nd on genius by one who was incontestably of the privileged
order himself. And whatever may be thought of some of his opinions
on matters of detail--on anonymity, for instance, or on the question
whether good work is never done for money--there can be no doubt that
his general view of literature, and the conditions under which it
flourishes, is perfectly sound.

It might be thought, perhaps, that remarks which were meant to apply
to the German language would have but little bearing upon one so
different from it as English. This would be a just objection if
Schopenhauer treated literature in a petty spirit, and confined
himself to pedantic inquiries into matters of grammar and etymology,
or mere niceties of phrase. But this is not so. He deals with his
subject broadly, and takes large and general views; nor can anyone
who knows anything of the philosopher suppose this to mean that he is
vague and feeble. It is true that now and again in the course of these
essays he makes remarks which are obviously meant to apply to the
failings of certain writers of his own age and country; but in such a
case I have generally given his sentences a turn, which, while keeping
them faithful to the spirit of the original, secures for them a less
restricted range, and makes Schopenhauer a critic of similar faults in
whatever age or country they may appear. This has been done in spite
of a sharp word on page seventeen of this volume, addressed to
translators who dare to revise their author; but the change is one
with which not even Schopenhauer could quarrel.

It is thus a significant fact--a testimony to the depth of his
insight and, in the main, the justice of his opinions--that views of
literature which appealed to his own immediate contemporaries, should
be found to hold good elsewhere and at a distance of fifty years.
It means that what he had to say was worth saying; and since it is
adapted thus equally to diverse times and audiences, it is probably of
permanent interest.

The intelligent reader will observe that much of the charm of
Schopenhauer's writing comes from its strongly personal character, and
that here he has to do, not with a mere maker of books, but with a
man who thinks for himself and has no false scruples in putting his
meaning plainly upon the page, or in unmasking sham wherever he finds
it. This is nowhere so true as when he deals with literature; and just
as in his treatment of life, he is no flatterer to men in g