Essays and Dialogues

by Giacomo Leopardi

Elean. I do not doubt it. The few years that have passed since the world began are, I agree with you, quite insufficient to complete our education. We cannot judge from what seem to us the nature and capabilities of man. Besides, humanity hitherto has been too occupied with other business to give itself up to the task of attaining perfection. But in future all its endeavours will be towards this one aim.

Tim. Yes, the whole civilised world is working zealously towards this end. And, taking into consideration the number and sufficiency of the means employed, which have indeed recently increased in an astounding manner, we have every reason to think that the goal will be reached, sooner or later. This conviction itself is by no means one of the least stimulants to progress, because it gives birth to a host of undertakings and labours useful for the common welfare. If, then, at any time it was fatal and blâmable to manifest despair like yours, and to teach men such doctrines as the absolute necessity of their wretchedness, the vanity of life, the insignificance of their race, and the evil of their nature, much more is it so in the present day. Such conduct can only result in depriving us of courage, and that feeling of self-esteem which is the foundation of an honest, useful, and glorious life; it will also divert us from the path of our own welfare.

Elean. Kindly say distinctly, whether or not you regard as true what I have said about the unhappiness of mankind.

Tim. You return to your old argument. Well, supposing I admit the truth of what you say, how does that alter the matter? I would remind you that it is not always well to preach truth simply because it is truth.

Elean. Answer me another question. Are these truths, which I merely express, without any pretence of preaching, of primary or secondary importance in philosophy?

Tim. In my opinion they are the very essence of all philosophy.

Elean. In that case, they greatly deceive themselves who affirm that man's perfection consists in complete knowledge of the truth; that his misfortunes are the consequence of his ignorance and prejudices; and that the human race will be happy when men have discovered the truth, and conform their lives to its teaching. Yet such doctrines are taught by most philosophers, ancient and modern. But you are of opinion that these truths, though confessedly the substance of all philosophy, ought to be concealed from the majority of men. You would rather that they were unknown or disregarded by all men, because of the baneful influence they exercise over the mind. And this is equivalent to an admission that philosophy ought to be banished from the earth. I grant you, however, that the final conclusion to be drawn from true and perfect philosophy is that it were better to dispense with philosophy. It would therefore seem that, first of all, philosophy is superfluous, since its conclusions are attainable without its assistance; secondly, it is extremely injurious, because its conclusion is a very painful one to be accepted, and when accepted is useless: nor is it in man's power to disregard truths once recognised. Besides, the habit of philosophising is one of the most difficult habits to throw off. Thus, philosophy which at first inspires hope as a possible remedy for the ills of humanity, ends by seeking in vain a cure for itself. And now I would ask you why you imagine we are nearer perfection than our ancestors were? Is it that we are better acquainted with the truth? This cannot be, since we have seen that such knowledge is extremely prejudicial to man's happiness. Perhaps, however, it is because some few men in the present day have learnt that the truest philosopher is he who abstains from philosophy? But in what then are we superior to the men of primitive times, who were perfectly unacquainted with philosophy? And even in the present day savages abstain from philosophy, without feeling the least inconvenience.

In what, therefore, are we more advanced than our ancestors; and what means of attaining perfection do we possess, which they had not?

Tim. We have many of great importance. To explain them would be a work of considerable time.

Elean. Put them aside for the moment, and reconsider my theory. I say that if, on the one hand, I express in my writings certain hard and bitter truths, whether to relieve my mind, or console myself in laughing at them, I do not fail at the same time to deplore and disadvise the search after that cold and miserable truth, acquaintance with which reduces us to a state of either indifference and hypocrisy, or baseness of soul, moral corruption, and depravity. And, on the other hand, I praise and exalt those noble, if false ideas, which give birth to high-minded and vigorous actions and thoughts, such as further the welfare of mankind, or individuals; those glorious illusions, vain though they be, which give value to life, and which are natural to the soul; in short, the superstitions of antiquity, distinct from the errors of barbarism. These latter should be rooted out, but the former respected. Civilisation and philosophy having exceeded their natural bounds, as is usual with all things pertaining to humanity, have drawn us from one state of barbarism only to precipitate us into another, no better than the first. This new barbarism, born of reason and science instead of ignorance, manifests itself more in the mind than the body. Yet I imagine, that though these superstitions become daily more necessary for the well-being of civilised nations, the possibility of their re-introduction diminishes daily.