12 JULY 1924, Page 22

VOLTAIRE.

Voltaire's Philosophical Dictionary. Selected and Translated by H. L Woolf. (Allen and Unwin. 10s. 6d. net.) " THERE are pious men among us ; but where are the wise men ? Where are the resolute, just, and tolerant souls ? " cries Voltaire in his note on " Philosopher." Behind the brilliancy and destructiveness of his wit can be divined the pathos of loneliness, of unappeased passion to believe. Persiflage may be said to have been the piquant, if at times somewhat bitter fruit of his discontent. In the Philosophical Dictionary, however, there is little or no persiflage. There is little even that is satirical. There is a less personal quality, a quality of earnest maturity we might call it, which gives the impression that. Voltaire- had found himself out in his own scepticism. There is scepticism, of course, but it is rather the disciplinary scepticism of a man who sees that, to remain true to his soul, he must keep his intellectual armour bright. A spirit of reverence is in the ascendant, and more than restores the balance. There is both reverence and humility in the following from the section on " Soul "

" While we worship God with all our soul, let us confess always our profound ignorance. of this soul, infinite goodness."

It is astonishing that " atheistic " (dubious and spookish word as it is) could ever have been applied to the man who wrote this passage. The anthropomorphic conception of Deity was anathema to him, of course, but that is a proof that he was a Theist. Voltaire himself gives a very 'com- prehensive definition of Theism and ends by saying that " the Theist laughs at Loretto and at Mecca ; but he succours

the needy and defends the oppressed "—which might well apply to himself.

In this connexion a very excellent story occurs at the end of a dialogue about God, between the pretentious Logomachos and the unassuming Dondindac. Dondindac has been lectured and bullied by Logomachos, but suddenly he turns the tables on him :-

" DONDINDAO : . . Allow me to put a question to you in

my turn. I once saw one of your temples ; why do you depict God with a long beard ?

1.0003EACHOS : That's a very difficult question which needs preliminary instruction. DONDINDAC : Before receiving your instruction I must tell you what happened to me one day. I had just built a closet at the end of my garden ; I heard a mole arguing with a cockchafer.

That's a fine building,' said the mole. It must have been a very powerful mole who did that piece of work.' ' You're joking,' said the cockchafer. ' It was a cockchafer bubbling over with genius who was the architect of that building.' From that time I resolved never to argue."

There are several other excellent dialogues in the book, extracted from estimable works not commonly within the

reach of the many, as the translator, who has done his work very well, says in his preface. Indeed the dialogues are perhaps the chief feature of the book, although a multiplicity of subjects ranging from adultery to ultimate questions of destiny and the nature of the soul is treated. Needless to say, Voltaire gives the " pros " and " cons " with wonderful clarity and precision; and sums up with equally wonderful grace and distinction.

Perhaps, however, the fine quality of the man and his unerring human taste can be best appreciated in reading his merciless trouncings of the charlatans, false prophets and pretenders of his own and all ages. Not only must we acknowledge a penetrating and fine sense of psychological

values but alleart fearleSs in speaking the truth. There is a white-hot passion for truth, which brought suffering and

even exile in its train, as we know. The hissing of his lash is not mere invective. We prefer to regard it as the scourge of God for his time. In this sense Voltaire nobly fulfilled his function. He was admirable. Moreover, his taste always tempers his passion and so excludes the imputation of fanaticism. For example :—

" Is there a greater charlatanry than that of substituting words for things, and of wanting others to believe what you do not believe yourself ? One establishes whirlwinds of subtle matter, ramous, globulous, striated, channelled ; the other elements of matter which are not matter at all, and a pre-established harmony which makes the clock of the body sound the hour, when the clock of the soul shows it with its hand. . . . When this rubbish has passed out of fashion, new fanatics appear on the itinerant theatre. . . . How much charlatanry has been put into history, either by astonishing the reader with prodigies, by titillating human malignity with satire, or-bay flattering the families of tyrants with infamous eulogy ? "

The clock allusion probably echoes a crude psycho-physical parallelism, which had made its appearance even in his day. Let us take him in a lighter vein. In introducing a chrortiyue scasdaleuse about Pope' Alexander VI. in typically Voltairean fashion—with a mischievous chuckle—he says :-

" We have long pondered whether or no we should print this article, which we found in an old book. Our respect for St. Peter's see restrained us. But oome Pima men having convinced us that Pope Alexander VI. had liothing in common with St. Peter, we at last decided to bring this little piece into the light, without scruple."

Here follows a story which throws a lurid light on the 'character of Alexander VI.—a good after-dinner story. It is on -page 126. The reader must look it up for himself. Wherever he may open this book he will find his interest engaged ; but if he is looking for a higher stimulus, for inspiration, in short, he will be disappointed. The wit and brilliance will be there, but he will find that his palate is jaded. Since Voltaire's time everything has been analyzed and criticized ad nauseam. He longs for synthesis. And so he may ask himself in what sense is Voltaire a philosopher.

He will be bound to reply—certainly in no constructive sense. Truth to tell, Voltaire, as a philosopher, leaves off where the great philosopher begins. Voltaire saw things separately, he lived in the category of discrete degrees. He never saw everything together—at once in a flash. Otherwise he would not have bothered so much about these discrete

degrees Perhaps also that is why he did not unfold a system. He worshipped Divinity—in discrete degrees. But he shrank from the idea of Ineffable Purpose. He was, as it

were, appalled by the point having position but no magnitude —which is also ineffable.

But it is just this awful crux which is the everlasting joy of Archangels. He recoiled from the terror of Immanence and Manifestation—from the stupendously unknowable. To brood over the stupendously unknowable is the function of the great philosopher. To brood, like Plato, so divinely that intuition flashes up like a flame and shines forth as a new revelation of Eternal Truth, bringing with it redemption from suflering, freedom from compulsion to satire, persiflage and all things negative, and deliverance from the encrusta- tions, superstitions and effete moralities of former dispensa- tions—in this sense Voltaire knew nothing of philosophy.

JAMES YOUNG.