|
PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA: SHORT PHILOSOPHICAL ESSAYS |
|
[b]CHAPTER 31: Similes, Parables, and Fables[/b]
§ 379
The concave mirror can be used for many different similes; for example, it can be compared to genius, as has been done already, in so far as this too concentrates its force on to one spot in order, like the mirror, to cast outwards a deceptive but embellished picture of things, or generally to add light and warmth to astonishing effects. The elegant scholar of varied learning, on the other hand, is like the convex diverging mirror which simultaneously displays just beneath its surface all objects and also a reduced image of the sun, and casts these at everyone in all directions. The concave mirror, on the other hand, is effective in only one direction and requires that the person looking at it shall take up a definite position.
In the second place, every genuine work of art can be compared to a concave mirror in so far as what it really communicates is not its own tangible self, its empirical substance, but something lying outside it which cannot be grasped with the hands, but only pursued by the imagination, as the real spirit of the thing that is hard to catch. In this connection see my chief work volume ii, chapter 34.
Finally, a despairing lover may also compare his heartless beloved epigrammatically to a concave mirror. Like her it shines, kindles, and consumes, yet itself remains cold.
§ 380
Switzerland is like a genius; beautiful and elevated; yet little suited to bearing nutritious fruits. On the other hand, Pomerania and the fens of Holstein are extremely fertile and productive, but flat, tedious, and dull, like useful Philistines.
§ 380a
In a field of ripening corn I stood at a spot where some thoughtless foot had trampled a gap. There amid the countless heavy-eared cornstalks, all exactly alike and perfectly straight, I saw a variety of blue, red, and violet flowers which in their natural setting and with their foliage were very beautiful to look at. But, I thought, they are useless, unproductive, and really mere weeds, which are only tolerated here because they cannot be got rid of. Yet it is they alone that lend beauty and charm to this scene. Thus their role is in every respect the same as that played by poetry and the fine arts in serious, useful, and productive civil life; and so they can be regarded as the emblem of these.
§ 381
There are on earth some really beautiful landscapes; but in them human affairs and figures are everywhere in a bad way, and so one must not dwell on them.
§ 381a
A town with architectural embellishments, monuments, obelisks, fountains, and so on, and yet having wretched and miserable pavements, as is usual in Germany, resembles a woman who is decked out in gold and jewelry, but wears a tattered and dirty dress. If you want to make your towns as beautiful as those of Italy, then first pave them as the Italians pave theirs. Incidentally, do not put statues on pedestals as tall as houses, but in this respect copy the Italians.
§ 382
We should take the fly as the symbol of brazen impudence and effrontery. For whereas all animals are more afraid of man than of anything else and get as far away from him as possible, the fly sits on his nose.
§ 383
Two Chinamen in Europe went to the theatre for the first time. One was busy endeavouring to understand the working of the machinery and succeeded in his efforts. The other, in spite of his ignorance of the language, tried to unravel the meaning of the piece. The astronomer resembles the former, the philosopher the latter.
§ 384
I stood on a mercury trough and with an iron ladle drew off a few drops. I threw them up and again caught them in the ladel. When I missed, they fell back into the trough and nothing was lost except their momentary form; and so success and failure left me somewhat indifferent. Thus is the natura naturans or inner nature of all things related to the life and death of individuals.
§ 385
Wisdom that exists in a man only theoretically without becoming practical is like a double rose which by its colour and perfume delights others, but drops away and dies without going to seed.
No rose without a thorn. But many a thorn without a rose.
§ 386
The dog is quite rightly the symbol of faithfulness; but among plants the fir-tree should be. For it alone stays with us in fine weather as in foul. It does not forsake us when the sun withdraws his favours, as do all the other trees, plants, insects, and birds, to return when the heavens again smile at us.
§ 386a
Behind a wide-spreading apple-tree in full bloom, a straight fir-tree raised its dark and tapering head. Said the apple-tree to the fir: 'Look at the thousands of gay blossoms that completely cover me! What have you to show by comparison? Dark green needles!' 'That is quite true', replied the fir, 'but when winter comes, you will be denuded of your foliage and I shall be as I am now.'
§ 387
As I was botanizing one day under an oak, I found among the other plants and of the same height as they one which was dark in colour and had tightly closed leaves and a straight stiff stem. When I touched it, it said to me in a firm voice: 'Leave me alone! I am not a plant for your herbarium as are the others to whom nature has granted only one year of life. My life is measured in centuries, for I am a little oak tree.' It is the same for the man whose effect is to endure for centuries. As a child, a youth, or often even as a man, and indeed throughout his life, he appears to be like his fellows and is just as unimportant as they. But let time come and bring those who will appreciate him! He will not die like the others.
§ 388
I came across a wild flower, marvelled at its beauty and at the perfection of all its parts, and exclaimed: 'But all this in you and in thousands like you blossoms and fades; it is not noticed by anyone and in fact is often not even seen by any eye.' But the flower replied: ' You fool! Do you imagine I blossom in order to be seen? I blossom for my own sake because it pleases me, and not for the sake of others; my joy and delight consist in my being and in my blossoming.'
