From the first appearance of consciousness, a man finds himself a willing

being, and as a rule, his knowledge remains in constant relation to his

will. He first seeks to know thoroughly the objects of his desire, and

then the means of attaining them. Now he knows what he has to do, and, as

a rule, he does not strive after other knowledge. He moves and acts; his

consciousness keeps him always working directly and actively towards the

aims of his will; his thought is concerned with the choice of motives.

Such is life for almost all men; they wish, they know what they wish, and

they strive after it, with sufficient success to keep them from despair,

and sufficient failure to keep them from ennui and its consequences. From

this proceeds a certain serenity, or at least indifference, which cannot

be affected by wealth or poverty; for the rich and the poor do not enjoy

what they have, for this, as we have shown, acts in a purely negative way,

but what they hope to attain to by their efforts. They press forward with

much earnestness, and indeed with an air of importance; thus children also

pursue their play. It is always an exception if such a life suffers

interruption from the fact that either the æsthetic demand for

contemplation or the ethical demand for renunciation proceed from a

knowledge which is independent of the service of the will, and directed to

the nature of the world in general. Most men are pursued by want all

through life, without ever being allowed to come to their senses. On the

other hand, the will is often inflamed to a degree that far transcends the

assertion of the body, and then violent emotions and powerful passions

show themselves, in which the individual not only asserts his own

existence, but denies and seeks to suppress that of others when it stands

in his way.

The maintenance of the body through its own powers is so small a degree of

the assertion of will, that if it voluntarily remains at this degree, we

might assume that, with the death of this body, the will also which

appeared in it would be extinguished. But even the satisfaction of the

sexual passions goes beyond the assertion of one’s own existence, which

fills so short a time, and asserts life for an indefinite time after the

death of the individual. Nature, always true and consistent, here even

naïve, exhibits to us openly the inner significance of the act of

generation. Our own consciousness, the intensity of the impulse, teaches

us that in this act the most decided _assertion of the will to live_

expresses itself, pure and without further addition (any denial of other

individuals); and now, as the consequence of this act, a new life appears

in time and the causal series, _i.e._, in nature; the begotten appears

before the begetter, different as regards the phenomenon, but in himself,

_i.e._, according to the Idea, identical with him. Therefore it is this

act through which every species of living creature binds itself to a whole

and is perpetuated. Generation is, with reference to the begetter, only

the expression, the symptom, of his decided assertion of the will to live:

with reference to the begotten, it is not the cause of the will which

appears in him, for the will in itself knows neither cause nor effect,

but, like all causes, it is merely the occasional cause of the phenomenal

appearance of this will at this time in this place. As thing-in-itself,

the will of the begetter and that of the begotten are not different, for

only the phenomenon, not the thing-in-itself, is subordinate to the

_principim individuationis_. With that assertion beyond our own body and

extending to the production of a new body, suffering and death, as

belonging to the phenomenon of life, have also been asserted anew, and the

possibility of salvation, introduced by the completest capability of

knowledge, has for this time been shown to be fruitless. Here lies the

profound reason of the shame connected with the process of generation.

This view is mythically expressed in the dogma of Christian theology that

we are all partakers in Adam’s first transgression (which is clearly just

the satisfaction of sexual passion), and through it are guilty of

suffering and death. In this theology goes beyond the consideration of

things according to the principle of sufficient reason, and recognises the

Idea of man, the unity of which is re-established out of its dispersion

into innumerable individuals through the bond of generation which holds

them all together. Accordingly it regards every individual as on one side

identical with Adam, the representative of the assertion of life, and, so

far, as subject to sin (original sin), suffering, and death; on the other

side, the knowledge of the Idea of man enables it to regard every

individual as identical with the saviour, the representative of the denial

of the will to live, and, so far as a partaker of his sacrifice of

himself, saved through his merits, and delivered from the bands of sin and

death, _i.e._, the world (Rom. v. 12-21).

Another mythical exposition of our view of sexual pleasure as the

assertion of the will to live beyond the individual life, as an attainment

to life which is brought about for the first time by this means, or as it

were a renewed assignment of life, is the Greek myth of Proserpine, who

might return from the lower world so long as she had not tasted its fruit,

but who became subject to it altogether through eating the pomegranate.

