Autor: Sertillanges A. D. (Gilbert)

Buch: The Intellectual Life

Titel: The Intellectual Life

Stichwort: Kreative Arbeit; Schreiben 3; Schwierigkeiten beim Schreiben; Beständigkeit, Geduld, Durchhaltevermögen (Nicole); Mut

Kurzinhalt: The true intellectual is by definition a man who perseveres; he loves truth with his whole being; he is consecrated to his work

Textausschnitt: III
Constancy, Patience, and Perseverance (eü)

34/8 Creative work calls for other virtues also; its demands are on a level with its worth. I speak here together of three of these requirements, which subserve one another and insure results that are not poor or inadequate. You must bring to your work constancy which keeps steadily at the task; patience which bears difficulties well; perseverance which prevents the will from flagging. (215; Fs)

35/8 "You must not imagine," says Nicole, "that the life of study is an easy life. [...] The reason is that there is nothing more against nature than uniformity and stillness, because nothing gives us more occasion to be alone with ourselves. Change and external occupations take us out of ourselves and distract us by making us forget ourselves. Moreover, this medium of words has always something dead about it, it has nothing that piques our self-love or rouses our passions strongly.1 It is devoid of action and movement. [...] It speaks little to us of ourselves and gives us little ground for contemplating ourselves with pleasure. It affords little encouragement to our hopes; and all this tends strangely to mortify our self-love, which, being unsatisfied, causes us weariness and distaste in everything that we do."2 This analysis, which recalls Pascal's theory of diversion,3 might take us far. I merely pick out the fact that as "weariness and distaste" are in our case formidable enemies, we must plan to overcome them. (215f; Fs) (notabene)

36/8 Everyone knows those intellectuals who work spasmodically, in fits interrupted by spells of laziness and indifference. There are rents in the fabric of their destiny: they make of it a tattered garment roughly drawn together, instead of a noble drapery. We, on the contrary, mean to be intellectuals all the time, and we intend others to recognize the fact. People will know what we are by our way of resting, of idling, of tying our shoes: still more will it be evident in our fidelity to work, in our prompt and regular return to our task, and in its continuity. When Edison was asked one day to say to a child something that he might remember, the great inventor uttered with a smile the words: "My boy, don't keep your eye on the clock." Edison himself was so little in the habit of watching the clock that on the day of his marriage—a love-match—he had to be sent for; he had got lost in one of his investigations. (216f; Fs)

37/8 It is a glorious thing to be wholly engaged in what one is doing, like God, who is not separate from His work. But if an occupation is beneath one's personality, one might as well put nothing of oneself into it. (217; Fs)

One is often tempted to lose time because "it's not worthwhile settling down," because " it's just on the hour." We forget that these odds and ends of time, which indeed do not lend themselves to anything serious, are just the moments for preparing the work or touching it up, for verifying references, looking up notes, sorting papers, etc. That would be so much out of the way for the hours of really serious application, and the moments so turned to account would be as useful as the others, because these secondary tasks belong to the work and are indispensable to it. (217; Fs)

38/8 Even during real working hours, there is a temptation to interrupt our effort as soon as the slightest happening brings back the "weariness" and rouses the "distaste" of which Nicole spoke. The ruses of sloth are endless, like those of children. Looking for a word that will not come, one begins to sketch something on the margin of the paper and the drawing must be finished. Opening the dictionary, one is attracted by some curious word, then by another, and there one stays, tangled in a thicket. Your eyes fall on some object: you go to put it in its place, and you find yourself led on to waste a quarter of an hour on a trifle. Someone passes by: there is a friend in the next room: you think of a telephone call, or the newspaper comes, you glance at it, and you are soon lost in it. It may be even that one idea brings another in its train and that the work itself prevents you from working; some thought sets you dreaming and carries you away along the vistas of imagination. (217f; Fs)