§ 389
At the time when the earth's surface still consisted of an even and uniform crust of granite and no germ as yet existed for the formation of any living thing, the sun rose one morning. Iris, the messenger of the gods, came flying along in the name of Juno and, while hurrying past, exclaimed to the sun: 'Why do you bother to rise? There exists no eye to perceive you and no pillar of Memnon to resound!' To which he replied: 'But I am the sun and I rise because it is I; let anyone see me who can!'
§ 390
A beautiful, verdant, and flowering oasis looked around and saw nothing but the desert. In vain did she try to perceive another like herself and burst out lamenting: 'Luckless and lonely oasis that I am! I must remain alone! Nowhere is there the like of me! Nowhere is there even an eye that would see me and rejoice in my meadows, springs, palm trees, and shrubs! Nothing surrounds me but the dreary lifeless desert of sand and rock! Of what use to me in my loneliness are my excellent qualities, beauties, and riches?'
The old grey mother desert then replied: ' My child, if things were different, if I were not the dreary arid desert, but were flourishing, green, and covered with life, then you would not be an oasis, a favoured spot, whereof the traveller speaks highly while he is still far off. On the contrary, you would be just a small part of me and, as such, insignificant and unnoticed. And so endure with patience that which is the condition of your distinction and glory.'
§ 391
Whoever ascends in a balloon does not feel himself rise, but sees the earth sink more and more beneath him. What can this be? A mystery that is understood only by those who share the feeling.
§ 392
As regards the estimation of a man's greatness, opposite laws apply to mental and physical greatness. Through distance the latter is diminished, whereas the former is enlarged.
§ 393
Nature has covered all things with the varnish of beauty, just as she has breathed a delicate bloom on dark plums. Painters and poets are most anxious to strip off this varnish in order to store it up and offer it to us to be enjoyed at our leisure. We then greedily take it in before we enter into real life. But when subsequently we do enter it, it is then natural for us to see things stripped of that varnish with which nature had covered them. For the artists have used it all up and we have enjoyed it in advance. Accordingly, things now seem to us unfriendly and devoid of charm; in fact they are often repulsive. It would be better, therefore, to leave that varnish on things, so that we should find it for ourselves. It is true that we should then not enjoy it all at once in large doses, accumulated in the form of complete paintings or poems. Instead of this, we should see all things in that serene and beautiful light in which even now a child of nature sometimes sees them, one who has not, by means of the fine arts, enjoyed in advance his aesthetic pleasures and the charm of life.
§ 394
Mainz cathedral is so shut in by the houses built round it, that there is no spot from which we can see it as a whole. To me this is a symbol of everything great and beautiful in the world, which should exist only for its own sake, but is soon misused by needs and wants. These come from all directions in order to lean on it and support themselves by it; and in this way they mask it and spoil its effect. Naturally this is not surprising in a world of want and need to which everything must always be of service and which seize on all things for the purpose of making their instruments. Not even that is excepted which could have been produced only by their momentary absence. I refer to beauty and to the truth that is sought for its own sake.
We find a special illustration and confirmation of this when we consider the institutions, great and small, rich and poor, which are founded in all ages and countries for the maintenance and advancement of human knowledge and generally of those intellectual efforts that ennoble our race. Wherever such institutions may be, it is not long before crude animal wants and needs stealthily approach in order to get possession of the emoluments that are allotted for the purpose, under the pretence of wanting to serve those ends. This is the origin of the charlatanry that is frequently met with in all branches of knowledge. However varied the forms it takes, its true nature is that the charlatan cares nothing for the subject itself, but strives merely for the semblance thereof, for the sake of his own personal, egoistical, and material ends.
§ 395
For the education and improvement of her children a mother had given them Aesop's fables to read. But they very soon returned the book to her and the eldest, wise beyond his years, expressed himself as follows: 'This is no book for us! It is far too childish and stupid. No longer can we be made to believe that foxes, wolves, and ravens can speak; we have long since got beyond such stuff!' Who does not recognize in these young hopefuls the enlightened rationalists of the future?
§ 396
One cold winter's day, a number of porcupines huddled together quite closely in order through their mutual warmth to prevent themselves from being frozen. But they soon felt the effect of their quills on one another, which made them again move apart. Now when the need for warmth once more brought them together, the drawback of the quills was repeated so that they were tossed between two evils, until they had discovered the proper distance from which they could best tolerate one another. Thus the need for society which springs from the emptiness and monotony of men's lives, drives them together; but their many unpleasant and repulsive qualities and insufferable drawbacks once more drive them apart. The mean distance which they finally discover, and which enables them to endure being together, is politeness and good manners. Whoever does not keep to this, is told in England to 'keep his distance'. By virtue thereof, it is true that the need for mutual warmth will be only imperfectly satisfied, but, on the other hand, the prick of the quills will not be felt. Yet whoever has a great deal of internal warmth of his own will prefer to keep away from society in order to avoid giving or receiving trouble and annoyance.
|