[In the following essay, Sneath argues that Nosce Teipsum is a didactic poem and discusses Davies's philosophy in relation to the theology of his time.]

Having thus briefly studied the history of Davies and the sources of influence upon his thinking, let us next turn to a consideration of his philosophical poem. As has been suggested already, his most elaborate and important poem is Nosce Teipsum. This work is a unique production, presenting as it does, in a formal manner, a complete rational psychology or philosophy of mind in verse. It is, therefore, pre-eminently a didactic poem—the aim being to present systematically the author's speculations on the profound problems of the reality, nature, powers, and destiny of mind. The thought is not so much a means to an end as is the poetry. Poetry is used in the service of philosophy more than philosophy is used in the service of poetry. Light is to be thrown on great and vital problems, and poetry is used as the conduit of light.

The poem is divided into two parts—the first, dealing with human knowledge; the second, with the reality, nature, origin, powers, and immortality of the human soul. The first part serves as an introduction to the second. In it the poet takes an exceedingly discouraging view of human knowledge and of the mind's capacity to know. Knowledge is mixed with error and man's reason is dark. This fact admits of explanation. It was not always so. Once man possessed a God-infused knowledge, surpassing anything he has since acquired. Once Reason's eye was “sharpe and cleere,” capable of approaching very near to the “Eternal Light.” Thus it was in man's paradisiacal state. This was his intellectual status before the Fall. But the “Spirit of Lyes” suggested that he was blind because he knew not evil. The Devil could not show evil in the works of God while man stood in his perfection. If man was to know evil he must first do evil. This he did, and the result was fatal. Man “made Reason blind” “to give Passion eyes.” Through these eyes he first saw the foul forms of misery and woe, of nakedness and shame. Reason grew dark and could no longer discern the fair forms of Good and Truth. An impaired intellectual and moral vision was the outcome of man's fatal desire to know:—

“Battes they became, that eagles were before:
And this they got by their desire to learne.”

And we are no better than they. We continue to eat of the forbidden fruit. We continue to indulge a desire to learn. We turn with vain curiosity to find hidden knowledge in “bookes prophane.” And what, indeed, is this knowledge we seek? It is a poor, vain, empty affair. What is it—

                                                            “but the sky-stolne fire,
For which the thiefe still chain'd in ice doth sit?
And which the poore rude Satyre did admire,
And needs would kisse but burnt his lips with it.
“What is it? but the cloud of emptie raine,
          Which when Ioue's guest imbrac't, hee monsters
                    got?
          Or the false payles which oft being fild with paine,
          Receiv'd the water, but retain'd it not!
“Shortly, what is it but the firie coach
          Which the Youth sought, and sought his death
                    withal?
          Or the boye's wings, which when he did approch
          The sunne's hot beames, did melt and let him fall?”

Thus fruitless is our search for knowledge. After perusing “all the learned Volumes,” what can we know or discern—

“When Error chokes the windowes of the minde?”

What can we know when Reason's lamp which, before man's Fall, shone throughout his small world, like the sun in the sky, has become merely a half-extinct sparkle under ashes! How, under such conditions, can we recall the knowledge which was man's original possession by grace? A man painfully earning “a groate a day,” might as well hope to replace the large patrimony wasted by a profligate father. The utter vanity of human efforts after knowledge is affirmed by those who have most profoundly considered man's capacity to know. They have found that with us—

“Skill comes so slow, and life so fast doth flie,
We learne so little and forget so much.”

It was for this reason that the Greek philosopher said,—

“‘He knew nought, but that he nought did know.’”

And there was no mocking when “the great mocking-Master” said that “‘Truth was buried deepe below.’” Furthermore, how can we expect to know things, when no one understands himself—his own soul? Why should we accept the judgments of the soul concerning things, when it is unable to give a judgment concerning itself—as to the how, whence, where, and what of its own existence? We seek to know all things without, but are strangers to that within which constitutes our real self. Why is this so? Is it because the mind is like the eye, which fails to see itself in seeing other things? No! For the mind, while being the knowing subject, can also be the object of its own knowledge. The real trouble lies in the corruption of the mind. “She is so corrupt, and so defac't,” that she becomes frightened at her own image. Just as the fair lady in the fable, who was transformed into a cow because of her lust, became startled and fled in terror on beholding her changed self reflected in the stream, loathing “the watry glasse wherein she gaz'd,” so it is with man's soul. Once she bore the image of God, being fair, and good, and pure. Now her beauties are marred by sin, and she—

“Doth of all sights her owne sight least endure.”

This unsightliness of the soul leads her to turn away from herself, to seek delight in other things. And the prospect of external things is so inviting, so fair and agreeable, so sweet and alluring, that the mind succeeds in completely escaping from herself:—

“These things transport, and carry out the mind,
That with her selfe her selfe can neuer meet.”

