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