Henry Sidgwick- Eye of the Universe

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by Bart Schultz


  toward such critics as Tyrwhitt. Indeed, his celebration of the Greeks

  was remarkably consistent over his mature career; their ethics

  do not place between us and the world in which we have to live and die the will

  of a hypothetical ruler, to whom we may ascribe our passions and our fancies,

  enslaving ourselves to the delusions of our own soul. Nor, again, do they involve

  the monstrous paradox of all ascetic systems, which assert that human nature

  is radically evil, and that only that is good in us which contradicts our natural

  appetites and instincts.

  For Symonds, “the truest instinct of the Greeks” involved eliminating “the

  mysterious and the terrible, to accentuate the joyous and the profitable for

  humane uses.” After a brief review of Marcus Aurelius and Goethe,

  whose Stoic–Epicurean search for well-ordered conduct without either

  asceticism or licence he would emulate, the moral and the mission come

  out:

  Thus the Greek conception of life was posed; the Christian conception was

  counterposed; the synthesis, crudely attempted in the age of the Renaissance,

  awaits mature accomplishment in the immediate future. The very ground-thought

  of Science is to treat man as part of the natural order – not, assuredly, on that

  account excluding from its calculation the most eminent portion of man, his rea-

  son and his moral being – and to return from the study of nature with profit

  to the study of man. It does not annihilate or neutralise what man has gained

  from Christianity; on the contrary, the new points of morality developed by the

  Christian discipline are of necessity accepted as data by the scientific mind. Our

  object is to combine both the Hellenic and the Christian conceptions in a third,

  which shall be more solid and more rational than any previous manifestation of

  either, superior to the Hellenic as it is no longer a mere intuition, superior to

  the ecclesiastical inasmuch as it relies on no mythology, but seeks to ascertain the

  law.

  But there is all the difference in the world between the Greek and

  the Christian: “the whole bearing of a man who feels that his highest

  duty consists in conforming himself to laws he may gradually but surely

  ascertain, is certainly different from that of one who obeys the formulae

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  invented by dead or living priests and prophets to describe the nature

  of a God whom no man had either seen or heard.” Fortified by the

  example of science, in a Whitmanesque sense, Symonds asks if it is really

  impossible to “dream that morality will be one branch of the study of the

  world as a whole, a department of , when regarded as a

  total unity, that suffers no crude radical distinction of Mind and Body, has

  absorbed our scientific attention?” What is needed is chiefly suspension

  of judgment, and the recognition that “we have no reason to apprehend

  that personal licence should result from a system of purely positive ethics

  based upon that conception of our relation to the universe which Science

  is revealing.” The Greek Pantheon might be viewed as “an exhaustive

  psychological analysis. Nothing in human nature is omitted: but each

  function and each quality of man is deified.” And just as “the unity of

  the Greek religion was not the unity of the One but of the Many blent

  and harmonised in the variety that we observe in Nature, so the ideal of

  Greek life imposed no commonplace conformity to one fixed standard on

  individuals, but each man was encouraged to complete and realise the type

  of himself to the utmost.” This was an ancient Greece that had a good

  deal of J. S. Mill in it.

  Needless to say, the difficulty of the task ahead is also brought out, and

  much of this difficulty does seem to involve shaking off “the Hebraistic

  culture we receive in childhood.” This is evident even in the first edition of

  the two Studies. The Greeks, in contrast to moderns in a world grown old,

  “had no Past.” To find anything resembling the vital Greek spirit, some

  “living echo of this melody of curving lines,” modern Englanders “must

  visit the fields where boys bathe in early morning, or the playgrounds of

  our public schools in summer, or the banks of the Isis when the eights

  are on the water, or the riding-schools of young soldiers.” After all, the

  Genius of the Greeks was mostly stimulated by male beauty, was indeed

  personified in the

  young man newly come from the wrestling-ground, anointed, chapleted, and

  very calm. . . . Upon his soul there is no burden of the world’s pain; the whole creation that groaneth and travaileth together, has touched him with no sense of

  anguish; nor has he yet felt sin. The pride and the strength of adolescence are his –

  audacity and endurance, swift passions and exquisite sensibilites, the alternations

  of sublime repose and boyish noise, grace, pliancy, and stubbornness and power,

  love of all things and splendours of the world, the frank enjoyment of the open

  air, free merriment, and melancholy well beloved.

