diff options
Diffstat (limited to '10732-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 10732-0.txt | 3088 |
1 files changed, 3088 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/10732-0.txt b/10732-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..50bfde5 --- /dev/null +++ b/10732-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3088 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10732 *** + +THE ESSAYS OF ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER: STUDIES IN PESSIMISM + +TRANSLATED BY + +T. BAILEY SAUNDERS, M.A. + + + + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + ON THE SUFFERINGS OF THE WORLD + ON THE VANITY OF EXISTENCE + ON SUICIDE + IMMORTALITY: A DIALOGUE + PSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS + ON EDUCATION + OF WOMEN + ON NOISE + A FEW PARABLES + + + + +NOTE. + +The Essays here presented form a further selection from Schopenhauer's +_Parerga_, brought together under a title which is not to be found +in the original, and does not claim to apply to every chapter in +the volume. The first essay is, in the main, a rendering of the +philosopher's remarks under the heading of _Nachträge zur Lehre vom +Leiden der Welt_, together with certain parts of another section +entitled _Nachträge zur Lehre von der Bejahung und Verneinung des +Willens zum Leben_. Such omissions as I have made are directed chiefly +by the desire to avoid repeating arguments already familiar to readers +of the other volumes in this series. The _Dialogue on Immortality_ +sums up views expressed at length in the philosopher's chief work, and +treated again in the _Parerga_. The _Psychological Observations_ in +this and the previous volume practically exhaust the chapter of the +original which bears this title. + +The essay on _Women_ must not be taken in jest. It expresses +Schopenhauer's serious convictions; and, as a penetrating observer +of the faults of humanity, he may be allowed a hearing on a question +which is just now receiving a good deal of attention among us. + +T.B.S. + + + + +ON THE SUFFERINGS OF THE WORLD. + + +Unless _suffering_ is the direct and immediate object of life, our +existence must entirely fail of its aim. It is absurd to look upon +the enormous amount of pain that abounds everywhere in the world, and +originates in needs and necessities inseparable from life itself, as +serving no purpose at all and the result of mere chance. Each separate +misfortune, as it comes, seems, no doubt, to be something exceptional; +but misfortune in general is the rule. + +I know of no greater absurdity than that propounded by most systems of +philosophy in declaring evil to be negative in its character. Evil is +just what is positive; it makes its own existence felt. Leibnitz is +particularly concerned to defend this absurdity; and he seeks to +strengthen his position by using a palpable and paltry sophism.[1] +It is the good which is negative; in other words, happiness and +satisfaction always imply some desire fulfilled, some state of pain +brought to an end. + +[Footnote 1: _Translator's Note_, cf. _Thèod_, §153.--Leibnitz argued +that evil is a negative quality--_i.e_., the absence of good; and that +its active and seemingly positive character is an incidental and not +an essential part of its nature. Cold, he said, is only the absence of +the power of heat, and the active power of expansion in freezing water +is an incidental and not an essential part of the nature of cold. The +fact is, that the power of expansion in freezing water is really an +increase of repulsion amongst its molecules; and Schopenhauer is quite +right in calling the whole argument a sophism.] + +This explains the fact that we generally find pleasure to be not +nearly so pleasant as we expected, and pain very much more painful. + +The pleasure in this world, it has been said, outweighs the pain; or, +at any rate, there is an even balance between the two. If the reader +wishes to see shortly whether this statement is true, let him compare +the respective feelings of two animals, one of which is engaged in +eating the other. + +The best consolation in misfortune or affliction of any kind will +be the thought of other people who are in a still worse plight than +yourself; and this is a form of consolation open to every one. But +what an awful fate this means for mankind as a whole! + +We are like lambs in a field, disporting themselves under the eye of +the butcher, who chooses out first one and then another for his prey. +So it is that in our good days we are all unconscious of the evil Fate +may have presently in store for us--sickness, poverty, mutilation, +loss of sight or reason. + +No little part of the torment of existence lies in this, that Time is +continually pressing upon us, never letting us take breath, but always +coming after us, like a taskmaster with a whip. If at any moment Time +stays his hand, it is only when we are delivered over to the misery of +boredom. + +But misfortune has its uses; for, as our bodily frame would burst +asunder if the pressure of the atmosphere was removed, so, if the +lives of men were relieved of all need, hardship and adversity; if +everything they took in hand were successful, they would be so swollen +with arrogance that, though they might not burst, they would present +the spectacle of unbridled folly--nay, they would go mad. And I may +say, further, that a certain amount of care or pain or trouble is +necessary for every man at all times. A ship without ballast is +unstable and will not go straight. + +Certain it is that _work, worry, labor_ and _trouble_, form the lot of +almost all men their whole life long. But if all wishes were fulfilled +as soon as they arose, how would men occupy their lives? what would +they do with their time? If the world were a paradise of luxury and +ease, a land flowing with milk and honey, where every Jack obtained +his Jill at once and without any difficulty, men would either die of +boredom or hang themselves; or there would be wars, massacres, and +murders; so that in the end mankind would inflict more suffering on +itself than it has now to accept at the hands of Nature. + +In early youth, as we contemplate our coming life, we are like +children in a theatre before the curtain is raised, sitting there +in high spirits and eagerly waiting for the play to begin. It is a +blessing that we do not know what is really going to happen. Could we +foresee it, there are times when children might seem like innocent +prisoners, condemned, not to death, but to life, and as yet all +unconscious of what their sentence means. Nevertheless, every man +desires to reach old age; in other words, a state of life of which it +may be said: "It is bad to-day, and it will be worse to-morrow; and so +on till the worst of all." + +If you try to imagine, as nearly as you can, what an amount of misery, +pain and suffering of every kind the sun shines upon in its course, +you will admit that it would be much better if, on the earth as little +as on the moon, the sun were able to call forth the phenomena of life; +and if, here as there, the surface were still in a crystalline state. + +Again, you may look upon life as an unprofitable episode, disturbing +the blessed calm of non-existence. And, in any case, even though +things have gone with you tolerably well, the longer you live the more +clearly you will feel that, on the whole, life is _a disappointment, +nay, a cheat_. + +If two men who were friends in their youth meet again when they are +old, after being separated for a life-time, the chief feeling +they will have at the sight of each other will be one of complete +disappointment at life as a whole; because their thoughts will be +carried back to that earlier time when life seemed so fair as it +lay spread out before them in the rosy light of dawn, promised so +much--and then performed so little. This feeling will so completely +predominate over every other that they will not even consider it +necessary to give it words; but on either side it will be silently +assumed, and form the ground-work of all they have to talk about. + +He who lives to see two or three generations is like a man who sits +some time in the conjurer's booth at a fair, and witnesses the +performance twice or thrice in succession. The tricks were meant to +be seen only once; and when they are no longer a novelty and cease to +deceive, their effect is gone. + +While no man is much to be envied for his lot, there are countless +numbers whose fate is to be deplored. + +Life is a task to be done. It is a fine thing to say _defunctus est_; +it means that the man has done his task. + +If children were brought into the world by an act of pure reason +alone, would the human race continue to exist? Would not a man rather +have so much sympathy with the coming generation as to spare it the +burden of existence? or at any rate not take it upon himself to impose +that burden upon it in cold blood. + +I shall be told, I suppose, that my philosophy is comfortless--because +I speak the truth; and people prefer to be assured that everything the +Lord has made is good. Go to the priests, then, and leave philosophers +in peace! At any rate, do not ask us to accommodate our doctrines to +the lessons you have been taught. That is what those rascals of sham +philosophers will do for you. Ask them for any doctrine you please, +and you will get it. Your University professors are bound to preach +optimism; and it is an easy and agreeable task to upset their +theories. + +I have reminded the reader that every state of welfare, every feeling +of satisfaction, is negative in its character; that is to say, it +consists in freedom from pain, which is the positive element of +existence. It follows, therefore, that the happiness of any given life +is to be measured, not by its joys and pleasures, but by the extent to +which it has been free from suffering--from positive evil. If this +is the true standpoint, the lower animals appear to enjoy a happier +destiny than man. Let us examine the matter a little more closely. + +However varied the forms that human happiness and misery may take, +leading a man to seek the one and shun the other, the material basis +of it all is bodily pleasure or bodily pain. This basis is very +restricted: it is simply health, food, protection from wet and cold, +the satisfaction of the sexual instinct; or else the absence of these +things. Consequently, as far as real physical pleasure is concerned, +the man is not better off than the brute, except in so far as the +higher possibilities of his nervous system make him more sensitive to +every kind of pleasure, but also, it must be remembered, to every kind +of pain. But then compared with the brute, how much stronger are the +passions aroused in him! what an immeasurable difference there is in +the depth and vehemence of his emotions!--and yet, in the one case, +as in the other, all to produce the same result in the end: namely, +health, food, clothing, and so on. + +The chief source of all this passion is that thought for what is +absent and future, which, with man, exercises such a powerful +influence upon all he does. It is this that is the real origin of +his cares, his hopes, his fears--emotions which affect him much +more deeply than could ever be the case with those present joys +and sufferings to which the brute is confined. In his powers of +reflection, memory and foresight, man possesses, as it were, a machine +for condensing and storing up his pleasures and his sorrows. But the +brute has nothing of the kind; whenever it is in pain, it is as though +it were suffering for the first time, even though the same thing +should have previously happened to it times out of number. It has +no power of summing up its feelings. Hence its careless and placid +temper: how much it is to be envied! But in man reflection comes in, +with all the emotions to which it gives rise; and taking up the same +elements of pleasure and pain which are common to him and the brute, +it develops his susceptibility to happiness and misery to such a +degree that, at one moment the man is brought in an instant to a state +of delight that may even prove fatal, at another to the depths of +despair and suicide. + +If we carry our analysis a step farther, we shall find that, in order +to increase his pleasures, man has intentionally added to the number +and pressure of his needs, which in their original state were not much +more difficult to satisfy than those of the brute. Hence luxury in all +its forms; delicate food, the use of tobacco and opium, spirituous +liquors, fine clothes, and the thousand and one things than he +considers necessary to his existence. + +And above and beyond all this, there is a separate and peculiar source +of pleasure, and consequently of pain, which man has established for +himself, also as the result of using his powers of reflection; and +this occupies him out of all proportion to its value, nay, almost more +than all his other interests put together--I mean ambition and the +feeling of honor and shame; in plain words, what he thinks about the +opinion other people have of him. Taking a thousand forms, often very +strange ones, this becomes the goal of almost all the efforts he makes +that are not rooted in physical pleasure or pain. It is true that +besides the sources of pleasure which he has in common with the +brute, man has the pleasures of the mind as well. These admit of many +gradations, from the most innocent trifling or the merest talk up to +the highest intellectual achievements; but there is the accompanying +boredom to be set against them on the side of suffering. Boredom is +a form of suffering unknown to brutes, at any rate in their natural +state; it is only the very cleverest of them who show faint traces +of it when they are domesticated; whereas in the case of man it has +become a downright scourge. The crowd of miserable wretches whose one +aim in life is to fill their purses but never to put anything into +their heads, offers a singular instance of this torment of boredom. +Their wealth becomes a punishment by delivering them up to misery of +having nothing to do; for, to escape it, they will rush about in all +directions, traveling here, there and everywhere. No sooner do they +arrive in a place than they are anxious to know what amusements it +affords; just as though they were beggars asking where they could +receive a dole! Of a truth, need and boredom are the two poles +of human life. Finally, I may mention that as regards the sexual +relation, a man is committed to a peculiar arrangement which drives +him obstinately to choose one person. This feeling grows, now and +then, into a more or less passionate love,[1] which is the source of +little pleasure and much suffering. + +[Footnote 1: I have treated this subject at length in a special +chapter of the second volume of my chief work.] + +It is, however, a wonderful thing that the mere addition of thought +should serve to raise such a vast and lofty structure of human +happiness and misery; resting, too, on the same narrow basis of joy +and sorrow as man holds in common with the brute, and exposing him +to such violent emotions, to so many storms of passion, so much +convulsion of feeling, that what he has suffered stands written and +may be read in the lines on his face. And yet, when all is told, he +has been struggling ultimately for the very same things as the brute +has attained, and with an incomparably smaller expenditure of passion +and pain. + +But all this contributes to increase the measures of suffering in +human life out of all proportion to its pleasures; and the pains of +life are made much worse for man by the fact that death is something +very real to him. The brute flies from death instinctively without +really knowing what it is, and therefore without ever contemplating it +in the way natural to a man, who has this prospect always before his +eyes. So that even if only a few brutes die a natural death, and most +of them live only just long enough to transmit their species, and +then, if not earlier, become the prey of some other animal,--whilst +man, on the other hand, manages to make so-called natural death the +rule, to which, however, there are a good many exceptions,--the +advantage is on the side of the brute, for the reason stated above. +But the fact is that man attains the natural term of years just as +seldom as the brute; because the unnatural way in which he lives, and +the strain of work and emotion, lead to a degeneration of the race; +and so his goal is not often reached. + +The brute is much more content with mere existence than man; the plant +is wholly so; and man finds satisfaction in it just in proportion as +he is dull and obtuse. Accordingly, the life of the brute carries less +of sorrow with it, but also less of joy, when compared with the life +of man; and while this may be traced, on the one side, to freedom from +the torment of _care_ and _anxiety_, it is also due to the fact +that _hope_, in any real sense, is unknown to the brute. It is thus +deprived of any share in that which gives us the most and best of our +joys and pleasures, the mental anticipation of a happy future, and the +inspiriting play of phantasy, both of which we owe to our power of +imagination. If the brute is free from care, it is also, in this +sense, without hope; in either case, because its consciousness is +limited to the present moment, to what it can actually see before +it. The brute is an embodiment of present impulses, and hence what +elements of fear and hope exist in its nature--and they do not go very +far--arise only in relation to objects that lie before it and within +reach of those impulses: whereas a man's range of vision embraces the +whole of his life, and extends far into the past and future. + +Following upon this, there is one respect in which brutes show real +wisdom when compared with us--I mean, their quiet, placid enjoyment of +the present moment. The tranquillity of mind which this seems to give +them often puts us to shame for the many times we allow our thoughts +and our cares to make us restless and discontented. And, in fact, +those pleasures of hope and anticipation which I have been mentioning +are not to be had for nothing. The delight which a man has in hoping +for and looking forward to some special satisfaction is a part of the +real pleasure attaching to it enjoyed in advance. This is afterwards +deducted; for the more we look forward to anything, the less +satisfaction we find in it when it comes. But the brute's enjoyment +is not anticipated, and therefore, suffers no deduction; so that the +actual pleasure of the moment comes to it whole and unimpaired. In the +same way, too, evil presses upon the brute only with its own intrinsic +weight; whereas with us the fear of its coming often makes its burden +ten times more grievous. + +It is just this characteristic way in which the brute gives itself up +entirely to the present moment that contributes so much to the delight +we take in our domestic pets. They are the present moment personified, +and in some respects they make us feel the value of every hour that +is free from trouble and annoyance, which we, with our thoughts and +preoccupations, mostly disregard. But man, that selfish and heartless +creature, misuses this quality of the brute to be more content than we +are with mere existence, and often works it to such an extent that he +allows the brute absolutely nothing more than mere, bare life. The +bird which was made so that it might rove over half of the world, he +shuts up into the space of a cubic foot, there to die a slow death in +longing and crying for freedom; for in a cage it does not sing for +the pleasure of it. And when I see how man misuses the dog, his best +friend; how he ties up this intelligent animal with a chain, I feel +the deepest sympathy with the brute and burning indignation against +its master. + +We shall see later that by taking a very high standpoint it is +possible to justify the sufferings of mankind. But this justification +cannot apply to animals, whose sufferings, while in a great measure +brought about by men, are often considerable even apart from their +agency.[1] And so we are forced to ask, Why and for what purpose does +all this torment and agony exist? There is nothing here to give the +will pause; it is not free to deny itself and so obtain redemption. +There is only one consideration that may serve to explain the +sufferings of animals. It is this: that the will to live, which +underlies the whole world of phenomena, must, in their case satisfy +its cravings by feeding upon itself. This it does by forming a +gradation of phenomena, every one of which exists at the expense of +another. I have shown, however, that the capacity for suffering is +less in animals than in man. Any further explanation that may be given +of their fate will be in the nature of hypothesis, if not actually +mythical in its character; and I may leave the reader to speculate +upon the matter for himself. + +[Footnote 1: Cf. _Welt als Wille und Vorstellung_, vol. ii. p. 404.] + +_Brahma_ is said to have produced the world by a kind of fall or +mistake; and in order to atone for his folly, he is bound to remain +in it himself until he works out his redemption. As an account of the +origin of things, that is admirable! According to the doctrines +of _Buddhism_, the world came into being as the result of some +inexplicable disturbance in the heavenly calm of Nirvana, that blessed +state obtained by expiation, which had endured so long a time--the +change taking place by a kind of fatality. This explanation must be +understood as having at bottom some moral bearing; although it is +illustrated by an exactly parallel theory in the domain of physical +science, which places the origin of the sun in a primitive streak of +mist, formed one knows not how. Subsequently, by a series of moral +errors, the world became gradually worse and worse--true of the +physical orders as well--until it assumed the dismal aspect it wears +to-day. Excellent! The _Greeks_ looked upon the world and the gods as +the work of an inscrutable necessity. A passable explanation: we may +be content with it until we can get a better. Again, _Ormuzd_ and +_Ahriman_ are rival powers, continually at war. That is not bad. But +that a God like Jehovah should have created this world of misery and +woe, out of pure caprice, and because he enjoyed doing it, and should +then have clapped his hands in praise of his own work, and declared +everything to be very good--that will not do at all! In its +explanation of the origin of the world, Judaism is inferior to any +other form of religious doctrine professed by a civilized nation; +and it is quite in keeping with this that it is the only one which +presents no trace whatever of any belief in the immortality of the +soul.