And in the following proposition, the seventh, of the same
part, he adds: _conatus, quo unaquoeque res in suo esse perseverare
conatur, nihil est proeter ipsius rei actualem essentiam_--that is, the
endeavour wherewith everything endeavours to persist in its own being is
nothing but the actual essence of the thing itself. This means that your
essence, reader, mine, that of the man Spinoza, that of the man Butler,
of the man Kant, and of every man who is a man, is nothing but the
endeavour, the effort, which he makes to continue to be a man, not to
die. And the other proposition which follows these two, the eighth,
says: _conatus, quo unaquoeque res in suo esse perseverare conatur,
nullum tempus finitum, sed indefinitum involvit_--that is, The endeavour
whereby each individual thing endeavours to persist involves no finite
time but indefinite time. That is to say that you, I, and Spinoza wish
never to die and that this longing of ours never to die is our actual
essence. Nevertheless, this poor Portuguese Jew, exiled in the mists of
Holland, could never attain to believing in his own personal
immortality, and all his philosophy was but a consolation which he
contrived for his lack of faith. Just as other men have a pain in hand
or foot, heart-ache or head-ache, so he had God-ache. Unhappy man! And
unhappy fellow-men!
And man, this thing, is he a thing? How absurd soever the question may
appear, there are some who have propounded it.
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