This meaning appears very clearly in Goethe’s incomparable presentation of

this myth, especially when, as soon as she has tasted the pomegranate, the

invisible chorus of the Fates—

“Thou art ours!

Fasting shouldest thou return:

And the bite of the apple makes thee ours!”

It is worth noticing that Clement of Alexandria (Strom. iii. c. 15)

illustrates the matter with the same image and the same expression: Οἱ μεν

ευνουχισαντες ἑαυτους απο πασης ἁμαρτιας, δια την βασιλειαν, των ουρανων,

μακαριοι οὑτοι εισιν, οἱ του κοσμου νηστευοντες; (_Qui se castrarunt ab

omni peccato propter regnum cœlorum, ii sunt beati, a mundo jejunantes_).

The sexual impulse also proves itself the decided and strongest assertion

of life by the fact that to man in a state of nature, as to the brutes, it

is the final end, the highest goal of life. Self-maintenance is his first

effort, and as soon as he has made provision for that, he only strives

after the propagation of the species: as a merely natural being he can

attempt no more. Nature also, the inner being of which is the will to live

itself, impels with all her power both man and the brute towards

propagation. Then it has attained its end with the individual, and is

quite indifferent to its death, for, as the will to live, it cares only

for the preservation of the species, the individual is nothing to it.

Because the will to live expresses itself most strongly in the sexual

impulse, the inner being of nature, the old poets and philosophers—Hesiod

and Parmenides—said very significantly that Eros is the first, the

creator, the principle from which all things proceed. (Cf. Arist. Metaph.,

i. 4.) Pherecydes said: Εις ερωτα μεταβεβλησθαι τον Δια, μελλοντα

δημιουργειν (_Jovem, cum mundum fabricare vellet, in cupidinem sese

transformasse_). _Proclus ad Plat. Tim._, l. iii. A complete treatment of

this subject we have recently received from G. F. Schœmann, “_De Cupidine

Cosmogonico_,” 1852. The Mâya of the Hindus, whose work and web is the

whole world of illusion, is also symbolised by love.

The genital organs are, far more than any other external member of the

body, subject merely to the will, and not at all to knowledge. Indeed, the

will shows itself here almost as independent of knowledge, as in those

parts which, acting merely in consequence of stimuli, are subservient to

vegetative life and reproduction, in which the will works blindly as in

unconscious nature. For generation is only reproduction passing over to a

new individual, as it were reproduction at the second power, as death is

only excretion at the second power. According to all this, the genitals

are properly the _focus_ of will, and consequently the opposite pole of

the brain, the representative of knowledge, _i.e._, the other side of the

world, the world as idea. The former are the life-sustaining principle

ensuring endless life to time. In this respect they were worshipped by the

Greeks in the _phallus_, and by the Hindus in the _lingam_, which are thus

the symbol of the assertion of the will. Knowledge, on the other hand,

affords the possibility of the suppression of willing, of salvation

through freedom, of conquest and annihilation of the world.

We already considered fully at the beginning of this Fourth Book how the

will to live in its assertion must regard its relation to death. We saw

that death does not trouble it, because it exists as something included in

life itself and belonging to it. Its opposite, generation, completely

counterbalances it; and, in spite of the death of the individual, ensures

and guarantees life to the will to live through all time. To express this

the Hindus made the _lingam_ an attribute of Siva, the god of death. We

also fully explained there how he who with full consciousness occupies the

standpoint of the decided assertion of life awaits death without fear. We

shall therefore say nothing more about this here. Without clear

consciousness most men occupy this standpoint and continually assert life.

The world exists as the mirror of this assertion, with innumerable

individuals in infinite time and space, in infinite suffering, between

generation and death without end. Yet from no side is a complaint to be

further raised about this; for the will conducts the great tragedy and

comedy at its own expense, and is also its own spectator. The world is

just what it is because the will, whose manifestation it is, is what it

is, because it so wills. The justification of suffering is, that in this

phenomenon also the will asserts itself; and this assertion is justified

and balanced by the fact that the will bears the suffering. Here we get a

glimpse of _eternal justice_ in the whole: we shall recognise it later

more definitely and distinctly, and also in the particular. But first we

must consider temporal or human justice.(73)

§ 61. It may be remembered from the Second Book that in the whole of

nature, at all the grades of the objectification of will, there was a

necessary and constant conflict between the individuals of all species;

and in this way was expressed the inner contradiction of the will to live

with itself. At the highest grade of the objectification, this phenomenon,

like all others, will exhibit itself with greater distinctness, and will

therefore be more easily explained. With this aim we shall next attempt to

trace the source of _egoism_ as the starting-point of all conflict.