[1] + +[Footnote 1: See _Parerga_, vol. i. pp. 139 _et seq_.] + +Even though Leibnitz' contention, that this is the best of all +possible worlds, were correct, that would not justify God in having +created it. For he is the Creator not of the world only, but of +possibility itself; and, therefore, he ought to have so ordered +possibility as that it would admit of something better. + +There are two things which make it impossible to believe that this +world is the successful work of an all-wise, all-good, and, at the +same time, all-powerful Being; firstly, the misery which abounds in +it everywhere; and secondly, the obvious imperfection of its highest +product, man, who is a burlesque of what he should be. These things +cannot be reconciled with any such belief. On the contrary, they are +just the facts which support what I have been saying; they are our +authority for viewing the world as the outcome of our own misdeeds, +and therefore, as something that had better not have been. Whilst, +under the former hypothesis, they amount to a bitter accusation +against the Creator, and supply material for sarcasm; under the latter +they form an indictment against our own nature, our own will, and +teach us a lesson of humility. They lead us to see that, like the +children of a libertine, we come into the world with the burden of sin +upon us; and that it is only through having continually to atone for +this sin that our existence is so miserable, and that its end is +death. + +There is nothing more certain than the general truth that it is the +grievous _sin of the world_ which has produced the grievous _suffering +of the world_. I am not referring here to the physical connection +between these two things lying in the realm of experience; my meaning +is metaphysical. Accordingly, the sole thing that reconciles me to the +Old Testament is the story of the Fall. In my eyes, it is the only +metaphysical truth in that book, even though it appears in the form of +an allegory. There seems to me no better explanation of our existence +than that it is the result of some false step, some sin of which +we are paying the penalty. I cannot refrain from recommending the +thoughtful reader a popular, but at the same time, profound treatise +on this subject by Claudius[1] which exhibits the essentially +pessimistic spirit of Christianity. It is entitled: _Cursed is the +ground for thy sake_. + +[Footnote 1: _Translator's Note_.--Matthias Claudius (1740-1815), a +popular poet, and friend of Klopstock, Herder and Leasing. He edited +the _Wandsbecker Bote_, in the fourth part of which appeared the +treatise mentioned above. He generally wrote under the pseudonym of +_Asmus_, and Schopenhauer often refers to him by this name.] + +Between the ethics of the Greeks and the ethics of the Hindoos, there +is a glaring contrast. In the one case (with the exception, it must be +confessed, of Plato), the object of ethics is to enable a man to lead +a happy life; in the other, it is to free and redeem him from life +altogether--as is directly stated in the very first words of the +_Sankhya Karika_. + +Allied with this is the contrast between the Greek and the Christian +idea of death. It is strikingly presented in a visible form on a fine +antique sarcophagus in the gallery of Florence, which exhibits, in +relief, the whole series of ceremonies attending a wedding in ancient +times, from the formal offer to the evening when Hymen's torch lights +the happy couple home. Compare with that the Christian coffin, +draped in mournful black and surmounted with a crucifix! How much +significance there is in these two ways of finding comfort in death. +They are opposed to each other, but each is right. The one points to +the _affirmation_ of the will to live, which remains sure of life for +all time, however rapidly its forms may change. The other, in the +symbol of suffering and death, points to the _denial_ of the will to +live, to redemption from this world, the domain of death and devil. +And in the question between the affirmation and the denial of the will +to live, Christianity is in the last resort right. + +The contrast which the New Testament presents when compared with the +Old, according to the ecclesiastical view of the matter, is just that +existing between my ethical system and the moral philosophy of Europe. +The Old Testament represents man as under the dominion of Law, in +which, however, there is no redemption. The New Testament declares +Law to have failed, frees man from its dominion,[1] and in its stead +preaches the kingdom of grace, to be won by faith, love of neighbor +and entire sacrifice of self. This is the path of redemption from the +evil of the world. The spirit of the New Testament is undoubtedly +asceticism, however your protestants and rationalists may twist it to +suit their purpose. Asceticism is the denial of the will to live; and +the transition from the Old Testament to the New, from the dominion +of Law to that of Faith, from justification by works to redemption +through the Mediator, from the domain of sin and death to eternal life +in Christ, means, when taken in its real sense, the transition from +the merely moral virtues to the denial of the will to live. My +philosophy shows the metaphysical foundation of justice and the love +of mankind, and points to the goal to which these virtues necessarily +lead, if they are practised in perfection. At the same time it is +candid in confessing that a man must turn his back upon the world, and +that the denial of the will to live is the way of redemption. It is +therefore really at one with the spirit of the New Testament, whilst +all other systems are couched in the spirit of the Old; that is +to say, theoretically as well as practically, their result is +Judaism--mere despotic theism. In this sense, then, my doctrine might +be called the only true Christian philosophy--however paradoxical a +statement this may seem to people who take superficial views instead +of penetrating to the heart of the matter. + +[Footnote 1: Cf. Romans vii; Galatians ii, iii.] + +If you want a safe compass to guide you through life, and to banish +all doubt as to the right way of looking at it, you cannot do better +than accustom yourself to regard this world as a penitentiary, a +sort of a penal colony, or [Greek: ergastaerion] as the earliest +philosopher called it.[1] Amongst the Christian Fathers, Origen, with +praiseworthy courage, took this view,[2] which is further justified by +certain objective theories of life. I refer, not to my own philosophy +alone, but to the wisdom of all ages, as expressed in Brahmanism and +Buddhism, and in the sayings of Greek philosophers like Empedocles and +Pythagoras; as also by Cicero, in his remark that the wise men of old +used to teach that we come into this world to pay the penalty of crime +committed in another state of existence--a doctrine which formed +part of the initiation into the mysteries.[3] And Vanini--whom his +contemporaries burned, finding that an easier task than to confute +him--puts the same thing in a very forcible way. _Man_, he says, _is +so full of every kind of misery that, were it not repugnant to the +Christian religion, I should venture to affirm that if evil spirits +exist at all, they have posed into human form and are now atoning for +their crimes_.[4] And true Christianity--using the word in its right +sense--also regards our existence as the consequence of sin and error. + +[Footnote 1: Cf. Clem. Alex. Strom. L. iii, c, 3, p. 399.] + +[Footnote 2: Augustine _de cìvitate Dei_., L. xi. c. 23.] + +[Footnote 3: Cf. _Fragmenta de philosophia_.] + +[Footnote: 4: _De admirandis naturae arcanis_; dial L. p. 35.] + +If you accustom yourself to this view of life you will regulate your +expectations accordingly, and cease to look upon all its disagreeable +incidents, great and small, its sufferings, its worries, its misery, +as anything unusual or irregular; nay, you will find that everything +is as it should be, in a world where each of us pays the penalty of +existence in his own peculiar way. Amongst the evils of a penal colony +is the society of those who form it; and if the reader is worthy of +better company, he will need no words from me to remind him of what he +has to put up with at present. If he has a soul above the common, or +if he is a man of genius, he will occasionally feel like some noble +prisoner of state, condemned to work in the galleys with common +criminals; and he will follow his example and try to isolate himself. + +In general, however, it should be said that this view of life will +enable us to contemplate the so-called imperfections of the great +majority of men, their moral and intellectual deficiencies and the +resulting base type of countenance, without any surprise, to say +nothing of indignation; for we shall never cease to reflect where we +are, and that the men about us are beings conceived and born in +sin, and living to atone for it. That is what Christianity means in +speaking of the sinful nature of man. + +_Pardon's the word to all_! [1] Whatever folly men commit, be +their shortcomings or their vices what they may, let us exercise +forbearance; remembering that when these faults appear in others, it +is our follies and vices that we behold. They are the shortcomings of +humanity, to which we belong; whose faults, one and all, we share; +yes, even those very faults at which we now wax so indignant, merely +because they have not yet appeared in ourselves. They are faults that +do not lie on the surface. But they exist down there in the depths of +our nature; and should anything call them forth, they will come and +show themselves, just as we now see them in others. One man, it +is true, may have faults that are absent in his fellow; and it is +undeniable that the sum total of bad qualities is in some cases very +large; for the difference of individuality between man and man passes +all measure. + +[Footnote 1: "Cymbeline," Act v. Sc. 5.] + +In fact, the conviction that the world and man is something that had +better not have been, is of a kind to fill us with indulgence towards +one another. Nay, from this point of view, we might well consider the +proper form of address to be, not _Monsieur, Sir, mein Herr_, but _my +fellow-sufferer, Socî malorum, compagnon de miseres_! This may perhaps +sound strange, but it is in keeping with the facts; it puts others in +a right light; and it reminds us of that which is after all the most +necessary thing in life--the tolerance, patience, regard, and love +of neighbor, of which everyone stands in need, and which, therefore, +every man owes to his fellow. + + + + +THE VANITY OF EXISTENCE. + + +This vanity finds expression in the whole way in which things exist; +in the infinite nature of Time and Space, as opposed to the finite +nature of the individual in both; in the ever-passing present moment +as the only mode of actual existence; in the interdependence and +relativity of all things; in continual Becoming without ever Being; in +constant wishing and never being satisfied; in the long battle +which forms the history of life, where every effort is checked by +difficulties, and stopped until they are overcome. Time is that in +which all things pass away; it is merely the form under which the will +to live--the thing-in-itself and therefore imperishable--has revealed +to it that its efforts are in vain; it is that agent by which at every +moment all things in our hands become as nothing, and lose any real +value they possess. + +That which _has been_ exists no more; it exists as little as that +which has _never_ been. But of everything that exists you must say, in +the next moment, that it has been. Hence something of great importance +now past is inferior to something of little importance now present, in +that the latter is a _reality_, and related to the former as something +to nothing. + +A man finds himself, to his great astonishment, suddenly existing, +after thousands and thousands of years of non-existence: he lives for +a little while; and then, again, comes an equally long period when he +must exist no more. The heart rebels against this, and feels that +it cannot be true. The crudest intellect cannot speculate on such a +subject without having a presentiment that Time is something ideal in +its nature. This ideality of Time and Space is the key to every true +system of metaphysics; because it provides for quite another order of +things than is to be met with in the domain of nature. This is why +Kant is so great. + +Of every event in our life we can say only for one moment that it +_is_; for ever after, that it _was_. Every evening we are poorer by a +day. It might, perhaps, make us mad to see how rapidly our short span +of time ebbs away; if it were not that in the furthest depths of our +being we are secretly conscious of our share in the exhaustible spring +of eternity, so that we can always hope to find life in it again. + +Consideration of the kind, touched on above, might, indeed, lead us to +embrace the belief that the greatest _wisdom_ is to make the enjoyment +of the present the supreme object of life; because that is the only +reality, all else being merely the play of thought. On the other hand, +such a course might just as well be called the greatest _folly_: for +that which in the next moment exists no more, and vanishes utterly, +like a dream, can never be worth a serious effort. + +The whole foundation on which our existence rests is the present--the +ever-fleeting present. It lies, then, in the very nature of our +existence to take the form of constant motion, and to offer no +possibility of our ever attaining the rest for which we are always +striving. We are like a man running downhill, who cannot keep on his +legs unless he runs on, and will inevitably fall if he stops; or, +again, like a pole balanced on the tip of one's finger; or like a +planet, which would fall into its sun the moment it ceased to hurry +forward on its way. Unrest is the mark of existence. + +In a world where all is unstable, and nought can endure, but is swept +onwards at once in the hurrying whirlpool of change; where a man, if +he is to keep erect at all, must always be advancing and moving, like +an acrobat on a rope--in such a world, happiness in inconceivable. +How can it dwell where, as Plato says, _continual Becoming and never +Being_ is the sole form of existence? In the first place, a man never +is happy, but spends his whole life in striving after something which +he thinks will make him so; he seldom attains his goal, and when he +does, it is only to be disappointed; he is mostly shipwrecked in the +end, and comes into harbor with masts and rigging gone. And then, it +is all one whether he has been happy or miserable; for his life was +never anything more than a present moment always vanishing; and now it +is over. + +At the same time it is a wonderful thing that, in the world of human +beings as in that of animals in general, this manifold restless motion +is produced and kept up by the agency of two simple impulses--hunger +and the sexual instinct; aided a little, perhaps, by the influence of +boredom, but by nothing else; and that, in the theatre of life, these +suffice to form the _primum mobile_ of how complicated a machinery, +setting in motion how strange and varied a scene! + +On looking a little closer, we find that inorganic matter presents +a constant conflict between chemical forces, which eventually works +dissolution; and on the other hand, that organic life is impossible +without continual change of matter, and cannot exist if it does not +receive perpetual help from without. This is the realm of _finality_; +and its opposite would be _an infinite existence_, exposed to no +attack from without, and needing nothing to support it; [Greek: haei +hosautos dn], the realm of eternal peace; [Greek: oute giguomenon oute +apollumenon], some timeless, changeless state, one and undiversified; +the negative knowledge of which forms the dominant note of the +Platonic philosophy. It is to some such state as this that the denial +of the will to live opens up the way. + +The scenes of our life are like pictures done in rough mosaic. Looked +at close, they produce no effect. There is nothing beautiful to +be found in them, unless you stand some distance off. So, to gain +anything we have longed for is only to discover how vain and empty +it is; and even though we are always living in expectation of better +things, at the same time we often repent and long to have the past +back again. We look upon the present as something to be put up with +while it lasts, and serving only as the way towards our goal. Hence +most people, if they glance back when they come to the end of life, +will find that all along they have been living _ad interim_: they will +be surprised to find that the very thing they disregarded and let +slip by unenjoyed, was just the life in the expectation of which they +passed all their time. Of how many a man may it not be said that hope +made a fool of him until he danced into the arms of death! + +Then again, how insatiable a creature is man! Every satisfaction he +attains lays the seeds of some new desire, so that there is no end to +the wishes of each individual will. And why is this? The real reason +is simply that, taken in itself, Will is the lord of all worlds: +everything belongs to it, and therefore no one single thing can ever +give it satisfaction, but only the whole, which is endless. For all +that, it must rouse our sympathy to think how very little the Will, +this lord of the world, really gets when it takes the form of an +individual; usually only just enough to keep the body together. This +is why man is so very miserable. + +Life presents itself chiefly as a task--the task, I mean, of +subsisting at all, _gagner sa vie_. If this is accomplished, life is a +burden, and then there comes the second task of doing something with +that which has been won--of warding off boredom, which, like a bird +of prey, hovers over us, ready to fall wherever it sees a life secure +from need. The first task is to win something; the second, to banish +the feeling that it has been won; otherwise it is a burden. + +Human life must be some kind of mistake. The truth of this will be +sufficiently obvious if we only remember that man is a compound of +needs and necessities hard to satisfy; and that even when they are +satisfied, all he obtains is a state of painlessness, where nothing +remains to him but abandonment to boredom. This is direct proof that +existence has no real value in itself; for what is boredom but the +feeling of the emptiness of life? If life--the craving for which +is the very essence of our being--were possessed of any positive +intrinsic value, there would be no such thing as boredom at all: mere +existence would satisfy us in itself, and we should want for nothing. +But as it is, we take no delight in existence except when we are +struggling for something; and then distance and difficulties to be +overcome make our goal look as though it would satisfy us--an illusion +which vanishes when we reach it; or else when we are occupied with +some purely intellectual interest--when in reality we have stepped +forth from life to look upon it from the outside, much after the +manner of spectators at a play. And even sensual pleasure itself means +nothing but a struggle and aspiration, ceasing the moment its aim is +attained. Whenever we are not occupied in one of these ways, but cast +upon existence itself, its vain and worthless nature is brought home +to us; and this is what we mean by boredom. The hankering after what +is strange and uncommon--an innate and ineradicable tendency of human +nature--shows how glad we are at any interruption of that natural +course of affairs which is so very tedious. + +That this most perfect manifestation of the will to live, the human +organism, with the cunning and complex working of its machinery, +must fall to dust and yield up itself and all its strivings to +extinction--this is the naïve way in which Nature, who is always so +true and sincere in what she says, proclaims the whole struggle of +this will as in its very essence barren and unprofitable. Were it of +any value in itself, anything unconditioned and absolute, it could not +thus end in mere nothing. + +If we turn from contemplating the world as a whole, and, in +particular, the generations of men as they live their little hour of +mock-existence and then are swept away in rapid succession; if we turn +from this, and look at life in its small details, as presented, say, +in a comedy, how ridiculous it all seems! It is like a drop of water +seen through a microscope, a single drop teeming with _infusoria_; or +a speck of cheese full of mites invisible to the naked eye. How we +laugh as they bustle about so eagerly, and struggle with one another +in so tiny a space! And whether here, or in the little span of human +life, this terrible activity produces a comic effect. + +It is only in the microscope that our life looks so big. It is an +indivisible point, drawn out and magnified by the powerful lenses of +Time and Space. + + + + +ON SUICIDE. + + +As far as I know, none but the votaries of monotheistic, that is to +say, Jewish religions, look upon suicide as a crime. This is all the +more striking, inasmuch as neither in the Old nor in the New Testament +is there to be found any prohibition or positive disapproval of it; +so that religious teachers are forced to base their condemnation of +suicide on philosophical grounds of their own invention. These are +so very bad that writers of this kind endeavor to make up for the +weakness of their arguments by the strong terms in which they express +their abhorrence of the practice; in other words, they declaim against +it. They tell us that suicide is the greatest piece of cowardice; that +only a madman could be guilty of it; and other insipidities of the +same kind; or else they make the nonsensical remark that suicide is +_wrong_; when it is quite obvious that there is nothing in the world +to which every man has a more unassailable title than to his own life +and person. + +Suicide, as I have said, is actually accounted a crime; and a crime +which, especially under the vulgar bigotry that prevails in England, +is followed by an ignominious burial and the seizure of the man's +property; and for that reason, in a case of suicide, the jury almost +always brings in a verdict of insanity. Now let the reader's own moral +feelings decide as to whether or not suicide is a criminal act. Think +of the impression that would be made upon you by the news that some +one you know had committed the crime, say, of murder or theft, or been +guilty of some act of cruelty or deception; and compare it with your +feelings when you hear that he has met a voluntary death. While in the +one case a lively sense of indignation and extreme resentment will be +aroused, and you will call loudly for punishment or revenge, in the +other you will be moved to grief and sympathy; and mingled with your +thoughts will be admiration for his courage, rather than the moral +disapproval which follows upon a wicked action. Who has not had +acquaintances, friends, relations, who of their own free will have +left this world; and are these to be thought of with horror as +criminals? Most emphatically, No! I am rather of opinion that the +clergy should be challenged to explain what right they have to go into +the pulpit, or take up their pens, and stamp as a crime an action +which many men whom we hold in affection and honor have committed; +and to refuse an honorable burial to those who relinquish this +world voluntarily. They have no Biblical authority to boast of, +as justifying their condemnation of suicide; nay, not even any +philosophical arguments that will hold water; and it must be +understood that it is arguments we want, and that we will not be put +off with mere phrases or words of abuse. If the criminal law forbids +suicide, that is not an argument valid in the Church; and besides, the +prohibition is ridiculous; for what penalty can frighten a man who is +not afraid of death itself? If the law punishes people for trying +to commit suicide, it is punishing the want of skill that makes the +attempt a failure. + +The ancients, moreover, were very far from regarding the matter in +that light. Pliny says: _Life is not so desirable a thing as to be +protracted at any cost. Whoever you are, you are sure to die, even +though your life has been full of abomination and crime. The chief +of all remedies for a troubled mind is the feeling that among the +blessings which Nature gives to man, there is none greater than an +opportune death; and the best of it is that every one can avail +himself of it.[1]_ And elsewhere the same writer declares: _Not even +to God are all things possible; for he could not compass his own +death, if he willed to die, and yet in all the miseries of our earthly +life, this is the best of his gifts to man.[2]_ Nay, in Massilia +and on the isle of Ceos, the man who could give valid reasons +for relinquishing his life, was handed the cup of hemlock by the +magistrate; and that, too, in public.[3] And in ancient times, how +many heroes and wise men died a voluntary death. Aristotle,[4] it is +true, declared suicide to be an offence against the State, although +not against the person; but in Stobaeus' exposition of the Peripatetic +philosophy there is the following remark: _The good man should flee +life when his misfortunes become too great; the bad man, also, when +he is too prosperous_. And similarly: _So he will marry and beget +children and take part in the affairs of the State, and, generally, +practice virtue and continue to live; and then, again, if need be, +and at any time necessity compels him, he will depart to his place of +refuge in the tomb.[5]_ And we find that the Stoics actually praised +suicide as a noble and heroic action, as hundreds of passages show; +above all in the works of Seneca, who expresses the strongest approval +of it. As is well known, the Hindoos look upon suicide as a religious +act, especially when it takes the form of self-immolation by widows; +but also when it consists in casting oneself under the wheels of the +chariot of the god at Juggernaut, or being eaten by crocodiles in the +Ganges, or being drowned in the holy tanks in the temples, and so on. +The same thing occurs on the stage--that mirror of life. For example, +in _L'Orphelin de la Chine_[6] a celebrated Chinese play, almost +all the noble characters end by suicide; without the slightest hint +anywhere, or any impression being produced on the spectator, that +they are committing a crime. And in our own theatre it is much the +same--Palmira, for instance, in _Mahomet_, or Mortimer in _Maria +Stuart_, Othello, Countess Terzky.[7] Is Hamlet's monologue the +meditation of a criminal? He merely declares that if we had any +certainty of being annihilated by it, death would be infinitely +preferable to the world as it is. But _there lies the rub_! + +[Footnote 1: Hist. Nat. Lib. xxviii., 1.] + +[Footnote 2: Loc. cit. Lib. ii. c. 7.] + +[Footnote 3: 3 Valerius Maximus; hist. Lib. ii., c. 6, § 7 et 8. +Heraclides Ponticus; fragmenta de rebus publicis, ix. Aeliani variae +historiae, iii., 37. Strabo; Lib. x., c. 5, 6.] + +[Footnote 4: _Eth. Nichom_., v. 15.] + +[Footnote 5: Stobaeus. _Ecl. Eth_.. ii., c. 7, pp. 286, 312] + +[Footnote 6: Traduit par St. Julien, 1834.] + +[Footnote 7: _Translator's Note_.--Palmira: a female slave in Goethe's +play of _Mahomet_. Mortimer: a would-be lover and rescuer of Mary in +Schiller's _Maria Stuart_. Countess Terzky: a leading character in +Schiller's _Wallenstein's Tod_.] + +The reasons advanced against suicide by the clergy of monotheistic, +that is to say, Jewish religions, and by those philosophers who adapt +themselves thereto, are weak sophisms which can easily be refuted.[1] +The most thorough-going refutation of them is given by Hume in his +_Essay on Suicide_. This did not appear until after his death, when +it was immediately suppressed, owing to the scandalous bigotry and +outrageous ecclesiastical tyranny that prevailed in England; and hence +only a very few copies of it were sold under cover of secrecy and at a +high price. This and another treatise by that great man have come to +us from Basle, and we may be thankful for the reprint.[2] It is a +great disgrace to the English nation that a purely philosophical +treatise, which, proceeding from one of the first thinkers and writers +in England, aimed at refuting the current arguments against suicide +by the light of cold reason, should be forced to sneak about in that +country, as though it were some rascally production, until at last it +found refuge on the Continent. At the same time it shows what a good +conscience the Church has in such matters. + +[Footnote 1: See my treatise on the _Foundation of Morals_, § 5.] + +[Footnote 2: _Essays on Suicide_ and the _Immortality of the Soul_, by +the late David Hume, Basle, 1799, sold by James Decker.] + +In my chief work I have explained the only valid reason existing +against suicide on the score of mortality. It is this: that suicide +thwarts the attainment of the highest moral aim by the fact that, for +a real release from this world of misery, it substitutes one that is +merely apparent. But from a _mistake_ to a _crime_ is a far cry; and +it is as a crime that the clergy of Christendom wish us to regard +suicide. + +The inmost kernel of Christianity is the truth that suffering--_the +Cross_--is the real end and object of life. Hence Christianity +condemns suicide as thwarting this end; whilst the ancient world, +taking a lower point of view, held it in approval, nay, in honor.[1] +But if that is to be accounted a valid reason against suicide, it +involves the recognition of asceticism; that is to say, it is valid +only from a much higher ethical standpoint than has ever been adopted +by moral philosophers in Europe. If we abandon that high standpoint, +there is no tenable reason left, on the score of morality, for +condemning suicide. The extraordinary energy and zeal with which the +clergy of monotheistic religions attack suicide is not supported +either by any passages in the Bible or by any considerations of +weight; so that it looks as though they must have some secret reason +for their contention. May it not be this--that the voluntary surrender +of life is a bad compliment for him who said that _all things were +very good_? If this is so, it offers another instance of the crass +optimism of these religions,--denouncing suicide to escape being +denounced by it. + +[Footnote 1: _Translator's Note_.--Schopenhauer refers to _Die Welt +als Wille und Vorstellung_, vol. i., § 69, where the reader may find +the same argument stated at somewhat greater length. According to +Schopenhauer, moral freedom--the highest ethical aim--is to be +obtained only by a denial of the will to live. Far from being a +denial, suicide is an emphatic assertion of this will. For it is in +fleeing from the pleasures, not from the sufferings of life, that this +denial consists. When a man destroys his existence as an individual, +he is not by any means destroying his will to live. On the contrary, +he would like to live if he could do so with satisfaction to himself; +if he could assert his will against the power of circumstance; but +circumstance is too strong for him.] + +It will generally be found that, as soon as the terrors of life reach +the point at which they outweigh the terrors of death, a man will +put an end to his life. But the terrors of death offer considerable +resistance; they stand like a sentinel at the gate leading out of this +world. Perhaps there is no man alive who would not have already put an +end to his life, if this end had been of a purely negative character, +a sudden stoppage of existence. There is something positive about +it; it is the destruction of the body; and a man shrinks from that, +because his body is the manifestation of the will to live. + +However, the struggle with that sentinel is, as a rule, not so hard +as it may seem from a long way off, mainly in consequence of the +antagonism between the ills of the body and the ills of the mind. If +we are in great bodily pain, or the pain lasts a long time, we become +indifferent to other troubles; all we think about is to get well. In +the same way great mental suffering makes us insensible to bodily +pain; we despise it; nay, if it should outweigh the other, it +distracts our thoughts, and we welcome it as a pause in mental +suffering. It is this feeling that makes suicide easy; for the bodily +pain that accompanies it loses all significance in the eyes of one +who is tortured by an excess of mental suffering. This is especially +evident in the case of those who are driven to suicide by some purely +morbid and exaggerated ill-humor. No special effort to overcome their +feelings is necessary, nor do such people require to be worked up in +order to take the step; but as soon as the keeper into whose charge +they are given leaves them for a couple of minutes, they quickly bring +their life to an end. + +When, in some dreadful and ghastly dream, we reach the moment of +greatest horror, it awakes us; thereby banishing all the hideous +shapes that were born of the night. And life is a dream: when the +moment of greatest horror compels us to break it off, the same thing +happens. + +Suicide may also be regarded as an experiment--a question which man +puts to Nature, trying to force her to an answer. The question is +this: What change will death produce in a man's existence and in his +insight into the nature of things? It is a clumsy experiment to make; +for it involves the destruction of the very consciousness which puts +the question and awaits the answer. + + + + +IMMORTALITY:[1] A DIALOGUE. + +[Footnote 1: _Translator's Note_.--The word +immortality--_Unsterblichkeit_--does not occur in the original; nor +would it, in its usual application, find a place in Schopenhauer's +vocabulary. The word he uses is _Unzerstörbarkeit--indestructibility_. +But I have preferred _immortality_, because that word is commonly +associated with the subject touched upon in this little debate. If any +critic doubts the wisdom of this preference, let me ask him to try +his hand at a short, concise, and, at the same time, popularly +intelligible rendering of the German original, which runs thus: _Zur +Lehre von der Unzerstörbarkeit unseres wahren Wesens durch den Tod: +Meine dialogische Schlussbelustigung_.] + + +THRASYMACHOS--PHILALETHES. + +_Thrasymachos_. Tell me now, in one word, what shall I be after my +death? And mind you be clear and precise. + +_Philalethes_. All and nothing! + +_Thrasymachos_. I thought so! I gave you a problem, and you solve it +by a contradiction. That's a very stale trick. + +_Philalethes_. Yes, but you raise transcendental questions, and you +expect me to answer them in language that is only made for immanent +knowledge. It's no wonder that a contradiction ensues. + +_Thrasymachos_. What do you mean by transcendental questions and +immanent knowledge? I've heard these expressions before, of course; +they are not new to me. The Professor was fond of using them, but only +as predicates of the Deity, and he never talked of anything else; +which was all quite right and proper. He argued thus: if the Deity was +in the world itself, he was immanent; if he was somewhere outside it, +he was transcendent. Nothing could be clearer and more obvious! You +knew where you were. But this Kantian rigmarole won't do any more: +it's antiquated and no longer applicable to modern ideas. Why, we've +had a whole row of eminent men in the metropolis of German learning-- + +_Philalethes_. (Aside.) German humbug, he means. + +_Thrasymachos_. The mighty Schleiermacher, for instance, and that +gigantic intellect, Hegel; and at this time of day we've abandoned +that nonsense. I should rather say we're so far beyond it that we +can't put up with it any more. What's the use of it then? What does it +all mean? + +_Philalethes_. Transcendental knowledge is knowledge which passes +beyond the bounds of possible experience, and strives to determine the +nature of things as they are in themselves. Immanent knowledge, on the +other hand, is knowledge which confines itself entirely with those +bounds; so that it cannot apply to anything but actual phenomena. As +far as you are an individual, death will be the end of you. But your +individuality is not your true and inmost being: it is only the +outward manifestation of it. It is not the _thing-in-itself_, but only +the phenomenon presented in the form of time; and therefore with a +beginning and an end. But your real being knows neither time, nor +beginning, nor end, nor yet the limits of any given individual. It is +everywhere present in every individual; and no individual can +exist apart from it. So when death comes, on the one hand you are +annihilated as an individual; on the other, you are and remain +everything. That is what I meant when I said that after your death +you would be all and nothing. It is difficult to find a more precise +answer to your question and at the same time be brief. The answer is +contradictory, I admit; but it is so simply because your life is in +time, and the immortal part of you in eternity. You may put the matter +thus: Your immortal part is something that does not last in time and +yet is indestructible; but there you have another contradiction! You +see what happens by trying to bring the transcendental within the +limits of immanent knowledge. It is in some sort doing violence to the +latter by misusing it for ends it was never meant to serve. + +_Thrasymachos_. Look here, I shan't give twopence for your immortality +unless I'm to remain an individual. + +_Philalethes_. Well, perhaps I may be able to satisfy you on this +point. Suppose I guarantee that after death you shall remain an +individual, but only on condition that you first spend three months of +complete unconsciousness. + +_Thrasymachos_. I shall have no objection to that. + +_Philalethes_. But remember, if people are completely unconscious, +they take no account of time. So, when you are dead, it's all the same +to you whether three months pass in the world of consciousness, or ten +thousand years. In the one case as in the other, it is simply a matter +of believing what is told you when you awake. So far, then, you can +afford to be indifferent whether it is three months or ten thousand +years that pass before you recover your individuality. + +_Thrasymachos_. Yes, if it comes to that, I suppose you're right. + +_Philalethes_. And if by chance, after those ten thousand years have +gone by, no one ever thinks of awakening you, I fancy it would be +no great misfortune. You would have become quite accustomed to +non-existence after so long a spell of it--following upon such a very +few years of life. At any rate you may be sure you would be perfectly +ignorant of the whole thing. Further, if you knew that the mysterious +power which keeps you in your present state of life had never once +ceased in those ten thousand years to bring forth other phenomena like +yourself, and to endow them with life, it would fully console you. + +_Thrasymachos_. Indeed! So you think you're quietly going to do me +out of my individuality with all this fine talk. But I'm up to your +tricks. I tell you I won't exist unless I can have my individuality. +I'm not going to be put off with 'mysterious powers,' and what you +call 'phenomena.' I can't do without my individuality, and I won't +give it up. + +_Philalethes_. You mean, I suppose, that your individuality is such a +delightful thing, so splendid, so perfect, and beyond compare--that +you can't imagine anything better. Aren't you ready to exchange your +present state for one which, if we can judge by what is told us, may +possibly be superior and more endurable? + +_Thrasymachos_. Don't you see that my individuality, be it what it +may, is my very self? To me it is the most important thing in the +world. + + _For God is God and I am I_. + +_I_ want to exist, _I, I_. That's the main thing. I don't care about +an existence which has to be proved to be mine, before I can believe +it. + +_Philalethes_. Think what you're doing! When you say _I, I, I_ want +to exist, it is not you alone that says this. Everything says it, +absolutely everything that has the faintest trace of consciousness. It +follows, then, that this desire of yours is just the part of you that +is _not individual_--the part that is common to all things without +distinction. It is the cry, not of the individual, but of existence +itself; it is the intrinsic element in everything that exists, nay, it +is the cause of anything existing at all. This desire craves for, and +so is satisfied with, nothing less than existence in general--not any +definite individual existence. No! that is not its aim. It seems to be +so only because this desire--this _Will_--attains consciousness only +in the individual, and therefore looks as though it were concerned +with nothing but the individual. There lies the illusion--an illusion, +it is true, in which the individual is held fast: but, if he reflects, +he can break the fetters and set himself free. It is only indirectly, +I say, that the individual has this violent craving for existence. It +is _the Will to Live_ which is the real and direct aspirant--alike and +identical in all things. Since, then, existence is the free work, nay, +the mere reflection of the will, where existence is, there, too, +must be will; and for the moment the will finds its satisfaction in +existence itself; so far, I mean, as that which never rests, but +presses forward eternally, can ever find any satisfaction at all. +The will is careless of the individual: the individual is not its +business; although, as I have said, this seems to be the case, because +the individual has no direct consciousness of will