Voltaire: Story of a Good Brahmin
Voltaire (1694-1778) is one of the great French writers of the past. He is best known for his satire on Leibniz, Candide. This story is a very short masterpiece of his, dealing with the paradoxical choice between reason and happiness.
STORY OF A GOOD BRAHMIN
by Voltaire*
Travelling
through India, I met an old gentleman of the highest caste, a Brahmin, a very
wise man, witty and learned. On
top of that, he was rich, and consequently even wiser; for, lacking nothing, he had no need to
deceive anyone. His family was
well governed by three gorgeous wives who religiously studied the art of
pleasing him. When he was not busy
amusing himself with his wives, he philosophized.
His
house had charm and beauty, was well decorated, and was surrounded by colorful
and fruitful gardens. Nearby lived
an old Indian woman, bigoted, stupid, and quite poor.
The
Brahmin jolted me one day with this:
ÒI wish I had never been born.Ó
I asked him why, and he answered me:
ÒI
have been studying for forty years...and that is forty years wasted. I teach others, but actually I know
nothing. This situation makes me
feel so much humiliation and disgust with myself that life is unbearable to me.
ÒI
was born, I live in time, and I do not know what time is. I find myself at a point between two
eternities, as our sages say, and I have no idea of what eternity means. I am
made of matter, and I am able to think, yet I have never been able to find out
how thought is caused. I do not
know...Is my ability to think a simple faculty in me like that of walking, or
digesting food? Do I think with my
head, as I take with my hands? Not
only is the explanation of my thinking unknown to me, but how I am able to move
my body is also a great mystery.
ÒI
don't know why I exist. Every day
people ask me questions on all these points. I have to answer, but I have nothing worthwhile to say. I talk, talk, talk, and then I am
bewildered and ashamed of myself after all that hot air.
ÒIt
is even worse when they ask me whether Brahma was produced by Vishnu or whether
they are both eternal. Well, I
donÕt know a thing about it, and that's obvious in my pathetic answers. ÔReverend Father,Õ they say to me,
Ôexplain to us why evil floods the whole world.Õ
ÒI
am in as much of a fog as those who ask the question. Sometimes I tell them
that everything happens for the best, but those who have been destroyed and
mutilated by war don't believe that for a second, and neither do I.
ÒSo
I retreat to my house overwhelmed with my curiosity and my ignorance. I read our ancient books, and they make
the darkness even darker. I talk
with my friends. Some tell me that
we should just enjoy life and laugh at mankind. Others think they know a little something, and promptly get
lost in ridiculous, pompous, empty ideas. Everything increases my feelings of
doubt and misery. I am sometimes
ready to fall into despair, when I think that after all my dedication and
seeking I know neither where I come from, nor what I am, nor where I am going,
nor what shall become of me when this life is over.Ó
I
was greatly distressed by the mental condition of this good man. It seemed that
no one was any more reasonable or honest than he. I could see that the more he
came to understand, the more he came to feel, and consequently the more unhappy
he was.
That
same day I saw the old woman who lived near him. I asked her if she had ever been confused and upset not to
know how her soul was created. She
didn't even understand my question!
She had never pondered for a single moment of her life over a single one
of the points that tormented the Brahmin.
She believed with all her heart in the changing forms of the Lord
Vishnu, and, provided she could occasionally have some water from the Ganges to
wash in, she considered herself the happiest of all women.
I
was so amazed by the happiness and contentment of this impoverished creature,
that I returned to my Brahmin philosopher and said to him:
ÒAren't
you ashamed to be unhappy when right at your door there is an old puppet who
never bothers with thinking and who lives quite happily?Ó
ÒYou
are right,Ó he said; ÒI have told
myself a hundred times that I would be happy if I were as stupid as my
neighbor, and yet I would want no part of that kind of happiness.Ó
These
words of the Brahmin made a greater impression on me than all the rest. I questioned myself and saw that
certainly I would not want to be happy on condition of being ignorant.
I
put the question to some other philosophers, and they were of the same
opinion. ÒThere is, however,Ó I added, Òan enormous contradiction in
this way of thinking.Ó
For
after all, what is at issue here?
Being happy. What does it
really matter if you are intelligent or stupid? And what's more, those who are stupidly content with their
being are quite sure of being content;
those who philosophize and scrutizine and ponder and reason are never so
sure of reasoning well.
ÒClearly,Ó I said, Òwe should choose not to have good sense, if that good sense contributes to our misery.Ó
Everyone
agreed with me, and yet I found no one who wanted to accept the bargain of
becoming ignorant in order to become content. From this I concluded that though
we greatly value happiness, we place even greater value on reason.
But
yet, upon reflection, it seems that to prefer reason to happiness is to be
quite insane. How can this
contradiction be explained? Like
all the others...there is much to be said about it.
1. Who
would you rather be, the Good Brahmin or the old woman?
2. How
would you answer the Brahmin's philosophical questions?
3. How
would you resolve this final paradox?
Can you have both, reason and happiness? Or is ignorance the only way to preserve a state of bliss?
4. Compare
Socrates' attitude about philosophy with the Good Brahmin's attitude.