Guest Author -- On Noise

THE ABSURD TIMES

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ON NOISE.

Kant has written a treatise on _The Vital Powers_; but I should like to

write a dirge on them, since their lavish use in the form of knocking,

hammering, and tumbling things about has made the whole of my life a

daily torment. Certainly there are people, nay, very many, who will

smile at this, because they are not sensitive to noise; it is precisely

these people, however, who are not sensitive to argument, thought,

poetry or art, in short, to any kind of intellectual impression: a fact

to be assigned to the coarse quality and strong texture of their brain

tissues. On the other hand, in the biographies or in other records of

the personal utterances of almost all great writers, I find complaints

of the pain that noise has occasioned to intellectual men. For example,

in the case of Kant, Goethe, Lichtenberg, Jean Paul; and indeed when no

mention is made of the matter it is merely because the context did not

lead up to it. I should explain the subject we are treating in this way:

If a big diamond is cut up into pieces, it immediately loses its value

as a whole; or if an army is scattered or divided into small bodies, it

loses all its power; and in the same way a great intellect has no more

power than an ordinary one as soon as it is interrupted, disturbed,

distracted, or diverted; for its superiority entails that it

concentrates all its strength on one point and object, just as a concave

mirror concentrates all the rays of light thrown upon it. Noisy

interruption prevents this concentration. This is why the most eminent

intellects have always been strongly averse to any kind of disturbance,

interruption and distraction, and above everything to that violent

interruption which is caused by noise; other people do not take any

particular notice of this sort of thing. The most intelligent of all the

European nations has called "Never interrupt" the eleventh commandment.

But noise is the most impertinent of all interruptions, for it not only

interrupts our own thoughts but disperses them. Where, however, there is

nothing to interrupt, noise naturally will not be felt particularly.

Sometimes a trifling but incessant noise torments and disturbs me for a

time, and before I become distinctly conscious of it I feel it merely as

the effort of thinking becomes more difficult, just as I should feel a

weight on my foot; then I realise what it is.

But to pass from _genus_ to _species_, the truly infernal cracking of

whips in the narrow resounding streets of a town must be denounced as

the most unwarrantable and disgraceful of all noises. It deprives life

of all peace and sensibility. Nothing gives me so clear a grasp of the

stupidity and thoughtlessness of mankind as the tolerance of the

cracking of whips. This sudden, sharp crack which paralyses the brain,

destroys all meditation, and murders thought, must cause pain to any one

who has anything like an idea in his head. Hence every crack must

disturb a hundred people applying their minds to some activity, however

trivial it may be; while it disjoints and renders painful the

meditations of the thinker; just like the executioner's axe when it

severs the head from the body. No sound cuts so sharply into the brain

as this cursed cracking of whips; one feels the prick of the whip-cord

in one's brain, which is affected in the same way as the _mimosa pudica_

is by touch, and which lasts the same length of time. With all respect

for the most holy doctrine of utility, I do not see why a fellow who is

removing a load of sand or manure should obtain the privilege of killing

in the bud the thoughts that are springing up in the heads of about ten

thousand people successively. (He is only half-an-hour on the road.)

Hammering, the barking of dogs, and the screaming of children are

abominable; but it is _only_ the cracking of a whip that is the true

murderer of thought. Its object is to destroy every favourable moment

that one now and then may have for reflection. If there were no other

means of urging on an animal than by making this most disgraceful of all

noises, one would forgive its existence. But it is quite the contrary:

this cursed cracking of whips is not only unnecessary but even useless.

The effect that it is intended to have on the horse mentally becomes

quite blunted and ineffective; since the constant abuse of it has

accustomed the horse to the crack, he does not quicken his pace for it.

This is especially noticeable in the unceasing crack of the whip which

comes from an empty vehicle as it is being driven at its slowest rate to

pick up a fare. The slightest touch with the whip would be more

effective. Allowing, however, that it were absolutely necessary to

remind the horse of the presence of the whip by continually cracking it,

a crack that made one hundredth part of the noise would be sufficient.

It is well known that animals in regard to hearing and seeing notice the

slightest indications, even indications that are scarcely perceptible to

ourselves. Trained dogs and canary birds furnish astonishing examples of

this. Accordingly, this cracking of whips must be regarded as something

purely wanton; nay, as an impudent defiance, on the part of those who

work with their hands, offered to those who work with their heads. That

such infamy is endured in a town is a piece of barbarity and injustice,

the more so as it could be easily removed by a police notice requiring

every whip cord to have a knot at the end of it. It would do no harm to

draw the proletariat's attention to the classes above him who work with

their heads; for he has unbounded fear of any kind of head work. A

fellow who rides through the narrow streets of a populous town with

unemployed post-horses or cart-horses, unceasingly cracking with all his

strength a whip several yards long, instantly deserves to dismount and

receive five really good blows with a stick. If all the philanthropists

in the world, together with all the legislators, met in order to bring

forward their reasons for the total abolition of corporal punishment, I

would not be persuaded to the contrary.