except in himself. +The effect of this is to make the individual careful to maintain his +own existence; and if this were not so, there would be no surety +for the preservation of the species. From all this it is clear that +individuality is not a form of perfection, but rather of limitation; +and so to be freed from it is not loss but gain. Trouble yourself no +more about the matter. Once thoroughly recognize what you are, what +your existence really is, namely, the universal will to live, and the +whole question will seem to you childish, and most ridiculous! + +_Thrasymachos_. You're childish yourself and most ridiculous, like +all philosophers! and if a man of my age lets himself in for a +quarter-of-an-hour's talk with such fools, it is only because it +amuses me and passes the time. I've more important business to attend +to, so Good-bye. + + + + +FURTHER PSYCHOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS. + + +There is an unconscious propriety in the way in which, in all European +languages, the word _person_ is commonly used to denote a human +being. The real meaning of _persona_ is _a mask_, such as actors were +accustomed to wear on the ancient stage; and it is quite true that no +one shows himself as he is, but wears his mask and plays his part. +Indeed, the whole of our social arrangements may be likened to a +perpetual comedy; and this is why a man who is worth anything finds +society so insipid, while a blockhead is quite at home in it. + + * * * * * + +Reason deserves to be called a prophet; for in showing us the +consequence and effect of our actions in the present, does it not tell +us what the future will be? This is precisely why reason is such an +excellent power of restraint in moments when we are possessed by some +base passion, some fit of anger, some covetous desire, that will lead +us to do things whereof we must presently repent. + + * * * * * + +_Hatred_ comes from the heart; _contempt_ from the head; and neither +feeling is quite within our control. For we cannot alter our heart; +its basis is determined by motives; and our head deals with objective +facts, and applies to them rules which are immutable. Any given +individual is the union of a particular heart with a particular head. + +Hatred and contempt are diametrically opposed and mutually exclusive. +There are even not a few cases where hatred of a person is rooted in +nothing but forced esteem for his qualities. And besides, if a man +sets out to hate all the miserable creatures he meets, he will not +have much energy left for anything else; whereas he can despise them, +one and all, with the greatest ease. True, genuine contempt is just +the reverse of true, genuine pride; it keeps quite quiet and gives no +sign of its existence. For if a man shows that he despises you, he +signifies at least this much regard for you, that he wants to let +you know how little he appreciates you; and his wish is dictated by +hatred, which cannot exist with real contempt. On the contrary, if it +is genuine, it is simply the conviction that the object of it is a man +of no value at all. Contempt is not incompatible with indulgent and +kindly treatment, and for the sake of one's own peace and safety, this +should not be omitted; it will prevent irritation; and there is no +one who cannot do harm if he is roused to it. But if this pure, cold, +sincere contempt ever shows itself, it will be met with the most +truculent hatred; for the despised person is not in a position to +fight contempt with its own weapons. + + * * * * * + +Melancholy is a very different thing from bad humor, and of the two, +it is not nearly so far removed from a gay and happy temperament. +Melancholy attracts, while bad humor repels. + +Hypochondria is a species of torment which not only makes us +unreasonably cross with the things of the present; not only fills us +with groundless anxiety on the score of future misfortunes entirely +of our own manufacture; but also leads to unmerited self-reproach for +what we have done in the past. + +Hypochondria shows itself in a perpetual hunting after things that vex +and annoy, and then brooding over them. The cause of it is an inward +morbid discontent, often co-existing with a naturally restless +temperament. In their extreme form, this discontent and this unrest +lead to suicide. + + * * * * * + +Any incident, however trivial, that rouses disagreeable emotion, +leaves an after-effect in our mind, which for the time it lasts, +prevents our taking a clear objective view of the things about us, and +tinges all our thoughts: just as a small object held close to the eye +limits and distorts our field of vision. + + * * * * * + +What makes people _hard-hearted_ is this, that each man has, or +fancies he has, as much as he can bear in his own troubles. Hence, if +a man suddenly finds himself in an unusually happy position, it will +in most cases result in his being sympathetic and kind. But if he has +never been in any other than a happy position, or this becomes his +permanent state, the effect of it is often just the contrary: it so +far removes him from suffering that he is incapable of feeling any +more sympathy with it. So it is that the poor often show themselves +more ready to help than the rich. + + * * * * * + +At times it seems as though we both wanted and did not want the same +thing, and felt at once glad and sorry about it. For instance, if +on some fixed date we are going to be put to a decisive test about +anything in which it would be a great advantage to us to come off +victorious, we shall be anxious for it to take place at once, and at +the same time we shall tremble at the thought of its approach. And if, +in the meantime, we hear that, for once in a way, the date has been +postponed, we shall experience a feeling both of pleasure and of +annoyance; for the news is disappointing, but nevertheless it affords +us momentary relief. It is just the same thing if we are expecting +some important letter carrying a definite decision, and it fails to +arrive. + +In such cases there are really two different motives at work in us; +the stronger but more distant of the two being the desire to stand +the test and to have the decision given in our favor; and the weaker, +which touches us more nearly, the wish to be left for the present in +peace and quiet, and accordingly in further enjoyment of the advantage +which at any rate attaches to a state of hopeful uncertainty, compared +with the possibility that the issue may be unfavorable. + + * * * * * + +In my head there is a permanent opposition-party; and whenever I take +any step or come to any decision--though I may have given the matter +mature consideration--it afterwards attacks what I have done, without, +however, being each time necessarily in the right. This is, I suppose, +only a form of rectification on the part of the spirit of scrutiny; +but it often reproaches me when I do not deserve it. The same thing, +no doubt, happens to many others as well; for where is the man who +can help thinking that, after all, it were better not to have done +something that he did with great deliberation: + + _Quid tam dextro pede concipis ut te + Conatus non poeniteat votique peracti_? + + * * * * * + +Why is it that _common_ is an expression of contempt? and that +_uncommon, extraordinary, distinguished_, denote approbation? Why is +everything that is common contemptible? + +_Common_ in its original meaning denotes that which is peculiar to all +men, _i.e_., shared equally by the whole species, and therefore an +inherent part of its nature. Accordingly, if an individual possesses +no qualities beyond those which attach to mankind in general, he is +a _common man. Ordinary_ is a much milder word, and refers rather +to intellectual character; whereas _common_ has more of a moral +application. + +What value can a creature have that is not a whit different from +millions of its kind? Millions, do I say? nay, an infiniture of +creatures which, century after century, in never-ending flow, Nature +sends bubbling up from her inexhaustible springs; as generous with +them as the smith with the useless sparks that fly around his anvil. + +It is obviously quite right that a creature which has no qualities +except those of the species, should have to confine its claim to an +existence entirely within the limits of the species, and live a life +conditioned by those limits. + +In various passages of my works,[1] I have argued that whilst a lower +animal possesses nothing more than the generic character of its +species, man is the only being which can lay claim to possess an +individual character. But in most men this individual character comes +to very little in reality; and they may be almost all ranged under +certain classes: _ce sont des espèces_. Their thoughts and desires, +like their faces, are those of the species, or, at any rate, those +of the class to which they belong; and accordingly, they are of a +trivial, every-day, common character, and exist by the thousand. You +can usually tell beforehand what they are likely to do and say. They +have no special stamp or mark to distinguish them; they are like +manufactured goods, all of a piece. + +[Footnote 1: _Grundprobleme der Ethik_, p. 48; _Welt als Wille und +Vorstellung_, vol. i. p. 338.] + +If, then, their nature is merged in that of the species, how shall +their existence go beyond it? The curse of vulgarity puts men on a par +with the lower animals, by allowing them none but a generic nature, a +generic form of existence. Anything that is high or great or noble, +must then, as a mater of course, and by its very nature, stand alone +in a world where no better expression can be found to denote what is +base and contemptible than that which I have mentioned as in general +use, namely, _common_. + + * * * * * + +Will, as the _thing-in-itself_, is the foundation of all being; it +is part and parcel of every creature, and the permanent element in +everything. Will, then, is that which we possess in common with all +men, nay, with all animals, and even with lower forms of existence; +and in so far we are akin to everything--so far, that is, as +everything is filled to overflowing with will. On the other hand, that +which places one being over another, and sets differences between man +and man, is intellect and knowledge; therefore in every manifestation +of self we should, as far as possible, give play to the intellect +alone; for, as we have seen, the will is the _common_ part of us. +Every violent exhibition of will is common and vulgar; in other words, +it reduces us to the level of the species, and makes us a mere type +and example of it; in that it is just the character of the +species that we are showing. So every fit of anger is something +_common_--every unrestrained display of joy, or of hate, or fear--in +short, every form of emotion; in other words, every movement of the +will, if it's so strong as decidedly to outweigh the intellectual +element in consciousness, and to make the man appear as a being that +_wills_ rather than _knows_. + +In giving way to emotion of this violent kind, the greatest genius +puts himself on a level with the commonest son of earth. Contrarily, +if a man desires to be absolutely uncommon, in other words, great, he +should never allow his consciousness to be taken possession of +and dominated by the movement of his will, however much he may be +solicited thereto. For example, he must be able to observe that other +people are badly disposed towards him, without feeling any hatred +towards them himself; nay, there is no surer sign of a great mind than +that it refuses to notice annoying and insulting expressions, but +straightway ascribes them, as it ascribes countless other mistakes, to +the defective knowledge of the speaker, and so merely observes without +feeling them. This is the meaning of that remark of Gracian, that +nothing is more unworthy of a man than to let it be seen that he is +one--_el mayor desdoro de un hombre es dar muestras de que es hombre_. + +And even in the drama, which is the peculiar province of the passions +and emotions, it is easy for them to appear common and vulgar. And +this is specially observable in the works of the French tragic +writers, who set no other aim before themselves but the delineation +of the passions; and by indulging at one moment in a vaporous kind +of pathos which makes them ridiculous, at another in epigrammatic +witticisms, endeavor to conceal the vulgarity of their subject. I +remember seeing the celebrated Mademoiselle Rachel as Maria Stuart: +and when she burst out in fury against Elizabeth--though she did it +very well--I could not help thinking of a washerwoman. She played +the final parting in such a way as to deprive it of all true tragic +feeling, of which, indeed, the French have no notion at all. The same +part was incomparably better played by the Italian Ristori; and, in +fact, the Italian nature, though in many respects very different from +the German, shares its appreciation for what is deep, serious, and +true in Art; herein opposed to the French, which everywhere betrays +that it possesses none of this feeling whatever. + +The noble, in other words, the uncommon, element in the drama--nay, +what is sublime in it--is not reached until the intellect is set to +work, as opposed to the will; until it takes a free flight over all +those passionate movements of the will, and makes them subject of its +contemplation. Shakespeare, in particular, shows that this is his +general method, more especially in Hamlet. And only when intellect +rises to the point where the vanity of all effort is manifest, and the +will proceeds to an act of self-annulment, is the drama tragic in the +true sense of the word; it is then that it reaches its highest aim in +becoming really sublime. + + * * * * * + +Every man takes the limits of his own field of vision for the limits +of the world. This is an error of the intellect as inevitable as that +error of the eye which lets us fancy that on the horizon heaven and +earth meet. This explains many things, and among them the fact that +everyone measures us with his own standard--generally about as long as +a tailor's tape, and we have to put up with it: as also that no one +will allow us to be taller than himself--a supposition which is once +for all taken for granted. + + * * * * * + +There is no doubt that many a man owes his good fortune in life solely +to the circumstance that he has a pleasant way of smiling, and so wins +the heart in his favor. + +However, the heart would do better to be careful, and to remember what +Hamlet put down in his tablets--_that one may smile, and smile, and be +a villain_. + + * * * * * + +Everything that is really fundamental in a man, and therefore genuine +works, as such, unconsciously; in this respect like the power of +nature. That which has passed through the domain of consciousness is +thereby transformed into an idea or picture; and so if it comes to be +uttered, it is only an idea or picture which passes from one person to +another. + +Accordingly, any quality of mind or character that is genuine and +lasting, is originally unconscious; and it is only when unconsciously +brought into play that it makes a profound impression. If any like +quality is consciously exercised, it means that it has been worked up; +it becomes intentional, and therefore matter of affectation, in other +words, of deception. + +If a man does a thing unconsciously, it costs him no trouble; but if +he tries to do it by taking trouble, he fails. This applies to the +origin of those fundamental ideas which form the pith and marrow of +all genuine work. Only that which is innate is genuine and will hold +water; and every man who wants to achieve something, whether in +practical life, in literature, or in art, must _follow the rules +without knowing them_. + + * * * * * + +Men of very great capacity, will as a rule, find the company of very +stupid people preferable to that of the common run; for the same +reason that the tyrant and the mob, the grandfather and the +grandchildren, are natural allies. + + * * * * * + +That line of Ovid's, + + _Pronaque cum spectent animalia cetera terram_, + +can be applied in its true physical sense to the lower animals alone; +but in a metaphorical and spiritual sense it is, alas! true of nearly +all men as well. All their plans and projects are merged in the desire +of physical enjoyment, physical well-being. They may, indeed, have +personal interests, often embracing a very varied sphere; but still +these latter receive their importance entirely from the relation in +which they stand to the former. This is not only proved by their +manner of life and the things they say, but it even shows itself in +the way they look, the expression of their physiognomy, their gait and +gesticulations. Everything about them cries out; _in terram prona_! + +It is not to them, it is only to the nobler and more highly endowed +natures--men who really think and look about them in the world, and +form exceptional specimens of humanity--that the next lines are +applicable; + + _Os homini sublime dedit coelumque tueri + Jussit et erectos ad sidera tollere vultus_. + + * * * * * + +No one knows what capacities for doing and suffering he has in +himself, until something comes to rouse them to activity: just as in +a pond of still water, lying there like a mirror, there is no sign of +the roar and thunder with which it can leap from the precipice, and +yet remain what it is; or again, rise high in the air as a fountain. +When water is as cold as ice, you can have no idea of the latent +warmth contained in it. + + * * * * * + +Why is it that, in spite of all the mirrors in the world, no one +really knows what he looks like? + +A man may call to mind the face of his friend, but not his own. Here, +then, is an initial difficulty in the way of applying the maxim, _Know +thyself_. + +This is partly, no doubt, to be explained by the fact that it is +physically impossible for a man to see himself in the glass except +with face turned straight towards it and perfectly motionless; where +the expression of the eye, which counts for so much, and really gives +its whole character to the face, is to a great extent lost. But +co-existing with this physical impossibility, there seems to me to be +an ethical impossibility of an analogous nature, and producing the +same effect. A man cannot look upon his own reflection as though the +person presented there were _a stranger_ to him; and yet this is +necessary if he is to take _an objective view_. In the last resort, +an objective view means a deep-rooted feeling on the part of the +individual, as a moral being, that that which he is contemplating is +_not himself_[1]; and unless he can take this point of view, he will +not see things in a really true light, which is possible only if he is +alive to their actual defects, exactly as they are. Instead of that, +when a man sees himself in the glass, something out of his own +egotistic nature whispers to him to take care to remember that _it is +no stranger, but himself, that he is looking at_; and this operates as +a _noli me tang ere_, and prevents him taking an objective view. It +seems, indeed, as if, without the leaven of a grain of malice, such a +view were impossible. + +[Footnote 1: Cf. _Grundprobleme der Ethik_, p. 275.] + + * * * * * + +According as a man's mental energy is exerted or relaxed, will life +appear to him either so short, and petty, and fleeting, that nothing +can possibly happen over which it is worth his while to spend emotion; +that nothing really matters, whether it is pleasure or riches, or even +fame, and that in whatever way a man may have failed, he cannot +have lost much--or, on the other hand, life will seem so long, so +important, so all in all, so momentous and so full of difficulty that +we have to plunge into it with our whole soul if we are to obtain a +share of its goods, make sure of its prizes, and carry out our plans. +This latter is the immanent and common view of life; it is what +Gracian means when he speaks of the serious way of looking +at things--_tomar muy de veras el vivir_. The former is the +transcendental view, which is well expressed in Ovid's _non est +tanti_--it is not worth so much trouble; still better, however, by +Plato's remark that nothing in human affairs is worth any great +anxiety--[Greek: oute ti ton anthropinon axion esti megalaes +spoudaes.] This condition of mind is due to the intellect having got +the upper hand in the domain of consciousness, where, freed from +the mere service of the will, it looks upon the phenomena of life +objectively, and so cannot fail to gain a clear insight into its +vain and futile character. But in the other condition of mind, will +predominates; and the intellect exists only to light it on its way to +the attainment of its desires. + +A man is great or small according as he leans to the one or the other +of these views of life. + + * * * * * + +People of very brilliant ability think little of admitting their +errors and weaknesses, or of letting others see them. They look upon +them as something for which they have duly paid; and instead of +fancying that these weaknesses are a disgrace to them, they consider +they are doing them an honor. This is especially the case when +the errors are of the kind that hang together with their +qualities--_conditiones sine quibus non_--or, as George Sand said, +_les défauts de ses vertus_. + +Contrarily, there are people of good character and irreproachable +intellectual capacity, who, far from admitting the few little +weaknesses they have, conceal them