39/8 In inspired moments these snares are less to be feared: the joy of discovery or of creation carries you along: but bad hours always come, and while they last, temptation is very strong. Sometimes it takes real strength of soul to get over these small difficulties. All workers bewail the moments of depression that break in on the hours of ardor and threaten to bring their results to nothing. When the disgust with work lasts long, one feels that one would rather plant cabbages than pursue a wearisome study; one envies the laborer who on his side calls you a good-for-nothing because you sit quietly in your chair. What danger there is of giving up when you are in this distressing state of mind! (218; Fs) (notabene)

It is most of all at turning-points in our study that we must look out for sudden or insidious attacks of this kind. In every work there are troublesome transitions; to make one part follow closely on another is the great difficulty in study and creation. Everything depends on the connection of ideas. One is moving forward in a straight line, and there comes a bend of which it is hard to measure the angle; one does not sense the new direction; one hesitates, and it is then that the demon of laziness comes on the scene. (218f; Fs) (notabene)

40/8 Sometimes it is good to stop for a while, when one does not see the right succession of ideas and is exposed to the grave danger of making artificial transitions. It may be that later on light will come without any seeking. I said that there are graces of the night, of the bright morning, of moments of effortless musing. But to break off for a while is not laziness. Take up some other side of the work and transfer your keen application to that. (219; Fs)

Reject vigorously every unjustified interruption. If you are too tired, make a deliberate pause so as to pull yourself together. Nervous exhaustion would lead you nowhere. Possible remedies for fatigue are, for example, reading a few pages of a favorite author, reciting something aloud, kneeling down and saying a prayer so as to modify the state of the organism and therefore more or less refresh the mind, a few rhythmical movements or breathing exercises in the open air. Then get back to your effort. (219; Fs)

41/8 Some people have recourse to stimulants; but that is a fatal method. The effect is only momentary; it grows less with use; the quantity has to be increased daily; and the progression ends in physical and mental degeneracy. (219; Fs)

Walking, whether in the open air or in one's study, is a more harmless stimulant. Many workers thus set their brain in motion by means of the motion of their limbs. "My foot is a writer too," said Nietzsche. (219f; Fs)

42/8 But your most normal stimulant is courage. Courage is sustained, not only by prayer, but by calling up anew the vision of the goal. The prisoner who wants to escape from prison contrives to develop every kind of energy; he does not weary of remote preparations, or of resuming them after a setback: liberty is calling him. Have you not to escape from error, to win the liberty of the mind in a finished work? Keep your eyes on its completion and that vision will give you fresh courage. (220; Fs)

Another effect of constancy is to overcome those impressions of imaginary weariness which affect the mind as well as the body. At the beginning of a walking excursion, it often happens that the first steep ascent finds you inert and breathless; vour limbs ache; you are almost inclined to give up and go home. But if you keep on, the joints grow supple, the muscles act freely, the chest expands and you feel the delight of activity. It is the same with study. You must not yield to the first sense of fatigue; you must push on; you must force the inner energy to reveal itself. Little by little the mechanism gets into play, you adapt yourself, and a period of enthusiasm may follow on the first painful inertia. (220; Fs)

43/8 Whatever be the cause of your difficulties you must go through them without flinching, keeping your self-mastery. Each spell of work is like a racecourse with a certain number of obstacles. You jump a hedge; a little farther on you come to a ditch, then a bank, and so on. You do not stop at the first hurdle, you jump it; and between the obstacles there are quiet stretches where you go ahead at a good pace. One difficulty overcome shows you how to overcome others; one effort spares you three or four; a minute's courage carries you through a day and the hard work ends by being fruitful and joyous. (220f; Fs)

