The Brothers Karamazov
wouldst have been dashed to pieces against that earth which Thou didst
come to save. And the wise spirit that tempted Thee would have
rejoiced. But I ask again, are there many like Thee? And couldst Thou
believe for one moment that men, too, could face such a temptation? Is
the nature of men such, that they can reject miracle, and at the great
moments of their life, the moments of their deepest, most agonizing
spiritual difficulties, cling only to the free verdict of the heart?
Oh, Thou didst know that Thy deed would be recorded in books, would be
handed down to remote times and the utmost ends of the earth, and Thou
didst hope that man, following Thee, would cling to God and not ask for
a miracle. But Thou didst not know that when man rejects miracle he
rejects God too; for man seeks not so much God as the miraculous. And
as man cannot bear to be without the miraculous, he will create new
miracles of his own for himself, and will worship deeds of sorcery and
witchcraft, though he might be a hundred times over a rebel, heretic
and infidel. Thou didst not come down from the Cross when they shouted
to Thee, mocking and reviling Thee, “Come down from the cross and we
will believe that Thou art He.” Thou didst not come down, for again
Thou wouldst not enslave man by a miracle, and didst crave faith given
freely, not based on miracle. Thou didst crave for free love and not
the base raptures of the slave before the might that has overawed him
for ever. But Thou didst think too highly of men therein, for they are
slaves, of course, though rebellious by nature. Look round and judge;
fifteen centuries have passed, look upon them. Whom hast Thou raised up
to Thyself? I swear, man is weaker and baser by nature than Thou hast
believed him! Can he, can he do what Thou didst? By showing him so much
respect, Thou didst, as it were, cease to feel for him, for Thou didst
ask far too much from him—Thou who hast loved him more than Thyself!
Respecting him less, Thou wouldst have asked less of him. That would
have been more like love, for his burden would have been lighter. He is
weak and vile. What though he is everywhere now rebelling against our
power, and proud of his rebellion? It is the pride of a child and a
schoolboy. They are little children rioting and barring out the teacher
at school. But their childish delight will end; it will cost them dear.
They will cast down temples and drench the earth with blood. But they
will see at last, the foolish children, that, though they are rebels,
they are impotent rebels, unable to keep up their own rebellion. Bathed
in their foolish tears, they will recognize at last that He who created
them rebels must have meant to mock at them. They will say this in
despair, and their utterance will be a blasphemy which will make them
more unhappy still, for man’s nature cannot bear blasphemy, and in the
end always avenges it on itself. And so unrest, confusion and
unhappiness—that is the present lot of man after Thou didst bear so
much for their freedom! The great prophet tells in vision and in image,
that he saw all those who took part in the first resurrection and that
there were of each tribe twelve thousand. But if there were so many of
them, they must have been not men but gods. They had borne Thy cross,
they had endured scores of years in the barren, hungry wilderness,
living upon locusts and roots—and Thou mayest indeed point with pride
at those children of freedom, of free love, of free and splendid
sacrifice for Thy name. But remember that they were only some
thousands; and what of the rest? And how are the other weak ones to
blame, because they could not endure what the strong have endured? How
is the weak soul to blame that it is unable to receive such terrible
gifts? Canst Thou have simply come to the elect and for the elect? But
if so, it is a mystery and we cannot understand it. And if it is a
mystery, we too have a right to preach a mystery, and to teach them
that it’s not the free judgment of their hearts, not love that matters,
but a mystery which they must follow blindly, even against their
conscience. So we have done. We have corrected Thy work and have
founded it upon _miracle_, _mystery_ and _authority_. And men rejoiced
that they were again led like sheep, and that the terrible gift that
had brought them such suffering was, at last, lifted from their hearts.
Were we right teaching them this? Speak! Did we not love mankind, so
meekly acknowledging their feebleness, lovingly lightening their
burden, and permitting their weak nature even sin with our sanction?
Why hast Thou come now to hinder us? And why dost Thou look silently
and searchingly at me with Thy mild eyes? Be angry. I don’t want Thy
love, for I love Thee not. And what use is it for me to hide anything
from Thee? Don’t I know to Whom I am speaking? All that I can say is
known to Thee already. And is it for me to conceal from Thee our
mystery? Perhaps it is Thy will to hear it from my lips. Listen, then.
We are not working with Thee, but with _him_—that is our mystery. It’s
long—eight centuries—since we have been on _his_ side and not on Thine.
Just eight centuries ago, we took from him what Thou didst reject with
scorn, that last gift he offered Thee, showing Thee all the kingdoms of
the earth. We took from him Rome and the sword of Cæsar, and proclaimed
ourselves sole rulers of the earth, though hitherto we have not been
able to complete our work. But whose fault is that? Oh, the work is
only beginning, but it has begun. It has long to await completion and
the earth has yet much to suffer, but we shall triumph and shall be
Cæsars, and then we shall plan the universal happiness of man. But Thou
mightest have taken even then the sword of Cæsar. Why didst Thou reject
that last gift? Hadst Thou accepted that last counsel of the mighty
spirit, Thou wouldst have accomplished all that man seeks on earth—that
is, some one to worship, some one to keep his conscience, and some
means of uniting all in one unanimous and harmonious ant-heap, for the
craving for universal unity is the third and last anguish of men.
