Chapter 1
Original German
Grundeinteilung.
Aristoteles hat (Eth. Nicom. I, 8) die Güter des menschlichen Lebens in drei Klassen geteilt, – die äußeren, die der Seele und die des Leibes. Hievon nun nichts als die Dreizahl beibehaltend, sage ich, daß was den Unterschied im Lose der Sterblichen begründet sich auf drei Grundbestimmungen zurückführen läßt. Sie sind:
1 Was einer ist: also die Persönlichkeit, im weitesten Sinne. Sonach ist hierunter Gesundheit, Kraft, Schönheit, Temperament, moralischer Charakter, Intelligenz und Ausbildung derselben begriffen.
2 Was einer hat: also Eigentum und Besitz in jeglichem Sinne.
3 Was einer vorstellt: unter diesem Ausdruck wird bekanntlich verstanden, was er in der Vorstellung anderer ist, also eigentlich, wie er von ihnen vorgestellt wird. Es besteht demnach in ihrer Meinung von ihm, und zerfällt in Ehre, Rang und Ruhm.
Die unter der ersten Rubrik zu betrachtenden Unterschiede sind solche, welche die Natur selbst zwischen Menschen gesetzt hat; woraus sich schon abnehmen läßt, daß der Einfluß derselben auf ihr Glück, oder Unglück, viel wesentlicher und durchgreifender sein werde, als was die bloß aus menschlichen Bestimmungen hervorgehenden, unter den zwei folgenden Rubriken angegebenen Verschiedenheiten herbeiführen. Zu den echten persönlichen Vorzügen, dem großen Geiste oder großen Herzen, verhalten sich alle Vorzüge des Ranges, der Geburt, selbst der königlichen, des Reichtums u. dgl. wie die Theater-Könige zu den wirklichen. Schon Metrodorus, der erste Schüler Epikurs, hat ein Kapitel überschrieben: περι του μειζονα εἰναι την παρ’ ἡμας αἰτιαν προς εὐδαιμονιαν της ἐκ των πραγματων. (Majorem esse causam ad felicitatem eam, quae est ex nobis, eâ, quae ex rebus oritur. – Vgl. Clemens Alex. Strom. II, 21, p. 362 der Würzburger Ausgabe der opp. polem.) Und allerdings ist für das Wohlsein des Menschen, ja, für die ganze Weise seines Daseins, die Hauptsache offenbar das, was in ihm selbst besteht oder vergeht. Hier nämlich liegt unmittelbar sein inneres Behagen oder Unbehagen, als welches zunächst das Resultat seines Empfindens, Wollens und Denkens ist; während alles außerhalb Gelegene doch nur mittelbar darauf Einfluß hat. Daher affiziren dieselben äußern Vorgänge oder Verhältnisse jeden ganz anders, und bei gleicher Umgebung lebt doch jeder in einer andern Welt. Denn nur mit seinen eigenen Vorstellungen, Gefühlen und Willensbewegungen hat er es unmittelbar zu tun: die Außendinge haben nur, sofern sie diese veranlassen, Einfluß auf ihn. Die Welt, in der jeder lebt, hängt zunächst ab von seiner Auffassung derselben, richtet sich daher nach der Verschiedenheit der Köpfe: dieser gemäß wird sie arm, schal und flach, oder reich, interessant und bedeutungsvoll ausfallen. Während z. B. mancher den andern beneidet um die interessanten Begebenheiten, die ihm in seinem Leben aufgestoßen sind, sollte er ihn vielmehr um die Auffassungsgabe beneiden, welche jenen Begebenheiten die Bedeutsamkeit verlieh, die sie in seiner Beschreibung haben: denn dieselbe Begebenheit, welche in einem geistreichen Kopfe sich so interessant darstellt, würde, von einem flachen Alltagskopf aufgefaßt, auch nur eine schale Szene aus der Alltagswelt sein. Im höchsten Grade zeigt sich dies bei manchen Gedichten Goethes und Byrons, denen offenbar reale Vorgänge zum Grunde liegen: ein törichter Leser ist imstande, dabei den Dichter um die allerliebste Begebenheit zu beneiden, statt um die mächtige Phantasie, welche aus einem ziemlich alltäglichen Vorfall etwas so Großes und Schönes zu machen fähig war. Desgleichen sieht der Melancholikus eine Trauerspielszene, wo der Sanguinikus nur einen interessanten Konflikt und der Phlegmatikus etwas Unbedeutendes vor sich hat. Dies alles beruht darauf, daß jede Wirklichkeit, d. h. jede erfüllte Gegenwart, aus zwei Hälften besteht, dem Subjekt und dem Objekt, wiewohl in so notwendiger und enger Verbindung wie Oxygen und Hydrogen im Wasser. Bei völlig gleicher objektiver Hälfte, aber verschiedener subjektiver, ist daher, so gut wie im