Counsels and Maxims From The Essays Of Arthur Schopenhauer

; or at any rate, he may not keep it constantly in mind. So it is with man: in working th

d the maxim [Greek: Gnothi seauton]; he must have made some little progress in the art of understanding himself. He must know what is his real, chief, and foremost object in life,-what it is that he most wants in order to be happy; and then, after that, what occupies the second and third place in his thoughts; he must find

we have achieved, what work we have done. It is only then that we see the precise chain of cause and effect, and the exact value of all our efforts. For as long as we are actually engaged in the work of life, we always act in accordance with the nature of our character, under the influence of motive, and

oment. It is only when we come to view our life as a connected whole that our character and capacities show themselves in their true light; that we see how, in particular instances, some happy inspiration, as it were, led us to choose the only tru

ever anxious and full of care. It is seldom that a man holds the right balance between the two extremes. Those who strive and hope and live only in the future, always looking ahead and impatiently anticipating what is coming, as something which will make them happy when they get it, are, in spite of their very clever airs, exactly li

ance, which makes objects look small to the outward eye, makes them look big to the eye of thought. The present alone is true and actual; it is the only time which possesses full reality, and our existence lies in it exclusively. Therefore we should always be glad of it, and give it the welcome it deserves, and enjoy every hour that is bearable by its freedom from pain and annoyance with a full consciousness of its value. We shall hardly be able to do

n protuchthai easo

essi philon damas

t which lies beyond our pow

men tauta theon en

1: Iliad

2: Ibid,

ch day as if it were our whole life,-singulas dies singulas vitas puta: l

able. Even in the case of evils which are sure to happen, the time at which they will happen is uncertain. A man who is always preparing for either class of evil will not have a moment of peace left him. So, if we are not to lose all comf

istence, that he is able to attain that peace of mind which is the foundation of human happiness. Peace of mind! that is something essential to any enjoyment of the present moment; and unless its separate moments are enjoyed, there is an end of life's happiness as a whole. We should always collect that To-day comes only once, and never returns

live through our days of happiness without noticing them; it is only when evil comes upon us that we wish them back. A thousand gay and pleasant hours are wasted in ill-humor; we let them slip by unenjoyed, and sigh for them in vain when the sky is overcast. Those present moments that are bearable, be they never so trite and common,-passed by in indifference, or, it m

d and circumscribed. We are more likely to feel worried and anxious if these limits are wide; for it means that our cares, desires and terrors are increased and intensified

contact with the world become more extended. In childhood our horizon is limited to the narrowest sphere about us; in youth there is already a very considerable widening of our view; i

nd of limitation is attended by the disadvantage that it opens the door to boredom, which is a direct source of countless sufferings; for to banish boredom, a man will have recourse to any means that may be handy-dissipation, society, extravagance, gaming, and drinking, and the like, which in their turn bring mischief, ruin and misery in their train. Difficiles in otio quies-it is difficult to keep quiet if you have nothing to do. That limitati

ed, will contribute to happiness; just because, under such circumstances, life, and consequently the burden which is the essential

lternations of success and failure, and all the shocks and torments it produces. But it must be confessed that for such occupation a pre-eminent amount of intellectual capacity is necessary. And in this connection it may be noted that, just as a life devoted to outward activity will distract and divert a man from study, and also deprive him

k,-to make a kind of recapitulation of what we have done, of our impressions and sensations, to compare our former with our present judgments-what we set before us and struggle

llectual knowledge, and very little experience, the result is like those books which have on each page two lines of text to forty lines of commentary. A great deal o

ssics published at Zweibr?cken in the Palatinate, from and after the ye

it were, pulling cotton off the reel of life,-is to have no clear idea of what we are about; and a man who lives in this state will have chaos in his emotions and certain confusion in his thoughts; as is soon manifest by the abrupt and fragmentary character of his c

he particular mood or state of feeling which they aroused in us: but we can remember what we were led to say and do in regard to them; and thus form, as it were, the result, expression an

ly the chief qualification for happiness. Hence Aristotle's remark, [Greek: hae eudaimonia ton autarchon esti][1]-to be happy means to be s

st très difficile de le trouver en nou

Eudem. Eth.

