Welcome to the Special Introduction of The Wisdom of Life, one of the most widely read and enduring texts by Arthur Schopenhauer. In this prelude, we position his philosophy not merely as abstract theory but as a practical guide for navigating personal existence, happiness, and meaning in a restless world.
This section prepares you for the unfolding ideas of personality, property, social standing, and deeper existential reflections. Schopenhauer's voice echoes with brutal clarity and psychological insight — and in this introduction, we prepare the ground for those who seek not just to read, but to live more wisely.
The Essays of Schopenhauer comprised in this volume are well designated by the title which specially pertains to the first Essay. It will be noticed that the earlier essays are predominantly theoretical or metaphysical, the later practical or ethical. Hence we have in these Essays Schopenhauer’s views upon a number of important problems in Metaphysics and Ethics, valuable, as an introduction to his more abstract expositions, to the specialist in philosophy, and yet presented in such a manner as to appeal to the general reader and student of literature.
Among philosophical writers Schopenhauer enjoys the advantage of standing alone. He cannot be classified. He thus escapes being lost in the crowd. It is indeed true that a great deal of what he writes is taken from his predecessors. It is, however, borrowed, not stolen. It is in each case acknowledged and accredited to the original authors, and while it is adopted by Schopenhauer it is so assimilated and transmuted as to become his own, bearing his image and superscription.
He also possesses the advantage of a distinctive and polished literary style. He has a highly developed artistic sense and in accordance with this selects and arranges his material, in a form of expression pleasing to his readers. Although a recluse and given to the habit of talking to himself, when he writes he talks to his reader frankly and entertainingly.
While he does not even pretend to practice what he preaches in regard to ethical matters, it will be found that his views on the writing of literature are practiced by himself. For instance, note the advice to writers upon the choice of a title. How well has he succeeded in this. Each of his writings has a title appropriate, striking, suggestive, illuminating.
Another advantage that Schopenhauer has, is that while posing as a critic, he is also the advocate of a positive belief. His criticism is not merely fault-finding without any substitute proposed. His confidence in his own theory, whether justifiable or not, makes him earnest at all times, and this makes even his petty moods and savage attacks attain a certain dignity that covers a multitude of sins.
An additional advantage that Schopenhauer has is in possessing a unique and striking personality. This always attracts notice and interest even if it does not evoke admiration or elicit approval. On the whole, there is more of what we can in a sense admire than there is of what we can commend in Schopenhauer’s personality.
Nevertheless, one is fascinated with the peculiarities of this eccentric individual. He is a problem as complex as his philosophy. Indeed, they are the same problem, for as much as any writer — not excepting Fichte, and much more than most other writers — Schopenhauer’s philosophy is an expression of himself. His own peculiar character is the "will" of which his philosophy is the “presentation,” to use his own phraseology.
From this one would naturally be led to expect a consistent and harmonious system, but this presupposes a unitary character. Such, however, is just the reverse of the facts in this case. Schopenhauer’s character is a walking contradiction. No delineation of a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde can approach the weird and uncanny way in which the two natures are bound together, forever fiercely fighting, not alternating, in Schopenhauer.
He himself is well aware of this, and in his own way tries to account for it — first by heredity and secondly by a philosophy of the Universe. His philosophy of the Universe is just himself “writ large,” just as his remarks on women are just a detailed account of his mother, as he views her.
Arthur Schopenhauer was born in 1788 and died in 1860.
His father, Heinrich Schopenhauer, was a wealthy merchant of Dantzic, known for his strong political opinions, cosmopolitan interests, and independence of thought. His mother, Johanna Schopenhauer, was a graceful and refined lady of literary instincts and ambitions, who, after her husband's death, attained some degree of success as an authoress.
From the standpoint of heredity, Schopenhauer was unfortunate on the father's side, as there were strong tendencies to mental instability. These appeared in the son as eccentricities, groundless fears, and suspiciousness. On his mother's side, he also suffered from a lack of nurturing environment. According to Schopenhauer’s testimony, her method of dealing with him was cold and unsympathetic.
It must be granted that he was not an easy individual to deal with. His mother's vanity and selfishness—her tendency to snub, mortify, and disparage her son—were unfortunate and injurious. She lacked the instinctive maternal love that Schopenhauer so desperately needed. While Kant remembered the pious affection of a nurturing mother, Schopenhauer recalled only heartlessness.
With natural tendencies pulling him downwards, there was also in Schopenhauer a gaze ever upward—toward beauty and reflective contemplation. From the poet-philosopher Plato, he adopted a vision of the ideal world beyond the shadows. Plato’s story of the Cave became a framework for Schopenhauer’s own philosophy.
He was drawn to the Neo-Platonists, then back through Eastern thought—embracing ideas of Buddhistic self-obliteration, the negation of the Will-to-live, and the serenity of Nirvana. He studied Kant with great care and claimed to be his true disciple— but in truth, Schopenhauer translated, selected, rejected, adapted, and ultimately transformed Kant to suit his own philosophical needs.
