{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_10739/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_10739","id":"gutenberg_10739","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10739","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Ethics","Political science"],"text":"THE ESSAYS\n\nOF\n\nARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER\n\nTRANSLATED BY\n\nT. BAILEY SAUNDERS, M.A.\n\n\n\n\nON HUMAN NATURE.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n  HUMAN NATURE\n  GOVERNMENT\n  FREE-WILL AND FATALISM\n  CHARACTER\n  MORAL INSTINCT\n  ETHICAL REFLECTIONS\n\n\n\n\nTRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.\n\nThe following essays are drawn from the chapters entitled _Zur Ethik_\nand _Zur Rechtslehre und Politik_ which are to be found both in\nSchopenhauer's _Parerga_ and in his posthumous writings. As in my\nprevious volumes, so also in this, I have omitted a few passages which\nappeared to me to be either antiquated or no longer of any general\ninterest. For convenience' sake I have divided the original chapters\ninto sections, which I have had to name; and I have also had to invent\na title which should express their real scope. The reader will find\nthat it is not so much _Ethics_ and _Politics_ that are here treated,\nas human nature itself in various aspects.\n\nT.B.S.\n\n\n\n\nHUMAN NATURE.\n\n\nTruths of the physical order may possess much external significance,\nbut internal significance they have none. The latter is the privilege\nof intellectual and moral truths, which are concerned with the\nobjectivation of the will in its highest stages, whereas physical\ntruths are concerned with it in its lowest.\n\nFor example, if we could establish the truth of what up till now is\nonly a conjecture, namely, that it is the action of the sun which\nproduces thermoelectricity at the equator; that this produces\nterrestrial magnetism; and that this magnetism, again, is the cause of\nthe _aurora borealis_, these would be truths externally of great, but\ninternally of little, significance. On the other hand, examples\nof internal significance are furnished by all great and true\nphilosophical systems; by the catastrophe of every good tragedy; nay,\neven by the observation of human conduct in the extreme manifestations\nof its morality and immorality, of its good and its evil character.\nFor all these are expressions of that reality which takes outward\nshape as the world, and which, in the highest stages of its\nobjectivation, proclaims its innermost nature.\n\nTo say that the world has only a physical and not a moral significance\nis the greatest and most pernicious of all errors, the fundamental\nblunder, the real perversity of mind and temper; and, at bottom, it\nis doubtless the tendency which faith personifies as Anti-Christ.\nNevertheless, in spite of all religions--and they are systems which\none and all maintain the opposite, and seek to establish it in their\nmythical way--this fundamental error never becomes quite extinct, but\nraises its head from time to time afresh, until universal indignation\ncompels it to hide itself once more.\n\nYet, however certain we may feel of the moral significance of life\nand the world, to explain and illustrate it, and to resolve the\ncontradiction between this significance and the world as it is, form\na task of great difficulty; so great, indeed, as to make it possible\nthat it has remained for me to exhibit the true and only genuine\nand sound basis of morality everywhere and at all times effective,\ntogether with the results to which it leads. The actual facts of\nmorality are too much on my side for me to fear that my theory can\never be replaced or upset by any other.\n\nHowever, so long as even my ethical system continues to be ignored by\nthe professorial world, it is Kant's moral principle that prevails in\nthe universities. Among its various forms the one which is most in\nfavour at present is \"the dignity of man.\" I have already exposed\nthe absurdity of this doctrine in my treatise on the _Foundation of\nMorality_.[1] Therefore I will only say here that if the question were\nasked on what the alleged dignity of man rests, it would not be long\nbefore the answer was made that it rests upon his morality. In other\nwords, his morality rests upon his dignity, and his dignity rests upon\nhis morality.\n\n[Footnote 1: \u00a7 8.]\n\nBut apart from this circular argument it seems to me that the idea of\ndignity can be applied only in an ironical sense to a being whose will\nis so sinful, whose intellect is so limited, whose body is so weak and\nperishable as man's. How shall a man be proud, when his conception\nis a crime, his birth a penalty, his life a labour, and death a\nnecessity!--\n\n  _Quid superbit homo? cujus conceptio culpa,\n  Nasci poena, labor vita, necesse mori_!\n\nTherefore, in opposition to the above-mentioned form of the Kantian\nprinciple, I should be inclined to lay down the following rule: When\nyou come into contact with a man, no matter whom, do not attempt an\nobjective appreciation of him according to his worth and dignity. Do\nnot consider his bad will, or his narrow understanding and perverse\nideas; as the former may easily lead you to hate and the latter to\ndespise him; but fix your attention only upon his sufferings, his\nneeds, his anxieties, his pains. Then you will always feel your\nkinship with him; you will sympathise with him; and instead of hatred\nor contempt you will experience the commiseration that alone is the\npeace to which the Gospel calls us. The way to keep down hatred and\ncontempt is certainly not to look for a man's alleged \"dignity,\" but,\non the contrary, to regard him as an object of pity.\n\nThe Buddhists, as the result of the more profound views which they\nentertain on ethical and metaphysical subjects, start from the\ncardinal vices and not the cardinal virtues; since the virtues make\ntheir appearance only as the contraries or negations of the vices.\nAccording to Schmidt's _History of the Eastern Mongolians_ the\ncardinal vices in the Buddhist scheme are four: Lust, Indolence,\nAnger, and Avarice. But probably instead of Indolence, we should read\nPride; for so it stands in the _Lettres \u00e9difiantes et curieuses_,[1]\nwhere Envy, or Hatred, is added as a fifth. I am confirmed in\ncorrecting the statement of the excellent Schmidt by the fact that my\nrendering agrees with the doctrine of the Sufis, who are certainly\nunder the influence of the Brahmins and Buddhists. The Sufis also\nmaintain that there are four cardinal vices, and they arrange them in\nvery striking pairs, so that Lust appears in connection with Avarice,\nand Anger with Pride. The four cardinal virtues opposed to them would\nbe Chastity and Generosity, together with Gentleness and Humility.\n\n[Footnote 1: Edit, of 1819, vol. vi., p. 372.]\n\nWhen we compare these profound ideas of morality, as they are\nentertained by oriental nations, with the celebrated cardinal virtues\nof Plato, which have been recapitulated again and again--Justice,\nValour, Temperance, and Wisdom--it is plain that the latter are not\nbased on any clear, leading idea, but are chosen on grounds that are\nsuperficial and, in part, obviously false. Virtues must be qualities\nof the will, but Wisdom is chiefly an attribute of the Intellect.\n[Greek: Sophrosynae], which Cicero translates _Temperantia_, is a very\nindefinite and ambiguous word, and it admits, therefore, of a variety\nof applications: it may mean discretion, or abstinence, or keeping a\nlevel head. Courage is not a virtue at all; although sometimes it is a\nservant or instrument of virtue; but it is just as ready to become\nthe servant of the greatest villainy. It is really a quality of\ntemperament. Even Geulinx (in the preface to this _Ethics_) condemned\nthe Platonic virtues and put the following in their place: Diligence,\nObedience, Justice and Humility; which are obviously bad. The Chinese\ndistinguish five cardinal virtues: Sympathy, Justice, Propriety,\nWisdom, and Sincerity. The virtues of Christianity are theological,\nnot cardinal: Faith, Love, and Hope.\n\nFundamental disposition towards others, assuming the character either\nof Envy or of Sympathy, is the point at which the moral virtues and\nvices of mankind first diverge. These two diametrically opposite\nqualities exist in every man; for they spring from the inevitable\ncomparison which he draws between his own lot and that of others.\nAccording as the result of this comparison affects his individual\ncharacter does the one or the other of these qualities become the\nsource and principle of all his action. Envy builds the wall between\n_Thee_ and _Me_ thicker and stronger; Sympathy makes it slight and\ntransparent; nay, sometimes it pulls down the wall altogether; and\nthen the distinction between self and not-self vanishes.\n\nValour, which has been mentioned as a virtue, or rather the Courage\non which it is based (for valour is only courage in war), deserves a\ncloser examination. The ancients reckoned Courage among the virtues,\nand cowardice among the vices; but there is no corresponding idea in\nthe Christian scheme, which makes for charity and patience, and in its\nteaching forbids all enmity or even resistance. The result is that\nwith the moderns Courage is no longer a virtue. Nevertheless it must\nbe admitted that cowardice does not seem to be very compatible with\nany nobility of character--if only for the reason that it betrays an\novergreat apprehension about one's own person.\n\nCourage, however, may also be explained as a readiness to meet ills\nthat threaten at the moment, in order to avoid greater ills that\nlie in the future; whereas cowardice does the contrary. But this\nreadiness is of the same quality as _patience_, for patience consists\nin the clear consciousness that greater evils than those which are\npresent, and that any violent attempt to flee from or guard against\nthe ills we have may bring the others upon us. Courage, then, would\nbe a kind of patience; and since it is patience that enables us to\npractise forbearance and self control, Courage is, through the medium\nof patience, at least akin to virtue.\n\nBut perhaps Courage admits of being considered from a higher point of\nview. The fear of death may in every case be traced to a deficiency\nin that natural philosophy--natural, and therefore resting on mere\nfeeling--which gives a man the assurance that he exists in everything\noutside him just as much as in his own person; so that the death of\nhis person can do him little harm. But it is just this very assurance\nthat would give a man heroic Courage; and therefore, as the reader\nwill recollect from my _Ethics_, Courage comes from the same source as\nthe virtues of Justice and Humanity. This is, I admit, to take a very\nhigh view of the matter; but apart from it I cannot well explain why\ncowardice seems contemptible, and personal courage a noble and sublime\nthing; for no lower point of view enables me to see why a finite\nindividual who is everything to himself--nay, who is himself even\nthe very fundamental condition of the existence of the rest of the\nworld--should not put his own preservation above every other aim. It\nis, then, an insufficient explanation of Courage to make it rest\nonly on utility, to give it an empirical and not a transcendental\ncharacter. It may have been for some such reason that Calderon once\nuttered a sceptical but remarkable opinion in regard to Courage, nay,\nactually denied its reality; and put his denial into the mouth of a\nwise old minister, addressing his young sovereign. \"Although,\" he\nobserved, \"natural fear is operative in all alike, a man may be brave\nin not letting it be seen; and it is this that constitutes Courage\":\n\n  _Que aunque el natural temor\n  En todos obra igualmente,\n  No mostrarle es ser valiente\n  Y esto es lo que hace el valor_.[1]\n\n[Footnote 1: _La Hija del Aire_, ii., 2.]\n\nIn regard to the difference which I have mentioned between the\nancients and the moderns in their estimate of Courage as a virtue,\nit must be remembered that by Virtue, _virtus_, [Greek: aretae], the\nancients understood every excellence or quality that was praiseworthy\nin itself, it might be moral or intellectual, or possibly only\nphysical. But when Christianity demonstrated that the fundamental\ntendency of life was moral, it was moral superiority alone than\nhenceforth attached to the notion of Virtue. Meanwhile the earlier\nusage still survived in the elder Latinists, and also in Italian\nwriters, as is proved by the well-known meaning of the word\n_virtuoso_. The special attention of students should be drawn to this\nwider range of the idea of Virtue amongst the ancients, as otherwise\nit might easily be a source of secret perplexity. I may recommend two\npassages preserved for us by Stobaeus, which will serve this purpose.\nOne of them is apparently from the Pythagorean philosopher Metopos, in\nwhich the fitness of every bodily member is declared to be a virtue.\nThe other pronounces that the virtue of a shoemaker is to make good\nshoes. This may also serve to explain why it is that in the ancient\nscheme of ethics virtues and vices are mentioned which find no place\nin ours.\n\nAs the place of Courage amongst the virtues is a matter of doubt,\nso is that of Avarice amongst the vices. It must not, however, be\nconfounded with greed, which is the most immediate meaning of the\nLatin word _avaritia_. Let us then draw up and examine the arguments\n_pro et contra_ in regard to Avarice, and leave the final judgment to\nbe formed by every man for himself.\n\nOn the one hand it is argued that it is not Avarice which is a vice,\nbut extravagance, its opposite. Extravagance springs from a brutish\nlimitation to the present moment, in comparison with which the future,\nexisting as it does only in thought, is as nothing. It rests upon the\nillusion that sensual pleasures possess a positive or real value.\nAccordingly, future need and misery is the price at which the\nspendthrift purchases pleasures that are empty, fleeting, and often no\nmore than imaginary; or else feeds his vain, stupid self-conceit on\nthe bows and scrapes of parasites who laugh at him in secret, or on\nthe gaze of the mob and those who envy his magnificence. We should,\ntherefore, shun the spendthrift as though he had the plague, and on\ndiscovering his vice break with him betimes, in order that later on,\nwhen the consequences of his extravagance ensue, we may neither have\nto help to bear them, nor, on the other hand, have to play the part of\nthe friends of Timon of Athens.\n\nAt the same time it is not to be expected that he who foolishly\nsquanders his own fortune will leave another man's intact, if it\nshould chance to be committed to his keeping; nay, _sui profusus_ and\n_alieni appetens_ are by Sallust very rightly conjoined. Hence it is\nthat extravagance leads not only to impoverishment but also to crime;\nand crime amongst the moneyed classes is almost always the result of\nextravagance. It is accordingly with justice that the _Koran_ declares\nall spendthrifts to be \"brothers of Satan.\"\n\nBut it is superfluity that Avarice brings in its train, and when was\nsuperfluity ever unwelcome? That must be a good vice which has good\nconsequences. Avarice proceeds upon the principle that all pleasure is\nonly negative in its operation and that the happiness which consists\nof a series of pleasures is a chimaera; that, on the contrary, it\nis pains which are positive and extremely real. Accordingly, the\navaricious man foregoes the former in order that he may be the\nbetter preserved from the latter, and thus it is that _bear and\nforbear_--_sustine et abstine_--is his maxim. And because he knows,\nfurther, how inexhaustible are the possibilities of misfortune,\nand how innumerable the paths of danger, he increases the means of\navoiding them, in order, if possible, to surround himself with a\ntriple wall of protection. Who, then, can say where precaution against\ndisaster begins to be exaggerated? He alone who knows where the\nmalignity of fate reaches its limit. And even if precaution were\nexaggerated it is an error which at the most would hurt the man who\ntook it, and not others. If he will never need the treasures which he\nlays up for himself, they will one day benefit others whom nature\nhas made less careful. That until then he withdraws the money\nfrom circulation is no misfortune; for money is not an article of\nconsumption: it only represents the good things which a man may\nactually possess, and is not one itself. Coins are only counters;\ntheir value is what they represent; and what they represent cannot be\nwithdrawn from circulation. Moreover, by holding back the money,\nthe value of the remainder which is in circulation is enhanced by\nprecisely the same amount. Even though it be the case, as is said,\nthat many a miser comes in the end to love money itself for its own\nsake, it is equally certain that many a spendthrift, on the other\nhand, loves spending and squandering for no better reason. Friendship\nwith a miser is not only without danger, but it is profitable, because\nof the great advantages it can bring. For it is doubtless those who\nare nearest and dearest to the miser who on his death will reap\nthe fruits of the self-control which he exercised; but even in his\nlifetime, too, something may be expected of him in cases of great\nneed. At any rate one can always hope for more from him than from the\nspendthrift, who has lost his all and is himself helpless and in debt.\n_Mas da el duro que el desnudo_, says a Spanish proverb; the man who\nhas a hard heart will give more than the man who has an empty purse.\nThe upshot of all this is that Avarice is not a vice.\n\nOn the other side, it may be said that Avarice is the quintessence of\nall vices. When physical pleasures seduce a man from the right path,\nit is his sensual nature--the animal part of him--which is at fault.\nHe is carried away by its attractions, and, overcome by the impression\nof the moment, he acts without thinking of the consequences. When,\non the other hand, he is brought by age or bodily weakness to the\ncondition in which the vices that he could never abandon end by\nabandoning him, and his capacity for physical pleasure dies--if he\nturns to Avarice, the intellectual desire survives the sensual. Money,\nwhich represents all the good things of this world, and is these good\nthings in the abstract, now becomes the dry trunk overgrown with all\nthe dead lusts of the flesh, which are egoism in the abstract. They\ncome to life again in the love of the Mammon. The transient pleasure\nof the senses has become a deliberate and calculated lust of money,\nwhich, like that to which it is directed, is symbolical in its nature,\nand, like it, indestructible.\n\nThis obstinate love of the pleasures of the world--a love which, as it\nwere, outlives itself; this utterly incorrigible sin, this refined\nand sublimated desire of the flesh, is the abstract form in which all\nlusts are concentrated, and to which it stands like a general idea to\nindividual particulars. Accordingly, Avarice is the vice of age, just\nas extravagance is the vice of youth.\n\nThis _disputatio in utramque partem_--this debate for and against--is\ncertainly calculated to drive us into accepting the _juste milieu_\nmorality of Aristotle; a conclusion that is also supported by the\nfollowing consideration.\n\nEvery human perfection is allied to a defect into which it threatens\nto pass; but it is also true that every defect is allied to a\nperfection. Hence it is that if, as often happens, we make a mistake\nabout a man, it is because at the beginning of our acquaintance with\nhim we confound his defects with the kinds of perfection to which they\nare allied. The cautious man seems to us a coward; the economical man,\na miser; the spendthrift seems liberal; the rude fellow, downright and\nsincere; the foolhardy person looks as if he were going to work with a\nnoble self-confidence; and so on in many other cases.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNo one can live among men without feeling drawn again and again to the\ntempting supposition that moral baseness and intellectual incapacity\nare closely connected, as though they both sprang direct from one\nsource. That that, however, is not so, I have shown in detail.[1] That\nit seems to be so is merely due to the fact that both are so often\nfound together; and the circumstance is to be explained by the very\nfrequent occurrence of each of them, so that it may easily happen for\nboth to be compelled to live under one roof. At the same time it is\nnot to be denied that they play into each other's hands to their\nmutual benefit; and it is this that produces the very unedifying\nspectacle which only too many men exhibit, and that makes the world to\ngo as it goes. A man who is unintelligent is very likely to show his\nperfidy, villainy and malice; whereas a clever man understands how\nto conceal these qualities. And how often, on the other hand, does\na perversity of heart prevent a man from seeing truths which his\nintelligence is quite capable of grasping!\n\n[Footnote 1: In my chief work, vol. ii., ch. xix,]\n\nNevertheless, let no one boast. Just as every man, though he be the\ngreatest genius, has very definite limitations in some one sphere of\nknowledge, and thus attests his common origin with the essentially\nperverse and stupid mass of mankind, so also has every man something\nin his nature which is positively evil. Even the best, nay the\nnoblest, character will sometimes surprise us by isolated traits of\ndepravity; as though it were to acknowledge his kinship with the human\nrace, in which villainy--nay, cruelty--is to be found in that degree.\nFor it was just in virtue of this evil in him, this bad principle,\nthat of necessity he became a man. And for the same reason the world\nin general is what my clear mirror of it has shown it to be.\n\nBut in spite of all this the difference even between one man and\nanother is incalculably great, and many a one would be horrified to\nsee another as he really is. Oh, for some Asmodeus of morality, to\nmake not only roofs and walls transparent to his favourites, but\nalso to lift the veil of dissimulation, fraud, hypocrisy, pretence,\nfalsehood and deception, which is spread over all things! to show how\nlittle true honesty there is in the world, and how often, even where\nit is least to be expected, behind all the exterior outwork of virtue,\nsecretly and in the innermost recesses, unrighteousness sits at the\nhelm! It is just on this account that so many men of the better kind\nhave four-footed friends: for, to be sure, how is a man to get relief\nfrom the endless dissimulation, falsity and malice of mankind, if\nthere were no dogs into whose honest faces he can look without\ndistrust?