'v'' "" ''' s \

RELIGION :

ftltt

tber

ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER

Vitam inijwulere wro. JUVRNAL

SELECTED AND TRANSLATED

uy
T. BAILEY SAUNDERS,

FOUETH

EDITION

LONDON :

SWAN SONNENSCHEIN & CO.

NEW YORK: MACMILLAN & CO.

1893.

101710

i>,

i

NOTE TO THE THIRD EDITION.

As a third edition of this little volume is called for, I have
taken the opportunity of adding two more Essays: the brief
dialogue on The. Failure of Philosophy > and some observa-
tions on The Metaphysics of fine Art The latter Essay is
a rendering of such portions of a chapter in the original,
entitled Zur Mctaphynk des Schonen, as appear to be gene-
rally interesting and easily intelligible. The chief statement
of Schopenhauer's view of Art is to be found in his large
work ; but as he gives a short essay in his Parerya, I have
thought it well to include it in this selection.

The Prefatory Note to be found in 1 ho first and second
editions of this volume is here omitted. It is now incor-
porated with the main 'Preface to the series in The Wisdom

T. B. S.

FEB., 1891.

T

CONTENTS.

Page

RELIGION : A DIALOGUE i

A FEW WORDS ON PANTHEISM 53

ON BOOKS AND READING 59

ON PHYSIOGNOMY . . . 73

PSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS 87

THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM 103

THE FAILURE OF PHILOSOPHY 119

THE METAPHYSICS OF FINE ART , 125

}t\

RELIGION:

A DIALOGUE.

Demopheles Between ourselves, my dear fellow, I
don't carr* about the way you sometimes have of
exhibiting your talent for philosophy ; you make
religion a subject for sarcastic remarks, and even for
open ridicule. Everyone thinks his religion sacred, | ,
and therefore you ought to resppct it. '

Philalethes. That doesn't follow ! I don't see why,
because other people are simpletons, I should have any
cegard for a pack of lies. I respect truth everywhere,
and so I can't respect what is opposed to it. My
maxim is Vigeat veritas et per eat mundus, like the
lawyers' Fiat justitia et pereat mundus. Every pro-
fession ought toliave an analogous device.

Demopheles. Then I suppose doctors should say
Fiant pilulae et pereat mundus, there wouldn't be
much difficulty about that !

Philalethes. Heaven forbid ! You must take every-
thing cum grcmo sali8.(^ /f ^- fr-f^**^ ^j*&- ?e f|> f '-' /

Demopheles. Exactly ; that'l why I want you to
take religion cumgrano salis, I want you to see that

4 EELIGION .

you must meet the requirements of the people accord-
ing to the measure of their comprehension. Where
you have masses of people, of crude susceptibilities and
clumsy intelligence, sordid in their pursuits and sunk
in drudgery, religion provides the only means of pro-
claiming and making them feel the high import of
life. For the average man takes an interest, primarily,
in nothing but what will satisfy his- phylical needs
and hankerings, and beyond this, give him a little
| amusement and pastime. Founders of religion and
I philosophers come into the world to rouse him from
;his stupor and point to the loftyj^aning of existence j
j philosophers for the few, the emancipated* founders of
^religion for the many, for humanity at large. For, as
your friend Plato has said, the multitude can't be
philosophers, and you shouldn't forget thai Religion
is the metaphysics of the ; by all means let

^l^j-^^ *^TT^''TF1El^fore command external re-
spect, for to discredit it is to take it away. Just as
.they Have popular poetry, and the popular wisdom of
proverbs, so they must have popular metaphysics too^
for mankind absolutely needs an interpretation o/)
life; and this, again, must be suited to popular eom-4
prehension. Consequently, this interpretation is \
always an allegorical investiture of ishe truth : and in /
^acjbicaljife and" in its elects on the feelings, that is
to say, as a rule of action and as % comfort and eon-
^olatjon in sUff^ffng and death, it accomplishes per-
haps just as much as the truth itself could achieve if
we possessed it. Don't take offence at its unkempt,
grotesque and apparently absurd form ; for with your
education and learning, you have no idea of the round-

A DIALOGUE. 5

about ways by which people in their crude state have
to receive their knowledge of deep truths. The
various religions are only various forms in which the \
trxjih, which taken by itself is above their compre- \
hjnsipn, is grasped and realised by the masses ; and \
truth becomes inseparable from these forms. There-
fore, my dear sir, don't take it amiss if I say that to
inal^^,i)afekery of .these forms. Js,,]^Qtb.,.^lLallpw &ad
unjust.

Philalethes. But isn't it every bit as shallow and
unjust to demand that there shall be no other system
of metaphysics but this one, cut out as it is to suit the
requirements and comprehension of the masses ? that
its doctrines shall be the limit of human speculation,
the standard of all thought, so that the metaphysics
of the few, the emancipated, as } r ou call them, must bo
devoted only to confirming, strengthening, and ex-
plaining the metaphysics of the masses ? that the
highest powers of human intelligence shall remain
unused and undeveloped^even be nipped in the bud, (
in order that their activity may not thwart the
* popular metaphysics? And isn't this just the very
claim which religion sets up ? Isn't it a little too }
much to have tolerance and delicate forbearance
preached by v^Jiat is intolerance and cruelty itself ? -
Think of the hereti^^ religious I

wars x crusades, Socrates' cup of poison, Bruno's and I
/Vanini's death in the flames ! Is all this to-day quite
1 a thing of the past ? How can genuine philosophical
"effort, sincere search after truth, the noblest calling of
tbe noblest men, be let and hindered mow completely
than by a conventional system of metaphysics enjoy-

RELIGION :

a State monopoly, the principles of which are
! impressed into every head in earliest youth so
' earnestly, so deeply, and so firmly, that, unless the
i mind is miraculously elastic, they remain indelible.
In this way the groundwork of all healthy reason is
once for all deranged ; that is to say, the capacity for
original thought and unbiased judgment, which is
weak enough in itself, is, in regard to those subjects
to which it might be applied, for ever paralysed and
ruined.

Demoplides. Which means, I suppose, that people
have aravedr-ot -a coayiction which they won't give
up in order to embrace yours instead.

Philalethes. Ah ! if it were only a conviction based
jog jjisightl Then one could bring arguments to bear,
and the battle would be fought with equal weapona
But religions. admittedly appeal, not to convicticm as
thej^^^^ argument, but to^belief as demanded by
revelation^ And as the capacity for believing is
strongest in childhood, special care is taken to make
sure of this tender age. This^has' much more to do
with the doctrines of belief taking root than threats '
and reports of miracles. If, in ea^rl^_childhood, cer-

tamjundamental views and doctrines are paraded with
and an a*"'

ness -never before visible in an} T thmg else ; if, at the
same time, the possibility of a doubt about them be
completely passed, over, or touched" xipon only to
Indicate that doubt is the first step to eternal perdition,
the re^^m^Jmpir,ession will be so deep that, as a
rule, that is, in almost every case, doubt "aboutTthem
mil be almost as impossible as doubt about one's own

li

A DIALOGUE.

7

existence. Hardly one in ten thousand will have the
strength of mind to ask himself seriously and
earnestly is that true ? To call such as can do it
strong minds, esprits forts, is a description apter than
is generally supposed. But for the ordinary mind
eh ere is nothing so absurd or revolting but what, if
inculcated in that way, the strongest belief in it will
strike root. If, for example, the killing of a heretic or
infidel were essential to the future salvation of his
soul, almost everyone would make it the chief event *
of his life, and in dying would draw consolation and *
strength from the remembrance that lie had suc-
ceeded. As a matter of fact, almost every ^jjagiapd
in days gone by used to look upon an auto da fe as
the most pious of all acts arid one most agreeable tu
God. A parallel to this may be found in the way in
which the Thugs (a religious sect in India, suppressed
a short time ago by the English, who executed
numbers of them) express their sense of religion and
their veneration for the goddess Kali ; they take every
opportunity of rpurdering their friends and travelling
companions, with the object of getting possession of
their goods, and in the serious conviction that they
are thereby doing a praiseworthy action, conducive to
their eternal wetfare.* Tlwj^owe^^

^compassion and'*Tffiglly every feeling or Humanity
But if you want to see with your own eyes and close
at hand what tmdj inoculatioja^f^ belief will accom-
plish, lookajjybgJEngli^K Here is a nation favoured

* Of. Illustrations of the history and practice of the Thugs,
London, 1837 ; also the Edinburgh Review, Oct. -Jan., 1836-7.

RELtGION J

before all others by nature ; endowed, more than all

others, with discernment, intelligence, power of judg-

ment, strength of character ; look at them, abased

\ and made ridiculous, beyond all others, i

which appears amongst
a fixed idea or monomania.

For this they have to thank the circumstance that
education is in the hands of the clergy, whose en-
deavour it is to impress all the articles of belief, at the
earliest age, in a way that amounts to a kind of
puralysis of the brain ; this in its turn expresses itself
all their life in an idiotic^^^^^, which makes other-
wise most sensible and intelligent people amongst
them degrade themselves so that one can't make head
or tail of them. If you consider how essential to such
a masterpiece is inoculation in the tender age of
childhood, the J^^^^^ys^tem appeal's no longer

only as the acmeotfiuma^Lirnportunity, arrogance
and impertinence, but also as an absurdity, if it doesn't
confine itself to nations which are still in their
infancy, like Caffirs, Hottentots, South Sea Islancler%
etc. Amongst these races it is successful; but in
India the Brahinans treat the discourses of the mis-
sionaries with contemptuous smiles of approbation, or
^^Ty^shr^g: their, shoulders. ArfH one may say
generally that the^^^^t^^: efforts^ of the inlssion-

spite of the most advantageous facil-
ities, are, as ^J^^^^^^^v, An authentic report in
Vol. XXI. (1826) states that

after so many years of missionary activity not more
than three hundred living converts were to be found
a, where the DOBulatioa of the

A DIALOGUE.

English possessions alon^ conies to one hundred and/
fifteen millions ; and at the same time it is admitted!
that the_Christian converts are distinguished for their]
extreme iinmpr^ity. Three hundred venal andVibed
souls out oTso many millions ! There is no evidence
that things have gone Better with Christianity in
India since thcn,in spite of the faet that the missionaries
are now trying, contrary to stipulation and in schools
exclusively designed for secular English instruction,
to work upon the children's minds as they please, in

order t 2J2S^^ 5 against which the;

Hindoos are most on tljeir g uar( j i

have said, childhood is the time to sow the seeds of//
kpli? a * Hl npf manhood ; more especially where an I
earlier faith lias taken root. An acquired 'conviction/
such as is feigned by adults is, as a rule, only the
mask for some kind of personal interest. And it is ,
the feeling that tins is almost bound to be the case,
which makes a man ...who .has. changed his religion in[
m ^?-- ye ^ rs a ?-.- ol) J ect of cpnjtomj)t' to '"most * people "
-<ff^wl^rq)( who thus show that" they look' upon/
religion, not as a matter of reasoned conviction, but
merely as a belief inoculated in childhood, before any
tost can bo applied. And that they are right in their
view of religion* is also obvious from the way in which
not only the masses, who are blindly credulous, but f x
also the clergy of every religion, who, as such, h.ave/(
faithfully and zealously studied its sources, founda-/ I
tions, dogmas and disputed points, cleave as a body ;
to the religion of their particular country; conse-j
quontly for a minister of one religion or confession to I
go over to another is the rarest thing in the world. 1

The Catholic clergy, for example, are fully convinced
of tlieTrutFof all. the tenets of their Church, and so
are the Protestant clergy of theirs, and both defend
the princij^eTortheir creeds with like zeal. And yet
the conviction is governed merely by the country
native to each ; to the South German ecclesiastic the
truth of the Catholic dogma is quite obvious, to the
orth German, -the Protestant. If, then, these con-
ictions are based on objective reasons, the reasons
.-ust be climatjc, and thrive, like plants, some only
ere, some only there. The convictions of those who
,re thus locally convinced are taken on trust and
believed by the masses everywhere.

Demopheles. Well, no harm is clone, and it doesn't
make any real difference. As a fact, Protestantism i?
more suited to*the north, Catholicism to the south.

Philalethes. So it seems. Still I_take_a higher
stand^omt, and keep in view a more important
object, thejsrogiresis, narn-ety, of the knowledgejof
b among mankind. And from this point of view,
is a terrible thing that, wherever a man is born.*

^--jSHV"* . *; . ... .

certain propositions are inculcated in him m earliest
TOuth, and he is assured that he may never have any
doubts about them, under penalty of thereby forfeit-
ing eternal salvation ; propositions, J^ mean, which
affect the foundation of all our other knowledge and
accordingly determine for ever, and, if they are false,
distort for ever, the point of view from which our
knowledge starts ; and as, further, the corollaries of
these propositions touch the entire system o our
intellectual attainments at every point, the whole of

adulterated by them,

A DIALOGUE. -.

Evidence of this is afforded by every literate ,
most striking by that of the Middle Le bft ' f

..-, everything which went beyond^the ^mSf
obvurn, causa nexus was inunediat/y set ZT

other matter, is known . Vu "oi? S^
pression to the general way of thinkin/ c " '

ordinary mind i

:-' ' I

12

MLIGlOtf :

The efforts of the ordinary man are generally found
to be directed to a careful exhibition of the in-
congruity of its dogmas with those o his own belief:
he is at great pains to show that not only do they
not say, but certainly do not mean, the same thing ;
i and with that he thinks, in his simplicity, that he has
' demonstrated the falsehood of the alien creed. ] He
1 really never dreams of putting the question which of
the two may be right; his own articles of belief he
looks upon as d priori true and certain principles.

Demopheles. So that's your higher point of view !
I assure you' there is a higher still. First live, then
P^losophise is a maxim of more comprehensive import
than appears at first sight. The first thing to do is
to control the raw and evil dispositions of the masses,
so as to keep them from pushing injustice to extremes,
and from committing cruel, violent and disgraceful
acts. If you were to wait until they had recognised
and grasped the truth, you would undoubtedly eorao
too late ; and truth, supposing that it had been found,
would surpass their powers of comprehension, J&
any case an allegorical investiture of it, a parable or
myth, is all that would be of any service to them.
As Kant said, there must be a public standard of
Right and Virtue ; it must always flutter high over-
head. It is a matter of indifference what heraldic
figures are inscribed on it, so long as they signify
what is meant. Such an allegorical representation of
truth s f is , always jwid ery where, ^ for humanity $t
substitute for.,a, toith^to which
attain, for a philosophy which it can
; let alone the fact that it is daily chang-

A DIALOGUE 13

ing its shape, and has in no form as yet met with
general acceptance. Practical aims, then, rny good '
Philalethes, are in every Tespect superior to theor- j
ctical. '

Philalethes. What you say is very like the ancient
advice o Tirnams of Locrus, the Pythagorean, stop
the mind with falsehood if you can't speed it with
truth. I almost suspect that your plan is the one
which is so much in vogue just now, that you want to
impress upon us that

The hour is nigli
When wo may feast in quiet.

You recommend us, in fact, to take timely precau-
tions, so that the waves of the discontented raging
masses mayn't disturb us at table. But the whole
point of view is as false as it is now-a-days popular
and commended ; and so I make haste to enter a
protest against it. I t_wj^^. that ^ state, j\istice 1 .J^
cfyaaot bo upheld wHHnl^^

mid its dogmas ; and that justice and publi<r"Sr3er
need religion as a necessary complement, if legislative
enactments are to be carried out." It is false, were it
repeated a hundred times! An effective and striking
argument to the*eontrary is afforded by the^ancients,
especially the Greeks. They had nothing at all of j
what we understand by religion. They had no sacred /
documents, no dogma to be learned and its acceptance i
furthered by everyone, its principles to be inculcated (
early on the young. Just as little was moral doctrine /
preached by the ministers of religion, nor did the
priests trouble themselves about morality or about 1

BELIGIOtf :

what the people did or left undone. Not at all. The
duty of the priests was confined to temple-ceremonial,
1 prayers, hymns, sacrifices, processions, lustrations and
the like, the object of which was anything but the
Amoral improvement of the individual. What was
| called religion consisted, more especially in the
\pities, in giving temples here and there to some of the
gods of the greater tribes, in which the worship
jdescribed was carried on as a state matter, and was
"consequently, in fact, an affair of police. No one,
except the functionaries -performing, was in any way
compelled to attend, or even to believe in it. In the
whde^of antiquity there is no trace of any obligation
to believe in any particular^ dogma. Merely "in the
case of an open denial of the existence of the gods, or
any other reviling of them, a penalty was imposed,
and that on account of the insult offered to the state,
which served those gods : beyond this it was free to
everyone to think of them what he pleased. If any-
one wanted to gain the favour of those gods privately,
by prayer or sacrifice, it was open to him to do so ^b
his own expense and at his own risk ; if he didn't do
^ it, no one made any objection, least of all the state,
it the case of the 'JBomgns everyone had Ms own
Lares and Penates at home ; these Were, however, in
reality, only the venerated busts ^f^ancestors. Of
the immortality oF^e^ouT^nH^ life beyond the
, grave, the ancieg^* had no firm, clear or, least of all,
dogmatically fixed idea, but very loose, fluctuating,
indefinite and problematical notions, everyone in his
own way : and the ideas about the gods were just as
varying, individual and vague. There was therefore^

''* ^

\* t

"*

A DIALOGUE, 15

_ wliffion, in our sense of the word, amongst

% T i^^^ But did anarchy and lawlessness pre-
vail amongst them on that account ? Is not law arid
civil order, rather, so much their work, that it still
forms the foundation of our own ? Was there not
complete protection for property, even though it con-
sisted for the most part of slaves ? And did not this
state of things last for more than a thousand years ?
So that 1 can't recognise, I must even protest against
the practical aims and the necessity of religion in the
sense indicated by you, and so popular now-a-days,
that is, as an indispensable foundation of all legislative
arrangements. For, if y ou take that point of view,
the pure and sacred endeavour after truth will!
to say the least, appear quixotic, and even criminal, if
it ventures, in its feeling of justice, to denounce the
authoritative creed as a usurper who has taken
possession of the throne of truth and maintained his
position by keeping up the deception.

Demopheles. But religion is not opposed to truth, ;
^? e !l tea 5 lles tru *! L "Andas'the rang of its activity
is not^a narrow lecture room, but the world and
humanity at large, religion must conform to the re-
quirements and comprehension of an audience so
numerous and sonixed;

it must not but^ must employ a mythi-

cal vehicle, 8 w*/^;,-. * ZL .''.' " "*"****"

compare truth in this respecFto certain chemical stuffs
which in themselves are gaseous, but which for
medicinal uses, as also for preservation or transmis-
sion, must be bound to a stable, solid base, because

16

HELIGIOX :

they would otherwise volatilise Chlonne g as for
example, is for all purposes applied on y in the lorn
of chlorides. But if truth, pure, abstract and hee
from all mythical alloy, is always to remain unattam-
able, even by philosophers, it might bo compared to
fluorine, which cannot even bo isolated, but must
always appear in combination with other elements.
Or to take a less scientific simile, truth, which us
inexpressible except by means of myth and allegory,
like water, which can be carried about only., m
vess^fTphilosopher who insists on obtaining it
pureiTlike a man who breaks the jug in order to get
the water by itself. This is, perhaps, an exact
analogy. At any rate, rejjgionjartroth allcgorica ly
and mythically eKpreggTandso rendered attainable
- in general. Mankind

anu. cLigcBULUJ-o wj ****.***" - Q~
couldn't possibly take it pure and unmixed, just as wo
can't breathe pure oxygen ; we require an addition of
four times its bulk in nitrogen. In plain language,
/ t h_profound_^eaiiing, the high aim of life, can only

because they~arc' "incapable of grasping itm Untrue

signification. Philosophy, on the other hand, should

be like the Eleusinian mysteries, for the few, tho (ttite.

Philalethes. I understand. It cc*nes, in short, to

truth wearing the garment of falseliQod.f But in do-

inJiolTiml^onVfateraTI3S^ What a dangerous

weapon is put into the hands of those who arc

authorised to employ falsehood as the vehicle of truth I

If it is as you say, I fear the damage causal by the

falsehood will be greater than any advantage the

truth could ever produce. Of cpursejf the j 1 '"'""

A DIALOGUE. 17

were admitted to be such, I should raise no objection ;
but with THe admission it would rob itself of all
respect, and consequently, of all utility. The allegory
imS^bherefore, put in a claim to be true in the
proper sense of the word, and maintain the claim ;
while, at the most, it is true only in an allegorical
sense. Here lies the irreparable mischief, the perma-
nent evil ; and this is why religion has always been
and will always be in conflict with the noble endea-
vour after pure truth.

