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diff --git a/39955-tei/39955-tei.tei b/39955-tei/39955-tei.tei new file mode 100644 index 0000000..41f704f --- /dev/null +++ b/39955-tei/39955-tei.tei @@ -0,0 +1,17375 @@ +<?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>The Dawn of Day</title> + <author><name reg="Nietzsche, Friedrich Wilhelm">Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche</name></author> + <respStmt><resp>Translated by</resp> <name>John McFarland Kennedy</name></respStmt> + </titleStmt> + <editionStmt> + <edition n="1">Edition 1</edition> + </editionStmt> + <publicationStmt> + <publisher>Project Gutenberg</publisher> + <date>June 9, 2012</date> + <idno type="etext-no">39955</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="fr"></language> + <language id="la"></language> + <language id="it"></language> + <language id="de"></language> + </langUsage> + </profileDesc> + <revisionDesc> + <change> + <date value="2012-06-09">June 9, 2012</date> + <respStmt> + <name> + Produced by Dianna Adair, Joe C, 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/American Libraries.) + </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">The Dawn of Day</p> + <p rend="font-size: large; text-align: center">Translated by</p> + <p rend="font-size: x-large; text-align: center">John McFarland Kennedy</p> + <p rend="font-size: xx-large; text-align: center">Author of <q>The Quintessence of Nietzsche</q>, <q>Religions and Philosophers of the East</q></p> + <p rend="text-align: center">There are many dawns which have yet to shed their light.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Rig-Veda</hi>.</p> + <p rend="text-align: center">New York</p> + <p rend="text-align: center">The MacMillan Company</p> + <p rend="text-align: center">1911</p> + </div> + <div rend="page-break-before: always"> + <head>Contents</head> + <divGen type="toc" /> + </div> + + </front> +<body> + +<pb n='v'/><anchor id='Pgv'/> + +<div rend='page-break-before: always'> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Introduction.</head> + +<p> +When Nietzsche called his book <hi rend='italic'>The Dawn of Day</hi>, +he was far from giving it a merely fanciful title to +attract the attention of that large section of the +public which judges books by their titles rather than +by their contents. <hi rend='italic'>The Dawn of Day</hi> represents, +figuratively, the dawn of Nietzsche's own philosophy. +Hitherto he had been considerably influenced +in his outlook, if not in his actual thoughts, +by Schopenhauer, Wagner, and perhaps also Comte. +<hi rend='italic'>Human, all-too-Human</hi>, belongs to a period of transition. +After his rupture with Bayreuth, Nietzsche +is, in both parts of that work, trying to stand on his +own legs, and to regain his spiritual freedom; he is +feeling his way to his own philosophy. <hi rend='italic'>The Dawn +of Day</hi>, written in 1881 under the invigorating influence +of a Genoese spring, is the dawn of this new +Nietzsche. <q>With this book I open my campaign +against morality,</q> he himself said later in his autobiography, +the <hi rend='italic'>Ecce Homo</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +Just as in the case of the books written in his +prime—<hi rend='italic'>The Joyful Wisdom</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Zarathustra</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Beyond +Good and Evil</hi>, and <hi rend='italic'>The Genealogy of Morals</hi>—we +cannot fail to be impressed in this work by +Nietzsche's deep psychological insight, the insight +that showed him to be a powerful judge of men and +things unequalled in the nineteenth or, perhaps, any +<pb n='vi'/><anchor id='Pgvi'/> +other century. One example of this is seen in his +searching analysis of the Apostle Paul (Aphorism +<ref target='Sect_68'>68</ref>), in which the soul of the <q>First Christian</q> +is ruthlessly and realistically laid bare to us. +Nietzsche's summing-up of the Founder of Christianity—for +of course, as is now generally recognised, +it was Paul, and not Christ, who founded the Christian +Church—has not yet called forth those bitter +attacks from theologians that might have been expected, +though one reason for this apparent neglect +is no doubt that the portrait is so true, and in these +circumstances silence is certainly golden on the part +of defenders of the faith, who are otherwise, as a +rule, loquacious enough. Nor has the taunt in +Aphorism <ref target='Sect_84'>84</ref> elicited an answer from the quarter +whither it was directed; and the <q>free</q> (not to say +dishonest) interpretation of the Bible by Christian +scholars and theologians, which is still proceeding +merrily, is now being turned to Nietzsche's own +writings. For the philosopher's works are now being +<q>explained away</q> by German theologians in a +most naïve and daring fashion, and with an ability +which has no doubt been acquired as the result of +centuries of skilful interpretation of the Holy Writ. +</p> + +<p> +Nor are professional theologians the only ones +who have failed to answer Nietzsche; for in other +than religious matters the majority of savants +have not succeeded in plumbing his depths. There +is, for example, the question of race. Ten years +ago, twenty years after the publication of <hi rend='italic'>The +Dawn of Day</hi>, Nietzsche's countrymen enthusiastically +hailed a book which has recently been translated +into English, Chamberlain's <hi rend='italic'>Foundations of +<pb n='vii'/><anchor id='Pgvii'/> +the Nineteenth Century</hi>. In this book the Teutons +are said to be superior to all the other peoples in the +world, the reason given being that they have kept +their race pure. It is due to this purity of race that +they have produced so many great men; for every +<q>good</q> man in history is a Teuton, and every bad +man something else. Considerable skill is exhibited +by the author in filching from his opponents the +Latins their best trump cards, and likewise <emph>the</emph> +trump card, Jesus Christ, from the Jews; for Jesus +Christ, according to Chamberlain's very plausible +argument, was not a Jew but an Aryan, <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> a member +of that great family of which the Teutons are +a branch. +</p> + +<p> +What would Nietzsche have said to this legerdemain? +He has constantly pointed out that the +Teutons are so far from being a pure race that they +have, on the contrary, done everything in their power +to ruin even the idea of a pure race for ever. For +the Teutons, through their Reformation and their +Puritan revolt in England, and the philosophies +developed by the democracies that necessarily followed, +were the spiritual forbears of the French +Revolution and of the Socialistic régime under +which we are beginning to suffer nowadays. Thus +this noble race has left nothing undone to blot out +the last remnant of race in Europe, and it even +stands in the way of the creation of a new race. And +with such a record in history the Germans write +books, eulogising themselves as the salt of the earth, +the people of peoples, the race of races, while in truth +they are nothing else than <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>nouveaux-riches</foreign> endeavouring +to draw up a decent pedigree for themselves. +<pb n='viii'/><anchor id='Pgviii'/> +We know that honesty is not a prerequisite +of such pedigrees, and that patriotism may be considered +as a good excuse even for a wrong pedigree; +but the race-pandemonium that followed the publication +of Mr. Chamberlain's book in Germany was +really a very unwise proceeding in view of the false +and misleading document produced. What, it may +be asked again, would Nietzsche have said if he had +heard his countrymen screaming odes to their own +glory as the <q>flower of Europe</q>? He would assuredly +have dismissed their exalted pretensions with a +good-natured smile; for his study of history had +shown him that even slaves must have their saturnalia +now and then. But as to his philosophical +answer there can be no doubt; for in Aphorism <ref target='Sect_272'>272</ref> +of <hi rend='italic'>The Dawn of Day</hi> there is a single sentence which +completely refutes the view of modern racemongers +like Chamberlain and his followers: <q>It is probable,</q> +we read, <q>that there are no pure races, but +only races which have become purified, and even +these are extremely rare.</q> There are even stronger +expressions to be met with in <q>Peoples and Countries</q> +(Aphorism 20; see the <hi rend='italic'>Genealogy of Morals</hi>, +p. 226): <q>What quagmires and mendacity must +there be about if it is possible, in the modern +European hotch-potch, to raise the question of +<q>race</q>!</q> and again, in Aphorism 21: <q>Maxim—to +associate with no man who takes any part in the +mendacious race-swindle.</q> +</p> + +<p> +A man like Nietzsche, who makes so little impression +upon mankind in general, is certainly not, +as some people have thought and openly said, a +public danger, so the guardians of the State need not +<pb n='ix'/><anchor id='Pgix'/> +be uneasy. There is little danger of Nietzsche's revolutionising +either the masses or the classes; for, +as Goethe used to say, <q>Seulement celui qui ressemble +le peuple, l'émeut.</q> Nietzsche's voice has as +yet hardly been lifted in this country; and, until it is +fully heard, both masses and classes will calmly proceed +on their way to the extremes of democracy and +anarchy, as they now appear to be doing. Anarchy, +though, may be too strong a word; for there is some +doubt whether, throughout Europe and America at +all events, the people are not now too weak even for +anarchy. A revolt is a sign of strength in a slave; +but our modern slaves have no strength left. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime, however, it will have become +clear that Nietzsche tried to stop this threatening +degradation of the human race, that he endeavoured +to supplant the morality of altruism—the cause of +this degradation—by another, a super-Christian +morality, and that he has succeeded in this aim, if +not where the masses and the classes are concerned, +at any rate in the case of that small minority of +thinkers to which he really wished to appeal. And +this minority is naturally grateful to the philosopher +for having supplied them with a morality which +enables them to be <q>good</q> without being fools—an +unpleasant combination which, unfortunately, the +Nazarene morality is seldom able to avoid. This +Nazarene morality has doubtless its own merits, and +its <q>good</q> and <q>evil</q> in many cases coincide with +ours; but common sense and certain intellectual +qualities are not too highly appreciated in the table +of Christian values (see, for instance, 1 Cor. iii. 19), +whence it will be observed that the enlightenment +<pb n='x'/><anchor id='Pgx'/> +of a Christian is not always quite equal to his +otherwise excellent intentions. We Nietzschians, +however, must show that patience to them which +they always pretend to show to their opponents. +Nietzsche himself, indeed, recommends this in Aphorism +<ref target='Sect_103'>103</ref> of this book, an aphorism which is almost +too well known to need repetition; for it likewise +disproves the grotesque though widely circulated +supposition that all kinds of immorality would be +indulged in under the sway of the <q>Immoralistic</q> +philosopher: +</p> + +<p> +<q>I should not, of course, deny—unless I were a +fool—that many actions which are called immoral +should be avoided and resisted; and in the same way +that many which are called moral should be performed +and encouraged; but I hold that in both +cases these actions should be performed from +motives other than those which have prevailed up +to the present time. We must learn anew in order +that at last, perhaps very late in the day, we may be +able to do something more: feel anew.</q> +</p> + +<p> +In regard to the translation itself—which owes +a good deal to many excellent suggestions made +by Mr. Thomas Common—it adheres, as a rule, +closely to the German text; and in only two or +three instances has a slightly freer rendering been +adopted in order to make the sense quite clear. +There are one or two cases in which a punning or +double meaning could not be adequately rendered +in English: <hi rend='italic'>e.g.</hi> Aphorism <ref target='Sect_50'>50</ref>, where the German +word <q>Rausch</q> means both <q>intoxication</q> and also +<q>elation</q> (<hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> the exalted feelings of the religious +fanatic). Again, we have <q>Einleid,</q> <q>Einleidigkeit,</q> +<pb n='xi'/><anchor id='Pgxi'/> +in Aphorism <ref target='Sect_63'>63</ref>—words which do not quite +correspond to pity, compassion, or fellow-feeling, +and which, indeed, are not yet known to German +lexicographers. A literal translation, <q>one-feeling,</q> +would be almost meaningless. What is actually +signified is that both sufferer and sympathiser have +nerves and feelings in common: an experience which +Schopenhauer, as Nietzsche rightly points out, mistook +for compassion or pity (<q>Mitleid</q>), and which +lacked a word, even in German, until the later +psychologist coined <q>Einleid.</q> Again, in Aphorism +<ref target='Sect_554'>554</ref> we have a play upon the words <q>Vorschritt</q> +(leading, guidance) and <q>Fortschritt</q> (progress). +</p> + +<p> +All these, however, are trifling matters in comparison +with the substance of the book, and they are of +more interest to philologists than to psychologists. +It is for psychologists that this book was written; +and such minds, somewhat rare in our time, may +read in it with much profit. +</p> + +<p> +J. M. Kennedy. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>London</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>September</hi> 1911. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='001'/><anchor id='Pg001'/> + +<div rend='page-break-before: always'> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Author's Preface.</head> + +<p> +In this book we find a <q>subterrestrial</q> at work, +digging, mining, undermining. You can see him, +always provided that you have eyes for such deep +work,—how he makes his way slowly, cautiously, +gently but surely, without showing signs of the +weariness that usually accompanies a long privation +of light and air. He might even be called happy, +despite his labours in the dark. Does it not seem +as if some faith were leading him on, some solace +recompensing him for his toil? Or that he himself +desires a long period of darkness, an unintelligible, +hidden, enigmatic something, knowing as he does +that he will in time have his own morning, his +own redemption, his own rosy dawn?—Yea, verily +he will return: ask him not what he seeketh in the +depths; for he himself will tell you, this apparent +Trophonius and subterrestrial, whensoever he once +again becomes man. One easily unlearns how to +hold one's tongue when one has for so long been a +mole, and all alone, like him.— +</p> + +<div> +<head>2.</head> + +<p> +Indeed, my indulgent friends, I will tell you—here, +in this late preface,<note place='foot'>The book was first published in 1881, the preface being +added to the second edition, 1886.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> which might easily have +<pb n='002'/><anchor id='Pg002'/> +become an obituary or a funeral oration—what +I sought in the depths below: for I have come +back, and—I have escaped. Think not that I will +urge you to run the same perilous risk! or that I +will urge you on even to the same solitude! For +whoever proceeds on his own path meets nobody: +this is the feature of one's <q>own path.</q> No one +comes to help him in his task: he must face everything +quite alone—danger, bad luck, wickedness, +foul weather. He goes his own way; and, as is +only right, meets with bitterness and occasional +irritation because he pursues this <q>own way</q> of +his: for instance, the knowledge that not even his +friends can guess who he is and whither he is going, +and that they ask themselves now and then: <q>Well? +Is he really moving at all? Has he still ... a +path before him?</q>—At that time I had undertaken +something which could not have been done by +everybody: I went down into the deepest depths; +I tunnelled to the very bottom; I started to investigate +and unearth an old <emph>faith</emph> which for thousands +of years we philosophers used to build on as the +safest of all foundations—which we built on again +and again although every previous structure fell +in: I began to undermine our <emph>faith in morals</emph>. +But ye do not understand me?— +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>3.</head> + +<p> +So far it is on Good and Evil that we have +meditated least profoundly: this was always too +dangerous a subject. Conscience, a good reputation, +hell, and at times even the police, have not +<pb n='003'/><anchor id='Pg003'/> +allowed and do not allow of impartiality; in the +presence of morality, as before all authority, we +<emph>must</emph> not even think, much less speak: here we +must obey! Ever since the beginning of the world, +no authority has permitted itself to be made the +subject of criticism; and to criticise morals—to +look upon morality as a problem, as problematic—what! +was that not—<emph>is</emph> that not—immoral?—But +morality has at its disposal not only every means +of intimidation wherewith to keep itself free from +critical hands and instruments of torture: its +security lies rather in a certain art of enchantment, +in which it is a past master—it knows how to +<q>enrapture.</q> It can often paralyse the critical +will with a single look, or even seduce it to itself: +yea, there are even cases where morality can turn +the critical will against itself; so that then, like the +scorpion, it thrusts the sting into its own body. +Morality has for ages been an expert in all kinds +of devilry in the art of convincing: even at the +present day there is no orator who would not turn +to it for assistance (only hearken to our anarchists, +for instance: how morally they speak when they +would fain convince! In the end they even call +themselves <q>the good and the just</q>). Morality +has shown herself to be the greatest mistress of +seduction ever since men began to discourse and +persuade on earth—and, what concerns us philosophers +even more, she is the veritable <emph>Circe of +philosophers</emph>. For, to what is it due that, from +Plato onwards, all the philosophic architects in +Europe have built in vain? that everything which +they themselves honestly believed to be <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>aere perennius</foreign> +<pb n='004'/><anchor id='Pg004'/> +threatens to subside or is already laid in ruins? +Oh, how wrong is the answer which, even in our own +day, rolls glibly off the tongue when this question is +asked: <q>Because they have all neglected the prerequisite, +the examination of the foundation, a +critique of all reason</q>—that fatal answer made by +Kant, who has certainly not thereby attracted us +modern philosophers to firmer and less treacherous +ground! (and, one may ask apropos of this, was it +not rather strange to demand that an instrument +should criticise its own value and effectiveness? +that the intellect itself should <q>recognise</q> its own +worth, power, and limits? was it not even just a +little ridiculous?) The right answer would rather +have been, that all philosophers, including Kant +himself were building under the seductive influence +of morality—that they aimed at certainty and +<q>truth</q> only in appearance; but that in reality +their attention was directed towards <q><emph>majestic moral +edifices</emph>,</q> to use once more Kant's innocent mode of +expression, who deems it his <q>less brilliant, but +not undeserving</q> task and work <q>to level the +ground and prepare a solid foundation for the +erection of those majestic moral edifices</q> (<hi rend='italic'>Critique +of Pure Reason</hi>, ii. 257). Alas! He did not +succeed in his aim, quite the contrary—as we must +acknowledge to-day. With this exalted aim, Kant +was merely a true son of his century, which more +than any other may justly be called the century +of exaltation: and this he fortunately continued +to be in respect to the more valuable side of this +century (with that solid piece of sensuality, for +example, which he introduced into his theory of +<pb n='005'/><anchor id='Pg005'/> +knowledge). He, too, had been bitten by the moral +tarantula, Rousseau; he, too, felt weighing on his +soul that moral fanaticism of which another disciple +of Rousseau's, Robespierre, felt and proclaimed +himself to be the executor: <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>de fonder sur la terre +l'empire de la sagesse, de la justice, et de la vertu</foreign>. +(Speech of June 4th, 1794.) On the other hand, +with such a French fanaticism in his heart, no one +could have cultivated it in a less French, more +deep, more thorough and more German manner—if +the word German is still permissible in this +sense—than Kant did: in order to make room for +<emph>his</emph> <q>moral kingdom,</q> he found himself compelled +to add to it an indemonstrable world, a logical +<q>beyond</q>—that was why he required his critique +of pure reason! In other words, <emph>he would not have +wanted it</emph>, if he had not deemed one thing to be +more important than all the others: to render his +moral kingdom unassailable by—or, better still, +invisible to, reason,—for he felt too strongly the +vulnerability of a moral order of things in the face +of reason. For, when confronted with nature and +history, when confronted with the ingrained <emph>immorality</emph> +of nature and history, Kant was, like all +good Germans from the earliest times, a pessimist: +he believed in morality, not because it is demonstrated +through nature and history, but despite its +being steadily contradicted by them. To understand +this <q>despite,</q> we should perhaps recall a +somewhat similar trait in Luther, that other great +pessimist, who once urged it upon his friends with +true Lutheran audacity: <q>If we could conceive by +reason alone how that God who shows so much +<pb n='006'/><anchor id='Pg006'/> +wrath and malignity could be merciful and just, +what use should we have for faith?</q> For, from +the earliest times, nothing has ever made a deeper +impression upon the German soul, nothing has +ever <q>tempted</q> it more, than that deduction, the +most dangerous of all, which for every true Latin +is a sin against the intellect: <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>credo quia absurdum +est</foreign>.—With it German logic enters for the first time +into the history of Christian dogma; but even to-day, +a thousand years later, we Germans of the present, +late Germans in every way, catch the scent of truth, +a <emph>possibility</emph> of truth, at the back of the famous +fundamental principle of dialectics with which +Hegel secured the victory of the German spirit +over Europe—<q>contradiction moves the world; all +things contradict themselves.</q> We are pessimists—even +in logic. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>4.</head> + +<p> +But logical judgments are not the deepest and +most fundamental to which the daring of our +suspicion descends: the confidence in reason which +is inseparable from the validity of these judgments, +is, as confidence, a <emph>moral</emph> phenomenon ... perhaps +German pessimism has yet to take its last step? +Perhaps it has once more to draw up its <q>credo</q> +opposite its <q>absurdum</q> in a terrible manner? +And if this book is pessimistic even in regard to +morals, even above the confidence in morals—should +it not be a German book for that very reason? +For, in fact, it represents a contradiction, and one +which it does not fear: in it confidence in morals +is retracted—but why? Out of <emph>morality</emph>! Or how +<pb n='007'/><anchor id='Pg007'/> +shall we call that which takes place in it—in <emph>us</emph>? +for our taste inclines to the employment of more +modest phrases. But there is no doubt that to us +likewise there speaketh a <q>thou shalt</q>; we likewise +obey a strict law which is set above us—and this +is the last cry of morals which is still audible to us, +which we too must <emph>live</emph>: here, if anywhere, are we +still <emph>men of conscience</emph>, because, to put the matter in +plain words, we will not return to that which we look +upon as decayed, outlived, and superseded, we will +not return to something <q>unworthy of belief,</q> +whether it be called God, virtue, truth, justice, love +of one's neighbour, or what not; we will not permit +ourselves to open up a lying path to old ideals; +we are thoroughly and unalterably opposed to +anything that would intercede and mingle with us; +opposed to all forms of present-day faith and +Christianity; opposed to the lukewarmness of all +romanticism and fatherlandism; opposed also to the +artistic sense of enjoyment and lack of principle +which would fain make us worship where we no +longer believe—for we are artists—opposed, in +short, to all this European feminism (or idealism, +if this term be thought preferable) which everlastingly +<q>draws upward,</q> and which in consequence +everlastingly <q>lowers</q> and <q>degrades.</q> Yet, being +men of <emph>this</emph> conscience, we feel that we are related +to that German uprightness and piety which dates +back thousands of years, although we immoralists +and atheists may be the late and uncertain offspring +of these virtues—yea, we even consider ourselves, +in a certain respect, as their heirs, the executors of +their inmost will: a pessimistic will, as I have already +<pb n='008'/><anchor id='Pg008'/> +pointed out, which is not afraid to deny itself, +because it denies itself with <emph>joy</emph>! In us is consummated, +if you desire a formula—<emph>the autosuppression +of morals</emph>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>5.</head> + +<p> +But, after all, why must we proclaim so loudly +and with such intensity what we are, what we want, +and what we do not want? Let us look at this more +calmly and wisely; from a higher and more distant +point of view. Let us proclaim it, as if among ourselves, +in so low a tone that all the world fails to +hear it and <emph>us</emph>! Above all, however, let us say it +<emph>slowly</emph>.... This preface comes late, but not too late: +what, after all, do five or six years matter? Such a +book, and such a problem, are in no hurry; besides, +we are friends of the <foreign lang='it' rend='italic'>lento</foreign>, I and my book. I have +not been a philologist in vain—perhaps I am one +yet: a teacher of slow reading. I even come to +write slowly. At present it is not only my habit, +but even my taste—a perverted taste, maybe—to +write nothing but what will drive to despair every +one who is <q>in a hurry.</q> For philology is that venerable +art which exacts from its followers one thing +above all—to step to one side, to leave themselves +spare moments, to grow silent, to become slow—the +leisurely art of the goldsmith applied to language: +an art which must carry out slow, fine work, and +attains nothing if not <foreign lang='it' rend='italic'>lento</foreign>. For this very reason +philology is now more desirable than ever before; +for this very reason it is the highest attraction and +incitement in an age of <q>work</q>: that is to say, of +haste, of unseemly and immoderate hurry-skurry, +<pb n='009'/><anchor id='Pg009'/> +which is intent upon <q>getting things done</q> at once, +even every book, whether old or new. Philology +itself, perhaps, will not <q>get things done</q> so +hurriedly: it teaches how to read <emph>well</emph>: <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> slowly, +profoundly, attentively, prudently, with inner +thoughts, with the mental doors ajar, with delicate +fingers and eyes ... my patient friends, this book +appeals only to perfect readers and philologists: +<emph>learn</emph> to read me well! +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Ruta, near Genoa</hi>, +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Autumn</hi>, 1886. +</p> + +</div> + +</div> + +<pb n='011'/><anchor id='Pg011'/> + +<div rend='page-break-before: always'> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Book I.</head> + +<div> +<head>1.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Subsequent Judgment.</hi>—All things that endure +for a long time are little by little so greatly +permeated by reason that their origin in unreason +becomes improbable. Does not almost every exact +statement of an origin strike us as paradoxical and +sacrilegious? Indeed, does not the true historian +constantly contradict? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>2.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Prejudice of the Learned.</hi>—Savants are +quite correct in maintaining the proposition that +men in all ages believed that they <emph>knew</emph> what was +good and evil, praiseworthy and blamable. But it +is a prejudice of the learned to say <emph>that we now +know it better</emph> than any other age. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>3.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Time for Everything.</hi>—When man assigned +a sex to all things, he did not believe that he +<pb n='012'/><anchor id='Pg012'/> +was merely playing; but he thought, on the contrary, +that he had acquired a profound insight:—it +was only at a much later period, and then only partly, +that he acknowledged the enormity of his error. In +the same way, man has attributed a moral relationship +to everything that exists, throwing the cloak of +<emph>ethical significance</emph> over the world's shoulders. One +day all that will be of just as much value, and no +more, as the amount of belief existing to-day in the +masculinity or femininity of the sun.<note place='foot'>This refers, of course, to the different genders of the +nouns in other languages. In German, for example, the +sun is feminine, and in French masculine.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>4.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Against the Fanciful Disharmony of the +Spheres.</hi>—We must once more sweep out of the +world all this <emph>false</emph> grandeur, for it is contrary to +the justice that all things about us may claim. +And for this reason we must not see or wish the +world to be more disharmonic than it is! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>5.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Be Thankful!</hi>—The most important result of +the past efforts of humanity is that we need no +longer go about in continual fear of wild beasts, +barbarians, gods, and our own dreams. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>6.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Juggler and his Counterpart.</hi>—That +which is wonderful in science is contrary to that +<pb n='013'/><anchor id='Pg013'/> +which is wonderful in the art of the juggler. For +the latter would wish to make us believe that we +see a very simple causality, where, in reality, an +exceedingly complex causality is in operation. +Science, on the other hand, forces us to give up our +belief in the simple causality exactly where everything +looks so easily comprehensible and we are +merely the victims of appearances. The simplest +things are <emph>very <q>complicated</q></emph>—we can never be +sufficiently astonished at them! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>7.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Reconceiving Our Feeling of Space.</hi>—Is +it real or imaginary things which have built up the +greater proportion of man's happiness? It is +certain, at all events, that the extent of the distance +between the highest point of happiness and the +lowest point of unhappiness has been established +only with the help of imaginary things. As a consequence, +<emph>this</emph> kind of a conception of space is +always, under the influence of science, becoming +smaller and smaller: in the same way as science +has taught us, and is still teaching us, to look upon +the earth as small—yea, to look upon the entire +solar system as a mere point. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>8.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Transfiguration.</hi>—Perplexed sufferers, confused +dreamers, the hysterically ecstatic—here we +have the three classes into which Raphael divided +mankind. We no longer consider the world in this +<pb n='014'/><anchor id='Pg014'/> +light—and Raphael himself dare not do so: his own +eyes would show him a new transfiguration. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>9.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Conception of the Morality of Custom.</hi>—In +comparison with the mode of life which prevailed +among men for thousands of years, we men of the +present day are living in a very immoral age: the +power of custom has been weakened to a remarkable +degree, and the sense of morality is so refined and +elevated that we might almost describe it as volatilised. +That is why we late comers experience such +difficulty in obtaining a fundamental conception of +the origin of morality: and even if we do obtain it, +our words of explanation stick in our throats, so +coarse would they sound if we uttered them! or to +so great an extent would they seem to be a slander +upon morality! Thus, for example, the fundamental +clause: morality is nothing else (and, above +all, nothing more) than obedience to customs, of +whatsoever nature they may be. But customs are +simply the traditional way of acting and valuing. +Where there is no tradition there is no morality; +and the less life is governed by tradition, the +narrower the circle of morality. The free man is +immoral, because it is his <emph>will</emph> to depend upon himself +and not upon tradition: in all the primitive +states of humanity <q>evil</q> is equivalent to <q>individual,</q> +<q>free,</q> <q>arbitrary,</q> <q>unaccustomed,</q> +<q>unforeseen,</q> <q>incalculable.</q> In such primitive +conditions, always measured by this standard, any +action performed—<emph>not</emph> because tradition commands +<pb n='015'/><anchor id='Pg015'/> +it, but for other reasons (<hi rend='italic'>e.g.</hi> on account of its individual +utility), even for the same reasons as had +been formerly established by custom—is termed +immoral, and is felt to be so even by the very man +who performs it, for it has not been done out of +obedience to the tradition. +</p> + +<p> +What is tradition? A higher authority, which +is obeyed, not because it commands what is +useful to us, but merely because it commands. +And in what way can this feeling for tradition +be distinguished from a general feeling of fear? +It is the fear of a higher intelligence which commands, +the fear of an incomprehensible power, +of something that is more than personal—there +is <emph>superstition</emph> in this fear. In primitive times +the domain of morality included education and +hygienics, marriage, medicine, agriculture, war, +speech and silence, the relationship between man +and man, and between man and the gods—morality +required that a man should observe her prescriptions +without thinking of <emph>himself</emph> as individual. +Everything, therefore, was originally custom, and +whoever wished to raise himself above it, had first +of all to make himself a kind of lawgiver and +medicine-man, a sort of demi-god—in other words, +he had to create customs, a dangerous and fearful +thing to do!—Who is the most moral man? On +the one hand, he who most frequently obeys the +law: <hi rend='italic'>e.g.</hi> he who, like the Brahmins, carries a consciousness +of the law about with him wherever he +may go, and introduces it into the smallest divisions +of time, continually exercising his mind in finding +opportunities for obeying the law. On the other +<pb n='016'/><anchor id='Pg016'/> +hand, he who obeys the law in the most difficult +cases. The most moral man is he who makes the +greatest <emph>sacrifices</emph> to morality; but what are the +greatest sacrifices? In answering this question +several different kinds of morality will be developed: +but the distinction between the morality +of the <emph>most frequent obedience</emph> and the morality of +the <emph>most difficult obedience</emph> is of the greatest importance. +Let us not be deceived as to the motives of +that moral law which requires, as an indication of +morality, obedience to custom in the most difficult +cases! Self-conquest is required, not by reason +of its useful consequences for the individual; but +that custom and tradition may appear to be dominant, +in spite of all individual counter desires and +advantages. The individual shall sacrifice himself—so +demands the morality of custom. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, those moralists who, like the +followers of Socrates, recommend self-control and +sobriety to the <emph>individual</emph> as his greatest possible +advantage and the key to his greatest personal +happiness, are <emph>exceptions</emph>—and if we ourselves do +not think so, this is simply due to our having been +brought up under their influence. They all take a +new path, and thereby bring down upon themselves +the utmost disapproval of all the representatives of +the morality of custom. They sever their connection +with the community, as immoralists, and are, +in the fullest sense of the word, evil ones. In the +same way, every Christian who <q>sought, above all +things, his <emph>own</emph> salvation,</q> must have seemed evil +to a virtuous Roman of the old school. Wherever +a community exists, and consequently also a +<pb n='017'/><anchor id='Pg017'/> +morality of custom, the feeling prevails that any +punishment for the violation of a custom is inflicted, +above all, on the community: this punishment is +a supernatural punishment, the manifestations +and limits of which are so difficult to understand, +and are investigated with such superstitious fear. +The community can compel any one member of it +to make good, either to an individual or to the +community itself, any ill consequences which may +have followed upon such a member's action. It can +also call down a sort of vengeance upon the head of +the individual by endeavouring to show that, as the +result of his action, a storm of divine anger has burst +over the community,—but, above all, it regards the +guilt of the individual more particularly as <emph>its own</emph> +guilt, and bears the punishment of the isolated individual +as its own punishment—<q>Morals,</q> they bewail +in their innermost heart, <q>morals have grown +lax, if such deeds as these are possible.</q> And every +individual action, every individual mode of thinking, +causes dread. It is impossible to determine +how much the more select, rare, and original minds +must have suffered in the course of time by being +considered as evil and dangerous, <emph>yea, because they +even looked upon themselves as such</emph>. Under the +dominating influence of the morality of custom, +originality of every kind came to acquire a bad +conscience; and even now the sky of the best minds +seems to be more overcast by this thought than it +need be. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>10.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Counter-motion between the Sense of +Morality and the Sense of Causality.</hi>—As +<pb n='018'/><anchor id='Pg018'/> +the sense of causality increases, so does the extent +of the domain of morality decrease: for every time +one has been able to grasp the necessary effects, and +to conceive them as distinct from all incidentals and +chance possibilities (<foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>post hoc</foreign>), one has, at the same +time, destroyed an enormous number of <emph>imaginary +causalities</emph>, which had hitherto been believed in +as the basis of morals—the real world is much +smaller than the world of our imagination—and +each time also one casts away a certain amount +of one's anxiousness and coercion, and some of +our reverence for the authority of custom is lost: +morality in general undergoes a diminution. He +who, on the other hand, wishes to increase it must +know how to prevent results from becoming controllable. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>11.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Morals and Medicines of the People.</hi>—Every +one is continuously occupied in bringing +more or less influence to bear upon the morals which +prevail in a community: most of the people bring +forward example after example to show the <emph>alleged +relationship between cause and effect</emph>, guilt and +punishment, thus upholding it as well founded and +adding to the belief in it. A few make new observations +upon the actions and their consequences, +drawing conclusions therefrom and laying down +laws; a smaller number raise objections and allow +belief in these things to become weakened.—But +they are all alike in the crude and <emph>unscientific</emph> +manner in which they set about their work: if it is +a question of objections to a law, or examples or +<pb n='019'/><anchor id='Pg019'/> +observations of it, or of its proof, confirmation, expression +or refutation, we always find the material +and method entirely valueless, as valueless as the +material and form of all popular medicine. Popular +medicines and popular morals are closely related, +and should not be considered and valued, as is still +customary, in so different a way: both are most +dangerous and make-believe sciences. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>12.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Consequence as Adjuvant Cause.</hi>—Formerly +the consequences of an action were considered, +not as the result of that action, but a voluntary +adjuvant—<hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> on the part of God. Can a +greater confusion be imagined? Entirely different +practices and means have to be brought into use for +actions and effects! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>13.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Towards the New Education of Mankind.</hi>—Help +us, all ye who are well-disposed and willing +to assist, lend your aid in the endeavour to do away +with that conception of punishment which has swept +over the whole world! No weed more harmful than +this! It is not only to the consequences of our +actions that this conception has been applied—and +how horrible and senseless it is to confuse cause and +effect with cause and punishment!—but worse has +followed: the pure accidentality of events has been +robbed of its innocence by this execrable manner +of interpreting conception of punishment. Yea, +they have even pushed their folly to such extremes +<pb n='020'/><anchor id='Pg020'/> +that they would have us look upon existence itself +as a punishment—from which it would appear that +the education of mankind had hitherto been confided +to cranky gaolers and hangmen. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>14.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Signification of Madness in the +History of Morality.</hi>—If, despite that formidable +pressure of the <q>morality of custom,</q> under +which all human communities lived—thousands of +years before our own era, and during our own era +up to the present day (we ourselves are dwelling in +the small world of exceptions, and, as it were, in an +evil zone):—if, I say, in spite of all this, new and +divergent ideas, valuations, and impulses have made +their appearance time after time, this state of things +has been brought about only with the assistance of +a dreadful associate: it was insanity almost everywhere +that paved the way for the new thought and +cast off the spell of an old custom and superstition. +Do ye understand why this had to be done through +insanity? by something which is in both voice and +appearance as horrifying and incalculable as the +demoniac whims of wind and sea, and consequently +calling for like dread and respect? by something +bearing upon it the signs of entire lack of consciousness +as clearly as the convulsions and foam of the +epileptic, which appeared to typify the insane +person as the mask and speaking-trumpet of some +divine being? by something that inspired even the +bearer of the new thought with awe and fear of +himself, and that, suppressing all remorse, drove +<pb n='021'/><anchor id='Pg021'/> +him on to become its prophet and martyr?—Well, +in our own time, we continually hear the statement +reiterated that genius is tinctured with madness +instead of good sense. Men of earlier ages were +far more inclined to believe that, wherever traces +of insanity showed themselves, a certain proportion +of genius and wisdom was likewise present—something +<q>divine,</q> as they whispered to one another. +More than this, they expressed their opinions on +the point with sufficient emphasis. <q>All the greatest +benefits of Greece have sprung from madness,</q> +said Plato, setting on record the opinion of the +entire ancient world. Let us take a step further: all +those superior men, who felt themselves irresistibly +urged on to throw off the yoke of some morality +or other, had no other resource—<emph>if they were not +really mad</emph>—than to feign madness, or actually to +become insane. And this holds good for innovators +in every department of life, and not only in religion +and politics. Even the reformer of the poetic metre +was forced to justify himself by means of madness. +(Thus even down to gentler ages madness remained +a kind of convention in poets, of which Solon, for instance, +took advantage when urging the Athenians +to reconquer Salamis.)—<q>How can one make one's +self mad when one is not mad and dare not feign to +be so?</q> Almost all the eminent men of antiquity +have given themselves up to this dreadful mode of +reasoning: a secret doctrine of artifices and dietetic +jugglery grew up around this subject and was +handed down from generation to generation, together +with the feeling of the innocence, even sanctity, of +such plans and meditations. The means of becoming +<pb n='022'/><anchor id='Pg022'/> +a medicine-man among the Indians, a saint +among Christians of the Middle Ages, an angecok +among Greenlanders, a Pagee among Brazilians, +are the same in essence: senseless fasting, continual +abstention from sexual intercourse, isolation +in a wilderness, ascending a mountain or a pillar, +<q>sitting on an aged willow that looks out upon a +lake,</q> and thinking of absolutely nothing but what +may give rise to ecstasy or mental derangements. +</p> + +<p> +Who would dare to glance at the desert of the +bitterest and most superfluous agonies of spirit, in +which probably the most productive men of all ages +have pined away? Who could listen to the sighs of +those lonely and troubled minds: <q>O ye heavenly +powers, grant me madness! Madness, that I at +length may believe in myself! Vouchsafe delirium +and convulsions, sudden flashes of light and periods +of darkness; frighten me with such shivering and +feverishness as no mortal ever experienced before, +with clanging noises and haunting spectres; let me +growl and whine and creep about like a beast, if +only I can come to believe in myself! I am devoured +by doubt. I have slain the law, and I now +dread the law as a living person dreads a corpse. +If I am not <emph>above</emph> the law, I am the most abandoned +of wretches. Whence cometh this new spirit that +dwelleth within me but from you? Prove to me, +then, that I am one of you—nothing but madness +will prove it to me.</q> And only too often does +such a fervour attain its object: at the very time +when Christianity was giving the greatest proof of +its fertility in the production of saints and martyrs, +believing that it was thus proving itself, Jerusalem +<pb n='023'/><anchor id='Pg023'/> +contained large lunatic asylums for shipwrecked +saints, for those whose last spark of good sense +had been quenched by the floods of insanity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>15.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The most Ancient Means of Solace.</hi>—First +stage: In every misfortune or discomfort +man sees something for which he must make somebody +else suffer, no matter who—in this way he +finds out the amount of power still remaining to +him; and this consoles him. Second stage: In +every misfortune or discomfort, man sees a punishment, +<hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> an expiation of guilt and the means by +which he may get rid of the malicious enchantment +of a real or apparent wrong. When he perceives +the <emph>advantage</emph> which misfortune bring with it, he +believes he need no longer make another person +suffer for it—he gives up this kind of satisfaction, +because he now has another. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>16.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>First Principle of Civilisation.</hi>—Among +savage tribes there is a certain category of customs +which appear to aim at nothing but custom. They +therefore lay down strict, and, on the whole, superfluous +regulations (<hi rend='italic'>e.g.</hi> the rules of the Kamchadales, +which forbid snow to be scraped off the boots +with a knife, coal to be stuck on the point of a +knife, or a piece of iron to be put into the fire—and +death to be the portion of every one who shall +act contrariwise!) Yet these laws serve to keep +people continually reminded of the custom, and +<pb n='024'/><anchor id='Pg024'/> +the imperative necessity on their parts to conform +to it: and all this in support of the great principle +which stands at the beginning of all civilisation: +any custom is better than none. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>17.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Goodness and Malignity.</hi>—At first men imposed +their own personalities on Nature: everywhere +they saw themselves and their like, <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> their +own evil and capricious temperaments, hidden, as +it were, behind clouds, thunder-storms, wild beasts, +trees, and plants: it was then that they declared +Nature was evil. Afterwards there came a time, +that of Rousseau, when they sought to distinguish +themselves from Nature: they were so +tired of each other that they wished to have +separate little hiding-places where man and his +misery could not penetrate: then they invented +<q>nature is good.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>18.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Morality of Voluntary Suffering.</hi>—What +is the highest enjoyment for men living in +a state of war in a small community, the existence +of which is continually threatened, and the morality +of which is the strictest possible? <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> for souls which +are vigorous, vindictive, malicious, full of suspicion, +ready to face the direst events, hardened by privation +and morality? The enjoyment of cruelty: +just as, in such souls and in such circumstances, it +would be regarded as a virtue to be ingenious and +insatiable in cruelty. Such a community would +<pb n='025'/><anchor id='Pg025'/> +find its delight in performing cruel deeds, casting +aside, for once, the gloom of constant anxiety and +precaution. Cruelty is one of the most ancient +enjoyments at their festivities. As a consequence +it is believed that the gods likewise are pleased by +the sight of cruelty and rejoice at it—and in this +way the belief is spread that <emph>voluntary suffering</emph>, +self-chosen martyrdom, has a high signification +and value of its own. In the community custom +gradually brings about a practice in conformity +with this belief: henceforward people become more +suspicious of all exuberant well-being, and more +confident as they find themselves in a state of great +pain; they think that the gods may be unfavourable +to them on account of happiness, and favourable +on account of pain—not compassionate! For +compassion is looked upon with contempt, and unworthy +of a strong and awe-inspiring soul—but +agreeable to them, because the sight of human +suffering put these gods into good humour and +makes them feel powerful, and a cruel mind revels +in the sensation of power. It was thus that the +<q>most moral man</q> of the community was considered +as such by virtue of his frequent suffering, +privation, laborious existence, and cruel mortification—not, +to repeat it again and again, as a means +of discipline or self-control or a desire for individual +happiness—but a a virtue which renders +the evil gods well-disposed towards the community, +a virtue which continually wafts up to them the +odour of an expiatory sacrifice. All those intellectual +leaders of the nations who reached the +point of being able to stir up the sluggish though +<pb n='026'/><anchor id='Pg026'/> +prolific mire of their customs had to possess this +factor of voluntary martyrdom as well as insanity +in order to obtain belief—especially, and above all, +as is always the case, belief in themselves! The +more their minds followed new paths, and were +consequently tormented by pricks of conscience, +the more cruelly they battled against their own flesh, +their own desires, and their own health—as if they +were offering the gods a compensation in pleasure, +lest these gods should wax wroth at the neglect of +ancient customs and the setting up of new aims. +</p> + +<p> +Let no one be too hasty in thinking that we have +now entirely freed ourselves from such a logic of +feeling! Let the most heroic souls among us +question themselves on this very point. The least +step forward in the domain of free thought and +individual life has been achieved in all ages to the +accompaniment of physical and intellectual tortures: +and not only the mere step forward, no! but every +form of movement and change has rendered necessary +innumerable martyrs, throughout the entire +course of thousands of years which sought their +paths and laid down their foundation-stones, years, +however, which we do not think of when we speak +about <q>world-history,</q> that ridiculously small +division of mankind's existence. And even in this +so-called world-history, which in the main is merely +a great deal of noise about the latest novelties, +there is no more important theme than the old, +old tragedy of the martyrs <emph>who tried to move the +mire</emph>. Nothing has been more dearly bought than +the minute portion of human reason and feeling of +liberty upon which we now pride ourselves. But +<pb n='027'/><anchor id='Pg027'/> +it is this very pride which makes it almost impossible +for us to-day to be conscious of that +enormous lapse of time, preceding the period of +<q>world-history</q> when <q>morality of custom</q> held +the field, and to consider this lapse of time as <emph>the +real and decisive epoch that established the character +of mankind</emph>: an epoch when suffering was considered +as a virtue, cruelty as a virtue, hypocrisy +as a virtue, revenge as a virtue, and the denial of +the reason as a virtue, whereas, on the other hand, +well-being was regarded as a danger, longing for +knowledge as a danger, peace as a danger, compassion +as a danger: an epoch when being pitied +was looked upon as an insult, work as an insult, +madness as a divine attribute, and every kind of +change as immoral and pregnant with ruin! You +imagine that all this has changed, and that +humanity must likewise have changed its character? +Oh, ye poor psychologists, learn to know yourselves +better! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>19.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Morality and Stupefaction.</hi>—Custom represents +the experiences of men of earlier times in +regard to what they considered as useful and harmful; +but the <emph>feeling of custom</emph> (morality) does not +relate to these feelings as such, but to the age, the +sanctity, and the unquestioned authority of the +custom. Hence this feeling hinders our acquiring +new experiences and amending morals: <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> morality +is opposed to the formation of new and better +morals: it stupefies. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='028'/><anchor id='Pg028'/> + +<div> +<head>20.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Free-doers and Free-thinkers.</hi>—Compared +with free-thinkers, free-doers are at a disadvantage, +because it is evident that men suffer +more from the consequences of actions than of +thoughts. If we remember, however, that both +seek their own satisfaction, and that free-thinkers +have already found their satisfaction in reflection +upon and utterance of forbidden things, there is +no difference in the motives; but in respect of +the consequences the issue will be decided against +the free-thinker, provided that it be not judged +from the most superficial and vulgar external +appearance, <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> not as every one would judge it. +We must make up for a good deal of the calumny +with which men have covered all those who have, +by their actions, broken away from the authority of +some custom—they are generally called criminals. +Every one who has hitherto overthrown a law of +established morality has always at first been considered +as a <emph>wicked man</emph>: but when it was afterwards +found impossible to re-establish the law, and +people gradually became accustomed to the change, +the epithet was changed by slow degrees. History +deals almost exclusively with these <emph>wicked men</emph>, +who later on came to be recognised as <emph>good men</emph>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>21.</head> + +<p> +<q><hi rend='smallcaps'>Fulfilment of the Law.</hi></q>—In cases where +the observance of a moral precept has led to +different consequence from that expected and +<pb n='029'/><anchor id='Pg029'/> +promised, and does not bestow upon the moral man +the happiness he had hoped for, but leads rather to +misfortune and misery, the conscientious and timid +man has always his excuse ready: <q>Something +was lacking in the proper <emph>carrying out</emph> of the law.</q> +If the worst comes to the worst, a deeply-suffering +and down-trodden humanity will even decree: <q>It +is impossible to carry out the precept faithfully: +we are too weak and sinful, and, in the depths of +our soul, incapable of morality: consequently we +have no claim to happiness and success. Moral +precepts and promises have been given for better +beings than ourselves.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>22.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Works and Faith.</hi>—Protestant teachers are +still spreading the fundamental error that faith +only is of consequence, and that works must follow +naturally upon faith. This doctrine is certainly +not true, but it is so seductive in appearance that +it has succeeded in fascinating quite other intellects +than that of Luther (<hi rend='italic'>e.g.</hi> the minds of Socrates and +Plato): though the plain evidence and experience +of our daily life prove the contrary. The most +assured knowledge and faith cannot give us either +the strength or the dexterity required for action, +or the practice in that subtle and complicated +mechanism which is a prerequisite for anything to +be changed from an idea into action. Then, I say, +let us first and foremost have works! and this +means practice! practice! practice! The necessary +faith will come later—be certain of that! +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='030'/><anchor id='Pg030'/> + +<div> +<head>23.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>In what Respect we are most Subtle.</hi>—By +the fact that, for thousands of years, <emph>things</emph> +(nature, tools, property of all kinds) were thought +to be alive and to possess souls, and able to hinder +and interfere with the designs of man, the feeling +of impotence among men has become greater and +more frequent than it need have been: for one +had to secure one's things like men and beasts, +by means of force, compulsion, flattery, treaties, +sacrifices—and it is here that we may find the +origin of the greater number of superstitious +customs, <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> of an important, <emph>perhaps paramount</emph>, +and nevertheless wasted and useless division of +mankind's activity!—But since the feeling of impotence +and fear was so strong, and for such a +length of time in a state of constant stimulation, +the feeling of <emph>power</emph> in man has been developed in +so subtle a manner that, in this respect, he can +compare favourably with the most delicately-adjusted +balance. This feeling has become his +strongest propensity: and the means he discovered +for creating it form almost the entire history of +culture. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>24.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Proof of a Precept.</hi>—The worth or +worthlessness of a recipe—that for baking bread, +for example—is proved, generally speaking, by +the result expected coming to pass or not, provided, +of course, that the directions given have been carefully +<pb n='031'/><anchor id='Pg031'/> +followed. The case is different, however, +when we come to deal with moral precepts, for +here the results cannot be ascertained, interpreted, +and divined. These precepts, indeed, are based +upon hypotheses of but little scientific value, the +proof or refutation of which by means of results is +impossible:—but in former ages, when all science +was crude and primitive, and when a matter was +<emph>taken for granted</emph> on the smallest evidence, then +the worth or worthlessness of a moral recipe was +determined as we now determine any other precept: +by reference to the results. If the natives of Alaska +believe in a command which says: <q>Thou shalt not +throw a bone into the fire or give it to a dog,</q> this +will be proved by the warning: <q>If thou dost thou +wilt have no luck when hunting.</q> Yet, in one +sense or another, it almost invariably happens that +one has <q>no luck when hunting.</q> It is no easy +matter to <emph>refute</emph> the worth of the precept in this +way, the more so as it is the community, and not +the individual, which is regarded as the bearer of +the punishment; and, again, some occurrence is +almost certain to happen which seems to prove the +rule. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>25.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Customs and Beauty.</hi>—In justice to custom +it must not be overlooked that, in the case of all +those who conform to it whole-heartedly from the +very start, the organs of attack and defence, both +physical and intellectual, begin to waste away; <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> +these individuals gradually become more beautiful! +For it is the exercise of these organs and their corresponding +<pb n='032'/><anchor id='Pg032'/> +feelings that brings about ugliness and +helps to preserve it. It is for this reason that the +old baboon is uglier than the young one, and that +the young female baboon most closely resembles +man, and is hence the most handsome.—Let us +draw from this our own conclusions as to the origin +of female beauty! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>26.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Animals and Morals.</hi>—The rules insisted +upon in polite society, such, for example, as the +avoidance of everything ridiculous, fantastic, presumptuous; +the suppression of one's virtues just as +much as of one's most violent desires, the instant +bringing of one's self down to the general level, submitting +one's self to etiquette and self-depreciation: +all this, generally speaking, is to be found, as a +social morality, even in the lowest scale of the +animal world—and it is only in this low scale that +we see the innermost plan of all these amiable precautionary +regulations: one wishes to escape from +one's pursuers and to be aided in the search for +plunder. Hence animals learn to control and to +disguise themselves to such an extent that some +of them can even adapt the colour of their +bodies to that of their surroundings (by means +of what is known as the <q>chromatic function</q>). +Others can simulate death, or adopt the forms +and colours of other animals, or of sand, leaves, +moss, or fungi (known to English naturalists as +<q>mimicry</q>). +</p> + +<p> +It is in this way that an individual conceals himself +behind the universality of the generic term +<pb n='033'/><anchor id='Pg033'/> +<q>man</q> or <q>society,</q> or adapts and attaches himself +to princes, castes, political parties, current +opinions of the time, or his surroundings: and we +may easily find the animal equivalent of all those +subtle means of making ourselves happy, thankful, +powerful, and fascinating. Even that sense of truth, +which is at bottom merely the sense of security, is +possessed by man in common with the animals: we +do not wish to be deceived by others or by ourselves; +we hear with some suspicion the promptings +of our own passions, we control ourselves and +remain on the watch against ourselves. Now, the +animal does all this as well as man; and in the +animal likewise self-control originates in the sense +of reality (prudence). In the same way, the animal +observes the effects it exercises on the imagination +of other beasts: it thus learns to view itself from +their position, to consider itself <q>objectively</q>; it +has its own degree of self-knowledge. The animal +judges the movements of its friends and foes, it +learns their peculiarities by heart and acts accordingly: +it gives up, once and for all, the struggle +against individual animals of certain species, and it +likewise recognises, in the approach of certain +varieties, whether their intentions are agreeable and +peaceful. The beginnings of justice, like those of +wisdom—in short, everything which we know as +the <emph>Socratic virtues</emph>—are of an <emph>animal</emph> nature: a +consequence of those instincts which teach us to +search for food and to avoid our enemies. If we +remember that the higher man has merely raised +and refined himself in the <emph>quality</emph> of his food and in +the conception of what is contrary to his nature, it +<pb n='034'/><anchor id='Pg034'/> +may not be going too far to describe the entire +moral phenomenon as of an animal origin. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>27.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Value of the Belief in Superhuman +Passions.</hi>—The institution of marriage stubbornly +upholds the belief that love, although a passion, is +nevertheless capable of duration as such, yea, that +lasting, lifelong love may be taken as a general +rule. By means of the tenacity of a noble belief, +in spite of such frequent and almost customary +refutations—thereby becoming a <foreign rend='italic'>pia fraus</foreign>—marriage +has elevated love to a higher rank. +Every institution which has conceded to a passion +the <emph>belief in the duration of the latter</emph>, and responsibility +for this duration, in spite of the nature of +the passion itself, has raised the passion to a higher +level: and he who is thenceforth seized with such +a passion does not, as formerly, think himself +lowered in the estimation of others or brought into +danger on that account, but on the contrary believes +himself to be raised, both in the opinion of himself +and of his equals. Let us recall institutions and +customs which, out of the fiery devotion of a +moment, have created eternal fidelity; out of the +pleasure of anger, eternal vengeance; out of despair, +eternal mourning; out of a single hasty word, +eternal obligation. A great deal of hypocrisy and +falsehood came into the world as the result of such +transformations; but each time, too, at the cost of +such disadvantages, a new and <emph>superhuman</emph> conception +which elevates mankind. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='035'/><anchor id='Pg035'/> + +<div> +<head>28.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>State of Mind as Argument.</hi>—Whence +arises within us a cheerful readiness for action?—such +is the question which has greatly occupied the +attention of men. The most ancient answer, and +one which we still hear, is: God is the cause; in +this way He gives us to understand that He approves +of our actions. When, in former ages, people +consulted the oracles, they did so that they might +return home strengthened by this cheerful readiness; +and every one answered the doubts which +came to him, if alternative actions suggested themselves, +by saying: <q>I shall do whatever brings +about that feeling.</q> They did not decide, in other +words, for what was most reasonable, but upon some +plan the conception of which imbued the soul with +courage and hope. A cheerful outlook was placed +in the scales as an argument and proved to be +heavier than reasonableness; for the state of mind +was interpreted in a superstitious manner as the +action of a god who promises success; and who, +by this argument, lets his reason speak as the +highest reasonableness. Now, let the consequences +of such a prejudice be considered when shrewd men, +thirsting for power, availed themselves of it—and +still do so! <q>Bring about the right state of mind!</q>—in +this way you can do without all arguments and +overcome every objection! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>29.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Actors of Virtue and Sin.</hi>—Among the +ancients who became celebrated for their virtue +<pb n='036'/><anchor id='Pg036'/> +there were many, it would seem, <emph>who acted to themselves</emph>, +especially the Greeks, who, being actors by +nature, must have acted quite unconsciously, seeing +no reason why they should not do so. In addition, +every one was striving to outdo some one else's +virtue with his own, so why should they not have +made use of every artifice to show off their virtues, +especially among themselves, if only for the sake of +practice! Of what use was a virtue which one could +not display, and which did not know how to display +itself!—Christianity put an end to the career of +these actors of virtue; instead it devised the disgusting +ostentation and parading of sins: it brought +into the world a state of <emph>mendacious sinfulness</emph> (even +at the present day this is considered as <foreign rend='italic'>bon ton</foreign> +among orthodox Christians). +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>30.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Refined Cruelty as Virtue.</hi>—Here we have +a morality which is based entirely upon our thirst +for distinction—do not therefore entertain too high +an opinion of it! Indeed, we may well ask what +kind of an impulse it is, and what is its fundamental +signification? It is sought, by our appearance, to +grieve our neighbour, to arouse his envy, and to +awaken his feelings of impotence and degradation; +we endeavour to make him taste the bitterness of +his fate by dropping a little of <emph>our</emph> honey on his +tongue, and, while conferring this supposed benefit on +him, looking sharply and triumphantly into his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Behold such a man, now become humble, and +perfect in his humility—and seek those for whom, +through his humility, he has for a long time been +<pb n='037'/><anchor id='Pg037'/> +preparing a torture; for you are sure to find them! +Here is another man who shows mercy towards +animals, and is admired for doing so—but there +are certain people on whom he wishes to vent his +cruelty by this very means. Look at that great +artist: the pleasure he enjoyed beforehand in conceiving +the envy of the rivals he had outstripped, +refused to let his powers lie dormant until he became +a great man—how many bitter moments in the +souls of other men has he asked for as payment for +his own greatness! The nun's chastity: with what +threatening eyes she looks into the faces of other +women who live differently from her! what a vindictive +joy shines in those eyes! The theme is +short, and its variations, though they might well be +innumerable, could not easily become tiresome—for +it is still too paradoxical a novelty, and almost a +painful one, to affirm that the morality of distinction +is nothing, at bottom, but joy in refined cruelty. +When I say <q>at bottom,</q> I mean here, every time +in the first generation. For, when the habit of some +distinguished action becomes <emph>hereditary</emph>, its root, so +to speak, is not transmitted, but only its fruits (for +only feelings, and not thoughts, can become hereditary): +and, if we presuppose that this root is not +reintroduced by education, in the second generation +the joy in the cruelty is no longer felt: but only +pleasure in the habit as such. <emph>This</emph> joy, however, +is the first degree of the <q>good.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>31.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pride in Spirit.</hi>—The pride of man, which +strives to oppose the theory of our own descent +<pb n='038'/><anchor id='Pg038'/> +from animals and establishes a wide gulf between +nature and man himself—this pride is founded +upon a prejudice as to what the mind is; and this +prejudice is relatively recent. In the long prehistorical +period of humanity it was supposed that +the mind was everywhere, and men did not look +upon it as a particular characteristic of their own. +Since, on the contrary, everything spiritual (including +all impulses, maliciousness, and inclinations) +was regarded as common property, and consequently +accessible to everybody, primitive mankind +was not ashamed of being descended from animals +or trees (the noble races thought themselves +honoured by such legends), and saw in the spiritual +that which unites us with nature, and not that which +severs us from her. Thus man was brought up in +modesty—and this likewise was the result of a +prejudice. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>32.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Brake.</hi>—To suffer morally, and then to +learn afterwards that this kind of suffering was +founded upon an error, shocks us. For there is a +unique consolation in acknowledging, by our suffering, +a <q>deeper world of truth</q> than any other world, +and we would much rather suffer and feel ourselves +above reality by doing so (through the feeling that, +in this way, we approach nearer to that <q>deeper +world of truth</q>), than live without suffering and +hence without this feeling of the sublime. Thus +it is pride, and the habitual fashion of satisfying it, +which opposes this new interpretation of morality. +What power, then, must we bring into operation to +<pb n='039'/><anchor id='Pg039'/> +get rid of this brake? Greater pride? A new +pride? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>33.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Contempt of Causes, Consequences, +and Reality.</hi>—Those unfortunate occurrences +which take place at times in the community, such +as sudden storms, bad harvests, or plagues, lead +members of the community to suspect that offences +against custom have been committed, or that new +customs must be invented to appease a new demoniac +power and caprice. Suspicion and reasoning +of this kind, however, evade an inquiry into the +real and natural causes, and take the demoniac cause +for granted. This is one source of the hereditary +perversion of the human intellect; and the other +one follows in its train, for, proceeding on the same +principle, people paid much less attention to the real +and natural consequences of an action than to the +supernatural consequences (the so-called punishments +and mercies of the Divinity). It is commanded, +for instance, that certain baths are to be +taken at certain times: and the baths are taken, +not for the sake of cleanliness, but because the command +has been made. We are not taught to avoid +the real consequences of dirt, but merely the supposed +displeasure of the gods because a bath has +been omitted. Under the pressure of superstitious +fear, people began to suspect that these ablutions +were of much greater importance than they seemed; +they ascribed inner and supplementary meanings to +them, gradually lost their sense of and pleasure in +reality, and finally reality is considered as valuable +<pb n='040'/><anchor id='Pg040'/> +<emph>only to the extent that it is a symbol.</emph> Hence a man +who is under the influence of the morality of +custom comes to despise causes first of all, secondly +consequences, and thirdly reality, and weaves all his +higher feelings (reverence, sublimity, pride, gratitude, +love) <emph>into an imaginary world</emph>: the so-called +higher world. And even to-day we can see the +consequences of this: wherever, and in whatever +fashion, man's feelings are raised, that imaginary +world is in evidence. It is sad to have to say it; +but for the time being <emph>all higher sentiments</emph> must +be looked upon with suspicion by the man of +science, to so great an extent are they intermingled +with illusion and extravagance. Not that they +need necessarily be suspected <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>per se</foreign> and for ever; +but there is no doubt that, of all the gradual <emph>purifications</emph> +which await humanity, the purification of +the higher feelings will be one of the slowest. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>34.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Moral Feelings and Conceptions.</hi>—It is +clear that moral feelings are transmitted in such a +way that children perceive in adults violent predilections +and aversions for certain actions, and +then, like born apes, imitate such likes and dislikes. +Later on in life, when they are thoroughly +permeated by these acquired and well-practised +feelings, they think it a matter of propriety and +decorum to provide a kind of justification for +these predilections and aversions. These <q>justifications,</q> +however, are in no way connected with the +origin or the degree of the feeling: people simply +<pb n='041'/><anchor id='Pg041'/> +accommodate themselves to the rule that, as rational +beings, they must give reasons for their pros and +cons, reasons which must be assignable and acceptable +into the bargain. Up to this extent the history +of the moral feelings is entirely different from the +history of moral conceptions. The first-mentioned +are powerful <emph>before</emph> the action, and the latter +especially after it, in view of the necessity for making +one's self clear in regard to them. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>35.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Feelings and their Descent from Judgments.</hi>—<q>Trust +in your feelings!</q> But feelings +comprise nothing final, original; feelings are based +upon the judgments and valuations which are transmitted +to us in the shape of feelings (inclinations, +dislikes). The inspiration which springs from a +feeling is the grandchild of a judgment—often an +erroneous judgment!—and certainly not one's own +judgment! Trusting in our feelings simply means +obeying our grandfather and grandmother more +than the gods within <emph>ourselves</emph>: our reason and +experience. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>36.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Foolish Piety, with <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>Arrière-pensées</foreign>.</hi>—What! +the inventors of ancient civilisations, the +first makers of tools and tape lines, the first builders +of vehicles, ships, and houses, the first observers of +the laws of the heavens and the multiplication tables—is +it contended that they were entirely different +from the inventors and observers of our own time, +<pb n='042'/><anchor id='Pg042'/> +and superior to them? And that the first slow +steps forward were of a value which has not been +equalled by the discoveries we have made with all +our travels and circumnavigations of the earth? +It is the voice of prejudice that speaks thus, and +argues in this way to depreciate the importance of +the modern mind. And yet it is plain to be seen +that, in former times, hazard was the greatest of +all discoverers and observers and the benevolent +prompter of these ingenious ancients, and that, in +the case of the most insignificant invention now +made, a greater intellect, discipline, and scientific +imagination are required than formerly existed +throughout long ages. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>37.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Wrong Conclusions From Usefulness.</hi>—When +we have demonstrated the highest utility of +a thing, we have nevertheless made no progress +towards an explanation of its origin; in other words, +we can never explain, by mere utility, the necessity +of existence. But precisely the contrary opinion +has been maintained up to the present time, even +in the domain of the most exact science. In +astronomy, for example, have we not heard it +stated that the (supposed) usefulness of the system +of satellites—(replacing the light which is diminished +in intensity by the greater distance of the +sun, in order that the inhabitants of the various +celestial bodies should not want for light)—was +the final object of this system and explained its +origin? Which may remind us of the conclusions +of Christopher Columbus The earth has been +<pb n='043'/><anchor id='Pg043'/> +created for man, ergo, if there are countries, they +must be inhabited. <q>Is it probable that the sun +would throw his rays on nothing, and that the +nocturnal vigils of the stars should be wasted upon +untravelled seas and unpeopled countries?