I had not decided beforehand on the number of my chapters; it seems
that there will be thirteen. If these pages have readers to whom the
number thirteen is distressing, I beg of them at once to dismiss
this feeling by saying: “He who objects to sit down thirteen at
table, acknowledges by this that he does not believe in a supreme
intelligence, superior to his own, which governs the world.”
* * * * *
Science, religion, reason, and faith, these four words form the circle
in which all intellects move, now more than ever; on this all the world
is agreed, but all the world does not know what the greatest thinkers
have understood by these four words.
If we do not wish to deserve the title given to that collective
being, “the man in the street,” the best means of avoiding it is to
acknowledge openly that there are many unexplained problems facing us,
and that man exists in order to do his part in solving them. Humanity
is not composed of individuals who have been poured forth from a horn
of plenty, its destiny cannot therefore be to diffuse itself over the
surface of the earth without the means of knowing why it is there.
An ancient Greek said once that the gods were ready to sell all kinds
of good things to mortals but at a high price, at the cost of hard
work. If then we can only acquire the promised good things by the aid
of hard work, our thoughts carry us at once to science, and we ask
what can this science do, upon which we so pride ourselves in this
century, to explain the motive of our existence?
PHYSICS
In proportion as physical science studies this universe, so it
recognises more and more clearly that its most general phenomenon is
vibration, a periodical movement, which propagates itself in waves
succeeding each other at regular intervals.
We have all noticed the effect produced by drops of rain falling on
water which the absence of wind leaves perfectly tranquil. Each drop
forms a circle, but the causes of perturbation of an aqueous surface
are infinite; the dip of an insect, the leap of a fish, all ceaselessly
cause new circles, which follow each other, become wider, and finally
lose themselves in each other under our eyes; the water is apparently
a prey to shivering fits; this is a type of the vibrations whose
percussions are felt by the whole world. We are all, body and soul,
subject to the law of vibrations, each sense recognises its power by
means of sensations whose various kinds are apprehended by physical
science, by the calculation of the number of vibrations which, in
a given time, affect differently each of our organs of sensation.
Science records the number of vibrations which denote to our skin the
exact degree of the external temperature, she counts the millions of
vibrations which enable our eyes to see definite colours in the space
of a second, and the thousands of vibrations which enable our ears to
hear, in the same space of time, well defined sounds.
Thus physical science explains a general phenomenon which exerts its
influence, indubitably, on all men since there have been men on earth.
COMPARATIVE SCIENCES
When Bordas-Desmoulins, one of the first of our learned thinkers to
study comparative science, said: “Without mathematics we cannot plumb
the depths of philosophy; without philosophy we cannot penetrate
mathematics; without the two we can reach the foundation of nothing,”
did he see that this truth is so great as to be all embracing?
We see theologians walking steadily in the footsteps of those who
study comparative science with conviction. Father Gratry contends that
without it it is impossible to know God, man, and nature. Matter cannot
be conceived without spirit, nor spirit apart from matter. Whilst a
human being is in the embryonic stage, the soul, the principle of
life, is occupied in forming the body, destined to cover it during its
earthly existence. The moment arrives when this body is sufficiently
prepared to appear in the light of day; it contains two nervous
centres, the one supplying the vegetative life, the other the animal;
they are distinct though not separated, and the soul still continues
its work on the body, whether it sleeps or whether it wakes; but during
sleep, whilst man’s will is torpid, the soul supplies by rhythmic
movements of the nerves, the requisite matter for the reparation of the
losses sustained during the waking periods.
This intimate union of mind and matter has been rejected by certain
great philosophers. Descartes, for instance, completely separated the
immaterial substance possessed of the property of thinking from the
material body. Apparently we are of his way of thinking since we always
speak of our soul as of one thing and our body as of another; this is
to make two truths out of one and the same truth. But it is better to
look upon it as one truth as Aristotle did formerly. At a later date
certain doctors of the Church became of the same opinion, and at
present Christian theologians, who are also thinkers, hold the same
view.
* * * * *
A fresh science is now in process of development. It connects psychical
phenomena, such as sensation, thought, and action, with that which
can be weighed and measured. This science bears several more or less
characteristic names; in order to keep to generalities I will call
it the new psychology; it is taught in Germany, England, Paris, and
Russia, and perhaps elsewhere. There is only one way of dealing rightly
with so vast a science, it should be treated in its entirety; but as I
am anxious only to make known some of its more recent discoveries, I
will content myself by doing this briefly and with many omissions.
