A QUESTION
OF BELIEF
DAVID: (Picks up a
book from his friend's desk) Good God, I didn't know that you were into
astrology! How long have you been
studying it?
KELVIN:
Only a few weeks, I'm afraid. Although, with certain reservations, I've been fairly interested in
the subject for some time now. In
fact, I borrowed that Modern Textbook of Astrology from the local
library. It's a most informative and
charming work by Margaret E. Hone.
DAVID: It certainly
looks detailed. In fact, much more so
than the few books that I
have bothered to read on astrology.
However, I must confess that I wasn't convinced. There is something about astrology and
astrological supposition which leaves me cold.
Perhaps I have other superstitions?
KELVIN:
What makes you so sure that it's a superstition?
DAVID: Well, it isn't
exactly a science, is it? There seem to
be so many vague conjectures involved with the interpretation of planets and
signs that one is left with scarcely anything concrete to stand on. Why, for instance, should one believe that a
planet called Mars necessarily has any direct connection with war? Or that a planet called Mercury should
likewise have any direct connection with communication? If the ancients chose to honour the
then-known planets with such fancy names, that by no means proves that those
planets actually possessed the qualities or attributes usually associated with
them! How can a mass of inert matter
possibly have anything to do with love or war or communication or
whatever? One might just as well re-name
the planets and give them quite different attributes, as believe in the
authenticity of the traditional ones!
What difference would it make to Mars, for example, if I were to rename
it Gold, and thereupon declare that, henceforth, all those people born under
its influence would have a marked predilection for collecting precious things
and/or making money? Doubtless the
planet would continue on its way as before, but astrologers would be compelled
to alter their predictions, assumptions, and solicitations in accordance with
the symbolic attributes of its new name.
Now if I were to extend this re-naming to all the other known planets as
well, then astrologers would be obliged to abandon virtually everything they
had formerly believed about them. They
would be forced into adopting an entirely new approach to their
interpretations.
KELVIN:
Yes, your argument sounds quite feasible if one merely assumes that the planets
only received their names in a rather arbitrary manner, i.e. that an ancient
astronomer thought he might as well call the second planet from the sun Venus
as anything else, or that he might as well call the fourth planet from it Mars
as anything else, and then add the respective attributes of the Roman gods to
them. But it is quite inadequate if one
also considers the possibility that the planets only received their names after the
general tendencies of their respective influences, or 'principles', had been
taken into account. In other words, it
seems more than likely that people born under the sway of a given pattern of
planetary influence were later found to possess certain basic character-traits
which somehow corresponded to this periodically recurrent pattern and which, on
deeper investigation, could be assumed to derive from one planet in particular
- namely, the one most prominent at the time of their birth. Hence a name and attendant quality were then
given to that planet which accorded with what was believed to be its general
influence, and some of the people subsequently born under a similar pattern
were later analysed in the same light, in order that budding astrologers and
established astronomers might confirm the reappearance of certain basic
character traits peculiar to them.
DAVID: What makes you
so confident that the ancients actually bothered to study the behaviour of such
people or, for that matter, to name the planets only after they had investigated
what they believed to be their respective influences?
KELVIN: The
realization, I suppose, that one shouldn't underestimate the ability and
ingenuity of the ancients! Admittedly,
one cannot be absolutely certain, in the absence of proper historical data,
that this was what actually transpired.
But where such men as Thales, Pythagoras,
Anaxagoras, Plato, Aristotle, Hippocrates, Hipparchus,
Ptolemy, Plotinus, Porphyry, and Maternus
are concerned, one can be quite certain that an arbitrary or superficial
appreciation of the heavenly bodies wouldn't have satisfied them!
DAVID: So you evidently
believe that astrology isn't just a superstition but something that, although
officially not a science, nevertheless aspires to the truth?
KELVIN:
Yes, I would certainly say that there is some truth in it. As you know, I'm not the easiest person to
convince where religious, extraterrestrial, or occult phenomena are concerned,
and I certainly make no claims to a special esoteric knowledge of such
matters! But even though I may regard
astrological investigations, contentions, and suppositions with a critical eye
and a sceptical detachment, I'm by no means dogmatically opposed to them! Quite the contrary, it appears more than
evident to me that many of those who are such are
either partisan specialists too busy furthering their own cause to have much
sympathy or time to spare on other causes or, alternatively, ordinary people
who desire to have their ignorance of astrological practice regarded as
profundity, and who are only too ready, in consequence, to participate in or
listen to the first argument against it which vindicates their ignorance and
bolsters their self-esteem. But a
dogmatic denial founded on either partisanship or ignorance is hardly
sufficient to convince one of its legitimacy and validity - not, anyway, from
an astrologer's viewpoint! Ultimately,
it is only the astrologers themselves whom one can take seriously, just as,
with regard to medical science, it's only the doctors one can take
seriously. It would be a fine thing if
the validity of medical practice depended upon the judgements of painters,
clerks, builders, or bus drivers, wouldn't it?
DAVID: Maybe, but I
have a distinct recollection of disappointment in mind concerning a time when I
once paid a visit to an astrologer and was duly informed that certain 'events'
would occur to me in the near future, events concerning money, companionship,
business, health, travel, et cetera, of an optimistic, not to say extremely
promising, nature, which, not surprisingly, I was only too pleased to hear
about. But do you know what
happened? Nothing! None of them came true. My position in life remained almost exactly
the same as before and, except for the appearance of my wife just over a year
ago, it still hasn't changed very much to this day. So I have a fairly good reason, I would
think, to be highly sceptical about the validity and authenticity of astrology!
KELVIN:
Strange to say, the same kind of thing happened to me too. But even so, it doesn't necessarily mean that
astrology is a hoax. For all we know, it
could simply mean that one was hoaxed by a quack astrologer, just as one can be
hoaxed by a quack doctor. There are
doubtless a fair number of such people in the world, especially now that -
partly on account of the decline of belief in Christianity - spiritualism, mysticism,
occultism, and other kindred subjects are on the rise, and the metaphysical
need or capacity in man is consequently being channelled into various esoteric,
tangential, and traditionally 'unapproved' spheres. But the word 'quack' is, in itself, somewhat
misleading. For it could just as easily
have been the case that the astrologers whom we visited were relatively
inexperienced, that they hadn't acquired a thorough knowledge or grasp of their
craft, and consequently made some serious mistakes in their calculations. After all, even a highly-trained and
long-experienced astrologer can occasionally make a mistake with regard to his
computation, charting, aspects, progressions, interpretations, and the like,
considering that no-one is infallible.
Of course, a conscientious astrologer probably realizes that the
reputation of his somewhat maligned profession is further jeopardized if he
makes a mistake. But, there again, we
lay people have no reason to believe that astrology is a hoax if, in fact, he does
make a mistake. Let us rather assume, to
begin with, that he was simply at fault, and then try our luck elsewhere. Besides, I'm only too well-aware, at present,
of how easy it would be for a relatively inexperienced person to make
miscalculations, and I dare say that if you bothered to investigate the
astrological textbook you're still holding in your hands, you, too, would be
quite amazed by the number of complex technical considerations which have to be
taken into account. Even with a D.F.Astrol.S., the official diploma of astrology, one is
little more than a beginner if one hasn't also had regular professional
experience in the matter.
DAVID: Yes, there are
certainly a lot more mathematical, geometrical, geographical, and planetary
things to consider than I had previously imagined. The few books I have read on the subject
were much more popular and correspondingly much less technical than this! They merely gave one the general theoretical
outlines of each sign and planet, and then drew-up a number of fairly commonplace
remarks as to the supposedly fundamental nature of Librans, Taureans,
Scorpios, Virgos, Capricorns, and so on, without bothering to inform one
exactly why it was believed that
these signs signified particular inclinations.