Demopheles. Oh no ! that danger is guarded against.
If religion mayn't exactly confess its allegorical
nature, it gives sufficient indication of it.

Philalethes. How so ?

Demopheles. In its mysteries. "Mystery/ 5 is ini
reality only a ted^ai theological term'tor religious |
allegory. All religions have their mysteries. Pro
perly speaking, a mysteiy is a dogma which is plainl^
absurd, but which, nevertheless, conceals in itself a
lofty truth, and one which by itself would be com-
pletely incomprehensible to the ordinary understand-
ing of the raw multitude. The multitude accept^ it
in^is^disguise on trust, and believes it, without being
led astray by the absurdity of it, which even to its^
intelligence is obvious ; and in this way it participates^
in the kernel of the matter so far as it is possible for
it to do so. To explain what I mean, I may add that
6 3 n ^^ an^^attempt has been made to

make use of a mystery. Pag|il, for example, wKo
was at once a pietist, a mathematician, and a philo-
sopher, says in this threefold capacity : God is every-
where centre and nowhere periphery. Malebranche

18

RELIGION :

-ft

has also the just remark : Liberty is a mystery. One
could go a step further and maintain that in religions
everything is mystery. For to impart truth, in the
proper sense of the word, to the multitude in its raw
state is aBsolute^ ; all that can fall to its

"lot is to be enlightened by a mythological reflection of
it. Naked truth is out of placejbefore the eyes of the

ofai^Tulgar ; it can only make its appearance tfefekly..
veiled. Hence, il is unreasonable to require of a
religion that it shall be true in the proper sense of the
word ; and this, I may observe in passing, is now-a-
days the absurd contention of Eationalists and
Supernaturalists alike. Both start from the position
that religion must be the real truth ; and while the
former demonstrate that it is not the truth, the latter
obstinately maintain that it is ; or rather, the former
dress up and arrange the allegorical element in such
a way, that, in the proper sense of the word, it could
be true, but would be, in that case, a platitude ; while
the latter wish to maintain that it is true in the
proper sense of the word, without any further dressing ;
a belief, which, as we ought to know, is only to bo
enforced by inquisitions and the stake. As a fact,
however, mjjh and alleg,9jy rea ^Ji form tho proper
eleDagj^QJ^religion ; and under thin indispensable con-
dition, which is imposed by the intellectual limitation
of the multitude, religion provides a sufficient satisfac-
tion for those metaphysical requirements of mankind
which are indestructible. It takes the place of that
pure philosophical truth which is infinitely difficult
and perhaps never attainable.

Philalethes. Ah I just as a wooden le^ takes the

A DIALOGUE.

19

place of a natural one ; it supplies what Is lacking
barely does duty for it, claims to be regarded as a
natural leg, and is more or less artfully put together.
The only difference is that, whilst a natural leg as a
rule preceded the wooden one, religion has everywhere
got the start of philosophy.

Damopheles. That may be, but still for a man who
hasn't a natural leg, a wooden one is of great service,
You must bear in mind that the metaphysical needs
of mankind absolutely require satisfaction, because
the horizon of man's thoughts must have a back-
ground and not remain unbounded. Man^a^ as a
rule, no faculty for weighing reasons and discriminat-
ing between what is false and ^ /^at .j^Jjrue ; and
Besides,"" llie "labour which nature and the needs of
nature impose upon him, leaves him no time for such
inquiries, or for the education which they presuppose.
In his case, therefore, it^ is no use talking of a
reasoned conviction ; he has to fall back on belief and
authority. If ^JiJ^^^

" ; that is to say,

to receive it on

^^ malter of faith, for Plato's dictum,
that" the mulj^tuge always!

remain true. Authority, ho we ver,is an affair of time and
circumstance^aloneT^d so
'

^ ^

whichli'as only reason inJ&S ..... favour ; it must accord-
ingly be allowed to nothing but what has acquired il
in the course of history, even if it is only an allegori-
cal representation of truth. Truth in this form,
supported by authority, appeals first of all to those
elements in the human constitution which are strict!?

_

RELIGION :

metaphysical, that is to say, to the need man feels oa
theory in regard to the riddle of existence which

.forces itself upon his noticlva B^pC &nsmg from the
! consciousness that behind the physical in the world
: there is a metaphysical, something permanent as the
foundation "of" "constant change. ' Then " ;: it 'appeals to
the wip, to the fears and hopes of mortal beings living
in constant struggle ; for whom, accordingly, religion
creates gods and demons whom they can cry to,
appease and win over. Mnally, it appeals to that
} moral consciousness which is undeniably present in
man, lends to it that corroboration and support with- -
out which it would not easily maintain itself in the
I struggle against so many temptations. It is just from
" this side that religion affords cm inexhaustible source
of consolation and comfort in the innumerable trials of
ife, a comfort which does not leave men in death,
Jut rather then only unfolds its full efficacy. So
eligion may be compared to one who takes a blind
man by the hand and leads him, because he is unable
to see for himself, whose concern it is to reach
his destination, not to look at everything by the

fway.

Philalcthes. That is certainly the strong point of
religion. If it is a fraud, it is a pious fraud ; that is
undeniable. But this makes priests something between
deceivers and teachers of morality : they daren't teach
the real truth, as you have quite rightly explained,
even if they knew it, which is not the case. A true
philosophy, then, can always exist, but not a true
religion ; true, I mean, in the proper understanding of
the word, not rnei'ely in that flowery dr allegorical

\

A DIALOGUE.

21

sense which you have described ; a sense in which all
religions would be true, only in various degrees. It is
quite in keeping with the inextricable mixture of weal
and woe, honesty and deceit, good and evil, nobility
and baseness, which is the average characteristic of
the world everywhere, that the most important, the
most lofty, the most sacred truths can make their ap-
pearance only in combination with a lie, can even
borrow strength from a lie as from something that
works more powerfully on mankind ; and, as revela-
tion, must be ushered in by a lie. This might indeed
6e regarded as the cachet of tlie/moral world. How->
ever, we won'fc give up the hope that mankind will
eventually reach a point of maturity and education at
which it can on the one side produce, and on the other
receive, the true philosophy. Simplex sigillum veri :
the naked truth must be so simple and intelligible
that it can be imparted to all in its true form, without
any admixture of myth and fable, without disguising^
it in the form of religion. *. * u '*''

"" Demopheles. You've no notion how stupid most
people are.

Philalethes. I am only expressing a hope which I
can't give up. If it were fulfilled, truth in its simple
and intelligible form would of course driy-Q religion
from the place it has so long "occupied as its repre-
sentative, and by that very means kept open for it.
The ""tTme would have come when religion would have
carried out her object and completed her course : the
race she had brought to years of discretion she could
dismiss, and herself depart in peace : that would be
the euthanasia of religion. But as long as she lives,

i

p

fe

r

1

22 RELIGION :

she has two faces, one of truth, one of fraud. Accord-

*'W" .:., ''"'. ' ' ' ":"

ing as you look at one or the other, you will bear her
favour or ill-will. Religion must be regarded as a
necessary evil, its necessity resting on the pitiful im-
becility of the great)* majority of mankind, incapable
of grasping the truth, and therefore requiring, in its
pressing need, something to take its place.

Demopheles. Really, one would think that you phil-
osophers had truth in a cupboard, and that all you
had to do was to go and get it !

Philalethes. Well, if we haven't got it, it is chiefly

owing to the pressure put upon philosophy by religion.

at all times and in all places. People have tried to

.( make the expression and communication of truth,

"even the contemplation and discovery of it, impossible,

/by putting children, in their earliest years, into the

1 hands of priests to be manipulated ; to have the lines

' in which their fundamental thoughts are henceforth

to run, laid down with such firmness as, in essential

matters, to be fixed and determined for this whole life.

When I take up the writings even of the best intellects

of l the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, (more es-^

pecially if I have been engaged in Oriental ...studies), 1

^am sometimes shocked to see how th^' a^eparalvpd

' c&n ~ j^

| prepared .like this ?

!. Demopheles. Even if the true philosophy were to
f ^be discovered, religion wouldn't disappear from the
J, world, as you seem to think. 'Therejjaa^^
I S 7 stem of ^eteph^sics for everybody : that's rStiTlored

1 . <*a*siii*^^ *j***w ., .,,.*'*" r * Mfifaff^<^ %f% /rffcjvsv.j

'

Jiinpos^E[e"'^^he natural differences cf^^ollocfcaal

V * 14

. V '

A DIALOGUE.

23

power between man and man, and the differences, to
winch education makes. It is a necessity for tUel
great raajorlly of mankind to engage in that severe
bodily labour which cannot be dispensed with if the
ceaseless requirements of the whole race are to be
satisfied. Not only does this leave the majority no
time for education, for learning, for contemplation;
but by virtue of the hard and fast antagonism be-
tween muscles and mind, the intelligence is blunted
by so much exhausting bodily labour, and becomes
heavy, clumsy, awkward and consequently incapable
of grasping any other than quite simple situations.
At least nine- tenths of the human race falls under this
category. Bi^t still people require a system of meta-f
physics, thSE is, an account of the world and CUB*
existence, because such an account belongs to the most;
natural needs of mankind, they require a jDopijlai' 1
system ; and to be popular it must combine many
rare qualities. It must be easily understood, and at
the same time possess, on the proper points, a certain
amount of obscurity, even of impenetrability ; then a
* correct and satisfactory system of morality must be
bound up with its dogmas ; above all, it must afford /
inexhaustible consolation in suffering and death; thef'
consequence of^all this is, that it can only be true in \
ar^. allegorical and not in a real {sense. Further, it I
must have the support of an autjiojity which is*
impreBsive by its great jage^ by bSung universally/
recognised, by its documents, their tone and utterances;
qualities which are so extremely , Difficult to combine f
that many a man wouldn't be so ruoAy, if lie con- $
^idered the matter, to help to undermine a religion,' \

i

II B *- * ' ''"'" ' ' ' ' ' " -'""

1 man opinion on religion, you should always bear in
mind the character of the great multitude for which
it is destined, and form a picture to yourself of ite
complete inferiority, moral and intellectual. It is
I incredible how far this inferiority goes, and how
Iperseveringly a spark of truth will glimmer on even
Sunder the crudest covering of monstrous fable or
"grotesque ceremony, clinging indestructibly, like the
odour of musk, to everything that has once come into
contact with it. In illustration of this, consider, the
, profound wisdom of the Ug^^fi^, &&d then look at
the j^^ a ^^^y IB tnelndia of to-day, with its
pilgrimages, processions and festivities, or at the
insane and ridiculous goings-on of the Sapi^i. Still
one can't denjjihat in all this insanity and nonsense
thereTTes some efeg^ e purpose which accords with,

I mentioned.

put for^tj^'^multitude, it h^s to be dressed up
IiTsucKT'^cbntrast a^TluFwo liavo'

humanity, the wisdom of the individual
aH ffie bo^|^ity of" the many, both of which fina
jtheir point of contact in th^ DMjjTal spliore. That
saying from the KurraFmust everybody,

Base people look like men, lut I have never seen their
exact counterpart. The man of education may, all
the same, interpret religion to himself cum grano
salis; the man of learning, the contemplative spirit
may secretly exchange it for a philosophy. But here
again <yf^> philosophy i^Qiildn't suit everybody ; by
the laws of affinity every system woulcT (Jraw to itself

i

physical system, or the schools tor the educated
multitude, and a higher one for the &Ate. Kant's
lofty doctrine, for instance, had to be degraded to the
level of the schools and ruined by such men as Fries,
Krug and Salat. In short, here, if anywhere, Goethe's
maxim is true, One does not ( suit all. Pure faith in
revelation and \rnre metaphysics are for the two
extremes, and for the intermediate steps mutual
modifications of both in innumerable combinations
and gradations. And this is rendered necessary by
the immeasurable differences which nature and educa-j
tion have placed between man and man.

P/dlalethes. The view you take reminds me seriously
of the rnv^ri^s^tho ancients, which you mentioned
just m)M^** 1 Wieir fundamental purpose seems to have
been to remedy the evil arising from the ..difiBttCfittfifis
of intellectual capacity and eduction. The plan was,
out of the great multitude utterly impervious to
unveiled truth, to select certain persons who might
have it revealed to them up to a given point ; out of
these, again, to choose others to whom more would be
revealed, as being able to grasp more ; and so on up to
the Epopts. These grades corresponded to the little,
greater and greatest mysteries. The arrangement
was founded on a correct estimate of the intellectual
inequality of mankind,

Dewioplwles. To some extent the education in our
j lower, middle and high schools corresponds to the
V^xy ing grad ^^^fflJM^ifiA into^the mysteries.

fkilalethes, In a veryT^^^imoXST^^ ] a&d then

I

1

1 i

26 RELIGION: |y t> , v .'- .

only in so far as subjects of higher knowledge, are
written about exclusively in Latin. But since that has
ceased to be the case, all the mysteries are profaned.

Demoplieles. However that may be, I wanted to
remind you that you should look at religion more from
the practical than from the theoretical side. Personi-
fied 1 metaphysics may be the enemy of religion, but
all the same personified morality will be its friend.
,Pr}japs the metaphysical element 'in all religions &
]fafs^"J)ut the" juoral element in all is true. This
fmight 'perhaps be presumed from the fact that they
: ,all disagree in their metaphysics, but are in accord an
/regards morality.

~^~ PTiilaletlies. Which is an illustration of the rule of
logic that false premises may give a true conclusion.

Demopheles. Let me hold you to your conclusion :
let me remind you that religion has two sides. If it
can't stand when looked at from its theoretical, that
is, its intellectual side ; on the other hand, from the
moral side, it proves itself the only means of guiding,
ccSlrofling and mollifying those races of animals en-
dowed with reason, whose kinship with the ape docs
not exclude a kinship with the tiger But at the
same time gHgjraJs^as a rule, a sufficient satisEagJiari
for their dull metaphysical necessities. You don't
seem to me to possess a proper idea of the difference,
wide as the heavens asunder, the deep gulf between
your man of learning and enlightenment, accustomed
jto the process of thinking, and the heavy, clumsy,
| dull and sluggish consciousness of humanity's boasts
* of Burden, whose thoughts have once and for all taken
the direction of anxiety about their livelihood, and

LL

A DIALOGUE.

27

cannot be put in motion in ary other ; whose muscular
strength is so exclusively brought into play that the
nervous power, which makes intelligence, sinks to a
very low ebb. People like that must have something
'tangible which they can lay bold of on the slipperj
and thorny pathway of their life, some sort of beauti
f ul fable, by means of which things can be impartec
"to them which their crude intelligence can entertait
only in picture and parable. Profound explanation;
and fine distinctions are thrown away upon them, ij
you conceive religion in this light, and recollect tha
its aims are above all practical, and only in a!
subordinate degree theoretical, it will appear to youf
as something worthy of thjB.^hjghe^tjresjpect.

Phil ulethes. A respect which will finally rest upon
the principle that the end sanctifies the means. I
don't feel in favour of a compi i oinise_ on a basis like
that. Religion may be an excellent means of taming
and training the perverse, obtuse and ill-disposed *
members of the biped race : in the eyes of the friend
of truth every fraud, even though it be a pious one, is!
to be condemned. A system of deception", a* pack oc
lies, would be a strange means of inculcating virtu e.l|
The flag to which I have taken the oath is truth : I
shall remain faithful to it everywhere, and whether I
succeed or not, I shall fight for light and truth ! If I
see religion on the wrong side

Demophelea. But you won't. IMimpn isn't a -dc^
cegtion; it is truo_and_the most important of all
truths. Because its doctrines are, as 1 Iiavo said, of
such ajx)ftjr_kind that the multitude can't grasp them
without "'ttff intermediary; "because, T say, its light

u

h

28

RELIGION :

H
i

would blind the ordinary eye, it comes forward wrapt
injhe veil of allegory and teaches, not indeed what is
exactly true in itself, but what is true in respect of
the lofty meaning contained in it ; and, understood in
l'this way, religion is the truth.

Philaletkes. It would be all right if religion were
only at liberty to be true in a merely allegorical sensc^
But its contention is that it is downright true in the
proper sense of the word. Herein lies the deception,
and it is here that the friend of truth must take up a
hostile position.

I Demopheles. This deception is a sme qua non. If
, religion were to admit that it was only the allegorical
' meaning in its doctrines which was true, it would rob
itself of all efficacy. Such rigorous treatment as
this would destroy its invaluable influence on the
, hearts and morals of mankind. Instead of insisting
on that with pedantic obstinacy, look at its great
Achievements in the practical sphere, its furtherance
T^nuJly feelings, its guidance in conduct,

thesuggo^a^cL .consolation it gives to suffering
humanity in life and JteatjC ""How much you ought
to g U ^^~^jgYletting theoretical cavils discredit in
the eyes of the multitude, and finally wrest from it,
something which is an inexhaustilj.e source of conso-
lation and tranquillity, something which, in its hard
Jot, it needs so much, even more than we do. On that

^core alone, religion should be free from attack.

-~, ., , .,

\ | have driven Luther from the field, when he attacked
> \ the sale of indulgences. How many a man got conso-
f j^tion from the letters of indulgence, a consolation

>V"

A DIALOGUE.

29

which nothing else could give, a complete tranquillity;
so that he joyfully departed with the fullest confi-
dence in the packet of them which he held in his
hand at the hour of death, convinced that they were
so many cards of admission to all the nine heavens.
What is the use of grounds of consolation and tran-
quillity which are constantly overshadowed by the
Damocles-sword of illusion ? The_ truth, my dear]
sir, is the only safe thing; the trutir alone remains!!
steadfast and trusty ; it is the only solid consolation /
it is the indestructible diamond.

Demopheles. Yes, if you had truth in your pocket,
ready to favour us with it on demand. All you've
got are metaphysical systems, in which nothing is
certain but the headaches they cost. Before you take
anytlnng away, you must have

That's what you keep on saying. To
free a man from error is to give, not to take away.
Knowledge jbhat a thing is false is a truth. Error
always does harm : sooner or later it will bring mis-
chief to the man who harbours it. Then gwejup de-
ceiving people ; confess ignorance of what you don't
know, and leave everyone to form his own articles of
Perhaps they won'tTurti out

i h

t I ,'

batT, especially as they'll rub one another's corners
down, and mutually rectify mistakes. The existence
of many views will at any rate lay a foundation of
tolerance. Those who possess knowledge and capacity
may betake themselves to the study of philosophy, or
even in their own persons carry the history of philof
sophy a step further.

r

30

RELIGION :

DemopJieles. That'll be a pretty business ! A whole
nation of raw metaphysicians, wrangling and eventu-
ally coming to blows with one another !

Philalethes. Well, well, a few blows here and there -

are the sauce of life ; or at any rate a very incon-

siderable evil, compared with such things as priestly

I dominion, plundering of the laity, persecution of

\ heretics, courts of inquisition, crusades, religious wars,

? massacres of Sfe. Bartholomew. These have been the

results of popular metaphysics imposed from without ;

so I stick to the old saying that you can't get grapes

from thistles, nor expect good to come from a pack of lies.

