{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_10833/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_10833","id":"gutenberg_10833","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10833","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Philosophy","Religion"],"text":"THE ESSAYS OF ARTHUR  SCHOPENHAUER\n\nRELIGION: A DIALOGUE, ETC.\n\nTRANSLATED BY T. BAILEY SAUNDERS, M.A.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\nPREFATORY NOTE\n\nRELIGION: A DIALOGUE\n\nA FEW WORDS ON PANTHEISM\n\nON BOOKS AND READING\n\nON PHYSIOGNOMY\n\nPSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS\n\nTHE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM\n\n\n\n\nPREFATORY NOTE\n\n\nSchopenhauer is one of the few philosophers who can be generally\nunderstood without a commentary. All his theories claim to be drawn\ndirect from the facts, to be suggested by observation, and to interpret\nthe world as it is; and whatever view he takes, he is constant in his\nappeal to the experience of common life. This characteristic endows his\nstyle with a freshness and vigor which would be difficult to match in\nthe philosophical writing of any country, and impossible in that of\nGermany. If it were asked whether there were any circumstances apart\nfrom heredity, to which he owed his mental habit, the answer might be\nfound in the abnormal character of his early education, his acquaintance\nwith the world rather than with books, the extensive travels of his\nboyhood, his ardent pursuit of knowledge for its own sake and without\nregard to the emoluments and endowments of learning. He was trained in\nrealities even more than in ideas; and hence he is original, forcible,\nclear, an enemy of all philosophic indefiniteness and obscurity; so that\nit may well be said of him, in the words of a writer in the _Revue\nContemporaine, ce n'est pas un philosophe comme les autres, c'est un\nphilosophe qui a vu le monde_.\n\nIt is not my purpose, nor would it be possible within the limits of a\nprefatory note, to attempt an account of Schopenhauer's philosophy, to\nindicate its sources, or to suggest or rebut the objections which may be\ntaken to it. M. Ribot, in his excellent little book, [Footnote: _La\nPhilosophie de Schopenhauer_, par Th. Ribot.] has done all that is\nnecessary in this direction. But the essays here presented need a word\nof explanation. It should be observed, and Schopenhauer himself is at\npains to point out, that his system is like a citadel with a hundred\ngates: at whatever point you take it up, wherever you make your\nentrance, you are on the road to the center. In this respect his\nwritings resemble a series of essays composed in support of a single\nthesis; a circumstance which led him to insist, more emphatically even\nthan most philosophers, that for a proper understanding of his system it\nwas necessary to read every line he had written. Perhaps it would be\nmore correct to describe _Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung_ as his\nmain thesis, and his other treatises as merely corollary to it. The\nessays in this volume form part of the corollary; they are taken from a\ncollection published towards the close of Schopenhauer's life, and by\nhim entitled _Parerga und Paralipomena_, as being in the nature of\nsurplusage and illustrative of his main position. They are by far the\nmost popular of his works, and since their first publication in 1851,\nthey have done much to build up his fame. Written so as to be\nintelligible enough in themselves, the tendency of many of them is\ntowards the fundamental idea on which his system is based. It may\ntherefore be convenient to summarize that idea in a couple of sentences;\nmore especially as Schopenhauer sometimes writes as if his advice had\nbeen followed and his readers were acquainted with the whole of his\nwork.\n\nAll philosophy is in some sense the endeavor to find a unifying\nprinciple, to discover the most general conception underlying the whole\nfield of nature and of knowledge. By one of those bold generalizations\nwhich occasionally mark a real advance in Science, Schopenhauer\nconceived this unifying principle, this underlying unity, to consist in\nsomething analogous to that _will_ which self-consciousness reveals to\nus. _Will_ is, according to him, the fundamental reality of the world,\nthe thing-in-itself; and its objectivation is what is presented in\nphenomena. The struggle of the will to realize itself evolves the\norganism, which in its turn evolves intelligence as the servant of the\nwill. And in practical life the antagonism between the will and the\nintellect arises from the fact that the former is the metaphysical\nsubstance, the latter something accidental and secondary. And further,\nwill is _desire_, that is to say, need of something; hence need and pain\nare what is positive in the world, and the only possible happiness is a\nnegation, a renunciation of _the will to live_.\n\nIt is instructive to note, as M. Ribot points out, that in finding the\norigin of all things, not in intelligence, as some of his predecessors\nin philosophy had done, but in will, or the force of nature, from which\nall phenomena have developed, Schopenhauer was anticipating something of\nthe scientific spirit of the nineteenth century. To this it may be added\nthat in combating the method of Fichte and Hegel, who spun a system out\nof abstract ideas, and in discarding it for one based on observation and\nexperience, Schopenhauer can be said to have brought down philosophy\nfrom heaven to earth.\n\nIn Schopenhauer's view the various forms of Religion are no less a\nproduct of human ingenuity than Art or Science. He holds, in effect,\nthat all religions take their rise in the desire to explain the world;\nand that, in regard to truth and error, they differ, in the main, not by\npreaching monotheism polytheism or pantheism, but in so far as they\nrecognize pessimism or optimism as the true description of life. Hence\nany religion which looked upon the world as being radically evil\nappealed to him as containing an indestructible element of truth. I have\nendeavored to present his view of two of the great religions of the\nworld in the extract which concludes this volume, and to which I have\ngiven the title of _The Christian System_. The tenor of it is to show\nthat, however little he may have been in sympathy with the supernatural\nelement, he owed much to the moral doctrines of Christianity and of\nBuddhism, between which he traced great resemblance. In the following\n_Dialogue_ he applies himself to a discussion of the practical efficacy\nof religious forms; and though he was an enemy of clericalism, his\nchoice of a method which allows both the affirmation and the denial of\nthat efficacy to be presented with equal force may perhaps have been\ndirected by the consciousness that he could not side with either view to\nthe exclusion of the other. In any case his practical philosophy was\ntouched with the spirit of Christianity. It was more than artistic\nenthusiasm which led him in profound admiration to the Madonna di San\nSisto:\n\n  Sie tr\u00e4gt zur Welt ihn, und er schaut entsetzt\n  In ihrer Gr\u00e4u'l chaotische Verwirrung,\n  In ihres Tobens wilde Raserei,\n  In ihres Treibens nie geheilte Thorheit,\n  In ihrer Quaalen nie gestillten Schmerz;\n  Entsetzt: doch strahlet Rub' and Zuversicht\n  Und Siegesglanz sein Aug', verk\u00fcndigend\n  Schon der Erl\u00f6sung ewige gewissheit.\n\nPessimism is commonly and erroneously supposed to be the distinguishing\nfeature of Schopenhauer's system. It is right to remember that the same\nfundamental view of the world is presented by Christianity, to say\nnothing of Oriental religions.\n\nThat Schopenhauer conceives life as an evil is a deduction, and possibly\na mistaken deduction, from his metaphysical theory. Whether his scheme\nof things is correct or not--and it shares the common fate of all\nmetaphysical systems in being unverifiable, and to that extent\nunprofitable--he will in the last resort have made good his claim to be\nread by his insight into the varied needs of human life. It may be that\na future age will consign his metaphysics to the philosophical\nlumber-room; but he is a literary artist as well as a philosopher, and\nhe can make a bid for fame in either capacity. What is remarked with\nmuch truth of many another writer, that he suggests more than he\nachieves, is in the highest degree applicable to Schopenhauer; and his\n_obiter dicta_, his sayings by the way, will always find an audience.\n\nT.B. SAUNDERS.\n\n\n\n\nRELIGION.\n\nA DIALOGUE.\n\n\n_Demopheles_. Between ourselves, my dear fellow, I don't care about the\nway you sometimes have of exhibiting your talent for philosophy; you\nmake religion a subject for sarcastic remarks, and even for open\nridicule. Every one thinks his religion sacred, and therefore you ought\nto respect it.\n\n_Philalethes_. That doesn't follow! I don't see why, because other\npeople are simpletons, I should have any regard for a pack of lies. I\nrespect truth everywhere, and so I can't respect what is opposed to it.\nMy maxim is _Vigeat veritas et pereat mundus_, like the lawyers' _Fiat\njustitia et pereat mundus_. Every profession ought to have an analogous\nadvice.\n\n_Demopheles_. Then I suppose doctors should say _Fiant pilulae et pereat\nmundus_,--there wouldn't be much difficulty about that!\n\n_Philalethes_. Heaven forbid! You must take everything _cum grano\nsalis_.\n\n_Demopheles_. Exactly; that's why I want you to take religion _cum grano\nsalis_. I want you to see that one must meet the requirements of the\npeople according to the measure of their comprehension. Where you have\nmasses of people of crude susceptibilities and clumsy intelligence,\nsordid in their pursuits and sunk in drudgery, religion provides the\nonly means of proclaiming and making them feel the hight import of life.\nFor the average man takes an interest, primarily, in nothing but what\nwill satisfy his physical needs and hankerings, and beyond this, give\nhim a little amusement and pastime. Founders of religion and\nphilosophers come into the world to rouse him from his stupor and point\nto the lofty meaning of existence; philosophers for the few, the\nemancipated, founders of religion for the many, for humanity at large.\nFor, as your friend Plato has said, the multitude can't be philosophers,\nand you shouldn't forget that. Religion is the metaphysics of the\nmasses; by all means let them keep it: let it therefore command external\nrespect, for to discredit it is to take it away. Just as they have\npopular poetry, and the popular wisdom of proverbs, so they must have\npopular metaphysics too: for mankind absolutely needs _an interpretation\nof life_; and this, again, must be suited to popular comprehension.\nConsequently, this interpretation is always an allegorical investiture\nof the truth: and in practical life and in its effects on the feelings,\nthat is to say, as a rule of action and as a comfort and consolation in\nsuffering and death, it accomplishes perhaps just as much as the truth\nitself could achieve if we possessed it. Don't take offense at its\nunkempt, grotesque and apparently absurd form; for with your education\nand learning, you have no idea of the roundabout ways by which people in\ntheir crude state have to receive their knowledge of deep truths. The\nvarious religions are only various forms in which the truth, which taken\nby itself is above their comprehension, is grasped and realized by the\nmasses; and truth becomes inseparable from these forms. Therefore, my\ndear sir, don't take it amiss if I say that to make a mockery of these\nforms is both shallow and unjust.\n\n_Philalethes_. But isn't it every bit as shallow and unjust to demand\nthat there shall be no other system of metaphysics but this one, cut out\nas it is to suit the requirements and comprehension of the masses? that\nits doctrine shall be the limit of human speculation, the standard of\nall thought, so that the metaphysics of the few, the emancipated, as you\ncall them, must be devoted only to confirming, strengthening, and\nexplaining the metaphysics of the masses? that the highest powers of\nhuman intelligence shall remain unused and undeveloped, even be nipped\nin the bud, in order that their activity may not thwart the popular\nmetaphysics? And isn't this just the very claim which religion sets up?\nIsn't it a little too much to have tolerance and delicate forbearance\npreached by what is intolerance and cruelty itself? Think of the\nheretical tribunals, inquisitions, religious wars, crusades, Socrates'\ncup of poison, Bruno's and Vanini's death in the flames! Is all this\nto-day quite a thing of the past? How can genuine philosophical effort,\nsincere search after truth, the noblest calling of the noblest men, be\nlet and hindered more completely than by a conventional system of\nmetaphysics enjoying a State monopoly, the principles of which are\nimpressed into every head in earliest youth, so earnestly, so deeply,\nand so firmly, that, unless the mind is miraculously elastic, they\nremain indelible. In this way the groundwork of all healthy reason is\nonce for all deranged; that is to say, the capacity for original thought\nand unbiased judgment, which is weak enough in itself, is, in regard to\nthose subjects to which it might be applied, for ever paralyzed and\nruined.\n\n_Demopheles._ Which means, I suppose, that people have arrived at a\nconviction which they won't give up in order to embrace yours instead.\n\n_Philalethes_. Ah! if it were only a conviction based on insight. Then\none could bring arguments to bear, and the battle would be fought with\nequal weapons. But religions admittedly appeal, not to conviction as the\nresult of argument, but to belief as demanded by revelation. And as the\ncapacity for believing is strongest in childhood, special care is taken\nto make sure of this tender age. This has much more to do with the\ndoctrines of belief taking root than threats and reports of miracles.\nIf, in early childhood, certain fundamental views and doctrines are\nparaded with unusual solemnity, and an air of the greatest earnestness\nnever before visible in anything else; if, at the same time, the\npossibility of a doubt about them be completely passed over, or touched\nupon only to indicate that doubt is the first step to eternal perdition,\nthe resulting impression will be so deep that, as a rule, that is, in\nalmost every case, doubt about them will be almost as impossible as\ndoubt about one's own existence. Hardly one in ten thousand will have\nthe strength of mind to ask himself seriously and earnestly--is that\ntrue? To call such as can do it strong minds, _esprits forts_, is a\ndescription more apt than is generally supposed. But for the ordinary\nmind there is nothing so absurd or revolting but what, if inculcated in\nthat way, the strongest belief in it will strike root. If, for example,\nthe killing of a heretic or infidel were essential to the future\nsalvation of his soul, almost every one would make it the chief event of\nhis life, and in dying would draw consolation and strength from the\nremembrance that he had succeeded. As a matter of fact, almost every\nSpaniard in days gone by used to look upon an _auto da fe_ as the most\npious of all acts and one most agreeable to God. A parallel to this may\nbe found in the way in which the Thugs (a religious sect in India,\nsuppressed a short time ago by the English, who executed numbers of\nthem) express their sense of religion and their veneration for the\ngoddess Kali; they take every opportunity of murdering their friends and\ntraveling companions, with the object of getting possession of their\ngoods, and in the serious conviction that they are thereby doing a\npraiseworthy action, conducive to their eternal welfare. [Footnote: Cf.\nIllustrations of the history and practice of the Thugs, London, 1837;\nalso the _Edinburg Review_, Oct.-Jan., 1836-7.] The power of religious\ndogma, when inculcated early, is such as to stifle conscience,\ncompassion, and finally every feeling of humanity. But if you want to\nsee with your own eyes and close at hand what timely inoculation will\naccomplish, look at the English. Here is a nation favored before all\nothers by nature; endowed, more than all others, with discernment,\nintelligence, power of judgment, strength of character; look at them,\nabased and made ridiculous, beyond all others, by their stupid\necclesiastical superstition, which appears amongst their other abilities\nlike a fixed idea or monomania. For this they have to thank the\ncircumstance that education is in the hands of the clergy, whose\nendeavor it is to impress all the articles of belief, at the earliest\nage, in a way that amounts to a kind of paralysis of the brain; this in\nits turn expresses itself all their life in an idiotic bigotry, which\nmakes otherwise most sensible and intelligent people amongst them\ndegrade themselves so that one can't make head or tail of them. If you\nconsider how essential to such a masterpiece is inoculation in the\ntender age of childhood, the missionary system appears no longer only as\nthe acme of human importunity, arrogance and impertinence, but also as\nan absurdity, if it doesn't confine itself to nations which are still in\ntheir infancy, like Caffirs, Hottentots, South Sea Islanders, etc.\nAmongst these races it is successful; but in India, the Brahmans treat\nthe discourses of the missionaries with contemptuous smiles of\napprobation, or simply shrug their shoulders. And one may say generally\nthat the proselytizing efforts of the missionaries in India, in spite of\nthe most advantageous facilities, are, as a rule, a failure. An\nauthentic report in the Vol. XXI. of the Asiatic Journal (1826) states\nthat after so many years of missionary activity not more than three\nhundred living converts were to be found in the whole of India, where\nthe population of the English possessions alone comes to one hundred and\nfifteen millions; and at the same time it is admitted that the Christian\nconverts are distinguished for their extreme immorality. Three hundred\nvenal and bribed souls out of so many millions! There is no evidence\nthat things have gone better with Christianity in India since then, in\nspite of the fact that the missionaries are now trying, contrary to\nstipulation and in schools exclusively designed for secular English\ninstruction, to work upon the children's minds as they please, in order\nto smuggle in Christianity; against which the Hindoos are most jealously\non their guard. As I have said, childhood is the time to sow the seeds\nof belief, and not manhood; more especially where an earlier faith has\ntaken root. An acquired conviction such as is feigned by adults is, as a\nrule, only the mask for some kind of personal interest. And it is the\nfeeling that this is almost bound to be the case which makes a man who\nhas changed his religion in mature years an object of contempt to most\npeople everywhere; who thus show that they look upon religion, not as a\nmatter of reasoned conviction, but merely as a belief inoculated in\nchildhood, before any test can be applied. And that they are right in\ntheir view of religion is also obvious from the way in which not only\nthe masses, who are blindly credulous, but also the clergy of every\nreligion, who, as such, have faithfully and zealously studied its\nsources, foundations, dogmas and disputed points, cleave as a body to\nthe religion of their particular country; consequently for a minister of\none religion or confession to go over to another is the rarest thing in\nthe world. The Catholic clergy, for example, are fully convinced of the\ntruth of all the tenets of their Church, and so are the Protestant\nclergy of theirs, and both defend the principles of their creeds with\nlike zeal. And yet the conviction is governed merely by the country\nnative to each; to the South German ecclesiastic the truth of the\nCatholic dogma is quite obvious, to the North German, the Protestant. If\nthen, these convictions are based on objective reasons, the reasons must\nbe climatic, and thrive, like plants, some only here, some only there.\nThe convictions of those who are thus locally convinced are taken on\ntrust and believed by the masses everywhere.\n\n_Demopheles_. Well, no harm is done, and it doesn't make any real\ndifference. As a fact, Protestantism is more suited to the North,\nCatholicism to the South.\n\n_Philalethes_. So it seems. Still I take a higher standpoint, and keep\nin view a more important object, the progress, namely, of the knowledge\nof truth among mankind. And from this point of view, it is a terrible\nthing that, wherever a man is born, certain propositions are inculcated\nin him in earliest youth, and he is assured that he may never have any\ndoubts about them, under penalty of thereby forfeiting eternal\nsalvation; propositions, I mean, which affect the foundation of all our\nother knowledge and accordingly determine for ever, and, if they are\nfalse, distort for ever, the point of view from which our knowledge\nstarts; and as, further, the corollaries of these propositions touch the\nentire system of our intellectual attainments at every point, the whole\nof human knowledge is thoroughly adulterated by them. Evidence of this\nis afforded by every literature; the most striking by that of the Middle\nAge, but in a too considerable degree by that of the fifteenth and\nsixteenth centuries. Look at even the first minds of all those epochs;\nhow paralyzed they are by false fundamental positions like these; how,\nmore especially, all insight into the true constitution and working of\nnature is, as it were, blocked up. During the whole of the Christian\nperiod Theism lies like a mountain on all intellectual, and chiefly on\nall philosophical efforts, and arrests or stunts all progress. For the\nscientific men of these ages God, devil, angels, demons hid the whole of\nnature; no inquiry was followed to the end, nothing ever thoroughly\nexamined; everything which went beyond the most obvious casual nexus was\nimmediately set down to those personalities. \"_It was at once explained\nby a reference to God, angels or demons_,\" as Pomponatius expressed\nhimself when the matter was being discussed, \"_and philosophers at any\nrate have nothing analogous_.