the burdens and disadvantages, the dangers and annoyances, which arise

sform our miserable existence into a succession of joys, delights and pleasures,-a process which cannot fail to result

s. The veil is always there, and it is only through it that we can sometimes guess at what

e will not love freedom; for it is only when he is alone that he is really free. Constraint is always present in society, like a companion of whom there is no riddance; and in proportion to the greatness of a man's individuality, it will be hard for him to bear the sacrifices which all interco

dings do not interfere with this feeling; for if he has to see a great deal of other people who are not of like character with himself, they will exercis

erences in their stead,-gradations of rank and position, which are very often diametrically opposed to those which Nature establishes. The result of this arrangement is to elevate those

wer. So-called good society recognizes every kind of claim but that of intellect, which is a contraband article; and people are expected to exhibit an unlimited amount of patience towards every form of folly and stupidi

downright abhorrent to ordinary people, to please whom it is absolutely necessary to be commonplace and dull. This demands an act of severe self-denial; we have to forfeit three-fourths of ourselves in order to become like other people. No doubt their company may be set down against our loss in this respect; but the more a man is worth, the more he will find that what he gains does not cover what he loses, and t

e kind of superiority, conventional in its character, and resting upon arbitrary principles,-a tradition, as it were, handed down in the higher circles, and, like a password, subject to alteration;

ugh it may be a very slight one. That genuine, profound peace of mind, that perfect tranquillity of soul, which, next to health, is the highest blessing the earth can give, is to be attained only in soli

e relations whether of business or of personal intimacy, the better off you are. Loneliness and solitude have their evils, it is true; but if you cannot feel them all at once, you can at least see where they lie; on the other hand, society is insidious i

ersonal value is in itself great riches, from such considerable sacrifices as are demanded by intercourse with the world, let alone, then, from actually practicing self-denial by going out of their way to seek it. Ordinary people are sociable and complaisant just from the very opposite feeling;-to bear others' company is easier for them than to bear their own. Moreover, respect is not paid in this world to that which has real merit; it is re

Paradoxa St

it some,-by drink, for instance. How much drunkenness is due to this cause alone! They are always looking for some form of excitement, of the strongest kind they can bear-the excitement of being with people of like nature with themselves; and if they fail in this, their mind sinks by its own weight, and they fall into a grievous lethargy.[1] Su

of solitude; it is not alone the charm of being in others' company that people seek, it is the dreary oppression of being alone-the monotony of their own consciousness-that they would avoid. They will do anything to escape it,-even tolerate bad companions, and put up with the feeling of constraint which all society involves, in this case a very burdensome one. But if aversion to such society c

horn, you have a precise illustration of the effect of most people's minds. How often there seems to be only one thought there! and no room for any other. It is easy to see why people are so bored; and also why they are sociable, why they like to go about in crowds-

has no place in a symphony: he is a soloist and performs by himself,-in solitude, it may be; or, if in company with other instruments, only as principal; or for setting the tone, as in singing. However, those who are fond of society from time to time may profit by this simile, and lay it down as a general rule that deficiency of quality in those we meet may

of humanity comes crowding in too, as it always does everywhere, like vermin-their object being to try and get rid of boredom, or some other defect of their nature; and anything that will effect that, they seize upon at once, without the sli

act with others. But a man who has a great deal of intellectual warmth in himself will stand in no need of such resources. I have written a little fable illustrating this: it may be found elsewhere.[1] As a general ru

rns of huddling and dispersing, they discovered that they would be best off by remaining at a little distance from one another. In the same way, the need of society drives the human porcupines together-only to be mutually repelled by the many prickly and disagreeable qualities of their nature. The moderate distance which they at last discover to be the only tolerable condition of inter

people; and that destroys the peace of mind, which, as I have said, comes next after health in the elements of happiness. Peace of mind is impossible without a considerable amount of solitude. The Cynics renounced all private property in order to attain the bliss of having nothing to trouble them; and to renounce society with the same object is the wisest thing a man can do. Bernardin de Saint Pierre has the very excellent and pertinent remark that to be sparing in regard to food is a means of health; in regard to society, a means of tranquillity-la diète des ailmens nous rend la santé du corps, et celle des hommes la tranquillité de l'ame. To be soon on friendly, or even affectionate, terms with solitude is like winning a gold mine; but

th parents, brothers, sisters, that is to say, in society, and not alone. Accordingly it cannot be said that the love of solitude is an original characteristic of huma

is only the few among them of any nobility of mind who are glad now and then to be alone;-but to spend the whole day thus would be disagreeable. A grown-up man can easily do it; it is little trouble to him to be much alone, and it becomes less and less trouble as he advances in ye

