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diff --git a/old/10741.txt b/old/10741.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6b0b8cf --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10741.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4134 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Essays Of Arthur Schopenhauer: +The Wisdom of Life, by Arthur Schopenhauer + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Essays Of Arthur Schopenhauer: The Wisdom of Life + +Author: Arthur Schopenhauer + +Release Date: January 18, 2004 [EBook #10741] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAYS OF SCHOPENHAUER *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + +THE ESSAYS + +OF + +ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER + +TRANSLATED BY + +T. BAILEY SAUNDERS, M.A. + + + +THE WISDOM OF LIFE. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + CHAPTER + INTRODUCTION + I. DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT + II. PERSONALITY, OR WHAT A MAN IS + III. PROPERTY, OR WHAT A MAN HAS + IV. POSITION, OR A MAN'S PLACE IN THE ESTIMATION OF OTHERS-- + Sect. 1. Reputation + " 2. Pride + " 3. Rank + " 4. Honor + " 5. Fame + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +In these pages I shall speak of _The Wisdom of Life_ in the common +meaning of the term, as the art, namely, of ordering our lives so as +to obtain the greatest possible amount of pleasure and success; an art +the theory of which may be called _Eudaemonology_, for it teaches us +how to lead a happy existence. Such an existence might perhaps be +defined as one which, looked at from a purely objective point of +view, or, rather, after cool and mature reflection--for the question +necessarily involves subjective considerations,--would be decidedly +preferable to non-existence; implying that we should cling to it for +its own sake, and not merely from the fear of death; and further, that +we should never like it to come to an end. + +Now whether human life corresponds, or could possibly correspond, +to this conception of existence, is a question to which, as is +well-known, my philosophical system returns a negative answer. On the +eudaemonistic hypothesis, however, the question must be answered in +the affirmative; and I have shown, in the second volume of my chief +work (ch. 49), that this hypothesis is based upon a fundamental +mistake. Accordingly, in elaborating the scheme of a happy existence, +I have had to make a complete surrender of the higher metaphysical and +ethical standpoint to which my own theories lead; and everything I +shall say here will to some extent rest upon a compromise; in so far, +that is, as I take the common standpoint of every day, and embrace +the error which is at the bottom of it. My remarks, therefore, will +possess only a qualified value, for the very word _eudaemonology_ is a +euphemism. Further, I make no claims to completeness; partly because +the subject is inexhaustible, and partly because I should otherwise +have to say over again what has been already said by others. + +The only book composed, as far as I remember, with a like purpose to +that which animates this collection of aphorisms, is Cardan's _De +utilitate ex adversis capienda_, which is well worth reading, and may +be used to supplement the present work. Aristotle, it is true, has a +few words on eudaemonology in the fifth chapter of the first book +of his _Rhetoric_; but what he says does not come to very much. +As compilation is not my business, I have made no use of these +predecessors; more especially because in the process of compiling, +individuality of view is lost, and individuality of view is the kernel +of works of this kind. In general, indeed, the wise in all ages have +always said the same thing, and the fools, who at all times form the +immense majority, have in their way too acted alike, and done just the +opposite; and so it will continue. For, as Voltaire says, _we shall +leave this world as foolish and as wicked as we found it on our +arrival_. + + + + +THE WISDOM OF LIFE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT. + + +Aristotle[1] divides the blessings of life into three classes--those +which come to us from without, those of the soul, and those of the +body. Keeping nothing of this division but the number, I observe that +the fundamental differences in human lot may be reduced to three +distinct classes: + +[Footnote 1: _Eth. Nichom_., I. 8.] + +(1) What a man is: that is to say, personality, in the widest sense +of the word; under which are included health, strength, beauty, +temperament, moral character, intelligence, and education. + +(2) What a man has: that is, property and possessions of every kind. + +(3) How a man stands in the estimation of others: by which is to be +understood, as everybody knows, what a man is in the eyes of his +fellowmen, or, more strictly, the light in which they regard him. This +is shown by their opinion of him; and their opinion is in its turn +manifested by the honor in which he is held, and by his rank and +reputation. + +The differences which come under the first head are those which Nature +herself has set between man and man; and from this fact alone we may +at once infer that they influence the happiness or unhappiness of +mankind in a much more vital and radical way than those contained +under the two following heads, which are merely the effect of human +arrangements. Compared with _genuine personal advantages_, such as a +great mind or a great heart, all the privileges of rank or birth, even +of royal birth, are but as kings on the stage, to kings in real life. +The same thing was said long ago by Metrodorus, the earliest disciple +of Epicurus, who wrote as the title of one of his chapters, _The +happiness we receive from ourselves is greater than that which we +obtain from our surroundings_[1] And it is an obvious fact, which +cannot be called in question, that the principal element in a man's +well-being,--indeed, in the whole tenor of his existence,--is what he +is made of, his inner constitution. For this is the immediate source +of that inward satisfaction or dissatisfaction resulting from the +sum total of his sensations, desires and thoughts; whilst his +surroundings, on the other hand, exert only a mediate or indirect +influence upon him. This is why the same external events or +circumstances affect no two people alike; even with perfectly similar +surroundings every one lives in a world of his own. For a man has +immediate apprehension only of his own ideas, feelings and volitions; +the outer world can influence him only in so far as it brings these to +life. The world in which a man lives shapes itself chiefly by the way +in which he looks at it, and so it proves different to different +men; to one it is barren, dull, and superficial; to another rich, +interesting, and full of meaning. On hearing of the interesting events +which have happened in the course of a man's experience, many people +will wish that similar things had happened in their lives too, +completely forgetting that they should be envious rather of the mental +aptitude which lent those events the significance they possess when he +describes them; to a man of genius they were interesting adventures; +but to the dull perceptions of an ordinary individual they would have +been stale, everyday occurrences. This is in the highest degree the +case with many of Goethe's and Byron's poems, which are obviously +founded upon actual facts; where it is open to a foolish reader to +envy the poet because so many delightful things happened to him, +instead of envying that mighty power of phantasy which was capable +of turning a fairly common experience into something so great and +beautiful. + +[Footnote 1: Cf. Clemens Alex. Strom. II., 21.] + +In the same way, a person of melancholy temperament will make a scene +in a tragedy out of what appears to the sanguine man only in the light +of an interesting conflict, and to a phlegmatic soul as something +without any meaning;--all of which rests upon the fact that every +event, in order to be realized and appreciated, requires the +co-operation of two factors, namely, a subject and an object, although +these are as closely and necessarily connected as oxygen and hydrogen +in water. When therefore the objective or external factor in an +experience is actually the same, but the subjective or personal +appreciation of it varies, the event is just as much a different one +in the eyes of different persons as if the objective factors had not +been alike; for to a blunt intelligence the fairest and best object in +the world presents only a poor reality, and is therefore only poorly +appreciated,--like a fine landscape in dull weather, or in the +reflection of a bad _camera obscura_. In plain language, every man +is pent up within the limits of his own consciousness, and cannot +directly get beyond those limits any more than he can get beyond his +own skin; so external aid is not of much use to him. On the stage, one +man is a prince, another a minister, a third a servant or a soldier or +a general, and so on,--mere external differences: the inner reality, +the kernel of all these appearances is the same--a poor player, with +all the anxieties of his lot. In life it is just the same. Differences +of rank and wealth give every man his part to play, but this by no +means implies a difference of inward happiness and pleasure; here, +too, there is the same being in all--a poor mortal, with his hardships +and troubles. Though these may, indeed, in every case proceed from +dissimilar causes, they are in their essential nature much the same in +all their forms, with degrees of intensity which vary, no doubt, but +in no wise correspond to the part a man has to play, to the presence +or absence of position and wealth. Since everything which exists or +happens for a man exists only in his consciousness and happens for it +alone, the most essential thing for a man is the constitution of this +consciousness, which is in most cases far more important than the +circumstances which go to form its contents. All the pride and +pleasure of the world, mirrored in the dull consciousness of a fool, +are poor indeed compared with the imagination of Cervantes writing his +_Don Quixote_ in a miserable prison. The objective half of life and +reality is in the hand of fate, and accordingly takes various forms in +different cases: the subjective half is ourself, and in essentials is +always remains the same. + +Hence the life of every man is stamped with the same character +throughout, however much his external circumstances may alter; it is +like a series of variations on a single theme. No one can get beyond +his own individuality. An animal, under whatever circumstances it +is placed, remains within the narrow limits to which nature has +irrevocably consigned it; so that our endeavors to make a pet happy +must always keep within the compass of its nature, and be restricted +to what it can feel. So it is with man; the measure of the happiness +he can attain is determined beforehand by his individuality. More +especially is this the case with the mental powers, which fix once for +all his capacity for the higher kinds of pleasure. If these powers are +small, no efforts from without, nothing that his fellowmen or that +fortune can do for him, will suffice to raise him above the ordinary +degree of human happiness and pleasure, half animal though it be; his +only resources are his sensual appetite,--a cozy and cheerful family +life at the most,--low company and vulgar pastime; even education, on +the whole, can avail little, if anything, for the enlargement of his +horizon. For the highest, most varied and lasting pleasures are those +of the mind, however much our youth may deceive us on this point; and +the pleasures of the mind turn chiefly on the powers of the mind. It +is clear, then, that our happiness depends in a great degree upon what +we _are_, upon our individuality, whilst lot or destiny is generally +taken to mean only what we _have_, or our _reputation_. Our lot, +in this sense, may improve; but we do not ask much of it if we are +inwardly rich: on the other hand, a fool remains a fool, a dull +blockhead, to his last hour, even though he were surrounded by houris +in paradise. This is why Goethe, in the _West-oestliclien Divan_, says +that every man, whether he occupies a low position in life, or emerges +as its victor, testifies to personality as the greatest factor in +happiness:-- + + _Volk und Knecht und Uberwinder + Sie gestehen, zu jeder Zeit, + Hoechtes Glueck der Erdenkinder + Sei nur die Persoenlichkeit_. + +Everything confirms the fact that the subjective element in life is +incomparably more important for our happiness and pleasure than the +objective, from such sayings as _Hunger is the best sauce_, and _Youth +and Age cannot live together_, up to the life of the Genius and the +Saint. Health outweighs all other blessings so much that one may +really say that a healthy beggar is happier than an ailing king. A +quiet and cheerful temperament, happy in the enjoyment of a perfectly +sound physique, an intellect clear, lively, penetrating and seeing +things as they are, a moderate and gentle will, and therefore a good +conscience--these are privileges which no rank or wealth can make up +for or replace. For what a man is in himself, what accompanies him +when he is alone, what no one can give or take away, is obviously more +essential to him than everything he has in the way of possessions, or +even what he may be in the eyes of the world. An intellectual man in +complete solitude has excellent entertainment in his own thoughts and +fancies, while no amount of diversity or social pleasure, theatres, +excursions and amusements, can ward off boredom from a dullard. A +good, temperate, gentle character can be happy in needy circumstances, +whilst a covetous, envious and malicious man, even if he be the +richest in the world, goes miserable. Nay more; to one who has the +constant delight of a special individuality, with a high degree of +intellect, most of the pleasures which are run after by mankind are +simply superfluous; they are even a trouble and a burden. And so +Horace says of himself, that, however many are deprived of the +fancy-goods of life, there is one at least who can live without +them:-- + + _Gemmas, marmor, ebur, Tyrrhena sigilla, tabellas, + Argentum, vestes, Gaetulo murice tinctas + Sunt qui non habeant, est qui non curat habere_; + +and when Socrates saw various articles of luxury spread out for sale, +he exclaimed: _How much there is in the world I do not want_. + +So the first and most essential element in our life's happiness is +what we are,--our personality, if for no other reason than that it is +a constant factor coming into play under all circumstances: besides, +unlike the blessings which are described under the other two heads, it +is not the sport of destiny and cannot be wrested from us;--and, so +far, it is endowed with an absolute value in contrast to the merely +relative worth of the other two. The consequence of this is that it is +much more difficult than people commonly suppose to get a hold on a +man from without. But here the all-powerful agent, Time, comes in +and claims its rights, and before its influence physical and mental +advantages gradually waste away. Moral character alone remains +inaccessible to it. In view of the destructive effect of time, it +seems, indeed, as if the blessings named under the other two heads, +of which time cannot directly rob us, were superior to those of the +first. Another advantage might be claimed for them, namely, that being +in their very nature objective and external, they are attainable, and +every one is presented with the possibility, at least, of coming into +possession of them; whilst what is subjective is not open to us to +acquire, but making its entry by a kind of _divine right_, it remains +for life, immutable, inalienable, an inexorable doom. Let me quote +those lines in which Goethe describes how an unalterable destiny is +assigned to every man at the hour of his birth, so that he can develop +only in the lines laid down for him, as it were, by the conjunctions +of the stars: and how the Sybil and the prophets declare that +_himself_ a man can never escape, nor any power of time avail to +change the path on which his life is cast:-- + + _Wie an dem Tag, der dich der Welt verliehen, + Die Sonne stand zum Grusse der Planeten, + Bist alsobald und fort und fort gediehen, + Nach dem Gesetz, wonach du angetreten. + So musst du sein, dir kannst du nicht entfliehen, + So tagten schon Sybillen und Propheten; + Und keine Zeit, und keine Macht zerstueckelt + Gepraegte Form, die lebend sich entwickelt_. + +The only thing that stands in our power to achieve, is to make the +most advantageous use possible of the personal qualities we possess, +and accordingly to follow such pursuits only as will call them into +play, to strive after the kind of perfection of which they admit and +to avoid every other; consequently, to choose the position, occupation +and manner of life which are most suitable for their development. + +Imagine a man endowed with herculean strength who is compelled by +circumstances to follow a sedentary occupation, some minute exquisite +work of the hands, for example, or to engage in study and mental +labor demanding quite other powers, and just those which he has not +got,--compelled, that is, to leave unused the powers in which he is +pre-eminently strong; a man placed like this will never feel happy all +his life through. Even more miserable will be the lot of the man +with intellectual powers of a very high order, who has to leave them +undeveloped and unemployed, in the pursuit of a calling which does not +require them, some bodily labor, perhaps, for which his strength is +insufficient. Still, in a case of this kind, it should be our care, +especially in youth, to avoid the precipice of presumption, and not +ascribe to ourselves a superfluity of power which is not there. + +Since the blessings described under the first head decidedly outweigh +those contained under the other two, it is manifestly a wiser course +to aim at the maintenance of our health and the cultivation of our +faculties, than at the amassing of wealth; but this must not be +mistaken as meaning that we should neglect to acquire an adequate +supply of the necessaries of life. Wealth, in the strict sense of the +word, that is, great superfluity, can do little for our happiness; and +many rich people feel unhappy just because they are without any true +mental culture or knowledge, and consequently have no objective +interests which would qualify them for intellectual occupations. For +beyond the satisfaction of some real and natural necessities, all that +the possession of wealth can achieve has a very small influence upon +our happiness, in the proper sense of the word; indeed, wealth rather +disturbs it, because the preservation of property entails a great many +unavoidable anxieties. And still men are a thousand times more intent +on becoming rich than on acquiring culture, though it is quite certain +that what a man _is_ contributes much more to his happiness than +what he _has_. So you may see many a man, as industrious as an ant, +ceaselessly occupied from morning to night in the endeavor to increase +his heap of gold. Beyond the narrow horizon of means to this end, he +knows nothing; his mind is a blank, and consequently unsusceptible to +any other influence. The highest pleasures, those of the intellect, +are to him inaccessible, and he tries in vain to replace them by the +fleeting pleasures of sense in which he indulges, lasting but a brief +hour and at tremendous cost. And if he is lucky, his struggles result +in his having a really great pile of gold, which he leaves to +his heir, either to make it still larger, or to squander it in +extravagance. A life like this, though pursued with a sense of +earnestness and an air of importance, is just as silly as many another +which has a fool's cap for its symbol. + +_What a man has in himself_ is, then, the chief element in his +happiness. Because this is, as a rule, so very little, most of those +who are placed beyond the struggle with penury feel at bottom quite as +unhappy as those who are still engaged in it. Their minds are vacant, +their imagination dull, their spirits poor, and so they are driven to +the company of those like them--for _similis simili gaudet_--where +they make common pursuit of pastime and entertainment, consisting +for the most part in sensual pleasure, amusement of every kind, and +finally, in excess and libertinism. A young man of rich family enters +upon life with a large patrimony, and often runs through it in an +incredibly short space of time, in vicious extravagance; and why? +Simply because, here too, the mind is empty and void, and so the man +is bored with existence. He was sent forth into the world outwardly +rich but inwardly poor, and his vain endeavor was to make his +external wealth compensate for his inner poverty, by trying to obtain +everything _from without_, like an old man who seeks to strengthen +himself as King David or Marechal de Rex tried to do. And so in the +end one who is inwardly poor comes to be also poor outwardly. + +I need not insist upon the importance of the other two kinds of +blessings which make up the happiness of human life; now-a-days the +value of possessing them is too well known to require advertisement. +The third class, it is true, may seem, compared with the second, of +a very ethereal character, as it consists only of other people's +opinions. Still every one has to strive for reputation, that is to +say, a good name. Rank, on the other hand, should be aspired to only +by those who serve the state, and fame by very few indeed. In any +case, reputation is looked upon as a priceless treasure, and fame as +the most precious of all the blessings a man can attain,--the Golden +Fleece, as it were, of the elect: whilst only fools will prefer rank +to property. The second and third classes, moreover, are reciprocally +cause and effect; so far, that is, as Petronius' maxim, _habes +habeberis_, is true; and conversely, the favor of others, in all its +forms, often puts us in the way of getting what we want. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +PERSONALITY, OR WHAT A MAN IS. + + +We have already seen, in general, that what a man _is_ contributes +much more to his happiness than what he _has_, or how he is regarded +by others. What a man is, and so what he has in his own person, is +always the chief thing to consider; for his individuality accompanies +him always and everywhere, and gives its color to all his experiences. +In every kind of enjoyment, for instance, the pleasure depends +principally upon the man himself. Every one admits this in regard to +physical, and how much truer it is of intellectual, pleasure. When we +use that English expression, "to enjoy one's self," we are employing a +very striking and appropriate phrase; for observe--one says, not "he +enjoys Paris," but "he enjoys himself in Paris." To a man possessed of +an ill-conditioned individuality, all pleasure is like delicate wine +in a mouth made bitter with gall. Therefore, in the blessings as well +as in the ills of life, less depends upon what befalls us than upon +the way in which it is met, that is, upon the kind and degree of our +general susceptibility. What a man is and has in himself,--in a word +personality, with all it entails, is the only immediate and direct +factor in his happiness and welfare. All else is mediate and indirect, +and its influence can be neutralized and frustrated; but the influence +of personality never. This is why the envy which personal qualities +excite is the most implacable of all,--as it is also the most +carefully dissembled. + +Further, the constitution of our consciousness is the ever present +and lasting element in all we do or suffer; our individuality is +persistently at work, more or less, at every moment of our life: all +other influences are temporal, incidental, fleeting, and subject to +every kind of chance and change. This is why Aristotle says: _It is +not wealth but character that lasts_.[1] + + [Greek: --hae gar phusis bebion ou ta chraemata] + +[Footnote 1: Eth. Eud., vii. 2. 37:] + +And just for the same reason we can more easily bear a misfortune +which comes to us entirely from without, than one which we have drawn +upon ourselves; for fortune may always change, but not character. +Therefore, subjective blessings,--a noble nature, a capable head, a +joyful temperament, bright spirits, a well-constituted, perfectly +sound physique, in a word, _mens sana in corpore sano_, are the first +and most important elements in happiness; so that we should be +more intent on promoting and preserving such qualities than on the +possession of external wealth and external honor. + +And of all these, the one which makes us the most directly happy is +a genial flow of good spirits; for this excellent quality is its own +immediate reward. The man who is cheerful and merry has always a +good reason for being so,--the fact, namely, that he is so. There is +nothing which, like this quality, can so completely replace the loss +of every other blessing. If you know anyone who is young, handsome, +rich and esteemed, and you want to know, further, if he is happy, ask, +Is he cheerful and genial?--and if he is, what does it matter whether +he is young or old, straight or humpbacked, poor or rich?