10. Recollections [II] and Romanticism

            First, a word about the quote I have permanently added to the page. In his writing, Cajal quotes and cites Goethe perhaps more than any other literary figure. This is a man who mistrusts most in the humanities. But, of course, Goethe is one of the greatest writers who has ever lived, having penned the romantic The Sorrows of Young Werther [so powerful that it is believed to have contributed to the rise in a generation's suicide rate] and the classic Faust [the protagonist seeks that which, "deep within it, binds the universe together"(382-3)]. The symbol of the rainbow in Faust II, Act 1 is as brilliant as in The Book of Genesis itself. But few know that Goethe was also a scientist; his most fascinating work was on color theory [no surprise, now, that he chose a rainbow as the "changing-unchanged" element, rising above this wordly turbulence]. I propose a definite intellectual kinship between Cajal and Goethe, both of whom undertook joint investigations of science and art and, in the process, dissolved the artificial barrier between the two. As young men, both endured phases of intense romanticism, but their greatest and most enduring contribution to the progress of human understanding came later, in maturity. The two geniuses agree on many things, including the faith in work and the futility of words. Perhaps one day I will venture a more in-depth comparison. But for now, I'll just joyfully read Faust once more. When I open the book, light pours out. That is despite the fact that it is more or less impossible to understand what is going on in that chaotic closet drama. Quite an achievement!

            For my bar-mitzvah in May 200, I received a book from our dear family friends. Their patriarch was a distinguished philosopher, Milton Munitz, whose first work on cosmology my mother helped publish. I remember that Milton was a warm and lovely man who happened to be brilliant. The book that his family gave me was called The Story of Philosophy, by Brian Magee [DK Publishing, 1998]. I just found it; I have it here before me. I opened the book, after ten years, to find the publisher's information and saw this inscription:

"Dear Ben, May you always search deeply for wisdom."

            I loved this book even though I did not understand it. One of my favorite philosophers was Søren Kierkegaard [I think I liked the swashbuckling slash through his first name's "o"]. Once, at the dinner table, I was talking about some idea I had read and my sister put down her fork emphatically and said "I DON'T CARE ABOUT KIKIKI!!! SHUT UP!" All of us had a big, healthy laugh. I love my sister because senses bullshit and will not stand for it. I still have read no Kierkegaard. Some guy in my Dostoevsky seminar at Middlebury invoked his name and drew a triangle on the board one day but it was too much of a stretch; I was hardly listening. One can get lost in the language of philosophy. Cajal describes it as a "mania."

            Anyway, looking in this book, Kierkegaard "proposed that the individual is "the supreme moral entity and that decision-making is the most important human activity -- through making choices we create our own lives"[209]. I agree with this, and so would Cajal. So maybe there is a [hyper]link here. But the real reason that I mention Kierkegaard is not to name-drop, or for association, but because I found a great quote from about genius:

"There are two kinds of geniuses. The characteristic of the one is roaring, but the lightning is meagre and rarely strikes; the other kind is characterized by reflection by which it constrains itself or restrains the roaring. But the lightning is all the more intense; with the speed and sureness of lightning it hits the selected particular points - and is fatal."

This is very insightful stuff. The first kind of genius is the one our discourse features most prominently. It is a very romantic concept of genius. Just look in your mind right now and describe what you see. Or, all we might need to do is think of the immediate associations. Or we could look on the wall or Facebook profile of a number of young people for Jack Kerouac's famous quote: "The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to etc." etc. etc. blah blah blah it's the Benzadrine talking. Pure emotion, like a drug, fast-acting but not long-lasting. But it feels great. Yes, it is always great if girls put your picture on their wall. Or tattoo your words on their arm.

I will admit: Also for my bar-mitzvah [an unexpected theme of this post] I received a copy of On the Road from my mother's best friend of fifty years for my bar-mitzvah. I devoured it. Me and three friends planned a cross-country trip. We found a wooden box, to which we each contributed a dollar-or-two a day, and buried it under our favorite graffiti tag [REBS] near the bus stop. [It was promptly stolen].

But for the love of a Literary God, when we talk about this important mania, romanticism, let's start to remember Nietzsche's even more beautiful, but less sexy quote, from Thus Spake Zarathustra:

"For I would rather have din and thunder and stormy cursing than this deliberate, dubious cat calm; and even among humans the ones I hate most are the soft steppers and half-and-halfs and dubious, dawdling drift-clouds."

[Oh boy . . . you feel the charge going through you? I do. Those are powerful, focused words. Because Nietzsche is such a careful wordsmith, that word "hate" is throbbing with real feeling like an angry heart. Most importantly, though he is an eminently skilled crafter of sentences, Nietzsche's stylization does not overtake his meaning. His words are solid and sweet, like hard candy. And I believe that naturalist imagery is always more purely accessibly than any other. Lightning is Nature's ultimate Roman candle. Sorry, Jack. I will still and always love you, like an old girlfriend].

           As a youth, Santiago Ramón y Cajal was as romantic as the protagonist of some nineteenth century French novel. In fact, he loved those books, which he found in his neighbor's house. His father, a "pure intellectual," did not allow fiction, or any fanciful flights of imagination for that matter. This included drawing, one of Cajal's gifts. Cajal had a "madness over drawing"[41]. In a truly hilarious episode, his father sought the advice of an artistic expert in order to paralyze his son's dreams. The only man available was a traveling house painter who was in town to whitewash the church's fire-burned walls. Young Santiago, eight years old, timidly presented drawing of an Apostle. The categorical verdict: "What a daub! Neither is this an Apostle, nor has the figure proportions, nor are the draperies right -- nor will the child ever be an artist"[40].

           But Cajal's art was not merely a hobby, it was a fever. He was addicted to the experience of Nature, "the intoxication of the aesthetic instinct,"[130] and would often take long walks by the Aragon river and contemplate adventure. "I gave rein joyfully to my romantic dreams and consoled myself for my sentimental solitude"[61]. In fact, the author uses a completely new vocabulary to describe his feelings, as though he were a different person under their influence. His words are from the vocabulary of sickness, learned, perhaps from his father. He regarded these indulgences as "frivolity and irregular behavior"[154]. Eventually, hepronounces himself "cured of his artistic madness"[129].

            He describes himself as having a "foolishly quixotic character"[213]. [More on Cajal's relationship to the Spanish hero at a later date]. Other terms: "determined and troublesome artistic tendencies"[99], "incorrigible idealism"[104], "dreamy sentimentality"[85]. Cajal was a very emotional youth, but, eventually, his powers of reason prevailed. I am learning a lot about his psychology and look forward to learning more as I receive more material. Apparently, in his youth, Cajal wrote poetic verses and an adventure novel; I have inquired as to their whereabouts. It is essential to remember that Cajal never lost his instincts, he only controlled them. As he says: "natural impulses, when they are very strong, may be modified somewhat, and often concealed themselves, but are never obliterated"[44]. Ain't that the truth!?

            In the second part of the autobiography, I look forward to reading about Cajal's incorporation artistic instincts into his scientific work. This is the nature of my investigation. It must have been a delicate balance.