,,the ,,essays ,,of ,,arthur            
,,schopenhauer3 ,,the ,,art ,,of        
,,controversy    ,,translated ,,by      
,t4 ,,bailey ,,saunders1 ,m4,a4         
,,contents4      ,,the ,,art ,,of       
,,controversy--    #a4 ,,preliminary3   
,,logic ,,and ,,dialectic    #b4 ,,the  
,,basis ,,of ,,all ,,dialectic    #c4   
,,stratagems       ,,on ,,the           
,,comparative ,,place ,,of ,,interest   
,,and ,,beauty ,,in ,,works ,,of ,,art  
,,psychological ,,observations          
,,on ,,the ,,wisdom ,,of ,,life3        
,,aphorisms       ,,genius ,,and        
,,virtue          ,,translator',s       
,,preface4    ,the volume now before the
 reader is a tardy addition to a series 
in  which ,i have endeavoured to present
 ,schopenhauer's minor writings in  an  
adequate form4    ,its contents are     
drawn entirely from his posthumous      
papers4 ,a  selection of them was given 
to the world some three of four years   
after his death by his friend and       
literary executor1 ,julius  ,frauenstdt1

 who for this and other offices of      
piety1 has received  less recognition   
than he deserves4 ,the papers then      
published have  recently been issued    
afresh1 with considerable additions and 
corrections1 by ,dr4 ,eduard ,grisebach1
 who is also entitled to  gratitude for 
the care with which he has followed the 
text of the  manuscripts1 now in the    
,royal ,library at ,berlin1 and for     
having drawn  attention--although in    
terms that are unnecessarily severe--to 
a  number of faults and failings on the 
part of the previous editor4    ,the    
fact that all ,schopenhauer's works1    
together with a volume of his           
correspondence1 may now be obtained in a
 certain cheap collection of  the best  
national and foreign literature         
displayed in almost every  bookshop in  
,germany1 is sufficient evidence that in
 his own country  the writer's          
popularity is still very great2 nor does
 the demand for  translations indicate  
that his fame has at all diminished     

abroad4 ,the  favour with which the new 
edition of his posthumous papers has    
been  received induces me1 therefore1 to
 resume a task which ,i thought1 five   
years ago1 that ,i had finally          
completed2 and it is my intention to    
bring out one more volume1 selected     
partly from these papers and  partly    
from his ,parerga4    ,a small part of  
the essay on ,the ,art of ,controversy  
was published in  ,schopenhauer's       
lifetime1 in the chapter of the ,parerga
 headed ,zur  ,logik und ,dialektik4    
,the intelligent reader will discover   
that a good  deal of its contents is of 
an ironical character4 ,as regards the  
last  three essays ,i must observe that 
,i have omitted such passages  as appear
 to be no longer of any general interest
 or otherwise  unsuitable4 ,i must also 
confess to having taken one or two      
liberties  with the titles1 in order    
that they may the more effectively      
fulfil  the purpose for which titles    
exist4 ,in other respects ,i have       

adhered  to the original with the kind  
of fidelity which aims at producing  an 
impression as nearly as possible similar
 to that produced by the  original4     
,t4,b4,s4    ,february1 #ahif           
,,the ,,art ,,of ,,controversy4         
,,preliminary3 ,,logic ,,and            
,,dialectic4    ,by the ancients1 ,logic
 and ,dialectic were used as synonymous 
terms2  although ,greek3 logizesthai1 to
 think over1 to consider1 to  calculate1
 and ,greek3 dialegesthai1 to converse1 
are two very  different things4    ,the 
name ,dialectic was1 as we are informed 
by ,diogenes ,laertius1 first  used by  
,plato2 and in the ,phaedrus1 ,sophist1 
,republic1 bk4 vii41 and  elsewhere1 we 
find that by ,dialectic he means the    
regular employment  of the reason1 and  
skill in the practice of it4 ,aristotle 
also uses  the word in this sense2 but1 
according to ,laurentius ,valla1 he was 
the first to use ,logic too in a similar
 way4#a ,dialectic1 therefore1  seems to
 be an older word than ,logic4 ,cicero  

and ,quintilian use the  words in the   
same general signification4#b           
,footnote #a3 ,he speaks of ,greek3     
dyscherelai logicai1 that is1  difficult
 points1 ,greek3 protasis logicae aporia
 logicae    ,footnote #b3 ,cic4 in      
,lucullo3 ,dialecticam inventam esse1   
veri et  falsi quasi disceptatricem4    
,topica1 c4 #b3 ,stoici enim judicandi  
vias  diligenter persecuti sunt1 ea     
scientia1 quam ,dialecticen appellant4  
,quint41 lib4 ii41 #ab3 ,itaque haec    
pars dialecticae1 sive illam            
disputatricem dicere malimus2 and with  
him this latter word appears  to be the 
,latin equivalent for ,dialectic4 7,so  
far according to ,petri  ,rami          
dialectica1 ,audomari ,talaei           
praelectionibus illustrata4 #aefi47     
,this use of the words and synonymous   
terms lasted through the ,middle  ,ages 
into modern times2 in fact1 until the   
present day4 ,but more  recently1 and in
 particular by ,kant1 ,dialectic has    
often been employed  in a bad sense1 as 

meaning the art of sophistical          
controversy2  and hence ,logic has been 
preferred1 as of the two the more       
innocent  designation4 ,nevertheless1   
both originally meant the same thing2   
and  in the last few years they have    
again been recognised as synonymous4    
,it is a pity that the words have thus  
been used from of old1 and that  ,i am  
not quite at liberty to distinguish     
their meanings4 ,otherwise1 ,i  should  
have preferred to define ,logic 7from   
,greek3 logos1 word  and reason1 which  
are inseparable7 as the science of the  
laws of  thought1 that is1 of the method
 of reason2 and ,dialectic 7from        
,greek3 dialegesthai1 to converse--and  
every conversation  communicates either 
facts or opinions1 that is to say1 it is
  historical or deliberative7 as the art
 of disputation1 in the modern  sense of
 the word4 ,it it clear1 then1 that     
,logic deals with a subject  of a purely
  priori character1 separable in        
definition from  experience1 namely1 the

 laws of thought1 the process of reason 
or the  ,greek3 logos1 the laws1 that   
is1 which reason follows when it is     
left to itself and not hindered1 as in  
the case of solitary thought on  the    
part of a rational being who is in no   
way misled4 ,dialectic1 on  the other   
hand1 would treat of the intercourse    
between two rational  beings who1       
because they are rational1 ought to     
think in common1 but  who1 as soon as   
they cease to agree like two clocks     
keeping exactly  the same time1 create a
 disputation1 or intellectual contest4  
,regarded  as purely rational beings1   
the individuals would1 ,i say1          
necessarily  be in agreement1 and their 
variation springs from the difference   
essential to individuality2 in other    
words1 it is drawn from  experience4    
,logic1 therefore1 as the science of    
thought1 or the science of the  process 
of pure reason1 should be capable of    
being constructed   priori4 ,dialectic1 
for the most part1 can be constructed   

only   posteriori2 that is to say1 we   
may learn its rules by an experiential  
knowledge of the disturbance which pure 
thought suffers through the  difference 
of individuality manifested in the      
intercourse between  two rational       
beings1 and also by acquaintance with   
the means which  disputants adopt in    
order to make good against one another  
their own  individual thought1 and to   
show that it is pure and objective4 ,for
  human nature is such that if ,a4 and  
,b4 are engaged in thinking in  common1 
and are communicating their opinions to 
one another on any  subject1 so long as 
it is not a mere fact of history1 and   
,a4 perceives  that ,b4's thoughts on   
one and the same subject are not the    
same as his  own1 he does not begin by  
revising his own process of thinking1 so
 as  to discover any mistake which he   
may have made1 but he assumes that  the 
mistake has occurred in ,b4's4 ,in other
 words1 man is naturally  obstinate2 and
 this quality in him is attended with   

certain results1  treated of in the     
branch of knowledge which ,i should like
 to call  ,dialectic1 but which1 in     
order to avoid misunderstanding1 ,i     
shall call  ,controversial or ,eristical
 ,dialectic4 ,accordingly1 it is the    
branch  of knowledge which treats of the
 obstinacy natural to man4 ,eristic is  
only a harsher name for the same thing4 
,controversial ,dialectic is the art of 
disputing1 and of disputing in  such a  
way as to hold one's own1 whether one is
 in the right or the  wrong--per fas et 
nefas4#a ,a man may be objectively in   
the right1  and nevertheless in the eyes
 of bystanders1 and sometimes in his    
own1  he may come off worst4 ,for       
example1 ,i may advance a proof of some 
assertion1 and my adversary may refute  
the proof1 and thus appear to  have     
refuted the assertion1 for which there  
may1 nevertheless1 be  other proofs4 ,in
 this case1 of course1 my adversary and 
,i change  places3 he comes off best1   
although1 as a matter of fact1 he is in 

the  wrong4    ,footnote #a3 ,according 
to ,diogenes ,laertius1 v41 #bh1        
,aristotle put  ,rhetoric and ,dialectic
 together1 as aiming at persuasion1     
,greek3 to  pithanon2 and ,analytic and 
,philosophy as aiming at truth4         
,aristotle  does1 indeed1 distinguish   
between 7#a7 ,logic1 or ,analytic1 as   
the  theory or method of arriving at    
true or apodeictic conclusions2 and     
7#b7 ,dialectic as the method of        
arriving at conclusions that are        
accepted or pass current as true1       
,greek3 endoxa probabilia2  conclusions 
in regard to which it is not taken for  
granted that they  are false1 and also  
not taken for granted that they are true
 in  themselves1 since that is not the  
point4 ,what is this but the art of     
being in the right1 whether one has any 
reason for being so or not1 in  other   
words1 the art of attaining the         
appearance of truth1 regardless  of its 
substance8 ,that is1 then1 as ,i put it 
above4    ,aristotle divides all        

conclusions into logical and            
dialectical1 in the  manner described1  
and then into eristical4 7#c7 ,eristic  
is the method  by which the form of the 
conclusion is correct1 but the          
premisses1 the  materials from which it 
is drawn1 are not true1 but only appear 
to be  true4 ,finally 7#d7 ,sophistic is
 the method in which the form of the    
conclusion is false1 although it seems  
correct4 ,these three last  properly    
belong to the art of ,controversial     
,dialectic1 as they have  no objective  
truth in view1 but only the appearance  
of it1 and pay  no regard to truth      
itself2 that is to say1 they aim at     
victory4  ,aristotle's book on          
,sophistic ,conclusions was edited apart
 from the  others1 and at a later date4 
,it was the last book of his ,dialectic4
    ,if the reader asks how this is1 ,i 
reply that it is simply the  natural    
baseness of human nature4 ,if human     
nature were not base1 but  thoroughly   
honourable1 we should in every debate   

have no other aim  than the discovery of
 truth2 we should not in the least care 
whether  the truth proved to be in      
favour of the opinion which we had begun
 by  expressing1 or of the opinion of   
our adversary4 ,that we should  regard  
as a matter of no moment1 or1 at any    
rate1 of very secondary  consequence2   
but1 as things are1 it is the main      
concern4 ,our  innate vanity1 which is  
particularly sensitive in reference to  
our  intellectual powers1 will not      
suffer us to allow that our first       
position was wrong and our adversary's  
right4 ,the way out of this  difficulty 
would be simply to take the trouble     
always to form a  correct judgment4 ,for
 this a man would have to think before  
he spoke4  ,but1 with most men1 innate  
vanity is accompanied by loquacity and  
innate dishonesty4 ,they speak before   
they think2 and even though they  may   
afterwards perceive that they are wrong1
 and that what they assert  is false1   
they want it to seem the contrary4 ,the 

interest in truth1  which may be        
presumed to have been their only motive 
when they stated  the proposition       
alleged to be true1 now gives way to the
 interests of  vanity3 and so1 for the  
sake of vanity1 what is true must seem  
false1  and what is false must seem     
true4    ,however1 this very dishonesty1
 this persistence in a proposition which
  seems false even to ourselves1 has    
something to be said for it4 ,it  often 
happens that we begin with the firm     
conviction of the truth  of our         
statement2 but our opponent's argument  
appears to refute it4  ,should we       
abandon our position at once1 we may    
discover later on  that we were right   
after all2 the proof we offered was     
false1 but  nevertheless there was a    
proof for our statement which was true4 
,the  argument which would have been our
 salvation did not occur to us at  the  
moment4 ,hence we make it a rule to     
attack a counter-argument1 even  though 
to all appearances it is true and       

forcible1 in the belief that  its truth 
is only superficial1 and that in the    
course of the dispute  another argument 
will occur to us by which we may upset  
it1 or succeed  in confirming the truth 
of our statement4 ,in this way we are   
almost  compelled to become dishonest2  
or1 at any rate1 the temptation to do   
so is very great4 ,thus it is that the  
weakness of our intellect and  the      
perversity of our will lend each other  
mutual support2 and that1  generally1 a 
disputant fights not for truth1 but for 
his proposition1  as though it were a   
battle pro aris et focis4 ,he sets to   
work per  fas et nefas2 nay1 as we have 
seen1 he cannot easily do otherwise4    
,as a rule1 then1 every man will insist 
on maintaining whatever he  has said1   
even though for the moment he may       
consider it false or  doubtful4#a       
,footnote #a3 ,machiavelli recommends   
his ,prince to make use of every  moment
 that his neighbour is weak1 in order to
 attack him2 as  otherwise his neighbour

 may do the same4 ,if honour and        
fidelity  prevailed in the world1 it    
would be a different matter2 but as     
these  are qualities not to be expected1
 a man must not practise them  himself1 
because he will meet with a bad return4 
,it is just the same  in a dispute3 if  
,i allow that my opponent is right as   
soon as he seems  to be so1 it is       
scarcely probable that he will do the   
same when the  position is reversed2 and
 as he acts wrongly1 ,i am compelled to 
act  wrongly too4 ,it is easy to say    
that we must yield to truth1 without    
any prepossession in favour of our own  
statements2 but we cannot  assume that  
our opponent will do it1 and therefore  
we cannot do  it either4 ,nay1 if ,i    
were to abandon the position on which ,i
 had  previously bestowed much thought1 
as soon as it appeared that he was      
right1 it might easily happen that ,i   
might be misled by a momentary          
impression1 and give up the truth in    
order to accept an error4    ,to some   

extent every man is armed against such a
 procedure by his own  cunning and      
villainy4 ,he learns by daily           
experience1 and thus comes  to have his 
own natural ,dialectic1 just as he has  
his own natural  ,logic4 ,but his       
,dialectic is by no means as safe a     
guide as his ,logic4  ,it is not so easy
 for any one to think or draw an        
inference contrary  to the laws of      
,logic2 false judgments are frequent1   
false conclusions  very rare4 ,a man    
cannot easily be deficient in natural   
,logic1 but he  may very easily be      
deficient in natural ,dialectic1 which  
is a gift  apportioned in unequal       
measure4 ,in so far natural ,dialectic  
resembles  the faculty of judgment1     
which differs in degree with every man2 
while  reason1 strictly speaking1 is the
 same4 ,for it often happens that in  a 
matter in which a man is really in the  
right1 he is confounded or  refuted by  
merely superficial arguments2 and if he 
emerges victorious  from a contest1 he  

owes it very often not so much to the   
correctness  of his judgment in stating 
his proposition1 as to the cunning and  
address with which he defended it4      
,here1 as in all other cases1 the best  
gifts are born with a man2              
nevertheless1 much may be done to make  
him a master of this art by  practice1  
and also by a consideration of the      
tactics which may be used  to defeat an 
opponent1 or which he uses himself for a
 similar purpose4  ,therefore1 even     
though ,logic may be of no very real1   
practical use1  ,dialectic may certainly
 be so2 and ,aristotle1 too1 seems to me
 to  have drawn up his ,logic proper1 or
 ,analytic1 as a foundation and         
preparation for his ,dialectic1 and to  
have made this his chief  business4     
,logic is concerned with the mere form  
of propositions2  ,dialectic1 with their
 contents or matter--in a word1 with    
their  substance4 ,it was proper1       
therefore1 to consider the general form 
of  all propositions before proceeding  

to particulars4    ,aristotle does not  
define the object of ,dialectic as      
exactly as ,i  have done it here2 for   
while he allows that its principal      
object  is disputation1 he declares at  
the same time that it is also the       
discovery of truth4#a ,again1 he says1  
later on1 that if1 from the             
philosophical point of view1            
propositions are dealt with according to
  their truth1 ,dialectic regards them  
according to their plausibility1  or the
 measure in which they will win the     
approval and assent of  others4#b ,he is
 aware that the objective truth of a    
proposition must  be distinguished and  
separated from the way in which it is   
pressed  home1 and approbation won for  
it2 but he fails to draw a sufficiently 
sharp distinction between these two     
aspects of the matter1 so as to  reserve
 ,dialectic for the latter alone4#c ,the
 rules which he often  gives for        
,dialectic contain some of those which  
properly belong to  ,logic2 and hence it

 appears to me that he has not provided 
a clear  solution of the problem4       
,footnote #a3 ,topica1 bk4 i41 #b4      
,footnote #b3 ,ib41 #ab4    ,footnote   
#c3 ,on the other hand1 in his book ,de 
,sophisticis ,elenchis1  he takes too   
much trouble to separate ,dialectic from
 ,sophistic  and ,eristic1 where the    
distinction is said to consist in this1 
that  dialectical conclusions are true  
in their form and their contents1  while
 sophistical and eristical conclusions  
are false4    ,eristic so far differs   
from ,sophistic that1 while the master  
of  ,eristic aims at mere victory1 the  
,sophist looks to the reputation1  and  
with it1 the monetary rewards which he  
will gain4 ,but whether a  proposition  
is true in respect of its contents is   
far too uncertain a  matter to form the 
foundation of the distinction in        
question2 and  it is a matter on which  
the disputant least of all can arrive at
  certainty2 nor is it disclosed in any 
very sure form even by the  result of   

the disputation4 ,therefore1 when       
,aristotle speaks of  ,dialectic1 we    
must include in it ,sophistic1 ,eristic1
 and ,peirastic1  and define it as the  
art of getting the best of it in a      
dispute1 in  which1 unquestionably1 the 
safest plan is to be in the right to    
begin  with2 but this in itself is not  
enough in the existing disposition  of  
mankind1 and1 on the other hand1 with   
the weakness of the human  intellect1 it
 is not altogether necessary4 ,other    
expedients are  required1 which1 just   
because they are unnecessary to the     
attainment  of objective truth1 may also
 be used when a man is objectively in   
the  wrong2 and whether or not this is  
the case1 is hardly ever a matter of    
complete certainty4    ,i am of opinion1
 therefore1 that a sharper distinction  
should be drawn  between ,dialectic and 
,logic than ,aristotle has given us2    
that to ,logic  we should assign        
objective truth as far as it is merely  
formal1 and  that ,dialectic should be  

confined to the art of gaining one's    
point1  and contrarily1 that ,sophistic 
and ,eristic should not be distinguished
  from ,dialectic in ,aristotle's       
fashion1 since the difference which he  
draws rests on objective and material   
truth2 and in regard to what  this is1  
we cannot attain any clear certainty    
before discussion2 but  we are          
compelled1 with ,pilate1 to ask1 ,what  
is truth8 ,for truth  is in the depths1 
,greek3 en butho hae halaetheia 7a      
saying of  ,democritus1 ,diog4 ,laert41 
ix41 #gb74 ,two men often engage in a   
warm  dispute1 and then return to their 
homes each of the other's opinion1      
which he has exchanged for his own4 ,it 
is easy to say that in every  dispute we
 should have no other aim than the      
advancement of truth2 but  before       
dispute no one knows where it is1 and   
through his opponent's  arguments and   
his own a man is misled4    ,we must    
always keep the subject of one branch of
 knowledge quite  distinct from that of 

any other4 ,to form a clear idea of the 
province  of ,dialectic1 we must pay no 
attention to objective truth1 which is  
an  affair of ,logic2 we must regard it 
simply as the art of getting the  best  
of it in a dispute1 which1 as we have   
seen1 is all the easier if  we are      
actually in the right4 ,in itself       
,dialectic has nothing to do  but to    
show how a man may defend himself       
against attacks of every  kind1 and     
especially against dishonest attacks2   
and1 in the  same fashion1 how he may   
attack another man's statement without  
contradicting himself1 or generally     
without being defeated4 ,the  discovery 
of objective truth must be separated    
from the art of winning  acceptance for 
propositions2 for objective truth is an 
entirely  different matter3 it is the   
business of sound judgment1 reflection  
and  experience1 for which there is no  
special art4    ,such1 then1 is the aim 
of ,dialectic4 ,it has been defined as  
the ,logic  of appearance2 but the      