* * * * *
Kant had as his disciple the physiologist J. Müller, who applied the
method of his master to the study of sensations; and Helmholtz was
trained by J. Müller.
At one time, rather more than fifty years ago, the germs of life were
considered to be an exception on the terrestrial globe; but Helmholtz
discovered them even in rocky masses; and he proved to Liebig that
putrefaction was not a simple chemical reaction, but was due to the
action of a living organism. M. Pasteur was one of the first to profit
by this lesson.
Each definite science has its own special sphere in which it is
occupied only with itself; Helmholtz, a physician and musician, worked
entirely in connection with his own science only; without reference to
the conclusion that comparative science might draw from his labours,
he gave himself up to the study of the rapidity of the transmission
of nervous impressions, and dogmatically laid down his thesis in his
book _The Physiological Theory of Music_, which is perhaps the most
important of his works; at least it is the one of which I have made the
most use.
In nature we never hear simple sounds; nothing but a fusion of
noises reaches us. Helmholtz, however, succeeded in distinguishing a
fundamental sound in a mass of others; but it is quickly amalgamated
with two or three other sounds which are higher and feebler than
itself, as distant echoes. Helmholtz became convinced that music
is composed of single sounds accompanied by others of a decreasing
intensity, and he demonstrated by calculation that the number of
vibrations of these secondary sounds called harmonics are greater than
those of the fundamental sounds; and the differences of the grouping
of harmonic sounds determines the difference of timbre. In this way
Helmholtz discovered the cause of musical timbre, and was able to
explain the reason, hitherto unknown, of the sound of a flute differing
from that of a hautbois, or of a woman’s voice from that of a man’s.
There are two marvellous things in music; timbre and rhythm.
By rhythm is understood the number of a group of corresponding
vibrations recurring in a second. Rhythm may be defined as a recurring
movement, composed of unequal parts; the beat of a pulse, in which each
pulsation can be separately distinguished, will serve as an example.
Rhythm may be found everywhere, in poetry equally with music; and it is
this which imparts its chief charm. The beauty of the rhythmic prose
of the Hebrew Nābhī naturally attracted the multitude independently
of the subject matter of their words; and the rhythmic language of
Renan’s translation of the book of Job enables us perfectly to grasp
and appreciate the special charm incidental to rhythm.
Music is provocative of nervous effects, at times of great intensity;
beneficent to the greater number of persons, but to others quite the
reverse; in his infancy Mozart almost fainted on hearing the sound of
the trumpet.
Professor Wundt--who in his works deals with the human soul and that of
beasts--founded at Leipzig, in 1879, a laboratory with this inscription
over the entrance, “Institute for Experimental Psychology.” Wundt
said: “The result of my researches does not accord with the dualism
of Plato and Descartes; from experimental psychology the animism of
Aristotle (who connects psychology and biology) alone is evolved, as
the plausible metaphysical conclusion.”
A wonderful man this Aristotle! Whether we wish to analyse those
sensations which stir every fibre of our moral being, or to trace the
etymology of a word, or study the most modern of all our sciences, the
first to present himself to our mental vision is the sage of Stageira.
The first notes of an air by Mozart or of a sonata of Beethoven could
never have been produced by them by chance, they were willed by a power
which their composers considered outside themselves.
Inspiration--revelation--the same thing with all, in all time, and in
every place, they differ but in degree. It is possible that a musical
physician such as Helmholtz, added to a psychological physiologist as
Wundt was, and the two grafted on to a philosopher such as Aristotle,
might have been able to define, in a measure, the meaning of the words
Inspiration and Revelation.
It is with a knowledge of causes that we are able to say: “The
universal phenomenon of vibration is a fight for life, a fight between
_being_ and _not being_.”
CONCERNING SOME AUTHORS
We do not always occupy ourselves with science, and writers of a
poetical temperament like to write on the more serious subjects, at
the dictation of their heart and conscience only, especially when they
speak to themselves alone, with no thought of others.
Renan, in his _History of the People of Israel_, writes: “In presence
of the social problems of our days, and of the question: Has life
a premeditated end and object? What is it? Is it for the good of
humanity? Is it for the good of the individual?” The author replies:
“The universe, whose last word we never learn, attains its end by
an infinite variety of germs; if we are amongst those who deceive
themselves and rebel against authority, that may not be attended by
serious consequences ... let us be quiet; if we miss the mark others
will hit it; that which Jahvah wills, will come to pass.”
