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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3d79444 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51580 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51580) diff --git a/old/51580-0.txt b/old/51580-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b66cedf..0000000 --- a/old/51580-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4281 +0,0 @@ -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51580 *** - -ON THE FUTURE OF OUR -EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS - -HOMER AND CLASSICAL PHILOLOGY - -By - -FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE - - -TRANSLATED, WITH INTRODUCTION, BY - -J.M. KENNEDY - - - -The Complete Works of Friedrich Nietzsche - -The First Complete and Authorised English Translation - -Edited by Dr Oscar Levy - -Volume Three - -T.N. FOULIS - -13 & 15 FREDERICK STREET - -EDINBURGH: AND LONDON - -1909 - - - - -CONTENTS - -TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION -AUTHOR'S PREFACE -AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION -THE FUTURE OF OUR EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS - FIRST LECTURE - SECOND LECTURE - THIRD LECTURE - FOURTH LECTURE - FIFTH LECTURE -HOMER AND CLASSICAL PHILOLOGY - - - - -TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION - - -"On the Future of our Educational Institutions" comprehends a series -of five lectures delivered by Nietzsche when Professor of Classical -Philology at Băle University. As they were prepared when he was only -twenty-seven years of age, we can scarcely expect to find in them that -broad, "good European" point of view which we meet with in his later -works. These lectures, however, are not only highly interesting in -themselves; but indispensable for those who wish to trace the gradual -development of Nietzsche's thought. - -Nietzsche's aim, as is now pretty well known, was the elevation of the -type man. At this period of his life he believed that this end could -be best attained by the protection and careful development of men of -genius, Hence his antagonism in the following lectures towards the -purely time-serving German schools and colleges of his age, in which -culture was not only neglected but not even known--the one aim of the -teachers being to instruct the pupils in the art of "getting on," of -playing a successful part in the struggle for existence, of becoming -useful citizens. Of course, Nietzsche was too little of a wild reformer -to be adverse to a schooling of this nature. He freely admits that -a bread-winning education is necessary for the majority, and that -officials are necessary to the State; but he adds that everything -learnt as a preparation for taking part in the commercial or political -battle of life has nothing to do with culture. True culture is only for -a few select minds, which it is necessary to bring together under the -protecting roof of an institution that shall prepare them for culture, -and for culture only. Such an institution, he goes on to say, does not -yet exist; but we must have it if the delicate flower of the German -mind is no longer to be choked by the noxious weeds which have gathered -round it. As instances of minds thus "choked," Nietzsche mentions -Lessing, Winckelmann, and Schiller. - -The standard of culture to be aimed at by the man of genius Nietzsche -had in mind was to be found in the model literary and artistic -works which have come down to us from ancient Greece. To understand -these works, of course, the classical authors had to be studied in -the original, and the methods of teaching then in vogue paid too -much attention to inconsequential points (<i>e.g.</i> variant readings) -instead of dealing with the subject in a broad-minded philosophical -spirit. Nietzsche endeavoured to counteract this tendency in the -"Homer and Classical Philology," his inaugural address at Băle -University, by outlining a much vaster conception of philology than -his fellow-teachers had ever dreamt of, laying stress upon the -<i>artistic</i> results which would accrue if the science were applied on a -wider scale--results which would be of a much higher order than those -obtained by the narrow pedantry then prevailing. - -It is a very superficial comment on these lectures to say that -Nietzsche was merely referring to the German schools and colleges -of his time. It would be even shallower to suggest that his remarks -do not apply to the schools and teachers of present-day England and -America; for we likewise do not possess the cultural institution, the -<i>real</i> educational establishment, that Nietzsche longed for. Broadly -speaking, the English public schools, the older English universities, -and the American high schools, train their scholars to be useful to -the State: the modern universities and the remaining schools give that -instructionin bread-winning which Nietzsche admits to be necessary -for the majority; but in no case is an attempt made to pick out a few -higher minds and train them for culture. Our crude methods of teaching -the classical languages are too well known to be commented upon; and -an insight into classical antiquity, with the good taste, the firm -principles, and the lofty aims obtained therefrom, is exactly what -our various educational institutions do not aim at giving. Yet, as -Nietzsche truly says, no progress in any other direction, no matter -how brilliant, can deliver our students from the curse of an education -which adapts itself more and more to the needs of the age, and thus -loses all its power of guiding the age. Let the student who, as the -victim of this system, suffers more from it than his teachers care to -admit, read the paragraph on pp. 132 and 133 containing the sentences-- - - He feels that he can neither lead nor help himself.... His - condition is undignified, even dreadful: he keeps between - the two extremes of work at high pressure and a state of - melancholy enervation.... He seeks consolation in hasty and - incessant action so as to hide himself from himself, etc., - -and then let him confess that Nietzsche's insight into his psychology -is profound and decisive. The whole paragraph might have been written -by Nietzsche after a visit to present-day England. - -As bearing upon the same subject, the reader will find it interesting -to compare the lectures here translated with Matthew Arnold's prose -writings passim, particularly the <i>Essays in Criticism, Mixed Essays,</i> -and <i>Culture and Anarchy</i>. - -J. M. KENNEDY. - -LONDON, May 1909. - - - - - -PREFACE. - - -The reader from whom I expect something must possess three qualities: -he must be calm and must read without haste; he must not be ever -interposing his own personality and his own special "culture"; and he -must not expect as the ultimate results of his study of these pages -that he will be presented with a set of new formulæ. I do not propose -to furnish formulæ or new plans of study for _Gymnasia_ or other -schools; and I am much more inclined to admire the extraordinary power -of those who are able to cover the whole distance between the depths -of empiricism and the heights of special culture-problems, and who -again descend to the level of the driest rules and the most neatly -expressed formulæ. I shall be content if only I can ascend a tolerably -lofty mountain, from the summit of which, after having recovered my -breath, I may obtain a general survey of the ground; for I shall never -be able, in this book, to satisfy the votaries of tabulated rules. -Indeed, I see a time coming when serious men, working together in the -service of a completely rejuvenated and purified culture, may again -become the directors of a system of everyday instruction, calculated -to promote that culture; and they will probably be compelled once more -to draw up sets of rules: but how remote this time now seems! And what -may not happen meanwhile! It is just possible that between now and -then all _Gymnasia_--yea, and perhaps all universities, may be -destroyed, or have become so utterly transformed that their very -regulations may, in the eyes of future generations, seem to be but the -relics of the cave-dwellers' age. - -This book is intended for calm readers,--for men who have not yet been -drawn into the mad headlong rush of our hurry-skurrying age, and who -do not experience any idolatrous delight in throwing themselves -beneath its chariot-wheels. It is for men, therefore, who are not -accustomed to estimate the value of everything according to the amount -of time it either saves or wastes. In short, it is for the few. These, -we believe, "still have time." Without any qualms of conscience they -may improve the most fruitful and vigorous hours of their day in -meditating on the future of our education; they may even believe when -the evening has come that they have used their day in the most -dignified and useful way, namely, in the _meditatio generis futuri_. -No one among them has yet forgotten to think while reading a book; he -still understands the secret of reading between the lines, and is -indeed so generous in what he himself brings to his study, that he -continues to reflect upon what he has read, perhaps long after he has -laid the book aside. And he does this, not because he wishes to write -a criticism about it or even another book; but simply because -reflection is a pleasant pastime to him. Frivolous spendthrift! Thou -art a reader after my own heart; for thou wilt be patient enough to -accompany an author any distance, even though he himself cannot yet -see the goal at which he is aiming,--even though he himself feels only -that he must at all events honestly believe in a goal, in order that a -future and possibly very remote generation may come face to face with -that towards which we are now blindly and instinctively groping. -Should any reader demur and suggest that all that is required is -prompt and bold reform; should he imagine that a new "organisation" -introduced by the State, were all that is necessary, then we fear he -would have misunderstood not only the author but the very nature of -the problem under consideration. - -The third and most important stipulation is, that he should in no case -be constantly bringing himself and his own "culture" forward, after -the style of most modern men, as the correct standard and measure of -all things. We would have him so highly educated that he could even -think meanly of his education or despise it altogether. Only thus -would he be able to trust entirely to the author's guidance; for it is -only by virtue of ignorance and his consciousness of ignorance, that -the latter can dare to make himself heard. Finally, the author would -wish his reader to be fully alive to the specific character of our -present barbarism and of that which distinguishes us, as the -barbarians of the nineteenth century, from other barbarians. - -Now, with this book in his hand, the writer seeks all those who may -happen to be wandering, hither and thither, impelled by feelings -similar to his own. Allow yourselves to be discovered--ye lonely ones -in whose existence I believe! Ye unselfish ones, suffering in -yourselves from the corruption of the German spirit! Ye contemplative -ones who cannot, with hasty glances, turn your eyes swiftly from one -surface to another! Ye lofty thinkers, of whom Aristotle said that ye -wander through life vacillating and inactive so long as no great -honour or glorious Cause calleth you to deeds! It is you I summon! -Refrain this once from seeking refuge in your lairs of solitude and -dark misgivings. Bethink you that this book was framed to be your -herald. When ye shall go forth to battle in your full panoply, who -among you will not rejoice in looking back upon the herald who rallied -you? - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - - -The title I gave to these lectures ought, like all titles, to have -been as definite, as plain, and as significant as possible; now, -however, I observe that owing to a certain excess of precision, in its -present form it is too short and consequently misleading. My first -duty therefore will be to explain the title, together with the object -of these lectures, to you, and to apologise for being obliged to do -this. When I promised to speak to you concerning the future of our -educational institutions, I was not thinking especially of the -evolution of our particular institutions in Bâle. However frequently -my general observations may seem to bear particular application to our -own conditions here, I personally have no desire to draw these -inferences, and do not wish to be held responsible if they should be -drawn, for the simple reason that I consider myself still far too much -an inexperienced stranger among you, and much too superficially -acquainted with your methods, to pretend to pass judgment upon any -such special order of scholastic establishments, or to predict the -probable course their development will follow. On the other hand, I -know full well under what distinguished auspices I have to deliver -these lectures--namely, in a city which is striving to educate and -enlighten its inhabitants on a scale so magnificently out of -proportion to its size, that it must put all larger cities to shame. -This being so, I presume I am justified in assuming that in a quarter -where so much is _done_ for the things of which I wish to speak, -people must also _think_ a good deal about them. My desire--yea, my -very first condition, therefore, would be to become united in spirit -with those who have not only thought very deeply upon educational -problems, but have also the will to promote what they think to be -right by all the means in their power. And, in view of the -difficulties of my task and the limited time at my disposal, to such -listeners, alone, in my audience, shall I be able to make myself -understood--and even then, it will be on condition that they shall -guess what I can do no more than suggest, that they shall supply what -I am compelled to omit; in brief, that they shall need but to be -reminded and not to be taught. Thus, while I disclaim all desire of -being taken for an uninvited adviser on questions relating to the -schools and the University of Bâle, I repudiate even more emphatically -still the rôle of a prophet standing on the horizon of civilisation -and pretending to predict the future of education and of scholastic -organisation. I can no more project my vision through such vast -periods of time than I can rely upon its accuracy when it is brought -too close to an object under examination. With my title: _Our_ -Educational Institutions, I wish to refer neither to the -establishments in Bâle nor to the incalculably vast number of other -scholastic institutions which exist throughout the nations of the -world to-day; but I wish to refer to _German institutions_ of the kind -which we rejoice in here. It is their future that will now engage our -attention, _i.e._ the future of German elementary, secondary, and -public schools (Gymnasien) and universities. While pursuing our -discussion, however, we shall for once avoid all comparisons and -valuations, and guard more especially against that flattering illusion -that our conditions should be regarded as the standard for all others -and as surpassing them. Let it suffice that they are our institutions, -that they have not become a part of ourselves by mere accident, and -were not laid upon us like a garment; but that they are living -monuments of important steps in the progress of civilisation, in some -respects even the furniture of a bygone age, and as such link us with -the past of our people, and are such a sacred and venerable legacy -that I can only undertake to speak of the future of our educational -institutions in the sense of their being a most probable approximation -to the ideal spirit which gave them birth. I am, moreover, convinced -that the numerous alterations which have been introduced into these -institutions within recent years, with the view of bringing them -up-to-date, are for the most part but distortions and aberrations of -the originally sublime tendencies given to them at their foundation. -And what we dare to hope from the future, in this behalf, partakes so -much of the nature of a rejuvenation, a reviviscence, and a refining -of the spirit of Germany that, as a result of this very process, our -educational institutions may also be indirectly remoulded and born -again, so as to appear at once old and new, whereas now they only -profess to be "modern" or "up-to-date." - -Now it is only in the spirit of the hope above mentioned that I wish -to speak of the future of our educational institutions: and this is -the second point in regard to which I must tender an apology from the -outset. The "prophet" pose is such a presumptuous one that it seems -almost ridiculous to deny that I have the intention of adopting it. -No one should attempt to describe the future of our education, and -the means and methods of instruction relating thereto, in a prophetic -spirit, unless he can prove that the picture he draws already exists -in germ to-day, and that all that is required is the extension and -development of this embryo if the necessary modifications are to be -produced in schools and other educational institutions. All I ask, -is, like a Roman haruspex, to be allowed to steal glimpses of the -future out of the very entrails of existing conditions, which, in -this case, means no more than to hand the laurels of victory to any -one of the many forces tending to make itself felt in our present -educational system, despite the fact that the force in question may -be neither a favourite, an esteemed, nor a very extensive one. I -confidently assert that it will be victorious, however, because it -has the strongest and mightiest of all allies in nature herself; and -in this respect it were well did we not forget that scores of the -very first principles of our modern educational methods are -thoroughly artificial, and that the most fatal weaknesses of the -present day are to be ascribed to this artificiality. He who feels in -complete harmony with the present state of affairs and who acquiesces -in it _as something_ "_selbstverständliches_,"[1] excites our envy -neither in regard to his faith nor in regard to that egregious word -"_selbstverständlich_," so frequently heard in fashionable circles. - -He, however, who holds the opposite view and is therefore in despair, -does not need to fight any longer: all he requires is to give himself -up to solitude in order soon to be alone. Albeit, between those who -take everything for granted and these anchorites, there stand the -_fighters_--that is to say, those who still have hope, and as the -noblest and sublimest example of this class, we recognise Schiller as -he is described by Goethe in his "Epilogue to the Bell." - - "Brighter now glow'd his cheek, and still more bright - With that unchanging, ever youthful glow:-- - That courage which o'ercomes, in hard-fought fight, - Sooner or later ev'ry earthly foe,-- - That faith which soaring to the realms of light, - Now boldly presseth on, now bendeth low, - So that the good may work, wax, thrive amain, - So that the day the noble may attain."[2] - -I should like you to regard all I have just said as a kind of preface, -the object of which is to illustrate the title of my lectures and to -guard me against any possible misunderstanding and unjustified -criticisms. And now, in order to give you a rough outline of the range -of ideas from which I shall attempt to form a judgment concerning our -educational institutions, before proceeding to disclose my views and -turning from the title to the main theme, I shall lay a scheme before -you which, like a coat of arms, will serve to warn all strangers who -come to my door, as to the nature of the house they are about to -enter, in case they may feel inclined, after having examined the -device, to turn their backs on the premises that bear it. My scheme is -as follows:-- - -Two seemingly antagonistic forces, equally deleterious in their -actions and ultimately combining to produce their results, are at -present ruling over our educational institutions, although these were -based originally upon very different principles. These forces are: a -striving to achieve the greatest possible _extension of education_ on -the one hand, and a tendency _to minimise and to weaken it_ on the -other. The first-named would fain spread learning among the greatest -possible number of people, the second would compel education to -renounce its highest and most independent claims in order to -subordinate itself to the service of the State. In the face of these -two antagonistic tendencies, we could but give ourselves up to -despair, did we not see the possibility of promoting the cause of two -other contending factors which are fortunately as completely German as -they are rich in promises for the future; I refer to the present -movement towards _limiting and concentrating_ education as the -antithesis of the first of the forces above mentioned, and that other -movement towards the _strengthening and the independence_ of education -as the antithesis of the second force. If we should seek a warrant for -our belief in the ultimate victory of the two last-named movements, we -could find it in the fact that both of the forces which we hold to be -deleterious are so opposed to the eternal purpose of nature as the -concentration of education for the few is in harmony with it, and is -true, whereas the first two forces could succeed only in founding a -culture false to the root. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] Selbstverständlich = "granted or self-understood." - -[2] _The Poems of Goethe._ Edgar Alfred Bowring's Translation. (Ed. -1853.) - - - - -THE FUTURE OF OUR EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. - - - - -FIRST LECTURE. - -(_Delivered on the 16th of January 1872._) - - -Ladies and Gentlemen,--The subject I now propose to consider with you -is such a serious and important one, and is in a sense so disquieting, -that, like you, I would gladly turn to any one who could proffer some -information concerning it,--were he ever so young, were his ideas ever -so improbable--provided that he were able, by the exercise of his own -faculties, to furnish some satisfactory and sufficient explanation. It -is just possible that he may have had the opportunity of _hearing_ -sound views expressed in reference to the vexed question of the future -of our educational institutions, and that he may wish to repeat them -to you; he may even have had distinguished teachers, fully qualified -to foretell what is to come, and, like the _haruspices_ of Rome, able -to do so after an inspection of the entrails of the Present. - -Indeed, you yourselves may expect something of this kind from me. I -happened once, in strange but perfectly harmless circumstances, to -overhear a conversation on this subject between two remarkable men, -and the more striking points of the discussion, together with their -manner of handling the theme, are so indelibly imprinted on my memory -that, whenever I reflect on these matters, I invariably find myself -falling into their grooves of thought. I cannot, however, profess to -have the same courageous confidence which they displayed, both in -their daring utterance of forbidden truths, and in the still more -daring conception of the hopes with which they astonished me. It -therefore seemed to me to be in the highest degree important that a -record of this conversation should be made, so that others might be -incited to form a judgment concerning the striking views and -conclusions it contains: and, to this end, I had special grounds for -believing that I should do well to avail myself of the opportunity -afforded by this course of lectures. - -I am well aware of the nature of the community to whose serious -consideration I now wish to commend that conversation--I know it to be -a community which is striving to educate and enlighten its members on -a scale so magnificently out of proportion to its size that it must -put all larger cities to shame. This being so, I presume I may take it -for granted that in a quarter where so much is _done_ for the things -of which I wish to speak, people must also _think_ a good deal about -them. In my account of the conversation already mentioned, I shall be -able to make myself completely understood only to those among my -audience who will be able to guess what I can do no more than suggest, -who will supply what I am compelled to omit, and who, above all, need -but to be reminded and not taught. - -Listen, therefore, ladies and gentlemen, while I recount my harmless -experience and the less harmless conversation between the two -gentlemen whom, so far, I have not named. - -Let us now imagine ourselves in the position of a young student--that -is to say, in a position which, in our present age of bewildering -movement and feverish excitability, has become an almost impossible -one. It is necessary to have lived through it in order to believe that -such careless self-lulling and comfortable indifference to the moment, -or to time in general, are possible. In this condition I, and a friend -about my own age, spent a year at the University of Bonn on the -Rhine,--it was a year which, in its complete lack of plans and -projects for the future, seems almost like a dream to me now--a dream -framed, as it were, by two periods of growth. We two remained quiet -and peaceful, although we were surrounded by fellows who in the main -were very differently disposed, and from time to time we experienced -considerable difficulty in meeting and resisting the somewhat too -pressing advances of the young men of our own age. Now, however, that -I can look upon the stand we had to take against these opposing -forces, I cannot help associating them in my mind with those checks we -are wont to receive in our dreams, as, for instance, when we imagine -we are able to fly and yet feel ourselves held back by some -incomprehensible power. - -I and my friend had many reminiscences in common, and these dated from -the period of our boyhood upwards. One of these I must relate to you, -since it forms a sort of prelude to the harmless experience already -mentioned. On the occasion of a certain journey up the Rhine, which we -had made together one summer, it happened that he and I independently -conceived the very same plan at the same hour and on the same spot, -and we were so struck by this unwonted coincidence that we determined -to carry the plan out forthwith. We resolved to found a kind of small -club which would consist of ourselves and a few friends, and the -object of which would be to provide us with a stable and binding -organisation directing and adding interest to our creative impulses in -art and literature; or, to put it more plainly: each of us would be -pledged to present an original piece of work to the club once a -month,--either a poem, a treatise, an architectural design, or a -musical composition, upon which each of the others, in a friendly -spirit, would have to pass free and unrestrained criticism. - -We thus hoped, by means of mutual correction, to be able both to -stimulate and to chasten our creative impulses and, as a matter of -fact, the success of the scheme was such that we have both always felt -a sort of respectful attachment for the hour and the place at which it -first took shape in our minds. - -This attachment was very soon transformed into a rite; for we all -agreed to go, whenever it was possible to do so, once a year to that -lonely spot near Rolandseck, where on that summer's day, while sitting -together, lost in meditation, we were suddenly inspired by the same -thought. Frankly speaking, the rules which were drawn up on the -formation of the club were never very strictly observed; but owing to -the very fact that we had many sins of omission on our conscience -during our student-year in Bonn, when we were once more on the banks -of the Rhine, we firmly resolved not only to observe our rule, but -also to gratify our feelings and our sense of gratitude by reverently -visiting that spot near Rolandseck on the day appointed. - -It was, however, with some difficulty that we were able to carry our -plans into execution; for, on the very day we had selected for our -excursion, the large and lively students' association, which always -hindered us in our flights, did their utmost to put obstacles in our -way and to hold us back. Our association had organised a general -holiday excursion to Rolandseck on the very day my friend and I had -fixed upon, the object of the outing being to assemble all its members -for the last time at the close of the half-year and to send them home -with pleasant recollections of their last hours together. - -The day was a glorious one; the weather was of the kind which, in our -climate at least, only falls to our lot in late summer: heaven and -earth merged harmoniously with one another, and, glowing wondrously in -the sunshine, autumn freshness blended with the blue expanse above. -Arrayed in the bright fantastic garb in which, amid the gloomy -fashions now reigning, students alone may indulge, we boarded a -steamer which was gaily decorated in our honour, and hoisted our flag -on its mast. From both banks of the river there came at intervals the -sound of signal-guns, fired according to our orders, with the view of -acquainting both our host in Rolandseck and the inhabitants in the -neighbourhood with our approach. I shall not speak of the noisy -journey from the landing-stage, through the excited and expectant -little place, nor shall I refer to the esoteric jokes exchanged -between ourselves; I also make no mention of a feast which became both -wild and noisy, or of an extraordinary musical production in the -execution of which, whether as soloists or as chorus, we all -ultimately had to share, and which I, as musical adviser of our club, -had not only had to rehearse, but was then forced to conduct. Towards -the end of this piece, which grew ever wilder and which was sung to -ever quicker time, I made a sign to my friend, and just as the last -chord rang like a yell through the building, he and I vanished, -leaving behind us a raging pandemonium. - -In a moment we were in the refreshing and breathless stillness of -nature. The shadows were already lengthening, the sun still shone -steadily, though it had sunk a good deal in the heavens, and from the -green and glittering waves of the Rhine a cool breeze was wafted over -our hot faces. Our solemn rite bound us only in so far as the latest -hours of the day were concerned, and we therefore determined to employ -the last moments of clear daylight by giving ourselves up to one of -our many hobbies. - -At that time we were passionately fond of pistol-shooting, and both of -us in later years found the skill we had acquired as amateurs of great -use in our military career. Our club servant happened to know the -somewhat distant and elevated spot which we used as a range, and had -carried our pistols there in advance. The spot lay near the upper -border of the wood which covered the lesser heights behind Rolandseck: -it was a small uneven plateau, close to the place we had consecrated -in memory of its associations. On a wooded slope alongside of our -shooting-range there was a small piece of ground which had been -cleared of wood, and which made an ideal halting-place; from it one -could get a view of the Rhine over the tops of the trees and the -brushwood, so that the beautiful, undulating lines of the Seven -Mountains and above all of the Drachenfels bounded the horizon against -the group of trees, while in the centre of the bow formed by the -glistening Rhine itself the island of Nonnenwörth stood out as if -suspended in the river's arms. This was the place which had become -sacred to us through the dreams and plans we had had in common, and to -which we intended to withdraw, later in the evening,--nay, to which we -should be obliged to withdraw, if we wished to close the day in -accordance with the law we had imposed on ourselves. - -At one end of the little uneven plateau, and not very far away, there -stood the mighty trunk of an oak-tree, prominently visible against a -background quite bare of trees and consisting merely of low undulating -hills in the distance. Working together, we had once carved a -pentagram in the side of this tree-trunk. Years of exposure to rain -and storm had slightly deepened the channels we had cut, and the -figure seemed a welcome target for our pistol-practice. It was already -late in the afternoon when we reached our improvised range, and our -oak-stump cast a long and attenuated shadow across the barren heath. -All was still: thanks to the lofty trees at our feet, we were unable -to catch a glimpse of the valley of the Rhine below. The peacefulness -of the spot seemed only to intensify the loudness of our -pistol-shots--and I had scarcely fired my second barrel at the -pentagram when I felt some one lay hold of my arm and noticed that my -friend had also some one beside him who had interrupted his loading. - -Turning sharply on my heels I found myself face to face with an -astonished old gentleman, and felt what must have been a very powerful -dog make a lunge at my back. My friend had been approached by a -somewhat younger man than I had; but before we could give expression -to our surprise the older of the two interlopers burst forth in the -following threatening and heated strain: "No! no!" he called to us, -"no duels must be fought here, but least of all must you young -students fight one. Away with these pistols and compose yourselves. Be -reconciled, shake hands! What?--and are you the salt of the earth, -the intelligence of the future, the seed of our hopes--and are you -not even able to emancipate yourselves from the insane code of honour -and its violent regulations? I will not cast any aspersions on your -hearts, but your heads certainly do you no credit. You, whose youth is -watched over by the wisdom of Greece and Rome, and whose youthful -spirits, at the cost of enormous pains, have been flooded with the -light of the sages and heroes of antiquity,--can you not refrain from -making the code of knightly honour--that is to say, the code of folly -and brutality--the guiding principle of your conduct?--Examine it -rationally once and for all, and reduce it to plain terms; lay its -pitiable narrowness bare, and let it be the touchstone, not of your -hearts but of your minds. If you do not regret it then, it will merely -show that your head is not fitted for work in a sphere where great -gifts of discrimination are needful in order to burst the bonds of -prejudice, and where a well-balanced understanding is necessary for -the purpose of distinguishing right from wrong, even when the -difference between them lies deeply hidden and is not, as in this -case, so ridiculously obvious. In that case, therefore, my lads, try -to go through life in some other honourable manner; join the army or -learn a handicraft that pays its way." - -To this rough, though admittedly just, flood of eloquence, we replied -with some irritation, interrupting each other continually in so doing: -"In the first place, you are mistaken concerning the main point; for -we are not here to fight a duel at all; but rather to practise -pistol-shooting. Secondly, you do not appear to know how a real duel -is conducted;--do you suppose that we should have faced each other in -this lonely spot, like two highwaymen, without seconds or doctors, -etc. etc.? Thirdly, with regard to the question of duelling, we each -have our own opinions, and do not require to be waylaid and surprised -by the sort of instruction you may feel disposed to give us." - -This reply, which was certainly not polite, made a bad impression upon -the old man. At first, when he heard that we were not about to fight a -duel, he surveyed us more kindly: but when we reached the last passage -of our speech, he seemed so vexed that he growled. When, however, we -began to speak of our point of view, he quickly caught hold of his -companion, turned sharply round, and cried to us in bitter tones: -"People should not have points of view, but thoughts!" And then his -companion added: "Be respectful when a man such as this even makes -mistakes!" - -Meanwhile, my friend, who had reloaded, fired a shot at the pentagram, -after having cried: "Look out!" This sudden report behind his back -made the old man savage; once more he turned round and looked sourly -at my friend, after which he said to his companion in a feeble voice: -"What shall we do? These young men will be the death of me with their -firing."--"You should know," said the younger man, turning to us, -"that your noisy pastimes amount, as it happens on this occasion, to -an attempt upon the life of philosophy. You observe this venerable -man,--he is in a position to beg you to desist from firing here. And -when such a man begs----" "Well, his request is generally granted," -the old man interjected, surveying us sternly. - -As a matter of fact, we did not know what to make of the whole matter; -we could not understand what our noisy pastimes could have in common -with philosophy; nor could we see why, out of regard for polite -scruples, we should abandon our shooting-range, and at this moment we -may have appeared somewhat undecided and perturbed. The companion -noticing our momentary discomfiture, proceeded to explain the matter -to us. - -"We are compelled," he said, "to linger in this immediate -neighbourhood for an hour or so; we have a rendezvous here. An eminent -friend of this eminent man is to meet us here this evening; and we had -actually selected this peaceful spot, with its few benches in the -midst of the wood, for the meeting. It would really be most unpleasant -if, owing to your continual pistol-practice, we were to be subjected -to an unending series of shocks; surely your own feelings will tell -you that it is impossible for you to continue your firing when you -hear that he who has selected this quiet and isolated place for a -meeting with a friend is one of our most eminent philosophers." - -This explanation only succeeded in perturbing us the more; for we saw -a danger threatening us which was even greater than the loss of our -shooting-range, and we asked eagerly, "Where is this quiet spot? -Surely not to the left here, in the wood?" - -"That is the very place." - -"But this evening that place belongs to us," my friend interposed. "We -must have it," we cried together. - -Our long-projected celebration seemed at that moment more important -than all the philosophies of the world, and we gave such vehement and -animated utterance to our sentiments that in view of the -incomprehensible nature of our claims we must have cut a somewhat -ridiculous figure. At any rate, our philosophical interlopers regarded -us with expressions of amused inquiry, as if they expected us to -proffer some sort of apology. But we were silent, for we wished above -all to keep our secret. - -Thus we stood facing one another in silence, while the sunset dyed the -tree-tops a ruddy gold. The philosopher contemplated the sun, his -companion contemplated him, and we turned our eyes towards our nook in -the woods which to-day we seemed in such great danger of losing. A -feeling of sullen anger took possession of us. What is philosophy, we -asked ourselves, if it prevents a man from being by himself or from -enjoying the select company of a friend,--in sooth, if it prevents him -from becoming a philosopher? For we regarded the celebration of our -rite as a thoroughly philosophical performance. In celebrating it we -wished to form plans and resolutions for the future, by means of quiet -reflections we hoped to light upon an idea which would once again help -us to form and gratify our spirit in the future, just as that former -idea had done during our boyhood. The solemn act derived its very -significance from this resolution, that nothing definite was to be -done, we were only to be alone, and to sit still and meditate, as we -had done five years before when we had each been inspired with the -same thought. It was to be a silent solemnisation, all reminiscence -and all future; the present was to be as a hyphen between the two. And -fate, now unfriendly, had just stepped into our magic circle--and we -knew not how to dismiss her;--the very unusual character of the -circumstances filled us with mysterious excitement. - -Whilst we stood thus in silence for some time, divided into two -hostile groups, the clouds above waxed ever redder and the evening -seemed to grow more peaceful and mild; we could almost fancy we heard -the regular breathing of nature as she put the final touches to her -work of art--the glorious day we had just enjoyed; when, suddenly, the -calm evening air was rent by a confused and boisterous cry of joy -which seemed to come from the Rhine. A number of voices could be heard -in the distance--they were those of our fellow-students who by that -time must have taken to the Rhine in small boats. It occurred to us -that we should be missed and that we should also miss something: -almost simultaneously my friend and I raised our pistols: our shots -were echoed back to us, and with their echo there came from the valley -the sound of a well-known cry intended as a signal of identification. -For our passion for shooting had brought us both repute and ill-repute -in our club. At the same time we were conscious that our behaviour -towards the silent philosophical couple had been exceptionally -ungentlemanly; they had been quietly contemplating us for some time, -and when we fired the shock made them draw close up to each other. We -hurried up to them, and each in our turn cried out: "Forgive us. That -was our last shot, and it was intended for our friends on the Rhine. -They have understood us, do you hear? If you insist upon having that -place among the trees, grant us at least the permission to recline -there also. You will find a number of benches on the spot: we shall -not disturb you; we shall sit quite still and shall not utter a word: -but it is now past seven o'clock and we _must_ go there at once. - -"That sounds more mysterious than it is," I added after a pause; "we -have made a solemn vow to spend this coming hour on that ground, and -there were reasons for the vow. The spot is sacred to us, owing to -some pleasant associations, it must also inaugurate a good future for -us. We shall therefore endeavour to leave you with no disagreeable -recollections of our meeting--even though we have done much to perturb -and frighten you." - -The philosopher was silent; his companion, however, said: "Our -promises and plans unfortunately compel us not only to remain, but -also to spend the same hour on the spot you have selected. It is left -for us to decide whether fate or perhaps a spirit has been responsible -for this extraordinary coincidence." - -"Besides, my friend," said the philosopher, "I am not half so -displeased with these warlike youngsters as I was. Did you observe -how quiet they were a moment ago, when we were contemplating the sun? -They neither spoke nor smoked, they stood stone still, I even believe -they meditated." - -Turning suddenly in our direction, he said: "_Were_ you meditating? -Just tell me about it as we proceed in the direction of our common -trysting-place." We took a few steps together and went down the slope -into the warm balmy air of the woods where it was already much darker. -On the way my friend openly revealed his thoughts to the philosopher, -he confessed how much he had feared that perhaps to-day for the first -time a philosopher was about to stand in the way of his -philosophising. - -The sage laughed. "What? You were afraid a philosopher would prevent -your philosophising? This might easily happen: and you have not yet -experienced such a thing? Has your university life been free from -experience? You surely attend lectures on philosophy?" - -This question discomfited us; for, as a matter of fact, there had been -no element of philosophy in our education up to that time. In those -days, moreover, we fondly imagined that everybody who held the post -and possessed the dignity of a philosopher must perforce be one: we -were inexperienced and badly informed. We frankly admitted that we had -not yet belonged to any philosophical college, but that we would -certainly make up for lost time. - -"Then what," he asked, "did you mean when you spoke of -philosophising?" Said I, "We are at a loss for a definition. But to -all intents and purposes we meant this, that we wished to make earnest -endeavours to consider the best possible means of becoming men of -culture." "That is a good deal and at the same time very little," -growled the philosopher; "just you think the matter over. Here are our -benches, let us discuss the question exhaustively: I shall not disturb -your meditations with regard to how you are to become men of culture. -I wish you success and--points of view, as in your duelling questions; -brand-new, original, and enlightened points of view. The philosopher -does not wish to prevent your philosophising: but refrain at least -from disconcerting him with your pistol-shots. Try to imitate the -Pythagoreans to-day: they, as servants of a true philosophy, had to -remain silent for five years--possibly you may also be able to remain -silent for five times fifteen minutes, as servants of your own future -culture, about which you seem so concerned." - -We had reached our destination: the solemnisation of our rite began. -As on the previous occasion, five years ago, the Rhine was once more -flowing beneath a light mist, the sky seemed bright and the woods -exhaled the same fragrance. We took our places on the farthest corner -of the most distant bench; sitting there we were almost concealed, and -neither the philosopher nor his companion could see our faces. We were -alone: when the sound of the philosopher's voice reached us, it had -become so blended with the rustling leaves and with the buzzing -murmur of the myriads of living things inhabiting the wooded height, -that it almost seemed like the music of nature; as a sound it -resembled nothing more than a distant monotonous plaint. We were -indeed undisturbed. - -Some time elapsed in this way, and while the glow of sunset grew -steadily paler the recollection of our youthful undertaking in the -cause of culture waxed ever more vivid. It seemed to us as if we owed -the greatest debt of gratitude to that little society we had founded; -for it had done more than merely supplement our public school -training; it had actually been the only fruitful society we had had, -and within its frame we even placed our public school life, as a -purely isolated factor helping us in our general efforts to attain to -culture. - -We knew this, that, thanks to our little society, no thought of -embracing any particular career had ever entered our minds in those -days. The all too frequent exploitation of youth by the State, for its -own purposes--that is to say, so that it may rear useful officials as -quickly as possible and guarantee their unconditional obedience to it -by means of excessively severe examinations--had remained quite -foreign to our education. And to show how little we had been actuated -by thoughts of utility or by the prospect of speedy advancement and -rapid success, on that day we were struck by the comforting -consideration that, even then, we had not yet decided what we should -be--we had not even troubled ourselves at all on this head. Our little -society had sown the seeds of this happy indifference in our souls and -for it alone we were prepared to celebrate the anniversary of its -foundation with hearty gratitude. I have already pointed out, I think, -that in the eyes of the present age, which is so intolerant of -anything that is not useful, such purposeless enjoyment of the moment, -such a lulling of one's self in the cradle of the present, must seem -almost incredible and at all events blameworthy. How useless we were! -And how proud we were of being useless! We used even to quarrel with -each other as to which of us should have the glory of being the more -useless. We wished to attach no importance to anything, to have strong -views about nothing, to aim at nothing; we wanted to take no thought -for the morrow, and desired no more than to recline comfortably like -good-for-nothings on the threshold of the present; and we did--bless -us! - ---That, ladies and gentlemen, was our standpoint then!-- - -Absorbed in these reflections, I was just about to give an answer to -the question of the future of _our_ Educational Institutions in the -same self-sufficient way, when it gradually dawned upon me that the -"natural music," coming from the philosopher's bench had lost its -original character and travelled to us in much more piercing and -distinct tones than before. Suddenly I became aware that I was -listening, that I was eavesdropping, and was passionately interested, -with both ears keenly alive to every sound. I nudged my friend who was -evidently somewhat tired, and I whispered: "Don't fall asleep! There -is something for us to learn over there. It applies to us, even -though it be not meant for us." - -For instance, I heard the younger of the two men defending himself -with great animation while the philosopher rebuked him with ever -increasing vehemence. "You are unchanged," he cried to him, -"unfortunately unchanged. It is quite incomprehensible to me how you -can still be the same as you were seven years ago, when I saw you for -the last time and left you with so much misgiving. I fear I must once -again divest you, however reluctantly, of the skin of modern culture -which you have donned meanwhile;--and what do I find beneath it? The -same immutable 'intelligible' character forsooth, according to Kant; -but unfortunately the same unchanged 'intellectual' character, -too--which may also be a necessity, though not a comforting one. I ask -myself to what purpose have I lived as a philosopher, if, possessed as -you are of no mean intelligence and a genuine thirst for knowledge, -all the years you have spent in my company have left no deeper -impression upon you. At present you are behaving as if you had not -even heard the cardinal principle of all culture, which I went to such -pains to inculcate upon you during our former intimacy. Tell me,--what -was that principle?" - -"I remember," replied the scolded pupil, "you used to say no one would -strive to attain to culture if he knew how incredibly small the number -of really cultured people actually is, and can ever be. And even this -number of really cultured people would not be possible if a prodigious -multitude, from reasons opposed to their nature and only led on by an -alluring delusion, did not devote themselves to education. It were -therefore a mistake publicly to reveal the ridiculous disproportion -between the number of really cultured people and the enormous -magnitude of the educational apparatus. Here lies the whole secret of -culture--namely, that an innumerable host of men struggle to achieve -it and work hard to that end, ostensibly in their own interests, -whereas at bottom it is only in order that it may be possible for the -few to attain to it." - -"That is the principle," said the philosopher,--"and yet you could so -far forget yourself as to believe that you are one of the few? This -thought has occurred to you--I can see. That, however, is the result -of the worthless character of modern education. The rights of genius -are being democratised in order that people may be relieved of the -labour of acquiring culture, and their need of it. Every one wants if -possible to recline in the shade of the tree planted by genius, and to -escape the dreadful necessity of working for him, so that his -procreation may be made possible. What? Are you too proud to be a -teacher? Do you despise the thronging multitude of learners? Do you -speak contemptuously of the teacher's calling? And, aping my mode of -life, would you fain live in solitary seclusion, hostilely isolated -from that multitude? Do you suppose that you can reach at one bound -what I ultimately had to win for myself only after long and determined -struggles, in order even to be able to live like a philosopher? And do -you not fear that solitude will wreak its vengeance upon you? Just -try living the life of a hermit of culture. One must be blessed with -overflowing wealth in order to live for the good of all on one's own -resources! Extraordinary youngsters! They felt it incumbent upon them -to imitate what is precisely most difficult and most high,--what is -possible only to the master, when they, above all, should know how -difficult and dangerous this is, and how many excellent gifts may be -ruined by attempting it!" - -"I will conceal nothing from you, sir," the companion replied. "I have -heard too much from your lips at odd times and have been too long in -your company to be able to surrender myself entirely to our present -system of education and instruction. I am too painfully conscious of -the disastrous errors and abuses to which you used to call my -attention--though I very well know that I am not strong enough to hope -for any success were I to struggle ever so valiantly against them. I -was overcome by a feeling of general discouragement; my recourse to -solitude was the result neither of pride nor arrogance. I would fain -describe to you what I take to be the nature of the educational -questions now attracting such enormous and pressing attention. It -seemed to me that I must recognise two main directions in the forces -at work--two seemingly antagonistic tendencies, equally deleterious in -their action, and ultimately combining to produce their results: a -striving to achieve the greatest possible _expansion_ of education on -the one hand, and a tendency to _minimise and weaken_ it on the -other. The first-named would, for various reasons, spread learning -among the greatest number of people; the second would compel education -to renounce its highest, noblest and sublimest claims in order to -subordinate itself to some other department of life--such as the -service of the State. - -"I believe I have already hinted at the quarter in which the cry for -the greatest possible expansion of education is most loudly raised. -This expansion belongs to the most beloved of the dogmas of modern -political economy. As much knowledge and education as possible; -therefore the greatest possible supply and demand--hence as much -happiness as possible:--that is the formula. In this case utility is -made the object and goal of education,--utility in the sense of -gain--the greatest possible pecuniary gain. In the quarter now under -consideration culture would be defined as that point of vantage which -enables one to 'keep in the van of one's age,' from which one can see -all the easiest and best roads to wealth, and with which one controls -all the means of communication between men and nations. The purpose of -education, according to this scheme, would be to rear the most -'current' men possible,--'current' being used here in the sense in -which it is applied to the coins of the realm. The greater the number -of such men, the happier a nation will be; and this precisely is the -purpose of our modern educational institutions: to help every one, as -far as his nature will allow, to become 'current'; to develop him so -that his particular degree of knowledge and science may yield him the -greatest possible amount of happiness and pecuniary gain. Every one -must be able to form some sort of estimate of himself; he must know -how much he may reasonably expect from life. The 'bond between -intelligence and property' which this point of view postulates has -almost the force of a moral principle. In this quarter all culture is -loathed which isolates, which sets goals beyond gold and gain, and -which requires time: it is customary to dispose of such eccentric -tendencies in education as systems of 'Higher Egotism,' or of 'Immoral -Culture--Epicureanism.' According to the morality reigning here, the -demands are quite different; what is required above all is 'rapid -education,' so that a money-earning creature may be produced with all -speed; there is even a desire to make this education so thorough that -a creature may be reared that will be able to earn a _great deal_ of -money. Men are allowed only the precise amount of culture which is -compatible with the interests of gain; but that amount, at least, is -expected from them. In short: mankind has a necessary right to -happiness on earth--that is why culture is necessary--but on that -account alone!" - -"I must just say something here," said the philosopher. "In the case -of the view you have described so clearly, there arises the great and -awful danger that at some time or other the great masses may overleap -the middle classes and spring headlong into this earthly bliss. That -is what is now called 'the social question.' It might seem to these -masses that education for the greatest number of men was only a means -to the earthly bliss of the few: the 'greatest possible expansion of -education' so enfeebles education that it can no longer confer -privileges or inspire respect. The most general form of culture is -simply barbarism. But I do not wish to interrupt your discussion." - -The companion continued: "There are yet other reasons, besides this -beloved economical dogma, for the expansion of education that is being -striven after so valiantly everywhere. In some countries the fear of -religious oppression is so general, and the dread of its results so -marked, that people in all classes of society long for culture and -eagerly absorb those elements of it which are supposed to scatter the -religious instincts. Elsewhere the State, in its turn, strives here -and there for its own preservation, after the greatest possible -expansion of education, because it always feels strong enough to bring -the most determined emancipation, resulting from culture, under its -yoke, and readily approves of everything which tends to extend -culture, provided that it be of service to its officials or soldiers, -but in the main to itself, in its competition with other nations. In -this case, the foundations of a State must be sufficiently broad and -firm to constitute a fitting counterpart to the complicated arches of -culture which it supports, just as in the first case the traces of -some former religious tyranny must still be felt for a people to be -driven to such desperate remedies. Thus, wherever I hear the masses -raise the cry for an expansion of education, I am wont to ask myself -whether it is stimulated by a greedy lust of gain and property, by -the memory of a former religious persecution, or by the prudent -egotism of the State itself. - -"On the other hand, it seemed to me that there was yet another -tendency, not so clamorous, perhaps, but quite as forcible, which, -hailing from various quarters, was animated by a different -desire,--the desire to minimise and weaken education. - -"In all cultivated circles people are in the habit of whispering to -one another words something after this style: that it is a general -fact that, owing to the present frantic exploitation of the scholar in -the service of his science, his _education_ becomes every day more -accidental and more uncertain. For the study of science has been -extended to such interminable lengths that he who, though not -exceptionally gifted, yet possesses fair abilities, will need to -devote himself exclusively to one branch and ignore all others if he -ever wish to achieve anything in his work. Should he then elevate -himself above the herd by means of his speciality, he still remains -one of them in regard to all else,--that is to say, in regard to all -the most important things in life. Thus, a specialist in science gets -to resemble nothing so much as a factory workman who spends his whole -life in turning one particular screw or handle on a certain instrument -or machine, at which occupation he acquires the most consummate skill. -In Germany, where we know how to drape such painful facts with the -glorious garments of fancy, this narrow specialisation on the part of -our learned men is even admired, and their ever greater deviation -from the path of true culture is regarded as a moral phenomenon. -'Fidelity in small things,' 'dogged faithfulness,' become expressions -of highest eulogy, and the lack of culture outside the speciality is -flaunted abroad as a sign of noble sufficiency. - -"For centuries it has been an understood thing that one alluded to -scholars alone when one spoke of cultured men; but experience tells us -that it would be difficult to find any necessary relation between the -two classes to-day. For at present the exploitation of a man for the -purpose of science is accepted everywhere without the slightest -scruple. Who still ventures to ask, What may be the value of a science -which consumes its minions in this vampire fashion? The division of -labour in science is practically struggling towards the same goal -which religions in certain parts of the world are consciously striving -after,--that is to say, towards the decrease and even the destruction -of learning. That, however, which, in the case of certain religions, -is a perfectly justifiable aim, both in regard to their origin and -their history, can only amount to self-immolation when transferred to -the realm of science. In all matters of a general and serious nature, -and above all, in regard to the highest philosophical problems, we -have now already reached a point at which the scientific man, as such, -is no longer allowed to speak. On the other hand, that adhesive and -tenacious stratum which has now filled up the interstices between the -sciences--Journalism--believes it has a mission to fulfil here, and -this it does, according to its own particular lights--that is to say, -as its name implies, after the fashion of a day-labourer. - -"It is precisely in journalism that the two tendencies combine and -become one. The expansion and the diminution of education here join -hands. The newspaper actually steps into the place of culture, and he -who, even as a scholar, wishes to voice any claim for education, must -avail himself of this viscous stratum of communication which cements -the seams between all forms of life, all classes, all arts, and all -sciences, and which is as firm and reliable as news paper is, as a -rule. In the newspaper the peculiar educational aims of the present -culminate, just as the journalist, the servant of the moment, has -stepped into the place of the genius, of the leader for all time, of -the deliverer from the tyranny of the moment. Now, tell me, -distinguished master, what hopes could I still have in a struggle -against the general topsy-turvification of all genuine aims for -education; with what courage can I, a single teacher, step forward, -when I know that the moment any seeds of real culture are sown, they -will be mercilessly crushed by the roller of this pseudo-culture? -Imagine how useless the most energetic work on the part of the -individual teacher must be, who would fain lead a pupil back into the -distant and evasive Hellenic world and to the real home of culture, -when in less than an hour, that same pupil will have recourse to a -newspaper, the latest novel, or one of those learned books, the very -style of which already bears the revolting impress of modern barbaric -culture----" - -"Now, silence a minute!" interjected the philosopher in a strong and -sympathetic voice. "I understand you now, and ought never to have -spoken so crossly to you. You are altogether right, save in your -despair. I shall now proceed to say a few words of consolation." - - - - -SECOND LECTURE. - -(_Delivered on the 6th of February 1872._) - - -LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,--Those among you whom I now have the pleasure of -addressing for the first time and whose only knowledge of my first -lecture has been derived from reports will, I hope, not mind being -introduced here into the middle of a dialogue which I had begun to -recount on the last occasion, and the last points of which I must now -recall. The philosopher's young companion was just pleading openly and -confidentially with his distinguished tutor, and apologising for -having so far renounced his calling as a teacher in order to spend his -days in comfortless solitude. No suspicion of superciliousness or -arrogance had induced him to form this resolve. - -"I have heard too much from your lips at various times," the -straightforward pupil said, "and have been too long in your company, -to surrender myself blindly to our present systems of education and -instruction. I am too painfully conscious of the disastrous errors and -abuses to which you were wont to call my attention; and yet I know -that I am far from possessing the requisite strength to meet with -success, however valiantly I might struggle to shatter the bulwarks -of this would-be culture. I was overcome by a general feeling of -depression: my recourse to solitude was not arrogance or -superciliousness." Whereupon, to account for his behaviour, he -described the general character of modern educational methods so -vividly that the philosopher could not help interrupting him in a -voice full of sympathy, and crying words of comfort to him. - -"Now, silence for a minute, my poor friend," he cried; "I can more -easily understand you now, and should not have lost my patience with -you. You are altogether right, save in your despair. I shall now -proceed to say a few words of comfort to you. How long do you suppose -the state of education in the schools of our time, which seems to -weigh so heavily upon you, will last? I shall not conceal my views on -this point from you: its time is over; its days are counted. The first -who will dare to be quite straightforward in this respect will hear -his honesty re-echoed back to him by thousands of courageous souls. -For, at bottom, there is a tacit understanding between the more nobly -gifted and more warmly disposed men of the present day. Every one of -them knows what he has had to suffer from the condition of culture in -schools; every one of them would fain protect his offspring from the -need of enduring similar drawbacks, even though he himself was -compelled to submit to them. If these feelings are never quite -honestly expressed, however, it is owing to a sad want of spirit among -modern pedagogues. These lack real initiative; there are too few -practical men among them--that is to say, too few who happen to have -good and new ideas, and who know that real genius and the real -practical mind must necessarily come together in the same individuals, -whilst the sober practical men have no ideas and therefore fall short -in practice. - -"Let any one examine the pedagogic literature of the present; he who -is not shocked at its utter poverty of spirit and its ridiculously -awkward antics is beyond being spoiled. Here our philosophy must not -begin with wonder but with dread; he who feels no dread at this point -must be asked not to meddle with pedagogic questions. The reverse, of -course, has been the rule up to the present; those who were terrified -ran away filled with embarrassment as you did, my poor friend, while -the sober and fearless ones spread their heavy hands over the most -delicate technique that has ever existed in art--over the technique of -education. This, however, will not be possible much longer; at some -time or other the upright man will appear, who will not only have the -good ideas I speak of, but who in order to work at their realisation, -will dare to break with all that exists at present: he may by means of -a wonderful example achieve what the broad hands, hitherto active, -could not even imitate--then people will everywhere begin to draw -comparisons; then men will at least be able to perceive a contrast and -will be in a position to reflect upon its causes, whereas, at present, -so many still believe, in perfect good faith, that heavy hands are a -necessary factor in pedagogic work." - -"My dear master," said the younger man, "I wish you could point to -one single example which would assist me in seeing the soundness of -the hopes which you so heartily raise in me. We are both acquainted -with public schools; do you think, for instance, that in respect of -these institutions anything may be done by means of honesty and good -and new ideas to abolish the tenacious and antiquated customs now -extant? In this quarter, it seems to me, the battering-rams of an -attacking party will have to meet with no solid wall, but with the -most fatal of stolid and slippery principles. The leader of the -assault has no visible and tangible opponent to crush, but rather a -creature in disguise that can transform itself into a hundred -different shapes and, in each of these, slip out of his grasp, only in -order to reappear and to confound its enemy by cowardly surrenders and -feigned retreats. It was precisely the public schools which drove me -into despair and solitude, simply because I feel that if the struggle -here leads to victory all other educational institutions must give in; -but that, if the reformer be forced to abandon his cause here, he may -as well give up all hope in regard to every other scholastic question. -Therefore, dear master, enlighten me concerning the public schools; -what can we hope for in the way of their abolition or reform?" - -"I also hold the question of public schools to be as important as you -do," the philosopher replied. "All other educational institutions must -fix their aims in accordance with those of the public school system; -whatever errors of judgment it may suffer from, they suffer from also, -and if it were ever purified and rejuvenated, they would be purified -and rejuvenated too. The universities can no longer lay claim to this -importance as centres of influence, seeing that, as they now stand, -they are at least, in one important aspect, only a kind of annex to -the public school system, as I shall shortly point out to you. For the -moment, let us consider, together, what to my mind constitutes the -very hopeful struggle of the two possibilities: _either_ that the -motley and evasive spirit of public schools which has hitherto been -fostered, will completely vanish, or that it will have to be -completely purified and rejuvenated. And in order that I may not shock -you with general propositions, let us first try to recall one of those -public school experiences which we have all had, and from which we -have all suffered. Under severe examination what, as a matter of fact, -is the present _system of teaching German_ in public schools? - -"I shall first of all tell you what it should be. Everybody speaks and -writes German as thoroughly badly as it is just possible to do so in -an age of newspaper German: that is why the growing youth who happens -to be both noble and gifted has to be taken by force and put under the -glass shade of good taste and of severe linguistic discipline. If this -is not possible, I would prefer in future that Latin be spoken; for I -am ashamed of a language so bungled and vitiated. - -"What would be the duty of a higher educational institution, in this -respect, if not this--namely, with authority and dignified severity to -put youths, neglected, as far as their own language is concerned, on -the right path, and to cry to them: 'Take your own language seriously! -He who does not regard this matter as a sacred duty does not possess -even the germ of a higher culture. From your attitude in this matter, -from your treatment of your mother-tongue, we can judge how highly or -how lowly you esteem art, and to what extent you are related to it. If -you notice no physical loathing in yourselves when you meet with -certain words and tricks of speech in our journalistic jargon, cease -from striving after culture; for here in your immediate vicinity, at -every moment of your life, while you are either speaking or writing, -you have a touchstone for testing how difficult, how stupendous, the -task of the cultured man is, and how very improbable it must be that -many of you will ever attain to culture.' - -"In accordance with the spirit of this address, the teacher of German -at a public school would be forced to call his pupil's attention to -thousands of details, and with the absolute certainty of good taste, -to forbid their using such words and expressions, for instance, as: -'_beanspruchen_,' '_vereinnahmen_,' '_einer Sache Rechnung tragen_,' -'_die Initiative ergreifen_,' '_selbstverständlich_,'[3] etc., _cum -tædio in infinitum_. The same teacher would also have to take our -classical authors and show, line for line, how carefully and with what -precision every expression has to be chosen when a writer has the -correct feeling in his heart and has before his eyes a perfect -conception of all he is writing. He would necessarily urge his pupils, -time and again, to express the same thought ever more happily; nor -would he have to abate in rigour until the less gifted in his class -had contracted an unholy fear of their language, and the others had -developed great enthusiasm for it. - -"Here then is a task for so-called 'formal' education[4] [the -education tending to develop the mental faculties, as opposed to -'material' education,[5] which is intended to deal only with the -acquisition of facts, _e.g._ history, mathematics, etc.], and one of -the utmost value: but what do we find in the public school--that is to -say, in the head-quarters of formal education? He who understands how -to apply what he has heard here will also know what to think of the -modern public school as a so-called educational institution. He will -discover, for instance, that the public school, according to its -fundamental principles, does not educate for the purposes of culture, -but for the purposes of scholarship; and, further, that of late it -seems to have adopted a course which indicates rather that it has even -discarded scholarship in favour of journalism as the object of its -exertions. This can be clearly seen from the way in which German is -taught. - -"Instead of that purely practical method of instruction by which the -teacher accustoms his pupils to severe self-discipline in their own -language, we find everywhere the rudiments of a historico-scholastic -method of teaching the mother-tongue: that is to say, people deal with -it as if it were a dead language and as if the present and future were -under no obligations to it whatsoever. The historical method has -become so universal in our time, that even the living body of the -language is sacrificed for the sake of anatomical study. But this is -precisely where culture begins--namely, in understanding how to treat -the quick as something vital, and it is here too that the mission of -the cultured teacher begins: in suppressing the urgent claims of -'historical interests' wherever it is above all necessary to _do_ -properly and not merely to _know_ properly. Our mother-tongue, -however, is a domain in which the pupil must learn how to _do_ -properly, and to this practical end, alone, the teaching of German is -essential in our scholastic establishments. The historical method may -certainly be a considerably easier and more comfortable one for the -teacher; it also seems to be compatible with a much lower grade of -ability and, in general, with a smaller display of energy and will on -his part. But we shall find that this observation holds good in every -department of pedagogic life: the simpler and more comfortable method -always masquerades in the disguise of grand pretensions and stately -titles; the really practical side, the _doing_, which should belong to -culture and which, at bottom, is the more difficult side, meets only -with disfavour and contempt. That is why the honest man must make -himself and others quite clear concerning this _quid pro quo_. - -"Now, apart from these learned incentives to a study of the language, -what is there besides which the German teacher is wont to offer? How -does he reconcile the spirit of his school with the spirit of the -_few_ that Germany can claim who are really cultured,--_i.e._ with the -spirit of its classical poets and artists? This is a dark and thorny -sphere, into which one cannot even bear a light without dread; but -even here we shall conceal nothing from ourselves; for sooner or later -the whole of it will have to be reformed. In the public school, the -repulsive impress of our æsthetic journalism is stamped upon the still -unformed minds of youths. Here, too, the teacher sows the seeds of -that crude and wilful misinterpretation of the classics, which later -on disports itself as art-criticism, and which is nothing but -bumptious barbarity. Here the pupils learn to speak of our unique -_Schiller_ with the superciliousness of prigs; here they are taught to -smile at the noblest and most German of his works--at the Marquis of -Posa, at Max and Thekla--at these smiles German genius becomes -incensed and a worthier posterity will blush. - -"The last department in which the German teacher in a public school is -at all active, which is often regarded as his sphere of highest -activity, and is here and there even considered the pinnacle of public -school education, is the so-called _German composition_. Owing to the -very fact that in this department it is almost always the most gifted -pupils who display the greatest eagerness, it ought to have been made -clear how dangerously stimulating, precisely here, the task of the -teacher must be. _German composition_ makes an appeal to the -individual, and the more strongly a pupil is conscious of his various -qualities, the more personally will he do his _German composition_. -This 'personal doing' is urged on with yet an additional fillip in -some public schools by the choice of the subject, the strongest proof -of which is, in my opinion, that even in the lower classes the -non-pedagogic subject is set, by means of which the pupil is led to -give a description of his life and of his development. Now, one has -only to read the titles of the compositions set in a large number of -public schools to be convinced that probably the large majority of -pupils have to suffer their whole lives, through no fault of their -own, owing to this premature demand for personal work--for the unripe -procreation of thoughts. And how often are not all a man's subsequent -literary performances but a sad result of this pedagogic original sin -against the intellect! - -"Let us only think of what takes place at such an age in the -production of such work. It is the first individual creation; the -still undeveloped powers tend for the first time to crystallise; the -staggering sensation produced by the demand for self-reliance imparts -a seductive charm to these early performances, which is not only quite -new, but which never returns. All the daring of nature is hauled out -of its depths; all vanities--no longer constrained by mighty -barriers--are allowed for the first time to assume a literary form: -the young man, from that time forward, feels as if he had reached his -consummation as a being not only able, but actually invited, to speak -and to converse. The subject he selects obliges him either to express -his judgment upon certain poetical works, to class historical persons -together in a description of character, to discuss serious ethical -problems quite independently, or even to turn the searchlight inwards, -to throw its rays upon his own development and to make a critical -report of himself: in short, a whole world of reflection is spread out -before the astonished young man who, until then, had been almost -unconscious, and is delivered up to him to be judged. - -"Now let us try to picture the teacher's usual attitude towards these -first highly influential examples of original composition. What does -he hold to be most reprehensible in this class of work? What does he -call his pupil's attention to?--To all excess in form or thought--that -is to say, to all that which, at their age, is essentially -characteristic and individual. Their really independent traits which, -in response to this very premature excitation, can manifest themselves -only in awkwardness, crudeness, and grotesque features,--in short, -their individuality is reproved and rejected by the teacher in favour -of an unoriginal decent average. On the other hand, uniform mediocrity -gets peevish praise; for, as a rule, it is just the class of work -likely to bore the teacher thoroughly. - -"There may still be men who recognise a most absurd and most dangerous -element of the public school curriculum in the whole farce of this -German composition. Originality is demanded here: but the only shape -in which it can manifest itself is rejected, and the 'formal' -education that the system takes for granted is attained to only by a -very limited number of men who complete it at a ripe age. Here -everybody without exception is regarded as gifted for literature and -considered as capable of holding opinions concerning the most -important questions and people, whereas the one aim which proper -education should most zealously strive to achieve would be the -suppression of all ridiculous claims to independent judgment, and the -inculcation upon young men of obedience to the sceptre of genius. Here -a pompous form of diction is taught in an age when every spoken or -written word is a piece of barbarism. Now let us consider, besides, -the danger of arousing the self-complacency which is so easily -awakened in youths; let us think how their vanity must be flattered -when they see their literary reflection for the first time in the -mirror. Who, having seen all these effects at _one_ glance, could any -longer doubt whether all the faults of our public, literary, and -artistic life were not stamped upon every fresh generation by the -system we are examining: hasty and vain production, the disgraceful -manufacture of books; complete want of style; the crude, -characterless, or sadly swaggering method of expression; the loss of -every æsthetic canon; the voluptuousness of anarchy and chaos--in -short, the literary peculiarities of both our journalism and our -scholarship. - -"None but the very fewest are aware that, among many thousands, -perhaps only _one_ is justified in describing himself as literary, and -that all others who at their own risk try to be so deserve to be met -with Homeric laughter by all competent men as a reward for every -sentence they have ever had printed;--for it is truly a spectacle meet -for the gods to see a literary Hephaistos limping forward who would -pretend to help us to something. To educate men to earnest and -inexorable habits and views, in this respect, should be the highest -aim of all mental training, whereas the general _laisser aller_ of the -'fine personality' can be nothing else than the hall-mark of -barbarism. From what I have said, however, it must be clear that, at -least in the teaching of German, no thought is given to culture; -something quite different is in view,--namely, the production of the -afore-mentioned 'free personality.' And so long as German public -schools prepare the road for outrageous and irresponsible scribbling, -so long as they do not regard the immediate and practical discipline -of speaking and writing as their most holy duty, so long as they treat -the mother-tongue as if it were only a necessary evil or a dead body, -I shall not regard these institutions as belonging to real culture. - -"In regard to the language, what is surely least noticeable is any -trace of the influence of _classical examples_: that is why, on the -strength of this consideration alone, the so-called 'classical -education' which is supposed to be provided by our public school, -strikes me as something exceedingly doubtful and confused. For how -could anybody, after having cast one glance at those examples, fail to -see the great earnestness with which the Greek and the Roman regarded -and treated his language, from his youth onwards--how is it possible -to mistake one's example on a point like this one?--provided, of -course, that the classical Hellenic and Roman world really did hover -before the educational plan of our public schools as the highest and -most instructive of all morals--a fact I feel very much inclined to -doubt. The claim put forward by public schools concerning the -'classical education' they provide seems to be more an awkward evasion -than anything else; it is used whenever there is any question raised -as to the competency of the public schools to impart culture and to -educate. Classical education, indeed! It sounds so dignified! It -confounds the aggressor and staves off the assault--for who could see -to the bottom of this bewildering formula all at once? And this has -long been the customary strategy of the public school: from whichever -side the war-cry may come, it writes upon its shield--not overloaded -with honours--one of those confusing catchwords, such as: 'classical -education,' 'formal education,' 'scientific education':--three -glorious things which are, however, unhappily at loggerheads, not only -with themselves but among themselves, and are such that, if they were -compulsorily brought together, would perforce bring forth a -culture-monster. For a 'classical education' is something so unheard -of, difficult and rare, and exacts such complicated talent, that only -ingenuousness or impudence could put it forward as an attainable goal -in our public schools. The words: 'formal education' belong to that -crude kind of unphilosophical phraseology which one should do one's -utmost to get rid of; for there is no such thing as 'the opposite of -formal education.' And he who regards 'scientific education' as the -object of a public school thereby sacrifices 'classical education' and -the so-called 'formal education,' at one stroke, as the scientific man -and the cultured man belong to two different spheres which, though -coming together at times in the same individual, are never reconciled. - -"If we compare all three of these would-be aims of the public school -with the actual facts to be observed in the present method of teaching -German, we see immediately what they really amount to in -practice,--that is to say, only to subterfuges for use in the fight -and struggle for existence and, often enough, mere means wherewith to -bewilder an opponent. For we are unable to detect any single feature -in this teaching of German which in any way recalls the example of -classical antiquity and its glorious methods of training in languages. -'Formal education,' however, which is supposed to be achieved by this -method of teaching German, has been shown to be wholly at the pleasure -of the 'free personality,' which is as good as saying that it is -barbarism and anarchy. And as for the preparation in science, which is -one of the consequences of this teaching, our Germanists will have to -determine, in all justice, how little these learned beginnings in -public schools have contributed to the splendour of their sciences, -and how much the personality of individual university professors has -done so.--Put briefly: the public school has hitherto neglected its -most important and most urgent duty towards the very beginning of all -real culture, which is the mother-tongue; but in so doing it has -lacked the natural, fertile soil for all further efforts at culture. -For only by means of stern, artistic, and careful discipline and -habit, in a language, can the correct feeling for the greatness of our -classical writers be strengthened. Up to the present their recognition -by the public schools has been owing almost solely to the doubtful -æsthetic hobbies of a few teachers or to the massive effects of -certain of their tragedies and novels. But everybody should, himself, -be aware of the difficulties of the language: he should have learnt -them from experience: after long seeking and struggling he must reach -the path our great poets trod in order to be able to realise how -lightly and beautifully they trod it, and how stiffly and swaggeringly -the others follow at their heels. - -"Only by means of such discipline can the young man acquire that -physical loathing for the beloved and much-admired 'elegance' of style -of our newspaper manufacturers and novelists, and for the 'ornate -style' of our literary men; by it alone is he irrevocably elevated at -a stroke above a whole host of absurd questions and scruples, such, -for instance, as whether Auerbach and Gutzkow are really poets, for -his disgust at both will be so great that he will be unable to read -them any longer, and thus the problem will be solved for him. Let no -one imagine that it is an easy matter to develop this feeling to the -extent necessary in order to have this physical loathing; but let no -one hope to reach sound æsthetic judgments along any other road than -the thorny one of language, and by this I do not mean philological -research, but self-discipline in one's mother-tongue. - -"Everybody who is in earnest in this matter will have the same sort of -experience as the recruit in the army who is compelled to learn -walking after having walked almost all his life as a dilettante or -empiricist. It is a hard time: one almost fears that the tendons are -going to snap and one ceases to hope that the artificial and -consciously acquired movements and positions of the feet will ever be -carried out with ease and comfort. It is painful to see how awkwardly -and heavily one foot is set before the other, and one dreads that one -may not only be unable to learn the new way of walking, but that one -will forget how to walk at all. Then it suddenly become noticeable -that a new habit and a second nature have been born of the practised -movements, and that the assurance and strength of the old manner of -walking returns with a little more grace: at this point one begins to -realise how difficult walking is, and one feels in a position to laugh -at the untrained empiricist or the elegant dilettante. Our 'elegant' -writers, as their style shows, have never learnt 'walking' in this -sense, and in our public schools, as our other writers show, no one -learns walking either. Culture begins, however, with the correct -movement of the language: and once it has properly begun, it begets -that physical sensation in the presence of 'elegant' writers which is -known by the name of 'loathing.' - -"We recognise the fatal consequences of our present public schools, in -that they are unable to inculcate severe and genuine culture, which -should consist above all in obedience and habituation; and that, at -their best, they much more often achieve a result by stimulating and -kindling scientific tendencies, is shown by the hand which is so -frequently seen uniting scholarship and barbarous taste, science and -journalism. In a very large majority of cases to-day we can observe -how sadly our scholars fall short of the standard of culture which the -efforts of Goethe, Schiller, Lessing, and Winckelmann established; and -this falling short shows itself precisely in the egregious errors -which the men we speak of are exposed to, equally among literary -historians--whether Gervinus or Julian Schmidt--as in any other -company; everywhere, indeed, where men and women converse. It shows -itself most frequently and painfully, however, in pedagogic spheres, -in the literature of public schools. It can be proved that the only -value that these men have in a real educational establishment has not -been mentioned, much less generally recognised for half a century: -their value as preparatory leaders and mystogogues of classical -culture, guided by whose hands alone can the correct road leading to -antiquity be found. - -"Every so-called classical education can have but one natural -starting-point--an artistic, earnest, and exact familiarity with the -use of the mother-tongue: this, together with the secret of form, -however, one can seldom attain to of one's own accord, almost -everybody requires those great leaders and tutors and must place -himself in their hands. There is, however, no such thing as a -classical education that could grow without this inferred love of -form. Here, where the power of discerning form and barbarity gradually -awakens, there appear the pinions which bear one to the only real home -of culture--ancient Greece. If with the solitary help of those pinions -we sought to reach those far-distant and diamond-studded walls -encircling the stronghold of Hellenism, we should certainly not get -very far; once more, therefore, we need the same leaders and tutors, -our German classical writers, that we may be borne up, too, by the -wing-strokes of their past endeavours--to the land of yearning, to -Greece. - -"Not a suspicion of this possible relationship between our classics -and classical education seems to have pierced the antique walls of -public schools. Philologists seem much more eagerly engaged in -introducing Homer and Sophocles to the young souls of their pupils, in -their own style, calling the result simply by the unchallenged -euphemism: 'classical education.' Let every one's own experience tell -him what he had of Homer and Sophocles at the hands of such eager -teachers. It is in this department that the greatest number of deepest -deceptions occur, and whence misunderstandings are inadvertently -spread. In German public schools I have never yet found a trace of -what might really be called 'classical education,' and there is -nothing surprising in this when one thinks of the way in which these -institutions have emancipated themselves from German classical writers -and the discipline of the German language. Nobody reaches antiquity by -means of a leap into the dark, and yet the whole method of treating -ancient writers in schools, the plain commentating and paraphrasing of -our philological teachers, amounts to nothing more than a leap into -the dark. - -"The feeling for classical Hellenism is, as a matter of fact, such an -exceptional outcome of the most energetic fight for culture and -artistic talent that the public school could only have professed to -awaken this feeling owing to a very crude misunderstanding. In what -age? In an age which is led about blindly by the most sensational -desires of the day, and which is not aware of the fact that, once that -feeling for Hellenism is roused, it immediately becomes aggressive and -must express itself by indulging in an incessant war with the -so-called culture of the present. For the public school boy of to-day, -the Hellenes as Hellenes are dead: yes, he gets some enjoyment out of -Homer, but a novel by Spielhagen interests him much more: yes, he -swallows Greek tragedy and comedy with a certain relish, but a -thoroughly modern drama, like Freitag's 'Journalists,' moves him in -quite another fashion. In regard to all ancient authors he is rather -inclined to speak after the manner of the æsthete, Hermann Grimm, who, -on one occasion, at the end of a tortuous essay on the Venus of Milo, -asks himself: 'What does this goddess's form mean to me? Of what use -are the thoughts she suggests to me? Orestes and OEdipus, Iphigenia -and Antigone, what have they in common with my heart?'--No, my dear -public school boy, the Venus of Milo does not concern you in any way, -and concerns your teacher just as little--and that is the misfortune, -that is the secret of the modern public school. Who will conduct you -to the land of culture, if your leaders are blind and assume the -position of seers notwithstanding? Which of you will ever attain to a -true feeling for the sacred seriousness of art, if you are -systematically spoiled, and taught to stutter independently instead of -being taught to speak; to æstheticise on your own account, when you -ought to be taught to approach works of art almost piously; to -philosophise without assistance, while you ought to be compelled to -_listen_ to great thinkers. All this with the result that you remain -eternally at a distance from antiquity and become the servants of the -day. - -"At all events, the most wholesome feature of our modern institutions -is to be found in the earnestness with which the Latin and Greek -languages are studied over a long course of years. In this way boys -learn to respect a grammar, lexicons, and a language that conforms to -fixed rules; in this department of public school work there is an -exact knowledge of what constitutes a fault, and no one is troubled -with any thought of justifying himself every minute by appealing (as -in the case of modern German) to various grammatical and -orthographical vagaries and vicious forms. If only this respect for -language did not hang in the air so, like a theoretical burden which -one is pleased to throw off the moment one turns to one's -mother-tongue! More often than not, the classical master makes pretty -short work of the mother-tongue; from the outset he treats it as a -department of knowledge in which one is allowed that indolent ease -with which the German treats everything that belongs to his native -soil. The splendid practice afforded by translating from one language -into another, which so improves and fertilises one's artistic feeling -for one's own tongue, is, in the case of German, never conducted with -that fitting categorical strictness and dignity which would be above -all necessary in dealing with an undisciplined language. Of late, -exercises of this kind have tended to decrease ever more and more: -people are satisfied to _know_ the foreign classical tongues, they -would scorn being able to _apply_ them. - -"Here one gets another glimpse of the scholarly tendency of public -schools: a phenomenon which throws much light upon the object which -once animated them,--that is to say, the serious desire to cultivate -the pupil. This belonged to the time of our great poets, those few -really cultured Germans,--the time when the magnificent Friedrich -August Wolf directed the new stream of classical thought, introduced -from Greece and Rome by those men, into the heart of the public -schools. Thanks to his bold start, a new order of public schools was -established, which thenceforward was not to be merely a nursery for -science, but, above all, the actual consecrated home of all higher and -nobler culture. - -"Of the many necessary measures which this change called into being, -some of the most important have been transferred with lasting success -to the modern regulations of public schools: the most important of -all, however, did not succeed--the one demanding that the teacher, -also, should be consecrated to the new spirit, so that the aim of the -public school has meanwhile considerably departed from the original -plan laid down by Wolf, which was the cultivation of the pupil. The -old estimate of scholarship and scholarly culture, as an absolute, -which Wolf overcame, seems after a slow and spiritless struggle rather -to have taken the place of the culture-principle of more recent -introduction, and now claims its former exclusive rights, though not -with the same frankness, but disguised and with features veiled. And -the reason why it was impossible to make public schools fall in with -the magnificent plan of classical culture lay in the un-German, almost -foreign or cosmopolitan nature of these efforts in the cause of -education: in the belief that it was possible to remove the native -soil from under a man's feet and that he should still remain standing; -in the illusion that people can spring direct, without bridges, into -the strange Hellenic world, by abjuring German and the German mind in -general. - -"Of course one must know how to trace this Germanic spirit to its lair -beneath its many modern dressings, or even beneath heaps of ruins; one -must love it so that one is not ashamed of it in its stunted form, and -one must above all be on one's guard against confounding it with what -now disports itself proudly as 'Up-to-date German culture.' The German -spirit is very far from being on friendly times with this up-to-date -culture: and precisely in those spheres where the latter complains of -a lack of culture the real German spirit has survived, though perhaps -not always with a graceful, but more often an ungraceful, exterior. On -the other hand, that which now grandiloquently assumes the title of -'German culture' is a sort of cosmopolitan aggregate, which bears the -same relation to the German spirit as Journalism does to Schiller or -Meyerbeer to Beethoven: here the strongest influence at work is the -fundamentally and thoroughly un-German civilisation of France, which -is aped neither with talent nor with taste, and the imitation of which -gives the society, the press, the art, and the literary style of -Germany their pharisaical character. Naturally the copy nowhere -produces the really artistic effect which the original, grown out of -the heart of Roman civilisation, is able to produce almost to this day -in France. Let any one who wishes to see the full force of this -contrast compare our most noted novelists with the less noted ones of -France or Italy: he will recognise in both the same doubtful -tendencies and aims, as also the same still more doubtful means, but -in France he will find them coupled with artistic earnestness, at -least with grammatical purity, and often with beauty, while in their -every feature he will recognise the echo of a corresponding social -culture. In Germany, on the other hand, they will strike him as -unoriginal, flabby, filled with dressing-gown thoughts and -expressions, unpleasantly spread out, and therewithal possessing no -background of social form. At the most, owing to their scholarly -mannerisms and display of knowledge, he will be reminded of the fact -that in Latin countries it is the artistically-trained man, and that -in Germany it is the abortive scholar, who becomes a journalist. With -this would-be German and thoroughly unoriginal culture, the German can -nowhere reckon upon victory: the Frenchman and the Italian will always -get the better of him in this respect, while, in regard to the clever -imitation of a foreign culture, the Russian, above all, will always be -his superior. - -"We are therefore all the more anxious to hold fast to that German -spirit which revealed itself in the German Reformation, and in German -music, and which has shown its enduring and genuine strength in the -enormous courage and severity of German philosophy and in the loyalty -of the German soldier, which has been tested quite recently. From it -we expect a victory over that 'up-to-date' pseudo-culture which is now -the fashion. What we should hope for the future is that schools may -draw the real school of culture into this struggle, and kindle the -flame of enthusiasm in the younger generation, more particularly in -public schools, for that which is truly German; and in this way -so-called classical education will resume its natural place and -recover its one possible starting-point. - -"A thorough reformation and purification of the public school can only -be the outcome of a profound and powerful reformation and purification -of the German spirit. It is a very complex and difficult task to find -the border-line which joins the heart of the Germanic spirit with the -genius of Greece. Not, however, before the noblest needs of genuine -German genius snatch at the hand of this genius of Greece as at a firm -post in the torrent of barbarity, not before a devouring yearning for -this genius of Greece takes possession of German genius, and not -before that view of the Greek home, on which Schiller and Goethe, -after enormous exertions, were able to feast their eyes, has become -the Mecca of the best and most gifted men, will the aim of classical -education in public schools acquire any definition; and they at least -will not be to blame who teach ever so little science and learning in -public schools, in order to keep a definite and at the same time ideal -aim in their eyes, and to rescue their pupils from that glistening -phantom which now allows itself to be called 'culture' and -'education.' This is the sad plight of the public school of to-day: -the narrowest views remain in a certain measure right, because no one -seems able to reach or, at least, to indicate the spot where all these -views culminate in error." - -"No one?" the philosopher's pupil inquired with a slight quaver in his -voice; and both men were silent. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[3] It is not practicable to translate these German solecisms by -similar instances of English solecisms. The reader who is interested -in the subject will find plenty of material in a book like the Oxford -_King's English_. - -[4] German: _Formelle Bildung._ - -[5] German: _Materielle Bildung._ - - - - -THIRD LECTURE. - -(_Delivered on the 27th of February 1872._) - - -Ladies and Gentlemen,--At the close of my last lecture, the -conversation to which I was a listener, and the outlines of which, as -I clearly recollect them, I am now trying to lay before you, was -interrupted by a long and solemn pause. Both the philosopher and his -companion sat silent, sunk in deep dejection: the peculiarly critical -state of that important educational institution, the German public -school, lay upon their souls like a heavy burden, which one single, -well-meaning individual is not strong enough to remove, and the -multitude, though strong, not well meaning enough. - -Our solitary thinkers were perturbed by two facts: by clearly -perceiving on the one hand that what might rightly be called -"classical education" was now only a far-off ideal, a castle in the -air, which could not possibly be built as a reality on the foundations -of our present educational system, and that, on the other hand, what -was now, with customary and unopposed euphemism, pointed to as -"classical education" could only claim the value of a pretentious -illusion, the best effect of which was that the expression "classical -education" still lived on and had not yet lost its pathetic sound. -These two worthy men saw clearly, by the system of instruction in -vogue, that the time was not yet ripe for a higher culture, a culture -founded upon that of the ancients: the neglected state of linguistic -instruction; the forcing of students into learned historical paths, -instead of giving them a practical training; the connection of certain -practices, encouraged in the public schools, with the objectionable -spirit of our journalistic publicity--all these easily perceptible -phenomena of the teaching of German led to the painful certainty that -the most beneficial of those forces which have come down to us from -classical antiquity are not yet known in our public schools: forces -which would train students for the struggle against the barbarism of -the present age, and which will perhaps once more transform the public -schools into the arsenals and workshops of this struggle. - -On the other hand, it would seem in the meantime as if the spirit of -antiquity, in its fundamental principles, had already been driven away -from the portals of the public schools, and as if here also the gates -were thrown open as widely as possible to the be-flattered and -pampered type of our present self-styled "German culture." And if the -solitary talkers caught a glimpse of a single ray of hope, it was that -things would have to become still worse, that what was as yet divined -only by the few would soon be clearly perceived by the many, and that -then the time for honest and resolute men for the earnest -consideration of the scope of the education of the masses would not be -far distant. - -After a few minutes' silent reflection, the philosopher's companion -turned to him and said: "You used to hold out hopes to me, but now you -have done more: you have widened my intelligence, and with it my -strength and courage: now indeed can I look on the field of battle -with more hardihood, now indeed do I repent of my too hasty flight. We -want nothing for ourselves, and it should be nothing to us how many -individuals may fall in this battle, or whether we ourselves may be -among the first. Just because we take this matter so seriously, we -should not take our own poor selves so seriously: at the very moment -we are falling some one else will grasp the banner of our faith. I -will not even consider whether I am strong enough for such a fight, -whether I can offer sufficient resistance; it may even be an -honourable death to fall to the accompaniment of the mocking laughter -of such enemies, whose seriousness has frequently seemed to us to be -something ridiculous. When I think how my contemporaries prepared -themselves for the highest posts in the scholastic profession, as I -myself have done, then I know how we often laughed at the exact -contrary, and grew serious over something quite different----" - -"Now, my friend," interrupted the philosopher, laughingly, "you speak -as one who would fain dive into the water without being able to swim, -and who fears something even more than the mere drowning; _not_ being -drowned, but laughed at. But being laughed at should be the very last -thing for us to dread; for we are in a sphere where there are too many -truths to tell, too many formidable, painful, unpardonable truths, for -us to escape hatred, and only fury here and there will give rise to -some sort of embarrassed laughter. Just think of the innumerable crowd -of teachers, who, in all good faith, have assimilated the system of -education which has prevailed up to the present, that they may -cheerfully and without over-much deliberation carry it further on. -What do you think it will seem like to these men when they hear of -projects from which they are excluded _beneficio naturæ_; of commands -which their mediocre abilities are totally unable to carry out; of -hopes which find no echo in them; of battles the war-cries of which -they do not understand, and in the fighting of which they can take -part only as dull and obtuse rank and file? But, without exaggeration, -that must necessarily be the position of practically all the teachers -in our higher educational establishments: and indeed we cannot wonder -at this when we consider how such a teacher originates, how he -_becomes_ a teacher of such high status. Such a large number of higher -educational establishments are now to be found everywhere that far -more teachers will continue to be required for them than the nature of -even a highly-gifted people can produce; and thus an inordinate stream -of undesirables flows into these institutions, who, however, by their -preponderating numbers and their instinct of 'similis simile gaudet' -gradually come to determine the nature of these institutions. There -may be a few people, hopelessly unfamiliar with pedagogical matters, -who believe that our present profusion of public schools and teachers, -which is manifestly out of all proportion, can be changed into a real -profusion, an _ubertas ingenii_, merely by a few rules and -regulations, and without any reduction in the number of these -institutions. But we may surely be unanimous in recognising that by -the very nature of things only an exceedingly small number of people -are destined for a true course of education, and that a much smaller -number of higher educational establishments would suffice for their -further development, but that, in view of the present large numbers of -educational institutions, those for whom in general such institutions -ought only to be established must feel themselves to be the least -facilitated in their progress. - -"The same holds good in regard to teachers. It is precisely the best -teachers--those who, generally speaking, judged by a high standard, -are worthy of this honourable name--who are now perhaps the least -fitted, in view of the present standing of our public schools, for the -education of these unselected youths, huddled together in a confused -heap; but who must rather, to a certain extent, keep hidden from them -the best they could give: and, on the other hand, by far the larger -number of these teachers feel themselves quite at home in these -institutions, as their moderate abilities stand in a kind of -harmonious relationship to the dullness of their pupils. It is from -this majority that we hear the ever-resounding call for the -establishment of new public schools and higher educational -institutions: we are living in an age which, by ringing the changes on -its deafening and continual cry, would certainly give one the -impression that there was an unprecedented thirst for culture which -eagerly sought to be quenched. But it is just at this point that one -should learn to hear aright: it is here, without being disconcerted by -the thundering noise of the education-mongers, that we must confront -those who talk so tirelessly about the educational necessities of -their time. Then we should meet with a strange disillusionment, one -which we, my good friend, have often met with: those blatant heralds -of educational needs, when examined at close quarters, are suddenly -seen to be transformed into zealous, yea, fanatical opponents of true -culture, _i.e._ all those who hold fast to the aristocratic nature of -the mind; for, at bottom, they regard as their goal the emancipation -of the masses from the mastery of the great few; they seek to -overthrow the most sacred hierarchy in the kingdom of the -intellect--the servitude of the masses, their submissive obedience, -their instinct of loyalty to the rule of genius. - -"I have long accustomed myself to look with caution upon those who are -ardent in the cause of the so-called 'education of the people' in the -common meaning of the phrase; since for the most part they desire for -themselves, consciously or unconsciously, absolutely unlimited -freedom, which must inevitably degenerate into something resembling -the saturnalia of barbaric times, and which the sacred hierarchy of -nature will never grant them. They were born to serve and to obey; and -every moment in which their limping or crawling or broken-winded -thoughts are at work shows us clearly out of which clay nature moulded -them, and what trade mark she branded thereon. The education of the -masses cannot, therefore, be our aim; but rather the education of a -few picked men for great and lasting works. We well know that a just -posterity judges the collective intellectual state of a time only by -those few great and lonely figures of the period, and gives its -decision in accordance with the manner in which they are recognised, -encouraged, and honoured, or, on the other hand, in which they are -snubbed, elbowed aside, and kept down. What is called the 'education -of the masses' cannot be accomplished except with difficulty; and even -if a system of universal compulsory education be applied, they can -only be reached outwardly: those individual lower levels where, -generally speaking, the masses come into contact with culture, where -the people nourishes its religious instinct, where it poetises its -mythological images, where it keeps up its faith in its customs, -privileges, native soil, and language--all these levels can scarcely -be reached by direct means, and in any case only by violent -demolition. And, in serious matters of this kind, to hasten forward -the progress of the education of the people means simply the -postponement of this violent demolition, and the maintenance of that -wholesome unconsciousness, that sound sleep, of the people, without -which counter-action and remedy no culture, with the exhausting strain -and excitement of its own actions, can make any headway. - -"We know, however, what the aspiration is of those who would disturb -the healthy slumber of the people, and continually call out to them: -'Keep your eyes open! Be sensible! Be wise!' we know the aim of those -who profess to satisfy excessive educational requirements by means of -an extraordinary increase in the number of educational institutions -and the conceited tribe of teachers originated thereby. These very -people, using these very means, are fighting against the natural -hierarchy in the realm of the intellect, and destroying the roots of -all those noble and sublime plastic forces which have their material -origin in the unconsciousness of the people, and which fittingly -terminate in the procreation of genius and its due guidance and proper -training. It is only in the simile of the mother that we can grasp the -meaning and the responsibility of the true education of the people in -respect to genius: its real origin is not to be found in such -education; it has, so to speak, only a metaphysical source, a -metaphysical home. But for the genius to make his appearance; for him -to emerge from among the people; to portray the reflected picture, as -it were, the dazzling brilliancy of the peculiar colours of this -people; to depict the noble destiny of a people in the similitude of -an individual in a work which will last for all time, thereby making -his nation itself eternal, and redeeming it from the ever-shifting -element of transient things: all this is possible for the genius only -when he has been brought up and come to maturity in the tender care of -the culture of a people; whilst, on the other hand, without this -sheltering home, the genius will not, generally speaking, be able to -rise to the height of his eternal flight, but will at an early moment, -like a stranger weather-driven upon a bleak, snow-covered desert, -slink away from the inhospitable land." - -"You astonish me with such a metaphysics of genius," said the -teacher's companion, "and I have only a hazy conception of the -accuracy of your similitude. On the other hand, I fully understand -what you have said about the surplus of public schools and the -corresponding surplus of higher grade teachers; and in this regard I -myself have collected some information which assures me that the -educational tendency of the public school _must_ right itself by this -very surplus of teachers who have really nothing at all to do with -education, and who are called into existence and pursue this path -solely because there is a demand for them. Every man who, in an -unexpected moment of enlightenment, has convinced himself of the -singularity and inaccessibility of Hellenic antiquity, and has warded -off this conviction after an exhausting struggle--every such man knows -that the door leading to this enlightenment will never remain open to -all comers; and he deems it absurd, yea disgraceful, to use the Greeks -as he would any other tool he employs when following his profession or -earning his living, shamelessly fumbling with coarse hands amidst the -relics of these holy men. This brazen and vulgar feeling is, however, -most common in the profession from which the largest numbers of -teachers for the public schools are drawn, the philological -profession, wherefore the reproduction and continuation of such a -feeling in the public school will not surprise us. - -"Just look at the younger generation of philologists: how seldom we -see in them that humble feeling that we, when compared with such a -world as it was, have no right to exist at all: how coolly and -fearlessly, as compared with us, did that young brood build its -miserable nests in the midst of the magnificent temples! A powerful -voice from every nook and cranny should ring in the ears of those who, -from the day they begin their connection with the university, roam at -will with such self-complacency and shamelessness among the -awe-inspiring relics of that noble civilisation: 'Hence, ye -uninitiated, who will never be initiated; fly away in silence and -shame from these sacred chambers!' But this voice speaks in vain; for -one must to some extent be a Greek to understand a Greek curse of -excommunication. But these people I am speaking of are so barbaric -that they dispose of these relics to suit themselves: all their modern -conveniences and fancies are brought with them and concealed among -those ancient pillars and tombstones, and it gives rise to great -rejoicing when somebody finds, among the dust and cobwebs of -antiquity, something that he himself had slyly hidden there not so -very long before. One of them makes verses and takes care to consult -Hesychius' Lexicon. Something there immediately assures him that he is -destined to be an imitator of Æschylus, and leads him to believe, -indeed, that he 'has something in common with' Æschylus: the miserable -poetaster! Yet another peers with the suspicious eye of a policeman -into every contradiction, even into the shadow of every -contradiction, of which Homer was guilty: he fritters away his life in -tearing Homeric rags to tatters and sewing them together again, rags -that he himself was the first to filch from the poet's kingly robe. A -third feels ill at ease when examining all the mysterious and -orgiastic sides of antiquity: he makes up his mind once and for all to -let the enlightened Apollo alone pass without dispute, and to see in -the Athenian a gay and intelligent but nevertheless somewhat immoral -Apollonian. What a deep breath he draws when he succeeds in raising -yet another dark corner of antiquity to the level of his own -intelligence!