definition is a wrong one1 as in that   
case it  could only be used to repel    
false propositions4 ,but even when a man
  has the right on his side1 he needs   
,dialectic in order to defend and       
maintain it2 he must know what the      
dishonest tricks are1 in order to  meet 
them2 nay1 he must often make use of    
them himself1 so as to beat  the enemy  
with his own weapons4    ,accordingly1  
in a dialectical contest we must put    
objective truth  aside1 or1 rather1 we  
must regard it as an accidental         
circumstance1  and look only to the     
defence of our own position and the     
refutation of  our opponent's4    ,in   
following out the rules to this end1 no 
respect should be paid to  objective    
truth1 because we usually do not know   
where the truth lies4  ,as ,i have said1
 a man often does not himself know      
whether he is in the  right or not2 he  
often believes it1 and is mistaken3 both
 sides often  believe it4 ,truth is in  
the depths4 ,at the beginning of a      

contest each  man believes1 as a rule1  
that right is on his side2 in the course
 of  it1 both become doubtful1 and the  
truth is not determined or confirmed    
until the close4    ,dialectic1 then1   
need have nothing to do with truth1 as  
little as the  fencing master considers 
who is in the right when a dispute leads
 to a  duel4 ,thrust and parry is the   
whole business4 ,dialectic is the art of
  intellectual fencing2 and it is only  
when we so regard it that we can  erect 
it into a branch of knowledge4 ,for if  
we take purely objective  truth as our  
aim1 we are reduced to mere ,logic2 if  
we take the  maintenance of false       
propositions1 it is mere ,sophistic2 and
 in either  case it would have to be    
assumed that we were aware of what was  
true  and what was false2 and it is     
seldom that we have any clear idea of   
the truth beforehand4 ,the true         
conception of ,dialectic is1 then1 that 
which we have formed3 it is the art of  
intellectual fencing used for  the      

purpose of getting the best of it in a  
dispute2 and1 although the  name        
,eristic would be more suitable1 it is  
more correct to call it  controversial  
,dialectic1 ,dialectica eristica4       
,dialectic in this sense of the word has
 no other aim but to reduce  to a       
regular system and collect and exhibit  
the arts which most men  employ when    
they observe1 in a dispute1 that truth  
is not on their  side1 and still attempt
 to gain the day4 ,hence1 it would be   
very  inexpedient to pay any regard to  
objective truth or its advancement in  a
 science of ,dialectic2 since this is   
not done in that original and  natural  
,dialectic innate in men1 where they    
strive for nothing but  victory4 ,the   
science of ,dialectic1 in one sense of  
the word1 is mainly  concerned to       
tabulate and analyse dishonest          
stratagems1 in order that  in a real    
debate they may be at once recognised   
and defeated4 ,it is  for this very     
reason that ,dialectic must admittedly  

take victory1 and  not objective truth1 
for its aim and purpose4    ,i am not   
aware that anything has been done in    
this direction1  although ,i have made  
inquiries far and wide4#a ,it is1       
therefore1 an  uncultivated soil4 ,to   
accomplish our purpose1 we must draw    
from our  experience2 we must observe   
how in the debates which often arise in 
our intercourse with our fellow-men this
 or that stratagem is employed  by one  
side or the other4 ,by finding out the  
common elements in tricks  repeated in  
different forms1 we shall be enabled to 
exhibit certain  general stratagems     
which may be advantageous1 as well for  
our own use1  as for frustrating others 
if they use them4    ,footnote #a3      
,diogenes ,laertes tells us that among  
the numerous  writings on ,rhetoric by  
,theophrastus1 all of which have been   
lost1  there was one entitled ,greek3   
,agonistikon taes peri tous eristikous  
gogous theorias4 ,that would have been  
just what we want4    ,what follows is  

to be regarded as a first attempt4      
,,the ,,basis ,,of ,,all ,,dialectic4   
,first of all1 we must consider the     
essential nature of every dispute3  what
 it is that really takes place in it4   
,our opponent has stated a thesis1 or we
 ourselves1--it is all one4  ,there are 
two modes of refuting it1 and two       
courses that we may  pursue4    ,i4 ,the
 modes are 7#a7 ad rem1 7#b7 ad hominem 
or ex concessis4  ,that is to say3 ,we  
may show either that the proposition is 
not in  accordance with the nature of   
things1 i4e41 with absolute1 objective  
truth2 or that it is inconsistent with  
other statements or admissions  of our  
opponent1 i4e41 with truth as it appears
 to him4 ,the latter  mode of arguing a 
question produces only a relative       
conviction1 and  makes no difference    
whatever to the objective truth of the  
matter4    ,,ii4 ,the two courses that  
we may pursue are 7#a7 the direct1 and  
7#b7 the  indirect refutation4 ,the     
direct attacks the reason for the       

thesis2 the  indirect1 its results4 ,the
 direct refutation shows that the thesis
 is  not true2 the indirect1 that it    
cannot be true4    ,the direct course   
admits of a twofold procedure4 ,either  
we may  show that the reasons for the   
statement are false 7nego majorem1      
minorem72 or we may admit the reasons or
 premisses1 but show that the  statement
 does not follow from them 7nego        
consequentiam72 that is1  we attack the 
conclusion or form of the syllogism4    
,the direct refutation makes use either 
of the diversion or of the  instance4   
7a7 ,the diversion4--,we accept our     
opponent's proposition as true1  and    
then show what follows from it when we  
bring it into connection  with some     
other proposition acknowledged to be    
true4 ,we use the two  propositions as  
the premisses of a syllogism giving a   
conclusion which  is manifestly false1  
as contradicting either the nature of   
things1#a  or other statements of our   
opponent himself2 that is to say1 the   

conclusion is false either ad rem or ad 
hominem4#b ,consequently1  our          
opponent's proposition must have been   
false2 for1 while true  premisses can   
give only a true conclusion1 false      
premisses need not  always give a false 
one4    ,footnote #a3 ,if it is in      
direct contradiction with a perfectly   
undoubted1 truth1 we have reduced our   
opponent's position ad  absurdum4       
,footnote #b3 ,socrates1 in ,hippia     
,maj4 et alias4      7b7 ,the instance1 
or the example to the contrary4--,this  
consists in  refuting the general       
proposition by direct reference to      
particular  cases which are included in 
it in the way in which it is stated1 but
  to which it does not apply1 and by    
which it is therefore shown to be       
necessarily false4    ,such is the      
framework or skeleton of all forms of   
disputation2 for to  this every kind of 
controversy may be ultimately reduced4  
,the whole of  a controversy may1       
however1 actually proceed in the manner 

described1  or only appear to do so2 and
 it may be supported by genuine or      
spurious arguments4 ,it is just because 
it is not easy to make out  the truth in
 regard to this matter1 that debates are
 so long and so  obstinate4    ,nor can 
we1 in ordering the argument1 separate  
actual from apparent  truth1 since even 
the disputants are not certain about it 
beforehand4  ,therefore ,i shall        
describe the various tricks or          
stratagems without  regard to questions 
of objective truth or falsity2 for that 
is a  matter on which we have no        
assurance1 and which cannot be          
determined  previously4 ,moreover1 in   
every disputation or argument on any    
subject  we must agree about something2 
and by this1 as a principle1 we must be 
willing to judge the matter in question4
 ,we cannot argue with those  who deny  
principles3 ,contra negantem principia  
non est disputandum4      ,,stratagems4 
,i4    ,the ,extension4--,this consists 
in carrying your opponent's  proposition

 beyond its natural limits2 in giving it
 as general a  signification and as wide
 a sense as possible1 so as to          
exaggerate it2  and1 on the other hand1 
in giving your own proposition as       
restricted  a sense and as narrow limits
 as you can1 because the more general a 
statement becomes1 the more numerous are
 the objections to which it is  open4   
,the defence consists in an accurate    
statement of the point or  essential    
question at issue4    ,example #a4--;,i 
asserted that the ,english were supreme 
in drama4 ,my  opponent attempted to    
give an instance to the contrary1 and   
replied  that it was a well-known fact  
that in music1 and consequently in      
opera1 they could do nothing at all4 ,i 
repelled the attack by  reminding him   
that music was not included in dramatic 
art1 which  covered tragedy and comedy  
alone4 ,this he knew very well4 ,what he
 had  done was to try to generalise my  
proposition1 so that it would apply  to 
all theatrical representations1 and1    

consequently1 to opera and  then to     
music1 in order to make certain of      
defeating me4 ,contrarily1  we may save 
our proposition by reducing it within   
narrower limits  than we had first      
intended1 if our way of expressing it   
favours this  expedient4    ,example    
#b4--;,a4 declares that the ,peace of   
#ahad gave back their  independence to  
all the ,german towns of the ,hanseatic 
,league4 ,b4 gives  an instance to the  
contrary by reciting the fact that      
,dantzig1 which  received its           
independence from ,buonaparte1 lost it  
by that ,peace4 ,a4  saves himself thus3
 ,i said 'all ,german towns1' and       
,dantzig was in  ,poland4    ,this trick
 was mentioned by ,aristotle in the     
,topica 7bk4 viii41 cc4  #aa1 #ab74     
,example #c4--,lamarck1 in his          
,philosophic ,zoologique 7vol4 i41 p4   
#bjh71 states that the polype has no    
feeling1 because it has no nerves4  ,it 
is certain1 however1 that it has some   
sort of perception2 for it  advances    

towards light by moving in an ingenious 
fashion from branch  to branch1 and it  
seizes its prey4 ,hence it has been     
assumed that its  nervous system is     
spread over the whole of its body in    
equal measure1  as though it were       
blended with it2 for it is obvious that 
the polype  possesses some faculty of   
perception without having any separate  
organs of sense4 ,since this assumption 
refutes ,lamarck's position1 he  argues 
thus3 ,in that case all parts of its    
body must be capable of  every kind of  
feeling1 and also of motion1 of will1 of
 thought4 ,the  polype would have all   
the organs of the most perfect animal in
 every  point of its body2 every point  
could see1 smell1 taste1 hear1 and so   
on2 nay1 it could think1 judge1 and draw
 conclusions2 every particle  of its    
body would be a perfect animal and it   
would stand higher than  man1 as every  
part of it would possess all the        
faculties which man  possesses only in  
the whole of him4 ,further1 there would 

be no reason  for not extending what is 
true of the polype to all monads1 the   
most  imperfect of all creatures1 and   
ultimately to the plants1 which are     
also alive1 etc41 etc4 ,by using        
dialectical tricks of this kind a       
writer betrays that he is secretly      
conscious of being in the wrong4        
,because it was said that the creature's
 whole body is sensitive to  light1 and 
is therefore possessed of nerves1 he    
makes out that its  whole body is       
capable of thought4      ,,ii4    ,the  
,homonymy4--,this trick is to extend a  
proposition to something  which has     
little or nothing in common with the    
matter in question but  the similarity  
of the word2 then to refute it          
triumphantly1 and so  claim credit for  
having refuted the original statement4  
,it may be noted here that synonyms are 
two words for the same  conception2     
homonyms1 two conceptions which are     
covered by the same  word4 7,see        
,aristotle1 ,topica1 bk4 i41 c4 #ac47   

,deep1 cutting1  high1 used at one      
moment of bodies at another of tones1   
are  homonyms2 honourable and honest are
 synonyms4    ,this is a trick which may
 be regarded as identical with the      
sophism  ex homonymia2 although1 if the 
sophism is obvious1 it will deceive  no 
one4      ,every light can be           
extinguished4    ,the intellect is a    
light4    ,therefore it can be          
extinguished4    ,here it is at once    
clear that there are four terms in the  
syllogism1  light being used both in a  
real and in a metaphorical sense4 ,but  
if  the sophism takes a subtle form1 it 
is1 of course1 apt to mislead1          
especially where the conceptions which  
are covered by the same word  are       
related1 and inclined to be             
interchangeable4 ,it is never subtle    
enough to deceive1 if it is used        
intentionally2 and therefore cases of   
it must be collected from actual and    
individual experience4    ,it would be a
 very good thing if every trick could   

receive some short  and obviously       
appropriate name1 so that when a man    
used this or that  particular trick1 he 
could be at once reproached for it4     
,i will give two examples of the        
homonymy4    ,example #a4--;,a43 ,you   
are not yet initiated into the mysteries
 of the  ,kantian philosophy4    ,b43   
,oh1 if it's mysteries you're talking   
of1 ,i'll have nothing to do  with them4
    ,example #b4--;,i condemned the     
principle involved in the word honour   
as a foolish one2 for1 according to it1 
a man loses his honour by  receiving an 
insult1 which he cannot wipe out unless 
he replies with a  still greater insult1
 or by shedding his adversary's blood or
 his own4  ,i contended that a man's    
true honour cannot be outraged by what  
he  suffers1 but only and alone by what 
he does2 for there is no saying  what   
may befall any one of us4 ,my opponent  
immediately attacked  the reason ,i had 
given1 and triumphantly proved to me    
that when a  tradesman was falsely      

accused of misrepresentation1           
dishonesty1 or  neglect in his business1
 it was an attack upon his honour1 which
 in  this case was outraged solely by   
what he suffered1 and that he could     
only retrieve it by punishing his       
aggressor and making him retract4       
,here1 by a homonymy1 he was foisting   
civic honour1 which is  otherwise called
 good name1 and which may be outraged by
 libel and  slander1 on to the          
conception of knightly honour1 also     
called point  d'honneur1 which may be   
outraged by insult4 ,and since an attack
 on  the former cannot be disregarded1  
but must be repelled by public          
disproof1 so1 with the same             
justification1 an attack on the latter  
must not be disregarded either1 but it  
must be defeated by still  greater      
insult and a duel4 ,here we have a      
confusion of two essentially  different 
things through the homonymy in the word 
honour1 and a  consequent alteration of 
the point in dispute4      ,,iii4       

,another trick is to take a proposition 
which is laid down relatively1  and in  
reference to some particular matter1 as 
though it were uttered  with a general  
or absolute application2 or1 at least1  
to take it in  some quite different     
sense1 and then refute it4 ,aristotle's 
example is  as follows3    ,a ,moor is  
black2 but in regard to his teeth he is 
white2 therefore1 he  is black and not  
black at the same moment4 ,this is an   
obvious sophism1  which will deceive no 
one4 ,let us contrast it with one drawn 
from  actual experience4    ,in talking 
of philosophy1 ,i admitted that my      
system upheld the  ,quietists1 and      
commended them4 ,shortly afterwards the 
conversation  turned upon ,hegel1 and ,i
 maintained that his writings were      
mostly  nonsense2 or1 at any rate1 that 
there were many passages in them where  
the author wrote the words1 and it was  
left to the reader to find a  meaning   
for them4 ,my opponent did not attempt  
to refute this assertion  ad rem1 but   

contented himself by advancing the      
argumentum ad  hominem1 and telling me  
that ,i had just been praising the      
,quietists1  and that they had written a
 good deal of nonsense too4    ,this ,i 
admitted2 but1 by way of correcting him1
 ,i said that ,i had  praised the       
,quietists1 not as philosophers and     
writers1 that is to  say1 for their     
achievements in the sphere of theory1   
but only as  men1 and for their conduct 
in mere matters of practice2 and that in
  ,hegel's case we were talking of      
theories4 ,in this way ,i parried the   
attack4    ,the first three tricks are  
of a kindred character4 ,they have this 
in common1 that something different is  
attacked from that which was  asserted4 
,it would therefore be an ignoratio     
elenchi to allow  oneself to be disposed
 of in such a manner4    ,for in all the
 examples that ,i have given1 what the  
opponent says is  true1 but it stands in
 apparent and not in real contradiction 
with the  thesis4 ,all that the man whom

 he is attacking has to do is to deny   
the  validity of his syllogism2 to deny1
 namely1 the conclusion which he  draws1
 that because his proposition is true1  
ours is false4 ,in this  way his        
refutation is itself directly refuted by
 a denial of his  conclusion1 per       
negationem consequentiae4 ,another trick
 is to refuse  to admit true premisses  
because of a foreseen conclusion4 ,there
 are  two ways of defeating it1         
incorporated in the next two sections4  
,,iv4    ,if you want to draw a         
conclusion1 you must not let it be      
foreseen1 but  you must get the         
premisses admitted one by one1          
unobserved1 mingling  them here and     
there in your talk2 otherwise1 your     
opponent will  attempt all sorts of     
chicanery4 ,or1 if it is doubtful       
whether your  opponent will admit them1 
you must advance the premisses of these 
premisses2 that is to say1 you must draw
 up pro-syllogisms1 and get  the        
premisses of several of them admitted in

 no definite order4  ,in this way you   
conceal your game until you have        
obtained all the  admissions that are   
necessary1 and so reach your goal by    
making a  circuit4 ,these rules are     
given by ,aristotle in his ,topica1 bk4 
viii41 c4 #a4 ,it is a trick which needs
 no illustration4      ,v4    ,to prove 
the truth of a proposition1 you may also
 employ previous  propositions that are 
not true1 should your opponent refuse to
 admit  the true ones1 either because he
 fails to perceive their truth1 or      
because he sees that the thesis         
immediately follows from them4 ,in that 
case the plan is to take propositions   
which are false in themselves  but true 
for your opponent1 and argue from the   
way in which he thinks1  that is to say1
 ex concessis4 ,for a true conclusion   
may follow  from false premisses1 but   
not vice vers4 ,in the same fashion     
your opponent's false propositions may  
be refuted by other false  propositions1
 which he1 however1 takes to be true2   

for it is with him  that you have to do1
 and you must use the thoughts that he  
uses4 ,for  instance1 if he is a member 
of some sect to which you do not belong1
  you may employ the declared1 opinions 
of this sect against him1 as            
principles4#a    ,footnote #a3          
,aristotle1 ,topica bk4 viii41 chap4 #b4
      ,,vi4    ,another plan is to beg  
the question in disguise by postulating 
what  has to be proved1 either 7#a7     
under another name2 for instance1 good  
repute instead of honour2 virtue instead
 of virginity1 etc42  or by using such  
convertible terms as red-blooded animals
 and  vertebrates2 or 7#b7 by making a  
general assumption covering the         
particular point in dispute2 for        
instance1 maintaining the uncertainty   
of medicine by postulating the          
uncertainty of all human knowledge4 7#c7
  ,if1 vice vers1 two things follow one 
from the other1 and one is to  be       
proved1 you may postulate the other4    
7#d7 ,if a general proposition  is to be

 proved1 you may get your opponent to   
admit every one of the  particulars4    
,this is the converse of the second4#a  
,footnote #a3 ,idem1 chap4 #aa4 ,the    
last chapter of this work contains  some
 good rules for the practice of         
,dialectics4      ,,vii4    ,should the 
disputation be conducted on somewhat    
strict and formal  lines1 and there be a
 desire to arrive at a very clear       
understanding1  he who states the       
proposition and wants to prove it may   
proceed  against his opponent by        
question1 in order to show the truth of 
the  statement from his admissions4 ,the
 erotematic1 or ,socratic1 method was   
especially in use among the ancients2   
and this and some of the tricks         
following later on are akin to it4#a    
,footnote #a3 ,they are all a free      
version of chap4 #ae of ,aristotle's    
,de ,sophistici ,elenchis4    ,the plan 
is to ask a great many wide-reaching    
questions at once1 so as  to hide what  
you want to get admitted1 and1 on the   

other hand1 quickly  propound the       
argument resulting from the admissions2 
for those who are  slow of understanding
 cannot follow accurately1 and do not   
notice any  mistakes or gaps there may  
be in the demonstration4      ,,viii4   
,this trick consists in making your     
opponent angry2 for when he is  angry he
 is incapable of judging aright1 and    
perceiving where  his advantage lies4   
,you can make him angry by doing him    
repeated  injustice1 or practising some 
kind of chicanery1 and being generally  
insolent4      ,,ix4    ,or you may put 
questions in an order different from    
that which the  conclusion to be drawn  
from them requires1 and transpose them1 
so  as not to let him know at what you  
are aiming4 ,he can then take no        
precautions4 ,you may also use his      
answers for different or even  opposite 
conclusions1 according to their         
character4 ,this is akin to  the trick  
of masking your procedure4      ,x4     
,if you observe that your opponent      

designedly returns a negative answer  to
 the questions which1 for the sake of   
your proposition1 you want  him to      
answer in the affirmative1 you must ask 
the converse of the  proposition1 as    
though it were that which you were      
anxious to see  affirmed2 or1 at any    
rate1 you may give him his choice of    
both1 so  that he may not perceive which
 of them you are asking him to affirm4  
,,xl4    ,if you make an induction1 and 
your opponent grants you the particular 
cases by which it is to be supported1   
you must refrain from asking him  if he 
also admits the general truth which     
issues from the particulars1  but       
introduce it afterwards as a settled and
 admitted fact2 for1 in  the meanwhile1 
he will himself come to believe that he 
has admitted  it1 and the same          
impression will be received by the      
audience1 because  they will remember   
the many questions as to the            
particulars1 and  suppose that they     
must1 of course1 have attained their    

end4      ,,xii4    ,if the conversation
 turns upon some general conception     
which has  no particular name1 but      
requires some figurative or metaphorical
  designation1 you must begin by        
choosing a metaphor that is favourable  
to your proposition4 ,for instance1 the 
names used to denote the two  political 
parties in ,spain1 ,serviles and        
,liberates1 are obviously  chosen by the
 latter4 ,the name ,protestants is      
chosen by themselves1  and also the name
 ,evangelicals2 but the ,catholics call 
them  heretics4 ,similarly1 in regard to
 the names of things which admit  of a  
more exact and definite meaning3 for    
example1 if your opponent  proposes an  
alteration1 you can call it an          
innovation1 as this is  an invidious    
word4 ,if you yourself make the         
proposal1 it will be the  converse4 ,in 
the first case1 you can call the        
antagonistic principle  the existing    
order1 in the second1 antiquated        
prejudice4 ,what an  impartial man with 

no further purpose to serve would call  
public  worship or a system of religion1
 is described by an adherent as  piety1 
godliness3 and by an opponent as        
bigotry1 superstition4  ,this is1 at    
bottom1 a subtle petitio principii4     
,what is sought to be  proved is1 first 
of all1 inserted in the definition1     
whence it is then  taken by mere        
analysis4 ,what one man calls placing in
 safe custody1  another calls throwing  
into prison4 ,a speaker often betrays   
his  purpose beforehand by the names    
which he gives to things4 ,one man      
talks of the clergy2 another1 of the    
priests4    ,of all the tricks of       
controversy1 this is the most frequent1 
and it is  used instinctively4 ,you hear
 of religious zeal1 or fanaticism2 a    
faux pas a piece of gallantry1 or       
adultery2 an equivocal1 or  a bawdy     
story2 embarrassment1 or bankruptcy2    
through influence  and connection1 or by
 bribery and nepotism2 sincere          
gratitude1 or  good pay4      ,,xiii4   

