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| The Love of the Studious Mind, that Is, of One Desirous to Know, is Not the Love of a Thing Which It Does Not Know.
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Chapter 1.—The Love of the
Studious Mind, that Is, of One Desirous to Know, is Not the Love of
a Thing Which It Does Not Know.
1.
Let us now proceed, then, in due order,
with a more exact purpose, to explain this same point more
thoroughly. And first, since no one can love at all a thing of
which he is wholly ignorant, we must carefully consider of what
sort is the love of those who are studious, that is, of those who
do not already know, but are still desiring to know any branch of
learning. Now certainly, in those things whereof the word study is
not commonly used, love often arises from hearsay, when the
reputation of anything for beauty inflames the mind to the seeing
and enjoying it; since the mind knows generically wherein consist
the beauties of corporeal things, from having seen them very
frequently, and since there exists within a faculty of approving
that which outwardly is longed for. And when this happens, the love
that is called forth is not of a thing wholly unknown, since its
genus is thus known. But when we love a good man whose face we
never saw, we love him from the knowledge of his virtues, which
virtues we know [abstractly] in the truth itself. But in the case
of learning, it is for the most part the authority of others who
praise and commend it that kindles our love of it; although
nevertheless we could not burn with any zeal at all for the study
of it, unless we had already in our mind at least a slight
impression of the knowledge of each kind of learning. For who, for
instance, would devote any care and labor to the learning of
rhetoric, unless he knew before that it was the science of
speaking? Sometimes, again, we marvel at the results of learning
itself, which we have heard of or experienced; and hence burn to
obtain, by learning, the power of attaining these results. Just as
if it were said to one who did not know his letters, that there is
a kind of learning which enables a man to send words, wrought with
the hand in silence, to one who is ever so far absent, for him in
turn to whom they are sent to gather these words, not with his
ears, but with his eyes; and if the man were to see the thing
actually done, is not that man, since he desires to know how he can
do this thing, altogether moved to study with a view to the result
which he already knows and holds? So it is that the studious zeal
of those who learn is kindled: for that of which any one is utterly
ignorant, he can in no way love.
2. So also, if any one hear an
unknown sign, as, for instance, the sound of some word of which he
does not know the signification, he desires to know what it is;
that is, he desires to know what thing it is which it is agreed
shall be brought to mind by that sound: as if he heard the word
temetum723
uttered, and
not knowing, should ask what it is. He must then know already that
it is a sign, i.e. that the word is not an empty sound, but
that something is signified by it; for in other respects this
trisyllabic word is known to him already, and has already impressed
its articulate form upon his mind through the sense of hearing. And
then what more is to be required in him, that he may go on to a
greater knowledge of that of which all the letters and all the
spaces of its several sounds are already known, unless that it
shall at the same time have become known to him that it is a sign,
and shall have also moved him with the desire of knowing of what it
is the sign? The more, then, the thing is known, yet not fully
known, the more the mind desires to know concerning it what remains
to be known. For if he knew it to be only such and
such a spoken word, and did not know that it was the sign of
something, he would seek nothing further, since the sensible thing
is already perceived as far as it can be by the sense. But because
he knows it to be not only a spoken word, but also a sign, he
wishes to know it perfectly; and no sign is known perfectly, except
it be known of what it is the sign. He then who with ardent
carefulness seeks to know this, and inflamed by studious zeal
perseveres in the search; can such an one be said to be without
love? What then does he love? For certainly nothing can be loved
unless it is known. For that man does not love those three
syllables which he knows already. But if he loves this in them,
that he knows them to signify something, this is not the point now
in question, for it is not this which he seeks to know. But we are
now asking what it is he loves, in that which he is desirous to
know, but which certainly he does not yet know; and we are
therefore wondering why he loves, since we know most assuredly that
nothing can be loved unless it be known. What then does he love,
except that he knows and perceives in the reason of things what
excellence there is in learning, in which the knowledge of all
signs is contained; and what benefit there is in the being skilled
in these, since by them human fellowship mutually communicates its
own perceptions, lest the assemblies of men should be actually
worse than utter solitude, if they were not to mingle their
thoughts by conversing together? The soul, then, discerns this
