t

119971

"Dr. Turck in his excellent work 'Tftft,

LTOWIG BircHOTR, in Internationale, Ltofrtourt&'v&te? *

"The whole character of the general lectures inDr. IJujyfc^ book must be
described as that of a polemic for idealism and against JfcSfcigr Kind of egoism,.
Hence the inner warmth in the work, for Tiirck is deTOlaTto* the matter in
hand with all his mind and soul, and it is as if he had himself in his own men-
tal life passed through all that he presents. Tiirck himself sees in his book
only sketches that require further amplification, he desired to give only
outlines, but he proves himself familiar with what is essential. We may
point, for instance, to the manner in which he utilises the conception of
play, of freedom, both in general and in particular. It is exactly this
undivided connection of the whole that constitutes the charm and the
suggestive value of the book" Professor Dt. KICHABDMABIAWEENEB, in
Jdhresberickte fur neuere devtsche Literaturgeschichte.

"One of the most interesting thinkers of the younger generation has
hitherto made the problem of genius the chief subject of his scientific
studies. His exceedingly clever and captivating book owes its origin to
a number of lectures. The essays on TSamleV on Goethe's TausV on
Byron's 'Manfred,' and especially also on Buddha and Christ stir not only
our intellectual interest, but also our minds by the subtle, warm and
ideal mode of presentation of their subjects. The reader will find his mind
ever more elevated by them." Dr. HELMUTS MEBLKB, in Barmer Zeitung.

"The convincing interpretations given by Dr. Tiirck of poems hitherto
insufficiently understood, the now apparently self-evident solutions of diffi-
cult character problems seem to be the less essential portions of his book.
The more essential are found rather in the simple yet imposing conception
of life that does equal justice to the ethical sensation and the realistic mode
of thinking of the modern mind." Dr. med. GAEL WEBNEB, in Magazin
fur Lti&ratur.

"In a comparatively short time the book has gone into a fifth edition
and it has well earned this conspicuous success. Like few others of recent
times it has emphatically promoted the extension of the doctrine of the
essence of genius. It has done so by a mode of exposition carefully rounded,
satisfactorily clear, lucid, and agreeable, so that the work is made accessible
to the understanding of every educated reader and affords him not only real
instruction, but also enjoyment." Dr. M. KBOIOOSTBEBG, mEtJiischeKuUur

"Dr. Turck's book deserves attention and careful appreciation; it may
be called one of the most 'interesting productions of modern sociological
literature." B. M., in Sozialistische Monatsfafte.

"Among the best portions of the book I count the study of Hamlet.
It is a very interesting fact that the author, as he declares, was inspired
with this very attractive and convincing solution of the problem by
Matthew 12, 46 sq." Pfarrer J.HANS, in Theologische Ltieraturzetiung, edited
by Professor Dr. E. SOHUEEB and Professor Dr- A. HABNACK.

"An honest fervour and a noble zeal pervade all the disquisitions in the
book. Df . Turck's total conception of the exalted subject is refreshingly sound
and unsophisticated, and his mode of exposition very subtle." Die Post.

"Dr. Turck's book belongs to those which, written with a genuine
love, afford instruct 4 ^i and permanent enjoyment to every reader."
Processor Dr. G. GAJ&JSTD, in Die Kunstlialk.

"Dr. Turok has the indisputable merit of having established his own
opinion on two important literary questions, namely, his conception of the
character of Hamlet and his explanation of Faust's blindness caused by
'Care.' The simple language that avoids all unnecessary technicalities, makes

.toa bopk, although if jbtetfts/of \$ie highest and weightiest human prob-
lems? intelligibly /a^'eiJc^bVidso to every non-professional reader.'*
DJ. K'DoNAEfes* in Berliner Tageblatt.

"In every* *4ii>8ct an important book. The more thoroughly I occu-
pied myself wi$^Efch of these interesting questions, the clearer and the
more comprehensible* the high mind and ideal striving of the author became
to me. Everywhere the high morality, the beauty, and the indescribable
idealism of the book affect the reader agreeably." Landtagsabgeordneter
A. BATOERT, in Erfurter Tribune.

"Dr. Tiirck's book has its roots in Goethe's view of the world, it ex-
hibits most brilliantly the problem of humanity as reflected in 'Faust,*
'Hamlet,' and 'Manfred,' and refutes energetically the antipodes of the
spirit of Goethe (Stirner, Nietzsche, Ibsen, and Lombroso). It is to be hoped
that the ' work may find its way into every rank of society." Professor
Dr. ALFRED BIESE, in SMeswger Nacfaricnten.

"The polemic against Lombroso belongs to the most valuable por-
tions of Dr. Tiirck's book." KARL v. THALER, in New Freie Presse.

"An extraordinary fluency of style and a noble simplicity of lan-
guage that avoids all unnecessary technical expressions, enable the reader
to follow without trouble the author's elucidations which combine the
perspicuous mode of thought of Schopenhauer with Hegel's dialectic
keenness." Dr. PR. JUNGKLATJS, in Neue Stettiner Zetiung.

"The twelve essays contain so much that is interesting, clever, and
profound, that the reading of this book is a real enjoyment, nay more, a
source of mental invigoration and absorption." NeueBadischeLandeszeitung.

"This work may be warmly recommended to every educated man, most
specially to every theologian. The book is pervaded by a noble spirit and
sentiment that affect me agreeably." Pastor PAUL GRATTE, in Protestantische
MonatsJiefte.

"Dr. Tiirck's book belongs to the few works of these later years, that
one must have read if one wishes to attain an independent judgment of
the intellectual currents of the present time." Professor Dr. ETOEK
WOLBT, in Hamburger Korrespondent.

"The reading affords a high intellectual enjoyment and is a stimulant
to serious thought on questions that are nowadays of far-reaching theoret-
ical and practical interest." Dr. med. P. K6HLER, in Die christliche WeU.

"In this book speaks the spirit of true humanity and a philosophy of
life that exhibits and elucidates, by the light of practical application, the deep
thoughts of our greatest philosophers." Kolnische Zetiung.

"The author knows how to present the result of his studies in a manner al-
ways interesting, and usually original, and always embodies them in a pleasing
and readable form. Dr. Tiirck belongs to the best armed champions against
Nietzsche and also against the erroneous doctrines of Lombroso." ALFR.
EMBKSI v. EJLAEBACH, in BeilagezwrAllgemeinen Zetiung inMunchen*

"Everything written by Dr. Tiirck is written from the mind of the
idealist, every paragraph brings a revelation producing a joyful surprise."
Hofrat Dr. ERIEDR. DUKMEYER, idem.

"The high and free standpoint chosen by the author enables him to open-
many a surprising outlook on the career of all these prominent figures,
and to give many a deep insight into their mental Me. Nay, even a new
light is cast on the activity of Christ, for instance on His relation towards
John the Baptist. Dr. Tiirck's book becomes instructive and valuable by
the fact that he succeeds in combining in a clever manner historical specu-
lation with aesthetic criticism. There are few occasions on which one
disagrees with him." Vossische Zeitung.

THE MAN OF GENIUS

AGENTS

AUSTRALASIA , THE OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
205 FLINDERS LAKE, MELBOURNE

CANADA THE MACKELLAN COMPANY OF CANADA, LTD.

27 RICHMOND STREET WEST, TORONTO

INDIA MACMILLAN & COMPANY, LTD,

MACMILLAN BUILDING, BOMBAY
809 Bow BAZAAR STREET, CALCUTTA

THE

MAN OF GENIUS

BY

HERMAN TtfRCK, PH.D.

A. & C. BLACK, LTD.
4, 5 & 6 SOHO SQUARE, LONDON, W. i

1923

First German Edition, published 1896.

Second German Edition, published iSgtf.

Third German Edition, revised and enlarged, 1898.

Fourth German Edition, revised and enlarged, J#p

Fifth German Edition, revised and enlarged, zyoi.

Sixth German Edition, revised, 1903.

Seventh German Edition, revised and enlarged f

First English Edition, published 1914.

Copyright, 1914, by

STILLERSCHE HOFBUCHHANDLUNG (J. A. STRHNGE)
Schwerin i. M.

CONTENTS

Page

1. ARTISTIC ENJOYMENT AND PRODUCTIVITY i

2. PHILOSOPHICAL ASPIRATION ...... 27

3. CONDUCT IN PRACTICAL LIFE 51

APPENDIX-. GOD AND THE WORLD 71

4. SHAKESPEARE'S CONCEPTION OF THE NATURE OF
GENIUS IN HAMLET 87

5. GOETHES SELF-EEPRESENTATION IN FAUST . . 135
-6. BYRON'S DELINEATION OF THE SUPERMAN IN MAN-
FRED . 179

7. GENIUS AND FREEDOM OF MIND IN SCHOPENHAUER'S
AND SPINOZA'S TEACHINGS 199

8. THE AWAKENING OF MENTAL FREEDOM THROUGH
CHRIST AND BUDDHA 215

9. TEMPORAL SUPERHUMAOTTY IN ALEXANDER, CESAR,
AND NAPOLEON . . . 273

10. THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE HIGHER MAN ACCORD-
ING TO DARWIN, AND LOMBROSO J S HYPOTHESIS . 305

.11. THE NARROW-MINDED MAN AND THE ANTISOPHY
OF EGOISM: STIRNER, NIETZSCHE, AND IBSEN . . 325

12. THE MYTHS OF PANDORA AND OF THE FALL OF MAN 431

13. CONCLUSION ............ 455

INDEX . 465

NOTE

This book was translated from the sixth edition of the
German original by the late Professor George J. Tamson,
lecturer in English at the University of Gottingen. The
additions to the book in the seventh German edition, the
explanation of Ibsen's "Ghosts" in Chapter XI and the
whole of Chapter XII, were translated by Mrs. Elizabeth
C. Deibel. The entire English version was then thoroughly
revised by Mr. George F. Payn,' reader to the Tauchnitz
Edition in Leipzig, and editor of James's German-
English dictionary, Professor F. Sefton Delmer, lecturer
in English at the University of Berlin, and Mr. John
A. Falconer of the English Seminary at the Hamburg
Colonial Institute.

In the following lectures it is the author's design to
develop definite trains of thought as clearly as possible.
This endeavour may be responsible for a certain amount
of repetition by which means alone, however, it was
possible to arrange the book so that each chapter
should form a complete whole which may be read
independently.

L

ARTISTIC ENJOYMENT AND

PRODUCTIVITY OF THE MAN

OF GENIUS

SCHOPENHAUEE makes the statement that "genius is
simply the completest objectivity, i. e., the objective tend-
ency of the mind, as opposed to the subjective, which is
directed to one's own self in other words, to the" selfish
"will." l Goethe observes: "The first and last thing that
is demanded of genius is love of truth." 2 No one will deny
that both Schopenhauer and Goethe are entitled to speak
with some authority in this matter, for each of them was
a genius of no mean order. How then do the statements
of these two great men stand to each other? Is it ob-
jectivity or is it love of truth that forms the essential
factor of genius? The question is not very difficult to
answer; for objectivity and love of truth are merely two
different expressions for one and the same attitude of
mind. In order to be able to judge objectively, we must,
to a certain extent, be above the thing to be judged. The
longing to ascertain the actual facts, to sift what is true
from what is untrue, must far outweigh any temptation
to present the resultant facts in some particular form cor-

i The World as Witt and Idea. Translated by R. B. Haldane & J. Kemp.
6th ed., 1907-9, vol. I, p. 240.

8 Criticisms, Reflections, and Maxims. Translated by W. B Ronnfeldt,
p. 224.

Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity

responding to a personal desire of our own. From the
moment that we cease to be above the thing to be judged,
we cease to judge objectively, and truth is to us no longer
of any importance. From the moment we entertain the
personal desire of seeing the matter in question reveal
itself in some particular aspect, we cease to be unbiassed
in the investigation, and, consciously or unconsciously,
we are dishonest.

Honesty, love of truth, and objectivity are therefore
identical. Everyone who has a personal interest in a matter
is, from the very outset, exposed to the suspicion of
stating the case to his own advantage, and the stronger
this personal interest is, the stronger will also be the
tendency to look at the matter in a biassed, subjective
way. The moment personal interest, subjectivity, and
self-seeking enter the field, truth is put to flight.
, And just as self-seeking, subjectivity, and falsehood are
kith and kin, so love, which is the antithesis of self-
seeking, and objectivity, which is the pure, single-eyed
interest in the thing itself, are akin to truth. If self-
seeking makes one blind, and incapable of recognising
truth, if the self-seeking man is at the same time the
narrow-minded man, then on the other hand love makes
a man clairvoyant, intuitive, a diviner of hidden
things. The man who has an interest merely in the thing
itself, who is impersonal, disinterested, loving, is the man
whom truth rushes to meet of its own accord; the man who
is impartial and just, who observes objectively, will thus
at the same time be the man of genius; for we must agree
with Schopenhauer, that "genius is simply the completest
objectivity," and with Goethe, that "the first and last
thing that is demanded of genius is love of truth."

Now, as objectivity and love of truth are based on
that tendency of the will which we call love, as opposed

Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity

to self-seeking, we may say that the degree of love in a
man is the measure of the genius he possesses, and that
the degree of his self-seeking is the measure of his narrow-
mindedness.