,to make your opponent accept a         
proposition1 you must give him the      
counter-proposition as well1 leaving him
 his choice of the two2 and  you must   
render the contrast as glaring as you   
can1 so that to avoid  being paradoxical
 he will accept the proposition1 which  
is thus made  to look quite probable4   
,for instance1 if you want to make him  
admit  that a boy must do everything    
that his father tells him to do1 ask him
  whether in all things we must obey or 
disobey our parents4 ,or1 if  a thing is
 said to occur often1 ask whether by    
often you are to  understand few or many
 cases2 and he will say many4 ,it is as 
though  you were to put grey next black1
 and call it white2 or next white1 and  
call it black4      ,,xiv4    ,this1    
which is an impudent trick1 is played as
 follows3 ,when your  opponent has      
answered several of your questions      
without the answers  turning out        
favourable to the conclusion at which   
you are aiming1  advance the desired    

conclusion1--although it does not in the
 least  follow1--as though it had been  
proved1 and proclaim it in a tone of    
triumph4 ,if your opponent is shy or    
stupid1 and you yourself possess  a     
great deal of impudence and a good      
voice1 the trick may easily  succeed4   
,it is akin to the fallacy non causae ut
 causae4      ,,xv4    ,if you have     
advanced a paradoxical proposition and  
find a difficulty  in proving it1 you   
may submit for your opponent's          
acceptance or  rejection some true      
proposition1 the truth of which1        
however1 is not  quite palpable1 as     
though you wished to draw your proof    
from it4  ,should he reject it because  
he suspects a trick1 you can obtain your
  triumph by showing how absurd he is2  
should he accept it you have got  reason
 on your side for the moment1 and must  
now look about you2 or  else you can    
employ the previous trick as well1 and  
maintain that your  paradox is proved by
 the proposition which he has accepted4 

,for this  an extreme degree of         
impudence is required2 but experience   
shows cases  of it1 and there are people
 who practise it by instinct4           
,,xvi4    ,another trick is to use      
arguments ad hominem1 or ex concessis#a 
,when your opponent makes a proposition1
 you must try to see whether it  is not 
in some way--if needs be1 only          
apparently--inconsistent with  some     
other proposition which he has made or  
admitted1 or with the  principles of a  
school or sect which he has commended   
and approved1 or  with the actions of   
those who support the sect1 or else of  
those who  give it only an apparent and 
spurious support1 or with his own       
actions  or want of action4 ,for        
example1 should he defend suicide1 you  
may at  once exclaim1 ,why don't you    
hang yourself8 ,should he maintain that 
,berlin is an unpleasant place to live  
in1 you may say1 ,why don't you  leave  
by the first train8 ,some such claptrap 
is always possible4    ,footnote #a3    

,the truth from which ,i draw my proof  
may he either 7#a7 of  an objective and 
universally valid character2 in that    
case my proof is  veracious1 secundum   
veritatem2 and it is such proof alone   
that has  any genuine validity4 ,or 7#b7
 it may be valid only for the person to 
whom ,i wish to prove my proposition1   
and with whom ,i am disputing4 ,he  has1
 that is to say1 either taken up some   
position once for all as a  prejudice1  
or hastily admitted it in the course of 
the dispute2 and  on this ,i ground my  
proof4 ,in that case1 it is a proof     
valid only for  this particular man1 ad 
kominem4 ,i compel my opponent to grant 
my proposition1 but ,i fail to establish
 it as a truth of universal  validity4  
,my proof avails for my opponent alone1 
but for no one else4  ,for example1 if  
my opponent is a devotee of ,kant's1 and
 ,i ground my  proof on some utterance  
of that philosopher1 it is a proof which
 in  itself is only ad hominem4 ,if he  
is a ,mohammedan1 ,i may prove my  point

 by reference to a passage in the       
,koran1 and that is sufficient  for him2
 but here it is only a proof ad hominem1
      ,,xvii4    ,if your opponent      
presses you with a counter-proof1 you   
will often be  able to save yourself by 
advancing some subtle distinction1      
which1 it  is true1 had not previously  
occurred to you2 that is1 if the matter 
admits of a double application1 or of   
being taken in any ambiguous  sense4    
,,xviii4    ,if you observe that your   
opponent has taken up a line of argument
  which will end in your defeat1 you    
must not allow him to carry it to  its  
conclusion1 but interrupt the course of 
the dispute in time1 or  break it off   
altogether1 or lead him away from the   
subject1 and bring  him to others4 ,in  
short1 you must effect the trick which  
will be  noticed later on1 the mutatio  
controversiae4 7,see  xxix47      ,,xix4
    ,should your opponent expressly     
challenge you to produce any objection  
to some definite point in his argument1 

and you have nothing much to  say1 you  
must try to give the matter a general   
turn1 and then talk  against that4 ,if  
you are called upon to say why a        
particular physical  hypothesis cannot  
be accepted1 you may speak of the       
fallibility of  human knowledge1 and    
give various illustrations of it4       
,,xx4    ,when you have elicited all    
your premisses1 and your opponent has   
admitted them1 you must refrain from    
asking him for the conclusion1  but draw
 it at once for yourself2 nay1 even     
though one or other of the  premisses   
should be lacking1 you may take it as   
though it too had been  admitted1 and   
draw the conclusion4 ,this trick is an  
application of the  fallacy non causae  
ut causae4      ,,xxi4    ,when your    
opponent uses a merely superficial or   
sophistical argument  and you see       
through it1 you can1 it is true1 refute 
it by setting  forth its captious and   
superficial character2 but it is better 
to  meet him with a counter-argument    

which is just as superficial and        
sophistical1 and so dispose of him2 for 
it is with victory that you  are        
concerned1 and not with truth4 ,if1 for 
example1 he adopts an  argumentum ad    
hominem1 it is sufficient to take the   
force out of it  by a counter argumentum
 ad hominem or argumentum ex concessis2 
and1 in general1 instead of setting     
forth the true state of the case  at    
equal length1 it is shorter to take this
 course if it lies open to  you4        
,,xxii4    ,if your opponent requires   
you to admit something from which the   
point in dispute will immediately       
follow1 you must refuse to do so1       
declaring that it is a petitio principii
 ,for he and the audience  will regard a
 proposition which is near akin to the  
point in dispute  as identical with it1 
and in this way you deprive him of his  
best  argument4      ,,xxiii4           
,contradiction and contention irritate a
 man into exaggerating his  statement4  
,by contradicting your opponent you may 

drive him into  extending beyond its    
proper limits a statement which1 at all 
events  within those limits and in      
itself1 is true2 and when you refute    
this  exaggerated form of it1 you look  
as though you had also refuted his      
original statement4 ,contrarily1 you    
must take care not to allow  yourself to
 be misled by contradictions into       
exaggerating or extending  a statement  
of your own4 ,it will often happen that 
your opponent will  himself directly try
 to extend your statement further than  
you meant  it2 here you must at once    
stop him1 and bring him back to the     
limits  which you set up2 ,that's what  
,i said1 and no more4      ,,xxiv4      
,this trick consists in stating a false 
syllogism4 ,your opponent makes  a      
proposition1 and by false inference and 
distortion of his ideas you  force from 
it other propositions which it does not 
contain and he does  not in the least   
mean2 nay1 which are absurd or          
dangerous4 ,it then  looks as if his    

proposition gave rise to others which   
are inconsistent  either with themselves
 or with some acknowledged truth1 and so
 it  appears to be indirectly refuted4  
,this is the diversion1 and it is       
another application of the fallacy non  
causae ut causae4      ,,xxv4    ,this  
is a case of the diversion by means of  
an instance to the  contrary4 ,with an  
induction 7,greek3 epagogae71 a great   
number  of particular instances are     
required in order to establish it as a  
universal proposition2 but with the     
diversion 7,greek3 apagogae7 a  single  
instance1 to which the proposition does 
not apply1 is all that  is necessary to 
overthrow it4 ,this is a controversial  
method known  as the                    
instance--instantia1 ,greek3 enstasis4  
,for example1 all  ruminants are horned 
is a proposition which may be upset by  
the  single instance of the camel4 ,the 
instance is a case in which a  universal
 truth is sought to be applied1 and     
something is inserted in  the           

fundamental definition of it which is   
not universally true1 and by  which it  
is upset4 ,but there is room for        
mistake2 and when this trick  is        
employed by your opponent1 you must     
observe 7#a7 whether the example  which 
he gives is really true2 for there are  
problems of which the  only true        
solution is that the case in point is   
not true--for example1  many miracles1  
ghost stories1 and so on2 and 7#b7      
whether it really  comes under the      
conception of the truth thus stated2 for
 it may only  appear to do so1 and the  
matter is one to be settled by precise  
distinctions2 and 7#c7 whether it is    
really inconsistent with this           
conception2 for this again may be only  
an apparent inconsistency4      ,,xxvi4 
,a brilliant move is the retorsio       
argumenti1 or turning of the  tables1 by
 which your opponent's argument is      
turned against himself4  ,he declares1  
for instance1 ,so-and-so is a child1 you
 must make  allowance for him4 ,you     

retort1 ,just because he is a child1 ,i 
must  correct him2 otherwise he will    
persist in his bad habits4      ,,xxvii4
    ,should your opponent surprise you  
by becoming particularly angry at an    
argument1 you must urge it with all the 
more zeal2 not only because it  is a    
good thing to make him angry1 but       
because it may be presumed that  you    
have here put your finger on the weak   
side of his case1 and that  just here he
 is more open to attack than even for   
the moment you  perceive4      ,,xxviii4
    ,this is chiefly practicable in a   
dispute between scholars in the         
presence of the unlearned4 ,if you have 
no argument ad rem1 and none  either ad 
hominem1 you can make one ad auditores2 
that is to say1  you can start some     
invalid objection1 which1 however1 only 
an expert  sees to be invalid4 ,now your
 opponent is an expert1 but those who   
form  your audience are not1 and        
accordingly in their eyes he is         
defeated2  particularly if the objection

 which you make places him in any       
ridiculous light4 ,people are ready to  
laugh1 and you have the laughers  on    
your side4 ,to show that your objection 
is an idle one1 would  require a long   
explanation on the part of your         
opponent1 and a  reference to the       
principles of the branch of knowledge in
 question1 or  to the elements of the   
matter which you are discussing2 and    
people are  not disposed to listen to   
it4    ,for example1 your opponent      
states that in the original formation of
 a  mountain-range the granite and other
 elements in its composition were1  by  
reason of their high temperature1 in a  
fluid or molten state2 that  the        
temperature must have amounted to some  
#dhj ,fahrenheit2 and that  when the    
mass took shape it was covered by the   
sea4 ,you reply1 by an  argument ad     
auditores1 that at that                 
temperature--nay1 indeed1 long  before  
it had been reached1 namely1 at #bab    
,fahrenheit--the sea would  have been   

boiled away1 and spread through the air 
in the form of  steam4 ,at this the     
audience laughs4 ,to refute the         
objection1 your  opponent would have to 
show that the boiling-point depends not 
only on  the degree of warmth1 but also 
on the atmospheric pressure2 and that   
as soon as about half the sea-water had 
gone off in the shape of  steam1 this   
pressure would be so greatly increased  
that the rest of it  would fail to boil 
even at a temperature of #dhj4 ,he is   
debarred from  giving this explanation1 
as it would require a treatise to       
demonstrate  the matter to those who had
 no acquaintance with physics4          
,,xxix4#a    ,footnote #a3 ,see  xviii4 
,if you find that you are being worsted1
 you can make a  diversion--that is1 you
 can suddenly begin to talk of something
  else1 as though it had a bearing on   
the matter in dispute1 and  afforded an 
argument against your opponent4 ,this   
may be done without  presumption if the 
diversion has1 in fact1 some general    

bearing on the  matter2 but it is a     
piece of impudence if it has nothing to 
do with  the case1 and is only brought  
in by way of attacking your opponent4   
,for example1 ,i praised the system     
prevailing in ,china1 where there is  no
 such thing as hereditary nobility1 and 
offices are bestowed only on  those who 
succeed in competitive examinations4 ,my
 opponent maintained  that learning1 as 
little as the privilege of birth 7of    
which he had a  high opinion7 fits a man
 for office4 ,we argued1 and he got the 
worst  of it4 ,then he made a diversion1
 and declared that in ,china all  ranks 
were punished with the bastinado1 which 
he connected with the  immoderate       
indulgence in tea1 and proceeded to make
 both of them a  subject of reproach to 
the ,chinese4 ,to follow him into all   
this would  have been to allow oneself  
to be drawn into a surrender of the     
victory  which had already been won4    
,the diversion is mere impudence if it  
completely abandons the point in        

dispute1 and raises1 for instance1 some 
such objection as ,yes1 and  you also   
said just now1 and so on4 ,for then the 
argument becomes to  some extent        
personal2 of the kind which will be     
treated of in the last  section4        
,strictly speaking1 it is half-way      
between the argumentum  ad personam1    
which will there be discussed1 and the  
argumentum ad  hominem4    ,how very    
innate this trick is1 may be seen in    
every quarrel between  common people4   
,if one of the parties makes some       
personal reproach  against the other1   
the latter1 instead of answering it by  
refuting it1  allows it to stand1--as it
 were1 admits it2 and replies by        
reproaching  his antagonist on some     
other ground4 ,this is a stratagem like 
that  pursued by ,scipio when he        
attacked the ,carthaginians1 not in     
,italy1  but in ,africa4 ,in war1       
diversions of this kind may be          
profitable2 but  in a quarrel they are  
poor expedients1 because the reproaches 

remain1  and those who look on hear the 
worst that can be said of both parties4 
,it is a trick that should be used only 
faute de mieux4      ,,xxx4    ,this is 
the argumentum ad verecundiam4 ,it      
consists in making an  appeal to        
authority rather than reason1 and in    
using such an authority  as may suit the
 degree of knowledge possessed by your  
opponent4    ,every man prefers belief  
to the exercise of judgment1 says       
,seneca2 and  it is therefore an easy   
matter if you have an authority on your 
side  which your opponent respects4 ,the
 more limited his capacity and          
knowledge1 the greater is the number of 
the authorities who weigh with  him4    
,but if his capacity and knowledge are  
of a high order1 there  are very few2   
indeed1 hardly any at all4 ,he may1     
perhaps1 admit the  authority of        
professional men versed in a science or 
an art or a  handicraft of which he     
knows little or nothing2 but even so he 
will  regard it with suspicion4         

,contrarily1 ordinary folk have a deep  
respect for professional men of every   
kind4 ,they are unaware that  a man who 
makes a profession of a thing loves it  
not for the thing  itself1 but for the  
money he makes by it2 or that it is rare
 for a man  who teaches to know his     
subject thoroughly2 for if he studies it
 as he  ought1 he has in most cases no  
time left in which to teach it4    ,but 
there are very many authorities who find
 respect with the mob1 and  if you have 
none that is quite suitable1 you can    
take one that appears  to be so2 you may
 quote what some said in another sense  
or in other  circumstances4 ,authorities
 which your opponent fails to understand
 are  those of which he generally thinks
 the most4 ,the unlearned entertain a   
peculiar respect for a ,greek or a      
,latin flourish4 ,you may also1 should  
it be necessary1 not only twist your    
authorities1 but actually falsify  them1
 or quote something which you have      
invented entirely yourself4 ,as  a rule1

 your opponent has no books at hand1 and
 could not use them if  he had4 ,the    
finest illustration of this is furnished
 by the ,french  cur1 who1 to avoid     
being compelled1 like other citizens1 to
 pave  the street in front of his house1
 quoted a saying which he described  as 
biblical3 paveant illi1 ego non pavebo4 
,that was quite enough for  the         
municipal officers4 ,a universal        
prejudice may also be used as an        
authority2 for most people think with   
,aristotle that that may be said  to    
exist which many believe4 ,there is no  
opinion1 however absurd1  which men will
 not readily embrace as soon as they can
 be brought to  the conviction that it  
is generally adopted4 ,example affects  
their  thought just as it affects their 
action4 ,they are like sheep following  
the bell-wether just as he leads them4  
,they would sooner die than  think4 ,it 
is very curious that the universality of
 an opinion should  have so much weight 
with people1 as their own experience    

might tell  them that its acceptance is 
an entirely thoughtless and merely      
imitative process4 ,but it tells them   
nothing of the kind1 because they       
possess no self-knowledge whatever4 ,it 
is only the elect ,who ,say with        
,plato3 ,greek3 tois pollois polla dokei
 which means that the public  has a good
 many bees in its bonnet1 and that it   
would be a long  business to get at     
them4    ,but to speak seriously1 the   
universality of an opinion is no proof1 
nay1 it is not even a probability1 that 
the opinion is right4 ,those  who       
maintain that it is so must assume 7#a7 
that length of time  deprives a         
universal opinion of its demonstrative  
force1 as otherwise  all the old errors 
which were once universally held to be  
true would  have to be recalled2 for    
instance1 the ,ptolemaic system would   
have  to be restored1 or ,catholicism   
re-established in all ,protestant       
countries4 ,they must assume 7#b7 that  
distance of space has the same  effect2 

otherwise the respective universality of
 opinion among the  adherents of        
,buddhism1 ,christianity1 and ,islam    
will put them in a  difficulty4    ,when
 we come to look into the matter1       
so-called universal opinion is  the     
opinion of two or three persons2 and we 
should be persuaded of  this if we could
 see the way in which it really arises4 
,we should find that it is two or three 
persons who1 in the first  instance1    
accepted it1 or advanced and maintained 
it2 and of whom  people were so good as 
to believe that they had thoroughly     
tested it4  ,then a few other persons1  
persuaded beforehand that the first were
 men  of the requisite capacity1 also   
accepted the opinion4 ,these1 again1    
were trusted by many others1 whose      
laziness suggested to them that it  was 
better to believe at once1 than to go   
through the troublesome task  of testing
 the matter for themselves4 ,thus the   
number of these lazy  and credulous     
adherents grew from day to day2 for the 