DemopJieles. How often must I repeat that religion

is anything but a pack of lies ? It is^nrtlii^^^^r

BufT when you

I spoke of your plan of everyone being his own founder
j of religion, I wanted to say that a particularism like
] this is totally opposed to human nature, and would
I consequently destroy all social order. Man is a meta-
Pj^sical animal, that is to say, he has paramounli
metaphysical necessities ; accordingly, he conceives
life above all in its metaphysical significance and
wishes to Bring everything into line with that. Con-
sequently, however strange it may^sound in view of
i the uncertainty of all dogmas, ajj^ment

a

genuine and lasting bond of union is only possible
among those who are of one opinion on these points.
As a result of this, the main point .of likeness and of
contrast between nations is rather religion than

1 government, or even language; and soj>h^
solely, tn ^ State, will stand firm only when founded

ir

A DIALOGUE. 31

on a system of metaphysics which is acknowledged by
all. This, o course, can only be a populaj^^stem, ?
that is, a religion: it becomes part "and parcel o the j
conMifuit^m the .State, of all the public manif esta- {
tions of the national life, and also of all solemn acts of c
individuals. This was the case in ancient^In^a,

among the PgJS^?, 5ZE*J^

Romans: it is still the case in the/ljjjato
aflT^bammedap nations. In China there are three
faiths? "it is true, of which the most prevalent-
Buddhism is precisely the ona which is not pro-
tected by the State : still, there is a saying in China,
universally acknowledged, and of claity application, , /
that " the three faiths are only one/' that is to sayyf
they agree in essentials. The Emperor confesses all
three^Together 'a^S^me time. And Europe is the
union of Christian States : Cliristiamjty is the basis of
everyone of the members, and the common bond of all.
Hence Turkey, though geographically in Europe, is
not properly to be reckoned as belonging to it. In
the same way, the European princes hold their place
" bv tho grace of God : " and the Pope is the vicegerent

J " ^*-"'*t.,, ... T 1 I

of God. Accordingly, as his throne was the highest,
he used to wish all thrones to be regarded as held in
fee from him. fn the same way,* too, Archbishops
and Bishops, as such, possessed temporal power ; and
in England they still have seats and votes in the
Upper House. Protestant princes, as such, are heads -
of their churches : in England, a few years ago, this V ?
was a girl eighteen years old. By the revolt from the W
Pope, the Reformation shattered the European fabricj/
and in a^eciall degree dissolved . the true unity e||'
^

RELIGION :

Germany by destroying its common religious faith.
This union, which had practically come to an end, had,
accordingly, to be restored later on by artificial and
^purely political means. You see, then, how closely
connected a common. .faith is with the social order and
ti^Atev^j^ State. Faith is everywhere
the support of the laws and* the constitution, the
foundation, therefore, of the social fabric, which coulcl
hardly hold together at all if religion did not lend
weight to the authority of government and the dignity
of the ruler.

PTiilalefhes. Oh, yes, princes use God as a kind of
bogey to frighten grown-up children to bed with, if
nothing else avails : that's why they attach so much
importance to the Deity. Very well. Let me, in
passing, recommend our rulers to give their serious
attention, regularly twice every year, to the fifteenth
chapter of the First Book of Samuel, that they may
be constantly reminded of what it means to prop the
throne on the altar. Besides, since the stake, that \
ultima ratio theologorwn, has gone out of fashio%|
this method of government has lost its efficacy. For,
you know, religions are like glow-worms j they

only when it's dark. A certain '""amount of

m ^ v ' """* * * * * " "*" " - . . .....

il ignorance is the condition of%ll religions, the
t^m which^alone^thej can exist. And as soon
as astronomy, natural science, geology, history, the
knowledge of countries and peoples have spread their
light broadcast, and philosophy finally is permitted to
say a word, Q ^L^^ n mirl^ and

an( 3 phiosopfffalces ' Its
In 'Europe the day of knowledge and science

w \

A DIALOGUE.

33

. dawned towards the end of the fifteenth century with
the appearance of the Renaissance Ratonists : its
sun rose liigher in tKe sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries so rich in results, and scattered the mists of
the Middle Age. Church and Faith were compelled
to disappear in the same proportion ; and so in the
eighteenth cen tury English and French philosophers
were able* to take up an attitude of, direct hostility;
until, finally, under Frederick the Great,
peared, and took. away from ^ religious the

support it had previously^ enjoyed from philosophy :
he emancipate^ "the handmaid of theology, and in
attacking the question with German thoroughness
and patience, gave it an earnest instead of a frivolous
tone. The corisecfuence of this is that we see Ch
tjanityundermined in the nineteenth century, ajerious

-h

llj

m gone ;

evenTTor Ibara existence, whilst anxious princes try to
seJTfup a little by artificial means, as a doctor uses a
drug on a dying patient. In this connection there
a* passage in Qcsdajget's " Des Progres de Vesprif
humain" 'which looks as if written as a warning to
our age: "the religious zeal shown by philosophers
and^.greafc men was only a j^^^^l devotion' and
every religion which allows itsditobe defended^as a
belief that may usefully be left to the people, can only
hope for an agony more or less prolonged/' In the
whole course of the events which I have indicated, you
may always observe that Jajpi &&d k&owjedg
related as the two scales of a, balance; when the one

balance that it indicates momentary influences. When,

C

*

f '

EELIGION :

for instance, at the beginning of this century, those
inroads of [French rpb^rg^jinder^the^ leadei^hj|)^of
Buonaparte, and the enormous efforts necessary for
driving 'them out and punishing them, had brought
about a tei^orarjr j^ and consequently

a certain decline in the general increase of knowledge,
the Church immediately began to raise her head again
and Faith be^anjo ijhow fresh signjjf life; which, to
be sure, in keeping with the times, was partly poetical
in its nature. On the other hand, in the more than
thirty fc jears of peace which followed, leisure and
prosperity furthered the, .building up of science and the
spread of knowledge in an extraordinary degree : the
consequence of which is what I have indicated, the
dissolution and threatened fall of religion. Perhaps
the time is approaching which lias so often been
., when religion will take her departure
humanity, like a nurse whicfi the
child has out-grown : the child will now be given over
to the instructions of a tutor. For there is no doubt
that religious doctrines which are founded merely on

'***&**^frf*rf i l Ws , ' ' r "% mf *

afitncOTty, miracles and revelations, are only suited to
^ e ^JW^^^*^* humanity. Everyone will admit
that a race, the past duration of which on the earth
all accounts, physical and historical, agree in placing
art not more than some hundred times the life of a
man of sixty, is as yet only in its first childhood.

Demopheles. Instead of taking an undisguised
pleasure in prophesying the downfall of Christianity,
f how I wish you would consider J^^^^^ea^'or^^s
[debt of gratitude .T^^^^^^m^^ye^^^^w

J

j

A DIALOGUE. 35

long interval, followed it from its old home in the
East. Europe received from Christianity ideas which.
were quite new to it, the knowledge, I mean, , of th

/undame^ ^B 11 ^ ^ e ^ n e ^ n ^ 3 ft:^ s

that the true end of^r^existence lies beyond It The
GJTg^-s ffiftd Romans had" placed This <5hk altogether in
our present life, so that in this sense they may eer-
tainly be called blind heathens. And, in keeping with
this view of life, all their virtues can be reduced to
what is serviceable to the community, to what is use-
ful, in fact. Aristotle says ' quite naively, Those
virtues must necessarily "be the greatest which are the
f most useful to others. So the ancients though tf

I patriotism the highest virtue, although it is really a i

verjf^ubiful one, since narrowness, prejudice, vanity ji
and an enlightened self-interest are main elements in
it Just before the passage I quoted, j^^gtle
| enumerates all the virtues, in order to discuss them

t singly. They are Justice, Courage, Temperance,

(' Magnificence, Magnanimity, Liberality, Gentleness,

i Good Sense and Wisdom. How different from the

; Christian virtues ! Plajjgs himself, incomparably the

most transcendental, philosopher of pre-Christian
I antiquity, knows no higher virtue than Justice ; and

he alone recommends it unconditionally and for its ;
1, own sake, whereas the rest make a happy life, vita

beata, the aim of all virtue, and moral conduct the way
to attain it Christianity freed Europ^aoa.hHpianity
from this shallow, crude identification of .itself with
the hollow uncertain existence of every day,

- 1 coelumque tueri

Jussit, et ereotos ad sidera tollere vultus.

t

f

36 RELIGION:

Christianity, accordingly* does not preach meye .

Imi the Love of Mankind, Compassion, Good IfSrks,

f Mes'lgn^twn, Faitli and Hope. It even went a step
1 3 further, and taught that the world IB of evil, and that

Ve need deliverance. It preached d^sgisal^of. Jbhe
world, self-denial, chastity, giving up of one's own will,
that is, tijymu^

-pleasures. liTaug'ht the healing power of pain : an
instrument of torture is the symbol of Christianity.
:' |I am quite ready to admit that this earnest, this only
I ! correct view of life was thousands of years previously
p spread all over Asia in other forms, as it is still,
| independently of Christianity; but for European
^humanity it was a new and great ^revelation. For it
is well known that the population of Europe consists
of Asiatic races driven out as wanderers from their
own homes, and gradually settling down in Europe ;
on their wanderings these races lost the original
religion of their homes, and with it the right view of
life : so, under a new sky, they formed religions jbr
themselves, which were rather crude ; the worship of
Odin, for instance, the Druidic or the Greek religion,
the metaphysical content of which was little and
shallow* In the meantime the Greeks developed a
special, one might almost say, an instinctive sense of
beauty, belonging to them alone of all the nations who
have ever existed on the earth, peculiar, fine and ex-
act : BO that their mythology took,in the mouth of their
poets, and in the hands of their artists, an exceedingly
beautiful and pleasing shape. On thjeottLgr hand, the
true and deep significance of Ufa was lost to the

II
if

_,

A DIALOGUE.

Greeks and Bomans. They

e ^of , existence.

Philalethes. And to see the effects you need only
compare ajitlcisity with the Middle Age ; the time of
PerlcIesT say, with the fourteenW century. You
could scarcely believe you were dealing with the same
kind of beings. There, the finest development ot
humanity, excellent institutions, wise laws, shrewdly
apportioned offices, rationally ordered freedom, all the
arts, including poetry and philosophy, at their best ;
the production of works which, after thousands of
years, are unparalleled, the creations, as it were, of a
higher order of beings, which, we can never imitate ; /
lijej^bell^

trayed in Xon^^^s^Ban^uet. Look on the jQjJb%r
picture', if you can; a time at which the Chjj^had
enslaved the minds, and violence the bodies of men,
that knights and priests might lay the whole weight
of life upon the common beast of burden, the third
estate. There, you have might as right, FeudaH^nLl

and in their train!

abominable ignorance and darkness of mind,
corresponding intolera

a

; as the!

ofMlowship, chivalry, compounded of savagery?
and folly, with its pedantic system of ridiculous false
pretences carried to an extreme, its degrading super-
stition and apish veneration for women. Gallantry is
the residue of tnis veneration^ deservedly requited as
it is by feminine arrogance f it a

and the Greeks would

4

>

H

,
^'

d'amowr, bombastic Troubadour songs, etc. ;
although it is to be observed that these last*"
buffooneries, which had an intellectual side, were
chiefly at home in France ; whereas amongst the
material sluggish Germajis, the knights distinguished
themselves rather by drinking and stealing; they
were good at boozing and fiffingTESr r castles with
plunder ; though in the courts, to be sure, there was
lack of insipid love-songs. What caused this utter
r j transformation ? Migration and Christianity.

Demopheles. la^argi^^ me o f it.

the source of the evil ; Christianity
^^^^^^ It was chiefly by

Christianity that the raw, wild hordes which came
flooding in were controlled and tamed. The savage
man must first of all learn to kneel, to venerate, to
obey ; after that, he can be civilised. This was done
in Ireland by St. Patrick, in Germany by Winifried
the Saxon, who was a genuine Boniface. It was
migration of peoples, the last advance of Asiatiq races
towards Europe, followed only by the fruitless at-
tempts of those .under Attila, Genghis Khan, and
Timur, and as a comic afterpiece, by the JSEies, it
was this movement which swept away the humanity
of the ancients. Christianity was preciselv tlMLJ]rin-

ll! 1 * 1 " 1 **""" 1 "*^^

Iciple which set itself to work against this savagery ;

. -r-"^^ .

|the Church and its hierarchy were most necessary to
/set limits to the savage barbarism of those masters of

A DIALOGUE.

39

violence, the princes and knights : it was what broke
up the ice-floes in that mighty deluge. Still, the

is not so much to make this
life pleasant as to render us worthy of a "better. I-

* """ ll '' l ' lll ""'" lai ^^

looks away over this span of time, over this fleetin
dream, and seeks to lead us to eternal welfare. Its/
tendency is ethical in the highest sense of the word,!
a sense, unknown in Europe till its advent; as I have*,
shown you; by putting the morality and religion of j
the ancients side by side with those of Christendom. /
Philalethes. You are quite right as regards theory ;
biljt look at the practice.!^ In comparison with the
ages of Christianity the ancient world was juiaquestion-
ablj less cruel than the Middle Age, with its deaths
by exqttmte torture, its innumerable burnings at the
stake. The ancients, further, were verj^OTduring,
laid great stress on justice, frequently sacrificed them-
selves for their country, showed such traces of every
kind of magnanimity, and such genuinejnanliness, that
to this day ^^acquaintance witTi |J^ r thoughts and
actions is called the study of Humanity. The frats
of Christianity were re^^ou^jvars, .

.

sacles, itoguisifions, extermination of the natives in
imerica, and the introduction of African slaves in
their place ; and among the ancients there is nothing
analogous to this, nothing that can be compared with
it ; for the slaves of the ancients, the famiUa, the
vernce, were a contented race, and faithfully devoted
to their masters' service, and as different from the

which are

a HSgra^tohraoanity, as their two colours are dis-
tinct Those special moral delinquencies for which

l

r,

.K

be the case, are trifles compared with the Christian
1 enormities I have mentioned. Can you then, all con-
I sidered, maintain that mankind has been really made
jf morally better by Christianity ? | /,.

Demopheles. If the results haven't everywhere been

in keeping with the purity and troth of the doctrine,

it may be because the doctrine has been too noble,

itoo elevated for mankind, that its aim has beSoTpTacod

J^24i^ * ^UBM*.-** * *. t * , * '

It was so much easier to come up to the
I heathen system, or to the Mohammedan. It is pre-
cisely what is noble and dignified that is most liable
everywhere to misuse and fraud: abusws optimi pessi-
mus. Those high doctrines have accordingly now and
then served as a pretext for the most abominable pro-
ceedings, and for acts of unmitigated wickedness. The
downfall of the institutions of the old world, as well
as of its arts and sciences, is, as I have said, to be
attributed to the inroad of foreign barbarians. The

W*f*^%*>e* <&**<'**

inevitable result O f^5is mroad was that ignorance anc|^
savagery got the upper hand; consequently violence
and knavery established their dominion, and knights
and priests became a burden to mankind. It is partly,
however, to be explained by the fafcfc that th^^ew
ade eternal and not temporal welfare the
taught that simplicity of heart was

to be preferred to knowledge, and looked askance at
all worldly pleasure. Now the arts and sciences sub-
serve worldly pleasure ; but in so far as they could be
made serviceable to religion they were promoted, and
attained a certain degree of perfection.

10172-0

A DIALOGUE. 41

Philalethes. In a very narrow sphere. The sciences

were suspicious companions, and as such, were placed

' under restrictions : on the other hand, darling ignor-

^ ; -. 1 a,". - ^V - *^*^""' s - ., >'

.ance^that element so necessary to a system of faith, j/
was carefully nourished.

Demopheles. And yet mankind's possessions in the
way of knowledge up to that period, which were pre-
served in the writings of the ancients, were saved from
destruction by the clergy, especially by those in the
monasteries. How would it have fared if "Christianity
hadn't come in just before the migration of peoples ?

Philalethes. It would really be a most useful inquiry
to try and make, with the coldest impartiality, an
unprejudiced, careful and accurate comparison of the
advantages and disadvantages which may be put down
to religion. For that, of course, a much larger know-
ledge of historical and psychological data than either ,,,>
of us command would be necessary. Academies might /
make it a subject for a prize essay. , ,

Dewiopheles. They'll take good care not to do &o.
Philalethes. I'm surprised to hear you say that : it's
a^acl look out for religion. However, there are aca-
demies which, in proposing a subject for competition,
make it a secret condition that the prize is to go to ? .
the man who best interprets their own view If we ff
could only begin by getting a statistician to tell us J
how many crimes are prevented^ every jear by T$- f
IE^^TS3"Eow manylJy other motives, there Wold'*'
Wvery few of the former. If a man feels tempted,
to commit a crime, you may rely upon it that the
first consideration which enters his head is the pen- "
alty appointed for it, and the chances that it will fair

'V

'*,

^2\ * i RELIGION:

*'^W on ^ m : ^ en comes > as a secon( i consideration, the
risk to his reputation. If I am not mistaken, he will
V ruminate by the hour on these two impediments, bc-
f * fore he ever takes a thought of religious considera-
; tions. If he gets safely over those two first bulwarks
!;-'' against crime, I think religion alone will very rarely
/ -hold him back from it.

Demopheles. I think that it will very often do so,

especially when its influence works through the

medium of custom. An atrocious act is at onco felt

f 'to be repulsive. What is this but the effect of early

impressions ? Think, for instance, how often a man,

especially if of noble birth, will make tremendous

; sacrifices to perform what he has promised, motived

; entirely by the fact that his father has often earnestly

impressed upon him in his childhood that " a man of

honour " or "a gentleman " or "a cavalier" always keeps

his word inviolate.

Philalethes. That's no use unless there is a certain
inborja honourableness. You mustn't ascribe to re-
ligion what results from innate goodness of charactej*,
by which compassion for the man who would suffer
* by the crime keeps a man from committing it. ^This
is the genume jmoral 5 L .9.^Y. e i a ?4 ..9$ such it is incta-
pixdeat of all religions., *

Demopheles. But this is a motive which rarely
affects the multitude unless it assumes a religious
^aspect. Tjiejsligig]^^

its u .ppwer for good. Yet without any such HaMral
foundation, religious motives alone are powerful to
prevent crime. We need not be surprised at .this in
the case of -the multitude, whan we see that even

A DIALOGUE.

43

people of education pass now and then under the
influence, not indeed of religious motives, which are
founded on something which is at least allegorically
true, but of the most absurd superstition, and allow
themselves to be guided by it all their life long ; as,
for instance, undertaking nothing on a Friday, refus-
ing to sit down thirteen at table, obeying chance
omens, and the like. How much more likely is the
multitude to be guided by such things. You can't
form any adequate idea of the narrow limits of the
mind in its raw state ; it is a^ place of absolute dark-
ness, especially when, as often happens, a bad, unjust,
and malicious heart is at the bottom of it. People in I
this condition and they form the great bulk of ;
humanity must be led and controlled as well as may |
be, even if it be by really superstitious motives; until!
such time as they become susceptible to truer and!
better ones. As an instance of the direct working of 1
religion, may be cited the fact, common enough, in
Italy especially, of a thief restoring stolen goods,
jjhrough the influence of his confessor, who says he
won't absolve him if he doesn't. Think again of the
cas<\of an o^h, where religion shows a most decided "
injluejac$; wnether it be that a man places himself
expressly in the position of a purely moral being, and
as such looks upon himself as solemnly appealed to,
as seems to be the case in France, where the formula
is simply j/ rl le jwe, and also among the Quakers,
whose solemn yea or nay is regarded as a substitute
for the oath; or whether it be that a man really
believes he is pronouncing something which may
affect his eternal happiness, a belief which is pre-

&ELIGION :

sumably only the investiture of the former feeling.

At am r jjtte, religious considerations are^ajnieans^of

nature. How

n

that a man agrees to take a false
oath ; and then, when it comes to the point, suddenly
refuses, and truth and right win the day.

Philalethes. Oftener still false oaths are really
taken, and truth and right trampled under foot,
though all witnesses of the oath know it well ! Still
jyou are quite right to quote the oath as an undeniable
/ example of the practical efficacy of religion. But, in
/ spite of all you've said, I doubt whether the efficacy
of religion goes much beyond this. Just think ; if a
/ public proclamation were suddenly macfef announcing
/ the repeal of all the criminal laws ; I fancy neither
i you nor I would have the courage to go home from
j here under the protection of religious motives. If, in
1 the same way, all religions were declared untrue, wo
could, under the protection of the laws alone, go on
^living as before, without any special addition to our
apprehensions or our measures of precaution. I will
go beyond this, and say that religions have very fro-
qgentljr exercised a de^dodj^^

One may say generally that duties towards God and ,\
duties towards humanity are in inverse ratio. It is J
easy to let adulation of the Deity make amends for
Lack of proper behaviour towards man. And so we
see that in all times and in all countries the great
majority oi mankind find it much easier to beg their
way to heaven by prayers than to deserve to go there
by their actions, In eye^xoligion it soon comes to
be the case that faith, ceremoiyc^ rites aad the like

1

i

A DIALOGUE. 45

are proclaimed to be more agreebl to , the Divine will
than moral actions ; the former, especially if they are
bound up with the emoluments of the clergy, gradually
come to be looked upon as a substitute for the latter.
Sacrifices ^ojbemgles, the sagnag of jrtq^es, theJEpiuid-
ir^*^^^^fife ^?^Elffiii^gQf-^ ^ ses by the road
side] "soon come to be the most meritorious works, so
that even great crimes are expiated by them, as also
by penance, subjection to priestly authority, con-
fessions, pilgrimages, donations to the temples and the
clergy, the building of monasteries and the like. The
consequence of all this is that the pricstsjinally jigrjear
as middlemen in the^cpr^uptiQE'Sr^^g^s. And if f
quite so ..... far as that, where is the *

religion whose adherents don't consider prayers, praise

and manifold acts of devotion, a substitute, at least in

part, for moral conduct ? Look at England, where by

an audacious piece of priestcraft, the

introduced by Constantine the Great as a substitute I/I ,

for the Jewish Sabbath, is in a mendacious way iden- \

iified with it, and takes its name, and this in order

that the commands of Jehovah for the Sabbath, (that

is, tie day on which the Almighty had to rest from

his six: days' labour, so that it is essentially the last

day of the weel?), might be applied to the Christian

Sunday, the J^.aoWs, the first day of the week which \

the sun opens in glory, the day of devotion and joy.