--he is +happy. In my early days I once opened an old book and found these +words: _If you laugh a great deal, you are happy; if you cry a great +deal, you are unhappy_;--a very simple remark, no doubt; but just +because it is so simple I have never been able to forget it, even +though it is in the last degree a truism. So if cheerfulness knocks +at our door, we should throw it wide open, for it never comes +inopportunely; instead of that, we often make scruples about letting +it in. We want to be quite sure that we have every reason to be +contented; then we are afraid that cheerfulness of spirits may +interfere with serious reflections or weighty cares. Cheerfulness is a +direct and immediate gain,--the very coin, as it were, of happiness, +and not, like all else, merely a cheque upon the bank; for it alone +makes us immediately happy in the present moment, and that is the +highest blessing for beings like us, whose existence is but an +infinitesimal moment between two eternities. To secure and promote +this feeling of cheerfulness should be the supreme aim of all our +endeavors after happiness. + +Now it is certain that nothing contributes so little to cheerfulness +as riches, or so much, as health. Is it not in the lower classes, the +so-called working classes, more especially those of them who live in +the country, that we see cheerful and contented faces? and is it +not amongst the rich, the upper classes, that we find faces full of +ill-humor and vexation? Consequently we should try as much as possible +to maintain a high degree of health; for cheerfulness is the very +flower of it. I need hardly say what one must do to be healthy--avoid +every kind of excess, all violent and unpleasant emotion, all mental +overstrain, take daily exercise in the open air, cold baths and such +like hygienic measures. For without a proper amount of daily exercise +no one can remain healthy; all the processes of life demand exercise +for the due performance of their functions, exercise not only of the +parts more immediately concerned, but also of the whole body. For, as +Aristotle rightly says, _Life is movement_; it is its very essence. +Ceaseless and rapid motion goes on in every part of the organism. +The heart, with its complicated double systole and diastole, beats +strongly and untiringly; with twenty-eight beats it has to drive the +whole of the blood through arteries, veins and capillaries; the lungs +pump like a steam-engine, without intermission; the intestines are +always in peristaltic action; the glands are all constantly absorbing +and secreting; even the brain has a double motion of its own, with +every beat of the pulse and every breath we draw. When people can get +no exercise at all, as is the case with the countless numbers who +are condemned to a sedentary life, there is a glaring and fatal +disproportion between outward inactivity and inner tumult. For this +ceaseless internal motion requires some external counterpart, and the +want of it produces effects like those of emotion which we are obliged +to suppress. Even trees must be shaken by the wind, if they are to +thrive. The rule which finds its application here may be most briefly +expressed in Latin: _omnis motus, quo celerior, eo magis motus_. + +How much our happiness depends upon our spirits, and these again upon +our state of health, may be seen by comparing the influence which the +same external circumstances or events have upon us when we are well +and strong with the effects which they have when we are depressed and +troubled with ill-health. It is not what things are objectively and in +themselves, but what they are for us, in our way of looking at them, +that makes us happy or the reverse. As Epictetus says, _Men are not +influenced by things, but by their thoughts about things_. And, in +general, nine-tenths of our happiness depends upon health alone. With +health, everything is a source of pleasure; without it, nothing +else, whatever it may be, is enjoyable; even the other personal +blessings,--a great mind, a happy temperament--are degraded and +dwarfed for want of it. So it is really with good reason that, when +two people meet, the first thing they do is to inquire after each +other's health, and to express the hope that it is good; for good +health is by far the most important element in human happiness. It +follows from all this that the greatest of follies is to sacrifice +health for any other kind of happiness, whatever it may be, for gain, +advancement, learning or fame, let alone, then, for fleeting sensual +pleasures. Everything else should rather be postponed to it. + +But however much health may contribute to that flow of good spirits +which is so essential to our happiness, good spirits do not entirely +depend upon health; for a man may be perfectly sound in his physique +and still possess a melancholy temperament and be generally given up +to sad thoughts. The ultimate cause of this is undoubtedly to be +found in innate, and therefore unalterable, physical constitution, +especially in the more or less normal relation of a man's +sensitiveness to his muscular and vital energy. Abnormal sensitiveness +produces inequality of spirits, a predominating melancholy, with +periodical fits of unrestrained liveliness. A genius is one whose +nervous power or sensitiveness is largely in excess; as Aristotle[1] +has very correctly observed, _Men distinguished in philosophy, +politics, poetry or art appear to be all of a melancholy temperament_. +This is doubtless the passage which Cicero has in his mind when +he says, as he often does, _Aristoteles ait omnes ingeniosos +melancholicos esse_.[2] Shakespeare has very neatly expressed this +radical and innate diversity of temperament in those lines in _The +Merchant of Venice_: + +[Footnote 1: Probl. xxx., ep. 1] + +[Footnote 2: Tusc. i., 33.] + + _Nature has framed strange fellows in her time; + Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, + And laugh, like parrots at a bag-piper; + And others of such vinegar aspect, + That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, + Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable_. + +This is the difference which Plato draws between [Greek: eukolos] +and [Greek: dyskolos]--the man of _easy_, and the man of _difficult_ +disposition--in proof of which he refers to the varying degrees of +susceptibility which different people show to pleasurable and painful +impressions; so that one man will laugh at what makes another despair. +As a rule, the stronger the susceptibility to unpleasant impressions, +the weaker is the susceptibility to pleasant ones, and _vice versa_. +If it is equally possible for an event to turn out well or ill, +the [Greek: dyskolos] will be annoyed or grieved if the issue is +unfavorable, and will not rejoice, should it be happy. On the other +hand, the [Greek: eukolos] will neither worry nor fret over an +unfavorable issue, but rejoice if it turns out well. If the one is +successful in nine out of ten undertakings, he will not be pleased, +but rather annoyed that one has miscarried; whilst the other, if only +a single one succeeds, will manage to find consolation in the fact +and remain cheerful. But here is another instance of the truth, +that hardly any evil is entirely without its compensation; for the +misfortunes and sufferings which the [Greek: auskoloi], that is, +people of gloomy and anxious character, have to overcome, are, on the +whole, more imaginary and therefore less real than those which befall +the gay and careless; for a man who paints everything black, who +constantly fears the worst and takes measures accordingly, will not be +disappointed so often in this world, as one who always looks upon the +bright side of things. And when a morbid affection of the nerves, or a +derangement of the digestive organs, plays into the hands of an +innate tendency to gloom, this tendency may reach such a height that +permanent discomfort produces a weariness of life. So arises an +inclination to suicide, which even the most trivial unpleasantness may +actually bring about; nay, when the tendency attains its worst form, +it may be occasioned by nothing in particular, but a man may resolve +to put an end to his existence, simply because he is permanently +unhappy, and then coolly and firmly carry out his determination; +as may be seen by the way in which the sufferer, when placed under +supervision, as he usually is, eagerly waits to seize the first +unguarded moment, when, without a shudder, without a struggle or +recoil, he may use the now natural and welcome means of effecting his +release.[1] Even the healthiest, perhaps even the most cheerful +man, may resolve upon death under certain circumstances; when, for +instance, his sufferings, or his fears of some inevitable misfortune, +reach such a pitch as to outweigh the terrors of death. The only +difference lies in the degree of suffering necessary to bring about +the fatal act, a degree which will be high in the case of a cheerful, +and low in that of a gloomy man. The greater the melancholy, the lower +need the degree be; in the end, it may even sink to zero. But if a man +is cheerful, and his spirits are supported by good health, it requires +a high degree of suffering to make him lay hands upon himself. There +are countless steps in the scale between the two extremes of suicide, +the suicide which springs merely from a morbid intensification of +innate gloom, and the suicide of the healthy and cheerful man, who has +entirely objective grounds for putting an end to his existence. + +[Footnote 1: For a detailed description of this condition of mind _Cf_ +Esquirol, _Des maladies mentales_.] + +Beauty is partly an affair of health. It may be reckoned as a personal +advantage; though it does not, properly speaking, contribute directly +to our happiness. It does so indirectly, by impressing other people; +and it is no unimportant advantage, even in man. Beauty is an open +letter of recommendation, predisposing the heart to favor the person +who presents it. As is well said in these lines of Homer, the gift of +beauty is not lightly to be thrown away, that glorious gift which none +can bestow save the gods alone-- + + [Greek: outoi hapoblaet erti theon erikuoea dora, + ossa ken autoi dosin, ekon douk an tis eloito].[1] + +[Footnote 1: _Iliad_ 3, 65.] + +The most general survey shows us that the two foes of human happiness +are pain and boredom. We may go further, and say that in the degree in +which we are fortunate enough to get away from the one, we approach +the other. Life presents, in fact, a more or less violent oscillation +between the two. The reason of this is that each of these two poles +stands in a double antagonism to the other, external or objective, +and inner or subjective. Needy surroundings and poverty produce pain; +while, if a man is more than well off, he is bored. Accordingly, while +the lower classes are engaged in a ceaseless struggle with need, +in other words, with pain, the upper carry on a constant and often +desperate battle with boredom.[1] The inner or subjective antagonism +arises from the fact that, in the individual, susceptibility to +pain varies inversely with susceptibility to boredom, because +susceptibility is directly proportionate to mental power. Let +me explain. A dull mind is, as a rule, associated with dull +sensibilities, nerves which no stimulus can affect, a temperament, in +short, which does not feel pain or anxiety very much, however great +or terrible it may be. Now, intellectual dullness is at the bottom of +that _vacuity of soul_ which is stamped on so many faces, a state of +mind which betrays itself by a constant and lively attention to all +the trivial circumstances in the external world. This is the true +source of boredom--a continual panting after excitement, in order to +have a pretext for giving the mind and spirits something to occupy +them. The kind of things people choose for this purpose shows that +they are not very particular, as witness the miserable pastimes they +have recourse to, and their ideas of social pleasure and conversation: +or again, the number of people who gossip on the doorstep or gape out +of the window. It is mainly because of this inner vacuity of soul that +people go in quest of society, diversion, amusement, luxury of every +sort, which lead many to extravagance and misery. Nothing is so good +a protection against such misery as inward wealth, the wealth of +the mind, because the greater it grows, the less room it leaves for +boredom. The inexhaustible activity of thought! Finding ever new +material to work upon in the multifarious phenomena of self and +nature, and able and ready to form new combinations of them,--there +you have something that invigorates the mind, and apart from moments +of relaxation, sets it far above the reach of boredom. + +[Footnote 1: And the extremes meet; for the lowest state of +civilization, a nomad or wandering life, finds its counterpart in the +highest, where everyone is at times a tourist. The earlier stage was a +case of necessity; the latter is a remedy for boredom.] + +But, on the other hand, this high degree of intelligence is rooted in +a high degree of susceptibility, greater strength of will, greater +passionateness; and from the union of these qualities comes an +increased capacity for emotion, an enhanced sensibility to all mental +and even bodily pain, greater impatience of obstacles, greater +resentment of interruption;--all of which tendencies are augmented by +the power of the imagination, the vivid character of the whole range +of thought, including what is disagreeable. This applies, in various +degrees, to every step in the long scale of mental power, from the +veriest dunce to the greatest genius that ever lived. Therefore the +nearer anyone is, either from a subjective or from an objective point +of view, to one of those sources of suffering in human life, the +farther he is from the other. And so a man's natural bent will lead +him to make his objective world conform to his subjective as much as +possible; that is to say, he will take the greatest measures against +that form of suffering to which he is most liable. The wise man will, +above all, strive after freedom from pain and annoyance, quiet and +leisure, consequently a tranquil, modest life, with as few encounters +as may be; and so, after a little experience of his so-called +fellowmen, he will elect to live in retirement, or even, if he is +a man of great intellect, in solitude. For the more a man has in +himself, the less he will want from other people,--the less, indeed, +other people can be to him. This is why a high degree of intellect +tends to make a man unsocial. True, if _quality_ of intellect could be +made up for by quantity, it might be worth while to live even in the +great world; but unfortunately, a hundred fools together will not make +one wise man. + +But the individual who stands at the other end of the scale is no +sooner free from the pangs of need than he endeavors to get pastime +and society at any cost, taking up with the first person he meets, and +avoiding nothing so much as himself. For in solitude, where every one +is thrown upon his own resources, what a man has in himself comes +to light; the fool in fine raiment groans under the burden of his +miserable personality, a burden which he can never throw off, whilst +the man of talent peoples the waste places with his animating +thoughts. Seneca declares that folly is its own burden,--_omnis +stultitia laborat fastidio sui_,--a very true saying, with which may +be compared the words of Jesus, the son of Sirach, _The life of a fool +is worse than death_[1]. And, as a rule, it will be found that a man +is sociable just in the degree in which he is intellectually poor and +generally vulgar. For one's choice in this world does not go much +beyond solitude on one side and vulgarity on the other. It is said +that the most sociable of all people are the negroes; and they are at +the bottom of the scale in intellect. I remember reading once in a +French paper[2] that the blacks in North America, whether free or +enslaved, are fond of shutting themselves up in large numbers in the +smallest space, because they cannot have too much of one another's +snub-nosed company. + +[Footnote 1: Ecclesiasticus, xxii. 11.] + +[Footnote 2: _Le Commerce_, Oct. 19th, 1837.] + +The brain may be regarded as a kind of parasite of the organism, a +pensioner, as it were, who dwells with the body: and leisure, that +is, the time one has for the free enjoyment of one's consciousness or +individuality, is the fruit or produce of the rest of existence, which +is in general only labor and effort. But what does most people's +leisure yield?--boredom and dullness; except, of course, when it is +occupied with sensual pleasure or folly. How little such leisure is +worth may be seen in the way in which it is spent: and, as Ariosto +observes, how miserable are the idle hours of ignorant men!--_ozio +lungo d'uomini ignoranti_. Ordinary people think merely how they shall +_spend_ their time; a man of any talent tries to _use_ it. The reason +why people of limited intellect are apt to be bored is that their +intellect is absolutely nothing more than the means by which the +motive power of the will is put into force: and whenever there is +nothing particular to set the will in motion, it rests, and their +intellect takes a holiday, because, equally with the will, it requires +something external to bring it into play. The result is an awful +stagnation of whatever power a man has--in a word, boredom. To +counteract this miserable feeling, men run to trivialities which +please for the moment they are taken up, hoping thus to engage the +will in order to rouse it to action, and so set the intellect in +motion; for it is the latter which has to give effect to these motives +of the will. Compared with real and natural motives, these are but as +paper money to coin; for their value is only arbitrary--card games and +the like, which have been invented for this very purpose. And if there +is nothing else to be done, a man will twirl his thumbs or beat the +devil's tattoo; or a cigar may be a welcome substitute for exercising +his brains. Hence, in all countries the chief occupation of society is +card-playing,[1] and it is the gauge of its value, and an outward sign +that it is bankrupt in thought. Because people have no thoughts to +deal in, they deal cards, and try and win one another's money. Idiots! +But I do not wish to be unjust; so let me remark that it may certainly +be said in defence of card-playing that it is a preparation for the +world and for business life, because one learns thereby how to make a +clever use of fortuitous but unalterable circumstances (cards, in this +case), and to get as much out of them as one can: and to do this a man +must learn a little dissimulation, and how to put a good face upon a +bad business. But, on the other hand, it is exactly for this reason +that card-playing is so demoralizing, since the whole object of it is +to employ every kind of trick and machination in order to win +what belongs to another. And a habit of this sort, learnt at the +card-table, strikes root and pushes its way into practical life; and +in the affairs of every day a man gradually comes to regard _meum_ and +_tuum_ in much the same light as cards, and to consider that he may +use to the utmost whatever advantages he possesses, so long as he does +not come within the arm of the law. Examples of what I mean are of +daily occurrence in mercantile life. Since, then, leisure is the +flower, or rather the fruit, of existence, as it puts a man into +possession of himself, those are happy indeed who possess something +real in themselves. But what do you get from most people's +leisure?--only a good-for-nothing fellow, who is terribly bored and a +burden to himself. Let us, therefore, rejoice, dear brethren, for _we +are not children of the bondwoman, but of the free_. + +[Footnote 1: _Translator's Note_.--Card-playing to this extent is now, +no doubt, a thing of the past, at any rate amongst the nations +of northern Europe. The present fashion is rather in favor of a +dilettante interest in art or literature.] + +Further, as no land is so well off as that which requires few imports, +or none at all, so the happiest man is one who has enough in his own +inner wealth, and requires little or nothing from outside for his +maintenance, for imports are expensive things, reveal dependence, +entail danger, occasion trouble, and when all is said and done, are +a poor substitute for home produce. No man ought to expect much from +others, or, in general, from the external world. What one human being +can be to another is not a very great deal: in the end every one +stands alone, and the important thing is _who_ it is that stands +alone. Here, then, is another application of the general truth which +Goethe recognizes in _Dichtung und Wahrheit_ (Bk. III.), that in +everything a man has ultimately to appeal to himself; or, as Goldsmith +puts it in _The Traveller_: + + _Still to ourselves in every place consign'd + Our own felicity we make or find_. + +Himself is the source of the best and most a man can be or achieve. +The more this is so--the more a man finds his sources of pleasure in +himself--the happier he will be. Therefore, it is with great truth +that Aristotle[1] says, _To be happy means to be self-sufficient_. For +all other sources of happiness are in their nature most uncertain, +precarious, fleeting, the sport of chance; and so even under the most +favorable circumstances they can easily be exhausted; nay, this is +unavoidable, because they are not always within reach. And in old age +these sources of happiness must necessarily dry up:--love leaves us +then, and wit, desire to travel, delight in horses, aptitude for +social intercourse; friends and relations, too, are taken from us by +death. Then more than ever, it depends upon what a man has in himself; +for this will stick to him longest; and at any period of life it is +the only genuine and lasting source of happiness. There is not much to +be got anywhere in the world. It is filled with misery and pain; and +if a man escapes these, boredom lies in wait for him at every corner. +Nay more; it is evil which generally has the upper hand, and folly +makes the most noise. Fate is cruel, and mankind is pitiable. In such +a world as this, a man who is rich in himself is like a bright, warm, +happy room at Christmastide, while without are the frost and snow of +a December night. Therefore, without doubt, the happiest destiny on +earth is to have the rare gift of a rich individuality, and, more +especially to be possessed of a good endowment of intellect; this +is the happiest destiny, though it may not be, after all, a very +brilliant one. + +[Footnote 1: Eth. Eud, vii 2] + +There was a great wisdom in that remark which Queen Christina of +Sweden made, in her nineteenth year, about Descartes, who had then +lived for twenty years in the deepest solitude in Holland, and, apart +from report, was known to her only by a single essay: _M. Descartes_, +she said, _is the happiest of men, and his condition seems to me much +to be envied.[1]_ Of course, as was the case with Descartes, external +circumstances must be favorable enough to allow a man to be master of +his life and happiness; or, as we read in _Ecclesiastes_[2]--_Wisdom +is good together with an inheritance, and profitable unto them that +see the sun_. The man to whom nature and fate have granted the +blessing of wisdom, will be most anxious and careful to keep open +the fountains of happiness which he has in himself; and for this, +independence and leisure are necessary. To obtain them, he will be +willing to moderate his desires and harbor his resources, all the more +because he is not, like others, restricted to the external world for +his pleasures. So he will not be misled by expectations of office, or +money, or the favor and applause of his fellowmen, into surrendering +himself in order to conform to low desires and vulgar tastes; nay, in +such a case he will follow the advice that Horace gives in his epistle +to Maecenas.[3] + +[Footnote 1: _Vie de Descartes_, par Baillet. Liv. vii., ch. 10.] + +[Footnote 2: vii. 12.] + +[Footnote 3: Lib. 1., ep. 7.] + + _Nec somnum plebis laudo, satur altilium, nec + Otia divitiis Arabum liberrima muto_. + +It is a great piece of folly to sacrifice the inner for the outer man, +to give the whole or the greater part of one's quiet, leisure and +independence for splendor, rank, pomp, titles and honor. This is what +Goethe did. My good luck drew me quite in the other direction. + +The truth which I am insisting upon here, the truth, namely, that the +chief source of human happiness is internal, is confirmed by that most +accurate observation of Aristotle in the _Nichomachean Ethics_[1] that +every pleasure presupposes some sort of activity, the application of +some sort of power, without which it cannot exist. The doctrine of +Aristotle's, that a man's happiness consists in the free exercise +of his highest faculties, is also enunciated by Stobaeus in his +exposition of the Peripatetic philosophy[2]: _happiness_, he says, +_means vigorous and successful activity in all your undertakings_; and +he explains that by _vigor [Greek: aretae]_ he means _mastery_ in any +thing, whatever it be. Now, the original purpose of those forces with +which nature has endowed man is to enable him to struggle against the +difficulties which beset him on all sides. But if this struggle comes +to an end, his unemployed forces become a burden to him; and he has to +set to work and play with them,--to use them, I mean, for no purpose +at all, beyond avoiding the other source of human suffering, boredom, +to which he is at once exposed. It is the upper classes, people of +wealth, who are the greatest victims of boredom. Lucretius long ago +described their miserable state, and the truth of his description may +be still recognized to-day, in the life of every great capital--where +the rich man is seldom in his own halls, because it bores him to be +there, and still he returns thither, because he is no better off +outside;--or else he is away in post-haste to his house in the +country, as if it were on fire; and he is no sooner arrived there, +than he is bored again, and seeks to forget everything in sleep, or +else hurries back to town once more. + +[Footnote 1: i. 7 and vii. 13, 14.] + +[Footnote 2: Ecl. eth. ii., ch 7.] + + _Exit saepe foras magnis ex aedibus ille, + Esse domi quem pertaesum est, subitoque reventat, + Quippe foris nihilo melius qui sentiat esse. + Currit, agens mannos, ad villam precipitanter, + Auxilium tectis quasi ferre ardentibus instans: + Oscitat extemplo, tetigit quum limina villae; + Aut abit in somnum gravis, atque oblivia quaerit; + Aut etiam properans urbem petit atque revisit_.[1] + +[Footnote 1: III 1073.] + +In their youth, such people must have had a superfluity of muscular +and vital energy,--powers which, unlike those of the mind, cannot +maintain their full degree of vigor very long; and in later years they +either have no mental powers at all, or cannot develop any for want +of employment which would bring them into play; so that they are in a +wretched plight. _Will_, however, they still possess, for this is the +only power that is inexhaustible; and they try to stimulate their +will by passionate excitement, such as games of chance for high +stakes--undoubtedly a most degrading form of vice. And one may say +generally that if a man finds himself with nothing to do, he is sure +to choose some amusement suited to the kind of power in which he +excels,--bowls, it may be, or chess; hunting or painting; horse-racing +or music; cards, or poetry, heraldry, philosophy, or some other +dilettante interest. We might classify these interests methodically, +by reducing them to expressions of the three fundamental powers, +the factors, that is to say, which go to make up the physiological +constitution of man; and further, by considering these powers by +themselves, and apart from any of the definite aims which they may +subserve, and simply as affording three sources of possible pleasure, +out of which every man will choose what suits him, according as he +excels in one direction or another. + +First of all come the pleasures of _vital energy_, of food, drink, +digestion, rest and sleep; and there are parts of the world where it +can be said that these are characteristic and national pleasures. +Secondly, there are the pleasures of _muscular energy_, such as +walking, running, wrestling, dancing, fencing, riding and similar +athletic pursuits, which sometimes take the form of sport, and +sometimes of a military life and real warfare. Thirdly, there are the +pleasures of sensibility, such as observation, thought, feeling, or +a taste for poetry or culture, music, learning, reading, meditation, +invention, philosophy and the like. As regards the value, relative +worth and duration of each of these kinds of pleasure, a great deal +might be said, which, however, I leave the reader to supply. But every +one will see that the nobler the power which is brought into play, +the greater will be the pleasure which it gives; for pleasure always +involves the use of one's own powers, and happiness consists in a +frequent repetition of pleasure. No one will deny that in this respect +the pleasures of sensibility occupy a higher place than either of +the other two fundamental kinds; which exist in an equal, nay, in +a greater degree in brutes; it is this preponderating amount of +sensibility which distinguishes man from other animals. Now, our +mental powers are forms of sensibility, and therefore a preponderating +amount of it makes us capable of that kind of pleasure which has to do +with mind, so-called intellectual pleasure; and the more sensibility +predominates, the greater the pleasure will be.