Other observations made by Goethe in his "Maxims
and Reflections" still further confirm these views: "In
art and knowledge, as also in deed and action, all
depends upon the object's being clearly apprehended and
treated in accordance with its nature." x Again: "By
ill-will and hatred a man's observation is limited to the
surface of things, even though those qualities be accom-
panied by a keen perception. But if the latter goes hand
in hand with good-will and love, it is able to penetrate
into the heart of man and the world, and may even attain
to the supreme goal." 2 Later on: "The whole art of living
consists in giving up our existence" an existence self-
seeking and confined to ourselves "in order to exist,"?
that is, all the more truly and on a higher standard/
Further, in "After Falconet and about Falconet": "What
the artist has not loved, does not love, he should not
depict, he cannot depict."

Let us now attempt to gain a clear conception of the
truth that love pervades and illumines all, and begin
with the domain of aesthetics. The first requisite for
the productivity of the artist is his enjoyment. The artist
cannot produce, unless his mind has previously received
the most manifold impressions. Goethe, who may in this
respect also be taken as an authority, states: "It is
sometimes said in praise of an artist that he has evolved
everything out of himself. Would that I might never
hear this again! Properly speaking, the productions of an
original genius of that kind are composed for the most

- 1 Criticisms, Reflections, and Maxims, p. 163. 2 Id. pp. 175-6.
s Id. p. 178.

Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity

part of reminiscences; any one who has experience will
be able to recall numbers of specific instances." *

The manner of creative production is therefore directly
determined by the nature of the impressions received
by the artist. To be able to paint with genius, one must
be able to see with genius; to compose with genius, one
must be able to hear with genius. Technical aids, talent in
execution, dexterity, and self -discipline, are naturally most
important factors in carrying out a piece of work, the part
they play is, however, but a secondary one. Lessing's
statement is frequently quoted, that Eaphael, even if he
had by some mischance been born without hands, would
nevertheless have been a painter of supreme genius. Why ?
Because even without hands, he would still have seen the
world through the divine eyes of genius, eyes through
which the world shone in bathed in the beauty of the
ideal. His hands only enabled him to represent what
he saw; for what he saw filled him with the rapture that
urges a man to create, to fix his impressions, first for
himself, and then for others.

The difference, therefore, between the genius and the
every-day man lies in their totally different manner of
receiving sense-impressions. When a bull and a Eaphael
contemplate the same landscape, the landscape of course
remains the same; what is not the same, however,
is the impression received by each. The bull prob-
ably sees in the landscape only a mixture of colour-
blotches such as many of our impressionist painters
nowadays represent. A Eaphael, on the other hand, sees
even the most delicate shades of colour, the finest gra-
dations of light and shadow; he traces the contours of
the objects, and follows the lines of the hills with his eye;
and all these colours, lights, and lines awaken peculiar,

1 Criticisms, Reflections, and Maxims, pp. 245-6.

Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity

harmonious feelings in his mind; for a Raphael the whole
landscape speaks a language that the bull does not under-
stand, because the bull sees only the green spot that to
him means fodder.

To form a conception of artistic genius, we must first
of all take into consideration how the aesthetically gifted,
as opposed to the aesthetically limited man, allows sense-
impressions to affect him; for this purpose a critique of the
senses, as G-oethe calls it, is necessary. Concerning this he
says: "Kant has made us acquainted with the critique of
reason, and taught us that this, the highest of human powers,
has need to keep a careful watch over itself. Of the great
benefit which we have derived therefrom, it is to be hoped
that every man has convinced himself. But I should like to
suggest that we require a critique of the senses, if Art in gen-
eral, and especially German art, is ever to regain its vigour
and to advance in a satisfactory and hopeful manner." l

How then is the mode of sensation or sense-reception
of the man of genius connected with the ob j ectivity, which
Schopenhauer claims as the special mark of genius; how,
further, is it connected with the love of truth, which
Goethe demands of genius; and finally how is it con-
nected with that love or intensified objective interest
as opposed to self-seeking which is such an essential
symptom of the presence of genius ?

In order to answer these questions, we must look a little
more closely into the psychic process of sensation or
reception of sense-impressions, bearing in mind the dis-
tinction drawn by psychologists between sensation and
feeling; by sensation being meant the mere admittance of
sense-impressions, and by feeling, on the other hand, that
psychic state of pleasure and pain, of comfort and discom-
fort, connected with every reception of sense-impressions

i Criticisms, Reflections, and Maxims, p. 247.

Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity

as well as with, every other psychic activity. Thus, for
example, when we meet a lady in the street who wears a
scarlet dress, a grass-green cloak, and a bright yellow
hat, the psychologist calls the mere seeing of the colours
red, green, and yellow a sensation, while he calls the
satisfaction or dissatisfaction connected with the sight
of this colour-combination a feeling.

Let us now consider a simple psychic process, such,
for instance, as takes place in a wild animal on sighting
its prey, and thus try to make clear to ourselves the
interplay of the various psychic activities, sensation,
comprehension, and resolution or desire. Suppose a hungry
lion prowling around suddenly sees a slender gazelle in a
thicket. What feeling would be combined with this visual
sensation in the lion? Would the lion become absorbed in
the contemplation of the slender limbs and graceful move-
ments of the pretty creature ? Would an aesthetic feeling
of pleasure arise at the same time with the visual sen-
sation? Clearly not, and why? Because the beast of prey,
driven by hunger, could feel no interest in the mere out-
ward looks of the gazelle. On the contrary, urged by
the wildest desire to appease hunger, the lion cannot
possibly be satisfied with merely gazing at the gazelle.
The visual sensation is for the beast of prey nothing
but a signal that sets in motion, first its primitive power
of thought, and next its desire. Simultaneously with the
visual impression, the vague idea of an object that prom-
ises satiety arises like a flash in the beast's brain. It
is unconscious of the gazelle's individuality and its ex-
quisite grace, and sees in it only a specimen of those animals
that serve it as food. As soon as the beast of prey has
combined this simple general conception with the visual
sensation, it has done with the sensation as such, and
hence no longer dwells upon it.

Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity

If the visual sensation, or the auxiliary sensations of
smelling and hearing, had not been sharp and distinct
enough, the lion would at first have started, stopped
in his tracks, and scrutinized the object more keenly,
to see what kind of thing was moving in the thicket,
whether a possible victim or another beast of prey. If
thus in doubt, the lion would actually have dwelt on
the visual sensation, or on the impression made upon
him by any of the other senses, but obviously only
until, with his primitive powers of thinking, he had
decided whether he is to class the animal in question
with those that serve him as prey, or with those that
might oppose him and become dangerous to him. If
the general conception of something to kill and eat be-
comes combined, either at once or after some hesitation
and examination, with the visual impression, then this
conception will direct the animal's instinct to satisfy his
hunger. The general idea of an object of prey, combined
with the visual sensation, forms a guide for the animal's
instinct. The general idea, thought, or conception, is like
a switchman sending the rushing train, that is, the in-
stinct demanding satisfaction, along the right track. As
soon as the lion has decided that he has before him a
beast fit for prey, the resolution to fall on it and rend
it to pieces is at once formed,

Thus sensation, thought, and resolution* pass into
one another. Sensation instantly becomes thought,
thought becomes resolution, and resolution leads to action.
The main point of this whole inner process remains, for
the beast of prey, the instinct to satisfy its hunger, and
this instinct presses into its service the processes of
sensation, thought and action. The visual sensation,
its collocation into the general idea of an object suit-
able for the satisfaction of hunger, and the movement

Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity

in the direction of this object, are here only subordinate
factors, the mere means to an end, and not the end and
purpose itself. Neither in the mere contemplation of the
gazelle, nor in the mere mental operation of recognising
the gazelle as his "kill," nor in the mere action of leaping
forward and seizing the gazelle, does the beast of prey
take any interest whatever, its whole will being intent
solely and exclusively on satisfying its appetite. Thus
sensation, thought, and action are here entirely sub-
ordinate to the selfish will.

Now, does the lion behave subjectively or objectively
on perceiving the gazelle? Subjectively, it is clear.
According to Schopenhauer, by subjectivity is meant "the
tendency of the mind directed to one's own self in
other words, to the" selfish "will. 55 Subjectivity and
self-seeking are therefore identical.

It is the same with man. Every time he is subjective
and pursues self-seeking interests, he behaves like the
beast of prey. He occupies himself neither with mere
seeing, with mere thinking and comprehending, nor with
that pure species of action the purpose of which lies in
itself; but sensation, comprehension, and action are for
the subjectively biassed man also only means to an end,
means to accomplish his own selfish will, to satisfy his
own self-interest.

To become absorbed in the contemplation of any object,
to be able to dwell on any sensation at all with undivided
attention necessitates detachment of the mind from every
personal, subjective, self-seeking interest. In so far as self-
interest comes into play, a man as well as an animal first
seeks only to grasp the significance of the sensation for his
personal well-being, in order to regulate his conduct by it,
and when this significance has been discovered, he finds
no further use in lingering over the sensation.

Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity

Let us imagine a timber-merchant whose whole interest
happens to consist in making as much money as possible.
He wishes to buy a forest for the purpose of clearing it,
and goes to inspect it. He will carefully examine the
condition of the forest; he will note the different kinds
of timber, will compute his probable gains, will notice
everything which has reference to his business, and when
he has done all this he will go away again. Has he seen
the forest? No, provided that he has only had a selfish
business -interest in it; he has only seen that there is
"money in it." In looking at the forest, he dwelt upon
it only as long as was necessary for him to calculate its
possible advantage to himself. The shifting lights, the
gentle dreamy rustling of the tree-tops, the trickling
rills, the song of the birds, the graceful lizard gliding
through the leaves upon the ground, all this perhaps will
strike his eye and ear, but it will recoil without effect,
and strike no chord of sympathy in his soul. The man's
interest is directed to an entirely different point, his eye
sees and his ear hears only things that have some
bearing on this point; all else knocks in vain at the por-
tals of his soul for admittance.

For in all our sense-perceptions we consciously or
unconsciously select, sift, and arrange. Every moment
of our waking state a host of impressions makes appeal to
our senses. Our clothes, shoes, and hat produce friction and
pressure on the skin; the ground on which we walk, the
chair on which we sit, the table on which we lean, call
forth sensations of pressure; the draught of air that passes
over us brings with it sensations|both of touch and tem-
perature; before our eyes the most various objects are
in motion; our ears 'are struck by the most miscellaneous
sounds; and yet of many, indeed it may be said of the
* greater number of these sense-excitations we know nothing

10 Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity

at all, because our attention is directed to quite definite
sensations connected with the interest that occupies us
at the moment.

Therefore among the numerous sense-stimulations that
reack us simultaneously at any given instant, we always
make a selection, particular stimulations being preferred
and admitted into the bright light of consciousness, while
others are pushed into the background and obstructed,
so that we hardly become aware of them or not at all.
But this selection among the many simultaneous stimu-
lations is directly influenced by man's conscious or un-
conscious will, by his impulses, inclinations, interests,
by his whole character. Thus, for instance, the egotistical
man, who regards everything in its relation to himself,
will only be able to think of himself when anything af-
fects his senses, he will see and hear only that which is
connected with his selfish interest, he becomes narrowed
and confined, therefore, in the use of his senses by his
natural selfishness. Whatever does not minister to his
self-seeking, he neither sees nor hears; it has no exist-
ence for him. He is blind and deaf to whatever lies
beyond his interest in himself.

Hence Goethe's remark: "As in Kome there was, in
addition to the Romans, also a population of statues, so
too there is, in addition to this real world, a world of
illusion which is far more potent than the other, and in
which the majority of persons live," 1 namely the narrow-
minded, self-seeking everyday-folk.

For the better understanding of these psychic processes,
a brief psychological explanation of the word "feeling"
may here be given. Sensation we call the mere reception
of sense -impressions; feeling, on the other hand, the
resultant and concomitant satisfaction or dissatisfaction,

i Criticiems, Reflections, and Maxims, pp. 176-7.

Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity 11

pleasure or pain. Of course, agreeable and disagreeable
feelings, pleasure and pain, occur not only in com-
bination with sensation, but also in close combination
with thoughts and impulses of the will, in other words,
with any psychic operation whatever. An absurd, foolish
thought awakens dissatisfaction, a sensible, wise idea
causes pleasure. A passion by which we are ruled may
under certain circumstances fill us with the deepest grief
and a good, honest resolution with the greatest joy. The
feelings of pleasure or pain, of satisfaction or dissatis-
faction in all their many gradations, are therefore con-
stant accompaniments of all psychic operations, hence
of all sensations, thoughts, and aspirations. But every
activity is directed to some end, and at the base of every
activity lies the wish to attain this end; while every
approach to this end is accompanied by the feeling of
pleasure, and every departure from it by that of annoy-
ance. If then the mind is occupied with any operation,
such, for example, as the operation of perceiving or
receiving sensations, of understanding or arranging sensa-
tions under some general idea, of willing or determining
to do something, then pleasure will accompany an
approach towards the object of such an operation, an-
noyance a departure from it.

Usually it is said that a man desires that which causes
him pleasure. But in reality a man finds pleasure only
in the attainment of his desire, of that towards which,
consciously or unconsciously, his natural impulse is direct-
ed. The lion- is not pleased with the mere sight of the
graceful gazelle, because it is not the sight of the gazelle
he wishes for, but its flesh and blood. If he saw the gazelle
without being able to approach it, the sight, far from
filling the lion with satisfaction, would convulse him wit!
rage. Similarly the sight of a beautiful forest which

12 Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity

rival has forestalled him in buying would not produce in
the timber-merchant a mood of sBSthetic pleasure, but one
of resentment.