umgekehrten Fall, die gegenwärtige Wirklichkeit eine ganz andere: die schönste und beste objektive Hälfte bei stumpfer, schlechter subjektiver, gibt doch nur eine schlechte Wirklichkeit und Gegenwart; gleich einer schönen Gegend in schlechtem Wetter, oder im Reflex einer schlechten Camera obscura. Oder planer zu reden: Jeder steckt in seinem Bewußtsein wie in seiner Haut, und lebt unmittelbar nur in demselben: daher ist ihm von außen nicht sehr zu helfen. Auf der Bühne spielt einer den Fürsten, ein anderer den Rat, ein Dritter den Diener oder den Soldaten, oder den General usf. Aber diese Unterschiede sind bloß im Äußern vorhanden, im Innern, als Kern einer solchen Erscheinung, steckt bei allen dasselbe: ein armer Komödiant, mit seiner Plage und Not. Im Leben ist es auch so. Die Unterschiede des Ranges und Reichtums geben jedem seine Rolle zu spielen; aber keineswegs entspricht dieser eine innere Verschiedenheit des Glücks und Behagens, sondern auch hier steckt in jedem derselbe arme Tropf, mit seiner Not und Plage, die wohl dem Stoffe nach bei jedem eine andere ist, aber der Form, d. h. dem eigentlichen Wesen nach, so ziemlich bei allen dieselbe; wenn auch mit Unterschieden des Grades, die sich aber keineswegs nach Stand und Reichtum, d. h. nach der Rolle richten. Weil nämlich alles, was für den Menschen da ist und vorgeht, unmittelbar immer nur in seinem Bewußtsein da ist und für dieses vorgeht; so ist offenbar die Beschaffenheit des Bewußtseins selbst zunächst das Wesentliche, und auf dieselbe kommt, in den meisten Fällen, mehr an, als auf die Gestalten, die darin sich darstellen. Alle Pracht und Genüsse, abgespiegelt im dumpfen Bewußtsein eines Tropfs, sind sehr arm gegen das Bewußtsein des Cervantes, als er in einem unbequemen Gefängnisse den Don Quijote schrieb. – Die objektive Hälfte der Gegenwart und Wirklichkeit steht in der Hand des Schicksals und ist demnach veränderlich: die subjektive sind wir selbst; daher sie im wesentlichen unveränderlich ist. Demgemäß trägt das Leben jedes Menschen, trotz aller Abwechselung von außen, durchgängig denselben Charakter und ist einer Reihe Variationen auf ein Thema zu vergleichen. Aus seiner Individualität kann keiner heraus. Und wie das Tier unter allen Verhältnissen, in die man es setzt, auf den engen Kreis beschränkt bleibt, den die Natur seinem Wesen unwiderruflich gezogen hat, weshalb z. B. unsere Bestrebungen, ein geliebtes Tier zu beglücken, eben wegen jener Grenzen seines Wesens und Bewußtseins, stets innerhalb enger Schranken sich halten müssen; – so ist es auch mit dem Menschen: durch seine Individualität ist das Maß seines möglichen Glückes zum voraus bestimmt. Besonders haben die Schranken seiner Geisteskräfte seine Fähigkeit für erhöhten Genuß ein für allemal festgestellt. Sind sie eng, so werden alle Bemühungen von außen, alles, was Menschen, alles, was das Glück für ihn tut, nicht vermögen, ihn über das Maß des gewöhnlichen, halb tierischen Menschenglücks und Behagens hinaus zu führen: auf Sinnengenuß, trauliches und heiteres Familienleben, niedrige Geselligkeit und vulgären Zeitvertreib bleibt er angewiesen: sogar die Bildung vermag im ganzen, zur Erweiterung jenes Kreises, nicht gar viel, wenn gleich etwas. Denn die höchsten, die mannigfaltigsten und die anhaltendsten Genüsse sind die geistigen; wie sehr auch wir, in der Jugend, uns darüber täuschen mögen; diese aber hängen hauptsächlich von der geistigen Kraft ab. – Hieraus also ist klar, wie sehr unser Glück abhängt von dem, was wir sind, von unserer Individualität; während man meistens nur unser Schicksal, nur das, was wir haben, oder was wir vorstellen, in Anschlag bringt. Das Schicksal aber kann sich bessern: zudem wird man, bei innerm Reichtum, von ihm nicht viel verlangen: hingegen ein Tropf bleibt ein Tropf, ein stumpfer Klotz ein stumpfer Klotz, bis an sein Ende, und wäre er im Paradiese und von Huris umgeben. Deshalb sagt Goethe:
Volk und Knecht und Überwinder,Sie gestehn, zu jeder Zeit,Höchstes Glück der ErdenkinderSei nur die Persönlichkeit.