Fortunately, I can never be convinced of anything unless I'm given ample
proof of the reasons behind such-and-such a conclusion, and, as it happened,
these books required much too much faith or trust for my liking. By the way, what is your sign?
KELVIN:
Libra, I am afraid. Like Oscar Wilde,
Arthur Rimbaud, and Friedrich Nietzsche.
DAVID: Good God! Don't tell me you actually make a point of
knowing the signs of famous writers?
KELVIN: I'm
afraid so!
DAVID: (Going across
to Kelvin's bookcase) Then what was James Joyce?
KELVIN:
Aquarius, like Stendhal and Schopenhauer - men of an intensely independent,
original, perverse, and freedom-loving turn of mind!
DAVID: And Emerson?
KELVIN:
Gemini, like de Sade.
DAVID: And Camus?
KELVIN:
Scorpio, like Gide, his early idol.
DAVID:
KELVIN:
Cancer.
DAVID: Baudelaire?
KELVIN:
Aries.
DAVID: Really? That is interesting! And what about Carlyle?
KELVIN:
Sagittarius, the expansive ones. Like
Jim Morrison, author of The Lords and The New Creatures and lead
singer with The Doors.
DAVID: I see. And do they each correspond to their
respective signs as, apparently, they ought to?
KELVIN:
Yes, by and large, although with some reservations. I don't know the exact times of their
respective births, so it would be quite impossible for me to give you an
accurate interpretation, even if I were qualified to do so, which, as you're
probably aware, I'm most certainly not!
But, taking their respective signs into account, and using such
knowledge of astrology as I have acquired
these past few weeks, I would certainly say that each of them corresponds to
the general attributes of his sign as much as one might expect him to do. For instance, I said of Joyce, Stendhal, and
Schopenhauer that they were all Aquarians, didn't I?
DAVID: You did.
KELVIN:
Well, without going into details which you won't understand, they are of the
'Air Triplicity', i.e. Gemini, Libra, and Aquarius,
and may thus be regarded as belonging to the
predominantly intellectual and communicative group. In addition, they are of the 'Fixed Quadruplicity', i.e. Taurus, Scorpio, Leo, and Aquarius,
and may accordingly be regarded as belonging to the
group most resistant to change. Lastly,
Aquarius is a 'Positive Sign', as are all the alternate signs from Aries to
Pisces, and is thus associated with self-expression rather than
self-repression. Now, without
complicating the issue any further, one can see that Joyce, particularly in
light of his two major works Ulysses and Finnegans Wake, was of an intensely independent,
original, perverse, and freedom-loving turn of mind - four qualities, remember,
which are inextricably bound-up with the psychology of the typical
Aquarian. As indicated by the 'Air Triplicity', he was predominantly intellectual and
communicative rather than, for example, spiritual, emotional, dreamy, or regal,
as can easily be verified by the general trend of his work. Furthermore, the 'Fixed Quadruplicity'
indicates a tendency to fixity or resistance to change which, to take a single
example, we find exemplified by the length of time he spent writing his two
major books. Then, of course, the
self-expression, particularly with regard to Ulysses, is only too
evident, as is the rebelliousness - another strong Aquarian trait which, in
Joyce's case, focuses much of its attention on both the Catholic Church and the
social climate of
DAVID: Schopenhauer the
greatest philosopher of the modern age!
Are you kidding? What about
Nietzsche, Bradley, James, Bergson, Russell, Sartre,
or Joad?
Admittedly, he may be greater than most of the established philosophers
of this or the previous century. But to
imply that he is greater than Nietzsche ...
KELVIN: I
am quite convinced of it actually, and would be prepared to go beyond
implication to a categorical assertion of the fact. Of course, you are well aware that some of
Nietzsche's work greatly appeals to me, and I wouldn't wish to underrate his
considerable influence on contemporary thought.
But the fact nevertheless remains that, by strictly philosophical standards,
much of his work leaves something to be desired, particularly when analysed
from a detached, deliberative, and scientific point-of-view! No, anyone who has studied The World
as Will and Representation in its entirety will be aware of
something which should settle the issue of the relative merits of these two
thinkers once and for all!
DAVID: Oh, and what,
precisely, is that?
KELVIN: A
knowledge of the fact that if one is to arrive at a fairly stable, logical,
fair, and accurate conclusion about anything, the Will should be kept in the background
as much as possible, so that the intellect, freed from the distorting
intrusions of passions, emotions, prejudices, feelings, et cetera, may range
unhindered over the subject to hand, and thus arrive at orderly and objective
findings. If the Will intrudes overmuch,
then the intellect may well be proportionately coloured or distorted, and an
accurate or fair judgement of the issue at stake will be virtually impossible
to achieve. One need only think of how one's
judgement is impaired by the emotion of anger, to get a fair understanding of
what I'm driving at! In this rather
extreme case, the emotion is so violent that one is rightly accused of 'losing
one's head' or of being 'blinded by rage'.
Thus for a purely objective, analytical, philosophical appreciation of
things, the Will must be subdued as much as possible.
DAVID: I see. But what connection, exactly, does this have
with Nietzsche?
KELVIN: The very important connection that in Nietzsche's works
there are far too many italicized words and exclamation marks in evidence to
suggest that he wrote from a purely objective, will-less point of view. One cannot sprinkle exclamation marks all
over the text if the emotions are not deeply involved. And if they are deeply involved - as would
certainly seem to be so in Nietzsche's case - then one cannot expect the
intellect to remain unclouded by them, to escape the relative distortion which
they'll engender. Hence exaggeration
will take the place of a cool appraisal of whatever is being discussed, and the
true philosophical temper of detached objectivity will be rendered virtually
impossible. We can learn all this from
ordinary day-to-day experience. But if
we are slow at learning from such experience, we must turn to Schopenhauer, the
true philosopher, and see for ourselves that the man who formulated The World
as Will and Representation, the Parerga and Paralipomena, and other such outstandingly objective
works, usually knew how to keep his Will in place and to exploit his Aquarian
temperament to extraordinary effect. By
comparison, Nietzsche was only partly a philosopher. For, in addition to being a musicologist,
philologist, social critic, and autobiographer, he
was also a literary artist, and a rather fine one
too! Few writers before him have stirred-up
the passions to such a high degree or given rise to so much controversy, and,
in the final analysis, it is always the artist, the man of passion, who pays
tribute to the life-force by bringing a higher degree of life to others,
regardless of whether or not he is to some extent sacrificing the truth.
DAVID: But even if what
you say happens to be true, you must remember that Schopenhauer was largely
pessimistic, whereas Nietzsche was mainly optimistic and therefore much more
acceptable to the public. In many
respects, Schopenhauer was a classical crank, the last and most reactionary of
the objective philosophers, and thus the natural enemy of that passionate
subjectivity which Nietzsche was to pioneer as perhaps the first of the truly
modern philosophers. In
fact, less a philosopher than an expressionistic anti-philosopher.