with care, and show themselves very +sensitive to any suggestion of their existence; and this, just because +their whole merit consists in being free from error and infirmity. If +these people are found to have done anything wrong, their reputation +immediately suffers. + + * * * * * + +With people of only moderate ability, modesty is mere honesty; but +with those who possess great talent, it is hypocrisy. Hence, it is +just as becoming in the latter to make no secret of the respect they +bear themselves and no disguise of the fact that they are conscious of +unusual power, as it is in the former to be modest. Valerius +Maximus gives some very neat examples of this in his chapter on +self-confidence, _de fiducia sui_. + + * * * * * + +Not to go to the theatre is like making one's toilet without a mirror. +But it is still worse to take a decision without consulting a friend. +For a man may have the most excellent judgment in all other matters, +and yet go wrong in those which concern himself; because here the will +comes in and deranges the intellect at once. Therefore let a man take +counsel of a friend. A doctor can cure everyone but himself; if he +falls ill, he sends for a colleague. + + * * * * * + +In all that we do, we wish, more or less, to come to the end; we are +impatient to finish and glad to be done. But the last scene of all, +the general end, is something that, as a rule, we wish as far off as +may be. + + * * * * * + +Every parting gives a foretaste of death; every coming together again +a foretaste of the resurrection. This is why even people who were +indifferent to each other, rejoice so much if they come together again +after twenty or thirty years' separation. + + * * * * * + +Intellects differ from one another in a very real and fundamental way: +but no comparison can well be made by merely general observations. It +is necessary to come close, and to go into details; for the difference +that exists cannot be seen from afar; and it is not easy to judge by +outward appearances, as in the several cases of education, leisure and +occupation. But even judging by these alone, it must be admitted that +many a man has _a degree of existence_ at least ten times as high as +another--in other words, exists ten times as much. + +I am not speaking here of savages whose life is often only one degree +above that of the apes in their woods. Consider, for instance, a +porter in Naples or Venice (in the north of Europe solicitude for the +winter months makes people more thoughtful and therefore reflective); +look at the life he leads, from its beginning to its end:--driven by +poverty; living on his physical strength; meeting the needs of every +day, nay, of every hour, by hard work, great effort, constant tumult, +want in all its forms, no care for the morrow; his only comfort +rest after exhaustion; continuous quarreling; not a moment free for +reflection; such sensual delights as a mild climate and only just +sufficient food will permit of; and then, finally, as the metaphysical +element, the crass superstition of his church; the whole forming a +manner of life with only a low degree of consciousness, where a man +hustles, or rather is hustled, through his existence. This restless +and confused dream forms the life of how many millions! + +Such men _think_ only just so much as is necessary to carry out their +will for the moment. They never reflect upon their life as a connected +whole, let alone, then, upon existence in general; to a certain extent +they may be said to exist without really knowing it. The existence of +the mobsman or the slave who lives on in this unthinking way, stands +very much nearer than ours to that of the brute, which is confined +entirely to the present moment; but, for that very reason, it has also +less of pain in it than ours. Nay, since all pleasure is in its nature +negative, that is to say, consists in freedom from some form of misery +or need, the constant and rapid interchange between setting about +something and getting it done, which is the permanent accompaniment of +the work they do, and then again the augmented form which this +takes when they go from work to rest and the satisfaction of their +needs--all this gives them a constant source of enjoyment; and the +fact that it is much commoner to see happy faces amongst the poor than +amongst the rich, is a sure proof that it is used to good advantage. + +Passing from this kind of man, consider, next, the sober, sensible +merchant, who leads a life of speculation, thinks long over his plans +and carries them out with great care, founds a house, and provides for +his wife, his children and descendants; takes his share, too, in the +life of a community. It is obvious that a man like this has a much +higher degree of consciousness than the former, and so his existence +has a higher degree of reality. + +Then look at the man of learning, who investigates, it may be, the +history of the past. He will have reached the point at which a man +becomes conscious of existence as a whole, sees beyond the period of +his own life, beyond his own personal interests, thinking over the +whole course of the world's history. + +Then, finally, look at the poet or the philosopher, in whom reflection +has reached such a height, that, instead of being drawn on to +investigate any one particular phenomenon of existence, he stands in +amazement _before existence itself_, this great sphinx, and makes it +his problem. In him consciousness has reached the degree of clearness +at which it embraces the world itself: his intellect has completely +abandoned its function as the servant of his will, and now holds the +world before him; and the world calls upon him much more to examine +and consider it, than to play a part in it himself. If, then, the +degree of consciousness is the degree of reality, such a man will be +said to exist most of all, and there will be sense and significance in +so describing him. + +Between the two extremes here sketched, and the intervening stages, +everyone will be able to find the place at which he himself stands. + + * * * * * + +We know that man is in general superior to all other animals, and this +is also the case in his capacity for being trained. Mohammedans are +trained to pray with their faces turned towards Mecca, five times a +day; and they never fail to do it. Christians are trained to cross +themselves on certain occasions, to bow, and so on. Indeed, it may +be said that religion is the _chef d'oeuvre_ of the art of training, +because it trains people in the way they shall think: and, as is well +known, you cannot begin the process too early. There is no absurdity +so palpable but that it may be firmly planted in the human head if +you only begin to inculcate it before the age of five, by constantly +repeating it with an air of great solemnity. For as in the case of +animals, so in that of men, training is successful only when you begin +in early youth. + +Noblemen and gentlemen are trained to hold nothing sacred but their +word of honor--to maintain a zealous, rigid, and unshaken belief in +the ridiculous code of chivalry; and if they are called upon to do so, +to seal their belief by dying for it, and seriously to regard a king +as a being of a higher order. + +Again, our expressions of politeness, the compliments we make, in +particular, the respectful attentions we pay to ladies, are a matter +of training; as also our esteem for good birth, rank, titles, and so +on. Of the same character is the resentment we feel at any insult +directed against us; and the measure of this resentment may be exactly +determined by the nature of the insult. An Englishman, for instance, +thinks it a deadly insult to be told that he is no gentleman, or, +still worse, that he is a liar; a Frenchman has the same feeling if +you call him a coward, and a German if you say he is stupid. + +There are many persons who are trained to be strictly honorable in +regard to one particular matter, while they have little honor to boast +of in anything else. Many a man, for instance, will not steal your +money; but he will lay hands on everything of yours that he can enjoy +without having to pay for it. A man of business will often deceive you +without the slightest scruple, but he will absolutely refuse to commit +a theft. + +Imagination is strong in a man when that particular function of the +brain which enables him to observe is roused to activity without +any necessary excitement of the senses. Accordingly, we find that +imagination is active just in proportion as our senses are not excited +by external objects. A long period of solitude, whether in prison or +in a sick room; quiet, twilight, darkness--these are the things that +promote its activity; and under their influence it comes into play of +itself. On the other hand, when a great deal of material is presented +to our faculties of observation, as happens on a journey, or in +the hurly-burly of the world, or, again, in broad daylight, the +imagination is idle, and, even though call may be made upon it, +refuses to become active, as though it understood that that was not +its proper time. + +However, if the imagination is to yield any real product, it must have +received a great deal of material from the external world. This is +the only way in which its storehouse can be filled. The phantasy is +nourished much in the same way as the body, which is least capable +of any work and enjoys doing nothing just in the very moment when it +receives its food which it has to digest. And yet it is to this very +food that it owes the power which it afterwards puts forth at the +right time. + + * * * * * + +Opinion is like a pendulum and obeys the same law. If it goes past +the centre of gravity on one side, it must go a like distance on the +other; and it is only after a certain time that it finds the true +point at which it can remain at rest. + + * * * * * + +By a process of contradiction, distance in space makes things look +small, and therefore free from defect. This is why a landscape looks +so much better in a contracting mirror or in a _camera obscura_, than +it is in reality. The same effect is produced by distance in time. The +scenes and events of long ago, and the persons who took part in them, +wear a charming aspect to the eye of memory, which sees only the +outlines and takes no note of disagreeable details. The present enjoys +no such advantage, and so it always seems defective. + +And again, as regards space, small objects close to us look big, and +if they are very close, we may be able to see nothing else, but when +we go a little way off, they become minute and invisible. It is the +same again as regards time. The little incidents and accidents of +every day fill us with emotion, anxiety, annoyance, passion, as long +as they are close to us, when they appear so big, so important, so +serious; but as soon as they are borne down the restless stream of +time, they lose what significance they had; we think no more of them +and soon forget them altogether. They were big only because they were +near. + + * * * * * + +_Joy_ and _sorrow_ are not ideas of the mind, but affections of the +will, and so they do not lie in the domain of memory. We cannot recall +our joys and sorrows; by which I mean that we cannot renew them. We +can recall only the _ideas_ that accompanied them; and, in particular, +the things we were led to say; and these form a gauge of our feelings +at the time. Hence our memory of joys and sorrows is always imperfect, +and they become a matter of indifference to us as soon as they are +over. This explains the vanity of the attempt, which we sometimes +make, to revive the pleasures and the pains of the past. Pleasure and +pain are essentially an affair of the will; and the will, as such, is +not possessed of memory, which is a function of the intellect; and +this in its turn gives out and takes in nothing but thoughts and +ideas, which are not here in question. + +It is a curious fact that in bad days we can very vividly recall the +good time that is now no more; but that in good days, we have only a +very cold and imperfect memory of the bad. + + * * * * * + +We have a much better memory of actual objects or pictures than +for mere ideas. Hence a good imagination makes it easier to learn +languages; for by its aid, the new word is at once united with the +actual object to which it refers; whereas, if there is no imagination, +it is simply put on a parallel with the equivalent word in the mother +tongue. + +Mnemonics should not only mean the art of keeping something indirectly +in the memory by the use of some direct pun or witticism; it should, +rather, be applied to a systematic theory of memory, and explain its +several attributes by reference both to its real nature, and to the +relation in which these attributes stand to one another. + + * * * * * + +There are moments in life when our senses obtain a higher and rarer +degree of clearness, apart from any particular occasion for it in the +nature of our surroundings; and explicable, rather, on physiological +grounds alone, as the result of some enhanced state of susceptibility, +working from within outwards. Such moments remain indelibly impressed +upon the memory, and preserve themselves in their individuality +entire. We can assign no reason for it, nor explain why this among so +many thousand moments like it should be specially remembered. It seems +as much a matter of chance as when single specimens of a whole race of +animals now extinct are discovered in the layers of a rock; or when, +on opening a book, we light upon an insect accidentally crushed within +the leaves. Memories of this kind are always sweet and pleasant. + + * * * * * + +It occasionally happens that, for no particular reason, long-forgotten +scenes suddenly start up in the memory. This may in many cases be due +to the action of some hardly perceptible odor, which accompanied those +scenes and now recurs exactly same as before. For it is well known +that the sense of smell is specially effective in awakening memories, +and that in general it does not require much to rouse a train of +ideas. And I may say, in passing, that the sense of sight is connected +with the understanding,[1] the sense of hearing with the reason,[2] +and, as we see in the present case, the sense of smell with the +memory. Touch and Taste are more material and dependent upon contact. +They have no ideal side. + +[Footnote 1:_Wierfache Wurzel_ § 21.] + +[Footnote 2: _Parerga_ vol. ii, § 311.] + + * * * * * + +It must also be reckoned among the peculiar attributes of memory +that a slight state of intoxication often so greatly enhances the +recollection of past times and scenes, that all the circumstances +connected with them come back much more clearly than would be possible +in a state of sobriety; but that, on the other hand, the recollection +of what one said or did while the intoxication lasted, is more than +usually imperfect; nay, that if one has been absolutely tipsy, it is +gone altogether. We may say, then, that whilst intoxication enhances +the memory for what is past, it allows it to remember little of the +present. + + * * * * * + +Men need some kind of external activity, because they are inactive +within. Contrarily, if they are active within, they do not care to be +dragged out of themselves; it disturbs and impedes their thoughts in a +way that is often most ruinous to them. + + * * * * * + +I am not surprised that some people are bored when they find +themselves alone; for they cannot laugh if they are quite by +themselves. The very idea of it seems folly to them. + +Are we, then, to look upon laughter as merely O signal for others--a +mere sign, like a word? What makes it impossible for people to laugh +when they are alone is nothing but want of imagination, dullness of +mind generally--[Greek: anaisthaesia kai bradutaes psuchaes], as +Theophrastus has it.[1] The lower animals never laugh, either alone +or in company. Myson, the misanthropist, was once surprised by one of +these people as he was laughing to himself. _Why do you laugh_? he +asked; _there is no one with you. That is just why I am laughing_, +said Myson. + +[Footnote 1: _Characters_, c. 27.] + + * * * * * + +Natural _gesticulation_, such as commonly accompanies any lively talk, +is a language of its own, more widespread, even, than the language of +words--so far, I mean, as it is independent of words and alike in all +nations. It is true that nations make use of it in proportion as they +are vivacious, and that in particular cases, amongst the Italians, for +instance, it is supplemented by certain peculiar gestures which are +merely conventional, and therefore possessed of nothing more than a +local value. + +In the universal use made of it, gesticulation has some analogy with +logic and grammar, in that it has to do with the form, rather +than with the matter of conversation; but on the other hand it is +distinguishable from them by the fact that it has more of a moral than +of an intellectual bearing; in other words, it reflects the movements +of the will. As an accompaniment of conversation it is like the bass +of a melody; and if, as in music, it keeps true to the progress of the +treble, it serves to heighten the effect. + +In a conversation, the gesture depends upon the form in which the +subject-matter is conveyed; and it is interesting to observe that, +whatever that subject-matter may be, with a recurrence of the form, +the very same gesture is repeated. So if I happen to see--from my +window, say--two persons carrying on a lively conversation, without +my being able to catch a word, I can, nevertheless, understand the +general nature of it perfectly well; I mean, the kind of thing that is +being said and the form it takes. There is no mistake about it. The +speaker is arguing about something, advancing his reasons, then +limiting their application, then driving them home and drawing the +conclusion in triumph; or he is recounting his experiences, proving, +perhaps, beyond the shadow of a doubt, how much he has been injured, +but bringing the clearest and most damning evidence to show that +his opponents were foolish and obstinate people who would not be +convinced; or else he is telling of the splendid plan he laid, and how +he carried it to a successful issue, or perhaps failed because +the luck was against him; or, it may be, he is saying that he was +completely at a loss to know what to do, or that he was quick in +seeing some traps set for him, and that by insisting on his rights or +by applying a little force, he succeeded in frustrating and punishing +his enemies; and so on in hundreds of cases of a similar kind. + +Strictly speaking, however, what I get from gesticulation alone is +an abstract notion of the essential drift of what is being said, and +that, too, whether I judge from a moral or an intellectual point of +view. It is the quintessence, the true substance of the conversation, +and this remains identical, no matter what may have given rise to the +conversation, or what it may be about; the relation between the two +being that of a general idea or class-name to the individuals which it +covers. + +As I have said, the most interesting and amusing part of the matter is +the complete identity and solidarity of the gestures used to denote +the same set of circumstances, even though by people of very different +temperament; so that the gestures become exactly like words of +a language, alike for every one, and subject only to such small +modifications as depend upon variety of accent and education. And yet +there can be no doubt but that these standing gestures, which every +one uses, are the result of no convention or collusion. They are +original and innate--a true language of nature; consolidated, it may +be, by imitation and the influence of custom. + +It is well known that it is part of an actor's duty to make a careful +study of gesture; and the same thing is true, to a somewhat smaller +degree, of a public speaker. This study must consist chiefly in +watching others and imitating their movements, for there are no +abstract rules fairly applicable to the matter, with the exception +of some very general leading principles, such as--to take an +example--that the gesture must not follow the word, but rather +come immediately before it, by way of announcing its approach and +attracting the hearer's attention. + +Englishmen entertain a peculiar contempt for gesticulation, and look +upon it as something vulgar and undignified. This seems to me a silly +prejudice on their part, and the outcome of their general prudery. For +here we have a language which nature has given to every one, and which +every one understands; and to do away with and forbid it for no better +reason than that it is opposed to that much-lauded thing, gentlemanly +feeling, is a very questionable proceeding. + + + + +ON EDUCATION. + + +The human intellect is said to be so constituted that _general ideas_ +arise by abstraction from _particular observations_, and therefore +come after them in point of time. If this is what actually occurs, as +happens in the case of a man who has to depend solely upon his own +experience for what he learns--who has no teacher and no book,--such +a man knows quite well which of his particular observations belong to +and are represented by each of his general ideas. He has a perfect +acquaintance with both sides of his experience, and accordingly, he +treats everything that comes in his way from a right standpoint. This +might be called the _natural_ method of education. + +Contrarily, the _artificial_ method is to hear what other people say, +to