Understand if you can.
Those who wish to adore, always find an object of adoration; Renan
seeks his religion in the love of science and art; Comte thought to
find it in a life devoted to the happiness of humanity. Is it not of
these, and of men similar to them, that the most intellectual and
clearest sighted of judges, the mythological god Krishna, spoke when he
said, “All those who adore idols, adore me.”
Everywhere we encounter God and His power; either He triumphs over man,
or man vainly seeks to triumph over Him.
I have noticed that Renan’s work, _La Vie de Jésus_, to which
earnest-minded persons have a great objection, has been the means of
consoling more than one sincere soul. Is it to be reckoned a good or
an evil? Who shall take upon himself to say? Renan has certainly an
attraction for certain readers, they do not succeed in finding out
what he believes, but that is not to the point; generally he confines
himself to troubling the water, it becomes muddy; in muddy waters fish
are sometimes taken--we throw our lines--and--marvellous--each one
draws out his favourite fish.
Père Gratry has nothing in common with Renan, except that both are
poets. Plato having said that all but the wicked have their eternal
types in God, Gratry was authorised in the conclusion he drew in his
_Logic_ that “nothing in us, neither sentiment, nor imagination, nor
prayer, can go too far; all is more beautiful than that of which we
dream; all is higher than we can believe possible.”
This language has displeased certain moralists, and they have not
spared their censures on the theologian who used it. They have accused
him of dreaming whilst dealing with religion, and they would have
preferred that Gratry should occupy himself simply with literature.
“Above all,” they say, “how is it that Gratry has ventured to write
five long chapters on the probable site of immortality, and to inquire
where men will live when there is no longer death.”
Why should we not be permitted to ask ourselves these questions, and
to reply to them as we please? Are not theologians men like ourselves?
Especially that theologian who said: “The time when religion will have
acquired the characteristics of a science is yet far distant.”
RELIGION AND RELIGIONS
At an early period of our present era, various groups of men formed
themselves into assemblies, “Churches,” as they were called, all
teaching religion, and each from his own point of view. The study of
these instructions is full of important lessons. First is to be noticed
this fact that the truths on which all were agreed weighed more heavily
in the balance than those on which they disagreed. It is necessary to
disentangle true religion in itself from its surroundings. There is
one true religion, as there is one God, and one logic. The expressions
which are current with us of natural religion and revealed religion
should be lacking in our conversation, since they cause us to believe
that they denote two different religions.[136]
Opinions are sometimes attributed to the founders of organised
religions which really belong only to their disciples, or even to
theologians who live in an age much more recent than the historical
birth of the religion; if free discussion followed, suppositions and
doubts might often be dissipated, but in certain cases laws are imposed
and rules laid down which are considered infallible and not open to
discussion.
According to the early Christian Doctors, the Church is external and
visible, together with that which is within and invisible; the title,
“Soul of the Church,” was given to the invisible union of men amongst
themselves and with God; its dogma is, “All the righteous, none but the
righteous can have their share in the soul of the Church; many are in
the visible Church who do not belong to its soul; many are out of the
visible Church who form a portion of the soul of the Church.”[137]
In speaking thus the Fathers rested on an ancient tradition; it came
to them from Plato, whose words I have already quoted: “There is in
the soul a point, which is the root by which the Divinity suspends
his creatures to Himself; and this central point is the truth which
connects all men from one end of the world to the other.” This explains
the previous assertion of the Fathers.
But they did not content themselves with an assertion only; they
imposed on reason the burden of explanation and the duty of knowing
all. The first effort of our reason in natural sciences consists in
examining facts and endeavouring to find the laws. If one eternal law
did not rule over the whole of nature our labour would be in vain;
if this same law did not govern our reason we should be incapable of
finding those laws which govern the phenomena around us; and it is
clear that there could consequently be no physical science. But it is
not so apparent at first sight that if our reason were not governed by
an eternal law, there could be no moral sciences either.
Many observations have been made by men of attentive and profound
minds, but they have remained isolated for the most part. I will quote
one or two that I have collected here and there; it is well to pass
them in review, if only to assure one’s self that they are true.