opinion had no  sooner obtained a fair  
measure of support than its further     
supporters  attributed this to the fact 
that the opinion could only have        
obtained  it by the cogency of its      
arguments4 ,the remainder were then     
compelled  to grant what was universally
 granted1 so as not to pass for unruly  
persons who resisted opinions which     
every one accepted1 or pert  fellows who
 thought themselves cleverer than any   
one else4    ,when opinion reaches this 
stage1 adhesion becomes a duty2 and     
henceforward the few who are capable of 
forming a judgment hold their  peace4   
,those who venture to speak are such as 
are entirely incapable  of forming any  
opinions or any judgment of their own1  
being merely the  echo of others'       
opinions2 and1 nevertheless1 they defend
 them with all  the greater zeal and    
intolerance4 ,for what they hate in     
people who  think differently is not so 
much the different opinions which they  
profess1 as the presumption of wanting  

to form their own judgment2 a           
presumption of which they themselves are
 never guilty1 as they are  very well   
aware4 ,in short1 there are very few who
 can think1 but  every man wants to have
 an opinion2 and what remains but to    
take it  ready-made from others1 instead
 of forming opinions for himself8       
,since this is what happens1 where is   
the value of the opinion even of  a     
hundred millions8 ,it is no more        
established than an historical  fact    
reported by a hundred chroniclers who   
can be proved to have  plagiarised it   
from one another2 the opinion in the end
 being  traceable to a single           
individual4#a ,it is all what ,i say1   
what you  say1 and1 finally1 what he    
says2 and the whole of it is nothing but
 a  series of assertions3    ,footnote  
#a3 ,see ,bayle's ,penses sur les       
,comtes1 i41 p4 #aj4      ,dico ego1 tu 
dicis1 sed denique dixit et ille2       
,dictaque post toties1 nil nisi dicta   
vides4    ,nevertheless1 in a dispute   

with ordinary people1 we may employ     
universal opinion as an authority4 ,for 
it will generally be found that  when   
two of them are fighting1 that is the   
weapon which both of them  choose as a  
means of attack4 ,if a man of the better
 sort has to deal  with them1 it is most
 advisable for him to condescend to the 
use  of this weapon too1 and to select  
such authorities as will make an        
impression on his opponent's weak side4 
,for1 ex hypoihesi1 he is as  insensible
 to all rational argument as a          
horny-hided ,siegfried1 dipped  in the  
flood of incapacity1 and unable to think
 or judge4 ,before  a tribunal the      
dispute is one between authorities      
alone1--such  authoritative statements1 
,i mean1 as are laid down by legal      
experts2  and here the exercise of      
judgment consists in discovering what   
law or  authority applies to the case in
 question4 ,there is1 however1 plenty   
of room for ,dialectic2 for should the  
case in question and the law not  really

 fit each other1 they can1 if necessary1
 be twisted until they  appear to do so1
 or vice versa4      ,,xxxi4    ,if you 
know that you have no reply to the      
arguments which your  opponent advances1
 you may1 by a fine stroke of irony1    
declare  yourself to be an incompetent  
judge3 ,what you now say passes my  poor
 powers of comprehension2 it may be all 
very true1 but ,i can't  understand it1 
and ,i refrain from any expression of   
opinion on it4 ,in  this way you        
insinuate to the bystanders1 with whom  
you are in good  repute1 that what your 
opponent says is nonsense4 ,thus1 when  
,kant's  ,kritik appeared1 or1 rather1  
when it began to make a noise in the    
world1 many professors of the old       
ecclectic school declared that they     
failed to understand it1 in the belief  
that their failure settled the          
business4 ,but when the adherents of the
 new school proved to them that  they   
were quite right1 and had really failed 
to understand it1 they  were in a very  

bad humour4    ,this is a trick which   
may be used only when you are quite sure
 that  the audience thinks much better  
of you that of your opponent4 ,a        
professor1 for instance may try it on a 
student4    ,strictly1 it is a case of  
the preceding trick3 it is a            
particularly  malicious assertion of    
one's own authority1 instead of giving  
reasons4  ,the counter-trick is to say3 
,i beg your pardon2 but1 with your      
penetrating intellect1 it must be very  
easy for you to understand  anything2   
and it can only be my poor statement of 
the matter that is  at fault2 and then  
go on to rub it into him until he       
understands it  nolens volens1 and sees 
for himself that it was really his own  
fault  alone4 ,in this way you parry his
 attack4 ,with the greatest politeness  
he wanted to insinuate that you were    
talking nonsense2 and you1 with  equal  
courtesy1 prove to him that he is a     
fool4      ,,xxxii4    ,if you are      
confronted with an assertion1 there is a

 short way of  getting rid of it1 or1 at
 any rate1 of throwing suspicion on it1 
by  putting it into some odious         
category2 even though the connection  is
 only apparent1 or else of a loose      
character4 ,you can say1  for instance1 
,that is ,manichasism1 or ,it is        
,arianism1 or  ,pelagianism1 or         
,idealism1 or ,spinozism1 or ,pantheism1
 or  ,brownianism1 or ,naturalism1 or   
,atheism1 or ,rationalism1              
,spiritualism1 ,mysticism1 and so on4   
,in making an objection of this  kind1  
you take it for granted 7#a7 that the   
assertion in question is  identical     
with1 or is at least contained in1 the  
category cited--that  is to say1 you cry
 out1 ,oh1 ,i have heard that before2   
and 7#b7 that  the system referred to   
has been entirely refuted1 and does not 
contain  a word of truth4      ,,xxxiii4
    ,that's all very well in theory1 but
 it won't do in practice4 ,in  this     
sophism you admit the premisses but deny
 the conclusion1 in  contradiction with 

a well-known rule of logic4 ,the        
assertion is  based upon an             
impossibility3 what is right in theory  
must work  in practice2 and if it does  
not1 there is a mistake in the theory2  
something has been overlooked and not   
allowed for2 and1 consequently1  what is
 wrong in practice is wrong in theory   
too4      ,,xxxiv4    ,when you state a 
question or an argument1 and your       
opponent gives you  no direct answer or 
reply1 but evades it by a               
counter-question or an  indirect answer1
 or some assertion which has no bearing 
on the matter1  and1 generally1 tries to
 turn the subject1 it is a sure sign    
that you  have touched a weak spot1     
sometimes without knowing it4 ,you have1
 as  it were1 reduced him to silence4   
,you must1 therefore1 urge the point    
all the more1 and not let your opponent 
evade it1 even when you do not  know    
where the weakness which you have hit   
upon really lies4      ,,xxxv4    ,there
 is another trick which1 as soon as it  

is practicable1 makes all  others       
unnecessary4 ,instead of working on your
 opponent's intellect by  argument1 work
 on his will by motive2 and he1 and also
 the audience if  they have similar     
interests1 will at once be won over to  
your opinion1  even though you got it   
out of a lunatic asylum2 for1 as a      
general  rule1 half an ounce of will is 
more effective than a hundredweight of  
insight and intelligence4 ,this1 it is  
true1 can be done only under  peculiar  
circumstances4 ,if you succeed in making
 your opponent feel  that his opinion1  
should it prove true1 will be distinctly
 prejudicial  to his interest1 he will  
let it drop like a hot potato1 and feel 
that  it was very imprudent to take it  
up4    ,a clergyman1 for instance1 is   
defending some philosophical dogma2 you 
make him sensible of the fact that it is
 in immediate contradiction  with one of
 the fundamental doctrines of his       
,church1 and he abandons  it4    ,a     
landed proprietor maintains that the use

 of machinery in  agricultural          
operations1 as practised in ,england1 is
 an excellent  institution1 since an    
engine does the work of many men4 ,you  
give him  to understand that it will not
 be very long before carriages are also 
worked by steam1 and that the value of  
his large stud will be greatly          
depreciated2 and you will see what he   
will say4    ,in such cases every man   
feels how thoughtless it is to sanction 
a law  unjust to himself--quam temere in
 nosmet legem sancimus iniquam6 ,nor  is
 it otherwise if the bystanders1 but not
 your opponent1 belong to  the same     
sect1 guild1 industry1 club1 etc41 as   
yourself4 ,let his  thesis be never so  
true1 as soon as you hint that it is    
prejudicial to  the common interests of 
the said society1 all the bystanders    
will find  that your opponent's         
arguments1 however excellent they be1   
are weak  and contemptible2 and that    
yours1 on the other hand1 though they   
were  random conjecture1 are correct and

 to the point2 you will have a  chorus  
of loud approval on your side1 and your 
opponent will be driven  out of the     
field with ignominy4 ,nay1 the          
bystanders will believe1 as a  rule1    
that they have agreed with you out of   
pure conviction4 ,for what  is not to   
our interest mostly seems absurd to us2 
our intellect being  no siccum lumen4   
,this trick might be called taking the  
tree by its  root2 its usual name is the
 argumentum ab utili4      ,,xxxvi4     
,you may also puzzle and bewilder your  
opponent by mere bombast2 and  the trick
 is possible1 because a man generally   
supposes that there  must be some       
meaning in words3      ,gewhnlich glaubt
 der ,mensch1 wenn er nur ,worte hrt1   
,es msse sich dabei doch auch was denken
 lassen4    ,if he is secretly conscious
 of his own weakness1 and accustomed to 
hear much that he does not understand1  
and to make as though he did1  you can  
easily impose upon him by some serious  
fooling that sounds  very deep or       

learned1 and deprives him of hearing1   
sight1 and thought2  and by giving out  
that it is the most indisputable proof  
of what you  assert4 ,it is a well-known
 fact that in recent times some         
philosophers  have practised this trick 
on the whole of the public with the most
  brilliant success4 ,but since present 
examples are odious1 we may refer  to   
,the ,vicar of ,wakefield for an old    
one4      ,,xxxvii4    ,should your     
opponent be in the right1 but1 luckily  
for your  contention1 choose a faulty   
proof1 you can easily manage to refute  
it1  and then claim that you have thus  
refuted his whole position4 ,this  is a 
trick which ought to be one of the      
first2 it is1 at bottom1 an  expedient  
by which an argumentum ad hominem is put
 forward as an  argumentum ad rem4 ,if  
no accurate proof occurs to him or to   
the  bystanders1 you have won the day4  
,for example1 if a man advances the     
ontological argument by way of proving  
,god's existence1 you can get  the best 

of him1 for the ontological argument may
 easily be refuted4  ,this is the way in
 which bad advocates lose a good case1  
by trying to  justify it by an authority
 which does not fit it1 when no fitting 
one  occurs to them4      ,,xxxviii4    
,a last trick is to become personal1    
insulting1 rude1 as soon as you         
perceive that your opponent has the     
upper hand1 and that you are going  to  
come off worst4 ,it consists in passing 
from the subject of dispute1  as from a 
lost game1 to the disputant himself1 and
 in some way  attacking his person4 ,it 
may be called the argumentum ad         
personam1  to distinguish it from the   
argumentum ad hominem1 which passes     
from the objective discussion of the    
subject pure and simple to the          
statements or admissions which your     
opponent has made in regard to it4  ,but
 in becoming personal you leave the     
subject altogether1 and turn  your      
attack to his person1 by remarks of an  
offensive and spiteful  character4 ,it  

is an appeal from the virtues of the    
intellect to the  virtues of the body1  
or to mere animalism4 ,this is a very   
popular  trick1 because every one is    
able to carry it into effect2 and so it 
is of frequent application4 ,now the    
question is1 ,what counter-trick  avails
 for the other party8 for if he has     
recourse to the same rule1  there will  
be blows1 or a duel1 or an action for   
slander4    ,it would be a great mistake
 to suppose that it is sufficient not to
  become personal yourself4 ,for by     
showing a man quite quietly that he  is 
wrong1 and that what he says and thinks 
is incorrect--a process  which occurs in
 every dialectical victory--you embitter
 him more than  if you used some rude or
 insulting expression4 ,why is this8    
,because1  as ,hobbes observes1#a all   
mental pleasure consists in being able  
to  compare oneself with others to one's
 own advantage4 ,nothing is of  greater 
moment to a man than the gratification  
of his vanity1 and no  wound is more    

painful than that which is inflicted on 
it4 ,hence such  phrases as ,death      
before dishonour1 and so on4 ,the       
gratification of  vanity arises mainly  
by comparison of oneself with others1 in
 every  respect1 but chiefly in respect 
of one's intellectual powers2 and so    
the most effective and the strongest    
gratification of it is to be  found in  
controversy4 ,hence the embitterment of 
defeat1 apart from any  question of     
injustice2 and hence recourse to that   
last weapon1  that last trick1 which you
 cannot evade by mere politeness4 ,a    
cool  demeanour may1 however1 help you  
here1 if1 as soon as your opponent      
becomes personal1 you quietly reply1    
,that has no bearing on the point  in   
dispute1 and immediately bring the      
conversation back to it1 and  continue  
to show him that he is wrong1 without   
taking any notice of  his insults4 ,say1
 as ,themistocles said to               
,eurybiades--,strike1 but  hear me4 ,but
 such demeanour is not given to every   

one4    ,footnote #a3 ,elementa         
philosophica de ,cive4    ,as a         
sharpening of wits1 controversy is      
often1 indeed1 of mutual  advantage1 in 
order to correct one's thoughts and     
awaken new views4  ,but in learning and 
in mental power both disputants must be 
tolerably  equal4 ,if one of them lacks 
learning1 he will fail to understand the
  other1 as he is not on the same level 
with his antagonist4 ,if he lacks       
mental power1 he will be embittered1 and
 led into dishonest tricks1  and end by 
being rude4    ,the only safe rule1     
therefore1 is that which ,aristotle     
mentions in the  last chapter of his    
,topica3 not to dispute with the first  
person you  meet1 but only with those of
 your acquaintance of whom you know that
  they possess sufficient intelligence  
and self-respect not to advance         
absurdities2 to appeal to reason and not
 to authority1 and to listen  to reason 
and yield to it2 and1 finally1 to       
cherish truth1 to be  willing to accept 

reason even from an opponent1 and to be 
just enough  to bear being proved to be 
in the wrong1 should truth lie with him4
  ,from this it follows that scarcely   
one man in a hundred is worth your      
disputing with him4 ,you may let the    
remainder say what they please1  for    
every one is at liberty to be a         
fool--desipere est jus gentium4         
,remember what ,voltaire says3 ,la paix 
vaut encore mieux que la  vrit4         
,remember also an ,arabian proverb which
 tells us that on the  tree of silence  
there hangs its fruit1 which is peace4  
,,on ,,the ,,comparative ,,place ,,of   
,,interest ,,and ,,beauty ,,in ,,works  
,,of ,,art4      ,in the productions of 
poetic genius1 especially of the epic   
and  dramatic kind1 there is1 apart from
 ,beauty1 another quality which is      
attractive3 ,i mean ,interest4    ,the  
beauty of a work of art consists in the 
fact that it holds up a  clear mirror to
 certain ideas inherent in the world in 
general2 the  beauty of a work of poetic

 art in particular is that it renders   
the  ideas inherent in mankind1 and     
thereby leads it to a knowledge  of     
these ideas4 ,the means which poetry    
uses for this end are  the exhibition of
 significant characters and the         
invention of  circumstances which will  
bring about significant situations1     
giving  occasion to the characters to   
unfold their peculiarities and show what
  is in them2 so that by some such      
representation a clearer and fuller     
knowledge of the many-sided idea of     
humanity may be attained4 ,beauty1      
however1 in its general aspect1 is the  
inseparable characteristic  of the idea 
when it has become known4 ,in other     
words1 everything is  beautiful in which
 an idea is revealed2 for to be         
beautiful means no  more than clearly to
 express an idea4    ,thus we perceive  
that beauty is always an affair of      
knowledge1 and  that it appeals to the  
knowing subject1 and not to the will2   
nay1 it is a fact that the apprehension 

of beauty on the part of the  subject   
involves a complete suppression of the  
will4    ,on the other hand1 we call    
drama or descriptive poetry interesting 
when it represents events and actions of
 a kind which necessarily  arouse       
concern or sympathy1 like that which we 
feel in real events  involving our own  
person4 ,the fate of the person         
represented in them  is felt in just the
 same fashion as our own3 we await the  
development  of events with anxiety2 we 
eagerly follow their course2 our hearts 
quicken when the hero is threatened2 our
 pulse falters as the danger  reaches   
its acme1 and throbs again when he is   
suddenly rescued4 ,until  we reach the  
end of the story we cannot put the book 
aside2 we lie  away far into the night  
sympathising with our hero's troubles as
  though they were our own4 ,nay1       
instead of finding pleasure and         
recreation in such representations1 we  
should feel all the pain which  real    
life often inflicts upon us1 or at least

 the kind which pursues  us in our      
uneasy dreams1 if in the act of reading 
or looking at the  stage we had not the 
firm ground of reality always beneath   
our feet4  ,as it is1 in the stress of a
 too violent feeling1 we can find relief
  from the illusion of the moment1 and  
then give way to it again at  will4     
,moreover1 we can gain this relief      
without any such violent  transition as 
occurs in a dream1 when we rid ourselves
 of its terrors  only by the act of     
awaking4    ,it is obvious that what is 
affected by poetry of this character is 
our  will1 and not merely our           
intellectual powers pure and simple4    
,the  word interest means1 therefore1   
that which arouses the concern of  the  
individual will1 quod nostr interest2   
and here it is that  beauty is clearly  
distinguished from interest4 ,the one is
 an affair  of the intellect1 and that1 
too1 of the purest and simplest kind4   
,the  other works upon the will4        
,beauty1 then1 consists in an           

apprehension  of ideas2 and knowledge of
 this character is beyond the range of  
the  principle that nothing happens     
without a cause4 ,interest1 on the other
  hand1 has its origin nowhere but in   
the course of events2 that is to  say1  
in the complexities which are possible  
only through the action of  this        
principle in its different forms4    ,we
 have now obtained a clear conception of
 the essential difference  between the  
beauty and the interest of a work of    
art4 ,we have  recognised that beauty is
 the true end of every art1 and         
therefore1  also1 of the poetic art4 ,it
 now remains to raise the question      
whether  the interest of a work of art  
is a second end1 or a means to the      
exhibition of its beauty2 or whether the
 interest of it is produced by  its     
beauty as an essential concomitant1 and 
comes of itself as soon as  it is       
beautiful2 or whether interest is at any
 rate compatible with  the main end of  
art2 or1 finally1 whether it is a       

hindrance to it4    ,in the first place1
 it is to be observed that the interest 
of a work  of art is confined to works  
of poetic art4 ,it does not exist in the
  case of fine art1 or of music or      
architecture4 ,nay1 with these forms  of
 art it is not even conceivable1 unless1
 indeed1 the interest be of  an entirely
 personal character1 and confined to one
 or two spectators2  as1 for example1   
where a picture is a portrait of some   
one whom we  love or hate2 the building1
 my house or my prison2 the music1 my   
wedding dance1 or the tune to which ,i  
marched to the war4 ,interest of  this  
kind is clearly quite foreign to the    
essence and purpose of art2  it disturbs
 our judgment in so far as it makes the 
purely artistic  attitude impossible4   
,it may be1 indeed1 that to a smaller   
extent this  is true of all interest4   
,now1 since the interest of a work of   
art lies in the fact that we  have the  
same kind of sympathy with a poetic     
representation as with  reality1 it is  

obvious that the representation must    
deceive us for the  moment2 and this it 
can do only by its truth4 ,but truth is 
an element  in perfect art4 ,a picture1 
a poem1 should be as true as nature     
itself2  but at the same time it should 
lay stress on whatever forms the  unique
 character of its subject by drawing out
 all its essential  manifestations1 and 
by rejecting everything that is         
unessential and  accidental4 ,the       
picture or the poem will thus emphasize 
its idea1  and give us that ideal truth 
which is superior to nature4    ,truth1 
then1 forms the point that is common    
both to interest and  beauty in a work  
of art1 as it is its truth which        
produces the  illusion4 ,the fact that  
the truth of which ,i speak is ideal    
truth  might1 indeed1 be detrimental to 
the illusion1 since it is just here     
that we have the general difference     
between poetry and reality1 art  and    
nature4 ,but since it is possible for   
reality to coincide with  the ideal1 it 

is not actually necessary that this     
difference should  destroy the illusion4
 ,in the case of fine arts there is1 in 
the range  of the means which art       
adopts1 a certain limit1 and beyond it  
illusion  is impossible4 ,sculpture1    
that is to say1 gives us mere colourless
  form2 its figures are without eyes and
 without movement2 and painting         
provides us with no more than a single  
view1 enclosed within strict  limits1   
which separate the picture from the     
adjacent reality4 ,here1  then1 there is
 no room for illusion1 and consequently 
none for that  interest or sympathy     
which resembles the interest we have in 
reality2  the will is at once excluded1 
and the object alone is presented to us 
in a manner that frees it from any      
personal concern4    ,it is a highly    
remarkable fact that a spurious kind of 
fine art  oversteps these limits1       
produces an illusion of reality1 and    
arouses  our interest2 but at the same  
time it destroys the effect which fine  