W. O. Divan.
Daß für unser Glück und unsern Genuß das Subjektive ungleich wesentlicher als das Objektive sei, bestätigt sich in allem: von dem an, daß Hunger der beste Koch ist und der Greis die Göttin des Jünglings gleichgültig ansieht, bis hinauf zum Leben des Genies und des Heiligen. Besonders überwiegt die Gesundheit alle äußern Güter so sehr, daß wahrlich ein gesunder Bettler glücklicher ist als ein kranker König. Ein aus vollkommener Gesundheit und glücklicher Organisation hervorgehendes, ruhiges und heiteres Temperament, ein klarer, lebhafter, eindringender und richtig fassender Verstand, ein gemäßigter, sanfter Wille und demnach ein gutes Gewissen, dies sind Vorzüge, die kein Rang oder Reichtum ersetzen kann. Denn was einer für sich selbst ist, was ihn in die Einsamkeit begleitet und was keiner ihm geben oder nehmen kann, ist offenbar für ihn wesentlicher als alles, was er besitzen, oder auch, was er in den Augen anderer sein mag. Ein geistreicher Mensch hat, in gänzlicher Einsamkeit, an seinen eigenen Gedanken und Phantasien vortreffliche Unterhaltung, während von einem Stumpfen die fortwährende Abwechselung von Gesellschaften, Schauspielen, Ausfahrten und Lustbarkeiten, die marternde Langeweile nicht abzuwehren vermag. Ein guter, gemäßigter, sanfter Charakter kann unter dürftigen Umständen zufrieden sein; während ein begehrlicher, neidischer oder böser es bei allem Reichtum nicht ist. Nun aber gar dem, welcher beständig den Genuß einer außerordentlichen, geistig eminenten Individualität hat, sind die meisten der allgemein angestrebten Genüsse ganz überflüssig, ja, nur störend und lästig. Daher sagt Horaz von sich:
Gemmas, marmor, ebur, Thyrrhena sigilla, tabellas,Argentum, vestes Gaetulo murice tinctas,Sunt qui non habeant, est qui non curat habere;
und Sokrates sagte, beim Anblick zum Verkauf ausgelegter Luxusartikel: »Wie vieles gibt es doch, was ich nicht nötig habe.« Für unser Lebensglück ist demnach das, was wir sind, die Persönlichkeit, durchaus das Erste und Wesentlichste; – schon weil sie beständig und unter allen Umständen wirksam ist: zudem aber ist sie nicht, wie die Güter der zwei andern Rubriken, dem Schicksal unterworfen, und kann uns nicht entrissen werden. Ihr Wert kann insofern ein absoluter heißen, im Gegensatz des bloß relativen der beiden andern. Hieraus nun folgt, daß dem Menschen von außen viel weniger beizukommen ist, als man wohl meint. Bloß die allgewaltige Zeit übt auch hier ihr Recht: ihr unterliegen allmählich die körperlichen und geistigen Vorzüge: der moralische Charakter allein bleibt auch ihr unzugänglich. In dieser Hinsicht hätten denn freilich die Güter der zwei letztern Rubriken, als welche die Zeit unmittelbar nicht raubt, vor denen der ersten einen Vorzug. Einen zweiten könnte man darin finden, daß sie, als im Objektiven gelegen, ihrer Natur nach, erreichbar sind und jedem wenigstens die Möglichkeit vorliegt, in ihren Besitz zu gelangen; während hingegen das Subjektive gar nicht in unsere Macht gegeben ist, sondern jure divino eingetreten, für das ganze Leben unveränderlich feststeht; so daß hier unerbittlich der Ausspruch gilt:
Wie an dem Tag, der dich der Welt verliehen,Die Sonne stand zum Gruße der Planeten,Bist alsobald und fort und fort gediehenNach dem Gesetz, wonach du angetreten.So mußt du sein, dir kannst du nicht entfliehen,So sagten schon Sibyllen, so Propheten;Und keine Zeit und keine Macht zerstückeltGeprägte Form, die lebend sich entwickelt.
Goethe.
Das Einzige, was in dieser Hinsicht in unserer Macht steht, ist, daß wir die gegebene Persönlichkeit zum möglichsten Vorteile benutzen, demnach nur die ihr entsprechenden Bestrebungen verfolgen und uns um die Art von Ausbildung bemühen, die ihr gerade angemessen ist, jede andere aber meiden, folglich den Stand, die Beschäftigung, die Lebensweise wählen, welche zu ihr passen.
Ein herkulischer, mit ungewöhnlicher Muskelkraft begabter Mensch, der durch äußere Verhältnisse genötigt ist, einer sitzenden Beschäftigung, einer kleinlichen, peinlichen Handarbeit obzuliegen, oder auch Studien und Kopfarbeiten zu treiben, die ganz anderartige, bei ihm zurückstehende Kräfte erfordern, folglich gerade die bei ihm ausgezeichneten Kräfte unbenutzt zu lassen, der wird sich zeitlebens unglücklich fühlen; noch mehr aber der, bei dem die intellektuellen Kräfte sehr überwiegend sind, und der sie unentwickelt und ungenutzt lassen muß, um ein gemeines Geschäft zu treiben, das ihrer nicht bedarf, oder gar körperliche Arbeit, zu der seine Kraft nicht recht ausreicht. Jedoch ist hier, zumal in der Jugend, die Klippe der Präsumtion zu vermeiden, daß man sich nicht ein Übermaß von Kräften zuschreibe, welches man nicht hat.
Aus dem entschiedenen Übergewicht unsrer ersten Rubrik über die beiden andern geht aber auch hervor, daß es weiser ist, auf Erhaltung seiner Gesundheit und auf Ausbildung seiner Fähigkeiten, als auf Erwerbung von Reichtum hinzuarbeiten; was jedoch nicht dahin mißdeutet werden darf, daß man den Erwerb des Nötigen und Angemessenen vernachlässigen sollte. Aber eigentlicher Reichtum, d. h. großer Überfluß, vermag wenig zu unserm Glück; daher viele Reiche sich unglücklich fühlen, weil sie ohne eigentliche Geistesbildung, ohne Kenntnisse und deshalb ohne irgend ein objektives Interesse, welches sie zu geistiger Beschäftigung befähigen könnte, sind. Denn was der Reichtum über die Befriedigung der wirklichen und natürlichen Bedürfnisse hinaus noch leisten kann, ist von geringem Einfluß auf unser eigentliches Wohlbehagen: vielmehr wird dieses gestört durch die vielen und unvermeidlichen Sorgen, welche die Erhaltung eines großen Besitzes herbeiführt. Dennoch sind die Menschen aber tausend Mal mehr bemüht, sich Reichtum, als Geistesbildung zu erwerben; während doch ganz gewiß, was man ist, viel mehr zu unserm Glücke beiträgt, als was man hat. Gar manchen daher sehn wir, in rastloser Geschäftigkeit, emsig wie die Ameise, vom Morgen bis zum Abend bemüht, den schon vorhandenen Reichtum zu vermehren. Über den engen Gesichtskreis des Bereichs der Mittel hiezu hinaus kennt er nichts: sein Geist ist leer, daher für alles andere unempfänglich. Die höchsten Genüsse, die geistigen, sind ihm unzugänglich: durch die flüchtigen, sinnlichen, wenig Zeit, aber viel Geld kostenden, die er zwischendurch sich erlaubt, sucht er vergeblich jene anderen zu ersetzen. Am Ende seines Lebens hat er dann, als Resultat desselben, wenn das Glück gut war, wirklich einen recht großen Haufen Geld vor sich, welchen noch zu vermehren, oder aber durchzubringen, er jetzt seinen Erben überläßt. Ein solcher, wiewohl mit gar ernsthafter und wichtiger Miene durchgeführter Lebenslauf ist daher ebenso töricht, wie mancher andere, der geradezu die Schellenkappe zum Symbol hatte.
