spinoza which is beyond me, much which I cannot EXTEND, and much which, if it can be extended, seems to involve contradiction. But I have also found his works productive beyond those of almost any man I know of that acquiescentia mentis which enables us to live.

SUPPLEMENTARY NOTE ON THE DEVIL

Spinoza denies the existence of the Devil, and says, in the Short Treatise, that if he is the mere opposite of G.o.d and has nothing from G.o.d, he is simply the Nothing. But if a philosophical doctrine be true, it does not follow that as it stands it is applicable to practical problems. For these a rule may have to be provided, which, although it may not be inconsistent with the scientific theorem, differs from it in form. The Devil is not an invention of priests for priestly purposes, nor is he merely a hypothesis to account for facts, but he has been forced upon us in order that we may be able to deal with them. Unless we act as though there were an enemy to be resisted and chained, if we fritter away differences of kind into differences of degree, we shall make poor work of life. Spinoza himself a.s.sumes that other commands than G.o.d's may be given to us, but that we are unhesitatingly to obey His and His only. "Ad fidem ergo catholicam," he says, "ea solummodo pertinent, quae erga Deum OBEDIENTIA absolute ponit." Consciousness seems to testify to the presence of two mortal foes within us--one Divine and the other diabolic--and perhaps the strongest evidence is not the rebellion of the pa.s.sions, but the picturing and the mental processes which are almost entirely beyond our control, and often greatly distress us. We look down upon them; they are not ours, and yet they are ours, and we cry out with St. Paul against the law warring with the law of our minds. Bunyan of course knows the practical problem and the rule, and to him the Devil is not merely the tempter to crimes, but the great Adversary. In the Holy War the chosen regiments of Diabolus are the Doubters, and notwithstanding their theologic names, they carried deadlier weapons than the theologic doubters of to-day. The captain over the Grace-doubters was Captain d.a.m.nation; he over the Felicity-doubters was Captain Past-hope, and his ancient-bearer was Mr.

Despair. The nature of the Doubters is "to put a question upon every one of the truths of Emanuel, and their country is called the Land of Doubting, and that land lieth off and furthest remote to the north between the land of Darkness and that called the Valley of the Shadow of Death." They are not children of the sun, and although they are not sinners in the common sense of the word, those that were caught in Mansoul were promptly executed.

There is nothing to be done but to fight and wait for the superior help which will come if we do what we can. Emanuel at first delayed his aid in the great battle, and the first brunt was left to Captain Credence.

Presently, however, Emanuel appeared "with colours flying, trumpets sounding, and the feet of his men scarce touched the ground; they hasted with such celerity towards the captains that were engaged that . . .

there was not left so much as one Doubter alive, they lay spread upon the ground dead men as one would spread dung on the land." The dead were buried "lest the fumes and ill-favours that would arise from them might infect the air and so annoy the famous town of Mansoul." But it will be a fight to the end for Diabolus, and the lords of the pit escaped.

After Emanuel had finally occupied Mansoul he gave the citizens some advice. The policy of Diabolus was "to make of their castle a warehouse." Emanuel made it a fortress and a palace, and garrisoned the town. "O my Mansoul," he said, "nourish my captains; make not my captains sick, O Mansoul."

INJUSTICE

A notion, self-begotten in me, of the limitations of my friend is answerable for the barrenness of my intercourse with him. I set him down as hard; I speak to him as if he were hard and from that which is hard in myself. Naturally I evoke only that which is hard, although there may be fountains of tenderness in him of which I am altogether unaware. It is far better in conversation not to regulate it according to supposed capacities or tempers, which are generally those of some fict.i.tious being, but to be simply ourselves. We shall often find unexpected and welcome response.

Our estimates of persons, unless they are frequently revived by personal intercourse, are apt to alter insensibly and to become untrue. They acquire increased definiteness but they lose in comprehensiveness.

Especially is this true of those who are dead. If I do not read a great author for some time my mental abstract of him becomes summary and false. I turn to him again, all summary judgments upon him become impossible, and he partakes of infinitude. Writers, and people who are in society and talk much are apt to be satisfied with an algebraic symbol for a man of note, and their work is done not with him but with x.

TIME SETTLES CONTROVERSIES

We ought to let Time have his own way in the settlement of our disputes.

It is a commonplace how much he is able to do with some of our troubles, such as loss of friends or wealth; but we do not sufficiently estimate his power to help our arguments. If I permit myself to dispute, I always go beyond what is necessary for my purpose, and my continual iteration and insistence do nothing but provoke opposition. Much better would it be simply to state my case and leave it. To do more is not only to distrust it, but to distrust that in my friend which is my best ally, and will more surely a.s.sist me than all my vehemence. Sometimes-- nay, often--it is better to say nothing, for there is a constant tendency in Nature towards rectification, and her quiet protest and persuasiveness are hindered by personal interference. If anybody very dear to me were to fall into any heresy of belief or of conduct, I am not sure that I ought to rebuke him, and that he would not sooner be converted by observing my silent respect for him than by preaching to him.

TALKING ABOUT OUR TROUBLES

We may talk about our troubles to those persons who can give us direct help, but even in this case we ought as much as possible to come to a provisional conclusion before consultation; to be perfectly clear to ourselves within our own limits. Some people have a foolish trick of applying for aid before they have done anything whatever to aid themselves, and in fact try to talk themselves into perspicuity. The only way in which they can think is by talking, and their speech consequently is not the expression of opinion already and carefully formed, but the manufacture of it.

