Counsels and Maxims From The Essays Of Arthur Schopenhauer

of life has its own peculiar mental character, and that a man will fe

de son age, De son

ons upon the nature of happiness, if we glance at the c

ing of life we look forward to a long future, and that towards the end we look back upon a long past; also that our temperament,

f lost paradise. In childhood our relations with others are limited, our wants are few,-in a word, there is little stimulus for the will; and so our chief concern is the extension of our knowledge. The intellect-like the brain, which attains its full size in the sev

. c, 31, p. 451 (4th edit.), where he explains that this is due to the fact that at that period o

more slowly between the sixteenth and the twentieth year, still more slowly till between thirty and forty years of age, when it attai

her words, to apprehend a particular object in such a way as to perceive its essential nature, the characteristics it has in common with all other ob

. In those early years, life-in the full meaning of the word, is something so new and fresh, and its sensations are so keen and unblunted by repetition, that, in the midst of all its pursuits and without any clear consciousness of what it is doing, the child is always silently occupied in grasping

e so different from those of old age. And that it also why the slight knowledge and experience gained in childhood and youth afterwards come to stand as the permanent rubric, or heading, for all the knowledge acquired in later l

l view of the world,-essential to the period of childhood and promoted by the as yet undeveloped state of the volitional energy-that, as children, we are concerned much more with the acquisition of pure knowledge than with exercising the power of will. Hence that grave, fixed l

ng into us ideas. But ideas furnish no information as to the real and essential nature of objects, which, as the foundation and true content of all knowledge, can be rea

t the result of external influences; and no educational scheme-of Pestalozzi, or of any one else-can turn a bor

were completely absorbed in our immediate surroundings; there was nothing to distract our attention from them; we looked upon the objects about us as though they were the only ones of their

l a pleasing aspect; but that in the world, considered as subject,-that is, in regard to its inner nature, which is will,-pain and t

II. c. 31, p. 426-7 (4th Edit.), to which the reader

ive side wears a pleasing aspect, and the inner or subjective side, with its tale of horror, remains as yet unknown, the youth, as his intelligence develops, takes all the forms of beauty that he sees, in nature and in art, for so many object

existence-the inner side, the will, which is thwarted at every step. Then comes the great period of disillusion, a period of very gradual growth; but once it has fairly begun, a man will tell yo

in a theatre, as you view it from a distance; and that in old a

ves on the trees are similar in color and much the same in shape; and in the first years of life we all resemble one another

nds in failure and leads to discontent. An illusory image of some vague future bliss-born of a dream and shaped by fancy-floats before our eyes; and we search for the reality in vain. So it is that the young man is generally dissatisfied with the position in which he finds himself, whateve

t the world has a great deal to offer him. But the usual result of education is to strengthen t

o be like an interesting romance; and there lies the germ of that disappointment which I have been describing.[1] What lends a charm to all these visions is just the fact that they are visionary and not real, and that in contemplat

Cf. loc. ci

if he is interested in the subject, to

lear that all happiness is chimerical in its nature, and that pain alone is real. Accordingly, in later years, we, or, at least, the more prudent amongst us, are more intent upon eliminating what is painful from our lives an

feeling in regard to the world of men takes place in all persons of any talent or distinction. For that very reason they cannot be said properly to belong to the world; in a greater or less degree, according to the extent of their superiority, they stand alone. In thei

why is this the case Simply because, in youth, a man fancies that there is a prodigious amount of happiness and pleasure to be had in the world, only that it is difficult to come by it; whereas,

only then that he sees things quite plain, and takes them for that which they really are: while in earlier years he saw a phantom-world, put together out of the whims and crotchets of his own mind, inherited prejudice and str

d had properly appreciated everything within it, might the sphere be gradually enlarged; care being always taken that nothing was left obscure, or half or wrongly understood. The consequence of this training would be that the child's notions of men and things would always be limited and simple in their character; but, on the other hand, they would be cl

riter of the last century (1757-93). His Anton Reiser, compo

rtant part in it, will make their entrance to the sound of drums and trumpets; but when, in old age, we look

he first half of his time, a man gets a sight of the right side, and during the second half, of the wrong. The wrong side

d experience, though they can never be a substitute for intellectual talent, may far outweigh it; and even in a person of the meanest capacity, they give a certain counterpoi

ferred other people's character from an examination of his own; with the result that he has been gradually disappointed to find that in the qualities of the head or in those of the heart-and usually in both-he reaches a level to which they do not attain; so he gladly avoids having any

er Urtheilskraft, Par

apting himself to its pursuits; if he at once knows how to deal with men, and enters upon life, as it were, fully prepared. It argues a vulgar nature. On the other

hearsay. This makes our spirits droop, for at the same time we begin to feel that our vital powers are on the ebb. A grave seriousness now takes the place of that early extravagance of spirit; and the change is noticeable even in the expression of a man's face. As long as we are young, people

