1. Pleasant sensation was necessary to lead man to perfection, and he can
only be perfect when he feels comfortable.
2. The nature of a mortal being makes unpleasant feeling unavoidable.
Evil does not shut man out from the best world, and the worldly-wise find
their perfection therein.
3. Thus pain and pleasure are necessary. It seems harder, but it is no
less true.
4. Every pain, as every pleasure, grows according to its nature, and
would continue to do so.
5. Every pain and every pleasure of a mixed being tend to their own
dissolution.
S 25.--Explanation.
It is a well-known law of the connection between ideas that every
sensation, of whatever kind, immediately seizes another of its kind, and
enlarges itself through this addition. The larger and more manifold it
becomes, so much the more does it awaken similar sensations in all
directions through the organs of thought, until, by degrees, it becomes
universally predominant, and occupies the whole soul. Consequently,
every sensation grows through itself; every present condition of the
feeling power contains the root of a feeling to follow, similar, but more
intense. This is evident. Now, every mental sensation is, as we know,
allied to a similar animal one; in other words, each one is connected
with more or less movement of the nerves, which take a direction
according to the measure of their strength and extension. Thus, as
mental sensations grow, must the movements in the nervous system increase
also. This is no less clear. Now, pathology teaches us that a nerve
never suffers alone: and to say, "Here is a superfluity of strength," is
as much as to say, "There is want of strength." Thus, every nervous
movement grows through itself. Now, we have remarked that the movements
of the nervous system react upon the mind, and strengthen the mental
sensations;
[Why, how one weeps when one's too weary!
Tears, tears! why we weep,
'Tis worth inquiry:--that we've shamed a life,
Or lost a love, or missed a world, perhaps?
By no means. Simply, that we've walked too far,
Or talked too much, or felt the wind in the east, etc.
--Aurora Leigh.]
vice versa, the strengthened sensation of the mind increase and
strengthen the motions of the nerves. Thus we have a circle, in which
sensation must always increase, and nervous movements every moment become
more powerful and universal.
Now, we know that the movements of the bodily frame which cause the
feeling of pain run counter to the harmony by which it would exist in
well-being; that is, that they are diseased. But disease cannot grow
unceasingly, therefore they end in the total destruction of the frame.
In relation to pain, it is thus proved that it aims at the death of the
subject.
But, the motions of the nerves under pleasant sensations being so
harmonious to the continuance of the machinery that the condition of mind
which constitutes pleasure is that of the greatest bodily well-being,
should not rather, then, pleasant sensation prolong the bloom of the body
eternally? This inference is too hasty. In a certain stage of
moderation, these nervous motions are wholesome, and really a sign of
health. But if they outgrow this stage, they may be the highest
activity, the highest momentary perfection; but, thus, they are excess of
health, no longer health itself.
We only call that condition of the natural motions health in which the
root of similar ones for the future lies, viz., those which confirm the
perfection of succeeding motions; thus, the destiny of continuance is
essentially contained in the idea of health. Thus, for example, the body
of the most debilitated profligate attains to its greatest harmony at the
moment of excess; but it is only momentarily, and a so much deeper
abatement shows sufficiently that overstraining was not health.
Therefore one may justly accept that an overstrained vigor of physical
action hastens death as much as the greatest disorder or the worst
illness. Both pain and pleasure draw us towards an unavoidable death,
unless something be present which limits their advance.
S 26.--Excellence of this Abatement.
It is just this (the limit to their growth) which the abatement of the
animal nature causes. It must be no other than this limitation of our
fragile frame (that appeared to have lent to our opponents so strong a
proof against its perfection) which ameliorates all the evil consequences
that the mechanism otherwise makes unavoidable. It is exactly this
sinking, this lassitude of the organs, over which tinkers complain so
much, that prevents our own strength destroying us in a short time; that
does not permit our positions to be always increasing towards our
destruction. This limitation shows each passion the period of its
growth, its height and decline (if indeed the passion does not die out in
a total relaxation of the body), which leaves the excited spirits time to
resume their harmony, and the organs to recover. Hence, the highest
pitch of rapture, of fear, and of anger, are the same as weariness,
weakness, or fainting. But sleep vouchsafes more, for as Shakspeare
says:--
Sleep, that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's sweet restorer.
--Macbeth.
During sleep, the vital forces restore themselves to that healthy
balance which the continuance of our being so much requires; all the
cramped ideas and feelings, the overstrained actions which have
troubled us through the day, are solved in the entire relaxation of the
sensorium; the harmony of the motions of the mind are resumed, and the
newly-awakened man greets the coming day more calmly.
In relation to the arrangement of the whole, also, we cannot sufficiently
admire the worth and importance of this limitation. The arrangement
necessarily causes many, who should be no less happy, to be sacrificed to
the general order and to bear the lot of oppression. Likewise, many,
whom we perhaps unjustly envy, must expend their mental and bodily
strength in restless exertion, so that the repose of the whole be
preserved. The same with sick persons, the same with unreasoning
animals. Sleep seals the eye of care, takes from the prince and
statesman the heavy weight of governing; pours new force into the veins
of the sick man, and rest into his harassed soul; the daylaborer no
longer hears the voice of the oppressor, and the ill-used beast escapes
from the tyranny of man. Sleep buries all cares and troubles, balances
everything, equips every one with new-born powers to bear the joys and
sorrows of the next day.
S 27.--Severing of the Connection.
At length arrived at the point in the circle where the mind has fulfilled
the aim of its being, an internal, unaccountable mechanism has, at the
same time, made the body incapable of being any longer its instrument.
All care for the well-being of the bodily state seems to reach but to
this epoch. It appears to me that, in the formation of our physical
nature, wisdom has shown such parsimony, that notwithstanding constant
compensations, decline must always keep in the ascendancy, so that
freedom misuses the mechanism, and death is germinated in life as out of
its seed. Matter dissolves again into its last elements, which travel
through the kingdom of nature in other forms and relations, to serve
other purposes. The mind continues to practise its thinking powers in
other circles, and to observe the universe from other sides.
We may truly say that it has not by any means exhausted this actual
sphere, that it might have left this sphere itself more perfect; but do
we know that this sphere is lost to it? We lay many a book aside which
we do not understand, but perhaps in a few years we shall understand it
better.