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Nature exhibits a continual progress, starting from the +mechanical and chemical activity of the inorganic world, proceeding +to the vegetable, with its dull enjoyment of self, from that to the +animal world, where intelligence and consciousness begin, at first +very weak, and only after many intermediate stages attaining its last +great development in man, whose intellect is Nature's crowning point, +the goal of all her efforts, the most perfect and difficult of all her +works. And even within the range of the human intellect, there are a +great many observable differences of degree, and it is very seldom +that intellect reaches its highest point, intelligence properly +so-called, which in this narrow and strict sense of the word, is +Nature's most consummate product, and so the rarest and most precious +thing of which the world can boast. The highest product of Nature +is the clearest degree of consciousness, in which the world mirrors +itself more plainly and completely than anywhere else. A man endowed +with this form of intelligence is in possession of what is noblest +and best on earth; and accordingly, he has a source of pleasure in +comparison with which all others are small. From his surroundings he +asks nothing but leisure for the free enjoyment of what he has got, +time, as it were, to polish his diamond. All other pleasures that are +not of the intellect are of a lower kind; for they are, one and all, +movements of will--desires, hopes, fears and ambitions, no matter to +what directed: they are always satisfied at the cost of pain, and in +the case of ambition, generally with more or less of illusion. With +intellectual pleasure, on the other hand, truth becomes clearer and +clearer. In the realm of intelligence pain has no power. Knowledge is +all in all. Further, intellectual pleasures are accessible entirely +and only through the medium of the intelligence, and are limited by +its capacity. _For all the wit there is in the world is useless to him +who has none_. Still this advantage is accompanied by a substantial +disadvantage; for the whole of Nature shows that with the growth of +intelligence comes increased capacity for pain, and it is only with +the highest degree of intelligence that suffering reaches its supreme +point.] + +The normal, ordinary man takes a vivid interest in anything only in so +far as it excites his will, that is to say, is a matter of personal +interest to him. But constant excitement of the will is never an +unmixed good, to say the least; in other words, it involves pain. +Card-playing, that universal occupation of "good society" everywhere, +is a device for providing this kind of excitement, and that, too, +by means of interests so small as to produce slight and momentary, +instead of real and permanent, pain. Card-playing is, in fact, a mere +tickling of the will.[1] + +[Footnote 1: _Vulgarity_ is, at bottom, the kind of consciousness in +which the will completely predominates over the intellect, where the +latter does nothing more than perform the service of its master, the +will. Therefore, when the will makes no demands, supplies no motives, +strong or weak, the intellect entirely loses its power, and the result +is complete vacancy of mind. Now _will without intellect_ is the most +vulgar and common thing in the world, possessed by every blockhead, +who, in the gratification of his passions, shows the stuff of which he +is made. This is the condition of mind called _vulgarity_, in which +the only active elements are the organs of sense, and that small +amount of intellect which is necessary for apprehending the data of +sense. Accordingly, the vulgar man is constantly open to all sorts of +impressions, and immediately perceives all the little trifling things +that go on in his environment: the lightest whisper, the most trivial +circumstance, is sufficient to rouse his attention; he is just like an +animal. Such a man's mental condition reveals itself in his face, in +his whole exterior; and hence that vulgar, repulsive appearance, which +is all the more offensive, if, as is usually the case, his will--the +only factor in his consciousness--is a base, selfish and altogether +bad one.] + +On the other hand, a man of powerful intellect is capable of taking +a vivid interest in things in the way of mere _knowledge_, with no +admixture of _will_; nay, such an interest is a necessity to him. It +places him in a sphere where pain is an alien,--a diviner air, where +the gods live serene. + + _[Greek: phusis bebion ou ta chraematatheoi reia xoontes][1]_ + +[Footnote 1: Odyssey IV., 805.] + +Look on these two pictures--the life of the masses, one long, dull +record of struggle and effort entirely devoted to the petty interests +of personal welfare, to misery in all its forms, a life beset by +intolerable boredom as soon as ever those aims are satisfied and the +man is thrown back upon himself, whence he can be roused again to some +sort of movement only by the wild fire of passion. On the other side +you have a man endowed with a high degree of mental power, leading an +existence rich in thought and full of life and meaning, occupied by +worthy and interesting objects as soon as ever he is free to give +himself to them, bearing in himself a source of the noblest pleasure. +What external promptings he wants come from the works of nature, and +from the contemplation of human affairs and the achievements of the +great of all ages and countries, which are thoroughly appreciated by a +man of this type alone, as being the only one who can quite understand +and feel with them. And so it is for him alone that those great ones +have really lived; it is to him that they make their appeal; the rest +are but casual hearers who only half understand either them or their +followers. Of course, this characteristic of the intellectual man +implies that he has one more need than the others, the need of +reading, observing, studying, meditating, practising, the need, in +short, of undisturbed leisure. For, as Voltaire has very rightly said, +_there are no real pleasures without real needs_; and the need of them +is why to such a man pleasures are accessible which are denied to +others,--the varied beauties of nature and art and literature. To +heap these pleasures round people who do not want them and cannot +appreciate them, is like expecting gray hairs to fall in love. A man +who is privileged in this respect leads two lives, a personal and an +intellectual life; and the latter gradually comes to be looked upon +as the true one, and the former as merely a means to it. Other people +make this shallow, empty and troubled existence an end in itself. To +the life of the intellect such a man will give the preference over +all his other occupations: by the constant growth of insight and +knowledge, this intellectual life, like a slowly-forming work of art, +will acquire a consistency, a permanent intensity, a unity which +becomes ever more and more complete; compared with which, a life +devoted to the attainment of personal comfort, a life that may broaden +indeed, but can never be deepened, makes but a poor show: and yet, +as I have said, people make this baser sort of existence an end in +itself. + +The ordinary life of every day, so far as it is not moved by passion, +is tedious and insipid; and if it is so moved, it soon becomes +painful. Those alone are happy whom nature has favored with some +superfluity of intellect, something beyond what is just necessary to +carry out the behests of their will; for it enables them to lead an +intellectual life as well, a life unattended by pain and full of vivid +interests. Mere leisure, that is to say, intellect unoccupied in the +service of the will, is not of itself sufficient: there must be a +real superfluity of power, set free from the service of the will and +devoted to that of the intellect; for, as Seneca says, _otium sine +litteris mors est et vivi hominis sepultura_--illiterate leisure is +a form of death, a living tomb. Varying with the amount of the +superfluity, there will be countless developments in this second life, +the life of the mind; it may be the mere collection and labelling of +insects, birds, minerals, coins, or the highest achievements of poetry +and philosophy. The life of the mind is not only a protection against +boredom; it also wards off the pernicious effects of boredom; it keeps +us from bad company, from the many dangers, misfortunes, losses and +extravagances which the man who places his happiness entirely in the +objective world is sure to encounter, My philosophy, for instance, has +never brought me in a six-pence; but it has spared me many an expense. + +The ordinary man places his life's happiness in things external to +him, in property, rank, wife and children, friends, society, and the +like, so that when he loses them or finds them disappointing, the +foundation of his happiness is destroyed. In other words, his centre +of gravity is not in himself; it is constantly changing its place, +with every wish and whim. If he is a man of means, one day it will +be his house in the country, another buying horses, or entertaining +friends, or traveling,--a life, in short, of general luxury, the +reason being that he seeks his pleasure in things outside him. Like +one whose health and strength are gone, he tries to regain by the use +of jellies and drugs, instead of by developing his own vital power, +the true source of what he has lost. Before proceeding to the +opposite, let us compare with this common type the man who comes +midway between the two, endowed, it may be, not exactly with +distinguished powers of mind, but with somewhat more than the ordinary +amount of intellect. He will take a dilettante interest in art, or +devote his attention to some branch of science--botany, for example, +or physics, astronomy, history, and find a great deal of pleasure in +such studies, and amuse himself with them when external forces of +happiness are exhausted or fail to satisfy him any more. Of a man like +this it may be said that his centre of gravity is partly in himself. +But a dilettante interest in art is a very different thing from +creative activity; and an amateur pursuit of science is apt to be +superficial and not to penetrate to the heart of the matter. A man +cannot entirely identify himself with such pursuits, or have his whole +existence so completely filled and permeated with them that he loses +all interest in everything else. It is only the highest intellectual +power, what we call _genius_, that attains to this degree of +intensity, making all time and existence its theme, and striving to +express its peculiar conception of the world, whether it contemplates +life as the subject of poetry or of philosophy. Hence, undisturbed +occupation with himself, his own thoughts and works, is a matter of +urgent necessity to such a man; solitude is welcome, leisure is +the highest good, and everything else is unnecessary, nay, even +burdensome. + +This is the only type of man of whom it can be said that his centre of +gravity is entirely in himself; which explains why it is that people +of this sort--and they are very rare--no matter how excellent their +character may be, do not show that warm and unlimited interest in +friends, family, and the community in general, of which others are +so often capable; for if they have only themselves they are not +inconsolable for the loss of everything else. This gives an isolation +to their character, which is all the more effective since other +people never really quite satisfy them, as being, on the whole, of +a different nature: nay more, since this difference is constantly +forcing itself upon their notice they get accustomed to move about +amongst mankind as alien beings, and in thinking of humanity in +general, to say _they_ instead of _we_. + +So the conclusion we come to is that the man whom nature has endowed +with intellectual wealth is the happiest; so true it is that the +subjective concerns us more than the objective; for whatever the +latter may be, it can work only indirectly, secondly, and through the +medium of the former--a truth finely expressed by Lucian:-- + + [Greek: _Aeloutos ho taes psychaes ploutus monos estin alaethaes + Talla dechei ataen pleiona ton kteanon_--][1] + +[Footnote 1: Epigrammata, 12.] + +the wealth of the soul is the only true wealth, for with all other +riches comes a bane even greater than they. The man of inner wealth +wants nothing from outside but the negative gift of undisturbed +leisure, to develop and mature his intellectual faculties, that is, +to enjoy his wealth; in short, he wants permission to be himself, +his whole life long, every day and every hour. If he is destined to +impress the character of his mind upon a whole race, he has only one +measure of happiness or unhappiness--to succeed or fail in perfecting +his powers and completing his work. All else is of small consequence. +Accordingly, the greatest minds of all ages have set the highest value +upon undisturbed leisure, as worth exactly as much as the man himself. +_Happiness appears to consist in leisure_, says Aristotle;[1] and +Diogenes Laertius reports that _Socrates praised leisure as the +fairest of all possessions_. So, in the _Nichomachean Ethics_, +Aristotle concludes that a life devoted to philosophy is the happiest; +or, as he says in the _Politics,[2] the free exercise of any power, +whatever it may be, is happiness_. This again, tallies with what +Goethe says in _Wilhelm Meister: The man who is born with a talent +which he is meant to use, finds his greatest happiness in using it_. + +[Footnote 1: Eth. Nichom. x. 7.] + +[Footnote 2: iv. 11.] + +But to be in possession of undisturbed leisure, is far from being +the common lot; nay, it is something alien to human nature, for the +ordinary man's destiny is to spend life in procuring what is necessary +for the subsistence of himself and his family; he is a son of struggle +and need, not a free intelligence. So people as a rule soon get tired +of undisturbed leisure, and it becomes burdensome if there are no +fictitious and forced aims to occupy it, play, pastime and hobbies of +every kind. For this very reason it is full of possible danger, and +_difficilis in otio quies_ is a true saying,--it is difficult to keep +quiet if you have nothing to do. On the other hand, a measure of +intellect far surpassing the ordinary, is as unnatural as it is +abnormal. But if it exists, and the man endowed with it is to be +happy, he will want precisely that undisturbed leisure which the +others find burdensome or pernicious; for without it he is a Pegasus +in harness, and consequently unhappy. If these two unnatural +circumstances, external, and internal, undisturbed leisure and great +intellect, happen to coincide in the same person, it is a great piece +of fortune; and if the fate is so far favorable, a man can lead the +higher life, the life protected from the two opposite sources of human +suffering, pain and boredom, from the painful struggle for existence, +and the incapacity for enduring leisure (which is free existence +itself)--evils which may be escaped only by being mutually +neutralized. + +But there is something to be said in opposition to this view. Great +intellectual gifts mean an activity pre-eminently nervous in its +character, and consequently a very high degree of susceptibility to +pain in every form. Further, such gifts imply an intense temperament, +larger and more vivid ideas, which, as the inseparable accompaniment +of great intellectual power, entail on its possessor a corresponding +intensity of the emotions, making them incomparably more violent than +those to which the ordinary man is a prey. Now, there are more things +in the world productive of pain than of pleasure. Again, a large +endowment of intellect tends to estrange the man who has it from other +people and their doings; for the more a man has in himself, the less +he will be able to find in them; and the hundred things in which they +take delight, he will think shallow and insipid. Here, then, perhaps, +is another instance of that law of compensation which makes itself +felt everywhere. How often one hears it said, and said, too, with some +plausibility, that the narrow-minded man is at bottom the happiest, +even though his fortune is unenviable. I shall make no attempt to +forestall the reader's own judgment on this point; more especially as +Sophocles himself has given utterance to two diametrically opposite +opinions:-- + + [Greek: Pollo to phronein eudaimonias + proton uparchei.][1] + +he says in one place--wisdom is the greatest part of happiness; +and again, in another passage, he declares that the life of the +thoughtless is the most pleasant of all-- + + [Greek: En ta phronein gar maeden aedistos bios.][2] + +The philosophers of the _Old Testament_ find themselves in a like +contradiction. + +_The life of a fool is worse than death_[3] + +and-- + +_In much wisdom is much grief; and he that increaseth knowledge +increaseth sorrow_.[4] + +[Footnote 1: Antigone, 1347-8.] + +[Footnote 2: Ajax, 554.] + +[Footnote 3: Ecclesiasticus, xxii. 11.] + +[Footnote 4: Ecclesiastes, i. 18.] + +I may remark, however, that a man who has no mental needs, because his +intellect is of the narrow and normal amount, is, in the strict sense +of the word, what is called a _philistine_--an expression at first +peculiar to the German language, a kind of slang term at the +Universities, afterwards used, by analogy, in a higher sense, though +still in its original meaning, as denoting one who is not _a Son of +the Muses_. A philistine is and remains [Greek: amousos anaer]. I +should prefer to take a higher point of view, and apply the term +_philistine_ to people who are always seriously occupied with +realities which are no realities; but as such a definition would be a +transcendental one, and therefore not generally intelligible, it +would hardly be in place in the present treatise, which aims at +being popular. The other definition can be more easily elucidated, +indicating, as it does, satisfactorily enough, the essential nature of +all those qualities which distinguish the philistine. He is defined to +be _a man without mental needs_. From this is follows, firstly, _in +relation to himself_, that he has _no intellectual pleasures_; for, as +was remarked before, there are no real pleasures without real needs. +The philistine's life is animated by no desire to gain knowledge and +insight for their own sake, or to experience that true aeesthetic +pleasure which is so nearly akin to them. If pleasures of this kind +are fashionable, and the philistine finds himself compelled to pay +attention to them, he will force himself to do so, but he will take as +little interest in them as possible. His only real pleasures are of a +sensual kind, and he thinks that these indemnify him for the loss of +the others. To him oysters and champagne are the height of existence; +the aim of his life is to procure what will contribute to his bodily +welfare, and he is indeed in a happy way if this causes him some +trouble. If the luxuries of life are heaped upon him, he will +inevitably be bored, and against boredom he has a great many fancied +remedies, balls, theatres, parties, cards, gambling, horses, women, +drinking, traveling and so on; all of which can not protect a man +from being bored, for where there are no intellectual needs, no +intellectual pleasures are possible. The peculiar characteristic +of the philistine is a dull, dry kind of gravity, akin to that of +animals. Nothing really pleases, or excites, or interests him, for +sensual pleasure is quickly exhausted, and the society of philistines +soon becomes burdensome, and one may even get tired of playing cards. +True, the pleasures of vanity are left, pleasures which he enjoys in +his own way, either by feeling himself superior in point of wealth, or +rank, or influence and power to other people, who thereupon pay +him honor; or, at any rate, by going about with those who have a +superfluity of these blessings, sunning himself in the reflection of +their splendor--what the English call a _snob_. + +From the essential nature of the philistine it follows, secondly, _in +regard to others_, that, as he possesses no intellectual, but only +physical need, he will seek the society of those who can satisfy the +latter, but not the former. The last thing he will expect from his +friends is the possession of any sort of intellectual capacity; nay, +if he chances to meet with it, it will rouse his antipathy and +even hatred; simply because in addition to an unpleasant sense of +inferiority, he experiences, in his heart, a dull kind of envy, which +has to be carefully concealed even from himself. Nevertheless, it +sometimes grows into a secret feeling of rancor. But for all that, +it will never occur to him to make his own ideas of worth or value +conform to the standard of such qualities; he will continue to give +the preference to rank and riches, power and influence, which in his +eyes seem to be the only genuine advantages in the world; and his wish +will be to excel in them himself. All this is the consequence of his +being a man _without intellectual needs_. The great affliction of all +philistines is that they have no interest in _ideas_, and that, to +escape being bored, they are in constant need of _realities_. But +realities are either unsatisfactory or dangerous; when they lose their +interest, they become fatiguing. But the ideal world is illimitable +and calm, + + _something afar + From the sphere of our sorrow_. + + +NOTE.--In these remarks on the personal qualities which go to make +happiness, I have been mainly concerned with the physical and +intellectual nature of man. For an account of the direct and immediate +influence of _morality_ upon happiness, let me refer to my prize essay +on _The Foundation of Morals_ (Sec. 22.) + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +PROPERTY, OR WHAT A MAN HAS. + + +Epicurus divides the needs of mankind into three classes, and the +division made by this great professor of happiness is a true and a +fine one. First come natural and necessary needs, such as, when not +satisfied, produce pain,--food and clothing, _victus et amictus_, +needs which can easily be satisfied. Secondly, there are those needs +which, though natural, are not necessary, such as the gratification of +certain of the senses. I may add, however, that in the report given by +Diogenes Laertius, Epicurus does not mention which of the senses he +means; so that on this point my account of his doctrine is somewhat +more definite and exact than the original. These are needs rather more +difficult to satisfy. The third class consists of needs which are +neither natural nor necessary, the need of luxury and prodigality, +show and splendor, which never come to an end, and are very hard to +satisfy.