There is one thing, however, which brings the soul back to herself. It is affliction. Just as spiders seek the inmost part of their webs when touched; and bees return to their hives in case of storm; and the blood gathers to the heart when danger appears; and men seek the towns when foes burn the country,—so the mind leaves the things which are without, and returns to herself within, when affliction's wars begin. These menacings of affliction, which drive the mind back to herself,—

“Teach vs to know our selues beyond all bookes,
Or all the learned Schooles that euer were.”

Our poet, referring doubtless to the disgrace incident upon his quarrel with Martin, and his consequent disbarment, his self-isolation and reflection, informs us, that of late affliction had visited him and had taught him “many a golden lesson.” It had quickened his senses, cleared his reason, reformed his will, and rectified his thought. It gave boundaries to his mind, so that it no longer ranged beyond itself:—

“My selfe am center of my circling thought,
Only my selfe I studie, learne, and know.”

The results of this introspection and reflection are presented in the second part of the poem, entitled, “Of the Soule of Man and the Immortalite thereof.”

Before entering upon a study of this second part of the poem it may be well to observe that the theory of knowledge contained in the poet's Introduction is not peculiar to Davies. In teaching an intellectual as well as a moral Fall of man he was simply expressing a view which was in accord with the prevalent Protestant theology of his time. It is the view of the Fall taught by Calvin in the Institutes of the Christian Religion, and attributed by him to Augustine. In his celebrated work just mentioned Calvin says: “I feel pleased with the well-known saying which has been borrowed from the writings of Augustine, that man's natural gifts were corrupted by sin, and his supernatural gifts withdrawn; meaning by supernatural gifts the light of faith and righteousness, which would have been sufficient for the attainment of heavenly life and everlasting felicity. Man, when he withdrew his allegiance to God, was deprived of the spiritual gifts by which he had been raised to the hope of eternal salvation. Hence it follows, that he is now an exile from the kingdom of God, so that all things which pertain to the blessed life of the soul are extinguished in him until he recover them by the grace of regeneration. Among these are faith, love to God, charity towards our neighbour, the study of righteousness and holiness. All these, when restored to us by Christ, are to be regarded as adventitious and above nature. If so, we infer that they were previously abolished. On the other hand, soundness of mind and integrity of heart were, at the same time, withdrawn, and it is this which constitutes the corruption of natural gifts. For although there is still some residue of intelligence and judgment as well as will, we cannot call a mind sound and entire which is both weak and immersed in darkness. As to the will, its depravity is but too well known. Therefore, since reason, by which man discerns between good and evil, and by which he understands and judges, is a natural gift, it could not be entirely destroyed; but being partly weakened and partly corrupted, a shapeless ruin is all that remains. In this sense it is said, (John i. 5), that ‘the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not’; these words clearly expressing both points, viz., that in the perverted and degenerate nature of man there are still some sparks which show that he is a rational animal, and differs from the brutes, inasmuch as he is endued with intelligence, and yet, that this light is so smothered by clouds of darkness that it cannot shine forth to any good effect. In like manner, the will, because inseparable from the nature of man, did not perish, but was so enslaved by depraved lusts as to be incapable of one righteous desire.”¹

The cumulative evidence of Davies's indebtedness to Calvin is such that it seems probable that he derived his conception of an intellectual Fall (which, as an explicit doctrine, is by no means common in Christian Theology) from him. Both thinkers are in agreement in regard to man's moral and intellectual status before the Fall. Man was then morally pure, and possessed of great intellectual strength. Of man's mental power prior to the Fall Calvin says: “Man excelled in these noble endowments in his primitive condition, when reason, intelligence, prudence, and judgment, not only sufficed for the government of his earthly life, but also enabled him to rise up to God and eternal happiness.”²

To the same effect, and in similar language, Davies describes the intellectual power of man before the Fall:—

“And when their reason's eye was sharpe and cleere,
          And (as an eagle can behold the sunne)
          Could haue approcht th' Eternall Light as neere,
          As the intellectuall angels could haue done,” etc.

Furthermore, both writers affirm a great intellectual and moral corruption and decline to be the consequence of the Fall. Here again, in the statement of the consequences to man's intellectual nature, there is not only sameness of teaching but similarity of language. Calvin, as we have seen in the quotation above, says: “Reason, by which man discerns between good and evil, and by which he understands and judges,” became weak and corrupt, and his previously sound mind became “immersed in darkness.” So Davies affirms:—

“But then grew Reason darke, that she no more,
          Could the faire formes of Good and Truth discern;
          Battes they became, that eagles were before:
          And this they got by their desire to learne.”

