Three Philosophical Poets: Lucretius, Dante, and Goethe
Dante Alighieri · en
I do not forget that Aristotle, with Dante after him, asserts that the
goal of life is a separate being already existing, namely, the mind of
God, eternally realizing what the world aspires to. The influence of
this mind, however, upon the world is no less magical than would be that
of a non-existent ideal. For its operation is admittedly not transitive
or physical. It itself does not change in working. No virtue leaves it;
it does not, according to Aristotle and Plotinus, even know that it
works. Indeed, it works only because other things are disposed to pursue
it as their ideal; let things keep this disposition, and they will
pursue and frame their ideal no less if it nowhere has an actual
existence, than if by chance it exists elsewhere in its own person. It
works only in its capacity of ideal; therefore, even if it exists, it
works only by magic. The matter beneath feels the spell of its presence,
and catches something of its image, as the waves of the sea might
receive and reflect tremblingly the light shed by the moon. The world
accordingly is moved and vivified in every fibre by magic, by the magic
of the goal to which it aspires.
But this magic, on earth, bore the name of love. The life of the world
was a love, produced by the magic attraction of a good it has never
possessed and, so long as it remains a world, is incapable of
possessing. Actual things were only suggestions of what the elements in
that ulterior existence ought to be: they were mere symbols. The acorn
was a mere prophecy--an existing symbol--for the ideal oak; because when
the acorn falls into good ground it will be corrupted, but the idea of
the oak will arise and be manifested in its place. The acorn was a sort
of reliquary in which the miraculous power of the idea was somehow
enshrined. In the vulgar attribution of causes we, like Anaxagoras,
resemble a superstitious relic-worshipper who should forget that the
intercession and merits of the saint really work the miracle, and should
attribute it instead to the saint’s bones and garments in their material
capacity. Similarly, we should attribute the power which things exerted
over us, not to the rarer or denser substance, but to the eternal ideas
that they existed by expressing, and existed to express. Things merely
localized--like the saint’s relics--the influences which flowed to us
from above. In the world of values they were mere symbols, accidental
channels for divine energy; and since divine energy, by its magic
assimilation of matter, had created these things, in order to express
itself, they were symbols altogether not merely in their use, but in
their origin and nature.