KELVIN: Ah,
but from what I was able to gather from a recent conversation with you, it's
only the 'Penguin Classics' edition of his work, published under the title Essays and
Aphorisms, that you've read, the selection taken from the second volume of
the Parerga and Paralipomena,
in consequence of which you lack a comprehensive knowledge of his oeuvre. The idea of Schopenhauer the pessimist -
partly promulgated by Nietzsche in his lopsided defiance of everything he had
formerly believed in - is much too prevalent these days and tends to distort
his true image. In actual fact, only a
tiny percentage of Schopenhauer's entire output, probably no more than a tenth
of it, is directly connected with pessimism. For by far the greater part of it deals with
purely objective considerations of such subjects as genius, madness, idealism,
the senses, the intellect, metaphysics, art, music, poetry, history, heredity,
love, religion, the thing-in-itself, Kant's philosophy, politics, and so
on. So the actual part played by
pessimism - a by-no-means illegitimate or unreasonable part - is scarcely
enough, in my opinion, to secure him the eternal epithet of 'pessimist'. By contrast, Nietzsche's so-called optimism
was really a self-preservative measure, a violent reaction against his former
self, against a nihilistic, pessimistic, pathological, neurotic, and deeply
painful state-of-mind which would probably have driven him to suicide had he
not experienced a 'conversion' - analogous to Harry Haller's conversion in Hesse's great Nietzschean novel Steppenwolf
- and thereupon decided to adopt an amor fati, a love-of-fate approach to life and, accordingly,
turn his back on everything, including his youthful admiration of Schopenhauer
and Wagner, which had constituted so deep a part of his former self. Unfortunately for him, however, he took his
love of fate too far. For his admirable
dictum that Man is something that should be overcome acquired a perverse twist
and eventually became his personal fate, in that he literally 'overcame'
himself by suffering an irreversible breakdown which remained his fate for the
last eleven years of his life.
DAVID: Yes, in
consequence, apparently, of a syphilitic infection he contracted as a youth!
KELVIN:
That may well be, though I haven't found any mention of it in his many
autobiographical writings, including his letters, and am consequently more
inclined to believe that he simply over-worked, since he not only wrote Twilight of
the Idols, The Anti-Christ, The Wagner Case, Ecce Homo, Nietzsche contra
Wagner, Dithyrambs and Dionysus, and numerous letters to friends,
publishers, editors, et cetera, in 1888, but, to cap it all, he wrote by far
the greater part of what has subsequently become that immense tome The Will
to Power as well! No
wonder he suffered an irreversible breakdown in January 1889!
DAVID: Yes, but when
you consider the vast amount of work he got through in the space of a single
decade, and then compare that to the comparatively small amount of work done by
Schopenhauer over the best part of five decades, it's
only too obvious that Nietzsche was by far the more creative, and thus highly
gifted, of the two.
KELVIN:
Perhaps. Though it would probably have
been better for both him and us if he had written less and deliberated
more! But that wouldn't have been in
accordance, seemingly, with his fiery temperament! Still, one oughtn't to allow quantity to take
over from quality. If today he is more
popular than Schopenhauer, it is primarily because his writings are easier to
understand, because much of his work appeals to the emotions more than to
reason, because of the 'mythic value' of his tragic life and collapse, and
because of the many strong polemical points he made against his great
predecessor. As I said earlier,
Nietzsche was more of an artist, more spontaneous and excitable, and certainly
less academic than a majority of theoretical writers either before or since. So it's not particularly surprising to me
that he should command a wider public than Schopenhauer. But that doesn't make him a greater
philosopher! On the contrary, one can
see why the greatest philosophers are less well-known and appreciated when one
bears in mind the complexity of their work.
Yet Schopenhauer's greatness also lay in the fact that he didn't allow
his work to become too complex but reduced the number of
technical expressions to a bare minimum, even if, by way of compensation, he
inserted far more Greek and Latin citations than virtually any other modern
philosopher, with the possible exception of Heidegger. But there is a considerable difference
between writing authentic philosophy, which necessarily requires and engenders
a certain level of complexity, and juggling with words in a manner that
suggests profundity, but is really designed to compensate for a lack of
it. If a man has something worthwhile to
say, he won't endeavour to hide it behind a mass of complications and
contradictions, like some contemporary philosophers, but will communicate it to
his readers in the most appropriate manner possible. I need hardly remind you that Schopenhauer
had no sympathy for the complicators, or obscure
ones, and one can be sure that there are a fair number of twentieth-century
philosophers who would have failed to please him on that account! Indeed, I would give anything to know what
his opinion of the works of certain more recent philosophers would be if, by
some magical decree, we could enable him to return from the grave and investigate
some of the philosophical developments which have taken place in the meantime.
DAVID: It's just as
well, in my humble opinion, that he can't come
back. For he would definitely be
annoyed, if not affronted, by several of the remarks Nietzsche made against
him, especially those concerning his pessimism.
KELVIN:
Yes, I dare say he would. Although I am
also aware that some of Nietzsche's criticisms were fully justified! However, I think Schopenhauer would be more
puzzled by The Anti-Christ and similar writings than by
anything else, particularly in view of the fact that Nietzsche had studied The
World as Will and Representation and therefore ought to have known about
that very fine essay entitled 'Man's need of Metaphysics', with its
acknowledgement of the metaphysics of the people.
DAVID: I'm afraid I
don't quite follow you there.
KELVIN:
Well, to cut a long explanation short, let us just say that metaphysics-proper
has to do with philosophy, metaphysics of the people, by contrast, with
religion. Thus there is a metaphysics for the Few and a metaphysics for the Many.
DAVID: Agreed!
KELVIN:
Well, what was a philosopher doing meddling with the metaphysics of the people,
i.e. with Christianity, when, by rights, he should have accepted the legitimacy
of such a metaphysics and consequently turned his
attention back to philosophy?
DAVID: Taking revenge
on the priests, I suppose. You must
remember that philosophy has often been undermined and perverted by the
influence of the majority metaphysics, and that its expositors have often been
persecuted, killed, outlawed, severely cautioned, or made to compromise
themselves in a manner which, in the long-run, could only have disastrous
consequences for both philosophy and religion.
However, in Nietzsche's case, you could say that philosophy was
standing-up for itself and simultaneously getting its own back on
religion. Instead of compromising
himself by serving the interests of Christianity, as a majority of Western philosophers
had done before him, Nietzsche purposely went out of his way to undermine and
slander it, to eliminate the entire trend or tradition of philosophical
compromise, and thus champion the rights of the Few, as opposed to those of the
Many.
KELVIN:
Yes, I realize all that! But, even so, it's
as unworthy of one who writes for the Few to attack the metaphysics of the Many
as ... of one who writes for the Many to attack the metaphysics of the
Few. It is unworthy of a true
philosopher because, in light of the intellectual differences which exist
between men, both kinds of metaphysics are equally justified and, no matter
what guise they may take, there must always be one kind of metaphysics that
interprets the Truth - insofar as we're capable of understanding it - in a
direct, or factual, way and, conversely, another kind of metaphysics which
interprets the Truth in an indirect, or allegorical, way. Now Schopenhauer wasn't, strictly speaking, a
Christian. Nevertheless he knew well
enough that the common people were entitled to a metaphysics
different from philosophy, which granted them aspects of the Truth in a
simplified, non-factual, figurative kind of way. With The Anti-Christ, however, it's as
though Nietzsche, as a philosopher, was writing for the Many against their
metaphysics rather than for the Few against an earlier philosophy. In other words, there is a contradiction
involved, quite as though, in ‘revaluating all values’, Nietzsche unconsciously
confounded the values of philosophy with those of religion and thereupon
divided himself between them. But the
philosopher's proper task is not, as previously noted, to meddle with the
metaphysics of the people, but to propound his own philosophy in opposition to
and/or as an extension of one or more of the various philosophies which have
preceded him. Admittedly, to some extent
Nietzsche did in fact do so. But he
wasn't enough of a philosopher to prevent his emotions and prejudices from
taking the lead, from time to time, and, consequently, he was driven into the
realms of artistic exaggeration and romanticism. Indeed, I'm not at all surprised that, as his
intellectual fatality gradually deepened and he realized where his true
inclinations lay, he subsequently turned against many of Schopenhauer's viewpoints. For it's only
natural, after all, that one should endeavour to defend oneself against those
who threaten to refute or contradict one's theories and, if possible, turn as
many people away from their work as possible.