\n\nFor what is our civilised world but a big masquerade? where you meet\nknights, priests, soldiers, men of learning, barristers, clergymen,\nphilosophers, and I don't know what all! But they are not what they\npretend to be; they are only masks, and, as a rule, behind the masks\nyou will find moneymakers. One man, I suppose, puts on the mask of\nlaw, which he has borrowed for the purpose from a barrister, only in\norder to be able to give another man a sound drubbing; a second has\nchosen the mask of patriotism and the public welfare with a similar\nintent; a third takes religion or purity of doctrine. For all sorts\nof purposes men have often put on the mask of philosophy, and even\nof philanthropy, and I know not what besides. Women have a smaller\nchoice. As a rule they avail themselves of the mask of morality,\nmodesty, domesticity, and humility. Then there are general masks,\nwithout any particular character attaching to them like dominoes. They\nmay be met with everywhere; and of this sort is the strict rectitude,\nthe courtesy, the sincere sympathy, the smiling friendship, that\npeople profess. The whole of these masks as a rule are merely, as I\nhave said, a disguise for some industry, commerce, or speculation. It\nis merchants alone who in this respect constitute any honest class.\nThey are the only people who give themselves out to be what they are;\nand therefore they go about without any mask at all, and consequently\ntake a humble rank.\n\nIt is very necessary that a man should be apprised early in life that\nit is a masquerade in which he finds himself. For otherwise there are\nmany things which he will fail to understand and put up with, nay, at\nwhich he will be completely puzzled, and that man longest of all whose\nheart is made of better clay--\n\n  _Et meliore luto finxit praecordia Titan.[1]_\n\n[Footnote 1: Juvenal, _Sat_. 14, 34]\n\nSuch for instance is the favour that villainy finds; the neglect that\nmerit, even the rarest and the greatest, suffers at the hands of those\nof the same profession; the hatred of truth and great capacity; the\nignorance of scholars in their own province; and the fact that true\nwares are almost always despised and the merely specious ones in\nrequest. Therefore let even the young be instructed betimes that in\nthis masquerade the apples are of wax, the flowers of silk, the fish\nof pasteboard, and that all things--yes, all things--are toys and\ntrifles; and that of two men whom he may see earnestly engaged in\nbusiness, one is supplying spurious goods and the other paying for\nthem in false coin.\n\nBut there are more serious reflections to be made, and worse things to\nbe recorded. Man is at bottom a savage, horrible beast. We know it,\nif only in the business of taming and restraining him which we call\ncivilisation. Hence it is that we are terrified if now and then his\nnature breaks out. Wherever and whenever the locks and chains of law\nand order fall off and give place to anarchy, he shows himself for\nwhat he is. But it is unnecessary to wait for anarchy in order to gain\nenlightenment on this subject. A hundred records, old and new, produce\nthe conviction that in his unrelenting cruelty man is in no way\ninferior to the tiger and the hyaena. A forcible example is supplied\nby a publication of the year 1841 entitled _Slavery and the Internal\nSlave Trade in the United States of North America: being replies to\nquestions transmitted by the British Anti-slavery Society to the\nAmerican Anti-slavery Society_.[1] This book constitutes one of the\nheaviest indictments against the human race. No one can put it down\nwith a feeling of horror, and few without tears. For whatever the\nreader may have ever heard, or imagined, or dreamt, of the unhappy\ncondition of slavery, or indeed of human cruelty in general, it will\nseem small to him when he reads of the way in which those devils\nin human form, those bigoted, church-going, strictly Sabbatarian\nrascals--and in particular the Anglican priests among them--treated\ntheir innocent black brothers, who by wrong and violence had got into\ntheir diabolical clutches.\n\n[Footnote 1: _Translator's 'Note_.--If Schopenhauer were writing\nto-day, he would with equal truth point to the miseries of the African\ntrade. I have slightly abridged this passage, as some of the evils\nagainst which he protested no longer exist.]\n\nOther examples are furnished by Tshudi's _Travels in Peru_, in the\ndescription which he gives of the treatment of the Peruvian soldiers\nat the hands of their officers; and by Macleod's _Travels in Eastern\nAfrica_, where the author tells of the cold-blooded and truly devilish\ncruelty with which the Portuguese in Mozambique treat their slaves.\nBut we need not go for examples to the New World, that obverse side of\nour planet. In the year 1848 it was brought to life that in England,\nnot in one, but apparently in a hundred cases within a brief period, a\nhusband had poisoned his wife or _vice vers\u00e2_, or both had joined in\npoisoning their children, or in torturing them slowly to death by\nstarving and ill-treating them, with no other object than to get the\nmoney for burying them which they had insured in the Burial Clubs\nagainst their death. For this purpose a child was often insured in\nseveral, even in as many as twenty clubs at once.[1]\n\n[Footnote 1: Cf. _The Times_, 20th, 22nd and 23rd Sept., 1848, and\nalso 12th Dec., 1853.]\n\nDetails of this character belong, indeed, to the blackest pages in the\ncriminal records of humanity. But, when all is said, it is the\ninward and innate character of man, this god _par excellence_ of the\nPantheists, from which they and everything like them proceed. In every\nman there dwells, first and foremost, a colossal egoism, which breaks\nthe bounds of right and justice with the greatest freedom, as everyday\nlife shows on a small scale, and as history on every page of it on a\nlarge. Does not the recognised need of a balance of power in Europe,\nwith the anxious way in which it is preserved, demonstrate that man\nis a beast of prey, who no sooner sees a weaker man near him than he\nfalls upon him without fail? and does not the same hold good of the\naffairs of ordinary life?\n\nBut to the boundless egoism of our nature there is joined more or\nless in every human breast a fund of hatred, anger, envy, rancour and\nmalice, accumulated like the venom in a serpent's tooth, and waiting\nonly for an opportunity of venting itself, and then, like a demon\nunchained, of storming and raging. If a man has no great occasion for\nbreaking out, he will end by taking advantage of the smallest, and by\nworking it up into something great by the aid of his imagination; for,\nhowever small it may be, it is enough to rouse his anger--\n\n  _Quantulacunque adeo est occasio, sufficit irae[1]_--\n\n[Footnote 1: Juvenal, _Sat_. 13, 183.]\n\nand then he will carry it as far as he can and may. We see this in\ndaily life, where such outbursts are well known under the name of\n\"venting one's gall on something.\" It will also have been observed\nthat if such outbursts meet with no opposition the subject of them\nfeels decidedly the better for them afterwards. That anger is\nnot without its pleasure is a truth that was recorded even by\nAristotle;[1] and he quotes a passage from Homer, who declares anger\nto be sweeter than honey. But not in anger alone--in hatred too, which\nstands to anger like a chronic to an acute disease, a man may indulge\nwith the greatest delight:\n\n[Footnote 1: _Rhet_., i., 11; ii., 2.]\n\n  _Now hatred is by far the longest pleasure,\n  Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure_[1]\n\n[Footnote 1: Byron _Don Juan_, c. xiii, 6.]\n\nGobineau in his work _Les Races Humaines_ has called man _l'animal\nm\u00e9chant par excellence_. People take this very ill, because they feel\nthat it hits them; but he is quite right, for man is the only animal\nwhich causes pain to others without any further purpose than just to\ncause it. Other animals never do it except to satisfy their hunger, or\nin the rage of combat. If it is said against the tiger that he kills\nmore than eats, he strangles his prey only for the purpose of eating\nit; and if he cannot eat it, the only explanation is, as the French\nphrase has it, that _ses yeux sont plus grands que son estomac_. No\nanimal ever torments another for the mere purpose of tormenting, but\nman does it, and it is this that constitutes the diabolical feature in\nhis character which is so much worse than the merely animal. I have\nalready spoken of the matter in its broad aspect; but it is manifest\neven in small things, and every reader has a daily opportunity\nof observing it. For instance, if two little dogs are playing\ntogether--and what a genial and charming sight it is--and a child of\nthree or four years joins them, it is almost inevitable for it to\nbegin hitting them with a whip or stick, and thereby show itself, even\nat that age, _l'animal m\u00e9chant par excellence_. The love of teasing\nand playing tricks, which is common enough, may be traced to the same\nsource. For instance, if a man has expressed his annoyance at any\ninterruption or other petty inconvenience, there will be no lack of\npeople who for that very reason will bring it about: _animal m\u00e9chant\npar excellence_! This is so certain that a man should be careful not\nto express any annoyance at small evils. On the other hand he should\nalso be careful not to express his pleasure at any trifle, for, if\nhe does so, men will act like the jailer who, when he found that his\nprisoner had performed the laborious task of taming a spider, and took\na pleasure in watching it, immediately crushed it under his foot:\n_l'animal m\u00e9chant par excellence_! This is why all animals are\ninstinctively afraid of the sight, or even of the track of a man, that\n_animal m\u00e9chant par excellence_! nor does their instinct them false;\nfor it is man alone who hunts game for which he has no use and which\ndoes him no harm.\n\nIt is a fact, then, that in the heart of every man there lies a wild\nbeast which only waits for an opportunity to storm and rage, in its\ndesire to inflict pain on others, or, if they stand in his way, to\nkill them. It is this which is the source of all the lust of war and\nbattle. In trying to tame and to some extent hold it in check, the\nintelligence, its appointed keeper, has always enough to do. People\nmay, if they please, call it the radical evil of human nature--a\nname which will at least serve those with whom a word stands for an\nexplanation. I say, however, that it is the will to live, which, more\nand more embittered by the constant sufferings of existence, seeks to\nalleviate its own torment by causing torment in others. But in this\nway a man gradually develops in himself real cruelty and malice. The\nobservation may also be added that as, according to Kant, matter\nsubsists only through the antagonism of the powers of expansion and\ncontraction, so human society subsists only by the antagonism of\nhatred, or anger, and fear. For there is a moment in the life of\nall of us when the malignity of our nature might perhaps make us\nmurderers, if it were not accompanied by a due admixture of fear to\nkeep it within bounds; and this fear, again, would make a man the\nsport and laughing stock of every boy, if anger were not lying ready\nin him, and keeping watch.\n\nBut it is _Schadenfreude_, a mischievous delight in the misfortunes of\nothers, which remains the worst trait in human nature. It is a feeling\nwhich is closely akin to cruelty, and differs from it, to say the\ntruth, only as theory from practice. In general, it may be said of it\nthat it takes the place which pity ought to take--pity which is its\nopposite, and the true source of all real justice and charity.\n\n_Envy_ is also opposed to pity, but in another sense; envy, that is\nto say, is produced by a cause directly antagonistic to that which\nproduces the delight in mischief. The opposition between pity and envy\non the one hand, and pity and the delight in mischief on the other,\nrests, in the main, on the occasions which call them forth. In the\ncase of envy it is only as a direct effect of the cause which excites\nit that we feel it at all. That is just the reason why envy, although\nit is a reprehensible feeling, still admits of some excuse, and is,\nin general, a very human quality; whereas the delight in mischief is\ndiabolical, and its taunts are the laughter of hell.\n\nThe delight in mischief, as I have said, takes the place which pity\nought to take. Envy, on the contrary, finds a place only where there\nis no inducement to pity, or rather an inducement to its opposite; and\nit is just as this opposite that envy arises in the human breast; and\nso far, therefore, it may still be reckoned a human sentiment. Nay, I\nam afraid that no one will be found to be entirely free from it. For\nthat a man should feel his own lack of things more bitterly at the\nsight of another's delight in the enjoyment of them, is natural; nay,\nit is inevitable; but this should not rouse his hatred of the man who\nis happier than himself. It is just this hatred, however, in which\ntrue envy consists. Least of all should a man be envious, when it is a\nquestion, not of the gifts of fortune, or chance, or another's favour,\nbut of the gifts of nature; because everything that is innate in a man\nrests on a metaphysical basis, and possesses justification of a higher\nkind; it is, so to speak, given him by Divine grace. But, unhappily,\nit is just in the case of personal advantages that envy is most\nirreconcilable. Thus it is that intelligence, or even genius, cannot\nget on in the world without begging pardon for its existence, wherever\nit is not in a position to be able, proudly and boldly, to despise the\nworld.\n\nIn other words, if envy is aroused only by wealth, rank, or power,\nit is often kept down by egoism, which perceives that, on occasion,\nassistance, enjoyment, support, protection, advancement, and so\non, may be hoped for from the object of envy or that at least by\nintercourse with him a man may himself win honour from the reflected\nlight of his superiority; and here, too, there is the hope of one day\nattaining all those advantages himself. On the other hand, in the envy\nthat is directed to natural gifts and personal advantages, like beauty\nin women, or intelligence in men, there is no consolation or hope of\none kind or the other; so that nothing remains but to indulge a\nbitter and irreconcilable hatred of the person who possesses these\nprivileges; and hence the only remaining desire is to take vengeance\non him.\n\nBut here the envious man finds himself in an unfortunate position; for\nall his blows fall powerless as soon as it is known that they come\nfrom him. Accordingly he hides his feelings as carefully as if they\nwere secret sins, and so becomes an inexhaustible inventor of tricks\nand artifices and devices for concealing and masking his procedure,\nin order that, unperceived, he may wound the object of his envy. For\ninstance, with an air of the utmost unconcern he will ignore the\nadvantages which are eating his heart out; he will neither see them,\nnor know them, nor have observed or even heard of them, and thus make\nhimself a master in the art of dissimulation. With great cunning he\nwill completely overlook the man whose brilliant qualities are gnawing\nat his heart, and act as though he were quite an unimportant person;\nhe will take no notice of him, and, on occasion, will have even quite\nforgotten his existence. But at the same time he will before all\nthings endeavour by secret machination carefully to deprive those\nadvantages of any opportunity of showing themselves and becoming\nknown. Then out of his dark corner he will attack these qualities with\ncensure, mockery, ridicule and calumny, like the toad which spurts\nits poison from a hole. No less will he enthusiastically praise\nunimportant people, or even indifferent or bad performances in the\nsame sphere. In short, he will becomes a Proteas in stratagem, in\norder to wound others without showing himself. But what is the use\nof it? The trained eye recognises him in spite of it all. He betrays\nhimself, if by nothing else, by the way in which he timidly avoids\nand flies from the object of his envy, who stands the more completely\nalone, the more brilliant he is; and this is the reason why pretty\ngirls have no friends of their own sex. He betrays himself, too, by\nthe causeless hatred which he shows--a hatred which finds vent in a\nviolent explosion at any circumstance however trivial, though it is\noften only the product of his imagination. How many such men there are\nin the world may be recognised by the universal praise of modesty,\nthat is, of a virtue invented on behalf of dull and commonplace\npeople. Nevertheless, it is a virtue which, by exhibiting the\nnecessity for dealing considerately with the wretched plight of these\npeople, is just what calls attention to it.\n\nFor our self-consciousness and our pride there can be nothing more\nflattering than the sight of envy lurking in its retreat and plotting\nits schemes; but never let a man forget that where there is envy there\nis hatred, and let him be careful not to make a false friend out of\nany envious person. Therefore it is important to our safety to lay\nenvy bare; and a man should study to discover its tricks, as it is\neverywhere to be found and always goes about _incognito_; or as I\nhave said, like a venomous toad it lurks in dark corners. It deserves\nneither quarter nor sympathy; but as we can never reconcile it let our\nrule of conduct be to scorn it with a good heart, and as our happiness\nand glory is torture to it we may rejoice in its sufferings:\n\n  _Den Neid wirst nimmer du vers\u00f6hnen;\n  So magst du ihn getrost verh\u00f6hnen.\n  Dein Gl\u00fcck, dein Ruhm ist ihm ein Leiden:\n  Magst drum an seiner Quaal dich weiden_.\n\nWe have been taking a look at the _depravity_ of man, and it is a\nsight which may well fill us with horror. But now we must cast our\neyes on the _misery_ of his existence; and when we have done so, and\nare horrified by that too, we must look back again at his depravity.\nWe shall then find that they hold the balance to each other. We shall\nperceive the eternal justice of things; for we shall recognise that\nthe world is itself the Last Judgment on it, and we shall begin to\nunderstand why it is that everything that lives must pay the penalty\nof its existence, first in living and then in dying. Thus the evil\nof the penalty accords with the evil of the sin--_malum poenae_ with\n_malum culpae_. From the same point of view we lose our indignation at\nthat intellectual incapacity of the great majority of mankind which in\nlife so often disgusts us. In this _Sansara_, as the Buddhists call\nit, human misery, human depravity and human folly correspond with one\nanother perfectly, and they are of like magnitude. But if, on some\nspecial inducement, we direct our gaze to one of them, and survey it\nin particular, it seems to exceed the other two. This, however, is an\nillusion, and merely the effect of their colossal range.\n\nAll things proclaim this _Sansara_; more than all else, the world of\nmankind; in which, from a moral point of view, villainy and baseness,\nand from an intellectual point of view, incapacity and stupidity,\nprevail to a horrifying extent. Nevertheless, there appear in\nit, although very spasmodically, and always as a fresh surprise,\nmanifestations of honesty, of goodness, nay, even of nobility; and\nalso of great intelligence, of the thinking mind of genius. They never\nquite vanish, but like single points of light gleam upon us out of the\ngreat dark mass. We must accept them as a pledge that this _Sansara_\ncontains a good and redeeming principle, which is capable of breaking\nthrough and of filling and freeing the whole of it.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe readers of my _Ethics_ know that with me the ultimate foundation\nof morality is the truth which in the _Vedas_ and the _Vedanta_\nreceives its expression in the established, mystical formula, _Tat\ntwam asi (This is thyself_), which is spoken with reference to every\nliving thing, be it man or beast, and is called the _Mahavakya_, the\ngreat word.\n\nActions which proceed in accordance with this principle, such as those\nof the philanthropist, may indeed be regarded as the beginning of\nmysticism. Every benefit rendered with a pure intention proclaims that\nthe man who exercises it acts in direct conflict with the world of\nappearance; for he recognises himself as identical with another\nindividual, who exists in complete separation from him. Accordingly,\nall disinterested kindness is inexplicable; it is a mystery; and hence\nin order to explain it a man has to resort to all sorts of fictions.\nWhen Kant had demolished all other arguments for theism, he admitted\none only, that it gave the best interpretation and solution of such\nmysterious actions, and of all others like them. He therefore allowed\nit to stand as a presumption unsusceptible indeed of theoretical\nproof, but valid from a practical point of view. I may, however,\nexpress my doubts whether he was quite serious about it. For to make\nmorality rest on theism is really to reduce morality to egoism;\nalthough the English, it is true, as also the lowest classes of\nsociety with us, do not perceive the possibility of any other\nfoundation for it.\n\nThe above-mentioned recognition of a man's own true being in\nanother individual objectively presented to him, is exhibited in a\nparticularly beautiful and clear way in the cases in which a man,\nalready destined to death beyond any hope of rescue, gives himself up\nto the welfare of others with great solicitude and zeal, and tries to\nsave them. Of this kind is the well-known story of a servant who was\nbitten in a courtyard at night by a mad dog. In the belief that she\nwas beyond hope, she seized the dog and dragged it into a stable,\nwhich she then locked, so that no one else might be bitten. Then again\nthere is the incident in Naples, which Tischbein has immortalised in\none of his _aquarelles_. A son, fleeing from the lava which is rapidly\nstreaming toward the sea, is carrying his aged father on his back.\nWhen there is only a narrow strip of land left between the devouring\nelements, the father bids the son put him down, so that the son may\nsave himself by flight, as otherwise both will be lost. The son obeys,\nand as he goes casts a glance of farewell on his father. This is the\nmoment depicted. The historical circumstance which Scott represents\nin his masterly way in _The Heart of Midlothian_, chap, ii., is of a\nprecisely similar kind; where, of two delinquents condemned to death,\nthe one who by his awkwardness caused the capture of the other happily\nsets him free in the chapel by overpowering the guard after the\nexecution-sermon, without at the same time making any attempt on his\nown behalf. Nay, in the same category must also be placed the scene\nwhich is represented in a common engraving, which may perhaps be\nobjectionable to western readers--I mean the one in which a soldier,\nkneeling to be shot, is trying by waving a cloth to frighten away his\ndog who wants to come to him.