The other kind of experience is that which pertains to the external senses. And both kinds of experience are the only sources of knowledge that are actual (rather than potential), the only sources either of believing or of knowing. What conclusion should be drawn from a given experience, this is what is relative, because natural man draws one conclusion, social, educated, etc., man another, and an animal of another species yet another, and so forth. And in this way beliefs are relative and diversify.
So belief is natural when the animal draws from a given experience the conclusion that nature has arranged for it to draw, and vice versa. And therefore the action derived from it is natural when it arises from a natural belief, in other words from a conclusion drawn naturally, and vice versa. And therefore life is natural when actions derive from natural beliefs, and vice versa. And therefore, finally, man is as perfect and happy as every other animal when his life consists of natural actions, and vice versa.
[445] Neither ideas nor beliefs are exactly innate, but what is innate in man is the disposition to commit himself to a given belief or judgment in the light of a given experience, inclination, etc. And it is in this sense that I am referring to innate ideas and instinct. And this applies precisely with the brutes, who have innate ideas only in this sense, and yet, broadly speaking, all animals of the same species have the same beliefs, that is, they are resolved to believe in the same way, and by properly using these beliefs they are all perfect and happy in relation to their essence. Consequently, such beliefs are in effect natural, and the legitimate children of nature, even though they are not immediately produced by its hand. But “quod est caussa caussae, est etiam caussa caussati” [“that which produces the cause also produces the effect”].1 In the same way that actions consistent with the said beliefs are natural, even though they are carried out directly by the individual and not by nature; and even though they are free and unforced, just as actions that derive from religious, philosophical beliefs, etc., are unforced, and yet, though unforced, are called, and are, religious, philosophical, etc., actions.
[446] Man distances himself from nature, and therefore from happiness, when by dint of experiences of every kind that he should not have had and which nature has ordained that he should not have (because it has been seen a thousand times that nature conceals itself as much as possible,1 placing millions of obstacles in the way of the knowledge of reality), by dint of connections, traditions, discussion with others, etc., man’s reasoning begins to acquire other information, it begins to compare and finally to deduce other conclusions, both from natural information and from that which he should not have obtained. And thus, as his beliefs alter, whether they lead to the truth or to errors that are no longer natural, man’s natural state alters, too. Because his actions no longer come from natural beliefs, they are no longer natural. He no longer obeys his primitive inclinations because he no longer thinks it necessary, nor does he draw the natural consequence from them, etc. And in this way, altered man, that is, man who has become imperfect in relation to his own nature, becomes unhappy. (Man can also become unhappy accidentally by reason of external forces that prevent him from acting in conformity with his beliefs, that is, from doing what he thinks is good for him, or not doing what he thinks and believes to be [447] bad. Such forces are illness, violence inflicted by other individuals, by other species, by the elements, etc. etc. etc. This kind of unhappiness is irrelevant to our discussion. It is more or less the unhappiness of ancient times.)
From these observations deduce that the real enemy of nature is not reason but science and knowledge, or rather experience, their mother. Because the conduct and the entire life of natural man, and of other living beings, is perfectly reasonable, being the result of beliefs drawn in the form of a consequence, by means of a syllogism, from those premises. When experience grows further than it should, it changes, alters, multiplies excessively the bases of the syllogisms that produce beliefs, thereby altering the said conclusions or beliefs, so that it is no longer reasonable to determine to believe certain things that are naturally believable, and therefore to do or avoid certain things that are naturally to be done or avoided. But reason absolutely, in itself, is innocent, and it is fully active [448] even in the natural state. In other words, man, even in the natural state (and it is exactly the same for the brute), is consistent and decides to believe what seems to him to be true, through perfect reasoning. And he chooses to accept or avoid what he truly believes to be good or bad for him, in relation to his general and individual nature and his circumstances at the particular moment in which he makes his determination.