--when, for example, he discovers in Pythagoras a -colleague who is as enthusiastic as himself in arguing about politics. -Another racks his brains as to why OEdipus was condemned by fate to -perform such abominable deeds--killing his father, marrying his -mother. Where lies the blame! Where the poetic justice! Suddenly it -occurs to him: OEdipus was a passionate fellow, lacking all Christian -gentleness--he even fell into an unbecoming rage when Tiresias called -him a monster and the curse of the whole country. Be humble and meek! -was what Sophocles tried to teach, otherwise you will have to marry -your mothers and kill your fathers! Others, again, pass their lives in -counting the number of verses written by Greek and Roman poets, and -are delighted with the proportions 7:13 = 14:26. Finally, one of them -brings forward his solution of a question, such as the Homeric poems -considered from the standpoint of prepositions, and thinks he has -drawn the truth from the bottom of the well with +ana+ and +kata+. All -of them, however, with the most widely separated aims in view, dig and -burrow in Greek soil with a restlessness and a blundering awkwardness -that must surely be painful to a true friend of antiquity: and thus it -comes to pass that I should like to take by the hand every talented or -talentless man who feels a certain professional inclination urging him -on to the study of antiquity, and harangue him as follows: 'Young sir, -do you know what perils threaten you, with your little stock of school -learning, before you become a man in the full sense of the word? Have -you heard that, according to Aristotle, it is by no means a tragic -death to be slain by a statue? Does that surprise you? Know, then, -that for centuries philologists have been trying, with ever-failing -strength, to re-erect the fallen statue of Greek antiquity, but -without success; for it is a colossus around which single individual -men crawl like pygmies. The leverage of the united representatives of -modern culture is utilised for the purpose; but it invariably happens -that the huge column is scarcely more than lifted from the ground when -it falls down again, crushing beneath its weight the luckless wights -under it. That, however, may be tolerated, for every being must perish -by some means or other; but who is there to guarantee that during all -these attempts the statue itself will not break in pieces! The -philologists are being crushed by the Greeks--perhaps we can put up -with this--but antiquity itself threatens to be crushed by these -philologists! Think that over, you easy-going young man; and turn -back, lest you too should not be an iconoclast!'" - -"Indeed," said the philosopher, laughing, "there are many philologists -who have turned back as you so much desire, and I notice a great -contrast with my own youthful experience. Consciously or -unconsciously, large numbers of them have concluded that it is -hopeless and useless for them to come into direct contact with -classical antiquity, hence they are inclined to look upon this study -as barren, superseded, out-of-date. This herd has turned with much -greater zest to the science of language: here in this wide expanse of -virgin soil, where even the most mediocre gifts can be turned to -account, and where a kind of insipidity and dullness is even looked -upon as decided talent, with the novelty and uncertainty of methods -and the constant danger of making fantastic mistakes--here, where dull -regimental routine and discipline are desiderata--here the newcomer is -no longer frightened by the majestic and warning voice that rises from -the ruins of antiquity: here every one is welcomed with open arms, -including even him who never arrived at any uncommon impression or -noteworthy thought after a perusal of Sophocles and Aristophanes, with -the result that they end in an etymological tangle, or are seduced -into collecting the fragments of out-of-the-way dialects--and their -time is spent in associating and dissociating, collecting and -scattering, and running hither and thither consulting books. And such -a usefully employed philologist would now fain be a teacher! He now -undertakes to teach the youth of the public schools something about -the ancient writers, although he himself has read them without any -particular impression, much less with insight! What a dilemma! -Antiquity has said nothing to him, consequently he has nothing to say -about antiquity. A sudden thought strikes him: why is he a skilled -philologist at all! Why did these authors write Latin and Greek! And -with a light heart he immediately begins to etymologise with Homer, -calling Lithuanian or Ecclesiastical Slavonic, or, above all, the -sacred Sanskrit, to his assistance: as if Greek lessons were merely -the excuse for a general introduction to the study of languages, and -as if Homer were lacking in only one respect, namely, not being -written in pre-Indogermanic. Whoever is acquainted with our present -public schools well knows what a wide gulf separates their teachers -from classicism, and how, from a feeling of this want, comparative -philology and allied professions have increased their numbers to such -an unheard-of degree." - -"What I mean is," said the other, "it would depend upon whether a -teacher of classical culture did _not_ confuse his Greeks and Romans -with the other peoples, the barbarians, whether he could _never_ put -Greek and Latin _on a level with_ other languages: so far as his -classicalism is concerned, it is a matter of indifference whether the -framework of these languages concurs with or is in any way related to -the other languages: such a concurrence does not interest him at all; -his real concern is with _what is not common to both_, with what shows -him that those two peoples were not barbarians as compared with the -others--in so far, of course, as he is a true teacher of culture and -models himself after the majestic patterns of the classics." - -"I may be wrong," said the philosopher, "but I suspect that, owing to -the way in which Latin and Greek are now taught in schools, the -accurate grasp of these languages, the ability to speak and write them -with ease, is lost, and that is something in which my own generation -distinguished itself--a generation, indeed, whose few survivers have -by this time grown old; whilst, on the other hand, the present -teachers seem to impress their pupils with the genetic and historical -importance of the subject to such an extent that, at best, their -scholars ultimately turn into little Sanskritists, etymological -spitfires, or reckless conjecturers; but not one of them can read his -Plato or Tacitus with pleasure, as we old folk can. The public schools -may still be seats of learning: not, however of _the_ learning which, -as it were, is only the natural and involuntary auxiliary of a culture -that is directed towards the noblest ends; but rather of that culture -which might be compared to the hypertrophical swelling of an unhealthy -body. The public schools are certainly the seats of this obesity, if, -indeed, they have not degenerated into the abodes of that elegant -barbarism which is boasted of as being 'German culture of the -present!'" - -"But," asked the other, "what is to become of that large body of -teachers who have not been endowed with a true gift for culture, and -who set up as teachers merely to gain a livelihood from the -profession, because there is a demand for them, because a superfluity -of schools brings with it a superfluity of teachers? Where shall they -go when antiquity peremptorily orders them to withdraw? Must they not -be sacrificed to those powers of the present who, day after day, call -out to them from the never-ending columns of the press 'We are -culture! We are education! We are at the zenith! We are the apexes of -the pyramids! We are the aims of universal history!'--when they hear -the seductive promises, when the shameful signs of non-culture, the -plebeian publicity of the so-called 'interests of culture' are -extolled for their benefit in magazines and newspapers as an entirely -new and the best possible, full-grown form of culture! Whither shall -the poor fellows fly when they feel the presentiment that these -promises are not true--where but to the most obtuse, sterile -scientificality, that here the shriek of culture may no longer be -audible to them? Pursued in this way, must they not end, like the -ostrich, by burying their heads in the sand? Is it not a real -happiness for them, buried as they are among dialects, etymologies, -and conjectures, to lead a life like that of the ants, even though -they are miles removed from true culture, if only they can close their -ears tightly and be deaf to the voice of the 'elegant' culture of the -time." - -"You are right, my friend," said the philosopher, "but whence comes the -urgent necessity for a surplus of schools for culture, which further -gives rise to the necessity for a surplus of teachers?--when we so -clearly see that the demand for a surplus springs from a sphere which is -hostile to culture, and that the consequences of this surplus only lead -to non-culture. Indeed, we can discuss this dire necessity only in so -far as the modern State is willing to discuss these things with us, and -is prepared to follow up its demands by force: which phenomenon -certainly makes the same impression upon most people as if they were -addressed by the eternal law of things. For the rest, a 'Culture-State,' -to use the current expression, which makes such demands, is rather a -novelty, and has only come to a 'self-understanding' within the last -half century, _i.e._ in a period when (to use the favourite popular -word) so many 'self-understood' things came into being, but which are in -themselves not 'self-understood' at all. This right to higher education -has been taken so seriously by the most powerful of modern -States--Prussia--that the objectionable principle it has adopted, taken -in connection with the well-known daring and hardihood of this State, is -seen to have a menacing and dangerous consequence for the true German -spirit; for we see endeavours being made in this quarter to raise the -public school, formally systematised, up to the so-called 'level of the -time.' Here is to be found all that mechanism by means of which as many -scholars as possible are urged on to take up courses of public school -training: here, indeed, the State has its most powerful inducement--the -concession of certain privileges respecting military service, with the -natural consequence that, according to the unprejudiced evidence of -statistical officials, by this, and by this only, can we explain the -universal congestion of all Prussian public schools, and the urgent and -continual need for new ones. What more can the State do for a surplus of -educational institutions than bring all the higher and the majority of -the lower civil service appointments, the right of entry to the -universities, and even the most influential military posts into close -connection with the public school: and all this in a country where both -universal military service and the highest offices of the State -unconsciously attract all gifted natures to them. The public school is -here looked upon as an honourable aim, and every one who feels himself -urged on to the sphere of government will be found on his way to it. -This is a new and quite original occurrence: the State assumes the -attitude of a mystogogue of culture, and, whilst it promotes its own -ends, it obliges every one of its servants not to appear in its presence -without the torch of universal State education in their hands, by the -flickering light of which they may again recognise the State as the -highest goal, as the reward of all their strivings after education. - -"Now this last phenomenon should indeed surprise them; it should -remind them of that allied, slowly understood tendency of a philosophy -which was formerly promoted for reasons of State, namely, the -tendency of the Hegelian philosophy: yea, it would perhaps be no -exaggeration to say that, in the subordination of all strivings after -education to reasons of State, Prussia has appropriated, with success, -the principle and the useful heirloom of the Hegelian philosophy, -whose apotheosis of the State in _this_ subordination certainly -reaches its height." - -"But," said the philosopher's companion, "what purposes can the State -have in view with such a strange aim? For that it has some State -objects in view is seen in the manner in which the conditions of -Prussian schools are admired by, meditated upon, and occasionally -imitated by other States. These other States obviously presuppose -something here that, if adopted, would tend towards the maintenance -and power of the State, like our well-known and popular conscription. -Where everyone proudly wears his soldier's uniform at regular -intervals, where almost every one has absorbed a uniform type of -national culture through the public schools, enthusiastic hyperboles -may well be uttered concerning the systems employed in former times, -and a form of State omnipotence which was attained only in antiquity, -and which almost every young man, by both instinct and training, -thinks it is the crowning glory and highest aim of human beings to -reach." - -"Such a comparison," said the philosopher, "would be quite -hyperbolical, and would not hobble along on one leg only. For, indeed, -the ancient State emphatically did not share the utilitarian point of -view of recognising as culture only what was directly useful to the -State itself, and was far from wishing to destroy those impulses which -did not seem to be immediately applicable. For this very reason the -profound Greek had for the State that strong feeling of admiration and -thankfulness which is so distasteful to modern men; because he clearly -recognised not only that without such State protection the germs of -his culture could not develop, but also that all his inimitable and -perennial culture had flourished so luxuriantly under the wise and -careful guardianship of the protection afforded by the State. The -State was for his culture not a supervisor, regulator, and watchman, -but a vigorous and muscular companion and friend, ready for war, who -accompanied his noble, admired, and, as it were, ethereal friend -through disagreeable reality, earning his thanks therefor. This, -however, does not happen when a modern State lays claim to such hearty -gratitude because it renders such chivalrous service to German culture -and art: for in this regard its past is as ignominious as its present, -as a proof of which we have but to think of the manner in which the -memory of our great poets and artists is celebrated in German cities, -and how the highest objects of these German masters are supported on -the part of the State. - -"There must therefore be peculiar circumstances surrounding both this -purpose towards which the State is tending, and which always promotes -what is here called 'education'; and surrounding likewise the culture -thus promoted, which subordinates itself to this purpose of the State. -With the real German spirit and the education derived therefrom, such -as I have slowly outlined for you, this purpose of the State is at -war, hiddenly or openly: _the_ spirit of education, which is welcomed -and encouraged with such interest by the State, and owing to which the -schools of this country are so much admired abroad, must accordingly -originate in a sphere that never comes into contact with this true -German spirit: with that spirit which speaks to us so wondrously from -the inner heart of the German Reformation, German music, and German -philosophy, and which, like a noble exile, is regarded with such -indifference and scorn by the luxurious education afforded by the -State. This spirit is a stranger: it passes by in solitary sadness, -and far away from it the censer of pseudo-culture is swung backwards -and forwards, which, amidst the acclamations of 'educated' teachers -and journalists, arrogates to itself its name and privileges, and -metes out insulting treatment to the word 'German.' Why does the State -require that surplus of educational institutions, of teachers? Why -this education of the masses on such an extended scale? Because the -true German spirit is hated, because the aristocratic nature of true -culture is feared, because the people endeavour in this way to drive -single great individuals into self-exile, so that the claims of the -masses to education may be, so to speak, planted down and carefully -tended, in order that the many may in this way endeavour to escape the -rigid and strict discipline of the few great leaders, so that the -masses may be persuaded that they can easily find the path for -themselves--following the guiding star of the State! - -"A new phenomenon! The State as the guiding star of culture! In the -meantime one thing consoles me: this German spirit, which people are -combating so much, and for which they have substituted a gaudily -attired _locum tenens_, this spirit is brave: it will fight and redeem -itself into a purer age; noble, as it is now, and victorious, as it -one day will be, it will always preserve in its mind a certain pitiful -toleration of the State, if the latter, hard-pressed in the hour of -extremity, secures such a pseudo-culture as its associate. For what, -after all, do we know about the difficult task of governing men, -_i.e._ to keep law, order, quietness, and peace among millions of -boundlessly egoistical, unjust, unreasonable, dishonourable, envious, -malignant, and hence very narrow-minded and perverse human beings; and -thus to protect the few things that the State has conquered for itself -against covetous neighbours and jealous robbers? Such a hard-pressed -State holds out its arms to any associate, grasps at any straw; and -when such an associate does introduce himself with flowery eloquence, -when he adjudges the State, as Hegel did, to be an 'absolutely -complete ethical organism,' the be-all and end-all of every one's -education, and goes on to indicate how he himself can best promote the -interests of the State--who will be surprised if, without further -parley, the State falls upon his neck and cries aloud in a barbaric -voice of full conviction: 'Yes! Thou art education! Thou art indeed -culture!'" - - - - -FOURTH LECTURE. - -(_Delivered on the 5th of March 1872._) - - -LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,--Now that you have followed my tale up to this -point, and that we have made ourselves joint masters of the solitary, -remote, and at times abusive duologue of the philosopher and his -companion, I sincerely hope that you, like strong swimmers, are ready -to proceed on the second half of our journey, especially as I can -promise you that a few other marionettes will appear in the -puppet-play of my adventure, and that if up to the present you have -only been able to do little more than endure what I have been telling -you, the waves of my story will now bear you more quickly and easily -towards the end. In other words we have now come to a turning, and it -would be advisable for us to take a short glance backwards to see what -we think we have gained from such a varied conversation. - -"Remain in your present position," the philosopher seemed to say to -his companion, "for you may cherish hopes. It is more and more clearly -evident that we have no educational institutions at all; but that we -ought to have them. Our public schools--established, it would seem, -for this high object--have either become the nurseries of a -reprehensible culture which repels the true culture with profound -hatred--_i.e._ a true, aristocratic culture, founded upon a few -carefully chosen minds; or they foster a micrological and sterile -learning which, while it is far removed from culture, has at least -this merit, that it avoids that reprehensible culture as well as the -true culture." The philosopher had particularly drawn his companion's -attention to the strange corruption which must have entered into the -heart of culture when the State thought itself capable of tyrannising -over it and of attaining its ends through it; and further when the -State, in conjunction with this culture, struggled against other -hostile forces as well as against _the_ spirit which the philosopher -ventured to call the "true German spirit." This spirit, linked to the -Greeks by the noblest ties, and shown by its past history to have been -steadfast and courageous, pure and lofty in its aims, its faculties -qualifying it for the high task of freeing modern man from the curse -of modernity--this spirit is condemned to live apart, banished from -its inheritance. But when its slow, painful tones of woe resound -through the desert of the present, then the overladen and gaily-decked -caravan of culture is pulled up short, horror-stricken. We must not -only astonish, but terrify--such was the philosopher's opinion: not to -fly shamefully away, but to take the offensive, was his advice; but he -especially counselled his companion not to ponder too anxiously over -the individual from whom, through a higher instinct, this aversion for -the present barbarism proceeded, "Let it perish: the Pythian god had -no difficulty in finding a new tripod, a second Pythia, so long, at -least, as the mystic cold vapours rose from the earth." - -The philosopher once more began to speak: "Be careful to remember, my -friend," said he, "there are two things you must not confuse. A man -must learn a great deal that he may live and take part in the struggle -for existence; but everything that he as an individual learns and does -with this end in view has nothing whatever to do with culture. This -latter only takes its beginning in a sphere that lies far above the -world of necessity, indigence, and struggle for existence. The -question now is to what extent a man values his ego in comparison with -other egos, how much of his strength he uses up in the endeavour to -earn his living. Many a one, by stoically confining his needs within a -narrow compass, will shortly and easily reach the sphere in which he -may forget, and, as it were, shake off his ego, so that he can enjoy -perpetual youth in a solar system of timeless and impersonal things. -Another widens the scope and needs of his ego as much as possible, and -builds the mausoleum of this ego in vast proportions, as if he were -prepared to fight and conquer that terrible adversary, Time. In this -instinct also we may see a longing for immortality: wealth and power, -wisdom, presence of mind, eloquence, a flourishing outward aspect, a -renowned name--all these are merely turned into the means by which an -insatiable, personal will to live craves for new life, with which, -again, it hankers after an eternity that is at last seen to be -illusory. - -"But even in this highest form of the ego, in the enhanced needs of -such a distended and, as it were, collective individual, true culture -is never touched upon; and if, for example, art is sought after, only -its disseminating and stimulating actions come into prominence, _i.e._ -those which least give rise to pure and noble art, and most of all to -low and degraded forms of it. For in all his efforts, however great -and exceptional they seem to the onlooker, he never succeeds in -freeing himself from his own hankering and restless personality: that -illuminated, ethereal sphere where one may contemplate without the -obstruction of one's own personality continually recedes from him--and -thus, let him learn, travel, and collect as he may, he must always -live an exiled life at a remote distance from a higher life and from -true culture. For true culture would scorn to contaminate itself with -the needy and covetous individual; it well knows how to give the slip -to the man who would fain employ it as a means of attaining to -egoistic ends; and if any one cherishes the belief that he has firmly -secured it as a means of livelihood, and that he can procure the -necessities of life by its sedulous cultivation, then it suddenly -steals away with noiseless steps and an air of derisive mockery.[6] - -"I will thus ask you, my friend, not to confound this culture, this -sensitive, fastidious, ethereal goddess, with that useful -maid-of-all-work which is also called 'culture,' but which is only -the intellectual servant and counsellor of one's practical -necessities, wants, and means of livelihood Every kind of training, -however, which holds out the prospect of bread-winning as its end and -aim, is not a training for culture as we understand the word; but -merely a collection of precepts and directions to show how, in the -struggle for existence, a man may preserve and protect his own person. -It may be freely admitted that for the great majority of men such a -course of instruction is of the highest importance; and the more -arduous the struggle is the more intensely must the young man strain -every nerve to utilise his strength to the best advantage. - -"But--let no one think for a moment that the schools which urge him on -to this struggle and prepare him for it are in any way seriously to be -considered as establishments of culture. They are institutions which -teach one how to take part in the battle of life; whether they promise -to turn out civil servants, or merchants, or officers, or wholesale -dealers, or farmers, or physicians, or men with a technical training. -The regulations and standards prevailing at such institutions differ -from those in a true educational institution; and what in the latter -is permitted, and even freely held out as often as possible, ought to -be considered as a criminal offence in the former. - -"Let me give you an example. If you wish to guide a young man on the -path of true culture, beware of interrupting his naive, confident, -and, as it were, immediate and personal relationship with nature. The -woods, the rocks, the winds, the vulture, the flowers, the butterfly, -the meads, the mountain slopes, must all speak to him in their own -language; in them he must, as it were, come to know himself again in -countless reflections and images, in a variegated round of changing -visions; and in this way he will unconsciously and gradually feel the -metaphysical unity of all things in the great image of nature, and at -the same time tranquillise his soul in the contemplation of her -eternal endurance and necessity. But how many young men should be -permitted to grow up in such close and almost personal proximity to -nature! The others must learn another truth betimes: how to subdue -nature to themselves. Here is an end of this naive metaphysics; and -the physiology of plants and animals, geology, inorganic chemistry, -force their devotees to view nature from an altogether different -standpoint. What is lost by this new point of view is not only a -poetical phantasmagoria, but the instinctive, true, and unique point -of view, instead of which we have shrewd and clever calculations, and, -so to speak, overreachings of nature. Thus to the truly cultured man -is vouchsafed the inestimable benefit of being able to remain -faithful, without a break, to the contemplative instincts of his -childhood, and so to attain to a calmness, unity, consistency, and -harmony which can never be even thought of by a man who is compelled -to fight in the struggle for existence. - -"You must not think, however, that I wish to withhold all praise from -our primary and secondary schools: I honour the seminaries where boys -learn arithmetic and master modern languages, and study geography and -the marvellous discoveries made in natural science. I am quite -prepared to say further that those youths who pass through the better -class of secondary schools are well entitled to make the claims put -forward by the fully-fledged public school boy; and the time is -certainly not far distant when such pupils will be everywhere freely -admitted to the universities and positions under the government, which -has hitherto been the case only with scholars from the public -schools--of our present public schools, be it noted![7] I cannot, -however, refrain from adding the melancholy reflection: if it be true -that secondary and public schools are, on the whole, working so -heartily in common towards the same ends, and differ from each other -only in such a slight degree, that they may take equal rank before the -tribunal of the State, then we completely lack another kind of -educational institutions: those for the development of culture! To say -the least, the secondary schools cannot be reproached with this; for -they have up to the present propitiously and honourably followed up -tendencies of a lower order, but one nevertheless highly necessary. In -the public schools, however, there is very much less honesty and very -much less ability too; for in them we find an instinctive feeling of -shame, the unconscious perception of the fact that the whole -institution has been ignominiously degraded, and that the sonorous -words of wise and apathetic teachers are contradictory to the dreary, -barbaric, and sterile reality. So there are no true cultural -institutions! And in those very places where a pretence to culture is -still kept up, we find the people more hopeless, atrophied, and -discontented than in the secondary schools, where the so-called -'realistic' subjects are taught! Besides this, only think how immature -and uninformed one must be in the company of such teachers when one -actually misunderstands the rigorously defined philosophical -expressions 'real' and 'realism' to such a degree as to think them the -contraries of mind and matter, and to interpret 'realism' as 'the road -to knowledge, formation, and mastery of reality.' - -"I for my own part know of only two exact contraries: _institutions -for teaching culture and institutions for teaching how to succeed in -life_. All our present institutions belong to the second class; but I -am speaking only of the first." - -About two hours went by while the philosophically-minded couple -chatted about such startling questions. Night slowly fell in the -meantime; and when in the twilight the philosopher's voice had sounded -like natural music through the woods, it now rang out in the profound -darkness of the night when he was speaking with excitement or even -passionately; his tones hissing and thundering far down the valley, -and reverberating among the trees and rocks. Suddenly he was silent: -he had just repeated, almost pathetically, the words, "we have no true -educational institutions; we have no true educational institutions!" -when something fell down just in front of him--it might have been a -fir-cone--and his dog barked and ran towards it. Thus interrupted, the -philosopher raised his head, and suddenly became aware of the -darkness, the cool air, and the lonely situation of himself and his -companion. "Well! What are we about!" he ejaculated, "it's dark. You -know whom we were expecting here; but he hasn't come. We have waited -in vain; let us go." - - * * * * * - -I must now, ladies and gentlemen, convey to you the impressions -experienced by my friend and myself as we eagerly listened to this -conversation, which we heard distinctly in our hiding-place. I have -already told you that at that place and at that hour we had intended -to hold a festival in commemoration of something: and this something -had to do with nothing else than matters concerning educational -training, of which we, in our own youthful opinions, had garnered a -plentiful harvest during our past life. We were thus disposed to -remember with gratitude the institution which we had at one time -thought out for ourselves at that very spot in order, as I have -already mentioned, that we might reciprocally encourage and watch over -one another's educational impulses. But a sudden and unexpected light -was thrown on all that past life as we silently gave ourselves up to -the vehement words of the philosopher. As when a traveller, walking -heedlessly across unknown ground, suddenly puts his foot over the edge -of a cliff, so it now seemed to us that we had hastened to meet the -great danger rather than run away from it. Here at this spot, so -memorable to us, we heard the warning: "Back! Not another step! Know -you not whither your footsteps tend, whither this deceitful path is -luring you?" - -It seemed to us that we now knew, and our feeling of overflowing -thankfulness impelled us so irresistibly towards our earnest -counsellor and trusty Eckart, that both of us sprang up at the same -moment and rushed towards the philosopher to embrace him. He was just -about to move off, and had already turned sideways when we rushed up -to him. The dog turned sharply round and barked, thinking doubtless, -like the philosopher's companion, of an attempt at robbery rather than -an enraptured embrace. It was plain that he had forgotten us. In a -word, he ran away. Our embrace was a miserable failure when we did -overtake him; for my friend gave a loud yell as the dog bit him, and -the philosopher himself sprang away from me with such force that we -both fell. What with the dog and the men there was a scramble that -lasted a few minutes, until my friend began to call out loudly, -parodying the philosopher's own words: "In the name of all culture and -pseudo-culture, what does the silly dog want with us? Hence, you -confounded dog; you uninitiated, never to be initiated; hasten away -from us, silent and ashamed!" After this outburst matters were cleared -up to some extent, at any rate so far as they could be cleared up in -the darkness of the wood. "Oh, it's you!" ejaculated the philosopher, -"our duellists! How you startled us! What on earth drives you to jump -out upon us like this at such a time of the night?" - -"Joy, thankfulness, and reverence," said we, shaking the old man by -the hand, whilst the dog barked as if he understood, "we can't let you -go without telling you this. And if you are to understand everything -you must not go away just yet; we want to ask you about so many things -that lie heavily on our hearts. Stay yet awhile; we know every foot of -the way and can accompany you afterwards. The gentleman you expect may -yet turn up. Look over yonder on the Rhine: what is that we see so -clearly floating on the surface of the water as if surrounded by the -light of many torches? It is there that we may look for your friend, I -would even venture to say that it is he who is coming towards you with -all those lights." - -And so much did we assail the surprised old man with our entreaties, -promises, and fantastic delusions, that we persuaded the philosopher -to walk to and fro with us on the little plateau, "by learned lumber -undisturbed," as my friend added. - -"Shame on you!" said the philosopher, "if you really want to quote -something, why choose Faust? However, I will give in to you, quotation -or no quotation, if only our young companions will keep still and not -run away as suddenly as they made their appearance, for they are like -will-o'-the-wisps; we are amazed when they are there and again when -they are not there." - -My friend immediately recited-- - - Respect, I hope, will teach us how we may - Our lighter disposition keep at bay. - Our course is only zig-zag as a rule. - -The philosopher was surprised, and stood still. "You astonish me, you -will-o'-the-wisps," he said; "this is no quagmire we are on now. Of -what use is this ground to you? What does the proximity of a -philosopher mean to you? For around him the air is sharp and clear, -the ground dry and hard. You must find out a more fantastic region for -your zig-zagging inclinations." - -"I think," interrupted the philosopher's companion at this point, "the -gentlemen have already told us that they promised to meet some one -here at this hour; but it seems to me that they listened to our comedy -of education like a chorus, and truly 'idealistic spectators'--for -they did not disturb us; we thought we were alone with each other." - -"Yes, that is true," said the philosopher, "that praise must not be -withheld from them, but it seems to me that they deserve still higher -praise----" - -Here I seized the philosopher's hand and said: "That man must be as -obtuse as a reptile, with his stomach on the ground and his head -buried in mud, who can listen to such a discourse as yours without -becoming earnest and thoughtful, or even excited and indignant. -Self-accusation and annoyance might perhaps cause a few to get angry; -but our impression was quite different: the only thing I do not know -is how exactly to describe it. This hour was so well-timed for us, and -our minds were so well prepared, that we sat there like empty vessels, -and now it seems as if we were filled to overflowing with this new -wisdom: for I no longer know how to help myself, and if some one asked -me what I am thinking of doing to-morrow, or what I have made up my -mind to do with myself from now on, I should not know what to answer. -For it is easy to see that we have up to the present been living and -educating ourselves in the wrong way--but what can we do to cross over -the chasm between to-day and to-morrow?" - -"Yes," acknowledged my friend, "I have a similar feeling, and I ask -the same question: but besides that I feel as if I were frightened -away from German culture by entertaining such high and ideal views of -its task; yea, as if I were unworthy to co-operate with it in carrying -out its aims. I only see a resplendent file of the highest natures -moving towards this goal; I can imagine over what abysses and through -what temptations this procession travels. Who would dare to be so bold -as to join in it?" - -At this point the philosopher's companion again turned to him and -said: "Don't be angry with me when I tell you that I too have a -somewhat similar feeling, which I have not mentioned to you before. -When talking to you I often felt drawn out of myself, as it were, and -inspired with your ardour and hopes till I almost forgot myself. Then -a calmer moment arrives; a piercing wind of reality brings me back to -earth--and then I see the wide gulf between us, over which you -yourself, as in a dream, draw me back again. Then what you call -'culture' merely totters meaninglessly around me or lies heavily on my -breast: it is like a shirt of mail that weighs me down, or a sword -that I cannot wield." - -Our minds, as we thus argued with the philosopher, were unanimous, -and, mutually encouraging and stimulating one another, we slowly -walked with him backwards and forwards along the unencumbered space -which had earlier in the day served us as a shooting range. And then, -in the still night, under the peaceful light of hundreds of stars, we -all broke out into a tirade which ran somewhat as follows:-- - -"You have told us so much about the genius," we began, "about his -lonely and wearisome journey through the world, as if nature never -exhibited anything but the most diametrical contraries: in one place -the stupid, dull masses, acting by instinct, and then, on a far higher -and more remote plane, the great contemplating few, destined for the -production of immortal works. But now you call these the apexes of the -intellectual pyramid: it would, however, seem that between the broad, -heavily burdened foundation up to the highest of the free and -unencumbered peaks there must be countless intermediate degrees, and -that here we must apply the saying _natura non facit saltus_. Where -then are we to look for the beginning of what you call culture; where -is the line of demarcation to be drawn between the spheres which are -ruled from below upwards and those which are ruled from above -downwards? And if it be only in connection with these exalted beings -that true culture may be spoken of, how are institutions to be founded -for the uncertain existence of such natures, how can we devise -educational establishments which shall be of benefit only to these -select few? It rather seems to us that such persons know how to find -their own way, and that their full strength is shown in their being -able to walk without the educational crutches necessary for other -people, and thus undisturbed to make their way through the storm and -stress of this rough world just like a phantom." - -We kept on arguing in this fashion, speaking without any great ability -and not putting our thoughts in any special form: but the -philosopher's companion went even further, and said to him: "Just -think of all these great geniuses of whom we are wont to be so proud, -looking upon them as tried and true leaders and guides of this real -German spirit, whose names we commemorate by statues and festivals, -and whose works we hold up with feelings of pride for the admiration -of foreign lands--how did they obtain the education you demand for -them, to what degree do they show that they have been nourished and -matured by basking in the sun of national education? And yet they are -seen to be possible, they have nevertheless become men whom we must -honour: yea, their works themselves justify the form of the -development of these noble spirits; they justify even a certain want -of education for which we must make allowance owing to their country -and the age in which they lived. How could Lessing and Winckelmann -benefit by the German culture of their time? Even less than, or at all -events just as little as Beethoven, Schiller, Goethe, or every one of -our great poets and artists. It may perhaps be a law of nature that -only the later generations are destined to know by what divine gifts -an earlier generation was favoured." - -At this point the old philosopher could not control his anger, and -shouted to his companion: "Oh, you innocent lamb of knowledge! You -gentle sucking doves, all of you! And would you give the name of -arguments to those distorted, clumsy, narrow-minded, ungainly, -crippled things? Yes, I have just now been listening to the fruits of -some of this present-day culture, and my ears are still ringing with -the sound of historical 'self-understood' things, of over-wise and -pitiless historical reasonings! Mark this, thou unprofaned Nature: -thou hast grown old, and for thousands of years this starry sky has -spanned the space above thee--but thou hast never yet heard such -conceited and, at bottom, mischievous chatter as the talk of the -present day! So you are proud of your poets and artists, my good -Teutons? You point to them and brag about them to foreign countries, -do you? And because it has given you no trouble to have them amongst -you, you have formed the pleasant theory that you need not concern -yourselves further with them? Isn't that so, my inexperienced -children: they come of their own free will, the stork brings them to -you! Who would dare to mention a midwife! You deserve an earnest -teaching, eh? You should be proud of the fact that all the noble and -brilliant men we have mentioned were prematurely suffocated, worn out, -and crushed through you, through your barbarism? You think without -shame of Lessing, who, on account of your stupidity, perished in -battle against your ludicrous gods and idols, the evils of your -theatres, your learned men, and your theologians, without once daring -to lift himself to the height of that immortal flight for which he -was brought into the world. And what are your impressions when you -think of Winckelmann, who, that he might rid his eyes of your -grotesque fatuousness, went to beg help from the Jesuits, and whose -disgraceful religious conversion recoils upon you and will always -remain an ineffaceable blemish upon you? You can even name Schiller -without blushing! Just look at his picture! The fiery, sparkling eyes, -looking at you with disdain, those flushed, death-like cheeks: can you -learn nothing from all that? In him you had a beautiful and divine -plaything, and through it was destroyed. And if it had been possible -for you to take Goethe's friendship away from this melancholy, hasty -life, hunted to premature death, then you would have crushed him even -sooner than you did. You have not rendered assistance to a single one -of our great geniuses--and now upon that fact you wish to build up the -theory that none of them shall ever be helped in future? For each of -them, however, up to this very moment, you have always been the -'resistance of the stupid world' that Goethe speaks of in his -"Epilogue to the Bell"; towards each of them you acted the part of -apathetic dullards or jealous narrow-hearts or malignant egotists. In -spite of you they created their immortal works, against you they -directed their attacks, and thanks to you they died so prematurely, -their tasks only half accomplished, blunted and dulled and shattered -in the battle. Who can tell to what these heroic men were destined to -attain if only that true German spirit had gathered them together -within the protecting walls of a powerful institution?--that spirit -which, without the help of some such institution, drags out an -isolated, debased, and degraded existence. All those great men were -utterly ruined; and it is only an insane belief in the Hegelian -'reasonableness of all happenings' which would absolve you of any -responsibility in the matter. And not those men alone! Indictments are -pouring forth against you from every intellectual province: whether I -look at the talents of our poets, philosophers, painters, or -sculptors--and not only in the case of gifts of the highest order--I -everywhere see immaturity, overstrained nerves, or prematurely -exhausted energies, abilities wasted and nipped in the bud; I -everywhere feel that 'resistance of the stupid world,' in other words, -_your_ guiltiness. That is what I am talking about when I speak of -lacking educational establishments, and why I think those which at -present claim the name in such a pitiful condition. Whoever is pleased -to call this an 'ideal desire,' and refers to it as 'ideal' as if he -were trying to get rid of it by praising me, deserves the answer that -the present system is a scandal and a disgrace, and that the man who -asks for warmth in the midst of ice and snow must indeed get angry if -he hears this referred to as an 'ideal desire.' The matter we are now -discussing is concerned with clear, urgent, and palpably evident -realities: a man who knows anything of the question feels that there -is a need which must be seen to, just like cold and hunger. But the -man who is not affected at all by this matter most certainly has a -standard by which to measure the extent of his own culture, and thus -to know what I call 'culture,' and where the line should be drawn -between that which is ruled from below upwards and that which is ruled -from above downwards." - -The philosopher seemed to be speaking very heatedly. We begged him to -walk round with us again, since he had uttered the latter part of his -discourse standing near the tree-stump which had served us as a -target. For a few minutes not a word more was spoken. Slowly and -thoughtfully we walked to and fro. We did not so much feel ashamed of -having brought forward such foolish arguments as we felt a kind of -restitution of our personality. After the heated and, so far as we -were concerned, very unflattering utterance of the philosopher, we -seemed to feel ourselves nearer to him--that we even stood in a -personal relationship to him. For so wretched is man that he never -feels himself brought into such close contact with a stranger as when -the latter shows some sign of weakness, some defect. That our -philosopher had lost his temper and made use of abusive language -helped to bridge over the gulf created between us by our timid respect -for him: and for the sake of the reader who feels his indignation -rising at this suggestion let it be added that this bridge often leads -from distant hero-worship to personal love and pity. And, after the -feeling that our personality had been restored to us, this pity -gradually became stronger and stronger. Why were we making this old -man walk up and down with us between the rocks and trees at that time -of the night? And, since he had yielded to our entreaties, why could -we not have thought of a more modest and unassuming manner of having -ourselves instructed, why should the three of us have contradicted him -in such clumsy terms? - -For now we saw how thoughtless, unprepared, and baseless were all the -objections we had made, and how greatly the echo of _the_ present was -heard in them, the voice of which, in the province of culture, the old -man would fain not have heard. Our objections, however, were not -purely intellectual ones: our reasons for protesting against the -philosopher's statements seemed to lie elsewhere. They arose perhaps -from the instinctive anxiety to know whether, if the philosopher's -views were carried into effect, our own personalities would find a -place in the higher or lower division; and this made it necessary for -us to find some arguments against the mode of thinking which robbed us -of our self-styled claims to culture. People, however, should not -argue with companions who feel the weight of an argument so -personally; or, as the moral in our case would have been: such -companions should not argue, should not contradict at all. - -So we walked on beside the philosopher, ashamed, compassionate, -dissatisfied with ourselves, and more than ever convinced that the old -man was right and that we had done him wrong. How remote now seemed -the youthful dream of our educational institution; how clearly we saw -the danger which we had hitherto escaped merely by good luck, namely, -giving ourselves up body and soul to the educational system which -forced itself upon our notice so enticingly, from the time when we -entered the public schools up to that moment. How then had it come -about that we had not taken our places in the chorus of its admirers? -Perhaps merely because we were real students, and could still draw -back from the rough-and-tumble, the pushing and struggling, the -restless, ever-breaking waves of publicity, to seek refuge in our own -little educational establishment; which, however, time would have soon -swallowed up also. - -Overcome by such reflections, we were about to address the philosopher -again, when he suddenly turned towards us, and said in a softer tone-- - -"I cannot be surprised if you young men behave rashly and -thoughtlessly; for it is hardly likely that you have ever seriously -considered what I have just said to you. Don't be in a hurry; carry -this question about with you, but do at any rate consider it day and -night. For you are now at the parting of the ways, and now you know -where each path leads. If you take the one, your age will receive you -with open arms, you will not find it wanting in honours and -decorations: you will form units of an enormous rank and file; and -there will be as many people like-minded standing behind you as in -front of you. And when the leader gives the word it will be re-echoed -from rank to rank. For here your first duty is this: to fight in rank -and file; and your second: to annihilate all those who refuse to form -part of the rank and file. On the other path you will have but few -fellow-travellers: it is more arduous, winding and precipitous; and -those who take the first path will mock you, for your progress is more -wearisome, and they will try to lure you over into their own ranks. -When the two paths happen to cross, however, you will be roughly -handled and thrust aside, or else shunned and isolated. - -"Now, take these two parties, so different from each other in every -respect, and tell me what meaning an educational establishment would -have for them. That enormous horde, crowding onwards on the first path -towards its goal, would take the term to mean an institution by which -each of its members would become duly qualified to take his place in -the rank and file, and would be purged of everything which might tend -to make him strive after higher and more remote aims. I don't deny, of -course, that they can find pompous words with which to describe their -aims: for example, they speak of the 'universal development of free -personality upon a firm social, national, and human basis,' or they -announce as their goal: 'The founding of the peaceful sovereignty of -the people upon reason, education, and justice.' - -"An educational establishment for the other and smaller company, -however, would be something vastly different. They would employ it to -prevent themselves from being separated from one another and -overwhelmed by the first huge crowd, to prevent their few select -spirits from losing sight of their splendid and noble task through -premature weariness, or from being turned aside from the true path, -corrupted, or subverted. These select spirits must complete their -work: that is the _raison d'être_ of their common institution--a work, -indeed, which, as it were, must be free from subjective traces, and -must further rise above the transient events of future times as the -pure reflection of the eternal and immutable essence of things. And -all those who occupy places in that institution must co-operate in the -endeavour to engender men of genius by this purification from -subjectiveness and the creation of the works of genius. Not a few, -even of those whose talents may be of the second or third order, are -suited to such co-operation, and only when serving in such an -educational establishment as this do they feel that they are truly -carrying out their life's task. But now it is just these talents I -speak of which are drawn away from the true path, and their instincts -estranged, by the continual seductions of that modern 'culture.' - -"The egotistic emotions, weaknesses, and vanities of these few select -minds are continually assailed by the temptations unceasingly murmured -into their ears by the spirit of the age: 'Come with me! There you are -servants, retainers, tools, eclipsed by higher natures; your own -peculiar characteristics never have free play; you are tied down, -chained down, like slaves; yea, like automata: here, with me, you will -enjoy the freedom of your own personalities, as masters should, your -talents will cast their lustre on yourselves alone, with their aid you -may come to the very front rank; an innumerable train of followers -will accompany you, and the applause of public opinion will yield you -more pleasure than a nobly-bestowed commendation from the height of -genius.' Even the very best of men now yield to these temptations: and -it cannot be said that the deciding factor here is the degree of -talent, or whether a man is accessible to these voices or not; but -rather the degree and the height of a certain moral sublimity, the -instinct towards heroism, towards sacrifice--and finally a positive, -habitual need of culture, prepared by a proper kind of education, -which education, as I have previously said, is first and foremost -obedience and submission to the discipline of genius. Of this -discipline and submission, however, the present institutions called by -courtesy 'educational establishments' know nothing whatever, although -I have no doubt that the public school was originally intended to be -an institution for sowing the seeds of true culture, or at least as a -preparation for it. I have no doubt, either, that they took the first -bold steps in the wonderful and stirring times of the Reformation, and -that afterwards, in the era which gave birth to Schiller and Goethe, -there was again a growing demand for culture, like the first -protuberance of that wing spoken of by Plato in the _Phaedrus_, which, -at every contact with the beautiful, bears the soul aloft into the -upper regions, the habitations of the gods." - -"Ah," began the philosopher's companion, "when you quote the divine -Plato and the world of ideas, I do not think you are angry with me, -however much my previous utterance may have merited your disapproval -and wrath. As soon as you speak of it, I feel that Platonic wing -rising within me; and it is only at intervals, when I act as the -charioteer of my soul, that I have any difficulty with the resisting -and unwilling horse that Plato has also described to us, the -'crooked, lumbering animal, put together anyhow, with a short, thick -neck; flat-faced, and of a dark colour, with grey eyes and blood-red -complexion; the mate of insolence and pride, shag-eared and deaf, -hardly yielding to whip or spur.'[8] Just think how long I have lived -at a distance from you, and how all those temptations you speak of -have endeavoured to lure me away, not perhaps without some success, -even though I myself may not have observed it. I now see more clearly -than ever the necessity for an institution which will enable us to -live and mix freely with the few men of true culture, so that we may -have them as our leaders and guiding stars. How greatly I feel the -danger of travelling alone! And when it occurred to me that I could -save myself by flight from all contact with the spirit of the time, I -found that this flight itself was a mere delusion. Continuously, with -every breath we take, some amount of that atmosphere circulates -through every vein and artery, and no solitude is lonesome or distant -enough for us to be out of reach of its fogs and clouds. Whether in -the guise of hope, doubt, profit, or virtue, the shades of that -culture hover about us; and we have been deceived by that jugglery -even here in the presence of a true hermit of culture. How steadfastly -and faithfully must the few followers of that culture--which might -almost be called sectarian--be ever on the alert! How they must -strengthen and uphold one another! How adversely would any errors be -criticised here, and how sympathetically excused! And thus, teacher, I -ask you to pardon me, after you have laboured so earnestly to set me -in the right path!" - -"You use a language which I do not care for, my friend," said the -philosopher, "and one which reminds me of a diocesan conference. With -that I have nothing to do. But your Platonic horse pleases me, and on -its account you shall be forgiven. I am willing to exchange my own -animal for yours. But it is getting chilly, and I don't feel inclined -to walk about any more just now. The friend I was waiting for is -indeed foolish enough to come up here even at midnight if he promised -to do so. But I have waited in vain for the signal agreed upon; and I -cannot guess what has delayed him. For as a rule he is punctual, as we -old men are wont, to be, something that you young men nowadays look -upon as old-fashioned. But he has left me in the lurch for once: how -annoying it is! Come away with me! It's time to go!" - -At this moment something happened. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[6] It will be apparent from these words that Nietzsche is still under -the influence of Schopenhauer.--TR. - -[7] This prophecy has come true.--TR. - -[8] _Phaedrus_; Jowett's translation. - - - - -FIFTH LECTURE. - -(_Delivered on the 23rd of March 1872._) - - -LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,--If you have lent a sympathetic ear to what I -have told you about the heated argument of our philosopher in the -stillness of that memorable night, you must have felt as disappointed -as we did when he announced his peevish intention. You will remember -that he had suddenly told us he wished to go; for, having been left in -the lurch by his friend in the first place, and, in the second, having -been bored rather than animated by the remarks addressed to him by his -companion and ourselves when walking backwards and forwards on the -hillside, he now apparently wanted to put an end to what appeared to -him to be a useless discussion. It must have seemed to him that his -day had been lost, and he would have liked to blot it out of his -memory, together with the recollection of ever having made our -acquaintance. And we were thus rather unwillingly preparing to depart -when something else suddenly brought him to a standstill, and the foot -he had just raised sank hesitatingly to the ground again. - -A coloured flame, making a crackling noise for a few seconds, -attracted our attention from the direction of the Rhine; and -immediately following upon this we heard a slow, harmonious call, -quite in tune, although plainly the cry of numerous youthful voices. -"That's his signal," exclaimed the philosopher, "so my friend is -really coming, and I haven't waited for nothing, after all. It will be -a midnight meeting indeed--but how am I to let him know that I am -still here? Come! Your pistols; let us see your talent once again! Did -you hear the severe rhythm of that melody saluting us? Mark it well, -and answer it in the same rhythm by a series of shots." - -This was a task well suited to our tastes and abilities; so we loaded -up as quickly as we could and pointed our weapons at the brilliant -stars in the heavens, whilst the echo of that piercing cry died away -in the distance. The reports of the first, second, and third shots -sounded sharply in the stillness; and then the philosopher cried -"False time!" as our rhythm was suddenly interrupted: for, like a -lightning flash, a shooting star tore its way across the clouds after -the third report, and almost involuntarily our fourth and fifth shots -were sent after it in the direction it had taken. - -"False time!" said the philosopher again, "who told you to shoot -stars! They can fall well enough without you! People should know what -they want before they begin to handle weapons." - -And then we once more heard that loud melody from the waters of the -Rhine, intoned by numerous and strong voices. "They understand us," -said the philosopher, laughing, "and who indeed could resist when -such a dazzling phantom comes within range?" "Hush!" interrupted his -friend, "what sort of a company can it be that returns the signal to -us in such a way? I should say they were between twenty and forty -strong, manly voices in that crowd--and where would such a number come -from to greet us? They don't appear to have left the opposite bank of -the Rhine yet; but at any rate we must have a look at them from our -own side of the river. Come along, quickly!" - -We were then standing near the top of the hill, you may remember, and -our view of the river was interrupted by a dark, thick wood. On the -other hand, as I have told you, from the quiet little spot which we -had left we could have a better view than from the little plateau on -the hillside; and the Rhine, with the island of Nonnenwörth in the -middle, was just visible to the beholder who peered over the -tree-tops. We therefore set off hastily towards this little spot, -taking care, however, not to go too quickly for the philosopher's -comfort. The night was pitch dark, and we seemed to find our way by -instinct rather than by clearly distinguishing the path, as we walked -down with the philosopher in the middle. - -We had scarcely reached our side of the river when a broad and fiery, -yet dull and uncertain light shot up, which plainly came from the -opposite side of the Rhine. "Those are torches," I cried, "there is -nothing surer than that my comrades from Bonn are over yonder, and -that your friend must be with them. It is they who sang that peculiar -song, and they have doubtless accompanied your friend here. See! -Listen! They are putting off in little boats. The whole torchlight -procession will have arrived here in less than half an hour." - -The philosopher jumped back. "What do you say?" he ejaculated, "your -comrades from Bonn--students--can my friend have come here with -_students_?" - -This question, uttered almost wrathfully, provoked us. "What's your -objection to students?" we demanded; but there was no answer. It was -only after a pause that the philosopher slowly began to speak, not -addressing us directly, as it were, but rather some one in the -distance: "So, my friend, even at midnight, even on the top of a -lonely mountain, we shall not be alone; and you yourself are bringing -a pack of mischief-making students along with you, although you well -know that I am only too glad to get out of the way of _hoc genus -omne_. I don't quite understand you, my friend: it must mean something -when we arrange to meet after a long separation at such an -out-of-the-way place and at such an unusual hour. Why should we want a -crowd of witnesses--and such witnesses! What calls us together to-day -is least of all a sentimental, soft-hearted necessity; for both of us -learnt early in life to live alone in dignified isolation. It was not -for our own sakes, not to show our tender feelings towards each other, -or to perform an unrehearsed act of friendship, that we decided to -meet here; but that here, where I once came suddenly upon you as you -sat in majestic solitude, we might earnestly deliberate with each -other like knights of a new order. Let them listen to us who can -understand us; but why should you bring with you a throng of people -who don't understand us! I don't know what you mean by such a thing, -my friend!" - -We did not think it proper to interrupt the dissatisfied old grumbler; -and as he came to a melancholy close we did not dare to tell him how -greatly this distrustful repudiation of students vexed us. - -At last the philosopher's companion turned to him and said: "I am -reminded of the fact that even you at one time, before I made your -acquaintance, occupied posts in several universities, and that reports -concerning your intercourse with the students and your methods of -instruction at the time are still in circulation. From the tone of -resignation in which you have just referred to students many would be -inclined to think that you had some peculiar experiences which were -not at all to your liking; but personally I rather believe that you -saw and experienced in such places just what every one else saw and -experienced in them, but that you judged what you saw and felt more -justly and severely than any one else. For, during the time I have -known you, I have learnt that the most noteworthy, instructive, and -decisive experiences and events in one's life are those which are of -daily occurrence; that the greatest riddle, displayed in full view of -all, is seen by the fewest to be the greatest riddle, and that these -problems are spread about in every direction, under the very feet of -the passers-by, for the few real philosophers to lift up carefully, -thenceforth to shine as diamonds of wisdom. Perhaps, in the short time -now left us before the arrival of your friend, you will be good enough -to tell us something of your experiences of university life, so as to -close the circle of observations, to which we were involuntarily -urged, respecting our educational institutions. We may also be allowed -to remind you that you, at an earlier stage of your remarks, gave me -the promise that you would do so. Starting with the public school, you -claimed for it an extraordinary importance: all other institutions -must be judged by its standard, according as its aim has been -proposed; and, if its aim happens to be wrong, all the others have to -suffer. Such an importance cannot now be adopted by the universities -as a standard; for, by their present system of grouping, they would be -nothing more than institutions where public school students might go -through finishing courses. You promised me that you would explain this -in greater detail later on: perhaps our student friends can bear -witness to that, if they chanced to overhear that part of our -conversation." - -"We can testify to that," I put in. The philosopher then turned to us -and said: "Well, if you really did listen attentively, perhaps you can -now tell me what you understand by the expression 'the present aim of -our public schools.' Besides, you are still near enough to this sphere -to judge my opinions by the standard of your own impressions and -experiences." - -My friend instantly answered, quickly and smartly, as was his habit, -in the following words: "Until now we had always thought that the sole -object of the public school was to prepare students for the -universities. This preparation, however, should tend to make us -independent enough for the extraordinarily free position of a -university student;[9] for it seems to me that a student, to a greater -extent than any other individual, has more to decide and settle for -himself. He must guide himself on a wide, utterly unknown path for -many years, so the public school must do its best to render him -independent." - -I continued the argument where my friend left off. "It even seems to -me," I said, "that everything for which you have justly blamed the -public school is only a necessary means employed to imbue the youthful -student with some kind of independence, or at all events with the -belief that there is such a thing. The teaching of German composition -must be at the service of this independence: the individual must enjoy -his opinions and carry out his designs early, so that he may be able -to travel alone and without crutches. In this way he will soon be -encouraged to produce original work, and still sooner to take up -criticism and analysis. If Latin and Greek studies prove insufficient -to make a student an enthusiastic admirer of antiquity, the methods -with which such studies are pursued are at all events sufficient to -awaken the scientific sense, the desire for a more strict causality of -knowledge, the passion for finding out and inventing. Only think how -many young men may be lured away for ever to the attractions of -science by a new reading of some sort which they have snatched up with -youthful hands at the public school! The public school boy must learn -and collect a great deal of varied information: hence an impulse will -gradually be created, accompanied with which he will continue to learn -and collect independently at the university. We believe, in short, -that the aim of the public school is to prepare and accustom the -student always to live and learn independently afterwards, just as -beforehand he must live and learn dependently at the public school." - -The philosopher laughed, not altogether good-naturedly, and said: "You -have just given me a fine example of that independence. And it is this -very independence that shocks me so much, and makes any place in the -neighbourhood of present-day students so disagreeable to me. Yes, my -good friends, you are perfect, you are mature; nature has cast you and -broken up the moulds, and your teachers must surely gloat over you. -What liberty, certitude, and independence of judgment; what novelty -and freshness of insight! You sit in judgment--and the cultures of all -ages run away. The scientific sense is kindled, and rises out of you -like a flame--let people be careful, lest you set them alight! If I go -further into the question and look at your professors, I again find -the same independence in a greater and even more charming degree: -never was there a time so full of the most sublime independent folk, -never was slavery more detested, the slavery of education and culture -included. - -"Permit me, however, to measure this independence of yours by the -standard of this culture, and to consider your university as an -educational institution and nothing else. If a foreigner desires to -know something of the methods of our universities, he asks first of -all with emphasis: 'How is the student connected with the university?' -We answer: 'By the ear, as a hearer.' The foreigner is astonished. -'Only by the ear?' he repeats. 'Only by the ear,' we again reply. The -student hears. When he speaks, when he sees, when he is in the company -of his companions when he takes up some branch of art: in short, when -he _lives_ he is independent, _i.e._ not dependent upon the -educational institution. The student very often writes down something -while he hears; and it is only at these rare moments that he hangs to -the umbilical cord of his alma mater. He himself may choose what he is -to listen to; he is not bound to believe what is said; he may close -his ears if he does not care to hear. This is the 'acroamatic' method -of teaching. - -"The teacher, however, speaks to these listening students. Whatever -else he may think and do is cut off from the student's perception by -an immense gap. The professor often reads when he is speaking. As a -rule he wishes to have as many hearers as possible; he is not content -to have a few, and he is never satisfied with one only. One speaking -mouth, with many ears, and half as many writing hands--there you have -to all appearances, the external academical apparatus; the university -engine of culture set in motion. Moreover, the proprietor of this one -mouth is severed from and independent of the owners of the many ears; -and this double independence is enthusiastically designated as -'academical freedom.' And again, that this freedom may be broadened -still more, the one may speak what he likes and the other may hear -what he likes; except that, behind both of them, at a modest distance, -stands the State, with all the intentness of a supervisor, to remind -the professors and students from time to time that _it_ is the aim, -the goal, the be-all and end-all, of this curious speaking and hearing -procedure. - -"We, who must be permitted to regard this phenomenon merely as an -educational institution, will then inform the inquiring foreigner that -what is called 'culture' in our universities merely proceeds from the -mouth to the ear, and that every kind of training for culture is, as I -said before, merely 'acroamatic.' Since, however, not only the -hearing, but also the choice of what to hear is left to the -independent decision of the liberal-minded and unprejudiced student, -and since, again, he can withhold all belief and authority from what -he hears, all training for culture, in the true sense of the term, -reverts to himself; and the independence it was thought desirable to -aim at in the public school now presents itself with the highest -possible pride as 'academical self-training for culture,' and struts -about in its brilliant plumage. - -"Happy times, when youths are clever and cultured enough to teach -themselves how to walk! Unsurpassable public schools, which succeed in -implanting independence in the place of the dependence, discipline, -subordination, and obedience implanted by former generations that -thought it their duty to drive away all the bumptiousness of -independence! Do you clearly see, my good friends, why I, from the -standpoint of culture, regard the present type of university as a mere -appendage to the public school? The culture instilled by the public -school passes through the gates of the university as something ready -and entire, and with its own particular claims: _it_ demands, it gives -laws, it sits in judgment. Do not, then, let yourselves be deceived in -regard to the cultured student; for he, in so far as he thinks he has -absorbed the blessings of education, is merely the public school boy -as moulded by the hands of his teacher: one who, since his academical -isolation, and after he has left the public school, has therefore been -deprived of all further guidance to culture, that from now on he may -begin to live by himself and be free. - -"Free! Examine this freedom, ye observers of human nature! Erected -upon the sandy, crumbling foundation of our present public school -culture, its building slants to one side, trembling before the -whirlwind's blast. Look at the free student, the herald of -self-culture: guess what his instincts are; explain him from his -needs! How does his culture appear to you when you measure it by three -graduated scales: first, by his need for philosophy; second, by his -instinct for art; and third, by Greek and Roman antiquity as the -incarnate categorical imperative of all culture? - -"Man is so much encompassed about by the most serious and difficult -problems that, when they are brought to his attention in the right -way, he is impelled betimes towards a lasting kind of philosophical -wonder, from which alone, as a fruitful soil, a deep and noble culture -can grow forth. His own experiences lead him most frequently to the -consideration of these problems; and it is especially in the -tempestuous period of youth that every personal event shines with a -double gleam, both as the exemplification of a triviality and, at the -same time, of an eternally surprising problem, deserving of -explanation. At this age, which, as it were, sees his experiences -encircled with metaphysical rainbows, man is, in the highest degree, -in need of a guiding hand, because he has suddenly and almost -instinctively convinced himself of the ambiguity of existence, and has -lost the firm support of the beliefs he has hitherto held. - -"This natural state of great need must of course be looked upon as the -worst enemy of that beloved independence for which the cultured youth -of the present day should be trained. All these sons of the present, -who have raised the banner of the 'self-understood,' are therefore -straining every nerve to crush down these feelings of youth, to -cripple them, to mislead them, or to stop their growth altogether; -and the favourite means employed is to paralyse that natural -philosophic impulse by the so-called "historical culture." A still -recent system,[10] which has won for itself a world-wide scandalous -reputation, has discovered the formula for this self-destruction of -philosophy; and now, wherever the historical view of things is found, -we can see such a naive recklessness in bringing the irrational to -'rationality' and 'reason' and making black look like white, that one -is even inclined to parody Hegel's phrase and ask: 'Is all this -irrationality real?' Ah, it is only the irrational that now seems to -be 'real,' _i.e._ really doing something; and to bring this kind of -reality forward for the elucidation of history is reckoned as true -'historical culture.' It is into this that the philosophical impulse -of our time has pupated itself; and the peculiar philosophers of our -universities seem to have conspired to fortify and confirm the young -academicians in it. - -"It has thus come to pass that, in place of a profound interpretation -of the eternally recurring problems, a historical--yea, even -philological--balancing and questioning has entered into the -educational arena: what this or that philosopher has or has not -thought; whether this or that essay or dialogue is to be ascribed to -him or not; or even whether this particular reading of a classical -text is to be preferred to that. It is to neutral preoccupations with -philosophy like these that our students in philosophical seminaries -are stimulated; whence I have long accustomed myself to regard such -science as a mere ramification of philology, and to value its -representatives in proportion as they are good or bad philologists. So -it has come about that _philosophy itself_ is banished from the -universities: wherewith our first question as to the value of our -universities from the standpoint of culture is answered. - -"In what relationship these universities stand to _art_ cannot be -acknowledged without shame: in none at all. Of artistic thinking, -learning, striving, and comparison, we do not find in them a single -trace; and no one would seriously think that the voice of the -universities would ever be raised to help the advancement of the -higher national schemes of art. Whether an individual teacher feels -himself to be personally qualified for art, or whether a professorial -chair has been established for the training of æstheticising literary -historians, does not enter into the question at all: the fact remains -that the university is not in a position to control the young -academician by severe artistic discipline, and that it must let happen -what happens, willy-nilly--and this is the cutting answer to the -immodest pretensions of the universities to represent themselves as -the highest educational institutions. - -"We find our academical 'independents' growing up without philosophy -and without art; and how can they then have any need to 'go in for' -the Greeks and Romans?--for we need now no longer pretend, like our -forefathers, to have any great regard for Greece and Rome, which, -besides, sit enthroned in almost inaccessible loneliness and majestic -alienation. The universities of the present time consequently give no -heed to almost extinct educational predilections like these, and found -their philological chairs for the training of new and exclusive -generations of philologists, who on their part give similar -philological preparation in the public schools--a vicious circle which -is useful neither to philologists nor to public schools, but which -above all accuses the university for the third time of not being what -it so pompously proclaims itself to be--a training ground for culture. -Take away the Greeks, together with philosophy and art, and what -ladder have you still remaining by which to ascend to culture? For, if -you attempt to clamber up the ladder without these helps, you must -permit me to inform you that all your learning will lie like a heavy -burden on your shoulders rather than furnishing you with wings and -bearing you aloft. - -"If you honest thinkers have honourably remained in these three stages -of intelligence, and have perceived that, in comparison with the -Greeks, the modern student is unsuited to and unprepared for -philosophy, that he has no truly artistic instincts, and is merely a -barbarian believing himself to be free, you will not on this account -turn away from him in disgust, although you will, of course, avoid -coming into too close proximity with him. For, as he now is, _he is -not to blame_: as you have perceived him he is the dumb but terrible -accuser of those who are to blame. - -"You should understand the secret language spoken by this guilty -innocent, and then you, too, would learn to understand the inward -state of that independence which is paraded outwardly with so much -ostentation. Not one of these noble, well-qualified youths has -remained a stranger to that restless, tiring, perplexing, and -debilitating need of culture: during his university term, when he is -apparently the only free man in a crowd of servants and officials, he -atones for this huge illusion of freedom by ever-growing inner doubts -and convictions. He feels that he can neither lead nor help himself; -and then he plunges hopelessly into the workaday world and endeavours -to ward off such feelings by study. The most trivial bustle fastens -itself upon him; he sinks under his heavy burden. Then he suddenly -pulls himself together; he still feels some of that power within him -which would have enabled him to keep his head above water. Pride and -noble resolutions assert themselves and grow in him. He is afraid of -sinking at this early stage into the limits of a narrow profession; -and now he grasps at pillars and railings alongside the stream that he -may not be swept away by the current. In vain! for these supports give -way, and he finds he has clutched at broken reeds. In low and -despondent spirits he sees his plans vanish away in smoke. His -condition is undignified, even dreadful: he keeps between the two -extremes of work at high pressure and a state of melancholy -enervation. Then he becomes tired, lazy, afraid of work, fearful of -everything great; and hating himself. He looks into his own breast, -analyses his faculties, and finds he is only peering into hollow and -chaotic vacuity. And then he once more falls from the heights of his -eagerly-desired self-knowledge into an ironical scepticism. He divests -his struggles of their real importance, and feels himself ready to -undertake any class of useful work, however degrading. He now seeks -consolation in hasty and incessant action so as to hide himself from -himself. And thus his helplessness and the want of a leader towards -culture drive him from one form of life into another: but doubt, -elevation, worry, hope, despair--everything flings him hither and -thither as a proof that all the stars above him by which he could have -guided his ship have set. - -"There you have the picture of this glorious independence of yours, of -that academical freedom, reflected in the highest minds--those which -are truly in need of culture, compared with whom that other crowd of -indifferent natures does not count at all, natures that delight in -their freedom in a purely barbaric sense. For these latter show by -their base smugness and their narrow professional limitations that -this is the right element for them: against which there is nothing to -be said. Their comfort, however, does not counter-balance the -suffering of one single young man who has an inclination for culture -and feels the need of a guiding hand, and who at last, in a moment of -discontent, throws down the reins and begins to despise himself. This -is the guiltless innocent; for who has saddled him with the -unbearable burden of standing alone? Who has urged him on to -independence at an age when one of the most natural and peremptory -needs of youth is, so to speak, a self-surrendering to great leaders -and an enthusiastic following in the footsteps of the masters? - -"It is repulsive to consider the effects to which the violent -suppression of such noble natures may lead. He who surveys the -greatest supporters and friends of that pseudo-culture of the present -time, which I so greatly detest, will only too frequently find among -them such degenerate and shipwrecked men of culture, driven by inward -despair to violent enmity against culture, when, in a moment of -desperation, there was no one at hand to show them how to attain it. -It is not the worst and most insignificant people whom we afterwards -find acting as journalists and writers for the press in the -metamorphosis of despair: the spirit of some well-known men of letters -might even be described, and justly, as degenerate studentdom. How -else, for example, can we reconcile that once well-known 'young -Germany' with its present degenerate successors? Here we discover a -need of culture which, so to speak, has grown mutinous, and which -finally breaks out into the passionate cry: I am culture! There, -before the gates of the public schools and universities, we can see -the culture which has been driven like a fugitive away from these -institutions. True, this culture is without the erudition of those -establishments, but assumes nevertheless the mien of a sovereign; so -that, for example, Gutzkow the novelist might be pointed to as the -best example of a modern public school boy turned æsthete. Such a -degenerate man of culture is a serious matter, and it is a horrifying -spectacle for us to see that all our scholarly and journalistic -publicity bears the stigma of this degeneracy upon it. How else can we -do justice to our learned men, who pay untiring attention to, and even -co-operate in the journalistic corruption of the people, how else than -by the acknowledgment that their learning must fill a want of their -own similar to that filled by novel-writing in the case of others: -_i.e._ a flight from one's self, an ascetic extirpation of their -cultural impulses, a desperate attempt to annihilate their own -individuality. From our degenerate literary art, as also from that -itch for scribbling of our learned men which has now reached such -alarming proportions, wells forth the same sigh: Oh that we could -forget ourselves! The attempt fails: memory, not yet suffocated by the -mountains of printed paper under which it is buried, keeps on -repeating from time to time: 'A degenerate man of culture! Born for -culture and brought up to non-culture! Helpless barbarian, slave of -the day, chained to the present moment, and thirsting for -something--ever thirsting!' - -"Oh, the miserable guilty innocents! For they lack something, a need -that every one of them must have felt: a real educational institution, -which could give them goals, masters, methods, companions; and from -the midst of which the invigorating and uplifting breath of the true -German spirit would inspire them. Thus they perish in the wilderness; -thus they degenerate into enemies of that spirit which is at bottom -closely allied to their own; thus they pile fault upon fault higher -than any former generation ever did, soiling the clean, desecrating -the holy, canonising the false and spurious. It is by them that you -can judge the educational strength of our universities, asking -yourselves, in all seriousness, the question: What cause did you -promote through them? The German power of invention, the noble German -desire for knowledge, the qualifying of the German for diligence and -self-sacrifice--splendid and beautiful things, which other nations -envy you; yea, the finest and most magnificent things in the world, if -only that true German spirit overspread them like a dark thundercloud, -pregnant with the blessing of forthcoming rain. But you are afraid of -this spirit, and it has therefore come to pass that a cloud of another -sort has thrown a heavy and oppressive atmosphere around your -universities, in which your noble-minded scholars breathe wearily and -with difficulty. - -"A tragic, earnest, and instructive attempt was made in the present -century to destroy the cloud I have last referred to, and also to turn -the people's looks in the direction of the high welkin of the German -spirit. In all the annals of our universities we cannot find any trace -of a second attempt, and he who would impressively demonstrate what is -now necessary for us will never find a better example. I refer to the -old, primitive _Burschenschaft_.[11] - -"When the war of liberation was over, the young student brought back -home the unlooked-for and worthiest trophy of battle--the freedom of -his fatherland. Crowned with this laurel he thought of something still -nobler. On returning to the university, and finding that he was -breathing heavily, he became conscious of that oppressive and -contaminated air which overhung the culture of the university. He -suddenly saw, with horror-struck, wide-open eyes, the non-German -barbarism, hiding itself in the guise of all kinds of scholasticism; -he suddenly discovered that his own leaderless comrades were abandoned -to a repulsive kind of youthful intoxication. And he was exasperated. -He rose with the same aspect of proud indignation as Schiller may have -had when reciting the _Robbers_ to his companions: and if he had -prefaced his drama with the picture of a lion, and the motto, 'in -tyrannos,' his follower himself was that very lion preparing to -spring; and every 'tyrant' began to tremble. Yes, if these indignant -youths were looked at superficially and timorously, they would seem to -be little else than Schiller's robbers: their talk sounded so wild to -the anxious listener that Rome and Sparta seemed mere nunneries -compared with these new spirits. The consternation raised by these -young men was indeed far more general than had ever been caused by -those other 'robbers' in court circles, of which a German prince, -according to Goethe, is said to have expressed the opinion: 'If he had -been God, and had foreseen the appearance of the _Robbers_, he would -not have created the world.' - -"Whence came the incomprehensible intensity of this alarm? For those -young men were the bravest, purest, and most talented of the band both -in dress and habits: they were distinguished by a magnanimous -recklessness and a noble simplicity. A divine command bound them -together to seek harder and more pious superiority: what could be -feared from them? To what extent this fear was merely deceptive or -simulated or really true is something that will probably never be -exactly known; but a strong instinct spoke out of this fear and out of -its disgraceful and senseless persecution. This instinct hated the -Burschenschaft with an intense hatred for two reasons: first of all on -account of its organisation, as being the first attempt to construct a -true educational institution, and, secondly, on account of the spirit -of this institution, that earnest, manly, stern, and daring German -spirit; that spirit of the miner's son, Luther, which has come down to -us unbroken from the time of the Reformation. - -"Think of the _fate_ of the Burschenschaft when I ask you, Did the -German university then understand that spirit, as even the German -princes in their hatred appear to have understood it? Did the alma -mater boldly and resolutely throw her protecting arms round her noble -sons and say: 'You must kill me first, before you touch my children?' -I hear your answer--by it you may judge whether the German university -is an educational institution or not. - -"The student knew at that time at what depth a true educational -institution must take root, namely, in an inward renovation and -inspiration of the purest moral faculties. And this must always be -repeated to the student's credit. He may have learnt on the field of -battle what he could learn least of all in the sphere of 'academical -freedom': that great leaders are necessary, and that all culture begins -with obedience. And in the midst of victory, with his thoughts turned to -his liberated fatherland, he made the vow that he would remain German. -German! Now he learnt to understand his Tacitus; now he grasped the -signification of Kant's categorical imperative; now he was enraptured by -Weber's "Lyre and Sword" songs.[12] The gates of philosophy, of art, -yea, even of antiquity, opened unto him; and in one of the most -memorable of bloody acts, the murder of Kotzebue, he revenged--with -penetrating insight and enthusiastic short-sightedness--his one and only -Schiller, prematurely consumed by the opposition of the stupid world: -Schiller, who could have been his leader, master, and organiser, and -whose loss he now bewailed with such heartfelt resentment. - -"For that was the doom of those promising students: they did not find -the leaders they wanted. They gradually became uncertain, -discontented, and at variance among themselves; unlucky indiscretions -showed only too soon that the one indispensability of powerful minds -was lacking in the midst of them: and, while that mysterious murder -gave evidence of astonishing strength, it gave no less evidence of the -grave danger arising from the want of a leader. They were -leaderless--therefore they perished. - -"For I repeat it, my friends! All culture begins with the very -opposite of that which is now so highly esteemed as 'academical -freedom': with obedience, with subordination, with discipline, with -subjection. And as leaders must have followers so also must the -followers have a leader--here a certain reciprocal predisposition -prevails in the hierarchy of spirits: yea, a kind of pre-established -harmony. This eternal hierarchy, towards which all things naturally -tend, is always threatened by that pseudo-culture which now sits on -the throne of the present. It endeavours either to bring the leaders -down to the level of its own servitude or else to cast them out -altogether. It seduces the followers when they are seeking their -predestined leader, and overcomes them by the fumes of its narcotics. -When, however, in spite of all this, leader and followers have at last -met, wounded and sore, there is an impassioned feeling of rapture, -like the echo of an ever-sounding lyre, a feeling which I can let you -divine only by means of a simile. - -"Have you ever, at a musical rehearsal, looked at the strange, -shrivelled-up, good-natured species of men who usually form the German -orchestra? What changes and fluctuations we see in that capricious -goddess 'form'! What noses and ears, what clumsy, _danse macabre_ -movements! Just imagine for a moment that you were deaf, and had never -dreamed of the existence of sound or music, and that you were looking -upon the orchestra as a company of actors, and trying to enjoy their -performance as a drama and nothing more. Undisturbed by the idealising -effect of the sound, you could never see enough of the stern, -medieval, wood-cutting movement of this comical spectacle, this -harmonious parody on the _homo sapiens_. - -"Now, on the other hand, assume that your musical sense has returned, -and that your ears are opened. Look at the honest conductor at the -head of the orchestra performing his duties in a dull, spiritless -fashion: you no longer think of the comical aspect of the whole scene, -you listen--but it seems to you that the spirit of tediousness spreads -out from the honest conductor over all his companions. Now you see -only torpidity and flabbiness, you hear only the trivial, the -rhythmically inaccurate, and the melodiously trite. You see the -orchestra only as an indifferent, ill-humoured, and even wearisome -crowd of players. - -"But set a genius--a real genius--in the midst of this crowd; and you -instantly perceive something almost incredible. It is as if this -genius, in his lightning transmigration, had entered into these -mechanical, lifeless bodies, and as if only one demoniacal eye gleamed -forth out of them all. Now look and listen--you can never listen -enough! When you again observe the orchestra, now loftily storming, -now fervently wailing, when you notice the quick tightening of every -muscle and the rhythmical necessity of every gesture, then you too -will feel what a pre-established harmony there is between leader and -followers, and how in the hierarchy of spirits everything impels us -towards the establishment of a like organisation. You can divine from -my simile what I would understand by a true educational institution, -and why I am very far from recognising one in the present type of -university." - - [From a few MS. notes written down by Nietzsche in the spring - and autumn of 1872, and still preserved in the Nietzsche - Archives at Weimar, it is evident that he at one time - intended to add a sixth and seventh lecture to the five just - given. These notes, although included in the latest edition - of Nietzsche's works, are utterly lacking in interest and - continuity, being merely headings and sub-headings of - sections in the proposed lectures. They do not, indeed, - occupy more than two printed pages, and were deemed too - fragmentary for translation in this edition.] - -FOOTNOTES: - -[9] The reader may be reminded that a German university student is -subject to very few restrictions, and that much greater liberty is -allowed him than is permitted to English students. Nietzsche did not -approve of this extraordinary freedom, which, in his opinion, led to -intellectual lawlessness.--TR. - -[10] Hegel's.--TR. - -[11] A German students' association, of liberal principles, founded -for patriotic purposes at Jena in 1813. - -[12] Weber set one or two of Körner's "Lyre and Sword" songs to music. -The reader will remember that these lectures were delivered when -Nietzsche was only in his twenty-eighth year. Like Goethe, he -afterwards freed himself from all patriotic trammels and prejudices, -and aimed at a general European culture. Luther, Schiller, Kant, -Körner, and Weber did not continue to be the objects of his veneration -for long, indeed, they were afterwards violently attacked by him, and -the superficial student who speaks of inconsistency may be reminded of -Nietzsche's phrase in stanza 12 of the epilogue to _Beyond Good and -Evil_: "Nur wer sich wandelt, bleibt mit mir verwandt"; _i.e._ only -the changing ones have anything in common with me.--TR. - - * * * * * - - - - -HOMER AND CLASSICAL PHILOLOGY. - -(_Inaugural Address delivered at Bâle University, 28th of May 1869._) - - -At the present day no clear and consistent opinion seems to be held -regarding Classical Philology. We are conscious of this in the circles -of the learned just as much as among the followers of that science -itself. The cause of this lies in its many-sided character, in the lack -of an abstract unity, and in the inorganic aggregation of heterogeneous -scientific activities which are connected with one another only by the -name "Philology." It must be freely admitted that philology is to some -extent borrowed from several other sciences, and is mixed together like -a magic potion from the most outlandish liquors, ores, and bones. It may -even be added that it likewise conceals within itself an artistic -element, one which, on æsthetic and ethical grounds, may be called -imperatival--an element that acts in opposition to its purely scientific -behaviour. Philology is composed of history just as much as of natural -science or æsthetics: history, in so far as it endeavours to comprehend -the manifestations of the individualities of peoples in ever new -images, and the prevailing law in the disappearance of phenomena; -natural science, in so far as it strives to fathom the deepest instinct -of man, that of speech; æsthetics, finally, because from various -antiquities at our disposal it endeavours to pick out the so-called -"classical" antiquity, with the view and pretension of excavating the -ideal world buried under it, and to hold up to the present the mirror of -the classical and everlasting standards. That these wholly different -scientific and æsthetico-ethical impulses have been associated under a -common name, a kind of sham monarchy, is shown especially by the fact -that philology at every period from its origin onwards was at the same -time pedagogical. From the standpoint of the pedagogue, a choice was -offered of those elements which were of the greatest educational value; -and thus that science, or at least that scientific aim, which we call -philology, gradually developed out of the practical calling originated -by the exigencies of that science itself. - -These philological aims were pursued sometimes with greater ardour and -sometimes with less, in accordance with the degree of culture and the -development of the taste of a particular period; but, on the other hand, -the followers of this science are in the habit of regarding the aims -which correspond to their several abilities as _the_ aims of philology; -whence it comes about that the estimation of philology in public opinion -depends upon the weight of the personalities of the philologists! - -At the present time--that is to say, in a period which has seen men -distinguished in almost every department of philology--a general -uncertainty of judgment has increased more and more, and likewise a -general relaxation of interest and participation in philological -problems. Such an undecided and imperfect state of public opinion is -damaging to a science in that its hidden and open enemies can work with -much better prospects of success. And philology has a great many such -enemies. Where do we not meet with them, these mockers, always ready to -aim a blow at the philological "moles," the animals that practise -dust-eating _ex professo_, and that grub up and eat for the eleventh -time what they have already eaten ten times before. For opponents of -this sort, however, philology is merely a useless, harmless, and -inoffensive pastime, an object of laughter and not of hate. But, on the -other hand, there is a boundless and infuriated hatred of philology -wherever an ideal, as such, is feared, where the modern man falls down -to worship himself, and where Hellenism is looked upon as a superseded -and hence very insignificant point of view. Against these enemies, we -philologists must always count upon the assistance of artists and men of -artistic minds; for they alone can judge how the sword of barbarism -sweeps over the head of every one who loses sight of the unutterable -simplicity and noble dignity of the Hellene; and how no progress in -commerce or technical industries, however brilliant, no school -regulations, no political education of the masses, however widespread -and complete, can protect us from the curse of ridiculous and barbaric -offences against good taste, or from annihilation by the Gorgon head of -the classicist. - -Whilst philology as a whole is looked on with jealous eyes by these two -classes of opponents, there are numerous and varied hostilities in other -directions of philology; philologists themselves are quarrelling with -one another; internal dissensions are caused by useless disputes about -precedence and mutual jealousies, but especially by the -differences--even enmities--comprised in the name of philology, which -are not, however, by any means naturally harmonised instincts. - -Science has this in common with art, that the most ordinary, everyday -thing appears to it as something entirely new and attractive, as if -metamorphosed by witchcraft and now seen for the first time. Life is -worth living, says art, the beautiful temptress; life is worth knowing, -says science. With this contrast the so heartrending and dogmatic -tradition follows in a _theory_, and consequently in the practice of -classical philology derived from this theory. We may consider antiquity -from a scientific point of view; we may try to look at what has happened -with the eye of a historian, or to arrange and compare the linguistic -forms of ancient masterpieces, to bring them at all events under a -morphological law; but we always lose the wonderful creative force, the -real fragrance, of the atmosphere of antiquity; we forget that -passionate emotion which instinctively drove our meditation and -enjoyment back to the Greeks. From this point onwards we must take -notice of a clearly determined and very surprising antagonism which -philology has great cause to regret. From the circles upon whose help we -must place the most implicit reliance--the artistic friends of -antiquity, the warm supporters of Hellenic beauty and noble -simplicity--we hear harsh voices crying out that it is precisely the -philologists themselves who are the real opponents and destroyers of the -ideals of antiquity. Schiller upbraided the philologists with having -scattered Homer's laurel crown to the winds. It was none other than -Goethe who, in early life a supporter of Wolf's theories regarding -Homer, recanted in the verses-- - - With subtle wit you took away - Our former adoration: - The Iliad, you may us say, - Was mere conglomeration. - Think it not crime in any way: - Youth's fervent adoration - Leads us to know the verity, - And feel the poet's unity. - -The reason of this want of piety and reverence must lie deeper; and many -are in doubt as to whether philologists are lacking in artistic capacity -and impressions, so that they are unable to do justice to the ideal, or -whether the spirit of negation has become a destructive and iconoclastic -principle of theirs. When, however, even the friends of antiquity, -possessed of such doubts and hesitations, point to our present classical -philology as something questionable, what influence may we not ascribe -to the outbursts of the "realists" and the claptrap of the heroes of the -passing hour? To answer the latter on this occasion, especially when we -consider the nature of the present assembly, would be highly -injudicious; at any rate, if I do not wish to meet with the fate of -that sophist who, when in Sparta, publicly undertook to praise and -defend Herakles, when he was interrupted with the query: "But who then -has found fault with him?" I cannot help thinking, however, that some of -these scruples are still sounding in the ears of not a few in this -gathering; for they may still be frequently heard from the lips of noble -and artistically gifted men--as even an upright philologist must feel -them, and feel them most painfully, at moments when his spirits are -downcast. For the single individual there is no deliverance from the -dissensions referred to; but what we contend and inscribe on our banner -is the fact that classical philology, as a whole, has nothing whatsoever -to do with the quarrels and bickerings of its individual disciples. The -entire scientific and artistic movement of this peculiar centaur is -bent, though with cyclopic slowness, upon bridging over the gulf between -the ideal antiquity--which is perhaps only the magnificent blossoming of -the Teutonic longing for the south--and the real antiquity; and thus -classical philology pursues only the final end of its own being, which -is the fusing together of primarily hostile impulses that have only -forcibly been brought together. Let us talk as we will about the -unattainability of this goal, and even designate the goal itself as an -illogical pretension--the aspiration for it is very real; and I should -like to try to make it clear by an example that the most significant -steps of classical philology never lead away from the ideal antiquity, -but to it; and that, just when people are speaking unwarrantably of the -overthrow of sacred shrines, new and more worthy altars are being -erected. Let us then examine the so-called _Homeric question_ from this -standpoint, a question the most important problem of which Schiller -called a scholastic barbarism. - -The important problem referred to is _the question of the personality of -Homer_. - -We now meet everywhere with the firm opinion that the question of -Homer's personality is no longer timely, and that it is quite a -different thing from the real "Homeric question." It may be added that, -for a given period--such as our present philological period, for -example--the centre of discussion may be removed from the problem of the -poet's personality; for even now a painstaking experiment is being made -to reconstruct the Homeric poems without the aid of personality, -treating them as the work of several different persons. But if the -centre of a scientific question is rightly seen to be where the swelling -tide of new views has risen up, i.e. where individual scientific -investigation comes into contact with the whole life of science and -culture--if any one, in other words, indicates a historico-cultural -valuation as the central point of the question, he must also, in the -province of Homeric criticism, take his stand upon the question of -personality as being the really fruitful oasis in the desert of the -whole argument. For in Homer the modern world, I will not say has -learnt, but has examined, a great historical point of view; and, even -without now putting forward my own opinion as to whether this -examination has been or can be happily carried out, it was at all -events the first example of the application of that productive point of -view. By it scholars learnt to recognise condensed beliefs in the -apparently firm, immobile figures of the life of ancient peoples; by it -they for the first time perceived the wonderful capability of the soul -of a people to represent the conditions of its morals and beliefs in the -form of a personality. When historical criticism has confidently seized -upon this method of evaporating apparently concrete personalities, it is -permissible to point to the first experiment as an important event in -the history of sciences, without considering whether it was successful -in this instance or not. - -It is a common occurrence for a series of striking signs and wonderful -emotions to precede an epoch-making discovery. Even the experiment I -have just referred to has its own attractive history; but it goes back -to a surprisingly ancient era. Friedrich August Wolf has exactly -indicated the spot where Greek antiquity dropped the question. The -zenith of the historico-literary studies of the Greeks, and hence also -of their point of greatest importance--the Homeric question--was reached -in the age of the Alexandrian grammarians. Up to this time the Homeric -question had run through the long chain of a uniform process of -development, of which the standpoint of those grammarians seemed to be -the last link, the last, indeed, which was attainable by antiquity. They -conceived the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ as the creations of _one single_ -Homer; they declared it to be psychologically possible for two such -different works to have sprung from the brain of _one_ genius, in -contradiction to the Chorizontes, who represented the extreme limit of -the scepticism of a few detached individuals of antiquity rather than -antiquity itself considered as a whole. To explain the different general -impression of the two books on the assumption that _one_ poet composed -them both, scholars sought assistance by referring to the seasons of the -poet's life, and compared the poet of the _Odyssey_ to the setting sun. -The eyes of those critics were tirelessly on the lookout for -discrepancies in the language and thoughts of the two poems; but at this -time also a history of the Homeric poem and its tradition was prepared, -according to which these discrepancies were not due to Homer, but -to those who committed his words to writing and those who sang them. It -was believed that Homer's poem was passed from one generation to another -_viva voce_, and faults were attributed to the improvising and at times -forgetful bards. At a certain given date, about the time of Pisistratus, -the poems which had been repeated orally were said to have been -collected in manuscript form; but the scribes, it is added, allowed -themselves to take some liberties with the text by transposing some -lines and adding extraneous matter here and there. This entire -hypothesis is the most important in the domain of literary studies that -antiquity has exhibited; and the acknowledgment of the dissemination of -the Homeric poems by word of mouth, as opposed to the habits of a -book-learned age, shows in particular a depth of ancient sagacity worthy -of our admiration. From those times until the generation that produced -Friedrich August Wolf we must take a jump over a long historical vacuum; -but in our own age we find the argument left just as it was at the time -when the power of controversy departed from antiquity, and it is a -matter of indifference to us that Wolf accepted as certain tradition -what antiquity itself had set up only as a hypothesis. It may be -remarked as most characteristic of this hypothesis that, in the -strictest sense, the personality of Homer is treated seriously; that a -certain standard of inner harmony is everywhere presupposed in the -manifestations of the personality; and that, with these two excellent -auxiliary hypotheses, whatever is seen to be below this standard and -opposed to this inner harmony is at once swept aside as un-Homeric. But -even this distinguishing characteristic, in place of wishing to -recognise the supernatural existence of a tangible personality, ascends -likewise through all the stages that lead to that zenith, with -ever-increasing energy and clearness. Individuality is ever more -strongly felt and accentuated; the psychological possibility of a -_single_ Homer is ever more forcibly demanded. If we descend backwards -from this zenith, step by step, we find a guide to the understanding of -the Homeric problem in the person of Aristotle. Homer was for him the -flawless and untiring artist who knew his end and the means to attain -it; but there is still a trace of infantile criticism to be found in -Aristotle--i.e., in the naive concession he made to the public opinion -that considered Homer as the author of the original of all comic epics, -the _Margites_. If we go still further backwards from Aristotle, the -inability to create a personality is seen to increase; more and more -poems are attributed to Homer; and every period lets us see its degree -of criticism by how much and what it considers as Homeric. In this -backward examination, we instinctively feel that away beyond Herodotus -there lies a period in which an immense flood of great epics has been -identified with the name of Homer. - -Let us imagine ourselves as living in the time of Pisistratus: the word -"Homer" then comprehended an abundance of dissimilarities. What was -meant by "Homer" at that time? It is evident that that generation found -itself unable to grasp a personality and the limits of its -manifestations. Homer had now become of small consequence. And then we -meet with the weighty question: What lies before this period? Has -Homer's personality, because it cannot be grasped, gradually faded away -into an empty name? Or had all the Homeric poems been gathered together -in a body, the nation naively representing itself by the figure of -Homer? _Was the person created out of a conception, or the conception -out of a person?