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diff --git a/37841-tei/37841-tei.tei b/37841-tei/37841-tei.tei new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca9b9fa --- /dev/null +++ b/37841-tei/37841-tei.tei @@ -0,0 +1,17188 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" ?> + +<!DOCTYPE TEI.2 SYSTEM "http://www.gutenberg.org/tei/marcello/0.4/dtd/pgtei.dtd" [ + +<!ENTITY u5 "http://www.tei-c.org/Lite/"> + +]> + +<TEI.2 lang="en"> +<teiHeader> + <fileDesc> + <titleStmt> + <title>Human, All-Too-Human, Part II</title> + <author><name reg="Nietzsche, Friedrich">Friedrich Nietzsche</name></author> + <respStmt><resp>Translated By</resp> <name>Paul V. Cohn, B.A.</name></respStmt> + </titleStmt> + <editionStmt> + <edition n="1">Edition 1</edition> + </editionStmt> + <publicationStmt> + <publisher>Project Gutenberg</publisher> + <date>October 24, 2011</date> + <idno type="etext-no">37841</idno> + <availability> + <p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and + with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it + away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg + License online at www.gutenberg.org/license</p> + </availability> + </publicationStmt> + <sourceDesc> + <bibl> + Created electronically. + </bibl> + </sourceDesc> + </fileDesc> + <encodingDesc> + </encodingDesc> + <profileDesc> + <langUsage> + <language id="en"></language> + <language id="la"></language> + <language id="de"></language> + <language id="fr"></language> + <language id="el"></language> + <language id="it"></language> + </langUsage> + </profileDesc> + <revisionDesc> + <change> + <date value="2011-10-24">October 24, 2011</date> + <respStmt> + <name> + Produced by Gary Rees, David King, and the Online + Distributed Proofreading Team at <http://www.pgdp.net/>. + (This file was produced from images generously made + available by The Internet Archive.) + </name> + </respStmt> + <item>Project Gutenberg TEI edition 1</item> + </change> + </revisionDesc> +</teiHeader> + +<pgExtensions> + <pgStyleSheet> + .boxed { x-class: boxed } + .shaded { x-class: shaded } + .rules { x-class: rules; rules: all } + .indent { margin-left: 2 } + .bold { font-weight: bold } + .italic { font-style: italic } + .smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps } + </pgStyleSheet> + + <pgCharMap formats="txt.iso-8859-1"> + <char id="U0x2014"> + <charName>mdash</charName> + <desc>EM DASH</desc> + <mapping>--</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x2003"> + <charName>emsp</charName> + <desc>EM SPACE</desc> + <mapping> </mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x2026"> + <charName>hellip</charName> + <desc>HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS</desc> + <mapping>...</mapping> + </char> + </pgCharMap> +</pgExtensions> + +<text lang="en"> + <front> + <div> + <divGen type="pgheader" /> + </div> + <div> + <divGen type="encodingDesc" /> + </div> + + <div rend="page-break-before: always"> + <p rend="font-size: x-large; text-align: center">Friedrich Nietzsche</p> + <p rend="font-size: xx-large; text-align: center">Human</p> + <p rend="font-size: xx-large; text-align: center">All-Too-Human</p> + <p rend="font-size: large; text-align: center">A Book For Free Spirits</p> + <p rend="font-size: large; text-align: center">Part II</p> + <p rend="text-align: center">Translated By</p> + <p rend="font-size: large; text-align: center">Paul V. Cohn, B.A.</p> + <p rend="text-align: center">New York</p> + <p rend="text-align: center">The MacMillan Company</p> + <p rend="text-align: center">1913</p> + </div> + <div rend="page-break-before: always"> + <head>Contents</head> + <divGen type="toc" /> + </div> + + </front> +<body> + +<pb n='vii'/><anchor id='Pgvii'/> + +<div rend='page-break-before: always'> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Translator's Introduction.</head> + +<p> +The publication of <hi rend='italic'>Human, all-too-Human</hi> extends +over the period 1878-1880. Of the two +divisions which constitute the Second Part, <q>Miscellaneous +Maxims and Opinions</q> appeared in 1879, +and <q>The Wanderer and his Shadow</q> in 1880, +Nietzsche being then in his thirty-sixth year. The +Preface was added in 1886. The whole book forms +Nietzsche's first lengthy contribution to literature. +His previous works comprise only the philological +treatises, <hi rend='italic'>The Birth of Tragedy</hi>, and the essays on +Strauss, Schopenhauer, and Wagner in <hi rend='italic'>Thoughts out +of Season</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +With the volumes of <hi rend='italic'>Human, all-too-Human</hi> +Nietzsche appears for the first time in his true +colours as philosopher. His purely scholarly publications, +his essays in literary and musical criticism—especially +the essay on Richard Wagner at Bayreuth—had, +of course, foreshadowed his work as a +thinker. +</p> + +<p> +These efforts, however, had been mere fragments, +from which hardly any one could observe that a new +philosophical star had arisen on the horizon. But +by 1878 the period of transition had definitely set +in. Outwardly, the new departure is marked by +Nietzsche's resignation in that year of his professorship +<pb n='viii'/><anchor id='Pgviii'/> +at Bâle—a resignation due partly to ill-health, +and partly to his conviction that his was a voice that +should speak not merely to students of philology, +but to all mankind. +</p> + +<p> +Nietzsche himself characterises <hi rend='italic'>Human, all-too-Human</hi> +as <q>the monument of a crisis.</q> He might as +fitly have called it the first-fruits of a new harvest. +Now, for the first time, he practises the form which +he was to make so peculiarly his own. We are told—and +we may well believe—that the book came as +a surprise even to his most intimate friends. Wagner +had already seen how matters stood at the publication +of the first part, and the gulf between the two +probably widened on the appearance of the Second +Part. +</p> + +<p> +Several aphorisms are here, varying in length as +in subject, and ranging over the whole human province—the +emotions and aspirations, the religions +and cultures and philosophies, the arts and literatures +and politics of mankind. Equally varied is +the range of style, the incisive epigram and the +passage of pure poetry jostling each other on the +same page. In this curious power of alternating between +cynicism and lyricism, Nietzsche appears as +the prose counterpart of Heine. +</p> + +<p> +One or two of the aphorisms are of peculiar +interest to English readers. The essay (as it may +almost be called) on Sterne (p. <ref target='Pg060'>60</ref>, No. 113) does +ample justice, if not more than justice, to that +wayward genius. The allusion to Milton (p. <ref target='Pg077'>77</ref>, +No. 150) will come as somewhat of a shock to +English readers, especially to those who hold that +in Milton Art triumphed over Puritanism. It +<pb n='ix'/><anchor id='Pgix'/> +should be remembered, however, that Nietzsche's +view coincides with Goethe's. The dictum that +Shakespeare's gold is to be valued for its quantity +rather than its quality (p. <ref target='Pg081'>81</ref>, No. 162) also +betrays a certain exclusiveness—a legacy from +that eighteenth-century France which appealed so +strongly to Nietzsche on its intellectual side. To +Nietzsche, as to Voltaire, Shakespeare is after all +<q>the great barbarian.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The title of the book may be explained from a +phrase in <hi rend='italic'>Thus Spake Zarathustra</hi>: <q>Verily, even +the greatest I found—all-too-human.</q> The keynote +of these volumes is indeed disillusion and destruction. +Nor is this to be wondered at, for all men must +sweep away the rubbish before they can build. Hence +we find here little of the constructive philosophy of +Nietzsche—so far as he had a constructive philosophy. +The Superman appears but faintly, the +doctrine of Eternal Recurrence not at all. For this +very reason, <hi rend='italic'>Human, all-too-Human</hi> is perhaps the +best starting-point for the study of Nietzsche. The +difficulties in style and thought of the later work—difficulties +that at times become well-nigh insuperable +in <hi rend='italic'>Thus Spake Zarathustra</hi>—are here practically +absent. The book may, in fact, almost be +described as <q>popular,</q> bearing the same relation +to Nietzsche's later productions as Wagner's <hi rend='italic'>Tannhäuser</hi> +and <hi rend='italic'>Lohengrin</hi> bear to the <hi rend='italic'>Ring</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +The translator's thanks are due to Mr. Thomas +Common for his careful revision of the manuscript +and many valuable suggestions. +</p> + +<p> +P. V. C. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='001'/><anchor id='Pg001'/> + +<div rend='page-break-before: always'> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Preface.</head> + +<div> +<head>1.</head> + +<p> +One should only speak where one cannot remain +silent, and only speak of what one has <emph>conquered</emph>—the +rest is all chatter, <q>literature,</q> bad breeding. My +writings speak only of my conquests, <q>I</q> am in them, +with all that is hostile to me, <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>ego ipsissimus</foreign>, or, if a +more haughty expression be permitted, <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>ego ipsissimum</foreign>. +It may be guessed that I have many below +me.... But first I always needed time, convalescence, +distance, separation, before I felt the stirrings +of a desire to flay, despoil, lay bare, <q>represent</q> (or +whatever one likes to call it) for the additional +knowledge of the world, something that I had lived +through and outlived, something done or suffered. +Hence all my writings,—with one exception, important, +it is true,—must be <emph>ante-dated</emph>—they always +tell of a <q>behind-me.</q> Some even, like the first three +<hi rend='italic'>Thoughts out of Season</hi>, must be thrown back before +the period of creation and experience of a previously +published book (<hi rend='italic'>The Birth of Tragedy</hi> in the case +cited, as any one with subtle powers of observation +and comparison could not fail to perceive). That +wrathful outburst against the Germanism, smugness, +and raggedness of speech of old David Strauss, the +<pb n='002'/><anchor id='Pg002'/> +contents of the first <hi rend='italic'>Thought out of Season</hi>, gave a +vent to feelings that had inspired me long before, as +a student, in the midst of German culture and cultured +Philistinism (I claim the paternity of the now +much used and misused phrase <q>cultured Philistinism</q>). +What I said against the <q>historical disease</q> +I said as one who had slowly and laboriously +recovered from that disease, and who was not at +all disposed to renounce <q>history</q> in the future because +he had suffered from her in the past. When +in the third <hi rend='italic'>Thought out of Season</hi> I gave expression +to my reverence for my first and only teacher, the +<emph>great</emph> Arthur Schopenhauer—I should now give it a +far more personal and emphatic voice—I was for my +part already in the throes of moral scepticism and +dissolution, that is, as much concerned with the +criticism as with the study of all pessimism down to +the present day. I already did not believe in <q>a +blessed thing,</q> as the people say, not even in Schopenhauer. +It was at this very period that an unpublished +essay of mine, <q>On Truth and Falsehood +in an Extra-Moral Sense,</q> came into being. Even +my ceremonial oration in honour of Richard Wagner, +on the occasion of his triumphal celebration at +Bayreuth in 1876—Bayreuth signifies the greatest +triumph that an artist has ever won—a work that +bears the strongest stamp of <q>individuality,</q> was in +the background an act of homage and gratitude to a +bit of the past in me, to the fairest but most perilous +calm of my sea-voyage ... and as a matter of fact +a severance and a farewell. (Was Richard Wagner +mistaken on this point? I do not think so. So +long as we still love, we do not paint such pictures, +<pb n='003'/><anchor id='Pg003'/> +we do not yet <q>examine,</q> we do not place ourselves +so far away as is essential for one who +<q>examines.</q> <q>Examining needs at least a secret +antagonism, that of an opposite point of view,</q> it +is said on page 46 of the above-named work itself, +with an insidious, melancholy application that was +perhaps understood by few.) The composure that +gave me the <emph>power</emph> to speak after many intervening +years of solitude and abstinence, first came with +the book, <hi rend='italic'>Human, All-too Human</hi>, to which this +second preface and apologia<note place='foot'><q>Foreword</q> and <q>forword</q> would be the literal rendering +of the play on words.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> is dedicated. As a +book for <q>free spirits</q> it shows some trace of that +almost cheerful and inquisitive coldness of the psychologist, +who has <emph>behind</emph> him many painful things +that he keeps <emph>under</emph> him, and moreover establishes +them for himself and fixes them firmly as with a +needle-point. Is it to be wondered at that at such +sharp, ticklish work blood flows now and again, that +indeed the psychologist has blood on his fingers and +not <emph>only</emph> on his fingers? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>2.</head> + +<p> +The <hi rend='italic'>Miscellaneous Maxims and Opinions</hi> were in +the first place, like <hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer and His Shadow</hi>, +published separately as continuations and appendices +to the above-mentioned human, all-too human <hi rend='italic'>Book +for Free Spirits</hi>: and at the same time, as a continuation +and confirmation of an intellectual cure, consisting +in a course of anti-romantic self-treatment, +such as my instinct, which had always remained +<pb n='004'/><anchor id='Pg004'/> +healthy, had itself discovered and prescribed against +a temporary attack of the most dangerous form of +romantics. After a convalescence of six years I may +well be permitted to collect these same writings +and publish them as a second volume of <hi rend='italic'>Human, +All-too Human</hi>. Perhaps, if surveyed together, they +will more clearly and effectively teach their lesson—a +lesson of health that may be recommended as a +<foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>disciplina voluntatis</foreign> to the more intellectual natures +of the rising generation. Here speaks a pessimist +who has often leaped out of his skin but has always +returned into it, thus, a pessimist with goodwill towards +pessimism—at all events a romanticist no +longer. And has not a pessimist, who possesses this +serpentine knack of changing his skin, the right to +read a lecture to our pessimists of to-day, who are +one and all still in the toils of romanticism? Or at +least to show them how it is—done? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>3.</head> + +<p> +It was then, in fact, high time to bid farewell, and +I soon received proof. Richard Wagner, who seemed +all-conquering, but was in reality only a decayed and +despairing romantic, suddenly collapsed, helpless +and broken, before the Christian Cross.... Was +there not a single German with eyes in his head and +sympathy in his heart for this appalling spectacle? +Was I the only one whom he caused—suffering? +In any case, the unexpected event illumined for me +in one lightning flash the place that I had abandoned, +and also the horror that is felt by every one who is +unconscious of a great danger until he has passed +<pb n='005'/><anchor id='Pg005'/> +through it. As I went forward alone, I shuddered, +and not long afterwards I was ill, or rather more +than ill—weary: weary from my ceaseless disappointment +about all that remained to make us +modern men enthusiastic, at the thought of the power, +work, hope, youth, love, flung to all the winds: +weary from disgust at the effeminacy and undisciplined +rhapsody of this romanticism, at the whole +tissue of idealistic lies and softening of conscience, +which here again had won the day over one of the +bravest of men: last, and not least, weary from the +bitterness of an inexorable suspicion—that after this +disappointment I was doomed to mistrust more +thoroughly, to despise more thoroughly, to be alone +more thoroughly than ever before. My task—whither +had it flown? Did it not look now as if my task were +retreating from me and as if I should for a long future +period have no more right to it? What was I to do +to endure this most terrible privation?—I began by +entirely forbidding myself all romantic music, that +ambiguous, pompous, stifling art, which robs the +mind of its sternness and its joyousness and provides +a fertile soil for every kind of vague yearning and +spongy sensuality. <q>Cave musicam</q> is even to-day +my advice to all who are enough of men to cling to +purity in matters of the intellect. Such music enervates, +softens, feminises, its <q>eternal feminine</q> +draws us—<emph>down</emph>!<note place='foot'>The allusion is to the ending of the Second Part of +Goethe's <hi rend='italic'>Faust</hi>—<q>das Ewig Weibliche Zieht uns <emph>hinan</emph>!</q>—<q>The +Eternal Feminine Draweth us <emph>on</emph>!</q>—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> My first suspicion, my most immediate +precaution, was directed against romantic +music. If I hoped for anything at all from music, it +<pb n='006'/><anchor id='Pg006'/> +was in the expectation of the coming of a musician +bold, subtle, malignant, southern, healthy enough to +take an immortal revenge upon that other music. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>4.</head> + +<p> +Lonely now and miserably self-distrustful, I took +sides, not without resentment, <emph>against</emph> myself and +<emph>for</emph> everything that hurt me and was hard to me. +Thus I once more found the way to that courageous +pessimism that is the antithesis of all romantic fraud, +and, as it seems to me to-day, the way to <q>myself,</q> +to my task. That hidden masterful Something, for +which we long have no name until at last it shows +itself as our task—that tyrant in us exacts a terrible +price for every attempt that we make to escape him +or give him the slip, for every premature act of self-constraint, +for every reconciliation with those to +whom we do not belong, for every activity, however +reputable, which turns us aside from our main +purpose, yes, even for every virtue that would fain +protect us from the cruelty of our most individual +responsibility. <q>Disease</q> is always the answer when +we wish to have doubts of our rights to our own task, +when we begin to make it easier for ourselves in +any way. How strange and how terrible! It is our +very alleviations for which we have to make the +severest atonement! And if we want to return to +health, we have no choice left—we must load ourselves +<emph>more heavily</emph> than we were ever laden before. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>5.</head> + +<p> +It was then that I learnt the hermitical habit of +<pb n='007'/><anchor id='Pg007'/> +speech acquired only by the most silent and suffering. +I spoke without witnesses, or rather indifferent +to the presence of witnesses, so as not to suffer from +silence, I spoke of various things that did not concern +me in a style that gave the impression that +they did. Then, too, I learnt the art of showing myself +cheerful, objective, inquisitive in the presence +of all that is healthy and evil—is this, in an invalid, +as it seems to me, his <q>good taste</q>? Nevertheless, +a more subtle eye and sympathy will not miss what +perhaps gives a charm to these writings—the fact +that here speaks one who has suffered and abstained +in such a way as if he had never suffered or abstained. +Here equipoise, composure, even gratitude +towards life <emph>shall</emph> be maintained, here rules a stern, +proud, ever vigilant, ever susceptible will, which has +undertaken the task of defending life against pain +and snapping off all conclusions that are wont to +grow like poisonous fungi from pain, disappointment, +satiety, isolation and other morasses. Perhaps +this gives our pessimists a hint to self-examination? +For it was then that I hit upon the aphorism, <q>a +sufferer has as yet no right to pessimism,</q> and that +I engaged in a tedious, patient campaign against +the unscientific first principles of all romantic pessimism, +which seeks to magnify and interpret individual, +personal experiences into <q>general judgments,</q> +universal condemnations—it was then, in +short, that I sighted a new world. Optimism for +the sake of restitution, in order at some time to +have the right to become a pessimist—do you understand +that? Just as a physician transfers his patient +to totally strange surroundings, in order to displace +<pb n='008'/><anchor id='Pg008'/> +him from his entire <q>past,</q> his troubles, friends, +letters, duties, stupid mistakes and painful memories, +and teaches him to stretch out hands and senses towards +new nourishment, a new sun, a new future: +so I, as physician and invalid in one, forced myself +into an utterly different and untried zone of the +soul, and particularly into an absorbing journey +to a strange land, a strange atmosphere, into a +curiosity for all that was strange. A long process +of roaming, seeking, changing followed, a distaste for +fixity of any kind—a dislike for clumsy affirmation +and negation: and at the same time a dietary and +discipline which aimed at making it as easy as possible +for the soul to fly high, and above all constantly +to fly away. In fact a minimum of life, an +unfettering from all coarser forms of sensuality, an +independence in the midst of all marks of outward +disfavour, together with the pride in being able to +live in the midst of all this disfavour: a little cynicism +perhaps, a little of the <q>tub of Diogenes,</q> a +good deal of whimsical happiness, whimsical gaiety, +much calm, light, subtle folly, hidden enthusiasm—all +this produced in the end a great spiritual +strengthening, a growing joy and exuberance of +health. Life itself rewards us for our tenacious will +to life, for such a long war as I waged against the +pessimistic weariness of life, even for every observant +glance of our gratitude, glances that do not +miss the smallest, most delicate, most fugitive +gifts.... In the end we receive Life's great gifts, +perhaps the greatest it can bestow—we regain <emph>our</emph> +task. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='009'/><anchor id='Pg009'/> + +<div> +<head>6.</head> + +<p> +Should my experience—the history of an illness +and a convalescence, for it resulted in a convalescence—be +only my personal experience? and merely just +my <q>Human, All-too-human</q>? To-day I would +fain believe the reverse, for I am becoming more and +more confident that my books of travel were not +penned for my sole benefit, as appeared for a time to +be the case. May I, after six years of growing assurance, +send them once more on a journey for an experiment?—May +I commend them particularly to +the ears and hearts of those who are afflicted with +some sort of a <q>past,</q> and have enough intellect left +to suffer even intellectually from their past? But +above all would I commend them to you whose +burden is heaviest, you choice spirits, most encompassed +with perils, most intellectual, most courageous, +who must be the <emph>conscience</emph> of the modern soul +and as such be versed in its <emph>science</emph>:<note place='foot'>It has been attempted to render the play on <q>Gewissen</q> +and <q>Wissen.</q>—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> in whom is +concentrated all of disease, poison or danger that +can exist to-day: whose lot decrees that you must +be more sick than any individual because you are not +<q>mere individuals</q>: whose consolation it is to know +and, ah! to walk the path to a new health, a health +of to-morrow and the day after: you men of destiny, +triumphant, conquerors of time, the healthiest and +the strongest, you <emph>good Europeans</emph>! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>7.</head> + +<p> +To express finally in a single formula my opposition +<pb n='010'/><anchor id='Pg010'/> +to the romantic pessimism of the abstinent, +the unfortunate, the conquered: there is a will to +the tragic and to pessimism, which is a sign as +much of the severity as of the strength of the intellect +(taste, emotion, conscience). With this will +in our hearts we do not fear, but we investigate ourselves +the terrible and the problematical elements +characteristic of all existence. Behind such a will +stand courage and pride and the desire for a really +great enemy. That was <emph>my</emph> pessimistic outlook +from the first—a new outlook, methinks, an outlook +that even at this day is new and strange? To this +moment I hold to it firmly and (if it will be believed) +not only <emph>for</emph> myself but occasionally <emph>against</emph> myself.... +You would prefer to have that proved +first? Well, what else does all this long preface—prove? +</p> + +<lg> +<l><hi rend='smallcaps'>Sils-Maria, Upper Engadine</hi>,</l> +<l><hi rend='italic'>September, 1886</hi>.</l> +</lg> + +</div> + +</div> + +<pb n='011'/><anchor id='Pg011'/> + +<div rend='page-break-before: always'> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Part I. Miscellaneous Maxims And +Opinions.</head> + +<pb n='013'/><anchor id='Pg013'/> + +<div> +<head>1.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To the Disillusioned in Philosophy.</hi>—If you +hitherto believed in the highest value of life and +now find yourselves disillusioned, must you immediately +get rid of life at the lowest possible +price? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>2.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Overnice.</hi>—One can even become overnice as +regards the clearness of concepts. How disgusted +one is then at having truck with the half-clear, the +hazy, the aspiring, the doubting! How ridiculous +and yet not mirth-provoking is their eternal fluttering +and straining without ever being able to fly or +to grasp! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>3.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Wooers of Reality.</hi>—He who realises +at last how long and how thoroughly he has been +befooled, embraces out of spite even the ugliest +reality. So that in the long run of the world's +history the best men have always been wooers of +reality, for the best have always been longest and +most thoroughly deceived. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='014'/><anchor id='Pg014'/> + +<div> +<head>4.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Advance of Freethinking.</hi>—The difference +between past and present freethinking cannot better +be characterised than by that aphorism for the recognition +and expression of which all the fearlessness of +the eighteenth century was needed, and which even +then, if measured by our modern view, sinks into an +unconscious naïveté. I mean Voltaire's aphorism, +<q>croyez-moi, mon ami, l'erreur aussi a son mérite.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>5.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Hereditary Sin of Philosophers.</hi>—Philosophers +have at all times appropriated and <emph>corrupted</emph> +the maxims of censors of men (moralists), by taking +them over without qualification and trying to prove +as necessary what the moralists only meant as a +rough indication or as a truth suited to their fellow-countrymen +or fellow-townsmen for a single decade. +Moreover, the philosophers thought that they were +thereby raising themselves above the moralists! +Thus it will be found that the celebrated teachings +of Schopenhauer as to the supremacy of the will +over the intellect, of the immutability of character, +the negativity of pleasure—all errors, in the sense +in which he understands them—rest upon principles +of popular wisdom enunciated by the moralists. +Take the very word <q>will,</q> which Schopenhauer +twisted so as to become a common denotation of +several human conditions and with which he filled +a gap in the language (to his own great advantage, +in so far as he was a moralist, for he became free to +<pb n='015'/><anchor id='Pg015'/> +speak of the will as Pascal had spoken of it). In +the hands of its creator, Schopenhauer's <q>will,</q> +through the philosophic craze for generalisation, +already turned out to be a bane to knowledge. For +this will was made into a poetic metaphor, when it +was held that all things in nature possess will. +Finally, that it might be applied to all kinds of +disordered mysticism, the word was misused by a +fraudulent convention. So now all our fashionable +philosophers repeat it and seem to be perfectly +certain that all things have a will and are in fact +One Will. According to the description generally +given of this All-One-Will, this is much as if one +should positively try to have the stupid Devil for +one's God. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>6.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Against Visionaries.</hi>—The visionary denies +the truth to himself, the liar only to others. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>7.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Enmity to Light.</hi>—If we make it clear to any +one that, strictly, he can never speak of truth, but +only of probability and of its degrees, we generally +discover, from the undisguised joy of our pupil, +how greatly men prefer the uncertainty of their intellectual +horizon, and how in their heart of hearts +they hate truth because of its definiteness.—Is this +due to a secret fear felt by all that the light of truth +may at some time be turned too brightly upon themselves? +To their wish to be of some consequence, +and accordingly their concealment from the world of +<pb n='016'/><anchor id='Pg016'/> +what they are? Or is it to be traced to their horror +of the all-too brilliant light, to which their crepuscular, +easily dazzled, bat-like souls are not accustomed, +so that hate it they must? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>8.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Christian Scepticism.</hi>—Pilate, with his question, +<q>What is Truth?</q> is now gleefully brought on +the scene as an advocate of Christ, in order to cast +suspicion on all that is known or knowable as being +mere appearance, and to erect the Cross on the appalling +background of the Impossibility of Knowledge. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>9.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><q>Natural Law,</q> a Phrase of Superstition.</hi>—When +you talk so delightedly of Nature acting +according to law, you must either assume that all +things in Nature follow their law from a voluntary +obedience imposed by themselves—in which case +you admire the morality of Nature: or you are enchanted +with the idea of a creative mechanician, +who has made a most cunning watch with human +beings as accessory ornaments.—Necessity, through +the expression, <q>conformity to law,</q> then becomes +more human and a coign of refuge in the last instance +for mythological reveries. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>10.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Fallen Forfeit to History.</hi>—All misty +philosophers and obscurers of the world, in other +words all metaphysicians of coarse or refined texture +<pb n='017'/><anchor id='Pg017'/> +are seized with eyeache, earache, and toothache +when they begin to suspect that there is truth in +the saying: <q>All philosophy has from now fallen +forfeit to history.</q> In view of their aches and pains +we may pardon them for throwing stones and filth +at him who talks like this, but this teaching may +itself thereby become dirty and disreputable for a +time and lose in effect. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>11.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Pessimist of the Intellect.</hi>—He whose +intellect is really free will think freely about the intellect +itself, and will not shut his eyes to certain +terrible aspects of its source and tendency. For +this reason others will perhaps designate him the +bitterest opponent of free thought and give him that +dreadful, abusive name of <q>pessimist of the intellect</q>: +accustomed as they are to typify a man +not by his strong point, his pre-eminent virtue, but +by the quality that is most foreign to his nature. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>12.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Metaphysicians' Knapsack.</hi>—To all +who talk so boastfully of the scientific basis of +their metaphysics it is best to make no reply. +It is enough to tug at the bundle that they +rather shyly keep hidden behind their backs. +If one succeeds in lifting it, the results of that +<q>scientific basis</q> come to light, to their great +confusion: a dear little <q>God,</q> a genteel immortality, +perhaps a little spiritualism, and in any case +<pb n='018'/><anchor id='Pg018'/> +a complicated mass of poor-sinners'-misery and +pharisee-arrogance. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>13.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Occasional Harmfulness of Knowledge.</hi>—The +utility involved in the unchecked investigation of +knowledge is so constantly proved in a hundred +different ways that one must remember to include in +the bargain the subtler and rarer damage which +individuals must suffer on that account. The chemist +cannot avoid occasionally being poisoned or burnt +at his experiments. What applies to the chemist, +is true of the whole of our culture. This, it may be +added, clearly shows that knowledge should provide +itself with healing balsam against burns and should +always have antidotes ready against poisons. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>14.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Craving of the Philistine.</hi>—The Philistine +thinks that his most urgent need is a purple +patch or turban of metaphysics, nor will he let it +slip. Yet he would look less ridiculous without +this adornment. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>15.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Enthusiasts.</hi>—With all that enthusiasts say in +favour of their gospel or their master they are defending +themselves, however much they comport +themselves as the judges and not the accused: +because they are involuntarily reminded almost at +every moment that they are exceptions and have +to assert their legitimacy. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='019'/><anchor id='Pg019'/> + +<div> +<head>16.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Good Seduces to Life.</hi>—All good things, +even all good books that are written against life, +are strong means of attraction to life. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>17.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Happiness of the Historian.</hi>—<q>When +we hear the hair-splitting metaphysicians and prophets +of the after-world speak, we others feel indeed +that we are the <q>poor in spirit,</q> but that ours is +the heavenly kingdom of change, with spring and +autumn, summer and winter, and theirs the after-world, +with its grey, everlasting frosts and shadows.</q> +Thus soliloquised a man as he walked in the +morning sunshine, a man who in his pursuit of +history has constantly changed not only his mind +but his heart. In contrast to the metaphysicians, +he is happy to harbour in himself not an <q>immortal +soul</q> but many <emph>mortal</emph> souls. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>18.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Three Varieties of Thinkers.</hi>—There are +streaming, flowing, trickling mineral springs, and +three corresponding varieties of thinkers. The layman +values them by the volume of the water, +the expert by the contents of the water—in other +words, by the elements in them that are not water. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>19.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Picture of Life.</hi>—The task of painting +the picture of life, often as it has been attempted +<pb n='020'/><anchor id='Pg020'/> +by poets and philosophers, is nevertheless irrational. +Even in the hands of the greatest artist-thinkers, +pictures and miniatures of one life only—their own—have +come into being, and indeed no other result +is possible. While in the process of developing, a +thing that develops, cannot mirror itself as fixed +and permanent, as a <emph>definite object</emph>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>20.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Truth will have no Gods before it.</hi>—The +belief in truth begins with the doubt of all truths in +which one has previously believed. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>21.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Where Silence is Required.</hi>—If we speak of +freethinking as of a highly dangerous journey over +glaciers and frozen seas, we find that those who do +not care to travel on this track are offended, as if +they had been reproached with cowardice and +weak knees. The difficult, which we find to be beyond +our powers, must not even be mentioned in +our presence. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>22.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Historia in Nuce.</hi>—The most serious parody +I ever heard was this: <q>In the beginning was the +nonsense, and the nonsense was with God, and the +nonsense was God.</q><note place='foot'>Cf. John i. 1.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='021'/><anchor id='Pg021'/> + +<div> +<head>23.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Incurable.</hi>—The idealist is incorrigible: if he +be thrown out of his Heaven, he makes himself a +suitable ideal out of Hell. Disillusion him, and lo! +he will embrace disillusionment with no less ardour +than he recently embraced hope. In so far as his +impulse belongs to the great incurable impulses of +human nature, he can bring about tragic destinies +and later become a subject for tragedy himself, for +such tragedies as deal with the incurable, implacable, +inevitable in the lot and character of man. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>24.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Applause Itself as the Continuation of +the Play.</hi>—Sparkling eyes and an amiable smile +are the tributes of applause paid to all the great +comedy of world and existence—but this applause +is a comedy within a comedy, meant to tempt the +other spectators to a <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>plaudite amici</foreign>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>25.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Courage for Tedium.</hi>—He who has not the +courage to allow himself and his work to be considered +tedious, is certainly no intellect of the first +rank, whether in the arts or in the sciences.—A +scoffer, who happened for once in a way to be a +thinker, might add, with a glance at the world and +at history: <q>God did not possess this courage, for +he wanted to make and he made all things so interesting.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='022'/><anchor id='Pg022'/> + +<div> +<head>26.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>From the Most Intimate Experience of +the Thinker.</hi>—Nothing is harder for a man than +to conceive of an object impersonally, I mean to +see in it an object and not a person. One may +even ask whether it is possible for him to dispense +for a single moment with the machinery of +his instinct to create and construct a personality. +After all, he associates with his thoughts, however +abstract they may be, as with individuals, against +whom he must fight or to whom he must attach +himself, whom he must protect, support and nourish. +Let us watch or listen to ourselves at the moment +when we hear or discover a new idea. Perhaps it +displeases us because it is so defiant and so autocratic, +and we unconsciously ask ourselves whether +we cannot place a contradiction of it by its side as +an enemy, or fasten on to it a <q>perhaps</q> or a +<q>sometimes</q>: the mere little word <q>probably</q> +gives us a feeling of satisfaction, for it shatters the +oppressive tyranny of the unconditional. If, on the +other hand, the new idea enters in gentle shape, +sweetly patient and humble, and falling at once +into the arms of contradiction, we put our autocracy +to the test in another way. Can we not come to +the aid of this weak creature, stroke it and feed it, +give it strength and fulness, and truth and even +unconditionality? Is it possible for us to show +ourselves parental or chivalrous or compassionate +towards our idea?—Then again, we see here a +judgment and there a judgment, sundered from +each other, never looking at or making any movement +<pb n='023'/><anchor id='Pg023'/> +towards each other. So we are tickled by +the thought, whether it be not here feasible to make +a match, to draw a <emph>conclusion</emph>, with the anticipation +that if a consequence follows this conclusion it is +not only the two judgments united in wedlock but +the matchmakers that will gain honour. If, however, +we cannot acquire a hold upon that thought +either on the path of defiance and ill-will or on that +of good-will (if we hold it to be true)—then we +submit to it and do homage to it as a leader and a +prince, give it a chair of honour, and speak not of +it without a flourish of trumpets: for we are bright +in its brightness. Woe to him who tries to dim +this brightness! Perhaps we ourselves one day +grow suspicious of our idea. Then we, the indefatigable +<q>king-makers</q> of the history of the intellect, +cast it down from its throne and immediately +exalt its adversary. Surely if this be considered +and thought out a little further, no one will speak of +an <q>absolute impulse to knowledge</q>! +</p> + +<p> +Why, then, does man prefer the true to the untrue, +in this secret combat with thought-personalities, +in this generally clandestine match-making of +thoughts, constitution-founding of thoughts, child-rearing +of thoughts, nursing and almsgiving of +thoughts? For the same reason that he practises +honesty in intercourse with real persons: <emph>now</emph> from +habit, heredity, and training, <emph>originally</emph> because the +true, like the fair and the just, is more expedient and +more reputable than the untrue. For in the realm of +thought it is difficult to assume a power and glory +that are built on error or on falsehood. The feeling +that such an edifice might at some time collapse is +<pb n='024'/><anchor id='Pg024'/> +humiliating to the self-esteem of the architect—he is +ashamed of the fragility of the material, and, as he +considers himself more important than the rest of +the world, he would fain construct nothing that is +less durable than the rest of the world. In his longing +for truth he embraces the belief in a personal +immortality, the most arrogant and defiant idea +that exists, closely allied as it is to the underlying +thought, <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>pereat mundus, dum ego salvus sim!</foreign> +His work has become his <q>ego,</q> he transforms +himself into the Imperishable with its universal +challenge. It is his immeasurable pride that will +only employ the best and hardest stones for the +work—truths, or what he holds for such. Arrogance +has always been justly called the <q>vice of +the sage</q>; yet without this vice, fruitful in impulses, +Truth and her status on earth would be in +a parlous plight. In our propensity to fear our +thoughts, concepts and words, and yet to honour +ourselves in them, unconsciously to ascribe to +them the power of rewarding, despising, praising, +and blaming us, and so to associate with them as +with free intellectual personalities, as with independent +powers, as with our equals—herein lie the +roots of the remarkable phenomenon which I have +called <q>intellectual conscience.</q> Thus something +of the highest moral species has bloomed from a +black root. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>27.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Obscurantists.</hi>—The essential feature of +the black art of obscurantism is not its intention +of clouding the brain, but its attempt to darken +<pb n='025'/><anchor id='Pg025'/> +the picture of the world and cloud our idea of +existence. It often employs the method of thwarting +all illumination of the intellect, but at times +it uses the very opposite means, seeking by the +highest refinement of the intellect to induce a +satiety of the intellect's fruits. Hair-splitting metaphysicians, +who pave the way for scepticism and +by their excessive acumen provoke a distrust of +acumen, are excellent instruments of the more +subtle form of obscurantism.—Is it possible that +even Kant may be applied to this purpose? Did +he even <emph>intend</emph> something of the sort, for a time at +least, to judge from his own notorious exposition: +<q>to clear the way for belief by setting limitations +to knowledge</q>?—Certainly he did not succeed, nor +did his followers, on the wolf and fox tracks of this +highly refined and dangerous form of obscurantism—the +most dangerous of all, for the black art +here appears in the garb of light. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>28.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>By what Kind of Philosophy Art is +Corrupted.</hi>—When the mists of a metaphysical-mystical +philosophy succeed in making all æsthetic +phenomena <emph>opaque</emph>, it follows that these phenomena +cannot be comparatively valued, inasmuch as each +becomes individually inexplicable. But when once +they cannot be compared for the sake of valuation, +there arises an entire absence-of-criticism, a blind +indulgence. From this source springs a continual +diminution of the enjoyment of art (which is only +distinguished from the crude satisfaction of a need +<pb n='026'/><anchor id='Pg026'/> +by the highest refinement of taste and appreciation). +The more taste diminishes, the more does the desire +for art change and revert to a vulgar hunger, which +the artist henceforth seeks to appease by ever coarser +fare. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>29.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>On Gethsemane.</hi>—The most painful thing a +thinker can say to artists is: <q>Could ye not <emph>watch</emph> +with me one hour?</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>30.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>At the Loom.</hi>—There are many (artists and +women, for instance) who work against the few +that take a pleasure in untying the knot of things +and unravelling their woof. The former always +want to weave the woof together again and entangle +it and so turn the conceived into the unconceived +and if possible inconceivable. Whatever +the result may be, the woof and knot always look +rather untidy, because too many hands are working +and tugging at them. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>31.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>In the Desert of Science.</hi>—As the man of +science proceeds on his modest and toilsome +wanderings, which must often enough be journeys +in the desert, he is confronted with those brilliant +mirages known as <q>philosophic systems.</q> With +magic powers of deception they show him that +the solution of all riddles and the most refreshing +draught of true water of life are close at hand. His +weary heart rejoices, and he well-nigh touches with +<pb n='027'/><anchor id='Pg027'/> +his lips the goal of all scientific endurance and +hardship, so that almost unconsciously he presses +forward. Other natures stand still, as if spellbound +by the beautiful illusion: the desert swallows them +up, they become lost to science. Other natures, +again, that have often experienced these subjective +consolations, become very disheartened and curse +the salty taste which these mirages leave behind in +the mouth and from which springs a raging thirst—without +one's having come one step nearer to any +sort of a spring. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>32.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The So-called <q>Real Reality.</q></hi>—When the +poet depicts the various callings—such as those of +the warrior, the silk-weaver, the sailor—he feigns to +know all these things thoroughly, to be an expert. +Even in the exposition of human actions and destinies +he behaves as if he had been present at the +spinning of the whole web of existence. In so far +he is an impostor. He practises his frauds on pure +ignoramuses, and that is why he succeeds. They +praise him for his deep, genuine knowledge, and +lead him finally into the delusion that he really +knows as much as the individual experts and +creators, yes, even as the great world-spinners +themselves. In the end, the impostor becomes +honest, and actually believes in his own sincerity. +Emotional people say to his very face that he has +the <q>higher</q> truth and sincerity—for they are +weary of reality for the time being, and accept the +poetic dream as a pleasant relaxation and a night's +rest for head and heart. The visions of the dream +<pb n='028'/><anchor id='Pg028'/> +now appear to them of more value, because, as has +been said, they find them more beneficial, and mankind +has always held that what is apparently of +more value is more true, more real. All that is +generally called reality, the poets, conscious of this +power, proceed with intention to disparage and to +distort into the uncertain, the illusory, the spurious, +the impure, the sinful, sorrowful, and deceitful. They +make use of all doubts about the limits of knowledge, +of all sceptical excesses, in order to spread over everything +the rumpled veil of uncertainty. For they +desire that when this darkening process is complete +their wizardry and soul-magic may be accepted +without hesitation as the path to <q>true truth</q> and +<q>real reality.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>33.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Wish to be Just and the Wish to be +a Judge.</hi>—Schopenhauer, whose profound understanding +of what is human and all-too-human and +original sense for facts was not a little impaired by +the bright leopard-skin of his metaphysic (the skin +must first be pulled off him if one wants to find the +real moralist genius beneath)—Schopenhauer makes +this admirable distinction, wherein he comes far +nearer the mark than he would himself dare to admit: +<q>Insight into the stern necessity of human +actions is the boundary line that divides philosophic +from other brains.</q> He worked against that +wonderful insight of which he was sometimes +capable by the prejudice that he had in common +with the moral man (not the moralist), a prejudice +that he expresses quite guilelessly and devoutly as +<pb n='029'/><anchor id='Pg029'/> +follows: <q>The ultimate and true explanation of the +inner being of the entirety of things must of necessity +be closely connected with that about the ethical +significance of human actions.</q> This connection is +not <q>necessary</q> at all: such a connection must +rather be rejected by that principle of the stern +necessity of human actions, that is, the unconditioned +non-freedom and non-responsibility of the will. +Philosophic brains will accordingly be distinguished +from others by their disbelief in the metaphysical +significance of morality. This must create between +the two kinds of brain a gulf of a depth and unbridgeableness +of which the much-deplored gulf +between <q>cultured</q> and <q>uncultured</q> scarcely gives +a conception. It is true that many back doors, which +the <q>philosophic brains,</q> like Schopenhauer's own, +have left for themselves, must be recognised as +useless. None leads into the open, into the fresh +air of the free will, but every door through which +people had slipped hitherto showed behind it once +more the gleaming brass wall of fate. For we are +in a prison, and can only dream of freedom, not +make ourselves free. That the recognition of this +fact cannot be resisted much longer is shown by +the despairing and incredible postures and grimaces +of those who still press against it and continue their +wrestling-bout with it. Their attitude at present +is something like this: <q>So no one is responsible +for his actions? And all is full of guilt and the +consciousness of guilt? But some one <emph>must</emph> be the +sinner. If it is no longer possible or permissible +to accuse and sentence the individual, the one poor +wave in the inevitable rough-and-tumble of the +<pb n='030'/><anchor id='Pg030'/> +waves of development—well, then, let this stormy +sea, this development itself, be the sinner. Here is +free will: this totality can be accused and sentenced, +can atone and expiate. <emph>So let God be the sinner and +man his redeemer.</emph> Let the world's history be guilt, +expiation, and self-murder. Let the evil-doer be his +own judge, the judge his own hangman.</q> This +Christianity strained to its limits—for what else is +it?—is the last thrust in the fencing-match between +the teaching of unconditioned morality and the +teaching of unconditioned non-freedom. It would +be quite horrible if it were anything more than a +logical pose, a hideous grimace of the underlying +thought, perhaps the death-convulsion of the heart +that seeks a remedy in its despair, the heart to which +delirium whispers: <q>Behold, thou art the lamb +which taketh away the sin of God.</q> This error lies +not only in the feeling, <q>I am responsible,</q> but just as +much in the contradiction, <q>I am not responsible, +but some one must be.</q> That is simply not true. +Hence the philosopher must say, like Christ, <q>Judge +not,</q> and the final distinction between the philosophic +brains and the others would be that the +former wish to be just and the latter wish to be +judges. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>34.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Sacrifice.</hi>—You hold that sacrifice is the hallmark +of moral action?—Just consider whether in +every action that is done with deliberation, in the +best as in the worst, there be not a sacrifice. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='031'/><anchor id='Pg031'/> + +<div> +<head>35.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Against the <q>Triers of the Reins</q> of +Morality.</hi>—One must know the best and the +worst that a man is capable of in theory and in +practice before one can judge how strong his moral +nature is and can be. But this is an experiment +that one can never carry out. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>36.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Serpent's Tooth.</hi>—Whether we have a serpent's +tooth or not we cannot know before some one has +set his heel upon our necks. A wife or a mother +could say: until some one has put his heel upon the +neck of our darling, our child.—Our character is +determined more by the absence of certain experiences +than by the experiences we have undergone. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>37.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Deception in Love.</hi>—We forget and purposely +banish from our minds a good deal of our past. +In other words, we wish our picture, that beams at +us from the past, to belie us, to flatter our vanity—we +are constantly engaged in this self-deception. +And you who talk and boast so much of <q>self-oblivion +in love,</q> of the <q>absorption of the ego in +the other person</q>—you hold that this is something +different? So you break the mirror, throw yourselves +into another personality that you admire, +and enjoy the new portrait of your ego, though +calling it by the other person's name—and this +<pb n='032'/><anchor id='Pg032'/> +whole proceeding is not to be thought self-deception, +self-seeking, you marvellous beings?—It seems to +me that those who hide something of themselves +from themselves, or hide their whole selves from +themselves, are alike committing a theft from the +treasury of knowledge. It is clear, then, against +what transgression the maxim <q>Know thyself</q> is +a warning. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>38.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To the Denier of his Vanity.</hi>—He who +denies his own vanity usually possesses it in so +brutal a form that he instinctively shuts his eyes +to avoid the necessity of despising himself. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>39.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Why the Stupid so often Become Malignant.</hi>—To +those arguments of our adversary +against which our head feels too weak our heart +replies by throwing suspicion on the motives of his +arguments. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>40.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Art of Moral Exceptions.</hi>—An art that +points out and glorifies the exceptional cases of +morality—where the good becomes bad and the +unjust just—should rarely be given a hearing: just +as now and again we buy something from gipsies, +with the fear that they are diverting to their own +pockets much more than their mere profit from the +purchase. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='033'/><anchor id='Pg033'/> + +<div> +<head>41.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Enjoyment and Non-enjoyment of Poisons.</hi>—The +only decisive argument that has always +deterred men from drinking a poison is not that it +is deadly, but that it has an unpleasant taste. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>42.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The World without Consciousness of Sin.</hi>—If +men only committed such deeds as do not +give rise to a bad conscience, the human world +would still look bad and rascally enough, but not +so sickly and pitiable as at present.—Enough +wicked men without conscience have existed at all +times, and many good honest folk lack the feeling +of pleasure in a good conscience. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>43.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Conscientious.</hi>—It is more convenient to +follow one's conscience than one's intelligence, for +at every failure conscience finds an excuse and an +encouragement in itself. That is why there are so +many conscientious and so few intelligent people. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>44.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Opposite Means of Avoiding Bitterness.</hi>—One +temperament finds it useful to be able to give +vent to its disgust in words, being made sweeter by +speech. Another reaches its full bitterness only by +speaking out: it is more advisable for it to have to +gulp down something—the restraint that men of this +<pb n='034'/><anchor id='Pg034'/> +stamp place upon themselves in the presence of +enemies and superiors improves their character and +prevents it from becoming too acrid and sour. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>45.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Not to be Too Dejected.</hi>—To get bed-sores +is unpleasant, but no proof against the merits of the +cure that prescribes that you should take to your +bed. Men who have long lived outside themselves, +and have at last devoted themselves to the inward +philosophic life, know that one can also get sores of +character and intellect. This, again, is on the whole +no argument against the chosen way of life, but +necessitates a few small exceptions and apparent +relapses. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>46.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Human <q>Thing in Itself.</q></hi>—The most +vulnerable and yet most unconquerable of things +is human vanity: nay, through being wounded its +strength increases and can grow to giant proportions. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>47.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Farce of Many Industrious Persons.</hi>—By +an excess of effort they win leisure for themselves, +and then they can do nothing with it but +count the hours until the tale is ended. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>48.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Possession of Joy Abounding.</hi>—He that +has joy abounding must be a good man, but perhaps +<pb n='035'/><anchor id='Pg035'/> +he is not the cleverest of men, although he has +reached the very goal towards which the cleverest +man is striving with all his cleverness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>49.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>In the Mirror of Nature.</hi>—Is not a man +fairly well described, when we are told that he likes +to walk between tall fields of golden corn: that he +prefers the forest and flower colours of sere and +chilly autumn to all others, because they point to +something more beautiful than Nature has ever +attained: that he feels as much at home under big +broad-leaved walnut trees as among his nearest +kinsfolk: that in the mountains his greatest joy is to +come across those tiny distant lakes from which the +very eyes of solitude seem to peer at him: that he +loves that grey calm of the misty twilight that steals +along the windows on autumn and early winter +evenings and shuts out all soulless sounds as with +velvet curtains: that in unhewn stones he recognises +the last remaining traces of the primeval age, eager +for speech, and honours them from childhood upwards: +that, lastly, the sea with its shifting serpent +skin and wild-beast beauty is, and remains to him, +unfamiliar?—Yes, something of the man is described +herewith, but the mirror of Nature does not say that +the same man, with (and not even <q>in spite of</q>) all +his idyllic sensibilities, might be disagreeable, stingy, +and conceited. Horace, who was a good judge of +such matters, in his famous <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>beatus ille qui procul +negotiis</foreign> puts the tenderest feeling for country life +into the mouth of a Roman money-lender. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='036'/><anchor id='Pg036'/> + +<div> +<head>50.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Power without Victory.</hi>—The strongest cognition +(that of the complete non-freedom of the human +will) is yet the poorest in results, for it has always +had the mightiest of opponents—human vanity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>51.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pleasure and Error.</hi>—A beneficial influence +on friends is exerted by one man unconsciously, +through his nature; by another consciously, through +isolated actions. Although the former nature is +held to be the higher, the latter alone is allied to +good conscience and pleasure—the pleasure in justification +by good works, which rests upon a belief in +the volitional character of our good and evil doing—that +is to say, upon a mistake. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>52.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Folly of Committing Injustice.</hi>—The +injustice we have inflicted ourselves is far harder to +bear than the injustice inflicted upon us by others (not +always from moral grounds, be it observed). After all, +the doer is always the sufferer—that is, if he be capable +of feeling the sting of conscience or of perceiving that +by his action he has armed society against himself +and cut himself off. For this reason we should beware +still more of doing than of suffering injustice, +for the sake of our own inward happiness—so as +not to lose our feeling of well-being—quite apart +from any consideration of the precepts of religion +and morality. For in suffering injustice we have +<pb n='037'/><anchor id='Pg037'/> +the consolation of a good conscience, of hope and of +revenge, together with the sympathy and applause of +the just, nay of the whole of society, which is afraid +of the evil-doer. Not a few are skilled in the impure +self-deception that enables them to transform every +injustice of their own into an injustice inflicted upon +them from without, and to reserve for their own acts +the exceptional right to the plea of self-defence. +Their object, of course, is to make their own burden +lighter. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>53.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Envy with or without a Mouthpiece.</hi>—Ordinary +envy is wont to cackle when the envied +hen has laid an egg, thereby relieving itself and becoming +milder. But there is a yet deeper envy that +in such a case becomes dead silent, desiring that +every mouth should be sealed and always more and +more angry because this desire is not gratified. +Silent envy grows in silence. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>54.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Anger as a Spy.</hi>—Anger exhausts the soul and +brings its very dregs to light. Hence, if we know +no other means of gaining certainty, we must understand +how to arouse anger in our dependents and +adversaries, in order to learn what is really done and +thought to our detriment. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>55.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Defence Morally more Difficult than +Attack.</hi>—The true heroic deed and masterpiece of +<pb n='038'/><anchor id='Pg038'/> +the good man does not lie in attacking opinions and +continuing to love their propounders, but in the far +harder task of defending his own position without +causing or intending to cause bitter heartburns to +his opponent. The sword of attack is honest and +broad, the sword of defence usually runs out to a +needle point. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>56.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Honest towards Honesty.</hi>—One who is +openly honest towards himself ends by being rather +conceited about this honesty. He knows only too +well why he is honest—for the same reason that +another man prefers outward show and hypocrisy. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>57.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Coals of Fire.</hi>—The heaping of coals of fire on +another's head is generally misunderstood and falls +flat, because the other knows himself to be just as +much in the right, and on his side too has thought +of collecting coals. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>58.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Dangerous Books.</hi>—A man says: <q>Judging +from my own case, I find that this book is harmful.</q> +Let him but wait, and perhaps one day he will confess +that the book did him a great service by thrusting +forward and bringing to light the hidden disease +of his soul.—Altered opinions alter not at all (or +very little) the character of a man: but they illuminate +individual facets of his personality, which +hitherto, in another constellation of opinions, had +remained dark and unrecognisable. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='039'/><anchor id='Pg039'/> + +<div> +<head>59.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Simulated Pity.</hi>—We simulate pity when we +wish to show ourselves superior to the feeling of +animosity, but generally in vain. This point is not +noticed without a considerable enhancement of that +feeling of animosity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>60.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Open Contradiction often Conciliatory.</hi>—At +the moment when a man openly makes known +his difference of opinion from a well-known party +leader, the whole world thinks that he must be +angry with the latter. Sometimes, however, he is +just on the point of ceasing to be angry with him. +He ventures to put himself on the same plane as +his opponent, and is free from the tortures of suppressed +envy. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>61.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Seeing our Light Shining.</hi>—In the darkest +hour of depression, sickness, and guilt, we are still +glad to see others taking a light from us and making +use of us as of the disk of the moon. By this roundabout +route we derive some light from our own illuminating +faculty. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>62.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Fellowship in Joy.</hi><note place='foot'>The German word <foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Mitfreude</foreign>, coined by Nietzsche in +opposition to <foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Mitleid</foreign> (sympathy), is untranslateable.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note>—The snake that stings +us means to hurt us and rejoices in so doing: the +lowest animal can picture to itself the <emph>pain</emph> of others. +<pb n='040'/><anchor id='Pg040'/> +But to picture to oneself the <emph>joy</emph> of others and to +rejoice thereat is the highest privilege of the highest +animals, and again, amongst them, is the property +only of the most select specimens—accordingly a +rare <q>human thing.</q> Hence there have been philosophers +who denied fellowship in joy. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>63.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Supplementary Pregnancy.</hi>—Those who have +arrived at works and deeds are in an obscure way, +they know not how, all the more pregnant with them, +as if to prove supplementarily that these are their +children and not those of chance. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>64.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Hard-hearted from Vanity.</hi>—Just as justice +is so often a cloak for weakness, so men who are +fairly intelligent, but weak, sometimes attempt dissimulation +from ambitious motives and purposely +show themselves unjust and hard, in order to leave +behind them the impression of strength. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>65.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Humiliation.</hi>—If in a large sack of profit we +find a single grain of humiliation we still make a +wry face even at our good luck. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>66.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Extreme Herostratism.</hi><note place='foot'>Herostratus of Ephesus (in 356 <hi rend='smallcaps'>b.c.</hi>) set fire to the temple +of Diana in order (as he confessed on the rack) to gain +notoriety.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note>—There might be +<pb n='041'/><anchor id='Pg041'/> +Herostratuses who set fire to their own temple, in +which their images are honoured. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>67.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A World of Diminutives.</hi>—The fact that all +that is weak and in need of help appeals to the +heart induces in us the habit of designating by +diminutive and softening terms all that appeals to +our hearts—and accordingly <emph>making</emph> such things +weak and clinging to our imaginations. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>68.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Bad Characteristic of Sympathy.</hi>—Sympathy +has a peculiar impudence for its companion. +For, wishing to help at all costs, sympathy +is in no perplexity either as to the means of assistance +or as to the nature and cause of the disease, +and goes on courageously administering all its +quack medicines to restore the health and reputation +of the patient. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>69.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Importunacy.</hi>—There is even an importunacy +in relation to works, and the act of associating oneself +from early youth on an intimate footing with +the illustrious works of all times evinces an entire +absence of shame.—Others are only importunate +from ignorance, not knowing with whom they have +to do—for instance classical scholars young and old +in relation to the works of the Greeks. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='042'/><anchor id='Pg042'/> + +<div> +<head>70.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Will is Ashamed of the Intellect.</hi>—In +all coolness we make reasonable plans against +our passions. But we make the most serious mistake +in this connection in being often ashamed, +when the design has to be carried out, of the coolness +and calculation with which we conceived it. +So we do just the unreasonable thing, from that +sort of defiant magnanimity that every passion involves. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>71.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Why the Sceptics Offend Morality.</hi>—He +who takes his morality solemnly and seriously is +enraged against the sceptics in the domain of morals. +For where he lavishes all his force, he wishes others +to marvel but not to investigate and doubt. Then +there are natures whose last shred of morality is +just the belief in morals. They behave in the same +way towards sceptics, if possible still more passionately. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>72.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Shyness.</hi>—All moralists are shy, because they +know they are confounded with spies and traitors, +so soon as their penchant is noticed. Besides, they +are generally conscious of being impotent in action, +for in the midst of work the motives of their activity +almost withdraw their attention from the work. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>73.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Danger to Universal Morality.</hi>—People +who are at the same time noble and honest come +<pb n='043'/><anchor id='Pg043'/> +to deify every devilry that brings out their honesty, +and to suspend for a time the balance of their moral +judgment. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>74.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Saddest Error.</hi>—It is an unpardonable +offence when one discovers that where one was convinced +of being loved, one is only regarded as a +household utensil and decoration, whereby the +master of the house can find an outlet for his +vanity before his guests. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>75.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Love and Duality.</hi>—What else is love but +understanding and rejoicing that another lives, +works, and feels in a different and opposite way to +ourselves? That love may be able to bridge over +the contrasts by joys, we must not remove or deny +those contrasts. Even self-love presupposes an irreconcileable +duality (or plurality) in one person. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>76.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Signs from Dreams.</hi>—What one sometimes +does not know and feel accurately in waking hours—whether +one has a good or a bad conscience as +regards some person—is revealed completely and +unambiguously by dreams. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>77.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Debauchery.</hi>—Not joy but joylessness is the +mother of debauchery. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='044'/><anchor id='Pg044'/> + +<div> +<head>78.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Reward and Punishment.</hi>—No one accuses +without an underlying notion of punishment and +revenge, even when he accuses his fate or himself. +All complaint is accusation, all self-congratulation +is praise. Whether we do one or the other, we +always make some one responsible. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>79.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Doubly Unjust.</hi>—We sometimes advance truth +by a twofold injustice: when we see and represent +consecutively the two sides of a case which we are +not in a position to see together, but in such a way +that every time we mistake or deny the other side, +fancying that what we see is the whole truth. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>80.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mistrust.</hi>—Self-mistrust does not always proceed +uncertainly and shyly, but sometimes in a +furious rage, having worked itself into a frenzy in +order not to tremble. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>81.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Philosophy of Parvenus.</hi>—If you want to be +a personality you must even hold your shadow in +honour. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>82.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Knowing how to Wash Oneself Clean.</hi>—We +must know how to emerge cleaner from unclean +conditions, and, if necessary, how to wash ourselves +even with dirty water. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='045'/><anchor id='Pg045'/> + +<div> +<head>83.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Letting Yourself Go.</hi>—The more you let +yourself go, the less others let you go. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>84.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Innocent Rogue.</hi>—There is a slow, gradual +path to vice and rascality of every description. +In the end, the traveller is quite abandoned by the +insect-swarms of a bad conscience, and although a +thorough scoundrel he walks in innocence. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>85.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Making Plans.</hi>—Making plans and conceiving +projects involves many agreeable sentiments. He +that had the strength to be nothing but a contriver +of plans all his life would be a happy man. But +one must occasionally have a rest from this activity +by carrying a plan into execution, and then comes +anger and sobriety. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>86.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Wherewith We See the Ideal.</hi>—Every efficient +man is blocked by his efficiency and cannot +look out freely from its prison. Had he not also +a goodly share of imperfection, he could, by reason +of his virtue, never arrive at an intellectual or moral +freedom. Our shortcomings are the eyes with +which we see the ideal. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>87.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Dishonest Praise.</hi>—Dishonest praise causes +many more twinges of conscience than dishonest +<pb n='046'/><anchor id='Pg046'/> +blame, probably only because we have exposed our +capacity for judgment far more completely through +excessive praise than through excessive and unjust +blame. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>88.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How One Dies is Indifferent.</hi>—The whole +way in which a man thinks of death during the prime +of his life and strength is very expressive and significant +for what we call his character. But the hour +of death itself, his behaviour on the death-bed, is +almost indifferent. The exhaustion of waning life, +especially when old people die, the irregular or insufficient +nourishment of the brain during this last +period, the occasionally violent pain, the novel and +untried nature of the whole position, and only too +often the ebb and flow of superstitious impressions +and fears, as if dying were of much consequence and +meant the crossing of bridges of the most terrible +kind—all this forbids our using death as a testimony +concerning the living. Nor is it true that the dying +man is generally more honest than the living. On +the contrary, through the solemn attitude of the +bystanders, the repressed or flowing streams of tears +and emotions, every one is inveigled into a comedy +of vanity, now conscious, now unconscious. The +serious way in which every dying man is treated +must have been to many a poor despised devil the +highest joy of his whole life and a sort of compensation +and repayment for many privations. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>89.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Morality and its Sacrifice.</hi>—The origin of +morality may be traced to two ideas: <q>The community +<pb n='047'/><anchor id='Pg047'/> +is of more value than the individual,</q> and +<q>The permanent interest is to be preferred to the +temporary.</q> The conclusion drawn is that the permanent +interest of the community is unconditionally +to be set above the temporary interest of the individual, +especially his momentary well-being, but also +his permanent interest and even the prolongation +of his existence. Even if the individual suffers +by an arrangement that suits the mass, even if he +is depressed and ruined by it, morality must be +maintained and the victim brought to the sacrifice. +Such a trend of thought arises, however, only in +those who are <emph>not</emph> the victims—for in the victim's +case it enforces the claim that the individual might +be worth more than the many, and that the present +enjoyment, the <q>moment in paradise,</q><note place='foot'>Quotation from Schiller, <hi rend='italic'>Don Carlos</hi>, i. 5.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> should perhaps +be rated higher than a tame succession of +untroubled or comfortable circumstances. But the +philosophy of the sacrificial victim always finds voice +too late, and so victory remains with morals and +morality: which are really nothing more than the +sentiment for the whole concept of morals under +which one lives and has been reared—and reared +not as an individual but as a member of the whole, +as a cipher in a majority. Hence it constantly +happens that the individual makes himself into a +majority by means of his morality. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>90.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Good and the Good Conscience.</hi>—You +hold that all good things have at all times had a +<pb n='048'/><anchor id='Pg048'/> +good conscience? Science, which is certainly a +very good thing, has come into the world without +such a conscience and quite free from all pathos, +rather clandestinely, by roundabout ways, walking +with shrouded or masked face like a sinner, and +always with the feeling at least of being a smuggler. +Good conscience has bad conscience for its stepping-stone, +not for its opposite. For all that is good has +at one time been new and consequently strange, +against morals, immoral, and has gnawed like a +worm at the heart of the fortunate discoverer. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>91.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Success Sanctifies the Intentions.</hi>—We +should not shrink from treading the road to a virtue, +even when we see clearly that nothing but egotism, +and accordingly utility, personal comfort, fear, considerations +of health, reputation, or glory, are the +impelling motives. These motives are styled ignoble +and selfish. Very well, but if they stimulate us to +some virtue—for example, self-denial, dutifulness, +order, thrift, measure, and moderation—let us listen +to them, whatever their epithets may be! For if +we reach the goal to which they summon us, then +the virtue we have attained, by means of the pure +air it makes us breathe and the spiritual well-being +it communicates, ennobles the remoter impulses of +our action, and afterwards we no longer perform +those actions from the same coarse motives that +inspired us before.—Education should therefore force +the virtues on the pupil, as far as possible, according +to his disposition. Then virtue, the sunshine and +<pb n='049'/><anchor id='Pg049'/> +summer atmosphere of the soul, can contribute her +own share of work and add mellowness and sweetness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>92.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Dabblers in Christianity, not Christians.</hi>—So +that is your Christianity!—To annoy humanity +you praise <q>God and His Saints,</q> and again when +you want to praise humanity you go so far that +God and His Saints must be annoyed.—I wish you +would at least learn Christian manners, as you are +so deficient in the civility of the Christian heart. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>93.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Religious and Irreligious Impression +of Nature.</hi>—A true believer must be to us an +object of veneration, but the same holds good of a +true, sincere, convinced unbeliever. With men of +the latter stamp we are near to the high mountains +where mighty rivers have their source, and with +believers we are under vigorous, shady, restful trees. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>94.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Judicial Murder.</hi>—The two greatest judicial +murders<note place='foot'>This, of course, refers to Jesus and Socrates.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> in the world's history are, to speak without +exaggeration, concealed and well-concealed suicide. +In both cases a man <emph>willed</emph> to die, and in both cases +he let his breast be pierced by the sword in the +hand of human injustice. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>95.</head> + +<p> +<q><hi rend='smallcaps'>Love.</hi></q>—The finest artistic conception wherein +Christianity had the advantage over other religious +<pb n='050'/><anchor id='Pg050'/> +systems lay in one word—Love. Hence it became +the <emph>lyric</emph> religion (whereas in its two other creations +Semitism bestowed heroico-epical religions upon +the world). In the word <q>love</q> there is so much +meaning, so much that stimulates and appeals to +memory and hope, that even the meanest intelligence +and the coldest heart feel some glimmering +of its sense. The cleverest woman and the lowest +man think of the comparatively unselfish moments +of their whole life, even if with them Eros never +soared high: and the vast number of beings who +<emph>miss</emph> love from their parents or children or sweethearts, +especially those whose sexual instincts have +been refined away, have found their heart's desire +in Christianity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>96.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Fulfilment of Christianity.</hi>—In +Christianity there is also an Epicurean trend of +thought, starting from the idea that God can only +demand of man, his creation and his image, what it +is possible for man to fulfil, and accordingly that +Christian virtue and perfection are attainable and +often attained. Now, for instance, the belief in loving +one's enemies—even if it is only a belief or fancy, +and by no means a psychological reality (a real +love)—gives unalloyed happiness, so long as it is +genuinely believed. (As to the reason of this, +psychologist and Christian might well differ.) +Hence earthly life, through the belief, I mean the +fancy, that it satisfies not only the injunction to +love our enemies, but all the other injunctions of +Christianity, and that it has really assimilated +<pb n='051'/><anchor id='Pg051'/> +and embodied in itself the Divine perfection according +to the command, <q>Be perfect as your Father +in heaven is perfect,</q> might actually become a +holy life. Thus error can make Christ's promise +come true. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>97.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Of the Future of Christianity.</hi>—We may +be allowed to form a conjecture as to the disappearance +of Christianity and as to the places +where it will be the slowest to retreat, if we consider +where and for what reasons Protestantism +spread with such startling rapidity. As is well +known, Protestantism promised to do far more +cheaply all that the old Church did, without costly +masses, pilgrimages, and priestly pomp and circumstance. +It spread particularly among the Northern +nations, which were not so deeply rooted as those +of the South in the old Church's symbolism and +love of ritual. In the South the more powerful +pagan religion survived in Christianity, whereas in +the North Christianity meant an opposition to +and a break with the old-time creed, and hence +was from the first more thoughtful and less sensual, +but for that very reason, in times of peril, more +fanatical and more obstinate. If from the standpoint +of <emph>thought</emph> we succeed in uprooting Christianity, +we can at once know the point where it will +begin to disappear—the very point at which it will +be most stubborn in defence. In other places it +will bend but not break, lose its leaves but burst +into leaf afresh, because the senses, and not thought, +have gone over to its side. But it is the senses +<pb n='052'/><anchor id='Pg052'/> +that maintain the belief that with all its expensive +outlay the Church is more cheaply and conveniently +managed than under the stern conditions of work +and wages. Yet what does one hold leisure (or +semi-idleness) to be worth, when once one has become +accustomed to it? The senses plead against +a dechristianised world, saying that there would +be too much work to do in it and an insufficient +supply of leisure. They take the part of magic—that +is, they let God work himself (<foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>oremus nos, Deus +laboret</foreign>). +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>98.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Theatricality and Honesty of Unbelievers.</hi>—There +is no book that contains in +such abundance or expresses so faithfully all that +man occasionally finds salutary—ecstatic inward +happiness, ready for sacrifice or death in the belief +in and contemplation of <emph>his</emph> truth—as the book +that tells of Christ. From that book a clever man +may learn all the means whereby a book can be +made into a world-book, a vade-mecum for all, and +especially that master-means of representing everything +as discovered, nothing as future and uncertain. +All influential books try to leave the same impression, +as if the widest intellectual horizon were circumscribed +here and as if about the sun that shines +here every constellation visible at present or in the +future must revolve.—Must not then all purely +scientific books be poor in influence on the same +grounds as such books are rich in influence? Is +not the book fated to live humble and among +humble folk, in order to be crucified in the end +and never resurrected? In relation to what the +<pb n='053'/><anchor id='Pg053'/> +religious inform us of their <q>knowledge</q> and their +<q>holy spirit,</q> are not all upright men of science +<q>poor in spirit</q>? Can any religion demand more +self-denial and draw the selfish out of themselves +more inexorably than science?—This and similar +things we may say, in any case with a certain +theatricality, when we have to defend ourselves +against believers, for it is impossible to conduct a +defence without a certain amount of theatricality. +But between ourselves our language must be more +honest, and we employ a freedom that those believers +are not even allowed, in their own interests, +to understand. Away, then, with the monastic +cowl of self-denial, with the appearance of humility! +Much more and much better—so rings our truth! +If science were not linked with the pleasure of +knowledge, the utility of the thing known, what +should we care for science? If a little faith, love, +and hope did not lead our souls to knowledge, +what would attract us to science? And if in science +the ego means nothing, still the inventive, happy +ego, every upright and industrious ego, means a +great deal in the republic of the men of science. +The homage of those who pay homage, the joy of +those whom we wish well or honour, in some cases +glory and a fair share of immortality, is the personal +reward for every suppression of personality: to say +nothing here of meaner views and rewards, although +it is just on this account that the majority have sworn +and always continue to swear fidelity to the laws of +the republic and of science. If we had not remained +in some degree unscientific, what would science +matter to us? Taking everything together and +<pb n='054'/><anchor id='Pg054'/> +speaking in plain language: <q>To a purely knowing +being knowledge would be indifferent.</q>—Not the +quality but the quantity of faith and devoutness +distinguishes us from the pious, the believers. We +are content with less. But should one of them cry +out to us: <q>Be content and show yourselves contented!</q> +we could easily answer: <q>As a matter +of fact, we do not belong to the most discontented +class. But you, if your faith makes you happy, +show yourselves to be happy. Your faces have +always done more harm to your faith than our +reasons! If that glad message of your Bible were +written in your faces, you would not need to demand +belief in the authority of that book in such +stiff-necked fashion. Your words, your actions +should continually make the Bible superfluous—in +fact, through you a new Bible should continually +come into being. As it is, your apologia for +Christianity is rooted in your unchristianity, and +with your defence you write your own condemnation. +If you, however, should wish to emerge from +your dissatisfaction with Christianity, you should +ponder over the experience of two thousand years, +which, clothed in the modest form of a question, +may be voiced as follows: <q>If Christ really intended +to redeem the world, may he not be said +to have failed?</q></q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>99.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Poet as Guide to the Future.</hi>—All +the surplus poetical force that still exists in modern +humanity, but is not used under our conditions of +life, should (without any deduction) be devoted to +<pb n='055'/><anchor id='Pg055'/> +a definite goal—not to depicting the present nor to +reviving and summarising the past, but to pointing +the way to the future. Nor should this be so +done as if the poet, like an imaginative political +economist, had to anticipate a more favourable +national and social state of things and picture their +realisation. Rather will he, just as the earlier +poets portrayed the images of the Gods, portray +the fair images of men. He will divine those cases +where, in the midst of our modern world and reality +(which will not be shirked or repudiated in the +usual poetic fashion), a great, noble soul is still +possible, where it may be embodied in harmonious, +equable conditions, where it may become permanent, +visible, and representative of a type, and so, by +the stimulus to imitation and envy, help to create +the future. The poems of such a poet would be +distinguished by appearing secluded and protected +from the heated atmosphere of the passions. The +irremediable failure, the shattering of all the strings +of the human instrument, the scornful laughter and +gnashing of teeth, and all tragedy and comedy in +the usual old sense, would appear by the side of +this new art as mere archaic lumber, a blurring of +the outlines of the world-picture. Strength, kindness, +gentleness, purity, and an unsought, innate +moderation in the personalities and their action: a +levelled soil, giving rest and pleasure to the foot: a +shining heaven mirrored in faces and events: science +and art welded into a new unity: the mind living +together with her sister, the soul, without arrogance +or jealousy, and enticing from contrasts the grace +of seriousness, not the impatience of discord—all +<pb n='056'/><anchor id='Pg056'/> +this would be the general environment, the background +on which the delicate differences of the embodied +ideals would make the real picture, that of +ever-growing human majesty. Many roads to this +poetry of the future start from Goethe, but the quest +needs good pathfinders and above all a far greater +strength than is possessed by modern poets, who +unscrupulously represent the half-animal and the +immaturity and intemperance that are mistaken +by them for power and naturalness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>100.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Muse as Penthesilea.</hi><note place='foot'>Queen of the Amazons, slain by Achilles in the Trojan +War.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note>—<q>Better to rot +than to be a woman without charm.</q> When once +the Muse thinks thus, the end of her art is again +at hand. But it can be a tragic and also a comic +finale. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>101.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Circuitous Path to the Beautiful.</hi>—If +the beautiful is to be identified with that which +gives pleasure—and thus sang the Muses once—the +useful is often the necessary circuitous path +to the beautiful, and has a perfect right to spurn +the short-sighted censure of men who live for the +moment, who will not wait, and who think that +they can reach all good things without ever taking +a circuitous path. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>102.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>An Excuse for many a Transgression.</hi>—The +ceaseless desire to create, the eternal looking outward +<pb n='057'/><anchor id='Pg057'/> +of the artist, hinders him from becoming better +and more beautiful as a personality: unless his craving +for glory be great enough to compel him to +exhibit in his relations with other men a growth +corresponding to the growing beauty and greatness +of his works. In any case he has but a limited +measure of strength, and how could the proportion +of strength that he spends on himself be of any +benefit to his work—or <hi rend='italic'>vice versa</hi>? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>103.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Satisfying the Best People.</hi>—If we have satisfied +the best people of our time with our art, it is +a sign that we shall not satisfy the best people of +the succeeding period. We have indeed <q>lived for +all time,</q> and the applause of the best people ensures +our fame.<note place='foot'>From Schiller, <hi rend='italic'>Wallenstein's Lager</hi>: <q>Wer den Besten +seiner Zeit genug gethan, der hat gelebt für alle Zeiten</q> +(<q>He that has satisfied the best men of his time has lived for +all time</q>).</note> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>104.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Of One Substance.</hi>—If we are of one substance +with a book or a work of art, we think in our heart +of hearts that it must be excellent, and are offended +if others find it ugly, over-spiced, or pretentious. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>105.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Speech and Emotion.</hi>—That speech is not given +to us to communicate our emotions may be seen +from the fact that all simple men are ashamed to +seek for words to express their deeper feelings. These +<pb n='058'/><anchor id='Pg058'/> +feelings are expressed only in actions, and even here +such men blush if others seem to divine their motives. +After all, among poets, to whom God generally +denies this shame, the more noble are more monosyllabic +in the language of emotion, and evince a +certain constraint: whereas the real poets of emotion +are for the most part shameless in practical life. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>106.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Mistake about a Privation.</hi>—He that has +not for a long time been completely weaned from an +art, and is still always at home in it, has no idea how +small a privation it is to live without that art. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>107.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Three-quarter Strength.</hi>—A work that is +meant to give an impression of health should be +produced with three-quarters, at the most, of the +strength of its creator. If he has gone to his farthest +limit, the work excites the observer and disconcerts +him by its tension. All good things have something +lazy about them and lie like cows in the +meadow. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>108.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Refusing to have Hunger as a Guest.</hi>—As +refined fare serves a hungry man as well as and no +better than coarser food, the more pretentious artist +will not dream of inviting the hungry man to his +meal. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>109.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Living without Art and Wine.</hi>—It is with +works of art as with wine—it is better if one can do +<pb n='059'/><anchor id='Pg059'/> +without both and keep to water, and if from the +inner fire and inner sweetness of the soul the water +spontaneously changes again into wine. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>110.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Pirate-Genius.</hi>—The pirate-genius in art, +who even knows how to deceive subtle minds, arises +when some one unscrupulously and from youth upwards +regards all good things, that are not protected +by law, as the property of a particular person, as his +legitimate spoil. Now all the good things of past +ages and masters lie free around us, hedged about +and protected by the reverential awe of the few who +know them. To these few our robber-genius, by +the force of his impudence, bids defiance and accumulates +for himself a wealth that once more calls +forth homage and awe. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>111.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To the Poets of Great Towns.</hi>—In the gardens +of modern poetry it will clearly be observed +that the sewers of great towns are too near. With +the fragrance of flowers is mingled something that +betrays abomination and putrescence. With pain I +ask: <q>Must you poets always request wit and dirt +to stand godfather, when an innocent and beautiful +sensation has to be christened by you? Are you +obliged to dress your noble goddess in a hood of +devilry and caricature? But whence this necessity, +this obligation?</q> The reason is—because you live +too near the sewers. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='060'/><anchor id='Pg060'/> + +<div> +<head>112.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Of the Salt of Speech.</hi>—No one has ever +explained why the Greek writers, having at command +such an unparalleled wealth and power of +language, made so sparing a use of their resources +that every post-classical Greek book appears by +comparison crude, over-coloured, and extravagant. +It is said that towards the North Polar ice and +in the hottest countries salt is becoming less and +less used, whereas on the other hand the dwellers +on the plains and by the coast in the more temperate +zones use salt in great abundance. Is it possible +that the Greeks from a twofold reason—because +their intellect was colder and clearer but their fundamental +passionate nature far more tropical than +ours—did not need salt and spice to the same extent +that we do? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>113.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Freest Writer.</hi>—In a book for free spirits +one cannot avoid mention of Laurence Sterne, the +man whom Goethe honoured as the freest spirit of +his century. May he be satisfied with the honour of +being called the freest writer of all times, in comparison +with whom all others appear stiff, square-toed, +intolerant, and downright boorish! In his case +we should not speak of the clear and rounded but +of <q>the endless melody</q>—if by this phrase we arrive +at a name for an artistic style in which the definite +form is continually broken, thrust aside and transferred +to the realm of the indefinite, so that it +signifies one and the other at the same time. Sterne +is the great master of <foreign rend='italic'>double entendre</foreign>, this phrase +<pb n='061'/><anchor id='Pg061'/> +being naturally used in a far wider sense than is +commonly done when one applies it to sexual +relations. We may give up for lost the reader +who always wants to know exactly what Sterne +thinks about a matter, and whether he be making +a serious or a smiling face (for he can do both +with one wrinkling of his features; he can be and +even wishes to be right and wrong at the same +moment, to interweave profundity and farce). His +digressions are at once continuations and further +developments of the story, his maxims contain a +satire on all that is sententious, his dislike of +seriousness is bound up with a disposition to take no +matter merely externally and on the surface. So in +the proper reader he arouses a feeling of uncertainty +whether he be walking, lying, or standing, a feeling +most closely akin to that of floating in the air. He, +the most versatile of writers, communicates something +of this versatility to his reader. Yes, Sterne +unexpectedly changes the parts, and is often as much +reader as author, his book being like a play within a +play, a theatre audience before another theatre audience. +We must surrender at discretion to the mood +of Sterne, although we can always expect it to be +gracious. It is strangely instructive to see how so +great a writer as Diderot has affected this <foreign rend='italic'>double +entendre</foreign> of Sterne's—to be equally ambiguous +throughout is just the Sternian super-humour. Did +Diderot imitate, admire, ridicule, or parody Sterne +in his <hi rend='italic'>Jacques le Fataliste</hi>? One cannot be exactly +certain, and this uncertainty was perhaps intended +by the author. This very doubt makes the French +unjust to the work of one of their first masters, one +<pb n='062'/><anchor id='Pg062'/> +who need not be ashamed of comparison with any +of the ancients or moderns. For humour (and +especially for this humorous attitude towards +humour itself) the French are too serious. Is it +necessary to add that of all great authors Sterne is +the worst model, in fact the inimitable author, and +that even Diderot had to pay for his daring? What +the worthy Frenchmen and before them some +Greeks and Romans aimed at and attained in prose +is the very opposite of what Sterne aims at and +attains. He raises himself as a masterly exception +above all that artists in writing demand of themselves—propriety, +reserve, character, steadfastness +of purpose, comprehensiveness, perspicuity, good +deportment in gait and feature. Unfortunately +Sterne the man seems to have been only too closely +related to Sterne the writer. His squirrel-soul +sprang with insatiable unrest from branch to +branch; he knew what lies between sublimity and +rascality; he had sat on every seat, always with unabashed +watery eyes and mobile play of feature. +He was—if language does not revolt from such a +combination—of a hard-hearted kindness, and in +the midst of the joys of a grotesque and even corrupt +imagination he showed the bashful grace of +innocence. Such a carnal and spiritual hermaphroditism, +such untrammelled wit penetrating into +every vein and muscle, was perhaps never possessed +by any other man. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>114.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Choice Reality.</hi>—Just as the good prose +writer only takes words that belong to the language +of daily intercourse, though not by a long way all +<pb n='063'/><anchor id='Pg063'/> +its words—whence arises a choice style—so the +good poet of the future will only represent the real +and turn his eyes away from all fantastic, superstitious, +half-voiced, forgotten stories, to which earlier +poets devoted their powers. Only reality, though +by a long way not every reality—but a choice +reality. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>115.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Degenerate Species of Art.</hi>—Side by side +with the genuine species of art, those of great repose +and great movement, there are degenerate species—weary, +blasé art and excited art. Both would +have their weakness taken for strength and wish to +be confounded with the genuine species. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>116.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Hero Impossible from Lack of Colour.</hi>—The +typical poets and artists of our age like to +compose their pictures upon a background of shimmering +red, green, grey, and gold, on the background +of nervous sensuality—a condition well +understood by the children of this century. The +drawback comes when we do <emph>not</emph> look at these pictures +with the eyes of our century. Then we see that +the great figures painted by these artists have something +flickering, tremulous, and dizzy about them, +and accordingly we do not ascribe to them heroic +deeds, but at best mock-heroic, swaggering <emph>mis</emph>deeds. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>117.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Overladen Style.</hi>—The overladen style is a +consequence of the impoverishment of the organising +<pb n='064'/><anchor id='Pg064'/> +force together with a lavish stock of expedients +and intentions. At the beginnings of art the very +reverse conditions sometimes appear. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>118.</head> + +<p> +<foreign lang='la' rend='italic'><hi rend='smallcaps'>Pulchrum est paucorum hominum.</hi></foreign>—History +and experience tell us that the significant grotesqueness +that mysteriously excites the imagination and +carries one beyond everyday reality, is older and +grows more luxuriantly than the beautiful and reverence +for the beautiful in art: and that it begins +to flourish exceedingly when the sense for beauty +is on the wane. For the vast majority of mankind +this grotesque seems to be a higher need than the +beautiful, presumably because it contains a coarser +narcotic. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>119.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Origins of Taste in Works of Art.</hi>—If we +consider the primary germs of the artistic sense, and +ask ourselves what are the various kinds of joy +produced by the firstlings of art—as, for example, +among savage tribes—we find first of all the joy +of understanding what another means. Art in this +case is a sort of conundrum, which causes its solver +pleasure in his own quick and keen perceptions.—Then +the roughest works of art remind us of the +pleasant things we have actually experienced, and +so give joy—as, for example, when the artist alludes +to a chase, a victory, a wedding.—Again, the representation +may cause us to feel excited, touched, inflamed, +as for instance in the glorification of revenge +<pb n='065'/><anchor id='Pg065'/> +and danger. Here the enjoyment lies in the excitement +itself, in the victory over tedium.—The +memory, too, of unpleasant things, so far as they +have been overcome or make us appear interesting +to the listener as subjects for art (as when the +singer describes the mishaps of a daring seaman), +can inspire great joy, the credit for which is given +to art.—A more subtle variety is the joy that +arises at the sight of all that is regular and symmetrical +in lines, points, and rhythms. For by a +certain analogy is awakened the feeling for all that +is orderly and regular in life, which one has to thank +alone for all well-being. So in the cult of symmetry +we unconsciously do homage to rule and proportion +as the source of our previous happiness, and the joy +in this case is a kind of hymn of thanksgiving. +Only when a certain satiety of the last-mentioned +joy arises does a more subtle feeling step in, that +enjoyment might even lie in a violation of the +symmetrical and regular. This feeling, for example, +impels us to seek reason in apparent unreason, and +the sort of æsthetic riddle-guessing that results is in +a way the higher species of the first-named artistic +joy.—He who pursues this speculation still further +will know what kind of hypotheses for the explanation +of æsthetic phenomena are hereby fundamentally +rejected. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>120.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Not too Near.</hi>—It is a disadvantage for good +thoughts when they follow too closely on one +another, for they hide the view from each other. +<pb n='066'/><anchor id='Pg066'/> +That is why great artists and writers have made an +abundant use of the mediocre. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>121.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Roughness and Weakness.</hi>—Artists of all +periods have made the discovery that in roughness +lies a certain strength, and that not every one can be +rough who wants to be: also that many varieties of +weakness have a powerful effect on the emotions. +From this source are derived many artistic substitutes, +which not even the greatest and most conscientious +artists can abstain from using. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>122.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Good Memory.</hi>—Many a man fails to become +a thinker for the sole reason that his memory is too +good. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>123.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Arousing instead of Appeasing Hunger.</hi>—Great +artists fancy that they have taken full possession +of a soul. In reality, and often to their +painful disappointment, that soul has only been +made more capacious and insatiable, so that a dozen +greater artists could plunge into its depths without +filling it up. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>124.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Artists' Anxiety.</hi>—The anxiety lest people +may not believe that their figures are <emph>alive</emph> can mislead +many artists of declining taste to portray these +figures so that they appear as if mad. From the +<pb n='067'/><anchor id='Pg067'/> +same anxiety, on the other hand, Greek artists of +the earliest ages gave even dead and sorely wounded +men that smile which they knew as the most vivid +sign of life—careless of the actual forms bestowed +by nature on life at its last gasp. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>125.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Circle must be Completed.</hi>—He who +follows a philosophy or a genre of art to the end of +its career and beyond, understands from inner experience +why the masters and disciples who come +after have so often turned, with a depreciatory gesture, +into a new groove. The circle must be described—but +the individual, even the greatest, sits +firm on his point of the circumference, with an inexorable +look of obstinacy, as if the circle ought +never to be completed. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>126.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Older Art and the Soul of the +Present.</hi>—Since every art becomes more and more +adapted to the expression of spiritual states, of the +more lively, delicate, energetic, and passionate states, +the later masters, spoilt by these means of expression, +do not feel at their ease in the presence of the +old-time works of art. They feel as if the ancients +had merely been lacking in the means of making +their souls speak clearly, also perhaps in some necessary +technical preliminaries. They think that they +must render some assistance in this quarter, for +they believe in the similarity or even unity of all +souls. In truth, however, measure, symmetry, a +<pb n='068'/><anchor id='Pg068'/> +contempt for graciousness and charm, an unconscious +severity and morning chilliness, an evasion +of passion, as if passion meant the death of art—such +are the constituents of sentiment and morality +in all old masters, who selected and arranged their +means of expression not at random but in a necessary +connection with their morality. Knowing this, +are we to deny those that come after the right to +animate the older works with their soul? No, for +these works can only survive through our giving +them our soul, and our blood alone enables them +to speak to <emph>us</emph>. The real <q>historic</q> discourse would +talk ghostly speech to ghosts. We honour the great +artists less by that barren timidity that allows every +word, every note to remain intact than by energetic +endeavours to aid them continually to a new life.—True, +if Beethoven were suddenly to come to life +and hear one of his works performed with that +modern animation and nervous refinement that bring +glory to our masters of execution, he would probably +be silent for a long while, uncertain whether he should +raise his hand to curse or to bless, but perhaps say +at last: <q>Well, well! That is neither I nor not-I, but +a third thing—it seems to me, too, something right, +if not just <emph>the</emph> right thing. But you must know yourselves +what to do, as in any case it is you who have +to listen. As our Schiller says, <q>the living man is +right.</q> So have it your own way, and let me go +down again.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>127.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Against the Disparagers of Brevity.</hi>—A +brief dictum may be the fruit and harvest of long +<pb n='069'/><anchor id='Pg069'/> +reflection. The reader, however, who is a novice +in this field and has never considered the case in +point, sees something embryonic in all brief dicta, +not without a reproachful hint to the author, requesting +him not to serve up such raw and ill-prepared +food. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>128.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Against the Short-Sighted.</hi>—Do you think +it is piece-work because it is (and must be) offered +you in pieces? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>129.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Readers of Aphorisms.</hi>—The worst readers of +aphorisms are the friends of the author, if they make +a point of referring the general to the particular +instance to which the aphorism owes its origin. +This namby-pamby attitude brings all the author's +trouble to naught, and instead of a philosophic lesson +and a philosophic frame of mind, they deservedly +gain nothing but the satisfaction of a vulgar curiosity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>130.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Readers' Insults.</hi>—The reader offers a two-fold +insult to the author by praising his second book +at the expense of his first (or <hi rend='italic'>vice versa</hi>) and by expecting +the author to be grateful to him on that +account. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>131.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Exciting Element in the History of +Art.</hi>—We fall into a state of terrible tension when +we follow the history of an art—as, for example, that +<pb n='070'/><anchor id='Pg070'/> +of Greek oratory—and, passing from master to master, +observe their increasing precautions to obey the old +and the new laws and all these self-imposed limitations. +We see that the bow <emph>must</emph> snap, and that the +so-called <q>loose</q> composition, with the wonderful +means of expression smothered and concealed (in +this particular case the florid style of Asianism), was +once necessary and almost <emph>beneficial</emph>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>132.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To the Great in Art.</hi>—That enthusiasm for +some object which you, O great man, introduce into +this world causes the intelligence of the many to be +stunted. The knowledge of this fact spells humiliation. +But the enthusiast wears his hump with pride +and pleasure, and you have the consolation of feeling +that you have increased the world's happiness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>133.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Conscienceless Æsthetes.</hi>—The real fanatics +of an artistic school are perhaps those utterly inartistic +natures that are not even grounded in the +elements of artistic study and creation, but are impressed +with the strongest of all the elementary +influences of an art. For them there is no æsthetic +conscience—hence nothing to hold them back from +fanaticism. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>134.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How the Soul should be Moved by the +New Music.</hi>—The artistic purpose followed by the +new music, in what is now forcibly but none too +<pb n='071'/><anchor id='Pg071'/> +lucidly termed <q>endless melody,</q> can be understood +by going into the sea, gradually losing one's firm +tread on the bottom, and finally surrendering unconditionally +to the fluid element. One has to <emph>swim</emph>. +In the previous, older music one was forced, with +delicate or stately or impassioned movement, to +<emph>dance</emph>. The measure necessary for dancing, the observance +of a distinct balance of time and force +in the soul of the hearer, imposed a continual self-control. +Through the counteraction of the cooler +draught of air which came from this caution and the +warmer breath of musical enthusiasm, that music +exercised its spell.—Richard Wagner aimed at a +different excitation of the soul, allied, as above said, +to swimming and floating. This is perhaps the most +essential of his innovations. His famous method, +originating from this aim and adapted to it—the +<q>endless melody</q>—strives to break and sometimes +even to despise all mathematical equilibrium of time +and force. He is only too rich in the invention of +such effects, which sound to the old school like +rhythmic paradoxes and blasphemies. He dreads +petrifaction, crystallisation, the development of +music into the architectural. He accordingly sets +up a three-time rhythm in opposition to the double-time, +not infrequently introduces five-time and seven-time, +immediately repeats a phrase, but with a prolation, +so that its time is again doubled and trebled. +From an easy-going imitation of such art may arise +a great danger to music, for by the side of the superabundance +of rhythmic emotion demoralisation and +decadence lurk in ambush. The danger will become +very great if such music comes to associate itself +<pb n='072'/><anchor id='Pg072'/> +more and more closely with a quite naturalistic +art of acting and pantomime, trained and dominated +by no higher plastic models; an art that knows no +measure in itself and can impart no measure to the +kindred element, the all-too-womanish nature of +music. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>135.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Poet and Reality.</hi>—The Muse of the poet who +is not in love with reality will not be reality, and +will bear him children with hollow eyes and all too +tender bones. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>136.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Means and End.</hi>—In art the end does not justify +the means, but holy means can justify the end. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>137.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Worst Readers.</hi>—The worst readers are +those who act like plundering soldiers. They take +out some things that they might use, cover the rest +with filth and confusion, and blaspheme about the +whole. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>138.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Signs of a Good Writer.</hi>—Good writers have +two things in common: they prefer being understood +to being admired, and they do not write for the +critical and over-shrewd reader. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>139.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Mixed Species.</hi>—The mixed species in art +bear witness to their authors' distrust of their own +<pb n='073'/><anchor id='Pg073'/> +strength. They seek auxiliary powers, advocates, +hiding-places—such is the case with the poet who +calls in philosophy, the musician who calls in the +drama, and the thinker who calls in rhetoric to his aid. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>140.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Shutting One's Mouth.</hi>—When his book +opens its mouth, the author must shut his. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>141.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Badges of Rank.</hi>—All poets and men of letters +who are in love with the superlative want to do more +than they can. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>142.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Cold Books.</hi>—The deep thinker reckons on +readers who feel with him the happiness that lies +in deep thinking. Hence a book that looks cold +and sober, if seen in the right light, may seem bathed +in the sunshine of spiritual cheerfulness and become +a genuine soul-comforter. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>143.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Knack of the Slow-Witted.</hi>—The slow-witted +thinker generally allies himself with loquacity +and ceremoniousness. By the former he thinks +he is gaining mobility and fluency, by the latter he +gives his peculiarity the appearance of being a result +of free will and artistic purpose, with a view to +dignity, which needs slow movement. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='074'/><anchor id='Pg074'/> + +<div> +<head>144.</head> + +<p> +<foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'><hi rend='smallcaps'>Le Style Baroque.</hi></foreign><note place='foot'>In German <foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Barockstil</foreign>, <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> the degenerate post-Renaissance +style in art and literature, which spread from Italy +in the seventeenth century.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note>—He who as thinker and +writer is not born or trained to dialectic and the consecutive +arrangement of ideas, will unconsciously turn +to the rhetoric and dramatic forms. For, after all, his +object is to make himself understood and to carry the +day by force, and he is indifferent whether, as shepherd, +he honestly guides to himself the hearts of his +fellow-men, or, as robber, he captures them by surprise. +This is true of the plastic arts as of music: +where the feeling of insufficient dialectic or a deficiency +in expression or narration, together with an +urgent, over-powerful impulse to form, gives birth +to that species of style known as <q>baroque.</q> Only +the ill-educated and the arrogant will at once find a +depreciatory force in this word. The baroque style +always arises at the time of decay of a great art, +when the demands of art in classical expression +have become too great. It is a natural phenomenon +which will be observed with melancholy—for it is a +forerunner of the night—but at the same time with +admiration for its peculiar compensatory arts of expression +and narration. To this style belongs already +a choice of material and subjects of the highest +dramatic tension, at which the heart trembles even +when there is no art, because heaven and hell are +all too near the emotions: then, the oratory of strong +passion and gestures, of ugly sublimity, of great +<pb n='075'/><anchor id='Pg075'/> +masses, in fact of absolute quantity <hi rend='italic'>per se</hi> (as is +shown in Michael Angelo, the father or grandfather +of the Italian baroque stylists): the lights of dusk, +illumination and conflagration playing upon those +strongly moulded forms: ever-new ventures in means +and aims, strongly underscored by artists for artists, +while the layman must fancy he sees an unconscious +overflowing of all the horns of plenty of an original +nature-art: all these characteristics that constitute +the greatness of that style are neither possible nor +permitted in the earlier ante-classical and classical +periods of a branch of art. Such luxuries hang long +on the tree like forbidden fruit. Just now, when +music is passing into this last phase, we may learn to +know the phenomenon of the baroque style in peculiar +splendour, and, by comparison, find much that is +instructive for earlier ages. For from Greek times +onward there has often been a baroque style, in +poetry, oratory, prose writing, sculpture, and, as is +well known, in architecture. This style, though +wanting in the highest nobility,—the nobility of an +innocent, unconscious, triumphant perfection,—has +nevertheless given pleasure to many of the best and +most serious minds of their time. Hence, as aforesaid, +it is presumptuous to depreciate it without reserve, +however happy we may feel because our taste +for it has not made us insensible to the purer and +greater style. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>145.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Value of Honest Books.</hi>—Honest books +make the reader honest, at least by exciting his +hatred and aversion, which otherwise cunning cleverness +<pb n='076'/><anchor id='Pg076'/> +knows so well how to conceal. Against a book, +however, we let ourselves go, however restrained we +may be in our relations with men. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>146.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How Art makes Partisans.</hi>—Individual fine +passages, an exciting general tenor, a moving and +absorbing finale—so much of a work of art is accessible +even to most laymen. In an art period +when it is desired to win over the great majority of +the laymen to the side of the artists and to make a +party perhaps for the very preservation of art, the +creative artist will do well to offer nothing more than +the above. Then he will not be a squanderer of his +strength, in spheres where no one is grateful to him. +For to perform the remaining functions, the imitation +of Nature in her organic development and +growth, would in that case be like sowing seeds in +water. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>147.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Becoming Great to the Detriment of +History.</hi>—Every later master who leads the taste +of art-lovers into his channel unconsciously gives rise +to a selection and revaluation of the older masters +and their works. Whatever in them is conformable +and akin to him, and anticipates and foreshadows +him, appears henceforth as the only important element +in them and their works—a fruit in which a +great error usually lies hidden like a worm. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>148.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How an Epoch becomes Lured to Art.</hi>—If +we teach people by all the enchantments of artists +<pb n='077'/><anchor id='Pg077'/> +and thinkers to feel reverence for their defects, their +intellectual poverty, their absurd infatuations and +passions (as it is quite possible to do); if we show +them only the lofty side of crime and folly, only +the touching and appealing element in weakness and +flabbiness and blind devotion (that too has often +enough been done):—we have employed the means +for inspiring even an unphilosophical and inartistic +age with an ecstatic love of philosophy and art +(especially of thinkers and artists as personalities) +and, in the worst case, perhaps with the only means +of defending the existence of such tender and fragile +beings. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>149.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Criticism and Joy.</hi>—Criticism, one-sided and +unjust as well as intelligent criticism, gives so much +pleasure to him who exercises it that the world is +indebted to every work and every action that inspires +much criticism and many critics. For criticism +draws after it a glittering train of joyousness, +wit, self-admiration, pride, instruction, designs of improvement.—The +God of joy created the bad and +the mediocre for the same reason that he created the +good. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>150.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Beyond his Limits.</hi>—When an artist wants to +be more than an artist—for example, the moral +awakener of his people—he at last falls in love, as a +punishment, with a monster of moral substance. +The Muse laughs, for, though a kind-hearted Goddess, +she can also be malignant from jealousy. +Milton and Klopstock are cases in point. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='078'/><anchor id='Pg078'/> + +<div> +<head>151.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Glass Eye.</hi>—The tendency of a talent towards +moral subjects, characters, motives, towards the +<q>beautiful soul</q> of the work of art, is often only a +glass eye put on by the artist who lacks a beautiful +soul. It may result, though rarely, that his eye +finally becomes living Nature, if indeed it be Nature +with a somewhat troubled look. But the ordinary +result is that the whole world thinks it sees Nature +where there is only cold glass. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>152.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Writing and Desire for Victory.</hi>—Writing +should always indicate a victory, indeed a conquest +of oneself which must be communicated to others +for their behoof. There are, however, dyspeptic +authors who only write when they cannot digest +something, or when something has remained stuck +in their teeth. Through their anger they try unconsciously +to disgust the reader too, and to exercise +violence upon him—that is, they desire victory, but +victory over others. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>153.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Good Book Needs Time.</hi>—Every good book +tastes bitter when it first comes out, for it has the +defect of newness. Moreover, it suffers damage +from its living author, if he is well known and much +talked about. For all the world is accustomed to +confuse the author with his work. Whatever of +profundity, sweetness, and brilliance the work may +contain must be developed as the years go by, +<pb n='079'/><anchor id='Pg079'/> +under the care of growing, then old, and lastly +traditional reverence. Many hours must pass, many +a spider must have woven its web about the book. +A book is made better by good readers and clearer +by good opponents. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>154.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Extravagance as an Artistic Means.</hi>—Artists +well understand the idea of using extravagance +as an artistic means in order to convey an +impression of wealth. This is one of those innocent +wiles of soul-seduction that the artist must know, +for in his world, which has only appearance in view, +the means to appearance need not necessarily be +genuine. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>155.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Hidden Barrel-Organ.</hi>—Genius, by +virtue of its more ample drapery, knows better than +talent how to hide its barrel-organ. Yet after all +it too can only play its seven old pieces over and +over again. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>156.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Name on the Title-Page.</hi>—It is now a +matter of custom and almost of duty for the +author's name to appear on the book, and this is a +main cause of the fact that books have so little +influence. If they are good, they are worth more +than the personalities of their authors, of which +they are the quintessences. But as soon as the +author makes himself known on the title-page, the +quintessence, from the reader's point of view, becomes +<pb n='080'/><anchor id='Pg080'/> +diluted with the personal, the most personal +element, and the aim of the book is frustrated. It +is the ambition of the intellect no longer to appear +individual. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>157.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Most Cutting Criticism.</hi>—We make the +most cutting criticism of a man or a book when we +indicate his or its ideal. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>158.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Little or no Love.</hi>—Every good book is written +for a particular reader and men of his stamp, and +for that very reason is looked upon unfavourably +by all other readers, by the vast majority. Its reputation +accordingly rests on a narrow basis and +must be built up by degrees.—The mediocre and +bad book is mediocre and bad because it seeks to +please, and does please, a great number. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>159.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Music and Disease.</hi>—The danger of the new +music lies in the fact that it puts the cup of rapture +and exaltation to the lips so invitingly, and with +such a show of moral ecstasy, that even the noble +and temperate man always drinks a drop too much. +This minimum of intemperance, constantly repeated, +can in the end bring about a deeper convulsion and +destruction of mental health than any coarse excess +could do. Hence nothing remains but some day +to fly from the grotto of the nymph, and through +perils and billowy seas to forge one's way to the +<pb n='081'/><anchor id='Pg081'/> +smoke of Ithaca and the embraces of a simpler and +more human spouse. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>160.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Advantage for Opponents.</hi>—A book full of +intellect communicates something thereof even to +its opponents. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>161.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Youth and Criticism.</hi>—To criticise a book +means, for the young, not to let oneself be touched +by a single productive thought therefrom, and to +protect one's skin with hands and feet. The +youngster lives in opposition to all novelty that +he cannot love in the lump, in a position of self-defence, +and in this connection he commits, as often +as he can, a superfluous sin. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>162.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Effect of Quantity.</hi>—The greatest paradox +in the history of poetic art lies in this: that in all +that constitutes the greatness of the old poets a +man may be a barbarian, faulty and deformed from +top to toe, and still remain the greatest of poets. +This is the case with Shakespeare, who, as compared +with Sophocles, is like a mine of immeasurable +wealth in gold, lead, and rubble, whereas +Sophocles is not merely gold, but gold in its noblest +form, one that almost makes us forget the money-value +of the metal. But quantity in its highest intensity +has the same effect as quality. That is a +good thing for Shakespeare. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='082'/><anchor id='Pg082'/> + +<div> +<head>163.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>All Beginning is Dangerous.</hi>—The Poet can +choose whether to raise emotion from one grade to +another, and so finally to exalt it to a great height—or +to try a surprise attack, and from the start +to pull the bell-rope with might and main. Both +processes have their danger—in the first case his +hearer may run away from him through boredom, +in the second through terror. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>164.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>In Favour of Critics.</hi>—Insects sting, not from +malice, but because they too want to live. It is the +same with our critics—they desire our blood, not our +pain. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>165.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Success of Aphorisms.</hi>—The inexperienced, +when an aphorism at once illuminates their minds +with its naked truth, always think that it is old and +well known. They look askance at the author, as if +he had wanted to steal the common property of all, +whereas they enjoy highly spiced half-truths, and +give the author to understand as much. He knows +how to appreciate the hint, and easily guesses thereby +where he has succeeded and failed. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>166.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Desire for Victory.</hi>—An artist who +exceeds the limit of his strength in all that he +undertakes will end by carrying the multitude +along with him through the spectacle of violent +<pb n='083'/><anchor id='Pg083'/> +wrestling that he affords. Success is not always +the accompaniment only of victory, but also of the +desire for victory. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>167.</head> + +<p> +<foreign lang='la' rend='italic'><hi rend='smallcaps'>Sibi Scribere.</hi></foreign>—The sensible author writes for +no other posterity than his own—that is, for his +age—so as to be able even then to take pleasure +in himself. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>168.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Praise of the Aphorism.</hi>—A good aphorism +is too hard for the tooth of time, and is not worn +away by all the centuries, although it serves as food +for every epoch. Hence it is the greatest paradox +in literature, the imperishable in the midst of +change, the nourishment which always remains +highly valued, as salt does, and never becomes +stupid like salt. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>169.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Art-Need of the Second Order.</hi>—The +people may have something of what can be called +art-need, but it is small, and can be cheaply satisfied. +On the whole, the remnant of art (it must +be honestly confessed) suffices for this need. Let +us consider, for example, the kind of melodies and +songs in which the most vigorous, unspoiled, and +true-hearted classes of the population find genuine +delight; let us live among shepherds, cowherds, +peasants, huntsmen, soldiers, and sailors, and give +ourselves the answer. And in the country town, just +in the houses that are the homes of inherited civic +virtue, is it not the worst music at present produced +<pb n='084'/><anchor id='Pg084'/> +that is loved and, one might say, cherished? He who +speaks of deeper needs and unsatisfied yearnings +for art among the people, as it is, is a crank or an impostor. +Be honest! Only in exceptional men is there +now an art-need in the highest sense—because art +is once more on the down-grade, and human powers +and hopes are for the time being directed to other +matters.—Apart from this, outside the populace, +there exists indeed, in the higher and highest strata +of society, a broader and more comprehensive art-need, +but <emph>of the second order</emph>. Here there is a sort +of artistic commune, which possibly means to be +sincere. But let us look at the elements! They +are in general the more refined malcontents, who +attain no genuine pleasure in themselves; the cultured, +who have not become free enough to dispense +with the consolations of religion, and yet do not +find its incense sufficiently fragrant; the half-aristocratic, +who are too weak to combat by a heroic +conversion or renunciation the one fundamental +error of their lives or the pernicious bent of their +characters; the highly gifted, who think themselves +too dignified to be of service by modest activity, +and are too lazy for real, self-sacrificing work; girls +who cannot create for themselves a satisfactory +sphere of duties; women who have tied themselves +by a light-hearted or nefarious marriage, and know +that they are not tied securely enough; scholars, +physicians, merchants, officials who specialised too +early and never gave their lives a free enough scope—who +do their work efficiently, it is true, but with a +worm gnawing at their hearts; finally, all imperfect +artists—these are nowadays the true needers of art! +<pb n='085'/><anchor id='Pg085'/> +What do they really desire from art? Art is to drive +away hours and moments of discomfort, boredom, +half-bad conscience, and, if possible, transform the +faults of their lives and characters into faults of +world-destiny. Very different were the Greeks, who +realised in their art the outflow and overflow of their +own sense of well-being and health, and loved to +see their perfection once more from a standpoint +outside themselves. They were led to art by delight +in themselves; our contemporaries—by disgust of +themselves. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>170.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Germans in the Theatre.</hi>—The real +theatrical talent of the Germans was Kotzebue. He +and his Germans, those of higher as well as those +of middle-class society, were necessarily associated, +and his contemporaries should have said of him in all +seriousness, <q>in him we live and move and have our +being.</q> Here was nothing—no constraint, pretence, +or half-enjoyment: what he could and would do was +understood. Yes, until now the honest theatrical +success on the German stage has been in the hands +of the shamefaced or unashamed heirs of Kotzebue's +methods and influence—that is, as far as comedy +still flourishes at all. The result is that much of the +Germanism of that age, sometimes far off from the +great towns, still survives. Good-natured; incontinent +in small pleasures; always ready for tears; +with the desire, in the theatre at any rate, to be +able to get rid of their innate sobriety and strict +attention to duty and exercise; a smiling, nay, a +laughing indulgence; confusing goodness and sympathy +<pb n='086'/><anchor id='Pg086'/> +and welding them into one, as is the essential +characteristic of German sentimentality; exceedingly +happy at a noble, magnanimous action; for +the rest, submissive towards superiors, envious of +each other, and yet in their heart of hearts thoroughly +self-satisfied—such were they and such was +he.—The second dramatic talent was Schiller. He +discovered a class of hearers which had hitherto +never been taken into consideration: among the +callow German youth of both sexes. His poetry +responded to their higher, nobler, more violent if +more confused emotions, their delight in the jingle +of moral words (a delight that begins to disappear +when we reach the thirties). Thus he won for himself, +by virtue of the passionateness and partisanship +of the young, a success which gradually reacted with +advantage upon those of riper years. Generally +speaking, Schiller rejuvenated the Germans. Goethe +stood and still stands above the Germans in every +respect. To them he will never belong. How could +a nation in well-being and well-wishing come up to +the intellectuality of Goethe? Beethoven composed +and Schopenhauer philosophised above the heads +of the Germans, and it was above their heads, in +the same way, that Goethe wrote his <hi rend='italic'>Tasso</hi>, his +<hi rend='italic'>Iphigenie</hi>. He was followed by a small company +of highly cultured persons, who were educated by +antiquity, life, and travel, and had grown out of +German ways of thought. He himself did not +wish it to be otherwise.—When the Romantics set +up their well-conceived Goethe cult; when their +amazing skill in appreciation was passed on to the +disciples of Hegel, the real educators of the Germans +<pb n='087'/><anchor id='Pg087'/> +of this century; when the awakening national ambition +turned out advantageous to the fame of the +German poets; when the real standard of the nation, +as to whether it could honestly find enjoyment in +anything, became inexorably subordinated to the +judgment of individuals and to that national ambition,—that +is, when people began to enjoy by +compulsion,—then arose that false, spurious German +culture which was ashamed of Kotzebue; which +brought Sophocles, Calderon, and even the Second +Part of Goethe's <hi rend='italic'>Faust</hi> on the stage; and which, +on account of its foul tongue and congested stomach, +no longer knows now what it likes and what it finds +tedious.—Happy are those who have taste, even if +it be a bad taste! Only by this characteristic can +one be wise as well as happy. Hence the Greeks, +who were very refined in such matters, designated +the sage by a word that means <q>man of taste,</q> and +called wisdom, artistic as well as scientific, <q>taste</q> +(<foreign rend='italic'>sophia</foreign>). +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>171.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Music as a Late-Comer in every Culture.</hi>—Among +all the arts that are accustomed to grow +on a definite culture-soil and under definite social +and political conditions, music is the last plant to +come up, arising in the autumn and fading-season +of the culture to which it belongs. At the same +time, the first signs and harbingers of a new spring +are usually already noticeable, and sometimes music, +like the language of a forgotten age, rings out into +a new, astonished world, and comes too late. In the +art of the Dutch and Flemish musicians the soul +<pb n='088'/><anchor id='Pg088'/> +of the Christian middle ages at last found its fullest +tone: their sound-architecture is the posthumous +but legitimate and equal sister of Gothic. Not until +Handel's music was heard the note of the best in +the soul of Luther and his kin, the great Judæo-heroical +impulse that created the whole Reformation +movement. Mozart first expressed in golden +melody the age of Louis <hi rend='smallcaps'>xiv.</hi> and the art of Racine +and Claude Lorrain. The eighteenth century—that +century of rhapsody, of broken ideals and transitory +happiness—only sang itself out in the music of Beethoven +and Rossini. A lover of sentimental similes +might say that all really important music was a +swan-song.—Music is, in fact, not a universal language +for all time, as is so often said in its praise, but responds +exactly to a particular period and warmth +of emotion which involves a quite definite, individual +culture, determined by time and place, as its inner +law. The music of Palestrina would be quite unintelligible +to a Greek; and again, what would the +music of Rossini convey to Palestrina?—It may be +that our most modern German music, with all its pre-eminence +and desire of pre-eminence, will soon be +no longer understood. For this music sprang from +a culture that is undergoing a rapid decay, from the +soil of that epoch of reaction and restoration in +which a certain Catholicism of feeling, as well as a +delight in all indigenous, national, primitive manners, +burst into bloom and scattered a blended perfume +over Europe. These two emotional tendencies, +adopted in their greatest strength and carried to +their farthest limits, found final expression in the +music of Wagner. Wagner's predilection for the old +<pb n='089'/><anchor id='Pg089'/> +native sagas, his free idealisation of their unfamiliar +gods and heroes,—who are really sovereign beasts +of prey with occasional fits of thoughtfulness, magnanimity, +and boredom,—his re-animation of those +figures, to which he gave in addition the mediæval +Christian thirst for ecstatic sensuality and spiritualisation—all +this Wagnerian give-and-take with regard +to materials, souls, figures, and words—would +clearly express the spirit of his music, if it could not, +like all music, speak quite unambiguously of itself. +This spirit wages the last campaign of reaction +against the spirit of illumination which passed into +this century from the last, and also against the super-national +ideas of French revolutionary romanticism +and of English and American insipidity in the +reconstruction of state and society.—But is it not +evident that the spheres of thought and emotion +apparently suppressed by Wagner and his school +have long since acquired fresh strength, and that +his late musical protest against them generally rings +into ears that prefer to hear different and opposite +notes; so that one day that high and wonderful +art will suddenly become unintelligible and will be +covered by the spider's web of oblivion?