\" There is, to be sure, a suspicion of\nirony in this statement of Pomponatius, as his perfidy in other matters\nis known; still, he is only giving expression to the general way of\nthinking of his age. And if, on the other hand, any one possessed the\nrare quality of an elastic mind, which alone could burst the bonds, his\nwritings and he himself with them were burnt; as happened to Bruno and\nVanini. How completely an ordinary mind is paralyzed by that early\npreparation in metaphysics is seen in the most vivid way and on its most\nridiculous side, where such a one undertakes to criticise the doctrines\nof an alien creed. The efforts of the ordinary man are generally found\nto be directed to a careful exhibition of the incongruity of its dogmas\nwith those of his own belief: he is at great pains to show that not only\ndo they not say, but certainly do not mean, the same thing; and with\nthat he thinks, in his simplicity, that he has demonstrated the\nfalsehood of the alien creed. He really never dreams of putting the\nquestion which of the two may be right; his own articles of belief he\nlooks upon as _\u00e0 priori_ true and certain principles.\n\n_Demopheles_. So that's your higher point of view? I assure you there is\na higher still. _First live, then philosophize_ is a maxim of more\ncomprehensive import than appears at first sight. The first thing to do\nis to control the raw and evil dispositions of the masses, so as to keep\nthem from pushing injustice to extremes, and from committing cruel,\nviolent and disgraceful acts. If you were to wait until they had\nrecognized and grasped the truth, you would undoubtedly come too late;\nand truth, supposing that it had been found, would surpass their powers\nof comprehension. In any case an allegorical investiture of it, a\nparable or myth, is all that would be of any service to them. As Kant\nsaid, there must be a public standard of Right and Virtue; it must\nalways flutter high overhead. It is a matter of indifference what\nheraldic figures are inscribed on it, so long as they signify what is\nmeant. Such an allegorical representation of truth is always and\neverywhere, for humanity at large, a serviceable substitute for a truth\nto which it can never attain,--for a philosophy which it can never\ngrasp; let alone the fact that it is daily changing its shape, and has\nin no form as yet met with general acceptance. Practical aims, then, my\ngood Philalethes, are in every respect superior to theoretical.\n\n_Philalethes_. What you say is very like the ancient advice of Timaeus\nof Locrus, the Pythagorean, _stop the mind with falsehood if you can't\nspeed it with truth_. I almost suspect that your plan is the one which\nis so much in vogue just now, that you want to impress upon me that\n\n  The hour is nigh\n  When we may feast in quiet.\n\nYou recommend us, in fact, to take timely precautions, so that the waves\nof the discontented raging masses mayn't disturb us at table. But the\nwhole point of view is as false as it is now-a-days popular and\ncommended; and so I make haste to enter a protest against it. It is\n_false_, that state, justice, law cannot be upheld without the\nassistance of religion and its dogmas; and that justice and public order\nneed religion as a necessary complement, if legislative enactments are\nto be carried out. It is _false_, were it repeated a hundred times. An\neffective and striking argument to the contrary is afforded by the\nancients, especially the Greeks. They had nothing at all of what we\nunderstand by religion. They had no sacred documents, no dogma to be\nlearned and its acceptance furthered by every one, its principles to be\ninculcated early on the young. Just as little was moral doctrine\npreached by the ministers of religion, nor did the priests trouble\nthemselves about morality or about what the people did or left undone.\nNot at all. The duty of the priests was confined to temple-ceremonial,\nprayers, hymns, sacrifices, processions, lustrations and the like, the\nobject of which was anything but the moral improvement of the\nindividual. What was called religion consisted, more especially in the\ncities, in giving temples here and there to some of the gods of the\ngreater tribes, in which the worship described was carried on as a state\nmatter, and was consequently, in fact, an affair of police. No one,\nexcept the functionaries performing, was in any way compelled to attend,\nor even to believe in it. In the whole of antiquity there is no trace of\nany obligation to believe in any particular dogma. Merely in the case of\nan open denial of the existence of the gods, or any other reviling of\nthem, a penalty was imposed, and that on account of the insult offered\nto the state, which served those gods; beyond this it was free to\neveryone to think of them what he pleased. If anyone wanted to gain the\nfavor of those gods privately, by prayer or sacrifice, it was open to\nhim to do so at his own expense and at his own risk; if he didn't do it,\nno one made any objection, least of all the state. In the case of the\nRomans, everyone had his own Lares and Penates at home; they were,\nhowever, in reality, only the venerated busts of ancestors. Of the\nimmortality of the soul and a life beyond the grave, the ancients had no\nfirm, clear or, least of all, dogmatically fixed idea, but very loose,\nfluctuating, indefinite and problematical notions, everyone in his own\nway: and the ideas about the gods were just as varying, individual and\nvague. There was, therefore, really no _religion_, in our sense of the\nword, amongst the ancients. But did anarchy and lawlessness prevail\namongst them on that account? Is not law and civil order, rather, so\nmuch their work, that it still forms the foundation of our own? Was\nthere not complete protection for property, even though it consisted for\nthe most part of slaves? And did not this state of things last for more\nthan a thousand years? So that I can't recognize, I must even protest\nagainst the practical aims and the necessity of religion in the sense\nindicated by you, and so popular now-a-days, that is, as an\nindispensable foundation of all legislative arrangements. For, if you\ntake that point of view, the pure and sacred endeavor after truth would,\nto say the least, appear quixotic, and even criminal, if it ventured, in\nits feeling of justice, to denounce the authoritative creed as a usurper\nwho had taken possession of the throne of truth and maintained his\nposition by keeping up the deception.\n\n_Demopheles_. But religion is not opposed to truth; it itself teaches\ntruth. And as the range of its activity is not a narrow lecture room,\nbut the world and humanity at large, religion must conform to the\nrequirements and comprehension of an audience so numerous and so mixed.\nReligion must not let truth appear in its naked form; or, to use a\nmedical simile, it must not exhibit it pure, but must employ a mythical\nvehicle, a medium, as it were. You can also compare truth in this\nrespect to certain chemical stuffs which in themselves are gaseous, but\nwhich for medicinal uses, as also for preservation or transmission, must\nbe bound to a stable, solid base, because they would otherwise\nvolatilize. Chlorine gas, for example, is for all purposes applied only\nin the form of chlorides. But if truth, pure, abstract and free from all\nmythical alloy, is always to remain unattainable, even by philosophers,\nit might be compared to fluorine, which cannot even be isolated, but\nmust always appear in combination with other elements. Or, to take a\nless scientific simile, truth, which is inexpressible except by means of\nmyth and allegory, is like water, which can be carried about only in\nvessels; a philosopher who insists on obtaining it pure is like a man\nwho breaks the jug in order to get the water by itself. This is,\nperhaps, an exact analogy. At any rate, religion is truth allegorically\nand mythically expressed, and so rendered attainable and digestible by\nmankind in general. Mankind couldn't possibly take it pure and unmixed,\njust as we can't breathe pure oxygen; we require an addition of four\ntimes its bulk in nitrogen. In plain language, the profound meaning, the\nhigh aim of life, can only be unfolded and presented to the masses\nsymbolically, because they are incapable of grasping it in its true\nsignification. Philosophy, on the other hand, should be like the\nEleusinian mysteries, for the few, the _\u00e9lite_.\n\n_Philalethes_. I understand. It comes, in short, to truth wearing the\ngarment of falsehood. But in doing so it enters on a fatal alliance.\nWhat a dangerous weapon is put into the hands of those who are\nauthorized to employ falsehood as the vehicle of truth! If it is as you\nsay, I fear the damage caused by the falsehood will be greater than any\nadvantage the truth could ever produce. Of course, if the allegory were\nadmitted to be such, I should raise no objection; but with the admission\nit would rob itself of all respect, and consequently, of all utility.\nThe allegory must, therefore, put in a claim to be true in the proper\nsense of the word, and maintain the claim; while, at the most, it is\ntrue only in an allegorical sense. Here lies the irreparable mischief,\nthe permanent evil; and this is why religion has always been and always\nwill be in conflict with the noble endeavor after pure truth.\n\n_Demopheles_. Oh no! that danger is guarded against. If religion mayn't\nexactly confess its allegorical nature, it gives sufficient indication\nof it.\n\n_Philalethes_. How so?\n\n_Demopheles_. In its mysteries. \"Mystery,\" is in reality only a\ntechnical theological term for religious allegory. All religions have\ntheir mysteries. Properly speaking, a mystery is a dogma which is\nplainly absurd, but which, nevertheless, conceals in itself a lofty\ntruth, and one which by itself would be completely incomprehensible to\nthe ordinary understanding of the raw multitude. The multitude accepts\nit in this disguise on trust, and believes it, without being led astray\nby the absurdity of it, which even to its intelligence is obvious; and\nin this way it participates in the kernel of the matter so far as it is\npossible for it to do so. To explain what I mean, I may add that even in\nphilosophy an attempt has been made to make use of a mystery. Pascal,\nfor example, who was at once a pietist, a mathematician, and a\nphilosopher, says in this threefold capacity: _God is everywhere center\nand nowhere periphery_. Malebranche has also the just remark: _Liberty\nis a mystery_. One could go a step further and maintain that in\nreligions everything is mystery. For to impart truth, in the proper\nsense of the word, to the multitude in its raw state is absolutely\nimpossible; all that can fall to its lot is to be enlightened by a\nmythological reflection of it. Naked truth is out of place before the\neyes of the profane vulgar; it can only make its appearance thickly\nveiled. Hence, it is unreasonable to require of a religion that it shall\nbe true in the proper sense of the word; and this, I may observe in\npassing, is now-a-days the absurd contention of Rationalists and\nSupernaturalists alike. Both start from the position that religion must\nbe the real truth; and while the former demonstrate that it is not the\ntruth, the latter obstinately maintain that it is; or rather, the former\ndress up and arrange the allegorical element in such a way, that, in the\nproper sense of the word, it could be true, but would be, in that case,\na platitude; while the latter wish to maintain that it is true in the\nproper sense of the word, without any further dressing; a belief, which,\nas we ought to know is only to be enforced by inquisitions and the\nstake. As a fact, however, myth and allegory really form the proper\nelement of religion; and under this indispensable condition, which is\nimposed by the intellectual limitation of the multitude, religion\nprovides a sufficient satisfaction for those metaphysical requirements\nof mankind which are indestructible. It takes the place of that pure\nphilosophical truth which is infinitely difficult and perhaps never\nattainable.\n\n_Philalethes_. Ah! just as a wooden leg takes the place of a natural\none; it supplies what is lacking, barely does duty for it, claims to be\nregarded as a natural leg, and is more or less artfully put together.\nThe only difference is that, whilst a natural leg as a rule preceded the\nwooden one, religion has everywhere got the start of philosophy.\n\n_Demopheles_. That may be, but still for a man who hasn't a natural leg,\na wooden one is of great service. You must bear in mind that the\nmetaphysical needs of mankind absolutely require satisfaction, because\nthe horizon of men's thoughts must have a background and not remain\nunbounded. Man has, as a rule, no faculty for weighing reasons and\ndiscriminating between what is false and what is true; and besides, the\nlabor which nature and the needs of nature impose upon him, leaves him\nno time for such enquiries, or for the education which they presuppose.\nIn his case, therefore, it is no use talking of a reasoned conviction;\nhe has to fall back on belief and authority. If a really true philosophy\nwere to take the place of religion, nine-tenths at least of mankind\nwould have to receive it on authority; that is to say, it too would be a\nmatter of faith, for Plato's dictum, that the multitude can't be\nphilosophers, will always remain true. Authority, however, is an affair\nof time and circumstance alone, and so it can't be bestowed on that\nwhich has only reason in its favor, it must accordingly be allowed to\nnothing but what has acquired it in the course of history, even if it is\nonly an allegorical representation of truth. Truth in this form,\nsupported by authority, appeals first of all to those elements in the\nhuman constitution which are strictly metaphysical, that is to say, to\nthe need man feels of a theory in regard to the riddle of existence\nwhich forces itself upon his notice, a need arising from the\nconsciousness that behind the physical in the world there is a\nmetaphysical, something permanent as the foundation of constant change.\nThen it appeals to the will, to the fears and hopes of mortal beings\nliving in constant struggle; for whom, accordingly, religion creates\ngods and demons whom they can cry to, appease and win over. Finally, it\nappeals to that moral consciousness which is undeniably present in man,\nlends to it that corroboration and support without which it would not\neasily maintain itself in the struggle against so many temptations. It\nis just from this side that religion affords an inexhaustible source of\nconsolation and comfort in the innumerable trials of life, a comfort\nwhich does not leave men in death, but rather then only unfolds its full\nefficacy. So religion may be compared to one who takes a blind man by\nthe hand and leads him, because he is unable to see for himself, whose\nconcern it is to reach his destination, not to look at everything by the\nway.\n\n_Philalethes_. That is certainly the strong point of religion. If it is\na fraud, it is a pious fraud; that is undeniable. But this makes priests\nsomething between deceivers and teachers of morality; they daren't teach\nthe real truth, as you have quite rightly explained, even if they knew\nit, which is not the case. A true philosophy, then, can always exist,\nbut not a true religion; true, I mean, in the proper understanding of\nthe word, not merely in that flowery or allegorical sense which you have\ndescribed; a sense in which all religions would be true, only in various\ndegrees. It is quite in keeping with the inextricable mixture of weal\nand woe, honesty and deceit, good and evil, nobility and baseness, which\nis the average characteristic of the world everywhere, that the most\nimportant, the most lofty, the most sacred truths can make their\nappearance only in combination with a lie, can even borrow strength from\na lie as from something that works more powerfully on mankind; and, as\nrevelation, must be ushered in by a lie. This might, indeed, be regarded\nas the _cachet_ of the moral world. However, we won't give up the hope\nthat mankind will eventually reach a point of maturity and education at\nwhich it can on the one side produce, and on the other receive, the true\nphilosophy. _Simplex sigillum veri_: the naked truth must be so simple\nand intelligible that it can be imparted to all in its true form,\nwithout any admixture of myth and fable, without disguising it in the\nform of _religion_.\n\n_Demopheles_. You've no notion how stupid most people are.\n\n_Philalethes_. I am only expressing a hope which I can't give up. If it\nwere fulfilled, truth in its simple and intelligible form would of\ncourse drive religion from the place it has so long occupied as its\nrepresentative, and by that very means kept open for it. The time would\nhave come when religion would have carried out her object and completed\nher course: the race she had brought to years of discretion she could\ndismiss, and herself depart in peace: that would be the _euthanasia_ of\nreligion. But as long as she lives, she has two faces, one of truth, one\nof fraud. According as you look at one or the other, you will bear her\nfavor or ill-will. Religion must be regarded as a necessary evil, its\nnecessity resting on the pitiful imbecility of the great majority of\nmankind, incapable of grasping the truth, and therefore requiring, in\nits pressing need, something to take its place.\n\n_Demopheles_. Really, one would think that you philosophers had truth in\na cupboard, and that all you had to do was to go and get it!\n\n_Philalethes_. Well, if we haven't got it, it is chiefly owing to the\npressure put upon philosophy by religion at all times and in all places.\nPeople have tried to make the expression and communication of truth,\neven the contemplation and discovery of it, impossible, by putting\nchildren, in their earliest years, into the hands of priests to be\nmanipulated; to have the lines, in which their fundamental thoughts are\nhenceforth to run, laid down with such firmness as, in essential\nmatters, to be fixed and determined for this whole life. When I take up\nthe writings even of the best intellects of the sixteenth and\nseventeenth centuries, (more especially if I have been engaged in\nOriental studies), I am sometimes shocked to see how they are paralyzed\nand hemmed in on all sides by Jewish ideas. How can anyone think out the\ntrue philosophy when he is prepared like this?\n\n_Demopheles_. Even if the true philosophy were to be discovered,\nreligion wouldn't disappear from the world, as you seem to think. There\ncan't be one system of metaphysics for everybody; that's rendered\nimpossible by the natural differences of intellectual power between man\nand man, and the differences, too, which education makes. It is a\nnecessity for the great majority of mankind to engage in that severe\nbodily labor which cannot be dispensed with if the ceaseless\nrequirements of the whole race are to be satisfied. Not only does this\nleave the majority no time for education, for learning, for\ncontemplation; but by virtue of the hard and fast antagonism between\nmuscles and mind, the intelligence is blunted by so much exhausting\nbodily labor, and becomes heavy, clumsy, awkward, and consequently\nincapable of grasping any other than quite simple situations. At least\nnine-tenths of the human race falls under this category. But still the\npeople require a system of metaphysics, that is, an account of the world\nand our existence, because such an account belongs to the most natural\nneeds of mankind, they require a popular system; and to be popular it\nmust combine many rare qualities. It must be easily understood, and at\nthe same time possess, on the proper points, a certain amount of\nobscurity, even of impenetrability; then a correct and satisfactory\nsystem of morality must be bound up with its dogmas; above all, it must\nafford inexhaustible consolation in suffering and death; the consequence\nof all this is, that it can only be true in an allegorical and not in a\nreal sense. Further, it must have the support of an authority which is\nimpressive by its great age, by being universally recognized, by its\ndocuments, their tone and utterances; qualities which are so extremely\ndifficult to combine that many a man wouldn't be so ready, if he\nconsidered the matter, to help to undermine a religion, but would\nreflect that what he is attacking is a people's most sacred treasure. If\nyou want to form an opinion on religion, you should always bear in mind\nthe character of the great multitude for which it is destined, and form\na picture to yourself of its complete inferiority, moral and\nintellectual. It is incredible how far this inferiority goes, and how\nperseveringly a spark of truth will glimmer on even under the crudest\ncovering of monstrous fable or grotesque ceremony, clinging\nindestructibly, like the odor of musk, to everything that has once come\ninto contact with it. In illustration of this, consider the profound\nwisdom of the Upanishads, and then look at the mad idolatry in the India\nof to-day, with its pilgrimages, processions and festivities, or at the\ninsane and ridiculous goings-on of the Saniassi. Still one can't deny\nthat in all this insanity and nonsense there lies some obscure purpose\nwhich accords with, or is a reflection of the profound wisdom I\nmentioned. But for the brute multitude, it had to be dressed up in this\nform. In such a contrast as this we have the two poles of humanity, the\nwisdom of the individual and the bestiality of the many, both of which\nfind their point of contact in the moral sphere. That saying from the\nKurral must occur to everybody. _Base people look like men, but I have\nnever seen their exact counterpart_. The man of education may, all the\nsame, interpret religion to himself _cum grano salis_; the man of\nlearning, the contemplative spirit may secretly exchange it for a\nphilosophy. But here again one philosophy wouldn't suit everybody; by\nthe laws of affinity every system would draw to itself that public to\nwhose education and capacities it was most suited. So there is always an\ninferior metaphysical system of the schools for the educated multitude,\nand a higher one for the _\u00e9lite_. Kant's lofty doctrine, for instance,\nhad to be degraded to the level of the schools and ruined by such men as\nFries, Krug and Salat. In short, here, if anywhere, Goethe's maxim is\ntrue, _One does not suit all_. Pure faith in revelation and pure\nmetaphysics are for the two extremes, and for the intermediate steps\nmutual modifications of both in innumerable combinations and gradations.