We have called time and space the _principium individuationis_, because

only through them and in them is multiplicity of the homogeneous possible.

They are the essential forms of natural knowledge, _i.e._, knowledge

springing from the will. Therefore the will everywhere manifests itself in

the multiplicity of individuals. But this multiplicity does not concern

the will as thing-in-itself, but only its phenomena. The will itself is

present, whole and undivided, in every one of these, and beholds around it

the innumerably repeated image of its own nature; but this nature itself,

the actually real, it finds directly only in its inner self. Therefore

every one desires everything for himself, desires to possess, or at least

to control, everything, and whatever opposes it it would like to destroy.

To this is added, in the case of such beings as have knowledge, that the

individual is the supporter of the knowing subject, and the knowing

subject is the supporter of the world, _i.e._, that the whole of Nature

outside the knowing subject, and thus also all other individuals, exist

only in its idea; it is only conscious of them as its idea, thus merely

indirectly as something which is dependent on its own nature and

existence; for with its consciousness the world necessarily disappears for

it, _i.e._, its being and non-being become synonymous and

indistinguishable. Every knowing individual is thus in truth, and finds

itself as the whole will to live, or the inner being of the world itself,

and also as the complemental condition of the world as idea, consequently

as a microcosm which is of equal value with the macrocosm. Nature itself,

which is everywhere and always truthful, gives him this knowledge,

originally and independently of all reflection, with simple and direct

certainty. Now from these two necessary properties we have given the fact

may be explained that every individual, though vanishing altogether and

diminished to nothing in the boundless world, yet makes itself the centre

of the world, has regard for its own existence and well-being before

everything else; indeed, from the natural standpoint, is ready to

sacrifice everything else for this—is ready to annihilate the world in

order to maintain its own self, this drop in the ocean, a little longer.

This disposition is _egoism_, which is essential to everything in Nature.

Yet it is just through egoism that the inner conflict of the will with

itself attains to such a terrible revelation; for this egoism has its

continuance and being in that opposition of the microcosm and macrocosm,

or in the fact that the objectification of will has the _principium

individuationis_ for its form, through which the will manifests itself in

the same way in innumerable individuals, and indeed entire and completely

in both aspects (will and idea) in each. Thus, while each individual is

given to itself directly as the whole will and the whole subject of ideas,

other individuals are only given it as ideas. Therefore its own being, and

the maintenance of it, is of more importance to it than that of all others

together. Every one looks upon his own death as upon the end of the world,

while he accepts the death of his acquaintances as a matter of comparative

indifference, if he is not in some way affected by it. In the

consciousness that has reached the highest grade, that of man, egoism, as

well as knowledge, pain and pleasure, must have reached its highest grade

also, and the conflict of individuals which is conditioned by it must

appear in its most terrible form. And indeed we see this everywhere before

our eyes, in small things as in great. Now we see its terrible side in the

lives of great tyrants and miscreants, and in world-desolating wars; now

its absurd side, in which it is the theme of comedy, and very specially

appears as self-conceit and vanity. Rochefoucault understood this better

than any one else, and presented it in the abstract. We see it both in the

history of the world and in our own experience. But it appears most

distinctly of all when any mob of men is set free from all law and order;

then there shows itself at once in the distinctest form the _bellum omnium

contra omnes_, which Hobbes has so admirably described in the first

chapter _De Cive_. We see not only how every one tries to seize from the

other what he wants himself, but how often one will destroy the whole

happiness or life of another for the sake of an insignificant addition to

his own happiness. This is the highest expression of egoism, the

manifestations of which in this regard are only surpassed by those of

actual wickedness, which seeks, quite disinterestedly, the hurt and

suffering of others, without any advantage to itself. Of this we shall

speak soon. With this exhibition of the source of egoism the reader should

compare the presentation of it in my prize-essay on the basis of morals, §

14.