Also was einer an sich selber hat, ist zu seinem Lebensglücke das Wesentlichste. Bloß weil dieses, in der Regel, so gar wenig ist, fühlen die meisten von denen, welche über den Kampf mit der Not hinaus sind, sich im Grunde ebenso unglücklich, wie die, welche sich noch darin herumschlagen. Die Leere ihres Innern, das Fade ihres Bewußtseins, die Armut ihres Geistes treibt sie zur Gesellschaft, die nun aber aus eben solchen besteht; weil similis simili gaudet. Da wird dann gemeinschaftlich Jagd gemacht auf Kurzweil und Unterhaltung, die sie zunächst in sinnlichen Genüssen, in Vergnügungen jeder Art und endlich in Ausschweifungen suchen. Die Quelle der heillosen Verschwendung, mittelst welcher so mancher, reich ins Leben tretende Familiensohn, sein großes Erbteil, oft in unglaublich kurzer Zeit, durchbringt, ist wirklich keine andere, als nur die Langeweile, welche aus der eben geschilderten Armut und Leere des Geistes entspringt. So ein Jüngling war äußerlich reich, aber innerlich arm in die Welt geschickt und strebte nun vergeblich, durch den äußern Reichtum den innern zu ersetzen, indem er alles von außen empfangen wollte, – den Greisen analog, welche sich durch die Ausdünstung junger Mädchen zu stärken suchen. Dadurch führte denn am Ende die innere Armut auch noch die äußere herbei.
Die Wichtigkeit der beiden andern Rubriken der Güter des menschlichen Lebens brauche ich nicht hervorzuheben. Denn der Wert des Besitzes ist heutzutage so allgemein anerkannt, daß er keiner Empfehlung bedarf. Sogar hat die dritte Rubrik, gegen die zweite, eine sehr ätherische Beschaffenheit; da sie bloß in der Meinung anderer besteht. Jedoch nach Ehre, d. h. gutem Namen, hat jeder zu streben, nach Rang schon nur die, welche dem Staate dienen, und nach Ruhm gar nur äußerst wenige. Indessen wird die Ehre als ein unschätzbares Gut angesehen, und der Ruhm als das Köstlichste, was der Mensch erlangen kann, das goldene Vlies der Auserwählten: hingegen den Rang werden nur Toren dem Besitze vorziehen. Die zweite und dritte Rubrik stehn übrigens in sogenannter Wechselwirkung; sofern das habes, habeberis des Petronius seine Richtigkeit hat, und, umgekehrt, die günstige Meinung anderer, in allen ihren Formen, oft zum Besitze verhilft.
Musean translation
Machine-assisted translation from the German, following the 1913 Ernst Ohle edition.
The Fundamental Division.
Aristotle (Eth. Nicom. I, 8) divided the goods of human life into three classes: external goods, goods of the soul, and goods of the body. Retaining nothing from this division but the number three, I say that what determines the differences in the lot of mortals can be traced to three fundamental conditions. They are:
1 What a person is: personality, then, in the broadest sense. This includes health, strength, beauty, temperament, moral character, intelligence, and its cultivation.
2 What a person has: property and possessions in every sense.
3 What a person represents: as is well known, this expression means what someone is in the minds of others—properly speaking, how others represent that person to themselves. It therefore consists in their opinion of the person and falls into honor, rank, and fame.
