Sunday, February 24, 2019

Man Was Made To Mourn, by Robert Burns


When chill November's surly blast
Made fields and forests bare,
One ev'ning, as I wander'd forth
Along the banks of Ayr,
I spied a man, whose aged step
Seem'd weary, worn with care;
His face furrow'd o'er with years,
And hoary was his hair.

“Young stranger, whither wand'rest thou?”
 Began the rev'rend sage;
“Does thirst of wealth thy step constrain,
Or youthful pleasure's rage?
Or haply, prest with cares and woes,
Too soon thou hast began
To wander forth, with me to mourn
The miseries of man.

“The sun that overhangs yon moors,
Out-spreading far and wide,
Where hundreds labour to support
A haughty lordling's pride;—
I've seen yon weary winter-sun
Twice forty times return;
And ev'ry time has added proofs,
That man was made to mourn.

“O man! while in thy early years,
How prodigal of time!
Mis-spending all thy precious hours—
Thy glorious, youthful prime!
Alternate follies take the sway;
Licentious passions burn;
Which tenfold force gives Nature's law.
That man was made to mourn.

“Look not alone on youthful prime,
Or manhood's active might;
Man then is useful to his kind,
Supported in his right:
But see him on the edge of life,
With cares and sorrows worn;
Then Age and Want—oh! ill-match'd pair—
Shew man was made to mourn.

“A few seem favourites of fate,
In pleasure's lap carest;
Yet, think not all the rich and great
Are likewise truly blest:
But oh! what crowds in ev'ry land,
All wretched and forlorn,
Thro' weary life this lesson learn,
That man was made to mourn.

“Many and sharp the num'rous ills
Inwoven with our frame!
More pointed still we make ourselves,
Regret, remorse, and shame!
And man, whose heav'n-erected face
The smiles of love adorn,—
Man's inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn!

“See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight,
So abject, mean, and vile,
Who begs a brother of the earth
To give him leave to toil;
And see his lordly fellow-worm
The poor petition spurn,
Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife
And helpless offspring mourn.

“If I'm design'd yon lordling's slave,
By Nature's law design'd,
Why was an independent wish
E'er planted in my mind?
If not, why am I subject to
His cruelty, or scorn?
Or why has man the will and pow'r
To make his fellow mourn?

“Yet, let not this too much, my son,
Disturb thy youthful breast:
This partial view of human-kind
Is surely not the last!
The poor, oppressed, honest man
Had never, sure, been born,
Had there not been some recompense
To comfort those that mourn!

“O Death! the poor man's dearest friend,
The kindest and the best!
Welcome the hour my aged limbs
Are laid with thee at rest!
The great, the wealthy fear thy blow
From pomp and pleasure torn;
But, oh! a blest relief for those
That weary-laden mourn!”

Saturday, February 23, 2019

The Original Little Red Riding Hood by Andrew Lang


Andrew Lang produced a variant of the Little Red Riding Hood story which he calls "The True History of Little Goldenhood" in his The Red Fairy Book (1890). He derived it from the works of Charles Marelles, in Contes of Charles Marelles. This version explicitly states that the story had been mistold earlier. The girl is saved, but not by the huntsman....

The Original Little Red Riding Hood by Andrew Lang

Entitled: THE TRUE HISTORY OF LITTLE GOLDEN HOOD

YOU know the tale of poor Little Red Riding-hood, that the Wolf deceived and devoured, with her cake, her little butter can, and her Grandmother; well, the true story happened quite differently, as we know now. And first of all the little girl was called and is still called Little Golden-hood; secondly, it was not she, nor the good grand-dame, but the wicked Wolf who was, in the end, caught and devoured.

Only listen.

The story begins something like the tale.

There was once a little peasant girl, pretty and nice as a star in its season. Her real name was Blanchette, but she was more often called Little Golden-hood, on account of a wonderful little cloak with a hood, gold-and fire-coloured, which she always had on. This little hood was given her by her Grandmother, who was so old that she did not know her age; it ought to bring her good luck, for it was made of a ray of sunshine, she said. And as the good old woman was considered something of a witch, everyone thought the little hood rather bewitched too.

And so it was, as you will see.

One day the mother said to the child: `Let us see, my little Golden-hood, if you know now how to find your way by yourself. You shall take this good piece of cake to your Grandmother for a Sunday treat to-morrow. You will ask her how she is, and come back at once, without stopping to chatter on the way with people you don't know. Do you quite understand?'

`I quite understand,' replied Blanchette gaily. And off she went with the cake, quite proud of her errand.

But the Grandmother lived in another village, and there was a big wood to cross before getting there. At a turn of the road under the trees, suddenly `Who goes there?'

`Friend Wolf.'

He had seen the child start alone, and the villain was waiting to devour her; when at the same moment he perceived some wood-cutters who might observe him, and he changed his mind. Instead of falling upon Blanchette he came frisking up to her like a good dog.

'Tis you! my nice Little Golden-hood,' said he. So the little girl stops to talk with the Wolf, who, for all that, she did not know in the least.

`You know me, then!' said she; `what is your name?'

`My name is friend Wolf. And where are you going thus, my pretty one, with your little basket on your arm?'

`I am going to my Grandmother, to take her a good piece of cake for her Sunday treat to-morrow.'

`And where does she live, your Grandmother?'

`She lives at the other side of the wood, in the first house in the village, near the windmill, you know.'

`Ah! yes! I know now,' said the Wolf. `Well, that's just where I'm going; I shall get there before you, no doubt, with your little bits of legs, and I'll tell her you're coming to see her; then she'll wait for you.'

Thereupon the Wolf cuts across the wood, and in five minutes arrives at the Grandmother's house.

He knocks at the door: toc, toc.

No answer.

He knocks louder.

Nobody.

Then he stands up on end, puts his two fore-paws on the latch and the door opens.

Not a soul in the house.

The old woman had risen early to sell herbs in the town, and she had gone off in such haste that she had left her bed unmade, with her great night-cap on the pillow.

`Good!' said the Wolf to himself, `I know what I'll do.'

He shuts the door, pulls on the Grandmother's night-cap down to his eyes, then he lies down all his length in the bed and draws the curtains.

In the meantime the good Blanchette went quietly on her way, as little girls do, amusing herself here and there by picking Easter daisies, watching the little birds making their nests, and running after the butterflies which fluttered in the sunshine.

At last she arrives at the door.

Knock, knock.

`Who is there?' says the Wolf, softening his rough voice as best he can.

`It's me, Granny, your little Golden-hood. I'm bringing you a big piece of cake for your Sunday treat to-morrow.'

`Press your finger on the latch, then push and the door opens.'

`Why, you've got a cold, Granny,' said she, coming in.