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Cf. Diogenes Laertius, Bk. x., ch. xxvii., pp. 127 and +149; also Cicero _de finibus_, i., 13.] + +It is difficult, if not impossible, to define the limits which reason +should impose on the desire for wealth; for there is no absolute or +definite amount of wealth which will satisfy a man. The amount is +always relative, that is to say, just so much as will maintain the +proportion between what he wants and what he gets; for to measure a +man's happiness only by what he gets, and not also by what he expects +to get, is as futile as to try and express a fraction which shall have +a numerator but no denominator. A man never feels the loss of things +which it never occurs to him to ask for; he is just as happy without +them; whilst another, who may have a hundred times as much, feels +miserable because he has not got the one thing he wants. In fact, here +too, every man has an horizon of his own, and he will expect as much +as he thinks it is possible for him to get. If an object within his +horizon looks as though he could confidently reckon on getting it, he +is happy; but if difficulties come in the way, he is miserable. What +lies beyond his horizon has no effect at all upon him. So it is +that the vast possessions of the rich do not agitate the poor, and +conversely, that a wealthy man is not consoled by all his wealth for +the failure of his hopes. Riches, one may say, are like sea-water; the +more you drink the thirstier you become; and the same is true of fame. +The loss of wealth and prosperity leaves a man, as soon as the first +pangs of grief are over, in very much the same habitual temper as +before; and the reason of this is, that as soon as fate diminishes the +amount of his possessions, he himself immediately reduces the amount +of his claims. But when misfortune comes upon us, to reduce the amount +of our claims is just what is most painful; once that we have done so, +the pain becomes less and less, and is felt no more; like an old wound +which has healed. Conversely, when a piece of good fortune befalls us, +our claims mount higher and higher, as there is nothing to regulate +them; it is in this feeling of expansion that the delight of it lies. +But it lasts no longer than the process itself, and when the expansion +is complete, the delight ceases; we have become accustomed to the +increase in our claims, and consequently indifferent to the amount of +wealth which satisfies them. There is a passage in the _Odyssey_[1] +illustrating this truth, of which I may quote the last two lines: + + [Greek: Toios gar noos estin epichthonion anthropon + Oion eth aemar agei pataer andron te theou te] + +--the thoughts of man that dwells on the earth are as the day granted +him by the father of gods and men. Discontent springs from a constant +endeavor to increase the amount of our claims, when we are powerless +to increase the amount which will satisfy them. + +[Footnote 1: xviii., 130-7.] + +When we consider how full of needs the human race is, how its whole +existence is based upon them, it is not a matter for surprise that +_wealth_ is held in more sincere esteem, nay, in greater honor, than +anything else in the world; nor ought we to wonder that gain is made +the only good of life, and everything that does not lead to it pushed +aside or thrown overboard--philosophy, for instance, by those who +profess it. People are often reproached for wishing for money above +all things, and for loving it more than anything else; but it is +natural and even inevitable for people to love that which, like an +unwearied Proteus, is always ready to turn itself into whatever object +their wandering wishes or manifold desires may for the moment fix +upon. Everything else can satisfy only _one_ wish, _one_ need: food is +good only if you are hungry; wine, if you are able to enjoy it; drugs, +if you are sick; fur for the winter; love for youth, and so on. These +are all only relatively good, [Greek: agatha pros ti]. Money alone is +absolutely good, because it is not only a concrete satisfaction of one +need in particular; it is an abstract satisfaction of all. + +If a man has an independent fortune, he should regard it as a bulwark +against the many evils and misfortunes which he may encounter; he +should not look upon it as giving him leave to get what pleasure he +can out of the world, or as rendering it incumbent upon him to spend +it in this way. People who are not born with a fortune, but end by +making a large one through the exercise of whatever talents they +possess, almost always come to think that their talents are their +capital, and that the money they have gained is merely the interest +upon it; they do not lay by a part of their earnings to form a +permanent capital, but spend their money much as they have earned it. +Accordingly, they often fall into poverty; their earnings decreased, +or come to an end altogether, either because their talent is exhausted +by becoming antiquated,--as, for instance, very often happens in +the case of fine art; or else it was valid only under a special +conjunction of circumstances which has now passed away. There is +nothing to prevent those who live on the common labor of their hands +from treating their earnings in that way if they like; because their +kind of skill is not likely to disappear, or, if it does, it can be +replaced by that of their fellow-workmen; morever, the kind of work +they do is always in demand; so that what the proverb says is quite +true, _a useful trade is a mine of gold_. But with artists and +professionals of every kind the case is quite different, and that is +the reason why they are well paid. They ought to build up a capital +out of their earnings; but they recklessly look upon them as merely +interest, and end in ruin. On the other hand, people who inherit money +know, at least, how to distinguish between capital and interest, and +most of them try to make their capital secure and not encroach +upon it; nay, if they can, they put by at least an eighth of their +interests in order to meet future contingencies. So most of them +maintain their position. These few remarks about capital and interest +are not applicable to commercial life, for merchants look upon money +only as a means of further gain, just as a workman regards his tools; +so even if their capital has been entirely the result of their +own efforts, they try to preserve and increase it by using it. +Accordingly, wealth is nowhere so much at home as in the merchant +class. + +It will generally be found that those who know what it is to have +been in need and destitution are very much less afraid of it, and +consequently more inclined to extravagance, than those who know +poverty only by hearsay. People who have been born and bred in good +circumstances are as a rule much more careful about the future, more +economical, in fact, than those who, by a piece of good luck, have +suddenly passed from poverty to wealth. This looks as if poverty were +not really such a very wretched thing as it appears from a distance. +The true reason, however, is rather the fact that the man who has been +born into a position of wealth comes to look upon it as something +without which he could no more live than he could live without air; he +guards it as he does his very life; and so he is generally a lover of +order, prudent and economical. But the man who has been born into a +poor position looks upon it as the natural one, and if by any chance +he comes in for a fortune, he regards it as a superfluity, something +to be enjoyed or wasted, because, if it comes to an end, he can get on +just as well as before, with one anxiety the less; or, as Shakespeare +says in Henry VI.,[1] + + .... _the adage must be verified + That beggars mounted run their horse to death_. + +[Footnote 1: Part III., Act 1., Sc. 4.] + +But it should be said that people of this kind have a firm and +excessive trust, partly in fate, partly in the peculiar means which +have already raised them out of need and poverty,--a trust not only of +the head, but of the heart also; and so they do not, like the man born +rich, look upon the shallows of poverty as bottomless, but console +themselves with the thought that once they have touched ground again, +they can take another upward flight. It is this trait in human +character which explains the fact that women who were poor before +their marriage often make greater claims, and are more extravagant, +than those who have brought their husbands a rich dowry; because, as +a rule, rich girls bring with them, not only a fortune, but also more +eagerness, nay, more of the inherited instinct, to preserve it, than +poor girls do. If anyone doubts the truth of this, and thinks that it +is just the opposite, he will find authority for his view in Ariosto's +first Satire; but, on the other hand, Dr. Johnson agrees with my +opinion. _A woman of fortune_, he says, _being used to the handling +of money, spends it judiciously; but a woman who gets the command +of money for the first time upon her marriage, has such a gusto in +spending it, that she throws it away with great profusion_.[1] And in +any case let me advise anyone who marries a poor girl not to leave her +the capital but only the interest, and to take especial care that she +has not the management of the children's fortune. + +[Footnote 1: Boswell's Life of Johnson: ann: 1776, aetat: 67.] + +I do not by any means think that I am touching upon a subject which is +not worth my while to mention when I recommend people to be careful to +preserve what they have earned or inherited. For to start life with +just as much as will make one independent, that is, allow one to live +comfortably without having to work--even if one has only just enough +for oneself, not to speak of a family--is an advantage which cannot be +over-estimated; for it means exemption and immunity from that chronic +disease of penury, which fastens on the life of man like a plague; it +is emancipation from that forced labor which is the natural lot of +every mortal. Only under a favorable fate like this can a man be said +to be born free, to be, in the proper sense of the word, _sui juris_, +master of his own time and powers, and able to say every morning, +_This day is my own_. And just for the same reason the difference +between the man who has a hundred a year and the man who has a +thousand, is infinitely smaller than the difference between the former +and a man who has nothing at all. But inherited wealth reaches its +utmost value when it falls to the individual endowed with mental +powers of a high order, who is resolved to pursue a line of life not +compatible with the making of money; for he is then doubly endowed by +fate and can live for his genius; and he will pay his debt to mankind +a hundred times, by achieving what no other could achieve, by +producing some work which contributes to the general good, and +redounds to the honor of humanity at large. Another, again, may +use his wealth to further philanthropic schemes, and make himself +well-deserving of his fellowmen. But a man who does none of these +things, who does not even try to do them, who never attempts to learn +the rudiments of any branch of knowledge so that he may at least do +what he can towards promoting it--such a one, born as he is into +riches, is a mere idler and thief of time, a contemptible fellow. He +will not even be happy, because, in his case, exemption from need +delivers him up to the other extreme of human suffering, boredom, +which is such martyrdom to him, that he would have been better off if +poverty had given him something to do. And as he is bored he is apt to +be extravagant, and so lose the advantage of which he showed himself +unworthy. Countless numbers of people find themselves in want, simply +because, when they had money, they spent it only to get momentary +relief from the feeling of boredom which oppressed them. + +It is quite another matter if one's object is success in political +life, where favor, friends and connections are all-important, in order +to mount by their aid step by step on the ladder of promotion, and +perhaps gain the topmost rung. In this kind of life, it is much better +to be cast upon the world without a penny; and if the aspirant is not +of noble family, but is a man of some talent, it will redound to his +advantage to be an absolute pauper. For what every one most aims at +in ordinary contact with his fellows is to prove them inferior to +himself; and how much more is this the case in politics. Now, it is +only an absolute pauper who has such a thorough conviction of his own +complete, profound and positive inferiority from every point of view, +of his own utter insignificance and worthlessness, that he can take +his place quietly in the political machine.[1] He is the only one who +can keep on bowing low enough, and even go right down upon his face if +necessary; he alone can submit to everything and laugh at it; he alone +knows the entire worthlessness of merit; he alone uses his loudest +voice and his boldest type whenever he has to speak or write of those +who are placed over his head, or occupy any position of influence; +and if they do a little scribbling, he is ready to applaud it as a +masterwork. He alone understands how to beg, and so betimes, when he +is hardly out of his boyhood, he becomes a high priest of that hidden +mystery which Goethe brings to light. + + _Uber's Niedertraechtige + Niemand sich beklage: + Denn es ist das Machtige + Was man dir auch sage_: + +--it is no use to complain of low aims; for, whatever people may say, +they rule the world. + +[Footnote 1: _Translator's Note_.--Schopenhauer is probably here +making one of his most virulent attacks upon Hegel; in this case on +account of what he thought to be the philosopher's abject servility +to the government of his day. Though the Hegelian system has been the +fruitful mother of many liberal ideas, there can be no doubt that +Hegel's influence, in his own lifetime, was an effective support of +Prussian bureaucracy.] + +On the other hand, the man who is born with enough to live upon is +generally of a somewhat independent turn of mind; he is accustomed +to keep his head up; he has not learned all the arts of the beggar; +perhaps he even presumes a little upon the possession of talents +which, as he ought to know, can never compete with cringing +mediocrity; in the long run he comes to recognize the inferiority of +those who are placed over his head, and when they try to put insults +upon him, he becomes refractory and shy. This is not the way to get +on in the world. Nay, such a man may at least incline to the opinion +freely expressed by Voltaire: _We have only two days to live; it +is not worth our while to spend them_ in cringing to contemptible +rascals. But alas! let me observe by the way, that _contemptible +rascal_ is an attribute which may be predicated of an abominable +number of people. What Juvenal says--it is difficult to rise if your +poverty is greater than your talent-- + + _Haud facile emergunt quorum virtutibus obstat + Res angusta domi_-- + +is more applicable to a career of art and literature than to a +political and social ambition. + +Wife and children I have not reckoned amongst a man's possessions: he +is rather in their possession. It would be easier to include friends +under that head; but a man's friends belong to him not a whit more +than he belongs to them. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +POSITION, OR A MAN'S PLACE IN THE ESTIMATION OF OTHERS. + + +_Section 1.--Reputation_. + + +By a peculiar weakness of human nature, people generally think too +much about the opinion which others form of them; although the +slightest reflection will show that this opinion, whatever it may +be, is not in itself essential to happiness. Therefore it is hard to +understand why everybody feels so very pleased when he sees that other +people have a good opinion of him, or say anything flattering to his +vanity. If you stroke a cat, it will purr; and, as inevitably, if you +praise a man, a sweet expression of delight will appear on his face; +and even though the praise is a palpable lie, it will be welcome, if +the matter is one on which he prides himself. If only other people +will applaud him, a man may console himself for downright misfortune +or for the pittance he gets from the two sources of human happiness +already discussed: and conversely, it is astonishing how infallibly +a man will be annoyed, and in some cases deeply pained, by any wrong +done to his feeling of self-importance, whatever be the nature, +degree, or circumstances of the injury, or by any depreciation, +slight, or disregard. + +If the feeling of honor rests upon this peculiarity of human nature, +it may have a very salutary effect upon the welfare of a great many +people, as a substitute for morality; but upon their happiness, more +especially upon that peace of mind and independence which are so +essential to happiness, its effect will be disturbing and prejudicial +rather than salutary. Therefore it is advisable, from our point of +view, to set limits to this weakness, and duly to consider and rightly +to estimate the relative value of advantages, and thus temper, as far +as possible, this great susceptibility to other people's opinion, +whether the opinion be one flattering to our vanity, or whether it +causes us pain; for in either case it is the same feeling which is +touched. Otherwise, a man is the slave of what other people are +pleased to think,--and how little it requires to disconcert or soothe +the mind that is greedy of praise: + + _Sic leve, sic parvum est, animum quod laudis avarum + Subruit ac reficit_.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Horace, Epist: II., 1, 180.] + +Therefore it will very much conduce to our happiness if we duly +compare the value of what a man is in and for himself with what he is +in the eyes of others. Under the former conies everything that fills +up the span of our existence and makes it what it is, in short, all +the advantages already considered and summed up under the heads of +personality and property; and the sphere in which all this takes place +is the man's own consciousness. On the other hand, the sphere of what +we are for other people is their consciousness, not ours; it is the +kind of figure we make in their eyes, together with the thoughts +which this arouses.[1] But this is something which has no direct and +immediate existence for us, but can affect us only mediately and +indirectly, so far, that is, as other people's behavior towards us is +directed by it; and even then it ought to affect us only in so far as +it can move us to modify _what we are in and for ourselves_. Apart +from this, what goes on in other people's consciousness is, as such, a +matter of indifference to us; and in time we get really indifferent to +it, when we come to see how superficial and futile are most people's +thoughts, how narrow their ideas, how mean their sentiments, how +perverse their opinions, and how much of error there is in most of +them; when we learn by experience with what depreciation a man will +speak of his fellow, when he is not obliged to fear him, or thinks +that what he says will not come to his ears. And if ever we have +had an opportunity of seeing how the greatest of men will meet with +nothing but slight from half-a-dozen blockheads, we shall understand +that to lay great value upon what other people say is to pay them too +much honor. + +[Footnote 1: Let me remark that people in the highest positions in +life, with all their brilliance, pomp, display, magnificence and +general show, may well say:--Our happiness lies entirely outside us; +for it exists only in the heads of others.] + +At all events, a man is in a very bad way, who finds no source of +happiness in the first two classes of blessings already treated of, +but has to seek it in the third, in other words, not in what he is in +himself, but in what he is in the opinion of others. For, after all, +the foundation of our whole nature, and, therefore, of our happiness, +is our physique, and the most essential factor in happiness is +health, and, next in importance after health, the ability to maintain +ourselves in independence and freedom from care. There can be no +competition or compensation between these essential factors on the one +side, and honor, pomp, rank and reputation on the other, however much +value we may set upon the latter. No one would hesitate to sacrifice +the latter for the former, if it were necessary. We should add very +much to our happiness by a timely recognition of the simple truth that +every man's chief and real existence is in his own skin, and not in +other people's opinions; and, consequently, that the actual conditions +of our personal life,--health, temperament, capacity, income, wife, +children, friends, home, are a hundred times more important for our +happiness than what other people are pleased to think of us: otherwise +we shall be miserable. And if people insist that honor is dearer than +life itself, what they really mean is that existence and well-being +are as nothing compared with other people's opinions. Of course, this +may be only an exaggerated way of stating the prosaic truth that +reputation, that is, the opinion others have of us, is indispensable +if we are to make any progress in the world; but I shall come back to +that presently. When we see that almost everything men devote their +lives to attain, sparing no effort and encountering a thousand toils +and dangers in the process, has, in the end, no further object than +to raise themselves in the estimation of others; when we see that +not only offices, titles, decorations, but also wealth, nay, even +knowledge[1] and art, are striven for only to obtain, as the ultimate +goal of all effort, greater respect from one's fellowmen,--is not this +a lamentable proof of the extent to which human folly can go? To set +much too high a value on other people's opinion is a common error +everywhere; an error, it may be, rooted in human nature itself, or +the result of civilization, and social arrangements generally; but, +whatever its source, it exercises a very immoderate influence on all +we do, and is very prejudicial to our happiness. We can trace it from +a timorous and slavish regard for what other people will say, up to +the feeling which made Virginius plunge the dagger into his daughter's +heart, or induces many a man to sacrifice quiet, riches, health and +even life itself, for posthumous glory. Undoubtedly this feeling is a +very convenient instrument in the hands of those who have the control +or direction of their fellowmen; and accordingly we find that in +every scheme for training up humanity in the way it should go, the +maintenance and strengthening of the feeling of honor occupies an +important place. But it is quite a different matter in its effect +on human happiness, of which it is here our object to treat; and we +should rather be careful to dissuade people from setting too much +store by what others think of them. Daily experience shows us, +however, that this is just the mistake people persist in making; most +men set the utmost value precisely on what other people think, and +are more concerned about it than about what goes on in their own +consciousness, which is the thing most immediately and directly +present to them. They reverse the natural order,--regarding the +opinions of others as real existence and their own consciousness +as something shadowy; making the derivative and secondary into the +principal, and considering the picture they present to the world of +more importance than their own selves. By thus trying to get a direct +and immediate result out of what has no really direct or immediate +existence, they fall into the kind of folly which is called +_vanity_--the appropriate term for that which has no solid or +instrinsic value. Like a miser, such people forget the end in their +eagerness to obtain the means. + +[Footnote 1: _Scire tuum nihil est nisi te scire hoc sciat alter_, +(Persins i, 27)--knowledge is no use unless others know that you have +it.] + +The truth is that the value we set upon the opinion of others, and our +constant endeavor in respect of it, are each quite out of proportion +to any result we may reasonably hope to attain; so that this attention +to other people's attitude may be regarded as a kind of universal +mania which every one inherits. In all we do, almost the first thing +we think about is, what will people say; and nearly half the troubles +and bothers of life may be traced to our anxiety on this score; it +is the anxiety which is at the bottom of all that feeling of +self-importance, which is so often mortified because it is so very +morbidly sensitive. It is solicitude about what others will say that +underlies all our vanity and pretension, yes, and all our show and +swagger too. Without it, there would not be a tenth part of the luxury +which exists. Pride in every form, _point d'honneur_ and _punctilio_, +however varied their kind or sphere, are at bottom nothing but +this--anxiety about what others will say--and what sacrifices it +costs! One can see it even in a child; and though it exists at every +period of life, it is strongest in age; because, when the capacity for +sensual pleasure fails, vanity and pride have only avarice to share +their dominion. Frenchmen, perhaps, afford the best example of +this feeling, and amongst them it is a regular epidemic, appearing +sometimes in the most absurd ambition, or in a ridiculous kind of +national vanity and the most shameless boasting. However, they +frustrate their own gains, for other people make fun of them and call +them _la grande nation_. + +By way of specially illustrating this perverse and exuberant respect +for other people's opinion, let me take passage from the _Times_ of +March 31st, 1846, giving a detailed account of the execution of one +Thomas Wix, an apprentice who, from motives of vengeance, had +murdered his master. Here we have very unusual circumstances and an +extraordinary character, though one very suitable for our purpose; and +these combine to give a striking picture of this folly, which is so +deeply rooted in human nature, and allow us to form an accurate notion +of the extent to which it will go. On the morning of the execution, +says the report, _the rev. ordinary was early in attendance upon +him, but Wix, beyond a quiet demeanor, betrayed no interest in his +ministrations, appearing to feel anxious only to acquit himself +"bravely" before the spectators of his ignomininous end.... In the +procession Wix fell into his proper place with alacrity, and, as he +entered the Chapel-yard, remarked, sufficiently loud to be heard by +several persons near him, "Now, then, as Dr. Dodd said, I shall soon +know the grand secret." On reaching the scaffold, the miserable wretch +mounted the drop without the slightest assistance, and when he got +to the centre, he bowed to the spectators twice, a proceeding which +called forth a tremendous cheer from the degraded crowd beneath_. + +This is an admirable example of the way in which a man, with death in +the most dreadful form before his very eyes, and eternity beyond it, +will care for nothing but the impression he makes upon a crowd of +gapers, and the opinion he leaves behind him in their heads. There was +much the same kind of thing in the case of Lecompte, who was executed +at Frankfurt, also in 1846, for an attempt on the king's life. At the +trial he was very much annoyed that he was not allowed to appear, in +decent attire, before the Upper House; and on the day of the execution +it was a special grief to him that he was not permitted to shave. It +is not only in recent times that this kind of thing has been known to +happen. Mateo Aleman tells us, in the Introduction to his celebrated +romance, _Juzman de Alfarache_, that many infatuated criminals, +instead of devoting their last hours to the welfare of their souls, +as they ought to have done, neglect this duty for the purpose of +preparing and committing to memory a speech to be made from the +scaffold. + +I take these extreme cases as being the best illustrations to what I +mean; for they give us a magnified reflection of our own nature. The +anxieties of all of us, our worries, vexations, bothers, troubles, +uneasy apprehensions and strenuous efforts are due, in perhaps the +large majority of instances, to what other people will say; and we are +just as foolish in this respect as those miserable criminals. Envy and +hatred are very often traceable to a similar source. + +Now, it is obvious that happiness, which consists for the most part in +peace of mind and contentment, would be served by nothing so much +as by reducing this impulse of human nature within reasonable +limits,--which would perhaps make it one fiftieth part of what it is +now. By doing so, we should get rid of a thorn in the flesh which is +always causing us pain. But it is a very difficult task, because +the impulse in question is a natural and innate perversity of human +nature. Tacitus says, _The lust of fame is the last that a wise man +shakes off_[1] The only way of putting an end to this universal +folly is to see clearly that it is a folly; and this may be done by +recognizing the fact that most of the opinions in men's heads are apt +to be false, perverse, erroneous and absurd, and so in themselves +unworthy of attention; further, that other people's opinions can +have very little real and positive influence upon us in most of the +circumstances and affairs of life. Again, this opinion is generally of +such an unfavorable character that it would worry a man to death to +hear everything that was said of him, or the tone in which he was +spoken of. And finally, among other things, we should be clear about +the fact that honor itself has no really direct, but only an indirect, +value. If people were generally converted from this universal folly, +the result would be such an addition to our piece of mind and +cheerfulness as at present seems inconceivable; people would present +a firmer and more confident front to the world, and generally behave +with less embarrassment and restraint. It is observable that a retired +mode of life has an exceedingly beneficial influence on our peace +of mind, and this is mainly because we thus escape having to live +constantly in the sight of others, and pay everlasting regard to their +casual opinions; in a word, we are able to return upon ourselves. At +the same time a good deal of positive misfortune might be avoided, +which we are now drawn into by striving after shadows, or, to speak +more correctly, by indulging a mischievous piece of folly; and we +should consequently have more attention to give to solid realities and +enjoy them with less interruption that at present. But [Greek: chalepa +ga kala]--what is worth doing is hard to do. + +[Footnote 1: Hist., iv., 6.] + + +_Section 2.