The differences to be considered under the first heading are those that nature itself has established among human beings. This already suggests that their influence on happiness or unhappiness will be far more essential and pervasive than the differences listed under the next two headings, which arise merely from human arrangements. Compared with genuine personal advantages—a great mind or a great heart—all the advantages of rank, birth, even royal birth, wealth, and the like stand as stage kings do to real ones. Metrodorus, Epicurus's first disciple, already entitled a chapter: The cause of happiness that lies within us is greater than that which arises from circumstances. (The cause of happiness that comes from ourselves is greater than the cause that arises from things.—Cf. Clemens Alex. Strom. II, 21, p. 362 of the Würzburg edition of the opp. polem.) And certainly, for a person's well-being, indeed for the whole manner of existence, the chief consideration is plainly what takes place or passes away within. Here lies the immediate sense of inward ease or unease, which is primarily the result of feeling, willing, and thinking; everything outside has only an indirect influence on it. The same external events or circumstances therefore affect each person quite differently, and even in the same surroundings everyone lives in a different world. For our immediate dealings are only with our own representations, feelings, and movements of will: external things influence us only insofar as they occasion these. The world in which each person lives depends primarily on that person's apprehension of it and thus varies with the differences between minds: accordingly it will be poor, insipid, and shallow, or rich, interesting, and full of meaning. Someone who envies another the interesting events encountered in life ought rather to envy the power of apprehension that gave those events the significance they possess in the account of them: the very event that appears so interesting in a gifted mind would, apprehended by a shallow, commonplace mind, be merely another dull scene from everyday life. This is shown most strikingly in certain poems by Goethe and Byron, evidently founded on actual occurrences: a foolish reader may envy the poet the delightful incident instead of the powerful imagination capable of making something so great and beautiful out of a fairly ordinary event. Likewise, a melancholy person sees a tragic scene where a sanguine person sees only an interesting conflict, and a phlegmatic person something insignificant. All this rests on the fact that every reality—that is, every fulfilled present—consists of two halves, subject and object, although joined as necessarily and intimately as oxygen and hydrogen in water. With the objective half entirely unchanged but the subjective half different, present reality is therefore quite different, just as it is in the reverse case. The most beautiful and excellent objective half, paired with a dull, inferior subjective half, still produces an inferior reality and present—like a beautiful landscape in bad weather, or reflected in a poor camera obscura. To speak more plainly: everyone is enclosed in consciousness as in a skin, and lives immediately only within it; little help can therefore come from outside. Onstage one person plays the prince, another the councilor, a third the servant or the soldier or the general, and so on. But these differences exist only outwardly; within, at the heart of all these appearances, there is the same thing: a poor actor with troubles and hardships. Life is much the same. Differences of rank and wealth assign each person a role, but no inward difference of happiness and ease necessarily corresponds to it. Here too, within everyone is the same poor fellow with troubles and hardships, differing from one person to another in their material, but in form—that is, in their actual essence—much the same for all; though there are differences of degree, these do not follow station and wealth, that is, the role. Since everything that exists and happens for a human being exists immediately only in consciousness and happens for it, the constitution of consciousness itself is plainly what matters first; in most cases it matters more than the shapes appearing within it. All splendor and pleasures reflected in a dullard's dim consciousness are very poor beside the consciousness of Cervantes as he wrote Don Quixote in an uncomfortable prison.—The objective half of the present and of reality lies in the hands of fate and is therefore changeable; the subjective half is ourselves and is therefore essentially unchangeable. Accordingly, despite every outward change, each person's life bears the same character throughout and may be compared to a series of variations on one theme. No one can escape individuality. Just as an animal, in whatever circumstances it is placed, remains confined to the narrow circle that nature has irrevocably drawn around its being—so that our efforts to make a beloved animal happy must always remain within narrow bounds, precisely because of the limits of its nature and consciousness—so it is with human beings: individuality determines in advance the measure of possible happiness. In particular, the limits of intellectual powers fix once and for all the capacity for higher enjoyment. If they are narrow, no efforts from outside, nothing other people or good fortune can do, will raise someone above the measure of ordinary, half-animal human happiness and comfort. Such a person remains dependent on sensual pleasure, a cozy and cheerful family life, low company, and vulgar pastimes; even education can do relatively little, though something, to widen that circle. For the highest, most varied, and most lasting pleasures are intellectual, however much we may deceive ourselves about this in youth; and these depend chiefly on intellectual power.—This makes clear how greatly our happiness depends on what we are, on our individuality, whereas people generally reckon only with our fate, what we have, or what we represent. Yet fate may improve; moreover, with inward wealth, we shall ask little of it. A fool, by contrast, remains a fool, a dull block a dull block, to the end, even in paradise surrounded by houris. Hence Goethe says:
People, servants, conquerors,All confess, in every age:The highest earthly happinessIs personality alone.
W. O. Divan.
That the subjective is incomparably more essential to our happiness and enjoyment than the objective is confirmed everywhere: from hunger being the best cook and the old man's indifferent gaze at the young man's goddess, up to the lives of genius and saint. Health in particular so far outweighs all external goods that a healthy beggar is truly happier than a sick king. A calm and cheerful temperament arising from perfect health and a fortunate constitution; a clear, lively, penetrating understanding that grasps things correctly; a moderate, gentle will, and consequently a good conscience—these are advantages no rank or wealth can replace. For what a person is to himself, what accompanies him into solitude and what no one can give or take away, is plainly more essential to him than anything he may possess or even what he may be in the eyes of others. A gifted person, in complete solitude, finds excellent entertainment in his own thoughts and imaginings, while for a dull person the endless succession of parties, plays, excursions, and entertainments cannot ward off tormenting boredom. A good, moderate, gentle character can be content in straitened circumstances, while a covetous, envious, or wicked one is not content amid all the wealth in the world. And for someone who constantly enjoys an extraordinary, intellectually eminent individuality, most of the pleasures generally pursued are entirely superfluous, indeed merely disturbing and burdensome. Thus Horace says of himself:
Gems, marble, ivory, Tyrrhenian statuettes, paintings,Silver, garments dyed with Gaetulian purple:Some lack these things; one has no wish to own them;
and Socrates, seeing luxury goods displayed for sale, said: "How many things there are that I do not need." What we are, then—our personality—is absolutely the first and most essential condition of happiness in life, if only because it works constantly and in every circumstance. Moreover, unlike the goods under the other two headings, it is not subject to fate and cannot be taken from us. Its value may in this respect be called absolute, in contrast to the merely relative value of the other two. From this it follows that a person is much less accessible to outside influences than people tend to suppose. Only all-powerful time asserts its rights even here: bodily and intellectual advantages gradually succumb to it; moral character alone remains beyond its reach. In this respect, admittedly, the goods under the last two headings, which time does not directly steal, would have an advantage over those under the first. A second advantage might be found in their being objective and hence, by their nature, attainable, so that everyone at least has the possibility of acquiring them; whereas the subjective is not placed in our power at all, but enters by divine right and stands unalterably fixed for life. Here, then, the following pronouncement applies inexorably:
As on the day that gave you to the worldThe sun stood in the planets' greeting,You grew at once and ever onwardBy the law that governed your beginning.So you must be: yourself you cannot flee;So said the Sibyls, so the prophets;No time and no power breaks apartThe imprinted form unfolding as it lives.