Therefore when we see a man take pleasure in the mere
sight of an object, we may assume that, as long as this
pleasure lasts, he desires the sight of the object only and
nothing else; that consequently he takes no material, no
subjective, no selfish, personal interest in the object, but
only an ideal, objective one; that he is in fact a man of
genius, at least during those moments of objective con-
templation* \

The genius is distinguished from the ordinary, average
man only by being permanently and intensively in
this state of disinterested absorption in mere sensation,
whereas the average man is able only transiently, and
usually for some special reason, so far to forget himself
and his earthly needs, as to be carried away by con-
templation, by hearing, or by imaginative impressions
and thus to enter intp the blessedness of a god, a genius,
a pure spirit, who does not need to seek anxiously for
himself within himself, because he finds himself in
all else.

T-.With reference to this Schopenhauer says: "Genius
consists in the capacity of being the pure subject of
knowledge," that is, of being quite disinterestedly carried
away by contemplation. "Yet this faculty must exist in all
men in a smaller and different degree; for if not, such men
would be just as incapable of enjoying works of art as of
producing them; they would have no susceptibility for the
beautiful or the sublime; indeed, these words could have
no meaning for them. We must therefore assume that
there exists in all men this power of knowing the Ideas
in things, and consequently of transcending their person-
ality for the moment, unless indeed there are some men

r,?/.u Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity 13

who are capable of no aesthetic pleasure at all. The man
of genius excels ordinary men only by possessing this
kind of knowledge in a far higher degree and more contin-
uously. Thus, while under its influence, he retains the
presence of mind which is necessary to enable him to
repeat in <a voluntary and intentional work what he has
learned in this manner; and this repetition is the work
of art." i

This v disinterested absorption in the contemplation of
the object is identical with love for the object. To say
that the mere sight of it suffices to give us enjoyment, is
to say. that we wish to have the object what it is; we do
not wish to have it destroyed, altered, or incorporated in
ourselves, but preserved in its actual state, we rejoice in
its mere existence, in other words, we love it. "Love,"-
says Spinoza, "is joy with the accompanying idea of an
external cause." 2 Love is the will which is directed to the
existence of another, selfishness the will whose only aim
is one's own existence. We do not love an object because
it is beautiful; it appears to us beautiful because we love
it. For when we love it, we wish it to exist, and hence we
shall notice in its outward appearance that, above all,
which contributes to its power of existence and on which
its existence depends, that is, the harmony, the vital
cooperation of its parts. But again, on this harmony of
the parts and their co-operation to produce a living
whole all beauty depends, or rather beauty is this
harmony itself, this unity in multiplicity, this order in
diversity.

In a passage in one of his aesthetic essays, Schillei
speaks of those moods in which even the sand that ripples

i The World as Will and Idea, vol. I, pp. 251-2,

a Ethic. Translated by W. H. White; translation revised by A. H. Ster
ling, 4th ed., 1910, p. 163. "Amor eat laetitia concomitante idea
externae,"

14 Artistic Enjoyment and Froductimty

at our feet appears beautiful to us. And now we return to
the point from which we started when we asserted that
it is the manner of seeing and hearing, of receiving
impressions in general, that constitutes artistic genius. It
is objectivity, love, the interest merely in the thing itself,
that enables the man of genius to become absorbed in
an object, to lose himself completely in the impression
it produces.^ But the more we abandon ourselves in
this manner to things themselves, the more will they
say to us, the more will they reveal to us their most
secret nature, and the more closely shall we approach
truth. Hence Goethe's saying: "The first and last thing
that is demanded of genius is love of truth." But what
is truth?

Truth is the all-unity of mind. Truth is, that all men,
all animals, all things, the whole apparent world, are
only the outward and visible expression of one single
Being Whom we call God. Men, animals, plants, and all
seemingly lifeless things, are only masks and disguises
of the Divinity. God is contained in all, and so the
division and separation among persons as well as among
things is only seemingly such. For in reality everything
is one Personality, or one spiritual Unity, whichever we
choose to call it. By their outward appearance things
and also persons are separated from each other, but truth
is their unity.

Now, the further a man penetrates through this
outward semblance into the nature of things, and the
more he becomes absorbed in their inmost being, the
more will he recognise their unity, first their unity among
themselves, and next their unity with himself. He
recognises himself in them, his soul is reflected in them,
and God within him perceives Himself in His world.
Beauty is the visible expression of this relation between

J Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity 15

observer and observed, between subj ect and obj ect. Beauty
is divine unity in sensation. The artistic genius observes
with the eyes and hears with the ears of God.

The Hindoo says, "Thou art I;" that means, my ego
lives again in you, my ego is much greater than I know
myself, my ego is not confined to my person alone, but
embraces all that exists. When I die, only this one
form of my ego vanishes, while countless other forms
remain and continually arise anew. Death does not
annihilate me, for I live in God, and God lives in all.
Love is the expression of this relation; it unites what
is seemingly divided: it brings about the gracious
miracle that man passes beyond his finite, limited, single
personality, by expanding his ego and absorbing into
his will the existences of others too. What else is loving
but enriching, expanding, enlarging oneself by the ad-
dition of what one loves? Why do I take care of him
whom I love, why do I give him of my best, and even,
when necessary, lay down my life for him? Why do
I do all this? Because my ego has become a part of his
ego; because I live in him, just as he, if he loves me,
lives also in me. I can enlarge and expand my ego more
and more by expanding my love in ever wider circles,
until I have received within my will the existence of the
whole world.

Hence Schiller says: "Love is the noblest phenomenon
in the world of souls, the all-powerful magnet in the
spiritual sphere, the source of devotion and of the sub-
limest virtue. Yet love is only the reflection of this
single original Power, an attraction of the Excellent,
based upon an instantaneous permutation of individual-
ity, an interchange of being. When I hate, I take
something from myself; when I love, I become richer
by what I love.

16 Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity

"There are moments in life when we are impelled to
press to our heart every flower, every remote star, each
worm, and the sublimest spirit we can think of. We are
impelled to embrace them, all nature, as we do our beloved,
A man who has advanced so far as to read off all the
beauty, greatness, and excellence in the great and small of
nature, and to find the great unity for this manifold variety,
has advanced much nearer to the Divinity. The great
creation flows into his personality. If each man loved all
men, each individual would possess the whole world." x

Such is the expression of the godlike feeling of Schiller's
genius.

The self-seeking, subjectively prejudiced man robs him-
self of these highest goods, and therein lies his shallowness,
his narrowmindedness, in the domain of art as well as in
other fields. By loving only himself, by desiring merely
his own existence, and by regarding everything only from
the standpoint of his personal interest, he impoverishes
himself and remains blind to the boundless wealth that
surrounds him, to the divine, ideal beauty that beams
in upon him from all sides.

Objectivity, love, is the secret of all genius, hence
also of artistic intuition. The artist loves the object
that he contemplates, he desires its existence, and conse-
quently he regards it not one-sidedly, not with reference
to particular characteristics of practical interest, but from
all sides, in all directions essential to the existence of the
object itself. He does not see in the forest, as the timber-
merchant does, a mere business project, a sum of money;
he loves the thing, the forest itself. It pleases him, because
he is engrossed by the sight of it, because he sees and
hears it all. He is indeed all eye and ear, delighted by
the fragment of still-life before him that speaks in so

1 &sthetical and Philosophical Essays. Newly translated, 1910, pp. 385, 387.

Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity - 17

eloquent a language to Ms heart, lie seeks to give ex-
pression to his feelings, and thus there arises, according
to the special talent and to the chosen form of art of the
person in question, a poem, a song, a picture, or a marble
statue. If he has been denied the power of embodying his
feelings in an artistic form, he will try to express himself
in abstract thought or noble action.

That which the artist produces is therefore not a mere,
outward imitation of the object, but an original creation
which owes its origin to the impression made by the
object. It is impossible for the artist to make a mere
imitation serve the purpose of the beautiful reality, since
the latter must ever be far superior to any imitation. The
artist therefore creates a second reality, a second original
under the impression made by the first, and this now acts
upon us as the first reality acted upon him.

It is utterly ridiculous and inadmissible to demand
that an artist should keep exactly to his model and do
nothing more than counterfeit nature, that he should
not, for the life of him, idealise and compose, but only
reproduce some fragment or other of existing nature,
and this without adding to or taking from it anything
whatever. That would be not art, but a childish pastime,
for it would entirely miss its aim, seeing that a mere,
dead, spiritless imitation cannot approach the original in
its effect. The man who loves, however, sees the object
already idealised and perfected. Again and again he
becomes engrossed in the contemplation of the beauty of
each separate part, until the whole melts together into a
single harmony; it becomes a unity, a complete whole
a finished poem, a musical composition, or a picture.

The mere cold reproduction of a fragment singled out
and torn off from the reality is an absolute impossibility
to an artistic genius. For such work a shallow, prosaic

B

18 Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity

man is required, not a man of genius. Since the former
studies the object before him without loving it, he does
not 'penetrate into its innermost being, but notices only
its purely external characteristics. The object does not
become alive for him, it does not speak to him, because
he remains a stranger to it; for what we do not love, re-
mains for us a purely external, a secondary, a strange
and incomprehensible thing. The artistic genius finds
himself again in the beloved object as Byron says:

"I live not in myself, but I become
Portion of that around me." 1

the prosaic, narrow-minded man gapes at the thing and
believes that he is reproducing it, when he records a few
outward features which strike his eye. With all his
striving to be perfectly natural, such an artist becomes
quite unnatural, for no mere imitation of nature can be
nature itself, and hence will always be something quite
different. The man of genius, on the other hand, who
grasps the purposes of nature, himself creates a piece of
nature under its influence. The man of genius is always
original and natural, from the very fact that he does
not merely imitate, but creates under the influence and
impression of objects from his innermost self, from the
nature within him.

In this sense must be understood the words of Goethe:
"The very thing in works of art which strikes uneducated
persons as most like nature, is not nature (from without),
but man (nature from within)." 2

The artist of genius idealises the object he reproduces,
but does he thereby become untrue and unnatural? Is
he not rather then just to the thing when, in pursuing
the intentions of nature, he perfects, completes, idealises

i Childe Harold, III, 72. * Criticiwns, Reflections, and Maxima, p. 243.

Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity 19

it, renders it more beautiful or characteristic than it
appears in fact to the prosaic eye?

We have pointed out above that from among the large
number of sense -impressions that continually stream in
upon us, our mind, influenced by our interest, makes a
selection, so that some sensations are drawn into the bright
light of consciousness, while others are forced into the
background and obscured. We saw further that a selfish
interest leads a man to see in things only certain external
characteristics of practical importance, whereas the dis-
interested man regards things for their own sake, and
hence looks at them from every point of view and notes
their essential features. But things do not exist merely
for the superficial observer, rather they are something
in themselves, they have an inner life that they reveal
only to him who is absorbed in them, whose soul goes
out to them. If therefore the artist represents only that
which is purely external, only the entirely superficial
impression things make upon him, he has not represented
the things themselves, but only his superficial, sub-
jective impression.

The narrow-minded man regards everything merely in
its relation to his own person, the object itself therefore
continues to be a thing apart from him, and only its
outward, subjective impression remains. If an artist of
this kind sees in some fragment of nature, and on the
most cursory observation, only blots of colour, he paints
merely these blots and then takes immense pride to
himself for his fidelity to nature. That things do not consist
only of spots of colour, but have an independent, firmly
outlined form, he does not, according to his ideas, require
to know, it does not concern him. It is not the things
themselves that interest him, but only the very superficial
external impression that he obtains of them. Nay, he

20 Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity

sometimes actually hates the things, purposely selecting
their ugly aspects, their paltry features, all that is im-
perfect, formless and faulty in them. Of certain inferior
products of modern art one might say without hesitation:
so only could Hate paint and poetise.

The artistic genius who is not confined merely to a
subjective, external impression, but who enters into
things with all his soul, who penetrates into their
inner character, and tries to grasp, not their acci-
dental, external form alone, but rather their nature and
essence, such an artistic genius will not emphasise that
which is imperfect, formless, and faulty, but on the
contrary, that which is perfect, full of form, and charac-
teristic in them. For their nature and essence consist in
that which is perfect and not in that which is faulty,
since their existence itself depends upon the very highest
perfection, while their defects imply their destruction.
All that is faulty arises by outward disturbance, all per-
fection is the outcome of the innermost nature of the
thing itself.