learn and to read, and so to get your head crammed full of general +ideas before you have any sort of extended acquaintance with the world +as it is, and as you may see it for yourself. You will be told that +the particular observations which go to make these general ideas will +come to you later on in the course of experience; but until that time +arrives, you apply your general ideas wrongly, you judge men and +things from a wrong standpoint, you see them in a wrong light, and +treat them in a wrong way. So it is that education perverts the mind. + +This explains why it so frequently happens that, after a long course +of learning and reading, we enter upon the world in our youth, partly +with an artless ignorance of things, partly with wrong notions about +them; so that our demeanor savors at one moment of a nervous anxiety, +at another of a mistaken confidence. The reason of this is simply that +our head is full of general ideas which we are now trying to turn to +some use, but which we hardly ever apply rightly. This is the result +of acting in direct opposition to the natural development of the mind +by obtaining general ideas first, and particular observations last: +it is putting the cart before the horse. Instead of developing the +child's own faculties of discernment, and teaching it to judge and +think for itself, the teacher uses all his energies to stuff its head +full of the ready-made thoughts of other people. The mistaken views +of life, which spring from a false application of general ideas, have +afterwards to be corrected by long years of experience; and it is +seldom that they are wholly corrected. This is why so few men of +learning are possessed of common-sense, such as is often to be met +with in people who have had no instruction at all. + +_To acquire a knowledge of the world_ might be defined as the aim +of all education; and it follows from what I have said that special +stress should be laid upon beginning to acquire this knowledge _at +the right end_. As I have shown, this means, in the main, that the +particular observation of a thing shall precede the general idea of +it; further, that narrow and circumscribed ideas shall come before +ideas of a wide range. It means, therefore, that the whole system of +education shall follow in the steps that must have been taken by the +ideas themselves in the course of their formation. But whenever any of +these steps are skipped or left out, the instruction is defective, and +the ideas obtained are false; and finally, a distorted view of the +world arises, peculiar to the individual himself--a view such as +almost everyone entertains for some time, and most men for as long as +they live. No one can look into his own mind without seeing that it +was only after reaching a very mature age, and in some cases when he +least expected it, that he came to a right understanding or a clear +view of many matters in his life, that, after all, were not very +difficult or complicated. Up till then, they were points in his +knowledge of the world which were still obscure, due to his having +skipped some particular lesson in those early days of his education, +whatever it may have been like--whether artificial and conventional, +or of that natural kind which is based upon individual experience. + +It follows that an attempt should be made to find out the strictly +natural course of knowledge, so that education may proceed +methodically by keeping to it; and that children may become acquainted +with the ways of the world, without getting wrong ideas into their +heads, which very often cannot be got out again. If this plan were +adopted, special care would have to be taken to prevent children +from using words without clearly understanding their meaning and +application. The fatal tendency to be satisfied with words instead of +trying to understand things--to learn phrases by heart, so that +they may prove a refuge in time of need, exists, as a rule, even in +children; and the tendency lasts on into manhood, making the knowledge +of many learned persons to consist in mere verbiage. + +However, the main endeavor must always be to let particular +observations precede general ideas, and not _vice versa_, as is +usually and unfortunately the case; as though a child should come +feet foremost into the world, or a verse be begun by writing down the +rhyme! The ordinary method is to imprint ideas and opinions, in the +strict sense of the word, _prejudices_, on the mind of the child, +before it has had any but a very few particular observations. It is +thus that he afterwards comes to view the world and gather experience +through the medium of those ready-made ideas, rather than to let his +ideas be formed for him out of his own experience of life, as they +ought to be. + +A man sees a great many things when he looks at the world for himself, +and he sees them from many sides; but this method of learning is not +nearly so short or so quick as the method which employs abstract +ideas and makes hasty generalizations about everything. Experience, +therefore, will be a long time in correcting preconceived ideas, or +perhaps never bring its task to an end; for wherever a man finds that +the aspect of things seems to contradict the general ideas he has +formed, he will begin by rejecting the evidence it offers as partial +and one-sided; nay, he will shut his eyes to it altogether and deny +that it stands in any contradiction at all with his preconceived +notions, in order that he may thus preserve them uninjured. So it is +that many a man carries about a burden of wrong notions all his life +long--crotchets, whims, fancies, prejudices, which at last become +fixed ideas. The fact is that he has never tried to form his +fundamental ideas for himself out of his own experience of life, his +own way of looking at the world, because he has taken over his ideas +ready-made from other people; and this it is that makes him--as it +makes how many others!--so shallow and superficial. + +Instead of that method of instruction, care should be taken to educate +children on the natural lines. No idea should ever be established in a +child's mind otherwise than by what the child can see for itself, or +at any rate it should be verified by the same means; and the result of +this would be that the child's ideas, if few, would be well-grounded +and accurate. It would learn how to measure things by its own standard +rather than by another's; and so it would escape a thousand strange +fancies and prejudices, and not need to have them eradicated by the +lessons it will subsequently be taught in the school of life. The +child would, in this way, have its mind once for all habituated +to clear views and thorough-going knowledge; it would use its own +judgment and take an unbiased estimate of things. + +And, in general, children should not form their notions of what life +is like from the copy before they have learned it from the original, +to whatever aspect of it their attention may be directed. Instead, +therefore, of hastening to place _books_, and books alone, in their +hands, let them be made acquainted, step by step, with _things_--with +the actual circumstances of human life. And above all let care be +taken to bring them to a clear and objective view of the world as it +is, to educate them always to derive their ideas directly from real +life, and to shape them in conformity with it--not to fetch them from +other sources, such as books, fairy tales, or what people say--then +to apply them ready-made to real life. For this will mean that their +heads are full of wrong notions, and that they will either see things +in a false light or try in vain to _remodel the world_ to suit their +views, and so enter upon false paths; and that, too, whether they are +only constructing theories of life or engaged in the actual business +of it. It is incredible how much harm is done when the seeds of wrong +notions are laid in the mind in those early years, later on to bear a +crop of prejudice; for the subsequent lessons, which are learned from +real life in the world have to be devoted mainly to their extirpation. +_To unlearn the evil_ was the answer, according to Diogenes +Laertius,[1] Antisthenes gave, when he was asked what branch of +knowledge was most necessary; and we can see what he meant. + +[Footnote 1: vi. 7.] + +No child under the age of fifteen should receive instruction in +subjects which may possibly be the vehicle of serious error, such as +philosophy, religion, or any other branch of knowledge where it is +necessary to take large views; because wrong notions imbibed early can +seldom be rooted out, and of all the intellectual faculties, judgment +is the last to arrive at maturity. The child should give its attention +either to subjects where no error is possible at all, such as +mathematics, or to those in which there is no particular danger in +making a mistake, such as languages, natural science, history and so +on. And in general, the branches of knowledge which are to be studied +at any period of life should be such as the mind is equal to at that +period and can perfectly understand. Childhood and youth form the time +for collecting materials, for getting a special and thorough knowledge +of the individual and particular things. In those years it is too +early to form views on a large scale; and ultimate explanations must +be put off to a later date. The faculty of judgment, which cannot come +into play without mature experience, should be left to itself; and +care should be taken not to anticipate its action by inculcating +prejudice, which will paralyze it for ever. + +On the other hand, the memory should be specially taxed in youth, +since it is then that it is strongest and most tenacious. But in +choosing the things that should be committed to memory the utmost care +and forethought must be exercised; as lessons well learnt in youth are +never forgotten. This precious soil must therefore be cultivated so as +to bear as much fruit as possible. If you think how deeply rooted in +your memory are those persons whom you knew in the first twelve years +of your life, how indelible the impression made upon you by the events +of those years, how clear your recollection of most of the things that +happened to you then, most of what was told or taught you, it will +seem a natural thing to take the susceptibility and tenacity of the +mind at that period as the ground-work of education. This may be done +by a strict observance of method, and a systematic regulation of the +impressions which the mind is to receive. + +But the years of youth allotted to a man are short, and memory is, in +general, bound within narrow limits; still more so, the memory of any +one individual. Since this is the case, it is all-important to fill +the memory with what is essential and material in any branch of +knowledge, to the exclusion of everything else. The decision as to +what is essential and material should rest with the masterminds in +every department of thought; their choice should be made after the +most mature deliberation, and the outcome of it fixed and determined. +Such a choice would have to proceed by sifting the things which it +is necessary and important for a man to know in general, and then, +necessary and important for him to know in any particular business +or calling. Knowledge of the first kind would have to be classified, +after an encyclopaedic fashion, in graduated courses, adapted to the +degree of general culture which a man may be expected to have in the +circumstances in which he is placed; beginning with a course limited +to the necessary requirements of primary education, and extending +upwards to the subjects treated of in all the branches of +philosophical thought. The regulation of the second kind of knowledge +would be left to those who had shown genuine mastery in the several +departments into which it is divided; and the whole system would +provide an elaborate rule or canon for intellectual education, which +would, of course, have to be revised every ten years. Some such +arrangement as this would employ the youthful power of the memory to +best advantage, and supply excellent working material to the faculty +of judgment, when it made its appearance later on. + +A man's knowledge may be said to be mature, in other words, it has +reached the most complete state of perfection to which he, as an +individual, is capable of bringing it, when an exact correspondence is +established between the whole of his abstract ideas and the things he +has actually perceived for himself. This will mean that each of +his abstract ideas rests, directly or indirectly, upon a basis of +observation, which alone endows it with any real value; and also +that he is able to place every observation he makes under the right +abstract idea which belongs to it. Maturity is the work of experience +alone; and therefore it requires time. The knowledge we derive from +our own observation is usually distinct from that which we acquire +through the medium of abstract ideas; the one coming to us in the +natural way, the other by what people tell us, and the course of +instruction we receive, whether it is good or bad. The result is, that +in youth there is generally very little agreement or correspondence +between our abstract ideas, which are merely phrases in the mind, and +that real knowledge which we have obtained by our own observation. It +is only later on that a gradual approach takes place between these two +kinds of knowledge, accompanied by a mutual correction of error; and +knowledge is not mature until this coalition is accomplished. This +maturity or perfection of knowledge is something quite independent of +another kind of perfection, which may be of a high or a low order--the +perfection, I mean, to which a man may bring his own individual +faculties; which is measured, not by any correspondence between the +two kinds of knowledge, but by the degree of intensity which each kind +attains. + +For the practical man the most needful thing is to acquire an accurate +and profound knowledge of _the ways of the world_. But this, though +the most needful, is also the most wearisome of all studies, as a man +may reach a great age without coming to the end of his task; whereas, +in the domain of the sciences, he masters the more important facts +when he is still young. In acquiring that knowledge of the world, it +is while he is a novice, namely, in boyhood and in youth, that the +first and hardest lessons are put before him; but it often happens +that even in later years there is still a great deal to be learned. + +The study is difficult enough in itself; but the difficulty is doubled +by _novels_, which represent a state of things in life and the world, +such as, in fact, does not exist. Youth is credulous, and accepts +these views of life, which then become part and parcel of the mind; so +that, instead of a merely negative condition of ignorance, you have +positive error--a whole tissue of false notions to start with; and at +a later date these actually spoil the schooling of experience, and put +a wrong construction on the lessons it teaches. If, before this, +the youth had no light at all to guide him, he is now misled by a +will-o'-the-wisp; still more often is this the case with a girl. +They have both had a false view of things foisted on them by reading +novels; and expectations have been aroused which can never be +fulfilled. This generally exercises a baneful influence on their whole +life. In this respect those whose youth has allowed them no time or +opportunity for reading novels--those who work with their hands and +the like--are in a position of decided advantage. There are a few +novels to which this reproach cannot be addressed--nay, which have an +effect the contrary of bad. First and foremost, to give an example, +_Gil Blas_, and the other works of Le Sage (or rather their Spanish +originals); further, _The Vicar of Wakefield_, and, to some extent Sir +Walter Scott's novels. _Don Quixote_ may be regarded as a satirical +exhibition of the error to which I am referring. + + + + +OF WOMEN. + + +Schiller's poem in honor of women, _Würde der Frauen_, is the +result of much careful thought, and it appeals to the reader by its +antithetic style and its use of contrast; but as an expression of the +true praise which should be accorded to them, it is, I think, inferior +to these few words of Jouy's: _Without women, the beginning of our +life would be helpless; the middle, devoid of pleasure; and the end, +of consolation_. The same thing is more feelingly expressed by Byron +in _Sardanapalus_: + + _The very first + Of human life must spring from woman's breast, + Your first small words are taught you from her lips, + Your first tears quench'd by her, and your last sighs + Too often breathed out in a woman's hearing, + When men have shrunk from the ignoble care + Of watching the last hour of him who led them_. + + (Act I Scene 2.) + +These two passages indicate the right standpoint for the appreciation +of women. + +You need only look at the way in which she is formed, to see that +woman is not meant to undergo great labor, whether of the mind or of +the body. She pays the debt of life not by what she does, but by what +she suffers; by the pains of child-bearing and care for the child, +and by submission to her husband, to whom she should be a patient and +cheering companion. The keenest sorrows and joys are not for her, nor +is she called upon to display a great deal of strength. The current +of her life should be more gentle, peaceful and trivial than man's, +without being essentially happier or unhappier. + +Women are directly fitted for acting as the nurses and teachers of +our early childhood by the fact that they are themselves childish, +frivolous and short-sighted; in a word, they are big children all +their life long--a kind of intermediate stage between the child and +the full-grown man, who is man in the strict sense of the word. See +how a girl will fondle a child for days together, dance with it and +sing to it; and then think what a man, with the best will in the +world, could do if he were put in her place. + +With young girls Nature seems to have had in view what, in the +language of the drama, is called _a striking effect_; as for a few +years she dowers them with a wealth of beauty and is lavish in her +gift of charm, at the expense of all the rest of their life; so that +during those years they may capture the fantasy of some man to such a +degree that he is hurried away into undertaking the honorable care of +them, in some form or other, as long as they live--a step for which +there would not appear to be any sufficient warranty if reason only +directed his thoughts. Accordingly, Nature has equipped woman, as she +does all her creatures, with the weapons and implements requisite +for the safeguarding of her existence, and for just as long as it is +necessary for her to have them. Here, as elsewhere, Nature proceeds +with her usual economy; for just as the female ant, after fecundation, +loses her wings, which are then superfluous, nay, actually a danger +to the business of breeding; so, after giving birth to one or two +children, a woman generally loses her beauty; probably, indeed, for +similar reasons. + +And so we find that young girls, in their hearts, look upon domestic +affairs or work of any kind as of secondary importance, if not +actually as a mere jest. The only business that really claims their +earnest attention is love, making conquests, and everything connected +with this--dress, dancing, and so on. + +The nobler and more perfect a thing is, the later and slower it is +in arriving at maturity. A man reaches the maturity of his reasoning +powers and mental faculties hardly before the age of twenty-eight; a +woman at eighteen. And then, too, in the case of woman, it is only +reason of a sort--very niggard in its dimensions. That is why women +remain children their whole life long; never seeing anything but +what is quite close to them, cleaving to the present moment, taking +appearance for reality, and preferring trifles to matters of the first +importance. For it is by virtue of his reasoning faculty that man does +not live in the present only, like the brute, but looks about him and +considers the past and the future; and this is the origin of prudence, +as well as of that care and anxiety which so many people exhibit. Both +the advantages and the disadvantages which this involves, are shared +in by the woman to a smaller extent because of her weaker power +of reasoning. She may, in fact, be described as intellectually +short-sighted, because, while she has an intuitive understanding of +what lies quite close to her, her field of vision is narrow and does +not reach to what is remote; so that things which are absent, or past, +or to come, have much less effect upon women than upon men. This is +the reason why women are more often inclined to be extravagant, and +sometimes carry their inclination to a length that borders upon +madness. In their hearts, women think that it is men's business +to earn money and theirs to spend it--- if possible during their +husband's life, but, at any rate, after his death. The very fact +that their husband hands them over his earnings for purposes of +housekeeping, strengthens them in this belief. + +However many disadvantages all this may involve, there is at least +this to be said in its favor; that the woman lives more in the present +than the man, and that, if the present is at all tolerable, she enjoys +it more eagerly. This is the source of that cheerfulness which +is peculiar to women, fitting her to amuse man in his hours of +recreation, and, in case of need, to console him when he is borne down +by the weight of his cares. + +It is by no means a bad plan to consult women in matters of +difficulty, as the Germans used to do in ancient times; for their way +of looking at things is quite different from ours, chiefly in the +fact that they like to take the shortest way to their goal, and, in +general, manage to fix their eyes upon what lies before them; while +we, as a rule, see far beyond it, just because it is in front of our +noses. In cases like this, we need to be brought back to the right +standpoint, so as to recover the near and simple view. + +Then, again, women are decidedly more sober in their judgment than +we are, so that they do not see more in things than is really there; +whilst, if our passions are aroused, we are apt to see things in an +exaggerated way, or imagine what does not exist. + +The weakness of their reasoning faculty also explains why it is that +women show more sympathy for the unfortunate than men do, and so treat +them with more kindness and interest; and why it is that, on the +contrary, they are inferior to men in point of justice, and less +honorable and conscientious. For it is just because their reasoning +power is weak that present circumstances have such a hold over them, +and those concrete things, which lie directly before their eyes, +exercise a power which is seldom counteracted to any extent by +abstract principles of thought, by fixed rules of conduct, firm +resolutions, or, in general, by consideration for the past and the +future, or regard for what is absent and remote. Accordingly, they +possess the first and main elements that go to make a virtuous +character, but they are deficient in those secondary qualities which +are often a necessary instrument in the formation of it.