fitting and serviceable species, and knows it, and loves it; and he
who seeks the meaning of any words of which he is ignorant, studies
to render that species perfect in himself as much as he can: for it
is one thing to behold it in the light of truth, another to desire
it as within his own capacity. For he beholds in the light of truth
how great and how good a thing it is to understand and to speak all
tongues of all nations, and so to hear no tongue and to be heard by
none as from a foreigner. The beauty, then, of this knowledge is
already discerned by thought, and the thing being known is loved;
and that thing is so regarded, and so stimulates the studious zeal
of learners, that they are moved with respect to it, and desire it
eagerly in all the labor which they spend upon the attainment of
such a capacity, in order that they may also embrace in practice
that which they know beforehand by reason. And so every one, the
nearer he approaches that capacity in hope, the more fervently
desires it with love; for those branches of learning are studied
the more eagerly, which men do not despair of being able to attain;
for when any one entertains no hope of attaining his end, then he
either loves lukewarmly or does not love at all, howsoever he may
see the excellence of it. Accordingly, because the knowledge of all
languages is almost universally felt to be hopeless, every one
studies most to know that of his own nation; but if he feels that
he is not sufficient even to comprehend this perfectly, yet no one
is so indolent in this knowledge as not to wish to know, when he
hears an unknown word, what it is, and to seek and learn it if he
can. And while he is seeking it, certainly he has a studious zeal
of learning, and seems to love a thing he does not know; but the
case is really otherwise. For that species touches the mind, which
the mind knows and thinks, wherein the fitness is clearly visible
which accrues from the associating of minds with one another, in
the hearing and returning of known and spoken words. And this
species kindles studious zeal in him who seeks what indeed he knows
not, but gazes upon and loves the unknown form to which that
pertains. If then, for example, any one were to ask, What is
temetum (for I had instanced this word already), and it were
said to him, What does this matter to you? he will answer, Lest
perhaps I hear some one speaking, and understand him not; or
perhaps read the word somewhere, and know not what the writer
meant. Who, pray, would say to such an inquirer, Do not care about
understanding what you hear; do not care about knowing what you
read? For almost every rational soul quickly discerns the beauty of
that knowledge, through which the thoughts of men are mutually made
known by the enunciation of significant words; and it is on account
of this fitness thus known, and because known therefore loved, that
such an unknown word is studiously sought out. When then he hears
and learns that wine was called “temetum” by our
forefathers, but that the word is already quite obsolete in our
present usage of language, he will think perhaps that he has still
need of the word on account of this or that book of those
forefathers. But if he holds these also to be superfluous, perhaps
he does now come to think the word not worth remembering, since he
sees it has nothing to do with that species of learning which he
knows with the mind, and gazes upon, and so loves.
3. Wherefore in all cases the love
of a studious mind, that is, of one that wishes to know what it
does not know, is not the love of that thing which it does not
know, but of that which it knows; on account of which it
wishes
to know what it does not know. Or if it is so inquisitive as to be
carried away, not for any other cause known to it, but by the mere
love of knowing things unknown; then such an inquisitive person is,
doubtless distinguishable from an ordinary student, yet does not,
any more than he, love things he does not know; nay, on the
contrary, he is more fitly said to hate things he knows not, of
which he wishes that there should be none, in wishing to know
everything. But lest any one should lay before us a more difficult
question, by declaring that it is just as impossible for any one to
hate what he does not know, as to love what he does not know, we
will not withstand what is true; but it must be understood that it
is not the same thing to say he loves to know things unknown, as to
say he loves things unknown. For it is possible that a man may love
to know things unknown; but it is not possible that he should love
things unknown. For the word to know is not placed there without
meaning; since he who loves to know things unknown, does not love
the unknown things themselves, but the knowing of them. And unless
he knew what knowing means, no one could say confidently, either
that he knew or that he did not know. For not only he who says I
know, and says so truly, must needs know what knowing is; but he
also who says, I do not know, and says so confidently and truly,
and knows that he says so truly, certainly knows what knowing is;
for he both distinguishes him who does not know from him who knows,
when he looks into himself and says truly I do not know; and
whereas he knows that he says this truly, whence should he know it,
if he did not know what knowing is? E.C.F. INDEX & SEARCH
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