To a crystal, for instance, which shapes itself out
of a cooling mass, form is absolutely essential, and this
form shows a great perfection and faultless mathematical
exactitude. Nevertheless, in reality a crystal seldom
attains to perfection of form, as it is hindered in its
development by other crystals growing on to it, or by
other unfavourable outward factors. But even in an
imperfect crystal, in a fragment, a remnant, the man
of science will still recognise the perfect form that is
an essential of the crystal in question. So also the
artistic genius sees in things, not the form that they
bear accidentally, but that form which is essential to
them, which they ought to have. He sees in things the
ideal which they strive to attain, the Idea, and represents

Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity 21

this. Hence "the Platonic Idea" is called by Schopenhauer
"the Object of Art." 1

The eye of love sees what is perfect. There is a bond
between love and perfection as there is between hatred
and imperfection. This is expressed in noble words by
Schiller in his "Philosophical Letters," where he says:
"Once we perceive excellence, it is ours. Once we become
intimate with the high ideal Unity, we shall be drawn to
one another in brotherly love. If we plant beauty and joy
we shall reap beauty and joy. If we think clearly we shall
love ardently. 'Be ye perfect, as your Father in heaven
is perfect,' says the Founder of our Faith. Weak human
nature turned pale at this command, therefore He explained
Himself in clearer terms: 4 Love one another! 3 " 2

Love makes perfect. To love, to desire the existence
of another, is at the same time to desire that which
belongs to such existence, the conditions of existence.
But every defect makes existence more difficult, every
perfection makes it easier. To desire a thing to exist,
therefore, is at the same time to desire that there may
be no defect in it, that it may fulfil its purpose, its idea,
that it may be perfect as far as possible. Hence when
we love a thing, we always lay stress on its perfections,
on those characteristics which realise its purpose, its idea.
When we hate a thing, we chiefly see all that excludes
or obstructs its existence, that is, everything defective,
faulty, imperfect, ugly, aimless, and stupid.

What else therefore will a Eaphael, with his heart full
of divine love, see in a landscape, but all that is harmoni-
ous, in concord, coherent, and ideal? The distant contours
of the mountains, the towering masses of cloud, the rocks
in the foreground, the meandering course of the river,

1 The World as Witt and Idea, vol. I, p. 217.

2 Msihetical and Philosophical Essays, p. 390,

22 Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity

the dark wood, all these can be seen in their lights and
shadows, their colours and their lines, in a thousand
different ways* If thousands of artists were to look at the
same object, each one would see it in his own manner.
For no object makes one single unchanging impression,
but rather each impression made by an object is com-
posed of many single impressions that cannot possibly be
simultaneously and fully perceived. There is always a
selection made among the impressions, and this selection
is connected with the whole personality of the observer.
Every individual sees only that which is congenial
to him.

But what is perfection? It is that state in which
all the conditions of existence are present. And what
are these conditions? On what is the existence of an
object based? It is based on the harmonious concord of
its parts. For all things are compound, consisting of single
parts through whose co-operation alone the living whole
is formed. As soon as any one part becomes detached,
the destruction of the whole sets in, unless the deficiency
be made good. Now, the more perfectly the single parts
harmonise together, the more will the whole be capable
of existence, the more will it have reality. Hence Spinoza
could say, "By reality and perfection I understand the
same thing." 1

Let us, for example, consider a living human body,
as it is presented to the eye. Head and trunk are in
harmonious relation; we see how each single limb is
attached to the trunk, in these the members of which
the limbs are composed, and in the latter again, as in
the trunk and head, numerous muscles and ligatures, all
operating in concert to produce a harmonious whole, and
the more perfect they are, the better they answer their

1 Ethic, p. 48. "Dixi me per realitatem et perfeotionem idem intelligere."

Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity 23

purpose, the more completely their movements are adapt-
ed to each, other, the more will strength and grace appear
in the vigorous outward activity, in the motions of the
whole. The observer who is aesthetically, lovingly ab-
sorbed in this marvel of creation, will view with pleasure
every perfection in it, and every defect with dissatisfaction.
For every defect, every stunted limb, every stiff and
awkward movement mars the idea of the whole, dimin-
ishes the perfection of the object, obstructs its existence,
is a step towards the annihilation of the whole. But love
makes not for killing, but for helping things to live. To
love is to desire the existence of another, is to desire that
which is the essence of existence, namely, the harmonious
co-operation of all the parts towards one whole, which is
perfection.

As with the crystal, so also with the human body, it
is only accidental, external hindrances that stand in the
way of the harmonious development of the whole. If
these external, marring influences had not interfered, the
crystal, like the human body, would have developed nor-
mally; for in the thing itself lies the striving after exist-
ence, the will to live, and with it also the yearning for
the essentials of existence, for the most perfect develop-
ment of its parts. The inner truth that is grasped by that
deeper insight of the mind of genius which penetrates into
the nature of things, the inner truth in the crystal as in
the human body, is therefore not the stunted, the in-
harmonious, the defective in the whole, but that which
is arranged strictly after some design, and is perfect and
harmonious, in other words, that which gives aesthetic
pleasure to the eye. Beauty is living unity impressing
itself on us through sensation.

Just as in judging the character and actions of a
man we must in fairness take into consideration his dis-

24 Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity

position also, that is, not only what he has actually done,
but also what he has hoped and striven to do, without
perhaps having succeeded, so the artist will do justice to a
thing only when he sees and represents not merely what
it has actually become under stress of unpropitious cir-
cumstances, and only when he penetrates more deeply
into the essence of the thing, and sees and gives ex-
pression to that for which the object is destined by its
inner nature. This is what is called by Schopenhauer,
Spinoza, Goethe, Plato, and other inspired poets and
thinkers the Idea of a thing, its ideal.

The ideal, therefore, is not something unnatural, some-
thing artificially constructed, on the contrary, it is nature
itself in its inmost being. If all things had only an out-
side, if they were all merely empty vessels, husks without
kernels, the extreme representatives of the naturalistic
school would be right in representing only the acciden-
tal, superficial, outward semblance. But as nature has
also a kernel, something within itself that forms its very
essence, the real nature of nature so to say, the name
of naturalism sounds like mockery and derision when used
in reference to a school which neglects precisely that inner
essence of nature, its striving after existence, its desire for
life, its impulse towards perfection. In like manner the
name of realism for this kind of art is wholly inappropri-
ate. For, according to Spinoza, reality and perfection in
a thing are identical, seeing that the more perfectly
shaped it is in all its parts, the more capacity for exist-
ence, the more vital truth, and the more reality it will
possess.

This false realism, in contrast to what its name is
meant to convey, prefers to see in things that only which
reduces their reality, their capacity for existence, all that
is defective, faulty, common, ignoble, or ugly. One often

Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity 25

observes in life that uncharitableness notices all defects,
makes them as conspicuous and emphatic as possible,
whereas love, on the other hand, seeks out what is good,
sees and commends the beautiful. Many a blase modern
artist approaches things with indifference, nay, with re-
pugnance and contempt, and hence his delight in de-
picting that which is awkward, ugly, jejune, common, or
clumsy. He finds pleasure in seeking out and gathering
together all the defects in nature, like the wicked man
who makes a jest of the nakedness of a beggar, instead
of finding him the wherewithal to cover it.

The same principle holds good in all provinces of the
beautiful. Whether it be a landscape we are looking at or
the characters and fates of men, whether we study the
marvellous structure of the human body, or listen to the
song of the birds, the rustling of the forest, or the music
of the human voice, it is always our hearts, our wishes
that decide the impression things produce on us.

Who has not at one time or another in his own ex-
perience, on meeting with an unhoped-for piece of good
fortune or having a long-fostered, fervent desire suddenly
realised, observed that the whole world immediately ap-
peared to him in brighter colours, that everything at once
seemed to him beautiful, good, and excellent, that he felt
more kindly disposed and more ready to excuse the faults
and failings of others; and found, on the other hand, that
misfortune made him bitter, that everything was instantly
seen in a gloomy light and appeared to him ugly and
mean? And why so? Because mankind is always in-
clined to look upon good fortune as a benefit, and upon
misfortune as an injustice. A benefit awakens love, an
injustice hatred. The happy man sees beauty everywhere,
because he sees with the eyes of love; to the unhappy man
the world is ugly, because his eye is clouded by hatred.

26 Artistic Enjoyment and Productivity

We must therefore never forget that it is not only in
everyday life that love makes existence bearable and
elevates it more and more to the full consciousness of a
crowning happiness; it is love which even in their mere
outward appearance reveals the deeper nature of things
that deeper nature which even under the plainest
covering shines forth in divine beauty to the seeing eye.
Genius is love.

II.

PHILOSOPHIC ASPIRATION OF
THE MAN OF GENIUS.

"GENIUS is simply the completest objectivity," are
Schopenhauer's words; but objectivity is explained by
him as "the objective tendency of the mind, as opposed
to the subjective, which is directed to one's own self
in other words, to the" selfish "will." 1 Subjectivity and
self-seeking are identical, as are obj ectivity and love. Hence
artistic genius depends on the objectivity with which im-
pressions of the senses and the imagination are received,
in other words, its essence lies in the artist's love for the
object before him.

To love is to desire the existence of a thing, to desire
that on which its existence depends, on which its being
is based. The existence of an object again is based on its
perfection, and this is identical with the harmonious
and uniform co-operation of all the various parts of
the thing. Hence to love an object is to desire its
capability of existence, its being built up of parts, per-
fectly, harmoniously, uniformly and systematically. Now,
the total external sense-impression we receive from the
harmonious organisation and purposeful arrangement of
the various parts of an object is that of beauty, charm,
grace.

1 The World as Witt and Idea. vol. I, p. 240.

27

28 Philosophic Aspiration

In the contemplation of an object we see in it for the
most part what we desire to see. We always direct our
attention to those points in the object that are interesting
to us, whereas we neglect or at most only superficially
notice those features in which we take no interest. When
we love an object, we see with interest everything in it
which makes it fit to exist, which makes it perfect and its
outward appearance beautiful; when we hate an object,
those things in it interest us which make it incapable of
existence, which make it imperfect, which make its out-
ward appearance ugly. Love sees in an object all that is
beautiful, hatred all that is ugly.

The essence of things is not based on their imper-
fection, but- on their perfection; for in the essence of
all things lies the desire to exist, to be, to live. To all
existence, to all life, perfection is necessary, that is, a har-
monious and uniform co-operation of the parts of which
each thing is composed. But if the essence, the real
nature of all things consists in their striving after exist-
ence and therefore after perfection, the artist will the better
grasp and succeed in representing that essence and real
nature of the object before him, in proportion as he takes
the more interest in its perfection of outward expression,
that is, in its beauty, charm, and grace. The artist who
idealises real things in the right manner will become
thereby not untrue, but really true to nature.

On the other hand, the artist will the more easily fail to
appreciate the essence, the nature of the things to be re-
presented, in proportion as he is inclined to give atten-
tion and prominence to their deficiencies, uglinesses, de-
formities, and faults; and to the same degree his efforts
will be untrue and unnatural.

Artistic genius is identical' with the objectivity with
which we receive impressions. The artistic genius grasps

the essence, the nature of things as it is impressed on the
senses and on the imagination. Hence the words of Goethe:
"The first and last thing that is demanded of genius is
love of truth." 1 For in all things truth is just what con-
stitutes their real essence, their nature.

Now, what is philosophical genius ? If genius in general
is to .be defined as objectivity, disinterestedness, love,
then philosophical genius must be defined as objectivity,
disinterestedness, love in thinking. But what is thinking,
and how is egotistical thinking distinguished from dis-
interested thinking, narrow-minded thinking from think-
ing that is inspired by genius?

We have already seen that a certain measure of perfec-
tion is necessary to the existence of every thing ; the
more systematic and uniform the arrangement of the
parts of which a thing is composed, and the more har-
moniously those parts co-operate, the more capable of
life, of existence will the whole be, the more reality, or
actuality will it possess. We remember the saying of Spinoza
that actuality, existence, reality, and perfection are iden-
tical. Now, the perfection, vital activity, or actuality of a
thing can, firstly, be seen with our eyes, heard with our
ears, touched with our hands; that is, we can receive
a sense-impression of it. This actuality or perfection
which impresses our senses, we call beauty. But we can,
secondly, form a general notion, an idea, a conception of
the actuality or perfection of a thing without letting
the thing in question directly affect our senses or imagi-
nation. This general notion, idea, or conception is then
in itself ordered and arranged just as the sense-impression
is; that is to say, the general notion, idea, or conception is
made up of a number of component notions, ideas, or con-
ceptions in the same manner as the complete sense-im-

i Criticisms, Reflections, and Maxims, p, 224.

30 Philosophic Aspiration

pression of an object is made up of a number of separate
sense-impressions.

For instance, the impression produced on our sense of
vision by a living human body is composed of the many
impressions made by the various parts of that body upon
our sense of vision. Our attention is attracted successively
by the head, the trunk, the limbs; in observing the head
again we specially notice the hair, the brow, the eyes, the
nose, mouth, ears, and chin; in the eyes, perhaps the
vivid colouring of the iris, the large pupils, or the long
black lashes may attract our notice; in short, a large
number of separate visual impressions make up the total
impression we receive of a human body, and the more
completely all its single parts harmonise together, the
more full of life will the whole be and the more beautiful
will it appear to us.