`Ahem! a little, a little . . .' replies the Wolf, pretending to cough. `Shut the door well, my little lamb. Put your basket on the table, and then take off your frock and come and lie down by me: you shall rest a little.'

The good child undresses, but observe this! She kept her little hood upon her head. When she saw what a figure her Granny cut in bed, the poor little thing was much surprised.

`Oh!' cries she, `how like you are to friend Wolf, Grandmother!'

`That's on account of my night-cap, child,' replies the Wolf.

`Oh! what hairy arms you've got, Grandmother!'

`All the better to hug you, my child.'

`Oh! what a big tongue you've got, Grandmother!'

`All the better for answering, child.'

`Oh! what a mouthful of great white teeth you have, Grandmother!'

`That's for crunching little children with! `And the Wolf opened his jaws wide to swallow Blanchette.

But she put down her head crying:

`Mamma! Mamma!' and the Wolf only caught her little hood.

Thereupon, oh dear! oh dear! he draws back, crying and shaking his jaw as if he had swallowed red-hot coals.

It was the little fire-coloured hood that had burnt his tongue right down his throat.

The little hood, you see, was one of those magic caps that they used to have in former times, in the stories, for making oneself invisible or invulnerable.

So there was the Wolf with his throat burnt, jumping off the bed and trying to find the door, howling and howling as if all the dogs in the country were at his heels.

Just at this moment the Grandmother arrives, returning from the town with her long sack empty on her shoulder.

`Ah, brigand!' she cries, `wait a bit!' Quickly she opens her sack wide across the door, and the maddened Wolf springs in head downwards.

It is he now that is caught, swallowed like a letter in the post.

For the brave old dame shuts her sack, so; and she runs and empties it in the well, where the vagabond, still howling, tumbles in and is drowned.

`Ah, scoundrel! you thought you would crunch my little grandchild! Well, to-morrow we will make her a muff of your skin, and you yourself shall be crunched, for we will give your carcass to the dogs.'

Thereupon the Grandmother hastened to dress poor Blanchette, who was still trembling with fear in the bed.

`Well,' she said to her, `without my little hood where would you be now, darling?' And, to restore heart and legs to the child, she made her eat a good piece of her cake, and drink a good draught of wine, after which she took her by the hand and led her back to the house.

And then, who was it who scolded her when she knew all that had happened?

It was the mother.

But Blanchette promised over and over again that she would never more stop to listen to a Wolf, so that at last the mother forgave her.

And Blanchette, the Little Golden-hood, kept her word. And in fine weather she may still be seen in the fields with her pretty little hood, the colour of the sun.

But to see her you must rise early.

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Friday, February 22, 2019

More Wisdom from Schopenhauer

NO child under the age of fifteen should receive instruction in subjects which may possibly be the vehicle of serious error, such as philosophy, religion, or any other branch of knowledge where it is necessary to take large views; because wrong notions imbibed early can seldom be rooted out, and of all the intellectual faculties, judgment is the last to arrive at maturity. The child should give its attention either to subjects where no error is possible at all, such as mathematics, or to those in which there is no particular danger in making a mistake, such as languages, natural science, history, and so on. And in general, the branches of knowledge which are to be studied at any period of life should be such as the mind is equal to at that period and can perfectly understand. Childhood and youth form the time for collecting materials, for getting a special and thorough knowledge of individual and particular things. In those years it is too early to form views on a large scale; and ultimate explanations must be put off to a later date. The faculty of judgment, which cannot come into play without mature experience, should be left to itself; and care should be taken not to anticipate its action by inculcating prejudice, which will paralyze it forever.
........

THERE is an unconscious propriety in the way in which, in all European languages, the word person is commonly used to denote a human being. The real meaning of persona is a mask, such as actors were accustomed to wear on the ancient stage; and it is quite true that no one shows himself as he is, but wears his mask and plays his part. Indeed, the whole of our social arrangements may be likened to a perpetual comedy; and this is why a man who is worth anything finds society so insipid, while a blockhead is quite at home in it.
........

HATRED comes from the heart; contempt from the head; and neither feeling is quite within our control. For we cannot alter our heart; its bias is determined by motives; and our head deals with objective facts and applies to them rules which are immutable. Any given individual is the union of a particular heart with a particular head.
........

HATRED and contempt are diametrically opposed and mutually exclusive. There are even not a few cases where hatred of a person is rooted in nothing but forced esteem for his qualities. And besides, if a man sets out to hate all the miserable creatures he meets, he will not have much energy left for anything else; whereas he can despise them, one and all, with the greatest ease. True, genuine contempt is just the reverse of true, genuine pride; it keeps quite quiet and gives no sign of its existence. For if a man shows that he despises you, he signifies at least this much regard for you, that he wants to let you know how little he appreciates you; and his wish is dictated by hatred, which cannot exist with real contempt. On the contrary, if it is genuine, it is simply the conviction that the object of it is a man of no value at all. Contempt is not incompatible with indulgent and kindly treatment, and for the sake of one’s own peace and safety, this should not be omitted; it will prevent irritation; and there is no one who cannot do harm if he is roused to it. But if this pure, cold, sincere contempt ever shows itself, it will be met with the most truculent hatred; for the despised person is not in a position to fight contempt with its own weapons.
........

THERE is no doubt that many a man owes his good fortune in life solely to the circumstance that he has a pleasant way of smiling, and so wins the heart in his favor. However, the heart would do better to be careful, and to remember what Hamlet put down in his tablets—“that one may smile, and smile, and be a villain.”


NOT to go to the theatre is like making one’s toilet without a mirror. But it is still worse to take a decision without consulting a friend. For a man may have the most excellent judgment in all other matters, and yet go wrong in those which concern himself; because here the will comes in and deranges the intellect at once. Therefore let a man take counsel of a friend. A doctor can cure every one but himself; if he falls ill, he sends for a colleague.
........

EVERY parting gives a foretaste of death; every coming together again a foretaste of the resurrection. This is why even people who were indifferent to each other, rejoice so much if they come together again after twenty or thirty years’ separation.
........

OPINION is like a pendulum and obeys the same law. If it goes past the centre of gravity on one side, it must go a like distance on the other; and it is only after a certain time that it finds the true point at which it can remain at rest.
......

A MAN sees a great many things when he looks at the world for himself, and he sees them from many sides; but this method of learning is not nearly so short or so quick as the method which employs abstract ideas and makes hasty generalizations about everything. Experience, therefore, will be a long time in correcting preconceived ideas, or perhaps never bring its task to an end: for wherever a man finds that the aspect of things seems to contradict the general ideas he has formed, he will begin by rejecting the evidence it offers as partial and one-sided; nay, he will shut his eyes to it altogether and deny that it stands in any contradiction at all with his preconceived notions, in order that he may thus preserve them uninjured. So it is that many a man carries about a burden of wrong notions all his life long—crotchets, whims, fancies, prejudices, which at last become fixed ideas. The fact is that he has never tried to form his fundamental ideas for himself out of his own experience of life, his own way of looking at the world, because he has taken over his ideas ready made from other people; and this it is that makes him as it makes how many others!—so shallow and superficial.
.......