In any event, just as complete indifference, in other words, the absence of every determination of the intellect, that is, of all belief, would be fatal for the animal that is free and dependent on its own determination, so, too, more or less, is doubt, which is almost identical to such a state. In the same way, difficulty or slowness in reaching a determination will also be bad and harmful (connect anxiety and the torment of indecision with this point). And therefore the state of man will be all the happier the more he is able and ready to determine to believe (from which action then follows), that is, to reach a conclusion from a given premise, and the greater the force, or rather certainty, with which he does so. (It is assumed, of course, that the belief is to his benefit, because the contrary supposition [449] is not relevant to this discussion.) Now, continual experience has demonstrated that the closer man is to the natural state, the more easily, readily, and certainly he reaches his beliefs, as indeed happens in animals, which have no difficulty or hesitation or doubt about their ideas or beliefs, which are innate in the sense described above. And likewise the child, the uneducated person, etc. And, on the other hand, the further he is from the natural state, that is, the more he knows, the more difficulty and hesitation is experienced in reaching a determination, and the less force, or certainty, this determination or belief has. So that the certainty men have in their beliefs (and therefore in the determination and force of their action, which has a direct relationship with the certainty of their beliefs) is in inverse proportion to their knowledge. “Hoc unum scio, me nihil scire” [“The only thing I know is that I know nothing”]: famous saying of that ancient sage.1 And this is the conclusion, the substance, the essence, the summit, the purpose, the perfection of wisdom. Whereas with the child and the uneducated man, it can be said that they believe they are ignorant of nothing, and, if nothing else, they believe they know for certain everything they believe. And this is the summit of ignorance. (Whence it follows that, believing what is consistent with nature, and believing it in this way, they become happy and [450] perfect.) So that whereas nothing but belief is needed, or is indeed of any use, for the determination of man, knowledge, normally regarded as the only thing that can determine him, is the enemy of belief, and therefore of determination. And rather than ignorance, such as is found in nature (not absolute ignorance, that is, the denial of all belief or determination of the intellect, which does not occur in nature), leading men or animals to indifference, as they claim, it is knowledge that leads them there (and eternal experience proves it). And the more man knows, the more difficulty, hesitation, and doubt he has in forming a decision. The greater the knowledge, the less the determination. And so far is belief from being incompatible with ignorance that it is, on the contrary, much more compatible with ignorance than with knowledge.
If you still doubted what I say, that is, that Adam was originally infused with belief (in the same way as other animals) and not with knowledge proper, just consider what is written in Scripture, that after having sinned he acquired knowledge of good and evil. The knowledge of good and evil is none other than absolute knowing, [451] true belief that is no longer relative but absolute, the knowing of things as they are, that is, good or bad, not relative to man, but independently and absolutely, the knowledge of reality, of absolute truth, which, of itself, is indifferent to man, and harmful when knowledge of it is contrary to the nature of the knower. If
, therefore, Adam acquired it after sinning, he did not have it before. In fact, Scripture states explicitly that he did not have it, and the serpent persuaded the woman to sin in order to acquire it. This is a winning argument, final and conclusive. How could knowledge have been infused into Adam originally if afterward, and through sin, he acquired the knowledge of good and evil? And for the effects of this specific knowledge, see pp. 446–47. (22 Dec. 1820.)
It has been observed a thousand times that individuals tend naturally to measure others according to themselves, that is, to believe as absolutely true what is true only in relation to them. Indeed, the individual can scarcely have any formal conception of another individual of different character, temperament, thought, deed, etc. At most, he will perceive that the person exists, because he sees him, but not how he exists, not the specific, defined makeup of that individual, which is different from his own. Not even in the tiniest, incidental everyday differences and ways. If this is so for individuals, how much more natural must it be for species and genera in relation to other species and genera! And if it is so for species and genera of one and the same order, how much more must it be so for all of this order as a whole in relation to another order, whether existing or possible! [452] This is something certain and indisputable. The truth about good and evil, that one thing is good and the other is bad, is believed to be naturally absolute, when in fact it is only relative. This is an immense source of both popular and philosophical errors. This is a vast observation that destroys countless philosophical systems, etc., and resolves and overcomes countless contradictions and difficulties in the broad consideration of things, especially in general, and concerning their relationships. There is almost no other absolute truth, except that All is relative. This must be the basis for all metaphysics. (22 Dec. 1820.)
