The Essays Of Arthur Schopenhauer: The Wisdom of Life - Arthur Schopenhauer
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.