“It is a great mistake to suppose that those who have read many books
know many things. Reading supplies the material for knowledge, but
reflection alone causes it to take root and grow.” Locke made this
observation. I add to it that for reflection to bear fruit it must be
joined to a good method. Père Gratry, who is a practical man, also
enforces this in a chapter in his _Logic_, in which he lays great
stress on the importance of reserving the morning hours for study and
reflection. It is a fine paragraph, and worthy of being reproduced.
“In the book of the Apocalypse we read, ‘And there was silence in
heaven for the space of half an hour.’ In the heaven of souls this is
rare. According to St Augustine the Eternal Wisdom does not cease to
speak to human creatures, and reason does not cease its activities
in us. We have only to listen, and to listen we must keep silence.
But amongst men, and especially amongst thinkers, who can keep still
silence? The generality of men, especially those who study, have not a
single half hour of silence in the day, men of learning either listen
to those who speak, or are speaking themselves; and when they find
themselves alone and silent, then they permit books to speak to them,
and they devour long discourses, with rapid glances, in a few minutes.”
Under these conditions all study requiring much reflection is
impossible.
Attention, Abstraction, Contradiction, Speech--only a few persons
appreciate the importance of these four words, and hardly any one
doubts that they know the part played in their lives by the things
which these words represent.
If we wish to know ourselves many subjects of all kinds must be studied
simultaneously; religion and religions; the opinions of the ancients
and of our contemporaries; men as they now are and as they were. Renan
has well characterised primitive men in attributing to them “a special
feeling for nature which enabled them, with wonderful delicacy and
accuracy, of which we have no conception, to perceive the qualities
which furnished names; and they saw innumerable things at once.”
The Hindoos, who were writers many centuries before our present era,
must have inherited from their primitive ancestors this special feeling
for nature, or they would not have composed those verses in the 129th
hymn: “Everything in the beginning was hidden in gloom--the germ which
was covered by the husk was brought forth by the power of heat. On
this germ rested love, the spring of the mind, yes, and the poets,
in meditating thereon, discovered in their souls the tie between the
things created and the things uncreated.--This spark, comes it from the
earth, piercing all, penetrating into all, or comes it from heaven?”
These passages have something modern in them; they might have been
written now when science seeks to fuse heaven and earth, which was not
done formerly.
The cord does not cease to vibrate. The persistence of this phenomenon
has different comments made on it. “It is the effect of heredity,” says
modern science; “it is a contemporaneous effect of the fall,” says
theology. Perhaps the one and the other make of the human race one
unique being which continues through the ages.
It is as though time had no existence for humanity. Space also
apparently does not count for much with the race. If the singular
facts are true which we hear, two persons separated by a great
distance have the same thoughts at the same instant; not the universal
thought naturally inherent in the human mind, but entirely personal.
Has sympathy--which is as essentially human as it is mysterious--a
relationship with electricity, which is a distinctly physical
phenomenon? On those who reject such a supposition should fail the
burden of finding another.
Each of us sees a landscape according to our sight; to the
short-sighted (and this is a normal condition) the landscape appears
simple; trees here, there houses and streets, men walking; but with
strong glasses, as is well known, it is possible to see many more
things. Again, the short-sighted can distinguish only the colour, veins
and serrated edge of a leaf, but if this were placed under a microscope
they would see a surface of green glittering with light, and strewn
with gold and diamonds.
If there are two ways of looking at a leaf, there are at least three of
looking at life; it can be seen from its pleasant or painful side, this
is to feel that we live only; then we can grasp it with regard to the
duties it imposes on us. This is a right point of view, but it shows
one side only; or we may consider it as science represents it, that is
its moral, rational, and religious aspect combined.
The more we observe and the more we reflect on what we observe, so
much the more do we exercise our faculty of understanding things; and
according as this faculty approaches or withdraws from the normal type,
so it will correspond either with the leaf seen by the naked eye or
with it as seen under the microscope.
OPPOSITION
There are two kinds of opposition. Very often we come upon a true
thought in a book which shocks us because for the moment we do not
recognise its truth. We also forget that all truths can be viewed at
various angles; or we do not understand a truth because it is expressed
in a novel way.