of it all is that, in the individual, moral and intellectual shortcomings are closely connected and play into each other's hands, so that all manner of disagreeable results are obtained, which make intercourse with most people not only unpleasant but intolerable. Hence, though the world contains many things which are thoroughly bad, the worst thing in it is society. Even Voltaire, that sociable Frenchman, was oblig

sempre so

nno, e le camp

est' ingegni

del ciel' ha

nd indirect character of the love of seclusion to which Chamfort alludes in the following passage, couched in his sarcastic vein: On dit quelquefois d'un homme qui vit seul, il n'

seclusion; for there is safety in solitude. Angelus Silesius,[1] a very gentle and Christian writer, confesses to the same feeling, in his own mythical language. Herod, he s

Feind; der Jos

e Gefahr im Traum

ethlehem, Aegy

e! fleuch, sonst s

pseudonym for Johannes Scheffler, a physician and

voluto gustare vita celeste, dissero con una voce, "ecce elongavi fugiens et mansi in solitudine"-thos

r far off; I would lod

1: Psalm

m Prometheus has formed out of better clay. What pleasure could they find in the company of people with whom their only common ground is just what is lowest and least noble in their own nature-the part of them that is commonplace, trivial and vulgar? Wh

course of time, comes to see that, with few exceptions, the world offers no choice beyond solitude on one side and vulgarity on the other. This may sound a hard thing to say; but even Angelus Silesius, wi

ei nur nicht gemein, So kannst

the haven of truth-to draw it forth from the dark abysses of a barbarous vulgarity up into the light of culture and refinement. Men of great intellect live in the world without really belonging to it; and so, from their earliest years, they feel that there is a perceptible difference between them and othe

t is the more distinguishing feature of nobler minds, developed not without some conquest of natural desires, and now and then in actual opposition to the promptings of M

deinem Gram

Geier, dir am

e Gesellschaft

ensch mit Men

ethe's Faust, P

entially outside its sphere of activity. And then the years pass more quickly as we become older, and we want to devote our remaining time to the intellectual rather than to the practical side of life. For, provided that the mind retains its faculties, the amount of knowledge and experience we have acquired, together with the facility we have gained in the use of our powers, makes it then more than ever easy and interesting to us to pursue the study of any subject. A thousand things become clear which were formerly enveloped in obscurity, and results are obtained which give a feeling of difficulties overcome. From long experience of men, we cease to expect much from them; we find that, on the whole, people do not gain by a nearer acquaintance; and that-apart from a few rare and fortunate exceptions-we have come across none but defect

of all where there is real mental power; but in some degree by every one. It is only people of very barren and vulgar nature who will be just as sociable in their old age as they wer

tual education, so that mere intercourse with others, at that time of life, carries instruction with it. Human society, from this point of view, resembles a huge academy of learning, on the Bell and Lancaster system, opposed to the system of education by m

society; hence anyone who is worth much in himself will get on better without other people than with them. But amongst the disadvantages of seclusion there is one which is not so easy to see as the rest. It is this: when people remain indoors all day, they become physically very sensitive to atmospheric chan

u think, and, on the other hand, not to attach too precise a meaning to what others say; rather, not to expect much of them, either morally or intellectually, and to strengthen yourself in the feeling of indifference to their opinion, which is the surest way of always practicing a praiseworthy toleration. If you do that, you will not live so much with other people, though you may appear to move amongst them: your relation to

in a play-well worth reading-of Moratin's, entitled El Café o sea la Comedia Nuova (The Cafe or the New Comed

of comparing our own lot with some other and happier one-nostra nos sine comparatione delectent; nunquam erit felix quem torquebit felicior.[2] And again, quum adspexeris quot te antecedent, cogita quot sequantur[3]-if a great many people appear to be better off than yourself, think how many there are