--Pride_. + + +The folly of our nature which we are discussing puts forth three +shoots, ambition, vanity and pride. The difference between the last +two is this: _pride_ is an established conviction of one's own +paramount worth in some particular respect; while _vanity_ is the +desire of rousing such a conviction in others, and it is generally +accompanied by the secret hope of ultimately coming to the same +conviction oneself. Pride works _from within_; it is the direct +appreciation of oneself. Vanity is the desire to arrive at this +appreciation indirectly, _from without_. So we find that vain people +are talkative, proud, and taciturn. But the vain person ought to be +aware that the good opinion of others, which he strives for, may be +obtained much more easily and certainly by persistent silence than by +speech, even though he has very good things to say. Anyone who wishes +to affect pride is not therefore a proud man; but he will soon have to +drop this, as every other, assumed character. + +It is only a firm, unshakeable conviction of pre-eminent worth and +special value which makes a man proud in the true sense of the +word,--a conviction which may, no doubt, be a mistaken one or rest on +advantages which are of an adventitious and conventional character: +still pride is not the less pride for all that, so long as it be +present in real earnest. And since pride is thus rooted in conviction, +it resembles every other form of knowledge in not being within our own +arbitrament. Pride's worst foe,--I mean its greatest obstacle,--is +vanity, which courts the applause of the world in order to gain the +necessary foundation for a high opinion of one's own worth, whilst +pride is based upon a pre-existing conviction of it. + +It is quite true that pride is something which is generally found +fault with, and cried down; but usually, I imagine, by those who have +nothing upon which they can pride themselves. In view of the impudence +and foolhardiness of most people, anyone who possesses any kind of +superiority or merit will do well to keep his eyes fixed on it, if +he does not want it to be entirely forgotten; for if a man is +good-natured enough to ignore his own privileges, and hob-nob with the +generality of other people, as if he were quite on their level, they +will be sure to treat him, frankly and candidly, as one of themselves. +This is a piece of advice I would specially offer to those whose +superiority is of the highest kind--real superiority, I mean, of a +purely personal nature--which cannot, like orders and titles, appeal +to the eye or ear at every moment; as, otherwise, they will find that +familiarity breeds contempt, or, as the Romans used to say, _sus +Minervam. Joke with a slave, and he'll soon show his heels_, is an +excellent Arabian proverb; nor ought we to despise what Horace says, + + _Sume superbiam + Quaesitam meritis_. + +--usurp the fame you have deserved. No doubt, when modesty was made a +virtue, it was a very advantageous thing for the fools; for everybody +is expected to speak of himself as if he were one. This is leveling +down indeed; for it comes to look as if there were nothing but fools +in the world. + +The cheapest sort of pride is national pride; for if a man is proud of +his own nation, it argues that he has no qualities of his own of which +he can be proud; otherwise he would not have recourse to those which +he shares with so many millions of his fellowmen. The man who is +endowed with important personal qualities will be only too ready to +see clearly in what respects his own nation falls short, since their +failings will be constantly before his eyes. But every miserable fool +who has nothing at all of which he can be proud adopts, as a last +resource, pride in the nation to which he belongs; he is ready and +glad to defend all its faults and follies tooth and nail, thus +reimbursing himself for his own inferiority. For example, if you speak +of the stupid and degrading bigotry of the English nation with the +contempt it deserves, you will hardly find one Englishman in fifty to +agree with you; but if there should be one, he will generally happen +to be an intelligent man. + +The Germans have no national pride, which shows how honest they are, +as everybody knows! and how dishonest are those who, by a piece +of ridiculous affectation, pretend that they are proud of their +country--the _Deutsche Bruder_ and the demagogues who flatter the +mob in order to mislead it. I have heard it said that gunpowder was +invented by a German. I doubt it. Lichtenberg asks, _Why is it that a +man who is not a German does not care about pretending that he is one; +and that if he makes any pretence at all, it is to be a Frenchman or +an Englishman_?[1] + +[Footnote 1: _Translator's Note_.--It should be remembered that these +remarks were written in the earlier part of the present century, and +that a German philosopher now-a-days, even though he were as apt to +say bitter things as Schopenhauer, could hardly write in a similar +strain.] + +However that may be, individuality is a far more important thing +than nationality, and in any given man deserves a thousand-fold more +consideration. And since you cannot speak of national character +without referring to large masses of people, it is impossible to be +loud in your praises and at the same time honest. National character +is only another name for the particular form which the littleness, +perversity and baseness of mankind take in every country. If we become +disgusted with one, we praise another, until we get disgusted with +this too. Every nation mocks at other nations, and all are right. + +The contents of this chapter, which treats, as I have said, of what we +represent in the world, or what we are in the eyes of others, may be +further distributed under three heads: honor rank and fame. + + +_Section 3.--Rank_. + + +Let us take rank first, as it may be dismissed in a few words, +although it plays an important part in the eyes of the masses and of +the philistines, and is a most useful wheel in the machinery of the +State. + +It has a purely conventional value. Strictly speaking, it is a sham; +its method is to exact an artificial respect, and, as a matter of +fact, the whole thing is a mere farce. + +Orders, it may be said, are bills of exchange drawn on public opinion, +and the measure of their value is the credit of the drawer. Of course, +as a substitute for pensions, they save the State a good deal of +money; and, besides, they serve a very useful purpose, if they are +distributed with discrimination and judgment. For people in general +have eyes and ears, it is true; but not much else, very little +judgment indeed, or even memory. There are many services of the State +quite beyond the range of their understanding; others, again, are +appreciated and made much of for a time, and then soon forgotten. It +seems to me, therefore, very proper, that a cross or a star should +proclaim to the mass of people always and everywhere, _This man is not +like you; he has done something_. But orders lose their value when +they are distributed unjustly, or without due selection, or in too +great numbers: a prince should be as careful in conferring them as a +man of business is in signing a bill. It is a pleonasm to inscribe on +any order _for distinguished service_; for every order ought to be for +distinguished service. That stands to reason. + + +_Section 4.--Honor_. + + +Honor is a much larger question than rank, and more difficult to +discuss. Let us begin by trying to define it. + +If I were to say _Honor is external conscience, and conscience is +inward honor_, no doubt a good many people would assent; but there +would be more show than reality about such a definition, and it would +hardly go to the root of the matter. I prefer to say, _Honor is, on +its objective side, other people's opinion of what we are worth; on +its subjective side, it is the respect we pay to this opinion_. From +the latter point of view, to be _a man of honor_ is to exercise what +is often a very wholesome, but by no means a purely moral, influence. + +The feelings of honor and shame exist in every man who is not utterly +depraved, and honor is everywhere recognized as something particularly +valuable. The reason of this is as follows. By and in himself a man +can accomplish very little; he is like Robinson Crusoe on a desert +island. It is only in society that a man's powers can be called into +full activity. He very soon finds this out when his consciousness +begins to develop, and there arises in him the desire to be looked +upon as a useful member of society, as one, that is, who is capable +of playing his part as a man--_pro parte virili_--thereby acquiring a +right to the benefits of social life. Now, to be a useful member of +society, one must do two things: firstly, what everyone is expected to +do everywhere; and, secondly, what one's own particular position in +the world demands and requires. + +But a man soon discovers that everything depends upon his being +useful, not in his own opinion, but in the opinion of others; and so +he tries his best to make that favorable impression upon the world, to +which he attaches such a high value. Hence, this primitive and innate +characteristic of human nature, which is called the feeling of honor, +or, under another aspect, the feeling of shame--_verecundia_. It is +this which brings a blush to his cheeks at the thought of having +suddenly to fall in the estimation of others, even when he knows that +he is innocent, nay, even if his remissness extends to no absolute +obligation, but only to one which he has taken upon himself of his own +free will. Conversely, nothing in life gives a man so much courage as +the attainment or renewal of the conviction that other people regard +him with favor; because it means that everyone joins to give him help +and protection, which is an infinitely stronger bulwark against the +ills of life than anything he can do himself. + +The variety of relations in which a man can stand to other people so +as to obtain their confidence, that is, their good opinion, gives rise +to a distinction between several kinds of honor, resting chiefly on +the different bearings that _meum_ may take to _tuum_; or, again, on +the performance of various pledges; or finally, on the relation of the +sexes. Hence, there are three main kinds of honor, each of which takes +various forms--civic honor, official honor, and sexual honor. + +_Civic honor_ has the widest sphere of all. It consists in the +assumption that we shall pay unconditional respect to the rights of +others, and, therefore, never use any unjust or unlawful means of +getting what we want. It is the condition of all peaceable intercourse +between man and man; and it is destroyed by anything that openly and +manifestly militates against this peaceable intercourse, anything, +accordingly, which entails punishment at the hands of the law, always +supposing that the punishment is a just one. + +The ultimate foundation of honor is the conviction that moral +character is unalterable: a single bad action implies that future +actions of the same kind will, under similar circumstances, also be +bad. This is well expressed by the English use of the word _character_ +as meaning credit, reputation, honor. Hence honor, once lost, can +never be recovered; unless the loss rested on some mistake, such as +may occur if a man is slandered or his actions viewed in a false +light. So the law provides remedies against slander, libel, and even +insult; for insult though it amounts to no more than mere abuse, is a +kind of summary slander with a suppression of the reasons. What I +mean may be well put in the Greek phrase--not quoted from any +author--[Greek: estin hae loidoria diabolae]. It is true that if a +man abuses another, he is simply showing that he has no real or true +causes of complaint against him; as, otherwise, he would bring these +forward as the premises, and rely upon his hearers to draw the +conclusion themselves: instead of which, he gives the conclusion and +leaves out the premises, trusting that people will suppose that he has +done so only for the sake of being brief. + +Civic honor draws its existence and name from the middle classes; +but it applies equally to all, not excepting the highest. No man can +disregard it, and it is a very serious thing, of which every one +should be careful not to make light. The man who breaks confidence has +for ever forfeited confidence, whatever he may do, and whoever he may +be; and the bitter consequences of the loss of confidence can never be +averted. + +There is a sense in which honor may be said to have a _negative_ +character in opposition to the _positive_ character of fame. For honor +is not the opinion people have of particular qualities which a man may +happen to possess exclusively: it is rather the opinion they have of +the qualities which a man may be expected to exhibit, and to which +he should not prove false. Honor, therefore, means that a man is not +exceptional; fame, that he is. Fame is something which must be won; +honor, only something which must not be lost. The absence of fame is +obscurity, which is only a negative; but loss of honor is shame, which +is a positive quality. This negative character of honor must not be +confused with anything _passive_; for honor is above all things active +in its working. It is the only quality which proceeds _directly_ from +the man who exhibits it; it is concerned entirely with what he does +and leaves undone, and has nothing to do with the actions of others or +the obstacles they place in his way. It is something entirely in our +own power--[Greek: ton ephaemon]. This distinction, as we shall see +presently, marks off true honor from the sham honor of chivalry. + +Slander is the only weapon by which honor can be attacked from +without; and the only way to repel the attack is to confute the +slander with the proper amount of publicity, and a due unmasking of +him who utters it. + +The reason why respect is paid to age is that old people have +necessarily shown in the course of their lives whether or not they +have been able to maintain their honor unblemished; while that of +young people has not been put to the proof, though they are credited +with the possession of it. For neither length of years,--equalled, +as it is, and even excelled, in the case of the lower animals,--nor, +again, experience, which is only a closer knowledge of the world's +ways, can be any sufficient reason for the respect which the young are +everywhere required to show towards the old: for if it were merely a +matter of years, the weakness which attends on age would call rather +for consideration than for respect. It is, however, a remarkable fact +that white hair always commands reverence--a reverence really innate +and instinctive. Wrinkles--a much surer sign of old age--command +no reverence at all; you never hear any one speak of _venerable +wrinkles_; but _venerable white hair_ is a common expression. + +Honor has only an indirect value. For, as I explained at the beginning +of this chapter, what other people think of us, if it affects us at +all, can affect us only in so far as it governs their behavior towards +us, and only just so long as we live with, or have to do with, them. +But it is to society alone that we owe that safety which we and our +possessions enjoy in a state of civilization; in all we do we need the +help of others, and they, in their turn, must have confidence in +us before they can have anything to do with us. Accordingly, their +opinion of us is, indirectly, a matter of great importance; though I +cannot see how it can have a direct or immediate value. This is an +opinion also held by Cicero. I _quite agree_, he writes, _with what +Chrysippus and Diogenes used to say, that a good reputation is not +worth raising a finger to obtain, if it were not that it is so +useful_.[1] This truth has been insisted upon at great length by +Helvetius in his chief work _De l'Esprit_,[2] the conclusion of which +is that _we love esteem not for its own sake, but solely for the +advantages which it brings_. And as the means can never be more than +the end, that saying, of which so much is made, _Honor is dearer than +life itself_, is, as I have remarked, a very exaggerated statement. So +much then, for civic honor. + +[Footnote 1: _De finilus_ iii., 17.] + +[Footnote 2: _Disc_: iii. 17.] + +_Official honor_ is the general opinion of other people that a man who +fills any office really has the necessary qualities for the proper +discharge of all the duties which appertain to it. The greater and +more important the duties a man has to discharge in the State, and the +higher and more influential the office which he fills, the stronger +must be the opinion which people have of the moral and intellectual +qualities which render him fit for his post. Therefore, the higher +his position, the greater must be the degree of honor paid to him, +expressed, as it is, in titles, orders and the generally subservient +behavior of others towards him. As a rule, a man's official rank +implies the particular degree of honor which ought to be paid to him, +however much this degree may be modified by the capacity of the masses +to form any notion of its importance. Still, as a matter of fact, +greater honor is paid to a man who fulfills special duties than to +the common citizen, whose honor mainly consists in keeping clear of +dishonor. + +Official honor demands, further, that the man who occupies an office +must maintain respect for it, for the sake both of his colleagues +and of those who will come after him. This respect an official can +maintain by a proper observance of his duties, and by repelling any +attack that may be made upon the office itself or upon its occupant: +he must not, for instance, pass over unheeded any statement to the +effect that the duties of the office are not properly discharged, or +that the office itself does not conduce to the public welfare. He must +prove the unwarrantable nature of such attacks by enforcing the legal +penalty for them. + +Subordinate to the honor of official personages comes that of those +who serve the State in any other capacity, as doctors, lawyers, +teachers, anyone, in short, who, by graduating in any subject, or by +any other public declaration that he is qualified to exercise some +special skill, claims to practice it; in a word, the honor of all +those who take any public pledges whatever. Under this head comes +military honor, in the true sense of the word, the opinion that people +who have bound themselves to defend their country really possess +the requisite qualities which will enable them to do so, especially +courage, personal bravery and strength, and that they are perfectly +ready to defend their country to the death, and never and under +any circumstances desert the flag to which they have once sworn +allegiance. I have here taken official honor in a wider sense than +that in which it is generally used, namely, the respect due by +citizens to an office itself. + +In treating of _sexual honor_ and the principles on which it rests, a +little more attention and analysis are necessary; and what I shall +say will support my contention that all honor really rests upon a +utilitarian basis. There are two natural divisions of the subject--the +honor of women and the honor of men, in either side issuing in a +well-understood _esprit de corps_. The former is by far the more +important of the two, because the most essential feature in woman's +life is her relation to man. + +Female honor is the general opinion in regard to a girl that she is +pure, and in regard to a wife that she is faithful. The importance of +this opinion rests upon the following considerations. Women depend +upon men in all the relations of life; men upon women, it might +be said, in one only. So an arrangement is made for mutual +interdependence--man undertaking responsibility for all woman's needs +and also for the children that spring from their union--an arrangement +on which is based the welfare of the whole female race. To carry out +this plan, women have to band together with a show of _esprit de +corps_, and present one undivided front to their common enemy, +man,--who possesses all the good things of the earth, in virtue of his +superior physical and intellectual power,--in order to lay siege to +and conquer him, and so get possession of him and a share of those +good things. To this end the honor of all women depends upon the +enforcement of the rule that no woman should give herself to a man +except in marriage, in order that every man may be forced, as it +were, to surrender and ally himself with a woman; by this arrangement +provision is made for the whole of the female race. This is a result, +however, which can be obtained only by a strict observance of the +rule; and, accordingly, women everywhere show true _esprit de corps_ +in carefully insisting upon its maintenance. Any girl who commits a +breach of the rule betrays the whole female race, because its welfare +would be destroyed if every woman were to do likewise; so she is cast +out with shame as one who has lost her honor. No woman will have +anything more to do with her; she is avoided like the plague. The same +doom is awarded to a woman who breaks the marriage tie; for in so +doing she is false to the terms upon which the man capitulated; and +as her conduct is such as to frighten other men from making a similar +surrender, it imperils the welfare of all her sisters. Nay, more; this +deception and coarse breach of troth is a crime punishable by the +loss, not only of personal, but also of civic honor. This is why we +minimize the shame of a girl, but not of a wife; because, in the +former case, marriage can restore honor, while in the latter, no +atonement can be made for the breach of contract. + +Once this _esprit de corps_ is acknowledged to be the foundation +of female honor, and is seen to be a wholesome, nay, a necessary +arrangement, as at bottom a matter of prudence and interest, its +extreme importance for the welfare of women will be recognized. But +it does not possess anything more than a relative value. It is no +absolute end, lying beyond all other aims of existence and valued +above life itself. In this view, there will be nothing to applaud +in the forced and extravagant conduct of a Lucretia or a +Virginius--conduct which can easily degenerate into tragic farce, and +produce a terrible feeling of revulsion. The conclusion of _Emilia +Galotti_, for instance, makes one leave the theatre completely ill at +ease; and, on the other hand, all the rules of female honor cannot +prevent a certain sympathy with Clara in _Egmont_. To carry this +principle of female honor too far is to forget the end in thinking +of the means--and this is just what people often do; for such +exaggeration suggests that the value of sexual honor is absolute; +while the truth is that it is more relative than any other kind. One +might go so far as to say that its value is purely conventional, when +one sees from Thomasius how in all ages and countries, up to the time +of the Reformation, irregularities were permitted and recognized by +law, with no derogation to female honor,--not to speak of the temple +of Mylitta at Babylon.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Heroditus, i. 199.] + +There are also of course certain circumstances in civil life which +make external forms of marriage impossible, especially in Catholic +countries, where there is no such thing as divorce. Ruling princes +everywhere, would, in my opinion, do much better, from a moral point +of view, to dispense with forms altogether rather than contract a +morganatic marriage, the descendants of which might raise claims to +the throne if the legitimate stock happened to die out; so that there +is a possibility, though, perhaps, a remote one, that a morganatic +marriage might produce a civil war. And, besides, such a marriage, +concluded in defiance of all outward ceremony, is a concession made to +women and priests--two classes of persons to whom one should be most +careful to give as little tether as possible. It is further to be +remarked that every man in a country can marry the woman of his +choice, except one poor individual, namely, the prince. His hand +belongs to his country, and can be given in marriage only for reasons +of State, that is, for the good of the country. Still, for all that, +he is a man; and, as a man, he likes to follow whither his heart +leads. It is an unjust, ungrateful and priggish thing to forbid, or +to desire to forbid, a prince from following his inclinations in this +matter; of course, as long as the lady has no influence upon the +Government of the country. From her point of view she occupies an +exceptional position, and does not come under the ordinary rules of +sexual honor; for she has merely given herself to a man who loves her, +and whom she loves but cannot marry. And in general, the fact that the +principle of female honor has no origin in nature, is shown by the +many bloody sacrifices which have been offered to it,--the murder of +children and the mother's suicide. No doubt a girl who contravenes the +code commits a breach of faith against her whole sex; but this faith +is one which is only secretly taken for granted, and not sworn to. And +since, in most cases, her own prospects suffer most immediately, her +folly is infinitely greater than her crime. + +The corresponding virtue in men is a product of the one I have been +discussing. It is their _esprit de corps_, which demands that, once +a man has made that surrender of himself in marriage which is so +advantageous to his conqueror, he shall take care that the terms of +the treaty are maintained; both in order that the agreement itself +may lose none of its force by the permission of any laxity in its +observance, and that men, having given up everything, may, at +least, be assured of their bargain, namely, exclusive possession. +Accordingly, it is part of a man's honor to resent a breach of the +marriage tie on the part of his wife, and to punish it, at the +very least by separating from her. If he condones the offence, his +fellowmen cry shame upon him; but the shame in this case is not nearly +so foul as that of the woman who has lost her honor; the stain is by +no means of so deep a dye--_levioris notae macula_;--because a man's +relation to woman is subordinate to many other and more important +affairs in his life. The two great dramatic poets of modern times +have each taken man's honor as the theme of two plays; Shakespeare in +_Othello_ and _The Winter's Tale_, and Calderon in _El medico de su +honra_, (The Physician of his Honor), and _A secreto agravio secreta +venganza_, (for Secret Insult Secret Vengeance). It should be said, +however, that honor demands the punishment of the wife only; to punish +her paramour too, is a work of supererogation. This confirms the view +I have taken, that a man's honor originates in _esprit de corps_. + +The kind of honor which I have been discussing hitherto has always +existed in its various forms and principles amongst all nations and +at all times; although the history of female honor shows that its +principles have undergone certain local modifications at different +periods. But there is another species of honor which differs from this +entirely, a species of honor of which the Greeks and Romans had +no conception, and up to this day it is perfectly unknown amongst +Chinese, Hindoos or Mohammedans. It is a kind of honor which arose +only in the Middle Age, and is indigenous only to Christian Europe, +nay, only