_ This is the real "Homeric question," the central -problem of the personality. - -The difficulty of answering this question, however, is increased when we -seek a reply in another direction, from the standpoint of the poems -themselves which have come down to us. As it is difficult for us at the -present day, and necessitates a serious effort on our part, to -understand the law of gravitation clearly--that the earth alters its -form of motion when another heavenly body changes its position in space, -although no material connection unites one to the other--it likewise -costs us some trouble to obtain a clear impression of that wonderful -problem which, like a coin long passed from hand to hand, has lost its -original and highly conspicuous stamp. Poetical works, which cause the -hearts of even the greatest geniuses to fail when they endeavour to vie -with them, and in which unsurpassable images are held up for the -admiration of posterity--and yet the poet who wrote them with only a -hollow, shaky name, whenever we do lay hold on him; nowhere the solid -kernel of a powerful personality. "For who would wage war with the gods: -who, even with the one god?" asks Goethe even, who, though a genius, -strove in vain to solve that mysterious problem of the Homeric -inaccessibility. - -The conception of popular poetry seemed to lead like a bridge over this -problem--a deeper and more original power than that of every single -creative individual was said to have become active; the happiest people, -in the happiest period of its existence, in the highest activity of -fantasy and formative power, was said to have created those immeasurable -poems. In this universality there is something almost intoxicating in -the thought of a popular poem: we feel, with artistic pleasure, the -broad, overpowering liberation of a popular gift, and we delight in this -natural phenomenon as we do in an uncontrollable cataract. But as soon -as we examine this thought at close quarters, we involuntarily put a -poetic _mass of people_ in the place of the poetising _soul of the -people_: a long row of popular poets in whom individuality has no -meaning, and in whom the tumultuous movement of a people's soul, the -intuitive strength of a people's eye, and the unabated profusion of a -people's fantasy, were once powerful: a row of original geniuses, -attached to a time, to a poetic genus, to a subject-matter. - -Such a conception justly made people suspicious. Could it be possible -that that same Nature who so sparingly distributed her rarest and most -precious production--genius--should suddenly take the notion of -lavishing her gifts in one sole direction? And here the thorny question -again made its appearance: Could we not get along with one genius only, -and explain the present existence of that unattainable excellence? And -now eyes were keenly on the lookout for whatever that excellence and -singularity might consist of. Impossible for it to be in the -construction of the complete works, said one party, for this is far from -faultless; but doubtless to be found in single songs: in the single -pieces above all; not in the whole. A second party, on the other hand, -sheltered themselves beneath the authority of Aristotle, who especially -admired Homer's "divine" nature in the choice of his entire subject, and -the manner in which he planned and carried it out. If, however, this -construction was not clearly seen, this fault was due to the way the -poems were handed down to posterity and not to the poet himself--it was -the result of retouchings and interpolations, owing to which the -original setting of the work gradually became obscured. The more the -first school looked for inequalities, contradictions, perplexities, the -more energetically did the other school brush aside what in their -opinion obscured the original plan, in order, if possible, that nothing -might be left remaining but the actual words of the original epic -itself. The second school of thought of course held fast by the -conception of an epoch-making genius as the composer of the great works. -The first school, on the other hand, wavered between the supposition of -one genius plus a number of minor poets, and another hypothesis which -assumed only a number of superior and even mediocre individual bards, -but also postulated a mysterious discharging, a deep, national, artistic -impulse, which shows itself in individual minstrels as an almost -indifferent medium. It is to this latter school that we must attribute -the representation of the Homeric poems as the expression of that -mysterious impulse. - -All these schools of thought start from the assumption that the problem -of the present form of these epics can be solved from the standpoint of -an æsthetic judgment--but we must await the decision as to the -authorised line of demarcation between the man of genius and the -poetical soul of the people. Are there characteristic differences -between the utterances of the _man of genius_ and the _poetical soul of -the people_? - -This whole contrast, however, is unjust and misleading. There is no -more dangerous assumption in modern æsthetics than that of _popular -poetry_ and _individual poetry_, or, as it is usually called, _artistic -poetry_. This is the reaction, or, if you will, the superstition, which -followed upon the most momentous discovery of historico-philological -science, the discovery and appreciation of the _soul of the people_. For -this discovery prepared the way for a coming scientific view of history, -which was until then, and in many respects is even now, a mere -collection of materials, with the prospect that new materials would -continue to be added, and that the huge, overflowing pile would never be -systematically arranged. The people now understood for the first time -that the long-felt power of greater individualities and wills was larger -than the pitifully small will of an individual man;[1] they now saw that -everything truly great in the kingdom of the will could not have its -deepest root in the inefficacious and ephemeral individual will; and, -finally, they now discovered the powerful instincts of the masses, and -diagnosed those unconscious impulses to be the foundations and supports -of the so-called universal history. But the newly-lighted flame also -cast its shadow: and this shadow was none other than that superstition -already referred to, which popular poetry set up in opposition to -individual poetry, and thus enlarged the comprehension of the people's -soul to that of the people's mind. By the misapplication of a tempting -analogical inference, people had reached the point of applying in the -domain of the intellect and artistic ideas that principle of greater -individuality which is truly applicable only in the domain of the will. -The masses have never experienced more flattering treatment than in thus -having the laurel of genius set upon their empty heads. It was imagined -that new shells were forming round a small kernel, so to speak, and that -those pieces of popular poetry originated like avalanches, in the drift -and flow of tradition. They were, however, ready to consider that kernel -as being of the smallest possible dimensions, so that they might -occasionally get rid of it altogether without losing anything of the -mass of the avalanche. According to this view, the text itself and the -stories built round it are one and the same thing. - -[1] Of course Nietzsche saw afterwards that this was not so.--TR. - -Now, however, such a contrast between popular poetry and individual -poetry does not exist at all; on the contrary, all poetry, and of course -popular poetry also, requires an intermediary individuality. This -much-abused contrast, therefore, is necessary only when the term -_individual poem_ is understood to mean a poem which has not grown out -of the soil of popular feeling, but which has been composed by a -non-popular poet in a non-popular atmosphere--something which has come -to maturity in the study of a learned man, for example. - -With the superstition which presupposes poetising masses is connected -another: that popular poetry is limited to one particular period of a -people's history and afterwards dies out--which indeed follows as a -consequence of the first superstition I have mentioned. According to -this school, in the place of the gradually decaying popular poetry we -have artistic poetry, the work of individual minds, not of masses of -people. But the same powers which were once active are still so; and the -form in which they act has remained exactly the same. The great poet of -a literary period is still a popular poet in no narrower sense than the -popular poet of an illiterate age. The difference between them is not in -the way they originate, but it is their diffusion and propagation, in -short, _tradition_. This tradition is exposed to eternal danger without -the help of handwriting, and runs the risk of including in the poems the -remains of those individualities through whose oral tradition they were -handed down. - -If we apply all these principles to the Homeric poems, it follows that -we gain nothing with our theory of the poetising soul of the people, and -that we are always referred back to the poetical individual. We are thus -confronted with the task of distinguishing that which can have -originated only in a single poetical mind from that which is, so to -speak, swept up by the tide of oral tradition, and which is a highly -important constituent part of the Homeric poems. - -Since literary history first ceased to be a mere collection of names, -people have attempted to grasp and formulate the individualities of the -poets. A certain mechanism forms part of the method: it must be -explained--i.e., it must be deduced from principles--why this or that -individuality appears in this way and not in that. People now study -biographical details, environment, acquaintances, contemporary events, -and believe that by mixing all these ingredients together they will be -able to manufacture the wished-for individuality. But they forget that -the _punctum saliens_, the indefinable individual characteristics, can -never be obtained from a compound of this nature. The less there is -known about the life and times of the poet, the less applicable is this -mechanism. When, however, we have merely the works and the name of the -writer, it is almost impossible to detect the individuality, at all -events, for those who put their faith in the mechanism in question; and -particularly when the works are perfect, when they are pieces of popular -poetry. For the best way for these mechanicians to grasp individual -characteristics is by perceiving deviations from the genius of the -people; the aberrations and hidden allusions: and the fewer -discrepancies to be found in a poem the fainter will be the traces of -the individual poet who composed it. - -All those deviations, everything dull and below the ordinary standard -which scholars think they perceive in the Homeric poems, were attributed -to tradition, which thus became the scapegoat. What was left of Homer's -own individual work? Nothing but a series of beautiful and prominent -passages chosen in accordance with subjective taste. The sum total of -æsthetic singularity which every individual scholar perceived with his -own artistic gifts, he now called Homer. - -This is the central point of the Homeric errors. The name of Homer, from -the very beginning, has no connection either with the conception of -æsthetic perfection or yet with the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_. Homer as -the composer of the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ is not a historical -tradition, but an _æsthetic judgment_. - -The only path which leads back beyond the time of Pisistratus and helps -us to elucidate the meaning of the name Homer, takes its way on the one -hand through the reports which have reached us concerning Homer's -birthplace: from which we see that, although his name is always -associated with heroic epic poems, he is on the other hand no more -referred to as the composer of the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ than as the -author of the _Thebais_ or any other cyclical epic. On the other hand, -again, an old tradition tells of the contest between Homer and Hesiod, -which proves that when these two names were mentioned people -instinctively thought of two epic tendencies, the heroic and the -didactic; and that the signification of the name "Homer" was included in -the material category and not in the formal. This imaginary contest with -Hesiod did not even yet show the faintest presentiment of individuality. -From the time of Pisistratus onwards, however, with the surprisingly -rapid development of the Greek feeling for beauty, the differences in -the æsthetic value of those epics continued to be felt more and more: -the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ arose from the depths of the flood and -have remained on the surface ever since. With this process of æsthetic -separation, the conception of Homer gradually became narrower: the old -material meaning of the name "Homer" as the father of the heroic epic -poem, was changed into the æsthetic meaning of Homer, the father of -poetry in general, and likewise its original prototype. This -transformation was contemporary with the rationalistic criticism which -made Homer the magician out to be a possible poet, which vindicated the -material and formal traditions of those numerous epics as against the -unity of the poet, and gradually removed that heavy load of cyclical -epics from Homer's shoulders. - -So Homer, the poet of the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_, is an æsthetic -judgment. It is, however, by no means affirmed against the poet of these -epics that he was merely the imaginary being of an æsthetic -impossibility, which can be the opinion of only very few philologists -indeed. The majority contend that a single individual was responsible -for the general design of a poem such as the _Iliad_, and further that -this individual was Homer. The first part of this contention may be -admitted; but, in accordance with what I have said, the latter part must -be denied. And I very much doubt whether the majority of those who adopt -the first part of the contention have taken the following considerations -into account. - -The design of an epic such as the _Iliad_ is not an entire _whole_, not -an organism; but a number of pieces strung together, a collection of -reflections arranged in accordance with æsthetic rules. It is certainly -the standard of an artist's greatness to note what he can take in with a -single glance and set out in rhythmical form. The infinite profusion of -images and incidents in the Homeric epic must force us to admit that -such a wide range of vision is next to impossible. Where, however, a -poet is unable to observe artistically with a single glance, he usually -piles conception on conception, and endeavours to adjust his characters -according to a comprehensive scheme. - -He will succeed in this all the better the more he is familiar with the -fundamental principles of æsthetics: he will even make some believe -that he made himself master of the entire subject by a single powerful -glance. - -The _Iliad_ is not a garland, but a bunch of flowers. As many pictures -as possible are crowded on one canvas; but the man who placed them there -was indifferent as to whether the grouping of the collected pictures was -invariably suitable and rhythmically beautiful. He well knew that no one -would ever consider the collection as a whole; but would merely look at -the individual parts. But that stringing together of some pieces as the -manifestations of a grasp of art which was not yet highly developed, -still less thoroughly comprehended and generally esteemed, cannot have -been the real Homeric deed, the real Homeric epoch-making event. On the -contrary, this design is a later product, far later than Homer's -celebrity. Those, therefore, who look for the "original and perfect -design" are looking for a mere phantom; for the dangerous path of oral -tradition had reached its end just as the systematic arrangement -appeared on the scene; the disfigurements which were caused on the way -could not have affected the design, for this did not form part of the -material handed down from generation to generation. - -The relative imperfection of the design must not, however, prevent us -from seeing in the designer a different personality from the real poet. -It is not only probable that everything which was created in those times -with conscious æsthetic insight, was infinitely inferior to the songs -that sprang up naturally in the poet's mind and were written down with -instinctive power: we can even take a step further. If we include the -so-called cyclic poems in this comparison, there remains for the -designer of the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ the indisputable merit of -having done something relatively great in this conscious technical -composing: a merit which we might have been prepared to recognise from -the beginning, and which is in my opinion of the very first order in the -domain of instinctive creation. We may even be ready to pronounce this -synthetisation of great importance. All those dull passages and -discrepancies--deemed of such importance, but really only subjective, -which we usually look upon as the petrified remains of the period of -tradition--are not these perhaps merely the almost necessary evils which -must fall to the lot of the poet of genius who undertakes a composition -virtually without a parallel, and, further, one which proves to be of -incalculable difficulty? - -Let it be noted that the insight into the most diverse operations of the -instinctive and the conscious changes the position of the Homeric -problem; and in my opinion throws light upon it. - -We believe in a great poet as the author of the _Iliad_ and the -_Odyssey--but not that Homer was this poet_. - -The decision on this point has already been given. The generation that -invented those numerous Homeric fables, that poetised the myth of the -contest between Homer and Hesiod, and looked upon all the poems of the -epic cycle as Homeric, did not feel an æsthetic but a material -singularity when it pronounced the name "Homer." This period regards -Homer as belonging to the ranks of artists like Orpheus, Eumolpus, -Dædalus, and Olympus, the mythical discoverers of a new branch of art, -to whom, therefore, all the later fruits which grew from the new branch -were thankfully dedicated. - -And that wonderful genius to whom we owe the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ -belongs to this thankful posterity: he, too, sacrificed his name on the -altar of the primeval father of the Homeric epic, Homeros. - -Up to this point, gentlemen, I think I have been able to put before you -the fundamental philosophical and æsthetic characteristics of the -problem of the personality of Homer, keeping all minor details -rigorously at a distance, on the supposition that the primary form of -this widespread and honeycombed mountain known as the Homeric question -can be most clearly observed by looking down at it from a far-off -height. But I have also, I imagine, recalled two facts to those friends -of antiquity who take such delight in accusing us philologists of lack -of piety for great conceptions and an unproductive zeal for -destruction. In the first place, those "great" conceptions--such, for -example, as that of the indivisible and inviolable poetic genius, -Homer--were during the pre-Wolfian period only too great, and hence -inwardly altogether empty and elusive when we now try to grasp them. If -classical philology goes back again to the same conceptions, and once -more tries to pour new wine into old bottles, it is only on the surface -that the conceptions are the same: everything has really become new; -bottle and mind, wine and word. We everywhere find traces of the fact -that philology has lived in company with poets, thinkers, and artists -for the last hundred years: whence it has now come about that the heap -of ashes formerly pointed to as classical philology is now turned into -fruitful and even rich soil.[2] - -[2] Nietzsche perceived later on that this statement was, -unfortunately, not justified.--TR. - -And there is a second fact which I should like to recall to the memory -of those friends of antiquity who turn their dissatisfied backs on -classical philology. You honour the immortal masterpieces of the -Hellenic mind in poetry and sculpture, and think yourselves so much more -fortunate than preceding generations, which had to do without them; but -you must not forget that this whole fairyland once lay buried under -mountains of prejudice, and that the blood and sweat and arduous labour -of innumerable followers of our science were all necessary to lift up -that world from the chasm into which it had sunk. We grant that -philology is not the creator of this world, not the composer of that -immortal music; but is it not a merit, and a great merit, to be a mere -virtuoso, and let the world for the first time hear that music which lay -so long in obscurity, despised and undecipherable? Who was Homer -previously to Wolf's brilliant investigations? A good old man, known at -best as a "natural genius," at all events the child of a barbaric age, -replete with faults against good taste and good morals. Let us hear how -a learned man of the first rank writes about Homer even so late as 1783: -"Where does the good man live? Why did he remain so long incognito? -Apropos, can't you get me a silhouette of him?" - -We demand _thanks_--not in our own name, for we are but atoms--but in -the name of philology itself, which is indeed neither a Muse nor a -Grace, but a messenger of the gods: and just as the Muses descended upon -the dull and tormented Boeotian peasants, so Philology comes into a -world full of gloomy colours and pictures, full of the deepest, most -incurable woes; and speaks to men comfortingly of the beautiful and -godlike figure of a distant, rosy, and happy fairyland. - -It is time to close; yet before I do so a few words of a personal -character must be added, justified, I hope, by the occasion of this -lecture. - -It is but right that a philologist should describe his end and the means -to it in the short formula of a confession of faith; and let this be -done in the saying of Seneca which I thus reverse-- - - "Philosophia facta est quæ philologia fuit." - -By this I wish to signify that all philological activities should be -enclosed and surrounded by a philosophical view of things, in which -everything individual and isolated is evaporated as something -detestable, and in which great homogeneous views alone remain. Now, -therefore, that I have enunciated my philological creed, I trust you -will give me cause to hope that I shall no longer be a stranger among -you: give me the assurance that in working with you towards this end I -am worthily fulfilling the confidence with which the highest authorities -of this community have honoured me. - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of On the Future of our Educational -Institutions - Homer and Classic, by Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51580 *** diff --git a/old/51580-h/51580-h.htm b/old/51580-h/51580-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 7e42897..0000000 --- a/old/51580-h/51580-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4483 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of On the Future of Our Educational Institutions and Homer and Classical Philology, by Friedrich Nietzsche. - </title> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} -.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%} -hr.full {width: 95%;} - -hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;} -hr.r65 {width: 65%; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - color: #CCCCCC; -} /* page numbers */ - - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -a:link {color: #800000; text-decoration: none; } - -v:link {color: #800000; text-decoration: none; } - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.figleft { - float: left; - clear: left; - margin-left: 0; - margin-bottom: 1em; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-right: 1em; - padding: 0; - text-align: center; -} - -.figright { - float: right; - clear: right; - margin-left: 1em; - margin-bottom: - 1em; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-right: 0; - padding: 0; - text-align: center; -} - -/* Footnotes */ -.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} - -.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} - -.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: - none; -} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51580 ***</div> - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="550" alt="" /> -</div> -<h1>ON THE FUTURE OF OUR</h1> - -<h1>EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS</h1> - -<h1>HOMER AND CLASSICAL PHILOLOGY</h1> - -<h3>By</h3> - -<h2>FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE</h2> - - -<h4>TRANSLATED, WITH INTRODUCTION, BY</h4> - -<h4>J.M. KENNEDY</h4> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> -<img src="images/ill_niet.jpg" width="150" alt="" /> -</div> - -<h4>The Complete Works of Friedrich Nietzsche</h4> - -<h5>The First Complete and Authorised English Translation</h5> - -<h4>Edited by Dr Oscar Levy</h4> - -<h4>Volume Three</h4> - - -<h5>T.N. FOULIS</h5> - -<h5>13 & 15 FREDERICK STREET</h5> - -<h5>EDINBURGH: AND LONDON</h5> - -<h5>1909</h5> -<hr class="full" /> - - - - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em;"> -<span class="caption">CONTENTS</span><br /> -<a href="#TRANSLATORS_INTRODUCTION">TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION</a><br /> -<a href="#PREFACE">AUTHOR'S PREFACE</a><br /> -<a href="#INTRODUCTION">AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION</a><br /> -<a href="#THE_FUTURE_OF_OUR_EDUCATIONAL_INSTITUTIONS">THE FUTURE OF OUR EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS</a><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><a href="#FIRST_LECTURE">FIRST LECTURE</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><a href="#SECOND_LECTURE">SECOND LECTURE</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><a href="#THIRD_LECTURE">THIRD LECTURE</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><a href="#FOURTH_LECTURE">FOURTH LECTURE</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><a href="#FIFTH_LECTURE">FIFTH LECTURE</a></span><br /> -<a href="#HOMER_AND_CLASSICAL_PHILOLOGY">HOMER AND CLASSICAL PHILOLOGY</a><br /> -</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="TRANSLATORS_INTRODUCTION" id="TRANSLATORS_INTRODUCTION">TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION.</a></h4> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> - - -<p>"On the Future of our Educational Institutions" comprehends a series -of five lectures delivered by Nietzsche when Professor of Classical -Philology at Băle University. As they were prepared when he was only -twenty-seven years of age, we can scarcely expect to find in them that -broad, "good European" point of view which we meet with in his later -works. These lectures, however, are not only highly interesting in -themselves; but indispensable for those who wish to trace the gradual -development of Nietzsche's thought.</p> - -<p>Nietzsche's aim, as is now pretty well known, was the elevation of the -type man. At this period of his life he believed that this end could -be best attained by the protection and careful development of men of -genius, Hence his antagonism in the following lectures towards the -purely time-serving German schools and colleges of his age, in which -culture was not only neglected but not even known—the one aim of the -teachers being to instruct the pupils in the art of "getting on," of -playing a successful part in the struggle for existence, of becoming -useful citizens. Of course, Nietzsche was too little of a wild reformer -to be adverse to a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span>schooling of this nature. He freely admits that -a bread-winning education is necessary for the majority, and that -officials are necessary to the State; but he adds that everything -learnt as a preparation for taking part in the commercial or political -battle of life has nothing to do with culture. True culture is only for -a few select minds, which it is necessary to bring together under the -protecting roof of an institution that shall prepare them for culture, -and for culture only. Such an institution, he goes on to say, does not -yet exist; but we must have it if the delicate flower of the German -mind is no longer to be choked by the noxious weeds which have gathered -round it. As instances of minds thus "choked," Nietzsche mentions -Lessing, Winckelmann, and Schiller.</p> - -<p>The standard of culture to be aimed at by the man of genius Nietzsche -had in mind was to be found in the model literary and artistic -works which have come down to us from ancient Greece. To understand -these works, of course, the classical authors had to be studied in -the original, and the methods of teaching then in vogue paid too -much attention to inconsequential points (<i>e.g.</i> variant readings) -instead of dealing with the subject in a broad-minded philosophical -spirit. Nietzsche endeavoured to counteract this tendency in the -"Homer and Classical Philology," his inaugural address at Băle -University, by outlining a much vaster conception of philology than -his fellow-teachers had ever dreamt of, laying stress upon the -<i>artistic</i> results which would accrue if the science were applied on a -wider scale—results <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span> -which would be of a much higher order than those -obtained by the narrow pedantry then prevailing.</p> - -<p>It is a very superficial comment on these lectures to say that -Nietzsche was merely referring to the German schools and colleges -of his time. It would be even shallower to suggest that his remarks -do not apply to the schools and teachers of present-day England and -America; for we likewise do not possess the cultural institution, the -<i>real</i> educational establishment, that Nietzsche longed for. Broadly -speaking, the English public schools, the older English universities, -and the American high schools, train their scholars to be useful to -the State: the modern universities and the remaining schools give that -instructionin bread-winning which Nietzsche admits to be necessary -for the majority; but in no case is an attempt made to pick out a few -higher minds and train them for culture. Our crude methods of teaching -the classical languages are too well known to be commented upon; and -an insight into classical antiquity, with the good taste, the firm -principles, and the lofty aims obtained therefrom, is exactly what -our various educational institutions do not aim at giving. Yet, as -Nietzsche truly says, no progress in any other direction, no matter -how brilliant, can deliver our students from the curse of an education -which adapts itself more and more to the needs of the age, and thus -loses all its power of guiding the age. Let the student who, as the -victim of this system, suffers more from it than his teachers care to -admit, read the paragraph on pp. 132 and 133 containing the sentences—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> -He feels that he can neither lead nor help himself.... His -condition is undignified, even dreadful: he keeps between -the two extremes of work at high pressure and a state of -melancholy enervation.... He seeks consolation in hasty and -incessant action so as to hide himself from himself, etc.,</p></blockquote> - -<p>and then let him confess that Nietzsche's insight into his psychology -is profound and decisive. The whole paragraph might have been written -by Nietzsche after a visit to present-day England.</p> - -<p>As bearing upon the same subject, the reader will find it interesting -to compare the lectures here translated with Matthew Arnold's prose -writings passim, particularly the <i>Essays in Criticism, Mixed Essays,</i> -and <i>Culture and Anarchy</i>.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 70%;">J. M. KENNEDY.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">LONDON, May 1909.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a><br /> -<a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></p> - - - -<h3><a id="THE_FUTURE_OF_OUR_EDUCATIONAL_INSTITUTIONS"></a>THE FUTURE OF OUR EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS</h3> - - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></p> -<h4><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE">PREFACE.</a></h4> - - -<p>The reader from whom I expect something must possess three qualities: -he must be calm and must read without haste; he must not be ever -interposing his own personality and his own special "culture"; and he -must not expect as the ultimate results of his study of these pages -that he will be presented with a set of new formulæ. I do not propose -to furnish formulæ or new plans of study for <i>Gymnasia</i> or other -schools; and I am much more inclined to admire the extraordinary power -of those who are able to cover the whole distance between the depths -of empiricism and the heights of special culture-problems, and who -again descend to the level of the driest rules and the most neatly -expressed formulæ. I shall be content if only I can ascend a tolerably -lofty mountain, from the summit of which, after having recovered my -breath, I may obtain a general survey of the ground; for I shall never -be able, in this book, to satisfy the votaries of tabulated rules. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> -Indeed, I see a time coming when serious men, working together in the -service of a completely rejuvenated and purified culture, may again -become the directors of a system of everyday instruction, calculated -to promote that culture; and they will probably be compelled once more -to draw up sets of rules: but how remote this time now seems! And what -may not happen meanwhile! It is just possible that between now and -then all <i>Gymnasia</i>—yea, and perhaps all universities, may be -destroyed, or have become so utterly transformed that their very -regulations may, in the eyes of future generations, seem to be but the -relics of the cave-dwellers' age.</p> - -<p>This book is intended for calm readers,—for men who have not yet been -drawn into the mad headlong rush of our hurry-skurrying age, and who -do not experience any idolatrous delight in throwing themselves -beneath its chariot-wheels. It is for men, therefore, who are not -accustomed to estimate the value of everything according to the amount -of time it either saves or wastes. In short, it is for the few. These, -we believe, "still have time." Without any qualms of conscience they -may improve the most fruitful and vigorous hours of their day in -meditating on the future of our education; they may even believe when -the evening has come that they have used their day in the most -dignified and useful way, namely, in the <i>meditatio generis futuri</i>. -No one among them has yet forgotten to think while reading a book; he -still understands the secret of reading between the lines, and is -indeed <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>so generous in what he himself brings to his study, that he -continues to reflect upon what he has read, perhaps long after he has -laid the book aside. And he does this, not because he wishes to write -a criticism about it or even another book; but simply because -reflection is a pleasant pastime to him. Frivolous spendthrift! Thou -art a reader after my own heart; for thou wilt be patient enough to -accompany an author any distance, even though he himself cannot yet -see the goal at which he is aiming,—even though he himself feels only -that he must at all events honestly believe in a goal, in order that a -future and possibly very remote generation may come face to face with -that towards which we are now blindly and instinctively groping. -Should any reader demur and suggest that all that is required is -prompt and bold reform; should he imagine that a new "organisation" -introduced by the State, were all that is necessary, then we fear he -would have misunderstood not only the author but the very nature of -the problem under consideration.</p> - -<p>The third and most important stipulation is, that he should in no case -be constantly bringing himself and his own "culture" forward, after -the style of most modern men, as the correct standard and measure of -all things. We would have him so highly educated that he could even -think meanly of his education or despise it altogether. Only thus -would he be able to trust entirely to the author's guidance; for it is -only by virtue of ignorance and his consciousness of ignorance, that -the latter can dare to make himself heard. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>Finally, the author would -wish his reader to be fully alive to the specific character of our -present barbarism and of that which distinguishes us, as the -barbarians of the nineteenth century, from other barbarians.</p> - -<p>Now, with this book in his hand, the writer seeks all those who may -happen to be wandering, hither and thither, impelled by feelings -similar to his own. Allow yourselves to be discovered—ye lonely ones -in whose existence I believe! Ye unselfish ones, suffering in -yourselves from the corruption of the German spirit! Ye contemplative -ones who cannot, with hasty glances, turn your eyes swiftly from one -surface to another! Ye lofty thinkers, of whom Aristotle said that ye -wander through life vacillating and inactive so long as no great -honour or glorious Cause calleth you to deeds! It is you I summon! -Refrain this once from seeking refuge in your lairs of solitude and -dark misgivings. Bethink you that this book was framed to be your -herald. When ye shall go forth to battle in your full panoply, who -among you will not rejoice in looking back upon the herald who rallied -you?</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> -<h4><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION.</a></h4> - - -<p>The title I gave to these lectures ought, like all titles, to have -been as definite, as plain, and as significant as possible; now, -however, I observe that owing to a certain excess of precision, in its -present form it is too short and consequently misleading. My first -duty therefore will be to explain the title, together with the object -of these lectures, to you, and to apologise for being obliged to do -this. When I promised to speak to you concerning the future of our -educational institutions, I was not thinking especially of the -evolution of our particular institutions in Bâle. However frequently -my general observations may seem to bear particular application to our -own conditions here, I personally have no desire to draw these -inferences, and do not wish to be held responsible if they should be -drawn, for the simple reason that I consider myself still far too much -an inexperienced stranger among you, and much too superficially -acquainted with your methods, to pretend to pass judgment upon any -such special order of scholastic establishments, or to predict the -probable course their development will follow. On the other hand, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> -I know full well under what distinguished auspices I have to deliver -these lectures—namely, in a city which is striving to educate and -enlighten its inhabitants on a scale so magnificently out of -proportion to its size, that it must put all larger cities to shame. -This being so, I presume I am justified in assuming that in a quarter -where so much is <i>done</i> for the things of which I wish to speak, -people must also <i>think</i> a good deal about them. My desire—yea, my -very first condition, therefore, would be to become united in spirit -with those who have not only thought very deeply upon educational -problems, but have also the will to promote what they think to be -right by all the means in their power. And, in view of the -difficulties of my task and the limited time at my disposal, to such -listeners, alone, in my audience, shall I be able to make myself -understood—and even then, it will be on condition that they shall -guess what I can do no more than suggest, that they shall supply what -I am compelled to omit; in brief, that they shall need but to be -reminded and not to be taught. Thus, while I disclaim all desire of -being taken for an uninvited adviser on questions relating to the -schools and the University of Bâle, I repudiate even more emphatically -still the rôle of a prophet standing on the horizon of civilisation -and pretending to predict the future of education and of scholastic -organisation. I can no more project my vision through such vast -periods of time than I can rely upon its accuracy when it is brought -too close to an object under examination. With my title: <i>Our</i> -Educational Institutions, I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>wish to refer neither to the -establishments in Bâle nor to the incalculably vast number of other -scholastic institutions which exist throughout the nations of the -world to-day; but I wish to refer to <i>German institutions</i> of the kind -which we rejoice in here. It is their future that will now engage our -attention, <i>i.e.</i> the future of German elementary, secondary, and -public schools (Gymnasien) and universities. While pursuing our -discussion, however, we shall for once avoid all comparisons and -valuations, and guard more especially against that flattering illusion -that our conditions should be regarded as the standard for all others -and as surpassing them. Let it suffice that they are our institutions, -that they have not become a part of ourselves by mere accident, and -were not laid upon us like a garment; but that they are living -monuments of important steps in the progress of civilisation, in some -respects even the furniture of a bygone age, and as such link us with -the past of our people, and are such a sacred and venerable legacy -that I can only undertake to speak of the future of our educational -institutions in the sense of their being a most probable approximation -to the ideal spirit which gave them birth. I am, moreover, convinced -that the numerous alterations which have been introduced into these -institutions within recent years, with the view of bringing them -up-to-date, are for the most part but distortions and aberrations of -the originally sublime tendencies given to them at their foundation. -And what we dare to hope from the future, in this behalf, partakes so -much of the nature of a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>rejuvenation, a reviviscence, and a refining -of the spirit of Germany that, as a result of this very process, our -educational institutions may also be indirectly remoulded and born -again, so as to appear at once old and new, whereas now they only -profess to be "modern" or "up-to-date."</p> - -<p>Now it is only in the spirit of the hope above mentioned that I wish -to speak of the future of our educational institutions: and this is -the second point in regard to which I must tender an apology from the -outset. The "prophet" pose is such a presumptuous one that it seems -almost ridiculous to deny that I have the intention of adopting it. -No one should attempt to describe the future of our education, and -the means and methods of instruction relating thereto, in a prophetic -spirit, unless he can prove that the picture he draws already exists -in germ to-day, and that all that is required is the extension and -development of this embryo if the necessary modifications are to be -produced in schools and other educational institutions. All I ask, -is, like a Roman haruspex, to be allowed to steal glimpses of the -future out of the very entrails of existing conditions, which, in -this case, means no more than to hand the laurels of victory to any -one of the many forces tending to make itself felt in our present -educational system, despite the fact that the force in question may -be neither a favourite, an esteemed, nor a very extensive one. I -confidently assert that it will be victorious, however, because it -has the strongest and mightiest of all <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>allies in nature herself; and -in this respect it were well did we not forget that scores of the -very first principles of our modern educational methods are -thoroughly artificial, and that the most fatal weaknesses of the -present day are to be ascribed to this artificiality. He who feels in -complete harmony with the present state of affairs and who acquiesces -in it <i>as something</i> "<i>selbstverständliches</i>,"<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> excites our envy -neither in regard to his faith nor in regard to that egregious word -"<i>selbstverständlich</i>," so frequently heard in fashionable circles.</p> - -<p>He, however, who holds the opposite view and is therefore in despair, -does not need to fight any longer: all he requires is to give himself -up to solitude in order soon to be alone. Albeit, between those who -take everything for granted and these anchorites, there stand the -<i>fighters</i>—that is to say, those who still have hope, and as the -noblest and sublimest example of this class, we recognise Schiller as -he is described by Goethe in his "Epilogue to the Bell."</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">"Brighter now glow'd his cheek, and still more bright</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">With that unchanging, ever youthful glow:—</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">That courage which o'ercomes, in hard-fought fight,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Sooner or later ev'ry earthly foe,—</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">That faith which soaring to the realms of light,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Now boldly presseth on, now bendeth low,</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">So that the good may work, wax, thrive amain,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">So that the day the noble may attain."<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></span><br /> -</p> - -<p>I should like you to regard all I have just said as a kind of preface, -the object of which is to illustrate the title of my lectures and to -guard me against any possible misunderstanding and unjustified -criticisms. And now, in order to give you a rough outline of the range -of ideas from which I shall attempt to form a judgment concerning our -educational institutions, before proceeding to disclose my views and -turning from the title to the main theme, I shall lay a scheme before -you which, like a coat of arms, will serve to warn all strangers who -come to my door, as to the nature of the house they are about to -enter, in case they may feel inclined, after having examined the -device, to turn their backs on the premises that bear it. My scheme is -as follows:—</p> - -<p>Two seemingly antagonistic forces, equally deleterious in their -actions and ultimately combining to produce their results, are at -present ruling over our educational institutions, although these were -based originally upon very different principles. These forces are: a -striving to achieve the greatest possible <i>extension of education</i> on -the one hand, and a tendency <i>to minimise and to weaken it</i> on the -other. The first-named would fain spread learning among the greatest -possible number of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>people, the second would compel education to -renounce its highest and most independent claims in order to -subordinate itself to the service of the State. In the face of these -two antagonistic tendencies, we could but give ourselves up to -despair, did we not see the possibility of promoting the cause of two -other contending factors which are fortunately as completely German as -they are rich in promises for the future; I refer to the present -movement towards <i>limiting and concentrating</i> education as the -antithesis of the first of the forces above mentioned, and that other -movement towards the <i>strengthening and the independence</i> of education -as the antithesis of the second force. If we should seek a warrant for -our belief in the ultimate victory of the two last-named movements, we -could find it in the fact that both of the forces which we hold to be -deleterious are so opposed to the eternal purpose of nature as the -concentration of education for the few is in harmony with it, and is -true, whereas the first two forces could succeed only in founding a -culture false to the root.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Selbstverständlich = "granted or self-understood."</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> <i>The Poems of Goethe.</i> Edgar Alfred Bowring's Translation. (Ed. -1853.)</p></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a><br /> -<a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></p> -<h3>THE FUTURE OF OUR EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS.</h3> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="FIRST_LECTURE" id="FIRST_LECTURE">FIRST LECTURE.</a></h4> - - -<h5>(<i>Delivered on the 16th of January 1872.</i>)</h5> - - -<p><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LADIES AND GENTLEMEN</span>,—The subject I now propose to consider with you -is such a serious and important one, and is in a sense so disquieting, -that, like you, I would gladly turn to any one who could proffer some -information concerning it,—were he ever so young, were his ideas ever -so improbable—provided that he were able, by the exercise of his own -faculties, to furnish some satisfactory and sufficient explanation. It -is just possible that he may have had the opportunity of <i>hearing</i> -sound views expressed in reference to the vexed question of the future -of our educational institutions, and that he may wish to repeat them -to you; he may even have had distinguished teachers, fully qualified -to foretell what is to come, and, like the <i>haruspices</i> of Rome, able -to do so after an inspection of the entrails of the Present.</p> - -<p>Indeed, you yourselves may expect something of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>this kind from me. I -happened once, in strange but perfectly harmless circumstances, to -overhear a conversation on this subject between two remarkable men, -and the more striking points of the discussion, together with their -manner of handling the theme, are so indelibly imprinted on my memory -that, whenever I reflect on these matters, I invariably find myself -falling into their grooves of thought. I cannot, however, profess to -have the same courageous confidence which they displayed, both in -their daring utterance of forbidden truths, and in the still more -daring conception of the hopes with which they astonished me. It -therefore seemed to me to be in the highest degree important that a -record of this conversation should be made, so that others might be -incited to form a judgment concerning the striking views and -conclusions it contains: and, to this end, I had special grounds for -believing that I should do well to avail myself of the opportunity -afforded by this course of lectures.</p> - -<p>I am well aware of the nature of the community to whose serious -consideration I now wish to commend that conversation—I know it to be -a community which is striving to educate and enlighten its members on -a scale so magnificently out of proportion to its size that it must -put all larger cities to shame. This being so, I presume I may take it -for granted that in a quarter where so much is <i>done</i> for the things -of which I wish to speak, people must also <i>think</i> a good deal about -them. In my account of the conversation already mentioned, I shall be -able to make myself <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>completely understood only to those among my -audience who will be able to guess what I can do no more than suggest, -who will supply what I am compelled to omit, and who, above all, need -but to be reminded and not taught.</p> - -<p>Listen, therefore, ladies and gentlemen, while I recount my harmless -experience and the less harmless conversation between the two -gentlemen whom, so far, I have not named.</p> - -<p>Let us now imagine ourselves in the position of a young student—that -is to say, in a position which, in our present age of bewildering -movement and feverish excitability, has become an almost impossible -one. It is necessary to have lived through it in order to believe that -such careless self-lulling and comfortable indifference to the moment, -or to time in general, are possible. In this condition I, and a friend -about my own age, spent a year at the University of Bonn on the -Rhine,—it was a year which, in its complete lack of plans and -projects for the future, seems almost like a dream to me now—a dream -framed, as it were, by two periods of growth. We two remained quiet -and peaceful, although we were surrounded by fellows who in the main -were very differently disposed, and from time to time we experienced -considerable difficulty in meeting and resisting the somewhat too -pressing advances of the young men of our own age. Now, however, that -I can look upon the stand we had to take against these opposing -forces, I cannot help associating them in my mind with those checks we -are wont to receive in our dreams, as, for instance, when we <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>imagine -we are able to fly and yet feel ourselves held back by some -incomprehensible power.</p> - -<p>I and my friend had many reminiscences in common, and these dated from -the period of our boyhood upwards. One of these I must relate to you, -since it forms a sort of prelude to the harmless experience already -mentioned. On the occasion of a certain journey up the Rhine, which we -had made together one summer, it happened that he and I independently -conceived the very same plan at the same hour and on the same spot, -and we were so struck by this unwonted coincidence that we determined -to carry the plan out forthwith. We resolved to found a kind of small -club which would consist of ourselves and a few friends, and the -object of which would be to provide us with a stable and binding -organisation directing and adding interest to our creative impulses in -art and literature; or, to put it more plainly: each of us would be -pledged to present an original piece of work to the club once a -month,—either a poem, a treatise, an architectural design, or a -musical composition, upon which each of the others, in a friendly -spirit, would have to pass free and unrestrained criticism.</p> - -<p>We thus hoped, by means of mutual correction, to be able both to -stimulate and to chasten our creative impulses and, as a matter of -fact, the success of the scheme was such that we have both always felt -a sort of respectful attachment for the hour and the place at which it -first took shape in our minds.</p> - -<p>This attachment was very soon transformed <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>into a rite; for we all -agreed to go, whenever it was possible to do so, once a year to that -lonely spot near Rolandseck, where on that summer's day, while sitting -together, lost in meditation, we were suddenly inspired by the same -thought. Frankly speaking, the rules which were drawn up on the -formation of the club were never very strictly observed; but owing to -the very fact that we had many sins of omission on our conscience -during our student-year in Bonn, when we were once more on the banks -of the Rhine, we firmly resolved not only to observe our rule, but -also to gratify our feelings and our sense of gratitude by reverently -visiting that spot near Rolandseck on the day appointed.</p> - -<p>It was, however, with some difficulty that we were able to carry our -plans into execution; for, on the very day we had selected for our -excursion, the large and lively students' association, which always -hindered us in our flights, did their utmost to put obstacles in our -way and to hold us back. Our association had organised a general -holiday excursion to Rolandseck on the very day my friend and I had -fixed upon, the object of the outing being to assemble all its members -for the last time at the close of the half-year and to send them home -with pleasant recollections of their last hours together.</p> - -<p>The day was a glorious one; the weather was of the kind which, in our -climate at least, only falls to our lot in late summer: heaven and -earth merged harmoniously with one another, and, glowing wondrously in -the sunshine, autumn <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>freshness blended with the blue expanse above. -Arrayed in the bright fantastic garb in which, amid the gloomy -fashions now reigning, students alone may indulge, we boarded a -steamer which was gaily decorated in our honour, and hoisted our flag -on its mast. From both banks of the river there came at intervals the -sound of signal-guns, fired according to our orders, with the view of -acquainting both our host in Rolandseck and the inhabitants in the -neighbourhood with our approach. I shall not speak of the noisy -journey from the landing-stage, through the excited and expectant -little place, nor shall I refer to the esoteric jokes exchanged -between ourselves; I also make no mention of a feast which became both -wild and noisy, or of an extraordinary musical production in the -execution of which, whether as soloists or as chorus, we all -ultimately had to share, and which I, as musical adviser of our club, -had not only had to rehearse, but was then forced to conduct. Towards -the end of this piece, which grew ever wilder and which was sung to -ever quicker time, I made a sign to my friend, and just as the last -chord rang like a yell through the building, he and I vanished, -leaving behind us a raging pandemonium.</p> - -<p>In a moment we were in the refreshing and breathless stillness of -nature. The shadows were already lengthening, the sun still shone -steadily, though it had sunk a good deal in the heavens, and from the -green and glittering waves of the Rhine a cool breeze was wafted over -our hot faces. Our solemn rite bound us only in so far as the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>latest -hours of the day were concerned, and we therefore determined to employ -the last moments of clear daylight by giving ourselves up to one of -our many hobbies.</p> - -<p>At that time we were passionately fond of pistol-shooting, and both of -us in later years found the skill we had acquired as amateurs of great -use in our military career. Our club servant happened to know the -somewhat distant and elevated spot which we used as a range, and had -carried our pistols there in advance. The spot lay near the upper -border of the wood which covered the lesser heights behind Rolandseck: -it was a small uneven plateau, close to the place we had consecrated -in memory of its associations. On a wooded slope alongside of our -shooting-range there was a small piece of ground which had been -cleared of wood, and which made an ideal halting-place; from it one -could get a view of the Rhine over the tops of the trees and the -brushwood, so that the beautiful, undulating lines of the Seven -Mountains and above all of the Drachenfels bounded the horizon against -the group of trees, while in the centre of the bow formed by the -glistening Rhine itself the island of Nonnenwörth stood out as if -suspended in the river's arms. This was the place which had become -sacred to us through the dreams and plans we had had in common, and to -which we intended to withdraw, later in the evening,—nay, to which we -should be obliged to withdraw, if we wished to close the day in -accordance with the law we had imposed on ourselves.</p> - -<p>At one end of the little uneven plateau, and not <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>very far away, there -stood the mighty trunk of an oak-tree, prominently visible against a -background quite bare of trees and consisting merely of low undulating -hills in the distance. Working together, we had once carved a -pentagram in the side of this tree-trunk. Years of exposure to rain -and storm had slightly deepened the channels we had cut, and the -figure seemed a welcome target for our pistol-practice. It was already -late in the afternoon when we reached our improvised range, and our -oak-stump cast a long and attenuated shadow across the barren heath. -All was still: thanks to the lofty trees at our feet, we were unable -to catch a glimpse of the valley of the Rhine below. The peacefulness -of the spot seemed only to intensify the loudness of our -pistol-shots—and I had scarcely fired my second barrel at the -pentagram when I felt some one lay hold of my arm and noticed that my -friend had also some one beside him who had interrupted his loading.</p> - -<p>Turning sharply on my heels I found myself face to face with an -astonished old gentleman, and felt what must have been a very powerful -dog make a lunge at my back. My friend had been approached by a -somewhat younger man than I had; but before we could give expression -to our surprise the older of the two interlopers burst forth in the -following threatening and heated strain: "No! no!" he called to us, -"no duels must be fought here, but least of all must you young -students fight one. Away with these pistols and compose yourselves. Be -reconciled, shake hands! What?—and are you the salt of the earth, -the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>intelligence of the future, the seed of our hopes—and are you -not even able to emancipate yourselves from the insane code of honour -and its violent regulations? I will not cast any aspersions on your -hearts, but your heads certainly do you no credit. You, whose youth is -watched over by the wisdom of Greece and Rome, and whose youthful -spirits, at the cost of enormous pains, have been flooded with the -light of the sages and heroes of antiquity,—can you not refrain from -making the code of knightly honour—that is to say, the code of folly -and brutality—the guiding principle of your conduct?—Examine it -rationally once and for all, and reduce it to plain terms; lay its -pitiable narrowness bare, and let it be the touchstone, not of your -hearts but of your minds. If you do not regret it then, it will merely -show that your head is not fitted for work in a sphere where great -gifts of discrimination are needful in order to burst the bonds of -prejudice, and where a well-balanced understanding is necessary for -the purpose of distinguishing right from wrong, even when the -difference between them lies deeply hidden and is not, as in this -case, so ridiculously obvious. In that case, therefore, my lads, try -to go through life in some other honourable manner; join the army or -learn a handicraft that pays its way."</p> - -<p>To this rough, though admittedly just, flood of eloquence, we replied -with some irritation, interrupting each other continually in so doing: -"In the first place, you are mistaken concerning the main point; for -we are not here to fight a duel at all; but rather to practise -pistol-shooting. Secondly, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>you do not appear to know how a real duel -is conducted;—do you suppose that we should have faced each other in -this lonely spot, like two highwaymen, without seconds or doctors, -etc. etc.? Thirdly, with regard to the question of duelling, we each -have our own opinions, and do not require to be waylaid and surprised -by the sort of instruction you may feel disposed to give us."</p> - -<p>This reply, which was certainly not polite, made a bad impression upon -the old man. At first, when he heard that we were not about to fight a -duel, he surveyed us more kindly: but when we reached the last passage -of our speech, he seemed so vexed that he growled. When, however, we -began to speak of our point of view, he quickly caught hold of his -companion, turned sharply round, and cried to us in bitter tones: -"People should not have points of view, but thoughts!" And then his -companion added: "Be respectful when a man such as this even makes -mistakes!"</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, my friend, who had reloaded, fired a shot at the pentagram, -after having cried: "Look out!" This sudden report behind his back -made the old man savage; once more he turned round and looked sourly -at my friend, after which he said to his companion in a feeble voice: -"What shall we do? These young men will be the death of me with their -firing."—"You should know," said the younger man, turning to us, -"that your noisy pastimes amount, as it happens on this occasion, to -an attempt upon the life of philosophy. You observe this venerable -man,—he is in a position to beg you to desist from firing here. And -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>when such a man begs——" "Well, his request is generally granted," -the old man interjected, surveying us sternly.</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, we did not know what to make of the whole matter; -we could not understand what our noisy pastimes could have in common -with philosophy; nor could we see why, out of regard for polite -scruples, we should abandon our shooting-range, and at this moment we -may have appeared somewhat undecided and perturbed. The companion -noticing our momentary discomfiture, proceeded to explain the matter -to us.</p> - -<p>"We are compelled," he said, "to linger in this immediate -neighbourhood for an hour or so; we have a rendezvous here. An eminent -friend of this eminent man is to meet us here this evening; and we had -actually selected this peaceful spot, with its few benches in the -midst of the wood, for the meeting. It would really be most unpleasant -if, owing to your continual pistol-practice, we were to be subjected -to an unending series of shocks; surely your own feelings will tell -you that it is impossible for you to continue your firing when you -hear that he who has selected this quiet and isolated place for a -meeting with a friend is one of our most eminent philosophers."</p> - -<p>This explanation only succeeded in perturbing us the more; for we saw -a danger threatening us which was even greater than the loss of our -shooting-range, and we asked eagerly, "Where is this quiet spot? -Surely not to the left here, in the wood?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>"That is the very place."</p> - -<p>"But this evening that place belongs to us," my friend interposed. "We -must have it," we cried together.</p> - -<p>Our long-projected celebration seemed at that moment more important -than all the philosophies of the world, and we gave such vehement and -animated utterance to our sentiments that in view of the -incomprehensible nature of our claims we must have cut a somewhat -ridiculous figure. At any rate, our philosophical interlopers regarded -us with expressions of amused inquiry, as if they expected us to -proffer some sort of apology. But we were silent, for we wished above -all to keep our secret.</p> - -<p>Thus we stood facing one another in silence, while the sunset dyed the -tree-tops a ruddy gold. The philosopher contemplated the sun, his -companion contemplated him, and we turned our eyes towards our nook in -the woods which to-day we seemed in such great danger of losing. A -feeling of sullen anger took possession of us. What is philosophy, we -asked ourselves, if it prevents a man from being by himself or from -enjoying the select company of a friend,—in sooth, if it prevents him -from becoming a philosopher? For we regarded the celebration of our -rite as a thoroughly philosophical performance. In celebrating it we -wished to form plans and resolutions for the future, by means of quiet -reflections we hoped to light upon an idea which would once again help -us to form and gratify our spirit in the future, just as that former -idea had done during our boyhood. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>The solemn act derived its very -significance from this resolution, that nothing definite was to be -done, we were only to be alone, and to sit still and meditate, as we -had done five years before when we had each been inspired with the -same thought. It was to be a silent solemnisation, all reminiscence -and all future; the present was to be as a hyphen between the two. And -fate, now unfriendly, had just stepped into our magic circle—and we -knew not how to dismiss her;—the very unusual character of the -circumstances filled us with mysterious excitement.</p> - -<p>Whilst we stood thus in silence for some time, divided into two -hostile groups, the clouds above waxed ever redder and the evening -seemed to grow more peaceful and mild; we could almost fancy we heard -the regular breathing of nature as she put the final touches to her -work of art—the glorious day we had just enjoyed; when, suddenly, the -calm evening air was rent by a confused and boisterous cry of joy -which seemed to come from the Rhine. A number of voices could be heard -in the distance—they were those of our fellow-students who by that -time must have taken to the Rhine in small boats. It occurred to us -that we should be missed and that we should also miss something: -almost simultaneously my friend and I raised our pistols: our shots -were echoed back to us, and with their echo there came from the valley -the sound of a well-known cry intended as a signal of identification. -For our passion for shooting had brought us both repute and ill-repute -in our club. At the same <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>time we were conscious that our behaviour -towards the silent philosophical couple had been exceptionally -ungentlemanly; they had been quietly contemplating us for some time, -and when we fired the shock made them draw close up to each other. We -hurried up to them, and each in our turn cried out: "Forgive us. That -was our last shot, and it was intended for our friends on the Rhine. -They have understood us, do you hear? If you insist upon having that -place among the trees, grant us at least the permission to recline -there also. You will find a number of benches on the spot: we shall -not disturb you; we shall sit quite still and shall not utter a word: -but it is now past seven o'clock and we <i>must</i> go there at once.</p> - -<p>"That sounds more mysterious than it is," I added after a pause; "we -have made a solemn vow to spend this coming hour on that ground, and -there were reasons for the vow. The spot is sacred to us, owing to -some pleasant associations, it must also inaugurate a good future for -us. We shall therefore endeavour to leave you with no disagreeable -recollections of our meeting—even though we have done much to perturb -and frighten you."</p> - -<p>The philosopher was silent; his companion, however, said: "Our -promises and plans unfortunately compel us not only to remain, but -also to spend the same hour on the spot you have selected. It is left -for us to decide whether fate or perhaps a spirit has been responsible -for this extraordinary coincidence."</p> - -<p>"Besides, my friend," said the philosopher, "I am not half so -displeased with these warlike <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>youngsters as I was. Did you observe -how quiet they were a moment ago, when we were contemplating the sun? -They neither spoke nor smoked, they stood stone still, I even believe -they meditated."</p> - -<p>Turning suddenly in our direction, he said: "<i>Were</i> you meditating? -Just tell me about it as we proceed in the direction of our common -trysting-place." We took a few steps together and went down the slope -into the warm balmy air of the woods where it was already much darker. -On the way my friend openly revealed his thoughts to the philosopher, -he confessed how much he had feared that perhaps to-day for the first -time a philosopher was about to stand in the way of his -philosophising.</p> - -<p>The sage laughed. "What? You were afraid a philosopher would prevent -your philosophising? This might easily happen: and you have not yet -experienced such a thing? Has your university life been free from -experience? You surely attend lectures on philosophy?"</p> - -<p>This question discomfited us; for, as a matter of fact, there had been -no element of philosophy in our education up to that time. In those -days, moreover, we fondly imagined that everybody who held the post -and possessed the dignity of a philosopher must perforce be one: we -were inexperienced and badly informed. We frankly admitted that we had -not yet belonged to any philosophical college, but that we would -certainly make up for lost time.</p> - -<p>"Then what," he asked, "did you mean when <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>you spoke of -philosophising?" Said I, "We are at a loss for a definition. But to -all intents and purposes we meant this, that we wished to make earnest -endeavours to consider the best possible means of becoming men of -culture." "That is a good deal and at the same time very little," -growled the philosopher; "just you think the matter over. Here are our -benches, let us discuss the question exhaustively: I shall not disturb -your meditations with regard to how you are to become men of culture. -I wish you success and—points of view, as in your duelling questions; -brand-new, original, and enlightened points of view. The philosopher -does not wish to prevent your philosophising: but refrain at least -from disconcerting him with your pistol-shots. Try to imitate the -Pythagoreans to-day: they, as servants of a true philosophy, had to -remain silent for five years—possibly you may also be able to remain -silent for five times fifteen minutes, as servants of your own future -culture, about which you seem so concerned."</p> - -<p>We had reached our destination: the solemnisation of our rite began. -As on the previous occasion, five years ago, the Rhine was once more -flowing beneath a light mist, the sky seemed bright and the woods -exhaled the same fragrance. We took our places on the farthest corner -of the most distant bench; sitting there we were almost concealed, and -neither the philosopher nor his companion could see our faces. We were -alone: when the sound of the philosopher's voice reached us, it had -become so blended with the rustling <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>leaves and with the buzzing -murmur of the myriads of living things inhabiting the wooded height, -that it almost seemed like the music of nature; as a sound it -resembled nothing more than a distant monotonous plaint. We were -indeed undisturbed.</p> - -<p>Some time elapsed in this way, and while the glow of sunset grew -steadily paler the recollection of our youthful undertaking in the -cause of culture waxed ever more vivid. It seemed to us as if we owed -the greatest debt of gratitude to that little society we had founded; -for it had done more than merely supplement our public school -training; it had actually been the only fruitful society we had had, -and within its frame we even placed our public school life, as a -purely isolated factor helping us in our general efforts to attain to -culture.</p> - -<p>We knew this, that, thanks to our little society, no thought of -embracing any particular career had ever entered our minds in those -days. The all too frequent exploitation of youth by the State, for its -own purposes—that is to say, so that it may rear useful officials as -quickly as possible and guarantee their unconditional obedience to it -by means of excessively severe examinations—had remained quite -foreign to our education. And to show how little we had been actuated -by thoughts of utility or by the prospect of speedy advancement and -rapid success, on that day we were struck by the comforting -consideration that, even then, we had not yet decided what we should -be—we had not even troubled ourselves at all on this head. Our little -society had sown the seeds of this happy indifference in our souls and -for it alone we were <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>prepared to celebrate the anniversary of its -foundation with hearty gratitude. I have already pointed out, I think, -that in the eyes of the present age, which is so intolerant of -anything that is not useful, such purposeless enjoyment of the moment, -such a lulling of one's self in the cradle of the present, must seem -almost incredible and at all events blameworthy. How useless we were! -And how proud we were of being useless! We used even to quarrel with -each other as to which of us should have the glory of being the more -useless. We wished to attach no importance to anything, to have strong -views about nothing, to aim at nothing; we wanted to take no thought -for the morrow, and desired no more than to recline comfortably like -good-for-nothings on the threshold of the present; and we did—bless -us!</p> - -<p>—That, ladies and gentlemen, was our standpoint then!—</p> - -<p>Absorbed in these reflections, I was just about to give an answer to -the question of the future of <i>our</i> Educational Institutions in the -same self-sufficient way, when it gradually dawned upon me that the -"natural music," coming from the philosopher's bench had lost its -original character and travelled to us in much more piercing and -distinct tones than before. Suddenly I became aware that I was -listening, that I was eavesdropping, and was passionately interested, -with both ears keenly alive to every sound. I nudged my friend who was -evidently somewhat tired, and I whispered: "Don't fall asleep! There -is something for us to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>learn over there. It applies to us, even -though it be not meant for us."</p> - -<p>For instance, I heard the younger of the two men defending himself -with great animation while the philosopher rebuked him with ever -increasing vehemence. "You are unchanged," he cried to him, -"unfortunately unchanged. It is quite incomprehensible to me how you -can still be the same as you were seven years ago, when I saw you for -the last time and left you with so much misgiving. I fear I must once -again divest you, however reluctantly, of the skin of modern culture -which you have donned meanwhile;—and what do I find beneath it? The -same immutable 'intelligible' character forsooth, according to Kant; -but unfortunately the same unchanged 'intellectual' character, -too—which may also be a necessity, though not a comforting one. I ask -myself to what purpose have I lived as a philosopher, if, possessed as -you are of no mean intelligence and a genuine thirst for knowledge, -all the years you have spent in my company have left no deeper -impression upon you. At present you are behaving as if you had not -even heard the cardinal principle of all culture, which I went to such -pains to inculcate upon you during our former intimacy. Tell me,—what -was that principle?"</p> - -<p>"I remember," replied the scolded pupil, "you used to say no one would -strive to attain to culture if he knew how incredibly small the number -of really cultured people actually is, and can ever be. And even this -number of really cultured people would not be possible if a prodigious -multitude, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>from reasons opposed to their nature and only led on by an -alluring delusion, did not devote themselves to education. It were -therefore a mistake publicly to reveal the ridiculous disproportion -between the number of really cultured people and the enormous -magnitude of the educational apparatus. Here lies the whole secret of -culture—namely, that an innumerable host of men struggle to achieve -it and work hard to that end, ostensibly in their own interests, -whereas at bottom it is only in order that it may be possible for the -few to attain to it."</p> - -<p>"That is the principle," said the philosopher,—"and yet you could so -far forget yourself as to believe that you are one of the few? This -thought has occurred to you—I can see. That, however, is the result -of the worthless character of modern education. The rights of genius -are being democratised in order that people may be relieved of the -labour of acquiring culture, and their need of it. Every one wants if -possible to recline in the shade of the tree planted by genius, and to -escape the dreadful necessity of working for him, so that his -procreation may be made possible. What? Are you too proud to be a -teacher? Do you despise the thronging multitude of learners? Do you -speak contemptuously of the teacher's calling? And, aping my mode of -life, would you fain live in solitary seclusion, hostilely isolated -from that multitude? Do you suppose that you can reach at one bound -what I ultimately had to win for myself only after long and determined -struggles, in order even to be able to live like a philosopher? And do -you not fear that solitude <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>will wreak its vengeance upon you? Just -try living the life of a hermit of culture. One must be blessed with -overflowing wealth in order to live for the good of all on one's own -resources! Extraordinary youngsters! They felt it incumbent upon them -to imitate what is precisely most difficult and most high,—what is -possible only to the master, when they, above all, should know how -difficult and dangerous this is, and how many excellent gifts may be -ruined by attempting it!"</p> - -<p>"I will conceal nothing from you, sir," the companion replied. "I have -heard too much from your lips at odd times and have been too long in -your company to be able to surrender myself entirely to our present -system of education and instruction. I am too painfully conscious of -the disastrous errors and abuses to which you used to call my -attention—though I very well know that I am not strong enough to hope -for any success were I to struggle ever so valiantly against them. I -was overcome by a feeling of general discouragement; my recourse to -solitude was the result neither of pride nor arrogance. I would fain -describe to you what I take to be the nature of the educational -questions now attracting such enormous and pressing attention. It -seemed to me that I must recognise two main directions in the forces -at work—two seemingly antagonistic tendencies, equally deleterious in -their action, and ultimately combining to produce their results: a -striving to achieve the greatest possible <i>expansion</i> of education on -the one hand, and a tendency to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span><i>minimise and weaken</i> it on the -other. The first-named would, for various reasons, spread learning -among the greatest number of people; the second would compel education -to renounce its highest, noblest and sublimest claims in order to -subordinate itself to some other department of life—such as the -service of the State.</p> - -<p>"I believe I have already hinted at the quarter in which the cry for -the greatest possible expansion of education is most loudly raised. -This expansion belongs to the most beloved of the dogmas of modern -political economy. As much knowledge and education as possible; -therefore the greatest possible supply and demand—hence as much -happiness as possible:—that is the formula. In this case utility is -made the object and goal of education,—utility in the sense of -gain—the greatest possible pecuniary gain. In the quarter now under -consideration culture would be defined as that point of vantage which -enables one to 'keep in the van of one's age,' from which one can see -all the easiest and best roads to wealth, and with which one controls -all the means of communication between men and nations. The purpose of -education, according to this scheme, would be to rear the most -'current' men possible,—'current' being used here in the sense in -which it is applied to the coins of the realm. The greater the number -of such men, the happier a nation will be; and this precisely is the -purpose of our modern educational institutions: to help every one, as -far as his nature will allow, to become 'current'; to develop him so -that his particular degree of knowledge and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>science may yield him the -greatest possible amount of happiness and pecuniary gain. Every one -must be able to form some sort of estimate of himself; he must know -how much he may reasonably expect from life. The 'bond between -intelligence and property' which this point of view postulates has -almost the force of a moral principle. In this quarter all culture is -loathed which isolates, which sets goals beyond gold and gain, and -which requires time: it is customary to dispose of such eccentric -tendencies in education as systems of 'Higher Egotism,' or of 'Immoral -Culture—Epicureanism.' According to the morality reigning here, the -demands are quite different; what is required above all is 'rapid -education,' so that a money-earning creature may be produced with all -speed; there is even a desire to make this education so thorough that -a creature may be reared that will be able to earn a <i>great deal</i> of -money. Men are allowed only the precise amount of culture which is -compatible with the interests of gain; but that amount, at least, is -expected from them. In short: mankind has a necessary right to -happiness on earth—that is why culture is necessary—but on that -account alone!"</p> - -<p>"I must just say something here," said the philosopher. "In the case -of the view you have described so clearly, there arises the great and -awful danger that at some time or other the great masses may overleap -the middle classes and spring headlong into this earthly bliss. That -is what is now called 'the social question.' It might seem to these -masses that education for the greatest <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>number of men was only a means -to the earthly bliss of the few: the 'greatest possible expansion of -education' so enfeebles education that it can no longer confer -privileges or inspire respect. The most general form of culture is -simply barbarism. But I do not wish to interrupt your discussion."</p> - -<p>The companion continued: "There are yet other reasons, besides this -beloved economical dogma, for the expansion of education that is being -striven after so valiantly everywhere. In some countries the fear of -religious oppression is so general, and the dread of its results so -marked, that people in all classes of society long for culture and -eagerly absorb those elements of it which are supposed to scatter the -religious instincts. Elsewhere the State, in its turn, strives here -and there for its own preservation, after the greatest possible -expansion of education, because it always feels strong enough to bring -the most determined emancipation, resulting from culture, under its -yoke, and readily approves of everything which tends to extend -culture, provided that it be of service to its officials or soldiers, -but in the main to itself, in its competition with other nations. In -this case, the foundations of a State must be sufficiently broad and -firm to constitute a fitting counterpart to the complicated arches of -culture which it supports, just as in the first case the traces of -some former religious tyranny must still be felt for a people to be -driven to such desperate remedies. Thus, wherever I hear the masses -raise the cry for an expansion of education, I am wont to ask myself -whether it is stimulated by a greedy lust <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>of gain and property, by -the memory of a former religious persecution, or by the prudent -egotism of the State itself.</p> - -<p>"On the other hand, it seemed to me that there was yet another -tendency, not so clamorous, perhaps, but quite as forcible, which, -hailing from various quarters, was animated by a different -desire,—the desire to minimise and weaken education.</p> - -<p>"In all cultivated circles people are in the habit of whispering to -one another words something after this style: that it is a general -fact that, owing to the present frantic exploitation of the scholar in -the service of his science, his <i>education</i> becomes every day more -accidental and more uncertain. For the study of science has been -extended to such interminable lengths that he who, though not -exceptionally gifted, yet possesses fair abilities, will need to -devote himself exclusively to one branch and ignore all others if he -ever wish to achieve anything in his work. Should he then elevate -himself above the herd by means of his speciality, he still remains -one of them in regard to all else,—that is to say, in regard to all -the most important things in life. Thus, a specialist in science gets -to resemble nothing so much as a factory workman who spends his whole -life in turning one particular screw or handle on a certain instrument -or machine, at which occupation he acquires the most consummate skill. -In Germany, where we know how to drape such painful facts with the -glorious garments of fancy, this narrow specialisation on the part of -our learned men is <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>even admired, and their ever greater deviation -from the path of true culture is regarded as a moral phenomenon. -'Fidelity in small things,' 'dogged faithfulness,' become expressions -of highest eulogy, and the lack of culture outside the speciality is -flaunted abroad as a sign of noble sufficiency.</p> - -<p>"For centuries it has been an understood thing that one alluded to -scholars alone when one spoke of cultured men; but experience tells us -that it would be difficult to find any necessary relation between the -two classes to-day. For at present the exploitation of a man for the -purpose of science is accepted everywhere without the slightest -scruple. Who still ventures to ask, What may be the value of a science -which consumes its minions in this vampire fashion? The division of -labour in science is practically struggling towards the same goal -which religions in certain parts of the world are consciously striving -after,—that is to say, towards the decrease and even the destruction -of learning. That, however, which, in the case of certain religions, -is a perfectly justifiable aim, both in regard to their origin and -their history, can only amount to self-immolation when transferred to -the realm of science. In all matters of a general and serious nature, -and above all, in regard to the highest philosophical problems, we -have now already reached a point at which the scientific man, as such, -is no longer allowed to speak. On the other hand, that adhesive and -tenacious stratum which has now filled up the interstices between the -sciences—Journalism—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>believes it has a mission to fulfil here, and -this it does, according to its own particular lights—that is to say, -as its name implies, after the fashion of a day-labourer.</p> - -<p>"It is precisely in journalism that the two tendencies combine and -become one. The expansion and the diminution of education here join -hands. The newspaper actually steps into the place of culture, and he -who, even as a scholar, wishes to voice any claim for education, must -avail himself of this viscous stratum of communication which cements -the seams between all forms of life, all classes, all arts, and all -sciences, and which is as firm and reliable as news paper is, as a -rule. In the newspaper the peculiar educational aims of the present -culminate, just as the journalist, the servant of the moment, has -stepped into the place of the genius, of the leader for all time, of -the deliverer from the tyranny of the moment. Now, tell me, -distinguished master, what hopes could I still have in a struggle -against the general topsy-turvification of all genuine aims for -education; with what courage can I, a single teacher, step forward, -when I know that the moment any seeds of real culture are sown, they -will be mercilessly crushed by the roller of this pseudo-culture? -Imagine how useless the most energetic work on the part of the -individual teacher must be, who would fain lead a pupil back into the -distant and evasive Hellenic world and to the real home of culture, -when in less than an hour, that same pupil will have recourse to a -newspaper, the latest novel, or one of those learned books, the very -style of which <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>already bears the revolting impress of modern barbaric -culture——"</p> - -<p>"Now, silence a minute!" interjected the philosopher in a strong and -sympathetic voice. "I understand you now, and ought never to have -spoken so crossly to you. You are altogether right, save in your -despair. I shall now proceed to say a few words of consolation."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></p> -<h4><a name="SECOND_LECTURE" id="SECOND_LECTURE">SECOND LECTURE.</a></h4> - - -<h5>(<i>Delivered on the 6th of February 1872.</i>)</h5> - - -<p><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LADIES AND GENTLEMEN</span>,—Those among you whom I now have the pleasure of -addressing for the first time and whose only knowledge of my first -lecture has been derived from reports will, I hope, not mind being -introduced here into the middle of a dialogue which I had begun to -recount on the last occasion, and the last points of which I must now -recall. The philosopher's young companion was just pleading openly and -confidentially with his distinguished tutor, and apologising for -having so far renounced his calling as a teacher in order to spend his -days in comfortless solitude. No suspicion of superciliousness or -arrogance had induced him to form this resolve.</p> - -<p>"I have heard too much from your lips at various times," the -straightforward pupil said, "and have been too long in your company, -to surrender myself blindly to our present systems of education and -instruction. I am too painfully conscious of the disastrous errors and -abuses to which you were wont to call my attention; and yet I know -that I am far from possessing the requisite strength to meet with -success, however valiantly I might struggle to shatter the bulwarks -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>of this would-be culture. I was overcome by a general feeling of -depression: my recourse to solitude was not arrogance or -superciliousness." Whereupon, to account for his behaviour, he -described the general character of modern educational methods so -vividly that the philosopher could not help interrupting him in a -voice full of sympathy, and crying words of comfort to him.</p> - -<p>"Now, silence for a minute, my poor friend," he cried; "I can more -easily understand you now, and should not have lost my patience with -you. You are altogether right, save in your despair. I shall now -proceed to say a few words of comfort to you. How long do you suppose -the state of education in the schools of our time, which seems to -weigh so heavily upon you, will last? I shall not conceal my views on -this point from you: its time is over; its days are counted. The first -who will dare to be quite straightforward in this respect will hear -his honesty re-echoed back to him by thousands of courageous souls. -For, at bottom, there is a tacit understanding between the more nobly -gifted and more warmly disposed men of the present day. Every one of -them knows what he has had to suffer from the condition of culture in -schools; every one of them would fain protect his offspring from the -need of enduring similar drawbacks, even though he himself was -compelled to submit to them. If these feelings are never quite -honestly expressed, however, it is owing to a sad want of spirit among -modern pedagogues. These lack real initiative; there are too few -practical men among them—that is to say, too few who happen <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>to have -good and new ideas, and who know that real genius and the real -practical mind must necessarily come together in the same individuals, -whilst the sober practical men have no ideas and therefore fall short -in practice.</p> - -<p>"Let any one examine the pedagogic literature of the present; he who -is not shocked at its utter poverty of spirit and its ridiculously -awkward antics is beyond being spoiled. Here our philosophy must not -begin with wonder but with dread; he who feels no dread at this point -must be asked not to meddle with pedagogic questions. The reverse, of -course, has been the rule up to the present; those who were terrified -ran away filled with embarrassment as you did, my poor friend, while -the sober and fearless ones spread their heavy hands over the most -delicate technique that has ever existed in art—over the technique of -education. This, however, will not be possible much longer; at some -time or other the upright man will appear, who will not only have the -good ideas I speak of, but who in order to work at their realisation, -will dare to break with all that exists at present: he may by means of -a wonderful example achieve what the broad hands, hitherto active, -could not even imitate—then people will everywhere begin to draw -comparisons; then men will at least be able to perceive a contrast and -will be in a position to reflect upon its causes, whereas, at present, -so many still believe, in perfect good faith, that heavy hands are a -necessary factor in pedagogic work."</p> - -<p>"My dear master," said the younger man, "I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>wish you could point to -one single example which would assist me in seeing the soundness of -the hopes which you so heartily raise in me. We are both acquainted -with public schools; do you think, for instance, that in respect of -these institutions anything may be done by means of honesty and good -and new ideas to abolish the tenacious and antiquated customs now -extant? In this quarter, it seems to me, the battering-rams of an -attacking party will have to meet with no solid wall, but with the -most fatal of stolid and slippery principles. The leader of the -assault has no visible and tangible opponent to crush, but rather a -creature in disguise that can transform itself into a hundred -different shapes and, in each of these, slip out of his grasp, only in -order to reappear and to confound its enemy by cowardly surrenders and -feigned retreats. It was precisely the public schools which drove me -into despair and solitude, simply because I feel that if the struggle -here leads to victory all other educational institutions must give in; -but that, if the reformer be forced to abandon his cause here, he may -as well give up all hope in regard to every other scholastic question. -Therefore, dear master, enlighten me concerning the public schools; -what can we hope for in the way of their abolition or reform?"</p> - -<p>"I also hold the question of public schools to be as important as you -do," the philosopher replied. "All other educational institutions must -fix their aims in accordance with those of the public school system; -whatever errors of judgment it may suffer from, they suffer from also, -and if it were ever <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>purified and rejuvenated, they would be purified -and rejuvenated too. The universities can no longer lay claim to this -importance as centres of influence, seeing that, as they now stand, -they are at least, in one important aspect, only a kind of annex to -the public school system, as I shall shortly point out to you. For the -moment, let us consider, together, what to my mind constitutes the -very hopeful struggle of the two possibilities: <i>either</i> that the -motley and evasive spirit of public schools which has hitherto been -fostered, will completely vanish, or that it will have to be -completely purified and rejuvenated. And in order that I may not shock -you with general propositions, let us first try to recall one of those -public school experiences which we have all had, and from which we -have all suffered. Under severe examination what, as a matter of fact, -is the present <i>system of teaching German</i> in public schools?</p> - -<p>"I shall first of all tell you what it should be. Everybody speaks and -writes German as thoroughly badly as it is just possible to do so in -an age of newspaper German: that is why the growing youth who happens -to be both noble and gifted has to be taken by force and put under the -glass shade of good taste and of severe linguistic discipline. If this -is not possible, I would prefer in future that Latin be spoken; for I -am ashamed of a language so bungled and vitiated.</p> - -<p>"What would be the duty of a higher educational institution, in this -respect, if not this—namely, with authority and dignified severity to -put youths, neglected, as far as their own language <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>is concerned, on -the right path, and to cry to them: 'Take your own language seriously! -He who does not regard this matter as a sacred duty does not possess -even the germ of a higher culture. From your attitude in this matter, -from your treatment of your mother-tongue, we can judge how highly or -how lowly you esteem art, and to what extent you are related to it. If -you notice no physical loathing in yourselves when you meet with -certain words and tricks of speech in our journalistic jargon, cease -from striving after culture; for here in your immediate vicinity, at -every moment of your life, while you are either speaking or writing, -you have a touchstone for testing how difficult, how stupendous, the -task of the cultured man is, and how very improbable it must be that -many of you will ever attain to culture.'</p> - -<p>"In accordance with the spirit of this address, the teacher of German -at a public school would be forced to call his pupil's attention to -thousands of details, and with the absolute certainty of good taste, -to forbid their using such words and expressions, for instance, as: -'<i>beanspruchen</i>,' '<i>vereinnahmen</i>,' '<i>einer Sache Rechnung tragen</i>,' -'<i>die Initiative ergreifen</i>,' '<i>selbstverständlich</i>,'<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> etc., <i>cum -tædio in infinitum</i>. The same teacher would also have to take our -classical authors and show, line for line, how carefully and with what -precision every expression has to be chosen when a writer has the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>correct feeling in his heart and has before his eyes a perfect -conception of all he is writing. He would necessarily urge his pupils, -time and again, to express the same thought ever more happily; nor -would he have to abate in rigour until the less gifted in his class -had contracted an unholy fear of their language, and the others had -developed great enthusiasm for it.</p> - -<p>"Here then is a task for so-called 'formal' education<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> [the -education tending to develop the mental faculties, as opposed to -'material' education,<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> which is intended to deal only with the -acquisition of facts, <i>e.g.</i> history, mathematics, etc.], and one of -the utmost value: but what do we find in the public school—that is to -say, in the head-quarters of formal education? He who understands how -to apply what he has heard here will also know what to think of the -modern public school as a so-called educational institution. He will -discover, for instance, that the public school, according to its -fundamental principles, does not educate for the purposes of culture, -but for the purposes of scholarship; and, further, that of late it -seems to have adopted a course which indicates rather that it has even -discarded scholarship in favour of journalism as the object of its -exertions. This can be clearly seen from the way in which German is -taught.</p> - -<p>"Instead of that purely practical method of instruction by which the -teacher accustoms his pupils to severe self-discipline in their own -language, we find everywhere the rudiments of a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>historico-scholastic -method of teaching the mother-tongue: that is to say, people deal with -it as if it were a dead language and as if the present and future were -under no obligations to it whatsoever. The historical method has -become so universal in our time, that even the living body of the -language is sacrificed for the sake of anatomical study. But this is -precisely where culture begins—namely, in understanding how to treat -the quick as something vital, and it is here too that the mission of -the cultured teacher begins: in suppressing the urgent claims of -'historical interests' wherever it is above all necessary to <i>do</i> -properly and not merely to <i>know</i> properly. Our mother-tongue, -however, is a domain in which the pupil must learn how to <i>do</i> -properly, and to this practical end, alone, the teaching of German is -essential in our scholastic establishments. The historical method may -certainly be a considerably easier and more comfortable one for the -teacher; it also seems to be compatible with a much lower grade of -ability and, in general, with a smaller display of energy and will on -his part. But we shall find that this observation holds good in every -department of pedagogic life: the simpler and more comfortable method -always masquerades in the disguise of grand pretensions and stately -titles; the really practical side, the <i>doing</i>, which should belong to -culture and which, at bottom, is the more difficult side, meets only -with disfavour and contempt. That is why the honest man must make -himself and others quite clear concerning this <i>quid pro quo</i>.</p> - -<p>"Now, apart from these learned incentives to a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>study of the language, -what is there besides which the German teacher is wont to offer? How -does he reconcile the spirit of his school with the spirit of the -<i>few</i> that Germany can claim who are really cultured,—<i>i.e.</i> with the -spirit of its classical poets and artists? This is a dark and thorny -sphere, into which one cannot even bear a light without dread; but -even here we shall conceal nothing from ourselves; for sooner or later -the whole of it will have to be reformed. In the public school, the -repulsive impress of our æsthetic journalism is stamped upon the still -unformed minds of youths. Here, too, the teacher sows the seeds of -that crude and wilful misinterpretation of the classics, which later -on disports itself as art-criticism, and which is nothing but -bumptious barbarity. Here the pupils learn to speak of our unique -<i>Schiller</i> with the superciliousness of prigs; here they are taught to -smile at the noblest and most German of his works—at the Marquis of -Posa, at Max and Thekla—at these smiles German genius becomes -incensed and a worthier posterity will blush.</p> - -<p>"The last department in which the German teacher in a public school is -at all active, which is often regarded as his sphere of highest -activity, and is here and there even considered the pinnacle of public -school education, is the so-called <i>German composition</i>. Owing to the -very fact that in this department it is almost always the most gifted -pupils who display the greatest eagerness, it ought to have been made -clear how dangerously stimulating, precisely here, the task of the -teacher must be. <i>German composition</i> makes an appeal to the -individual, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>the more strongly a pupil is conscious of his various -qualities, the more personally will he do his <i>German composition</i>. -This 'personal doing' is urged on with yet an additional fillip in -some public schools by the choice of the subject, the strongest proof -of which is, in my opinion, that even in the lower classes the -non-pedagogic subject is set, by means of which the pupil is led to -give a description of his life and of his development. Now, one has -only to read the titles of the compositions set in a large number of -public schools to be convinced that probably the large majority of -pupils have to suffer their whole lives, through no fault of their -own, owing to this premature demand for personal work—for the unripe -procreation of thoughts. And how often are not all a man's subsequent -literary performances but a sad result of this pedagogic original sin -against the intellect!