art produces1 and serves as nothing but 
a mere means of exhibiting the          
beautiful1 that is1 of communicating a  
knowledge of the ideas which it         
embodies4 ,i refer to waxwork4 ,here1 we
 might say1 is the dividing  line which 
separates it from the province of fine  
art4 ,when waxwork is  properly         
executed1 it produces a perfect         
illusion2 but for that very  reason we  
approach a wax figure as we approach a  
real man1 who1 as  such1 is for the     
moment an object presented to our will4 
,that is  to say1 he is an object of    
interest2 he arouses the will1 and      
consequently stills the intellect4 ,we  
come up to a wax figure with the  same  
reserve and caution as a real man would 
inspire in us3 our will  is excited2 it 
waits to see whether he is going to be  
friendly to us1  or the reverse1 fly    
from us1 or attack us2 in a word1 it    
expects some  action of him4 ,but as the
 figure1 nevertheless1 shows no sign of 
life1  it produces the impression which 

is so very disagreeable1 namely1 of  a  
corpse4 ,this is a case where the       
interest is of the most complete  kind1 
and yet where there is no work of art at
 all4 ,in other words1  interest is not 
in itself a real end of art4    ,the    
same truth is illustrated by the fact   
that even in poetry it is  only the     
dramatic and descriptive kind to which  
interest attaches2 for  if interest     
were1 with beauty1 the aim of art1      
poetry of the lyrical  kind would1 for  
that very reason1 not take half so great
 a position as  the other two4    ,in   
the second place1 if interest were a    
means in the production of  beauty1     
every interesting work would also be    
beautiful4 ,that1 however1  is by no    
means the case4 ,a drama or a novel may 
often attract us by  its interest1 and  
yet be so utterly deficient in any kind 
of beauty  that we are afterwards       
ashamed of having wasted our time on it4
 ,this  applies to many a drama which   
gives no true picture of the real life  

of man2 which contains characters very  
superficially drawn1 or so  distorted as
 to be actual monstrosities1 such as are
 not to be found  in nature2 but the    
course of events and the play of the    
action are so  intricate1 and we feel so
 much for the hero in the situation in  
which  he is placed1 that we are not    
content until we see the knot untangled 
and the hero rescued4 ,the action is so 
cleverly governed and guided in  its    
course that we remain in a state of     
constant curiosity as to what  is going 
to happen1 and we are utterly unable to 
form a guess2 so that  between eagerness
 and surprise our interest is kept      
active2 and as we  are pleasantly       
entertained1 we do not notice the lapse 
of time4 ,most  of ,kotzebue's plays are
 of this character4 ,for the mob this is
 the  right thing3 it looks for         
amusement1 something to pass the time1  
not  for intellectual perception4       
,beauty is an affair of such perception2
  hence sensibility to beauty varies as 

much as the intellectual  faculties     
themselves4 ,for the inner truth of a   
representation1 and its  correspondence 
with the real nature of humanity1 the   
mob has no sense  at all4 ,what is flat 
and superficial it can grasp1 but the   
depths of  human nature are opened to it
 in vain4    ,it is also to be observed 
that dramatic representations which     
depend  for their value on their        
interest lose by repetition1 because    
they are  no longer able to arouse      
curiosity as to their course1 since it  
is  already known4 ,to see them often1  
makes them stale and tedious4 ,on  the  
other hand1 works of which the value    
lies in their beauty gain by            
repetition1 as they are then more and   
more understood4    ,most novels are on 
the same footing as dramatic            
representations of  this character4     
,they are creatures of the same sort of 
imagination as  we see in the           
story-teller of ,venice and ,naples1 who
 lays a hat on the  ground and waits    

until an audience is assembled4 ,then he
 spins a tale  which so captivates his  
hearers that1 when he gets to the       
catastrophe1  he makes a round of the   
crowd1 hat in hand1 for contributions1  
without  the least fear that his hearers
 will slip away4 ,similar story-tellers 
ply their trade in this country1 though 
in a less direct fashion4 ,they  do it  
through the agency of publishers and    
circulating libraries4 ,thus  they can  
avoid going about in rags1 like their   
colleagues elsewhere2  they can offer   
the children of their imagination to the
 public under  the title of novels1     
short stories1 romantic poems1 fairy    
tales1 and  so on2 and the public1 in a 
dressing-gown by the fireside1 sits down
  more at its ease1 but also with a     
greater amount of patience1 to the      
enjoyment of the interest which they    
provide4    ,how very little aesthetic  
value there generally is in productions 
of  this sort is well known2 and yet it 
cannot be denied that many of them  are 

interesting2 or else how could they be  
so popular8    ,we see1 then1 in reply  
to our second question1 that interest   
does not  necessarily involve beauty2   
and1 conversely1 it is true that beauty 
does not necessarily involve interest4  
,significant characters may be          
represented1 that open up the depths of 
human nature1 and it may all  be        
expressed in actions and sufferings of  
an exceptional kind1 so  that the real  
nature of humanity and the world may    
stand forth in  the picture in the      
clearest and most forcible lines2 and   
yet no high  degree of interest may be  
excited in the course of events by the  
continued progress of the action1 or by 
the complexity and unexpected  solution 
of the plot4 ,the immortal masterpieces 
of ,shakespeare contain  little that    
excites interest2 the action does not go
 forward in one  straight line1 but     
falters1 as in ,hamlet1 all through the 
play2  or else it spreads out in        
breadth1 as in ,the ,merchant of        

,venice1  whereas length is the proper  
dimension of interest2 or the scenes    
hang  loosely together1 as in ,henry    
,,iv4 ,thus it is that ,shakespeare's   
dramas produce no appreciable effect on 
the mob4    ,the dramatic requirement   
stated by ,aristotle1 and more          
particularly  the unity of action1 have 
in view the interest of the piece rather
  than its artistic beauty4 ,it may be  
said1 generally1 that these             
requirements are drawn up in accordance 
with the principle of  sufficient reason
 to which ,i have referred above4 ,we   
know1 however1  that the idea1 and1     
consequently1 the beauty of a work of   
art1 exist  only for the perceptive     
intelligence which has freed itself from
  the domination of that principle4 ,it 
is just here that we find the           
distinction between interest and beauty2
 as it is obvious that  interest is part
 and parcel of the mental attitude which
 is governed  by the principle1 whereas 
beauty is always beyond its range4 ,the 

best  and most striking refutation of   
the ,aristotelian unities is ,manzoni's4
  ,it may be found in the preface to his
 dramas4    ,what is true of            
,shakespeare's dramatic works is true   
also of ,goethe's4  ,even ,egmont makes 
little effect on the public1 because it 
contains  scarcely any complication or  
development2 and if ,egmont fails1 what 
are we to say of ,tasso or ,iphigenia8  
,that the ,greek tragedians did  not    
look to interest as a means of working  
upon the public1 is clear  from the fact
 that the material of their masterpieces
 was almost  always known to every one3 
they selected events which had often    
been  treated dramatically before4 ,this
 shows us how sensitive was the  ,greek 
public to the beautiful1 as it did not  
require the interest of  unexpected     
events and new stories to season its    
enjoyment4    ,neither does the quality 
of interest often attach to masterpieces
 of  descriptive poetry4 ,father ,homer 
lays the world and humanity before us   

in its true nature1 but he takes no     
trouble to attract our sympathy  by a   
complexity of circumstance1 or to       
surprise us by unexpected               
entanglements4 ,his pace is lingering2  
he stops at every scene2 he puts  one   
picture after another tranquilly before 
us1 elaborating it  with care4 ,we      
experience no passionate emotion in     
reading him2 our  demeanour is one of   
pure perceptive intelligence2 he does   
not arouse  our will1 but sings it to   
rest2 and it costs us no effort to break
 off  in our reading1 for we are not in 
condition of eager curiosity4 ,this  is 
all still more true of ,dante1 whose    
work is not1 in the proper  sense of the
 word1 an epic1 but a descriptive poem4 
,the same thing may  be said of the four
 immortal romances3 ,don ,quixote1      
,tristram ,shandy1  ,la ,nouvelle       
,helose1 and ,wilhelm ,meister4 ,to     
arouse our interest  is by no means the 
chief aim of these works2 in ,tristram  
,shandy the  hero1 even at the end of   

the book1 is only eight years of age4   
,on the other hand1 we must not venture 
to assert that the quality of  interest 
is not to be found in masterpieces of   
literature4 ,we have it  in ,schiller's 
dramas in an appreciable degree1 and    
consequently  they are popular2 also in 
the ,oedipus ,rex of ,sophocles4        
,amongst  masterpieces of description1  
we find it in ,ariosto's ,orlando       
,furioso2 nay1 an example of a high     
degree of interest1 bound up with  the  
beautiful1 is afforded in an excellent  
novel by ,walter ,scott--,the  ,heart of
 ,midlothian4 ,this is the most         
interesting work of fiction  that ,i    
know1 where all the effects due to      
interest1 as ,i have given  them        
generally in the preceding remarks1 may 
be most clearly observed4  ,at the same 
time it is a very beautiful romance     
throughout2 it shows  the most varied   
pictures of life1 drawn with striking   
truth2 and it  exhibits highly different
 characters with great justice and      

fidelity4    ,interest1 then1 is        
certainly compatible with beauty4 ,that 
was our  third question4 ,nevertheless1 
a comparatively small admixture of the  
element of interest may well be found to
 be most advantageous as far  as beauty 
is concerned2 for beauty is and remains 
the end of art4  ,beauty is in twofold  
opposition with interest2 firstly1      
because it  lies in the perception of   
the idea1 and such perception takes its 
object entirely out of the range of the 
forms enunciated by the  principle of   
sufficient reason2 whereas interest has 
its sphere mainly  in circumstance1 and 
it is out of this principle that the    
complexity  of circumstance arises4     
,secondly1 interest works by exciting   
the will2  whereas beauty exists only   
for the pure perceptive intelligence1   
which  has no will4 ,however1 with      
dramatic and descriptive literature an  
admixture of interest is necessary1 just
 as a volatile and gaseous  substance   
requires a material basis if it is to be

 preserved and  transferred4 ,the       
admixture is necessary1 partly1 indeed1 
because  interest is itself created by  
the events which have to be devised in  
order to set the characters in motion2  
partly because our minds would  be weary
 of watching scene after scene if they  
had no concern for us1  or of passing   
from one significant picture to another 
if we were not  drawn on by some secret 
thread4 ,it is this that we call        
interest2  it is the sympathy which the 
event in itself forces us to feel1 and  
which1 by riveting our attention1 makes 
the mind obedient to the poet1  and able
 to follow him into all the parts of his
 story4    ,if the interest of a work of
 art is sufficient to achieve this      
result1  it does all that can be        
required of it2 for its only service is 
to  connect the pictures by which the   
poet desires to communicate a  knowledge
 of the idea1 as if they were pearls1   
and interest were the  thread that holds
 them together1 and makes an ornament   

out of the  whole4 ,but interest is     
prejudicial to beauty as soon as it     
oversteps  this limit2 and this is the  
case if we are so led away by the       
interest  of a work that whenever we    
come to any detailed description in a   
novel1 or any lengthy reflection on the 
part of a character in a  drama1 we grow
 impatient and want to put spurs to our 
author1 so that  we may follow the      
development of events with greater      
speed4 ,epic and  dramatic writings1    
where beauty and interest are both      
present in a  high degree1 may be       
compared to the working of a watch1     
where interest  is the spring which     
keeps all the wheels in motion4 ,if it  
worked  unhindered1 the watch would run 
down in a few minutes4 ,beauty1 holding 
us in the spell of description and      
reflection1 is like the barrel  which   
checks its movement4    ,or we may say  
that interest is the body of a poetic   
work1 and beauty  the soul4 ,in the epic
 and the drama1 interest1 as a necessary

 quality  of the action1 is the matter2 
and beauty1 the form that requires the  
matter in order to be visible4          
,,psychological ,,observations4      ,in
 the moment when a great affliction     
overtakes us1 we are hurt to  find that 
the world about us is unconcerned and   
goes its own way4 ,as  ,goethe says in  
,tasso1 how easily it leaves us helpless
 and alone1  and continues its course   
like the sun and the moon and the other 
gods3          444 die ,welt1 wie sie so
 leicht1    ,uns hlflos1 einsam lsst1   
und ihren ,weg1    ,wie ,sonn' und ,mond
 und andre ,gtter geht4    ,nay more6 it
 is something intolerable that even we  
ourselves have  to go on with the       
mechanical round of our daily business1 
and that  thousands of our own actions  
are and must be unaffected by the pain  
that throbs within us4 ,and so1 to      
restore the harmony between our  outward
 doings and our inward feelings1 we     
storm and shout1 and tear  our hair1 and
 stamp with pain or rage4    ,our       

temperament is so despotic that we are  
not satisfied unless  we draw everything
 into our own life1 and force all the   
world to  sympathise with us4 ,the only 
way of achieving this would be to win   
the  love of others1 so that the        
afflictions which oppress our own hearts
  might oppress theirs as well4 ,since  
that is attended with some  difficulty1 
we often choose the shorter way1 and    
blab out our burden  of woe to people   
who do not care1 and listen with        
curiosity1 but  without sympathy1 and   
much oftener with satisfaction4         
,speech and the communication of        
thought1 which1 in their mutual         
relations1 are always attended by a     
slight impulse on the part of the  will1
 are almost a physical necessity4       
,sometimes1 however1 the lower  animals 
entertain me much more than the average 
man4 ,for1 in the first  place1 what can
 such a man say8 ,it is only            
conceptions1 that is1 the  driest of    
ideas1 that can be communicated by means

 of words2 and what  sort of conceptions
 has the average man to communicate1 if 
he does  not merely tell a story or give
 a report1 neither of which makes       
conversation8 ,the greatest charm of    
conversation is the mimetic part  of    
it1--the character that is manifested1  
be it never so little4 ,take  the best  
of men2 how little he can say of what   
goes on within  him1 since it is only   
conceptions that are communicable2 and  
yet a  conversation with a clever man is
 one of the greatest of pleasures4      
,it is not only that ordinary men have  
little to say1 but what  intellect they 
have puts them in the way of concealing 
and distorting  it2 and it is the       
necessity of practising this concealment
 that gives  them such a pitiable       
character2 so that what they exhibit is 
not even  the little that they have1 but
 a mask and disguise4 ,the lower        
animals1  which have no reason1 can     
conceal nothing2 they are altogether    
nave1 and therefore very entertaining1  

if we have only an eye for  the kind of 
communications which they make4 ,they   
speak not with words1  but with shape   
and structure1 and manner of life1 and  
the things they  set about2 they express
 themselves1 to an intelligent observer1
 in a  very pleasing and entertaining   
fashion4 ,it is a varied life that is   
presented to him1 and one that in its   
manifestation is very different  from   
his own2 and yet essentially it is the  
same4 ,he sees it in its  simple form1  
when reflection is excluded2 for with   
the lower animals  life is lived wholly 
in and for the present moment3 it is the
 present  that the animal grasps2 it has
 no care1 or at least no conscious care1
  for the morrow1 and no fear of death2 
and so it is wholly taken up  with life 
and living4           99       99       
99       99       99    ,the            
conversation among ordinary people1 when
 it does not relate to any  special     
matter of fact1 but takes a more general
 character1 mostly  consists in         

hackneyed commonplaces1 which they      
alternately repeat to  each other with  
the utmost complacency4#a    ,footnote  
#a3 ,translator's ,note4--,this         
observation is in  ,schopenhauer's own  
,english4           99       99       99
       99       99    ,some men can     
despise any blessing as soon as they    
cease to possess  it2 others only when  
they have obtained it4 ,the latter are  
the more  unhappy1 and the nobler1 of   
the two4           99       99       99 
99       99    ,when the aching heart   
grieves no more over any particular     
object1  but is oppressed by life as a  
whole1 it withdraws1 as it were1 into   
itself4 ,there is here a retreat and    
gradual extinction of the will1  whereby
 the body1 which is the manifestation of
 the will1 is slowly  but surely        
undermined2 and the individual          
experiences a steady  dissolution of his
 bonds1--a quiet presentiment of death4 
,hence the  heart which aches has a     
secret joy of its own2 and it is this1  

,i  fancy1 which the ,english call the  
joy of grief4    ,the pain that extends 
to life as a whole1 and loosens our hold
 on  it1 is the only pain that is really
 tragic4 ,that which attaches to        
particular objects is a will that is    
broken1 but not resigned2 it  exhibits  
the struggle and inner contradiction of 
the will and of life  itself2 and it is 
comic1 be it never so violent4 ,it is   
like the pain  of the miser at the loss 
of his hoard4 ,even though pain of the  
tragic  kind proceeds from a single     
definite object1 it does not remain     
there2  it takes the separate affliction
 only as a symbol of life as a  whole1  
and transfers it thither4           99  
99       99       99       99           
,vexation is the attitude of the        
individual as intelligence towards  the 
check imposed upon a strong             
manifestation of the individual as      
will4 ,there are two ways of avoiding   
it3 either by repressing the  violence  
of the will--in other words1 by virtue2 

or by keeping  the intelligence from    
dwelling upon the check--in other words1
 by  ,stoicism4           99       99   
99       99       99    ,to win the     
favour of a very beautiful woman by     
one's personality alone  is perhaps a   
greater satisfaction to one's vanity    
than to anything  else2 for it is an    
assurance that one's personality is an  
equivalent  for the person that is      
treasured and desired and defied above  
all  others4 ,hence it is that despised 
love is so great a pang1 especially     
when it is associated with well-founded 
jealousy4    ,with this joy and this    
pain1 it is probable that vanity is more
  largely concerned than the senses1    
because it is only the things  of the   
mind1 and not mere sensuality1 that     
produce such violent  convulsions4 ,the 
lower animals are familiar with lust1   
but not with  the passionate pleasures  
and pains of love4           99       99
       99       99       99    ,to be   
suddenly placed in a strange town or    

country where the manner of  life1      
possibly even the language1 is very     
different from our own1 is1  at the     
first moment1 like stepping into cold   
water4 ,we are brought  into sudden     
contact with a new temperature1 and we  
feel a powerful and  superior influence 
from without which affects us           
uncomfortably4 ,we  find ourselves in a 
strange element1 where we cannot move   
with ease2  and1 over and above that1 we
 have the feeling that while everything 
strikes us as strange1 we ourselves     
strike others in the same way4  ,but as 
soon as we are a little composed and    
reconciled to our  surroundings1 as soon
 as we have appropriated some of its    
temperature1  we feel an extraordinary  
sense of satisfaction1 as in bathing in 
cool  water2 we assimilate ourselves to 
the new element1 and cease to have  any 
necessary pre-occupation with our       
person4 ,we devote our attention        
undisturbed to our environment1 to which
 we now feel ourselves  superior by     

being able to view it in an objective   
and disinterested  fashion1 instead of  
being oppressed by it1 as before4       
99       99       99       99       99  
,when we are on a journey1 and all kinds
 of remarkable objects press  themselves
 on our attention1 the intellectual food
 which we receive is  often so large in 
amount that we have no time for         
digestion2 and we  regret that the      
impressions which succeed one another so
 quickly leave  no permanent trace4 ,but
 at bottom it is the same with          
travelling as  with reading4 ,how often 
do we complain that we cannot remember  
one  thousandth part of what we read6   
,in both cases1 however1 we may  console
 ourselves with the reflection that the 
things we see and read  make an         
impression on the mind before they are  
forgotten1 and so  contribute to its    
formation and nurture2 while that which 
we only  remember does no more than     
stuff it and puff it out1 filling up its
  hollows with matter that will always  

be strange to it1 and leaving it  in    
itself a blank4           99       99   
99       99       99    ,it is the very 
many and varied forms in which human    
life is presented  to us on our travels 
that make them entertaining4 ,but we    
never see  more than its outside1 such  
as is everywhere open to public view and
  accessible to strangers4 ,on the other
 hand1 human life on its  inside1 the   
heart and centre1 where it lives and    
moves and shows its  character1 and in  
particular that part of the inner side  
which could  be seen at home amongst our
 relatives1 is not seen2 we have        
exchanged  it for the outer side4 ,this 
is why on our travels we see the world  
like a painted landscape1 with a very   
wide horizon1 but no foreground2  and   
why1 in time1 we get tired of it4       
99       99       99       99       99  
,one man is more concerned with the     
impression which he makes upon  the rest
 of mankind2 another1 with the          
impression which the rest of  mankind   