</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>38.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Impulses Transformed by Moral Judgments.</hi>—The +same impulse, under the impression +of the blame cast upon it by custom, develops into +the painful feeling of cowardice, or else the pleasurable +feeling of <emph>humility</emph>, in case a morality, like +that of Christianity, has taken it to its heart and +called it <emph>good</emph>. In other words, this instinct will +fall under the influence of either a good conscience +or a bad one! In itself, <emph>like every instinct</emph>, it does +not possess either this or indeed any other moral +character and name, or even a definite accompanying +feeling of pleasure or displeasure; it does not +acquire all these qualities as its second nature until +it comes into contact with impulses which have +already been baptized as good and evil, or has been +recognised as the attribute of beings already weighed +and valued by the people from a moral point of +view. Thus the ancient conception of envy differed +entirely from ours. Hesiod reckons it among the +qualities of the <emph>good</emph>, benevolent Eris, and it was +not considered as offensive to attribute some kind +of envy even to the gods. This is easy to understand +in a state of things inspired mainly by emulation, +but emulation was looked upon as good, +and valued accordingly. +</p> + +<pb n='044'/><anchor id='Pg044'/> + +<p> +The Greeks were likewise different from us in +the value they set upon hope: they conceived it as +blind and deceitful. Hesiod in one of his poems +has made a strong reference to it—a reference so +strong, indeed, that no modern commentator has +quite understood it; for it runs contrary to the +modern mind, which has learnt from Christianity +to look upon hope as a virtue. Among the Greeks, +on the other hand, the portal leading to a knowledge +of the future seemed only partly closed, and, +in innumerable instances, it was impressed upon +them as a religious obligation to inquire into the +future, in those cases where we remain satisfied with +hope. It thus came about that the Greeks, thanks +to their oracles and seers, held hope in small esteem, +and even lowered it to the level of an evil and a +danger. +</p> + +<p> +The Jews, again, took a different view of anger +from that held by us, and sanctified it: hence they +have placed the sombre majesty of the wrathful +man at an elevation so high that a European cannot +conceive it. They moulded their wrathful and +holy Jehovah after the images of their wrathful +and holy prophets. Compared with them, all the +Europeans who have exhibited the greatest wrath +are, so to speak, only second-hand creatures. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>39.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Prejudice concerning <q>Pure Spirit.</q></hi>—Wherever +the doctrine of <emph>pure spirituality</emph> has +prevailed, its excesses have resulted in the destruction +of the tone of the nerves: it taught that the +<pb n='045'/><anchor id='Pg045'/> +body should be despised, neglected, or tormented, +and that, on account of his impulses, man himself +should be tortured and regarded with contempt. +It gave rise to gloomy, strained, and downcast +souls—who, besides, thought they knew the reason +of their misery and how it might possibly be relieved! +<q>It <emph>must</emph> be in the body! For it still +<emph>thrives</emph> too well!</q>—such was their conclusion, +whilst the fact was that the body, through its +agonies, protested time after time against this +never-ending mockery. Finally, a universal and +chronic hyper-nervousness seized upon those +virtuous representatives of the pure spirit: they +learned to recognise joy only in the shape of +ecstasies and other preliminary symptoms of insanity—and +their system reached its climax when +it came to look upon ecstasy as the highest aim +of life, and as the standard by which all earthly +things must be <emph>condemned</emph>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>40.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Meditations upon Observances.</hi>—Numerous +moral precepts, carelessly drawn from +a single event, quickly became incomprehensible; +it was as difficult a matter to deduce their intentions +with any degree of certainty as it was to +recognise the punishment which was to follow the +breaking of the rule. Doubts were even held regarding +the order of the ceremonies; but, while +people guessed at random about such matters, +the object of their investigations increased in importance, +it was precisely the greatest absurdity +<pb n='046'/><anchor id='Pg046'/> +of an observance that developed into a holy of +holies. Let us not think too little of the energy +wasted by man in this regard throughout thousands +of years, and least of all of the effects of +such <emph>meditations upon observances</emph>! Here we find +ourselves on the wide training-ground of the intellect—not +only do religions develop and continue +to increase within its boundaries: but here +also is the venerable, though dreadful, primeval +world of science; here grow up the poet, the +thinker, the physician, the lawgiver. The dread +of the unintelligible, which, in an ambiguous +fashion, demanded ceremonies from us, gradually +assumed the charm of the intricate, and where +man could not unravel he learnt to create. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>41.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To Determine the Value of the <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>Vita +Contemplativa</foreign>.</hi>—Let us not forget, as men leading +a contemplative life, what kind of evil and +misfortunes have overtaken the men of the <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>vita +activa</foreign> as the result of contemplation—in short, +what sort of contra-account the <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>vita activa</foreign> has to +offer <emph>us</emph>, if we exhibit too much boastfulness before +it with respect to our good deeds. It would show +us, in the first place, those so-called religious +natures, who predominate among the lovers of +contemplation and consequently represent their +commonest type. They have at all times acted in +such a manner as to render life difficult to practical +men, and tried to make them disgusted with it, +if possible: to darken the sky, to obliterate the +<pb n='047'/><anchor id='Pg047'/> +sun, to cast suspicion upon joy, to depreciate hope, +to paralyse the active hand—all this they knew +how to do, just as, for miserable times and feelings, +they had their consolations, alms, blessings, and +benedictions. In the second place, it can show us +the artists, a species of men leading the <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>vita contemplativa</foreign>, +rarer than the religious element, but +still often to be met with. As beings, these people +are usually intolerable, capricious, jealous, violent, +quarrelsome: this, however, must be deduced +from the joyous and exalting effects of their +works. +</p> + +<p> +Thirdly, we have the philosophers, men who +unite religious and artistic qualities, combined, +however, with a third element, namely, dialectics +and the love of controversy. They are the authors +of evil in the same sense as the religious men and +artists, in addition to which they have wearied many +of their fellow-men with their passion for dialectics, +though their number has always been very small. +Fourthly, the thinkers and scientific workers. +They but rarely strove after effects, and contented +themselves with silently sticking to their own +groove. Thus they brought about little envy and +discomfort, and often, as objects of mockery and +derision, they served, without wishing to do so, to +make life easier for the men of the <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>vita activa</foreign>. +Lastly, science ended by becoming of much advantage +to all; and if, <emph>on account of this utility</emph>, many +of the men who were destined for the <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>vita activa</foreign> +are now slowly making their way along the road +to science in the sweat of their brow, and not without +brain-racking and maledictions, this is not the +<pb n='048'/><anchor id='Pg048'/> +fault of the crowd of thinkers and scientific workers: +it is <q>self-wrought pain.</q><note place='foot'>M. Henri Albert points out that this refers to a line of Paul +Gerhardt's well-known song: <q>Befiel du deine Wege.</q> <hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>42.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Origin of the <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>Vita Contemplativa</foreign>.</hi>—During +barbarous ages, when pessimistic judgments +held sway over men and the world, the individual, +in the consciousness of his full power, always endeavoured +to act in conformity with such judgments, +that is to say, he put his ideas into action +by means of hunting, robbery, surprise attacks, +brutality, and murder: including the weaker forms +of such acts, as far as they are tolerated within the +community. When his strength declines, however, +and he feels tired, ill, melancholy, or satiated—consequently +becoming temporarily void of wishes +or desires—he is a relatively better man, that is +to say, less dangerous; and his pessimistic ideas +will now discharge themselves only in words and +reflections—upon his companions, for example, or +his wife, his life, his gods,—his judgments will be +<emph>evil</emph> ones. In this frame of mind he develops into +a thinker and prophet, or he adds to his superstitions +and invents new observances, or mocks his +enemies. Whatever he may devise, however, all +the productions of his brain will necessarily reflect +his frame of mind, such as the increase of fear and +weariness, and the lower value he attributes to +action and enjoyment. The substance of these +productions must correspond to the substance of +<pb n='049'/><anchor id='Pg049'/> +these poetic, thoughtful, and priestly moods; the +evil judgment must be supreme. +</p> + +<p> +In later years, all those who acted continuously +as this man did in those special circumstances—<hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> +those who gave out pessimistic judgments, and +lived a melancholy life, poor in action—were called +poets, thinkers, priests, or <q>medicine-men.</q> The +general body of men would have liked to disregard +such people, because they were not active enough, +and to turn them out of the community; but there +was a certain risk in doing so: these inactive men +had found out and were following the tracks of +superstition and divine power, and no one doubted +that they had unknown means of power at their +disposal. This was the value which was set upon +<emph>the ancient race of contemplative natures</emph>—despised +as they were in just the same degree as they were +not dreaded! In such a masked form, in such an +ambiguous aspect, with an evil heart and often with +a troubled head, did Contemplation make its first +appearance on earth: both weak and terrible at +the same time, despised in secret, and covered in +public with every mark of superstitious veneration. +Here, as always, we must say: <foreign rend='italic'>pudenda origo</foreign>! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>43.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How many Forces must now be united +in a Thinker.</hi>—To rise superior to considerations +of the senses, to raise one's self to abstract contemplations: +this is what was formerly regarded +as <emph>elevation</emph>; but now it is not practicable for us +to share the same feelings. Luxuriating in the +<pb n='050'/><anchor id='Pg050'/> +most shadowy images of words and things; playing +with those invisible, inaudible, imperceptible +beings, was considered as existence in another +and <emph>higher</emph> world, a world that sprang from the deep +contempt felt for the world which was perceptible +to the senses, this seductive and wicked world +of ours. <q>These <foreign rend='italic'>abstracta</foreign> no longer mislead us, +but they may lead us</q>—with such words men +soared aloft. It was not the <emph>substance</emph> of these +intellectual sports, but the sports themselves, which +was looked upon as <q>the higher thing</q> in the +primeval ages of science. Hence we have Plato's +admiration for dialectics, and his enthusiastic belief +in the necessary relationship of dialectics to the +good man who has risen superior to the considerations +of his senses. It was not only knowledge +that was discovered little by little, but also the +different means of acquiring it, the conditions and +operations which precede knowledge in man. And +it always seemed as if the newly-discovered operation +or the newly-experienced condition were not +a means of acquiring knowledge, but was even the +substance, goal, and sum-total of everything that +was worth knowing. What does the thinker require?—imagination, +inspiration, abstraction, +spirituality, invention, presentiment, induction, +dialectics, deduction, criticism, ability to collect +materials, an impersonal mode of thinking, contemplation, +comprehensiveness, and lastly, but not +least, justice, and love for everything that exists—but +each one of these means was at one time considered, +in the history of the <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>vita contemplativa</foreign>, as +a goal and final purpose, and they all secured for +<pb n='051'/><anchor id='Pg051'/> +their inventors that perfect happiness which fills +the human soul when its final purpose dawns upon +it. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>44.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Origin and Meaning.</hi>—Why does this +thought come into my mind again and again, +always in more and more vivid colours?—that, in +former times, investigators, in the course of their +search for the origin of things, always thought that +they found something which would be of the highest +importance for all kinds of action and judgment: +yea, that they even invariably postulated that the +salvation of mankind depended upon <emph>insight into +the origin of things</emph>—whereas now, on the other +hand, the more we examine into origins, the less +do they concern our interests: on the contrary, +all the valuations and interestedness which we +have placed upon things begin to lose their meaning, +the more we retrogress where knowledge is +concerned and approach the things themselves. +<emph>The origin becomes of less significance in proportion +as we acquire insight into it</emph>; whilst things nearest +to ourselves, around and within us, gradually begin +to manifest their wealth of colours, beauties, +enigmas, and diversity of meaning, of which earlier +humanity never dreamed. In former ages thinkers +used to move furiously about, like wild animals in +cages, steadily glaring at the bars which hemmed +them in, and at times springing up against them +in a vain endeavour to break through them: and +happy indeed was he who could look through a +gap to the outer world and could fancy that +<pb n='052'/><anchor id='Pg052'/> +he saw something of what lay beyond and afar +off. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>45.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Tragic Termination to Knowledge.</hi>—Of +all the means of exaltation, human sacrifices +have at times done most to elevate man. And +perhaps the one powerful thought—the idea of +<emph>self-sacrificing humanity</emph>—might be made to prevail +over every other aspiration, and thus to prove +the victor over even the most victorious. But to +whom should the sacrifice be made? We may +already swear that, if ever the constellation of such +an idea appeared on the horizon, the knowledge of +truth would remain the single but enormous object +with which a sacrifice of such a nature would be +commensurate—because no sacrifice is too great +for it. In the meantime the problem has never +been expounded as to how far humanity, considered +as a whole, could take steps to encourage +the advancement of knowledge; and even less as +to what thirst for knowledge could impel humanity +to the point of sacrificing itself with the light of an +anticipated wisdom in its eyes. When, perhaps, with +a view to the advancement of knowledge, we are +able to enter into communication with the inhabitants +of other stars, and when, during thousands of +years, wisdom will have been carried from star to +star, the enthusiasm of knowledge may rise to such +a dizzy height! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>46.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Doubt in Doubt.</hi>—<q>What a good pillow doubt +is for a well-balanced head!</q> This saying of +<pb n='053'/><anchor id='Pg053'/> +Montaigne always made Pascal angry, for nobody +ever wanted a good pillow so much as he did. +Whatever was the matter with him? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>47.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Words block up our Path.</hi>—Wherever +primitive men put down a word, they thought they +had made a discovery. How different the case +really was!—they had come upon a problem, and, +while they thought they had solved it, they had in +reality placed an obstacle in the way of its solution. +Now, with every new piece of knowledge, we stumble +over petrified words and mummified conceptions, and +would rather break a leg than a word in doing so. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>48.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><q>Know Thyself</q> is the Whole of Science.</hi>—Only +when man shall have acquired a knowledge +of all things will he be able to know himself. For +things are but the boundaries of man. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>49.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The New Fundamental Feeling: our +Final Corruptibility.</hi>—In former times people +sought to show the feeling of man's greatness by +pointing to his divine descent. This, however, has +now become a forbidden path, for the ape stands at +its entrance, and likewise other fearsome animals, +showing their teeth in a knowing fashion, as if to +say, No further this way! Hence people now try the +opposite direction: the road along which humanity +is proceeding shall stand as an indication of their +<pb n='054'/><anchor id='Pg054'/> +greatness and their relationship to God. But alas! +this, too, is useless! At the far end of this path +stands the funeral urn of the last man and grave-digger +(with the inscription, <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>Nihil humani a me +alienum puto</foreign>). To whatever height mankind may +have developed—and perhaps in the end it will not +be so high as when they began!—there is as little +prospect of their attaining to a higher order as there +is for the ant and the earwig to enter into kinship +with God and eternity at the end of their career on +earth. What is to come will drag behind it that +which has passed: why should any little star, or +even any little species on that star, form an exception +to that eternal drama? Away with such sentimentalities! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<anchor id='Sect_50'/> +<head>50.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Belief in Inebriation.</hi>—Those men who have +moments of sublime ecstasy, and who, on ordinary +occasions, on account of the contrast and the excessive +wearing away of their nervous forces, usually +feel miserable and desolate, come to consider such +moments as the true manifestation of their real +selves, of their <q>ego,</q> and their misery and dejection, +on the other hand, as the <emph>effect of the <q>non-ego</q></emph>. +This is why they think of their environment, +the age in which they live, and the whole world in +which they have their being, with feelings of +vindictiveness. This intoxication appears to them +as their true life, their actual ego; and everywhere +else they see only those who strive to oppose and +prevent this intoxication, whether of an intellectual, +moral, religious, or artistic nature. +</p> + +<pb n='055'/><anchor id='Pg055'/> + +<p> +Humanity owes no small part of its evils to these +fantastic enthusiasts; for they are the insatiable +sowers of the weed of discontent with one's self and +one's neighbour, of contempt for the world and the +age, and, above all, of world-lassitude. An entire +hell of criminals could not, perhaps, bring about +such unfortunate and far-reaching consequences, +such heavy and disquieting effects that corrupt +earth and sky, as are brought about by that +<q>noble</q> little community of unbridled, fantastic, +half-mad people—of geniuses, too—who cannot +control themselves, or experience any inward joy, +until they have lost themselves completely: while, +on the other hand, the criminal often gives a proof +of his admirable self-control, sacrifice, and wisdom, +and thus maintains these qualities in those who fear +him. Through him life's sky may at times seem +overcast and threatening, but the atmosphere ever +remains brisk and vigorous.—Furthermore, these +enthusiasts bring their entire strength to bear on +the task of imbuing mankind with belief in inebriation +as in life itself: a dreadful belief! As savages +are now quickly corrupted and ruined by <q>fire-water,</q> +so likewise has mankind in general been +slowly though thoroughly corrupted by these +spiritual <q>fire-waters</q> of intoxicating feelings and +by those who keep alive the craving for them. It +may yet be ruined thereby. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>51.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Such as we still are.</hi>—<q>Let us be indulgent +to the great one-eyed!</q> said Stuart Mill, as if it +<pb n='056'/><anchor id='Pg056'/> +were necessary to ask for indulgence when we are +willing to believe and almost to worship them. I +say: Let us be indulgent towards the two-eyed, +both great and small; for, <emph>such as we are now</emph>, we +shall never rise beyond indulgence! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>52.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Where are the New Physicians of the +Soul?</hi>—It is the means of consolation which have +stamped life with that fundamental melancholy +character in which we now believe: the worst +disease of mankind has arisen from the struggle +against diseases, and apparent remedies have in the +long run brought about worse conditions than those +which it was intended to remove by their use. Men, +in their ignorance, used to believe that the stupefying +and intoxicating means, which appeared to act +immediately, the so-called <q>consolations,</q> were the +true healing powers: they even failed to observe +that they had often to pay for their immediate relief +by a general and profound deterioration in health, +that the sick ones had to suffer from the after-effects +of the intoxication, then from the absence of the +intoxication, and, later on, from a feeling of disquietude, +depression, nervous starts, and ill-health. +Again, men whose illness had advanced to a certain +extent never recovered from it—those physicians +of the soul, universally believed in and worshipped +as they were, took care of that. +</p> + +<p> +It has been justly said of Schopenhauer that he +was one who again took the sufferings of humanity +seriously: where is the man who will at length take +<pb n='057'/><anchor id='Pg057'/> +the antidotes against these sufferings seriously, and +who will pillory the unheard-of quackery with which +men, even up to our own age, and in the most +sublime nomenclature, have been wont to treat +the illnesses of their souls? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>53.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Abuse of the Conscientious Ones.</hi>—It is +the conscientious, and not the unscrupulous, who +have suffered so greatly from exhortations to +penitence and the fear of hell, especially if they +happened to be men of imagination. In other words, +a gloom has been cast over the lives of those who +had the greatest need of cheerfulness and agreeable +images—not only for the sake of their own consolation +and recovery from themselves, but that +humanity itself might take delight in them and +absorb a ray of their beauty. Alas, how much +superfluous cruelty and torment have been brought +about by those religions which invented sin! and +by those men who, by means of such religions, +desired to reach the highest enjoyment of their +power! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>54.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Thoughts on Disease.</hi>—To soothe the imagination +of the patient, in order that he may at +least no longer keep on thinking about his illness, +and thus suffer more from such thoughts than from +the complaint itself, which has been the case +hitherto—that, it seems to me, is something! and +it is by no means a trifle! And now do ye understand +our task? +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='058'/><anchor id='Pg058'/> + +<div> +<head>55.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The <q>Ways.</q></hi>—So-called <q>short cuts</q> have +always led humanity to run great risks: on hearing +the <q>glad tidings</q> that a <q>short cut</q> had been +found, they always left the straight path—<emph>and lost +their way</emph>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>56.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Apostate of the Free Spirit.</hi>—Is +there any one, then, who seriously dislikes pious +people who hold formally to their belief? Do we +not, on the contrary, regard them with silent esteem +and pleasure, deeply regretting at the same time +that these excellent people do not share our own +feelings? But whence arises that sudden, profound, +and unreasonable dislike for the man who, having +at one time possessed freedom of spirit, finally +becomes a <q>believer</q>? In thinking of him we +involuntarily experience the sensation of having +beheld some loathsome spectacle, which we must +quickly efface from our recollection. Should we +not turn our backs upon even the most venerated +man if we entertained the least suspicion of him +in this regard? Not, indeed, from a moral point +of view, but because of sudden disgust and horror! +Whence comes this sharpness of feeling? Perhaps +we shall be given to understand that, at bottom, +we are not quite certain of our own selves? Or +that, early in life, we build round ourselves hedges +of the most pointed contempt, in order that, when +old age makes us weak and forgetful, we may not +feel inclined to brush our own contempt away from +us? +</p> + +<pb n='059'/><anchor id='Pg059'/> + +<p> +Now, speaking frankly, this suspicion is quite +erroneous, and whoever forms it knows nothing of +what agitates and determines the free spirit: how +little, to him, does the <emph>changing</emph> of an opinion seem +contemptible <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>per se</foreign>! On the contrary, how highly +he prizes the <emph>ability</emph> to change an opinion as a rare +and valuable distinction, especially if he can retain +it far into old age! And his pride (not his pusillanimity) +even reaches so high as to be able to +pluck the fruits of the <foreign rend='italic'>spernere se sperni</foreign> and the +<foreign rend='italic'>spernere se ipsum</foreign>: without his being troubled by +the sensation of fear of vain and easy-going men. +Furthermore, the doctrine of the innocence of all +opinions appears to him to be as certain as the +doctrine of the innocence of all actions: how could +he act as judge and hangman before the apostate +of intellectual liberty! On the contrary, the sight +of such a person would disgust him as much as +the sight of a nauseous illness disgusts the physician: +the physical repulsion caused by everything +spongy, soft, and suppurating momentarily overcomes +reason and the desire to help. Hence our +goodwill is overcome by the conception of the +monstrous dishonesty which must have gained the +upper hand in the apostate from the free spirit: +by the conception of a general gnawing which is +eating its way down even to the framework of the +character. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>57.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Other Fears, other Safeties.</hi>—Christianity +overspread life with a new and unlimited +<emph>insecurity</emph>, thereby creating new safeties, enjoyments +<pb n='060'/><anchor id='Pg060'/> +and recreations, and new valuations of all +things. Our own century denies the existence of +this insecurity, and does so with a good conscience, +yet it clings to the old habit of Christian +certainties, enjoyments, recreations, and valuations!—even +in its noblest arts and philosophies. How +feeble and worn out must all this now seem, how +imperfect and clumsy, how arbitrarily fanatical, +and, above all, how uncertain: now that its horrible +contrast has been taken away—the ever-present +fear of the Christian for his <emph>eternal</emph> salvation! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>58.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Christianity and the Emotions.</hi>—In Christianity +we may see a great popular protest against +philosophy: the reasoning of the sages of antiquity +had withdrawn men from the influence of the +emotions, but Christianity would fain give men +their emotions back again. With this aim in view, +it denies any moral value to virtue such as philosophers +understood it—as a victory of the reason +over the passions—generally condemns every kind +of goodness, and calls upon the passions to manifest +themselves in their full power and glory: as <emph>love</emph> of +God, <emph>fear</emph> of God, fanatic <emph>belief</emph> in God, blind <emph>hope</emph> +in God. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>59.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Error as a Cordial.</hi>—Let people say what +they will, it is nevertheless certain that it was the +aim of Christianity to deliver mankind from the +yoke of moral engagements by indicating what it +<pb n='061'/><anchor id='Pg061'/> +believed to be the <emph>shortest way to perfection</emph>: exactly +in the same manner as a few philosophers thought +they could dispense with tedious and laborious +dialectics, and the collection of strictly-proved +facts, and point out a royal road to truth. It +was an error in both cases, but nevertheless a great +cordial for those who were worn out and despairing +in the wilderness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>60.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>All Spirit finally becomes Visible.</hi>—Christianity +has assimilated the entire spirituality +of an incalculable number of men who were by +nature submissive, all those enthusiasts of humiliation +and reverence, both refined and coarse. It has +in this way freed itself from its own original rustic +coarseness—of which we are vividly reminded when +we look at the oldest image of St. Peter the Apostle—and +has become a very intellectual religion, +with thousands of wrinkles, <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>arrière-pensées</foreign>, and +masks on its face. It has made European humanity +more clever, and not only cunning from a theological +standpoint. By the spirit which it has thus +given to European humanity—in conjunction with +the power of abnegation, and very often in conjunction +with the profound conviction and loyalty of +that abnegation—it has perhaps chiselled and shaped +the most subtle individualities which have ever +existed in human society: the individualities of the +higher ranks of the Catholic clergy, especially when +these priests have sprung from a noble family, and +have brought to their work, from the very beginning, +the innate grace of gesture, the dominating glance +<pb n='062'/><anchor id='Pg062'/> +of the eye, and beautiful hands and feet. Here the +human face acquires that spiritualisation brought +about by the continual ebb and flow of two kinds +of happiness (the feeling of power and the feeling +of submission) after a carefully-planned manner +of living has conquered the beast in man. Here +an activity, which consists in blessing, forgiving +sins, and representing the Almighty, ever keeps +alive in the soul, <emph>and even in the body</emph>, the consciousness +of a supreme mission; here we find that noble +contempt concerning the perishable nature of the +body, of well-being, and of happiness, peculiar to +born soldiers: their <emph>pride</emph> lies in obedience, a distinctly +aristocratic trait; their excuse and their +idealism arise from the enormous impossibility of +their task. The surpassing beauty and subtleties +of these princes of the Church have always proved +to the people the truth of the Church; a momentary +brutalisation of the clergy (such as came about in +Luther's time) always tended to encourage the contrary +belief. And would it be maintained that this +result of beauty and human subtlety, shown in +harmony of figure, intellect, and task, would come +to an end with religions? and that nothing higher +could be obtained, or even conceived? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>61.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Needful Sacrifice.</hi>—Those earnest, +able, and just men of profound feelings, who +are still Christians at heart, owe it to themselves +to make one attempt to live for a certain space +of time without Christianity! they owe it <emph>to their +faith</emph> that they should thus for once take up their +<pb n='063'/><anchor id='Pg063'/> +abode <q>in the wilderness</q>—if for no other reason +than that of being able to pronounce on the question +as to whether Christianity is needful. So far, +however, they have confined themselves to their +own narrow domain and insulted every one who +happened to be outside of it: yea, they even become +highly irritated when it is suggested to them +that beyond this little domain of theirs lies the great +world, and that Christianity is, after all, only a corner +of it! No; your evidence on the question will be +valueless until you have lived year after year without +Christianity, and with the inmost desire to +continue to exist without it: until, indeed, you have +withdrawn far, far away from it. It is not when +your nostalgia urges you back again, but when your +judgment, based on a strict comparison, drives you +back, that your homecoming has any significance!—Men +of coming generations will deal in this +manner with all the valuations of the past; they +must be voluntarily <emph>lived</emph> over again, together with +their contraries, in order that such men may finally +acquire the right of shifting them. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>62.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>On the Origin of Religions.</hi>—How can +any one regard his own opinion of things as a revelation? +This is the problem of the formation +of religions: there has always been some man in +whom this phenomenon was possible. A postulate +is that such a man already believed in revelations. +Suddenly, however, a new idea occurs to him one +day, <emph>his</emph> idea; and the entire blessedness of a great +<pb n='064'/><anchor id='Pg064'/> +personal hypothesis, which embraces all existence +and the whole world, penetrates with such force +into his conscience that he dare not think himself +the creator of such blessedness, and he therefore +attributes to his God the cause of this new idea and +likewise the cause of the cause, believing it to be +the revelation of his God. How could a man be +the author of so great a happiness? ask his pessimistic +doubts. But other levers are secretly at +work: an opinion may be strengthened by one's +self if it be considered as a revelation; and in this +way all its hypothetic nature is removed; the matter +is set beyond criticism and even beyond doubt: it +is sanctified. It is true that, in this way, a man +lowers himself to playing the rôle of <q>mouthpiece,</q> +but his thought will end by being victorious as a +divine thought—the feeling of finally gaining the +victory conquers the feeling of degradation. There +is also another feeling in the background: if a man +raises his products above himself, and thus apparently +detracts from his own worth, there nevertheless +remains a kind of joyfulness, paternal love, and +paternal pride, which compensates man—more than +compensates man—for everything. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<anchor id='Sect_63'/> +<head>63.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Hatred of One's Neighbour.</hi>—Supposing +that we felt towards our neighbour as he does himself—Schopenhauer +calls this compassion, though it +would be more correct to call it auto-passion, fellow-feeling—we +should be compelled to hate him, if, like +Pascal, he thought himself hateful. And this was +<pb n='065'/><anchor id='Pg065'/> +probably the general feeling of Pascal regarding +mankind, and also that of ancient Christianity, +which, under Nero, was <q>convicted</q> of <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>odium +generis humani</foreign>, as Tacitus has recorded. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>64.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Broken-Hearted Ones.</hi>—Christianity +has the instinct of a hunter for finding out all those +who may by hook or by crook be driven to despair—only +a very small number of men can be brought +to this despair. Christianity lies in wait for such +as those, and pursues them. Pascal made an attempt +to find out whether it was not possible, with the +help of the very subtlest knowledge, to drive everybody +into despair. He failed: to his second despair. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>65.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Brahminism and Christianity.</hi>—There are +certain precepts for obtaining a consciousness of +power: on the one hand, for those who already +know how to control themselves, and who are therefore +already quite used to the feeling of power; and, +on the other hand, for those who cannot control +themselves. Brahminism has given its care to the +former type of man; Christianity to the latter. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>66.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Faculty of Vision.</hi>—During the whole +of the Middle Ages it was believed that the real distinguishing +trait of higher men was the faculty of +<pb n='066'/><anchor id='Pg066'/> +having visions—that is to say, of having a grave +mental trouble. And, in fact, the rules of life of all +the higher natures of the Middle Ages (the religiosi) +were drawn up with the object of making man capable +of vision! Little wonder, then, that the exaggerated +esteem for these half-mad fanatics, so-called +men of genius, has continued even to our own days. +<q>They have seen things that others do not see</q>—no +doubt! and this fact should inspire us with caution +where they are concerned, and not with belief! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>67.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Price of Believers.</hi>—He who sets such +a value on being believed in has to promise heaven +in recompense for this belief: and every one, even +a thief on the Cross, must have suffered from a +terrible doubt and experienced crucifixion in every +form: otherwise he would not buy his followers so +dearly. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<anchor id='Sect_68'/> +<head>68.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The First Christian.</hi>—The whole world still +believes in the literary career of the <q>Holy Ghost,</q> +or is still influenced by the effects of this belief: +when we look into our Bibles we do so for the +purpose of <q>edifying ourselves,</q> to find a few words +of comfort for our misery, be it great or small—in +short, we read ourselves into it and out of it. +But who—apart from a few learned men—know +that it likewise records the history of one of the +most ambitious and importunate souls that ever +<pb n='067'/><anchor id='Pg067'/> +existed, of a mind full of superstition and cunning: +the history of the Apostle Paul? Nevertheless, +without this singular history, without the tribulations +and passions of such a mind, and of such a +soul, there would have been no Christian kingdom; +we should have scarcely have even heard of a little +Jewish sect, the founder of which died on the Cross. +It is true that, if this history had been understood +in time, if we had read, <emph>really read</emph>, the writings of +St. Paul, not as the revelations of the <q>Holy +Ghost,</q> but with honest and independent minds, +oblivious of all our personal troubles—there were +no such readers for fifteen centuries—it would have +been all up with Christianity long ago: so searchingly +do these writings of the Jewish Pascal lay bare +the origins of Christianity, just as the French Pascal +let us see its destiny and how it will ultimately +perish. That the ship of Christianity threw overboard +no inconsiderable part of its Jewish ballast, +that it was able to sail into the waters of the heathen +and actually did do so: this is due to the history +of one single man, this apostle who was so greatly +troubled in mind and so worthy of pity, but who +was also very disagreeable to himself and to others. +</p> + +<p> +This man suffered from a fixed idea, or rather +a fixed question, an ever-present and ever-burning +question: what was the <emph>meaning</emph> of the Jewish Law? +and, more especially, <emph>the fulfilment of this Law</emph>? +In his youth he had done his best to satisfy it, thirsting +as he did for that highest distinction which the +Jews could imagine—this people, which raised the +imagination of moral loftiness to a greater elevation +than any other people, and which alone succeeded +<pb n='068'/><anchor id='Pg068'/> +in uniting the conception of a holy God with the idea +of sin considered as an offence against this holiness. +St. Paul became at once the fanatic defender and +guard-of-honour of this God and His Law. Ceaselessly +battling against and lying in wait for all +transgressors of this Law and those who presumed +to doubt it, he was pitiless and cruel towards all evil-doers, +whom he would fain have punished in the +most rigorous fashion possible. +</p> + +<p> +Now, however, he was aware in his own person +of the fact that such a man as himself—violent, +sensual, melancholy, and malicious in his hatred—<emph>could</emph> +not fulfil the Law; and furthermore, what +seemed strangest of all to him, he saw that his +boundless craving for power was continually +provoked to break it, and that he could not help +yielding to this impulse. Was it really <q>the flesh</q> +which made him a trespasser time and again? Was +it not rather, as it afterwards occurred to him, +the Law itself, which continually showed itself +to be impossible to fulfil, and seduced men into +transgression with an irresistible charm? But +at that time he had not thought of this means of +escape. As he suggests here and there, he had +many things on his conscience—hatred, murder, +sorcery, idolatry, debauchery, drunkenness, and +orgiastic revelry,—and to however great an extent +he tried to soothe his conscience, and, even more, +his desire for power, by the extreme fanaticism of +his worship for and defence of the Law, there were +times when the thought struck him: <q>It is all in +vain! The anguish of the unfulfilled Law cannot be +overcome.</q> Luther must have experienced similar +<pb n='069'/><anchor id='Pg069'/> +feelings, when, in his cloister, he endeavoured to +become the ideal man of his imagination; and, as +Luther one day began to hate the ecclesiastical ideal, +and the Pope, and the saints, and the whole clergy, +with a hatred which was all the more deadly as he +could not avow it even to himself, an analogous +feeling took possession of St. Paul. The Law was +the Cross on which he felt himself crucified. How +he hated it! What a grudge he owed it! How he +began to look round on all sides to find a means for +its total annihilation, that he might no longer be +obliged to fulfil it himself! And at last a liberating +thought, together with a vision—which was only to +be expected in the case of an epileptic like himself—flashed +into his mind: to him, the stern upholder +of the Law—who, in his innermost heart, was tired +to death of it—there appeared on the lonely path +that Christ, with the divine effulgence on His countenance, +and Paul heard the words: <q>Why persecutest +thou Me?</q> +</p> + +<p> +What actually took place, then, was this: his +mind was suddenly enlightened, and he said to +himself: <q>It is unreasonable to persecute this +Jesus Christ! Here is my means of escape, here +is my complete vengeance, here and nowhere else +have I the destroyer of the Law in my hands!</q> +The sufferer from anguished pride felt himself +restored to health all at once, his moral despair +disappeared in the air; for morality itself was +blown away, annihilated—that is to say, <emph>fulfilled</emph>, +there on the Cross! Up to that time that ignominious +death had seemed to him to be the +principal argument against the <q>Messiahship</q> +<pb n='070'/><anchor id='Pg070'/> +proclaimed by the followers of the new doctrine: +but what if it were necessary for doing away with +the Law? The enormous consequences of this +thought, of this solution of the enigma, danced +before his eyes, and he at once became the happiest +of men. The destiny of the Jews, yea, of all +mankind, seemed to him to be intertwined with this +instantaneous flash of enlightenment: he held the +thought of thoughts, the key of keys, the light of +lights; history would henceforth revolve round him! +For from that time forward he would be the apostle +of the <emph>annihilation of the Law</emph>! To be dead to sin—that +meant to be dead to the Law also; to be +in the flesh—that meant to be under the Law! +To be one with Christ—that meant to have become, +like Him, the destroyer of the Law; to be dead +with Him—that meant likewise to be dead to the +Law. Even if it were still possible to sin, it would +not at any rate be possible to sin against the Law: +<q>I am above the Law,</q> thinks Paul; adding, <q>If I +were now to acknowledge the Law again and to +submit to it, I should make Christ an accomplice +in the sin</q>; for the Law was there for the purpose +of producing sin and setting it in the foreground, +as an emetic produces sickness. God could not +have decided upon the death of Christ had it been +possible to fulfil the Law without it; henceforth, +not only are all sins expiated, but sin itself is +abolished; henceforth the Law is dead; henceforth +<q>the flesh</q> in which it dwelt is dead—or at all +events dying, gradually wasting away. To live for +a short time longer amid this decay!—this is the +Christian's fate, until the time when, having become +<pb n='071'/><anchor id='Pg071'/> +one with Christ, he arises with Him, sharing with +Christ the divine glory, and becoming, like Christ, +a <q>Son of God.</q> Then Paul's exaltation was at its +height, and with it the importunity of his soul—the +thought of union with Christ made him lose all +shame, all submission, all constraint, and his ungovernable +ambition was shown to be revelling in +the expectation of divine glories. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the first Christian, the inventor of +Christianity! before him there were only a few +Jewish sectaries. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>69.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Inimitable.</hi>—There is an enormous strain and +distance between envy and friendship, between self-contempt +and pride: the Greek lived in the former, +the Christian in the latter. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>70.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Use of a Coarse Intellect.</hi>—The +Christian Church is an encyclopædia of primitive +cults and views of the most varied origin; and is, +in consequence, well adapted to missionary work: +in former times she could—and still does—go +wherever she would, and in doing so always found +something resembling herself, to which she could +assimilate herself and gradually substitute her own +spirit for it. It is not to what is Christian in her +usages, but to what is universally pagan in them, +that we have to attribute the development of this +universal religion. Her thoughts, which have their +origin at once in the Judaic and in the Hellenic +spirit, were able from the very beginning to raise +<pb n='072'/><anchor id='Pg072'/> +themselves above the exclusiveness and subtleties +of races and nations, as above prejudices. Although +we may admire the power which makes even the +most difficult things coalesce, we must nevertheless +not overlook the contemptible qualities of this power—the +astonishing coarseness and narrowness of the +Church's intellect when it was in process of formation, +a coarseness which permitted it to accommodate +itself to any diet, and to digest contradictions like +pebbles. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>71.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Christian Vengeance against Rome.</hi>—Perhaps +nothing is more fatiguing than the sight +of a continual conqueror: for more than two +hundred years the world had seen Rome overcoming +one nation after another, the circle was +closed, all future seemed to be at an end, everything +was done with a view to its lasting for all +time—yea, when the Empire built anything it was +erected with a view to being <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>aere perennius</foreign>. We, +who know only the <q>melancholy of ruins,</q> can +scarcely understand that totally different <emph>melancholy +of eternal buildings</emph>, from which men endeavoured +to save themselves as best they could—with the +light-hearted fancy of a Horace, for example. +Others sought different consolations for the weariness +which was closely akin to despair, against the +deadening knowledge that from henceforth all +progress of thought and heart would be hopeless, +that the huge spider sat everywhere and mercilessly +continued to drink all the blood within +its reach, no matter where it might spring forth. +<pb n='073'/><anchor id='Pg073'/> +This mute, century-old hatred of the wearied spectators +against Rome, wherever Rome's domination +extended, was at length vented in Christianity, +which united Rome, <q>the world,</q> and <q>sin</q> into a +single conception. The Christians took their revenge +on Rome by proclaiming the immediate and +sudden destruction of the world; by once more +introducing a future—for Rome had been able to +transform everything into the history of its <emph>own</emph> +past and present—a future in which Rome was no +longer the most important factor; and by dreaming +of the last judgment—while the crucified Jew, as +the symbol of salvation, was the greatest derision +on the superb Roman prætors in the provinces; +for now they seemed to be only the symbols of +ruin and a <q>world</q> ready to perish. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>72.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The <q>Life after Death.</q></hi>—Christianity +found the idea of punishment in hell in the entire +Roman Empire: for the numerous mystic cults have +hatched this idea with particular satisfaction as +being the most fecund egg of their power. Epicurus +thought he could do nothing better for his followers +than to tear this belief up by the roots: his triumph +found its finest echo in the mouth of one of his +disciples, the Roman Lucretius, a poet of a gloomy, +though afterwards enlightened, temperament. +Alas! his triumph had come too soon: Christianity +took under its special protection this belief +in subterranean horrors, which was already beginning +to die away in the minds of men; and that +<pb n='074'/><anchor id='Pg074'/> +was clever of it. For, without this audacious leap +into the most complete paganism, how could it +have proved itself victorious over the popularity +of Mithras and Isis? In this way it managed +to bring timorous folk over to its side—the most +enthusiastic adherents of a new faith! The Jews, +being a people which, like the Greeks, and even in +a greater degree than the Greeks, loved and still +love life, had not cultivated that idea to any great +extent: the thought of final death as the punishment +of the sinner, death without resurrection as an +extreme menace: this was sufficient to impress these +peculiar men, who did not wish to get rid of their +bodies, but hoped, with their refined Egypticism, +to preserve them for ever. (A Jewish martyr, +about whom we may read in the Second Book of +the Maccabees, would not think of giving up his +intestines, which had been torn out: he wanted to +have them at the resurrection: quite a Jewish +characteristic!) +</p> + +<p> +Thoughts of eternal damnation were far from the +minds of the early Christians: they thought they +were <emph>delivered</emph> from death, and awaited a transformation +from day to day, but not death. (What +a curious effect the first death must have produced +on these expectant people! How many different +feelings must have been mingled together—astonishment, +exultation, doubt, shame, and passion! +Verily, a subject worthy of a great artist!) St. +Paul could say nothing better in praise of his +Saviour than that he had opened the gates of immortality +to everybody—he did not believe in the +resurrection of those who had not been saved: more +<pb n='075'/><anchor id='Pg075'/> +than this, by reason of his doctrine of the impossibility +of carrying out the Law, and of death considered +as a consequence of sin, he even suspected +that, up to that time, no one had become immortal +(or at all events only a very few, solely owing to +special grace and not to any merits of their own): +it was only in his time that immortality had begun +to open its gates—and only a few of the elect would +finally gain admittance, as the pride of the elect cannot +help saying. +</p> + +<p> +In other places, where the impulse towards life +was not so strong as among the Jews and the +Christian Jews, and where the prospect of immortality +did not appear to be more valuable than +the prospect of a final death, that pagan, yet not +altogether un-Jewish addition of Hell became a very +useful tool in the hands of the missionaries: then +arose the new doctrine that even the sinners and +the unsaved are immortal, the doctrine of eternal +damnation, which was more powerful than the idea +of a <emph>final death</emph>, which thereafter began to fade +away. It was science alone which could overcome +this idea, at the same time brushing aside all other +ideas about death and an after-life. We are poorer +in one particular: the <q>life after death</q> has no +further interest for us! an indescribable blessing, +which is as yet too recent to be considered as such +throughout the world. And Epicurus is once more +triumphant. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>73.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>For the <q>Truth</q>!</hi>—<q>The truth of Christianity +was attested by the virtuous lives of the +<pb n='076'/><anchor id='Pg076'/> +Christians, their firmness in suffering, their unshakable +belief and above all by the spread and +increase of the faith in spite of all calamities.</q>—That's +how you talk even now. The more's the +pity. Learn, then, that all this proves nothing +either in favour of truth or against it; that truth +must be demonstrated differently from conscientiousness, +and that the latter is in no respect whatever +an argument in favour of the former. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>74.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Christian <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>Arrière-pensée</foreign>.</hi>—Would not +this have been a general reservation among +Christians of the first century: <q>It is better to +persuade ourselves into the belief that we are guilty +rather than that we are innocent; for it is impossible +to ascertain the disposition of so powerful a judge—but +it is to be feared that he is looking out only +for those who are conscious of guilt. Bearing in +mind his great power, it is more likely that he will +pardon a guilty person than admit that any one is +innocent, in his presence.</q> This was the feeling of +poor provincial folk in the presence of the Roman +prætor: <q>He is too proud for us to dare to be innocent.</q> +And may not this very sentiment have made +its influence felt when the Christians endeavoured +to picture to themselves the aspect of the Supreme +Judge? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>75.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Neither European nor Noble.</hi>—There is +something Oriental and feminine in Christianity, and +<pb n='077'/><anchor id='Pg077'/> +this is shown in the thought, <q>Whom the Lord +loveth, He chasteneth</q>; for women in the Orient +consider castigations and the strict seclusion of their +persons from the world as a sign of their husband's +love, and complain if these signs of love cease. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>76.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>If you think it Evil, you make it Evil.</hi>—The +passions become evil and malignant when +regarded with evil and malignant eyes. It is in this +way that Christianity has succeeded in transforming +Eros and Aphrodite—sublime powers, capable of +idealisation—into hellish genii and phantom +goblins, by means of the pangs which every sexual +impulse was made to raise in the conscience of the +believers. Is it not a dreadful thing to transform +necessary and regular sensations into a source of +inward misery, and thus arbitrarily to render interior +misery necessary and regular <emph>in the case of every +man</emph>! Furthermore, this misery remains secret +with the result that it is all the more deeply rooted, +for it is not all men who have the courage, which +Shakespeare shows in his sonnets, of making public +their Christian gloom on this point. +</p> + +<p> +Must a feeling, then, always be called evil against +which we are forced to struggle, which we must +restrain even within certain limits, or, in given cases, +banish entirely from our minds? Is it not the habit +of vulgar souls always to call an <emph>enemy</emph> evil! and +must we call Eros an enemy? The sexual feelings, +like the feelings of pity and adoration, possess the +particular characteristic that, in their case, one being +<pb n='078'/><anchor id='Pg078'/> +gratifies another by the pleasure he enjoys—it is but +rarely that we meet with such a benevolent arrangement +in nature. And yet we calumniate and corrupt +it all by our bad conscience! We connect the procreation +of man with a bad conscience! +</p> + +<p> +But the outcome of this diabolisation of Eros is +a mere farce: the <q>demon</q> Eros becomes an object +of greater interest to mankind than all the angels +and saints put together, thanks to the mysterious +Mumbo-Jumboism of the Church in all things +erotic: it is due to the Church that love stories, +even in our own time, have become the one common +interest which appeals to all classes of people—with +an exaggeration which would be incomprehensible +to antiquity, and which will not fail to +provoke roars of laughter in coming generations. +All our poetising and thinking, from the highest to +the lowest, is marked, and more than marked, by +the exaggerated importance bestowed upon the love +story as the principal item of our existence. +Posterity may perhaps, on this account, come to +the conclusion that its entire legacy of Christian +culture is tainted with narrowness and insanity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>77.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Tortures of the Soul.</hi>—The whole +world raises a shout of horror at the present day if +one man presumes to torture the body of another: +the indignation against such a being bursts forth +almost spontaneously. Nay; we tremble even at +the very thought of torture being inflicted on a +man or an animal, and we undergo unspeakable +<pb n='079'/><anchor id='Pg079'/> +misery when we hear of such an act having been +accomplished. But the same feeling is experienced +in a very much lesser degree and extent when it +is a question of the tortures of the soul and the +dreadfulness of their infliction. Christianity has +introduced such tortures on an unprecedented scale, +and still continues to preach this kind of martyrdom—yea, +it even complains innocently of backsliding +and indifference when it meets with a state +of soul which is free from such agonies. From all +this it now results that humanity, in the face of +spiritual racks, tortures of the mind, and instruments +of punishment, behaves even to-day with the +same awesome patience and indecision which it exhibited +in former times in the presence of the +cruelties practised on the bodies of men or animals. +Hell has certainly not remained merely an empty +sound; and a new kind of pity has been devised +to correspond to the newly-created fears of hell—a +horrible and ponderous compassion, hitherto unknown; +with people <q>irrevocably condemned to +hell,</q> as, for example, the Stony Guest gave Don +Juan to understand, and which, during the Christian +era, should often have made the very stones weep. +</p> + +<p> +Plutarch presents us with a gloomy picture of the +state of mind of a superstitious man in pagan times: +but this picture pales when compared with that of +a Christian of the Middle Ages, who <emph>supposes</emph> that +nothing can save him from <q>torments everlasting.</q> +Dreadful omens appear to him: perhaps he sees a +stork holding a snake in his beak and hesitating to +swallow it. Or all nature suddenly becomes pale; +or bright, fiery colours appear across the surface +<pb n='080'/><anchor id='Pg080'/> +of the earth. Or the ghosts of his dead relations +approach him, with features showing traces of +dreadful sufferings. Or the dark walls of the room +in which the man is sleeping are suddenly lighted +up, and there, amidst a yellow flame, he perceives +instruments of torture and a motley horde of snakes +and devils. Christianity has surely turned this +world of ours into a fearful habitation by raising +the crucifix in all parts and thereby proclaiming +the earth to be a place <q>where the just man is +tortured to death!</q> And when the ardour of +some great preacher for once disclosed to the public +the secret sufferings of the individual, the agonies +of the lonely souls, when, for example, Whitefield +preached <q>like a dying man to the dying,</q> now +bitterly weeping, now violently stamping his feet, +speaking passionately, in abrupt and incisive tones, +without fearing to turn the whole force of his attack +upon any one individual present, excluding him +from the assembly with excessive harshness—then +indeed did it seem as if the earth were being transformed +into a <q>field of evil.</q> The huge crowds +were then seen to act as if seized with a sudden +attack of madness: many were in fits of anguish; +others lay unconscious and motionless; others, +again, trembled or rent the air with their piercing +shrieks. Everywhere there was a loud breathing, +as of half-choked people who were gasping for the +breath of life. <q>Indeed,</q> said an eye-witness once, +<q>almost all the noises appeared to come from people +who were dying in the bitterest agony.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Let us never forget that it was Christianity which +first turned the death-bed into a bed of agony, and +<pb n='081'/><anchor id='Pg081'/> +that, by the scenes which took place there, and the +terrifying sounds which were made possible there +for the first time, it has poisoned the senses and the +blood of innumerable witnesses and their children. +Imagine the ordinary man who can never efface +the recollection of words like these: <q>Oh, eternity! +Would that I had no soul! Would that I had +never been born! My soul is damned, damned; +lost for ever! Six days ago you might have +helped me. But now all is over. I belong to the +devil, and with him I will go down to hell. Break, +break, ye poor hearts of stone! Ye will not break? +What more can be done for hearts of stone? I am +damned that ye may be saved! There he is! +Yea; there he is! Come, good devil! Come!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>78.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Avenging Justice.</hi>—Misfortune and guilt: +these two things have been put on one scale by +Christianity; so that, when the misfortune which +follows a fault is a serious one, this fault is always +judged accordingly to be a very heinous one. But +this was not the valuation of antiquity, and that +is why Greek tragedy—in which misfortune and +punishment are discussed at length, and yet in +another sense—forms part of the great liberators +of the mind to an extent which even the ancients +themselves could not realise. They remained ingenuous +enough not to set up an <q>adequate relation</q> +between guilt and misfortune. The guilt of +their tragic heroes is, indeed, the little pebble that +makes them stumble, and on which account they +<pb n='082'/><anchor id='Pg082'/> +sometimes happen to break an arm or knock out +an eye. Upon this the feeling of antiquity made +the comment, <q>Well, he should have gone his way +with more caution and less pride.</q> It was reserved +for Christianity, however, to say: <q>Here we have +a great misfortune, and behind this great misfortune +there must lie a great fault, an equally <emph>serious fault</emph>, +though we cannot clearly see it! If, wretched man, +you do not feel it, it is because your heart is hardened—and +worse than this will happen to you!</q> +</p> + +<p> +Besides this, antiquity could point to examples +of real misfortunes, misfortunes that were pure +and innocent; it was only with the advent of +Christianity that all punishment became well-merited +punishment: in addition to this it renders +the imagination of the sufferer still more suffering, +so that the victim, in the midst of his distress, is +seized with the feeling that he has been morally +reproved and cast away. Poor humanity! The +Greeks had a special word to stand for the feeling of +indignation which was experienced at the misfortune +of another: among Christian peoples this feeling +was prohibited and was not permitted to develop; +hence the reason why they have no name for this +<emph>more virile</emph> brother of pity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>79.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Proposal.</hi>—If, according to the arguments +of Pascal and Christianity, our ego is always hateful, +how can we permit and suppose other people, +whether God or men, to love it? It would be +contrary to all good principles to let ourselves be +<pb n='083'/><anchor id='Pg083'/> +loved when we know very well that we deserve +nothing but hatred—not to speak of other repugnant +feelings. <q>But this is the very Kingdom of +Grace.</q> Then you look upon your love for your +neighbour as a grace? Your pity as a grace? +Well, then, if you can do all this, there is no reason +why you should not go a step further: love yourselves +through grace, and then you will no longer +find your God necessary, and the entire drama of +the Fall and Redemption of mankind will reach its +last act in yourselves! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>80.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Compassionate Christian.</hi>—A +Christian's compassion in the presence of his +neighbour's suffering has another side to it: viz. +his profound suspicion of all the joy of his neighbour, +of his neighbour's joy in everything that he +wills and is able to do. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>81.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Saint's Humanity.</hi>—A saint had fallen +into the company of believers, and could no longer +stand their continually expressed hatred for sin. +At last he said to them: <q>God created all things, +except sin: therefore it is no wonder that He does +not like it. But man has created sin, and why, +then, should he disown this only child of his merely +because it is not regarded with a friendly eye by +God, its grandfather? Is that human? Honour +to whom honour is due—but one's heart and duty +must speak, above all, in favour of the child—and +only in the second place for the honour of the +grandfather!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='084'/><anchor id='Pg084'/> + +<div> +<head>82.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Theological Attack.</hi>—<q>You must +arrange that with yourself; for your life is at +stake!</q>—Luther it is who suddenly springs upon +us with these words and imagines that we feel the +knife at our throats. But we throw him off with +the words of one higher and more considerate than +he: <q>We need form no opinion in regard to this +or that matter, and thus save our souls from trouble. +For, by their very nature, the things themselves +cannot compel us to express an opinion.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>83.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Poor Humanity!</hi>—A single drop of blood too +much or too little in the brain may render our life +unspeakably miserable and difficult, and we may +suffer more from this single drop of blood than +Prometheus from his vulture. But the worst is when +we do not know that this drop is causing our sufferings—and +we think it is <q>the devil!</q> Or <q>sin!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<anchor id='Sect_84'/> +<head>84.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Philology of Christianity.</hi>—How +little Christianity cultivates the sense of honesty +can be inferred from the character of the writings +of its learned men. They set out their conjectures +as audaciously as if they were dogmas, and are but +seldom at a disadvantage in regard to the interpretation +of Scripture. Their continual cry is: <q>I +am right, for it is written</q>—and then follows an +explanation so shameless and capricious that a +<pb n='085'/><anchor id='Pg085'/> +philologist, when he hears it, must stand stock-still +between anger and laughter, asking himself again +and again: Is it possible? Is it honest? Is it even +decent? +</p> + +<p> +It is only those who never—or always—attend +church that underestimate the dishonesty with +which this subject is still dealt in Protestant +pulpits; in what a clumsy fashion the preacher +takes advantage of his security from interruption; +how the Bible is pinched and squeezed; and how +the people are made acquainted with every form of +<emph>the art of false reading</emph>. +</p> + +<p> +When all is said and done, however, what can +be expected from the effects of a religion which, +during the centuries when it was being firmly +established, enacted that huge philological farce +concerning the Old Testament? I refer to that +attempt to tear the Old Testament from the hands +of the Jews under the pretext that it contained only +Christian doctrines and <emph>belonged</emph> to the Christians +as the true people of Israel, while the Jews had +merely arrogated it to themselves without authority. +This was followed by a mania of would-be interpretation +and falsification, which could not under +any circumstances have been allied with a good +conscience. However strongly Jewish savants protested, +it was everywhere sedulously asserted that +the Old Testament alluded everywhere to Christ, +and nothing but Christ, more especially His Cross, +and thus, wherever reference was made to wood, a +rod, a ladder, a twig, a tree, a willow, or a staff, +such a reference could not but be a prophecy relating +to the wood of the Cross: even the setting-up +<pb n='086'/><anchor id='Pg086'/> +of the Unicorn and the Brazen Serpent, even +Moses stretching forth his hands in prayer—yea, +the very spits on which the Easter lambs were +roasted: all these were allusions to the Cross, and, +as it were, preludes to it! Did any one who kept +on asserting these things ever <emph>believe</emph> in them? +Let it not be forgotten that the Church did not +shrink from putting interpolations in the text of the +Septuagint (<hi rend='italic'>e.g.</hi> Ps. xcvi. 10), in order that she might +later on make use of these interpolated passages +as Christian prophecies. They were engaged in a +struggle, and thought of their foes rather than of +honesty. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>85.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Subtlety in Penury.</hi>—Take care not to laugh +at the mythology of the Greeks merely because it +so little resembles your own profound metaphysics! +You should admire a people who checked their quick +intellect at this point, and for a long time afterwards +had tact enough to avoid the danger of +scholasticism and hair-splitting superstition. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>86.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Christian Interpreters of the Body.</hi>—Whatever +originates in the stomach, the intestines, +the beating of the heart, the nerves, the bile, +the seed—all those indispositions, debilities, irritations, +and the whole contingency of that machine +about which we know so little—a Christian like +Pascal considers it all as a moral and religious +phenomenon, asking himself whether God or the +<pb n='087'/><anchor id='Pg087'/> +devil, good or evil, salvation or damnation, is the +cause. Alas for the unfortunate interpreter! How +he must distort and worry his system! How he +must distort and worry himself in order to gain +his point! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>87.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Moral Miracle.</hi>—In the domain of +morality, Christianity knows of nothing but the +miracle; the sudden change in all valuations, the +sudden renouncement of all habits, the sudden and +irresistible predilection for new things and persons. +Christianity looks upon this phenomenon as the +work of God, and calls it the act of regeneration, +thus giving it a unique and incomparable value. +Everything else which is called morality, and which +bears no relation to this miracle, becomes in consequence +a matter of indifference to the Christian, +and indeed, so far as it is a feeling of well-being +and pride, an object of fear. The canon of virtue, +of the fulfilled law, is established in the New +Testament, but in such a way as to be the canon +of <emph>impossible virtue</emph>: men who still aspire to moral +perfections must come to understand, in the face +of this canon, that they are further and further +<emph>removed</emph> from their aim; they must <emph>despair</emph> of +virtue, and end by throwing themselves at the feet +of the Merciful One. +</p> + +<p> +It is only in reaching a conclusion like this that +moral efforts on the part of the Christian can still +be regarded as possessing any value: the condition +that these efforts shall always remain sterile, painful, +and melancholy is therefore indispensable; and it +<pb n='088'/><anchor id='Pg088'/> +is in this way that those efforts could still avail to +bring about that moment of ecstasy when man experiences +the <q>overflow of grace</q> and the moral +miracle. This struggle for morality is, however, +not <emph>necessary</emph>; for it is by no means uncommon for +this miracle to happen to the sinner at the very +moment when he is, so to speak, wallowing in the +mire of sin: yea, the leap from the deepest and +most abandoned sinfulness into its contrary seems +easier, and, as a clear proof of the miracle, even +more desirable. +</p> + +<p> +What, for the rest, may be the signification of +such a sudden, unreasonable, and irresistible revolution, +such a change from the depths of misery +into the heights of happiness? (might it be a +disguised epilepsy?) This should at all events +be considered by alienists, who have frequent opportunities +of observing similar <q>miracles</q>—for +example, the mania of murder or suicide. The +relatively <q>more pleasant consequences</q> in the case +of the Christian make no important difference. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>88.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Luther, the Great Benefactor.</hi>—Luther's +most important result is the suspicion which he +awakened against the saints and the entire Christian +<foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>vita contemplativa</foreign>; only since his day has an un-Christian +<foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>vita contemplativa</foreign> again become possible +in Europe, only since then has contempt for laymen +and worldly activity ceased. Luther continued to +be an honest miner's son even after he had been +shut up in a monastery, and there, for lack of other +<pb n='089'/><anchor id='Pg089'/> +depths and <q>borings,</q> he descended into himself, +and bored terrifying and dark passages through his +own depths—finally coming to recognise that an +introspective and saintly life was impossible to him, +and that his innate <q>activity</q> in body and soul +would end by being his ruin. For a long time, +too long, indeed, he endeavoured to find the way +to holiness through castigations; but at length he +made up his mind, and said to himself: <q>There is +no real <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>vita contemplativa</foreign>! We have been deceived. +The saints were no better than the rest of us.</q> +This was truly a rustic way of gaining one's case; +but for the Germans of that period it was the only +proper way. How edified they felt when they could +read in their Lutheran catechism: <q>Apart from the +Ten Commandments there is no work which could +find favour in the eyes of God—these much-boasted +spiritual works of the saints are purely imaginary!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>89.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Doubt As Sin.</hi>—Christianity has done all it +possibly could to draw a circle round itself, and has +even gone so far as to declare doubt itself to be +a sin. We are to be precipitated into faith by a +miracle, without the help of reason, after which we +are to float in it as the clearest and least equivocal +of elements—a mere glance at some solid ground, +the thought that we exist for some purpose other +than floating, the least movement of our amphibious +nature: all this is a sin! Let it be noted that, +following this decision, the proofs and demonstration +of the faith, and all meditations upon its origin, +<pb n='090'/><anchor id='Pg090'/> +are prohibited as sinful. Christianity wants blindness +and frenzy and an eternal swan-song above +the waves under which reason has been drowned! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>90.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Egoism <hi rend='italic'>versus</hi> Egoism.</hi>—How many are there +who still come to the conclusion: <q>Life would be +intolerable were there no God!</q> Or, as is said in +idealistic circles: <q>Life would be intolerable if its +ethical signification were lacking.</q> Hence there +must be a God—or an ethical signification of +existence! In reality the case stands thus: He +who is accustomed to conceptions of this sort does +not desire a life without them, hence these conceptions +are necessary for him and his preservation—but +what a presumption it is to assert that everything +necessary for my preservation must exist +<emph>in reality</emph>! As if my preservation were really +necessary! What if others held the contrary +opinion? if they did not care to live under the +conditions of these two articles of faith, and did not +regard life as worth living if they were realised!—And +that is the present position of affairs. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>91.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Honesty of God.</hi>—An omniscient and +omnipotent God who does not even take care that +His intentions shall be understood by His creatures—could +He be a God of goodness? A God, who, +for thousands of years, has permitted innumerable +doubts and scruples to continue unchecked as if +they were of no importance in the salvation of mankind, +<pb n='091'/><anchor id='Pg091'/> +and who, nevertheless, announces the most +dreadful consequences for any one who mistakes his +truth? Would he not be a cruel god if, being himself +in possession of the truth, he could calmly contemplate +mankind, in a state of miserable torment, +worrying its mind as to what was truth? +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps, however, he really is a God of goodness, +and was unable to express Himself more clearly? +Perhaps he lacked intelligence enough for this? +Or eloquence? All the worse! For in such a +case he may have been deceived himself in regard +to what he calls his <q>truth,</q> and may not be far +from being another <q>poor, deceived devil!