</p> - -<p>"Let us only think of what takes place at such an age in the -production of such work. It is the first individual creation; the -still undeveloped powers tend for the first time to crystallise; the -staggering sensation produced by the demand for self-reliance imparts -a seductive charm to these early performances, which is not only quite -new, but which never returns. All the daring of nature is hauled out -of its depths; all vanities—no longer constrained by mighty -barriers—are allowed for the first time to assume a literary form: -the young man, from that time forward, feels as if he had reached his -consummation as a being not only able, but actually invited, to speak -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> -and to converse. The subject he selects obliges him either to express -his judgment upon certain poetical works, to class historical persons -together in a description of character, to discuss serious ethical -problems quite independently, or even to turn the searchlight inwards, -to throw its rays upon his own development and to make a critical -report of himself: in short, a whole world of reflection is spread out -before the astonished young man who, until then, had been almost -unconscious, and is delivered up to him to be judged.</p> - -<p>"Now let us try to picture the teacher's usual attitude towards these -first highly influential examples of original composition. What does -he hold to be most reprehensible in this class of work? What does he -call his pupil's attention to?—To all excess in form or thought—that -is to say, to all that which, at their age, is essentially -characteristic and individual. Their really independent traits which, -in response to this very premature excitation, can manifest themselves -only in awkwardness, crudeness, and grotesque features,—in short, -their individuality is reproved and rejected by the teacher in favour -of an unoriginal decent average. On the other hand, uniform mediocrity -gets peevish praise; for, as a rule, it is just the class of work -likely to bore the teacher thoroughly.</p> - -<p>"There may still be men who recognise a most absurd and most dangerous -element of the public school curriculum in the whole farce of this -German composition. Originality is demanded here: but the only shape -in which it can manifest itself is rejected, and the 'formal' -education that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>the system takes for granted is attained to only by a -very limited number of men who complete it at a ripe age. Here -everybody without exception is regarded as gifted for literature and -considered as capable of holding opinions concerning the most -important questions and people, whereas the one aim which proper -education should most zealously strive to achieve would be the -suppression of all ridiculous claims to independent judgment, and the -inculcation upon young men of obedience to the sceptre of genius. Here -a pompous form of diction is taught in an age when every spoken or -written word is a piece of barbarism. Now let us consider, besides, -the danger of arousing the self-complacency which is so easily -awakened in youths; let us think how their vanity must be flattered -when they see their literary reflection for the first time in the -mirror. Who, having seen all these effects at <i>one</i> glance, could any -longer doubt whether all the faults of our public, literary, and -artistic life were not stamped upon every fresh generation by the -system we are examining: hasty and vain production, the disgraceful -manufacture of books; complete want of style; the crude, -characterless, or sadly swaggering method of expression; the loss of -every æsthetic canon; the voluptuousness of anarchy and chaos—in -short, the literary peculiarities of both our journalism and our -scholarship.</p> - -<p>"None but the very fewest are aware that, among many thousands, -perhaps only <i>one</i> is justified in describing himself as literary, and -that all others who at their own risk try to be so deserve to be met -with Homeric laughter by all <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>competent men as a reward for every -sentence they have ever had printed;—for it is truly a spectacle meet -for the gods to see a literary Hephaistos limping forward who would -pretend to help us to something. To educate men to earnest and -inexorable habits and views, in this respect, should be the highest -aim of all mental training, whereas the general <i>laisser aller</i> of the -'fine personality' can be nothing else than the hall-mark of -barbarism. From what I have said, however, it must be clear that, at -least in the teaching of German, no thought is given to culture; -something quite different is in view,—namely, the production of the -afore-mentioned 'free personality.' And so long as German public -schools prepare the road for outrageous and irresponsible scribbling, -so long as they do not regard the immediate and practical discipline -of speaking and writing as their most holy duty, so long as they treat -the mother-tongue as if it were only a necessary evil or a dead body, -I shall not regard these institutions as belonging to real culture.</p> - -<p>"In regard to the language, what is surely least noticeable is any -trace of the influence of <i>classical examples</i>: that is why, on the -strength of this consideration alone, the so-called 'classical -education' which is supposed to be provided by our public school, -strikes me as something exceedingly doubtful and confused. For how -could anybody, after having cast one glance at those examples, fail to -see the great earnestness with which the Greek and the Roman regarded -and treated his language, from his youth onwards—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>how is it possible -to mistake one's example on a point like this one?—provided, of -course, that the classical Hellenic and Roman world really did hover -before the educational plan of our public schools as the highest and -most instructive of all morals—a fact I feel very much inclined to -doubt. The claim put forward by public schools concerning the -'classical education' they provide seems to be more an awkward evasion -than anything else; it is used whenever there is any question raised -as to the competency of the public schools to impart culture and to -educate. Classical education, indeed! It sounds so dignified! It -confounds the aggressor and staves off the assault—for who could see -to the bottom of this bewildering formula all at once? And this has -long been the customary strategy of the public school: from whichever -side the war-cry may come, it writes upon its shield—not overloaded -with honours—one of those confusing catchwords, such as: 'classical -education,' 'formal education,' 'scientific education':—three -glorious things which are, however, unhappily at loggerheads, not only -with themselves but among themselves, and are such that, if they were -compulsorily brought together, would perforce bring forth a -culture-monster. For a 'classical education' is something so unheard -of, difficult and rare, and exacts such complicated talent, that only -ingenuousness or impudence could put it forward as an attainable goal -in our public schools. The words: 'formal education' belong to that -crude kind of unphilosophical phraseology which one should do one's -utmost <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>to get rid of; for there is no such thing as 'the opposite of -formal education.' And he who regards 'scientific education' as the -object of a public school thereby sacrifices 'classical education' and -the so-called 'formal education,' at one stroke, as the scientific man -and the cultured man belong to two different spheres which, though -coming together at times in the same individual, are never reconciled.</p> - -<p>"If we compare all three of these would-be aims of the public school -with the actual facts to be observed in the present method of teaching -German, we see immediately what they really amount to in -practice,—that is to say, only to subterfuges for use in the fight -and struggle for existence and, often enough, mere means wherewith to -bewilder an opponent. For we are unable to detect any single feature -in this teaching of German which in any way recalls the example of -classical antiquity and its glorious methods of training in languages. -'Formal education,' however, which is supposed to be achieved by this -method of teaching German, has been shown to be wholly at the pleasure -of the 'free personality,' which is as good as saying that it is -barbarism and anarchy. And as for the preparation in science, which is -one of the consequences of this teaching, our Germanists will have to -determine, in all justice, how little these learned beginnings in -public schools have contributed to the splendour of their sciences, -and how much the personality of individual university professors has -done so.—Put briefly: <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>the public school has hitherto neglected its -most important and most urgent duty towards the very beginning of all -real culture, which is the mother-tongue; but in so doing it has -lacked the natural, fertile soil for all further efforts at culture. -For only by means of stern, artistic, and careful discipline and -habit, in a language, can the correct feeling for the greatness of our -classical writers be strengthened. Up to the present their recognition -by the public schools has been owing almost solely to the doubtful -æsthetic hobbies of a few teachers or to the massive effects of -certain of their tragedies and novels. But everybody should, himself, -be aware of the difficulties of the language: he should have learnt -them from experience: after long seeking and struggling he must reach -the path our great poets trod in order to be able to realise how -lightly and beautifully they trod it, and how stiffly and swaggeringly -the others follow at their heels.</p> - -<p>"Only by means of such discipline can the young man acquire that -physical loathing for the beloved and much-admired 'elegance' of style -of our newspaper manufacturers and novelists, and for the 'ornate -style' of our literary men; by it alone is he irrevocably elevated at -a stroke above a whole host of absurd questions and scruples, such, -for instance, as whether Auerbach and Gutzkow are really poets, for -his disgust at both will be so great that he will be unable to read -them any longer, and thus the problem will be solved for him. Let no -one imagine that it is an easy matter to develop this feeling to the -extent <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>necessary in order to have this physical loathing; but let no -one hope to reach sound æsthetic judgments along any other road than -the thorny one of language, and by this I do not mean philological -research, but self-discipline in one's mother-tongue.</p> - -<p>"Everybody who is in earnest in this matter will have the same sort of -experience as the recruit in the army who is compelled to learn -walking after having walked almost all his life as a dilettante or -empiricist. It is a hard time: one almost fears that the tendons are -going to snap and one ceases to hope that the artificial and -consciously acquired movements and positions of the feet will ever be -carried out with ease and comfort. It is painful to see how awkwardly -and heavily one foot is set before the other, and one dreads that one -may not only be unable to learn the new way of walking, but that one -will forget how to walk at all. Then it suddenly become noticeable -that a new habit and a second nature have been born of the practised -movements, and that the assurance and strength of the old manner of -walking returns with a little more grace: at this point one begins to -realise how difficult walking is, and one feels in a position to laugh -at the untrained empiricist or the elegant dilettante. Our 'elegant' -writers, as their style shows, have never learnt 'walking' in this -sense, and in our public schools, as our other writers show, no one -learns walking either. Culture begins, however, with the correct -movement of the language: and once it has properly begun, it begets -that physical <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>sensation in the presence of 'elegant' writers which is -known by the name of 'loathing.'</p> - -<p>"We recognise the fatal consequences of our present public schools, in -that they are unable to inculcate severe and genuine culture, which -should consist above all in obedience and habituation; and that, at -their best, they much more often achieve a result by stimulating and -kindling scientific tendencies, is shown by the hand which is so -frequently seen uniting scholarship and barbarous taste, science and -journalism. In a very large majority of cases to-day we can observe -how sadly our scholars fall short of the standard of culture which the -efforts of Goethe, Schiller, Lessing, and Winckelmann established; and -this falling short shows itself precisely in the egregious errors -which the men we speak of are exposed to, equally among literary -historians—whether Gervinus or Julian Schmidt—as in any other -company; everywhere, indeed, where men and women converse. It shows -itself most frequently and painfully, however, in pedagogic spheres, -in the literature of public schools. It can be proved that the only -value that these men have in a real educational establishment has not -been mentioned, much less generally recognised for half a century: -their value as preparatory leaders and mystogogues of classical -culture, guided by whose hands alone can the correct road leading to -antiquity be found.</p> - -<p>"Every so-called classical education can have but one natural -starting-point—an artistic, earnest, and exact familiarity with the -use of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>mother-tongue: this, together with the secret of form, -however, one can seldom attain to of one's own accord, almost -everybody requires those great leaders and tutors and must place -himself in their hands. There is, however, no such thing as a -classical education that could grow without this inferred love of -form. Here, where the power of discerning form and barbarity gradually -awakens, there appear the pinions which bear one to the only real home -of culture—ancient Greece. If with the solitary help of those pinions -we sought to reach those far-distant and diamond-studded walls -encircling the stronghold of Hellenism, we should certainly not get -very far; once more, therefore, we need the same leaders and tutors, -our German classical writers, that we may be borne up, too, by the -wing-strokes of their past endeavours—to the land of yearning, to -Greece.</p> - -<p>"Not a suspicion of this possible relationship between our classics -and classical education seems to have pierced the antique walls of -public schools. Philologists seem much more eagerly engaged in -introducing Homer and Sophocles to the young souls of their pupils, in -their own style, calling the result simply by the unchallenged -euphemism: 'classical education.' Let every one's own experience tell -him what he had of Homer and Sophocles at the hands of such eager -teachers. It is in this department that the greatest number of deepest -deceptions occur, and whence misunderstandings are inadvertently -spread. In German public schools I have never yet found a trace of -what might really be called 'classical education,' and there is -nothing surprising in this when one thinks of the way in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>which these -institutions have emancipated themselves from German classical writers -and the discipline of the German language. Nobody reaches antiquity by -means of a leap into the dark, and yet the whole method of treating -ancient writers in schools, the plain commentating and paraphrasing of -our philological teachers, amounts to nothing more than a leap into -the dark.</p> - -<p>"The feeling for classical Hellenism is, as a matter of fact, such an -exceptional outcome of the most energetic fight for culture and -artistic talent that the public school could only have professed to -awaken this feeling owing to a very crude misunderstanding. In what -age? In an age which is led about blindly by the most sensational -desires of the day, and which is not aware of the fact that, once that -feeling for Hellenism is roused, it immediately becomes aggressive and -must express itself by indulging in an incessant war with the -so-called culture of the present. For the public school boy of to-day, -the Hellenes as Hellenes are dead: yes, he gets some enjoyment out of -Homer, but a novel by Spielhagen interests him much more: yes, he -swallows Greek tragedy and comedy with a certain relish, but a -thoroughly modern drama, like Freitag's 'Journalists,' moves him in -quite another fashion. In regard to all ancient authors he is rather -inclined to speak after the manner of the æsthete, Hermann Grimm, who, -on one occasion, at the end of a tortuous essay on the Venus of Milo, -asks himself: 'What does this goddess's form mean to me? Of what use -are the thoughts she suggests to me? Orestes and OEdipus, Iphigenia -and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>Antigone, what have they in common with my heart?'—No, my dear -public school boy, the Venus of Milo does not concern you in any way, -and concerns your teacher just as little—and that is the misfortune, -that is the secret of the modern public school. Who will conduct you -to the land of culture, if your leaders are blind and assume the -position of seers notwithstanding? Which of you will ever attain to a -true feeling for the sacred seriousness of art, if you are -systematically spoiled, and taught to stutter independently instead of -being taught to speak; to æstheticise on your own account, when you -ought to be taught to approach works of art almost piously; to -philosophise without assistance, while you ought to be compelled to -<i>listen</i> to great thinkers. All this with the result that you remain -eternally at a distance from antiquity and become the servants of the -day.</p> - -<p>"At all events, the most wholesome feature of our modern institutions -is to be found in the earnestness with which the Latin and Greek -languages are studied over a long course of years. In this way boys -learn to respect a grammar, lexicons, and a language that conforms to -fixed rules; in this department of public school work there is an -exact knowledge of what constitutes a fault, and no one is troubled -with any thought of justifying himself every minute by appealing (as -in the case of modern German) to various grammatical and -orthographical vagaries and vicious forms. If only this respect for -language did not hang in the air so, like a theoretical burden which -one is pleased to throw off the moment one turns to one's -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>mother-tongue! More often than not, the classical master makes pretty -short work of the mother-tongue; from the outset he treats it as a -department of knowledge in which one is allowed that indolent ease -with which the German treats everything that belongs to his native -soil. The splendid practice afforded by translating from one language -into another, which so improves and fertilises one's artistic feeling -for one's own tongue, is, in the case of German, never conducted with -that fitting categorical strictness and dignity which would be above -all necessary in dealing with an undisciplined language. Of late, -exercises of this kind have tended to decrease ever more and more: -people are satisfied to <i>know</i> the foreign classical tongues, they -would scorn being able to <i>apply</i> them.</p> - -<p>"Here one gets another glimpse of the scholarly tendency of public -schools: a phenomenon which throws much light upon the object which -once animated them,—that is to say, the serious desire to cultivate -the pupil. This belonged to the time of our great poets, those few -really cultured Germans,—the time when the magnificent Friedrich -August Wolf directed the new stream of classical thought, introduced -from Greece and Rome by those men, into the heart of the public -schools. Thanks to his bold start, a new order of public schools was -established, which thenceforward was not to be merely a nursery for -science, but, above all, the actual consecrated home of all higher and -nobler culture.</p> - -<p>"Of the many necessary measures which this change called into being, -some of the most <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>important have been transferred with lasting success -to the modern regulations of public schools: the most important of -all, however, did not succeed—the one demanding that the teacher, -also, should be consecrated to the new spirit, so that the aim of the -public school has meanwhile considerably departed from the original -plan laid down by Wolf, which was the cultivation of the pupil. The -old estimate of scholarship and scholarly culture, as an absolute, -which Wolf overcame, seems after a slow and spiritless struggle rather -to have taken the place of the culture-principle of more recent -introduction, and now claims its former exclusive rights, though not -with the same frankness, but disguised and with features veiled. And -the reason why it was impossible to make public schools fall in with -the magnificent plan of classical culture lay in the un-German, almost -foreign or cosmopolitan nature of these efforts in the cause of -education: in the belief that it was possible to remove the native -soil from under a man's feet and that he should still remain standing; -in the illusion that people can spring direct, without bridges, into -the strange Hellenic world, by abjuring German and the German mind in -general.</p> - -<p>"Of course one must know how to trace this Germanic spirit to its lair -beneath its many modern dressings, or even beneath heaps of ruins; one -must love it so that one is not ashamed of it in its stunted form, and -one must above all be on one's guard against confounding it with what -now disports itself proudly as 'Up-to-date German culture.' The German -spirit is very far from <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>being on friendly times with this up-to-date -culture: and precisely in those spheres where the latter complains of -a lack of culture the real German spirit has survived, though perhaps -not always with a graceful, but more often an ungraceful, exterior. On -the other hand, that which now grandiloquently assumes the title of -'German culture' is a sort of cosmopolitan aggregate, which bears the -same relation to the German spirit as Journalism does to Schiller or -Meyerbeer to Beethoven: here the strongest influence at work is the -fundamentally and thoroughly un-German civilisation of France, which -is aped neither with talent nor with taste, and the imitation of which -gives the society, the press, the art, and the literary style of -Germany their pharisaical character. Naturally the copy nowhere -produces the really artistic effect which the original, grown out of -the heart of Roman civilisation, is able to produce almost to this day -in France. Let any one who wishes to see the full force of this -contrast compare our most noted novelists with the less noted ones of -France or Italy: he will recognise in both the same doubtful -tendencies and aims, as also the same still more doubtful means, but -in France he will find them coupled with artistic earnestness, at -least with grammatical purity, and often with beauty, while in their -every feature he will recognise the echo of a corresponding social -culture. In Germany, on the other hand, they will strike him as -unoriginal, flabby, filled with dressing-gown thoughts and -expressions, unpleasantly spread out, and therewithal possessing no -background of social form. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>At the most, owing to their scholarly -mannerisms and display of knowledge, he will be reminded of the fact -that in Latin countries it is the artistically-trained man, and that -in Germany it is the abortive scholar, who becomes a journalist. With -this would-be German and thoroughly unoriginal culture, the German can -nowhere reckon upon victory: the Frenchman and the Italian will always -get the better of him in this respect, while, in regard to the clever -imitation of a foreign culture, the Russian, above all, will always be -his superior.</p> - -<p>"We are therefore all the more anxious to hold fast to that German -spirit which revealed itself in the German Reformation, and in German -music, and which has shown its enduring and genuine strength in the -enormous courage and severity of German philosophy and in the loyalty -of the German soldier, which has been tested quite recently. From it -we expect a victory over that 'up-to-date' pseudo-culture which is now -the fashion. What we should hope for the future is that schools may -draw the real school of culture into this struggle, and kindle the -flame of enthusiasm in the younger generation, more particularly in -public schools, for that which is truly German; and in this way -so-called classical education will resume its natural place and -recover its one possible starting-point.</p> - -<p>"A thorough reformation and purification of the public school can only -be the outcome of a profound and powerful reformation and purification -of the German spirit. It is a very complex and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>difficult task to find -the border-line which joins the heart of the Germanic spirit with the -genius of Greece. Not, however, before the noblest needs of genuine -German genius snatch at the hand of this genius of Greece as at a firm -post in the torrent of barbarity, not before a devouring yearning for -this genius of Greece takes possession of German genius, and not -before that view of the Greek home, on which Schiller and Goethe, -after enormous exertions, were able to feast their eyes, has become -the Mecca of the best and most gifted men, will the aim of classical -education in public schools acquire any definition; and they at least -will not be to blame who teach ever so little science and learning in -public schools, in order to keep a definite and at the same time ideal -aim in their eyes, and to rescue their pupils from that glistening -phantom which now allows itself to be called 'culture' and -'education.' This is the sad plight of the public school of to-day: -the narrowest views remain in a certain measure right, because no one -seems able to reach or, at least, to indicate the spot where all these -views culminate in error."</p> - -<p>"No one?" the philosopher's pupil inquired with a slight quaver in his -voice; and both men were silent.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> It is not practicable to translate these German solecisms by -similar instances of English solecisms. The reader who is interested -in the subject will find plenty of material in a book like the Oxford -<i>King's English</i>.</p></div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> German: <i>Formelle Bildung.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> German: <i>Materielle Bildung.</i></p></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> -<h4><a name="THIRD_LECTURE" id="THIRD_LECTURE">THIRD LECTURE.</a></h4> - -<h5>(<i>Delivered on the 27th of February 1872.</i>)</h5> - - -<p><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LADIES AND GENTLEME</span>N,—At the close of my last lecture, the -conversation to which I was a listener, and the outlines of which, as -I clearly recollect them, I am now trying to lay before you, was -interrupted by a long and solemn pause. Both the philosopher and his -companion sat silent, sunk in deep dejection: the peculiarly critical -state of that important educational institution, the German public -school, lay upon their souls like a heavy burden, which one single, -well-meaning individual is not strong enough to remove, and the -multitude, though strong, not well meaning enough.</p> - -<p>Our solitary thinkers were perturbed by two facts: by clearly -perceiving on the one hand that what might rightly be called -"classical education" was now only a far-off ideal, a castle in the -air, which could not possibly be built as a reality on the foundations -of our present educational system, and that, on the other hand, what -was now, with customary and unopposed euphemism, pointed to as -"classical education" could only claim the value of a pretentious -illusion, the best effect of which was that the expression "classical -education" still lived on and had not yet lost its pathetic sound. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>These two worthy men saw clearly, by the system of instruction in -vogue, that the time was not yet ripe for a higher culture, a culture -founded upon that of the ancients: the neglected state of linguistic -instruction; the forcing of students into learned historical paths, -instead of giving them a practical training; the connection of certain -practices, encouraged in the public schools, with the objectionable -spirit of our journalistic publicity—all these easily perceptible -phenomena of the teaching of German led to the painful certainty that -the most beneficial of those forces which have come down to us from -classical antiquity are not yet known in our public schools: forces -which would train students for the struggle against the barbarism of -the present age, and which will perhaps once more transform the public -schools into the arsenals and workshops of this struggle.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, it would seem in the meantime as if the spirit of -antiquity, in its fundamental principles, had already been driven away -from the portals of the public schools, and as if here also the gates -were thrown open as widely as possible to the be-flattered and -pampered type of our present self-styled "German culture." And if the -solitary talkers caught a glimpse of a single ray of hope, it was that -things would have to become still worse, that what was as yet divined -only by the few would soon be clearly perceived by the many, and that -then the time for honest and resolute men for the earnest -consideration of the scope of the education of the masses would not be -far distant.</p> - -<p>After a few minutes' silent reflection, the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>philosopher's companion -turned to him and said: "You used to hold out hopes to me, but now you -have done more: you have widened my intelligence, and with it my -strength and courage: now indeed can I look on the field of battle -with more hardihood, now indeed do I repent of my too hasty flight. We -want nothing for ourselves, and it should be nothing to us how many -individuals may fall in this battle, or whether we ourselves may be -among the first. Just because we take this matter so seriously, we -should not take our own poor selves so seriously: at the very moment -we are falling some one else will grasp the banner of our faith. I -will not even consider whether I am strong enough for such a fight, -whether I can offer sufficient resistance; it may even be an -honourable death to fall to the accompaniment of the mocking laughter -of such enemies, whose seriousness has frequently seemed to us to be -something ridiculous. When I think how my contemporaries prepared -themselves for the highest posts in the scholastic profession, as I -myself have done, then I know how we often laughed at the exact -contrary, and grew serious over something quite different——"</p> - -<p>"Now, my friend," interrupted the philosopher, laughingly, "you speak -as one who would fain dive into the water without being able to swim, -and who fears something even more than the mere drowning; <i>not</i> being -drowned, but laughed at. But being laughed at should be the very last -thing for us to dread; for we are in a sphere where there are too many -truths to tell, too many formidable, painful, unpardonable truths, for -us to escape hatred, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>and only fury here and there will give rise to -some sort of embarrassed laughter. Just think of the innumerable crowd -of teachers, who, in all good faith, have assimilated the system of -education which has prevailed up to the present, that they may -cheerfully and without over-much deliberation carry it further on. -What do you think it will seem like to these men when they hear of -projects from which they are excluded <i>beneficio naturæ</i>; of commands -which their mediocre abilities are totally unable to carry out; of -hopes which find no echo in them; of battles the war-cries of which -they do not understand, and in the fighting of which they can take -part only as dull and obtuse rank and file? But, without exaggeration, -that must necessarily be the position of practically all the teachers -in our higher educational establishments: and indeed we cannot wonder -at this when we consider how such a teacher originates, how he -<i>becomes</i> a teacher of such high status. Such a large number of higher -educational establishments are now to be found everywhere that far -more teachers will continue to be required for them than the nature of -even a highly-gifted people can produce; and thus an inordinate stream -of undesirables flows into these institutions, who, however, by their -preponderating numbers and their instinct of 'similis simile gaudet' -gradually come to determine the nature of these institutions. There -may be a few people, hopelessly unfamiliar with pedagogical matters, -who believe that our present profusion of public schools and teachers, -which is manifestly out of all proportion, can be changed into a real -profusion, an <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span><i>ubertas ingenii</i>, merely by a few rules and -regulations, and without any reduction in the number of these -institutions. But we may surely be unanimous in recognising that by -the very nature of things only an exceedingly small number of people -are destined for a true course of education, and that a much smaller -number of higher educational establishments would suffice for their -further development, but that, in view of the present large numbers of -educational institutions, those for whom in general such institutions -ought only to be established must feel themselves to be the least -facilitated in their progress.</p> - -<p>"The same holds good in regard to teachers. It is precisely the best -teachers—those who, generally speaking, judged by a high standard, -are worthy of this honourable name—who are now perhaps the least -fitted, in view of the present standing of our public schools, for the -education of these unselected youths, huddled together in a confused -heap; but who must rather, to a certain extent, keep hidden from them -the best they could give: and, on the other hand, by far the larger -number of these teachers feel themselves quite at home in these -institutions, as their moderate abilities stand in a kind of -harmonious relationship to the dullness of their pupils. It is from -this majority that we hear the ever-resounding call for the -establishment of new public schools and higher educational -institutions: we are living in an age which, by ringing the changes on -its deafening and continual cry, would certainly give one the -impression that there was an unprecedented thirst for culture which -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> -eagerly sought to be quenched. But it is just at this point that one -should learn to hear aright: it is here, without being disconcerted by -the thundering noise of the education-mongers, that we must confront -those who talk so tirelessly about the educational necessities of -their time. Then we should meet with a strange disillusionment, one -which we, my good friend, have often met with: those blatant heralds -of educational needs, when examined at close quarters, are suddenly -seen to be transformed into zealous, yea, fanatical opponents of true -culture, <i>i.e.</i> all those who hold fast to the aristocratic nature of -the mind; for, at bottom, they regard as their goal the emancipation -of the masses from the mastery of the great few; they seek to -overthrow the most sacred hierarchy in the kingdom of the -intellect—the servitude of the masses, their submissive obedience, -their instinct of loyalty to the rule of genius.</p> - -<p>"I have long accustomed myself to look with caution upon those who are -ardent in the cause of the so-called 'education of the people' in the -common meaning of the phrase; since for the most part they desire for -themselves, consciously or unconsciously, absolutely unlimited -freedom, which must inevitably degenerate into something resembling -the saturnalia of barbaric times, and which the sacred hierarchy of -nature will never grant them. They were born to serve and to obey; and -every moment in which their limping or crawling or broken-winded -thoughts are at work shows us clearly out of which clay nature moulded -them, and what trade mark she branded thereon. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>The education of the -masses cannot, therefore, be our aim; but rather the education of a -few picked men for great and lasting works. We well know that a just -posterity judges the collective intellectual state of a time only by -those few great and lonely figures of the period, and gives its -decision in accordance with the manner in which they are recognised, -encouraged, and honoured, or, on the other hand, in which they are -snubbed, elbowed aside, and kept down. What is called the 'education -of the masses' cannot be accomplished except with difficulty; and even -if a system of universal compulsory education be applied, they can -only be reached outwardly: those individual lower levels where, -generally speaking, the masses come into contact with culture, where -the people nourishes its religious instinct, where it poetises its -mythological images, where it keeps up its faith in its customs, -privileges, native soil, and language—all these levels can scarcely -be reached by direct means, and in any case only by violent -demolition. And, in serious matters of this kind, to hasten forward -the progress of the education of the people means simply the -postponement of this violent demolition, and the maintenance of that -wholesome unconsciousness, that sound sleep, of the people, without -which counter-action and remedy no culture, with the exhausting strain -and excitement of its own actions, can make any headway.</p> - -<p>"We know, however, what the aspiration is of those who would disturb -the healthy slumber of the people, and continually call out to them: -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>'Keep your eyes open! Be sensible! Be wise!' we know the aim of those -who profess to satisfy excessive educational requirements by means of -an extraordinary increase in the number of educational institutions -and the conceited tribe of teachers originated thereby. These very -people, using these very means, are fighting against the natural -hierarchy in the realm of the intellect, and destroying the roots of -all those noble and sublime plastic forces which have their material -origin in the unconsciousness of the people, and which fittingly -terminate in the procreation of genius and its due guidance and proper -training. It is only in the simile of the mother that we can grasp the -meaning and the responsibility of the true education of the people in -respect to genius: its real origin is not to be found in such -education; it has, so to speak, only a metaphysical source, a -metaphysical home. But for the genius to make his appearance; for him -to emerge from among the people; to portray the reflected picture, as -it were, the dazzling brilliancy of the peculiar colours of this -people; to depict the noble destiny of a people in the similitude of -an individual in a work which will last for all time, thereby making -his nation itself eternal, and redeeming it from the ever-shifting -element of transient things: all this is possible for the genius only -when he has been brought up and come to maturity in the tender care of -the culture of a people; whilst, on the other hand, without this -sheltering home, the genius will not, generally speaking, be able to -rise to the height of his eternal flight, but will at an early moment, -like a stranger <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>weather-driven upon a bleak, snow-covered desert, -slink away from the inhospitable land."</p> - -<p>"You astonish me with such a metaphysics of genius," said the -teacher's companion, "and I have only a hazy conception of the -accuracy of your similitude. On the other hand, I fully understand -what you have said about the surplus of public schools and the -corresponding surplus of higher grade teachers; and in this regard I -myself have collected some information which assures me that the -educational tendency of the public school <i>must</i> right itself by this -very surplus of teachers who have really nothing at all to do with -education, and who are called into existence and pursue this path -solely because there is a demand for them. Every man who, in an -unexpected moment of enlightenment, has convinced himself of the -singularity and inaccessibility of Hellenic antiquity, and has warded -off this conviction after an exhausting struggle—every such man knows -that the door leading to this enlightenment will never remain open to -all comers; and he deems it absurd, yea disgraceful, to use the Greeks -as he would any other tool he employs when following his profession or -earning his living, shamelessly fumbling with coarse hands amidst the -relics of these holy men. This brazen and vulgar feeling is, however, -most common in the profession from which the largest numbers of -teachers for the public schools are drawn, the philological -profession, wherefore the reproduction and continuation of such a -feeling in the public school will not surprise us.</p> - -<p>"Just look at the younger generation of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>philologists: how seldom we -see in them that humble feeling that we, when compared with such a -world as it was, have no right to exist at all: how coolly and -fearlessly, as compared with us, did that young brood build its -miserable nests in the midst of the magnificent temples! A powerful -voice from every nook and cranny should ring in the ears of those who, -from the day they begin their connection with the university, roam at -will with such self-complacency and shamelessness among the -awe-inspiring relics of that noble civilisation: 'Hence, ye -uninitiated, who will never be initiated; fly away in silence and -shame from these sacred chambers!' But this voice speaks in vain; for -one must to some extent be a Greek to understand a Greek curse of -excommunication. But these people I am speaking of are so barbaric -that they dispose of these relics to suit themselves: all their modern -conveniences and fancies are brought with them and concealed among -those ancient pillars and tombstones, and it gives rise to great -rejoicing when somebody finds, among the dust and cobwebs of -antiquity, something that he himself had slyly hidden there not so -very long before. One of them makes verses and takes care to consult -Hesychius' Lexicon. Something there immediately assures him that he is -destined to be an imitator of Æschylus, and leads him to believe, -indeed, that he 'has something in common with' Æschylus: the miserable -poetaster! Yet another peers with the suspicious eye of a policeman -into every contradiction, feven into <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>the shadow of every -contradiction, of which Homer was guilty: he fritters away his life in -tearing Homeric rags to tatters and sewing them together again, rags -that he himself was the first to filch from the poet's kingly robe. A -third feels ill at ease when examining all the mysterious and -orgiastic sides of antiquity: he makes up his mind once and for all to -let the enlightened Apollo alone pass without dispute, and to see in -the Athenian a gay and intelligent but nevertheless somewhat immoral -Apollonian. What a deep breath he draws when he succeeds in raising -yet another dark corner of antiquity to the level of his own -intelligence!—when, for example, he discovers in Pythagoras a -colleague who is as enthusiastic as himself in arguing about politics. -Another racks his brains as to why OEdipus was condemned by fate to -perform such abominable deeds—killing his father, marrying his -mother. Where lies the blame! Where the poetic justice! Suddenly it -occurs to him: OEdipus was a passionate fellow, lacking all Christian -gentleness—he even fell into an unbecoming rage when Tiresias called -him a monster and the curse of the whole country. Be humble and meek! -was what Sophocles tried to teach, otherwise you will have to marry -your mothers and kill your fathers! Others, again, pass their lives in -counting the number of verses written by Greek and Roman poets, and -are delighted with the proportions 7:13 = 14:26. Finally, one of them -brings forward his solution of a question, such as the Homeric poems -considered from the standpoint<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> of prepositions, and thinks he has -drawn the truth from the bottom of the well with ἀνά and κατά. All -of them, however, with the most widely separated aims in view, dig and -burrow in Greek soil with a restlessness and a blundering awkwardness -that must surely be painful to a true friend of antiquity: and thus it -comes to pass that I should like to take by the hand every talented or -talentless man who feels a certain professional inclination urging him -on to the study of antiquity, and harangue him as follows: 'Young sir, -do you know what perils threaten you, with your little stock of school -learning, before you become a man in the full sense of the word? Have -you heard that, according to Aristotle, it is by no means a tragic -death to be slain by a statue? Does that surprise you? Know, then, -that for centuries philologists have been trying, with ever-failing -strength, to re-erect the fallen statue of Greek antiquity, but -without success; for it is a colossus around which single individual -men crawl like pygmies. The leverage of the united representatives of -modern culture is utilised for the purpose; but it invariably happens -that the huge column is scarcely more than lifted from the ground when -it falls down again, crushing beneath its weight the luckless wights -under it. That, however, may be tolerated, for every being must perish -by some means or other; but who is there to guarantee that during all -these attempts the statue itself will not break in pieces! The -philologists are being crushed by the Greeks—perhaps we can <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>put up -with this—but antiquity itself threatens to be crushed by these -philologists! Think that over, you easy-going young man; and turn -back, lest you too should not be an iconoclast!'"</p> - -<p>"Indeed," said the philosopher, laughing, "there are many philologists -who have turned back as you so much desire, and I notice a great -contrast with my own youthful experience. Consciously or -unconsciously, large numbers of them have concluded that it is -hopeless and useless for them to come into direct contact with -classical antiquity, hence they are inclined to look upon this study -as barren, superseded, out-of-date. This herd has turned with much -greater zest to the science of language: here in this wide expanse of -virgin soil, where even the most mediocre gifts can be turned to -account, and where a kind of insipidity and dullness is even looked -upon as decided talent, with the novelty and uncertainty of methods -and the constant danger of making fantastic mistakes—here, where dull -regimental routine and discipline are desiderata—here the newcomer is -no longer frightened by the majestic and warning voice that rises from -the ruins of antiquity: here every one is welcomed with open arms, -including even him who never arrived at any uncommon impression or -noteworthy thought after a perusal of Sophocles and Aristophanes, with -the result that they end in an etymological tangle, or are seduced -into collecting the fragments of out-of-the-way dialects—and their -time is spent in associating and dissociating, collecting and -scattering, and running hither and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>thither consulting books. And such -a usefully employed philologist would now fain be a teacher! He now -undertakes to teach the youth of the public schools something about -the ancient writers, although he himself has read them without any -particular impression, much less with insight! What a dilemma! -Antiquity has said nothing to him, consequently he has nothing to say -about antiquity. A sudden thought strikes him: why is he a skilled -philologist at all! Why did these authors write Latin and Greek! And -with a light heart he immediately begins to etymologise with Homer, -calling Lithuanian or Ecclesiastical Slavonic, or, above all, the -sacred Sanskrit, to his assistance: as if Greek lessons were merely -the excuse for a general introduction to the study of languages, and -as if Homer were lacking in only one respect, namely, not being -written in pre-Indogermanic. Whoever is acquainted with our present -public schools well knows what a wide gulf separates their teachers -from classicism, and how, from a feeling of this want, comparative -philology and allied professions have increased their numbers to such -an unheard-of degree."</p> - -<p>"What I mean is," said the other, "it would depend upon whether a -teacher of classical culture did <i>not</i> confuse his Greeks and Romans -with the other peoples, the barbarians, whether he could <i>never</i> put -Greek and Latin <i>on a level with</i> other languages: so far as his -classicalism is concerned, it is a matter of indifference whether the -framework of these languages concurs with or is in any way related to -the other languages: such a concurrence <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>does not interest him at all; -his real concern is with <i>what is not common to both</i>, with what shows -him that those two peoples were not barbarians as compared with the -others—in so far, of course, as he is a true teacher of culture and -models himself after the majestic patterns of the classics."</p> - -<p>"I may be wrong," said the philosopher, "but I suspect that, owing to -the way in which Latin and Greek are now taught in schools, the -accurate grasp of these languages, the ability to speak and write them -with ease, is lost, and that is something in which my own generation -distinguished itself—a generation, indeed, whose few survivers have -by this time grown old; whilst, on the other hand, the present -teachers seem to impress their pupils with the genetic and historical -importance of the subject to such an extent that, at best, their -scholars ultimately turn into little Sanskritists, etymological -spitfires, or reckless conjecturers; but not one of them can read his -Plato or Tacitus with pleasure, as we old folk can. The public schools -may still be seats of learning: not, however of <i>the</i> learning which, -as it were, is only the natural and involuntary auxiliary of a culture -that is directed towards the noblest ends; but rather of that culture -which might be compared to the hypertrophical swelling of an unhealthy -body. The public schools are certainly the seats of this obesity, if, -indeed, they have not degenerated into the abodes of that elegant -barbarism which is boasted of as being 'German culture of the -present!'"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>"But," asked the other, "what is to become of that large body of -teachers who have not been endowed with a true gift for culture, and -who set up as teachers merely to gain a livelihood from the -profession, because there is a demand for them, because a superfluity -of schools brings with it a superfluity of teachers? Where shall they -go when antiquity peremptorily orders them to withdraw? Must they not -be sacrificed to those powers of the present who, day after day, call -out to them from the never-ending columns of the press 'We are -culture! We are education! We are at the zenith! We are the apexes of -the pyramids! We are the aims of universal history!'—when they hear -the seductive promises, when the shameful signs of non-culture, the -plebeian publicity of the so-called 'interests of culture' are -extolled for their benefit in magazines and newspapers as an entirely -new and the best possible, full-grown form of culture! Whither shall -the poor fellows fly when they feel the presentiment that these -promises are not true—where but to the most obtuse, sterile -scientificality, that here the shriek of culture may no longer be -audible to them? Pursued in this way, must they not end, like the -ostrich, by burying their heads in the sand? Is it not a real -happiness for them, buried as they are among dialects, etymologies, -and conjectures, to lead a life like that of the ants, even though -they are miles removed from true culture, if only they can close their -ears tightly and be deaf to the voice of the 'elegant' culture of the -time."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>"You are right, my friend," said the philosopher, "but whence comes the -urgent necessity for a surplus of schools for culture, which further -gives rise to the necessity for a surplus of teachers?—when we so -clearly see that the demand for a surplus springs from a sphere which is -hostile to culture, and that the consequences of this surplus only lead -to non-culture. Indeed, we can discuss this dire necessity only in so -far as the modern State is willing to discuss these things with us, and -is prepared to follow up its demands by force: which phenomenon -certainly makes the same impression upon most people as if they were -addressed by the eternal law of things. For the rest, a 'Culture-State,' -to use the current expression, which makes such demands, is rather a -novelty, and has only come to a 'self-understanding' within the last -half century, <i>i.e.</i> in a period when (to use the favourite popular -word) so many 'self-understood' things came into being, but which are in -themselves not 'self-understood' at all. This right to higher education -has been taken so seriously by the most powerful of modern -States—Prussia—that the objectionable principle it has adopted, taken -in connection with the well-known daring and hardihood of this State, is -seen to have a menacing and dangerous consequence for the true German -spirit; for we see endeavours being made in this quarter to raise the -public school, formally systematised, up to the so-called 'level of the -time.' Here is to be found all that mechanism by means of which as many -scholars as possible are urged on to take up courses of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>public school -training: here, indeed, the State has its most powerful inducement—the -concession of certain privileges respecting military service, with the -natural consequence that, according to the unprejudiced evidence of -statistical officials, by this, and by this only, can we explain the -universal congestion of all Prussian public schools, and the urgent and -continual need for new ones. What more can the State do for a surplus of -educational institutions than bring all the higher and the majority of -the lower civil service appointments, the right of entry to the -universities, and even the most influential military posts into close -connection with the public school: and all this in a country where both -universal military service and the highest offices of the State -unconsciously attract all gifted natures to them. The public school is -here looked upon as an honourable aim, and every one who feels himself -urged on to the sphere of government will be found on his way to it. -This is a new and quite original occurrence: the State assumes the -attitude of a mystogogue of culture, and, whilst it promotes its own -ends, it obliges every one of its servants not to appear in its presence -without the torch of universal State education in their hands, by the -flickering light of which they may again recognise the State as the -highest goal, as the reward of all their strivings after education.</p> - -<p>"Now this last phenomenon should indeed surprise them; it should -remind them of that allied, slowly understood tendency of a philosophy -which was formerly promoted for reasons of State, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>namely, the -tendency of the Hegelian philosophy: yea, it would perhaps be no -exaggeration to say that, in the subordination of all strivings after -education to reasons of State, Prussia has appropriated, with success, -the principle and the useful heirloom of the Hegelian philosophy, -whose apotheosis of the State in <i>this</i> subordination certainly -reaches its height."</p> - -<p>"But," said the philosopher's companion, "what purposes can the State -have in view with such a strange aim? For that it has some State -objects in view is seen in the manner in which the conditions of -Prussian schools are admired by, meditated upon, and occasionally -imitated by other States. These other States obviously presuppose -something here that, if adopted, would tend towards the maintenance -and power of the State, like our well-known and popular conscription. -Where everyone proudly wears his soldier's uniform at regular -intervals, where almost every one has absorbed a uniform type of -national culture through the public schools, enthusiastic hyperboles -may well be uttered concerning the systems employed in former times, -and a form of State omnipotence which was attained only in antiquity, -and which almost every young man, by both instinct and training, -thinks it is the crowning glory and highest aim of human beings to -reach."</p> - -<p>"Such a comparison," said the philosopher, "would be quite -hyperbolical, and would not hobble along on one leg only. For, indeed, -the ancient State emphatically did not share the utilitarian point of -view of recognising as culture only <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>what was directly useful to the -State itself, and was far from wishing to destroy those impulses which -did not seem to be immediately applicable. For this very reason the -profound Greek had for the State that strong feeling of admiration and -thankfulness which is so distasteful to modern men; because he clearly -recognised not only that without such State protection the germs of -his culture could not develop, but also that all his inimitable and -perennial culture had flourished so luxuriantly under the wise and -careful guardianship of the protection afforded by the State. The -State was for his culture not a supervisor, regulator, and watchman, -but a vigorous and muscular companion and friend, ready for war, who -accompanied his noble, admired, and, as it were, ethereal friend -through disagreeable reality, earning his thanks therefor. This, -however, does not happen when a modern State lays claim to such hearty -gratitude because it renders such chivalrous service to German culture -and art: for in this regard its past is as ignominious as its present, -as a proof of which we have but to think of the manner in which the -memory of our great poets and artists is celebrated in German cities, -and how the highest objects of these German masters are supported on -the part of the State.</p> - -<p>"There must therefore be peculiar circumstances surrounding both this -purpose towards which the State is tending, and which always promotes -what is here called 'education'; and surrounding likewise the culture -thus promoted, which subordinates itself to this purpose of the State. -With the real German spirit and the education derived therefrom, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>such -as I have slowly outlined for you, this purpose of the State is at -war, hiddenly or openly: <i>the</i> spirit of education, which is welcomed -and encouraged with such interest by the State, and owing to which the -schools of this country are so much admired abroad, must accordingly -originate in a sphere that never comes into contact with this true -German spirit: with that spirit which speaks to us so wondrously from -the inner heart of the German Reformation, German music, and German -philosophy, and which, like a noble exile, is regarded with such -indifference and scorn by the luxurious education afforded by the -State. This spirit is a stranger: it passes by in solitary sadness, -and far away from it the censer of pseudo-culture is swung backwards -and forwards, which, amidst the acclamations of 'educated' teachers -and journalists, arrogates to itself its name and privileges, and -metes out insulting treatment to the word 'German.' Why does the State -require that surplus of educational institutions, of teachers? Why -this education of the masses on such an extended scale? Because the -true German spirit is hated, because the aristocratic nature of true -culture is feared, because the people endeavour in this way to drive -single great individuals into self-exile, so that the claims of the -masses to education may be, so to speak, planted down and carefully -tended, in order that the many may in this way endeavour to escape the -rigid and strict discipline of the few great leaders, so that the -masses may be persuaded that they can easily find the path for -themselves—following the guiding star of the State!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>"A new phenomenon! The State as the guiding star of culture! In the -meantime one thing consoles me: this German spirit, which people are -combating so much, and for which they have substituted a gaudily -attired <i>locum tenens</i>, this spirit is brave: it will fight and redeem -itself into a purer age; noble, as it is now, and victorious, as it -one day will be, it will always preserve in its mind a certain pitiful -toleration of the State, if the latter, hard-pressed in the hour of -extremity, secures such a pseudo-culture as its associate. For what, -after all, do we know about the difficult task of governing men, -<i>i.e.</i> to keep law, order, quietness, and peace among millions of -boundlessly egoistical, unjust, unreasonable, dishonourable, envious, -malignant, and hence very narrow-minded and perverse human beings; and -thus to protect the few things that the State has conquered for itself -against covetous neighbours and jealous robbers? Such a hard-pressed -State holds out its arms to any associate, grasps at any straw; and -when such an associate does introduce himself with flowery eloquence, -when he adjudges the State, as Hegel did, to be an 'absolutely -complete ethical organism,' the be-all and end-all of every one's -education, and goes on to indicate how he himself can best promote the -interests of the State—who will be surprised if, without further -parley, the State falls upon his neck and cries aloud in a barbaric -voice of full conviction: 'Yes! Thou art education! Thou art indeed -culture!'"</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> -<h4><a name="FOURTH_LECTURE" id="FOURTH_LECTURE">FOURTH LECTURE.</a></h4> - - -<h5>(<i>Delivered on the 5th of March 1872.</i>)</h5> - - -<p><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LADIES AND GENTLEMEN</span>,—Now that you have followed my tale up to this -point, and that we have made ourselves joint masters of the solitary, -remote, and at times abusive duologue of the philosopher and his -companion, I sincerely hope that you, like strong swimmers, are ready -to proceed on the second half of our journey, especially as I can -promise you that a few other marionettes will appear in the -puppet-play of my adventure, and that if up to the present you have -only been able to do little more than endure what I have been telling -you, the waves of my story will now bear you more quickly and easily -towards the end. In other words we have now come to a turning, and it -would be advisable for us to take a short glance backwards to see what -we think we have gained from such a varied conversation.</p> - -<p>"Remain in your present position," the philosopher seemed to say to -his companion, "for you may cherish hopes. It is more and more clearly -evident that we have no educational institutions at all; but that we -ought to have them. Our public schools—established, it would seem, -for this high object—have either become the nurseries <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>of a -reprehensible culture which repels the true culture with profound -hatred—<i>i.e.</i> a true, aristocratic culture, founded upon a few -carefully chosen minds; or they foster a micrological and sterile -learning which, while it is far removed from culture, has at least -this merit, that it avoids that reprehensible culture as well as the -true culture." The philosopher had particularly drawn his companion's -attention to the strange corruption which must have entered into the -heart of culture when the State thought itself capable of tyrannising -over it and of attaining its ends through it; and further when the -State, in conjunction with this culture, struggled against other -hostile forces as well as against <i>the</i> spirit which the philosopher -ventured to call the "true German spirit." This spirit, linked to the -Greeks by the noblest ties, and shown by its past history to have been -steadfast and courageous, pure and lofty in its aims, its faculties -qualifying it for the high task of freeing modern man from the curse -of modernity—this spirit is condemned to live apart, banished from -its inheritance. But when its slow, painful tones of woe resound -through the desert of the present, then the overladen and gaily-decked -caravan of culture is pulled up short, horror-stricken. We must not -only astonish, but terrify—such was the philosopher's opinion: not to -fly shamefully away, but to take the offensive, was his advice; but he -especially counselled his companion not to ponder too anxiously over -the individual from whom, through a higher instinct, this aversion for -the present barbarism proceeded, "Let it perish: <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>the Pythian god had -no difficulty in finding a new tripod, a second Pythia, so long, at -least, as the mystic cold vapours rose from the earth."</p> - -<p>The philosopher once more began to speak: "Be careful to remember, my -friend," said he, "there are two things you must not confuse. A man -must learn a great deal that he may live and take part in the struggle -for existence; but everything that he as an individual learns and does -with this end in view has nothing whatever to do with culture. This -latter only takes its beginning in a sphere that lies far above the -world of necessity, indigence, and struggle for existence. The -question now is to what extent a man values his ego in comparison with -other egos, how much of his strength he uses up in the endeavour to -earn his living. Many a one, by stoically confining his needs within a -narrow compass, will shortly and easily reach the sphere in which he -may forget, and, as it were, shake off his ego, so that he can enjoy -perpetual youth in a solar system of timeless and impersonal things. -Another widens the scope and needs of his ego as much as possible, and -builds the mausoleum of this ego in vast proportions, as if he were -prepared to fight and conquer that terrible adversary, Time. In this -instinct also we may see a longing for immortality: wealth and power, -wisdom, presence of mind, eloquence, a flourishing outward aspect, a -renowned name—all these are merely turned into the means by which an -insatiable, personal will to live craves for new life, with which, -again, it hankers after an eternity that is at last seen to be -illusory.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>"But even in this highest form of the ego, in the enhanced needs of -such a distended and, as it were, collective individual, true culture -is never touched upon; and if, for example, art is sought after, only -its disseminating and stimulating actions come into prominence, <i>i.e.</i> -those which least give rise to pure and noble art, and most of all to -low and degraded forms of it. For in all his efforts, however great -and exceptional they seem to the onlooker, he never succeeds in -freeing himself from his own hankering and restless personality: that -illuminated, ethereal sphere where one may contemplate without the -obstruction of one's own personality continually recedes from him—and -thus, let him learn, travel, and collect as he may, he must always -live an exiled life at a remote distance from a higher life and from -true culture. For true culture would scorn to contaminate itself with -the needy and covetous individual; it well knows how to give the slip -to the man who would fain employ it as a means of attaining to -egoistic ends; and if any one cherishes the belief that he has firmly -secured it as a means of livelihood, and that he can procure the -necessities of life by its sedulous cultivation, then it suddenly -steals away with noiseless steps and an air of derisive mockery.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> - -<p>"I will thus ask you, my friend, not to confound this culture, this -sensitive, fastidious, ethereal goddess, with that useful -maid-of-all-work which is also called 'culture,' but which is only -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>the intellectual servant and counsellor of one's practical -necessities, wants, and means of livelihood Every kind of training, -however, which holds out the prospect of bread-winning as its end and -aim, is not a training for culture as we understand the word; but -merely a collection of precepts and directions to show how, in the -struggle for existence, a man may preserve and protect his own person. -It may be freely admitted that for the great majority of men such a -course of instruction is of the highest importance; and the more -arduous the struggle is the more intensely must the young man strain -every nerve to utilise his strength to the best advantage.</p> - -<p>"But—let no one think for a moment that the schools which urge him on -to this struggle and prepare him for it are in any way seriously to be -considered as establishments of culture. They are institutions which -teach one how to take part in the battle of life; whether they promise -to turn out civil servants, or merchants, or officers, or wholesale -dealers, or farmers, or physicians, or men with a technical training. -The regulations and standards prevailing at such institutions differ -from those in a true educational institution; and what in the latter -is permitted, and even freely held out as often as possible, ought to -be considered as a criminal offence in the former.</p> - -<p>"Let me give you an example. If you wish to guide a young man on the -path of true culture, beware of interrupting his naive, confident, -and, as it were, immediate and personal relationship with nature. The -woods, the rocks, the winds, the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>vulture, the flowers, the butterfly, -the meads, the mountain slopes, must all speak to him in their own -language; in them he must, as it were, come to know himself again in -countless reflections and images, in a variegated round of changing -visions; and in this way he will unconsciously and gradually feel the -metaphysical unity of all things in the great image of nature, and at -the same time tranquillise his soul in the contemplation of her -eternal endurance and necessity. But how many young men should be -permitted to grow up in such close and almost personal proximity to -nature! The others must learn another truth betimes: how to subdue -nature to themselves. Here is an end of this naive metaphysics; and -the physiology of plants and animals, geology, inorganic chemistry, -force their devotees to view nature from an altogether different -standpoint. What is lost by this new point of view is not only a -poetical phantasmagoria, but the instinctive, true, and unique point -of view, instead of which we have shrewd and clever calculations, and, -so to speak, overreachings of nature. Thus to the truly cultured man -is vouchsafed the inestimable benefit of being able to remain -faithful, without a break, to the contemplative instincts of his -childhood, and so to attain to a calmness, unity, consistency, and -harmony which can never be even thought of by a man who is compelled -to fight in the struggle for existence.</p> - -<p>"You must not think, however, that I wish to withhold all praise from -our primary and secondary schools: I honour the seminaries where boys -learn <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>arithmetic and master modern languages, and study geography and -the marvellous discoveries made in natural science. I am quite -prepared to say further that those youths who pass through the better -class of secondary schools are well entitled to make the claims put -forward by the fully-fledged public school boy; and the time is -certainly not far distant when such pupils will be everywhere freely -admitted to the universities and positions under the government, which -has hitherto been the case only with scholars from the public -schools—of our present public schools, be it noted!<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> I cannot, -however, refrain from adding the melancholy reflection: if it be true -that secondary and public schools are, on the whole, working so -heartily in common towards the same ends, and differ from each other -only in such a slight degree, that they may take equal rank before the -tribunal of the State, then we completely lack another kind of -educational institutions: those for the development of culture! To say -the least, the secondary schools cannot be reproached with this; for -they have up to the present propitiously and honourably followed up -tendencies of a lower order, but one nevertheless highly necessary. In -the public schools, however, there is very much less honesty and very -much less ability too; for in them we find an instinctive feeling of -shame, the unconscious perception of the fact that the whole -institution has been ignominiously degraded, and that the sonorous -words of wise and apathetic teachers are contradictory <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>to the dreary, -barbaric, and sterile reality. So there are no true cultural -institutions! And in those very places where a pretence to culture is -still kept up, we find the people more hopeless, atrophied, and -discontented than in the secondary schools, where the so-called -'realistic' subjects are taught! Besides this, only think how immature -and uninformed one must be in the company of such teachers when one -actually misunderstands the rigorously defined philosophical -expressions 'real' and 'realism' to such a degree as to think them the -contraries of mind and matter, and to interpret 'realism' as 'the road -to knowledge, formation, and mastery of reality.'</p> - -<p>"I for my own part know of only two exact contraries: <i>institutions -for teaching culture and institutions for teaching how to succeed in -life</i>. All our present institutions belong to the second class; but I -am speaking only of the first."</p> - -<p>About two hours went by while the philosophically-minded couple -chatted about such startling questions. Night slowly fell in the -meantime; and when in the twilight the philosopher's voice had sounded -like natural music through the woods, it now rang out in the profound -darkness of the night when he was speaking with excitement or even -passionately; his tones hissing and thundering far down the valley, -and reverberating among the trees and rocks. Suddenly he was silent: -he had just repeated, almost pathetically, the words, "we have no true -educational institutions; we have no true educational institutions!" -when something fell down just in front of him—it might have been a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>fir-cone—and his dog barked and ran towards it. Thus interrupted, the -philosopher raised his head, and suddenly became aware of the -darkness, the cool air, and the lonely situation of himself and his -companion. "Well! What are we about!" he ejaculated, "it's dark. You -know whom we were expecting here; but he hasn't come. We have waited -in vain; let us go."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I must now, ladies and gentlemen, convey to you the impressions -experienced by my friend and myself as we eagerly listened to this -conversation, which we heard distinctly in our hiding-place. I have -already told you that at that place and at that hour we had intended -to hold a festival in commemoration of something: and this something -had to do with nothing else than matters concerning educational -training, of which we, in our own youthful opinions, had garnered a -plentiful harvest during our past life. We were thus disposed to -remember with gratitude the institution which we had at one time -thought out for ourselves at that very spot in order, as I have -already mentioned, that we might reciprocally encourage and watch over -one another's educational impulses. But a sudden and unexpected light -was thrown on all that past life as we silently gave ourselves up to -the vehement words of the philosopher. As when a traveller, walking -heedlessly across unknown ground, suddenly puts his foot over the edge -of a cliff, so it now seemed to us that we had hastened to meet the -great danger rather than run away from it. Here at this spot, so -memorable <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>to us, we heard the warning: "Back! Not another step! Know -you not whither your footsteps tend, whither this deceitful path is -luring you?"</p> - -<p>It seemed to us that we now knew, and our feeling of overflowing -thankfulness impelled us so irresistibly towards our earnest -counsellor and trusty Eckart, that both of us sprang up at the same -moment and rushed towards the philosopher to embrace him. He was just -about to move off, and had already turned sideways when we rushed up -to him. The dog turned sharply round and barked, thinking doubtless, -like the philosopher's companion, of an attempt at robbery rather than -an enraptured embrace. It was plain that he had forgotten us. In a -word, he ran away. Our embrace was a miserable failure when we did -overtake him; for my friend gave a loud yell as the dog bit him, and -the philosopher himself sprang away from me with such force that we -both fell. What with the dog and the men there was a scramble that -lasted a few minutes, until my friend began to call out loudly, -parodying the philosopher's own words: "In the name of all culture and -pseudo-culture, what does the silly dog want with us? Hence, you -confounded dog; you uninitiated, never to be initiated; hasten away -from us, silent and ashamed!" After this outburst matters were cleared -up to some extent, at any rate so far as they could be cleared up in -the darkness of the wood. "Oh, it's you!" ejaculated the philosopher, -"our duellists! How you startled us! What on earth drives you to jump -out upon us like this at such a time of the night?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>"Joy, thankfulness, and reverence," said we, shaking the old man by -the hand, whilst the dog barked as if he understood, "we can't let you -go without telling you this. And if you are to understand everything -you must not go away just yet; we want to ask you about so many things -that lie heavily on our hearts. Stay yet awhile; we know every foot of -the way and can accompany you afterwards. The gentleman you expect may -yet turn up. Look over yonder on the Rhine: what is that we see so -clearly floating on the surface of the water as if surrounded by the -light of many torches? It is there that we may look for your friend, I -would even venture to say that it is he who is coming towards you with -all those lights."</p> - -<p>And so much did we assail the surprised old man with our entreaties, -promises, and fantastic delusions, that we persuaded the philosopher -to walk to and fro with us on the little plateau, "by learned lumber -undisturbed," as my friend added.</p> - -<p>"Shame on you!" said the philosopher, "if you really want to quote -something, why choose Faust? However, I will give in to you, quotation -or no quotation, if only our young companions will keep still and not -run away as suddenly as they made their appearance, for they are like -will-o'-the-wisps; we are amazed when they are there and again when -they are not there."</p> - -<p>My friend immediately recited—</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Respect, I hope, will teach us how we may</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Our lighter disposition keep at bay.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Our course is only zig-zag as a rule.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> -The philosopher was surprised, and stood still. "You astonish me, you -will-o'-the-wisps," he said; "this is no quagmire we are on now. Of -what use is this ground to you? What does the proximity of a -philosopher mean to you? For around him the air is sharp and clear, -the ground dry and hard. You must find out a more fantastic region for -your zig-zagging inclinations."</p> - -<p>"I think," interrupted the philosopher's companion at this point, "the -gentlemen have already told us that they promised to meet some one -here at this hour; but it seems to me that they listened to our comedy -of education like a chorus, and truly 'idealistic spectators'—for -they did not disturb us; we thought we were alone with each other."</p> - -<p>"Yes, that is true," said the philosopher, "that praise must not be -withheld from them, but it seems to me that they deserve still higher -praise——"</p> - -<p>Here I seized the philosopher's hand and said: "That man must be as -obtuse as a reptile, with his stomach on the ground and his head -buried in mud, who can listen to such a discourse as yours without -becoming earnest and thoughtful, or even excited and indignant. -Self-accusation and annoyance might perhaps cause a few to get angry; -but our impression was quite different: the only thing I do not know -is how exactly to describe it. This hour was so well-timed for us, and -our minds were so well prepared, that we sat there like empty vessels, -and now it seems as if we were filled to overflowing with this new -wisdom: for I no longer know how to help myself, and if some one asked -me what I am thinking of doing to-morrow, or <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>what I have made up my -mind to do with myself from now on, I should not know what to answer. -For it is easy to see that we have up to the present been living and -educating ourselves in the wrong way—but what can we do to cross over -the chasm between to-day and to-morrow?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," acknowledged my friend, "I have a similar feeling, and I ask -the same question: but besides that I feel as if I were frightened -away from German culture by entertaining such high and ideal views of -its task; yea, as if I were unworthy to co-operate with it in carrying -out its aims. I only see a resplendent file of the highest natures -moving towards this goal; I can imagine over what abysses and through -what temptations this procession travels. Who would dare to be so bold -as to join in it?"</p> - -<p>At this point the philosopher's companion again turned to him and -said: "Don't be angry with me when I tell you that I too have a -somewhat similar feeling, which I have not mentioned to you before. -When talking to you I often felt drawn out of myself, as it were, and -inspired with your ardour and hopes till I almost forgot myself. Then -a calmer moment arrives; a piercing wind of reality brings me back to -earth—and then I see the wide gulf between us, over which you -yourself, as in a dream, draw me back again. Then what you call -'culture' merely totters meaninglessly around me or lies heavily on my -breast: it is like a shirt of mail that weighs me down, or a sword -that I cannot wield."</p> - -<p>Our minds, as we thus argued with the philosopher, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>were unanimous, -and, mutually encouraging and stimulating one another, we slowly -walked with him backwards and forwards along the unencumbered space -which had earlier in the day served us as a shooting range. And then, -in the still night, under the peaceful light of hundreds of stars, we -all broke out into a tirade which ran somewhat as follows:—</p> - -<p>"You have told us so much about the genius," we began, "about his -lonely and wearisome journey through the world, as if nature never -exhibited anything but the most diametrical contraries: in one place -the stupid, dull masses, acting by instinct, and then, on a far higher -and more remote plane, the great contemplating few, destined for the -production of immortal works. But now you call these the apexes of the -intellectual pyramid: it would, however, seem that between the broad, -heavily burdened foundation up to the highest of the free and -unencumbered peaks there must be countless intermediate degrees, and -that here we must apply the saying <i>natura non facit saltus</i>. Where -then are we to look for the beginning of what you call culture; where -is the line of demarcation to be drawn between the spheres which are -ruled from below upwards and those which are ruled from above -downwards? And if it be only in connection with these exalted beings -that true culture may be spoken of, how are institutions to be founded -for the uncertain existence of such natures, how can we devise -educational establishments which shall be of benefit only to these -select few? It rather seems to us that such persons <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>know how to find -their own way, and that their full strength is shown in their being -able to walk without the educational crutches necessary for other -people, and thus undisturbed to make their way through the storm and -stress of this rough world just like a phantom."</p> - -<p>We kept on arguing in this fashion, speaking without any great ability -and not putting our thoughts in any special form: but the -philosopher's companion went even further, and said to him: "Just -think of all these great geniuses of whom we are wont to be so proud, -looking upon them as tried and true leaders and guides of this real -German spirit, whose names we commemorate by statues and festivals, -and whose works we hold up with feelings of pride for the admiration -of foreign lands—how did they obtain the education you demand for -them, to what degree do they show that they have been nourished and -matured by basking in the sun of national education? And yet they are -seen to be possible, they have nevertheless become men whom we must -honour: yea, their works themselves justify the form of the -development of these noble spirits; they justify even a certain want -of education for which we must make allowance owing to their country -and the age in which they lived. How could Lessing and Winckelmann -benefit by the German culture of their time? Even less than, or at all -events just as little as Beethoven, Schiller, Goethe, or every one of -our great poets and artists. It may perhaps be a law of nature that -only the later generations are destined to know by what divine gifts -an earlier generation was favoured."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> -At this point the old philosopher could not control his anger, and -shouted to his companion: "Oh, you innocent lamb of knowledge! You -gentle sucking doves, all of you! And would you give the name of -arguments to those distorted, clumsy, narrow-minded, ungainly, -crippled things? Yes, I have just now been listening to the fruits of -some of this present-day culture, and my ears are still ringing with -the sound of historical 'self-understood' things, of over-wise and -pitiless historical reasonings! Mark this, thou unprofaned Nature: -thou hast grown old, and for thousands of years this starry sky has -spanned the space above thee—but thou hast never yet heard such -conceited and, at bottom, mischievous chatter as the talk of the -present day! So you are proud of your poets and artists, my good -Teutons? You point to them and brag about them to foreign countries, -do you? And because it has given you no trouble to have them amongst -you, you have formed the pleasant theory that you need not concern -yourselves further with them? Isn't that so, my inexperienced -children: they come of their own free will, the stork brings them to -you! Who would dare to mention a midwife! You deserve an earnest -teaching, eh? You should be proud of the fact that all the noble and -brilliant men we have mentioned were prematurely suffocated, worn out, -and crushed through you, through your barbarism? You think without -shame of Lessing, who, on account of your stupidity, perished in -battle against your ludicrous gods and idols, the evils of your -theatres, your learned men, and your theologians, without once daring -to lift <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> -himself to the height of that immortal flight for which he -was brought into the world. And what are your impressions when you -think of Winckelmann, who, that he might rid his eyes of your -grotesque fatuousness, went to beg help from the Jesuits, and whose -disgraceful religious conversion recoils upon you and will always -remain an ineffaceable blemish upon you? You can even name Schiller -without blushing! Just look at his picture! The fiery, sparkling eyes, -looking at you with disdain, those flushed, death-like cheeks: can you -learn nothing from all that? In him you had a beautiful and divine -plaything, and through it was destroyed. And if it had been possible -for you to take Goethe's friendship away from this melancholy, hasty -life, hunted to premature death, then you would have crushed him even -sooner than you did. You have not rendered assistance to a single one -of our great geniuses—and now upon that fact you wish to build up the -theory that none of them shall ever be helped in future? For each of -them, however, up to this very moment, you have always been the -'resistance of the stupid world' that Goethe speaks of in his -"Epilogue to the Bell"; towards each of them you acted the part of -apathetic dullards or jealous narrow-hearts or malignant egotists. In -spite of you they created their immortal works, against you they -directed their attacks, and thanks to you they died so prematurely, -their tasks only half accomplished, blunted and dulled and shattered -in the battle. Who can tell to what these heroic men were destined to -attain if only that true German spirit had gathered them together -within the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>protecting walls of a powerful institution?—that spirit -which, without the help of some such institution, drags out an -isolated, debased, and degraded existence. All those great men were -utterly ruined; and it is only an insane belief in the Hegelian -'reasonableness of all happenings' which would absolve you of any -responsibility in the matter. And not those men alone! Indictments are -pouring forth against you from every intellectual province: whether I -look at the talents of our poets, philosophers, painters, or -sculptors—and not only in the case of gifts of the highest order—I -everywhere see immaturity, overstrained nerves, or prematurely -exhausted energies, abilities wasted and nipped in the bud; I -everywhere feel that 'resistance of the stupid world,' in other words, -<i>your</i> guiltiness. That is what I am talking about when I speak of -lacking educational establishments, and why I think those which at -present claim the name in such a pitiful condition. Whoever is pleased -to call this an 'ideal desire,' and refers to it as 'ideal' as if he -were trying to get rid of it by praising me, deserves the answer that -the present system is a scandal and a disgrace, and that the man who -asks for warmth in the midst of ice and snow must indeed get angry if -he hears this referred to as an 'ideal desire.' The matter we are now -discussing is concerned with clear, urgent, and palpably evident -realities: a man who knows anything of the question feels that there -is a need which must be seen to, just like cold and hunger. But the -man who is not affected at all by this matter most certainly has a -standard by which to measure the extent of his own culture, and thus -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>to know what I call 'culture,' and where the line should be drawn -between that which is ruled from below upwards and that which is ruled -from above downwards."</p> - -<p>The philosopher seemed to be speaking very heatedly. We begged him to -walk round with us again, since he had uttered the latter part of his -discourse standing near the tree-stump which had served us as a -target. For a few minutes not a word more was spoken. Slowly and -thoughtfully we walked to and fro. We did not so much feel ashamed of -having brought forward such foolish arguments as we felt a kind of -restitution of our personality. After the heated and, so far as we -were concerned, very unflattering utterance of the philosopher, we -seemed to feel ourselves nearer to him—that we even stood in a -personal relationship to him. For so wretched is man that he never -feels himself brought into such close contact with a stranger as when -the latter shows some sign of weakness, some defect. That our -philosopher had lost his temper and made use of abusive language -helped to bridge over the gulf created between us by our timid respect -for him: and for the sake of the reader who feels his indignation -rising at this suggestion let it be added that this bridge often leads -from distant hero-worship to personal love and pity. And, after the -feeling that our personality had been restored to us, this pity -gradually became stronger and stronger. Why were we making this old -man walk up and down with us between the rocks and trees at that time -of the night? And, since he had yielded to our entreaties, why could -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>we not have thought of a more modest and unassuming manner of having -ourselves instructed, why should the three of us have contradicted him -in such clumsy terms?</p> - -<p>For now we saw how thoughtless, unprepared, and baseless were all the -objections we had made, and how greatly the echo of <i>the</i> present was -heard in them, the voice of which, in the province of culture, the old -man would fain not have heard. Our objections, however, were not -purely intellectual ones: our reasons for protesting against the -philosopher's statements seemed to lie elsewhere. They arose perhaps -from the instinctive anxiety to know whether, if the philosopher's -views were carried into effect, our own personalities would find a -place in the higher or lower division; and this made it necessary for -us to find some arguments against the mode of thinking which robbed us -of our self-styled claims to culture. People, however, should not -argue with companions who feel the weight of an argument so -personally; or, as the moral in our case would have been: such -companions should not argue, should not contradict at all.</p> - -<p>So we walked on beside the philosopher, ashamed, compassionate, -dissatisfied with ourselves, and more than ever convinced that the old -man was right and that we had done him wrong. How remote now seemed -the youthful dream of our educational institution; how clearly we saw -the danger which we had hitherto escaped merely by good luck, namely, -giving ourselves up body and soul to the educational system which -forced itself upon our notice so enticingly, from the time when we -entered <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>the public schools up to that moment. How then had it come -about that we had not taken our places in the chorus of its admirers? -Perhaps merely because we were real students, and could still draw -back from the rough-and-tumble, the pushing and struggling, the -restless, ever-breaking waves of publicity, to seek refuge in our own -little educational establishment; which, however, time would have soon -swallowed up also.</p> - -<p>Overcome by such reflections, we were about to address the philosopher -again, when he suddenly turned towards us, and said in a softer tone—</p> - -<p>"I cannot be surprised if you young men behave rashly and -thoughtlessly; for it is hardly likely that you have ever seriously -considered what I have just said to you. Don't be in a hurry; carry -this question about with you, but do at any rate consider it day and -night. For you are now at the parting of the ways, and now you know -where each path leads. If you take the one, your age will receive you -with open arms, you will not find it wanting in honours and -decorations: you will form units of an enormous rank and file; and -there will be as many people like-minded standing behind you as in -front of you. And when the leader gives the word it will be re-echoed -from rank to rank. For here your first duty is this: to fight in rank -and file; and your second: to annihilate all those who refuse to form -part of the rank and file. On the other path you will have but few -fellow-travellers: it is more arduous, winding and precipitous; and -those who take the first path will mock you, for your progress is more -wearisome, and they will try <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>to lure you over into their own ranks. -When the two paths happen to cross, however, you will be roughly -handled and thrust aside, or else shunned and isolated.</p> - -<p>"Now, take these two parties, so different from each other in every -respect, and tell me what meaning an educational establishment would -have for them. That enormous horde, crowding onwards on the first path -towards its goal, would take the term to mean an institution by which -each of its members would become duly qualified to take his place in -the rank and file, and would be purged of everything which might tend -to make him strive after higher and more remote aims. I don't deny, of -course, that they can find pompous words with which to describe their -aims: for example, they speak of the 'universal development of free -personality upon a firm social, national, and human basis,' or they -announce as their goal: 'The founding of the peaceful sovereignty of -the people upon reason, education, and justice.'</p> - -<p>"An educational establishment for the other and smaller company, -however, would be something vastly different. They would employ it to -prevent themselves from being separated from one another and -overwhelmed by the first huge crowd, to prevent their few select -spirits from losing sight of their splendid and noble task through -premature weariness, or from being turned aside from the true path, -corrupted, or subverted. These select spirits must complete their -work: that is the <i>raison d'être</i> of their common institution—a work, -indeed, which, as it were, must be free from subjective traces, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>must further rise above the transient events of future times as the -pure reflection of the eternal and immutable essence of things. And -all those who occupy places in that institution must co-operate in the -endeavour to engender men of genius by this purification from -subjectiveness and the creation of the works of genius. Not a few, -even of those whose talents may be of the second or third order, are -suited to such co-operation, and only when serving in such an -educational establishment as this do they feel that they are truly -carrying out their life's task. But now it is just these talents I -speak of which are drawn away from the true path, and their instincts -estranged, by the continual seductions of that modern 'culture.'</p> - -<p>"The egotistic emotions, weaknesses, and vanities of these few select -minds are continually assailed by the temptations unceasingly murmured -into their ears by the spirit of the age: 'Come with me! There you are -servants, retainers, tools, eclipsed by higher natures; your own -peculiar characteristics never have free play; you are tied down, -chained down, like slaves; yea, like automata: here, with me, you will -enjoy the freedom of your own personalities, as masters should, your -talents will cast their lustre on yourselves alone, with their aid you -may come to the very front rank; an innumerable train of followers -will accompany you, and the applause of public opinion will yield you -more pleasure than a nobly-bestowed commendation from the height of -genius.' Even the very best of men now yield to these temptations: and -it cannot be said that the deciding <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>factor here is the degree of -talent, or whether a man is accessible to these voices or not; but -rather the degree and the height of a certain moral sublimity, the -instinct towards heroism, towards sacrifice—and finally a positive, -habitual need of culture, prepared by a proper kind of education, -which education, as I have previously said, is first and foremost -obedience and submission to the discipline of genius. Of this -discipline and submission, however, the present institutions called by -courtesy 'educational establishments' know nothing whatever, although -I have no doubt that the public school was originally intended to be -an institution for sowing the seeds of true culture, or at least as a -preparation for it. I have no doubt, either, that they took the first -bold steps in the wonderful and stirring times of the Reformation, and -that afterwards, in the era which gave birth to Schiller and Goethe, -there was again a growing demand for culture, like the first -protuberance of that wing spoken of by Plato in the <i>Phaedrus</i>, which, -at every contact with the beautiful, bears the soul aloft into the -upper regions, the habitations of the gods."</p> - -<p>"Ah," began the philosopher's companion, "when you quote the divine -Plato and the world of ideas, I do not think you are angry with me, -however much my previous utterance may have merited your disapproval -and wrath. As soon as you speak of it, I feel that Platonic wing -rising within me; and it is only at intervals, when I act as the -charioteer of my soul, that I have any difficulty with the resisting -and unwilling horse that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>Plato has also described to us, the -'crooked, lumbering animal, put together anyhow, with a short, thick -neck; flat-faced, and of a dark colour, with grey eyes and blood-red -complexion; the mate of insolence and pride, shag-eared and deaf, -hardly yielding to whip or spur.'<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> Just think how long I have lived -at a distance from you, and how all those temptations you speak of -have endeavoured to lure me away, not perhaps without some success, -even though I myself may not have observed it. I now see more clearly -than ever the necessity for an institution which will enable us to -live and mix freely with the few men of true culture, so that we may -have them as our leaders and guiding stars. How greatly I feel the -danger of travelling alone! And when it occurred to me that I could -save myself by flight from all contact with the spirit of the time, I -found that this flight itself was a mere delusion. Continuously, with -every breath we take, some amount of that atmosphere circulates -through every vein and artery, and no solitude is lonesome or distant -enough for us to be out of reach of its fogs and clouds. Whether in -the guise of hope, doubt, profit, or virtue, the shades of that -culture hover about us; and we have been deceived by that jugglery -even here in the presence of a true hermit of culture. How steadfastly -and faithfully must the few followers of that culture—which might -almost be called sectarian—be ever on the alert! How they must -strengthen and uphold one another! How adversely would <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>any errors be -criticised here, and how sympathetically excused! And thus, teacher, I -ask you to pardon me, after you have laboured so earnestly to set me -in the right path!"</p> - -<p>"You use a language which I do not care for, my friend," said the -philosopher, "and one which reminds me of a diocesan conference. With -that I have nothing to do. But your Platonic horse pleases me, and on -its account you shall be forgiven. I am willing to exchange my own -animal for yours. But it is getting chilly, and I don't feel inclined -to walk about any more just now. The friend I was waiting for is -indeed foolish enough to come up here even at midnight if he promised -to do so. But I have waited in vain for the signal agreed upon; and I -cannot guess what has delayed him. For as a rule he is punctual, as we -old men are wont, to be, something that you young men nowadays look -upon as old-fashioned. But he has left me in the lurch for once: how -annoying it is! Come away with me! It's time to go!"</p> - -<p>At this moment something happened.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> It will be apparent from these words that Nietzsche is still under -the influence of Schopenhauer.—TR.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> This prophecy has come true.—TR.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> <i>Phaedrus</i>; Jowett's translation.</p></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></p> -<h4><a name="FIFTH_LECTURE" id="FIFTH_LECTURE">FIFTH LECTURE.</a></h4> - -<h5>(<i>Delivered on the 23rd of March 1872.</i>)</h5> - - -<p><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LADIES AND GENTLEMEN</span>,—If you have lent a sympathetic ear to what I -have told you about the heated argument of our philosopher in the -stillness of that memorable night, you must have felt as disappointed -as we did when he announced his peevish intention. You will remember -that he had suddenly told us he wished to go; for, having been left in -the lurch by his friend in the first place, and, in the second, having -been bored rather than animated by the remarks addressed to him by his -companion and ourselves when walking backwards and forwards on the -hillside, he now apparently wanted to put an end to what appeared to -him to be a useless discussion. It must have seemed to him that his -day had been lost, and he would have liked to blot it out of his -memory, together with the recollection of ever having made our -acquaintance. And we were thus rather unwillingly preparing to depart -when something else suddenly brought him to a standstill, and the foot -he had just raised sank hesitatingly to the ground again.</p> - -<p>A coloured flame, making a crackling noise for a few seconds, -attracted our attention from the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>direction of the Rhine; and -immediately following upon this we heard a slow, harmonious call, -quite in tune, although plainly the cry of numerous youthful voices. -"That's his signal," exclaimed the philosopher, "so my friend is -really coming, and I haven't waited for nothing, after all. It will be -a midnight meeting indeed—but how am I to let him know that I am -still here? Come! Your pistols; let us see your talent once again! Did -you hear the severe rhythm of that melody saluting us? Mark it well, -and answer it in the same rhythm by a series of shots."</p> - -<p>This was a task well suited to our tastes and abilities; so we loaded -up as quickly as we could and pointed our weapons at the brilliant -stars in the heavens, whilst the echo of that piercing cry died away -in the distance. The reports of the first, second, and third shots -sounded sharply in the stillness; and then the philosopher cried -"False time!" as our rhythm was suddenly interrupted: for, like a -lightning flash, a shooting star tore its way across the clouds after -the third report, and almost involuntarily our fourth and fifth shots -were sent after it in the direction it had taken.</p> - -<p>"False time!" said the philosopher again, "who told you to shoot -stars! They can fall well enough without you! People should know what -they want before they begin to handle weapons."</p> - -<p>And then we once more heard that loud melody from the waters of the -Rhine, intoned by numerous and strong voices. "They understand us," -said the philosopher, laughing, "and who indeed could <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>resist when -such a dazzling phantom comes within range?" "Hush!" interrupted his -friend, "what sort of a company can it be that returns the signal to -us in such a way? I should say they were between twenty and forty -strong, manly voices in that crowd—and where would such a number come -from to greet us? They don't appear to have left the opposite bank of -the Rhine yet; but at any rate we must have a look at them from our -own side of the river. Come along, quickly!"</p> - -<p>We were then standing near the top of the hill, you may remember, and -our view of the river was interrupted by a dark, thick wood. On the -other hand, as I have told you, from the quiet little spot which we -had left we could have a better view than from the little plateau on -the hillside; and the Rhine, with the island of Nonnenwörth in the -middle, was just visible to the beholder who peered over the -tree-tops. We therefore set off hastily towards this little spot, -taking care, however, not to go too quickly for the philosopher's -comfort. The night was pitch dark, and we seemed to find our way by -instinct rather than by clearly distinguishing the path, as we walked -down with the philosopher in the middle.</p> - -<p>We had scarcely reached our side of the river when a broad and fiery, -yet dull and uncertain light shot up, which plainly came from the -opposite side of the Rhine. "Those are torches," I cried, "there is -nothing surer than that my comrades from Bonn are over yonder, and -that your friend must be with them. It is they who sang that peculiar -song, and they have doubtless <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>accompanied your friend here. See! -Listen! They are putting off in little boats. The whole torchlight -procession will have arrived here in less than half an hour."</p> - -<p>The philosopher jumped back. "What do you say?" he ejaculated, "your -comrades from Bonn—students—can my friend have come here with -<i>students</i>?"</p> - -<p>This question, uttered almost wrathfully, provoked us. "What's your -objection to students?" we demanded; but there was no answer. It was -only after a pause that the philosopher slowly began to speak, not -addressing us directly, as it were, but rather some one in the -distance: "So, my friend, even at midnight, even on the top of a -lonely mountain, we shall not be alone; and you yourself are bringing -a pack of mischief-making students along with you, although you well -know that I am only too glad to get out of the way of <i>hoc genus -omne</i>. I don't quite understand you, my friend: it must mean something -when we arrange to meet after a long separation at such an -out-of-the-way place and at such an unusual hour. Why should we want a -crowd of witnesses—and such witnesses! What calls us together to-day -is least of all a sentimental, soft-hearted necessity; for both of us -learnt early in life to live alone in dignified isolation. It was not -for our own sakes, not to show our tender feelings towards each other, -or to perform an unrehearsed act of friendship, that we decided to -meet here; but that here, where I once came suddenly upon you as you -sat in majestic solitude, we might earnestly deliberate <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>with each -other like knights of a new order. Let them listen to us who can -understand us; but why should you bring with you a throng of people -who don't understand us! I don't know what you mean by such a thing, -my friend!"</p> - -<p>We did not think it proper to interrupt the dissatisfied old grumbler; -and as he came to a melancholy close we did not dare to tell him how -greatly this distrustful repudiation of students vexed us.</p> - -<p>At last the philosopher's companion turned to him and said: "I am -reminded of the fact that even you at one time, before I made your -acquaintance, occupied posts in several universities, and that reports -concerning your intercourse with the students and your methods of -instruction at the time are still in circulation. From the tone of -resignation in which you have just referred to students many would be -inclined to think that you had some peculiar experiences which were -not at all to your liking; but personally I rather believe that you -saw and experienced in such places just what every one else saw and -experienced in them, but that you judged what you saw and felt more -justly and severely than any one else. For, during the time I have -known you, I have learnt that the most noteworthy, instructive, and -decisive experiences and events in one's life are those which are of -daily occurrence; that the greatest riddle, displayed in full view of -all, is seen by the fewest to be the greatest riddle, and that these -problems are spread about in every direction, under the very feet of -the passers-by, for the few <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>real philosophers to lift up carefully, -thenceforth to shine as diamonds of wisdom. Perhaps, in the short time -now left us before the arrival of your friend, you will be good enough -to tell us something of your experiences of university life, so as to -close the circle of observations, to which we were involuntarily -urged, respecting our educational institutions. We may also be allowed -to remind you that you, at an earlier stage of your remarks, gave me -the promise that you would do so. Starting with the public school, you -claimed for it an extraordinary importance: all other institutions -must be judged by its standard, according as its aim has been -proposed; and, if its aim happens to be wrong, all the others have to -suffer. Such an importance cannot now be adopted by the universities -as a standard; for, by their present system of grouping, they would be -nothing more than institutions where public school students might go -through finishing courses. You promised me that you would explain this -in greater detail later on: perhaps our student friends can bear -witness to that, if they chanced to overhear that part of our -conversation."