Similarly, the idea of the human body is composed
of many ideas, each of which corresponds to one of its
parts. To acquire a general idea of the human body, we
must have a large number of general ideas of its single
parts and of their co-operation, ideas, for instance, of
the trunk, the limbs and the head. The conception of
each of these parts again demands separate conceptions of
the parts of each part. A knowledge of such a limb as the
arm involves a knowledge of the shoulder-blade, upper
arm, forearm, and hand. A knowledge of the hand again
must take into account the wrist, palm, and fingers; to
the conception of a finger belong those of its single
joints; to the conception of the last joint of a finger the
various conceptions of its nail, skin, final tendon, adipose
and cellular tissue, bone, blood-vessels, and nerves. If
we go farther, we find that to the conception of the nerv-
ous system of the hand belong the conceptions of the
sensory, motory, and sympathetic nerves, that is, of the

Philosophic Aspiration 31

nerves that regulate sensation, motion, and the vascular
system. 'The conception of a sensory nerve next involves
conceptions of the terminal organ lying under the surface
of the skin or of the tactile corpuscle and of the conductor
nerve-fibre; the conception of a conductor nerve-fibre that
of the actual nerve-substance, or axial cylinder, and of the
integument of the nerve-fibre; the conception of the actual
nerve-substance involves the conceptions of its many
constituent albuminous molecules and their chemical prop-
erties; that of each albuminous molecule again the con-
ceptions of the various intricately grouped atoms that
compose it.

Hence it will be seen that the conception of a human
body is by no means a simple affair, but is immensely
varied and complicated, exactly corresponding to the real
existence of the body, always supposing that these con-
ceptions are correctly formed.

This correct formation of conceptions, however, is the
function of science. For the prosecution of a science, a
man requires an objective, free and disinterested mind,
a mind unfettered by personal aims and considerations,
a mind, in short, that is capable of concentrating all its
interest on the object in question and its investigation.
For a subjective interest only sees the object in the light
of some conception that has a direct, practical value for
the observer.

Is the butcher interested in the fine anatomical struc-
ture of the animal he is slaughtering? Certainly not, he
sees only what his trade demands, the amount of meat,
fat, and bone he can obtain in cutting up the animal, and
the pecuniary profit he can realise by its sale. Has he in
the exercise of his trade a true and complete conception
of the animal's body? Evidently he has only a quite one-
sided, imperfect one, not wrong in itself, but of which it

32 Philosophic Aspiration

would be absurd to say that it coincides with a con-
ception of the essentials of the animal's body. To the
butcher this carcase in itself is not so interesting that he
feels impelled to examine into its finest, microscopic struc-
ture; for him the interest consists only in the profit that he
may derive from its meat, and therefore he will give thought
to it only in so far as it has practical importance for him.

But the true nature of the animal does not lie in the
fact that it is a possible source of profit to the butcher
and that it may serve as an article of food for man; the
animal has an existence of its own, it is there for its own
sake, it desires to live, and not to be slaughtered and
eaten. And this impulse towards existence finds expression
in the whole structure of its body down to the minutest
details, in the system of bones that lends stability
and firmness to the body, in the ligatures and muscles
that connect and bind the framework of the body into
a whole, in the nervous system that receives and
classifies impressions from the outer world and sets the
muscular system in motion, in the vegetative organs,
in the vascular system, etc. Therefore, to form as cleai
and as perfect an idea of the body of an animal as pos-
sible, is really to form a clear and reasonably complete
idea of its capacity for existence, of its capacity to live.
A man sets his whole mind, however, only on that which
interests him. If he takes no interest in the existence
of living creatures, it will be quite immaterial to him
what the conditions of their existence are, that is to say,
the structure of their bodies in the minutest details, the
co-operation of the parts, the activity of the various
organs, and so on.

The things of the outer world act in the first place uppr
our senses, but they set to work our reasoning faculty
also, We seek to understand the things of the outei

Philosophic Aspiration 33

world, we think about them, and try to explain them to
ourselves. Now, the more self-seeking a man is, the more
will he regard each object with reference to himself, and
think only of the possible advantage that object may
have for Mm. What does not affect the person of the
egoist is of no interest to him; he reflects no further on
it and therefore remains stupid and narrow-minded. The
more disinterested, on the other hand, a man is, the more
will he incline to occupy himself with things for their own
sake; not only when his personal advantage compels Kim
to do so, but whenever time and opportunity allow, he
will try to reach the heart of things and to understand
their relations to one another.

Such an endeavour we call a philosophical one. The
more disinterested, objective, full of genius a man is, the
more strongly-marked will this philosophical aspiration
also be in him, and it then depends only on time and
opportunity whether and in how far his desire will be
carried out. The man of genius, who takes an interest in
things themselves, to whom everything is interesting even
when his own profit is not concerned, will at any moment
be ready to acquire information. He will be quick to seize
wisdom, and sometimes grasp knowledge suddenly and
without any effort, while the subjectively interested man
only attains it by the sweat of his brow and by pro-
tracted study. The former instructs himself, because the
instruction gives him pleasure, the latter does so only on
compulsion, because the knowledge is demanded by his
business, profession, or branch of study. "Wisdom lies
only in truth," 1 says Goethe, namely, in the truth and
purity of sensation, thought, and will.
Jt The essence of things does not lie on the surface, on the
contrary, it lies in their innermost selves. 1 ^ To attain an

* Criticisms, Reflections, and Maxims, p. 165.

C

34 Philosophic Aspiration

insight into things we must become absorbed in them.
But a continuous energy of mind such as can only be
called forth by the liveliest interest in the object itself, is
requisite for this absorption. This is why a narrow-minded
man is always so quick with his opinion. He has not
enough love for the object to make him take it seriously.
He observes only in so far as his personal, subjective
interest compels him to do so and any further effort of
observation is boredom to him. He therefore seeks to
come to a conclusion about the object as quickly as
possible, and is eager to have done with it.

In this connection Schopenhauer says: "The common
mortal, that factory-product of Nature which she turns
out by the thousand every day, is, as we have said, not
capable, pb least not continuously so, of observation
that in every sense is wholly disinterested, as contem-
plation, strictly so-called is. He can turn his atten-
tion to things only so far as they have some relation, no
matter how remote, to his 5 ' selfish "will. Since in this
attitude of mind, which never demands anything but the
knowledge of relations, the abstract conception of the
thing is sufficient, and for the most part even better
adapted for use, the ordinary man does not linger long
over the mere perception, does not fix his attention long
on one object, but in all that is presented to him hastily
seeks merely the concept under which it is to be brought,
as the lazy man seeks a chair, and then it interests him
no further. This is why he is so soon done with every-
thing, with works of art, objects of natural beauty, and
indeed everywhere with the truly significant contempla-
tion of all the scenes of life. He does not linger, only
seeks to know his own way in life, together with all that
might at any time become his way. Thus he makes topo-
graphical notes in the widest sense of the word; over the

Philosophic Aspiration 35

consideration of life itself as such, he wastes no time.
The man of genius, on the other hand, whose excessive
power of knowledge frees it at times from the service
of " his selfish " will, dwells on the consideration
of life itself and strives to comprehend the Idea of each
thing." 1

He who looks at a thing hastily and superficially
has no idea of its real nature. He recognises only the
casual impression that the thing makes upon him. If the
things of this world were mere empty shells, the narrow-
minded man would be right in only concerning himself
superficially about them; but they are, on the contrary,
something in themselves, they have an existence, a life of
their own, and to understand them, we must mentally
transplant ourselves into them. The whole essence of
things consists in their striving after existence, in their
desire to live. This doctrine is expressed in Spinoza's
statement: "The effort by which each thing endeavours
to persevere in its own being is nothing but the actual
essence of the thing itself." 2

This general striving after existence, this desire to
live, exhibits itself in different ways in different things.
One thing desires to exist in one way, another in
another way. The striving after existence remains the
same in all; only the form of existence is different. A
fish strives after existence exactly as a bird, a man, a
plant, or a crystal does, but each thing seeks to realise this
effort in a different form. This difference in the forms
of existence is based on the difference in the composition
of the parts of each object. For each single thing in this
world is composed of parts, and the manner of their

1 The World as Will and Idea, vol. I, pp. 242-3.

2 Ethic, p. 114. " Conatus, quo unaquaeque res in suo ease perseverare
oonatur, nihil est praetor ipsius rei aotualem essentiam."

36 Philosophic Aspiration

composition determines the special nature of the thing.
The more complicated this composition, the higher stands
the life of the object in question. The parts of which
a thing is composed are quite definitely related to each
other.

Now, if we can form a correct mental picture of the
parts of an object and of their relations to one another,
then we'can say that we have grasped the idea of that ob-
ject. This idea, however, is not only a creation of our own
brains, but is at the same time the special nature of the
thing itself. Spinoza expresses this when he says: "The
order and connection of ideas is the same as the order
and connection of things. 55 1 For every object strives not
only after existence in general, but simultaneously after
some particular form of existence. In other words, every
aspiration has some end in view, there is a direction to
every movement, and every effort of will is accompanied
by an idea of what is willed. Will is not "blind." In every-
thing the striving after existence, the wish to live, is
based on a plan or an idea which the thing endeavours
to realise during its existence. To investigate an object
scientifically, philosophically, is to comprehend its total
idea, the plan according to which the object forms
itself out of its component parts, or to analyse it into
those partial ideas of which the whole consists; it is
to reproduce in one 5 s own mind that plan on which the
life and action of the object is founded, whether that
object be a molecule which is composed of atoms, or a
nation which is composed of individuals.

Since, however, no single thing can develop and main-
tain itself unhindered by disturbing influences, so also
nothing can ever fully correspond to that plan, that

1 Efhic, p. 62. " Ordo et connesio idearum idem est ac ordo et con-
uexio rerum."

Philosophic Aspiration 37

idea, the realisation of which is the aim of its existence.
No single thing can in its outward actuality entirely
correspond to the idea that lies at the foundation of
its own nature; for each thing is at the same time the
product of its own inner formative impulse, and of
accidental and external circumstances which may favour
this formative impulse, but which may also retard it.
He who merely interests himself superficially in an ob-
ject, without entering more fully into its nature, will fail
to distinguish between that which is imperfect or not
in accordance with the idea, the plan, the form of its
existence, and that which is perfect or in harmony with
its actual nature.

Now, the essential mark of genius is this absorption in
the real nature of objects; genius is the spirit "who prizes
only the depths of being. 55 In his objective interest in
the life, in the existence of all things, the attention of
the man of genius will always be attracted by that on
which every existence chiefly depends, the idea, the plan;
and he will therefore carefully distinguish between the
healthy and the unhealthy, the perfect and the imperfect,
the normal and the perverted. For, as Schopenhauer
expresses it, "the actual objects are almost always
very imperfect copies of the Ideas expressed in them;
therefore the man of genius requires imagination in
order to see in things, not that which Nature has actually
made, but that which she endeavoured to make, yet
could not because of the conflict of her forms among
themselves." a

In so much as objective interest or love lies in a
man, in so much will there be the impulse in him to do
justice to things in his thoughts of them. The philo-
sophical endeavour of the man of genius will aim at f orm-

1 The World as Witt and Idea, vol. I, p. 241.

38 Philosophic Aspiration

ing as clear and distinct a conception as possible of the
universe in which he has his own position as a part of
an infinite whole. With the comprehension of the ideas,
of the nature of things, his own nature will become more
and more revealed to him. He will recognise the connec-
tion between all existing things, that divine unity that
is alike manifest in his own body and mind, in the life of
the plant, and in the movements of the stars. Goethe, in
his poem "One and All" (Ems und Alles), has mirrored
this feeling of the thinking man of genius:

"To find himself in boundless spaces,
Each one with joy himself effaces;
There weariness is put to flight.
Not wild desires, high aspirations,
Not irksome claims, strict obligations,
But self-surrender is delight.

Come, universal soul, inspire us!

That with the world-spirit it may fire us

To struggle, as our highest call.

Then perfect masters will instruct us,

Then kindly spirits will conduct us

To Him that made and fashioned all.

To recreate what is created,
Lest ever it become stagnated,
Forms living work that will remain.
What never was will now be moulded,
As bright-hued worlds, pure suns unfolded;
'T may ne'er be suffered rest to obtain.

It must be stirred, act by production,
First take a shape, then reconstruction;
It only seems at times to rest.

Philosophic Aspiration 39

Eternal power in all 's exerted;
For all to nothing is converted,
When for its life it will contest." 1

The philosophical endeavour of the man of genius will
approach ever more and more towards a comprehension
of the spiritual unity of all being, towards the great truth
which is the goal of all deeper minds. The natural sciences
have already taught us that an inviolable order reigns
throughout the universe, that an eternal obedience to law
obtains in all phenomena, and that an extraordinary uni-
formity exists in all multitudinousness throughout innu-
merable changes, and each year brings further confirmation
of the lesson. The latest great advance in this direction has
been made by experiments which have proved that electric-
ity is subject to the same laws as light. Electricity, mag-

1 " Im Granzenlosen sioh zu finden,

Wird gem der Einzelne verschwinden,

Da 16s' t sich alter tJberdrufi;

Statt heiBem Wiinsclien, wildem Wollen,
. Statt last'gem Fordern, strengem Sollen,

Sioh aufzugeben 1st GenuB.

Weltseele komm uns zu durchdringen !
Dann mit dem Weltgeist selbst zu ringen
Wird unsrer Krafte Hochberuf .
Teilnehmend f iihren gute Geister,
Gelinde leitend, hoehste Meister,
Zu dem, der alles schafft und schuf .

Und umzuschaffen das Geschaffne,
Damit sicht's nicht zum Starren waffne,
"Wirkt ewiges, lebendiges Tun.
Und was nioht war, nun will es werden,
Zu reinen Sonnen, farbigen Erden;
In keinem Falle darf es runn.