WEALTH, in the strict sense of the word, that is, great superfluity, can do little for our happiness; and many rich people feel unhappy just because they are without any true mental culture or knowledge, and consequently have no objective interests which would qualify them for intellectual occupations. For beyond the satisfaction of some real and natural necessities, all that the possession of wealth can achieve has a very small influence upon our happiness, in the proper sense of the word; indeed, wealth rather disturbs it, because the preservation of property entails a great many unavoidable anxieties.
......

IT occasionally happens that, for no particular reason, long-forgotten scenes suddenly start up in the memory. This may in many cases be due to the action of some hardly perceptible odor, which accompanied those scenes and now recurs exactly the same as before. For it is well known that the sense of smell is specially effective in awaking memories, and that in general it does not require much to rouse a train of ideas. And I may say, in passing, that the sense of sight is connected with the understanding, the sense of hearing with the reason, and, as we see in the present case, the sense of smell with the memory. Touch and taste are more material and dependent upon contact. They have no ideal side.
.......

CHEERFULNESS is a direct and immediate gain — the very coin, as it were, of happiness, and not, like all else, merely a check upon the bank; for it alone makes us immediately happy in the present moment, and that is the highest blessing for beings like us, whose existence is but an infinitesimal moment between two eternities. To secure and promote this feeling of cheerfulness should be the supreme aim of all our endeavors after happiness.
.......

THE greatest of follies is to sacrifice health for any other kind of happiness, whatever it may be, for gain, advancement, learning or fame, let alone, then, for fleeting sensual pleasures. Everything else should rather be postponed to it.
......

THE most general survey shows us that the two foes of human happiness are pain and boredom. We may go further, and say that in the degree in which we are fortunate enough to get away from the one, we approach the other. Life presents, in fact, a more or less violent oscillation between the two. The reason of this is that each of these two poles stands in a double antagonism to the other, external or objective, and inner or subjective. Needy surroundings and poverty produce pain; while, if a man is more than well off, he is bored. Accordingly, while the lower classes are engaged in a ceaseless struggle with need, in other words, with pain, the upper carry on a constant and often desperate battle with boredom. The inner or subjective antagonism arises from the fact that, in the individual, susceptibility to pain varies inversely with susceptibility to boredom, because susceptibility is directly proportionate to mental power.
......

THE reason why people of limited intellect are apt to be bored is that their intellect is absolutely nothing more than the means by which the motive power of the will is put into force: and whenever there is nothing particular to set the will in motion, it rests, and their intellect takes a holiday, because, equally with the will, it requires something external to bring it into play. The result is an awful stagnation of whatever power a man has —in a word, boredom.

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Tuesday, February 19, 2019

Old Cures for Cancer, Freckles, Baldness, etc


The following receipts written by DR. J. H. GUNN will be found of great value, especially in emergencies:

How to Cure Consumption.—Take one tablespoonful of tar, and the yolks of three hen's eggs, beat them well together. Dose, one tablespoonful morning, noon and night.

How to Cure Bad Breath.—Bad or foul breath will be removed by taking a teaspoonful of the following mixture after each meal: One ounce liquor of potassa, one ounce chloride of soda, one and one-half ounces phosphate of soda, and three ounces of water.
2. Chlorate of potash, three drachms; rose-water, four ounces. Dose, a tablespoonful four or five times daily.

How to Cure Cancer.—Boil down the inner bark of red and white oak to the consistency of molasses; apply as a plaster, shifting it once a week; or, burn red-oak bark to ashes; sprinkle it on the sore till it is eaten out; then apply a plaster of tar; or, take garget berries and leaves of stramonium; simmer them together in equal parts of neatsfoot oil and the tops of hemlock; mix well together, and apply it to the parts affected; at the same time make a tea of winter-green (root and branch); put a handful into two quarts of water; add two ounces of sulphur and drink of this tea freely during the day.

How to Cure Cold.—Take three cents' worth of liquorice, three of rock candy, three of gum arabic, and put them into a quart of water; simmer them till thoroughly then add three cents' worth paregoric, and a like quantity of antimonial wine.

Cure for Deafness.—Take ant's eggs and union juice. Mix and drop them into the ear. Drop into the ear, at night, six or eight drops of hot sweet oil.

Remedies for Diarrhoea.—1. Take one teaspoonful of salt, the same of good vinegar, and a tablespoonful of water; mix and drink. It acts like a charm on the system, and even one dose will generally cure obstinate cases of diarrhoea, or the first stages of cholera. If the first does not bring complete relief, repeat the dose, as it is quite harmless. 2. The best rhubarb root, pulverized, 1 ounce; peppermint leaf, 1 ounce, capsicum, 1/8 ounce; cover with boiling water and steep thoroughly, strain, and add bicarbonate of potash and essence of cinnamon, of each 1/2 ounce; with brandy (or good whisky); equal in amount to the whole, and loaf sugar, four ounces. Dose—for an adult, 1 or 2 tablespoons; for a child, 1 to 2 teaspoons, from 3 to 6 times per day, until relief is obtained. 3. To half a bushel of blackberries; well mashed, add a quarter of a pound of allspice, 2 ounces of cinnamon, 2 ounces of cloves; pulverize well, mix and boil slowly until properly done; then strain or squeeze the juice through home-spun or flannel, and add to each pint of the juice 1 pound of loaf sugar, boil again for some time, take it off, and while cooling, add half a gallon of the best Cognac brandy.

Cure for Chronic Diarroea.—Rayer recommends the association of cinchona, charcoal and bismuth in the treatment of chronic diarrh a, in the following proportions: Subnitrate of bismuth, one drachm; cinchona, yellow, powdered, one-half drachm; charcoal, vegetable, one drachm. Make twenty powders and take two or three a day during the intervals between meals.

Cure for Drunkenness.—- The following singular means of curing habitual drunkenness is employed by a Russian physician. Dr. Schreiber, of Brzese Litewski: It consists in confining the drunkard in a room, and in furnishing him at discretion with his favorite spirit diluted with two-thirds of water; as much wine, beer and coffee as he desires, but containing one-third of spirit: all the food—the bread, meat, and the legumes are steeped in spirit and water. The poor devil is continually drunk and dort. On the fifth day of this regime he has an extreme disgust for spirit; he earnestly requests other diet: but his desire must not be yielded to until the poor wretch no longer desires to eat or drink: he is then certainly cured of his penchant for drunkenness. He acquires such a disgust for brandy or other spirits that he is ready to vomit at the very sight of it.