\n\nIn all these cases we see an individual in the face of his own\nimmediate and certain destruction no longer thinking of saving\nhimself, so that he may direct the whole of his efforts to saving some\none else. How could there be a clearer expression of the consciousness\nthat what is being destroyed is only a phenomenon, and that the\ndestruction itself is only a phenomenon; that, on the other hand, the\nreal being of the man who meets his death is untouched by that event,\nand lives on in the other man, in whom even now, as his action\nbetrays, he so clearly perceives it to exist? For if this were not so,\nand it was his real being which was about to be annihilated, how could\nthat being spend its last efforts in showing such an ardent sympathy\nin the welfare and continued existence of another?\n\nThere are two different ways in which a man may become conscious\nof his own existence. On the one hand, he may have an empirical\nperception of it, as it manifests itself externally--something so\nsmall that it approaches vanishing point; set in a world which, as\nregards time and space, is infinite; one only of the thousand millions\nof human creatures who run about on this planet for a very brief\nperiod and are renewed every thirty years. On the other hand, by going\ndown into the depths of his own nature, a man may become conscious\nthat he is all in all; that, in fact, he is the only real being; and\nthat, in addition, this real being perceives itself again in others,\nwho present themselves from without, as though they formed a mirror of\nhimself.\n\nOf these two ways in which a man may come to know what he is, the\nfirst grasps the phenomenon alone, the mere product of _the principle\nof individuation_; whereas the second makes a man immediately\nconscious that he is _the thing-in-itself_. This is a doctrine in\nwhich, as regards the first way, I have Kant, and as regards both, I\nhave the _Vedas_, to support me.\n\nThere is, it is true, a simple objection to the second method. It may\nbe said to assume that one and the same being can exist in different\nplaces at the same time, and yet be complete in each of them.\nAlthough, from an empirical point of view, this is the most palpable\nimpossibility--nay, absurdity--it is nevertheless perfectly true\nof the thing-in-itself. The impossibility and the absurdity of it,\nempirically, are only due to the forms which phenomena assume,\nin accordance with the principle of individuation. For the\nthing-in-itself, the will to live, exists whole and undivided in every\nbeing, even in the smallest, as completely as in the sum-total of all\nthings that ever were or are or will be. This is why every being, even\nthe smallest, says to itself, So long as I am safe, let the world\nperish--_dum ego salvus sim, pereat mundus_. And, in truth, even if\nonly one individual were left in the world, and all the rest were to\nperish, the one that remained would still possess the whole self-being\nof the world, uninjured and undiminished, and would laugh at the\ndestruction of the world as an illusion. This conclusion _per\nimpossible_ may be balanced by the counter-conclusion, which is on all\nfours with it, that if that last individual were to be annihilated in\nand with him the whole world would be destroyed. It was in this sense\nthat the mystic Angelas Silesius[1] declared that God could not live\nfor a moment without him, and that if he were to be annihilated God\nmust of necessity give up the ghost:\n\n  _Ich weiss dass ohne mich Gott nicht ein Nu kann leben;\n  Werd' ich zunicht, er muss von Noth den Geist aufgeben_.\n\n[Footnote 1: _Translator's Note_.--Angelus Silesius, see _Counsels and\nMaxims_, p. 39, note.]\n\nBut the empirical point of view also to some extent enables us to\nperceive that it is true, or at least possible, that our self can\nexist in other beings whose consciousness is separated and different\nfrom our own. That this is so is shown by the experience of\nsomnambulists. Although the identity of their ego is preserved\nthroughout, they know nothing, when they awake, of all that a moment\nbefore they themselves said, did or suffered. So entirely is the\nindividual consciousness a phenomenon that even in the same ego two\nconsciousnesses can arise of which the one knows nothing of the other.\n\n\n\n\nGOVERNMENT.\n\n\nIt is a characteristic failing of the Germans to look in the clouds\nfor what lies at their feet. An excellent example of this is furnished\nby the treatment which the idea of _Natural Right_ has received at\nthe hands of professors of philosophy. When they are called upon\nto explain those simple relations of human life which make up the\nsubstance of this right, such as Right and Wrong, Property, State,\nPunishment and so on, they have recourse to the most extravagant,\nabstract, remote and meaningless conceptions, and out of them build a\nTower of Babel reaching to the clouds, and taking this or that form\naccording to the special whim of the professor for the time being. The\nclearest and simplest relations of life, such as affect us directly,\nare thus made quite unintelligible, to the great detriment of the\nyoung people who are educated in such a school. These relations\nthemselves are perfectly simple and easily understood--as the reader\nmay convince himself if he will turn to the account which I have given\nof them in the _Foundation of Morality_, \u00a7 17, and in my chief work,\nbk. i., \u00a7 62. But at the sound of certain words, like Right, Freedom,\nthe Good, Being--this nugatory infinitive of the cupola--and many\nothers of the same sort, the German's head begins to swim, and falling\nstraightway into a kind of delirium he launches forth into high-flown\nphrases which have no meaning whatever. He takes the most remote and\nempty conceptions, and strings them together artificially, instead of\nfixing his eyes on the facts, and looking at things and relations as\nthey really are. It is these things and relations which supply the\nideas of Right and Freedom, and give them the only true meaning that\nthey possess.\n\nThe man who starts from the preconceived opinion that the conception\nof Right must be a positive one, and then attempts to define it, will\nfail; for he is trying to grasp a shadow, to pursue a spectre, to\nsearch for what does not exist. The conception of Right is a negative\none, like the conception of Freedom; its content is mere negation.\nIt is the conception of Wrong which is positive; Wrong has the same\nsignificance as _injury_--_laesio_--in the widest sense of the term.\nAn injury may be done either to a man's person or to his property or\nto his honour; and accordingly a man's rights are easy to define:\nevery one has a right to do anything that injures no one else.\n\nTo have a right to do or claim a thing means nothing more than to be\nable to do or take or vise it without thereby injuring any one else.\n_Simplex sigillum veri_. This definition shows how senseless many\nquestions are; for instance, the question whether we have the right to\ntake our own life, As far as concerns the personal claims which others\nmay possibly have upon us, they are subject to the condition that we\nare alive, and fall to the ground when we die. To demand of a man, who\ndoes not care to live any longer for himself, that he should live\non as a mere machine for the advantage of others is an extravagant\npretension.\n\nAlthough men's powers differ, their rights are alike. Their rights do\nnot rest upon their powers, because Right is of a moral complexion;\nthey rest on the fact that the same will to live shows itself in\nevery man at the same stage of its manifestation. This, however, only\napplies to that original and abstract Right, which a man possesses as\na man. The property, and also the honour, which a man acquires for\nhimself by the exercise of his powers, depend on the measure and kind\nof power which he possesses, and so lend his Right a wider sphere of\napplication. Here, then, equality comes to an end. The man who is\nbetter equipped, or more active, increases by adding to his gains, not\nhis Right, but the number of the things to which it extends.\n\nIn my chief work[1] I have proved that the State in its essence is\nmerely an institution existing for the purpose of protecting its\nmembers against outward attack or inward dissension. It follows from\nthis that the ultimate ground on which the State is necessary is the\nacknowledged lack of Right in the human race. If Right were there, no\none would think of a State; for no one would have any fear that his\nrights would be impaired; and a mere union against the attacks of wild\nbeasts or the elements would have very little analogy with what we\nmean by a State. From this point of view it is easy to see how dull\nand stupid are the philosophasters who in pompous phrases represent\nthat the State is the supreme end and flower of human existence. Such\na view is the apotheosis of Philistinism.\n\n[Footnote 1: 1 Bk. ii., ch. xlvii.]\n\nIf it were Right that ruled in the world, a man would have done enough\nin building his house, and would need no other protection than the\nright of possessing it, which would be obvious. But since Wrong is the\norder of the day, it is requisite that the man who has built his house\nshould also be able to protect it. Otherwise his Right is _de\nfacto_ incomplete; the aggressor, that is to say, has the right of\nmight--_Faustrecht_; and this is just the conception of Right\nwhich Spinoza entertains. He recognises no other. His words are:\n_unusquisque tantum juris habet quantum potentia valet_;[1] each man\nhas as much right as he has power. And again: _uniuscujusque jus\npotentia ejus definitur_; each man's right is determined by his\npower.[2] Hobbes seems to have started this conception of Right,[3]\nand he adds the strange comment that the Right of the good Lord to all\nthings rests on nothing but His omnipotence.\n\n[Footnote 1: _Tract. Theol. Pol_., ch. ii., \u00a7 8.]\n\n[Footnote 2: _Ethics_, IV., xxxvii., 1.]\n\n[Footnote 3: Particularly in a passage in the _De Cive_, I, \u00a7 14.]\n\nNow this is a conception of Right which, both in theory and in\npractice, no longer prevails in the civic world; but in the world\nin general, though abolished in theory, it continues to apply in\npractice. The consequences of neglecting it may be seen in the case\nof China. Threatened by rebellion within and foes without, this great\nempire is in a defenceless state, and has to pay the penalty of having\ncultivated only the arts of peace and ignored the arts of war.\n\nThere is a certain analogy between the operations of nature and those\nof man which is a peculiar but not fortuitous character, and is based\non the identity of the will in both. When the herbivorous animals had\ntaken their place in the organic world, beasts of prey made their\nappearance--necessarily a late appearance--in each species, and\nproceeded to live upon them. Just in the same way, as soon as by\nhonest toil and in the sweat of their faces men have won from the\nground what is needed for the support of their societies, a number of\nindividuals are sure to arise in some of these societies, who, instead\nof cultivating the earth and living on its produce, prefer to take\ntheir lives in their hands and risk health and freedom by falling upon\nthose who are in possession of what they have honestly earned, and by\nappropriating the fruits of their labour. These are the beasts of\nprey in the human race; they are the conquering peoples whom we find\neverywhere in history, from the most ancient to the most recent times.\nTheir varying fortunes, as at one moment they succeed and at another\nfail, make up the general elements of the history of the world. Hence\nVoltaire was perfectly right when he said that the aim of all war is\nrobbery. That those who engage in it are ashamed of their doings is\nclear by the fact that governments loudly protest their reluctance to\nappeal to arms except for purposes of self-defence. Instead of trying\nto excuse themselves by telling public and official lies, which are\nalmost more revolting than war itself, they should take their stand,\nas bold as brass, on Macchiavelli's doctrine. The gist of it may be\nstated to be this: that whereas between one individual and another,\nand so far as concerns the law and morality of their relations,\nthe principle, _Don't do to others what you wouldn't like done to\nyourself_, certainly applies, it is the converse of this principle\nwhich is appropriate in the case of nations and in politics: _What you\nwouldn't like done to yourself do to others_. If you do not want to\nbe put under a foreign yoke, take time by the forelock, and put your\nneighbour under it himself; whenever, that is to say, his weakness\noffers you the opportunity. For if you let the opportunity pass, it\nwill desert one day to the enemy's camp and offer itself there. Then\nyour enemy will put you under his yoke; and your failure to grasp the\nopportunity may be paid for, not by the generation which was guilty of\nit, but by the next. This Macchiavellian principle is always a much\nmore decent cloak for the lust of robbery than the rags of very\nobvious lies in a speech from the head of the State; lies, too, of a\ndescription which recalls the well-known story of the rabbit attacking\nthe dog. Every State looks upon its neighbours as at bottom a horde of\nrobbers, who will fall upon it as soon as they have the opportunity.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBetween the serf, the farmer, the tenant, and the mortgagee, the\ndifference is rather one of form than of substance. Whether the\npeasant belongs to me, or the land on which he has to get a living;\nwhether the bird is mine, or its food, the tree or its fruit, is a\nmatter of little moment; for, as Shakespeare makes Shylock say:\n\n                              _You take my life\n  When you do take the means whereby I live_.\n\nThe free peasant has, indeed, the advantage that he can go off and\nseek his fortune in the wide world; whereas the serf who is attached\nto the soil, _glebae adscriptus_, has an advantage which is perhaps\nstill greater, that when failure of crops or illness, old age or\nincapacity, render him helpless, his master must look after him, and\nso he sleeps well at night; whereas, if the crops fail, his master\ntosses about on his bed trying to think how he is to procure bread for\nhis men. As long ago as Menander it was said that it is better to\nbe the slave of a good master than to live miserably as a freeman.\nAnother advantage possessed by the free is that if they have any\ntalents they can improve their position; but the same advantage is not\nwholly withheld from the slave. If he proves himself useful to his\nmaster by the exercise of any skill, he is treated accordingly; just\nas in ancient Rome mechanics, foremen of workshops, architects, nay,\neven doctors, were generally slaves.\n\nSlavery and poverty, then, are only two forms, I might almost say only\ntwo names, of the same thing, the essence of which is that a man's\nphysical powers are employed, in the main, not for himself but for\nothers; and this leads partly to his being over-loaded with work, and\npartly to his getting a scanty satisfaction for his needs. For Nature\nhas given a man only as much physical power as will suffice, if he\nexerts it in moderation, to gain a sustenance from the earth. No great\nsuperfluity of power is his. If, then, a not inconsiderable number of\nmen are relieved from the common burden of sustaining the existence\nof the human race, the burden of the remainder is augmented, and they\nsuffer. This is the chief source of the evil which under the name of\nslavery, or under the name of the proletariat, has always oppressed\nthe great majority of the human race.\n\nBut the more remote cause of it is luxury. In order, it may be said,\nthat some few persons may have what is unnecessary, superfluous,\nand the product of refinement--nay, in order that they may satisfy\nartificial needs--a great part of the existing powers of mankind\nhas to be devoted to this object, and therefore withdrawn from the\nproduction of what is necessary and indispensable. Instead of building\ncottages for themselves, thousands of men build mansions for a few.\nInstead of weaving coarse materials for themselves and their families,\nthey make fine cloths, silk, or even lace, for the rich, and in\ngeneral manufacture a thousand objects of luxury for their pleasure. A\ngreat part of the urban population consists of workmen who make these\narticles of luxury; and for them and those who give them work the\npeasants have to plough and sow and look after the flocks as well\nas for themselves, and thus have more labour than Nature originally\nimposed upon them. Moreover, the urban population devotes a great deal\nof physical strength, and a great deal of land, to such things as\nwine, silk, tobacco, hops, asparagus and so on, instead of to corn,\npotatoes and cattle-breeding. Further, a number of men are withdrawn\nfrom agriculture and employed in ship-building and seafaring, in order\nthat sugar, coffee, tea and other goods may be imported. In short,\na large part of the powers of the human race is taken away from the\nproduction of what is necessary, in order to bring what is superfluous\nand unnecessary within the reach of a few. As long therefore as luxury\nexists, there must be a corresponding amount of over-work and misery,\nwhether it takes the name of poverty or of slavery. The fundamental\ndifference between the two is that slavery originates in violence,\nand poverty in craft. The whole unnatural condition of society--the\nuniversal struggle to escape from misery, the sea-trade attended with\nso much loss of life, the complicated interests of commerce, and\nfinally the wars to which it all gives rise--is due, only and alone,\nto luxury, which gives no happiness even to those who enjoy it, nay,\nmakes them ill and bad-tempered. Accordingly it looks as if the most\neffective way of alleviating human misery would be to diminish luxury,\nor even abolish it altogether.\n\nThere is unquestionably much truth in this train of thought. But the\nconclusion at which it arrives is refuted by an argument possessing\nthis advantage over it--that it is confirmed by the testimony of\nexperience. A certain amount of work is devoted to purposes of luxury.\nWhat the human race loses in this way in the _muscular power_ which\nwould otherwise be available for the necessities of existence is\ngradually made up to it a thousandfold by the _nervous power_, which,\nin a chemical sense, is thereby released. And since the intelligence\nand sensibility which are thus promoted are on a higher level than the\nmuscular irritability which they supplant, so the achievements of mind\nexceed those of the body a thousandfold. One wise counsel is worth the\nwork of many hands:\n\n  [Greek: Hos en sophon bouleuma tas pollon cheiras nika.]\n\nA nation of nothing but peasants would do little in the way of\ndiscovery and invention; but idle hands make active heads. Science and\nthe Arts are themselves the children of luxury, and they discharge\ntheir debt to it. The work which they do is to perfect technology in\nall its branches, mechanical, chemical and physical; an art which in\nour days has brought machinery to a pitch never dreamt of before, and\nin particular has, by steam and electricity, accomplished things the\nlike of which would, in earlier ages, have been ascribed to the agency\nof the devil. In manufactures of all kinds, and to some extent in\nagriculture, machines now do a thousand times more than could ever\nhave been done by the hands of all the well-to-do, educated, and\nprofessional classes, and could ever have been attained if all luxury\nhad been abolished and every one had returned to the life of a\npeasant. It is by no means the rich alone, but all classes, who derive\nbenefit from these industries. Things which in former days hardly\nany one could afford are now cheap and abundant, and even the lowest\nclasses are much better off in point of comfort. In the Middle Ages a\nKing of England once borrowed a pair of silk stockings from one of his\nlords, so that he might wear them in giving an audience to the French\nambassador. Even Queen Elizabeth was greatly pleased and astonished to\nreceive a pair as a New Year's present; to-day every shopman has them.\nFifty years ago ladies wore the kind of calico gowns which servants\nwear now. If mechanical science continues to progress at the same\nrate for any length of time, it may end by saving human labour almost\nentirely, just as horses are even now being largely superseded by\nmachines. For it is possible to conceive that intellectual culture\nmight in some degree become general in the human race; and this would\nbe impossible as long as bodily labour was incumbent on any great part\nof it. Muscular irritability and nervous sensibility are always and\neverywhere, both generally and particularly, in antagonism; for the\nsimple reason that it is one and the same vital power which underlies\nboth. Further, since the arts have a softening effect on character, it\nis possible that quarrels great and small, wars and duels, will vanish\nfrom the world; just as both have become much rarer occurrences.\nHowever, it is not my object here to write a _Utopia_.\n\nBut apart from all this the arguments used above in favour of the\nabolition of luxury and the uniform distribution of all bodily labour\nare open to the objection that the great mass of mankind, always and\neverywhere, cannot do without leaders, guides and counsellors, in\none shape or another, according to the matter in question; judges,\ngovernors, generals, officials, priests, doctors, men of learning,\nphilosophers, and so on, are all a necessity. Their common task is to\nlead the race for the greater part so incapable and perverse, through\nthe labyrinth of life, of which each of them according to his position\nand capacity has obtained a general view, be his range wide or narrow.\nThat these guides of the race should be permanently relieved of all\nbodily labour as well as of all vulgar need and discomfort; nay,\nthat in proportion to their much greater achievements they should\nnecessarily own and enjoy more than the common man, is natural and\nreasonable. Great merchants should also be included in the same\nprivileged class, whenever they make far-sighted preparations for\nnational needs.\n\nThe question of the sovereignty of the people is at bottom the same\nas the question whether any man can have an original right to rule\na people against its will. How that proposition can be reasonably\nmaintained I do not see. The people, it must be admitted, is\nsovereign; but it is a sovereign who is always a minor. It must have\npermanent guardians, and it can never exercise its rights itself,\nwithout creating dangers of which no one can foresee the end;\nespecially as like all minors, it is very apt to become the sport of\ndesigning sharpers, in the shape of what are called demagogues.