</p> - -<p>"We can testify to that," I put in. The philosopher then turned to us -and said: "Well, if you really did listen attentively, perhaps you can -now tell me what you understand by the expression 'the present aim of -our public schools.' Besides, you are still near enough to this sphere -to judge my opinions by the standard of your own impressions and -experiences."</p> - -<p>My friend instantly answered, quickly and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>smartly, as was his habit, -in the following words: "Until now we had always thought that the sole -object of the public school was to prepare students for the -universities. This preparation, however, should tend to make us -independent enough for the extraordinarily free position of a -university student;<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> for it seems to me that a student, to a greater -extent than any other individual, has more to decide and settle for -himself. He must guide himself on a wide, utterly unknown path for -many years, so the public school must do its best to render him -independent."</p> - -<p>I continued the argument where my friend left off. "It even seems to -me," I said, "that everything for which you have justly blamed the -public school is only a necessary means employed to imbue the youthful -student with some kind of independence, or at all events with the -belief that there is such a thing. The teaching of German composition -must be at the service of this independence: the individual must enjoy -his opinions and carry out his designs early, so that he may be able -to travel alone and without crutches. In this way he will soon be -encouraged to produce original work, and still sooner to take up -criticism and analysis. If Latin and Greek studies prove insufficient -to make a student an enthusiastic admirer <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>of antiquity, the methods -with which such studies are pursued are at all events sufficient to -awaken the scientific sense, the desire for a more strict causality of -knowledge, the passion for finding out and inventing. Only think how -many young men may be lured away for ever to the attractions of -science by a new reading of some sort which they have snatched up with -youthful hands at the public school! The public school boy must learn -and collect a great deal of varied information: hence an impulse will -gradually be created, accompanied with which he will continue to learn -and collect independently at the university. We believe, in short, -that the aim of the public school is to prepare and accustom the -student always to live and learn independently afterwards, just as -beforehand he must live and learn dependently at the public school."</p> - -<p>The philosopher laughed, not altogether good-naturedly, and said: "You -have just given me a fine example of that independence. And it is this -very independence that shocks me so much, and makes any place in the -neighbourhood of present-day students so disagreeable to me. Yes, my -good friends, you are perfect, you are mature; nature has cast you and -broken up the moulds, and your teachers must surely gloat over you. -What liberty, certitude, and independence of judgment; what novelty -and freshness of insight! You sit in judgment—and the cultures of all -ages run away. The scientific sense is kindled, and rises out of you -like a flame—let people be careful, lest you set them alight! If I go -further into <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>the question and look at your professors, I again find -the same independence in a greater and even more charming degree: -never was there a time so full of the most sublime independent folk, -never was slavery more detested, the slavery of education and culture -included.</p> - -<p>"Permit me, however, to measure this independence of yours by the -standard of this culture, and to consider your university as an -educational institution and nothing else. If a foreigner desires to -know something of the methods of our universities, he asks first of -all with emphasis: 'How is the student connected with the university?' -We answer: 'By the ear, as a hearer.' The foreigner is astonished. -'Only by the ear?' he repeats. 'Only by the ear,' we again reply. The -student hears. When he speaks, when he sees, when he is in the company -of his companions when he takes up some branch of art: in short, when -he <i>lives</i> he is independent, <i>i.e.</i> not dependent upon the -educational institution. The student very often writes down something -while he hears; and it is only at these rare moments that he hangs to -the umbilical cord of his alma mater. He himself may choose what he is -to listen to; he is not bound to believe what is said; he may close -his ears if he does not care to hear. This is the 'acroamatic' method -of teaching.</p> - -<p>"The teacher, however, speaks to these listening students. Whatever -else he may think and do is cut off from the student's perception by -an immense gap. The professor often reads when he is speaking. As a -rule he wishes to have as <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>many hearers as possible; he is not content -to have a few, and he is never satisfied with one only. One speaking -mouth, with many ears, and half as many writing hands—there you have -to all appearances, the external academical apparatus; the university -engine of culture set in motion. Moreover, the proprietor of this one -mouth is severed from and independent of the owners of the many ears; -and this double independence is enthusiastically designated as -'academical freedom.' And again, that this freedom may be broadened -still more, the one may speak what he likes and the other may hear -what he likes; except that, behind both of them, at a modest distance, -stands the State, with all the intentness of a supervisor, to remind -the professors and students from time to time that <i>it</i> is the aim, -the goal, the be-all and end-all, of this curious speaking and hearing -procedure.</p> - -<p>"We, who must be permitted to regard this phenomenon merely as an -educational institution, will then inform the inquiring foreigner that -what is called 'culture' in our universities merely proceeds from the -mouth to the ear, and that every kind of training for culture is, as I -said before, merely 'acroamatic.' Since, however, not only the -hearing, but also the choice of what to hear is left to the -independent decision of the liberal-minded and unprejudiced student, -and since, again, he can withhold all belief and authority from what -he hears, all training for culture, in the true sense of the term, -reverts to himself; and the independence it was thought desirable to -aim at in the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>public school now presents itself with the highest -possible pride as 'academical self-training for culture,' and struts -about in its brilliant plumage.</p> - -<p>"Happy times, when youths are clever and cultured enough to teach -themselves how to walk! Unsurpassable public schools, which succeed in -implanting independence in the place of the dependence, discipline, -subordination, and obedience implanted by former generations that -thought it their duty to drive away all the bumptiousness of -independence! Do you clearly see, my good friends, why I, from the -standpoint of culture, regard the present type of university as a mere -appendage to the public school? The culture instilled by the public -school passes through the gates of the university as something ready -and entire, and with its own particular claims: <i>it</i> demands, it gives -laws, it sits in judgment. Do not, then, let yourselves be deceived in -regard to the cultured student; for he, in so far as he thinks he has -absorbed the blessings of education, is merely the public school boy -as moulded by the hands of his teacher: one who, since his academical -isolation, and after he has left the public school, has therefore been -deprived of all further guidance to culture, that from now on he may -begin to live by himself and be free.</p> - -<p>"Free! Examine this freedom, ye observers of human nature! Erected -upon the sandy, crumbling foundation of our present public school -culture, its building slants to one side, trembling before the -whirlwind's blast. Look at the free student, the herald of -self-culture: guess what his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>instincts are; explain him from his -needs! How does his culture appear to you when you measure it by three -graduated scales: first, by his need for philosophy; second, by his -instinct for art; and third, by Greek and Roman antiquity as the -incarnate categorical imperative of all culture?</p> - -<p>"Man is so much encompassed about by the most serious and difficult -problems that, when they are brought to his attention in the right -way, he is impelled betimes towards a lasting kind of philosophical -wonder, from which alone, as a fruitful soil, a deep and noble culture -can grow forth. His own experiences lead him most frequently to the -consideration of these problems; and it is especially in the -tempestuous period of youth that every personal event shines with a -double gleam, both as the exemplification of a triviality and, at the -same time, of an eternally surprising problem, deserving of -explanation. At this age, which, as it were, sees his experiences -encircled with metaphysical rainbows, man is, in the highest degree, -in need of a guiding hand, because he has suddenly and almost -instinctively convinced himself of the ambiguity of existence, and has -lost the firm support of the beliefs he has hitherto held.</p> - -<p>"This natural state of great need must of course be looked upon as the -worst enemy of that beloved independence for which the cultured youth -of the present day should be trained. All these sons of the present, -who have raised the banner of the 'self-understood,' are therefore -straining every nerve to crush down these feelings of youth, to -cripple them, to mislead them, or to stop their <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>growth altogether; -and the favourite means employed is to paralyse that natural -philosophic impulse by the so-called "historical culture." A still -recent system,<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> which has won for itself a world-wide scandalous -reputation, has discovered the formula for this self-destruction of -philosophy; and now, wherever the historical view of things is found, -we can see such a naive recklessness in bringing the irrational to -'rationality' and 'reason' and making black look like white, that one -is even inclined to parody Hegel's phrase and ask: 'Is all this -irrationality real?' Ah, it is only the irrational that now seems to -be 'real,' <i>i.e.</i> really doing something; and to bring this kind of -reality forward for the elucidation of history is reckoned as true -'historical culture.' It is into this that the philosophical impulse -of our time has pupated itself; and the peculiar philosophers of our -universities seem to have conspired to fortify and confirm the young -academicians in it.</p> - -<p>"It has thus come to pass that, in place of a profound interpretation -of the eternally recurring problems, a historical—yea, even -philological—balancing and questioning has entered into the -educational arena: what this or that philosopher has or has not -thought; whether this or that essay or dialogue is to be ascribed to -him or not; or even whether this particular reading of a classical -text is to be preferred to that. It is to neutral preoccupations with -philosophy like these that our students in philosophical seminaries -are stimulated; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>whence I have long accustomed myself to regard such -science as a mere ramification of philology, and to value its -representatives in proportion as they are good or bad philologists. So -it has come about that <i>philosophy itself</i> is banished from the -universities: wherewith our first question as to the value of our -universities from the standpoint of culture is answered.</p> - -<p>"In what relationship these universities stand to <i>art</i> cannot be -acknowledged without shame: in none at all. Of artistic thinking, -learning, striving, and comparison, we do not find in them a single -trace; and no one would seriously think that the voice of the -universities would ever be raised to help the advancement of the -higher national schemes of art. Whether an individual teacher feels -himself to be personally qualified for art, or whether a professorial -chair has been established for the training of æstheticising literary -historians, does not enter into the question at all: the fact remains -that the university is not in a position to control the young -academician by severe artistic discipline, and that it must let happen -what happens, willy-nilly—and this is the cutting answer to the -immodest pretensions of the universities to represent themselves as -the highest educational institutions.</p> - -<p>"We find our academical 'independents' growing up without philosophy -and without art; and how can they then have any need to 'go in for' -the Greeks and Romans?—for we need now no longer pretend, like our -forefathers, to have any great regard for Greece and Rome, which, -besides, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>sit enthroned in almost inaccessible loneliness and majestic -alienation. The universities of the present time consequently give no -heed to almost extinct educational predilections like these, and found -their philological chairs for the training of new and exclusive -generations of philologists, who on their part give similar -philological preparation in the public schools—a vicious circle which -is useful neither to philologists nor to public schools, but which -above all accuses the university for the third time of not being what -it so pompously proclaims itself to be—a training ground for culture. -Take away the Greeks, together with philosophy and art, and what -ladder have you still remaining by which to ascend to culture? For, if -you attempt to clamber up the ladder without these helps, you must -permit me to inform you that all your learning will lie like a heavy -burden on your shoulders rather than furnishing you with wings and -bearing you aloft.</p> - -<p>"If you honest thinkers have honourably remained in these three stages -of intelligence, and have perceived that, in comparison with the -Greeks, the modern student is unsuited to and unprepared for -philosophy, that he has no truly artistic instincts, and is merely a -barbarian believing himself to be free, you will not on this account -turn away from him in disgust, although you will, of course, avoid -coming into too close proximity with him. For, as he now is, <i>he is -not to blame</i>: as you have perceived him he is the dumb but terrible -accuser of those who are to blame.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>"You should understand the secret language spoken by this guilty -innocent, and then you, too, would learn to understand the inward -state of that independence which is paraded outwardly with so much -ostentation. Not one of these noble, well-qualified youths has -remained a stranger to that restless, tiring, perplexing, and -debilitating need of culture: during his university term, when he is -apparently the only free man in a crowd of servants and officials, he -atones for this huge illusion of freedom by ever-growing inner doubts -and convictions. He feels that he can neither lead nor help himself; -and then he plunges hopelessly into the workaday world and endeavours -to ward off such feelings by study. The most trivial bustle fastens -itself upon him; he sinks under his heavy burden. Then he suddenly -pulls himself together; he still feels some of that power within him -which would have enabled him to keep his head above water. Pride and -noble resolutions assert themselves and grow in him. He is afraid of -sinking at this early stage into the limits of a narrow profession; -and now he grasps at pillars and railings alongside the stream that he -may not be swept away by the current. In vain! for these supports give -way, and he finds he has clutched at broken reeds. In low and -despondent spirits he sees his plans vanish away in smoke. His -condition is undignified, even dreadful: he keeps between the two -extremes of work at high pressure and a state of melancholy -enervation. Then he becomes tired, lazy, afraid of work, fearful of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>everything great; and hating himself. He looks into his own breast, -analyses his faculties, and finds he is only peering into hollow and -chaotic vacuity. And then he once more falls from the heights of his -eagerly-desired self-knowledge into an ironical scepticism. He divests -his struggles of their real importance, and feels himself ready to -undertake any class of useful work, however degrading. He now seeks -consolation in hasty and incessant action so as to hide himself from -himself. And thus his helplessness and the want of a leader towards -culture drive him from one form of life into another: but doubt, -elevation, worry, hope, despair—everything flings him hither and -thither as a proof that all the stars above him by which he could have -guided his ship have set.</p> - -<p>"There you have the picture of this glorious independence of yours, of -that academical freedom, reflected in the highest minds—those which -are truly in need of culture, compared with whom that other crowd of -indifferent natures does not count at all, natures that delight in -their freedom in a purely barbaric sense. For these latter show by -their base smugness and their narrow professional limitations that -this is the right element for them: against which there is nothing to -be said. Their comfort, however, does not counter-balance the -suffering of one single young man who has an inclination for culture -and feels the need of a guiding hand, and who at last, in a moment of -discontent, throws down the reins and begins to despise himself. This -is the guiltless <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>innocent; for who has saddled him with the -unbearable burden of standing alone? Who has urged him on to -independence at an age when one of the most natural and peremptory -needs of youth is, so to speak, a self-surrendering to great leaders -and an enthusiastic following in the footsteps of the masters?</p> - -<p>"It is repulsive to consider the effects to which the violent -suppression of such noble natures may lead. He who surveys the -greatest supporters and friends of that pseudo-culture of the present -time, which I so greatly detest, will only too frequently find among -them such degenerate and shipwrecked men of culture, driven by inward -despair to violent enmity against culture, when, in a moment of -desperation, there was no one at hand to show them how to attain it. -It is not the worst and most insignificant people whom we afterwards -find acting as journalists and writers for the press in the -metamorphosis of despair: the spirit of some well-known men of letters -might even be described, and justly, as degenerate studentdom. How -else, for example, can we reconcile that once well-known 'young -Germany' with its present degenerate successors? Here we discover a -need of culture which, so to speak, has grown mutinous, and which -finally breaks out into the passionate cry: I am culture! There, -before the gates of the public schools and universities, we can see -the culture which has been driven like a fugitive away from these -institutions. True, this culture is without the erudition of those -establishments, but assumes nevertheless the mien of a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>sovereign; so -that, for example, Gutzkow the novelist might be pointed to as the -best example of a modern public school boy turned æsthete. Such a -degenerate man of culture is a serious matter, and it is a horrifying -spectacle for us to see that all our scholarly and journalistic -publicity bears the stigma of this degeneracy upon it. How else can we -do justice to our learned men, who pay untiring attention to, and even -co-operate in the journalistic corruption of the people, how else than -by the acknowledgment that their learning must fill a want of their -own similar to that filled by novel-writing in the case of others: -<i>i.e.</i> a flight from one's self, an ascetic extirpation of their -cultural impulses, a desperate attempt to annihilate their own -individuality. From our degenerate literary art, as also from that -itch for scribbling of our learned men which has now reached such -alarming proportions, wells forth the same sigh: Oh that we could -forget ourselves! The attempt fails: memory, not yet suffocated by the -mountains of printed paper under which it is buried, keeps on -repeating from time to time: 'A degenerate man of culture! Born for -culture and brought up to non-culture! Helpless barbarian, slave of -the day, chained to the present moment, and thirsting for -something—ever thirsting!'</p> - -<p>"Oh, the miserable guilty innocents! For they lack something, a need -that every one of them must have felt: a real educational institution, -which could give them goals, masters, methods, companions; and from -the midst of which the invigorating and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>uplifting breath of the true -German spirit would inspire them. Thus they perish in the wilderness; -thus they degenerate into enemies of that spirit which is at bottom -closely allied to their own; thus they pile fault upon fault higher -than any former generation ever did, soiling the clean, desecrating -the holy, canonising the false and spurious. It is by them that you -can judge the educational strength of our universities, asking -yourselves, in all seriousness, the question: What cause did you -promote through them? The German power of invention, the noble German -desire for knowledge, the qualifying of the German for diligence and -self-sacrifice—splendid and beautiful things, which other nations -envy you; yea, the finest and most magnificent things in the world, if -only that true German spirit overspread them like a dark thundercloud, -pregnant with the blessing of forthcoming rain. But you are afraid of -this spirit, and it has therefore come to pass that a cloud of another -sort has thrown a heavy and oppressive atmosphere around your -universities, in which your noble-minded scholars breathe wearily and -with difficulty.</p> - -<p>"A tragic, earnest, and instructive attempt was made in the present -century to destroy the cloud I have last referred to, and also to turn -the people's looks in the direction of the high welkin of the German -spirit. In all the annals of our universities we cannot find any trace -of a second attempt, and he who would impressively demonstrate what is -now necessary for us will never find a better <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>example. I refer to the -old, primitive <i>Burschenschaft</i>.<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></p> - -<p>"When the war of liberation was over, the young student brought back -home the unlooked-for and worthiest trophy of battle—the freedom of -his fatherland. Crowned with this laurel he thought of something still -nobler. On returning to the university, and finding that he was -breathing heavily, he became conscious of that oppressive and -contaminated air which overhung the culture of the university. He -suddenly saw, with horror-struck, wide-open eyes, the non-German -barbarism, hiding itself in the guise of all kinds of scholasticism; -he suddenly discovered that his own leaderless comrades were abandoned -to a repulsive kind of youthful intoxication. And he was exasperated. -He rose with the same aspect of proud indignation as Schiller may have -had when reciting the <i>Robbers</i> to his companions: and if he had -prefaced his drama with the picture of a lion, and the motto, 'in -tyrannos,' his follower himself was that very lion preparing to -spring; and every 'tyrant' began to tremble. Yes, if these indignant -youths were looked at superficially and timorously, they would seem to -be little else than Schiller's robbers: their talk sounded so wild to -the anxious listener that Rome and Sparta seemed mere nunneries -compared with these new spirits. The consternation raised by these -young men was indeed far more general than had ever been <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>caused by -those other 'robbers' in court circles, of which a German prince, -according to Goethe, is said to have expressed the opinion: 'If he had -been God, and had foreseen the appearance of the <i>Robbers</i>, he would -not have created the world.'</p> - -<p>"Whence came the incomprehensible intensity of this alarm? For those -young men were the bravest, purest, and most talented of the band both -in dress and habits: they were distinguished by a magnanimous -recklessness and a noble simplicity. A divine command bound them -together to seek harder and more pious superiority: what could be -feared from them? To what extent this fear was merely deceptive or -simulated or really true is something that will probably never be -exactly known; but a strong instinct spoke out of this fear and out of -its disgraceful and senseless persecution. This instinct hated the -Burschenschaft with an intense hatred for two reasons: first of all on -account of its organisation, as being the first attempt to construct a -true educational institution, and, secondly, on account of the spirit -of this institution, that earnest, manly, stern, and daring German -spirit; that spirit of the miner's son, Luther, which has come down to -us unbroken from the time of the Reformation.</p> - -<p>"Think of the <i>fate</i> of the Burschenschaft when I ask you, Did the -German university then understand that spirit, as even the German -princes in their hatred appear to have understood it? Did the alma -mater boldly and resolutely throw her protecting arms round her noble -sons and say: 'You <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>must kill me first, before you touch my children?' -I hear your answer—by it you may judge whether the German university -is an educational institution or not.</p> - -<p>"The student knew at that time at what depth a true educational -institution must take root, namely, in an inward renovation and -inspiration of the purest moral faculties. And this must always be -repeated to the student's credit. He may have learnt on the field of -battle what he could learn least of all in the sphere of 'academical -freedom': that great leaders are necessary, and that all culture begins -with obedience. And in the midst of victory, with his thoughts turned to -his liberated fatherland, he made the vow that he would remain German. -German! Now he learnt to understand his Tacitus; now he grasped the -signification of Kant's categorical imperative; now he was enraptured by -Weber's "Lyre and Sword" songs.<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> The gates of philosophy, of art, -yea, even of antiquity, opened unto him; and in one of the most -memorable <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>of bloody acts, the murder of Kotzebue, he revenged—with -penetrating insight and enthusiastic short-sightedness—his one and only -Schiller, prematurely consumed by the opposition of the stupid world: -Schiller, who could have been his leader, master, and organiser, and -whose loss he now bewailed with such heartfelt resentment.</p> - -<p>"For that was the doom of those promising students: they did not find -the leaders they wanted. They gradually became uncertain, -discontented, and at variance among themselves; unlucky indiscretions -showed only too soon that the one indispensability of powerful minds -was lacking in the midst of them: and, while that mysterious murder -gave evidence of astonishing strength, it gave no less evidence of the -grave danger arising from the want of a leader. They were -leaderless—therefore they perished.</p> - -<p>"For I repeat it, my friends! All culture begins with the very -opposite of that which is now so highly esteemed as 'academical -freedom': with obedience, with subordination, with discipline, with -subjection. And as leaders must have followers so also must the -followers have a leader—here a certain reciprocal predisposition -prevails in the hierarchy of spirits: yea, a kind of pre-established -harmony. This eternal hierarchy, towards which all things naturally -tend, is always threatened by that pseudo-culture which now sits on -the throne of the present. It endeavours either to bring the leaders -down to the level of its own servitude or else to cast them out -altogether. It seduces the followers when they are seeking their -predestined leader, and overcomes <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>them by the fumes of its narcotics. -When, however, in spite of all this, leader and followers have at last -met, wounded and sore, there is an impassioned feeling of rapture, -like the echo of an ever-sounding lyre, a feeling which I can let you -divine only by means of a simile.</p> - -<p>"Have you ever, at a musical rehearsal, looked at the strange, -shrivelled-up, good-natured species of men who usually form the German -orchestra? What changes and fluctuations we see in that capricious -goddess 'form'! What noses and ears, what clumsy, <i>danse macabre</i> -movements! Just imagine for a moment that you were deaf, and had never -dreamed of the existence of sound or music, and that you were looking -upon the orchestra as a company of actors, and trying to enjoy their -performance as a drama and nothing more. Undisturbed by the idealising -effect of the sound, you could never see enough of the stern, -medieval, wood-cutting movement of this comical spectacle, this -harmonious parody on the <i>homo sapiens</i>.</p> - -<p>"Now, on the other hand, assume that your musical sense has returned, -and that your ears are opened. Look at the honest conductor at the -head of the orchestra performing his duties in a dull, spiritless -fashion: you no longer think of the comical aspect of the whole scene, -you listen—but it seems to you that the spirit of tediousness spreads -out from the honest conductor over all his companions. Now you see -only torpidity and flabbiness, you hear only the trivial, the -rhythmically inaccurate, and the melodiously trite. You see the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>orchestra only as an indifferent, ill-humoured, and even wearisome -crowd of players.</p> - -<p>"But set a genius—a real genius—in the midst of this crowd; and you -instantly perceive something almost incredible. It is as if this -genius, in his lightning transmigration, had entered into these -mechanical, lifeless bodies, and as if only one demoniacal eye gleamed -forth out of them all. Now look and listen—you can never listen -enough! When you again observe the orchestra, now loftily storming, -now fervently wailing, when you notice the quick tightening of every -muscle and the rhythmical necessity of every gesture, then you too -will feel what a pre-established harmony there is between leader and -followers, and how in the hierarchy of spirits everything impels us -towards the establishment of a like organisation. You can divine from -my simile what I would understand by a true educational institution, -and why I am very far from recognising one in the present type of -university."</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>[From a few MS. notes written down by Nietzsche in the - spring and autumn of 1872, and still preserved in the - Nietzsche Archives at Weimar, it is evident that he at one - time intended to add a sixth and seventh lecture to the - five just given. These notes, although included in the - latest edition of Nietzsche's works, are utterly lacking - in interest and continuity, being merely headings and - sub-headings of sections in the proposed lectures. They do - not, indeed, occupy more than two printed pages, and were - deemed too fragmentary for translation in this edition.]</p> -</blockquote> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> The reader may be reminded that a German university student is -subject to very few restrictions, and that much greater liberty is -allowed him than is permitted to English students. Nietzsche did not -approve of this extraordinary freedom, which, in his opinion, led to -intellectual lawlessness.—TR.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Hegel's.—TR.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> A German students' association, of liberal principles, founded -for patriotic purposes at Jena in 1813.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Weber set one or two of Körner's "Lyre and Sword" songs to music. -The reader will remember that these lectures were delivered when -Nietzsche was only in his twenty-eighth year. Like Goethe, he -afterwards freed himself from all patriotic trammels and prejudices, -and aimed at a general European culture. Luther, Schiller, Kant, -Körner, and Weber did not continue to be the objects of his veneration -for long, indeed, they were afterwards violently attacked by him, and -the superficial student who speaks of inconsistency may be reminded of -Nietzsche's phrase in stanza 12 of the epilogue to <i>Beyond Good and -Evil</i>: "Nur wer sich wandelt, bleibt mit mir verwandt"; <i>i.e.</i> only -the changing ones have anything in common with me.—TR.</p></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> -<h3><a name="HOMER_AND_CLASSICAL_PHILOLOGY" id="HOMER_AND_CLASSICAL_PHILOLOGY">HOMER AND CLASSICAL PHILOLOGY.</a></h3> - - -<h5>(<i>Inaugural Address delivered at Bâle University, 28th of May 1869.</i>)</h5> - - -<p>At the present day no clear and consistent opinion seems to be held -regarding Classical Philology. We are conscious of this in the circles -of the learned just as much as among the followers of that science -itself. The cause of this lies in its many-sided character, in the lack -of an abstract unity, and in the inorganic aggregation of heterogeneous -scientific activities which are connected with one another only by the -name "Philology." It must be freely admitted that philology is to some -extent borrowed from several other sciences, and is mixed together like -a magic potion from the most outlandish liquors, ores, and bones. It may -even be added that it likewise conceals within itself an artistic -element, one which, on æsthetic and ethical grounds, may be called -imperatival—an element that acts in opposition to its purely scientific -behaviour. Philology is composed of history just as much as of natural -science or æsthetics: history, in so far as it endeavours to comprehend -the manifestations of the individualities of peoples in ever new -images, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> -and the prevailing law in the disappearance of phenomena; -natural science, in so far as it strives to fathom the deepest instinct -of man, that of speech; æsthetics, finally, because from various -antiquities at our disposal it endeavours to pick out the so-called -"classical" antiquity, with the view and pretension of excavating the -ideal world buried under it, and to hold up to the present the mirror of -the classical and everlasting standards. That these wholly different -scientific and æsthetico-ethical impulses have been associated under a -common name, a kind of sham monarchy, is shown especially by the fact -that philology at every period from its origin onwards was at the same -time pedagogical. From the standpoint of the pedagogue, a choice was -offered of those elements which were of the greatest educational value; -and thus that science, or at least that scientific aim, which we call -philology, gradually developed out of the practical calling originated -by the exigencies of that science itself.</p> - -<p>These philological aims were pursued sometimes with greater ardour and -sometimes with less, in accordance with the degree of culture and the -development of the taste of a particular period; but, on the other hand, -the followers of this science are in the habit of regarding the aims -which correspond to their several abilities as <i>the</i> aims of philology; -whence it comes about that the estimation of philology in public opinion -depends upon the weight of the personalities of the philologists!</p> - -<p>At the present time—that is to say, in a period which has seen men -distinguished in almost every <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>department of philology—a general -uncertainty of judgment has increased more and more, and likewise a -general relaxation of interest and participation in philological -problems. Such an undecided and imperfect state of public opinion is -damaging to a science in that its hidden and open enemies can work with -much better prospects of success. And philology has a great many such -enemies. Where do we not meet with them, these mockers, always ready to -aim a blow at the philological "moles," the animals that practise -dust-eating <i>ex professo</i>, and that grub up and eat for the eleventh -time what they have already eaten ten times before. For opponents of -this sort, however, philology is merely a useless, harmless, and -inoffensive pastime, an object of laughter and not of hate. But, on the -other hand, there is a boundless and infuriated hatred of philology -wherever an ideal, as such, is feared, where the modern man falls down -to worship himself, and where Hellenism is looked upon as a superseded -and hence very insignificant point of view. Against these enemies, we -philologists must always count upon the assistance of artists and men of -artistic minds; for they alone can judge how the sword of barbarism -sweeps over the head of every one who loses sight of the unutterable -simplicity and noble dignity of the Hellene; and how no progress in -commerce or technical industries, however brilliant, no school -regulations, no political education of the masses, however widespread -and complete, can protect us from the curse of ridiculous and barbaric -offences against good taste, or from annihilation by the Gorgon head of -the classicist.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> -Whilst philology as a whole is looked on with jealous eyes by these two -classes of opponents, there are numerous and varied hostilities in other -directions of philology; philologists themselves are quarrelling with -one another; internal dissensions are caused by useless disputes about -precedence and mutual jealousies, but especially by the -differences—even enmities—comprised in the name of philology, which -are not, however, by any means naturally harmonised instincts.</p> - -<p>Science has this in common with art, that the most ordinary, everyday -thing appears to it as something entirely new and attractive, as if -metamorphosed by witchcraft and now seen for the first time. Life is -worth living, says art, the beautiful temptress; life is worth knowing, -says science. With this contrast the so heartrending and dogmatic -tradition follows in a <i>theory</i>, and consequently in the practice of -classical philology derived from this theory. We may consider antiquity -from a scientific point of view; we may try to look at what has happened -with the eye of a historian, or to arrange and compare the linguistic -forms of ancient masterpieces, to bring them at all events under a -morphological law; but we always lose the wonderful creative force, the -real fragrance, of the atmosphere of antiquity; we forget that -passionate emotion which instinctively drove our meditation and -enjoyment back to the Greeks. From this point onwards we must take -notice of a clearly determined and very surprising antagonism which -philology has great cause to regret. From the circles upon whose help we -must place the most <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>implicit reliance—the artistic friends of -antiquity, the warm supporters of Hellenic beauty and noble -simplicity—we hear harsh voices crying out that it is precisely the -philologists themselves who are the real opponents and destroyers of the -ideals of antiquity. Schiller upbraided the philologists with having -scattered Homer's laurel crown to the winds. It was none other than -Goethe who, in early life a supporter of Wolf's theories regarding -Homer, recanted in the verses—</p> -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">With subtle wit you took away</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Our former adoration:</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">The Iliad, you may us say,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Was mere conglomeration.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Think it not crime in any way:</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Youth's fervent adoration</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Leads us to know the verity,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">And feel the poet's unity.</span><br /> -</p> -<p>The reason of this want of piety and reverence must lie deeper; and many -are in doubt as to whether philologists are lacking in artistic capacity -and impressions, so that they are unable to do justice to the ideal, or -whether the spirit of negation has become a destructive and iconoclastic -principle of theirs. When, however, even the friends of antiquity, -possessed of such doubts and hesitations, point to our present classical -philology as something questionable, what influence may we not ascribe -to the outbursts of the "realists" and the claptrap of the heroes of the -passing hour? To answer the latter on this occasion, especially when we -consider the nature of the present assembly, would be highly -injudicious; at any rate, if I do <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>not wish to meet with the fate of -that sophist who, when in Sparta, publicly undertook to praise and -defend Herakles, when he was interrupted with the query: "But who then -has found fault with him?" I cannot help thinking, however, that some of -these scruples are still sounding in the ears of not a few in this -gathering; for they may still be frequently heard from the lips of noble -and artistically gifted men—as even an upright philologist must feel -them, and feel them most painfully, at moments when his spirits are -downcast. For the single individual there is no deliverance from the -dissensions referred to; but what we contend and inscribe on our banner -is the fact that classical philology, as a whole, has nothing whatsoever -to do with the quarrels and bickerings of its individual disciples. The -entire scientific and artistic movement of this peculiar centaur is -bent, though with cyclopic slowness, upon bridging over the gulf between -the ideal antiquity—which is perhaps only the magnificent blossoming of -the Teutonic longing for the south—and the real antiquity; and thus -classical philology pursues only the final end of its own being, which -is the fusing together of primarily hostile impulses that have only -forcibly been brought together. Let us talk as we will about the -unattainability of this goal, and even designate the goal itself as an -illogical pretension—the aspiration for it is very real; and I should -like to try to make it clear by an example that the most significant -steps of classical philology never lead away from the ideal antiquity, -but to it; and that, just when people are speaking unwarrantably of the -overthrow of sacred shrines, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>new and more worthy altars are being -erected. Let us then examine the so-called <i>Homeric question</i> from this -standpoint, a question the most important problem of which Schiller -called a scholastic barbarism.</p> - -<p>The important problem referred to is <i>the question of the personality of -Homer</i>.</p> - -<p>We now meet everywhere with the firm opinion that the question of -Homer's personality is no longer timely, and that it is quite a -different thing from the real "Homeric question." It may be added that, -for a given period—such as our present philological period, for -example—the centre of discussion may be removed from the problem of the -poet's personality; for even now a painstaking experiment is being made -to reconstruct the Homeric poems without the aid of personality, -treating them as the work of several different persons. But if the -centre of a scientific question is rightly seen to be where the swelling -tide of new views has risen up, i.e. where individual scientific -investigation comes into contact with the whole life of science and -culture—if any one, in other words, indicates a historico-cultural -valuation as the central point of the question, he must also, in the -province of Homeric criticism, take his stand upon the question of -personality as being the really fruitful oasis in the desert of the -whole argument. For in Homer the modern world, I will not say has -learnt, but has examined, a great historical point of view; and, even -without now putting forward my own opinion as to whether this -examination has been or can be <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>happily carried out, it was at all -events the first example of the application of that productive point of -view. By it scholars learnt to recognise condensed beliefs in the -apparently firm, immobile figures of the life of ancient peoples; by it -they for the first time perceived the wonderful capability of the soul -of a people to represent the conditions of its morals and beliefs in the -form of a personality. When historical criticism has confidently seized -upon this method of evaporating apparently concrete personalities, it is -permissible to point to the first experiment as an important event in -the history of sciences, without considering whether it was successful -in this instance or not.</p> - -<p>It is a common occurrence for a series of striking signs and wonderful -emotions to precede an epoch-making discovery. Even the experiment I -have just referred to has its own attractive history; but it goes back -to a surprisingly ancient era. Friedrich August Wolf has exactly -indicated the spot where Greek antiquity dropped the question. The -zenith of the historico-literary studies of the Greeks, and hence also -of their point of greatest importance—the Homeric question—was reached -in the age of the Alexandrian grammarians. Up to this time the Homeric -question had run through the long chain of a uniform process of -development, of which the standpoint of those grammarians seemed to be -the last link, the last, indeed, which was attainable by antiquity. They -conceived the <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i> as the creations of <i>one single</i> -Homer; they declared it to be psychologically possible for two such -different <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>works to have sprung from the brain of <i>one</i> genius, in -contradiction to the Chorizontes, who represented the extreme limit of -the scepticism of a few detached individuals of antiquity rather than -antiquity itself considered as a whole. To explain the different general -impression of the two books on the assumption that <i>one</i> poet composed -them both, scholars sought assistance by referring to the seasons of the -poet's life, and compared the poet of the <i>Odyssey</i> to the setting sun. -The eyes of those critics were tirelessly on the lookout for -discrepancies in the language and thoughts of the two poems; but at this -time also a history of the Homeric poem and its tradition was prepared, -according to which these discrepancies were not due to Homer, but -to those who committed his words to writing and those who sang them. It -was believed that Homer's poem was passed from one generation to another -<i>viva voce</i>, and faults were attributed to the improvising and at times -forgetful bards. At a certain given date, about the time of Pisistratus, -the poems which had been repeated orally were said to have been -collected in manuscript form; but the scribes, it is added, allowed -themselves to take some liberties with the text by transposing some -lines and adding extraneous matter here and there. This entire -hypothesis is the most important in the domain of literary studies that -antiquity has exhibited; and the acknowledgment of the dissemination of -the Homeric poems by word of mouth, as opposed to the habits of a -book-learned age, shows in particular a depth of ancient sagacity worthy -of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>our admiration. From those times until the generation that produced -Friedrich August Wolf we must take a jump over a long historical vacuum; -but in our own age we find the argument left just as it was at the time -when the power of controversy departed from antiquity, and it is a -matter of indifference to us that Wolf accepted as certain tradition -what antiquity itself had set up only as a hypothesis. It may be -remarked as most characteristic of this hypothesis that, in the -strictest sense, the personality of Homer is treated seriously; that a -certain standard of inner harmony is everywhere presupposed in the -manifestations of the personality; and that, with these two excellent -auxiliary hypotheses, whatever is seen to be below this standard and -opposed to this inner harmony is at once swept aside as un-Homeric. But -even this distinguishing characteristic, in place of wishing to -recognise the supernatural existence of a tangible personality, ascends -likewise through all the stages that lead to that zenith, with -ever-increasing energy and clearness. Individuality is ever more -strongly felt and accentuated; the psychological possibility of a -<i>single</i> Homer is ever more forcibly demanded. If we descend backwards -from this zenith, step by step, we find a guide to the understanding of -the Homeric problem in the person of Aristotle. Homer was for him the -flawless and untiring artist who knew his end and the means to attain -it; but there is still a trace of infantile criticism to be found in -Aristotle—i.e., in the naive concession he made to the public opinion -that considered Homer as the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>author of the original of all comic epics, -the <i>Margites</i>. If we go still further backwards from Aristotle, the -inability to create a personality is seen to increase; more and more -poems are attributed to Homer; and every period lets us see its degree -of criticism by how much and what it considers as Homeric. In this -backward examination, we instinctively feel that away beyond Herodotus -there lies a period in which an immense flood of great epics has been -identified with the name of Homer.</p> - -<p>Let us imagine ourselves as living in the time of Pisistratus: the word -"Homer" then comprehended an abundance of dissimilarities. What was -meant by "Homer" at that time? It is evident that that generation found -itself unable to grasp a personality and the limits of its -manifestations. Homer had now become of small consequence. And then we -meet with the weighty question: What lies before this period? Has -Homer's personality, because it cannot be grasped, gradually faded away -into an empty name? Or had all the Homeric poems been gathered together -in a body, the nation naively representing itself by the figure of -Homer? <i>Was the person created out of a conception, or the conception -out of a person?</i> This is the real "Homeric question," the central -problem of the personality.</p> - -<p>The difficulty of answering this question, however, is increased when we -seek a reply in another direction, from the standpoint of the poems -themselves which have come down to us. As it is difficult for us at the -present day, and necessitates <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>a serious effort on our part, to -understand the law of gravitation clearly—that the earth alters its -form of motion when another heavenly body changes its position in space, -although no material connection unites one to the other—it likewise -costs us some trouble to obtain a clear impression of that wonderful -problem which, like a coin long passed from hand to hand, has lost its -original and highly conspicuous stamp. Poetical works, which cause the -hearts of even the greatest geniuses to fail when they endeavour to vie -with them, and in which unsurpassable images are held up for the -admiration of posterity—and yet the poet who wrote them with only a -hollow, shaky name, whenever we do lay hold on him; nowhere the solid -kernel of a powerful personality. "For who would wage war with the gods: -who, even with the one god?" asks Goethe even, who, though a genius, -strove in vain to solve that mysterious problem of the Homeric -inaccessibility.</p> - -<p>The conception of popular poetry seemed to lead like a bridge over this -problem—a deeper and more original power than that of every single -creative individual was said to have become active; the happiest people, -in the happiest period of its existence, in the highest activity of -fantasy and formative power, was said to have created those immeasurable -poems. In this universality there is something almost intoxicating in -the thought of a popular poem: we feel, with artistic pleasure, the -broad, overpowering liberation of a popular gift, and we delight in this -natural phenomenon as we do in an uncontrollable cataract. But as -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>soon -as we examine this thought at close quarters, we involuntarily put a -poetic <i>mass of people</i> in the place of the poetising <i>soul of the -people</i>: a long row of popular poets in whom individuality has no -meaning, and in whom the tumultuous movement of a people's soul, the -intuitive strength of a people's eye, and the unabated profusion of a -people's fantasy, were once powerful: a row of original geniuses, -attached to a time, to a poetic genus, to a subject-matter.</p> - -<p>Such a conception justly made people suspicious. Could it be possible -that that same Nature who so sparingly distributed her rarest and most -precious production—genius—should suddenly take the notion of -lavishing her gifts in one sole direction? And here the thorny question -again made its appearance: Could we not get along with one genius only, -and explain the present existence of that unattainable excellence? And -now eyes were keenly on the lookout for whatever that excellence and -singularity might consist of. Impossible for it to be in the -construction of the complete works, said one party, for this is far from -faultless; but doubtless to be found in single songs: in the single -pieces above all; not in the whole. A second party, on the other hand, -sheltered themselves beneath the authority of Aristotle, who especially -admired Homer's "divine" nature in the choice of his entire subject, and -the manner in which he planned and carried it out. If, however, this -construction was not clearly seen, this fault was due to the way the -poems were handed down to posterity and not to the poet himself -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>—it was -the result of retouchings and interpolations, owing to which the -original setting of the work gradually became obscured. The more the -first school looked for inequalities, contradictions, perplexities, the -more energetically did the other school brush aside what in their -opinion obscured the original plan, in order, if possible, that nothing -might be left remaining but the actual words of the original epic -itself. The second school of thought of course held fast by the -conception of an epoch-making genius as the composer of the great works. -The first school, on the other hand, wavered between the supposition of -one genius plus a number of minor poets, and another hypothesis which -assumed only a number of superior and even mediocre individual bards, -but also postulated a mysterious discharging, a deep, national, artistic -impulse, which shows itself in individual minstrels as an almost -indifferent medium. It is to this latter school that we must attribute -the representation of the Homeric poems as the expression of that -mysterious impulse.</p> - -<p>All these schools of thought start from the assumption that the problem -of the present form of these epics can be solved from the standpoint of -an æsthetic judgment—but we must await the decision as to the -authorised line of demarcation between the man of genius and the -poetical soul of the people. Are there characteristic differences -between the utterances of the <i>man of genius</i> and the <i>poetical soul of -the people</i>?</p> - -<p>This whole contrast, however, is unjust and misleading. There is no -more dangerous <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>assumption in modern æsthetics than that of <i>popular -poetry</i> and <i>individual poetry</i>, or, as it is usually called, <i>artistic -poetry</i>. This is the reaction, or, if you will, the superstition, which -followed upon the most momentous discovery of historico-philological -science, the discovery and appreciation of the <i>soul of the people</i>. For -this discovery prepared the way for a coming scientific view of history, -which was until then, and in many respects is even now, a mere -collection of materials, with the prospect that new materials would -continue to be added, and that the huge, overflowing pile would never be -systematically arranged. The people now understood for the first time -that the long-felt power of greater individualities and wills was larger -than the pitifully small will of an individual man;<a name="FNanchor_1_13" id="FNanchor_1_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_13" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> they now saw that -everything truly great in the kingdom of the will could not have its -deepest root in the inefficacious and ephemeral individual will; and, -finally, they now discovered the powerful instincts of the masses, and -diagnosed those unconscious impulses to be the foundations and supports -of the so-called universal history. But the newly-lighted flame also -cast its shadow: and this shadow was none other than that superstition -already referred to, which popular poetry set up in opposition to -individual poetry, and thus enlarged the comprehension of the people's -soul to that of the people's mind. By the misapplication of a tempting -analogical inference, people had <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>reached the point of applying in the -domain of the intellect and artistic ideas that principle of greater -individuality which is truly applicable only in the domain of the will. -The masses have never experienced more flattering treatment than in thus -having the laurel of genius set upon their empty heads. It was imagined -that new shells were forming round a small kernel, so to speak, and that -those pieces of popular poetry originated like avalanches, in the drift -and flow of tradition. They were, however, ready to consider that kernel -as being of the smallest possible dimensions, so that they might -occasionally get rid of it altogether without losing anything of the -mass of the avalanche. According to this view, the text itself and the -stories built round it are one and the same thing.</p> - -<p>Now, however, such a contrast between popular poetry and individual -poetry does not exist at all; on the contrary, all poetry, and of course -popular poetry also, requires an intermediary individuality. This -much-abused contrast, therefore, is necessary only when the term -<i>individual poem</i> is understood to mean a poem which has not grown out -of the soil of popular feeling, but which has been composed by a -non-popular poet in a non-popular atmosphere—something which has come -to maturity in the study of a learned man, for example.</p> - -<p>With the superstition which presupposes poetising masses is connected -another: that popular poetry is limited to one particular period of a -people's history and afterwards dies out—which indeed follows as a -consequence of the first superstition I have mentioned. According to -this <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>school, in the place of the gradually decaying popular poetry we -have artistic poetry, the work of individual minds, not of masses of -people. But the same powers which were once active are still so; and the -form in which they act has remained exactly the same. The great poet of -a literary period is still a popular poet in no narrower sense than the -popular poet of an illiterate age. The difference between them is not in -the way they originate, but it is their diffusion and propagation, in -short, <i>tradition</i>. This tradition is exposed to eternal danger without -the help of handwriting, and runs the risk of including in the poems the -remains of those individualities through whose oral tradition they were -handed down.</p> - -<p>If we apply all these principles to the Homeric poems, it follows that -we gain nothing with our theory of the poetising soul of the people, and -that we are always referred back to the poetical individual. We are thus -confronted with the task of distinguishing that which can have -originated only in a single poetical mind from that which is, so to -speak, swept up by the tide of oral tradition, and which is a highly -important constituent part of the Homeric poems.</p> - -<p>Since literary history first ceased to be a mere collection of names, -people have attempted to grasp and formulate the individualities of the -poets. A certain mechanism forms part of the method: it must be -explained—i.e., it must be deduced from principles—why this or that -individuality appears in this way and not in that. People now study -biographical details, environment, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>acquaintances, contemporary events, -and believe that by mixing all these ingredients together they will be -able to manufacture the wished-for individuality. But they forget that -the <i>punctum saliens</i>, the indefinable individual characteristics, can -never be obtained from a compound of this nature. The less there is -known about the life and times of the poet, the less applicable is this -mechanism. When, however, we have merely the works and the name of the -writer, it is almost impossible to detect the individuality, at all -events, for those who put their faith in the mechanism in question; and -particularly when the works are perfect, when they are pieces of popular -poetry. For the best way for these mechanicians to grasp individual -characteristics is by perceiving deviations from the genius of the -people; the aberrations and hidden allusions: and the fewer -discrepancies to be found in a poem the fainter will be the traces of -the individual poet who composed it.</p> - -<p>All those deviations, everything dull and below the ordinary standard -which scholars think they perceive in the Homeric poems, were attributed -to tradition, which thus became the scapegoat. What was left of Homer's -own individual work? Nothing but a series of beautiful and prominent -passages chosen in accordance with subjective taste. The sum total of -æsthetic singularity which every individual scholar perceived with his -own artistic gifts, he now called Homer.</p> - -<p>This is the central point of the Homeric errors. The name of Homer, from -the very beginning, has <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>no connection either with the conception of -æsthetic perfection or yet with the <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i>. Homer as -the composer of the <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i> is not a historical -tradition, but an <i>æsthetic judgment</i>.</p> - -<p>The only path which leads back beyond the time of Pisistratus and helps -us to elucidate the meaning of the name Homer, takes its way on the one -hand through the reports which have reached us concerning Homer's -birthplace: from which we see that, although his name is always -associated with heroic epic poems, he is on the other hand no more -referred to as the composer of the <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i> than as the -author of the <i>Thebais</i> or any other cyclical epic. On the other hand, -again, an old tradition tells of the contest between Homer and Hesiod, -which proves that when these two names were mentioned people -instinctively thought of two epic tendencies, the heroic and the -didactic; and that the signification of the name "Homer" was included in -the material category and not in the formal. This imaginary contest with -Hesiod did not even yet show the faintest presentiment of individuality. -From the time of Pisistratus onwards, however, with the surprisingly -rapid development of the Greek feeling for beauty, the differences in -the æsthetic value of those epics continued to be felt more and more: -the <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i> arose from the depths of the flood and -have remained on the surface ever since. With this process of æsthetic -separation, the conception of Homer gradually became narrower: the old -material meaning of the name "Homer" <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>as the father of the heroic epic -poem, was changed into the æsthetic meaning of Homer, the father of -poetry in general, and likewise its original prototype. This -transformation was contemporary with the rationalistic criticism which -made Homer the magician out to be a possible poet, which vindicated the -material and formal traditions of those numerous epics as against the -unity of the poet, and gradually removed that heavy load of cyclical -epics from Homer's shoulders.</p> - -<p>So Homer, the poet of the <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i>, is an æsthetic -judgment. It is, however, by no means affirmed against the poet of these -epics that he was merely the imaginary being of an æsthetic -impossibility, which can be the opinion of only very few philologists -indeed. The majority contend that a single individual was responsible -for the general design of a poem such as the <i>Iliad</i>, and further that -this individual was Homer. The first part of this contention may be -admitted; but, in accordance with what I have said, the latter part must -be denied. And I very much doubt whether the majority of those who adopt -the first part of the contention have taken the following considerations -into account.</p> - -<p>The design of an epic such as the <i>Iliad</i> is not an entire <i>whole</i>, not -an organism; but a number of pieces strung together, a collection of -reflections arranged in accordance with æsthetic rules. It is certainly -the standard of an artist's greatness to note what he can take in with a -single glance and set out in rhythmical form. The infinite profusion of -images and incidents in the Homeric epic must <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>force us to admit that -such a wide range of vision is next to impossible. Where, however, a -poet is unable to observe artistically with a single glance, he usually -piles conception on conception, and endeavours to adjust his characters -according to a comprehensive scheme.</p> - -<p>He will succeed in this all the better the more he is familiar with the -fundamental principles of æsthetics: he will even make some believe -that he made himself master of the entire subject by a single powerful -glance.</p> - -<p>The <i>Iliad</i> is not a garland, but a bunch of flowers. As many pictures -as possible are crowded on one canvas; but the man who placed them there -was indifferent as to whether the grouping of the collected pictures was -invariably suitable and rhythmically beautiful. He well knew that no one -would ever consider the collection as a whole; but would merely look at -the individual parts. But that stringing together of some pieces as the -manifestations of a grasp of art which was not yet highly developed, -still less thoroughly comprehended and generally esteemed, cannot have -been the real Homeric deed, the real Homeric epoch-making event. On the -contrary, this design is a later product, far later than Homer's -celebrity. Those, therefore, who look for the "original and perfect -design" are looking for a mere phantom; for the dangerous path of oral -tradition had reached its end just as the systematic arrangement -appeared on the scene; the disfigurements which were caused on the way -could not have affected the design, for this did not form part of the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>material handed down from generation to generation.</p> - -<p>The relative imperfection of the design must not, however, prevent us -from seeing in the designer a different personality from the real poet. -It is not only probable that everything which was created in those times -with conscious æsthetic insight, was infinitely inferior to the songs -that sprang up naturally in the poet's mind and were written down with -instinctive power: we can even take a step further. If we include the -so-called cyclic poems in this comparison, there remains for the -designer of the <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i> the indisputable merit of -having done something relatively great in this conscious technical -composing: a merit which we might have been prepared to recognise from -the beginning, and which is in my opinion of the very first order in the -domain of instinctive creation. We may even be ready to pronounce this -synthetisation of great importance. All those dull passages and -discrepancies—deemed of such importance, but really only subjective, -which we usually look upon as the petrified remains of the period of -tradition—are not these perhaps merely the almost necessary evils which -must fall to the lot of the poet of genius who undertakes a composition -virtually without a parallel, and, further, one which proves to be of -incalculable difficulty?</p> - -<p>Let it be noted that the insight into the most diverse operations of the -instinctive and the conscious changes the position of the Homeric -problem; and in my opinion throws light upon it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>We believe in a great poet as the author of the <i>Iliad</i> and the -<i>Odyssey—but not that Homer was this poet</i>.</p> - -<p>The decision on this point has already been given. The generation that -invented those numerous Homeric fables, that poetised the myth of the -contest between Homer and Hesiod, and looked upon all the poems of the -epic cycle as Homeric, did not feel an æsthetic but a material -singularity when it pronounced the name "Homer." This period regards -Homer as belonging to the ranks of artists like Orpheus, Eumolpus, -Dædalus, and Olympus, the mythical discoverers of a new branch of art, -to whom, therefore, all the later fruits which grew from the new branch -were thankfully dedicated.</p> - -<p>And that wonderful genius to whom we owe the <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i> -belongs to this thankful posterity: he, too, sacrificed his name on the -altar of the primeval father of the Homeric epic, Homeros.</p> - -<p>Up to this point, gentlemen, I think I have been able to put before you -the fundamental philosophical and æsthetic characteristics of the -problem of the personality of Homer, keeping all minor details -rigorously at a distance, on the supposition that the primary form of -this widespread and honeycombed mountain known as the Homeric question -can be most clearly observed by looking down at it from a far-off -height. But I have also, I imagine, recalled two facts to those friends -of antiquity who take such delight in accusing us philologists of lack -of piety for great <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>conceptions and an unproductive zeal for -destruction. In the first place, those "great" conceptions—such, for -example, as that of the indivisible and inviolable poetic genius, -Homer—were during the pre-Wolfian period only too great, and hence -inwardly altogether empty and elusive when we now try to grasp them. If -classical philology goes back again to the same conceptions, and once -more tries to pour new wine into old bottles, it is only on the surface -that the conceptions are the same: everything has really become new; -bottle and mind, wine and word. We everywhere find traces of the fact -that philology has lived in company with poets, thinkers, and artists -for the last hundred years: whence it has now come about that the heap -of ashes formerly pointed to as classical philology is now turned into -fruitful and even rich soil.<a name="FNanchor_2_14" id="FNanchor_2_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_14" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>And there is a second fact which I should like to recall to the memory -of those friends of antiquity who turn their dissatisfied backs on -classical philology. You honour the immortal masterpieces of the -Hellenic mind in poetry and sculpture, and think yourselves so much more -fortunate than preceding generations, which had to do without them; but -you must not forget that this whole fairyland once lay buried under -mountains of prejudice, and that the blood and sweat and arduous labour -of innumerable followers of our science were all necessary to lift up -that world <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>from the chasm into which it had sunk. We grant that -philology is not the creator of this world, not the composer of that -immortal music; but is it not a merit, and a great merit, to be a mere -virtuoso, and let the world for the first time hear that music which lay -so long in obscurity, despised and undecipherable? Who was Homer -previously to Wolf's brilliant investigations? A good old man, known at -best as a "natural genius," at all events the child of a barbaric age, -replete with faults against good taste and good morals. Let us hear how -a learned man of the first rank writes about Homer even so late as 1783: -"Where does the good man live? Why did he remain so long incognito? -Apropos, can't you get me a silhouette of him?"</p> - -<p>We demand _thanks_—not in our own name, for we are but atoms—but in -the name of philology itself, which is indeed neither a Muse nor a -Grace, but a messenger of the gods: and just as the Muses descended upon -the dull and tormented Boeotian peasants, so Philology comes into a -world full of gloomy colours and pictures, full of the deepest, most -incurable woes; and speaks to men comfortingly of the beautiful and -godlike figure of a distant, rosy, and happy fairyland.</p> - -<p>It is time to close; yet before I do so a few words of a personal -character must be added, justified, I hope, by the occasion of this -lecture.</p> - -<p>It is but right that a philologist should describe his end and the means -to it in the short formula <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>of a confession of faith; and let this be -done in the saying of Seneca which I thus reverse—</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Philosophia facta est quæ philologia fuit."</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>By this I wish to signify that all philological activities should be -enclosed and surrounded by a philosophical view of things, in which -everything individual and isolated is evaporated as something -detestable, and in which great homogeneous views alone remain. Now, -therefore, that I have enunciated my philological creed, I trust you -will give me cause to hope that I shall no longer be a stranger among -you: give me the assurance that in working with you towards this end I -am worthily fulfilling the confidence with which the highest authorities -of this community have honoured me.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_13" id="Footnote_1_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_13"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Of course Nietzsche saw afterwards that this was not so.—TR.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_14" id="Footnote_2_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_14"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Nietzsche perceived later on that this statement was, -unfortunately, not justified.—TR.</p></div> - - - - - - - - - -<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51580 ***</div> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/51580-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/51580-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 825a2c3..0000000 --- a/old/51580-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51580-h/images/ill_niet.jpg b/old/51580-h/images/ill_niet.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d035085..0000000 --- a/old/51580-h/images/ill_niet.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old/51580-0.txt b/old/old/51580-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0360af8..0000000 --- a/old/old/51580-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4676 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of On the Future of our Educational -Institutions - Homer and Classic, by Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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 included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: On the Future of our Educational Institutions - Homer and Classical Philology - Complete Works, Volume Three - -Author: Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche - -Editor: Oscar Levy - -Translator: J. M. Kennedy - -Release Date: March 28, 2016 [EBook #51580] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FUTURE OF OUR EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS *** - - - - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org -(Images generously made available by the Hathi Trust. - - - - - -ON THE FUTURE OF OUR -EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS - -HOMER AND CLASSICAL PHILOLOGY - -By - -FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE - - -TRANSLATED, WITH INTRODUCTION, BY - -J.M. KENNEDY - - - -The Complete Works of Friedrich Nietzsche - -The First Complete and Authorised English Translation - -Edited by Dr Oscar Levy - -Volume Three - -T.N. FOULIS - -13 & 15 FREDERICK STREET - -EDINBURGH: AND LONDON - -1909 - - - - -CONTENTS - -TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION -AUTHOR'S PREFACE -AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION -THE FUTURE OF OUR EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS - FIRST LECTURE - SECOND LECTURE - THIRD LECTURE - FOURTH LECTURE - FIFTH LECTURE -HOMER AND CLASSICAL PHILOLOGY - - - - -TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION - - -"On the Future of our Educational Institutions" comprehends a series -of five lectures delivered by Nietzsche when Professor of Classical -Philology at Băle University. As they were prepared when he was only -twenty-seven years of age, we can scarcely expect to find in them that -broad, "good European" point of view which we meet with in his later -works. These lectures, however, are not only highly interesting in -themselves; but indispensable for those who wish to trace the gradual -development of Nietzsche's thought. - -Nietzsche's aim, as is now pretty well known, was the elevation of the -type man. At this period of his life he believed that this end could -be best attained by the protection and careful development of men of -genius, Hence his antagonism in the following lectures towards the -purely time-serving German schools and colleges of his age, in which -culture was not only neglected but not even known--the one aim of the -teachers being to instruct the pupils in the art of "getting on," of -playing a successful part in the struggle for existence, of becoming -useful citizens. Of course, Nietzsche was too little of a wild reformer -to be adverse to a schooling of this nature. He freely admits that -a bread-winning education is necessary for the majority, and that -officials are necessary to the State; but he adds that everything -learnt as a preparation for taking part in the commercial or political -battle of life has nothing to do with culture. True culture is only for -a few select minds, which it is necessary to bring together under the -protecting roof of an institution that shall prepare them for culture, -and for culture only. Such an institution, he goes on to say, does not -yet exist; but we must have it if the delicate flower of the German -mind is no longer to be choked by the noxious weeds which have gathered -round it. As instances of minds thus "choked," Nietzsche mentions -Lessing, Winckelmann, and Schiller. - -The standard of culture to be aimed at by the man of genius Nietzsche -had in mind was to be found in the model literary and artistic -works which have come down to us from ancient Greece. To understand -these works, of course, the classical authors had to be studied in -the original, and the methods of teaching then in vogue paid too -much attention to inconsequential points (<i>e.g.</i> variant readings) -instead of dealing with the subject in a broad-minded philosophical -spirit. Nietzsche endeavoured to counteract this tendency in the -"Homer and Classical Philology," his inaugural address at Băle -University, by outlining a much vaster conception of philology than -his fellow-teachers had ever dreamt of, laying stress upon the -<i>artistic</i> results which would accrue if the science were applied on a -wider scale--results which would be of a much higher order than those -obtained by the narrow pedantry then prevailing. - -It is a very superficial comment on these lectures to say that -Nietzsche was merely referring to the German schools and colleges -of his time. It would be even shallower to suggest that his remarks -do not apply to the schools and teachers of present-day England and -America; for we likewise do not possess the cultural institution, the -<i>real</i> educational establishment, that Nietzsche longed for. Broadly -speaking, the English public schools, the older English universities, -and the American high schools, train their scholars to be useful to -the State: the modern universities and the remaining schools give that -instructionin bread-winning which Nietzsche admits to be necessary -for the majority; but in no case is an attempt made to pick out a few -higher minds and train them for culture. Our crude methods of teaching -the classical languages are too well known to be commented upon; and -an insight into classical antiquity, with the good taste, the firm -principles, and the lofty aims obtained therefrom, is exactly what -our various educational institutions do not aim at giving. Yet, as -Nietzsche truly says, no progress in any other direction, no matter -how brilliant, can deliver our students from the curse of an education -which adapts itself more and more to the needs of the age, and thus -loses all its power of guiding the age. Let the student who, as the -victim of this system, suffers more from it than his teachers care to -admit, read the paragraph on pp. 132 and 133 containing the sentences-- - - He feels that he can neither lead nor help himself.... His - condition is undignified, even dreadful: he keeps between - the two extremes of work at high pressure and a state of - melancholy enervation.... He seeks consolation in hasty and - incessant action so as to hide himself from himself, etc., - -and then let him confess that Nietzsche's insight into his psychology -is profound and decisive. The whole paragraph might have been written -by Nietzsche after a visit to present-day England. - -As bearing upon the same subject, the reader will find it interesting -to compare the lectures here translated with Matthew Arnold's prose -writings passim, particularly the <i>Essays in Criticism, Mixed Essays,</i> -and <i>Culture and Anarchy</i>. - -J. M. KENNEDY. - -LONDON, May 1909. - - - - - -PREFACE. - - -The reader from whom I expect something must possess three qualities: -he must be calm and must read without haste; he must not be ever -interposing his own personality and his own special "culture"; and he -must not expect as the ultimate results of his study of these pages -that he will be presented with a set of new formulæ. I do not propose -to furnish formulæ or new plans of study for _Gymnasia_ or other -schools; and I am much more inclined to admire the extraordinary power -of those who are able to cover the whole distance between the depths -of empiricism and the heights of special culture-problems, and who -again descend to the level of the driest rules and the most neatly -expressed formulæ. I shall be content if only I can ascend a tolerably -lofty mountain, from the summit of which, after having recovered my -breath, I may obtain a general survey of the ground; for I shall never -be able, in this book, to satisfy the votaries of tabulated rules. -Indeed, I see a time coming when serious men, working together in the -service of a completely rejuvenated and purified culture, may again -become the directors of a system of everyday instruction, calculated -to promote that culture; and they will probably be compelled once more -to draw up sets of rules: but how remote this time now seems! And what -may not happen meanwhile! It is just possible that between now and -then all _Gymnasia_--yea, and perhaps all universities, may be -destroyed, or have become so utterly transformed that their very -regulations may, in the eyes of future generations, seem to be but the -relics of the cave-dwellers' age. - -This book is intended for calm readers,--for men who have not yet been -drawn into the mad headlong rush of our hurry-skurrying age, and who -do not experience any idolatrous delight in throwing themselves -beneath its chariot-wheels. It is for men, therefore, who are not -accustomed to estimate the value of everything according to the amount -of time it either saves or wastes. In short, it is for the few. These, -we believe, "still have time." Without any qualms of conscience they -may improve the most fruitful and vigorous hours of their day in -meditating on the future of our education; they may even believe when -the evening has come that they have used their day in the most -dignified and useful way, namely, in the _meditatio generis futuri_. -No one among them has yet forgotten to think while reading a book; he -still understands the secret of reading between the lines, and is -indeed so generous in what he himself brings to his study, that he -continues to reflect upon what he has read, perhaps long after he has -laid the book aside. And he does this, not because he wishes to write -a criticism about it or even another book; but simply because -reflection is a pleasant pastime to him. Frivolous spendthrift! Thou -art a reader after my own heart; for thou wilt be patient enough to -accompany an author any distance, even though he himself cannot yet -see the goal at which he is aiming,--even though he himself feels only -that he must at all events honestly believe in a goal, in order that a -future and possibly very remote generation may come face to face with -that towards which we are now blindly and instinctively groping. -Should any reader demur and suggest that all that is required is -prompt and bold reform; should he imagine that a new "organisation" -introduced by the State, were all that is necessary, then we fear he -would have misunderstood not only the author but the very nature of -the problem under consideration. - -The third and most important stipulation is, that he should in no case -be constantly bringing himself and his own "culture" forward, after -the style of most modern men, as the correct standard and measure of -all things. We would have him so highly educated that he could even -think meanly of his education or despise it altogether. Only thus -would he be able to trust entirely to the author's guidance; for it is -only by virtue of ignorance and his consciousness of ignorance, that -the latter can dare to make himself heard. Finally, the author would -wish his reader to be fully alive to the specific character of our -present barbarism and of that which distinguishes us, as the -barbarians of the nineteenth century, from other barbarians. - -Now, with this book in his hand, the writer seeks all those who may -happen to be wandering, hither and thither, impelled by feelings -similar to his own. Allow yourselves to be discovered--ye lonely ones -in whose existence I believe! Ye unselfish ones, suffering in -yourselves from the corruption of the German spirit! Ye contemplative -ones who cannot, with hasty glances, turn your eyes swiftly from one -surface to another! Ye lofty thinkers, of whom Aristotle said that ye -wander through life vacillating and inactive so long as no great -honour or glorious Cause calleth you to deeds! It is you I summon! -Refrain this once from seeking refuge in your lairs of solitude and -dark misgivings. Bethink you that this book was framed to be your -herald. When ye shall go forth to battle in your full panoply, who -among you will not rejoice in looking back upon the herald who rallied -you? - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - - -The title I gave to these lectures ought, like all titles, to have -been as definite, as plain, and as significant as possible; now, -however, I observe that owing to a certain excess of precision, in its -present form it is too short and consequently misleading. My first -duty therefore will be to explain the title, together with the object -of these lectures, to you, and to apologise for being obliged to do -this. When I promised to speak to you concerning the future of our -educational institutions, I was not thinking especially of the -evolution of our particular institutions in Bâle. However frequently -my general observations may seem to bear particular application to our -own conditions here, I personally have no desire to draw these -inferences, and do not wish to be held responsible if they should be -drawn, for the simple reason that I consider myself still far too much -an inexperienced stranger among you, and much too superficially -acquainted with your methods, to pretend to pass judgment upon any -such special order of scholastic establishments, or to predict the -probable course their development will follow. On the other hand, I -know full well under what distinguished auspices I have to deliver -these lectures--namely, in a city which is striving to educate and -enlighten its inhabitants on a scale so magnificently out of -proportion to its size, that it must put all larger cities to shame. -This being so, I presume I am justified in assuming that in a quarter -where so much is _done_ for the things of which I wish to speak, -people must also _think_ a good deal about them. My desire--yea, my -very first condition, therefore, would be to become united in spirit -with those who have not only thought very deeply upon educational -problems, but have also the will to promote what they think to be -right by all the means in their power. And, in view of the -difficulties of my task and the limited time at my disposal, to such -listeners, alone, in my audience, shall I be able to make myself -understood--and even then, it will be on condition that they shall -guess what I can do no more than suggest, that they shall supply what -I am compelled to omit; in brief, that they shall need but to be -reminded and not to be taught. Thus, while I disclaim all desire of -being taken for an uninvited adviser on questions relating to the -schools and the University of Bâle, I repudiate even more emphatically -still the rôle of a prophet standing on the horizon of civilisation -and pretending to predict the future of education and of scholastic -organisation. I can no more project my vision through such vast -periods of time than I can rely upon its accuracy when it is brought -too close to an object under examination. With my title: _Our_ -Educational Institutions, I wish to refer neither to the -establishments in Bâle nor to the incalculably vast number of other -scholastic institutions which exist throughout the nations of the -world to-day; but I wish to refer to _German institutions_ of the kind -which we rejoice in here. It is their future that will now engage our -attention, _i.e._ the future of German elementary, secondary, and -public schools (Gymnasien) and universities. While pursuing our -discussion, however, we shall for once avoid all comparisons and -valuations, and guard more especially against that flattering illusion -that our conditions should be regarded as the standard for all others -and as surpassing them. Let it suffice that they are our institutions, -that they have not become a part of ourselves by mere accident, and -were not laid upon us like a garment; but that they are living -monuments of important steps in the progress of civilisation, in some -respects even the furniture of a bygone age, and as such link us with -the past of our people, and are such a sacred and venerable legacy -that I can only undertake to speak of the future of our educational -institutions in the sense of their being a most probable approximation -to the ideal spirit which gave them birth. I am, moreover, convinced -that the numerous alterations which have been introduced into these -institutions within recent years, with the view of bringing them -up-to-date, are for the most part but distortions and aberrations of -the originally sublime tendencies given to them at their foundation. -And what we dare to hope from the future, in this behalf, partakes so -much of the nature of a rejuvenation, a reviviscence, and a refining -of the spirit of Germany that, as a result of this very process, our -educational institutions may also be indirectly remoulded and born -again, so as to appear at once old and new, whereas now they only -profess to be "modern" or "up-to-date." - -Now it is only in the spirit of the hope above mentioned that I wish -to speak of the future of our educational institutions: and this is -the second point in regard to which I must tender an apology from the -outset. The "prophet" pose is such a presumptuous one that it seems -almost ridiculous to deny that I have the intention of adopting it. -No one should attempt to describe the future of our education, and -the means and methods of instruction relating thereto, in a prophetic -spirit, unless he can prove that the picture he draws already exists -in germ to-day, and that all that is required is the extension and -development of this embryo if the necessary modifications are to be -produced in schools and other educational institutions. All I ask, -is, like a Roman haruspex, to be allowed to steal glimpses of the -future out of the very entrails of existing conditions, which, in -this case, means no more than to hand the laurels of victory to any -one of the many forces tending to make itself felt in our present -educational system, despite the fact that the force in question may -be neither a favourite, an esteemed, nor a very extensive one. I -confidently assert that it will be victorious, however, because it -has the strongest and mightiest of all allies in nature herself; and -in this respect it were well did we not forget that scores of the -very first principles of our modern educational methods are -thoroughly artificial, and that the most fatal weaknesses of the -present day are to be ascribed to this artificiality. He who feels in -complete harmony with the present state of affairs and who acquiesces -in it _as something_ "_selbstverständliches_,"[1] excites our envy -neither in regard to his faith nor in regard to that egregious word -"_selbstverständlich_," so frequently heard in fashionable circles. - -He, however, who holds the opposite view and is therefore in despair, -does not need to fight any longer: all he requires is to give himself -up to solitude in order soon to be alone. Albeit, between those who -take everything for granted and these anchorites, there stand the -_fighters_--that is to say, those who still have hope, and as the -noblest and sublimest example of this class, we recognise Schiller as -he is described by Goethe in his "Epilogue to the Bell." - - "Brighter now glow'd his cheek, and still more bright - With that unchanging, ever youthful glow:-- - That courage which o'ercomes, in hard-fought fight, - Sooner or later ev'ry earthly foe,-- - That faith which soaring to the realms of light, - Now boldly presseth on, now bendeth low, - So that the good may work, wax, thrive amain, - So that the day the noble may attain."[2] - -I should like you to regard all I have just said as a kind of preface, -the object of which is to illustrate the title of my lectures and to -guard me against any possible misunderstanding and unjustified -criticisms. And now, in order to give you a rough outline of the range -of ideas from which I shall attempt to form a judgment concerning our -educational institutions, before proceeding to disclose my views and -turning from the title to the main theme, I shall lay a scheme before -you which, like a coat of arms, will serve to warn all strangers who -come to my door, as to the nature of the house they are about to -enter, in case they may feel inclined, after having examined the -device, to turn their backs on the premises that bear it. My scheme is -as follows:-- - -Two seemingly antagonistic forces, equally deleterious in their -actions and ultimately combining to produce their results, are at -present ruling over our educational institutions, although these were -based originally upon very different principles. These forces are: a -striving to achieve the greatest possible _extension of education_ on -the one hand, and a tendency _to minimise and to weaken it_ on the -other. The first-named would fain spread learning among the greatest -possible number of people, the second would compel education to -renounce its highest and most independent claims in order to -subordinate itself to the service of the State. In the face of these -two antagonistic tendencies, we could but give ourselves up to -despair, did we not see the possibility of promoting the cause of two -other contending factors which are fortunately as completely German as -they are rich in promises for the future; I refer to the present -movement towards _limiting and concentrating_ education as the -antithesis of the first of the forces above mentioned, and that other -movement towards the _strengthening and the independence_ of education -as the antithesis of the second force. If we should seek a warrant for -our belief in the ultimate victory of the two last-named movements, we -could find it in the fact that both of the forces which we hold to be -deleterious are so opposed to the eternal purpose of nature as the -concentration of education for the few is in harmony with it, and is -true, whereas the first two forces could succeed only in founding a -culture false to the root. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] Selbstverständlich = "granted or self-understood." - -[2] _The Poems of Goethe._ Edgar Alfred Bowring's Translation. (Ed. -1853.) - - - - -THE FUTURE OF OUR EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. - - - - -FIRST LECTURE. - -(_Delivered on the 16th of January 1872._) - - -Ladies and Gentlemen,--The subject I now propose to consider with you -is such a serious and important one, and is in a sense so disquieting, -that, like you, I would gladly turn to any one who could proffer some -information concerning it,--were he ever so young, were his ideas ever -so improbable--provided that he were able, by the exercise of his own -faculties, to furnish some satisfactory and sufficient explanation. It -is just possible that he may have had the opportunity of _hearing_ -sound views expressed in reference to the vexed question of the future -of our educational institutions, and that he may wish to repeat them -to you; he may even have had distinguished teachers, fully qualified -to foretell what is to come, and, like the _haruspices_ of Rome, able -to do so after an inspection of the entrails of the Present. - -Indeed, you yourselves may expect something of this kind from me. I -happened once, in strange but perfectly harmless circumstances, to -overhear a conversation on this subject between two remarkable men, -and the more striking points of the discussion, together with their -manner of handling the theme, are so indelibly imprinted on my memory -that, whenever I reflect on these matters, I invariably find myself -falling into their grooves of thought. I cannot, however, profess to -have the same courageous confidence which they displayed, both in -their daring utterance of forbidden truths, and in the still more -daring conception of the hopes with which they astonished me. It -therefore seemed to me to be in the highest degree important that a -record of this conversation should be made, so that others might be -incited to form a judgment concerning the striking views and -conclusions it contains: and, to this end, I had special grounds for -believing that I should do well to avail myself of the opportunity -afforded by this course of lectures. - -I am well aware of the nature of the community to whose serious -consideration I now wish to commend that conversation--I know it to be -a community which is striving to educate and enlighten its members on -a scale so magnificently out of proportion to its size that it must -put all larger cities to shame. This being so, I presume I may take it -for granted that in a quarter where so much is _done_ for the things -of which I wish to speak, people must also _think_ a good deal about -them. In my account of the conversation already mentioned, I shall be -able to make myself completely understood only to those among my -audience who will be able to guess what I can do no more than suggest, -who will supply what I am compelled to omit, and who, above all, need -but to be reminded and not taught. - -Listen, therefore, ladies and gentlemen, while I recount my harmless -experience and the less harmless conversation between the two -gentlemen whom, so far, I have not named. - -Let us now imagine ourselves in the position of a young student--that -is to say, in a position which, in our present age of bewildering -movement and feverish excitability, has become an almost impossible -one. It is necessary to have lived through it in order to believe that -such careless self-lulling and comfortable indifference to the moment, -or to time in general, are possible. In this condition I, and a friend -about my own age, spent a year at the University of Bonn on the -Rhine,--it was a year which, in its complete lack of plans and -projects for the future, seems almost like a dream to me now--a dream -framed, as it were, by two periods of growth. We two remained quiet -and peaceful, although we were surrounded by fellows who in the main -were very differently disposed, and from time to time we experienced -considerable difficulty in meeting and resisting the somewhat too -pressing advances of the young men of our own age. Now, however, that -I can look upon the stand we had to take against these opposing -forces, I cannot help associating them in my mind with those checks we -are wont to receive in our dreams, as, for instance, when we imagine -we are able to fly and yet feel ourselves held back by some -incomprehensible power. - -I and my friend had many reminiscences in common, and these dated from -the period of our boyhood upwards. One of these I must relate to you, -since it forms a sort of prelude to the harmless experience already -mentioned. On the occasion of a certain journey up the Rhine, which we -had made together one summer, it happened that he and I independently -conceived the very same plan at the same hour and on the same spot, -and we were so struck by this unwonted coincidence that we determined -to carry the plan out forthwith. We resolved to found a kind of small -club which would consist of ourselves and a few friends, and the -object of which would be to provide us with a stable and binding -organisation directing and adding interest to our creative impulses in -art and literature; or, to put it more plainly: each of us would be -pledged to present an original piece of work to the club once a -month,--either a poem, a treatise, an architectural design, or a -musical composition, upon which each of the others, in a friendly -spirit, would have to pass free and unrestrained criticism. - -We thus hoped, by means of mutual correction, to be able both to -stimulate and to chasten our creative impulses and, as a matter of -fact, the success of the scheme was such that we have both always felt -a sort of respectful attachment for the hour and the place at which it -first took shape in our minds. - -This attachment was very soon transformed into a rite; for we all -agreed to go, whenever it was possible to do so, once a year to that -lonely spot near Rolandseck, where on that summer's day, while sitting -together, lost in meditation, we were suddenly inspired by the same -thought. Frankly speaking, the rules which were drawn up on the -formation of the club were never very strictly observed; but owing to -the very fact that we had many sins of omission on our conscience -during our student-year in Bonn, when we were once more on the banks -of the Rhine, we firmly resolved not only to observe our rule, but -also to gratify our feelings and our sense of gratitude by reverently -visiting that spot near Rolandseck on the day appointed. - -It was, however, with some difficulty that we were able to carry our -plans into execution; for, on the very day we had selected for our -excursion, the large and lively students' association, which always -hindered us in our flights, did their utmost to put obstacles in our -way and to hold us back. Our association had organised a general -holiday excursion to Rolandseck on the very day my friend and I had -fixed upon, the object of the outing being to assemble all its members -for the last time at the close of the half-year and to send them home -with pleasant recollections of their last hours together. - -The day was a glorious one; the weather was of the kind which, in our -climate at least, only falls to our lot in late summer: heaven and -earth merged harmoniously with one another, and, glowing wondrously in -the sunshine, autumn freshness blended with the blue expanse above. -Arrayed in the bright fantastic garb in which, amid the gloomy -fashions now reigning, students alone may indulge, we boarded a -steamer which was gaily decorated in our honour, and hoisted our flag -on its mast. From both banks of the river there came at intervals the -sound of signal-guns, fired according to our orders, with the view of -acquainting both our host in Rolandseck and the inhabitants in the -neighbourhood with our approach. I shall not speak of the noisy -journey from the landing-stage, through the excited and expectant -little place, nor shall I refer to the esoteric jokes exchanged -between ourselves; I also make no mention of a feast which became both -wild and noisy, or of an extraordinary musical production in the -execution of which, whether as soloists or as chorus, we all -ultimately had to share, and which I, as musical adviser of our club, -had not only had to rehearse, but was then forced to conduct. Towards -the end of this piece, which grew ever wilder and which was sung to -ever quicker time, I made a sign to my friend, and just as the last -chord rang like a yell through the building, he and I vanished, -leaving behind us a raging pandemonium. - -In a moment we were in the refreshing and breathless stillness of -nature. The shadows were already lengthening, the sun still shone -steadily, though it had sunk a good deal in the heavens, and from the -green and glittering waves of the Rhine a cool breeze was wafted over -our hot faces. Our solemn rite bound us only in so far as the latest -hours of the day were concerned, and we therefore determined to employ -the last moments of clear daylight by giving ourselves up to one of -our many hobbies. - -At that time we were passionately fond of pistol-shooting, and both of -us in later years found the skill we had acquired as amateurs of great -use in our military career. Our club servant happened to know the -somewhat distant and elevated spot which we used as a range, and had -carried our pistols there in advance. The spot lay near the upper -border of the wood which covered the lesser heights behind Rolandseck: -it was a small uneven plateau, close to the place we had consecrated -in memory of its associations. On a wooded slope alongside of our -shooting-range there was a small piece of ground which had been -cleared of wood, and which made an ideal halting-place; from it one -could get a view of the Rhine over the tops of the trees and the -brushwood, so that the beautiful, undulating lines of the Seven -Mountains and above all of the Drachenfels bounded the horizon against -the group of trees, while in the centre of the bow formed by the -glistening Rhine itself the island of Nonnenwörth stood out as if -suspended in the river's arms. This was the place which had become -sacred to us through the dreams and plans we had had in common, and to -which we intended to withdraw, later in the evening,--nay, to which we -should be obliged to withdraw, if we wished to close the day in -accordance with the law we had imposed on ourselves. - -At one end of the little uneven plateau, and not very far away, there -stood the mighty trunk of an oak-tree, prominently visible against a -background quite bare of trees and consisting merely of low undulating -hills in the distance. Working together, we had once carved a -pentagram in the side of this tree-trunk. Years of exposure to rain -and storm had slightly deepened the channels we had cut, and the -figure seemed a welcome target for our pistol-practice. It was already -late in the afternoon when we reached our improvised range, and our -oak-stump cast a long and attenuated shadow across the barren heath. -All was still: thanks to the lofty trees at our feet, we were unable -to catch a glimpse of the valley of the Rhine below. The peacefulness -of the spot seemed only to intensify the loudness of our -pistol-shots--and I had scarcely fired my second barrel at the -pentagram when I felt some one lay hold of my arm and noticed that my -friend had also some one beside him who had interrupted his loading. - -Turning sharply on my heels I found myself face to face with an -astonished old gentleman, and felt what must have been a very powerful -dog make a lunge at my back. My friend had been approached by a -somewhat younger man than I had; but before we could give expression -to our surprise the older of the two interlopers burst forth in the -following threatening and heated strain: "No! no!" he called to us, -"no duels must be fought here, but least of all must you young -students fight one. Away with these pistols and compose yourselves. Be -reconciled, shake hands! What?--and are you the salt of the earth, -the intelligence of the future, the seed of our hopes--and are you -not even able to emancipate yourselves from the insane code of honour -and its violent regulations? I will not cast any aspersions on your -hearts, but your heads certainly do you no credit. You, whose youth is -watched over by the wisdom of Greece and Rome, and whose youthful -spirits, at the cost of enormous pains, have been flooded with the -light of the sages and heroes of antiquity,--can you not refrain from -making the code of knightly honour--that is to say, the code of folly -and brutality--the guiding principle of your conduct?--Examine it -rationally once and for all, and reduce it to plain terms; lay its -pitiable narrowness bare, and let it be the touchstone, not of your -hearts but of your minds. If you do not regret it then, it will merely -show that your head is not fitted for work in a sphere where great -gifts of discrimination are needful in order to burst the bonds of -prejudice, and where a well-balanced understanding is necessary for -the purpose of distinguishing right from wrong, even when the -difference between them lies deeply hidden and is not, as in this -case, so ridiculously obvious. In that case, therefore, my lads, try -to go through life in some other honourable manner; join the army or -learn a handicraft that pays its way." - -To this rough, though admittedly just, flood of eloquence, we replied -with some irritation, interrupting each other continually in so doing: -"In the first place, you are mistaken concerning the main point; for -we are not here to fight a duel at all; but rather to practise -pistol-shooting. Secondly, you do not appear to know how a real duel -is conducted;--do you suppose that we should have faced each other in -this lonely spot, like two highwaymen, without seconds or doctors, -etc. etc.? Thirdly, with regard to the question of duelling, we each -have our own opinions, and do not require to be waylaid and surprised -by the sort of instruction you may feel disposed to give us." - -This reply, which was certainly not polite, made a bad impression upon -the old man. At first, when he heard that we were not about to fight a -duel, he surveyed us more kindly: but when we reached the last passage -of our speech, he seemed so vexed that he growled. When, however, we -began to speak of our point of view, he quickly caught hold of his -companion, turned sharply round, and cried to us in bitter tones: -"People should not have points of view, but thoughts!" And then his -companion added: "Be respectful when a man such as this even makes -mistakes!" - -Meanwhile, my friend, who had reloaded, fired a shot at the pentagram, -after having cried: "Look out!" This sudden report behind his back -made the old man savage; once more he turned round and looked sourly -at my friend, after which he said to his companion in a feeble voice: -"What shall we do? These young men will be the death of me with their -firing."