Es soil sich regen, schaffend handeln,
Erst sich gestalten, dann verwandeln;
Nur scheinbar steht's Momente still.
Das Ewige regt sich fort in alien:
Denn alles muB in nichts zerfallen,
Wenn es im Sein beharren will."

40 Philosophic Aspiration

netism, and light are all based upon the undulatory mo-
tion of the particles of that finest imponderable sub-
stance, Ether, which fills all the space of the universe.
Electricity, magnetism, and light again are only different
forms of that same force which lifts our arm and which
we recognise in ourselves as conscious energy, or will.
In the Urania Institution at Berlin there is a small
dynamo which, on being set in motion with one hand,
converts the power of our arm into electric power; this
electrical power is further conducted through the spirals
of an incandescent lamp where it is converted into
illuminating power or light. When we turn the crank of
the little dynamo vigorously, the electric incandescent
lamp radiates the brightest light. The light that reaches
our eye from the most distant fixed star, from the remot-
est nebula in space, as we gaze rapt in wonder on the
star- filled heavens, is naught but the very same energy
that finds expression in our own being and existence.
Hence the words of Goethe:

"Were not the eye like to the sun,
It could not look upon his splendour.
How could the godlike raise in us delight,
Did we not to God's power surrender?" 1

The glimmer of a nebula, of a world in course of de-
velopment in the realms of endless space, bears mute
witness to the fact of our being a part of that force
which permeates the whole universe. And as we ourselves
aspire to shape our life according to a plan, and not to
leave the development of our life to the despotism of
chance, so also does that world in embryo, which appears

i " War' nicht das Auge'sonnenhaft,
Die Some konnt es nicht erblicken.
Lag' nioht in uns des Gottes cigne Kraft,
Wic konnt' uns Gottliches entziioken?"

Philosophic Aspiration 41

to our eyes merely as a tiny luminous speck in the heavens, ,
those immense masses of glowing gas, strive to assume
form and shape. The gaseous masses condense, con-
glomerate into spheres; suns and planets arise and re-
volve round one another in orbits prescribed by an im-
mutable law. But this first form is only the beginning
of a series of innumerable metamorphoses of matter and
energy. The formative impulse shows itself anew in the
generation of crystals, plants, and animals. Everything
lives and moves and presses ever onward to some higher
state of existence, to finer and still finer development
of its forms and forces. In his verses "Soul of the
Universe" (Wdtseele) Goethe gives us a poetic picture of
this unceasing transformation that goes on in ,all things,
and of the attitude of the man of genius who feels him-
self at one with all:

"Now from this hallowed feast part ye asunder,
Into all realms disperse,

And through the nearest zones in rapture wander,
To fill the universe!

Dreaming of bliss like gods, your pathway choosing
In distances remote,

In pairs among the stars new light diffusing,
Through luminous tracts ye float.

As mighty comets ever onward tending
Through far and farther space;
The maze of planets and of suns, unending,
Crosses the course ye trace.

Of worlds unformed swiftly ye take possession,
Shaping them with new force,
Supplying them with life in due progression
And regulated course.

42 Philosophic Aspiration

And circling through the air that moves unbidden.
The shifting veil unfold,

And to the stone prescribe, where it lies hidden,
Its never changing mould.

Now all things with a godlike bold ambition
T' excel each other strive;
The barren water even seeks fruition,
Bach mote becomes alive.

Then scatter ye, in generous contending,
Night's moist and vaporous gloom!
Now gleams of paradise the view unending,
In variegated bloom.

Soon rises up a multifarious legion,

To see the light so fair,

And wond'ring ye behold the blessed region,

As first-created pair.

Soon ceases then the limitless endeavour
In mutual happy glance.
With thanks ye gain the fairest life for ever,
The love that doth entrance." 1

Goethe himself writes of these verses to Zelter: "The
poem dates from the time when an overflowing youthful

1 Verteilet euch nach alien Regionen
Von diesem heil'gen Schmaus !
Begeistert reiBt euch durch die nachsten Zonen
In's All und fiillt es aus!

Schon schwebet ihr in ungeinefi'nen Fernen
Den sel'gen Gottertraum,
Und leuchtet neu, gesellig, unter Sternen
Izn lichtbesaten Baum.

Dann treibt ihr euch, gewaltige Kometen,
Li's Weit' und Weitr' hinan,
Das labyrinth der Sonnen und Planeten
Durchschneidet cure Bahn.

Philosophic Aspiration 43

courage still identified itself with the universe, and thought
to fill its space, nay, to reproduce it in its parts."

This feeling of being at one with the universe, this
finding of oneself again in all things, in the very forces of
nature, in all that lives and moves and has its being, is
highly characteristic of the philosophical mode of thought
of the man of genius. Schopenhauer has described the
manner in which genius views the essential equality of
all things in the following words: "If we consider the
phenomena of the inorganic world attentively, if we ob-
serve the strong and unceasing impulse with which the
waters hurry to the ocean, the persistency with which
the magnet turns ever to the north pole, the readiness
with which iron flies to the magnet, the eagerness with
which the electric poles seek to be re-united, and which,
just like human desire, is increased by obstacles; if we

Ihr greifet rasch nach ungeformten Erden
Und wirket schopfrisch Jung,
DaB sie belebt und stets belebter werden,
Im abgemefi'nen Schwung.

Und kreisend fiihrt ihr in bewegten Liiftcn
Den wandelbaren Flor,

Und schreibt dem Stein in alien seinen Griiften
Die festen Formen vor.

Nun alles sich mit gottlichem Erkuhnen

Zu ubertareffen strebt;

Das Wasser will, das unfmchtbare, griinen

Und jedes Staubchen lebt.

Und so verdrangt mit liebevollem Streiten

Der feucliten Qualme Nacht;

Nun gliihen sohon des Paradieses Weiten,

In iiberbunter Pracht.

Wie regt sich bald, ein holdes lacht zu schauen,
Gestaltenreicbe Schar,
Und ihr erstaunt, auf den begliiekten Aucn,
Nun als das erste Paar,

Und bald verlischt ein unbegranztes Streben
Im sel'gen Wechselblick.

Und so empfangt, mit Dank, das schonste Leben
Vom All in's All zuriick."

Philosophic Aspiration

see the crystal quickly and suddenly take form with
such wonderful regularity of construction, which is clearly
only a perfectly definite and accurately determined im-
pulse in different directions, seized and retained by crystal-
lisation; if we observe the choice with which bodies repel
and attract each other, combine and separate, when they
are set free in a fluid state and emancipated from the bonds
of rigidness; lastly, if we feel directly how a burden which
hampers our body by its gravitation towards the earth, un-
ceasingly presses and strains upon it in pursuit of its one
tendency; if we observe all this, I say, it will require no great
effort of the imagination to recognise, even at so great a dis-
tance" from the inorganic bodies "our own nature." 1

The words of Christ, "Whosoever will save his life shall
lose it: but whosoever will lose his life for my sake, the
same shall save it," are equally true in the domain of phi-
losophy. He who gives up himself, he who is quite ab-
sorbed in philosophical contemplation of the world, will
find his life again in an infinite and rich variety of forms,
in a marvellous fulness and diversity; he will find his
life again in all surrounding nature, as he will find it again
in God, that indivisible and infinite Spirit, Who pervades
and rules all nature. But he who transfers the centre of
existence to his own tiny limited person, who in his egotism
regards himself as the point round which the world re-
volves, as the most important object in all nature, robs
himself of the recognition of the marvellous wealth sur-
rounding him. Confined to his own finite, transitory per-
son, exposed to every accident and stroke of fate, his at-
titude towards all nature is that of a stranger, nay, that
of a foe, and in his anxious concern for his own frail exist-
ence, in the constant fear and care for a life that is the
only one for him, he will be incapable of recognising that

1 The World as Witt and Idea, vol. I, p. 153.

Philosophic Aspiration 45

very intimate connection which, all life, and therefore also
his own life, has with the life of nature, with the life of God.
The abandonment of self, or love, is therefore not only the
source of all beauty, but also of all wisdom and truth.

"God or Nature" Spinoza calls "that eternal and infinite
Being;" 1 and he adds: "The more we understand indi-
vidual objects, the more we understand God." 2 But
Nature is the sum of all things, the totality of all in-
dividual beings; and God is one Spirit. How can the end-
less multiplicity of things be one and the same with this
perfect, infinite, and indivisible Spirit?

It can be understood only on the assumption that God
has yielded himself up in infinite love, that he has de-
scended from the infinite fulness of his existence to take up
his abode in some tiny being, in an atom, a cell, a crystal,
a plant, or a man, lie a king disguised in the garb of a
beggar. Now, he who regards his present form as the only
one, who in his egotistical isolation considers the life of his
finite person as alone of value, resembles a king disguised
as a beggar who really believes himself to be that beggar,
and anxiously guards as his sole possession the tatters
that he has only donned for an hour's masquerade.

Truth sets us free, free from all the anxiety and misery
of our earthly being. But truth is the recognition of the fact
that the individual, the single ego does not exist separately,
is not isolated from all other existences, but that it lives
in the life of all else; that all existences are only various
forms, various gradations of that single primal existence
which we call God. God is a spirit, and a spirit has
ideas; but God's infinite wealth of ideas is identical with
the infinite wealth of ideas which reveals itself in the ob-
jects of nature. We have already seen that each thing, each

1 Ethic, p. 177. "Deum sive Naturam." 2 Id., p. 270. "Quo rnagia
res singulars intelligimus, eo magis Beuin intelligimus."

46 Philosophic Aspiration

being in the world is based on an idea, a plan according
to which it constructs and develops itself, and towards
the realisation of which it continually strives during its
entire existence, without ever wholly attaining it. These
ideas and plans that are the foundation of the marvellous
structure of all organisms, and which give direction to the
energy, the instincts, and the desires in every thing or being,
these ideas that are the essence of every object in nature are
also the ideas of the thinking spirit of God. It is for the di-
vinely gifted man, the man of genius, to recognise these
ideas in things, and so in his thoughts to follow the thoughts
of God. Hence Spinoza's statement, "The more we under-
stand individual objects, the more we understand God."

Splendid and appropriate expression has been given
by Schiller to this relation of the man of genius to the uni-
verse. In his "Philosophical Letters" he says, "All perfec-
tions in the universe are united in God. God and Nature
are two magnitudes which are quite alike. The whole
sum of harmonic activity which exists together in the
divine substance, is in Nature, which is the image of
this substance, separated into incalculable degrees, and
measures, and steps. Nature is an infinitely divided God.
Just as in the prism, a white ray of light is split up
into seven darker shades of colour, so the divine per-
sonality or Ego has been broken into countless suscep-
tible substances. As seven darker shades melt together,
through a lens, into one clear pencil of light, so out of the
union of all these substances a divine being would issue.
The existing form of nature's fabric is the optical glass, and
all the activities of spirits are only an endless play of col-
ours of that simple divine ray. If it pleased Omnipotence
some day to break up this prism, the barrier between it and
the world would fall down, all spirits would be absorbed in
one infinite spirit, all accords would flow together in one

Philosophic Aspiration 47

common harmony, all streams would find their end in
one ocean. The bodily form of nature was brought about
by the attractive force of the elements. The attrac-
tion of spirits, varied and developed infinitely, would at
length lead to the cessation of that separation or would
produce God. An attraction of this kind is love." x

All science is based on the endeavour to attain to the
final great recognition of the spiritual unity of all exist-
ing things; but without a love for nature there will be
no striving towards a recognition of nature. He who makes
a principle of self-seeking denies science and truth.

Valuable testimony to this effect has been afforded by
two thinkers who were insane enough to sing the praises
of crude self-seeking, and to cast contempt on love as a
sign of a weak and slavish disposition. Both direct their
venom also against science and truth, and both in doing
so bear witness to the fact that love and truth are one,
just as love and beauty are one, and that the subversion
of either includes that of the other. Deny love, and you
deny all knowledge.

These two thinkers who denied all disinterestedness and
self-abnegation were Max Stirner and Friedrich Nietzsche.
The former declares in his book "Z)er Einzige und sein
Eigentum" (The Individual and his Property), "If there is
really only one truth to which man must devote his life
and his powers because he is a man, then he is subject
to rule, to authority, to law, he is a bondsman. So long as
you believe in truth, you do not believe in yourself; you
are a servant, a mere religious man. Truth is dead, it is a
mere letter, a word, material to be made use of. In itself it
is worthless. Truths are phrases, expressions, words. When
in combination, marshalled in rank and file, they form
logic, science, philosophy." And Friedrich Nietzsche epit-

and PhitosopJiical Essays, p 389.

48 Philosophic Aspiration

omises all Ms wisdom in the motto of the oriental Order
of Assassins: "Nothing is true, everything is allowed." He
adds, "In sooth, that was freedom of thought, that was
taking leave of the very belief in truth." x But "all science,"
according to him, "nowadays sets out to talk man out of
his present high opinion of himself, as though that opinion
had been nothing but a bizarre piece of conceit." 2

We see from this that disinterestedness, self-abnega-
tion, just as it leads to beauty, leads also to truth, and
that no one can preach selfishness without at the same
time attacking truth and science. The inmost nature of
the disinterested man, of the man of genius, demands
philosophical endeavour, the pursuit of knowledge, science,
and truth. The philosophy of the egotist is an attempt to
sign the death-warrant of philosophy, to declare all wisdom
null and void, dead, vain, a mere toying with words.