The consequence of this fraud is that " Sabbath-

breaking/' or " the desecration of the Sabbath," that is,/

the slightest occupation, whether of business or)

pleasure, all games, music, sewing, worldly books, are)

on Sundays looked upon as great sins. Surely the {

46

BELIGION :

ordinary man must believe that if, as his spiritual
guides impress upon him, he is only constant m a
strict observance of the holy Sabbath," and " a regular
attendance on Divine Service," that is, if he only in-
variably idles away his time on Sundays and doesnt
fail to sit two hours in church to hear the same litany
for the thousandth time and mutter it in tune with the
others, he may reckon on indulgence in regard to those
little peccadilloes which he occasionally allows him-
fself Those devils in human .form, the slave owners
land slave traders in the Free States of North America
1 (they should be called the Slave States) are, as a rule,
I orthodox, pious Anglicans "who would consider it a
Uave sin to work on Sundays ; and in confidence m
this, and their regular attendance at church, they hops
for eternal happiness. The Jlemoralising tendency.^
religion is less problematical than its m^tal mfluence.
. How great and howTertaki -that morarTnfluence must
be to make amends for the enormities which religions,
especially the CJmjaflJi-Anl Mohammedaa religions,
have, produced and spread over the earth ! Think of
the fanaticism, the endless_persecutions, the religious
wars, that sanguinary _,fra^y"oT\vhich the ancients
had no conception ! think of thejcrusades, a butchery
lasting two hundred years and inexcusable, its war-
cry "It is the will of God," its object to gain
possession of the grayejrf one who preached love and
sufferance ! think of~the cruel expulsion and exter-
mination of the Moors and Jews from Spain ! think
of the orgies ol Blood, the mguvsitipns, the heretical
tribunals, the bloody and terrible conquests o tho
* - i in three continents, or those of Chris-

A DIALOGUE.

47

\

fcianity in America, whose inhabitants were for the most
part, and in Cuba entirely, exterminated. According
to Las Casas, Christianity murdered twelve millions -\t
in forty years, of course all in majorem Dei gloriam i
1 and. for the propagation of the Gospel, and because!
wliat wasn't Christian wasn't even looked upon a*f
human ! I have, it is true, touched upon these matters!
before ; but when in our day, we hear of " Latest
News from the Kingdom of God/'* we shall not be
weary of bringing old news to mind. And above all, "
don't let us forgoJJ^MIa, the cradle of the human racej

or aTIeast of that $arfbf it to which we belong, where|
first Mohammedans, and then Christians, were most*'
cruelly infuriated against the adherents of the origi-
nal faith of mankind. The destruction or disfigure-
ment of the ancienf temples and idols, a lamentable,
mischievous and barbaTOUs act, still bears witness to
the monotheistic fury of tlie Mohammedans, carried
on from Marmud the Ghaznevid of cursed memory^
down to Aureng Zeb the fratricide, whom the
Portuguese Christians have zealously imitated by
destruction of "temples and the auto da fe of the
inqms^ipn at Gpa^ Don't let us forget the chosen*
people of God/'who after they had, by JeEovah's ex- '
pfess^ccSamand, stolen from their old and trusty )
'friends in Egypt the gold and silver vessels which];
had been lent to them, made a murderous and plunder-! f
ing inroad into "the Promised Land," with theJ7
murderer Moses at their head, to tear it from the*
ngEtiui owners, again by the same Jehovah's express

* A missionary periodical, the fortieth annual number of
which appeared in 185

RELIGION :

and repeated commands, showing no mercy, extermi-
nating the inhabitants, women, children and all,
(*l2i:^^ -A-ttd a ^ this, simply because

b they weren't circumcised and didn't know Jehovah,
, ; which was reason enough to justify every enormity
against them ; just as for the same reason, in earlier
times, the infamous knavery of the patriarch Jacob and
his chosen people against liamor, Eang "of Shalom, and
his people, is reported to his glory because the peoplo

" were unbelievers ! (Genesis xxxiii. 18.) Truly, it is
the worst side of religions that the believers of one
religion have allowed themselves every sin against
those of another, and with the utmost ruffianism and

I cruelty persecuted them ; the Mohammedans against

th,e Christens and Hindoos ; the Christians against

^ the Hindoos, Mohammedans, American natives, Ne-

rlgroes, Jews, heretics, and others.

Perhaps I go too far in saying all religions. For

[the sake of truth, I .must add that the, fanatical
jniwes perpetrated in the n^rne of religion arc
only Jo be put down to the adherents of monotheistic
that is, the Jewish faith and its two branches,'
Chris f tianitjr and |slamism. Wo hear of nothing' of
the kind in the case " of Hindoos and Buddhists,
Although it is a matter of common knowledge that
about the fifth century of our era Buddhism was
driven out by the Brahmans from its ancient homo in
the southernmost part of the Indian peninsula, and

f afterwards spread over the whole of the rest of Asia,
^s fax as I know, we have no definite account of any
crimes of violence, or wars, or cruelties, perpetrated in

; the course of it That may, of course, be attributable

i

vf

"A DIALOGUE.

49

to the obscurity which veils the history of those
countries ; but the exceedingly mild character of theit
religion, together with their, unceasing inculcation of
forJDfiaj^nce towards all living things, and the faci
*that Brahmanism by, its caste jsystem properly adm
no jpsel^es, allows oiae to hope that their adherent^
tnay be"acq[uitted*of shedding of blood on a large scales
and of cruelty in any f form. Spence Hardy, in his f
excellent book on Eastern Monachism, praises the ex-
traordinary tolerance of the Buddhists, and adds his
assurance that the annals of Buddhism will furnish
fewer instances of religious persecution than those of
any other religion. As a matter of fact, ^^.SSiK^
monotheism^ tjjafcjy^

nature a t jealousp;od, who ,,gan,.allow_n^

TS^T'goS'^ "exist Ppl^^igtic gods, on ^ the ..other
hand, are naturally tgjp| pit ; they live and let live;
"their own colleagues* are the chief objects of their
sufferance, as being gods of the same religion. This
toleration is afterwards extended to foreign gods, who
are, accordingly, hospitably received, and later on ad-
mitted, in some cases, to an equality of rights ; the
chief example of which is shown by the fact that the
Romans willingly admitted and venerated Phrygian*
Egyptian and other gods. Hence it is that J^o-
theistic, religions alone furnish the spectacle oJ
r( ^igious persecutions, heretical tri-
!SiSs7"that *breaErig*" of idols and Destruction oi
iffiSSes of tEe'jgpds, that^razing of Indian temples^ axic
fi^^tian colossi, wMcEThad looked on the sun three
tfimisand jcars ; just because a jealous god had said
^it make no graven image. / *

' t " >

1
h;

mankind; but religion appears to me to be not so
much a satisfaction as an abuse of those needs. At
? any rate we have seen that in regard to the further-
ance of morality, its utility is, for the most part,
* problematlcat its disadvantages, and especially the
g^jjggjggg^-jljg^ have followed in its train, patent to
the light of day. Of course it is quite a different
matter if we consider the utilitv of religion as a grop,
of thrones ; for where these are held " by the grace of
God,^ tlbrone and altar are intimately associated ; and
every wise prince who loves his throne and his family
will appear at the head of his people as an exemplar
of true religion. Even Machiavelli, in the eighteenth
chapter of his booETTnost earnestly recommended
religion to grinces. Beyond this one may say that
revealed religions stand to philosophy exactly in the
relation of "sovereigns by the grace of God," to
"the sovereignty of the people;" so that the two
former terms of the parallel are in natural alliance.

Demopheles. Oh, don't take that tone ! You're
going hand in hand with ochlocracy and anarchy, the
arch-enemy of all legislative order, all civilisation and
all humanity. ^

Philalethes. You are right. It was only a sophism
of mine, wliat the fencing master calls a feint. I
retract it. But see how disputing sometimes makes
an honest man unjust and malicious. Let us g|top.

Demopheles. I can't help regretting that, after all
the trouble I've taken, I haven't altered your dis-
position in regard to religion. On the other hand, I

Philalemes.
s? Hudibras

1 believe you; tor as we read in

> " He that complies against his will

Is of his own opinion still."

My consolation is that, alike in controversies and in
taking mineral waters, the after effects are the true
ones.

Demopheles. Well, I hope it'll be beneficial in your
case.

Philalethes. It might be so, if I could digest a
certain Spanish proverb.

Demopheles. Which is ?

Philalethes. Behind the cross stands the devil.

Demopheles. Come, don't let us part with sarcasms.
Let us rather admit that religion, like Janus, or better
still, like the' "Brahman god of death, Y^ma, has two
faces, and like him, one friendly, the other sullen. W
Each of us has kept his eyes fixed on one alone.

Philalethes. You are right, old fellow !

A
FEW WORDS ON PANTHEISM.

I

A FEW WORDS ON PANTHEISM.

THE controversy between Theism and Pantheism
might be presented in an allegorical or dramatic form
by supposing a dialogue between two persons in the
pit of a theatre at Milan during the performance of a
piece. One of them, convinced that he is in Girolamo's
renowned marionette-theatre, admires the art by
which the director gets up the dolls and guides their
movements. " Oh, you are quite mistaken," says the
other, " we're in the Teatro della Scala ; it is the
manager and his troop who are on the stage ; they are
the persons you see before you ; the poet too is tak-
ing a part."

The chief objection I have to Pantheisixi ..is jbjiat i^
To call the world' "God" is not to
explain it ; it is only to enrich our language with a
superfluous synonym for the word " world." It comgs
toj/he same th^ng whether you say "the world is
God?' or " God is the worli" But if you'starf irom
TfoS *'" 'as sometHing that is given in experience, and
has to be explained, and then say, " God is the
world," you are affording what is to some extent an
explanation, in so far as you are reducing what is
unknown to what is partly known (ignotum per
notius) ; but it is only a verbal explanation. IL
however, you start from what is really given, that is

explaining what is unknown by what is more un-
known

Hence Pantheism presupposes Theism ; only in so

far as you start from a god, that is, in so far as you

possess Mm as something with which you are already

familiar, can you end by identifying him with the

world ; and your purpose in doing so is to put him

out of the way in a decent fashion. In other words,

you do not start clear from the world as something

that requires explanation; you start from God as

something that is given, and not knowing what to do

with him, you make the world take over his r81e.

This is the origin of Pantheism. Taking, &** ^U-

prejudiced view of the world as it is, no one would

! dream of regarding it as a god. It must be a very

1 ill-advised god who knows no better way of diverting

i himself than by burning into such a world as ours,

^uch a mean, shabby, world, there to take the form of

innumerable millions who live indeed, but are frettgd

and tormented, and who manage to^xist a while

together only, by preying on one another; t$ bear

I misery, need and death, without measure and without

object, in the form, for instance, of millions of negro

slaves, or of the three million weavers in Europe who,

j in hunger and care, lead a miserable existence in

damp rooms or the cheerless halls of a factory. TJ[bftt

I & pastime this for a ffod, who must, as such, be used

I ^ gAgHMuMMfe * Jfcfc, , & , , /' , ^ <(| ^.,

; (to another mode of existence 1

We find accordingly that what is described as the
great advance from Theism to Pantheism, if looked

fused may be the idea which we connect with the
word " God," there are two predicates which are
inseparable from it, the highest power and the highest
wisdom. It is absolutely absurd to think that a being
endowed with these qualities should have put him-
self into the position described above. Theism, on
the other hand, is something which is merely un-
proved ; and if it is difficult to look upon the infinite
world as the work of a personal, and therefore in-
dividual, Being, the like of which we know only from
our experience of the animal world, it is nevertheless
not an absolutely absurd idea. That a Being, at once
almighty and all-good, should create a world of tor-
ment is always conceivable ; even though we do not
know why he does so; and accordingly we find that
when people ascribe the height of goodness to this
Being, they set up the inscruteblo, natur.e of his
wisdom as the refuge by which the docM^ escapes
the charge of absurdity. Pantheism, however, assumes
that the creative God is himself the world of in-
finite torment, %nd, in this little world alone, dies
every second, and that entirely of his own will ; which
is absurd. It would be much more correct to identify
the world, with the devil, as the venerable author of
the Deutsche Theologie has, in fact, done in a passage
of his immortal work, where he says, " Wherefore the
evil spirit and nature a/re one, and where nature is not
overcome, neither is the evil adversary overcome"

mystics to the Nirvana. The latter, however, state
more about the Nirvana than they know, which is not
done by the Buddhists, whose Nirvana is accordingly
a relative nothing. It is only Jews, Christians, and
Mohammedans who give its proper and correct mean-
ing to the word " God."

The expression, often heard now-a-days, " the world
is an end-in-itself," leaves it uncertain whether Pan-
theism or a simple Fatalism is to be taken as the ex-
planation of it. But, whichever it be, the expression
looks upon the world from a physical point of view
only, and leaves out of sight its moral significance,
ibecause you cannot assume a moral significance with-
;out presenting the world as means to a higher end.
(The notion that the world has a physical but not a
moral meaning is the most mischievous error sprung
Ifrom the greatest mental perversity.

II;:

I IN

ON BOOKS AND READING.

ON BOOKS AND READING.

iGNOliANCEjs degrading only when found in comgajjy
The poor man Is restrained by poverty

and need: labour occupies his thoughts, and takes the
place o knowledge. But rich men who are ignorant
live for their lusts only, and are like the beasts of the
field ; as may be seen every day : and they can also
be reproached for not having used wealth and leisure
for that which, gives them their greatest value.

When we read, another person thinks for us : we
merely repeat his mental process. In learning to
write, the pupil goes over with his pen what the
teacher has outlined in pencil : so in reading ; the
greater part of the work of thought is already done
f of us. This is why it relieves us to take up a book
after being occupied with our own thoughts. And in
reading, the mind is, in fact, only the playground of
another's thoughts* So it comes about that if anyone
spends almost the whole day in reading, and by way
of relaxation devotes the intervals to some thoughtless
pastime, he gradually loses the capacity for thinking ;
just as the man who always rides at last forgets how
to walk. This is the case with many learned persons :
they have read themselves , stupid. For to occupy
every spare moment in reading, and to do nothing but
read, is even more paralysing to the mind than con-

111 lb UU J.UJLJLU W UJLJLC/1JL

IJL WJAJUllLQ.

never free from the pressure of some foreign, body at
last loses its elasticity : and so does the mind if other
people's thoughts are constantly forced upon it. Just
as you can ruin the stomach and impair the whole
body by taking too much nourishment, so you can
overfill and choke the mind by feeding it too much,
The more you read, the fewer are the traces left by what
you have read : the mind becomes like a tablet crossed
over and over with writing. There is no time for
ruminating, and in no other way can you assimilate
what you have read. If you read on and on without
setting your own thoughts to work, what you have
' read can not strike root, and is generally lost. It is, in
fact, just the same with mental as with bodily food :
hardly the fifth part of whatone takes is assimilated. The
rest passes off in evaporation, respiration, and the like.
The result of all this is that thoughts put on paper
are nothing more than footsteps in the sand : you see
the way the man has gone, but to know what he saw
on his walk, you want his eyes.

There is no quality of style that can be gained by
reading writers who possess itf whether it be
persuasiveness, imagination, the gift of drawing com-
parisons, boldness, bitterness, brevity, grace, ease of
expression or wit, unexpected contrasts, a laconic or
naive manner, and the like. But if these qualities
are already in us, exist, that is to say, potentially, we
can call them forth and bring them to consciousness ;
we can learn the purposes to which they can be put ;

ON BOOKS AND READING. 63

we can be strengthened in our inclination to use them,
or get courage to do so ; we can judge by examples
the effect of applying them, and so acquire the correct
use of them ; and of course it is only when we have
arrived at that point that we actually possess these
qualities. The only way in which reading can form
style is by teaching us the use to which we can put
our own natural gifts. We must have these gifts
before we begin to learn the use of them. Without
them, reading teaches us nothing but cold, dead
mannerisms and makes us shallow imitators.

The strata of the earth preserve in rows the
creatures which lived in former ages ; and the array
of books on the shelves of a library stores up in like
manner the errors of the past and the way in which
they have been exposed. Like those creatures, they
too were full of life in their time, and made a great
deal of noise; but now they are stiff andf ossilized,and an
object of curiosity to the literary palaeontologist alone.

Serodotus relates that Xerxes wept at the sight
of his army, which stretched further than the eye
could raach, in the thought that of all these, after a
hundred years, not one would be alive. And in look-
ing over a huge catalogue of new books, one might
weep at thinking that, when ten years have passed,
not one of them will be heard of.

It is in literature as in life :- wherever you turn, you
stumble at once upon the incorrigible mob of humanity,
swarming in all directions, crowding and soiling

64 ON BOOKS AND READING.

everything, like flies in summer. Hence the number
which no man can count, of bad books, those rank
weeds of literature, which draw nourishment from the
corn and choke it. The time, money and attention of
the public, which rightfully belong to good books
and their noble aims, they take for themselves : they
are written for the mere purpose of making money or
procuring places. So they are not only useless ; they
do positive mischief. Nine tenths of the whole of
our present literature has no other aim than to get a
few shillings out of the pockets of the public ; and to
this end author, publisher and reviewer are in league.
Let me mention a crafty and wicked trick, albeit a
profitable and successful one, practised by litterateurs,
hack writers and voluminous authors. In complete
disregard of good taste and the true culture of the period,
they have succeeded in getting the whole of the world -
of fashion into leading strings, so that they are all
trained to read in time, and all the same thing, viz.
the newest books ; and that for the purpose of getting
food for conversation in the circles in which they move.
This is the aim served by bad novels, produced by
writers who were once celebrated, as Spincllcr, Bulwer
Lytton, Eugene Sue. What can be more iniserabl^f than
the lot of a reading public like this, Always bound to
peruse the latest works of extremely commonplace
persons who write for money only, and who are
therefore never few in number ? and for this advan-
tage they are content to know by name only the
works of the few superior minds of all ages and all
countries. Literary newspapers, too, are a singularly
cunning device for robbing the reading public of the

HMBf " v k" i""-"'"^ 1 """'."" 1
i"

ON BOOKS AND READING.

65

time which, if culture is to be attained, should be
devoted to the genuine productions of literature,
instead of being occupied by 'the daily bungling of
commonplace persons.

Hence, in regard to. reading, it is a very important
thing to be able to refrain. Skill in doing so consists
in not taking into one's hands any book merely be-
cause at the time it happens to be extensively read;
such as political or religious pamphlets, novels, poetry,
and the like, which make a noise, and may even attain
to several editions in the first and last year of their
existence. Consider, rather, that the man who writes
for fools is always sure of a large audience; be
careful to limit your time for reading, and devote
it exclusively to the works of those great minds of all
times and countries, who o'ertop the rest of humanity,
those whom the voice of fame points to as such.
These alone really educate and instruct. You can
never read bad literature too little, nor good literature
too much. Bad books are intellectual poison; they
destroy the mind. Because people always read what
is raw instead of the best of all ages, writers remain
in the narrow circle of the ideas which happen to
prevail 5n their time ; and so the period sinks deeper
and deeper into its own mire.

There are at all times two literatures in progress,
running side by side, but little known to each other ;
the one real, the other only apparent. The former
grows into permanent literature ; it is pursued by
those who live for science or poetry ; its course is
sober and quiet, but extremely slow ; and it produces

66

ON BOOKS AND READING.

in Europe scarcely a dozen works in a century; these,
however, are permanent. The other kind is pursued
by persons who live on science or poetry ; it goes at a
gallop, with much noise and shouting of partisans ;
and every twelvemonth puts a thousand works oit
the market. Bat after a few years one asks, Where
are they ? where is the glory which came so soon and
made so much clamour ? This kind may be called
fleeting, and the other, permanent literature.

