It sometimes happens that my memory will not 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 unsuccessful 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 seems as if some one had whispered it to me. It is the same process

as that adopted by a teacher towards a child who cannot repeat a word;

the teacher just suggests the 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 the 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 made just to enjoy the feeling of vengeance, without any

intention of causing an amount of injury equivalent 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 now attempt a

psychological explanation of it.

Suffering which 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 received 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

neutralized 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 satisfaction towards which it yearns. So where

there is a great deal of pride and vanity, there also will there be a

great desire of vengeance. But as the fulfillment 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

compassion. 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.

When the Church says that, in the dogmas of religion, reason is totally

incompetent and blind, and its use to be reprehended, it is in reality

attesting the fact that these dogmas are allegorical in their nature,

and are not to be judged by the standard which reason, taking all things

_sensu proprio_, can alone apply. Now the absurdities of a dogma are

just the mark and sign of what is allegorical and mythical in it. In the

case under consideration, however, the absurdities spring from the fact

that two such heterogeneous doctrines as those of the Old and New

Testaments had to be combined. The great allegory was of gradual growth.

Suggested by external and adventitious circumstances, it was developed

by the interpretation put upon them, an interpretation in quiet touch

with certain deep-lying truths only half realized. The allegory was

finally 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 Augustinian doctrine, confirmed by Luther, is the

complete form of Christianity; and the Protestants of to-day, who take

Revelation _sensu proprio_ and confine it to a single individual, are in

error in looking upon the first beginnings of Christianity as its most

perfect expression. 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 doctrine in all seriousness

as true _sensu proprio_, and as absurdities form an essential part of

these doctrines, you have the great mischief of a continual 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

would be better to admit their allegorical nature at once. But the

difficulty is to teach the multitude that 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 recognize the fact that mankind cannot

get on without a certain amount of absurdity, that absurdity is an

element in its existence, and illusion indispensable; as indeed other

aspects of life testify. I have said that the combination of the Old

Testament with the New gives rise to absurdities. Among the examples

which illustrate what I mean, I may cite the Christian doctrine of

Predestination and Grace, as formulated by Augustine and adopted from

him by Luther; according to which one man is endowed with grace and

another is not. Grace, then, comes to be a privilege received at birth

and brought ready into the world; a privilege, too, in a matter second

to none in importance. What is obnoxious and absurd in this doctrine may

be traced to the idea contained in the Old Testament, that man is the

creation of an external will, which called him into existence out of

nothing. It is quite true that 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 metempsychosis, common to

Brahmans and Buddhists. According to this theory, the qualities which

distinguish one man from another are received at birth, are brought,

that is to say, from another world and a former life; these qualities

are not an external gift of grace, but are the fruits of the acts

committed in that other world. But Augustine's dogma of Predestination

is connected with another dogma, namely, that the mass of humanity is

corrupt and doomed to eternal damnation, that very few will be found

righteous and attain salvation, and that only in consequence of the gift

of grace, and because they 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 meaning, the dogma is

revolting, for it comes to this: it condemns a man, who may be, perhaps,

scarcely 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 original sin, and therefore

the necessary consequence of the 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 trap for them into

which he must have known they would fall; for he made the whole world,

and nothing is hidden from him. According to this doctrine, then, God

created out of nothing a weak race prone to sin, in order to give them

over to endless torment. And, as a last characteristic, we are told that

this God, who prescribes forbearance and forgiveness of every fault,

exercises none himself, but does the exact opposite; for a punishment

which comes at the end 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. So that, on this view, the whole race is

actually destined to eternal torture and damnation, and created

expressly for this end, the only exception being those few persons who

are rescued by election of grace, from what motive one does not know.

Putting these aside, it looks as if the Blessed Lord had created the

world for the benefit of the devil! it would have been so much better

not to have made it at all. So much, then, for a dogma taken _sensu

proprio_. But look at it _sensu allegorico_, and the whole matter

becomes capable of a satisfactory interpretation. 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," and really foolish

and paradoxical denial of the doctrine of metempsychosis which is

involved in that idea, a doctrine which is natural, to a certain extent

self-evident, and, with the exception of the Jews, accepted by nearly

the whole human race at all times. To remove the enormous evil arising

from Augustine's dogma, and to modify its revolting nature, Pope Gregory

I., in the sixth century, very prudently matured the doctrine of

_Purgatory_, the essence of which already existed in Origen (cf. Bayle's

article on Origen, note B.). The doctrine was regularly incorporated

into the faith of the Church, so that the original view was much

modified, and a certain substitute provided for the doctrine of

metempsychosis; for both the one and the other admit a process of

purification. To the same end, the doctrine of "the Restoration of all

things" [Greek: apokatastasis] was established, according to which, in

the last act of the Human Comedy, the sinners one and all will be

reinstated _in integrum_. It is only Protestants, with their obstinate

belief in the Bible, who cannot be induced to give up eternal punishment

in hell. If one were spiteful, one might say, "much good may it do

them," 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 Augustine, 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

construction on Christianity: the result of which is that his views

offend us, and just as in his day Pelagianism arose to combat them, so

now in our day Rationalism does the same. Take, for example, the case as

he states it generally in the _De Civitate Dei_, Bk. xii. ch. 21. It

comes to this: God creates a being out of nothing, forbids him some

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 that,

instead, of the torment destroying this being by 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: he 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 sympathizing with him. If

you add 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 at a loss what to think. Our highly educated

Rationalists 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 have been there.

