Essays of Schopenhauer
attained. The spirit of the species, which for the time being has got
the individual into its possession, now frees him again. Deserted by the
spirit, he relapses into his original state of narrowness and want; he
is surprised to find that after all his lofty, heroic, and endless
attempts to further his own pleasure he has obtained but little; and
contrary to his expectation, he finds that he is no happier than he was
before. He discovers that he has been the dupe of the will of the
species. Therefore, as a rule, a Theseus who has been made happy will
desert his Ariadne. If Petrarch's passion had been gratified his song
would have become silent from that moment, as that of the birds as soon
as the eggs are laid.
Let it be said in passing that, however much my metaphysics of love may
displease those in love, the fundamental truth revealed by me would
enable them more effectually than anything else to overcome their
passion, if considerations of reason in general could be of any avail.
The words of the comic poet of ancient times remain good: _Quae res in
se neque consilium, neque modum habet ullum, eam consilio regere non
potes_. People who marry for love do so in the interest of the species
and not of the individuals. It is true that the persons concerned
imagine they are promoting their own happiness; but their real aim,
which is one they are unconscious of, is to bring forth an individual
which can be begotten by them alone. This purpose having brought them
together, they ought henceforth to try and make the best of things. But
it very frequently happens that two people who have been brought
together by this instinctive illusion, which is the essence of
passionate love, are in every other respect temperamentally different.
This becomes apparent when the illusion wears off, as it necessarily
must.
Accordingly, people who marry for love are generally unhappy, for such
people look after the welfare of the future generation at the expense of
the present. _Quien se casa por amores, ha de vivir con dolores_ (He who
marries for love must live in grief), says the Spanish proverb.
Marriages _de convenance_, which are generally arranged by the parents,
will turn out the reverse. The considerations in this case which control
them, whatever their nature may be, are at any rate real and unable to
vanish of themselves. A marriage of this kind attends to the welfare of
the present generation to the detriment of the future, it is true; and
yet this remains problematical.
A man who marries for money, and not for love, lives more in the
interest of the individual than in that of the species; a condition
exactly opposed to truth; therefore it is unnatural and rouses a certain
feeling of contempt. A girl who against the wish of her parents refuses
to marry a rich man, still young, and ignores all considerations of
_convenance_, in order to choose another instinctively to her liking,
sacrifices her individual welfare to the species. But it is for this
very reason that she meets with a certain approval, for she has given
preference to what was more important and acted in the spirit of nature
(of the species) more exactly; while the parents advised only in the
spirit of individual egoism.
As the outcome of all this, it seems that to marry means that either the
interest of the individual or the interest of the species must suffer.
As a rule one or the other is the case, for it is only by the rarest and
luckiest accident that _convenance_ and passionate love go hand in hand.
The wretched condition of most persons physically, morally, and
intellectually may be partly accounted for by the fact that marriages
are not generally the result of pure choice and inclination, but of all
kinds of external considerations and accidental circumstances. However,
if inclination to a certain degree is taken into consideration, as well
as convenience, this is as it were a compromise with the genius of the
species. As is well known, happy marriages are few and far between,
since marriage is intended to have the welfare of the future generation
at heart and not the present.
However, let me add for the consolation of the more tender-hearted that
passionate love is sometimes associated with a feeling of quite another
kind--namely, real friendship founded on harmony of sentiment, but this,
however, does not exist until the instinct of sex has been extinguished.
This friendship will generally spring from the fact that the physical,
moral, and intellectual qualities which correspond to and supplement
each other in two individuals in love, in respect of the child to be
born, will also supplement each other in respect of the individuals
themselves as opposite qualities of temperament and intellectual
excellence, and thereby establish a harmony of sentiment.
The whole metaphysics of love which has been treated here is closely
related to my metaphysics in general, and the light it throws upon this
may be said to be as follows.
We have seen that a man's careful choice, developing through innumerable
degrees to passionate love, for the satisfaction of his instinct of sex,
is based upon the fundamental interest he takes in the constitution of
the next generation. This overwhelming interest that he takes verifies
two truths which have been already demonstrated.
First: Man's immortality, which is perpetuated in the future race. For
this interest of so active and zealous a nature, which is neither the
result of reflection nor intention, springs from the innermost
characteristics and tendencies of our being, could not exist so
continuously or exercise such great power over man if the latter were
really transitory and if a race really and totally different to himself
succeeded him merely in point of time.