In the history of politics, half a century is always
a considerable time ; the matter which goes to form
them is ever on the move ; there is always something
going on. But in the history of literature there is
often a complete standstill for the same period ; no-
thing has happened, for clumsy attempts don't count.
You are just where you were fifty years previously.

To explain what I mean, let rne compare the ad-
vance of knowledge among mankind to the course
taken by a planet. The false paths on which
humanity usually enters after every important ad-
vance are like the epicycles in the Ptolemaic system,
and after passing through one of them, the world is
iust where it was before it entered it. Butane great
minds, who really bring the race further on its course,
do not accompany it on the epicycles it makes from
time to time. This explains why posthumous fame is
, often bought at the expense of contemporary praise,
and vice versa. An instance of such an epicycle is the
philosophy started by Fichte and Schelling, and
crowned by Hegel's caricature of it. This epicycle
was a deviation from the limit to which philosophy

ON BOOKS AND BEADING.

had been ultimately brought by Kant ; and at that
point I took it up again afterwards, to carry it further.
In the intervening period the sham philosophers I
have mentioned and some others went through their
epicycle, which has just come to an end; so that those
who went with them on their course are conscious of
the fact that they are exactly at the point from which
they started.

This circumstance explains why it is that, every
thirty years or so, science, literature, and art, as ex-
pressed in the spirit of the age are declared bank-
rupt. The errors which appear from time to time
mount to such a height in that period that the mere
weight of their absurdity makes the fabric fall ;
whilst the opposition to them has been gathering force
at the same time. So an upset takes place, often fol-
lowed by an error in the opposite direction. To ex-
hibit these movements in their periodical return would
be the true practical aim of the history of literature :
little attention, however, is paid to it. And besides,
the -.comparatively short duration of these period *
makes it difficult to collect the data of epochs long
gone by ;: so that it is most convenient to observe how
the matter stands in -one's own generation. An instance
of this tendency, drawn from physical science, is sup-
plied in the Neptunian geology of Werter. But let
me keep to the example cited above, the nearest we
can take. In German philosophy, the brilliant epoch
of Kant was immediately followed by a period which
aimed rather at being imposing than at convincing.
Instead of being thorough and clear, it tried to be
dazzling, hyperbolical, and, in a special (Jegree, unin-

G8 ON BOOKS AND READING.

telligible: instead of seeking truth, it intrigued.
Philosophy could make no progress in this fashion ;
and at last the whole school and its method became
bankrupt. For the effrontery of Hegel and his follows
came to such a pass, whether because they talkecT
such sophisticated nonsense, or were so unscrupulously
puffed, or because the entire aim of this pretty piece
of work was quite obvious, that in the end there
was nothing to prevent the charlatanry of the whole
business from becoming manifest to everybody : and
when, in consequence of certain disclosures, the favour
-it had enjoyed in high quarters was withdrawn, the
system was openly ridiculed. This most miserable of
all the meagre philosophies that have ever existed
came to grief, and dragged down with it into the abysm
of discredit the systems of Fichte arid Schelling which
had preceded it. And so, as far as Germany is con-
cerned, the total philosophical incompetence of the first
half of the century following upon Kant is quite plain :
and still the Germans boast of their talent for philoso-
phy in comparison with foreigners, especially sineg an
English writer has been so maliciously ironical as to
call them " a nation of thinkers/' 9

For an example of the general ^ystem of epicycles
drawn from the history of art, look at the school of
sculpture which flourished in the last century and took
its name from Bernini, more especially at the develop-
ment of it which prevailed in France. The ideal of
this school was not antique beauty, but commonplace
nature : instead of the simplicity and grace of ancient
art, it represented the manners of a French minuet.
This tendency became bankrupt when, under Winekel-

ON BOOKS AND READING.

mann's direction, a return was made to the antique
school. The history of painting furnishes an illustra-
tion in the first quarter of the century,- when art was
looked upon merely as a means and instrument of
-mediaeval religious sentiment, and its themes conse-
quently drawn from ecclesiastical subjects alone :
these, however, were treated by painters who had none
of the true earnestness of faith, and in their delusion
they followed Francesco Francia, Pietro Perugino,
Angelico da Fiesole and others like them, rating them
higher even than the really great masters who followed.
It was in view of this error, and because in poetry an
analogous aim had at the same time found favour, that
Goethe wrote his parable Pfaffenspiel. This school,
too, got the reputation of being whimsical, became
bankrupt, and was followed by a return to nature,
which proclaimed itself in genre pictures and scenes of
life of every kind, even though it now and then strayed
into what was vulgar.

The progress of the human mind in literature is
similar. The history of literature is for the most part
lile the catalogue of a museum of deformities; the
spirit in which they keep best is pigskin. The few
creatures that have been born in goodly shape need
not be looked for Ciere. They are still alive, and are
everywhere to be met with in the world, immortal,
and with their years ever green. They alone form
what I have called real literature; the history of
which, poor as it is in persons, we learn from our youth
up out of the mouths of all educated people, before
compilations recount it for us.

As an antidote *to the prevailing monomania for

ON BOOKS AND READING.

reading literary histories, in order to be able to chatter
about everything, without having any real knowledge
at all, let me refer to a passage in Lichtenberg's works,

(vol. II. p. 302), which is well worth perusal.

<*

I believe that tho over-minute acquaintance with the history
of science and learning, which is such a prevalent feature of our
deiy, is very prejudicial to the advance of knowledge itself.
There is pleasure in following up this history ; but, as a matter
of fact, it leaves the mind, not empty indeed, but without any
power of its own, just because it makes it so full. Whoever has
felt tho desire, not to fill up his mind, but to strengthen it, to
develope his faculties and aptitudes, and generally, to enlarge
his powers, will have found that there is nothing so weakening as
intercourse with a so-called litterateur, on a matter of knowledge
on which he has not thought at all, though he knows a thousand
little facts appertaining to its history and literature. It is like
leading a cookery-book when you are hungry. I believe that
so-galled literary history will never thrive amongst thoughtful
people, who are conscious of their own worth and the worth of
real knowledge. These people are more given to employing
their own reason than to troubling themselves to know how
others have employed theirs. The worst of it is that, as you will
find, the more knowledge takes the direction of literary re-
search, the less tho power of promoting knowledge becomes ;-the
only thing that increases is pride in the possession of it. Such
persons believe that they possess knowledge in a greater degree
than those who really possess it. It is surely a well-founded re-
i mark, that knowledge never makes its p^sessor proud. Those
alone let themselves be blown out with prido, who, incapable of ex-
tending knowledge in their own persons, occupy themselves with
clearing up dark points in its history, or are able to recount
what others have done. They are proud, because they consider
this occupation, which is mostly of a mechanical nature, the
practice of knowledge. I could illustrate what I mean by
examples, but it woulcl be an odious task.

Still, I wish some one would attempt a tragical

BOOKS AND

71

history of literature, giving the way in which the
writers and artists, who form the proudest possession
| of the various nations which have given them birth,

| liave been treated by them during their lives. Such

a history would exhibit the ceaseless warfare, which
what was good and genuine in all times and countries
has had to wage with what was bad and perverse. It
would tell of the martyrdom of almost all those who
truly enlightened humanity, of almost all the great
masters of every kind of art : it would show us how,
with few exceptions, they were tormented to death,
without recognition, without sympathy, without
followers ; how they lived in poverty and misery,
whilst fame, honour, and riches, were the lot of the
unworthy ; how their fate was that of Esau, who,
while he was hunting and getting venison for his
father, was robbed of the blessing by Jacob, disguised
in his brother's clothes ; how, in spite of all, they were
kept up by the love of their work, until at last the
bitter fight of the teacher of humanity is over, until
the immortal laurel is held out to him, and the
hour strikes when it can be said :

Der schwere Panzer vi ird zum Fltigelkleide
Kurz ist der Schmorz, unendlich 1st die Freude.

ON PHYSIOGNOMY

4

PHYSIOGNOMY.

THAT the outer man is a picture of the inner, and the
face an expression and revelation of the whole char-
acter, is a presumption likely enough in itself, and
therefore a safe one to go by ; evidenced as it is by
the fact that people are always anxious to see anyone
who has made himself famous by good or evil, or as
the author of some extraordinary work ; or if they
cannot get a sight of him, to hear at any rate from
others what he looks like. So people go to places
where they may expect to see the person who interests
them ; the press, especially in England, endeavours to
give a minute and striking description of his appear-
ance ; painters and engravers lose no time in putting
^him visibly before us ; and finally photography, on
that very account of such high value, affords the most
complete satisfaction of our curiosity. It is also a
fact that in private life everyone criticises the phy-
siognomy of those he comes across, first of all secretly
trying to discern their intellectual and moral char-
acter from their features. This would be a useless
proceeding if, as some foolish people fancy, the ex-
terior of a man is a matter of no account ; if, as they
think, the soul is one thing and the body another, and
the body related to the soul merely as the coat to the
man himself.

?(J PHYSIOGNOMY.

I On the contrary, every human face is a hierogly-
phic, and a hieroglyphic, too, which admits of being

1 deciphered, the alphabet of which we carry about
with us already perfected. As a matter of fact, the
face of a man gives us fuller and more interesting in-
formation than his tongue ; for his face is the com-
pendium of all he will ever say, as it is the one record
of all his thoughts and endeavours. And, moreover,
the tongue tells the thought of one man only, whereas
the face -expresses a thought of nature itself: so that
everyone is worth attentive observation, even though
everyone may not be worth talking to. And if every
individual is worth observation as a single thought of
nature, how much more so is beauty, since it is a
higher and more general conception of nature, is, in
fact, her thought of a species. This is why beautj r is
so captivating: it is a fundamental thought of
nature : whereas the individual is only a by-thought,
a corollary.

In private, people always proceed upon, the prin-
ciple that a man is what he looks ; and the principle
is a right one, only the difficulty lies in its application,^
For though the art of applying the principle is partly
innate and may be partly gained by experiencS, no
one is a master of it, and even the nfost experienced
is not infallible. But for all that, whatever Figaro
may say, it is not the face which deceives ; it is we who
deceive ourselves in reading in it what is not there.

The deciphering of a face is certainly a great and
difficult art, and the principles of it can never be

learnt in the abstract. The first condition of success

is to maintain a purely objective poini of view, which

i

4

PHYSIOGNOMY.

is no easy matter. For, as soon as the faintest trace
of anything subjective is present, whether dislike or
favour, or fear or hope, or even the thought of the im-
pression we ourselves are making upon the object of
our attention, the characters we are trying- to decipher
become confused and corrupt. The sound of a lan-
guage is really appreciated only by one who does not
understand it, and that because, in thinking of the
signification of a word, we pay no regard to the sign
itself. So, in the same way, a physiognomy is correctly
gauged only by one to whom it is still strange, who
has not grown accustomed to the face by constantly
meeting and conversing with the man himself. It is,
therefore, strictly speaking, only the first sight of a
man which affords that purely objective view which
is necessary for deciphering his features, An odour
affects us only when we first come in contact with it,
and the first glass of a wine is the one which gives us .
its true taste : in the same way, it is only at the first
encounter that a face makes its full impression upon
us. Consequently the first impression should be care-
fully attended to and noted, even written down if the
subject of it is of personal importance, provided, of
course, that one can trust one's own sense of phy-
siognomy. Subsequent acquaintance and Intercourse
will obliterate the impression, but time will one day
prove whether it is true.

Let us, however, not conceal from ourselves the
fact that this first impression is for the most part
extremely unedifying. How poor most faces are !
With the exception of those that are beautiful, good-
natured, or intellectual, that IB to say, the very few

78

PHYSIOGNOMY.

I:

: i

and far between, I believe a person of any fine feeling
scarcely ever sees a new face without a sensation akin
to a shock, for the reason that it presents a new and
surprising combination of unedifying elements. T.o
tell the truth, it is, as a rule, a sorry sight. There
are some people whose faces bear the stamp of such
.artless vulgarity and baseness of character, such an
animal limitation of intelligence, that one wonders
how they can appear in public with such a counten-
ance, instead of wearing a mask. There are faces,
indeed, the very sight of which produces a feeling of
pollution. One cannot therefore take it amiss of
people, whose privileged position admits of it, if they
manage to live in retirement and completely free from
the painful sensation of "seeing new faces." The
metaphysical explanation of this circumstance rests
upon the consideration that the individuality of a man
is precisely that by the very existence of which he
should be reclaimed and corrected. If, on the other
hand, a psychological explanation is satisfactory, let
any one ask himself what kind of physiognomy he
may expect in those who have all their life long^
except on the rarest occasions, harboured nothing but
petty, base and miserable thoughts, and vulgar, selfish,
envious, wicked and malicious desires. Every one of
these thoughts and desires has set its mark upon the
face Curing the time it lasted, and by constant re
petition, all these marks have in course of time become
furrows and blotches, so to speak. Consequently,
most people's appearance is such as to produce a shock
at first sight; and it is only gradually that one gets
accustomed to it, that is to say, becomes so deadened

Lt

PHYSIOGNOMY.

79

to the impression that it lias no more effect on

one.

And that the prevailing facial expression is the
result of a long process of innumerable, fleeting and
characteristic contractions of the features is just the
reason why intellectual countenances are of gradual
formation. It is indeed only in old age that intel- *
lectual men attain their sublime expression, whilst
portraits of them in their youth show only the first
traces of it. But on the other hand, what I have just
said about the shock which the first sight of a face
generally produces is in keeping with the remark
that it is only at that first sight that it makes its true
and full impression. For to get a purely objective
and uncorrupted impression of it, we must stand in
no kind of relation to the person ; if possible, we
must not yet have spoken with him. For every con-
versation places us to some extent upon a friendly
footing, establishes a certain rapport, a mutual sub-
jective relation, which is at once unfavourable to an
objective point of view. And as everyone's endeavour
if to win esteem or friendship for himself, the man
who is under observation will at once employ all those
arts of. dissimulation in which he is already versed,
and corrupt us with his airs, hypocrisies and ,
flatteries ; so that what the first look clearly showed
will soon be seen by us no more.

This fact is at the bottom of the saying that "most
people gain by further acquaintance ; " it ought, how-
ever, to run, " delude us by it." It is only when, later
on, the bad qualities manifest themselves that our
first judgment as g, rule receives its justification and

80

PHYSIOGNOMY.

makes good its scornful verdict. It may be that " a
further acquaintance" is an unfriendly one, and if
that is so, we do not find in this case either that
people gain by it. Another reason why people
apparently gain on a nearer acquaintance is that the
man whose first aspect warns us from him, as soon as
we converse with him, no longer shows his own being
and character, but also his education ; that is, not
only what he really is by nature, but also what he has
appropriated to himself out of the common wealth of
mankind. Three-fourths of what he says belongs not
to him, but to the sources from which he obtained it ;
so that we are often surprised to hear a niinotaur
speak so humanly. If we make a still closer
acquaintance, the animal nature, of which his face
gave promise, will manifest itself "in all its splendour."
If one is gifted with an acute sense for physiognomy,
one should take special note of those verdicts which
-preceded a -closer acquaintance and were therefore
genuine. For the face of a man is the exact ex-
pression of what he is ; and if he deceives us, that is
our fault, not his. What a man says, on the otlfet
hand, is what he thinks, more often what he has
learned, or it may be even, what he pretends tcf think.
And besides this, when we talk toliim, or even hear
him talking to others, we pay no attention to his
physiognomy proper. It is the underlying substance,
the fundamental datum, and we disregard it ; what
interests us is its pathognomy, its play of feature
during conversation. This, however, is so arranged
as to turn the good side upwards.
When Socrates said to a young^mau who was in-

PHYSIOGNOMY.

81

troduced to him to have his capabilities tested,
"Talk in order that I may see you," if indeed by
"seeing" he did not simply mean "hearing," he was
right, so far as it is only in conversation that the
features and especially the eyes become animated, and
the intellectual resources and capacities set their mark
upon the countenance. This puts us in a position to
form a provisional notion of the degree and capacity
of intelligence ; which was in that case Socrates' aim.
But in this connection it is to be observed, firstly, that
the rule does not apply to moral qualities, which lie
deeper; and in the second place, that what from an
objective point of view we gain by the clearer develop-
ment of the countenance in conversation, we lose from
a subjective standpoint on account of .the personal
relation into which the speaker at once enters in re-
gard to us, and which produces a slight fascination, so
that, as explained above, we are not left impartial
observers. Consequently from the last point of view
we might say with greater accuracy, " Do not speak
in order that I may see you."

For to get a pure and fundamental conception of a
man's physiognomy, we must observe him when he is
alone arffl left to himself. Society of any kind and
conversation throw a reflection upon him which is not
his own, generally to his advantage ; as he is thereby
placed in a state of action and re-action which sets
him off. But alone and left to himself, plunged in
the depths of his own thoughts 1 and sensations, he is
wholly himself, and a penetrating eye for physiognomy
can at one glance take a general view of his entire
character. For his i'ace, looked at by and in itself, ex-

82 PHYSIOGNOMY.

presses the keynote of all his thoughts and en-
deavours, the arret irrevocable, the irrevocable decree
of his destiny, the consciousness of which only comes
to him when he is alone.

The study of physiognomy is one of the chief means
of a knowledge of mankind, because the cast of a
man's face is the only sphere in which his arts of
dissimulation are of no avail, since these arts extend
only to that play of feature which is akin to mimicry.
And that is why I recommend such a study to be
undertaken when the subject of it is alone and given
up to his own thoughts, and before he is spoken to :
and this partly for the reason that it is only in such a
condition that inspection of the physiognomy pure and
simple is possible, because conversation at once lets iii
a pathognomical element, in which a man can apply
the' arts of dissimulation which he has learned : partly
again because personal contact, even of the very
slightest kind, gives a certain bias and so corrupts the
judgment of the observer.

And in regard to the study of physiognomy in
general, it is further to be observed that intelleckial
capacity is much easier of discernment than moral
character. The former naturally takes a much more
outward direction, and expresses itself not only in the
face and the play of feature, but also in the gait, down
even to the very slightest movement. One could per-
haps discriminate from behind between a blockhead,
a fool and a man of genius. The blockhead would be
discerned by the torpidity and sluggishness of all his
movements : folly sets its mark upon every gesture,
and so does intellect and a studious nature. Hence

PHYSIOGNOMY.

83

that remark of La Braykre that there is nothing so
slight, so simple or imperceptible but that our way of
doing it enters in and betrays us : a fool neither comes
nor goes, nor sits down, nor gets up, nor holds his
tongue, nor moves about in the same way as an in-
telligent man. (And this is, be it observed by way of
parenthesis, the explanation of that sure and certain
instinct which, according to Helvetius, ordinary folk
possess of discerning people of genius, and of getting
out of their way.)

The chief reason for this is that, the larger and more
developed the brain, and the thinner, in relation to it,
the spine and nerves, the greater is the intellect ; and
not the intellect alone, but at the same time the
mobility and pliancy of all the limbs ; because the
brain controls them more immediately and resolutely ;
so that everything hangs more upon a single thread,
every movement of which gives a precise expression
to its purpose. This is analogous to, nay, is immedi-
ately connected with the fact that the higher an
animal stands in the scale of development, the easier
it becomes to kill it by wounding a single spot. Take,
for example, batrachia : they are slow, cumbrous and
sluggisn in their movements ; they are unintelligent,
and, at the same time, extremely tenacious of life ;
the reason of which is that with a very small brain,
their spine and nerves are very thick. Now gait and
movement of the arms are mainly functions of the
brain ; our limbs receive their motion and every little
modification of it from the brain through the medium
of the spine. This is why conscious movements
fatigue us ; the sensation of fatigue, like that of pain,

PHYSIOGNOMY.

lias its seat in the brain, not, as people commonly
suppose, in the limbs themselves ; hence motion in-
duces sleep. On the other hand those motions which
are not excited by the brain, that is, the unconscious
movements of organic life, of the heart, of the lungs,
etc., go on in their course without producing fatigue.
And as thought equally with motion is a function of
the brain, the character of the brain's activity is
expressed equally in both, according to the constitu-
tion of the individual ; stupid people move like lay-
figures, while every joint of an intelligent man is
eloquent. But gesture and movement are not. nearly
so good an index of intellectual qualities as the face,
the shape and size of the brain, the contraction and
movement of the features, and above all the eye, from
the small, dull, dead-looking eye of a pig up through
all gradations to the irradiating, flashing eyes of a
genius. The look of good sense and prudence, even
of the best kind, differs from that of genius, in that
the former bears the stamp of subjection to the will,
while the latter is free from it. And therefore one
can well believe the anecdote told by Squarmfichi in
his life of Petrarch, and taken from Joseph Brivius, a
contemporary of the poet, how once at the court of the
Visconti, when Petrarch and other noblemen and
gentlemen were present, Galeazzo Visconti told his
son, who was then a mere boy (he was afterwards
first Duke of Milan), to pick out the wisest of the
company ; how the boy looked at them all for a little,
and then took Petrarch by the hand and led him up
\o his father, to the great admiration of all present.
For so clearly does nature set the r rnark of her dignity

PHYSIOGNOMY.