—In considering +this state of affairs we must not let ourselves +be led astray by those transitory fluctuations +which arise like a reaction within a reaction, as a +temporary sinking of the mountainous wave in the +midst of the general upheaval. Thus, this decade of +national war, ultramontane martyrdom, and socialistic +unrest may, in its remoter after-effect, even aid +the Wagnerian art to acquire a sudden halo, without +guaranteeing that it <q>has a future</q> or that it +<pb n='090'/><anchor id='Pg090'/> +has <emph>the</emph> future. It is in the very nature of music +that the fruits of its great culture-vintage should +lose their taste and wither earlier than the fruits of +the plastic arts or those that grow on the tree of +knowledge. Among all the products of the human +artistic sense ideas are the most solid and lasting. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>172.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Poet no longer a Teacher.</hi>—Strange +as it may sound to our time, there were once poets +and artists whose soul was above the passions with +their delights and convulsions, and who therefore +took their pleasure in purer materials, worthier men, +more delicate complications and dénouements. If +the artists of our day for the most part unfetter the +will, and so are under certain circumstances for that +very reason emancipators of life, those were tamers of +the will, enchanters of animals, creators of men. In +fact, they moulded, re-moulded, and new-moulded +life, whereas the fame of poets of our day lies in +unharnessing, unchaining, and shattering.—The ancient +Greeks demanded of the poet that he should +be the teacher of grown men. How ashamed the +poet would be now if this demand were made of +him! He is not even a good student of himself, +and so never himself becomes a good poem or a fine +picture. Under the most favourable circumstances +he remains the shy, attractive ruin of a temple, but +at the same time a cavern of cravings, overgrown +like a ruin with flowers, nettles, and poisonous weeds, +inhabited and haunted by snakes, worms, spiders, +and birds; an object for sad reflection as to why the +noblest and most precious must grow up at once +<pb n='091'/><anchor id='Pg091'/> +like a ruin, without the past and future of perfection. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>173.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Looking Forward and Backward.</hi>—An art +like that which streams out of Homer, Sophocles, +Theocritus, Calderon, Racine, Goethe, as the superabundance +of a wise and harmonious conduct of life—that +is the true art, at which we grasp when we +have ourselves become wiser and more harmonious. +It is not that barbaric, if ever so delightful, outpouring +of hot and highly coloured things from an undisciplined, +chaotic soul, which is what we understood +by <q>art</q> in our youth. It is obvious from +the nature of the case that for certain periods of +life an art of overstrain, excitement, antipathy to +the orderly, monotonous, simple, logical, is an inevitable +need, to which artists must respond, lest +the soul of such periods should unburden itself in +other ways, through all kinds of disorder and impropriety. +Hence youths as they generally are, full, +fermenting, tortured above all things by boredom, +and women who lack work that fully occupies their +soul, require that art of delightful disorder. All +the more violently on that account are they inflamed +with a desire for satisfaction without change, +happiness without stupor and intoxication. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>174.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Against the Art of Works of Art.</hi>—Art is +above all and first of all meant to embellish life, to +make us ourselves endurable and if possible agreeable +in the eyes of others. With this task in view, +<pb n='092'/><anchor id='Pg092'/> +art moderates us and holds us in restraint, creates +forms of intercourse, binds over the uneducated to +laws of decency, cleanliness, politeness, well-timed +speech and silence. Hence art must conceal or +transfigure everything that is ugly—the painful, +terrible, and disgusting elements which in spite of +every effort will always break out afresh in accordance +with the very origin of human nature. Art +has to perform this duty especially in regard to the +passions and spiritual agonies and anxieties, and to +cause the significant factor to shine through unavoidable +or unconquerable ugliness. To this great, super-great +task the so-called art proper, that of works of +art, is a mere accessary. A man who feels within +himself a surplus of such powers of embellishment, +concealment, and transfiguration will finally seek +to unburden himself of this surplus in works of art. +The same holds good, under special circumstances, +of a whole nation.—But as a rule we nowadays begin +art at the end, hang on to its tail, and think that +works of art constitute art proper, and that life +should be improved and transformed by this means—fools +that we are! If we begin a dinner with +dessert, and try sweet after sweet, small wonder that +we ruin our digestions and even our appetites for +the good, hearty, nourishing meal to which art invites +us! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>175.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Continued Existence of Art.</hi>—Why, really, +does a creative art nowadays continue to exist? Because +the majority who have hours of leisure (and +such an art is for them only) think that they cannot +<pb n='093'/><anchor id='Pg093'/> +fill up their time without music, theatres and picture-galleries, +novels and poetry. Granted that one +could keep them from this indulgence, either they +would strive less eagerly for leisure, and the invidious +sight of the rich would be less common (a +great gain for the stability of society), or they would +have leisure, but would learn to reflect on what can +be learnt and unlearnt: on their work, for instance, +their associations, the pleasure they could bestow. +All the world, with the exception of the artist, would +in both cases reap the advantage.—Certainly, there +are many vigorous, sensible readers who could take +objection to this. Still, it must be said on behalf of +the coarse and malignant that the author himself is +concerned with this protest, and that there is in his +book much to be read that is not actually written +down therein. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>176.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Mouthpiece of the Gods.</hi>—The poet +expresses the universal higher opinions of the +nation, he is its mouthpiece and flute; but by +virtue of metre and all other artistic means he so +expresses them that the nation regards them as +something quite new and wonderful, and believes +in all seriousness that he is the mouthpiece of the +Gods. Yes, under the clouds of creation the poet +himself forgets whence he derives all his intellectual +wisdom—from father and mother, from teachers and +books of all kinds, from the street and particularly +from the priest. He is deceived by his own art, +and really believes, in a naïve period, that a God +is speaking through him, that he is creating in a +<pb n='094'/><anchor id='Pg094'/> +state of religious inspiration. As a matter of fact, +he is only saying what he has learnt, a medley of +popular wisdom and popular foolishness. Hence, +so far as a poet is really <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>vox populi</foreign> he is held to be +<foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>vox dei</foreign>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>177.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>What all Art wants to Do and Cannot.</hi>—The +last and hardest task of the artist is the presentment +of what remains the same, reposes in +itself, is lofty and simple and free from the bizarre. +Hence the noblest forms of moral perfection are +rejected as inartistic by weaker artists, because the +sight of these fruits is too painful for their ambition. +The fruit gleams at them from the topmost branches +of art, but they lack the ladder, the courage, the +grip to venture so high. In himself a Phidias is +quite possible as a poet, but, if modern strength be +taken into consideration, almost solely in the sense +that to God nothing is impossible. The desire for +a poetical Claude Lorrain is already an immodesty +at present, however earnestly one man's heart may +yearn for such a consummation.—The presentment +of the highest man, the most simple and at the same +time the most complete, has hitherto been beyond +the scope of all artists. Perhaps, however, the +Greeks, in the ideal of Athene, saw farther than +any men did before or after their time. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>178.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Art and Restoration.</hi>—The retrograde movements +in history, the so-called periods of restoration, +which try to revive intellectual and social +<pb n='095'/><anchor id='Pg095'/> +conditions that existed before those immediately +preceding,—and seem really to succeed in giving +them a brief resurrection,—have the charm of +sentimental recollection, ardent longing for what is +almost lost, hasty embracing of a transitory happiness. +It is on account of this strange trend towards +seriousness that in such transient and almost dreamy +periods art and poetry find a natural soil, just as the +tenderest and rarest plants grow on mountain-slopes +of steep declivity.—Thus many a good artist is unwittingly +impelled to a <q>restoration</q> way of thinking +in politics and society, for which, on his own account, +he prepares a quiet little corner and garden. Here +he collects about himself the human remains of the +historical epoch that appeals to him, and plays his lyre +to many who are dead, half-dead, and weary to death, +perhaps with the above-mentioned result of a brief +resurrection. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>179.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Happiness of the Age.</hi>—In two respects our +age is to be accounted happy. With respect to the +<emph>past</emph>, we enjoy all cultures and their productions, and +nurture ourselves on the noblest blood of all periods. +We stand sufficiently near to the magic of the +forces from whose womb these periods are born to +be able in passing to submit to their spell with +pleasure and terror; whereas earlier cultures could +only enjoy themselves, and never looked beyond +themselves, but were rather overarched by a bell of +broader or narrower dome, through which indeed +light streamed down to them, but which their gaze +could not pierce. With respect to the <emph>future</emph>, +<pb n='096'/><anchor id='Pg096'/> +there opens out to us for the first time a mighty, +comprehensive vista of human and economic purposes +engirdling the whole inhabited globe. At +the same time, we feel conscious of a power ourselves +to take this new task in hand without presumption, +without requiring supernatural aids. Yes, +whatever the result of our enterprise, however much +we may have overestimated our strength, at any +rate we need render account to no one but ourselves, +and mankind can henceforth begin to do +with itself what it will.—There are, it is true, +peculiar human bees, who only know how to suck +the bitterest and worst elements from the chalice +of every flower. It is true that all flowers contain +something that is not honey, but these bees may +be allowed to feel in their own way about the +happiness of our time, and continue to build up +their hive of discomfort. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>180.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Vision.</hi>—Hours of instruction and meditation +for adults, even the most mature, and such institutions +visited without compulsion but in accordance +with the moral injunction of the whole community; +the churches as the meeting-places most worthy and +rich in memories for the purpose; at the same time +daily festivals in honour of the reason that is attained +and attainable by man; a newer and fuller +budding and blooming of the ideal of the teacher, +in which the clergyman, the artist and the physician, +the man of science and the sage are blended, and +their individual virtues should come to the fore as +<pb n='097'/><anchor id='Pg097'/> +a collective virtue in their teaching itself, in their +discourses, in their method—this is my ever-recurring +vision, of which I firmly believe that it has +raised a corner of the veil of the future. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>181.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Education a Distortion.</hi>—The extraordinary +haphazardness of the whole system of education, +which leads every adult to say nowadays that his sole +educator was chance, and the weathercock-nature +of educational methods and aims, may be explained +as follows. The oldest and the newest culture-powers, +as in a turbulent mass-meeting, would rather +be heard than understood, and wish to prove at all +costs by their outcries and clamourings that they +still exist or already exist. The poor teachers and +educators are first dazed by this senseless noise, +then become silent and finally apathetic, allowing +anything to be done to them just as they in their +turn allow anything to be done to their pupils. +They are not trained themselves, so how are they +to train others? They are themselves no straight-growing, +vigorous, succulent trees, and he who +wishes to attach himself to them must wind and +bend himself and finally become distorted and deformed +as they. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>182.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Philosophers and Artists of the Age.</hi>—Rhapsody +and frigidity, burning desires and waning +of the heart's glow—this wretched medley is to +be found in the picture of the highest European +society of the present day. There the artist thinks +<pb n='098'/><anchor id='Pg098'/> +that he is achieving a great deal when through his +art he lights the torch of the heart as well as the +torch of desire. The philosopher has the same +notion, when in the chilliness of his heart, which he +has in common with his age, he cools hot desires in +himself and his following by his world-denying judgments. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>183.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Not To Be a Soldier of Culture Without +Necessity.</hi>—At last people are learning what it +costs us so dear not to know in our youth—that +we must first do superior actions and secondly +seek the superior wherever and under whatever +names it is to be found; that we must at once go out +of the way of all badness and mediocrity <emph>without +fighting it</emph>; and that even doubt as to the excellence +of a thing (such as quickly arises in one of practised +taste) should rank as an argument against it and a +reason for completely avoiding it. We must not +shrink from the danger of occasionally making a +mistake and confounding the less accessible good +with the bad and imperfect. Only he who can do +nothing better should attack the world's evils as +the soldier of culture. But those who should support +culture and spread its teachings ruin themselves +if they go about armed, and by precautions, night-watches, +and bad dreams turn the peace of their +domestic and artistic life into sinister unrest. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>184.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How Natural History Should Be Expounded.</hi>—Natural +history, like the history of the +<pb n='099'/><anchor id='Pg099'/> +war and victory of moral and intellectual forces +in the campaign against anxiety, self-delusion, laziness, +superstition, folly, should be so expounded +that every reader or listener may be continually +aroused to strive after mental and physical health +and soundness, after the feeling of joy, and be +awakened to the desire to be the heir and continuator +of mankind, to an ever nobler adventurous impulse. +Hitherto natural history has not found its +true language, because the inventive and eloquent +artists—who are needed for this purpose—never +rid themselves of a secret mistrust of it, and above +all never wish to learn from it a thorough lesson. +Nevertheless it must be conceded to the English +that their scientific manuals for the lower strata +of the people have made admirable strides towards +that ideal. But then such books are written by +their foremost men of learning, full, complete, and +inspiring natures, and not, as among us, by mediocre +investigators. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>185.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Genius in Humanity.</hi>—If genius, according to +Schopenhauer's observation, lies in the coherent +and vivid recollection of our own experience, a +striving towards genius in humanity collectively +might be deduced from the striving towards knowledge +of the whole historic past—which is beginning +to mark off the modern age more and more +as compared with earlier ages and has for the first +time broken down the barriers between nature and +spirit, men and animals, morality and physics. A +perfectly conceived history would be cosmic self-consciousness. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='100'/><anchor id='Pg100'/> + +<div> +<head>186.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Cult of Culture.</hi>—On great minds is +bestowed the terrifying all-too-human of their +natures, their blindnesses, deformities, and extravagances, +so that their more powerful, easily all-too-powerful +influence may be continually held +within bounds through the distrust aroused by such +qualities. For the sum-total of all that humanity +needs for its continued existence is so comprehensive, +and demands powers so diverse and so +numerous, that for every one-sided predilection, +whether in science or politics or art or commerce, to +which such natures would persuade us, mankind as +a whole has to pay a heavy price. It has always +been a great disaster to culture when human beings +are worshipped. In this sense we may understand +the precept of Mosaic law which forbids us to have +any other gods but God.—Side by side with the +cult of genius and violence we must always place, +as its complement and remedy, the cult of culture. +This cult can find an intelligent appreciation +even for the material, the inferior, the mean, the +misunderstood, the weak, the imperfect, the one-sided, +the incomplete, the untrue, the apparent, even +the wicked and horrible, and can grant them the +concession that <emph>all this is necessary</emph>. For the +continued harmony of all things human, attained +by amazing toil and strokes of luck, and just as +much the work of Cyclopes and ants as of geniuses, +shall never be lost. How, indeed, could we dispense +with that deep, universal, and often uncanny +<pb n='101'/><anchor id='Pg101'/> +bass, without which, after all, melody cannot be +melody? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>187.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Antique World and Pleasure.</hi>—The +man of the antique world understood better how to +rejoice, we understand better how to grieve less. +They continually found new motives for feeling +happy, for celebrating festivals, being inventive with +all their wealth of shrewdness and reflection. We, +on the other hand, concentrate our intellect rather +on the solving of problems which have in view +painlessness and the removal of sources of discomfort. +With regard to suffering existence, the +ancients sought to forget or in some way to convert +the sensation into a pleasant one, thus trying to +supply palliatives. We attack the causes of suffering, +and on the whole prefer to use prophylactics.—Perhaps +we are only building upon a foundation +whereon a later age will once more set up the temple +of joy. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>188.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Muses as Liars.</hi>—<q>We know how to tell +many lies,</q> so sang the Muses once, when they +revealed themselves to Hesiod.—The conception of +the artist as deceiver, once grasped, leads to important +discoveries. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>189.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How Paradoxical Homer can be.</hi>—Is there +anything more desperate, more horrible, more incredible, +shining over human destiny like a winter +sun, than that idea of Homer's: +</p> + +<pb n='102'/><anchor id='Pg102'/> + +<p> +<q>So the decree of the Gods willed it, and doomed +man to perish, that it might be a matter for song +even to distant generations</q>? +</p> + +<p> +In other words, we suffer and perish so that poets +may not lack material, and this is the dispensation +of those very Gods of Homer who seem much concerned +about the joyousness of generations to come, +but very little about us men of the present. To +think that such ideas should ever have entered the +head of a Greek! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>190.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Supplementary Justification of Existence.</hi>—Many +ideas have come into the world as +errors and fancies but have turned out truths, because +men have afterwards given them a genuine +basis to rest upon. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>191.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pro and Con Necessary.</hi>—He who has not +realised that every great man must not only be encouraged +but also, for the sake of the common +welfare, opposed, is certainly still a great child—or +himself a great man. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>192.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Injustice of Genius.</hi>—Genius is most unjust +towards geniuses, if they be contemporary. Either +it thinks it has no need of them and considers them +superfluous (for it can do without them), or their +influence crosses the path of its electric current, in +which case it even calls them pernicious. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='103'/><anchor id='Pg103'/> + +<div> +<head>193.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Saddest Destiny of a Prophet.</hi>—He +has worked twenty years to convince his contemporaries, +and succeeds at last, but in the meantime +his adversaries have also succeeded—he is no +longer convinced of himself. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>194.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Three Thinkers like one Spider.</hi>—In every +philosophical school three thinkers follow one another +in this relation: the first produces from +himself sap and seed, the second draws it out in +threads and spins a cunning web, the third waits in +this web for the victims who are caught in it—and +tries to live upon this philosophy. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>195.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>From Association with Authors.</hi>—It is as +bad a habit to go about with an author grasping +him by the nose as grasping him by the horn (and +every author has his horn). +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>196.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Team of Two.</hi>—Vagueness of thought and +outbursts of sentimentality are as often wedded to +the reckless desire to have one's own way by hook +or by crook, to make oneself alone of any consequence, +as a genuinely helpful, gracious, and kindly +spirit is wedded to the impulse towards clearness +<pb n='104'/><anchor id='Pg104'/> +and purity of thought and towards emotional moderation +and self-restraint. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>197.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Binding and Separating Forces.</hi>—Surely it +is in the heads of men that there arises the force +that binds them—an understanding of their common +interest or the reverse; and in their hearts the force +that separates them—a blind choosing and groping +in love and hate, a devotion to one at the expense +of all, and a consequent contempt for the common +utility. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>198.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Marksmen and Thinkers.</hi>—There are curious +marksmen who miss their mark, but leave the +shooting-gallery with secret pride in the fact that +their bullet at any rate flew very far (beyond the +mark, it is true), or that it did not hit the mark but +hit something else. There are thinkers of the same +stamp. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>199.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Attack from Two Sides.</hi>—We act as enemies +towards an intellectual tendency or movement when +we are superior to it and disapprove of its aim, or +when its aim is too high and unrecognisable to our +eye—in other words, when it is superior to us. So +the same party may be attacked from two sides, +from above and from below. Not infrequently the +assailants, from common hatred, form an alliance +which is more repulsive than all that they hate. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='105'/><anchor id='Pg105'/> + +<div> +<head>200.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Original.</hi>—Original minds are distinguished not +by being the first to see a new thing, but by seeing +the old, well-known thing, which is seen and overlooked +by every one, as something new. The first +discoverer is usually that quite ordinary and unintellectual +visionary—chance. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>201.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Error of Philosophers.</hi>—The philosopher +believes that the value of his philosophy lies in the +whole, in the structure. Posterity finds it in the +stone with which he built and with which, from that +time forth, men will build oftener and better—in +other words, in the fact that the structure may be +destroyed and yet have value as material. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>202.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Wit.</hi>—Wit is the epitaph of an emotion. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>203.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Moment before Solution.</hi>—In science it +occurs every day and every hour that a man, immediately +before the solution, remains stuck, being +convinced that his efforts have been entirely in vain—like +one who, in untying a noose, hesitates at the +moment when it is nearest to coming loose, because +at that very moment it looks most like a knot. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>204.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Among the Visionaries.</hi>—The thoughtful +man, and he who is sure of his intelligence, may +<pb n='106'/><anchor id='Pg106'/> +profitably consort with visionaries for a decade and +abandon himself in their torrid zone to a moderate +insanity. He will thus have travelled a good part +of the road towards that cosmopolitanism of the intellect +which can say without presumption, <q>Nothing +intellectual is alien to me.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>205.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Keen Air.</hi>—The best and healthiest element in +science as amid the mountains is the keen air that +plays about it.—Intellectual molly-coddles (such as +artists) dread and abuse science on account of this +atmosphere. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>206.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Why Savants are Nobler than Artists.</hi>—Science +requires nobler natures than does poetry; +natures that are more simple, less ambitious, more +restrained, calmer, that think less of posthumous +fame and can bury themselves in studies which, in +the eye of the many, scarcely seem worthy of such +a sacrifice of personality. There is another loss of +which they are conscious. The nature of their occupation, +its continual exaction of the greatest sobriety, +weakens their will; the fire is not kept up so vigorously +as on the hearths of poetic minds. As such, +they often lose their strength and prime earlier than +artists do—and, as has been said, they are aware of +their danger. Under all circumstances they seem +less gifted because they shine less, and thus they +will always be rated below their value. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='107'/><anchor id='Pg107'/> + +<div> +<head>207.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How Far Piety Obscures.</hi>—In later centuries +the great man is credited with all the great qualities +and virtues of his century. Thus all that is best +is continually obscured by piety, which treats the +picture as a sacred one, to be surrounded with all +manner of votive offerings. In the end the picture +is completely veiled and covered by the offerings, +and thenceforth is more an object of faith than of +contemplation. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>208.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Standing on One's Head.</hi>—If we make truth +stand on its head, we generally fail to notice that +our own head, too, is not in its right position. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>209.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Origin and Utility of Fashion.</hi>—The obvious +satisfaction of the individual with his own form +excites imitation and gradually creates the form of +the many—that is, fashion. The many desire, and +indeed attain, that same comforting satisfaction with +their own form. Consider how many reasons every +man has for anxiety and shy self-concealment, and +how, on this account, three-fourths of his energy +and goodwill is crippled and may become unproductive! +So we must be very grateful to fashion for +unfettering that three-fourths and communicating +self-confidence and the power of cheerful compromise +to those who feel themselves bound to each +other by its law. Even foolish laws give freedom +<pb n='108'/><anchor id='Pg108'/> +and calm of the spirit, so long as many persons have +submitted to their sway. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>210.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Looseners of Tongues.</hi>—The value of many +men and books rests solely on their faculty for compelling +all to speak out the most hidden and intimate +things. They are looseners of tongues and +crowbars to open the most stubborn teeth. Many +events and misdeeds which are apparently only sent +as a curse to mankind possess this value and utility. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>211.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Intellectual Freedom of Domicile.</hi><note place='foot'>The original word, <foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Freizügig</foreign>, means, in the modern German +Empire, possessing the free right of migration, without +pecuniary burdens or other restrictions, from one German +state to another. The play on words in <foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Zug zur Freiheit</foreign> +(<q>impulse to freedom</q>) is untranslateable.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note>—Who +of us could dare to call himself a <q>free spirit</q> if he +could not render homage after his fashion, by taking +on his own shoulders a portion of that burden of +public dislike and abuse, to men to whom this name +is attached as a reproach? We might as well call +ourselves in all seriousness <q>spirits free of domicile</q> +(<foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Freizügig</foreign>) (and without that arrogant or high-spirited +defiance) because we feel the impulse to +freedom (<foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Zug zur Freiheit</foreign>) as the strongest instinct +of our minds and, in contrast to fixed and limited +minds, practically see our ideal in an intellectual +nomadism—to use a modest and almost depreciatory +expression. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='109'/><anchor id='Pg109'/> + +<div> +<head>212.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Yes, the Favour of the Muses!</hi>—What +Homer says on this point goes right to our heart, so +true, so terrible is it: +</p> + +<p> +<q>The Muse loved him with all her heart and gave +him good and evil, for she took away his eyes and +vouchsafed him sweet song.</q> +</p> + +<p> +This is an endless text for thinking men: she +gives good and evil, that is <emph>her</emph> manner of loving +with all her heart and soul! And each man will +interpret specially for himself why we poets and +thinkers have to give up our eyes in her service.<note place='foot'>Nietzsche seems to allude to his own case, for he ultimately +contracted a myopia which bordered on blindness.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>213.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Against the Cultivation of Music.</hi>—The +artistic training of the eye from childhood upwards +by means of drawing, painting, landscape-sketching, +figures, scenes, involves an estimable gain in life, +making the eyesight keen, calm, and enduring in +the observation of men and circumstances. No +similar secondary advantage arises from the artistic +cultivation of the ear, whence public schools will +generally do well to give the art of the eye a preference +over that of the ear. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>214.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Discoverers of Trivialities.</hi>—Subtle +minds, from which nothing is farther than trivialities, +often discover a triviality after taking all manner of +<pb n='110'/><anchor id='Pg110'/> +circuitous routes and mountain paths, and, to the +astonishment of the non-subtle, rejoice exceedingly. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>215.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Morals of Savants.</hi>—A regular and rapid +advance in the sciences is only possible when the +individual is compelled to be not so distrustful as +to test every calculation and assertion of others, in +fields which are remote from his own. A necessary +condition, however, is that every man should have +competitors in his own sphere, who are extremely +distrustful and keep a sharp eye upon him. From +this juxtaposition of <q>not too distrustful</q> and <q>extremely +distrustful</q> arises sincerity in the republic +of learning. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>216.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Reasons for Sterility.</hi>—There are highly +gifted minds which are always sterile only because, +from temperamental weakness, they are too impatient +to wait for their pregnancy. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>217.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Perverted World of Tears.</hi>—The +manifold discomforts which the demands of higher +culture cause to man finally pervert his nature to +such an extent that he usually keeps himself stoical +and unbending. Thus he has tears in reserve only +for rare occasions of happiness, so that many must +weep even at the enjoyment of painlessness—only +when happy does his heart still beat. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='111'/><anchor id='Pg111'/> + +<div> +<head>218.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Greeks as Interpreters.</hi>—When we +speak of the Greeks we unwittingly speak of to-day +and yesterday; their universally known history is +a blank mirror, always reflecting something that is +not in the mirror itself. We enjoy the freedom of +speaking about them in order to have the right +of being silent about others—so that these Greeks +themselves may whisper something in the ear of +the reflective reader. Thus the Greeks facilitate to +modern men the communication of much that is +debatable and hard to communicate. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>219.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Of the Acquired Character of the Greeks.</hi>—We +are easily led astray by the renowned Greek +clearness, transparency, simplicity, and order, by their +crystal-like naturalness and crystal-like art, into believing +that all these gifts were bestowed on the +Greeks—for instance, that they could not but write +well, as Lichtenberg expressed it on one occasion. +Yet no statement could be more hasty and more +untenable. The history of prose from Gorgias to +Demosthenes shows a course of toiling and wrestling +towards light from the obscure, overloaded, +and tasteless, reminding one of the labour of heroes +who had to construct the first roads through forest +and bog. The dialogue of tragedy was the real +achievement of the dramatist, owing to its uncommon +clearness and precision, whereas the national +tendency was to riot in symbolism and innuendo, +a tendency expressly fostered by the great choral +<pb n='112'/><anchor id='Pg112'/> +lyric. Similarly it was the achievement of Homer +to liberate the Greeks from Asiatic pomp and +gloom, and to have attained the clearness of architecture +in details great and small. Nor was it by any +means thought easy to say anything in a pure and +illuminating style. How else should we account for +the great admiration for the epigram of Simonides, +which shows itself so simple, with no gilded points +or arabesques of wit, but says all that it has to say +plainly and with the calm of the sun, not with the +straining after effect of the lightning. Since the +struggle towards light from an almost native twilight +is Greek, a thrill of jubilation runs through the people +when they hear a laconic sentence, the language of +elegy or the maxims of the Seven Wise Men. Hence +they were so fond of giving precepts in verse, a practice +that we find objectionable. This was the true +Apolline task of the Hellenic spirit, with the aim +of rising superior to the perils of metre and the +obscurity which is otherwise characteristic of poetry. +Simplicity, flexibility, and sobriety were wrestled +for and not given by nature to this people. The +danger of a relapse into Asianism constantly hovered +over the Greeks, and really overtook them from time +to time like a murky, overflowing tide of mystical +impulses, primitive savagery and darkness. We +see them plunge in; we see Europe, as it were, +flooded, washed away—for Europe was very small +then; but they always emerge once more to the +light, good swimmers and divers that they are, those +fellow-countrymen of Odysseus. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='113'/><anchor id='Pg113'/> + +<div> +<head>220.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Pagan Characteristic.</hi>—Perhaps there +is nothing more astonishing to the observer of the +Greek world than to discover that the Greeks from +time to time held festivals, as it were, for all their +passions and evil tendencies alike, and in fact even +established a kind of series of festivals, by order of +the State, for their <q>all-too-human.</q> This is the +pagan characteristic of their world, which Christianity +has never understood and never can understand, and +has always combated and despised.—They accepted +this all-too-human as unavoidable, and preferred, +instead of railing at it, to give it a kind of secondary +right by grafting it on to the usages of society and +religion. All in man that has power they called +divine, and wrote it on the walls of their heaven. +They do not deny this natural instinct that expresses +itself in evil characteristics, but regulate and limit +it to definite cults and days, so as to turn those turbulent +streams into as harmless a course as possible, +after devising sufficient precautionary measures. +That is the root of all the moral broad-mindedness +of antiquity. To the wicked, the dubious, the backward, +the animal element, as to the barbaric, pre-Hellenic +and Asiatic, which still lived in the depths +of Greek nature, they allowed a moderate outflow, +and did not strive to destroy it utterly. The whole +system was under the domain of the State, which +was built up not on individuals or castes, but on +common human qualities. In the structure of the +State the Greeks show that wonderful sense for typical +facts which later on enabled them to become investigators +of Nature, historians, geographers, and +<pb n='114'/><anchor id='Pg114'/> +philosophers. It was not a limited moral law of +priests or castes, which had to decide about the +constitution of the State and State worship, but the +most comprehensive view of the reality of all that is +human. Whence do the Greeks derive this freedom, +this sense of reality? Perhaps from Homer and the +poets who preceded him. For just those poets whose +nature is generally not the most wise or just possess, +in compensation, that delight in reality and activity +of every kind, and prefer not to deny even evil. It +suffices for them if evil moderates itself, does not +kill or inwardly poison everything—in other words, +they have similar ideas to those of the founders of +Greek constitutions, and were their teachers and +forerunners. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>221.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Exceptional Greeks.</hi>—In Greece, deep, thorough, +serious minds were the exception. The national +instinct tended rather to regard the serious +and thorough as a kind of grimace. To borrow +forms from a foreign source, not to create but to +transform into the fairest shapes—that is Greek. +To imitate, not for utility but for artistic illusion, +ever and anon to gain the mastery over forced +seriousness, to arrange, beautify, simplify—that is +the continual task from Homer to the Sophists of +the third and fourth centuries of our era, who are all +outward show, pompous speech, declamatory gestures, +and address themselves to shallow souls that +care only for appearance, sound, and effect. And +now let us estimate the greatness of those exceptional +Greeks, who created science! Whoever tells of them, +tells the most heroic story of the human mind! +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='115'/><anchor id='Pg115'/> + +<div> +<head>222.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Simplicity not the First nor the Last +Thing in Point of Time.</hi>—In the history of +religious ideas many errors about development +and false gradations are made in matters which +in reality are not consecutive outgrowths but contemporary +yet separate phenomena. In particular, +simplicity has still far too much the reputation of +being the oldest, the initial thing. Much that is +human arises by subtraction and division, and not +merely by doubling, addition, and unification.—For +instance, men still believe in a gradual development +of the idea of God from those unwieldy stones and +blocks of wood up to the highest forms of anthropomorphism. +Yet the fact is that so long as divinity +was attributed to and felt in trees, logs of wood, +stones, and beasts, people shrank from humanising +their forms as from an act of godlessness. First +of all, poets, apart from all considerations of cult +and the ban of religious shame, have had to make +the inner imagination of man accustomed and compliant +to this notion. Wherever more pious periods +and phases of thought gained the upper hand, this +liberating influence of poets fell into the background, +and sanctity remained, after as before, on +the side of the monstrous, uncanny, quite peculiarly +inhuman. And then, much of what the inner imagination +ventures to picture to itself would exert a +painful influence if externally and corporeally represented. +The inner eye is far bolder and more +shameless than the outer (whence the well-known +difficulty and, to some extent, impossibility, of +<pb n='116'/><anchor id='Pg116'/> +working epic material into dramatic form). The +religious imagination for a long time entirely refuses +to believe in the identity of God with an image: +the image is meant to fix the <foreign rend='italic'>numen</foreign> of the Deity, +actually and specifically, although in a mysterious +and not altogether intelligible way. The oldest +image of the Gods is meant to shelter and at the +same time to hide<note place='foot'>The play on <foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>bergen</foreign> (shelter) and <foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>verbergen</foreign> (hide) is untranslateable.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> the God—to indicate him but not +to expose him to view. No Greek really looked upon +his Apollo as a pointed pillar of wood, his Eros as +a lump of stone. These were symbols, which were +intended to inspire dread of the manifestation of the +God. It was the same with those blocks of wood +out of which individual limbs, generally in excessive +number, were fashioned with the scantiest of carving—as, +for instance, a Laconian Apollo with four +hands and four ears. In the incomplete, symbolical, +or excessive lies a terrible sanctity, which is meant +to prevent us from thinking of anything human or +similar to humanity. It is not an embryonic stage +of art in which such things are made—as if they +were not <emph>able</emph> to speak more plainly and portray +more sensibly in the age when such images were +honoured! Rather, men are afraid of just one thing—direct +speaking out. Just as the cella hides and +conceals in a mysterious twilight, yet not completely, +the holy of holies, the real <foreign rend='italic'>numen</foreign> of the Deity; just +as, again, the peripteric temple hides the cella, protecting +it from indiscreet eyes as with a screen and +a veil, yet not completely—so it is with the image of +the Deity, and at the same time the concealment of +<pb n='117'/><anchor id='Pg117'/> +the Deity.—Only when outside the cult, in the profane +world of athletic contest, the joy in the victor +had risen so high that the ripples thus started +reacted upon the lake of religious emotion, was +the statue of the victor set up before the temple. +Then the pious pilgrim had to accustom his eye +and his soul, whether he would or no, to the inevitable +sight of human beauty and super-strength, so +that the worship of men and Gods melted into each +other from physical and spiritual contact. Then too +for the first time the fear of really humanising the +figures of the Gods is lost, and the mighty arena for +great plastic art is opened—even now with the limitation +that wherever there is to be adoration the +primitive form and ugliness are carefully preserved +and copied. But the Hellene, as he dedicates and +makes offerings, may now with religious sanction +indulge in his delight in making God become a man. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>223.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Whither We must Travel.</hi>—Immediate self-observation +is not enough, by a long way, to enable +us to learn to know ourselves. We need history, for +the past continues to flow through us in a hundred +channels. We ourselves are, after all, nothing but +our own sensation at every moment of this continued +flow. Even here, when we wish to step down into +the stream of our apparently most peculiar and personal +development, Heraclitus' aphorism, <q>You cannot +step twice into the same river,</q> holds good.—This +is a piece of wisdom which has, indeed, gradually +become trite, but nevertheless has remained as +<pb n='118'/><anchor id='Pg118'/> +strong and true as it ever was. It is the same with +the saying that, in order to understand history, we +must scrutinise the living remains of historical +periods; that we must travel, as old Herodotus travelled, +to other nations, especially to those so-called +savage or half-savage races in regions where man +has doffed or not yet donned European garb. For +they are ancient and firmly established steps of +culture on which we can stand. There is, however, +a more subtle art and aim in travelling, which does +not always necessitate our passing from place to +place and going thousands of miles away. Very +probably the last three centuries, in all their colourings +and refractions of culture, survive even in our +vicinity, only they have to be discovered. In some +families, or even in individuals, the strata are still +superimposed on each other, beautifully and perceptibly; +in other places there are dispersions and +displacements of the structure which are harder to +understand. Certainly in remote districts, in less +known mountain valleys, circumscribed communities +have been able more easily to maintain an admirable +pattern of a far older sentiment, a pattern +that must here be investigated. On the other hand, +it is improbable that such discoveries will be made +in Berlin, where man comes into the world washed-out +and sapless. He who after long practice of this +art of travel has become a hundred-eyed Argus will +accompany his Io—I mean his ego—everywhere, and +in Egypt and Greece, Byzantium and Rome, France +and Germany, in the age of wandering or settled +races, in Renaissance or Reformation, at home and +abroad, in sea, forest, plant, and mountain, will again +<pb n='119'/><anchor id='Pg119'/> +light upon the travel-adventure of this ever-growing, +ever-altered ego.—Thus self-knowledge becomes +universal knowledge as regards the entire past, and, +by another chain of observation, which can only be +indicated here, self-direction and self-training in the +freest and most far-seeing spirits might become universal +direction as regards all future humanity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>224.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Balm and Poison.</hi>—We cannot ponder too +deeply on this fact: Christianity is the religion of +antiquity grown old; it presupposes degenerate old +culture-stocks, and on them it had, and still has, power +to work like balm. There are periods when ears and +eyes are full of slime, so that they can no longer +hear the voice of reason and philosophy or see the +wisdom that walks in bodily shape, whether it bears +the name of Epictetus or of Epicurus. Then, perhaps, +the erection of the martyr's cross and the +<q>trumpet of the last judgment</q> may have the effect +of still inspiring such races to end their lives decently. +If we think of Juvenal's Rome, of that +poisonous toad with the eyes of Venus, we understand +what it means to make the sign of the Cross +before the world, we honour the silent Christian community +and are grateful for its having stifled the +Greco-Roman Empire. If, indeed, most men were +then born in spiritual slavery, with the sensuality of +old men, what a pleasure to meet beings who were +more soul than body, and who seemed to realise the +Greek idea of the shades of the under-world—shy, +scurrying, chirping, kindly creatures, with a reversion +<pb n='120'/><anchor id='Pg120'/> +on the <q>better life,</q> and therefore so unassuming, +so secretly scornful, so proudly patient!—This +Christianity, as the evening chime of the <emph>good</emph> antiquity, +with cracked, weary and yet melodious bell, +is balm in the ears even to one who only now traverses +those centuries historically. What must it +have been to those men themselves!—To young and +fresh barbarian nations, on the other hand, Christianity +is a poison. For to implant the teaching of +sinfulness and damnation in the heroic, childlike, +and animal soul of the old Germans is nothing but +poisoning. An enormous chemical fermentation and +decomposition, a medley of sentiments and judgments, +a rank growth of adventurous legend, and +hence in the long run a fundamental weakening of +such barbarian peoples, was the inevitable result. +True, without this weakening what should we have +left of Greek culture, of the whole cultured past of +the human race? For the barbarians untouched by +Christianity knew very well how to make a clean +sweep of old cultures, as was only too clearly shown +by the heathen conquerors of Romanised Britain. +Thus Christianity, against its will, was compelled to +aid in making <q>the antique world</q> immortal.—There +remains, however, a counter-question and the possibility +of a counter-reckoning. Without this weakening +through the poisoning referred to, would any of +those fresh stocks—the Germans, for instance—have +been in a position gradually to find by themselves a +higher, a peculiar, a new culture, of which the most +distant conception would therefore have been lost +to humanity?—In this, as in every case, we do not +know, Christianly speaking, whether God owes the +<pb n='121'/><anchor id='Pg121'/> +devil or the devil God more thanks for everything +having turned out as it has. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>225.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Faith makes Holy and Condemns.</hi>—A +Christian who happened upon forbidden paths of +thought might well ask himself on some occasion +whether it is really necessary that there should be a +God, side by side with a representative Lamb, if +faith in the existence of these beings suffices to produce +the same influences? If they do exist after +all, are they not superfluous beings? For all that +is given by the Christian religion to the human soul, +all that is beneficent, consoling, and edifying, just as +much as all that depresses and crushes, emanates +from that faith and not from the objects of that +faith. It is here as in another well-known case—there +were indeed no witches, but the terrible effects +of the belief in witches were the same as if they +really had existed. For all occasions where the +Christian awaits the immediate intervention of a +God, though in vain (for there is no God), his religion +is inventive enough to find subterfuges and reasons +for tranquillity. In so far Christianity is an ingenious +religion.—Faith, indeed, has up to the present not +been able to move real mountains, although I do +not know who assumed that it could. But it can +put mountains where there are none. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>226.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Tragi-Comedy of Regensburg.</hi>—Here +and there we see with terrible clearness the harlequinade +of Fortune, how she fastens the rope, on +<pb n='122'/><anchor id='Pg122'/> +which she wills that succeeding centuries should +dance, on to a few days, one place, the condition +and opinions of one brain. Thus the fate of modern +German history lies in the days of that disputation +at Regensburg: the peaceful settlement of ecclesiastical +and moral affairs, without religious wars or a +counter-reformation, and also the unity of the German +nation, seemed assured: the deep, gentle spirit of +Contarini hovered for one moment over the theological +squabble, victorious, as representative of the riper +Italian piety, reflecting the morning glory of intellectual +freedom. But Luther's hard head, full of +suspicions and strange misgivings, showed resistance. +Because justification by grace appeared to +him <emph>his</emph> greatest motto and discovery, he did not +believe the phrase in the mouth of Italians; whereas, +in point of fact, as is well known, they had +invented it much earlier and spread it throughout +Italy in deep silence. In this apparent agreement +Luther saw the tricks of the devil, and hindered the +work of peace as well as he could, thereby advancing +to a great extent the aims of the Empire's foes.—And +now, in order to have a still stronger idea of +the dreadful farcicality of it all, let us add that none +of the principles about which men then disputed in +Regensburg—neither that of original sin, nor that of +redemption by proxy, nor that of justification by +faith—is in any way true or even has any connection +with truth: that they are now all recognised as incapable +of being discussed. Yet on this account +the world was set on fire—that is to say, by opinions +which correspond to no things or realities; whereas +as regards purely philological questions—as, for instance, +<pb n='123'/><anchor id='Pg123'/> +that of the sacramental words in the Eucharist—discussion +at any rate is permitted, because in this +case the truth can be said. But <q>where nothing is, +even truth has lost her right.</q><note place='foot'>Allusion to German proverb: <q>Where there is nothing, +the Emperor has lost his rights.</q>—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note>—Lastly, it only remains +to be said that it is true these principles give +rise to sources of power so mighty that without them +all the mills of the modern world could not be driven +with such force. And it is primarily a matter of +force, only secondarily of truth (and perhaps not +even secondarily)—is it not so, my dear up-to-date +friends? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>227.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Goethe's Errors.</hi>—Goethe is a signal exception +among great artists in that he did not live +within the limited confines of his real capacity, as if +that must be the essential, the distinctive, the unconditional, +and the last thing in him and for all the +world. Twice he intended to possess something +higher than he really possessed—and went astray +in the second half of his life, where he seems quite +convinced that he is one of the great scientific discoverers +and illuminators. So too in the first half +of his life he demanded of himself something higher +than the poetic art seemed to him—and here already +he made a mistake. That nature wished to make +him a plastic artist,—<emph>this</emph> was his inwardly glowing +and scorching secret, which finally drove him to +Italy, that he might give vent to his mania in this +direction and make to it every possible sacrifice. +At last, shrewd as he was, and honestly averse to +<pb n='124'/><anchor id='Pg124'/> +any mental perversion in himself, he discovered that +a tricksy elf of desire had attracted him to the belief +in this calling, and that he must free himself of the +greatest passion of his heart and bid it farewell. The +painful conviction, tearing and gnawing at his vitals, +that it was necessary to bid farewell, finds full expression +in the character of Tasso. Over Tasso, +that Werther intensified, hovers the premonition of +something worse than death, as when one says: +<q>Now it is over, after this farewell: how shall I go +on living without going mad?</q> These two fundamental +errors of his life gave Goethe, in face of a +purely literary attitude towards poetry (the only +attitude then known to the world), such an unembarrassed +and apparently almost arbitrary position. +Not to speak of the period when Schiller (poor +Schiller, who had no time himself and left no time +to others) drove away his shy dread of poetry, his +fear of all literary life and craftsmanship, Goethe +appears like a Greek who now and then visits his +beloved, doubting whether she be not a Goddess +to whom he can give no proper name. In all his +poetry one notices the inspiring neighbourhood of +plastic art and Nature. The features of these figures +that floated before him—and perhaps he always +thought he was on the track of the metamorphoses +of one Goddess—became, without his will or knowledge, +the features of all the children of his art. +Without the extravagances of error he would not +have been Goethe—that is, the only German artist +in writing who has not yet become out of date—just +because he desired as little to be a writer as a German +by vocation. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='125'/><anchor id='Pg125'/> + +<div> +<head>228.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Travellers and their Grades.</hi>—Among +travellers we may distinguish five grades. The +first and lowest grade is of those who travel and +are seen—they become really travelled and are, as +it were, blind. Next come those who really see +the world. The third class experience the results +of their seeing. The fourth weave their experience +into their life and carry it with them henceforth. +Lastly, there are some men of the highest strength +who, as soon as they have returned home, must +finally and necessarily work out in their lives and +productions all the things seen that they have +experienced and incorporated in themselves.—Like +these five species of travellers, all mankind goes +through the whole pilgrimage of life, the lowest as +purely passive, the highest as those who act and +live out their lives without keeping back any residue +of inner experiences. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>229.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>In Climbing Higher.</hi>—So soon as we climb +higher than those who hitherto admired us, we +appear to them as sunken and fallen. For they +imagined that under all circumstances they were on +the heights in our company (maybe also through +our agency). +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>230.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Measure and Moderation.</hi>—Of two quite lofty +things, measure and moderation, it is best never to +speak. A few know their force and significance, +<pb n='126'/><anchor id='Pg126'/> +from the mysterious paths of inner experiences +and conversions: they honour in them something +quite godlike, and are afraid to speak aloud. All +the rest hardly listen when they are spoken about, +and think the subjects under discussion are tedium +and mediocrity. We must perhaps except those +who have once heard a warning note from that +realm but have stopped their ears against the sound. +The recollection of it makes them angry and exasperated. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>231.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Humanity of Friendship and Comradeship.</hi>—<q>If +thou wilt take the left hand, then I will +go to the right,</q><note place='foot'>Genesis xiii. 9.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> that feeling is the hall-mark of +humanity in intimate intercourse, and without that +feeling every friendship, every band of apostles or +disciples, sooner or later becomes a fraud. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>232.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Profound.</hi>—Men of profound thought appear +to themselves in intercourse with others like +comedians, for in order to be understood they must +always simulate superficiality. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>233.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>For the Scorners of <q>Herd-Humanity.</q></hi>—He +who regards human beings as a herd, and flies +from them as fast as he can, will certainly be caught +up by them and gored upon their horns. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='127'/><anchor id='Pg127'/> + +<div> +<head>234.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Main Transgression against the +Vain.</hi>—In society, he who gives another an opportunity +of favourably setting forth his knowledge, +sentiments, and experience sets himself above him. +Unless he is felt by the other to be a superior being +without limitation, he is guilty of an attack upon his +vanity, while what he aimed at was the gratification +of the other man's vanity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>235.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Disappointment.</hi>—When a long life of action +distinguished by speeches and writings gives publicity +to a man's personality, personal intercourse +with him is generally disappointing on two grounds. +Firstly, one expects too much from a brief period +of intercourse (namely, all that the thousand and +one opportunities of life can alone bring out). +Secondly, no recognised person gives himself the +trouble to woo recognition in individual cases. He +is too careless, and we are at too high a tension. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>236.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Two Sources of Kindness.</hi>—To treat all men +with equal good-humour, and to be kind without +distinction of persons, may arise as much from a +profound contempt for mankind as from an ingrained +love of humanity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>237.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Wanderer in the Mountains to Himself.</hi>—There +are certain signs that you have gone +<pb n='128'/><anchor id='Pg128'/> +farther and higher. There is a freer, wider prospect +before you, the air blows cooler yet milder in your +face (you have unlearned the folly of confounding +mildness with warmth), your gait is more firm and +vigorous, courage and discretion have waxed together. +On all these grounds your journey may +now be more lonely and in any case more perilous +than heretofore, if indeed not to the extent believed +by those who from the misty valley see you, +the roamer, striding on the mountains. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>238.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>With the Exception of Our Neighbour.</hi>—I +admit that my head is set wrong on my neck +only, for every other man, as is well known, knows +better than I what I should do or leave alone. +The only one who cannot help me is myself, poor +beggar! Are we not all like statues on which false +heads have been placed? Eh, dear neighbour?—Ah +no; you, just you, are the exception! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>239.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Caution.</hi>—We must either not go about at all +with people who are lacking in the reverence for +personalities, or inexorably fetter them beforehand +with the manacles of convention. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>240.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Wish to Appear Vain.</hi>—In conversation +with strangers or little-known acquaintances, to +express only selected thoughts, to speak of one's +famous acquaintances, and important experiences +<pb n='129'/><anchor id='Pg129'/> +and travels, is a sign that one is not proud, or at +least would not like to appear proud. Vanity is the +polite mask of pride. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>241.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Good Friendship.</hi>—A good friendship arises +when the one man deeply respects the other, more +even than himself; loves him also, though not so +much as himself; and finally, to facilitate intercourse, +knows how to add the delicate bloom and veneer +of intimacy, but at the same time wisely refrains +from a true, real intimacy, from the confounding of +<foreign rend='italic'>meum</foreign> and <foreign rend='italic'>tuum</foreign>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>242.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Friends as Ghosts.</hi>—If we change ourselves +vitally, our friends, who have not changed, become +ghosts of our own past: their voice sounds shadowy +and dreadful to us, as if we heard our own voice +speaking, but younger, harder, less mellow. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>243.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>One Eye and Two Glances.</hi>—The same people +whose eyes naturally plead for favours and indulgences +are accustomed, from their frequent humiliations +and cravings for revenge, to assume a shameless +glance as well. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>244.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Haze of Distance.</hi>—A child throughout +life—that sounds very touching, but is only the +verdict from the distance. Seen and known close +at hand, he is always called <q>puerile throughout +life.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='130'/><anchor id='Pg130'/> + +<div> +<head>245.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Advantage and Disadvantage in the Same +Misunderstanding.</hi>—The mute perplexity of +the subtle brain is usually understood by the non-subtle +as a silent superiority, and is much dreaded +whereas the perception of perplexity would produce +good will. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>246.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Sage giving Himself out to be a +Fool.</hi>—The philanthropy of the sage sometimes +makes him decide to pretend to be excited, enraged, +or delighted, so that he may not hurt his surroundings +by the coldness and rationality of his true +nature. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>247.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Forcing Oneself to Attention.</hi>—So soon +as we note that any one in intercourse and conversation +with us has to force himself to attention, we +have adequate evidence that he loves us not, or loves +us no longer. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>248.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Way to a Christian Virtue.</hi>—Learning +from one's enemies is the best way to love them, for +it inspires us with a grateful mood towards them. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>249.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Stratagem of the Importunate.</hi>—The importunate +man gives us gold coins as change for +our convention coins, and thereby tries to force us +afterwards to treat our convention as an oversight +and him as an exception. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='131'/><anchor id='Pg131'/> + +<div> +<head>250.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Reason for Dislike.</hi>—We become hostile to +many an artist or writer, not because we notice in +the end that he has duped us, but because he did +not find more subtle means necessary to entrap us. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>251.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>In Parting.</hi>—Not by the way one soul approaches +another, but by the way it separates, do I +recognise its relationship and homogeneity with the +other. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>252.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Silentium.</hi>—We must not speak about our +friends, or we renounce the sentiment of friendship. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>253.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Impoliteness.</hi>—Impoliteness is often the sign +of a clumsy modesty, which when taken by surprise +loses its head and would fain hide the fact by means +of rudeness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>254.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Honesty's Miscalculation.</hi>—Our newest acquaintances +are sometimes the first to learn what +we have hitherto kept dark. We have the foolish +notion that our proof of confidence is the strongest +fetter wherewith to hold them fast. But <emph>they</emph> do +not know enough about us to feel so strongly the +sacrifice involved in our speaking out, and betray +our secrets to others without any idea of betrayal. +Hereby we possibly lose our old friends. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='132'/><anchor id='Pg132'/> + +<div> +<head>255.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>In the Ante-Chamber of Favour.</hi>—All men +whom we let stand long in the ante-chamber of our +favour get into a state of fermentation or become +bitter. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>256.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Warning to the Despised.</hi>—When we have +sunk unmistakably in the estimation of mankind +we should cling tooth and nail to modesty in intercourse, +or we shall betray to others that we have +sunk in our own estimation as well. Cynicism in +intercourse is a sign that a man, when alone, treats +himself too as a dog. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>257.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Ignorance often Ennobles.</hi>—With regard to +the respect of those who pay respect, it is an advantage +ostensibly not to understand certain things. +Ignorance, too, confers privileges. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>258.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Opponent of Grace.</hi>—The impatient and +arrogant man does not care for grace, feeling it +to be a corporeal, visible reproach against himself. +For grace is heartfelt toleration in movement and +gesture. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>259.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>On Seeing Again.</hi>—When old friends see each +other again after a long separation, it often happens +that they affect an interest in matters to which they +<pb n='133'/><anchor id='Pg133'/> +have long since become indifferent. Sometimes +both remark this, but dare not raise the veil—from +a mournful doubt. Hence arise conversations as +in the realm of the dead. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>260.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Making Friends only with the Industrious.</hi>—The +man of leisure is dangerous to his friends, +for, having nothing to do, he talks of what his friends +are doing or not doing, interferes, and finally makes +himself a nuisance. The clever man will only make +friends with the industrious. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>261.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>One Weapon twice as Much as Two.</hi>—It is +an unequal combat when one man defends his +cause with head and heart, the other with head +alone. The first has sun and wind against him, as +it were, and his two weapons interfere with each +other: he loses the prize—in the eyes of truth. +True, the victory of the second, with his one +weapon, is seldom a victory after the hearts of all +the other spectators, and makes him unpopular. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>262.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Depth and Troubled Waters.</hi>—The public +easily confounds him who fishes in troubled waters +with him who pumps up from the depths. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>263.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Demonstrating One's Vanity to Friend +and Foe.</hi>—Many a man, from vanity, maltreats +<pb n='134'/><anchor id='Pg134'/> +even his friends, when in the presence of witnesses +to whom he wishes to make his own preponderance +clear. Others exaggerate the merits of their enemies, +in order to point proudly to the fact that they are +worthy of such foes. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>264.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Cooling Off.</hi>—The over-heating of the heart is +generally allied with illness of the head and judgment. +He who is concerned for a time with the +health of his head must know what he has to cool, +careless of the future of his heart. For if we are +capable at all of giving warmth, we are sure to +become warm again and then have our summer. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>265.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mingled Feelings.</hi>—Towards science women +and self-seeking artists entertain a feeling that is +composed of envy and sentimentality. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>266.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Where Danger is Greatest.</hi>—We seldom +break our leg so long as life continues a toilsome +upward climb. The danger comes when we begin +to take things easily and choose the convenient +paths. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>267.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Not too Early.</hi>—We must beware of becoming +sharp too early, or we shall also become thin too +early. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>268.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Joy in Refractoriness.</hi>—The good teacher +knows cases where he is proud that his pupil remains +<pb n='135'/><anchor id='Pg135'/> +true to himself in opposition to him—at +times when the youth must not understand the man +or would be harmed by understanding him. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>269.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Experiment of Honesty.</hi>—Young men, +who wish to be more honest than they have been, +seek as victim some one acknowledged to be honest, +attacking him first with an attempt to reach his +height by abuse—with the underlying notion that +this first experiment at any rate is void of danger. +For just such a one has no right to chastise the +impudence of the honest man. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>270.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Eternal Child.