the past; so that, at the beginning, life presents us with a picture in which the objects appear a great way off, as though we had reversed our te

had so firm and stable a base in the days of our youth, now seems nothing but a rapid flight

s behind it. If a man were put to it, he could tell you more out of the first quarter of his life than out of two of the remaining periods. Nay, in the spring of life, as in the

ant them both to sink gradually into the gulf of oblivion. Now, we are unaccustomed to reflect upon matters of no importance, or, as a rule, upon things that we have found disagreeable, and yet that is necessary if the memory of them is to be preserved. But the class of things that may be called insignificant is continually receiving fresh additions: much that wears an air of importance at first, gradually becomes of no consequence at all from the fact of its frequent repetit

touch our vanity, as is usually the case; for few misfortunes fall upon us for which we can be held entirely bla

er, the more things that have occupied him in life. The things we did in years gone by, the events that happened long ago, are like those ob

rgotten, and all that remains of it is the general knowledge that we have lived through it-a mere notion of abstract existence, not a direct vision of some particular experience. It is this that causes some single event of long ago to appear as though it took place but yesterday: the intervening time vanishes, and the whole of life looks incredibly short. Nay, there are occasional moments in old age when we can scarcely believe that we are so advanced in ye

nature, is not in itself affected by time; but that, on the other hand, time is necessary for the objectification of the will, for the will as presented in the p

iged to find room for all the things we hope to attain in life. We cram the years so full of projects that i

already lived. In those early years things are new to us, and so they appear important; we dwell upon them after they hav

ave the time back again which we spent there-days when we were younger and fresher than we are now. In those moments

one of which burns a long time with very little oil, because it has a very thin wick; and the other just as long, though it has a very thick one, because

part of his expenses is covered by the interest of his securities; and if the deficit is but slight, he pays no attention to it. But the deficit goes on increasing, until he awakes to the fact that it is becoming more serious every day: his position becomes less and less secure, and he feels himself growing poorer and poorer, while he has no expectation of this drain upon his resources comi

se who each year lay by a part of their interest and add it to their capital: in other words, not only does their interest come in regularly, but the capital is constantly receiv

rts which the training involved, so completely exhausted their powers that they failed to last on into manhood. As this is true of muscular, so it is still more true of nervous energy, of which all intellectual achievements are the manifestation. Hence, those infant prodigies-ingenia praecoda-the fruit of a

te 1: P

s they are young, and afterwards there is nothing attractive about them; others are vigorous and active in manhood, and then lose all the value they possess as they advance in years; m

in to the qualities of youth or manhood or old age-something which accords with one or a

y into the distance and apparently decrease in size. In the same way a man becomes conscious that

e said that it is only in youth that a man lives with a full degree of consciousness, and that he is only half alive when he is old. As the years advance, his consciousness of what goes on about him dwindles, and the things

from now and then in reality hanging heavily upon our hands under both these circumstances, at any rate more than is the case when we are old or staying at home. But the intellect gradually becomes so rubbed down and blunted by long habituation to such impressions that things have a constant tendency to produce less and less impression upon us as they pass by; and this makes time seem increasingly less important, and therefore shorter in duration: the hours of the boy are longer than the days of the old man. Accordingly, time goes faster and faster the longer we live, like a b

nt need of occupation-whether it is work or play-that is shown by children: if they come to an end of both work and play, a terrible feeling of boredom ensues. Even in youth people are by no means free from this tendency, and dread the hours when they have nothing to do. As manhood approaches, boredom disappears; and old men find the time too short when their days fly past them like arrows from a bow. Of course, I must be understood to speak

r be excogitated-that is to say, the first knowledge of them is immediate, called forth by some momentary impression. This knowledge is of such a kind as to be attainable only when the impressions are strong, lively and deep; and if we are to be acquainted with deep truths, everything depends upon a proper use of our early years. In later life, we

results of outward observation are present in sufficient numbers to allow of their being classified according to the ideas they represent,-a process which in its turn causes those ideas to be more fully understood in all their bearings, and the exact value and amount of trust to be placed in them, fixed and determined; while at the same time he has grown accustomed to the impressions produced by the various phenomena of life, and their effects on him are no longer what they were. Contrarily, in youth, the

ich in experience or in learning; he has then had time and opportunity enough to enable him to see and think over life from all its sides; he has been able to compare one thing with another, and to discover points of contact and connecting links, so that only then are the true relations of things rightly understood. Further, in old age there comes an increased depth in the knowledge that w

its natural course; it is only he who is acquainted-and this is most important-not only with its entrance, like the rest of mankind, but with its exit too; s

a knowledge of the world that shall be distinctive and peculiar,-for an original view of life, in other words, the legacy that a man of genius leaves to his fellow-men; it is, however, only in later years that he becomes master of his material.