85

on the privileged among mankind that even a child
can discern it. Therefore I should advise my sagaci-
ous countrymen, if ever again they wish to trumpet
about for thirty years a very commonplace person as
a great genius, not to choose for the purpose such
a beerhouse-keeper physiognomy as was possessed
by that philosopher, upon whose face nature had
written, in her clearest characters, the familiar inscrip-
tion, "commonplace person."

But what applies to intellectual capacity will not
apply to moral qualities, to character. It is more
difficult to discern its physiognomy, because, being of
a metaphysical nature, it lies incomparably deeper. It
is true that moral character is also connected with
the constitution, with the organism, but not so im-
mediately or in such direct connection with definite
parts of its system as is intellectual capacity. Hence
while everyone makes a show of his intelligence and
endeavours to exhibit it at every opportunity, as
something with which he is in general quite con-
tented, few expose their moral qualities freely, and
tnost people intentionally cover them up ; and long
practice makes the concealment perfect. In the mean-
time,* as I explained above, wicked thoughts and
worthless efforts gradually set their mark upon the
face, especially the eyes. So that, judging by phy-
siognomy, it is easy to warrant that a given man will
never produce an immortal work; but not that he will
never commit a great crime.

PSYCHOLOGICAL

OBSERVATIONS.

Hfr

PSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.

FOE every animal, and more especially for man, a
certain conformity and proportion between the Bill
and the intellect is necessary for existing or making
any progress in the world. The more precise and
correct the proportion" which nature establishes, the
more easy, safe and agreeable will be the passage
through the world. Still, if the right point is only
approximately reached, it will be enough to ward off
destruction. There are, then, certain limits within
which the said proportion may vary, and yet preserve
a correct standard of conformity. The normal
standard is as follows. The jbjeci of the intellect is
to light and lead the will on its path, and tlefefore,
the greater the force, impetus and passion, which spurs
*on the will from within, the more complete and
luminous must be the intellect which is attached to it,
that* the vehement strife of the will, the glow of
passion, and the intensity of the emotions, may not
lead man astray, or urge him on to ill considered,
false or ruinous action ; this will, inevitably, be the
result, if the will is very violent and the intellect very
weak. On the other hand, a phlegmatic character, a
weak and languid will, can get on and hold its own
with a small amount of intellect; what is naturally
moderate needs only moderate support, The general

PSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.

tendency of a want of proportion between the will
and the intellect, in other words, of any variation from
the normal proportion I have mentioned, is to produce
unhappiness, whether it be that the will is greater
than the intellect, or the intellect greater than the will.
I Especially is this the case whenjhji intellect is de-
^velgpedjjo an abnormal degree of strength andsuperi-
-fority, so as to be out of all proportion to the will, a
Condition which is the essence of real^^geni^ ; the in-

ifcellect is then not only more than enough for the
needs and aims of life, it is absolutely prejudicial to
| them. The result is that, in youth, excessive energy
in grasping the objective world, accompanied by a
vivid imagination and a total lack of experience,
makes the mind susceptible, and an easy prey to ex-
travagant ideas, nay, even to chimeras ; and this
issues in an eccentric and phantastic character. And
when, in laier years, this state of mind yields and
passes away under the teaching of experience, still the
genius never feels himself at home in the common
world of every day and the ordinary business of life
hejwiU never take his place in it, and accommodate
himself to it as accurately as, the person ""of normal
intellect; he witnBe much more likely to make ctJHous
* mistakes. For the ordinary mind feels itself so com-
pletely at home in the narrow circle of its ideas and
views of the world that no one can get the better of
it in that sphere; its faculties remain true to their
original purpose, viz., to promote the service of the
will; it devotes itself steadfastly to this end, and
^. abjures e:^^wagant aims. The ggalu3> on the other
, -*--7^bottom a monstrum p<$f ewcesswm ; just as,

PSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS. 91

conversely, the passionate, violent and unintelligent
man, the brainless barbarian, is a monstrum per de-
Rectum.

The will to live, which forms the inmost core of
every living being, exhibits itself most conspicuously
in the higher order of animals, that is, the cleverer
ones ; and so in them the nature of the will may be
seen and examined most clearly. For in the lower
orders its activity is not so evident ; it has a lower
degree of objectivation; whereas, in the class which
stands above the higher order of animals, that is, in
men, r^a^on enters in ; and with reasqa.cpmes discre-
.AioiV & n( l ^th discretion, the capacity for dissimula-
tion, which throws a veil over the operations of the
wjIL And in mankind, consequently, the will appears
without its mask only in the affections and the
passioas And this is the reason wFy passion, when
it speaks, always wins credence, no matter what the
passion may be ; and rightly so. For the same
reason the passions are the main theme of poets and
tUe stalking horse of actors. The conspicuousness of
the wLm|tetew animals explains tue,jd-

light we take in do^s, apes, cats, etc.; it is the entirely
naive way in which they express themselves that 1
gives us so much pleasure.

The sight of any free animal going about its business
undisturbed, seeking its food, or looking after its
young, or mixing in the company of its kind, all the
time being exactly what it ought to be and can be,
what a strange pleasure itjgjyesjis^! Even if it is
a bird, I can watch it for a long time witji de-

92 PSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.

light ;' or a water rat or a hedgehog ; or better still, a
^weasel, a deer, or a stag. The main reason why .we
take so much pleasure in looking at animals is that we
like to see our own nature in such a simplified form.
There is only one mendacious beingjn the ^^S^JSO^-
th"aOs inaa,' Every "other is true "aricT sincere, and

makes no* attempt T^onceajjw^ it is, expressing^its

feelings just as they,, are.

"*""" ' " "# * * *

Many things are put down to the J!ojrce of habit
which are rather to be attributed to the constancy
and immutability of prigina], innate character, accord-
ing to which under like circumstances we always do
the same thing: whether it happens for the first or
the hundredth time, it is in virtue of the same necessity.
Real force of habit, as a matter of fact, rests upon that
indolent, passive disposition which seeks to relieve the
intellect and the will of a fresh choice, and so makes
us do what we did yesterday and have done a hundred
times before, and of which we know that it will attain
its object.

But the truth of the matter lies deeper, and a mwe
precise explanation of it can be given than appears at
first sight. Bodies which may be moved by meghanical
means only are subject to the power of ingrtia ; and
applied to bodies which may be acted on by motives,
this power becomes the force of ha,bit. The actions
we perform by mere habit come about, in fact,
without any individual separate motive brought into
play for the particular case: hence, in performing them,
we really do not think about them. A motive was pre-
sent only on the first few occasions on which the action

PSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.

93

happened, winch has since become a habit : the sec-
ondary after-effect of this motive is the present habit,
and it is sufficient to enable the action to continue :
just as when a body has been set in motion by a ptash,
it requires no more pushing in order to continue its
motion ; it will go on to all eternity, if it meets with
no friction. It is the same in the case of animals:
training is a habit which is forced upon them. The
horse goes on drawing his cart quite contentedly, with-
out having to be urged on : the motion is the continued
effect of those strokes of the whip which urged him on
at first: by the law of inertia they have become per-t
pctuated as habit All this is really more than a merol
parable : it is the underlying identity of the will atl
very different degrees of its objectivation, in virtue off
which the same law of motion takes such different*
forms.

Vive muchos a/Hos is the ordinary greeting in Spain,
and all over the earth it is quite customary to wish
people a long life. It is presumably not a knowledge
of life which directs such a wish ; it is rather know-
ledge of what man is in his inmost nature, the will to live.

Th<!? wish which everyone has that he may be
remembered after his death, a wiah which rises to
the longing for posthurnom^lo^ in the case of those
whose aims are high, seems to me to spring from thjys
clinging to lifix When TEe time comes which cuts a
matt off "from every possibility of real existence, he
strives after a life which is still attainable, even 1
though it be a shadowy and ideal one.

94

PSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.

The deep grief we feel at the loss of a friend arises
from the feeling that in every individual there is
something which no words can express, something
which is peculiarly his own and therefore irreparable?
Omne individuum ine/abUe.

* * * *

We may come to look upon the death of our enemies
and adversaries, even long after it has occurred with
just as much regret as we feel for that of our friends,
viz, when we miss them as witnesses of our brilliant
success.

* * *

j That th l sudden announcement of a veryhappy
jeventmay easily prove fafaTrests up7S*'tlefocTthIt
ihappiness and misery depend merely on the proportion
i which our claims bear to what we get. Accordingly
;the good things we possess, or are certain of getting
are not felt to be such ; because all pleasure is in fact!
?i i - a -^%tiye.nature.and ...effects' % relii"' of pain
while pain or evil is what is really positive ; it is The
object of immediate sensation. With the possession
or certain expectation of good things our demand
Tises and increases our capacity for further possession
;and larger expectations. But if we are depressed by
continual misfortune, and our claims reduced to a
minimum, the sudden .advent . of happiness finda.
c |E2L^Jo L ,OJPying..it. Neutralised by an absence
of pre-existing claims, its effects are apparently
positive, and so itsj^hoje JOTCA is. .brought inL play ;
hence it may possibly break our feelings,^ be fetal
to them. And so, as is well known, jjnemust be care-

IU,J[ 1T\, QTkTlfvTl't"* nt-n /^ ^.-___J_ ?_ ^***** ! ^!!I!S^^^ ^*

PSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATION'S.

95

get the person to hope for it, then open up the pros-
pect of it, then communicate part of it, and at last
make it fully known. Every portion of the good
news loses its efficacy, because it is anticipated by a
demand, and room is left for an increase in it. In
view of all this, it may be said that our stomach for
good fortune is bottomless, but the entrance to it is
narrow. These remarks are not applicable to great *
misfortunes in the same way. They are more seldom
fatal, because hope always sets itself against them.
That an analogous part is not played by fear in the
case of happiness results from the fact that we are
instinctively more inclined to hope than to fear; just
as our eyes turn of themselves towards light rather
fchan darkness.

* * * *

Horo^is the result of confusing the desire that
something should take place with the probability that
Lt will. Perhaps no man is free from this folly of the
heart, which deranges the intellect's correct apprecia-
bion of probability to such an extent that, if the
Shances are a thousand to one against it, yet the
3 vent is thought a likely one. Still in spite of this, a
suddeji misfortune is like a death-stroke, whilst a hope
}hat is always disappointed and still never dies, is
ike death by prolonged torture.

He who has lost all hope has also lost all fear ; this
.8 the meaning of the expression " desperate." It is
latural to a man to believe what he wishes to be
jrue, and to believe it because he wishes it. If this
characteristic of our nature, at once beneficial and
tssuaging, is roofed out by many hard blows of fate,

9(5

JPSYCHOLOGtCAL OBSERVATIONS.

and a man comes, conversely, to a condition in which
lie believes a thing must happen because he does not
wish it, and what he wishes to happen can never be,
just because he wishes it, this is in reality the stato
described as " desperation."

That we are so often deceived in others is not
because our judgaient is at.fault, but because in
general, as Bacon says, intellectus luminis sicci nan
est, sed recipit infusionem a voluntate et affectibus :
that is to say, trifles unconsciously bias us for or
against a person from the very beginning. It may
also be explained by our not abiding by the qualities
which we really discover; we go on to conclude the
presence of others which we think inseparable from
them, or. the absence of those which we consider
incompatible. For instance, when we perceive
generosity, we frffer* justice ; from piety, we infer
honesty ; from lying, deception ; from, deception,
stealing, etc; a procedure which opens the door to
many false views, partly because human nature is so
strange, partly because our stand-point is so one-
sided. It is true, indeed, that character always forms
a consistent and connected whole ; but the rd^ts of
all its qualities lie too deep to allow of our concluding
from particular data in a given case whether certain
qualities can or cannot exist together.

##-*-#

We often happen to say things that may in some
way or other be prejudicial to us ; but we keep
silent about things that might make us look ridiculous ;

PSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS. 97

because in this case effect follows very quickly on
cause.

The pain of an unfulfilled wish is small in compari-
son with that of repentance ; for the one stands in
the presence of the vast open future, whilst the other
has the irrevocable past closed behind it.

* * * *

Geduld, patientia, patience, especially the Spanish
sufrimiento, is strongly connected with the notion of
suffering. It is therefore a passive state, just as the
opposite is an active state of the mind, with which,
when great, patience is incompatible. It is the innate
virtue of phlegmatic, indolent, and spiritless people,
as also of women. But that it is nevertheless so very
useful and necessary is a sign that the world is very
badly constituted.

* # * #

Money is human happiness in the abstract : he,
then, who is no longer capable of enjoying human
happiness in the concrete, devotes his heart entirely

to money.

* * * *

Obstinacy is the result of the will forcing itself
into the place of the inte lect.

If you want to find out your real opinion of anj-
one, observe the impression made upon you By the
fir&t sight yf & letter from him.

* * * *

The course of our individual life and the events in
it, as far 6&s their true meaning and connection is

PSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.

concerned, may be compared to a piece of rough mosaic.
So long as you stand close in front o it, yon cannot get
a right view of the objects presented, nor perceive
their significance or beauty. Both come in sight only
, when you stand a little way off. And in the same
' way you often understand the true connection of iin-
; portant events in your life not while they are going on
nor soon after they are past, but only a considerable
time afterwards.

Is this so, because we require the magnifying effect
of imagination ? or because we can get a general view
only from a distance ? or because the school of experi-
ence makes our judgment ripe ? Perhaps all of these
together : but it is certain that we often view in the
right light the actions of others, and occasionally even
our own, only after the lapse of years. And as it is
in one's own life, so it is in history.

* * * ' *

Happy circumstances in life are like certain groups
of w trees v Seen from a distance they look very well:
but go up to them and amongst them, and the beauty
vanishes ; you don't know where it can be ; it is <Mily
trees you see. And so it is that we often envy the.
lot of others.

* * * *
The <j2St r s ^s all the wmk^s

the wickedness, the theologian all the
'"'

A person of phlegmatic disposition who is a block-
head, would, with a sanguine nature, be a fool.

PSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.

Now and then one learns something, but one forgets
the whole day long.

Moreover our memory is like a sieve, the holes oi
which in time get larger and larger : the older we
get, the quicker anything entrusted to it slips froir
the memory, whereas, what was fixed fast in it ir
early days is there still. The memory of an old mar
gets clearer and clearer, the further it goes back, anc
less clear the nearer it approaches the present time
so that his memory, like his eyes, becomes long-sighted.

In the process of learning you may be apprehen-
sive about bewildering and confusing the memory,
but not about overloading it, in the strict sense of the
word. . The faculty for remembering is not diminished
in proportion to what one has learnt, just as little as
the number of moulds in which you cast sand, lessens
its capacity for being cast in new moulds. In this
sense the memory is bottomless. And yet the greater
and more various anyone's knowledge, the longer he
takes to find out anything that may suddenly be
asKed him ; because he is like a shopkeeper who has
to get the article wanted from a large and multifari-
ous store ; or, more strictly speaking, because out of
many possible trains of thought he has to recall
exactly that one which, as a result of previous train-
ing, leads to the matter in question. For the memory
is not a repository of tilings you wish to preserve, but
a mere dexterity of the intellectual powers; hence
the mind always. contains its sum of knowledge only
potentially, never actually.

It sometimes happens that my memory will not

100

PSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.

reproduce some word in a foreign language, or a name,
or some artistic expression, although I know it very
well. After I have bothered myself in vain about it
for a longer or a shorter time, I give up thinking
about it altogether. -An hour or two afterwards, in
rare cases even later still, sometimes only after four
or five weeks, the word I was trying to recall occurs to
me while I am thinking of something else, as suddenly
as if some one had whispered it to me. After noticing
this phenomenon with wonder for very many years, I
have come to think that the probable explanation of
it is as follows. After the troublesome and unsuccess-
ful search, my will retains its craving to know the
word, and so sets a watch for it in the intellect. Later
on, in the course and play of thought, some
word by chance occurs having the same initial letters
or some other resemblance to the word which is
sought; then the sentinel springs forward and supplies
what is wanting to make up the word, seizes it, and
suddenly brings it up in triumph, without my knowing
where and how he got it ; so it seerns as if some one
had whispered it to me. It is the same process &s
that adopted by a teacher towards a child who cannot
repeat a word; the teacher just suggests tke first
letter of the word, or even the second too ; then the
child remembers it. In default of this process, you
can end by going methodically through all th letters
of the alphabet.

* * # ^

In the ordinary man, injustice rouses a passionate
desire for vengeance ; and it has often been said that
vengeance is sweet How many sacrifices have been.

1

PSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.

made just to enjoy the feeling of vengeance, without
any intention of causing an amount of injury equiva-
lent to what one has suffered. The bitter death of
the centaur Nessus was sweetened by the certainty
that he had used his last moments to work out an
extremely clever vengeance. Walter Scott expresses
the same human inclination in language as true as it
is strong: "Vengeance is the sweetest morsel to the
mouth that ever was cooked in hell!" I shall no w
attempt a psychological explanation of it.

Suffering winch falls to our lot in the course of
nature, or by chance, or fate, does not, ceteris paribus,
seem so painful as suffering which is inflicted on us
by the arbitrary will of another. This is because we
look upon nature and chance as the fundamental
masters of the world ; we see that the blow we re-
ceived from them might just as well have fallen on
another. In the case of suffering which springs from
this source, we bewail the common lot of humanity
rather than our own misfortune. But that it is the
arbitrary will of another which inflicts the suffering,
is a peculiarly bitter addition to the pain or injury it
causes, viz., the. consciousness that some one else is
superior to us, whether by force or cunning, while we
lie helpless. If amends are possible, amends heal the
injury; but that bitter addition, "and it was you who
did that to me/' which is often more painful than the
injury itself, is only to be neutralised by vengeance.
By inflicting injury on the one who has injured us,
whether we do it by force or cunning, is to show our
superiority to him, and to annul the proof of his
superiority to us That gives our hearts the satis-

102

PSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.

faction towards which it yearns. So where there is a
great deal of pride or vanity, there also will there be
a great desire o vengeance. But as the fulfilment of
every wish brings with It more or less of a sense of
disappointment, so it is with vengeance. The delight
we hope to get from it is mostly embittered by com-
passion. Vengeance taken will often tear the heart
and torment the conscience: the motive to it is no
longer active, and what remains is the evidence of our
malice.

THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM.

THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM,

WHEN the Church Rays that, in the dogmas of/

religion, reason is totally incompetent and blind, and'
its use to be reprehended, it is in reality attesting 1 tha
fact that those dogmas are allegorical in their nature*,
and are not to be judged by tho standard which
reason, taking all things SCMSU proprio, can alono,
apply. Now the absurdities of a clogma^r^ just the*
mark and sign of what is allegorical and mythical in
it. In the ease under consideration, however, tho
absurdities spring from the fact that two, such hotero( *>
gen0ous ,, doctrines as those of the""Dld,,,*and New Testjt-I i
rncnis had to be combined. The great allegory waff
of gradual growth. "Suggested by external and
adventitious circumstances, it was developed by tho
interpretation put upon them, an interpretation in
quiet touch with certain deep-lying truths only half
realised. Tho allegory was iinally completed by
Augustine, who penetrated deepest into its meaning,
and "so" was able to conceive it as a systematic whole
and supply its defects. Hence the August! man doc-
trine, confirmed ..,by..,.,LEfch ( -^ ^_tho complete* form off
Christianity ; and the Protestants of to-day, who tako'
Revelation sensu proprio and confine it to j&juijg
mdivjdual, are in error in looking upon thn first
beginnings of (.Il}nst5anifcy as ...its most perfect ex*

.V

106 THE cH&tsTiAtf SYSTEM.

pression. But the bad thing about all religions is
that, instead of being able to confess their allegorical
nature, they have to conceal it; accordingly, they
parade their doctrines in all seriousness as true sensu
*proprio, and as absurdities form an essential part of
these doctrines, you have the great mischief of a con-
tinual fraud. And, what is worse, the day arrives
when they are no longer true sensu proprio, and then
there is an end of them ; so that, in that respect, it

_ _ But tlie difficulty Is to teachTlTe multitude that

1 something can be both true and untrue at the same
time. And as all religions are in a greater or less
degree of this nature, we must recognise the fact that
,, V njf^^ of

^ Vi ^ a ^ absurdity is an element in its existence,

?W I and Jllusion indispensable; as JiiLdeed, other. Aspects of
uifejestify.

said that the combination of the OM

, l^lmong 5ie examples wHich illustrate what I mean, 1
' l ^ay cite the Christian dqctrine of Predestination and f
Ohjace, as formulated by AugusJme and^adopted^f rona
Efm by Luther; according to which one m^n is
endowed with grace and another is not. Gmcj^^hen,
comes to be a privilege received at birth anoorouglit
ready into the world ; a privilege, too, in a matter
.second to none in importance. What i$ obnoxious
arid absurd in this doctrine may be traced to tKe Idea
contained in the Old Testament, that man is the
creation of an external will, which called him into
existence out ofTpftiug. It is quite true that

THE

SYSTEM.