Now this is certainly what the mature Nietzsche attempted to do as regards
Schopenhauer and, to an even greater extent, the Scottish writer, Thomas
Carlyle.
DAVID: Really? But I thought that Carlyle was against
Christianity, an atheist who wanted people to throw off their old spiritual
garments and emancipate themselves from the clutches of a dying society.
KELVIN: No,
not entirely. For although he may have
been against Christianity as it existed during his time, he certainly wasn't
against a metaphysics of the people per se, as Nietzsche would
appear to have been. Religion for
Carlyle wasn't something that could be done away with, in order that people
might live happily ever after. For such
an assumption would have presupposed the impossible - namely, that the
metaphysical need in the average man could be eliminated. No, it was precisely what appeared to be the
inadequacy of the then-current metaphysics of the people that Carlyle was
particularly worried about. Thus he
wanted people to throw off the old, dead metaphysics and subsequently step into
a new, healthier and better metaphysics.
Although he didn't have many useful suggestions to make as to the exact
nature of this other - not, anyway, unless you take his socialistic philosophy
of hard work as its cornerstone! One
finds in Chapter Five of Book Three of Sartor Resartus the basis of his discontent with the old
metaphysics and hope that, during the process of its ultimate dissolution, a
new metaphysical integrity would arise out of it, phoenix-like, to bring fresh
hope and life to an ailing society. With
Carlyle, there is no attempt to proclaim the 'death of God', as with Nietzsche,
but, rather, a tendency to lament over the misuse and neglect of Western man's
relationship to a deity, as apparent in his day. Thus one can quite understand why Nietzsche,
in his iconoclastic rage against everything Christian, became somewhat
contemptuous of Carlyle's insistence on the establishment of a new metaphysics,
believing, as he must, that it would only lead to a resurrection or
prolongation of man's relationship to God - the very thing that he was busily
undermining in Thus Spoke Zarathustra, The
Anti-Christ, Twilight of the Idols, and similar writings. With Carlyle, the idea that 'God is dead'
wouldn't have been a matter for rejoicing but, rather, for lamenting, since he
loathed the mechanistic and utilitarian trends that were everywhere in
full-swing in consequence of the Industrial Revolution. Admittedly, Nietzsche wasn't exactly
enamoured of them either! But his
attitude to Christianity was even more hostile, and ultimately suggested,
unlike Carlyle, that religion was largely to blame for them.
DAVID: Was Carlyle a
genuine philosopher?
KELVIN: No,
for like most Sagittarians he was much too expansive to remain wholly in the
mould of philosophy, unlike his great compatriot, David Hume, a generation or
two before. One finds Carlyle branching
out into literature, biographies, travelogues, histories, criticisms, essays,
letters, speeches, reminiscences, diaries, and so on, with a dash of philosophy
thrown-in for good measure. As in the case, for example, of the Sartor Resartus - a work which, for all its
theorizing, is predominantly literary.
No, genuine philosophers are rather few-and-far-between, which is only
to be expected where such a difficult subject is concerned, and in a world,
moreover, where the vast majority of intellectual writers are obliged to earn
their living in a somewhat more commercial vein. Schopenhauer was fortunate enough to inherit
a large patrimony, following the suicide of his father. But the vast majority of modern writers have
to struggle for a living, and philosophy is certainly not the best way to go
about doing that! Of course, to be a
genuine philosopher, it isn't enough that one should only write in a philosophical
manner, with due attention to logical consistency. One has to write great philosophy, and not
just juggle with words. But I don't want
to go into the details of that subject here.
It suffices if we regard men like Hume, Locke, Kant, and Schopenhauer as
genuine philosophers.
DAVID: Hmm, which
reminds me of what you contended earlier about Schopenhauer being the greatest
of the moderns. I am inclined to concede
now that, in strictly philosophical terms, he was greater than Nietzsche and
arguably greater than such philosophers as Berkeley, Descartes, Leibniz, Condorcet, Helvetius, Spinoza,
Hegel, and Mill. But as regards Bertrand
Russell, Sartre, Camus, Bergson,
Kierkegaard, Heidegger, and John Cowper Powys ... I'm not so sure. On what criterion do you base your
contention?
KELVIN: On
a number of criteria actually, the most important of which must surely be that,
with a little indirect help from Hume and Kant, he evolved a rather fine system
of philosophy and maintained a firm allegiance to it throughout his
professional life. Now Bertrand Russell
may well be the greatest British thinker since Hume, but he isn't by any means
a pure philosopher, and he certainly hasn't evolved a systematic
methodology. There is a great deal of
the mathematician, scientist, general essayist, sociologist, politician,
economist, autobiographer, and even artist - he wrote
several short stories - about him. Now
although I have little doubt that a philosopher should comment on a wide range
of topics, there is surely a limit as to how far he can comment on them without
ceasing to be a philosopher.
Undoubtedly, Bertrand Russell is one of the greatest writers of the
modern age, but, on serious reflection, I do not think that he is the greatest
philosopher of it. He is much too
diversified for that! And as for
Jean-Paul Sartre, I would say that he is also much too diversified to be
considered a genuine philosopher. As a
novelist, short-story writer, critic, essayist, playwright, biographer, autobiographer, journalist, and editor, he undoubtedly
ranks with the greatest writers of the twentieth century. But I hardly think that his two principal
philosophical works, Being and Nothingness and A Critique of
Dialectical Reason, really qualify him to be regarded as the greatest
philosopher of modern times either, even if he is arguably the greatest
late-twentieth century French philosopher.
Taking our previous estimation of a philosopher into account, it seems
only fair to conclude that Sartre's various literary achievements have no more
entitlement to a place in the world of philosophy than do the various literary
achievements of anyone else. And the
same, of course, applies to Albert Camus, a man whose
literary work far outshines his philosophical creations, including The
Rebel and The Myth of Sisyphus.
Besides, there is something about the so-called 'philosophy of the
absurd' which is rather absurd in itself and which, in its apparent supposition
that man is in the world but not of it, accordingly
gives rise to a certain bewilderment.
DAVID: Oh, and why is that, exactly?
KELVIN:
Because I don't understand how a person who was born into this world can
possibly fail to be of it. If, however, one were transported to the moon
one could certainly be said to be in that world or, at any rate, on
that planet but not of it, because one would require, amongst
other things, the use of a special breathing apparatus and suitably-weighted
attire to be able to survive there. But
here on earth where, if one overrules the inconvenience of daily pollution, one
can breathe perfectly well without requiring the aid of any artificial
breathing apparatus and, except in a very high gale-force wind, walk about
without running the risk of coming unstuck from the pavement or grass, and
floating off into space, it strikes me as quite absurd to suggest that we are
not of it. Admittedly,
we're not earth, stones, rocks, trees, or lakes. But, then again, neither are any of our
fellow inhabitants - the animals, birds, fish, and insects - who are all
creatures incapable of thinking about the absurd.
DAVID: But isn't it
highly probable that so much of this recent absurdist and existentialist
speculation is a direct consequence of Nietzsche's dictum that 'God is dead'
and that, as a result of this deplorable fact, or this fatuous notion, as you
prefer, modern man finds himself trapped in a godless world with a meaningless
universe all around him? In short, that
everything has become exactly what Carlyle feared it would - a sort of
boundless mechanistic desert?