A manual treating of physics will best explain the reason of our
false impression. When a ray of light is transmitted from one medium
to another of different density, as from air to water, a change of
direction is impressed on the ray, making the straight line appear
broken; this change of direction is called _refraction_. Cardinal
Newman made a very true observation on this subject. “If an idea is
presented unexpectedly to us,” he said, “clothed in words to which
we are unaccustomed, it is sufficient to cause us to speak of it as
erroneous; this illusion is only a simple effect of the _refraction of
words_; that is to say, that in the mind of the writer of this truth
which startles us, the idea followed a straight line, but in our mind
it became broken.”
The second kind of opposition is of a different nature. It is amusing
to watch two individuals who are taking opposite sides in a heated
discussion concerning some philosopher. “What I tell you is correct;
A, who is a great scholar, says so.” “Yes, but I also know a great
scholar, B, and he says just the contrary.”
There seems to be a charm in controversy which few persons can resist;
they ignore what you say, and bluntly tell you that you are in the
wrong.
ABSTRACTION, INATTENTION
Not only is abstraction fatal to study, but it often plays us sorry
tricks apart from our occupations. Sometimes a bright idea comes into
our mind, but touching only the surface; if by inattention or idleness
we do not fix it firmly in our memory by clothing it in suitable words,
it is a hundred to one that it is not irrevocably lost to us. It is not
more possible to arrest its flight than to fasten a placard to the wall
without nails or gum.
It is difficult to note with exactness the amount of inattention which
so frequently accompanies the act of opening a serious book even with
the fixed intention of reading it.
I once surprised myself in a flagrant act of inattention. I was staying
with a friend, and took up Pascal’s _Pensées_, which I had not read
for some time. The edition was not the same as the one I had at home.
Whilst turning over the leaves I said to myself occasionally, “How
the style has changed--this is not clear--this observation is very
shallow”; and so I went on, astonished at not being able to admire
this celebrated work as I had formerly done. Suddenly I came upon this
phrase, “Monsieur Pascal confond tout cela.” What was my humiliation
to discover that in this edition “les Pensées de Pascal” were followed
by “les Pensées de Nicole.” I had passed from the one to the other
without noticing it. But what could have given rise to this impression
of Nicole’s? I turned back a few pages, and read: “A book has just
appeared which is perhaps the most useful that could be placed in the
hands of princes; it is a selection of the ‘Pensées de Pascal.’ I do
not say that all are equally good ... I find amongst them many well
polished stones and fit to adorn a great building; but the remainder
appeared to be mixed material, for which I can hardly suppose that M.
Pascal could find a use.... There are even certain sentiments which
hardly appear to be exact, and are like scattered thoughts thrown
out at random, which are written only that they may afterwards be
examined with more care and attention. Monsieur Pascal supposes that
ennui comes from that which we see in ourselves--from what we think of
ourselves. That assertion is perhaps more subtle than solid. Thousands
of persons experience ennui without thinking of themselves at all; they
feel weariness not from what they think, but because they do not think
enough.... M. Pascal confond tout cela.” Upon my word, I felt consoled
for my lapse into inattention; to this fault I owe my acquaintance with
M. Nicole’s acute remark: “Men do not feel weariness from what they
think, but because they do not think enough.”
SPEECH
When the members of the human family began to use the _clamor
concomitans_ which accompanied their occupations, as _clamor
significans_, these simple materials formed the roots which indicated
such and such acts, and produced verbal and nominatival bases composed
of predicative and demonstrative elements. During the course of ages
the first became conjugated and the second were declined. By means of
adding the successive acts together, and retaining them united in the
mind, or subtracting in several directions, our ancestors diversified
the meaning of all the primitive roots; they formed collective and
abstract nouns in their simplest form by combination. The process never
varied; thus the thought progressed from the first root to the last
concept. But the first word ever pronounced by a human creature was
a true proposition, and our last literary chef-d’œuvre consists of a
series of propositions.
Descartes’ brief phrase “Cogito, ergo sum” may be better rendered and
still more briefly by one word. The Greek word Logos, meaning word and
thought combined, had originally, as I have already remarked, the two
meanings of assembling and combining. “Cogito” = I think, which is the
short for co-agito = I assemble. The act of assembling presupposes
that of separating, seeing that it is impossible to combine two or more
things without at the same time separating them from other things. The
child who is taught the first rules of arithmetic adds and subtracts,
which can only be done by combining and separating. However little
intelligence he may have, his task does not present great difficulties
to him; and yet the most abstruse mathematical problem consists in
adding and subtracting, and the most astounding calculations of Newton,
and the most profound mathematical speculations of Kant, are but the
results of addition and subtraction, of combining and separating.