</hi>—We think, short-sighted +that we are, that fairy-tales and games belong to +childhood. As if at any age we should care to live +without fairy-tales and games! Our words and +sentiments are indeed different, but the essential +fact remains the same, as is proved by the child +himself looking on games as his work and fairy-tales +as his truth. The shortness of life ought to +preserve us from a pedantic distinction between the +different ages—as if every age brought something +new—and a poet ought one day to portray a man +of two hundred, who really lives without fairy-tales +and games. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>271.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Every Philosophy is the Philosophy of a +Period of Life.</hi>—The period of life in which a +philosopher finds his teaching is manifested by his +<pb n='136'/><anchor id='Pg136'/> +teaching; he cannot avoid that, however elevated +above time and hour he may feel himself. Thus, +Schopenhauer's philosophy remains a mirror of his +hot and melancholy youth—it is no mode of thought +for older men. Plato's philosophy reminds one of +the middle thirties, when a warm and a cold current +generally rush together, so that spray and delicate +clouds and, under favourable circumstances and +glimpses of sunshine, enchanting rainbow-pictures +result. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>272.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Of the Intellect of Women.</hi>—The intellectual +strength of a woman is best proved by the +fact that she offers her own intellect as a sacrifice +out of love for a man and his intellect, and that +nevertheless in the new domain, which was previously +foreign to her nature, a second intellect at once +arises as an aftergrowth, to which the man's mind +impels her. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>273.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Raising and Lowering in the Sexual +Domain.</hi>—The storm of desire will sometimes +carry a man up to a height where all desire is +silenced, where he really loves and lives in a better +state of being rather than in a better state of choice. +On the other hand, a good woman, from true love, +often climbs down to desire, and lowers herself in +her own eyes. The latter action in particular is one +of the most pathetic sensations which the idea of a +good marriage can involve. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='137'/><anchor id='Pg137'/> + +<div> +<head>274.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Man Promises, Woman Fulfils.</hi>—By woman +Nature shows how far she has hitherto achieved her +task of fashioning humanity, by man she shows +what she has had to overcome and what she still +proposes to do for humanity.—The most perfect +woman of every age is the holiday-task of the +Creator on every seventh day of culture, the recreation +of the artist from his work. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>275.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Transplanting.</hi>—If we have spent our intellect +in order to gain mastery over the intemperance of +the passions, the sad result often follows that we +transfer the intemperance to the intellect, and from +that time forth are extravagant in thought and desire +of knowledge. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>276.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Laughter as Treachery.</hi>—How and when a +woman laughs is a sign of her culture, but in the ring +of laughter her nature reveals itself, and in highly +cultured women perhaps even the last insoluble +residue of their nature. Hence the psychologist +will say with Horace, though from different reasons: +<q>Ridete puellae.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>277.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>From the Youthful Soul.</hi>—Youths varyingly +show devotion and impudence towards the same +person, because at bottom they only despise or admire +themselves in that other person, and between +<pb n='138'/><anchor id='Pg138'/> +the two feelings but stagger to and fro in themselves, +so long as they have not found in experience +the measure of their will and ability. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>278.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>For the Amelioration of the World.</hi>—If +we forbade the discontented, the sullen, and the +atrabilious to propagate, we might transform the +world into a garden of happiness.—This aphorism +belongs to a practical philosophy for the female sex. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>279.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Not to Distrust your Emotions.</hi>—The +feminine phrase <q>Do not distrust your emotions</q> +does not mean much more than <q>Eat what tastes +good to you.</q> This may also, especially for moderate +natures, be a good everyday rule. But other +natures must live according to another maxim: +<q>You must eat not only with your mouth but also +with your brain, in order that the greediness of +your mouth may not prove your undoing.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>280.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Cruel Fancy of Love.</hi>—Every great love +involves the cruel thought of killing the object of +love, so that it may be removed once for all from +the mischievous play of change. For love is more +afraid of change than of destruction. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>281.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Doors.</hi>—In everything that is learnt or experienced, +the child, just like the man, sees doors; +<pb n='139'/><anchor id='Pg139'/> +but for the former they are places to go <emph>to</emph>, for the +latter to go <emph>through</emph>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>282.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Sympathetic Women.</hi>—The sympathy of +women, which is talkative, takes the sick-bed to +market. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>283.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Early Merit.</hi>—He who acquires merit early in +life tends to forget all reverence for age and old +people, and accordingly, greatly to his disadvantage, +excludes himself from the society of the mature, +those who confer maturity. Thus in spite of his +early merit he remains green, importunate, and +boyish longer than others. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>284.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Souls All of a Piece.</hi>—Women and artists +think that where we do not contradict them we cannot. +Reverence on ten counts and silent disapproval +on ten others appears to them an impossible +combination, because their souls are all of a piece. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>285.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Young Talents.</hi>—With respect to young talents +we must strictly follow Goethe's maxim, that we +should often avoid harming error in order to avoid +harming truth. Their condition is like the diseases +of pregnancy, and involves strange appetites. These +appetites should be satisfied and humoured as far +as possible, for the sake of the fruit they may be expected +to produce. It is true that, as nurse of these +<pb n='140'/><anchor id='Pg140'/> +remarkable invalids, one must learn the difficult +art of voluntary self-abasement. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>286.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Disgust with Truth.</hi>—Women are so constituted +that all truth (in relation to men, love, children, +society, aim of life) disgusts them—and that +they try to be revenged on every one who opens +their eyes. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>287.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Source of Great Love.</hi>—Whence arises +the sudden passion of a man for a woman, a passion +so deep, so vital? Least of all from sensuality only: +but when a man finds weakness, need of help, and +high spirits united in the same creature, he suffers +a sort of overflowing of soul, and is touched and +offended at the same moment. At this point arises +the source of great love. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>288.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Cleanliness.</hi>—In the child, the sense for cleanliness +should be fanned into a passion, and then +later on he will raise himself, in ever new phases, +to almost every virtue, and will finally appear, in +compensation for all talent, as a shining cloud of +purity, temperance, gentleness, and character, happy +in himself and spreading happiness around. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>289.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Of Vain Old Men.</hi>—Profundity of thought +belongs to youth, clarity of thought to old age. +<pb n='141'/><anchor id='Pg141'/> +When, in spite of this, old men sometimes speak +and write in the manner of the profound, they do so +from vanity, imagining that they thereby assume +the charm of juvenility, enthusiasm, growth, apprehensiveness, +hopefulness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>290.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Enjoyment of Novelty.</hi>—Men use a new lesson +or experience later on as a ploughshare or perhaps +also as a weapon, women at once make it into an +ornament. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>291.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How both Sexes behave when in the Right.</hi>—If +it is conceded to a woman that she is right, +she cannot deny herself the triumph of setting her +heel on the neck of the vanquished; she must taste +her victory to the full. On the other hand, man +towards man in such a case is ashamed of being +right. But then man is accustomed to victory; with +woman it is an exception. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>292.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Abnegation in the Will to Beauty.</hi>—In +order to become beautiful, a woman must not desire +to be considered pretty. That is to say, in ninety-nine +out of a hundred cases where she could please +she must scorn and put aside all thoughts of pleasing. +Only then can she ever reap the delight of +him whose soul's portal is wide enough to admit +the great. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>293.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Unintelligible, Unendurable.</hi>—A youth +cannot understand that an old man has also had +<pb n='142'/><anchor id='Pg142'/> +his delights, his dawns of feeling, his changings and +soarings of thought. It offends him to think that +such things have existed before. But it makes him +very bitter to hear that, to become fruitful, he must +lose those buds and dispense with their fragrance. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>294.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Party with the Air of Martyrdom.</hi>—Every +party that can assume an air of martyrdom +wins good-natured souls over to its side and thereby +itself acquires an air of good nature—greatly to its +advantage. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>295.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Assertions surer than Arguments.</hi>—An +assertion has, with the majority of men at any +rate, more effect than an argument, for arguments +provoke mistrust. Hence demagogues seek to +strengthen the arguments of their party by assertions. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>296.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Best Concealers.</hi>—All regularly successful +men are profoundly cunning in making their +faults and weaknesses look like manifestations of +strength. This proves that they must know their +defects uncommonly well. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>297.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>From Time to Time.</hi>—He sat in the city gateway +and said to one who passed through that this +was the city gate. The latter replied that this was +true, but that one must not be too much in the +<pb n='143'/><anchor id='Pg143'/> +right if one expected to be thanked for it. <q>Oh,</q> +answered the other, <q>I don't want thanks, but from +time to time it is very pleasant not merely to be in +the right but to remain in the right.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>298.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Virtue was not Invented by the Germans.</hi>—Goethe's +nobleness and freedom from envy, Beethoven's +fine hermitical resignation, Mozart's cheerfulness +and grace of heart, Handel's unbending +manliness and freedom under the law, Bach's confident +and luminous inner life, such as does not +even need to renounce glamour and success—are +these qualities peculiarly German?—If they are not, +they at least prove to what goal Germans should +strive and to what they can attain. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>299.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><hi rend='italic'>Pia Fraus</hi> or Something Else.</hi>—I hope I am +mistaken, but I think that in Germany of to-day a +twofold sort of hypocrisy is set up as the duty of the +moment for every one. From imperial-political misgivings +Germanism is demanded, and from social +apprehensions Christianity—but both only in words +and gestures, and particularly in ability to keep silent. +It is the veneer that nowadays costs so much and is +paid for so highly; and for the benefit of the spectators +the face of the nation assumes German and +Christian wrinkles. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>300.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How far even in the Good the Half may +be More than the Whole.</hi>—In all things that +<pb n='144'/><anchor id='Pg144'/> +are constructed to last and demand the service of +many hands, much that is less good must be made +a rule, although the organiser knows what is better +and harder very well. He will calculate that there +will never be a lack of persons who <emph>can</emph> correspond +to the rule, and he knows that the middling good is +the rule.—The youth seldom sees this point, and as +an innovator thinks how marvellously he is in the +right and how strange is the blindness of others. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>301.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Partisan.</hi>—The true partisan learns nothing +more, he only experiences and judges. It is +significant that Solon, who was never a partisan but +pursued his aims above and apart from parties or +even against them, was the father of that simple +phrase wherein lies the secret of the health and +vitality of Athens: <q>I grow old, but I am always +learning.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>302.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>What is German according to Goethe.</hi>—They +are really intolerable people of whom one +cannot even accept the good, who have freedom of +disposition but do not remark that they are lacking +in freedom of taste and spirit. Yet just this, according +to Goethe's well-weighed judgment, is German.—His +voice and his example indicate that the German +should be more than a German if he wishes to be +useful or even endurable to other nations—and +which direction his striving should take, in order +that he may rise above and beyond himself. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='145'/><anchor id='Pg145'/> + +<div> +<head>303.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>When it is Necessary to Remain Stationary.</hi>—When +the masses begin to rage, and reason +is under a cloud, it is a good thing, if the health of +one's soul is not quite assured, to go under a doorway +and look out to see what the weather is like. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>304.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Revolution-Spirit and the Possession-Spirit.</hi>—The +only remedy against Socialism +that still lies in your power is to avoid provoking +Socialism—in other words, to live in moderation and +contentment, to prevent as far as possible all lavish +display, and to aid the State as far as possible in its +taxing of all superfluities and luxuries. You do not +like this remedy? Then, you rich bourgeois who +call yourselves <q>Liberals,</q> confess that it is your own +inclination that you find so terrible and menacing +in Socialists, but allow to prevail in yourselves as +unavoidable, as if with you it were something +different. As you are constituted, if you had not +your fortune and the cares of maintaining it, this +bent of yours would make Socialists of you. Possession +alone differentiates you from them. If you +wish to conquer the assailants of your prosperity, +you must first conquer yourselves.—And if that +prosperity only meant well-being, it would not be +so external and provocative of envy; it would be +more generous, more benevolent, more compensatory, +more helpful. But the spurious, histrionic element in +your pleasures, which lie more in the feeling of contrast +(because others have them not, and feel envious) +<pb n='146'/><anchor id='Pg146'/> +than in feelings of realised and heightened power—your +houses, dresses, carriages, shops, the demands +of your palates and your tables, your noisy operatic +and musical enthusiasm; lastly your women, formed +and fashioned but of base metal, gilded but without +the ring of gold, chosen by you for show and +considering themselves meant for show—these are +the things that spread the poison of that national +disease, which seizes the masses ever more and more +as a Socialistic heart-itch, but has its origin and +breeding-place in you. Who shall now arrest this +epidemic? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>305.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Party Tactics.</hi>—When a party observes that a +previous member has changed from an unqualified +to a qualified adherent, it endures it so ill that +it irritates and mortifies him in every possible way +with the object of forcing him to a decisive break +and making him an opponent. For the party suspects +that the intention of finding a relative value +in its faith, a value which admits of pro and con, of +weighing and discarding, is more dangerous than +downright opposition. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>306.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>For the Strengthening of Parties.</hi>—Whoever +wishes to strengthen a party internally should +give it an opportunity of being forcibly treated +with obvious injustice. The party thus acquires a +capital of good conscience, which hitherto it perhaps +lacked. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='147'/><anchor id='Pg147'/> + +<div> +<head>307.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To Provide for One's Past.</hi>—As men after +all only respect the old-established and slowly +developed, he who would survive after his death +must not only provide for posterity but still more +for the past. Hence tyrants of every sort (including +tyrannical artists and politicians) like to do violence +to history, so that history may seem a preparation +and a ladder up to them. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>308.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Party Writers.</hi>—The beating of drums, which +delights young writers who serve a party, sounds +to him who does not belong to the party like a +rattling of chains, and excites sympathy rather than +admiration. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>309.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Taking Sides against Ourselves.</hi>—Our +followers never forgive us for taking sides against +ourselves, for we seem in their eyes not only to be +spurning their love but to be exposing them to the +charge of lack of intelligence. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>310.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Danger in Wealth.</hi>—Only a man of intellect +should hold property: otherwise property is dangerous +to the community. For the owner, not knowing +how to make use of the leisure which his possessions +might secure to him, will continue to strive after +more property. This strife will be his occupation, +his strategy in the war with ennui. So in the end +<pb n='148'/><anchor id='Pg148'/> +real wealth is produced from the moderate property +that would be enough for an intellectual man. Such +wealth, then, is the glittering outcrop of intellectual +dependence and poverty, but it looks quite different +from what its humble origin might lead one to expect, +because it can mask itself with culture and art—it +can, in fact, purchase the mask. Hence it excites +envy in the poor and uncultured—who at bottom +always envy culture and see no mask in the mask—and +gradually paves the way for a social revolution. +For a gilded coarseness and a histrionic blowing of +trumpets in the pretended enjoyment of culture +inspires that class with the thought, <q>It is only a +matter of money,</q> whereas it is indeed to some extent +a matter of money, but far more of intellect. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>311.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Joy in Commanding and Obeying.</hi>—Commanding +is a joy, like obeying; the former when it +has not yet become a habit, the latter just when it +has become a habit. Old servants under new +masters advance each other mutually in giving +pleasure. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>312.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Ambition for a Forlorn Hope.</hi>—There is an +ambition for a forlorn hope which forces a party to +place itself at the post of extreme danger. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>313.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>When Asses are Needed.</hi>—We shall not move +the crowd to cry <q>Hosanna!</q> until we have ridden +into the city upon an ass. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='149'/><anchor id='Pg149'/> + +<div> +<head>314.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Party Usage.</hi>—Every party attempts to represent +the important elements that have sprung up +outside it as unimportant, and if it does not succeed, +it attacks those elements the more bitterly, the more +excellent they are. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>315.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Becoming Empty.</hi>—Of him who abandons himself +to the course of events, a smaller and smaller +residue is continually left. Great politicians may +therefore become quite empty men, although they +were once full and rich. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>316.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Welcome Enemies.</hi>—The Socialistic movements +are nowadays becoming more and more +agreeable rather than terrifying to the dynastic +governments, because by these movements they are +provided with a right and a weapon for making exceptional +rules, and can thus attack their real bogies, +democrats and anti-dynasts.—Towards all that such +governments professedly detest they feel a secret +cordiality and inclination. But they are compelled +to draw the veil over their soul. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>317.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Possession Possesses.</hi>—Only up to a certain +point does possession make men feel freer and more +independent; one step farther, and possession becomes +lord, the possessor a slave. The latter must +<pb n='150'/><anchor id='Pg150'/> +sacrifice his time, his thoughts to the former, and +feels himself compelled to an intercourse, nailed to +a spot, incorporated with the State—perhaps quite +in conflict with his real and essential needs. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>318.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Of the Mastery of Them that Know.</hi>—It +is easy, ridiculously easy, to set up a model for the +choice of a legislative body. First of all the honest +and reliable men of the nation, who at the same +time are masters and experts in some one branch, +have to become prominent by mutual scenting-out +and recognition. From these, by a narrower process +of selection, the learned and expert of the first rank +in each individual branch must again be chosen, also +by mutual recognition and guarantee. If the legislative +body be composed of these, it will finally be +necessary, in each individual case, that only the +voices and judgments of the most specialised experts +should decide; the honesty of all the rest +should have become so great that it is simply a +matter of decency to leave the voting also in the +hands of these men. The result would be that +the law, in the strictest sense, would emanate from +the intelligence of the most intelligent.—As things +now are, voting is done by parties, and at every +division there must be hundreds of uneasy consciences +among the ill-taught, the incapable of judgment, +among those who merely repeat, imitate, and +go with the tide. Nothing lowers the dignity of +a new law so much as this inherent shamefaced +feeling of insincerity that necessarily results at every +<pb n='151'/><anchor id='Pg151'/> +party division. But, as has been said, it is easy, +ridiculously easy, to set up such a model: no power +on earth is at present strong enough to realise such +an ideal—unless the belief in the highest utility of +knowledge, and of those that know, at last dawns +even upon the most hostile minds and is preferred +to the prevalent belief in majorities. In the sense +of such a future may our watchword be: <q>More +reverence for them that know, and down with all +parties!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>319.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Of the <q>Nation of Thinkers</q> (or of Bad +Thinking</hi>).—The vague, vacillating, premonitory, +elementary, intuitive elements—to choose obscure +names for obscure things—that are attributed to the +German nature would be, if they really still existed, +a proof that our culture has remained several stages +behind and is still surrounded by the spell and +atmosphere of the Middle Ages.—It is true that in +this backwardness there are certain advantages: by +these qualities the Germans (if, as has been said +before, they still possess them) would possess the +capacity, which other nations have now lost, for +doing certain things and particularly for understanding +certain things. Much undoubtedly is lost +if the lack of sense—which is just the common +factor in all those qualities—is lost. Here too, however, +there are no losses without the highest compensatory +gains, so that no reason is left for +lamenting, granting that we do not, like children, +and gourmands, wish to enjoy at once the fruits of +all seasons of the year. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='152'/><anchor id='Pg152'/> + +<div> +<head>320.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Carrying Coals to Newcastle.</hi>—The governments +of the great States have two instruments for +keeping the people dependent, in fear and obedience: +a coarser, the army, and a more refined, the school. +With the aid of the former they win over to their +side the ambition of the higher strata and the +strength of the lower, so far as both are characteristic +of active and energetic men of moderate or +inferior gifts. With the aid of the latter they win +over gifted poverty, especially the intellectually pretentious +semi-poverty of the middle classes. Above +all, they make teachers of all grades into an intellectual +court looking unconsciously <q>towards the +heights.</q> By putting obstacle after obstacle in the +way of private schools and the wholly distasteful +individual tuition they secure the disposal of a +considerable number of educational posts, towards +which numerous hungry and submissive eyes are +turned to an extent five times as great as can ever +be satisfied. These posts, however, must support +the holder but meagrely, so that he maintains a +feverish thirst for promotion and becomes still more +closely attached to the views of the government. +For it is always more advantageous to foster +moderate discontent than contentment, the mother +of courage, the grandmother of free thought and +exuberance. By means of this physically and +mentally bridled body of teachers, the youth of the +country is as far as possible raised to a certain level +of culture that is useful to the State and arranged +on a suitable sliding-scale. Above all, the immature +<pb n='153'/><anchor id='Pg153'/> +and ambitious minds of all classes are almost imperceptibly +imbued with the idea that only a career +which is recognised and hall-marked by the State +can lead immediately to social distinction. The +effect of this belief in government examinations and +titles goes so far that even men who have remained +independent and have risen by trade or handicraft +still feel a pang of discontent in their hearts until +their position too is marked and acknowledged by a +gracious bestowal of rank and orders from above—until +one becomes a <q>somebody.</q> Finally the State +connects all these hundreds of offices and posts in its +hands with the obligation of being trained and hallmarked +in these State schools if one ever wishes to +enter this charmed circle. Honour in society, daily +bread, the possibility of a family, protection from +above, the feeling of community in a common +culture—all this forms a network of hopes into +which every young man walks: how should he feel +the slightest breath of mistrust? In the end, perhaps, +the obligation of being a soldier for one year +has become with every one, after the lapse of a few +generations, an unreflecting habit, an understood +thing, with an eye to which we construct the plan +of our lives quite early. Then the State can venture +on the master-stroke of weaving together school +and army, talent, ambition and strength by means +of common advantages—that is, by attracting the +more highly gifted on favourable terms to the army +and inspiring them with the military spirit of joyful +obedience; so that finally, perhaps, they become +attached permanently to the flag and endow it by +their talents with an ever new and more brilliant +<pb n='154'/><anchor id='Pg154'/> +lustre. Then nothing more is wanted but an opportunity +for great wars. These are provided from +professional reasons (and so in all innocence) by +diplomats, aided by newspapers and Stock Exchanges. +For <q>the nation,</q> as a nation of soldiers, +need never be supplied with a good conscience in +war—it has one already. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>321.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Press.</hi>—If we consider how even to-day all +great political transactions glide upon the stage +secretly and stealthily; how they are hidden by +unimportant events, and seem small when close at +hand; how they only show their far-reaching effect, +and leave the soil still quaking, long after they have +taken place;—what significance can we attach to +the Press in its present position, with its daily expenditure +of lung-power in order to bawl, to deafen, +to excite, to terrify? Is it anything more than an +everlasting false alarm, which tries to lead our ears +and our wits into a false direction? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>322.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>After a Great Event.</hi>—A nation and a man +whose soul has come to light through some great +event generally feel the immediate need of some +act of childishness or coarseness, as much from +shame as for purposes of recreation. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>323.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To be a Good German means to de-Germanise +Oneself.</hi>—National differences consist, +<pb n='155'/><anchor id='Pg155'/> +far more than has hitherto been observed, only in +the differences of various grades of culture, and are +only to a very small extent permanent (nor even +that in a strict sense). For this reason all arguments +based on national character are so little binding on +one who aims at the alteration of convictions—in +other words, at culture. If, for instance, we consider +all that has already been German, we shall improve +upon the hypothetical question, <q>What is German?</q> +by the counter-question, <q>What is <emph>now</emph> German?</q> +and every good German will answer it practically, +by overcoming his German characteristics. For +when a nation advances and grows, it bursts the +girdle previously given to it by its national outlook. +When it remains stationary or declines, its soul is +surrounded by a fresh girdle, and the crust, as it +becomes harder and harder, builds a prison around, +with walls growing ever higher. Hence if a nation +has much that is firmly established, this is a sign +that it wishes to petrify and would like to become +nothing but a monument. This happened, from a +definite date, in the case of Egypt. So he who is +well-disposed towards the Germans may for his part +consider how he may more and more grow out of +what is German. The tendency to be un-German +has therefore always been a mark of efficient members +of our nation. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>324.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Foreignisms.</hi>—A foreigner who travelled in Germany +found favour or the reverse by certain assertions +of his, according to the districts in which he +stayed. All intelligent Suabians, he used to say, +<pb n='156'/><anchor id='Pg156'/> +are coquettish.—The other Suabians still believed +that Uhland was a poet and Goethe immoral.—The +best about German novels now in vogue was that +one need not read them, for one knew already what +they contained.—The native of Berlin seemed more +good-humoured than the South German, for he was +all too fond of mocking, and so could endure +mockery himself, which the South German could +not.—The intellect of the Germans was kept down +by their beer and their newspapers: he recommended +them tea and pamphlets, of course as a +cure.—He advised us to contemplate the different +nations of worn-out Europe and see how well each +displayed some particular quality of old age, to the +delight of those who sit before the great spectacle: +how the French successfully represent the cleverness +and amiability of old age, the English the +experience and reserve, the Italians the innocence +and candour. Can the other masks of old age be +wanting? Where is the proud old man, the domineering +old man, the covetous old man?—The +most dangerous region in Germany was Saxony and +Thuringia: nowhere else was there more mental +nimbleness, more knowledge of men, side by side +with freedom of thought; and all this was so +modestly veiled by the ugly dialect and the zealous +officiousness of the inhabitants that one hardly +noticed that one here had to deal with the intellectual +drill-sergeants of Germany, her teachers for +good or evil.—The arrogance of the North Germans +was kept in check by their tendency to obey, that +of the South Germans by their tendency—to make +themselves comfortable.—It appeared to him that +<pb n='157'/><anchor id='Pg157'/> +in their women German men possessed awkward +but self-opinionated housewives, who belauded +themselves so perseveringly that they had almost +persuaded the world, and at any rate their husbands, +of their peculiarly German housewifely virtue.—When +the conversation turned on Germany's home +and foreign policy, he used to say (he called it +<q>betray the secret</q>) that Germany's greatest statesman +did not believe in great statesmen.—The future +of Germany he found menaced and menacing, for +Germans had forgotten how to enjoy themselves (an +art that the Italians understood so well), but, by the +great games of chance called wars and dynastic +revolutions, had accustomed themselves to emotionalism, +and consequently would one day have an +<foreign rend='italic'>émeute</foreign>. For that is the strongest emotion that a +nation can procure for itself.—The German Socialist +was all the more dangerous because impelled by +no definite necessity: his trouble lay in not knowing +what he wanted; so, even if he attained many of +his objects, he would still pine away from desire +in the midst of delights, just like Faust, but presumably +like a very vulgar Faust. <q>For the Faust-Devil,</q> +he finally exclaimed, <q>by whom cultured +Germans were so much plagued, was exorcised by +Bismarck; but now the Devil has entered into the +swine,<note place='foot'>Luke viii. 33.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> and is worse than ever!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>325.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Opinions.</hi>—Most men are nothing and count +for nothing until they have arrayed themselves in +<pb n='158'/><anchor id='Pg158'/> +universal convictions and public opinions. This is +in accordance with the tailors' philosophy, <q>The +apparel makes the man.</q> Of exceptional men, +however, it must be said, <q>The wearer primarily +makes the apparel.</q> Here opinions cease to be +public, and become something else than masks, +ornament, and disguise. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>326.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Two Kinds of Sobriety.</hi>—In order not to confound +the sobriety arising from mental exhaustion +with that arising from moderation, one must remark +that the former is peevish, the latter cheerful. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>327.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Debasement of Joy.</hi>—To call a thing good not +a day longer than it appears to us good, and above +all not a day earlier—that is the only way to keep +joy pure. Otherwise, joy all too easily becomes insipid +and rotten to the taste, and counts, for whole +strata of the people, among the adulterated foodstuffs. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>328.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Scapegoat of Virtue.</hi>—When a man +does his very best, those who mean well towards +him, but are not capable of appreciating him, +speedily seek a scapegoat to immolate, thinking it +is the scapegoat of sin—but it is the scapegoat of +virtue. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>329.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Sovereignty.</hi>—To honour and acknowledge +even the bad, when it <emph>pleases</emph> one, and to have no +<pb n='159'/><anchor id='Pg159'/> +conception of how one could be ashamed of being +pleased thereat, is the mark of sovereignty in things +great and small. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>330.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Influence a Phantom, not a Reality.</hi>—The +man of mark gradually learns that so far as +he has influence he is a phantom in other brains, +and perhaps he falls into a state of subtle vexation +of soul, in which he asks himself whether he must +not maintain this phantom of himself for the benefit +of his fellow-men. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>331.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Giving and Taking.</hi>—When one takes away +(or anticipates) the smallest thing that another +possesses, the latter is blind to the fact that he has +been given something greater, nay, even the greatest +thing. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>332.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Good Ploughland.</hi>—All rejection and negation +betoken a deficiency in fertility. If we were good +ploughland, we should allow nothing to be unused +or lost, and in every thing, event, or person we +should welcome manure, rain, or sunshine. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>333.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Intercourse as an Enjoyment.</hi>—If a man +renounces the world and intentionally lives in solitude, +he may come to regard intercourse with +others, which he enjoys but seldom, as a special +delicacy. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='160'/><anchor id='Pg160'/> + +<div> +<head>334.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To Know how to Suffer in Public.</hi>—We +must advertise our misfortunes and from time to +time heave audible sighs and show visible marks +of impatience. For if we could let others see how +assured and happy we are in spite of pain and +privation, how envious and ill-tempered they would +become at the sight!—But we must take care not +to corrupt our fellow-men; besides, if they knew +the truth, they would levy a heavy toll upon us. +At any rate our public misfortune is our private +advantage. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>335.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Warmth on the Heights.</hi>—On the heights +it is warmer than people in the valleys suppose, +especially in winter. The thinker recognises the full +import of this simile. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>336.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To Will the Good and be Capable of the +Beautiful.</hi>—It is not enough to practise the good +one must have willed it, and, as the poet says, include +the Godhead in our will. But the beautiful +we must not will, we must be capable of it, in innocence +and blindness, without any psychical curiosity. +He that lights his lantern to find perfect men +should remember the token by which to know +them. They are the men who always act for the +sake of the good and in so doing always attain +to the beautiful without thinking of the beautiful. +Many better and nobler men, from impotence or +from want of beauty in their souls, remain unrefreshing +<pb n='161'/><anchor id='Pg161'/> +and ugly to behold, with all their good +will and good works. They rebuff and injure even +virtue through the repulsive garb in which their +bad taste arrays her. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>337.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Danger of Renunciation.</hi>—We must beware +of basing our lives on too narrow a foundation of +appetite. For if we renounce all the joys involved +in positions, honours, associations, revels, creature +comforts, and arts, a day may come when we perceive +that this repudiation has led us not to wisdom +but to satiety of life. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>338.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Final Opinion on Opinions.</hi>—Either we +should hide our opinions or hide ourselves behind +our opinions. Whoever does otherwise, does not +know the way of the world, or belongs to the order +of pious fire-eaters. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>339.</head> + +<p> +<q><hi rend='smallcaps'><foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>Gaudeamus Igitur.</foreign></hi></q>—Joy must contain edifying +and healing forces for the moral nature of +man. Otherwise, how comes it that our soul, as +soon as it basks in the sunshine of joy, unconsciously +vows to itself, <q>I will be good!</q> <q>I will +become perfect!</q> and is at once seized by a premonition +of perfection that is like a shudder of religious +awe? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>340.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To One who is Praised.</hi>—So long as you are +praised, believe that you are not yet on your own +course but on that of another. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='162'/><anchor id='Pg162'/> + +<div> +<head>341.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Loving the Master.</hi>—The apprentice and the +master love the master in different ways. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>342.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>All-too-Beautiful and Human.</hi>—<q>Nature +is too beautiful for thee, poor mortal,</q> one often +feels. But now and then, at a profound contemplation +of all that is human, in its fulness, vigour, +tenderness, and complexity, I have felt as if I must +say, in all humility, <q>Man also is too beautiful for +the contemplation of man!</q> Nor did I mean the +moral man alone, but every one. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>343.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Real and Personal Estate.</hi>—When life has +treated us in true robber fashion, and has taken +away all that it could of honour, joys, connections, +health, and property of every kind, we perhaps discover +in the end, after the first shock, that we are +richer than before. For now we know for the first +time what is so peculiarly ours that no robber hand +can touch it, and perhaps, after all the plunder and +devastation, we come forward with the airs of a +mighty real estate owner. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>344.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Involuntarily Idealised.</hi>—The most painful +feeling that exists is finding out that we are always +taken for something higher than we really are. For +we must thereby confess to ourselves, <q>There is in +<pb n='163'/><anchor id='Pg163'/> +you some element of fraud—your speech, your expression, +your bearing, your eye, your dealings; +and this deceitful something is as necessary as your +usual honesty, but constantly destroys its effect and +its value.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>345.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Idealist and Liar.</hi>—We must not let ourselves +be tyrannised even by that finest faculty of idealising +things: otherwise, truth will one day part company +from us with the insulting remark: <q>Thou arch-liar, +what have I to do with thee?</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>346.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Being Misunderstood.</hi>—When one is misunderstood +generally, it is impossible to remove a +particular misunderstanding. This point must be +recognised, to save superfluous expenditure of energy +in self-defence. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>347.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Water-Drinker Speaks.</hi>—Go on drinking +your wine, which has refreshed you all your life—what +affair is it of yours if I have to be a water-drinker? +Are not wine and water peaceable, +brotherly elements, that can live side by side without +mutual recriminations? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>348.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>From Cannibal Country.</hi>—In solitude the +lonely man is eaten up by himself, among crowds +by the many. Choose which you prefer. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='164'/><anchor id='Pg164'/> + +<div> +<head>349.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Freezing-Point of the Will.</hi>—<q>Some +time the hour will come at last, the hour that will +envelop you in the golden cloud of painlessness; +when the soul enjoys its own weariness and, happy +in patient playing with patience, resembles the waves +of a lake, which on a quiet summer day, in the reflection +of a many-hued evening sky, sip and sip at +the shore and again are hushed—without end, without +purpose, without satiety, without need—all calm +rejoicing in change, all ebb and flow of Nature's +pulse.</q> Such is the feeling and talk of all invalids, +but if they attain that hour, a brief period of enjoyment +is followed by ennui. But this is the thawing-wind +of the frozen will, which awakes, stirs, and once +more begets desire upon desire.—Desire is a sign of +convalescence or recovery. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>350.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Disclaimed Ideal.</hi>—It happens sometimes +by an exception that a man only reaches the +highest when he disclaims his ideal. For this ideal +previously drove him onward too violently, so that +in the middle of the track he regularly got out of +breath and had to rest. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>351.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Treacherous Inclination.</hi>—It should be +regarded as a sign of an envious but aspiring man, +when he feels himself attracted by the thought that +with regard to the eminent there is but one salvation—love. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='165'/><anchor id='Pg165'/> + +<div> +<head>352.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Staircase Happiness.</hi>—Just as the wit of many +men does not keep pace with opportunity (so that +opportunity has already passed through the door +while wit still waits on the staircase outside), so +others have a kind of staircase happiness, which +walks too slowly to keep pace with swift-footed +Time. The best that it can enjoy of an experience, +of a whole span of life, falls to its share long afterwards, +often only as a weak, spicy fragrance, giving +rise to longing and sadness—as if <q>it might have +been possible</q>—some time or other—to drink one's +fill of this element: but now it is too late. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>353.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Worms.</hi>—The fact that an intellect contains a +few worms does not detract from its ripeness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>354.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Seat of Victory.</hi>—A good seat on horseback +robs an opponent of his courage, the spectator +of his heart—why attack such a man? Sit like one +who has been victorious! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>355.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Danger in Admiration.</hi>—From excessive admiration +for the virtues of others one can lose the +sense of one's own, and finally, through lack of practice, +lose these virtues themselves, without retaining +the alien virtues as compensation. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='166'/><anchor id='Pg166'/> + +<div> +<head>356.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Uses of Sickliness.</hi>—He who is often ill not +only has a far greater pleasure in health, on account +of his so often getting well, but acquires a very keen +sense of what is healthy or sickly in actions and +achievements, both his own and others'. Thus, for +example, it is just the writers of uncertain health—among +whom, unfortunately, nearly all great writers +must be classed—who are wont to have a far more +even and assured tone of health in their writings, +because they are better versed than are the physically +robust in the philosophy of psychical health +and convalescence and in their teachers—morning, +sunshine, forest, and fountain. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>357.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Disloyalty a Condition of Mastery.</hi>—It +cannot be helped—every master has but one pupil, +and <emph>he</emph> becomes disloyal to him, for he also is destined +for mastery. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>358.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Never in Vain.</hi>—In the mountains of truth you +never climb in vain. Either you already reach a +higher point to-day, or you exercise your strength +in order to be able to climb higher to-morrow. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>359.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Through Grey Window-Panes.</hi>—Is what you +see through this window of the world so beautiful +that you do not wish to look through any other +<pb n='167'/><anchor id='Pg167'/> +window—ay, and even try to prevent others from +so doing? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>360.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Sign of Radical Changes.</hi>—When we +dream of persons long forgotten or dead, it is a +sign that we have suffered radical changes, and +that the soil on which we live has been completely +undermined. The dead rise again, and our antiquity +becomes modernity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>361.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Medicine of the Soul.</hi>—To lie still and think +little is the cheapest medicine for all diseases of +the soul, and, with the aid of good-will, becomes +pleasanter every hour that it is used. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>362.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Intellectual Order of Precedence.</hi>—You +rank far below others when you try to establish the +exception and they the rule. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>363.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Fatalist.</hi>—You must believe in fate—science +can compel you thereto. All that develops +in you out of that belief—cowardice, devotion or +loftiness, and uprightness—bears witness to the soil +in which the grain was sown, but not to the grain +itself, for from that seed anything and everything +can grow. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>364.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Reason for Much Fretfulness.</hi>—He +that prefers the beautiful to the useful in life will +<pb n='168'/><anchor id='Pg168'/> +undoubtedly, like children who prefer sweetmeats +to bread, destroy his digestion and acquire a very +fretful outlook on the world. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>365.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Excess as a Remedy.</hi>—We can make our own +talent once more acceptable to ourselves by honouring +and enjoying the opposite talent for some +time to excess.—Using excess as a remedy is one +of the more refined devices in the art of life. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>366.</head> + +<p> +<q><hi rend='smallcaps'>Will a Self.</hi></q>—Active, successful natures act, +not according to the maxim, <q>Know thyself,</q> but +as if always confronted with the command, <q>Will +a self, so you will become a self.</q>—Fate seems +always to have left them a choice. Inactive, contemplative +natures, on the other hand, reflect on +how they have chosen their self <q>once for all</q> at +their entry into life. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>367.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To Live as Far as Possible without a +Following.</hi>—How small is the importance of +followers we first grasp when we have ceased to be +the followers of our followers. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>368.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Obscuring Oneself.</hi>—We must understand +how to obscure ourselves in order to get rid of the +gnat-swarms of pestering admirers. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='169'/><anchor id='Pg169'/> + +<div> +<head>369.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Ennui.</hi>—There is an ennui of the most subtle +and cultured brains, to which the best that the +world can offer has become stale. Accustomed to +eat ever more and more recherché fare and to feel +disgust at coarser diet, they are in danger of dying +of hunger. For the very best exists but in small +quantities, and has sometimes become inaccessible +or hard as stone, so that even good teeth can no +longer bite it. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>370.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Danger in Admiration.</hi>—The admiration +of a quality or of an art may be so strong as to +deter us from aspiring to possess that quality or art. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>371.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>What is Required of Art.</hi>—One man wants +to enjoy himself by means of art, another for a time +to get out of or above himself.—To meet both requirements +there exists a twofold species of artists. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>372.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Secessions.</hi>—Whoever secedes from us offends +not us, perhaps, but certainly our adherents. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>373.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>After Death.</hi>—It is only long after the death +of a man that we find it inconceivable that he should +be missed—in the case of really great men, only after +decades. Those who are honest usually think when +<pb n='170'/><anchor id='Pg170'/> +any one dies that he is not much missed, and that +the pompous funeral oration is a piece of hypocrisy. +Necessity first teaches the necessariness of an individual, +and the proper epitaph is a belated sigh. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>374.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Leaving in Hades.</hi>—We must leave many +things in the Hades of half-conscious feeling, and +not try to release them from their shadow-existence, +or else they will become, as thoughts and words, our +demoniacal tyrants, with cruel lust after our blood. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>375.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Near to Beggary.</hi>—Even the richest intellect +sometimes mislays the key to the room in which his +hoarded treasures repose. He is then like the poorest +of the poor, who must beg to get a living. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>376.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Chain-Thinkers.</hi>—To him who has thought a +great deal, every new thought that he hears or reads +at once assumes the form of a chain. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>377.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pity.</hi>—In the gilded sheath of pity is sometimes +hidden the dagger of envy. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>378.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>What is Genius?</hi>—To aspire to a lofty aim and +to will the means to that aim. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='171'/><anchor id='Pg171'/> + +<div> +<head>379.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Vanity of Combatants.</hi>—He who has no hope +of victory in a combat, or who is obviously worsted, +is all the more desirous that his style of fighting +should be admired. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>380.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Philosophic Life Misinterpreted.</hi>—At +the moment when one is beginning to take philosophy +seriously, the whole world fancies that one is +doing the reverse. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>381.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Imitation.</hi>—By imitation, the bad gains, the +good loses credit—especially in art. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>382.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Final Teaching of History.</hi>—<q>Oh that I had +but lived in those times!</q> is the exclamation of +foolish and frivolous men. At every period of +history that we seriously review, even if it be the +most belauded era of the past, we shall rather cry +out at the end, <q>Anything but a return to that! +The spirit of that age would oppress you with the +weight of a hundred atmospheres, the good and +beautiful in it you would not enjoy, its evil you +could not digest.</q> Depend upon it, posterity will +pass the same verdict on our own epoch, and say +that it was unbearable, that life under such conditions +was intolerable. <q>And yet every one can +endure his own times?</q> Yes, because the spirit of +<pb n='172'/><anchor id='Pg172'/> +his age not only lies <emph>upon</emph> him but is <emph>in</emph> him. The +spirit of the age offers resistance to itself and can +bear itself. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>383.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Greatness as a Mask.</hi>—By greatness in our +comportment we embitter our foes; by envy that we +do not conceal we almost reconcile them to us. For +envy levels and makes equal; it is an unconscious, +plaintive variety of modesty.—It may be indeed that +here and there, for the sake of the above-named +advantage, envy has been assumed as a mask by +those who are not envious. Certainly, however, +greatness in comportment is often used as the mask +of envy by ambitious men who would rather suffer +drawbacks and embitter their foes than let it be seen +that they place them on an equal footing with themselves. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>384.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Unpardonable.</hi>—You gave him an opportunity +of displaying the greatness of his character, and he +did not make use of the opportunity. He will never +forgive you for that. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>385.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Contrasts.</hi>—The most senile thought ever conceived +about men lies in the famous saying, <q>The +ego is always hateful,</q> the most childish in the still +more famous saying, <q>Love thy neighbour as thyself.</q>—With +the one knowledge of men has ceased, +with the other it has not yet begun. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='173'/><anchor id='Pg173'/> + +<div> +<head>386.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Defective Ear.</hi>—<q>We still belong to the +mob so long as we always shift the blame on to +others; we are on the track of wisdom when we +always make ourselves alone responsible; but the +wise man finds no one to blame, neither himself nor +others.</q>—Who said that? Epictetus, eighteen hundred +years ago.—The world has heard but forgotten +the saying.—No, the world has not heard and not +forgotten it: everything is not forgotten. But we +had not the necessary ear, the ear of Epictetus.—So +he whispered it into his own ear?—Even so: wisdom +is the whispering of the sage to himself in the +crowded market-place. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>387.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Defect of Standpoint, not of Vision.</hi>—We +always stand a few paces too near ourselves +and a few paces too far from our neighbour. Hence +we judge him too much in the lump, and ourselves +too much by individual, occasional, insignificant +features and circumstances. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>388.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Ignorance about Weapons.</hi>—How little we +care whether another knows a subject or not!—whereas +he perhaps sweats blood at the bare idea +that he may be considered ignorant on the point. +Yes, there are exquisite fools, who always go about +with a quiverful of mighty, excommunicatory utterances, +ready to shoot down any one who shows +freely that there are matters in which their judgment +is not taken into account. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='174'/><anchor id='Pg174'/> + +<div> +<head>389.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>At the Drinking-Table of Experience.</hi>—People +whose innate moderation leads them to +drink but the half of every glass, will not admit +that everything in the world has its lees and sediment. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>390.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Singing-Birds.</hi>—The followers of a great man +often put their own eyes out, so that they may be +the better able to sing his praise. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>391.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Beyond our Ken.</hi>—The good generally displeases +us when it is beyond our ken. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>392.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Rule as Mother or as Child.</hi>—There is one +condition that gives birth to rules, another to which +rules give birth. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>393.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Comedy.</hi>—We sometimes earn honour or love +for actions and achievements which we have long +since sloughed as the snake sloughs his skin. We +are hereby easily seduced into becoming the comic +actors of our own past, and into throwing the old +skin once more about our shoulders—and that not +merely from vanity, but from good-will towards our +admirers. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>394.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Mistake of Biographers.</hi>—The small force +that is required to launch a boat into the stream +<pb n='175'/><anchor id='Pg175'/> +must not be confounded with the force of the +stream that carries the boat along. Yet this mistake +is made in nearly all biographies. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>395.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Not Buying too Dear.</hi>—The things that we +buy too dear we generally turn to bad use, because +we have no love for them but only a painful recollection. +Thus they involve a twofold drawback. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>396.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Philosophy that Society always +Needs.</hi>—The pillars of the social structure rest +upon the fundamental fact that every one cheerfully +contemplates all that he is, does, and attempts, +his sickness or health, his poverty or affluence, his +honour or insignificance, and says to himself, +<q>After all, I would not change places with any +one!</q>—Whoever wishes to add a stone to the +social structure should always try to implant in +mankind this cheerful philosophy of contentment +and refusal to change places. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>397.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Mark of a Noble Soul.</hi>—A noble soul +is not that which is capable of the highest flights, +but that which rises little and falls little, living +always in a free and bright atmosphere and altitude. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>398.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Greatness and its Contemplator.</hi>—The +noblest effect of greatness is that it gives the contemplator +<pb n='176'/><anchor id='Pg176'/> +a power of vision that magnifies and embellishes. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>399.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Being Satisfied.</hi>—We show that we have +attained maturity of understanding when we no +longer go where rare flowers lurk under the thorniest +hedges of knowledge, but are satisfied with gardens, +forests, meadows, and ploughlands, remembering +that life is too short for the rare and uncommon. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>400.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Advantage in Privation.</hi>—He who always +lives in the warmth and fulness of the heart, and, +as it were, in the summer air of the soul, cannot form +an idea of that fearful delight which seizes more +wintry natures, who for once in a way are kissed +by the rays of love and the milder breath of a +sunny February day. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>401.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Recipe for the Sufferer.</hi>—You find the +burden of life too heavy? Then you must increase +the burden of your life. When the sufferer finally +thirsts after and seeks the river of Lethe, then he +must become a <emph>hero</emph> to be certain of finding it. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>402.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Judge.</hi>—He who has seen another's ideal +becomes his inexorable judge, and as it were his +evil conscience. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>403.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Utility of Great Renunciation.</hi>—The +useful thing about great renunciation is that it invests +<pb n='177'/><anchor id='Pg177'/> +us with that youthful pride through which we +can thenceforth easily demand of ourselves small +renunciations. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>404.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How Duty Acquires a Glamour.</hi>—You can +change a brazen duty into gold in the eyes of all +by always performing something more than you +have promised. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>405.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Prayer to Mankind.</hi>—<q>Forgive us our virtues</q>—so +should we pray to mankind. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>406.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>They that Create and They that Enjoy.</hi>—Every +one who enjoys thinks that the principal +thing to the tree is the fruit, but in point of fact +the principal thing to it is the seed.—Herein lies +the difference between them that create and them +that enjoy. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>407.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Glory of all Great Men.</hi>—What is the +use of genius if it does not invest him who contemplates +and reveres it with such freedom and loftiness +of feeling that he no longer has need of genius?—To +make themselves superfluous is the glory of +all great men. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>408.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Journey to Hades.</hi>—I too have been in +the underworld, even as Odysseus, and I shall often +be there again. Not sheep alone have I sacrificed, +<pb n='178'/><anchor id='Pg178'/> +that I might be able to converse with a few dead +souls, but not even my own blood have I spared. +There were four pairs who responded to me in my +sacrifice: Epicurus and Montaigne, Goethe and +Spinoza, Plato and Rousseau, Pascal and Schopenhauer. +With them I have to come to terms. When +I have long wandered alone, I will let them prove +me right or wrong; to them will I listen, if they +prove each other right or wrong. In all that I say, +conclude, or think out for myself and others, I +fasten my eyes on those eight and see their eyes +fastened on mine.—May the living forgive me if I +look upon them at times as shadows, so pale and +fretful, so restless and, alas! so eager for life. Those +eight, on the other hand, seem to me so living that +I feel as if even now, after their death, they could +never become weary of life. But eternal vigour of +life is the important point: what matters <q>eternal +life,</q> or indeed life at all? +</p> + +</div> + +</div> + +<pb n='181'/><anchor id='Pg181'/> + +<div rend='page-break-before: always'> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Part II. The Wanderer And His Shadow.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Shadow</hi>: It is so long since I heard you +speak that I should like to give you an opportunity +of talking. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer</hi>: I hear a voice—where? whose? +I almost fancied that I heard myself speaking, but +with a voice yet weaker than my own. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Shadow</hi> (after a pause): Are you not glad +to have an opportunity of speaking? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer</hi>: By God and everything else in +which I disbelieve, it is my shadow that speaks. I +hear it, but I do not believe it. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Shadow</hi>: Let us assume that it exists, and +think no more about it. In another hour all will be +over. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer</hi>: That is just what I thought +when in a forest near Pisa I saw first two and then +five camels. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Shadow</hi>: It is all the better if we are both +equally forbearing towards each other when for once +our reason is silent. Thus we shall avoid losing our +tempers in conversation, and shall not at once apply +mutual thumb-screws in the event of any word +sounding for once unintelligible to us. If one does +not know exactly how to answer, it is enough to +<pb n='182'/><anchor id='Pg182'/> +say <emph>something</emph>. Those are the reasonable terms on +which I hold conversation with any person. During +a long talk the wisest of men becomes a fool once +and a simpleton thrice. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer</hi>: Your moderation is not flattering +to those to whom you confess it. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Shadow</hi>: Am I, then, to flatter? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer</hi>: I thought a man's shadow was +his vanity. Surely vanity would never say, <q>Am +I, then, to flatter?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Shadow</hi>: Nor does human vanity, so far as +I am acquainted with it, ask, as I have done twice, +whether it may speak. It simply speaks. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer</hi>: Now I see for the first time how +rude I am to you, my beloved shadow. I have not +said a word of my supreme <emph>delight</emph> in hearing and +not merely seeing you. You must know that I love +shadows even as I love light. For the existence of +beauty of face, clearness of speech, kindliness and +firmness of character, the shadow is as necessary +as the light. They are not opponents—rather do +they hold each other's hands like good friends; and +when the light vanishes, the shadow glides after it. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Shadow</hi>: Yes, and I hate the same thing +that you hate—night. I love men because they are +votaries of life. I rejoice in the gleam of their eyes +when they recognise and discover, they who never +weary of recognising and discovering. That +shadow which all things cast when the sunshine +of knowledge falls upon them—that shadow too +am I. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer</hi>: I think I understand you, although +you have expressed yourself in somewhat +<pb n='183'/><anchor id='Pg183'/> +shadowy terms. You are right. Good friends give +to each other here and there, as a sign of mutual +understanding, an obscure phrase which to any third +party is meant to be a riddle. And we are good +friends, you and I. So enough of preambles! Some +few hundred questions oppress my soul, and the time +for you to answer them is perchance but short. Let +us see how we may come to an understanding as +quickly and peaceably as possible. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Shadow</hi>: But shadows are more shy than +men. You will not reveal to any man the manner +of our conversation? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer</hi>: <emph>The manner</emph> of our conversation? +Heaven preserve me from wire-drawn, literary dialogues! +If Plato had found less pleasure in spinning +them out, his readers would have found more +pleasure in Plato. A dialogue that in real life is +a source of delight, when turned into writing and +read, is a picture with nothing but false perspectives. +Everything is too long or too short.—Yet perhaps +I may reveal the <emph>points on which</emph> we have come to +an understanding? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Shadow</hi>: With that I am content. For +every one will only recognise your views once more, +and no one will think of the shadow. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer</hi>: Perhaps you are wrong, my +friend! Hitherto they have observed in my views +more of the shadow than of me. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Shadow</hi>: More of the shadow than of the +light? Is that possible? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer</hi>: Be serious, dear fool! My very +first question demands seriousness. +</p> + +<pb n='184'/><anchor id='Pg184'/> + +<div> +<head>1.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Of the Tree of Knowledge.</hi>—Probability, +but no truth; the semblance of freedom, but no freedom—these +are the two fruits by virtue of which the +tree of knowledge cannot be confounded with the +tree of life. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>2.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The World's Reason.</hi>—That the world is <emph>not</emph> +the abstract essence of an eternal reasonableness is +sufficiently proved by the fact that that <emph>bit of the +world</emph> which we know—I mean our human reason—is +none too reasonable. And if <emph>this</emph> is not eternally +and wholly wise and reasonable, the rest of the world +will not be so either. Here the conclusion <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>a minori +ad majus, a parte ad totum</foreign> holds good, and that +with decisive force. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>3.</head> + +<p> +<q><hi rend='smallcaps'>In the Beginning was.</hi></q>—To glorify the +origin—that is the metaphysical after-shoot which +sprouts again at the contemplation of history, and +absolutely makes us imagine that <emph>in the beginning</emph> of +things lies all that is most valuable and essential. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>4.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Standard for the Value of Truth.</hi>—The +difficulty of climbing mountains is no gauge of their +height. Yet in the case of science it is different!—we +are told by certain persons who wish to be considered +<q>the initiated,</q>—the difficulty in finding +<pb n='185'/><anchor id='Pg185'/> +truth is to determine the value of truth! This insane +morality originates in the idea that <q>truths</q> are +really nothing more than gymnastic appliances, with +which we have to exercise ourselves until we are +thoroughly tired. It is a morality for the athletes +and gymnasts of the intellect. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>5.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Use of Words and Reality.</hi>—There exists +a simulated contempt for all the things that mankind +actually holds most important, for all everyday +matters. For instance, we say <q>we only eat to live</q>—an +abominable <emph>lie</emph>, like that which speaks of the +procreation of children as the real purpose of all +sexual pleasure. Conversely, the reverence for <q>the +most important things</q> is hardly ever quite genuine. +The priests and metaphysicians have indeed accustomed +us to a hypocritically exaggerated <emph>use of +words</emph> regarding these matters, but they have not +altered the feeling that these most important things +are not so important as those despised <q>everyday +matters.</q> A fatal consequence of this twofold hypocrisy +is that we never make these everyday matters +(such as eating, housing, clothes, and intercourse) +the object of a constant unprejudiced and <emph>universal</emph> +reflection and revision, but, as such a process appears +degrading, we divert from them our serious intellectual +and artistic side. Hence in such matters +habit and frivolity win an easy victory over the +thoughtless, especially over inexperienced youth. +On the other hand, our continual transgressions of the +simplest laws of body and mind reduce us all, young +<pb n='186'/><anchor id='Pg186'/> +and old, to a disgraceful state of dependence and +servitude—I mean to that fundamentally superfluous +dependence upon physicians, teachers and +clergymen, whose dead-weight still lies heavy upon +the whole of society. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>6.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Earthly Infirmities and their Main Cause.</hi>—If +we look about us, we are always coming across +men who have eaten eggs all their lives without observing +that the oblong-shaped taste the best; who do +not know that a thunder-storm is beneficial to the +stomach; that perfumes are most fragrant in cold, +clear air; that our sense of taste varies in different +parts of our mouths; that every meal at which we +talk well or listen well does harm to the digestion. +If we are not satisfied with these examples of defective +powers of observation, we shall concede all +the more readily that the everyday matters are +very imperfectly seen and rarely observed by the +majority. Is this a matter of indifference?—Let us +remember, after all, that from this defect are derived +<emph>nearly all the bodily and spiritual infirmities</emph> of the +individual. Ignorance of what is good and bad for +us, in the arrangement of our mode of life, the division +of our day, the selection of our friends and the time +we devote to them, in business and leisure, commanding +and obeying, our feeling for nature and for +art, our eating, sleeping, and meditation; ignorance +and lack of keen perceptions <emph>in the smallest and most +ordinary details</emph>—this it is that makes the world <q>a +vale of tears</q> for so many. Let us not say that here +<pb n='187'/><anchor id='Pg187'/> +as everywhere the fault lies with human <emph>unreason</emph>. +Of reason there is enough and to spare, but it is +<emph>wrongly directed</emph> and <emph>artificially diverted</emph> from these +little intimate things. Priests and teachers, and the +sublime ambition of all idealists, coarser and subtler, +din it even into the child's ears that the means of +serving mankind at large depend upon altogether +different <emph>things</emph>—upon the salvation of the soul, the +service of the State, the advancement of science, or +even upon social position and property; whereas the +needs of the individual, his requirements great and +small during the twenty-four hours of the day, are +quite paltry or indifferent.—Even Socrates attacked +with all his might this arrogant neglect of the human +for the benefit of humanity, and loved to indicate by +a quotation from Homer the true sphere and conception +of all anxiety and reflection: <q>All that really +matters,</q> he said, <q>is the good and evil hap I find +at home.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>7.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Two Means of Consolation.</hi>—Epicurus, the +soul-comforter of later antiquity, said, with that marvellous +insight which to this very day is so rarely to +be found, that for the calming of the spirit the solution +of the final and ultimate theoretical problems is +by no means necessary. Hence, instead of raising a +barren and remote discussion of the final question, +whether the Gods existed, it sufficed him to say to +those who were tormented by <q>fear of the Gods</q>: +<q>If there are Gods, they do not concern themselves +with us.</q> The latter position is far stronger and +<pb n='188'/><anchor id='Pg188'/> +more favourable, for, by conceding a few points to the +other, one makes him readier to listen and to take +to heart. But as soon as he sets about proving the +opposite (that the Gods do concern themselves with +us), into what thorny jungles of error must the poor +man fall, quite of his own accord, and without any +cunning on the part of his interlocutor! The latter +must only have enough subtlety and humanity to +conceal his sympathy with this tragedy. Finally, the +other comes to feel disgust—the strongest argument +against any proposition—disgust with his own hypothesis. +He becomes cold, and goes away in the same +frame of mind as the pure atheist who says, <q>What +do the Gods matter to me? The devil take them!</q>—In +other cases, especially when a half-physical, half-moral +assumption had cast a gloom over his spirit, +Epicurus did not refute the assumption. He agreed +that it might be true, but that there was <emph>a second +assumption</emph> to explain the same phenomenon, and +that it could perhaps be maintained in other ways. +The plurality of hypotheses (for example, that concerning +the origin of conscientious scruples) suffices +even in our time to remove from the soul the shadows +that arise so easily from pondering over a hypothesis +which is isolated, merely visible, and hence overvalued +a hundredfold.—Thus whoever wishes to console the +unfortunate, the criminal, the hypochondriac, the +dying, may call to mind the two soothing suggestions +of Epicurus, which can be applied to a great number +of problems. In their simplest form they would run: +firstly, granted the thing is so, it does not concern +us; secondly, the thing may be so, but it may also +be otherwise. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='189'/><anchor id='Pg189'/> + +<div> +<head>8.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>In the Night.</hi>—So soon as night begins to fall +our sensations concerning everyday matters are +altered. There is the wind, prowling as if on forbidden +paths, whispering as if in search of something, +fretting because he cannot find it. There is +the lamplight, with its dim red glow, its weary look, +unwillingly fighting against night, a sullen slave to +wakeful man. There are the breathings of the sleeper, +with their terrible rhythm, to which an ever-recurring +care seems to blow the trumpet-melody—we do +not hear it, but when the sleeper's bosom heaves we +feel our heart-strings tighten; and when the breath +sinks and almost dies away into a deathly stillness, +we say to ourselves, <q>Rest awhile, poor troubled +spirit!</q> All living creatures bear so great a burden +that we wish them an eternal rest; night invites to +death.—If human beings were deprived of the sun +and resisted night by means of moonlight and oil-lamps, +what a philosophy would cast its veil over +them! We already see only too plainly how a +shadow is thrown over the spiritual and intellectual +nature of man by that moiety of darkness and sunlessness +that envelops life. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>9.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Origin of the Doctrine of Free Will.</hi>—Necessity +sways one man in the shape of his passions, +another as a habit of hearing and obeying, a +third as a logical conscience, a fourth as a caprice +and a mischievous delight in evasions. These four, +<pb n='190'/><anchor id='Pg190'/> +however, seek the freedom of their will at the very +point where they are most securely fettered. It is +as if the silkworm sought freedom of will in spinning. +What is the reason? Clearly this, that every one +thinks himself most free where his vitality is strongest; +hence, as I have said, now in passion, now in +duty, now in knowledge, now in caprice. A man unconsciously +imagines that where he is strong, where +he feels most thoroughly alive, the element of his +freedom must lie. He thinks of dependence and +apathy, independence and vivacity as forming inevitable +pairs.—Thus an experience that a man +has undergone in the social and political sphere is +wrongly transferred to the ultimate metaphysical +sphere. There the strong man is also the free man, +there the vivid feeling of joy and sorrow, the high +hopes, the keen desires, the powerful hates are the +attributes of the ruling, independent natures, while +the thrall and the slave live in a state of dazed +oppression.—The doctrine of free will is an invention +of the ruling classes. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>10.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Absence of Feeling of New Chains.</hi>—So +long as we do not feel that we are in some way dependent, +we consider ourselves independent—a false +conclusion that shows how proud man is, how eager +for dominion. For he hereby assumes that he would +always be sure to observe and recognise dependence +so soon as he suffered it, the preliminary hypothesis +being that he generally lives in independence, and +that, should he lose that independence for once in a +way, he would immediately detect a contrary sensation.—Suppose, +<pb n='191'/><anchor id='Pg191'/> +however, the reverse to be true—that +he is always living in a complex state of dependence, +but thinks himself free where, through long +habit, he no longer feels the weight of the chain? +He only suffers from new chains, and <q>free will</q> +really means nothing more than an absence of feeling +of new chains. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>11.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Freedom of the Will and the Isolation of +Facts.</hi>—Our ordinary inaccurate observation takes +a group of phenomena as one and calls them a fact. +Between this fact and another we imagine a vacuum, +we isolate each fact. In reality, however, the sum +of our actions and cognitions is no series of facts +and intervening vacua, but a continuous stream. +Now the belief in free will is incompatible with the +idea of a continuous, uniform, undivided, indivisible +flow. This belief presupposes that every single +action is isolated and indivisible; it is an atomic +theory as regards volition and cognition.—We misunderstand +facts as we misunderstand characters, +speaking of similar characters and similar facts, +whereas both are non-existent. Further, we bestow +praise and blame only on this false hypothesis, that +there are similar facts, that a graduated order of +species of facts exists, corresponding to a graduated +order of values. Thus we isolate not only the single +fact, but the groups of apparently equal facts (good, +evil, compassionate, envious actions, and so forth). +In both cases we are wrong.—The word and the +concept are the most obvious reason for our belief +in this isolation of groups of actions. We do not +<pb n='192'/><anchor id='Pg192'/> +merely thereby designate the things; the thought at +the back of our minds is that by the word and the +concept we can grasp the essence of the actions. +We are still constantly led astray by words and +actions, and are induced to think of things as simpler +than they are, as separate, indivisible, existing in +the absolute. Language contains a hidden philosophical +mythology, which, however careful we may +be, breaks out afresh at every moment. The belief +in free will—that is to say, in similar facts and isolated +facts—finds in language its continual apostle +and advocate. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>12.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Fundamental Errors.</hi>—A man cannot +feel any psychical pleasure or pain unless he is +swayed by one of two illusions. Either he believes +in the identity of certain facts, certain sensations, +and in that case finds spiritual pleasure and pain +in comparing present with past conditions and in +noting their similarity or difference (as is invariably +the case with recollection); or he believes in the +freedom of the will, perhaps when he reflects, <q>I +ought not to have done this,</q> <q>This might have +turned out differently,</q> and from these reflections +likewise he derives pleasure and pain. Without +the errors that are rife in every psychical pain and +pleasure, humanity would never have developed. +For the root idea of humanity is that man is free in a +world of bondage—man, the eternal wonder-worker, +whether his deeds be good or evil—man, the amazing +exception, the super-beast, the quasi-God, the +mind of creation, the indispensable, the key-word +<pb n='193'/><anchor id='Pg193'/> +to the cosmic riddle, the mighty lord of nature and +despiser of nature, the creature that calls <emph>its</emph> history +<q>the history of the world</q>! <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>Vanitas vanitatum +homo.</foreign> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>13.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Repetition.</hi>—It is an excellent thing to express +a thing consecutively in two ways, and thus provide +it with a right and a left foot. Truth can stand +indeed on one leg, but with two she will walk and +complete her journey. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>14.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Man as the Comic Actor of the World.</hi>—It +would require beings more intellectual than men +to relish to the full the humorous side of man's view +of himself as the goal of all existence and of his +serious pronouncement that he is satisfied only with +the prospect of fulfilling a world-mission. If a God +created the world, he created man to be his ape, as +a perpetual source of amusement in the midst of his +rather tedious eternities. The music of the spheres +surrounding the world would then presumably be +the mocking laughter of all the other creatures +around mankind. God in his boredom uses pain +for the tickling of his favourite animal, in order to +enjoy his proudly tragic gestures and expressions +of suffering, and, in general, the intellectual inventiveness +of the vainest of his creatures—as inventor +of this inventor. For he who invented man as a +joke had more intellect and more joy in intellect +than has man.—Even here, where our human nature +is willing to humble itself, our vanity again plays us +a trick, in that we men should like in this vanity at +<pb n='194'/><anchor id='Pg194'/> +least to be quite marvellous and incomparable. Our +uniqueness in the world! Oh, what an improbable +thing it is! Astronomers, who occasionally acquire +a horizon outside our world, give us to understand +that the drop of life on the earth is without significance +for the total character of the mighty ocean of +birth and decay; that countless stars present conditions +for the generation of life similar to those of +the earth—and yet these are but a handful in comparison +with the endless number that have never +known, or have long been cured, of the eruption of +life; that life on each of these stars, measured by +the period of its existence, has been but an instant, +a flicker, with long, long intervals afterwards—and +thus in no way the aim and final purpose of their +existence. Possibly the ant in the forest is quite +as firmly convinced that it is the aim and purpose +of the existence of the forest, as we are convinced +in our imaginations (almost unconsciously) that the +destruction of mankind involves the destruction of +the world. It is even modesty on our part to go +no farther than this, and not to arrange a universal +twilight of the world and the Gods as the funeral +ceremony of the last man. Even to the eye of +the most unbiassed astronomer a lifeless world can +scarcely appear otherwise than as a shining and +swinging star wherein man lies buried. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>15.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Modesty of Man.</hi>—How little pleasure is +enough for the majority to make them feel that life +is good! How modest is man! +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='195'/><anchor id='Pg195'/> + +<div> +<head>16.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Where Indifference is Necessary.</hi>—Nothing +would be more perverse than to wait for +the truths that science will finally establish concerning +the first and last things, and until then to +think (and especially to believe) in the traditional +way, as one is so often advised to do. The impulse +that bids us seek nothing but <emph>certainties</emph> in this +domain is a religious offshoot, nothing better—a +hidden and only apparently sceptical variety of the +<q>metaphysical need,</q> the underlying idea being +that for a long time no view of these ultimate +certainties will be obtainable, and that until then +the <q>believer</q> has the right not to trouble himself +about the whole subject. We have no need of +these certainties about the farthermost horizons in +order to live a full and efficient human life, any +more than the ant needs them in order to be a good +ant. Rather must we ascertain the origin of that +troublesome significance that we have attached to +these things for so long. For this we require the +history of ethical and religious sentiments, since it +is only under the influence of such sentiments that +these most acute problems of knowledge have become +so weighty and terrifying. Into the outermost +regions to which the mental eye can penetrate +(without ever penetrating <emph>into</emph> them), we have +smuggled such concepts as guilt and punishment +(everlasting punishment, too!). The darker those +regions, the more careless we have been. For ages +men have let their imaginations run riot where they +<pb n='196'/><anchor id='Pg196'/> +could establish nothing, and have induced posterity +to accept these fantasies as something serious and +true, with this abominable lie as their final trump-card: +that faith is worth more than knowledge. +What we need now in regard to these ultimate things +is not knowledge as against faith, but indifference +as against faith and pretended knowledge in these +matters!—Everything must lie nearer to us than +what has hitherto been preached to us as the most +important thing, I mean the questions: <q>What end +does man serve?</q> <q>What is his fate after death?</q> +<q>How does he make his peace with God?</q> and all +the rest of that bag of tricks. The problems of the +dogmatic philosophers, be they idealists, materialists, +or realists, concern us as little as do these religious +questions. They all have the same object in view—to +force us to a decision in matters where neither +faith nor knowledge is needed. It is better even +for the most ardent lover of knowledge that the +territory open to investigation and to reason should +be encircled by a belt of fog-laden, treacherous +marshland, a strip of ever watery, impenetrable, and +indeterminable country. It is just by the comparison +with the realm of darkness on the edge of +the world of knowledge that the bright, accessible +region of that world rises in value.—We must once +more become good friends of the <q>everyday matters,</q> +and not, as hitherto, despise them and look beyond +them at clouds and monsters of the night. In forests +and caverns, in marshy tracts and under dull skies, +on the lowest rungs of the ladder of culture, man +has lived for æons, and lived in poverty. There +he has learnt to despise the present, his neighbours, +<pb n='197'/><anchor id='Pg197'/> +his life, and himself, and we, the inhabitants of the +brighter fields of Nature and mind, still inherit in +our blood some taint of this contempt for everyday +matters. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>17.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Profound Interpretations.</hi>—He who has interpreted +a passage in an author <q>more profoundly</q> +than was intended, has not interpreted the author +but has obscured him. Our metaphysicians are in +the same relation, or even in a worse relation, to the +text of Nature. For, to apply their profound interpretations, +they often alter the text to suit their +purpose—or, in other words, corrupt the text. A +curious example of the corruption and obscuration +of an author's text is furnished by the ideas of +Schopenhauer on the pregnancy of women. <q>The +sign of a continuous will to life in time,</q> he says, +<q>is copulation; the sign of the light of knowledge +which is associated anew with this will and holds +the possibility of a deliverance, and that too in the +highest degree of clearness, is the renewed incarnation +of the will to life. This incarnation is betokened +by pregnancy, which is therefore frank and +open, and even proud, whereas copulation hides itself +like a criminal.</q> He declares that every woman, if +surprised in the sexual act, would be likely to die +of shame, but <q>displays her pregnancy without a +trace of shame, nay even with a sort of pride.</q> Now, +firstly, this condition cannot easily be displayed +more aggressively than it displays itself, and when +<pb n='198'/><anchor id='Pg198'/> +Schopenhauer gives prominence only to the intentional +character of the display, he is fashioning his +text to suit the interpretation. Moreover, his statement +of the universality of the phenomenon is not +true. He speaks of <q>every woman.</q> Many women, +especially the younger, often appear painfully +ashamed of their condition, even in the presence of +their nearest kinsfolk. And when women of riper +years, especially in the humbler classes, do actually +appear proud of their condition, it is because they +would give us to understand that they are still +desirable to their husbands. That a neighbour on +seeing them or a passing stranger should say or +think <q>Can it be possible?</q>—that is an alms always +acceptable to the vanity of women of low mental +capacity. In the reverse instance, to conclude from +Schopenhauer's proposition, the cleverest and most +intelligent women would tend more than any to +exult openly in their condition. For they have the +best prospect of giving birth to an intellectual +prodigy, in whom <q>the will</q> can once more +<q>negative</q> itself for the universal good. Stupid +women, on the other hand, would have every reason +to hide their pregnancy more modestly than anything +they hide.—It cannot be said that this view +corresponds to reality. Granted, however, that +Schopenhauer was right on the general principle +that women show more self-satisfaction when pregnant +than at any other time, a better explanation +than this lies to hand. One might imagine the +clucking of a hen even before she lays an egg, saying, +<q>Look! look! I shall lay an egg! I shall lay +an egg!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='199'/><anchor id='Pg199'/> + +<div> +<head>18.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Modern Diogenes.</hi>—Before we look for +man, we must have found the lantern.—Will it have +to be the Cynic's lantern? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>19.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Immoralists.</hi>—Moralists must now put up with +being rated as immoralists, because they dissect +morals. He, however, who would dissect must kill, +but only in order that we may know more, judge +better, live better, not in order that all the world +may dissect. Unfortunately, men still think that +every moralist in his every action must be a pattern +for others to imitate. They confound him with the +preacher of morality. The older moralists did not +dissect enough and preached too often, whence that +confusion and the unpleasant consequences for our +latter-day moralists are derived. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>20.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Caution against Confusion.</hi>—There are +moralists who treat the strong, noble, self-denying +attitude of such beings as the heroes of Plutarch, +or the pure, enlightened, warmth-giving state of soul +peculiar to truly good men and women, as difficult +scientific problems. They investigate the origin of +such phenomena, indicating the complex element +in the apparent simplicity, and directing their gaze +to the tangled skein of motives, the delicate web of +conceptual illusions, and the sentiments of individuals +or of groups, that are a legacy of ancient +<pb n='200'/><anchor id='Pg200'/> +days gradually increased. Such moralists are very +different from those with whom they are most +commonly confounded, from those petty minds that +do not believe at all in these modes of thought and +states of soul, and imagine their own poverty to be +hidden somewhere behind the glamour of greatness +and purity. The moralists say, <q>Here are problems,</q> +and these pitiable creatures say, <q>Here are impostors +and deceptions.</q> Thus the latter deny the existence +of the very things which the former are at pains to +explain. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>21.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Man as the Measurer.</hi>—Perhaps all human +morality had its origin in the tremendous excitement +that seized primitive man when he discovered +measure and measuring, scales and weighing (for +the word <foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Mensch</foreign> [man] means <q>the measurer</q>—he +wished to <emph>name</emph> himself after his greatest discovery!). +With these ideas they mounted into regions that +are quite beyond all measuring and weighing, but +did not appear to be so in the beginning. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>22.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Principle of Equilibrium.</hi>—The robber +and the man of power who promises to protect a +community from robbers are perhaps at bottom +beings of the same mould, save that the latter +attains his ends by other means than the former—that +is to say, through regular imposts paid to him +by the community, and no longer through forced +contributions. (The same relation exists between +<pb n='201'/><anchor id='Pg201'/> +merchant and pirate, who for a long period are one +and the same person: where the one function appears +to them inadvisable, they exercise the other. +Even to-day mercantile morality is really nothing +but a refinement on piratical morality—buying in +the cheapest market, at prime cost if possible, and +selling in the dearest.) The essential point is that +the man of power promises to maintain the equilibrium +against the robber, and herein the weak find +a possibility of living. For either they must group +themselves into an equivalent power, or they must +subject themselves to some one of equivalent power +(<hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> render service in return for his efforts). The +latter course is generally preferred, because it really +keeps two dangerous beings in check—the robber +through the man of power, and the man of power +through the standpoint of advantage; for the latter +profits by treating his subjects with graciousness +and tolerance, in order that they may support not +only themselves but their ruler. As a matter of +fact, conditions may still be hard and cruel enough, +yet in comparison with the complete annihilation +that was formerly always a possibility, men breathe +freely.—The community is at first the organisation +of the weak to counterbalance menacing forces. +An organisation to outweigh those forces would be +more advisable, if its members grew strong enough +to destroy the adverse power: and when it is a +question of one mighty oppressor, the <emph>attempt will</emph> +certainly be made. But if the one man is the head +of a clan, or if he has a large following, a rapid and +decisive annihilation is improbable, and a long or +permanent feud is only to be expected. This feud, +<pb n='202'/><anchor id='Pg202'/> +however, involves the least desirable condition for +the community, for it thereby loses the time to provide +for its means of subsistence with the necessary +regularity, and sees the product of all work hourly +threatened. Hence the community prefers to raise +its power of attack and defence to the exact plane +on which the power of its dangerous neighbour +stands, and to give him to understand that an equal +weight now lies in its own side of the scales—so +why not be good friends?—Thus equilibrium is a +most important conception for the understanding +of the ancient doctrines of law and morals. Equilibrium +is, in fact, the basis of justice. When justice +in ruder ages says, <q>An eye for an eye, a tooth +for a tooth,</q> it presupposes the attainment of this +equilibrium and tries to maintain it by means of +this compensation; so that, when crime is committed, +the injured party will not take the revenge +of blind anger. By means of the <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>jus talionis</foreign> the +equilibrium of the disturbed relations of power is +restored, for in such primitive times an eye or an +arm more means a bit more power, more weight.—In +a community where all consider themselves +equal, disgrace and punishment await crime—that +is, violations of the principle of equilibrium. Disgrace +is thrown into the scale as a counter-weight +against the encroaching individual, who has gained +profit by his encroachment, and now suffers losses +(through disgrace) which annul and outweigh the +previous profits. Punishment, in the same way, +sets up a far greater counter-weight against the preponderance +which every criminal hopes to obtain—imprisonment +as against a deed of violence, restitution +<pb n='203'/><anchor id='Pg203'/> +and fines as against theft. Thus the sinner is +reminded that his action has excluded him from the +community and from its moral advantages, since +the community treats him as an inferior, a weaker +brother, an outsider. For this reason punishment +is not merely retaliation, but has something more, +something of the cruelty of the state of nature, and +of this it would serve as a reminder. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>23.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Whether the Adherents of the Doctrine +of Free Will have a Right to Punish?</hi>—Men +whose vocation it is to judge and punish try to +establish in every case whether an evil-doer is really +responsible for his act, whether he was able to apply +his reasoning powers, whether he acted with motives +and not unconsciously or under constraint. If he is +punished, it is because he preferred the worse to the +better motives, which he must consequently have +known. Where this knowledge is wanting, man is, +according to the prevailing view, not responsible—unless +his ignorance, <hi rend='italic'>e.g.</hi> his <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>ignorantia legis</foreign>, be the +consequence of an intentional neglect to learn what +he ought: in that case he already preferred the +worse to the better motives at the time when he +refused to learn, and must now pay the penalty of +his unwise choice. If, on the other hand, perhaps +through stupidity or shortsightedness, he has never +seen the better motives, he is generally not punished, +for people say that he made a wrong choice, +he acted like a brute beast. The intentional rejection +of the better reason is now needed before we +<pb n='204'/><anchor id='Pg204'/> +treat the offender as fit to be punished. But how can +any one be intentionally more unreasonable than he +ought to be? Whence comes the decision, if the +scales are loaded with good and bad motives? So +the origin is not error or blindness, not an internal +or external constraint? (It should furthermore be +remembered that every so-called <q>external constraint</q> +is nothing more than the internal constraint +of fear and pain.) Whence? is the repeated question. +So reason is not to be the cause of action, because +reason cannot decide against the better motives? +Thus we call <q>free will</q> to our aid. Absolute +discretion is to decide, and a moment is to intervene +when no motive exercises an influence, when the +deed is done as a miracle, resulting from nothing. +This assumed discretion is punished in a case +where no discretion should rule. Reason, which +knows law, prohibition, and command, should have +left no choice, they say, and should have acted +as a constraint and a higher power. Hence the +offender is punished because he makes use of <q>free +will</q>—in other words, has acted without motive +where he should have been guided by motives. +But why did he do it? This question must not even +be asked; the deed was done without a <q>Why?</q> +without motive, without origin, being a thing purposeless, +unreasoned.—However, according to the +above-named preliminary condition of punishability, +such a deed should not be punished at all! Moreover, +even this reason for punishing should not +hold good, that in this case something had <emph>not</emph> been +done, had been omitted, that reason had not been +used at all: for at any rate the omission was unintentional, +<pb n='205'/><anchor id='Pg205'/> +and only intentional omission is considered +punishable. The offender has indeed preferred the +worse to the better motives, but without motive and +purpose: he has indeed failed to apply his reason, +but not exactly with the object of not applying it. +The very assumption made in the case of punishable +crime, that the criminal intentionally renounced +his reason, is removed by the hypothesis of <q>free +will.</q> According to your own principles, you must +not punish, you adherents of the doctrine of free +will!—These principles are, however, nothing but a +very marvellous conceptual mythology, and the hen +that hatched them has brooded on her eggs far away +from all reality. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>24.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Judging the Criminal and his Judge.</hi>—The +criminal, who knows the whole concatenation of +circumstances, does not consider his act so far +beyond the bounds of order and comprehension +as does his judge. His punishment, however, is +measured by the degree of astonishment that seizes +the judge when he finds the crime incomprehensible.—If +the defending counsel's knowledge of the case +and its previous history extends far enough, the +so-called extenuating circumstances which he duly +pleads must end by absolving his client from all +guilt. Or, to put it more plainly, the advocate +will, step by step, tone down and finally remove +the astonishment of the judge, by forcing every +honest listener to the tacit avowal, <q>He was bound +to act as he did, and if we punished, we should +be punishing eternal Necessity.</q>—Measuring the +<pb n='206'/><anchor id='Pg206'/> +punishment by the degree of knowledge we possess +or can obtain of the previous history of the crime—is +that not in conflict with all equity? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>25.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Exchange and Equity.</hi>—In an exchange, the +only just and honest course would be for either +party to demand only so much as he considers his +commodity to be worth, allowance being made for +trouble in acquisition, scarcity, time spent and so +forth, besides the subjective value. As soon as +you make your price bear a relation to the other's +need, you become a refined sort of robber and extortioner.—If +money is the sole medium of exchange, +we must remember that a shilling is by +no means the same thing in the hands of a rich +heir, a farm labourer, a merchant, and a university +student. It would be equitable for every one to +receive much or little for his money, according as +he has done much or little to earn it. In practice, +as we all know, the reverse is the case. In the +world of high finance the shilling of the idle rich +man can buy more than that of the poor, industrious +man. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>26.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Legal Conditions as Means.</hi>—Law, where it +rests upon contracts between equals, holds good +so long as the power of the parties to the contract +remains equal or similar. Wisdom created law +to end all feuds and useless expenditure among +men on an equal footing. Quite as definite an end +is put to this waste, however, when one party has +<pb n='207'/><anchor id='Pg207'/> +become decidedly weaker than the other. Subjection +enters and law ceases, but the result is the +same as that attained by law. For now it is the +wisdom of the superior which advises to spare the +inferior and not uselessly to squander his strength. +Thus the position of the inferior is often more favourable +than that of the equal.—Hence legal conditions +are temporary <emph>means</emph> counselled by wisdom, +and not ends. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>27.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Explanation of Malicious Joy.</hi>—Malicious +joy arises when a man consciously finds himself +in evil plight and feels anxiety or remorse or pain. +The misfortune that overtakes B. makes him equal +to A., and A. is reconciled and no longer envious.—If +A. is prosperous, he still hoards up in his +memory B.'s misfortune as a capital, so as to throw +it in the scale as a counter-weight when he himself +suffers adversity. In this case too he feels +<q>malicious joy</q> (<foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Schadenfreude</foreign>). The sentiment +of equality thus applies its standard to the domain +of luck and chance. Malicious joy is the commonest +expression of victory and restoration of equality, +even in a higher state of civilisation. This emotion +has only been in existence since the time when +man learnt to look upon another as his equal—in +other words, since the foundation of society. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>28.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Arbitrary Element in the Award of +Punishment.</hi>—To most criminals punishment +<pb n='208'/><anchor id='Pg208'/> +comes just as illegitimate children come to women. +They have done the same thing a hundred times +without any bad consequences. Suddenly comes +discovery, and with discovery punishment. Yet +habit should make the deed for which the +criminal is punished appear more excusable, for he +has developed a propensity that is hard to resist. +Instead of this, the criminal is punished more +severely if the suspicion of habitual crime rests on +him, and habit is made a valid reason against all +extenuation. On the other hand, a model life, +wherein crime shows up in more terrible contrast, +should make the guilt appear more heavy! But +here the custom is to soften the punishment. +Everything is measured not from the standpoint +of the criminal but from that of society and its +losses and dangers. The previous utility of an +individual is weighed against his one nefarious +action, his previous criminality is added to that +recently discovered, and punishment is thus meted +out as highly as possible. But if we thus punish or +reward a man's past (for in the former case the +diminution of punishment is a reward) we ought +to go farther back and punish and reward the +cause of his past—I mean parents, teachers, society. +In many instances we shall then find the <emph>judges</emph> +somehow or other sharing in the guilt. It is arbitrary +to stop at the criminal himself when we +punish his past: if we will not grant the absolute +excusability of every crime, we should stop at each +individual case and probe no farther into the past—in +other words, isolate guilt and not connect it +with previous actions. Otherwise we sin against +<pb n='209'/><anchor id='Pg209'/> +logic. The teachers of free will should draw the +inevitable conclusion from their doctrine of <q>free +will</q> and boldly decree: <q>No action has a past.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>29.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Envy and her Nobler Sister.</hi>—Where +equality is really recognised and permanently established, +we see the rise of that propensity that is +generally considered immoral, and would scarcely +be conceivable in a state of nature—envy. The +envious man is susceptible to every sign of individual +superiority to the common herd, and +wishes to depress every one once more to the level—or +raise himself to the superior plane. Hence +arise two different modes of action, which Hesiod +designated good and bad Eris. In the same way, +in a condition of equality there arises indignation +if A. is prosperous above and B. unfortunate beneath +their deserts and equality. These latter, however, +are emotions of nobler natures. They feel the +want of justice and equity in things that are independent +of the arbitrary choice of men—or, in +other words, they desire the equality recognised by +man to be recognised as well by Nature and +chance. They are angry that men of equal merits +should not have equal fortune. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>30.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Envy of the Gods.</hi>—<q>The envy of the +Gods</q> arises when a despised person sets himself +on an equality with his superior (like Ajax), or is +made equal with him by the favour of fortune +<pb n='210'/><anchor id='Pg210'/> +(like Niobe, the too favoured mother). In the +social class system this envy demands that no one +shall have merits above his station, that his prosperity +shall be on a level with his position, and +especially that his self-consciousness shall not outgrow +the limits of his rank. Often the victorious +general, or the pupil who achieves a masterpiece, +has experienced <q>the envy of the gods.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>31.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Vanity as an Anti-Social Aftergrowth.</hi>—As +men, for the sake of security, have made themselves +equal in order to found communities, but +as also this conception is imposed by a sort of +constraint and is entirely opposed to the instincts +of the individual, so, the more universal security is +guaranteed, the more do new offshoots of the old +instinct for predominance appear. Such offshoots +appear in the setting-up of class distinctions, in the +demand for professional dignities and privileges, +and, generally speaking, in vanity (manners, dress, +speech, and so forth). So soon as danger to the +community is apparent, the majority, who were +unable to assert their preponderance in a time of +universal peace, once more bring about the condition +of equality, and for the time being the absurd +privileges and vanities disappear. If the community, +however, collapses utterly and anarchy reigns supreme, +there arises the state of nature: an absolutely +ruthless inequality as recounted by Thucydides +in the case of Corcyra. Neither a natural +justice nor a natural injustice exists. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='211'/><anchor id='Pg211'/> + +<div> +<head>32.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Equity.</hi>—Equity is a development of justice, +and arises among such as do not come into conflict +with the communal equality. This more subtle +recognition of the principle of equilibrium is applied +to cases where nothing is prescribed by law. +Equity looks forwards and backwards, its maxim +being, <q>Do unto others as you would that they +should do unto you.</q> <foreign rend='italic'>Aequum</foreign> means: <q>This +principle is conformable to our equality; it tones +down even our small differences to an appearance +of equality, and expects us to be indulgent in +cases where we are not compelled to pardon.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>33.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Elements of Revenge.</hi>—The word <q>revenge</q> +is spoken so quickly that it almost seems as if it +could not contain more than one conceptual and +emotional root. Hence we are still at pains to find +this root. Our economists, in the same way, have +never wearied of scenting a similar unity in the +word <q>value,</q> and of hunting after the primitive root +idea of value. As if all words were not pockets, +into which this or that or several things have been +stuffed at once! So <q>revenge</q> is now one thing, +now another, and sometimes more composite. Let +us first distinguish that defensive counter-blow, +which we strike, almost unconsciously, even at inanimate +objects (such as machinery in motion) that +have hurt us. The notion is to set a check to the +object that has hurt us, by bringing the machine to +<pb n='212'/><anchor id='Pg212'/> +a stop. Sometimes the force of this counter-blow, +in order to attain its object, will have to be strong +enough to shatter the machine. If the machine be +too strong to be disorganised by one man, the latter +will all the same strike the most violent blow he can—as +a sort of last attempt. We behave similarly +towards persons who hurt us, at the immediate sensation +of the hurt. If we like to call this an act of +revenge, well and good: but we must remember that +here self-preservation alone has set its cog-wheels +of reason in motion, and that after all we do not +think of the doer of the injury but only of ourselves. +We act without any idea of doing injury in return, +only with a view to getting away safe and sound.—It +needs time to pass in thought from oneself to +one's adversary and ask oneself at what point he is +most vulnerable. This is done in the second variety +of revenge, the preliminary idea of which is to consider +the vulnerability and susceptibility of the other. +The intention then is to give pain. On the other +hand, the idea of securing himself against further +injury is in this case so entirely outside the avenger's +horizon, that he almost regularly brings about his +own further injury and often foresees it in cold +blood. If in the first sort of revenge it was the +fear of a second blow that made the counter-blow +as strong as possible, in this case there is an almost +complete indifference to what one's adversary will +do: the strength of the counter-blow is only determined +by what he has <emph>already</emph> done to us. Then +what has he done? What profit is it to us if he +is now suffering, after we have suffered through +him? This is a case of readjustment, whereas the +<pb n='213'/><anchor id='Pg213'/> +first act of revenge only serves the purpose of self-preservation. +It may be that through our adversary +we have lost property, rank, friends, children—these +losses are not recovered by revenge, the +readjustment only concerns a subsidiary loss which +is added to all the other losses. The revenge of +readjustment does not preserve one from further +injury, it does not make good the injury already +suffered—except in one case. If our honour has +suffered through our adversary, revenge can restore +it. But in any case honour <emph>has</emph> suffered an injury +if intentional harm has been done us, because our +adversary proved thereby that he was not afraid of +us. By revenge we prove that we are not afraid of +him either, and herein lies the settlement, the readjustment. +(The intention of showing their complete +lack of fear goes so far in some people that the +dangers of revenge—loss of health or life or other +losses—are in their eyes an indispensable condition +of every vengeful act. Hence they practise the duel, +although the law also offers them aid in obtaining +satisfaction for what they have suffered. They are +not satisfied with a safe means of recovering their +honour, because this would not prove their fearlessness.)—In +the first-named variety of revenge it is +just fear that strikes the counter-blow; in the second +case it is the absence of fear, which, as has been said, +wishes to manifest itself in the counter-blow.—Thus +nothing appears more different than the motives of +the two courses of action which are designated by the +one word <q>revenge.</q> Yet it often happens that the +avenger is not precisely certain as to what really +prompted his deed: perhaps he struck the counterblow +<pb n='214'/><anchor id='Pg214'/> +from fear and the instinct of self-preservation, +but in the background, when he has time to reflect +upon the standpoint of wounded honour, he imagines +that he has avenged himself for the sake of his +honour—this motive is in any case more <emph>reputable</emph> +than the other. An essential point is whether he +sees his honour injured in the eyes of others (the +world) or only in the eyes of his offenders: in the +latter case he will prefer secret, in the former open +revenge. Accordingly, as he enters strongly or +feebly into the soul of the doer and the spectator, +his revenge will be more bitter or more tame. If +he is entirely lacking in this sort of imagination, he +will not think at all of revenge, as the feeling of +<q>honour</q> is not present in him, and accordingly +cannot be wounded. In the same way, he will not +think of revenge if he despises the offender and the +spectator; because as objects of his contempt they +cannot give him honour, and accordingly cannot rob +him of honour. Finally, he will forego revenge in +the not uncommon case of his loving the offender. +It is true that he then suffers loss of honour in the +other's eyes, and will perhaps become less worthy +of having his love returned. But even to renounce +all requital of love is a sacrifice that love is ready +to make when its only object is to avoid hurting the +beloved object: this would mean hurting oneself +more than one is hurt by the sacrifice.—Accordingly, +every one will avenge himself, unless he be bereft +of honour or inspired by contempt or by love for the +offender. Even if he turns to the law-courts, he +desires revenge as a private individual; but also, as +a thoughtful, prudent man of society, he desires the +<pb n='215'/><anchor id='Pg215'/> +revenge of society upon one who does not respect +it. Thus by legal punishment private honour as +well as that of society is restored—that is to say, +punishment is revenge. Punishment undoubtedly +contains the first-mentioned element of revenge, +in as far as by its means society helps to preserve +itself, and strikes a counter-blow in self-defence. +Punishment desires to prevent further injury, to +scare other offenders. In this way the two elements +of revenge, different as they are, are united in punishment, +and this may perhaps tend most of all to +maintain the above-mentioned confusion of ideas, +thanks to which the individual avenger generally +does not know what he really wants. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>34.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Virtues that Damage Us.</hi>—As members +of communities we think we have no right to exercise +certain virtues which afford us great honour and some +pleasure as private individuals (for example, indulgence +and favour towards miscreants of all kinds)—in +short, every mode of action whereby the advantage +of society would suffer through our virtue. No bench +of judges, face to face with its conscience, may permit +itself to be gracious. This privilege is reserved +for the king as an individual, and we are glad when +he makes use of it, proving that we should like to be +gracious individually, but not collectively. Society +recognises only the virtues profitable to her, or at +least not injurious to her—virtues like justice, which +are exercised without loss, or, in fact, at compound +interest. The virtues that damage us cannot have +<pb n='216'/><anchor id='Pg216'/> +originated in society, because even now opposition +to them arises in every small society that is in the +making. Such virtues are therefore those of men +of unequal standing, invented by the superior individuals; +they are the virtues of rulers, and the idea +underlying them is: <q>I am mighty enough to put +up with an obvious loss; that is a proof of my power.</q> +Thus they are virtues closely akin to pride. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>35.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Casuistry of Advantage.</hi>—There would +be no moral casuistry if there were no casuistry of +advantage. The most free and refined intelligence +is often incapable of choosing between two alternatives +in such a way that his choice necessarily involves +the greater advantage. In such cases we +choose because we must, and afterwards often feel +a kind of emotional sea-sickness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>36.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Turning Hypocrite.</hi>—Every beggar turns +hypocrite, like every one who makes his living out +of indigence, be it personal or public.—The beggar +does not feel want nearly so keenly as he must make +others feel it, if he wishes to make a living by mendicancy. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>37.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Sort of Cult of the Passions.</hi>—You +hypochondriacs, you philosophic blind-worms talk +of the formidable nature of human passions, in +order to inveigh against the dreadsomeness of the +<pb n='217'/><anchor id='Pg217'/> +whole world-structure. As if the passions were +always and everywhere formidable! As if this +sort of terror must always exist in the world!—Through +a carelessness in small matters, through +a deficiency in observation of self and of the rising +generation, you have yourselves allowed your +passions to develop into such unruly monsters that +you are frightened now at the mere mention of the +word <q>passion</q>! It rests with you and it rests +with us to divest the passions of their formidable +features and so to dam them that they do not +become devastating floods.—We must not exalt +our errors into eternal fatalities. Rather shall we +honestly endeavour to convert all the passions of +humanity into sources of joy.<note place='foot'>The play on Freudenschaften (<hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> pleasure-giving passions) +and <foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Leidenschaften</foreign> (<hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> pain-giving passions) is often used by +Nietzsche, and is untranslateable.—<hi rend='italic'>Tr.</hi></note> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>38.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Sting of Conscience.</hi>—The sting of conscience, +like the gnawing of a dog at a stone, is +mere foolishness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>39.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Origin of Rights.</hi>—Rights may be traced to +traditions, traditions to momentary agreements. At +some time or other men were mutually content +with the consequences of making an agreement, +and, again, too indolent formally to renew it. +Thus they went on living as if it had constantly +been renewed, and gradually, when oblivion cast its +<pb n='218'/><anchor id='Pg218'/> +veil over the origin, they thought they possessed +a sacred, unalterable foundation on which every +generation would be compelled to build. Tradition +was now a constraint, even if it no more involved +the profit originally derived from making the +agreement.—Here the weak have always found their +strong fortress. They are inclined to immortalise +the momentary agreement, the single act of favour +shown towards them. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>40.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Significance of Oblivion in Moral +Sentiment.</hi>—The same actions that in primitive +society first aimed at the common advantage were +later on performed from other motives: from fear +or reverence of those who demanded and recommended +them; or from habit, because men had seen +them done about them from childhood upwards; +or from kindness, because the practising of them +caused delight and approving looks on all sides; +or from vanity, because they were praised. Such +actions, in which the fundamental motive, that of +utility, has been <emph>forgotten</emph>, are then called moral; +not, indeed, because they are done from those other +motives, but because they are not done with a conscious +purpose of utility.—Whence the hatred of +utility that suddenly manifests itself here, and +by which all praiseworthy actions formally exclude +all actions for the sake of utility?—Clearly +society, the rallying-point of all morality and of +all maxims in praise of moral action, has had to +battle too long and too fiercely with the selfishness +and obstinacy of the individual not to rate every +<pb n='219'/><anchor id='Pg219'/> +motive morally higher than utility. Hence it looks +as if morals had not sprung from utility, whereas +in fact morals are originally the public utility, +which had great difficulty in prevailing over the +interests of the unit and securing a loftier reputation. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>41.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Heirs to the Wealth of Morality.</hi>—Even +in the domain of morals there is an inherited +wealth, which is owned by the gentle, the good-tempered, +the compassionate, the indulgent. They +have inherited from their forefathers their gentle +mode of action, but not common sense (the source +of that mode of action). The pleasant thing about +this wealth is that one must always bestow and +communicate a portion of it, if its presence is to be +felt at all. Thus this wealth unconsciously aims +at bridging the gulf between the morally rich and +the morally poor, and, what is its best and most +remarkable feature, not for the sake of a future +mean between rich and poor, but for the sake of a +universal prosperity and superfluity.—Such may be +the prevailing view of inherited moral wealth, but +it seems to me that this view is maintained more +<foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>in majorem gloriam</foreign> of morality than in honour +of truth. Experience at least establishes a maxim +which must serve, if not as a refutation, at any rate +as an important check upon that generalisation. +Without the most exquisite intelligence, says experience, +without the most refined capacity for choice +and a strong propensity to observe the mean, the +morally rich will become spendthrifts of morality. +<pb n='220'/><anchor id='Pg220'/> +For by abandoning themselves without restraint to +their compassionate, gentle, conciliatory, harmonising +instincts, they make all about them more +careless, more covetous, and more sentimental. +The children of these highly moral spendthrifts +easily and (sad to relate) at best become pleasant +but futile wasters. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>42.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Judge and Extenuating Circumstances.</hi>—<q>One +should behave as a man of honour +even towards the devil and pay his debts,</q> said an +old soldier, when the story of Faust had been related +to him in rather fuller detail. <q>Hell is the right +place for Faust!</q> <q>You are terrible, you men!</q> +cried his wife; <q>how can that be? After all, his +only fault was having no ink in his ink-stand! It +is indeed a sin to write with blood, but surely for +that such a handsome man ought not to burn in +Hell-fire?</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>43.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Problem of the Duty of Truth.</hi>—Duty is +an imperious sentiment that forces us to action. +We call it good, and consider it outside the pale +of discussion. The origin, limits, and justification +of duty we will not debate or allow to be debated. +But the thinker considers everything an evolution +and every evolution a subject for discussion, and is +accordingly without duty so long as he is merely +a thinker. As such, he would not recognise the +duty of seeing and speaking the truth; he would +not <emph>feel</emph> the sentiment at all. He asks, whence +comes it and whither will it go? But even this +<pb n='221'/><anchor id='Pg221'/> +questioning appears to him questionable. Surely, +however, the consequence would be that the thinker's +machinery would no longer work properly if +he could really feel himself unencumbered by duty +in the search for knowledge? It would appear, +then, that for fuel the same element is necessary as +must be investigated by means of the machine.—Perhaps +the formula will be: granted there were +a duty of recognising truth, what is then the truth +in regard to every other kind of duty?—But is +not a hypothetical sense of duty a contradiction in +terms? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>44.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Grades of Morals.</hi>—Morality is primarily +a means of preserving the community and saving +it from destruction. Next it is a means of maintaining +the community on a certain plane and in a +certain degree of benevolence. Its motives are fear +and hope, and these in a more coarse, rough, and +powerful form, the more the propensity towards +the perverse, one-sided, and personal still persists. +The most terrible means of intimidation must be +brought into play so long as milder forms have +no effect and that twofold species of preservation +cannot be attained. (The strongest intimidation, +by the way, is the invention of a hereafter with a +hell everlasting.) For this purpose we must have +racks and torturers of the soul. Further grades of +morality, and accordingly means to the end referred +to, are the commandments of a God (as in +the Mosaic law). Still further and higher are the +commandments of an absolute sense of duty with +<pb n='222'/><anchor id='Pg222'/> +a <q>Thou shalt</q>—all rather roughly hewn yet <emph>broad</emph> +steps, because on the finer, narrower steps men +cannot yet set their feet. Then comes a morality +of inclination, of taste, finally of insight—which is +beyond all the illusory motives of morality, but +has convinced itself that humanity for long periods +could be allowed no other. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>45.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Morality of Pity in the Mouths of The +Intemperate.</hi>—All those who are not sufficiently +masters of themselves and do not know morality +as a self-control and self-conquest continuously +exercised in things great and small, unconsciously +come to glorify the good, compassionate, benevolent +impulses of that instinctive morality which has no +head, but seems merely to consist of a heart and +helpful hands. It is to their interest even to cast +suspicion upon a morality of reason and to set up +the other as the sole morality. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>46.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Sewers of the Soul.</hi>—Even the soul must +have its definite sewers, through which it can allow +its filth to flow off: for this purpose it may use +persons, relations, social classes, its native country, +or the world, or finally—for the wholly arrogant (I +mean our modern <q>pessimists</q>)—<foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>le bon Dieu</foreign>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>47.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Kind of Rest and Contemplation.</hi>—Beware +lest your rest and contemplation resemble that +<pb n='223'/><anchor id='Pg223'/> +of a dog before a butcher's stall, prevented by fear +from advancing and by greed from retiring, and +opening its eyes wide as though they were mouths. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>48.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Prohibitions without Reasons.</hi>—A prohibition, +the reason of which we do not understand or +admit, is almost a command, not only for the stiff-necked +but for the thirster after knowledge. We +at once make an experiment in order to learn <emph>why</emph> +the prohibition was made. Moral prohibitions, like +those of the Decalogue, are only suited to ages +when reason lies vanquished. Nowadays a prohibition +like <q>Thou shalt not kill,</q> <q>Thou shalt +not commit adultery,</q> laid down without reasons, +would have an injurious rather than a beneficial +effect. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>49.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Character Portrait.</hi>—What sort of a man +is it that can say of himself: <q>I despise very easily, +but never hate. I at once find out in every man +something which can be honoured and for which I +honour him: the so-called amiable qualities attract +me but little</q>? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>50.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pity and Contempt.</hi>—The expression of pity +is regarded as a sign of contempt, because one has +clearly ceased to be an object of <emph>fear</emph> as soon as one +becomes an object of pity. One has sunk below +the level of the equilibrium. For this equilibrium +does not satisfy human vanity, which is only satisfied +<pb n='224'/><anchor id='Pg224'/> +by the feeling that one is imposing respect and +awe. Hence it is difficult to explain why pity is +so highly prized, just as we need to explain why +the unselfish man, who is originally despised or +feared as being artful, is praised. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>51.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Capacity of Being Small.</hi>—We must +be as near to flowers, grasses, and butterflies as +a child, that is, not much bigger than they. We +adults have grown up beyond them and have to +stoop to them. I think the grasses hate us when +we confess our love for them.—He who would have +a share in all good things must understand at times +how to be small. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>52.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Sum-Total of Conscience.</hi>—The sum-total +of our conscience is all that has regularly been +demanded of us, without reason, in the days of our +childhood, by people whom we respected or feared. +From conscience comes that feeling of obligation +(<q>This I must do, this omit</q>) which does not ask, +Why must I?—In all cases where a thing is done +with <q>because</q> and <q>why,</q> man acts without conscience, +but not necessarily on that account <emph>against</emph> +conscience.—The belief in authority is the source of +conscience; which is therefore not the voice of God +in the heart of man, but the voice of some men in +man. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>53.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Conquest of the Passions.</hi>—The man who has +overcome his passions has entered into possession +<pb n='225'/><anchor id='Pg225'/> +of the most fruitful soil, like the colonist who has +become lord over bogs and forests. To sow the +seed of spiritual good works on the soil of the +vanquished passions is the next and most urgent +task. The conquest itself is a means, not an end: +if it be not so regarded, all kind of weeds and +devil's crop quickly spring up upon the fertile soil +that has been cleared, and soon the growth is all +wilder and more luxuriant than before. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>54.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Skill in Service.</hi>—All so-called practical men +have skill in service, whether it be serving others +or themselves; this is what makes them practical. +Robinson owned a servant even better than Friday—his +name was Crusoe. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>55.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Danger in Speech to Intellectual Freedom.</hi>—Every +word is a preconceived judgment. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>56.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Intellect and Boredom.</hi>—The proverb, <q>The +Hungarian is far too lazy to feel bored,</q> gives food +for thought. Only the highest and most active +animals are capable of being bored.—The boredom +of God on the seventh day of Creation would be a +subject for a great poet. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>57.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Intercourse with Animals.</hi>—The origin of +our morality may still be observed in our relations +<pb n='226'/><anchor id='Pg226'/> +with animals. Where advantage or the reverse do +not come into play, we have a feeling of complete +irresponsibility. For example, we kill or wound +insects or let them live, and as a rule think no more +about it. We are so clumsy that even our gracious +acts towards flowers and small animals are almost +always murderous: this does not in the least detract +from our pleasure in them.—To-day is the festival +of the small animals, the most sultry day of the +year. There is a swarming and crawling around +us, and we, without intention, but also without +reflection, crush here and there a little fly or +winged beetle.—If animals do us harm, we strive +to <emph>annihilate</emph> them in every possible way. The +means are often cruel enough, even without our +really intending them to be so—it is the cruelty of +thoughtlessness. If they are useful, we turn them +to advantage, until a more refined wisdom teaches +us that certain animals amply reward a different +mode of treatment, that of tending and breeding. +Here responsibility first arises. Torturing is avoided +in the case of the domestic animal. One man is +indignant if another is cruel to his cow, quite in +accordance with the primitive communal morality, +which sees the commonwealth in danger whenever +an individual does wrong. He who perceives any +transgression in the community fears indirect harm +to himself. Thus we fear in this case for the quality +of meat, agriculture, and means of communication +if we see the domestic animals ill-treated. Moreover, +he who is harsh to animals awakens a suspicion +that he is also harsh to men who are weak, inferior, +and incapable of revenge. He is held to be ignoble +<pb n='227'/><anchor id='Pg227'/> +and deficient in the finer form of pride. Thus arises +a foundation of moral judgments and sentiments, +but the greatest contribution is made by superstition. +Many animals incite men by glances, tones, +and gestures to transfer themselves into them +in imagination, and some religions teach us, under +certain circumstances, to see in animals the dwelling-place +of human and divine souls: whence they recommend +a nobler caution or even a reverential +awe in intercourse with animals. Even after the +disappearance of this superstition the sentiments +awakened by it continue to exercise their influence, +to ripen and to blossom.—Christianity, as is well +known, has shown itself in this respect a poor and +retrograde religion. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>58.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>New Actors.</hi>—Among human beings there is +no greater banality than death. Second in order, +because it is possible to die without being born, +comes birth, and next comes marriage. But these +hackneyed little tragi-comedies are always presented, +at each of their unnumbered and innumerable +performances, by new actors, and accordingly do +not cease to find interested spectators: whereas we +might well believe that the whole audience of the +world-theatre had long since hanged themselves to +every tree from sheer boredom at these performances. +So much depends on new actors, so little on the +piece. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>59.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>What is <q>Being Obstinate</q>?</hi>—The shortest +way is not the straightest possible, but that wherein +<pb n='228'/><anchor id='Pg228'/> +favourable winds swell our sails. So says the wisdom +of seamen. Not to follow his course is obstinate, +firmness of character being then adulterated +by stupidity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>60.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Word <q>Vanity.</q></hi>—It is annoying that +certain words, with which we moralists positively +cannot dispense, involve in themselves a kind of +censorship of morals, dating from the times when +the most ordinary and natural impulses were denounced. +Thus that fundamental conviction that +on the waves of society we either find navigable +waters or suffer shipwreck far more through what +we appear than through what we are (a conviction +that must act as guiding principle of all action in +relation to society) is branded with the general word +<q>vanity.</q> In other words, one of the most weighty +and significant of qualities is branded with an expression +which denotes it as essentially empty and +negative: a great thing is designated by a diminutive, +ay, even slandered by the strokes of caricature. +There is no help for it; we must use such words, but +then we must shut our ears to the insinuations of +ancient habits. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>61.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Fatalism of the Turk.</hi>—The fatalism of +the Turk has this fundamental defect, that it contrasts +man and fate as two distinct things. Man, +says this doctrine, may struggle against fate and +try to baffle it, but in the end fate will always gain +the victory. Hence the most rational course is to +<pb n='229'/><anchor id='Pg229'/> +resign oneself or to live as one pleases. As a +matter of fact, every man is himself a piece of fate. +When he thinks that he is struggling against fate +in this way, fate is accomplishing its ends even in +that struggle. The combat is a fantasy, but so is the +resignation in fate—all these fantasies are included +in fate.—The fear felt by most people of the doctrine +that denies the freedom of the will is a fear of the +fatalism of the Turk. They imagine that man will +become weakly resigned and will stand before the +future with folded hands, because he cannot alter +anything of the future. Or that he will give a free +rein to his caprices, because the predestined cannot +be made worse by that course. The follies of men +are as much a piece of fate as are his wise actions, +and even that fear of belief in fate is a fatality. You +yourself, you poor timid creature, are that indomitable +<foreign rend='italic'>Moira</foreign>, which rules even the Gods; whatever +may happen, you are a curse or a blessing, and +in any case the fetters wherein the strongest lies +bound: in you the whole future of the human world +is predestined, and it is no use for you to be frightened +of yourself. