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 various 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!