[1] + +[Footnote 1: In this respect they may be compared to an animal +organism which contains a liver but no gall-bladder. Here let me refer +to what I have said in my treatise on _The Foundation of Morals_, § +17.] + +Hence, it will be found that the fundamental fault of the female +character is that it has _no sense of justice_. This is mainly due to +the fact, already mentioned, that women are defective in the powers of +reasoning and deliberation; but it is also traceable to the position +which Nature has assigned to them as the weaker sex. They are +dependent, not upon strength, but upon craft; and hence their +instinctive capacity for cunning, and their ineradicable tendency to +say what is not true. For as lions are provided with claws and teeth, +and elephants and boars with tusks, bulls with horns, and cuttle fish +with its clouds of inky fluid, so Nature has equipped woman, for her +defence and protection, with the arts of dissimulation; and all the +power which Nature has conferred upon man in the shape of physical +strength and reason, has been bestowed upon women in this form. Hence, +dissimulation is innate in woman, and almost as much a quality of the +stupid as of the clever. It is as natural for them to make use of it +on every occasion as it is for those animals to employ their means of +defence when they are attacked; they have a feeling that in doing so +they are only within their rights. Therefore a woman who is perfectly +truthful and not given to dissimulation is perhaps an impossibility, +and for this very reason they are so quick at seeing through +dissimulation in others that it is not a wise thing to attempt it with +them. But this fundamental defect which I have stated, with all +that it entails, gives rise to falsity, faithlessness, treachery, +ingratitude, and so on. Perjury in a court of justice is more +often committed by women than by men. It may, indeed, be generally +questioned whether women ought to be sworn in at all. From time to +time one finds repeated cases everywhere of ladies, who want for +nothing, taking things from shop-counters when no one is looking, and +making off with them. + +Nature has appointed that the propagation of the species shall be the +business of men who are young, strong and handsome; so that the race +may not degenerate. This is the firm will and purpose of Nature in +regard to the species, and it finds its expression in the passions of +women. There is no law that is older or more powerful than this. Woe, +then, to the man who sets up claims and interests that will conflict +with it; whatever he may say and do, they will be unmercifully crushed +at the first serious encounter. For the innate rule that governs +women's conduct, though it is secret and unformulated, nay, +unconscious in its working, is this: _We are justified in deceiving +those who think they have acquired rights over the species by paying +little attention to the individual, that is, to us. The constitution +and, therefore, the welfare of the species have been placed in our +hands and committed to our care, through the control we obtain over +the next generation, which proceeds from us; let us discharge our +duties conscientiously_. But women have no abstract knowledge of this +leading principle; they are conscious of it only as a concrete fact; +and they have no other method of giving expression to it than the +way in which they act when the opportunity arrives. And then their +conscience does not trouble them so much as we fancy; for in the +darkest recesses of their heart, they are aware that in committing a +breach of their duty towards the individual, they have all the +better fulfilled their duty towards the species, which is infinitely +greater.[1] + +[Footnote 1: A more detailed discussion of the matter in question may +be found in my chief work, _Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung_, vol. +ii, ch. 44.] + +And since women exist in the main solely for the propagation of the +species, and are not destined for anything else, they live, as a rule, +more for the species than for the individual, and in their hearts +take the affairs of the species more seriously than those of the +individual. This gives their whole life and being a certain levity; +the general bent of their character is in a direction fundamentally +different from that of man; and it is this to which produces that +discord in married life which is so frequent, and almost the normal +state. + +The natural feeling between men is mere indifference, but +between women it is actual enmity. The reason of this is that +trade-jealousy--_odium figulinum_--which, in the case of men does not +go beyond the confines of their own particular pursuit; but, with +women, embraces the whole sex; since they have only one kind of +business. Even when they meet in the street, women look at one another +like Guelphs and Ghibellines. And it is a patent fact that when two +women make first acquaintance with each other, they behave with more +constraint and dissimulation than two men would show in a like case; +and hence it is that an exchange of compliments between two women is a +much more ridiculous proceeding than between two men. Further, whilst +a man will, as a general rule, always preserve a certain amount of +consideration and humanity in speaking to others, even to those who +are in a very inferior position, it is intolerable to see how proudly +and disdainfully a fine lady will generally behave towards one who is +in a lower social rank (I do not mean a woman who is in her service), +whenever she speaks to her. The reason of this may be that, with +women, differences of rank are much more precarious than with us; +because, while a hundred considerations carry weight in our case, +in theirs there is only one, namely, with which man they have found +favor; as also that they stand in much nearer relations with one +another than men do, in consequence of the one-sided nature of their +calling. This makes them endeavor to lay stress upon differences of +rank. + +It is only the man whose intellect is clouded by his sexual impulses +that could give the name of _the fair sex_ to that under-sized, +narrow-shouldered, broad-hipped, and short-legged race; for the whole +beauty of the sex is bound up with this impulse. Instead of calling +them beautiful, there would be more warrant for describing women as +the un-aesthetic sex. Neither for music, nor for poetry, nor for fine +art, have they really and truly any sense or susceptibility; it is a +mere mockery if they make a pretence of it in order to assist their +endeavor to please. Hence, as a result of this, they are incapable of +taking a _purely objective interest_ in anything; and the reason of it +seems to me to be as follows. A man tries to acquire _direct_ mastery +over things, either by understanding them, or by forcing them to do +his will. But a woman is always and everywhere reduced to obtaining +this mastery _indirectly_, namely, through a man; and whatever direct +mastery she may have is entirely confined to him. And so it lies in +woman's nature to look upon everything only as a means for conquering +man; and if she takes an interest in anything else, it is simulated--a +mere roundabout way of gaining her ends by coquetry, and feigning what +she does not feel. Hence, even Rousseau declared: _Women have, in +general, no love for any art; they have no proper knowledge of any; +and they have no genius_.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Lettre à d'Alembert, Note xx.] + +No one who sees at all below the surface can have failed to remark the +same thing. You need only observe the kind of attention women bestow +upon a concert, an opera, or a play--the childish simplicity, for +example, with which they keep on chattering during the finest passages +in the greatest masterpieces. If it is true that the Greeks excluded +women from their theatres they were quite right in what they did; +at any rate you would have been able to hear what was said upon the +stage. In our day, besides, or in lieu of saying, _Let a woman keep +silence in the church_, it would be much to the point to say _Let a +woman keep silence in the theatre_. This might, perhaps, be put up in +big letters on the curtain. + +And you cannot expect anything else of women if you consider that the +most distinguished intellects among the whole sex have never managed +to produce a single achievement in the fine arts that is really great, +genuine, and original; or given to the world any work of permanent +value in any sphere. This is most strikingly shown in regard to +painting, where mastery of technique is at least as much within their +power as within ours--and hence they are diligent in cultivating it; +but still, they have not a single great painting to boast of, just +because they are deficient in that objectivity of mind which is so +directly indispensable in painting. They never get beyond a subjective +point of view. It is quite in keeping with this that ordinary women +have no real susceptibility for art at all; for Nature proceeds in +strict sequence--_non facit saltum_. And Huarte[1] in his _Examen de +ingenios para las scienzias_--a book which has been famous for +three hundred years--denies women the possession of all the higher +faculties. The case is not altered by particular and partial +exceptions; taken as a whole, women are, and remain, thorough-going +Philistines, and quite incurable. Hence, with that absurd arrangement +which allows them to share the rank and title of their husbands they +are a constant stimulus to his ignoble ambitions. And, further, it is +just because they are Philistines that modern society, where they +take the lead and set the tone, is in such a bad way. Napoleon's +saying--that _women have no rank_--should be adopted as the right +standpoint in determining their position in society; and as regards +their other qualities Chamfort[2] makes the very true remark: _They +are made to trade with our own weaknesses and our follies, but not +with our reason. The sympathies that exist between them and men are +skin-deep only, and do not touch the mind or the feelings or the +character_. They form the _sexus sequior_--the second sex, inferior in +every respect to the first; their infirmities should be treated +with consideration; but to show them great reverence is extremely +ridiculous, and lowers us in their eyes. When Nature made two +divisions of the human race, she did not draw the line exactly through +the middle. These divisions are polar and opposed to each other, it is +true; but the difference between them is not qualitative merely, it is +also quantitative. + +[Footnote 1: _Translator's Note_.--- Juan Huarte (1520?-1590) +practised as a physician at Madrid. The work cited by Schopenhauer is +known, and has been translated into many languages.] + +[Footnote 2: _Translator's Note_.--See _Counsels and Maxims_, p. 12, +Note.] + +This is just the view which the ancients took of woman, and the view +which people in the East take now; and their judgment as to her proper +position is much more correct than ours, with our old French notions +of gallantry and our preposterous system of reverence--that highest +product of Teutonico-Christian stupidity. These notions have served +only to make women more arrogant and overbearing; so that one is +occasionally reminded of the holy apes in Benares, who in the +consciousness of their sanctity and inviolable position, think they +can do exactly as they please. + +But in the West, the woman, and especially the _lady_, finds herself +in a false position; for woman, rightly called by the ancients, +_sexus sequior_, is by no means fit to be the object of our honor and +veneration, or to hold her head higher than man and be on equal terms +with him. The consequences of this false position are sufficiently +obvious. Accordingly, it would be a very desirable thing if this +Number-Two of the human race were in Europe also relegated to her +natural place, and an end put to that lady nuisance, which not only +moves all Asia to laughter, but would have been ridiculed by Greece +and Rome as well. It is impossible to calculate the good effects which +such a change would bring about in our social, civil and political +arrangements. There would be no necessity for the Salic law: it would +be a superfluous truism. In Europe the _lady_, strictly so-called, is +a being who should not exist at all; she should be either a housewife +or a girl who hopes to become one; and she should be brought up, not +to be arrogant, but to be thrifty and submissive. It is just because +there are such people as _ladies_ in Europe that the women of the +lower classes, that is to say, the great majority of the sex, are much +more unhappy than they are in the East. And even Lord Byron says: +_Thought of the state of women under the ancient Greeks--convenient +enough. Present state, a remnant of the barbarism of the chivalric +and the feudal ages--artificial and unnatural. They ought to mind +home--and be well fed and clothed--but not mixed in society. Well +educated, too, in religion--but to read neither poetry nor politics-- +nothing but books of piety and cookery. Music--drawing--dancing--also +a little gardening and ploughing now and then. I have seen them +mending the roads in Epirus with good success. Why not, as well as +hay-making and milking_? + +The laws of marriage prevailing in Europe consider the woman as the +equivalent of the man--start, that is to say, from a wrong position. +In our part of the world where monogamy is the rule, to marry means to +halve one's rights and double one's duties. Now, when the laws gave +women equal rights with man, they ought to have also endowed her with +a masculine intellect. But the fact is, that just in proportion as +the honors and privileges which the laws accord to women, exceed the +amount which nature gives, is there a diminution in the number +of women who really participate in these privileges; and all the +remainder are deprived of their natural rights by just so much as is +given to the others over and above their share. For the institution of +monogamy, and the laws of marriage which it entails, bestow upon +the woman an unnatural position of privilege, by considering her +throughout as the full equivalent of the man, which is by no means +the case; and seeing this, men who are shrewd and prudent very often +scruple to make so great a sacrifice and to acquiesce in so unfair an +arrangement. + +Consequently, whilst among polygamous nations every woman is provided +for, where monogamy prevails the number of married women is limited; +and there remains over a large number of women without stay or +support, who, in the upper classes, vegetate as useless old maids, and +in the lower succumb to hard work for which they are not suited; or +else become _filles de joie_, whose life is as destitute of joy as it +is of honor. But under the circumstances they become a necessity; and +their position is openly recognized as serving the special end of +warding off temptation from those women favored by fate, who have +found, or may hope to find, husbands. In London alone there are 80,000 +prostitutes. What are they but the women, who, under the institution +of monogamy have come off worse? Theirs is a dreadful fate: they are +human sacrifices offered up on the altar of monogamy. The women whose +wretched position is here described are the inevitable set-off to the +European lady with her arrogance and pretension. Polygamy is therefore +a real benefit to the female sex if it is taken as a whole. And, from +another point of view, there is no true reason why a man whose wife +suffers from chronic illness, or remains barren, or has gradually +become too old for him, should not take a second. The motives which +induce so many people to become converts to Mormonism[1] appear to +be just those which militate against the unnatural institution of +monogamy. + +[Footnote 1: _Translator's Note_.--The Mormons have recently given up +polygamy, and received the American franchise in its stead.] + +Moreover, the bestowal of unnatural rights upon women has imposed upon +them unnatural duties, and, nevertheless, a breach of these duties +makes them unhappy. Let me explain. A man may often think that his +social or financial position will suffer if he marries, unless he +makes some brilliant alliance. His desire will then be to win a woman +of his own choice under conditions other than those of marriage, such +as will secure her position and that of the children. However fair, +reasonable, fit and proper these conditions may be, and the woman +consents by foregoing that undue amount of privilege which marriage +alone can bestow, she to some extent loses her honor, because marriage +is the basis of civic society; and she will lead an unhappy life, +since human nature is so constituted that we pay an attention to the +opinion of other people which is out of all proportion to its value. +On the other hand, if she does not consent, she runs the risk either +of having to be given in marriage to a man whom she does not like, or +of being landed high and dry as an old maid; for the period during +which she has a chance of being settled for life is very short. And +in view of this aspect of the institution of monogamy, Thomasius' +profoundly learned treatise, _de Concubinatu_, is well worth reading; +for it shows that, amongst all nations and in all ages, down to the +Lutheran Reformation, concubinage was permitted; nay, that it was an +institution which was to a certain extent actually recognized by law, +and attended with no dishonor. It was only the Lutheran Reformation +that degraded it from this position. It was seen to be a further +justification for the marriage of the clergy; and then, after that, +the Catholic Church did not dare to remain behind-hand in the matter. + +There is no use arguing about polygamy; it must be taken as _de facto_ +existing everywhere, and the only question is as to how it shall be +regulated. Where are there, then, any real monogamists? We all live, +at any rate, for a time, and most of us, always, in polygamy. And so, +since every man needs many women, there is nothing fairer than to +allow him, nay, to make it incumbent upon him, to provide for many +women. This will reduce woman to her true and natural position as +a subordinate being; and the _lady_--that monster of European +civilization and Teutonico-Christian stupidity--will disappear from +the world, leaving only _women_, but no more _unhappy women_, of whom +Europe is now full. + +In India, no woman is ever independent, but in accordance with the law +of Mamu,[1] she stands under the control of her father, her husband, +her brother or her son. It is, to be sure, a revolting thing that a +widow should immolate herself upon her husband's funeral pyre; but it +is also revolting that she should spend her husband's money with her +paramours--the money for which he toiled his whole life long, in the +consoling belief that he was providing for his children. Happy are +those who have kept the middle course--_medium tenuere beati_. + +[Footnote 1: Ch. V., v. 148.] + +The first love of a mother for her child is, with the lower animals as +with men, of a purely _instinctive_ character, and so it ceases when +the child is no longer in a physically helpless condition. After that, +the first love should give way to one that is based on habit and +reason; but this often fails to make its appearance, especially where +the mother did not love the father. The love of a father for his child +is of a different order, and more likely to last; because it has its +foundation in the fact that in the child he recognizes his own inner +self; that is to say, his love for it is metaphysical in its origin. + +In