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.
In my The story of the good brahmin I once happened to meet with an aged Bramin. This man had a great share of understanding and prudence, and was very learned. He was also very rich, and his riches added greatly to his popularity; for, wanting nothing that wealth could procure, he had no desire to defraud any one.
His family was admirably managed by three handsome wives, who always studied to please him; and when he was weary of their society, he had recourse to the study of philosophy. Not far from his house, which was handsome, well-furnished and embellished with delightful gardens, dwelt an old Indian woman who was a great bigot, ignorant, and withall very poor.
While I teach others I know nothing myself. The sense of my condition is so humiliating, it makes all things so distasteful to me, that life has become a burden. I have been born, and I exist in time, without knowing what time is.
I am placed, as our wise men say, in the confines between two eternities, and yet I have no idea of eternity. I am composed of matter, I think, but have never been able to satisfy myself what it is that produces thought. I even am ignorant whether my understanding is a simple faculty I possess, like that of walking and digesting, or if I think with my head in the same manner as I take hold of a thing with my hands.
I am not only thus in the dark with relation to the principles of thought, but the principles of my motions are entirely unknown to me. I do not know why I exist, and yet I am applied to every day for a solution of the enigma.
I must return an answer, but can say nothing satisfactory on the the subject. I talk a great deal, and when I have done speaking remain confounded and ashamed of what I have said. God is my judge that I know nothing of the matter, as plainly appears by my answers.
Sometimes I tell them that every thing is for the best; but those who have the gout or the stone—those who have lost their fortunes or their limbs in the wars—believe as little of this assertion as I do myself.
I retire to my own house full of curiosity, and endeavor to enlighten my ignorance by consulting the writings of our ancient sages, but they only serve to bewilder me the more.
When I talk with my brethren upon this subject, some tell me we ought to make the most of life and laugh at the world. Others think they know something, and lose themselves in vain and chimerical hypotheses.
Every effort I make to solve the mystery adds to the load I feel. Sometimes I am ready to fall into despair when I reflect that, after all my researches, I neither know from whence I came, what I am, whither I shall go, or what is to become of me.
No one could be more rational, no one more open and honest. It appeared to me that the force of his understanding and the sensibility of his heart were the causes of his misery. The same day I had a conversation with the old woman, his neighbor.
I asked her if she had ever been unhappy for not understanding how her soul was made? She did not even comprehend my question. She had not, for the briefest moment in her life, had a thought about these subjects with which the good Bramin had so tormented himself.
She believed from the bottom of her heart in the metamorphoses of her god Vishnu, and, provided she could get some of the sacred water of the Ganges in which to make her ablutions, she thought herself the happiest of women. Struck with the happiness of this poor creature, I returned to my philosopher, whom I thus addressed: I consulted my own heart and found that I myself should not wish to be happy on condition of being ignorant.
I submitted this matter to some philosophers, and they were all of my opinion: Is it not to be happy? What signifies it then whether we have understandings or whether we are fools?
Besides, there is this to be said: It is evident then, I continued, that we ought rather to wish not to have common sense, if that common sense contributes to our being either miserable or wicked. They were all of my opinion, and yet not one of them could be found, to accept of happiness on the terms of being ignorant.Be the first to ask a question about Story of a Good Brahmin Lists with This Book.
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Dec 12, · The Story of A Good Brahmin [This is an interesting short story on philosophy written by Voltaire(), one of the great French writers. Travelling through India, I met an old gentleman of the highest caste, a Brahmin, a very wise man, witty and learned.
The Good Brahmin. DOES HAPPINESS RESULT FROM IGNORANCE OR FROM KNOWLEDGE? In my travels I once happened to meet with an aged Bramin. This man had a great share of understanding and prudence, and was very learned. Feb 24, · Re: The Story of The Good Brahmin This is the perfect philosophical question.
It requires one to form an opinion, or philosophy, on the basis of ambiguity due to complex variables. Voltaire. Story of a Good Brahmin. translated by H.
I. Woolf. For an introduction to Voltaire, check out one of the following: Voltaire: Author and Philosopher at LucidCafé.; The biographical sketch at Malaspina Great Books.; On my travels I met an old Brahmin, a very wise man, of marked intellect and great tranceformingnlp.comrmore, he was rich and .
Dec 12, · The Story of A Good Brahmin [This is an interesting short story on philosophy written by Voltaire(), one of the great French writers.
Travelling through India, I met an old gentleman of the highest caste, a Brahmin, a very wise man, witty and learned.