</q> Must +he not therefore experience all the torments of hell +at seeing His creatures suffering so much here below—and +even more, suffering through all eternity—when +he himself can neither advise nor help them, +except as a deaf and dumb person, who makes all +kinds of equivocal signs when his child or his dog +is threatened with the most fearful danger? A distressed +believer who argues thus might be pardoned +if his pity for the suffering God were greater than +his pity for his <q>neighbours</q>; for they are his +neighbours no longer if that most solitary and +primeval being is also the greatest sufferer and +stands most in need of consolation. +</p> + +<p> +Every religion shows some traits of the fact that +it owes its origin to a state of human intellectuality +which was as yet too young and immature: they +all make light of the necessity for speaking the +truth: as yet they know nothing of the <emph>duty of +God</emph>, the duty of being clear and truthful in His +communications with men. No one was more +<pb n='092'/><anchor id='Pg092'/> +eloquent than Pascal in speaking of the <q>hidden +God</q> and the reasons why He had to keep Himself +hidden, all of which indicates clearly enough that +Pascal himself could never make his mind easy on +this point: but he speaks with such confidence that +one is led to imagine that he must have been let +into the secret at some time or other. He seemed +to have some idea that the <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>deus absconditus</foreign> bore +a few slight traces of immorality; and he felt too +much ashamed and afraid of acknowledging this +to himself: consequently, like a man who is afraid, +he spoke as loudly as he could. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>92.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>At the Death-bed of Christianity.</hi>—All +truly active men now do without inward Christianity, +and the most moderate and thoughtful men of +the intellectual middle classes possess only a kind +of modified Christianity; that is, a peculiarly simplified +Christianity. A God who, in his love, ordains +everything so that it may be best for us, a God who +gives us our virtue and our happiness and then +takes them away from us, so that everything at +length goes on smoothly and there is no reason +left why we should take life ill or grumble about it: +in short, resignation and modesty raised to the rank +of divinities—that is the best and most lifelike +remnant of Christianity now left to us. It must +be remembered, however, that in this way Christianity +has developed into a soft <emph>moralism</emph>: instead +of <q>God, freedom, and immortality,</q> we have now +a kind of benevolence and honest sentiments, and +the belief that, in the entire universe, benevolence +<pb n='093'/><anchor id='Pg093'/> +and honest sentiments will finally prevail: this is +the euthanasia of Christianity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>93.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>What is Truth?</hi>—Who will not be pleased +with the conclusions which the faithful take such +delight in coming to?—<q>Science cannot be true; +for it denies God. Hence it does not come from +God; and consequently it cannot be true—for God +is truth.</q> It is not the deduction but the premise +which is fallacious. What if God were not exactly +truth, and if this were proved? And if he were +instead the vanity, the desire for power, the ambitions, +the fear, and the enraptured and terrified +folly of mankind? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>94.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Remedy for the Displeased.</hi>—Even Paul +already believed that some sacrifice was necessary +to take away the deep displeasure which God +experienced concerning sin: and ever since then +Christians have never ceased to vent the ill-humour +which they felt with themselves upon some victim +or another—whether it was <q>the world,</q> or +<q>history,</q> or <q>reason,</q> or joy, or the tranquillity +of other men—something good, no matter what, +had to die for <emph>their</emph> sins (even if only <foreign rend='italic'>in effigie</foreign>)! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>95.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Historical Refutation as the Decisive +One.</hi>—Formerly it was sought to prove +that there was no God—now it is shown how the +belief that a God existed could have <emph>originated</emph>, +<pb n='094'/><anchor id='Pg094'/> +and by what means this belief gained authority +and importance: in this way the counterproof that +there is no God becomes unnecessary and superfluous.—In +former times, when the <q>evidences of +the existence of God</q> which had been brought +forward were refuted, a doubt still remained, viz. +whether better proofs could not be found than those +which had just been refuted: at that time the atheists +did not understand the art of making a <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>tabula +rasa</foreign>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>96.</head> + +<p> +<q><hi rend='smallcaps'>In hoc signo vinces.</hi></q>—To whatever degree +of progress Europe may have attained in other +respects, where religious affairs are concerned it +has not yet reached the liberal naïveté of the +ancient Brahmins, which proves that, in India, four +thousand years ago, people meditated more profoundly +and transmitted to their descendants more +pleasure in meditating than is the case in our own +days. For those Brahmins believed in the first +place that the priests were more powerful than the +gods, and in the second place that it was observances +which constituted the power of the priests: +as a result of which their poets were never tired of +glorifying those observances (prayers, ceremonies, +sacrifices, chants, improvised melodies) as the real +dispensers of all benefits. Although a certain +amount of superstition and poetry was mingled +with all this, the principles were <emph>true</emph>! A step +further, and the gods were cast aside—which +Europe likewise will have to do before very long! +One more step further, and priests and intermediaries +<pb n='095'/><anchor id='Pg095'/> +could also be dispensed with—and then +Buddha, the teacher of the religion of self-redemption, +appeared. How far Europe is still removed +from this degree of culture! When at length all +the customs and observances, upon which rests the +power of gods, priests, and saviours, shall have been +destroyed, when as a consequence morality, in the +old sense, will be dead, then there will come ... +yea, what will come then? But let us refrain from +speculating; let us rather make certain that Europe +will retrieve that which, in India, amidst this people +of thinkers, was carried out thousands of years ago +as a commandment of thought! +</p> + +<p> +Scattered among the different nations of Europe +there are now from ten to twenty millions of men +who no longer <q>believe in God</q>—is it too much +to ask that they should give each other some +indication or password? As soon as they recognise +each other in this way, they will also make +themselves known to each other; and they will +immediately become a power in Europe, and, +happily, a power <emph>among</emph> the nations! among the +classes! between rich and poor! between those +who command, and those who obey! between the +most restless and the most tranquil, tranquillising +people! +</p> + +</div> + +</div> + +<pb n='097'/><anchor id='Pg097'/> + +<div rend='page-break-before: always'> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Book II.</head> + +<div> +<head>97.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>One becomes Moral</hi>—but not because one is +moral! Submission to morals may be due to +slavishness or vanity, egoism or resignation, dismal +fanaticism or thoughtlessness. It may, again, +be an act of despair, such as submission to the +authority of a ruler; but there is nothing moral +about it <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>per se</foreign>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>98.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Alterations in Morals.</hi>—Morals are constantly +undergoing changes and transformations, +occasioned by successful crimes. (To these, for example, +belong all innovations in moral judgments.) +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>99.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Wherein we are all Irrational.</hi>—We still +continue to draw conclusions from judgments which +we consider as false, or doctrines in which we no +longer believe,—through our feelings. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>100.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Awaking from a Dream.</hi>—Noble and wise +men once upon a time believed in the music of the +<pb n='098'/><anchor id='Pg098'/> +spheres; there are still noble and wise men who +believe in <q>the moral significance of existence,</q> but +there will come a day when this music of the spheres +also will no longer be audible to them. They will +awake and perceive that their ears have been dreaming. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>101.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Open to Doubt.</hi>—To accept a belief simply because +it is customary implies that one is dishonest, +cowardly, and lazy.—Must dishonesty, cowardice, +and laziness, therefore, be the primary conditions +of morality? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>102.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The most Ancient Moral Judgments.</hi>—What +attitude do we assume towards the acts of +our neighbour?—In the first place, we consider how +they may benefit ourselves—we see them only in +this light. It is this effect which we regard as the +intention of the acts,—and in the end we come +to look upon these intentions of our neighbour +as permanent qualities in him, and we call him, +for example, <q>a dangerous man.</q> Triple error! +Triple and most ancient mistake! Perhaps this +inheritance comes to us from the animals and their +faculty of judgment! Must not the origin of all +morality be sought in these detestable narrow-minded +conclusions: <q>Whatever injures me is evil +(something injurious in itself), whatever benefits me +is good (beneficial and profitable in itself), whatever +injures me once or several times is hostile <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>per +se</foreign>; whatever benefits me once or several times is +<pb n='099'/><anchor id='Pg099'/> +friendly <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>per se</foreign>.</q> <foreign rend='italic'>O pudenda origo!</foreign> Is not this +equivalent to interpreting the contemptible, occasional, +and often merely accidental relations of another +person to us as his primary and most essential +qualities, and affirming that towards himself and +every one else he is only capable of such actions as +we ourselves have experienced at his hands once or +several times! And is not this thorough folly based +upon the most immodest of all mental reservations: +namely, that we ourselves must be the standard of +what is good, since we determine good and evil? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<anchor id='Sect_103'/> +<head>103.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>There are Two Classes of People who +deny Morality.</hi>—To deny morality may mean, +in the first place, to deny the moral inducements +which, men pretend, have urged them on to their +actions,—which is equivalent to saying that +morality merely consists of words and forms, part of +that coarse and subtle deceit (especially self-deceit) +which is characteristic of mankind, and perhaps +more especially of those men who are celebrated for +their virtues. In the second place, it may mean our +denying that moral judgments are founded on +truths. It is admitted in such a case that these +judgments are, in fact, the motives of the actions, +but that in this way it is really errors as the basis +of all moral judgments which urge men on to their +moral actions. This is my point of view; but I +should be far from denying that in very many cases +a subtle suspicion in accordance with the former +point of view—<hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> in the spirit of La Rochefoucauld—is +<pb n='100'/><anchor id='Pg100'/> +also justifiable, and in any case of a high general +utility.—Therefore I deny morality in the same +way as I deny alchemy, <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> I deny its hypotheses; +but I do not deny that there have been alchemists +who believed in these hypotheses and based their +actions upon them. I also deny immorality—not +that innumerable people feel immoral, but that +there is any true reason why they should feel so. +I should not, of course, deny—unless I were a fool—that +many actions which are called immoral +should be avoided and resisted; and in the same +way that many which are called moral should be +performed and encouraged; but I hold that in both +cases these actions should be performed from +motives other than those which have prevailed up +to the present time. We must learn anew in order +that at last, perhaps very late in the day, we may be +able to do something more: feel anew. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>104.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Our Valuations.</hi>—All actions may be referred +back to valuations, and all valuations are +either one's own or adopted, the latter being by far +the more numerous. Why do we adopt them? +Through fear, <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> we think it more advisable to +pretend that they are our own, and so well do we +accustom ourselves to do so that it at last becomes +second nature to us. A valuation of our own, +which is the appreciation of a thing in accordance +with the pleasure or displeasure it causes us and +no one else, is something very rare indeed!—But +must not our valuation of our neighbour—which +<pb n='101'/><anchor id='Pg101'/> +is prompted by the motive that we adopt his valuation +in most cases—proceed from ourselves and by +our own decision? Of course, but then we come to +these decisions during our childhood, and seldom +change them. We often remain during our whole +lifetime the dupes of our childish and accustomed +judgments in our manner of judging our fellow-men +(their minds, rank, morality, character, and +reprehensibility), and we find it necessary to subscribe +to their valuations. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>105.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pseudo-egoism.</hi>—The great majority of +people, whatever they may think and say about +their <q>egoism,</q> do nothing for their ego all their +life long, but only for a phantom of this ego which +has been formed in regard to them by their friends +and communicated to them. As a consequence, +they all live in a haze of impersonal and half-personal +opinions and of arbitrary and, as it were, +poetic valuations: the one always in the head of +another, and this head, again, in the head of somebody +else—a queer world of phantoms which +manages to give itself a rational appearance! This +haze of opinions and habits grows in extent and +lives almost independently of the people it surrounds; +it is it which gives rise to the immense +effect of general judgments on <q>man</q>—all those +men, who do not know themselves, believe in a +bloodless abstraction which they call <q>man,</q> <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> +in a fiction; and every change caused in this abstraction +by the judgments of powerful individualities +<pb n='102'/><anchor id='Pg102'/> +(such as princes and philosophers) produces +an extraordinary and irrational effect on the great +majority,—for the simple reason that not a single +individual in this haze can oppose a real ego, +an ego which is accessible to and fathomed by +himself, to the universal pale fiction, which he +could thereby destroy. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>106.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Against Definitions of Moral Aims.</hi>—On +all sides we now hear the aim of morals defined as +the preservation and advancement of humanity; but +this is merely the expression of a wish to have a +formula and nothing more. Preservation wherein? +advancement whither? These are questions which +must at once be asked. Is not the most essential +point, the answer to this <emph>wherein?</emph> and <emph>whither?</emph> +left out of the formula? What results therefrom, +so far as our own actions and duties are concerned, +which is not already tacitly and instinctively understood? +Can we sufficiently understand from this +formula whether we must prolong as far as possible +the existence of the human race, or bring about the +greatest possible disanimalisation of man? How +different the means, <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> the practical morals, would +have to be in the two cases! Supposing that the +greatest possible rationality were given to mankind, +this certainly would not guarantee the longest +possible existence for them! Or supposing that +their <q>greatest happiness</q> was thought to be the +answer to the questions put, do we thereby mean +the highest degree of happiness which a few individuals +<pb n='103'/><anchor id='Pg103'/> +might attain, or an incalculable, though +finally attainable, average state of happiness for +all? And why should morality be the way to it? +Has not morality, considered as a whole, opened up +so many sources of displeasure as to lead us to +think that man up to the present, with every new +refinement of morality, has become more and more +discontented with himself, with his neighbour, and +with his own lot? Has not the most moral of men +hitherto believed that the only justifiable state of +mankind in the face of morals is that of the deepest +misery? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>107.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Our Right to our Folly.</hi>—How must we +act? Why must we act? So far as the coarse and +immediate needs of the individual are concerned, +it is easy to answer these questions, but the more +we enter upon the more important and more subtle +domains of action, the more does the problem become +uncertain and the more arbitrary its solution. An +arbitrary decision, however, is the very thing that +must be excluded here,—thus commands the authority +of morals: an obscure uneasiness and awe +must relentlessly guide man in those very actions +the objects and means of which he cannot at once +perceive. This authority of morals undermines our +thinking faculty in regard to those things concerning +which it might be dangerous to think wrongly,—it +is in this way, at all events, that morality usually +justifies itself to its accusers. Wrong in this place +means dangerous; but dangerous to whom? It +<pb n='104'/><anchor id='Pg104'/> +is not, as a rule, the danger of the doer of the action +which the supporters of authoritative morals have +in view, but their own danger; the loss which their +power and influence might undergo if the right to +act according to their own greater or lesser reason, +however wilfully and foolishly, were accorded to all +men. They on their part make unhesitating use +of their right to arbitrariness and folly,—they even +command in cases where it is hardly possible, or at +all events very difficult, to answer the questions, +<q>How must they act, why must they act?</q> And +if the reason of mankind grows with such extraordinary +slowness that it was often possible to deny +its growth during the whole course of humanity, +what is more to blame for this than this solemn +presence, even omnipresence, of moral commands, +which do not even permit the individual question +of how and why to be asked at all? Have we not +been educated precisely in such a way as to make +us feel pathetic, and thus to obscure our vision at +the very time when our reason should be able to +see as clearly and calmly as possible—<hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> in all +higher and more important circumstances? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>108.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Some Theses.</hi>—We should not give the individual, +in so far as he desires his own happiness, +any precepts or recommendations as to the road +leading to happiness; for individual happiness arises +from particular laws that are unknown to anybody, +and such a man will only be hindered or obstructed +by recommendations which come to him from outside +<pb n='105'/><anchor id='Pg105'/> +sources. Those precepts which are called moral +are in reality directed against individuals, and do +not by any means make for the happiness of such individuals. +The relationship of these precepts to the +"happiness and well-being of mankind" is equally +slight, for it is quite impossible to assign a definite +conception to these words, and still less can they +be employed as guiding stars on the dark sea of +moral aspirations. It is a prejudice to think that +morality is more favourable to the development of +the reason than immorality. It is erroneous to +suppose that the unconscious aim in the development +of every conscious being (namely, animal, +man, humanity, etc.) is its <q>greatest happiness</q>: +on the contrary, there is a particular and incomparable +happiness to be attained at every stage of +our development, one that is neither high nor low, +but quite an individual happiness. Evolution does +not make happiness its goal; it aims merely at +evolution, and nothing else. It is only if humanity +had a universally recognised goal that we could +propose to do this or that: for the time being there +is no such goal. It follows that the pretensions +of morality should not be brought into any relationship +with mankind: this would be merely childish +and irrational. It is quite another thing to recommend +a goal to mankind: this goal would then be +something that would depend upon our own will +and pleasure. Provided that mankind in general +agreed to adopt such a goal, it could then impose +a moral law upon itself, a law which would, at all +events, be imposed by their own free will. Up to +now, however, the moral law has had to be placed +<pb n='106'/><anchor id='Pg106'/> +above our own free will: strictly speaking, men +did not wish to impose this law upon themselves; +they wished to take it from somewhere, to discover +it, or to let themselves be commanded by it from +somewhere. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>109.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Self-control and Moderation, and their +Final Motive.</hi>—I find not more than six essentially +different methods for combating the vehemence +of an impulse. First of all, we may avoid the +occasion for satisfying the impulse, weakening and +mortifying it by refraining from satisfying it for +long and ever-lengthening periods. Secondly, we +may impose a severe and regular order upon ourselves +in regard to the satisfying of our appetites. +By thus regulating the impulse and limiting its ebb +and flow to fixed periods, we may obtain intervals +in which it ceases to disturb us; and by beginning +in this way we may perhaps be able to pass on to +the first method. In the third place, we may deliberately +give ourselves over to an unrestrained and +unbounded gratification of the impulse in order that +we may become disgusted with it, and to obtain by +means of this very disgust a command over the impulse: +provided, of course, that we do not imitate the +rider who rides his horse to death and breaks his +own neck in doing so. For this, unhappily, is generally +the outcome of the application of this third +method. +</p> + +<p> +In the fourth place, there is an intellectual trick, +which consists in associating the idea of the gratification +<pb n='107'/><anchor id='Pg107'/> +so firmly with some painful thought, that after a +little practice the thought of gratification is itself immediately +felt as a very painful one. (For example, +when the Christian accustoms himself to think of +the presence and scorn of the devil in the course of +sensual enjoyment, or everlasting punishment in +hell for revenge by murder; or even merely of the +contempt which he will meet with from those of +his fellow-men whom he most respects, if he steals +a sum of money, or if a man has often checked an +intense desire for suicide by thinking of the grief +and self-reproaches of his relations and friends, and +has thus succeeded in balancing himself upon the +edge of life: for, after some practice, these ideas +follow one another in his mind like cause and effect.) +Among instances of this kind may be mentioned +the cases of Lord Byron and Napoleon, in whom +the pride of man revolted and took offence at the +preponderance of one particular passion over the +collective attitude and order of reason. From this +arises the habit and joy of tyrannising over the +craving and making it, as it were, gnash its teeth. +<q>I will not be a slave of any appetite,</q> wrote Byron +in his diary. In the fifth place, we may bring about +a dislocation of our powers by imposing upon ourselves +a particularly difficult and fatiguing task, or +by deliberately submitting to some new charm and +pleasure in order thus to turn our thoughts and +physical powers into other channels. It comes to +the same thing if we temporarily favour another impulse +by affording it numerous opportunities of +gratification, and thus rendering it the squanderer +of the power which would otherwise be commandeered, +<pb n='108'/><anchor id='Pg108'/> +so to speak, by the tyrannical impulse. A +few, perhaps, will be able to restrain the particular +passion which aspires to domination by granting +their other known passions a temporary encouragement +and license in order that they may devour +the food which the tyrant wishes for himself +alone. +</p> + +<p> +In the sixth and last place, the man who can +stand it, and thinks it reasonable to weaken and subdue +his entire physical and psychical organisation, +likewise, of course, attains the goal of weakening a +single violent instinct; as, for example, those who +starve their sensuality and at the same time their +vigour, and often destroy their reason into the bargain, +such as the ascetics.—Hence, shunning the +opportunities, regulating the impulse, bringing +about satiety and disgust in the impulse, associating +a painful idea (such as that of discredit, disgust, or +offended pride), then the dislocation of one's forces, +and finally general debility and exhaustion: these +are the six methods. But the will to combat the +violence of a craving is beyond our power, equally +with the method we adopt and the success we may +have in applying it. In all this process our intellect +is rather merely the blind instrument of another rival +craving, whether it be the impulse to repose, or the +fear of disgrace and other evil consequences, or love. +While <q>we</q> thus imagine that we are complaining +of the violence of an impulse, it is at bottom merely +one impulse which is complaining of another, <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> the +perception of the violent suffering which is being +caused us presupposes that there is another equally +or more violent impulse, and that a struggle +<pb n='109'/><anchor id='Pg109'/> +is impending in which our intellect must take +part. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>110.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>That which Opposes.</hi>—We may observe the +following process in ourselves, and I should like +it to be often observed and confirmed. There arises +in us the scent of a kind of pleasure hitherto unknown +to us, and consequently a new craving. +Now, the question is, What opposes itself to this +craving? If it be things and considerations of a +common kind, or people whom we hold in no very +high esteem, the aim of the new craving assumes +the appearance of a <q>noble, good, praiseworthy +feeling, and one worthy of sacrifice</q>: all the moral +dispositions which have been inherited will adopt +it and will add it to the number of those aims which +we consider as moral—and now we imagine that +we are no longer striving after a pleasure, but after +a morality, which greatly increases our confidence +in our aspirations. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>111.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To the Admirers of Objectiveness.</hi>—He +who, as a child, has observed in his parents and +acquaintances in the midst of whom he has grown +up, certain varied and strong feelings, with but +little subtle discernment and inclination for intellectual +justice, and has therefore employed his best +powers and his most precious time in imitating these +feelings, will observe in himself when he arrives +at years of discretion that every new thing or man +he meets with excites in him either sympathy or +<pb n='110'/><anchor id='Pg110'/> +aversion, envy or contempt. Under the domination +of this experience, which he is powerless to +shake off, he admires neutrality of feeling or +<q>objectivity</q> as an extraordinary thing, as something +connected with genius or a very rare morality, +and he cannot believe that even this neutrality is +merely the product of education and habit. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>112.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>On the Natural History of Duty and +Right.</hi>—Our duties are the claims which others +have upon us. How did they acquire these claims? +By the fact that they considered us as capable of +making and holding agreements and contracts, by +assuming that we were their like and equals, and +by consequently entrusting something to us, bringing +us up, educating us, and supporting us. We +do our duty, <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> we justify that conception of our +power for the sake of which all these things were +done for us. We return them in proportion as +they were meted out to us. It is thus our pride +that orders us to do our duty—we desire to re-establish +our own independence by opposing to that +which others have done for us something that we +do for them, for in that way the others invade our +sphere of power, and would for ever have a hand +in it if we did not make reprisals by means of +<q>duty,</q> and thus encroach upon their power. The +rights of others can only have regard to that which +lies within our power; it would be unreasonable +on their part to require something from us which +does not belong to us. To put the matter more +<pb n='111'/><anchor id='Pg111'/> +accurately, their rights can only relate to what they +imagine to be in our power, provided that it is +something that we ourselves consider as being in +our power. The same error may easily occur on +either side. The feeling of duty depends upon +our having the same belief in regard to the extent +of our power as other people have, <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> that we can +promise certain things and undertake to do them +freely (<q>free will</q>). +</p> + +<p> +My rights consist of that part of my power which +others have not only conceded to me, but which +they wish to maintain for me. Why do they do +it? On the one hand they are actuated by wisdom, +fear and prudence: whether they expect something +similar from us (the protection of their rights), +whether they consider a struggle with us as dangerous +or inopportune, or whether they see a disadvantage +to themselves in every diminution of our +power, since in that case we should be ill adapted +for an alliance with them against a hostile third +power. On the other hand rights are granted by +donations and cessions. In this latter case, the +other people have not only enough power, but more +than enough, so that they can give up a portion and +guarantee it to the person to whom they give it: +whereby they presuppose a certain restricted sense +of power in the person upon whom they have bestowed +the gift. In this way rights arise: recognised +and guaranteed degrees of power. When +the relations of powers to one another are materially +changed, rights disappear and new ones are formed, +as is demonstrated by the constant flux and reflux +of the rights of nations. When our power diminishes +<pb n='112'/><anchor id='Pg112'/> +to any great extent, the feelings of those who +hitherto guaranteed it undergo some change: they +consider whether they shall once again restore us to +our former possession, and if they do not see their +way to do this they deny our <q>rights</q> from that +time forward. In the same way, if our power increases +to a considerable extent the feelings of those +who previously recognised it, and whose recognition +we no longer require, likewise change: they will +then try to reduce our power to its former dimensions, +and they will endeavour to interfere in our +affairs, justifying their interference by an appeal to +their <q>duty.</q> But this is merely useless word-quibbling. +Where right prevails, a certain state and +degree of power is maintained, and all attempts at +its augmentation and diminution are resisted. The +right of others is the concession of our feeling of +power to the feeling of power in these others. +Whenever our power shows itself to be thoroughly +shattered and broken, our rights cease: on the +other hand, when we have become very much +stronger, the rights of others cease in our minds to be +what we have hitherto admitted them to be. The +man who aims at being just, therefore, must keep a +constant lookout for the changes in the indicator of +the scales in order that he may properly estimate the +degrees of power and right which, with the customary +transitoriness of human things, retain their +equilibrium for only a short time and in most cases +continue to rise and fall. As a consequence it is +thus very difficult to be <q>just,</q> and requires much +experience, good intentions, and an unusually large +amount of good sense. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='113'/><anchor id='Pg113'/> + +<div> +<head>113.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Striving for Distinction.</hi>—When we strive +after distinction we must ceaselessly keep our eyes +fixed on our neighbour and endeavour to ascertain +what his feelings are; but the sympathy and +knowledge which are necessary to satisfy this desire +are far from being inspired by harmlessness, compassion, +or kindness. On the contrary, we wish +to perceive or find out in what way our neighbour +suffers from us, either internally or externally, how +he loses control over himself and yields to the +impression which our hand or even our mere +appearance makes on him. Even when he who +aspires to distinction makes or wishes to make a +joyful, elevating, or cheerful impression, he does +not enjoy this success in that he rejoices, exalts, +or cheers his neighbour, but in that he leaves his +impress on the latter's soul, changing its form and +dominating it according to his will. The desire for +distinction is the desire to subject one's neighbour, +even if it be merely in an indirect fashion, one only +felt or even only dreamt of. There is a long series +of stages in this secretly-desired will to subdue, and +a very complete record of them would perhaps +almost be like an excellent history of culture from +the early distortions of barbarism down to the +caricatures of modern over-refinement and sickly +idealism. +</p> + +<p> +This desire for distinction entails upon our +neighbour—to indicate only a few rungs of the +long ladder—torture first of all, followed by blows, +then terror, anxious surprise, wonder, envy, admiration, +<pb n='114'/><anchor id='Pg114'/> +elevation, pleasure, joy, laughter, derision, +mockery, sneers, scourging and self-inflicted torture. +There at the very top of the ladder stands the +ascetic and martyr, who himself experiences the +utmost satisfaction, because he inflicts on himself, +as a result of his desire for distinction, that pain +which his opposite, the barbarian on the first rung +of the ladder, inflicts upon those others, upon whom +and before whom he wishes to distinguish himself. +The triumph of the ascetic over himself, his introspective +glance, which beholds a man split up into +a sufferer and a spectator, and which henceforth +never looks at the outside world but to gather from +it, as it were, wood for his own funeral pyre: this +final tragedy of the desire for distinction which +shows us only one person who, so to speak, is consumed +internally—that is an end worthy of the +beginning: in both cases there is an inexpressible +happiness at the sight of torture; indeed, happiness +considered as a feeling of power developed to the +utmost, has perhaps never reached a higher pitch +of perfection on earth than in the souls of superstitious +ascetics. This is expressed by the +Brahmins in the story of King Visvamitra, who +obtained so much strength by thousands of years +of penance that he undertook to construct a new +heaven. I believe that in the entire category of +inward experiences the people of our time are mere +novices and clumsy guessers who <q>try to have a shot +at it</q>: four thousand years ago much more was +known about these execrable refinements of self-enjoyment. +Perhaps at that time the creation of +the world was imagined by some Hindu dreamer +<pb n='115'/><anchor id='Pg115'/> +to have been an ascetic operation which a god took +upon himself! Perhaps this god may have wished +to join himself to a mobile nature as an instrument +of torture in order thus to feel his happiness and +power doubled! And even supposing him to have +been a god of love: what a delight it would have +been for him to create a suffering mankind in order +that he himself might suffer divinely and super-humanly +from the sight of the continual torture of +his creatures, and thus to tyrannise over himself! +And, again, supposing him to have been not only +a god of love, but also a god of holiness, we can +scarcely conceive the ecstasies of this divine ascetic +while creating sins and sinners and eternal punishment, +and an immense place of eternal torture +below his throne where there is a continual weeping +and wailing and gnashing of teeth! +</p> + +<p> +It is not by any means impossible that the soul +of a St. Paul, a Dante, or a Calvin, and people like +them, may once have penetrated into the terrifying +secrets of such voluptuousness of power, and in +view of such souls we may well ask whether the +circle of this desire for distinction has come to a +close with the ascetic. Might it not be possible +for the course of this circle to be traversed a second +time, by uniting the fundamental idea of the ascetic, +and at the same time that of a compassionate +Deity? In other words, pain would be given to +others in order that pain might be given to one's +self, so that in this way one could triumph over +one's self and one's pity to enjoy the extreme +voluptuousness of power.—Forgive me these +digressions, which come to my mind when I think +<pb n='116'/><anchor id='Pg116'/> +of all the possibilities in the vast domain of +psychical debaucheries to which one may be led +by the desire for power! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>114.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>On the Knowledge of the Sufferer.</hi>—The +state of sick men who have suffered long and +terribly from the torture inflicted upon them by +their illness, and whose reason has nevertheless not +been in any way affected, is not without a certain +amount of value in our search for knowledge—quite +apart from the intellectual benefits which +follow upon every profound solitude and every +sudden and justified liberation from duties and +habits. The man who suffers severely looks forth +with terrible calmness from his state of suffering +upon outside things: all those little lying enchantments, +by which things are usually surrounded when +seen through the eye of a healthy person, have +vanished from the sufferer; his own life even lies +there before him, stripped of all bloom and colour. +If by chance it has happened that up to then he +has lived in some kind of dangerous fantasy, this +extreme disenchantment through pain is the means, +and possibly the only means, of extricating him +from it. (It is possible that this is what happened +to the Founder of Christianity when suspended +from the Cross; for the bitterest words ever pronounced, +<q>My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken +Me?</q> if understood in their deepest sense, +as they ought to be understood, contain the +evidence of a complete disillusionment and enlightenment +<pb n='117'/><anchor id='Pg117'/> +in regard to the deceptions of life: in +that moment of supreme suffering Christ obtained +a clear insight into Himself, just as in the poet's +narrative did the poor dying Don Quixote.) +</p> + +<p> +The formidable tension of the intellect that +wishes to hold its own against pain shows everything +that one now looks upon in a new light, and +the inexpressible charm of this new light is often +powerful enough to withstand all the seductiveness +of suicide and to make the continuation of life seem +very desirable to the sufferer. His mind scornfully +turns to the warm and comfortable dream-world +in which the healthy man moves about thoughtlessly, +and he thinks with contempt of the noblest +and most cherished illusions in which he formerly +indulged. He experiences delight in conjuring up +this contempt as if from the depths of hell, and +thus inflicting the bitterest sufferings upon his soul: +it is by this counterpoise that he bears up against +physical suffering—he feels that such a counterpoise +is now essential! In one terrible moment +of clear-sightedness he says to himself, <q>Be for +once thine own accuser and hangman; for once +regard thy suffering as a punishment which thou +hast inflicted on thyself! Enjoy thy superiority +as a judge: better still, enjoy thine own will and +pleasure, thy tyrannical arbitrariness! Raise thyself +above thy life as above thy suffering, and look +down into the depth of reason and unreason!</q> +</p> + +<p> +Our pride revolts as it never did before, it experiences +an incomparable charm in defending life +against such a tyrant as suffering and against all +the insinuations of this tyrant, who would fain urge +<pb n='118'/><anchor id='Pg118'/> +us to give evidence against life,—we are taking the +part of life in the face of this tyrant. In this state +of mind we take up a bitter stand against all +pessimism in order that it may not appear to be a +consequence of our condition, and thus humiliate +us as conquered ones. The charm of being just +in our judgments was also never greater than now; +for now this justice is a triumph over ourselves and +over so irritated a state of mind that unfairness of +judgment might be excused,—but we will not be +excused, it is now, if ever, that we wish to show that +we need no excuse. We pass through downright +orgies of pride. +</p> + +<p> +And now appears the first ray of relief, of recovery, +and one of its first effects is that we turn +against the preponderance of our pride: we call +ourselves foolish and vain, as if we had undergone +some unique experience. We humiliate ungratefully +this all-powerful pride, the aid of which enabled +us to endure the pain we suffered, and we +call vehemently for some antidote for this pride: +we wish to become strangers to ourselves and to +be freed from our own person after pain has forcibly +made us personal too long. <q>Away with this +pride,</q> we cry, <q>it was only another illness and +convulsion!</q> Once more we look longingly at +men and nature and recollect with a sorrowful smile +that now since the veil has fallen we regard many +things concerning them in a new and different +light,—but we are refreshed by once more seeing +the softened lights of life, and emerge from +that fearfully dispassionate daylight in which we +as sufferers saw things and through things. We +<pb n='119'/><anchor id='Pg119'/> +do not get angry when we see the charms of +health resume their play, and we contemplate the +sight as if transformed, gently and still fatigued. +In this state we cannot listen to music without +weeping. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>115.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The so-called <q>Ego.</q></hi>—Language and the +prejudices upon which language is based very often +act as obstacles in our paths when we proceed to +explore internal phenomena and impulses: as one +example, we may instance the fact that there are +only words to express the superlative degrees of +these phenomena and impulses. Now, it is our +habit no longer to observe accurately when words +fail us, since it is difficult in such cases to think +with precision: in former times, even, people involuntarily +came to the conclusion that where the +domain of words ceased, the domain of existence +ceased also. Wrath, hatred, love, pity, desire, +recognition, joy, pain: all these are names indicating +extreme conditions; the milder and middle +stages, and even more particularly the ever active +lower stages, escape our attention, and yet it is they +which weave the warp and woof of our character +and destiny. It often happens that these extreme +outbursts—and even the most moderate pleasure +or displeasure of which we are actually conscious, +whether in partaking of food or listening to a sound, +is possibly, if properly estimated, merely an extreme +outburst,—destroy the texture and are then violent +exceptions, in most cases the consequences of some +congestions,—and how easily as such can they +<pb n='120'/><anchor id='Pg120'/> +mislead the observer! as indeed they mislead the +person acting! We are all of us not what we +appear to be according to the conditions for which +alone we have consciousness and words, and consequently +praise and blame. We fail to recognise +ourselves after these coarse outbursts which are +known to ourselves alone, we draw conclusions from +data where the exceptions prove stronger than the +rules; we misinterpret ourselves in reading our own +ego's pronouncements, which appeared to be so +clear. But our opinion of ourselves, this so-called +ego which we have arrived at by this wrong method, +contributes henceforth to form our character and +destiny. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>116.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Unknown World of the <q>Subject.</q></hi>—What +men have found it so difficult to understand +from the most ancient times down to the +present day is their ignorance in regard to themselves, +not merely with respect to good and evil, +but something even more essential. The oldest of +illusions lives on, namely, that we know, and know +precisely in each case, how human action is originated. +Not only <q>God who looks into the heart,</q> +not only the man who acts and reflects upon his +action, but everybody does not doubt that he understands +the phenomena of action in every one else. +<q>I know what I want and what I have done, I am +free and responsible for my act, and I make others +responsible for their acts; I can mention by its +name every moral possibility and every internal +movement which precedes an act,—ye may act as +<pb n='121'/><anchor id='Pg121'/> +ye will, I understand myself and I understand +you all!</q> Such was what every one thought once +upon a time, and almost every one thinks so even +now. Socrates and Plato, who in this matter were +great sceptics and admirable innovators, were nevertheless +intensely credulous in regard to that fatal +prejudice, that profound error, which holds that +<q>The right knowledge must necessarily be followed +by the right action.</q> In holding this principle they +were still the heirs of the universal folly and presumption +that knowledge exists concerning the +essence of an action. +</p> + +<p> +<q>It would indeed be dreadful if the comprehension +of the essence of a right action were not +followed by that right action itself</q>—this was the +only manner in which these great men thought it +necessary to demonstrate this idea, the contrary +seemed to them to be inconceivable and mad; and +nevertheless this contrary corresponds to the naked +reality which has been demonstrated daily and +hourly from time immemorial. Is it not a <q>dreadful</q> +truth that all that we know about an act is never +sufficient to accomplish it, that the bridge connecting +the knowledge of the act with the act itself has +never yet been built? Acts are never what they +appear to us to be. We have taken great pains +to learn that external things are not as they +appear to us.—Well! It is the same with internal +phenomena. All moral acts are in reality <q>something +different,</q>—we cannot say anything more +about them, and all acts are essentially unknown +to us. The general belief, however, has been and +still is quite the contrary: the most ancient realism +<pb n='122'/><anchor id='Pg122'/> +is against us: up to the present humanity has +thought, <q>An action is what it appears to be.</q> +(In re-reading these words a very expressive passage +from Schopenhauer occurs to me, and I will quote +it as a proof that he, too, without the slightest +scruple, continued to adhere to this moral realism: +<q>Each one of us is in reality a competent and +perfect moral judge, knowing exactly good and +evil, made holy by loving good and despising evil,—such +is every one of us in so far as the acts of +others and not his own are under consideration, and +when he has merely to approve or disapprove, whilst +the burden of the performance of the acts is borne +by other shoulders. Every one is therefore justified +in occupying as confessor the place of God.</q>) +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>117.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>In Prison.</hi>—My eye, whether it be keen or +weak, can only see a certain distance, and it is +within this space that I live and move: this +horizon is my immediate fate, greater or lesser, +from which I cannot escape. Thus, a concentric +circle is drawn round every being, which has a centre +and is peculiar to himself. In the same way our +ear encloses us in a small space, and so likewise +does our touch. We measure the world by these +horizons within which our senses confine each of +us within prison walls. We say that this is near +and that is far distant, that this is large and that is +small, that one thing is hard and another soft; and +this appreciation of things we call sensation—but +it is all an error <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>per se</foreign>! According to the number +<pb n='123'/><anchor id='Pg123'/> +of events and emotions which it is on an average +possible for us to experience in a given space of +time, we measure our lives; we call them short or +long, rich or poor, full or empty; and according to +the average of human life we estimate that of other +beings,—and all this is an error <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>per se</foreign>! +</p> + +<p> +If we had eyes a hundred times more piercing +to examine the things that surround us, men would +seem to us to be enormously tall; we can even +imagine organs by means of which men would appear +to us to be of immeasurable stature. On the +other hand, certain organs could be so formed as to +permit us to view entire solar systems as if they were +contracted and brought close together like a single +cell: and to beings of an inverse order a single cell +of the human body could be made to appear in its +construction, movement, and harmony as if it were +a solar system in itself. The habits of our senses +have wrapped us up in a tissue of lying sensations +which in their turn lie at the base of all our judgments +and our <q>knowledge,</q>—there are no means +of exit or escape to the real world! We are like +spiders in our own webs, and, whatever we may +catch in them, it will only be something that our +web is capable of catching. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>118.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>What is our Neighbour?</hi>—What do we conceive +of our neighbour except his limits: I mean +that whereby he, as it were, engraves and stamps +himself in and upon us? We can understand +nothing of him except the changes which take place +<pb n='124'/><anchor id='Pg124'/> +upon our own person and of which he is the cause, +what we know of him is like a hollow, modelled +space. We impute to him the feelings which his +acts arouse in us, and thus give him a wrong and +inverted positivity. We form him after our knowledge +of ourselves into a satellite of our own system, +and if he shines upon us, or grows dark, and we in +any case are the ultimate cause of his doing so, we +nevertheless still believe the contrary! O world +of phantoms in which we live! O world so perverted, +topsy-turvy and empty, and yet dreamt of +as full and upright! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>119.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Experience and Invention.</hi>—To however +high a degree a man can attain to knowledge of +himself, nothing can be more incomplete than the +conception which he forms of the instincts constituting +his individuality. He can scarcely name the +more common instincts: their number and force, +their flux and reflux, their action and counteraction, +and, above all, the laws of their nutrition, remain +absolutely unknown to him. This nutrition, therefore, +becomes a work of chance: the daily experiences +of our lives throw their prey now to this instinct and +now to that, and the instincts gradually seize upon +it; but the ebb and flow of these experiences does +not stand in any rational relationship to the nutritive +needs of the total number of the instincts. Two +things, then, must always happen: some cravings +will be neglected and starved to death, while others +will be overfed. Every moment in the life of man +causes some polypous arms of his being to grow and +<pb n='125'/><anchor id='Pg125'/> +others to wither away, in accordance with the nutriment +which that moment may or may not bring with +it. Our experiences, as I have already said, are all +in this sense means of nutriment, but scattered about +with a careless hand and without discrimination +between the hungry and the overfed. As a consequence +of this accidental nutrition of each particular +part, the polypus in its complete development will +be something just as fortuitous as its growth. +</p> + +<p> +To put this more clearly: let us suppose that an +instinct or craving has reached that point when it +demands gratification,—either the exercise of its +power or the discharge of it, or the filling up of a +vacuum (all this is metaphorical language),—then +it will examine every event that occurs in the course +of the day to ascertain how it can be utilised with +the object of fulfilling its aim: whether the man +runs or rests, or is angry, or reads or speaks or +fights or rejoices, the unsatiated instinct watches, +as it were, every condition into which the man +enters, and, as a rule, if it finds nothing for itself +it must wait, still unsatisfied. After a little while +it becomes feeble, and at the end of a few days or +a few months, if it has not been satisfied, it will +wither away like a plant which has not been +watered. This cruelty of chance would perhaps be +more conspicuous if all the cravings were as vehement +in their demands as hunger, which refuses to +be satisfied with imaginary dishes; but the great +majority of our instincts, especially those which are +called moral, are thus easily satisfied,—if it be permitted +to suppose that our dreams serve as compensation +to a certain extent for the accidental +<pb n='126'/><anchor id='Pg126'/> +absence of <q>nutriment</q> during the day. Why was +last night's dream full of tenderness and tears, that +of the night before amusing and gay, and the +previous one adventurous and engaged in some +continual obscure search? How does it come about +that in this dream I enjoy indescribable beauties of +music, and in that one I soar and fly upwards with +the delight of an eagle to the most distant heights? +</p> + +<p> +These inventions in which our instincts of tenderness, +merriment, or adventurousness, or our desire +for music and mountains, can have free play and +scope—and every one can recall striking instances—are +interpretations of our nervous irritations +during sleep, very free and arbitrary interpretations +of the movements of our blood and intestines, and +the pressure of our arm and the bed coverings, or +the sound of a church bell, the weathercocks, the +moths, and so on. That this text, which on the +whole is very much the same for one night as +another, is so differently commented upon, that our +creative reason imagines such different causes for +the nervous irritations of one day as compared with +another, may be explained by the fact that the +prompter of this reason was different to-day from +yesterday—another instinct or craving wished to +be satisfied, to show itself, to exercise itself and be +refreshed and discharged: this particular one being +at its height to-day and another one being at its +height last night. Real life has not the freedom +of interpretation possessed by dream life; it is less +poetic and less unrestrained—but is it necessary for +me to show that our instincts, when we are awake, +likewise merely interpret our nervous irritations and +<pb n='127'/><anchor id='Pg127'/> +determine their <q>causes</q> in accordance with their +requirements? that there is no really essential +difference between waking and dreaming! that +even in comparing different degrees of culture, the +freedom of the conscious interpretation of the one +is not in any way inferior to the freedom in dreams +of the other! that our moral judgments and valuations +are only images and fantasies concerning +physiological processes unknown to us, a kind of +habitual language to describe certain nervous irritations? +that all our so-called consciousness is a more +or less fantastic commentary of an unknown text, +one which is perhaps unknowable but yet felt? +</p> + +<p> +Consider some insignificant occurrence. Let us +suppose that some day as we pass along a public +street we see some one laughing at us. In accordance +with whatever craving has reached its culminating +point within us at that moment, this incident +will have this or that signification for us; and it +will be a very different occurrence in accordance +with the class of men to which we belong. One +man will take it like a drop of rain, another will +shake it off like a fly, a third person will try to pick +a quarrel on account of it, a fourth will examine +his garments to see if there is anything about them +likely to cause laughter, and a fifth will in consequence +think about what is ridiculous <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>per se</foreign>, a sixth +will be pleased at having involuntarily contributed +to add a ray of sunshine and mirth to the world,—in +all these cases some craving is gratified, whether +anger, combativeness, meditation, or benevolence. +This instinct, whatever it may be, has seized upon +that incident as its prey: why that particular one? +<pb n='128'/><anchor id='Pg128'/> +Because, hungry and thirsty, it was lying in +ambush. +</p> + +<p> +Not long ago at 11 o'clock in the morning a man +suddenly collapsed and fell down in front of me as +if struck by lightning. All the women who were +near at once gave utterance to cries of horror, while +I set the man on his feet again and waited until +he recovered his speech. During this time no +muscle of my face moved and I experienced no +sensation of fear or pity; I simply did what was +most urgent and reasonable and calmly proceeded +on my way. Supposing some one had told me on +the previous evening that at 11 o'clock on the +following day a man would fall down in front of +me like this, I should have suffered all kinds of +agonies in the interval, lying awake all night, and +at the decisive moment should also perhaps have +fallen down like the man instead of helping him; +for in the meantime all the imaginable cravings +within me would have had leisure to conceive and +to comment upon this incident. What are our experiences, +then? Much more what we attribute to +them than what they really are. Or should we +perhaps say that nothing is contained in them? +that experiences in themselves are merely works of +fancy? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>120.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To Tranquillise the Sceptic.</hi>—<q>I don't +know at all what I am doing. I don't know in +the least what I ought to do!</q>—You are right, but +be sure of this: you are being done at every +moment! Mankind has at all times mistaken the +<pb n='129'/><anchor id='Pg129'/> +active for the passive: it is its eternal grammatical +blunder. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>121.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Cause and Effect.</hi>—On this mirror—and our +intellect is a mirror—something is going on that +indicates regularity: a certain thing is each time followed +by another certain thing. When we perceive +this and wish to give it a name, we call it cause and +effect,—fools that we are! as if in this we had +understood or could understand anything! For, of +course, we have seen nothing but the images of +causes and effects, and it is just this figurativeness +which renders it impossible for us to see a more +substantial relation than that of sequence! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>122.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Purposes in Nature.</hi>—Any impartial +investigator who examines the history of the eye +and its form in the lower creatures, and sees how +the visual organ was slowly developed, cannot help +recognising that sight was not the first purpose of +the eye, but probably only asserted itself when pure +hazard had contributed to bring together the apparatus. +One single example of this kind, and the +<q>final purposes</q> fall from our eyes like scales. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>123.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Reason.</hi>—How did reason come into the +world? As is only proper, in an irrational manner; +by accident. We shall have to guess at this accident +as a riddle. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='130'/><anchor id='Pg130'/> + +<div> +<head>124.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>What Is Volition?</hi>—We laugh at a man +who, stepping out of his room at the very minute +when the sun is rising, says, <q>It is my <emph>will</emph> that the +sun shall rise</q>; or at him who, unable to stop a +wheel, says, <q>I <emph>wish</emph> it to roll</q>; or, again, at him who, +thrown in a wrestling match, says, <q>Here I lie, but +here I <emph>wish</emph> to lie.</q> But, joking apart, do we not +act like one of these three persons whenever we use +the expression <q>I wish</q>? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>125.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>On the Domain of Freedom.</hi>—We can <emph>think</emph> +many more things than we can do and experience—<hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> +our faculty of thinking is superficial and is +satisfied with what lies on the surface, it does not +even perceive this surface. If our intellect were +strictly developed in proportion to our power, and +our exercise of this power, the primary principle of +our thinking would be that we can understand only +that which we are able to do—if, indeed, there is +any understanding at all. The thirsty man is +without water, but the creations of his imagination +continually bring the image of water to his sight, +as if nothing could be more easily procured. The +superficial and easily satisfied character of the intellect +cannot understand real need, and thus feels +itself superior. It is proud of being able to do more, +to run faster, and to reach the goal almost within the +twinkling of an eye: and in this way the domain +of thought, when contrasted with the domain of +<pb n='131'/><anchor id='Pg131'/> +action, volition, and experience, appears to be the +domain of liberty, while, as I have already stated, +it is nothing but the domain of superficiality and +self-sufficiency. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>126.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Forgetfulness.</hi>—It has never yet been proved +that there is such a thing as forgetfulness: all that +we know is that we have no power over recollection. +In the meantime we have filled up this gap in our +power with the word <q>forgetfulness,</q> exactly as if +it were another faculty added to our list. But, after +all, what is within our power? If that word fills +up a gap in our power, might not the other words +be found capable of filling up a gap in the knowledge +which we possess of our power? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>127.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>For a Definite Purpose.</hi>—Of all human actions +probably the least understood are those which +are carried out for a definite purpose, because they +have always been regarded as the most intelligible +and commonplace to our intellect. The great problems +can be picked up in the highways and byways. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>128.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Dreaming and Responsibility.</hi>—You would +wish to be responsible for everything except your +dreams! What miserable weakness, what lack of +logical courage! Nothing contains more of your +<pb n='132'/><anchor id='Pg132'/> +own work than your dreams! Nothing belongs to +you so much! Substance, form, duration, actor, +spectator—in these comedies you act as your +complete selves! And yet it is just here that you +are afraid and ashamed of yourselves, and even +Oedipus, the wise Oedipus, derived consolation +from the thought that we cannot be blamed for +what we dream. From this I must conclude that +the great majority of men must have some dreadful +dreams to reproach themselves with. If it were +otherwise, to how great an extent would these +nocturnal fictions have been exploited in the +interests of man's pride! Need I add that the +wise Oedipus was right, that we are really not +responsible for our dreams any more than for our +waking hours, and that the doctrine of free will has +as its parents man's pride and sense of power! +Perhaps I say this too often; but that does not +prove that it is not true. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>129.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Alleged Combat of Motives.</hi>—People +speak of the <q>combat of motives,</q> but they designate +by this expression that which is not a combat +of motives at all. What I mean is that, in +our meditative consciousness, the consequences of +different actions which we think we are able to +carry out present themselves successively, one after +the other, and we compare these consequences in +our mind. We think we have come to a decision +concerning an action after we have established to +our own satisfaction that the consequences of this +<pb n='133'/><anchor id='Pg133'/> +action will be favourable. Before we arrive at this +conclusion, however, we often seriously worry because +of the great difficulties we experience in +guessing what the consequences are likely to be, +and in seeing them in their full importance, without +exception—and, after all this, we must reckon up any +fortuitous elements that are likely to arise. Then +comes the chief difficulty: all the consequences +which we have with such difficulty determined one +by one must be weighed on some scales against +each other; and it only too often comes about that, +owing to the difference in the quality of all the conceivable +consequences, both scales and weights are +lacking for this casuistry of advantage. +</p> + +<p> +Even supposing, however, that in this case we +are able to overcome the difficulty, and that mere +hazard has placed in our scales results which permit +of a mutual balance, we have now, in the idea of +the consequences of a particular action, a motive +for performing this very action, but only one motive! +When we have finally decided to act, however, we +are fairly often influenced by another order of motives +than those of the <q>image of the consequences.</q> +What brings this about may be the habitual working +of our inner machinery, or some little encouragement +on the part of a person whom we fear or +honour or love, or the love of comfort which prefers +to do that which lies nearest; or some stirring of +the imagination provoked at the decisive moment +by some event of trifling importance; or some +physical influence which manifests itself quite unexpectedly; +a mere whim brings it about; or +the outburst of a passion which, as it accidentally +<pb n='134'/><anchor id='Pg134'/> +happens, is ready to burst forth—in a word, motives +operate which we do not understand very well, or +which we do not understand at all, and which +we can never balance against one another in +advance. +</p> + +<p> +It is probable that a contest is going on among +these motives too, a driving backwards and forwards, +a rising and lowering of the parts, and it is +this which would be the real <q>contest of motives,</q> +something quite invisible and unknown to us. I +have calculated the consequences and the successes, +and in doing so have set a very necessary motive +in the line of combat with the other motives,—but +I am as little able to draw up this battle line as to +see it: the battle itself is hidden from my sight, +as likewise is the victory, as victory; for I certainly +come to know what I shall finally do, but I cannot +know what motive has in the end proved to be the +victor. Nevertheless, we are decidedly not in the +habit of taking all these unconscious phenomena +into account, and we generally conceive of the preliminary +stages of an action only so far as they +are conscious: thus we mistake the combat of the +motives for a comparison of the possible consequences +of different actions,—a mistake that +brings with it most important consequences, and +consequences that are most fatal to the development +of morals. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>130.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Aims? Will?</hi>—We have accustomed ourselves +to believe in two kingdoms, the domain of purposes +and volition, and the domain of chance. In +<pb n='135'/><anchor id='Pg135'/> +this latter domain everything is done senselessly, +there is a continual going to and fro without any +one being able to say why or wherefore. We stand +in awe of this powerful realm of the great cosmic +stupidity, for in most instances we learn to know +it when it falls down upon the other world, that +of aims and intentions, like a slate from a roof, +always overwhelming some beautiful purpose of +ours. +</p> + +<p> +This belief in these two kingdoms arises from +ancient romanticism and legend: we clever dwarfs, +with all our will and aims, are interfered with, +knocked down, and very often crushed to death +by those ultra-stupid giants, the accidents,—but +in spite of this we should not like to be deprived +of the fearful poetry of their proximity, for these +monsters very often make their appearance when +life in the spider's web of definite aims has become +too tiresome or too anxious for us, and they sometimes +bring about a divine diversion when their +hands for once tear the whole web in pieces,—not +that these irrational beings ever intend to do what +they do, or even observe it. But their coarse and +bony hands rend our web as if it were thin air. +</p> + +<p> +Moira was the name given by the Greeks to +this realm of the incalculable and of sublime and +eternal limitedness; and they set it round their +gods like a horizon beyond which they could neither +see nor act,—with that secret defiance of the gods +which one meets with in different nations; the gods +are worshipped, but a final trump card is held in +readiness to play against them. As instances of +this we may recollect that the Indians and the +<pb n='136'/><anchor id='Pg136'/> +Persians, who conceived all their gods as having +to depend upon the sacrifices of mortals, so that +if it came to the worst the mortals could, at least, +let the gods die of starvation; or the gods of the +stubborn and melancholy Scandinavians, who enjoyed +a quiet revenge in the thought that a twilight +of the gods was to come as some compensation for +the perpetual fear which their evil gods caused them. +The case of Christianity was very different, for its +essential feelings were not those of the Indians, +Persians, Greeks, or Scandinavians. Christianity +commanded its disciples to worship in the dust the +spirit of power, and to kiss the very dust. It gave +the world to understand that this omnipotent <q>realm +of stupidity</q> was not so stupid as it seemed, and that +we, on the contrary, were stupid when we could not +perceive that behind this realm stood God Himself: +He who, although fond of dark, crooked and wonderful +ways, at last brought everything to a <q>glorious +end.</q> This new myth of God, who had hitherto +been mistaken for a race of giants or Moira, and who +was now Himself the spinner and weaver of webs +and purposes even more subtle than those of our +own intellect—so subtle, indeed, that they appear to +be incomprehensible and even unreasonable—this +myth was so bold a transformation and so daring a +paradox that the over-refined ancient world could +not resist it, however extravagant and contradictory +the thing seemed: for, let it be said in confidence, +there was a contradiction in it,—if our intellect cannot +divine the intellect and aims of God, how did +it divine this quality of its intellect and this quality +of God's intellect? +</p> + +<pb n='137'/><anchor id='Pg137'/> + +<p> +In more modern times, indeed, the doubt has increased +as to whether the slate that falls from the +roof is really thrown by <q>Divine love,</q> and mankind +again harks back to the old romance of giants and +dwarfs. Let us learn then, for it is time we did +so, that even in our supposed separate domain of +aims and reason the giants likewise rule. And +our aims and reason are not dwarfs, but giants. +And our own webs are just as often and as clumsily +rent by ourselves as by the slate. And not everything +is purpose that is called purpose, and still +less is everything will that is called will. And if +you come to the conclusion, <q>Then there is only +one domain, that of stupidity and hazard?</q> it must +be added that possibly there is only one domain, +possibly there is neither will nor aim, and we may +only have imagined these things. Those iron hands +of necessity that shake the dice-box of chance continue +their game indefinitely: hence, it must happen +that certain throws perfectly resemble every degree +of appropriateness and good sense. It may be that +our own voluntary acts and purposes are merely +such throws, and that we are too circumscribed +and vain to conceive our extremely circumscribed +state! that we ourselves shake the dice-box with +iron hands, and do nothing in our most deliberate +actions but play the game of necessity. Possibly! +To rise beyond this <q>possibly</q> we should indeed +have been guests in the Underworld, playing at dice +and betting with Proserpine at the table of the +goddess herself. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='138'/><anchor id='Pg138'/> + +<div> +<head>131.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Moral Fashions.</hi>—How moral judgments as +a whole have changed! The greatest marvels of +the morality of antiquity, such as Epictetus, knew +nothing of the glorification, now so common, of +the spirit of sacrifice, of living for others: after the +fashion of morality now prevailing we should really +call them immoral; for they fought with all their +strength for their own ego and against all sympathy +for others, especially for the sufferings and moral +imperfections of others. Perhaps they would reply +to us by saying, <q>If you feel yourselves to be such +dull and ugly people, by all means think of others +more than yourselves. You will be quite right in +doing so!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>132.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Last Echoes of Christianity In +Morals.</hi>—<q>On n'est bon que par la pitié: il +faut donc qu'il y ait quelque pitié dans tous nos +sentiments</q>—so says morality nowadays. And +how does this come about? The fact that the +man who performs social, sympathetic, disinterested, +and benevolent actions is now considered as the +moral man: this is perhaps the most general +effect, the most complete transformation, that +Christianity has produced in Europe; perhaps in +spite of itself, and not by any means because this +was part of its essential doctrine. But this was +the residuum of those Christian feelings that prevailed +at the time when the contrary and thoroughly +selfish faith in the <q>one thing needful,</q> the absolute +<pb n='139'/><anchor id='Pg139'/> +importance of eternal and personal salvation, together +with the dogmas upon which this belief had +rested, were gradually receding, and when the +auxiliary beliefs in <q>love</q> and <q>love of one's +neighbour,</q> harmonising with the extraordinary +practice of charity by the Church, were thereby +coming to the front. The more people gradually +became separated from the dogmas, the more did +they seek some sort of justification for this separation +in a cult of the love of humanity: not to fall +short in this respect of the Christian ideal, but to +excel it if possible, was the secret stimulus of all +the French free-thinkers from Voltaire to Auguste +Comte; and this latter with his famous moral +formula <q>vivre pour autrui</q> has indeed out-christianised +even Christianity! +</p> + +<p> +It was Schopenhauer in Germany and John +Stuart Mill in England who were the means of +bringing into the greatest prominence this doctrine +of sympathetic affections and of pity or utility to +others as a principle of action; but these men +themselves were only echoes. From about the +time of the French Revolution these doctrines +have manifested themselves in various places with +enormous force. Since then they have shown themselves +in their coarsest as well has their most subtle +form, and all Socialistic principles have almost +involuntarily taken their stand on the common +ground of this doctrine. At the present time there +is perhaps no more widely spread prejudice than +that of thinking that we know what really and +truly constitutes morality. Every one now seems +to learn with satisfaction that society is beginning +<pb n='140'/><anchor id='Pg140'/> +to adapt the individual to the general needs, and +that it is at the same time the happiness and +sacrifice of each one to consider himself as a useful +member and instrument of the whole. They have +still, however, doubts as to the form in which this +whole is to be looked for, whether in a state already +existing, or in one which has yet to be established, +or in a nation, or in an international brotherhood, or +in new and small economic communities. On this +point there is still much reflection, doubt, struggling, +excitement, and passion; but it is pleasant +and wonderful to observe the unanimity with which +the <q>ego</q> is called upon to practice self-denial, +until, in the form of adaptation to the whole, it +once again secures its own fixed sphere of rights +and duties,—until, indeed, it has become something +quite new and different. Nothing else is being +attempted, whether admitted or not, than the complete +transformation, even the weakening and +suppression of the individual: the supporters of +the majority never tire of enumerating and anathematising +all that is bad, hostile, lavish, expensive, +and luxurious in the form of individual +existence that has hitherto prevailed; they hope +that society may be administered in a cheaper, less +dangerous, more uniform, and more harmonious +way when nothing is left but large corporations +and their members. All that is considered as good +which in any way corresponds to this desire for +grouping men into one particular society, and to +the minor cravings which necessarily accompany +this desire,—this is the chief moral current of our +time; sympathy and social feelings are working +<pb n='141'/><anchor id='Pg141'/> +hand in glove. (Kant is still outside of this movement: +he expressly teaches that we should be +insensible to the sufferings of others if our benevolence +is to have any moral value,—a doctrine +which Schopenhauer, very angrily, as may easily +be imagined, described as the Kantian absurdity.) +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>133.</head> + +<p> +<q><hi rend='smallcaps'>No longer thinking of One's Self.