But we can see often enough something that is even still worse. I mean a

carter walking alone, and without any horses, through the streets

incessantly cracking his whip. He has become so accustomed to the crack

in consequence of its unwarrantable toleration. Since one looks after

one's body and all its needs in a most tender fashion, is the thinking

mind to be the only thing that never experiences the slightest

consideration or protection, to say nothing of respect? Carters,

sack-bearers (porters), messengers, and such-like, are the beasts of

burden of humanity; they should be treated absolutely with justice,

fairness, forbearance and care, but they ought not to be allowed to

thwart the higher exertions of the human race by wantonly making a

noise. I should like to know how many great and splendid thoughts these

whips have cracked out of the world. If I had any authority, I should

soon produce in the heads of these carters an inseparable _nexus

idearum_ between cracking a whip and receiving a whipping.

Let us hope that those nations with more intelligence and refined

feelings will make a beginning, and then by force of example induce the

Germans to do the same.[8] Meanwhile, hear what Thomas Hood says of them

(_Up the Rhine)_: "_For a musical people they are the most noisy I ever

met with_" That they are so is not due to their being more prone to

making a noise than other people, but to their insensibility, which

springs from obtuseness; they are not disturbed by it in reading or

thinking, because they do not think; they only smoke, which is their

substitute for thought. The general toleration of unnecessary noise, for

instance, of the clashing of doors, which is so extremely ill-mannered

and vulgar, is a direct proof of the dulness and poverty of thought that

one meets with everywhere. In Germany it seems as though it were planned

that no one should think for noise; take the inane drumming that goes on

as an instance. Finally, as far as the literature treated of in this

chapter is concerned, I have only one work to recommend, but it is an

excellent one: I mean a poetical epistle in _terzo rimo_ by the famous

painter Bronzino, entitled "_De' Romori: a Messer Luca Martini_" It

describes fully and amusingly the torture to which one is put by the

many kinds of noises of a small Italian town. It is written in

tragicomic style. This epistle is to be found in _Opere burlesche del

Berni, Aretino ed altri,_ vol. ii. p. 258, apparently published in

Utrecht in 1771.

The nature of our intellect is such that _ideas_ are said to spring by

abstraction from _observations_, so that the latter are in existence

before the former. If this is really what takes place, as is the case

with a man who has merely his own experience as his teacher and book, he

knows quite well which of his observations belong to and are represented

by each of his ideas; he is perfectly acquainted with both, and

accordingly he treats everything correctly that comes before his notice.

We might call this the natural mode of education.

On the other hand, an artificial education is having one's head crammed

full of ideas, derived from hearing others talk, from learning and

reading, before one has anything like an extensive knowledge of the

world as it is and as one sees it. The observations which produce all

these ideas are said to come later on with experience; but until then

these ideas are applied wrongly, and accordingly both things and men are

judged wrongly, seen wrongly, and treated wrongly. And so it is that

education perverts the mind; and this is why, after a long spell of

learning and reading, we enter the world, in our youth, with views that

are partly simple, partly perverted; consequently we comport ourselves

with an air of anxiety at one time, at another of presumption. This is

because our head is full of ideas which we are now trying to make use

of, but almost always apply wrongly. This is the result of [Greek:

hysteron proteron] (putting the cart before the horse), since we are

directly opposing the natural development of our mind by obtaining ideas

first and observations last; for teachers, instead of developing in a

boy his faculties of discernment and judgment, and of thinking for

himself, merely strive to stuff his head full of other people's

thoughts. Subsequently, all the opinions that have sprung from

misapplied ideas have to be rectified by a lengthy experience; and it is

seldom that they are completely rectified. This is why so few men of

learning have such sound common sense as is quite common among the

illiterate.

* * * * *

From what has been said, the principal point in education is that _one's

knowledge of the world begins at the right end;_ and the attainment of

which might be designated as the aim of all education. But, as has been

pointed out, this depends principally on the observation of each thing

preceding the idea one forms of it; further, that narrow ideas precede

broader; so that the whole of one's instruction is given in the order

that the ideas themselves during formation must have followed. But

directly this order is not strictly adhered to, imperfect and

subsequently wrong ideas spring up; and finally there arises a perverted

view of the world in keeping with the nature of the individual--a view

such as almost every one holds for a long time, and most people to the

end of their lives. If a man analyses his own character, he will find

that it was not until he reached a very ripe age, and in some cases

quite unexpectedly, that he was able to rightly and clearly understand

many matters of a quite simple nature.