\nAnd this is rendered necessary by the immeasurable differences which\nnature and education have placed between man and man.\n\n_Philalethes_. The view you take reminds me seriously of the mysteries\nof the ancients, which you mentioned just now. Their fundamental purpose\nseems to have been to remedy the evil arising from the differences of\nintellectual capacity and education. The plan was, out of the great\nmultitude utterly impervious to unveiled truth, to select certain\npersons who might have it revealed to them up to a given point; out of\nthese, again, to choose others to whom more would be revealed, as being\nable to grasp more; and so on up to the Epopts. These grades correspond\nto the little, greater and greatest mysteries. The arrangement was\nfounded on a correct estimate of the intellectual inequality of mankind.\n\n_Demopheles_. To some extent the education in our lower, middle and high\nschools corresponds to the varying grades of initiation into the\nmysteries.\n\n_Philalethes_. In a very approximate way; and then only in so far as\nsubjects of higher knowledge are written about exclusively in Latin. But\nsince that has ceased to be the case, all the mysteries are profaned.\n\n_Demopheles_. However that may be, I wanted to remind you that you\nshould look at religion more from the practical than from the\ntheoretical side. _Personified_ metaphysics may be the enemy of\nreligion, but all the same _personified_ morality will be its friend.\nPerhaps the metaphysical element in all religions is false; but the\nmoral element in all is true. This might perhaps be presumed from the\nfact that they all disagree in their metaphysics, but are in accord as\nregards morality.\n\n_Philalethes_. Which is an illustration of the rule of logic that false\npremises may give a true conclusion.\n\n_Demopheles_. Let me hold you to your conclusion: let me remind you that\nreligion has two sides. If it can't stand when looked at from its\ntheoretical, that is, its intellectual side; on the other hand, from the\nmoral side, it proves itself the only means of guiding, controlling and\nmollifying those races of animals endowed with reason, whose kinship\nwith the ape does not exclude a kinship with the tiger. But at the same\ntime religion is, as a rule, a sufficient satisfaction for their dull\nmetaphysical necessities. You don't seem to me to possess a proper idea\nof the difference, wide as the heavens asunder, the deep gulf between\nyour man of learning and enlightenment, accustomed to the process of\nthinking, and the heavy, clumsy, dull and sluggish consciousness of\nhumanity's beasts of burden, whose thoughts have once and for all taken\nthe direction of anxiety about their livelihood, and cannot be put in\nmotion in any other; whose muscular strength is so exclusively brought\ninto play that the nervous power, which makes intelligence, sinks to a\nvery low ebb. People like that must have something tangible which they\ncan lay hold of on the slippery and thorny pathway of their life, some\nsort of beautiful fable, by means of which things can be imparted to\nthem which their crude intelligence can entertain only in picture and\nparable. Profound explanations and fine distinctions are thrown away\nupon them. If you conceive religion in this light, and recollect that\nits aims are above all practical, and only in a subordinate degree\ntheoretical, it will appear to you as something worthy of the highest\nrespect.\n\n_Philalethes_. A respect which will finally rest upon the principle that\nthe end sanctifies the means. I don't feel in favor of a compromise on a\nbasis like that. Religion may be an excellent means of training the\nperverse, obtuse and ill-disposed members of the biped race: in the eyes\nof the friend of truth every fraud, even though it be a pious one, is to\nbe condemned. A system of deception, a pack of lies, would be a strange\nmeans of inculcating virtue. The flag to which I have taken the oath is\ntruth; I shall remain faithful to it everywhere, and whether I succeed\nor not, I shall fight for light and truth! If I see religion on the\nwrong side--\n\n_Demopheles_. But you won't. Religion isn't a deception: it is true and\nthe most important of all truths. Because its doctrines are, as I have\nsaid, of such a lofty kind that the multitude can't grasp them without\nan intermediary, because, I say, its light would blind the ordinary eye,\nit comes forward wrapt in the veil of allegory and teaches, not indeed\nwhat is exactly true in itself, but what is true in respect of the lofty\nmeaning contained in it; and, understood in this way, religion is the\ntruth.\n\n_Philalethes_. It would be all right if religion were only at liberty to\nbe true in a merely allegorical sense. But its contention is that it is\ndownright true in the proper sense of the word. Herein lies the\ndeception, and it is here that the friend of truth must take up a\nhostile position.\n\n_Demopheles_. The deception is a _sine qua non_. If religion were to\nadmit that it was only the allegorical meaning in its doctrine which was\ntrue, it would rob itself of all efficacy. Such rigorous treatment as\nthis would destroy its invaluable influence on the hearts and morals of\nmankind. Instead of insisting on that with pedantic obstinacy, look at\nits great achievements in the practical sphere, its furtherance of good\nand kindly feelings, its guidance in conduct, the support and\nconsolation it gives to suffering humanity in life and death. How much\nyou ought to guard against letting theoretical cavils discredit in the\neyes of the multitude, and finally wrest from it, something which is an\ninexhaustible source of consolation and tranquillity, something which,\nin its hard lot, it needs so much, even more than we do. On that score\nalone, religion should be free from attack.\n\n_Philalethes_. With that kind of argument you could have driven Luther\nfrom the field, when he attacked the sale of indulgences. How many a one\ngot consolation from the letters of indulgence, a consolation which\nnothing else could give, a complete tranquillity; so that he joyfully\ndeparted with the fullest confidence in the packet of them which he held\nin his hand at the hour of death, convinced that they were so many cards\nof admission to all the nine heavens. What is the use of grounds of\nconsolation and tranquillity which are constantly overshadowed by the\nDamocles-sword of illusion? The truth, my dear sir, is the only safe\nthing; the truth alone remains steadfast and trusty; it is the only\nsolid consolation; it is the indestructible diamond.\n\n_Demopheles_. Yes, if you had truth in your pocket, ready to favor us\nwith it on demand. All you've got are metaphysical systems, in which\nnothing is certain but the headaches they cost. Before you take anything\naway, you must have something better to put in its place.\n\n_Philalethes_. That's what you keep on saying. To free a man from error\nis to give, not to take away. Knowledge that a thing is false is a\ntruth. Error always does harm; sooner or later it will bring mischief to\nthe man who harbors it. Then give up deceiving people; confess ignorance\nof what you don't know, and leave everyone to form his own articles of\nfaith for himself. Perhaps they won't turn out so bad, especially as\nthey'll rub one another's corners down, and mutually rectify mistakes.\nThe existence of many views will at any rate lay a foundation of\ntolerance. Those who possess knowledge and capacity may betake\nthemselves to the study of philosophy, or even in their own persons\ncarry the history of philosophy a step further.\n\n_Demopheles_. That'll be a pretty business! A whole nation of raw\nmetaphysicians, wrangling and eventually coming to blows with one\nanother!\n\n_Philalethes_. Well, well, a few blows here and there are the sauce of\nlife; or at any rate a very inconsiderable evil compared with such\nthings as priestly dominion, plundering of the laity, persecution of\nheretics, courts of inquisition, crusades, religious wars, massacres of\nSt. Bartholomew. These have been the result of popular metaphysics\nimposed from without; so I stick to the old saying that you can't get\ngrapes from thistles, nor expect good to come from a pack of lies.\n\n_Demopheles_. How often must I repeat that religion is anything but a\npack of lies? It is truth itself, only in a mythical, allegorical\nvesture. But when you spoke of your plan of everyone being his own\nfounder of religion, I wanted to say that a particularism like this is\ntotally opposed to human nature, and would consequently destroy all\nsocial order. Man is a metaphysical animal,--that is to say, he has\nparamount metaphysical necessities; accordingly, he conceives life above\nall in its metaphysical signification, and wishes to bring everything\ninto line with that. Consequently, however strange it may sound in view\nof the uncertainty of all dogmas, agreement in the fundamentals of\nmetaphysics is the chief thing, because a genuine and lasting bond of\nunion is only possible among those who are of one opinion on these\npoints. As a result of this, the main point of likeness and of contrast\nbetween nations is rather religion than government, or even language;\nand so the fabric of society, the State, will stand firm only when\nfounded on a system of metaphysics which is acknowledged by all. This,\nof course, can only be a popular system,--that is, a religion: it\nbecomes part and parcel of the constitution of the State, of all the\npublic manifestations of the national life, and also of all solemn acts\nof individuals. This was the case in ancient India, among the Persians,\nEgyptians, Jews, Greeks and Romans; it is still the case in the Brahman,\nBuddhist and Mohammedan nations. In China there are three faiths, it is\ntrue, of which the most prevalent--Buddhism--is precisely the one which\nis not protected by the State; still, there is a saying in China,\nuniversally acknowledged, and of daily application, that \"the three\nfaiths are only one,\"--that is to say, they agree in essentials. The\nEmperor confesses all three together at the same time. And Europe is the\nunion of Christian States: Christianity is the basis of every one of the\nmembers, and the common bond of all. Hence Turkey, though geographically\nin Europe, is not properly to be reckoned as belonging to it. In the\nsame way, the European princes hold their place \"by the grace of God:\"\nand the Pope is the vicegerent of God. Accordingly, as his throne was\nthe highest, he used to wish all thrones to be regarded as held in fee\nfrom him. In the same way, too, Archbishops and Bishops, as such,\npossessed temporal power; and in England they still have seats and votes\nin the Upper House. Protestant princes, as such, are heads of their\nchurches: in England, a few years ago, this was a girl eighteen years\nold. By the revolt from the Pope, the Reformation shattered the European\nfabric, and in a special degree dissolved the true unity of Germany by\ndestroying its common religious faith. This union, which had practically\ncome to an end, had, accordingly, to be restored later on by artificial\nand purely political means. You see, then, how closely connected a\ncommon faith is with the social order and the constitution of every\nState. Faith is everywhere the support of the laws and the constitution,\nthe foundation, therefore, of the social fabric, which could hardly hold\ntogether at all if religion did not lend weight to the authority of\ngovernment and the dignity of the ruler.\n\n_Philalethes_. Oh, yes, princes use God as a kind of bogey to frighten\ngrown-up children to bed with, if nothing else avails: that's why they\nattach so much importance to the Deity. Very well. Let me, in passing,\nrecommend our rulers to give their serious attention, regularly twice\nevery year, to the fifteenth chapter of the First Book of Samuel, that\nthey may be constantly reminded of what it means to prop the throne on\nthe altar. Besides, since the stake, that _ultima ration theologorum_,\nhas gone out of fashion, this method of government has lost its\nefficacy. For, as you know, religions are like glow-worms; they shine\nonly when it is dark. A certain amount of general ignorance is the\ncondition of all religions, the element in which alone they can exist.\nAnd as soon as astronomy, natural science, geology, history, the\nknowledge of countries and peoples have spread their light broadcast,\nand philosophy finally is permitted to say a word, every faith founded\non miracles and revelation must disappear; and philosophy takes its\nplace. In Europe the day of knowledge and science dawned towards the end\nof the fifteenth century with the appearance of the Renaissance\nPlatonists: its sun rose higher in the sixteenth and seventeenth\ncenturies so rich in results, and scattered the mists of the Middle Age.\nChurch and Faith were compelled to disappear in the same proportion; and\nso in the eighteenth century English and French philosophers were able\nto take up an attitude of direct hostility; until, finally, under\nFrederick the Great, Kant appeared, and took away from religious belief\nthe support it had previously enjoyed from philosophy: he emancipated\nthe handmaid of theology, and in attacking the question with German\nthoroughness and patience, gave it an earnest instead of a frivolous\ntone. The consequence of this is that we see Christianity undermined in\nthe nineteenth century, a serious faith in it almost completely gone; we\nsee it fighting even for bare existence, whilst anxious princes try to\nset it up a little by artificial means, as a doctor uses a drug on a\ndying patient. In this connection there is a passage in Condorcet's\n\"_Des Progr\u00e8s de l'esprit humain_\" which looks as if written as a\nwarning to our age: \"the religious zeal shown by philosophers and great\nmen was only a political devotion; and every religion which allows\nitself to be defended as a belief that may usefully be left to the\npeople, can only hope for an agony more or less prolonged.\" In the whole\ncourse of the events which I have indicated, you may always observe that\nfaith and knowledge are related as the two scales of a balance; when the\none goes up, the other goes down. So sensitive is the balance that it\nindicates momentary influences. When, for instance, at the beginning of\nthis century, those inroads of French robbers under the leadership of\nBonaparte, and the enormous efforts necessary for driving them out and\npunishing them, had brought about a temporary neglect of science and\nconsequently a certain decline in the general increase of knowledge, the\nChurch immediately began to raise her head again and Faith began to show\nfresh signs of life; which, to be sure, in keeping with the times, was\npartly poetical in its nature. On the other hand, in the more than\nthirty years of peace which followed, leisure and prosperity furthered\nthe building up of science and the spread of knowledge in an\nextraordinary degree: the consequence of which is what I have indicated,\nthe dissolution and threatened fall of religion. Perhaps the time is\napproaching which has so often been prophesied, when religion will take\nher departure from European humanity, like a nurse which the child has\noutgrown: the child will now be given over to the instructions of a\ntutor. For there is no doubt that religious doctrines which are founded\nmerely on authority, miracles and revelations, are only suited to the\nchildhood of humanity. Everyone will admit that a race, the past\nduration of which on the earth all accounts, physical and historical,\nagree in placing at not more than some hundred times the life of a man\nof sixty, is as yet only in its first childhood.\n\n_Demopheles_. Instead of taking an undisguised pleasure in prophesying\nthe downfall of Christianity, how I wish you would consider what a\nmeasureless debt of gratitude European humanity owes to it, how greatly\nit has benefited by the religion which, after a long interval, followed\nit from its old home in the East. Europe received from Christianity\nideas which were quite new to it, the Knowledge, I mean, of the\nfundamental truth that life cannot be an end-in-itself, that the true\nend of our existence lies beyond it. The Greeks and Romans had placed\nthis end altogether in our present life, so that in this sense they may\ncertainly be called blind heathens. And, in keeping with this view of\nlife, all their virtues can be reduced to what is serviceable to the\ncommunity, to what is useful in fact. Aristotle says quite naively,\n_Those virtues must necessarily be the greatest which are the most\nuseful to others_. So the ancients thought patriotism the highest\nvirtue, although it is really a very doubtful one, since narrowness,\nprejudice, vanity and an enlightened self-interest are main elements in\nit. Just before the passage I quoted, Aristotle enumerates all the\nvirtues, in order to discuss them singly. They are _Justice, Courage,\nTemperance, Magnificence, Magnanimity, Liberality, Gentleness, Good\nSense_ and _Wisdom_. How different from the Christian virtues! Plato\nhimself, incomparably the most transcendental philosopher of\npre-Christian antiquity, knows no higher virtue than _Justice_; and he\nalone recommends it unconditionally and for its own sake, whereas the\nrest make a happy life, _vita beata_, the aim of all virtue, and moral\nconduct the way to attain it. Christianity freed European humanity from\nthis shallow, crude identification of itself with the hollow, uncertain\nexistence of every day,\n\n                          coelumque tueri\n  Jussit, et erectos ad sidera tollere vultus.\n\nChristianity, accordingly, does not preach mere Justice, but _the Love\nof Mankind, Compassion, Good Works, Forgiveness, Love of your Enemies,\nPatience, Humility, Resignation, Faith_ and _Hope_. It even went a step\nfurther, and taught that the world is of evil, and that we need\ndeliverance. It preached despisal of the world, self-denial, chastity,\ngiving up of one's will, that is, turning away from life and its\nillusory pleasures. It taught the healing power of pain: an instrument\nof torture is the symbol of Christianity. I am quite ready to admit that\nthis earnest, this only correct view of life was thousands of years\npreviously spread all over Asia in other forms, as it is still,\nindependently of Christianity; but for European humanity it was a new\nand great revelation. For it is well known that the population of Europe\nconsists of Asiatic races driven out as wanderers from their own homes,\nand gradually settling down in Europe; on their wanderings these races\nlost the original religion of their homes, and with it the right view of\nlife: so, under a new sky, they formed religions for themselves, which\nwere rather crude; the worship of Odin, for instance, the Druidic or the\nGreek religion, the metaphysical content of which was little and\nshallow. In the meantime the Greeks developed a special, one might\nalmost say, an instinctive sense of beauty, belonging to them alone of\nall the nations who have ever existed on the earth, peculiar, fine and\nexact: so that their mythology took, in the mouth of their poets, and in\nthe hands of their artists, an exceedingly beautiful and pleasing shape.\nOn the other hand, the true and deep significance of life was lost to\nthe Greeks and Romans. They lived on like grown-up children, till\nChristianity came and recalled them to the serious side of existence.