How to Remove Freckles.—Freckles; so persistently regular in their annual return, have annoyed the fair sex from time immemorial, and various means have been devised to eradicate them, although thus far with no decidedly satisfactory results. The innumerable remedies in use for the removal of these vexatious intruders, are either simple and harmless washes, such as parsley or horseradish water, solutions of borax, etc., or injurious nostrums, consisting principally of lead and mercury salts.
If the exact cause of freckles were known, a remedy for them might be found. A chemist in Moravia, observing the bleaching effect of mercurial preparations, inferred that the growth of a local parasitical fungus was the cause of the discoloration of the skin, which extended and ripened its spores in the warmer season. Knowing that sulpho-carbolate of zinc is a deadly enemy to all parasitic vegetation (itself not being otherwise injurious), he applied this salt for the purpose of removing the freckles. The compound consists of two parts of sulpho-carbolate of zinc, twenty-five parts of distilled glycerine, twenty-five parts of rose-water, and five parts of scented alcohol, and is to be applied twice daily for from half an hour to an hour, then washed off with cold water. Protection against the sun by veiling and other means is recommended, and in addition, for persons of pale complexion, some mild preparation of iron.

Preparation for the Cure of Baldness.—Rum, one pint; alcohol, one ounce; distilled water, one ounce, tincture of cantharides, a half drachm; carbonate of potash, a half drachm; carbonate of ammonia, one drachm. Mix the liquids after having dissolved the salts, and filter. After the skin of the head has been wetted with this preparation for several minutes, it should be washed with water.

Sunday, February 17, 2019

Death, the Great Equalizer


"All men are equal when their memory fades."
— Motörhead, "Deaf Forever"

"After the game, the king and pawn go into the same box."
— Italian proverb

The Glories of Our Blood and State by James Shirley (1596-1666)

The glories of our blood and state
     Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armour against Fate;
     Death lays his icy hand on kings:
               Sceptre and Crown
               Must tumble down,
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.

Some men with swords may reap the field,
     And plant fresh laurels where they kill:
But their strong nerves at last must yield;
     They tame but one another still:
               Early or late
               They stoop to fate,
And must give up their murmuring breath
When they, pale captives, creep to death.

The garlands wither on your brow;
     Then boast no more your mighty deeds!
Upon Death's purple altar now
      See where the victor-victim bleeds.
               Your heads must come
               To the cold tomb:
Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet and blossom in their dust.

Monday, February 11, 2019

Greek And Roman Mythology Compared, By Francis W. Kelsey


Greek And Roman Mythology Compared, By Francis W. Kelsey Ph.D 1889

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Character Of The Greek And The Roman Mythology.

The Greek and the Roman Mythology, though often confused, should be kept distinct. Both Greeks and Romans no doubt inherited from the Indo-European parent-folk a common fund of mythological conceptions. But these took shape in accordance with the peculiar genius, surroundings, and development of each people, with results widely different.

The Greek was by nature highly imaginative, speculative, versatile, and poetic. He had, above all, an inborn feeling for symmetry, for perfect proportion in parts and relations. The early life of the Greek race lay in regions where the diversity and striking character of the natural phenomena must continually have aroused a feeling of wonder and have stimulated the fancy. The lands about the Aegean Sea present every variety of landscape. Rugged mountain ranges alternate with narrow valleys and rolling plains. The extended coast-line is everywhere indented by inlets, with islands in the distance or near by. These conditions produce an endless variety of atmospheric changes. Here one finds dawn and twilight, hazy vistas and storm-scenes, of matchless beauty and impressiveness. Endowed with such a genius, and placed amid such surroundings, the Greeks naturally developed a highly poetic mythology.

The earliest literary embodiment of the Greek myths is in the poems of Homer and Hesiod. Here they appear in their simplest and most naive form. The gods are believed in as real existences, of unwearied activity, having intimate relations with the life of man. In the most flourishing period of Greek history — the century after the Persian wars — the myths were still accepted, but began to lose their hold upon the educated classes. Men of culture treated them reverently, but often gave them a rationalistic or allegorical interpretation. Nevertheless, they were intimately connected with the beliefs of the national religion. Being thus an essential part of the national thought and life, they permeated literature, and furnished ideals for the noblest sculpture that the world has ever seen. Afterwards they were more and more discredited, and sometimes ridiculed. Though certain forms and ceremonies of religion tended still to lend to them an air of credence, they were treated in literature chiefly as stock material for poetry.

The Greek mythology stands alone among all as the fullest, richest, most poetic, and most suggestive. It also reveals more clearly the national traits of the people which developed it than any other system. From a very early time the commercial and political relations of Greeks with orientals had tended to introduce foreign mythological conceptions, some of which, in a modified form, at last gained acceptance. Yet, as a whole, the Greek mythology is of indigenous growth, — a monument of the inherent constructive and artistic power of the Greek race. Its influence in literature has been greater than that of any other body of myths. First, it dominated the thought of the Greeks, and found expression also in their immortal art. Then it became the heritage of Rome. Finally, inwrought in the literatures of all European and western nations, it remains a treasured and imperishable possession of mankind.

The early Roman presented in all respects a contrast with the Greek. Unimaginative, practical, narrow, and conservative, he viewed the beauties of nature with no kindling enthusiasm, and contemplated her mysteries with comparative indifference. His surroundings were less calculated to inspire poetic emotion than were those of the Greek. The landscapes were less rugged and impressive, the coast-line monotonous. In accordance with his practical tendencies, he gave more thought to devising and practising methods of propitiating his gods, than to imagining what their relations were with one another or with himself. In a word, the Roman's notions of the Divine took the direction of worship rather than of myth-making. The same is true of the other ancient Italian peoples of the same stock as the Romans.

The native Roman mythology, therefore, is scanty. Compared with the Greek, it is matter-of-fact and barren. Its place was taken in the people's thought by minute ritualistic regulations, with numberless prayers and incantations adapted to all occasions. Every part of the body, every act and incident of daily life, was supposed to be under the supervision of a special divinity; but the very multiplicity and limited province of the deities retarded the development of myths. For the same reasons, also, the Romans produced no great folk-epic, like the Iliad or the Niebelungen Lied.

In Mythology, as in literature and the arts, the Romans borrowed freely from other nations. At an early time they were no doubt much influenced by contact with the neighboring Etruscans. In the Republican period their relations with the Greeks became close, first through the Greek colonies in Magna Graecia, then through commercial and political connections with the cities of Asia Minor and Greece. The worship of many Greek divinities was introduced. With these came the whole body of Greek mythology. In many instances a Greek god was identified with a Roman and the myths of the one ascribed to the other. As educated Romans became saturated with the Greek culture, the Greek myths came to be as familiar to them as their own, and consequently occupy as prominent a place in the Roman literature as in the Greek.