He was the first to call attention to the differences in the two editions of Kant’s “Critique of the Pure Reason,” and fiercely attacks Kant for modifications introduced into the second edition. Among English readers both Kant and Hegel have suffered to some extent from the fact that in many cases they have been first looked at through the spectacles of Schopenhauer’s presentation, which is often a misrepresentation. The fault is partly with Kant and Hegel. What Schopenhauer says about the style or rather lack of style in much that they wrote is—unfortunately too true. It is not surprising that the majority of those to whom German is a foreign language should begin their acquaintance with German philosophy through the reading of Schopenhauer, because of the elegance, simplicity, and charm of his exposition.
But Schopenhauer is not a trustworthy expositor or critic of others. He can speak for himself and he warns his readers against accepting any exposition of an author, earnestly advises them to go to the originals and not take their impressions from the “cast of a cast,” blurred and indistinct like old type. A knowledge of Kant will help much in the comprehension and correction of Schopenhauer. A knowledge of Hegel is almost as essential to the philosophical student as an antidote against Schopenhauer’s onesidedness.*
It would be the easiest thing in the world to trace contradictions in Schopenhauer. According to his theory the whole Universe is a mighty contradiction where the false appearances continually strive to usurp the place that rightfully belongs to the deeper, more abiding Will. What Schopenhauer means by “Will” is a puzzle not easily solved. The reader should be warned against lightly identifying the term with his own previous conceptions. In connection with this chief term we may find opposite poles of meaning from the crudest materialistic to the most refined idealistic. It would be tedious to enumerate the ambiguities whereby he alternately pleases and displeases all sorts and conditions of theorizers and anti-theorizers.
He declares that a man’s creed should be “I must have a metaphysic,” and then elaborately argues that all metaphysic is foolishness. He asserts that speculation is for action, wisdom for life, and then sophistically argues that we should not expect a metaphysician to be a saint, and as usual proves it by a misleading analogy from the sculptor who does not need to be himself beautiful to make a beautiful statue. He does not claim consistency between his theory and his practice. Although he discovers the root of all morality and religion in a basal sympathy due to the fact that in the last resort all beings are but passing phases of the one identical striving; the chief characteristic in Schopenhauer is his misanthropic lack of sympathy. Although he outruns the mystics, the pietists and the pantheists in his demand not only for the renunciation of the joys of life but also of the love of life, he cleverly refutes the foolishness of suicide.
In spite of contradictions sometimes amusing, often tragic, due to the conflict of his own character, we may gather much of what is true and excellent from Schopenhauer. His claim that a man should have a theory of life that is really his own and not one blindly adopted on authority is a truth that needs to be reasserted in every age. Without this insight, no progress. Schopenhauer has been accused of repudiating history altogether. What he despises and condemns is the mere enumeration of incidents without discerning their deeper meaning.
It may be granted that he does more to state the problem of life than he does toward solving it. He refers to “Will” as his ultimate metaphysical reality, and to “Sympathy” as his ultimate ethical principle. The problem he leaves to his successors is to discover in what sense “Will” and “Sympathy” must be understood, if they are to result in self-conservation and not in self-destruction as in Schopenhauer.
Even Schopenhauer’s pessimistic conclusion has a philosophical value. Unlike such writers as John Locke and John Stuart Mill, who start with a narrow theory and end with many excellent truths that are brought in not because of their theory, but in spite of it, whereby the original jackdaw gets decked in borrowed plumage, Schopenhauer with all his waywardness is at least in his final conclusion consistent with his fundamental philosophy.
To those who reject his “materialistic pantheism,” the gloomy pessimism in which it is seen to issue will be regarded as a truer insight than the somewhat shallow optimism that characterizes other recent theosophical pantheistic systems. The pessimistic conclusion is more likely to lead to a reconsideration of the original presuppositions.
Schopenhauer explicitly announces that he is in open revolt against every so-called orthodox position. His work is throughout a protest. He naturally attracts to him every one who is dissatisfied, and where can we find anyone who thinks seriously who does not find something needing emendation? It will not be surprising if the majority of those who would in varying degrees accept Schopenhauer’s denunciations of established opinions should also see equal force in the objections that could be urged against his own position.
The result might be that instead of saying that nothing was left over worthy of being retained, the point of view gained by the discovery of inadequacy in each one-sided position might lead to the stereoscopic combination whereby a new result would be gained far in advance of either Schopenhauer or his opponents, for which we should give both of them humble and hearty thanks.
Schopenhauer, in spite of all his faults, is a mine of suggestion both to the literary and to the philosophical student. If we understand the secret of his waywardness and extend our sympathy, we shall reap much benefit and not waste our efforts in too harsh criticism.