Previously, there had been an obscure point in his knowledge of the

world which had arisen through his omitting something in his early

education, whether he had been either artificially educated by men or

just naturally by his own experience. Therefore one should try to find

out the strictly natural course of knowledge, so that by keeping

methodically to it children may become acquainted with the affairs of

the world, without getting false ideas into their heads, which

frequently cannot be driven out again. In carrying this out, one must

next take care that children do not use words with which they connect no

clear meaning. Even children have, as a rule, that unhappy tendency of

being satisfied with words instead of wishing to understand things, and

of learning words by heart, so that they may make use of them when they

are in a difficulty. This tendency clings to them afterwards, so that

the knowledge of many learned men becomes mere verbosity.

However, the principal thing must always be to let one's observations

precede one's ideas, and not the reverse as is usually and unfortunately

the case; which may be likened to a child coming into the world with its

feet foremost, or a rhyme begun before thinking of its reason. While the

child's mind has made a very few observations one inculcates it with

ideas and opinions, which are, strictly speaking, prejudices. His

observations and experience are developed through this ready-made

apparatus instead of his ideas being developed out of his own

observations. In viewing the world one sees many things from many sides,

consequently this is not such a short or quick way of learning as that

which makes use of abstract ideas, and quickly comes to a decision about

everything; therefore preconceived ideas will not be rectified until

late, or it may be they are never rectified. For, when a man's view

contradicts his ideas, he will reject at the outset what it renders

evident as one-sided, nay, he will deny it and shut his eyes to it, so

that his preconceived ideas may remain unaffected. And so it happens

that many men go through life full of oddities, caprices, fancies, and

prejudices, until they finally become fixed ideas. He has never

attempted to abstract fundamental ideas from his own observations and

experience, because he has got everything ready-made from other people;

and it is for this very reason that he and countless others are so

insipid and shallow. Instead of such a system, the natural system of

education should be employed in educating children. No idea should be

impregnated but what has come through the medium of observations, or at

any rate been verified by them. A child would have fewer ideas, but they

would be well-grounded and correct. It would learn to measure things

according to its own standard and not according to another's. It would

then never acquire a thousand whims and prejudices which must be

eradicated by the greater part of subsequent experience and education.

Its mind would henceforth be accustomed to thoroughness and clearness;

the child would rely on its own judgment, and be free from prejudices.

And, in general, children should not get to know life, in any aspect

whatever, from the copy before they have learnt it from the original.

Instead, therefore, of hastening to place mere books in their hands, one

should make them gradually acquainted with things and the circumstances

of human life, and above everything one should take care to guide them

to a clear grasp of reality, and to teach them to obtain their ideas

directly from the real world, and to form them in keeping with it--but

not to get them from elsewhere, as from books, fables, or what others

have said--and then later to make use of such ready-made ideas in real

life. The result will be that their heads are full of chimeras and that

some will have a wrong comprehension of things, and others will

fruitlessly endeavour to remodel the world according to those chimeras,

and so get on to wrong paths both in theory and practice. For it is

incredible how much harm is done by false notions which have been

implanted early in life, only to develop later on into prejudices; the

later education which we get from the world and real life must be

employed in eradicating these early ideas. And this is why, as is

related by Diogenes Laertius, Antisthenes gave the following answer:

[Greek: erotaetheis ti ton mathaematon anankaiotaton, ephae, "to kaka

apomathein."] (_Interrogatus quaenam esset disciplina maxime necessaria,

Mala, inquit, dediscere_.)

* * * * *

Children should be kept from all kinds of instruction that may make

errors possible until their sixteenth year, that is to say, from

philosophy, religion, and general views of every description; because it

is the errors that are acquired in early days that remain, as a rule,

ineradicable, and because the faculty of judgment is the last to arrive

at maturity. They should only be interested in such things that make

errors impossible, such as mathematics, in things which are not very

dangerous, such as languages, natural science, history, and so forth; in

general, the branches of knowledge which are to be taken up at any age

must be within reach of the intellect at that age and perfectly

comprehensible to it. Childhood and youth are the time for collecting

data and getting to know specially and thoroughly individual and

particular things. On the other hand, all judgment of a general nature

must at that time be suspended, and final explanations left alone. One

should leave the faculty of judgment alone, as it only comes with

maturity and experience, and also take care that one does not anticipate

it by inculcating prejudice, when it will be crippled for ever.