Goethe.
The only thing within our power in this respect is to use the personality we have been given to the best possible advantage: to pursue only the endeavors that suit it, to seek precisely the cultivation appropriate to it and avoid every other kind, and thus to choose the station, occupation, and way of life that fit it.
A Herculean man endowed with unusual muscular strength, whom external circumstances compel to follow a sedentary occupation, some petty, painstaking handicraft, or studies and intellectual work requiring quite different powers that are weak in him—so that he must leave precisely his outstanding powers unused—will feel unhappy all his life. Still more unhappy will be someone whose intellectual powers greatly predominate but who must leave them undeveloped and unused to carry on some common business that has no need of them, or even physical labor for which his strength is not really sufficient. Here, however, especially in youth, we must avoid the reef of presumption and not credit ourselves with an abundance of powers we do not possess.
The decided preponderance of our first heading over the other two also shows that it is wiser to work at preserving health and developing abilities than at acquiring wealth. This must not, however, be misconstrued to mean that one should neglect to acquire what is necessary and appropriate. But wealth properly speaking—that is, great abundance—can do little for our happiness. Hence many rich people feel unhappy because they lack true intellectual cultivation and knowledge, and therefore any objective interest that might equip them for intellectual occupation. What wealth can provide beyond the satisfaction of real and natural needs has little influence on our actual well-being; rather, this is disturbed by the many inevitable cares that maintaining a large fortune entails. Yet people take a thousand times more trouble to acquire wealth than intellectual cultivation, though what we are certainly contributes far more to our happiness than what we have. We therefore see many people, tirelessly busy and industrious as ants, striving from morning until night to increase the wealth they already possess. They know nothing beyond the narrow horizon of the means to this end: their minds are empty and consequently unreceptive to everything else. The highest pleasures, those of the mind, are inaccessible to them. They try in vain to replace these with the fleeting sensual pleasures, costing little time but much money, that they allow themselves in between. At the end of life, if fortune has favored them, they really do have a considerable heap of money as the result of it all, which they now leave their heirs to increase further or else squander. Such a life, although conducted with a very serious and important air, is therefore as foolish as many another that frankly took the fool's cap and bells for its emblem.
What a person possesses in himself, then, is the most essential thing for happiness in life. It is only because this is generally so very little that most people who have risen above the struggle with want feel, at bottom, just as unhappy as those still wrestling with it. Their inward emptiness, the insipidity of their consciousness, the poverty of their minds drives them into society, which consists of others just like themselves; for like delights in like. Together they hunt for diversion and entertainment, seeking it first in sensual pleasures, then in amusements of every kind, and finally in excess. The source of the ruinous extravagance by which so many sons of wealthy families, entering life rich, run through their large inheritances—often in an incredibly short time—is really nothing but the boredom arising from the poverty and emptiness of mind just described. Such a young man was sent into the world outwardly rich but inwardly poor, and now strove in vain to replace inward wealth with outward wealth, expecting to receive everything from outside—like old men who seek renewed strength from the bodily emanations of young girls. In the end, inward poverty thus brought outward poverty with it as well.
I need not emphasize the importance of the other two headings of the goods of human life. The value of possessions is so universally acknowledged today that it requires no recommendation. The third heading even has a very ethereal character beside the second, since it consists merely in the opinions of others. Everyone, however, should strive for honor—that is, a good name; only those who serve the state need strive for rank, and only a very few for fame. Yet honor is regarded as a priceless good, and fame as the most precious thing a human being can attain, the golden fleece of the chosen; only fools, by contrast, will prefer rank to possessions. The second and third headings, moreover, stand in what is called a reciprocal relationship: Petronius's if you have, you will be esteemed holds true, and conversely the favorable opinion of others, in all its forms, often helps one acquire possessions.
Plain English translation
Independent machine-assisted translation from the German, following the 1913 Ernst Ohle edition.
Basic division.
Aristotle (Eth. Nicom. I, 8) divided the good things in human life into three classes: external goods, goods of the soul, and goods of the body. Keeping nothing from this division but the number three, I say that the differences in the lot of mortals can be traced to three basic categories. They are:
1 What a person is: their personality, in the broadest sense. This includes health, strength, beauty, temperament, moral character, intelligence, and the development of that intelligence.
2 What a person has: property and possessions of every kind.
3 What a person represents: this expression commonly means what a person is in other people's minds—how others picture them. It therefore consists in other people's opinion of them, and falls into honor, rank, and fame.