--"You should know," said the younger man, turning to us, -"that your noisy pastimes amount, as it happens on this occasion, to -an attempt upon the life of philosophy. You observe this venerable -man,--he is in a position to beg you to desist from firing here. And -when such a man begs----" "Well, his request is generally granted," -the old man interjected, surveying us sternly. - -As a matter of fact, we did not know what to make of the whole matter; -we could not understand what our noisy pastimes could have in common -with philosophy; nor could we see why, out of regard for polite -scruples, we should abandon our shooting-range, and at this moment we -may have appeared somewhat undecided and perturbed. The companion -noticing our momentary discomfiture, proceeded to explain the matter -to us. - -"We are compelled," he said, "to linger in this immediate -neighbourhood for an hour or so; we have a rendezvous here. An eminent -friend of this eminent man is to meet us here this evening; and we had -actually selected this peaceful spot, with its few benches in the -midst of the wood, for the meeting. It would really be most unpleasant -if, owing to your continual pistol-practice, we were to be subjected -to an unending series of shocks; surely your own feelings will tell -you that it is impossible for you to continue your firing when you -hear that he who has selected this quiet and isolated place for a -meeting with a friend is one of our most eminent philosophers." - -This explanation only succeeded in perturbing us the more; for we saw -a danger threatening us which was even greater than the loss of our -shooting-range, and we asked eagerly, "Where is this quiet spot? -Surely not to the left here, in the wood?" - -"That is the very place." - -"But this evening that place belongs to us," my friend interposed. "We -must have it," we cried together. - -Our long-projected celebration seemed at that moment more important -than all the philosophies of the world, and we gave such vehement and -animated utterance to our sentiments that in view of the -incomprehensible nature of our claims we must have cut a somewhat -ridiculous figure. At any rate, our philosophical interlopers regarded -us with expressions of amused inquiry, as if they expected us to -proffer some sort of apology. But we were silent, for we wished above -all to keep our secret. - -Thus we stood facing one another in silence, while the sunset dyed the -tree-tops a ruddy gold. The philosopher contemplated the sun, his -companion contemplated him, and we turned our eyes towards our nook in -the woods which to-day we seemed in such great danger of losing. A -feeling of sullen anger took possession of us. What is philosophy, we -asked ourselves, if it prevents a man from being by himself or from -enjoying the select company of a friend,--in sooth, if it prevents him -from becoming a philosopher? For we regarded the celebration of our -rite as a thoroughly philosophical performance. In celebrating it we -wished to form plans and resolutions for the future, by means of quiet -reflections we hoped to light upon an idea which would once again help -us to form and gratify our spirit in the future, just as that former -idea had done during our boyhood. The solemn act derived its very -significance from this resolution, that nothing definite was to be -done, we were only to be alone, and to sit still and meditate, as we -had done five years before when we had each been inspired with the -same thought. It was to be a silent solemnisation, all reminiscence -and all future; the present was to be as a hyphen between the two. And -fate, now unfriendly, had just stepped into our magic circle--and we -knew not how to dismiss her;--the very unusual character of the -circumstances filled us with mysterious excitement. - -Whilst we stood thus in silence for some time, divided into two -hostile groups, the clouds above waxed ever redder and the evening -seemed to grow more peaceful and mild; we could almost fancy we heard -the regular breathing of nature as she put the final touches to her -work of art--the glorious day we had just enjoyed; when, suddenly, the -calm evening air was rent by a confused and boisterous cry of joy -which seemed to come from the Rhine. A number of voices could be heard -in the distance--they were those of our fellow-students who by that -time must have taken to the Rhine in small boats. It occurred to us -that we should be missed and that we should also miss something: -almost simultaneously my friend and I raised our pistols: our shots -were echoed back to us, and with their echo there came from the valley -the sound of a well-known cry intended as a signal of identification. -For our passion for shooting had brought us both repute and ill-repute -in our club. At the same time we were conscious that our behaviour -towards the silent philosophical couple had been exceptionally -ungentlemanly; they had been quietly contemplating us for some time, -and when we fired the shock made them draw close up to each other. We -hurried up to them, and each in our turn cried out: "Forgive us. That -was our last shot, and it was intended for our friends on the Rhine. -They have understood us, do you hear? If you insist upon having that -place among the trees, grant us at least the permission to recline -there also. You will find a number of benches on the spot: we shall -not disturb you; we shall sit quite still and shall not utter a word: -but it is now past seven o'clock and we _must_ go there at once. - -"That sounds more mysterious than it is," I added after a pause; "we -have made a solemn vow to spend this coming hour on that ground, and -there were reasons for the vow. The spot is sacred to us, owing to -some pleasant associations, it must also inaugurate a good future for -us. We shall therefore endeavour to leave you with no disagreeable -recollections of our meeting--even though we have done much to perturb -and frighten you." - -The philosopher was silent; his companion, however, said: "Our -promises and plans unfortunately compel us not only to remain, but -also to spend the same hour on the spot you have selected. It is left -for us to decide whether fate or perhaps a spirit has been responsible -for this extraordinary coincidence." - -"Besides, my friend," said the philosopher, "I am not half so -displeased with these warlike youngsters as I was. Did you observe -how quiet they were a moment ago, when we were contemplating the sun? -They neither spoke nor smoked, they stood stone still, I even believe -they meditated." - -Turning suddenly in our direction, he said: "_Were_ you meditating? -Just tell me about it as we proceed in the direction of our common -trysting-place." We took a few steps together and went down the slope -into the warm balmy air of the woods where it was already much darker. -On the way my friend openly revealed his thoughts to the philosopher, -he confessed how much he had feared that perhaps to-day for the first -time a philosopher was about to stand in the way of his -philosophising. - -The sage laughed. "What? You were afraid a philosopher would prevent -your philosophising? This might easily happen: and you have not yet -experienced such a thing? Has your university life been free from -experience? You surely attend lectures on philosophy?" - -This question discomfited us; for, as a matter of fact, there had been -no element of philosophy in our education up to that time. In those -days, moreover, we fondly imagined that everybody who held the post -and possessed the dignity of a philosopher must perforce be one: we -were inexperienced and badly informed. We frankly admitted that we had -not yet belonged to any philosophical college, but that we would -certainly make up for lost time. - -"Then what," he asked, "did you mean when you spoke of -philosophising?" Said I, "We are at a loss for a definition. But to -all intents and purposes we meant this, that we wished to make earnest -endeavours to consider the best possible means of becoming men of -culture." "That is a good deal and at the same time very little," -growled the philosopher; "just you think the matter over. Here are our -benches, let us discuss the question exhaustively: I shall not disturb -your meditations with regard to how you are to become men of culture. -I wish you success and--points of view, as in your duelling questions; -brand-new, original, and enlightened points of view. The philosopher -does not wish to prevent your philosophising: but refrain at least -from disconcerting him with your pistol-shots. Try to imitate the -Pythagoreans to-day: they, as servants of a true philosophy, had to -remain silent for five years--possibly you may also be able to remain -silent for five times fifteen minutes, as servants of your own future -culture, about which you seem so concerned." - -We had reached our destination: the solemnisation of our rite began. -As on the previous occasion, five years ago, the Rhine was once more -flowing beneath a light mist, the sky seemed bright and the woods -exhaled the same fragrance. We took our places on the farthest corner -of the most distant bench; sitting there we were almost concealed, and -neither the philosopher nor his companion could see our faces. We were -alone: when the sound of the philosopher's voice reached us, it had -become so blended with the rustling leaves and with the buzzing -murmur of the myriads of living things inhabiting the wooded height, -that it almost seemed like the music of nature; as a sound it -resembled nothing more than a distant monotonous plaint. We were -indeed undisturbed. - -Some time elapsed in this way, and while the glow of sunset grew -steadily paler the recollection of our youthful undertaking in the -cause of culture waxed ever more vivid. It seemed to us as if we owed -the greatest debt of gratitude to that little society we had founded; -for it had done more than merely supplement our public school -training; it had actually been the only fruitful society we had had, -and within its frame we even placed our public school life, as a -purely isolated factor helping us in our general efforts to attain to -culture. - -We knew this, that, thanks to our little society, no thought of -embracing any particular career had ever entered our minds in those -days. The all too frequent exploitation of youth by the State, for its -own purposes--that is to say, so that it may rear useful officials as -quickly as possible and guarantee their unconditional obedience to it -by means of excessively severe examinations--had remained quite -foreign to our education. And to show how little we had been actuated -by thoughts of utility or by the prospect of speedy advancement and -rapid success, on that day we were struck by the comforting -consideration that, even then, we had not yet decided what we should -be--we had not even troubled ourselves at all on this head. Our little -society had sown the seeds of this happy indifference in our souls and -for it alone we were prepared to celebrate the anniversary of its -foundation with hearty gratitude. I have already pointed out, I think, -that in the eyes of the present age, which is so intolerant of -anything that is not useful, such purposeless enjoyment of the moment, -such a lulling of one's self in the cradle of the present, must seem -almost incredible and at all events blameworthy. How useless we were! -And how proud we were of being useless! We used even to quarrel with -each other as to which of us should have the glory of being the more -useless. We wished to attach no importance to anything, to have strong -views about nothing, to aim at nothing; we wanted to take no thought -for the morrow, and desired no more than to recline comfortably like -good-for-nothings on the threshold of the present; and we did--bless -us! - ---That, ladies and gentlemen, was our standpoint then!-- - -Absorbed in these reflections, I was just about to give an answer to -the question of the future of _our_ Educational Institutions in the -same self-sufficient way, when it gradually dawned upon me that the -"natural music," coming from the philosopher's bench had lost its -original character and travelled to us in much more piercing and -distinct tones than before. Suddenly I became aware that I was -listening, that I was eavesdropping, and was passionately interested, -with both ears keenly alive to every sound. I nudged my friend who was -evidently somewhat tired, and I whispered: "Don't fall asleep! There -is something for us to learn over there. It applies to us, even -though it be not meant for us." - -For instance, I heard the younger of the two men defending himself -with great animation while the philosopher rebuked him with ever -increasing vehemence. "You are unchanged," he cried to him, -"unfortunately unchanged. It is quite incomprehensible to me how you -can still be the same as you were seven years ago, when I saw you for -the last time and left you with so much misgiving. I fear I must once -again divest you, however reluctantly, of the skin of modern culture -which you have donned meanwhile;--and what do I find beneath it? The -same immutable 'intelligible' character forsooth, according to Kant; -but unfortunately the same unchanged 'intellectual' character, -too--which may also be a necessity, though not a comforting one. I ask -myself to what purpose have I lived as a philosopher, if, possessed as -you are of no mean intelligence and a genuine thirst for knowledge, -all the years you have spent in my company have left no deeper -impression upon you. At present you are behaving as if you had not -even heard the cardinal principle of all culture, which I went to such -pains to inculcate upon you during our former intimacy. Tell me,--what -was that principle?" - -"I remember," replied the scolded pupil, "you used to say no one would -strive to attain to culture if he knew how incredibly small the number -of really cultured people actually is, and can ever be. And even this -number of really cultured people would not be possible if a prodigious -multitude, from reasons opposed to their nature and only led on by an -alluring delusion, did not devote themselves to education. It were -therefore a mistake publicly to reveal the ridiculous disproportion -between the number of really cultured people and the enormous -magnitude of the educational apparatus. Here lies the whole secret of -culture--namely, that an innumerable host of men struggle to achieve -it and work hard to that end, ostensibly in their own interests, -whereas at bottom it is only in order that it may be possible for the -few to attain to it." - -"That is the principle," said the philosopher,--"and yet you could so -far forget yourself as to believe that you are one of the few? This -thought has occurred to you--I can see. That, however, is the result -of the worthless character of modern education. The rights of genius -are being democratised in order that people may be relieved of the -labour of acquiring culture, and their need of it. Every one wants if -possible to recline in the shade of the tree planted by genius, and to -escape the dreadful necessity of working for him, so that his -procreation may be made possible. What? Are you too proud to be a -teacher? Do you despise the thronging multitude of learners? Do you -speak contemptuously of the teacher's calling? And, aping my mode of -life, would you fain live in solitary seclusion, hostilely isolated -from that multitude? Do you suppose that you can reach at one bound -what I ultimately had to win for myself only after long and determined -struggles, in order even to be able to live like a philosopher? And do -you not fear that solitude will wreak its vengeance upon you? Just -try living the life of a hermit of culture. One must be blessed with -overflowing wealth in order to live for the good of all on one's own -resources! Extraordinary youngsters! They felt it incumbent upon them -to imitate what is precisely most difficult and most high,--what is -possible only to the master, when they, above all, should know how -difficult and dangerous this is, and how many excellent gifts may be -ruined by attempting it!" - -"I will conceal nothing from you, sir," the companion replied. "I have -heard too much from your lips at odd times and have been too long in -your company to be able to surrender myself entirely to our present -system of education and instruction. I am too painfully conscious of -the disastrous errors and abuses to which you used to call my -attention--though I very well know that I am not strong enough to hope -for any success were I to struggle ever so valiantly against them. I -was overcome by a feeling of general discouragement; my recourse to -solitude was the result neither of pride nor arrogance. I would fain -describe to you what I take to be the nature of the educational -questions now attracting such enormous and pressing attention. It -seemed to me that I must recognise two main directions in the forces -at work--two seemingly antagonistic tendencies, equally deleterious in -their action, and ultimately combining to produce their results: a -striving to achieve the greatest possible _expansion_ of education on -the one hand, and a tendency to _minimise and weaken_ it on the -other. The first-named would, for various reasons, spread learning -among the greatest number of people; the second would compel education -to renounce its highest, noblest and sublimest claims in order to -subordinate itself to some other department of life--such as the -service of the State. - -"I believe I have already hinted at the quarter in which the cry for -the greatest possible expansion of education is most loudly raised. -This expansion belongs to the most beloved of the dogmas of modern -political economy. As much knowledge and education as possible; -therefore the greatest possible supply and demand--hence as much -happiness as possible:--that is the formula. In this case utility is -made the object and goal of education,--utility in the sense of -gain--the greatest possible pecuniary gain. In the quarter now under -consideration culture would be defined as that point of vantage which -enables one to 'keep in the van of one's age,' from which one can see -all the easiest and best roads to wealth, and with which one controls -all the means of communication between men and nations. The purpose of -education, according to this scheme, would be to rear the most -'current' men possible,--'current' being used here in the sense in -which it is applied to the coins of the realm. The greater the number -of such men, the happier a nation will be; and this precisely is the -purpose of our modern educational institutions: to help every one, as -far as his nature will allow, to become 'current'; to develop him so -that his particular degree of knowledge and science may yield him the -greatest possible amount of happiness and pecuniary gain. Every one -must be able to form some sort of estimate of himself; he must know -how much he may reasonably expect from life. The 'bond between -intelligence and property' which this point of view postulates has -almost the force of a moral principle. In this quarter all culture is -loathed which isolates, which sets goals beyond gold and gain, and -which requires time: it is customary to dispose of such eccentric -tendencies in education as systems of 'Higher Egotism,' or of 'Immoral -Culture--Epicureanism.' According to the morality reigning here, the -demands are quite different; what is required above all is 'rapid -education,' so that a money-earning creature may be produced with all -speed; there is even a desire to make this education so thorough that -a creature may be reared that will be able to earn a _great deal_ of -money. Men are allowed only the precise amount of culture which is -compatible with the interests of gain; but that amount, at least, is -expected from them. In short: mankind has a necessary right to -happiness on earth--that is why culture is necessary--but on that -account alone!" - -"I must just say something here," said the philosopher. "In the case -of the view you have described so clearly, there arises the great and -awful danger that at some time or other the great masses may overleap -the middle classes and spring headlong into this earthly bliss. That -is what is now called 'the social question.' It might seem to these -masses that education for the greatest number of men was only a means -to the earthly bliss of the few: the 'greatest possible expansion of -education' so enfeebles education that it can no longer confer -privileges or inspire respect. The most general form of culture is -simply barbarism. But I do not wish to interrupt your discussion." - -The companion continued: "There are yet other reasons, besides this -beloved economical dogma, for the expansion of education that is being -striven after so valiantly everywhere. In some countries the fear of -religious oppression is so general, and the dread of its results so -marked, that people in all classes of society long for culture and -eagerly absorb those elements of it which are supposed to scatter the -religious instincts. Elsewhere the State, in its turn, strives here -and there for its own preservation, after the greatest possible -expansion of education, because it always feels strong enough to bring -the most determined emancipation, resulting from culture, under its -yoke, and readily approves of everything which tends to extend -culture, provided that it be of service to its officials or soldiers, -but in the main to itself, in its competition with other nations. In -this case, the foundations of a State must be sufficiently broad and -firm to constitute a fitting counterpart to the complicated arches of -culture which it supports, just as in the first case the traces of -some former religious tyranny must still be felt for a people to be -driven to such desperate remedies. Thus, wherever I hear the masses -raise the cry for an expansion of education, I am wont to ask myself -whether it is stimulated by a greedy lust of gain and property, by -the memory of a former religious persecution, or by the prudent -egotism of the State itself. - -"On the other hand, it seemed to me that there was yet another -tendency, not so clamorous, perhaps, but quite as forcible, which, -hailing from various quarters, was animated by a different -desire,--the desire to minimise and weaken education. - -"In all cultivated circles people are in the habit of whispering to -one another words something after this style: that it is a general -fact that, owing to the present frantic exploitation of the scholar in -the service of his science, his _education_ becomes every day more -accidental and more uncertain. For the study of science has been -extended to such interminable lengths that he who, though not -exceptionally gifted, yet possesses fair abilities, will need to -devote himself exclusively to one branch and ignore all others if he -ever wish to achieve anything in his work. Should he then elevate -himself above the herd by means of his speciality, he still remains -one of them in regard to all else,--that is to say, in regard to all -the most important things in life. Thus, a specialist in science gets -to resemble nothing so much as a factory workman who spends his whole -life in turning one particular screw or handle on a certain instrument -or machine, at which occupation he acquires the most consummate skill. -In Germany, where we know how to drape such painful facts with the -glorious garments of fancy, this narrow specialisation on the part of -our learned men is even admired, and their ever greater deviation -from the path of true culture is regarded as a moral phenomenon. -'Fidelity in small things,' 'dogged faithfulness,' become expressions -of highest eulogy, and the lack of culture outside the speciality is -flaunted abroad as a sign of noble sufficiency. - -"For centuries it has been an understood thing that one alluded to -scholars alone when one spoke of cultured men; but experience tells us -that it would be difficult to find any necessary relation between the -two classes to-day. For at present the exploitation of a man for the -purpose of science is accepted everywhere without the slightest -scruple. Who still ventures to ask, What may be the value of a science -which consumes its minions in this vampire fashion? The division of -labour in science is practically struggling towards the same goal -which religions in certain parts of the world are consciously striving -after,--that is to say, towards the decrease and even the destruction -of learning. That, however, which, in the case of certain religions, -is a perfectly justifiable aim, both in regard to their origin and -their history, can only amount to self-immolation when transferred to -the realm of science. In all matters of a general and serious nature, -and above all, in regard to the highest philosophical problems, we -have now already reached a point at which the scientific man, as such, -is no longer allowed to speak. On the other hand, that adhesive and -tenacious stratum which has now filled up the interstices between the -sciences--Journalism--believes it has a mission to fulfil here, and -this it does, according to its own particular lights--that is to say, -as its name implies, after the fashion of a day-labourer. - -"It is precisely in journalism that the two tendencies combine and -become one. The expansion and the diminution of education here join -hands. The newspaper actually steps into the place of culture, and he -who, even as a scholar, wishes to voice any claim for education, must -avail himself of this viscous stratum of communication which cements -the seams between all forms of life, all classes, all arts, and all -sciences, and which is as firm and reliable as news paper is, as a -rule. In the newspaper the peculiar educational aims of the present -culminate, just as the journalist, the servant of the moment, has -stepped into the place of the genius, of the leader for all time, of -the deliverer from the tyranny of the moment. Now, tell me, -distinguished master, what hopes could I still have in a struggle -against the general topsy-turvification of all genuine aims for -education; with what courage can I, a single teacher, step forward, -when I know that the moment any seeds of real culture are sown, they -will be mercilessly crushed by the roller of this pseudo-culture? -Imagine how useless the most energetic work on the part of the -individual teacher must be, who would fain lead a pupil back into the -distant and evasive Hellenic world and to the real home of culture, -when in less than an hour, that same pupil will have recourse to a -newspaper, the latest novel, or one of those learned books, the very -style of which already bears the revolting impress of modern barbaric -culture----" - -"Now, silence a minute!" interjected the philosopher in a strong and -sympathetic voice. "I understand you now, and ought never to have -spoken so crossly to you. You are altogether right, save in your -despair. I shall now proceed to say a few words of consolation." - - - - -SECOND LECTURE. - -(_Delivered on the 6th of February 1872._) - - -LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,--Those among you whom I now have the pleasure of -addressing for the first time and whose only knowledge of my first -lecture has been derived from reports will, I hope, not mind being -introduced here into the middle of a dialogue which I had begun to -recount on the last occasion, and the last points of which I must now -recall. The philosopher's young companion was just pleading openly and -confidentially with his distinguished tutor, and apologising for -having so far renounced his calling as a teacher in order to spend his -days in comfortless solitude. No suspicion of superciliousness or -arrogance had induced him to form this resolve. - -"I have heard too much from your lips at various times," the -straightforward pupil said, "and have been too long in your company, -to surrender myself blindly to our present systems of education and -instruction. I am too painfully conscious of the disastrous errors and -abuses to which you were wont to call my attention; and yet I know -that I am far from possessing the requisite strength to meet with -success, however valiantly I might struggle to shatter the bulwarks -of this would-be culture. I was overcome by a general feeling of -depression: my recourse to solitude was not arrogance or -superciliousness." Whereupon, to account for his behaviour, he -described the general character of modern educational methods so -vividly that the philosopher could not help interrupting him in a -voice full of sympathy, and crying words of comfort to him. - -"Now, silence for a minute, my poor friend," he cried; "I can more -easily understand you now, and should not have lost my patience with -you. You are altogether right, save in your despair. I shall now -proceed to say a few words of comfort to you. How long do you suppose -the state of education in the schools of our time, which seems to -weigh so heavily upon you, will last? I shall not conceal my views on -this point from you: its time is over; its days are counted. The first -who will dare to be quite straightforward in this respect will hear -his honesty re-echoed back to him by thousands of courageous souls. -For, at bottom, there is a tacit understanding between the more nobly -gifted and more warmly disposed men of the present day. Every one of -them knows what he has had to suffer from the condition of culture in -schools; every one of them would fain protect his offspring from the -need of enduring similar drawbacks, even though he himself was -compelled to submit to them. If these feelings are never quite -honestly expressed, however, it is owing to a sad want of spirit among -modern pedagogues. These lack real initiative; there are too few -practical men among them--that is to say, too few who happen to have -good and new ideas, and who know that real genius and the real -practical mind must necessarily come together in the same individuals, -whilst the sober practical men have no ideas and therefore fall short -in practice. - -"Let any one examine the pedagogic literature of the present; he who -is not shocked at its utter poverty of spirit and its ridiculously -awkward antics is beyond being spoiled. Here our philosophy must not -begin with wonder but with dread; he who feels no dread at this point -must be asked not to meddle with pedagogic questions. The reverse, of -course, has been the rule up to the present; those who were terrified -ran away filled with embarrassment as you did, my poor friend, while -the sober and fearless ones spread their heavy hands over the most -delicate technique that has ever existed in art--over the technique of -education. This, however, will not be possible much longer; at some -time or other the upright man will appear, who will not only have the -good ideas I speak of, but who in order to work at their realisation, -will dare to break with all that exists at present: he may by means of -a wonderful example achieve what the broad hands, hitherto active, -could not even imitate--then people will everywhere begin to draw -comparisons; then men will at least be able to perceive a contrast and -will be in a position to reflect upon its causes, whereas, at present, -so many still believe, in perfect good faith, that heavy hands are a -necessary factor in pedagogic work." - -"My dear master," said the younger man, "I wish you could point to -one single example which would assist me in seeing the soundness of -the hopes which you so heartily raise in me. We are both acquainted -with public schools; do you think, for instance, that in respect of -these institutions anything may be done by means of honesty and good -and new ideas to abolish the tenacious and antiquated customs now -extant? In this quarter, it seems to me, the battering-rams of an -attacking party will have to meet with no solid wall, but with the -most fatal of stolid and slippery principles. The leader of the -assault has no visible and tangible opponent to crush, but rather a -creature in disguise that can transform itself into a hundred -different shapes and, in each of these, slip out of his grasp, only in -order to reappear and to confound its enemy by cowardly surrenders and -feigned retreats. It was precisely the public schools which drove me -into despair and solitude, simply because I feel that if the struggle -here leads to victory all other educational institutions must give in; -but that, if the reformer be forced to abandon his cause here, he may -as well give up all hope in regard to every other scholastic question. -Therefore, dear master, enlighten me concerning the public schools; -what can we hope for in the way of their abolition or reform?" - -"I also hold the question of public schools to be as important as you -do," the philosopher replied. "All other educational institutions must -fix their aims in accordance with those of the public school system; -whatever errors of judgment it may suffer from, they suffer from also, -and if it were ever purified and rejuvenated, they would be purified -and rejuvenated too. The universities can no longer lay claim to this -importance as centres of influence, seeing that, as they now stand, -they are at least, in one important aspect, only a kind of annex to -the public school system, as I shall shortly point out to you. For the -moment, let us consider, together, what to my mind constitutes the -very hopeful struggle of the two possibilities: _either_ that the -motley and evasive spirit of public schools which has hitherto been -fostered, will completely vanish, or that it will have to be -completely purified and rejuvenated. And in order that I may not shock -you with general propositions, let us first try to recall one of those -public school experiences which we have all had, and from which we -have all suffered. Under severe examination what, as a matter of fact, -is the present _system of teaching German_ in public schools? - -"I shall first of all tell you what it should be. Everybody speaks and -writes German as thoroughly badly as it is just possible to do so in -an age of newspaper German: that is why the growing youth who happens -to be both noble and gifted has to be taken by force and put under the -glass shade of good taste and of severe linguistic discipline. If this -is not possible, I would prefer in future that Latin be spoken; for I -am ashamed of a language so bungled and vitiated. - -"What would be the duty of a higher educational institution, in this -respect, if not this--namely, with authority and dignified severity to -put youths, neglected, as far as their own language is concerned, on -the right path, and to cry to them: 'Take your own language seriously! -He who does not regard this matter as a sacred duty does not possess -even the germ of a higher culture. From your attitude in this matter, -from your treatment of your mother-tongue, we can judge how highly or -how lowly you esteem art, and to what extent you are related to it. If -you notice no physical loathing in yourselves when you meet with -certain words and tricks of speech in our journalistic jargon, cease -from striving after culture; for here in your immediate vicinity, at -every moment of your life, while you are either speaking or writing, -you have a touchstone for testing how difficult, how stupendous, the -task of the cultured man is, and how very improbable it must be that -many of you will ever attain to culture.' - -"In accordance with the spirit of this address, the teacher of German -at a public school would be forced to call his pupil's attention to -thousands of details, and with the absolute certainty of good taste, -to forbid their using such words and expressions, for instance, as: -'_beanspruchen_,' '_vereinnahmen_,' '_einer Sache Rechnung tragen_,' -'_die Initiative ergreifen_,' '_selbstverständlich_,'[3] etc., _cum -tædio in infinitum_. The same teacher would also have to take our -classical authors and show, line for line, how carefully and with what -precision every expression has to be chosen when a writer has the -correct feeling in his heart and has before his eyes a perfect -conception of all he is writing. He would necessarily urge his pupils, -time and again, to express the same thought ever more happily; nor -would he have to abate in rigour until the less gifted in his class -had contracted an unholy fear of their language, and the others had -developed great enthusiasm for it. - -"Here then is a task for so-called 'formal' education[4] [the -education tending to develop the mental faculties, as opposed to -'material' education,[5] which is intended to deal only with the -acquisition of facts, _e.g._ history, mathematics, etc.], and one of -the utmost value: but what do we find in the public school--that is to -say, in the head-quarters of formal education? He who understands how -to apply what he has heard here will also know what to think of the -modern public school as a so-called educational institution. He will -discover, for instance, that the public school, according to its -fundamental principles, does not educate for the purposes of culture, -but for the purposes of scholarship; and, further, that of late it -seems to have adopted a course which indicates rather that it has even -discarded scholarship in favour of journalism as the object of its -exertions. This can be clearly seen from the way in which German is -taught. - -"Instead of that purely practical method of instruction by which the -teacher accustoms his pupils to severe self-discipline in their own -language, we find everywhere the rudiments of a historico-scholastic -method of teaching the mother-tongue: that is to say, people deal with -it as if it were a dead language and as if the present and future were -under no obligations to it whatsoever. The historical method has -become so universal in our time, that even the living body of the -language is sacrificed for the sake of anatomical study. But this is -precisely where culture begins--namely, in understanding how to treat -the quick as something vital, and it is here too that the mission of -the cultured teacher begins: in suppressing the urgent claims of -'historical interests' wherever it is above all necessary to _do_ -properly and not merely to _know_ properly. Our mother-tongue, -however, is a domain in which the pupil must learn how to _do_ -properly, and to this practical end, alone, the teaching of German is -essential in our scholastic establishments. The historical method may -certainly be a considerably easier and more comfortable one for the -teacher; it also seems to be compatible with a much lower grade of -ability and, in general, with a smaller display of energy and will on -his part. But we shall find that this observation holds good in every -department of pedagogic life: the simpler and more comfortable method -always masquerades in the disguise of grand pretensions and stately -titles; the really practical side, the _doing_, which should belong to -culture and which, at bottom, is the more difficult side, meets only -with disfavour and contempt. That is why the honest man must make -himself and others quite clear concerning this _quid pro quo_. - -"Now, apart from these learned incentives to a study of the language, -what is there besides which the German teacher is wont to offer? How -does he reconcile the spirit of his school with the spirit of the -_few_ that Germany can claim who are really cultured,--_i.e._ with the -spirit of its classical poets and artists? This is a dark and thorny -sphere, into which one cannot even bear a light without dread; but -even here we shall conceal nothing from ourselves; for sooner or later -the whole of it will have to be reformed. In the public school, the -repulsive impress of our æsthetic journalism is stamped upon the still -unformed minds of youths. Here, too, the teacher sows the seeds of -that crude and wilful misinterpretation of the classics, which later -on disports itself as art-criticism, and which is nothing but -bumptious barbarity. Here the pupils learn to speak of our unique -_Schiller_ with the superciliousness of prigs; here they are taught to -smile at the noblest and most German of his works--at the Marquis of -Posa, at Max and Thekla--at these smiles German genius becomes -incensed and a worthier posterity will blush. - -"The last department in which the German teacher in a public school is -at all active, which is often regarded as his sphere of highest -activity, and is here and there even considered the pinnacle of public -school education, is the so-called _German composition_. Owing to the -very fact that in this department it is almost always the most gifted -pupils who display the greatest eagerness, it ought to have been made -clear how dangerously stimulating, precisely here, the task of the -teacher must be. _German composition_ makes an appeal to the -individual, and the more strongly a pupil is conscious of his various -qualities, the more personally will he do his _German composition_. -This 'personal doing' is urged on with yet an additional fillip in -some public schools by the choice of the subject, the strongest proof -of which is, in my opinion, that even in the lower classes the -non-pedagogic subject is set, by means of which the pupil is led to -give a description of his life and of his development. Now, one has -only to read the titles of the compositions set in a large number of -public schools to be convinced that probably the large majority of -pupils have to suffer their whole lives, through no fault of their -own, owing to this premature demand for personal work--for the unripe -procreation of thoughts. And how often are not all a man's subsequent -literary performances but a sad result of this pedagogic original sin -against the intellect! - -"Let us only think of what takes place at such an age in the -production of such work. It is the first individual creation; the -still undeveloped powers tend for the first time to crystallise; the -staggering sensation produced by the demand for self-reliance imparts -a seductive charm to these early performances, which is not only quite -new, but which never returns. All the daring of nature is hauled out -of its depths; all vanities--no longer constrained by mighty -barriers--are allowed for the first time to assume a literary form: -the young man, from that time forward, feels as if he had reached his -consummation as a being not only able, but actually invited, to speak -and to converse. The subject he selects obliges him either to express -his judgment upon certain poetical works, to class historical persons -together in a description of character, to discuss serious ethical -problems quite independently, or even to turn the searchlight inwards, -to throw its rays upon his own development and to make a critical -report of himself: in short, a whole world of reflection is spread out -before the astonished young man who, until then, had been almost -unconscious, and is delivered up to him to be judged. - -"Now let us try to picture the teacher's usual attitude towards these -first highly influential examples of original composition. What does -he hold to be most reprehensible in this class of work? What does he -call his pupil's attention to?--To all excess in form or thought--that -is to say, to all that which, at their age, is essentially -characteristic and individual. Their really independent traits which, -in response to this very premature excitation, can manifest themselves -only in awkwardness, crudeness, and grotesque features,--in short, -their individuality is reproved and rejected by the teacher in favour -of an unoriginal decent average. On the other hand, uniform mediocrity -gets peevish praise; for, as a rule, it is just the class of work -likely to bore the teacher thoroughly. - -"There may still be men who recognise a most absurd and most dangerous -element of the public school curriculum in the whole farce of this -German composition. Originality is demanded here: but the only shape -in which it can manifest itself is rejected, and the 'formal' -education that the system takes for granted is attained to only by a -very limited number of men who complete it at a ripe age. Here -everybody without exception is regarded as gifted for literature and -considered as capable of holding opinions concerning the most -important questions and people, whereas the one aim which proper -education should most zealously strive to achieve would be the -suppression of all ridiculous claims to independent judgment, and the -inculcation upon young men of obedience to the sceptre of genius. Here -a pompous form of diction is taught in an age when every spoken or -written word is a piece of barbarism. Now let us consider, besides, -the danger of arousing the self-complacency which is so easily -awakened in youths; let us think how their vanity must be flattered -when they see their literary reflection for the first time in the -mirror. Who, having seen all these effects at _one_ glance, could any -longer doubt whether all the faults of our public, literary, and -artistic life were not stamped upon every fresh generation by the -system we are examining: hasty and vain production, the disgraceful -manufacture of books; complete want of style; the crude, -characterless, or sadly swaggering method of expression; the loss of -every æsthetic canon; the voluptuousness of anarchy and chaos--in -short, the literary peculiarities of both our journalism and our -scholarship. - -"None but the very fewest are aware that, among many thousands, -perhaps only _one_ is justified in describing himself as literary, and -that all others who at their own risk try to be so deserve to be met -with Homeric laughter by all competent men as a reward for every -sentence they have ever had printed;--for it is truly a spectacle meet -for the gods to see a literary Hephaistos limping forward who would -pretend to help us to something. To educate men to earnest and -inexorable habits and views, in this respect, should be the highest -aim of all mental training, whereas the general _laisser aller_ of the -'fine personality' can be nothing else than the hall-mark of -barbarism. From what I have said, however, it must be clear that, at -least in the teaching of German, no thought is given to culture; -something quite different is in view,--namely, the production of the -afore-mentioned 'free personality.' And so long as German public -schools prepare the road for outrageous and irresponsible scribbling, -so long as they do not regard the immediate and practical discipline -of speaking and writing as their most holy duty, so long as they treat -the mother-tongue as if it were only a necessary evil or a dead body, -I shall not regard these institutions as belonging to real culture. - -"In regard to the language, what is surely least noticeable is any -trace of the influence of _classical examples_: that is why, on the -strength of this consideration alone, the so-called 'classical -education' which is supposed to be provided by our public school, -strikes me as something exceedingly doubtful and confused. For how -could anybody, after having cast one glance at those examples, fail to -see the great earnestness with which the Greek and the Roman regarded -and treated his language, from his youth onwards--how is it possible -to mistake one's example on a point like this one?--provided, of -course, that the classical Hellenic and Roman world really did hover -before the educational plan of our public schools as the highest and -most instructive of all morals--a fact I feel very much inclined to -doubt. The claim put forward by public schools concerning the -'classical education' they provide seems to be more an awkward evasion -than anything else; it is used whenever there is any question raised -as to the competency of the public schools to impart culture and to -educate. Classical education, indeed! It sounds so dignified! It -confounds the aggressor and staves off the assault--for who could see -to the bottom of this bewildering formula all at once? And this has -long been the customary strategy of the public school: from whichever -side the war-cry may come, it writes upon its shield--not overloaded -with honours--one of those confusing catchwords, such as: 'classical -education,' 'formal education,' 'scientific education':--three -glorious things which are, however, unhappily at loggerheads, not only -with themselves but among themselves, and are such that, if they were -compulsorily brought together, would perforce bring forth a -culture-monster. For a 'classical education' is something so unheard -of, difficult and rare, and exacts such complicated talent, that only -ingenuousness or impudence could put it forward as an attainable goal -in our public schools. The words: 'formal education' belong to that -crude kind of unphilosophical phraseology which one should do one's -utmost to get rid of; for there is no such thing as 'the opposite of -formal education.' And he who regards 'scientific education' as the -object of a public school thereby sacrifices 'classical education' and -the so-called 'formal education,' at one stroke, as the scientific man -and the cultured man belong to two different spheres which, though -coming together at times in the same individual, are never reconciled. - -"If we compare all three of these would-be aims of the public school -with the actual facts to be observed in the present method of teaching -German, we see immediately what they really amount to in -practice,--that is to say, only to subterfuges for use in the fight -and struggle for existence and, often enough, mere means wherewith to -bewilder an opponent. For we are unable to detect any single feature -in this teaching of German which in any way recalls the example of -classical antiquity and its glorious methods of training in languages. -'Formal education,' however, which is supposed to be achieved by this -method of teaching German, has been shown to be wholly at the pleasure -of the 'free personality,' which is as good as saying that it is -barbarism and anarchy. And as for the preparation in science, which is -one of the consequences of this teaching, our Germanists will have to -determine, in all justice, how little these learned beginnings in -public schools have contributed to the splendour of their sciences, -and how much the personality of individual university professors has -done so.--Put briefly: the public school has hitherto neglected its -most important and most urgent duty towards the very beginning of all -real culture, which is the mother-tongue; but in so doing it has -lacked the natural, fertile soil for all further efforts at culture. -For only by means of stern, artistic, and careful discipline and -habit, in a language, can the correct feeling for the greatness of our -classical writers be strengthened. Up to the present their recognition -by the public schools has been owing almost solely to the doubtful -æsthetic hobbies of a few teachers or to the massive effects of -certain of their tragedies and novels. But everybody should, himself, -be aware of the difficulties of the language: he should have learnt -them from experience: after long seeking and struggling he must reach -the path our great poets trod in order to be able to realise how -lightly and beautifully they trod it, and how stiffly and swaggeringly -the others follow at their heels. - -"Only by means of such discipline can the young man acquire that -physical loathing for the beloved and much-admired 'elegance' of style -of our newspaper manufacturers and novelists, and for the 'ornate -style' of our literary men; by it alone is he irrevocably elevated at -a stroke above a whole host of absurd questions and scruples, such, -for instance, as whether Auerbach and Gutzkow are really poets, for -his disgust at both will be so great that he will be unable to read -them any longer, and thus the problem will be solved for him. Let no -one imagine that it is an easy matter to develop this feeling to the -extent necessary in order to have this physical loathing; but let no -one hope to reach sound æsthetic judgments along any other road than -the thorny one of language, and by this I do not mean philological -research, but self-discipline in one's mother-tongue. - -"Everybody who is in earnest in this matter will have the same sort of -experience as the recruit in the army who is compelled to learn -walking after having walked almost all his life as a dilettante or -empiricist. It is a hard time: one almost fears that the tendons are -going to snap and one ceases to hope that the artificial and -consciously acquired movements and positions of the feet will ever be -carried out with ease and comfort. It is painful to see how awkwardly -and heavily one foot is set before the other, and one dreads that one -may not only be unable to learn the new way of walking, but that one -will forget how to walk at all. Then it suddenly become noticeable -that a new habit and a second nature have been born of the practised -movements, and that the assurance and strength of the old manner of -walking returns with a little more grace: at this point one begins to -realise how difficult walking is, and one feels in a position to laugh -at the untrained empiricist or the elegant dilettante. Our 'elegant' -writers, as their style shows, have never learnt 'walking' in this -sense, and in our public schools, as our other writers show, no one -learns walking either. Culture begins, however, with the correct -movement of the language: and once it has properly begun, it begets -that physical sensation in the presence of 'elegant' writers which is -known by the name of 'loathing.' - -"We recognise the fatal consequences of our present public schools, in -that they are unable to inculcate severe and genuine culture, which -should consist above all in obedience and habituation; and that, at -their best, they much more often achieve a result by stimulating and -kindling scientific tendencies, is shown by the hand which is so -frequently seen uniting scholarship and barbarous taste, science and -journalism. In a very large majority of cases to-day we can observe -how sadly our scholars fall short of the standard of culture which the -efforts of Goethe, Schiller, Lessing, and Winckelmann established; and -this falling short shows itself precisely in the egregious errors -which the men we speak of are exposed to, equally among literary -historians--whether Gervinus or Julian Schmidt--as in any other -company; everywhere, indeed, where men and women converse. It shows -itself most frequently and painfully, however, in pedagogic spheres, -in the literature of public schools. It can be proved that the only -value that these men have in a real educational establishment has not -been mentioned, much less generally recognised for half a century: -their value as preparatory leaders and mystogogues of classical -culture, guided by whose hands alone can the correct road leading to -antiquity be found. - -"Every so-called classical education can have but one natural -starting-point--an artistic, earnest, and exact familiarity with the -use of the mother-tongue: this, together with the secret of form, -however, one can seldom attain to of one's own accord, almost -everybody requires those great leaders and tutors and must place -himself in their hands. There is, however, no such thing as a -classical education that could grow without this inferred love of -form. Here, where the power of discerning form and barbarity gradually -awakens, there appear the pinions which bear one to the only real home -of culture--ancient Greece. If with the solitary help of those pinions -we sought to reach those far-distant and diamond-studded walls -encircling the stronghold of Hellenism, we should certainly not get -very far; once more, therefore, we need the same leaders and tutors, -our German classical writers, that we may be borne up, too, by the -wing-strokes of their past endeavours--to the land of yearning, to -Greece. - -"Not a suspicion of this possible relationship between our classics -and classical education seems to have pierced the antique walls of -public schools. Philologists seem much more eagerly engaged in -introducing Homer and Sophocles to the young souls of their pupils, in -their own style, calling the result simply by the unchallenged -euphemism: 'classical education.' Let every one's own experience tell -him what he had of Homer and Sophocles at the hands of such eager -teachers. It is in this department that the greatest number of deepest -deceptions occur, and whence misunderstandings are inadvertently -spread. In German public schools I have never yet found a trace of -what might really be called 'classical education,' and there is -nothing surprising in this when one thinks of the way in which these -institutions have emancipated themselves from German classical writers -and the discipline of the German language. Nobody reaches antiquity by -means of a leap into the dark, and yet the whole method of treating -ancient writers in schools, the plain commentating and paraphrasing of -our philological teachers, amounts to nothing more than a leap into -the dark. - -"The feeling for classical Hellenism is, as a matter of fact, such an -exceptional outcome of the most energetic fight for culture and -artistic talent that the public school could only have professed to -awaken this feeling owing to a very crude misunderstanding. In what -age? In an age which is led about blindly by the most sensational -desires of the day, and which is not aware of the fact that, once that -feeling for Hellenism is roused, it immediately becomes aggressive and -must express itself by indulging in an incessant war with the -so-called culture of the present. For the public school boy of to-day, -the Hellenes as Hellenes are dead: yes, he gets some enjoyment out of -Homer, but a novel by Spielhagen interests him much more: yes, he -swallows Greek tragedy and comedy with a certain relish, but a -thoroughly modern drama, like Freitag's 'Journalists,' moves him in -quite another fashion. In regard to all ancient authors he is rather -inclined to speak after the manner of the æsthete, Hermann Grimm, who, -on one occasion, at the end of a tortuous essay on the Venus of Milo, -asks himself: 'What does this goddess's form mean to me? Of what use -are the thoughts she suggests to me? Orestes and OEdipus, Iphigenia -and Antigone, what have they in common with my heart?'--No, my dear -public school boy, the Venus of Milo does not concern you in any way, -and concerns your teacher just as little--and that is the misfortune, -that is the secret of the modern public school. Who will conduct you -to the land of culture, if your leaders are blind and assume the -position of seers notwithstanding? Which of you will ever attain to a -true feeling for the sacred seriousness of art, if you are -systematically spoiled, and taught to stutter independently instead of -being taught to speak; to æstheticise on your own account, when you -ought to be taught to approach works of art almost piously; to -philosophise without assistance, while you ought to be compelled to -_listen_ to great thinkers. All this with the result that you remain -eternally at a distance from antiquity and become the servants of the -day. - -"At all events, the most wholesome feature of our modern institutions -is to be found in the earnestness with which the Latin and Greek -languages are studied over a long course of years. In this way boys -learn to respect a grammar, lexicons, and a language that conforms to -fixed rules; in this department of public school work there is an -exact knowledge of what constitutes a fault, and no one is troubled -with any thought of justifying himself every minute by appealing (as -in the case of modern German) to various grammatical and -orthographical vagaries and vicious forms. If only this respect for -language did not hang in the air so, like a theoretical burden which -one is pleased to throw off the moment one turns to one's -mother-tongue! More often than not, the classical master makes pretty -short work of the mother-tongue; from the outset he treats it as a -department of knowledge in which one is allowed that indolent ease -with which the German treats everything that belongs to his native -soil. The splendid practice afforded by translating from one language -into another, which so improves and fertilises one's artistic feeling -for one's own tongue, is, in the case of German, never conducted with -that fitting categorical strictness and dignity which would be above -all necessary in dealing with an undisciplined language. Of late, -exercises of this kind have tended to decrease ever more and more: -people are satisfied to _know_ the foreign classical tongues, they -would scorn being able to _apply_ them. - -"Here one gets another glimpse of the scholarly tendency of public -schools: a phenomenon which throws much light upon the object which -once animated them,--that is to say, the serious desire to cultivate -the pupil. This belonged to the time of our great poets, those few -really cultured Germans,--the time when the magnificent Friedrich -August Wolf directed the new stream of classical thought, introduced -from Greece and Rome by those men, into the heart of the public -schools. Thanks to his bold start, a new order of public schools was -established, which thenceforward was not to be merely a nursery for -science, but, above all, the actual consecrated home of all higher and -nobler culture. - -"Of the many necessary measures which this change called into being, -some of the most important have been transferred with lasting success -to the modern regulations of public schools: the most important of -all, however, did not succeed--the one demanding that the teacher, -also, should be consecrated to the new spirit, so that the aim of the -public school has meanwhile considerably departed from the original -plan laid down by Wolf, which was the cultivation of the pupil. The -old estimate of scholarship and scholarly culture, as an absolute, -which Wolf overcame, seems after a slow and spiritless struggle rather -to have taken the place of the culture-principle of more recent -introduction, and now claims its former exclusive rights, though not -with the same frankness, but disguised and with features veiled. And -the reason why it was impossible to make public schools fall in with -the magnificent plan of classical culture lay in the un-German, almost -foreign or cosmopolitan nature of these efforts in the cause of -education: in the belief that it was possible to remove the native -soil from under a man's feet and that he should still remain standing; -in the illusion that people can spring direct, without bridges, into -the strange Hellenic world, by abjuring German and the German mind in -general. - -"Of course one must know how to trace this Germanic spirit to its lair -beneath its many modern dressings, or even beneath heaps of ruins; one -must love it so that one is not ashamed of it in its stunted form, and -one must above all be on one's guard against confounding it with what -now disports itself proudly as 'Up-to-date German culture.' The German -spirit is very far from being on friendly times with this up-to-date -culture: and precisely in those spheres where the latter complains of -a lack of culture the real German spirit has survived, though perhaps -not always with a graceful, but more often an ungraceful, exterior. On -the other hand, that which now grandiloquently assumes the title of -'German culture' is a sort of cosmopolitan aggregate, which bears the -same relation to the German spirit as Journalism does to Schiller or -Meyerbeer to Beethoven: here the strongest influence at work is the -fundamentally and thoroughly un-German civilisation of France, which -is aped neither with talent nor with taste, and the imitation of which -gives the society, the press, the art, and the literary style of -Germany their pharisaical character. Naturally the copy nowhere -produces the really artistic effect which the original, grown out of -the heart of Roman civilisation, is able to produce almost to this day -in France. Let any one who wishes to see the full force of this -contrast compare our most noted novelists with the less noted ones of -France or Italy: he will recognise in both the same doubtful -tendencies and aims, as also the same still more doubtful means, but -in France he will find them coupled with artistic earnestness, at -least with grammatical purity, and often with beauty, while in their -every feature he will recognise the echo of a corresponding social -culture. In Germany, on the other hand, they will strike him as -unoriginal, flabby, filled with dressing-gown thoughts and -expressions, unpleasantly spread out, and therewithal possessing no -background of social form. At the most, owing to their scholarly -mannerisms and display of knowledge, he will be reminded of the fact -that in Latin countries it is the artistically-trained man, and that -in Germany it is the abortive scholar, who becomes a journalist. With -this would-be German and thoroughly unoriginal culture, the German can -nowhere reckon upon victory: the Frenchman and the Italian will always -get the better of him in this respect, while, in regard to the clever -imitation of a foreign culture, the Russian, above all, will always be -his superior. - -"We are therefore all the more anxious to hold fast to that German -spirit which revealed itself in the German Reformation, and in German -music, and which has shown its enduring and genuine strength in the -enormous courage and severity of German philosophy and in the loyalty -of the German soldier, which has been tested quite recently. From it -we expect a victory over that 'up-to-date' pseudo-culture which is now -the fashion. What we should hope for the future is that schools may -draw the real school of culture into this struggle, and kindle the -flame of enthusiasm in the younger generation, more particularly in -public schools, for that which is truly German; and in this way -so-called classical education will resume its natural place and -recover its one possible starting-point. - -"A thorough reformation and purification of the public school can only -be the outcome of a profound and powerful reformation and purification -of the German spirit. It is a very complex and difficult task to find -the border-line which joins the heart of the Germanic spirit with the -genius of Greece. Not, however, before the noblest needs of genuine -German genius snatch at the hand of this genius of Greece as at a firm -post in the torrent of barbarity, not before a devouring yearning for -this genius of Greece takes possession of German genius, and not -before that view of the Greek home, on which Schiller and Goethe, -after enormous exertions, were able to feast their eyes, has become -the Mecca of the best and most gifted men, will the aim of classical -education in public schools acquire any definition; and they at least -will not be to blame who teach ever so little science and learning in -public schools, in order to keep a definite and at the same time ideal -aim in their eyes, and to rescue their pupils from that glistening -phantom which now allows itself to be called 'culture' and -'education.' This is the sad plight of the public school of to-day: -the narrowest views remain in a certain measure right, because no one -seems able to reach or, at least, to indicate the spot where all these -views culminate in error." - -"No one?" the philosopher's pupil inquired with a slight quaver in his -voice; and both men were silent. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[3] It is not practicable to translate these German solecisms by -similar instances of English solecisms. The reader who is interested -in the subject will find plenty of material in a book like the Oxford -_King's English_. - -[4] German: _Formelle Bildung._ - -[5] German: _Materielle Bildung._ - - - - -THIRD LECTURE. - -(_Delivered on the 27th of February 1872._) - - -Ladies and Gentlemen,--At the close of my last lecture, the -conversation to which I was a listener, and the outlines of which, as -I clearly recollect them, I am now trying to lay before you, was -interrupted by a long and solemn pause. Both the philosopher and his -companion sat silent, sunk in deep dejection: the peculiarly critical -state of that important educational institution, the German public -school, lay upon their souls like a heavy burden, which one single, -well-meaning individual is not strong enough to remove, and the -multitude, though strong, not well meaning enough. - -Our solitary thinkers were perturbed by two facts: by clearly -perceiving on the one hand that what might rightly be called -"classical education" was now only a far-off ideal, a castle in the -air, which could not possibly be built as a reality on the foundations -of our present educational system, and that, on the other hand, what -was now, with customary and unopposed euphemism, pointed to as -"classical education" could only claim the value of a pretentious -illusion, the best effect of which was that the expression "classical -education" still lived on and had not yet lost its pathetic sound. -These two worthy men saw clearly, by the system of instruction in -vogue, that the time was not yet ripe for a higher culture, a culture -founded upon that of the ancients: the neglected state of linguistic -instruction; the forcing of students into learned historical paths, -instead of giving them a practical training; the connection of certain -practices, encouraged in the public schools, with the objectionable -spirit of our journalistic publicity--all these easily perceptible -phenomena of the teaching of German led to the painful certainty that -the most beneficial of those forces which have come down to us from -classical antiquity are not yet known in our public schools: forces -which would train students for the struggle against the barbarism of -the present age, and which will perhaps once more transform the public -schools into the arsenals and workshops of this struggle. - -On the other hand, it would seem in the meantime as if the spirit of -antiquity, in its fundamental principles, had already been driven away -from the portals of the public schools, and as if here also the gates -were thrown open as widely as possible to the be-flattered and -pampered type of our present self-styled "German culture." And if the -solitary talkers caught a glimpse of a single ray of hope, it was that -things would have to become still worse, that what was as yet divined -only by the few would soon be clearly perceived by the many, and that -then the time for honest and resolute men for the earnest -consideration of the scope of the education of the masses would not be -far distant. - -After a few minutes' silent reflection, the philosopher's companion -turned to him and said: "You used to hold out hopes to me, but now you -have done more: you have widened my intelligence, and with it my -strength and courage: now indeed can I look on the field of battle -with more hardihood, now indeed do I repent of my too hasty flight. We -want nothing for ourselves, and it should be nothing to us how many -individuals may fall in this battle, or whether we ourselves may be -among the first. Just because we take this matter so seriously, we -should not take our own poor selves so seriously: at the very moment -we are falling some one else will grasp the banner of our faith. I -will not even consider whether I am strong enough for such a fight, -whether I can offer sufficient resistance; it may even be an -honourable death to fall to the accompaniment of the mocking laughter -of such enemies, whose seriousness has frequently seemed to us to be -something ridiculous. When I think how my contemporaries prepared -themselves for the highest posts in the scholastic profession, as I -myself have done, then I know how we often laughed at the exact -contrary, and grew serious over something quite different----" - -"Now, my friend," interrupted the philosopher, laughingly, "you speak -as one who would fain dive into the water without being able to swim, -and who fears something even more than the mere drowning; _not_ being -drowned, but laughed at. But being laughed at should be the very last -thing for us to dread; for we are in a sphere where there are too many -truths to tell, too many formidable, painful, unpardonable truths, for -us to escape hatred, and only fury here and there will give rise to -some sort of embarrassed laughter. Just think of the innumerable crowd -of teachers, who, in all good faith, have assimilated the system of -education which has prevailed up to the present, that they may -cheerfully and without over-much deliberation carry it further on. -What do you think it will seem like to these men when they hear of -projects from which they are excluded _beneficio naturæ_; of commands -which their mediocre abilities are totally unable to carry out; of -hopes which find no echo in them; of battles the war-cries of which -they do not understand, and in the fighting of which they can take -part only as dull and obtuse rank and file? But, without exaggeration, -that must necessarily be the position of practically all the teachers -in our higher educational establishments: and indeed we cannot wonder -at this when we consider how such a teacher originates, how he -_becomes_ a teacher of such high status. Such a large number of higher -educational establishments are now to be found everywhere that far -more teachers will continue to be required for them than the nature of -even a highly-gifted people can produce; and thus an inordinate stream -of undesirables flows into these institutions, who, however, by their -preponderating numbers and their instinct of 'similis simile gaudet' -gradually come to determine the nature of these institutions. There -may be a few people, hopelessly unfamiliar with pedagogical matters, -who believe that our present profusion of public schools and teachers, -which is manifestly out of all proportion, can be changed into a real -profusion, an _ubertas ingenii_, merely by a few rules and -regulations, and without any reduction in the number of these -institutions. But we may surely be unanimous in recognising that by -the very nature of things only an exceedingly small number of people -are destined for a true course of education, and that a much smaller -number of higher educational establishments would suffice for their -further development, but that, in view of the present large numbers of -educational institutions, those for whom in general such institutions -ought only to be established must feel themselves to be the least -facilitated in their progress. - -"The same holds good in regard to teachers. It is precisely the best -teachers--those who, generally speaking, judged by a high standard, -are worthy of this honourable name--who are now perhaps the least -fitted, in view of the present standing of our public schools, for the -education of these unselected youths, huddled together in a confused -heap; but who must rather, to a certain extent, keep hidden from them -the best they could give: and, on the other hand, by far the larger -number of these teachers feel themselves quite at home in these -institutions, as their moderate abilities stand in a kind of -harmonious relationship to the dullness of their pupils. It is from -this majority that we hear the ever-resounding call for the -establishment of new public schools and higher educational -institutions: we are living in an age which, by ringing the changes on -its deafening and continual cry, would certainly give one the -impression that there was an unprecedented thirst for culture which -eagerly sought to be quenched. But it is just at this point that one -should learn to hear aright: it is here, without being disconcerted by -the thundering noise of the education-mongers, that we must confront -those who talk so tirelessly about the educational necessities of -their time. Then we should meet with a strange disillusionment, one -which we, my good friend, have often met with: those blatant heralds -of educational needs, when examined at close quarters, are suddenly -seen to be transformed into zealous, yea, fanatical opponents of true -culture, _i.e._ all those who hold fast to the aristocratic nature of -the mind; for, at bottom, they regard as their goal the emancipation -of the masses from the mastery of the great few; they seek to -overthrow the most sacred hierarchy in the kingdom of the -intellect--the servitude of the masses, their submissive obedience, -their instinct of loyalty to the rule of genius. - -"I have long accustomed myself to look with caution upon those who are -ardent in the cause of the so-called 'education of the people' in the -common meaning of the phrase; since for the most part they desire for -themselves, consciously or unconsciously, absolutely unlimited -freedom, which must inevitably degenerate into something resembling -the saturnalia of barbaric times, and which the sacred hierarchy of -nature will never grant them. They were born to serve and to obey; and -every moment in which their limping or crawling or broken-winded -thoughts are at work shows us clearly out of which clay nature moulded -them, and what trade mark she branded thereon. The education of the -masses cannot, therefore, be our aim; but rather the education of a -few picked men for great and lasting works. We well know that a just -posterity judges the collective intellectual state of a time only by -those few great and lonely figures of the period, and gives its -decision in accordance with the manner in which they are recognised, -encouraged, and honoured, or, on the other hand, in which they are -snubbed, elbowed aside, and kept down. What is called the 'education -of the masses' cannot be accomplished except with difficulty; and even -if a system of universal compulsory education be applied, they can -only be reached outwardly: those individual lower levels where, -generally speaking, the masses come into contact with culture, where -the people nourishes its religious instinct, where it poetises its -mythological images, where it keeps up its faith in its customs, -privileges, native soil, and language--all these levels can scarcely -be reached by direct means, and in any case only by violent -demolition. And, in serious matters of this kind, to hasten forward -the progress of the education of the people means simply the -postponement of this violent demolition, and the maintenance of that -wholesome unconsciousness, that sound sleep, of the people, without -which counter-action and remedy no culture, with the exhausting strain -and excitement of its own actions, can make any headway. - -"We know, however, what the aspiration is of those who would disturb -the healthy slumber of the people, and continually call out to them: -'Keep your eyes open! Be sensible! Be wise!' we know the aim of those -who profess to satisfy excessive educational requirements by means of -an extraordinary increase in the number of educational institutions -and the conceited tribe of teachers originated thereby. These very -people, using these very means, are fighting against the natural -hierarchy in the realm of the intellect, and destroying the roots of -all those noble and sublime plastic forces which have their material -origin in the unconsciousness of the people, and which fittingly -terminate in the procreation of genius and its due guidance and proper -training. It is only in the simile of the mother that we can grasp the -meaning and the responsibility of the true education of the people in -respect to genius: its real origin is not to be found in such -education; it has, so to speak, only a metaphysical source, a -metaphysical home. But for the genius to make his appearance; for him -to emerge from among the people; to portray the reflected picture, as -it were, the dazzling brilliancy of the peculiar colours of this -people; to depict the noble destiny of a people in the similitude of -an individual in a work which will last for all time, thereby making -his nation itself eternal, and redeeming it from the ever-shifting -element of transient things: all this is possible for the genius only -when he has been brought up and come to maturity in the tender care of -the culture of a people; whilst, on the other hand, without this -sheltering home, the genius will not, generally speaking, be able to -rise to the height of his eternal flight, but will at an early moment, -like a stranger weather-driven upon a bleak, snow-covered desert, -slink away from the inhospitable land." - -"You astonish me with such a metaphysics of genius," said the -teacher's companion, "and I have only a hazy conception of the -accuracy of your similitude. On the other hand, I fully understand -what you have said about the surplus of public schools and the -corresponding surplus of higher grade teachers; and in this regard I -myself have collected some information which assures me that the -educational tendency of the public school _must_ right itself by this -very surplus of teachers who have really nothing at all to do with -education, and who are called into existence and pursue this path -solely because there is a demand for them. Every man who, in an -unexpected moment of enlightenment, has convinced himself of the -singularity and inaccessibility of Hellenic antiquity, and has warded -off this conviction after an exhausting struggle--every such man knows -that the door leading to this enlightenment will never remain open to -all comers; and he deems it absurd, yea disgraceful, to use the Greeks -as he would any other tool he employs when following his profession or -earning his living, shamelessly fumbling with coarse hands amidst the -relics of these holy men. This brazen and vulgar feeling is, however, -most common in the profession from which the largest numbers of -teachers for the public schools are drawn, the philological -profession, wherefore the reproduction and continuation of such a -feeling in the public school will not surprise us. - -"Just look at the younger generation of philologists: how seldom we -see in them that humble feeling that we, when compared with such a -world as it was, have no right to exist at all: how coolly and -fearlessly, as compared with us, did that young brood build its -miserable nests in the midst of the magnificent temples! A powerful -voice from every nook and cranny should ring in the ears of those who, -from the day they begin their connection with the university, roam at -will with such self-complacency and shamelessness among the -awe-inspiring relics of that noble civilisation: 'Hence, ye -uninitiated, who will never be initiated; fly away in silence and -shame from these sacred chambers!' But this voice speaks in vain; for -one must to some extent be a Greek to understand a Greek curse of -excommunication. But these people I am speaking of are so barbaric -that they dispose of these relics to suit themselves: all their modern -conveniences and fancies are brought with them and concealed among -those ancient pillars and tombstones, and it gives rise to great -rejoicing when somebody finds, among the dust and cobwebs of -antiquity, something that he himself had slyly hidden there not so -very long before. One of them makes verses and takes care to consult -Hesychius' Lexicon. Something there immediately assures him that he is -destined to be an imitator of Æschylus, and leads him to believe, -indeed, that he 'has something in common with' Æschylus: the miserable -poetaster! Yet another peers with the suspicious eye of a policeman -into every contradiction, even into the shadow of every -contradiction, of which Homer was guilty: he fritters away his life in -tearing Homeric rags to tatters and sewing them together again, rags -that he himself was the first to filch from the poet's kingly robe. A -third feels ill at ease when examining all the mysterious and -orgiastic sides of antiquity: he makes up his mind once and for all to -let the enlightened Apollo alone pass without dispute, and to see in -the Athenian a gay and intelligent but nevertheless somewhat immoral -Apollonian. What a deep breath he draws when he succeeds in raising -yet another dark corner of antiquity to the level of his own -intelligence!--when, for example, he discovers in Pythagoras a -colleague who is as enthusiastic as himself in arguing about politics. -Another racks his brains as to why OEdipus was condemned by fate to -perform such abominable deeds--killing his father, marrying his -mother. Where lies the blame! Where the poetic justice! Suddenly it -occurs to him: OEdipus was a passionate fellow, lacking all Christian -gentleness--he even fell into an unbecoming rage when Tiresias called -him a monster and the curse of the whole country. Be humble and meek! -was what Sophocles tried to teach, otherwise you will have to marry -your mothers and kill your fathers! Others, again, pass their lives in -counting the number of verses written by Greek and Roman poets, and -are delighted with the proportions 7:13 = 14:26. Finally, one of them -brings forward his solution of a question, such as the Homeric poems -considered from the standpoint of prepositions, and thinks he has -drawn the truth from the bottom of the well with +ana+ and +kata+. All -of them, however, with the most widely separated aims in view, dig and -burrow in Greek soil with a restlessness and a blundering awkwardness -that must surely be painful to a true friend of antiquity: and thus it -comes to pass that I should like to take by the hand every talented or -talentless man who feels a certain professional inclination urging him -on to the study of antiquity, and harangue him as follows: 'Young sir, -do you know what perils threaten you, with your little stock of school -learning, before you become a man in the full sense of the word? Have -you heard that, according to Aristotle, it is by no means a tragic -death to be slain by a statue? Does that surprise you? Know, then, -that for centuries philologists have been trying, with ever-failing -strength, to re-erect the fallen statue of Greek antiquity, but -without success; for it is a colossus around which single individual -men crawl like pygmies. The leverage of the united representatives of -modern culture is utilised for the purpose; but it invariably happens -that the huge column is scarcely more than lifted from the ground when -it falls down again, crushing beneath its weight the luckless wights -under it. That, however, may be tolerated, for every being must perish -by some means or other; but who is there to guarantee that during all -these attempts the statue itself will not break in pieces! The -philologists are being crushed by the Greeks--perhaps we can put up -with this--but antiquity itself threatens to be crushed by these -philologists! Think that over, you easy-going young man; and turn -back, lest you too should not be an iconoclast!'" - -"Indeed," said the philosopher, laughing, "there are many philologists -who have turned back as you so much desire, and I notice a great -contrast with my own youthful experience. Consciously or -unconsciously, large numbers of them have concluded that it is -hopeless and useless for them to come into direct contact with -classical antiquity, hence they are inclined to look upon this study -as barren, superseded, out-of-date. This herd has turned with much -greater zest to the science of language: here in this wide expanse of -virgin soil, where even the most mediocre gifts can be turned to -account, and where a kind of insipidity and dullness is even looked -upon as decided talent, with the novelty and uncertainty of methods -and the constant danger of making fantastic mistakes--here, where dull -regimental routine and discipline are desiderata--here the newcomer is -no longer frightened by the majestic and warning voice that rises from -the ruins of antiquity: here every one is welcomed with open arms, -including even him who never arrived at any uncommon impression or -noteworthy thought after a perusal of Sophocles and Aristophanes, with -the result that they end in an etymological tangle, or are seduced -into collecting the fragments of out-of-the-way dialects--and their -time is spent in associating and dissociating, collecting and -scattering, and running hither and thither consulting books. And such -a usefully employed philologist would now fain be a teacher! He now -undertakes to teach the youth of the public schools something about -the ancient writers, although he himself has read them without any -particular impression, much less with insight! What a dilemma! -Antiquity has said nothing to him, consequently he has nothing to say -about antiquity. A sudden thought strikes him: why is he a skilled -philologist at all! Why did these authors write Latin and Greek! And -with a light heart he immediately begins to etymologise with Homer, -calling Lithuanian or Ecclesiastical Slavonic, or, above all, the -sacred Sanskrit, to his assistance: as if Greek lessons were merely -the excuse for a general introduction to the study of languages, and -as if Homer were lacking in only one respect, namely, not being -written in pre-Indogermanic. Whoever is acquainted with our present -public schools well knows what a wide gulf separates their teachers -from classicism, and how, from a feeling of this want, comparative -philology and allied professions have increased their numbers to such -an unheard-of degree." - -"What I mean is," said the other, "it would depend upon whether a -teacher of classical culture did _not_ confuse his Greeks and Romans -with the other peoples, the barbarians, whether he could _never_ put -Greek and Latin _on a level with_ other languages: so far as his -classicalism is concerned, it is a matter of indifference whether the -framework of these languages concurs with or is in any way related to -the other languages: such a concurrence does not interest him at all; -his real concern is with _what is not common to both_, with what shows -him that those two peoples were not barbarians as compared with the -others--in so far, of course, as he is a true teacher of culture and -models himself after the majestic patterns of the classics." - -"I may be wrong," said the philosopher, "but I suspect that, owing to -the way in which Latin and Greek are now taught in schools, the -accurate grasp of these languages, the ability to speak and write them -with ease, is lost, and that is something in which my own generation -distinguished itself--a generation, indeed, whose few survivers have -by this time grown old; whilst, on the other hand, the present -teachers seem to impress their pupils with the genetic and historical -importance of the subject to such an extent that, at best, their -scholars ultimately turn into little Sanskritists, etymological -spitfires, or reckless conjecturers; but not one of them can read his -Plato or Tacitus with pleasure, as we old folk can. The public schools -may still be seats of learning: not, however of _the_ learning which, -as it were, is only the natural and involuntary auxiliary of a culture -that is directed towards the noblest ends; but rather of that culture -which might be compared to the hypertrophical swelling of an unhealthy -body. The public schools are certainly the seats of this obesity, if, -indeed, they have not degenerated into the abodes of that elegant -barbarism which is boasted of as being 'German culture of the -present!'" - -"But," asked the other, "what is to become of that large body of -teachers who have not been endowed with a true gift for culture, and -who set up as teachers merely to gain a livelihood from the -profession, because there is a demand for them, because a superfluity -of schools brings with it a superfluity of teachers? Where shall they -go when antiquity peremptorily orders them to withdraw? Must they not -be sacrificed to those powers of the present who, day after day, call -out to them from the never-ending columns of the press 'We are -culture! We are education! We are at the zenith! We are the apexes of -the pyramids! We are the aims of universal history!'--when they hear -the seductive promises, when the shameful signs of non-culture, the -plebeian publicity of the so-called 'interests of culture' are -extolled for their benefit in magazines and newspapers as an entirely -new and the best possible, full-grown form of culture! Whither shall -the poor fellows fly when they feel the presentiment that these -promises are not true--where but to the most obtuse, sterile -scientificality, that here the shriek of culture may no longer be -audible to them? Pursued in this way, must they not end, like the -ostrich, by burying their heads in the sand? Is it not a real -happiness for them, buried as they are among dialects, etymologies, -and conjectures, to lead a life like that of the ants, even though -they are miles removed from true culture, if only they can close their -ears tightly and be deaf to the voice of the 'elegant' culture of the -time." - -"You are right, my friend," said the philosopher, "but whence comes the -urgent necessity for a surplus of schools for culture, which further -gives rise to the necessity for a surplus of teachers?--when we so -clearly see that the demand for a surplus springs from a sphere which is -hostile to culture, and that the consequences of this surplus only lead -to non-culture. Indeed, we can discuss this dire necessity only in so -far as the modern State is willing to discuss these things with us, and -is prepared to follow up its demands by force: which phenomenon -certainly makes the same impression upon most people as if they were -addressed by the eternal law of things. For the rest, a 'Culture-State,' -to use the current expression, which makes such demands, is rather a -novelty, and has only come to a 'self-understanding' within the last -half century, _i.e._ in a period when (to use the favourite popular -word) so many 'self-understood' things came into being, but which are in -themselves not 'self-understood' at all. This right to higher education -has been taken so seriously by the most powerful of modern -States--Prussia--that the objectionable principle it has adopted, taken -in connection with the well-known daring and hardihood of this State, is -seen to have a menacing and dangerous consequence for the true German -spirit; for we see endeavours being made in this quarter to raise the -public school, formally systematised, up to the so-called 'level of the -time.' Here is to be found all that mechanism by means of which as many -scholars as possible are urged on to take up courses of public school -training: here, indeed, the State has its most powerful inducement--the -concession of certain privileges respecting military service, with the -natural consequence that, according to the unprejudiced evidence of -statistical officials, by this, and by this only, can we explain the -universal congestion of all Prussian public schools, and the urgent and -continual need for new ones. What more can the State do for a surplus of -educational institutions than bring all the higher and the majority of -the lower civil service appointments, the right of entry to the -universities, and even the most influential military posts into close -connection with the public school: and all this in a country where both -universal military service and the highest offices of the State -unconsciously attract all gifted natures to them. The public school is -here looked upon as an honourable aim, and every one who feels himself -urged on to the sphere of government will be found on his way to it. -This is a new and quite original occurrence: the State assumes the -attitude of a mystogogue of culture, and, whilst it promotes its own -ends, it obliges every one of its servants not to appear in its presence -without the torch of universal State education in their hands, by the -flickering light of which they may again recognise the State as the -highest goal, as the reward of all their strivings after education. - -"Now this last phenomenon should indeed surprise them; it should -remind them of that allied, slowly understood tendency of a philosophy -which was formerly promoted for reasons of State, namely, the -tendency of the Hegelian philosophy: yea, it would perhaps be no -exaggeration to say that, in the subordination of all strivings after -education to reasons of State, Prussia has appropriated, with success, -the principle and the useful heirloom of the Hegelian philosophy, -whose apotheosis of the State in _this_ subordination certainly -reaches its height." - -"But," said the philosopher's companion, "what purposes can the State -have in view with such a strange aim? For that it has some State -objects in view is seen in the manner in which the conditions of -Prussian schools are admired by, meditated upon, and occasionally -imitated by other States. These other States obviously presuppose -something here that, if adopted, would tend towards the maintenance -and power of the State, like our well-known and popular conscription. -Where everyone proudly wears his soldier's uniform at regular -intervals, where almost every one has absorbed a uniform type of -national culture through the public schools, enthusiastic hyperboles -may well be uttered concerning the systems employed in former times, -and a form of State omnipotence which was attained only in antiquity, -and which almost every young man, by both instinct and training, -thinks it is the crowning glory and highest aim of human beings to -reach." - -"Such a comparison," said the philosopher, "would be quite -hyperbolical, and would not hobble along on one leg only. For, indeed, -the ancient State emphatically did not share the utilitarian point of -view of recognising as culture only what was directly useful to the -State itself, and was far from wishing to destroy those impulses which -did not seem to be immediately applicable. For this very reason the -profound Greek had for the State that strong feeling of admiration and -thankfulness which is so distasteful to modern men; because he clearly -recognised not only that without such State protection the germs of -his culture could not develop, but also that all his inimitable and -perennial culture had flourished so luxuriantly under the wise and -careful guardianship of the protection afforded by the State. The -State was for his culture not a supervisor, regulator, and watchman, -but a vigorous and muscular companion and friend, ready for war, who -accompanied his noble, admired, and, as it were, ethereal friend -through disagreeable reality, earning his thanks therefor. This, -however, does not happen when a modern State lays claim to such hearty -gratitude because it renders such chivalrous service to German culture -and art: for in this regard its past is as ignominious as its present, -as a proof of which we have but to think of the manner in which the -memory of our great poets and artists is celebrated in German cities, -and how the highest objects of these German masters are supported on -the part of the State. - -"There must therefore be peculiar circumstances surrounding both this -purpose towards which the State is tending, and which always promotes -what is here called 'education'; and surrounding likewise the culture -thus promoted, which subordinates itself to this purpose of the State. -With the real German spirit and the education derived therefrom, such -as I have slowly outlined for you, this purpose of the State is at -war, hiddenly or openly: _the_ spirit of education, which is welcomed -and encouraged with such interest by the State, and owing to which the -schools of this country are so much admired abroad, must accordingly -originate in a sphere that never comes into contact with this true -German spirit: with that spirit which speaks to us so wondrously from -the inner heart of the German Reformation, German music, and German -philosophy, and which, like a noble exile, is regarded with such -indifference and scorn by the luxurious education afforded by the -State. This spirit is a stranger: it passes by in solitary sadness, -and far away from it the censer of pseudo-culture is swung backwards -and forwards, which, amidst the acclamations of 'educated' teachers -and journalists, arrogates to itself its name and privileges, and -metes out insulting treatment to the word 'German.' Why does the State -require that surplus of educational institutions, of teachers? Why -this education of the masses on such an extended scale? Because the -true German spirit is hated, because the aristocratic nature of true -culture is feared, because the people endeavour in this way to drive -single great individuals into self-exile, so that the claims of the -masses to education may be, so to speak, planted down and carefully -tended, in order that the many may in this way endeavour to escape the -rigid and strict discipline of the few great leaders, so that the -masses may be persuaded that they can easily find the path for -themselves--following the guiding star of the State! - -"A new phenomenon! The State as the guiding star of culture! In the -meantime one thing consoles me: this German spirit, which people are -combating so much, and for which they have substituted a gaudily -attired _locum tenens_, this spirit is brave: it will fight and redeem -itself into a purer age; noble, as it is now, and victorious, as it -one day will be, it will always preserve in its mind a certain pitiful -toleration of the State, if the latter, hard-pressed in the hour of -extremity, secures such a pseudo-culture as its associate. For what, -after all, do we know about the difficult task of governing men, -_i.e._ to keep law, order, quietness, and peace among millions of -boundlessly egoistical, unjust, unreasonable, dishonourable, envious, -malignant, and hence very narrow-minded and perverse human beings; and -thus to protect the few things that the State has conquered for itself -against covetous neighbours and jealous robbers? Such a hard-pressed -State holds out its arms to any associate, grasps at any straw; and -when such an associate does introduce himself with flowery eloquence, -when he adjudges the State, as Hegel did, to be an 'absolutely -complete ethical organism,' the be-all and end-all of every one's -education, and goes on to indicate how he himself can best promote the -interests of the State--who will be surprised if, without further -parley, the State falls upon his neck and cries aloud in a barbaric -voice of full conviction: 'Yes! Thou art education! Thou art indeed -culture!'" - - - - -FOURTH LECTURE. - -(_Delivered on the 5th of March 1872._) - - -LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,--Now that you have followed my tale up to this -point, and that we have made ourselves joint masters of the solitary, -remote, and at times abusive duologue of the philosopher and his -companion, I sincerely hope that you, like strong swimmers, are ready -to proceed on the second half of our journey, especially as I can -promise you that a few other marionettes will appear in the -puppet-play of my adventure, and that if up to the present you have -only been able to do little more than endure what I have been telling -you, the waves of my story will now bear you more quickly and easily -towards the end. In other words we have now come to a turning, and it -would be advisable for us to take a short glance backwards to see what -we think we have gained from such a varied conversation. - -"Remain in your present position," the philosopher seemed to say to -his companion, "for you may cherish hopes. It is more and more clearly -evident that we have no educational institutions at all; but that we -ought to have them. Our public schools--established, it would seem, -for this high object--have either become the nurseries of a -reprehensible culture which repels the true culture with profound -hatred--_i.e._ a true, aristocratic culture, founded upon a few -carefully chosen minds; or they foster a micrological and sterile -learning which, while it is far removed from culture, has at least -this merit, that it avoids that reprehensible culture as well as the -true culture." The philosopher had particularly drawn his companion's -attention to the strange corruption which must have entered into the -heart of culture when the State thought itself capable of tyrannising -over it and of attaining its ends through it; and further when the -State, in conjunction with this culture, struggled against other -hostile forces as well as against _the_ spirit which the philosopher -ventured to call the "true German spirit." This spirit, linked to the -Greeks by the noblest ties, and shown by its past history to have been -steadfast and courageous, pure and lofty in its aims, its faculties -qualifying it for the high task of freeing modern man from the curse -of modernity--this spirit is condemned to live apart, banished from -its inheritance. But when its slow, painful tones of woe resound -through the desert of the present, then the overladen and gaily-decked -caravan of culture is pulled up short, horror-stricken. We must not -only astonish, but terrify--such was the philosopher's opinion: not to -fly shamefully away, but to take the offensive, was his advice; but he -especially counselled his companion not to ponder too anxiously over -the individual from whom, through a higher instinct, this aversion for -the present barbarism proceeded, "Let it perish: the Pythian god had -no difficulty in finding a new tripod, a second Pythia, so long, at -least, as the mystic cold vapours rose from the earth." - -The philosopher once more began to speak: "Be careful to remember, my -friend," said he, "there are two things you must not confuse. A man -must learn a great deal that he may live and take part in the struggle -for existence; but everything that he as an individual learns and does -with this end in view has nothing whatever to do with culture. This -latter only takes its beginning in a sphere that lies far above the -world of necessity, indigence, and struggle for existence. The -question now is to what extent a man values his ego in comparison with -other egos, how much of his strength he uses up in the endeavour to -earn his living. Many a one, by stoically confining his needs within a -narrow compass, will shortly and easily reach the sphere in which he -may forget, and, as it were, shake off his ego, so that he can enjoy -perpetual youth in a solar system of timeless and impersonal things. -Another widens the scope and needs of his ego as much as possible, and -builds the mausoleum of this ego in vast proportions, as if he were -prepared to fight and conquer that terrible adversary, Time. In this -instinct also we may see a longing for immortality: wealth and power, -wisdom, presence of mind, eloquence, a flourishing outward aspect, a -renowned name--all these are merely turned into the means by which an -insatiable, personal will to live craves for new life, with which, -again, it hankers after an eternity that is at last seen to be -illusory. - -"But even in this highest form of the ego, in the enhanced needs of -such a distended and, as it were, collective individual, true culture -is never touched upon; and if, for example, art is sought after, only -its disseminating and stimulating actions come into prominence, _i.e._ -those which least give rise to pure and noble art, and most of all to -low and degraded forms of it. For in all his efforts, however great -and exceptional they seem to the onlooker, he never succeeds in -freeing himself from his own hankering and restless personality: that -illuminated, ethereal sphere where one may contemplate without the -obstruction of one's own personality continually recedes from him--and -thus, let him learn, travel, and collect as he may, he must always -live an exiled life at a remote distance from a higher life and from -true culture. For true culture would scorn to contaminate itself with -the needy and covetous individual; it well knows how to give the slip -to the man who would fain employ it as a means of attaining to -egoistic ends; and if any one cherishes the belief that he has firmly -secured it as a means of livelihood, and that he can procure the -necessities of life by its sedulous cultivation, then it suddenly -steals away with noiseless steps and an air of derisive mockery.