In the Christian system the devil is a personage of the greatest

importance. God is described as absolutely 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

since the Rationalists have done away with the devil, the damage

inflicted on the other side has gone on growing, 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 building

without endangering the rest of it. And this confirms the view, which

has been established on other grounds, that Jehovah is a transformation

of Ormuzd, and Satan of the Ahriman who must be taken in connection with

him. Ormuzd himself is a transformation 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 Lalitavistara may be compared with the Gospel so far as it contains

the life of Sakya-muni, the Buddha of the present period of the 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 other, than the life of the Buddha of to-day. The dogma is by no

means one with the career of its founder; it does not rest on individual

persons or events; it is something universal and equally valid at all

times. The Lalitavistara is not, then, a gospel in the 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 himself. The

historical constitution of Christianity makes the Chinese laugh at

missionaries as story-tellers.

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 distinction

Christianity makes between man and the animal world to which he really

belongs. It sets up man as all-important, and looks upon animals as

merely things. Brahmanism and Buddhism, on the other hand, true to the

facts, recognize in a positive way that man is related generally to the

whole of nature, and specially and principally to animal nature; and in

their systems man is always represented by the theory of metempsychosis

and otherwise, as closely connected with the animal world. The important

part played by animals all through Buddhism and Brahmanism, compared

with the total disregard of them in Judaism and Christianity, puts an

end to any question as to which system is nearer perfection, however

much we in Europe may have become accustomed to the absurdity of the

claim. Christianity contains, in fact, a great and essential

imperfection in limiting its precepts to man, and in refusing rights to

the entire animal world. As religion fails to protect animals against

the rough, unfeeling and often more than bestial multitude, the duty

falls to the police; and as the police are unequal to the task,

societies for the protection of animals are now formed all over Europe

and America. In the whole of uncircumcised Asia, such a procedure would

be the most superfluous thing in the world, because animals are there

sufficiently protected by religion, which even makes them objects of

charity. How such charitable feelings bear fruit may be seen, to take an

example, in the great hospital for animals at Surat, whither Christians,

Mohammedans 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 a Buddhist 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. On the other hand, look

at the revolting ruffianism with which our Christian public treats its

animals; 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 the souls they torment. But what can you

expect from the masses, when there are men of education, 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 colleagues, when

they class man under the proper head as an animal, or demonstrate the

resemblance between him and the chimpanzee or ourang-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 aus dem Geisterreich_. (Bk. II. sc. i., p. 15.) "Suddenly the

skeleton shriveled 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." 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 thing here. So

little harm did he think of it that he tells us of it in passing, and

without a trace of emotion. Such are the effects of the first chapter of

Genesis, and, in fact, of the whole of the Jewish conception of nature.

The standard recognized by the Hindus and Buddhists is the Mahavakya

(the great word),--"tat-twam-asi" (this is thyself), which may always be

spoken of every animal, to keep us in mind of the identity of his inmost

being with ours. Perfection of morality, indeed! Nonsense.

The fundamental characteristics of the Jewish religion are realism and

optimism, views of the world which are closely allied; they form, in

fact, the conditions 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 fundamental characteristics of the Brahman

and Buddhist religions are idealism and pessimism, which look upon the

existence of the world as in the nature of a dream, and life as the

result of our sins. In the doctrines of the Zendavesta, from which, as

is well known, Judaism sprang, the pessimistic element is represented by

Ahriman. In Judaism, Ahriman has as Satan only a subordinate position;

but, like Ahriman, he is the lord of snakes, scorpions, and vermin. But

the Jewish system forthwith employs Satan to correct its fundamental

error of optimism, and in the _Fall_ introduces the element of

pessimism, a doctrine demanded by the most obvious facts of the world.

There is no truer idea in Judaism than this, although it transfers to

the course of existence what must be represented as its foundation and

antecedent.

The New Testament, on the other hand, must be in some way traceable to

an Indian source: its ethical system, its ascetic view of morality, its

pessimism, and its Avatar, are all thoroughly Indian. It is its 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, two very different things had to be

combined: on the one hand the consciousness of the corruption and misery

of the world, its need of deliverance and salvation through an 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" [Greek: panta kala lian]. And the task

succeeded as far as it could, as far, that is, as it was possible to

combine two such heterogeneous and antagonistic creeds.

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 changing the

former aspect into one that is pleasing to the eye; so the Christian

faith, sprung from the wisdom of India, overspreads the old trunk of

rude Judaism, a tree of alien growth; 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 had presented the Creator as separated from the world, which he

produced out of nothing. Christianity identifies this Creator with the

Saviour, and through him, with humanity: he stands as their

representative; they are redeemed in him, just as they fell in Adam, and

have lain ever since in the bonds of iniquity, corruption, suffering and

death. Such is the view taken by Christianity in common with Buddhism;

the world 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 ([Greek: ho archon tou

kosmoutoutou.] John 12, 33). The world is no longer an end, but a means:

and the realm of everlasting joy lies beyond it and the grave.

Resignation 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

Atonement, that is the Redemption from this world and its ways. And in

the moral system, instead of the law of vengeance, there is the command

to love your enemy; instead of the promise of innumerable posterity, the

assurance of eternal life; instead of visiting the sins of the fathers

upon the children to the third and fourth generations, the Holy Spirit

governs and overshadows all.

We see, then, that the doctrines of the Old Testament are rectified and

their meaning changed by those of the New, so that, in the most

important and essential matters, an agreement is brought about between

them and the old religions of India. Everything which is true in

Christianity may also be found in Brahmanism and Buddhism. 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 childhood. There is no other revelation than the thoughts

of the wise, even though these thoughts, liable to 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 thought, 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 of the enormous

intellectual inequality between man and man, it is easy to see that the

thoughts of one mind might appear as in some sense a revelation to

another.

The Essays of Arthur Schopenhauer; Religion, a Dialogue, Etc. · 第 6 / 6 段