almost all nations, whether of the ancient or the modern world, +even amongst the Hottentots,[1] property is inherited by the male +descendants alone; it is only in Europe that a departure has taken +place; but not amongst the nobility, however. That the property which +has cost men long years of toil and effort, and been won with so much +difficulty, should afterwards come into the hands of women, who then, +in their lack of reason, squander it in a short time, or otherwise +fool it away, is a grievance and a wrong as serious as it is common, +which should be prevented by limiting the right of women to inherit. +In my opinion, the best arrangement would be that by which women, +whether widows or daughters, should never receive anything beyond the +interest for life on property secured by mortgage, and in no case the +property itself, or the capital, except where all male descendants +fail. The people who make money are men, not women; and it follows +from this that women are neither justified in having unconditional +possession of it, nor fit persons to be entrusted with its +administration. When wealth, in any true sense of the word, that is to +say, funds, houses or land, is to go to them as an inheritance they +should never be allowed the free disposition of it. In their case a +guardian should always be appointed; and hence they should never be +given the free control of their own children, wherever it can be +avoided. The vanity of women, even though it should not prove to be +greater than that of men, has this much danger in it, that it takes an +entirely material direction. They are vain, I mean, of their personal +beauty, and then of finery, show and magnificence. That is just why +they are so much in their element in society. It is this, too, which +makes them so inclined to be extravagant, all the more as their +reasoning power is low. Accordingly we find an ancient writer +describing woman as in general of an extravagant nature--[Greek: Gynae +to synolon esti dapanaeron Physei][2] But with men vanity often takes +the direction of non-material advantages, such as intellect, learning, +courage. + +[Footnote 1: Leroy, _Lettres philosophiques sur l'intelligence et la +perfectibilité des animaux, avec quelques lettres sur l'homme_, p. +298, Paris, 1802.] + +[Footnote 2: Brunck's _Gnomici poetae graeci_, v. 115.] + +In the _Politics_[1] Aristotle explains the great disadvantage which +accrued to the Spartans from the fact that they conceded too much to +their women, by giving them the right of inheritance and dower, and a +great amount of independence; and he shows how much this contributed +to Sparta's fall. May it not be the case in France that the influence +of women, which went on increasing steadily from the time of Louis +XIII., was to blame for that gradual corruption of the Court and the +Government, which brought about the Revolution of 1789, of which all +subsequent disturbances have been the fruit? However that may be, the +false position which women occupy, demonstrated as it is, in the most +glaring way, by the institution of the _lady_, is a fundamental defect +in our social scheme, and this defect, proceeding from the very heart +of it, must spread its baneful influence in all directions. + +[Footnote 1: Bk. I, ch. 9.] + + * * * * * + +That woman is by nature meant to obey may be seen by the fact that +every woman who is placed in the unnatural position of complete +independence, immediately attaches herself to some man, by whom she +allows herself to be guided and ruled. It is because she needs a lord +and master. If she is young, it will be a lover; if she is old, a +priest. + + + + +ON NOISE. + + +Kant wrote a treatise on _The Vital Powers_. I should prefer to write +a dirge for them. The superabundant display of vitality, which takes +the form of knocking, hammering, and tumbling things about, has proved +a daily torment to me all my life long. There are people, it is +true--nay, a great many people--who smile at such things, because they +are not sensitive to noise; but they are just the very people who are +also not sensitive to argument, or thought, or poetry, or art, in a +word, to any kind of intellectual influence. The reason of it is that +the tissue of their brains is of a very rough and coarse quality. On +the other hand, noise is a torture to intellectual people. In the +biographies of almost all great writers, or wherever else their +personal utterances are recorded, I find complaints about it; in the +case of Kant, for instance, Goethe, Lichtenberg, Jean Paul; and if it +should happen that any writer has omitted to express himself on the +matter, it is only for want of an opportunity. + +This aversion to noise I should explain as follows: If you cut up a +large diamond into little bits, it will entirely lose the value it +had as a whole; and an army divided up into small bodies of soldiers, +loses all its strength. So a great intellect sinks to the level of +an ordinary one, as soon as it is interrupted and disturbed, its +attention distracted and drawn off from the matter in hand; for its +superiority depends upon its power of concentration--of bringing all +its strength to bear upon one theme, in the same way as a concave +mirror collects into one point all the rays of light that strike upon +it. Noisy interruption is a hindrance to this concentration. That is +why distinguished minds have always shown such an extreme dislike +to disturbance in any form, as something that breaks in upon and +distracts their thoughts. Above all have they been averse to that +violent interruption that comes from noise. Ordinary people are +not much put out by anything of the sort. The most sensible and +intelligent of all nations in Europe lays down the rule, _Never +Interrupt_! as the eleventh commandment. Noise is the most impertinent +of all forms of interruption. It is not only an interruption, but +also a disruption of thought. Of course, where there is nothing to +interrupt, noise will not be so particularly painful. Occasionally it +happens that some slight but constant noise continues to bother and +distract me for a time before I become distinctly conscious of it. All +I feel is a steady increase in the labor of thinking--just as though I +were trying to walk with a weight on my foot. At last I find out what +it is. Let me now, however, pass from genus to species. The most +inexcusable and disgraceful of all noises is the cracking of whips--a +truly infernal thing when it is done in the narrow resounding streets +of a town. I denounce it as making a peaceful life impossible; it puts +an end to all quiet thought. That this cracking of whips should be +allowed at all seems to me to show in the clearest way how senseless +and thoughtless is the nature of mankind. No one with anything like an +idea in his head can avoid a feeling of actual pain at this sudden, +sharp crack, which paralyzes the brain, rends the thread of +reflection, and murders thought. Every time this noise is made, it +must disturb a hundred people who are applying their minds to business +of some sort, no matter how trivial it may be; while on the thinker +its effect is woeful and disastrous, cutting his thoughts asunder, +much as the executioner's axe severs the head from the body. No sound, +be it ever so shrill, cuts so sharply into the brain as this cursed +cracking of whips; you feel the sting of the lash right inside your +head; and it affects the brain in the same way as touch affects a +sensitive plant, and for the same length of time. + +With all due respect for the most holy doctrine of utility, I really +cannot see why a fellow who is taking away a wagon-load of gravel or +dung should thereby obtain the right to kill in the bud the thoughts +which may happen to be springing up in ten thousand heads--the number +he will disturb one after another in half an hour's drive through the +town. Hammering, the barking of dogs, and the crying of children are +horrible to hear; but your only genuine assassin of thought is the +crack of a whip; it exists for the purpose of destroying every +pleasant moment of quiet thought that any one may now and then enjoy. +If the driver had no other way of urging on his horse than by making +this most abominable of all noises, it would be excusable; but quite +the contrary is the case. This cursed cracking of whips is not only +unnecessary, but even useless. Its aim is to produce an effect upon +the intelligence of the horse; but through the constant abuse of it, +the animal becomes habituated to the sound, which falls upon blunted +feelings and produces no effect at all. The horse does not go any +faster for it. You have a remarkable example of this in the ceaseless +cracking of his whip on the part of a cab-driver, while he is +proceeding at a slow pace on the lookout for a fare. If he were to +give his horse the slightest touch with the whip, it would have much +more effect. Supposing, however, that it were absolutely necessary to +crack the whip in order to keep the horse constantly in mind of its +presence, it would be enough to make the hundredth part of the noise. +For it is a well-known fact that, in regard to sight and hearing, +animals are sensitive to even the faintest indications; they are alive +to things that we can scarcely perceive. The most surprising instances +of this are furnished by trained dogs and canary birds. + +It is obvious, therefore, that here we have to do with an act of pure +wantonness; nay, with an impudent defiance offered to those members of +the community who work with their heads by those who work with their +hands. That such infamy should be tolerated in a town is a piece of +barbarity and iniquity, all the more as it could easily be remedied by +a police-notice to the effect that every lash shall have a knot at the +end of it. There can be no harm in drawing the attention of the mob to +the fact that the classes above them work with their heads, for any +kind of headwork is mortal anguish to the man in the street. A fellow +who rides through the narrow alleys of a populous town with unemployed +post-horses or cart-horses, and keeps on cracking a whip several yards +long with all his might, deserves there and then to stand down and +receive five really good blows with a stick. + +All the philanthropists in the world, and all the legislators, meeting +to advocate and decree the total abolition of corporal punishment, +will never persuade me to the contrary! There is something even more +disgraceful than what I have just mentioned. Often enough you may see +a carter walking along the street, quite alone, without any horses, +and still cracking away incessantly; so accustomed has the wretch +become to it in consequence of the unwarrantable toleration of this +practice. A man's body and the needs of his body are now everywhere +treated with a tender indulgence. Is the thinking mind then, to be +the only thing that is never to obtain the slightest measure of +consideration or protection, to say nothing of respect? Carters, +porters, messengers--these are the beasts of burden amongst mankind; +by all means let them be treated justly, fairly, indulgently, and with +forethought; but they must not be permitted to stand in the way of +the higher endeavors of humanity by wantonly making a noise. How many +great and splendid thoughts, I should like to know, have been lost to +the world by the crack of a whip? If I had the upper hand, I should +soon produce in the heads of these people an indissoluble association +of ideas between cracking a whip and getting a whipping. + +Let us hope that the more intelligent and refined among the nations +will make a beginning in this matter, and then that the Germans may +take example by it and follow suit.[1] Meanwhile, I may quote what +Thomas Hood says of them[2]: _For a musical nation, they are the most +noisy I ever met with_. That they are so is due to the fact, not that +they are more fond of making a noise than other people--they would +deny it if you asked them--but that their senses are obtuse; +consequently, when they hear a noise, it does not affect them much. It +does not disturb them in reading or thinking, simply because they do +not think; they only smoke, which is their substitute for thought. The +general toleration of unnecessary noise--the slamming of doors, for +instance, a very unmannerly and ill-bred thing--is direct evidence +that the prevailing habit of mind is dullness and lack of thought. In +Germany it seems as though care were taken that no one should ever +think for mere noise--to mention one form of it, the way in which +drumming goes on for no purpose at all. + +[Footnote 1: According to a notice issued by the Society for the +Protection of Animals in Munich, the superfluous whipping and the +cracking of whips were, in December, 1858, positively forbidden in +Nuremberg.] + +[Footnote 2: In _Up the Rhine_.] + +Finally, as regards the literature of the subject treated of in this +chapter, I have only one work to recommend, but it is a good one. I +refer to a poetical epistle in _terzo rimo_ by the famous painter +Bronzino, entitled _De' Romori: a Messer Luca Martini_. It gives a +detailed description of the torture to which people are put by the +various noises of a small Italian town. Written in a tragicomic style, +it is very amusing. The epistle may be found in _Opere burlesche del +Berni, Aretino ed altri_, Vol. II., p. 258; apparently published in +Utrecht in 1771. + + + + +A FEW PARABLES. + + +In a field of ripening corn I came to a place which had been trampled +down by some ruthless foot; and as I glanced amongst the countless +stalks, every one of them alike, standing there so erect and bearing +the full weight of the ear, I saw a multitude of different flowers, +red and blue and violet. How pretty they looked as they grew there so +naturally with their little foliage! But, thought I, they are quite +useless; they bear no fruit; they are mere weeds, suffered to remain +only because there is no getting rid of them. And yet, but for these +flowers, there would be nothing to charm the eye in that wilderness +of stalks. They are emblematic of poetry and art, which, in civic +life--so severe, but still useful and not without its fruit--play the +same part as flowers in the corn. + + * * * * * + +There are some really beautifully landscapes in the world, but the +human figures in them are poor, and you had not better look at them. + + * * * * * + +The fly should be used as the symbol of impertinence and audacity; for +whilst all other animals shun man more than anything else, and run +away even before he comes near them, the fly lights upon his very +nose. + + * * * * * + +Two Chinamen traveling in Europe went to the theatre for the first +time. One of them did nothing but study the machinery, and he +succeeded in finding out how it was worked. The other tried to get at +the meaning of the piece in spite of his ignorance of the language. +Here you have the Astronomer and the Philosopher. + + * * * * * + +Wisdom which is only theoretical and never put into practice, is like +a double rose; its color and perfume are delightful, but it withers +away and leaves no seed. + +No rose without a thorn. Yes, but many a thorn without a rose. + + * * * * * + +A wide-spreading apple-tree stood in full bloom, and behind it a +straight fir raised its dark and tapering head. _Look at the thousands +of gay blossoms which cover me everywhere_, said the apple-tree; _what +have you to show in comparison? Dark-green needles! That is true_, +replied the fir, _but when winter comes, you will be bared of your +glory; and I shall be as I am now_. + + * * * * * + +Once, as I was botanizing under an oak, I found amongst a number +of other plants of similar height one that was dark in color, with +tightly closed leaves and a stalk that was very straight and stiff. +When I touched it, it said to me in firm tones: _Let me alone; I am +not for your collection, like these plants to which Nature has given +only a single year of life. I am a little oak_. + +So it is with a man whose influence is to last for hundreds of years. +As a child, as a youth, often even as a full-grown man, nay, his whole +life long, he goes about among his fellows, looking like them and +seemingly as unimportant. But let him alone; he will not die. Time +will come and bring those who know how to value him. + + * * * * * + +The man who goes up in a balloon does not feel as though he were +ascending; he only sees the earth sinking deeper under him. + +There is a mystery which only those will understand who feel the truth +of it. + + * * * * * + +Your estimation of a man's size will be affected by the distance at +which you stand from him, but in two entirely opposite ways according +as it is his physical or his mental stature that you are considering. +The one will seem smaller, the farther off you move; the other, +greater. + + * * * * * + +Nature covers all her works with a varnish of beauty, like the tender +bloom that is breathed, as it were, on the surface of a peach or a +plum. Painters and poets lay themselves out to take off this varnish, +to store it up, and give it us to be enjoyed at our leisure. We drink +deep of this beauty long before we enter upon life itself; and when +afterwards we come to see the works of Nature for ourselves, the +varnish is gone: the artists have used it up and we have enjoyed it in +advance. Thus it is that the world so often appears harsh and devoid +of charm, nay, actually repulsive. It were better to leave us to +discover the varnish for ourselves. This would mean that we should +not enjoy it all at once and in large quantities; we should have no +finished pictures, no perfect poems; but we should look at all things +in that genial and pleasing light in which even now a child of Nature +sometimes sees them--some one who has not anticipated his aesthetic +pleasures by the help of art, or taken the charms of life too early. + + * * * * * + +The Cathedral in Mayence is so shut in by the houses that are built +round about it, that there is no one spot from which you can see it +as a whole. This is symbolic of everything great or beautiful in the +world. It ought to exist for its own sake alone, but before very long +it is misused to serve alien ends. People come from all directions +wanting to find in it support and maintenance for themselves; they +stand in the way and spoil its effect. To be sure, there is nothing +surprising in this, for in a world of need and imperfection everything +is seized upon which can be used to satisfy want. Nothing is exempt +from this service, no, not even those very things which arise only +when need and want are for a moment lost sight of--the beautiful and +the true, sought for their own sakes. + +This is especially illustrated and corroborated in the case of +institutions--whether great or small, wealthy or poor, founded, no +matter in what century or in what land, to maintain and advance human +knowledge, and generally to afford help to those intellectual efforts +which ennoble the race. Wherever these institutions may be, it is not +long before people sneak up to them under the pretence of wishing to +further those special ends, while they are really led on by the desire +to secure the emoluments which have been left for their furtherance, +and thus to satisfy certain coarse and brutal instincts of their own. +Thus it is that we come to have so many charlatans in every branch +of knowledge. The charlatan takes very different shapes according +to circumstances; but at bottom he is a man who cares nothing about +knowledge for its own sake, and only strives to gain the semblance +of it that he may use it for his own personal ends, which are always +selfish and material. + + * * * * * + +Every hero is a Samson. The strong man succumbs to the intrigues of +the weak and the many; and if in the end he loses all patience he +crushes both them and himself. Or he is like Gulliver at Lilliput, +overwhelmed by an enormous number of little men. + + * * * * * + +A mother gave her children Aesop's fables to read, in the hope of +educating and improving their minds; but they very soon brought the +book back, and the eldest, wise beyond his years, delivered himself as +follows: _This is no book for us; it's much too childish and stupid. +You can't make us believe that foxes and wolves and ravens are able to +talk; we've got beyond stories of that kind_! + +In these young hopefuls you have the enlightened Rationalists of the +future. + + * * * * * + +A number of porcupines huddled together for warmth on a cold day in +winter; but, as they began to prick one another with their quills, +they were obliged to disperse. However the cold drove them together +again, when just the same thing happened. At last, after many turns of +huddling and dispersing, they discovered that they would be best off +by remaining at a little distance from one another. In the same way +the need of society drives the human porcupines together, only to be +mutually repelled by the many prickly and disagreeable qualities of +their nature. The moderate distance which they at last discover to be +the only tolerable condition of intercourse, is the code of politeness +and fine manners; and those who transgress it are roughly told--in +the English phrase--_to keep their distance_. By this arrangement the +mutual need of warmth is only very moderately satisfied; but then +people do not get pricked. A man who has some heat in himself prefers +to remain outside, where he will neither prick other people nor get +pricked himself. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10732 *** |