107

genuine moral excellence is really innate; but the
meaning of the Christian doctrine is expressed in
another and more ^rational way by the theory of
metem^^l^is, common to Brahmans and Buddhists. I \
According to this theory, the qualities which distin-/
guish one man from another are received at birth, are! |
brought, that is to say, from another world and a| j
former life; these qualities are j^t_an , ; ,<^ter&al ,gif 4 f
ofgrace, but are the fruits of the acts committee! 1
in that other world. JJoi^ Augustine's dogma of Pre-f
destination is connectecTwith another dogma, namely,!
that the mass^ of humanity is corrupt End doomed to!
eternal^^damnatlon, that very few will be found
righteous and attain salvation, and that only in '
consequence of the gift of grace, and because they I
are predestined to be saved ; whilst the remainder will )
be overwhelmed by the perdition they have deserved, \
viz., eternal torment in hell. Taken in its ordinary
meg/ping, the ^Si2llSJ^^^ffi^|2X ^ comes to this ;

perhaps, scarcely

ifcondemns a

twenty years of age, to expiate his errors, or even his
unbelief, in everlasting torment ; nay, more, it makes
this almost universal damnation the natural effect of
H therefore the necessary consequence
orthe Fall, This is a result which must have been
foreseen by him who made mankind, and who, in the
first place, made them not better than they are, and
secondly, set a tajpfor them into which he must have
known they would fall ; for he made the whole
world, and nothing is hidden from him. According
^tJb^, doctrine, then, God created
weak M xce proqp to sin, in order to

THfe CHRISTIAN SYSTEM.

\

|endless torment. And, as a last characteristic, we are
/told that this God, who prescribes forbearance f and
[ forgiveness oFTiverjr fault, exercises none hijnself, but
I doesTEe exact opposite ; for a punishment which
* comes at tfie ehS. of all things, when the world is over
and done with, cannot have for its object either to
improve or deter, and is therefore pure vengeance.
3o that, on this view, the whole race is actually

|(create3^ the only exception

[being those few persons who are rescued by election
of grace, from what motive one does not know.

Patting these aside, itjx>pks,as if the Blessed Lord

had created the world for ^ the benefit of the deyjl ! it

I would have been so much better not tcTEave made it

I at all. So much, then, for a dogma taken sensu

proprio. But lopk atot sen$u alleqorico, and the

. .. ..*"**" i i V " *'#* * ~ .

wnole matter ^become^caj^able or^a^satj^mctoryj^tBjp""
jpretation., What is absurd and revolting in this
dogma is, in the main, as I said, the simple outcome of
Jewish theism, with its " creation out of nothing," anc^
the reaUj^foolish and paradoxical denial of the doctrine
" ' " ""'which is mvoived in that xclea, a

natural, to a "certain extent* self-
evident, and, with tSe^iception of the Jews, %<?Q0p4d

3}e human r^b lt at all times. To
remove the enormous evil arising from Augustine's
xiogma, and to modify its revolting nature, Pope
Gregory. I, in the sixth century, very prudently
matured the doctrine of ^^3^2^y> the essence of
which already existed in On^^^f. Bayle's article on
Origen, note B.). The doctrine was regularly incor-

THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM.

109

porated into the faith of the Church, so that the
original view was much modified, and t a certain
substitute provided for the doctrine of metempsy-
.,chosis ; for both the one and the other admit a process

n. To the same end, the ^

f all things "

was estab-

lished, according to which, in the last act of the
Human Comedy, the sinners one and all will be
reinstated in integrum. Itisjonlj^JPiroJestants, with
their obstinate belief in"*ffieBible, ^^ j^nnokJDe
ii53;u^Tlfco^ve*up "oternaTpimishment in hell. If one

---^^ ,*,. " VJ , ^ \ *>,*, <*>**> ", JIT* *'* **** .

were spitetul, one might say, " much good may it dc
bhem," but it is consoling to think that they really do
not believe the doctrine; they leave it alone, thinking
in their hearts, " It can't be so bad as all that."

The rigid and systematic character of his mind led
Augusjjigp, in his austere dogmatism and his resolute
definition of doctrines only just indicated in the
Bible and, as a matter of fact, resting on very vague
grounds, to give hard outlines to these doctrines and
to put a harsh construct!^ : the resuli

of which j^TISfflrTiis views offend ..... us, and just as in
his day Pelagianism arose to combat them, so now
in ou^ clay Rationalism does the same. Take, for
example, the case as he states it generally in the Dj^
Qi/vitate Dei. Bk. xii. ch. 21. It comes to this : Ckid
out of nothing, forbids him

things, and enjoins others upon him ; and because *
these commands are not obeyed, he tortures him to all *
eternity with every conceivable anguish ; and for this*
purpose, binds soul and body inseparably together, so f
that, instead of the torment destroying this being by 4

110

THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM.

splitting him up into his elements, and so setting him

free, he may live to eternal pain. This poor creature,

formed out of nothing! At least, he has a claim on

his original nothing : lie should be assured, as a matter

of right, of this last retreat, which, in any case, cannot

be a very evil one: it is what he has inherited. I, at any

;rate, cannot help sympathising with him. If you add

J to this Augustine's remaining doctrines, that all this

' does not depend on the man's own sins and omissions,

-, but was already predestined to happen, one really is

i at a loss what to think. Our highly educated Ration-

alists say, to be sure, " It's '"all false, it's a mere

bugbear; we're in a state of constant progress, step

by step raising ourselves to ever greater perfection,"

Ah ! what a pity we didn't begin sooner ; we should

Already be there.

_ described as-, -abso-

lutely good, wise and powerful; and unless he were
'counterbalanced by the devil, it would be impossible
, to see where the innumerable and measureless evilS,
which predominate in the world, come from, if there
/were no devil to account for them. And sin^e the
, SS awa y with tho w ,$yU, the

inflicted "biTthe otEer side has gone on grow-
ing, and is becoming more and more palpable; as might
have been foreseen, and was foreseen, by the orthodox.
The fact is, you cannot take away one pillar from a

1 building without endangering the rest of it. And this
confirms the view, which has been established on other
frrouBSsTthat TJehovah is a transformation of
% *w , % m ' v , , , w ^ w *- ,+ i "

THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM.

Ill

and Satan^of the Ahriinan who must be taken in con- f
nection with Rim. Ormuzd himself is a transformation f
of Indra.

Christianity has this peculiar disadvantage, that,
unlike other religions, it is not a pure system of
doctrine : its chief and essential feature is that it is a %
history, a series of events, a collection of facts, a
statement of the actions and sufferings of individuals :
it is this history which constitutes dogma, and belief
in it is salvation. Other religions, Buddhism, for
instance, have, it is true, historical appendages, the
life, namely, of their founders : this, however, is not
part and parcel of the dogma, but is taken along with
it. For example, the LalUavis^ara may be compared
with the Gospel so far as it contains the life of,
Sal^a-muni ? the Buddha of the present period of thei
world's history: but this is something which is quite?
separate and different from the dogma, from the system
itself : and for this reason; the lives of former Buddhas
were quite other, and those^of the future will be quite
*)ther, than the life of the Buddha of to-day. The
dogma is by no means one with the career of its
founder ; it dgg^j^^^
events; it is something^ un^ 61 * 8 ^ wdl
at alH&CQ& The Lahfevisiara is not, tJtien, a gospel
Htn-tbe Christian sense of the word; it is not the joyful
message of an act of redemption; it is the career of
him who has shown how each one may redeem him-
self. The!
tfee<

THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM.

I may mention here another fundamental error of
Christianity, an error which cannot be explained
away"and the mischievous consequences of which are
obvious every day: I mean the unnatural distinctly
IChristianity makes betwecn^man and Jhe ,.,annaj
' ^^T^whTch "Tiie"rcallj belongs. It sets up man as
^oiant, ' anT"iookPnpon animals as merely
things. Brahmanism and Buddhism, on the other
hand true to the facts, recognise in a positive way
that mauTTrdated generally to the whole of nature,
anTlpecialTy and principally to animal nature ; and
in~"their systems man is always represented, by the
theory of metempsychosis and otherwise, as closely
connected-w?th""thrSnTmal world. The important
part played by animals all through Buddlusm,and
Brahmanism, compared with the total disregard of
tiwnTSTudaism and Christianity, puts an end to
any question as to which system is nearer ,rfirJEfidaoa.
however much we in Europe may have become ac-
ustomel to the gsurdity_ of Jhgdaim. Chmtiwity
contain^ in fact, a great and" essential imperfection, iji
Kiuiting its precepts to'raan^and in refusing rights to
{the entire animal world." As religion f ailn to protect
iammals against the rough, unfeeling and often .more
( ithan bestial multitude, the duty falls to the police ;
\jand as the police are unequal to the task, socujiigaJpr
I the protection of animals are now formed all .over
^Europe and" America. "In the whole of uncireumcfeed
' ! AMarsuck a procedure would be the most superfluous
thing in the world, because animate are there suffi-
ciently protected by religion, which even makes thorn
object's" 6? cLarify^~How such charitable feelings boar

THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM.

113

f/ 1

fruifc may be seen, to take an example, in the great
hospital ^OT^^^^S J^t^^Surat, 'whither Christians,
Jfolmmme3ans and Jews can send their sick beasts,
which, if cured, are very rightly not restored to their
owners. In the same way, when a Brahman or Bud-
dhist has a slice of good luck, a happy issue in any
affair, instead of mumbling a Te Deum, he goes to the
market-place and buys birds and opens their cages at
the city gate ; a thing which may be frequently seen
in Astrachan, where the adherents of every religion
meet together : and so on in a hundred similar ways.

^hand, look at the
w

which our Christian public treats its animals :

"^;-;~^;-;^PIil|^^ t ^ VUfJm y mgf!l ^ mvevl!ltllf ^f0^^^ f '

killing them for no object at all, and laughing over it,
or mutilating or torturing them : even its horses, who
form its most direct means of livelihood, are strained
to the utmost in their old age, and the last strength
worked out of their poor bones until they succumb at
last under the whip. One might say with truth, !
Mankind are the devils of the earth, and the animals |y
the souls they torment. But what can you expect
from the masses, when there are

zoologists even, who, instead of admitting what is so
familiar to them, the essential identity of man and
animal, are bigoted and stupid enough to offer a
zealous opposition to their honest and rational col-
leagues, when they class man under the proper head
as an animal, or demonstrate the resemblance between
him and the chimpanzee or ourung-outang. It is a
revolting thing that a writer who is so pious and
Christian in his sentiments as Jung Stilling should
use a simile like this, in his Scenen am dem

THE CHB1S1TAN SYSTEM.

\

reich. (Bk. II sc. i., p. 15.) "Suddenly the skeleton
shrivelled up into an indescribably hideous and dwarf-
like form, just as when you bring a large spider into
the focus of a burning glass, and watch the purulent
blood hiss and bubble in the heat/ 1 This man of
God then was guilty of such infamy ! or looked on
quietly when another was committing it ! in either
case it comes to the same tiling here. So little harm
did he think of it that he tells us of it in passing, and
without a trace of emotion. Such _ar^ the effects of
thjJIrst .chapter of Genesis, and, in factual tho wJiolp
>fj;he Jewish, The standard

is the Maha-

vakya (the great word), " taCtwam-asi," (this is thy-
self), which may always belJpoken of every animal, to
jeep us in mind of the i^entityjof^his inmost being
with ours. If Perfection of morality, indeed!

* " /

The f undameiiJiL J3 . ,

jreligon are realism anfl^.jQptimigm, views of the world
which are closely allied; tEeyTorm, in fact, the con*
ditions of theism. For theism looks upon the material
world as absolutely real, and regards life as a pleasant
gift bestowed upon us. On the other hand, the
Ijmdamental characteristics * of 'thef TBr^man^ jaajl
Buddhist* religions are idealism and pessimism, which

r-...,.,^.*,^^,^^^ (ZaswwawiwM, ^tf f , i, *> **>< '*** * J

look upon the existence *6F te world as in the nature
of a dnsam, and life as the result of our sins. In the

^ I *^ e JP e ^ m iiMLJBlgDQ^

I r6presen\}^TBy "S^^^a. In Judaism. Ahriman has

I? * - **,wi i .**f , ^Kvgm^^am^immHmi,

THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM.

115

as Satan only a subordinate position; but likes
Ahrunan, he is the lord of sna kes, scorpions, and verj/
mm. But the Jewish system forthwith employs Satan I
to correct its fundamental error of optimism, and i i! I
a the element of pessimism, a doci,/
y the most obvious" facts of the}
There is no truer idea in Judaism than this 7
although it transfers to the course of existence what
must be represented as its foundation and antecedent
lh &fefe&!BSfc on the other hand, must be id
some wa/ traceable to an Indian.jiou.rce : its ethica
system, its ascetic view of mraalityYit^essimism and
its Avatar, are all thoroughly Indian. It is it
morality which places it in a position of' such emphatic
and essential antagonism to the Old Testament, so that
the story of the Fall is the only possible .point of
connection between the two. For when the Indian
doctrine was imported into the land 'of promise 'tw^
V 5 di %e nt * hin gs had to be conlbmedTon the^ne"
hand the consciousness of the corruption and misery
of the world, its need of deliverance and salvation
thr OHgiian. Avatar, together with a morality based on
self-denial and" repentance; on the other hand the
Jewish* doctrine of Monotheism, with its corollary that
" all things are very good," (Wvra K <A.a Afw.) And the f .
task succeeded as far as it could, as far, that is, as it!
was possible to combine tw^sj}cjyiej^g^

"*""' """

As ivy clings for the support and stay it wants to a
rough-hewn post, everywhere conforming to its
irregularities and showing their outline, but at the
same time covering them with life and grace, and

116

THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM.

I changing the former aspect into one that is pleasing
i to the eye ; so

wisdom of India, overspread^ the, old

***"^?'''-'2f >, (Jm s ' I- >' * ' ^

the original form

must in part remain, but it suffers a complete change
and becomes full of life and truth, so that it appears
to be the same tree, but is really another.

Judaism, hadregresented the Creator as separated

"E^ nothing.

Identifies this Creator with the Saviour,

and through him, with humanity : he stands as their
representative ; thjgjaxe redeemed in him, just as they
fell in Adam, and have lain"ever since in the bonds of
iniquity, corruption, suffering and death. Suchjs the
view taken by Christianity in common with Buddhism i
thT^rld can no longer be looked at in the light of
"Jewish optimism, which found " all things very good : "
nay, in the Christian scheme, the devil is named as its
Prince or Ruler, (o apxv rdv Koo-pov TO-UTO-U. John. 12,
33X The world is no longer aixend, but a means :

' 'v^ i- tmmmmvi^miiw^w $"iM sir* 1 * TBPr***""-TM*t w^'/ , ^g ^ c * r '

and the reaTmrfeverlastinff iov HesTOyondjt and t^0

w-B8 ^^p l w^i^www^^H > ^ sw tT ^^J^* fe ' rV ( , T* ; " ' (

grave. Kesignation in this world and direction of all
our hopes to a better form the spirit of Christianity.
The way to this end is opened by the jy^Qmcxit, that
is, the Redemption from this world and its ways
| And in the moral system, instead of the law of ven-
!geance, there is the command to love^ypur enmy ;
I instead of the promise of innumerable posterity, the

| assurance o^tg^^^Ufe ; instead of visiting the sins
I of the fathers upon the children to the third and
I fourth generations, the Holj w Spirit which over-
jshadows all.

THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM.

117

We see, then, that the

LCJaJled and i

L so that, in the most important and essen- *
tial matters, an agreement is brought aboiit between
thern, and the 6lcT religions of India. Everything

J^m^^.^M^^^y,,^ <*' " . i *rj<1Hpgr*f!! ,

wluchjs^true in Cmistianity maalso
Brahmamsm

But in Hinduism and
Buddhism you will look in vain for any parallel to
the Jewish doctrines of "a nothing quickened into
life," or of " a world made in time," which cannot be
humble enough in its thanks and praises to Jehovah
for an ephemeral existence full of misery, anguish and
need.

\

Whoever seriously thinks that superhuman beings
have ever given our race information as to the aim of
its existence and that of the world, is still in his child-
hood Therejs ao other, r^^^^^than the ,thougljls| i
O^^B^^^^ even though^^^thoughts, liable tor '
error as is the lot of everything human, are often!
clothed in strange allegories and myths under the name!
*of religion. So far, then, it is a matter of indifference!
whether a man lives and dies in reliance on his own or
another's thoughts; for it is never more than human
thot%ht, human opinion, which he trusts. Still, instead
of trusting what their own minds tell them, men have
as a rule a weakness for trusting others who pretend
to supernatural sources of knowledge. And in view*j

of the enormous, intellectual inequality betw&ea^m^nl ,

,,*.'"*" * m *"*** "*" -*''''"*'""*""'"' m ^ | i/

and man, it is easy to see that the thoughts of onei /
min2*might appear as in some sense a revelation to
another, . . >f t ,*'"*"

THE

FAILURE OF PHILOSOPHY:

A BRIEF DIALOGUE.

THE FAILURE OF PHILOSOPHY:

A BRIEF DIALOGUE.

A. PHILOSOPHY has hithgrto been a failure. It

could not, Indeed, have been otherwise ; because,
instead of confining himself to tho better under-
standing of tho world an given in experience, the
philosopher has aspired to pass at one bound beyond
it, in the hope of discovering tho last foundation of
all existence and the eternal relations of things.
Now these arc matters which our intellect is quite :
incapable of grasping. Its power of comprehension.
never roaches beyond what philosophers call " finite
things/' or, as they sometimes say, " phenomena ;" in
short, just tho fleeting shadows of this world, and the
interests of the individual, tho furtherance of his aims
and tho maintenance of his person* And since our
intellect is thus immanent, our philosophy whould be
inftnanent too, and not. soar to aupriunundano things,
but be content with gaining a thorough grasp of the
world of experience. It surely provides matter

enough for such a "Study.

S. If that is so, intellect is a miserable present for

Nature to give ua According to your view, tho
mind serves only to grasp the relations that constitute
our wretched existence* OH individuals relations
which yrith the brief spiwi of our temporal life ;

122

TIIE FAILURE OF PHILOSOPHY,

V

>

and is utterly unsulted to face those problems which
are alone worthy to interest a thinking being what
our existence really is, and what the world means as

whole ; in short, how we are to solve the riddle of
ihis dream of life. If all this is so, and our mind
ld never grasp these things even though they were
explained to it, then I cannot see that it is worth my
while to educate my mind, or to pay any attention to
ft at all ; it is a thing unworthy of any respect

A. My dear sir, if we wrangle with Nature, we are
usually in the wrong. For Nature, does nothing tht
is useless or in vain nihil facit fi^ustra nee auperva*
canewn,. We are only temporal, finite, fleeting beings,
creatures of a dream : and our existence passes away
like a shadow. What do we want with an intellect
to grasp things that are infinite, eternal, absolute ?
And how should such an intellect ever leave the
consideration of these high matters to apply itself
again to the small facts of our ephemeral life- the
facts that are the only realities for us and our proper
concern? How could it ever be of any use for them
again ? If Nature had bestowed this intellect upon
us, the gift would not only have been an immense
mistake and quite in vain ; it would even have c*n-
| flicted with the very aims that Nature has designed
| for us. For what good do we do, as Shakespeare

says,

We fook of Nature,
So horridly to slmke our disposition
With thoughts "beymid the Teaches ofowrsmd. 1

If wo had this perfect, this all embracing, meta-
1 Jlamtet, I., Sc. 4,

THE FAILURE OF PHILOSOPHY.