\n\n_Philalethes_. And to see the effects one need only compare antiquity\nwith the Middle Age; the time of Pericles, say, with the fourteenth\ncentury. You could scarcely believe you were dealing with the same kind\nof beings. There, the finest development of humanity, excellent\ninstitutions, wise laws, shrewdly apportioned offices, rationally\nordered freedom, all the arts, including poetry and philosophy, at their\nbest; the production of works which, after thousands of years, are\nunparalleled, the creations, as it were, of a higher order of beings,\nwhich we can never imitate; life embellished by the noblest fellowship,\nas portrayed in Xenophen's _Banquet_. Look on the other picture, if you\ncan; a time at which the Church had enslaved the minds, and violence the\nbodies of men, that knights and priests might lay the whole weight of\nlife upon the common beast of burden, the third estate. There, you have\nmight as right, Feudalism and Fanaticism in close alliance, and in their\ntrain abominable ignorance and darkness of mind, a corresponding\nintolerance, discord of creeds, religious wars, crusades, inquisitions\nand persecutions; as the form of fellowship, chivalry, compounded of\nsavagery and folly, with its pedantic system of ridiculous false\npretences carried to an extreme, its degrading superstition and apish\nveneration for women. Gallantry is the residue of this veneration,\ndeservedly requited as it is by feminine arrogance; it affords continual\nfood for laughter to all Asiatics, and the Greeks would have joined in\nit. In the golden Middle Age the practice developed into a regular and\nmethodical service of women; it imposed deeds of heroism, _cours\nd'amour_, bombastic Troubadour songs, etc.; although it is to be\nobserved that these last buffooneries, which had an intellectual side,\nwere chiefly at home in France; whereas amongst the material sluggish\nGermans, the knights distinguished themselves rather by drinking and\nstealing; they were good at boozing and filling their castles with\nplunder; though in the courts, to be sure, there was no lack of insipid\nlove songs. What caused this utter transformation? Migration and\nChristianity.\n\n_Demopheles_. I am glad you reminded me of it. Migration was the source\nof the evil; Christianity the dam on which it broke. It was chiefly by\nChristianity that the raw, wild hordes which came flooding in were\ncontrolled and tamed. The savage man must first of all learn to kneel,\nto venerate, to obey; after that he can be civilized. This was done in\nIreland by St. Patrick, in Germany by Winifred the Saxon, who was a\ngenuine Boniface. It was migration of peoples, the last advance of\nAsiatic races towards Europe, followed only by the fruitless attempts of\nthose under Attila, Zenghis Khan, and Timur, and as a comic afterpiece,\nby the gipsies,--it was this movement which swept away the humanity of\nthe ancients. Christianity was precisely the principle which set itself\nto work against this savagery; just as later, through the whole of the\nMiddle Age, the Church and its hierarchy were most necessary to set\nlimits to the savage barbarism of those masters of violence, the princes\nand knights: it was what broke up the icefloes in that mighty deluge.\nStill, the chief aim of Christianity is not so much to make this life\npleasant as to render us worthy of a better. It looks away over this\nspan of time, over this fleeting dream, and seeks to lead us to eternal\nwelfare. Its tendency is ethical in the highest sense of the word, a\nsense unknown in Europe till its advent; as I have shown you, by putting\nthe morality and religion of the ancients side by side with those of\nChristendom.\n\n_Philalethes_. You are quite right as regards theory: but look at the\npractice! In comparison with the ages of Christianity the ancient world\nwas unquestionably less cruel than the Middle Age, with its deaths by\nexquisite torture, its innumerable burnings at the stake. The ancients,\nfurther, were very enduring, laid great stress on justice, frequently\nsacrificed themselves for their country, showed such traces of every\nkind of magnanimity, and such genuine manliness, that to this day an\nacquaintance with their thoughts and actions is called the study of\nHumanity. The fruits of Christianity were religious wars, butcheries,\ncrusades, inquisitions, extermination of the natives in America, and the\nintroduction of African slaves in their place; and among the ancients\nthere is nothing analogous to this, nothing that can be compared with\nit; for the slaves of the ancients, the _familia_, the _vernae_, were a\ncontented race, and faithfully devoted to their masters' service, and as\ndifferent from the miserable negroes of the sugar plantations, which are\na disgrace to humanity, as their two colors are distinct. Those special\nmoral delinquencies for which we reproach the ancients, and which are\nperhaps less uncommon now-a-days than appears on the surface to be the\ncase, are trifles compared with the Christian enormities I have\nmentioned. Can you then, all considered, maintain that mankind has been\nreally made morally better by Christianity?\n\n_Demopheles_. If the results haven't everywhere been in keeping with the\npurity and truth of the doctrine, it may be because the doctrine has\nbeen too noble, too elevated for mankind, that its aim has been placed\ntoo high. It was so much easier to come up to the heathen system, or to\nthe Mohammedan. It is precisely what is noble and dignified that is most\nliable everywhere to misuse and fraud: _abusus optimi pessimus_. Those\nhigh doctrines have accordingly now and then served as a pretext for the\nmost abominable proceedings, and for acts of unmitigated wickedness. The\ndownfall of the institutions of the old world, as well as of its arts\nand sciences, is, as I have said, to be attributed to the inroad of\nforeign barbarians. The inevitable result of this inroad was that\nignorance and savagery got the upper hand; consequently violence and\nknavery established their dominion, and knights and priests became a\nburden to mankind. It is partly, however, to be explained by the fact\nthat the new religion made eternal and not temporal welfare the object\nof desire, taught that simplicity of heart was to be preferred to\nknowledge, and looked askance at all worldly pleasure. Now the arts and\nsciences subserve worldly pleasure; but in so far as they could be made\nserviceable to religion they were promoted, and attained a certain\ndegree of perfection.\n\n_Philalethes_. In a very narrow sphere. The sciences were suspicious\ncompanions, and as such, were placed under restrictions: on the other\nhand, darling ignorance, that element so necessary to a system of faith,\nwas carefully nourished.\n\n_Demopheles_. And yet mankind's possessions in the way of knowledge up\nto that period, which were preserved in the writings of the ancients,\nwere saved from destruction by the clergy, especially by those in the\nmonasteries. How would it have fared if Christianity hadn't come in just\nbefore the migration of peoples.\n\n_Philalethes_. It would really be a most useful inquiry to try and make,\nwith the coldest impartiality, an unprejudiced, careful and accurate\ncomparison of the advantages and disadvantages which may be put down to\nreligion. For that, of course, a much larger knowledge of historical and\npsychological data than either of us command would be necessary.\nAcademies might make it a subject for a prize essay.\n\n_Demopheles_. They'll take good care not to do so.\n\n_Philalethes_. I'm surprised to hear you say that: it's a bad look out\nfor religion. However, there are academies which, in proposing a subject\nfor competition, make it a secret condition that the prize is to go to\nthe man who best interprets their own view. If we could only begin by\ngetting a statistician to tell us how many crimes are prevented every\nyear by religious, and how many by other motives, there would be very\nfew of the former. If a man feels tempted to commit a crime, you may\nrely upon it that the first consideration which enters his head is the\npenalty appointed for it, and the chances that it will fall upon him:\nthen comes, as a second consideration, the risk to his reputation. If I\nam not mistaken, he will ruminate by the hour on these two impediments,\nbefore he ever takes a thought of religious considerations. If he gets\nsafely over those two first bulwarks against crime, I think religion\nalone will very rarely hold him back from it.\n\n_Demopheles_. I think that it will very often do so, especially when its\ninfluence works through the medium of custom. An atrocious act is at\nonce felt to be repulsive. What is this but the effect of early\nimpressions? Think, for instance, how often a man, especially if of\nnoble birth, will make tremendous sacrifices to perform what he has\npromised, motived entirely by the fact that his father has often\nearnestly impressed upon him in his childhood that \"a man of honor\" or\n\"a gentleman\" or a \"a cavalier\" always keeps his word inviolate.\n\n_Philalethes_. That's no use unless there is a certain inborn\nhonorableness. You mustn't ascribe to religion what results from innate\ngoodness of character, by which compassion for the man who would suffer\nby his crime keeps a man from committing it. This is the genuine moral\nmotive, and as such it is independent of all religions.\n\n_Demopheles_. But this is a motive which rarely affects the multitude\nunless it assumes a religious aspect. The religious aspect at any rate\nstrengthens its power for good. Yet without any such natural foundation,\nreligious motives alone are powerful to prevent crime. We need not be\nsurprised at this in the case of the multitude, when we see that even\npeople of education pass now and then under the influence, not indeed of\nreligious motives, which are founded on something which is at least\nallegorically true, but of the most absurd superstition, and allow\nthemselves to be guided by it all their life long; as, for instance,\nundertaking nothing on a Friday, refusing to sit down thirteen at a\ntable, obeying chance omens, and the like. How much more likely is the\nmultitude to be guided by such things. You can't form any adequate idea\nof the narrow limits of the mind in its raw state; it is a place of\nabsolute darkness, especially when, as often happens, a bad, unjust and\nmalicious heart is at the bottom of it. People in this condition--and\nthey form the great bulk of humanity--must be led and controlled as well\nas may be, even if it be by really superstitious motives; until such\ntime as they become susceptible to truer and better ones. As an instance\nof the direct working of religion, may be cited the fact, common enough,\nin Italy especially, of a thief restoring stolen goods, through the\ninfluence of his confessor, who says he won't absolve him if he doesn't.\nThink again of the case of an oath, where religion shows a most decided\ninfluence; whether it be that a man places himself expressly in the\nposition of a purely _moral being_, and as such looks upon himself as\nsolemnly appealed to, as seems to be the case in France, where the\nformula is simply _je le jure_, and also among the Quakers, whose solemn\n_yea_ or _nay_ is regarded as a substitute for the oath; or whether it\nbe that a man really believes he is pronouncing something which may\naffect his eternal happiness,--a belief which is presumably only the\ninvestiture of the former feeling. At any rate, religious considerations\nare a means of awakening and calling out a man's moral nature. How often\nit happens that a man agrees to take a false oath, and then, when it\ncomes to the point, suddenly refuses, and truth and right win the day.\n\n_Philalethes_. Oftener still false oaths are really taken, and truth and\nright trampled under foot, though all witnesses of the oath know it\nwell! Still you are quite right to quote the oath as an undeniable\nexample of the practical efficacy of religion. But, in spite of all\nyou've said, I doubt whether the efficacy of religion goes much beyond\nthis. Just think; if a public proclamation were suddenly made announcing\nthe repeal of all the criminal laws; I fancy neither you nor I would\nhave the courage to go home from here under the protection of religious\nmotives. If, in the same way, all religions were declared untrue, we\ncould, under the protection of the laws alone, go on living as before,\nwithout any special addition to our apprehensions or our measures of\nprecaution. I will go beyond this, and say that religions have very\nfrequently exercised a decidedly demoralizing influence. One may say\ngenerally that duties towards God and duties towards humanity are in\ninverse ratio.\n\nIt is easy to let adulation of the Deity make amends for lack of proper\nbehavior towards man. And so we see that in all times and in all\ncountries the great majority of mankind find it much easier to beg their\nway to heaven by prayers than to deserve to go there by their actions.\nIn every religion it soon comes to be the case that faith, ceremonies,\nrites and the like, are proclaimed to be more agreeable to the Divine\nwill than moral actions; the former, especially if they are bound up\nwith the emoluments of the clergy, gradually come to be looked upon as a\nsubstitute for the latter. Sacrifices in temples, the saying of masses,\nthe founding of chapels, the planting of crosses by the roadside, soon\ncome to be the most meritorious works, so that even great crimes are\nexpiated by them, as also by penance, subjection to priestly authority,\nconfessions, pilgrimages, donations to the temples and the clergy, the\nbuilding of monasteries and the like. The consequence of all this is\nthat the priests finally appear as middlemen in the corruption of the\ngods. And if matters don't go quite so far as that, where is the\nreligion whose adherents don't consider prayers, praise and manifold\nacts of devotion, a substitute, at least in part, for moral conduct?\nLook at England, where by an audacious piece of priestcraft, the\nChristian Sunday, introduced by Constantine the Great as a subject for\nthe Jewish Sabbath, is in a mendacious way identified with it, and takes\nits name,--and this in order that the commands of Jehovah for the\nSabbath (that is, the day on which the Almighty had to rest from his six\ndays' labor, so that it is essentially the last day of the week), might\nbe applied to the Christian Sunday, the _dies solis_, the first day of\nthe week which the sun opens in glory, the day of devotion and joy. The\nconsequence of this fraud is that \"Sabbath-breaking,\" or \"the\ndesecration of the Sabbath,\" that is, the slightest occupation, whether\nof business or pleasure, all games, music, sewing, worldly books, are on\nSundays looked upon as great sins. Surely the ordinary man must believe\nthat if, as his spiritual guides impress upon him, he is only constant\nin \"a strict observance of the holy Sabbath,\" and is \"a regular\nattendant at Divine Service,\" that is, if he only invariably idles away\nhis time on Sundays, and doesn't fail to sit two hours in church to hear\nthe same litany for the thousandth time and mutter it in tune with the\nothers, he may reckon on indulgence in regard to those little\npeccadilloes which he occasionally allows himself. Those devils in human\nform, the slave owners and slave traders in the Free States of North\nAmerica (they should be called the Slave States) are, as a rule,\northodox, pious Anglicans who would consider it a grave sin to work on\nSundays; and having confidence in this, and their regular attendance at\nchurch, they hope for eternal happiness. The demoralizing tendency of\nreligion is less problematical than its moral influence. How great and\nhow certain that moral influence must be to make amends for the\nenormities which religions, especially the Christian and Mohammedan\nreligions, have produced and spread over the earth! Think of the\nfanaticism, the endless persecutions, the religious wars, that\nsanguinary frenzy of which the ancients had no conception! think of the\ncrusades, a butchery lasting two hundred years and inexcusable, its war\ncry \"_It is the will of God_,\" its object to gain possession of the\ngrave of one who preached love and sufferance! think of the cruel\nexpulsion and extermination of the Moors and Jews from Spain! think of\nthe orgies of blood, the inquisitions, the heretical tribunals, the\nbloody and terrible conquests of the Mohammedans in three continents, or\nthose of Christianity in America, whose inhabitants were for the most\npart, and in Cuba entirely, exterminated. According to Las Cases,\nChristianity murdered twelve millions in forty years, of course all _in\nmajorem Dei gloriam_, and for the propagation of the Gospel, and because\nwhat wasn't Christian wasn't even looked upon as human! I have, it is\ntrue, touched upon these matters before; but when in our day, we hear of\n_Latest News from the Kingdom of God_ [Footnote: A missionary paper, of\nwhich the 40th annual number appeared in 1856], we shall not be weary of\nbringing old news to mind. And above all, don't let us forget India, the\ncradle of the human race, or at least of that part of it to which we\nbelong, where first Mohammedans, and then Christians, were most cruelly\ninfuriated against the adherents of the original faith of mankind. The\ndestruction or disfigurement of the ancient temples and idols, a\nlamentable, mischievous and barbarous act, still bears witness to the\nmonotheistic fury of the Mohammedans, carried on from Marmud, the\nGhaznevid of cursed memory, down to Aureng Zeb, the fratricide, whom the\nPortuguese Christians have zealously imitated by destruction of temples\nand the _auto de f\u00e9_ of the inquisition at Goa. Don't let us forget the\nchosen people of God, who after they had, by Jehovah's express command,\nstolen from their old and trusty friends in Egypt the gold and silver\nvessels which had been lent to them, made a murderous and plundering\ninroad into \"the Promised Land,\" with the murderer Moses at their head,\nto tear it from the rightful owners,--again, by the same Jehovah's\nexpress and repeated commands, showing no mercy, exterminating the\ninhabitants, women, children and all (Joshua, ch. 9 and 10). And all\nthis, simply because they weren't circumcised and didn't know Jehovah,\nwhich was reason enough to justify every enormity against them; just as\nfor the same reason, in earlier times, the infamous knavery of the\npatriarch Jacob and his chosen people against Hamor, King of Shalem, and\nhis people, is reported to his glory because the people were\nunbelievers! (Genesis xxxiii. 18.) Truly, it is the worst side of\nreligions that the believers of one religion have allowed themselves\nevery sin again those of another, and with the utmost ruffianism and\ncruelty persecuted them; the Mohammedans against the Christians and\nHindoos; the Christians against the Hindoos, Mohammedans, American\nnatives, Negroes, Jews, heretics, and others.\n\nPerhaps I go too far in saying _all_ religions. For the sake of truth, I\nmust add that the fanatical enormities perpetrated in the name of\nreligion are only to be put down to the adherents of monotheistic\ncreeds, that is, the Jewish faith and its two branches, Christianity and\nIslamism. We hear of nothing of the kind in the case of Hindoos and\nBuddhists. Although it is a matter of common knowledge that about the\nfifth century of our era Buddhism was driven out by the Brahmans from\nits ancient home in the southernmost part of the Indian peninsula, and\nafterwards spread over the whole of the rest of Asia, as far as I know,\nwe have no definite account of any crimes of violence, or wars, or\ncruelties, perpetrated in the course of it.\n\nThat may, of course, be attributable to the obscurity which veils the\nhistory of those countries; but the exceedingly mild character of their\nreligion, together with their unceasing inculcation of forbearance\ntowards all living things, and the fact that Brahmanism by its caste\nsystem properly admits no proselytes, allows one to hope that their\nadherents may be acquitted of shedding blood on a large scale, and of\ncruelty in any form. Spence Hardy, in his excellent book on _Eastern\nMonachism_, praises the extraordinary tolerance of the Buddhists, and\nadds his assurance that the annals of Buddhism will furnish fewer\ninstances of religious persecution than those of any other religion.\n\nAs a matter of fact, it is only to monotheism that intolerance is\nessential; an only god is by his nature a jealous god, who can allow no\nother god to exist. Polytheistic gods, on the other hand, are naturally\ntolerant; they live and let live; their own colleagues are the chief\nobjects of their sufferance, as being gods of the same religion. This\ntoleration is afterwards extended to foreign gods, who are, accordingly,\nhospitably received, and later on admitted, in some cases, to an\nequality of rights; the chief example of which is shown by the fact,\nthat the Romans willingly admitted and venerated Phrygian, Egyptian and\nother gods. Hence it is that monotheistic religions alone furnish the\nspectacle of religious wars, religious persecutions, heretical\ntribunals, that breaking of idols and destruction of images of the gods,\nthat razing of Indian temples, and Egyptian colossi, which had looked on\nthe sun three thousand years, just because a jealous god had said, _Thou\nshalt make no graven image_.