The old gods remained too firmly intrenched in the affections of the common folk to be replaced by foreign deities; but only occasionally did Roman authors attempt to treat the native myths, as Varro did in prose, and Ovid in his 'Calendar,' to some extent also in the last two books of the 'Metamorphoses.' In later times, especially after the commencement of the Christian era, the Romans turned to the worship of Egyptian and other strange divinities.

The early Roman no doubt believed devoutly in his gods and what was said of them. But with the Greek mythology came also the seeds of unbelief. The forms of the state religion at Rome were kept up, as a matter of policy, for several centuries after the majority of those belonging to the higher classes of society had ceased to believe in their efficacy. The Roman writers, like those of the later Greek literature, found their chief interest in the myths as material for poetic treatment.

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Sunday, February 10, 2019

Ayn Rand: Sovietologist


Whatever one thinks of Ayn Rand as a novelist, it is fair to say that her books, especially Atlas Shrugged, contain a great deal of sophisticated political and economic thinking. Atlas Shrugged may well be the most economically literate novel ever written. Although Rand does not couch her points in the language of economic theory, there is much in Atlas Shrugged that is consistent with sound economics.  This should not be surprising given that her favorite economist was Ludwig von Mises. Moreover, her chapter “Aristocracy of Pull” is chock full of excellent political economy that fits well with Public Choice economics as well as the long history of classical liberalism dating back at least to Adam Smith. The famous “Love of Money” speech by Francisco D’Anconia contains many astute observations about the nature of money and its role in a market economy.

Less noted in this regard is Rand’s first novel, We the Living. This is a semiautobiographical story set in Russia just after the revolution of 1917. The particulars of the plot are not as interesting in this context as the level of detail Rand provides about life in the Soviet Union in the early years of communist rule. I recently reread it for the first time in 20 or 25 years and was struck by the sophistication of Rand’s analysis of the Soviet economy in practice. Unlike most contemporary western observers, she had first-hand knowledge of the terrible conditions and the reality of Soviet power.

Three Insights
Three insights in We the Living illustrate Rand’s superior understanding of Soviet socialism. First she recognized what has since been called “the myth of the plan.” If Mises, F. A. Hayek, and the other Austrians are right, it’s impossible to plan a complex economy, yet many referred to the Soviet Union as having a “planned economy” right up to its demise in 1991. A variety of plot details and sidelights in Rand’s novel illustrates that the economy was anything but planned, with the two most obvious being how Party insiders had differential access to goods and the thriving black market. Those “in charge” of the economy are accurately portrayed as clueless about how to get things done, while the black marketeers at least get goods moving. Although she never says so explicitly, it’s clear that the “planners” suffer from the exact knowledge problem the Austrians raised.

Second, the novel makes clear that in the absence of any rationality to the plan, those with the power to implement it will use that power to divert resources to themselves. More specifically, Rand understood how a system in which discretionary power is up for grabs will attract those with a comparative advantage in acquiring and using that power. Much of her portrayal of party members revolves around their competition with one another in climbing the ladder — no one hesitating to stab his comrades in the back. Those who are good at such maneuverings are able to gain power and control resources. In the end, much like in Animal Farm, things didn’t change that much: The revolution ended the exploitation of man by man and replaced it with . . . the exploitation of man by man.

Declining Living Standards
Finally, Rand vividly documents the decline in living standards for the average Russian. There are countless descriptions of the impoverishment of the citizenry, from their shrinking living space, to their dwindling food supplies, to their increasingly shabby clothing, to their growing inability to heat their homes. The party elite, of course, lives well, but the average person suffers. Rand’s depiction is important here because so many observers from the 1930s right up through the 1980s argued that the Soviet economy was an economic powerhouse that would overtake America’s. Paul Samuelson’s widely used introductory economics textbook for years had a graph showing just that. Pundits and experts both left and right believed the “official” Soviet statistics, with the left wanting to believe that socialism worked and the right wanting to justify larger military budgets. But just as in the United States during World War II, aggregates such as GDP, which in the Soviet case were not accurate anyway, mostly reflected “conspicuous production” that had little relationship to the well-being of the typical person.

We the Living makes this abundantly clear.
Rand’s novels may or may not be excellent literature, but they are excellent both at deploying good political economy and, in the case of We the Living, getting economic history right in a way most everyone else did not.
Steven Horwitz
Steven Horwitz
Steven Horwitz is the Distinguished Professor of Free Enterprise in the Department of Economics at Ball State University, where he also is a Fellow at the Institute for Entrepreneurship and Free Enterprise. He is the author of Hayek’s Modern Family: Classical Liberalism and the Evolution of Social Institutions.
This article was originally published on FEE.org. Read the original article.

Saturday, February 9, 2019

The Red Men from Nutfield by Sylvanus Brown 1869


Alternatively titled: The Rejected Poem of A.D. 1869

The red men from Nutfield have melted away,
There are none left to join us in worship today;
We find their spent arrows, but never a bone,
And the place of their graves here, to us is unknown.

Our sires bought their land here, some good twelve miles square,
And held from their Sachem a title-deed fair:
So they with our fathers were never at war.
For oppression and plunder all good men abhor.

They gathered for worship beneath an oak tree,
And the spot is still marked with a stone, as we see,
And raising their hearts and their voices in prayer,
Invoked His protection who first led them there.

They'd no lute, harp or fiddle, their voices to aid,
Yet raised their glad anthems to God in the shade;
They had no pealing organ their voices to drown,
And 'twere well were there no wooden singers in town.

McGregor his flock like a shepherd did feed-,
A shining exemplar in word and in deed;
He led them in worship and joined them in work,
Nor did their good pastor from field labor shirk.

They bad one way of worship and went to one place,
Nor split into parties themselves to disgrace;
They gave thanks at their meals and had family prayer,
And on Lord's day to meeting would mostly repair.

No hireling performers devoured the flock,
For pastor and people were built on the Rock,
Jesus Christ their foundation, who died for our race,
And whose love all the Gentiles and Jews did embrace.

They were called the Scotch-Irish, no matter the name,
Or whether from Shem, Ham, or Japhet they came;
They were plain working people and ate their own bread,
The naked they clothed, the hungry they fed.

When the land they had purchased they farming begun,
They smote down the forests and let in the sun.
They made them log cabins, and Gregg built a mill,
Where sawing and grinding are carried on still.