; and their constant attention to what others

2: De Ira:

e 3: Epi

hatred is so implacable as the hatred that comes from envy; and therefore we should always carefully refrain from doing anything to rouse it; nay, as

n comes to be recognized, if it is only allowed time to work. So eminent a king as Frederick the Great admitted it-les ames privilegiées rangent à l'égal des souverains, as he said to his cha

ttered against you; and unless they are restrained by fear, they will always be anxious to let you understand that you are no better

l contact with them, so that there may be a wide gulf fixed between you and them; if this cannot be done, to bear their attacks with the grea

well with those of another, and there is no call for envy betw

reflection that will always influence the negative side of the balance-a kind of warning to refrain from unnecessary action in matters of importance-quieta non movere. But having once made up your mind and begun your work, you must let it run its course and abide the result-not worry yourself by fresh reflections on what is already accomplished, or by a renewal of your

reat many of the maxims which Goethe puts under the h

takes; which argues that the human intellect is incompetent for the purpose. There is a saying-which is reported to have originated with one of the Popes-that when misfortune happens to us, the blame of it, at least in some degree, attaches to ourselves. If this is not true absolutely and in every ins

TIO

istress and make it intolerable, so that you will become a tormentor to yourself-[Greek: heautontimoroumeaeos]. It is better to follow the example of King David; who, as long as his son lay on the bed of sickness, assailed Jehovah with unceasing supplications and entreaties for his

d, and to consider it often in spite of its being a tender subject-a salutary form of self-discipline, which will make us wiser and better men for the future. If we have made obvious mistakes, we should not try, as we generally do, to gloss them over, or to find something to excuse or extenuate them; we should admit to ourselves that we hav

Menander. M

ssible. These, however, are not the sort of playthings in which imagination delights; it is only in idle hours that we build castles in the air, and they are always of a pleasing description. The matter which goes to form gloomy dreams are mischances which to some extent really threaten us, though it be from some distance; imagination makes us look larger and nearer and more terrible than they are in reality. This is a kind of dream which cannot be so readily shaken off on awaking as a pleasant one; for a pleasant dream is soon dispelled by reality, leaving, at most, a feeble hope lying in the lap of possibility. Once we have abandoned ourselves to a fit of the blues, visions are conjured up which do no

wer of judgment quite unequal to its duties; but imagination is still awake. Night gives a black look to everything, whatever it may be. This is why our thoughts, just before we go to sleep, or as we lie awake through the hours of the night, are usually such confusions and perversions of facts as dreams themselves; and when our thoughts at that time are concentrated upon our own concerns, they are generally as black and monstrous as possible. In the morning all such nightmares vanish like dreams: as the Spanish proverb has it, noche tinta, bianco el dia-the night is colored, the day is white. But even towards nightfall, as soon as the candles are lit, the mind, like the eye, no longer sees things so clearly as by day: it is

in general, an important influence upon our mood and therefore upon our thoughts. Hence both our view of any matter and our

mung wahr, Denn sie

te 1: G

ely considering some personal matter at the precise time at which we have determined beforehand to consider it, and just when we set ourselves to do so. For the peculiar train of thought whic

llent parable, Proclus, the Neoplatonist, points out how in every town the mob dwells side by side with those who are rich and distinguished: so, too, in every man, be he never so noble and dignified, there is, in the depth of his nature, a mob of low and vulgar desires which constitute him an animal. It will not do to let this mob revolt or even so much as peep forth from its hiding-place; it is hideous of mien, and its rebel leaders are those flights

things which stand nearest, even though they are of the very smallest consequence, are apt to claim an amount of attention much beyond thei

upon our possessions in the light in which they would appear if we had lost them; whatever they may be, property, health, friends, a wife or child or someone else we love, our horse or our dog-it is usually only when we have lost them that we begin to find out their value. But if we come to look at things in the way I recommend

n the future; a process which leads us to invent a great many chimerical hopes. Every one of them contains t

a marked improvement in our spirits when we begin to get over a period of anxiety? I may go further and say that there is some use in occasionally looking upon terrible misfortunes-such as might happen to us-as though they had actually happened, for then the trivial re

e and all affect us in particular. There must be a corresponding abruptness in the thoughts and anxieties which these various matters arouse in us, if our thoughts are to be in keeping with their various subjects. Therefore, in setting about anything, the first step is to withdraw our attention

r, and attention to some important business may lead us to neglect many affairs which happen to be of less moment. It is most important for everyone who is capable of higher and nobler thoughts to keep their mind from being so complete

may prevent much subsequent compulsion at the hands of others; just as a very small section of a circle close to the centre may correspond to a part near the circumference a hundred times as large. Nothing will protect us from external compulsion so much as the control of ourselves; and, as Seneca says, to submit yourself to reason is the way to make everything else submit to you-si tibi vis omnia subji

one must incur many of the ills of life; in a word, we must bear and forbear-abstinere et sustinere; and if we fail to observe this rule, no position of wealth or power will prevent us from feeling wretched. This is what Horace m

leges et perc

eas traducere

nops agitet ve

rum mediocriter

: Epist. I.