\n\nBut to return to the chief point. You are certainly right in insisting\non the strong metaphysical needs of mankind; but religion appears to me\nto be not so much a satisfaction as an abuse of those needs. At any rate\nwe have seen that in regard to the furtherance of morality, its utility\nis, for the most part, problematical, its disadvantages, and especially\nthe atrocities which have followed in its train, are patent to the light\nof day. Of course it is quite a different matter if we consider the\nutility of religion as a prop of thrones; for where these are held \"by\nthe grace of God,\" throne and altar are intimately associated; and every\nwise prince who loves his throne and his family will appear at the head\nof his people as an exemplar of true religion. Even Machiavelli, in the\neighteenth chapter of his book, most earnestly recommended religion to\nprinces. Beyond this, one may say that revealed religions stand to\nphilosophy exactly in the relation of \"sovereigns by the grace of God,\"\nto \"the sovereignty of the people\"; so that the two former terms of the\nparallel are in natural alliance.\n\n_Demopheles_. Oh, don't take that tone! You're going hand in hand with\nochlocracy and anarchy, the arch enemy of all legislative order, all\ncivilization and all humanity.\n\n_Philalethes_. You are right. It was only a sophism of mine, what the\nfencing master calls a feint. I retract it. But see how disputing\nsometimes makes an honest man unjust and malicious. Let us stop.\n\n_Demopheles_. I can't help regretting that, after all the trouble I've\ntaken, I haven't altered your disposition in regard to religion. On the\nother hand, I can assure you that everything you have said hasn't shaken\nmy conviction of its high value and necessity.\n\n_Philalethes_. I fully believe you; for, as we may read in Hudibras--\n\n  A man convinced against his will\n  Is of the same opinion still.\n\nMy consolation is that, alike in controversies and in taking mineral\nwaters, the after effects are the true ones.\n\n_Demopheles_. Well, I hope it'll be beneficial in your case.\n\n_Philalethes_. It might be so, if I could digest a certain Spanish\nproverb.\n\n_Demopheles_. Which is?\n\n_Philalethes. Behind the cross stands the devil_.\n\n_Demopheles_. Come, don't let us part with sarcasms. Let us rather admit\nthat religion, like Janus, or better still, like the Brahman god of\ndeath, Yama, has two faces, and like him, one friendly, the other\nsullen. Each of us has kept his eye fixed on one alone.\n\n_Philalethes_. You are right, old fellow.\n\n\n\n\nA FEW WORDS ON PANTHEISM.\n\n\nThe controversy between Theism and Pantheism might be presented in an\nallegorical or dramatic form by supposing a dialogue between two persons\nin the pit of a theatre at Milan during the performance of a piece. One\nof them, convinced that he is in Girolamo's renowned marionette-theatre,\nadmires the art by which the director gets up the dolls and guides their\nmovements. \"Oh, you are quite mistaken,\" says the other, \"we're in the\nTeatro della Scala; it is the manager and his troupe who are on the\nstage; they are the persons you see before you; the poet too is taking a\npart.\"\n\nThe chief objection I have to Pantheism is that it says nothing. To call\nthe world \"God\" is not to explain it; it is only to enrich our language\nwith a superfluous synonym for the word \"world.\" It comes to the same\nthing whether you say \"the world is God,\" or \"God is the world.\" But if\nyou start from \"God\" as something that is given in experience, and has\nto be explained, and they say, \"God is the world,\" you are affording\nwhat is to some extent an explanation, in so far as you are reducing\nwhat is unknown to what is partly known (_ignotum per notius_); but it\nis only a verbal explanation. If, however, you start from what is really\ngiven, that is to say, from the world, and say, \"the world is God,\" it\nis clear that you say nothing, or at least you are explaining what is\nunknown by what is more unknown.\n\nHence, Pantheism presupposes Theism; only in so far as you start from a\ngod, that is, in so far as you possess him as something with which you\nare already familiar, can you end by identifying him with the world; and\nyour purpose in doing so is to put him out of the way in a decent\nfashion. In other words, you do not start clear from the world as\nsomething that requires explanation; you start from God as something\nthat is given, and not knowing what to do with him, you make the world\ntake over his role. This is the origin of Pantheism. Taking an\nunprejudiced view of the world as it is, no one would dream of regarding\nit as a god. It must be a very ill-advised god who knows no better way\nof diverting himself than by turning into such a world as ours, such a\nmean, shabby world, there to take the form of innumerable millions who\nlive indeed, but are fretted and tormented, and who manage to exist a\nwhile together, only by preying on one another; to bear misery, need and\ndeath, without measure and without object, in the form, for instance, of\nmillions of negro slaves, or of the three million weavers in Europe who,\nin hunger and care, lead a miserable existence in damp rooms or the\ncheerless halls of a factory. What a pastime this for a god, who must,\nas such, be used to another mode of existence!\n\nWe find accordingly that what is described as the great advance from\nTheism to Pantheism, if looked at seriously, and not simply as a masked\nnegation of the sort indicated above, is a transition from what is\nunproved and hardly conceivable to what is absolutely absurd. For\nhowever obscure, however loose or confused may be the idea which we\nconnect with the word \"God,\" there are two predicates which are\ninseparable from it, the highest power and the highest wisdom. It is\nabsolutely absurd to think that a being endowed with these qualities\nshould have put himself into the position described above. Theism, on\nthe other hand, is something which is merely unproved; and if it is\ndifficult to look upon the infinite world as the work of a personal, and\ntherefore individual, Being, the like of which we know only from our\nexperience of the animal world, it is nevertheless not an absolutely\nabsurd idea. That a Being, at once almighty and all-good, should create\na world of torment is always conceivable; even though we do not know why\nhe does so; and accordingly we find that when people ascribe the height\nof goodness to this Being, they set up the inscrutable nature of his\nwisdom as the refuge by which the doctrine escapes the charge of\nabsurdity. Pantheism, however, assumes that the creative God is himself\nthe world of infinite torment, and, in this little world alone, dies\nevery second, and that entirely of his own will; which is absurd. It\nwould be much more correct to identify the world with the devil, as the\nvenerable author of the _Deutsche Theologie_ has, in fact, done in a\npassage of his immortal work, where he says, \"_Wherefore the evil spirit\nand nature are one, and where nature is not overcome, neither is the\nevil adversary overcome_.\"\n\nIt is manifest that the Pantheists give the Sansara the name of God. The\nsame name is given by the Mystics to the Nirvana. The latter, however,\nstate more about the Nirvana than they know, which is not done by the\nBuddhists, whose Nirvana is accordingly a relative nothing. It is only\nJews, Christians, and Mohammedans who give its proper and correct\nmeaning to the word \"God.\"\n\nThe expression, often heard now-a-days, \"the world is an end-in-itself,\"\nleaves it uncertain whether Pantheism or a simple Fatalism is to be\ntaken as the explanation of it. But, whichever it be, the expression\nlooks upon the world from a physical point of view only, and leaves out\nof sight its moral significance, because you cannot assume a moral\nsignificance without presenting the world as means to a higher end. The\nnotion that the world has a physical but not a moral meaning, is the\nmost mischievous error sprung from the greatest mental perversity.\n\n\n\n\nON BOOKS AND READING.\n\n\nIgnorance is degrading only when found in company with riches. The poor\nman is restrained by poverty and need: labor occupies his thoughts, and\ntakes the place of knowledge. But rich men who are ignorant live for\ntheir lusts only, and are like the beasts of the field; as may be seen\nevery day: and they can also be reproached for not having used wealth\nand leisure for that which gives them their greatest value.\n\nWhen we read, another person thinks for us: we merely repeat his mental\nprocess. In learning to write, the pupil goes over with his pen what the\nteacher has outlined in pencil: so in reading; the greater part of the\nwork of thought is already done for us. This is why it relieves us to\ntake up a book after being occupied with our own thoughts. And in\nreading, the mind is, in fact, only the playground of another's\nthoughts. So it comes about that if anyone spends almost the whole day\nin reading, and by way of relaxation devotes the intervals to some\nthoughtless pastime, he gradually loses the capacity for thinking; just\nas the man who always rides, at last forgets how to walk. This is the\ncase with many learned persons: they have read themselves stupid. For to\noccupy every spare moment in reading, and to do nothing but read, is\neven more paralyzing to the mind than constant manual labor, which at\nleast allows those engaged in it to follow their own thoughts. A spring\nnever free from the pressure of some foreign body at last loses its\nelasticity; and so does the mind if other people's thoughts are\nconstantly forced upon it. Just as you can ruin the stomach and impair\nthe whole body by taking too much nourishment, so you can overfill and\nchoke the mind by feeding it too much. The more you read, the fewer are\nthe traces left by what you have read: the mind becomes like a tablet\ncrossed over and over with writing. There is no time for ruminating, and\nin no other way can you assimilate what you have read. If you read on\nand on without setting your own thoughts to work, what you have read can\nnot strike root, and is generally lost. It is, in fact, just the same\nwith mental as with bodily food: hardly the fifth part of what one takes\nis assimilated. The rest passes off in evaporation, respiration and the\nlike.\n\nThe result of all this is that thoughts put on paper are nothing more\nthan footsteps in the sand: you see the way the man has gone, but to\nknow what he saw on his walk, you want his eyes.\n\nThere is no quality of style that can be gained by reading writers who\npossess it; whether it be persuasiveness, imagination, the gift of\ndrawing comparisons, boldness, bitterness, brevity, grace, ease of\nexpression or wit, unexpected contrasts, a laconic or naive manner, and\nthe like. But if these qualities are already in us, exist, that is to\nsay, potentially, we can call them forth and bring them to\nconsciousness; we can learn the purposes to which they can be put; we\ncan be strengthened in our inclination to use them, or get courage to do\nso; we can judge by examples the effect of applying them, and so acquire\nthe correct use of them; and of course it is only when we have arrived\nat that point that we actually possess these qualities. The only way in\nwhich reading can form style is by teaching us the use to which we can\nput our own natural gifts. We must have these gifts before we begin to\nlearn the use of them. Without them, reading teaches us nothing but\ncold, dead mannerisms and makes us shallow imitators.\n\nThe strata of the earth preserve in rows the creatures which lived in\nformer ages; and the array of books on the shelves of a library stores\nup in like manner the errors of the past and the way in which they have\nbeen exposed. Like those creatures, they too were full of life in their\ntime, and made a great deal of noise; but now they are stiff and\nfossilized, and an object of curiosity to the literary palaeontologist\nalone.\n\nHerodotus relates that Xerxes wept at the sight of his army, which\nstretched further than the eye could reach, in the thought that of all\nthese, after a hundred years, not one would be alive. And in looking\nover a huge catalogue of new books, one might weep at thinking that,\nwhen ten years have passed, not one of them will be heard of.\n\nIt is in literature as in life: wherever you turn, you stumble at once\nupon the incorrigible mob of humanity, swarming in all directions,\ncrowding and soiling everything, like flies in summer. Hence the number,\nwhich no man can count, of bad books, those rank weeds of literature,\nwhich draw nourishment from the corn and choke it. The time, money and\nattention of the public, which rightfully belong to good books and their\nnoble aims, they take for themselves: they are written for the mere\npurpose of making money or procuring places. So they are not only\nuseless; they do positive mischief. Nine-tenths of the whole of our\npresent literature has no other aim than to get a few shillings out of\nthe pockets of the public; and to this end author, publisher and\nreviewer are in league.\n\nLet me mention a crafty and wicked trick, albeit a profitable and\nsuccessful one, practised by litt\u00e9rateurs, hack writers, and voluminous\nauthors. In complete disregard of good taste and the true culture of the\nperiod, they have succeeded in getting the whole of the world of fashion\ninto leading strings, so that they are all trained to read in time, and\nall the same thing, viz., _the newest books_; and that for the purpose\nof getting food for conversation in the circles in which they move. This\nis the aim served by bad novels, produced by writers who were once\ncelebrated, as Spindler, Bulwer Lytton, Eugene Sue. What can be more\nmiserable than the lot of a reading public like this, always bound to\nperuse the latest works of extremely commonplace persons who write for\nmoney only, and who are therefore never few in number? and for this\nadvantage they are content to know by name only the works of the few\nsuperior minds of all ages and all countries. Literary newspapers, too,\nare a singularly cunning device for robbing the reading public of the\ntime which, if culture is to be attained, should be devoted to the\ngenuine productions of literature, instead of being occupied by the\ndaily bungling commonplace persons.\n\nHence, in regard to reading, it is a very important thing to be able to\nrefrain. Skill in doing so consists in not taking into one's hands any\nbook merely because at the time it happens to be extensively read; such\nas political or religious pamphlets, novels, poetry, and the like, which\nmake a noise, and may even attain to several editions in the first and\nlast year of their existence. Consider, rather, that the man who writes\nfor fools is always sure of a large audience; be careful to limit your\ntime for reading, and devote it exclusively to the works of those great\nminds of all times and countries, who o'ertop the rest of humanity,\nthose whom the voice of fame points to as such. These alone really\neducate and instruct. You can never read bad literature too little, nor\ngood literature too much. Bad books are intellectual poison; they\ndestroy the mind. Because people always read what is new instead of the\nbest of all ages, writers remain in the narrow circle of the ideas which\nhappen to prevail in their time; and so the period sinks deeper and\ndeeper into its own mire.\n\nThere are at all times two literatures in progress, running side by\nside, but little known to each other; the one real, the other only\napparent. The former grows into permanent literature; it is pursued by\nthose who live _for_ science or poetry; its course is sober and quiet,\nbut extremely slow; and it produces in Europe scarcely a dozen works in\na century; these, however, are permanent. The other kind is pursued by\npersons who live _on_ science or poetry; it goes at a gallop with much\nnoise and shouting of partisans; and every twelve-month puts a thousand\nworks on the market. But after a few years one asks, Where are they?\nwhere is the glory which came so soon and made so much clamor? This kind\nmay be called fleeting, and the other, permanent literature.\n\nIn the history of politics, half a century is always a considerable\ntime; the matter which goes to form them is ever on the move; there is\nalways something going on. But in the history of literature there is\noften a complete standstill for the same period; nothing has happened,\nfor clumsy attempts don't count. You are just where you were fifty years\npreviously.\n\nTo explain what I mean, let me compare the advance of knowledge among\nmankind to the course taken by a planet. The false paths on which\nhumanity usually enters after every important advance are like the\nepicycles in the Ptolemaic system, and after passing through one of\nthem, the world is just where it was before it entered it. But the great\nminds, who really bring the race further on its course do not accompany\nit on the epicycles it makes from time to time. This explains why\nposthumous fame is often bought at the expense of contemporary praise,\nand _vice versa_. An instance of such an epicycle is the philosophy\nstarted by Fichte and Schelling, and crowned by Hegel's caricature of\nit. This epicycle was a deviation from the limit to which philosophy had\nbeen ultimately brought by Kant; and at that point I took it up again\nafterwards, to carry it further. In the intervening period the sham\nphilosophers I have mentioned and some others went through their\nepicycle, which had just come to an end; so that those who went with\nthem on their course are conscious of the fact that they are exactly at\nthe point from which they started.\n\nThis circumstance explains why it is that, every thirty years or so,\nscience, literature, and art, as expressed in the spirit of the time,\nare declared bankrupt. The errors which appear from time to time amount\nto such a height in that period that the mere weight of their absurdity\nmakes the fabric fall; whilst the opposition to them has been gathering\nforce at the same time. So an upset takes place, often followed by an\nerror in the opposite direction. To exhibit these movements in their\nperiodical return would be the true practical aim of the history of\nliterature: little attention, however, is paid to it. And besides, the\ncomparatively short duration of these periods makes it difficult to\ncollect the data of epochs long gone by, so that it is most convenient\nto observe how the matter stands in one's own generation. An instance of\nthis tendency, drawn from physical science, is supplied in the Neptunian\ngeology of Werter.\n\nBut let me keep strictly to the example cited above, the nearest we can\ntake. In German philosophy, the brilliant epoch of Kant was immediately\nfollowed by a period which aimed rather at being imposing than at\nconvincing. Instead of being thorough and clear, it tried to be\ndazzling, hyperbolical, and, in a special degree, unintelligible:\ninstead of seeking truth, it intrigued. Philosophy could make no\nprogress in this fashion; and at last the whole school and its method\nbecame bankrupt. For the effrontery of Hegel and his fellows came to\nsuch a pass,--whether because they talked such sophisticated nonsense,\nor were so unscrupulously puffed, or because the entire aim of this\npretty piece of work was quite obvious,--that in the end there was\nnothing to prevent charlatanry of the whole business from becoming\nmanifest to everybody: and when, in consequence of certain disclosures,\nthe favor it had enjoyed in high quarters was withdrawn, the system was\nopenly ridiculed. This most miserable of all the meagre philosophies\nthat have ever existed came to grief, and dragged down with it into the\nabysm of discredit, the systems of Fichte and Schelling which had\npreceded it. And so, as far as Germany is concerned, the total\nphilosophical incompetence of the first half of the century following\nupon Kant is quite plain: and still the Germans boast of their talent\nfor philosophy in comparison with foreigners, especially since an\nEnglish writer has been so maliciously ironical as to call them \"a\nnation of thinkers.\"\n\nFor an example of the general system of epicycles drawn from the history\nof art, look at the school of sculpture which flourished in the last\ncentury and took its name from Bernini, more especially at the\ndevelopment of it which prevailed in France. The ideal of this school\nwas not antique beauty, but commonplace nature: instead of the\nsimplicity and grace of ancient art, it represented the manners of a\nFrench minuet.\n\nThis tendency became bankrupt when, under Winkelman's direction, a\nreturn was made to the antique school. The history of painting furnishes\nan illustration in the first quarter of the century, when art was looked\nupon merely as a means and instrument of mediaeval religious sentiment,\nand its themes consequently drawn from ecclesiastical subjects alone:\nthese, however, were treated by painters who had none of the true\nearnestness of faith, and in their delusion they followed Francesco\nFrancia, Pietro Perugino, Angelico da Fiesole and others like them,\nrating them higher even than the really great masters who followed. It\nwas in view of this terror, and because in poetry an analogous aim had\nat the same time found favor, that Goethe wrote his parable\n_Pfaffenspiel_. This school, too, got the reputation of being whimsical,\nbecame bankrupt, and was followed by a return to nature, which\nproclaimed itself in _genre_ pictures and scenes of life of every kind,\neven though it now and then strayed into what was vulgar.