With regard to supposed natural law, and how the idea or law of contract doesn’t exist in nature, and how absolutely no kind of compulsory contract is possible in nature, even if one is actually made, and however perfect it might be, see Essai sur l’indifférence en matière de Religion, about twenty pages after the beginning of Chapter 10.1 (22 Dec. 1820.)
So true is it that the extraordinary is a source of [453] grace, that wicked men have more success with women than the good, provided that their wickedness is clear-cut, open, frank, courageous, that it is straightforward, strong, constant, and not timid, indecisive, hidden, variable, etc., like everyone else’s. This is not just because wicked people are cleverer than good people but precisely because they are wicked, and because that particular kind of wickedness has something courageous, proud, in short extraordinary about it which intrigues and pleases, and makes them attractive. So that what is odious about them becomes attractive, precisely because by being so completely odious it becomes extraordinary. (22 Dec. 1820.)
“Clarissimum deinde omnium ludicrum certamen, et ad excitandam” (alii legunt exercitandum, sed non probatur) “corporis animique virtutem efficacissimum, Olympiorum, initium habuit” [“Soon afterward the Olympic games, the most celebrated of all contests in sports, and the most effective in calling forth” (others read in exercising but it is not proven) “virtue both of body and mind, had their beginning”]. Velleius, Historia romana, bk. 1, ch. 8.1 (22 Dec. 1820.)
The idea that the ancients had about the happiness (and therefore the unhappiness) of man in this life, about his glory, his exploits, and the way in which all seemed solid and real to him, [454] can also be inferred from the following: that they believed the Gods themselves envied man’s great happiness and exploits, and they therefore feared their envy, and it was their task in such cases “deprecari” [to avert] divine envy, so that a small harm was deemed good fortune, and they even sought it out themselves (if I remember right) in order to appease the Gods, and mitigate their envy.1 “Deos immortales precatus est, ut, si quis eorum invideret operibus ac fortunae suae, in ipsum potius saevirent, quam in remp.” [“He prayed to the immortal gods that, if any of them should envy his achievements and his fortune, they should rather vent their rage against himself than against the state”]. Velleius, bk. 1, ch. 10, in relation to Aemilius Paullus. And this is what happened, as two of his sons died, one four days before his triumph and the other three days afterward. And see here the Variorum notes.2 See also Dionysius of Halicarnassus, bk. 12, chs. 20 and 23, Milan ed., and the note by Mai in ch. 20.3 See as well these thoughts p. 197, end. Indeed, the ancients regarded the affairs of this world as being so important that they attributed no other motives than our own to the desires or the actions of the Gods, they regarded the Gods as being in communion with our life and our goods, and therefore thought they were jealous of our happiness and our exploits, just like our fellow humans, [455] not doubting themselves to be worthy of the envy of the immortals. (23 Dec. 1820.) See p. 494, paragraph 1.
As the richest of us would gain no honor by lavishing money upon those peoples who neither know nor esteem gold or silver, indeed, if he had no other way of winning esteem would be placed lower than the low and would not satisfy even his most essential needs with his money, so, where intelligence or wit have no value, or when no one understands how to appreciate them, the most intelligent, cleverest, greatest man, if he has no other gifts, will be despised and placed among the lowliest. It is the same where he has a certain kind of intelligence or wit that is not admired in that country. It is the same in relation to the times. In each place and at each time, one must spend the local currency. He who has none is poor, however rich he might be in other money. (23 Dec. 1820.)
Tityrus et segetes, Aeneiaque arma legentur
Roma triumphati dum caput orbis erit.
[They will read about Tityrus and the cornfields, Aeneas and his feats of arms, as long as Rome rules over the conquered world.]