\n\nVoltaire remarks that the first man to become a king was a successful\nsoldier. It is certainly the case that all princes were originally\nvictorious leaders of armies, and for a long time it was as such that\nthey bore sway. On the rise of standing armies princes began to regard\ntheir people as a means of sustaining themselves and their soldiers,\nand treated them, accordingly, as though they were a herd of cattle,\nwhich had to be tended in order that it might provide wool, milk, and\nmeat. The why and wherefore of all this, as I shall presently show in\ndetail, is the fact that originally it was not right, but might, that\nruled in the world. Might has the advantage of having been the first\nin the field. That is why it is impossible to do away with it and\nabolish it altogether; it must always have its place; and all that a\nman can wish or ask is that it should be found on the side of right\nand associated with it. Accordingly says the prince to his subjects:\n\"I rule you in virtue of the power which I possess. But, on the other\nhand, it excludes that of any one else, and I shall suffer none but\nmy own, whether it comes from without, or arises within by one of you\ntrying to oppress another. In this way, then, you are protected.\" The\narrangement was carried out; and just because it was carried out the\nold idea of kingship developed with time and progress into quite a\ndifferent idea, and put the other one in the background, where it may\nstill be seen, now and then, flitting about like a spectre. Its place\nhas been taken by the idea of the king as father of his people, as\nthe firm and unshakable pillar which alone supports and maintains the\nwhole organisation of law and order, and consequently the rights\nof every man.[1] But a king can accomplish this only by inborn\nprerogative which reserves authority to him and to him alone--an\nauthority which is supreme, indubitable, and beyond all attack, nay,\nto which every one renders instinctive obedience. Hence the king is\nrightly said to rule \"by the grace of God.\" He is always the most\nuseful person in the State, and his services are never too dearly\nrepaid by any Civil List, however heavy.\n\n[Footnote 1: We read in Stobaeus, _Florilegium_, ch. xliv., 41, of a\nPersian custom, by which, whenever a king died, there was a five days'\nanarchy, in order that people might perceive the advantage of having\nkings and laws.]\n\nBut even as late a writer as Macchiavelli was so decidedly imbued with\nthe earlier or mediaeval conception of the position of a prince that\nhe treats it as a matter which is self-evident: he never discusses it,\nbut tacitly takes it as the presupposition and basis of his advice.\nIt may be said generally that his book is merely the theoretical\nstatement and consistent and systematic exposition of the practice\nprevailing in his time. It is the novel statement of it in a complete\ntheoretical form that lends it such a poignant interest. The same\nthing, I may remark in passing, applies to the immortal little work of\nLa Rochefaucauld, who, however, takes private and not public life for\nhis theme, and offers, not advice, but observations. The title of this\nfine little book is open, perhaps, to some objection: the contents are\nnot, as a rule, either _maxims_ or _reflections_, but _aper\u00e7us_;\nand that is what they should be called. There is much, too, in\nMacchiavelli that will be found also to apply to private life.\n\nRight in itself is powerless; in nature it is Might that rules. To\nenlist might on the side of right, so that by means of it right\nmay rule, is the problem of statesmanship. And it is indeed a hard\nproblem, as will be obvious if we remember that almost every human\nbreast is the seat of an egoism which has no limits, and is usually\nassociated with an accumulated store of hatred and malice; so that\nat the very start feelings of enmity largely prevail over those of\nfriendship. We have also to bear in mind that it is many millions of\nindividuals so constituted who have to be kept in the bonds of law\nand order, peace and tranquillity; whereas originally every one had\na right to say to every one else: _I am just as good as you are_! A\nconsideration of all this must fill us with surprise that on the whole\nthe world pursues its way so peacefully and quietly, and with so much\nlaw and order as we see to exist. It is the machinery of State which\nalone accomplishes it. For it is physical power alone which has any\ndirect action on men; constituted as they generally are, it is for\nphysical power alone that they have any feeling or respect.\n\nIf a man would convince himself by experience that this is the case,\nhe need do nothing but remove all compulsion from his fellows, and try\nto govern them by clearly and forcibly representing to them what\nis reasonable, right, and fair, though at the same time it may be\ncontrary to their interests. He would be laughed to scorn; and as\nthings go that is the only answer he would get. It would soon be\nobvious to him that moral force alone is powerless. It is, then,\nphysical force alone which is capable of securing respect. Now this\nforce ultimately resides in the masses, where it is associated with\nignorance, stupidity and injustice. Accordingly the main aim of\nstatesmanship in these difficult circumstances is to put physical\nforce in subjection to mental force--to intellectual superiority, and\nthus to make it serviceable. But if this aim is not itself accompanied\nby justice and good intentions the result of the business, if it\nsucceeds, is that the State so erected consists of knaves and fools,\nthe deceivers and the deceived. That this is the case is made\ngradually evident by the progress of intelligence amongst the masses,\nhowever much it may be repressed; and it leads to revolution. But\nif, contrarily, intelligence is accompanied by justice and good\nintentions, there arises a State as perfect as the character of human\naffairs will allow. It is very much to the purpose if justice and\ngood intentions not only exist, but are also demonstrable and openly\nexhibited, and can be called to account publicly, and be subject to\ncontrol. Care must be taken, however, lest the resulting participation\nof many persons in the work of government should affect the unity of\nthe State, and inflict a loss of strength and concentration on the\npower by which its home and foreign affairs have to be administered.\nThis is what almost always happens in republics. To produce a\nconstitution which should satisfy all these demands would accordingly\nbe the highest aim of statesmanship. But, as a matter of fact,\nstatesmanship has to consider other things as well. It has to reckon\nwith the people as they exist, and their national peculiarities. This\nis the raw material on which it has to work, and the ingredients of\nthat material will always exercise a great effect on the completed\nscheme.\n\nStatesmanship will have achieved a good deal if it so far attains its\nobject as to reduce wrong and injustice in the community to a minimum.\nTo banish them altogether, and to leave no trace of them, is merely\nthe ideal to be aimed at; and it is only approximately that it can be\nreached. If they disappear in one direction, they creep in again in\nanother; for wrong and injustice lie deeply rooted in human nature.\nAttempts have been made to attain the desired aim by artificial\nconstitutions and systematic codes of law; but they are not in\ncomplete touch with the facts--they remain an asymptote, for the\nsimple reason that hard and fast conceptions never embrace all\npossible cases, and cannot be made to meet individual instances. Such\nconceptions resemble the stones of a mosaic rather than the delicate\nshading in a picture. Nay, more: all experiments in this matter are\nattended with danger; because the material in question, namely, the\nhuman race, is the most difficult of all material to handle. It is\nalmost as dangerous as an explosive.\n\nNo doubt it is true that in the machinery of the State the freedom\nof the press performs the same function as a safety-valve in other\nmachinery; for it enables all discontent to find a voice; nay, in\ndoing so, the discontent exhausts itself if it has not much substance;\nand if it has, there is an advantage in recognising it betimes\nand applying the remedy. This is much better than to repress the\ndiscontent, and let it simmer and ferment, and go on increasing until\nit ends in an explosion. On the other hand, the freedom of the press\nmay be regarded as a permission to sell poison--poison for the heart\nand the mind. There is no idea so foolish but that it cannot be put\ninto the heads of the ignorant and incapable multitude, especially if\nthe idea holds out some prospect of any gain or advantage. And when a\nman has got hold of any such idea what is there that he will not do?\nI am, therefore, very much afraid that the danger of a free press\noutweighs its utility, particularly where the law offers a way of\nredressing wrongs. In any case, however, the freedom of the press\nshould be governed by a very strict prohibition of all and every\nanonymity.\n\nGenerally, indeed, it may be maintained that right is of a nature\nanalogous to that of certain chemical substances, which cannot be\nexhibited in a pure and isolated condition, but at the most only with\na small admixture of some other substance, which serves as a vehicle\nfor them, or gives them the necessary consistency; such as fluorine,\nor even alcohol, or prussic acid. Pursuing the analogy we may say that\nright, if it is to gain a footing in the world and really prevail,\nmust of necessity be supplemented by a small amount of arbitrary\nforce, in order that, notwithstanding its merely ideal and therefore\nethereal nature, it may be able to work and subsist in the real and\nmaterial world, and not evaporate and vanish into the clouds, as\nit does in Hesoid. Birth-right of every description, all heritable\nprivileges, every form of national religion, and so on, may be\nregarded as the necessary chemical base or alloy; inasmuch as it is\nonly when right has some such firm and actual foundation that it can\nbe enforced and consistently vindicated. They form for right a sort of\n[Greek: os moi pou sto]--a fulcrum for supporting its lever.\n\nLinnaeus adopted a vegetable system of an artificial and arbitrary\ncharacter. It cannot be replaced by a natural one, no matter how\nreasonable the change might be, or how often it has been attempted to\nmake it, because no other system could ever yield the same certainty\nand stability of definition. Just in the same way the artificial and\narbitrary basis on which, as has been shown, the constitution of\na State rests, can never be replaced by a purely natural basis. A\nnatural basis would aim at doing away with the conditions that have\nbeen mentioned: in the place of the privileges of birth it would put\nthose of personal merit; in the place of the national religion, the\nresults of rationalistic inquiry, and so on. However agreeable to\nreason this might all prove, the change could not be made; because a\nnatural basis would lack that certainty and fixity of definition which\nalone secures the stability of the commonwealth. A constitution which\nembodied abstract right alone would be an excellent thing for natures\nother than human, but since the great majority of men are extremely\negoistic, unjust, inconsiderate, deceitful, and sometimes even\nmalicious; since in addition they are endowed with very scanty\nintelligence there arises the necessity for a power that shall be\nconcentrated in one man, a power that shall be above all law and\nright, and be completely irresponsible, nay, to which everything shall\nyield as to something that is regarded as a creature of a higher\nkind, a ruler by the grace of God. It is only thus that men can be\npermanently held in check and governed.\n\nThe United States of North America exhibit the attempt to proceed\nwithout any such arbitrary basis; that is to say, to allow abstract\nright to prevail pure and unalloyed. But the result is not attractive.\nFor with all the material prosperity of the country what do we find?\nThe prevailing sentiment is a base Utilitarianism with its inevitable\ncompanion, ignorance; and it is this that has paved the way for a\nunion of stupid Anglican bigotry, foolish prejudice, coarse brutality,\nand a childish veneration of women. Even worse things are the order of\nthe day: most iniquitous oppression of the black freemen, lynch law,\nfrequent assassination often committed with entire impunity, duels of\na savagery elsewhere unknown, now and then open scorn of all law and\njustice, repudiation of public debts, abominable political rascality\ntowards a neighbouring State, followed by a mercenary raid on its rich\nterritory,--afterwards sought to be excused, on the part of the chief\nauthority of the State, by lies which every one in the country knew to\nbe such and laughed at--an ever-increasing ochlocracy, and finally\nall the disastrous influence which this abnegation of justice in high\nquarters must have exercised on private morals. This specimen of a\npure constitution on the obverse side of the planet says very little\nfor republics in general, but still less for the imitations of it in\nMexico, Guatemala, Colombia and Peru.\n\nA peculiar disadvantage attaching to republics--and one that might\nnot be looked for--is that in this form of government it must be more\ndifficult for men of ability to attain high position and exercise\ndirect political influence than in the case of monarchies. For always\nand everywhere and under all circumstances there is a conspiracy, or\ninstinctive alliance, against such men on the part of all the stupid,\nthe weak, and the commonplace; they look upon such men as their\nnatural enemies, and they are firmly held together by a common fear of\nthem. There is always a numerous host of the stupid and the weak,\nand in a republican constitution it is easy for them to suppress and\nexclude the men of ability, so that they may not be outflanked by\nthem. They are fifty to one; and here all have equal rights at the\nstart.\n\nIn a monarchy, on the other hand, this natural and universal league of\nthe stupid against those who are possessed of intellectual advantages\nis a one-sided affair; it exists only from below, for in a monarchy\ntalent and intelligence receive a natural advocacy and support from\nabove. In the first place, the position of the monarch himself is\nmuch too high and too firm for him to stand in fear of any sort of\ncompetition. In the next place, he serves the State more by his will\nthan by his intelligence; for no intelligence could ever be equal\nto all the demands that would in his case be made upon it. He is\ntherefore compelled to be always availing himself of other men's\nintelligence. Seeing that his own interests are securely bound up with\nthose of his country; that they are inseparable from them and one with\nthem, he will naturally give the preference to the best men, because\nthey are his most serviceable instruments, and he will bestow his\nfavour upon them--as soon, that is, as he can find them; which is not\nso difficult, if only an honest search be made. Just in the same\nway even ministers of State have too much advantage over rising\npoliticians to need to regard them with jealousy; and accordingly for\nanalogous reasons they are glad to single out distinguished men and\nset them to work, in order to make use of their powers for themselves.\nIt is in this way that intelligence has always under a monarchical\ngovernment a much better chance against its irreconcilable and\never-present foe, stupidity; and the advantage which it gains is very\ngreat.\n\nIn general, the monarchical form of government is that which is\nnatural to man; just as it is natural to bees and ants, to a flight of\ncranes, a herd of wandering elephants, a pack of wolves seeking prey\nin common, and many other animals, all of which place one of their\nnumber at the head of the business in hand. Every business in which\nmen engage, if it is attended with danger--every campaign, every\nship at sea--must also be subject to the authority of one commander;\neverywhere it is one will that must lead. Even the animal organism is\nconstructed on a monarchical principle: it is the brain alone which\nguides and governs, and exercises the hegemony. Although heart, lungs,\nand stomach contribute much more to the continued existence of the\nwhole body, these philistines cannot on that account be allowed to\nguide and lead. That is a business which belongs solely to the brain;\ngovernment must proceed from one central point. Even the solar system\nis monarchical. On the other hand, a republic is as unnatural as it\nis unfavourable to the higher intellectual life and the arts and\nsciences. Accordingly we find that everywhere in the world, and at all\ntimes, nations, whether civilised or savage, or occupying a position\nbetween the two, are always under monarchical government. The rule of\nmany as Homer said, is not a good thing: let there be one ruler, one\nking;\n\n  [Greek: Ouk agathon polykoiraniae-eis koiranos esto\n  Eis basoleus.] [1]\n\n[Footnote 1: _Iliad_, ii., 204.]\n\nHow would it be possible that, everywhere and at all times, we should\nsee many millions of people, nay, even hundreds of millions, become\nthe willing and obedient subjects of one man, sometimes even one\nwoman, and provisionally, even, of a child, unless there were a\nmonarchical instinct in men which drove them to it as the form of\ngovernment best suited to them? This arrangement is not the product\nof reflection. Everywhere one man is king, and for the most part his\ndignity is hereditary. He is, as it were, the personification, the\nmonogram, of the whole people, which attains an individuality in him.\nIn this sense he can rightly say: _l'etat c'est moi_. It is precisely\nfor this reason that in Shakespeare's historical plays the kings\nof England and France mutually address each other as _France_ and\n_England_, and the Duke of Austria goes by the name of his country. It\nis as though the kings regarded themselves as the incarnation of their\nnationalities. It is all in accordance with human nature; and for this\nvery reason the hereditary monarch cannot separate his own welfare and\nthat of his family from the welfare of his country; as, on the other\nhand, mostly happens when the monarch is elected, as, for instance, in\nthe States of the Church.[1] The Chinese can conceive of a monarchical\ngovernment only; what a republic is they utterly fail to understand.\nWhen a Dutch legation was in China in the year 1658, it was obliged to\nrepresent that the Prince of Orange was their king, as otherwise the\nChinese would have been inclined to take Holland for a nest of pirates\nliving without any lord or master.[2] Stobaeus, in a chapter in his\n_Florilegium_, at the head of which he wrote _That monarchy is best_,\ncollected the best of the passages in which the ancients explained\nthe advantages of that form of government. In a word, republics are\nunnatural and artificial; they are the product of reflection. Hence it\nis that they occur only as rare exceptions in the whole history of\nthe world. There were the small Greek republics, the Roman and the\nCarthaginian; but they were all rendered possible by the fact that\nfive-sixths, perhaps even seven-eighths, of the population consisted\nof slaves. In the year 1840, even in the United States, there were\nthree million slaves to a population of sixteen millions. Then, again,\nthe duration of the republics of antiquity, compared with that of\nmonarchies, was very short. Republics are very easy to found, and\nvery difficult to maintain, while with monarchies it is exactly the\nreverse. If it is Utopian schemes that are wanted, I say this: the\nonly solution of the problem would be a despotism of the wise and the\nnoble, of the true aristocracy and the genuine nobility, brought about\nby the method of generation--that is, by the marriage of the noblest\nmen with the cleverest and most intellectual women. This is my Utopia,\nmy Republic of Plato.\n\n[Footnote 1: _Translator's Note_.--The reader will recollect that\nSchopenhauer was writing long before the Papal territories were\nabsorbed into the kingdom of Italy.]\n\n[Footnote 2: See Jean Nieuhoff, _L'Ambassade de la Compagnie Orientale\ndes Provinces Unies vers L'Empereur de la Chine_, traduit par Jean le\nCharpentier \u00e0 Leyde, 1665; ch. 45.]\n\nConstitutional kings are undoubtedly in much the same position as\nthe gods of Epicurus, who sit upon high in undisturbed bliss and\ntranquillity, and do not meddle with human affairs. Just now they are\nthe fashion. In every German duodecimo-principality a parody of the\nEnglish constitution is set up, quite complete, from Upper and\nLower Houses down to the Habeas Corpus Act and trial by jury. These\ninstitutions, which proceed from English character and English\ncircumstances, and presuppose both, are natural and suitable to the\nEnglish people. It is just as natural to the German people to be split\nup into a number of different stocks, under a similar number of ruling\nPrinces, with an Emperor over them all, who maintains peace at home,\nand represents the unity of the State board. It is an arrangement\nwhich has proceeded from German character and German circumstances.\nI am of opinion that if Germany is not to meet with the same fate as\nItaly, it must restore the imperial crown, which was done away with\nby its arch-enemy, the first Napoleon; and it must restore it as\neffectively as possible. [1] For German unity depends on it, and\nwithout the imperial crown it will always be merely nominal, or\nprecarious. But as we no longer live in the days of G\u00fcnther of\nSchwarzburg, when the choice of Emperor was a serious business, the\nimperial crown ought to go alternately to Prussia and to Austria, for\nthe life of the wearer. In any case, the absolute sovereignty of the\nsmall States is illusory. Napoleon I. did for Germany what Otto the\nGreat did for Italy: he divided it into small, independent States, on\nthe principle, _divide et impera_.\n\n[Footnote 1: _Translator's Note_.--Here, again, it is hardly necessary\nto say that Schopenhauer, who died in 1860, and wrote this passage at\nleast some years previously, cannot be referring to any of the\nevents which culminated in 1870. The whole passage forms a striking\nillustration of his political sagacity.]\n\nThe English show their great intelligence, amongst other ways, by\nclinging to their ancient institutions, customs and usages, and by\nholding them sacred, even at the risk of carrying this tenacity too\nfar, and making it ridiculous. They hold them sacred for the simple\nreason that those institutions and customs are not the invention of an\nidle head, but have grown up gradually by the force of circumstance\nand the wisdom of life itself, and are therefore suited to them as a\nnation. On the other hand, the German Michel[1] allows himself to be\npersuaded by his schoolmaster that he must go about in an English\ndress-coat, and that nothing else will do. Accordingly he has bullied\nhis father into giving it to him; and with his awkward manners this\nungainly creature presents in it a sufficiently ridiculous figure. But\nthe dress-coat will some day be too tight for him and incommode him.