In the course of time all that fills our dictionaries and our
grammars was developed and achieved, and nothing remained for poets
and philosophers to do but to add to and deduce from the materials
which they had inherited or had themselves acquired as the result of
their own efforts; and however powerful the imagination of poets may
be, and however subtle the reasoning of philosophers, the materials
which both use to form their monuments are exactly the same, and
these are nothing but the words derived from roots and collected in
dictionaries. Most decidedly Michael Angelo was something more than a
mason or bricklayer, but yet the basilica of St Peter’s is made only
of stones and bricks and a little cement, which, when brought down to
its final constituents, is nothing but pulverised stone. Most decidedly
one of Shakespeare’s plays is possessed of other qualities than a
mere assemblage of the letters of the alphabet arranged in a certain
order, but the materials of which the plays are formed were drawn from
the inexhaustible supply of words accumulated during thousands of
years, and which contain no single particle of gold or silver that is
not found in the thousand roots of our language and the 121 concepts
conceived in our minds.
Amongst the men who know how to think, many are astonished that the
so-called civilised portion of humanity should have advanced so little,
there is nothing astonishing in this; let us consider the point, and
remember that we are only now on the morrow of the day when we were
still immature humanity, and in which the human character, with its
germs of language and of thought, only began to be visible in us. The
universe obeys the unchangeable law which we name Divine Providence;
an irresistible law which compels matter to make certain predetermined
movements, and the mind to tend towards perfection; man knows that he
is morally free, and not necessarily subject to animal impulses.
Man’s moral liberty being conceded, he uses it as he will; at times he
seeks and finds opportunities for resisting the moral law; man, even
the nominal Christian, stifles the spirit’s higher voice and compels
himself to listen to the lower voice of the flesh. Pascal said plainly:
“According to the carnal Christian the Messiah has come to dispense us
from the necessity of loving God by providing sacraments which act as
charms apart from our co-operation,” and our hatred and our injustice
continue--under cover of a scrupulous observance of rites--to infect
the world as well as ourselves. He spoke truly, and saw clearly, who
first said: “Every being tends to preserve its existence.” With regard
to the man of whom Pascal speaks, this means to follow incessantly his
evil practices. But, happily, there exist other men who feel that,
besides oxygen and pleasure, they must also absorb science and true
prosperity for their well-being.
We read in the book of Ecclesiasticus: “In every good work trust thine
own soul” (Ecclesiasticus xxxii. 23). Yes, let us believe in our own
soul, which is the true Ego, and it will bid us live. I am far from
sharing Pascal’s opinion, which is, that the Ego always merits contempt.
Science, after having noted and counted the exact number of vibrations
of all kinds which from all parts affect us, at a certain point
ceases to have the power to calculate further, and recognises that
beyond and above all vibrations there exists that which can neither
be named nor counted. In my opinion that which is the best part of
science is that it knows its limitations; with some people it is a well
known experience that when they have once grasped the fact that their
inability rightly to comprehend something they desire to know arises
from an immutable decree, they become at once imbued with a profound
quiescence, closely allied to certainty.
After which there is but one step left to human reason, to forsake that
reason which is but temporary, and to lose oneself in that which has
neither beginning nor end. This last step is an act of faith. Someone,
who does not think sufficiently, calls this a leap in the dark, but for
him who accomplishes it this darkness becomes transparent as crystal.
“Yes,” these persons exclaim, “and such was Kant’s last act.” It would
be more correct to say Kant ended as he began, by an act of reason,
since he drew the logical conclusion of what he had learnt.
RÉSUMÉ
The evolution of the human race will not become clear to us unless we
remember that a time existed when man was without language and without
reason.
During this obscure period which we name the dawn of humanity, the
material wants and their satisfaction, comprised the whole being of
man, as it does that of the animal. With man commenced the line of
individuals leading to the higher order of social life. It is possible
that the feeling of being one of many was one of the first to awake
in man, since it was owing to the support afforded him by his fellows
that he obtained what he needed; he was also conscious of family ties,
this emotion and sentiment was the cradle of all his best qualities;
afterwards would come the attractions of race; this feeling might
so dominate the individual as to cause him to forget that he was a
separate entity; then by a concurrence of circumstances difficult to
define, national feelings were developed from the salient features of
the race, and national languages separated themselves from the central
source. The knowledge of being a portion of humanity arrived at a much
later period; he is still at this present time a part of a feeble few,
and he can be summed up in the well-known sentence, of which the first
words are, “Homo sum.” If we consider the meaning of this classical
quotation it is very striking.