</hi></q>—Let +us seriously consider why we should jump into +the water to rescue some one who has just fallen in +before our eyes, although we may have no particular +sympathy for him. We do it for pity's sake; no +one thinks now but of his neighbour,—so says +thoughtlessness. Why do we experience grief and +uneasiness when we see some one spit blood, although +we may be really ill-disposed towards him +and wish him no good? Out of pity; we have +ceased to think of ourselves,—so says thoughtlessness +again. The truth is that in our pity—I mean by +this what we erroneously call <q>pity</q>—we no longer +think consciously of ourselves, but quite unconsciously, +exactly as when slipping we unconsciously +make the best counter-motions possible in order to +recover our balance, and in doing so clearly use all +our intelligence. A mishap to another offends us; +it would bring our impotence, or perhaps our cowardice, +into strong relief if we could do nothing to help +him; or in itself it would give rise to a diminution of +our honour in the eyes of others and of ourselves. +Or again, accidents that happen to others act as +finger-posts to point out our own danger, and even as +<pb n='142'/><anchor id='Pg142'/> +indications of human peril and frailty they can produce +a painful effect upon us. We shake off this +kind of pain and offence, and balance it by an act +of pity behind which may be hidden a subtle form +of self-defence or even revenge. That at bottom +we strongly think of ourselves may easily be divined +from the decision that we arrive at in all cases where +we can avoid the sight of those who are suffering or +starving or wailing. We make up our minds not +to avoid such people when we can approach them +as powerful and helpful ones, when we can safely +reckon upon their applause, or wish to feel the contrast +of our own happiness, or, again, when we hope +to get rid of our own boredom. It is misleading to +call the suffering that we experience at such a sight, +and which may be of a very different kind, commiseration. +For in all cases it is a suffering from +which the suffering person before us is free: it is our +own suffering, just as his suffering is his own. It is +thus only this personal feeling of misery that we +get rid of by acts of compassion. Nevertheless, we +never act thus from one single motive: as it is certain +that we wish to free ourselves from suffering thereby, +it is also certain that by the same action we yield to +an impulse of pleasure. Pleasure arises at the sight +of a contrast to our own condition, at the knowledge +that we should be able to help if only we wished to +do so, at the thought of the praise and gratitude +which we should gain if we did help, at the very act +of helping, in so far as this might prove successful +(and because something which is gradually seen to +be successful gives pleasure to the doer); but even +more particularly at the feeling that our intervention +<pb n='143'/><anchor id='Pg143'/> +brings to an end some deplorable injustice,—even +the outburst of one's indignation is invigorating. +</p> + +<p> +All this, including even things still more subtle, +comprises <q>pity.</q> How clumsily with this one +word does language fall foul of such a complex and +polyphonous organism! That pity, on the other +hand, is identical with the suffering the sight of +which brings it about, or that it has a particularly +subtle and penetrating comprehension of it: this is +in contradiction to experience, and he who has glorified +pity under these two heads lacked sufficient +experience in the domain of morals. That is why +I am seized with some doubts when reading of the +incredible things attributed by Schopenhauer to +pity. It is obvious that he thereby wished to +make us believe in the great novelty he brought +forward, viz., that pity—the pity which he observed +so superficially and described so badly—was the +source of all and every past and future moral action,—and +all this precisely because of those faculties +which he had begun by attributing to it. +</p> + +<p> +What is it in the end that distinguishes men +without pity from men who are really compassionate? +In particular, to give merely an approximate +indication, they have not the sensitive feeling for +fear, the subtle faculty for perceiving danger: nor +yet is their vanity so easily wounded if something +happens which they might have been able to prevent,—the +caution of their pride commands them +not to interfere uselessly with the affairs of others; +they even act on the belief that every one should +help himself and play his own cards. Again, in +<pb n='144'/><anchor id='Pg144'/> +most cases they are more habituated to bearing pain +than compassionate men, and it does not seem at +all unjust to them that others should suffer, since +they themselves have suffered. Lastly, the state +of soft-heartedness is as painful to them as is the +state of stoical impassability to compassionate men: +they have only disdainful words for sensitive hearts, +as they think that such a state of feeling is dangerous +to their own manliness and calm bravery,—they +conceal their tears from others and wipe them +off, angry with themselves. They belong to a +different type of egoists from the compassionate +men,—but to call them, in a distinct sense, evil and +the compassionate ones good, is merely a moral +fashion which has had its innings, just as the reverse +fashion had also its innings, and a long innings, too. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>134.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To what Extent we must Beware of Pity.</hi>—Pity, +in so far as it actually gives rise to suffering—and +this must be our only point of view here—is a +weakness, like every other indulgence in an injurious +emotion. It increases suffering throughout the +world, and although here and there a certain amount +of suffering may be indirectly diminished or removed +altogether as a consequence of pity, we must not +bring forward these occasional consequences, which +are on the whole insignificant, to justify the nature +of pity which, as has already been stated, is prejudicial. +Supposing that it prevailed, even if only +for one day, it would bring humanity to utter +ruin. In itself the nature of pity is no better than +<pb n='145'/><anchor id='Pg145'/> +that of any other craving; it is only where it is +called for and praised—and this happens when +people do not understand what is injurious in it, but +find in it a sort of joy—that a good conscience becomes +attached to it; it is only then that we willingly +yield to it, and do not shrink from acknowledging +it. In other circumstances where it is understood +to be dangerous, it is looked upon as a weakness; +or, as in the case of the Greeks, as an unhealthy +periodical emotion the danger of which might be +removed by temporary and voluntary discharges. +If a man were to undertake the experiment of deliberately +devoting his attention to the opportunities +afforded by practical life for the exercise of pity, +and were over and over again to picture in his own +mind the misery he might meet with in his immediate +surroundings, he would inevitably become +melancholy and ill. If, however, he wished in any +sense of the word to serve humanity as a physician, +he would have to take many precautions with respect +to this feeling, as otherwise it would paralyse him +at all critical moments, undermine the foundations +of his knowledge, and unnerve his helpful and +delicate hand. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>135.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Arousing Pity.</hi>—Among savages men think +with a moral shudder of the possibility of becoming +an object of pity, for such a state they regard as +deprived of all virtue. Pitying is equivalent to despising: +they do not want to see a contemptible +being suffer, for this would afford them no enjoyment. +<pb n='146'/><anchor id='Pg146'/> +On the other hand, to behold one of their +enemies suffering, some one whom they look upon +as their equal in pride, but whom torture cannot +induce to give up his pride, and in general to see +some one suffer who refuses to lower himself by +appealing for pity—which would in their eyes be +the most profound and shameful humiliation—this +is the very joy of joys. Such a spectacle excites +the deepest admiration in the soul of the savage, +and he ends by killing such a brave man when it +is in his power, afterwards according funeral +honours to the unbending one. If he had groaned, +however; if his countenance had lost its expression +of calm disdain; if he had shown himself to be contemptible,—well, +in such a case he might have +been allowed to live like a dog: he would no longer +have aroused the pride of the spectator, and pity +would have taken the place of admiration. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>136.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Happiness in Pity.</hi>—If, as is the case among +the Hindus, we decree the end and aim of all intellectual +activity to be the knowledge of human +misery, and if for generation after generation this +dreadful resolution be steadily adhered to, pity in +the eyes of such men of hereditary pessimism comes +to have a new value as a preserver of life, something +that helps to make existence endurable, although +it may seem worthy of being rejected with horror +and disgust. Pity becomes an antidote to suicide, +a sentiment which brings pleasure with it and enables +us to taste superiority in small doses. It +<pb n='147'/><anchor id='Pg147'/> +gives some diversion to our minds, makes our hearts +full, banishes fear and lethargy, and incites us to +speak, to complain, or to act: it is a relative happiness +when compared with the misery of the +knowledge that hampers the individual on every +side, bewilders him, and takes away his breath. +Happiness, however, no matter of what nature it +may be, gives us air and light and freedom of +movement. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>137.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Why Double the <q>Ego</q>?</hi>—To view our own +experiences in the same light as we are in the habit +of looking at those of others is very comforting +and an advisable medicine. On the other hand, to +look upon the experiences of others and adopt +them as if they were our own—which is called for +by the philosophy of pity—would ruin us in a very +short time: let us only make the experiment without +trying to imagine it any longer! The first maxim +is, in addition, undoubtedly more in accordance with +reason and goodwill towards reason; for we estimate +more objectively the value and significance +of an event when it happens to others,—the value, +for instance, of a death, loss of money or slander. +But pity, taking as its principle of action the injunction, +<q>Suffer the misfortune of another as much +as he himself,</q> would lead the point of view of the +ego with all its exaggerations and deviations to +become the point of view of the other person, the +sympathiser: so that we should have to suffer at +the same time from our own ego and the other's +ego. In this way we would voluntarily overload +<pb n='148'/><anchor id='Pg148'/> +ourselves with a double irrationality, instead of +making the burden of our own as light as possible. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>138.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Becoming more Tender.</hi>—Whenever we love +some one and venerate and admire him, and afterwards +come to perceive that he is suffering—which +always causes us the utmost astonishment, since +we cannot but feel that the happiness we derive +from him must flow from a superabundant source +of personal happiness—our feelings of love, veneration, +and admiration are essentially changed: +they become more tender; that is, the gap that +separates us seems to be bridged over and there +appears to be an approach to equality. It now +seems possible to give him something in return, +whilst we had previously imagined him as being +altogether above our gratitude. Our ability to +requite him for what we have received from him +arouses in us feelings of much joy and pleasure. +We endeavour to ascertain what can best calm the +grief of our friend, and we give it to him; if he +wishes for kind words, looks, attentions, services, or +presents, we give them; but, above all, if he would +like to see us suffering from the sight of his suffering, +we pretend to suffer, for all this secures for us +the enjoyment of active gratitude, which is equivalent +in a way to good-natured revenge. If he wants +none of these things, and refuses to accept them +from us, we depart from him chilled and sad, almost +mortified; it appears to us as if our gratitude had +been declined, and on this point of honour even the +<pb n='149'/><anchor id='Pg149'/> +best of men is still somewhat touchy. It results +from all this that even in the best case there is something +humiliating in suffering, and something elevating +and superior in sympathy,—a fact which +will keep the two feelings apart for ever and ever. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>139.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Higher in Name only.</hi>—You say that the +morality of pity is a higher morality than that of +stoicism? Prove it! But take care not to measure +the <q>higher</q> and <q>lower</q> degrees of morality once +more by moral yardsticks; for there are no absolute +morals. So take your yardstick from somewhere +else, and be on your guard! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>140.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Praise and Blame.</hi>—When a war has come to +an unsuccessful conclusion we try to find the man +who is to blame for the war; when it comes to a +successful conclusion we praise the man who is responsible +for it. In all unsuccessful cases attempts +are made to blame somebody, for non-success gives +rise to dejection, against which the single possible +remedy is involuntarily applied; a new incitement +of the sense of power; and this incitement is found +in the condemnation of the <q>guilty</q> one. This +guilty one is not perhaps the scapegoat of the faults +of others; he is merely the victim of the feeble, +humiliated, and depressed people who wish to prove +upon some one that they have not yet lost all their +power. Even self-condemnation after a defeat may +be the means of restoring the feeling of power. +</p> + +<pb n='150'/><anchor id='Pg150'/> + +<p> +On the other hand, glorification of the originator +is often but an equally blind result of another instinct +that demands its victim,—and in this case the +sacrifice appears to be sweet and attractive even for +the victim. This happens when the feeling of power +is satiated in a nation or a society by so great and +fascinating a success that a weariness of victory +supervenes and pride wishes to be discharged: a +feeling of self-sacrifice is aroused and looks for its +object. Thus, whether we are blamed or praised +we merely, as a rule, provide opportunities for the +gratification of others, and are only too often caught +up and whirled away for our neighbours to discharge +upon us their accumulated feelings of praise or +blame. In both cases we confer a benefit upon +them for which we deserve no credit and they no +thanks. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>141.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>More Beautiful but Less Valuable.</hi>—Picturesque +morality: such is the morality of those +passions characterised by sudden outbursts, abrupt +transitions; pathetic, impressive, dreadful, and +solemn attitudes and gestures. It is the semi-savage +stage of morality: never let us be tempted to set it +on a higher plane merely on account of its æsthetic +charms. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>142.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Sympathy.</hi>—In order to understand our neighbour, +that is, in order to reproduce his sentiments in +ourselves, we often, no doubt, plumb the cause of his +feelings, as, for example, by asking ourselves, Why +<pb n='151'/><anchor id='Pg151'/> +is he sad? in order that we may become sad ourselves +for the same reason. But we much more +frequently neglect to act thus, and we produce these +feelings in ourselves in accordance with the <emph>effects</emph> +which they exhibit in the person we are studying,—by +imitating in our own body the expression of +his eyes, his voice, his gait, his attitude (or, at any +rate, the likeness of these things in words, pictures, +and music), or we may at least endeavour to mimic +the action of his muscles and nervous system. A +like feeling will then spring up in us as the result +of an old association of movements and sentiments +which has been trained to run backwards and forwards. +We have developed to a very high pitch this +knack of sounding the feelings of others, and when +we are in the presence of any one else we bring this +faculty of ours into play almost involuntarily,—let +the inquirer observe the animation of a woman's +countenance and notice how it vibrates and quivers +with animation as the result of the continual imitation +and reflection of what is going on around her. +</p> + +<p> +It is music, however, more than anything else +that shows us what past-masters we are in the rapid +and subtle divination of feelings and sympathy; +for even if music is only the imitation of an imitation +of feelings, nevertheless, despite its distance +and vagueness, it often enables us to participate in +those feelings, so that we become sad without any +reason for feeling so, like the fools that we are, +merely because we hear certain sounds and rhythms +that somehow or other remind us of the intonation +and the movements, or perhaps even only of the +behaviour, of sorrowful people. It is related of a +<pb n='152'/><anchor id='Pg152'/> +certain Danish king that he was wrought up to such +a pitch of warlike enthusiasm by the song of a +minstrel that he sprang to his feet and killed five +persons of his assembled court: there was neither +war nor enemy; there was rather the exact opposite; +yet the power of the retrospective inference from a +feeling to the cause of it was sufficiently strong in +this king to overpower both his observation and his +reason. Such, however, is almost invariably the effect +of music (provided that it thrills us), and we have no +need of such paradoxical instances to recognise this,—the +state of feeling into which music transports +us is almost always in contradiction to the appearance +of our actual state, and of our reasoning power +which recognises this actual state and its causes. +</p> + +<p> +If we inquire how it happened that this imitation +of the feelings of others has become so common, +there will be no doubt as to the answer: man being +the most timid of all beings because of his subtle +and delicate nature has been made familiar through +his timidity with this sympathy for, and rapid comprehension +of, the feelings of others, even of animals. +For century after century he saw danger in everything +that was unfamiliar to him, in anything that +happened to be alive, and whenever the spectacle +of such things and creatures came before his eyes +he imitated their features and attitude, drawing at +the same time his own conclusion as to the nature +of the evil intentions they concealed. This interpretation +of all movements and all facial characteristics +in the sense of intentions, man has even brought to +bear on things inanimate,—urged on as he was by +the illusion that there was nothing inanimate. I +<pb n='153'/><anchor id='Pg153'/> +believe that this is the origin of everything that we +now call a feeling for nature, that sensation of joy +which men experience at the sight of the sky, the +fields, the rocks, the forests, the storms, the stars, +the landscapes, and spring: without our old habits +of fear which forced us to suspect behind everything +a kind of second and more recondite sense, we should +now experience no delight in nature, in the same +way as men and animals do not cause us to rejoice +if we have not first been deterred by that source of +all understanding, namely, fear. For joy and agreeable +surprise, and finally the feeling of ridicule, are +the younger children of sympathy, and the much +younger brothers and sisters of fear. The faculty +of rapid perception, which is based on the faculty of +rapid dissimulation, decreases in proud and autocratic +men and nations, as they are less timid; but, +on the other hand, every category of understanding +and dissimulation is well known to timid peoples, +and among them is to be found the real home of +imitative arts and superior intelligence. +</p> + +<p> +When, proceeding from the theory of sympathy +such as I have just outlined, I turn my attention to +the theory, now so popular and almost sacrosanct, +of a mystical process by means of which pity blends +two beings into one, and thus permits them immediately +to understand one another, when I recollect +that even so clear a brain as Schopenhauer's delighted +in such fantastic nonsense, and that he in +his turn transplanted this delight into other lucid +and semi-lucid brains, I feel unlimited astonishment +and compassion. How great must be the pleasure +we experience in this senseless tomfoolery! How +<pb n='154'/><anchor id='Pg154'/> +near must even a sane man be to insanity as soon +as he listens to his own secret intellectual desires!—Why +did Schopenhauer really feel so grateful, so +profoundly indebted to Kant? He revealed on one +occasion the undoubted answer to this question. +Some one had spoken of the way in which the +<foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>qualitias occulta</foreign> of Kant's Categorical Imperative +might be got rid of, so that the theory itself might be +rendered intelligible. Whereupon Schopenhauer +gave utterance to the following outburst: <q>An intelligible +Categorical Imperative! Preposterous idea! +Stygian darkness! God forbid that it should ever +become intelligible! The fact that there is actually +something unintelligible, that this misery of the +understanding and its conceptions is limited, conditional, +final, and deceptive,—this is beyond question +Kant's great gift.</q> Let any one consider whether +a man can be in possession of a desire to gain an +insight into moral things when he feels himself +comforted from the start by a belief in the inconceivableness +of these things! one who still honestly +believes in illuminations from above, in magic, in +ghostly appearances, and in the metaphysical ugliness +of the toad! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>143.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Woe to us if this Impulse should Rage!</hi>—Supposing +that the impulse towards devotion +and care for others (<q>sympathetic affection</q>) were +doubly as strong as it now is, life on earth could +not be endured. Let it only be considered how +many foolish things every one of us does day by +day and hour by hour, merely out of solicitude and +<pb n='155'/><anchor id='Pg155'/> +devotion for himself, and how unbearable he seems +in doing so: and what then would it be like if we +were to become for other people the object of +the stupidities and importunities with which up to +the present they have only tormented themselves! +Should we not then take precipitately to our heels +as soon as one of our neighbours came towards us? +And would it not be necessary to overwhelm this +sympathetic affection with the abuse that we now +reserve for egoism? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>144.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Closing our Ears to the Complaints of +others.</hi>—When we let our sky be clouded by the +complaints and suffering of other mortals, who +must bear the consequences of such gloom? No +doubt those other mortals, in addition to all their +other burdens! If we are merely to be the echoes +of their complaints, we cannot accord them either +help or comfort; nor can we do so if we were +continually keeping our ears open to listen to them,—unless +we have learnt the art of the Olympians, +who, instead of trying to make themselves unhappy, +endeavoured to feel edified by the misfortunes of +mankind. But this is something too Olympian for +us, although, in our enjoyment of tragedy, we have +already taken a step towards this ideal divine cannibalism. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>145.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><q>Unegoistic.</q></hi>—This man is empty and wishes +to be filled, that one is over-full and wishes to be +emptied: both of them feel themselves urged on +<pb n='156'/><anchor id='Pg156'/> +to look for an individual who can help them. And +this phenomenon, interpreted in a higher sense, is +in both cases known by the same name, <q>love.</q> +Well? and could this love be something unegoistic? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>146.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Looking Beyond our Neighbour.</hi>—What? +Ought the nature of true morality to consist for us +in fixing our eyes upon the most direct and immediate +consequences of our action for other people, +and in our coming to a decision accordingly? This +is only a narrow and bourgeois morality, even +though it may be a morality: but it seems to me +that it would be more superior and liberal to look +beyond these immediate consequences for our +neighbour in order to encourage more distant +purposes, even at the risk of making others suffer,—as, +for example, by encouraging the spirit of +knowledge in spite of the certainty that our free-thought +will have the instant effect of plunging +others into doubt, grief, and even worse afflictions. +Have we not at least the right to treat our neighbour +as we treat ourselves? And if, where we are concerned, +we do not think in such a narrow and bourgeois +fashion of immediate consequences and sufferings, +why should we be compelled to act thus in +regard to our neighbour? Supposing that we felt +ready to sacrifice ourselves, what is there to prevent +us from sacrificing our neighbour together with ourselves,—just +as States and Sovereigns have hitherto +sacrificed one citizen to the others, <q>for the sake of +the general interest,</q> as they say? +</p> + +<pb n='157'/><anchor id='Pg157'/> + +<p> +We too, however, have general interests, perhaps +even more general than theirs: so why may we not +sacrifice a few individuals of this generation for +the benefit of generations to come? so that their +affliction, anxiety, despair, blunders, and misery +may be deemed essential because a new plough is +to break up the ground and render it fertile for all. +Finally, we communicate the disposition to our +neighbour by which he is enabled to feel himself a +victim: we persuade him to carry out the task for +which we employ him. Are we then devoid of all +pity? If, however, we wish to achieve a victory +over ourselves beyond our pity, is not this a higher +and more liberal attitude and disposition than that +in which we only feel safe after having ascertained +whether an action benefits or harms our neighbour? +On the contrary, it is by means of such sacrifice—including +the sacrifice of ourselves, as well as of our +neighbours—that we should strengthen and elevate +the general sense of human power, even supposing +that we attain nothing more than this. But even +this itself would be a positive increase of happiness. +Then, if even this ... but not a word more! You +have understood me at a glance. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>147.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Cause of <q>Altruism.</q></hi>—Men have on +the whole spoken of love with so much emphasis +and adoration because they have hitherto always +had so little of it, and have never yet been satiated +with this food: in this way it became their ambrosia. +If a poet wished to show universal benevolence in +the image of a Utopia, he would certainly have to +<pb n='158'/><anchor id='Pg158'/> +describe an agonising and ridiculous state of things, +the like of which was never seen on earth,—every +one would be surrounded, importuned, and sighed +for, not as at present, by one lover, but by thousands, +by everybody indeed, as the result of an irresistible +craving which would then be as vehemently insulted +and cursed as selfishness has been by men of past +ages. The poets of this new condition of things, +if they had sufficient leisure to write, would be +dreaming of nothing but the blissful and loveless +past, the divine selfishness of yore, and the wonderful +possibilities in former times of remaining alone, +not being run after by one's friends, and of even +being hated and despised—or any other odious expressions +which the beautiful animal world in which +we live chooses to coin. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>148.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Looking Far Ahead.</hi>—If, in accordance with +the present definition, only those actions are moral +which are done for the sake of others, and for their +sake only, then there are no moral actions at all! +If, in accordance with another definition, only those +actions are moral which spring from our own free +will, then there are no moral actions in this case +either! What is it, then, that we designate thus, +which certainly exists and wishes as a consequence +to be explained? It is the result of a few intellectual +blunders; and supposing that we were able to free +ourselves from these errors, what would then become +of <q>moral actions</q>? It is due to these errors that +we have up to the present attributed to certain +actions a value superior to what was theirs in reality: +<pb n='159'/><anchor id='Pg159'/> +we separated them from <q>egoistic</q> and <q>non-free</q> +actions. When we now set them once more in the +latter categories, as we must do, we certainly reduce +their value (their own estimate of value) even below +its reasonable level, because <q>egoistic</q> and <q>non-free</q> +actions have up to the present been under-valued +owing to that alleged profound and essential +difference. +</p> + +<p> +In future, then, will these very actions be less +frequently performed, since they will be less highly +esteemed? Inevitably! Or at all events for a +fairly long time, as long as the scale of valuations +remains under the reacting influence of former mistakes! +But we make some return for this by giving +back to men their good courage for the carrying out +of actions that are now reputed to be selfish, and +thus restore their value,—we relieve men's bad consciences! +and as up to the present egoistic actions +have been by far the most frequent, and will be +so to all eternity, we free the whole conception of +these actions and of life from its evil appearance! +This is a very high and important result. When +men no longer believe themselves to be evil, they +cease to be so. +</p> + +</div> + +</div> + +<pb n='161'/><anchor id='Pg161'/> + +<div rend='page-break-before: always'> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Book III.</head> + +<div> +<head>149.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Little Unconventional Actions are +Necessary!</hi>—To act occasionally in matters of +custom against our own better judgments; to yield +in practice while reserving our own intellectual +liberty; to behave like everybody else and thus to +show ourselves amiable and considerate to all, to +compensate them, as it were, even if only to some +extent, for our unconventional opinions—all this +among many tolerably liberal-minded men is looked +upon not only as permissible but even as <q>honourable,</q> +<q>humane,</q> <q>tolerant,</q> and <q>unpedantic,</q> or +whatever fine words may be used to lull to sleep +the intellectual conscience. So, for example, one +man, although he may be an atheist, has his infant +baptized in the usual Christian fashion; another +goes through his period of military service, though +he may severely condemn all hatred between nations; +and a third runs into the Church with a girl +because she comes from a religious family, and +makes his vows to a priest without feeling ashamed +of it. <q>It is of no importance if one of us does +what every one else does and has done</q>—so says +ignorant prejudice! What a profound mistake! +<pb n='162'/><anchor id='Pg162'/> +For nothing is of greater importance than that a +powerful, long-established, and irrational custom +should be once again confirmed by the act of some +one who is recognised as rational. In this way the +proceeding is thought to be sanctioned by reason +itself! All honour to your opinions! but little +unconventional actions are of still greater value. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>150.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Hazard of Marriages.</hi>—If I were a god, +and a benevolent god, the marriages of men would +cause me more displeasure than anything else. An +individual can make very great progress within the +seventy years of his life—yea, even within thirty +years: such progress, indeed, as to surprise even +the gods! But when we then see him exposing the +inheritance and legacy of his struggles and victories, +the laurel crown of his humanity, on the first convenient +peg where any female may pick it to pieces +for him; when we observe how well he can acquire +and how little he is capable of preserving his acquisitions, +and how he does not even dream that by procreation +he might prepare a still more victorious life,—we +then, indeed, become impatient and say, <q>Nothing +can in the end result from humanity, individuals +are wasted, for all rationality of a great +advance of humanity is rendered impossible by the +hazard of marriages: let us cease from being the +assiduous spectators and fools of this aimless +drama!</q> It was in this mood that the gods of +Epicurus withdrew long ago to their divine seclusion +and felicity: they were tired of men and their love +affairs. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='163'/><anchor id='Pg163'/> + +<div> +<head>151.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Here are New Ideals to Invent.</hi>—At a time +when a man is in love he should not be allowed to +come to a decision about his life and to determine +once and for all the character of his society on account +of a whim. We ought publicly to declare +invalid the vows of lovers, and to refuse them permission +to marry: and this because we should treat +marriage itself much more seriously, so that in cases +where it is now contracted it would not usually be +allowed in future! Are not the majority of marriages +such that we should not care to have them witnessed +by a third party? And yet this third party +is scarcely ever lacking—the child—and he is more +than a witness; he is the whipping-boy and scapegoat. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>152.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Formula of Oath.</hi>—<q>If I am now telling a lie +I am no longer an honourable man, and every one +may say so to my face.</q> I recommend this formula +in place of the present judicial oath and its +customary invocation to the Deity: it is stronger. +There is no reason why even religious men should +oppose it; for as soon as the customary oath no +longer serves, all the religious people will have to +turn to their catechism, which says, <q>Thou shalt +not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>153.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Malcontent.</hi>—He is one of the brave old +warriors: angry with civilisation because he believes +<pb n='164'/><anchor id='Pg164'/> +that its object is to make all good things—honour, +rewards, and fair women—accessible even to +cowards. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>154.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Consolation amid Perils.</hi>—The Greeks, in +the course of a life that was always surrounded by +great dangers and cataclysms, endeavoured to find +in meditation and knowledge a kind of security of +feeling, a last <foreign rend='italic'>refugium</foreign>. We, who live in a much +more secure state, have introduced danger into +meditation and knowledge, and it is in life itself +that we endeavour to find repose, a refuge from +danger. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>155.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Extinct Scepticism.</hi>—Hazardous enterprises +are rarer in modern times than in antiquity and in +the Middle Ages, probably because modern times +have no more belief in omens, oracles, stars, and +soothsayers. In other words, we have become incapable +of believing in a future which is reserved +for us, as the ancients did, who—in contradistinction +to ourselves—were much less sceptical regarding +that which is to be than that which is. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>156.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Evil through Exuberance.</hi>—<q>Oh, that we +should not feel too happy!</q>—such was the secret +fear of the Greeks in their best age. <emph>That</emph> is why +they preached moderation to themselves. And we? +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='165'/><anchor id='Pg165'/> + +<div> +<head>157.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Worship of Natural Sounds.</hi>—What +signification can we find in the fact that our culture +is not only indulgent to the manifestations of grief, +such as tears, complaints, reproaches, and attitudes +of rage and humility, but even approves them and +reckons them among the most noble and essential +things?—while, on the other hand, the spirit of +ancient philosophy looked down upon them with +contempt, without admitting their necessity in any +way. Let us remember how Plato—who was by +no means one of the most inhuman of the philosophers—speaks +of the Philoctetus of the tragic +stage. Is it possible that our modern culture is +wanting in <q>philosophy</q>? or, in accordance with +the valuations of those old philosophers, do we perhaps +all form part of the <q>mob</q>? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>158.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Climate for Flattery.</hi>—In our day +flatterers should no longer be sought at the courts +of kings, since these have all acquired a taste for +militarism, which cannot tolerate flattery. But this +flower even now often grows in abundance in the +neighbourhood of bankers and artists. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>159.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Revivers.</hi>—Vain men value a fragment +of the past more highly from the moment when +they are able to revive it in their imagination +(especially if it is difficult to do so), they would +<pb n='166'/><anchor id='Pg166'/> +even like if possible to raise it from the dead. Since, +however, the number of vain people is always very +large, the danger presented by historical studies, if +an entire epoch devotes its attention to them, is by +no means small: too great an amount of strength +is then wasted on all sorts of imaginable resurrections. +The entire movement of romanticism is +perhaps best understood from this point of view. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>160.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Vain, Greedy, and not very Wise.</hi>—Your +desires are greater than your understanding, and +your vanity is even greater than your desires,—to +people of your type a great deal of Christian practice +and a little Schopenhauerian theory may be +strongly recommended. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>161.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Beauty corresponding to the Age.</hi>—If our +sculptors, painters, and musicians wish to catch the +significance of the age, they should represent beauty +as bloated, gigantic, and nervous: just as the +Greeks, under the influence of their morality of +moderation, saw and represented beauty in the +Apollo di Belvedere. We should, indeed, call him +ugly! But the pedantic <q>classicists</q> have deprived +us of all our honesty! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>162.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Irony of the Present Time.</hi>—At the +present day it is the habit of Europeans to treat all +matters of great importance with irony, because, as +<pb n='167'/><anchor id='Pg167'/> +the result of our activity in their service, we have no +time to take them seriously. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>163.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Against Rousseau.</hi>—If it is true that there is +something contemptible about our civilisation, we +have two alternatives: of concluding with Rousseau +that, <q>This despicable civilisation is to blame for +our bad morality,</q> or to infer, contrary to Rousseau's +view, that <q>Our good morality is to blame for this +contemptible civilisation. Our social conceptions +of good and evil, weak and effeminate as they are, +and their enormous influence over both body and +soul, have had the effect of weakening all bodies +and souls and of crushing all unprejudiced, independent, +and self-reliant men, the real pillars of a +strong civilisation: wherever we still find the evil +morality to-day, we see the last crumbling ruins of +these pillars.</q> Thus let paradox be opposed by +paradox! It is quite impossible for the truth to +lie with both sides: and can we say, indeed, that it +lies with either? Decide for yourself. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>164.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Perhaps Premature.</hi>—It would seem at the +present time that, under many different and misleading +names, and often with a great want of +clearness, those who do not feel themselves attached +to morals and to established laws are taking the +first initial steps to organise themselves, and thus +to create a right for themselves; whilst hitherto, +<pb n='168'/><anchor id='Pg168'/> +as criminals, free-thinkers, immoral men and miscreants, +they have lived beyond the pale of the law, +under the bane of outlawry and bad conscience, +corrupted and corrupting. On the whole, we should +consider this as right and proper, although it +may result in insecurity for the coming century +and compel every one to bear arms.—There is +thereby a counterforce which continually reminds +us that there is no exclusively moral-making +morality, and that a morality which asserts itself +to the exclusion of all other morality destroys too +much sound strength and is too dearly bought by +mankind. The non-conventional and deviating +people, who are so often productive and inventive, +must no longer be sacrificed: it must never again +be considered as a disgrace to depart from morality +either in actions or thought; many new experiments +must be made upon life and society, and the world +must be relieved from a huge weight of bad conscience. +These general aims must be recognised +and encouraged by all those upright people who +are seeking truth. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>165.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Morality which does not bore one.</hi>—The +principal moral commandments which a nation +permits its teachers to emphasise again and again +stand in relation to its chief defects, and that is why +it does not find them tiresome. The Greeks, who +so often failed to employ moderation, coolness, fair-mindedness, +and rationality in general, turned a +willing ear to the four Socratic virtues,—they stood +<pb n='169'/><anchor id='Pg169'/> +in such need of them, and yet had so little talent +for them! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>166.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>At the Parting of the Ways.</hi>—Shame! +You wish to form part of a system in which you +must be a wheel, fully and completely, or risk +being crushed by wheels! where it is understood +that each one will be that which his superiors make +of him! where the seeking for <q>connections</q> will +form part of one's natural duties! where no one +feels himself offended when he has his attention +drawn to some one with the remark, <q>He may be +useful to you some time</q>; where people do not feel +ashamed of paying a visit to ask for somebody's intercession, +and where they do not even suspect that +by such a voluntary submission to these morals, +they are once and for all stamped as the common +pottery of nature, which others can employ or break +up of their free will without feeling in any way +responsible for doing so,—just as if one were to +say, <q>People of my type will never be lacking, +therefore, do what you will with me! Do not +stand on ceremony!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>167.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Unconditional Homage.</hi>—When I think of +the most read German philosopher, the most +popular German musician, and the most distinguished +German statesman, I cannot but acknowledge +that life is now rendered unusually arduous +for these Germans, this nation of unconditional +<pb n='170'/><anchor id='Pg170'/> +sentiments, and that, too, by their own great men. +We see three magnificent spectacles spread out before +us: on each occasion there is a river rushing +along in the bed which it has made for itself, and +even so agitated that one thinks at times it intends +to flow uphill. And yet, however we might admire +Schopenhauer, who would not, all things considered, +like to have other opinions than his? Who +in all greater and smaller things would now share the +opinions of Richard Wagner, although there may +be truth in the view expressed by some one: viz. +that wherever Wagner gave or took offence some +problem lay hidden,—which, however, he did not +unearth for us. And, finally, how many are there +who would be willing and eager to agree with Bismarck, +if only he could always agree with himself, +or were even to show some signs of doing so for the +future! It is true that it is by no means astonishing +to find statesmen without principles, but with dominant +instincts; a versatile mind, actuated by these +dominant and violent instincts, and hence without +principles—these qualities are looked upon as +reasonable and natural in a statesman. But, alas, +this has up to the present been so un-German; as +un-German as the fuss made about music and the +discord and bad temper excited around the person +of the musician; or as un-German as the new and +extraordinary position taken up by Schopenhauer: +he did not feel himself to be either above things or +on his knees before them—one or other of these +alternatives might still have been German—but +he assumed an attitude against things! How +incredible and disagreeable! to range one's self +<pb n='171'/><anchor id='Pg171'/> +with things and nevertheless be their adversary, +and finally the adversary of one's self,—what can +the unconditional admirer do with such an example? +And what, again, can he do with three +such examples who cannot keep the peace towards +one another! Here we see Schopenhauer as the +antagonist of Wagner's music, Wagner attacking +Bismarck's politics, and Bismarck attacking Wagnerism +and Schopenhauerism. What remains for +us to do? Where shall we flee with our thirst for +wholesale hero-worship! Would it not be possible +to choose from the music of the musician a few +hundred bars of good music which appealed to the +heart, and which we should like to take to heart because +they are inspired by the heart,—could we not +stand aside with this small piece of plunder, and +forget the rest? And could we not make a similar +compromise as regards the philosopher and the +statesman,—select, take to heart, and in particular +forget the rest? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, if only forgetfulness were not so difficult! +There was once a very proud man who would +never on any account accept anything, good or +evil, from others,—from any one, indeed, but himself. +When he wanted to forget, however, he could +not bestow this gift upon himself, and was three +times compelled to conjure up the spirits. They +came, listened to his desire, and said at last, <q>This +is the only thing it is not in our power to give!</q> +Could not the Germans take warning by this +experience of Manfred? Why, then, should the +spirits be conjured up? It is useless. We never +forget what we endeavour to forget. And how +<pb n='172'/><anchor id='Pg172'/> +great would be the <q>balance</q> which we should +have to forget if we wished henceforth to continue +wholesale admirers of these three great men! It +would therefore be far more advisable to profit by +the excellent opportunity offered us to try something +new, <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> to advance in the spirit of honesty +towards ourselves and become, instead of a nation +of credulous repetition and of bitter and blind animosity, +a people of conditional assent and benevolent +opposition. We must come to learn in +the first place, however, that unconditional homage +to people is something rather ridiculous, that a +change of view on this point would not discredit +even Germans, and that there is a profound and +memorable saying: <q>Ce qui importe, ce ne sont +point les personnes: mais les choses.</q> This saying +is like the man who uttered it—great, honest, +simple, and silent,—just like Carnot, the soldier +and Republican. But may I at the present time +speak thus to Germans of a Frenchman, and a +Republican into the bargain? Perhaps not: perhaps +I must not even recall what Niebuhr in his +time dared to say to the Germans: that no one +had made such an impression of true greatness +upon him as Carnot. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>168.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Model.</hi>—What do I like about Thucydides, +and how does it come that I esteem him more +highly than Plato? He exhibits the most wide-spread +and artless pleasure in everything typical +in men and events, and finds that each type is +<pb n='173'/><anchor id='Pg173'/> +possessed of a certain quantity of good sense: it +is this good sense which he seeks to discover. He +likewise exhibits a larger amount of practical justice +than Plato; he never reviles or belittles those men +whom he dislikes or who have in any way injured +him in the course of his life. On the contrary: +while seeing only types, he introduces something +noble and additional into all things and persons; +for what could posterity, to which he dedicates his +work, do with things not typical! Thus this culture +of the disinterested knowledge of the world +attains in him, the poet-thinker, a final marvellous +bloom,—this culture which has its poet in Sophocles, +its statesman in Pericles, its doctor in Hippocrates, +and its natural philosopher in Democritus: +this culture which deserves to be called by the name +of its teachers, the Sophists, and which, unhappily, +from the moment of its baptism at once begins to +grow pale and incomprehensible to us,—for henceforward +we suspect that this culture, which was +combated by Plato and all the Socratic schools, +must have been very immoral! The truth of this +matter is so complicated and entangled that we +feel unwilling to unravel it: so let the old error +(<foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>error veritate simplicior</foreign>) run its old course. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>169.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Greek Genius Foreign to us.</hi>—Oriental +or modern, Asiatic or European: compared with +the ancient Greeks, everything is characterised by +enormity of size and by the revelling in great +masses as the expression of the sublime, whilst in +<pb n='174'/><anchor id='Pg174'/> +Paestum, Pompeii, and Athens we are astonished, +when contemplating Greek architecture, to see with +what small masses the Greeks were able to express +the sublime, and how they loved to express it thus. +In the same way, how simple were the Greeks in +the idea which they formed of themselves! How +far we surpass them in the knowledge of man! +Again, how full of labyrinths would our souls and +our conceptions of our souls appear in comparison +with theirs! If we had to venture upon an architecture +after the style of our own souls—(we are +too cowardly for that!)—a labyrinth would have +to be our model. That music which is peculiar +to us, and which really expresses us, lets this be +clearly seen! (for in music men let themselves go, +because they think there is no one who can see +them hiding behind their music). +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>170.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Another Point of View.</hi>—How we babble +about the Greeks! What do we understand of +their art, the soul of which was the passion for +naked masculine beauty! It was only by starting +therefrom that they appreciated feminine beauty. +For the latter they had thus a perspective quite +different from ours. It was the same in regard to +their love for women: their worship was of a +different kind, and so also was their contempt. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>171.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Food of the Modern Man.</hi>—He has +learned to digest many things; nay, almost everything; +<pb n='175'/><anchor id='Pg175'/> +it is his ambition to do so. He would, however, +be really of a higher order if he did not understand +this so well: <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>homo pamphagus</foreign> is not the finest +type of the human race. We live between a past +which had a more wayward and deranged taste +than we, and a future which will possibly have a +more select taste,—we live too much midway. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>172.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tragedy and Music.</hi>—Men of essentially +warlike disposition, such, for example, as the +ancient Greeks in the time of Æschylus, are +difficult to rouse, and when pity once triumphs +over their hardness they are seized as by a kind +of giddiness or a <q>demoniacal power,</q>—they feel +themselves overpowered and thrilled by a religious +horror. After this they become sceptical about +their condition; but as long as they are in it they +enjoy the charm of being, as it were, outside themselves, +and the delight of the marvellous mixed with +the bitterest gall of suffering: this is the proper +kind of drink for fighting men,—something rare, +dangerous, and bitter-sweet, which does not often +fall to one's lot. +</p> + +<p> +Tragedy appeals to souls who feel pity in this +way, to those fierce and warlike souls which are +difficult to overcome, whether by fear or pity, but +which lose nothing by being softened from time to +time. Of what use, however, is tragedy to those +who are as open to the <q>sympathetic affections</q> +as the sails of a ship to the wind! When at the +time of Plato the Athenians had become more +<pb n='176'/><anchor id='Pg176'/> +softened and sensitive, oh, how far they were still +removed from the gushing emotions of the inhabitants +of our modern towns and villages! And yet +even then the philosophers were beginning to complain +of the injurious nature of tragedy. An epoch +full of danger such as that now beginning, in which +bravery and manliness are rising in value, will +perhaps again harden souls to such an extent that +they will once more stand in need of tragic poets: +but in the meantime these are somewhat superfluous, +to put it mildly. For music, too, a better +age may be approaching (it will certainly be a more +evil age!) when artists will have to make their +music appeal to strongly individual beings, beings +which will have become hard and which will be +dominated by the gloomy earnestness of their own +passion; but of what use is music to the little souls +of the present age which is fast passing away, souls +that are too unsteady, ill-developed, half-personal, +inquisitive, and covetous of everything? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>173.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Flatterers of Work.</hi>—In the glorification +of <q>work</q> and the never-ceasing talk about the +<q>blessing of labour,</q> I see the same secret <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>arrière-pensée</foreign> +as I do in the praise bestowed on impersonal +acts of a general interest, viz. a fear of everything +individual. For at the sight of work—that is to +say, severe toil from morning till night—we have +the feeling that it is the best police, viz. that it +holds every one in check and effectively hinders the +development of reason, of greed, and of desire for +<pb n='177'/><anchor id='Pg177'/> +independence. For work uses up an extraordinary +proportion of nervous force, withdrawing it from +reflection, meditation, dreams, cares, love, and +hatred; it dangles unimportant aims before the +eyes of the worker and affords easy and regular +gratification. Thus it happens that a society +where work is continually being performed will +enjoy greater security, and it is security which is +now venerated as the supreme deity.—And now, +horror of horrors! it is the <q>workman</q> himself +who has become dangerous; the whole world is +swarming with <q>dangerous individuals,</q> and behind +them follows the danger of dangers—<emph>the</emph> individuum! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>174.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Moral Fashion of a Commercial +Community.</hi>—Behind the principle of the present +moral fashion: <q>Moral actions are actions performed +out of sympathy for others,</q> I see the social +instinct of fear, which thus assumes an intellectual +disguise: this instinct sets forth as its supreme, +most important, and most immediate principle that +life shall be relieved of all the dangerous characteristics +which it possessed in former times, and that +every one must help with all his strength towards +the attainment of this end. It is for that reason +that only those actions which keep in view the +general security and the feeling of security of society +are called <q>good.</q> How little joy must men now +have in themselves when such a tyranny of fear +prescribes their supreme moral law, if they make +no objection when commanded to turn their eyes +<pb n='178'/><anchor id='Pg178'/> +from themselves and to look aside from themselves! +And yet at the same time they have lynx eyes for +all distress and suffering elsewhere! Are we not, +then, with this gigantic intention of ours of smoothing +down every sharp edge and corner in life, utilising +the best means of turning mankind into sand! +Small, soft, round, infinite sand! Is that your +ideal, ye harbingers of the <q>sympathetic affections</q>? +In the meantime even the question remains +unanswered whether we are of more use to +our neighbour in running immediately and continually +to his help,—which for the most part can +only be done in a very superficial way, as otherwise +it would become a tyrannical meddling and +changing,—or by transforming ourselves into something +which our neighbour can look upon with +pleasure,—something, for example, which may be +compared to a beautiful, quiet, and secluded garden, +protected by high walls against storms and the dust +of the roads, but likewise with a hospitable gate. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>175.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Fundamental Basis of a Culture of +Traders.</hi>—We have now an opportunity of +watching the manifold growth of the culture of a +society of which commerce is the soul, just as +personal rivalry was the soul of culture among the +ancient Greeks, and war, conquest, and law among +the ancient Romans. The tradesman is able to +value everything without producing it, and to value +it according to the requirements of the consumer +rather than his own personal needs. <q>How many +<pb n='179'/><anchor id='Pg179'/> +and what class of people will consume this?</q> is +his question of questions. Hence, he instinctively +and incessantly employs this mode of valuation and +applies it to everything, including the productions +of art and science, and of thinkers, scholars, artists, +statesmen, nations, political parties, and even entire +ages: with respect to everything produced or +created he inquires into the supply and demand in +order to estimate for himself the value of a thing. +This, when once it has been made the principle of +an entire culture, worked out to its most minute +and subtle details, and imposed upon every kind +of will and knowledge, this is what you men of the +coming century will be proud of,—if the prophets +of the commercial classes are right in putting that +century into your possession! But I have little belief +in these prophets. <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>Credat Judæus Apella</foreign>—to +speak with Horace. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>176.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Criticism of our Ancestors.</hi>—Why +should we now endure the truth, even about the +most recent past? Because there is now always a +new generation which feels itself in contradiction +to the past and enjoys in this criticism the first-fruits +of its sense of power. In former times the +new generation, on the contrary, wished to base +itself on the old and began to feel conscious of its +power, not only in accepting the opinions of its +ancestors but, if possible, taking them even more +seriously. To criticise ancestral authority was in +former times a vice; but at the present time our +idealists begin by making it their starting-point. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='180'/><anchor id='Pg180'/> + +<div> +<head>177.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To learn Solitude.</hi>—O ye poor fellows in +the great centres of the world's politics, ye young +and talented men, who, urged on by ambition, think +it your duty to propound your opinion of every +event of the day,—for something is always happening,—who, +by thus making a noise and raising +a cloud of dust, mistake yourselves for the rolling +chariot of history; who, because ye always listen, +always suit the moment when ye can put in your +word or two, thereby lose all real productiveness. +Whatever may be your desire to accomplish great +deeds, the deep silence of pregnancy never comes +to you! The event of the day sweeps you along +like straws before the wind whilst ye lie under the +illusion that ye are chasing the event,—poor fellows! +If a man wishes to act the hero on the +stage he must not think of forming part of the +chorus; he should not even know how the chorus +is made up. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>178.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Daily Wear and Tear.</hi>—These young men +are lacking neither in character, nor talent, nor zeal, +but they have never had sufficient time to choose +their own path; they have, on the contrary, been +habituated from the most tender age to have their +path pointed out to them. At the time when +they were ripe enough to be sent into the <q>desert,</q> +something else was done with them. They were +turned to account, estranged from themselves, and +<pb n='181'/><anchor id='Pg181'/> +brought up in such a way that they became accustomed +to be worn out by their daily toil. This +was imposed on them as a duty, and now they +cannot do without it; they would not wish it to be +otherwise. The only thing that cannot be refused +to these poor beasts of burden is their <q>holidays</q>—such +is the name they give to this ideal of leisure +in an overworked century; <q>holidays,</q> in which +they may for once be idle, idiotic, and childish to +their heart's content. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>179.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>As little State as possible!</hi>—All political +and economic matters are not of such great value +that they ought to be dealt with by the most +talented minds: such a waste of intellect is at +bottom worse than any state of distress. These +matters are, and ever will be, the province of smaller +minds, and others than the smaller minds should +not be at the service of this workshop: it would be +better to let the machinery work itself to pieces +again! But as matters stand at the present time, +when not only do all people believe that they must +know all about it day by day, but wish likewise +to be always busy about it, and in so doing neglect +their own work, it is a great and ridiculous mistake. +The price that has to be paid for the <q>public +safety</q> is far too high, and, what is maddest of all, +we effect the very opposite of <q>public safety</q> a +fact which our own dear century has undertaken +to prove, as if this had never been proved before! +To make society secure against thieves and fire, and +to render it thoroughly fit for all kinds of trade and +<pb n='182'/><anchor id='Pg182'/> +traffic, and to transform the State in a good and +evil sense into a kind of Providence—these aims +are low, mediocre, and not by any means indispensable; +and we should not seek to attain them +by the aid of the highest means and instruments +which exist—means which we should reserve precisely +for our highest and rarest aims! Our epoch, +however much it may babble about economy, is a +spendthrift: it wastes intellect, the most precious +thing of all. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>180.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Wars.</hi>—The great wars of our own day are the +outcome of historical study. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>181.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Governing.</hi>—Some people govern because of +their passion for governing; others in order that +they may not be governed,—the latter choose it as +the lesser of two evils. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>182.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Rough and Ready Consistency.</hi>—People say +of a man with great respect, <q>He is a character</q>—that +is, when he exhibits a rough and ready consistency, +when it is evident even to the dullest eye. +But, whenever a more subtle and profound intellect +sets itself up and shows consistency in a higher +manner, the spectators deny the existence of any +character. That is why cunning statesmen usually +act their comedy under the cloak of a kind of rough +and ready consistency. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='183'/><anchor id='Pg183'/> + +<div> +<head>183.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Old and the Young.</hi>—<q>There is something +immoral about Parliaments,</q>—so many people +still think,—<q>for in them views even against the +Government may be expressed.</q>—<q>We should +always adopt that view of a subject which our +gracious Lord commands,</q>—this is the eleventh +commandment in many an honest old head, especially +in Northern Germany. We laugh at it as an +out-of-date fashion, but in former times it was the +moral law itself. Perhaps we shall again some day +laugh at that which is now considered as moral by +a generation brought up under a parliamentary +régime, namely, the policy of placing one's party +before one's own wisdom, and of answering every +question concerning the public welfare in such a +way as to fill the sails of the party with a favourable +gust of wind. <q>We must take that view of a +subject which the position of our party calls for</q>—such +would be the canon. In the service of such +morals we may now behold every kind of sacrifice, +even martyrdom and conquest over one's self. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>184.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The State as a Production of Anarchists.</hi>—In +countries inhabited by tractable men there +are always a few backsliders and intractable +people. For the present the latter have joined the +Socialists more than any other party. If it should +happen that these people once come to have the +making of the laws, they may be relied upon to +<pb n='184'/><anchor id='Pg184'/> +impose iron chains upon themselves, and to practise +a dreadful discipline,—they know themselves! and +they will endure these harsh laws with the knowledge +that they themselves have imposed them—the +feeling of power and of this particular power +will be too recent among them and too attractive +for them not to suffer anything for its sake. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>185.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Beggars.</hi>—Beggars ought to be suppressed; +because we get angry both when we help them and +when we do not. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>186.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Business Men.</hi>—Your business is your greatest +prejudice, it binds you to your locality, your society +and your tastes. Diligent in business but lazy in +thought, satisfied with your paltriness and with +the cloak of duty concealing this contentment: +thus you live, and thus you like your children to +be. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>187.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Possible Future.</hi>—Is it impossible for us +to imagine a social state in which the criminal will +publicly denounce himself and dictate his own +punishment, in the proud feeling that he is thus +honouring the law which he himself has made, that +he is exercising his power, the power of a lawmaker, +in thus punishing himself? He may offend for +once, but by his own voluntary punishment he +raises himself above his offence, and not only expiates +it by his frankness, greatness, and calmness, +<pb n='185'/><anchor id='Pg185'/> +but adds to it a public benefit.—Such would be +the criminal of a possible future, a criminal who +would, it is true, presuppose a future legislation +based upon this fundamental idea: <q>I yield in +great things as well as in small only to the law +which I myself have made.</q> How many experiments +must yet be made! How many futures +have yet to dawn upon mankind! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>188.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Stimulants and Food.</hi>—Nations are deceived +so often because they are always looking for a +deceiver, <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> a stimulating wine for their senses. +When they can only have this wine they are +glad to put up even with inferior bread. Intoxication +is to them more than nutriment—this is the +bait with which they always let themselves be +caught! What, to them, are men chosen from +among themselves—although they may be the +most expert specialists—as compared with the +brilliant conquerors, or ancient and magnificent +princely houses! In order that he may inspire +them with faith, the demagogue must at least exhibit +to them a prospect of conquest and splendour. +People will always obey, and even do more than +obey, provided that they can become intoxicated +in doing so. We may not even offer them repose +and pleasure without this laurel crown and its +maddening influence. +</p> + +<p> +This vulgar taste which ascribes greater importance +to intoxication than nutrition did not by +any means originate in the lower ranks of the +<pb n='186'/><anchor id='Pg186'/> +population: it was, on the contrary, transplanted +there, and on this backward soil it grows in great +abundance, whilst its real origin must be sought +amongst the highest intellects, where it flourished +for thousands of years. The people is the last +virgin soil upon which this brilliant weed can grow. +Well, then, is it really to the people that we should +entrust politics in order that they may thereby +have their daily intoxication? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>189.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>High Politics.</hi>—Whatever may be the influence +in high politics of utilitarianism and the +vanity of individuals and nations, the sharpest spur +which urges them onwards is their need for the +feeling of power—a need which rises not only in +the souls of princes and rulers, but also gushes forth +from time to time from inexhaustible sources in the +people. The time comes again and again when the +masses are ready to stake their lives and their +fortunes, their consciences and their virtue, in order +that they may secure that highest of all enjoyments +and rule as a victorious, tyrannical, and arbitrary +nation over other nations (or at all events think that +they do). +</p> + +<p> +On occasions such as these, feelings of prodigality, +sacrifice, hope, confidence, extraordinary +audacity, and enthusiasm will burst forth so +abundantly that a sovereign who is ambitious or +far-sighted will be able to seize the opportunity for +making war, counting upon the good conscience of +his people to hide his injustice. Great conquerors +<pb n='187'/><anchor id='Pg187'/> +have always given utterance to the pathetic language +of virtue; they have always been surrounded +by crowds of people who felt themselves, as it were, +in a state of exaltation and would listen to none +but the most elevated oratory. The strange madness +of moral judgments! When man experiences +the sensation of power he feels and calls +himself good; and at exactly the same time the +others who have to endure his power call him +evil!—Hesiod, in his fable of the epochs of man, +has twice in succession depicted the same epoch, +that of the heroes of Homer, and has thus made two +epochs out of one: to those who lived under the +terrible iron heel of those adventurous despots, or +had heard their ancestors speak of them, the epoch +appeared to be evil; but the descendants of those +chivalric races worshipped it as the <q>good old times,</q> +and as an almost ideally blissful age. The poet +could thus not help doing what he did,—his audience +probably included the descendants of both races. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>190.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Former German Culture.</hi>—When the +Germans began to interest other European nations, +which is not so very long ago, it was owing to a +culture which they no longer possess to-day, and +which they have indeed shaken off with a blind +ardour, as if it had been some disease; and yet they +have not been able to replace it by anything better +than political and national lunacy. They have in +this way succeeded in becoming even more interesting +to other nations than they were formerly +<pb n='188'/><anchor id='Pg188'/> +through their culture: and may that satisfy them! +It is nevertheless undeniable that this German +culture has fooled Europeans, and that it did not +deserve the interest shown in it, and much less the +imitation and emulation displayed by other nations +in trying to rival it. +</p> + +<p> +Let us look back for a moment upon Schiller, +Wilhelm von Humboldt, Schleiermacher, Hegel, +and Schelling; let us read their correspondence and +mingle for a time with the large circle of their +followers: what have they in common, what +characteristics have they, that fill us, as we are now, +partly with a feeling of nausea and partly with pitiful +and touching emotions? First and foremost, the +passion for appearing at all costs to be morally +exalted, and then the desire for giving utterance +to brilliant, feeble, and inconsequential remarks, +together with their fixed purpose of looking upon +everything (characters, passions, times, customs) as +beautiful—<q>beautiful,</q> alas, in accordance with a +bad and vague taste, which nevertheless pretended +to be of Hellenic origin. We behold in these people +a weak, good-natured, and glistening idealism, which, +above all, wished to exhibit noble attitudes and noble +voices, something at once presumptuous and inoffensive, +and animated by a cordial aversion to +<q>cold</q> or <q>dry</q> reality—as also to anatomy, complete +passions, and every kind of philosophical continence +and scepticism, but especially towards the +knowledge of nature in so far as it was impossible +to use it as religious symbolism. +</p> + +<p> +Goethe, in his own characteristic fashion, observed +from afar these movements of German +<pb n='189'/><anchor id='Pg189'/> +culture: placing himself beyond their influence, +gently remonstrating, silent, more and more confirmed +in his own better course. A little later, and +Schopenhauer also was an observer of these movements—a +great deal of the world and devilry of the +world had again been revealed to him, and he +spoke of it both roughly and enthusiastically, for +there is a certain beauty in this devilry! And what +was it, then, that really seduced the foreigners and +prevented them from viewing this movement as +did Goethe and Schopenhauer, or, better, from ignoring +it altogether? It was that faint lustre, that +inexplicable starlight which formed a mysterious +halo around this culture. The foreigners said to +themselves: <q>This is all very very remote from us; +our sight, hearing, understanding, enjoyment, and +powers of valuations are lost here, but in spite of +that there may be some stars! There may be +something in it! Is it possible that the Germans +have quietly discovered some corner of heaven and +settled there? We must try to come nearer to +these Germans.</q> So they did begin to come nearer +to the Germans, while not so very long afterwards +the Germans put themselves to some trouble to get +rid of this starlight halo: they knew only too well +that they had not been in heaven, but only in a +cloud! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>191.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Better Men.</hi>—They tell me that our art is +meant for the men of the present day, these greedy, +unsatisfied, undisciplined, disgusted, and harassed +spirits, and that it exhibits to them a picture of +<pb n='190'/><anchor id='Pg190'/> +happiness, exaltation, and unworldliness beside that +of their own brutality, so that for once they may forget +and breathe freely; nay, perhaps find that they +may derive some encouragement towards flight and +conversion from that oblivion. Poor artists, with +such a public as this; half of whose thoughts require +the attention of a priest, and the other half +the attention of an alienist! How much happier +was Corneille—<q>Our great Corneille!</q> as Madame +de Sévigné exclaimed, with the accent of a woman +in the presence of a whole man,—how far superior +was his audience, which he could please with +pictures of chivalric virtues, strict duty, generous +devotion, and heroic self-denial! How differently +did he and they love existence, not as coming from +blind and confused <q>will,</q> which we curse because +we cannot destroy it; but loving existence as a +place, so to speak, where greatness joined with +humanity is possible, and where even the greatest +restraint of form, such as submission to the caprice +of priests and princes, could not suppress either the +pride, chivalric feeling, the grace or the intellect of +individuals, but could, on the contrary, be felt as a +charm and incentive, as a welcome contrast to innate +self-glorification and distinction and the inherited +power of volition and passion. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>192.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Desire for Perfect Opponents.</hi>—It +cannot be denied that the French have been the +most Christian nation in the world, not because the +devotion of masses in France has been greater than +<pb n='191'/><anchor id='Pg191'/> +elsewhere, but because those Christian ideals which +are most difficult to realise have become incarnated +here instead of merely remaining fancies, +intentions, or imperfect beginnings. Take Pascal, +for example, the greatest of all Christians in his +combination of ardour, intellect, and honesty, and +consider what elements had to be combined in his +case! Take Fénelon, the most perfect and attractive +embodiment of ecclesiastical culture in all +its power: a sublime golden mean of whom a +historian would be tempted to prove the impossibility, +whilst in reality he was merely the perfection +of something exceedingly difficult and improbable. +Take Madame de Guyon among her companions, +the French Quietists: and everything that the +eloquence and ardour of the Apostle Paul has endeavoured +to divine with regard to the Christian's +state of semi-divinity, this most sublime, loving, +silent, and ecstatic state is seen verified in her, without, +however, that Jewish obtrusiveness that Paul +showed towards God—due in the case of Madame +de Guyon to the real old French artlessness in +words and gestures, artlessness at once womanly, +subtle, and distinguished. Consider, again, the +founder of the Trappists—the last person who +really took seriously the ascetic ideal of Christianity, +not because he was an exception among +Frenchmen, but because he was a true Frenchman: +for up to our own day his gloomy organisation has +not been able to acclimatise itself and to prosper, +except among Frenchmen; and it has followed +them into Alsace and Algeria. +</p> + +<p> +Let us not forget the Huguenots, either: that +<pb n='192'/><anchor id='Pg192'/> +combination of a martial and industrial spirit, refined +manners and Christian severity, has never +been more beautifully exhibited. And it was at +Port Royal that the great Christian erudition beheld +its last era of prosperity; and in France more than +anywhere else great men know how to prosper. +Though not at all superficial, a great Frenchman +has always his apparent superficiality;—he has, so +to speak, a natural skin for his real contents and +depth,—while, on the other hand, the depth of a +great German is generally, as it were, closed up in an +ugly-shaped box, like an elixir, which, by means of a +hard and curious covering, endeavours to preserve +itself from the light of day and the touch of thoughtless +hands. And now let us endeavour to find out +why a people like the French, so prolific in perfect +types of Christians, likewise necessarily brought +forth the perfect contrary types, those of unchristian +free-thought! The French free-thinker, in his own +inward being, had to fight against truly great men, +and not, like the free-thinkers of other nations, +merely against dogmas and sublime abortions. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>193.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>Esprit</foreign> and Morals.