German philosophers have as a rule been utterly indifferent to
style, but Schopenhauer’s prose is clear, firm and graceful, and
to this fact he owes much of his popularity.—_Sime._
Our inductive science ends with the questions—“Whence?” “Wherefore?” We
observe facts, and classify them; but then follows a question respecting
the substance that lies behind the facts? What do they express? What is
the Will of which they are the Representation?—If we were isolated from
the world around us, we could not answer the question. But we are not so
isolated. We belong to nature, and nature is included in ourselves. We
have in ourselves the laws of the world around us. We find in our own
bodies the mechanical laws, and those of the organic life manifested in
plants and animals. We have the same understanding which we find working
around us in the system of nature. If we consisted only of the body and
the understanding, we could not distinguish ourselves from nature. If
we know what is in ourselves, we know what is in nature. Now what do we
find controlling the facts of our own natural life? An impulse which we
may call the Will to live. We often use the word Will in a complex sense,
as implying both thought and choice; but in its purest, simplest sense,
as the word is used here, it means the impulse, or force, which is the
cause of a phenomenon. In this sense, there is a Will from which the
movements within the earth and upon its surface derive their origin. It
works continuously upward from the forms of crystals, through the forms
of zoöphytes, mollusca, annelida, insectia, arachnida, crustacea, pisces,
reptilia, aves, and mammalia. There is one Will manifested in the growth
of all plants and animals. That which we call a purpose when viewed as
associated with intellect, is, when regarded most simply, or in itself,
a force or impulse—the natural Will of which we are now speaking. It is
the Will to live—the mighty impulse by which every creature is impelled
to maintain its own existence, and without any care for the existence of
others. It is an unconscious Egoism. Nature is apparently a collection of
many wills; but all are reducible to one—the Will to live. Its whole life
is a never-ending warfare. It is forever at strife _with itself_; for it
asserts itself in one form to deny itself as asserted in other forms. It
is everywhere furnished with the means of working out its purpose. Where
the Will of the lion is found, we find the powerful limbs, the claws,
the teeth necessary for supporting the life to which the animal is urged
by his Will. The Will is found associated in man with an understanding;
but is not subservient to that understanding. On the contrary, the
understanding or intellect is subservient. The Will is the moving power;
the understanding is the instrument.
This one Will in nature and in ourselves serves to explain a great part
of all the movements of human society. Hence arise the collisions of
interest that excite envy, strife, and hatred between individuals or
classes. Society differs from an unsocial state of life in the forms
imposed by intelligence on egoistic Will, but not in any radical change
made in that Will. Thus etiquette is the convenience of egoism, and law
is a fixing of boundaries within which egoism may conveniently pursue
its objects. The world around us, including what is called the social
or civilized world, may seem fair, when it is viewed only as a stage,
and without any reference to the tragedy that is acted upon it. But,
viewed in its reality, it is an arena for gladiators, or an amphitheater
where all who would be at peace have to defend themselves. As Voltaire
says, it is with sword in hand that we must live and die. The man who
expects to find peace and safety here is like the traveler told of in
one of Gracian’s stories, who, entering a district where he hoped to
meet his fellow-men, found it peopled only by wolves and bears, while
men had escaped to caves in a neighboring forest. The same egoistic Will
that manifests itself dimly in the lowest stages of life, and becomes
more and more clearly pronounced as we ascend to creatures of higher
organization, attains its highest energy in man, and is here modified,
but not essentially changed, by a superior intelligence. The insect world
is full of slaughter; the sea hides from us frightful scenes of cruel
rapacity; the tyrannical and destructive instinct marks the so-called
king of birds, and rages in the feline tribes. In human society, some
mitigation of this strife takes place as the result of experience and
culture. By the use of the understanding, the Will makes laws for itself,
so that the natural _bellum omnium contra omnes_ is modified, and leaves
to the few victors some opportunities of enjoying the results of their
victory. Law is a means of reducing the evils of social strife to their
most convenient form, and politics must be regarded in the same way. The
strength of all law and government lies in our dread of the anarchic
Will, that lies couched behind the barriers of society and is ready to
spring forth when they are broken down.