KELVIN:
Yes, this is an idea which has certainly played its part in twentieth-century
philosophy. But it has also over-played
itself and, from what I've gathered during the course of my studies, I doubt
very much that Nietzsche would now feel any great sympathy towards it. In Carlyle's case - yes, it would have a
definite appeal. However, for Nietzsche,
who overcame his nihilism and whose mature philosophy is largely expressive of
one who rejoices in the fact that he has personally overthrown God and thereby
set mankind on a new, independent, and self-reliant course, it could only
engender repugnance. In this respect,
Bertrand Russell is a worthier disciple of Nietzsche than either Camus or Sartre, though he probably wouldn't have wanted to
advertise the fact. However, one can
only base one's opinion of a given writer on what one has already read by him,
irrespective of the likelihood that he may have changed his viewpoint in the
meantime, and consequently become quite different from what one superficially
imagines him to be, on the basis of a few long-published works. I dare say, for instance, that if Camus were alive today he would be writing along quite
different lines from those to which he dedicated himself during and just after
the Second World War. If I now had to
live through something similar to him, there would be a strong possibility that
such a subject as the absurdity of modern life would have more influence on me
than it does at present. But that is to
a large extent beside-the-point, and something one ought not to consider too
thoroughly, if one wants to retain one's criticisms! Curiously enough, it is usually only one's
favourite authors that one criticizes anyway, much as one criticizes one's
brothers, sisters, parents, friends, lovers, et cetera, because they are the
only people whom one is really in a position to criticize. Indeed, when one is in a critical mood one
criticizes even oneself, and sometimes more than one criticizes anyone else or,
conversely, than anyone else criticizes one.
Which is sufficient proof of the fact that one
shouldn't allow oneself to be misled into imagining that an author who
criticizes something in the work of another author necessarily dislikes either
him or his work. After all,
Nietzsche certainly criticized Schopenhauer a lot in later years, yet no-one
could have been more enthusiastic about Schopenhauer in his youth than him!
DAVID: A thing which
would indicate how much he changed over the years.
KELVIN:
Yes, and also the extent of his knowledge of Schopenhauer's work and thus, by a
curious paradox, his dependence on it.
But to continue our discussion of the relative merits of the various
philosophers, I think you can now see why I regard Schopenhauer so highly,
particularly in light of his continuous, not to say exclusive, commitment to
philosophy. Even John Cowper Powys is
only a minor philosopher by comparison.
For by far the greater part of his considerable oeuvre is of a
distinctly literary nature, and no more entitles him to be considered the
worthy inheritor of Schopenhauer's crown than do the literary works of Sartre
and Camus or, for that matter, of Arthur Koestler. As,
however, for Kierkegaard, Bergson, Jaspers, Hussurl, James, Bradley, Moore, Joad,
Berlin, and Popper, each of whom is more strictly in the philosophical tradition
than any of the above-mentioned writers, the plot becomes increasingly complex
and the rivalry more intense, though I don't seriously believe that any of
these men ultimately wins out, irrespective of the intermittent flashes of
genius from Bergson and Moore. Unfortunately, I must confess to not having
read a great deal of either Bradley or James, and that there are also some
other modern philosophers, including Heidegger and Wittgenstein, whom I can
scarcely bear reading at all! But I
don't think that fact would lead me to alter my opinion very much. These days it is so easy for the philosopher
to become swallowed-up by the psychologist, sociologist, behavioural scientist,
biologist, educationalist, mathematician, essayist, and even artist ... that it's
often exceedingly difficult to know exactly where the one begins and the other
ends. But, despite the fact that the
roles and boundaries of philosophy are constantly being modified in accordance
with the dictates of the age, one should never forget that the true philosopher
is always a rare product, and that he is usually outnumbered at least 100/1 by
the scientists, educationalists, essayists, artists, et cetera, whose
investigations may sometimes overlap with his own. It is hard enough to find an age with an
abundance of great artists - say, poets and novelists. But to find an age with an abundance of great
philosophers ... is virtually impossible!
Even the ancient Greeks, masters of the dialectic as they were, only
produced three really outstanding ones, viz. Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates,
and since then there has never been any shortage of people ready to find fault
with them, including Schopenhauer and Nietzsche. In truth, men are much easier to entertain
than to instruct, the reason being that entertainment is more closely bound to
the perceptual than to the conceptual, and the perceptual is everywhere the
root condition of things, against which the conceptual, and the highly
conceptual above all, is a sort of Christian 'rebirth' or Nietzschean
‘revaluation’. As soon as someone begins
to instruct one in philosophy, one is automatically put on one's guard against
both correct and incorrect knowledge which appears to contradict one's own
knowledge or nature or even lifestyle, and there is rarely any shortage of
either! But we have discussed this
confounded subject of philosophy and the relative merits of philosophers quite
long enough! I'm even beginning to feel
that I have convinced you of the validity of my argument, since you haven't
bothered to interrupt me for some time.
You did say something about Nietzsche having changed so much, but that
can hardly be regarded as an interruption.
DAVID: No, in actual
fact I was thinking about astrology again, wondering whether Aquarius isn't the
best sign for a philosopher to be born under.
It certainly appears to have worked in Schopenhauer's favour, doesn't
it?
KELVIN:
Indeed it does, although it's altogether doubtful that he would have given the
idea much credence, being, by nature, far too scientifically-minded to dabble
in matters which may have superstitious or occult connections. Besides, astrology was nowhere near as
popular or prevalent in the mid-nineteenth century as today, and I don't think
you will discover any reference to it in his works. However, it does seem that, with the decline
of faith in Christianity, subjects like astrology, numerology, and palmistry
have acquired a new impetus in the world; though it must remain highly unlikely
that any of them will ever become the official metaphysics of the people, just
as it must remain unlikely that any of the new so-called 'religions' will,
since they mostly lack the requisite ingredients for a genuine
metaphysics. Indeed, some of them
patently contradict one another, as do spiritualism and a belief in
reincarnation. For if one believes in a
spirit world, it seems fairly evident that reincarnation is ruled out, since
one can hardly return to earth in the guise of another creature, human or
animal, and remain a disembodied spirit at the same time, or vice versa. Thus there is always a subterranean warfare
going on between the various beliefs which corresponds, as a sort of polar
antithesis, to the polemical warfare going on between the various political
parties at any given time, and which resembles the same sordid scramble for
power. Although they may pretend
otherwise while they are weak and dispersed, most of the sects involved would
certainly like to be 'in power', to be regarded as representative of the
official metaphysics of the people, and to have dominion over all the others -
assuming the others would still be countenanced. After all, that is solely in accordance with
human nature, with the ambitions, as it were, of the various sects. But, oddly enough, I am quite satisfied with
the situation as we find it today, i.e. with so many conflicting beliefs and
sects that none of them has complete dominion over the others and no reason, in
consequence, to instigate wholesale purges or public executions in the name of
the Truth and against the many 'heretics' who somehow remain unconvinced of its
authenticity. Even the official
metaphysics, as represented by Christianity, is much less powerful than it used
to be, and consequently much more tolerant of heretics and unbelievers. Perhaps that is the chief reason why, in some
countries, it appears to be making a greater effort at bringing the various
denominations into closer unity, in order to make an ecumenical 'last stand',
as it were, in the face of increasing Aquarian opposition as a single body,
rather than as a number of separate limbs as much torn apart by inter-unitary
conflict as by extra-unitary opposition.
However, whether there will then be a sort of spiritual Blücher to assist it, remains to
be seen.
DAVID: Perhaps that
'spiritual Blücher', as you so arcanely
put it, will be the Second Coming, come back to aid
the faithful and divide the chaff from the wheat?
KELVIN:
Yes, although you know better than anyone that I am essentially a man of
philosophy, rather than of religion.