</hi>—The German, who +possesses the secret of knowing how to be tedious +in spite of wit, knowledge, and feeling, and who has +habituated himself to consider tediousness as moral, +is in dread in the presence of French <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>esprit</foreign> lest it +should tear out the eyes of morality—but a dread +mingled with <q>fascination,</q> like that experienced +by the little bird in the presence of the rattlesnake. +<pb n='193'/><anchor id='Pg193'/> +Amongst all the celebrated Germans none possessed +more <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>esprit</foreign> than Hegel, but he also had that great +German dread of it which brought about his peculiar +and defective style. For the nature of this style +resembles a kernel, which is wrapped up so many +times in an outer covering that it can scarcely peep +through, now and then glancing forth bashfully and +inquisitively, like <q>young women peeping through +their veils,</q> to use the words of that old woman-hater, +Æschylus. This kernel, however, is a witty +though often impertinent joke on intellectual subjects, +a subtle and daring combination of words, +such as is necessary in a society of thinkers as +gilding for a scientific pill—but, enveloped as it is +in an almost impenetrable cover, it exhibits itself +as the most abstruse science, and likewise as the +worst possible moral tediousness. Here the Germans +had a permissible form of <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>esprit</foreign> and they +revelled in it with such boundless delight that +even Schopenhauer's unusually fine understanding +could not grasp it—during the whole of his life he +thundered against the spectacle that the Germans +offered to him, but he could never explain it. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>194.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Vanity of the Teachers of Morals.</hi>—The +relatively small success which teachers of morals +have met with may be explained by the fact that +they wanted too much at once, <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> they were too +ambitious and too fond of laying down precepts +for everybody. In other words, they were beating +the air and making speeches to animals in order to +<pb n='194'/><anchor id='Pg194'/> +turn them into men; what wonder, then, that the +animals thought this tedious! We should rather +choose limited circles and endeavour to find and +promote morals for them: for instance, we should +make speeches to wolves with the object of turning +them into dogs; but, above all, the greatest success +will remain for the man who does not seek to +educate either everybody or certain limited circles, +but only one single individual, and who cannot be +turned to the right or left from his straight purpose. +The last century was superior to ours precisely +because it possessed so many individually educated +men, as well as educators in the same proportion, +who had made this their life's task, and who with +this task were dignified not only in their own eyes +but in those of all the remaining <q>good society.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>195.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The so-called Classical Education.</hi>—Alas! +we discover that our life is consecrated to +knowledge and that we should throw it away, nay, +that we should even have to throw it away if this +consecration did not protect us from ourselves: we +repeat this couplet, and not without deep emotion: +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<lg> +<l>Thee, Fate, I follow, though I fain would not,</l> +<l>And yet I must, with many a sigh and groan!</l> +</lg> +</quote> + +<p> +And then, in looking backwards over the course of +our lives, we discover that there is one thing that +cannot be restored to us: the wasted period of our +youth, when our teachers did not utilise these ardent +and eager years to lead us to the knowledge of +things, but merely to this so-called <q>classical education</q>! +<pb n='195'/><anchor id='Pg195'/> +Only think of this wasted youth, when +we were inoculated clumsily and painfully with an +imperfect knowledge of the Greeks and Romans as +well as of their languages, contrary to the highest +principle of all culture, which holds that we should +not give food except to those who hunger for it! +Think of that period of our lives when we had +mathematics and physics forced down our throats, +instead of being first of all made acquainted with +the despair of ignorance, instead of having our little +daily life, our activities, and everything occurring +in our houses, our workshops, in the sky, and in +nature, split up into thousands of problems, painful, +humiliating and irritating problems—and thus +having our curiosity made acquainted with the +fact that we first of all require a mathematical and +mechanical knowledge before we can be allowed +to rejoice in the absolute logic of this knowledge! +If we had only been imbued with reverence for +those branches of science, if we had only been made +to tremble with emotion—were it only for once—at +the struggles, the defeats, and the renewed +combats of those great men, of the martyrdom +which is the history of pure science! But, on the +contrary, we were allowed to develop a certain contempt +for those sciences in favour of historical +training, formal education<note place='foot'><q>Formal education</q> is the name given in Germany to +those branches of learning which tend to develop the logical +faculties, as opposed to <q>material</q> education which deals +with the acquisition of facts and all kinds of <q>useful</q> knowledge.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> and <q>classicism.</q> +</p> + +<p> +And we allowed ourselves to be so easily deceived! +<pb n='196'/><anchor id='Pg196'/> +Formal education! Might we not have +pointed to the best teachers at our high schools and +asked laughingly, <q>Where then do they keep their +formal education? and, if it is wanting in them, +how can they teach it?</q> And classicism! Did +we get any of that instruction which the ancients +used to impart to their youth? Did we learn to +speak or to write like them? Did we ceaselessly +exercise ourselves in that duel of speech, dialectic? +Did we learn to move as beautifully and proudly +as they did, and to excel as they did in wrestling, +throwing, and boxing? Did we learn anything of +that practical asceticism of all the Greek philosophers? +Did we receive any training in a single +ancient virtue, and in the way in which the ancients +were trained in it? Was not all meditation upon +morals wanting in our education?—And how much +more the only possible criticism on the subject of +morality, those courageous and earnest attempts to +live according to this or that morality! Did our +teachers ever stir up a feeling in us which the ancients +valued more highly than moderns? Did they in the +spirit of the ancients indicate to us the divisions of +the day and of life, and those aims by which the lives +of the ancients were guided? Did we learn the +ancient languages as we now learn the modern ones, +viz. that we might speak them fluently and well? +Nowhere can we find a real proficiency or any new +faculty as the result of those toilsome years! +only the knowledge of what men had learnt and +were able to do in past ages! +</p> + +<p> +And what knowledge! Nothing becomes clearer +to me year by year than the fact that the entire +<pb n='197'/><anchor id='Pg197'/> +Greek and ancient mode of life, however simple and +evident it must seem to our eyes, is in truth very +difficult to understand, and even scarcely accessible, +and that the customary ease with which we babble +about the ancients is either giddy levity or the old +hereditary conceit of our thoughtlessness. We are +deceived by words and ideas which appear to resemble +our own, but behind them there is always +concealed a feeling which must be strange, incomprehensible, +or painful to our modern conceptions. +And these are realms in which boys are allowed +to roam about! Enough: we roamed about them +in our childhood, and there we became seized with +an almost ineradicable antipathy for all antiquity, +the antipathy arising from an intimacy which +was apparently too great! For so great is the +conceit of our classical teachers, who would almost +make it appear that they had gained full control +over the ancients, that they pass on this conceit to +their pupils, together with the suspicion that such +a possession is of little use for making people happy, +but is good enough for honest, foolish old book-worms. +<q>Let them brood over their treasure: it is +well worthy of them!</q>—It is with this unexpressed +thought that we completed our classical education. +It can't be changed now—for us, at all events! +But let us not think of ourselves alone! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>196.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Most Personal Questions of Truth.</hi>—What +am I really doing, and what do I mean by +doing it? That is the question of truth which is +not taught under our present system of education, +<pb n='198'/><anchor id='Pg198'/> +and consequently not asked, because there is no +time for it. On the other hand, we have always time +and inclination for talking nonsense with children, +rather than telling them the truth; for flattering +women who will later on be mothers, rather than +telling them the truth; and for speaking with young +men about their future and their pleasures, rather +than about the truth! +</p> + +<p> +But what, after all, are seventy years!—Time +passes, and they soon come to an end; it matters as +little to us as it does to the wave to know how and +whither it is rolling! No, it might even be wisdom +not to know it. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Agreed; but it shows a want of pride not even +to inquire into the matter; our culture does not +tend to make people proud.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>So much the better!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Is it really?</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>197.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Enmity of the Germans towards Enlightenment.</hi>—Let +us consider the contributions +which in the first half of this century the Germans +made to general culture by their intellectual work. +In the first place, let us take the German philosophers: +they went back to the first and oldest stage +of speculation, for they were content with conceptions +instead of explanations, like the thinkers +of dreamy epochs—a pre-scientific type of philosophy +was thus revived by them. Secondly, we +have the German historians and romanticists: their +efforts on the whole aimed at restoring to the place +of honour certain old and primitive sentiments, +<pb n='199'/><anchor id='Pg199'/> +especially Christianity, the <q>soul of the people,</q> folk-lore, +folk-speech, mediævalism, Oriental asceticism, +and Hinduism. In the third place, there are the +natural philosophers who fought against the spirit +of Newton and Voltaire, and, like Goethe and +Schopenhauer, endeavoured to re-establish the idea +of a deified or diabolised nature, and of its absolute +ethical and symbolical meaning. The main general +tendency of the Germans was directed against +enlightenment and against those social revolutions +which were stupidly mistaken for the consequences +of enlightenment: the piety towards everything that +existed tried to become piety towards everything +that had ever existed, only in order that heart and +mind might be permitted to fill themselves and +gush forth again, thus leaving no space for future +and novel aims. The cult of feeling took the place +of the cult of reason, and the German musicians, as +the best exponents of all that is invisible, enthusiastic, +legendary, and passionate, showed themselves +more successful in building up the new temple than +all the other artists in words and thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +If, in considering these details, we have taken into +account the fact that many good things were said +and investigated, and that many things have since +then been more fairly judged than on any previous +occasion, there yet remains to be said of the whole +that it was a general danger, and one by no means +small, to set knowledge altogether below feeling +under the appearance of an entire and definitive acquaintance +with the past—and, to use that expression +of Kant, who thus defined his own particular +task—<q>To make way again for belief by fixing the +<pb n='200'/><anchor id='Pg200'/> +limits of knowledge.</q> Let us once more breathe +freely, the hour of this danger is past! And yet, +strange to say, the very spirits which these Germans +conjured up with such eloquence have at length become +the most dangerous for the intentions of those +who did conjure them up: history, the comprehension +of origin and development, sympathy with the past, +the new passion for feeling and knowledge, after +they had been for a long time at the service of this +obscure exalted and retrograde spirit, have once +more assumed another nature, and are now soaring +with outstretched wings above the heads of those +who once upon a time conjured them forth, as new +and stronger genii of that very enlightenment to +combat which they had been resuscitated. It is this +enlightenment which we have now to carry forward,—caring +nothing for the fact that there has been +and still is <q>a great revolution,</q> and again a great +<q>reaction</q> against it: these are but playful crests +of foam when compared with the truly great current +on which we float, and want to float. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>198.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Assigning Prestige to one's Country.</hi>—It +is the men of culture who determine the rank +of their country, and they are characterised by an +innumerable number of great inward experiences, +which they have digested and can now value +justly. In France and Italy this fell to the lot of +the nobility; in Germany, where up to now the +nobility has been, as a rule, composed of men who +had not much intellect to boast about (perhaps this +<pb n='201'/><anchor id='Pg201'/> +will soon cease to be the case), it was the task of the +priests, the school teachers and their descendants. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>199.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>We are Nobler.</hi>—Fidelity, generosity, concern +for one's good reputation: these three qualities, +combined in one sentiment, we call noble, distinguished, +aristocratic; and in this respect we excel +the Greeks. We do not wish to give this up at +any cost under the pretext that the ancient objects +of these virtues have rightly fallen in esteem, but +we wish cautiously to substitute new objects for +these most precious and hereditary impulses. To +understand why the sentiments of the noblest +Greeks must be considered as inferior and scarcely +respectable in the present age, where we are still +under the influence of the chivalric and feudal +nobility, we must recall the words of consolation to +which Ulysses gave utterance in the midst of the +most humiliating situations, <q>Bear with it, my dear +heart, bear with it! Thou hast borne with many +more swinish things<note place='foot'>The reference is to the <hi rend='italic'>Odyssey</hi>, <hi rend='smallcaps'>xx.</hi> 18: +<q>Τέτλαθι δή, κραδίη; καὶ κύντερον ἄλλο ποτ᾽ ἔτλης...</q> etc. Κύντερος, from +κύων, <q>a dog,</q> lit. more dog-like, <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> shameless, horrible, +audacious.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> than these!</q> As an instance +of this mythical example, consider also the tale of +that Athenian officer, who, when threatened with +a stick by another officer in the presence of the +entire general staff, shook off his disgrace with the +words, <q>Strike, but listen to me.</q> (This was +Themistocles, that ingenious Ulysses of the classical +<pb n='202'/><anchor id='Pg202'/> +epoch, who was just the man at the moment of +disgrace to address to his <q>dear heart</q> that verse +of comfort and affliction.) +</p> + +<p> +The Greeks were far from making light of life +and death because of an insult, as we, influenced +by a hereditary spirit of chivalric adventurousness +and self-devotion, are in the habit of doing; or +from looking for opportunities of honourably risking +life and death, as in duels; or from valuing the +preservation of an unstained name (honour) more +than the acquirement of an evil reputation, when the +latter was compatible with glory and the feeling of +power; or from remaining faithful to the prejudices +and the articles of faith of a caste, when these could +prevent them from becoming tyrants. For this is +the ignoble secret of the good Greek aristocrat: out +of sheer jealousy he treats every one of the members +of his caste as being on an equal footing with himself, +but he is ready at every moment to spring like a tiger +on his prey—despotism. What matter lies, murders, +treason, or the betrayal of his native city to him! +Justice was an extremely difficult matter for people +of this kind to understand—nay, justice was almost +something incredible. <q>The just man</q> was to the +Greeks what <q>the saint</q> was to the Christians. +When Socrates, however, laid down the axiom, +<q>The most virtuous man is the happiest,</q> they could +not trust their ears; they thought they had heard +a madman speaking. For, as a picture of the +happiest man, every nobleman had in his mind the +cheeky audacity and devilry of the tyrant who +sacrifices everything and every one to his own +exuberance and pleasure. Among people whose +<pb n='203'/><anchor id='Pg203'/> +imagination secretly raved about such happiness, +the worship of the State could not, of course, have +been too deeply implanted—but I think that men +whose desire for power does not rage so blindly as +that of the Greek noblemen no longer stand in +need of such idolatry of the State, by means of +which, in past ages, such a passion was kept within +due bounds. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>200.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Endurance of Poverty.</hi>—There is one great +advantage in noble extraction: it makes us endure +poverty better. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>201.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Future of the Nobility.</hi>—The bearing +of the aristocratic classes shows that, in all the +members of their body the consciousness of power +is continually playing its fascinating game. Thus +people of aristocratic habits, men or women, never +sink worn out into a chair; when every one else +makes himself comfortable, as in a train, for example, +they avoid reclining at their ease; they do +not appear to get tired after standing at Court for +hours at a stretch; they do not furnish their houses +in a comfortable manner, but in such a way as to +produce the impression of something grand and imposing, +as if they had to serve as a residence for +greater and taller beings; they reply to a provoking +speech with dignity and clearness of mind, and not +as if scandalised, crushed, shamed, or out of breath +in the plebeian fashion. As the aristocrat is able +to preserve the appearance of being possessed of a +<pb n='204'/><anchor id='Pg204'/> +superior physical force which never leaves him, he +likewise wishes by his aspect of constant serenity +and civility of disposition, even in the most trying +circumstances, to convey the impression that his +mind and soul are equal to all dangers and +surprises. A noble culture may resemble, so far +as passions are concerned, either a horseman who +takes pleasure in making his proud and fiery animal +trot in the Spanish fashion,—we have only to +recollect the age of Louis <hi rend='smallcaps'>xiv.</hi>,—or like the rider +who feels his horse dart away with him like the +elemental forces, to such a degree that both horse +and rider come near losing their heads, but, owing +to the enjoyment of the delight, do keep very clear +heads: in both these cases this aristocratic culture +breathes power, and if very often in its customs +only the appearance of the feeling of power is +required, nevertheless the real sense of superiority +continues constantly to increase as the result of the +impression which this display makes upon those +who are not aristocrats. +</p> + +<p> +This indisputable happiness of aristocratic culture, +based as it is on the feeling of superiority, is +now beginning to rise to ever higher levels; for +now, thanks to the free spirits, it is henceforth +permissible and not dishonourable for people who +have been born and reared in aristocratic circles +to enter the domain of knowledge, where they +may secure more intellectual consecrations and +learn chivalric services even higher than those of +former times, and where they may look up to that +ideal of victorious wisdom which as yet no age +has been able to set before itself with so good a +<pb n='205'/><anchor id='Pg205'/> +conscience as the period which is about to dawn. +Lastly, what is to be the occupation of the nobility +in the future if it becomes more evident from day +to day that it is less and less indecorus to take +any part in politics? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>202.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Care of the Health.</hi>—We have scarcely +begun to devote any attention to the physiology of +criminals, and yet we have already reached the inevitable +conclusion that between criminals and madmen +there is no really essential difference: <emph>if we +suppose that the current moral fashion of thinking +is a healthy way of thinking</emph>. No belief, however, +is nowadays more firmly believed in than this one, +so we should not therefore shrink from drawing the +inevitable conclusion and treating the criminal like +a lunatic—above all, not with haughty pitifulness, +but with medical skill and good will. He +may perhaps be in need of a change of air, a +change of society, or temporary absence: perhaps +of solitude and new occupations—very well! He +may perhaps feel that it would be to his advantage +to live under surveillance for a short time in order +thus to obtain protection from himself and from a +troublesome tyrannical impulse—very well! We +should make clear to him the possibility and the +means of curing him (the extermination, transformation, +and sublimation of these impulses), and also, +in the worst cases, the improbability of a cure; and +we should offer to the incurable criminal, who has +become a useless burden to himself, the opportunity +of committing suicide. While holding this in reserve +<pb n='206'/><anchor id='Pg206'/> +as an extreme measure of relief, we should +neglect nothing which would tend above all to restore +to the criminal his good courage and freedom of +spirit; we should free his soul from all remorse, as +if it were something unclean, and show him how he +may atone for a wrong which he may have done +some one by benefiting some one else, perhaps the +community at large, in such way that he might +even do more than balance his previous offence. +</p> + +<p> +All this must be done with the greatest tact! +The criminal must, above all, remain anonymous +or adopt an assumed name, changing his place of +residence frequently, so that his reputation and +future life may suffer as little as possible. At the +present time it is true that the man who has been +injured, apart altogether from the manner in which +this injury might be redressed, wishes for revenge +in addition, and applies to the courts that he may +obtain it—and this is why our dreadful penal laws +are still in force: Justice, as it were, holding up a +pair of shopkeeper's scales and endeavouring to +balance the guilt by punishment; but can we not +take a step beyond this? Would it not be a great +relief to the general sentiment of life if, while getting +rid of our belief in guilt, we could also get rid of +our old craving for vengeance, and gradually come +to believe that it is a refined wisdom for happy men +to bless their enemies and to do good to those who +have offended them, exactly in accordance with the +spirit of Christian teaching! Let us free the world +from this idea of sin, and take care to cast out with +it the idea of punishment. May these monstrous +ideas henceforth live banished far from the abodes +<pb n='207'/><anchor id='Pg207'/> +of men—if, indeed, they must live at all, and do +not perish from disgust with themselves. +</p> + +<p> +Let us not forget also, however, that the injury +caused to society and to the individual by the +criminal is of the same species as that caused by +the sick: for the sick spread cares and ill-humour; +they are non-productive, consume the earnings of +others, and at the same time require attendance, +doctors, and support, and they really live on the +time and strength of the healthy. In spite of this, +however, we should designate as inhuman any one +who, for this reason, would wish to wreak vengeance +on the sick. In past ages, indeed, this was actually +done: in primitive conditions of society, and even +now among certain savage peoples, the sick man is +treated as a criminal and as a danger to the community, +and it is believed that he is the resting-place +of certain demoniacal beings who have entered into +his body as the result of some offence he has committed—those +ages and peoples hold that the sick +are the guilty! +</p> + +<p> +And what of ourselves? Are we not yet ripe +for the contrary conception? Shall we not be +allowed to say, <q>The guilty are the sick</q>? No; +the hour for that has not yet come. We still lack, +above all, those physicians who have learnt something +from what we have hitherto called practical +morals and have transformed it into the art and +science of healing. We still lack that intense +interest in those things which some day perhaps +may seem not unlike the <q>storm and stress</q> of +those old religious ecstasies. The Churches have +not yet come into the possession of those who look +<pb n='208'/><anchor id='Pg208'/> +after our health; the study of the body and of +dietary are not yet amongst the obligatory subjects +taught in our primary and secondary schools; there +are as yet no quiet associations of those people +who are pledged to one another to do without the +help of law courts, and who renounce the punishment +and vengeance now meted out to those who +have offended against society. No thinker has as +yet been daring enough to determine the health of +society, and of the individuals who compose it, by +the number of parasites which it can support; and +no statesman has yet been found to use the ploughshare +in the spirit of that generous and tender +saying, <q>If thou wilt till the land, till it with the +plough; then the bird and the wolf, walking behind +thy plough, will rejoice in thee—all creatures will +rejoice in thee.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>203.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Against Bad Diet.</hi>—Fie upon the meals which +people nowadays eat in hotels and everywhere else +where the well-off classes of society live! Even when +eminent men of science meet together their tables +groan under the weight of the dishes, in accordance +with the principle of the bankers: the principle of +too many dishes and too much to eat. The result +of this is that dinners are prepared with a view to +their mere appearance rather than the consequences +that may follow from eating them, and that +stimulating drinks are required to help in driving +away the heaviness in the stomach and in the brain. +Fie on the dissoluteness and extreme nervousness +<pb n='209'/><anchor id='Pg209'/> +which must follow upon all this! Fie upon the +dreams that such repasts bring! Fie upon the arts +and books which must be the desert of such meals! +Despite all the efforts of such people their acts will +taste of pepper and ill-temper, or general weariness! +(The wealthy classes in England stand in great +need of their Christianity in order to be able to +endure their bad digestions and their headaches.) +Finally, to mention not only the disgusting but also +the more pleasant side of the matter, these people +are by no means mere gluttons: our century and its +spirit of activity has more power over the limbs than +the belly. What then is the meaning of these banquets? +They represent! What in Heaven's name +do they represent? Rank?—no, money! There is +no rank now! We are all <q>individuals</q>! but money +now stands for power, glory, pre-eminence, dignity, +and influence; money at the present time acts as +a greater or lesser moral prejudice for a man in +proportion to the amount he may possess. Nobody +wishes to hide it under a bushel or display +it in heaps on a table: hence money must have +some representative which can be put on the table—so +behold our banquets! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>204.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Danæ and the God of Gold.</hi>—Whence +arises this excessive impatience in our day which +turns men into criminals even in circumstances +which would be more likely to bring about the +contrary tendency? What induces one man to use +false weights, another to set his house on fire after +<pb n='210'/><anchor id='Pg210'/> +having insured it for more than its value, a third +to take part in counterfeiting, while three-fourths +of our upper classes indulge in legalised fraud, and +suffer from the pangs of conscience that follow +speculation and dealings on the Stock Exchange: +what gives rise to all this? It is not real want,—for +their existence is by no means precarious; +perhaps they have even enough to eat and drink +without worrying,—but they are urged on day and +night by a terrible impatience at seeing their wealth +pile up so slowly, and by an equally terrible longing +and love for these heaps of gold. In this impatience +and love, however, we see re-appear once +more that fanaticism of the desire for power which +was stimulated in former times by the belief that we +were in the possession of truth, a fanaticism which +bore such beautiful names that we could dare to be +inhuman with a good conscience (burning Jews, +heretics, and good books, and exterminating entire +cultures superior to ours, such as those of Peru +and Mexico). The means of this desire for power +are changed in our day, but the same volcano is +still smouldering, impatience and intemperate love +call for their victims, and what was once done +<q>for the love of God</q> is now done for the love of +money, <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> for the love of that which at present +affords us the highest feeling of power and a good +conscience. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>205.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The People of Israel.</hi>—One of the spectacles +which the next century will invite us to witness is +<pb n='211'/><anchor id='Pg211'/> +the decision regarding the fate of the European Jews. +It is quite obvious now that they have cast their +die and crossed their Rubicon: the only thing that +remains for them is either to become masters of +Europe or to lose Europe, as they once centuries ago +lost Egypt, where they were confronted with similar +alternatives. In Europe, however, they have gone +through a schooling of eighteen centuries such as +no other nation has ever undergone, and the experiences +of this dreadful time of probation have +benefited not only the Jewish community but, even +to a greater extent, the individual. As a consequence +of this, the resourcefulness of the modern +Jews, both in mind and soul, is extraordinary. +Amongst all the inhabitants of Europe it is the +Jews least of all who try to escape from any deep +distress by recourse to drink or to suicide, as other +less gifted people are so prone to do. Every Jew +can find in the history of his own family and of his +ancestors a long record of instances of the greatest +coolness and perseverance amid difficulties and +dreadful situations, an artful cunning in fighting +with misfortune and hazard. And above all it is +their bravery under the cloak of wretched submission, +their heroic <foreign lang='it' rend='italic'>spernere se sperni</foreign> that surpasses +the virtues of all the saints. +</p> + +<p> +People wished to make them contemptible by +treating them contemptibly for nearly twenty centuries, +and refusing them access to all honourable +positions and dignities, and by pushing them further +down into the meaner trades—and under this +process indeed they have not become any cleaner. +But contemptible? They have never ceased for a +<pb n='212'/><anchor id='Pg212'/> +moment from believing themselves qualified for the +very highest functions, nor have the virtues of the +suffering ever ceased to adorn them. Their manner +of honouring their parents and children, the rationality +of their marriages and marriage customs, distinguishes +them amongst all Europeans. Besides +this, they have been able to create for themselves a +sense of power and eternal vengeance from the very +trades that were left to them (or to which they were +abandoned). Even in palliation of their usury we +cannot help saying that, without this occasional +pleasant and useful torture inflicted on their +scorners, they would have experienced difficulty in +preserving their self-respect for so long. For our +self-respect depends upon our ability to make +reprisals in both good and evil things. Nevertheless, +their revenge never urges them on too far, for +they all have that liberty of mind, and even of soul, +produced in men by frequent changes of place, +climate, and customs of neighbours and oppressors, +they possess by far the greatest experience in all +human intercourse, and even in their passions they +exercise the caution which this experience has +developed in them. They are so certain of their +intellectual versatility and shrewdness that they +never, even when reduced to the direst straits, have +to earn their bread by manual labour as common +workmen, porters, or farm hands. In their manners +we can still see that they have never been inspired +by chivalric and noble feelings, or that their bodies +have ever been girt with fine weapons: a certain obtrusiveness +alternates with a submissiveness which +is often tender and almost always painful. +</p> + +<pb n='213'/><anchor id='Pg213'/> + +<p> +Now, however, that they unavoidably inter-marry +more and more year after year with the noblest +blood of Europe, they will soon have a considerable +heritage of good intellectual and physical manners, +so that in another hundred years they will have a +sufficiently noble aspect not to render themselves, +as masters, ridiculous to those whom they will have +subdued. And this is important! and therefore a +settlement of the question is still premature. They +themselves know very well that the conquest of +Europe or any act of violence is not to be thought +of; but they also know that some day or other Europe +may, like a ripe fruit, fall into their hands, if they +do not clutch at it too eagerly. In the meantime, +it is necessary for them to distinguish themselves +in all departments of European distinction and +to stand in the front rank: until they shall have +advanced so far as to determine themselves what +distinction shall mean. Then they will be called +the pioneers and guides of the Europeans whose +modesty they will no longer offend. +</p> + +<p> +And then where shall an outlet be found for this +abundant wealth of great impressions accumulated +during such an extended period and representing +Jewish history for every Jewish family, this wealth of +passions, virtues, resolutions, resignations, struggles, +and conquests of all kinds—where can it find an +outlet but in great intellectual men and works! On +the day when the Jews will be able to exhibit to us +as their own work such jewels and golden vessels +as no European nation, with its shorter and less +profound experience, can or could produce, when +Israel shall have changed its eternal vengeance into +<pb n='214'/><anchor id='Pg214'/> +an eternal benediction for Europe: then that seventh +day will once more appear when old Jehovah may +rejoice in Himself, in His creation, in His chosen +people—and all, all of us, will rejoice with Him! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>206.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Impossible Class.</hi>—Poverty, cheerfulness, +and independence—it is possible to find these three +qualities combined in one individual; poverty, +cheerfulness, and slavery—this is likewise a possible +combination: and I can say nothing better to the +workmen who serve as factory slaves; presuming +that it does not appear to them altogether to be +a shameful thing to be utilised as they are, as the +screws of a machine and the stopgaps, as it were, +of the human spirit of invention. Fie on the +thought that merely by means of higher wages the +essential part of their misery, <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> their impersonal +enslavement, might be removed! Fie, that we +should allow ourselves to be convinced that, by an +increase of this impersonality within the mechanical +working of a new society, the disgrace of slavery +could be changed into a virtue! Fie, that there +should be a regular price at which a man should +cease to be a personality and become a screw +instead! Are you accomplices in the present +madness of nations which desire above all to +produce as much as possible, and to be as rich as +possible? Would it not be your duty to present +a counter-claim to them, and to show them what +large sums of internal value are wasted in the +pursuit of such an external object? +</p> + +<pb n='215'/><anchor id='Pg215'/> + +<p> +But where is your internal value when you no +longer know what it is to breathe freely; when you +have scarcely any command over your own selves, +and often feel disgusted with yourselves as with some +stale food; when you zealously study the newspapers +and look enviously at your wealthy neighbour, made +covetous by the rapid rise and fall of power, money, +and opinions; when you no longer believe in a philosophy +in rags, or in the freedom of spirit of a man +who has few needs; when a voluntary and idyllic +poverty without profession or marriage, such as +should suit the more intellectual ones among you, +has become for you an object of derision? On +the other hand, the piping of the Socialistic rat-catchers +who wish to inspire you with foolish hopes +is continually sounding in your ears: they tell you +to be ready and nothing further, ready from this +day to the next, so that you wait and wait for +something to come from outside, though living in +all other respects as you lived before—until this +waiting is at length changed into hunger and thirst +and fever and madness, and the clay of the <foreign rend='italic'>bestia +triumphans</foreign> at last dawns in all its glory. Every +one of you should on the contrary say to himself: +<q>It would be better to emigrate and endeavour to +become a master in new and savage countries, and +especially to become master over myself, changing +my place of abode whenever the least sign of slavery +threatens me, endeavouring to avoid neither adventure +nor war, and, if things come to the worst, +holding myself ready to die: anything rather than +continuing in this state of disgraceful thraldom, this +bitterness, malice and rebelliousness!</q> This would +<pb n='216'/><anchor id='Pg216'/> +be the proper spirit: the workmen in Europe ought +to make it clear that their position as a class has +become a human impossibility, and not merely, as +they at present maintain, the result of some hard +and aimless arrangement of society. They should +bring about an age of great swarming forth from the +European beehive such as has never yet been seen, +protesting by this voluntary and huge migration +against machines and capital and the alternatives +that now threaten them either of becoming slaves +of the State or slaves of some revolutionary +party. +</p> + +<p> +May Europe be freed from one-fourth of her +inhabitants! Both she and they will experience a +sensation of relief. It is only far in the distance, in +the undertaking of vast colonisations, that we shall +be able to observe how much rationality, fairness, +and healthy suspicion mother Europe has incorporated +in her sons—these sons who could no +longer endure life in the home of the dull old woman, +always running the danger of becoming as bad-tempered, +irritable, and pleasure-seeking as she +herself. The European virtues will travel along +with these workmen far beyond the boundaries of +Europe; and those very qualities which on their +native soil had begun to degenerate into a dangerous +discontent and criminal inclinations will, when +abroad, be transformed into a beautiful, savage +naturalness and will be called heroism; so that at +last a purer air would again be wafted over this +old, over-populated, and brooding Europe of ours. +What would it matter if there was a scarcity of +<q>hands</q>? Perhaps people would then recollect +<pb n='217'/><anchor id='Pg217'/> +that they had accustomed themselves to many wants +merely because it was easy to gratify them—it +would be sufficient to unlearn some of these wants! +Perhaps also Chinamen would be called in, and +these would bring with them their modes of living +and thinking, which would be found very suitable +for industrious ants. They would also perhaps +help to imbue this fretful and restless Europe with +some of their Asiatic calmness and contemplation, +and—what is perhaps most needful of all—their +Asiatic stability. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>207.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Attitude of the Germans to +Morality.</hi>—A German is capable of great things, +but he is unlikely to accomplish them, for he obeys +whenever he can, as suits a naturally lazy intellect. +If he is ever in the dangerous situation of having +to stand alone and cast aside his sloth, when he +finds it no longer possible to disappear like a cipher +in a number (in which respect he is far inferior to +a Frenchman or an Englishman), he shows his true +strength: then he becomes dangerous, evil, deep, and +audacious, and exhibits to the light of day that +wealth of latent energy which he had previously +carried hidden in himself, and in which no one, not +even himself, had ever believed. When in such a +case a German obeys himself—it is very exceptional +for him to do so—he does so with the same heaviness, +inflexibility, and endurance with which he +obeys his prince and performs his official duties: +so that, as I have said, he is then capable of great +<pb n='218'/><anchor id='Pg218'/> +things which bear no relation to the <q>weak disposition</q> +he attributes to himself. +</p> + +<p> +As a rule, however, he is afraid of depending +upon himself alone, he is afraid of taking the initiative: +that is why Germany uses up so many +officials and so much ink. Light-heartedness is a +stranger to the German; he is too timid for it: +but in entirely new situations which rouse him from +his torpor he exhibits an almost frivolous spirit—he +then delights in the novelty of his new position +as if it were some intoxicating drink, and he is, +as we know, quite a connoisseur in intoxication. +It thus happens that the German of the present +day is almost always frivolous in politics, though +even here he has the advantage and prejudice +of thoroughness and seriousness; and, although he +may take full advantage of these qualities in negotiations +with other political powers, he nevertheless +rejoices inwardly at being able for once in his life +to feel enthusiastic and capricious, to show his +fondness for innovations, and to change persons, +parties, and hopes as if they were masks. Those +learned German scholars, who hitherto have been +considered as the most German of Germans, were +and perhaps still are as good as the German soldiers +on account of their profound and almost childish +inclination to obey in all external things, and on +account of being often compelled to stand alone in +science and to answer for many things: if they +can only preserve their proud, simple, and patient +disposition, and their freedom from political madness +at those times when the wind changes, we may +yet expect great things from them—such as they +<pb n='219'/><anchor id='Pg219'/> +are or such as they were, they are the embryonic +stage of something higher. +</p> + +<p> +So far the advantages and disadvantages of the +Germans, including even their learned men, have +been that they were more given to superstition and +showed greater eagerness to believe than any of the +other nations; their vices are, and always have +been, their drunkenness and suicidal inclinations +(the latter a proof of the clumsiness of their intellect, +which is easily tempted to throw away the reins). +Their danger is to be sought in everything that +binds down the faculties of reason and unchains +the passions (as, for example, the excessive use of +music and spirits), for the German passion acts +contrarily to its own advantage, and is as self-destructive +as the passions of the drunkard. Indeed, +German enthusiasm is worth less than that of other +nations, for it is barren. When a German ever did +anything great it was done at a time of danger, or +when his courage was high, with his teeth firmly +set and his prudence on the alert, and often enough +in a fit of generosity.—Intercourse with these +Germans is indeed advisable, for almost every one +of them has something to give, if we can only +understand how to make him find it, or rather +recover it (for he is very untidy in storing away +his knowledge). +</p> + +<p> +Well: when people of this type occupy themselves +with morals, what precisely will be the morality +that will satisfy them? In the first place, they will +wish to see idealised in their morals their sincere +instinct for obedience. <q>Man must have something +which he can implicitly obey</q>—this is a German +<pb n='220'/><anchor id='Pg220'/> +sentiment, a German deduction; it is the basis of +all German moral teaching. How different is the +impression, however, when we compare this with +the entire morality of the ancient world! All those +Greek thinkers, however varied they may appear to +us, seem to resemble, as moralists, the gymnastic +teacher who encourages his pupils by saying, +<q>Come, follow me! Submit to my discipline! +Then perhaps you may carry off the prize from all the +other Greeks.</q> Personal distinction: such was the +virtue of antiquity. Submission, obedience, whether +public or private: such is German virtue. Long +before Kant set forth his doctrine of the Categorical +Imperative, Luther, actuated by the same impulse, +said that there surely must be a being in whom man +could trust implicitly—it was his proof of the existence +of God; it was his wish, coarser and more +popular than that of Kant, that people should implicitly +obey a person and not an idea, and Kant +also finally took his roundabout route through +morals merely that he might secure obedience for +the person. This is indeed the worship of the +German, the more so as there is now less worship +left in his religion. +</p> + +<p> +The Greeks and Romans had other opinions on +these matters, and would have laughed at such +<q>there must be a being</q>: it is part of the boldness +of their Southern nature to take up a stand against +<q>implicit belief,</q> and to retain in their inmost +heart a trace of scepticism against all and every +one, whether God, man, or idea. The thinker of +antiquity went even further, and said <foreign rend='italic'>nil admirari</foreign>: +in this phrase he saw reflected all philosophy. A +<pb n='221'/><anchor id='Pg221'/> +German, Schopenhauer, goes so far in the contrary +direction as to say: <foreign rend='italic'>admirari id est philosophari</foreign>. +But what if, as happens now and then, the German +should attain to that state of mind which would +enable him to perform great things? if the hour of +exception comes, the hour of disobedience? I do +not think Schopenhauer is right in saying that the +single advantage the Germans have over other +nations is that there are more atheists among them +than elsewhere; but I do know this: whenever the +German reaches the state in which he is capable of +great things, he invariably raises himself above +morals! And why should he not? Now he has +something new to do, viz. to command—either himself +or others! But this German morality of his has +not taught him how to command! Commanding +has been forgotten in it. +</p> + +</div> + +</div> + +<pb n='223'/><anchor id='Pg223'/> + +<div rend='page-break-before: always'> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Book IV.</head> + +<div> +<head>208.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Question of Conscience.</hi>—<q>Now, <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>in summa</foreign>, +tell me what this new thing is that you want.</q>—<q>We +no longer wish causes to be sinners and effects +to be executioners.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>209.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Utility of the strictest Theories.</hi>—People +are indulgent towards a man's moral +weaknesses, and in this connection they use a coarse +sieve, provided that he always professes to hold the +most strict moral theories. On the other hand, the +lives of free-thinking moralists have always been +examined closely through a microscope, in the tacit +belief that an error in their lives would be the best +argument against their disagreeable knowledge.<note place='foot'>If this aphorism seems obscure, the reader may take +Tolstoi as an example of the first class and Nietzsche as an +example of the second. Tolstoi's inconsistencies are generally +glossed over, because he professed the customary moral +theories of the age, while Nietzsche has had to endure the +most searching criticism because he did not. In Nietzsche's +case, however, the scrutiny has been in vain; for, having no +unworkable Christian theories to uphold, unlike Tolstoi, +Nietzsche's life is not a series of compromises. The career +of the great pagan philosopher was, in essence, much more +saintly than that of the great Christian. How different from +Tolstoi, too, was that noble Christian, Pascal, who, from the +inevitable clash of his creed and his nature, died at thirty-eight, +while his weaker epigone lived in the fulness of his +fame until he was over eighty!—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='224'/><anchor id='Pg224'/> + +<div> +<head>210.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The <q>Thing in Itself.</q></hi>—We used to ask +formerly: What is the ridiculous?—as if there were +something above and beyond ourselves that possessed +the quality of provoking laughter, and we exhausted +ourselves in trying to guess what it was (a +theologian even held that it might be <q>the <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>naïveté</foreign> +of sin</q>). At the present time we ask: What is +laughter? how does it arise? We have considered +the point, and finally reached the conclusion that +there is nothing which is good, beautiful, sublime, or +evil in itself; but rather that there are conditions +of soul which lead us to attribute such qualities to +things outside ourselves and in us. We have taken +back their predicates from things; or we have at +all events recollected that we have merely lent the +things these predicates. Let us be careful that this +insight does not cause us to lose the faculty of lending, +and that we do not become at the same time +wealthier and more avaricious. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>211.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To those who Dream of Immortality.</hi>—So +you desire the everlasting perpetuity of this +beautiful consciousness of yourselves? Is it not +<pb n='225'/><anchor id='Pg225'/> +shameful? Do you forget all those other things +which would in their turn have to support <emph>you</emph> for +all eternity, just as they have borne with you up +to the present with more than Christian patience? +Or do you think that you can inspire them with +an eternally pleasant feeling towards yourself? A +single immortal man on earth would imbue everyone +around him with such a disgust for him that +a general epidemic of murder and suicide would be +brought about. And yet, ye petty dwellers on earth, +with your narrow conceptions of a few thousand +little minutes of time, ye would wish to be an everlasting +burden on this everlasting universal existence! +Could anything be more impertinent? After +all, however, let us be indulgent towards a being +of seventy years: he has not been able to exercise +his imagination in conceiving his own <q>eternal +tediousness</q>—he had not time enough for that! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>212.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Wherein we know Ourselves.</hi>—As soon as +one animal sees another it mentally compares itself +with it; and men of uncivilised ages did the same. +The consequence is that almost all men come to +know themselves only as regards their defensive +and offensive faculties. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>213.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Men whose Lives have been Failures.</hi>—Some +men are built of such stuff that society is at +liberty to do what it likes with them—they will do +well in any case, and will not have to complain of +<pb n='226'/><anchor id='Pg226'/> +having failed in life. Other men are formed of such +peculiar material—it need not be a particularly +noble one, but simply rarer—that they are sure to +fare ill except in one single instance: when they +can live according to their own designs,—in all +other cases the injury has to be borne by society. +For everything that seems to the individual to +be a wasted or blighted life, his entire burden of +discouragement, powerlessness, sickness, irritation, +covetousness, is attributed by him to society—and +thus a heavy, vitiated atmosphere is gradually +formed round society, or, in the most favourable +cases, a thundercloud. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>214.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>What Indulgence!</hi>—You suffer, and call +upon us to be indulgent towards you, even when +in your suffering you are unjust towards things and +men! But what does our indulgence matter! +You, however, should take greater precautions for +your own sake! That's a nice way of compensating +yourself for your sufferings, by imposing still further +suffering on your own judgment! Your own +revenge recoils upon yourselves when you start +reviling something: you dim your own eyes in this +way, and not the eyes of others; you accustom +yourself to looking at things in the wrong way, and +with a squint. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>215.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Morality of Victims.</hi>—<q>Enthusiastic +sacrifice,</q> <q>self-immolation</q>—these are the catch-words +of your morality, and I willingly believe that +<pb n='227'/><anchor id='Pg227'/> +you, as you say, <q>mean it honestly</q>: but I know +you better than you know yourselves, if your +<q>honesty</q> is capable of going arm in arm with such +a morality. You look down from the heights of this +morality upon that other sober morality which calls +for self-control, severity, and obedience; you even +go so far as to call it egoistic—and you are indeed +frank towards yourselves in saying that it displeases +you—it must displease you! For, in sacrificing +and immolating yourselves with such enthusiasm, +you delight in the intoxication of the thought that +you are now one with the powerful being, God or +man, to whom you are consecrating yourselves: +you revel in the feeling of his power, which is again +attested by this sacrifice. +</p> + +<p> +In reality, however, you only <emph>appear</emph> to sacrifice +yourselves; for your imagination turns you into +gods and you enjoy yourselves as such. Judged +from the point of view of this enjoyment, how poor +and feeble must that other <q>egoistic</q> morality of +obedience, duty, and reason seem to you: it is displeasing +to you because in this instance true self-sacrifice +and self-surrender are called for, without the +victim thinking himself to be transformed into a god, +as you do. In a word, you want intoxication and +excess, and this morality which you despise takes +up a stand against intoxication and excess—no +wonder it causes you some displeasure! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>216.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Evil People and Music.</hi>—Should the full +bliss of love, which consists in unlimited confidence, +<pb n='228'/><anchor id='Pg228'/> +ever have fallen to the lot of persons other than +those who are profoundly suspicious, evil, and bitter? +For such people enjoy in this bliss the gigantic, unlooked-for, +and incredible <emph>exception</emph> of their souls! +One day they are seized with that infinite, dreamy +sensation which is entirely opposed to the remainder +of their private and public life, like a +delicious enigma, full of golden splendour, and impossible +to be described by mere words or similes. +Implicit confidence makes them speechless—there +is even a species of suffering and heaviness in this +blissful silence; and this is why souls that are overcome +with happiness generally feel more grateful +to music than others and better ones do: for they +see and hear through music, as through a coloured +mist, their love becoming, as it were, more distant, +more touching, and less heavy. Music is the only +means that such people have of observing their +extraordinary condition and of becoming aware of +its presence with a feeling of estrangement and +relief. When the sound of music reaches the ears +of every lover he thinks: <q>It speaks of me, it +speaks in my stead; it knows everything!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>217.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Artist.</hi>—The Germans wish to be transported +by the artist into a state of dreamy +passion; by his aid the Italians wish to rest +from their real passions; the French wish him +to give them an opportunity of showing their +judgment and of making speeches. So let us +be just! +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='229'/><anchor id='Pg229'/> + +<div> +<head>218.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To deal like an Artist with One's Weaknesses.</hi>—If +we must positively have weaknesses +and come in the end to look upon them as laws +beyond ourselves, I wish that everybody may be +possessed of as much artistic capacity as will enable +him to set off his virtues by means of his weaknesses, +and to make us, through his weaknesses, +desirous of acquiring his virtues: a power which +great musicians have possessed in quite an exceptional +degree. How frequently do we notice in +Beethoven's music a coarse, dogmatic, and impatient +tone; in Mozart, the joviality of an honest +man, whose heart and mind have not overmuch to +give us; in Richard Wagner, an abrupt and aggressive +restlessness, in the midst of which, just as the +most patient listener is on the point of losing his +temper, the composer regains his powers, and likewise +the others. Through their very weaknesses, +these musicians have created in us an ardent desire +for their virtues, and have given us a palate which is +ten times more sensitive to every note of this tuneful +intellect, tuneful beauty, and tuneful goodness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>219.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Deceit in Humiliation.</hi>—By your foolishness +you have done a great wrong to your neighbour +and destroyed his happiness irretrievably—and +then, having overcome your vanity, you humble +yourself before him, surrender your foolishness to +his contempt, and fancy that, after this difficult +<pb n='230'/><anchor id='Pg230'/> +scene, which is an exceedingly painful one for you, +everything has been set right, that your own voluntary +loss of honour compensates your neighbour for +the injury you have done to his happiness. With +this feeling you take your leave comforted, believing +that your virtue has been re-established. +</p> + +<p> +Your neighbour, however, suffers as intensely as +before. He finds nothing to comfort him in the +fact that you have been irrational and have told +him so: on the contrary, he remembers the painful +appearance you presented to him when you were +disparaging yourself in his presence—it is as if +another wound had been inflicted on him. He +does not think of revenging himself, however; and +cannot conceive how a proper balance can be struck +between you and him. In point of fact, you have +been acting that scene for yourself and before +yourself: you invited a witness to be present, not +on his account, but on your own—don't deceive +yourself! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>220.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Dignity and Timidity.</hi>—Ceremonies, official +robes and court dresses, grave countenances, solemn +aspects, the slow pace, involved speech—everything, +in short, known as dignity—are all pretences +adopted by those who are timid at heart: they +wish to make themselves feared (themselves or the +things they represent). The fearless (<hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi> originally +those who naturally inspire others with awe) +have no need of dignity and ceremonies: they +bring into repute—or, still more, into ill-repute—honesty +and straightforward words and bearing, +<pb n='231'/><anchor id='Pg231'/> +as characteristics of their self-confident awefulness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>221.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Morality of Sacrifice.</hi>—The morality +which is measured by the spirit of sacrifice is that +of a semi-civilised state of society. Reason in this +instance gains a hard-fought and bloody victory +within the soul; for there are powerful contrary +instincts to be overcome. This cannot be brought +about without the cruelty which the sacrifices to +cannibal gods demand. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>222.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Where Fanaticism is to be Desired.</hi>—Phlegmatic +natures can be rendered enthusiastic +only by being fanaticised. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>223.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Dreaded Eye.</hi>—Nothing is dreaded more +by artists, poets, and writers than the eye which +sees through their little deceptions and subsequently +notices how often they have stopped at the boundary +where the paths branch off either to innocent delight +in themselves or to the straining after effect; the +eye which checks them when they try to sell little +things dear, or when they try to exalt and adorn +without being exalted themselves; the eye which, +despite all the artifices of their art, sees the thought +as it first presented itself to them, perhaps as a +charming vision of light, perhaps also, however, as +a theft from the whole world, or as an everyday +conception which they had to expand, contract, +<pb n='232'/><anchor id='Pg232'/> +colour, wrap up, and spice, in order to make something +out of it, instead of the thought making +something out of them.—Oh, this eye, which sees +in your work all your restlessness, inquisitiveness, +and covetousness, your imitation and exaggeration +(which is only envious imitation) which knows both +your blush of shame and your skill in concealing +it from others and interpreting it to yourselves! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>224.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The <q>Edifying</q> Element in our Neighbour's +Misfortune.</hi>—He is in distress, and +straightway the <q>compassionate</q> ones come to +him and depict his misfortune to him. At last they +go away again, satisfied and elevated, after having +gloated over the unhappy man's misfortune and +their own, and spent a pleasant Sunday afternoon. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>225.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To be quickly Despised.</hi>—A man who speaks +a great deal, and speaks quickly, soon sinks exceedingly +low in our estimation, even when he speaks +rationally—not only to the extent that he annoys +us personally, but far lower. For we conjecture +how great a burden he has already proved to many +other people, and we thus add to the discomfort +which he causes us all the contempt which we +presume he has caused to others. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>226.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Relations with Celebrities.</hi>—<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> But why +do you shun this great man?—<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> I should not like +<pb n='233'/><anchor id='Pg233'/> +to misunderstand him. Our defects are incompatible +with one another: I am short-sighted and +suspicious, and he wears his false diamonds as +willingly as his real ones. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>227.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Chain-Wearers.</hi>—Beware of all those +intellects which are bound in chains! clever women, +for example, who have been banished by fate to +narrow and dull surroundings, amid which they grow +old. True, there they lie in the sun, apparently +lazy and half-blind; but at every unknown step, at +everything unexpected, they start up to bite: they +revenge themselves on everything that has escaped +their kennel. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>228.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Revenge in Praise.</hi>—Here we have a written +page which is covered with praise, and you call it +flat; but when you find out that revenge is concealed +in this praise you will find it almost too subtle, +and you will experience a great deal of pleasure in +its numerous delicate and bold strokes and similes. +It is not the man himself, but his revenge, which is +so subtle, rich, and ingenious: he himself is scarcely +aware of it. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>229.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pride.</hi>—Ah, not one of you knows the feeling +of the tortured man after he has been put to the +torture, when he is being carried back to his cell, +and his secret with him!—he still holds it in a +stubborn and tenacious grip. What know ye of +the exultation of human pride? +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='234'/><anchor id='Pg234'/> + +<div> +<head>230.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><q>Utilitarian.</q></hi>—At the present time men's +sentiments on moral things run in such labyrinthic +paths that, while we demonstrate morality to one +man by virtue of its utility, we refute it to another +on account of this utility. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>231.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>On German Virtue.</hi>—How degenerate in its +taste, how servile to dignities, ranks, uniforms, pomp, +and splendour must a nation have been, when it +began to consider the simple as the bad, the simple +man (<foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>schlicht</foreign>) as the bad man (<foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>schlecht</foreign>)! We +should always oppose the moral bumptiousness of +the Germans with this one little word <q>bad,</q> and +nothing else. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>232.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>From a Dispute.</hi>—<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> Friend, you have talked +yourself hoarse.—<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> Then I am refuted, so let's +drop the subject. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>233.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The <q>Conscientious</q> Ones.</hi>—Have you +noticed the kind of men who attach the greatest +value to the most scrupulous conscientiousness? +Those who are conscious of many mean and petty +sentiments, who are anxiously thinking of and +about themselves, are afraid of others, and are +desirous of concealing their inmost feelings as far +as possible. They endeavour to impose upon +themselves by means of this strict conscientiousness +<pb n='235'/><anchor id='Pg235'/> +and rigorousness of duty, and by the stern and harsh +impression which others, especially their inferiors, +cannot fail to receive of them. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>234.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Dread of Fame.</hi>—<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> The endeavour to avoid +one's renown, the intentional offending of one's +panegyrists, the dislike of hearing opinions about +one's self, and all through fear of renown: instances +like these are to be met with; they actually +exist—believe it or not!—<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> They are found, +no doubt! They exist! A little patience, Sir +Arrogance! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>235.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Refusing Thanks.</hi>—We are perfectly justified +in refusing a request, but it is never right to refuse +thanks—or, what comes to the same thing, to accept +them coldly and conventionally. This gives deep +offence—and why? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>236.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Punishment.</hi>—A strange thing, this punishment +of ours! It does not purify the criminal; it +is not a form of expiation; but, on the contrary, it +is even more defiling than the crime itself. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>237.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Party Grievances.</hi>—In almost every party +there is a ridiculous, but nevertheless somewhat +dangerous grievance. The sufferers from it are +those who have long been the faithful and honourable +upholders of the doctrine propagated by the +<pb n='236'/><anchor id='Pg236'/> +party, and who suddenly remark that one day a +much stronger figure than themselves has got the +ear of the public. How can they bear being reduced +to silence? So they raise their voices, sometimes +changing their notes. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>238.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Striving for Gentleness.</hi>—When a vigorous +nature has not an inclination towards cruelty, and +is not always preoccupied with itself; it involuntarily +strives after gentleness—this is its distinctive +characteristic. Weak natures, on the other hand, +have a tendency towards harsh judgments—they +associate themselves with the heroes of the contempt +of mankind, the religious or philosophical traducers +of existence, or they take up their position behind +strict habits and punctilious <q>callings</q>: in this +way they seek to give themselves a character and a +kind of strength. This is likewise done quite involuntarily. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>239.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Hint to Moralists.</hi>—Our musicians have +made a great discovery. They have found out that +interesting ugliness is possible even in their art; +this is why they throw themselves with such enthusiastic +intoxication into this ocean of ugliness, +and never before has it been so easy to make music. +It is only now that we have got the general, +dark-coloured background, upon which every +luminous ray of fine music, however faint, seems +tinged with golden emerald lustre; it is only now +that we dare to inspire our audience with feelings +<pb n='237'/><anchor id='Pg237'/> +of impetuosity and indignation, taking away their +breath, so to speak, in order that we may afterwards, +in an interval of restful harmony, inspire them with +a feeling of bliss which will be to the general +advantage of a proper appreciation of music. +</p> + +<p> +We have discovered the contrast: it is only now +that the strongest effects are possible—and cheap. +No one bothers any more about good music. But +you must hurry up! When any art has once made +this discovery, it has but a short space of time to +live.—Oh, if only our thinkers could probe into the +depths of the souls of our musicians when listening +to their music! How long we must wait until we +again have an opportunity of surprising the inward +man in the very act of his evil doing, and his innocence +of this act! For our musicians have not +the slightest suspicion that it is their own history, +the history of the disfigurement of the soul, which +they are transposing into music. In former times +a good musician was almost forced by the exigencies +of his art to become a good man—and now! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>240.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Morality of the Stage.</hi>—The man who +imagines that the effect of Shakespeare's plays is a +moral one, and that the sight of Macbeth irresistibly +induces us to shun the evil of ambition, is mistaken, +and he is mistaken once more if he believes +that Shakespeare himself thought so. He who is +truly obsessed by an ardent ambition takes delight +in beholding this picture of himself; and when the +hero is driven to destruction by his passion, this is +<pb n='238'/><anchor id='Pg238'/> +the most pungent spice in the hot drink of this delight. +Did the poet feel this in another way? How +royally and with how little of the knave in him does +his ambitious hero run his course from the moment +of his great crime! It is only from this moment that +he becomes <q>demoniacally</q> attractive, and that he +encourages similar natures to imitate him.—There +is something demoniacal here: something which is +in revolt against advantage and life, in favour of a +thought and an impulse. Do you think that Tristan +and Isolde are warnings against adultery, merely +because adultery has resulted in the death of both +of them? This would be turning poets upside down, +these poets who, especially Shakespeare, are in love +with the passions in themselves, and not less so +with the readiness for death which they give rise to: +this mood in which the heart no more clings to life +than a drop of water does to the glass. It is not +the guilt and its pernicious consequences which +interests these poets—Shakespeare as little as +Sophocles (in the <hi rend='italic'>Ajax</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Philoctetes</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Œdipus</hi>)—however +easy it might have been in the cases just +mentioned to make the guilt the lever of the play, +it was carefully avoided by the poets. +</p> + +<p> +In the same way the tragic poet by his images +of life does not wish to set us against life. On +the contrary, he exclaims; <q>It is the charm of +charms, this exciting, changing, and dangerous +existence of ours, so often gloomy and so often +bathed in sun! Life is an adventure—whichever +side you may take in life it will always retain this +character!</q>—Thus speaks the poet of a restless and +vigorous age, an age which is almost intoxicated and +<pb n='239'/><anchor id='Pg239'/> +stupefied by its superabundance of blood and energy, +in an age more evil than our own: and this is why +it is necessary for us to adapt and accommodate +ourselves first to the purpose of a Shakespearian +play, that is, by misunderstanding it. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>241.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Fear and Intelligence.</hi>—If that which is +now expressly maintained is true, viz. that the +cause of the black pigment of the skin must not be +sought in light, might this phenomenon perhaps be +the ultimate effect of frequent fits of passion accumulated +for century after century (and an afflux +of blood under the skin)? while in other and more +intelligent races the equally frequent spasms of +fear and blanching may have resulted in the white +colour of the skin?—For the degree of timidity is +the standard by which the intelligence may be +measured; and the fact that men give themselves +up to blind anger is an indication that their animal +nature is still near the surface, and is longing for an +opportunity to make its presence felt once more. +Thus a brownish-grey would probably be the +primitive colour of man—something of the ape and +the bear, as is only proper. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>242.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Independence.</hi>—Independence (which in its +weakest form is called <q>freedom of thought</q>) is +the type of resignation which the tyrannical man +ends by accepting—he who for a long time had +<pb n='240'/><anchor id='Pg240'/> +been looking for something to govern, but without +finding anything except himself. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>243.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The two Courses.</hi>—When we endeavour to +examine the mirror in itself we discover in the end +that we can detect nothing there but the things +which it reflects. If we wish to grasp the things +reflected we touch nothing in the end but the +mirror.—This is the general history of knowledge. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>244.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Delight in Reality.</hi>—Our present inclination +to take delight in reality—for almost every one of +us possesses it—can only be explained by the fact +that we have taken delight in the unreal for such +a long time that we have got tired of it. This +inclination in its present form, without choice and +without refinement, is not without danger—its least +danger is its want of taste. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>245.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Subtlety of the Feeling of Power.</hi>—Napoleon +was greatly mortified at the fact that he +could not speak well, and he did not deceive himself +in this respect: but his thirst for power, which +never despised the slightest opportunity of showing +itself, and which was still more subtle than his subtle +intellect, led him to speak even worse than he might +have done. It was in this way that he revenged +himself upon his own mortification (he was jealous +<pb n='241'/><anchor id='Pg241'/> +of all his emotions because they possessed power) +in order to enjoy his autocratic pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +He enjoyed this pleasure a second time in respect +to the ears and judgment of his audience, as if it +were good enough for them to be addressed in this +way. He even secretly enjoyed the thought of +bewildering their judgment and good taste by the +thunder and lightning of his highest authority—that +authority which lies in the union of power and +genius—while both his judgment and his good taste +held fast proudly and indifferently to the truth that +he did not speak well.—Napoleon, as the complete +and fully developed type of a single instinct, belongs +to ancient humanity, whose characteristic—the +simple construction and ingenious development and +realisation of a single motive or a small number of +motives—may be easily enough recognised. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>246.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Aristotle and Marriage.</hi>—Insanity makes +its appearance in the children of great geniuses, and +stupidity in those of the most virtuous—so says +Aristotle. Did he mean by this to invite exceptional +men to marry? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>247.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Origin of a bad Temperament.</hi>—Injustice +and instability in the minds of certain men, +their disordered and immoderate manner, are the +ultimate consequences of the innumerable logical +inexactitudes, superficialities, and hasty conclusions +of which their ancestors have been guilty. Men of +a good temperament, on the other hand, are descended +<pb n='242'/><anchor id='Pg242'/> +from solid and meditative races which have +set a high value upon reason—whether for praiseworthy +or evil purposes is of no great importance. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>248.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Dissimulation as a Duty.</hi>—Kindness has +been best developed by the long dissimulation which +endeavoured to appear as kindness: wherever great +power existed the necessity for dissimulation of +this nature was recognised—it inspires security +and confidence, and multiplies the actual sum of +our physical power. Falsehood, if not actually +the mother, is at all events the nurse of kindness. +In the same way, honesty has been brought +to maturity by the need for a semblance of +honesty and integrity: in hereditary aristocracies. +The persistent exercise of such a dissimulation ends +by bringing about the actual nature of the thing +itself: the dissimulation in the long run suppresses +itself, and organs and instincts are the unexpected +fruits in this garden of hypocrisy. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>249.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Who, then, is ever Alone.</hi>—The faint-hearted +wretch does not know what it means to be +lonely. An enemy is always prowling in his tracks. +Oh, for the man who could give us the history of +that subtle feeling called loneliness! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>250.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Night and Music.</hi>—It was only at night time, +and in the semi-obscurity of dark forests and +caverns, that the ear, the organ of fear, was able to +<pb n='243'/><anchor id='Pg243'/> +develop itself so well, in accordance with the mode +of living of the timid—that is, the longest human +epoch which has ever yet existed: when it is clear daylight +the ear is less necessary. Hence the character +of music, which is an art of night and twilight. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>251.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Stoical.</hi>—The Stoic experiences a certain sense +of cheerfulness when he feels oppressed by the +ceremonial which he has prescribed for himself: +he enjoys himself then as a ruler. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>252.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Consider.</hi>—The man who is being punished is +no longer he who has done the deed. He is always +the scapegoat. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>253.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Appearance.</hi>—Alas! what must be best and +most resolutely proved is appearance itself; for +only too many people lack eyes to observe it. +But it is so tiresome! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>254.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Those who Anticipate.</hi>—What distinguishes +poetic natures, but is also a danger for them, is their +imagination, which exhausts itself in advance: +which anticipates what will happen or what may +happen, which enjoys and suffers in advance, and +which at the final moment of the event or the action +is already fatigued. Lord Byron, who was only +too familiar with this, wrote in his diary: <q>If ever +<pb n='244'/><anchor id='Pg244'/> +I have a son he shall choose a very prosaic profession—that +of a lawyer or a pirate.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>255.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Conversation on Music.</hi>— +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> What do you say to that music? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> It has overpowered me, I can say nothing +about it. Listen! there it is beginning again. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> All the better! This time let us do our best +to overpower it. Will you allow me to add a few +words to this music? and also to show you a drama +which perhaps at your first hearing you did not wish +to observe? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> Very well, I have two ears and even more if +necessary; move up closer to me. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> We have not yet heard what he wishes to +say to us, up to the present he has only promised +to say something—something as yet unheard, so he +gives us to understand by his gestures, for they are +gestures. How he beckons! How he raises himself +up! How he gesticulates! and now the moment +of supreme tension seems to have come to him: +two more fanfares, and he will present us with his +superb and splendidly-adorned theme, rattling, as +it were, with precious stones. +</p> + +<p> +Is it a handsome woman? or a beautiful horse? +Enough, he looks about him as if enraptured, for +he must assemble looks of rapture. It is only now +that his theme quite pleases him: it is only now +that he becomes inventive and risks new and +audacious features. How he forces out his theme! +Ah, take care!—he not only understands how to +<pb n='245'/><anchor id='Pg245'/> +adorn, but also how to gloss it over! Yes, he knows +what the colour of health is, and he knows how to +make it up,—he is more subtle in his self-consciousness +than I thought. And now he is convinced that +he has convinced his hearers; he sets off his impromptus +as if they were the most important things +under the sun: he points to his theme with an +insolent finger as if it were too good for this world.—Ah, +how distrustful he is! He is afraid we may +get tired!—that is why he buries his melody in +sweet notes.—Now he even appeals to our coarser +senses that he may excite us and thus get us once +again into his power. Listen to him as he conjures +up the elementary force of tempestuous and +thundering rhythms! +</p> + +<p> +And now that he sees that these things have +captivated our attention, strangle us, and almost +overwhelm us, he once again ventures to introduce +his theme amidst this play of the elements in order +to convince us, confused and agitated as we are, that +our confusion and agitation are the effects of his +miraculous theme. And from now onwards his +hearers believe in him: as soon as the theme is +heard once more they are reminded of its thrilling +elementary effects. The theme profits by this recollection—now +it has become demoniacal! What +a connoisseur of the soul he is! He gains command +over us by all the artifices of the popular orator. +But the music has stopped again. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> And I am glad of it; for I could no longer +bear listening to your observations! I should prefer +ten times over to let myself be deceived to knowing +the truth once after your version. +</p> + +<pb n='246'/><anchor id='Pg246'/> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> That is just what I wished to hear from you. +The best people now are just like you: you are +quite content to let yourselves be deceived. You +come here with coarse, lustful ears, and you do not +bring with you your conscience of the art of listening. +On the way here you have cast away your +intellectual honesty, and thus you corrupt both art +and artists. Whenever you applaud and cheer +you have in your hands the conscience of the +artists—and woe to art if they get to know +that you cannot distinguish between innocent and +guilty music! I do not indeed refer to <q>good</q> +and <q>bad</q> music—we meet with both in the two +kinds of music mentioned! but I call innocent +music that which thinks only of itself and believes +only in itself, and which on account of itself +has forgotten the world at large—this spontaneous +expression of the most profound solitude which +speaks of itself and with itself, and has entirely forgotten +that there are listeners, effects, misunderstandings +and failures in the world outside. In +short, the music which we have just heard is precisely +of this rare and noble type; and everything +I said about it was a fable—pardon my little trick +if you will! +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> Oh, then you like <emph>this</emph> music, too? In that +case many sins shall be forgiven you! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>256.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Happiness of the Evil Ones.</hi>—These +silent, gloomy, and evil men possess a peculiar something +which you cannot dispute with them—an +<pb n='247'/><anchor id='Pg247'/> +uncommon and strange enjoyment in the <foreign rend='italic'>dolce far +niente</foreign>; a sunset and evening rest, such as none can +enjoy but a heart which has been too often devoured, +lacerated, and poisoned by the passions. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>257.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Words Present in our Minds.</hi>—We always +express our thoughts with those words which lie +nearest to hand. Or rather, if I may reveal my +full suspicion; at every moment we have only the +particular thought for the words that are present in +our minds. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>258.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Flattering the Dog.</hi>—You have only to +stroke this dog's coat once, and he immediately +splutters and gives off sparks like any other flatterer—and +he is witty in his own way. Why should +we not endure him thus? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>259.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Quondam Panegyrist.</hi>—<q>He has now +become silent now in regard to me, although he +knows the truth and could tell it; but it would sound +like vengeance—and he values truth so highly, this +honourable man!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>260.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Amulet of Dependent Men.</hi>—He who +is unavoidably dependent upon some master ought to +possess something by which he can inspire his master +with fear, and keep him in check: integrity, for +example, or probity, or an evil tongue. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='248'/><anchor id='Pg248'/> + +<div> +<head>261.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Why so Sublime!</hi>—Oh, I know them well this +breed of animals! Certainly it pleases them better +to walk on two legs <q>like a god</q>—but it pleases +me better when they fall back on their four feet. +This is incomparably more natural for them! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>262.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Demon of Power.</hi>—Neither necessity +nor desire, but the love of power, is the demon of +mankind. You may give men everything possible—health, +food, shelter, enjoyment—but they are and +remain unhappy and capricious, for the demon waits +and waits; and must be satisfied. Let everything +else be taken away from men, and let this demon +be satisfied, and then they will nearly be happy—as +happy as men and demons can be; but why do I +repeat this? Luther has already said it, and better +than I have done, in the verses: +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<lg> +<l><q rend='pre'>And though they take our life,</q></l> +<l>Goods, honour, children, wife,</l> +<l>Yet is their profit small,</l> +<l>These things shall vanish all,</l> +<l><q rend='post'>The Kingdom it remaineth.</q></l> +</lg> +</quote> + +<p> +The Kingdom! there it is again!<note place='foot'>A hit at the German Empire, which Nietzsche always +despised, since it led to the utter extinction of the old German +spirit. <q>Kingdom</q> (in <q>Kingdom of God</q>) and <q>Empire</q> +are both represented by the one German word <foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Reich</foreign>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>263.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Contradiction Incarnate and Animated.</hi>—There +is a physiological contradiction in what is +<pb n='249'/><anchor id='Pg249'/> +called genius: genius possesses on the one hand a +great deal of savage disorder and involuntary movement, +and on the other hand a great deal of superior +activity in this movement. Joined to this a genius +possesses a mirror which reflects the two movements +beside one another, and within one another, but +often opposed to one another. Genius in consequence +of this sight is often unhappy, and if it feels +its greatest happiness in creating, it is because it forgets +that precisely then, with the highest determinate +activity, it does something fantastic and irrational +(such is all art) and cannot help doing it. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>264.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Deceiving One's Self.</hi>—Envious men with a +discriminating intuition endeavour not to become +too closely acquainted with their rivals in order that +they may feel themselves superior to them. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>265.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>There is a Time for the Theatre.</hi>—When +the imagination of a people begins to diminish, there +arises the desire to have its legends represented on +the stage: it then tolerates the coarse substitutes +for imagination. In the age of the epic rhapsodist, +however, the theatre itself, and the actor dressed +up as a hero, form an obstacle in the path of the +imagination instead of acting as wings for it—too +near, too definite, too heavy, and with too +little of dreamland and the flights of birds about +them. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='250'/><anchor id='Pg250'/> + +<div> +<head>266.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Without Charm.</hi>—He lacks charm and knows +it. Ah, how skilful he is in masking this defect! +He does it by a strict virtue, gloomy looks, and +acquired distrust of all men, and of existence itself; +by coarse jests, by contempt for a more refined +manner of living, by pathos and pretensions, and by +a cynical philosophy—yea, he has even developed +into a character through the continual knowledge +of his deficiency. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>267.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Why so Proud?</hi>—A noble character is distinguished +from a vulgar one by the fact that the latter +has not at ready command a certain number of +habits and points of view like the former: fate willed +that they should not be his either by inheritance or +by education. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>268.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Orator's Scylla and Charybdis.</hi>—How +difficult it was in Athens to speak in such a +way as to win over the hearers to one's cause without +repelling them at the same time by the form in +which one's speech was cast, or withdrawing their +attention from the cause itself by this form! How +difficult it still is to write thus in France! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>269.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Sick People and Art.</hi>—For all kinds of sadness +and misery of soul we should first of all try +<pb n='251'/><anchor id='Pg251'/> +a change of diet and severe manual labour; but in +such cases men are in the habit of having recourse +to mental intoxicants, to art for example—which is +both to their own detriment and that of art! Can +you not see that when you call for art as sick people +you make the artists themselves sick? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>270.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Apparent Toleration.</hi>—Those are good, +benevolent, and rational words on and in favour of +science, but, alas! I see behind these words your +toleration of science. In a corner of your inmost +mind you think, in spite of all you say, that <emph>it is +not necessary for you</emph>, that it shows magnanimity on +your part to admit and even to advocate it, more +especially as science on its part does not exhibit +this magnanimity in regard to your opinion! Do +you know that you have no right whatever to exercise +this toleration? that this condescension of yours +is an even coarser disparagement of science than +any of that open scorn which a presumptuous priest +or artist might allow himself to indulge in towards +science? What is lacking in you is a strong sense +for everything that is true and actual, you do not +feel grieved and worried to find that science is in +contradiction to your own sentiments, you are unacquainted +with that intense desire for knowledge +ruling over you like a law, you do not feel a duty +in the need of being present with your own eyes +wherever knowledge exists, and to let nothing that +is <q>known</q> escape you. You do not know that +which you are treating with such toleration! and +<pb n='252'/><anchor id='Pg252'/> +it is only because you do not know it that you can +succeed in adopting such a gracious attitude towards +it. You, forsooth, would look upon science with +hatred and fanaticism if it for once cast its shining +and illuminating glance upon you! What does it +matter to us, then, if you do exhibit toleration—and +towards a phantom! and not even towards us!—and +what do we matter! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>271.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Festive Moods.</hi>—It is exactly those men who +aspire most ardently towards power who feel it indescribably +agreeable to be overpowered! to sink +suddenly and deeply into a feeling as into a whirlpool! +To suffer the reins to be snatched out of +their hand, and to watch a movement which takes +them they know not where! Whatever or whoever +may be the person or thing that renders us +this service, it is nevertheless a great service: we +are so happy and breathless, and feel around us +an exceptional silence, as if we were in the most +central bowels of the earth. To be for once entirely +powerless! the plaything of the elementary forces +of nature! There is a restfulness in this happiness, +a casting away of the great burden, a descent +without fatigue, as if one had been given up to the +blind force of gravity. +</p> + +<p> +This is the dream of the mountain climber, who, +although he sees his goal far above him, nevertheless +falls asleep on the way from utter exhaustion, +and dreams of the happiness of the contrast—this +effortless rolling down hill. I describe happiness +<pb n='253'/><anchor id='Pg253'/> +as I imagine it to be in our present-day society, +the badgered, ambitious society of Europe and +America. Now and then they <emph>wish</emph> to fall back +into impotence—this enjoyment is offered them +by wars, arts, religions, and geniuses. When a man +has temporarily abandoned himself to a momentary +impression which devours and crushes everything—and +this is the modern festive mood—he +afterwards becomes freer, colder, more refreshed, +and more strict, and again strives tirelessly after +the contrary of all this: power. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<anchor id='Sect_272'/> +<head>272.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Purification of Races.</hi>—It is probable +that there are no pure races, but only races which +have become purified, and even these are extremely +rare.<note place='foot'>This sentence is a complete refutation of a book which +caused so much stir in Germany about a decade ago, and in +England quite recently, Chamberlain's <hi rend='italic'>Nineteenth Century</hi>, +in which a purely imaginary Teutonic race is held up as +the Chosen People of the world. Nietzsche says elsewhere, +<q>Peoples and Countries,</q> aphorism 21, <q>Associate with no +man who takes part in the mendacious race-swindle.</q>—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> We more often meet with crossed races, +among whom, together with the defects in the harmony +of the bodily forms (for example when the +eyes do not accord with the mouth) we necessarily +always find defects of harmony in habits and appreciations. +(Livingstone heard some one say, <q>God +created white and black men, but the devil created +the half-castes.</q>) +</p> + +<p> +Crossed races are always at the same time crossed +<pb n='254'/><anchor id='Pg254'/> +cultures and crossed moralities: they are, as a rule, +more evil, cruel, and restless. Purity is the final +result of innumerable adjustments, absorptions, and +eliminations; and progress towards purity in a race +is shown by the fact that the latent strength in the +race is more and more restricted to a few special +functions, whilst it formerly had to carry out too +many and often contradictory things. Such a restriction +will always have the appearance of an +impoverishment, and must be judged with prudence +and moderation. In the long run, however, when the +process of purification has come to a successful termination, +all those forces which were formerly wasted +in the struggle between the disharmonious qualities +are at the disposal of the organism as a whole, and this +is why purified races have always become stronger +and more beautiful.—The Greeks may serve us as +a model of a purified race and culture!—and it is +to be hoped that some day a pure European race +and culture may arise. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>273.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Praise.</hi>—Here is some one who, you perceive, +wishes to praise you: you bite your lips +and brace up your heart: Oh, that <emph>that</emph> cup +might go hence! But it does not, it comes! +let us therefore drink the sweet impudence of the +panegyrist, let us overcome the disgust and profound +contempt that we feel for the innermost +substance of his praise, let us assume a look of +thankful joy—for he wished to make himself agreeable +to us! And now that it is all over we know +<pb n='255'/><anchor id='Pg255'/> +that he feels greatly exalted; he has been victorious +over us. Yes, and also over himself, the villain!—for +it was no easy matter for him to wring this +praise from himself. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>274.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Rights and Privileges of Man.</hi>—We +human beings are the only creatures who, when +things do not go well with us, can blot ourselves +out like a clumsy sentence,—whether we do so out +of honour for humanity or pity for it, or on account +of the aversion we feel towards ourselves. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>275.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Transformed Being.</hi>—Now he becomes +virtuous; but only for the sake of hurting others +by being so. Don't pay so much attention to him. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>276.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How Often! How Unexpected!</hi>—How may +married men have some morning awakened to the +fact that their young wife is dull, although she +thinks quite the contrary! not to speak of those +wives whose flesh is willing but whose intellect +is weak! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>277.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Warm and Cold Virtues.</hi>—Courage is sometimes +the consequence of cold and unshaken resolution, +and at other times of a fiery and reckless +élan. For these two kinds of courage there is only +the one name!—but how different, nevertheless, +<pb n='256'/><anchor id='Pg256'/> +are cold virtues and warm virtues! and the man +would be a fool who could suppose that <q>goodness</q> +could only be brought about by warmth, +and no less a fool he who would only attribute it +to cold. The truth is that mankind has found +both warm and cold courage very useful, yet not +often enough to prevent it from setting them both +in the category of precious stones. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>278.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The gracious Memory.</hi>—A man of high rank +will do well to develop a gracious memory, that +is, to note all the good qualities of people and remember +them particularly; for in this way he holds +them in an agreeable dependence. A man may also +act in this way towards himself: whether or not he +has a gracious memory determines in the end the +superiority, gentleness, or distrust with which he observes +his own inclinations and intentions, and finally +even the nature of these inclinations and intentions. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>279.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Wherein we become Artists.</hi>—He who +makes an idol of some one endeavours to justify +himself in his own eyes by idealising this person: +in other words, he becomes an artist that he may +have a clear conscience. When he suffers he does +not suffer from his ignorance, but from the lie he +has told himself to make himself ignorant. The +inmost misery and desire of such a man—and all +passionate lovers are included in this category—cannot +be exhausted by normal means. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='257'/><anchor id='Pg257'/> + +<div> +<head>280.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Childlike.</hi>—Those who live like children—those +who have not to struggle for their daily +bread, and do not think that their actions have +any ultimate signification—remain childlike. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>281.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Our Ego desires Everything.</hi>—It would +seem as if men in general were only inspired by the +desire to possess: languages at least would permit +of this supposition, for they view past actions from +the standpoint that we have been put in possession +of something—<q>I <emph>have</emph> spoken, struggled, conquered</q>—as +if to say, I am now in possession of +my word, my struggle, my victory. How greedy +man appears in this light! he cannot even let the +past escape him: he even wishes to <emph>have</emph> it still! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>282.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Danger in Beauty.</hi>—This woman is beautiful +and intelligent: alas, how much more intelligent she +would have become if she had not been beautiful! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>283.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Domestic and Mental Peace.</hi>—Our habitual +mood depends upon the mood in which we maintain +our habitual entourage. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>284.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>New Things as Old Ones.</hi>—Many people +seem irritated when something new is told them: +<pb n='258'/><anchor id='Pg258'/> +they feel the ascendancy which the news has given +to the person who has learnt it first. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>285.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>What are the Limits of the Ego.</hi>—The +majority of people take under their protection, as +it were, something that they know, as if the fact +of knowing it was sufficient in itself to make it +their property. The acquisitiveness of the egoistic +feeling has no limits: Great men speak as if they +had behind them the whole of time, and had +placed themselves at the head of this enormous +host; and good women boast of the beauty of their +children, their clothes, their dog, their physician, +or their native town, but the only thing they dare +not say is, <q>I am all that.</q> <foreign lang='it' rend='italic'>Chi non ha non è</foreign>—as +they say in Italy. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>286.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Domestic Animals, Pets and the Like.</hi>—Could +there be anything more repugnant than the +sentimentality which is shown to plants and animals—and +this on the part of a creature who from the +very beginning has made such ravages among +them as their most ferocious enemy,—and who +ends by even claiming affectionate feelings from his +weakened and mutilated victims! Before this kind +of <q>nature</q> man must above all be serious, if he +is any sort of a thinking being. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>287.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Two Friends.</hi>—They were friends once, but +now they have ceased to be so, and both of them +<pb n='259'/><anchor id='Pg259'/> +broke off the friendship at the same time, the one +because he believed himself to be too greatly misunderstood, +and the other because he thought he +was known too intimately—and both were wrong! +For neither of them knew himself well enough. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>288.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Comedy of the Noble Souls.</hi>—Those +who cannot succeed in exhibiting a noble and cordial +familiarity endeavour to let the nobleness of their +nature be seen by their exercise of reserve and +strictness, and a certain contempt for familiarity, +as if their strong sense of confidence were ashamed +to show itself. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>289.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Where we may say Nothing against +Virtue.</hi>—Among cowards it is thought bad form +to say anything against bravery, for any expression +of this kind would give rise to some contempt; +and unfeeling people are irritated when anything +is said against pity.<note place='foot'>The fiercest protests against Nietzsche's teaching even +now come from the <q>unfeeling people.</q> Hence the difficulty—now +happily past—of introducing him into Anglo-Saxon +countries.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>290.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Waste.</hi>—We find that with irritable and +abrupt people their first words and actions generally +afford no indication of their actual character—they +are prompted by circumstances, and are to some +<pb n='260'/><anchor id='Pg260'/> +extent simply reproductions of the spirit of these +circumstances. Because, however, as the words +have been uttered and the deeds done, the subsequent +words and deeds, indicating the real nature of such +people, have often to be used to reconcile, amend, +or extinguish the former. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>291.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Arrogance.</hi>—Arrogance is an artificial and +simulated pride; but it is precisely the essential +nature of pride to be incapable of artifice, simulation, +or hypocrisy—and thus arrogance is the +hypocrisy of the incapacity for hypocrisy, a very +difficult thing, and one which is a failure in most +cases. But if we suppose that, as most frequently +happens, the presumptuous person betrays himself, +then a treble annoyance falls to his lot: people +are angry with him because he has endeavoured to +deceive them, and because he wished to show himself +superior to them, and finally they laugh at him +because he failed in both these endeavours. How +earnestly, therefore, should we dissuade our fellow-men +from arrogance! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>292.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Species of Misconception.</hi>—When we hear +somebody speak it is often sufficient for his pronunciation +of a single consonant (the letter r, for +example) to fill us with doubts as to the honesty +of his feelings: we are not accustomed to this +particular pronunciation, and should have to make +it ourselves as it were arbitrarily—it sounds <q>forced</q> +<pb n='261'/><anchor id='Pg261'/> +to us. This is the domain of the greatest possible +misconception: and it is the same with the style +of a writer who has certain habits which are not the +habits of everybody. His <q>artlessness</q> is felt as +such only by himself, and precisely in regard to that +which he himself feels to be <q>forced</q> (because he +has yielded in this matter to the prevailing fashion +and to so called <q>good taste</q>), he may perhaps +give pleasure and inspire confidence. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>293.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Thankful.</hi>—One superfluous grain of gratitude +and piety makes one suffer as from a vice—in +spite of all one's independence and honesty one +begins to have a bad conscience. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>294.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Saints.</hi>—It is the most sensual men who find +it necessary to avoid women and to torture their +bodies. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>295.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Subtlety of Serving.</hi>—One of the most +subtle tasks in the great art of serving is that of +serving a more than usually ambitious man, who, +indeed, is excessively egoistic in all things, but is +entirely adverse to being thought so (this is part +of his ambition). He requires that everything shall +be according to his own will and humour, yet in +such a way as to give him the appearance of always +having sacrificed himself, and of rarely desiring +anything for himself alone. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='262'/><anchor id='Pg262'/> + +<div> +<head>296.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Duelling.</hi>—I think it a great advantage, said +some one, to be able to fight a duel—if, of course, +it is absolutely necessary; for I have at all times +brave companions about me. The duel is the last +means of thoroughly honourable suicide left to us; +but it is unfortunately a circuitous means, and not +even a certain one. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>297.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pernicious.</hi>—A young man can be most surely +corrupted when he is taught to value the like-minded +more highly than the differently minded. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>298.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Hero-Worship and its Fanatics.</hi>—The +fanatic of an ideal that possesses flesh and blood +is right as a rule so long as he assumes a negative +attitude, and he is terrible in his negation: he +knows what he denies as well as he knows himself, +for the simple reason that he comes thence, that he +feels at home there, and that he has always the +secret fear of being forced to return there some +day. He therefore wishes to make his return impossible +by the manner of his negation. As soon +as he begins to affirm, however, he partly shuts his +eyes and begins to idealise (frequently merely for +the sake of annoying those who have stayed at +home). We might say that there was something +artistic about this—agreed, but there is also something +dishonest about it. +</p> + +<pb n='263'/><anchor id='Pg263'/> + +<p> +The idealist of a person imagines this person to +be so far from him that he can no longer see him +distinctly, and then he travesties that which he can +just perceive into something <q>beautiful</q>—that is +to say, symmetrical, vaguely outlined, uncertain. +Since he wishes to worship from afar that ideal +which floats on high in the distance, he finds +it essential to build a temple for the object of +his worship as a protection from the <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>profanum +vulgus</foreign>. He brings into this temple for the object +of his worship all the venerable and sanctified objects +which he still possesses, so that his ideal may benefit +by their charm, and that, nourished in this way, it +may grow more and more divine. In the end he +really succeeds in forming his God, but, alas for +him! there is some one who knows how all this +has been done, viz. his intellectual conscience; and +there is also some one who, quite unconsciously, +begins to protest against these things, viz. the +deified one himself, who, in consequence of all this +worship, praise, and incense, now becomes completely +unbearable and shows himself in the most +obvious and dreadful manner to be non-divine, and +only too human. +</p> + +<p> +In a case like this there is only one means of +escape left for such a fanatic; he patiently suffers +himself and his fellows to be maltreated, and interprets +all this misery <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>in maiorem dei gloriam</foreign> by a +new kind of self-deceit and noble falsehood. He +takes up a stand against himself, and in doing so +experiences, as an interpreter and ill-treated person, +something like martyrdom—and in this way he +climbs to the height of his conceit. Men of this +<pb n='264'/><anchor id='Pg264'/> +kind to be found, for example, in the entourage of +Napoleon: indeed, perhaps it may have been he who +inspired the soul of his century with that romantic +prostration in the presence of the <q>genius</q> and the +<q>hero,</q> which was so foreign to the spirit of rationalism +of the nineteenth century—a man about whom +even Byron was not ashamed to say that he was +a <q>worm compared with such a being.</q> (The +formulæ of this prostration have been discovered by +Thomas Carlyle, that arrogant old muddle-head and +grumbler, who spent his long life in trying to romanticise +the common sense of his Englishmen: +but in vain!) +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>299.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Appearance of Heroism.</hi>—Throwing +ourselves in the midst of our enemies may be a +sign of cowardice. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>300.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Condescending towards the Flatterer.</hi>—It +is the ultimate prudence of insatiably ambitious +men not only to conceal their contempt for +man which the sight of flatterers causes them: but +also to appear even condescending to them, like a +God who can be nothing if not condescending. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>301.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><q>Strength of Character.</q></hi>—<q>What I have +said once I will do</q>—This manner of thinking is +believed to indicate great strength of character. +<pb n='265'/><anchor id='Pg265'/> +How many actions are accomplished, not because +they have been selected as being the most rational, +but because at the moment when we thought of +them they influenced our ambition and vanity by +some means or another, so that we do not stop +until we have blindly carried them out. Thus they +strengthen in us our belief in our character and +our good conscience, in short our strength; whilst +the choice of the most rational acts possible brings +about a certain amount of scepticism towards ourselves, +and thus encourages a sense of weakness in us. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>302.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Once, Twice, and Thrice True.</hi>—Men lie +unspeakably and often, but they do not think about +it afterwards, and generally do not believe in it. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>303.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Pastime of the Psychologist.</hi>—He +thinks he knows me, and fancies himself to be +subtle and important when he has any kind of relations +with me; and I take care not to undeceive +him. For in such a case I should suffer for it, +while now he wishes me well because I arouse +in him a feeling of conscious superiority.—There +is another, who fears that I think I know him, +and feels a sense of inferiority at this. As a +result he behaves in a timid and vacillating manner, +in my presence, and endeavours to mislead me +in regard to himself so that he may regain an +ascendancy over me. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='266'/><anchor id='Pg266'/> + +<div> +<head>304.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Destroyers of the World.</hi>—When +some men fail to accomplish what they desire to +do they exclaim angrily, <q>May the whole world +perish!</q> This odious feeling is the height of envy +which reasons thus: because I cannot have one +thing the whole world in general must have nothing! +the whole world shall not exist! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>305.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Greed.</hi>—When we set out to buy something our +greed increases with the cheapness of the object—Why? +Is it because the small differences in price +make up the little eye of greed? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>306.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Greek Ideal.</hi>—What did the Greeks admire +in Ulysses? Above all his capacity for lying +and for taking a shrewd and dreadful revenge, his +being equal to circumstances, his appearing to +be nobler than the noblest when necessary, his +ability to be everything he desired, his heroic +pertinacity, having all means within his command, +possessing genius—the genius of Ulysses is an +object of the admiration of the gods, they smile +when they think of it—all this is the Greek ideal! +What is most remarkable about it is that the contradiction +between seeming and being was not felt +in any way, and that as a consequence it could not +be morally estimated. Were there ever such accomplished +actors? +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='267'/><anchor id='Pg267'/> + +<div> +<head>307.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Facta! Yes, Facta Ficta!</hi>—The historian +need not concern himself with events which have +actually happened, but only those which are +supposed to have happened; for none but the latter +have produced an effect. The same remark applies +to the imaginary heroes. His theme—this so-called +world-history—what is it but opinions on imaginary +actions and their imaginary motives, which +in their turn give rise to opinions and actions +the reality of which, however, is at once evaporated, +and is only effective as vapour,—a continual generating +and impregnating of phantoms above the +dense mists of unfathomable reality. All historians +record things which have never existed, except in +imagination. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>308.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Not to understand Trade is Noble.</hi>—To +sell one's virtue only at the highest price, or +even to carry on usury with it as a teacher, a +civil servant, or an artist, for instance, brings genius +and talent down to the level of the common tradesman. +We must be careful not to be clever with +our wisdom! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>309.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Fear and Love.</hi>—The general knowledge of +mankind has been furthered to a greater extent by +fear than by love; for fear endeavours to find out +who the other is, what he can do, and what he +wants: it would be dangerous and prejudicial to +<pb n='268'/><anchor id='Pg268'/> +be deceived on this point. On the other hand, +love is induced by its secret craving to discover +as many beautiful qualities as possible in the +loved object, or to raise this loved object as +high as possible: it is a joy and an advantage +to love to be deceived in this way—and this is +why it does it. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>310.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Good-natured People.</hi>—Good-natured people +have acquired their character from the continual fear +of foreign attacks in which their ancestors lived,—these +ancestors, who were in the habit of mitigating +and tranquillising, humbling themselves, preventing, +distracting, flattering, and apologising, concealing +their grief and anger, and preserving an unruffled +countenance,—and they ultimately bequeathed all +this delicate and well-formed mechanism to their +children and grandchildren. These latter, thanks +to their more favourable lot, did not experience this +feeling of dread, but they nevertheless continue in +the same groove. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>311.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The so-called Soul.</hi>—The sum-total of those +internal movements which come naturally to men, +and which they can consequently set in motion +readily and gracefully, is called the soul—men are +looked upon as void of soul when they let it be +seen that their inward emotions are difficult and +painful to them. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='269'/><anchor id='Pg269'/> + +<div> +<head>312.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Forgetful Ones.</hi>—In outbursts of +passion and the delusions of dreams and madness, +man rediscovers his own primitive history, and that +of humanity: animality and its savage grimaces. +For once his memory stretches back into the past, +while his civilised condition is developed from the +forgetfulness of these primitive experiences, that is +to say, from the failing of this memory. He who, +as a forgetful man of a higher nature, has always +remained aloof from these things, does not understand +men—but it is an advantage if from time +to time there are individuals who do not understand +men, individuals who are, so to speak, created +from the divine seed and born of reason. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>313.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Friend whom we want no Longer.</hi>—That +friend whose hopes we cannot satisfy we +should prefer to have as an enemy. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>314.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>In the Society of Thinkers.</hi>—In the midst +of the ocean of becoming we adventurers and birds +of passage wake up on an island no larger than a +small boat, and here we look round us for a moment +with as much haste and curiosity as possible; for +how quickly may some gale blow us away or some +wave sweep over the little island and leave nothing +of us remaining! Here, however, upon this little +<pb n='270'/><anchor id='Pg270'/> +piece of ground we meet with other birds of passage +and hear of still earlier ones,—and thus we live +together for one precious minute of recognition and +divining, amid the cheerful fluttering of wings +and joyful chirping, and then adventure in spirit +far out on the ocean, feeling no less proud than the +ocean itself. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>315.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Parting with Something.</hi>—To give up some +of our property, or to waive a right, gives pleasure +when it denotes great wealth. Generosity may be +placed in this category. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>316.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Weak Sects.</hi>—Those sects which feel that they +will always remain weak hunt up a few intelligent +individual adherents, wishing to make up in quality +what they lack in quantity. This gives rise to no +little danger for intelligent minds. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>317.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Judgment of the Evening.</hi>—The man +who meditates upon his day's and life's work when +he has reached the end of his journey and feels +weary, generally arrives at a melancholy conclusion; +but this is not the fault of the day or his life, but +of weariness.—In the midst of creative work we do +not take time, as a rule, to meditate upon life and +existence, nor yet in the midst of our pleasures: +<pb n='271'/><anchor id='Pg271'/> +but if by a chance this did happen once we should +no longer believe him to be right who waited for +the seventh day and for repose to find everything +that exists very beautiful.—He had missed the +right moment. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>318.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Beware of Systemisers!</hi>—There is a certain +amount of comedy about systemisers: in trying to +complete a system and to round off its horizon they +have to try to let their weaker qualities appear in +the same style as their stronger ones.—They wish +to represent complete and uniformly strong natures. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>319.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Hospitality.</hi>—The object of hospitality is to +paralyse all hostile feeling in a stranger. When +we cease to look upon strangers as enemies, +hospitality diminishes; it flourishes so long as its +evil presupposition does. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>320.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Weather.</hi>—An exceptional and uncertain +state of the weather makes men suspicious even of +one another: at the same time they come to like +innovations, for they must diverge from their accustomed +habits. This is why despots like those +countries where the weather is moral. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>321.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Danger in Innocence.</hi>—Innocent people +become easy victims in all circumstances because +<pb n='272'/><anchor id='Pg272'/> +their lack of knowledge prevents them from distinguishing +between moderation and excess, and +from being betimes on their guard against themselves. +It is as a result of this that innocent, that +is, ignorant young women become accustomed to +the frequent enjoyment of sexual intercourse, and +feel the want of it very much in later years when +their husbands fall ill or grow prematurely old. +It is on account of this harmless and orthodox +conception, as if frequent sexual intercourse were +right and proper, that they come to experience +a need which afterwards exposes them to the +severest tribulations, and even worse. +</p> + +<p> +Considering the matter, however, from a higher +and more general point of view, whoever loves a +man or a thing without knowing him or it, falls +a prey to something which he would not love if +he could see it. In all cases where experience, +precautions, and prudent steps are required, it is the +innocent man who will be most thoroughly corrupted, +for he has to drink with closed eyes the +dregs and most secret poison of everything put +before him. Let us consider the procedure of all +princes, churches, sects, parties, and corporations: +Is not the innocent man always used as the sweetest +bait for the most dangerous and wicked traps?—just +as Ulysses availed himself of the services of +the innocent Neoptolemos to cheat the old and +infirm anchorite and ogre of Lemnos out of his bow +and arrows. Christianity, with its contempt for +the world, has made ignorance a virtue—innocence, +perhaps because the most frequent result of this +innocence is precisely, as I have indicated above, +<pb n='273'/><anchor id='Pg273'/> +guilt, the sense of guilt, and despair: In other words, +a virtue which leads to Heaven by the circuitous +route of Hell; for only then can the gloomy propylæa +of Christian salvation be thrown open, and +only then is the promise of a posthumous second +innocence effective. This is one of the finest inventions +of Christianity! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>322.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Living without a Doctor when Possible.</hi>—It +seems to me that a sick man lives more carelessly +when he is under medical observation than +when he attends to his own health. In the first +case it suffices for him to obey strictly all his +Doctor's prescriptions; but in the second case he +gives more attention to the ultimate object of these +prescriptions, namely, his health; he observes +much more, and submits himself to a more severe +discipline than the directions of his physician would +compel him to do. +</p> + +<p> +All rules have this effect: they distract our +attention from the fundamental aim of the rule, and +make us more thoughtless. But to what heights of +immoderation and destruction would men have +risen if ever they had completely and honestly left +everything to the Godhead as to their physician, +and acted in accordance with the words <q>as God +will</q>! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>323.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Darkening of the Heavens.</hi>—Do you +know the vengeance of those timid people who +<pb n='274'/><anchor id='Pg274'/> +behave in society just as if they had stolen their +limbs? The vengeance of the humble, Christian-like +souls who just manage to slink quietly through +the world? The vengeance of those who always +judge hastily, and are as hastily said to be in the +wrong? The vengeance of all classes of drunkards, +for whom the morning is always the most miserable +part of the day? and also of all kinds of +invalids and sick and depressed people who have no +longer the courage to become healthy? +</p> + +<p> +The number of these petty vengeful people, and, +even more, the number of their petty acts of revenge, +is incalculable. The air around us is continually +whizzing with the discharged arrows of their +malignity, so that the sun and the sky of their +lives become darkened thereby,—and, alas! not +only theirs, but more often ours and other men's: +and this is worse than the frequent wounds which +they make on our skins and hearts. Do we not +occasionally deny the existence of the sun and sky +merely because we have not seen them for so long?—Well +then, solitude! because of this, solitude! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>324.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Psychology of the Actor.</hi>—It is the +blissful illusion of all great actors to imagine that +the historical personages whom they are representing +were really in the same state of mind as +they themselves are when interpreting them—but +in this they are very much mistaken. Their powers +of imitation and divination, which they would fain +exhibit as a clairvoyant faculty, penetrate only +<pb n='275'/><anchor id='Pg275'/> +far enough to explain gestures, accent, and looks, +and in general anything exterior: that is, they can +grasp the shadow of the soul of a great hero, statesman, +or warrior, or of an ambitious, jealous, or +desperate person—they penetrate fairly near to +the soul, but they never reach the inmost spirit of +the man they are imitating. +</p> + +<p> +It would, indeed, be a fine thing to discover that +instead of thinkers, psychologists, or experts we +required nothing but clairvoyant actors to throw +light upon the essence of any condition. Let us +never forget, whenever such pretensions are heard, +that the actor is nothing but an ideal ape—so much +of an ape is he, indeed, that he is not capable of +believing in the <q>essence</q> or in the <q>essential</q>: +everything becomes for him merely performance, +intonation, attitude, stage, scenery, and public. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>325.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Living and Believing Apart.</hi>—The means +of becoming the prophet and wonder-worker of +one's age are the same to-day as in former times: +one must live apart, with little knowledge, some +ideas, and a great deal of presumption—we then +finish by believing that mankind cannot do without +us, because it is clear that we can do without it. +When we are inspired with this belief we find +faith. Finally, a piece of advice to him who +needs it (it was given to Wesley by Boehler, +his spiritual teacher): <q>Preach faith until you +have it; then you will preach it because you +have it!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='276'/><anchor id='Pg276'/> + +<div> +<head>326.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Knowing our Circumstances.</hi>—We may +estimate our powers, but not our power. Not only +do circumstances conceal it from us and show it to +us time about, but they even exaggerate or diminish +it. We must consider ourselves as variable +quantities whose productive capacity may in favourable +circumstances reach the greatest possible +heights: we must therefore reflect upon these circumstances, +and spare no pains in studying them. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>327.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Fable.</hi>—The Don Juan of knowledge—no +philosopher or poet has yet succeeded in discovering +him. He is wanting in love for the things he +recognises, but he possesses wit, a lust for the hunting +after knowledge, and the intrigues in connection +with it, and he finds enjoyment in all these, even up +to the highest and most distant stars of knowledge—until +at last there is nothing left for him to +pursue but the absolutely injurious side of knowledge, +just as the drunkard who ends by drinking +absinthe and aquafortis. That is why last of all +he feels a longing for hell, for this is the final +knowledge which seduces him. Perhaps even this +would disappoint him, as all things do which one +knows! and then he would have to stand still for +all eternity, a victim to eternal deception, and transformed +into his enemy, the Stony Guest, who longs +for an evening meal of knowledge which will never +more fall to his share! for the whole world of things +<pb n='277'/><anchor id='Pg277'/> +will not have another mouthful left to offer to these +hungry men. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>328.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>What Idealistic Theories Disclose.</hi>—We +are most certain to find idealistic theories among +unscrupulously practical men; for such men stand +in need of the lustre of these theories for the sake +of their reputation. They adopt them instinctively +without by any means feeling hypocritical in doing +so—no more hypocritical than Englishmen with +their Christianity and their Sabbath-keeping. On +the other hand, contemplative natures who have to +keep themselves on the guard against all kinds +of fantasies and who dread to be reputed as +enthusiasts, are only to be satisfied with hard +realistic theories: they take possession of them +under the same instinctive compulsion without +thereby losing their honesty. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>329.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Calumniators of Cheerfulness.</hi>—People +who have been deeply wounded by the disappointments +of life look with suspicion upon all +cheerfulness as if it were something childish and +puerile, and revealed a lack of common sense that +moves them to pity and tenderness, such as one +would experience when seeing a dying child caressing +his toys on his death-bed. Such men appear to +see hidden graves under every rose; rejoicings, +tumult, and cheerful music appear to them to be the +voluntary illusions of a man who is dangerously ill +<pb n='278'/><anchor id='Pg278'/> +and yet wishes to take a momentary draught from +the intoxicating cup of life. But this judgment about +cheerfulness is merely the reflection of the latter on +the dark background of weariness and ill-health: in +itself it is something touching, irrational, and pitiable, +even childlike and puerile, but connected with +that second childhood which follows in the train of +old age, and is the harbinger of death. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>330.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Not yet Enough!</hi>—It is not sufficient to +prove a case, we must also tempt or raise men to +it: hence the wise man must learn to convey his +wisdom; and often in such a manner that it may +sound like foolishness! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>331.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Right and Limits.</hi>—Asceticism is the proper +mode of thinking for those who must extirpate +their carnal instincts, because these are ferocious +beasts,—but only for such people! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>332.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Bombastic Style.</hi>—An artist who does +not wish to put his elevated feelings into a work +and thus unburden himself, but who rather wishes +to impart these feelings of elevation to others, becomes +pompous, and his style becomes the bombastic +style. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='279'/><anchor id='Pg279'/> + +<div> +<head>333.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><q>Humanity.</q></hi>—We do not consider animals as +moral beings. But do you think that animals +consider us as moral beings? An animal which +had the power of speech once said: <q>Humanity is +a prejudice from which we animals at least do not +suffer.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>334.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Charitable Man.</hi>—The charitable man +gratifies a need of his own inward feelings when +doing good. The stronger this need is the less +does such a man try to put himself in the place +of those who serve the purpose of gratifying his +desire: he becomes indelicate and sometimes even +offensive. (This remark applies to the benevolence +and charity of the Jews, which, as is well known, +is somewhat more effusive than that of other +peoples.)<note place='foot'>The German Jews are well known for their charity, by +means of which they probably wish to prove that they are not +so bad as the Anti-Semites paint them.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>335.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>That Love may be felt as Love.</hi>—We +must be honest towards ourselves, and must know +ourselves very well indeed, to be able to practise +upon others that humane dissimulation known as +love and kindness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>336.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>What are we capable of?</hi>—A man who had +been tormented all day by his wicked and malicious +<pb n='280'/><anchor id='Pg280'/> +son slew him in the evening, and then with a sigh +of relief said to the other members of his family: +<q>Well now we can sleep in peace.</q> Who knows +what circumstances might drive us to! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>337.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><q>Natural.</q></hi>—To be natural, at least in his +deficiencies, is perhaps the last praise that can be +bestowed upon an artificial artist, who is in other +respects theatrical and half genuine. Such a man will +for this very reason boldly parade his deficiencies. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>338.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Conscience-Substitute.</hi>—One man is another's +conscience: and this is especially important +when the other has none else. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>339.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Transformation of Duties.</hi>—When +our duties cease to be difficult of accomplishment, +and after long practice become changed into agreeable +delights and needs, then the rights of others +to whom our duties (though now our inclinations) +refer change into something else: that is, they +become the occasion of pleasant feelings for us. +Henceforth the <q>other,</q> by virtue of his rights, +becomes an object of love to us instead of an object +of reverence and awe as formerly. It is our own +pleasure we seek when we recognise and maintain +the extent of his power. When the Quietists +<pb n='281'/><anchor id='Pg281'/> +no longer felt their Christian faith as a burden, and +experienced their delight only in God, they took the +motto: <q>Do all to the glory of God.</q> Whatever +they performed henceforth in this sense was no +longer a sacrifice, it was as much as to say, <q>Everything +for the sake of our pleasure.</q> To demand that +duty should be always rather burdensome, as Kant +does, is to demand that it shall never develop into +a habit or custom. There is a small residue of +ascetic cruelty in this demand. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>340.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Appearances are against the Historian.</hi>—It +is a sufficiently demonstrated fact that human +beings come from the womb; nevertheless when +children grow up and stand by the side of their +mother this hypothesis appears very absurd—all +appearances are against it. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>341.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Advantage of Ignorance.</hi>—Some one +has said that in his childhood he experienced such +a contempt for the caprices and whims of a melancholy +temperament that, until he had grown up +and had become a middle-aged man, he did not +know what his own temperament was like: it was +precisely a melancholy temperament. He declared +that this was the best of all possible kinds of +ignorance. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>342.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Do not be deceived!</hi>—Yes, he examined the +matter from every side and you think him to be a +<pb n='282'/><anchor id='Pg282'/> +man of profound knowledge. But he only wishes +to lower the price—he wants to buy it! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>343.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Moral Pretence.</hi>—You refuse to be dissatisfied +with yourselves or to suffer from yourselves, +and this you call your moral tendency! Very well; +another may perhaps call it your cowardice! One +thing, however, is certain, and that is that you will +never take a trip round the world (and you yourselves +are this world), and you will always remain +in yourselves an accident and a clod on the face +of the earth! Do you fancy that we who hold +different views from you are merely exposing ourselves +out of pure folly to the journey through our +own deserts, swamps, and glaciers, and that we are +voluntarily choosing grief and disgust with ourselves, +like the Stylites? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>344.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Subtlety in Mistakes.</hi>—If Homer, as they +say, sometimes nodded, he was wiser than all the +artists of sleepless ambition. We must allow +admirers to stop for a time and take breath by +letting them find fault now and then; for nobody +can bear an uninterruptedly brilliant and untiring +excellence—and instead of doing good such a +master would merely become a taskmaster, whom +we hate while he precedes us. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>345.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Our Happiness is not an Argument +either Pro or Con.</hi>—Many men are only capable +<pb n='283'/><anchor id='Pg283'/> +of a small share of happiness: and it is not an +argument against their wisdom if this wisdom is +unable to afford them a greater degree of happiness, +any more than it is an argument against medical +skill that many people are incurable, and others +always ailing. May every one have the good fortune +to discover the conception of existence which will +enable him to realise <emph>his</emph> greatest share of happiness! +though this will not necessarily prevent his life from +being miserable and not worth envying. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>346.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Enemies of Women.</hi>—<q>Woman is our +enemy</q>—The man who speaks to men in this way +exhibits an unbridled lust which not only hates +itself but also its means. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>347.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The School of the Orator.</hi>—When a man +has kept silence for a whole year he learns to stop +chattering, and to discourse instead. The Pythagoreans +were the best statesmen of their age. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>348.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Feeling of Power.</hi>—Note the distinction: +the man who wishes to acquire the feeling +of power seizes upon any means, and looks upon +nothing as too petty which can foster this feeling. +He who already possesses power, however, has +grown fastidious and refined in his tastes; few +things can be found to satisfy him. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='284'/><anchor id='Pg284'/> + +<div> +<head>349.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Not so very Important.</hi>—When we are +present at a death-bed there regularly arises in us +a thought that we immediately suppress from a +false sense of propriety: the thought that the act +of dying is less important than the customary +veneration of it would wish us to believe, and that +the dying man has probably lost in his life things +which were more important than he is now about to +lose by his death. In this case the end is certainly +not the goal. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>350.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The best way to Promise.</hi>—When a man +makes a promise it is not merely the word that +promises, but what lies unexpressed behind the +word. Words indeed weaken a promise by discharging +and using up a power which forms part of +that power which promises. Therefore shake hands +when making a promise, but put your finger on +your lips—in this way you will make the safest +promises. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>351.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Generally Misunderstood.</hi>—In conversation +we sometimes observe people endeavouring +to set a trap in which to catch others—not out of +evil-mindedness, as one might suppose, but from +delight in their own shrewdness. Others again +prepare a joke so that some one else may utter it, +they tie the knot so that others may undo it: not +<pb n='285'/><anchor id='Pg285'/> +out of goodwill, as might be supposed, but from +wickedness, and their contempt for coarse intellects. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>352.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Centre.</hi>—The feeling, <q>I am the centre of the +world,</q> forcibly comes to us when we are unexpectedly +overtaken by disgrace: we then feel as if +we were standing dazed in the midst of a surge, and +dazzled by the glance of one enormous eye which +gazes down upon us from all sides and looks us +through and through. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>353.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Freedom of Speech.</hi>—<q>The truth must be +told, even if the world should be shivered in +fragments</q>—so cries the eminent and grandiloquent +Fichte.—Yes, certainly; but we must have it +first.—What he really means, however, is that each +man should speak his mind, even if everything were +to be turned upside down. This point, however, is +open to dispute. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>354.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Courage for Suffering.</hi>—Such as we +now are, we are capable of bearing a tolerable +amount of displeasure, and our stomach is suited +to such indigestible food. If we were deprived +of it, indeed, we should perhaps think the banquet +of life insipid; and if it were not for our willingness +to suffer pain we should have to let too many +pleasures escape us! +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='286'/><anchor id='Pg286'/> + +<div> +<head>355.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Admirers.</hi>—The man who admires up to the +point that he would be ready to crucify any one +who did not admire, must be reckoned among the +executioners of his party—beware of shaking hands +with him, even when he belongs to your own side. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>356.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Effect of Happiness.</hi>—The first effect of +happiness is the feeling of power, and this feeling +longs to manifest itself, whether towards ourselves +or other men, or towards ideas and imaginary +beings. Its most common modes of manifestation +are making presents, derision, and destruction—all +three being due to a common fundamental +instinct. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>357.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Moral Mosquitoes.</hi>—Those moralists who are +lacking in the love of knowledge, and who are only +acquainted with the pleasure of giving pain, have +the spirit and tediousness of provincials. Their +pastime, as cruel as it is lamentable, is to observe +their neighbour with the greatest possible closeness, +and, unperceived, to place a pin in such position +that he cannot help pricking himself with it. Such +men have preserved something of the wickedness +of schoolboys, who cannot amuse themselves without +hunting and torturing either the living or the +dead. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='287'/><anchor id='Pg287'/> + +<div> +<head>358.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Reasons and their Unreason.</hi>—You feel a +dislike for him, and adduce innumerable reasons for +this dislike, but I only believe in your dislike and +not in your reasons! You flatter yourself by adducing +as a rational conclusion, both to yourself and +to me, that which happens to be merely a matter +of instinct. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>359.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Approving of Something.</hi>—We approve of +marriage in the first place because we are not yet +acquainted with it, in the second place because +we have accustomed ourselves to it, and in the +third place because we have contracted it—that is +to say, in most cases. And yet nothing has been +proved thereby in favour of the value of marriage +in general. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>360.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>No Utilitarians.</hi>—<q>Power which has greatly +suffered both in deed and in thought is better than +powerlessness which only meets with kind treatment</q>—such +was the Greek way of thinking. In +other words, the feeling of power was prized more +highly by them than any mere utility or fair renown. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>361.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Ugly in Appearance.</hi>—Moderation appears +to itself to be quite beautiful: it is unaware of the +fact that in the eyes of the immoderate it seems +coarse and insipid, and consequently ugly. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='288'/><anchor id='Pg288'/> + +<div> +<head>362.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Different in Their Hatred.</hi>—There are +men who do not begin to hate until they feel weak +and tired: in other respects they are fair-minded +and superior. Others only begin to hate when they +see an opportunity for revenge: in other respects +they carefully avoid both secret and open wrath, +and overlook it whenever there is any occasion +for it. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>363.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Men of Chance.</hi>—It is pure hazard which plays +the essential part in every invention, but most men +do not meet with this hazard. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>364.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Choice of Environment.</hi>—We should beware +of living in an environment where we are neither able +to maintain a dignified silence nor to express our loftier +thoughts, so that only our complaints and needs +and the whole story of our misery are left to be told. +We thus become dissatisfied with ourselves and with +our surroundings, and to the discomfort which brings +about our complaints we add the vexation which +we feel at always being in the position of grumblers. +But we should, on the contrary, live in a place +where we should be ashamed to speak of ourselves +and where it would not be necessary to do so.—Who, +however, thinks of such things, or of the choice +in such things? We talk about our <q>fate,</q> brace +up our shoulders, and sigh, <q>Unfortunate Atlas that +I am!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='289'/><anchor id='Pg289'/> + +<div> +<head>365.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Vanity.</hi>—Vanity is the dread of appearing to be +original. Hence it is a lack of pride, but not necessarily +a lack of originality. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>366.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Criminal's Grief.</hi>—The criminal who +has been found out does not suffer because of the +crime he has committed, but because of the shame +and annoyance caused him either by some blunder +which he has made or by being deprived of his +habitual element; and keen discernment is necessary +to distinguish such cases. Every one who has +had much experience of prisons and reformatories is +astonished at the rare instances of really genuine +<q>remorse,</q> and still more so at the longing shown +to return to the old wicked and beloved crime. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>367.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Always appearing Happy.</hi>—When, in the +Greece of the third century, philosophy had become +a matter of public emulation, there were not a +few philosophers who became happy through the +thought that others who lived according to different +principles, and suffered from them, could not +but feel envious of their happiness. They thought +they could refute these other people with their +happiness better than anything else, and to achieve +this object they were content to appear to be +always happy; but, following this practice, they +<pb n='290'/><anchor id='Pg290'/> +were obliged to become happy in the long run! +This, for example, was the case of the cynics. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>368.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Cause of much Misunderstanding.</hi>—The +morality of increasing nervous force is joyful +and restless; the morality of diminishing nervous +force, towards evening, or in invalids and old people, +is passive, calm, patient, and melancholy, and not +rarely even gloomy. In accordance with what we +may possess of one or other of these moralities, we +do not understand that which we lack, and we often +interpret it in others as immorality and weakness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>369.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Raising one's self above one's own Lowness.</hi>—<q>Proud</q> +fellows they are indeed, those who, +in order to establish a sense of their own dignity and +importance, stand in need of other people whom +they may tyrannise and oppress—those whose +powerlessness and cowardice permits some one to +make sublime and furious gestures in their presence +with impunity, so that they require the baseness of +their surroundings to raise themselves for one short +moment above their own baseness!—For this purpose +one man requires a dog, another a friend, a +third a wife, a fourth a party, a fifth, again, one very +rarely to be met with, a whole age. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>370.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To what extent the Thinker loves his +Enemy.</hi>—Make it a rule never to withhold or conceal +<pb n='291'/><anchor id='Pg291'/> +from yourself anything that may be thought +against your own thoughts. Vow it! This is the +essential requirement of honest thinking. You must +undertake such a campaign against yourself every +day. A victory and a conquered position are no +longer your concern, but that of truth—and your +defeat also is no longer your concern! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>371.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Evil of Strength.</hi>—Violence as the +outcome of passion, for example, of rage, must be +understood from the physiological point of view as +an attempt to avoid an imminent fit of suffocation. +Innumerable acts arising from animal spirits and +vented upon others are simply outlets for getting +rid of sudden congestion by a violent muscular +exertion: and perhaps the entire <q>evil of strength</q> +must be considered from this point of view. (This +evil of strength wounds others unintentionally—it +must find an outlet somewhere; while the evil of +weakness wishes to wound and to see signs of suffering.) +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>372.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To the Credit of the Connoisseur.</hi>—As +soon as some one who is no connoisseur begins to +pose as a judge we should remonstrate, whether +it is a male or female whipper-snapper. Enthusiasm +or delight in a thing or a human being +is not an argument; neither is repugnance or +hatred. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='292'/><anchor id='Pg292'/> + +<div> +<head>373.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Treacherous Blame.</hi>—<q>He has no knowledge +of men</q> means in the mouth of some <q>He +does not know what baseness is</q>; and in the +mouths of others, <q>He does not know the exception +and knows only too well what baseness means.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>374.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Value of Sacrifice.</hi>—The more the +rights of states and princes are questioned as to their +right to sacrifice the individual (for example, in the +administration of justice, conscription, etc.), the more +will the value of self-sacrifice rise. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>375.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Speaking too distinctly.</hi>—There are several +reasons why we articulate our words too distinctly: +in the first place, from distrust of ourselves when +using a new and unpractised language; secondly, +when we distrust others on account of their stupidity +or their slowness of comprehension. The same +remark applies to intellectual matters: our communications +are sometimes too distinct, too painful, +because if it were otherwise those to whom we +communicate our ideas would not understand us. +Consequently the perfect and easy style is only +permissible when addressing a perfect audience. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>376.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Plenty of Sleep.</hi>—What can we do to arouse +ourselves when we are weary and tired of our ego? +<pb n='293'/><anchor id='Pg293'/> +Some recommend the gambling table, others Christianity, +and others again electricity. But the best +remedy, my dear hypochondriac, is, and always will +be, plenty of sleep in both the literal and figurative +sense of the word. Thus another morning will at +length dawn upon us. The knack of worldly wisdom +is to find the proper time for applying this remedy +in both its forms. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>377.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>What we may conclude from fantastic +Ideals.</hi>—Where our deficiencies are, there also is +our enthusiasm. The enthusiastic principle <q>love +your enemies</q> had to be invented by the Jews, the +best haters that ever existed; and the finest glorifications +of chastity have been written by those who +in their youth led dissolute and licentious lives. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>378.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Clean Hands and clean Walls.</hi>—Do not +paint the picture either of God or the devil on your +walls: for in so doing you will spoil your walls as +well as your surroundings.