\n\nThe progress of the human mind in literature is similar. The history of\nliterature is for the most part like the catalogue of a museum of\ndeformities; the spirit in which they keep best is pigskin. The few\ncreatures that have been born in goodly shape need not be looked for\nthere. They are still alive, and are everywhere to be met with in the\nworld, immortal, and with their years ever green. They alone form what I\nhave called real literature; the history of which, poor as it is in\npersons, we learn from our youth up out of the mouths of all educated\npeople, before compilations recount it for us.\n\nAs an antidote to the prevailing monomania for reading literary\nhistories, in order to be able to chatter about everything, without\nhaving any real knowledge at all, let me refer to a passage in\nLichtenberg's works (vol. II., p. 302), which is well worth perusal.\n\nI believe that the over-minute acquaintance with the history of science\nand learning, which is such a prevalent feature of our day, is very\nprejudicial to the advance of knowledge itself. There is pleasure in\nfollowing up this history; but as a matter of fact, it leaves the mind,\nnot empty indeed, but without any power of its own, just because it\nmakes it so full. Whoever has felt the desire, not to fill up his mind,\nbut to strengthen it, to develop his faculties and aptitudes, and\ngenerally, to enlarge his powers, will have found that there is nothing\nso weakening as intercourse with a so-called litt\u00e9rateur, on a matter of\nknowledge on which he has not thought at all, though he knows a thousand\nlittle facts appertaining to its history and literature. It is like\nreading a cookery-book when you are hungry. I believe that so-called\nliterary history will never thrive amongst thoughtful people, who are\nconscious of their own worth and the worth of real knowledge. These\npeople are more given to employing their own reason than to troubling\nthemselves to know how others have employed theirs. The worst of it is\nthat, as you will find, the more knowledge takes the direction of\nliterary research, the less the power of promoting knowledge becomes;\nthe only thing that increases is pride in the possession of it. Such\npersons believe that they possess knowledge in a greater degree than\nthose who really possess it. It is surely a well-founded remark, that\nknowledge never makes its possessor proud. Those alone let themselves be\nblown out with pride, who incapable of extending knowledge in their own\npersons, occupy themselves with clearing up dark points in its history,\nor are able to recount what others have done. They are proud, because\nthey consider this occupation, which is mostly of a mechanical nature,\nthe practice of knowledge. I could illustrate what I mean by examples,\nbut it would be an odious task.\n\nStill, I wish some one would attempt a _tragical_ history of literature,\ngiving the way in which the writers and artists, who form the proudest\npossession of the various nations which have given them birth, have been\ntreated by them during their lives. Such a history would exhibit the\nceaseless warfare, which what was good and genuine in all times and\ncountries has had to wage with what was bad and perverse. It would tell\nof the martyrdom of almost all those who truly enlightened humanity, of\nalmost all the great masters of every kind of art: it would show us how,\nwith few exceptions, they were tormented to death, without recognition,\nwithout sympathy, without followers; how they lived in poverty and\nmisery, whilst fame, honor, and riches, were the lot of the unworthy;\nhow their fate was that of Esau, who while he was hunting and getting\nvenison for his father, was robbed of the blessing by Jacob, disguised\nin his brother's clothes, how, in spite of all, they were kept up by the\nlove of their work, until at last the bitter fight of the teacher of\nhumanity is over, until the immortal laurel is held out to him, and the\nhour strikes when it can be said:\n\n  Der sehwere Panzer wird zum Fl\u00fcgelkleide\n  Kurz ist der Schmerz, unendlich ist die Freude.\n\n\n\n\nPHYSIOGNOMY.\n\n\nThat the outer man is a picture of the inner, and the face an expression\nand revelation of the whole character, is a presumption likely enough in\nitself, and therefore a safe one to go by; evidenced as it is by the\nfact that people are always anxious to see anyone who has made himself\nfamous by good or evil, or as the author of some extraordinary work; or\nif they cannot get a sight of him, to hear at any rate from others what\nhe looks like. So people go to places where they may expect to see the\nperson who interests them; the press, especially in England, endeavors\nto give a minute and striking description of his appearance; painters\nand engravers lose no time in putting him visibly before us; and finally\nphotography, on that very account of such high value, affords the most\ncomplete satisfaction of our curiosity. It is also a fact that in\nprivate life everyone criticises the physiognomy of those he comes\nacross, first of all secretly trying to discern their intellectual and\nmoral character from their features. This would be a useless proceeding\nif, as some foolish people fancy, the exterior of a man is a matter of\nno account; if, as they think, the soul is one thing and the body\nanother, and the body related to the soul merely as the coat to the man\nhimself.\n\nOn the contrary, every human face is a hieroglyphic, and a hieroglyphic,\ntoo, which admits of being deciphered, the alphabet of which we carry\nabout with us already perfected. As a matter of fact, the face of a man\ngives us a fuller and more interesting information than his tongue; for\nhis face is the compendium of all he will ever say, as it is the one\nrecord of all his thoughts and endeavors. And, moreover, the tongue\ntells the thought of one man only, whereas the face expresses a thought\nof nature itself: so that everyone is worth attentive observation, even\nthough everyone may not be worth talking to. And if every individual is\nworth observation as a single thought of nature, how much more so is\nbeauty, since it is a higher and more general conception of nature, is,\nin fact, her thought of a species. This is why beauty is so captivating:\nit is a fundamental thought of nature: whereas the individual is only a\nby-thought, a corollary.\n\nIn private, people always proceed upon the principle that a man is what\nhe looks; and the principle is a right one, only the difficulty lies in\nits application. For though the art of applying the principle is partly\ninnate and may be partly gained by experience, no one is a master of it,\nand even the most experienced is not infallible. But for all that,\nwhatever Figaro may say, it is not the face which deceives; it is we who\ndeceive ourselves in reading in it what is not there.\n\nThe deciphering of a face is certainly a great and difficult art, and\nthe principles of it can never be learnt in the abstract. The first\ncondition of success is to maintain a purely objective point of view,\nwhich is no easy matter. For, as soon as the faintest trace of anything\nsubjective is present, whether dislike or favor, or fear or hope, or\neven the thought of the impression we ourselves are making upon the\nobject of our attention the characters we are trying to decipher become\nconfused and corrupt. The sound of a language is really appreciated only\nby one who does not understand it, and that because, in thinking of the\nsignification of a word, we pay no regard to the sign itself. So, in the\nsame way, a physiognomy is correctly gauged only by one to whom it is\nstill strange, who has not grown accustomed to the face by constantly\nmeeting and conversing with the man himself. It is, therefore, strictly\nspeaking, only the first sight of a man which affords that purely\nobjective view which is necessary for deciphering his features. An odor\naffects us only when we first come in contact with it, and the first\nglass of wine is the one which gives us its true taste: in the same way,\nit is only at the first encounter that a face makes its full impression\nupon us. Consequently the first impression should be carefully attended\nto and noted, even written down if the subject of it is of personal\nimportance, provided, of course, that one can trust one's own sense of\nphysiognomy. Subsequent acquaintance and intercourse will obliterate the\nimpression, but time will one day prove whether it is true.\n\nLet us, however, not conceal from ourselves the fact that this first\nimpression is for the most part extremely unedifying. How poor most\nfaces are! With the exception of those that are beautiful, good-natured,\nor intellectual, that is to say, the very few and far between, I believe\na person of any fine feeling scarcely ever sees a new face without a\nsensation akin to a shock, for the reason that it presents a new and\nsurprising combination of unedifying elements. To tell the truth, it is,\nas a rule, a sorry sight. There are some people whose faces bear the\nstamp of such artless vulgarity and baseness of character, such an\nanimal limitation of intelligence, that one wonders how they can appear\nin public with such a countenance, instead of wearing a mask. There are\nfaces, indeed, the very sight of which produces a feeling of pollution.\nOne cannot, therefore, take it amiss of people, whose privileged\nposition admits of it, if they manage to live in retirement and\ncompletely free from the painful sensation of \"seeing new faces.\" The\nmetaphysical explanation of this circumstance rests upon the\nconsideration that the individuality of a man is precisely that by the\nvery existence of which he should be reclaimed and corrected. If, on the\nother hand, a psychological explanation is satisfactory, let any one ask\nhimself what kind of physiognomy he may expect in those who have all\ntheir life long, except on the rarest occasions, harbored nothing but\npetty, base and miserable thoughts, and vulgar, selfish, envious, wicked\nand malicious desires. Every one of these thoughts and desires has set\nits mark upon the face during the time it lasted, and by constant\nrepetition, all these marks have in course of time become furrows and\nblotches, so to speak. Consequently, most people's appearance is such as\nto produce a shock at first sight; and it is only gradually that one\ngets accustomed to it, that is to say, becomes so deadened to the\nimpression that it has no more effect on one.\n\nAnd that the prevailing facial expression is the result of a long\nprocess of innumerable, fleeting and characteristic contractions of the\nfeatures is just the reason why intellectual countenances are of gradual\nformation. It is, indeed, only in old age that intellectual men attain\ntheir sublime expression, whilst portraits of them in their youth show\nonly the first traces of it. But on the other hand, what I have just\nsaid about the shock which the first sight of a face generally produces,\nis in keeping with the remark that it is only at that first sight that\nit makes its true and full impression. For to get a purely objective and\nuncorrupted impression of it, we must stand in no kind of relation to\nthe person; if possible, we must not yet have spoken with him. For every\nconversation places us to some extent upon a friendly footing,\nestablishes a certain _rapport_, a mutual subjective relation, which is\nat once unfavorable to an objective point of view. And as everyone's\nendeavor is to win esteem or friendship for himself, the man who is\nunder observation will at once employ all those arts of dissimulation in\nwhich he is already versed, and corrupt us with his airs, hypocrisies\nand flatteries; so that what the first look clearly showed will soon be\nseen by us no more.\n\nThis fact is at the bottom of the saying that \"most people gain by\nfurther acquaintance\"; it ought, however, to run, \"delude us by it.\" It\nis only when, later on, the bad qualities manifest themselves, that our\nfirst judgment as a rule receives its justification and makes good its\nscornful verdict. It may be that \"a further acquaintance\" is an\nunfriendly one, and if that is so, we do not find in this case either\nthat people gain by it. Another reason why people apparently gain on a\nnearer acquaintance is that the man whose first aspect warns us from\nhim, as soon as we converse with him, no longer shows his own being and\ncharacter, but also his education; that is, not only what he really is\nby nature, but also what he has appropriated to himself out of the\ncommon wealth of mankind. Three-fourths of what he says belongs not to\nhim, but to the sources from which he obtained it; so that we are often\nsurprised to hear a minotaur speak so humanly. If we make a still closer\nacquaintance, the animal nature, of which his face gave promise, will\nmanifest itself \"in all its splendor.\" If one is gifted with an acute\nsense for physiognomy, one should take special note of those verdicts\nwhich preceded a closer acquaintance and were therefore genuine. For the\nface of a man is the exact impression of what he is; and if he deceives\nus, that is our fault, not his. What a man says, on the other hand, is\nwhat he thinks, more often what he has learned, or it may be even, what\nhe pretends to think. And besides this, when we talk to him, or even\nhear him talking to others, we pay no attention to his physiognomy\nproper. It is the underlying substance, the fundamental _datum_, and we\ndisregard it; what interests us is its pathognomy, its play of feature\nduring conversation. This, however, is so arranged as to turn the good\nside upwards.\n\nWhen Socrates said to a young man who was introduced to him to have his\ncapabilities tested, \"Talk in order that I may see you,\" if indeed by\n\"seeing\" he did not simply mean \"hearing,\" he was right, so far as it is\nonly in conversation that the features and especially the eyes become\nanimated, and the intellectual resources and capacities set their mark\nupon the countenance. This puts us in a position to form a provisional\nnotion of the degree and capacity of intelligence; which was in that\ncase Socrates' aim. But in this connection it is to be observed,\nfirstly, that the rule does not apply to moral qualities, which lie\ndeeper, and in the second place, that what from an objective point of\nview we gain by the clearer development of the countenance in\nconversation, we lose from a subjective standpoint on account of the\npersonal relation into which the speaker at once enters in regard to us,\nand which produces a slight fascination, so that, as explained above, we\nare not left impartial observers. Consequently from the last point of\nview we might say with greater accuracy, \"Do not speak in order that I\nmay see you.\"\n\nFor to get a pure and fundamental conception of a man's physiognomy, we\nmust observe him when he is alone and left to himself. Society of any\nkind and conversation throw a reflection upon him which is not his own,\ngenerally to his advantage; as he is thereby placed in a state of action\nand reaction which sets him off. But alone and left to himself, plunged\nin the depths of his own thoughts and sensations, he is wholly himself,\nand a penetrating eye for physiognomy can at one glance take a general\nview of his entire character. For his face, looked at by and in itself,\nexpresses the keynote of all his thoughts and endeavors, the _arr\u00eat\nirrevocable_, the irrevocable decree of his destiny, the consciousness\nof which only comes to him when he is alone.\n\nThe study of physiognomy is one of the chief means of a knowledge of\nmankind, because the cast of a man's face is the only sphere in which\nhis arts of dissimulation are of no avail, since these arts extended\nonly to that play of feature which is akin to mimicry. And that is why I\nrecommend such a study to be undertaken when the subject of it is alone\nand given up to his own thoughts, and before he is spoken to: and this\npartly for the reason that it is only in such a condition that\ninspection of the physiognomy pure and simple is possible, because\nconversation at once lets in a pathognomical element, in which a man can\napply the arts of dissimulation which he has learned: partly again\nbecause personal contact, even of the very slightest kind, gives a\ncertain bias and so corrupts the judgment of the observer.\n\nAnd in regard to the study of physiognomy in general, it is further to\nbe observed that intellectual capacity is much easier of discernment\nthan moral character. The former naturally takes a much more outward\ndirection, and expresses itself not only in the face and the play of\nfeature, but also in the gait, down even to the very slightest movement.\nOne could perhaps discriminate from behind between a blockhead, a fool\nand a man of genius. The blockhead would be discerned by the torpidity\nand sluggishness of all his movements: folly sets its mark upon every\ngesture, and so does intellect and a studious nature. Hence that remark\nof La Bruy\u00e8re that there is nothing so slight, so simple or\nimperceptible but that our way of doing it enters in and betrays us: a\nfool neither comes nor goes, nor sits down, nor gets up, nor holds his\ntongue, nor moves about in the same way as an intelligent man. (And this\nis, be it observed by way of parenthesis, the explanation of that sure\nand certain instinct which, according to Helvetius, ordinary folk\npossess of discerning people of genius, and of getting out of their\nway.)\n\nThe chief reason for this is that, the larger and more developed the\nbrain, and the thinner, in relation to it, the spine and nerves, the\ngreater is the intellect; and not the intellect alone, but at the same\ntime the mobility and pliancy of all the limbs; because the brain\ncontrols them more immediately and resolutely; so that everything hangs\nmore upon a single thread, every movement of which gives a precise\nexpression to its purpose.\n\nThis is analogous to, nay, is immediately connected with the fact that\nthe higher an animal stands in the scale of development, the easier it\nbecomes to kill it by wounding a single spot. Take, for example,\nbatrachia: they are slow, cumbrous and sluggish in their movements; they\nare unintelligent, and, at the same time, extremely tenacious of life;\nthe reason of which is that, with a very small brain, their spine and\nnerves are very thick. Now gait and movement of the arms are mainly\nfunctions of the brain; our limbs receive their motion and every little\nmodification of it from the brain through the medium of the spine.\n\nThis is why conscious movements fatigue us: the sensation of fatigue,\nlike that of pain, has its seat in the brain, not, as people commonly\nsuppose, in the limbs themselves; hence motion induces sleep.\n\nOn the other hand those motions which are not excited by the brain, that\nis, the unconscious movements of organic life, of the heart, of the\nlungs, etc., go on in their course without producing fatigue. And as\nthought, equally with motion, is a function of the brain, the character\nof the brain's activity is expressed equally in both, according to the\nconstitution of the individual; stupid people move like lay-figures,\nwhile every joint of an intelligent man is eloquent.\n\nBut gesture and movement are not nearly so good an index of intellectual\nqualities as the face, the shape and size of the brain, the contraction\nand movement of the features, and above all the eye,--from the small,\ndull, dead-looking eye of a pig up through all gradations to the\nirradiating, flashing eyes of a genius.\n\nThe look of good sense and prudence, even of the best kind, differs from\nthat of genius, in that the former bears the stamp of subjection to the\nwill, while the latter is free from it.\n\nAnd therefore one can well believe the anecdote told by Squarzafichi in\nhis life of Petrarch, and taken from Joseph Brivius, a contemporary of\nthe poet, how once at the court of the Visconti, when Petrarch and other\nnoblemen and gentlemen were present, Galeazzo Visconti told his son, who\nwas then a mere boy (he was afterwards first Duke of Milan), to pick out\nthe wisest of the company; how the boy looked at them all for a little,\nand then took Petrarch by the hand and led him up to his father, to the\ngreat admiration of all present. For so clearly does nature set the mark\nof her dignity on the privileged among mankind that even a child can\ndiscern it.\n\nTherefore, I should advise my sagacious countrymen, if ever again they\nwish to trumpet about for thirty years a very commonplace person as a\ngreat genius, not to choose for the purpose such a beerhouse-keeper\nphysiognomy as was possessed by that philosopher, upon whose face nature\nhad written, in her clearest characters, the familiar inscription,\n\"commonplace person.\"\n\nBut what applies to intellectual capacity will not apply to moral\nqualities, to character. It is more difficult to discern its\nphysiognomy, because, being of a metaphysical nature, it lies\nincomparably deeper.\n\nIt is true that moral character is also connected with the constitution,\nwith the organism, but not so immediately or in such direct connection\nwith definite parts of its system as is intellectual capacity.