\nIt will not be very long before he feels it in trial by jury. This\ninstitution arose in the most barbarous period of the Middle Ages--the\ntimes of Alfred the Great, when the ability to read and write exempted\na man from the penalty of death. It is the worst of all criminal\nprocedures. Instead of judges, well versed in law and of great\nexperience, who have grown grey in daily unravelling the tricks and\nwiles of thieves, murderers and rascals of all sorts, and so are well\nable to get at the bottom of things, it is gossiping tailors and\ntanners who sit in judgment; it is their coarse, crude, unpractised,\nand awkward intelligence, incapable of any sustained attention, that\nis called upon to find out the truth from a tissue of lies and deceit.\nAll the time, moreover, they are thinking of their cloth and their\nleather, and longing to be at home; and they have absolutely no clear\nnotion at all of the distinction between probability and certainty. It\nis with this sort of a calculus of probabilities in their stupid heads\nthat they confidently undertake to seal a man's doom.\n\n[Footnote 1: _Translator's Note_.--It may be well to explain that\n\"Michel\" is sometimes used by the Germans as a nickname of their\nnation, corresponding to \"John Bull\" as a nickname of the English.\nFl\u00fcgel in his German-English Dictionary declares that _der deutsche\nMichel_ represents the German nation as an honest, blunt, unsuspicious\nfellow, who easily allows himself to be imposed upon, even, he adds,\nwith a touch of patriotism, \"by those who are greatly his inferiors in\npoint of strength and real worth.\"]\n\nThe same remark is applicable to them which Dr. Johnson made of a\ncourt-martial in which he had little confidence, summoned to decide a\nvery important case. He said that perhaps there was not a member of\nit who, in the whole course of his life, had ever spent an hour by\nhimself in balancing probabilities.[1] Can any one imagine that the\ntailor and the tanner would be impartial judges? What! the vicious\nmultitude impartial! as if partiality were not ten times more to be\nfeared from men of the same class as the accused than from judges who\nknew nothing of him personally, lived in another sphere altogether,\nwere irremovable, and conscious of the dignity of their office. But\nto let a jury decide on crimes against the State and its head, or on\nmisdemeanours of the press, is in a very real sense to set the fox to\nkeep the geese.\n\n[Footnote 1: Boswell's _Johnson_, 1780, set. 71.]\n\nEverywhere and at all times there has been much discontent with\ngovernments, laws and public regulations; for the most part, however,\nbecause men are always ready to make institutions responsible for the\nmisery inseparable from human existence itself; which is, to speak\nmythically, the curse that was laid on Adam, and through him on the\nwhole race. But never has that delusion been proclaimed in a more\nmendacious and impudent manner than by the demagogues of the\n_Jetstzeit_--of the day we live in. As enemies of Christianity, they\nare, of course, optimists: to them the world is its own end and\nobject, and accordingly in itself, that is to say, in its own natural\nconstitution, it is arranged on the most excellent principles, and\nforms a regular habitation of bliss. The enormous and glaring evils of\nthe world they attribute wholly to governments: if governments, they\nthink, were to do their duty, there would be a heaven upon earth; in\nother words, all men could eat, drink, propagate and die, free from\ntrouble and want. This is what they mean when they talk of the world\nbeing \"its own end and object\"; this is the goal of that \"perpetual\nprogress of the human race,\" and the other fine things which they are\nnever tired of proclaiming.\n\nFormerly it was _faith_ which was the chief support of the throne;\nnowadays it is _credit_. The Pope himself is scarcely more concerned\nto retain the confidence of the faithful than to make his creditors\nbelieve in his own good faith. If in times past it was the guilty debt\nof the world which was lamented, now it is the financial debts of the\nworld which arouse dismay. Formerly it was the Last Day which was\nprophesied; now it is the [Greek: seisachtheia] the great repudiation,\nthe universal bankruptcy of the nations, which will one day happen;\nalthough the prophet, in this as in the other case, entertains a firm\nhope that he will not live to see it himself.\n\nFrom an ethical and a rational point of view, the _right of\npossession_ rests upon an incomparably better foundation than the\n_right of birth_; nevertheless, the right of possession is allied with\nthe right of birth and has come to be part and parcel of it, so that\nit would hardly be possible to abolish the right of birth without\nendangering the right of possession. The reason of this is that most\nof what a man possesses he inherited, and therefore holds by a kind of\nright of birth; just as the old nobility bear the names only of their\nhereditary estates, and by the use of those names do no more than give\nexpression to the fact that they own the estates. Accordingly all\nowners of property, if instead of being envious they were wise, ought\nalso to support the maintenance of the rights of birth.\n\nThe existence of a nobility has, then, a double advantage: it helps to\nmaintain on the one hand the rights of possession, and on the other\nthe right of birth belonging to the king. For the king is the first\nnobleman in the country, and, as a general rule, he treats the\nnobility as his humble relations, and regards them quite otherwise\nthan the commoners, however trusty and well-beloved. It is quite\nnatural, too, that he should have more confidence in those whose\nancestors were mostly the first ministers, and always the immediate\nassociates, of his own. A nobleman, therefore, appeals with reason\nto the name he bears, when on the occurrence of anything to rouse\ndistrust he repeats his assurance of fidelity and service to the king.\nA man's character, as my readers are aware, assuredly comes to him\nfrom his father. It is a narrow-minded and ridiculous thing not to\nconsider whose son a man is.\n\n\n\n\nFREE-WILL AND FATALISM.\n\n\nNo thoughtful man can have any doubt, after the conclusions reached in\nmy prize-essay on _Moral Freedom_, that such freedom is to be sought,\nnot anywhere in nature, but outside of it. The only freedom that\nexists is of a metaphysical character. In the physical world freedom\nis an impossibility. Accordingly, while our several actions are in no\nwise free, every man's individual character is to be regarded as a\nfree act. He is such and such a man, because once for all it is his\nwill to be that man. For the will itself, and in itself, and also in\nso far as it is manifest in an individual, and accordingly constitutes\nthe original and fundamental desires of that individual, is\nindependent of all knowledge, because it is antecedent to such\nknowledge. All that it receives from knowledge is the series of\nmotives by which it successively develops its nature and makes itself\ncognisable or visible; but the will itself, as something that lies\nbeyond time, and so long as it exists at all, never changes. Therefore\nevery man, being what he is and placed in the circumstances which\nfor the moment obtain, but which on their part also arise by strict\nnecessity, can absolutely never do anything else than just what at\nthat moment he does do. Accordingly, the whole course of a man's life,\nin all its incidents great and small, is as necessarily predetermined\nas the course of a clock.\n\nThe main reason of this is that the kind of metaphysical free act\nwhich I have described tends to become a knowing consciousness--a\nperceptive intuition, which is subject to the forms of space and time.\nBy means of those forms the unity and indivisibility of the act are\nrepresented as drawn asunder into a series of states and events,\nwhich are subject to the Principle of Sufficient Reason in its four\nforms--and it is this that is meant by _necessity_. But the result of\nit all assumes a moral complexion. It amounts to this, that by what we\ndo we know what we are, and by what we suffer we know what we deserve.\n\nFurther, it follows from this that a man's _individuality_ does not\nrest upon the principle of individuation alone, and therefore is not\naltogether phenomenal in its nature. On the contrary, it has its roots\nin the thing-in-itself, in the will which is the essence of each\nindividual. The character of this individual is itself individual. But\nhow deep the roots of individuality extend is one of the questions\nwhich I do not undertake to answer.\n\nIn this connection it deserves to be mentioned that even Plato, in his\nown way, represented the individuality of a man as a free act.[1] He\nrepresented him as coming into the world with a given tendency, which\nwas the result of the feelings and character already attaching to\nhim in accordance with the doctrine of metempsychosis. The Brahmin\nphilosophers also express the unalterable fixity of innate character\nin a mystical fashion. They say that Brahma, when a man is produced,\nengraves his doings and sufferings in written characters on his skull,\nand that his life must take shape in accordance therewith. They point\nto the jagged edges in the sutures of the skull-bones as evidence of\nthis writing; and the purport of it, they say, depends on his previous\nlife and actions. The same view appears to underlie the Christian, or\nrather, the Pauline, dogma of Predestination.\n\n[Footnote 1: _Phaedrus_ and _Laws, bk_. x.]\n\nBut this truth, which is universally confirmed by experience, is\nattended with another result. All genuine merit, moral as well as\nintellectual, is not merely physical or empirical in its origin,\nbut metaphysical; that is to say, it is given _a priori_ and not _a\nposteriori_; in other words, it lies innate and is not acquired,\nand therefore its source is not a mere phenomenon, but the\nthing-in-itself. Hence it is that every man achieves only that which\nis irrevocably established in his nature, or is born with him.\nIntellectual capacity needs, it is true, to be developed just as many\nnatural products need to be cultivated in order that we may enjoy or\nuse them; but just as in the case of a natural product no cultivation\ncan take the place of original material, neither can it do so in the\ncase of intellect. That is the reason why qualities which are merely\nacquired, or learned, or enforced--that is, qualities _a posteriori_,\nwhether moral or intellectual--are not real or genuine, but\nsuperficial only, and possessed of no value. This is a conclusion of\ntrue metaphysics, and experience teaches the same lesson to all who\ncan look below the surface. Nay, it is proved by the great importance\nwhich we all attach to such innate characteristics as physiognomy and\nexternal appearance, in the case of a man who is at all distinguished;\nand that is why we are so curious to see him. Superficial people, to\nbe sure,--and, for very good reasons, commonplace people too,--will be\nof the opposite opinion; for if anything fails them they will thus be\nenabled to console themselves by thinking that it is still to come.\n\nThe world, then, is not merely a battlefield where victory and defeat\nreceive their due recompense in a future state. No! the world is\nitself the Last Judgment on it. Every man carries with him the reward\nand the disgrace that he deserves; and this is no other than the\ndoctrine of the Brahmins and Buddhists as it is taught in the theory\nof metempsychosis.\n\nThe question has been raised, What two men would do, who lived a\nsolitary life in the wilds and met each other for the first time.\nHobbes, Pufendorf, and Rousseau have given different answers.\nPufendorf believed that they would approach each other as friends;\nHobbes, on the contrary, as enemies; Rousseau, that they would pass\neach other by In silence. All three are both right and wrong. This\nis just a case in which the incalculable difference that there is in\ninnate moral disposition between one individual and another would make\nits appearance. The difference is so strong that the question here\nraised might be regarded as the standard and measure of it. For there\nare men in whom the sight of another man at once rouses a feeling of\nenmity, since their inmost nature exclaims at once: That is not me!\nThere are, others in whom the sight awakens immediate sympathy; their\ninmost nature says: _That is me over again_! Between the two there\nare countless degrees. That in this most important matter we are so\ntotally different is a great problem, nay, a mystery.\n\nIn regard to this _a priori_ nature of moral character there is matter\nfor varied reflection in a work by Bastholm, a Danish writer, entitled\n_Historical Contributions to the Knowledge of Man in the Savage\nState_. He is struck by the fact that intellectual culture and moral\nexcellence are shown to be entirely independent of each other,\ninasmuch as one is often found without the other. The reason of this,\nas we shall find, is simply that moral excellence in no wise springs\nfrom reflection, which is developed by intellectual culture, but\nfrom the will itself, the constitution of which is innate and not\nsusceptible in itself of any improvement by means of education.\nBastholm represents most nations as very vicious and immoral; and on\nthe other hand he reports that excellent traits of character are found\namongst some savage peoples; as, for instance, amongst the Orotchyses,\nthe inhabitants of the island Savu, the Tunguses, and the Pelew\nislanders. He thus attempts to solve the problem, How it is that some\ntribes are so remarkably good, when their neighbours are all bad,\n\nIt seems to me that the difficulty may be explained as follows: Moral\nqualities, as we know, are heritable, and an isolated tribe, such as\nis described, might take its rise in some one family, and ultimately\nin a single ancestor who happened to be a good man, and then maintain\nits purity. Is it not the case, for instance, that on many unpleasant\noccasions, such as repudiation of public debts, filibustering raids\nand so on, the English have often reminded the North Americans of\ntheir descent from English penal colonists? It is a reproach, however,\nwhich can apply only to a small part of the population.\n\nIt is marvellous how _every man's individuality_ (that is to say, the\nunion of a definite character with a definite intellect) accurately\ndetermines all his actions and thoughts down to the most unimportant\ndetails, as though it were a dye which pervaded them; and how, in\nconsequence, one man's whole course of life, in other words, his inner\nand outer history, turns out so absolutely different from another's.\nAs a botanist knows a plant in its entirety from a single leaf; as\nCuvier from a single bone constructed the whole animal, so an accurate\nknowledge of a man's whole character may be attained from a single\ncharacteristic act; that is to say, he himself may to some extent\nbe constructed from it, even though the act in question is of very\ntrifling consequence. Nay, that is the most perfect test of all, for\nin a matter of importance people are on their guard; in trifles\nthey follow their natural bent without much reflection. That is\nwhy Seneca's remark, that even the smallest things may be taken as\nevidence of character, is so true: _argumenta morum ex minimis quoque\nlicet capere_.[1] If a man shows by his absolutely unscrupulous and\nselfish behaviour in small things that a sentiment of justice is\nforeign to his disposition, he should not be trusted with a penny\nunless on due security. For who will believe that the man who every\nday shows that he is unjust in all matters other than those which\nconcern property, and whose boundless selfishness everywhere protrudes\nthrough the small affairs of ordinary life which are subject to\nno scrutiny, like a dirty shirt through the holes of a ragged\njacket--who, I ask, will believe that such a man will act honourably\nin matters of _meum_ and _tuum_ without any other incentive but that\nof justice? The man who has no conscience in small things will be a\nscoundrel in big things. If we neglect small traits of character,\nwe have only ourselves to blame if we afterwards learn to our\ndisadvantage what this character is in the great affairs of life. On\nthe same principle, we ought to break with so-called friends even in\nmatters of trifling moment, if they show a character that is malicious\nor bad or vulgar, so that we may avoid the bad turn which only waits\nfor an opportunity of being done us. The same thing applies to\nservants. Let it always be our maxim: Better alone than amongst\ntraitors.\n\n[Footnote 1: _Ep_., 52.]\n\nOf a truth the first and foremost step in all knowledge of mankind is\nthe conviction that a man's conduct, taken as a whole, and in all its\nessential particulars, is not governed by his reason or by any of the\nresolutions which he may make in virtue of it. No man becomes this or\nthat by wishing to be it, however earnestly. His acts proceed from his\ninnate and unalterable character, and they are more immediately and\nparticularly determined by motives. A man's conduct, therefore, is the\nnecessary product of both character and motive. It may be illustrated\nby the course of a planet, which is the result of the combined effect\nof the tangential energy with which it is endowed, and the centripetal\nenergy which operates from the sun. In this simile the former energy\nrepresents character, and the latter the influence of motive. It is\nalmost more than a mere simile. The tangential energy which properly\nspeaking is the source of the planet's motion, whilst on the\nother hand the motion is kept in check by gravitation, is, from a\nmetaphysical point of view, the will manifesting itself in that body.\n\nTo grasp this fact is to see that we really never form anything more\nthan a conjecture of what we shall do under circumstances which are\nstill to happen; although we often take our conjecture for a resolve.\nWhen, for instance, in pursuance of a proposal, a man with the\ngreatest sincerity, and even eagerness, accepts an engagement to do\nthis or that on the occurrence of a certain future event, it is by\nno means certain that he will fulfil the engagement; unless he is so\nconstituted that the promise which he gives, in itself and as such, is\nalways and everywhere a motive sufficient for him, by acting upon him,\nthrough considerations of honour, like some external compulsion. But\nabove and beyond this, what he will do on the occurrence of that event\nmay be foretold from true and accurate knowledge of his character and\nthe external circumstances under the influence of which he will fall;\nand it may with complete certainty be foretold from this alone. Nay,\nit is a very easy prophecy if he has been already seen in a like\nposition; for he will inevitably do the same thing a second time,\nprovided that on the first occasion he had a true and complete\nknowledge of the facts of the case. For, as I have often remarked, a\nfinal cause does not impel a man by being real, but by being known;\n_causa finalis non movet secundum suum esse reale, sed secundum esse\ncognitum_.[1] Whatever he failed to recognise or understand the first\ntime could have no influence upon his will; just as an electric\ncurrent stops when some isolating body hinders the action of the\nconductor. This unalterable nature of character, and the consequent\nnecessity of our actions, are made very clear to a man who has not,\non any given occasion, behaved as he ought to have done, by showing\na lack either of resolution or endurance or courage, or some other\nquality demanded at the moment. Afterwards he recognises what it is\nthat he ought to have done; and, sincerely repenting of his incorrect\nbehaviour, he thinks to himself, _If the opportunity were offered to\nme again, I should act differently_. It is offered once more; the same\noccasion recurs; and to his great astonishment he does precisely the\nsame thing over again.[2]\n\n[Footnote 1: Suarez, _Disp. Metaph_., xxiii.; \u00a7\u00a77 and 8.]\n\n[Footnote 2: Cf. _World as Will_, ii., pp. 251 ff. _sqq_. (third\nedition).]\n\nThe best examples of the truth in question are in every way furnished\nby Shakespeare's plays. It is a truth with which he was thoroughly\nimbued, and his intuitive wisdom expressed it in a concrete shape on\nevery page. I shall here, however, give an instance of it in a case in\nwhich he makes it remarkably clear, without exhibiting any design or\naffectation in the matter; for he was a real artist and never set\nout from general ideas. His method was obviously to work up to the\npsychological truth which he grasped directly and intuitively,\nregardless of the fact that few would notice or understand it, and\nwithout the smallest idea that some dull and shallow fellows in\nGermany would one day proclaim far and wide that he wrote his works to\nillustrate moral commonplaces. I allude to the character of the Earl\nof Northumberland, whom we find in three plays in succession, although\nhe does not take a leading part in any one of them; nay, he appears\nonly in a few scenes distributed over fifteen acts. Consequently, if\nthe reader is not very attentive, a character exhibited at such great\nintervals, and its moral identity, may easily escape his notice, even\nthough it has by no means escaped the poet's. He makes the earl appear\neverywhere with a noble and knightly grace, and talk in language\nsuitable to it; nay, he sometimes puts very beautiful and even\nelevated passages, into his mouth. At the same time he is very far\nfrom writing after the manner of Schiller, who was fond of painting\nthe devil black, and whose moral approval or disapproval of the\ncharacters which he presented could be heard in their own words. With\nShakespeare, and also with Goethe, every character, as long as he is\non the stage and speaking, seems to be absolutely in the right, even\nthough it were the devil himself. In this respect let the reader\ncompare Duke Alba as he appears in Goethe with the same character in\nSchiller.\n\nWe make the acquaintance of the Earl of Northumberland in the play of\n_Richard II_., where he is the first to hatch a plot against the King\nin favour of Bolingbroke, afterwards Henry IV., to whom he even offers\nsome personal flattery (Act II., Sc. 3). In the following act he\nsuffers a reprimand because, in speaking of the King he talks of him\nas \"Richard,\" without more ado, but protests that he did it only for\nbrevity's sake. A little later his insidious words induce the King to\nsurrender. In the following act, when the King renounces the crown,\nNorthumberland treats him with such harshness and contempt that the\nunlucky monarch is quite broken, and losing all patience once more\nexclaims to him: _Fiend, thou torment'st me ere I come to hell_! At\nthe close, Northumberland announces to the new King that he has sent\nthe heads of the former King's adherents to London.