We often mention the pre-historic times, but we seldom ask ourselves at
what date history can have begun. With the first heap of stones piled
up by the men of a certain tribe at the burial of a venerated chief,
history commenced; this heap became the point at which the past touched
the future, a visible link in the interminable chain of human thought.
At the origin of all this mental activity we find an inspiration--a
poetical fiat. It was a historical moment--no other similar to it has
ever been, before or since--when the first group of human creatures
acclaimed with inarticulate cries their first cavern, or the first den
dug by themselves. At a much later date when man, looking up at the
vault of heaven--his curiosity aroused--wished to know what were the
brilliant things he saw moving high above him, was he not impelled by
the feeling of the presence of a Being hitherto unknown, and to whom
he paid unconscious homage by giving Him a name? If the feeling had
not made itself felt simultaneously with the awakened attention caused
by the appearance of the sky, the electric spark would not have burst
forth.
At a later date still to what can we attribute the union of pure
thought and beating hearts but to the first definite perception of the
Divine breath, and the conception of an invisible yet longed for God,
whose name descended from generation to generation down to ourselves?
Aristotle, St Augustine, St Thomas Aquinas, Kant, and Max Müller, have
all described this ascension of the reason from the first thought which
contained the germ of the idea, up to God Himself.
* * * * *
We thus arrive at a high level though starting from low ground; we
should be higher still, but that we are retarded equally by lack of
speech and of thought. As long as we fondly imagine that in possessing
a word we are also masters of the thought attached to it, and that
to penetrate to the heart of a thought is nothing but a linguistic
exercise, or an intellectual gymnastic feat, we shall not use the sole
method with which we are supplied, of growing morally, rationally, and
religiously.
We form ideas of many things, but we know them only partially and
disjointedly; sciences which we have learnt possess unity, since with
grammar is connected synthesis, and with mathematics, algebra; (this
word algebra is of Arab origin, “al djabroun,” and means the reduction
of dislocated members), is it possible that we--the creators of these
sciences--should be destined to wander around and away from unity, and
never attain it?
* * * * *
It is time to end this study; I suspect that I am not the only one
of this opinion. It is possible that amongst my readers--if I have
any--some may already have found means of shortening it for themselves;
they will perhaps turn over the pages, read a few, and say, “How
tedious the old pedant is,” then shut the book and not open it again.
This would be a pity in my opinion; they should read a little more.
No philosophical work can be written without the words _perceive_
and _conceive_ appearing very frequently in it. The Latin language
possesses the word “capio,” which means to seize something with the
hand; only convincing facts can lead us to believe that these terms
to _perceive_ and to _conceive_ are derived from _capio_; thus the
word expressing the well-known physical movement of taking something
with the hand was the origin of the two words _percept_ and _concept_,
without which no philosophical idea could take shape or be developed in
us.
The space which separates the word _capio_ from _percept_ and _concept_
includes neither more nor less than the entire evolution of man; that
is, our own history.
That of which we think so little is in reality the indelible sign
impressed once for all on man, that which alone distinguishes him
from the animals, and which may yet help to form in man an excellence
hitherto unknown to us; this distinguishing mark is thought and speech.
We are men--but has the type of the “genus homo” been realised? Is it
impossible?
It has been undoubtedly proved that man is free in certain directions,
and not in others; happily he is not free not to be a man.
THE END
FOOTNOTES:
[136] There is _one_ in the way in which St Paul speaks: “There is one
body, and one spirit, even as also ye were called in one hope of your
calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all,
who is over all, and through all, and in all.”
[137] As Savonarola said: “Yes, from the Church militant, but not from
the Church in Heaven,” in answer to his excommunication.
* * * * *
PRINTED BY
TURNBULL AND SPEARS,
EDINBURGH
* * * * *
Transcriber’s Notes:
Footnotes have been moved to the end of each chapter and relabeled
consecutively through the document.
Punctuation has been made consistent.
Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in
the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors have
been corrected.
The following changes were made:
p. 23: Llamas changed to Lamas (the Lamas of)
p. 180: Lines below S and s have been standardized to acute accents
(Śraddhâ, śraddadhau, śraddhitam)