They planted them orchards, and good cider made,
And wielded the ax, the plow and the spade.
The hoe and the scythe, the pitch-fork and rake,
And all but the lazy good living could make.

They raised good potatoes, good flax and good corn,
And some as smart babies as ever was born;
And mothers were fruitful, the daughters were fair,
And sons in field labor with fathers would share.

The girls spun and wove, and nice garments they made,
Whole families then were in homespun arrayed,
Working well their farm products of flax and of wool,
All teachers or scholars in labor's high school.

Invisible now, yet they present may be,
This numerous host of descendants to see.
And when rightly we feel and justly we do,
May joy with the angels such actions to view.

Then welcome to us this memorial day;
Ere the like shall return we shall most pass away,
To mingle with spirits akin to our own,
To see as we're seen and to know as we're known.

Lord, save us from pride and all vain, empty show,
Uphold us and cheer us and guide as we go,
And when the dark waves of death's river are passed,
With the just and the holy receive us at last.

All modern inventions our sires never knew:
Their virtues mere many, their vices were few;
Unknown were steam travel and telegraphs then,
But those were the days when New Hampshire raised men.

To think and let think, to live and let live,
Is the doctrine to teach and the freedom to give;
To speak and let speak, each in turn, one by one,
Is the true way of worship since worship begun.

There's none but false prophets such course will reject,
For they all the persons of men will respect,
The ring and gay clothing they give the chief place,
And practices partial their meetings disgrace.

Not so with the fathers, they hated the priest,
And hireling false prophet that rode on the beast;
The merchants of Babylon, sons of the whore.
And for freedom in worship they came to the shore.

We welcome all nations and colors today,
Nor that one than another is better will say,
For the Jews and the Gentiles have natures alike,
And should for fair freedom unitedly strike.

We pray that our brethren in every place,
May learn of their Saviour and share in His grace,
That king-craft and priest-craft, and error may fall,
And Christ our Redeemer become all in all.
  Glory to God forever. Amen. June 10, A. D. 1869.

After the receipt of this reply Mr. Brown printed the correspondence, together with his prepared poem for the occasion,-on a quarto sheet, and gratutiously distributed it to the people assembled.

The poem which was written for the occasion by Lucinda J Gregg, and which was read by a former pastor and resident, was printed in "The Londonderry Celebration; 150th Anniversary of the Settlement of Old Nutfield, N. H., June 10, 1869," (p. 13), compiled by Robert C. Mack, 1869. It has been reprinted also in "Willey's Book of Nutfield," (p. 106); now in press and to be published early in 1896. It has been reprinted here on the next page so that the two poems can be read together.

Sunday, February 3, 2019

On the Indestructibility of our True Nature at Death by Arthur Schopenhauer


On the Indestructibility of our True Nature at Death by Arthur Schopenhauer

When in daily intercourse it is asked by one of those many people who wish to know everything, but do not want to learn anything, as to continued existence after death, the most suitable and indeed, in the first instance, the most correct answer is: “After your death you will be what you were before your birth.” For it implies the wrong-headedness of the demand that a species of existence which has a beginning shall be without end, besides containing the implication that there may be two kinds of being and two kinds of nothing according with it. Similarly one might answer, “Whatever you will be after your death, even if it be nothing, will be just as natural and suitable to you as your individual organic existence is now, thus you will have at most to fear the moment of transition. Yes, since a mature consideration of the matter affords the result, that complete non-existence would be preferable to an existence such as ours. Thus the thought of the cessation of our existence, or of a time when we shall no longer be, ought, as far as reason goes, to trouble us as little as the thought of the time when we were not. But since the existence is essentially a personal one the end of the personality is not to be regarded as a loss.”

To him, on the contrary, who on the objective and empirical path had pursued the plausible clue of materialism, and now full of alarm at complete destruction by death which confronts him therein, turns to us, we should perhaps procure for him satisfaction in the shortest way and one most suited to his empirical mode of thought, if we demonstrated to him the distinction between matter and the metaphysical force which is always temporarily taking possession of it; as, for example, in birds, where the homogeneous formless fluidity as soon as it attains the requisite temperature, assumes the complicated and exactly determined shape of the genus and species of its bird. This is indeed, to a certain extent, a kind of generatio aequivoca, and it is exceedingly probable that the hierarchical series of animal forms arose from the fact that once in primitive times and in a happy hour it overleapt the type of animal to which the egg belonged, to a higher one. At all events something distinct from matter appears here most prominently, especially in that by the least unfavourable circumstance it comes to nothing. In this way it becomes explicable that after an operation that has been completed or subsequently prevented it can deviate from it without injury, a fact which points to a totally different permanence than that of the persistence of matter in time.

If we conceive of a being which knew, understood, and saw everything, the question whether we endure after death would probably have no meaning for such a one, since beyond our present temporal individual existence enduring and ceasing would have no significance, and would be indistinguishable conceptions. And accordingly neither the concept of destruction nor that of continuance, would have any application, since these are borrowed from

time, which is merely the form of the phenomenon. In the meantime we can only think of the indestructibility of this core of our phenomenon as a continuance of it, and indeed, properly speaking, only according to the schema of matter which under all changes of its form maintains itself in time. If we deny it this continuance we regard our temporal end as an annihilation according to the schema of form which vanishes when the matter in which it inheres is taken away from it. Both are nevertheless metábasis eis állo génos, that is, a transference of the forms of the phenomenon to the thing-in-itself. But of an indestructibility which would be no continuance we can hardly form even an abstract idea, since all perception by which we might confirm it fails us. In truth however the constant arising of new beings and the perishing of those already existent is to be regarded as an illusion produced by the apparatus of two polished lenses (brain-functions), by which alone we can see anything. They are called space and time, and in their reciprocal interpenetration—causality. For all that we perceive under these conditions is mere phenomenon; but we do not know the things as they may be in themselves, that is independently of our perception. This is properly the kernel of the Kantian philosophy which, together with its content, one cannot too often call to mind in a period when venal charlatanry has by its stupefying process driven philosophy from Germany with the willing assistance of people for whom truth and intelligence are the most indifferent things in the world, and wage and salary the most important.

How can we suppose on beholding the death of a human being that a thing-in-itself here comes to nothing? That a phenomenon in time, that form of all phenomena, finds its end without the thing-in-itself being thereby affected is an immediate intuitive cognition of every man; hence men have endeavoured to give utterance to it at all times, in the most diverse forms and expressions, but these are all derived from the phenomenon in its special sense and only have reference thereto. Everyone feels that he is something different from a being who has once been created from nothing by another being. In this way the assurance arises within him that although death can make an end of his life it cannot make an end of his existence. Man is something else than an animated nothing; and the animal also. He who thinks his existence is limited to his present life regards himself as an animated nothing. For thirty years ago he was nothing and thirty years hence he will be again nothing.