On the contrary, the memory is to be specially exercised, as it has its

greatest strength and tenacity in youth; however, what has to be

retained must be chosen with the most careful and scrupulous

consideration. For as it is what we have learnt well in our youth that

lasts, we should take the greatest possible advantage of this precious

gift. If we picture to ourselves how deeply engraven on our memory the

people are whom we knew during the first twelve years of our life, and

how indelibly imprinted are also the events of that time, and most of

the things that we then experienced, heard, or learnt, the idea of

basing education on this susceptibility and tenacity of the youthful

mind will seem natural; in that the mind receives its impressions

according to a strict method and a regular system. But because the years

of youth that are assigned to man are only few, and the capacity for

remembering, in general, is always limited (and still more so the

capacity for remembering of the individual), everything depends on the

memory being filled with what is most essential and important in any

department of knowledge, to the exclusion of everything else. This

selection should be made by the most capable minds and masters in every

branch of knowledge after the most mature consideration, and the result

of it established. Such a selection must be based on a sifting of

matters which are necessary and important for a man to know in general,

and also for him to know in a particular profession or calling.

Knowledge of the first kind would have to be divided into graduated

courses, like an encyclopædia, corresponding to the degree of general

culture which each man has attained in his external circumstances; from

a course restricted to what is necessary for primary instruction up to

the matter contained in every branch of the philosophical faculty.

Knowledge of the second kind would, however, be reserved for him who had

really mastered the selection in all its branches. The whole would give

a canon specially devised for intellectual education, which naturally

would require revision every ten years. By such an arrangement the

youthful power of the memory would be put to the best advantage, and it

would furnish the faculty of judgment with excellent material when it

appeared later on.

* * * * *

What is meant by maturity of knowledge is that state of perfection to

which any one individual is able to bring it, when an exact

correspondence has been effected between the whole of his abstract ideas

and his own personal observations: whereby each of his ideas rests

directly or indirectly on a basis of observation, which alone gives it

any real value; and likewise he is able to place every observation that

he makes under the right idea corresponding to it.

_Maturity_ of knowledge is the work of experience alone, and

consequently of time. For the knowledge we acquire from our own

observation is, as a rule, distinct from that we get through abstract

ideas; the former is acquired in the natural way, while the latter comes

through good and bad instruction and what other people have told to us.

Consequently, in youth there is generally little harmony and connection

between our ideas, which mere expressions have fixed, and our real

knowledge, which has been acquired by observation. Later they both

gradually approach and correct each other; but maturity of knowledge

does not exist until they have become quite incorporated. This maturity

is quite independent of that other kind of perfection, the standard of

which may be high or low, I mean the perfection to which the capacities

of an individual may be brought; it is not based on a correspondence

between the abstract and intuitive knowledge, but on the degree of

intensity of each.

The most necessary thing for the practical man is the attainment of an

exact and thorough knowledge of _what is really going on in the world;_

but it is also the most irksome, for a man may continue studying until

old age without having learnt all that is to be learnt; while one can

master the most important things in the sciences in one's youth. In

getting such a knowledge of the world, it is as a novice that the boy

and youth have the first and most difficult lessons to learn; but

frequently even the matured man has still much to learn. The study is of

considerable difficulty in itself, but it is made doubly difficult by

_novels_, which depict the ways of the world and of men who do not exist

in real life. But these are accepted with the credulity of youth, and

become incorporated with the mind; so that now, in the place of purely

negative ignorance, a whole framework of wrong ideas, which are

positively wrong, crops up, subsequently confusing the schooling of

experience and representing the lesson it teaches in a false light. If

the youth was previously in the dark, he will now be led astray by a

will-o'-the-wisp: and with a girl this is still more frequently the

case. They have been deluded into an absolutely false view of life by

reading novels, and expectations have been raised that can never be

fulfilled. This generally has the most harmful effect on their whole

lives. Those men who had neither time nor opportunity to read novels in

their youth, such as those who work with their hands, have decided

advantage over them. Few of these novels are exempt from reproach--nay,

whose effect is contrary to bad. Before all others, for instance, _Gil

Blas_ and the other works of Le Sage (or rather their Spanish

originals); further, _The Vicar of Wakefield_, and to some extent the

novels of Walter Scott. _Don Quixote_ may be regarded as a satirical

presentation of the error in question.

FOOTNOTES:

[8] According to a notice from the Munich Society for the Protection of

Animals, the superfluous whipping and cracking were strictly forbidden

in Nuremberg in December 1858.