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  Henry Sidgwick: Eye of the Universe

  Of this “clear and stainless personality, this conscience whole and pure

  and reconciled to nature, what survives among us now?” After all, the

  “blear-eyed mechanic, stifled in a hovel of our sombre northern towns”

  was hardly even in a position “to envy the pure clear life of Art made

  perfect in Humanity, which was the pride of Hellas.” How can such a one

  “comprehend a mode of existence in which the world itself was adequate

  to all the wants of the soul, and when to yearn for more than life affords

  was reckoned a disease”?

  When it came to the celebration of Greek boy love – or more accurately,

  young man love – Symonds made Pater seem like a model of circumspec-

  tion and understatement. Indeed, Pater would grow more conciliatory

  toward Christianity, albeit a Christianity that valorized the body and de-

  moted St. Paul. Symonds’s higher synthesis was hardly such as to fool

  anyone with even a trace of religious orthodoxy in his or her soul.

  But of course, this was the danger. The conservative critics of Jowett’s

  religious heresies and Platonist pedagogy were all too ready to urge that

  these had spawned the sexual heresies of Pater and Symonds. Recall that

  Jowett had been one of the contributors to the  Essays and Reviews, and

  early on had been known for his unorthodox views, shaped in part by the

  German critics. Among other things, he found conventional explanations

  of the Atonement to have an offensively “commercial” tone. If he became

  a giant figure in the Balliol of Symonds’s day, this was after years of nast
y

  academic battling and public controversy. He was pressured to sign the

  Thirty-nine Articles again when he was appointed Regius Professor, and

  was no doubt another prime example of what Sidgwick deemed high-

  minded laxness, though Leslie Stephen observed that Jowett was, after

  all, following Mill’s advice about reforming the church from within. At

  least, many of the academic liberals took him to be on their side, and he

  joined with Sidgwick in contributing a piece to Essays on Liberal Education.

  For Jowett, the emphasis on Plato was pretty clearly an alternative to an

  emphasis on religion.

  To be sure, Jowett was a very strange man – at once shy and sarcastic,

  apparently opposed to academic research in favor of “usefulness in life,”

  he hated to see his students become antipractical, even while he was in

  subtle ways bringing them to a lifelong interest in the Plato that he was

  busy translating. He was not exactly the ideal of the aggressive reformer,

  though in some respects he was a model for Sidgwick. As Annan notes,

  after Pusey had (unsuccessfully) launched proceedings against Jowett for

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  publishing heretical doctrines (in the Essays and Reviews), “never again

  was Jowett to express his theological opinions in public.” And if he was not

  quite what one would call a “friend” to the undergraduates, nonetheless:

  Jowett was not the first don to institute reading parties in the vacation, but he

  was the first head of house to know something about all his men, and a great deal

  about some of them. The list of Balliol graduates in – included Asquith,

  Curzon, Gell, Milner, Baden-Powell, Leveson-Gower and W. P. Kerr. As un-

  dergraduates they would have been invited to meet the Master’s guests – among

  them Turgenev, George Eliot and G. H. Lewes, Bishop Colenso, Archbishop Tait,

  Lord Sherbrooke and Tyndall. He made a point of mixing the different types of

  undergraduates at his parties – ‘Jowett’s Jumbles’, they were called – yet Balliol

  was judged to be the most cliquey of all colleges.

  And certainly when it came to Green and Symonds, it was Jowett’s

  personal touch that had turned them into educated men – indeed, into

  educators themselves, who appreciated the sheer labor involved in cultural

  understanding. But this was just the point. As Dowling has argued:

  [T]he darker, subversive dimension to Jowett’s and, more generally, to all tutorial

  Socraticism would always be the fatal character of Socrates as a ‘corrupter of

  youth.’ In the aftermath of the conservative clerical challenge to Jowett’s religious orthodoxy which made him such a hero to undergraduates during –, this

  darker Socratic character was never to be far from the foreboding imaginations

  of many at Oxford. Even Brodrick himself, a political ally of Jowett’s, did not

  absolutely reject the notion that Jowett may have deliberately instilled theologi-

  cal doubt into his pupils, while the judgement of Richard St. John Tyrwhitt, as

  voiced by a character in his novelistic memoir Hugh Heron, Christ Church (), would express a deep mistrust of all such tutors who ‘take pleasure in unsettling lads’ minds, and think they were like Socrates whenever they succeeded in

  that’ ().

  Amazingly, however, given Jowett’s distance from utilitarianism, his

  Plato was in many respects the fearless and sexless Socratic doubter of Mill.