The striving after truth or science Nietzsche seeks to
combat and make contemptible as the "ascetic ideal,"
because to him the joyful, disinterested devotion to an
impression, thought, or action cannot appear otherwise
than as robbery committed on one's own personality, as
an unwarrantable self-denial or "asceticism." "These two
phenomena," says Nietzsche, "science and the ascetic ideal,
both rest on the same basis, the basis of the same over-appre-
ciation of truth, and consequently they are necessarily allies,
so that, in the event of their being attacked, they must
always be attacked and called into question together. A
valuation of the ascetic ideal inevitably entails a valuation
of science as well. Art" in Nietzsche's sense of the
word "in which lying is sanctified and the will for de-
ception has good conscience on its side, is much more fun-
damentally opposed to the ascetic ideal than is science." 3

* The CompkteWorks, edited by 0. Levy; vol. XIII, p. 195 (The Qm&alogy
of Morals. Trans, by H. B. Samuel, 1910.) 3 Id. p. 201. s Id. p. 199.

Philosophic Aspiration 49

Away, therefore, with all striving after truth, after science,
and long life to falsehood and deception!

The absurdity of this mental attitude lies in the utter
failure to perceive that precisely what is here called "asceti-
cism" consists in joyful devotion to the cause of truth, in
the very highest concentration of our personality, the most
intense will, and the special confirmation of our innermost
selves. Is Newton, who was entirely engrossed in his
scientific pursuits and whose reply to the question how he
had arrived at his famous discoveries, was "By ceaselessly
thinking about them/' is such a man to be called an
ascetic, because his whole interest, his whole love, his
whole life were dedicated to those very things, and not
to an antisophy like that of Stirner and Nietzsche? Does
not a Newton, precisely in this intense pursuit of definite
paths in life, of definite trains of thought, show his special
disposition, is he not for this very reason completely free
and master of himself, hence utterly remote from all
asceticism, in using his life as his own strong inclination
demands ? To act freely is to act according to the laws of
one's own nature. To work out one's destiny according to
the laws of one's own nature by obeying a powerful impulse
either to search after truth or towards creative work in
the field of art or ethics, is that what asceticism means?
But for Stirner and Nietzsche, life and happiness consist
only in the most reckless assertion of the meanest egotism.
Such so-called philosophy, or rather antisophy, as well
as pseudo- naturalistic art has become quite the fashion
among men of narrow mind. However regrettable this
may be, there is nevertheless something instructive in it;
for it clearly shows how intimately man's view of earthly
concerns is connected with the natural impulses of his heart,
with his sympathy and antipathy, with his love and hate.
Schiller's beautiful poem may fitly close this chapter :

50 Philosophic Aspiration

"Lifeless masses are we, when we hate;
Gods, when we cling in love to one another,
Rejoicing in the gentle bond of love.
Upwards this divinest impulse holdeth sway
Through the thousandfold degrees of creation
Of countless spirits who did not create.

Arm-in-arm, higher and still higher,

Erom the savage to the Grecian seer,

Who is linked to the last seraph of the ring,

We turn, of one mind, in the same magic dance,

Till measure, and e'en time itself,

Sink at death in the boundless, glowing sea.

Friendless was the great world's Master;
And feeling this, He made the spirit world,
Blessed mirrors of His own blessedness!
And though the Highest found no equal,
Yet infinitude foams upward unto Him
From the vast basin of creation's realm." *

1 ^sthetical and Philosophical Essays, p. 390.

"Tote Gruppen sind wir, wenn wir hassen,
Gotter, wenn wir liebend uns umfassen,

Lechzen nach dem sufien Fesselzwang*
Auf warts durch die tausendfachen Stufen
Zahlenloser Geister, die nicht schufen,

Waltet gottlich dieser Drang.

Arm in Arme, hoher stets und hoher,
Vom Barbaren bis zum griech'schen Seher,

Der sich an den letzten Seraph reiht,
Wallen wir einmiit'gen Bingeltanzes,
Bis sich dort im Meer des ew'gen Glanzes

Sterbend untertauchen MaB tmd Zeit.

Freundlos war der grofle Weltenmeister,
Piihlte Mangel, darum schuf er Geister,

Sel'ge Spiegel seiner Seligkeit. '
ITand das hochste Wesen schon kein Gleiches
Aus dem Kelch des ganzen Wesenreiches

Schaumt ihm die Unendlichkeit. "

ni.

CONDUCT OF THE MAN OF GENIUS IN
PRACTICAL LIFE.

GENIUS can develop in three directions, corresponding
to man's threefold attitude towards the outer world
that surrounds him. For, in the first place, a man allows
the outer world to act upon his senses and imagination :
he perceives. Secondly, he inwardly digests the im-
pressions made upon him by the outer world by convert-
ing them into conceptions or ideas, and so suits them
to that picture of the world that he himself has formed
and that he carries with him in his mind: he thinks.
Lastly, on the basis of the impressions which he has re-
ceived and of the ideas into which he has converted them,
he forms resolutions and gives effect to them by bringing
about certain changes in the outer world: he acts. Sen-
sation, conception, and action continually pass into one
another, just as the conduct of the individual towards
the surrounding outer world changes continually.

If one assumes a merely perceptive or a merely recep-
tive attitude towards the impressions of the outer world,
if an impression on the senses, or on the imagination, is
all that one desires, and if this by itself suffices to cause
pleasure, there arises what we call aesthetic, artistic sen-
sation, the delight found in seeing and hearing alone. Our
senses are generally the scouts thrown out by our own

51

52 Conduct in Practical Life

interests in the service of some earnest labour or serious
need. If the activity of the senses lacks this earnest pur-
pose, such activity seems to be aimless, and becomes mere
play. When we look merely for the sake of looking,
that which we see becomes a mere spectacle to us. It
cannot, however, be truthfully said that the activity of
the senses without any practical purpose is in itself pur-
poseless, but only that it is a purpose unto itself, that it
exists for its own sake. It is on this delight in sensation
alone, in the mere reception of the impressions of the outer
world, that all beauty is based and all art; and artistic
genius is the intensified capacity for assuming a dis-
interested, objective attitude towards these impressions,
for devoting oneself to them with one's whole soul.

If a man maintains a purely thinking, comprehensive,
reflective attitude, if he tries ever further to deepen that
picture of the world which he has formed out of the most
varied ideas, to unify it and shape it into a whole, if he
tries to make the individual ideas or conceptions more and
more clear to himself, combining and harmonising them,
until he arrives at a coherent and consistent view of life,
if a man, in other words, takes an interest in knowledge
and understanding for themselves alone, and if these in
themselves suffice to cause him pleasure, then we have
what we call philosophical thinking. If we use our senses
chiefly as the scouts of our mere practical interests, our
thoughts become generally the strategists initiating the
attack on the outer world, the attainment of some prac-
tical advantage. If a man finds pleasure in reflection
and comprehension for their own sakes, his thinking ap-
parently lacks earnest purpose, it appears useless, mere
idle play. Hence the narrow-minded man with his purely
practical attitude will be just as little inclined to take a
philosopher seriously as he would an artist. But philo-

Conduct in Practical Life 53

sophical genius is based on this exclusive interest in thought
and cognition. Whoever is not absorbed in an idea with
his whole mind and soul will never grasp it. \

Now, is there also a way of acting which is an end unto
itself, just as there is purely disinterested sensation and
purely objective thinking? Certainly there is, namely
that conduct which is not dictated by a subjective, one-
sided interest, but which follows out an idea conceived
by the disinterested, objective mind. If we do a thing
with only a selfish purpose in view, it will be of little or
no importance to us how the work is executed, so long
as we derive our advantage from it. If our work does not
, interest us in itself, we shall try to get done with it as
quickly as possible, and we shall occupy ourselves with
it only in so far as is absolutely necessary for the
preservation of our existence. Compulsory work is ac-
companied by great dislike on our part and will be per-
formed as badly as possible. But to whatever extent our
work is done for its own sake, to whatever extent we are ob-
jectively interested in what we do, in so far also will every
advance, improvement and completion of our work be
attended with pleasure'. Work which in itself causes delight
is executed as perfectly as possible. If genius is synony-
mous with love, then the mode of action of the man of
genius will consist in doing what he does with all his soul,
with a complete devotion to the work itself, be it what it
may. The narrow-minded man is astonished at what is
apparently child's-play to the genius, and does not see
that it is in point of fact somewhat of the nature of play,
since the man of genius takes pleasure in the work for
itself and the actual, practical purpose falls more into the
background. Anything done merely because it gives pleas-
ure, an act performed solely for its own sake, we call
play; so that, however strange it may sound, the more

54 Conduct in Practical Life

a man's whole heart is in what he does and the more
objective, disinterested, inspired by genius a man is in
his action, the more will it acquire the nature of play,
of free activity, the aim or idea of which is centred in
itself.

The more a man, on the other hand, looks to what he
hopes to attain by his work, the pecuniary profit it may
yield, the satisfaction of his vanity, and similar ends,
the less importance will he attach to the work itself, the
greater will be the dislike combined with the performance
of it, and the more imperfectly will it be executed. Even
the convict condemned to hard labour must still take a
certain objective interest in what he is set to do, he must
be able to attach to his work some sensible meaning for
which he has an objective, disinterested sympathy, if
his aversion is not to become so unbearable a torment
that he would at once choose death rather than the
continuance of such a life.

In Dostoieffsky's celebrated "Memoirs from a House of
the Dead" occurs the following subtle passage: "It once
occurred to me that, if one desired to stifle and destroy
a man completely, to inflict upon him so terrible a punish-
ment that even the most dreadful murderer would shud-
der and shrink from the idea of it, nothing more would
be required than to deprive his work, entirely and ab-
solutely, of any purpose and meaning. Although the
present hard labour is uninteresting and tedious to the
convict, yet in itself, as labour, it is not meaningless; the
convict makes bricks, digs up land, is employed as mason
and builder; in such work there is meaning and purpose.
The convict is even occasionally interested in it, he desires
to work more skilfully, more quickly and better. But if
he were ordered, for instance, to pour water from one
tub into another and back again, or to pound sand, or

Conduct in Practical Life 55

/

to carry a load of earth from one place to another and
back again, I believe that the convict after a few days
would strangle himself, or commit a thousand crimes solely
in order to find death and an escape from such humilia-
tion, disgrace, and torment."

The conclusion from this is that even the highest prac-
tical achievements of men of genius are founded only on
an intensification of that capacity which exists in every
human heart even though in various degrees, the capac-
ity, namely, of preserving an objective, disinterested
attitude towards one's own actions, in such a manner
as to take pleasure in the work as such apart from the
expectation of any use, advantage, or disadvantage to
onesel^fln proportion to the intensity of this capacity,
the pleasure in the action itself, the energy with which
the work is entered upon, the perseverance shown in its
execution, and the prospect of a satisfactory result, are
increased.

The greater the interest in the work itself, the greater
also the interest in its perfect accomplishment. On
what then is the excellence of a piece of work in general
founded? All labour, all action, is based upon a more
or less sensible purpose or idea. Now, the more com-
pletely the action answers this sensible purpose, the more
sensible this purpose itself is and the more perfect the idea
of the work, the higher also will be its excellence and
perfection. The more a man is inspired by genius, the
more will he be ready to sink himself in his work and
to impress upon it an increasingly perfect character by
adapting it to a more and more sensible purpose, a more
and more perfect idea.

But on what is the greater or lesser perfection of an
idea founded, on what the greater or lesser rationality
of the purpose? It is founded in the first place on its

Conduct in Practical Life

greater complexity, its finer development, and its fuller
purport, and secondly, on its more comprehensive and
general meaning. For instance, when a child at play piles
up stones to build something, the idea of what it wishes
to build is firstly only a quite indefinite, blurred, and
vague fancy, in which there can be no question either of
a fixed plan, or of any distinct order or arrangement;
in the second place the child's uncertain, vague idea
conveys no meaning at all. No one takes an interest in
it except the child, and the child only for the time being.
It soon grows tired of the game and throws away the
stones. Nevertheless there can be no doubt that, in spite
of the great vagueness and slight meaning in the idea on
which the child's play is founded, that character of men-
tal impartiality is already present, that character of free-
dom from any self-seeking purpose which gives the pro-
ductions of men of high genius the sublime stamp of divine
and unconstrained creative force.