Ovid, Amorum, bk. 1.1
Fortunati ambo! si quid mea carmina possunt,
Nulla dies umquam memori vos eximet aevo:
[456] Dum domus Aeneae Capitoli immobile saxum
Adcolet, imperiumque pater Romanus habebit.
[Blessed pair! If my poetry has any power, no day shall ever remove you from the memory of time: so long as the house of Aeneas dwells on the fixed rock of the Capitol, and the Father of Rome holds sovereign sway.]
Virgil, Aeneid 9, 446.1
Usque ego postera
Crescam laude recens, dum Capitolium
Scandet cum tacita virgine pontifex.
[I will always grow in the praise of posterity, for so long as the Pontifex ascends the Capitol with the silent virgin.]
Horace, Carmina 3, ode 30, l. 7.2
Rome is no longer Queen of the World, the Father of Rome no longer holds the reins of the empire, the Pontifex Maximus no longer climbs to the Capitol with the Vestal virgin, a very long time has gone by, and yet the verses of Virgil are still read, Nisus and Euryalus have not been forgotten, and the fame of Horace endures.3 Fortune is fickle, and these poets certainly never imagined that time would have had more difficulty destroying their verses than the vast and solid Roman empire, built over so many centuries. But these sheets of paper survived that mighty edifice, through a whim of fortune, which has destroyed countless other works of ancient genius, and preserved these beyond the space allotted by hope itself, self-love itself, their authors’ own imaginative power. (23 Dec. 1820.)
[457] How true it is that universal love, while destroying love of country, does not replace it with any other active passion, and that group loyalty loses its intensity and effectiveness as it expands, can be considered in light of the fact that the first symptoms of the fatal disease that destroyed the liberty and then the grandeur of Rome appeared at the same time as citizenship was granted to Italy after the Social War,1 and the colonies spread, expanding for the first time outside Italy under the laws passed by Gracchus or Drusus, around 30 years after the events concerning Gaius Gracchus, and around 40 years after those concerning Tiberius Gracchus, described by Velleius (2, 3). “Hoc initium in urbe Roma civilis sanguinis, gladiorumque impunitat
is fuit” [“This was the start of civil bloodshed in Rome, and of impunity for crimes committed with the sword”]2 and the rest, where he comes to regard this as the initial cause of the ruin and decline of Rome. See bk. 2, ch. 2, ch. 6, ch. 8, beginning, and ch. 15; bk. 1, ch. 15, end, with the Variorum notes.3 Those colonies, carrying Roman citizenship with them, spread Rome throughout Italy, and then throughout the empire. See, in particular, Montesquieu, Grandeur, etc., ch. 9, pp. 99–101, and the notes therein: “Ainsi Rome n’étoit pas proprement une Monarchie [458] ou une République, mais la tête d’un corps formé par tous les peuples du monde … Les peuples … ne faisoient un corps que par une obéissance commune; et sans être compatriotes, ils étoient tous Romains” [“Thus, Rome was not strictly speaking a Monarchy or a Republic, but the head of a body formed by all the peoples of the world … The peoples … only constituted one body by virtue of a common obedience; and without being compatriots they were all Romans”] (ch. 6 end, p. 80, where he is writing on another subject). When the whole world was a Roman citizen, Rome no longer had any citizens, and when a Roman citizen was the same as a Cosmopolite, there was no love for either Rome or the world. When love of country in Rome became cosmopolitan, it grew irrelevant, inactive, and null, and when Rome became the same as the world, it was no longer the homeland of anyone, and Roman citizens, once their homeland was the world, had no homeland, as the facts showed. (24 Dec. 1820.)
How much greater a part fear has in man than hope can also be seen from the following, that hope itself is the mother of fear, and so stronger spirits that are less inclined to fear become fearful in the face of hope, especially great hope. And man can scarcely hope without fear, and all the more so the greater is the hope. He who hopes fears, and the hopeless man fears nothing. But, vice versa, hope does not [459] arise from fear, although he who fears always hopes that the object of his fear will not come true. (26 Dec. 1820.) Observe that the passion in direct opposition to fear is hope. And yet it cannot exist without producing its opposite.
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