makes upon him4 ,the disposition of the 
one is subjective2 of  the other1       
objective2 the one is1 in the whole of  
his existence1 more  in the nature of an
 idea which is merely presented2 the    
other1 more of  the being who presents  
it4           99       99       99      
99       99    ,a woman 7with certain   
exceptions which need not be mentioned7 
will not  take the first step with a    
man2 for in spite of all the beauty she 
may  have1 she risks a refusal4 ,a man  
may be ill in mind or body1 or busy1  or
 gloomy1 and so not care for advances2  
and a refusal would be a blow  to her   
vanity4 ,but as soon as he takes the    
first step1 and helps her  over this    
danger1 he stands on a footing of       
equality with her1 and  will generally  
find her quite tractable4           99  
99       99       99       99    ,the   
praise with which many men speak of     
their wives is really given  to their   
own judgment in selecting them4 ,this   
arises1 perhaps1 from a  feeling of the 

truth of the saying1 that a man shows   
what he is by the  way in which he dies1
 and by the choice of his wife4         
99       99       99       99       99  
,if education or warning were of any    
avail1 how could ,seneca's pupil be  a  
,nero8           99       99       99   
99       99    ,the ,pythagorean#a      
principle that like is known only by    
like is  in many respects a true one4   
,it explains how it is that every man   
understands his fellow only in so far as
 he resembles him1 or1 at  least1 is of 
a similar character4 ,what one man is   
quite sure of  perceiving in another is 
that which is common to all1 namely1 the
  vulgar1 petty or mean elements of our 
nature2 here every man has a  perfect   
understanding of his fellows2 but the   
advantage which one man  has over       
another does not exist for the other1   
who1 be the talents in  question as     
extraordinary as they may1 will never   
see anything beyond  what he possesses  
himself1 for the very good reason that  

this is all  he wants to see4 ,if there 
is anything on which he is in doubt1 it 
will  give him a vague sense of fear1   
mixed with pique2 because it passes  his
 comprehension1 and therefore is        
uncongenial to him4    ,footnote #a3    
,see ,porphyry1 de ,vita ,pythagorae4   
,this is why it is mind alone that      
understands mind2 why works of  genius  
are wholly understood and valued only by
 a man of genius1 and  why it must      
necessarily be a long time before they  
indirectly attract  attention at the    
hands of the crowd1 for whom they will  
never1 in any  true sense1 exist4 ,this1
 too1 is why one man will look another  
in the  face1 with the impudent         
assurance that he will never see        
anything but  a miserable resemblance of
 himself2 and this is just what he will 
see1  as he cannot grasp anything beyond
 it4 ,hence the bold way in which one   
man will contradict another4 ,finally1  
it is for the same reason that  great   
superiority of mind isolates a man1 and 

that those of high gifts  keep          
themselves aloof from the vulgar 7and   
that means every one72 for  if they     
mingle with the crowd1 they can         
communicate only such parts of  them as 
they share with the crowd1 and so make  
themselves common4  ,nay1 even though   
they possess some well-founded and      
authoritative  reputation amongst the   
crowd1 they are not long in losing it1  
together  with any personal weight it   
may give them1 since all are blind to   
the  qualities on which it is based1 but
 have their eyes open to anything  that 
is vulgar and common to themselves4     
,they soon discover the truth  of the   
,arabian proverb3 ,joke with a slave1   
and he'll show you his  heels4    ,it   
also follows that a man of high gifts1  
in his intercourse with  others1 must   
always reflect that the best part of him
 is out of sight  in the clouds2 so that
 if he desires to know accurately how   
much he  can be to any one else1 he has 
only to consider how much the man in    

question is to him4 ,this1 as a rule1 is
 precious little2 and therefore  he is  
as uncongenial to the other1 as the     
other to him4           99       99     
99       99       99    ,goethe says    
somewhere that man is not without a vein
 of veneration4 ,to  satisfy this       
impulse to venerate1 even in those who  
have no sense  for what is really       
worthy1 substitutes are provided in the 
shape of  princes and princely families1
 nobles1 titles1 orders1 and money-bags4
           99       99       99       99
       99    ,vague longing and boredom 
are close akin4           99       99   
99       99       99    ,when a man is  
dead1 we envy him no more2 and we only  
half envy him  when he is old4          
99       99       99       99       99  
,misanthropy and love of solitude are   
convertible ideas4           99       99
       99       99       99    ,in      
chess1 the object of the game1 namely1  
to checkmate one's opponent1  is of     
arbitrary adoption2 of the possible     

means of attaining it1 there  is a great
 number2 and according as we make a     
prudent use of them1 we  arrive at our  
goal4 ,we enter on the game of our own  
choice4    ,nor is it otherwise with    
human life1 only that here the entrance 
is  not of our choosing1 but is forced  
on us2 and the object1 which is to  live
 and exist1 seems1 indeed1 at times as  
though it were of arbitrary  adoption1  
and that we could1 if necessary1        
relinquish it4 ,nevertheless  it is1 in 
the strict sense of the word1 a natural 
object2 that is to  say1 we cannot      
relinquish it without giving up         
existence itself4 ,if we  regard our    
existence as the work of some arbitrary 
power outside us1  we must1 indeed1     
admire the cunning by which that        
creative mind has  succeeded in making  
us place so much value on an object     
which is only  momentary and must of    
necessity be laid aside very soon1 and  
which we  see1 moreover1 on reflection1 
to be altogether vanity--in making1 ,i  

say1 this object so dear to us that we  
eagerly exert all our strength  in      
working at it2 although we knew that as 
soon as the game is over1  the object   
will exist for us no longer1 and that1  
on the whole1 we  cannot say what it is 
that makes it so attractive4 ,nay1 it   
seems to be  an object as arbitrarily   
adopted as that of checkmating our      
opponent's  king2 and1 nevertheless1 we 
are always intent on the means of       
attaining it1 and think and brood over  
nothing else4 ,it is clear that  the    
reason of it is that our intellect is   
only capable of looking  outside1 and   
has no power at all of looking within2  
and1 since this is  so1 we have come to 
the conclusion that we must make the    
best of it4          ,,on ,,the ,,wisdom
 ,,of ,,life3 ,,aphorisms4      ,the    
simple ,philistine believes that life is
 something infinite and  unconditioned1 
and tries to look upon it and live it as
 though it left  nothing to be desired4 
,by method and principle the learned    

,philistine  does the same3 he believes 
that his methods and his principles are 
unconditionally perfect and objectively 
valid2 so that as soon as he  has found 
them1 he has nothing to do but apply    
them to circumstances1  and then approve
 or condemn4 ,but happiness and truth   
are not to be  seized in this fashion4  
,it is phantoms of them alone that are  
sent to  us here1 to stir us to action2 
the average man pursues the shadow of   
happiness with unwearied labour2 and the
 thinker1 the shadow of truth2  and     
both1 though phantoms are all they have1
 possess in them as much  as they can   
grasp4 ,life is a language in which     
certain truths are  conveyed to us2     
could we learn them in some other way1  
we should not  live4 ,thus it is that   
wise sayings and prudential maxims will 
never  make up for the lack of          
experience1 or be a substitute for life 
itself4 ,still they are not to be       
despised2 for they1 too1 are a part  of 
life2 nay1 they should be highly        

esteemed and regarded as the  loose     
pages which others have copied from the 
book of truth as it is  imparted by the 
spirit of the world4 ,but they are pages
 which must  needs be imperfect1 and can
 never replace the real living voice4   
,still  less can this be so when we     
reflect that life1 or the book of truth1
  speaks differently to us all2 like the
 apostles who preached at  ,pentecost1  
and instructed the multitude1 appearing 
to each man to  speak in his own tongue4
           99       99       99       99
       99    ,recognise the truth in    
yourself1 recognise yourself in the     
truth2 and  in the same moment you will 
find1 to your astonishment1 that the    
home  which you have long been looking  
for in vain1 which has filled your  most
 ardent dreams1 is there in its         
entirety1 with every detail of it  true1
 in the very place where you stand4 ,it 
is there that your heaven  touches your 
earth4           99       99       99   
99       99    ,what makes us almost    

inevitably ridiculous is our serious way
 of  treating the passing moment1 as    
though it necessarily had all the       
importance which it seems to have4 ,it  
is only a few great minds that  are     
above this weakness1 and1 instead of    
being laughed at1 have come  to laugh   
themselves4           99       99       
99       99       99    ,the bright and 
good moments of our life ought to teach 
us how to act  aright when we are       
melancholy and dull and stupid1 by      
preserving the  memory of their results2
 and the melancholy1 dull1 and stupid   
moments  should teach us to be modest   
when we are bright4 ,for we generally   
value ourselves according to our best   
and brightest moments2 and those  in    
which we are weak and dull and          
miserable1 we regard as no proper  part 
of us4 ,to remember them will teach us  
to be modest1 humble1 and  tolerant4    
,mark my words once for all1 my dear    
friend1 and be clever4 ,men are         
entirely self-centred1 and incapable of 

looking at things objectively4  ,if you 
had a dog and wanted to make him fond of
 you1 and fancied that  of your hundred 
rare and excellent characteristics the  
mongrel would  be sure to perceive one1 
and that that would be sufficient to    
make him  devoted to you body and       
soul--if1 ,i say1 you fancied that1 you 
would  be a fool4 ,pat him1 give him    
something to eat2 and for the rest1 be  
what you please3 he will not in the     
least care1 but will be your  faithful  
and devoted dog4 ,now1 believe me1 it is
 just the same with  men--exactly the   
same4 ,as ,goethe says1 man or dog1 it  
is a miserable  wretch3      ,denn ein  
erbrmlicher ,schuft1 so wie der ,mensch1
 ist der hund4    ,if you ask why these 
contemptible fellows are so lucky1 it is
 just  because1 in themselves and for   
themselves and to themselves1 they are  
nothing at all4 ,the value which they   
possess is merely comparative2  they    
exist only for others2 they are never   
more than means2 they are  never an end 

and object in themselves2 they are mere 
bait1 set to  catch others4#a ,i do not 
admit that this rule is susceptible of  
any  exception1 that is to say1 complete
 exceptions4 ,there are1 it is true1    
men--though they are sufficiently       
rare--who enjoy some subjective         
moments2 nay1 there are perhaps some who
 for every hundred subjective  moments  
enjoy a few that are objective2 but a   
higher state of  perfection scarcely    
ever occurs4 ,but do not take yourself  
for an  exception3 examine your love1   
your friendship1 and consider if your   
objective judgments are not mostly      
subjective judgments in disguise2       
consider if you duly recognise the good 
qualities of a man who is not  fond of  
you4 ,then be tolerant3 confound it6    
it's your duty4 ,as you are  all so     
self-centred1 recognise your own        
weakness4 ,you know that you  cannot    
like a man who does not show himself    
friendly to you2 you know  that he      
cannot do so for any length of time     

unless he likes you1 and  that he cannot
 like you unless you show that you are  
friendly to him2  then do it3 your false
 friendliness will gradually become a   
true one4  ,your own weakness and       
subjectivity must have some illusion4   
,footnote #a3 ,all this is very         
euphemistically expressed in the        
,sophoclean verse3    7,greek3 charis   
charin gar estin ha tiktous aei7        
,this is really an  priori justification
 of politeness2 but ,i could  give a    
still deeper reason for it4           99
       99       99       99       99    
,consider that chance1 which1 with      
error1 its brother1 and folly1 its      
aunt1 and malice1 its grandmother1 rules
 in this world2 which every  year and   
every day1 by blows great and small1    
embitters the life of  every son of     
earth1 and yours too2 consider1 ,i say1 
that it is to this  wicked power that   
you owe your prosperity and             
independence2 for it  gave you what it  
refused to many thousands1 just to be   

able to give it  to individuals like    
you4 ,remembering all this1 you will not
 behave as  though you had a right to   
the possession of its gifts2 but you    
will  perceive what a capricious        
mistress it is that gives you her       
favours2  and therefore when she takes  
it into her head to deprive you of some 
or all of them1 you will not make a     
great fuss about her injustice2  but you
 will recognise that what chance gave1  
chance has taken  away2 if needs be1 you
 will observe that this power is not    
quite so  favourable to you as she      
seemed to be hitherto4 ,why1 she might  
have  disposed not only of what she gave
 you1 but also of your honest and       
hard-earned gains4    ,but if chance    
still remains so favourable to you as to
 give you more  than almost all others  
whose path in life you may care to      
examine1 oh6  be happy2 do not struggle 
for the possession of her presents2     
employ  them properly2 look upon them as
 property held from a capricious lord2  

use them wisely and well4           99  
99       99       99       99    ,the   
,aristotelian principle of keeping the  
mean in all things is ill  suited to the
 moral law for which it was intended2   
but it may easily  be the best general  
rule of worldly wisdom1 the best precept
 for a  happy life4 ,for life is so full
 of uncertainty2 there are on all sides 
so many discomforts1 burdens1           
sufferings1 dangers1 that a safe and    
happy voyage can be accomplished only by
 steering carefully through  the rocks4 
,as a rule1 the fear of the ills we know
 drive us into the  contrary ills2 the  
pain of solitude1 for example1 drives us
 into  society1 and the first society   
that comes2 the discomforts of society  
drive us into solitude2 we exchange a   
forbidding demeanour for  incautious    
confidence and so on4 ,it is ever the   
mark of folly to avoid  one vice by     
rushing into its contrary3      ,stulti 
dum vitant vitia in contraria currunt4  
,or else we think that we shall find    

satisfaction in something1 and  spend   
all our efforts on it2 and thereby we   
omit to provide for the  satisfaction of
 a hundred other wishes which make      
themselves felt at  their own time4 ,one
 loss and omission follows another1 and 
there is no  end to the misery4         
,greek3 ,maeden agan and nil admirari   
are1 therefore1 excellent  rules of     
worldly wisdom4           99       99   
99       99       99    ,we often find  
that people of great experience are the 
most frank and  cordial in their        
intercourse with complete strangers1 in 
whom  they have no interest whatever4   
,the reason of this is that men of      
experience know that it is almost       
impossible for people who stand in  any 
sort of mutual relation to be sincere   
and open with one another2  but that    
there is always more or less of a strain
 between them1 due  to the fact that    
they are looking after their own        
interests1 whether  immediate or remote4
 ,they regret the fact1 but they know   

that it  is so2 hence they leave their  
own people1 rush into the arms of a     
complete stranger1 and in happy         
confidence open their hearts to him4    
,thus it is that monks and the like1 who
 have given up the world and  are       
strangers to it1 are such good people to
 turn to for advice4           99       
99       99       99       99    ,it is 
only by practising mutual restraint and 
self-denial that we can  act and talk   
with other people2 and1 therefore1 if we
 have to converse  at all1 it can only  
be with a feeling of resignation4 ,for  
if we seek  society1 it is because we   
want fresh impressions3 these come from 
without1 and are therefore foreign to   
ourselves4 ,if a man fails to  perceive 
this1 and1 when he seeks the society of 
others1 is unwilling  to practise       
resignation1 and absolutely refuses to  
deny himself1 nay1  demands that others1
 who are altogether different from      
himself1  shall nevertheless be just    
what he wants them to be for the moment1

  according to the degree of education  
which he has reached1 or  according to  
his intellectual powers or his mood--the
 man1 ,i say1 who  does this1 is in     
contradiction with himself4 ,for while  
he wants some  one who shall be         
different from himself1 and wants him   
just because  he is different1 for the  
sake of society and fresh influence1 he 
nevertheless demands that this other    
individual shall precisely  resemble the
 imaginary creature who accords with his
 mood1 and have no  thoughts but those  
which he has himself4    ,women are very
 liable to subjectivity of this kind2   
but men are not  free from it either4   
,i observed once to ,goethe1 in         
complaining of the illusion and vanity  
of life1 that when a friend is with us  
we do not think the same of him  as when
 he is away4 ,he replied3 ,yes6 because 
the absent friend is  yourself1 and he  
exists only in your head2 whereas the   
friend who is  present has an           
individuality of his own1 and moves     

according to laws  of his own1 which    
cannot always be in accordance with     
those which you  form for yourself4     
99       99       99       99       99  
,a good supply of resignation is of the 
first importance in providing  for the  
journey of life4 ,it is a supply which  
we shall have to extract  from          
disappointed hopes2 and the sooner we do
 it1 the better for the  rest of the    
journey4           99       99       99 
99       99    ,how should a man be     
content so long as he fails to obtain   
complete  unity in his inmost being8    
,for as long as two voices alternately  
speak  in him1 what is right for one    
must be wrong for the other4 ,thus he is
  always complaining4 ,but has any man  
ever been completely at one with        
himself8 ,nay1 is not the very thought a
 contradiction8    ,that a man shall    
attain this inner unity is the          
impossible and  inconsistent pretension 
put forward by almost all               
philosophers4#a ,for  as a man it is    

natural to him to be at war with himself
 as long as  he lives4 ,while he can be 
only one thing thoroughly1 he has the   
disposition to be everything else1 and  
the inalienable possibility  of being   
it4 ,if he has made his choice of one   
thing1 all the other  possibilities are 
always open to him1 and are constantly  
claiming to  be realised2 and he has    
therefore to be continuously keeping    
them  back1 and to be overpowering and  
killing them as long as he wants to  be 
that one thing4 ,for example1 if he     
wants to think only1 and not  act and do
 business1 the disposition to the latter
 is not thereby  destroyed all at once2 
but as long as the thinker lives1 he has
 every  hour to keep on killing the     
acting and pushing man that is within   
him2  always battling with himself1 as  
though he were a monster whose head  is 
no sooner struck off than it grows      
again4 ,in the same way1 if he is       
resolved to be a saint1 he must kill    
himself so far as he is a being  that   

enjoys and is given over to pleasure2   
for such he remains as long  as he      
lives4 ,it is not once for all that he  
must kill himself3 he  must keep on     
doing it all his life4 ,if he has       
resolved upon pleasure1  whatever be the
 way in which it is to be obtained1 his 
lifelong  struggle is with a being that 
desires to be pure and free and holy2   
for the disposition remains1 and he has 
to kill it every hour4 ,and so  on in   
everything1 with infinite modifications2
 it is now one side of  him1 and now the
 other1 that conquers2 he himself is the
 battlefield4  ,if one side of him is   
continually conquering1 the other is    
continually  struggling2 for its life is
 bound up with his own1 and1 as a man1  
he  is the possibility of many          
contradictions4    ,footnote #a3        
,audacter licet profitearis1 summum     
bonum esse anm  concordian4--,seneca4   
,how is inner unity even possible under 
such circumstances8 ,it exists  neither 
in the saint nor in the sinner2 or      

rather1 the truth is that  no man is    
wholly one or the other4 ,for it is men 
they have to be2  that is1 luckless     
beings1 fighters and gladiators in the  
arena of  life4    ,to be sure1 the best
 thing he can do is to recognise which  
part of him  smarts the most under      
defeat1 and let it always gain the      
victory4 ,this  he will always be able  
to do by the use of his reason1 which is
 an  ever-present fund of ideas4 ,let   
him resolve of his own free will to     
undergo the pain which the defeat of the
 other part involves4 ,this  is         
character4 ,for the battle of life      
cannot be waged free from all  pain2 it 
cannot come to an end without bloodshed2
 and in any case  a man must suffer     
pain1 for he is the conquered as well as
 the  conqueror4 ,haec est vivendi      
conditio4           99       99       99
       99       99    ,the clever man1  
when he converses1 will think less of   
what he is  saying that of the person   
with whom he is speaking2 for then he is

  sure to say nothing which he will     
afterwards regret2 he is sure not to    
lay himself open1 nor to commit an      
indiscretion4 ,but his conversation     
will never be particularly interesting4 
,an intellectual man readily does the   
opposite1 and with him the person  with 
whom he converses is often no more than 
the mere occasion of a  monologue2 and  
it often happens that the other then    
makes up for his  subordinate rle by    
lying in wait for the man of intellect1 
and  drawing his secrets out of him4    
99       99       99       99       99  
,nothing betrays less knowledge of      
humanity than to suppose that1 if  a man
 has a great many friends1 it is a proof
 of merit and intrinsic  value3 as      
though men gave their friendship        
according to value and  merit6 as though
 they were not1 rather1 just like dogs1 
which love the  person that pats them   
and gives them bits of meat1 and never  
trouble  themselves about anything else6
 ,the man who understands how to pat his

