by Arthur Schopenhauer
Kant wrote a treatise on The Vital Powers. I should prefer to write a
dirge for them. The superabundant display of vitality, which takes the form
of knocking, hammering, and tumbling things about, has proved a daily torment
to me all my life long. There are people, it is true -- nay, a great many people --
who smile at such things, because they are not sensitive to noise; but they are
just the very people who are not sensitive to argument, or thought, or poetry, or art,
in a word, to any kind of intellectual influence. The reason of it is that
the tissue of their brains is of a very rough and coarse quality. On the other hand,
noise is a torture to intellectual people. In the biographies of almost all great
writers, or wherever else their personal utterances are recorded, I find complaints
about it; in the case of Kant, for instance, Goethe, Lichtenberg, Jean Paul; and if
it should happen that any writer has omitted to express himself on the matter, it
is only for want of opportunity.
This aversion to noise I should explain as follows: If you cut up a large diamond
into little bits, it will entirely lose the value it had as a whole; and an army
divided up into small bodies of soldiers, loses all its strength. So a great intellect
sinks to the level of an ordinary one, as soon as it is interrupted and disturbed,
its attention distracted and drawn off from the matter in hand; for its superiority
depends upon its power of concentration -- of bringing all its strength to bear upon
one theme, in the same way as a concave mirror collects into one point all the rays of
light that strike upon it. Noisy interruption is a hindrance to this concentration.
That is why distinguished minds have always shown such an extreme dislike to
disturbance in any form, as something that breaks in upon and distracts their thoughts.
Above all have they been averse to that violent interruption that comes from noise.
Ordinary people are not much put out by anything of the sort. The most sensible and
intelligent of all nations in Europe lays down the rule, Never Interrupt! as
the eleventh commandment. Noise is the most impertinent of all forms of interruption.
Of course, where there is nothing to interrupt, noise will not be so particularly
painful. Occasionally it happens that some slight but constant noise continues to
bother and distract me for a time before I become distinctly conscious of it.
All I feel is a steady increase in the labor of thinking -- just as though I were
trying to walk with a weight on my foot. At last I find out what it is.
Let me now, however, pass from genus to species. The most inexcusable and disgraceful
of all noises is the cracking of whips -- a truly infernal thing when it is done in
the narrow resounding streets of a town. I denounce it as making a peaceful life
impossible; it puts an end to all quiet thought. That the cracking of whips should be
allowed at all seems to me to show in the clearest way how senseless and thoughtless
is the nature of mankind. No one with anything like an idea in his head can avoid a
feeling of actual pain at this sudden, sharp crack, which paralyzes the brain, rends
the thread of reflection, and murders thought. Every time this noise is made, it must
disturb a hundred people who are applying their minds to business of some sort, no
matter how trivial it may be; while on the thinker its effect is woeful and disastrous,
cutting his thoughts asunder, much as the executioner's axe severs the head from the
body. No sound, be it ever so shrill, cuts so sharply into the brain as this cursed
cracking of whips; you feel the sting of the lash right inside your head; and it
affects the brain in the same way as touch affects a sensitive plant, and for the same
length of time.
With all due respect for the most holy doctrine of utility, I really cannot see why
a fellow who is taking a wagon-load of gravel or dung should thereby obtain the right to
kill in the bud the thoughts which may be springing up in ten thousand heads -- the
number he will disturb one after another in half an hour's drive through the town.
Hammering, the barking of dogs, and the crying of children are horrible to hear; but
your only genuine assassin of thought is the crack of a whip; it exists for the purpose
of destroying every pleasant moment of quiet thought that any one may now and then enjoy.
If the driver had no other way of urging on his horse than by making this most
abominable of all noises, it would be excusable; but quite the contrary is the case.
This cursed cracking of whips is not only unnecessary, but even useless. Its aim is to
produce an effect upon the intelligence of the horse; but through the constant abuse of
it, the animal becomes habituated to the sound, which falls upon blunted feelings
and produces no effect at all. The horse does not go any faster for it. You have a
remarkable example of this in the ceaseless cracking of his whip on the part of a
cab-driver, while he is proceeding at a slow pace on the lookout for a fare. If he
were to give his horse the slightest touch with the whip, it would have much more effect.
Supposing, however, that it were absolutely necessary to crack the whip in order to keep
the horse constantly in mind of its presence, it would be enough to make the hundredth
part of the noise. For it is a well-known fact that, in regard to sight and hearing,
animals are sensitive to even the faintest indications; they are alive to things that
we can scarcely perceive. The most surprising instances of this are furnished by
trained dogs and canary birds.
It is obvious, therefore, that here we have to do with an act of pure wantonness; nay,
with an impudent defiance offered to those members of the community who work with their
heads by those who work with their
hands. That such infamy should be tolerated in a town is a piece of barbarity and
iniquity, all the more as it could easily be remedied by a police-notice to the effect that
every lash should have a knot at the end of it. There can be no harm in drawing the
attention of the mob to the fact that the classes above them work with their heads, for
any kind of headwork is mortal anguish to the man in the street. A fellow who rides through
the narrow alleys of a populous town with unemployed post-horses or cart-horses, and
keeps on cracking a whip several yards long with all his might, deserves there and then
to stand down and receive five really good blows with a stick.
All the philanthropists in the world, and all the legislators, meeting to advocate and
decree the total abolition of corporal punishment, will never persuade me to the
contrary! There is something even more disgraceful than what I have just mentioned.
Often enough you may see a carter walking along the street, quite alone, without any
horses, and still cracking away incessantly; so accustomed has the wretch become to it
in consequence of the unwarrantable toleration of this practice. A man's body and the
needs of his body are now everywhere treated with a tender indulgence. Is the thinking
mind then, to be the only thing that is never to obtain the slightest measure of
consideration or protection, to say nothing of respect? Carters, porters, messengers --
these are the beasts of burden among mankind; by all means let them be treated justly,
fairly, indulgently, and with forethought; but they must not be permitted to stand in
the way of the higher endeavors of humanity by wantonly making a noise. How many great and
splendid thoughts, I should like to know, have been lost to the world by the crack of a
whip? If I had the upper hand, I should soon produce in the heads of these people an
indissoluble association of ideas between cracking a whip and getting a whipping.
Let us hope that the more intelligent and refined among the nations will make a
beginning in this matter, and then that the Germans may take example by it and follow
suit. Meanwhile, I may quote what Thomas Hood says of them: For a musical nation,
they are the most noisy I ever met with. That they are so is due to the fact, not
that they are more fond of making a noise than other people -- they would deny it if
you asked them -- but that their senses are obtuse; consequently, when they hear a
noise, it does not affect them much. It does not disturb them in reading or thinking,
simply because they do not think; they only smoke, which is their substitute for
thought. The general toleration of unnecessary noise -- the slamming of doors, for
instance, a very unmannerly and ill-bred thing -- is direct evidence that the prevailing
habit of mind is dullness and lack of thought. In Germany it seems as though care were
taken that no one should ever think for mere noise -- to mention one form of it,
the way in which drumming goes on for no purpose at all.
Finally, as regards the literature of the subject treated of in this chapter, I have
only one work to recommend, but it is a good one. I refer to a poetical epistle in
terzo rima by the famous painter Bronzino, entitled De' Romori: a Messer
Luca Martini. It gives a detailed description of the torture to which people are
put by the various noises of a small Italian town. Written in a tragi-comic style, it is
very amusing. The epistle may be found in Opere burlesche del Berni, Aretino ed
altri, Vol. II., p. 258; apparently published in Utrect in 1771.
[Parerga und Paralipomena (1851), vol. 2, chapter 30, § 378.]