By Ricardo Mena.
I.-
Character of the epistolar source of Santayana.
In
the letters of Santayana one finds the intimacy, sincerity and
peaceful dimension of this Hispanic American philosopher. Jaime
Nubiola informs us of a conversation that the Catalonian (not very
"Spanish" himself) Eugenio D'ors had with him. Nubiola
informs us of what Eugenio D'ors wrote when Santayana passed away
(see http://www.unav.es/users/Articulo21.html):
"On
the death of Santayana (October 5th, 1952).
–And
you count me as Catholic?, Jorge Santayana asked me that night. (He
had received me at nine postmeridie, like if we were in Madrid; an
unheard of event in a convent.)
–Yes,
I replied. Just like Michael Angelo.
Moments
later it was I who interrogated him.
–And
you consider yourself Spanish?
–Yes,
was the reply. Just like Christopher Columbus."
II.-
The moral dimension of Santayana.
When
his friend from Harvard (class of 1886) Henry Ward Abbot asks
Santayana what to do with his life, what path to follow, whether
going for business or going for philosophy or art, Santayana tries
with his pointed knowledge of the human spirit and, thus, of
psychology, to suggest him some steps. The calm, peaceful, and
detached spirit of Santayana may be explained by saying that, because
he believed each human being had the right to have his or her own
perfection, he always developed and perfected his own moral one in
the same individual
way. Let us listen to him now.
III.-
First step: the sincerity of the patient.
Santayana
asks him to tell him what and how he feels truly in his letter of 27
August 1886 from Göttinguen, Germany, where Santayana has gone with
a scholarship. Recognising that truth can be, sometimes, many times,
painful and dark, the physician of the human soul that is Santayana,
warns his friend:
"I
will not think any the worse of you for telling me what is
psychologically (or, as in Ward's case, physiologically) true of you.
I know before hand that at the bottom of things spiritual is
darkness, and at the bottom of things physical, filth; but I think it
a pleasant thing for a few persons (and there have always been such)
to say it to each other in a decent way."
IV.-
Second step: to know what one wants.
Santayana,
in the second letter to his friend Ward Abbot from Berlin on the 6th
October, 1886, gives him this second advice to his desperate friend
that finds himself in a crossroads where all of us have find
ourselves, more or less consciously, after leaving the family bossom.
"All
that an emancipated man asks is which objects attract him most, and
what are the means of attaining those objects. To do right is to know
what you want. Now when you are dissatisfied with yourself, it's
because you are after something you don't want."
V.-
Third step: the parable of the mustard seed.
In
the third letter that we rescue for this essay of the 1st
November, 1886, from Berlin, Santayana explains his meaning to his
confused friend thus:
"I
can easely make my general position more clear by a parable. Suppose
a mustard seed asked advice of an oak how it should grow, and that
the oak (being a fanatic) said: Young seed, unless you grow up into
an oak and bear acorns you will be a worthless and immoral plant.
(...)
And
suppose further the mustard seed asked advice also of an elm, which
said: My little seed, consider yourself and study your own nature,
till you discover what kind of a seed you are. Then look for the
ground where your species grows best, and plant yourself there. In
this way you will have the best chance of growing up into a good and
beautiful tree. But if you plant yourself in ground unfit for you,
you may never spring up, or if you do, you will live with pain and
difficulty, and be a shrunken and feeble plant. Yet if you should
make a mistake, do not be too much troubled; for in the end all trees
alike must perish, and the time will soon come when neither boughs
nor dry branches will be remembered."
And
paragraphs later, the psychologist (or physiologist) adds to his
friend:
"If
it is contradictory and hypocritical to have tastes and prejudices, I
must give up logic and sincerity. But it seems to me that when ones
sees the arbitrariness of all ideals, the à priori equality of all
aims, one can stick to one's own with all the better conscience. That
is what I had in mind when I said that to do right is to know what
you want. (...)
The
only obligation possible appears when your needs and aspirations are
given and you ask what you ought to do to satisfy them."
VI.-
Forth step, only for thinkers: epicureism vs hedonism.
To
do what one wants for the sheer pleasure of doing it is known for the
peyorative name its enemies use against it: hedonism, which it should be
differentiated from epicureism; the latter is rather like a
philosophy that avoids pain and tries to live away from the worldly
problems in order to achieve spiritual peace, something that, it
seems proper to me, is related with Buddhism more than with
Christianism, for Christianism does not avoid pain, but accepts it
and, in extreme cases such as Christ or Francis of Assisi, salutes it
and blesses it. I
think that in here we have one of the new values that Christianism
offers to the world and the human spirit; in place of trying to avoid
pain, it is to receive it and salute it with courage and
humillity.
Santayana
was more epicurean than hedonist; because of this, he says to his
friend Abbot (on his letter of 16 January 1887) that "[t]he
difference between the hedonist and the naturalists [i.e. epicurean]
will thus be reduced to an original difference in their observations.
If a man believes that men usually know what they are about, he will
like the hedonist; if he thinks men usually don't, he will like the
naturalists. I like the naturalists."
Santayana
says to his friend why he loves philosophy and why he wants to make
his life a philopher's one:
"I
think the talking philosophers alone are worth hearing; they come to
you as one man to another, on the basis of everyday facts and life.
That is what makes Aristotle so much the safest and wisest of men."
That
Santayana is a naturalists, and epicureist, is confirmed when he
himself writes at the end of this letter to his friend Abbot:
"By
the way, do you ever read Lucretius? If you don't, I should advise
you to try him. He fills me with the greatest enthusiasm and delight.
The arguments are often childish, but the energy, the flow, the
magnificence and solidity are above everything."
What a brave and sincere spiritual mind.
Rest in peace, Stranger.
Oremus...

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