to an extremely small portion of the population, that is +to say, the higher classes of society and those who ape them. It is +_knightly honor_, or _point d'honneur_. Its principles are quite +different from those which underlie the kind of honor I have been +treating until now, and in some respects are even opposed to them. The +sort I am referring to produces the _cavalier_; while the other kind +creates the _man of honor_. As this is so, I shall proceed to give an +explanation of its principles, as a kind of code or mirror of knightly +courtesy. + +(1.) To begin with, honor of this sort consists, not in other people's +opinion of what we are worth, but wholly and entirely in whether they +express it or not, no matter whether they really have any opinion at +all, let alone whether they know of reasons for having one. Other +people may entertain the worst opinion of us in consequence of what we +do, and may despise us as much as they like; so long as no one dares +to give expression to his opinion, our honor remains untarnished. So +if our actions and qualities compel the highest respect from other +people, and they have no option but to give this respect,--as soon as +anyone, no matter how wicked or foolish he may be, utters something +depreciatory of us, our honor is offended, nay, gone for ever, unless +we can manage to restore it. A superfluous proof of what I say, +namely, that knightly honor depends, not upon what people think, but +upon what they say, is furnished by the fact that insults can be +withdrawn, or, if necessary, form the subject of an apology, which +makes them as though they had never been uttered. Whether the opinion +which underlays the expression has also been rectified, and why +the expression should ever have been used, are questions which are +perfectly unimportant: so long as the statement is withdrawn, all is +well. The truth is that conduct of this kind aims, not at earning +respect, but at extorting it. + +(2.) In the second place, this sort of honor rests, not on what a man +does, but on what he suffers, the obstacles he encounters; differing +from the honor which prevails in all else, in consisting, not in what +he says or does himself, but in what another man says or does. His +honor is thus at the mercy of every man who can talk it away on the +tip of his tongue; and if he attacks it, in a moment it is gone for +ever,--unless the man who is attacked manages to wrest it back again +by a process which I shall mention presently, a process which involves +danger to his life, health, freedom, property and peace of mind. A +man's whole conduct may be in accordance with the most righteous and +noble principles, his spirit may be the purest that ever breathed, his +intellect of the very highest order; and yet his honor may disappear +the moment that anyone is pleased to insult him, anyone at all who has +not offended against this code of honor himself, let him be the most +worthless rascal or the most stupid beast, an idler, gambler, debtor, +a man, in short, of no account at all. It is usually this sort of +fellow who likes to insult people; for, as Seneca[1] rightly remarks, +_ut quisque contemtissimus et ludibrio est, ita solutissimae est_, the +more contemptible and ridiculous a man is,--the readier he is with his +tongue. His insults are most likely to be directed against the very +kind of man I have described, because people of different tastes can +never be friends, and the sight of pre-eminent merit is apt to +raise the secret ire of a ne'er-do-well. What Goethe says in the +_Westoestlicher Divan_ is quite true, that it is useless to complain +against your enemies; for they can never become your friends, if your +whole being is a standing reproach to them:-- + + _Was klagst du ueber Feinde? + Sollten Solche je warden Freunde + Denen das Wesen, wie du bist, + Im stillen ein ewiger Vorwurf ist_? + +[Footnote 1: _De Constantia_, 11.] + +It is obvious that people of this worthless description have good +cause to be thankful to the principle of honor, because it puts them +on a level with people who in every other respect stand far above +them. If a fellow likes to insult any one, attribute to him, +for example, some bad quality, this is taken _prima facie_ as a +well-founded opinion, true in fact; a decree, as it were, with all the +force of law; nay, if it is not at once wiped out in blood, it is a +judgment which holds good and valid to all time. In other words, +the man who is insulted remains--in the eyes of all _honorable +people_--what the man who uttered the insult--even though he were the +greatest wretch on earth--was pleased to call him; for he has _put +up with_ the insult--the technical term, I believe. Accordingly, all +_honorable people_ will have nothing more to do with him, and treat +him like a leper, and, it may be, refuse to go into any company where +he may be found, and so on. + +This wise proceeding may, I think, be traced back to the fact that in +the Middle Age, up to the fifteenth century, it was not the accuser in +any criminal process who had to prove the guilt of the accused, but +the accused who had to prove his innocence.[1] This he could do by +swearing he was not guilty; and his backers--_consacramentales_--had +to come and swear that in their opinion he was incapable of perjury. +If he could find no one to help him in this way, or the accuser took +objection to his backers, recourse was had to trial by _the Judgment +of God_, which generally meant a duel. For the accused was now _in +disgrace_,[2] and had to clear himself. Here, then, is the origin +of the notion of disgrace, and of that whole system which prevails +now-a-days amongst _honorable people_--only that the oath is omitted. +This is also the explanation of that deep feeling of indignation which +_honorable people_ are called upon to show if they are given the lie; +it is a reproach which they say must be wiped out in blood. It seldom +comes to this pass, however, though lies are of common occurrence; but +in England, more than elsewhere, it is a superstition which has taken +very deep root. As a matter of order, a man who threatens to kill +another for telling a lie should never have told one himself. The +fact is, that the criminal trial of the Middle Age also admitted of a +shorter form. In reply to the charge, the accused answered: _That is +a lie_; whereupon it was left to be decided by _the Judgment of God_. +Hence, the code of knightly honor prescribes that, when the lie is +given, an appeal to arms follows as a matter of course. So much, then, +for the theory of insult. + +[Footnote 1: See C.G. von Waehter's _Beitraege zur deutschen +Geschichte_, especially the chapter on criminal law.] + +[Footnote 2: _Translator's Note_.--It is true that this expression has +another special meaning in the technical terminology of Chivalry, +but it is the nearest English equivalent which I can find for the +German--_ein Bescholtener_] + +But there is something even worse than insult, something so dreadful +that I must beg pardon of all _honorable people_ for so much as +mentioning it in this code of knightly honor; for I know they will +shiver, and their hair will stand on end, at the very thought of +it--the _summum malum_, the greatest evil on earth, worse than death +and damnation. A man may give another--_horrible dictu_!--a slap or a +blow. This is such an awful thing, and so utterly fatal to all +honor, that, while any other species of insult may be healed by +blood-letting, this can be cured only by the _coup-de-grace_. + +(3.) In the third place, this kind of honor has absolutely nothing +to do with what a man may be in and for himself; or, again, with the +question whether his moral character can ever become better or worse, +and all such pedantic inquiries. If your honor happens to be attacked, +or to all appearances gone, it can very soon be restored in its +entirety if you are only quick enough in having recourse to the one +universal remedy--_a duel_. But if the aggressor does not belong to +the classes which recognize the code of knightly honor, or has himself +once offended against it, there is a safer way of meeting any attack +upon your honor, whether it consists in blows, or merely in words. +If you are armed, you can strike down your opponent on the spot, or +perhaps an hour later. This will restore your honor. + +But if you wish to avoid such an extreme step, from fear of any +unpleasant consequences arising therefrom, or from uncertainty as to +whether the aggressor is subject to the laws of knightly honor or +not, there is another means of making your position good, namely, the +_Avantage_. This consists in returning rudeness with still greater +rudeness; and if insults are no use, you can try a blow, which forms a +sort of climax in the redemption of your honor; for instance, a box on +the ear may be cured by a blow with a stick, and a blow with a stick +by a thrashing with a horsewhip; and, as the approved remedy for this +last, some people recommend you to spit at your opponent.[1] If all +these means are of no avail, you must not shrink from drawing blood. +And the reason for these methods of wiping out insult is, in this +code, as follows: + +[Footnote 1: _Translator's Note_. It must be remembered that +Schopenhauer is here describing, or perhaps caricaturing the manners +and customs of the German aristocracy of half a century ago. Now, of +course, _nous avons change tout cela_!] + +(4.) To receive an insult is disgraceful; to give one, honorable. Let +me take an example. My opponent has truth, right and reason on his +side. Very well. I insult him. Thereupon right and honor leave him and +come to me, and, for the time being, he has lost them--until he gets +them back, not by the exercise of right or reason, but by shooting and +sticking me. Accordingly, rudeness is a quality which, in point of +honor, is a substitute for any other and outweighs them all. The +rudest is always right. What more do you want? However stupid, bad or +wicked a man may have been, if he is only rude into the bargain, he +condones and legitimizes all his faults. If in any discussion or +conversation, another man shows more knowledge, greater love of +truth, a sounder judgment, better understanding than we, or generally +exhibits intellectual qualities which cast ours into the shade, we can +at once annul his superiority and our own shallowness, and in our turn +be superior to him, by being insulting and offensive. For rudeness +is better than any argument; it totally eclipses intellect. If our +opponent does not care for our mode of attack, and will not answer +still more rudely, so as to plunge us into the ignoble rivalry of +the _Avantage_, we are the victors and honor is on our side. Truth, +knowledge, understanding, intellect, wit, must beat a retreat and +leave the field to this almighty insolence. + +_Honorable people_ immediately make a show of mounting their +war-horse, if anyone utters an opinion adverse to theirs, or shows +more intelligence than they can muster; and if in any controversy +they are at a loss for a reply, they look about for some weapon of +rudeness, which will serve as well and come readier to hand; so they +retire masters of the position. It must now be obvious that people are +quite right in applauding this principle of honor as having ennobled +the tone of society. This principle springs from another, which forms +the heart and soul of the entire code. + +(5.) Fifthly, the code implies that the highest court to which a man +can appeal in any differences he may have with another on a point of +honor is the court of physical force, that is, of brutality. Every +piece of rudeness is, strictly speaking, an appeal to brutality; for +it is a declaration that intellectual strength and moral insight are +incompetent to decide, and that the battle must be fought out by +physical force--a struggle which, in the case of man, whom Franklin +defines as _a tool-making animal_, is decided by the weapons peculiar +to the species; and the decision is irrevocable. This is the +well-known principle of _right of might_--irony, of course, like _the +wit of a fool_, a parallel phrase. The honor of a knight may be called +the glory of might. + +(6.) Lastly, if, as we saw above, civic honor is very scrupulous in +the matter of _meum_ and _tuum_, paying great respect to obligations +and a promise once made, the code we are here discussing displays, on +the other hand, the noblest liberality. There is only one word which +may not be broken, _the word of honor_--upon my _honor_, as people +say--the presumption being, of course, that every other form of +promise may be broken. Nay, if the worst comes to the worst, it +is easy to break even one's word of honor, and still remain +honorable--again by adopting that universal remedy, the duel, and +fighting with those who maintain that we pledged our word. Further, +there is one debt, and one alone, that under no circumstances must be +left unpaid--a gambling debt, which has accordingly been called _a +debt of honor_. In all other kinds of debt you may cheat Jews and +Christians as much as you like; and your knightly honor remains +without a stain. + +The unprejudiced reader will see at once that such a strange, savage +and ridiculous code of honor as this has no foundation in human +nature, nor any warrant in a healthy view of human affairs. The +extremely narrow sphere of its operation serves only to intensify the +feeling, which is exclusively confined to Europe since the Middle Age, +and then only to the upper classes, officers and soldiers, and people +who imitate them. Neither Greeks nor Romans knew anything of this code +of honor or of its principles; nor the highly civilized nations of +Asia, ancient or modern. Amongst them no other kind of honor is +recognized but that which I discussed first, in virtue of which a man +is what he shows himself to be by his actions, not what any wagging +tongue is pleased to say of him. They thought that what a man said or +did might perhaps affect his own honor, but not any other man's. To +them, a blow was but a blow--and any horse or donkey could give a +harder one--a blow which under certain circumstances might make a man +angry and demand immediate vengeance; but it had nothing to do with +honor. No one kept account of blows or insulting words, or of the +_satisfaction_ which was demanded or omitted to be demanded. Yet in +personal bravery and contempt of death, the ancients were certainly +not inferior to the nations of Christian Europe. The Greeks and Romans +were thorough heroes, if you like; but they knew nothing about +_point d'honneur_. If _they_ had any idea of a duel, it was totally +unconnected with the life of the nobles; it was merely the exhibition +of mercenary gladiators, slaves devoted to slaughter, condemned +criminals, who, alternately with wild beasts, were set to butcher one +another to make a Roman holiday. When Christianity was introduced, +gladiatorial shows were done away with, and their place taken, in +Christian times, by the duel, which was a way of settling difficulties +by _the Judgment of God_. + +If the gladiatorial fight was a cruel sacrifice to the prevailing +desire for great spectacles, dueling is a cruel sacrifice to existing +prejudices--a sacrifice, not of criminals, slaves and prisoners, but +of the noble and the free.[1] + +[Footnote 1: _Translator's Note_. These and other remarks on dueling +will no doubt wear a belated look to English readers; but they are +hardly yet antiquated for most parts of the Continent.] + +There are a great many traits in the character of the ancients which +show that they were entirely free from these prejudices. When, for +instance, Marius was summoned to a duel by a Teutonic chief, he +returned answer to the effect that, if the chief were tired of his +life, he might go and hang himself; at the same time he offered him a +veteran gladiator for a round or two. Plutarch relates in his life of +Themistocles that Eurybiades, who was in command of the fleet, once +raised his stick to strike him; whereupon Themistocles, instead of +drawing his sword, simply said: _Strike, but hear me_. How sorry the +reader must be, if he is an _honorable_ man, to find that we have no +information that the Athenian officers refused in a body to serve any +longer under Themistocles, if he acted like that! There is a modern +French writer who declares that if anyone considers Demosthenes a man +of honor, his ignorance will excite a smile of pity; and that Cicero +was not a man of honor either![1] In a certain passage in Plato's +_Laws_[2] the philosopher speaks at length of [Greek: aikia] or +_assault_, showing us clearly enough that the ancients had no notion +of any feeling of honor in connection with such matters. Socrates' +frequent discussions were often followed by his being severely +handled, and he bore it all mildly. Once, for instance, when somebody +kicked him, the patience with which he took the insult surprised +one of his friends. _Do you think_, said Socrates, _that if an ass +happened to kick me, I should resent it_?[3] On another occasion, when +he was asked, _Has not that fellow abused and insulted you? No_, was +his answer, _what he says is not addressed to me_[4] Stobaeus has +preserved a long passage from Musonius, from which we can see how the +ancients treated insults. They knew no other form of satisfaction than +that which the law provided, and wise people despised even this. If a +Greek received a box on the ear, he could get satisfaction by the aid +of the law; as is evident from Plato's _Gorgias_, where Socrates' +opinion may be found. The same thing may be seen in the account given +by Gellius of one Lucius Veratius, who had the audacity to give some +Roman citizens whom he met on the road a box on the ear, without any +provocation whatever; but to avoid any ulterior consequences, he +told a slave to bring a bag of small money, and on the spot paid +the trivial legal penalty to the men whom he had astonished by his +conduct. + +[Footnote 1:_litteraires_: par C. Durand. Rouen, 1828.] + +[Footnote 2: Bk. IX.]. + +[Footnote 3: Diogenes Laertius, ii., 21.] + +[Footnote 4: _Ibid_ 36.] + +Crates, the celebrated Cynic philosopher, got such a box on the ear +from Nicodromus, the musician, that his face swelled up and became +black and blue; whereupon he put a label on his forehead, with the +inscription, _Nicodromus fecit_, which brought much disgrace to the +fluteplayer who had committed such a piece of brutality upon the man +whom all Athens honored as a household god.[1] And in a letter to +Melesippus, Diogenes of Sinope tells us that he got a beating from the +drunken sons of the Athenians; but he adds that it was a matter of no +importance.[2] And Seneca devotes the last few chapters of his _De +Constantia_ to a lengthy discussion on insult--_contumelia_; in order +to show that a wise man will take no notice of it. In Chapter XIV, he +says, _What shall a wise man do, if he is given a blow? What Cato did, +when some one struck him on the mouth;--not fire up or avenge the +insult, or even return the blow, but simply ignore it_. + +[Footnote 1: Diogenes Laertius, vi. 87, and Apul: Flor: p. 126.] + +[Footnote 2: Cf. Casaubon's Note, Diog. Laert., vi. 33.] + +_Yes_, you say, _but these men were philosophers_.--And you are fools, +eh? Precisely. + +It is clear that the whole code of knightly honor was utterly unknown +to the ancients; for the simple reason that they always took a natural +and unprejudiced view of human affairs, and did not allow themselves +to be influenced by any such vicious and abominable folly. A blow +in the face was to them a blow and nothing more, a trivial physical +injury; whereas the moderns make a catastrophe out of it, a theme for +a tragedy; as, for instance, in the _Cid_ of Corneille, or in a +recent German comedy of middle-class life, called _The Power of +Circumstance_, which should have been entitled _The Power of +Prejudice_. If a member of the National Assembly at Paris got a blow +on the ear, it would resound from one end of Europe to the other. The +examples which I have given of the way in which such an occurrence +would have been treated in classic times may not suit the ideas of +_honorable people_; so let me recommend to their notice, as a kind of +antidote, the story of Monsieur Desglands in Diderot's masterpiece, +_Jacques le fataliste_. It is an excellent specimen of modern knightly +honor, which, no doubt, they will find enjoyable and edifying.[1] + +[Footnote: 1: _Translator's Note_. The story to which Schopenhauer +here refers is briefly as follows: Two gentlemen, one of whom was +named Desglands, were paying court to the same lady. As they sat at +table side by side, with the lady opposite, Desglands did his best to +charm her with his conversation; but she pretended not to hear him, +and kept looking at his rival. In the agony of jealousy, Desglands, as +he was holding a fresh egg in his hand, involuntarily crushed it; the +shell broke, and its contents bespattered his rival's face. Seeing him +raise his hand, Desglands seized it and whispered: _Sir, I take it as +given_. The next day Desglands appeared with a large piece of black +sticking-plaster upon his right cheek. In the duel which followed, +Desglands severely wounded his rival; upon which he reduced the size +of the plaster. When his rival recovered, they had another duel; +Desglands drew blood again, and again made his plaster a little +smaller; and so on for five or six times. After every duel Desglands' +plaster grew less and less, until at last his rival.] + +From what I have said it must be quite evident that the principle +of knightly honor has no essential and spontaneous origin in human +nature. It is an artificial product, and its source is not hard to +find. Its existence obviously dates from the time when people used +their fists more than their heads, when priestcraft had enchained the +human intellect, the much bepraised Middle Age, with its system of +chivalry. That was the time when people let the Almighty not only care +for them but judge for them too; when difficult cases were decided by +an ordeal, a _Judgment of God_; which, with few exceptions, meant +a duel, not only where nobles were concerned, but in the case of +ordinary citizens as well. There is a neat illustration of this in +Shakespeare's Henry VI.[1] Every judicial sentence was subject to an +appeal to arms--a court, as it were, of higher instance, namely, _the +Judgment of God_: and this really meant that physical strength and +activity, that is, our animal nature, usurped the place of reason on +the judgment seat, deciding in matters of right and wrong, not by what +a man had done, but by the force with which he was opposed, the same +system, in fact, as prevails to-day under the principles of knightly +honor. If any one doubts that such is really the origin of our modern +duel, let him read an excellent work by J.B. Millingen, _The History +of Dueling_.[2] Nay, you may still find amongst the supporters of +the system,--who, by the way are not usually the most educated or +thoughtful of men,--some who look upon the result of a duel as really +constituting a divine judgment in the matter in dispute; no doubt in +consequence of the traditional feeling on the subject. + +But leaving aside the question of origin, it must now be clear to us +that the main tendency of the principle is to use physical menace for +the purpose of extorting an appearance of respect which is deemed too +difficult or superfluous to acquire in reality; a proceeding which +comes to much the same thing as if you were to prove the warmth of +your room by holding your hand on the thermometer and so make it rise. +In fact, the kernel of the matter is this: whereas civic honor aims +at peaceable intercourse, and consists in the opinion of other people +that _we deserve full confidence_, because we pay unconditional +respect to their rights; knightly honor, on the other hand, lays +down that _we are to be feared_, as being determined at all costs to +maintain our own. + +As not much reliance can be placed upon human integrity, the principle +that it is more essential to arouse fear than to invite confidence +would not, perhaps, be a false one, if we were living in a state of +nature, where every man would have to protect himself and directly +maintain his own rights. But in civilized life, where the State +undertakes the protection of our person and property, the principle is +no longer applicable: it stands, like the castles and watch-towers of +the age when might was right, a useless and forlorn object, amidst +well-tilled fields and frequented roads, or even railways. + +Accordingly, the application of knightly honor, which still recognizes +this principle, is confined to those small cases of personal assault +which meet with but slight punishment at the hands of the law, or even +none at all, for _de minimis non_,--mere trivial wrongs, committed +sometimes only in jest. The consequence of this limited application of +the principle is that it has forced itself into an exaggerated respect +for the value of the person,--a respect utterly alien to the nature, +constitution or destiny of man--which it has elated into a species +of sanctity: and as it considers that the State has imposed a very +insufficient penalty on the commission of such trivial injuries, it +takes upon itself to punish them by attacking the aggressor in life +or limb. The whole thing manifestly rests upon an excessive degree +of arrogant pride, which, completely forgetting what man really is, +claims that he shall be absolutely free from all attack or even +censure. Those who determine to carry out this principle by main +force, and announce, as their rule of action, _whoever insults or +strikes me shall die_! ought for their pains to be banished the +country.