The more clearly one is conscious of the transience, nothingness and dream-like nature of all things, by so much the more clearly is one conscious also of the eternity of one's own inner nature. For only in opposition to this is the foregoing structure of things known, as the rapid motion of the ship one is on, is only perceived when one looks towards the fixed shore and not when one looks at the ship itself.

The present has two halves, an objective and a subjective. The objective alone has the perception of time for its form, and hence rolls ceaselessly forward. From this arises our vivid recollection of what is very long past, and the consciousness of our imperishability, in spite of our knowledge of the transience of our existence.

Everyone thinks that his innermost core is something that the present contains and carries about with it. Whenever we may happen to live we always stand with our consciousness in the centre of time, never at its terminations; and we might assume from this that everyone bore within himself the immovable centre of infinite time. This is, moreover, at bottom what gives him the confidence with which he lives on without continual fear of death. But whoever by virtue of the strength of his memory and imagination can recall the most vividly the long past of his own life, will become more clearly conscious than others of the identity of the now in all time. Perhaps, indeed, this proposition is more correct taken conversely. But at all events such a clearer consciousness of the identity of all now is an essential requirement of the philosophic mind. By means of it we apprehend that which is most fleeting— the now—as the only persistent. He who is in this intuitive way aware that the present moment, which is the only form of all reality in the narrowest sense, has its source in us, and springs, that is, from within and not from without, cannot doubt of the indestructibility of his own nature. He will rather understand that by his death the objective world, indeed, with the medium of its presentment, the intellect, perishes for him, but that this does not touch his existence, for there was as much reality within as without. He will say with complete understanding: EGO EIMI PAN TO GEGONOS, KAI ON, KAI ESOMENON (“Stob. Floril. Tit.” 44, 42; vol. ii. p. 201).

He who does not admit this to be true must maintain the opposite, and say: “Time is something purely objective and real, which exists quite independently of me. I am only accidentally thrown into it, have only become participant in a small portion of it, whereby I have attained to a transient reality like thousands of others before me who are now no more, and I shall also very soon be nothing. Time, on the contrary, is the Real. It goes further without me.”

In accordance with all this, life may certainly be regarded as a dream and death as an awakening. But then the personality, the individual, belongs to the dreaming and not to the waking consciousness, for which reason death presents itself to the former as annihilation. It is still, at all events from this standpoint, not to be regarded as the transition to a state entirely new and strange to us, but rather only as the return to our original one, of which life was only a short episode. If in the meantime a philosopher should, perhaps, think that he would find in dying a consolation peculiar to him alone, or at least a diversion, and that then a problem would be resolved for him which had so frequently occupied him, we can only say that it will probably fare with him as with one, who as he is about to find what he is seeking, has his lantern blown out.

For in death the consciousness assuredly perishes, but not by any means that which till then had produced it. The consciousness namely rests immediately on the intellect, but the latter on the physiological process. For it is obviously the function of the brain, and hence conditioned by the co-operation of the nerve and cellular system, though more directly by the brain, which is nourished, animated, and continuously agitated by the heart. It is by the artistic and mysterious construction of the brain as described by anatomy, but which physiology does not understand, that the phenomenon of the objective world and the trend of our thoughts is brought about. An individual consciousness, that is, a consciousness as such, cannot be conceived in an incorporeal being, since knowledge, the condition of every consciousness, is necessarily brain-function—for the simple reason that the intellect objectively manifests itself as brain. Now as intellect appears physiologically—that is, in empirical reality or in the phenomenon—as a secondary, as a result of the process of life, so it is also psychologically secondary in opposition to the Will which is alone the primary and ever the original. The organism itself is really only the Will displaying itself perceptually and objectively in the brain, and therefore in its forms of space and time, as I have often explained, especially in “Will in Nature,” and in my chief work (vol. ii. chap. xx.). Since, then, the consciousness is not immediately dependent upon the Will, but this is conditioned by the intellect, and this again by the organism, there remains no doubt that consciousness is extinguished by death, as also by sleep and swoons. [It would certainly be very pleasant if the intellect did not perish with death: one would then bring the Greek which one had learnt in this world all ready with one into the other.] But let us be consoled! For what kind of a consciousness is this? A cerebral, an animal consciousness—one a little more highly developed than that of the beasts, in so far as we have it as regards all essentials in common with the whole series of animals although it attains its summit in us. It is the same, as I have sufficiently demonstrated, with respect to its purpose and origin—a mere MHCHANH/mechane of nature, a means of knowing how to help the animal nature to its requirements. The state, on the contrary, into which death throws us back is our original state—that is, it is the state peculiar to our nature, whose original force displays itself in the production and maintenance of the life that is now ceasing. It is, in short, the state of the thing-in-itself in opposition to the phenomenon. Now in this primal state such an assistance as the cerebral, a cognition so extremely mediate, and for this reason merely supplying phenomena, is without doubt entirely superfluous; hence we lose it. Its disappearance is the same as the cessation of the phenomenal world for us, of which it was the mere medium, and can serve for nothing else. If in this our original state the retention of the animal consciousness were even offered us, we should reject it as the lame man who is cured does the crutch. He therefore who bemoans the loss in question of this cerebral consciousness, which is merely phenomenal and adapted to the phenomenal, is to be compared to the converted Greenlanders who did not wish for heaven when they heard that there were no seals there.

Moreover, all that is here said rests on the assumption that we cannot even conceive of a now-conscious state except as a knowing one, which therefore bears the root-form of all knowledge—the separation of subject and object, of a knowing and a known. But we have to consider that this entire form of knowing and being known is conditioned merely by our animal, and hence very secondary and derived, nature, and is thus in no way the original state of all being and all existence, which may therefore be quite different, and yet not without consciousness. If then our own present nature, so far as we are able to trace it to its core, is mere Will; and this in itself is a knowingless thing; when through death we sacrifice the intellect, we are only thereby transplanted into our original consciousless state, which is therefore not simply consciousless, but rather above and beyond this form—a state in which the antithesis of subject and object disappears, because here that which is to be known would be really and immediately one with the knowing, and thus the fundamental condition of all knowing (which is precisely this opposition) would be wanting. Herewith may be compared by way of elucidation “The World as Will and Presentment,” vol. ii. p. 273 (3rd ed. 310). The utterance of Giordano Bruno (ed. Wagner, vol. i. p. 287): “La divina mente, e la unità assoluta, senza specie alcuna è ella medesimo lo ch'e intende, e loch'e inteso.”

Perhaps every one is now and then aware in his innermost heart of a consciousness that would be suited to an entirely different kind of existence than this so unspeakably beggarly, timely, individual one, occupied as it is altogether with misery; on which occasions he thinks that death might lead him to such a one.

