On the Fourfold Root of the Principle of Sufficient Reason, and On the Will in Nature: Two Essays (revised edition)
Schopenhauer · en
No other explanation or assumption enables us nearly as well to
understand either the complete suitableness to purpose and to the
external conditions of existence I have here shown in the skeleton,
or the admirable harmony and fitness of internal mechanism in the
structure of each animal, as the truth I have elsewhere firmly
established: that the body of an animal is precisely nothing but
the _will itself_ of that animal brought to cerebral perception as
representation--through the forms of Space, Time and Causality--in
other words, the mere visibility, objectivity of Will. For, if this
is once pre-supposed, everything in and belonging to that body must
conspire towards the final end: the life of this animal. Nothing
superfluous, nothing deficient, nothing inappropriate, nothing
insufficient or incomplete of its kind, can therefore be found in it;
on the contrary, all that is required must be there, and just in the
proportion needed, never more. For here artist, work and materials are
one and the same. Each organism is therefore a consummate master-piece
of exceeding perfection. Here the will did not first cherish the
intention, first recognise the end and then adapt the means to it and
conquer the material; its willing was rather immediately the aim and
immediately the attainment of that aim; no foreign appliances needing
to be overcome were wanted--willing, doing and attaining were here one
and the same. Thus the organism presents itself as a miracle which
admits of no comparison with any work of human artifice wrought by the
lamplight of knowledge.[243]
[243] The appearance of every animal therefore presents a totality,
a unity, a perfection and a rigidly carried out harmony in all its
parts which is so entirely based upon a single fundamental thought,
that even the strangest animal shape seems to the attentive
observer as if it were the only right, nay, only possible form
of existence, and as if there could be no other than just this
very one. The expression "natural" used to denote that a thing is
a matter of course, and that it cannot be otherwise, is in its
deepest foundation based upon this. Göthe himself was struck by
this unity when contemplating whelks and crabs at Venice, and it
caused him to exclaim: "How delightful, how glorious is a living
thing! how well adapted for its condition; how true, how real!"
("Life," vol. iv. p. 223). No artist therefore, who has not made it
his business to study such forms for years and to penetrate into
their meaning and comprehension, can rightly imitate them. Without
this study his work will seem as if it were pasted together: the
parts no doubt will be there, but the bond which unites them and
gives them cohesion, the spirit, the idea, which is the objectivity
of the primary act of the will presenting itself as this or that
particular species, will be wanting. [Add. to 3rd ed.]