The Sword of Song

NOTES 51 the impossible, the already violated in the act of commanding, but a bitter commentary on the foul evil of this aimless, hopeless universe, this compact of misery, meanness, and cruelty. Let us pass on. THE SECOND PRECEPT The Second Precept is directed against theft. Theft is the appropriation to one’s own use of that to which another has a right. Let us see therefore whether or no the Buddha was a thief. The answ er is of course in the affirmative. For to issue a command is to attempt to deprive another of his most precious possession—the right to do as he will; that is, unless, with the predestinarians, we hold that action is determined absolutely, in which case, of course, a command is as absurd as it is unavoidable. Excluding this folly, therefore, we may conclude that if the command be obeyed—and those of Buddha have gained a far larger share of obedience that those of any other teacher—the Enlightened One was not only a potential but an actual thief. Further, all voluntary action limits in some degree, however minute, the volition of others. If I breathe, I diminish the stock of oxygen available on the planet. In those far distant ages when Earth shall be as dead as the moon is to-day, my breathing now will have robbed some being then living of the dearest necessity of life. That the theft is minute, incalculably trifling, is no answer to the moralist, to w hom degree is not known; nor to the scientist, who sees the chain of nature miss no link. If, on the other hand, the store of energy in the universe be indeed constant (whether infinite or no), if personality be indeed delusion, then theft becomes impossible, and to forbid it is absurd. We may argue that even so temporary theft may exist; and that this is so is to my mind no doubt the case. All theft is temporary, since even a millionaire must die; also it is universal, since even a Buddha must breathe. THE THIRD PRECEPT This prece[pt, against adultery, I shall touch but lightly. Not that I consider the subj ect unpleasant—far from it!—but since the English section of my readers, having unclean minds, will otherwise find a fulcrum therein for their favourite game of slander. Let it suffice if I say that the Buddha—in spite of the ridicu- lous membrane legend,* one of those foul follies which idiot devotees invent only too freely— was a confirmed and habitual adulterer . It * Membrum virile illius in membrana inclusum esse aiunt, ne copulare posset. would be easy to argue with Hegel-Huxley that he who thinks of an act commits it (cf. Jesus also in this connection, though he only knows the creative value of desire), and that since A and not-A are mutually limiting, therefore interdependent, therefore identical, he w ho forbids an act commits it; but I feel that this is no place for metaphysical hair- splitting; let us prove w hat w e have to prove in the plainest way. I would premise in the first place that to commit adultery in the D ivorce C ourt sense is not here in question. It assumes too much proprietary right of a man over a woman, that root of all abomina- tion !—the whole machinery of inheritance, property, and all the labyrinth of law. We may more readily assume that the Buddha was (apparently at least) condemning incontinence. We know that Buddha had abandoned his home ; true, but Nature has to be reckoned with. Volition is no necessary condition of offence. “I didn’t mean to” is a poor excuse for an officer failing to obey an order. Enough of this—in any case a minor ques- tion; since even on the lowest moral grounds— and we, I trust, soar higher!—the error in question may be resolved into a mixture of murder, theft and intoxication. (We consider the last under the Fifth Precept.) THE FOURTH PRECEPT Here w e come to w hat in a way is the fundamental joke of these precepts. A command is not a lie, of course; possibly cannot be; yet surely an allegorical order is one in essence, and I have no longer a shadow of a doubt that these so-called “precepts” are a species of savage practical joke. Apart from this there can hardly be much doubt, when critical exegesis has done its damnedest on the Logia of our Lord, that Buddha did at some time commit himself to some statement. “(Something called) C on- sciousness exists” is, said H uxley, the irreducible minimum of the pseudo-syllogism, false even for an enthymeme, “Cogito, ergo sum !” This proposition he bolsters up by stating that whoso should pretend to doubt it, would thereby but confirm it. Yet might it not be said “(Something called) Consciousness appears to itself to exist,” since Consciousness is itself the only w itness to that confirmation ? Not that even now we can deny some kind of existence to consciousness, but that it should be a more real existence than that of a reflec- tion is doubtful, incredible, even inconceivable. If by consciousness we mean the normal con- sciousness, it is definitely untrue, since the