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Knightly honor is the child of pride and folly, and it is +_needy_ not pride, which is the heritage of the human race. It is a +very remarkable fact that this extreme form of pride should be found +exclusively amongst the adherents of the religion which teaches the +deepest humility. Still, this pride must not be put down to religion, +but, rather, to the feudal system, which made every nobleman a petty +sovereign who recognized no human judge, and learned to regard his +person as sacred and inviolable, and any attack upon it, or any blow +or insulting word, as an offence punishable with death. The principle +of knightly honor and of the duel were at first confined to the +nobles, and, later on, also to officers in the army, who, enjoying a +kind of off-and-on relationship with the upper classes, though they +were never incorporated with them, were anxious not to be behind them. +It is true that duels were the product of the old ordeals; but +the latter are not the foundation, but rather the consequence and +application of the principle of honor: the man who recognized no human +judge appealed to the divine. Ordeals, however, are not peculiar to +Christendom: they may be found in great force among the Hindoos, +especially of ancient times; and there are traces of them even now.] + +As a palliative to this rash arrogance, people are in the habit of +giving way on everything. If two intrepid persons meet, and neither +will give way, the slightest difference may cause a shower of abuse, +then fisticuffs, and, finally, a fatal blow: so that it would really +be a more decorous proceeding to omit the intermediate steps and +appeal to arms at once. An appeal to arms has its own special +formalities; and these have developed into a rigid and precise system +of laws and regulations, together forming the most solemn farce there +is--a regular temple of honor dedicated to folly! For if two intrepid +persons dispute over some trivial matter, (more important affairs are +dealt with by law), one of them, the cleverer of the two, will of +course yield; and they will agree to differ. That this is so is proved +by the fact that common people,--or, rather, the numerous classes of +the community who do not acknowledge the principle of knightly honor, +let any dispute run its natural course. Amongst these classes homicide +is a hundredfold rarer than amongst those--and they amount, perhaps, +in all, to hardly one in a thousand,--who pay homage to the principle: +and even blows are of no very frequent occurrence. + +Then it has been said that the manners and tone of good society are +ultimately based upon this principle of honor, which, with its system +of duels, is made out to be a bulwark against the assaults of savagery +and rudeness. But Athens, Corinth and Rome could assuredly boast of +good, nay, excellent society, and manners and tone of a high order, +without any support from the bogey of knightly honor. It is true that +women did not occupy that prominent place in ancient society which +they hold now, when conversation has taken on a frivolous and +trifling character, to the exclusion of that weighty discourse which +distinguished the ancients. + +This change has certainly contributed a great deal to bring about the +tendency, which is observable in good society now-a-days, to prefer +personal courage to the possession of any other quality. The fact is +that personal courage is really a very subordinate virtue,--merely the +distinguishing mark of a subaltern,--a virtue, indeed, in which we are +surpassed by the lower animals; or else you would not hear people say, +_as brave as a lion_. Far from being the pillar of society, knightly +honor affords a sure asylum, in general for dishonesty and wickedness, +and also for small incivilities, want of consideration and +unmannerliness. Rude behavior is often passed over in silence because +no one cares to risk his neck in correcting it. + +After what I have said, it will not appear strange that the dueling +system is carried to the highest pitch of sanguinary zeal precisely in +that nation whose political and financial records show that they +are not too honorable. What that nation is like in its private and +domestic life, is a question which may be best put to those who are +experienced in the matter. Their urbanity and social culture have long +been conspicuous by their absence. + +There is no truth, then, in such pretexts. It can be urged with more +justice that as, when you snarl at a dog, he snarls in return, and +when you pet him, he fawns; so it lies in the nature of men to return +hostility by hostility, and to be embittered and irritated at any +signs of depreciatory treatment or hatred: and, as Cicero says, _there +is something so penetrating in the shaft of envy that even men of +wisdom and worth find its wound a painful one_; and nowhere in the +world, except, perhaps, in a few religious sects, is an insult or a +blow taken with equanimity. And yet a natural view of either would +in no case demand anything more than a requital proportionate to the +offence, and would never go to the length of assigning _death_ as the +proper penalty for anyone who accuses another of lying or stupidity or +cowardice. The old German theory of _blood for a blow_ is a revolting +superstition of the age of chivalry. And in any case the return or +requital of an insult is dictated by anger, and not by any such +obligation of honor and duty as the advocates of chivalry seek to +attach to it. The fact is that, the greater the truth, the greater +the slander; and it is clear that the slightest hint of some real +delinquency will give much greater offence than a most terrible +accusation which is perfectly baseless: so that a man who is quite +sure that he has done nothing to deserve a reproach may treat it with +contempt, and will be safe in doing so. The theory of honor demands +that he shall show a susceptibility which he does not possess, and +take bloody vengeance for insults which he cannot feel. A man must +himself have but a poor opinion of his own worth who hastens to +prevent the utterance of an unfavorable opinion by giving his enemy a +black eye. + +True appreciation of his own value will make a man really indifferent +to insult; but if he cannot help resenting it, a little shrewdness and +culture will enable him to save appearances and dissemble his anger. +If he could only get rid of this superstition about honor--the idea, I +mean, that it disappears when you are insulted, and can be restored by +returning the insult; if we could only stop people from thinking +that wrong, brutality and insolence can be legalized by expressing +readiness to give satisfaction, that is, to fight in defence of it, +we should all soon come to the general opinion that insult and +depreciation are like a battle in which the loser wins; and that, as +Vincenzo Monti says, abuse resembles a church-procession, because it +always returns to the point from which it set out. If we could only +get people to look upon insult in this light, we should no longer have +to say something rude in order to prove that we are in the right. Now, +unfortunately, if we want to take a serious view of any question, we +have first of all to consider whether it will not give offence in some +way or other to the dullard, who generally shows alarm and resentment +at the merest sign of intelligence; and it may easily happen that the +head which contains the intelligent view has to be pitted against the +noodle which is empty of everything but narrowness and stupidity. If +all this were done away with, intellectual superiority could take +the leading place in society which is its due--a place now occupied, +though people do not like to confess it, by excellence of physique, +mere fighting pluck, in fact; and the natural effect of such a change +would be that the best kind of people would have one reason the +less for withdrawing from society. This would pave the way for the +introduction of real courtesy and genuinely good society, such as +undoubtedly existed in Athens, Corinth and Rome. If anyone wants +to see a good example of what I mean, I should like him to read +Xenophon's _Banquet_. + +The last argument in defence of knightly honor no doubt is, that, +but for its existence, the world--awful thought!--would be a regular +bear-garden. To which I may briefly reply that nine hundred and +ninety-nine people out of a thousand who do not recognize the code, +have often given and received a blow without any fatal consequences: +whereas amongst the adherents of the code a blow usually means death +to one of the parties. But let me examine this argument more closely. + +I have often tried to find some tenable, or at any rate, plausible +basis--other than a merely conventional one--some positive reasons, +that is to say, for the rooted conviction which a portion of mankind +entertains, that a blow is a very dreadful thing; but I have looked +for it in vain, either in the animal or in the rational side of human +nature. A blow is, and always will be, a trivial physical injury which +one man can do to another; proving, thereby, nothing more than his +superiority in strength or skill, or that his enemy was off his guard. +Analysis will carry us no further. The same knight who regards a blow +from the human hand as the greatest of evils, if he gets a ten times +harder blow from his horse, will give you the assurance, as he limps +away in suppressed pain, that it is a matter of no consequence +whatever. So I have come to think that it is the human hand which is +at the bottom of the mischief. And yet in a battle the knight may get +cuts and thrusts from the same hand, and still assure you that his +wounds are not worth mentioning. Now, I hear that a blow from the flat +of a sword is not by any means so bad as a blow from a stick; and +that, a short time ago, cadets were liable to be punished by the one +but not the other, and that the very greatest honor of all is the +_accolade_. This is all the psychological or moral basis that I can +find; and so there is nothing left me but to pronounce the whole thing +an antiquated superstition that has taken deep root, and one more +of the many examples which show the force of tradition. My view is +confirmed by the well-known fact that in China a beating with a bamboo +is a very frequent punishment for the common people, and even for +officials of every class; which shows that human nature, even in a +highly civilized state, does not run in the same groove here and in +China. + +On the contrary, an unprejudiced view of human nature shows that it is +just as natural for a man to beat as it is for savage animals to bite +and rend in pieces, or for horned beasts to butt or push. Man may be +said to be the animal that beats. Hence it is revolting to our sense +of the fitness of things to hear, as we sometimes do, that one man +bitten another; on the other hand, it is a natural and everyday +occurrence for him to get blows or give them. It is intelligible +enough that, as we become educated, we are glad to dispense with blows +by a system of mutual restraint. But it is a cruel thing to compel a +nation or a single class to regard a blow as an awful misfortune which +must have death and murder for its consequences. There are too +many genuine evils in the world to allow of our increasing them by +imaginary misfortunes, which brings real ones in their train: and yet +this is the precise effect of the superstition, which thus proves +itself at once stupid and malign. + +It does not seem to me wise of governments and legislative bodies to +promote any such folly by attempting to do away with flogging as a +punishment in civil or military life. Their idea is that they are +acting in the interests of humanity; but, in point of fact, they are +doing just the opposite; for the abolition of flogging will serve only +to strengthen this inhuman and abominable superstition, to which so +many sacrifices have already been made. For all offences, except the +worst, a beating is the obvious, and therefore the natural penalty; +and a man who will not listen to reason will yield to blows. It seems +to me right and proper to administer corporal punishment to the man +who possesses nothing and therefore cannot be fined, or cannot be put +in prison because his master's interests would suffer by the loss of +his service. There are really no arguments against it: only mere talk +about _the dignity of man_--talk which proceeds, not from any clear +notions on the subject, but from the pernicious superstition I have +been describing. That it is a superstition which lies at the bottom of +the whole business is proved by an almost laughable example. Not +long ago, in the military discipline of many countries, the cat was +replaced by the stick. In either case the object was to produce +physical pain; but the latter method involved no disgrace, and was not +derogatory to honor. + +By promoting this superstition, the State is playing into the hands of +the principle of knightly honor, and therefore of the duel; while at +the same time it is trying, or at any rate it pretends it is trying, +to abolish the duel by legislative enactment. As a natural consequence +we find that this fragment of the theory that _might is right_, which +has come down to us from the most savage days of the Middle Age, has +still in this nineteenth century a good deal of life left in it--more +shame to us! It is high time for the principle to be driven out bag +and baggage. Now-a-days no one is allowed to set dogs or cocks to +fight each other,--at any rate, in England it is a penal offence,--but +men are plunged into deadly strife, against their will, by the +operation of this ridiculous, superstitious and absurd principle, +which imposes upon us the obligation, as its narrow-minded supporters +and advocates declare, of fighting with one another like gladiators, +for any little trifle. Let me recommend our purists to adopt the +expression _baiting_[1] instead of _duel_, which probably comes to us, +not from the Latin _duellum_, but from the Spanish _duelo_,--meaning +suffering, nuisance, annoyance. + +[Footnote 1: _Ritterhetze_] + +In any case, we may well laugh at the pedantic excess to which this +foolish system has been carried. It is really revolting that this +principle, with its absurd code, can form a power within the +State--_imperium in imperio_--a power too easily put in motion, which, +recognizing no right but might, tyrannizes over the classes which come +within its range, by keeping up a sort of inquisition, before which +any one may be haled on the most flimsy pretext, and there and then be +tried on an issue of life and death between himself and his opponent. +This is the lurking place from which every rascal, if he only belongs +to the classes in question, may menace and even exterminate the +noblest and best of men, who, as such, must of course be an object of +hatred to him. Our system of justice and police-protection has made it +impossible in these days for any scoundrel in the street to attack us +with--_Your money or your life_! An end should be put to the burden +which weighs upon the higher classes--the burden, I mean, of having to +be ready every moment to expose life and limb to the mercy of anyone +who takes it into his rascally head to be coarse, rude, foolish or +malicious. It is perfectly atrocious that a pair of silly, passionate +boys should be wounded, maimed or even killed, simply because they +have had a few words. + +The strength of this tyrannical power within the State, and the force +of the superstition, may be measured by the fact that people who are +prevented from restoring their knightly honor by the superior or +inferior rank of their aggressor, or anything else that puts the +persons on a different level, often come to a tragic-comic end by +committing suicide in sheer despair. You may generally know a thing +to be false and ridiculous by finding that, if it is carried to its +logical conclusion, it results in a contradiction; and here, too, we +have a very glaring absurdity. For an officer is forbidden to take +part in a duel; but if he is challenged and declines to come out, he +is punished by being dismissed the service. + +As I am on the matter, let me be more frank still. The important +distinction, which is often insisted upon, between killing your enemy +in a fair fight with equal weapons, and lying in ambush for him, is +entirely a corollary of the fact that the power within the State, of +which I have spoken, recognizes no other right than might, that is, +the right of the stronger, and appeals to a _Judgment of God_ as the +basis of the whole code. For to kill a man in a fair fight, is to +prove that you are superior to him in strength or skill; and to +justify the deed, _you must assume that the right of the stronger is +really a right_. + +But the truth is that, if my opponent is unable to defend himself, it +gives me the possibility, but not by any means the right, of killing +him. The _right_, the _moral justification_, must depend entirely upon +the _motives_ which I have for taking his life. Even supposing that I +have sufficient motive for taking a man's life, there is no reason +why I should make his death depend upon whether I can shoot or fence +better than he. In such a case, it is immaterial in what way I kill +him, whether I attack him from the front or the rear. From a moral +point of view, the right of the stronger is no more convincing than +the right of the more skillful; and it is skill which is employed if +you murder a a man treacherously. Might and skill are in this case +equally right; in a duel, for instance, both the one and the other +come into play; for a feint is only another name for treachery. If I +consider myself morally justified in taking a man's life, it is stupid +of me to try first of all whether he can shoot or fence better than +I; as, if he can, he will not only have wronged me, but have taken my +life into the bargain. + +It is Rousseau's opinion that the proper way to avenge an insult is, +not to fight a duel with your aggressor, but to assassinate him,--an +opinion, however, which he is cautious enough only to barely indicate +in a mysterious note to one of the books of his _Emile_. This shows +the philosopher so completely under the influence of the mediaeval +superstition of knightly honor that he considers it justifiable to +murder a man who accuses you of lying: whilst he must have known that +every man, and himself especially, has deserved to have the lie given +him times without number. + +The prejudice which justifies the killing of your adversary, so long +as it is done in an open contest and with equal weapons, obviously +looks upon might as really right, and a duel as the interference of +God. The Italian who, in a fit of rage, falls upon his aggressor +wherever he finds him, and despatches him without any ceremony, acts, +at any rate, consistently and naturally: he may be cleverer, but he is +not worse, than the duelist. If you say, I am justified in killing my +adversary in a duel, because he is at the moment doing his best to +kill me; I can reply that it is your challenge which has placed him +under the necessity of defending himself; and that by mutually putting +it on the ground of self-defence, the combatants are seeking a +plausible pretext for committing murder. I should rather justify the +deed by the legal maxim _Volenti non fit injuria_; because the parties +mutually agree to set their life upon the issue. + +This argument may, however, be rebutted by showing that the injured +party is not injured _volens_; because it is this tyrannical principle +of knightly honor, with its absurd code, which forcibly drags one at +least of the combatants before a bloody inquisition. + +I have been rather prolix on the subject of knightly honor, but I +had good reason for being so, because the Augean stable of moral and +intellectual enormity in this world can be cleaned out only with the +besom of philosophy. There are two things which more than all +else serve to make the social arrangements of modern life compare +unfavorably with those of antiquity, by giving our age a gloomy, dark +and sinister aspect, from which antiquity, fresh, natural and, as it +were, in the morning of life, is completely free; I mean modern honor +and modern disease,--_par nobile fratrum_!--which have combined to +poison all the relations of life, whether public or private. The +second of this noble pair extends its influence much farther than at +first appears to be the case, as being not merely a physical, but also +a moral disease. From the time that poisoned arrows have been found +in Cupid's quiver, an estranging, hostile, nay, devilish element has +entered into the relations of men and women, like a sinister thread +of fear and mistrust in the warp and woof of their intercourse; +indirectly shaking the foundations of human fellowship, and so more or +less affecting the whole tenor of existence. But it would be beside my +present purpose to pursue the subject further. + +An influence analogous to this, though working on other lines, is +exerted by the principle of knightly honor,--that solemn farce, +unknown to the ancient world, which makes modern society stiff, gloomy +and timid, forcing us to keep the strictest watch on every word that +falls. Nor is this all. The principle is a universal Minotaur; and the +goodly company of the sons of noble houses which it demands in yearly +tribute, comes, not from one country alone, as of old, but from every +land in Europe. It is high time to make a regular attack upon this +foolish system; and this is what I am trying to do now. Would that +these two monsters of the modern world might disappear before the end +of the century! + +Let us hope that medicine may be able to find some means of preventing +the one, and that, by clearing our ideals, philosophy may put an end +to the other: for it is only by clearing our ideas that the evil can +be eradicated. Governments have tried to do so by legislation, and +failed. + +Still, if they are really concerned to stop the dueling system; and if +the small success that has attended their efforts is really due only +to their inability to cope with the evil, I do not mind proposing a +law the success of which I am prepared to guarantee. It will involve +no sanguinary measures, and can be put into operation without recourse +either to the scaffold or the gallows, or to imprisonment for life. It +is a small homeopathic pilule, with no serious after effects. If any +man send or accept a challenge, let the corporal take him before the +guard house, and there give him, in broad daylight, twelve strokes +with a stick _a la Chinoise_; a non-commissioned officer or a private +to receive six. If a duel has actually taken place, the usual criminal +proceedings should be instituted. + +A person with knightly notions might, perhaps, object that, if such +a punishment were carried out, a man of honor would possibly shoot +himself; to which I should answer that it is better for a fool like +that to shoot himself rather than other people. However, I know very +well that governments are not really in earnest about putting down +dueling. Civil officials, and much more so, officers in the army, +(except those in the highest positions), are paid most inadequately +for the services they perform; and the deficiency is made up by honor, +which is represented by titles and orders, and, in general, by the +system of rank and distinction. The duel is, so to speak, a very +serviceable extra-horse for people of rank: so they are trained in the +knowledge of it at the universities. The accidents which happen to +those who use it make up in blood for the deficiency of the pay. + +Just to complete the discussion, let me here mention the subject +of _national honor_. It is the honor of a nation as a unit in the +aggregate of nations. And as there is no court to appeal to but the +court of force; and as every nation must be prepared to defend its own +interests, the honor of a nation consists in establishing the opinion, +not only that it may be trusted (its credit), but also that it is to +be feared. An attack upon its rights must never be allowed to pass +unheeded. It is a combination of civic and knightly honor. + + +_Section 5.--Fame_. + + +Under the heading of place in the estimation of the world we have put +_Fame_; and this we must now proceed to consider. + +Fame and honor are twins; and twins, too, like Castor and Pollux, of +whom the one was mortal and the other was not. Fame is the undying +brother of ephemeral honor. I speak, of course, of the highest kind of +fame, that is, of fame in the true and genuine sense of the word; for, +to be sure, there are many sorts of fame, some of which last but a +day. Honor is concerned merely with such qualities as everyone may be +expected to show under similar circumstances; fame only of those which +cannot be required of any man. Honor is of qualities which everyone +has a right to attribute to himself; fame only of those which should +be left to others to attribute. Whilst our honor extends as far as +people have knowledge of us; fame runs in advance, and makes us known +wherever it finds its way. Everyone can make a claim to honor; very +few to fame, as being attainable only in virtue of extraordinary +achievements. + +These achievements may be of two kinds, either _actions_ or _works_; +and so to fame there are two paths open. On the path of actions, a +great heart is the chief recommendation; on that of works, a great +head. Each of the two paths has its own peculiar advantages and +detriments; and the chief difference between them is that actions are +fleeting, while works remain. The influence of an action, be it never +so noble, can last but a short time; but a work of genius is a living +influence, beneficial and ennobling throughout the ages. All that can +remain of actions is a memory, and that becomes weak and disfigured by +time--a matter of indifference to us, until at last it is extinguished +altogether; unless, indeed, history takes it up, and presents it, +fossilized, to posterity. Works are immortal in themselves, and once +committed to writing, may live for ever. Of Alexander the Great we +have but the name and the record; but Plato and Aristotle, Homer and +Horace are alive, and as directly at work to-day as they were in their +own lifetime. The _Vedas_, and their _Upanishads_, are still with us: +but of all contemporaneous actions not a trace has come down to us.