  Indeed, Jowett might well seem a textbook case of homosocial panic, trying

  to deny that education was a sexually charged business and that Plato’s

  language concerning this had been anything but figurative. Swinburne,

  after his homophobic turn, would remark on “such renascent blossoms of

  the Italian Renaissance as the Platonic amorist of blue-breeched gondo-

  liers who is now in Aretino’s bosom,” assuring his readers that the “cult

  of the calamus, as expounded by Mr Addington Symonds to his fellow

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  Henry Sidgwick: Eye of the Universe

  calamites, would have found no acceptance or tolerance with the trans-

  lator of Plato.” And in truth, as Annan records, the “translator of Plato

  did indeed on one occasion take action. A Balliol undergraduate, William

  Hardinge, sent Pater sonnets praising homosexual love. Pater responded

  by signing himself ‘Yours lovingly’. Jowett was told: confronted both,

  expelled Hardinge from Balliol and never spoke to Pater again.” It was

  apparently this event, in , that brought the proctorship to Wordsworth

  rather than Pater.

  In due course, Symonds was the one who would try to drive home to

  Jowett how impossibly conflicted the Balliol Platonic Revival was. In a

  touching letter of February , , he wrote about how glad he was that

  Jowett had abandoned the “idea of an essay on Greek love.”

  It surprises me to find you, with your knowledge of Greek history, speaking of

  this in Plato as ‘mainly a figure of speech.’ – It surprised me as much as I seem to

  surprise you when I repeat that the study of Plato is injurious to a certain number

  of predisposed young men.–

  Many forms of passion between males are matters of fact in English schools,

  colleges, cities, rural districts. Such passion is innate in some persons no less than the ordinary sexual appetite is innate in the majority. With the nobler of such pre-determined temperaments the passion seeks a spiritual or ideal transfiguration.

  When, therefore, individuals of the indicated species come into contact with the

  reveries of Plato, (clothed in graceful diction, immersed in the peculiar emotion,

  presented with considerable dramatic force, gilt with a mystical philosophy, throb-

  bing with the realism of actual Greek life), the effect upon them has the force of a

  revelation. They discover that what they had been blindly groping after was once

  an admitted possibility – not in a mean hole or corner – but that the race whose

  literature forms the basis of their higher culture, lived in that way, aspired in that way. For such students of Plato there is no question of ‘figures of speech,’ but of

  concrete facts, facts in the social experience of Athens, from which men derived

  courage, drew intellectual illumination, took their first step in the path which led

  to great achievements and the arduous pursuit of truth.

  Greek history confirms, by a multitude of legends and of actual episodes, what

  Plato puts forth as a splendid vision, and subordinates to the higher philosophic

  life.

  It is futile by any evasion of the central difficulty, by any dexterity in the use of words, to escape from the stubborn fact that natures so exceptionally predisposed

  find in Plato the encouragement of their furtively cherished dreams. The Lysis, the

  Charmides, the Phaedrus, t
he Symposium – how many varied and unimaginative

  pictures these dialogues contain of what is only a sweet poison to such minds!

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  Meanwhile the temptations of the actual world surround them: friends of like

  temper, boys who respond to kindness, reckless creatures abroad upon the common

  ways of life. Eros Pandemos is everywhere. Plato lends the light, the gleam, that

  never was on sea or shore.

  Symonds continues this remarkable letter by growing even more emphatic

  and more personal. He urges Jowett to

  Put yourself in the place of someone to whom the aspect of Greek life which you

  ignore is personally and intensely interesting, who reads his Plato as you would

  wish him to read his Bible – i.e. with a vivid conviction that what he reads is the

  life-record of a masterful creative man-determining race, and the monument of a

  world-important epoch.

  Can you pretend that a sympathetically constituted nature of the sort in question

  will desire nothing from the panegyric of paederastic love in the Phaedrus, from

  the personal grace of Charmides, from the mingled realism and rapture of the

  Symposium? What you call a figure of speech, is heaven in hell to him – maddening,

  because it is stimulating to the imagination; wholly out of accord with the world

  he has to live in; too deeply in accord with his own impossible desires.

  Greek love was for Plato no ‘figure of speech,’ but a present poignant reality.

  Greek love is for modern students of Plato no ‘figure of speech’ and no anachro-

  nism, but a present poignant reality. The facts of Greek history and the facts of

  contemporary life demonstrate these propositions only too conclusively.

  By the time that he penned this letter, Symonds had long been per-

  suaded that he himself had been “born that way,” and moreover that there

  was nothing morbid about his tendencies. But he was harking back sym-

  pathetically to the tortured time of his youth, when he was much more

  conflicted. Symonds may have been rather more in the grip of a repression-

  versus-release view of sexual passion than Pater, who had a delicate (almost

 

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