We may also tell our troubles to those who are suffering if we can lessen their own. It may be a very great relief to them to know that others have pa.s.sed through trials equal to theirs and have survived.

There are obscure, nervous diseases, hypochondriac fancies, almost uncontrollable impulses, which terrify by their apparent singularity.

If we could believe that they are common, the worst of the fear would vanish.

But, as a rule, we should be very careful for our own sake not to speak much about what distresses us. Expression is apt to carry with it exaggeration, and this exaggerated form becomes henceforth that under which we represent our miseries to ourselves, so that they are thereby increased. By reserve, on the other hand, they are diminished, for we attach less importance to that which it was not worth while to mention.

Secrecy, in fact, may be our salvation.

It is injurious to be always treated as if something were the matter with us. It is health-giving to be dealt with as if we were healthy, and the man who imagines his wits are failing becomes stronger and sounder by being entrusted with a difficult problem than by all the a.s.surances of a doctor.

They are poor creatures who are always craving for pity. If we are sick, let us prefer conversation upon any subject rather than upon ourselves. Let it turn on matters that lie outside the dark chamber, upon the last new discovery, or the last new idea. So shall we seem still to be linked to the living world. By perpetually asking for sympathy an end is put to real friendship. The friend is afraid to intrude anything which has no direct reference to the patient's condition lest it should be thought irrelevant. No love even can long endure without complaint, silent it may be, an invalid who is entirely self-centred; and what an agony it is to know that we are tended simply as a duty by those who are nearest to us, and that they will really be relieved when we have departed! From this torture we may be saved if we early apprentice ourselves to the art of self-suppression and sternly apply the gag to eloquence upon our own woes. n.o.body who really cares for us will mind waiting on us even to the long-delayed last hour if we endure in fort.i.tude.

There is no harm in confronting our disorders or misfortunes. On the contrary, the attempt is wholesome. Much of what we dread is really due to indistinctness of outline. If we have the courage to say to ourselves, What IS this thing, then? let the worst come to the worst, and what then? we shall frequently find that after all it is not so terrible. What we have to do is to subdue tremulous, nervous, insane fright. Fright is often prior to an object; that is to say, the fright comes first and something is invented or discovered to account for it.

There are certain states of body and mind which are productive of objectless fright, and the most ridiculous thing in the world is able to provoke it to activity. It is perhaps not too much to say that any calamity the moment it is apprehended by the reason alone loses nearly all its power to disturb and unfix us. The conclusions which are so alarming are not those of the reason, but, to use Spinoza's words, of the "affects."

FAITH

Faith is n.o.bly seen when a man, standing like Columbus upon the sh.o.r.e with a dark, stormy Atlantic before him, resolves to sail, and although week after week no land be visible, still believes and still sails on; but it is n.o.bler when there is no America as the goal of our venture, but something which is unsubstantial, as, for example, self-control and self-purification. It is curious, by the way, that discipline of this kind should almost have disappeared. Possibly it is because religion is now a matter of belief in certain propositions; but, whatever the cause may be, we do not train ourselves day by day to become better as we train ourselves to learn languages or science. To return from this parenthesis, we say that when no applause nor even recognition is expected, to proceed steadily and alone for its own sake in the work of saving the soul is truer heroism than that which leads a martyr cheerfully to the stake.

Faith is at its best when we have to wrestle with despair, not only of ourselves but of the Universe; when we strain our eyes and see nothing but blackness. In the Gorgias Socrates maintains, not only that it is always better to suffer injustice than to commit it, but that it is better to be punished for injustice than to escape, and better to die than to do wrong; and it is better not only because of the effect on others but for our own sake. We are naturally led to ask what support a righteous man unjustly condemned could find, supposing he were about to be executed, if he had no faith in personal immortality and knew that his martyrdom could not have the least effect for good. Imagine him, for example, shut up in a dungeon and about to be strangled in it and that not a single inquiry will be made about him--where will he look for help? what hope will compose him? He may say that in a few hours he will be asleep, and that nothing will then be of any consequence to him, but that thought surely will hardly content him. He may reflect that he at least prevents the evil which would be produced by his apostasy; and very frequently in life, when we abstain from doing wrong, we have to be satisfied with a negative result and with the simple absence (which n.o.body notices) of some direct mischief, although the abstention may cost more than positive well-doing. This too, however, is but cold consolation when the cord is brought and the grave is already dug.

It must be admitted that Reason cannot give any answer. Socrates, when his reasoning comes to an end, often permits himself to tell a story.

"My dialectic," he seems to say, "is of no further use; but here is a tale for you," and as he goes on with it we can see his satyr eyes gleam with an intensity which shows that he did not consider he was inventing a mere fable. That was the way in which he taught theology. Perhaps we may find that something less than logic and more than a dream may be of use to us. We may figure to ourselves that this universe of souls is the manifold expression of the One, and that in this expression there is a purpose which gives importance to all the means of which it avails itself. Apparent failure may therefore be a success, for the mind which has been developed into perfect virtue falls back into the One, having served (by its achievements) the end of its existence. The potential in the One has become actual, has become real, and the One is the richer thereby.

PATIENCE