[6] - -"I will thus ask you, my friend, not to confound this culture, this -sensitive, fastidious, ethereal goddess, with that useful -maid-of-all-work which is also called 'culture,' but which is only -the intellectual servant and counsellor of one's practical -necessities, wants, and means of livelihood Every kind of training, -however, which holds out the prospect of bread-winning as its end and -aim, is not a training for culture as we understand the word; but -merely a collection of precepts and directions to show how, in the -struggle for existence, a man may preserve and protect his own person. -It may be freely admitted that for the great majority of men such a -course of instruction is of the highest importance; and the more -arduous the struggle is the more intensely must the young man strain -every nerve to utilise his strength to the best advantage. - -"But--let no one think for a moment that the schools which urge him on -to this struggle and prepare him for it are in any way seriously to be -considered as establishments of culture. They are institutions which -teach one how to take part in the battle of life; whether they promise -to turn out civil servants, or merchants, or officers, or wholesale -dealers, or farmers, or physicians, or men with a technical training. -The regulations and standards prevailing at such institutions differ -from those in a true educational institution; and what in the latter -is permitted, and even freely held out as often as possible, ought to -be considered as a criminal offence in the former. - -"Let me give you an example. If you wish to guide a young man on the -path of true culture, beware of interrupting his naive, confident, -and, as it were, immediate and personal relationship with nature. The -woods, the rocks, the winds, the vulture, the flowers, the butterfly, -the meads, the mountain slopes, must all speak to him in their own -language; in them he must, as it were, come to know himself again in -countless reflections and images, in a variegated round of changing -visions; and in this way he will unconsciously and gradually feel the -metaphysical unity of all things in the great image of nature, and at -the same time tranquillise his soul in the contemplation of her -eternal endurance and necessity. But how many young men should be -permitted to grow up in such close and almost personal proximity to -nature! The others must learn another truth betimes: how to subdue -nature to themselves. Here is an end of this naive metaphysics; and -the physiology of plants and animals, geology, inorganic chemistry, -force their devotees to view nature from an altogether different -standpoint. What is lost by this new point of view is not only a -poetical phantasmagoria, but the instinctive, true, and unique point -of view, instead of which we have shrewd and clever calculations, and, -so to speak, overreachings of nature. Thus to the truly cultured man -is vouchsafed the inestimable benefit of being able to remain -faithful, without a break, to the contemplative instincts of his -childhood, and so to attain to a calmness, unity, consistency, and -harmony which can never be even thought of by a man who is compelled -to fight in the struggle for existence. - -"You must not think, however, that I wish to withhold all praise from -our primary and secondary schools: I honour the seminaries where boys -learn arithmetic and master modern languages, and study geography and -the marvellous discoveries made in natural science. I am quite -prepared to say further that those youths who pass through the better -class of secondary schools are well entitled to make the claims put -forward by the fully-fledged public school boy; and the time is -certainly not far distant when such pupils will be everywhere freely -admitted to the universities and positions under the government, which -has hitherto been the case only with scholars from the public -schools--of our present public schools, be it noted![7] I cannot, -however, refrain from adding the melancholy reflection: if it be true -that secondary and public schools are, on the whole, working so -heartily in common towards the same ends, and differ from each other -only in such a slight degree, that they may take equal rank before the -tribunal of the State, then we completely lack another kind of -educational institutions: those for the development of culture! To say -the least, the secondary schools cannot be reproached with this; for -they have up to the present propitiously and honourably followed up -tendencies of a lower order, but one nevertheless highly necessary. In -the public schools, however, there is very much less honesty and very -much less ability too; for in them we find an instinctive feeling of -shame, the unconscious perception of the fact that the whole -institution has been ignominiously degraded, and that the sonorous -words of wise and apathetic teachers are contradictory to the dreary, -barbaric, and sterile reality. So there are no true cultural -institutions! And in those very places where a pretence to culture is -still kept up, we find the people more hopeless, atrophied, and -discontented than in the secondary schools, where the so-called -'realistic' subjects are taught! Besides this, only think how immature -and uninformed one must be in the company of such teachers when one -actually misunderstands the rigorously defined philosophical -expressions 'real' and 'realism' to such a degree as to think them the -contraries of mind and matter, and to interpret 'realism' as 'the road -to knowledge, formation, and mastery of reality.' - -"I for my own part know of only two exact contraries: _institutions -for teaching culture and institutions for teaching how to succeed in -life_. All our present institutions belong to the second class; but I -am speaking only of the first." - -About two hours went by while the philosophically-minded couple -chatted about such startling questions. Night slowly fell in the -meantime; and when in the twilight the philosopher's voice had sounded -like natural music through the woods, it now rang out in the profound -darkness of the night when he was speaking with excitement or even -passionately; his tones hissing and thundering far down the valley, -and reverberating among the trees and rocks. Suddenly he was silent: -he had just repeated, almost pathetically, the words, "we have no true -educational institutions; we have no true educational institutions!" -when something fell down just in front of him--it might have been a -fir-cone--and his dog barked and ran towards it. Thus interrupted, the -philosopher raised his head, and suddenly became aware of the -darkness, the cool air, and the lonely situation of himself and his -companion. "Well! What are we about!" he ejaculated, "it's dark. You -know whom we were expecting here; but he hasn't come. We have waited -in vain; let us go." - - * * * * * - -I must now, ladies and gentlemen, convey to you the impressions -experienced by my friend and myself as we eagerly listened to this -conversation, which we heard distinctly in our hiding-place. I have -already told you that at that place and at that hour we had intended -to hold a festival in commemoration of something: and this something -had to do with nothing else than matters concerning educational -training, of which we, in our own youthful opinions, had garnered a -plentiful harvest during our past life. We were thus disposed to -remember with gratitude the institution which we had at one time -thought out for ourselves at that very spot in order, as I have -already mentioned, that we might reciprocally encourage and watch over -one another's educational impulses. But a sudden and unexpected light -was thrown on all that past life as we silently gave ourselves up to -the vehement words of the philosopher. As when a traveller, walking -heedlessly across unknown ground, suddenly puts his foot over the edge -of a cliff, so it now seemed to us that we had hastened to meet the -great danger rather than run away from it. Here at this spot, so -memorable to us, we heard the warning: "Back! Not another step! Know -you not whither your footsteps tend, whither this deceitful path is -luring you?" - -It seemed to us that we now knew, and our feeling of overflowing -thankfulness impelled us so irresistibly towards our earnest -counsellor and trusty Eckart, that both of us sprang up at the same -moment and rushed towards the philosopher to embrace him. He was just -about to move off, and had already turned sideways when we rushed up -to him. The dog turned sharply round and barked, thinking doubtless, -like the philosopher's companion, of an attempt at robbery rather than -an enraptured embrace. It was plain that he had forgotten us. In a -word, he ran away. Our embrace was a miserable failure when we did -overtake him; for my friend gave a loud yell as the dog bit him, and -the philosopher himself sprang away from me with such force that we -both fell. What with the dog and the men there was a scramble that -lasted a few minutes, until my friend began to call out loudly, -parodying the philosopher's own words: "In the name of all culture and -pseudo-culture, what does the silly dog want with us? Hence, you -confounded dog; you uninitiated, never to be initiated; hasten away -from us, silent and ashamed!" After this outburst matters were cleared -up to some extent, at any rate so far as they could be cleared up in -the darkness of the wood. "Oh, it's you!" ejaculated the philosopher, -"our duellists! How you startled us! What on earth drives you to jump -out upon us like this at such a time of the night?" - -"Joy, thankfulness, and reverence," said we, shaking the old man by -the hand, whilst the dog barked as if he understood, "we can't let you -go without telling you this. And if you are to understand everything -you must not go away just yet; we want to ask you about so many things -that lie heavily on our hearts. Stay yet awhile; we know every foot of -the way and can accompany you afterwards. The gentleman you expect may -yet turn up. Look over yonder on the Rhine: what is that we see so -clearly floating on the surface of the water as if surrounded by the -light of many torches? It is there that we may look for your friend, I -would even venture to say that it is he who is coming towards you with -all those lights." - -And so much did we assail the surprised old man with our entreaties, -promises, and fantastic delusions, that we persuaded the philosopher -to walk to and fro with us on the little plateau, "by learned lumber -undisturbed," as my friend added. - -"Shame on you!" said the philosopher, "if you really want to quote -something, why choose Faust? However, I will give in to you, quotation -or no quotation, if only our young companions will keep still and not -run away as suddenly as they made their appearance, for they are like -will-o'-the-wisps; we are amazed when they are there and again when -they are not there." - -My friend immediately recited-- - - Respect, I hope, will teach us how we may - Our lighter disposition keep at bay. - Our course is only zig-zag as a rule. - -The philosopher was surprised, and stood still. "You astonish me, you -will-o'-the-wisps," he said; "this is no quagmire we are on now. Of -what use is this ground to you? What does the proximity of a -philosopher mean to you? For around him the air is sharp and clear, -the ground dry and hard. You must find out a more fantastic region for -your zig-zagging inclinations." - -"I think," interrupted the philosopher's companion at this point, "the -gentlemen have already told us that they promised to meet some one -here at this hour; but it seems to me that they listened to our comedy -of education like a chorus, and truly 'idealistic spectators'--for -they did not disturb us; we thought we were alone with each other." - -"Yes, that is true," said the philosopher, "that praise must not be -withheld from them, but it seems to me that they deserve still higher -praise----" - -Here I seized the philosopher's hand and said: "That man must be as -obtuse as a reptile, with his stomach on the ground and his head -buried in mud, who can listen to such a discourse as yours without -becoming earnest and thoughtful, or even excited and indignant. -Self-accusation and annoyance might perhaps cause a few to get angry; -but our impression was quite different: the only thing I do not know -is how exactly to describe it. This hour was so well-timed for us, and -our minds were so well prepared, that we sat there like empty vessels, -and now it seems as if we were filled to overflowing with this new -wisdom: for I no longer know how to help myself, and if some one asked -me what I am thinking of doing to-morrow, or what I have made up my -mind to do with myself from now on, I should not know what to answer. -For it is easy to see that we have up to the present been living and -educating ourselves in the wrong way--but what can we do to cross over -the chasm between to-day and to-morrow?" - -"Yes," acknowledged my friend, "I have a similar feeling, and I ask -the same question: but besides that I feel as if I were frightened -away from German culture by entertaining such high and ideal views of -its task; yea, as if I were unworthy to co-operate with it in carrying -out its aims. I only see a resplendent file of the highest natures -moving towards this goal; I can imagine over what abysses and through -what temptations this procession travels. Who would dare to be so bold -as to join in it?" - -At this point the philosopher's companion again turned to him and -said: "Don't be angry with me when I tell you that I too have a -somewhat similar feeling, which I have not mentioned to you before. -When talking to you I often felt drawn out of myself, as it were, and -inspired with your ardour and hopes till I almost forgot myself. Then -a calmer moment arrives; a piercing wind of reality brings me back to -earth--and then I see the wide gulf between us, over which you -yourself, as in a dream, draw me back again. Then what you call -'culture' merely totters meaninglessly around me or lies heavily on my -breast: it is like a shirt of mail that weighs me down, or a sword -that I cannot wield." - -Our minds, as we thus argued with the philosopher, were unanimous, -and, mutually encouraging and stimulating one another, we slowly -walked with him backwards and forwards along the unencumbered space -which had earlier in the day served us as a shooting range. And then, -in the still night, under the peaceful light of hundreds of stars, we -all broke out into a tirade which ran somewhat as follows:-- - -"You have told us so much about the genius," we began, "about his -lonely and wearisome journey through the world, as if nature never -exhibited anything but the most diametrical contraries: in one place -the stupid, dull masses, acting by instinct, and then, on a far higher -and more remote plane, the great contemplating few, destined for the -production of immortal works. But now you call these the apexes of the -intellectual pyramid: it would, however, seem that between the broad, -heavily burdened foundation up to the highest of the free and -unencumbered peaks there must be countless intermediate degrees, and -that here we must apply the saying _natura non facit saltus_. Where -then are we to look for the beginning of what you call culture; where -is the line of demarcation to be drawn between the spheres which are -ruled from below upwards and those which are ruled from above -downwards? And if it be only in connection with these exalted beings -that true culture may be spoken of, how are institutions to be founded -for the uncertain existence of such natures, how can we devise -educational establishments which shall be of benefit only to these -select few? It rather seems to us that such persons know how to find -their own way, and that their full strength is shown in their being -able to walk without the educational crutches necessary for other -people, and thus undisturbed to make their way through the storm and -stress of this rough world just like a phantom." - -We kept on arguing in this fashion, speaking without any great ability -and not putting our thoughts in any special form: but the -philosopher's companion went even further, and said to him: "Just -think of all these great geniuses of whom we are wont to be so proud, -looking upon them as tried and true leaders and guides of this real -German spirit, whose names we commemorate by statues and festivals, -and whose works we hold up with feelings of pride for the admiration -of foreign lands--how did they obtain the education you demand for -them, to what degree do they show that they have been nourished and -matured by basking in the sun of national education? And yet they are -seen to be possible, they have nevertheless become men whom we must -honour: yea, their works themselves justify the form of the -development of these noble spirits; they justify even a certain want -of education for which we must make allowance owing to their country -and the age in which they lived. How could Lessing and Winckelmann -benefit by the German culture of their time? Even less than, or at all -events just as little as Beethoven, Schiller, Goethe, or every one of -our great poets and artists. It may perhaps be a law of nature that -only the later generations are destined to know by what divine gifts -an earlier generation was favoured." - -At this point the old philosopher could not control his anger, and -shouted to his companion: "Oh, you innocent lamb of knowledge! You -gentle sucking doves, all of you! And would you give the name of -arguments to those distorted, clumsy, narrow-minded, ungainly, -crippled things? Yes, I have just now been listening to the fruits of -some of this present-day culture, and my ears are still ringing with -the sound of historical 'self-understood' things, of over-wise and -pitiless historical reasonings! Mark this, thou unprofaned Nature: -thou hast grown old, and for thousands of years this starry sky has -spanned the space above thee--but thou hast never yet heard such -conceited and, at bottom, mischievous chatter as the talk of the -present day! So you are proud of your poets and artists, my good -Teutons? You point to them and brag about them to foreign countries, -do you? And because it has given you no trouble to have them amongst -you, you have formed the pleasant theory that you need not concern -yourselves further with them? Isn't that so, my inexperienced -children: they come of their own free will, the stork brings them to -you! Who would dare to mention a midwife! You deserve an earnest -teaching, eh? You should be proud of the fact that all the noble and -brilliant men we have mentioned were prematurely suffocated, worn out, -and crushed through you, through your barbarism? You think without -shame of Lessing, who, on account of your stupidity, perished in -battle against your ludicrous gods and idols, the evils of your -theatres, your learned men, and your theologians, without once daring -to lift himself to the height of that immortal flight for which he -was brought into the world. And what are your impressions when you -think of Winckelmann, who, that he might rid his eyes of your -grotesque fatuousness, went to beg help from the Jesuits, and whose -disgraceful religious conversion recoils upon you and will always -remain an ineffaceable blemish upon you? You can even name Schiller -without blushing! Just look at his picture! The fiery, sparkling eyes, -looking at you with disdain, those flushed, death-like cheeks: can you -learn nothing from all that? In him you had a beautiful and divine -plaything, and through it was destroyed. And if it had been possible -for you to take Goethe's friendship away from this melancholy, hasty -life, hunted to premature death, then you would have crushed him even -sooner than you did. You have not rendered assistance to a single one -of our great geniuses--and now upon that fact you wish to build up the -theory that none of them shall ever be helped in future? For each of -them, however, up to this very moment, you have always been the -'resistance of the stupid world' that Goethe speaks of in his -"Epilogue to the Bell"; towards each of them you acted the part of -apathetic dullards or jealous narrow-hearts or malignant egotists. In -spite of you they created their immortal works, against you they -directed their attacks, and thanks to you they died so prematurely, -their tasks only half accomplished, blunted and dulled and shattered -in the battle. Who can tell to what these heroic men were destined to -attain if only that true German spirit had gathered them together -within the protecting walls of a powerful institution?--that spirit -which, without the help of some such institution, drags out an -isolated, debased, and degraded existence. All those great men were -utterly ruined; and it is only an insane belief in the Hegelian -'reasonableness of all happenings' which would absolve you of any -responsibility in the matter. And not those men alone! Indictments are -pouring forth against you from every intellectual province: whether I -look at the talents of our poets, philosophers, painters, or -sculptors--and not only in the case of gifts of the highest order--I -everywhere see immaturity, overstrained nerves, or prematurely -exhausted energies, abilities wasted and nipped in the bud; I -everywhere feel that 'resistance of the stupid world,' in other words, -_your_ guiltiness. That is what I am talking about when I speak of -lacking educational establishments, and why I think those which at -present claim the name in such a pitiful condition. Whoever is pleased -to call this an 'ideal desire,' and refers to it as 'ideal' as if he -were trying to get rid of it by praising me, deserves the answer that -the present system is a scandal and a disgrace, and that the man who -asks for warmth in the midst of ice and snow must indeed get angry if -he hears this referred to as an 'ideal desire.' The matter we are now -discussing is concerned with clear, urgent, and palpably evident -realities: a man who knows anything of the question feels that there -is a need which must be seen to, just like cold and hunger. But the -man who is not affected at all by this matter most certainly has a -standard by which to measure the extent of his own culture, and thus -to know what I call 'culture,' and where the line should be drawn -between that which is ruled from below upwards and that which is ruled -from above downwards." - -The philosopher seemed to be speaking very heatedly. We begged him to -walk round with us again, since he had uttered the latter part of his -discourse standing near the tree-stump which had served us as a -target. For a few minutes not a word more was spoken. Slowly and -thoughtfully we walked to and fro. We did not so much feel ashamed of -having brought forward such foolish arguments as we felt a kind of -restitution of our personality. After the heated and, so far as we -were concerned, very unflattering utterance of the philosopher, we -seemed to feel ourselves nearer to him--that we even stood in a -personal relationship to him. For so wretched is man that he never -feels himself brought into such close contact with a stranger as when -the latter shows some sign of weakness, some defect. That our -philosopher had lost his temper and made use of abusive language -helped to bridge over the gulf created between us by our timid respect -for him: and for the sake of the reader who feels his indignation -rising at this suggestion let it be added that this bridge often leads -from distant hero-worship to personal love and pity. And, after the -feeling that our personality had been restored to us, this pity -gradually became stronger and stronger. Why were we making this old -man walk up and down with us between the rocks and trees at that time -of the night? And, since he had yielded to our entreaties, why could -we not have thought of a more modest and unassuming manner of having -ourselves instructed, why should the three of us have contradicted him -in such clumsy terms? - -For now we saw how thoughtless, unprepared, and baseless were all the -objections we had made, and how greatly the echo of _the_ present was -heard in them, the voice of which, in the province of culture, the old -man would fain not have heard. Our objections, however, were not -purely intellectual ones: our reasons for protesting against the -philosopher's statements seemed to lie elsewhere. They arose perhaps -from the instinctive anxiety to know whether, if the philosopher's -views were carried into effect, our own personalities would find a -place in the higher or lower division; and this made it necessary for -us to find some arguments against the mode of thinking which robbed us -of our self-styled claims to culture. People, however, should not -argue with companions who feel the weight of an argument so -personally; or, as the moral in our case would have been: such -companions should not argue, should not contradict at all. - -So we walked on beside the philosopher, ashamed, compassionate, -dissatisfied with ourselves, and more than ever convinced that the old -man was right and that we had done him wrong. How remote now seemed -the youthful dream of our educational institution; how clearly we saw -the danger which we had hitherto escaped merely by good luck, namely, -giving ourselves up body and soul to the educational system which -forced itself upon our notice so enticingly, from the time when we -entered the public schools up to that moment. How then had it come -about that we had not taken our places in the chorus of its admirers? -Perhaps merely because we were real students, and could still draw -back from the rough-and-tumble, the pushing and struggling, the -restless, ever-breaking waves of publicity, to seek refuge in our own -little educational establishment; which, however, time would have soon -swallowed up also. - -Overcome by such reflections, we were about to address the philosopher -again, when he suddenly turned towards us, and said in a softer tone-- - -"I cannot be surprised if you young men behave rashly and -thoughtlessly; for it is hardly likely that you have ever seriously -considered what I have just said to you. Don't be in a hurry; carry -this question about with you, but do at any rate consider it day and -night. For you are now at the parting of the ways, and now you know -where each path leads. If you take the one, your age will receive you -with open arms, you will not find it wanting in honours and -decorations: you will form units of an enormous rank and file; and -there will be as many people like-minded standing behind you as in -front of you. And when the leader gives the word it will be re-echoed -from rank to rank. For here your first duty is this: to fight in rank -and file; and your second: to annihilate all those who refuse to form -part of the rank and file. On the other path you will have but few -fellow-travellers: it is more arduous, winding and precipitous; and -those who take the first path will mock you, for your progress is more -wearisome, and they will try to lure you over into their own ranks. -When the two paths happen to cross, however, you will be roughly -handled and thrust aside, or else shunned and isolated. - -"Now, take these two parties, so different from each other in every -respect, and tell me what meaning an educational establishment would -have for them. That enormous horde, crowding onwards on the first path -towards its goal, would take the term to mean an institution by which -each of its members would become duly qualified to take his place in -the rank and file, and would be purged of everything which might tend -to make him strive after higher and more remote aims. I don't deny, of -course, that they can find pompous words with which to describe their -aims: for example, they speak of the 'universal development of free -personality upon a firm social, national, and human basis,' or they -announce as their goal: 'The founding of the peaceful sovereignty of -the people upon reason, education, and justice.' - -"An educational establishment for the other and smaller company, -however, would be something vastly different. They would employ it to -prevent themselves from being separated from one another and -overwhelmed by the first huge crowd, to prevent their few select -spirits from losing sight of their splendid and noble task through -premature weariness, or from being turned aside from the true path, -corrupted, or subverted. These select spirits must complete their -work: that is the _raison d'être_ of their common institution--a work, -indeed, which, as it were, must be free from subjective traces, and -must further rise above the transient events of future times as the -pure reflection of the eternal and immutable essence of things. And -all those who occupy places in that institution must co-operate in the -endeavour to engender men of genius by this purification from -subjectiveness and the creation of the works of genius. Not a few, -even of those whose talents may be of the second or third order, are -suited to such co-operation, and only when serving in such an -educational establishment as this do they feel that they are truly -carrying out their life's task. But now it is just these talents I -speak of which are drawn away from the true path, and their instincts -estranged, by the continual seductions of that modern 'culture.' - -"The egotistic emotions, weaknesses, and vanities of these few select -minds are continually assailed by the temptations unceasingly murmured -into their ears by the spirit of the age: 'Come with me! There you are -servants, retainers, tools, eclipsed by higher natures; your own -peculiar characteristics never have free play; you are tied down, -chained down, like slaves; yea, like automata: here, with me, you will -enjoy the freedom of your own personalities, as masters should, your -talents will cast their lustre on yourselves alone, with their aid you -may come to the very front rank; an innumerable train of followers -will accompany you, and the applause of public opinion will yield you -more pleasure than a nobly-bestowed commendation from the height of -genius.' Even the very best of men now yield to these temptations: and -it cannot be said that the deciding factor here is the degree of -talent, or whether a man is accessible to these voices or not; but -rather the degree and the height of a certain moral sublimity, the -instinct towards heroism, towards sacrifice--and finally a positive, -habitual need of culture, prepared by a proper kind of education, -which education, as I have previously said, is first and foremost -obedience and submission to the discipline of genius. Of this -discipline and submission, however, the present institutions called by -courtesy 'educational establishments' know nothing whatever, although -I have no doubt that the public school was originally intended to be -an institution for sowing the seeds of true culture, or at least as a -preparation for it. I have no doubt, either, that they took the first -bold steps in the wonderful and stirring times of the Reformation, and -that afterwards, in the era which gave birth to Schiller and Goethe, -there was again a growing demand for culture, like the first -protuberance of that wing spoken of by Plato in the _Phaedrus_, which, -at every contact with the beautiful, bears the soul aloft into the -upper regions, the habitations of the gods." - -"Ah," began the philosopher's companion, "when you quote the divine -Plato and the world of ideas, I do not think you are angry with me, -however much my previous utterance may have merited your disapproval -and wrath. As soon as you speak of it, I feel that Platonic wing -rising within me; and it is only at intervals, when I act as the -charioteer of my soul, that I have any difficulty with the resisting -and unwilling horse that Plato has also described to us, the -'crooked, lumbering animal, put together anyhow, with a short, thick -neck; flat-faced, and of a dark colour, with grey eyes and blood-red -complexion; the mate of insolence and pride, shag-eared and deaf, -hardly yielding to whip or spur.'[8] Just think how long I have lived -at a distance from you, and how all those temptations you speak of -have endeavoured to lure me away, not perhaps without some success, -even though I myself may not have observed it. I now see more clearly -than ever the necessity for an institution which will enable us to -live and mix freely with the few men of true culture, so that we may -have them as our leaders and guiding stars. How greatly I feel the -danger of travelling alone! And when it occurred to me that I could -save myself by flight from all contact with the spirit of the time, I -found that this flight itself was a mere delusion. Continuously, with -every breath we take, some amount of that atmosphere circulates -through every vein and artery, and no solitude is lonesome or distant -enough for us to be out of reach of its fogs and clouds. Whether in -the guise of hope, doubt, profit, or virtue, the shades of that -culture hover about us; and we have been deceived by that jugglery -even here in the presence of a true hermit of culture. How steadfastly -and faithfully must the few followers of that culture--which might -almost be called sectarian--be ever on the alert! How they must -strengthen and uphold one another! How adversely would any errors be -criticised here, and how sympathetically excused! And thus, teacher, I -ask you to pardon me, after you have laboured so earnestly to set me -in the right path!" - -"You use a language which I do not care for, my friend," said the -philosopher, "and one which reminds me of a diocesan conference. With -that I have nothing to do. But your Platonic horse pleases me, and on -its account you shall be forgiven. I am willing to exchange my own -animal for yours. But it is getting chilly, and I don't feel inclined -to walk about any more just now. The friend I was waiting for is -indeed foolish enough to come up here even at midnight if he promised -to do so. But I have waited in vain for the signal agreed upon; and I -cannot guess what has delayed him. For as a rule he is punctual, as we -old men are wont, to be, something that you young men nowadays look -upon as old-fashioned. But he has left me in the lurch for once: how -annoying it is! Come away with me! It's time to go!" - -At this moment something happened. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[6] It will be apparent from these words that Nietzsche is still under -the influence of Schopenhauer.--TR. - -[7] This prophecy has come true.--TR. - -[8] _Phaedrus_; Jowett's translation. - - - - -FIFTH LECTURE. - -(_Delivered on the 23rd of March 1872._) - - -LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,--If you have lent a sympathetic ear to what I -have told you about the heated argument of our philosopher in the -stillness of that memorable night, you must have felt as disappointed -as we did when he announced his peevish intention. You will remember -that he had suddenly told us he wished to go; for, having been left in -the lurch by his friend in the first place, and, in the second, having -been bored rather than animated by the remarks addressed to him by his -companion and ourselves when walking backwards and forwards on the -hillside, he now apparently wanted to put an end to what appeared to -him to be a useless discussion. It must have seemed to him that his -day had been lost, and he would have liked to blot it out of his -memory, together with the recollection of ever having made our -acquaintance. And we were thus rather unwillingly preparing to depart -when something else suddenly brought him to a standstill, and the foot -he had just raised sank hesitatingly to the ground again. - -A coloured flame, making a crackling noise for a few seconds, -attracted our attention from the direction of the Rhine; and -immediately following upon this we heard a slow, harmonious call, -quite in tune, although plainly the cry of numerous youthful voices. -"That's his signal," exclaimed the philosopher, "so my friend is -really coming, and I haven't waited for nothing, after all. It will be -a midnight meeting indeed--but how am I to let him know that I am -still here? Come! Your pistols; let us see your talent once again! Did -you hear the severe rhythm of that melody saluting us? Mark it well, -and answer it in the same rhythm by a series of shots." - -This was a task well suited to our tastes and abilities; so we loaded -up as quickly as we could and pointed our weapons at the brilliant -stars in the heavens, whilst the echo of that piercing cry died away -in the distance. The reports of the first, second, and third shots -sounded sharply in the stillness; and then the philosopher cried -"False time!" as our rhythm was suddenly interrupted: for, like a -lightning flash, a shooting star tore its way across the clouds after -the third report, and almost involuntarily our fourth and fifth shots -were sent after it in the direction it had taken. - -"False time!" said the philosopher again, "who told you to shoot -stars! They can fall well enough without you! People should know what -they want before they begin to handle weapons." - -And then we once more heard that loud melody from the waters of the -Rhine, intoned by numerous and strong voices. "They understand us," -said the philosopher, laughing, "and who indeed could resist when -such a dazzling phantom comes within range?" "Hush!" interrupted his -friend, "what sort of a company can it be that returns the signal to -us in such a way? I should say they were between twenty and forty -strong, manly voices in that crowd--and where would such a number come -from to greet us? They don't appear to have left the opposite bank of -the Rhine yet; but at any rate we must have a look at them from our -own side of the river. Come along, quickly!" - -We were then standing near the top of the hill, you may remember, and -our view of the river was interrupted by a dark, thick wood. On the -other hand, as I have told you, from the quiet little spot which we -had left we could have a better view than from the little plateau on -the hillside; and the Rhine, with the island of Nonnenwörth in the -middle, was just visible to the beholder who peered over the -tree-tops. We therefore set off hastily towards this little spot, -taking care, however, not to go too quickly for the philosopher's -comfort. The night was pitch dark, and we seemed to find our way by -instinct rather than by clearly distinguishing the path, as we walked -down with the philosopher in the middle. - -We had scarcely reached our side of the river when a broad and fiery, -yet dull and uncertain light shot up, which plainly came from the -opposite side of the Rhine. "Those are torches," I cried, "there is -nothing surer than that my comrades from Bonn are over yonder, and -that your friend must be with them. It is they who sang that peculiar -song, and they have doubtless accompanied your friend here. See! -Listen! They are putting off in little boats. The whole torchlight -procession will have arrived here in less than half an hour." - -The philosopher jumped back. "What do you say?" he ejaculated, "your -comrades from Bonn--students--can my friend have come here with -_students_?" - -This question, uttered almost wrathfully, provoked us. "What's your -objection to students?" we demanded; but there was no answer. It was -only after a pause that the philosopher slowly began to speak, not -addressing us directly, as it were, but rather some one in the -distance: "So, my friend, even at midnight, even on the top of a -lonely mountain, we shall not be alone; and you yourself are bringing -a pack of mischief-making students along with you, although you well -know that I am only too glad to get out of the way of _hoc genus -omne_. I don't quite understand you, my friend: it must mean something -when we arrange to meet after a long separation at such an -out-of-the-way place and at such an unusual hour. Why should we want a -crowd of witnesses--and such witnesses! What calls us together to-day -is least of all a sentimental, soft-hearted necessity; for both of us -learnt early in life to live alone in dignified isolation. It was not -for our own sakes, not to show our tender feelings towards each other, -or to perform an unrehearsed act of friendship, that we decided to -meet here; but that here, where I once came suddenly upon you as you -sat in majestic solitude, we might earnestly deliberate with each -other like knights of a new order. Let them listen to us who can -understand us; but why should you bring with you a throng of people -who don't understand us! I don't know what you mean by such a thing, -my friend!" - -We did not think it proper to interrupt the dissatisfied old grumbler; -and as he came to a melancholy close we did not dare to tell him how -greatly this distrustful repudiation of students vexed us. - -At last the philosopher's companion turned to him and said: "I am -reminded of the fact that even you at one time, before I made your -acquaintance, occupied posts in several universities, and that reports -concerning your intercourse with the students and your methods of -instruction at the time are still in circulation. From the tone of -resignation in which you have just referred to students many would be -inclined to think that you had some peculiar experiences which were -not at all to your liking; but personally I rather believe that you -saw and experienced in such places just what every one else saw and -experienced in them, but that you judged what you saw and felt more -justly and severely than any one else. For, during the time I have -known you, I have learnt that the most noteworthy, instructive, and -decisive experiences and events in one's life are those which are of -daily occurrence; that the greatest riddle, displayed in full view of -all, is seen by the fewest to be the greatest riddle, and that these -problems are spread about in every direction, under the very feet of -the passers-by, for the few real philosophers to lift up carefully, -thenceforth to shine as diamonds of wisdom. Perhaps, in the short time -now left us before the arrival of your friend, you will be good enough -to tell us something of your experiences of university life, so as to -close the circle of observations, to which we were involuntarily -urged, respecting our educational institutions. We may also be allowed -to remind you that you, at an earlier stage of your remarks, gave me -the promise that you would do so. Starting with the public school, you -claimed for it an extraordinary importance: all other institutions -must be judged by its standard, according as its aim has been -proposed; and, if its aim happens to be wrong, all the others have to -suffer. Such an importance cannot now be adopted by the universities -as a standard; for, by their present system of grouping, they would be -nothing more than institutions where public school students might go -through finishing courses. You promised me that you would explain this -in greater detail later on: perhaps our student friends can bear -witness to that, if they chanced to overhear that part of our -conversation." - -"We can testify to that," I put in. The philosopher then turned to us -and said: "Well, if you really did listen attentively, perhaps you can -now tell me what you understand by the expression 'the present aim of -our public schools.' Besides, you are still near enough to this sphere -to judge my opinions by the standard of your own impressions and -experiences." - -My friend instantly answered, quickly and smartly, as was his habit, -in the following words: "Until now we had always thought that the sole -object of the public school was to prepare students for the -universities. This preparation, however, should tend to make us -independent enough for the extraordinarily free position of a -university student;[9] for it seems to me that a student, to a greater -extent than any other individual, has more to decide and settle for -himself. He must guide himself on a wide, utterly unknown path for -many years, so the public school must do its best to render him -independent." - -I continued the argument where my friend left off. "It even seems to -me," I said, "that everything for which you have justly blamed the -public school is only a necessary means employed to imbue the youthful -student with some kind of independence, or at all events with the -belief that there is such a thing. The teaching of German composition -must be at the service of this independence: the individual must enjoy -his opinions and carry out his designs early, so that he may be able -to travel alone and without crutches. In this way he will soon be -encouraged to produce original work, and still sooner to take up -criticism and analysis. If Latin and Greek studies prove insufficient -to make a student an enthusiastic admirer of antiquity, the methods -with which such studies are pursued are at all events sufficient to -awaken the scientific sense, the desire for a more strict causality of -knowledge, the passion for finding out and inventing. Only think how -many young men may be lured away for ever to the attractions of -science by a new reading of some sort which they have snatched up with -youthful hands at the public school! The public school boy must learn -and collect a great deal of varied information: hence an impulse will -gradually be created, accompanied with which he will continue to learn -and collect independently at the university. We believe, in short, -that the aim of the public school is to prepare and accustom the -student always to live and learn independently afterwards, just as -beforehand he must live and learn dependently at the public school." - -The philosopher laughed, not altogether good-naturedly, and said: "You -have just given me a fine example of that independence. And it is this -very independence that shocks me so much, and makes any place in the -neighbourhood of present-day students so disagreeable to me. Yes, my -good friends, you are perfect, you are mature; nature has cast you and -broken up the moulds, and your teachers must surely gloat over you. -What liberty, certitude, and independence of judgment; what novelty -and freshness of insight! You sit in judgment--and the cultures of all -ages run away. The scientific sense is kindled, and rises out of you -like a flame--let people be careful, lest you set them alight! If I go -further into the question and look at your professors, I again find -the same independence in a greater and even more charming degree: -never was there a time so full of the most sublime independent folk, -never was slavery more detested, the slavery of education and culture -included. - -"Permit me, however, to measure this independence of yours by the -standard of this culture, and to consider your university as an -educational institution and nothing else. If a foreigner desires to -know something of the methods of our universities, he asks first of -all with emphasis: 'How is the student connected with the university?' -We answer: 'By the ear, as a hearer.' The foreigner is astonished. -'Only by the ear?' he repeats. 'Only by the ear,' we again reply. The -student hears. When he speaks, when he sees, when he is in the company -of his companions when he takes up some branch of art: in short, when -he _lives_ he is independent, _i.e._ not dependent upon the -educational institution. The student very often writes down something -while he hears; and it is only at these rare moments that he hangs to -the umbilical cord of his alma mater. He himself may choose what he is -to listen to; he is not bound to believe what is said; he may close -his ears if he does not care to hear. This is the 'acroamatic' method -of teaching. - -"The teacher, however, speaks to these listening students. Whatever -else he may think and do is cut off from the student's perception by -an immense gap. The professor often reads when he is speaking. As a -rule he wishes to have as many hearers as possible; he is not content -to have a few, and he is never satisfied with one only. One speaking -mouth, with many ears, and half as many writing hands--there you have -to all appearances, the external academical apparatus; the university -engine of culture set in motion. Moreover, the proprietor of this one -mouth is severed from and independent of the owners of the many ears; -and this double independence is enthusiastically designated as -'academical freedom.' And again, that this freedom may be broadened -still more, the one may speak what he likes and the other may hear -what he likes; except that, behind both of them, at a modest distance, -stands the State, with all the intentness of a supervisor, to remind -the professors and students from time to time that _it_ is the aim, -the goal, the be-all and end-all, of this curious speaking and hearing -procedure. - -"We, who must be permitted to regard this phenomenon merely as an -educational institution, will then inform the inquiring foreigner that -what is called 'culture' in our universities merely proceeds from the -mouth to the ear, and that every kind of training for culture is, as I -said before, merely 'acroamatic.' Since, however, not only the -hearing, but also the choice of what to hear is left to the -independent decision of the liberal-minded and unprejudiced student, -and since, again, he can withhold all belief and authority from what -he hears, all training for culture, in the true sense of the term, -reverts to himself; and the independence it was thought desirable to -aim at in the public school now presents itself with the highest -possible pride as 'academical self-training for culture,' and struts -about in its brilliant plumage. - -"Happy times, when youths are clever and cultured enough to teach -themselves how to walk! Unsurpassable public schools, which succeed in -implanting independence in the place of the dependence, discipline, -subordination, and obedience implanted by former generations that -thought it their duty to drive away all the bumptiousness of -independence! Do you clearly see, my good friends, why I, from the -standpoint of culture, regard the present type of university as a mere -appendage to the public school? The culture instilled by the public -school passes through the gates of the university as something ready -and entire, and with its own particular claims: _it_ demands, it gives -laws, it sits in judgment. Do not, then, let yourselves be deceived in -regard to the cultured student; for he, in so far as he thinks he has -absorbed the blessings of education, is merely the public school boy -as moulded by the hands of his teacher: one who, since his academical -isolation, and after he has left the public school, has therefore been -deprived of all further guidance to culture, that from now on he may -begin to live by himself and be free. - -"Free! Examine this freedom, ye observers of human nature! Erected -upon the sandy, crumbling foundation of our present public school -culture, its building slants to one side, trembling before the -whirlwind's blast. Look at the free student, the herald of -self-culture: guess what his instincts are; explain him from his -needs! How does his culture appear to you when you measure it by three -graduated scales: first, by his need for philosophy; second, by his -instinct for art; and third, by Greek and Roman antiquity as the -incarnate categorical imperative of all culture? - -"Man is so much encompassed about by the most serious and difficult -problems that, when they are brought to his attention in the right -way, he is impelled betimes towards a lasting kind of philosophical -wonder, from which alone, as a fruitful soil, a deep and noble culture -can grow forth. His own experiences lead him most frequently to the -consideration of these problems; and it is especially in the -tempestuous period of youth that every personal event shines with a -double gleam, both as the exemplification of a triviality and, at the -same time, of an eternally surprising problem, deserving of -explanation. At this age, which, as it were, sees his experiences -encircled with metaphysical rainbows, man is, in the highest degree, -in need of a guiding hand, because he has suddenly and almost -instinctively convinced himself of the ambiguity of existence, and has -lost the firm support of the beliefs he has hitherto held. - -"This natural state of great need must of course be looked upon as the -worst enemy of that beloved independence for which the cultured youth -of the present day should be trained. All these sons of the present, -who have raised the banner of the 'self-understood,' are therefore -straining every nerve to crush down these feelings of youth, to -cripple them, to mislead them, or to stop their growth altogether; -and the favourite means employed is to paralyse that natural -philosophic impulse by the so-called "historical culture." A still -recent system,[10] which has won for itself a world-wide scandalous -reputation, has discovered the formula for this self-destruction of -philosophy; and now, wherever the historical view of things is found, -we can see such a naive recklessness in bringing the irrational to -'rationality' and 'reason' and making black look like white, that one -is even inclined to parody Hegel's phrase and ask: 'Is all this -irrationality real?' Ah, it is only the irrational that now seems to -be 'real,' _i.e._ really doing something; and to bring this kind of -reality forward for the elucidation of history is reckoned as true -'historical culture.' It is into this that the philosophical impulse -of our time has pupated itself; and the peculiar philosophers of our -universities seem to have conspired to fortify and confirm the young -academicians in it. - -"It has thus come to pass that, in place of a profound interpretation -of the eternally recurring problems, a historical--yea, even -philological--balancing and questioning has entered into the -educational arena: what this or that philosopher has or has not -thought; whether this or that essay or dialogue is to be ascribed to -him or not; or even whether this particular reading of a classical -text is to be preferred to that. It is to neutral preoccupations with -philosophy like these that our students in philosophical seminaries -are stimulated; whence I have long accustomed myself to regard such -science as a mere ramification of philology, and to value its -representatives in proportion as they are good or bad philologists. So -it has come about that _philosophy itself_ is banished from the -universities: wherewith our first question as to the value of our -universities from the standpoint of culture is answered. - -"In what relationship these universities stand to _art_ cannot be -acknowledged without shame: in none at all. Of artistic thinking, -learning, striving, and comparison, we do not find in them a single -trace; and no one would seriously think that the voice of the -universities would ever be raised to help the advancement of the -higher national schemes of art. Whether an individual teacher feels -himself to be personally qualified for art, or whether a professorial -chair has been established for the training of æstheticising literary -historians, does not enter into the question at all: the fact remains -that the university is not in a position to control the young -academician by severe artistic discipline, and that it must let happen -what happens, willy-nilly--and this is the cutting answer to the -immodest pretensions of the universities to represent themselves as -the highest educational institutions. - -"We find our academical 'independents' growing up without philosophy -and without art; and how can they then have any need to 'go in for' -the Greeks and Romans?--for we need now no longer pretend, like our -forefathers, to have any great regard for Greece and Rome, which, -besides, sit enthroned in almost inaccessible loneliness and majestic -alienation. The universities of the present time consequently give no -heed to almost extinct educational predilections like these, and found -their philological chairs for the training of new and exclusive -generations of philologists, who on their part give similar -philological preparation in the public schools--a vicious circle which -is useful neither to philologists nor to public schools, but which -above all accuses the university for the third time of not being what -it so pompously proclaims itself to be--a training ground for culture. -Take away the Greeks, together with philosophy and art, and what -ladder have you still remaining by which to ascend to culture? For, if -you attempt to clamber up the ladder without these helps, you must -permit me to inform you that all your learning will lie like a heavy -burden on your shoulders rather than furnishing you with wings and -bearing you aloft. - -"If you honest thinkers have honourably remained in these three stages -of intelligence, and have perceived that, in comparison with the -Greeks, the modern student is unsuited to and unprepared for -philosophy, that he has no truly artistic instincts, and is merely a -barbarian believing himself to be free, you will not on this account -turn away from him in disgust, although you will, of course, avoid -coming into too close proximity with him. For, as he now is, _he is -not to blame_: as you have perceived him he is the dumb but terrible -accuser of those who are to blame. - -"You should understand the secret language spoken by this guilty -innocent, and then you, too, would learn to understand the inward -state of that independence which is paraded outwardly with so much -ostentation. Not one of these noble, well-qualified youths has -remained a stranger to that restless, tiring, perplexing, and -debilitating need of culture: during his university term, when he is -apparently the only free man in a crowd of servants and officials, he -atones for this huge illusion of freedom by ever-growing inner doubts -and convictions. He feels that he can neither lead nor help himself; -and then he plunges hopelessly into the workaday world and endeavours -to ward off such feelings by study. The most trivial bustle fastens -itself upon him; he sinks under his heavy burden. Then he suddenly -pulls himself together; he still feels some of that power within him -which would have enabled him to keep his head above water. Pride and -noble resolutions assert themselves and grow in him. He is afraid of -sinking at this early stage into the limits of a narrow profession; -and now he grasps at pillars and railings alongside the stream that he -may not be swept away by the current. In vain! for these supports give -way, and he finds he has clutched at broken reeds. In low and -despondent spirits he sees his plans vanish away in smoke. His -condition is undignified, even dreadful: he keeps between the two -extremes of work at high pressure and a state of melancholy -enervation. Then he becomes tired, lazy, afraid of work, fearful of -everything great; and hating himself. He looks into his own breast, -analyses his faculties, and finds he is only peering into hollow and -chaotic vacuity. And then he once more falls from the heights of his -eagerly-desired self-knowledge into an ironical scepticism. He divests -his struggles of their real importance, and feels himself ready to -undertake any class of useful work, however degrading. He now seeks -consolation in hasty and incessant action so as to hide himself from -himself. And thus his helplessness and the want of a leader towards -culture drive him from one form of life into another: but doubt, -elevation, worry, hope, despair--everything flings him hither and -thither as a proof that all the stars above him by which he could have -guided his ship have set. - -"There you have the picture of this glorious independence of yours, of -that academical freedom, reflected in the highest minds--those which -are truly in need of culture, compared with whom that other crowd of -indifferent natures does not count at all, natures that delight in -their freedom in a purely barbaric sense. For these latter show by -their base smugness and their narrow professional limitations that -this is the right element for them: against which there is nothing to -be said. Their comfort, however, does not counter-balance the -suffering of one single young man who has an inclination for culture -and feels the need of a guiding hand, and who at last, in a moment of -discontent, throws down the reins and begins to despise himself. This -is the guiltless innocent; for who has saddled him with the -unbearable burden of standing alone? Who has urged him on to -independence at an age when one of the most natural and peremptory -needs of youth is, so to speak, a self-surrendering to great leaders -and an enthusiastic following in the footsteps of the masters? - -"It is repulsive to consider the effects to which the violent -suppression of such noble natures may lead. He who surveys the -greatest supporters and friends of that pseudo-culture of the present -time, which I so greatly detest, will only too frequently find among -them such degenerate and shipwrecked men of culture, driven by inward -despair to violent enmity against culture, when, in a moment of -desperation, there was no one at hand to show them how to attain it. -It is not the worst and most insignificant people whom we afterwards -find acting as journalists and writers for the press in the -metamorphosis of despair: the spirit of some well-known men of letters -might even be described, and justly, as degenerate studentdom. How -else, for example, can we reconcile that once well-known 'young -Germany' with its present degenerate successors? Here we discover a -need of culture which, so to speak, has grown mutinous, and which -finally breaks out into the passionate cry: I am culture! There, -before the gates of the public schools and universities, we can see -the culture which has been driven like a fugitive away from these -institutions. True, this culture is without the erudition of those -establishments, but assumes nevertheless the mien of a sovereign; so -that, for example, Gutzkow the novelist might be pointed to as the -best example of a modern public school boy turned æsthete. Such a -degenerate man of culture is a serious matter, and it is a horrifying -spectacle for us to see that all our scholarly and journalistic -publicity bears the stigma of this degeneracy upon it. How else can we -do justice to our learned men, who pay untiring attention to, and even -co-operate in the journalistic corruption of the people, how else than -by the acknowledgment that their learning must fill a want of their -own similar to that filled by novel-writing in the case of others: -_i.e._ a flight from one's self, an ascetic extirpation of their -cultural impulses, a desperate attempt to annihilate their own -individuality. From our degenerate literary art, as also from that -itch for scribbling of our learned men which has now reached such -alarming proportions, wells forth the same sigh: Oh that we could -forget ourselves! The attempt fails: memory, not yet suffocated by the -mountains of printed paper under which it is buried, keeps on -repeating from time to time: 'A degenerate man of culture! Born for -culture and brought up to non-culture! Helpless barbarian, slave of -the day, chained to the present moment, and thirsting for -something--ever thirsting!' - -"Oh, the miserable guilty innocents! For they lack something, a need -that every one of them must have felt: a real educational institution, -which could give them goals, masters, methods, companions; and from -the midst of which the invigorating and uplifting breath of the true -German spirit would inspire them. Thus they perish in the wilderness; -thus they degenerate into enemies of that spirit which is at bottom -closely allied to their own; thus they pile fault upon fault higher -than any former generation ever did, soiling the clean, desecrating -the holy, canonising the false and spurious. It is by them that you -can judge the educational strength of our universities, asking -yourselves, in all seriousness, the question: What cause did you -promote through them? The German power of invention, the noble German -desire for knowledge, the qualifying of the German for diligence and -self-sacrifice--splendid and beautiful things, which other nations -envy you; yea, the finest and most magnificent things in the world, if -only that true German spirit overspread them like a dark thundercloud, -pregnant with the blessing of forthcoming rain. But you are afraid of -this spirit, and it has therefore come to pass that a cloud of another -sort has thrown a heavy and oppressive atmosphere around your -universities, in which your noble-minded scholars breathe wearily and -with difficulty. - -"A tragic, earnest, and instructive attempt was made in the present -century to destroy the cloud I have last referred to, and also to turn -the people's looks in the direction of the high welkin of the German -spirit. In all the annals of our universities we cannot find any trace -of a second attempt, and he who would impressively demonstrate what is -now necessary for us will never find a better example. I refer to the -old, primitive _Burschenschaft_.[11] - -"When the war of liberation was over, the young student brought back -home the unlooked-for and worthiest trophy of battle--the freedom of -his fatherland. Crowned with this laurel he thought of something still -nobler. On returning to the university, and finding that he was -breathing heavily, he became conscious of that oppressive and -contaminated air which overhung the culture of the university. He -suddenly saw, with horror-struck, wide-open eyes, the non-German -barbarism, hiding itself in the guise of all kinds of scholasticism; -he suddenly discovered that his own leaderless comrades were abandoned -to a repulsive kind of youthful intoxication. And he was exasperated. -He rose with the same aspect of proud indignation as Schiller may have -had when reciting the _Robbers_ to his companions: and if he had -prefaced his drama with the picture of a lion, and the motto, 'in -tyrannos,' his follower himself was that very lion preparing to -spring; and every 'tyrant' began to tremble. Yes, if these indignant -youths were looked at superficially and timorously, they would seem to -be little else than Schiller's robbers: their talk sounded so wild to -the anxious listener that Rome and Sparta seemed mere nunneries -compared with these new spirits. The consternation raised by these -young men was indeed far more general than had ever been caused by -those other 'robbers' in court circles, of which a German prince, -according to Goethe, is said to have expressed the opinion: 'If he had -been God, and had foreseen the appearance of the _Robbers_, he would -not have created the world.' - -"Whence came the incomprehensible intensity of this alarm? For those -young men were the bravest, purest, and most talented of the band both -in dress and habits: they were distinguished by a magnanimous -recklessness and a noble simplicity. A divine command bound them -together to seek harder and more pious superiority: what could be -feared from them? To what extent this fear was merely deceptive or -simulated or really true is something that will probably never be -exactly known; but a strong instinct spoke out of this fear and out of -its disgraceful and senseless persecution. This instinct hated the -Burschenschaft with an intense hatred for two reasons: first of all on -account of its organisation, as being the first attempt to construct a -true educational institution, and, secondly, on account of the spirit -of this institution, that earnest, manly, stern, and daring German -spirit; that spirit of the miner's son, Luther, which has come down to -us unbroken from the time of the Reformation. - -"Think of the _fate_ of the Burschenschaft when I ask you, Did the -German university then understand that spirit, as even the German -princes in their hatred appear to have understood it? Did the alma -mater boldly and resolutely throw her protecting arms round her noble -sons and say: 'You must kill me first, before you touch my children?' -I hear your answer--by it you may judge whether the German university -is an educational institution or not. - -"The student knew at that time at what depth a true educational -institution must take root, namely, in an inward renovation and -inspiration of the purest moral faculties. And this must always be -repeated to the student's credit. He may have learnt on the field of -battle what he could learn least of all in the sphere of 'academical -freedom': that great leaders are necessary, and that all culture begins -with obedience. And in the midst of victory, with his thoughts turned to -his liberated fatherland, he made the vow that he would remain German. -German! Now he learnt to understand his Tacitus; now he grasped the -signification of Kant's categorical imperative; now he was enraptured by -Weber's "Lyre and Sword" songs.[12] The gates of philosophy, of art, -yea, even of antiquity, opened unto him; and in one of the most -memorable of bloody acts, the murder of Kotzebue, he revenged--with -penetrating insight and enthusiastic short-sightedness--his one and only -Schiller, prematurely consumed by the opposition of the stupid world: -Schiller, who could have been his leader, master, and organiser, and -whose loss he now bewailed with such heartfelt resentment. - -"For that was the doom of those promising students: they did not find -the leaders they wanted. They gradually became uncertain, -discontented, and at variance among themselves; unlucky indiscretions -showed only too soon that the one indispensability of powerful minds -was lacking in the midst of them: and, while that mysterious murder -gave evidence of astonishing strength, it gave no less evidence of the -grave danger arising from the want of a leader. They were -leaderless--therefore they perished. - -"For I repeat it, my friends! All culture begins with the very -opposite of that which is now so highly esteemed as 'academical -freedom': with obedience, with subordination, with discipline, with -subjection. And as leaders must have followers so also must the -followers have a leader--here a certain reciprocal predisposition -prevails in the hierarchy of spirits: yea, a kind of pre-established -harmony. This eternal hierarchy, towards which all things naturally -tend, is always threatened by that pseudo-culture which now sits on -the throne of the present. It endeavours either to bring the leaders -down to the level of its own servitude or else to cast them out -altogether. It seduces the followers when they are seeking their -predestined leader, and overcomes them by the fumes of its narcotics. -When, however, in spite of all this, leader and followers have at last -met, wounded and sore, there is an impassioned feeling of rapture, -like the echo of an ever-sounding lyre, a feeling which I can let you -divine only by means of a simile. - -"Have you ever, at a musical rehearsal, looked at the strange, -shrivelled-up, good-natured species of men who usually form the German -orchestra? What changes and fluctuations we see in that capricious -goddess 'form'! What noses and ears, what clumsy, _danse macabre_ -movements! Just imagine for a moment that you were deaf, and had never -dreamed of the existence of sound or music, and that you were looking -upon the orchestra as a company of actors, and trying to enjoy their -performance as a drama and nothing more. Undisturbed by the idealising -effect of the sound, you could never see enough of the stern, -medieval, wood-cutting movement of this comical spectacle, this -harmonious parody on the _homo sapiens_. - -"Now, on the other hand, assume that your musical sense has returned, -and that your ears are opened. Look at the honest conductor at the -head of the orchestra performing his duties in a dull, spiritless -fashion: you no longer think of the comical aspect of the whole scene, -you listen--but it seems to you that the spirit of tediousness spreads -out from the honest conductor over all his companions. Now you see -only torpidity and flabbiness, you hear only the trivial, the -rhythmically inaccurate, and the melodiously trite. You see the -orchestra only as an indifferent, ill-humoured, and even wearisome -crowd of players. - -"But set a genius--a real genius--in the midst of this crowd; and you -instantly perceive something almost incredible. It is as if this -genius, in his lightning transmigration, had entered into these -mechanical, lifeless bodies, and as if only one demoniacal eye gleamed -forth out of them all. Now look and listen--you can never listen -enough! When you again observe the orchestra, now loftily storming, -now fervently wailing, when you notice the quick tightening of every -muscle and the rhythmical necessity of every gesture, then you too -will feel what a pre-established harmony there is between leader and -followers, and how in the hierarchy of spirits everything impels us -towards the establishment of a like organisation. You can divine from -my simile what I would understand by a true educational institution, -and why I am very far from recognising one in the present type of -university." - - [From a few MS. notes written down by Nietzsche in the spring - and autumn of 1872, and still preserved in the Nietzsche - Archives at Weimar, it is evident that he at one time - intended to add a sixth and seventh lecture to the five just - given. These notes, although included in the latest edition - of Nietzsche's works, are utterly lacking in interest and - continuity, being merely headings and sub-headings of - sections in the proposed lectures. They do not, indeed, - occupy more than two printed pages, and were deemed too - fragmentary for translation in this edition.] - -FOOTNOTES: - -[9] The reader may be reminded that a German university student is -subject to very few restrictions, and that much greater liberty is -allowed him than is permitted to English students. Nietzsche did not -approve of this extraordinary freedom, which, in his opinion, led to -intellectual lawlessness.--TR. - -[10] Hegel's.--TR. - -[11] A German students' association, of liberal principles, founded -for patriotic purposes at Jena in 1813. - -[12] Weber set one or two of Körner's "Lyre and Sword" songs to music. -The reader will remember that these lectures were delivered when -Nietzsche was only in his twenty-eighth year. Like Goethe, he -afterwards freed himself from all patriotic trammels and prejudices, -and aimed at a general European culture. Luther, Schiller, Kant, -Körner, and Weber did not continue to be the objects of his veneration -for long, indeed, they were afterwards violently attacked by him, and -the superficial student who speaks of inconsistency may be reminded of -Nietzsche's phrase in stanza 12 of the epilogue to _Beyond Good and -Evil_: "Nur wer sich wandelt, bleibt mit mir verwandt"; _i.e._ only -the changing ones have anything in common with me.--TR. - - * * * * * - - - - -HOMER AND CLASSICAL PHILOLOGY. - -(_Inaugural Address delivered at Bâle University, 28th of May 1869._) - - -At the present day no clear and consistent opinion seems to be held -regarding Classical Philology. We are conscious of this in the circles -of the learned just as much as among the followers of that science -itself. The cause of this lies in its many-sided character, in the lack -of an abstract unity, and in the inorganic aggregation of heterogeneous -scientific activities which are connected with one another only by the -name "Philology." It must be freely admitted that philology is to some -extent borrowed from several other sciences, and is mixed together like -a magic potion from the most outlandish liquors, ores, and bones. It may -even be added that it likewise conceals within itself an artistic -element, one which, on æsthetic and ethical grounds, may be called -imperatival--an element that acts in opposition to its purely scientific -behaviour. Philology is composed of history just as much as of natural -science or æsthetics: history, in so far as it endeavours to comprehend -the manifestations of the individualities of peoples in ever new -images, and the prevailing law in the disappearance of phenomena; -natural science, in so far as it strives to fathom the deepest instinct -of man, that of speech; æsthetics, finally, because from various -antiquities at our disposal it endeavours to pick out the so-called -"classical" antiquity, with the view and pretension of excavating the -ideal world buried under it, and to hold up to the present the mirror of -the classical and everlasting standards. That these wholly different -scientific and æsthetico-ethical impulses have been associated under a -common name, a kind of sham monarchy, is shown especially by the fact -that philology at every period from its origin onwards was at the same -time pedagogical. From the standpoint of the pedagogue, a choice was -offered of those elements which were of the greatest educational value; -and thus that science, or at least that scientific aim, which we call -philology, gradually developed out of the practical calling originated -by the exigencies of that science itself. - -These philological aims were pursued sometimes with greater ardour and -sometimes with less, in accordance with the degree of culture and the -development of the taste of a particular period; but, on the other hand, -the followers of this science are in the habit of regarding the aims -which correspond to their several abilities as _the_ aims of philology; -whence it comes about that the estimation of philology in public opinion -depends upon the weight of the personalities of the philologists! - -At the present time--that is to say, in a period which has seen men -distinguished in almost every department of philology--a general -uncertainty of judgment has increased more and more, and likewise a -general relaxation of interest and participation in philological -problems. Such an undecided and imperfect state of public opinion is -damaging to a science in that its hidden and open enemies can work with -much better prospects of success. And philology has a great many such -enemies. Where do we not meet with them, these mockers, always ready to -aim a blow at the philological "moles," the animals that practise -dust-eating _ex professo_, and that grub up and eat for the eleventh -time what they have already eaten ten times before. For opponents of -this sort, however, philology is merely a useless, harmless, and -inoffensive pastime, an object of laughter and not of hate. But, on the -other hand, there is a boundless and infuriated hatred of philology -wherever an ideal, as such, is feared, where the modern man falls down -to worship himself, and where Hellenism is looked upon as a superseded -and hence very insignificant point of view. Against these enemies, we -philologists must always count upon the assistance of artists and men of -artistic minds; for they alone can judge how the sword of barbarism -sweeps over the head of every one who loses sight of the unutterable -simplicity and noble dignity of the Hellene; and how no progress in -commerce or technical industries, however brilliant, no school -regulations, no political education of the masses, however widespread -and complete, can protect us from the curse of ridiculous and barbaric -offences against good taste, or from annihilation by the Gorgon head of -the classicist. - -Whilst philology as a whole is looked on with jealous eyes by these two -classes of opponents, there are numerous and varied hostilities in other -directions of philology; philologists themselves are quarrelling with -one another; internal dissensions are caused by useless disputes about -precedence and mutual jealousies, but especially by the -differences--even enmities--comprised in the name of philology, which -are not, however, by any means naturally harmonised instincts. - -Science has this in common with art, that the most ordinary, everyday -thing appears to it as something entirely new and attractive, as if -metamorphosed by witchcraft and now seen for the first time. Life is -worth living, says art, the beautiful temptress; life is worth knowing, -says science. With this contrast the so heartrending and dogmatic -tradition follows in a _theory_, and consequently in the practice of -classical philology derived from this theory. We may consider antiquity -from a scientific point of view; we may try to look at what has happened -with the eye of a historian, or to arrange and compare the linguistic -forms of ancient masterpieces, to bring them at all events under a -morphological law; but we always lose the wonderful creative force, the -real fragrance, of the atmosphere of antiquity; we forget that -passionate emotion which instinctively drove our meditation and -enjoyment back to the Greeks. From this point onwards we must take -notice of a clearly determined and very surprising antagonism which -philology has great cause to regret. From the circles upon whose help we -must place the most implicit reliance--the artistic friends of -antiquity, the warm supporters of Hellenic beauty and noble -simplicity--we hear harsh voices crying out that it is precisely the -philologists themselves who are the real opponents and destroyers of the -ideals of antiquity. Schiller upbraided the philologists with having -scattered Homer's laurel crown to the winds. It was none other than -Goethe who, in early life a supporter of Wolf's theories regarding -Homer, recanted in the verses-- - - With subtle wit you took away - Our former adoration: - The Iliad, you may us say, - Was mere conglomeration. - Think it not crime in any way: - Youth's fervent adoration - Leads us to know the verity, - And feel the poet's unity. - -The reason of this want of piety and reverence must lie deeper; and many -are in doubt as to whether philologists are lacking in artistic capacity -and impressions, so that they are unable to do justice to the ideal, or -whether the spirit of negation has become a destructive and iconoclastic -principle of theirs. When, however, even the friends of antiquity, -possessed of such doubts and hesitations, point to our present classical -philology as something questionable, what influence may we not ascribe -to the outbursts of the "realists" and the claptrap of the heroes of the -passing hour? To answer the latter on this occasion, especially when we -consider the nature of the present assembly, would be highly -injudicious; at any rate, if I do not wish to meet with the fate of -that sophist who, when in Sparta, publicly undertook to praise and -defend Herakles, when he was interrupted with the query: "But who then -has found fault with him?" I cannot help thinking, however, that some of -these scruples are still sounding in the ears of not a few in this -gathering; for they may still be frequently heard from the lips of noble -and artistically gifted men--as even an upright philologist must feel -them, and feel them most painfully, at moments when his spirits are -downcast. For the single individual there is no deliverance from the -dissensions referred to; but what we contend and inscribe on our banner -is the fact that classical philology, as a whole, has nothing whatsoever -to do with the quarrels and bickerings of its individual disciples. The -entire scientific and artistic movement of this peculiar centaur is -bent, though with cyclopic slowness, upon bridging over the gulf between -the ideal antiquity--which is perhaps only the magnificent blossoming of -the Teutonic longing for the south--and the real antiquity; and thus -classical philology pursues only the final end of its own being, which -is the fusing together of primarily hostile impulses that have only -forcibly been brought together. Let us talk as we will about the -unattainability of this goal, and even designate the goal itself as an -illogical pretension--the aspiration for it is very real; and I should -like to try to make it clear by an example that the most significant -steps of classical philology never lead away from the ideal antiquity, -but to it; and that, just when people are speaking unwarrantably of the -overthrow of sacred shrines, new and more worthy altars are being -erected. Let us then examine the so-called _Homeric question_ from this -standpoint, a question the most important problem of which Schiller -called a scholastic barbarism. - -The important problem referred to is _the question of the personality of -Homer_. - -We now meet everywhere with the firm opinion that the question of -Homer's personality is no longer timely, and that it is quite a -different thing from the real "Homeric question." It may be added that, -for a given period--such as our present philological period, for -example--the centre of discussion may be removed from the problem of the -poet's personality; for even now a painstaking experiment is being made -to reconstruct the Homeric poems without the aid of personality, -treating them as the work of several different persons. But if the -centre of a scientific question is rightly seen to be where the swelling -tide of new views has risen up, i.e. where individual scientific -investigation comes into contact with the whole life of science and -culture--if any one, in other words, indicates a historico-cultural -valuation as the central point of the question, he must also, in the -province of Homeric criticism, take his stand upon the question of -personality as being the really fruitful oasis in the desert of the -whole argument. For in Homer the modern world, I will not say has -learnt, but has examined, a great historical point of view; and, even -without now putting forward my own opinion as to whether this -examination has been or can be happily carried out, it was at all -events the first example of the application of that productive point of -view. By it scholars learnt to recognise condensed beliefs in the -apparently firm, immobile figures of the life of ancient peoples; by it -they for the first time perceived the wonderful capability of the soul -of a people to represent the conditions of its morals and beliefs in the -form of a personality. When historical criticism has confidently seized -upon this method of evaporating apparently concrete personalities, it is -permissible to point to the first experiment as an important event in -the history of sciences, without considering whether it was successful -in this instance or not. - -It is a common occurrence for a series of striking signs and wonderful -emotions to precede an epoch-making discovery. Even the experiment I -have just referred to has its own attractive history; but it goes back -to a surprisingly ancient era. Friedrich August Wolf has exactly -indicated the spot where Greek antiquity dropped the question. The -zenith of the historico-literary studies of the Greeks, and hence also -of their point of greatest importance--the Homeric question--was reached -in the age of the Alexandrian grammarians. Up to this time the Homeric -question had run through the long chain of a uniform process of -development, of which the standpoint of those grammarians seemed to be -the last link, the last, indeed, which was attainable by antiquity. They -conceived the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ as the creations of _one single_ -Homer; they declared it to be psychologically possible for two such -different works to have sprung from the brain of _one_ genius, in -contradiction to the Chorizontes, who represented the extreme limit of -the scepticism of a few detached individuals of antiquity rather than -antiquity itself considered as a whole. To explain the different general -impression of the two books on the assumption that _one_ poet composed -them both, scholars sought assistance by referring to the seasons of the -poet's life, and compared the poet of the _Odyssey_ to the setting sun. -The eyes of those critics were tirelessly on the lookout for -discrepancies in the language and thoughts of the two poems; but at this -time also a history of the Homeric poem and its tradition was prepared, -according to which these discrepancies were not due to Homer, but -to those who committed his words to writing and those who sang them. It -was believed that Homer's poem was passed from one generation to another -_viva voce_, and faults were attributed to the improvising and at times -forgetful bards. At a certain given date, about the time of Pisistratus, -the poems which had been repeated orally were said to have been -collected in manuscript form; but the scribes, it is added, allowed -themselves to take some liberties with the text by transposing some -lines and adding extraneous matter here and there. This entire -hypothesis is the most important in the domain of literary studies that -antiquity has exhibited; and the acknowledgment of the dissemination of -the Homeric poems by word of mouth, as opposed to the habits of a -book-learned age, shows in particular a depth of ancient sagacity worthy -of our admiration. From those times until the generation that produced -Friedrich August Wolf we must take a jump over a long historical vacuum; -but in our own age we find the argument left just as it was at the time -when the power of controversy departed from antiquity, and it is a -matter of indifference to us that Wolf accepted as certain tradition -what antiquity itself had set up only as a hypothesis. It may be -remarked as most characteristic of this hypothesis that, in the -strictest sense, the personality of Homer is treated seriously; that a -certain standard of inner harmony is everywhere presupposed in the -manifestations of the personality; and that, with these two excellent -auxiliary hypotheses, whatever is seen to be below this standard and -opposed to this inner harmony is at once swept aside as un-Homeric. But -even this distinguishing characteristic, in place of wishing to -recognise the supernatural existence of a tangible personality, ascends -likewise through all the stages that lead to that zenith, with -ever-increasing energy and clearness. Individuality is ever more -strongly felt and accentuated; the psychological possibility of a -_single_ Homer is ever more forcibly demanded. If we descend backwards -from this zenith, step by step, we find a guide to the understanding of -the Homeric problem in the person of Aristotle. Homer was for him the -flawless and untiring artist who knew his end and the means to attain -it; but there is still a trace of infantile criticism to be found in -Aristotle--i.e., in the naive concession he made to the public opinion -that considered Homer as the author of the original of all comic epics, -the _Margites_. If we go still further backwards from Aristotle, the -inability to create a personality is seen to increase; more and more -poems are attributed to Homer; and every period lets us see its degree -of criticism by how much and what it considers as Homeric. In this -backward examination, we instinctively feel that away beyond Herodotus -there lies a period in which an immense flood of great epics has been -identified with the name of Homer. - -Let us imagine ourselves as living in the time of Pisistratus: the word -"Homer" then comprehended an abundance of dissimilarities. What was -meant by "Homer" at that time? It is evident that that generation found -itself unable to grasp a personality and the limits of its -manifestations. Homer had now become of small consequence. And then we -meet with the weighty question: What lies before this period? Has -Homer's personality, because it cannot be grasped, gradually faded away -into an empty name? Or had all the Homeric poems been gathered together -in a body, the nation naively representing itself by the figure of -Homer? _Was the person created out of a conception, or the conception -out of a person?_ This is the real "Homeric question," the central -problem of the personality. - -The difficulty of answering this question, however, is increased when we -seek a reply in another direction, from the standpoint of the poems -themselves which have come down to us. As it is difficult for us at the -present day, and necessitates a serious effort on our part, to -understand the law of gravitation clearly--that the earth alters its -form of motion when another heavenly body changes its position in space, -although no material connection unites one to the other--it likewise -costs us some trouble to obtain a clear impression of that wonderful -problem which, like a coin long passed from hand to hand, has lost its -original and highly conspicuous stamp. Poetical works, which cause the -hearts of even the greatest geniuses to fail when they endeavour to vie -with them, and in which unsurpassable images are held up for the -admiration of posterity--and yet the poet who wrote them with only a -hollow, shaky name, whenever we do lay hold on him; nowhere the solid -kernel of a powerful personality. "For who would wage war with the gods: -who, even with the one god?" asks Goethe even, who, though a genius, -strove in vain to solve that mysterious problem of the Homeric -inaccessibility. - -The conception of popular poetry seemed to lead like a bridge over this -problem--a deeper and more original power than that of every single -creative individual was said to have become active; the happiest people, -in the happiest period of its existence, in the highest activity of -fantasy and formative power, was said to have created those immeasurable -poems. In this universality there is something almost intoxicating in -the thought of a popular poem: we feel, with artistic pleasure, the -broad, overpowering liberation of a popular gift, and we delight in this -natural phenomenon as we do in an uncontrollable cataract. But as soon -as we examine this thought at close quarters, we involuntarily put a -poetic _mass of people_ in the place of the poetising _soul of the -people_: a long row of popular poets in whom individuality has no -meaning, and in whom the tumultuous movement of a people's soul, the -intuitive strength of a people's eye, and the unabated profusion of a -people's fantasy, were once powerful: a row of original geniuses, -attached to a time, to a poetic genus, to a subject-matter. - -Such a conception justly made people suspicious. Could it be possible -that that same Nature who so sparingly distributed her rarest and most -precious production--genius--should suddenly take the notion of -lavishing her gifts in one sole direction? And here the thorny question -again made its appearance: Could we not get along with one genius only, -and explain the present existence of that unattainable excellence? And -now eyes were keenly on the lookout for whatever that excellence and -singularity might consist of. Impossible for it to be in the -construction of the complete works, said one party, for this is far from -faultless; but doubtless to be found in single songs: in the single -pieces above all; not in the whole. A second party, on the other hand, -sheltered themselves beneath the authority of Aristotle, who especially -admired Homer's "divine" nature in the choice of his entire subject, and -the manner in which he planned and carried it out. If, however, this -construction was not clearly seen, this fault was due to the way the -poems were handed down to posterity and not to the poet himself--it was -the result of retouchings and interpolations, owing to which the -original setting of the work gradually became obscured. The more the -first school looked for inequalities, contradictions, perplexities, the -more energetically did the other school brush aside what in their -opinion obscured the original plan, in order, if possible, that nothing -might be left remaining but the actual words of the original epic -itself. The second school of thought of course held fast by the -conception of an epoch-making genius as the composer of the great works. -The first school, on the other hand, wavered between the supposition of -one genius plus a number of minor poets, and another hypothesis which -assumed only a number of superior and even mediocre individual bards, -but also postulated a mysterious discharging, a deep, national, artistic -impulse, which shows itself in individual minstrels as an almost -indifferent medium. It is to this latter school that we must attribute -the representation of the Homeric poems as the expression of that -mysterious impulse. - -All these schools of thought start from the assumption that the problem -of the present form of these epics can be solved from the standpoint of -an æsthetic judgment--but we must await the decision as to the -authorised line of demarcation between the man of genius and the -poetical soul of the people. Are there characteristic differences -between the utterances of the _man of genius_ and the _poetical soul of -the people_? - -This whole contrast, however, is unjust and misleading. There is no -more dangerous assumption in modern æsthetics than that of _popular -poetry_ and _individual poetry_, or, as it is usually called, _artistic -poetry_. This is the reaction, or, if you will, the superstition, which -followed upon the most momentous discovery of historico-philological -science, the discovery and appreciation of the _soul of the people_. For -this discovery prepared the way for a coming scientific view of history, -which was until then, and in many respects is even now, a mere -collection of materials, with the prospect that new materials would -continue to be added, and that the huge, overflowing pile would never be -systematically arranged. The people now understood for the first time -that the long-felt power of greater individualities and wills was larger -than the pitifully small will of an individual man;[1] they now saw that -everything truly great in the kingdom of the will could not have its -deepest root in the inefficacious and ephemeral individual will; and, -finally, they now discovered the powerful instincts of the masses, and -diagnosed those unconscious impulses to be the foundations and supports -of the so-called universal history. But the newly-lighted flame also -cast its shadow: and this shadow was none other than that superstition -already referred to, which popular poetry set up in opposition to -individual poetry, and thus enlarged the comprehension of the people's -soul to that of the people's mind. By the misapplication of a tempting -analogical inference, people had reached the point of applying in the -domain of the intellect and artistic ideas that principle of greater -individuality which is truly applicable only in the domain of the will. -The masses have never experienced more flattering treatment than in thus -having the laurel of genius set upon their empty heads. It was imagined -that new shells were forming round a small kernel, so to speak, and that -those pieces of popular poetry originated like avalanches, in the drift -and flow of tradition. They were, however, ready to consider that kernel -as being of the smallest possible dimensions, so that they might -occasionally get rid of it altogether without losing anything of the -mass of the avalanche. According to this view, the text itself and the -stories built round it are one and the same thing. - -[1] Of course Nietzsche saw afterwards that this was not so.--TR. - -Now, however, such a contrast between popular poetry and individual -poetry does not exist at all; on the contrary, all poetry, and of course -popular poetry also, requires an intermediary individuality. This -much-abused contrast, therefore, is necessary only when the term -_individual poem_ is understood to mean a poem which has not grown out -of the soil of popular feeling, but which has been composed by a -non-popular poet in a non-popular atmosphere--something which has come -to maturity in the study of a learned man, for example. - -With the superstition which presupposes poetising masses is connected -another: that popular poetry is limited to one particular period of a -people's history and afterwards dies out--which indeed follows as a -consequence of the first superstition I have mentioned. According to -this school, in the place of the gradually decaying popular poetry we -have artistic poetry, the work of individual minds, not of masses of -people. But the same powers which were once active are still so; and the -form in which they act has remained exactly the same. The great poet of -a literary period is still a popular poet in no narrower sense than the -popular poet of an illiterate age. The difference between them is not in -the way they originate, but it is their diffusion and propagation, in -short, _tradition_. This tradition is exposed to eternal danger without -the help of handwriting, and runs the risk of including in the poems the -remains of those individualities through whose oral tradition they were -handed down. - -If we apply all these principles to the Homeric poems, it follows that -we gain nothing with our theory of the poetising soul of the people, and -that we are always referred back to the poetical individual. We are thus -confronted with the task of distinguishing that which can have -originated only in a single poetical mind from that which is, so to -speak, swept up by the tide of oral tradition, and which is a highly -important constituent part of the Homeric poems. - -Since literary history first ceased to be a mere collection of names, -people have attempted to grasp and formulate the individualities of the -poets. A certain mechanism forms part of the method: it must be -explained--i.e., it must be deduced from principles--why this or that -individuality appears in this way and not in that. People now study -biographical details, environment, acquaintances, contemporary events, -and believe that by mixing all these ingredients together they will be -able to manufacture the wished-for individuality. But they forget that -the _punctum saliens_, the indefinable individual characteristics, can -never be obtained from a compound of this nature. The less there is -known about the life and times of the poet, the less applicable is this -mechanism. When, however, we have merely the works and the name of the -writer, it is almost impossible to detect the individuality, at all -events, for those who put their faith in the mechanism in question; and -particularly when the works are perfect, when they are pieces of popular -poetry. For the best way for these mechanicians to grasp individual -characteristics is by perceiving deviations from the genius of the -people; the aberrations and hidden allusions: and the fewer -discrepancies to be found in a poem the fainter will be the traces of -the individual poet who composed it. - -All those deviations, everything dull and below the ordinary standard -which scholars think they perceive in the Homeric poems, were attributed -to tradition, which thus became the scapegoat. What was left of Homer's -own individual work? Nothing but a series of beautiful and prominent -passages chosen in accordance with subjective taste. The sum total of -æsthetic singularity which every individual scholar perceived with his -own artistic gifts, he now called Homer. - -This is the central point of the Homeric errors. The name of Homer, from -the very beginning, has no connection either with the conception of -æsthetic perfection or yet with the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_. Homer as -the composer of the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ is not a historical -tradition, but an _æsthetic judgment_. - -The only path which leads back beyond the time of Pisistratus and helps -us to elucidate the meaning of the name Homer, takes its way on the one -hand through the reports which have reached us concerning Homer's -birthplace: from which we see that, although his name is always -associated with heroic epic poems, he is on the other hand no more -referred to as the composer of the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ than as the -author of the _Thebais_ or any other cyclical epic. On the other hand, -again, an old tradition tells of the contest between Homer and Hesiod, -which proves that when these two names were mentioned people -instinctively thought of two epic tendencies, the heroic and the -didactic; and that the signification of the name "Homer" was included in -the material category and not in the formal. This imaginary contest with -Hesiod did not even yet show the faintest presentiment of individuality. -From the time of Pisistratus onwards, however, with the surprisingly -rapid development of the Greek feeling for beauty, the differences in -the æsthetic value of those epics continued to be felt more and more: -the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ arose from the depths of the flood and -have remained on the surface ever since. With this process of æsthetic -separation, the conception of Homer gradually became narrower: the old -material meaning of the name "Homer" as the father of the heroic epic -poem, was changed into the æsthetic meaning of Homer, the father of -poetry in general, and likewise its original prototype. This -transformation was contemporary with the rationalistic criticism which -made Homer the magician out to be a possible poet, which vindicated the -material and formal traditions of those numerous epics as against the -unity of the poet, and gradually removed that heavy load of cyclical -epics from Homer's shoulders. - -So Homer, the poet of the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_, is an æsthetic -judgment. It is, however, by no means affirmed against the poet of these -epics that he was merely the imaginary being of an æsthetic -impossibility, which can be the opinion of only very few philologists -indeed. The majority contend that a single individual was responsible -for the general design of a poem such as the _Iliad_, and further that -this individual was Homer. The first part of this contention may be -admitted; but, in accordance with what I have said, the latter part must -be denied. And I very much doubt whether the majority of those who adopt -the first part of the contention have taken the following considerations -into account. - -The design of an epic such as the _Iliad_ is not an entire _whole_, not -an organism; but a number of pieces strung together, a collection of -reflections arranged in accordance with æsthetic rules. It is certainly -the standard of an artist's greatness to note what he can take in with a -single glance and set out in rhythmical form. The infinite profusion of -images and incidents in the Homeric epic must force us to admit that -such a wide range of vision is next to impossible. Where, however, a -poet is unable to observe artistically with a single glance, he usually -piles conception on conception, and endeavours to adjust his characters -according to a comprehensive scheme. - -He will succeed in this all the better the more he is familiar with the -fundamental principles of æsthetics: he will even make some believe -that he made himself master of the entire subject by a single powerful -glance. - -The _Iliad_ is not a garland, but a bunch of flowers. As many pictures -as possible are crowded on one canvas; but the man who placed them there -was indifferent as to whether the grouping of the collected pictures was -invariably suitable and rhythmically beautiful. He well knew that no one -would ever consider the collection as a whole; but would merely look at -the individual parts. But that stringing together of some pieces as the -manifestations of a grasp of art which was not yet highly developed, -still less thoroughly comprehended and generally esteemed, cannot have -been the real Homeric deed, the real Homeric epoch-making event. On the -contrary, this design is a later product, far later than Homer's -celebrity. Those, therefore, who look for the "original and perfect -design" are looking for a mere phantom; for the dangerous path of oral -tradition had reached its end just as the systematic arrangement -appeared on the scene; the disfigurements which were caused on the way -could not have affected the design, for this did not form part of the -material handed down from generation to generation. - -The relative imperfection of the design must not, however, prevent us -from seeing in the designer a different personality from the real poet. -It is not only probable that everything which was created in those times -with conscious æsthetic insight, was infinitely inferior to the songs -that sprang up naturally in the poet's mind and were written down with -instinctive power: we can even take a step further. If we include the -so-called cyclic poems in this comparison, there remains for the -designer of the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ the indisputable merit of -having done something relatively great in this conscious technical -composing: a merit which we might have been prepared to recognise from -the beginning, and which is in my opinion of the very first order in the -domain of instinctive creation. We may even be ready to pronounce this -synthetisation of great importance. All those dull passages and -discrepancies--deemed of such importance, but really only subjective, -which we usually look upon as the petrified remains of the period of -tradition--are not these perhaps merely the almost necessary evils which -must fall to the lot of the poet of genius who undertakes a composition -virtually without a parallel, and, further, one which proves to be of -incalculable difficulty? - -Let it be noted that the insight into the most diverse operations of the -instinctive and the conscious changes the position of the Homeric -problem; and in my opinion throws light upon it. - -We believe in a great poet as the author of the _Iliad_ and the -_Odyssey--but not that Homer was this poet_. - -The decision on this point has already been given. The generation that -invented those numerous Homeric fables, that poetised the myth of the -contest between Homer and Hesiod, and looked upon all the poems of the -epic cycle as Homeric, did not feel an æsthetic but a material -singularity when it pronounced the name "Homer." This period regards -Homer as belonging to the ranks of artists like Orpheus, Eumolpus, -Dædalus, and Olympus, the mythical discoverers of a new branch of art, -to whom, therefore, all the later fruits which grew from the new branch -were thankfully dedicated. - -And that wonderful genius to whom we owe the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ -belongs to this thankful posterity: he, too, sacrificed his name on the -altar of the primeval father of the Homeric epic, Homeros. - -Up to this point, gentlemen, I think I have been able to put before you -the fundamental philosophical and æsthetic characteristics of the -problem of the personality of Homer, keeping all minor details -rigorously at a distance, on the supposition that the primary form of -this widespread and honeycombed mountain known as the Homeric question -can be most clearly observed by looking down at it from a far-off -height. But I have also, I imagine, recalled two facts to those friends -of antiquity who take such delight in accusing us philologists of lack -of piety for great conceptions and an unproductive zeal for -destruction. In the first place, those "great" conceptions--such, for -example, as that of the indivisible and inviolable poetic genius, -Homer--were during the pre-Wolfian period only too great, and hence -inwardly altogether empty and elusive when we now try to grasp them. If -classical philology goes back again to the same conceptions, and once -more tries to pour new wine into old bottles, it is only on the surface -that the conceptions are the same: everything has really become new; -bottle and mind, wine and word. We everywhere find traces of the fact -that philology has lived in company with poets, thinkers, and artists -for the last hundred years: whence it has now come about that the heap -of ashes formerly pointed to as classical philology is now turned into -fruitful and even rich soil.[2] - -[2] Nietzsche perceived later on that this statement was, -unfortunately, not justified.--TR. - -And there is a second fact which I should like to recall to the memory -of those friends of antiquity who turn their dissatisfied backs on -classical philology. You honour the immortal masterpieces of the -Hellenic mind in poetry and sculpture, and think yourselves so much more -fortunate than preceding generations, which had to do without them; but -you must not forget that this whole fairyland once lay buried under -mountains of prejudice, and that the blood and sweat and arduous labour -of innumerable followers of our science were all necessary to lift up -that world from the chasm into which it had sunk. We grant that -philology is not the creator of this world, not the composer of that -immortal music; but is it not a merit, and a great merit, to be a mere -virtuoso, and let the world for the first time hear that music which lay -so long in obscurity, despised and undecipherable? Who was Homer -previously to Wolf's brilliant investigations? A good old man, known at -best as a "natural genius," at all events the child of a barbaric age, -replete with faults against good taste and good morals. Let us hear how -a learned man of the first rank writes about Homer even so late as 1783: -"Where does the good man live? Why did he remain so long incognito? -Apropos, can't you get me a silhouette of him?" - -We demand _thanks_--not in our own name, for we are but atoms--but in -the name of philology itself, which is indeed neither a Muse nor a -Grace, but a messenger of the gods: and just as the Muses descended upon -the dull and tormented Boeotian peasants, so Philology comes into a -world full of gloomy colours and pictures, full of the deepest, most -incurable woes; and speaks to men comfortingly of the beautiful and -godlike figure of a distant, rosy, and happy fairyland. - -It is time to close; yet before I do so a few words of a personal -character must be added, justified, I hope, by the occasion of this -lecture. - -It is but right that a philologist should describe his end and the means -to it in the short formula of a confession of faith; and let this be -done in the saying of Seneca which I thus reverse-- - - "Philosophia facta est quæ philologia fuit." - -By this I wish to signify that all philological activities should be -enclosed and surrounded by a philosophical view of things, in which -everything individual and isolated is evaporated as something -detestable, and in which great homogeneous views alone remain. Now, -therefore, that I have enunciated my philological creed, I trust you -will give me cause to hope that I shall no longer be a stranger among -you: give me the assurance that in working with you towards this end I -am worthily fulfilling the confidence with which the highest authorities -of this community have honoured me. - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of On the Future of our Educational -Institutions - Homer and Classic, by Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FUTURE OF OUR EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS *** - -***** This file should be named 51580-0.txt or 51580-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/5/8/51580/ - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org -(Images generously made available by the Hathi Trust. - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: On the Future of our Educational Institutions - Homer and Classical Philology - Complete Works, Volume Three - -Author: Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche - -Editor: Oscar Levy - -Translator: J. M. Kennedy - -Release Date: March 28, 2016 [EBook #51580] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FUTURE OF OUR EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS *** - - - - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org -(Images generously made available by the Hathi Trust. - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="550" alt="" /> -</div> -<h1>ON THE FUTURE OF OUR</h1> - -<h1>EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS</h1> - -<h1>HOMER AND CLASSICAL PHILOLOGY</h1> - -<h3>By</h3> - -<h2>FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE</h2> - - -<h4>TRANSLATED, WITH INTRODUCTION, BY</h4> - -<h4>J.M. KENNEDY</h4> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> -<img src="images/ill_niet.jpg" width="150" alt="" /> -</div> - -<h4>The Complete Works of Friedrich Nietzsche</h4> - -<h5>The First Complete and Authorised English Translation</h5> - -<h4>Edited by Dr Oscar Levy</h4> - -<h4>Volume Three</h4> - - -<h5>T.N. FOULIS</h5> - -<h5>13 & 15 FREDERICK STREET</h5> - -<h5>EDINBURGH: AND LONDON</h5> - -<h5>1909</h5> -<hr class="full" /> - - - - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em;"> -<span class="caption">CONTENTS</span><br /> -<a href="#TRANSLATORS_INTRODUCTION">TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION</a><br /> -<a href="#PREFACE">AUTHOR'S PREFACE</a><br /> -<a href="#INTRODUCTION">AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION</a><br /> -<a href="#THE_FUTURE_OF_OUR_EDUCATIONAL_INSTITUTIONS">THE FUTURE OF OUR EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS</a><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><a href="#FIRST_LECTURE">FIRST LECTURE</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><a href="#SECOND_LECTURE">SECOND LECTURE</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><a href="#THIRD_LECTURE">THIRD LECTURE</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><a href="#FOURTH_LECTURE">FOURTH LECTURE</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><a href="#FIFTH_LECTURE">FIFTH LECTURE</a></span><br /> -<a href="#HOMER_AND_CLASSICAL_PHILOLOGY">HOMER AND CLASSICAL PHILOLOGY</a><br /> -</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="TRANSLATORS_INTRODUCTION" id="TRANSLATORS_INTRODUCTION">TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION.</a></h4> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> - - -<p>"On the Future of our Educational Institutions" comprehends a series -of five lectures delivered by Nietzsche when Professor of Classical -Philology at Băle University. As they were prepared when he was only -twenty-seven years of age, we can scarcely expect to find in them that -broad, "good European" point of view which we meet with in his later -works. These lectures, however, are not only highly interesting in -themselves; but indispensable for those who wish to trace the gradual -development of Nietzsche's thought.</p> - -<p>Nietzsche's aim, as is now pretty well known, was the elevation of the -type man. At this period of his life he believed that this end could -be best attained by the protection and careful development of men of -genius, Hence his antagonism in the following lectures towards the -purely time-serving German schools and colleges of his age, in which -culture was not only neglected but not even known—the one aim of the -teachers being to instruct the pupils in the art of "getting on," of -playing a successful part in the struggle for existence, of becoming -useful citizens. Of course, Nietzsche was too little of a wild reformer -to be adverse to a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span>schooling of this nature. He freely admits that -a bread-winning education is necessary for the majority, and that -officials are necessary to the State; but he adds that everything -learnt as a preparation for taking part in the commercial or political -battle of life has nothing to do with culture. True culture is only for -a few select minds, which it is necessary to bring together under the -protecting roof of an institution that shall prepare them for culture, -and for culture only. Such an institution, he goes on to say, does not -yet exist; but we must have it if the delicate flower of the German -mind is no longer to be choked by the noxious weeds which have gathered -round it. As instances of minds thus "choked," Nietzsche mentions -Lessing, Winckelmann, and Schiller.</p> - -<p>The standard of culture to be aimed at by the man of genius Nietzsche -had in mind was to be found in the model literary and artistic -works which have come down to us from ancient Greece. To understand -these works, of course, the classical authors had to be studied in -the original, and the methods of teaching then in vogue paid too -much attention to inconsequential points (<i>e.g.</i> variant readings) -instead of dealing with the subject in a broad-minded philosophical -spirit. Nietzsche endeavoured to counteract this tendency in the -"Homer and Classical Philology," his inaugural address at Băle -University, by outlining a much vaster conception of philology than -his fellow-teachers had ever dreamt of, laying stress upon the -<i>artistic</i> results which would accrue if the science were applied on a -wider scale—results <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span> -which would be of a much higher order than those -obtained by the narrow pedantry then prevailing.