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>62.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Advocate of the Devil.</hi>—<q>Only by our +own suffering do we become wise, only by others' +suffering do we become good</q>—so runs that strange +philosophy which derives all morality from pity and +all intellectuality from the isolation of the individual. +Herein this philosophy is the unconscious pleader +for all human deterioration. For pity needs suffering, +and isolation contempt of others. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='230'/><anchor id='Pg230'/> + +<div> +<head>63.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Moral Character-Masks.</hi>—In ages +when the character-masks of different classes are +definitely fixed, like the classes themselves, moralists +will be seduced into holding the moral character-masks, +too, as absolute, and in delineating them +accordingly. Thus Molière is intelligible as the +contemporary of the society of Louis XIV.: in our +society of transitions and intermediate stages he +would seem an inspired pedant. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>64.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Most Noble Virtue.</hi>—In the first era of +the higher humanity courage is accounted the most +noble virtue, in the next justice, in the third temperance, +in the fourth wisdom. In which era do <emph>we</emph> +live? In which do <emph>you</emph> live? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>65.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Necessary Preliminary.</hi>—A man who will +not become master of his irritability, his venomous +and vengeful feelings, and his lust, and attempts to +become master in anything else, is as stupid as the +farmer who lays out his field beside a torrent without +guarding against that torrent. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>66.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>What is Truth?</hi>—<hi rend='italic'>Schwarzert</hi> (Melanchthon): +We often preach our faith when we have lost it, and +leave not a stone unturned to find it—and then we +often do not preach worst! +</p> + +<pb n='231'/><anchor id='Pg231'/> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Luther</hi>: Brother, you are really speaking like an +angel to-day. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Schwarzert</hi>: But that is the idea of your enemies, +and they apply it to you. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Luther</hi>: Then it would be a lie from the devil's +hind-quarters. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>67.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Habit of Contrasts.</hi>—Superficial, inexact +observation sees contrasts everywhere in +nature (for instance, <q>hot and cold</q>), where there +are no contrasts, only differences of degree. This +bad habit has induced us to try to understand +and interpret even the inner nature, the intellectual +and moral world, in accordance with such contrasts. +An infinite amount of cruelty, arrogance, harshness, +estrangement, and coldness has entered into human +emotion, because men imagined they saw contrasts +where there were only transitions. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>68.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Can We Forgive?</hi>—How can we forgive them +at all, if they know not what they do? We have +nothing to forgive. But does a man ever fully know +what he is doing? And if this point at least remains +always debatable, men never have anything to forgive +each other, and indulgence is for the reasonable +man an impossible thing. Finally, if the +evil-doers had really known what they did, we +should still only have a right to forgive if we had a +right to accuse and to punish. But we have not +that right. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='232'/><anchor id='Pg232'/> + +<div> +<head>69.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Habitual Shame.</hi>—Why do we feel shame +when some virtue or merit is attributed to us which, +as the saying goes, <q>we have not deserved</q>? +Because we appear to have intruded upon a territory +to which we do not belong, from which we should +be excluded, as from a holy place or holy of holies, +which ought not to be trodden by our foot. Through +the errors of others we have, nevertheless, penetrated +to it, and we are now swayed partly by fear, partly +by reverence, partly by surprise; we do not know +whether we ought to fly or to enjoy the blissful +moment with all its gracious advantages. In all +shame there is a mystery, which seems desecrated or +in danger of desecration through us. All <emph>favour</emph> +begets shame.—But if it be remembered that we +have never really <q>deserved</q> anything, this feeling +of shame, provided that we surrender ourselves to +this point of view in a spirit of Christian contemplation, +becomes habitual, because upon such a +one God seems continually to be conferring his +blessing and his favours. Apart from this Christian +interpretation, the state of habitual shame will be +possible even to the entirely godless sage, who +clings firmly to the basic non-responsibility and non-meritoriousness +of all action and being. If he be +treated as if he had deserved this or that, he will +seem to have won his way into a higher order of +beings, who do actually deserve something, who are +free and can really bear the burden of responsibility +for their own volition and capacity. Whoever says +to him, <q>You have deserved it,</q> appears to cry +<pb n='233'/><anchor id='Pg233'/> +out to him, <q>You are not a human being, but a +God.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>70.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Most Unskilful Teacher.</hi>—In one man +all his real virtues are implanted on the soil of his +spirit of contradiction, in another on his incapacity +to say <q>no</q>—in other words, on his spirit of acquiescence. +A third has made all his morality grow +out of his pride as a solitary, a fourth from his +strong social instinct. Now, supposing that the seeds +of the virtues in these four cases, owing to mischance +or unskilful teachers, were not sown on the soil of +their nature, which provides them with the richest +and most abundant mould, they would become +weak, unsatisfactory men (devoid of morality). +And who would have been the most unskilful of +teachers, the evil genius of these men? The moral +fanatic, who thinks that the good can only grow +out of the good and on the soil of the good. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>71.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Cautious Style.</hi>—<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> But if this were +known to <emph>all</emph>, it would be injurious to the <emph>majority</emph>. +You yourself call your opinions dangerous to those +in danger, and yet you make them public? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> I write so that neither the mob, nor the +<foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>populi</foreign>, nor the parties of all kinds can read me. So +my opinions will never be <q>public opinions.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> How do you write, then? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> Neither usefully nor pleasantly—for the three +classes I have mentioned. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='234'/><anchor id='Pg234'/> + +<div> +<head>72.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Divine Missionaries.</hi>—Even Socrates feels +himself to be a divine missionary, but I am not sure +whether we should not here detect a tincture of that +Attic irony and fondness for jesting whereby this +odious, arrogant conception would be toned down. +He talks of the fact without unction—his images of +the gadfly and the horse are simple and not sacerdotal. +The real religious task which he has set +himself—to <emph>test</emph> God in a hundred ways and see +whether he spoke the truth—betrays a bold and free +attitude, in which the missionary walked by the side +of his God. This testing of God is one of the most +subtle compromises between piety and free-thinking +that has ever been devised.—Nowadays we do not +even need this compromise any longer. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>73.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Honesty in Painting.</hi>—Raphael, who cared a +great deal for the Church (so far as she could pay +him), but, like the best men of his time, cared little +for the objects of the Church's belief, did not advance +one step to meet the exacting, ecstatic piety of many +of his patrons. He remained honest even in that +exceptional picture which was originally intended +for a banner in a procession—the Sistine Madonna. +Here for once he wished to paint a vision, but such +a vision as even noble youths without <q>faith</q> may +and will have—the vision of the future wife, a wise, +high-souled, silent, and very beautiful woman, carrying +her first-born in her arms. Let men of an older +generation, accustomed to prayer and devotion, find +<pb n='235'/><anchor id='Pg235'/> +here, like the worthy elder on the left, something +superhuman to revere. We younger men (so +Raphael seems to call to us) are occupied with the +beautiful maiden on the right, who says to the +spectator of the picture, with her challenging and +by no means devout look, <q>The mother and her +child—is not that a pleasant, inviting sight?</q> The +face and the look are reflected in the joy in the faces +of the beholders. The artist who devised all this +enjoys himself in this way, and adds his own delight +to the delight of the art-lover. As regards the +<q>messianic</q> expression in the face of the child, +Raphael, honest man, who would not paint any +state of soul in which he did not believe, has +amiably cheated his religious admirers. He painted +that freak of nature which is very often found, the +man's eye in the child's face, and that, too, the eye +of a brave, helpful man who sees distress. This eye +should be accompanied by a beard. The fact that a +beard is wanting, and that two different ages are seen +in one countenance, is the pleasing paradox which +believers have interpreted in accordance with their +faith in miracles. The artist could only expect as +much from their art of exposition and interpretation. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>74.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Prayer.</hi>—On two hypotheses alone is there any +sense in prayer, that not quite extinct custom of +olden times. It would have to be possible either +to fix or alter the will of the godhead, and the +devotee would have to know best himself what he +needs and should really desire. Both hypotheses, +<pb n='236'/><anchor id='Pg236'/> +axiomatic and traditional in all other religions, are +denied by Christianity. If Christianity nevertheless +maintained prayer side by side with its belief +in the all-wise and all-provident divine reason (a +belief that makes prayer really senseless and even +blasphemous), it showed here once more its admirable +<q>wisdom of the serpent.</q> For an outspoken +command, <q>Thou shalt not pray,</q> would have led +Christians by way of boredom to the denial of +Christianity. In the Christian <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>ora et labora ora</foreign> +plays the rôle of pleasure. Without <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>ora</foreign> what could +those unlucky saints who renounced <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>labora</foreign> have +done? But to have a chat with God, to ask him +for all kinds of pleasant things, to feel a slight +amusement at one's own folly in still having any +wishes at all, in spite of so excellent a father—all +that was an admirable invention for saints. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>75.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Holy Lie.</hi>—The lie that was on Arria's lips +when she died (<foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>Paete, non dolet</foreign><note place='foot'>The wife of the Stoic Thrasea Paetus, when their complicity +in the great conspiracy of 65 <hi rend='smallcaps'>a.d.</hi> against Nero was +discovered, is reported to have said as she committed suicide, +<q>It doesn't hurt, Paetus.</q>—<hi rend='italic'>Tr.</hi></note>) obscures all the +truths that have ever been uttered by the dying. +It is the only holy <emph>lie</emph> that has become famous, +whereas elsewhere the odour of sanctity has clung +only to <emph>errors</emph>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>76.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Most Necessary Apostle.</hi>—Among +twelve apostles one must always be hard as stone, in +order that upon him the new church may be built. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='237'/><anchor id='Pg237'/> + +<div> +<head>77.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Which is more Transitory, the Body or +the Spirit?</hi>—In legal, moral, and religious institutions +the external and concrete elements—in other +words, rites, gestures, and ceremonies—are the most +permanent. They are the body to which a new +spirit is constantly being superadded. The cult, +like an unchangeable text, is ever interpreted anew. +Concepts and emotions are fluid, customs are solid. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>78.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Belief in Disease <hi rend='italic'>qua</hi> Disease.</hi>—Christianity +first painted the devil on the wall of +the world. Christianity first brought the idea of sin +into the world. The belief in the remedies, which +is offered as an antidote, has gradually been shaken +to its very foundations. But the belief in the +disease, which Christianity has taught and propagated, +still exists. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>79.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Speech and Writings of Religious Men.</hi>—If +the priest's style and general expression, both in +speaking and writing, do not clearly betray the +religious man, we need no longer take his views +upon religion and his pleading for religion seriously. +These opinions have become powerless for him if, +judging by his style, he has at command irony, +arrogance, malice, hatred, and all the changing +eddies of mood, just like the most irreligious of +men—how far more powerless will they be for his +<pb n='238'/><anchor id='Pg238'/> +hearers and readers! In short, he will serve to +make the latter still more irreligious. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>80.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Danger in Personality.</hi>—The more +God has been regarded as a personality in himself, +the less loyal have we been to him. Men are far +more attached to their thought-images than to their +best beloved. That is why they sacrifice themselves +for State, Church, and even for God—so far as he +remains <emph>their</emph> creation, their thought, and is not too +much looked upon as a personality. In the latter +case they almost always quarrel with him. After +all, it was the most pious of men who let slip that +bitter cry: <q>My God, why hast thou forsaken me?</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>81.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Worldly Justice.</hi>—It is possible to unhinge +worldly justice with the doctrine of the complete +non-responsibility and innocence of every man. +An attempt has been made in the same direction +on the basis of the opposite doctrine of the full +responsibility and guilt of every man. It was the +founder of Christianity who wished to abolish +worldly justice and banish judgment and punishment +from the world. For he understood all guilt +as <q>sin</q>—that is, an outrage against God and not +against the world. On the other hand, he considered +every man in a broad sense, and almost +in every sense, a sinner. The guilty, however, are +not to be the judges of their peers—so his rules +<pb n='239'/><anchor id='Pg239'/> +of equity decided. Thus all dispensers of worldly +justice were in his eyes as culpable as those they +condemned, and their air of guiltlessness appeared +to him hypocritical and pharisaical. Moreover, he +looked to the motives and not to the results of +actions, and thought that only one was keen-sighted +enough to give a verdict on motives—himself or, as +he expressed it, God. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>82.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>An Affectation in Parting.</hi>—He who wishes +to sever his connection with a party or a creed thinks +it necessary for him to refute it. This is a most +arrogant notion. The only thing necessary is that +he should clearly see what tentacles hitherto held +him to this party or creed and no longer hold him, +what views impelled him to it and now impel him +in some other directions. We have not joined the +party or creed on strict grounds of knowledge. We +should not affect this attitude on parting from it +either. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>83.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Saviour and Physician.</hi>—In his knowledge of +the human soul the founder of Christianity was, as +is natural, not without many great deficiencies and +prejudices, and, as physician of the soul, was addicted +to that disreputable, laical belief in a universal +medicine. In his methods he sometimes resembles +that dentist who wishes to heal all pain by extracting +the tooth. Thus, for example, he assails sensuality +with the advice: <q>If thine eye offend thee, +pluck it out.</q>—Yet there still remains the distinction +<pb n='240'/><anchor id='Pg240'/> +that the dentist at least attains his object—painlessness +for the patient—although in so clumsy a fashion +that he becomes ridiculous; whereas the Christian +who follows that advice and thinks he has killed +his sensuality, is wrong, for his sensuality still lives +in an uncanny, vampire form, and torments him in +hideous disguises. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>84.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Prisoners.</hi>—One morning the prisoners entered +the yard for work, but the warder was not there. +Some, as their manner was, set to work at once; +others stood idle and gazed defiantly around. +Then one of them strode forward and cried, <q>Work +as much as you will or do nothing, it all comes to +the same. Your secret machinations have come to +light; the warder has been keeping his eye on you +of late, and will cause a terrible judgment to be +passed upon you in a few days' time. You know +him—he is of a cruel and resentful disposition. +But now, listen: you have mistaken me hitherto. +I am not what I seem, but far more—I am the son +of the warder, and can get anything I like out of +him. I can save you—nay, I will save you. But +remember this: I will only save those of you who +<emph>believe</emph> that I am the son of the prison warder. +The rest may reap the fruits of their unbelief.</q> +<q>Well,</q> said an old prisoner after an interval of +silence, <q>what can it matter to you whether we +believe you or not? If you are really the son, and +can do what you say, then put in a good word for +us all. That would be a real kindness on your +part. But have done with all talk of belief and +<pb n='241'/><anchor id='Pg241'/> +unbelief!</q> <q>What is more,</q> cried a younger man, +<q>I don't believe him: he has only got a bee in his +bonnet. I'll wager that in a week's time we shall +find ourselves in the same place as we are to-day, +and the warder will know nothing.</q> <q>And if the +warder ever knew anything, he knows it no longer,</q> +said the last of the prisoners, coming down into +the yard at that moment, <q>for he has just died +suddenly.</q> <q>Ah ha!</q> cried several in confusion, +<q>ah ha! Sir Son, Sir Son, how stands it now with +your title? Are we by any chance <emph>your</emph> prisoners +now?</q> <q>I told you,</q> answered the man gently, +<q>I will set free all who believe in me, as surely as +my father still lives.</q>—The prisoners did not laugh, +but shrugged their shoulders and left him to himself. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>85.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Persecutors of God.</hi>—Paul conceived +and Calvin followed up the idea that countless +creatures have been predestined to damnation from +time immemorial, and that this fair world was +made in order that the glory of God might be +manifested therein. So heaven and hell and mankind +merely exist to satisfy the vanity of God! +What a cruel, insatiable vanity must have smouldered +in the soul of the first or second thinker of such a +thought!—Paul, then, after all, remained Saul—the +persecutor of God. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>86.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Socrates.</hi>—If all goes well, the time will come +when, in order to advance themselves on the path +<pb n='242'/><anchor id='Pg242'/> +of moral reason, men will rather take up the +<hi rend='italic'>Memorabilia</hi> of Socrates than the Bible, and when +Montaigne and Horace will be used as pioneers and +guides for the understanding of Socrates, the simplest +and most enduring of interpretative sages. In him +converge the roads of the most different philosophic +modes of life, which are in truth the modes of +the different temperaments, crystallised by reason +and habit and all ultimately directed towards the +delight in life and in self. The apparent conclusion +is that the most peculiar thing about Socrates +was his share in all the temperaments. Socrates +excels the founder of Christianity by virtue of his +merry style of seriousness and by that wisdom of +sheer roguish pranks which constitutes the best state +of soul in a man. Moreover, he had a superior intelligence. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>87.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Learning to Write Well.</hi>—The age of good +speaking is over, because the age of city-state culture +is over. The limit allowed by Aristotle to the +great city—in which the town-crier must be able +to make himself heard by the whole assembled +community—troubles us as little as do any city-communities, +us who even wish to be understood +beyond the boundaries of nations. Therefore +every one who is of a good European turn of mind +must learn to <emph>write</emph> well, and to write better and +better. He cannot help himself, he must learn +that: even if he was born in Germany, where bad +writing is looked upon as a national privilege. +Better writing means better thinking; always to +<pb n='243'/><anchor id='Pg243'/> +discover matter more worthy of communication; to +be able to communicate it properly; to be translateable +into the tongues of neighbouring nations; to +make oneself comprehensible to foreigners who +learn our language; to work with the view of +making all that is good common property, and of +giving free access everywhere to the free; finally, +to pave the way for that still remote state of things, +when the great task shall come for good Europeans—guidance +and guardianship of the universal world-culture.—Whoever +preaches the opposite doctrine +of not troubling about good writing and good +reading (both virtues grow together and decline +together) is really showing the peoples a way of +becoming more and more <emph>national</emph>. He is intensifying +the malady of this century, and is a foe to +good Europeans, a foe to free spirits. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>88.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Theory of the Best Style.</hi>—The theory +of the best style may at one time be the theory of +finding the expression by which we transfer every +mood of ours to the reader and the listener. At +another, it may be the theory of finding expressions +for the more desirable human moods, the communication +and transference of which one desires most—for +the mood of a man moved from the depth of +his heart, intellectually cheerful, bright, and sincere, +who has conquered his passions. This will be the +theory of the best style, a theory that corresponds +to the good man. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='244'/><anchor id='Pg244'/> + +<div> +<head>89.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Paying Attention to Movement.</hi>—The +movement of the sentences shows whether the +author be tired. Individual expressions may nevertheless +be still strong and good, because they were +invented earlier and for their own sake, when the +thought first flashed across the author's mind. This +is frequently the case with Goethe, who too often +dictated when he was tired. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>90.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><q>Already</q> and <q>Still.</q></hi>—<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> German prose +is still very young. Goethe declares that Wieland +is its father. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> So young and already so ugly! +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>C.</hi> But, so far as I am aware, Bishop Ulfilas already +wrote German prose, which must therefore +be fifteen hundred years old. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> So old and still so ugly! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>91.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Original German.</hi>—German prose, which is +really not fashioned on any pattern and must be +considered an original creation of German taste, +should give the eager advocate of a future original +German culture an indication of how real German +dress, German society, German furniture, German +meals would look without the imitation of models.—Some +one who had long reflected on these vistas +finally cried in great horror, <q>But, Heaven help us, +perhaps we already have that original culture—only +we don't like to talk about it!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='245'/><anchor id='Pg245'/> + +<div> +<head>92.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Forbidden Books.</hi>—One should never read +anything written by those arrogant wiseacres and +puzzle-brains who have the detestable vice of +logical paradox. They apply <emph>logical</emph> formulæ just +where everything is really improvised at random +and built in the air. (<q>Therefore</q> with them +means, <q>You idiot of a reader, this <q>therefore</q> +does not exist for you, but only for me.</q> The +answer to this is: <q>You idiot of a writer, then why +do you write?</q>) +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>93.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Displaying One's Wit.</hi>—Every one who wishes +to display his wit thereby proclaims that he has +also a plentiful lack of wit. That vice which clever +Frenchmen have of adding a touch of <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>dédain</foreign> to their +best ideas arises from a desire to be considered +richer than they really are. They wish to be carelessly +generous, as if weary of continual spending +from overfull treasuries. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>94.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>French and German Literature.</hi>—The misfortune +of the French and German literature of the +last hundred years is that the Germans ran away too +early from the French school, and the French, later +on, went too early to the German school. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>95.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Our Prose.</hi>—None of the present-day cultured +nations has so bad a prose as the German. When +<pb n='246'/><anchor id='Pg246'/> +clever, <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>blasé</foreign> Frenchmen say, <q>There is no German +prose,</q> we ought really not to be angry, for this +criticism is more polite than we deserve. If we look +for reasons, we come at last to the strange phenomenon +that the German knows only improvised +prose and has no conception of any other. He +simply cannot understand the Italian, who says that +prose is as much harder than poetry as the representation +of naked beauty is harder to the sculptor +than that of draped beauty. Verse, images, rhythm, +and rhyme need honest effort—that even the German +realises, and he is not inclined to set a very high +value on extempore poetry. But the notion of working +at a page of prose as at a statue sounds to him +like a tale from fairyland. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>96.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Grand Style.</hi>—The grand style comes into +being when the beautiful wins a victory over the +monstrous. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>97.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Dodging.</hi>—We do not realise, in the case of distinguished +minds, wherein lies the excellence of their +expression, their turn of phrase, until we can say +what word every mediocre writer would inevitably +have hit upon in expressing the same idea. All great +artists, in steering their car, show themselves prone +to dodge and leave the track, but never to fall over. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>98.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Something like Bread.</hi>—Bread neutralises +and takes out the taste of other food, and is therefore +<pb n='247'/><anchor id='Pg247'/> +necessary to every long meal. In all works of +art there must be something like bread, in order that +they may produce divers effects. If these effects +followed one another without occasional pauses and +intervals, they would soon make us weary and provoke +disgust—in fact, a long meal of art would then +be impossible. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>99.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Jean Paul.</hi>—Jean Paul knew a great deal, but +had no science; understood all manner of tricks of +art, but had no art; found almost everything enjoyable, +but had no taste; possessed feeling and seriousness, +but in dispensing them poured over them a +nauseous sauce of tears; had even wit, but, unfortunately +for his ardent desire for it, far too little—whence +he drives the reader to despair by his very +lack of wit. In short, he was the bright, rank-smelling +weed that shot up overnight in the fair +pleasaunces of Schiller and Goethe. He was a good, +comfortable man, and yet a destiny, a destiny in a +dressing-gown.<note place='foot'>It is interesting to compare this judgment with Carlyle's +praise of Jean Paul. The dressing-gown is an allusion to +Jean Paul's favourite costume.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>100.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Palate for Opposites.</hi>—In order to enjoy a +work of the past as its contemporaries enjoyed it, +one must have a palate for the prevailing taste of +the age which it attacked. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='248'/><anchor id='Pg248'/> + +<div> +<head>101.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Spirits-of-Wine Authors.</hi>—Many writers are +neither spirit nor wine, but spirits of wine. They +can flare up, and then they give warmth. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>102.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Interpretative Sense.</hi>—The sense of +taste, as the true interpretative sense, often talks the +other senses over to its point of view and imposes +upon them its laws and customs. At table one can +receive disclosures about the most subtle secrets of +the arts; it suffices to observe what tastes good and +when and after what and how long it tastes good. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>103.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Lessing.</hi>—Lessing had a genuine French talent, +and, as writer, went most assiduously to the French +school. He knows well how to arrange and display +his wares in his shop-window. Without this true +art his thoughts, like the objects of them, would have +remained rather in the dark, nor would the general +loss be great. His art, however, has taught many +(especially the last generation of German scholars) +and has given enjoyment to a countless number. +It is true his disciples had no need to learn from +him, as they often did, his unpleasant tone with its +mingling of petulance and candour.—Opinion is now +unanimous on Lessing as <q>lyric poet,</q> and will some +day be unanimous on Lessing as <q>dramatic poet.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>104.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Undesirable Readers.</hi>—How an author is +vexed by those stolid, awkward readers who always +<pb n='249'/><anchor id='Pg249'/> +fall at every place where they stumble, and always +hurt themselves when they fall! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>105.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Poets' Thoughts.</hi>—Real thoughts of real poets +always go about with a veil on, like Egyptian women; +only the deep <emph>eye</emph> of thought looks out freely through +the veil.—Poets' thoughts are as a rule not of such +value as is supposed. We have to pay for the veil +and for our own curiosity into the bargain. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>106.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Write Simply and Usefully.</hi>—Transitions, +details, colour in depicting the passions—we make +a present of all these to the author because we bring +them with us and set them down to the credit of his +book, provided he makes us some compensation. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>107.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Wieland.</hi>—Wieland wrote German better than +any one else, and had the genuine adequacies and +inadequacies of the master. His translations of +the letters of Cicero and Lucian are the best in +the language. His ideas, however, add nothing to +our store of thought. We can endure his cheerful +moralities as little as his cheerful immoralities, for +both are very closely connected. The men who enjoyed +them were at bottom better men than we are, +but also a good deal heavier. They <emph>needed</emph> an author +of this sort. The Germans did not need Goethe, and +therefore cannot make proper use of him. We have +<pb n='250'/><anchor id='Pg250'/> +only to consider the best of our statesmen and +artists in this light. None of them had or <emph>could</emph> +have had Goethe as their teacher. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>108.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Rare Festivals.</hi>—Pithy conciseness, repose, and +maturity—where you find these qualities in an +author, cry halt and celebrate a great festival in the +desert. It will be long before you have such a treat +again. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>109.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Treasure of German Prose.</hi>—Apart +from Goethe's writings and especially Goethe's conversations +with Eckermann (the best German book +in existence), what German prose literature remains +that is worth reading over and over again? Lichtenberg's +<hi rend='italic'>Aphorisms</hi>, the first book of Jung-Stilling's +<hi rend='italic'>Story of My Life</hi>, Adalbert Stifter's <hi rend='italic'>St. Martin's +Summer</hi> and Gottfried Keller's <hi rend='italic'>People of Seldwyla</hi>—and +there, for the time being, it comes to an end. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>110.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Literary and Colloquial Style.</hi>—The art +of writing demands, first and foremost, substitutions +for the means of expression which speech alone +possesses—in other words, for gestures, accent, intonation, +and look. Hence literary style is quite +different from colloquial style, and far more difficult, +because it has to make itself as intelligible as the +latter with fewer accessaries. Demosthenes delivered +his speeches differently from what we read; he +<pb n='251'/><anchor id='Pg251'/> +worked them up for reading purposes.—Cicero's +speeches ought to be <q>demosthenised</q> with the +same object, for at present they contain more of the +Roman Forum than we can endure. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>111.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Caution in Quotation.</hi>—Young authors do +not know that a good expression or idea only looks +well among its peers; that an excellent quotation +may spoil whole pages, nay the whole book; for it +seems to cry warningly to the reader, <q>Mark you, I +am the precious stone, and round about me is lead—pale, +worthless lead!</q> Every word, every idea +only desires to live in its own company—that is the +moral of a choice style. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>112.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How should Errors be Enunciated?</hi>—We +may dispute whether it be more injurious for errors +to be enunciated badly or as well as the best truths. +It is certain that in the former case they are doubly +harmful to the brain and are less easily removed +from it. But, on the other hand, they are not so +certain of effect as in the latter case. They are, in +fact, less contagious. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>113.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Limiting and Widening.</hi>—Homer limited and +diminished the horizon of his subject, but allowed +individual scenes to expand and blossom out. +Later, the tragedians are constantly renewing this +process. Each takes his material in ever smaller +and smaller fragments than his predecessor did, but +<pb n='252'/><anchor id='Pg252'/> +each attains a greater wealth of blooms within the +narrow hedges of these sequestered garden enclosures. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>114.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Literature and Morality Mutually Explanatory.</hi>—We +can show from Greek literature +by what forces the Greek spirit developed, how it +entered upon different channels, and where it became +enfeebled. All this also depicts to us how +Greek morality proceeded, and how all morality will +proceed: how it was at first a constraint and displayed +cruelty, then became gradually milder; how +a pleasure in certain actions, in certain forms and +conventions arose, and from this again a propensity +for solitary exercise, for solitary possession; how the +track becomes crowded and overcrowded with competitors; +how satiety enters in, new objects of struggle +and ambition are sought, and forgotten aims are +awakened to life; how the drama is repeated, and the +spectators become altogether weary of looking on, +because the whole gamut seems to have been run +through—and then comes a stoppage, an expiration, +and the rivulets are lost in the sand. The end, +or at any rate <emph>an</emph> end, has come. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>115.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>What Landscapes give Permanent Delight.</hi>—Such +and such a landscape has features +eminently suited for painting, but I cannot find the +formula for it; it remains beyond my grasp as a +whole. I notice that all landscapes which please +me permanently have a simple geometrical scheme +<pb n='253'/><anchor id='Pg253'/> +of lines underneath all their complexity. Without +such a mathematical substratum no scenery becomes +artistically pleasing. Perhaps this rule may +be applied symbolically to human beings. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>116.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Reading Aloud.</hi>—The ability to read aloud +involves of necessity the ability to declaim. Everywhere +we must apply pale tints, but we must determine +the degree of pallor in close relation to the +richly and deeply coloured background, that always +hovers before our eyes and acts as our guide—in +other words, in accordance with the way in which +we should <emph>declaim</emph> the same passages. That is why +we must be able to declaim. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>117.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Dramatic Sense.</hi>—He who has not the +four subtler senses of art tries to understand everything +with the fifth sense, which is the coarsest of all—the +dramatic sense. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>118.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Herder.</hi>—Herder fails to be all that he made +people think he was and himself wished to think he +was. He was no great thinker or discoverer, no +newly fertile soil with the unexhausted strength of a +virgin forest. But he possessed in the highest degree +the power of scenting the future, he saw and picked +the first-fruits of the seasons earlier than all others, +and they then believed that he had made them +grow. Between darkness and light, youth and age, +<pb n='254'/><anchor id='Pg254'/> +his mind was like a hunter on the watch, looking +everywhere for transitions, depressions, convulsions, +the outward and visible signs of internal growth. +The unrest of spring drove him to and fro, but he +was himself not the spring.—At times, indeed, he +had some inkling of this, and yet would fain not +have believed it—he, the ambitious priest, who +would have so gladly been the intellectual pope of +his epoch! This is his despair. He seems to have +lived long as a pretender to several kingdoms or +even to a universal monarchy. He had his following +which believed in him, among others the young +Goethe. But whenever crowns were really distributed, +he was passed over. Kant, Goethe, and then +the first true German historians and scholars robbed +him of what he thought he had reserved for himself +(although in silence and secret he often thought the +reverse). Just when he doubted in himself, he +gladly clothed himself in dignity and enthusiasm: +these were often in him mere garments, which had +to hide a great deal and also to deceive and comfort +him. He really had fire and enthusiasm, but his +ambition was far greater! It blew impatiently at +the fire, which flickered, crackled, and smoked—his +<emph>style</emph> flickers, crackles, and smokes—but he yearned +for the great flame which never broke out. He did +not sit at the table of the genuine creators, and his +ambition did not admit of his sitting modestly +among those who simply enjoy. Thus he was a +restless spirit, the taster of all intellectual dishes, +which were collected by the Germans from every +quarter and every age in the course of half a century. +Never really happy and satisfied, Herder was also +<pb n='255'/><anchor id='Pg255'/> +too often ill, and then at times envy sat by his bed, +and hypocrisy paid her visit as well. He always +had an air of being scarred and crippled, and he +lacked simple, stalwart manliness more completely +than any of the so-called <q>classical writers.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>119.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Scent of Words.</hi>—Every word has its scent; +there is a harmony and discord of scents, and so +too of words. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>120.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Far-Fetched Style.</hi>—The natural style +is an offence to the lover of the far-fetched style. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>121.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Vow.</hi>—I will never again read an author of +whom one can suspect that he <emph>wanted</emph> to make a +book, but only those writers whose thoughts unexpectedly +became a book. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>122.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Artistic Convention.</hi>—Three-fourths of +Homer is convention, and the same is the case with +all the Greek artists, who had no reason for falling +into the modern craze for originality. They had no +fear of convention, for after all convention was a +link between them and their public. Conventions +are the artistic means <emph>acquired</emph> for the understanding +of the hearer; the common speech, learnt with +much toil, whereby the artist can really communicate +his ideas. All the more when he wishes, like +<pb n='256'/><anchor id='Pg256'/> +the Greek poets and musicians, to conquer at once +with each of his works (since he is accustomed to +compete publicly with one or two rivals), the first +condition is that he must be understood at once, +and this is only possible by means of convention. +What the artist devises beyond convention he offers +of his own free will and takes a risk, his success at +best resulting in the setting-up of a new convention. +As a rule originality is marvelled at, sometimes +even worshipped, but seldom understood. A +stubborn avoidance of convention means a desire +not to be understood. What, then, is the object of +the modern craze for originality? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>123.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Artists' Affectation of Scientific Method.</hi>—Schiller, +like other German artists, fancied +that if a man had intellect he was entitled to improvise +even with the pen on all difficult subjects. So +there we see his prose essays—in every way a model +of how <emph>not</emph> to attack scientific questions of æsthetics +and ethics, and a danger for young readers who, in +their admiration for Schiller the poet, have not the +courage to think meanly of Schiller the thinker and +author.—The temptation to traverse for once the +forbidden paths, and to have his say in science as +well, is easy and pardonable in the artist. For +even the ablest artist from time to time finds his +handicraft and his workshop unendurable. This +temptation is so strong that it makes the artist show +all the world what no one wishes to see, that his little +chamber of thought is cramped and untidy. Why +<pb n='257'/><anchor id='Pg257'/> +not, indeed? He does not live there. He proceeds +to show that the storeroom of his knowledge is +partly empty, partly filled with lumber. Why not, +indeed? This condition does not really become +the artist-child badly. In particular, the artist +shows that for the very easiest exercises of scientific +method, which are accessible even to beginners, his +joints are too stiff and untrained. Even of that he +need not really be ashamed! On the other hand, +he often develops no mean art in imitating all the +mistakes, vices, and base pedantries that are practised +in the scientific community, in the belief that +these belong to the appearance of the thing, if not to +the thing itself. This is the very point that is so +amusing in artists' writing, that the artist involuntarily +acts as his vocation demands: he parodies +the scientific and inartistic natures. Towards science +he should show no attitude but that of parody, in +so far as he is an artist and only an artist. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>124.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Faust-Idea.</hi>—A little sempstress is seduced +and plunged into despair: a great scholar of +all the four Faculties is the evil-doer. That cannot +have happened in the ordinary course, surely? No, +certainly not! Without the aid of the devil incarnate, +the great scholar would never have achieved +the deed.—Is this really destined to be the greatest +German <q>tragic idea,</q> as one hears it said among +Germans?—But for Goethe even this idea was too +terrible. His kind heart could not avoid placing +the little sempstress, <q>the good soul that forgot +<pb n='258'/><anchor id='Pg258'/> +itself but once,</q> near to the saints, after her involuntary +death. Even the great scholar, <q>the good +man</q> with <q>the dark impulse,</q> is brought into +heaven in the nick of time, by a trick which is +played upon the devil at the decisive moment. In +heaven the lovers find themselves again. Goethe +once said that his nature was too conciliatory for +really tragic subjects. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>125.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Are there <q>German Classics</q>?</hi>—Sainte-Beuve +observes somewhere that the word <q>classic</q> +does not suit the genius of certain literatures. For +instance, nobody could talk seriously of <q>German +classics.</q>—What do our German publishers, who +are about to add fifty more to the fifty German +classics we are told to accept, say to that? Does +it not almost seem as if one need only have been +dead for the last thirty years, and lie a lawful prey +to the public,<note place='foot'>The German copyright expires thirty years after publication.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> in order to hear suddenly and unexpectedly +the trumpet of resurrection as a <q>Classic</q>? +And this in an age and a nation where at least five +out of the six great fathers of its literature are undoubtedly +antiquated or becoming antiquated—without +there being any need for the age or the nation to +be ashamed of this. For those writers have given +way before the strength of our time—let that be considered +in all fairness!—Goethe, as I have indicated, +I do not include. He belongs to a higher species +than <q>national literatures</q>: hence life, revival, +<pb n='259'/><anchor id='Pg259'/> +and decay do not enter into the reckoning in his +relations with his countrymen. He lived and now +lives but for the few; for the majority he is nothing +but a flourish of vanity which is trumpeted from +time to time across the border into foreign ears. +Goethe, not merely a great and good man, but a +<emph>culture</emph>, is in German history an interlude without a +sequel. Who, for instance, would be able to point +to any trace of Goethe's influence in German politics +of the last seventy years (whereas the influence, +certainly of Schiller, and perhaps of Lessing, can be +traced in the political world)? But what of those +five others? Klopstock, in a most honourable way, +became out of date even in his own lifetime, and so +completely that the meditative book of his later +years, <hi rend='italic'>The Republic of Learning</hi>, has never been +taken seriously from that day to this. Herder's +misfortune was that his writings were always either +new or antiquated. Thus for stronger and more +subtle minds (like Lichtenberg) even Herder's +masterpiece, his <hi rend='italic'>Ideas for the History of Mankind</hi>, +was in a way antiquated at the very moment of its +appearance. Wieland, who lived to the full and +made others live likewise, was clever enough to +anticipate by death the waning of his influence. +Lessing, perhaps, still lives to-day—but among a +young and ever younger band of scholars. Schiller +has fallen from the hands of young men into those +of boys, of all German boys. It is a well-known +sign of obsolescence when a book descends to +people of less and less mature age.—Well, what is +it that has thrust these five into the background, +so that well-educated men of affairs no longer read +<pb n='260'/><anchor id='Pg260'/> +them? A better taste, a riper knowledge, a higher +reverence for the real and the true: in other words, +the very virtues which these five (and ten or twenty +others of lesser repute) first re-planted in Germany, +and which now, like a mighty forest, cast over their +graves not only the shadow of awe, but something +of the shadow of oblivion.—But classical writers +are not planters of intellectual and literary virtues. +They bring those virtues to perfection and are their +highest luminous peaks, and being brighter, freer, +and purer than all that surrounds them, they remain +shining above the nations when the nations themselves +perish. There may come an elevated stage +of humanity, in which the Europe of the peoples +is a dark, forgotten thing, but Europe lives on in +thirty books, very old but never antiquated—in the +classics. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>126.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Interesting, but not Beautiful.</hi>—This +countryside conceals its meaning, but it has one +that we should like to guess. Everywhere that I +look, I read words and hints of words, but I do not +know where begins the sentence that solves the +riddle of all these hints. So I get a stiff neck in +trying to discover whether I should start reading +from this or that point. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>127.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Against Innovators in Language.</hi>—The use +of neologisms or archaisms, the preference for the +rare and the bizarre, the attempt to enrich rather +than to limit the vocabulary, are always signs either +<pb n='261'/><anchor id='Pg261'/> +of an immature or of a corrupted taste. A noble +poverty but a masterly freedom within the limits of +that modest wealth distinguishes the Greek artists +in oratory. They wish to have less than the people +has—for the people is richest in old and new—but +they wish to have that little <emph>better</emph>. The reckoning +up of their archaic and exotic forms is soon done, +but we never cease marvelling if we have an eye +for their light and delicate manner in handling the +commonplace and apparently long outworn elements +in word and phrase. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>128.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Gloomy and Serious Authors.</hi>—He who +commits his sufferings to paper becomes a gloomy +author, but he becomes a serious one if he tells us +what he <emph>has</emph> suffered and why he is now enjoying a +pleasurable repose. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>129.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Healthiness of Taste.</hi>—How is it that health +is less contagious than disease—generally, and particularly +in matters of taste? Or are there epidemics +of health? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>130.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Resolution.</hi>—Never again to read a book +that is born and christened (with ink) at the same +moment. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>131.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Improving our Ideas.</hi>—Improving our style +means improving our ideas, and nothing else. He +<pb n='262'/><anchor id='Pg262'/> +who does not at once concede this can never be +convinced of the point. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>132.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Classical Books.</hi>—The weakest point in every +classical book is that it is written too much in the +mother tongue of its author. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>133.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Bad Books.</hi>—The book should demand pen, ink, +and desk, but usually it is pen, ink, and desk that +demand the book. That is why books are of so little +account at present. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>134.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Presence of Sense.</hi>—When the public reflects +on paintings, it becomes a poet; when on poems, +an investigator. At the moment when the artist +summons it it is always lacking in the right sense, +and accordingly in presence of sense, not in presence +of mind. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>135.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Choice Ideas.</hi>—The choice style of a momentous +period does not only select its words but its ideas—and +both from the customary and prevailing usage. +Venturesome ideas, that smell too fresh, are to the +maturer taste no less repugnant than new and reckless +images and phrases. Later on both choice +ideas and choice words soon smack of mediocrity, +because the scent of the choice vanishes quickly, and +then nothing but the customary and commonplace +element is tasted. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='263'/><anchor id='Pg263'/> + +<div> +<head>136.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Main Reason for Corruption of Style.</hi>—The +desire to display more sentiment than one +really feels for a thing corrupts style, in language +and in all art. All great art shows rather the +opposite tendency. Like every man of moral +significance, it loves to check emotion on its way +and not let it run its course to the very end. This +modesty of letting emotion but half appear is most +clearly to be observed, for example, in Sophocles. +The features of sentiment seem to become beautified +when sentiment feigns to be more shy than it +really is. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>137.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>An Excuse for the Heavy Style.</hi>—The +lightly uttered phrase seldom falls on the ear with +the full weight of the subject. This is, however, due +to the bad training of the ear, which by education +must pass from what has hitherto been called music +to the school of the higher harmony—in other words, +to conversation. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>138.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Bird's-Eye Views.</hi>—Here torrents rush from +every side into a ravine: their movement is so swift +and stormy, and carries the eye along so quickly, +that the bare or wooded mountain slopes around +seem not to sink down but to fly down. We are in +an agonised tension at the sight, as if behind all +this were hidden some hostile element, before which +all must fly, and against which the abyss alone gave +protection. This landscape cannot be painted, unless +<pb n='264'/><anchor id='Pg264'/> +we hover above it like a bird in the open air. +Here for once the so-called bird's-eye view is not an +artistic caprice, but the sole possibility. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>139.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Rash Comparisons.</hi>—If rash comparisons are +not proofs of the wantonness of the writer, they are +proofs of the exhaustion of his imagination. In any +case they bear witness to his bad taste. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>140.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Dancing in Chains.</hi>—In the case of every +Greek artist, poet, or writer we must ask: What is +the new constraint which he imposes upon himself +and makes attractive to his contemporaries, so as to +find imitators? For the thing called <q>invention</q> +(in metre, for example) is always a self-imposed +fetter of this kind. <q>Dancing in chains</q>—to make +that hard for themselves and then to spread a false +notion that it is easy—that is the trick that they +wish to show us. Even in Homer we may perceive +a wealth of inherited formulæ and laws of epic +narration, within the circle of which he had to dance, +and he himself created new conventions for them +that came after. This was the discipline of the +Greek poets: first to impose upon themselves a +manifold constraint by means of the earlier poets; +then to invent in addition a new constraint, to impose +it upon themselves and cheerfully to overcome +it, so that constraint and victory are perceived and +admired. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='265'/><anchor id='Pg265'/> + +<div> +<head>141.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Authors' Copiousness.</hi>—The last quality that +a good author acquires is copiousness: whoever has +it to begin with will never become a good author. +The noblest racehorses are lean until they are permitted +to rest from their victories. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>142.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Wheezing Heroes.</hi>—Poets and artists who suffer +from a narrow chest of the emotions generally make +their heroes wheeze. They do not know what easy +breathing means. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>143.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Short-Sighted.</hi><note place='foot'>Nietzsche himself was extremely short-sighted.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note>—The short-sighted are +the deadly foes of all authors who let themselves go. +These authors should know the wrath with which +these people shut the book in which they observe +that its creator needs fifty pages to express five +ideas. And the cause of their wrath is that they +have endangered what remains of their vision almost +without compensation. A short-sighted person +said, <q>All authors let themselves go.</q> <q>Even the +Holy Ghost?</q> <q>Even the Holy Ghost.</q> But he had +a right to, for he wrote for those who had lost their +sight altogether. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>144.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Style of Immortality.</hi>—Thucydides and +Tacitus both imagined immortal life for their works +when they executed them. That might be guessed +<pb n='266'/><anchor id='Pg266'/> +(if not known otherwise) from their style. The one +thought to give permanence to his ideas by salting +them, the other by boiling them down; and neither, +it seems, made a miscalculation. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>145.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Against Images and Similes.</hi>—By images and +similes we convince, but we do not prove. That is +why science has such a horror of images and similes. +Science does not want to convince or make plausible, +and rather seeks to provoke cold distrust by its mode +of expression, by the bareness of its walls. For +distrust is the touchstone for the gold of certainty. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>146.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Caution.</hi>—In Germany, he who lacks thorough +knowledge should beware of writing. The good +German does not say in that case <q>he is ignorant,</q> +but <q>he is of doubtful character.</q>—This hasty conclusion, +by the way, does great credit to the Germans. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>147.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Painted Skeletons.</hi>—Painted skeletons are +those authors who try to make up for their want of +flesh by artistic colourings. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>148.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Grand Style and Something Better.</hi>—It +is easier to learn how to write the grand style +than how to write easily and simply. The reasons +for this are inextricably bound up with morality. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='267'/><anchor id='Pg267'/> + +<div> +<head>149.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Sebastian Bach.</hi>—In so far as we do not hear +Bach's music as perfect and experienced connoisseurs +of counterpoint and all the varieties of the fugal +style (and accordingly must dispense with real artistic +enjoyment), we shall feel in listening to his music—in +Goethe's magnificent phrase—as if <q>we were +present at God's creation of the world.</q> In other +words, we feel here that something great is in the +making but not yet made—our mighty modern music, +which by conquering nationalities, the Church, and +counterpoint has conquered the world. In Bach +there is still too much crude Christianity, crude +Germanism, crude scholasticism. He stands on +the threshold of modern European music, but turns +from thence to look at the Middle Ages. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>150.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Händel.</hi>—Händel, who in the invention of his +music was bold, original, truthful, powerful, inclined +to and akin to all the heroism of which a <emph>nation</emph> is +capable, often proved stiff, cold, nay even weary of +himself in composition. He applied a few well-tried +methods of execution, wrote copiously and quickly, +and was glad when he had finished—but that joy +was not the joy of God and other creators in the +eventide of their working day. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>151.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Haydn.</hi>—So far as genius can exist in a man +who is merely <emph>good</emph>, Haydn had genius. He went +<pb n='268'/><anchor id='Pg268'/> +just as far as the limit which morality sets to intellect, +and only wrote music that has <q>no past.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>152.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Beethoven and Mozart.</hi>—Beethoven's music +often appears like a deeply emotional meditation +on unexpectedly hearing once more a piece long +thought to be forgotten, <q>Tonal Innocence</q>: it is +music about music. In the song of the beggar and +child in the street, in the monotonous airs of vagrant +Italians, in the dance of the village inn or in carnival +nights he discovers his melodies. He stores them +together like a bee, snatching here and there some +notes or a short phrase. To him these are hallowed +memories of <q>the better world,</q> like the ideas of +Plato.—Mozart stands in quite a different relation +to his melodies. He finds his inspiration not in +hearing music but in gazing at life, at the most +stirring life of southern lands. He was always +dreaming of Italy, when he was not there. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>153.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Recitative.</hi>—Formerly recitative was dry, but +now we live in the age of moist recitative. It has +fallen into the water, and the waves carry it whithersoever +they list. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>154.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><q>Cheerful</q> Music.</hi>—If for a long time we +have heard no music, it then goes like a heavy +southern wine all too quickly into the blood and +leaves behind it a soul dazed with narcotics, half-awake, +<pb n='269'/><anchor id='Pg269'/> +longing for sleep. This is particularly the +case with cheerful music, which inspires in us bitterness +and pain, satiety and home-sickness together, +and forces us to sip again and again as at +a sweetened draught of poison. The hall of gay, +noisy merriment then seems to grow narrow, the +light to lose its brightness and become browner. +At last we feel as if this music were penetrating +to a prison where a poor wretch cannot sleep for +home-sickness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>155.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Franz Schubert</hi>.—Franz Schubert, inferior as +an artist to the other great musicians, had nevertheless +the largest share of inherited musical wealth. +He spent it with a free hand and a kind heart, so +that for a few centuries musicians will continue to +<emph>nibble</emph> at his ideas and inspirations. In his works +we find a store of <emph>unused</emph> inventions; the greatness +of others will lie in making use of those inventions. +If Beethoven may be called the ideal listener for +a troubadour, Schubert has a right to be called the +ideal troubadour. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>156.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Modern Musical Execution</hi>.—Great tragic +or dramatic execution of music acquires its character +by imitating the gesture of the great sinner, such +as Christianity conceives and desires him: the slow-stepping, +passionately brooding man, distracted by +the agonies of conscience, now flying in terror, +now clutching with delight, now standing still in +despair—and all the other marks of great sinfulness. +<pb n='270'/><anchor id='Pg270'/> +Only on the Christian assumption that all +men are great sinners and do nothing but sin could +we justify the application of this style of execution +to <emph>all</emph> music. So far, music would be the reflection +of all the actions and impulses of man, and would +continually have to express by gestures the language +of the great sinner. At such a performance, +a listener who was not enough of a Christian to +understand this logic might indeed cry out in horror, +<q>For the love of Heaven, how did sin find its +way into music?</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>157.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Felix Mendelssohn.</hi>—Felix Mendelssohn's +music is the music of the good taste that enjoys +all the good things that have ever existed. It +always points behind. How could it have much +<q>in front,</q> much of a future?—But did he want +it to have a future? He possessed a virtue rare +among artists, that of gratitude without <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>arrière-pensée</foreign>. +This virtue, too, always points behind. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>158.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Mother of Arts.</hi>—In our sceptical age, real +devotion requires almost a brutal heroism of ambition. +Fanatical shutting of the eyes and bending +of the knee no longer suffice. Would it not be possible +for ambition—in its eagerness to be the last +devotee of all the ages—to become the begetter of a +final church music, as it has been the begetter of the +final church architecture? (They call it the Jesuit +style.) +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='271'/><anchor id='Pg271'/> + +<div> +<head>159.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Freedom in Fetters—a Princely Freedom.</hi>—Chopin, +the last of the modern musicians, who +gazed at and worshipped beauty, like Leopardi; +Chopin, the Pole, the inimitable (none that came +before or after him has a right to this name)—Chopin +had the same princely punctilio in convention +that Raphael shows in the use of the simplest +traditional colours. The only difference is that +Chopin applies them not to colour but to melodic +and rhythmic traditions. He admitted the validity +of these traditions because he was born under the +sway of etiquette. But in these fetters he plays and +dances as the freest and daintiest of spirits, and, be +it observed, he does not spurn the chain. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>160.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Chopin's Barcarolle.</hi>—Almost all states and +modes of life have a moment of rapture, and good +artists know how to discover that moment. Such +a moment there is even in life by the seashore—that +dreary, sordid, unhealthy existence, dragged out in +the neighbourhood of a noisy and covetous rabble. +This moment of rapture Chopin in his Barcarolle +expressed in sound so supremely that Gods themselves, +when they heard it, might yearn to lie long +summer evenings in a boat. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>161.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Robert Schumann.</hi>—<q>The Stripling,</q> as the +romantic songsters of Germany and France of the +<pb n='272'/><anchor id='Pg272'/> +first three decades of this century imagined him—this +stripling was completely translated into song +and melody by Robert Schumann, the eternal +youth, so long as he felt himself in full possession +of his powers. There are indeed moments when +his music reminds one of the eternal <q>old maid.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>162.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Dramatic Singers.</hi>—<q>Why does this beggar +sing?</q> <q>Probably he does not know how to wail.</q> +<q>Then he does right.</q> But our dramatic singers, +who wail because they do not know how to sing—are +they also in the right? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>163.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Dramatic Music.</hi>—For him who does not see +what is happening on the stage, dramatic music is +a monstrosity, just as the running commentary to +a lost text is a monstrosity. Such music requires +us to have ears where our eyes are. This, however, +is doing violence to Euterpe, who, poor Muse, wants +to have her eyes and ears where the other Muses +have theirs. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>164.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Victory and Reasonableness.</hi>—Unfortunately +in the æsthetic wars, which artists provoke +by their works and apologias for their works, just as +is the case in real war, it is might and not reason that +decides. All the world now assumes as a historical +fact that, in his dispute with Piccini, Gluck was in the +right. At any rate, he was victorious, and had might +on his side. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='273'/><anchor id='Pg273'/> + +<div> +<head>165.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Of the Principle of Musical Execution.</hi>—Do +the modern musical performers really believe +that the supreme law of their art is to give every +piece as much high-relief as is possible, and to make +it speak at all costs a dramatic language? Is not +this principle, when applied for example to Mozart, +a veritable sin against the spirit—the gay, sunny, +airy, delicate spirit—of Mozart, whose seriousness +was of a kindly and not awe-inspiring order, whose +pictures do not try to leap from the wall and drive +away the beholder in panic? Or do you think that +all Mozart's music is identical with the statue-music +in <hi rend='italic'>Don Juan</hi>? And not only Mozart's, but all +music?—You reply that the advantage of your +principle lies in its greater <emph>effect</emph>. You would be +right if there did not remain the counter-question, +<q><emph>On whom</emph> has the effect operated, and <emph>on whom</emph> +should an artist of the first rank desire to produce +his effect?</q> Never on the populace! Never on +the immature! Never on the morbidly sensitive! +Never on the diseased! And above all—never on +the <foreign rend='italic'>blasé</foreign>! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>166.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Music of To-Day.</hi>—This ultra-modern +music, with its strong lungs and weak nerves, is +frightened above all things of itself. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>167.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Where Music is at Home.</hi>—Music reaches its +high-water mark only among men who have not the +<pb n='274'/><anchor id='Pg274'/> +ability or the right to argue. Accordingly, its chief +promoters are princes, whose aim is that there should +be not much criticism nor even much thought in +their neighbourhood. Next come societies which, +under some pressure or other (political or religious), +are forced to become habituated to silence, and +so feel all the greater need of spells to charm away +emotional ennui—these spells being generally eternal +love-making and eternal music. Thirdly, we must +reckon whole nations in which there is no <q>society,</q> +but all the greater number of individuals with a +bent towards solitude, mystical thinking, and a reverence +for all that is inexpressible; these are the +genuine <q>musical souls.</q> The Greeks, as a nation +delighting in talking and argument, accordingly put +up with music only as an <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>hors d'œuvre</foreign> to those arts +which really admit of discussion and dispute. About +music one can hardly even <emph>think</emph> clearly. The Pythagoreans, +who in so many respects were exceptional +Greeks, are said to have been great musicians. This +was the school that invented a five-years' silence,<note place='foot'>In the sixth century <hi rend='smallcaps'>b.c.</hi> Pythagoras founded at Croton a +<q>school</q> somewhat resembling a monastic order. Among the +ordeals for novitiates was enforced silence for five years.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> +but did not invent a dialectic. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>168.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Sentimentality in Music.</hi>—We may be ever +so much in sympathy with serious and profound +music, yet nevertheless, or perhaps all the more for +that reason, we shall at occasional moments be overpowered, +entranced, and almost melted away by its +<pb n='275'/><anchor id='Pg275'/> +opposite—I mean, by those simple Italian operatic +airs which, in spite of all their monotony of rhythm +and childishness of harmony, seem at times to sing +to us like the very soul of music. Admit this or not +as you please, you Pharisees of good taste, it is so, +and it is my present task to propound the riddle +that it is so, and to nibble a little myself at the +solution.