In your life as a whole this tenacity will help to make your activity easier and easier. One acquires facility in thinking just as one acquires facility in playing the piano, in riding, or painting: St. Thomas used to dictate in his sleep. The mind gets into the way of doing what is often demanded of it. Even if you have no memory, you acquire memory for the subject always before your mind; if you are inclined to be scatterbrained, you attain the degree of attention of a professional; if you have little aptitude for distinguishing ideas, your judgment grows keener and surer by persevering contact with great thinkers. In every subject-matter, after a certain number of efforts to start, your motor warms up, and the road flies past. (221; Fs)

44/8 Amiel one day asked himself in his Journal: "Why are you weak? Because times without number you have given in. So you have become the plaything of circumstances. It is you who have made them strong, not they who have made you weak." (221; Fs)

Learn constancy by persistent application and by obstinately returning to the interrupted study: a day will come when the recurring fits of weariness will vanish, when moments of distaste will have little effect; you will have become a man; the inconstant worker is a mere child. (221f; Fs)

45/8 Experience shows that many difficulties are overcome in advance by the man who throws himself energetically into his work, like a runner starting off with a bound. Still, there will always remain a considerable number that must be gotten over by a virtue akin to constancy, patience. (222; Fs)

Great thinkers have all complained of the tribulations of the life of thought, declaring that their labors, although for them a necessity and a condition of happiness, caused them long-drawn-out torment, sometimes even real agony. (222; Fs)

46/8 The laws of the brain are obscure; its workings depend but little on the will; when it refuses its service, what is to be done? When the threads of knowledge grow tangled and the hours go by in vain, when a painful feeling of powerlessness takes hold of you and there is not the least sign that this trial will soon end, where are you to turn and what help can you call on but the help of God? (222; Fs)

When you succeed your reader will think it all quite simple; he will criticize your weaknesses without mercy; he will not suspect the cost of the work. But indeed he must not be allowed to suspect it. "Creations realized at the price of a great deal of work," said Michelangelo, "must in spite of the truth appear easy and effortless. [...] The great rule is to take much trouble to produce things that seem to have cost none." Did not Boileau somewhat similarly boast that he had taught Racine the art of making easy verses with difficulty? In the domain of science, Biot said: "There is nothing so easy as what was discovered yesterday, nor so difficult as what will be discovered tomorrow." But the public does not suspect this. You must carry your burden alone, and great men warn you that this burden of thought is the heaviest that man can carry. (222f; Fs)

47/8 In research, you must be as indomitable as the polar or Central African explorer. In attacking or resisting error, you will need the endurance and ardor of Caesar or of Wellington. Work requires heroism just as a battle does. One's study is sometimes a trench where one has to stand firm, like a good martyr. (223; Fs)

When you feel yourself defenseless, overcome; when the road stretches out before you interminably, or when, having no doubt mistaken your direction, you have the impression of being lost, completely astray, wrapped in a thick fog, then is the time to draw on stores of energy held in reserve. Persist, stand up to the difficulty, be patient in the great sense of the word, which calls up the Passion of the Master. Ardor is easier than patience but both are necessary and success is the reward of their combination. (223; Fs)

48/8 To the alpinist walking through a cloud it seems as if the universe were plunged in night; he goes on and he finds the sunlight beyond. In a closed room in bad weather, the elements outside seem impossible to face; you go out, you make your way quietly and fine weather comes back. (223f; Fs)

It is principally the length of time required that makes the art of thinking so forbidding and so out of proportion to the degree of courage that people ordinarily possess. Ars longa, vita brevis. There is plenty of scope here for the virtue of patience. By respecting the laws of birth and development, and by not insulting knowledge through ill-judged hurry, you will gain more than by a headlong rush. Truth and nature proceed at an even pace, and nature operates through periods of duration in comparison with which the life and death of our globe are a mere sunrise and sunset. (224; Fs)

49/8 "What goes on in the depths of the springs," writes Nietzsche, "goes on slowly; one must wait long to find out what has fallen into their depths."4 The soul is that secret spring: do not try prematurely to clear up its mystery. The stores of time belong to God; little by little He doles them out to us; but it is not our part to demand them or to grow impatient. Nothing is precious but what comes at the right moment. (224; Fs)