The differences to be considered under the first heading are those that nature itself has placed between people. That already suggests that their effect on happiness or unhappiness will be much more fundamental and far-reaching than the differences under the next two headings, which arise merely from human arrangements. All advantages of rank, birth—even royal birth—wealth, and the like compare with genuine personal advantages, a great mind or a great heart, as stage kings compare with real ones. Already Metrodorus, Epicurus's first pupil, gave a chapter this title: The cause of happiness that lies in us is greater than the cause that comes from circumstances. (The cause of happiness that comes from ourselves is greater than the one that arises from things.—See Clemens Alex. Strom. II, 21, p. 362 of the Würzburg edition of the opp. polem.) And indeed, what matters most for a person's well-being, and for their whole way of existing, is clearly what exists or takes place within them. This is the immediate seat of inner comfort or discomfort, which results first of all from feeling, willing, and thinking. Everything outside us influences it only indirectly. So the same outward events or conditions affect each person quite differently. Even in identical surroundings, everyone lives in a different world. Each person deals directly only with their own ideas, feelings, and impulses of will. External things influence them only by bringing these about. The world each person lives in depends first of all on how they understand it, and thus varies with the differences between minds. Depending on those differences, it will be poor, dull, and shallow, or rich, interesting, and full of meaning. For example, someone who envies another person for the interesting events in their life should instead envy their power of understanding. That is what gave those events the significance they have in the person's account. The very event that looks so interesting in an intelligent mind would, in a shallow, ordinary mind, be only a dull scene from everyday life. This is particularly clear in some poems by Goethe and Byron that are plainly based on real events. A foolish reader may envy the poet for the delightful experience instead of envying the powerful imagination that could make something so great and beautiful out of a fairly ordinary incident. Similarly, a melancholic person sees a tragic scene where a cheerful person sees only an interesting conflict and an unemotional person sees something insignificant. All this rests on the fact that every reality—that is, every fully experienced present—consists of two halves, the subject and the object. They are, however, as necessarily and closely connected as oxygen and hydrogen in water. So if the objective half is exactly the same but the subjective half differs, the present reality is entirely different, just as it is in the reverse case. The finest and best objective half, combined with a dull, poor subjective half, still produces only a poor reality and present experience. It is like a beautiful landscape in bad weather, or its image in a poor camera obscura. To put it more plainly: everyone is enclosed in their consciousness as in their skin, and lives directly only within it. That is why little can be done for them from outside. Onstage, one actor plays the prince, another the councilor, a third the servant or soldier or general, and so on. But these differences exist only on the surface. Inside, at the core of each appearance, there is the same thing: a poor actor with his troubles and hardships. Life is like that too. Differences in rank and wealth give each person a role to play. But no corresponding inner difference in happiness and contentment necessarily goes with it. Here too, inside everyone is the same poor fellow with his hardships and troubles. Their subject matter may differ from one person to another, but their form—that is, their real nature—is much the same in everyone. There are differences of degree, but these by no means follow status and wealth, that is, the role. Everything that exists or happens for a person is always immediately present only in their consciousness and happens for it. Clearly, then, the nature of consciousness itself is what matters most. In most cases it counts for more than the forms that appear within it. All the splendor and pleasures reflected in a fool's dull consciousness are very poor beside the consciousness of Cervantes as he wrote Don Quixote in an uncomfortable prison.—The objective half of the present and of reality is in the hands of fate, and is therefore changeable. We ourselves are the subjective half, so it is essentially unchangeable. Accordingly, despite all outward changes, each person's life keeps the same character throughout. It can be compared to a series of variations on one theme. No one can escape their own individuality. An animal, whatever conditions it is placed in, remains confined to the narrow circle nature has irrevocably drawn for its being. For example, our efforts to make a beloved animal happy must always stay within narrow limits, precisely because of these limits to its being and consciousness. The same holds for human beings: their individuality sets the measure of their possible happiness in advance. In particular, the limits of their mental powers fix once and for all their capacity for higher enjoyment. If those limits are narrow, no outside efforts, nothing that people or good fortune do for them, can lift them above the measure of ordinary, half-animal human happiness and comfort. They remain dependent on sensual pleasure, a cozy and cheerful family life, low-level social company, and commonplace amusements. Even education can do little overall to widen that circle, though it can do something. For the highest, most varied, and most lasting pleasures are intellectual, however much we may deceive ourselves about this in our youth. And these depend chiefly on mental power.—This makes it clear how much our happiness depends on what we are, on our individuality. Yet people usually consider only our fate, only what we have or what we represent. But fate can improve, and someone with inner wealth will not ask much of it anyway. A fool, by contrast, remains a fool, and a dull blockhead remains a dull blockhead to the end, even in paradise surrounded by houris. That is why Goethe says:
People, servants, and conquerorsAdmit it in every age:The greatest happiness of earth's childrenIs simply personality.