A chief source of that suffering which we found above to be essential and

inevitable to all life is, when it really appears in a definite form, that

_Eris_, the conflict of all individuals, the expression of the

contradiction, with which the will to live is affected in its inner self,

and which attains a visible form through the _principium individuationis_.

Wild-beast fights are the most cruel means of showing this directly and

vividly. In this original discord lies an unquenchable source of

suffering, in spite of the precautions that have been taken against it,

and which we shall now consider more closely.

§ 62. It has already been explained that the first and simplest assertion

of the will to live is only the assertion of one’s own body, _i.e._, the

exhibition of the will through acts in time, so far as the body, in its

form and design, exhibits the same will in space, and no further. This

assertion shows itself as maintenance of the body, by means of the

application of its own powers. To it is directly related the satisfaction

of the sexual impulse; indeed this belongs to it, because the genitals

belong to the body. Therefore _voluntary_ renunciation of the satisfaction

of that impulse, based upon no _motive_, is already a denial of the will

to live, is a voluntary self-suppression of it, upon the entrance of

knowledge which acts as a _quieter_. Accordingly such denial of one’s own

body exhibits itself as a contradiction by the will of its own phenomenon.

For although here also the body objectifies in the genitals the will to

perpetuate the species, yet this is not willed. Just on this account,

because it is a denial or suppression of the will to live, such a

renunciation is a hard and painful self-conquest; but of this later. But

since the will exhibits that _self-assertion_ of one’s own body in

innumerable individuals beside each other, it very easily extends in one

individual, on account of the egoism peculiar to them all, beyond this

assertion to the _denial_ of the same will appearing in another

individual. The will of the first breaks through the limits of the

assertion of will of another, because the individual either destroys or

injures this other body itself, or else because it compels the powers of

the other body to serve _its own_ will, instead of the will which

manifests itself in that other body. Thus if, from the will manifesting

itself as another body, it withdraws the powers of this body, and so

increases the power serving its own will beyond that of its own body, it

consequently asserts its own will beyond its own body by means of the

negation of the will appearing in another body. This breaking through the

limits of the assertion of will of another has always been distinctly

recognised, and its concept denoted by the word _wrong_. For both sides

recognise the fact instantly, not, indeed, as we do here in distinct

abstraction, but as feeling. He who suffers wrong feels the transgression

into the sphere of the assertion of his own body, through the denial of it

by another individual, as a direct and mental pain which is entirely

separated and different from the accompanying physical suffering

experienced from the act or the vexation at the loss. To the doer of

wrong, on the other hand, the knowledge presents itself that he is in

himself the same will which appears in that body also, and which asserts

itself with such vehemence; the one phenomenon that, transgressing the

limits of its own body and its powers, it extends to the denial of this

very will in another phenomenon, and so, regarded as will in itself, it

strives against itself by this vehemence and rends itself. Moreover, this

knowledge presents itself to him instantly, not _in abstracto_, but as an

obscure feeling; and this is called remorse, or, more accurately in this

case, the feeling of _wrong committed_.

_Wrong_, the conception of which we have thus analysed in its most general

and abstract form, expresses itself in the concrete most completely,

peculiarly, and palpably in cannibalism. This is its most distinct and

evident type, the terrible picture of the greatest conflict of the will

with itself at the highest grade of its objectification, which is man.

Next to this, it expresses itself most distinctly in murder; and therefore

the committal of murder is followed instantly and with fearful

distinctness by remorse, the abstract and dry significance of which we

have just given, which inflicts a wound on our peace of mind that a

lifetime cannot heal. For our horror at the murder committed, as also our

shrinking from the committal of it, corresponds to that infinite clinging

to life with which everything living, as phenomenon of the will to live,

is penetrated. (We shall analyse this feeling which accompanies the doing

of wrong and evil, in other words, the pangs of conscience, more fully

later on, and raise its concept to distinctness.) Mutilation, or mere

injury of another body, indeed every blow, is to be regarded as in its

nature the same as murder, and differing from it only in degree. Further,

wrong shows itself in the subjugation of another individual, in forcing

him into slavery, and, finally, in the seizure of another’s goods, which,

so far as these goods are regarded as the fruit of his labour, is just the

same thing as making him a slave, and is related to this as mere injury is

to murder.

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