If we now in opposition to this mode of contemplation which is directed inwards, again turn our attention outwards and apprehend the world displaying itself objectively, death will then certainly appear to us a passage into nothing: But birth also none the less as a proceeding out of nothing. The one like the other, however, cannot be unconditionally true since it only has the reality of the phenomenon. That in some sense we should survive death is really no greater miracle than that of generation which we daily see before our eyes. What dies goes hence, where all life comes from, its own included. In this sense the Egyptians called Orchus Amanthus, which, according to Plutarch (“de Is. et Osir,” c. 29), signifies “the taker and giver,” in order to express that it is the same source into which everything returns and from which everything proceeds. From this point of view our life might be regarded as a loan received from death; sleep would then be the daily interest on this loan. Death announces itself without any concealment as the end of the individual, but in this individual lies the germ of a new being. Hence nothing of all that dies, dies for ever. But neither does anything that is born receive a fundamentally new existence. The dying perishes but a germ remains over from which proceeds a new being which now enters into existence without knowing whence it comes and why it is exactly such as it is. This is the mystery of the Palingenesis for the explanation of which the 42nd chapter of the 2nd volume of my chief work may be consulted. It appears from this that all beings at this moment living contain the true germ of all that will live in the future, which are thus to a certain extent already there. Similarly every animal existing in its full perfection seems to cry out to us: “Why dost thou complain of the perishability of the living? How could I exist if all those of my species which were before me had not died?” However much, therefore, the pieces and the masks on the stage of the world change, the Actors remain the same in all. We sit together and talk and excite each other and eyes gleam and voices become louder; exactly so others have sat thousands of years ago; it was the same, and they were the same. Just so will it be thousands of years hence. The arrangement owing to which we are not aware of this, is time.

One might very well distinguish Metempsychosis as the passage of the entire so-called soul into another body—and Palingenesis as the decomposition and reformation of this individual, inasmuch as his Will persists and assuming the shape of a new being receives a new intellect. Thus the individual decomposes like a neutral salt, the basis of which combines itself with another acid into a new salt. The difference between Metempsychosis and Palingenesis which Servius the commentator of Virgil assumes, and which is shortly indicated in “Wernsdorffii dissertat de Metempsychosi,” p. 48, is obviously fallacious and nugatory.

From Spencer Hardy’s “Manual of Buddhism” (pp. 394-96 with which may be compared pp. 429, 440, 445, in the same book), also from Sangermano’s “Burmese Empire” as well as from the “Asiatic Researches,” vol. vi., p. 179, and vol. ix., p. 256, it appears that in Buddhism an exoteric and esoteric doctrine obtains regarding continuance after death. The former is Metempsychosis as in Brahminism but the latter is a Palingenesis much more difficult of comprehension, which is very much in agreement with my doctrine of the Metaphysical existence of the Will, of the merely physical structure of the intellect, and the perishability which accords with it. PALIGGENESIA occurs in the Old Testament.

But if, in order to penetrate deeper into the mystery of Palingenesis we seek aid from the 43rd chapter of the 2nd vol. of my chief work, the matter, more closely considered, will appear to be that throughout all time the male sex has been the bearer of the Will, the female of the Intellect of the human race, whereby it receives perpetual subsistence. Every one, therefore, has a paternal and a maternal element, and as these are united in generation they are also separated in death, which is thus the end of the individual. This individual it is whose death we so much deplore with the feeling that it is really lost, since it was a mere combination which irrevocably ceases. But we must not forget in all this, that the transmissability of the Intellect of the mother is not so decided and unconditioned as that of the Will of the father, on account of the secondary and merely physical nature of the intellect and its complete dependence on the organism, not only in respect of the brain but also otherwise, as has been shown by me in the chapter in question. I may mention here by the way that I so far agree with Plato in that he also distinguishes in his so-called soul, a mortal and an immortal part. But he comes into diametrical opposition with me and with the truth, in that he, after the manner of all philosophers who have preceded me, regards the intellect as the immortal, and the Will, that is, the seat of the appetites and passions, as the mortal part; as may be seen from the “Timaeus” (pp. 386, 387, 395, ed. Bip.). Aristotle has the same idea." [In the “De Anima” (I. 4, p. 408), his real opinion escapes accidentally at the beginning that the NOUS is the true and immortal soul—which he confirms with fallacious assertions. Hatred and love belong not to the soul, but to their organ the perishable part.]

But though the physical may strangely and wonderfully rule things by procreation and death, together with the visible combination of individuals out of Will and Intellect and their subsequent dissolution, yet the metaphysical principle lying at its basis is of so entirely heterogeneous a nature that it is not affected by it, so on this point we may be consoled.

One can accordingly conceive every man from two opposite points of view: from the one, he is an individual beginning and ending in time, fleeting and transitory, SKIAS ONAP besides being heavily burdened with failings and pains. From the other, he is the indestructible original being which objectivises itself in everything existent, and may, as such, say, like the statue of Isis at Sais: EGO EIMI PAN TO GEGONOS, KAI ON, KAI ESOMENON. Such a being might indeed do something better than manifest itself in a world like this. For this is the finite world of sorrow and of death. What is in it, and what comes out of it must end and die. But what is not of it, and what never will be of it, pierces through it, all-powerful like a flash of lightning, which strikes upward, and knows neither time nor death. To unite all these antitheses is properly the theme of my philosophy.

Friday, February 1, 2019

Ayn Rand Resources Online


In anticipation of novelist Ayn Rand's birthday on February 2 (she was born in 1905) I decided to scour the Net to look for Ayn Rand resources. I have listed what I found below. You may have to hurry before they are taken down. I did not post any of these books, these are simply books I found in my online travels:

The Ayn Rand Lexicon

Atlas Shrugged

The Fountainhead

Anthem

We the Living by Ayn Rand Audiobook

Ayn Rand Myths

Ayn Rand, Philosophy: Who Needs It (Audiobook)

Why Businessmen Need Phillosophy by Ayn Rand Audiobook

The Romantic Manifesto (Audio)

Ayn Rand & the Prophecy of Atlas Shrugged

For The New Intellectual

The Virtue Of Selfishness

Capitalism: The Unknown Ideal

Ayn Rand - Capitalism: The Unknown Ideal Audiobook 2/2

Address To The Graduating Class Of
The United States Military Academy at West Point
New York — March 6, 1974

We The Living - 1942 - Ayn Rand (Movie)

The Psychology of Self Esteem by Dr. Nathaniel Branden

Six Pillars of Self-Esteem by Nathaniel Branden

Basic Principles of Objectivism by Nathaniel Branden

Discovering Ayn Rand: Modern Essays on Her Life & Ideas