\n\nHence while everyone makes a show of his intelligence and endeavors to\nexhibit it at every opportunity, as something with which he is in\ngeneral quite contented, few expose their moral qualities freely, and\nmost people intentionally cover them up; and long practice makes the\nconcealment perfect. In the meantime, as I explained above, wicked\nthoughts and worthless efforts gradually set their mask upon the face,\nespecially the eyes. So that, judging by physiognomy, it is easy to\nwarrant that a given man will never produce an immortal work; but not\nthat he will never commit a great crime.\n\n\n\n\nPSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.\n\n\nFor every animal, and more especially for man, a certain conformity and\nproportion between the will and the intellect is necessary for existing\nor making any progress in the world. The more precise and correct the\nproportion which nature establishes, the more easy, safe and agreeable\nwill be the passage through the world. Still, if the right point is only\napproximately reached, it will be enough to ward off destruction. There\nare, then, certain limits within which the said proportion may vary, and\nyet preserve a correct standard of conformity. The normal standard is as\nfollows. The object of the intellect is to light and lead the will on\nits path, and therefore, the greater the force, impetus and passion,\nwhich spurs on the will from within, the more complete and luminous must\nbe the intellect which is attached to it, that the vehement strife of\nthe will, the glow of passion, and the intensity of the emotions, may\nnot lead man astray, or urge him on to ill considered, false or ruinous\naction; this will, inevitably, be the result, if the will is very\nviolent and the intellect very weak. On the other hand, a phlegmatic\ncharacter, a weak and languid will, can get on and hold its own with a\nsmall amount of intellect; what is naturally moderate needs only\nmoderate support. The general tendency of a want of proportion between\nthe will and the intellect, in other words, of any variation from the\nnormal proportion I have mentioned, is to produce unhappiness, whether\nit be that the will is greater than the intellect, or the intellect\ngreater than the will. Especially is this the case when the intellect is\ndeveloped to an abnormal degree of strength and superiority, so as to be\nout of all proportion to the will, a condition which is the essence of\nreal genius; the intellect is then not only more than enough for the\nneeds and aims of life, it is absolutely prejudicial to them. The result\nis that, in youth, excessive energy in grasping the objective world,\naccompanied by a vivid imagination and a total lack of experience, makes\nthe mind susceptible, and an easy prey to extravagant ideas, nay, even\nto chimeras; and the result is an eccentric and phantastic character.\nAnd when, in later years, this state of mind yields and passes away\nunder the teaching of experience, still the genius never feels himself\nat home in the common world of every day and the ordinary business of\nlife; he will never take his place in it, and accommodate himself to it\nas accurately as the person of moral intellect; he will be much more\nlikely to make curious mistakes. For the ordinary mind feels itself so\ncompletely at home in the narrow circle of its ideas and views of the\nworld that no one can get the better of it in that sphere; its faculties\nremain true to their original purpose, viz., to promote the service of\nthe will; it devotes itself steadfastly to this end, and abjures\nextravagant aims. The genius, on the other hand, is at bottom a\n_monstrum per excessum_; just as, conversely, the passionate, violent\nand unintelligent man, the brainless barbarian, is a _monstrum per\ndefectum_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n_The will to live_, which forms the inmost core of every living being,\nexhibits itself most conspicuously in the higher order of animals, that\nis, the cleverer ones; and so in them the nature of the will may be seen\nand examined most clearly. For in the lower orders its activity is not\nso evident; it has a lower degree of objectivation; whereas, in the\nclass which stands above the higher order of animals, that is, in men,\nreason enters in; and with reason comes discretion, and with discretion,\nthe capacity of dissimulation, which throws a veil over the operations\nof the will. And in mankind, consequently, the will appears without its\nmask only in the affections and the passions. And this is the reason why\npassion, when it speaks, always wins credence, no matter what the\npassion may be; and rightly so. For the same reason the passions are the\nmain theme of poets and the stalking horse of actors. The\nconspicuousness of the will in the lower order of animals explains the\ndelight we take in dogs, apes, cats, etc.; it is the entirely naive way\nin which they express themselves that gives us so much pleasure.\n\nThe sight of any free animal going about its business undisturbed,\nseeking its food, or looking after its young, or mixing in the company\nof its kind, all the time being exactly what it ought to be and can\nbe,--what a strange pleasure it gives us! Even if it is only a bird, I\ncan watch it for a long time with delight; or a water rat or a hedgehog;\nor better still, a weasel, a deer, or a stag. The main reason why we\ntake so much pleasure in looking at animals is that we like to see our\nown nature in such a simplified form. There is only one mendacious being\nin the world, and that is man. Every other is true and sincere, and\nmakes no attempt to conceal what it is, expressing its feelings just as\nthey are.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMany things are put down to the force of habit which are rather to be\nattributed to the constancy and immutability of original, innate\ncharacter, according to which under like circumstances we always do the\nsame thing: whether it happens for the first or the hundredth time, it\nis in virtue of the same necessity. Real force of habit, as a matter of\nfact, rests upon that indolent, passive disposition which seeks to\nrelieve the intellect and the will of a fresh choice, and so makes us do\nwhat we did yesterday and have done a hundred times before, and of which\nwe know that it will attain its object. But the truth of the matter lies\ndeeper, and a more precise explanation of it can be given than appears\nat first sight. Bodies which may be moved by mechanical means only are\nsubject to the power of inertia; and applied to bodies which may be\nacted on by motives, this power becomes the force of habit. The actions\nwhich we perform by mere habit come about, in fact, without any\nindividual separate motive brought into play for the particular case:\nhence, in performing them, we really do not think about them. A motive\nwas present only on the first few occasions on which the action\nhappened, which has since become a habit: the secondary after-effect of\nthis motive is the present habit, and it is sufficient to enable the\naction to continue: just as when a body had been set in motion by a\npush, it requires no more pushing in order to continue its motion; it\nwill go on to all eternity, if it meets with no friction. It is the same\nin the case of animals: training is a habit which is forced upon them.\nThe horse goes on drawing his cart quite contentedly, without having to\nbe urged on: the motion is the continued effect of those strokes of the\nwhip, which urged him on at first: by the law of inertia they have\nbecome perpetuated as habit. All this is really more than a mere\nparable: it is the underlying identity of the will at very different\ndegrees of its objectivation, in virtue of which the same law of motion\ntakes such different forms.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n_Vive muchos a\u00f1os_ is the ordinary greeting in Spain, and all over the\nearth it is quite customary to wish people a long life. It is presumably\nnot a knowledge of life which directs such a wish; it is rather\nknowledge of what man is in his inmost nature, _the will to live_.\n\nThe wish which everyone has that he may be remembered after his\ndeath,--a wish which rises to the longing for posthumous glory in the\ncase of those whose aims are high,--seems to me to spring from this\nclinging to life. When the time comes which cuts a man off from every\npossibility of real existence, he strives after a life which is still\nattainable, even though it be a shadowy and ideal one.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe deep grief we feel at the loss of a friend arises from the feeling\nthat in every individual there is something which no words can express,\nsomething which is peculiarly his own and therefore irreparable. _Omne\nindividuum ineffabile_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe may come to look upon the death of our enemies and adversaries, even\nlong after it has occurred, with just as much regret as we feel for that\nof our friends, viz., when we miss them as witnesses of our brilliant\nsuccess.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThat the sudden announcement of a very happy event may easily prove\nfatal rests upon the fact that happiness and misery depend merely on the\nproportion which our claims bear to what we get. Accordingly, the good\nthings we possess, or are certain of getting, are not felt to be such;\nbecause all pleasure is in fact of a negative nature and effects the\nrelief of pain, while pain or evil is what is really positive; it is the\nobject of immediate sensation. With the possession or certain\nexpectation of good things our demands rises, and increases our capacity\nfor further possession and larger expectations. But if we are depressed\nby continual misfortune, and our claims reduced to a minimum, the sudden\nadvent of happiness finds no capacity for enjoying it. Neutralized by an\nabsence of pre-existing claims, its effects are apparently positive, and\nso its whole force is brought into play; hence it may possibly break our\nfeelings, _i.e._, be fatal to them. And so, as is well known, one must\nbe careful in announcing great happiness. First, one must get the person\nto hope for it, then open up the prospect of it, then communicate part\nof it, and at last make it fully known. Every portion of the good news\nloses its efficacy, because it is anticipated by a demand, and room is\nleft for an increase in it. In view of all this, it may be said that our\nstomach for good fortune is bottomless, but the entrance to it is\nnarrow. These remarks are not applicable to great misfortunes in the\nsame way. They are more seldom fatal, because hope always sets itself\nagainst them. That an analogous part is not played by fear in the case\nof happiness results from the fact that we are instinctively more\ninclined to hope than to fear; just as our eyes turn of themselves\ntowards light rather than darkness.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHope is the result of confusing the desire that something should take\nplace with the probability that it will. Perhaps no man is free from\nthis folly of the heart, which deranges the intellect's correct\nappreciation of probability to such an extent that, if the chances are a\nthousand to one against it, yet the event is thought a likely one. Still\nin spite of this, a sudden misfortune is like a death stroke, whilst a\nhope that is always disappointed and still never dies, is like death by\nprolonged torture.\n\nHe who has lost all hope has also lost all fear; this is the meaning of\nthe expression \"desperate.\" It is natural to a man to believe what he\nwishes to be true, and to believe it because he wishes it, If this\ncharacteristic of our nature, at once beneficial and assuaging, is\nrooted out by many hard blows of fate, and a man comes, conversely, to a\ncondition in which he believes a thing must happen because he does not\nwish it, and what he wishes to happen can never be, just because he\nwishes it, this is in reality the state described as \"desperation.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThat we are so often deceived in others is not because our judgment is\nat fault, but because in general, as Bacon says, _intellectus luminis\nsicci non est, sed recipit infusionem a voluntate et affectibus_: that\nis to say, trifles unconsciously bias us for or against a person from\nthe very beginning. It may also be explained by our not abiding by the\nqualities which we really discover; we go on to conclude the presence of\nothers which we think inseparable from them, or the absence of those\nwhich we consider incompatible. For instance, when we perceive\ngenerosity, we infer justice; from piety, we infer honesty; from lying,\ndeception; from deception, stealing, etc.; a procedure which opens the\ndoor to many false views, partly because human nature is so strange,\npartly because our standpoint is so one-sided. It is true, indeed, that\ncharacter always forms a consistent and connected whole; but the roots\nof all its qualities lie too deep to allow of our concluding from\nparticular data in a given case whether certain qualities can or cannot\nexist together.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe often happen to say things that may in some way or other be\nprejudicial to us; but we keep silent about things that might make us\nlook ridiculous; because in this case effect follows very quickly on\ncause.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe pain of an unfulfilled wish is small in comparison with that of\nrepentance; for the one stands in the presence of the vast open future,\nwhilst the other has the irrevocable past closed behind it.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n_Geduld, patientia_, patience, especially the Spanish _sufrimiento_, is\nstrongly connected with the notion of _suffering_. It is therefore a\npassive state, just as the opposite is an active state of the mind, with\nwhich, when great, patience is incompatible. It is the innate virtue of\na phlegmatic, indolent, and spiritless people, as also of women. But\nthat it is nevertheless so very useful and necessary is a sign that the\nworld is very badly constituted.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMoney is human happiness in the abstract: he, then, who is no longer\ncapable of enjoying human happiness in the concrete, devotes his heart\nentirely to money.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nObstinacy is the result of the will forcing itself into the place of the\nintellect.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIf you want to find out your real opinion of anyone, observe the\nimpression made upon you by the first sight of a letter from him.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe course of our individual life and the events in it, as far as their\ntrue meaning and connection is concerned, may be compared to a piece of\nrough mosaic. So long as you stand close in front of it, you cannot get\na right view of the objects presented, nor perceive their significance\nor beauty. Both come in sight only when you stand a little way off. And\nin the same way you often understand the true connection of important\nevents in your life, not while they are going on, nor soon after they\nare past, but only a considerable time afterwards.\n\nIs this so, because we require the magnifying effect of imagination? or\nbecause we can get a general view only from a distance? or because the\nschool of experience makes our judgment ripe? Perhaps all of these\ntogether: but it is certain that we often view in the right light the\nactions of others, and occasionally even our own, only after the lapse\nof years. And as it is in one's own life, so it is in history.\n\nHappy circumstances in life are like certain groups of trees. Seen from\na distance they look very well: but go up to them and amongst them, and\nthe beauty vanishes; you don't know where it can be; it is only trees\nyou see. And so it is that we often envy the lot of others.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe doctor sees all the weakness of mankind, the lawyer all the\nwickedness, the theologian all the stupidity.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA person of phlegmatic disposition who is a blockhead, would, with a\nsanguine nature, be a fool.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow and then one learns something, but one forgets the whole day long.\n\nMoreover our memory is like a sieve, the holes of which in time get\nlarger and larger: the older we get, the quicker anything entrusted to\nit slips from the memory, whereas, what was fixed fast in it in early\ndays is there still. The memory of an old man gets clearer and clearer,\nthe further it goes back, and less clear the nearer it approaches the\npresent time; so that his memory, like his eyes, becomes short-sighted.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the process of learning you may be apprehensive about bewildering and\nconfusing the memory, but not about overloading it, in the strict sense\nof the word. The faculty for remembering is not diminished in proportion\nto what one has learnt, just as little as the number of moulds in which\nyou cast sand, lessens its capacity for being cast in new moulds. In\nthis sense the memory is bottomless. And yet the greater and more\nvarious any one's knowledge, the longer he takes to find out anything\nthat may suddenly be asked him; because he is like a shopkeeper who has\nto get the article wanted from a large and multifarious store; or, more\nstrictly speaking, because out of many possible trains of thought he has\nto recall exactly that one which, as a result of previous training,\nleads to the matter in question. For the memory is not a repository of\nthings you wish to preserve, but a mere dexterity of the intellectual\npowers; hence the mind always contains its sum of knowledge only\npotentially, never actually.\n\nIt sometimes happens that my memory will not reproduce some word in a\nforeign language, or a name, or some artistic expression, although I\nknow it very well. After I have bothered myself in vain about it for a\nlonger or a shorter time, I give up thinking about it altogether. An\nhour or two afterwards, in rare cases even later still, sometimes only\nafter four or five weeks, the word I was trying to recall occurs to me\nwhile I am thinking of something else, as suddenly as if some one had\nwhispered it to me. After noticing this phenomenon with wonder for very\nmany years, I have come to think that the probable explanation of it is\nas follows. After the troublesome and unsuccessful search, my will\nretains its craving to know the word, and so sets a watch for it in the\nintellect. Later on, in the course and play of thought, some word by\nchance occurs having the same initial letters or some other resemblance\nto the word which is sought; then the sentinel springs forward and\nsupplies what is wanting to make up the word, seizes it, and suddenly\nbrings it up in triumph, without my knowing where and how he got it; so\nit seems as if some one had whispered it to me. It is the same process\nas that adopted by a teacher towards a child who cannot repeat a word;\nthe teacher just suggests the first letter of the word, or even the\nsecond too; then the child remembers it. In default of this process, you\ncan end by going methodically through all the letters of the alphabet.\n\nIn the ordinary man, injustice rouses a passionate desire for vengeance;\nand it has often been said that vengeance is sweet. How many sacrifices\nhave been made just to enjoy the feeling of vengeance, without any\nintention of causing an amount of injury equivalent to what one has\nsuffered. The bitter death of the centaur Nessus was sweetened by the\ncertainty that he had used his last moments to work out an extremely\nclever vengeance. Walter Scott expresses the same human inclination in\nlanguage as true as it is strong: \"Vengeance is the sweetest morsel to\nthe mouth that ever was cooked in hell!\" I shall now attempt a\npsychological explanation of it.\n\nSuffering which falls to our lot in the course of nature, or by chance,\nor fate, does not, _ceteris paribus_, seem so painful as suffering which\nis inflicted on us by the arbitrary will of another. This is because we\nlook upon nature and chance as the fundamental masters of the world; we\nsee that the blow we received from them might just as well have fallen\non another. In the case of suffering which springs from this source, we\nbewail the common lot of humanity rather than our own misfortune. But\nthat it is the arbitrary will of another which inflicts the suffering,\nis a peculiarly bitter addition to the pain or injury it causes, viz.,\nthe consciousness that some one else is superior to us, whether by force\nor cunning, while we lie helpless. If amends are possible, amends heal\nthe injury; but that bitter addition, \"and it was you who did that to\nme,\" which is often more painful than the injury itself, is only to be\nneutralized by vengeance. By inflicting injury on the one who has\ninjured us, whether we do it by force or cunning, is to show our\nsuperiority to him, and to annul the proof of his superiority to us.