123

physical insight, should we be capable of any physical
insight at all, or of going about our proper business ?
Nay, it might plunge us for ever into a state of chill
horror, like that of one who has seen a ghost.

jB. But surely in all this you are making a notorious
petitio principii., In saying that we are merely
temporal, fleeting, finite beings, you beg the whole
question. We are also infinite, eternal, and thp
original principle of Nature itselt Is it not then well
worth our while to go on trying if we cannot fathom
Nature after all 06 nicht JWatur zulet&k sich dock
ergrunde ?

A. Yes ; but according to your own philosophy we
are infinite and eternal only in a certain sense. We
are infinite and eternal, not as phenomena, but as the
original principle of Nature ; not as individuals, but
as the inmost essence of the world ; not because we
are subjects of knowledge, but merely as manifesta-
tions of the will to live. The qualities of which you
speak are qualities' that have to do with intelligence,
not will As intelligent beings we are individual and
^finite. Our intellect, then, is also of this character.
The aim of our life, if I may use a metaphorical
expression, is a practical, not a theoretical one ; our
actions, not our knowledge, appertain to eternity.
The use of the intellect is to guido our actions, and at
the same time to hold up the mirror to our will ; and
this is, in effect, what it does. If the intellect had
more to do, it would very probably become unfit even
for this. Think how a small superfluity of intellect
is a bar to the career of the man endowed with it
the oase of genius : while it may b an inward

124

THE FAILURE OF PHILOSOPHY.

1

blessing to its possessor, it may also make him very
unhappy in his relations with the world. 1

jB. Good, that you reminded me of genius. To
some extent it upsets the facts you are trying to
vindicate. A genius is a man whose theoretical side >
enormously outweighs his practical. Even though he
cannot grasp eternal relations, he can see a little j
deeper into the things of this world; attamen estl
quodam prodire tenus. It is quite true that thisi
does render the intellect of genius less fit to grasp the.
' finite things of earth ; just as a telescope is a good* ,
thing, but not in a theatre. Here we seern to have,
reached a point where we agree, and we need not 1
pursue the subject further.

1 Translator's Note. This Is a favourite remark of Schopen-
hauer's. Some account of his interesting theory of Genius
touched upon at the conclusion of this dialogue may be found
in the concluding section of another volume in the series,
The Art of LUerutwe.

THE

METAPHYSICS OF FINE ART.

THE METAPHYSICS OF FINE ART.

THE real problem in the philosophy of Art may be
very simply stated thus: How is it possible to take
pleasure in something that does not corne into any
relation with the will ?

Let me put this more fully. It is commonly felt
that pleasure and enjoyment in a thing can ari.se only
when it comes into some relation with our will, or, as
we prefer to say, when it serves some end which we
have in view. If this were so, it would seem to be a
contradiction to talk of pleasure which did not in-
volve bringing the will into play. And yet it is quite
obvious that we derive pleasure and enjoyment from
the Beautiful as such, quite apart from any connection
it may have with our personal aims, or, in other
words, with our will.

This problem I have solved in the following way :
By tke Beautiful we mean the essential and original!
forms of animate and inanimate Nature in Platonic f
language, the Ideas; and these can be apprehended!
only by their essential correlate, a knowing subject
free from will; in other words, a pure intelligence |
without purpose or ends in view. Hence in the act j
of aesthetic perception the will has absolutely no place
in consciousness. But it is the will alone which is the
fount of all bur sorrows and sufferings, and if it thus

128

THE METAPHYSICS OF FINE ART.

vanishes from consciousness, the whole possibility o
1 suffering is taken away. This it is that explains the
feeling of pleasure which accompanies the perception
of the Beautiful.

If it should be objected that to take away the
possibility of suffering is also to take away the possi-
bility of enjoyment, it should be remembered that, as
I have often explained, happiness and satisfaction are
negative in their nature; in other words, they are
| merely freedom from suffering ; whilst pain is the
1 positive element of existence. So that, when will
vanishes from consciousness, there yet remains over
the state of enjoyment ; that is to say, the state in
which there is a complete absence, not only of pain,
but in this case, even of the very possibility of it.

To be freed from oneself is what is meant by
becoming a pure intelligence. It consists in forget- 1
fulness of one's own aims and complete absorption in 1
the object of contemplation ; so that all wo are con-
scious of is this one object. And since this is a state
of mind unattainable by most men, they are, as a rule,
unfitted for an objective attitude towards the world yl
and it is just this that constitutes the artistic faculty. \
To the will as it exists in the individual is super-
added an intellectual faculty, which enables the will
to become conscious of itself and of the objects about
it. This intellectual faculty came into being in order
to perform the service of the will. Now, let us
suppose that the will sets the intellect at liberty for a
, while and grants it a full release from its service, so
that the intellect may for the moment dismiss its
concern for the will; in other words, abandon tlio

THE ilHTAPHYSICS OF FINE ART. 129

personal service which forms its only natural task
and, therefore, its regular occupation. If, at the same
time that it is thus released, the intellect does not
cease to be active and , energetic,' and use every en-
deavour to arrive at a clear apprehension of the
world, it becomes completely objective; that is to say
it becomes a faithful mirror of the things about it '
It is only in this way, with a pure intelligence as
subject, that the object, pure and simple, can come
into existence. For this postulated relation between
subject and object to arise at all, it is necessary thaf
the intellectual faculty should not only be withdrawn
lts original service and be left altogether to
itself, but also that, when released, it should never-
theless preserve its whole energy of activity; in spite
of the fact that the stimulus of this activity, the im-
pulse of the will, is now absent. *
Therein lies the difficulty, and this is just why the
condition of mind necessary in artistic creation is so
rare ; because all our thoughts and Endeavours, our
powers of sight and hearing, are always naturally
exerted, directly or indirectly, in the service of our
numerous personal aims, great and small. It is the
will fihat drives the intellect to the fulfilment of its
function, and the intellect flags at once if the spur is
\ withdrawn. Rendered active in this way, the intellect
I is perfectly sufficient for the needs of practical life,
\t nay, even for the kind of knowledge required in
professional business. For there the aim is to under-
stand onlyjhe relations of things, not the inner reality
peculiar to them; and this "kind of knowledge" pro-
ceeds by applying such principles of reasoning as

130 THE METAPHYSICS OF FINE A,

govern the relations in which things
one another.

But though in the conception of a w<
} intellect is $11 in all, in the execution o
aim is to ^communicate and represent TO
conceived, the will may, nay, must 1
again ; just because there is an aim to b
Accordingly, in this sphere, the principle
which govern the relations of things ag^
play. It is in conformity with these ]
the means used by Art are so contrived
artistic effects. Thus we find the pain
with the accuracy of his drawing and i
tion of his colours, and the poet lookir
arrangement of his subject and then to
expression and the laws of metre.

In the selection of a theme, both pa
plastic arts take some one individual pi
and endeavour to present it as a separat
all its peculiarities, even down to the
hibited with the most accurate precision
the other hand, works by the treatmea
ideas, everyone of them representing-
individuals ; and it proceeds to define
the characteristics of these ideas, so as to
for all. A comparison between these
might lead one to suppose that Art is an
petty, nay, almost childish pursuit. Bi
of Art is such that with it one case hoi
i thousand ; for by a careful and detailed p
a single individual person or thing, it aim
the idea of the genus to which that pel

THE METAPHYSICS OF FINE ART.

131

belongs. Thus some one event or scene in the life of
a man, described with complete truth described, that
is to say, so as to exhibit precisely all the individuals
winch go to make it what it is gives us a clear and
profound insight into the idea of humanity itself, as
seen from this particular point of view. But, in spite
of this difference of method between Science and
Art, there is some similarity in their treatment of
single facts. For just as the botanist picks a single
flower from the boundless realm of the vegetable
world, and then takes it to pieces in order to demon-
strate, from the single specimen, the nature of the
plant itself; so the poet chooses out of the endless
turmoil of human life as it hurries incessantly on its
way, some one scene, nay, often only some one mood,
some one sensation, so that he may show us from it
what is the life and character of man.

And thus it is that the greatest minds, Shakespeare)
and Goethe, Raphael and Rembrandt, do not think itl
unworthy of them to bring some quite ordinary person
before us not even one that is anything beyond the
m common to delineate him with the greatest accuracy,
in the endeavour to show him to us in the most
mi%ute particularity. For it is only when they are put
I before us in this way that we can apprehend individual
\ and particular facts of life ; and that is why I have
defined poetry as the art of rousing the imagination |
by means of words. '

If the reader wishes for a direct example of the
advantage which intuitive knowledge the primary
and fundamental kind has over abstract thought, as
showing that Art reveals to us more than we can gain

132

THE METAPHYSICS OF FINE ART.

from all the sciences, let him look at a beautiful

i human face, full of expressive emotion ; and that too

whether in nature itself or as presented to us by the

mediation of Art. How much deeper is the insight

gained into the essential character of man, nay, into

nature in general, by this sight than by all the words

and abstract expressions which may be used to

, 'describe it. When a beautiful face beams with

laughter, it is as though a fine landscape were

suddenly illuminated by a ray of light darting from

; the clouds. Therefore ridete, puellce, ridete !

Let me here state the general reason why the idea,

in the Platonic meaning of the word, may be more

easily apprehended from a picture than from reality;

I in other language, why a picture makes a nearer ap-

I proach to the idea. A work of art is some objective

reality as it appears after it has passed through a

subject. From this point of view, it may be said to

bear the same relation to the mind as animal food,

which is vegetable food already assimilated, bears to

the body.

But there is another and deeper reason for the fact
in question. The product of plastic and pictorial art
does not present us, as reality does, with something
that exists once only and then is gone for ever the
connection, I mean, between this particular matter and
this particular form. It is this connection which is *
the essence of any concrete individuality, in the strict
sense of the word. This kind of art shows us the j
form alone; and this, if it were given in its H/ whole r i
entirety, would be the Idea. The picture, therefore,
leads us at once from the individual to the mere form j

THE METAPHYSICS OF FINE ART.

and this separation of the form from the matter brings
the form very much nearer the Idea! Now every
artistic representation, whether painting or statue, is
just such a separation; and hence this separation,
this disjunction of the form from the matter, is part \
of the character of a work of aesthetic art, because it 1
is just the aim of such art to bring us to the know-
ledge of the Idea.

It is, therefore, essential to a work of art that it
should give the form alone without the matter; andj
further, that it should do so without any possibility

J of mistake on the part of the spectator. This is really
the reason why wax figures produce no aesthetic im-
pression, and therefore are not, in the aesthetic sense,
works of art at all; although, if they were well made,
they produce an illusion a hundred times greater than
the best picture or statue* could effect; so that if
deceptive imitation of reality were the object of art,
they would have to take the first place. For a wax
figure of a man appears to give not only the mere

*form but with it the matter as well, so that it pro-
duces the illusion that the man himself is standing
before you. The true work of art should lead us
from the individual fact, in other words, that which
exists once only, and then is gone for ever, to the'

mere form or the Idea in other words, that which!
always exists an infinite number of times in an in-
finite number of ways. Instead of doing this, the'
wax figure appears to present us with the individual
himself in other words, with that which exists once
only, and then never again ; and yet, at the same time, *
it fails to repretent the life whioh gives such a fleeting

134 THE METAPHYSICS OF FINE ART.

existence its value. This is why a wax figure is re-
pulsive; it is stiff and stark, and reminds us of a
corpse.

It might be 'thought that it is sculpture alone which
gives form without matter ; and that painting gives
matter as well as form, by making colour serve to
imitate matter and its composition. But this objection
Would imply that form is to be taken in a purely

^ geometrical sense ; and that is not what is here meant.
Form must be taken in the philosophical sense of the
word, as the opposite of matter ; and therefore it in-
cludes colour, surface, texture; in short, quality, in
whatever it may consist. It is quite true that sculp-
ture alone gives form in the purely geometrical sense,
exhibiting it on a matter which the eye can see to be

^foreign to the form, namely, 'marble ; and in this way
the form comes to stand *by itself so as to strike the
eye at once.

But painting does not give matter at all, and it
gives only the mere appearance of the form, not in

I the geometrical, but in the philosophical, sense just a
described. Painting, I say, does not give even the form
itself, but only the mere appearance of it that is to
say, merely its effect on one of our senses, the sense
of sight ; and that, too, only in so far as ^-particular
act of vision is concerned. This is why a picture in
oils does not really produce the illusion that the thing
represented is actually before us, both in form and

* matter. The imitative truth of a picture is always

subordinated tcTcertain admitted conditions of this

I method of representation. Thus, by the unavoidable

suppression of the ^parallax of our twe eyes, a picture

ft

THE METAPHYSICS OF FINE ABT.

135

always makes things appear in the way in which a
one-eyed person would see them. Therefore painting,
equally with sculpture, gives the form alone ; for it
presents nothing but the effect of the form an effect
confined to one of the senses only, namefy, that of
sight.

In connection with this subject it is to be observed
that copper-plates and monochromes answer to a more
noble and elevated taste than chromographs and water-
colours ; while the latter are preferred by persons of
little culture. This is obviously due to the fact that,
pictures in black and white give the form alone, the
form, as it were, in the abstract ; and the apprehension
of this is, as we know, intellectual, in other words, a
matter of the intuitive understanding. Colour, on the
other hand, is merely an affair of sense, nay more, of a
particular arrangement in the organ of sight which
depends upon the activity of the retina. In respect
of the taste to which they appeal, coloured prints may
; be likened to rhymed, and copper-plates to blank,
verse. 1 The union of beauty and grace in the human^
* form is the clearest manifestation of the will on the j
topmost stage of its objectivation, and for that very
reaion the highest achievement of the plastic and
pictorial arts. But still, everything that is natural is
beautiful. If there are some animals of which we
find a difficulty in believing this to be true, the reason
of it is that we are unable to look at them in a purely |
objective light, so as to apprehend their Idea. We are^
prevented from doing so by some unavoidable associa-
tion of thought, chiefly the result of some similarity
* 01 Wdt ah Wttk <wid Vorstellwig, Vol. II., p. 488,

136 fHE METAPHYSICS * Otf FINE ART.

which forces itself upon our notice ; as, for instance,
the similarity of the ape with man ; so that instead of
apprehending the idea of an ape, what we see is the
caricature of a man. In the same way a toad appears
to produce an effect upon us similar to that of dirt
and slime, and yet this is not enough to explain the
unbounded aversion, nay, the feeling of dread and
horror, which comes over some people at the sight of
this animal, as over others when they see a spider.
The feeling appears to be deeper than any mere
association can explain, and to be traceable to some

* mysterious fact of a metaphysical nature.

The inorganic world, so far as it does not consist of

^ mere water, produces a very sad, nay, an oppressive
effect upon the feelings, whenever it is presented to
us quite by itself. Examples of what I mean are
afforded by districts which offer to the eye nothing
but a mass of bare crags ; that long valley of rocks,
for instance, without a trace of vegetation, near
Toulon, on the way to Marseilles. The same effect is
produced on a large scale, and in a much more striking
degree, by the African desert. The melancholy im- *
pression which this kind of scenery makes is mainly
doe to the fact that masses of inorganic matter gbey

\ onalaw only, the law of gravity; and consequently
\everything is disposed in accordance with it.

Contrarily, the sight of vegetation produces a feel-
ing of direct pleasure, and that too in a high degree ;
and the pleasure is greater in proportion as the
vegetation is rich, various, luxuriant, and left to itself.

1 The more immediate reason of this is that, in the case

\ of vegetation, the law of gravity appears to be over-

r

THE METAPHYSICS OF FINE ART.

corne, as the vegetable world tends to move in a
direction the exact contrary of that taken by gravity.
This is, indeed, the direct way in which the pheno-
menon of life announces its presence, as a new and
higher order of things. It is an order to which we
ourselves belong : it is something akin to us and the
element of our being. And so, at the sight of it, our
heart is moved. That straight upward direction is
the source of our pleasurable feeling. This is why a
fine group of trees looks so much better if a few tall,
tapering pines shoot out from the middle of it. On
the other hand, a tree that has been cut "down has lost
all its effect upon us : and one that grows obliquely
has not so much as one that stands straight up.
A tree which bcncls over the earth with its branches
obedient to the law of gravity, makes us melancholy ;
and we call it the weeping 'willow.

Water neutralises in a great measure the oppressive
effect of its Inorganic composition by its exceeding
mobility, which gives it an appearance of life, and
also by its constant interplay of light and shade.
Besides, water is absolutely indispensable for the ex-
istence o life..

jput above and beyond this, the pleasurable feeling
which the sight of vegetable nature gives us, comes
from that look of rest,*peace and satisfaction which it
wears ; whilst the animal world is mostly presented to
us in a state of unrest, pain, even of struggle. This
explains why it is so easy for the sight of vegetation
to put us into a state where we become a pure in-
telligence, freed from ourselves.

It is a very astonishing thing that vegetation, even

138

THE METAPHYSICS OF FINE ART.

of the commonest and humblest kind, is no sooner
withdrawn from the capricious influence of man than
it straightway groups itself picturesquely and strikes
the eye as beautiful This is true of every little spot \
of earth that has been left wild and uncultivated, ;
even though thistles, thorns and the commonest
flowers of the field were all it bore. Where the ground
is tilled in cornfields, for instance, and kitchen-
gardens, the aesthetic element in the vegetable world
sinks to a minimum.

It has long been observed that everything con-
structed for the use o man, whether it is a building
or only an utensil, must, if it is to be beautiful, preserve
a certain similarity with the works of Nature. But a
mistake has been made in thinking that the similarity
must directly strike the eye and have to do with
the shape the thing takes ; as, for instance, that pillars',
should represent trees or human limbs ; that ro- *
ceptacles should be shaped like mussels or snail-shells,
or the calyx of a flower, and that vegetable or animal
forms should be met with everywhere in Art. t

The similarity should be indirect ; that is to say, it
should lie not in the shape itself, but in its Character.
One shape may differ from another in actual appdEr-
ance and yet be the same in character. Accordingly, I
buildings and utensils should not bo imitated from I
Nature, but should be constructed in the ^spirit of
Nature. This will show itself in a 'perfect adaptation
of means to ends, so that the thing itself and every part
of it may directly proclaim what its purpose is. This
will be effected when that purpose is attained in the
shortest way and in the simplest manner. It is just

THE METAPHYSICS OF FINE ART.

139

tin's striking conformity to a certain end that stamps
the products of Nature,

In Nature the will works from within outwards,
after completely dominating its material. But in Art
it works from without, by a process of intuition ; it
may be, by setting up the abstract idea of the purpose
which the object of art is to serve ; it then attains its
end and delivers itself of its meaning by impressing
it upon some alien material; that is to say, some
material originally devoted to another form of will.
Yet for all that, the character I have described as be-
longing to a product of Nature may be preserved.
This m shown by the ancient style of architecture,
where every part or member is precisely suited to the
purpose it is immediately meant to serve a purpose
thus naively brought into view, and where there is a
total absence of anything that does not serve some
purpose.

To this is opposed that Gothic style, which owes its
myBterious appearance just to the multitude of aim-
less ornaments and accessories it displays, where we
are obliged to ascribe to them some purpose which we
cannot discern ; and again, that quite degenerate style
of architecture which affects originality by playing,
in all sorts of unnecessary and round about ways,
with the means used for producing artistic effect,
dallying capriciously with them, and at the same time
misunderstanding their aim,

The same remark holds good of ancient vessels and
utensils, the beauty of which is due to the fact that they
so naively express their nature, and the purpose they
were meant to serve ; and so of all other receptacles

140

THE METAPHYSICS OP FINK ABT.

made by the ancients. You feel in looking at them
that if Nature bad produced vases, amphorao, lamps,
tables, stools, helmets, shields, armour and so on, they
would be made in that style.

As regards the birth of a work of art in a man's
mind, if he is only in a susceptible mood, almost any
object that comes within his range of perception will '
begin to speak to him, in other words, will generate
in him some lively, penetrating, original thought. So
it is that a trivial event may become the seed of a
great and glorious work. Jacob Bohme is said to
have been enlightened upon some deep point of
natural science by the sudden sight of a tin can.

In the end it all depends upon the power a man has
in himself; and just as no food or medicine will
bestow or take the place of vital energy, so no book
or study can give a man a mind of his own.

fr- '

THE END.

f-

Cowan <& Co., limiUil, Printer^ Perth