—In childhood's days we tasted the honey +of many things for the first time. Never was honey +so good as then; it seduced us to life, into abundant +life, in the guise of the first spring, the first flower, +the first butterfly, the first friendship. Then—perhaps +in our ninth year or so—we heard our first +music, and this was the first that we understood; +thus the simplest and most childish tunes, that were +not much more than a sequel to the nurse's lullaby +and the strolling fiddler's tune, were our first experience. +(For even the most trifling <q>revelations</q> of +art need preparation and study; there is no <q>immediate</q> +effect of art, whatever charming fables +the philosophers may tell.) Our sensation on hearing +these Italian airs is associated with those first +musical raptures, the strongest of our lives. The +bliss of childhood and its flight, the feeling that our +most precious possession can never be brought back, +all this moves the chords of the soul more strongly +than the most serious and profound music can move +them.—This mingling of æsthetic pleasure with moral +pain, which nowadays it is customary to call (rather +too haughtily, I think) <q>sentimentality</q>—it is the +mood of Faust at the end of the first scene—this +<q>sentimentality</q> of the listener is all to the advantage +of Italian music. It is a feeling which the experienced +<pb n='276'/><anchor id='Pg276'/> +connoisseurs in art, the pure <q>æsthetes,</q> like +to ignore.—Moreover, almost all music has a magical +effect only when we hear it speak the language of +our own <emph>past</emph>. Accordingly, it seems to the layman +that all the old music is continually growing better, +and that all the latest is of little value. For the latter +arouses no <q>sentimentality,</q> that most essential +element of happiness, as aforesaid, for every man +who cannot approach this art with pure æsthetic +enjoyment. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>169.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>As Friends of Music.</hi>—Ultimately we are and +remain good friends with music, as we are with the +light of the moon. Neither, after all, tries to supplant +the sun: they only want to illumine our nights +to the best of their powers. Yet we may jest and +laugh at them, may we not? Just a little, at least, +and from time to time? At the man in the moon, +at the woman in the music? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>170.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Art in an Age of Work.</hi>—We have the conscience +of an industrious epoch. This debars us +from devoting our best hours and the best part +of our days to art, even though that art be the +greatest and worthiest. Art is for us a matter of +leisure, of recreation, and we consecrate to it the +<emph>residue</emph> of our time and strength. This is the cardinal +fact that has altered the relation of art to life. +When art makes its great demands of time and +strength upon its recipients, it has to battle against +the conscience of the industrious and efficient, it is +<pb n='277'/><anchor id='Pg277'/> +relegated to the idle and conscienceless, who, by +their very nature, are not exactly suited to great +art, and consider its claims arrogant. It might, +therefore, be all over with art, since it lacks air and +the power to breathe. But perhaps the great art +attempts, by a sort of coarsening and disguising, to +make itself at home in that other atmosphere, or at +least to put up with it—an atmosphere which is really +a natural element only for petty art, the art of recreation, +of pleasant distraction. This happens nowadays +almost everywhere. Even the exponents of +great art promise recreation and distraction; even +they address themselves to the exhausted; even they +demand from him the evening hours of his working-day—just +like the artists of the entertaining school, +who are content to smooth the furrowed brow and +brighten the lack-lustre eye. What, then, are the +devices of their mightier brethren? These have in +their medicine-chests the most powerful excitants, +which might give a shock even to a man half-dead: +they can deafen you, intoxicate you, make you +shudder, or bring tears to your eyes. By this +means they overpower the exhausted man and +stimulate him for one night to an over-lively condition, +to an ecstasy of terror and delight. This +great art, as it now lives in opera, tragedy, and music—have +we a right to be angry with it, because of +its perilous fascination, as we should be angry with +a cunning courtesan? Certainly not. It would far +rather live in the pure element of morning calm, and +would far rather make its appeal to the fresh, expectant, +vigorous morning-soul of the beholder or +listener. Let us be thankful that it prefers living +<pb n='278'/><anchor id='Pg278'/> +thus to vanishing altogether. But let us also confess +that an era that once more introduces free and +complete high-days and holidays into life will have +no use for <emph>our</emph> great art. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>171.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Employees of Science and the Others.</hi>—Really +efficient and successful men of science might +be collectively called <q>The Employees.</q> If in youth +their acumen is sufficiently practised, their memory is +full, and hand and eye have acquired sureness, they +are appointed by an older fellow-craftsman to a +scientific position where their qualities may prove +useful. Later on, when they have themselves gained +an eye for the gaps and defects in their science, they +place themselves in whatever position they are needed. +These persons all exist for the sake of science. But +there are rarer spirits, spirits that seldom succeed +or fully mature—<q>for whose sake science exists</q>—at +least, in their view. They are often unpleasant, +conceited, or cross-grained men, but almost always +prodigies to a certain extent. They are neither +employees nor employers; they make use of what +those others have worked out and established, +with a certain princely carelessness and with little +and rare praise—just as if the others belonged +to a lower order of beings. Yet they possess +the same qualities as their fellow-workers, and +that sometimes in a less developed form. Moreover, +they have a peculiar limitation, from which +the others are free; this makes it impossible to +put them into a place and to see in them useful +tools. They can only live in their own air and on +<pb n='279'/><anchor id='Pg279'/> +their own soil. This limitation suggests to them +what elements of a science <q>are theirs</q>—in other +words, what they can carry home into their house +and atmosphere: they think that they are always +collecting their scattered <q>property.</q> If they are +prevented from building at their own nest, they +perish like shelterless birds. The loss of freedom +causes them to wilt away. If they show, like their +colleagues, a fondness for certain regions of science, +it is always only regions where the fruits and seeds +necessary to them can thrive. What do they care +whether science, taken as a whole, has untilled or +badly tilled regions? They lack all impersonal +interest in a scientific problem. As they are themselves +personal through and through, all their knowledge +and ideas are remoulded into a person, into +a living complexity, with its parts interdependent, +overlapping, jointly nurtured, and with a peculiar +atmosphere and scent as a whole.—Such natures, +with their system of personal knowledge, produce +the illusion that a science (or even the whole of +philosophy) is finished and has reached its goal. +The life in their system works this magic, which at +times has been fatal to science and deceptive to the +really efficient workers above described, and at other +times, when drought and exhaustion prevailed, has +acted as a kind of restorative, as if it were the air +of a cool, refreshing resting-place.—These men are +usually called <emph>philosophers</emph>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>172.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Recognition of Talent.</hi>—As I went through +the village of S., a boy began to crack his whip with +<pb n='280'/><anchor id='Pg280'/> +all his might—he had made great progress in this art, +and he knew it. I threw him a look of recognition—in +reality it hurt me cruelly. We do the same in +our recognition of many of the talents. We do good +to them when they hurt us. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>173.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Laughing and Smiling.</hi>—The more joyful and +assured the mind becomes, the more man loses the +habit of loud laughter. In compensation, there is +an intellectual smile continually bubbling up in him, +a sign of his astonishment at the innumerable concealed +delights of a good existence. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>174.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Talk of Invalids.</hi>—Just as in spiritual +grief we tear our hair, strike our foreheads, lacerate +our cheeks or even (like Œdipus) gouge our eyes +out, so against violent physical pain we call to our +aid a bitter, violent emotion, through the recollection +of slanderous and malignant people, through +the denigration of our future, through the sword-pricks +and acts of malice which we mentally direct +against the absent. And at times it is true that +one devil drives out another—but then we have the +other.—Hence a different sort of talk, tending to +alleviate pain, should be recommended invalids: +reflections upon the kindnesses and courtesies that +can be performed towards friend and foe. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>175.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mediocrity as a Mask.</hi>—Mediocrity is the +happiest mask which the superior mind can wear, +<pb n='281'/><anchor id='Pg281'/> +because it does not lead the great majority—that +is, the mediocre—to think that there is any disguise. +Yet the superior mind assumes the mask just for +their sake—so as not to irritate them, nay, often +from a feeling of pity and kindness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>176.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Patient.</hi>—The pine tree seems to listen, +the fir tree to wait, and both without impatience. +They do not give a thought to the petty human +being below who is consumed by his impatience +and his curiosity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>177.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Best Joker.</hi>—My favourite joke is the one +that takes the place of a heavy and rather hesitating +idea, and that at once beckons with its finger +and winks its eye. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>178.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Accessaries of all Reverence.</hi>—Wherever +the past is revered, the over-cleanly and over-tidy +people should not be admitted. Piety does not +feel content without a little dust, dirt, and dross. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>179.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Great Danger of Savants.</hi>—It is just +the most thorough and profound savants who are +in peril of seeing their life's goal set ever lower +and lower, and, with a feeling of this in their minds, +to become ever more discouraged and more unendurable +in the latter half of their lives. At first they +plunge into their science with spacious hopes and +set themselves daring tasks, the ends of which are +<pb n='282'/><anchor id='Pg282'/> +already anticipated by their imaginations. Then +there are moments as in the lives of the great +maritime discoverers—knowledge, presentiment, and +power raise each other higher and higher, until a new +shore first dawns upon the eye in the far distance. +But now the stern man recognises more and more +how important it is that the individual task of the +inquirer should be limited as far as possible, so +that it may be entirely accomplished and the intolerable +waste of force from which earlier periods +of science suffered may be avoided. In those days +everything was done ten times over, and then the +eleventh always had the last and best word. Yet +the more the savant learns and practises this art of +solving riddles in their entirety, the more pleasure +he finds in so doing. But at the same time his demands +upon what is here called <q>entirety</q> grow +more exacting. He sets aside everything that must +remain in this sense incomplete, he acquires a disgust +and an acute scent for the half-soluble—for +all that can only give a kind of certainty in a +general and indefinite form. His youthful plans +crumble away before his eyes. There remains +scarcely anything but a few little knots, in untying +which the master now takes his pleasure and +shows his strength. Then, in the midst of all this +useful, restless activity, he, now grown old, is suddenly +then often overcome by a deep misgiving, a +sort of torment of conscience. He looks upon +himself as one changed, as if he were diminished, +humbled, transformed into a dexterous <emph>dwarf</emph>; he +grows anxious as to whether mastery in small +matters be not a convenience, an escape from the +<pb n='283'/><anchor id='Pg283'/> +summons to greatness in life and form. But he cannot +pass <emph>beyond</emph> any longer—the time for that has +gone by. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>180.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Teachers in the Age of Books.</hi>—Now that +self-education and mutual education are becoming +more widespread, the teacher in his usual form must +become almost unnecessary. Friends eager to learn, +who wish to master some branch of knowledge together, +find in our age of books a shorter and more +natural way than <q>school</q> and <q>teachers.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>181.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Vanity as the Greatest Utility.</hi>—Originally +the strong individual uses not only Nature but +even societies and weaker individuals as objects of +rapine. He exploits them, so far as he can, and +then passes on. As he lives from hand to mouth, +alternating between hunger and superfluity, he kills +more animals than he can eat, and robs and maltreats +men more than is necessary. His manifestation +of power is at the same time one of revenge +against his cramped and worried existence. Furthermore, +he wishes to be held more powerful than he +is, and thus misuses opportunities; the accretion of +fear that he begets being an accretion of power. He +soon observes that he stands or falls not by what +he <emph>is</emph> but by what he is <emph>thought</emph> to be. Herein lies +the origin of vanity. The man of power seeks by +every means to increase others' faith in his power.—The +thralls who tremble before him and serve him +know, for their part, that they are worth just so +<pb n='284'/><anchor id='Pg284'/> +much as they appear to him to be worth, and so +they work with an eye to this valuation rather than +to their own self-satisfaction. We know vanity only +in its most weakened forms, in its idealisations and +its small doses, because we live in a late and very +emasculated state of society. Originally vanity is the +great utility, the strongest means of preservation. +And indeed vanity will be greater, the cleverer the +individual, because an increase in the belief in power +is easier than an increase in the power itself, but +only for him who has intellect or (as must be the +case under primitive conditions) who is cunning and +crafty. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>182.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Weather-Signs of Culture.</hi>—There are so +few decisive weather-signs of culture that we must +be glad to have at least one unfailing sign at hand +for use in house and garden. To test whether a +man belongs to us (I mean to the free spirits) or +not, we must test his sentiments regarding Christianity. +If he looks upon Christianity with other than +a critical eye, we turn our backs to him, for he brings +us impure air and bad weather.—It is no longer our +task to teach such men what a sirocco wind is. They +have Moses and the prophets of weather and of +enlightenment.<note place='foot'>In the German <foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Aufklärung</foreign> there is a play on the sense +<q>clearing up</q> (of weather) and <q>enlightenment.</q>—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> If they will not listen to these, +then—— +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>183.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>There is a Proper Time for Wrath and +Punishment.</hi>—Wrath and punishment are our inheritance +<pb n='285'/><anchor id='Pg285'/> +from the animals. Man does not become +of age until he has restored to the animals this gift +of the cradle.—Herein lies buried one of the mightiest +ideas that men can have, the idea of a progress of +all progresses.—Let us go forward together a few +millenniums, my friends! There is still reserved for +mankind a great deal of joy, the very scent of which +has not yet been wafted to the men of our day! +Indeed, we may promise ourselves this joy, nay +summon and conjure it up as a necessary thing, so +long as the development of human reason does not +stand still. Some day we shall no longer be reconciled +to the logical sin that lurks in all wrath and +punishment, whether exercised by the individual or +by society—some day, when head and heart have +learnt to live as near together as they now are far +apart. That they no longer stand so far apart as +they did originally is fairly palpable from a glance +at the whole course of humanity. The individual +who can review a life of introspective work will become +conscious of the <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>rapprochement</foreign> arrived at, with +a proud delight at the distance he has bridged, in +order that he may thereupon venture upon more +ample hopes. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>184.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Origin of Pessimists.</hi>—A snack of good food +often decides whether we are to look to the future +with hollow eye or in hopeful mood. The same +influence extends to the very highest and most +intellectual states. Discontent and reviling of the +world are for the present generation an inheritance +from starveling ancestors. Even in our artists and +<pb n='286'/><anchor id='Pg286'/> +poets we often notice that, however exuberant their +life, they are not of good birth, and have often, from +oppressed and ill-nourished ancestors, inherited in +their blood and brain much that comes out as the +subject and even the conscious colouring of their +work. The culture of the Greeks is a culture of men +of wealth, in fact, inherited wealth. For a few centuries +they lived better than we do (better in every sense, +in particular far more simply in food and drink). +Then the brain finally became so well-stored and +subtle, and the blood flowed so quickly, like a joyous, +clear wine, that the best in them came to light no +longer as gloomy, distorted, and violent, but full of +beauty and sunshine. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>185.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Of Reasonable Death.</hi>—Which is more reasonable, +to stop the machine when the works have done +the task demanded of them, or to let it run on until +it stands still of its own accord—in other words, is +destroyed? Is not the latter a waste of the cost of +upkeep, a misuse of the strength and care of those +who serve? Are men not here throwing away that +which would be sorely needed elsewhere? Is not a +kind of contempt of the machines propagated, in that +many of them are so uselessly tended and kept up?—I +am speaking of involuntary (natural) and voluntary +(reasonable) death. Natural death is independent +of all reason and is really an irrational death, in +which the pitiable substance of the shell determines +how long the kernel is to exist or not; in which, +accordingly, the stunted, diseased and dull-witted +<pb n='287'/><anchor id='Pg287'/> +jailer is lord, and indicates the moment at which +his distinguished prisoner shall die. Natural death +is the suicide of nature—in other words, the annihilation +of the most rational being through the most +irrational element that is attached thereto. Only +through religious illumination can the reverse appear; +for then, as is equitable, the higher reason +(God) issues its orders, which the lower reason has +to obey. Outside religious thought natural death +is not worth glorifying. The wise dispensation and +disposal of death belongs to that now quite incomprehensible +and immoral-sounding morality of the +future, the dawn of which it will be an ineffable delight +to behold. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>186.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Retrograde Influences.</hi>—All criminals force +society back to earlier stages of culture than that +in which they are placed for the time being. Their +influence is retrograde. Let us consider the tools +that society must forge and maintain for its defence: +the cunning detectives, the jailers, the hangmen. +Nor should we forget the public counsel for prosecution +and defence. Finally we may ask ourselves +whether the judge himself and punishment +and the whole legal procedure are not oppressive +rather than elevating in their reaction upon all who +are not law-breakers. For we shall never succeed +in arraying self-defence and revenge in the garb of +innocence, and so long as men are used and sacrificed +as a means to the end of society, all loftier +humanity will deplore this necessity. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='288'/><anchor id='Pg288'/> + +<div> +<head>187.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>War as a Remedy.</hi>—For nations that are growing +weak and contemptible war may be prescribed +as a remedy, if indeed they really want to go on +living. National consumption as well as individual +admits of a brutal cure. The eternal will to live +and inability to die is, however, in itself already a +sign of senility of emotion. The more fully and +thoroughly we live, the more ready we are to sacrifice +life for a single pleasurable emotion. A people +that lives and feels in this wise has no need of war. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>188.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Intellectual and Physical Transplantation +as Remedies.</hi>—The different cultures are so +many intellectual climates, every one of which is +peculiarly harmful or beneficial to this or that +organism. History as a whole, as the knowledge +of different cultures, is the science of remedies, but +not the science of the healing art itself. We still +need a physician who can make use of these +remedies, in order to send every one—temporarily +or permanently—to the climate that just suits +him. To live in the present, within the limits of a +single culture, is insufficient as a universal remedy: +too many highly useful kinds of men, who cannot +breathe freely in this atmosphere, would perish. +With the aid of history we must give them air and +try to preserve them: even men of lower cultures +have their value.—Add to this cure of intellects that +humanity, on considerations of bodily health, must +strive to discover by means of a medical geography +<pb n='289'/><anchor id='Pg289'/> +what kinds of degeneration and disease are caused +by each region of the earth, and conversely, what +ingredients of health the earth affords: and then, +gradually, nations, families, and individuals must be +transplanted long and permanently enough for them +to become masters of their inherited physical infirmities. +The whole world will finally be a series +of sanatoria. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>189.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Reason and the Tree of Mankind.</hi>—What +you all fear in your senile short-sightedness, regarding +the over-population of the world, gives the more +hopeful a mighty task. Man is some day to become +a tree overshadowing the whole earth, with millions +upon millions of buds that shall all grow to fruits +side by side, and the earth itself shall be prepared +for the nourishment of this tree. That the shoot, +tiny as yet, may increase in sap and strength; that +the sap may flow in countless channels for the +nutrition of the whole and the parts—from these +and similar tasks we must derive our standard for +measuring whether a man of to-day is useful or +worthless. The task is unspeakably great and adventurous: +let us all contribute our share to prevent +the tree from rotting before its time! The +historically trained mind will no doubt succeed in +calling up the human activities of all the ages before +its eyes, as the community of ants with its cunningly +wrought mounds stands before our eyes. Superficially +judged, mankind as a whole, like ant-kind, +might admit of our speaking of <q>instinct.</q> On a +closer examination we observe how whole nations, +<pb n='290'/><anchor id='Pg290'/> +nay whole centuries, take pains to discover and test +new means of benefiting the great mass of humanity, +and thus finally the great common fruit-tree of +the world. Whatever injury the individual nations +or periods may suffer in this testing process, they +have each become wise through this injury, and +from them the tide of wisdom slowly pours over +the principles of whole races and whole epochs. +Ants too go astray and make blunders. Through +the folly of its remedies, mankind may well go to +rack and ruin before the proper time. There is no +sure guiding instinct for the former or the latter. +Rather must we boldly face the great task of preparing +the earth for a plant of the most ample and +joyous fruitfulness—a task set by reason to reason! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>190.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Praise of Disinterestedness and its +Origin.</hi>—Between two neighbouring chieftains +there was a long-standing quarrel: they laid waste +each other's territories, stole cattle, and burnt down +houses, with an indecisive result on the whole, because +their power was fairly equal. A third, who +from the distant situation of his property was able +to keep aloof from these feuds, yet had reason to +dread the day when one of the two neighbours +should gain a decisive preponderance, at last intervened +between the combatants with ceremonial +goodwill. Secretly he lent a heavy weight to +his peace proposal by giving either to understand +that he would henceforth join forces with the other +against the one who strove to break the peace. +<pb n='291'/><anchor id='Pg291'/> +They met in his presence, they hesitatingly placed +into his hand the hands that had hitherto been the +tools and only too often the causes of hatred—and +then they really and seriously tried to keep the +peace. Either saw with astonishment how suddenly +his prosperity and his comfort increased; how he +now had as neighbour a dealer ready to buy and +sell instead of a treacherous or openly scornful +evil-doer; how even, in unforeseen troubles, they +could reciprocally save each other from distress, +instead of, as before, making capital out of this distress +of his neighbour and enhancing it to the highest +degree. It even seemed as if the human type had +improved in both countries, for the eyes had become +brighter, the forehead had lost its wrinkles; all now +felt confidence in the future—and nothing is more +advantageous for the souls and bodies of men than +this confidence. They saw each other every year +on the anniversary of the alliance, the chieftains as +well as their retinue, and indeed before the eyes of +the mediator, whose mode of action they admired +and revered more and more, the greater the profit +that they owed to him became. Then his mode of +action was called <emph>disinterested</emph>. They had looked +far too fixedly at the profit they had reaped themselves +hitherto to see anything more of their neighbour's +method of dealing than that his condition in +consequence of this had not altered so much as their +own; he had rather remained the same: and thus it +appeared that the former had not had his profit in +view. For the first time people said to themselves +that disinterestedness was a virtue. It is true +that in minor private matters similar circumstances +<pb n='292'/><anchor id='Pg292'/> +had arisen, but men only had eyes for this virtue +when it was depicted on the walls in a large script +that was legible to the whole community. Moral +qualities are not recognised as virtues, endowed +with names, held in esteem, and recommended as +worthy of acquisition until the moment when they +have <emph>visibly</emph> decided the happiness and destiny of +whole societies. For then the loftiness of sentiment +and the excitation of the inner creative forces +is in many so great, that offerings are brought to +this quality, offerings from the best of what each +possesses. At its feet the serious man lays his +seriousness, the dignified man his dignity, women +their gentleness, the young all the wealth of hope +and futurity that in them lies; the poet lends it +words and names, sets it marching in the procession +of similar beings, gives it a pedigree, and finally, as +is the way of artists, adores the picture of his fancy +as a new godhead—he even teaches others to adore. +Thus in the end, with the co-operation of universal +love and gratitude, a virtue becomes, like a statue, +a repository of all that is good and honourable, a +sort of temple and divine personage combined. It +appears thenceforward as an individual virtue, as +an absolute entity, which it was not before, and +exercises the power and privileges of a sanctified +super-humanity.—In the later days of Greece the +cities were full of such deified human abstractions +(if one may so call them). The nation, in its own +fashion, had set up a Platonic <q>Heaven of Ideas</q> +on earth, and I do not think that its inhabitants +were felt to be less alive than any of the old +Homeric divinities. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='293'/><anchor id='Pg293'/> + +<div> +<head>191.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Days of Darkness.</hi>—<q>Days of Darkness</q> is +the name given in Norway to the period when the +sun remains below the horizon the whole day long. +The temperature then falls slowly but continually.—A +fine simile for all thinkers for whom the sun of +the human future is temporarily eclipsed. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>192.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Philosophy of Luxury.</hi>—A garden, figs, +a little cheese, and three or four good friends—that +was the luxury of Epicurus. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>193.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Epochs of Life.</hi>—The real epochs of life +are those brief periods of cessation midway between +the rise and decline of a dominating idea or emotion. +Here once again there is satisfaction: all the rest is +hunger and thirst—or satiety. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>194.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Dreams.</hi>—Our dreams, if for once in a way they +succeed and are complete—generally a dream is a +bungled piece of work—are symbolic concatenations +of scenes and images in place of a narrative poetical +language. They paraphrase our experiences or +expectations or relations with poetic boldness and +definiteness, so that in the morning we are always +astonished at ourselves when we remember the +nature of our dream. In dreams we use up too +much artistry—and hence are often too poor in +artistry in the daytime. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='294'/><anchor id='Pg294'/> + +<div> +<head>195.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Nature and Science.</hi>—As in nature, so in +science the worse and less fertile soils are first +cultivated—because the means that science in its +early stages has at command are fairly sufficient for +this purpose. The working of the most fertile soils +requires an enormous, carefully developed, persevering +method, tangible individual results, and an +organised body of well-trained workers. All these +are found together only at a late stage.—Impatience +and ambition often grasp too early at these +most fertile soils, but the results are then from the +first null and void. In nature such losses would +usually be avenged by the starvation of the settlers. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>196.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Simple Life.</hi>—A simple mode of life is +nowadays difficult, requiring as it does far more reflection +and gift for invention than even very clever +people possess. The most honourable will perhaps +still say, <q>I have not the time for such lengthy +reflection. The simple life is for me too lofty a goal: +I will wait till those wiser than I have discovered +it.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>197.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Peaks and Needle-Points.</hi>—The poor fertility, +the frequent celibacy, and in general the sexual +coldness of the highest and most cultivated spirits, +as that of the classes to which they belong, is +essential in human economy. Intelligence recognises +and makes use of the fact that at an acme of +<pb n='295'/><anchor id='Pg295'/> +intellectual development the danger of a neurotic +offspring is very great. Such men are the peaks of +mankind—they ought no longer to run out into +needle-points. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>198.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>Natura non facit saltum.</foreign></hi>—However strongly +man may develop upwards and seem to leap from +one contradiction to another, a close observation +will reveal the dovetails where the new building +grows out of the old. This is the biographer's task: +he must reflect upon his subject on the principle +that nature takes no jumps. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>199.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Clean, but</hi>—He who clothes himself with +rags washed clean dresses cleanly, to be sure, but is +still ragged. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>200.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Solitary Speaks.</hi>—In compensation for +much disgust, disheartenment, boredom—such as +a lonely life without friends, books, duties, and +passions must involve—we enjoy those short spans +of deep communion with ourselves and with Nature. +He who fortifies himself completely against boredom +fortifies himself against himself too. He will never +drink the most powerful elixir from his own innermost +spring. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>201.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>False Renown.</hi>—I hate those so-called natural +beauties which really have significance only through +science, especially geographical science, but are insignificant +<pb n='296'/><anchor id='Pg296'/> +in an æsthetic sense: for example, the +view of Mont Blanc from Geneva. This is an insignificant +thing without the auxiliary mental joy of +science: the nearer mountains are all more beautiful +and fuller of expression, but <q>not nearly so high,</q> +adds that absurd depreciatory science. The eye +here contradicts science: how can it truly rejoice in +the contradiction? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>202.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Those that Travel for Pleasure.</hi>—Like +animals, stupid and perspiring, they climb mountains: +people forgot to tell them that there were +fine views on the way. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>203.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Too Much and Too Little.</hi>—Men nowadays +live too much and think too little. They have +hunger and dyspepsia together, and become thinner +and thinner, however much they eat. He who now +says <q>Nothing has happened to me</q> is a blockhead. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>204.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>End and Goal.</hi>—Not every end is the goal. +The end of a melody is not its goal, and yet if +a melody has not reached its end, it has also not +reached its goal. A parable. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>205.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Neutrality of Nature on a Grand Scale.</hi>—The +neutrality of Nature on a grand scale (in +<pb n='297'/><anchor id='Pg297'/> +mountain, sea, forest, and desert) is pleasing, but +only for a brief space. Afterwards we become impatient. +<q>Have they all nothing to say to <emph>us</emph>? +Do <emph>we</emph> not exist so far as they are concerned?</q> +There arises a feeling that a <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>lèse-majesté</foreign> is committed +against humanity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>206.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Forgetting our Purpose.</hi>—In a journey we +commonly forget its goal. Almost every vocation +is chosen and entered upon as means to an end, but +is continued as the ultimate end. Forgetting our +purpose is the most frequent form of folly. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>207.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Solar Orbit of an Idea.</hi>—When an idea is +just rising on the horizon, the soul's temperature is +usually very low. Gradually the idea develops in +warmth, and is hottest (that is to say, exerts its +greatest influence) when belief in the idea is already +on the wane. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>208.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How to have every Man against You.</hi>—If +some one now dared to say, <q>He that is not +for me is against me,</q> he would at once have all +against him.—This sentiment does credit to our era. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>209.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Being Ashamed of Wealth.</hi>—Our age endures +only a single species of rich men—those who are +<pb n='298'/><anchor id='Pg298'/> +ashamed of their wealth. If we hear it said of +any one that he is very rich, we at once feel a similar +sentiment to that experienced at the sight of a repulsively +swollen invalid, one suffering from diabetes +or dropsy. We must with an effort remember our +humanity, in order to go about with this rich man +in such a way that he does not notice our feeling of +disgust. But as soon as he prides himself at all on +his wealth, our feelings are mingled with an almost +compassionate surprise at such a high degree of +human unreason. We would fain raise our hands +to heaven and cry, <q>Poor deformed and overburdened +creature, fettered a hundredfold, to whom +every hour brings or may bring something unpleasant, +in whose frame twitches every event that +occurs in scores of countries, how can you make us +believe that you feel at ease in your position? If +you appear anywhere in public, we know that it +is a sort of running the gauntlet amid countless +glances that have for you only cold hate or importunity +or silent scorn. You may earn more +easily than others, but it is only a superfluous +earning, which brings little joy, and the guarding +of what you have earned is now, at any rate, a more +troublesome business than any toilsome process of +earning. You are continually suffering, because you +are continually losing. What avails it you that they +are always injecting you with fresh artificial blood? +That does not relieve the pain of those cupping-glasses +that are fixed, for ever fixed, on your neck!—But, +to be quite fair to you, it is difficult or perhaps +impossible for you <emph>not</emph> to be rich. You <emph>must</emph> guard, +you <emph>must</emph> earn more; the inherited bent of your +<pb n='299'/><anchor id='Pg299'/> +character is the yoke fastened upon you. But do +not on that account deceive us—be honestly and +visibly ashamed of the yoke you wear, as in your +soul you are weary and unwilling to wear it. This +shame is no disgrace.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>210.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Extravagant Presumptions.</hi>—There are men +so presumptuous that they can only praise a greatness +which they publicly admire by representing it +as steps and bridges that lead to themselves. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>211.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>On the Soil of Insult.</hi>—He who wishes to +deprive men of a conception is generally not +satisfied with refuting it and drawing out of it the +illogical worm that resides within. Rather, when +the worm has been killed, does he throw the whole +fruit as well into the mire, in order to make it +ignoble in men's sight and to inspire disgust. Thus +he thinks that he has found a means of making the +usual <q>third-day resurrection</q> of conceptions an +impossibility.—He is wrong, for on the very soil of +insult, in the midst of the filth, the kernel of the +conception soon produces new seeds.—The right +thing then, is not to scorn and bespatter what one +wishes finally to remove, but to lay it tenderly on +ice again and again, having regard to the fact that +conceptions are very tenacious of life. Here we +must act according to the maxim: <q>One refutation +is no refutation.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='300'/><anchor id='Pg300'/> + +<div> +<head>212.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Lot of Morality.</hi>—Since spiritual bondage +is being relaxed, morality (the inherited, traditional, +instinctive mode of action in accordance +with moral sentiments) is surely also on the decline. +This, however, is not the case with the individual +virtues, moderation, justice, repose; for the greatest +freedom of the conscious intellect leads at some +time, even unconsciously, back to these virtues, and +then enjoins their practice as expedient. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>213.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Fanatic of Distrust and His Surety.</hi>—<hi rend='italic'>The +Elder</hi>: You wish to make the tremendous +venture and instruct mankind in the great things? +What is your surety? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Pyrrho</hi>: It is this: I intend to warn men +against myself; I intend to confess all the defects of +my character quite openly, and reveal to the world +my hasty conclusions, my contradictions, and my +foolish blunders. <q>Do not listen to me,</q> I will say +to them, <q>until I have become equal to the meanest +among you, nay am even less than he. Struggle +against truth as long as you can, from your disgust +with her advocate. I shall be your seducer and +betrayer if you find in me the slightest glimmering +of respectability and dignity.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Elder</hi>: You promise too much; you cannot +bear this burden. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Pyrrho</hi>: Then I will tell men even that, and say +that I am too weak, and cannot keep my promise. +The greater my unworthiness, the more will they +<pb n='301'/><anchor id='Pg301'/> +mistrust the truth, when it passes through my +lips. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Elder</hi>: You propose to teach distrust of +truth? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Pyrrho</hi>: Yes; distrust as it never was yet on +earth, distrust of anything and everything. This +is the only road to truth. The right eye must not +trust the left eye, and for some time light must be +called darkness: this is the path that you must +tread. Do not imagine that it will lead you to +fruit trees and fair pastures. You will find on this +road little hard grains—these are truths. For +years and years you will have to swallow handfuls +of lies, so as not to die of hunger, although you +know that they are lies. But those grains will be +sown and planted, and perhaps, perhaps some day +will come the harvest. No one may <emph>promise</emph> that +day, unless he be a fanatic. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Elder</hi>: Friend, friend! Your words too are +those of a fanatic! +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Pyrrho</hi>: You are right! I will be distrustful of +all words. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Elder</hi>: Then you will have to be silent. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Pyrrho</hi>: I shall tell men that I have to be silent, +and that they are to mistrust my silence. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Elder</hi>: So you draw back from your undertaking? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Pyrrho</hi>: On the contrary—you have shown me +the door through which I must pass. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Elder</hi>: I don't know whether we yet completely +understand each other? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Pyrrho</hi>: Probably not. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Elder</hi>: If only you understand yourself! +</p> + +<pb n='302'/><anchor id='Pg302'/> + +<p> +(Pyrrho turns round and laughs.) +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Elder</hi>: Ah, friend! Silence and laughter—is +that now your whole philosophy? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Pyrrho</hi>: There might be a worse. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>214.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>European Books.</hi>—In reading Montaigne, La +Rochefoucauld, La Bruyère, Fontenelle (especially +the <hi rend='italic'>Dialogues des Morts</hi>), Vauvenargues, and Chamfort +we are nearer to antiquity than in any group +of six authors of other nations. Through these +six the spirit of the last centuries before Christ +has once more come into being, and they collectively +form an important link in the great and +still continuous chain of the Renaissance. Their +books are raised above all changes of national +taste and philosophical nuances from which as a +rule every book takes and must take its hue in +order to become famous. They contain more real +ideas than all the books of German philosophers +put together: ideas of the sort that breed ideas——I +am at a loss how to define to the end: enough to +say that they appear to me writers who wrote +neither for children nor for visionaries, neither for +virgins nor for Christians, neither for Germans nor +for—I am again at a loss how to finish my list. +To praise them in plain terms, I may say that +had they been written in Greek, they would have +been understood by Greeks. How much, on the +other hand, would even a Plato have understood +of the writings of our best German thinkers—Goethe +and Schopenhauer, for instance—to say nothing +of the repugnance that he would have felt to +<pb n='303'/><anchor id='Pg303'/> +their style, particularly to its obscure, exaggerated, +and occasionally dry-as-dust elements? And these +are defects from which these two among German +thinkers suffer least and yet far too much (Goethe +as thinker was fonder than he should have been +of embracing the cloud, and Schopenhauer almost +constantly wanders, not with impunity, among +symbols of objects rather than among the objects +themselves).—On the other hand, what clearness +and graceful precision there is in these Frenchmen! +The Greeks, whose ears were most refined, could +not but have approved of this art, and one quality +they would even have admired and reverenced—the +French verbal wit: they were extremely fond +of this quality, without being particularly strong +in it themselves. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>215.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Fashion and Modernity.</hi>—Wherever ignorance, +uncleanness, and superstition are still rife, +where communication is backward, agriculture poor, +and the priesthood powerful, national costumes are +still worn. Fashion, on the other hand, rules where +the opposite conditions prevail. Fashion is accordingly +to be found next to the virtues in modern +Europe. Are we to call it their seamy side?—Masculine +dress that is fashionable and no longer +national proclaims of its wearer: firstly, that he +does not wish to appear as an individual or as +member of a class or race; that he has made an +intentional suppression of these kinds of vanity a +law unto himself: secondly, that he is a worker, +and has little time for dressing and self-adornment, +<pb n='304'/><anchor id='Pg304'/> +and moreover regards anything expensive or luxurious +in material and cut as out of harmony with +his work: lastly, that by his clothes he indicates +the more learned and intellectual callings as +those to which he stands or would like to stand +nearest as a European—whereas such national +costumes as still exist would exhibit the occupations +of brigand, shepherd, and soldier as the most +desirable and distinguished. Within this general +character of masculine fashion exist the slight +fluctuations demanded by the vanity of young +men, the dandies and dawdlers of our great +cities—in other words, Europeans who have +not yet reached maturity.—European women are +as yet far less mature, and for this reason the +fluctuations with them are much greater. They +also will not have the national costume, and hate +to be recognised by their dress as German, French, +or Russian. They are, however, very desirous of +creating an impression as individuals. Then, too, +their dress must leave no one in doubt that they +belong to one of the more reputable classes of +society (to <q>good</q> or <q>high</q> or <q>great</q> society), +and on this score their pretensions are all the +greater if they belong scarcely or not at all to that +class. Above all, the young woman does not want +to wear what an older woman wears, because she +thinks she loses her market value if she is suspected +of being somewhat advanced in years. The older +woman, on the other hand, would like to deceive +the world as long as possible by a youthful garb. +From this competition must continually arise +temporary fashions, in which the youthful element +<pb n='305'/><anchor id='Pg305'/> +is unmistakably and inimitably apparent. But after +the inventive genius of the young female artists +has run riot for some time in such indiscreet revelations +of youth (or rather, after the inventive +genius of older, courtly civilisations and of still +existing peoples—in fact, of the whole world of +dress—has been pressed into the service, and, say, +the Spaniards, Turks, and ancient Greeks have been +yoked together for the glorification of fair flesh), +then they at last discover, time and again, that +they have not been good judges of their own interest; +that if they wish to have power over men, +the game of hide-and-seek with the beautiful body +is more likely to win than naked or half-naked +honesty. And then the wheel of taste and vanity +turns once more in an opposite direction. The +rather older young women find that their kingdom +has come, and the competition of the dear, absurd +creatures rages again from the beginning.—But the +more women advance mentally, and no longer +among themselves concede the pre-eminence to an +unripe age, the smaller their fluctuations of costume +grow and the less elaborate their adornment. A +just verdict in this respect must not be based on +ancient models—in other words, not on the standard +of the dress of women who dwell on the shores of +the Mediterranean—but must have an eye to the +climatic conditions of the central and northern +regions, where the intellectual and creative spirit +of Europe now finds its most natural home.—Generally +speaking, therefore, it is not change that +will be the characteristic mark of fashion and +modernity, for change is retrograde, and betokens +<pb n='306'/><anchor id='Pg306'/> +the still unripened men and women of Europe; but +rather the repudiation of national, social, and individual +vanity. Accordingly, it is commendable, +because involving a saving of time and strength, +if certain cities and districts of Europe think and +invent for all the rest in the matter of dress, in +view of the fact that a sense of form does not +seem to have been bestowed upon all. Nor is +it really an excessive ambition, so long as these +fluctuations still exist, for Paris, for example, to +claim to be the sole inventor and innovator in this +sphere. If a German, from hatred of these claims +on the part of a French city, wishes to dress differently,—as, +for example, in the Dürer style,—let +him reflect that he then has a costume which +the Germans of olden times wore, but which the +Germans have not in the slightest degree invented. +For there has never been a style of dress that +characterised the German as a German. Moreover, +let him observe how he looks in his costume, and +whether his altogether modern face, with all its hues +and wrinkles, does not raise a protest against a +Dürer fashion of dress.—Here, where the concepts +<q>modern</q> and <q>European</q> are almost identical, we +understand by <q>Europe</q> a far wider region than +is embraced by the Europe of geography, the little +peninsula of Asia. In particular, we must include +America, in so far as America is the daughter of +our civilisation. On the other hand, not all Europe +falls under the heading of cultured <q>Europe,</q> but +only those nations and divisions of nations which +have their common past in Greece, Rome, Judaism, +and Christianity. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='307'/><anchor id='Pg307'/> + +<div> +<head>216.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><q>German Virtue.</q></hi>—There is no denying that +from the end of the eighteenth century a current +of moral awakening flowed through Europe. Then +only Virtue found again the power of speech. She +learnt to discover the unrestrained gestures of exaltation +and emotion, she was no longer ashamed of +herself, and she created philosophies and poems for +her own glorification. If we look for the sources of +this current, we come upon Rousseau, but the mythical +Rousseau, the phantom formed from the impression +left by his writings (one might almost say again, his +mythically interpreted writings) and by the indications +that he provided himself. He and his public +constantly worked at the fashioning of this ideal +figure. The other origin lies in the resurrection of +the Stoical side of Rome's greatness, whereby the +French so nobly carried on the task of the Renaissance. +With striking success they proceeded from +the reproduction of antique forms to the reproduction +of antique characters. Thus they may always claim +a title to the highest honours, as the nation which has +hitherto given the modern world its best books and +its best men. How this twofold archetype, the +mythical Rousseau and the resurrected spirit of +Rome, affected France's weaker neighbours, is particularly +noticeable in Germany, which, in consequence +of her novel and quite unwonted impulse +to seriousness and loftiness in will and self-control, +finally came to feel astonishment at her own newfound +virtue, and launched into the world the concept +<q>German virtue,</q> as if this were the most +<pb n='308'/><anchor id='Pg308'/> +original and hereditary of her possessions. The first +great men who transfused into their own blood that +French impulse towards greatness and consciousness +of the moral will were more honest, and more grateful. +Whence comes the moralism of Kant? He is +continually reminding us: from Rousseau and the +revival of Stoic Rome. The moralism of Schiller +has the same source and the same glorification of +the source. The moralism of Beethoven in notes is +a continual song in praise of Rousseau, the antique +French, and Schiller. <q>Young Germany</q> was the +first to forget its gratitude, because in the meantime +people had listened to the preachers of hatred of +the French. The <q>young German</q> came to the fore +with more consciousness than is generally allowed +to youths. When he investigated his paternity, +he might well think of the proximity of Schiller, +Schleiermacher, and Fichte. But he should have +looked for his grandfathers in Paris and Geneva, +and it was very short-sighted of him to believe what +he believed: that virtue was not more than thirty +years old. People became used to demanding that +the word <q>German</q> should connote <q>virtue,</q> and +this process has not been wholly forgotten to +this day.—Be it observed further that this moral +awakening, as may almost be guessed, has resulted +only in drawbacks and obstacles to the <emph>recognition</emph> +of moral phenomena. What is the entire German +philosophy, starting from Kant, with all its French, +English, and Italian offshoots and by-products? A +semi-theological attack upon Helvetius, a rejection +of the slowly and laboriously acquired views and +signposts of the right road, which in the end he +<pb n='309'/><anchor id='Pg309'/> +collected and expressed so well. To this day Helvetius +is the best-abused of all good moralists and +good men in Germany. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>217.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Classic and Romantic.</hi>—Both classically and +romantically minded spirits—two species that always +exist—cherish a vision of the future; but the +former derive their vision from the strength of their +time, the latter from its weakness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>218.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Machine as Teacher.</hi>—Machinery teaches +in itself the dovetailed working of masses of men, +in activities where each has but one thing to do. It +is the model of party organisations and of warfare. +On the other hand, it does not teach individual self-glorification, +for it makes of the many a machine, +and of each individual a tool for one purpose. Its +most general effect is to teach the advantage of +centralisation. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>219.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Unable to Settle.</hi>—One likes to live in a +small town. But from time to time just this small +town drives us out into bare and lonely Nature, especially +when we think we know it too well. Finally, +in order to refresh ourselves from Nature, we go to +the big town. A few draughts from this cup and we +see its dregs, and the circle begins afresh, with the +small town as starting-point.—So the moderns live; +<pb n='310'/><anchor id='Pg310'/> +they are in all things rather too thorough to be able +to settle like the men of other days. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>220.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Reaction against the Civilisation of +Machinery.</hi>—The machine, itself a product of the +highest mental powers, sets in motion hardly any +but the lower, unthinking forces of the men who +serve it. True, it unfetters a vast quantity of force +which would otherwise lie dormant. But it does not +communicate the impulse to climb higher, to improve, +to become artistic. It creates activity and +monotony, but this in the long-run produces a +counter-effect, a despairing ennui of the soul, which +through machinery has learnt to hanker after the +variety of leisure. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>221.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Danger of Enlightenment.</hi>—All the +half-insane, theatrical, bestially cruel, licentious, and +especially sentimental and self-intoxicating elements +which go to form the true revolutionary substance, +and became flesh and spirit, before the +revolution, in Rousseau—all this composite being, +with factitious enthusiasm, finally set even <q>enlightenment</q> +upon its fanatical head, which thereby began +itself to shine as in an illuminating halo. Yet, enlightenment +is essentially foreign to that phenomenon, +and, if left to itself, would have pierced silently +through the clouds like a shaft of light, long content +to transfigure individuals alone, and thus only slowly +transfiguring national customs and institutions as +well. But now, bound hand and foot to a violent and +<pb n='311'/><anchor id='Pg311'/> +abrupt monster, enlightenment itself became violent +and abrupt. Its danger has therefore become almost +greater than its useful quality of liberation and illumination, +which it introduced into the great revolutionary +movement. Whoever grasps this will +also know from what confusion it has to be extricated, +from what impurities to be cleansed, in order +that it may then by itself continue the work of +enlightenment and also nip the revolution in the bud +and nullify its effects. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>222.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Passion in the Middle Ages.</hi>—The Middle +Ages are the period of great passions. Neither antiquity +nor our period possesses this widening of the +soul. Never was the capacity of the soul greater or +measured by larger standards. The physical, primeval +sensuality of the barbarian races and the over-soulful, +over-vigilant, over-brilliant eyes of Christian +mystics, the most childish and youthful and the +most over-ripe and world-weary, the savageness of +the beast of prey and the effeminacy and excessive +refinement of the late antique spirit—all these elements +were then not seldom united in one and the +same person. Thus, if a man was seized by a +passion, the rapidity of the torrent must have been +greater, the whirl more confused, the fall deeper +than ever before.—We modern men may be content +to feel that we have suffered a loss here. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>223.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Robbing and Saving.</hi>—All intellectual movements +whereby the great may hope to rob and the +<pb n='312'/><anchor id='Pg312'/> +small to save are sure to prosper. That is why, for +instance, the German Reformation made progress. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>224.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Gladsome Souls.</hi>—When even a remote hint +of drink, drunkenness, and an evil-smelling kind of +jocularity was given, the souls of the old Germans +waxed gladsome. Otherwise they were depressed, +but here they found something they really understood. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>225.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Debauchery at Athens.</hi>—Even when the fish-market +of Athens acquired its thinkers and poets, +Greek debauchery had a more idyllic and refined +appearance than Roman or German debauchery +ever had. The voice of Juvenal would have sounded +there like a hollow trumpet, and would have been +answered by a good-natured and almost childish +outburst of laughter. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>226.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Cleverness of the Greek.</hi>—As the desire for +victory and pre-eminence is an ineradicable trait of +human nature, older and more primitive than any +respect of or joy in equality, the Greek State sanctioned +gymnastic and artistic competitions among +equals. In other words, it marked out an arena +where this impulse to conquer would find a vent +without jeopardising the political order. With the +final decline of gymnastic and artistic contests the +Greek State fell into a condition of profound unrest +and dissolution. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='313'/><anchor id='Pg313'/> + +<div> +<head>227.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The <q>Eternal Epicurus.</q></hi>—Epicurus has +lived in all periods, and lives yet, unbeknown to +those who called and still call themselves Epicureans, +and without repute among philosophers. He has +himself even forgotten his own name—that was the +heaviest luggage that he ever cast off. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>228.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Style of Superiority.</hi>—<q>University +slang,</q> the speech of the German students, has its +origin among the students who do not study. The +latter know how to acquire a preponderance over +their more serious fellows by exposing all the farcical +elements of culture, respectability, erudition, order, +and moderation, and by having words taken from +these realms always on their lips, like the better +and more learned students, but with malice in their +glance and an accompanying grimace. This language +of superiority—the only one that is original +in Germany—is nowadays unconsciously used by +statesmen and newspaper critics as well. It is a +continual process of ironical quotation, a restless, +cantankerous squinting of the eye right and left, a +language of inverted commas and grimaces. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>229.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Recluse.</hi>—We retire into seclusion, but not +from personal misgivings, as if the political and +social conditions of the day did not satisfy us; +rather because by our retirement we try to save and +<pb n='314'/><anchor id='Pg314'/> +collect forces which will some day be urgently +needed by culture, the more this present is <emph>this +present</emph>, and, as such, fulfils its task. We form a +capital and try to make it secure, but, as in times +of real danger, our method is to bury our hoard. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>230.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tyrants of the Intellect.</hi>—In our times, +any one who expressed a single moral trait so +thoroughly as the characters of Theophrastus and +Molière do, would be considered ill, and be spoken +of as possessing <q>a fixed idea.</q> The Athens of the +third century, if we could visit it, would appear +to us populated by fools. Nowadays the democracy +of ideas rules in every brain—there the multitude +collectively is lord. A single idea that tried +to be lord is now called, as above stated, <q>a fixed +idea.</q> This is our method of murdering tyrants—we +hint at the madhouse. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>231.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Most Dangerous Emigration.</hi>—In Russia +there is an emigration of the intelligence. People +cross the frontier in order to read and write good +books. Thus, however, they are working towards +turning their country, abandoned by the intellect, +into a gaping Asiatic maw, which would fain +swallow our little Europe. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>232.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Political Fools.</hi>—The almost religious love of +the king was transferred by the Greeks, when the +<pb n='315'/><anchor id='Pg315'/> +monarchy was abolished, to the <foreign lang='el' rend='italic'>polis</foreign>. An idea can +be loved more than a person, and does not thwart +the lover so often as a beloved human being (for +the more men know themselves to be loved, the +less considerate they usually become, until they are +no longer worthy of love, and a rift really arises). +Hence the reverence for State and <foreign lang='el' rend='italic'>polis</foreign> was greater +than the reverence for princes had ever been. The +Greeks are the political fools of ancient history—today +other nations boast that distinction. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>233.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Against Neglect of the Eyes.</hi>—Might one +not find among the cultured classes of England, +who read the <hi rend='italic'>Times</hi>, a decline in their powers of +sight every ten years? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>234.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Great Works and Great Faith.</hi>—One man +had great works, but his comrade had great faith +in these works. They were inseparable, but obviously +the former was entirely dependent upon the +latter. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>235.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Sociable Man.</hi>—<q>I don't get on well with +myself,</q> said some one in explanation of his fondness +for society. <q>Society has a stronger digestion than +I have, and can put up with me.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>236.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Shutting the Mind's Eyes.</hi>—If we are practised +and accustomed to reflect upon our actions, +<pb n='316'/><anchor id='Pg316'/> +we must nevertheless close the inner eye while performing +an action (be this even only writing letters +or eating or drinking). Even in conversation with +average people we must know how to obscure our +own mental vision in order to attain and grasp +average thinking. This shutting of the eyes is a +conscious act and can be achieved by the will. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>237.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Most Terrible Revenge.</hi>—If we wish to +take a thorough revenge upon an opponent, we +must wait until we have our hand quite full of truths +and equities, and can calmly use the whole lot against +him. Hence the exercise of revenge may be identified +with the exercise of equity. It is the most +terrible kind of revenge, for there is no higher +court to which an appeal can be made. Thus did +Voltaire revenge himself on Piron, with five lines +that sum up Piron's whole life, work, and character: +every word is a truth. So too he revenged himself +upon Frederick the Great in a letter to him from +Ferney. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>238.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Taxes of Luxury.</hi>—In shops we buy the most +necessary and urgent things, and have to pay very +dear, because we pay as well for what is also to be +had there cheap, but seldom finds a customer—articles +of luxury that minister to pleasure. Thus +luxury lays a constant tax upon the man of simple +life who does without luxuries. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='317'/><anchor id='Pg317'/> + +<div> +<head>239.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Why Beggars still Live.</hi>—If all alms were +given only out of compassion, the whole tribe of +beggars would long since have died of starvation. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>240.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Why Beggars still Live.</hi>—The greatest of +almsgivers is cowardice. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>241.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How the Thinker Makes Use of a Conversation.</hi>—Without +being eavesdroppers, we can hear +a good deal if we are able to see well, and at the +same time to let ourselves occasionally get out of +our own sight. But people do not know how to +make use of a conversation. They pay far too much +attention to what <emph>they</emph> want to say and reply, whereas +the true listener is often contented to make a +provisional answer and to say something merely as +a payment on account of politeness, but on the other +hand, with his memory lurking in ambush, carries +away with him all that the other said, together with +his tones and gestures in speaking.—In ordinary +conversation every one thinks <emph>he</emph> is the leader, just +as if two ships, sailing side by side and giving each +other a slight push here and there, were each firmly +convinced that the other ship was following or even +being towed. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>242.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Art of Excusing Oneself.</hi>—If some one +excuses himself to us, he has to make out a very +<pb n='318'/><anchor id='Pg318'/> +good case, otherwise we readily come to feel ourselves +the culprits, and experience an unpleasant +emotion. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>243.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Impossible Intercourse.</hi>—The ship of your +thoughts goes too deep for you to be able to travel +with it in the waters of these friendly, decorous, +obliging people. There are too many shallows and +sandbanks: you would have to tack and turn, and +would find yourself continually at your wits' end, +and they would soon also be in perplexity as to +<emph>your</emph> perplexity, the reason for which they cannot +divine. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>244.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Fox of Foxes.</hi>—A true fox not only calls +sour the grapes he cannot reach, but also those he +has reached and snatched from the grasp of others. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>245.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>In Intimate Intercourse.</hi>—However closely +men are connected, there are still all the four +quarters of the heavens in their common horizon, +and at times they become aware of this fact. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>246.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Silence of Disgust.</hi>—Behold! some one +undergoes a thorough and painful transformation +as thinker and human being, and makes a public +avowal of the change. And those who hear him +see nothing, and still believe he is the same as +before! This common experience has already disgusted +<pb n='319'/><anchor id='Pg319'/> +many writers. They had rated the intellectuality +of mankind too highly, and made a vow +to be silent as soon as they became aware of their +mistake. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>247.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Business Seriousness.</hi>—The business of many +rich and eminent men is their form of recreation +from too long periods of habitual leisure. They then +become as serious and impassioned as other people +do in their rare moments of leisure and amusement. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>248.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Eye's Double Sense.</hi>—Just as a sudden +scaly ripple runs over the waters at your feet, so +there are similar sudden uncertainties and ambiguities +in the human eye. They lead to the question: +is it a shudder, or a smile, or both? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>249.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Positive and Negative.</hi>—This thinker needs +no one to refute him—he is quite capable of doing +that himself. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>250.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Revenge of the Empty Nets.</hi>—Above +all we should beware of those who have the bitter +feeling of the fisherman who after a hard day's work +comes home in the evening with nets empty. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>251.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Non-Assertion of our Rights.</hi>—The exertion +of power is laborious and demands courage. That +<pb n='320'/><anchor id='Pg320'/> +is why so many do not assert their most valid rights, +because their rights are a kind of power, and they +are too lazy or too cowardly to exercise them. <emph>Indulgence</emph> +and <emph>patience</emph> are the names given to the +virtues that cloak these faults. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>252.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Bearers of Light.</hi>—In Society there would be +no sunshine if the born flatterers (I mean the so-called +amiable people) did not bring some in with +them. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>253.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>When most Benevolent.</hi>—When a man has +been highly honoured and has eaten a little, he is +most benevolent. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>254.