This kinship of the child's unbiassedness in its play
with the character and creative work of men of genius,
has been repeatedly emphasised by great philosophers.
Schopenhauer says on this matter: "Really every child
is to a certain extent a genius, and the genius is to a certain
extent a child. The relationship of the two shows itself
primarily in the naivete and sublime simplicity which is
characteristic of true genius; and besides this it appears
in several traits, so that a certain childishness certainly
belongs to the character of the genius. In Riemer's *Mit-
teilungen uber Goethe* (Communications concerning Goethe)
(vol. I, p. 184) it is related that Herder and others found
fault with Goethe, saying he was always a big child.
Certainly they were right in what they said, but they
were not right in finding fault with it. It has also been
said of Mozart that all his life he remained a child (Nissen's

Conduct in Practical Life ' 57

Biography of Mozart, p. 2 and 529). SchlichtegrolTs
'NeJcrokgy* (for 1791, vol. II. p. 109) says of him: In his
art he early became a man, but in all other relations he
always remained a child. 3 Every genius is a big child for
the very reason that he looks out upon the world as upon
something strange, a play, and therefore with purely
objective interest. Accordingly he has just as little as
the child that dull gravity of ordinary men, who, since
they are capable only of subjective interests, always see
in things mere motives for their action. Whoever does
not to a certain extent remain all his life a big child,
but becomes a grave, sober, thoroughly composed, and
reasonable man, may be a very useful and capable citizen
of this world; but never a genius. In fact, the genius is
such because that predominance of the sensible system
and of intellectual activity which is natural to childhood
maintains itself in him in an abnormal manner through-
out his whole life, and thus becomes perennial. A trace
of this certainly shows itself in many ordinary men up
to the period of their youth; therefore, for example,
a purely intellectual tendency and an eccentricity sug-
gestive of genius is unmistakable in many students. But "
nature returns to her track; they assume the chrysalis
form and reappear at the age of manhood, as incarnate
Philistines, at whom we are startled when we meet them
again in later years. Upon all this that has been expound-
ed here depends Goethe's beautiful remark: 'Children
do not perform what they promise; young people very
seldom; and if they do keep their word, the world does
not keep its word with them' (WaMverwandtschaften,
Pt. I, ch. 10) ... In accordance with what has been
said, as there is a mere beauty of youth, which almost
everyone at some time possesses (beaute du didble), so
there is a mere intellectuality of youth, a certain mental

58 Conduct in Practical Life

nature disposed and adapted for apprehending, under-
standing, and learning, which everyone has in childhood,
and some have still in youth, but which is afterwards
lost, just like that beauty. Only in the case of a very
few, the chosen, the one, like the other, lasts through the
whole of life; so that even in old age a trace of it still re-
mains visible: these are the truly beautiful and the men
of true genius." 1

In my short essay on "Das Wesen des Genies" publish-
ed in 1888, I attempted to explain the deeper connection
between the nature of the child and that of the man of
genius as follows: "God is freedom absolute; the man of
genius, created in His image, is as free as G-od; he is born
to rule. Now, only the free, the unmoved man can rule,
not he who himself is moved, drawn hither and thither,
now attracted and then again repelled. But such de-
pendence, such lack of freedom, sets in as soon as the
mind attaches an absolute value to outward things and
relations for the individual self, and consequently takes
relations with the outer world seriously, that is, distin-
guishes between good and evil in a narrow-minded, self-
seeking manner. The mind is then attracted by what
it regards as absolutely good for and advantageous to
the individual self, and is repelled by that which, regarded
from the same standpoint, it considers bad and disad-
vantageous, and thus, instead of standing unmoved in
the centre of things, and ruling from this point all that
lies around it, the mind will be drawn into the dizzy
whirlpool of self-seeking worldly relations, and will lose
both itself and its likeness to God; for this likeness is
based exclusively on the mind's inward freedom from
conditions, and from every paltry and self-seeking in-
terest. This is the fall of man, which begins with his

i The World as Will and Idea, vol. Ill, p. 163-4.

Conduct in Practical Life 59

eating of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil,
the knowledge of that which is to his own personal
advantage or disadvantage, that is, which begins
with his passing from the condition of childhood
into that of the adult, who stands towards the outer
world in fixed relations that serve his own self-seeking
purposes.

"But man recovers his likeness to God, his inner free-
dom when he once more becomes like a child, entirely
regardless of self -interest. In answer to the question of
His disciples, who was the greatest in the kingdom of
heaven, Christ called a little child unto Him, and set it
in the midst of them, and said: 'Verily I say unto you,
except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye
shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.' A child is
distinguished in its nature from a grown-up man princi-
pally by the fact that, though outwardly it is weak and
dependent, in its soul it is still free, because it does not
yet take its own relations to this world seriously, be-
cause it does not yet distinguish unconditionally between
what is good and what is bad for its own individual self,
and because it resembles God in being inwardly free and
unhampered by outward relations. Hence Christ also
says of children: 'Their angels do always behold the face
of my Father which is in heaven, 3 that is, the nature
of the child stands in direct relation to the nature of
God. The child only plays with things, it does not yet
fetter its soul with definite relations, its soul is unrelated
to outside things, it is free, bearing the image of God,
it is still an end unto itself, it has an existence for itself,
and therefore enjoys the blessedness and gaiety of the
childish heart. Become a child again, break the bonds
of those fixed relations which serve your selfishness,
those bonds and fetters which hold down your eternal

60 Conduct in Practical Life

soul to finite things, and you will regain your paradise,
the paradise that you vainly sought for in the things of
the outer world.

"The man of genius is a grown-up child. It is inherent
in his nature to hold fast to what for others is only a
transition period in their journey to an unhappy, hurried,
pitiful life without dignity and worth of any nobler kind.
When the man of genius attempts to follow the example
of these others, he soon feels the misery of this state so
keenly that he works his way back to his former point
of view, and then develops an activity apparently similar
to that of other men, but in which his inspired nature
inwardly assumes a totally different attitude towards what
he does or leaves undone, his actions being in truth only
play, having no reference to his own individual self, whereas
other people are clumsily and ridiculously in earnest about
their own petty existence, an existence at the mercy of any
and every accident^ Hence the calm and great courage of
the man of genius, his clear and unprejudiced outlook,
his extraordinary boldness combined with the greatest
coolness, his irresistible advance along the path he has
once traced out for himself. He shatters and builds up
empires with the same composure and calmness of mind
with which the child takes his toys to pieces and. puts
them together again; he simply does not confound his
soul with the object of his activity; what he does is done
freely, it is play."

Schiller also, in his "Letters on the jEsthetical Edu-
cation of Man," refers explicitly to the deeper signif-
icance of play: "For, to speak out once for all, man
only plays when in the full meaning of the word he is
a man, and he is only completely a man when he plays.
This proposition, which*at this moment perhaps appears
paradoxical, will receive a great and deep meaning, if

Conduct in Practical Life 61

we have advanced far enough to apply it to the twofold
seriousness of duty and of destiny. I promise you that the
whole edifice of aesthetic art and the still more difficult
art of life will be supported by this principle.'* *

To return to the point from which we started, we said
that the perfection of an idea lying at the root of any
action depends in the first place on the degree of its
complexity, on its inner development, arrangement and
order, and secondly, on the greater or smaller extent
of its significance. When a child heaps up stones in
order to build something, in the first place, the idea
that underlies this action is a perfectly vague and misty
one, without inner arrangement or order, and, secondly,
the child's action has a meaning only for the child itself,
and even this meaning is only a fleeting one. But how-
ever vague and insignificant the child's idea of what it
wishes to build may be, the idea that has sprung up in
the child's own mind is yet its only standard while it is
busy building. In its play it follows only its own incli-
nation, it acts freely, the mere action in itself causes it
pleasure, and it attaches to it no self-seeking and ul-
terior purpose.

On a much higher plane of perfection stands the funda-
mental idea of any form of sport. For here, in the first
place, are represented quite definite objects, which are to
be attained by the development of one's physical powers,
and secondly, the attention of anyone who occupies him-
self with sport is claimed by it both permanently and in-
tensely. The idea, however, on which any kind of sport
is based is naturally of no great or wide significance.
Whether Oxford or Cambridge win the Boat Eace this
year is, after all, of infinitesimal importance in the
making of the world's history. 4 But the pleasure with

i.JEtsthetical and Philosophical Essays, p. 71.

62 Conduct in Practical Life

which any kind of sport is gone in for is founded on the
fact that every sport is pursued for its own sake, that
here the action in itself contains its purpose and idea.
And hand in hand with this goes the ever -increasing
degree of perfection in all forms of sport.VWhatever one
enters on lovingly, with all one's heart and soul, must
succeed. It is interesting to note that the greatest improve-
ments that have taken place in shipbuilding in recent times
are to be ascribed to the development of yachting.

s On a higher plane than that of mere sport stands,
of course, any practical occupation in life, because here,
directly .or indirectly, the weal or woe of a greater or lesser
number of people is frequently affected, and because, as
a result of the many circumstances demanding consider-
ation in connection with it, the complexity of the idea
on which the action is based becomes much greater. Who-
ever is a good sportsman, or a fine horseman, for instance,
is far from having thereby proved his capacity to rule a

-people. iBut (what may sound quite paradoxical and yet
is entirely in accordance with truth), every practical oc-
cupation in life can attain a high degree of perfection
only when it is pursued as a game, a sport, with a love
for the pursuit itself, without petty regard for oneself or
for individuals and things that are extraneous to the plan
or the idea to be realised.

Let us take, for instance, the work of a ruler, who
stands in a thousand different relations to a great state
of which he is the central figure. The idea that he has
to realise, namely, the well-being and prosperity of that
state, is an idea at once of the greatest complexity .and
of the greatest and widest significance, concerning as it
does on the one hand the infinitely manifold functions
of the state's vast organism, and on the other the weal
and woe of perhaps many millions of human beings.

Conduct in Practical Life 63

In what manner can the ruler most readily attain his
object and realise most completely the idea on which
his work is based? Evidently by taking the deepest
possible interest in the rational aim of his activity, in
the idea on which his actions are based, the well-being
of the state itself, and by making this his highest standard
of conduct, his first law. then he looks upon all his
duties as play to which body and soul are devoted with
undivided attention, without wishing to extract from it
any petty advantage for himself and unswayed by self-
interested motives, he will do everything that is in any
way calculated to promote the object and to realise the
idea.

Now, since the idea of the well-being of the state is
one of infinite complexity, as it must be in view of the
immense variety in the functions of state-organism and
in the people's interests, it is impossible for any single
individual to master it in all its bearings, in all its most
minute and separate details. He needs to have under
him a number of capable and unusually gifted officials
who devote themselves to separate branches of the ad-
ministration, who thoroughly know and love their work
and in consequence are able to perform it with particular
success. And these individuals again will require others
to assist them, and so on. The greater the love the
ruler himself has for his task and the greater the ob-
jectivity and disinterestedness with which he aims only
at the realisation of his idea, the more congenial will
those men be to him who, like himself, perform their
duties with pleasure and liking, whose whole minds are
given to their work, who regard their profession as an
art and who, creative and rich in new ideas, are con-
stantly discovering new ways and means of achieving
their aims. Such a ruler with such servants can perform

64 Conduct in Practical Life

great things, and his name is handed down to posterity
as that of a great man.

A very different picture is presented to us when the
ruler's main motive is not love for his work, but love of
the advantages accruing to himself from it, that is, when
his work is no longer play in the higher sense of the
word, but bitter and sober earnest.

Let us suppose, for instance, the case of a ruler who
has set his mind on satisfying his personal vanity, on ex-
hibiting his power, on making himself admired and feared,
on parading his various talents, like the Roman emperor
Nero, who even appeared on the stage as a singer and had
himself applauded. Is such a ruler likely to be disin-
terestedly absorbed in the welfare of his people, indifferent
as to his own personal advantage ? Will he, like Frederick
the Great, be disposed to declare himself merely the first
servant of the state? On the contrary, his individual
profit and the satisfaction of his personal vanity will be
matters of chief importance to him. The aim of his
actions will consequently not lie in the actions them-
selves, and hence there can be no question of a real
absorption in an idea which is the basis of his practical
activity. Everything, rather, will be treated as super-
ficially as possible, only the surface skimmed, so to speak,
and on the whole those things placed in the foreground
and emphasised, which are calculated to make the man
himself most conspicuous. People who thoroughly un-
derstand their business and delight in it, will naturally
be objects of detestation to such a ruler. Their success
will wound his vanity, their wealth of ideas confuse and
vex him and seem useless ballast to him, their inde-
pendence and initiative appear as encroachments on his
power. In short, only those people will be congenial to him
who, like himself, do their work in a dilettante fashion,

Conduct in Practical Life 65

and consequently remain open to personal influences,
who therefore take no delight in their work for its own
sake, but do it only with a view to personal advantage
or because ordered to. Such rulers as a matter of course
fail in the true object of their calling, which is the well-
being of the state, since their hearts are set on quite
different things. And fame, the very thing they are in pur-
suit of, eludes them. Their egotism itself defeats them.

"In general," says Schopenhauer, "he only is great
who in his work, whether it is practical or theoretical,
seeks not his own concerns, but pursues an objective end
alone; he is so, however, even when in the practical
sphere this end is a misunderstood one, and even if in
consequence of this it should be a crime. That he seeks
not himself and his own concerns, this makes him under
all circumstances great. Small, on the other hand, is all
action which is directed to personal ends; for whoever is
thereby set in activity knows and finds himself only in
his own transient and insignificant person. He who is
great, again, finds himself in all, and therefore in the
whole: he lives not, like others, only in the microcosm,
but still more in the macrocosm. Hence the whole inter-
ests him, and he seeks to comprehend it in order to re-
present it, or to explain it, or to act practically upon it.
For it is not strange to him; he feels that it concerns him.
On account of this extension of his sphere he is called
great. Therefore that lofty predicate belongs only to the
true hero, in some sense, and to genius: it signifies that
they, contrary to human nature, have not sought their own
things, have not lived for themselves, but for all." x

Directly opposed to this opinion are the two before-
mentioned "antisophers," Nietzsche and Stirner. In bril-
liant language, with the passion characteristic of men

1 The World as Will and Idea, vol. Ill, p. 150.

E

66 Conduct m Practical Life

possessed with a fixed idea, both direct their polemics
against every kind of subordination to any great idea