\nThat gives our hearts the satisfaction towards which it yearns. So where\nthere is a great deal of pride and vanity, there also will there be a\ngreat desire of vengeance. But as the fulfillment of every wish brings\nwith it more or less of a sense of disappointment, so it is with\nvengeance. The delight we hope to get from it is mostly embittered by\ncompassion. Vengeance taken will often tear the heart and torment the\nconscience: the motive to it is no longer active, and what remains is\nthe evidence of our malice.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM.\n\n\nWhen the Church says that, in the dogmas of religion, reason is totally\nincompetent and blind, and its use to be reprehended, it is in reality\nattesting the fact that these dogmas are allegorical in their nature,\nand are not to be judged by the standard which reason, taking all things\n_sensu proprio_, can alone apply. Now the absurdities of a dogma are\njust the mark and sign of what is allegorical and mythical in it. In the\ncase under consideration, however, the absurdities spring from the fact\nthat two such heterogeneous doctrines as those of the Old and New\nTestaments had to be combined. The great allegory was of gradual growth.\nSuggested by external and adventitious circumstances, it was developed\nby the interpretation put upon them, an interpretation in quiet touch\nwith certain deep-lying truths only half realized. The allegory was\nfinally completed by Augustine, who penetrated deepest into its meaning,\nand so was able to conceive it as a systematic whole and supply its\ndefects. Hence the Augustinian doctrine, confirmed by Luther, is the\ncomplete form of Christianity; and the Protestants of to-day, who take\nRevelation _sensu proprio_ and confine it to a single individual, are in\nerror in looking upon the first beginnings of Christianity as its most\nperfect expression. But the bad thing about all religions is that,\ninstead of being able to confess their allegorical nature, they have to\nconceal it; accordingly, they parade their doctrine in all seriousness\nas true _sensu proprio_, and as absurdities form an essential part of\nthese doctrines, you have the great mischief of a continual fraud. And,\nwhat is worse, the day arrives when they are no longer true _sensu\nproprio_, and then there is an end of them; so that, in that respect, it\nwould be better to admit their allegorical nature at once. But the\ndifficulty is to teach the multitude that something can be both true and\nuntrue at the same time. And as all religions are in a greater or less\ndegree of this nature, we must recognize the fact that mankind cannot\nget on without a certain amount of absurdity, that absurdity is an\nelement in its existence, and illusion indispensable; as indeed other\naspects of life testify. I have said that the combination of the Old\nTestament with the New gives rise to absurdities. Among the examples\nwhich illustrate what I mean, I may cite the Christian doctrine of\nPredestination and Grace, as formulated by Augustine and adopted from\nhim by Luther; according to which one man is endowed with grace and\nanother is not. Grace, then, comes to be a privilege received at birth\nand brought ready into the world; a privilege, too, in a matter second\nto none in importance. What is obnoxious and absurd in this doctrine may\nbe traced to the idea contained in the Old Testament, that man is the\ncreation of an external will, which called him into existence out of\nnothing. It is quite true that genuine moral excellence is really\ninnate; but the meaning of the Christian doctrine is expressed in\nanother and more rational way by the theory of metempsychosis, common to\nBrahmans and Buddhists. According to this theory, the qualities which\ndistinguish one man from another are received at birth, are brought,\nthat is to say, from another world and a former life; these qualities\nare not an external gift of grace, but are the fruits of the acts\ncommitted in that other world. But Augustine's dogma of Predestination\nis connected with another dogma, namely, that the mass of humanity is\ncorrupt and doomed to eternal damnation, that very few will be found\nrighteous and attain salvation, and that only in consequence of the gift\nof grace, and because they are predestined to be saved; whilst the\nremainder will be overwhelmed by the perdition they have deserved, viz.,\neternal torment in hell. Taken in its ordinary meaning, the dogma is\nrevolting, for it comes to this: it condemns a man, who may be, perhaps,\nscarcely twenty years of age, to expiate his errors, or even his\nunbelief, in everlasting torment; nay, more, it makes this almost\nuniversal damnation the natural effect of original sin, and therefore\nthe necessary consequence of the Fall. This is a result which must have\nbeen foreseen by him who made mankind, and who, in the first place, made\nthem not better than they are, and secondly, set a trap for them into\nwhich he must have known they would fall; for he made the whole world,\nand nothing is hidden from him. According to this doctrine, then, God\ncreated out of nothing a weak race prone to sin, in order to give them\nover to endless torment. And, as a last characteristic, we are told that\nthis God, who prescribes forbearance and forgiveness of every fault,\nexercises none himself, but does the exact opposite; for a punishment\nwhich comes at the end of all things, when the world is over and done\nwith, cannot have for its object either to improve or deter, and is\ntherefore pure vengeance. So that, on this view, the whole race is\nactually destined to eternal torture and damnation, and created\nexpressly for this end, the only exception being those few persons who\nare rescued by election of grace, from what motive one does not know.\n\nPutting these aside, it looks as if the Blessed Lord had created the\nworld for the benefit of the devil! it would have been so much better\nnot to have made it at all. So much, then, for a dogma taken _sensu\nproprio_. But look at it _sensu allegorico_, and the whole matter\nbecomes capable of a satisfactory interpretation. What is absurd and\nrevolting in this dogma is, in the main, as I said, the simple outcome\nof Jewish theism, with its \"creation out of nothing,\" and really foolish\nand paradoxical denial of the doctrine of metempsychosis which is\ninvolved in that idea, a doctrine which is natural, to a certain extent\nself-evident, and, with the exception of the Jews, accepted by nearly\nthe whole human race at all times. To remove the enormous evil arising\nfrom Augustine's dogma, and to modify its revolting nature, Pope Gregory\nI., in the sixth century, very prudently matured the doctrine of\n_Purgatory_, the essence of which already existed in Origen (cf. Bayle's\narticle on Origen, note B.). The doctrine was regularly incorporated\ninto the faith of the Church, so that the original view was much\nmodified, and a certain substitute provided for the doctrine of\nmetempsychosis; for both the one and the other admit a process of\npurification. To the same end, the doctrine of \"the Restoration of all\nthings\" [Greek: apokatastasis] was established, according to which, in\nthe last act of the Human Comedy, the sinners one and all will be\nreinstated _in integrum_. It is only Protestants, with their obstinate\nbelief in the Bible, who cannot be induced to give up eternal punishment\nin hell. If one were spiteful, one might say, \"much good may it do\nthem,\" but it is consoling to think that they really do not believe the\ndoctrine; they leave it alone, thinking in their hearts, \"It can't be so\nbad as all that.\"\n\nThe rigid and systematic character of his mind led Augustine, in his\naustere dogmatism and his resolute definition of doctrines only just\nindicated in the Bible and, as a matter of fact, resting on very vague\ngrounds, to give hard outlines to these doctrines and to put a harsh\nconstruction on Christianity: the result of which is that his views\noffend us, and just as in his day Pelagianism arose to combat them, so\nnow in our day Rationalism does the same. Take, for example, the case as\nhe states it generally in the _De Civitate Dei_, Bk. xii. ch. 21. It\ncomes to this: God creates a being out of nothing, forbids him some\nthings, and enjoins others upon him; and because these commands are not\nobeyed, he tortures him to all eternity with every conceivable anguish;\nand for this purpose, binds soul and body inseparably together, so that,\ninstead, of the torment destroying this being by splitting him up into\nhis elements, and so setting him free, he may live to eternal pain. This\npoor creature, formed out of nothing! At least, he has a claim on his\noriginal nothing: he should be assured, as a matter of right, of this\nlast retreat, which, in any case, cannot be a very evil one: it is what\nhe has inherited. I, at any rate, cannot help sympathizing with him. If\nyou add to this Augustine's remaining doctrines, that all this does not\ndepend on the man's own sins and omissions, but was already predestined\nto happen, one really is at a loss what to think. Our highly educated\nRationalists say, to be sure, \"It's all false, it's a mere bugbear;\nwe're in a state of constant progress, step by step raising ourselves to\never greater perfection.\" Ah! what a pity we didn't begin sooner; we\nshould already have been there.\n\nIn the Christian system the devil is a personage of the greatest\nimportance. God is described as absolutely good, wise and powerful; and\nunless he were counterbalanced by the devil, it would be impossible to\nsee where the innumerable and measureless evils, which predominate in\nthe world, come from, if there were no devil to account for them. And\nsince the Rationalists have done away with the devil, the damage\ninflicted on the other side has gone on growing, and is becoming more\nand more palpable; as might have been foreseen, and was foreseen, by the\northodox. The fact is, you cannot take away one pillar from a building\nwithout endangering the rest of it. And this confirms the view, which\nhas been established on other grounds, that Jehovah is a transformation\nof Ormuzd, and Satan of the Ahriman who must be taken in connection with\nhim. Ormuzd himself is a transformation of Indra.\n\nChristianity has this peculiar disadvantage, that, unlike other\nreligions, it is not a pure system of doctrine: its chief and essential\nfeature is that it is a history, a series of events, a collection of\nfacts, a statement of the actions and sufferings of individuals: it is\nthis history which constitutes dogma, and belief in it is salvation.\nOther religions, Buddhism, for instance, have, it is true, historical\nappendages, the life, namely, of their founders: this, however, is not\npart and parcel of the dogma but is taken along with it. For example,\nthe Lalitavistara may be compared with the Gospel so far as it contains\nthe life of Sakya-muni, the Buddha of the present period of the world's\nhistory: but this is something which is quite separate and different\nfrom the dogma, from the system itself: and for this reason; the lives\nof former Buddhas were quite other, and those of the future will be\nquite other, than the life of the Buddha of to-day. The dogma is by no\nmeans one with the career of its founder; it does not rest on individual\npersons or events; it is something universal and equally valid at all\ntimes. The Lalitavistara is not, then, a gospel in the Christian sense\nof the word; it is not the joyful message of an act of redemption; it is\nthe career of him who has shown how each one may redeem himself. The\nhistorical constitution of Christianity makes the Chinese laugh at\nmissionaries as story-tellers.\n\nI may mention here another fundamental error of Christianity, an error\nwhich cannot be explained away, and the mischievous consequences of\nwhich are obvious every day: I mean the unnatural distinction\nChristianity makes between man and the animal world to which he really\nbelongs. It sets up man as all-important, and looks upon animals as\nmerely things. Brahmanism and Buddhism, on the other hand, true to the\nfacts, recognize in a positive way that man is related generally to the\nwhole of nature, and specially and principally to animal nature; and in\ntheir systems man is always represented by the theory of metempsychosis\nand otherwise, as closely connected with the animal world. The important\npart played by animals all through Buddhism and Brahmanism, compared\nwith the total disregard of them in Judaism and Christianity, puts an\nend to any question as to which system is nearer perfection, however\nmuch we in Europe may have become accustomed to the absurdity of the\nclaim. Christianity contains, in fact, a great and essential\nimperfection in limiting its precepts to man, and in refusing rights to\nthe entire animal world. As religion fails to protect animals against\nthe rough, unfeeling and often more than bestial multitude, the duty\nfalls to the police; and as the police are unequal to the task,\nsocieties for the protection of animals are now formed all over Europe\nand America. In the whole of uncircumcised Asia, such a procedure would\nbe the most superfluous thing in the world, because animals are there\nsufficiently protected by religion, which even makes them objects of\ncharity. How such charitable feelings bear fruit may be seen, to take an\nexample, in the great hospital for animals at Surat, whither Christians,\nMohammedans and Jews can send their sick beasts, which, if cured, are\nvery rightly not restored to their owners. In the same way when a\nBrahman or a Buddhist has a slice of good luck, a happy issue in any\naffair, instead of mumbling a _Te Deum_, he goes to the market-place and\nbuys birds and opens their cages at the city gate; a thing which may be\nfrequently seen in Astrachan, where the adherents of every religion meet\ntogether: and so on in a hundred similar ways. On the other hand, look\nat the revolting ruffianism with which our Christian public treats its\nanimals; killing them for no object at all, and laughing over it, or\nmutilating or torturing them: even its horses, who form its most direct\nmeans of livelihood, are strained to the utmost in their old age, and\nthe last strength worked out of their poor bones until they succumb at\nlast under the whip. One might say with truth, Mankind are the devils of\nthe earth, and the animals the souls they torment. But what can you\nexpect from the masses, when there are men of education, zoologists\neven, who, instead of admitting what is so familiar to them, the\nessential identity of man and animal, are bigoted and stupid enough to\noffer a zealous opposition to their honest and rational colleagues, when\nthey class man under the proper head as an animal, or demonstrate the\nresemblance between him and the chimpanzee or ourang-outang. It is a\nrevolting thing that a writer who is so pious and Christian in his\nsentiments as Jung Stilling should use a simile like this, in his\n_Scenen aus dem Geisterreich_. (Bk. II. sc. i., p. 15.) \"Suddenly the\nskeleton shriveled up into an indescribably hideous and dwarf-like form,\njust as when you bring a large spider into the focus of a burning glass,\nand watch the purulent blood hiss and bubble in the heat.\" This man of\nGod then was guilty of such infamy! or looked on quietly when another\nwas committing it! in either case it comes to the same thing here. So\nlittle harm did he think of it that he tells us of it in passing, and\nwithout a trace of emotion. Such are the effects of the first chapter of\nGenesis, and, in fact, of the whole of the Jewish conception of nature.\nThe standard recognized by the Hindus and Buddhists is the Mahavakya\n(the great word),--\"tat-twam-asi\" (this is thyself), which may always be\nspoken of every animal, to keep us in mind of the identity of his inmost\nbeing with ours. Perfection of morality, indeed! Nonsense.\n\nThe fundamental characteristics of the Jewish religion are realism and\noptimism, views of the world which are closely allied; they form, in\nfact, the conditions of theism. For theism looks upon the material world\nas absolutely real, and regards life as a pleasant gift bestowed upon\nus. On the other hand, the fundamental characteristics of the Brahman\nand Buddhist religions are idealism and pessimism, which look upon the\nexistence of the world as in the nature of a dream, and life as the\nresult of our sins. In the doctrines of the Zendavesta, from which, as\nis well known, Judaism sprang, the pessimistic element is represented by\nAhriman. In Judaism, Ahriman has as Satan only a subordinate position;\nbut, like Ahriman, he is the lord of snakes, scorpions, and vermin. But\nthe Jewish system forthwith employs Satan to correct its fundamental\nerror of optimism, and in the _Fall_ introduces the element of\npessimism, a doctrine demanded by the most obvious facts of the world.\nThere is no truer idea in Judaism than this, although it transfers to\nthe course of existence what must be represented as its foundation and\nantecedent.\n\nThe New Testament, on the other hand, must be in some way traceable to\nan Indian source: its ethical system, its ascetic view of morality, its\npessimism, and its Avatar, are all thoroughly Indian. It is its morality\nwhich places it in a position of such emphatic and essential antagonism\nto the Old Testament, so that the story of the Fall is the only possible\npoint of connection between the two. For when the Indian doctrine was\nimported into the land of promise, two very different things had to be\ncombined: on the one hand the consciousness of the corruption and misery\nof the world, its need of deliverance and salvation through an Avatar,\ntogether with a morality based on self-denial and repentance; on the\nother hand the Jewish doctrine of Monotheism, with its corollary that\n\"all things are very good\" [Greek: panta kala lian]. And the task\nsucceeded as far as it could, as far, that is, as it was possible to\ncombine two such heterogeneous and antagonistic creeds.\n\nAs ivy clings for the support and stay it wants to a rough-hewn post,\neverywhere conforming to its irregularities and showing their outline,\nbut at the same time covering them with life and grace, and changing the\nformer aspect into one that is pleasing to the eye; so the Christian\nfaith, sprung from the wisdom of India, overspreads the old trunk of\nrude Judaism, a tree of alien growth; the original form must in part\nremain, but it suffers a complete change and becomes full of life and\ntruth, so that it appears to be the same tree, but is really another.\n\nJudaism had presented the Creator as separated from the world, which he\nproduced out of nothing. Christianity identifies this Creator with the\nSaviour, and through him, with humanity: he stands as their\nrepresentative; they are redeemed in him, just as they fell in Adam, and\nhave lain ever since in the bonds of iniquity, corruption, suffering and\ndeath. Such is the view taken by Christianity in common with Buddhism;\nthe world can no longer be looked at in the light of Jewish optimism,\nwhich found \"all things very good\": nay, in the Christian scheme, the\ndevil is named as its Prince or Ruler ([Greek: ho archon tou\nkosmoutoutou.] John 12, 33). The world is no longer an end, but a means:\nand the realm of everlasting joy lies beyond it and the grave.\nResignation in this world and direction of all our hopes to a better,\nform the spirit of Christianity. The way to this end is opened by the\nAtonement, that is the Redemption from this world and its ways. And in\nthe moral system, instead of the law of vengeance, there is the command\nto love your enemy; instead of the promise of innumerable posterity, the\nassurance of eternal life; instead of visiting the sins of the fathers\nupon the children to the third and fourth generations, the Holy Spirit\ngoverns and overshadows all.\n\nWe see, then, that the doctrines of the Old Testament are rectified and\ntheir meaning changed by those of the New, so that, in the most\nimportant and essential matters, an agreement is brought about between\nthem and the old religions of India. Everything which is true in\nChristianity may also be found in Brahmanism and Buddhism. But in\nHinduism and Buddhism you will look in vain for any parallel to the\nJewish doctrines of \"a nothing quickened into life,\" or of \"a world made\nin time,\" which cannot be humble enough in its thanks and praises to\nJehovah for an ephemeral existence full of misery, anguish and need.\n\nWhoever seriously thinks that superhuman beings have ever given our race\ninformation as to the aim of its existence and that of the world, is\nstill in his childhood. There is no other revelation than the thoughts\nof the wise, even though these thoughts, liable to error as is the lot\nof everything human, are often clothed in strange allegories and myths\nunder the name of religion. So far, then, it is a matter of indifference\nwhether a man lives and dies in reliance on his own or another's\nthoughts; for it is never more than human thought, human opinion, which\nhe trusts. Still, instead of trusting what their own minds tell them,\nmen have as a rule a weakness for trusting others who pretend to\nsupernatural sources of knowledge. And in view of the enormous\nintellectual inequality between man and man, it is easy to see that the\nthoughts of one mind might appear as in some sense a revelation to\nanother.","title":"The Essays of Arthur Schopenhauer; Religion, a Dialogue, Etc.","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":29452}