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Accordingly it is a poor compliment, though sometimes +a fashionable one, to try to pay honor to a work by calling it an +action. For a work is something essentially higher in its nature. +An action is always something based on motive, and, therefore, +fragmentary and fleeting--a part, in fact, of that Will which is the +universal and original element in the constitution of the world. But +a great and beautiful work has a permanent character, as being of +universal significance, and sprung from the Intellect, which rises, +like a perfume, above the faults and follies of the world of Will. + +The fame of a great action has this advantage, that it generally +starts with a loud explosion; so loud, indeed, as to be heard all over +Europe: whereas the fame of a great work is slow and gradual in its +beginnings; the noise it makes is at first slight, but it goes on +growing greater, until at last, after a hundred years perhaps, it +attains its full force; but then it remains, because the works +remain, for thousands of years. But in the other case, when the first +explosion is over, the noise it makes grows less and less, and is +heard by fewer and fewer persons; until it ends by the action having +only a shadowy existence in the pages of history.] + +Another disadvantage under which actions labor is that they depend +upon chance for the possibility of coming into existence; and hence, +the fame they win does not flow entirely from their intrinsic value, +but also from the circumstances which happened to lend them importance +and lustre. Again, the fame of actions, if, as in war, they are purely +personal, depends upon the testimony of fewer witnesses; and these +are not always present, and even if present, are not always just or +unbiased observers. This disadvantage, however, is counterbalanced +by the fact that actions have the advantage of being of a practical +character, and, therefore, within the range of general human +intelligence; so that once the facts have been correctly reported, +justice is immediately done; unless, indeed, the motive underlying the +action is not at first properly understood or appreciated. No action +can be really understood apart from the motive which prompted it. + +It is just the contrary with works. Their inception does not depend +upon chance, but wholly and entirely upon their author; and whoever +they are in and for themselves, that they remain as long as they live. +Further, there is a difficulty in properly judging them, which becomes +all the harder, the higher their character; often there are no persons +competent to understand the work, and often no unbiased or honest +critics. Their fame, however, does not depend upon one judge only; +they can enter an appeal to another. In the case of actions, as I have +said, it is only their memory which comes down to posterity, and then +only in the traditional form; but works are handed down themselves, +and, except when parts of them have been lost, in the form in +which they first appeared. In this case there is no room for any +disfigurement of the facts; and any circumstance which may have +prejudiced them in their origin, fall away with the lapse of time. +Nay, it is often only after the lapse of time that the persons really +competent to judge them appear--exceptional critics sitting in +judgment on exceptional works, and giving their weighty verdicts in +succession. These collectively form a perfectly just appreciation; and +though there are cases where it has taken some hundreds of years to +form it, no further lapse of time is able to reverse the verdict;--so +secure and inevitable is the fame of a great work. + +Whether authors ever live to see the dawn of their fame depends upon +the chance of circumstance; and the higher and more important their +works are, the less likelihood there is of their doing so. That was +an incomparable fine saying of Seneca's, that fame follows merit as +surely as the body casts a shadow; sometimes falling in front, and +sometimes behind. And he goes on to remark that _though the envy of +contemporaries be shown by universal silence, there will come those +who will judge without enmity or favor_. From this remark it is +manifest that even in Seneca's age there were rascals who understood +the art of suppressing merit by maliciously ignoring its existence, +and of concealing good work from the public in order to favor the bad: +it is an art well understood in our day, too, manifesting itself, both +then and now, in _an envious conspiracy of silence_. + +As a general rule, the longer a man's fame is likely to last, the +later it will be in coming; for all excellent products require time +for their development. The fame which lasts to posterity is like an +oak, of very slow growth; and that which endures but a little while, +like plants which spring up in a year and then die; whilst false fame +is like a fungus, shooting up in a night and perishing as soon. + +And why? For this reason; the more a man belongs to posterity, in +other words, to humanity in general, the more of an alien he is to his +contemporaries; since his work is not meant for them as such, but only +for them in so far as they form part of mankind at large; there is +none of that familiar local color about his productions which would +appeal to them; and so what he does, fails of recognition because it +is strange. + +People are more likely to appreciate the man who serves the +circumstances of his own brief hour, or the temper of the +moment,--belonging to it, living and dying with it. + +The general history of art and literature shows that the highest +achievements of the human mind are, as a rule, not favorably received +at first; but remain in obscurity until they win notice from +intelligence of a high order, by whose influence they are brought into +a position which they then maintain, in virtue of the authority thus +given them. + +If the reason of this should be asked, it will be found that +ultimately, a man can really understand and appreciate those things +only which are of like nature with himself. The dull person will like +what is dull, and the common person what is common; a man whose ideas +are mixed will be attracted by confusion of thought; and folly will +appeal to him who has no brains at all; but best of all, a man will +like his own works, as being of a character thoroughly at one with +himself. This is a truth as old as Epicharmus of fabulous memory-- + + [Greek: Thaumaston ouden esti me tauth outo legein + Kal andanein autoisin autous kal dokein + Kalos pethukenai kal gar ho kuon kuni + Kalloton eimen phainetai koi bous boi + Onos dono kalliston [estin], us dut.] + +The sense of this passage--for it should not be lost--is that we +should not be surprised if people are pleased with themselves, and +fancy that they are in good case; for to a dog the best thing in the +world is a dog; to an ox, an ox; to an ass, an ass; and to a sow, a +sow. + +The strongest arm is unavailing to give impetus to a featherweight; +for, instead of speeding on its way and hitting its mark with effect, +it will soon fall to the ground, having expended what little energy +was given to it, and possessing no mass of its own to be the vehicle +of momentum. So it is with great and noble thoughts, nay, with the +very masterpieces of genius, when there are none but little, weak, and +perverse minds to appreciate them,--a fact which has been deplored +by a chorus of the wise in all ages. Jesus, the son of Sirach, for +instance, declares that _He that telleth a tale to a fool speaketh to +one in slumber: when he hath told his tale, he will say, What is the +matter_?[1] And Hamlet says, _A knavish speech sleeps in a fool's +ear_.[2] And Goethe is of the same opinion, that a dull ear mocks at +the wisest word, + + _Das gluecktichste Wort es wird verhoehnt, + Wenn der Hoerer ein Schiefohr ist_: + +and again, that we should not be discouraged if people are stupid, for +you can make no rings if you throw your stone into a marsh. + + _Du iwirkest nicht, Alles bleibt so stumpf: + Sei guter Dinge! + Der Stein in Sumpf + Macht keine Ringe_. + +[Footnote 1: Ecclesiasticus, xxii., 8.] + +[Footnote 2: Act iv., Sc. 2.] + +Lichtenberg asks: _When a head and a book come into collision, and one +sounds hollow, is it always the book_? And in another place: _Works +like this are as a mirror; if an ass looks in, you cannot expect an +apostle to look out_. We should do well to remember old Gellert's +fine and touching lament, that the best gifts of all find the fewest +admirers, and that most men mistake the bad for the good,--a daily +evil that nothing can prevent, like a plague which no remedy can cure. +There is but one thing to be done, though how difficult!--the foolish +must become wise,--and that they can never be. The value of life they +never know; they see with the outer eye but never with the mind, and +praise the trivial because the good is strange to them:-- + + _Nie kennen sie den Werth der Dinge, + Ihr Auge schliesst, nicht ihr Verstand; + Sie loben ewig das Geringe + Weil sie das Gute nie gekannt_. + +To the intellectual incapacity which, as Goethe says, fails to +recognize and appreciate the good which exists, must be added +something which comes into play everywhere, the moral baseness of +mankind, here taking the form of envy. The new fame that a man wins +raises him afresh over the heads of his fellows, who are thus degraded +in proportion. All conspicuous merit is obtained at the cost of those +who possess none; or, as Goethe has it in the _Westoestlicher Divan_, +another's praise is one's own depreciation-- + + _Wenn wir Andern Ehre geben + Muessen wir uns selbst entadeln_. + +We see, then, how it is that, whatever be the form which excellence +takes, mediocrity, the common lot of by far the greatest number, is +leagued against it in a conspiracy to resist, and if possible, to +suppress it. The pass-word of this league is _a bas le merite_. Nay +more; those who have done something themselves, and enjoy a certain +amount of fame, do not care about the appearance of a new reputation, +because its success is apt to throw theirs into the shade. Hence, +Goethe declares that if we had to depend for our life upon the favor +of others, we should never have lived at all; from their desire +to appear important themselves, people gladly ignore our very +existence:-- + + _Haette ich gezaudert zu werden, + Bis man mir's Leben geoegnut, + Ich waere noch nicht auf Erden, + Wie ihr begreifen koennt, + Wenn ihr seht, wie sie sich geberden, + Die, um etwas zu scheinen, + Mich gerne mochten verneinen_. + +Honor, on the contrary, generally meets with fair appreciation, and is +not exposed to the onslaught of envy; nay, every man is credited with +the possession of it until the contrary is proved. But fame has to be +won in despite of envy, and the tribunal which awards the laurel is +composed of judges biased against the applicant from the very first. +Honor is something which we are able and ready to share with everyone; +fame suffers encroachment and is rendered more unattainable in +proportion as more people come by it. Further, the difficulty of +winning fame by any given work stands in reverse ratio to the number +of people who are likely to read it; and hence it is so much harder +to become famous as the author of a learned work than as a writer +who aspires only to amuse. It is hardest of all in the case of +philosophical works, because the result at which they aim is rather +vague, and, at the same time, useless from a material point of view; +they appeal chiefly to readers who are working on the same lines +themselves. + +It is clear, then, from what I have said as to the difficulty of +winning fame, that those who labor, not out of love for their subject, +nor from pleasure in pursuing it, but under the stimulus of ambition, +rarely or never leave mankind a legacy of immortal works. The man who +seeks to do what is good and genuine, must avoid what is bad, and be +ready to defy the opinions of the mob, nay, even to despise it and its +misleaders. Hence the truth of the remark, (especially insisted upon +by Osorius _de Gloria_), that fame shuns those who seek it, and seeks +those who shun it; for the one adapt themselves to the taste of their +contemporaries, and the others work in defiance of it. + +But, difficult though it be to acquire fame, it is an easy thing to +keep when once acquired. Here, again, fame is in direct opposition to +honor, with which everyone is presumably to be accredited. Honor +has not to be won; it must only not be lost. But there lies the +difficulty! For by a single unworthy action, it is gone irretrievably. +But fame, in the proper sense of the word, can never disappear; for +the action or work by which it was acquired can never be undone; and +fame attaches to its author, even though he does nothing to deserve it +anew. The fame which vanishes, or is outlived, proves itself thereby +to be spurious, in other words, unmerited, and due to a momentary +overestimate of a man's work; not to speak of the kind of fame which +Hegel enjoyed, and which Lichtenberg describes as _trumpeted forth by +a clique of admiring undergraduates_--_the resounding echo of empty +heads_;--_such a fame as will make posterity smile when it lights upon +a grotesque architecture of words, a fine nest with the birds long +ago flown; it will knock at the door of this decayed structure of +conventionalities and find it utterly empty_!--_not even a trace of +thought there to invite the passer-by_. + +The truth is that fame means nothing but what a man is in comparison +with others. It is essentially relative in character, and therefore +only indirectly valuable; for it vanishes the moment other people +become what the famous man is. Absolute value can be predicated only +of what a man possesses under any and all circumstances,--here, what a +man is directly and in himself. It is the possession of a great heart +or a great head, and not the mere fame of it, which is worth having, +and conducive to happiness. Not fame, but that which deserves to be +famous, is what a man should hold in esteem. This is, as it were, the +true underlying substance, and fame is only an accident, affecting its +subject chiefly as a kind of external symptom, which serves to confirm +his own opinion of himself. Light is not visible unless it meets with +something to reflect it; and talent is sure of itself only when its +fame is noised abroad. But fame is not a certain symptom of merit; +because you can have the one without the other; or, as Lessing nicely +puts it, _Some people obtain fame, and others deserve it_. + +It would be a miserable existence which should make its value or want +of value depend upon what other people think; but such would be the +life of a hero or a genius if its worth consisted in fame, that is, +in the applause of the world. Every man lives and exists on his own +account, and, therefore, mainly in and for himself; and what he is and +the whole manner of his being concern himself more than anyone else; +so if he is not worth much in this respect, he cannot be worth much +otherwise. The idea which other people form of his existence is +something secondary, derivative, exposed to all the chances of fate, +and in the end affecting him but very indirectly. Besides, other +people's heads are a wretched place to be the home of a man's true +happiness--a fanciful happiness perhaps, but not a real one. + +And what a mixed company inhabits the Temple of Universal +Fame!--generals, ministers, charlatans, jugglers, dancers, singers, +millionaires and Jews! It is a temple in which more sincere +recognition, more genuine esteem, is given to the several excellencies +of such folk, than to superiority of mind, even of a high order, which +obtains from the great majority only a verbal acknowledgment. + +From the point of view of human happiness, fame is, surely, nothing +but a very rare and delicate morsel for the appetite that feeds on +pride and vanity--an appetite which, however carefully concealed, +exists to an immoderate degree in every man, and is, perhaps strongest +of all in those who set their hearts on becoming famous at any cost. +Such people generally have to wait some time in uncertainty as to +their own value, before the opportunity comes which will put it to the +proof and let other people see what they are made of; but until then, +they feel as if they were suffering secret injustice.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Our greatest pleasure consists in being admired; but +those who admire us, even if they have every reason to do so, are slow +to express their sentiments. Hence he is the happiest man who, no +matter how, manages sincerely to admire himself--so long as other +people leave him alone.] + +But, as I explained at the beginning of this chapter, an +unreasonable value is set upon other people's opinion, and one quite +disproportionate to its real worth. Hobbes has some strong remarks on +this subject; and no doubt he is quite right. _Mental pleasure_, he +writes, _and ecstacy of any kind, arise when, on comparing ourselves +with others, we come to the conclusion that we may think well of +ourselves_. So we can easily understand the great value which is +always attached to fame, as worth any sacrifices if there is the +slightest hope of attaining it. + + _Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise_ + _(That hath infirmity of noble mind)_ + _To scorn delights and live laborious days_[1] + +And again: + + _How hard it is to climb + The heights where Fame's proud temple shines afar_! + +[Footnote 1: Milton. _Lycidas_.] + +We can thus understand how it is that the vainest people in the world +are always talking about _la gloire_, with the most implicit faith in +it as a stimulus to great actions and great works. But there can he no +doubt that fame is something secondary in its character, a mere echo +or reflection--as it were, a shadow or symptom--of merit: and, in +any case, what excites admiration must be of more value than the +admiration itself. The truth is that a man is made happy, not by fame, +but by that which brings him fame, by his merits, or to speak more +correctly, by the disposition and capacity from which his merits +proceed, whether they be moral or intellectual. The best side of a +man's nature must of necessity be more important for him than for +anyone else: the reflection of it, the opinion which exists in the +heads of others, is a matter that can affect him only in a very +subordinate degree. He who deserves fame without getting it possesses +by far the more important element of happiness, which should console +him for the loss of the other. It is not that a man is thought to be +great by masses of incompetent and often infatuated people, but that +he really is great, which should move us to envy his position; and his +happiness lies, not in the fact that posterity will hear of him, but +that he is the creator of thoughts worthy to be treasured up and +studied for hundreds of years. + +Besides, if a man has done this, he possesses something which cannot +be wrested from him; and, unlike fame, it is a possession dependent +entirely upon himself. If admiration were his chief aim, there would +be nothing in him to admire. This is just what happens in the case +of false, that is, unmerited, fame; for its recipient lives upon it +without actually possessing the solid substratum of which fame is the +outward and visible sign. False fame must often put its possessor out +of conceit with himself; for the time may come when, in spite of the +illusions borne of self-love, he will feel giddy on the heights which +he was never meant to climb, or look upon himself as spurious +coin; and in the anguish of threatened discovery and well-merited +degradation, he will read the sentence of posterity on the foreheads +of the wise--like a man who owes his property to a forged will. + +The truest fame, the fame that comes after death, is never heard of by +its recipient; and yet he is called a happy man. + +His happiness lay both in the possession of those great qualities +which won him fame, and in the opportunity that was granted him of +developing them--the leisure he had to act as he pleased, to dedicate +himself to his favorite pursuits. It is only work done from the heart +that ever gains the laurel. + +Greatness of soul, or wealth of intellect, is what makes a man +happy--intellect, such as, when stamped on its productions, will +receive the admiration of centuries to come,--thoughts which make him +happy at the time, and will in their turn be a source of study and +delight to the noblest minds of the most remote posterity. The value +of posthumous fame lies in deserving it; and this is its own reward. +Whether works destined to fame attain it in the lifetime of their +author is a chance affair, of no very great importance. For the +average man has no critical power of his own, and is absolutely +incapable of appreciating the difficulty of a great work. People are +always swayed by authority; and where fame is widespread, it means +that ninety-nine out of a hundred take it on faith alone. If a man is +famed far and wide in his own lifetime, he will, if he is wise, not +set too much value upon it, because it is no more than the echo of a +few voices, which the chance of a day has touched in his favor. + +Would a musician feel flattered by the loud applause of an audience +if he knew that they were nearly all deaf, and that, to conceal their +infirmity, they set to work to clap vigorously as soon as ever they +saw one or two persons applauding? And what would he say if he got to +know that those one or two persons had often taken bribes to secure +the loudest applause for the poorest player! + +It is easy to see why contemporary praise so seldom develops into +posthumous fame. D'Alembert, in an extremely fine description of the +temple of literary fame, remarks that the sanctuary of the temple is +inhabited by the great dead, who during their life had no place there, +and by a very few living persons, who are nearly all ejected on their +death. Let me remark, in passing, that to erect a monument to a man +in his lifetime is as much as declaring that posterity is not to be +trusted in its judgment of him. If a man does happen to see his own +true fame, it can very rarely be before he is old, though there have +been artists and musicians who have been exceptions to this rule, but +very few philosophers. This is confirmed by the portraits of people +celebrated by their works; for most of them are taken only after their +subjects have attained celebrity, generally depicting them as old and +grey; more especially if philosophy has been the work of their lives. +From the eudaemonistic standpoint, this is a very proper arrangement; +as fame and youth are too much for a mortal at one and the same time. +Life is such a poor business that the strictest economy must be +exercised in its good things. Youth has enough and to spare in itself, +and must rest content with what it has. But when the delights and joys +of life fall away in old age, as the leaves from a tree in autumn, +fame buds forth opportunely, like a plant that is green in winter. +Fame is, as it were, the fruit that must grow all the summer before it +can be enjoyed at Yule. There is no greater consolation in age than +the feeling of having put the whole force of one's youth into works +which still remain young. + +Finally, let us examine a little more closely the kinds of fame which +attach to various intellectual pursuits; for it is with fame of this +sort that my remarks are more immediately concerned. + +I think it may be said broadly that the intellectual superiority it +denotes consists in forming theories, that is, new combinations of +certain facts. These facts may be of very different kinds; but +the better they are known, and the more they come within everyday +experience, the greater and wider will be the fame which is to be won +by theorizing about them. + +For instance, if the facts in question are numbers or lines or special +branches of science, such as physics, zoology, botany, anatomy, or +corrupt passages in ancient authors, or undecipherable inscriptions, +written, it may be, in some unknown alphabet, or obscure points +in history; the kind of fame that may be obtained by correctly +manipulating such facts will not extend much beyond those who make a +study of them--a small number of persons, most of whom live retired +lives and are envious of others who become famous in their special +branch of knowledge. + +But if the facts be such as are known to everyone, for example, the +fundamental characteristics of the human mind or the human heart, +which are shared by all alike; or the great physical agencies which +are constantly in operation before our eyes, or the general course of +natural laws; the kind of fame which is to be won by spreading the +light of a new and manifestly true theory in regard to them, is such +as in time will extend almost all over the civilized world: for if the +facts be such as everyone can grasp, the theory also will be generally +intelligible. But the extent of the fame will depend upon the +difficulties overcome; and the more generally known the facts are, the +harder it will be to form a theory that shall be both new and true: +because a great many heads will have been occupied with them, and +there will be little or no possibility of saying anything that has not +been said before. + +On the other hand, facts which are not accessible to everybody, and +can be got at only after much difficulty and labor, nearly +always admit of new combinations and theories; so that, if sound +understanding and judgment are brought to bear upon them--qualities +which do not involve very high intellectual power--a man may easily be +so fortunate as to light upon some new theory in regard to them which +shall be also true. But fame won on such paths does not extend much +beyond those who possess a knowledge of the facts in question. To +solve problems of this sort requires, no doubt, a great ideal of study +and labor, if only to get at the facts; whilst on the path where the +greatest and most widespread fame is to be won, the facts may be +grasped without any labor at all. But just in proportion as less labor +is necessary, more talent or genius is required; and between such +qualities and the drudgery of research no comparison is possible, in +respect either of their intrinsic value, or of the estimation in which +they are held. + +And so people who feel that they possess solid intellectual capacity +and a sound judgment, and yet cannot claim the highest mental powers, +should not be afraid of laborious study; for by its aid they may +work themselves above the great mob of humanity who have the facts +constantly before their eyes, and reach those secluded spots which are +accessible to learned toil. + +For this is a sphere where there are infinitely fewer rivals, and +a man of only moderate capacity may soon find an opportunity of +proclaiming a theory which shall be both new and true; nay, the merit +of his discovery will partly rest upon the difficulty of coming at +the facts. But applause from one's fellow-students, who are the only +persons with a knowledge of the subject, sounds very faint to the +far-off multitude. And if we follow up this sort of fame far enough, +we shall at last come to a point where facts very difficult to get at +are in themselves sufficient to lay a foundation of fame, without any +necessity for forming a theory;--travels, for instance, in remote and +little-known countries, which make a man famous by what he has seen, +not by what he has thought. The great advantage of this kind of fame +is that to relate what one has seen, is much easier than to impart +one's thoughts, and people are apt to understand descriptions better +than ideas, reading the one more readily than the other: for, as Asmus +says, + + _When one goes forth a-voyaging + He has a tale to tell_. + +And yet for all that, a personal acquaintance with celebrated +travelers often remind us of a line from Horace--new scenes do not +always mean new ideas-- + + _Caelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt_.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Epist. I. II.] + +But if a man finds himself in possession of great mental faculties, +such as alone should venture on the solution of the hardest of all +problems--those which concern nature as a whole and humanity in its +widest range, he will do well to extend his view equally in all +directions, without ever straying too far amid the intricacies of +various by-paths, or invading regions little known; in other words, +without occupying himself with special branches of knowledge, to say +nothing of their petty details. There is no necessity for him to +seek out subjects difficult of access, in order to escape a crowd of +rivals; the common objects of life will give him material for new +theories at once serious and true; and the service he renders will be +appreciated by all those--and they form a great part of mankind--who +know the facts of which he treats. What a vast distinction there is +between students of physics, chemistry, anatomy, mineralogy, zoology, +philology, history, and the men who deal with the great facts of human +life, the poet and the philosopher! + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Essays Of Arthur Schopenhauer: +The Wisdom of Life, by Arthur Schopenhauer + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAYS OF SCHOPENHAUER *** + +***** This file should be named 10741.txt or 10741.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/7/4/10741/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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