  fellows best1 though they be the      
nastiest brutes1--that's the man who    
has many friends4    ,it is the converse
 that is true4 ,men of great            
intellectual worth1 or1  still more1 men
 of genius1 can have only very few      
friends2 for their  clear eye soon      
discovers all defects1 and their sense  
of rectitude is  always being outraged  
afresh by the extent and the horror of  
them4 ,it  is only extreme necessity    
that can compel such men not to betray  
their  feelings1 or even to stroke the  
defects as if they were beautiful       
additions4 ,personal love 7for we are   
not speaking of the reverence  which is 
gained by authority7 cannot be won by a 
man of genius1 unless  the gods have    
endowed him with an indestructible      
cheerfulness of  temper1 a glance that  
makes the world look beautiful1 or      
unless he has  succeeded by degrees in  
taking men exactly as they are2 that is 
to  say1 in making a fool of the fools1 
as is right and proper4 ,on the  heights

 we must expect to be solitary4         
99       99       99       99       99  
,our constant discontent is for the most
 part rooted in the impulse of          
self-preservation4 ,this passes into a  
kind of selfishness1 and makes a  duty  
out of the maxim that we should always  
fix our minds upon what we  lack1 so    
that we may endeavour to procure it4    
,thus it is that we are  always intent  
on finding out what we want1 and on     
thinking of it2  but that maxim allows  
us to overlook undisturbed the things   
which we  already possess2 and so1 as   
soon as we have obtained anything1 we   
give  it much less attention than       
before4 ,we seldom think of what we     
have1  but always of what we lack4      
,this maxim of egoism1 which has1       
indeed1 its advantages in procuring  the
 means to the end in view1 itself       
concurrently destroys the  ultimate end1
 namely1 contentment2 like the bear in  
the fable that  throws a stone at the   
hermit to kill the fly on his nose4 ,we 

ought to  wait until need and privation 
announce themselves1 instead of  looking
 for them4 ,minds that are naturally    
content do this1 while  hypochondrists  
do the reverse4           99       99   
99       99       99    ,a man's nature 
is in harmony with itself when he       
desires to be nothing  but what he is2  
that is to say1 when he has attained by 
experience a  knowledge of his strength 
and of his weakness1 and makes use of   
the  one and conceals the other1 instead
 of playing with false coin1 and  trying
 to show a strength which he does not   
possess4 ,it is a harmony  which        
produces an agreeable and rational      
character2 and for the simple  reason   
that everything which makes the man and 
gives him his mental  and physical      
qualities is nothing but the            
manifestation of his will2  is1 in fact1
 what he wills4 ,therefore it is the    
greatest of all  inconsistencies to wish
 to be other than we are4           99  
99       99       99       99    ,people

 of a strange and curious temperament   
can be happy only under  strange        
circumstances1 such as suit their       
nature1 in the same way as  ordinary    
circumstances suit the ordinary man2 and
 such circumstances  can arise only if1 
in some extraordinary way1 they happen  
to meet with  strange people of a       
character different indeed1 but still   
exactly  suited to their own4 ,that is  
why men of rare or strange qualities are
  seldom happy4           99       99   
99       99       99    ,all this       
pleasure is derived from the use and    
consciousness of power2  and the        
greatest of pains that a man can feel is
 to perceive that  his powers fail just 
when he wants to use them4 ,therefore it
 will be  advantageous for every man to 
discover what powers he possesses1 and  
what powers he lacks4 ,let him1 then1   
develop the powers in which he is       
pre-eminent1 and make a strong use of   
them2 let him pursue the path  where    
they will avail him2 and even though he 

has to conquer his  inclinations1 let   
him avoid the path where such powers are
 requisite  as he possesses only in a   
low degree4 ,in this way he will often  
have a  pleasant consciousness of       
strength1 and seldom a painful          
consciousness  of weakness2 and it will 
go well with him4 ,but if he lets       
himself be  drawn into efforts demanding
 a kind of strength quite different from
  that in which he is pre-eminent1 he   
will experience humiliation2 and  this  
is perhaps the most painful feeling with
 which a man can be  afflicted4    ,yet 
there are two sides to everything4 ,the 
man who has insufficient                
self-confidence in a sphere where he has
 little power1 and is never  ready to   
make a venture1 will on the one hand not
 even learn how to  use the little power
 that he has2 and on the other1 in a    
sphere in  which he would at least be   
able to achieve something1 there will be
  a complete absence of effort1 and     
consequently of pleasure4 ,this is      

always hard to bear2 for a man can never
 draw a complete blank in any           
department of human welfare without     
feeling some pain4           99       99
       99       99       99    ,as a    
child1 one has no conception of the     
inexorable character of the  laws of    
nature1 and of the stubborn way in which
 everything persists  in remaining what 
it is4 ,the child believes that even    
lifeless things  are disposed to yield  
to it2 perhaps because it feels itself  
one with  nature1 or1 from mere         
unacquaintance with the world1 believes 
that  nature is disposed to be friendly4
 ,thus it was that when ,i was a  child1
 and had thrown my shoe into a large    
vessel full of milk1 ,i was  discovered 
entreating the shoe to jump out4 ,nor is
 a child on its  guard against animals  
until it learns that they are           
ill-natured and  spiteful4 ,but not     
before we have gained mature experience 
do we  recognise that human character is
 unalterable2 that no entreaty1 or      

representation1 or example1 or benefit1 
will bring a man to give up  his ways2  
but that1 on the contrary1 every man is 
compelled to follow  his own mode of    
acting and thinking1 with the necessity 
of a law of  nature2 and that1 however  
we take him1 he always remains the same4
 ,it  is only after we have obtained a  
clear and profound knowledge of this    
fact that we give up trying to persuade 
people1 or to alter them  and bring them
 round to our way of thinking4 ,we try  
to accommodate  ourselves to theirs     
instead1 so far as they are             
indispensable to us1  and to keep away  
from them so far as we cannot possibly  
agree4    ,ultimately we come to        
perceive that even in matters of mere   
intellect--although its laws are the    
same for all1 and the subject  as       
opposed to the object of thought does   
not really enter into                   
individuality--there is1 nevertheless1  
no certainty that the whole  truth of   
any matter can be communicated to any   

one1 or that any one  can be persuaded  
or compelled to assent to it2 because1  
as ,bacon says1  intellectus humanus    
luminis sicci non est3 the light of the 
human  intellect is coloured by interest
 and passion4           99       99     
99       99       99    ,it is just     
because all happiness is of a negative  
character that1  when we succeed in     
being perfectly at our ease1 we are not 
properly  conscious of it4 ,everything  
seems to pass us softly and gently1 and 
hardly to touch us until the moment is  
over2 and then it is the  positive      
feeling of something lacking that tells 
us of the happiness  which has vanished2
 it is then that we observe that we have
 failed to  hold it fast1 and we suffer 
the pangs of self-reproach as well as of
  privation4           99       99      
99       99       99    ,every happiness
 that a man enjoys1 and almost every    
friendship that  he cherishes1 rest upon
 illusion2 for1 as a rule1 with increase
 of  knowledge they are bound to vanish4

 ,nevertheless1 here as elsewhere1 a    
man should courageously pursue truth1   
and never weary of striving to  settle  
accounts with himself and the world4 ,no
 matter what happens to  the right or to
 the left of him1--be it a chimaera or  
fancy that makes  him happy1 let him    
take heart and go on1 with no fear of   
the desert  which widens to his view4   
,of one thing only must he be quite     
certain3  that under no circumstances   
will he discover any lack of worth in   
himself when the veil is raised2 the    
sight of it would be the ,gorgon  that  
would kill him4 ,therefore1 if he wants 
to remain undeceived1 let  him in his   
inmost being feel his own worth4 ,for to
 feel the lack of  it is not merely the 
greatest1 but also the only true        
affliction2  all other sufferings of the
 mind may not only be healed1 but may be
  immediately relieved1 by the secure   
consciousness of worth4 ,the man  who is
 assured of it can sit down quietly     
under sufferings that would  otherwise  

bring him to despair2 and though he has 
no pleasures1 no  joys and no friends1  
he can rest in and on himself2 so       
powerful is the  comfort to be derived  
from a vivid consciousness of this      
advantage2 a  comfort to be preferred to
 every other earthly blessing4          
,contrarily1  nothing in the world can  
relieve a man who knows his own         
worthlessness2 all that he can do is to 
conceal it by deceiving people  or      
deafening them with his noise2 but      
neither expedient will serve him  very  
long4           99       99       99    
99       99    ,we must always try to   
preserve large views4 ,if we are        
arrested by  details we shall get       
confused1 and see things awry4 ,the     
success or the  failure of the moment1  
and the impression that they make1      
should count  for nothing4#a            
,footnote #a3 ,translator's             
,note4--,schopenhauer1 for some reason  
that  is not apparent1 wrote this remark
 in ,french4           99       99      

99       99       99    ,how difficult  
it is to learn to understand oneself1   
and clearly to  recognise what it is    
that one wants before anything else2    
what it is1  therefore1 that is most    
immediately necessary to our happiness2 
then  what comes next2 and what takes   
the third and the fourth place1 and so  
on4    ,yet1 without this knowledge1 our
 life is planless1 like a captain       
without a compass4           99       99
       99       99       99    ,the     
sublime melancholy which leads us to    
cherish a lively conviction  of the     
worthlessness of everything of all      
pleasures and of all  mankind1 and      
therefore to long for nothing1 but to   
feel that life is  merely a burden which
 must be borne to an end that cannot be 
very  distant1 is a much happier state  
of mind than any condition of desire1   
which1 be it never so cheerful1 would   
have us place a value on the  illusions 
of the world1 and strive to attain them4
    ,this is a fact which we learn from 

experience2 and it is clear1   priori1  
that one of these is a condition of     
illusion1 and the other  of knowledge4  
,whether it is better to marry or not to
 marry is a question which in  very many
 cases amounts to this3 ,are the cares  
of love more endurable  than the        
anxieties of a livelihood8           99 
99       99       99       99           
,marriage is a trap which nature sets   
for us4 #a    ,footnote #a3             
,translator's ,note4--,also in ,french4 
99       99       99       99       99  
,poets and philosophers who are married 
men incur by that very fact the         
suspicion that they are looking to their
 own welfare1 and not to the  interests 
of science and art4           99        
99       99       99       99    ,habit 
is everything4 ,hence to be calm and    
unruffled is merely to  anticipate a    
habit2 and it is a great advantage not  
to need to form  it4           99       
99       99       99       99           
,personality is the element of the      

greatest happiness4 ,since pain  and    
boredom are the two chief enemies of    
human happiness1 nature has  provided   
our personality with a protection       
against both4 ,we can  ward off pain1   
which is more often of the mind than of 
the body1 by  cheerfulness2 and boredom 
by intelligence4 ,but neither of these  
is akin to the other2 nay1 in any high  
degree they are perhaps  incompatible4  
,as ,aristotle remarks1 genius is allied
 to melancholy2  and people of very     
cheerful disposition are only           
intelligent on the  surface4 ,the       
better1 therefore1 anyone is by nature  
armed against one  of these evils1 the  
worse1 as a rule1 is he armed against   
the other4    ,there is no human life   
that is free from pain and boredom2 and 
it is a  special favour on the part of  
fate if a man is chiefly exposed to the 
evil against which nature has armed him 
the better2 if fate1 that is1  sends a  
great deal of pain where there is a very
 cheerful temper in  which to bear it1  

and much leisure where there is much    
intelligence1  but not vice vers4 ,for  
if a man is intelligent1 he feels pain  
doubly or trebly2 and a cheerful but    
unintellectual temper finds  solitude   
and unoccupied leisure altogether       
unendurable4           99       99      
99       99       99    ,in the sphere  
of thought1 absurdity and perversity    
remain the masters  of this world1 and  
their dominion is suspended only for    
brief periods4  ,nor is it otherwise in 
art2 for there genuine work1 seldom     
found  and still more seldom            
appreciated1 is again and again driven  
out by  dullness1 insipidity1 and       
affectation4    ,it is just the same in 
the sphere of action4 ,most men1 says   
,bias1 are  bad4 ,virtue is a stranger  
in this world2 and boundless egoism1    
cunning  and malice1 are always the     
order of the day4 ,it is wrong to       
deceive  the young on this point1 for it
 will only make them feel later on that 
their teachers were the first to deceive

 them4 ,if the object is  to render the 
pupil a better man by telling him that  
others are  excellent1 it fails2 and it 
would be more to the purpose to say3    
,most  men are bad1 it is for you to be 
better4 ,in this way he would1 at       
least1 be sent out into the world armed 
with a shrewd foresight1  instead of    
having to be convinced by bitter        
experience that his  teachers were      
wrong4    ,all ignorance is dangerous1  
and most errors must be dearly paid4    
,and  good luck must he have that       
carries unchastised an error in his head
  unto his death4#a    ,footnote #a3    
,translator's ,note4--,this1 again1 is  
,schopenhauer's own  ,english4          
99       99       99       99       99  
,every piece of success has a doubly    
beneficial effect upon us when1  apart  
from the special and material advantage 
which it brings it is  accompanied by   
the enlivening assurance that the world1
 fate1 or the  daemon within1 does not  
mean so badly with us1 nor is so opposed

 to  our prosperity as we had fancied2  
when1 in fine1 it restores our  courage 
to live4    ,similarly1 every misfortune
 or defeat has1 in the contrary sense1  
an  effect that is doubly depressing4   
99       99       99       99       99  
,if we were not all of us exaggeratedly 
interested in ourselves1 life  would be 
so uninteresting that no one could      
endure it4           99       99        
99       99       99    ,everywhere in  
the world1 and under all circumstances1 
it is only by  force that anything can  
be done2 but power is mostly in bad     
hands1  because baseness is everywhere  
in a fearful majority4           99     
99       99       99       99    ,why   
should it be folly to be always intent  
on getting the greatest  possible       
enjoyment out of the moment1 which is   
our only sure  possession8 ,our whole   
life is no more than a magnified        
present1 and in  itself as fleeting4    
99       99       99       99       99  
,as a consequence of his individuality  

and the position in which he  is placed1
 everyone without exception lives in a  
certain state of  limitation1 both as   
regards his ideas and the opinions which
 he forms4  ,another man is also        
limited1 though not in the same way2 but
 should  he succeed in comprehending the
 other's limitation he can confuse  and 
abash him1 and put him to shame1 by     
making him feel what his  limitation is1
 even though the other be far and away  
his superior4  ,shrewd people often     
employ this circumstance to obtain a    
false and  momentary advantage4         
99       99       99       99       99  
,the only genuine superiority is that of
 the mind and character2 all  other     
kinds are fictitious1 affected1 false2  
and it is good to  make them feel that  
it is so when they try to show off      
before the  superiority that is true4#a 
,footnote #a3 ,translator's ,note4--,in 
the original this also is in  ,french4  
99       99       99       99       99  
,all the world's a stage1    ,and all   

the men and women merely players4       
,exactly6 ,independently of what a man  
really is in himself1 he has  a part to 
play1 which fate has imposed upon him   
from without1 by  determining his rank1 
education1 and circumstances4 ,the most 
immediate  application of this truth    
appears to me to be that in life1 as on 
the stage1 we must distinguish between  
the actor and his part2  distinguish1   
that is1 the man in himself from his    
position and  reputation--- from the    
part which rank and circumstances have  
imposed  upon him4 ,how often it is that
 the worst actor plays the king1 and the
  best the beggar6 ,this may happen in  
life1 too2 and a man must be very  crude
 to confuse the actor with his part4    
99       99       99       99       99  
,our life is so poor that none of the   
treasures of the world can make  it     
rich2 for the sources of enjoyment are  
soon found to be all very  scanty1 and  
it is in vain that we look for one that 
will always flow4  ,therefore1 as       

regards our own welfare1 there are only 
two ways in  which we can use wealth4   
,we can either spend it in ostentatious 
pomp1  and feed on the cheap respect    
which our imaginary glory will bring us 
from the infatuated crowd2 or1 by       
avoiding all expenditure that will  do  
us no good1 we can let our wealth grow1 
so that we may have a  bulwark against  
misfortune and want that shall be       
stronger and better  every day2 in view 
of the fact that life1 though it has few
 delights1  is rich in evils4           
99       99       99       99       99  
,it is just because our real and inmost 
being is will that it is only  by its   
exercise that we can attain a vivid     
consciousness of existence1  although   
this is almost always attended by pain4 
,hence it is that  existence is         
essentially painful1 and that many      
persons for whose  wants full provision 
is made arrange their day in accordance 
with  extremely regular1 monotonous1 and
 definite habits4 ,by this means they   

avoid all the pain which the movement of
 the will produces2 but1 on  the other  
hand1 their whole existence becomes a   
series of scenes and  pictures that mean
 nothing4 ,they are hardly aware that   
they exist4  ,nevertheless1 it is the   
best way of settling accounts with life1
 so  long as there is sufficient change 
to prevent an excessive feeling of      
boredom4 ,it is much better still if the
 ,muses give a man some worthy          
occupation1 so that the pictures which  
fill his consciousness have  some       
meaning1 and yet not a meaning that can 
be brought into any  relation with his  
will4           99       99       99    
99       99    ,a man is wise only on   
condition of living in a world full of  
fools4          ,,genius ,,and ,,virtue4
      ,when ,i think1 it is the spirit  
of the world which is striving to       
express its thought2 it is nature which 
is trying to know and fathom  itself4   
,it is not the thoughts of some other   
mind1 which ,i am  endeavouring to      

trace2 but it is ,i who transform that  
which exists  into something which is   
known and thought1 and would otherwise  
neither  come into being nor continue in
 it4    ,in the realm of physics it was 
held for thousands of years to be a     
fact beyond question that water was a   
simple and consequently an  original    
element4 ,in the same way in the realm  
of metaphysics it  was held for a still 
longer period that the ego was a simple 
and  consequently an indestructible     
entity4 ,i have shown1 however1 that it 
is composed of two heterogeneous parts1 
namely1 the ,will1 which is             
metaphysical in its character1 a thing  
in itself1 and the knowing  subject1    
which is physical and a mere phenomenon4
    ,let me illustrate what ,i mean4    
,take any large1 massive1 heavy         
building3 this hard1 ponderous body that
 fills so much space exists1  ,i tell   
you1 only in the soft pulp of the brain4
 ,there alone1 in the  human brain1 has 
it any being4 ,unless you understand    

this1 you can go  no further4    ,truly 
it is the world itself that is a        
miracle2 the world of material  bodies4 
,i looked at two of them4 ,both were    
heavy1 symmetrical1 and  beautiful4 ,one
 was a jasper vase with golden rim and  
golden handles2  the other was an       
organism1 an animal1 a man4 ,when ,i had
 sufficiently  admired their exterior1  
,i asked my attendant genius to allow me
 to  examine the inside of them2 and ,i 
did so4 ,in the vase ,i found nothing   
but the force of gravity and a certain  
obscure desire1 which took the  form of 
chemical affinity4 ,but when ,i entered 
into the other--how  shall ,i express my
 astonishment at what ,i saw8 ,it is    
more incredible  than all the fairy     
tales and fables that were ever         
conceived4  ,nevertheless1 ,i shall try 
to describe it1 even at the risk of     
finding  no credence for my tale4    ,in
 this second thing1 or rather in the    
upper end of it1 called the  head1 which
 on its exterior side looks like        

anything else--a body in  space1 heavy1 
and so on--,i found no less an object   
than the whole  world itself1 together  
with the whole of the space in which all
 of  it exists1 and the whole of the    
time in which all of it moves1  and     
finally everything that fills both time 
and space in all its  variegated and    
infinite character2 nay1 strangest sight
 of all1 ,i  found myself walking about 
in it6 ,it was no picture that ,i saw2  
it was  no peep-show1 but reality       
itself4 ,this it is that is really and  
truly  to be found in a thing which is  
no bigger than a cabbage1 and which1  on
 occasion1 an executioner might strike  
off at a blow1 and suddenly  smother    
that world in darkness and night4 ,the  
world1 ,i say1 would  vanish1 did not   
heads grow like mushrooms1 and were     
there not always  plenty of them ready  
to snatch it up as it is sinking down   
into  nothing1 and keep it going like a 
ball4 ,this world is an idea which  they
 all have in common1 and they express   

the community of their  thought by the  
word objectivity4    ,in the face of    
this vision ,i felt as if ,i were       
,ardschuna when ,krishna  appeared to   
him in his true majesty1 with his       
hundred thousand arms  and eyes and     
mouths4    ,when ,i see a wide          
landscape1 and realise that it arises by
 the  operation of the functions of my  
brain1 that is to say1 of time1  space1 
and casuality1 on certain spots which   
have gathered on my  retina1 ,i feel    
that ,i carry it within me4 ,i have an  
extraordinarily  clear consciousness of 
the identity of my own being with that  
of the  external world4    ,nothing     
provides so vivid an illustration of    
this identity as a  dream4 ,for in a    
dream other people appear to be totally 
distinct  from us1 and to possess the   
most perfect objectivity1 and a nature  
which is quite different from ours1 and 
which often puzzles1  surprises1        
astonishes1 or terrifies us2 and yet it 
is all our own  self4 ,it is even so    