DAVID: But if
Schopenhauer is still right about philosophy being of interest only to the Few,
he is certainly wrong about religion being of interest only to the Many, as can
be verified by the dwindling numbers of church-goers and true believers. It is quite evident that the vast majority of
ordinary people are nowhere near as Christian-minded as were their
ancestors. Naturally, there are still
people who can't get along without a belief in God, but one hesitates to name
them among the majority. It's only too
obvious that Schopenhauer's so-called metaphysics of the people is really a
rather arbitrary definition for that which, in the majority of Western nations,
transpires to being a metaphysics of a minority and, often enough, of a
bourgeois minority at that! If Karl Marx
hasn't taken over from Jesus Christ, where the majority of people are
concerned, I really don't know who the hell has! Perhaps we ought to extend the horizon of
contemporary religion until it encompasses everything from mystical intuition
to psychedelic hallucinations; from trust in the 'born leader' to conversations
with the dead; from belief in reincarnation to an explanation of the heavenly
bodies in terms of astrological determinism; from a worship of one's favourite
artists or film stars to a pantheistic identification with nature; from a
regular perusal of wise sayings or teachings to several minutes' daily quiet
and stillness, et cetera. By the way, I
should be interested to learn, in light of what you were saying about the
conflicts and contradictions between the various esoteric sects, whether you
would give more credence to reincarnation than to spiritualism, or vice versa?
KELVIN: I'm
afraid that I shall have to disappoint you, since I give no credence to either.
DAVID: Oh, and why, exactly,
is that?
KELVIN:
Because I don't understand how a spirit can come back to earth in the guise of
another being, still less how a spirit, i.e. a 'will' in Schopenhauer's sense
of the term, devoid of intellect and thus of verbal self-consciousness, can
possibly communicate with the living. It
may well be that the Will, as spirit and kernel of our true being, can survive
bodily death. But if it does so without
self-consciousness, as Schopenhauer reasonably maintained, then one might as
well abandon the idea of survival altogether, since one won't know anything
about it. What is the use of an Eternal
Will without a consciousness to guide it?
Indeed, there is adequate indication in the second volume of The World
as Will and Representation that the word 'soul', as significant of a fusion
of will and conceptual consciousness, was anathema to Schopenhauer, and that he
expressly forbade future philosophers to make use of it because, unlike every
philosopher before him, with the possible exception of Hume, he clearly saw the
individual divided into will and intellect, into thing-in-itself and
phenomenon, into eternal and temporal, into that which is primary and that
which is secondary, in complete opposition to the hitherto-accepted belief that
the Will proceeded from the intellect and thus formed a unity, or soul, of
which the body was antithesis. Now
spiritualists may use the term 'spirit' as opposed to 'soul', but the whole
idea of communicating with a spirit presupposes the existence in that spirit of
a knowing consciousness, hence a 'soul' in the worst possible sense of the
word, which is capable of delivering messages, through a medium, to those
present at the séance, or spiritualistic gathering. Now my objection to this is based on the
realization that even if spirits did exist, they could only do so without
consciousness and therefore with no possibility of being able to communicate
with the living. For one cannot deliver
verbal messages without the assistance of an intellect, and one certainly
cannot use the intellect unless, as a function of the brain, it is being kept
alive by the regular pulsation of the heart and the concomitant flow of blood
through the cerebral and other arteries.
And I certainly don't see how an alien spirit, deprived of consciousness,
would be able to usurp the domain of one's own spirit and thereby make use of
one's intellect as a means to establishing the requisite spiritual/intellectual
integrity of a communicative being.
Hence it appears absolutely inadmissible to me that one should ever be
in a position to communicate with spirits.
DAVID: Well, you have
made a fairly strong point there.
Although my knowledge of Schopenhauer isn't as profound as yours, and
therefore I can't remember very much of what he wrote on the difference between
will and intellect. But perhaps you
would now like to expatiate on your objection to reincarnation?
KELVIN: All
right, but only after I have put a question to you first?
DAVID: Sure, go ahead!
KELVIN:
What do you seriously suppose a spirit to be?
DAVID: You mean, how do
I visualize one?
KELVIN:
Precisely.
DAVID: Well, I'm not
absolutely sure. I suppose one usually
thinks of wills, spirits, or whatever in terms of the human form, a sort of
transparent body ranging from the height of a child to that of a fully-grown
adult. Even Schopenhauer contended, if I
remember correctly, that the Will isn't limited to the brain or head because,
objectively considered, the brain is merely a function of it, but extends throughout
the entire body - indeed, that the body was really the objectification of the
Will as perceived by the mind, and that the heart was its chief symbol. Yes, so one can only imagine a dead person's
spirit as taking his physical shape and size.
KELVIN: It
interests me the way you speak of a 'will' when considering the living but
instinctively rename it a 'spirit' when speaking of the dead. It seems as though one cannot imagine the
Will surviving death.
DAVID: Yes, that is an
odd thing, and I'm not at all sure that Schopenhauer really appreciated the
distinction! But, tell me, has my
definition of a spirit satisfied you, and, if so, do you agree with me on what
I can only regard as a rather dubious hypothesis?
KELVIN: I
do, insofar as we're only assuming that spirits exist for the sake of
argument. And so we find ourselves with
the prospect of a man-sized spirit on our hands, a spirit which has come
adrift, as it were, from someone's dead body and, without the assistance of
either a brain or any senses, is now trying to find its way back to life, back
to the land of the living. How it can
get about without such assistance, I really don't know. But we must assume, for the sake of
continuing our argument, that it can. Now it seems unlikely that this hypothetical
spirit, this man-sized spirit of a dead person, will endeavour to find its way
back to life in this world by, as it were, 'gate-crashing' a living person,
presumably someone of the same sex. For
where there is already a spirit or, rather, will in operation, there's hardly
room or cause for another! So the only
way it can return to this delightful world is presumably as a new-born
baby. Thus it must await its turn in the
queue, so to speak, along with the many other spirits adrift in limbo, for a
suitable opportunity, and not endeavour to force any couple on earth to start a
family or extend the size of their existing family against their will or before
they are ready. Only when its time has
at last arrived, and copulation without contraception is leading to positive
results, can it surreptitiously force its way into the vagina of the potential
mother and, having reached the womb, link-up with the sperm cells or incipient
foetus of the potential baby and subsequently reappear, approximately nine
months later, in the guise of a new-born child.
The parents will, of course, recognize this child as their own, and they
will think, if familiar with Schopenhauer's metaphysics, that its intellect, as
the secondary function, came from the mother, whereas its Will, as the primary
function, came from the father, thereby altogether ruling out the possibility
that an alien spirit may have previously and unknowingly installed itself as
the legitimate Will. Now as the child
grows up and gradually manifests the parental inheritance in all of its various
guises, is perceived, for instance, to have the father's nose but the mother's
eyes, the father's build but the mother's hair, the father's moral
predilections but the mother's understanding, the parents will never for a
moment doubt that it is their legitimate offspring, that it was given life by
them and by them alone! But those who
believe, against all reason, in reincarnation know better, don't they? They know that the child's spirit came from
elsewhere and surreptitiously installed itself without either of the parents
being in any degree aware of the fact.
They wouldn't like the idea that the Will came from the father, because
that could imply that the child had two Wills which, even according to their
dubious logical standards, is quite impossible.
Thus they disregard the father's influence, even though everything about
copulation suggests that his influence cannot be disregarded so easily.
