Amiel's Journal: The Journal Intime of Henri-Frédéric AmielAmiel, Henri Frédéric
Philosophy
Amiel's Journal: The Journal Intime of Henri-Frédéric Amiel
Amiel, Henri Frédéric
Amiel, Henri Frédéric, 1821-1881 -- Diaries; Authors, Swiss -- 19th century -- Diairies
June 9, 1870.--At bottom, everything depends upon the presence or
absence of one single element in the soul--hope. All the activity of
man, all his efforts and all his enterprises, presuppose a hope in
him of attaining an end. Once kill this hope and his movements become
senseless, spasmodic, and convulsive, like those of some one falling
from a height. To struggle with the inevitable has something childish
in it. To implore the law of gravitation to suspend its action would no
doubt be a grotesque prayer. Very well! but when a man loses faith in
the efficacy of his efforts, when he says to himself, “You are incapable
of realizing your ideal; happiness is a chimera, progress is an
illusion, the passion for perfection is a snare; and supposing all your
ambitions were gratified, everything would still be vanity,” then he
comes to see that a little blindness is necessary if life is to be
carried on, and that illusion is the universal spring of movement.
Complete disillusion would mean absolute immobility. He who has
deciphered the secret and read the riddle of finite life escapes from
the great wheel of existence; he has left the world of the living--he
is already dead. Is this the meaning of the old belief that to raise the
veil of Isis or to behold God face to face brought destruction upon the
rash mortal who attempted it? Egypt and Judea had recorded the fact,
Buddha gave the key to it; the individual life is a nothing ignorant
of itself, and as soon as this nothing knows itself, individual life
is abolished in principle. For as soon as the illusion vanishes,
Nothingness resumes its eternal sway, the suffering of life is over,
error has disappeared, time and form have ceased to be for this
enfranchised individuality; the colored air-bubble has burst in the
infinite space, and the misery of thought has sunk to rest in the
changeless repose of all-embracing Nothing. The absolute, if it were
spirit, would still be activity, and it is activity, the daughter of
desire, which is incompatible with the absolute. The absolute, then,
must be the zero of all determination, and the only manner of being
suited to it is Non-being.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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