W. O. Divan.
Everything confirms that the subjective matters far more to our happiness and enjoyment than the objective. This ranges from the fact that hunger is the best cook and an old man looks indifferently at a young man's goddess, all the way up to the life of a genius or a saint. Health in particular outweighs all external goods so greatly that a healthy beggar really is happier than a sick king. A calm, cheerful temperament arising from perfect health and a well-made constitution; a clear, lively, penetrating mind that understands correctly; a moderate, gentle will and therefore a good conscience: these are advantages no rank or wealth can replace. What someone is in themselves, what accompanies them into solitude and what no one can give them or take away, plainly matters more to them than everything they may possess or may be in other people's eyes. A person with an active mind finds excellent entertainment in their own thoughts and imaginings, even in complete solitude. A dull person, on the other hand, cannot escape agonizing boredom through an endless change of parties, shows, outings, and amusements. A good, moderate, gentle character can be content in poor circumstances. A greedy, envious, or malicious character cannot be content even with all the wealth in the world. And for someone who constantly enjoys an exceptional, intellectually outstanding individuality, most of the pleasures people generally seek are completely unnecessary, indeed only distracting and burdensome. That is why Horace says of himself:
Gems, marble, ivory, Etruscan statuettes, paintings,Silver, clothes dyed with Gaetulian purple:Some have none of these; one does not care to have them;
and Socrates, seeing luxury goods displayed for sale, said, "How many things there are that I do not need." So what we are, our personality, is absolutely the first and most important thing for our happiness in life. This is already true because it is constantly at work under all circumstances. Besides, unlike the goods in the other two categories, it is not subject to fate and cannot be snatched away from us. In that sense its value can be called absolute, as opposed to the merely relative value of the other two. It follows that a person is much less open to influence from outside than people tend to think. Only all-powerful time asserts its rights here too. Physical and mental advantages gradually yield to it; moral character alone remains beyond its reach. In this respect, the goods in the latter two categories would admittedly have an advantage over those in the first, since time does not directly steal them away. A second advantage might be that, being objective, they are by their nature obtainable. At least the possibility of acquiring them lies open to everyone. The subjective, by contrast, is not in our power at all. It enters by divine right and stays fixed and unchangeable for our whole life. Here, then, the following words hold without mercy:
As on the day that gave you to the worldThe sun stood to greet the planets,You grew at once, and have kept growing,Under the law with which you first began.This you must be; you cannot escape yourself,So the sibyls said, so the prophets;And neither time nor any power can break apartThe stamped form that develops as it lives.
Goethe.
The only thing in our power here is to use our given personality to the best possible advantage. We should therefore pursue only aims that suit it, seek precisely the kind of development appropriate to it, and avoid every other kind. In short, we should choose the position, occupation, and way of life that fit it.
A man built like Hercules, gifted with unusual muscle power, may be forced by outside circumstances into a sedentary occupation, some fussy, painstaking manual task, or studies and mental work. These require quite different powers, in which he is weaker, while leaving his exceptional powers unused. Such a man will feel unhappy all his life. Still more unhappy is someone whose intellectual powers greatly predominate, but who must leave them undeveloped and unused to carry on an ordinary trade that does not need them, or even do physical labor for which his strength is not quite adequate. Here, however, especially in youth, we must avoid the pitfall of overconfidence. We must not credit ourselves with an abundance of powers we do not have.
The decisive superiority of our first category over the other two also shows that it is wiser to work at preserving health and developing abilities than at acquiring wealth. This must not be misunderstood to mean that we should neglect to earn what is necessary and suitable. But wealth in the strict sense—a great surplus—can do little for our happiness. Many rich people therefore feel unhappy because they have no real mental cultivation, no knowledge, and consequently no objective interest that might enable them to occupy their minds. What wealth can provide beyond satisfying real and natural needs has little effect on our actual well-being. Rather, our well-being is disturbed by the many unavoidable worries involved in preserving a large fortune. Nevertheless, people make a thousand times more effort to acquire wealth than to cultivate their minds. Yet what we are certainly contributes much more to our happiness than what we have. So we see many a man restlessly busy, industrious as an ant, working from morning to night to increase the wealth he already owns. He knows nothing beyond the narrow horizon of the means to this end. His mind is empty and therefore unreceptive to everything else. The highest pleasures, the intellectual ones, are closed to him. He tries in vain to replace them with the fleeting sensual pleasures he allows himself now and then, which cost little time but much money. At the end of his life, if fortune has been kind, its result is indeed a very large heap of money before him. He now leaves it to his heirs to increase that heap further or to spend it. Such a life, though carried on with a thoroughly solemn and important air, is therefore just as foolish as many another life that openly took the fool's cap as its symbol.
So what a person has in themselves matters most for their happiness in life. As a rule, however, this is so very little that most people who have got beyond the struggle against need feel fundamentally just as unhappy as those still caught in it. Their inner emptiness, their dull consciousness, and their poverty of mind drive them into company. But the company consists of people just like them, because like delights in like. Together they hunt for amusement and entertainment. They seek these first in sensual pleasures, in enjoyments of every kind, and finally in excesses. The source of the ruinous extravagance through which many a rich young son of a family spends his large inheritance, often in an unbelievably short time, is really nothing but boredom. It springs from the poverty and emptiness of mind just described. Such a young man was sent into the world outwardly rich but inwardly poor. He then tried in vain to replace inner wealth with outer wealth, wanting to receive everything from outside—like old men who try to strengthen themselves by the bodily exhalations of young girls. In the end his inner poverty brought outward poverty as well.
I need not emphasize the importance of the other two categories of good things in human life. The value of possessions is so universally recognized today that it needs no recommendation. Compared with the second category, the third is actually rather insubstantial, since it consists only in other people's opinion. Everyone, however, should strive for honor, meaning a good name. Only those who serve the state should strive for rank, and only a very few for fame. Honor is nevertheless regarded as a priceless good, and fame as the most precious thing a person can attain, the golden fleece of the chosen few. Only fools, on the other hand, would prefer rank to possessions. The second and third categories also stand in what is called a reciprocal relationship. Petronius's If you have, you will be esteemed is true; and conversely, the favorable opinion of others, in all its forms, often helps a person gain possessions.
About this section
Chapter 1 is part of Aphorisms on the Wisdom of Life by Arthur Schopenhauer. This page sets the German original beside 2 direct-source translations, so any line can be checked against the source. It is chapter 2 of 7 in the work, which is kept in the European tradition.
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