DAVID: Enough! I quite understand why you object to
reincarnation, even though you talk about it in such a serious and seemingly
convincing manner! Indeed, I'm rather
surprised that I ever took an interest in the subject. For I did once upon a time,
when I was a credulous young adolescent intent upon getting to the 'truth' of
such esoteric doctrines, no matter by what circuitous paths. What amazes me is that I didn't think about
those sorts of considerations at all, but just blandly swallowed everything
with a studious disregard for their intrinsic fallibility. But those days, thank God, are past, and I
doubt if I shall ever again fall victim to any degree of intellectual
acquiescence in such matters - not, that is, unless I'm unfortunate enough to
become thoroughly senile in old age!
KELVIN:
Heaven forbid!
DAVID: Well, having got
this far with our discussion, I suppose we ought to continue from where we left
off about the spirits, for I am quite interested to hear what else you have to
say about or, more accurately, against them.
We are still conveniently assuming that spirits exist, but you are quite
opposed to the idea that (1) they can communicate with the living; and (2) they
can return to life on this planet in the guise of another person. Thus we are faced with the problem of
ascertaining exactly what they can do, and on this point it seems that we get
very little help from Schopenhauer. For
although he contended that the Will is eternal, he left us with no idea as to
what it would be most likely to do in eternity.
KELVIN:
Quite, since it isn't something about which the living are in a position to
speculate with any degree of accuracy.
But I should be interested to know, in asking you another question,
whether you believe in ghosts?
DAVID: Certainly
not! How many intelligent people
actually believe in ghosts these days?
Scarcely anyone!
KELVIN:
Then you're aware that spirits and ghosts are really one and the same
thing, and that the word 'spirit' is merely a more sophisticated term for a
ghost?
DAVID: Yes, I guess
so. But what does that have to do with
the eternality of the Will? Surely
you're not suggesting that the word 'will' has even greater dignity than
'spirit', and thus removes us twice over, in fairly Platonic fashion, from
ghosts?
KELVIN:
Indeed I am! For, like you, I find it
difficult to believe in ghosts, and if 'ghost', 'spirit', and 'will' are all
indicative of the same thing, then I must confess to finding it no less
difficult to believe in the eternality of the Will, despite my genuine
admiration for Schopenhauer's work.
Admittedly, like you, I can conceive of the Will as the cardinal force
behind every human being. But I
certainly cannot conceive of Will as the cardinal force behind itself! An Eternal Will - as character, drives,
passions, emotions, et cetera - without a body to serve, appears as
ridiculously impossible to me as would a living body without a Will to guide
it. After all, it's only the brain, with
the aid of the senses and intellect, which makes it possible for the Will to
respond to the information it receives in either a positive
or a negative manner. It is only a high
level of consciousness which makes it possible for the will to feel either
pleasure or pain, love or hate, sympathy or anger, respect or contempt,
certainty or doubt, enthusiasm or apathy, et cetera, and if this level of
consciousness is removed from it, as appears to be the case at death, then it
is very difficult to see how the Will - as drives, passions, emotions, et
cetera - can continue to function in its proper capacity - indeed, how it can
continue to function at all! As I said
earlier, once one is deprived of consciousness, one is as good as extinct. For the idea of an Eternal Will is of little
consolation if there isn't going to be a mind to witness it. Even Schopenhauer has his contradictions on
this point. For, having claimed
somewhere that the Will is eternal, he goes on to assert, somewhere else, that
it's virtually synonymous with the heart, that age-old symbol of the soul
which, as we all know, ceases to function at death. Of course, one can always use the word
'eternal' in a more down-to-earth sense, as significant of that which is always
to be found in men or animals from generation to generation and which undergoes
no fundamental change in itself, unlike certain parts of the organism. But that wasn't what Schopenhauer was driving
at, when he considered the Eternal, nor does it explain the differences in
character between people, which he also attributes to the Will. However, as to the Christian notion of the
'equality of all souls', taking the word 'soul' as synonymous with 'will' and
not with 'will and intellect', one finds a fundamental truth there in that
every soul or will is capable of expressing itself in terms of the various
emotions and passions known to man - for example, that love, hate, anger,
jealousy, fear, trust, joy, sorrow, doubt, compassion, respect, hope, contempt,
malice, benevolence, et cetera, are known to
everyone, although they may not be known to everyone to exactly the same
extent. But, then again, one cannot
claim that everyone has the same character or temperament. So, since the character is clearly a product
of the Will rather than of the intellect, the 'equality of all souls' is
evidently a rather limited proposition - limited, that is, if one regards it
from a purely scientific viewpoint, as opposed to the social viewpoint of its
psychological aid to the oppressed over the centuries. As a panacea for the humble and downtrodden,
the ugly and stupid, it has undoubtedly worked wonders!
DAVID: And usually to
the dismay of the ruling classes! Be
that as it may, there is something about the different types of character which
has started me thinking along astrological lines again. I mean if, as you learnt from Schopenhauer,
character, as a product of the Will, is a direct inheritance from one's father,
how, then, do you reconcile that with astrology, with a belief which quite
emphatically maintains that one's character is to a large extent governed and
determined by the planetary pattern existing at one's birth? Surely there is a contradiction involved here
which is almost as unpardonable as the contradiction concerning
reincarnation. For one obviously cannot
be the inheritor of two characters, any more than one can be the inheritor of
two wills! Either one acquires one's
character from one's father or one acquires it from the planets.
KELVIN:
That is a very good point and, in nine cases out of ten, I'm quite sure that a
mother would be more willing to ascribe this important acquisition to the
planets than to her husband! Now
although, as previously remarked, I'm not a real devotee of astrology, I am
quite prepared to accept the idea that the planets may have some relation to
one's character, but a relation or 'synchronization', as the astrologers are
now calling it, which is entirely different from what one inherits from one's
parents and, more especially, one's male progenitor. This latter relation I assume to be largely
moral, whereas the former relation I assume to be largely amoral, though not
immoral. Any comparison with one's
father will indicate that in certain respects of character one is quite
similar, whilst in certain other respects one is quite dissimilar, and this
dissimilarity, usually consisting of what may be termed 'surface traits', can
be ascribed, I think, more to the time of year at which one was born than to
the influence of one's mother, which, in any case, seems - if Schopenhauer is
to be believed - largely to do with the understanding. Indeed, one might assume from this that only
those sons who were born at the same time of year as their father, and
therefore under a similar planetary configuration, would most resemble him in
character. Thus a father and son who
were both Leonean, and hence proud, creative, commanding, generous,
strong-willed, dignified, fixed in their opinions, and so on, might further
resemble each other in their moral outlook upon the world, in their respective
artistic or scientific predilections, their politics, religion, class,
responsibility, humour, and any other traits which might correspond to the
father's hereditary bequests. But, even
so, the influence of the mother still has to be reckoned with, and if she is an
unusually intelligent woman, then the chances are pretty high that the son will
be somewhat cleverer than his father and that some of his moral characteristics
will be proportionately modified.
DAVID: Well, from what
little I know about astrology, I would certainly say that you are doing your
best, as a certified Libra, to strike a balance between the influences of
planets and father as regards the shaping of character. A less 'balanced' person would probably
settle for either one or the other, not both!
I, at any rate, would definitely be more inclined to put my money on the
father's influence. But if I told you
that I was an Aries, I suppose you'd be able to concoct an excuse for
dismissing my opinion on the basis of its lopsidedness and one-pointedness of aim, and for reminding me, in suitably terse
terms, that, as a pioneer and firebrand, I'm congenitally unfit for subtle
discussion! And I dare say that, if I'd
been born on Mars on April 15th, I would be considered even more unfit for
subtle discussion!
KELVIN: Not
necessarily. For if you had been born on
Mars you wouldn't be an Aries at all.
DAVID: Why ever not?