Second: That his real nature is more closely allied to the species than
to the individual. For this interest that he takes in the special nature
of the species, which is the source of all love, from the most fleeting
emotion to the most serious passion, is in reality the most important
affair in each man's life, the successful or unsuccessful issue of which
touches him more nearly than anything else. This is why it has been
pre-eminently called the "affair of the heart." Everything that merely
concerns one's own person is set aside and sacrificed, if the case
require it, to this interest when it is of a strong and decided nature.
Therefore in this way man proves that he is more interested in the
species than in the individual, and that he lives more directly in the
interest of the species than in that of the individual.
Why, then, is a lover so absolutely devoted to every look and turn of
his beloved, and ready to make any kind of sacrifice for her? Because
the _immortal_ part of him is yearning for her; it is only the _mortal_
part of him that longs for everything else. That keen and even intense
longing for a particular woman is accordingly a direct pledge of the
immortality of the essence of our being and of its perpetuity in the
species.
To regard this perpetuity as something unimportant and insufficient is
an error, arising from the fact that in thinking of the continuity of
the species we only think of the future existence of beings similar to
ourselves, but in no respect, however, identical with us; and again,
starting from knowledge directed towards without, we only grasp the
outer form of the species as it presents itself to us, and do not take
into consideration its inner nature. It is precisely this inner nature
that lies at the foundation of our own consciousness as its kernel, and
therefore is more direct than our consciousness itself, and as
thing-in-itself exempt from the _principium individuationis_--is in
reality identical and the same in all individuals, whether they exist at
the same or at different times.
This, then, is the will to live--that is to say, it is exactly _that
which_ so intensely desires both life and continuance, and which
accordingly remains unharmed and unaffected by death. Further, its
present state cannot be improved, and while there is life it is certain
of the unceasing sufferings and death of the individual. The _denial_ of
the will to live is reserved to free it from this, as the means by which
the individual will breaks away from the stem of the species, and
surrenders that existence in it.
We are wanting both in ideas and all data as to what it is after that.
We can only indicate it as something which is free to be will to live or
not to live. Buddhism distinguishes the latter case by the word
_Nirvana_. It is the point which as such remains for ever impenetrable
to all human knowledge.
Looking at the turmoil of life from this standpoint we find all occupied
with its want and misery, exerting all their strength in order to
satisfy its endless needs and avert manifold suffering, without,
however, daring to expect anything else in return than merely the
preservation of this tormented individual existence for a short span of
time. And yet, amid all this turmoil we see a pair of lovers exchanging
longing glances--yet why so secretly, timidly, and stealthily? Because
these lovers are traitors secretly striving to perpetuate all this
misery and turmoil that otherwise would come to a timely end.
FOOTNOTES:
[17] Ch. xxvi. 23.
[18] _De vita longa_ i. 5.
PHYSIOGNOMY.
That the outside reflects the inner man, and that the face expresses his
whole character, is an obvious supposition and accordingly a safe one,
demonstrated as it is in the desire people have _to see_ on all
occasions a man who has distinguished himself by something good or evil,
or produced some exceptional work; or if this is denied them, at any
rate to hear from others _what he looks like_. This is why, on the one
hand, they go to places where they conjecture he is to be found; and on
the other, why the press, and especially the English press, tries to
describe him in a minute and striking way; he is soon brought visibly
before us either by a painter or an engraver; and finally, photography,
on that account so highly prized, meets this necessity in a most perfect
way.
It is also proved in everyday life that each one inspects the
physiognomy of those he comes in contact with, and first of all secretly
tries to discover their moral and intellectual character from their
features. This could not be the case if, as some foolish people state,
the outward appearance of a man is of no importance; nay, if the soul is
one thing and the body another, and the latter related to the soul as
the coat is to the man himself.
Rather is every human face a hieroglyph, which, to be sure, admits of
being deciphered--nay, the whole alphabet of which we carry about with
us. Indeed, the face of a man, as a rule, bespeaks more interesting
matter than his tongue, for it is the compendium of all which he will
ever say, as it is the register of all his thoughts and aspirations.
Moreover, the tongue only speaks the thoughts of one man, while the face
expresses a thought of nature. Therefore it is worth while to observe
everybody attentively; even if they are not worth talking to. Every
individual is worthy of observation as a single thought of nature; so is
beauty in the highest degree, for it is a higher and more general
conception of nature: it is her thought of a species. This is why we are
so captivated by beauty. It is a fundamental and principal thought of
Nature; whereas the individual is only a secondary thought, a corollary.
In secret, everybody goes upon the principle that a man _is_ what he
_looks_; but the difficulty lies in its application. The ability to
apply it is partly innate and partly acquired by experience; but no one
understands it thoroughly, for even the most experienced may make a