with the will1 which sustains the whole 
of the  external world and gives it     
life2 it is the same will that is in    
ourselves1 and it is there alone that we
 are immediately conscious of  it4 ,but 
it is the intellect1 in ourselves and in
 others1 which makes  all these miracles
 possible2 for it is the intellect which
 everywhere  divides actual being into  
subject and object2 it is a hall of     
phantasmagorical mystery1 inexpressibly 
marvellous1 incomparably  magical4      
,the difference in degree of mental     
power which sets so wide a gulf  between
 the genius and the ordinary mortal     
rests1 it is true1 upon  nothing else   
than a more or less perfect development 
of the cerebral  system4 ,but it is this
 very difference which is so important1 
because  the whole of the real world in 
which we live and move possesses an     
existence only in relation to this      
cerebral system4 ,accordingly1 the      
difference between a genius and an      
ordinary man is a total diversity  of   

world and existence4 ,the difference    
between man and the lower  animals may  
be similarly explained4    ,when ,momus 
was said to ask for a window in the     
breast1 it was an  allegorical joke1 and
 we cannot even imagine such a          
contrivance to  be a possibility2 but it
 would be quite possible to imagine that
 the  skull and its integuments were    
transparent1 and then1 good heavens6    
what differences should we see in the   
size1 the form1 the quality1  the       
movement of the brain6 what degrees of  
value6 ,a great mind would  inspire as  
much respect at first sight as three    
stars on a man's  breast1 and what a    
miserable figure would be cut by many a 
one who  wore them6    ,men of genius   
and intellect1 and all those whose      
mental and  theoretical qualities are   
far more developed than their moral  and
 practical qualities--men1 in a word1   
who have more mind than  character--are 
often not only awkward and ridiculous in
 matters of  daily life1 as has been    

observed by ,plato in the seventh book  
of the  ,republic1 and portrayed by     
,goethe in his ,tasso2 but they are     
often1 from a moral point of view1 weak 
and contemptible creatures as  well2    
nay1 they might almost be called bad    
men4 ,of this ,rousseau has  given us   
genuine examples4 ,nevertheless1 that   
better consciousness  which is the      
source of all virtue is often stronger  
in them than in  many of those whose    
actions are nobler than their thoughts2 
nay1 it  may be said that those who     
think nobly have a better acquaintance  
with  virtue1 while the others make a   
better practice of it4 ,full of zeal    
for the good and for the beautiful1 they
 would fain fly up to heaven  in a      
straight line2 but the grosser elements 
of this earth oppose  their flight1 and 
they sink back again4 ,they are like    
born artists1  who have no knowledge of 
technique1 or find that the marble is   
too  hard for their fingers4 ,many a man
 who has much less enthusiasm for  the  

good1 and a far shallower acquaintance  
with its depths1 makes a  better thing  
of it in practice2 he looks down upon   
the noble thinkers  with contempt1 and  
he has a right to do it2 nevertheless1  
he does not  understand them1 and they  
despise him in their turn1 and not      
unjustly4  ,they are to blame2 for every
 living man has1 by the fact of his     
living1 signed the conditions of life2  
but they are still more to be  pitied4  
,they achieve their redemption1 not on  
the way of virtue1 but  on a path of    
their own2 and they are saved1 not by   
works1 but by  faith4    ,men of no     
genius whatever cannot bear solitude3   
they take no pleasure  in the           
contemplation of nature and the world4  
,this arises from the  fact that they   
never lose sight of their own will1 and 
therefore  they see nothing of the      
objects of the world but the bearing of 
such  objects upon their will and       
person4 ,with objects which have no such
  bearing there sounds within them a    

constant note3 ,it is nothing to  me1   
which is the fundamental base in all    
their music4 ,thus all things  seem to  
them to wear a bleak1 gloomy1 strange1  
hostile aspect4 ,it is  only for their  
will that they seem to have any         
perceptive faculties at  all2 and it is1
 in fact1 only a moral and not a        
theoretical tendency1  only a moral and 
not an intellectual value1 that their   
life possesses4  ,the lower animals bend
 their heads to the ground1 because all 
that  they want to see is what touches  
their welfare1 and they can never  come 
to contemplate things from a really     
objective point of view4 ,it  is very   
seldom that unintellectual men make a   
true use of their erect  position1 and  
then it is only when they are moved by  
some intellectual  influence outside    
them4    ,the man of intellect or       
genius1 on the other hand1 has more of  
the  character of the eternal subject   
that knows1 than of the finite  subject 
that wills2 his knowledge is not quite  

engrossed and  captivated by his will1  
but passes beyond it2 he is the son1 not
 of  the bondwoman1 but of the free4 ,it
 is not only a moral but also  a        
theoretical tendency that is evinced in 
his life2 nay1 it might  perhaps be said
 that to a certain extent he is beyond  
morality4 ,of  great villainy he is     
totally incapable2 and his conscience is
 less  oppressed by ordinary sin than   
the conscience of the ordinary man1     
because life1 as it were1 is a game1 and
 he sees through it4    ,the relation   
between genius and virtue is determined 
by the  following considerations4 ,vice 
is an impulse of the will so violent  in
 its demands that it affirms its own    
life by denying the life of  others4    
,the only kind of knowledge that is     
useful to the will is the  knowledge    
that a given effect is produced by a    
certain cause4 ,genius  itself is a kind
 of knowledge1 namely1 of ideas2 and it 
is a knowledge  which is unconcerned    
with any principle of causation4 ,the   

man who is  devoted to knowledge of this
 character is not employed in the       
business  of the will4 ,nay1 every man  
who is devoted to the purely objective  
contemplation of the world 7and it is   
this that is meant by the  knowledge of 
ideas7 completely loses sight of his    
will and its  objects1 and pays no      
further regard to the interests of his  
own  person1 but becomes a pure         
intelligence free of any admixture of   
will4    ,where1 then1 devotion to the  
intellect predominates over concern for 
the will and its objects1 it shows that 
the man's will is not the  principal    
element in his being1 but that in       
proportion to his  intelligence it is   
weak4 ,violent desire1 which is the root
 of all  vice1 never allows a man to    
arrive at the pure and disinterested    
contemplation of the world1 free from   
any relation to the will1 such  as      
constitutes the quality of genius2 but  
here the intelligence  remains the      
constant slave of the will4    ,since   

genius consists in the perception of    
ideas1 and men of genius  contemplate   
their object1 it may be said that it is 
only the eye  which is any real evidence
 of genius4 ,for the contemplative gaze 
has  something steady and vivid about   
it2 and with the eye of genius it is    
often the case1 as with ,goethe1 that   
the white membrane over the pupil  is   
visible4 ,with violent1 passionate men  
the same thing may also  happen1 but it 
arises from a different cause1 and may  
be easily  distinguished by the fact    
that the eyes roll4 ,men of no genius at
 all  have no interest in the idea      
expressed by an object1 but only in the 
relations in which that object stands to
 others1 and finally to their  own      
person4 ,thus it is that they never     
indulge in contemplation1 or  are soon  
done with it1 and rarely fix their eyes 
long upon any  object2 and so their eyes
 do not wear the mark of genius which ,i
 have  described4 ,nay1 the regular     
,philistine does the direct opposite of 

contemplating--he spies4 ,if he looks at
 anything it is to pry into  it2 as may 
be specially observed when he screws up 
his eyes1 which he  frequently does1 in 
order to see the clearer4 ,certainly1 no
 real man  of genius ever does this1 at 
least habitually1 even though he is     
short-sighted4    ,what ,i have said    
will sufficiently illustrate the        
conflict between  genius and vice4 ,it  
may be1 however1 nay1 it is often the   
case1 that  genius is attended by a     
strong will2 and as little as men of    
genius  were ever consummate rascals1   
were they ever perhaps perfect saints   
either4    ,let me explain4 ,virtue is  
not exactly a positive weakness of the  
will2  it is1 rather1 an intentional    
restraint imposed upon its violence     
through a knowledge of it in its inmost 
being as manifested in the  world4 ,this
 knowledge of the world1 the inmost     
being of which is  communicable only in 
ideas1 is common both to the genius and 
to the  saint4 ,the distinction between 

the two is that the genius reveals his  
knowledge by rendering it in some form  
of his own choice1 and the  product is  
,art4 ,for this the saint1 as such1     
possesses no direct  faculty2 he makes  
an immediate application of his         
knowledge to his own  will1 which is    
thus led into a denial of the world4    
,with the saint  knowledge is only a    
means to an end1 whereas the genius     
remains at  the stage of knowledge1 and 
has his pleasure in it1 and reveals it  
by  rendering what he knows in his art4 
,in the hierarchy of physical           
organisation1 strength of will is       
attended by a corresponding growth in   
the intelligent faculties4 ,a  high     
degree of knowledge1 such as exists in  
the genius1 presupposes a  powerful     
will1 though1 at the same time1 a will  
that is subordinate  to the intellect4  
,in other words1 both the intellect and 
the will  are strong1 but the intellect 
is the stronger of the two4 ,unless1 as 
happens in the case of the saint1 the   

intellect is at once applied to  the    
will1 or1 as in the case of the artist1 
it finds its pleasures in  a            
reproduction of itself1 the will remains
 untamed4 ,any strength that  it may    
lose is due to the predominance of pure 
objective intelligence  which is        
concerned with the contemplation of     
ideas1 and is not1 as  in the case of   
the common or the bad man1 wholly       
occupied with the  objects of the will4 
,in the interval1 when the genius is no 
longer  engaged in the contemplation of 
ideas1 and his intelligence is again    
applied to the will and its objects1 the
 will is re-awakened in all  its        
strength4 ,thus it is that men of genius
 often have very violent  desires1 and  
are addicted to sensual pleasure and to 
anger4 ,great  crimes1 however1 they do 
not commit2 because1 when the           
opportunity of  them offers1 they       
recognise their idea1 and see it very   
vividly and  clearly4 ,their            
intelligence is thus directed to the    

idea1 and so gains  the predominance    
over the will1 and turns its course1 as 
with the  saint2 and the crime is       
uncommitted4    ,the genius1 then1      
always participates to some degree in   
the  characteristics of the saint1 as he
 is a man of the same  qualification2   
and1 contrarily1 the saint always       
participates to some  degree in the     
characteristics of the genius4    ,the  
good-natured character1 which is common1
 is to be distinguished  from the       
saintly by the fact that it consists in 
a weakness of will1  with a somewhat    
less marked weakness of intellect4 ,a   
lower degree of  the knowledge of the   
world as revealed in ideas here suffices
 to check  and control a will that is   
weak in itself4 ,genius and sanctity are
  far removed from good-nature1 which is
 essentially weak in all its            
manifestations4    ,apart from all that 
,i have said1 so much at least is clear4
 ,what  appears under the forms of time1
 space1 and casuality1 and vanishes     

again1 and in reality is nothing1 and   
reveals its nothingness by  death--this 
vicious and fatal appearance is the     
will4 ,but what does  not appear1 and is
 no phenomenon1 but rather the noumenon2
 what  makes appearance possible2 what  
is not subject to the principle of      
causation1 and therefore has no vain or 
vanishing existence1 but  abides for    
ever unchanged in the midst of a world  
full of suffering1  like a ray of light 
in a storm1--free1 therefore1 from all  
pain and  fatality1--this1 ,i say1 is   
the intelligence4 ,the man who is more  
intelligence than will1 is thereby      
delivered1 in respect of the  greatest  
part of him1 from nothingness and death2
 and such a man is in  his nature a     
genius4    ,by the very fact that he    
lives and works1 the man who is endowed 
with genius makes an entire sacrifice of
 himself in the interests  of everyone4 
,accordingly1 he is free from the       
obligation to make a  particular        
sacrifice for individuals2 and thus he  

can refuse many  demands which others   
are rightly required to meet4 ,he       
suffers and  achieves more than all the 
others4    ,the spring which moves the  
genius to elaborate his works is not    
fame1  for that is too uncertain a      
quality1 and when it is seen at close   
quarters1 of little worth4 ,no amount of
 fame will make up for the  labour of   
attaining it3      ,nulla est fama tuum 
par oequiparare laborem4    ,nor is it  
the delight that a man has in his work2 
for that too is  outweighed by the      
effort which he has to make4 ,it is1    
rather1 an  instinct sui generis2 in    
virtue of which the genius is driven to 
express what he sees and feels in some  
permanent shape1 without being          
conscious of any further motive4    ,it 
is manifest that in so far as it leads  
an individual to sacrifice  himself for 
his species1 and to live more in the    
species than in  himself1 this impulse  
is possessed of a certain resemblance   
with  such modifications of the sexual  

impulse as are peculiar to man4 ,the    
modifications to which ,i refer are     
those that confine this impulse to      
certain individuals of the other sex1   
whereby the interests of the  species   
are attained4 ,the individuals who are  
actively affected by  this impulse may  
be said to sacrifice themselves for the 
species1  by their passion for each     
other1 and the disadvantageous          
conditions  thereby imposed upon        
them1--in a word1 by the institution of 
marriage4  ,they may be said to be      
serving the interests of the species    
rather  than the interests of the       
individual4    ,the instinct of the     
genius does1 in a higher fashion1 for   
the idea1  what passionate love does for
 the will4 ,in both cases there are     
peculiar pleasures and peculiar pains   
reserved for the individuals who  in    
this way serve the interests of the     
species2 and they live in a  state of   
enhanced power4    ,the genius who      
decides once for all to live for the    

interests of the  species in the way    
which he chooses is neither fitted nor  
called upon  to do it in the other4 ,it 
is a curious fact that the perpetuation 
of a  man's name is effected in both    
ways4    ,in music the finest           
compositions are the most difficult to  
understand4  ,they are only for the     
trained intelligence4 ,they consist of  
long  movements1 where it is only after 
a labyrinthine maze that the            
fundamental note is recovered4 ,it is   
just so with genius2 it is only  after a
 course of struggle1 and doubt1 and     
error1 and much reflection  and         
vacillation1 that great minds attain    
their equilibrium4 ,it is the  longest  
pendulum that makes the greatest swing4 
,little minds soon come  to terms with  
themselves and the world1 and then      
fossilise2 but the  others flourish1 and
 are always alive and in motion4    ,the
 essence of genius is a measure of      
intellectual power far beyond  that     
which is required to serve the          

individual's will4 ,but it is a  measure
 of a merely relative character1 and it 
may be reached by  lowering the degree  
of the will1 as well as by raising that 
of the  intellect4 ,there are men whose 
intellect predominates over their  will1
 and are yet not possessed of genius in 
any proper sense4 ,their  intellectual  
powers do1 indeed1 exceed the ordinary1 
though not to any  great extent1 but    
their will is weak4 ,they have no       
violent desires2  and therefore they are
 more concerned with mere knowledge than
 with  the satisfaction of any aims4    
,such men possess talent2 they are      
intelligent1 and at the same time very  
contented and cheerful4    ,a clear1    
cheerful and reasonable mind1 such as   
brings a man happiness1  is dependent on
 the relation established between his   
intellect and his  will--a relation in  
which the intellect is predominant4 ,but
 genius and  a great mind depend on the 
relation between a man's intellect and  
that  of other people--a relation in    

which his intellect must exceed theirs1 
and at the same time his will may also  
be proportionately stronger4  ,that is  
the reason why genius and happiness need
 not necessarily exist  together4       
,when the individual is distraught by   
cares or pleasantry1 or tortured  by the
 violence of his wishes and desires1 the
 genius in him is  enchained and cannot 
move4 ,it is only when care and desire  
are silent  that the air is free enough 
for genius to live in it4 ,it is then   
that  the bonds of matter are cast      
aside1 and the pure spirit--the pure1   
knowing subject--remains4 ,hence1 if a  
man has any genius1 let him  guard      
himself from pain1 keep care at a       
distance1 and limit his  desires2 but   
those of them which he cannot suppress  
let him satisfy to  the full4 ,this is  
the only way in which he will make the  
best use of  his rare existence1 to his 
own pleasure and the world's profit4    
,to fight with need and care or desires1
 the satisfaction of which is  refused  

and forbidden1 is good enough work for  
those who1 were  they free of would have
 to fight with boredom1 and so take to  
bad  practices2 but not for the man     
whose time1 if well used1 will bear     
fruit for centuries to come4 ,as        
,diderot says1 he is not merely a moral 
being4    ,mechanical laws do not apply 
in the sphere of chemistry1 nor do      
chemical laws in the sphere in which    
organic life is kindled4 ,in the  same  
way1 the rules which avail for ordinary 
men will not do for the  exceptions1 nor
 will their pleasures either4    ,it is 
a persistent1 uninterrupted activity    
that constitutes the  superior mind4    
,the object to which this activity is   
directed is a  matter of subordinate    
importance2 it has no essential bearing 
on the  superiority in question1 but    
only on the individual who possesses it4
  ,all that education can do is to      
determine the direction which this      
activity shall take2 and that is the    
reason why a man's nature is so  much   

more important than his education4 ,for 
education is to natural  faculty what a 
wax nose is to a real one2 or what the  
moon and the  planets are to the sun4   
,in virtue of his education a man says1 
not  what he thinks himself1 but what   
others have thought and he has  learned 
as a matter of training2 and what he    
does is not what he  wants1 but what he 
has been accustomed to do4    ,the lower
 animals perform many intelligent       
functions much better than  man2 for    
instance1 the finding of their way back 
to the place from  which they came1 the 
recognition of individuals1 and so on4  
,in the  same way1 there are many       
occasions in real life to which the     
genius is  incomparably less equal and  
fitted than the ordinary man4 ,nay more3
  just as animals never commit a folly  
in the strict sense of the word1  so the
 average man is not exposed to folly in 
the same degree as the  genius4    ,the 
average man is wholly relegated to the  
sphere of being2 the  genius1 on the    

other hand1 lives and moves chiefly in  
the sphere of  knowledge4 ,this gives   
rise to a twofold distinction4 ,in the  
first  place1 a man can be one thing    
only1 but he may know countless  things1
 and thereby1 to some extent1 identify  
himself with them1 by  participating in 
what ,spinoza calls their esse          
objectivum4 ,in the  second place1 the  
world1 as ,i have elsewhere observed1 is
 fine enough  in appearance1 but in     
reality dreadful2 for torment is the    
condition  of all life4    ,it follows  
from the first of these distinctions    
that the life of the  average man is    
essentially one of the greatest boredom2
 and thus we  see the rich warring      
against boredom with as much effort and 
as little  respite as fall to the poor  
in their struggle with need and         
adversity4  ,and from the second of them
 it follows that the life of the average
  man is overspread with a dull1 turbid1
 uniform gravity2 whilst the  brow of   
genius glows with mirth of a unique     

character1 which1 although  he has      
sorrows of his own more poignant than   
those of the average man1  nevertheless 
breaks out afresh1 like the sun through 
clouds4 ,it is  when the genius is      
overtaken by an affliction which affects
 others as  well as himself1 that this  
quality in him is most in evidence2 for 
then he is seen to be like man1 who     
alone can laugh1 in comparison  with the
 beast of the field1 which lives out its
 life grave and dull4    ,it is the     
curse of the genius that in the same    
measure in which others  think him great
 and worthy of admiration1 he thinks    
them small and  miserable creatures4    
,his whole life long he has to suppress 
this  opinion2 and1 as a rule1 they     
suppress theirs as well4 ,meanwhile1 he 
is condemned to live in a bleak world1  
where he meets no equal1 as it  were an 
island where there are no inhabitants   
but monkeys and parrots4  ,moreover1 he 
is always troubled by the illusion that 
from a distance a  monkey looks like a  

man4    ,vulgar people take a huge      
delight in the faults and follies of    
great  men2 and great men are equally   
annoyed at being thus reminded of their 
kinship with them4    ,the real dignity 
of a man of genius or great intellect1  
the trait  which raises him over others 
and makes him worthy of respect1 is at  
bottom the fact1 that the only unsullied
 and innocent part of human  nature1    
namely1 the intellect1 has the upper    
hand in him8 and  prevails2 whereas1 in 
the other there is nothing but sinful   
will1  and just as much intellect as is 
requisite for guiding his steps1---     
rarely any more1 very often somewhat    
less1--and of what use is it8    ,it    
seems to me that genius might have its  
root in a certain perfection  and       
vividness of the memory as it stretches 
back over the events of  past life4 ,for
 it is only by dint of memory1 which    
makes our life in  the strict sense a   
complete whole1 that we attain a more   
profound and  comprehensive             

understanding of it4