KELVIN: For
the simple reason that an Aries only exists in relation to our life on
earth. A person born on Mars would be
subject to quite different influences, no matter in what month he was born. Instead of being influenced or affected by Mars,
he would be influenced by the Earth and by an entirely different configuration
of planets. Besides, as Mars takes
almost two years to circle the Sun, there would have to be about twenty-three
earth months or, alternatively, twelve 55 day months to make a year on Mars,
and that would necessitate the introduction of a different pattern of
astrological signs and values, particularly in view of the fact that Mars has
two moons. Fortunately to say, no-one
from this planet has yet been born there.
But with space-research developments pushing ahead so quickly, it isn't
altogether impossible that people may be born there in the not-too-distant
future, and then astrologers, if any still exist, will be obliged to study the
relative planetary configurations from Mars, in order to ascertain the
strongest influences which the Earth and other planets in the Solar System are
likely to have on such people. There can
be no doubt that, with the rise of various space stations and air-conditioned
outposts on other planets, today's astrology will appear elementary by
comparison! Imagine, for instance, what
difficulty an astrologer would be faced with if, in the event of people being
born on Jupiter, he had to account for the influence of its twelve moons! And this is a planet which takes
approximately 11¾ earth years to circle the Sun!
DAVID: I don't think
that I'd want to be an astrologer, in those circumstances. And I don't think that anybody will ever be
born on Jupiter anyway, at least not for hundreds of years to come. It would be a strange thing, though, if there
were other highly developed beings in different solar systems throughout this
galaxy that had also evolved a system of astrology, but one which, of
necessity, was entirely different from our own.
The mind fairly boggles at the thought of what kind of influences they
might be subject to, of how many planets and moons their solar systems might
contain, and of what kind of names these planets might have! But I don't want to get carried away by this
sort of far-fetched speculation, when I already find the astrological
speculation on this planet more than sufficiently far-fetched! I must return to sensible proportions, and
not permit your perverse Libran imagination to carry me away. If people heard us talking like this, they'd
probably consider us mad! Why, you'll be
telling me next that if, in the future, I intend to start a family, I ought to
choose the right time to make my wife pregnant so that, nine months later, she
can deliver her child under the auspices of a favourable star or planetary
configuration!
KELVIN: My
dear friend, that is a most excellent idea, and one of the best you've given me
all afternoon! I suggest, for the sake
of variety, that you make her pregnant in late January or early April, in order
to have either a Libran or a Sagittarian child or, failing that, in late May or
early October, in order to have either an Aquarian or a Geminian
child. In all four cases you should be
guaranteed a high degree of natural intellectuality and communicativeness
which, by keeping you both amused and instructed in later years, will largely
repay you for your pains. Of course, you
may think there is far too much superstition involved with this strategy and
that, by a common law of nature, one should only make
one's wife pregnant when one genuinely feels the urge to do so. If that is the case, then I would advise you
to forget what I have just said and continue to go about your marital duties in
a less methodical manner. After all,
there is always the possibility that your wife may give birth either
prematurely or belatedly, and thus ruin your astrological calculations
altogether, plunging you into a fit of despair at the prospect of having to
raise someone you hadn't in the least bargained for - a young brat of an Aries
or a hypocritical Virgo, a tight-lipped Taurus or an over-emotional
Scorpio. Yes, and there is even the
possibility that you may change your mind when it's too late, regretting, on
deeper consideration, that you hadn't made your wife pregnant in early October
rather than early April. In which case,
it's probably wiser to keep astrological considerations in the background and
to follow your lascivious bent, whatever the consequences! As the poet Gray once wrote: "Where
ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise".
DAVID: Maybe. Although, as a married man who shortly
intends to start a family, I must confess to being somewhat intrigued by the
idea of planning ahead like that! But,
at the moment, I don't know enough about astrology to permit myself any firm
decisions.
KELVIN: You
could always buy a few worthwhile books on the subject, or even go along to the
local library and borrow some of the better astrological tomes to be found
there. As a matter of fact, I'm
returning that Modern Textbook of Astrology quite soon, so if
you would like me to reserve it for you ...
DAVID: (Returns the
book in question to his friend's desk) Yes, that would be an excellent
idea! I shall have to go into this
business in some depth, just to be on the safe side. I may not be one of the most superstitious of
people but, if some of the things you've said about astrology are true, then,
as a potential father, I ought to grant the subject a little more credence than
hitherto! Unfortunately, my interest in
astronomy has always precluded me from taking a strong interest in
astrology. But if, as you maintain,
everything connected with the world of man is dualistic, then I have absolutely
no reason to presume that the planets are any exception, or that a material universe
can exist without a spiritual, or occult, one behind it. My chief concern to-date has been with the
material, whereas it would seem that yours has been with the spiritual.
KELVIN: A
fact which, in astrological terms, doesn't in the least surprise me, since
Aries is ruled by Mars, which is a predominantly 'material' planet, whereas
Libra is ruled by Venus which, by contrast, is a predominantly 'spiritual'
one. Thus whilst, as a Libran, I may
endeavour to strike a balance between astronomy and astrology, it's likely that
I shall be slightly more interested in the latter study, since it is mostly
concerned with the spiritual influence of planets. Indeed, radio and television waves have given
us ample proof, this century, of the spiritual influences at work on this
planet, and one might just as well cite the moon's influence over the tides as
the sun's influence over the growth of crops.
But a purely material interpretation of things is of no more use to us
than a purely spiritual one. For in both
cases we're only given half the picture, not the whole, and so the truth
remains unacknowledged. Now just as
there exists a spiritualism which is a discredit to the spiritual, so there
exists a materialism which is a discredit to the material, and which only
succeeds in bringing the material interpretation into disrepute and in
engendering, as a violent reaction, an equally disreputable spiritual
interpretation. The only thing one can
do to prevent oneself swinging from one extreme to the other is to cultivate
authentic interpretations of both, and then keep them in as stable an equilibrium as possible.
For a misuse of the one will subsequently engender a misuse of the
other, and instead of serving each other, as indeed they should, they'll
slander and undermine each other, to the ultimate detriment of both and,
needless to say, to the lasting detriment of mankind in general. Thus, if we're wise, we will be neither
anti-spiritual nor anti-material but, on the contrary, see the legitimacy,
logicality, and authenticity of both spheres in their rightful
perspectives. And in this respect we
have something to learn from women who, on the whole, are shrewder than men and
more attuned to the spiritual influences of the planets than us. We should do well to follow their moderation
from time to time!
DAVID: Well, I
certainly endeavour to do that as regards the material side of things. But I have to confess that my wife seems to
belong to that small percentage of women who take absolutely no interest in
astrology. She never reads the
horoscopes.
KELVIN: I
should hope not! For in the vast
majority of cases the daily or weekly horoscopes aren't written by serious,
professional astrologers but by quacks and hired mercenaries whose chief
purpose, apart from concocting platitudinous advice and forecasts, is to
detract from the already-precarious reputation of their superior colleagues and
discourage one from taking astrology seriously.
In this last respect they succeed remarkably well! So it's of little surprise to me that a
well-educated woman like your wife should fail to be impressed. However, I wager anything that her apparent
indifference will be transmuted into a growing curiosity once she realizes that
you have taken a genuine interest in the subject and are perusing your
textbook. If she is a loving wife, she
will be the last person on earth to discourage you from your recent
change-of-heart.
DAVID: I do hope you're
right. For I have no immediate
intentions of being discouraged, not even by you!
KELVIN: And
I have no immediate intentions of discouraging you. Although, between
ourselves, there is a high probability that the complexity of that textbook
will. After all, not everyone is
cut-out to be an astrologer!