\n\nIn the following tragedy, _Henry IV_., he hatches a plot against the\nnew King in just the same way. In the fourth act we see the rebels\nunited, making preparations for the decisive battle on the morrow, and\nonly waiting impatiently for Northumberland and his division. At last\nthere arrives a letter from him, saying that he is ill, and that he\ncannot entrust his force to any one else; but that nevertheless the\nothers should go forward with courage and make a brave fight. They\ndo so, but, greatly weakened by his absence, they are completely\ndefeated; most of their leaders are captured, and his own son, the\nvalorous Hotspur, falls by the hand of the Prince of Wales.\n\nAgain, in the following play, the _Second Part of Henry IV_., we see\nhim reduced to a state of the fiercest wrath by the death of his son,\nand maddened by the thirst for revenge. Accordingly he kindles another\nrebellion, and the heads of it assemble once more. In the fourth act,\njust as they are about to give battle, and are only waiting for him to\njoin them, there comes a letter saying that he cannot collect a proper\nforce, and will therefore seek safety for the present in Scotland;\nthat, nevertheless, he heartily wishes their heroic undertaking the\nbest success. Thereupon they surrender to the King under a treaty\nwhich is not kept, and so perish.\n\nSo far is character from being the work of reasoned choice and\nconsideration that in any action the intellect has nothing to do but\nto present motives to the will. Thereafter it looks on as a mere\nspectator and witness at the course which life takes, in accordance\nwith the influence of motive on the given character. All the incidents\nof life occur, strictly speaking, with the same necessity as the\nmovement of a clock. On this point let me refer to my prize-essay on\n_The Freedom of the Will_. I have there explained the true meaning and\norigin of the persistent illusion that the will is entirely free in\nevery single action; and I have indicated the cause to which it is\ndue. I will only add here the following teleological explanation of\nthis natural illusion.\n\nSince every single action of a man's life seems to possess the freedom\nand originality which in truth only belong to his character as he\napprehends it, and the mere apprehension of it by his intellect is\nwhat constitutes his career; and since what is original in every\nsingle action seems to the empirical consciousness to be always being\nperformed anew, a man thus receives in the course of his career the\nstrongest possible moral lesson. Then, and not before, he becomes\nthoroughly conscious of all the bad sides of his character. Conscience\naccompanies every act with the comment: _You should act differently_,\nalthough its true sense is: _You could be other than you are_. As the\nresult of this immutability of character on the one hand, and, on the\nother, of the strict necessity which attends all the circumstances in\nwhich character is successively placed, every man's course of life\nis precisely determined from Alpha right through to Omega. But,\nnevertheless, one man's course of life turns out immeasurably happier,\nnobler and more worthy than another's, whether it be regarded from a\nsubjective or an objective point of view, and unless we are to exclude\nall ideas of justice, we are led to the doctrine which is well\naccepted in Brahmanism and Buddhism, that the subjective conditions in\nwhich, as well as the objective conditions under which, every man is\nborn, are the moral consequences of a previous existence.\n\nMacchiavelli, who seems to have taken no interest whatever in\nphilosophical speculations, is drawn by the keen subtlety of his very\nunique understanding into the following observation, which possesses\na really deep meaning. It shows that he had an intuitive knowledge of\nthe entire necessity with which, characters and motives being given,\nall actions take place. He makes it at the beginning of the prologue\nto his comedy _Clitia_. _If_, he says, _the same men were to recur\nin the world in the way that the same circumstances recur, a hundred\nyears would never elapse without our finding ourselves together once\nmore, and doing the same things as we are doing now--Se nel mondo\ntornassino i medesimi uomini, como tornano i medesimi casi, non\npassarebbono mai cento anni che noi non ci trovassimo un altra volta\ninsieme, a fare le medesime cose che hora_. He seems however to have\nbeen drawn into the remark by a reminiscence of what Augustine says in\nhis _De Civitate Dei_, bk. xii., ch. xiii.\n\nAgain, Fate, or the [Greek: eimarmenae] of the ancients, is nothing\nbut the conscious certainty that all that happens is fast bound by a\nchain of causes, and therefore takes place with a strict necessity;\nthat the future is already ordained with absolute certainty and can\nundergo as little alteration as the past. In the fatalistic myths of\nthe ancients all that can be regarded as fabulous is the prediction\nof the future; that is, if we refuse to consider the possibility of\nmagnetic clairvoyance and second sight. Instead of trying to explain\naway the fundamental truth of Fatalism by superficial twaddle and\nfoolish evasion, a man should attempt to get a clear knowledge and\ncomprehension of it; for it is demonstrably true, and it helps us in a\nvery important way to an understanding of the mysterious riddle of\nour life. Predestination and Fatalism do not differ in the main. They\ndiffer only in this, that with Predestination the given character and\nexternal determination of human action proceed from a rational Being,\nand with Fatalism from an irrational one. But in either case the\nresult is the same: that happens which must happen.\n\nOn the other hand the conception of _Moral Freedom_ is inseparable\nfrom that of _Originality_. A man may be said, but he cannot be\nconceived, to be the work of another, and at the same time be free in\nrespect of his desires and acts. He who called him into existence out\nof nothing in the same process created and determined his nature--in\nother words, the whole of his qualities. For no one can create without\ncreating a something, that is to say, a being determined throughout\nand in all its qualities. But all that a man says and does necessarily\nproceeds from the qualities so determined; for it is only the\nqualities themselves set in motion. It is only some external impulse\nthat they require to make their appearance. As a man is, so must he\nact; and praise or blame attaches, not to his separate acts, but to\nhis nature and being.\n\nThat is the reason why Theism and the moral responsibility of man are\nincompatible; because responsibility always reverts to the creator of\nman and it is there that it has its centre. Vain attempts have been\nmade to make a bridge from one of these incompatibles to the other by\nmeans of the conception of moral freedom; but it always breaks down\nagain. What is _free_ must also be _original_. If our will is _free_,\nour will is also _the original element_, and conversely. Pre-Kantian\ndogmatism tried to separate these two predicaments. It was thereby\ncompelled to assume two kinds of freedom, one cosmological, of the\nfirst cause, and the other moral and theological, of human will. These\nare represented in Kant by the third as well as the fourth antimony of\nfreedom.\n\nOn the other hand, in my philosophy the plain recognition of the\nstrictly necessary character of all action is in accordance with the\ndoctrine that what manifests itself even in the organic and irrational\nworld is _will_. If this were not so, the necessity under which\nirrational beings obviously act would place their action in conflict\nwith will; if, I mean, there were really such a thing as the freedom\nof individual action, and this were not as strictly necessitated as\nevery other kind of action. But, as I have just shown, it is this same\ndoctrine of the necessary character of all acts of will which makes it\nneedful to regard a man's existence and being as itself the work of\nhis freedom, and consequently of his will. The will, therefore, must\nbe self-existent; it must possess so-called _a-se-ity_. Under the\nopposite supposition all responsibility, as I have shown, would be at\nan end, and the moral like the physical world would be a mere machine,\nset in motion for the amusement of its manufacturer placed somewhere\noutside of it. So it is that truths hang together, and mutually\nadvance and complete one another; whereas error gets jostled at every\ncorner.\n\nWhat kind of influence it is that _moral instruction_ may exercise\non conduct, and what are the limits of that influence, are questions\nwhich I have sufficiently examined in the twentieth section of my\ntreatise on the _Foundation of Morality_. In all essential particulars\nan analogous influence is exercised by _example_, which, however, has\na more powerful effect than doctrine, and therefore it deserves a\nbrief analysis.\n\nIn the main, example works either by restraining a man or by\nencouraging him. It has the former effect when it determines him to\nleave undone what he wanted to do. He sees, I mean, that other people\ndo not do it; and from this he judges, in general, that it is not\nexpedient; that it may endanger his person, or his property, or his\nhonour.\n\nHe rests content, and gladly finds himself relieved from examining\ninto the matter for himself. Or he may see that another man, who has\nnot refrained, has incurred evil consequences from doing it; this is\nexample of the deterrent kind. The example which encourages a man\nworks in a twofold manner. It either induces him to do what he would\nbe glad to leave undone, if he were not afraid lest the omission might\nin some way endanger him, or injure him in others' opinion; or else it\nencourages him to do what he is glad to do, but has hitherto refrained\nfrom doing from fear of danger or shame; this is example of the\nseductive kind. Finally, example may bring a man to do what he would\nhave otherwise never thought of doing. It is obvious that in this last\ncase example works in the main only on the intellect; its effect on\nthe will is secondary, and if it has any such effect, it is by the\ninterposition of the man's own judgment, or by reliance on the person\nwho presented the example.\n\nThe whole influence of example--and it is very strong--rests on the\nfact that a man has, as a rule, too little judgment of his own, and\noften too little knowledge, o explore his own way for himself, and\nthat he is glad, therefore, to tread in the footsteps of some one\nelse. Accordingly, the more deficient he is in either of these\nqualities, the more is he open to the influence of example; and we\nfind, in fact, that most men's guiding star is the example of others;\nthat their whole course of life, in great things and in small, comes\nin the end to be mere imitation; and that not even in the pettiest\nmatters do they act according to their own judgment. Imitation and\ncustom are the spring of almost all human action. The cause of it\nis that men fight shy of all and any sort of reflection, and very\nproperly mistrust their own discernment. At the same time this\nremarkably strong imitative instinct in man is a proof of his kinship\nwith apes.\n\nBut the kind of effect which example exercises depends upon a man's\ncharacter, and thus it is that the same example may possibly seduce\none man and deter another. An easy opportunity of observing this is\nafforded in the case of certain social impertinences which come into\nvogue and gradually spread. The first time that a man notices anything\nof the kind, he may say to himself: _For shame! how can he do it! how\nselfish and inconsiderate of him! really, I shall take care never to\ndo anything like that_. But twenty others will think: _Aha! if he does\nthat, I may do it too_.\n\nAs regards morality, example, like doctrine, may, it is true, promote\ncivil or legal amelioration, but not that inward amendment which is,\nstrictly speaking, the only kind of moral amelioration. For example\nalways works as a personal motive alone, and assumes, therefore,\nthat a man is susceptible to this sort of motive. But it is just the\npredominating sensitiveness of a character to this or that sort of\nmotive that determines whether its morality is true and real; though,\nof whatever kind it is, it is always innate. In general it may be said\nthat example operates as a means of promoting the good and the bad\nqualities of a character, but it does not create them; and so it\nis that Seneca's maxim, _velle non discitur_--_will cannot be\nlearned_--also holds good here. But the innateness of all truly moral\nqualities, of the good as of the bad, is a doctrine that consorts\nbetter with the metempsychosis of the Brahmins and Buddhists,\naccording to which a man's good and bad deeds follow him from one\nexistence to another like his shadow, than with Judaism. For Judaism\nrequires a man to come into the world as a moral blank, so that, in\nvirtue of an inconceivable free will, directed to objects which\nare neither to be sought nor avoided--_liberum arbitrium\nindifferentiae_--and consequently as the result of reasoned\nconsideration, he may choose whether he is to be an angel or a devil,\nor anything else that may lie between the two. Though I am well aware\nwhat the Jewish scheme is, I pay no attention to it; for my standard\nis truth. I am no professor of philosophy, and therefore I do not find\nmy vocation in establishing the fundamental ideas of Judaism at any\ncost, even though they for ever bar the way to all and every kind of\nphilosophical knowledge. _Liberum arbitrium indifferentiae_ under\nthe name of _moral freedom_ is a charming doll for professors of\nphilosophy to dandle; and we must leave it to those intelligent,\nhonourable and upright gentlemen.\n\n\n\n\nCHARACTER.\n\n\nMen who aspire to a happy, a brilliant and a long life, instead of to\na virtuous one, are like foolish actors who want to be always having\nthe great parts,--the parts that are marked by splendour and triumph.\nThey fail to see that the important thing is not _what_ or _how much_,\nbut _how_ they act.\n\nSince _a man does not alter_, and his _moral character_ remains\nabsolutely the same all through his life; since he must play out the\npart which he has received, without the least deviation from the\ncharacter; since neither experience, nor philosophy, nor religion\ncan effect any improvement in him, the question arises, What is the\nmeaning of life at all? To what purpose is it played, this farce\nin which everything that is essential is irrevocably fixed and\ndetermined?\n\nIt is played that a man may come to understand himself, that he may\nsee what it is that he seeks and has sought to be; what he wants, and\nwhat, therefore, he is. _This is a knowledge which must be imparted\nto him from without_. Life is to man, in other words, to will, what\nchemical re-agents are to the body: it is only by life that a man\nreveals what he is, and it is only in so far as he reveals himself\nthat he exists at all. Life is the manifestation of character, of the\nsomething that we understand by that word; and it is not in life, but\noutside of it, and outside time, that character undergoes alteration,\nas a result of the self-knowledge which life gives. Life is only\nthe mirror into which a man gazes not in order that he may get a\nreflection of himself, but that he may come to understand himself by\nthat reflection; that he may see _what_ it is that the mirror shows.\nLife is the proof sheet, in which the compositors' errors are brought\nto light. How they become visible, and whether the type is large or\nsmall, are matters of no consequence. Neither in the externals of life\nnor in the course of history is there any significance; for as it is\nall one whether an error occurs in the large type or in the small, so\nit is all one, as regards the essence of the matter, whether an evil\ndisposition is mirrored as a conqueror of the world or a common\nswindler or ill-natured egoist. In one case he is seen of all men; in\nthe other, perhaps only of himself; but that he should see himself is\nwhat signifies.\n\nTherefore if egoism has a firm hold of a man and masters him, whether\nit be in the form of joy, or triumph, or lust, or hope, or frantic\ngrief, or annoyance, or anger, or fear, or suspicion, or passion of\nany kind--he is in the devil's clutches and how he got into them does\nnot matter. What is needful is that he should make haste to get out of\nthem; and here, again, it does not matter how.\n\nI have described _character_ as _theoretically_ an act of will lying\nbeyond time, of which life in time, or _character in action_, is the\ndevelopment. For matters of practical life we all possess the one as\nwell as the other; for we are constituted of them both. Character\nmodifies our life more than we think, and it is to a certain extent\ntrue that every man is the architect of his own fortune. No doubt it\nseems as if our lot were assigned to us almost entirely from without,\nand imparted to us in something of the same way in which a melody\noutside us reaches the ear. But on looking back over our past, we see\nat once that our life consists of mere variations on one and the same\ntheme, namely, our character, and that the same fundamental bass\nsounds through it all. This is an experience which a man can and must\nmake in and by himself.\n\nNot only a man's life, but his intellect too, may be possessed of a\nclear and definite character, so far as his intellect is applied to\nmatters of theory. It is not every man, however, who has an intellect\nof this kind; for any such definite individuality as I mean is\ngenius--an original view of the world, which presupposes an absolutely\nexceptional individuality, which is the essence of genius. A man's\nintellectual character is the theme on which all his works are\nvariations. In an essay which I wrote in Weimar I called it the knack\nby which every genius produces his works, however various. This\nintellectual character determines the physiognomy of men of\ngenius--what I might call _the theoretical physiognomy_--and gives it\nthat distinguished expression which is chiefly seen in the eyes and\nthe forehead. In the case of ordinary men the physiognomy presents no\nmore than a weak analogy with the physiognomy of genius. On the other\nhand, all men possess _the practical physiognomy_, the stamp of will,\nof practical character, of moral disposition; and it shows itself\nchiefly in the mouth.\n\nSince character, so far as we understand its nature, is above and\nbeyond time, it cannot undergo any change under the influence of life.\nBut although it must necessarily remain the same always, it requires\ntime to unfold itself and show the very diverse aspects which it may\npossess. For character consists of two factors: one, the will-to-live\nitself, blind impulse, so-called impetuosity; the other, the restraint\nwhich the will acquires when it comes to understand the world; and the\nworld, again, is itself will. A man may begin by following the craving\nof desire, until he comes to see how hollow and unreal a thing is\nlife, how deceitful are its pleasures, what horrible aspects it\npossesses; and this it is that makes people hermits, penitents,\nMagdalenes. Nevertheless it is to be observed that no such change\nfrom a life of great indulgence in pleasure to one of resignation is\npossible, except to the man who of his own accord renounces pleasure.\nA really bad life cannot be changed into a virtuous one. The most\nbeautiful soul, before it comes to know life from its horrible side,\nmay eagerly drink the sweets of life and remain innocent. But it\ncannot commit a bad action; it cannot cause others suffering to do\na pleasure to itself, for in that case it would see clearly what\nit would be doing; and whatever be its youth and inexperience it\nperceives the sufferings of others as clearly as its own pleasures.\nThat is why one bad action is a guarantee that numberless others will\nbe committed as soon as circumstances give occasion for them. Somebody\nonce remarked to me, with entire justice, that every man had something\nvery good and humane in his disposition, and also something very bad\nand malignant; and that according as he was moved one or the other of\nthem made its appearance. The sight of others' suffering arouses, not\nonly in different men, but in one and the same man, at one moment an\ninexhaustible sympathy, at another a certain satisfaction; and this\nsatisfaction may increase until it becomes the cruellest delight in\npain. I observe in myself that at one moment I regard all mankind with\nheartfelt pity, at another with the greatest indifference, on occasion\nwith hatred, nay, with a positive enjoyment of their pain.\n\nAll this shows very clearly that we are possessed of two different,\nnay, absolutely contradictory, ways of regarding the world: one\naccording to the principle of individuation, which exhibits all\ncreatures as entire strangers to us, as definitely not ourselves. We\ncan have no feelings for them but those of indifference, envy, hatred,\nand delight that they suffer. The other way of regarding the world\nis in accordance with what I may call the\n_Tat-twam-asi_--_this-is-thyself_ principle. All creatures are\nexhibited as identical with ourselves; and so it is pity and love\nwhich the sight of them arouses.\n\nThe one method separates individuals by impassable barriers; the other\nremoves the barrier and brings the individuals together. The one makes\nus feel, in regard to every man, _that is what I am_; the other,\n_that is not what I am_. But it is remarkable that while the sight of\nanother's suffering makes us feel our identity with him, and arouses\nour pity, this is not so with the sight of another's happiness. Then\nwe almost always feel some envy; and even though we may have no such\nfeeling in certain cases,--as, for instance, when our friends are\nhappy,--yet the interest which we take in their happiness is of a weak\ndescription, and cannot compare with the sympathy which we feel with\ntheir suffering. Is this because we recognise all happiness to be a\ndelusion, or an impediment to true welfare? No! I am inclined to think\nthat it is because the sight of the pleasure, or the possessions,\nwhich are denied to us, arouses envy; that is to say, the wish that\nwe, and not the other, had that pleasure or those possessions.\n\nIt is only the first way of looking at the world which is founded on\nany demonstrable reason. The other is, as it were, the gate out of\nthis world; it has no attestation beyond itself, unless it be the very\nabstract and difficult proof which my doctrine supplies. Why the first\nway predominates in one man, and the second in another--though perhaps\nit does not exclusively predominate in any man; why the one or the\nother emerges according as the will is moved--these are deep problems.\nThe paths of night and day are close together:\n\n  [Greek: Engus gar nuktos de kai aematos eisi keleuthoi.]\n\nIt is a fact that there is a great and original difference between\none empirical character and another; and it is a difference which,\nat bottom, rests upon the relation of the individual's will to his\nintellectual faculty. This relation is finally determined by the\ndegree of will in his father and of intellect in his mother; and the\nunion of father and mother is for the most part an affair of chance.