Avoid the fuss and flurry of the man who is pressed for time. Hasten slowly. In the realm of mind, quietness is better than speed. There more than elsewhere the proverb is verified: All things come to him who waits. "A well-filled life is long," said Leonardo da Vinci. To the man who takes his time belongs all duration, itself situate in eternity. Work then in a spirit of eternity. Do not confuse the impetus of a noble enthusiasm with the exciting stimuli which are almost its opposite, for they break its rhythm. The ordering of ideas and the delicate elaboration of new thoughts is a work needing peace; you cannot accomplish it in a state of disturbance. Do you want to lose time through the foolish fear of not having enough? (224f; Fs)

50/8 As a Christian, you must respect God in His providence. It is He who lays down the conditions of knowledge: impatience is a revolt against Him. When feverish excitement takes hold of you, spiritual slavery is close at hand, interior liberty vanishes. It is not now you yourself who act, still less Christ in you. You are no longer doing the work of the Word. (225; Fs)

Why press on immoderately, when the road itself is a goal, the means an end? When one looks at Niagara, does one long to see it hurry? Intellectual activity has its own worth at every stage. Effort is a virtue and a conquest. He who works for God and as God wills abides in God. What does it matter if time runs on, when one is established in God? (225; Fs)

51/8 The consummation of steady constancy and patience is perseverance, which completes the work. "He that shall persevere unto the end, he shall be saved," says the Gospel. Intellectual salvation has no other law. "No man putting his hand to the plow and looking back" is worthy, in the intellectual order either, of the kingdom of heaven. (225; Fs)

How many workers have given up plowing and sowing, and foregone the harvest! The whole world is peopled with these deserters. In the pursuit of knowledge the first experiments have the character of eliminatory tests; one after another the weak characters give up, the valiant hold out; at the end there are left only the three hundred of Gideon, or the thirty of David. (225f; Fs)

52/8 To persevere is to will; he who does not persevere does not will, he only plans. He who lets go has never really held; he who ceases to love has never loved. Our destiny is one; a work which is a part of it is still more necessarily one. The true intellectual is by definition a man who perseveres. He takes on himself the task of learning and teaching; he loves truth with his whole being; he is consecrated to his work; he does not give it up prematurely. (226; Fs) (notabene)

Great lives have all displayed this supreme mark of superiority. They end like a glorious day. The red light of the setting sun is no less beautiful than the first golden gleams of morning and it has grandeur in addition. The man of character who has worked unfailingly throughout a long life can go down like the sun into a quiet and splendid death; his work follows him, and at the same time remains to us. (226; Fs)

53/8 You who walk in the footsteps of the great, be not of the number of those cowardly wayfarers who desert—who go a stage, stop, lose the way, sit down as if exhausted and go back sooner or later to the trodden places. You must hold out to the end of the journey. "Fair and softly goes far in a day," and a few great strides without perseverance are mere useless movements leading nowhere. (226f; Fs)

Strengthen your will and entrust it to the Lord so that He may set His seal on it. To will is to be subject, to be enchained. The necessity imposed by duty, or by a deliberate resolution even though it carry no obligation, must be as compelling for us as the necessities imposed by nature. Is not a moral bond more than a material bond. (227; Fs)

54/8 Learn then, after having decided on your task, to stick to it with resourceful inflexibility; shut out even lesser duties, and still more, of course, all infidelity to your undertaking. Strive to deepen your work, so as to force duration into your service in that one of its dimensions that is directly accessible to you. Carried along on its stream, you will take advantage of it until it fails you. You will be of the line of faithful thinkers. The giants of work, such men as Aristotle, Augustine, Albert the Great, Thomas of Aquin, Leibnitz, Littre", Pasteur, will acknowledge you for their son; and you will go worthily to meet Him who is patiently waiting for you. (227; Fs)