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To the Light.</hi>—Men press forward to the light +not in order to see better but to shine better.—The +person before whom we shine we gladly allow to +be called a light. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>255.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Hypochondriac.</hi>—The hypochondriac is a +man who has just enough intellect and pleasure in +the intellect to take his sorrows, his losses, and his +mistakes seriously. But the field on which he grazes +is too small: he crops it so close that in the end he +has to look for single stalks. Thus he finally becomes +envious and avaricious—and only then is he +unbearable. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>256.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Giving in Return.</hi>—Hesiod advises us to give +the neighbour who has helped us good measure and, +<pb n='321'/><anchor id='Pg321'/> +if possible, fuller measure in return, as soon as we +have the power. For this is where the neighbour's +pleasure comes in, since his former benevolence brings +him interest. Moreover, he who gives in return also +has his pleasure, inasmuch as, by giving a little +more than he got, he redeems the slight humiliation +of being compelled to seek aid. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>257.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>More subtle than Is Necessary.</hi>—Our sense +of observation for how far others perceive our weaknesses +is far more subtle than our sense of observation +for the weaknesses of others. It follows that +the first-named sense is more subtle than is necessary. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>258.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Kind of Bright Shadows.</hi>—Close to the +nocturnal type of man we almost regularly find, as +if bound up with him, a bright soul. This is, as it +were, the negative shadow cast by the former. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>259.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Not to take Revenge.</hi>—There are so many +subtle sorts of revenge that one who has occasion +to take revenge can really do or omit to do what he +likes. In any case, the whole world will agree, after +a time, that he <emph>has</emph> avenged himself. Hence the +avoidance of revenge is hardly within man's power. +He must not even so much as say that he does not +<emph>want</emph> to do so, since the contempt for revenge is +interpreted and felt as a sublime and exquisite form +of revenge.—It follows that we must do nothing +superfluous. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='322'/><anchor id='Pg322'/> + +<div> +<head>260.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Mistake of Those who Pay Homage.</hi>—Every +one thinks he is paying a most agreeable compliment +to a thinker when he says that he himself +hit upon exactly the same idea and even upon the +same expression. The thinker, however, is seldom +delighted at hearing such news, nay, rather, he often +becomes distrustful of his own thoughts and expressions. +He silently resolves to revise both some +day. If we wish to pay homage to any one, we +must beware of expressing our agreement, for this +puts us on the same level.—Often it is a matter of +social tact to listen to an opinion as if it were not +ours or even travelled beyond the limits of our own +horizon—as, for example, when an old man once in +a while opens the storehouse of his acquired knowledge. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>261.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Letters.</hi>—A letter is an unannounced visit, and +the postman is the intermediary of impolite surprises. +Every week we ought to have one hour for receiving +letters, and then go and take a bath. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>262.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Prejudiced.</hi>—Some one said: I have been prejudiced +against myself from childhood upwards, and +hence I find some truth in every censure and some +absurdity in every eulogy. Praise I generally value +too low and blame too high. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='323'/><anchor id='Pg323'/> + +<div> +<head>263.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Path to Equality.</hi>—A few hours of +mountain-climbing make a blackguard and a saint +two rather similar creatures. Weariness is the +shortest path to equality and fraternity—and finally +liberty is bestowed by sleep. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>264.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Calumny.</hi>—If we begin to trace to its source a +real scandalous misrepresentation, we shall rarely +look for its origin in our honourable and straightforward +enemies; for if they invented anything of +the sort about us, they, as being our enemies, would +gain no credence. Those, however, to whom for +a time we have been most useful, but who, from +some reason or other, may be secretly sure that they +will obtain no more from us—such persons are in a +position to start the ball of slander rolling. They +gain credence, firstly, because it is assumed that they +would invent nothing likely to do them damage; +secondly, because they have learnt to know us +intimately.—As a consolation, the much-slandered +man may say to himself: Calumnies are diseases of +others that break out in your body. They prove +that Society is a (moral) organism, so that you can +prescribe to <emph>yourself</emph> the cure that will in the end be +useful to others. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>265.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Child's Kingdom of Heaven.</hi>—The +happiness of a child is as much of a myth as the +happiness of the Hyperboreans of whom the Greeks +<pb n='324'/><anchor id='Pg324'/> +fabled. The Greeks supposed that, if indeed happiness +dwells anywhere on our earth, it must certainly +dwell as far as possible from us, perhaps over yonder +at the edge of the world. Old people have the same +thought—if man is at all capable of being happy, +he must be happy as far as possible from our age, +at the frontiers and beginnings of life. For many +a man the sight of children, through the veil of this +myth, is the greatest happiness that he can feel. He +enters himself into the forecourt of heaven when +he says, <q>Suffer the little children to come unto +me, for of them is the kingdom of heaven.</q> The +myth of the child's kingdom of heaven holds good, +in some way or other, wherever in the modern +world some sentimentality exists. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>266.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Impatient.</hi>—It is just the growing man +who does not want things in the growing stage. +He is too impatient for that. The youth will not +wait until, after long study, suffering, and privation, +his picture of men and things is complete. Accordingly, +he confidently accepts another picture +that lies ready to his hand and is recommended to +him, and pins his faith to that, as if it must give +him at once the lines and colours of his own painting. +He presses a philosopher or a poet to his +bosom, and must from that time forth perform long +stretches of forced labour and renounce his own +self. He learns much in the process, but he often +forgets what is most worth learning and knowing—his +self. He remains all his life a partisan. +<pb n='325'/><anchor id='Pg325'/> +Ah, a vast amount of tedious work has to be done +before you find your own colours, your own brush, +your own canvas!—Even then you are very far +from being a master in the art of life, but at least +you are the boss in your own workshop. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>267.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>There are no Teachers.</hi>—As thinkers we +ought only to speak of self-teaching. The instruction +of the young by others is either an experiment +performed upon something as yet unknown and +unknowable, or else a thorough levelling process, +in order to make the new member of society conform +to the customs and manners that prevail for +the time being. In both cases the result is accordingly +unworthy of a thinker—the handiwork of +parents and teachers, whom some valiantly honest +person<note place='foot'>Stendhal.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> has called <q><foreign rend='italic'>nos ennemis naturels</foreign>.</q> One +day, when, as the world thinks, we have long since +finished our education, we <emph>discover ourselves</emph>. Then +begins the task of the thinker, and then is the time +to summon him to our aid—not as a teacher, but +as a self-taught man who has experience. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>268.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Sympathy with Youth.</hi>—We are sorry when +we hear that some one who is still young is losing +his teeth or growing blind. If we knew all the irrevocable +and hopeless feelings hidden in his whole +being, how great our sorrow would be! Why do +<pb n='326'/><anchor id='Pg326'/> +we really suffer on this account? Because youth +has to continue the work we have undertaken, and +every flaw and failing in its strength is likely to +injure <emph>our</emph> work, that will fall into its hands. It is +the sorrow at the imperfect guarantee of our immortality: +or, if we only feel ourselves as executors +of the human mission, it is the sorrow that this +mission must pass to weaker hands than ours. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>269.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Ages of Life.</hi>—The comparison of the +four ages of life with the four seasons of the year +is a venerable piece of folly. Neither the first +twenty nor the last twenty years of a life correspond +to a season of the year, assuming that we are not +satisfied with drawing a parallel between white hair +and snow and similar colour-analogies. The first +twenty years are a preparation for life in general, +for the whole year of life, a sort of long New Year's +Day. The last twenty review, assimilate, bring into +union and harmony all that has been experienced +till then: as, in a small degree, we do on every +New Year's Eve with the whole past year. But in +between there really lies an interval which suggests +a comparison with the seasons—the time from the +twentieth to the fiftieth year (to speak here of decades +in the lump, while it is an understood thing +that every one must refine for himself these rough +outlines). Those three decades correspond to three +seasons—summer, spring, and autumn. Winter +human life has none, unless we like to call the (unfortunately) +often intervening hard, cold, lonely, +<pb n='327'/><anchor id='Pg327'/> +hopeless, unfruitful periods of disease the winters +of man. The twenties, hot, oppressive, stormy, +impetuous, exhausting years, when we praise the +day in the evening, when it is over, as we wipe the +sweat from our foreheads—years in which work +seems to us cruel but necessary—these twenties are +the summer of life. The thirties, on the other hand, +are its spring-time, with the air now too warm, now +too cold, ever restless and stimulating, bubbling sap, +bloom of leaves, fragrance of buds everywhere, many +delightful mornings and evenings, work to which the +song of birds awakens us, a true work of the heart, +a kind of joy in our own robustness, strengthened +by the savour of hopeful anticipation. Lastly the +forties, mysterious like all that is stationary, like a +high, broad plateau, traversed by a fresh breeze, with +a clear, cloudless sky above it, which always has the +same gentle look all day and half the night—the +time of harvest and cordial gaiety—that is the +autumn of life. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>270.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Women's Intellect in Modern Society.</hi>—What +women nowadays think of men's intellect +may be divined from the fact that in their art of +adornment they think of anything but of emphasising +the intellectual side of their faces or their +single intellectual features. On the contrary, they +conceal such traits, and understand, for example +by an arrangement of their hair over their forehead, +how to give themselves an appearance of vivid, +eager sensuality and materialism, just when they +but slightly possess those qualities. Their conviction +<pb n='328'/><anchor id='Pg328'/> +that intellect in women frightens men goes so +far that they even gladly deny the keenness of the +most intellectual sense and purposely invite the +reputation of short-sightedness. They think they +will thereby make men more confiding. It is as if a +soft, attractive twilight were spreading itself around +them. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>271.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Great and Transitory.</hi>—What moves the observer +to tears is the rapturous look of happiness +with which a fair young bride gazes upon her +husband. We feel all the melancholy of autumn +in thinking of the greatness and of the transitoriness +of human happiness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>272.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Sense and Sacrifice.</hi>—Many a woman has the +<foreign lang='it' rend='italic'>intelletto del sacrifizio</foreign>,<note place='foot'>A transposition of <foreign lang='it' rend='italic'>sacrifizio dell' intelletto</foreign>, the Jesuit +maxim.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> and no longer enjoys life +when her husband refuses to sacrifice her. With +all her wit, she then no longer knows—whither? +and without perceiving it, is changed from sacrificial +victim to sacrificial priest. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>273.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Unfeminine.</hi>—<q>Stupid as a man,</q> say the +women; <q>Cowardly as a woman,</q> say the men. +Stupidity in a woman is unfeminine. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>274.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Masculine and Feminine Temperament and +Mortality.</hi>—That the male sex has a worse +<pb n='329'/><anchor id='Pg329'/> +temperament than the female follows from the fact +that male children have a greater mortality than +female, clearly because they <q>leap out of their +skins</q> more easily. Their wildness and unbearableness +soon make all the bad stuff in them deadly. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>275.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Age of Cyclopean Building.</hi>—The democratisation +of Europe is a resistless force. Even +he who would stem the tide uses those very means +that democratic thought first put into men's hands, +and he makes these means more handy and workable. +The most inveterate enemies of democracy +(I mean the spirits of upheaval) seem only to exist +in order, by the fear that they inspire, to drive forward +the different parties faster and faster on the +democratic course. Now we may well feel sorry +for those who are working consciously and honourably +for this future. There is something dreary and +monotonous in their faces, and the grey dust seems +to have been wafted into their very brains. Nevertheless, +posterity may possibly some day laugh at +our anxiety, and see in the democratic work of several +generations what we see in the building of stone +dams and walls—an activity that necessarily covers +clothes and face with a great deal of dust, and +perhaps unavoidably makes the workmen, too, a +little dull-witted; but who would on that account +desire such work undone? It seems that the democratisation +of Europe is a link in the chain of +those mighty prophylactic principles which are the +thought of the modern era, and whereby we rise up +<pb n='330'/><anchor id='Pg330'/> +in revolt against the Middle Ages. Now, and now +only, is the age of Cyclopean building! A final +security in the foundations, that the future may +build on them without danger! Henceforth, an +impossibility of the orchards of culture being once +more destroyed overnight by wild, senseless mountain +torrents! Dams and walls against barbarians, +against plagues, against physical and spiritual serfdom! +And all this understood at first roughly and +literally, but gradually in an ever higher and more +spiritual sense, so that all the principles here indicated +may appear as the intellectual preparation of +the highest artist in horticulture, who can only apply +himself to his own task when the other is fully accomplished!—True, +if we consider the long intervals +of time that here lie between means and end, the +great, supreme labour, straining the powers and +brains of centuries, that is necessary in order to +create or to provide each individual means, we must +not bear too hardly upon the workers of the present +when they loudly proclaim that the wall and the +fence are already the end and the final goal. After +all, no one yet sees the gardener and the fruit, for +whose sake the fence exists. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>276.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Right of Universal Suffrage.</hi>—The +people has not granted itself universal suffrage but, +wherever this is now in force, it has received and +accepted it as a temporary measure. But in any +case the people has the right to restore the gift, if +it does not satisfy its anticipations. This dissatisfaction +<pb n='331'/><anchor id='Pg331'/> +seems universal nowadays, for when, at any +occasion where the vote is exercised, scarce two-thirds, +nay perhaps not even the majority of all +voters, go to the polls, that very fact is a vote against +the whole suffrage system.—On this point, in fact, +we must pronounce a much sterner verdict. A law +that enacts that the majority shall decide as to the +welfare of all cannot be built up on the foundation +that it alone has provided, for it is bound to require +a far broader foundation, namely the unanimity of +all. Universal suffrage must not only be the expression +of the will of a majority, but of the whole country. +Thus the dissent of a very small minority is already +enough to set aside the system as impracticable; +and the abstention from voting is in fact a dissent +of this kind, which ruins the whole institution. The +<q>absolute veto</q> of the individual, or—not to be too +minute—the veto of a few thousands, hangs over the +system as the consequence of justice. On every occasion +when it is employed, the system must, according +to the variety of the division, first prove that it +has still a right to exist. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>277.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>False Conclusions.</hi>—What false conclusions +are drawn in spheres where we are not at home, +even by those of us who are accustomed as men of +science to draw right conclusions! It is humiliating! +Now it is clear that in the great turmoil of +worldly doings, in political affairs, in all sudden and +urgent matters such as almost every day brings up, +these false conclusions must decide. For no one +<pb n='332'/><anchor id='Pg332'/> +feels at home with novelties that have sprung up in +the night. All political work, even with great statesmen, +is an improvisation that trusts to luck. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>278.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Premisses of the Age of Machinery.</hi>—The +press, the machine, the railway, the telegraph are +premisses of which no one has yet dared to draw +the conclusions that will follow in a thousand years. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>279.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Drag upon Culture.</hi>—When we are told that +here men have no time for productive occupations, +because military manœuvres and processions take +up their days, and the rest of the population must +feed and clothe them, their dress, however, being +striking, often gay and full of absurdities; that there +only a few distinguished qualities are recognised, +individuals resemble each other more than elsewhere, +or at any rate are treated as equals, yet obedience +is exacted and yielded without reasoning, for men +command and make no attempt to convince; that +here punishments are few, but these few cruel and +likely to become the final and most terrible; that +there treason ranks as the capital offence, and even +the criticism of evils is only ventured on by the most +audacious; that there, again, human life is cheap, +and ambition often takes the form of setting life in +danger—when we hear all this, we at once say, <q>This +is a picture of a barbarous society that rests on a +hazardous footing.</q> One man perhaps will add, <q>It +is a portrait of Sparta.</q> But another will become +<pb n='333'/><anchor id='Pg333'/> +meditative and declare that this is a description of +our modern military system, as it exists in the midst +of our altogether different culture and society, a +living anachronism, the picture, as above said, of a +community resting on a hazardous footing; a posthumous +work of the past, which can only act as a +drag upon the wheels of the present.—Yet at times +even a drag upon culture is vitally necessary—that +is to say, when culture is advancing too rapidly +downhill or (as perhaps in this case) <emph>uphill</emph>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>280.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>More Reverence for Them that Know.</hi>—In +the competition of production and sale the public +is made judge of the product. But the public has +no special knowledge, and judges by the appearance +of the wares. In consequence, the art of appearance +(and perhaps the taste for it) must increase under the +dominance of competition, while on the other hand +the quality of every product must deteriorate. The +result will be—so far as reason does not fall in value—that +one day an end will be put to that competition, +and a new principle will win the day. Only +the master of the craft should pronounce a verdict +on the work, and the public should be dependent on +the belief in the personality of the judge and his +honesty. Accordingly, no anonymous work! At +least an expert should be there as guarantor and +pledge his name if the name of the creator is lacking +or is unknown. The cheapness of an article +is for the layman another kind of illusion and deceit, +since only durability can decide that a thing +<pb n='334'/><anchor id='Pg334'/> +is cheap and to what an extent. But it is difficult, +and for a layman impossible, to judge of its durability.—Hence +that which produces an effect on the +eye and costs little at present gains the advantage—this +being naturally machine-made work. Again, +machinery—that is to say, the cause of the greatest +rapidity and facility in production—favours the most +saleable kind of article. Otherwise it involves no +tangible profit; it would be too little used and +too often stand idle. But as to what is most saleable, +the public, as above said, decides: it must be +the most exchangeable—in other words, the thing +that appears good and also appears cheap. Thus +in the domain of labour our motto must also hold +good: <q>More respect for them that know!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>281.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Danger of Kings.</hi>—Democracy has it in +its power, without any violent means, and only by +a lawful pressure steadily exerted, to make kingship +and emperorship hollow, until only a zero remains, +perhaps with the significance of every zero in that, +while nothing in itself, it multiplies a number tenfold +if placed on the right side. Kingship and emperorship +would remain a gorgeous ornament upon +the simple and appropriate dress of democracy, a +beautiful superfluity that democracy allows itself, +a relic of all the historically venerable, primitive ornaments, +nay the symbol of history itself, and in +this unique position a highly effective thing if, as +above said, it does not stand alone, but is put on the +right side.—In order to avoid the danger of this +<pb n='335'/><anchor id='Pg335'/> +nullification, kings hold by their teeth to their dignity +as war-lords. To this end they need wars, or +in other words exceptional circumstances, in which +that slow, lawful pressure of the democratic forces +is relaxed. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>282.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Teacher a Necessary Evil.</hi>—Let us +have as few people as possible between the productive +minds and the hungry and recipient minds! +The middlemen almost unconsciously adulterate the +food which they supply. For their work as middlemen +they want too high a fee for themselves, and +this is drawn from the original, productive spirits—namely, +interest, admiration, leisure, money, and +other advantages.—Accordingly, we should always +look upon the teacher as a necessary evil, just like +the merchant; as an evil that we should make as +small as possible.—Perhaps the prevailing distress +in Germany has its main cause in the fact that too +many wish to live and live well by trade (in other +words, desiring as far as possible to diminish prices +for the producer and raise prices for the consumer, +and thus to profit by the greatest possible loss to +both). In the same way, we may certainly trace a +main cause of the prevailing intellectual poverty in +the superabundance of teachers. It is because of +teachers that so little is learnt, and that so badly. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>283.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Tax of Homage.</hi>—Him whom we know +and honour,—be he physician, artist, or artisan,—who +does and produces something for us, we gladly +<pb n='336'/><anchor id='Pg336'/> +pay as highly as we can, often a fee beyond our +means. On the other hand, we pay the unknown +as low a price as possible; here is a contest in which +every one struggles and makes others struggle for a +foot's breadth of land. In the work of the known +there is something that cannot be bought, the sentiment +and ingenuity put into his work for our own +sake. We think we cannot better express our sense +of obligation than by a sort of sacrifice on our part.—The +heaviest tax is the tax of homage. The more +competition prevails, the more we buy for the unknown +and work for the unknown, the lower does this +tax become, whereas it is really the standard for the +loftiness of man's spiritual intercourse. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>284.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Means towards Genuine Peace.</hi>—No +government will nowadays admit that it maintains +an army in order to satisfy occasionally its passion +for conquest. The army is said to serve only +defensive purposes. This morality, which justifies +self-defence, is called in as the government's advocate. +This means, however, reserving morality for +ourselves and immorality for our neighbour, because +he must be thought eager for attack and conquest +if our state is forced to consider means of self-defence.—At +the same time, by our explanation of +our need of an army (because he denies the lust of +attack just as our state does, and ostensibly also +maintains his army for defensive reasons), we proclaim +him a hypocrite and cunning criminal, who +would fain seize by surprise, without any fighting, +<pb n='337'/><anchor id='Pg337'/> +a harmless and unwary victim. In this attitude all +states face each other to-day. They presuppose +evil intentions on their neighbour's part and good +intentions on their own. This hypothesis, however, +is an <emph>inhuman</emph> notion, as bad as and worse than +war. Nay, at bottom it is a challenge and motive +to war, foisting as it does upon the neighbouring +state the charge of immorality, and thus provoking +hostile intentions and acts. The doctrine of the +army as a means of self-defence must be abjured +as completely as the lust of conquest. Perhaps a +memorable day will come when a nation renowned +in wars and victories, distinguished by the highest +development of military order and intelligence, and +accustomed to make the heaviest sacrifice to these +objects, will voluntarily exclaim, <q>We will break +our swords,</q> and will destroy its whole military +system, lock, stock, and barrel. Making ourselves +defenceless (after having been the most strongly +defended) from a loftiness of sentiment—that is the +means towards genuine peace, which must always +rest upon a pacific disposition. The so-called armed +peace that prevails at present in all countries is a +sign of a bellicose disposition, of a disposition that +trusts neither itself nor its neighbour, and, partly +from hate, partly from fear, refuses to lay down its +weapons. Better to perish than to hate and fear, +and twice as far better to perish than to make oneself +hated and feared—this must some day become +the supreme maxim of every political community!—Our +liberal representatives of the people, as is well +known, have not the time for reflection on the nature +of humanity, or else they would know that they are +<pb n='338'/><anchor id='Pg338'/> +working in vain when they work for <q>a gradual +diminution of the military burdens.</q> On the contrary, +when the distress of these burdens is greatest, the +sort of God who alone can help here will be nearest. +The tree of military glory can only be destroyed at +one swoop, with one stroke of lightning. But, as +you know, lightning comes from the cloud and from +above. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>285.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Whether Property can be squared with +Justice.</hi>—When the injustice of property is strongly +felt (and the hand of the great clock is once more at +this place), we formulate two methods of relieving +this injustice: either an equal distribution, or an +abolition of private possession and a return to State +ownership. The latter method is especially dear to +the hearts of our Socialists, who are angry with that +primitive Jew for saying, <q>Thou shalt not steal.</q> +In their view the eighth<note place='foot'>The original, by a curious slip, has <q>seventh.</q>—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> commandment should +rather run, <q>Thou shalt not possess.</q>—The former +method was frequently tried in antiquity, always +indeed on a small scale, and yet with poor success. +From this failure we too may learn. <q>Equal plots +of land</q> is easily enough said, but how much +bitterness is aroused by the necessary division and +separation, by the loss of time-honoured possessions, +how much piety is wounded and sacrificed! We +uproot the foundation of morality when we uproot +boundary-stones. Again, how much fresh bitterness +among the new owners, how much envy and +looking askance! For there have never been two +<pb n='339'/><anchor id='Pg339'/> +really equal plots of land, and if there were, man's +envy of his neighbour would prevent him from +believing in their equality. And how long would +this equality, unhealthy and poisoned at the very +roots, endure? In a few generations, by inheritance, +here one plot would come to five owners, there +five plots to one. Even supposing that men acquiesced +in such abuses through the enactment of +stern laws of inheritance, the same equal plots +would indeed exist, but there would also be needy +malcontents, owning nothing but dislike of their +kinsmen and neighbours, and longing for a general +upheaval.—If, however, by the second method we +try to restore ownership to the community and make +the individual but a temporary tenant, we interfere +with agriculture. For man is opposed to all that is +only a transitory possession, unblessed with his own +care and sacrifice. With such property he behaves +in freebooter fashion, as robber or as worthless +spendthrift. When Plato declares that self-seeking +would be removed with the abolition of property, +we may answer him that, if self-seeking be taken +away, man will no longer possess the four cardinal +virtues either; as we must say that the most deadly +plague could not injure mankind so terribly as if +vanity were one day to disappear. Without vanity +and self-seeking what are human virtues? By this +I am far from meaning that these virtues are but +varied names and masks for these two qualities. +Plato's Utopian refrain, which is still sung by +Socialists, rests upon a deficient knowledge of men. +He lacked the historical science of moral emotions, +the insight into the origin of the good and useful +<pb n='340'/><anchor id='Pg340'/> +characteristics of the human soul. He believed, like +all antiquity, in good and evil as in black and white—that +is to say, in a radical difference between good +and bad men and good and bad qualities.—In order +that property may henceforth inspire more confidence +and become more moral, we should keep +open all the paths of work for small fortunes, but +should prevent the effortless and sudden acquisition of +wealth. Accordingly, we should take all the branches +of transport and trade which favour the accumulation +of large fortunes—especially, therefore, the +money market—out of the hands of private persons +or private companies, and look upon those who own +too much, just as upon those who own nothing, as +types fraught with danger to the community. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>286.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Value of Labour.</hi>—If we try to determine +the value of labour by the amount of time, industry, +good or bad will, constraint, inventiveness or laziness, +honesty or make-believe bestowed upon it, the +valuation can never be a just one. For the whole +personality would have to be thrown into the scale, +and this is impossible. Here the motto is, <q>Judge +not!</q> But after all the cry for justice is the cry we +now hear from those who are dissatisfied with the +present valuation of labour. If we reflect further we +find every person non-responsible for his product, the +labour; hence merit can never be derived therefrom, +and every labour is as good or as bad as it must be +through this or that necessary concatenation of forces +and weaknesses, abilities and desires. The worker +<pb n='341'/><anchor id='Pg341'/> +is not at liberty to say whether he shall work or not, +or to decide how he shall work. Only the standpoints +of usefulness, wider and narrower, have created +the valuation of labour. What we at present call +justice does very well in this sphere as a highly +refined utility, which does not only consider the +moment and exploit the immediate opportunity, but +looks to the permanence of all conditions, and thus +also keeps in view the well-being of the worker, his +physical and spiritual contentment: in order that he +and his posterity may work well for our posterity +and become trustworthy for longer periods than the +individual span of human life. The <emph>exploitation</emph> of +the worker was, as we now understand, a piece of +folly, a robbery at the expense of the future, a jeopardisation +of society. We almost have the war now, +and in any case the expense of maintaining peace, +of concluding treaties and winning confidence, will +henceforth be very great, because the folly of the +exploiters was very great and long-lasting. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>287.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Of the Study of the Social Body.</hi>—The +worst drawback for the modern student of economics +and political science in Europe, and especially in +Germany, is that the actual conditions, instead of +exemplifying rules, illustrate exceptions or stages of +transition and extinction. We must therefore learn +to look beyond actually existing conditions and, for +example, turn our eyes to distant North America, +where we can still contemplate and investigate, if we +will, the initial and normal movement of the social +<pb n='342'/><anchor id='Pg342'/> +body. In Germany such a study requires arduous +and historical research, or, as I have suggested, a +telescope. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>288.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How far Machinery Humiliates.</hi>—Machinery +is impersonal; it robs the piece of work of its +pride, of the individual merits and defects that cling +to all work that is not machine-made—in other words, +of its bit of humanity. Formerly, all buying from +handicraftsmen meant a mark of distinction for their +personalities, with whose productions people surrounded +themselves. Furniture and dress accordingly +became the symbols of mutual valuation and +personal connection. Nowadays, on the other hand, +we seem to live in the midst of anonymous and impersonal +serfdom.—We must not buy the facilitation +of labour too dear. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>289.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Century-old Quarantine.</hi>—Democratic institutions +are centres of quarantine against the old +plague of tyrannical desires. As such they are extremely +useful and extremely tedious. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>290.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Most Dangerous Partisan.</hi>—The most +dangerous partisan is he whose defection would involve +the ruin of the whole party—in other words, +the best partisan. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='343'/><anchor id='Pg343'/> + +<div> +<head>291.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Destiny and the Stomach.</hi>—A piece more or +less of bread and butter in the jockey's body is occasionally +the decisive factor in races and bets, and +thus in the good and bad luck of thousands.—So +long as the destiny of nations depends upon diplomats, +the stomachs of diplomats will always be the +object of patriotic misgivings. <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>Quousque tandem</foreign>.... +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>292.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Victory of Democracy.</hi>—All political +powers nowadays attempt to exploit the fear of +Socialism for their own strengthening. Yet in the +long run democracy alone gains the advantage, for +<emph>all</emph> parties are now compelled to flatter <q>the masses</q> +and grant them facilities and liberties of all kinds, +with the result that the masses finally become omnipotent. +The masses are as far as possible removed +from Socialism as a doctrine of altering the acquisition +of property. If once they get the steering-wheel +into their hands, through great majorities in their +Parliaments, they will attack with progressive taxation +the whole dominant system of capitalists, merchants, +and financiers, and will in fact slowly create +a middle class which may forget Socialism like a +disease that has been overcome.—The practical result +of this increasing democratisation will next be +a European league of nations, in which each individual +nation, delimited by the proper geographical +frontiers, has the position of a canton with its separate +rights. Small account will be taken of the +<pb n='344'/><anchor id='Pg344'/> +historic memories of previously existing nations, +because the pious affection for these memories will +be gradually uprooted under the democratic régime, +with all its craze for novelty and experiment. The +corrections of frontiers that will prove necessary will +be so carried out as to serve the interests of the great +cantons and at the same time that of the whole federation, +but not that of any venerable memories. To +find the standpoints for these corrections will be the +task of future diplomats, who will have to be at the +same time students of civilisation, agriculturists, and +commercial experts, with no armies but motives and +utilities at their back. Then only will foreign and +home politics be inseparably connected, whereas +to-day the latter follows its haughty dictator, and +gleans in sorry baskets the stubble that is left over +from the harvest of the former. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>293.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Goal and Means of Democracy.</hi>—Democracy +tries to create and guarantee independence for +as many as possible in their opinions, way of life, +and occupation. For this purpose democracy must +withhold the political suffrage both from those who +have nothing and from those who are really rich, as +being the two intolerable classes of men. At the +removal of these classes it must always work, because +they are continually calling its task in question. +In the same way democracy must prevent +all measures that seem to aim at party organisation. +For the three great foes of independence, in that +threefold sense, are the have-nots, the rich, and the +<pb n='345'/><anchor id='Pg345'/> +parties.—I speak of democracy as of a thing to +come. What at present goes by that name is distinguished +from older forms of government only by +the fact that it drives with new horses; the roads +and the wheels are the same as of yore.—Has the +danger really become less with <emph>these</emph> conveyances of +the commonwealth? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>294.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Discretion and Success.</hi>—That great quality +of discretion, which is fundamentally the virtue of +virtues, their ancestress and queen, has in common +life by no means always success on its side. The +wooer would find himself deceived if he had wooed +that virtue only for the sake of success. For it +is rated by practical people as suspicious, and is +confused with cunning and hypocrisy: he who +obviously lacks discretion, the man who quickly +grasps and sometimes misses his grasp, has prejudice +on his side—he is an honest, trustworthy +fellow. Practical people, accordingly, do not like +the prudent man, thinking he is to them a danger. +Moreover, we often assume the prudent man to be +anxious, preoccupied, pedantic—unpractical, butterfly +people find him uncomfortable, because he does +not live in their happy-go-lucky way, without +thinking of actions and duties; he appears among +them as their embodied conscience, and the bright +day is dimmed to their eyes before his gaze. Thus +when success and popularity fail him, he may often +say by way of private consolation, <q>So high are +the taxes you have to pay for the possession of the +<pb n='346'/><anchor id='Pg346'/> +most precious of human commodities—still it is +worth the price!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>295.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>Et in Arcadia Ego.</foreign></hi>—I looked down, over +waves of hills, to a milky-green lake, through firs +and pines austere with age; rocky crags of all +shapes about me, the soil gay with flowers and +grasses. A herd of cattle moved, stretched, and +expanded itself before me; single cows and groups +in the distance, in the clearest evening light, hard +by the forest of pines; others nearer and darker; +all in calm and eventide contentment. My watch +pointed to half-past six. The bull of the herd had +stepped into the white foaming brook, and went +forward slowly, now striving against, now giving +way to his tempestuous course; thus, no doubt, he +took his sort of fierce pleasure. Two dark brown +beings, of Bergamasque origin, tended the herd, the +girl dressed almost like a boy. On the left, overhanging +cliffs and fields of snow above broad belts +of woodland; to the right, two enormous ice-covered +peaks, high above me, shimmering in the veil of +the sunny haze—all large, silent, and bright. The +beauty of the whole was awe-inspiring and induced +to a mute worship of the moment and its revelation. +Unconsciously, as if nothing could be more natural, +you peopled this pure, clear world of light (which +had no trace of yearning, of expectancy, of looking +forward or backward) with Greek heroes. You felt +it all as Poussin and his school felt—at once heroic +and idyllic.—So individual men too have lived, constantly +feeling themselves in the world and the +<pb n='347'/><anchor id='Pg347'/> +world in themselves, and among them one of the +greatest men, the inventor of a heroico-idyllic form +of philosophy—Epicurus. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>296.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Counting and Measuring.</hi>—The art of seeing +many things, of weighing one with another, of +reckoning one thing with another and constructing +from them a rapid conclusion, a fairly correct sum—that +goes to make a great politician or general +or merchant. This quality is, in fact, a power of +speedy mental calculation. The art of seeing <emph>one</emph> +thing alone, of finding therein the sole motive for +action, the guiding principle of all other action, +goes to make the hero and also the fanatic. This +quality means a dexterity in measuring with one +scale. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>297.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Not to See too Soon.</hi>—As long as we undergo +some experience, we must give ourselves up to the +experience and shut our eyes—in other words, not +become observers of what we are undergoing. For +to observe would disturb good digestion of the experience, +and instead of wisdom we should gain nothing +but dyspepsia. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>298.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>From the Practice of the Wise.</hi>—To become +wise we must <emph>will</emph> to undergo certain experiences, +and accordingly leap into their jaws. This, it is +true, is very dangerous. Many a <q>sage</q> has been +eaten up in the process. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='348'/><anchor id='Pg348'/> + +<div> +<head>299.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Exhaustion of the Intellect.</hi>—Our occasional +coldness and indifference towards people, +which is imputed to us as hardness and defect of +character, is often only an exhaustion of the intellect. +In this state other men are to us, as we are +to ourselves, tedious or immaterial. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>300.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><q>The One Thing Needful.</q></hi>—If we are clever, +the one thing we need is to have joy in our hearts. +<q>Ah,</q> adds some one, <q>if we are clever, the best +thing we can do is to be wise.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>301.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Sign of Love.</hi>—Some one said, <q>There are +two persons about whom I have never thought +deeply. That is a sign of my love for them.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>302.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How we Seek to Improve Bad Arguments.</hi>—Many +a man adds a bit of his personality to his +bad arguments, as if they would thus go better and +change into straight and good arguments. In the +same way, players at skittles, even after a throw, +try to give a direction to the ball by turns and +gestures. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>303.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Honesty.</hi>—It is but a small thing to be a pattern +sort of man with regard to rights and property—for +<pb n='349'/><anchor id='Pg349'/> +instance (to name trifling points, which of course +give a better proof of this sort of pattern nature +than great examples), if as a boy one never steals +fruit from another's orchard, and as a man never +walks on unmown fields. It is but little; you are +then still only a <q>law-abiding person,</q> with just that +degree of morality of which a <q>society,</q> a group of +human beings, is capable. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>304.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><q>Man!</q></hi>—What is the vanity of the vainest individual +as compared with the vanity which the +most modest person feels when he thinks of his +position in nature and in the world as <q>Man!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>305.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Most Necessary Gymnastic.</hi>—Through +deficiency in self-control in small matters a similar +deficiency on great occasions slowly arises. Every +day on which we have not at least once denied +ourselves some <emph>trifle</emph> is turned to bad use and a +danger to the next day. This gymnastic is indispensable +if we wish to maintain the joy of being +our own master. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>306.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Losing Ourselves.</hi>—When we have first found +ourselves, we must understand how from time to +time to <emph>lose</emph> ourselves and then to find ourselves +again.—This is true on the assumption that we are +thinkers. A thinker finds it a drawback always to +be tied to one person. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='350'/><anchor id='Pg350'/> + +<div> +<head>307.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>When it is Necessary to Part.</hi>—You must, +for a time at least, part from that which you want +to know and measure. Only when you have left a +city do you see how high its towers rise above its +houses. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>308.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>At Noontide.</hi>—He to whom an active and +stormy morning of life is allotted, at the noontide +of life feels his soul overcome by a strange longing +for a rest that may last for months and years. +All grows silent around him, voices sound farther +and farther in the distance, the sun shines straight +down upon him. On a hidden woodland sward +he sees the great God Pan sleeping, and with Pan +Nature seems to him to have gone to sleep with +an expression of eternity on their faces. He wants +nothing, he troubles about nothing; his heart stands +still, only his eye lives. It is a death with waking +eyes. Then man sees much that he never saw before, +and, so far as his eye can reach, all is woven +into and as it were buried in a net of light. He +feels happy, but it is a heavy, very heavy kind +of happiness.—Then at last the wind stirs in the +trees, noontide is over, life carries him away again, +life with its blind eyes, and its tempestuous retinue +behind it—desire, illusion, oblivion, enjoyment, +destruction, decay. And so comes evening, more +stormy and more active than was even the morning.—To +the really active man these prolonged +phases of cognition seem almost uncanny and morbid, +but not unpleasant. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='351'/><anchor id='Pg351'/> + +<div> +<head>309.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To Beware of One's Portrait-Painter.</hi>—A +great painter, who in a portrait has revealed and put +on canvas the fullest expression and look of which a +man is capable, will almost always think, when he +sees the man later in real life, that he is only looking +at a caricature. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>310.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Two Principles of the New Life.</hi>—<hi rend='italic'>First +Principle</hi>: to arrange one's life on the most +secure and tangible basis, not as hitherto upon the +most distant, undetermined, and cloudy foundation. +<hi rend='italic'>Second Principle</hi>: to establish the rank of the +nearest and nearer things, and of the more and less +secure, before one arranges one's life and directs it +to a final end. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>311.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Dangerous Irritability.</hi>—Talented men who +are at the same time <emph>idle</emph> will always appear somewhat +irritated when one of their friends has accomplished +a thorough piece of work. Their jealousy +is awakened, they are ashamed of their own laziness, +or rather, they fear that their active friend will +now despise them even more than before. In such +a mood they criticise the new achievement, and, to +the utter astonishment of the author, their criticism +becomes a revenge. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>312.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Destructions of Illusions.</hi>—Illusions are +certainly expensive amusements; but the destruction +<pb n='352'/><anchor id='Pg352'/> +of illusions is still more expensive, if looked +upon as an amusement, as it undoubtedly is by some +people. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>313.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Monotone of the <q>Sage.</q></hi>—Cows sometimes +have a look of wondering which stops short +on the path to questioning. In the eye of the +higher intelligence, on the other hand, the <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>nil admirari</foreign> +is spread out like the monotony of the cloudless +sky. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>314.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Not to be Ill too Long.</hi>—We should beware +of being ill too long. The lookers-on become impatient +of their customary duty of showing sympathy, +because they find it too much trouble to +maintain the appearance of this emotion for any +length of time. Then they immediately pass to +suspicion of our character, with the conclusion: +<q>You deserve to be ill, and we need no longer be +at pains to show our sympathy.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>315.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Hint to Enthusiasts.</hi>—He who likes to +be carried away, and would fain be carried on high, +must beware lest he become too heavy. For instance, +he must not learn much, and especially not +let himself be crammed with science. Science +makes men ponderous—take care, ye enthusiasts! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>316.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Knowledge of how to Surprise Oneself.</hi>—He +who would see himself as he is, must know +<pb n='353'/><anchor id='Pg353'/> +how to <emph>surprise</emph> himself, torch in hand. For with +the mind it is as with the body: whoever is accustomed +to look at himself in the glass forgets +his ugliness, and only recognises it again by means +of the portrait-painter. Yet he even grows used +to the picture and forgets his ugliness all over +again.—Herein we see the universal law that man +cannot endure unalterable ugliness, unless for a +moment. He forgets or denies it in all cases.—The +moralists must reckon upon that <q>moment</q> for +bringing forward their truths. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>317.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Opinions and Fish.</hi>—We are possessors of our +opinions as of fish—that is, in so far as we are possessors +of a fish pond. We must go fishing and +have luck—then we have <emph>our</emph> fish, <emph>our</emph> opinions. I +speak here of live opinions, of live fish. Others are +content to possess a cabinet of fossils—and, in their +head, <q>convictions.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>318.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Signs of Freedom and Servitude.</hi>—To +satisfy one's needs so far as possible oneself, even +if imperfectly, is the path towards freedom in mind +and personality. To satisfy many even superfluous +needs, and that as fully as possible, is a training +for servitude. The Sophist Hippias, who himself +earned and made all that he wore within and without, +is the representative of the highest freedom of +mind and personality. It does not matter whether +<pb n='354'/><anchor id='Pg354'/> +all is done equally well and perfectly—pride can +repair the damaged places. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>319.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Belief in Oneself.</hi>—In our times we mistrust +every one who believes in himself. Formerly this +was enough to make people believe in one. The +recipe for finding faith now runs: <q>Spare not thyself! +In order to set thy opinion in a credible light, +thou must first set fire to thy own hut!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>320.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>At Once Richer and Poorer.</hi>—I know a +man who accustomed himself even in childhood +to think well of the intellectuality of mankind—in +other words, of their real devotion as regards things +of the intellect, their unselfish preference for that +which is recognised as true—but who had at the +same time a modest or even depreciatory view of +his own brain (judgment, memory, presence of mind, +imagination). He set no value on himself when +he compared himself with others. Now in the +course of years he was compelled, first once and +then in a hundred ways, to revise this verdict. One +would have thought he would be thoroughly satisfied +and delighted. Such, in fact, was to some extent +the case, but, as he once said, <q>Yet a bitterness +of the deepest dye is mingled with my feeling, such +as I did not know in earlier life; for since I learnt +to value men and myself more correctly, my intellect +seems to me of less use. I scarcely think I can +now do any good at all with it, because the minds +<pb n='355'/><anchor id='Pg355'/> +of others cannot understand the good. I now +always see before me the frightful gulf between +those who could give help and those who need +help. So I am troubled by the misfortune of having +my intellect to myself and of being forced to enjoy +it alone so far as it can give any enjoyment. But +to give is more blessed than to possess, and what is +the richest man in the solitude of a desert?</q><note place='foot'>Clearly autobiographical. Nietzsche, like all great men, +passed through a period of modesty and doubt.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>321.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How we should Attack.</hi>—The reasons for +which men believe or do not believe are in very few +people as strong as they might be. As a rule, in +order to shake a belief it is far from necessary to use +the heaviest weapon of attack. Many attain their object +by merely making the attack with some noise—in +fact, pop-guns are often enough. In dealing with +very vain persons, the semblance of a strong attack +is enough. They think they are being taken quite +seriously, and readily give way. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>322.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Death.</hi>—Through the certain prospect of death +a precious, fragrant drop of frivolity might be mixed +with every life—and now, you singular druggist-souls, +you have made of death a drop of poison, +unpleasant to taste, which makes the whole of life +hideous. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>323.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Repentance.</hi>—Never allow repentance free play, +<pb n='356'/><anchor id='Pg356'/> +but say at once to yourself, <q>That would be adding +a second piece of folly to the first.</q> If you +have worked evil, you must bethink yourself of +doing good. If you are punished for your actions, +submit to the punishment with the feeling that by +this very submission you are somehow doing good, +in that you are deterring others from falling into +the same error. Every malefactor who is punished +has a right to consider himself a benefactor to +mankind. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>324.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Becoming a Thinker.</hi>—How can any one become +a thinker if he does not spend at least a third +part of the day without passions, men, and books? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>325.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Best Remedy.</hi>—A little health on and off +is the best remedy for the invalid. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>326.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Don't Touch.</hi>—There are dreadful people who, +instead of solving a problem, complicate it for those +who deal with it and make it harder to solve.<note place='foot'>Nietzsche here alludes to his own countrymen.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> +Whoever does not know how to hit the nail on the +head should be entreated not to hit the nail at all. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>327.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Forgetting Nature.</hi>—We speak of Nature, +and, in doing so, forget ourselves: we ourselves are +<pb n='357'/><anchor id='Pg357'/> +Nature, <foreign rend='italic'>quand même</foreign>.—Consequently, Nature is +something quite different from what we feel on hearing +her name pronounced. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>328.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Profundity and Ennui.</hi>—In the case of profound +men, as of deep wells, it takes a long time +before anything that is thrown into them reaches +the bottom. The spectators, who generally do not +wait long enough, too readily look upon such a man +as callous and hard—or even as boring. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>329.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>When it is Time to Vow Fidelity to Oneself.</hi>—We +sometimes go astray in an intellectual +direction which does not correspond to our talents. +For a time we struggle heroically against wind and +tide, really against ourselves; but finally we become +weary and we pant. What we accomplish gives us +no real pleasure, since we think that we have paid too +heavy a price for these successes. We even despair +of our productivity, of our future, perhaps in the +midst of victory.—Finally, finally we turn back—and +then the wind swells our sails and bears us into our +smooth water. What bliss! How certain of victory +we feel! Only now do we know what we are and +what we intend, and now we vow fidelity to ourselves, +and have a right to do so—as men that know. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>330.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Weather Prophets.</hi>—Just as the clouds reveal +to us the direction of the wind high above our +<pb n='358'/><anchor id='Pg358'/> +heads, so the lightest and freest spirits give signs of +future weather by their course. The wind in the +valley and the market-place opinions of to-day have +no significance for the future, but only for the past. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>331.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Continual Acceleration.</hi>—Those who begin +slowly and find it hard to become familiar with +a subject, sometimes acquire afterwards the quality +of continual acceleration—so that in the end no one +knows where the current will take them. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>332.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Three Good Things.</hi>—Greatness, calm, +sunlight—these three embrace all that a thinker +desires and also demands of himself: his hopes +and duties, his claims in the intellectual and moral +sphere, nay even in his daily manner of life and +the scenic background of his residence. Corresponding +to these three things are, firstly thoughts +that exalt, secondly thoughts that soothe, and +thirdly thoughts that illuminate—but, fourthly, +thoughts that share in all these three qualities, in +which all earthly things are transfigured. This is +the kingdom of the great <emph>trinity of joy</emph>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>333.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Dying for <q>Truth.</q></hi>—We should not let ourselves +be burnt for our opinions—we are not so certain +of them as all that. But we might let ourselves +be burnt for the right of possessing and changing +our opinions. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='359'/><anchor id='Pg359'/> + +<div> +<head>334.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Market Value.</hi>—If we wish to pass exactly +for what we are, we must be something that has its +market value. As, however, only objects in common +use have a market value, this desire is the +consequence either of shrewd modesty or of stupid +immodesty. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>335.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Moral for Builders.</hi>—We must remove the +scaffolding when the house has been built. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>336.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Sophocleanism.</hi>—Who poured more water into +wine than the Greeks? Sobriety and grace combined—that +was the aristocratic privilege of the +Athenian in the time of Sophocles and after. Imitate +that whoever can! In life and in work! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>337.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Heroism.</hi>—The heroic consists in doing something +great (or in nobly <emph>not</emph> doing something) without +feeling oneself to be in competition <emph>with</emph> or +<emph>before</emph> others. The hero carries with him, wherever +he goes, the wilderness and the holy land with inviolable +precincts. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>338.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Finding our <q>Double</q> in Nature.</hi>—In some +country places we rediscover ourselves, with a delightful +shudder: it is the pleasantest way of finding +our <q>double.</q>—How happy must he be who has +<pb n='360'/><anchor id='Pg360'/> +that feeling just here, in this perpetually sunny +October air, in this happy elfin play of the wind +from morn till eve, in this clearest of atmospheres +and mildest of temperatures, in all the serious yet +cheerful landscape of hill, lake, and forest on this +plateau, which has encamped fearlessly next to the +terrors of eternal snow: here, where Italy and Finland +have joined hands, and where the home of all +the silver colour-tones of Nature seems to be established. +How happy must he be who can say, <q>True, +there are many grander and finer pieces of scenery, +but this is so familiar and intimate to me, related +by blood, nay even more to me!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>339.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Affability of the Sage.</hi>—The sage will unconsciously +be affable in his intercourse with other +men, as a prince would be, and will readily treat +them as equals, in spite of all differences of talent, +rank, and character. For this characteristic, however, +so soon as people notice it, he is most heavily +censured. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>340.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Gold.</hi>—All that is gold does not glitter. A soft +sheen characterises the most precious metal. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>341.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Wheel and Drag.</hi>—The wheel and the drag +have different duties, but also one in common—that +of hurting each other. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='361'/><anchor id='Pg361'/> + +<div> +<head>342.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Disturbances of the Thinker.</hi>—All that interrupts +the thinker in his thoughts (disturbs him, +as people say) must be regarded by him calmly, as +a new model who comes in by the door to offer +himself to the artist. Interruptions are the ravens +which bring food to the recluse. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>343.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Being very Clever.</hi>—Being very clever keeps +men young, but they must put up with being considered, +for that very reason, older than they are. +For men read the handwriting of the intellect as +signs of <emph>experience</emph>—that is, of having lived much and +evilly, of suffering, error, and repentance. Hence, if +we are very clever and show it, we appear to them +older and wickeder than we are. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>344.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How we must Conquer.</hi>—We ought not to +desire victory if we only have the prospect of overcoming +our opponent by a hair's breadth. A good +victory makes the vanquished rejoice, and must have +about it something divine which spares <emph>humiliation</emph>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>345.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>An Illusion of Superior Minds.</hi>—Superior +minds find it difficult to free themselves from an +illusion; for they imagine that they excite envy +among the mediocre and are looked upon as exceptions. +<pb n='362'/><anchor id='Pg362'/> +As a matter of fact, however, they are +looked upon as superfluous, as something that would +not be missed if it did not exist. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>346.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Demanded by Cleanliness.</hi>—Changing opinions +is in some natures as much demanded by cleanliness +as changing clothes. In the case of other +natures it is only demanded by vanity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>347.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Also Worthy of a Hero.</hi>—Here is a hero who +did nothing but shake the tree as soon as the fruits +were ripe. Do you think that too small a thing? +Well, just look at the tree that he shook. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>348.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Gauge for Wisdom.</hi>—The growth of wisdom +may be gauged exactly by the diminution of ill-temper. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>349.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Expressing an Error Disagreeably.</hi>—It is +not to every one's taste to hear truth pleasantly expressed. +But let no one at least believe that error +will become truth if it is disagreeably expressed. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>350.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Golden Maxim.</hi>—Man has been bound +with many chains, in order that he may forget to +<pb n='363'/><anchor id='Pg363'/> +comport himself like an animal. And indeed he +has become more gentle, more intellectual, more +joyous, more meditative than any animal. But now +he still suffers from having carried his chains so long, +from having been so long without pure air and free +movement—these chains, however, are, as I repeat +again and again, the ponderous and significant +errors of moral, religious, and metaphysical ideas. +Only when the disease of chains is overcome is the +first great goal reached—the separation of man from +the brute. At present we stand in the midst of our +work of removing the chains, and in doing so we +need the strictest precautions. Only the ennobled +man may be granted freedom of spirit; to him +alone comes the alleviation of life and heals his +wounds; he is the first who can say that he lives +for the sake of joy, with no other aim; in any other +mouth, his motto of <q>Peace around me and goodwill +towards all the most familiar things,</q> would be +dangerous.—In this motto for single individuals he +is thinking of an ancient saying, magnificent and +pathetic, which applied to all, and has remained +standing above all mankind, as a motto and a +beacon whereby shall perish all who adorn their +banner too early—the rock on which Christianity +foundered. It is not even yet time, it seems, for <emph>all +men</emph> to have the lot of those shepherds who saw the +heavens lit up above them and heard the words: +<q>Peace on earth and goodwill to one another among +men.</q>—It is still the age of the individual. +</p> + +</div> + +<milestone unit='tb' rend='rule: 50%'/> + +<pb n='364'/><anchor id='Pg364'/> + +<div> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Shadow</hi>: Of all that you have enunciated, +nothing pleased me more than one promise: <q>Ye +want again to be good neighbours to the most +familiar things.</q> This will be to the advantage of +us poor shadows too. For do but confess that you +have hitherto been only too fond of reviling us. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer</hi>: Reviling? But why did you +never defend yourselves? After all, you were very +close to our ears. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Shadow</hi>: It seemed to us that we were too +near you to have a right to talk of ourselves. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer</hi>: What delicacy! Ah, you shadows +are <q>better men</q><note place='foot'>An allusion to the poem <q>Der Wilde</q> (The Savage) by +Säume, which ends with the line, <q>Sehet, wir wilden sind doch +bessere Menschen</q> (Behold, after all, we savages are better +men).—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> than we, I can see that. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Shadow</hi>: And yet you called us <q>importunate</q>—us, +who know one thing at least extremely +well: how to be silent and to wait—no Englishman +knows it better. It is true we are very, very often +in the retinue of men, but never as their bondsmen. +When man shuns light, we shun man—so far, at least, +we are free. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer</hi>: Ah, light shuns man far oftener, +and then also you abandon him. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Shadow</hi>: It has often pained me to leave you. +I am eager for knowledge, and much in man has remained +obscure to me, because I cannot always be in +his company. At the price of complete knowledge +of man I would gladly be your slave. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer</hi>: Do you know, do I know, whether +you would not then unwittingly become master instead +<pb n='365'/><anchor id='Pg365'/> +of slave? Or would remain a slave indeed, but +would lead a life of humiliation and disgust because +you despised your master? Let us both be content +with freedom such as you have enjoyed up to now—you +and I! For the sight of a being not free would +embitter my greatest joys; all that is best would be +repugnant to me if any one had to share it with me—I +will not hear of any slaves about me. That is +why I do not care for the dog, that lazy, tail-wagging +parasite, who first became <q>doggish</q> as the +slave of man, and of whom they still say that he is +loyal to his master and follows him like—— +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Shadow</hi>: Like his shadow, they say. Perhaps +I have already followed you too long to-day? +It has been the longest day, but we are nearing the +end; be patient a little more! The grass is damp; +I am feeling chilly. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer</hi>: Oh, is it already time to part? +And I had to hurt you in the end—I saw you became +darker. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Shadow</hi>: I blushed the only colour I have at +command. I remembered that I had often lain at +your feet like a dog, and that you then—— +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer</hi>: Can I not with all speed do something +to please you? Have you no wish? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Shadow</hi>: None, except perhaps the wish that +the philosophic <q>dog</q><note place='foot'>Diogenes, founder of the Cynic school, which derived its +name from κυών (dog).—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> expressed to Alexander the +Great—just move a little out of my light; I feel +cold. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer</hi>: What am I to do? +</p> + +<pb n='366'/><anchor id='Pg366'/> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Shadow</hi>: Walk under those fir-trees and look +around you towards the mountains; the sun is +sinking. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Wanderer</hi>: Where are you? Where are +you? +</p> + +</div> + +</div> + +</body> +<back rend="page-break-before: right"> + <div id="footnotes"> + <index index="toc" /> + <index index="pdf" /> + <head>Footnotes</head> + <divGen type="footnotes"/> + </div> + <div rend="page-break-before: right"> + <divGen type="pgfooter" /> + </div> +</back> +</text> +</TEI.2> |