\nThis would all mean a revolting injustice in the nature of the\nworld, if it were not that the difference between parents and son is\nphenomenal only and all chance is, at bottom, necessity.\n\nAs regards the freedom of the will, if it were the case that the will\nmanifested itself in a single act alone, it would be a free act. But\nthe will manifests itself in a course of life, that is to say, in a\nseries of acts. Every one of these acts, therefore, is determined as\na part of a complete whole, and cannot happen otherwise than it does\nhappen. On the other hand, the whole series is free; it is simply the\nmanifestation of an individualised will.\n\nIf a man feels inclined to commit a bad action and refrains, he is\nkept back either (1) by fear of punishment or vengeance; or (2) by\nsuperstition in other words, fear of punishment in a future life; or\n(3) by the feeling of sympathy, including general charity; or (4) by\nthe feeling of honour, in other words, the fear of shame; or (5) by\nthe feeling of justice, that is, an objective attachment to fidelity\nand good-faith, coupled with a resolve to hold them sacred, because\nthey are the foundation of all free intercourse between man and\nman, and therefore often of advantage to himself as well. This last\nthought, not indeed as a thought, but as a mere feeling, influences\npeople very frequently. It is this that often compels a man of honour,\nwhen some great but unjust advantage is offered him, to reject it with\ncontempt and proudly exclaim: _I am an honourable man_! For otherwise\nhow should a poor man, confronted with the property which chance or\neven some worse agency has bestowed on the rich, whose very existence\nit is that makes him poor, feel so much sincere respect for this\nproperty, that he refuses to touch it even in his need; and although\nhe has a prospect of escaping punishment, what other thought is it\nthat can be at the bottom of such a man's honesty? He is resolved not\nto separate himself from the great community of honourable people\nwho have the earth in possession, and whose laws are recognised\neverywhere. He knows that a single dishonest act will ostracise and\nproscribe him from that society for ever. No! a man will spend money\non any soil that yields him good fruit, and he will make sacrifices\nfor it.\n\nWith a good action,--that, every action in which a man's own advantage\nis ostensibly subordinated to another's,--the motive is either (1)\nself-interest, kept in the background; or (2) superstition, in other\nwords, self-interest in the form of reward in another life; or (3)\nsympathy; or (4) the desire to lend a helping hand, in other words,\nattachment to the maxim that we should assist one another in need, and\nthe wish to maintain this maxim, in view of the presumption that some\nday we ourselves may find it serve our turn. For what Kant calls a\ngood action done from motives of duty and for the sake of duty, there\nis, as will be seen, no room at all. Kant himself declares it to be\ndoubtful whether an action was ever determined by pure motives of duty\nalone. I affirm most certainly that no action was ever so done; it is\nmere babble; there is nothing in it that could really act as a motive\nto any man. When he shelters himself behind verbiage of that sort, he\nis always actuated by one of the four motives which I have described.\nAmong these it is obviously sympathy alone which is quite genuine and\nsincere.\n\n_Good_ and _bad_ apply to character only _\u00e0 potiori_; that is to say,\nwe prefer the good to the bad; but, absolutely, there is no such\ndistinction. The difference arises at the point which lies between\nsubordinating one's own advantage to that of another, and not\nsubordinating it. If a man keeps to the exact middle, he is _just_.\nBut most men go an inch in their regard for others' welfare to twenty\nyards in regard for their own.\n\nThe source of _good_ and of _bad character_, so far as we have any\nreal knowledge of it, lies in this, that with the bad character the\nthought of the external world, and especially of the living creatures\nin it, is accompanied--all the more, the greater the resemblance\nbetween them and the individual self--by a constant feeling of _not I,\nnot I, not I_.\n\nContrarily, with the good character (both being assumed to exist in\na high degree) the same thought has for its accompaniment, like a\nfundamental bass, a constant feeling of _I, I, I_. From this spring\nbenevolence and a disposition to help all men, and at the same time a\ncheerful, confident and tranquil frame of mind, the opposite of that\nwhich accompanies the bad character.\n\nThe difference, however, is only phenomenal, although it is a\ndifference which is radical. But now we come to _the hardest of all\nproblems_: How is it that, while the will, as the thing-in-itself, is\nidentical, and from a metaphysical point of view one and the same\nin all its manifestations, there is nevertheless such an enormous\ndifference between one character and another?--the malicious,\ndiabolical wickedness of the one, and set off against it, the goodness\nof the other, showing all the more conspicuously. How is it that we\nget a Tiberius, a Caligula, a Carcalla, a Domitian, a Nero; and on the\nother hand, the Antonines, Titus, Hadrian, Nerva? How is it that among\nthe animals, nay, in a higher species, in individual animals, there is\na like difference?--the malignity of the cat most strongly developed\nin the tiger; the spite of the monkey; on the other hand, goodness,\nfidelity and love in the dog and the elephant. It is obvious that the\nprinciple of wickedness in the brute is the same as in man.\n\nWe may to some extent modify the difficulty of the problem by\nobserving that the whole difference is in the end only one of degree.\nIn every living creature, the fundamental propensities and instincts\nall exist, but they exist in very different degrees and proportions.\nThis, however, is not enough to explain the facts.\n\nWe must fall back upon the intellect and its relation to the will; it\nis the only explanation that remains. A man's intellect, however, by\nno means stands in any direct and obvious relation with the goodness\nof his character. We may, it is true, discriminate between two kinds\nof intellect: between understanding, as the apprehension of relation\nin accordance with the Principle of Sufficient Reason, and cognition,\na faculty akin to genius, which acts more directly, is independent of\nthis law, and passes beyond the Principle of Individuation. The latter\nis the faculty which apprehends Ideas, and it is the faculty which\nhas to do with morality. But even this explanation leaves much to\nbe desired. _Fine minds are seldom fine souls_ was the correct\nobservation of Jean Paul; although they are never the contrary. Lord\nBacon, who, to be sure, was less a fine soul than a fine mind, was a\nscoundrel.\n\nI have declared space and time to be part of the Principle of\nIndividuation, as it is only space and time that make the multiplicity\nof similar objects a possibility. But multiplicity itself also admits\nof variety; multiplicity and diversity are not only quantitative, but\nalso qualitative. How is it that there is such a thing as qualitative\ndiversity, especially in ethical matters? Or have I fallen into an\nerror the opposite of that in which Leibnitz fell with his _identitas\nindiscernibilium_?\n\nThe chief cause of intellectual diversity is to be found in the\nbrain and nervous system. This is a fact which somewhat lessens the\nobscurity of the subject. With the brutes the intellect and the brain\nare strictly adapted to their aims and needs. With man alone there\nis now and then, by way of exception, a superfluity, which, if it is\nabundant, may yield genius. But ethical diversity, it seems, proceeds\nimmediately from the will. Otherwise ethical character would not be\nabove and beyond time, as it is only in the individual that intellect\nand will are united. The will is above and beyond time, and eternal;\nand character is innate; that is to say, it is sprung from the same\neternity, and therefore it does not admit of any but a transcendental\nexplanation.\n\nPerhaps some one will come after me who will throw light into this\ndark abyss.\n\n\n\n\nMORAL INSTINCT.\n\n\nAn act done by instinct differs from every other kind of act in that\nan understanding of its object does not precede it but follows upon\nit. Instinct is therefore a rule of action given _\u00e0 priori_. We may be\nunaware of the object to which it is directed, as no understanding of\nit is necessary to its attainment. On the other hand, if an act is\ndone by an exercise of reason or intelligence, it proceeds according\nto a rule which the understanding has itself devised for the purpose\nof carrying out a preconceived aim. Hence it is that action according\nto rule may miss its aim, while instinct is infallible.\n\nOn the _\u00e0 priori_ character of instinct we may compare what Plato says\nin the _Philebus_. With Plato instinct is a reminiscence of something\nwhich a man has never actually experienced in his lifetime; in the\nsame way as, in the _Phaedo_ and elsewhere, everything that a man\nlearns is regarded as a reminiscence. He has no other word to express\nthe _\u00e0 priori_ element in all experience.\n\nThere are, then, three things that are _\u00e0 priori_:\n\n(1) Theoretical Reason, in other words, the conditions which make all\nexperience possible.\n\n(2) Instinct, or the rule by which an object promoting the life of the\nsenses may, though unknown, be attained.\n\n(3) The Moral Law, or the rule by which an action takes place without\nany object.\n\nAccordingly rational or intelligent action proceeds by a rule laid\ndown in accordance with the object as it is understood. Instinctive\naction proceeds by a rule without an understanding of the object of\nit. Moral action proceeds by a rule without any object at all.\n\n_Theoretical Reason_ is the aggregate of rules in accordance\nwith which all my knowledge--that is to say, the whole world of\nexperience--necessarily proceeds. In the same manner _Instinct_ is the\naggregate of rules in accordance with which all my action necessarily\nproceeds if it meets with no obstruction. Hence it seems to me that\nInstinct may most appropriately be called _practical reason_, for like\ntheoretical reason it determines the _must_ of all experience.\n\nThe so-called moral law, on the other hand, is only one aspect of _the\nbetter consciousness_, the aspect which it presents from the point of\nview of instinct. This better consciousness is something lying beyond\nall experience, that is, beyond all reason, whether of the theoretical\nor the practical kind, and has nothing to do with it; whilst it is in\nvirtue of the mysterious union of it and reason in the same individual\nthat the better consciousness comes into conflict with reason, leaving\nthe individual to choose between the two.\n\nIn any conflict between the better consciousness and reason, if the\nindividual decides for reason, should it be theoretical reason, he\nbecomes a narrow, pedantic philistine; should it be practical, a\nrascal.\n\nIf he decides for the better consciousness, we can make no further\npositive affirmation about him, for if we were to do so, we should\nfind ourselves in the realm of reason; and as it is only what takes\nplace within this realm that we can speak of at all it follows that we\ncannot speak of the better consciousness except in negative terms.\n\nThis shows us how it is that reason is hindered and obstructed;\nthat _theoretical reason_ is suppressed in favour of _genius_, and\n_practical reason_ in favour of _virtue_. Now the better consciousness\nis neither theoretical nor practical; for these are distinctions that\nonly apply to reason. But if the individual is in the act of choosing,\nthe better consciousness appears to him in the aspect which it assumes\nin vanquishing and overcoming the practical reason (or instinct, to\nuse the common word). It appears to him as an imperative command, an\n_ought_. It so appears to him, I say; in other words, that is the\nshape which it takes for the theoretical reason which renders\nall things into objects and ideas. But in so far as the better\nconsciousness desires to vanquish and overcome the theoretical reason,\nit takes no shape at all; on the simple ground that, as it comes\ninto play, the theoretical reason is suppressed and becomes the mere\nservant of the better consciousness. That is why genius can never give\nany account of its own works.\n\nIn the morality of action, the legal principle that both sides are to\nbe heard must not be allowed to apply; in other words, the claims of\nself and the senses must not be urged. Nay, on the contrary, as soon\nas the pure will has found expression, the case is closed; _nec\naudienda altera pars_.\n\nThe lower animals are not endowed with moral freedom. Probably this is\nnot because they show no trace of the better consciousness which in us\nis manifested as morality, or nothing analogous to it; for, if that\nwere so, the lower animals, which are in so many respects like\nourselves in outward appearance that we regard man as a species of\nanimal, would possess some _raison d'\u00eatre_ entirely different from our\nown, and actually be, in their essential and inmost nature, something\nquite other than ourselves. This is a contention which is obviously\nrefuted by the thoroughly malignant and inherently vicious character\nof certain animals, such as the crocodile, the hyaena, the scorpion,\nthe snake, and the gentle, affectionate and contented character of\nothers, such as the dog. Here, as in the case of men, the character,\nas it is manifested, must rest upon something that is above and beyond\ntime. For, as Jacob B\u00f6hme says,[1] _there is a power in every animal\nwhich is indestructible, and the spirit of the world draws it into\nitself, against the final separation at the Last Judgment_. Therefore\nwe cannot call the lower animals free, and the reason why we cannot\ndo so is that they are wanting in a faculty which is profoundly\nsubordinate to the better consciousness in its highest phase, I mean\nreason. Reason is the faculty of supreme comprehension, the idea of\ntotality. How reason manifests itself in the theoretical sphere Kant\nhas shown, and it does the same in the practical: it makes us capable\nof observing and surveying the whole of our life, thought, and action,\nin continual connection, and therefore of acting according to general\nmaxims, whether those maxims originate in the understanding as\nprudential rules, or in the better consciousness as moral laws.\n\n[Footnote 1: _Epistles_, 56.]\n\nIf any desire or passion is aroused in us, we, and in the same way the\nlower animals, are for the moment filled with this desire; we are all\nanger, all lust, all fear; and in such moments neither the better\nconsciousness can speak, nor the understanding consider the\nconsequences. But in our case reason allows us even at that moment\nto see our actions and our life as an unbroken chain,--a chain\nwhich connects our earlier resolutions, or, it may be, the future\nconsequences of our action, with the moment of passion which now fills\nour whole consciousness. It shows us the identity of our person, even\nwhen that person is exposed to influences of the most varied kind, and\nthereby we are enabled to act according to maxims. The lower animal\nis wanting in this faculty; the passion which seizes it completely\ndominates it, and can be checked only by another passion--anger, for\ninstance, or lust, by fear; even though the vision that terrifies does\nnot appeal to the senses, but is present in the animal only as a dim\nmemory and imagination. Men, therefore, may be called irrational, if,\nlike the lower animals, they allow themselves to be determined by the\nmoment.\n\nSo far, however, is reason from being the source of morality that it\nis reason alone which makes us capable of being rascals, which the\nlower animals cannot be. It is reason which enables us to form an evil\nresolution and to keep it when the provocation to evil is removed; it\nenables us, for example, to nurse vengeance. Although at the moment\nthat we have an opportunity of fulfilling our resolution the better\nconsciousness may manifest itself as love or charity, it is by force\nof reason, in pursuance of some evil maxim, that we act against it.\nThus Goethe says that a man may use his reason only for the purpose of\nbeing more bestial than any beast:\n\n  _Er hat Vernunft, doch braucht er sie allein\n  Um theirischer als jedes Thier zu sein_.\n\nFor not only do we, like the beasts, satisfy the desires of the\nmoment, but we refine upon them and stimulate them in order to prepare\nthe desire for the satisfaction.\n\nWhenever we think that we perceive a trace of reason in the lower\nanimals, it fills us with surprise. Now our surprise is not excited by\nthe good and affectionate disposition which some of them exhibit--we\nrecognise that as something other than reason--but by some action in\nthem which seems to be determined not by the impression of the moment,\nbut by a resolution previously made and kept. Elephants, for instance,\nare reported to have taken premeditated revenge for insults long after\nthey were suffered; lions, to have requited benefits on an opportunity\ntardily offered. The truth of such stories has, however, no bearing at\nall on the question, What do we mean by reason? But they enable us to\ndecide whether in the lower animals there is any trace of anything\nthat we can call reason.\n\nKant not only declares that all our moral sentiments originate in\nreason, but he lays down that reason, _in my sense of the word_, is\na condition of moral action; as he holds that for an action to be\nvirtuous and meritorious it must be done in accordance with maxims,\nand not spring from a resolve taken under some momentary impression.\nBut in both contentions he is wrong. If I resolve to take vengeance on\nsome one, and when an opportunity offers, the better consciousness in\nthe form of love and humanity speaks its word, and I am influenced by\nit rather than by my evil resolution, this is a virtuous act, for it\nis a manifestation of the better consciousness. It is possible to\nconceive of a very virtuous man in whom the better consciousness is\nso continuously active that it is never silent, and never allows his\npassions to get a complete hold of him. By such consciousness he is\nsubject to a direct control, instead of being guided indirectly,\nthrough the medium of reason, by means of maxims and moral principles.\nThat is why a man may have weak reasoning powers and a weak\nunderstanding and yet have a high sense of morality and be eminently\ngood; for the most important element in a man depends as little on\nintellectual as it does on physical strength. Jesus says, _Blessed\nare the poor in spirit_. And Jacob B\u00f6hme has the excellent and noble\nobservation: _Whoso lies quietly in his own will, like a child in the\nwomb, and lets himself be led and guided by that inner principle from\nwhich he is sprung, is the noblest and richest on earth_.[1]\n\n[Footnote 1: _Epistles_, 37.]\n\n\n\n\nETHICAL REFLECTIONS.\n\n\nThe philosophers of the ancient world united in a single conception\na great many things that had no connection with one another. Of this\nevery dialogue of Plato's furnishes abundant examples. The greatest\nand worst confusion of this kind is that between ethics and politics.\nThe State and the Kingdom of God, or the Moral Law, are so entirely\ndifferent in their character that the former is a parody of the\nlatter, a bitter mockery at the absence of it. Compared with the Moral\nLaw the State is a crutch instead of a limb, an automaton instead of a\nman.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe _principle of honour_ stands in close connection with human\nfreedom. It is, as it were, an abuse of that freedom. Instead of\nusing his freedom to fulfil the moral law, a man employs his power\nof voluntarily undergoing any feeling of pain, of overcoming any\nmomentary impression, in order that he may assert his self-will,\nwhatever be the object to which he directs it. As he thereby shows\nthat, unlike the lower animals, he has thoughts which go beyond the\nwelfare of his body and whatever makes for that welfare, it has come\nabout that the principle of honour is often confused with virtue. They\nare regarded as if they were twins. But wrongly; for although the\nprinciple of honour is something which distinguishes man from the\nlower animals, it is not, in itself, anything that raises him above\nthem. Taken as an end and aim, it is as dark a delusion as any other\naim that springs from self. Used as a means, or casually, it may be\nproductive of good; but even that is good which is vain and frivolous.\nIt is the misuse of freedom, the employment of it as a weapon for\novercoming the world of feeling, that makes man so infinitely more\nterrible than the lower animals; for they do only what momentary\ninstinct bids them; while man acts by ideas, and his ideas may entail\nuniversal ruin before they are satisfied.\n\nThere is another circumstance which helps to promote the notion that\nhonour and virtue are connected. A man who can do what he wants to do\nshows that he can also do it if what he wants to do is a virtuous act.\nBut that those of our actions which we are ourselves obliged to regard\nwith contempt are also regarded with contempt by other people serves\nmore than anything that I have here mentioned to establish the\nconnection. Thus it often happens that a man who is not afraid of the\none kind of contempt is unwilling to undergo the other. But when we\nare called upon to choose between our own approval and the world's\ncensure, as may occur in complicated and mistaken circumstances, what\nbecomes of the principle of honour then?\n\nTwo characteristic examples of the principle of honour are to be found\nin Shakespeare's _Henry VI_., Part II., Act IV., Sc. 1. A pirate is\nanxious to murder his captive instead of accepting, like others, a\nransom for him; because in taking his captive he lost an eye, and\nhis own honour and that of his forefathers would in his opinion be\nstained, if he were to allow his revenge to be bought off as though he\nwere a mere trader. The prisoner, on the other hand, who is the Duke\nof Suffolk, prefers to have his head grace a pole than to uncover it\nto such a low fellow as a pirate, by approaching him to ask for mercy.\n\nJust as civic honour--in other words, the opinion that we deserve to\nbe trusted--is the palladium of those whose endeavour it is to make\ntheir way in the world on the path of honourable business, so knightly\nhonour--in other words, the opinion that we are men to be feared--is\nthe palladium of those who aim at going through life on the path\nof violence; and so it was that knightly honour arose among the\nrobber-knights and other knights of the Middle Ages.