place for making the general observation, that, although in its main qualities a man's intellect or head, as well as his character or heart, is innate, yet the former is by no means so unalterable in its nature as the latter. The fact is that the intellect is subject to very many transformations, which, as a rule, do not fail to make their actual appearance; and this is so, partly because the intellect has a deep foundation in the physique, and partly because the material with which it deals is given in experience. And so, from a physical point of view, we find that if a man has any peculiar power, it first gradually increases in strength until it reaches its acme, after which it enters upon a path of slow decadence, until it ends in imbecility. Bu

remaining thirty supply the commentary; and that without the commentary we are unable to understand aright the true

are, with whom you have come into contact in your passage through the world. For by the end of life characters have come out in their true light, a

d to other people and to the world. It will often happen that as a result of this knowledge, a man will have to assign himself a lower place than he formerly thought was his due. But there are exceptions to this rule; and it will occasionally

shows a man the stuff

hey give a great deal of pain and little pleasure. In age the passions cool and leave a man at rest, and then forthwith his mind takes a contemplative tone; the intellect is set

the less to be envied on the ground that many pleasures are denied it. For every sort of pleasure is never anything more than the quietive of some need or longing; and that pleasure should

the animal passion which has hitherto never ceased to disquiet him. Nay, it may even be said that the countless and manifold humors which have their source in this passion, and the emotions that spring from it, produce a mild stat

eason for this is nothing but the fact that the young man is still under the service, nay, the forced labor, imposed by that evil spirit, which scarcely ever leaves him a moment to himself. To this source may b

e, and nothing remains but the hollow shell; or, from another point of view, life then becomes like a com

harmed by all the pretty things and the many pleasing shapes that surround him; and forthwith his imagination conjures up pleasures which the world can never realize. So he is filled with an ardent desire for he knows not what delights-robbing him of all rest and making happiness impossible. But when old age is reached, all this is over and done with, partly because the blood runs cooler and the senses are no longer so easily allured; partly because experi

s change is the peace of mind that ensues-a great element in happiness, and, in fact, the condition and essence of it. While the young man fancies that there is a vast amount of good things

lace or in the cottage, any more than he himself enjoys when he is free from bodily or mental pain. The worldly distinctions of great and small, high and low, exist for him no longer; and in this blissful state of mind the old man may look down with a smile upon all false notions. He is completely undeceived, and knows that whatever may be done to ado

f. Horace, Epi

pomp, grandeur and magnificence are faded. A man has then found out that behind most of the things he wants, and most of the pleasures he longs for, there is very little after all; and so he comes by degrees to see th

e, which, for reasons that do not require to be explained, old age certainly cannot escape; it is rather the fate that awaits those who have never known any other pleasures but the gratification of the senses and the delights of society-who have left their minds unenlightened and their faculties unused. It is quite true that the intellectual faculties decline with the approach of old age; but where they were originally strong, there will always be enough left to combat the onslaught of boredom. And then again, as I have sai

great misfortune. If a man is secure from that, and retains his health, old age may be a very passable time of life. Its chief necessity is to be comfortable and well off; and, in consequence, money is then prized more than ever, because it is a substitute for failing strength. Deserted by Venus, the old man likes to turn to Bacchus to make him merry. In the place of wanting to see things, to tra

t happens now can change their disposition, or make them act otherwise. To talk to old people of this kind is like writing on the sand; if you produce any impression at all, it is gone almost immediately; old age is here nothing bu

death, for which it is a preparation, would be too hard to bear. So the greatest boon that follows the attainment of extreme old age is euthanasia,-an easy death, not ushered in by disease, and free from all pain and stru

Vorstellung, Bk. II. ch. 41, for a furth

a man is old, to die is the only thing that awaits him; while if he is young, he may expect to live; and the question arises which of the two fates is the more hazardous, and if life is not a matter which, on the whole, it is better to have behind one t

: Ecclesias

ed either long or short, since it is the ultimate standard by w

who exceed the age of ninety who attain euthanasia,-who die, that is to say, of no disease, apoplexy or convulsion, and pass away without agony of any sort; nay, who sometimes even show no pallor, but expire

l length of life were from seventy to eighty years, people would die, about that time, of mere old age. Now this is certainly not the case. If they die then, they die, like younger people, of disease; and disease is something abnormal. Therefore it is not natural to die at that age. It is only when they are between ninety and a hundred that

ts; but the course of human life in general, as far as the various periods of it are concerned, may be likened t

great effect upon him; but under the guidance of so crafty and eloquent a god, he easily makes great progress. Venus begins her sway during his twentieth year, a

extension. He is frugal; in other words, by the help of Ceres, he favors what is useful; he has his own hearth, by the influence

f his strength, and rich in experience and knowledge; and if he has any power and position of his own, he is endowed with authority over all who stand in his immediate surroundings. He is no more inclined to receive ord

the age of sixty, a weight

many feign as

w, heavy and

or, as the saying is,

ether, and how closely and intimately Eros is connected with Death: how Orcus, or Amenthes, as the Egyptians called him, is not only the receiver but the giver of all things-[Greek: lambanon kai dido