Mankind as a whole has always striven to organize a universal state.
There have been many great nations with great histories, but the more
highly they were developed the more unhappy they were, for they felt
more acutely than other people the craving for world-wide union. The
great conquerors, Timours and Ghenghis-Khans, whirled like hurricanes
over the face of the earth striving to subdue its people, and they too
were but the unconscious expression of the same craving for universal
unity. Hadst Thou taken the world and Cæsar’s purple, Thou wouldst have
founded the universal state and have given universal peace. For who can
rule men if not he who holds their conscience and their bread in his
hands? We have taken the sword of Cæsar, and in taking it, of course,
have rejected Thee and followed _him_. Oh, ages are yet to come of the
confusion of free thought, of their science and cannibalism. For having
begun to build their tower of Babel without us, they will end, of
course, with cannibalism. But then the beast will crawl to us and lick
our feet and spatter them with tears of blood. And we shall sit upon
the beast and raise the cup, and on it will be written, “Mystery.” But
then, and only then, the reign of peace and happiness will come for
men. Thou art proud of Thine elect, but Thou hast only the elect, while
we give rest to all. And besides, how many of those elect, those mighty
ones who could become elect, have grown weary waiting for Thee, and
have transferred and will transfer the powers of their spirit and the
warmth of their heart to the other camp, and end by raising their
_free_ banner against Thee. Thou didst Thyself lift up that banner. But
with us all will be happy and will no more rebel nor destroy one
another as under Thy freedom. Oh, we shall persuade them that they will
only become free when they renounce their freedom to us and submit to
us. And shall we be right or shall we be lying? They will be convinced
that we are right, for they will remember the horrors of slavery and
confusion to which Thy freedom brought them. Freedom, free thought and
science, will lead them into such straits and will bring them face to
face with such marvels and insoluble mysteries, that some of them, the
fierce and rebellious, will destroy themselves, others, rebellious but
weak, will destroy one another, while the rest, weak and unhappy, will
crawl fawning to our feet and whine to us: “Yes, you were right, you
alone possess His mystery, and we come back to you, save us from
ourselves!”
“‘Receiving bread from us, they will see clearly that we take the
bread made by their hands from them, to give it to them, without any
miracle. They will see that we do not change the stones to bread, but
in truth they will be more thankful for taking it from our hands than
for the bread itself! For they will remember only too well that in old
days, without our help, even the bread they made turned to stones in
their hands, while since they have come back to us, the very stones
have turned to bread in their hands. Too, too well will they know the
value of complete submission! And until men know that, they will be
unhappy. Who is most to blame for their not knowing it?—speak! Who
scattered the flock and sent it astray on unknown paths? But the flock
will come together again and will submit once more, and then it will be
once for all. Then we shall give them the quiet humble happiness of
weak creatures such as they are by nature. Oh, we shall persuade them
at last not to be proud, for Thou didst lift them up and thereby taught
them to be proud. We shall show them that they are weak, that they are
only pitiful children, but that childlike happiness is the sweetest of
all. They will become timid and will look to us and huddle close to us
in fear, as chicks to the hen. They will marvel at us and will be
awe-stricken before us, and will be proud at our being so powerful and
clever, that we have been able to subdue such a turbulent flock of
thousands of millions. They will tremble impotently before our wrath,
their minds will grow fearful, they will be quick to shed tears like
women and children, but they will be just as ready at a sign from us to
pass to laughter and rejoicing, to happy mirth and childish song. Yes,
we shall set them to work, but in their leisure hours we shall make
their life like a child’s game, with children’s songs and innocent
dance. Oh, we shall allow them even sin, they are weak and helpless,
and they will love us like children because we allow them to sin. We
shall tell them that every sin will be expiated, if it is done with our
permission, that we allow them to sin because we love them, and the
punishment for these sins we take upon ourselves. And we shall take it
upon ourselves, and they will adore us as their saviors who have taken
on themselves their sins before God. And they will have no secrets from
us. We shall allow or forbid them to live with their wives and
mistresses, to have or not to have children—according to whether they
have been obedient or disobedient—and they will submit to us gladly and
cheerfully. The most painful secrets of their conscience, all, all they
will bring to us, and we shall have an answer for all. And they will be
glad to believe our answer, for it will save them from the great
anxiety and terrible agony they endure at present in making a free
decision for themselves. And all will be happy, all the millions of
creatures except the hundred thousand who rule over them. For only we,
we who guard the mystery, shall be unhappy. There will be thousands of
millions of happy babes, and a hundred thousand sufferers who have