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA theoretical philosopher is one who can supply in the shape of ideas\nfor the reason, a copy of the presentations of experience; just as\nwhat the painter sees he can reproduce on canvas; the sculptor, in\nmarble; the poet, in pictures for the imagination, though they are\npictures which he supplies only in sowing the ideas from which they\nsprang.\n\nA so-called practical philosopher, on the other hand, is one who,\ncontrarily, deduces his action from ideas. The theoretical philosopher\ntransforms life into ideas. The practical philosopher transforms ideas\ninto life; he acts, therefore, in a thoroughly reasonable manner; he\nis consistent, regular, deliberate; he is never hasty or passionate;\nhe never allows himself to be influenced by the impression of the\nmoment.\n\nAnd indeed, when we find ourselves among those full presentations of\nexperience, or real objects, to which the body belongs--since the body\nis only an objectified will, the shape which the will assumes in the\nmaterial world--it is difficult to let our bodies be guided, not by\nthose presentations, but by a mere image of them, by cold, colourless\nideas, which are related to experience as the shadow of Orcus to life;\nand yet this is the only way in which we can avoid doing things of\nwhich we may have to repent.\n\nThe theoretical philosopher enriches the domain of reason by adding to\nit; the practical philosopher draws upon it, and makes it serve him.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAccording to Kant the truth of experience is only a hypothetical\ntruth. If the suppositions which underlie all the intimations of\nexperience--subject, object, time, space and causality--were removed,\nnone of those intimations would contain a word of truth. In other\nwords, experience is only a phenomenon; it is not knowledge of the\nthing-in-itself.\n\nIf we find something in our own conduct at which we are secretly\npleased, although we cannot reconcile it with experience, seeing that\nif we were to follow the guidance of experience we should have to\ndo precisely the opposite, we must not allow this to put us out;\notherwise we should be ascribing an authority to experience which\nit does not deserve, for all that it teaches rests upon a mere\nsupposition. This is the general tendency of the Kantian Ethics.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nInnocence is in its very nature stupid. It is stupid because the aim\nof life (I use the expression only figuratively, and I could just\nas well speak of the essence of life, or of the world) is to gain a\nknowledge of our own bad will, so that our will may become an object\nfor us, and that we may undergo an inward conversion. Our body is\nitself our will objectified; it is one of the first and foremost of\nobjects, and the deeds that we accomplish for the sake of the body\nshow us the evil inherent in our will. In the state of innocence,\nwhere there is no evil because there is no experience, man is, as\nit were, only an apparatus for living, and the object for which the\napparatus exists is not yet disclosed. An empty form of life like\nthis, a stage untenanted, is in itself, like the so-called real world,\nnull and void; and as it can attain a meaning only by action, by\nerror, by knowledge, by the convulsions of the will, it wears a\ncharacter of insipid stupidity. A golden age of innocence, a fools'\nparadise, is a notion that is stupid and unmeaning, and for that\nvery reason in no way worthy of any respect. The first criminal and\nmurderer, Cain, who acquired a knowledge of guilt, and through\nguilt acquired a knowledge of virtue by repentance, and so came to\nunderstand the meaning of life, is a tragical figure more significant,\nand almost more respectable, than all the innocent fools in the world\nput together.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIf I had to write about _modesty_ I should say: I know the esteemed\npublic for which I have the honour to write far too well to dare to\ngive utterance to my opinion about this virtue. Personally I am quite\ncontent to be modest and to apply myself to this virtue with\nthe utmost possible circumspection. But one thing I shall never\nadmit--that I have ever required modesty of any man, and any statement\nto that effect I repel as a slander.\n\nThe paltry character of most men compels the few who have any merit\nor genius to behave as though they did not know their own value, and\nconsequently did not know other people's want of value; for it is\nonly on this condition that the mob acquiesces in tolerating merit. A\nvirtue has been made out of this necessity, and it is called modesty.\nIt is a piece of hypocrisy, to be excused only because other people\nare so paltry that they must be treated with indulgence.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHuman misery may affect us in two ways, and we may be in one of two\nopposite moods in regard to it.\n\nIn one of them, this misery is immediately present to us. We feel it\nin our own person, in our own will which, imbued with violent desires,\nis everywhere broken, and this is the process which constitutes\nsuffering. The result is that the will increases in violence, as\nis shown in all cases of passion and emotion; and this increasing\nviolence comes to a stop only when the will turns and gives way to\ncomplete resignation, in other words, is redeemed. The man who is\nentirely dominated by this mood will regard any prosperity which he\nmay see in others with envy, and any suffering with no sympathy.\n\nIn the opposite mood human misery is present to us only as a fact\nof knowledge, that is to say, indirectly. We are mainly engaged in\nlooking at the sufferings of others, and our attention is withdrawn\nfrom our own. It is in their person that we become aware of human\nmisery; we are filled with sympathy; and the result of this mood is\ngeneral benevolence, philanthropy. All envy vanishes, and instead\nof feeling it, we are rejoiced when we see one of our tormented\nfellow-creatures experience any pleasure or relief.\n\nAfter the same fashion we may be in one of two opposite moods in\nregard to human baseness and depravity. In the one we perceive this\nbaseness indirectly, in others. Out of this mood arise indignation,\nhatred, and contempt of mankind. In the other we perceive it directly,\nin ourselves. Out of it there arises humiliation, nay, contrition.\n\nIn order to judge the moral value of a man, it is very important to\nobserve which of these four moods predominate in him. They go in\npairs, one out of each division. In very excellent characters the\nsecond mood of each division will predominate.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe categorical imperative, or absolute command, is a contradiction.\nEvery command is conditional. What is unconditional and necessary is a\n_must_, such as is presented by the laws of nature.\n\nIt is quite true that the moral law is entirely conditional. There\nis a world and a view of life in which it has neither validity nor\nsignificance. That world is, properly speaking, the real world in\nwhich, as individuals, we live; for every regard paid to morality is a\ndenial of that world and of our individual life in it. It is a view\nof the world, however, which does not go beyond the principle of\nsufficient reason; and the opposite view proceeds by the intuition of\nIdeas.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIf a man is under the influence of two opposite but very strong\nmotives, A and B, and I am greatly concerned that he should choose A,\nbut still more that he should never be untrue to his choice, and by\nchanging his mind betray me, or the like, it will not do for me to say\nanything that might hinder the motive B from having its full effect\nupon him, and only emphasise A; for then I should never be able to\nreckon on his decision. What I have to do is, rather, to put both\nmotives before him at the same time, in as vivid and clear a way as\npossible, so that they may work upon him with their whole force. The\nchoice that he then makes is the decision of his inmost nature, and\nstands firm to all eternity. In saying _I will do this_, he has said\n_I must do this_. I have got at his will, and I can rely upon its\nworking as steadily as one of the forces of nature. It is as certain\nas fire kindles and water wets that he will act according to the\nmotive which has proved to be stronger for him. Insight and knowledge\nmay be attained and lost again; they may be changed, or improved, or\ndestroyed; but will cannot be changed. That is why _I apprehend, I\nperceive, I see_, is subject to alteration and uncertainty; _I will_,\npronounced on a right apprehension of motive, is as firm as nature\nitself. The difficulty, however, lies in getting at a right\napprehension. A man's apprehension of motive may change, or be\ncorrected or perverted; and on the other hand, his circumstances may\nundergo an alteration.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA man should exercise an almost boundless toleration and placability,\nbecause if he is capricious enough to refuse to forgive a single\nindividual for the meanness or evil that lies at his door, it is doing\nthe rest of the world a quite unmerited honour.\n\nBut at the same time the man who is every one's friend is no one's\nfriend. It is quite obvious what sort of friendship it is which we\nhold out to the human race, and to which it is open to almost every\nman to return, no matter what he may have done.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWith the ancients _friendship_ was one of the chief elements in\nmorality. But friendship is only limitation and partiality; it is\nthe restriction to one individual of what is the due of all mankind,\nnamely, the recognition that a man's own nature and that of mankind\nare identical. At most it is a compromise between this recognition and\nselfishness.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA lie always has its origin in the desire to extend the dominion of\none's own will over other individuals, and to deny their will in order\nthe better to affirm one's own. Consequently a lie is in its very\nnature the product of injustice, malevolence and villainy. That is why\ntruth, sincerity, candour and rectitude are at once recognised and\nvalued as praiseworthy and noble qualities; because we presume that\nthe man who exhibits them entertains no sentiments of injustice or\nmalice, and therefore stands in no need of concealing such sentiments.\nHe who is open cherishes nothing that is bad.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere is a certain kind of courage which springs from the same source\nas good-nature. What I mean is that the good-natured man is almost as\nclearly conscious that he exists in other individuals as in himself. I\nhave often shown how this feeling gives rise to good-nature. It\nalso gives rise to courage, for the simple reason that the man who\npossesses this feeling cares less for his own individual existence,\nas he lives almost as much in the general existence of all creatures.\nAccordingly he is little concerned for his own life and its\nbelongings. This is by no means the sole source of courage for it is\na phenomenon due to various causes. But it is the noblest kind of\ncourage, as is shown by the fact that in its origin it is associated\nwith great gentleness and patience. Men of this kind are usually\nirresistible to women.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAll general rules and precepts fail, because they proceed from the\nfalse assumption that men are constituted wholly, or almost wholly,\nalike; an assumption which the philosophy of Helvetius expressly\nmakes. Whereas the truth is that the original difference between\nindividuals in intellect and morality is immeasurable.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe question as to whether morality is something real is the question\nwhether a well-grounded counter-principle to egoism actually exists.\n\nAs egoism restricts concern for welfare to a single individual,\n_viz_., the man's own self, the counter-principle would have to extend\nit to all other individuals.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt is only because the will is above and beyond time that the stings\nof conscience are ineradicable, and do not, like other pains,\ngradually wear away. No! an evil deed weighs on the conscience years\nafterwards as heavily as if it had been freshly committed.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nCharacter is innate, and conduct is merely its manifestation; the\noccasion for great misdeeds comes seldom; strong counter-motives keep\nus back; our disposition is revealed to ourselves by our desires,\nthoughts, emotions, when it remains unknown to others. Reflecting on\nall this, we might suppose it possible for a man to possess, in some\nsort, an innate evil conscience, without ever having done anything\nvery bad.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n_Don't do to others what you wouldn't like done to yourself_. This is,\nperhaps, one of those arguments that prove, or rather ask, too much.\nFor a prisoner might address it to a judge.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nStupid people are generally malicious, for the very same reason as the\nugly and the deformed.\n\nSimilarly, genius and sanctity are akin. However simple-minded a saint\nmay be, he will nevertheless have a dash of genius in him; and however\nmany errors of temperament, or of actual character, a genius may\npossess, he will still exhibit a certain nobility of disposition by\nwhich he shows his kinship with the saint.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe great difference between Law without and Law within, between\nthe State and the Kingdom of God, is very clear. It is the State's\nbusiness to see that _every one should have justice done to him_;\nit regards men as passive beings, and therefore takes no account of\nanything but their actions. The Moral Law, on the other hand, is\nconcerned that _every one should do justice_; it regards men as\nactive, and looks to the will rather than the deed. To prove that this\nis the true distinction let the reader consider what would happen if\nhe were to say, conversely, that it is the State's business that every\none should do justice, and the business of the Moral Law that every\none should have justice done to him. The absurdity is obvious.\n\nAs an example of the distinction, let me take the case of a debtor and\na creditor disputing about a debt which the former denies. A lawyer\nand a moralist are present, and show a lively interest in the matter.\nBoth desire that the dispute should end in the same way, although what\nthey want is by no means the same. The lawyer says, _I want this man\nto get back what belongs to him_; and the moralist, _I want that man\nto do his duty_.\n\nIt is with the will alone that morality is concerned. Whether external\nforce hinders or fails to hinder the will from working does not in the\nleast matter. For morality the external world is real only in so far\nas it is able or unable to lead and influence the will. As soon as\nthe will is determined, that is, as soon as a resolve is taken, the\nexternal world and its events are of no further moment and\npractical do not exist. For if the events of the world had any\nsuch reality--that is to say, if they possessed a significance in\nthemselves, or any other than that derived from the will which is\naffected by them--what a grievance it would be that all these events\nlie in the realm of chance and error! It is, however, just this which\nproves that the important thing is not what happens, but what is\nwilled. Accordingly, let the incidents of life be left to the play of\nchance and error, to demonstrate to man that he is as chaff before the\nwind.\n\nThe State concerns itself only with the incidents--with what happens;\nnothing else has any reality for it. I may dwell upon thoughts of\nmurder and poison as much as I please: the State does not forbid me,\nso long as the axe and rope control my will, and prevent it from\nbecoming action.\n\nEthics asks: What are the duties towards others which justice imposes\nupon us? in other words, What must I render? The Law of Nature asks:\nWhat need I not submit to from others? that is, What must I suffer?\nThe question is put, not that I may do no injustice, but that I\nmay not do more than every man must do if he is to safeguard his\nexistence, and than every man will approve being done, in order that\nhe may be treated in the same way himself; and, further, that I may\nnot do more than society will permit me to do. The same answer will\nserve for both questions, just as the same straight line can be drawn\nfrom either of two opposite directions, namely, by opposing forces;\nor, again, as the angle can give the sine, or the sine the angle.\n\nIt has been said that the historian is an inverted prophet. In the\nsame way it may be said that a teacher of law is an inverted moralist\n(_viz_., a teacher of the duties of justice), or that politics are\ninverted ethics, if we exclude the thought that ethics also teaches\nthe duty of benevolence, magnanimity, love, and so on. The State is\nthe Gordian knot that is cut instead of being untied; it is Columbus'\negg which is made to stand by being broken instead of balanced, as\nthough the business in question were to make it stand rather than to\nbalance it. In this respect the State is like the man who thinks that\nhe can produce fine weather by making the barometer go up.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe pseudo-philosophers of our age tell us that it is the object of\nthe State to promote the moral aims of mankind. This is not true;\nit is rather the contrary which is true. The aim for which mankind\nexists--the expression is parabolic--is not that a man should act in\nsuch and such a manner; for all _opera operata_, things that have\nactually been done, are in themselves matters of indifference. No! the\naim is that the Will, of which every man is a complete specimen--nay,\nis the very Will itself--should turn whither it needs to turn; that\nthe man himself (the union of Thought and Will) should perceive what\nthis will is, and what horrors it contains; that he should show the\nreflection of himself in his own deeds, in the abomination of them.\nThe State, which is wholly concerned with the general welfare, checks\nthe manifestation of the bad will, but in no wise checks the will\nitself; the attempt would be impossible. It is because the State\nchecks the manifestation of his will that a man very seldom sees the\nwhole abomination of his nature in the mirror of his deeds. Or does\nthe reader actually suppose there are no people in the world as bad as\nRobespierre, Napoleon, or other murderers? Does he fail to see that\nthere are many who would act like them if only they could?\n\nMany a criminal dies more quietly on the scaffold than many a\nnon-criminal in the arms of his family. The one has perceived what his\nwill is and has discarded it. The other has not been able to discard\nit, because he has never been able to perceive what it is. The aim\nof the State is to produce a fool's paradise, and this is in direct\nconflict with the true aim of life, namely, to attain a knowledge of\nwhat the will, in its horrible nature, really is.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNapoleon was not really worse than many, not to say most, men. He was\npossessed of the very ordinary egoism that seeks its welfare at the\nexpense of others. What distinguished him was merely the greater power\nhe had of satisfying his will, and greater intelligence, reason and\ncourage; added to which, chance gave him a favourable scope for his\noperations. By means of all this he did for his egoism what a thousand\nother men would like to do for theirs, but cannot. Every feeble lad\nwho by little acts of villainy gains a small advantage for himself by\nputting others to some disadvantage, although it may be equally small,\nis just as bad as Napoleon.\n\nThose who fancy that retribution comes after death would demand that\nNapoleon should by unutterable torments pay the penalty for all the\nnumberless calamities that he caused. But he is no more culpable than\nall those who possess the same will, unaccompanied by the same power.\n\nThe circumstance that in his case this extraordinary power was added\nallowed him to reveal the whole wickedness of the human will; and the\nsufferings of his age, as the necessary obverse of the medal, reveal\nthe misery which is inextricably bound up with this bad will. It is\nthe general manipulation of this will that constitutes the world. But\nit is precisely that it should be understood how inextricably the will\nto live is bound up with, and is really one and the same as, this\nunspeakable misery, that is the world's aim and purpose; and it is an\naim and purpose which the appearance of Napoleon did much to assist.\nNot to be an unmeaning fools' paradise but a tragedy, in which the\nwill to live understands itself and yields--that is the object for\nwhich the world exists. Napoleon is only an enormous mirror of the\nwill to live.\n\nThe difference between the man who causes suffering and the man who\nsuffers it, is only phenomenal. It is all a will to live, identical\nwith great suffering; and it is only by understanding this that the\nwill can mend and end.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhat chiefly distinguishes ancient from modern times is that in\nancient times, to use Napoleon's expression, it was affairs that\nreigned: _les paroles aux choses_. In modern times this is not so.\nWhat I mean is that in ancient times the character of public life,\nof the State, and of Religion, as well as of private life, was a\nstrenuous affirmation of the will to live. In modern times it is a\ndenial of this will, for such is the character of Christianity. But\nnow while on the one hand that denial has suffered some abatement even\nin public opinion, because it is too repugnant to human character, on\nthe other what is publicly denied is secretly affirmed. Hence it is\nthat we see half measures and falsehood everywhere; and that is why\nmodern times look so small beside antiquity.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe structure of human society is like a pendulum swinging between two\nimpulses, two evils in polar opposition, _despotism_ and _anarchy_.\nThe further it gets from the one, the nearer it approaches the other.\nFrom this the reader might hit on the thought that if it were exactly\nmidway between the two, it would be right. Far from it. For these\ntwo evils are by no means equally bad and dangerous. The former is\nincomparably less to be feared; its ills exist in the main only as\npossibilities, and if they come at all it is only one among millions\nthat they touch. But, with anarchy, possibility and actuality are\ninseparable; its blows fall on every man every day. Therefore every\nconstitution should be a nearer approach to a despotism than to\nanarchy; nay, it must contain a small possibility of despotism.","title":"The Essays of Arthur Schopenhauer; On Human Nature","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":32238}