ckles or a stick or anything that comes handy. The truth is, that our nature is essentially restless in its character: we very soon get tired of having nothing to do; it is intolerable boredom. This impulse to activity should be regulated, and some sort of method introduced into it, which of itself will enhance the satisfaction we obtain. Activity!-doing something, if possible creating something, at any rate learning something-how fortunate it is that men cannot exist without t

nterest beyond the mere everyday personal interest which so many others share; and something higher than that-a formal interest. It is from life and the world that they get the material for their works; and as soon as they are freed from the pressure of personal needs, it is to the diligent collection of material that they devote their whole existence. So with their intellect: it is to some ext

s wants satisfied is something intolerable-the feeling of stagnation which comes from pleasures that last too long. To overcome difficulties is to experience the full delight of existence, no matter where the obstacles are encountered; whether in the affairs of life, in commerce or business; or in mental effort-the spirit of inquiry that tries to master its subject. There is always something pleasurable in the struggle and the victory. And if a man has no opportu

life which most people pervert. If you examine closely into the circumstances which, in any deliberation, ultimately turn the scale in favor of some particular course, you will generally find

s to be realized, the picture fades away, leaving us the knowledge that nothing of what it promised is actually accomplished. How often this is so with the visions of domesticity-the detailed picture of what our home will be like; or, of life among our fellow-citizens or in society; or, again, of living in the country-the kind of house we shall have, its surroundings, the marks of honor and respect that will be paid to us, and so on,-whatever our hobby may be; chaque fou a sa marotte. It is often the same, too, with our dreams about one we love. And this is all quite natural; for the visions we

nces at all, which are incomparably more powerful in their effects than the mere play of thought or a train of ideas; not because these momentary impressions are rich in virtue of the data they suppl

leasure, in spite of all our determination to resist it; or so much annoyed by a criticism, even though we know that its author it totally incompetent to judge; or so irritated by an insult, though it comes from some very contemptible quarter. In the same way, to mention no other instances, ten reasons for thinking that th

ze it by some contrary influence; for example, the effect of an insult may be overcome by seeking the society of those who have a goo

a moment ceasing to think of the gallows which would have awaited him, had he revealed his secret

aux Essais. Liv. I

accordingly, even though we are quite sure that they are in the wrong. Take the case of a fugitive king who is trying to avoid capture; how much consolation he must find in the ceremoniou

health as the chief and most important element in happiness. Let me emphasize and c

ituate it to withstand all kinds of noxious influences. But on the appearance of an illness or disorder, either in the body as a whole or in many of its parts, a contrary course

for then the same vital energy which forms thoughts in the brain has a great deal of work to do elsewhere,-I mean in the digestive organs, where it prepares chyme and chyle. For similar reasons, the brain should never be used during, or immediately after, violent muscular exercise. For the motor nerves are in this respect on a par with the sensory nerves; the pain felt when a limb is wounded has its seat in the brain; and, in the same way, it is not really our legs and arms which work and move,-it is the brain, or, more strictly, that part of it which, through the medium of the spine, excites t

eeling of enhanced intellectual vigor. The parts of the brain that come into play have had no time to become tired; and besides, slight muscul

e nature what winding up is to a clock.[1] This measure will vary directly with the development and activity of the brain; to o

als Wille und Vorste

p. 23

day-le sommeil est un emprunt fait à la mort. Or it might be said that sleep is the interest we have to pay on the capital which is call

, which consists in always and unweariedly thinking-has undoubtedly driven many people to foolish practices, leading to a deadening of the intellectual powers; Frederick the Great, even, once tried to form the habit of doing without sleep altogether. It would be well if professors of philosophy refrained from giving currency to a notion which is attended by practical results of a pernicious character; but then this is just what professorial philosophy does, in its old-womanish endeavor to k

s by Cabanis, a French philosopher (1757-1808), treating of mental and moral phenomena on a phy

h, Southey, became intellectually dull and incapable towards the end of their days, nay, soon after passing their sixtieth year; and that their imbecility can be traced to the fact that, at that period of life, they were all led on? by the promise of high pay, to treat literature as

ildhood of his last four years was due to overwork in late

e upon health and bodily condition generally; nay, even upon the