<note place='foot'>That is, do not speak either of God or the devil. The +German proverb runs: <q>Man soll den Teufel nicht an die +Wand malen, sonst kommt er.</q>—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>379.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Probable and Improbable.</hi>—A woman +secretly loved a man, raised him far above her, and +<pb n='294'/><anchor id='Pg294'/> +said to herself hundreds of times in her inmost heart, +<q>If a man like that were to love me, I should look +upon it as a condescension before which I should +have to humble myself in the dust.</q>—And the man +entertained the same feelings towards the woman, +and in his inmost heart he felt the very same +thought. When at last both their tongues were +loosened, and they had communicated their most +secret thoughts to one another, a deep and meditative +silence ensued. Then the woman said in a cold +voice: <q>The thing is quite clear! We are neither +of us that which we loved! If you are what you +say you are, and nothing more, then I have humbled +myself in vain and loved you; the demon misled me +as well as you.</q> This very probable story never +happens—and why doesn't it? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>380.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tested Advice.</hi>—Of all the means of consolation +there is none so efficacious for him who has +need of it as the declaration that in his case no +consolation can be given. This implies such a distinction +that the afflicted person will at once raise +his head again. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>381.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Knowing one's <q>Individuality</q>.</hi>—We too +often forget that in the eyes of strangers who see +us for the first time we are quite different beings +from what we consider ourselves to be—in most +cases we exhibit nothing more than one particular +characteristic which catches the eye of the stranger, +<pb n='295'/><anchor id='Pg295'/> +and determines the impression we make on him. +Thus the most peaceful and fair-minded man, if +only he has a big moustache, may, as it were, repose +in the shade of this moustache; for ordinary +eyes will merely see in him the accessory of a big +moustache, that is to say, a military, irascible, and +occasionally violent character, and will act accordingly. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>382.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Gardeners and Gardens.</hi>—Wet dreary days, +loneliness, and unkind words give rise within us +to conclusions like fungi; some morning we find +that they have grown up in front of us we know +not whence, and there they scowl at us, sullen and +morose. Woe to the thinker who instead of being +the gardener of his plants, is merely the soil from +which they spring. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>383.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Comedy of Pity.</hi>—However much we +may feel for an unhappy friend of ours, we always +act with a certain amount of insincerity in his +presence: we refrain from telling him everything +we think, and how we think it, with all the circumspection +of a doctor standing by the bedside of a +patient who is seriously ill. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>384.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Curious Saints.</hi>—There are pusillanimous +people who have a bad opinion of everything that +<pb n='296'/><anchor id='Pg296'/> +is best in their works, and who at the same time +interpret and comment upon them badly: but also, +by a kind of revenge, they entertain a bad opinion +of the sympathy of others, and do not believe in +sympathy at all; they are ashamed to appear to +be carried away from themselves, and feel a defiant +comfort in appearing or becoming ridiculous.—States +of soul like these are to be found in melancholy +artists. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>385.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Vain People.</hi>—We are like shop-windows, +where we ourselves are constantly arranging, concealing, +or setting in the foreground those supposed +qualities which others attribute to us—in order to +deceive <emph>ourselves</emph>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>386.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pathetic and Naïve.</hi>—It may be a very +vulgar habit to let no opportunity slip of assuming +a pathetic air for the sake of the enjoyment to be +experienced in imagining the spectator striking his +breast and feeling himself to be small and miserable. +Consequently it may also be the indication of +a noble mind to make fun of pathetic situations, +and to behave in an undignified manner in them. +The old, warlike nobility of France possessed that +kind of distinction and delicacy. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>387.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Reflection before Marriage.</hi>—Supposing +she loved me, what a burden she would be to +<pb n='297'/><anchor id='Pg297'/> +me in the long run! and supposing that she did +not love me, what a much greater burden she would +be to me in the long run! We have to choose +between two different kinds of burdens; therefore +let us marry. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>388.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Rascality with a good Conscience.</hi>—It is +exceedingly annoying to be cheated in small +bargains in certain countries,—in the Tyrol, for +example,—because, in addition to the bad bargain, +we are compelled to accept the evil countenance +and coarse greediness of the man who has cheated +us, together with his bad conscience and his hostile +feeling against us. At Venice, on the other hand, +the cheater is highly delighted at his successful +fraud, and is not in the least angry with the man +he has cheated—nay, he is even inclined to show +him some kindness, and above all to have a hearty +laugh with him if he likes.—In short, one must +possess wit and a good conscience in order to be +a knave, and this will almost reconcile the cheated +one with the cheat.<note place='foot'>The case of that other witty Venetian, Casanova.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>389.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Rather too Awkward.</hi>—Good people who +are too awkward to be polite and amiable promptly +endeavour to return an act of politeness by an +important service, or by a contribution beyond their +power. It is touching to see them timidly producing +<pb n='298'/><anchor id='Pg298'/> +their gold coins when others have offered +them their gilded coppers! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>390.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Hiding one's Intelligence.</hi>—When we surprise +some one in the act of hiding his intelligence +from us we call him evil: the more so if we suspect +that it is his civility and benevolence which +have induced him to do so. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>391.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Evil Moment.</hi>—Lively dispositions only +lie for a moment: after this they have deceived +themselves, and are convinced and honest. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>392.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Condition of Politeness.</hi>—Politeness +is a very good thing, and really one of the four +chief virtues (although the last), but in order that +it may not result in our becoming tiresome to one +another the person with whom I have to deal must +be either one degree more or less polite than I—otherwise +we should never get on, and the ointment +would not only anoint us, but would cement us +together. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>393.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Dangerous Virtues.</hi>—<q>He forgets nothing, +but forgives everything</q>—wherefore he shall be +doubly detested, for he causes us double shame by +his memory and his magnanimity. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='299'/><anchor id='Pg299'/> + +<div> +<head>394.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Without Vanity.</hi>—Passionate people think +little of what others may think; their state of mind +raises them above vanity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>395.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Contemplation.</hi>—In some thinkers the contemplative +state peculiar to a thinker is always the +consequence of a state of fear, in others always of +desire. In the former, contemplation thus seems +allied to the feeling of security, in the latter to the +feeling of surfeit—in other words, the former are +spirited in their mood, the latter over-satiated and +neutral. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>396.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Hunting.</hi>—The one is hunting for agreeable +truths, the other for disagreeable ones. But even +the former takes greater pleasure in the hunt than +in the booty. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>397.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Education.</hi>—Education is a continuation of +procreation, and very often a kind of supplementary +varnishing of it. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>398.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How to recognise the Choleric.</hi>—Of two +persons who are struggling together, or who love +and admire one another, the more choleric will +always be at a disadvantage. The same remark +applies to two nations. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='300'/><anchor id='Pg300'/> + +<div> +<head>399.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Self-Excuse.</hi>—Many men have the best +possible right to act in this or that way; but as +soon as they begin to excuse their actions we no +longer believe that they are right—and we are +mistaken. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>400.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Moral Pampering.</hi>—There are tender, moral +natures who are ashamed of all their successes and +feel remorse after every failure. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>401.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Dangerous Unlearning.</hi>—We begin by unlearning +to love others, and end by finding nothing +lovable in ourselves. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>402.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Another form of Toleration.</hi>—<q>To remain +a minute too long on red-hot coals and to be burnt +a little does no harm either to men or to chestnuts. +The slight bitterness and hardness makes the kernel +all the sweeter.</q>—Yes, this is your opinion, you +who enjoy the taste! You sublime cannibals! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>403.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Different Pride.</hi>—Women turn pale at the +thought that their lover may not be worthy of them; +Men turn pale at the thought that they may not +<pb n='301'/><anchor id='Pg301'/> +be worthy of the women they love. I speak of perfect +women, perfect men. Such men, who are self-reliant +and conscious of power at ordinary times, grow +diffident and doubtful of themselves when under +the influence of a strong passion. Such women, +on the other hand, though always looking upon +themselves as the weak and devoted sex, become +proud and conscious of their power in the great +exception of passion,—they ask: <q>Who then is +worthy of me?</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>404.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>When we seldom do Justice.</hi>—Certain men +are unable to feel enthusiasm for a great and good +cause without committing a great injustice in some +other quarter: this is <emph>their</emph> kind of morality. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>405.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Luxury.</hi>—The love of luxury is rooted in the +depths of a man's heart: it shows that the superfluous +and immoderate is the sea wherein his soul +prefers to float. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>406.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To Immortalise.</hi>—Let him who wishes to kill +his opponent first consider whether by doing so he +will not immortalise him in himself. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>407.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Against our Character.</hi>—If the truth which +we have to utter goes against our character—as +<pb n='302'/><anchor id='Pg302'/> +very often happens—we behave as if we had uttered +a clumsy falsehood, and thus rouse suspicion. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>408.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Where a great deal of Gentleness is +Needed.</hi>—Many natures have only the choice of +being either public evil-doers or secret sorrow-bearers. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>409.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Illness.</hi>—Among illness are to be reckoned the +premature approach of old age, ugliness, and pessimistic +opinions—three things that always go together. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>410.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Timid People.</hi>—It is the awkward and timid +people who easily become murderers: they do not +understand slight but sufficient means of defence +or revenge, and their hatred, owing to their lack of +intelligence and presence of mind, can conceive of +no other expedient than destruction. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>411.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Without Hatred.</hi>—You wish to bid farewell +to your passion? Very well, but do so without +hatred against it! Otherwise you have a second +passion.—The soul of the Christian who has freed +himself from sin is generally ruined afterwards by +the hatred for sin. Just look at the faces of the +great Christians! they are the faces of great haters. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='303'/><anchor id='Pg303'/> + +<div> +<head>412.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Ingenious and Narrow-Minded.</hi>—He can +appreciate nothing beyond himself, and when he +wishes to appreciate other people he must always +begin by transforming them into himself. In this, +however, he is ingenious. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>413.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Private and Public Accusers.</hi>—Watch +closely the accuser and inquirer,—for he reveals +his true character; and it is not rare for this to be +a worse character than that of the victim whose +crime he is investigating. The accuser believes in +all innocence that the opponent of a crime and +criminal must be by nature of good character, or +at least must appear as such—and this is why he +lets himself go, that is to say, he drops his mask. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>414.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Voluntary Blindness.</hi>—There is a kind of +enthusiastic and extreme devotion to a person or a +party which reveals that in our inmost hearts we feel +ourselves superior to this person or party, and for +this reason we feel indignant with ourselves. We +blind ourselves, as it were, of our own free will to +punish our eyes for having seen too much. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>415.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><foreign rend='italic'>Remedium Amoris.</foreign></hi>—That old radical remedy +for love is now in most cases as effective as it +always was: love in return. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='304'/><anchor id='Pg304'/> + +<div> +<head>416.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Where is our worst Enemy?</hi>—He who can +look after his own affairs well, and knows that he +can do so, is as a rule conciliatory towards his +adversary. But to believe that we have right on +our side, and to know that we are incapable of +defending it—this gives rise to a fierce and implacable +hatred against the opponent of our cause. +Let every one judge accordingly where his worst +enemies are to be sought. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>417.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Limits of all Humility.</hi>—Many men +may certainly have attained that humility which +says <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>credo quia absurdum est</foreign>, and sacrifices its +reason; but, so far as I know, not one has attained +to that humility which after all is only one step +further, and which says <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>creda quia absurdus sum</foreign>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>418.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Acting the Truth.</hi>—Many a man is truthful, +not because he would be ashamed to exhibit hypocritical +feelings, but because he would not succeed +very well in inducing others to believe in his +hypocrisy. In a word, he has no confidence in +his talent as an actor, and therefore prefers honestly +to act the truth. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>419.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Courage in a Party.</hi>—The poor sheep say to +their bell-wether: <q>Only lead us, and we shall never +<pb n='305'/><anchor id='Pg305'/> +lack courage to follow you.</q> But the poor bell-wether +thinks in his heart: <q>Only follow me, and I shall +never lack courage to lead you.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>420.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Cunning of the Victim.</hi>—What a sad cunning +there is in the wish to deceive ourselves with +respect to the person for whom we have sacrificed +ourselves, when we give him an opportunity in which +he must appear to us as we should wish him to be! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>421.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Through Others.</hi>—There are men who do +not wish to be seen except through the eyes of +others: a wish which implies a great deal of +wisdom. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>422.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Making Others Happy.</hi>—Why is the fact of +our making others happy more gratifying to us +than all other pleasures?—Because in so doing +we gratify fifty cravings at one time. Taken +separately they would, perhaps, be very small +pleasures; but when put into one hand, that +hand will be fuller than ever before—and the heart +also. +</p> + +</div> + +</div> + +<pb n='307'/><anchor id='Pg307'/> + +<div rend='page-break-before: always'> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Book V.</head> + +<div> +<head>423.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>In the Great Silence.</hi>—Here is the sea, here +may we forget the town. It is true that its bells +are still ringing the Angelus—that solemn and +foolish yet sweet sound at the junction between +day and night,—but one moment more! now all +is silent. Yonder lies the ocean, pale and brilliant; +it cannot speak. The sky is glistening with its +eternal mute evening hues, red, yellow, and green: +it cannot speak. The small cliffs and rocks which +stretch out into the sea as if each one of them were +endeavouring to find the loneliest spot—they too +are dumb. Beautiful and awful indeed is this vast +silence, which so suddenly overcomes us and makes +our heart swell. +</p> + +<p> +Alas! what deceit lies in this dumb beauty! +How well could it speak, and how evilly, too, if it +wished! Its tongue, tied up and fastened, and its +face of suffering happiness—all this is but malice, +mocking at your sympathy: be it so! I do not +feel ashamed to be the plaything of such powers! +but I pity thee, oh nature, because thou must be +silent, even though it be only malice that binds +thy tongue: nay, I pity thee for the sake of thy +malice! +</p> + +<pb n='308'/><anchor id='Pg308'/> + +<p> +Alas! the silence deepens, and once again my +heart swells within me: it is startled by a fresh truth—it, +too, is dumb; it likewise sneers when the mouth +calls out something to this beauty; it also enjoys +the sweet malice of its silence. I come to hate +speaking; yea, even thinking. Behind every word +I utter do I not hear the laughter of error, imagination, +and insanity? Must I not laugh at my pity +and mock my own mockery? Oh sea, oh evening, +ye are bad teachers! Ye teach man how to cease +to be a man. Is he to give himself up to you? +Shall he become as you now are, pale, brilliant, dumb, +immense, reposing calmly upon himself?—exalted +above himself? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>424.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>For whom the Truth Exists.</hi>—Up to the +present time errors have been the power most fruitful +in consolations: we now expect the same effects +from accepted truths, and we have been waiting +rather too long for them. What if these truths could +not give us this consolation we are looking for? +Would that be an argument against them? What +have these truths in common with the sick condition +of suffering and degenerate men that they should be +useful to them? It is, of course, no proof against +the truth of a plant when it is clearly established +that it does not contribute in any way to the recovery +of sick people. Formerly, however, people +were so convinced that man was the ultimate end +of nature that they believed that knowledge could +reveal nothing that was not beneficial and useful to +<pb n='309'/><anchor id='Pg309'/> +man—nay, there could not, should not be, any other +things in existence. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps all this leads to the conclusion that truth +as an entity and a coherent whole exists only for +those natures who, like Aristotle, are at once powerful +and harmless, joyous and peaceful: just as none +but these would be in a position to seek such truths; +for the others seek remedies for themselves—however +proud they may be of their intellect and its +freedom, they do not seek truth. Hence it comes +about that these others take no real joy in science, +but reproach it for its coldness, dryness, and inhumanity. +This is the judgment of sick people +about the games of the healthy.—Even the Greek +gods were unable to administer consolation; and +when at length the entire Greek world fell ill, this +was a reason for the destruction of such gods. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>425.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>We Gods in Exile.</hi>—Owing to errors regarding +their descent, their uniqueness, their mission, +and by claims based upon these errors, men have +again and again <q>surpassed themselves</q>; but +through these same errors the world has been filled +with unspeakable suffering, mutual persecution, +suspicion, misunderstanding, and an even greater +amount of individual misery. Men have become +suffering creatures in consequence of their morals, +and the sum-total of what they have obtained by +those morals is simply the feeling that they are far +too good and great for this world, and that they are +enjoying merely a transitory existence on it. As +<pb n='310'/><anchor id='Pg310'/> +yet the <q>proud sufferer</q> is the highest type of +mankind. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>426.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Colour-Blindness of Thinkers.</hi>—How +differently from us the Greeks must have +viewed nature, since, as we cannot help admitting, +they were quite colour-blind in regard to blue and +green, believing the former to be a deeper brown, and +the latter to be yellow. Thus, for instance, they +used the same word to describe the colour of dark +hair, of the corn-flower, and the southern sea; and +again they employed exactly the same expression +for the colour of the greenest herbs, the human skin, +honey, and yellow raisins: whence it follows that +their greatest painters reproduced the world they +lived in only in black, white, red, and yellow. How +different and how much nearer to mankind, therefore, +must nature have seemed to them, since in their +eyes the tints of mankind predominated also in +nature, and nature was, as it were, floating in the +coloured ether of humanity! (blue and green more +than anything else dehumanise nature). It is this +defect which developed the playful facility that characterised +the Greeks of seeing the phenomena of +nature as gods and demi-gods—that is to say, as +human forms. +</p> + +<p> +Let this, however, merely serve as a simile for +another supposition. Every thinker paints his world +and the things that surround him in fewer colours +than really exist, and he is blind to individual +colours. This is something more than a mere +deficiency. Thanks to this nearer approach and +<pb n='311'/><anchor id='Pg311'/> +simplification, he imagines he sees in things those +harmonies of colours which possess a great charm, +and may greatly enrich nature. Perhaps, indeed, +it was in this way that men first learnt to take delight +in viewing existence, owing to its being first of +all presented to them in one or two shades, and consequently +harmonised. They practised these few +shades, so to speak, before they could pass on to +any more. And even now certain individuals endeavour +to get rid of a partial colour-blindness that +they may obtain a richer faculty of sight and discernment, +in the course of which they find that they +not only discover new pleasures, but are also obliged +to lose and give up some of their former ones. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>427.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Embellishment of Science.</hi>—In the +same way that the feeling that <q>nature is ugly, wild, +tedious—we must embellish it (<foreign rend='italic'>embellir la nature</foreign>)</q>—brought +about rococo horticulture, so does the +view that <q>science is ugly, difficult, dry, dreary and +weary, we must embellish it,</q> invariably gives rise +to something called philosophy. This philosophy +sets out to do what all art and poetry endeavour +to do, viz., giving amusement above all else; but it +wishes to do this, in conformity with its hereditary +pride, in a higher and more sublime fashion before +an audience of superior intellects. It is no small +ambition to create for these intellects a kind of +horticulture, the principal charm of which—like that +of the usual gardening—is to bring about an +optical illusion (by means of temples, perspective, +<pb n='312'/><anchor id='Pg312'/> +grottos, winding walks, and waterfalls, to speak in +similes), exhibiting science in a condensed form and +in all kinds of strange and unexpected illuminations, +infusing into it as much indecision, irrationality, +and dreaminess as will enable us to walk about +in it <q>as in savage nature,</q> but without trouble +and boredom. +</p> + +<p> +Those who are possessed of this ambition even +dream of making religion superfluous—religion, +which among men of former times served as the highest +kind of entertainment. All this is now running +its course, and will one day attain its highest tide. +Even now hostile voices are being raised against +philosophy, exclaiming: <q>Return to science, to +nature, and the naturalness of science!</q> and thus +an age may begin which may discover the most +powerful beauty precisely in the <q>savage and ugly</q> +domains of science, just as it is only since the time +of Rousseau that we have discovered the sense for +the beauty of high mountains and deserts. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>428.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Two Kinds of Moralists.</hi>—To see a law of +nature for the first time, and to see it whole (for +example, the law of gravity or the reflection of light +and sound), and afterwards to explain such a law, +are two different things and concern different classes +of minds. In the same way, those moralists who observe +and exhibit human laws and habits—moralists +with discriminating ears, noses, and eyes—differ +entirely from those who interpret their observations. +These latter must above all be inventive, and +<pb n='313'/><anchor id='Pg313'/> +must possess an imagination untrammelled by +sagacity and knowledge. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>429.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The new Passion.</hi>—Why do we fear and dread +a possible return to barbarism? Is it because it +would make people less happy than they are now? +Certainly not! the barbarians of all ages possessed +more happiness than we do: let us not deceive ourselves +on this point!—but our impulse towards +knowledge is too widely developed to allow us to +value happiness without knowledge, or the happiness +of a strong and fixed delusion: it is painful to +us even to imagine such a state of things! Our +restless pursuit of discoveries and divinations has +become for us as attractive and indispensable as +hapless love to the lover, which on no account would +he exchange for indifference,—nay, perhaps we, too, +are hapless lovers! Knowledge within us has developed +into a passion, which does not shrink from +any sacrifice, and at bottom fears nothing but its +own extinction. We sincerely believe that all +humanity, weighed down as it is by the burden of +this passion, are bound to feel more exalted and +comforted than formerly, when they had not yet +overcome the longing for the coarser satisfaction +which accompanies barbarism. +</p> + +<p> +It may be that mankind may perish eventually +from this passion for knowledge!—but even that +does not daunt us. Did Christianity ever shrink +from a similar thought? Are not love and death +brother and sister? Yes, we detest barbarism,—we +<pb n='314'/><anchor id='Pg314'/> +all prefer that humanity should perish rather +than that knowledge should enter into a stage of +retrogression. And, finally, if mankind does not +perish through some passion it will perish through +some weakness: which would we prefer? This is +the main question. Do we wish its end to be in +fire and light, or in the sands? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>430.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Likewise Heroic.</hi>—To do things of the worst +possible odour, things of which we scarcely dare +to speak, but which are nevertheless useful and +necessary, is also heroic. The Greeks were not +ashamed of numbering even the cleansing of a +stable among the great tasks of Hercules. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>431.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Opinions of Opponents.</hi>—In order to +measure the natural subtlety or weakness of even +the cleverest heads, we must consider the manner +in which they take up and reproduce the opinions +of their adversaries, for the natural measure of +any intellect is thereby revealed. The perfect sage +involuntarily idealises his opponent and frees his +inconsistencies from all defects and accidentalities: +he only takes up arms against him when he has +thus turned his opponent into a god with shining +weapons. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>432.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Investigator and Attempter.</hi>—There is no +exclusive method of knowing in science. We must +<pb n='315'/><anchor id='Pg315'/> +deal with things tentatively, treating them by turns +harshly or justly, passionately or coldly. One investigator +deals with things like a policeman, another like +a confessor, and yet a third like an inquisitive traveller. +We force something from them now by sympathy +and now by violence: the one is urged onward +and led to see clearly by the veneration which the +secrets of the things inspire in him, and the other +again by the indiscretion and malice met with in +the explanation of these secrets. We investigators, +like all conquerors, explorers, navigators, and adventurers, +are men of a daring morality, and we +must put up with our liability to be in the main +looked upon as evil. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>433.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Seeing with new Eyes.</hi>—Presuming that by +the term <q>beauty in art</q> is always implied the +imitation of something that is happy—and this I +consider to be true—according as an age or a +people or a great autocratic individuality represents +happiness: what then is disclosed by the +so-called realism of our modern artists in regard to +the happiness of our epoch? It is undoubtedly its +type of beauty which we now understand most +easily and enjoy best of any. As a consequence, +we are induced to believe that this happiness which +is now peculiar to us is based on realism, on the +sharpest possible senses, and on the true conception +of the actual—that is to say, not upon reality, but +upon what we know of reality. The results of +science have already gained so much in depth and +extent that the artists of our century have involuntarily +<pb n='316'/><anchor id='Pg316'/> +become the glorifiers of scientific <q>blessings</q> +<hi rend='italic'>per se</hi>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>434.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Intercession.</hi>—Unpretentious regions are subjects +for great landscape painters; remarkable and +rare regions for inferior painters: for the great things +of nature and humanity must intercede in favour of +their little, mediocre, and vain admirers—whereas +the great man intercedes in favour of unassuming +things. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>435.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Not to perish unnoticed.</hi>—It is not only +once but continuously that our excellence and +greatness are constantly crumbling away; the +weeds that grow among everything and cling to +everything ruin all that is great in us—the wretchedness +of our surroundings, which we always try to +overlook and which is before our eyes at every hour +of the day, the innumerable little roots of mean and +petty feelings which we allow to grow up all about +us, in our office, among our companions, or our +daily labours. If we permit these small weeds to +escape our notice we shall perish through them unnoticed!—And, +if you must perish, then do so immediately +and suddenly; for in that case you will +perhaps leave proud ruins behind you! and not, as +is now to be feared, merely molehills, covered with +grass and weeds—these petty and miserable conquerors, +as humble as ever, and too wretched even +to triumph. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='317'/><anchor id='Pg317'/> + +<div> +<head>436.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Casuistic.</hi>—We are confronted with a very +bitter and painful dilemma, for the solution of which +not every one's bravery and character are equal: +when, as passengers on board a steamer, we discover +that the captain and the helmsman are making +dangerous mistakes, and that we are their superiors in +nautical science—and then we ask ourselves: <q>What +would happen if we organised a mutiny against +them, and made them both prisoners? Is it not +our duty to do so in view of our superiority? and +would not they in their turn be justified in putting +us in irons for encouraging disobedience?</q> +</p> + +<p> +This is a simile for higher and worse situations; +and the final question to be decided is, What +guarantees our superiority and our faith in ourselves +in such a case? Success? but in order to do that +we must do the very thing in which all the danger +lies—not only dangerous for ourselves, but also for +the ship. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>437.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Privileges.</hi>—The man who really owns himself, +that is to say, he who has finally conquered himself, +regards it as his own right to punish, to +pardon, or to pity himself: he need not concede this +privilege to any one, though he may freely bestow +it upon some one else—a friend, for example—but +he knows that in doing this he is conferring a right, +and that rights can only be conferred by one who +is in full possession of power. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='318'/><anchor id='Pg318'/> + +<div> +<head>438.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Man and Things.</hi>—Why does the man not see +the things? He himself is in the way: he conceals +the things. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>439.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Characteristics of Happiness.</hi>—There are +two things common to all sensations of happiness: +a profusion of feelings, accompanied by animal +spirits, so that, like the fishes, we feel ourselves to +be in our element and play about in it. Good +Christians will understand what Christian exuberance +means. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>440.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Never Renounce.</hi>—Renouncing the world +without knowing it, like a nun, results in a fruitless +and perhaps melancholy solitude. This has nothing +in common with the solitude of the <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>vita contemplativa</foreign> +of the thinker: when he chooses this form +of solitude he wishes to renounce nothing; but he +would on the contrary regard it as a renunciation, +a melancholy destruction of his own self, if he were +obliged to continue in the <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>vita practica</foreign>. He forgoes +this latter because he knows it, because he +knows himself. So he jumps into <emph>his</emph> water, and +thus gains <emph>his</emph> cheerfulness. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>441.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Why the nearest Things become ever +more distant for Us.</hi>—The more we give up +<pb n='319'/><anchor id='Pg319'/> +our minds to all that has been and will be, the paler +will become that which actually is. When we live +with the dead and participate in their death, what are +our <q>neighbours</q> to us? We grow lonelier simply +because the entire flood of humanity is surging +round about us. The fire that burns within us, and +glows for all that is human, is continually increasing—and +hence we look upon everything that surrounds +us as if it had become more indifferent, more +shadowy,—but our cold glance is offensive. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>442.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Rule.</hi>—<q>The rule always appears to me to +be more interesting than the exception</q>—whoever +thinks thus has made considerable progress in +knowledge, and is one of the initiated. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>443.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>On Education.</hi>—I have gradually come to see +daylight in regard to the most general defect in +our methods of education and training: nobody +learns, nobody teaches, nobody wishes, to endure +solitude. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>444.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Surprise at Resistance.</hi>—Because we have +reached the point of being able to see through a +thing we believe that henceforth it can offer us no +further resistance—and then we are surprised to +find that we can see through it and yet cannot penetrate +<pb n='320'/><anchor id='Pg320'/> +through it. This is the same kind of foolishness +and surprise as that of the fly on a pane of +glass. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>445.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Where the Noblest are Mistaken.</hi>—We +give some one at length our dearest and most valued +possession, and then love has nothing more to give: +but the recipient of the gift will certainly not consider +it as his dearest possession, and will consequently +be wanting in that full and complete gratitude +which we expect from him. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>446.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Hierarchy.</hi>—First and foremost, there are the +superficial thinkers, and secondly the profound +thinkers—such as dive into the depths of a thing,—thirdly, +the thorough thinkers, who get to the bottom +of a thing—which is of much greater importance +than merely diving into its depths,—and, finally, +those who leap head foremost into the marsh: +though this must not be looked upon as indicating +either depth or thoroughness! these are the lovers +of obscurity.<note place='foot'>The play upon the words <foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>gründlich</foreign> (thorough) thinkers, +and <foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Untergründlichen</foreign> (lit. those underground) cannot be +rendered in English.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>447.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Master and Pupil.</hi>—By cautioning his pupils +against himself the teacher shows his humanity. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='321'/><anchor id='Pg321'/> + +<div> +<head>448.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Honouring Reality.</hi>—How can we look at +this exulting multitude without tears and acquiescence? +at one time we thought little of the object +of their exultation, and we should still think so if +we ourselves had not come through a similar experience. +And what may these experiences lead us to! +what are our opinions! In order that we may not +lose ourselves and our reason we must fly from +experiences. It was thus that Plato fled from actuality, +and wished to contemplate things only in their +pale mental concepts: he was full of sensitiveness, +and knew how easily the waves of this sensitiveness +would drown his reason.—Must the sage therefore +say, <q>I will honour reality, but I will at the same +time turn my back to it because I know and dread +it?</q> Ought he to behave as certain African tribes +do in the presence of their sovereign, whom they +approach backwards, thus showing their reverence +at the same time as their dread? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>449.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Where are the poor in Spirit?</hi>—Oh, how +greatly it goes against my grain to impose my +own thoughts upon others! How I rejoice over +every mood and secret change within me as the +result of which the thoughts of others are victorious +over my own! but from time to time I enjoy an +even greater satisfaction, when I am allowed to +give away my intellectual possessions, like the +confessor sitting in his box and anxiously awaiting +<pb n='322'/><anchor id='Pg322'/> +the arrival of some distressed person who stands +in need of consolation, and will be only too glad to +relate the full misery of his thoughts so that the +listener's hand and heart will once again be filled, +and the troubled soul eased! Not only has the +confessor no desire for renown: he would fain shun +gratitude as well, for it is obtrusive, and does not +stand in awe of solitude or silence. +</p> + +<p> +But to live without a name, and even to be +slightly sneered at; too obscure to arouse envy or +enmity; with a head free from fever, a handful +of knowledge, and a pocketful of experience; a +physician, as it were, of the poor in spirit, helping +this one or that one whose head is troubled with +opinions, without the latter perceiving who has +actually helped him! without any desire to appear +to be in the right in the presence of his patient, or +to carry off a victory. To speak to him in such a +way that, after a short and almost imperceptible +hint or objection, the listener may find out for himself +what is right and proudly walk away! To be +like an obscure and unknown inn which turns no one +away who is in need, but which is afterwards forgotten +and laughed at! To be without any advantages +over others—neither possessing better food +nor purer air, nor a more cheerful mind—but always +to be giving away, returning, communicating, and +becoming poorer! To know how to be humble in +order to be accessible to many people and humiliating +to none! To take a great deal of injustice +on his shoulders and creep through the cracks and +crannies of all kinds of errors, in order that we may +reach many obscure souls on their secret paths! +<pb n='323'/><anchor id='Pg323'/> +ever in possession of some kind of love, and some +kind of egoism and self-enjoyment! in possession +of power, and yet at the same time hidden and +resigned! constantly basking in the sunshine and +sweetness of grace, and yet knowing that quite near +to us stands the ladder leading to the sublime!—that +would be life! that would indeed be a reason +for a long life! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>450.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Temptations of Knowledge.</hi>—A +glance through the gate of science acts upon +passionate spirits as the charm of charms: they will +probably become dreamers, or in the most favourable +cases poets, so great is their desire for the +happiness of the man who can discern. Does it not +enter into all your senses, this note of sweet temptation +by which science has announced its joyful +message in a thousand ways, and in the thousand +and first way, the noblest of all, <q>Begone, illusion! +for then <q>Woe is me</q> also vanished, and with it woe +itself is gone</q> (Marcus Aurelius). +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>451.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>For whom a Court Jester is needful.</hi>—Those +who are very beautiful, very good, and very +powerful scarcely ever learn the full and naked truth +about anything,—for in their presence we involuntarily +lie a little, because we feel their influence, and +in view of this influence convey a truth in the form +of an adaptation (by falsifying the shades and +<pb n='324'/><anchor id='Pg324'/> +degrees of facts, by omitting or adding details, and +withholding that which is insusceptible of adaptation). +If, however, in spite of all this, people of this +description insist upon hearing the truth, they must +keep a court jester—a being with the madman's +privilege of being unable to adapt himself. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>452.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Impatience.</hi>—There is a certain degree of impatience +in men of thought and action, which in +cases of failure at once drives them to the opposite +camp, induces them to take a great interest in it, +and to give themselves up to new undertakings—until +here again the slowness of their success drives +them away. Thus they rove about, like so many +reckless adventurers, through the practices of many +kingdoms and natures; and in the end, as the +result of their wide knowledge of men and things, +acquired by their unheard of travel and practice, and +with a certain moderation of their craving, they become +powerful practical men. Hence a defect in +character may become the school of genius. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>453.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Moral Interregnum.</hi>—Who is now in a +position to describe that which will one day supplant +moral feelings and judgments!—however certain we +may be that these are founded on error, and that +the building erected upon such foundations cannot +be repaired: their obligation must gradually diminish +from day to day, in so far as the obligation of reason +<pb n='325'/><anchor id='Pg325'/> +does not diminish! To carry out the task of re-establishing +the laws of life and action is still beyond +the power of our sciences of physiology and medicine, +society and solitude: though it is only from them +that we can borrow the foundation-stones of new +ideals (but not the ideals themselves). Thus we +live a preliminary or after existence, according to +our tastes and talents, and the best we can do in +this interregnum is to be as much as possible our +own <q><foreign rend='italic'>reges</foreign>,</q> and to establish small experimental +states. We are experiments: if we want to be +so! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>454.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Digression.</hi>—A book like this is not intended +to be read through at once, or to be read aloud. +It is intended more particularly for reference, +especially on our walks and travels: we must take +it up and put it down again after a short reading, +and, more especially, we ought not to be amongst +our usual surroundings. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>455.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Primary Nature.</hi>—As we are now +brought up, we begin by acquiring a secondary +nature, and we possess it when the world calls us +mature, of age, efficient. A few have sufficient of +the serpent about them to cast this skin some day, +when their primary nature has come to maturity +under it. But in the majority of people the germ +of it withers away. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='326'/><anchor id='Pg326'/> + +<div> +<head>456.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Virtue in Process of Becoming.</hi>—Such +assertions and promises as those of the ancient +philosophers on the unity of virtue and felicity, or +that of Christianity, <q>Seek ye first the Kingdom +of God and His righteousness, and all these things +shall be added unto you,</q> have never been made +with absolute sincerity, but always without a bad +conscience nevertheless. People were in the habit +of boldly laying down principles—which they +wished to be true—exactly as if they were truth +itself, in spite of all appearances to the contrary, and +in doing this they felt neither religious nor moral +compunction; for it was <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>in honorem maiorem</foreign> of +virtue or of God that one had gone beyond truth, +without, however, any selfish intention! +</p> + +<p> +Many good people still act up to this degree of +truthfulness: when they feel unselfish they think it +permissible to treat truth more lightly. Let it be +remembered that the word honesty is neither to be +found among the Socratic nor the Christian virtues: +it is one of our most recent virtues, not yet quite +mature, frequently misconstrued and misunderstood, +scarcely conscious of itself—something in +embryo, which we may either promote or check +according to our inclination. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>457.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Final Taciturnity.</hi>—There are some men +who fare like the digger after hidden treasures: +they quite accidentally discover the carefully-preserved +<pb n='327'/><anchor id='Pg327'/> +secrets of another's soul, and as a result +come into the possession of knowledge which it is +often a heavy burden to bear. In certain circumstances +we may know the living and the dead, and +sound their inmost thoughts to such an extent that +it becomes painful to us to speak to others about +them: at every word we utter we are afraid of being +indiscreet.—I can easily imagine a sudden silence +on the part of the wisest historian. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>458.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Great Prize.</hi>—There is a very rare thing, +but a very delightful one, viz. the man with a +nobly-formed intellect who possesses at the same +time the character and inclinations, and even +meets with the experiences, suited to such an +intellect. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>459.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Magnanimity of the Thinker.</hi>—Both +Rousseau and Schopenhauer were proud enough +to inscribe upon their lives the motto, <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>Vitam +impendere vero</foreign>. And how they both must have +suffered in their pride because they could not succeed +in <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>verum impendere vitæ!</foreign>—<foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>verum</foreign>, such as each +of them understood it,—when their lives ran side +by side with their knowledge like an uncouth bass +which is not in tune with the melody. +</p> + +<p> +Knowledge, however, would be in a bad way if +it were measured out to every thinker only in +proportion as it can be adapted to his own person. +And thinkers would be in a bad way if their vanity +<pb n='328'/><anchor id='Pg328'/> +were so great that they could only endure such an +adaptation, for the noblest virtue of a great thinker +is his magnanimity, which urges him on in his search +for knowledge to sacrifice himself and his life unshrinkingly, +often shamefacedly, and often with +sublime scorn, and smiling. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>460.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Utilising our Hours of Danger.</hi>—Those +men and conditions whose every movement may +mean danger to our possessions, honour, and life or +death, and to those most dear to us, we shall +naturally learn to know thoroughly. Tiberius, +for instance, must have meditated much more +deeply on the character and methods of government +of the Emperor Augustus, and must have known +far more about them than even the wisest historian. +</p> + +<p> +At the present day we all live, relatively speaking, +in a security which is much too great to make +us true psychologists: some survey their fellow-men +as a hobby, others out of ennui, and others again +merely from habit; but never to the extent they +would do if they were told <q>Discern or perish!</q> +As long as truths do not cut us to the quick we +assume an attitude of contempt towards them: +they still appear to us too much like the <q>winged +dreams,</q> as if we could or could not have them at +our discretion, as if we could likewise be aroused +from these truths as from a dream! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>461.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><foreign rend='italic'>Hic Rhodus, Hic Salta.</foreign></hi>—Our music, which +can and must change into everything, because +<pb n='329'/><anchor id='Pg329'/> +like the demon of the sea, it has no character of +its own: this music in former times devoted its +attention to the Christian savant, and transposed +his ideals into sounds: why cannot it likewise find +those brighter, more cheerful, and universal sounds +which correspond to the ideal thinker?—a music +which could rock itself at ease in the vast floating +vaults of the soul? So far our music has been so +great and so good; nothing seemed impossible to +its powers. May it therefore prove possible to +create these three sensations at one time: sublimity, +deep and warm light, and rapture of the greatest +possible consistency! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>462.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Slow Cures.</hi>—Chronic illnesses of the soul, +like those of the body, are very rarely due to one +gross offence against physical and mental reason, +but as a general rule they arise from innumerable +and petty negligences of a minor order.—A man, +for example, whose breathing becomes a trifle +weaker every day, and whose lungs, by inhaling +too little air, are deprived of their proper amount +of exercise, will end by being struck down by some +chronic disease of the lungs. The only remedy for +cases like these is a countless number of minor +exercises of a contrary tendency—making it a +rule, for example, to take a long and deep breath +every quarter of an hour, lying flat on the ground +if possible. For this purpose a clock which strikes +the quarters should be chosen as a lifelong companion. +</p> + +<p> +All these remedies are slow and trifling; but +<pb n='330'/><anchor id='Pg330'/> +yet the man who wishes to cure his soul will +carefully consider a change, even in his least +important habits. Many a man will utter a cold +and angry word to his surroundings ten times a +day without thinking about it, and he will forget +that after a few years it will have become a regular +habit with him to put his surroundings out of +temper ten times a day. But he can also acquire +the habit of doing good to them ten times. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>463.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>On the Seventh Day.</hi>—<q>You praise this +as my creation? but I have only put aside what +was a burden to me! my soul is above the vanity +of creators.—You praise this as my resignation? +but I have only stripped myself of what had become +burdensome! My soul is above the vanity of the +resigned ones!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>464.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Donor's Modesty.</hi>—There is such a +want of generosity in always posing as the donor +and benefactor, and showing one's face when doing +so! But to give and bestow, and at the same time +to conceal one's name and favour! or not to have +a name at all, like nature, in whom this fact is more +refreshing to us than anything else—here at last +we no more meet with the giver and bestower, +no more with a <q>gracious countenance.</q>—It is +true that you have now forfeited even this comfort, +for you have placed a God in this nature—and +now everything is once again fettered and oppressed! +Well? are we never to have the right of +<pb n='331'/><anchor id='Pg331'/> +remaining alone with ourselves? are we always +to be watched, guarded, surrounded by leading +strings and gifts? If there is always some one +round about us, the best part of courage and kindness +will ever remain impossible of attainment in +this world. Are we not tempted to fly to hell +before this continual obtrusiveness of heaven, this +inevitable supernatural neighbour? Never mind, +it was only a dream; let us wake up! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>465.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>At a Meeting.</hi>— +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> What are you looking at? you have been +standing here for a very long time. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> Always the new and the old over again! +the helplessness of a thing urges me on to plunge +into it so deeply that I end by penetrating to its +deepest depths, and perceive that in reality it is +not worth so very much. At the end of all +experiences of this kind we meet with a kind of +sorrow and stupor. I experience this on a small +scale several times a day. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>466.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Loss of Renown.</hi>—What an advantage it +is to be able to speak as a stranger to mankind! +When they take away our anonymity, and make +us famous, the gods deprive us of <q>half our virtue.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>467.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Doubly Patient.</hi>—<q>By doing this you will +hurt many people.</q>—I know that, and I also know +<pb n='332'/><anchor id='Pg332'/> +that I shall have to suffer for it doubly: in the +first place out of pity for their suffering, and secondly +from the revenge they will take on me. But in +spite of this I cannot help doing what I do. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>468.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Kingdom of Beauty is Greater.</hi>—We +move about in nature, cunning and cheerful, in order +that we may surprise everything in the beauty +peculiar to it; we make an effort, whether in sunshine +or under a stormy sky, to see a distant part +of the coast with its rocks, bays, and olive and +pine trees under an aspect in which it achieves its +perfection and consummation. Thus also we should +walk about among men as their discoverers and +explorers, meting out to them good and evil in +order that we may unveil the peculiar beauty which +is seen with some in the sunshine, in others under +thunder-clouds, or with others again only in twilight +and under a rainy sky. +</p> + +<p> +Are we then forbidden to enjoy the evil man +like some savage landscape which possesses its own +bold and daring lines and luminous effects, while +this same man, so long as he behaves well, and in +conformity with the law, appears to us to be an +error of drawing, and a mere caricature which +offends us like a defect in nature?—Yes, this is +forbidden: for as yet we have only been permitted +to seek beauty in anything that is morally good,—and +this is sufficient to explain why we have found +so little and have been compelled to look for beauty +without either flesh or bones!—in the same way as +<pb n='333'/><anchor id='Pg333'/> +evil men are familiar with innumerable kinds of +happiness which the virtuous never dream of, we +may also find among them innumerable types of +beauty, many of them as yet undiscovered. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>469.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Inhumanity of the Sage.</hi>—The heavy +and grinding progress of the sage, who in the +words of the Buddhist song, <q>Wanders lonely like +the rhinoceros,</q> now and again stands in need of +proofs of a conciliatory and softened humanity, and +not only proofs of those accelerated steps, those +polite and sociable witticisms; not only of humour +and a certain self-mockery, but likewise of contradictions +and occasional returns to the predominating +inconsistencies. In order that he may not resemble +the heavy roller that rolls along like fate, the sage +who wishes to teach must take advantage of his +defects, and utilise them for his own adornment; +and when saying <q>despise me</q> he will implore +permission to be the advocate of a presumptuous +truth. +</p> + +<p> +This sage wishes to lead you to the mountains, +and he will perhaps endanger your life: therefore +as the price of his enjoyment he willingly authorises +you to take your revenge either before or afterwards +on such a guide. Do you remember what +thoughts came into your head when he once led +you to a gloomy cavern over a slippery path? Your +distrustful heart beat rapidly, and said inwardly, +<q>This guide might surely do something better +than crawl about here! he is one of those idle +<pb n='334'/><anchor id='Pg334'/> +people who are full of curiosity—is it not doing +him too much honour to appear to attach any +value at all to him by following him?</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>470.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Many at the Banquet.</hi>—How happy we are +when we are fed like the birds by the hand of +some one who throws them their crumbs without +examining them too closely, or inquiring into their +worthiness! To live like a bird which comes and +flies away, and does not carry its name on its beak! +I take great pleasure in satisfying my appetite at +the banquet of the many. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>471.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Another type of Love for one's Neighbour.</hi>—Everything +that is agitated, noisy, fitful, +and nervous forms a contrast to the great passion +which, glowing in the heart of man like a quiet and +gloomy flame, and gathering about it all that is +flaming and ardent, gives to man the appearance +of coldness and indifference, and stamps a certain +impassiveness on his features. Such men are occasionally +capable of showing their love for their +neighbour, but this love is different from that of +sociable people who are anxious to please. It is +a mild, contemplative, and calm amiability: these +people, as it were, look out of the windows of the +castle which serves them as a stronghold, and consequently +as a prison; for the outlook into the far +distance, the open air, and a different world is so +pleasant for them! +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='335'/><anchor id='Pg335'/> + +<div> +<head>472.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Not Justifying Oneself.</hi>— +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> But why are you not willing to justify +yourself? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> I could do it in this instance, as in dozens +of others; but I despise the pleasure which lies in +justification, for all that matters little to me, and I +would rather bear a stained reputation than give +those petty folks the spiteful pleasure of saying, +<q>He takes these things very seriously.</q> This is not +true. Perhaps I ought to have more consideration +for myself, and look upon it as a duty to rectify +erroneous opinions about myself—I am too indifferent +and too indolent regarding myself, and +consequently also regarding everything that is +brought about through my agency. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>473.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Where to Build one's House.</hi>—If you feel +great and productive in solitude, society will belittle +and isolate you, and <hi rend='italic'>vice versa</hi>. A powerful mildness +such as that of a father:—wherever this feeling +takes possession of you, <emph>there</emph> build your house, +whether in the midst of the multitude, or on some +silent spot. <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>Ubi pater sum, ibi patria.</foreign><note place='foot'>A variation of the well-known proverb, <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>Ubi bene, ibi +patria</foreign>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>474.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The only Means.</hi>—<q>Dialectic is the only +means of reaching the divine essence, and penetrating +<pb n='336'/><anchor id='Pg336'/> +behind the veil of appearance.</q> This declaration +of Plato in regard to dialectic is as solemn and +passionate as that of Schopenhauer in regard to the +contrary of dialectic—and both are wrong. For +that to which they wish to point out the way to us +does not exist.—And so far have not all the great +passions of mankind been passions for something +non-existent?—and all their ceremonies—ceremonies +for something non-existent also? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>475.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Becoming Heavy.</hi>—You know him not; whatever +weights he may attach to himself he will +nevertheless be able to raise them all with him. +But you, judging from the weak flapping of your +own wings, come to the conclusion that he wishes +to remain below, merely because he does burden +himself with those weights. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>476.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>At the Harvest Thanksgiving of the +Intellect.</hi>—There is a daily increase and accumulation +of experiences, events, opinions upon +these experiences and events, and dreams upon +these opinions—a boundless and delightful display +of wealth! its aspect dazzles the eyes: I can no +longer understand how the poor in spirit can be +called blessed! Occasionally, however, I envy +them when I am tired: for the superintendence of +such vast wealth is no easy task, and its weight +frequently crushes all happiness.—Alas, if only the +<pb n='337'/><anchor id='Pg337'/> +mere sight of it were sufficient! If only we could +be misers of our knowledge! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>477.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Freed from Scepticism.</hi>— +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> Some men emerge from a general moral +scepticism bad-tempered and feeble, corroded, +worm-eaten, and even partly consumed—but I on +the other hand, more courageous and healthier than +ever, and with my instincts conquered once more. +Where a strong wind blows, where the waves are +rolling angrily, and where more than usual danger +is to be faced, there I feel happy. I did not +become a worm, although I often had to work and +dig like a worm. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> You have just ceased to be a sceptic; for +you deny! +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> And in doing so I have learnt to say yea +again. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>478.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Let us pass by.</hi>—Spare him! Leave him in +his solitude! Do you wish to crush him down +entirely? He became cracked like a glass into +which some hot liquid was poured suddenly—and +he was such a precious glass! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>479.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Love and Truthfulness.</hi>—Through our love +we have become dire offenders against truth, and +even habitual dissimulators and thieves, who give +<pb n='338'/><anchor id='Pg338'/> +out more things as true than seem to us to be +true. On this account the thinker must from time +to time drive away those whom he loves (not +necessarily those who love him), so that they may +show their sting and wickedness, and cease to +tempt him. Consequently the kindness of the +thinker will have its waning and waxing moon. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>480.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Inevitable.</hi>—No matter what your experience +may be, any one who does not feel well disposed +towards you will find in this experience some pretext +for disparaging you! You may undergo the +greatest possible revolutions of mind and knowledge, +and at length, with the melancholy smile of +the convalescent, you may be able to step out into +freedom and bright stillness, and yet some one will +say: <q>This fellow looks upon his illness as an +argument, and takes his impotence to be a proof +of the impotence of all others—he is vain enough +to fall ill that he may feel the superiority of the +sufferer.</q> And again, if somebody were to break +the chains that bound him down, and wounded +himself severely in doing so, some one else would +point at him mockingly and cry: <q>How awkward +he is! there is a man who had got accustomed to +his chains, and yet he is fool enough to burst them +asunder!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>481.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Two Germans.</hi>—If we compare Kant and +Schopenhauer with Plato, Spinoza, Pascal, Rousseau, +and Goethe, with reference to their souls +<pb n='339'/><anchor id='Pg339'/> +and not their intellects, we shall see that the two +first-named thinkers are at a disadvantage: their +thoughts do not constitute a passionate history of +their souls—we are not led to expect in them +romance, crises, catastrophies, or death struggles. +Their thinking is not at the same time the involuntary +biography of a soul, but in the case of +Kant merely of a head; and in the case of +Schopenhauer again merely the description and +reflection of a character (<q>the invariable</q>) and the +pleasure which this reflection causes, that is to say, +the pleasure of meeting with an intellect of the +first order. +</p> + +<p> +Kant, when he shimmers through his thoughts, +appears to us as an honest and honourable man +in the best sense of the words, but likewise as an +insignificant one: he is wanting in breadth and +power; he had not come through many experiences, +and his method of working did not allow +him sufficient time to undergo experiences. Of +course, in speaking of experiences, I do not refer +to the ordinary external events of life, but to those +fatalities and convulsions which occur in the course +of the most solitary and quiet life which has some +leisure and glows with the passion for thinking. +Schopenhauer has at all events one advantage over +him; for he at least was distinguished by a certain +fierce ugliness of disposition, which showed itself in +hatred, desire, vanity, and suspicion: he was of a +rather more ferocious disposition, and had both +time and leisure to indulge this ferocity. But he +lacked <q>development,</q> which was also wanting in +his range of thought: he had no <q>history.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='340'/><anchor id='Pg340'/> + +<div> +<head>482.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Seeking one's Company.</hi>—Are we then looking +for too much when we seek the company of +men who have grown mild, agreeable to the taste, +and nutritive, like chestnuts which have been put +into the fire and taken out just at the right +moment? Of men who expect little from life, and +prefer to accept this little as a present rather than +as a merit of their own, as if it were carried to them +by birds and bees? Of men who are too proud +ever to feel themselves rewarded, and too serious +in their passion for knowledge and honesty to have +time for or pleasure in fame? Such men we +should call philosophers; but they themselves will +always find some more modest designation. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>483.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Satiated with Mankind.</hi>— +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> Seek for knowledge! Yes! but always as a +man! What? must I always be a spectator of the +same comedy, and always play a part in the same +comedy, without ever being able to observe things +with other eyes than those? and yet there may be +countless types of beings whose organs are better +adapted for knowledge than ours! At the end of +all their searching for knowledge what will men +at length come to know? Their organs! which +perhaps is as much as to say: the impossibility of +knowledge! misery and disgust! +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> This is a bad attack you have—reason is +attacking you! to-morrow, however, you will again +<pb n='341'/><anchor id='Pg341'/> +be in the midst of knowledge, and hence of irrationality—that +is to say, delighted about all that +is human. Let us go to the sea! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>484.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Going our own Way.</hi>—When we take the +decisive step, and make up our minds to follow +our own path, a secret is suddenly revealed to us: +it is clear that all those who had hitherto been +friendly to us and on intimate terms with us judged +themselves to be superior to us, and are offended +now. The best among them are indulgent, and +are content to wait patiently until we once more +find the <q>right path</q>—they know it, apparently. +Others make fun of us, and pretend that we have +been seized with a temporary attack of mild insanity, +or spitefully point out some seducer. The +more malicious say we are vain fools, and do their +best to blacken our motives; while the worst of all +see in us their greatest enemy, some one who is +thirsting for revenge after many years of dependence,—and +are afraid of us. What, then, are we +to do? My own opinion is that we should begin +our sovereignty by promising to all our acquaintances +in advance a whole year's amnesty for sins +of every kind. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>485.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Far-off Perspectives.</hi>— +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> But why this solitude? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> I am not angry with anybody. But when +I am alone it seems to me that I can see my +friends in a clearer and rosier light than when I +<pb n='342'/><anchor id='Pg342'/> +am with them; and when I loved and felt music +best I lived far from it. It would seem that I +must have distant perspectives in order that I +may think well of things. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>486.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Gold and Hunger.</hi>—Here and there we +meet with a man who changes into gold everything +that he touches. But some fine evil day he will +discover that he himself must starve through this +gift of his. Everything around him is brilliant, +superb, and unapproachable in its ideal beauty, +and now he eagerly longs for things which it is +impossible for him to turn into gold—and how +intense is this longing! like that of a starving man +for a meal! Query: What will he seize? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>487.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Shame.</hi>—Look at that noble steed pawing the +ground, snorting, longing for a ride, and loving its +accustomed rider—but, shameful to relate, the rider +cannot mount to-day, he is tired.—Such is the +shame felt by the weary thinker in the presence +of his own philosophy! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>488.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Against the Waste of Love.</hi>—Do we not +blush when we surprise ourselves in a state of +violent aversion? Well, then, we should also blush +when we find ourselves possessed of strong affections +on account of the injustice contained in them. More: +<pb n='343'/><anchor id='Pg343'/> +there are people who feel their hearts weighed down +and oppressed when some one gives them the benefit +of his love and sympathy to the extent that he +deprives others of a share. The tone of his voice +reveals to us the fact that we have been specially +selected and preferred! but, alas! I am not thankful +for being thus selected: I experience within myself +a certain feeling of resentment against him who +wishes to distinguish me in this way—he shall not +love me at the expense of others! I shall always +try to look after myself and to endure myself, and +my heart is often filled to overflowing, and with +some reason. To such a man nothing ought to be +given of which others stand so greatly in need. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>489.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Friends in Need.</hi>—We may occasionally +remark that one of our friends sympathises with +another more than with us. His delicacy is troubled +thereby, and his selfishness is not equal to the task +of breaking down his feelings of affection: in such +a case we should facilitate the separation for him, +and estrange him in some way in order to widen +the distance between us.—This is also necessary +when we fall into a habit of thinking which might +be detrimental to him: our affection for him +should induce us to ease his conscience in separating +himself from us by means of some injustice which +we voluntarily take upon ourselves. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>490.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Those petty Truths.</hi>—<q>You know all that, +but you have never lived through it—so I will not +<pb n='344'/><anchor id='Pg344'/> +accept your evidence. Those <q>petty truths</q>—you +deem them petty because you have not paid for +them with your blood!</q>—But are they really great, +simply because they have been bought at so high a +price? and blood is always too high a price!—<q>Do +you really think so? How stingy you are with your +blood!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>491.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Solitude, therefore!</hi>— +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> So you wish to go back to your desert? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> I am not a quick thinker; I must wait for +myself a long time—it is always later and later +before the water from the fountain of my own ego +spurts forth, and I have often to go thirsty longer +than suits my patience. That is why I retire into +solitude in order that I may not have to drink from +the common cisterns. When I live in the midst +of the multitude my life is like theirs, and I do not +think like myself; but after some time it always +seems to me as if the multitude wished to banish +me from myself and to rob me of my soul. Then +I get angry with all these people, and afraid of them; +and I must have the desert to become well disposed +again. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>492.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Under the South Wind.</hi>— +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> I can no longer understand myself! It was +only yesterday that I felt myself so tempestuous and +ardent, and at the same time so warm and sunny +and exceptionally bright! but to-day! Now +everything is calm, wide, oppressive, and dark like +the lagoon at Venice. I wish for nothing, and +<pb n='345'/><anchor id='Pg345'/> +draw a deep breath, and yet I feel inwardly indignant +at this <q>wish for nothing</q>—so the waves +rise and fall in the ocean of my melancholy. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> You describe a petty, agreeable illness. The +next wind from the north-east will blow it away. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> Why so? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>493.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>On One's own Tree.</hi>— +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> No thinker's thoughts give me so much +pleasure as my own: this, of course, proves nothing +in favour of their value; but I should be foolish to +neglect fruits which are tasteful to me only because +they happen to grow on my own tree!—and I was +once such a fool. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>B.</hi> Others have the contrary feeling: which likewise +proves nothing in favour of their thoughts, nor +yet is it any argument against their value. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>494.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Last Argument of the Brave Man.</hi>—There +are snakes in this little clump of trees.—Very +well, I will rush into the thicket and kill them.—But +by doing that you will run the risk of falling +a victim to them, and not they to you.—But what +do I matter? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>495.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Our Teachers.</hi>—During our period of youth +we select our teachers and guides from our own +times, and from those circles which we happen to +meet with: we have the thoughtless conviction that +the present age must have teachers who will suit +<pb n='346'/><anchor id='Pg346'/> +us better than any others, and that we are sure to +find them without having to look very far. Later +on we find that we have to pay a heavy penalty +for this childishness: we have to expiate our teachers +in ourselves, and then perhaps we begin to look for +the proper guides. We look for them throughout +the whole world, including even present and past +ages—but perhaps it may be too late, and at the +worst we discover that they lived when we were +young—and that at that time we lost our opportunity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>496.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Evil Principle.</hi>—Plato has marvellously +described how the philosophic thinker must necessarily +be regarded as the essence of depravity in +the midst of every existing society: for as the critic +of all its morals he is naturally the antagonist of +the moral man, and, unless he succeeds in becoming +the legislator of new morals, he lives long in the +memory of men as an instance of the <q>evil principle.</q> +From this we may judge to how great an extent +the city of Athens, although fairly liberal and fond +of innovations, abused the reputation of Plato during +his lifetime. What wonder then that he—who, as +he has himself recorded, had the <q>political instinct</q> +in his body—made three different attempts in +Sicily, where at that time a united Mediterranean +Greek State appeared to be in process of formation? +</p> + +<p> +It was in this State, and with its assistance, that +Plato thought he could do for the Greeks what +Mohammed did for the Arabs several centuries later: +viz. establishing both minor and more important +<pb n='347'/><anchor id='Pg347'/> +customs, and especially regulating the daily life of +every man. His ideas were quite practicable just +as certainly as those of Mohammed were practicable; +for even much more incredible ideas, those +of Christianity, proved themselves to be practicable! +a few hazards less and a few hazards more—and +then the world would have witnessed the +Platonisation of Southern Europe; and, if we +suppose that this state of things had continued to +our own days, we should probably be worshipping +Plato now as the <q>good principle.</q> But he was unsuccessful, +and so his traditional character remains +that of a dreamer and a Utopian—stronger epithets +than these passed away with ancient Athens. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>497.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Purifying Eye.</hi>—We have the best reason +for speaking of <q>genius</q> in men—for example, +Plato, Spinoza, and Goethe—whose minds appear +to be but loosely linked to their character and +temperament, like winged beings which easily +separate themselves from them, and then rise far +above them. On the other hand, those who never +succeeded in cutting themselves loose from their +temperament, and who knew how to give to it the +most intellectual, lofty, and at times even cosmic +expression (Schopenhauer, for instance) have always +been very fond of speaking about their genius. +</p> + +<p> +These geniuses could not rise above themselves, +but they believed that, fly where they would, they +would always find and recover themselves—this is +their <q>greatness,</q> and this can be greatness!—The +<pb n='348'/><anchor id='Pg348'/> +others who are entitled to this name possess the +pure and purifying eye which does not seem to have +sprung out of their temperament and character, but +separately from them, and generally in contradiction +to them, and looks out upon the world as on a +God whom it loves. But even people like these do +not come into possession of such an eye all at once: +they require practice and a preliminary school of +sight, and he who is really fortunate will at the right +moment also fall in with a teacher of pure sight. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>498.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Never Demand!</hi>—You do not know him! it +is true that he easily and readily submits both to +men and things, and that he is kind to both—his +only wish is to be left in peace—but only in so far +as men and things do not <emph>demand</emph> his submission. +Any demand makes him proud, bashful, and warlike. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>499.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Evil One.</hi>—<q>Only the solitary are evil!</q>—thus +spake Diderot, and Rousseau at once felt +deeply offended. Thus he proved that Diderot was +right. Indeed, in society, or amid social life, every +evil instinct is compelled to restrain itself, to assume +so many masks, and to press itself so often into the +Procrustean bed of virtue, that we are quite justified +in speaking of the martyrdom of the evil man. In +solitude, however, all this disappears. The evil man +is still more evil in solitude—and consequently for +him whose eye sees only a drama everywhere he is +also more beautiful. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='349'/><anchor id='Pg349'/> + +<div> +<head>500.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Against the Grain.</hi>—A thinker may for years +at a time force himself to think against the grain: +that is, not to pursue the thoughts that spring up +within him, but, instead, those which he is compelled +to follow by the exigencies of his office, an established +division of time, or any arbitrary duty which +he may find it necessary to fulfil. In the long run, +however, he will fall ill; for this apparently moral +self-command will destroy his nervous system as +thoroughly and completely as regular debauchery. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>501.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mortal Souls.</hi>—Where knowledge is concerned +perhaps the most useful conquest that has +ever been made is the abandonment of the belief in +the immortality of the soul. Humanity is henceforth +at liberty to wait: men need no longer be in +a hurry to swallow badly-tested ideas as they had to +do in former times. For in those times the salvation +of this poor <q>immortal soul</q> depended upon the +extent of the knowledge which could be acquired +in the course of a short existence: decisions had to +be reached from one day to another, and <q>knowledge</q> +was a matter of dreadful importance! +</p> + +<p> +Now we have acquired good courage for errors, +experiments, and the provisional acceptance of ideas—all +this is not so very important!—and for this +very reason individuals and whole races may now +face tasks so vast in extent that in former years they +would have looked like madness, and defiance of +<pb n='350'/><anchor id='Pg350'/> +heaven and hell. Now we have the right to experiment +upon ourselves! Yes, men have the right +to do so! the greatest sacrifices have not yet been +offered up to knowledge—nay, in earlier periods it +would have been sacrilege, and a sacrifice of our +eternal salvation, even to surmise such ideas as now +precede our actions. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>502.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>One Word for three different Conditions.</hi>—When +in a state of passion one man will +be forced to let loose the savage, dreadful, unbearable +animal. Another when under the influence of +passion will raise himself to a high, noble, and lofty +demeanour, in comparison with which his usual self +appears petty. A third, whose whole person is +permeated with nobility of feeling, has also the most +noble storm and stress: and in this state he represents +Nature in her state of savageness and beauty, +and stands only one degree lower than Nature in her +periods of greatness and serenity, which he usually +represents. It is while in this state of passion, +however, that men understand him better, and +venerate him more highly at these moments—for +then he is one step nearer and more akin to them. +They feel at once delighted and horrified at such a +sight and call it—divine. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>503.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Friendship.</hi>—The objection to a philosophic +life that it renders us useless to our friends would +never have arisen in a modern mind: it belongs +rather to classical antiquity. Antiquity knew the +<pb n='351'/><anchor id='Pg351'/> +stronger bonds of friendship, meditated upon it, +and almost took it to the grave with it. This is the +advantage it has over us: we, on the other hand, +can point to our idealisation of sexual love. All +the great excellencies of ancient humanity owed +their stability to the fact that man was standing +side by side with man, and that no woman was +allowed to put forward the claim of being the +nearest and highest, nay even sole object of his love, +as the feeling of passion would teach. Perhaps +our trees do not grow so high now owing to the +ivy and the vines that cling round them. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>504.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Reconciliation.</hi>—Should it then be the task +of philosophy to reconcile what the child has learnt +with what the man has come to recognise? Should +philosophy be the task of young men because they +stand midway between child and man and possess +intermediate necessities? It would almost appear +to be so if you consider at what ages of their life +philosophers are now in the habit of setting forth +their conceptions: at a time when it is too late +for faith and too early for knowledge. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>505.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Practical People.</hi>—We thinkers have the +right of deciding good taste in all things, and if +necessary of decreeing it. The practical people +finally receive it from us: their dependence upon +us is incredibly great, and is one of the most +<pb n='352'/><anchor id='Pg352'/> +ridiculous spectacles in the world, little though they +themselves know it and however proudly they like +to carp at us unpractical people. Nay, they would +even go so far as to belittle their practical life if +we should show a tendency to despise it—whereto +at times we might be urged on by a slightly vindictive +feeling. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>506.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Necessary Desiccation of Everything +Good.</hi>—What! must we conceive of a work +exactly in the spirit of the age that has produced +it? but we experience greater delight and surprise, +and get more information out of it when we do +not conceive it in this spirit! Have you not remarked +that every new and good work, so long +as it is exposed to the damp air of its own age is +least valuable—just because it still has about it +all the odour of the market, of opposition, of +modern ideas, and of all that is transient from +day to day? Later on, however, it dries up, its +<q>actuality</q> dies away: and then only does it +obtain its deep lustre and its perfume—and also, +if it is destined for it, the calm eye of eternity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>507.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Against the Tyranny of Truth.</hi>—Even if +we were mad enough to consider all our opinions +as truth, we should nevertheless not wish them +alone to exist. I cannot see why we should ask +for an autocracy and omnipotence of truth: it is +sufficient for me to know that it is a great power. +<pb n='353'/><anchor id='Pg353'/> +Truth, however, must meet with opposition and be +able to fight, and we must be able to rest from it +at times in falsehood—otherwise truth will grow +tiresome, powerless, and insipid, and will render us +equally so. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>508.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Not to take a Thing Pathetically.</hi>—What +we do to benefit ourselves should not bring us in +any moral praise, either from others or from ourselves, +and the same remark applies to those things +which we do to please ourselves. It is looked +upon as <foreign rend='italic'>bon ton</foreign> among superior men to refrain +from taking things pathetically in such cases, and +to refrain from all pathetic feelings: the man who +has accustomed himself to this has retrieved his +<foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>naïveté</foreign>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>509.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Third Eye.</hi>—What! You are still in +need of the theatre! are you still so young? Be +wise, and seek tragedy and comedy where they +are better acted, and where the incidents are more +interesting, and the actors more eager. It is +indeed by no means easy to be merely a spectator +in these cases—but learn! and then, amid all difficult +or painful situations, you will have a little gate leading +to joy and refuge, even when your passions attack +you. Open your stage eye, that big third eye of +yours, which looks out into the world through the +other two. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>510.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Escaping from One's Virtues.</hi>—Of what +account is a thinker who does not know how to +<pb n='354'/><anchor id='Pg354'/> +escape from his own virtues occasionally! Surely +a thinker should be more than <q>a moral being</q>! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>511.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Temptress.</hi>—Honesty is the great temptress +of all fanatics.<note place='foot'>Hence the violence of all fanatics, who do not wish to +shout down the outer world so much as to shout down their +own inner enemy, viz. truth.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> What seemed to tempt Luther +in the guise of the devil or a beautiful woman, +and from which he defended himself in that uncouth +way of his, was probably nothing but +honesty, and perhaps in a few rarer cases even +truth. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>512.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Bold towards Things.</hi>—The man who, in +accordance with his character, is considerate and +timid towards persons, but is courageous and bold +towards things, is afraid of new and closer acquaintances, +and limits his old ones in order that he may +thus make his incognito and his inconsiderateness +coincide with truth. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>513.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Limits and Beauty.</hi>—Are you looking for +men with a fine culture? Then you will have to +be satisfied with restricted views and sights, exactly +as when you are looking for fine countries.—There +are, of course, such panoramic men: they are like +panoramic regions, instructive and marvellous: but +not beautiful. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='355'/><anchor id='Pg355'/> + +<div> +<head>514.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To the Stronger.</hi>—Ye stronger and arrogant +intellects, we ask you for only one thing: throw no +further burdens upon our shoulders, but take some +of our burdens upon your own, since ye are stronger! +but ye delight in doing the exact contrary: for ye +wish to soar, so that we must carry your burden +in addition to our own—we must crawl! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>515.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Increase of Beauty.</hi>—Why has beauty +increased by the progress of civilisation? because +the three occasions for ugliness appear ever more +rarely among civilised men: first, the wildest outbursts +of ecstasy; secondly, extreme bodily exertion, +and, thirdly, the necessity of inducing fear by +one's very sight and presence—a matter which is +so frequent and of so great importance in the lower +and more dangerous stages of culture that it even +lays down the proper gestures and ceremonials and +makes ugliness a duty. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>516.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Not to Imbue our Neighbours with Our +own Demon.</hi>—Let us in our age continue to hold +the belief that benevolence and beneficence are the +characteristics of a good man; but let us not fail +to add <q>provided that in the first place he exhibits +his benevolence and beneficence towards himself.</q> +For if he acts otherwise—that is to say, if he shuns, +hates, or injures himself—he is certainly not a good +<pb n='356'/><anchor id='Pg356'/> +man. He then merely saves himself through +others: and let these others take care that they +do not come to grief through him, however well +disposed he may appear to be to them!—but to +shun and hate one's own ego, and to live in and +for others, this has up to the present, with as much +thoughtlessness as conviction, been looked upon as +<q>unselfish,</q> and consequently as <q>good.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>517.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tempting into Love.</hi>—We ought to fear a +man who hates himself; for we are liable to become +the victims of his anger and revenge. Let us +therefore try to tempt him into self-love. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>518.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Resignation.</hi>—What is resignation? It is the +most comfortable position of a patient, who, after +having suffered a long time from tormenting pains +in order to find it, at last became tired—and then +found it. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>519.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Deception.</hi>—When you wish to act you must +close the door upon doubt, said a man of action.—And +are you not afraid of being deceived in doing +so? replied the man of a contemplative mind. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>520.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Eternal Obsequies.</hi>—Both within and beyond +the confines of history we might imagine that we +<pb n='357'/><anchor id='Pg357'/> +were listening to a continual funeral oration: we +have buried, and are still burying, all that we have +loved best, our thoughts, and our hopes, receiving +in exchange pride, <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>gloria mundi</foreign>—that is, the pomp +of the graveside speech. It is thus that everything +is made good! Even at the present time the +funeral orator remains the greatest public benefactor. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>521.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Exceptional Vanity.</hi>—Yonder man possesses +one great quality which serves as a consolation for +him: his look passes with contempt over the +remainder of his being, and almost his entire +character is included in this. But he recovers +from himself when, as it were, he approaches his +sanctuary; already the road leading to it appears +to him to be an ascent on broad soft steps—and +yet, ye cruel ones, ye call him vain on this account! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>522.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Wisdom without Ears.</hi>—To hear every day +what is said about us, or even to endeavour to +discover what people think of us, will in the end +kill even the strongest man. Our neighbours +permit us to live only that they may exercise a daily +claim upon us! They certainly would not tolerate +us if we wished to claim rights over them, and +still less if we wished to be right! In short, let +us offer up a sacrifice to the general peace, let us +not listen when they speak of us, when they praise +us, blame us, wish for us, or hope for us—nay, let +us not even think of it. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='358'/><anchor id='Pg358'/> + +<div> +<head>523.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>A Question of Penetration.</hi>—When we are +confronted with any manifestation which some one +has permitted us to see, we may ask: what is it +meant to conceal? What is it meant to draw our +attention from? What prejudices does it seek to +raise? and again, how far does the subtlety of the +dissimulation go? and in what respect is the man +mistaken? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>524.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Jealousy of the Lonely Ones.</hi>—This +is the difference between sociable and solitary +natures, provided that both possess an intellect: +the former are satisfied, or nearly satisfied, with +almost anything whatever; from the moment that +their minds have discovered a communicable and +happy version of it they will be reconciled even +with the devil himself! But the lonely souls +have their silent rapture, and their speechless +agony about a thing: they hate the ingenious +and brilliant display of their inmost problems as +much as they dislike to see the women they +love too loudly dressed—they watch her mournfully +in such a case, as if they were just beginning +to suspect that she was desirous of pleasing +others. This is the jealousy which all lonely +thinkers and passionate dreamers exhibit with regard +to the <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>esprit</foreign>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>525.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Effect of Praise.</hi>—Some people become +modest when highly praised, others insolent. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='359'/><anchor id='Pg359'/> + +<div> +<head>526.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Unwilling to be a Symbol.</hi>—I sympathise +with princes: they are not at liberty to discard +their high rank even for a short time, and thus +they come to know people only from the very +uncomfortable position of constant dissimulation—their +continual compulsion to represent something +actually ends by making solemn ciphers of them.—Such +is the fate of all those who deem it their +duty to be symbols. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>527.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Hidden Men.</hi>—Have you never come +across those people who check and restrain even +their enraptured hearts, and who would rather +become mute than lose the modesty of moderation? +and have you never met those embarrassing, +and yet so often good-natured people who do not +wish to be recognised, and who time and again +efface the tracks they have made in the sand? and +who even deceive others as well as themselves in +order to remain obscure and hidden? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>528.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Unusual Forbearance.</hi>—It is often no small +indication of kindness to be unwilling to criticise +some one, and even to refuse to think of him. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>529.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How Men and Nations gain Lustre.</hi>—How +many really individual actions are left undone +<pb n='360'/><anchor id='Pg360'/> +merely because before performing them we perceive +or suspect that they will be misunderstood!—those +actions, for example, which have some intrinsic +value, both in good and evil. The more highly an +age or a nation values its individuals, therefore, and +the more right and ascendancy we accord them, +the more will actions of this kind venture to make +themselves known,—and thus in the long run a +lustre of honesty, of genuineness in good and evil, +will spread over entire ages and nations, so that +they—the Greeks, for example—like certain stars, +will continue to shed light for thousands of years +after their sinking. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>530.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Digressions of the Thinker.</hi>—The course +of thought in certain men is strict and inflexibly +bold. At times it is even cruel towards such men, +although considered individually they may be +gentle and pliable. With well-meaning hesitation +they will turn the matter ten times over in their +heads, but will at length continue their strict course. +They are like streams that wind their way past +solitary hermitages: there are places in their course +where the stream plays hide and seek with itself, +and indulges in short idylls with islets, trees, +grottos, and cascades—and then it rushes ahead +once more, passes by the rocks, and forces its way +through the hardest stones. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>531.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Different Feelings Towards Art.</hi>—From +the time when we begin to live as a hermit, consuming +<pb n='361'/><anchor id='Pg361'/> +and consumed, our only company being +deep and prolific thoughts, we expect from art +either nothing more, or else something quite +different from what we formerly expected—in a +word, we change our taste. For in former times +we wished to penetrate for a moment by means of +art into the element in which we are now living +permanently: at that time we dreamt ourselves +into the rapture of a possession which we now +actually possess. Indeed, flinging away from us +for the time being what we now have, and imagining +ourselves to be poor, or to be a child, a beggar, +or a fool, may now at times fill us with delight. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>532.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'><q>Love Equalises.</q></hi>—Love wishes to spare the +other to whom it devotes itself any feeling of +strangeness: as a consequence it is permeated with +disguise and simulation; it keeps on deceiving continuously, +and feigns an equality which in reality +does not exist. And all this is done so instinctively +that women who love deny this simulation and +constant tender trickery, and have even the +audacity to assert that love equalises (in other +words that it performs a miracle)! +</p> + +<p> +This phenomenon is a simple matter if one of +the two permits himself or herself to be loved, and +does not deem it necessary to feign, but leaves +this to the other. No drama, however, could offer +a more intricate and confused instance than when +both persons are passionately in love with one +another; for in this case both are anxious to +<pb n='362'/><anchor id='Pg362'/> +surrender and to endeavour to conform to the +other, and finally they are both at a loss to know +what to imitate and what to feign. The beautiful +madness of this spectacle is too good for this world, +and too subtle for human eyes. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>533.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>We Beginners.</hi>—How many things does an +actor see and divine when he watches another on +the stage! He notices at once when a muscle fails +in some gesture; he can distinguish those little +artificial tricks which are so calmly practised +separately before the mirror, and are not in conformity +with the whole; he feels when the actor is +surprised on the stage by his own invention, and +when he spoils it amid this surprise.—How differently, +again, does a painter look at some one who +happens to be moving before him! He will see +a great deal that does not actually exist in order +to complete the actual appearance of the person, +and to give it its full effect. In his mind he +attempts several different illuminations of the same +object, and divides the whole by an additional +contrast.—Oh, that we now possessed the eyes of +such an actor and such a painter for the province +of the human soul! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>534.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Small Doses.</hi>—If we wish a change to be as +deep and radical as possible, we must apply the +remedy in minute doses, but unremittingly for long +periods. What great action can be performed all +<pb n='363'/><anchor id='Pg363'/> +at once? Let us therefore be careful not to +exchange violently and precipitately the moral +conditions with which we are familiar for a new +valuation of things,—nay, we may even wish to +continue living in the old way for a long time to +come, until probably at some very remote period +we become aware of the fact that the new valuation +has made itself the predominating power +within us, and that its minute doses to which we +must henceforth become accustomed have set up +a new nature within us.—We now also begin to +understand that the last attempt at a great change +of valuations—that which concerned itself with +political affairs (the <q>great revolution</q>)—was +nothing more than a pathetic and sanguinary piece +of quackery which, by means of sudden crises, was +able to inspire a credulous Europe with the hope +of a sudden recovery, and has therefore made all +political invalids impatient and dangerous up to +this very moment. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>535.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Truth Requires Power.</hi>—Truth in itself is +no power at all, in spite of all that flattering +rationalists are in the habit of saying to the +contrary. Truth must either attract power to +its side, or else side with power, for otherwise it +will perish again and again. This has already +been sufficiently demonstrated, and more than +sufficiently! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>536.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Thumbscrew.</hi>—It is disgusting to observe +with what cruelty every one charges his two or +<pb n='364'/><anchor id='Pg364'/> +three private virtues to the account of others who +may perhaps not possess them, and whom he +torments and worries with them. Let us therefore +deal humanely with the <q>sense of honesty,</q> although +we may possess in it a thumbscrew with which we +can worry to death all these presumptuous egoists +who even yet wish to impose their own beliefs upon +the whole world—we have tried this thumbscrew +on ourselves! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>537.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mastery.</hi>—We have reached mastery when we +neither mistake nor hesitate in the achievement. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>538.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Moral Insanity of Genius.</hi>—In a +certain category of great intellects we may observe +a painful and partly horrible spectacle: in their +most productive moments their flights aloft and +into the far distance appear to be out of harmony +with their general constitution and to exceed their +power in one way or another, so that each time +there remains a deficiency, and also in the long +run a defectiveness in the entire machinery, which +latter is manifested among those highly intellectual +natures by various kinds of moral and intellectual +symptoms more regularly than by conditions of +bodily distress. +</p> + +<p> +Thus those incomprehensible characteristics of +their nature—all their timidity, vanity, hatefulness, +envy, their narrow and narrowing disposition—and +that too personal and awkward element in natures +like those of Rousseau and Schopenhauer, may very +<pb n='365'/><anchor id='Pg365'/> +well be the consequences of a periodical attack of +heart disease; and this in its turn may be the +result of a nervous complaint, and this latter the +consequence of ——<note place='foot'>This omission is in the original.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> +</p> + +<p> +So long as genius dwells within us we are full +of audacity, yea, almost mad, and heedless of +health, life, and honour; we fly through the day +as free and swift as an eagle, and in the darkness +we feel as confident as an owl.—But let genius +once leave us and we are instantly overcome by a +feeling of the most profound despondency: we can +no longer understand ourselves; we suffer from +everything that we experience and do not experience; +we feel as if we were in the midst of +shelterless rocks with the tempest raging round us, +and we are at the same time like pitiful childish +souls, afraid of a rustle or a shadow.—Three-fourths +of all the evil committed in the world is +due to timidity; and this is above all a physiological +process. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>539.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Do you know what you Want?</hi>—Have you +never been troubled by the fear that you might +not be at all fitted for recognising what is true? +by the fear that your senses might be too dull, and +even your delicacy of sight far too blunt? If you +could only perceive, even once, to what extent your +volition dominates your sight! How, for example, +you wished yesterday to see more than some one +else, while to-day you wish to see it differently! +and how from the start you were anxious to see +<pb n='366'/><anchor id='Pg366'/> +something which would be in conformity with or +in opposition to anything that people thought they +had observed up to the present. Oh, those shameful +cravings! How often you keep your eyes open +for what is efficacious, for what is soothing, just +because you happen to be tired at the moment! +Always full of secret predeterminations of what +truth should be like, so that you—you, forsooth!—might +accept it! or do you think that to-day, +because you are as frozen and dry as a bright +winter morning, and because nothing is weighing +on your mind, you have better eyesight! Are not +ardour and enthusiasm necessary to do justice to +the creations of thought?—and this indeed is what +is called sight! as if you could treat matters of +thought any differently from the manner in which +you treat men. In all relations with thought there +is the same morality, the same honesty of purpose, +the same <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>arrière-pensée</foreign>, the same slackness, the +same faint-heartedness—your whole lovable and +hateful self! Your physical exhaustion will lend +the things pale colours whilst your feverishness will +turn them into monsters! Does not your morning +show the things in a different light from the +evening? Are you not afraid of finding in the +cave of all knowledge your own phantom, the veil +in which truth is wrapped up and hidden from +your sight? Is it not a dreadful comedy in which +you so thoughtlessly wish to take part? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>540.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Learning.</hi>—Michelangelo considered Raphael's +genius as having been acquired by study, and upon +<pb n='367'/><anchor id='Pg367'/> +his own as a natural gift: learning as opposed to +talent; though this is mere pedantry, with all due +respect to the great pedant himself. For what is +talent but a name for an older piece of learning, experience, +exercise, appropriation, and incorporation, +perhaps as far back as the times of our ancestors, +or even earlier! And again: he who learns forms +his own talents, only learning is not such an easy +matter and depends not only upon our willingness, +but also upon our being able to learn at all. +</p> + +<p> +Jealousy often prevents this in an artist, or that +pride which, when it experiences any strange feeling, +at once assumes an attitude of defence instead +of an attitude of scholarly receptiveness. Raphael, +like Goethe, lacked this pride, on which account +they were great learners, and not merely the exploiters +of those quarries which had been formed +by the manifold genealogy of their forefathers. +Raphael vanishes before our eyes as a learner +in the midst of that assimilation of what his +great rival called <emph>his</emph> <q>nature</q>: this noblest of +all thieves daily carried off a portion of it; but +before he had appropriated all the genius of +Michelangelo he died—and the final series of his +works, because it is the beginning of a new plan of +study, is less perfect and good, for the simple reason +that the great student was interrupted by death in +the midst of his most difficult task, and took away +with him that justifying and final goal which he had +in view. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>541.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How we should turn to Stone.</hi>—By +slowly, very, very slowly, becoming hard like a +<pb n='368'/><anchor id='Pg368'/> +precious stone, and at last lie still, a joy to all +eternity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>542.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Philosopher and Old Age.</hi>—It is not +wise to permit evening to act as a judge of the +day; for only too often in this case weariness becomes +the judge of success and good will. We +should also take the greatest precautions in regard +to everything connected with old age and its judgment +upon life, more especially since old age, like +the evening, is fond of assuming a new and charming +morality, and knows well enough how to +humiliate the day by the glow of the evening skies, +twilight and a peaceful and wistful silence. The +reverence which we feel for an old man, especially +if he is an old thinker and sage, easily blinds us to +the deterioration of his intellect, and it is always +necessary to bring to light the hidden symptoms of +such a deterioration and lassitude, that is to say, to +uncover the physiological phenomenon which is still +concealed behind the old man's moral judgments +and prejudices, in case we should be deceived by +our veneration for him, and do something to the +disadvantage of knowledge. For it is not seldom +that the illusion of a great moral renovation and +regeneration takes possession of the old man. +Basing his views upon this, he then proceeds to +express his opinions on the work and development +of his life as if he had only then for the first time +become clearsighted—and nevertheless it is not +wisdom, but fatigue, which prompts his present state +of well-being and his positive judgments. +</p> + +<pb n='369'/><anchor id='Pg369'/> + +<p> +The most dangerous indication of this weariness +is above all the belief in genius, which as a rule only +arises in great and semi-great men of intellect at +this period of their lives: the belief in an exceptional +position, and exceptional rights. The thinker +who thus believes himself to be inspired by genius +henceforth deems it permissible for him to take +things more easily, and takes advantage of his +position as a genius to decree rather than to prove. +It is probable, however, that the need felt by the +weary intellect for alleviation is the main source of +this belief—it precedes it in time, though appearances +may indicate the contrary. +</p> + +<p> +At this time too, as the result of the love which +all weary and old people feel for enjoyment, such +men as those I am speaking of wish to enjoy the +results of their thinking instead of again testing +them and scattering the seeds abroad once more. +This leads them to make their thoughts palatable +and enjoyable, and to take away their dryness, +coldness, and want of flavour; and thus it comes +about that the old thinker apparently raises himself +above his life's work, while in reality he spoils +it by infusing into it a certain amount of fantasy, +sweetness, flavour, poetic mists, and mystic lights. +This is how Plato ended, as did also that great +and honest Frenchman, Auguste Comte, who, as a +conqueror of the exact sciences, cannot be matched +either among the Germans or the Englishmen of +this century. +</p> + +<p> +There is a third symptom of fatigue: that +ambition which actuated the great thinker when +he was young, and which could not then find anything +<pb n='370'/><anchor id='Pg370'/> +to satisfy it, has also grown old, and, like +one that has no more time to lose, it begins to +snatch at the coarser and more immediate means +of its gratification, means which are peculiar to +active, dominating, violent, and conquering dispositions. +From this time onwards the thinker +wishes to found institutions which shall bear his +name, instead of erecting mere brain-structures. +What are now to him the ethereal victories and +honours to be met with in the realm of proofs and +refutations, or the perpetuation of his fame in books, +or the thrill of exultation in the soul of the reader? +But the institution, on the other hand, is a temple, +as he well knows—a temple of stone, a durable +edifice, which will keep its god alive with more certainty +than the sacrifices of rare and tender souls.<note place='foot'>This, of course, refers to Richard Wagner, as does also +the following paragraph.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note> +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps, too, at this period of his life the old +thinker will for the first time meet with that love +which is fitted for a god rather than for a human +being, and his whole nature becomes softened and +sweetened in the rays of such a sun, like fruit in +autumn. Yes, he grows more divine and beautiful, +this great old man,—and nevertheless it is old age +and weariness which permit him to ripen in this +way, to grow more silent, and to repose in the +luminous adulation of a woman. Now it is all up +with his former desire—a desire which was superior +even to his own ego—for real disciples, followers +who would carry on his thought, that is, true +opponents. This desire arose from his hitherto undiminished +energy, the conscious pride he felt in +<pb n='371'/><anchor id='Pg371'/> +being able at any time to become an opponent +himself,—nay, even the deadly enemy of his own +doctrine,—but now his desire is for resolute +partisans, unwavering comrades, auxiliary forces, +heralds, a pompous train of followers. He is now +no longer able to bear that dreadful isolation in +which every intellect that advances beyond the +others is compelled to live. From this time forward +he surrounds himself with objects of veneration, +companionship, tenderness, and love; but he also +wishes to enjoy the privileges of all religious people, +and to worship what he venerates most highly +in his little community—he will even go as far as +to invent a religion for the purpose of having a +community. +</p> + +<p> +Thus lives the wise old man, and in living thus +he falls almost imperceptibly into such a deplorable +proximity to priestly and poetic extravagances that +it is difficult to recollect all his wise and severe +period of youth, the former rigid morality of his +mind, and his truly virile dread of fancies and misplaced +enthusiasm. When he was formerly in the +habit of comparing himself with the older thinkers, +he did so merely that he might measure his weakness +against their strength, and that he might +become colder and more audacious towards himself; +but now he only makes this comparison to intoxicate +himself with his own delusions. Formerly he +looked forward with confidence to future thinkers, +and he even took a delight in imagining himself to +be cast into the shade by their brighter light. Now, +however, he is mortified to think that he cannot be +the last: he endeavours to discover some way of +<pb n='372'/><anchor id='Pg372'/> +imposing upon mankind, together with the inheritance +which he is leaving to them, a restriction of +sovereign thinking. He fears and reviles the pride +and the love of freedom of individual minds: after +him no one must allow his intellect to govern with +absolute unrestriction: he himself wishes to remain +for ever the bulwark on which the waves of ideas +may break—these are his secret wishes, and perhaps, +indeed, they are not always secret. +</p> + +<p> +The hard fact upon which such wishes are based, +however, is that he himself has come to a halt before +his teaching, and has set up his boundary stone, +his <q>thus far and no farther.</q> In canonising himself +he has drawn up his own death warrant: from +now on his mind cannot develop further. His race +is run; the hour-hand stops. Whenever a great +thinker tries to make himself a lasting institution +for posterity, we may readily suppose that he has +passed the climax of his powers, and is very tired, +very near the setting of his sun. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>543.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>We must not make Passion an Argument +for Truth.</hi>—Oh, you kind-hearted and even +noble enthusiasts, I know you! You wish to seem +right in our eyes as well as in your own, but +especially in your own!—and an irritable and subtle +evil conscience so often spurs you on against your +very enthusiasm! How ingenious you then become +in deceiving your conscience, and lulling it to sleep! +How you hate honest, simple, and clean souls; how +you avoid their innocent glances! That better +knowledge whose representatives they are, and +<pb n='373'/><anchor id='Pg373'/> +whose voice you hear only too distinctly within +yourselves when it questions your belief,—how you +try to cast suspicion upon it as a bad habit, as a +disease of the age, as the neglect and infection of +your own intellectual health! It drives you on to +hate even criticism, science, reason! You must +falsify history to make it testify in your favour; +you must deny virtues in case they should obscure +those of your own idols and ideals. +</p> + +<p> +Coloured images where arguments are needed! +Ardour and power of expression! Silver mists! +Ambrosian nights! well do you know how to enlighten +and to darken—to darken by means of +light! and indeed when your passion can no longer +be kept within bounds the moment comes when +you say to yourselves, <q>Now I have won for myself +a good conscience, now I am exalted, courageous, +self-denying, magnanimous; now I am honest!</q> +How you long for these moments when your passion +will confer upon you full and absolute rights, and +also, as it were, innocence. How happy you are +when engaged in battle and inspired with ecstasy +or courage, when you are elated beyond yourself, +when gnawing doubt has left you, and when you +can even decree: <q>Any man who is not in ecstasy +as we are cannot by any chance know what or +where truth is.</q> How you long to meet with those +who share your belief in this state—which is a +state of intellectual depravity—and to set your own +fire alight with their flames! Oh, for your martyrdom, +your victory of the sanctified lie! Must you +really inflict so much pain upon yourselves?—<emph>Must</emph> +you? +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='374'/><anchor id='Pg374'/> + +<div> +<head>544.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>How Philosophy is now Practised.</hi>—I can +see quite well that our philosophising youths, +women, and artists require from philosophy exactly +the opposite of what the Greeks derived from it. +What does he who does not hear the continual +exultation that resounds through every speech and +counter-argument in a Platonic dialogue, this exultation +over the new invention of rational thinking, +know about Plato or about ancient philosophy? +At that time souls were filled with enthusiasm when +they gave themselves up to the severe and sober +sport of ideas, generalisations, refutations,—that +enthusiasm which perhaps those old, great, severe, +and prudent contrapuntists in music have also +known. At that time the Greek palate still possessed +that older and formerly omnipotent taste: +and by the side of this taste their new taste appeared +to be enveloped in so much charm that the divine +art of dialectic was sung by hesitating voices as if +its followers were intoxicated with the frenzy of +love. That old form of thinking, however, was +thought within the bounds of morality, and for it +nothing existed but fixed judgments and established +facts, and it had no reasons but those of +authority. Thinking, therefore, was simply a matter +of repetition, and all the enjoyment of speech and +dialogue could only lie in their form. +</p> + +<p> +Wherever the substance of a thing is looked upon +as eternal and universally approved, there is only +one great charm, the charm of variable forms, that +is, of fashion. Even in the poets ever since the +<pb n='375'/><anchor id='Pg375'/> +time of Homer, and later on in the case of the sculptors, +the Greeks did not enjoy originality, but its +contrary. It was Socrates who discovered another +charm, that of cause and effect, of reason and +sequence, and we moderns have become so used to +it, and have been brought up to the necessity of +logic that we look upon it as the normal taste, and +as such it cannot but be repugnant to ardent and +presumptuous people. Such people are pleased +by whatever stands out boldly from the normal: +their more subtle ambition leads them to believe +only too readily that they are exceptional souls, +not dialectic and rational beings, but, let us say, +<q>intuitive</q> beings gifted with an <q>inner sense,</q> or +with a certain <q>intellectual perception.</q> Above all, +however, they wish to be <q>artistic natures</q> with a +genius in their heads, and a demon in their bodies, +and consequently with special rights in this world +and in the world to come—especially the divine +privilege of being incomprehensible. +</p> + +<p> +And people like these are <q>going in for</q> philosophy +nowadays! I fear they will discover one +day that they have made a mistake—what they +are looking for is religion! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>545.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>But we do not Believe you.</hi>—You would +fain pass for psychologists, but we shall not allow +it! Are we not to notice that you pretend to be +more experienced, profound, passionate, and perfect +than you actually are?—just as we notice in yonder +painter that there is a trifling presumptuousness in +<pb n='376'/><anchor id='Pg376'/> +his manner of wielding the brush, and in yonder +musician that he brings forward his theme with the +desire to make it appear superior to what it really +is. Have you experienced history within yourselves, +commotions, earthquakes, long and profound +sadness, and sudden flashes of happiness? +Have you acted foolishly with great and little fools? +Have you really undergone the delusions and woe +of the good people? and also the woe and the +peculiar happiness of the most evil? Then you +may speak to me of morality, but not otherwise! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>546.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Slave and Idealist.</hi>—The followers of Epictetus +would doubtless not be to the taste of those +who are now striving after the ideal. The constant +tension of his being, the indefatigable inward glance, +the prudent and reserved incommunicativeness of +his eye whenever it happens to gaze upon the outer +world, and above all, his silence or laconic speech: +all these are characteristics of the strictest fortitude,—and +what would our idealists, who above all else +are desirous of expansion, care for this? But in +spite of all this the Stoic is not fanatical. He +detests the display and boasting of our idealists: +his pride, however great it may be, is not eager +to disturb others. It permits of a certain gentle +approach, and has no desire to spoil anybody's good +humour—nay, it can even smile. A great deal of +ancient humanity is to be seen exemplified in this +ideal. The most excellent feature about it, however, +is that the thinker is completely free from the +<pb n='377'/><anchor id='Pg377'/> +fear of God, strictly believes in reason, and is no +preacher of penitence. +</p> + +<p> +Epictetus was a slave: his ideal man is without +any particular rank, and may exist in any grade of +society, but above all he is to be sought in the +deepest and lowest social classes, as the silent and +self-sufficient man in the midst of a general state +of servitude, a man who defends himself alone +against the outer world, and is constantly living in +a state of the highest fortitude. He is distinguished +from the Christian especially, because the latter lives +in hope in the promise of <q>unspeakable glory,</q> +permits presents to be made to him, and expects +and accepts the best things from divine love and +grace, and not from himself. Epictetus, on the +other hand, neither hopes nor allows his best +treasure to be given him—he possesses it already, +holds it bravely in his hand, and defies the world +to take it away from him. Christianity was devised +for another class of ancient slaves, for those who +had a weak will and weak reason—that is to say, +for the majority of slaves. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>547.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Tyrants of the Intellect.</hi>—The progress +of science is at the present time no longer +hindered by the purely accidental fact that man +attains to about seventy years, which was the case +far too long. In former times people wished to +master the entire extent of knowledge within this +period, and all the methods of knowledge were +valued according to this general desire. Minor +<pb n='378'/><anchor id='Pg378'/> +questions and individual experiments were looked +upon as unworthy of notice: people wanted to take +the shortest path under the impression that, since +everything in this world seemed to be arranged +with a view to man's needs, even the acquirement +of knowledge was regulated in view of the limits +of human life. +</p> + +<p> +To solve everything at a single stroke, with one +word—this was the secret desire; and the task was +represented in the symbol of the Gordian knot or +the egg of Columbus. No one doubted that it was +possible to reach the goal of knowledge after the +manner of Alexander or Columbus, and to settle +all questions with one answer. <q>There is a mystery +to be solved,</q> seemed to be the aim of life in the +eyes of the philosopher: it was necessary in the first +place to find out what this enigma was, and to condense +the problem of the world into the simplest +enigmatical formula possible. The boundless ambition +and delight of being the <q>unraveller of the +world</q> charmed the dreams of many a thinker: +nothing seemed to him worth troubling about in +this world but the means of bringing everything to +a satisfactory conclusion. Philosophy thus became +a kind of supreme struggle for the tyrannical sway +over the intellect, and no one doubted that such a +tyrannical domination was reserved for some very +happy, subtle, ingenious, bold, and powerful person—a +single individual!—and many (the last was +Schopenhauer) fancied themselves to be this privileged +person. +</p> + +<p> +From this it follows that, on the whole, science +has up to the present remained in a rather backward +<pb n='379'/><anchor id='Pg379'/> +state owing to the moral narrow-mindedness +of its disciples, and that henceforth it will have to +be pursued from a higher and more generous motive. +<q>What do I matter?</q> is written over the door of +the thinker of the future. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>548.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Victory Over Power.</hi>—If we consider all that +has been venerated up to the present as <q>superhuman +intellect</q> or <q>genius,</q> we must come to the +sad conclusion that, considered as a whole, the intellectuality +of mankind must have been extremely +low and poor: so little mind has hitherto been +necessary in order to feel at once considerably +superior to all this! Alas for the cheap glory of +<q>genius</q>! How quickly has it been raised to the +throne, and its worship grown into a custom! We +still fall on our knees before power—according to +the old custom of slaves—and nevertheless, when +the degree of venerability comes to be determined, +only the degree of reason in the power will be the +deciding factor. We must find out, indeed, to how +great an extent power has been overcome by something +higher, which it now obeys as a tool and +instrument. +</p> + +<p> +As yet, however, there have been too few eyes +for such investigations: even in the majority of +cases the mere valuation of genius has almost been +looked upon as blasphemy. And thus perhaps +everything that is most beautiful still takes place in +the midst of darkness and vanishes in endless night +almost as soon as it has made its appearance,—I +<pb n='380'/><anchor id='Pg380'/> +refer to the spectacle of that power which a genius +does not lay out upon works, but upon himself as +a work, that is, his own self-control, the purifying +of his own imagination, the order and selection in +his inspirations and tasks. The great man ever +remains invisible in the greatest thing that claims +worship, like some distant star: his victory over +power remains without witnesses, and hence also +without songs and singers. The hierarchy of the +great men in all the past history of the human race +has not yet been determined. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>549.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Flight from One's Self.</hi>—Those sufferers +from intellectual spasms who are impatient towards +themselves and look upon themselves with a gloomy +eye—such as Byron or Alfred de Musset—and who, +in everything that they do, resemble runaway horses, +and from their own works derive only a transient +joy and an ardent passion which almost bursts their +veins, followed by sterility and disenchantment—how +are they able to bear up! They would fain +attain to something <q>beyond themselves.</q> If we +happen to be Christians, and are seized by such a +desire as this, we strive to reach God and to become +one with Him; if we are a Shakespeare we shall +be glad to perish in images of a passionate life; if +we are like Byron we long for actions, because these +detach us from ourselves to an even greater extent +than thoughts, feelings, and works. +</p> + +<p> +And should the desire for performing great deeds +really be at bottom nothing but a flight from our +own selves?—as Pascal would ask us. And indeed +<pb n='381'/><anchor id='Pg381'/> +this assertion might be proved by considering the +most noble representations of this desire for action: +in this respect let us remember, bringing the knowledge +of an alienist to our aid, that four of the +greatest men of all ages who were possessed of this +lust for action were epileptics—Alexander the +Great, Cæsar, Mohammed, and Napoleon; and +Byron likewise was subject to the same complaint. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>550.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Knowledge and Beauty.</hi>—If men, as they +are still in the habit of doing, reserve their veneration +and feelings of happiness for works of fancy +and imagination, we should not be surprised if they +feel chilled and displeased by the contrary of fancy +and imagination. The rapture which arises from +even the smallest, sure, and definite step in advance +into insight, and which our present state of science +yields to so many in such abundance—this rapture +is in the meantime not believed in by all those who +are in the habit of feeling enraptured only when +they leave reality altogether and plunge into the +depths of vague appearance—romanticism. These +people look upon reality as ugly, but they entirely +overlook the fact that the knowledge of even the +ugliest reality is beautiful, and that the man who +can discern much and often is in the end very far +from considering as ugly the main items of that +reality, the discovery of which has always inspired +him with the feeling of happiness. +</p> + +<p> +Is there anything <q>beautiful in itself</q>? The +happiness of those who can recognise augments the +beauty of the world, bathing everything that exists +<pb n='382'/><anchor id='Pg382'/> +in a sunnier light: discernment not only envelops +all things in its own beauty, but in the long run +permeates the things themselves with its beauty—may +ages to come bear witness to the truth of this +statement! In the meantime let us recall an old +experience: two men so thoroughly different in +every respect as Plato and Aristotle were agreed +in regard to what constituted superior happiness—not +merely their own and that of men in general, +but happiness in itself, even the happiness of the +gods. They found this happiness to lie in knowledge, +in the activity of a well practised and inventive +understanding (not in <q>intuition</q> like the +German theologians and semi-theologians; not in +visions, like the mystics; and not in work, like the +merely practical men). Similar opinions were expressed +by Descartes and Spinoza. What great +delight must all these men have felt in knowledge! +and how great was the danger that their honesty +might give way, and that they themselves might +become panegyrists of things! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>551.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Future Virtues.</hi>—How has it come about +that, the more intelligible the world has become, +the more all kinds of ceremonies have diminished? +Was fear so frequently the fundamental basis of +that awe which overcame us at the sight of anything +hitherto unknown and mysterious, and which +taught us to fall upon our knees before the unintelligible, +and to beg for mercy? And has the +world, perhaps, through the very fact that we have +<pb n='383'/><anchor id='Pg383'/> +grown less timid, lost some of the charms it +formerly had for us? Is it not possible that our +own dignity and stateliness, our formidable character, +has decreased together with our spirit of +dread? Perhaps we value the world and ourselves +less highly since we have begun to think +more boldly about it and ourselves? Perhaps there +will come a moment in the future when this courageous +spirit of thinking will have reached such a +point that it will feel itself soaring in supreme pride, +far above men and things—when the wise man, +being also the boldest, will see himself and even +more particularly existence, the lowest of all beneath +himself? +</p> + +<p> +This type of courage, which is not far removed +from excessive generosity, has been lacking in +humanity up to the present.—Oh, that our poets +might once again become what they once were: +seers, telling us something about what might +possibly happen! now that what is real and what +is past are being ever more and more taken from +them, and must continue to be taken from them—for +the time of innocent counterfeiting is at an +end! Let them try to enable us to anticipate +future virtues, or virtues that will never be found +on earth, although they may exist somewhere in +the world!—purple-glowing constellations and +whole Milky Ways of the beautiful! Where are +ye, ye astronomers of the ideal? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>552.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Ideal Selfishness.</hi>—Is there a more sacred +state than that of pregnancy? To perform every +<pb n='384'/><anchor id='Pg384'/> +one of our actions in the silent conviction that in +one way or another it will be to the benefit of that +which is being generated within us—that it must +augment its mysterious value, the very thought of +which fills us with rapture? At such a time we +refrain from many things without having to force +ourselves to do so: we suppress the angry word, +we grasp the hand forgivingly; our child must be +born from all that is best and gentlest. We shun +our own harshness and brusqueness in case it should +instil a drop of unhappiness into the cup of the +beloved unknown. Everything is veiled, ominous; +we know nothing about what is going on, but +simply wait and try to be prepared. During this +time, too, we experience a pure and purifying feeling +of profound irresponsibility, similar to that felt +by a spectator before a drawn curtain; <emph>it</emph> is growing, +<emph>it</emph> is coming to light; we have nothing to do +with determining its value, or the hour of its arrival. +We are thrown back altogether upon indirect, +beneficent and defensive influences. <q>Something +greater than we are is growing here</q>—such is our +most secret hope: we prepare everything with a +view to his birth and prosperity—not merely everything +that is useful, but also the noblest gifts of our +souls. +</p> + +<p> +We should, and can, live under the influence of +such a blessed inspiration! Whether what we are +looking forward to is a thought or a deed, our +relationship to every essential achievement is none +other than that of pregnancy, and all our vainglorious +boasting about <q>willing</q> and <q>creating</q> +should be cast to the winds! True and ideal +<pb n='385'/><anchor id='Pg385'/> +selfishness consists in always watching over and +restraining the soul, so that our productiveness may +come to a beautiful termination. Thus in this +indirect manner we must provide for and watch +over the good of all; and the frame of mind, the +mood in which we live, is a kind of soothing oil +which spreads far around us on the restless souls.—Still, +these pregnant ones are funny people! +let us therefore dare to be funny also, and not +reproach others if they must be the same. And +even when this phenomenon becomes dangerous +and evil we must not show less respect to that which +is generating within us or others than ordinary +worldly justice, which does not allow the judge or +the hangman to interfere with a pregnant woman. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>553.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Circuitous Routes.</hi>—Where does all this +philosophy mean to end with its circuitous routes? +Does it do more than transpose into reason, so to +speak, a continuous and strong impulse—a craving +for a mild sun, a bright and bracing atmosphere, +southern plants, sea breezes, short meals of meat, +eggs, and fruit, hot water to drink, quiet walks for +days at a time, little talking, rare and cautious +reading, living alone, pure, simple, and almost +soldier-like habits—a craving, in short, for all +things which are suited to my own personal taste? +a philosophy which is in the main the instinct for +a personal regimen—an instinct that longs for my +air, my height, my temperature, and my kind of +health, and takes the circuitous route of my head +to persuade me to it! +</p> + +<pb n='386'/><anchor id='Pg386'/> + +<p> +There are many other and certainly more lofty +philosophies, and not only such as are more gloomy +and pretentious than mine—and are they perhaps, +taking them as a whole, nothing but intellectual +circuitous routes of the same kind of personal impulses?—In +the meantime I look with a new eye +upon the mysterious and solitary flight of a butterfly +high on the rocky banks of the lake where so +many plants are growing: there it flies hither and +thither, heedless of the fact that its life will last +only one more day, and that the night will be too +cold for its winged fragility. For it, too, a philosophy +might be found, though it might not be +my own. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<anchor id='Sect_554'/> +<head>554.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Leading.</hi><note place='foot'>The play upon the words <foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Vorschritt</foreign> (leading) and +<foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Fortschritt</foreign> (progress) cannot be rendered in English.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tr.</hi></note>—When we praise progress we only +praise the movement and those who do not let us +remain on the same spot, and in the circumstances +this is certainly something, especially if we live +among Egyptians. In changeable Europe, however, +where movement is <q>understood,</q> to use their +own expression, <q>as a matter of course</q>—alas, if +<emph>we</emph> only understood something about it too!—I +praise leaders and forerunners: that is to say, those +who always leave themselves behind, and do not +care in the least whether any one is following them +or not. <q>Wherever I halt I find myself alone: +why should I halt! the desert is still so wide!</q>—such +is the sentiment of the true leader. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='387'/><anchor id='Pg387'/> + +<div> +<head>555.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Least Important Are Sufficient.</hi>—We +ought to avoid events when we know that even +the least important of them frequently enough leave +a strong impression upon us—and these we cannot +avoid.—The thinker must possess an approximate +canon of all the things he still wishes to experience. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>556.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Four Virtues.</hi>—Honest towards ourselves, +and to all and everything friendly to us; +brave in the face of our enemy; generous towards +the vanquished; polite at all times: such do the +four cardinal virtues wish us to be. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>557.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Marching Against an Enemy.</hi>—How pleasant +is the sound of even bad music and bad motives +when we are setting out to march against an +enemy! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>558.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Not Concealing One's Virtues.</hi>—I love +those men who are as transparent as water, and +who, to use Pope's expression, hide not from view +the turbid bottom of their stream. Even they, however, +possess a certain vanity, though of a rare and +more sublimated kind: some of them would wish +us to see nothing but the mud, and to take no +notice of the clearness of the water which enables +us to look right to the bottom. No less a man than +<pb n='388'/><anchor id='Pg388'/> +Gautama Buddha has imagined the vanity of these +few in the formula, <q>Let your sins appear before +men, and conceal your virtues.</q> But this would +exhibit a disagreeable spectacle to the world—it +would be a sin against good taste. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>559.</head> + +<p> +"<hi rend='smallcaps'>Nothing in Excess!</hi>"—How often is the +individual recommended to set up a goal which it +is beyond his power to reach, in order that he may +at least attain that which lies within the scope of +his abilities and most strenuous efforts! Is it really +so desirable, however, that he should do so? Do +not the best men who try to act according to this +doctrine, together with their best deeds, necessarily +assume a somewhat exaggerated and distorted appearance +on account of their excessive tension? and +in the future will not a grey mist of failure envelop +the world, owing to the fact that we may see everywhere +struggling athletes and tremendous gestures, +but nowhere a conqueror crowned with the laurel, +and rejoicing in his victory? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>560.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>What we are Free to do.</hi>—We can act as +the gardeners of our impulses, and—which few +people know—we may cultivate the seeds of anger, +pity, vanity, or excessive brooding, and make these +things fecund and productive, just as we can train +a beautiful plant to grow along trellis-work. We +may do this with the good or bad taste of a +<pb n='389'/><anchor id='Pg389'/> +gardener, and as it were, in the French, English, +Dutch, or Chinese style. We may let nature take +its own course, only trimming and embellishing a +little here and there; and finally, without any +knowledge or consideration, we may even allow the +plants to spring up in accordance with their own +natural growth and limitations, and fight out their +battle among themselves,—nay, we can even take +delight in such chaos, though we may possibly +have a hard time with it! All this is at our option: +but how many know that it is? Do not the majority +of people believe in themselves as complete and +perfect facts? and have not the great philosophers +set their seal on this prejudice through their doctrine +of the unchangeability of character? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>561.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Letting our Happiness also Shine.</hi>—In the +same way as painters are unable to reproduce the +deep brilliant hue of the natural sky, and are compelled +to use all the colours they require for their +landscapes a few shades deeper than nature has +made them—just as they, by means of this trick, succeed +in approaching the brilliancy and harmony of +nature's own hues, so also must poets and philosophers, +for whom the luminous rays of happiness +are inaccessible, endeavour to find an expedient. +By picturing all things a shade or two darker than +they really are, their light, in which they excel, will +produce almost exactly the same effect as the +sunlight, and will resemble the light of true happiness.—The +pessimist, on the other hand, who paints +<pb n='390'/><anchor id='Pg390'/> +all things in the blackest and most sombre hues, +only makes use of bright flames, lightning, celestial +glories, and everything that possesses a glaring, +dazzling power, and bewilders our eyes: to him +light only serves the purpose of increasing the +horror, and of making us look upon things as being +more dreadful than they really are. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>562.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Settled and the Free.</hi>—It is only in +the Underworld that we catch a glimpse of that +gloomy background of all that bliss of adventure +which forms an everlasting halo around Ulysses +and his like, rivalling the eternal phosphorescence +of the sea,—that background which we can never +forget: the mother of Ulysses died of grief and +yearning for her child. The one is driven on from +place to place, and the heart of the other, the tender +stay-at-home friend, breaks through it—so it always +is. Affliction breaks the hearts of those who live +to see that those whom they love best are deserting +their former views and faith,—it is a tragedy +brought about by the free spirits,—a tragedy which, +indeed, occasionally comes to their own knowledge. +Then, perhaps, they too, like Ulysses, will be forced +to descend among the dead to get rid of their +sorrow and to relieve their affliction. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>563.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Illusion of the Moral Order of the +Universe.</hi>—There is no <q>eternal justice</q> which +<pb n='391'/><anchor id='Pg391'/> +requires that every fault shall be atoned and paid +for,—the belief that such a justice existed was a +terrible delusion, and useful only to a limited extent; +just as it is also a delusion that everything is guilt +which is felt as such. It is not the things themselves, +but the opinions about things that do not exist, which +have been such a source of trouble to mankind. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>564.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>By the Side of Experience.</hi>—Even great intellects +have only a hand-breadth experience—in +the immediate proximity of this experience their +reflection ceases, and its place is taken by unlimited +vacuity and stupidity. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>565.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Dignity and Ignorance.</hi>—Wherever we +understand we become amiable, happy, and ingenious; +and when we have learnt enough, and +have trained our eyes and ears, our souls show +greater plasticity and charm. We understand so +little, however, and are so insufficiently informed, +that it rarely happens that we seize upon a thing +and make ourselves lovable at the same time,—on +the contrary we pass through cities, nature, and +history with stiffness and indifference, at the same +time taking a pride in our stiff and indifferent +attitude, as if it were simply due to superiority. +Thus our ignorance and our mediocre desire for +knowledge understand quite well how to assume a +mask of dignity and character. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='392'/><anchor id='Pg392'/> + +<div> +<head>566.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Living Cheaply.</hi>—The cheapest and most innocent +mode of life is that of the thinker; for, to +mention at once its most important feature, he has +the greatest need of those very things which others +neglect and look upon with contempt. In the +second place he is easily pleased and has no desire +for any expensive pleasures. His task is not difficult, +but, so to speak, southern; his days and nights +are not wasted by remorse; he moves, eats, drinks, +and sleeps in a manner suited to his intellect, in +order that it may grow calmer, stronger, and +clearer. Again, he takes pleasure in his body and +has no reason to fear it; he does not require +society, except from time to time in order that he +may afterwards go back to his solitude with even +greater delight. He seeks and finds in the dead +compensation for the living, and can even replace +his friends in this way—viz., by seeking out among +the dead the best who have ever lived.—Let us +consider whether it is not the contrary desires and +habits which have made the life of man expensive, +and as a consequence difficult and often unbearable. +In another sense, however, the thinker's life is +certainly the most expensive, for nothing is too +good for him; and it would be an intolerable +privation for him to be deprived of the best. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>567.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>In the Field.</hi>—<q>We should take things more +cheerfully than they deserve; especially because for +<pb n='393'/><anchor id='Pg393'/> +a very long time we have taken them more seriously +than they deserved.</q> So speak the brave soldiers +of knowledge. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>568.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Poet and Bird.</hi>—The bird Phœnix showed the +poet a glowing scroll which was being gradually +consumed in the flames. <q>Be not alarmed,</q> said +the bird, <q>it is your work! It does not contain +the spirit of the age, and to a still less extent the +spirit of those who are against the age: so it must +be burnt. But that is a good sign. There is many +a dawn of day.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>569.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>To the Lonely Ones.</hi>—If we do not respect +the honour of others in our soliloquies as well as +in what we say publicly, we are not gentlemen. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>570.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Losses.</hi>—There are some losses which communicate +to the soul a sublimity in which it ceases +from wailing, and wanders about silently, as if in the +shade of some high and dark cypresses. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>571.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Battle-Field Dispensary of the Soul.</hi>—What +is the most efficacious remedy?—Victory. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>572.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Life shall Comfort Us.</hi>—If, like the thinker, +we live habitually amid the great current of ideas +<pb n='394'/><anchor id='Pg394'/> +and feelings, and even our dreams follow this current, +we expect comfort and peacefulness from life, +while others wish to rest from life when they give +themselves up to meditation. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>573.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Casting One's Skin.</hi>—The snake that cannot +cast its skin perishes. So too with those minds +which are prevented from changing their views: +they cease to be minds. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>574.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Never Forget!</hi>—The higher we soar the +smaller we appear to those who cannot fly. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>575.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>We Aeronauts of the Intellect.</hi>—All +those daring birds that soar far and ever farther +into space, will somewhere or other be certain to +find themselves unable to continue their flight, and +they will perch on a mast or some narrow ledge—and +will be grateful even for this miserable accommodation! +But who could conclude from this +that there was not an endless free space stretching +far in front of them, and that they had flown as +far as they possibly could? In the end, however, +all our great teachers and predecessors have come +to a standstill, and it is by no means in the noblest +or most graceful attitude that their weariness has +brought them to a pause: the same thing will +happen to you and me! but what does this matter +<pb n='395'/><anchor id='Pg395'/> +to either of us? <emph>Other birds will fly farther!</emph> Our +minds and hopes vie with them far out and on high; +they rise far above our heads and our failures, and +from this height they look far into the distant +horizon and see hundreds of birds much more +powerful than we are, striving whither we ourselves +have also striven, and where all is sea, sea, and +nothing but sea! +</p> + +<p> +And where, then, are we aiming at? Do we +wish to cross the sea? whither does this over-powering +passion urge us, this passion which we +value more highly than any other delight? Why +do we fly precisely in this direction, where all the +suns of humanity have hitherto set? Is it possible +that people may one day say of us that we also +steered westward, hoping to reach India—but that +it was our fate to be wrecked on the infinite? Or, +my brethren? or—? +</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> |