Again, they use similar language in describing more specifically the modicum of intelligence left to man after the Fall. Calvin says, as we have seen above, that man has still some “sparks” of intelligence left; but “that this light is so smothered by clouds of darkness that it cannot shine forth to any good effect.”

Davies likewise affirms, that “Reason's lampe”—

“Is now become a sparkle, which doth lie
          Vnder the ashes, halfe extinct, and dead.”

And, he asks:—

“How can we hope, that through the eye and eare,
          This dying sparkle, in this cloudy place,
          Can recollect these beames of knowledge cleere,
          Which were infus'd in the first minds by grace?”

So that we find not only a sameness of doctrine here but also a striking similarity of language in which the doctrine is presented.

Furthermore, Calvin in this same chapter (Bk. II. ch. ii.), which deals with the Fall of man, evaluates human knowledge just as Davies does in this connection in the verses quoted above. Both pronounce severely on its emptiness and vanity. He says: “There is, therefore, now, in the human mind, discernment to this extent, that it is naturally influenced by the love of truth, the neglect of which in the lower animals is a proof of their gross and irrational nature. Still it is true that this love of truth fails before it reaches the goal, forthwith falling away into vanity. As the human mind is unable, from dulness, to pursue the right path of investigation, and, after various wanderings, stumbling every now and then like one groping in darkness, at length gets completely bewildered, so its whole procedure proves how unfit it is to search the truth and find it.”³

It is just in this vein that the poet speaks of the vanity of human knowledge when he describes it as the “sky-stolne fire” by kissing which the admiring Satyr burned his lips; and as “the cloud of emptie raine” which, when embraced by Jove's guest, yielded only monsters; and as false pails, which, being filled by painful labor, failed to retain the water; and as the fiery coach, the seeking of which brought death to the youth; and, finally, as the boy's wings, which, as he approached the sun, melted “and let him fall.”

Thus early, then, in the poem, do we find, in the similarity of thought and language, evidence of the influence of Calvin on the poet. Further study of the poem will make this influence more manifest.

After Calvin's time the doctrine of an intellectual Fall was affirmed by the Synod of Dort, in the following words:—

“Homo ab initio ad imaginem DEI conditus vera et salutari sui Creatoris et rerum spiritualium notitia in mente, et justitia in voluntate et corde, puritate in omnibus affectibus exornatus, adeoque totus sanctus fuit; sed Diaboli instinctu, et libera sua voluntate a Deo desciscens, eximiis istis donis seipsum orbavit: atque e contrario eorum loco coecitatem, horribiles tenebras, vanitatem, ac perversitatem judicii in mente, malitiam, rebellionem, ac duritiem in voluntate et corde, impuritatem denique in omnibus affectibus contraxit.”⁴

The same doctrine is affirmed by the Reformed Dutch Church in America, it being an adoption from the Canons of the Synod of Dort: “Man was originally formed after the image of God. His understanding was adorned with a true and saving knowledge of his Creator, and of spiritual things; his heart and will were upright; all his affections pure, and the whole Man was holy; but revolting from God by the instigation of the devil, and abusing the freedom of his own will, he forfeited these excellent gifts, and on the contrary entailed on himself blindness of mind, horrible darkness, vanity, and perverseness of judgment; because wicked, rebellious, and obdurate in heart and will, and impure in (all) his affections.”⁵

The doctrine of an intellectual Fall appears also in recent theology. It is involved in the epistemology underlying the theology of some modern German theologians, one of the cardinal features of which is, that man's capacity to know the truth is materially affected by his moral character. Which conception, as applied to the doctrine of the Fall, would imply at least this much, that whatever may have been man's intellectual capacity prior to the Fall, the Fall being a moral one, necessarily involved an intellectual Fall as well. With Davies the intellectual power of man in the paradisiacal state was exceedingly great. He was an intellectual giant. Reason, as we have seen, was “sharpe and cleere,” with a capacity of approaching very near to the “Eternal Light.” His intellectual Fall was correspondingly great. It was a serious darkening of the moral and mental vision. And this moral impotency has been entailed upon the race. Hence the disparaging view, taken by our poet, of human knowledge and man's capacity to know.

Notes

1. Institutes of the Christian Religion, trans. by Henry Beveridge. Edinburgh, 1845, Vol. I. Bk. II. ch. ii. sec. 12. All quotations from Calvin are from Beveridge's translation.

2. Op. cit., Vol. I. Bk. I. ch. xv. sec. 8.

3. Op. cit., Vol. I. Bk. II. ch. ii. sec. 12.

4. Canones Synodi Dordrechtanæ, 1618-1619, Tertium et Quartum Doctrinæ Caput, Art. Primus.

5. Constitution of the Reformed Church in America. Cf. Schaff, The Creeds of Christendom. New York, 1877, pp. 587-588.