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AND OTHER TALES

BT

VOLTAIRErF-..c.in• cc· H ,' . ~J ' ) ~ (1746-1767.)

A NEW TRANSLATION

. BY

ROBERT BRUCE BOSWELL, M.A., TIU..'(SUTOll 01' L\Cl!fE'8 DRAMATIC WOIU\S, f:TC.

LONDON

0 ~;ORGE BEU, AND SONS

1907 : :::. · .. . . .. ,·. l". ·' ,l .... ... I

THE STORY OF A GOOD BRAHMAN.

(1759.)

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THE STORY OF A GOOD BRAHMAN.

(1759.) .·

J ONCE met, when on my travels, a.n old Brahman, who wa.e e:r:Cleedingly .wise, full of native intelligence, and

profoundly learned; moreoTer, he wu rich, a.nd, in coue­quence, all the more correct in b.ia conduct, for, being in want of nothing, he bad no need to deceive a.uybody. Ria hou11ehold wa1 very well managed by three handsome wiTet who wd themeelvee out to pleue him; and, when he wu not enterta.in.ing himaelf with them, he waa engaged in studying philoeophy.

Near hie house, which waa & fine one eitua.t.ed in the midst of charming gardena, dwelt an old Hindoo woman, bigoted, half-witted, and extremely poor.

One day the Brahman Ba.id to me : ••Would that I had never been born! " I uked him what made him aay that, and he replied u

follow•: . "I etudied for forty yee.rs, and they are so many yean

wasted ; I have been tee.ching for the rest of my life, and I am ignorant of eTerything. This ata.te of things fills my t0ul with 1uch humilia.tion and d.isgu1t, that life is to me intolerable. I have been born into the world, l liTe 1ubject to the limitation• of time, and I know not what time is ; I find myself.on a point between two eterni­ties, u our sage. u.y, and I have no conception of et.ernity.

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346 VOLTAIRE'S TALES.

I am composed of matter, and I can think; yet I have neTer been able to satisfy myself as to what produces thought; I know not whether my undentanding is a. simple f.aculty within me, like the power of walking or of digesting food, and whether I think with my head in the same way as I gra.sp with my haoda. Not only is the essential nature of my powers of thoug~t unknown to me, but-that of my muscular movementa is equally obscure; I cannot tell why I exist; yet I am questioned eTery day on all these points, and I am obliged to make some answer. I have nothing to say worth hearing, but I am not spa.ring of my words, and, a.ft.er all baa been Ba.id, I remain con­fused a.nd a.shamed of myself.

"It is eTen wol'Be when people uk me if Brahma. was produced by Vishnu, or if they a.re both eternal. Heuen is my witness that I know nothing about the matter, a.a my answers only too pla.inly 1how. •Ah, reTerend father,' they aay, 'teach ua how it is that evil flood. the whole earth?' I am a.a much at a. loas as thoee who &sk me that question ; I tell them sometimes that all is well and could not be better, but thoee who ban been ruined and maimed in the wars do not believe a word of it, any more than I do myeelf. I retire into my own houae eruahed by the weight of my own ignorance and unsatisfied ooriosity. I read our ancient books, and they only make my Qa.rkneas greater. I speak to my compa.niona; some tell me in reply that we must enjoy life and laugh at. mankind ; others think that they know a secret that ex­pla.ina eTerything, and lose themsel..-e1 ma mar.e of extraT&­gant notiona. All tends to increa.ee the painful feeling of uncert.a.inty that poeeeaaee me; and I am ready sometimes to fall into despair, when I consider that, after a.11 mv 1nvestiga.tions, I know neither whence I come, nor what i: am, nor whither I go, nor what will become of me."

I was really pained at the state of this good soul; no

THE STORY 01' A GOOD BJU.IDUN. 347

one could be more r&tional than he was, nor more sincerely in earnest. I conceived that the brighter the light of his undentanding, and the keener the eemibility of hia heart, the gree.ter waa hia unhappineea.

The ame day I •w the old woman who lived in his neighbourhood, ud I uked her if 1he had eYer been di1-tre88ed at not knowing how her 10ul waa fonned. She did not enn comprehend my queetion; she had n&ver reflect.eel for a Bingle moment of her life on any one · of thoee point.a which tormented the Brahman; she belieTed in the inO&l'DAtion of Viahnu with all her heart, and pro. Tided she might 10metimea have a little water from "the Gange• with which to wuh herself, 1he deemed henelf the molt fortUD&te of women.

Struck with this poor cmi.ture'• happineH, I returned to my philosopher, and said:

" Are you not aah&med of being unhappy, whilst at your very gate there i1 an old automaton who thinks about nothing and lives contented i'"

" You a.re right," he &n1wered; "I have told myeelf a . hundred tim.ea that I 1hould be happy if I were aa lilly aa my neighbour, and yet eomehow I have no wish to att&i\t such happineu."

Thia reply of my Brahman impreeaed me more than anything elle. I eu.mined my own heart &nd dilooTered that, if I had the ofter, I 1hould not ha.ve wilhed, any more than be, to be happy at the expense of my intelligence· ' I referred the problem to eome philoeophera. and their

opinioD.1 were the a.me aa mine. " For all that," said I, " There ia a wild contradktion in

thia ma.nner of thinking; for, after all, wha.t is the ques­tion P-How to be happy. What doea it matter whether one is intelligent or Billy P Moreover, thoee who are con­tented with their exiltenoe a.re quite sure that they are ae, whereas those who exetciae their reason a.re bt ·no meana

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so certain tha.t they exerciee it aright. It is clea.r then," aaid I, " that we should be constrained to choose the loRB of reason. if reason contributes to onr unhappineBB in· however small a degree."

Everybody agreod with me in this opinion. and yet I found no one willing to aooept the bargain. when it waa a queation of purchaaing contentment at the price of becom­ing a fool. Hen<'.e I concluded tha.t if we aet a high value on happiness, we value reason even more.

But, after having reflected on this matter, ·it a.ppea.re to me that to prefer reuon to happiness is to be very een10-leBB. How can this oontradiotion be explained P Like all the othere,-whereon there is a. great dee.I to be Ba.id.

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