</p> - -<p>It is a very superficial comment on these lectures to say that -Nietzsche was merely referring to the German schools and colleges -of his time. It would be even shallower to suggest that his remarks -do not apply to the schools and teachers of present-day England and -America; for we likewise do not possess the cultural institution, the -<i>real</i> educational establishment, that Nietzsche longed for. Broadly -speaking, the English public schools, the older English universities, -and the American high schools, train their scholars to be useful to -the State: the modern universities and the remaining schools give that -instructionin bread-winning which Nietzsche admits to be necessary -for the majority; but in no case is an attempt made to pick out a few -higher minds and train them for culture. Our crude methods of teaching -the classical languages are too well known to be commented upon; and -an insight into classical antiquity, with the good taste, the firm -principles, and the lofty aims obtained therefrom, is exactly what -our various educational institutions do not aim at giving. Yet, as -Nietzsche truly says, no progress in any other direction, no matter -how brilliant, can deliver our students from the curse of an education -which adapts itself more and more to the needs of the age, and thus -loses all its power of guiding the age. Let the student who, as the -victim of this system, suffers more from it than his teachers care to -admit, read the paragraph on pp. 132 and 133 containing the sentences—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> -He feels that he can neither lead nor help himself.... His -condition is undignified, even dreadful: he keeps between -the two extremes of work at high pressure and a state of -melancholy enervation.... He seeks consolation in hasty and -incessant action so as to hide himself from himself, etc.,</p></blockquote> - -<p>and then let him confess that Nietzsche's insight into his psychology -is profound and decisive. The whole paragraph might have been written -by Nietzsche after a visit to present-day England.</p> - -<p>As bearing upon the same subject, the reader will find it interesting -to compare the lectures here translated with Matthew Arnold's prose -writings passim, particularly the <i>Essays in Criticism, Mixed Essays,</i> -and <i>Culture and Anarchy</i>.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 70%;">J. M. KENNEDY.</p> - -<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">LONDON, May 1909.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a><br /> -<a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></p> - - - -<h3><a id="THE_FUTURE_OF_OUR_EDUCATIONAL_INSTITUTIONS"></a>THE FUTURE OF OUR EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS</h3> - - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></p> -<h4><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE">PREFACE.</a></h4> - - -<p>The reader from whom I expect something must possess three qualities: -he must be calm and must read without haste; he must not be ever -interposing his own personality and his own special "culture"; and he -must not expect as the ultimate results of his study of these pages -that he will be presented with a set of new formulæ. I do not propose -to furnish formulæ or new plans of study for <i>Gymnasia</i> or other -schools; and I am much more inclined to admire the extraordinary power -of those who are able to cover the whole distance between the depths -of empiricism and the heights of special culture-problems, and who -again descend to the level of the driest rules and the most neatly -expressed formulæ. I shall be content if only I can ascend a tolerably -lofty mountain, from the summit of which, after having recovered my -breath, I may obtain a general survey of the ground; for I shall never -be able, in this book, to satisfy the votaries of tabulated rules. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> -Indeed, I see a time coming when serious men, working together in the -service of a completely rejuvenated and purified culture, may again -become the directors of a system of everyday instruction, calculated -to promote that culture; and they will probably be compelled once more -to draw up sets of rules: but how remote this time now seems! And what -may not happen meanwhile! It is just possible that between now and -then all <i>Gymnasia</i>—yea, and perhaps all universities, may be -destroyed, or have become so utterly transformed that their very -regulations may, in the eyes of future generations, seem to be but the -relics of the cave-dwellers' age.</p> - -<p>This book is intended for calm readers,—for men who have not yet been -drawn into the mad headlong rush of our hurry-skurrying age, and who -do not experience any idolatrous delight in throwing themselves -beneath its chariot-wheels. It is for men, therefore, who are not -accustomed to estimate the value of everything according to the amount -of time it either saves or wastes. In short, it is for the few. These, -we believe, "still have time." Without any qualms of conscience they -may improve the most fruitful and vigorous hours of their day in -meditating on the future of our education; they may even believe when -the evening has come that they have used their day in the most -dignified and useful way, namely, in the <i>meditatio generis futuri</i>. -No one among them has yet forgotten to think while reading a book; he -still understands the secret of reading between the lines, and is -indeed <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>so generous in what he himself brings to his study, that he -continues to reflect upon what he has read, perhaps long after he has -laid the book aside. And he does this, not because he wishes to write -a criticism about it or even another book; but simply because -reflection is a pleasant pastime to him. Frivolous spendthrift! Thou -art a reader after my own heart; for thou wilt be patient enough to -accompany an author any distance, even though he himself cannot yet -see the goal at which he is aiming,—even though he himself feels only -that he must at all events honestly believe in a goal, in order that a -future and possibly very remote generation may come face to face with -that towards which we are now blindly and instinctively groping. -Should any reader demur and suggest that all that is required is -prompt and bold reform; should he imagine that a new "organisation" -introduced by the State, were all that is necessary, then we fear he -would have misunderstood not only the author but the very nature of -the problem under consideration.</p> - -<p>The third and most important stipulation is, that he should in no case -be constantly bringing himself and his own "culture" forward, after -the style of most modern men, as the correct standard and measure of -all things. We would have him so highly educated that he could even -think meanly of his education or despise it altogether. Only thus -would he be able to trust entirely to the author's guidance; for it is -only by virtue of ignorance and his consciousness of ignorance, that -the latter can dare to make himself heard. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>Finally, the author would -wish his reader to be fully alive to the specific character of our -present barbarism and of that which distinguishes us, as the -barbarians of the nineteenth century, from other barbarians.</p> - -<p>Now, with this book in his hand, the writer seeks all those who may -happen to be wandering, hither and thither, impelled by feelings -similar to his own. Allow yourselves to be discovered—ye lonely ones -in whose existence I believe! Ye unselfish ones, suffering in -yourselves from the corruption of the German spirit! Ye contemplative -ones who cannot, with hasty glances, turn your eyes swiftly from one -surface to another! Ye lofty thinkers, of whom Aristotle said that ye -wander through life vacillating and inactive so long as no great -honour or glorious Cause calleth you to deeds! It is you I summon! -Refrain this once from seeking refuge in your lairs of solitude and -dark misgivings. Bethink you that this book was framed to be your -herald. When ye shall go forth to battle in your full panoply, who -among you will not rejoice in looking back upon the herald who rallied -you?</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> -<h4><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION.</a></h4> - - -<p>The title I gave to these lectures ought, like all titles, to have -been as definite, as plain, and as significant as possible; now, -however, I observe that owing to a certain excess of precision, in its -present form it is too short and consequently misleading. My first -duty therefore will be to explain the title, together with the object -of these lectures, to you, and to apologise for being obliged to do -this. When I promised to speak to you concerning the future of our -educational institutions, I was not thinking especially of the -evolution of our particular institutions in Bâle. However frequently -my general observations may seem to bear particular application to our -own conditions here, I personally have no desire to draw these -inferences, and do not wish to be held responsible if they should be -drawn, for the simple reason that I consider myself still far too much -an inexperienced stranger among you, and much too superficially -acquainted with your methods, to pretend to pass judgment upon any -such special order of scholastic establishments, or to predict the -probable course their development will follow. On the other hand, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> -I know full well under what distinguished auspices I have to deliver -these lectures—namely, in a city which is striving to educate and -enlighten its inhabitants on a scale so magnificently out of -proportion to its size, that it must put all larger cities to shame. -This being so, I presume I am justified in assuming that in a quarter -where so much is <i>done</i> for the things of which I wish to speak, -people must also <i>think</i> a good deal about them. My desire—yea, my -very first condition, therefore, would be to become united in spirit -with those who have not only thought very deeply upon educational -problems, but have also the will to promote what they think to be -right by all the means in their power. And, in view of the -difficulties of my task and the limited time at my disposal, to such -listeners, alone, in my audience, shall I be able to make myself -understood—and even then, it will be on condition that they shall -guess what I can do no more than suggest, that they shall supply what -I am compelled to omit; in brief, that they shall need but to be -reminded and not to be taught. Thus, while I disclaim all desire of -being taken for an uninvited adviser on questions relating to the -schools and the University of Bâle, I repudiate even more emphatically -still the rôle of a prophet standing on the horizon of civilisation -and pretending to predict the future of education and of scholastic -organisation. I can no more project my vision through such vast -periods of time than I can rely upon its accuracy when it is brought -too close to an object under examination. With my title: <i>Our</i> -Educational Institutions, I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>wish to refer neither to the -establishments in Bâle nor to the incalculably vast number of other -scholastic institutions which exist throughout the nations of the -world to-day; but I wish to refer to <i>German institutions</i> of the kind -which we rejoice in here. It is their future that will now engage our -attention, <i>i.e.</i> the future of German elementary, secondary, and -public schools (Gymnasien) and universities. While pursuing our -discussion, however, we shall for once avoid all comparisons and -valuations, and guard more especially against that flattering illusion -that our conditions should be regarded as the standard for all others -and as surpassing them. Let it suffice that they are our institutions, -that they have not become a part of ourselves by mere accident, and -were not laid upon us like a garment; but that they are living -monuments of important steps in the progress of civilisation, in some -respects even the furniture of a bygone age, and as such link us with -the past of our people, and are such a sacred and venerable legacy -that I can only undertake to speak of the future of our educational -institutions in the sense of their being a most probable approximation -to the ideal spirit which gave them birth. I am, moreover, convinced -that the numerous alterations which have been introduced into these -institutions within recent years, with the view of bringing them -up-to-date, are for the most part but distortions and aberrations of -the originally sublime tendencies given to them at their foundation. -And what we dare to hope from the future, in this behalf, partakes so -much of the nature of a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>rejuvenation, a reviviscence, and a refining -of the spirit of Germany that, as a result of this very process, our -educational institutions may also be indirectly remoulded and born -again, so as to appear at once old and new, whereas now they only -profess to be "modern" or "up-to-date."</p> - -<p>Now it is only in the spirit of the hope above mentioned that I wish -to speak of the future of our educational institutions: and this is -the second point in regard to which I must tender an apology from the -outset. The "prophet" pose is such a presumptuous one that it seems -almost ridiculous to deny that I have the intention of adopting it. -No one should attempt to describe the future of our education, and -the means and methods of instruction relating thereto, in a prophetic -spirit, unless he can prove that the picture he draws already exists -in germ to-day, and that all that is required is the extension and -development of this embryo if the necessary modifications are to be -produced in schools and other educational institutions. All I ask, -is, like a Roman haruspex, to be allowed to steal glimpses of the -future out of the very entrails of existing conditions, which, in -this case, means no more than to hand the laurels of victory to any -one of the many forces tending to make itself felt in our present -educational system, despite the fact that the force in question may -be neither a favourite, an esteemed, nor a very extensive one. I -confidently assert that it will be victorious, however, because it -has the strongest and mightiest of all <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>allies in nature herself; and -in this respect it were well did we not forget that scores of the -very first principles of our modern educational methods are -thoroughly artificial, and that the most fatal weaknesses of the -present day are to be ascribed to this artificiality. He who feels in -complete harmony with the present state of affairs and who acquiesces -in it <i>as something</i> "<i>selbstverständliches</i>,"<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> excites our envy -neither in regard to his faith nor in regard to that egregious word -"<i>selbstverständlich</i>," so frequently heard in fashionable circles.</p> - -<p>He, however, who holds the opposite view and is therefore in despair, -does not need to fight any longer: all he requires is to give himself -up to solitude in order soon to be alone. Albeit, between those who -take everything for granted and these anchorites, there stand the -<i>fighters</i>—that is to say, those who still have hope, and as the -noblest and sublimest example of this class, we recognise Schiller as -he is described by Goethe in his "Epilogue to the Bell."</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">"Brighter now glow'd his cheek, and still more bright</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">With that unchanging, ever youthful glow:—</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">That courage which o'ercomes, in hard-fought fight,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Sooner or later ev'ry earthly foe,—</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">That faith which soaring to the realms of light,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Now boldly presseth on, now bendeth low,</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">So that the good may work, wax, thrive amain,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">So that the day the noble may attain."<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></span><br /> -</p> - -<p>I should like you to regard all I have just said as a kind of preface, -the object of which is to illustrate the title of my lectures and to -guard me against any possible misunderstanding and unjustified -criticisms. And now, in order to give you a rough outline of the range -of ideas from which I shall attempt to form a judgment concerning our -educational institutions, before proceeding to disclose my views and -turning from the title to the main theme, I shall lay a scheme before -you which, like a coat of arms, will serve to warn all strangers who -come to my door, as to the nature of the house they are about to -enter, in case they may feel inclined, after having examined the -device, to turn their backs on the premises that bear it. My scheme is -as follows:—</p> - -<p>Two seemingly antagonistic forces, equally deleterious in their -actions and ultimately combining to produce their results, are at -present ruling over our educational institutions, although these were -based originally upon very different principles. These forces are: a -striving to achieve the greatest possible <i>extension of education</i> on -the one hand, and a tendency <i>to minimise and to weaken it</i> on the -other. The first-named would fain spread learning among the greatest -possible number of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>people, the second would compel education to -renounce its highest and most independent claims in order to -subordinate itself to the service of the State. In the face of these -two antagonistic tendencies, we could but give ourselves up to -despair, did we not see the possibility of promoting the cause of two -other contending factors which are fortunately as completely German as -they are rich in promises for the future; I refer to the present -movement towards <i>limiting and concentrating</i> education as the -antithesis of the first of the forces above mentioned, and that other -movement towards the <i>strengthening and the independence</i> of education -as the antithesis of the second force. If we should seek a warrant for -our belief in the ultimate victory of the two last-named movements, we -could find it in the fact that both of the forces which we hold to be -deleterious are so opposed to the eternal purpose of nature as the -concentration of education for the few is in harmony with it, and is -true, whereas the first two forces could succeed only in founding a -culture false to the root.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Selbstverständlich = "granted or self-understood."</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> <i>The Poems of Goethe.</i> Edgar Alfred Bowring's Translation. (Ed. -1853.)</p></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a><br /> -<a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></p> -<h3>THE FUTURE OF OUR EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS.</h3> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="FIRST_LECTURE" id="FIRST_LECTURE">FIRST LECTURE.</a></h4> - - -<h5>(<i>Delivered on the 16th of January 1872.</i>)</h5> - - -<p><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LADIES AND GENTLEMEN</span>,—The subject I now propose to consider with you -is such a serious and important one, and is in a sense so disquieting, -that, like you, I would gladly turn to any one who could proffer some -information concerning it,—were he ever so young, were his ideas ever -so improbable—provided that he were able, by the exercise of his own -faculties, to furnish some satisfactory and sufficient explanation. It -is just possible that he may have had the opportunity of <i>hearing</i> -sound views expressed in reference to the vexed question of the future -of our educational institutions, and that he may wish to repeat them -to you; he may even have had distinguished teachers, fully qualified -to foretell what is to come, and, like the <i>haruspices</i> of Rome, able -to do so after an inspection of the entrails of the Present.</p> - -<p>Indeed, you yourselves may expect something of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>this kind from me. I -happened once, in strange but perfectly harmless circumstances, to -overhear a conversation on this subject between two remarkable men, -and the more striking points of the discussion, together with their -manner of handling the theme, are so indelibly imprinted on my memory -that, whenever I reflect on these matters, I invariably find myself -falling into their grooves of thought. I cannot, however, profess to -have the same courageous confidence which they displayed, both in -their daring utterance of forbidden truths, and in the still more -daring conception of the hopes with which they astonished me. It -therefore seemed to me to be in the highest degree important that a -record of this conversation should be made, so that others might be -incited to form a judgment concerning the striking views and -conclusions it contains: and, to this end, I had special grounds for -believing that I should do well to avail myself of the opportunity -afforded by this course of lectures.</p> - -<p>I am well aware of the nature of the community to whose serious -consideration I now wish to commend that conversation—I know it to be -a community which is striving to educate and enlighten its members on -a scale so magnificently out of proportion to its size that it must -put all larger cities to shame. This being so, I presume I may take it -for granted that in a quarter where so much is <i>done</i> for the things -of which I wish to speak, people must also <i>think</i> a good deal about -them. In my account of the conversation already mentioned, I shall be -able to make myself <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>completely understood only to those among my -audience who will be able to guess what I can do no more than suggest, -who will supply what I am compelled to omit, and who, above all, need -but to be reminded and not taught.</p> - -<p>Listen, therefore, ladies and gentlemen, while I recount my harmless -experience and the less harmless conversation between the two -gentlemen whom, so far, I have not named.</p> - -<p>Let us now imagine ourselves in the position of a young student—that -is to say, in a position which, in our present age of bewildering -movement and feverish excitability, has become an almost impossible -one. It is necessary to have lived through it in order to believe that -such careless self-lulling and comfortable indifference to the moment, -or to time in general, are possible. In this condition I, and a friend -about my own age, spent a year at the University of Bonn on the -Rhine,—it was a year which, in its complete lack of plans and -projects for the future, seems almost like a dream to me now—a dream -framed, as it were, by two periods of growth. We two remained quiet -and peaceful, although we were surrounded by fellows who in the main -were very differently disposed, and from time to time we experienced -considerable difficulty in meeting and resisting the somewhat too -pressing advances of the young men of our own age. Now, however, that -I can look upon the stand we had to take against these opposing -forces, I cannot help associating them in my mind with those checks we -are wont to receive in our dreams, as, for instance, when we <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>imagine -we are able to fly and yet feel ourselves held back by some -incomprehensible power.</p> - -<p>I and my friend had many reminiscences in common, and these dated from -the period of our boyhood upwards. One of these I must relate to you, -since it forms a sort of prelude to the harmless experience already -mentioned. On the occasion of a certain journey up the Rhine, which we -had made together one summer, it happened that he and I independently -conceived the very same plan at the same hour and on the same spot, -and we were so struck by this unwonted coincidence that we determined -to carry the plan out forthwith. We resolved to found a kind of small -club which would consist of ourselves and a few friends, and the -object of which would be to provide us with a stable and binding -organisation directing and adding interest to our creative impulses in -art and literature; or, to put it more plainly: each of us would be -pledged to present an original piece of work to the club once a -month,—either a poem, a treatise, an architectural design, or a -musical composition, upon which each of the others, in a friendly -spirit, would have to pass free and unrestrained criticism.</p> - -<p>We thus hoped, by means of mutual correction, to be able both to -stimulate and to chasten our creative impulses and, as a matter of -fact, the success of the scheme was such that we have both always felt -a sort of respectful attachment for the hour and the place at which it -first took shape in our minds.</p> - -<p>This attachment was very soon transformed <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>into a rite; for we all -agreed to go, whenever it was possible to do so, once a year to that -lonely spot near Rolandseck, where on that summer's day, while sitting -together, lost in meditation, we were suddenly inspired by the same -thought. Frankly speaking, the rules which were drawn up on the -formation of the club were never very strictly observed; but owing to -the very fact that we had many sins of omission on our conscience -during our student-year in Bonn, when we were once more on the banks -of the Rhine, we firmly resolved not only to observe our rule, but -also to gratify our feelings and our sense of gratitude by reverently -visiting that spot near Rolandseck on the day appointed.</p> - -<p>It was, however, with some difficulty that we were able to carry our -plans into execution; for, on the very day we had selected for our -excursion, the large and lively students' association, which always -hindered us in our flights, did their utmost to put obstacles in our -way and to hold us back. Our association had organised a general -holiday excursion to Rolandseck on the very day my friend and I had -fixed upon, the object of the outing being to assemble all its members -for the last time at the close of the half-year and to send them home -with pleasant recollections of their last hours together.</p> - -<p>The day was a glorious one; the weather was of the kind which, in our -climate at least, only falls to our lot in late summer: heaven and -earth merged harmoniously with one another, and, glowing wondrously in -the sunshine, autumn <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>freshness blended with the blue expanse above. -Arrayed in the bright fantastic garb in which, amid the gloomy -fashions now reigning, students alone may indulge, we boarded a -steamer which was gaily decorated in our honour, and hoisted our flag -on its mast. From both banks of the river there came at intervals the -sound of signal-guns, fired according to our orders, with the view of -acquainting both our host in Rolandseck and the inhabitants in the -neighbourhood with our approach. I shall not speak of the noisy -journey from the landing-stage, through the excited and expectant -little place, nor shall I refer to the esoteric jokes exchanged -between ourselves; I also make no mention of a feast which became both -wild and noisy, or of an extraordinary musical production in the -execution of which, whether as soloists or as chorus, we all -ultimately had to share, and which I, as musical adviser of our club, -had not only had to rehearse, but was then forced to conduct. Towards -the end of this piece, which grew ever wilder and which was sung to -ever quicker time, I made a sign to my friend, and just as the last -chord rang like a yell through the building, he and I vanished, -leaving behind us a raging pandemonium.</p> - -<p>In a moment we were in the refreshing and breathless stillness of -nature. The shadows were already lengthening, the sun still shone -steadily, though it had sunk a good deal in the heavens, and from the -green and glittering waves of the Rhine a cool breeze was wafted over -our hot faces. Our solemn rite bound us only in so far as the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>latest -hours of the day were concerned, and we therefore determined to employ -the last moments of clear daylight by giving ourselves up to one of -our many hobbies.</p> - -<p>At that time we were passionately fond of pistol-shooting, and both of -us in later years found the skill we had acquired as amateurs of great -use in our military career. Our club servant happened to know the -somewhat distant and elevated spot which we used as a range, and had -carried our pistols there in advance. The spot lay near the upper -border of the wood which covered the lesser heights behind Rolandseck: -it was a small uneven plateau, close to the place we had consecrated -in memory of its associations. On a wooded slope alongside of our -shooting-range there was a small piece of ground which had been -cleared of wood, and which made an ideal halting-place; from it one -could get a view of the Rhine over the tops of the trees and the -brushwood, so that the beautiful, undulating lines of the Seven -Mountains and above all of the Drachenfels bounded the horizon against -the group of trees, while in the centre of the bow formed by the -glistening Rhine itself the island of Nonnenwörth stood out as if -suspended in the river's arms. This was the place which had become -sacred to us through the dreams and plans we had had in common, and to -which we intended to withdraw, later in the evening,—nay, to which we -should be obliged to withdraw, if we wished to close the day in -accordance with the law we had imposed on ourselves.</p> - -<p>At one end of the little uneven plateau, and not <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>very far away, there -stood the mighty trunk of an oak-tree, prominently visible against a -background quite bare of trees and consisting merely of low undulating -hills in the distance. Working together, we had once carved a -pentagram in the side of this tree-trunk. Years of exposure to rain -and storm had slightly deepened the channels we had cut, and the -figure seemed a welcome target for our pistol-practice. It was already -late in the afternoon when we reached our improvised range, and our -oak-stump cast a long and attenuated shadow across the barren heath. -All was still: thanks to the lofty trees at our feet, we were unable -to catch a glimpse of the valley of the Rhine below. The peacefulness -of the spot seemed only to intensify the loudness of our -pistol-shots—and I had scarcely fired my second barrel at the -pentagram when I felt some one lay hold of my arm and noticed that my -friend had also some one beside him who had interrupted his loading.</p> - -<p>Turning sharply on my heels I found myself face to face with an -astonished old gentleman, and felt what must have been a very powerful -dog make a lunge at my back. My friend had been approached by a -somewhat younger man than I had; but before we could give expression -to our surprise the older of the two interlopers burst forth in the -following threatening and heated strain: "No! no!" he called to us, -"no duels must be fought here, but least of all must you young -students fight one. Away with these pistols and compose yourselves. Be -reconciled, shake hands! What?—and are you the salt of the earth, -the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>intelligence of the future, the seed of our hopes—and are you -not even able to emancipate yourselves from the insane code of honour -and its violent regulations? I will not cast any aspersions on your -hearts, but your heads certainly do you no credit. You, whose youth is -watched over by the wisdom of Greece and Rome, and whose youthful -spirits, at the cost of enormous pains, have been flooded with the -light of the sages and heroes of antiquity,—can you not refrain from -making the code of knightly honour—that is to say, the code of folly -and brutality—the guiding principle of your conduct?—Examine it -rationally once and for all, and reduce it to plain terms; lay its -pitiable narrowness bare, and let it be the touchstone, not of your -hearts but of your minds. If you do not regret it then, it will merely -show that your head is not fitted for work in a sphere where great -gifts of discrimination are needful in order to burst the bonds of -prejudice, and where a well-balanced understanding is necessary for -the purpose of distinguishing right from wrong, even when the -difference between them lies deeply hidden and is not, as in this -case, so ridiculously obvious. In that case, therefore, my lads, try -to go through life in some other honourable manner; join the army or -learn a handicraft that pays its way."</p> - -<p>To this rough, though admittedly just, flood of eloquence, we replied -with some irritation, interrupting each other continually in so doing: -"In the first place, you are mistaken concerning the main point; for -we are not here to fight a duel at all; but rather to practise -pistol-shooting. Secondly, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>you do not appear to know how a real duel -is conducted;—do you suppose that we should have faced each other in -this lonely spot, like two highwaymen, without seconds or doctors, -etc. etc.? Thirdly, with regard to the question of duelling, we each -have our own opinions, and do not require to be waylaid and surprised -by the sort of instruction you may feel disposed to give us."</p> - -<p>This reply, which was certainly not polite, made a bad impression upon -the old man. At first, when he heard that we were not about to fight a -duel, he surveyed us more kindly: but when we reached the last passage -of our speech, he seemed so vexed that he growled. When, however, we -began to speak of our point of view, he quickly caught hold of his -companion, turned sharply round, and cried to us in bitter tones: -"People should not have points of view, but thoughts!" And then his -companion added: "Be respectful when a man such as this even makes -mistakes!"</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, my friend, who had reloaded, fired a shot at the pentagram, -after having cried: "Look out!" This sudden report behind his back -made the old man savage; once more he turned round and looked sourly -at my friend, after which he said to his companion in a feeble voice: -"What shall we do? These young men will be the death of me with their -firing."—"You should know," said the younger man, turning to us, -"that your noisy pastimes amount, as it happens on this occasion, to -an attempt upon the life of philosophy. You observe this venerable -man,—he is in a position to beg you to desist from firing here. And -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>when such a man begs——" "Well, his request is generally granted," -the old man interjected, surveying us sternly.</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, we did not know what to make of the whole matter; -we could not understand what our noisy pastimes could have in common -with philosophy; nor could we see why, out of regard for polite -scruples, we should abandon our shooting-range, and at this moment we -may have appeared somewhat undecided and perturbed. The companion -noticing our momentary discomfiture, proceeded to explain the matter -to us.</p> - -<p>"We are compelled," he said, "to linger in this immediate -neighbourhood for an hour or so; we have a rendezvous here. An eminent -friend of this eminent man is to meet us here this evening; and we had -actually selected this peaceful spot, with its few benches in the -midst of the wood, for the meeting. It would really be most unpleasant -if, owing to your continual pistol-practice, we were to be subjected -to an unending series of shocks; surely your own feelings will tell -you that it is impossible for you to continue your firing when you -hear that he who has selected this quiet and isolated place for a -meeting with a friend is one of our most eminent philosophers."</p> - -<p>This explanation only succeeded in perturbing us the more; for we saw -a danger threatening us which was even greater than the loss of our -shooting-range, and we asked eagerly, "Where is this quiet spot? -Surely not to the left here, in the wood?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>"That is the very place."</p> - -<p>"But this evening that place belongs to us," my friend interposed. "We -must have it," we cried together.</p> - -<p>Our long-projected celebration seemed at that moment more important -than all the philosophies of the world, and we gave such vehement and -animated utterance to our sentiments that in view of the -incomprehensible nature of our claims we must have cut a somewhat -ridiculous figure. At any rate, our philosophical interlopers regarded -us with expressions of amused inquiry, as if they expected us to -proffer some sort of apology. But we were silent, for we wished above -all to keep our secret.</p> - -<p>Thus we stood facing one another in silence, while the sunset dyed the -tree-tops a ruddy gold. The philosopher contemplated the sun, his -companion contemplated him, and we turned our eyes towards our nook in -the woods which to-day we seemed in such great danger of losing. A -feeling of sullen anger took possession of us. What is philosophy, we -asked ourselves, if it prevents a man from being by himself or from -enjoying the select company of a friend,—in sooth, if it prevents him -from becoming a philosopher? For we regarded the celebration of our -rite as a thoroughly philosophical performance. In celebrating it we -wished to form plans and resolutions for the future, by means of quiet -reflections we hoped to light upon an idea which would once again help -us to form and gratify our spirit in the future, just as that former -idea had done during our boyhood. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>The solemn act derived its very -significance from this resolution, that nothing definite was to be -done, we were only to be alone, and to sit still and meditate, as we -had done five years before when we had each been inspired with the -same thought. It was to be a silent solemnisation, all reminiscence -and all future; the present was to be as a hyphen between the two. And -fate, now unfriendly, had just stepped into our magic circle—and we -knew not how to dismiss her;—the very unusual character of the -circumstances filled us with mysterious excitement.</p> - -<p>Whilst we stood thus in silence for some time, divided into two -hostile groups, the clouds above waxed ever redder and the evening -seemed to grow more peaceful and mild; we could almost fancy we heard -the regular breathing of nature as she put the final touches to her -work of art—the glorious day we had just enjoyed; when, suddenly, the -calm evening air was rent by a confused and boisterous cry of joy -which seemed to come from the Rhine. A number of voices could be heard -in the distance—they were those of our fellow-students who by that -time must have taken to the Rhine in small boats. It occurred to us -that we should be missed and that we should also miss something: -almost simultaneously my friend and I raised our pistols: our shots -were echoed back to us, and with their echo there came from the valley -the sound of a well-known cry intended as a signal of identification. -For our passion for shooting had brought us both repute and ill-repute -in our club. At the same <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>time we were conscious that our behaviour -towards the silent philosophical couple had been exceptionally -ungentlemanly; they had been quietly contemplating us for some time, -and when we fired the shock made them draw close up to each other. We -hurried up to them, and each in our turn cried out: "Forgive us. That -was our last shot, and it was intended for our friends on the Rhine. -They have understood us, do you hear? If you insist upon having that -place among the trees, grant us at least the permission to recline -there also. You will find a number of benches on the spot: we shall -not disturb you; we shall sit quite still and shall not utter a word: -but it is now past seven o'clock and we <i>must</i> go there at once.</p> - -<p>"That sounds more mysterious than it is," I added after a pause; "we -have made a solemn vow to spend this coming hour on that ground, and -there were reasons for the vow. The spot is sacred to us, owing to -some pleasant associations, it must also inaugurate a good future for -us. We shall therefore endeavour to leave you with no disagreeable -recollections of our meeting—even though we have done much to perturb -and frighten you."</p> - -<p>The philosopher was silent; his companion, however, said: "Our -promises and plans unfortunately compel us not only to remain, but -also to spend the same hour on the spot you have selected. It is left -for us to decide whether fate or perhaps a spirit has been responsible -for this extraordinary coincidence."</p> - -<p>"Besides, my friend," said the philosopher, "I am not half so -displeased with these warlike <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>youngsters as I was. Did you observe -how quiet they were a moment ago, when we were contemplating the sun? -They neither spoke nor smoked, they stood stone still, I even believe -they meditated."</p> - -<p>Turning suddenly in our direction, he said: "<i>Were</i> you meditating? -Just tell me about it as we proceed in the direction of our common -trysting-place." We took a few steps together and went down the slope -into the warm balmy air of the woods where it was already much darker. -On the way my friend openly revealed his thoughts to the philosopher, -he confessed how much he had feared that perhaps to-day for the first -time a philosopher was about to stand in the way of his -philosophising.</p> - -<p>The sage laughed. "What? You were afraid a philosopher would prevent -your philosophising? This might easily happen: and you have not yet -experienced such a thing? Has your university life been free from -experience? You surely attend lectures on philosophy?"</p> - -<p>This question discomfited us; for, as a matter of fact, there had been -no element of philosophy in our education up to that time. In those -days, moreover, we fondly imagined that everybody who held the post -and possessed the dignity of a philosopher must perforce be one: we -were inexperienced and badly informed. We frankly admitted that we had -not yet belonged to any philosophical college, but that we would -certainly make up for lost time.</p> - -<p>"Then what," he asked, "did you mean when <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>you spoke of -philosophising?" Said I, "We are at a loss for a definition. But to -all intents and purposes we meant this, that we wished to make earnest -endeavours to consider the best possible means of becoming men of -culture." "That is a good deal and at the same time very little," -growled the philosopher; "just you think the matter over. Here are our -benches, let us discuss the question exhaustively: I shall not disturb -your meditations with regard to how you are to become men of culture. -I wish you success and—points of view, as in your duelling questions; -brand-new, original, and enlightened points of view. The philosopher -does not wish to prevent your philosophising: but refrain at least -from disconcerting him with your pistol-shots. Try to imitate the -Pythagoreans to-day: they, as servants of a true philosophy, had to -remain silent for five years—possibly you may also be able to remain -silent for five times fifteen minutes, as servants of your own future -culture, about which you seem so concerned."</p> - -<p>We had reached our destination: the solemnisation of our rite began. -As on the previous occasion, five years ago, the Rhine was once more -flowing beneath a light mist, the sky seemed bright and the woods -exhaled the same fragrance. We took our places on the farthest corner -of the most distant bench; sitting there we were almost concealed, and -neither the philosopher nor his companion could see our faces. We were -alone: when the sound of the philosopher's voice reached us, it had -become so blended with the rustling <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>leaves and with the buzzing -murmur of the myriads of living things inhabiting the wooded height, -that it almost seemed like the music of nature; as a sound it -resembled nothing more than a distant monotonous plaint. We were -indeed undisturbed.</p> - -<p>Some time elapsed in this way, and while the glow of sunset grew -steadily paler the recollection of our youthful undertaking in the -cause of culture waxed ever more vivid. It seemed to us as if we owed -the greatest debt of gratitude to that little society we had founded; -for it had done more than merely supplement our public school -training; it had actually been the only fruitful society we had had, -and within its frame we even placed our public school life, as a -purely isolated factor helping us in our general efforts to attain to -culture.</p> - -<p>We knew this, that, thanks to our little society, no thought of -embracing any particular career had ever entered our minds in those -days. The all too frequent exploitation of youth by the State, for its -own purposes—that is to say, so that it may rear useful officials as -quickly as possible and guarantee their unconditional obedience to it -by means of excessively severe examinations—had remained quite -foreign to our education. And to show how little we had been actuated -by thoughts of utility or by the prospect of speedy advancement and -rapid success, on that day we were struck by the comforting -consideration that, even then, we had not yet decided what we should -be—we had not even troubled ourselves at all on this head. Our little -society had sown the seeds of this happy indifference in our souls and -for it alone we were <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>prepared to celebrate the anniversary of its -foundation with hearty gratitude. I have already pointed out, I think, -that in the eyes of the present age, which is so intolerant of -anything that is not useful, such purposeless enjoyment of the moment, -such a lulling of one's self in the cradle of the present, must seem -almost incredible and at all events blameworthy. How useless we were! -And how proud we were of being useless! We used even to quarrel with -each other as to which of us should have the glory of being the more -useless. We wished to attach no importance to anything, to have strong -views about nothing, to aim at nothing; we wanted to take no thought -for the morrow, and desired no more than to recline comfortably like -good-for-nothings on the threshold of the present; and we did—bless -us!</p> - -<p>—That, ladies and gentlemen, was our standpoint then!—</p> - -<p>Absorbed in these reflections, I was just about to give an answer to -the question of the future of <i>our</i> Educational Institutions in the -same self-sufficient way, when it gradually dawned upon me that the -"natural music," coming from the philosopher's bench had lost its -original character and travelled to us in much more piercing and -distinct tones than before. Suddenly I became aware that I was -listening, that I was eavesdropping, and was passionately interested, -with both ears keenly alive to every sound. I nudged my friend who was -evidently somewhat tired, and I whispered: "Don't fall asleep! There -is something for us to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>learn over there. It applies to us, even -though it be not meant for us."</p> - -<p>For instance, I heard the younger of the two men defending himself -with great animation while the philosopher rebuked him with ever -increasing vehemence. "You are unchanged," he cried to him, -"unfortunately unchanged. It is quite incomprehensible to me how you -can still be the same as you were seven years ago, when I saw you for -the last time and left you with so much misgiving. I fear I must once -again divest you, however reluctantly, of the skin of modern culture -which you have donned meanwhile;—and what do I find beneath it? The -same immutable 'intelligible' character forsooth, according to Kant; -but unfortunately the same unchanged 'intellectual' character, -too—which may also be a necessity, though not a comforting one. I ask -myself to what purpose have I lived as a philosopher, if, possessed as -you are of no mean intelligence and a genuine thirst for knowledge, -all the years you have spent in my company have left no deeper -impression upon you. At present you are behaving as if you had not -even heard the cardinal principle of all culture, which I went to such -pains to inculcate upon you during our former intimacy. Tell me,—what -was that principle?"</p> - -<p>"I remember," replied the scolded pupil, "you used to say no one would -strive to attain to culture if he knew how incredibly small the number -of really cultured people actually is, and can ever be. And even this -number of really cultured people would not be possible if a prodigious -multitude, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>from reasons opposed to their nature and only led on by an -alluring delusion, did not devote themselves to education. It were -therefore a mistake publicly to reveal the ridiculous disproportion -between the number of really cultured people and the enormous -magnitude of the educational apparatus. Here lies the whole secret of -culture—namely, that an innumerable host of men struggle to achieve -it and work hard to that end, ostensibly in their own interests, -whereas at bottom it is only in order that it may be possible for the -few to attain to it."</p> - -<p>"That is the principle," said the philosopher,—"and yet you could so -far forget yourself as to believe that you are one of the few? This -thought has occurred to you—I can see. That, however, is the result -of the worthless character of modern education. The rights of genius -are being democratised in order that people may be relieved of the -labour of acquiring culture, and their need of it. Every one wants if -possible to recline in the shade of the tree planted by genius, and to -escape the dreadful necessity of working for him, so that his -procreation may be made possible. What? Are you too proud to be a -teacher? Do you despise the thronging multitude of learners? Do you -speak contemptuously of the teacher's calling? And, aping my mode of -life, would you fain live in solitary seclusion, hostilely isolated -from that multitude? Do you suppose that you can reach at one bound -what I ultimately had to win for myself only after long and determined -struggles, in order even to be able to live like a philosopher? And do -you not fear that solitude <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>will wreak its vengeance upon you? Just -try living the life of a hermit of culture. One must be blessed with -overflowing wealth in order to live for the good of all on one's own -resources! Extraordinary youngsters! They felt it incumbent upon them -to imitate what is precisely most difficult and most high,—what is -possible only to the master, when they, above all, should know how -difficult and dangerous this is, and how many excellent gifts may be -ruined by attempting it!"</p> - -<p>"I will conceal nothing from you, sir," the companion replied. "I have -heard too much from your lips at odd times and have been too long in -your company to be able to surrender myself entirely to our present -system of education and instruction. I am too painfully conscious of -the disastrous errors and abuses to which you used to call my -attention—though I very well know that I am not strong enough to hope -for any success were I to struggle ever so valiantly against them. I -was overcome by a feeling of general discouragement; my recourse to -solitude was the result neither of pride nor arrogance. I would fain -describe to you what I take to be the nature of the educational -questions now attracting such enormous and pressing attention. It -seemed to me that I must recognise two main directions in the forces -at work—two seemingly antagonistic tendencies, equally deleterious in -their action, and ultimately combining to produce their results: a -striving to achieve the greatest possible <i>expansion</i> of education on -the one hand, and a tendency to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span><i>minimise and weaken</i> it on the -other. The first-named would, for various reasons, spread learning -among the greatest number of people; the second would compel education -to renounce its highest, noblest and sublimest claims in order to -subordinate itself to some other department of life—such as the -service of the State.</p> - -<p>"I believe I have already hinted at the quarter in which the cry for -the greatest possible expansion of education is most loudly raised. -This expansion belongs to the most beloved of the dogmas of modern -political economy. As much knowledge and education as possible; -therefore the greatest possible supply and demand—hence as much -happiness as possible:—that is the formula. In this case utility is -made the object and goal of education,—utility in the sense of -gain—the greatest possible pecuniary gain. In the quarter now under -consideration culture would be defined as that point of vantage which -enables one to 'keep in the van of one's age,' from which one can see -all the easiest and best roads to wealth, and with which one controls -all the means of communication between men and nations. The purpose of -education, according to this scheme, would be to rear the most -'current' men possible,—'current' being used here in the sense in -which it is applied to the coins of the realm. The greater the number -of such men, the happier a nation will be; and this precisely is the -purpose of our modern educational institutions: to help every one, as -far as his nature will allow, to become 'current'; to develop him so -that his particular degree of knowledge and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>science may yield him the -greatest possible amount of happiness and pecuniary gain. Every one -must be able to form some sort of estimate of himself; he must know -how much he may reasonably expect from life. The 'bond between -intelligence and property' which this point of view postulates has -almost the force of a moral principle. In this quarter all culture is -loathed which isolates, which sets goals beyond gold and gain, and -which requires time: it is customary to dispose of such eccentric -tendencies in education as systems of 'Higher Egotism,' or of 'Immoral -Culture—Epicureanism.' According to the morality reigning here, the -demands are quite different; what is required above all is 'rapid -education,' so that a money-earning creature may be produced with all -speed; there is even a desire to make this education so thorough that -a creature may be reared that will be able to earn a <i>great deal</i> of -money. Men are allowed only the precise amount of culture which is -compatible with the interests of gain; but that amount, at least, is -expected from them. In short: mankind has a necessary right to -happiness on earth—that is why culture is necessary—but on that -account alone!"</p> - -<p>"I must just say something here," said the philosopher. "In the case -of the view you have described so clearly, there arises the great and -awful danger that at some time or other the great masses may overleap -the middle classes and spring headlong into this earthly bliss. That -is what is now called 'the social question.' It might seem to these -masses that education for the greatest <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>number of men was only a means -to the earthly bliss of the few: the 'greatest possible expansion of -education' so enfeebles education that it can no longer confer -privileges or inspire respect. The most general form of culture is -simply barbarism. But I do not wish to interrupt your discussion."</p> - -<p>The companion continued: "There are yet other reasons, besides this -beloved economical dogma, for the expansion of education that is being -striven after so valiantly everywhere. In some countries the fear of -religious oppression is so general, and the dread of its results so -marked, that people in all classes of society long for culture and -eagerly absorb those elements of it which are supposed to scatter the -religious instincts. Elsewhere the State, in its turn, strives here -and there for its own preservation, after the greatest possible -expansion of education, because it always feels strong enough to bring -the most determined emancipation, resulting from culture, under its -yoke, and readily approves of everything which tends to extend -culture, provided that it be of service to its officials or soldiers, -but in the main to itself, in its competition with other nations. In -this case, the foundations of a State must be sufficiently broad and -firm to constitute a fitting counterpart to the complicated arches of -culture which it supports, just as in the first case the traces of -some former religious tyranny must still be felt for a people to be -driven to such desperate remedies. Thus, wherever I hear the masses -raise the cry for an expansion of education, I am wont to ask myself -whether it is stimulated by a greedy lust <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>of gain and property, by -the memory of a former religious persecution, or by the prudent -egotism of the State itself.</p> - -<p>"On the other hand, it seemed to me that there was yet another -tendency, not so clamorous, perhaps, but quite as forcible, which, -hailing from various quarters, was animated by a different -desire,—the desire to minimise and weaken education.</p> - -<p>"In all cultivated circles people are in the habit of whispering to -one another words something after this style: that it is a general -fact that, owing to the present frantic exploitation of the scholar in -the service of his science, his <i>education</i> becomes every day more -accidental and more uncertain. For the study of science has been -extended to such interminable lengths that he who, though not -exceptionally gifted, yet possesses fair abilities, will need to -devote himself exclusively to one branch and ignore all others if he -ever wish to achieve anything in his work. Should he then elevate -himself above the herd by means of his speciality, he still remains -one of them in regard to all else,—that is to say, in regard to all -the most important things in life. Thus, a specialist in science gets -to resemble nothing so much as a factory workman who spends his whole -life in turning one particular screw or handle on a certain instrument -or machine, at which occupation he acquires the most consummate skill. -In Germany, where we know how to drape such painful facts with the -glorious garments of fancy, this narrow specialisation on the part of -our learned men is <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>even admired, and their ever greater deviation -from the path of true culture is regarded as a moral phenomenon. -'Fidelity in small things,' 'dogged faithfulness,' become expressions -of highest eulogy, and the lack of culture outside the speciality is -flaunted abroad as a sign of noble sufficiency.</p> - -<p>"For centuries it has been an understood thing that one alluded to -scholars alone when one spoke of cultured men; but experience tells us -that it would be difficult to find any necessary relation between the -two classes to-day. For at present the exploitation of a man for the -purpose of science is accepted everywhere without the slightest -scruple. Who still ventures to ask, What may be the value of a science -which consumes its minions in this vampire fashion? The division of -labour in science is practically struggling towards the same goal -which religions in certain parts of the world are consciously striving -after,—that is to say, towards the decrease and even the destruction -of learning. That, however, which, in the case of certain religions, -is a perfectly justifiable aim, both in regard to their origin and -their history, can only amount to self-immolation when transferred to -the realm of science. In all matters of a general and serious nature, -and above all, in regard to the highest philosophical problems, we -have now already reached a point at which the scientific man, as such, -is no longer allowed to speak. On the other hand, that adhesive and -tenacious stratum which has now filled up the interstices between the -sciences—Journalism—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>believes it has a mission to fulfil here, and -this it does, according to its own particular lights—that is to say, -as its name implies, after the fashion of a day-labourer.</p> - -<p>"It is precisely in journalism that the two tendencies combine and -become one. The expansion and the diminution of education here join -hands. The newspaper actually steps into the place of culture, and he -who, even as a scholar, wishes to voice any claim for education, must -avail himself of this viscous stratum of communication which cements -the seams between all forms of life, all classes, all arts, and all -sciences, and which is as firm and reliable as news paper is, as a -rule. In the newspaper the peculiar educational aims of the present -culminate, just as the journalist, the servant of the moment, has -stepped into the place of the genius, of the leader for all time, of -the deliverer from the tyranny of the moment. Now, tell me, -distinguished master, what hopes could I still have in a struggle -against the general topsy-turvification of all genuine aims for -education; with what courage can I, a single teacher, step forward, -when I know that the moment any seeds of real culture are sown, they -will be mercilessly crushed by the roller of this pseudo-culture? -Imagine how useless the most energetic work on the part of the -individual teacher must be, who would fain lead a pupil back into the -distant and evasive Hellenic world and to the real home of culture, -when in less than an hour, that same pupil will have recourse to a -newspaper, the latest novel, or one of those learned books, the very -style of which <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>already bears the revolting impress of modern barbaric -culture——"</p> - -<p>"Now, silence a minute!" interjected the philosopher in a strong and -sympathetic voice. "I understand you now, and ought never to have -spoken so crossly to you. You are altogether right, save in your -despair. I shall now proceed to say a few words of consolation."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></p> -<h4><a name="SECOND_LECTURE" id="SECOND_LECTURE">SECOND LECTURE.</a></h4> - - -<h5>(<i>Delivered on the 6th of February 1872.</i>)</h5> - - -<p><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LADIES AND GENTLEMEN</span>,—Those among you whom I now have the pleasure of -addressing for the first time and whose only knowledge of my first -lecture has been derived from reports will, I hope, not mind being -introduced here into the middle of a dialogue which I had begun to -recount on the last occasion, and the last points of which I must now -recall. The philosopher's young companion was just pleading openly and -confidentially with his distinguished tutor, and apologising for -having so far renounced his calling as a teacher in order to spend his -days in comfortless solitude. No suspicion of superciliousness or -arrogance had induced him to form this resolve.</p> - -<p>"I have heard too much from your lips at various times," the -straightforward pupil said, "and have been too long in your company, -to surrender myself blindly to our present systems of education and -instruction. I am too painfully conscious of the disastrous errors and -abuses to which you were wont to call my attention; and yet I know -that I am far from possessing the requisite strength to meet with -success, however valiantly I might struggle to shatter the bulwarks -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>of this would-be culture. I was overcome by a general feeling of -depression: my recourse to solitude was not arrogance or -superciliousness." Whereupon, to account for his behaviour, he -described the general character of modern educational methods so -vividly that the philosopher could not help interrupting him in a -voice full of sympathy, and crying words of comfort to him.</p> - -<p>"Now, silence for a minute, my poor friend," he cried; "I can more -easily understand you now, and should not have lost my patience with -you. You are altogether right, save in your despair. I shall now -proceed to say a few words of comfort to you. How long do you suppose -the state of education in the schools of our time, which seems to -weigh so heavily upon you, will last? I shall not conceal my views on -this point from you: its time is over; its days are counted. The first -who will dare to be quite straightforward in this respect will hear -his honesty re-echoed back to him by thousands of courageous souls. -For, at bottom, there is a tacit understanding between the more nobly -gifted and more warmly disposed men of the present day. Every one of -them knows what he has had to suffer from the condition of culture in -schools; every one of them would fain protect his offspring from the -need of enduring similar drawbacks, even though he himself was -compelled to submit to them. If these feelings are never quite -honestly expressed, however, it is owing to a sad want of spirit among -modern pedagogues. These lack real initiative; there are too few -practical men among them—that is to say, too few who happen <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>to have -good and new ideas, and who know that real genius and the real -practical mind must necessarily come together in the same individuals, -whilst the sober practical men have no ideas and therefore fall short -in practice.</p> - -<p>"Let any one examine the pedagogic literature of the present; he who -is not shocked at its utter poverty of spirit and its ridiculously -awkward antics is beyond being spoiled. Here our philosophy must not -begin with wonder but with dread; he who feels no dread at this point -must be asked not to meddle with pedagogic questions. The reverse, of -course, has been the rule up to the present; those who were terrified -ran away filled with embarrassment as you did, my poor friend, while -the sober and fearless ones spread their heavy hands over the most -delicate technique that has ever existed in art—over the technique of -education. This, however, will not be possible much longer; at some -time or other the upright man will appear, who will not only have the -good ideas I speak of, but who in order to work at their realisation, -will dare to break with all that exists at present: he may by means of -a wonderful example achieve what the broad hands, hitherto active, -could not even imitate—then people will everywhere begin to draw -comparisons; then men will at least be able to perceive a contrast and -will be in a position to reflect upon its causes, whereas, at present, -so many still believe, in perfect good faith, that heavy hands are a -necessary factor in pedagogic work."</p> - -<p>"My dear master," said the younger man, "I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>wish you could point to -one single example which would assist me in seeing the soundness of -the hopes which you so heartily raise in me. We are both acquainted -with public schools; do you think, for instance, that in respect of -these institutions anything may be done by means of honesty and good -and new ideas to abolish the tenacious and antiquated customs now -extant? In this quarter, it seems to me, the battering-rams of an -attacking party will have to meet with no solid wall, but with the -most fatal of stolid and slippery principles. The leader of the -assault has no visible and tangible opponent to crush, but rather a -creature in disguise that can transform itself into a hundred -different shapes and, in each of these, slip out of his grasp, only in -order to reappear and to confound its enemy by cowardly surrenders and -feigned retreats. It was precisely the public schools which drove me -into despair and solitude, simply because I feel that if the struggle -here leads to victory all other educational institutions must give in; -but that, if the reformer be forced to abandon his cause here, he may -as well give up all hope in regard to every other scholastic question. -Therefore, dear master, enlighten me concerning the public schools; -what can we hope for in the way of their abolition or reform?"</p> - -<p>"I also hold the question of public schools to be as important as you -do," the philosopher replied. "All other educational institutions must -fix their aims in accordance with those of the public school system; -whatever errors of judgment it may suffer from, they suffer from also, -and if it were ever <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>purified and rejuvenated, they would be purified -and rejuvenated too. The universities can no longer lay claim to this -importance as centres of influence, seeing that, as they now stand, -they are at least, in one important aspect, only a kind of annex to -the public school system, as I shall shortly point out to you. For the -moment, let us consider, together, what to my mind constitutes the -very hopeful struggle of the two possibilities: <i>either</i> that the -motley and evasive spirit of public schools which has hitherto been -fostered, will completely vanish, or that it will have to be -completely purified and rejuvenated. And in order that I may not shock -you with general propositions, let us first try to recall one of those -public school experiences which we have all had, and from which we -have all suffered. Under severe examination what, as a matter of fact, -is the present <i>system of teaching German</i> in public schools?</p> - -<p>"I shall first of all tell you what it should be. Everybody speaks and -writes German as thoroughly badly as it is just possible to do so in -an age of newspaper German: that is why the growing youth who happens -to be both noble and gifted has to be taken by force and put under the -glass shade of good taste and of severe linguistic discipline. If this -is not possible, I would prefer in future that Latin be spoken; for I -am ashamed of a language so bungled and vitiated.</p> - -<p>"What would be the duty of a higher educational institution, in this -respect, if not this—namely, with authority and dignified severity to -put youths, neglected, as far as their own language <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>is concerned, on -the right path, and to cry to them: 'Take your own language seriously! -He who does not regard this matter as a sacred duty does not possess -even the germ of a higher culture. From your attitude in this matter, -from your treatment of your mother-tongue, we can judge how highly or -how lowly you esteem art, and to what extent you are related to it. If -you notice no physical loathing in yourselves when you meet with -certain words and tricks of speech in our journalistic jargon, cease -from striving after culture; for here in your immediate vicinity, at -every moment of your life, while you are either speaking or writing, -you have a touchstone for testing how difficult, how stupendous, the -task of the cultured man is, and how very improbable it must be that -many of you will ever attain to culture.'</p> - -<p>"In accordance with the spirit of this address, the teacher of German -at a public school would be forced to call his pupil's attention to -thousands of details, and with the absolute certainty of good taste, -to forbid their using such words and expressions, for instance, as: -'<i>beanspruchen</i>,' '<i>vereinnahmen</i>,' '<i>einer Sache Rechnung tragen</i>,' -'<i>die Initiative ergreifen</i>,' '<i>selbstverständlich</i>,'<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> etc., <i>cum -tædio in infinitum</i>. The same teacher would also have to take our -classical authors and show, line for line, how carefully and with what -precision every expression has to be chosen when a writer has the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>correct feeling in his heart and has before his eyes a perfect -conception of all he is writing. He would necessarily urge his pupils, -time and again, to express the same thought ever more happily; nor -would he have to abate in rigour until the less gifted in his class -had contracted an unholy fear of their language, and the others had -developed great enthusiasm for it.</p> - -<p>"Here then is a task for so-called 'formal' education<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> [the -education tending to develop the mental faculties, as opposed to -'material' education,<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> which is intended to deal only with the -acquisition of facts, <i>e.g.</i> history, mathematics, etc.], and one of -the utmost value: but what do we find in the public school—that is to -say, in the head-quarters of formal education? He who understands how -to apply what he has heard here will also know what to think of the -modern public school as a so-called educational institution. He will -discover, for instance, that the public school, according to its -fundamental principles, does not educate for the purposes of culture, -but for the purposes of scholarship; and, further, that of late it -seems to have adopted a course which indicates rather that it has even -discarded scholarship in favour of journalism as the object of its -exertions. This can be clearly seen from the way in which German is -taught.</p> - -<p>"Instead of that purely practical method of instruction by which the -teacher accustoms his pupils to severe self-discipline in their own -language, we find everywhere the rudiments of a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>historico-scholastic -method of teaching the mother-tongue: that is to say, people deal with -it as if it were a dead language and as if the present and future were -under no obligations to it whatsoever. The historical method has -become so universal in our time, that even the living body of the -language is sacrificed for the sake of anatomical study. But this is -precisely where culture begins—namely, in understanding how to treat -the quick as something vital, and it is here too that the mission of -the cultured teacher begins: in suppressing the urgent claims of -'historical interests' wherever it is above all necessary to <i>do</i> -properly and not merely to <i>know</i> properly. Our mother-tongue, -however, is a domain in which the pupil must learn how to <i>do</i> -properly, and to this practical end, alone, the teaching of German is -essential in our scholastic establishments. The historical method may -certainly be a considerably easier and more comfortable one for the -teacher; it also seems to be compatible with a much lower grade of -ability and, in general, with a smaller display of energy and will on -his part. But we shall find that this observation holds good in every -department of pedagogic life: the simpler and more comfortable method -always masquerades in the disguise of grand pretensions and stately -titles; the really practical side, the <i>doing</i>, which should belong to -culture and which, at bottom, is the more difficult side, meets only -with disfavour and contempt. That is why the honest man must make -himself and others quite clear concerning this <i>quid pro quo</i>.</p> - -<p>"Now, apart from these learned incentives to a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>study of the language, -what is there besides which the German teacher is wont to offer? How -does he reconcile the spirit of his school with the spirit of the -<i>few</i> that Germany can claim who are really cultured,—<i>i.e.</i> with the -spirit of its classical poets and artists? This is a dark and thorny -sphere, into which one cannot even bear a light without dread; but -even here we shall conceal nothing from ourselves; for sooner or later -the whole of it will have to be reformed. In the public school, the -repulsive impress of our æsthetic journalism is stamped upon the still -unformed minds of youths. Here, too, the teacher sows the seeds of -that crude and wilful misinterpretation of the classics, which later -on disports itself as art-criticism, and which is nothing but -bumptious barbarity. Here the pupils learn to speak of our unique -<i>Schiller</i> with the superciliousness of prigs; here they are taught to -smile at the noblest and most German of his works—at the Marquis of -Posa, at Max and Thekla—at these smiles German genius becomes -incensed and a worthier posterity will blush.</p> - -<p>"The last department in which the German teacher in a public school is -at all active, which is often regarded as his sphere of highest -activity, and is here and there even considered the pinnacle of public -school education, is the so-called <i>German composition</i>. Owing to the -very fact that in this department it is almost always the most gifted -pupils who display the greatest eagerness, it ought to have been made -clear how dangerously stimulating, precisely here, the task of the -teacher must be. <i>German composition</i> makes an appeal to the -individual, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>the more strongly a pupil is conscious of his various -qualities, the more personally will he do his <i>German composition</i>. -This 'personal doing' is urged on with yet an additional fillip in -some public schools by the choice of the subject, the strongest proof -of which is, in my opinion, that even in the lower classes the -non-pedagogic subject is set, by means of which the pupil is led to -give a description of his life and of his development. Now, one has -only to read the titles of the compositions set in a large number of -public schools to be convinced that probably the large majority of -pupils have to suffer their whole lives, through no fault of their -own, owing to this premature demand for personal work—for the unripe -procreation of thoughts. And how often are not all a man's subsequent -literary performances but a sad result of this pedagogic original sin -against the intellect!</p> - -<p>"Let us only think of what takes place at such an age in the -production of such work. It is the first individual creation; the -still undeveloped powers tend for the first time to crystallise; the -staggering sensation produced by the demand for self-reliance imparts -a seductive charm to these early performances, which is not only quite -new, but which never returns. All the daring of nature is hauled out -of its depths; all vanities—no longer constrained by mighty -barriers—are allowed for the first time to assume a literary form: -the young man, from that time forward, feels as if he had reached his -consummation as a being not only able, but actually invited, to speak -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> -and to converse. The subject he selects obliges him either to express -his judgment upon certain poetical works, to class historical persons -together in a description of character, to discuss serious ethical -problems quite independently, or even to turn the searchlight inwards, -to throw its rays upon his own development and to make a critical -report of himself: in short, a whole world of reflection is spread out -before the astonished young man who, until then, had been almost -unconscious, and is delivered up to him to be judged.</p> - -<p>"Now let us try to picture the teacher's usual attitude towards these -first highly influential examples of original composition. What does -he hold to be most reprehensible in this class of work? What does he -call his pupil's attention to?—To all excess in form or thought—that -is to say, to all that which, at their age, is essentially -characteristic and individual. Their really independent traits which, -in response to this very premature excitation, can manifest themselves -only in awkwardness, crudeness, and grotesque features,—in short, -their individuality is reproved and rejected by the teacher in favour -of an unoriginal decent average. On the other hand, uniform mediocrity -gets peevish praise; for, as a rule, it is just the class of work -likely to bore the teacher thoroughly.</p> - -<p>"There may still be men who recognise a most absurd and most dangerous -element of the public school curriculum in the whole farce of this -German composition. Originality is demanded here: but the only shape -in which it can manifest itself is rejected, and the 'formal' -education that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>the system takes for granted is attained to only by a -very limited number of men who complete it at a ripe age. Here -everybody without exception is regarded as gifted for literature and -considered as capable of holding opinions concerning the most -important questions and people, whereas the one aim which proper -education should most zealously strive to achieve would be the -suppression of all ridiculous claims to independent judgment, and the -inculcation upon young men of obedience to the sceptre of genius. Here -a pompous form of diction is taught in an age when every spoken or -written word is a piece of barbarism. Now let us consider, besides, -the danger of arousing the self-complacency which is so easily -awakened in youths; let us think how their vanity must be flattered -when they see their literary reflection for the first time in the -mirror. Who, having seen all these effects at <i>one</i> glance, could any -longer doubt whether all the faults of our public, literary, and -artistic life were not stamped upon every fresh generation by the -system we are examining: hasty and vain production, the disgraceful -manufacture of books; complete want of style; the crude, -characterless, or sadly swaggering method of expression; the loss of -every æsthetic canon; the voluptuousness of anarchy and chaos—in -short, the literary peculiarities of both our journalism and our -scholarship.</p> - -<p>"None but the very fewest are aware that, among many thousands, -perhaps only <i>one</i> is justified in describing himself as literary, and -that all others who at their own risk try to be so deserve to be met -with Homeric laughter by all <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>competent men as a reward for every -sentence they have ever had printed;—for it is truly a spectacle meet -for the gods to see a literary Hephaistos limping forward who would -pretend to help us to something. To educate men to earnest and -inexorable habits and views, in this respect, should be the highest -aim of all mental training, whereas the general <i>laisser aller</i> of the -'fine personality' can be nothing else than the hall-mark of -barbarism. From what I have said, however, it must be clear that, at -least in the teaching of German, no thought is given to culture; -something quite different is in view,—namely, the production of the -afore-mentioned 'free personality.' And so long as German public -schools prepare the road for outrageous and irresponsible scribbling, -so long as they do not regard the immediate and practical discipline -of speaking and writing as their most holy duty, so long as they treat -the mother-tongue as if it were only a necessary evil or a dead body, -I shall not regard these institutions as belonging to real culture.</p> - -<p>"In regard to the language, what is surely least noticeable is any -trace of the influence of <i>classical examples</i>: that is why, on the -strength of this consideration alone, the so-called 'classical -education' which is supposed to be provided by our public school, -strikes me as something exceedingly doubtful and confused. For how -could anybody, after having cast one glance at those examples, fail to -see the great earnestness with which the Greek and the Roman regarded -and treated his language, from his youth onwards—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>how is it possible -to mistake one's example on a point like this one?—provided, of -course, that the classical Hellenic and Roman world really did hover -before the educational plan of our public schools as the highest and -most instructive of all morals—a fact I feel very much inclined to -doubt. The claim put forward by public schools concerning the -'classical education' they provide seems to be more an awkward evasion -than anything else; it is used whenever there is any question raised -as to the competency of the public schools to impart culture and to -educate. Classical education, indeed! It sounds so dignified! It -confounds the aggressor and staves off the assault—for who could see -to the bottom of this bewildering formula all at once? And this has -long been the customary strategy of the public school: from whichever -side the war-cry may come, it writes upon its shield—not overloaded -with honours—one of those confusing catchwords, such as: 'classical -education,' 'formal education,' 'scientific education':—three -glorious things which are, however, unhappily at loggerheads, not only -with themselves but among themselves, and are such that, if they were -compulsorily brought together, would perforce bring forth a -culture-monster. For a 'classical education' is something so unheard -of, difficult and rare, and exacts such complicated talent, that only -ingenuousness or impudence could put it forward as an attainable goal -in our public schools. The words: 'formal education' belong to that -crude kind of unphilosophical phraseology which one should do one's -utmost <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>to get rid of; for there is no such thing as 'the opposite of -formal education.' And he who regards 'scientific education' as the -object of a public school thereby sacrifices 'classical education' and -the so-called 'formal education,' at one stroke, as the scientific man -and the cultured man belong to two different spheres which, though -coming together at times in the same individual, are never reconciled.</p> - -<p>"If we compare all three of these would-be aims of the public school -with the actual facts to be observed in the present method of teaching -German, we see immediately what they really amount to in -practice,—that is to say, only to subterfuges for use in the fight -and struggle for existence and, often enough, mere means wherewith to -bewilder an opponent. For we are unable to detect any single feature -in this teaching of German which in any way recalls the example of -classical antiquity and its glorious methods of training in languages. -'Formal education,' however, which is supposed to be achieved by this -method of teaching German, has been shown to be wholly at the pleasure -of the 'free personality,' which is as good as saying that it is -barbarism and anarchy. And as for the preparation in science, which is -one of the consequences of this teaching, our Germanists will have to -determine, in all justice, how little these learned beginnings in -public schools have contributed to the splendour of their sciences, -and how much the personality of individual university professors has -done so.—Put briefly: <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>the public school has hitherto neglected its -most important and most urgent duty towards the very beginning of all -real culture, which is the mother-tongue; but in so doing it has -lacked the natural, fertile soil for all further efforts at culture. -For only by means of stern, artistic, and careful discipline and -habit, in a language, can the correct feeling for the greatness of our -classical writers be strengthened. Up to the present their recognition -by the public schools has been owing almost solely to the doubtful -æsthetic hobbies of a few teachers or to the massive effects of -certain of their tragedies and novels. But everybody should, himself, -be aware of the difficulties of the language: he should have learnt -them from experience: after long seeking and struggling he must reach -the path our great poets trod in order to be able to realise how -lightly and beautifully they trod it, and how stiffly and swaggeringly -the others follow at their heels.</p> - -<p>"Only by means of such discipline can the young man acquire that -physical loathing for the beloved and much-admired 'elegance' of style -of our newspaper manufacturers and novelists, and for the 'ornate -style' of our literary men; by it alone is he irrevocably elevated at -a stroke above a whole host of absurd questions and scruples, such, -for instance, as whether Auerbach and Gutzkow are really poets, for -his disgust at both will be so great that he will be unable to read -them any longer, and thus the problem will be solved for him. Let no -one imagine that it is an easy matter to develop this feeling to the -extent <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>necessary in order to have this physical loathing; but let no -one hope to reach sound æsthetic judgments along any other road than -the thorny one of language, and by this I do not mean philological -research, but self-discipline in one's mother-tongue.</p> - -<p>"Everybody who is in earnest in this matter will have the same sort of -experience as the recruit in the army who is compelled to learn -walking after having walked almost all his life as a dilettante or -empiricist. It is a hard time: one almost fears that the tendons are -going to snap and one ceases to hope that the artificial and -consciously acquired movements and positions of the feet will ever be -carried out with ease and comfort. It is painful to see how awkwardly -and heavily one foot is set before the other, and one dreads that one -may not only be unable to learn the new way of walking, but that one -will forget how to walk at all. Then it suddenly become noticeable -that a new habit and a second nature have been born of the practised -movements, and that the assurance and strength of the old manner of -walking returns with a little more grace: at this point one begins to -realise how difficult walking is, and one feels in a position to laugh -at the untrained empiricist or the elegant dilettante. Our 'elegant' -writers, as their style shows, have never learnt 'walking' in this -sense, and in our public schools, as our other writers show, no one -learns walking either. Culture begins, however, with the correct -movement of the language: and once it has properly begun, it begets -that physical <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>sensation in the presence of 'elegant' writers which is -known by the name of 'loathing.'</p> - -<p>"We recognise the fatal consequences of our present public schools, in -that they are unable to inculcate severe and genuine culture, which -should consist above all in obedience and habituation; and that, at -their best, they much more often achieve a result by stimulating and -kindling scientific tendencies, is shown by the hand which is so -frequently seen uniting scholarship and barbarous taste, science and -journalism. In a very large majority of cases to-day we can observe -how sadly our scholars fall short of the standard of culture which the -efforts of Goethe, Schiller, Lessing, and Winckelmann established; and -this falling short shows itself precisely in the egregious errors -which the men we speak of are exposed to, equally among literary -historians—whether Gervinus or Julian Schmidt—as in any other -company; everywhere, indeed, where men and women converse. It shows -itself most frequently and painfully, however, in pedagogic spheres, -in the literature of public schools. It can be proved that the only -value that these men have in a real educational establishment has not -been mentioned, much less generally recognised for half a century: -their value as preparatory leaders and mystogogues of classical -culture, guided by whose hands alone can the correct road leading to -antiquity be found.</p> - -<p>"Every so-called classical education can have but one natural -starting-point—an artistic, earnest, and exact familiarity with the -use of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>mother-tongue: this, together with the secret of form, -however, one can seldom attain to of one's own accord, almost -everybody requires those great leaders and tutors and must place -himself in their hands. There is, however, no such thing as a -classical education that could grow without this inferred love of -form. Here, where the power of discerning form and barbarity gradually -awakens, there appear the pinions which bear one to the only real home -of culture—ancient Greece. If with the solitary help of those pinions -we sought to reach those far-distant and diamond-studded walls -encircling the stronghold of Hellenism, we should certainly not get -very far; once more, therefore, we need the same leaders and tutors, -our German classical writers, that we may be borne up, too, by the -wing-strokes of their past endeavours—to the land of yearning, to -Greece.</p> - -<p>"Not a suspicion of this possible relationship between our classics -and classical education seems to have pierced the antique walls of -public schools. Philologists seem much more eagerly engaged in -introducing Homer and Sophocles to the young souls of their pupils, in -their own style, calling the result simply by the unchallenged -euphemism: 'classical education.' Let every one's own experience tell -him what he had of Homer and Sophocles at the hands of such eager -teachers. It is in this department that the greatest number of deepest -deceptions occur, and whence misunderstandings are inadvertently -spread. In German public schools I have never yet found a trace of -what might really be called 'classical education,' and there is -nothing surprising in this when one thinks of the way in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>which these -institutions have emancipated themselves from German classical writers -and the discipline of the German language. Nobody reaches antiquity by -means of a leap into the dark, and yet the whole method of treating -ancient writers in schools, the plain commentating and paraphrasing of -our philological teachers, amounts to nothing more than a leap into -the dark.</p> - -<p>"The feeling for classical Hellenism is, as a matter of fact, such an -exceptional outcome of the most energetic fight for culture and -artistic talent that the public school could only have professed to -awaken this feeling owing to a very crude misunderstanding. In what -age? In an age which is led about blindly by the most sensational -desires of the day, and which is not aware of the fact that, once that -feeling for Hellenism is roused, it immediately becomes aggressive and -must express itself by indulging in an incessant war with the -so-called culture of the present. For the public school boy of to-day, -the Hellenes as Hellenes are dead: yes, he gets some enjoyment out of -Homer, but a novel by Spielhagen interests him much more: yes, he -swallows Greek tragedy and comedy with a certain relish, but a -thoroughly modern drama, like Freitag's 'Journalists,' moves him in -quite another fashion. In regard to all ancient authors he is rather -inclined to speak after the manner of the æsthete, Hermann Grimm, who, -on one occasion, at the end of a tortuous essay on the Venus of Milo, -asks himself: 'What does this goddess's form mean to me? Of what use -are the thoughts she suggests to me? Orestes and OEdipus, Iphigenia -and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>Antigone, what have they in common with my heart?'—No, my dear -public school boy, the Venus of Milo does not concern you in any way, -and concerns your teacher just as little—and that is the misfortune, -that is the secret of the modern public school. Who will conduct you -to the land of culture, if your leaders are blind and assume the -position of seers notwithstanding? Which of you will ever attain to a -true feeling for the sacred seriousness of art, if you are -systematically spoiled, and taught to stutter independently instead of -being taught to speak; to æstheticise on your own account, when you -ought to be taught to approach works of art almost piously; to -philosophise without assistance, while you ought to be compelled to -<i>listen</i> to great thinkers. All this with the result that you remain -eternally at a distance from antiquity and become the servants of the -day.</p> - -<p>"At all events, the most wholesome feature of our modern institutions -is to be found in the earnestness with which the Latin and Greek -languages are studied over a long course of years. In this way boys -learn to respect a grammar, lexicons, and a language that conforms to -fixed rules; in this department of public school work there is an -exact knowledge of what constitutes a fault, and no one is troubled -with any thought of justifying himself every minute by appealing (as -in the case of modern German) to various grammatical and -orthographical vagaries and vicious forms. If only this respect for -language did not hang in the air so, like a theoretical burden which -one is pleased to throw off the moment one turns to one's -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>mother-tongue! More often than not, the classical master makes pretty -short work of the mother-tongue; from the outset he treats it as a -department of knowledge in which one is allowed that indolent ease -with which the German treats everything that belongs to his native -soil. The splendid practice afforded by translating from one language -into another, which so improves and fertilises one's artistic feeling -for one's own tongue, is, in the case of German, never conducted with -that fitting categorical strictness and dignity which would be above -all necessary in dealing with an undisciplined language. Of late, -exercises of this kind have tended to decrease ever more and more: -people are satisfied to <i>know</i> the foreign classical tongues, they -would scorn being able to <i>apply</i> them.</p> - -<p>"Here one gets another glimpse of the scholarly tendency of public -schools: a phenomenon which throws much light upon the object which -once animated them,—that is to say, the serious desire to cultivate -the pupil. This belonged to the time of our great poets, those few -really cultured Germans,—the time when the magnificent Friedrich -August Wolf directed the new stream of classical thought, introduced -from Greece and Rome by those men, into the heart of the public -schools. Thanks to his bold start, a new order of public schools was -established, which thenceforward was not to be merely a nursery for -science, but, above all, the actual consecrated home of all higher and -nobler culture.</p> - -<p>"Of the many necessary measures which this change called into being, -some of the most <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>important have been transferred with lasting success -to the modern regulations of public schools: the most important of -all, however, did not succeed—the one demanding that the teacher, -also, should be consecrated to the new spirit, so that the aim of the -public school has meanwhile considerably departed from the original -plan laid down by Wolf, which was the cultivation of the pupil. The -old estimate of scholarship and scholarly culture, as an absolute, -which Wolf overcame, seems after a slow and spiritless struggle rather -to have taken the place of the culture-principle of more recent -introduction, and now claims its former exclusive rights, though not -with the same frankness, but disguised and with features veiled. And -the reason why it was impossible to make public schools fall in with -the magnificent plan of classical culture lay in the un-German, almost -foreign or cosmopolitan nature of these efforts in the cause of -education: in the belief that it was possible to remove the native -soil from under a man's feet and that he should still remain standing; -in the illusion that people can spring direct, without bridges, into -the strange Hellenic world, by abjuring German and the German mind in -general.</p> - -<p>"Of course one must know how to trace this Germanic spirit to its lair -beneath its many modern dressings, or even beneath heaps of ruins; one -must love it so that one is not ashamed of it in its stunted form, and -one must above all be on one's guard against confounding it with what -now disports itself proudly as 'Up-to-date German culture.' The German -spirit is very far from <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>being on friendly times with this up-to-date -culture: and precisely in those spheres where the latter complains of -a lack of culture the real German spirit has survived, though perhaps -not always with a graceful, but more often an ungraceful, exterior. On -the other hand, that which now grandiloquently assumes the title of -'German culture' is a sort of cosmopolitan aggregate, which bears the -same relation to the German spirit as Journalism does to Schiller or -Meyerbeer to Beethoven: here the strongest influence at work is the -fundamentally and thoroughly un-German civilisation of France, which -is aped neither with talent nor with taste, and the imitation of which -gives the society, the press, the art, and the literary style of -Germany their pharisaical character. Naturally the copy nowhere -produces the really artistic effect which the original, grown out of -the heart of Roman civilisation, is able to produce almost to this day -in France. Let any one who wishes to see the full force of this -contrast compare our most noted novelists with the less noted ones of -France or Italy: he will recognise in both the same doubtful -tendencies and aims, as also the same still more doubtful means, but -in France he will find them coupled with artistic earnestness, at -least with grammatical purity, and often with beauty, while in their -every feature he will recognise the echo of a corresponding social -culture. In Germany, on the other hand, they will strike him as -unoriginal, flabby, filled with dressing-gown thoughts and -expressions, unpleasantly spread out, and therewithal possessing no -background of social form. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>At the most, owing to their scholarly -mannerisms and display of knowledge, he will be reminded of the fact -that in Latin countries it is the artistically-trained man, and that -in Germany it is the abortive scholar, who becomes a journalist. With -this would-be German and thoroughly unoriginal culture, the German can -nowhere reckon upon victory: the Frenchman and the Italian will always -get the better of him in this respect, while, in regard to the clever -imitation of a foreign culture, the Russian, above all, will always be -his superior.</p> - -<p>"We are therefore all the more anxious to hold fast to that German -spirit which revealed itself in the German Reformation, and in German -music, and which has shown its enduring and genuine strength in the -enormous courage and severity of German philosophy and in the loyalty -of the German soldier, which has been tested quite recently. From it -we expect a victory over that 'up-to-date' pseudo-culture which is now -the fashion. What we should hope for the future is that schools may -draw the real school of culture into this struggle, and kindle the -flame of enthusiasm in the younger generation, more particularly in -public schools, for that which is truly German; and in this way -so-called classical education will resume its natural place and -recover its one possible starting-point.</p> - -<p>"A thorough reformation and purification of the public school can only -be the outcome of a profound and powerful reformation and purification -of the German spirit. It is a very complex and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>difficult task to find -the border-line which joins the heart of the Germanic spirit with the -genius of Greece. Not, however, before the noblest needs of genuine -German genius snatch at the hand of this genius of Greece as at a firm -post in the torrent of barbarity, not before a devouring yearning for -this genius of Greece takes possession of German genius, and not -before that view of the Greek home, on which Schiller and Goethe, -after enormous exertions, were able to feast their eyes, has become -the Mecca of the best and most gifted men, will the aim of classical -education in public schools acquire any definition; and they at least -will not be to blame who teach ever so little science and learning in -public schools, in order to keep a definite and at the same time ideal -aim in their eyes, and to rescue their pupils from that glistening -phantom which now allows itself to be called 'culture' and -'education.' This is the sad plight of the public school of to-day: -the narrowest views remain in a certain measure right, because no one -seems able to reach or, at least, to indicate the spot where all these -views culminate in error."</p> - -<p>"No one?" the philosopher's pupil inquired with a slight quaver in his -voice; and both men were silent.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> It is not practicable to translate these German solecisms by -similar instances of English solecisms. The reader who is interested -in the subject will find plenty of material in a book like the Oxford -<i>King's English</i>.</p></div> -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> German: <i>Formelle Bildung.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> German: <i>Materielle Bildung.</i></p></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> -<h4><a name="THIRD_LECTURE" id="THIRD_LECTURE">THIRD LECTURE.</a></h4> - -<h5>(<i>Delivered on the 27th of February 1872.</i>)</h5> - - -<p><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LADIES AND GENTLEME</span>N,—At the close of my last lecture, the -conversation to which I was a listener, and the outlines of which, as -I clearly recollect them, I am now trying to lay before you, was -interrupted by a long and solemn pause. Both the philosopher and his -companion sat silent, sunk in deep dejection: the peculiarly critical -state of that important educational institution, the German public -school, lay upon their souls like a heavy burden, which one single, -well-meaning individual is not strong enough to remove, and the -multitude, though strong, not well meaning enough.</p> - -<p>Our solitary thinkers were perturbed by two facts: by clearly -perceiving on the one hand that what might rightly be called -"classical education" was now only a far-off ideal, a castle in the -air, which could not possibly be built as a reality on the foundations -of our present educational system, and that, on the other hand, what -was now, with customary and unopposed euphemism, pointed to as -"classical education" could only claim the value of a pretentious -illusion, the best effect of which was that the expression "classical -education" still lived on and had not yet lost its pathetic sound. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>These two worthy men saw clearly, by the system of instruction in -vogue, that the time was not yet ripe for a higher culture, a culture -founded upon that of the ancients: the neglected state of linguistic -instruction; the forcing of students into learned historical paths, -instead of giving them a practical training; the connection of certain -practices, encouraged in the public schools, with the objectionable -spirit of our journalistic publicity—all these easily perceptible -phenomena of the teaching of German led to the painful certainty that -the most beneficial of those forces which have come down to us from -classical antiquity are not yet known in our public schools: forces -which would train students for the struggle against the barbarism of -the present age, and which will perhaps once more transform the public -schools into the arsenals and workshops of this struggle.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, it would seem in the meantime as if the spirit of -antiquity, in its fundamental principles, had already been driven away -from the portals of the public schools, and as if here also the gates -were thrown open as widely as possible to the be-flattered and -pampered type of our present self-styled "German culture." And if the -solitary talkers caught a glimpse of a single ray of hope, it was that -things would have to become still worse, that what was as yet divined -only by the few would soon be clearly perceived by the many, and that -then the time for honest and resolute men for the earnest -consideration of the scope of the education of the masses would not be -far distant.</p> - -<p>After a few minutes' silent reflection, the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>philosopher's companion -turned to him and said: "You used to hold out hopes to me, but now you -have done more: you have widened my intelligence, and with it my -strength and courage: now indeed can I look on the field of battle -with more hardihood, now indeed do I repent of my too hasty flight. We -want nothing for ourselves, and it should be nothing to us how many -individuals may fall in this battle, or whether we ourselves may be -among the first. Just because we take this matter so seriously, we -should not take our own poor selves so seriously: at the very moment -we are falling some one else will grasp the banner of our faith. I -will not even consider whether I am strong enough for such a fight, -whether I can offer sufficient resistance; it may even be an -honourable death to fall to the accompaniment of the mocking laughter -of such enemies, whose seriousness has frequently seemed to us to be -something ridiculous. When I think how my contemporaries prepared -themselves for the highest posts in the scholastic profession, as I -myself have done, then I know how we often laughed at the exact -contrary, and grew serious over something quite different——"</p> - -<p>"Now, my friend," interrupted the philosopher, laughingly, "you speak -as one who would fain dive into the water without being able to swim, -and who fears something even more than the mere drowning; <i>not</i> being -drowned, but laughed at. But being laughed at should be the very last -thing for us to dread; for we are in a sphere where there are too many -truths to tell, too many formidable, painful, unpardonable truths, for -us to escape hatred, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>and only fury here and there will give rise to -some sort of embarrassed laughter. Just think of the innumerable crowd -of teachers, who, in all good faith, have assimilated the system of -education which has prevailed up to the present, that they may -cheerfully and without over-much deliberation carry it further on. -What do you think it will seem like to these men when they hear of -projects from which they are excluded <i>beneficio naturæ</i>; of commands -which their mediocre abilities are totally unable to carry out; of -hopes which find no echo in them; of battles the war-cries of which -they do not understand, and in the fighting of which they can take -part only as dull and obtuse rank and file? But, without exaggeration, -that must necessarily be the position of practically all the teachers -in our higher educational establishments: and indeed we cannot wonder -at this when we consider how such a teacher originates, how he -<i>becomes</i> a teacher of such high status. Such a large number of higher -educational establishments are now to be found everywhere that far -more teachers will continue to be required for them than the nature of -even a highly-gifted people can produce; and thus an inordinate stream -of undesirables flows into these institutions, who, however, by their -preponderating numbers and their instinct of 'similis simile gaudet' -gradually come to determine the nature of these institutions. There -may be a few people, hopelessly unfamiliar with pedagogical matters, -who believe that our present profusion of public schools and teachers, -which is manifestly out of all proportion, can be changed into a real -profusion, an <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span><i>ubertas ingenii</i>, merely by a few rules and -regulations, and without any reduction in the number of these -institutions. But we may surely be unanimous in recognising that by -the very nature of things only an exceedingly small number of people -are destined for a true course of education, and that a much smaller -number of higher educational establishments would suffice for their -further development, but that, in view of the present large numbers of -educational institutions, those for whom in general such institutions -ought only to be established must feel themselves to be the least -facilitated in their progress.</p> - -<p>"The same holds good in regard to teachers. It is precisely the best -teachers—those who, generally speaking, judged by a high standard, -are worthy of this honourable name—who are now perhaps the least -fitted, in view of the present standing of our public schools, for the -education of these unselected youths, huddled together in a confused -heap; but who must rather, to a certain extent, keep hidden from them -the best they could give: and, on the other hand, by far the larger -number of these teachers feel themselves quite at home in these -institutions, as their moderate abilities stand in a kind of -harmonious relationship to the dullness of their pupils. It is from -this majority that we hear the ever-resounding call for the -establishment of new public schools and higher educational -institutions: we are living in an age which, by ringing the changes on -its deafening and continual cry, would certainly give one the -impression that there was an unprecedented thirst for culture which -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> -eagerly sought to be quenched. But it is just at this point that one -should learn to hear aright: it is here, without being disconcerted by -the thundering noise of the education-mongers, that we must confront -those who talk so tirelessly about the educational necessities of -their time. Then we should meet with a strange disillusionment, one -which we, my good friend, have often met with: those blatant heralds -of educational needs, when examined at close quarters, are suddenly -seen to be transformed into zealous, yea, fanatical opponents of true -culture, <i>i.e.</i> all those who hold fast to the aristocratic nature of -the mind; for, at bottom, they regard as their goal the emancipation -of the masses from the mastery of the great few; they seek to -overthrow the most sacred hierarchy in the kingdom of the -intellect—the servitude of the masses, their submissive obedience, -their instinct of loyalty to the rule of genius.</p> - -<p>"I have long accustomed myself to look with caution upon those who are -ardent in the cause of the so-called 'education of the people' in the -common meaning of the phrase; since for the most part they desire for -themselves, consciously or unconsciously, absolutely unlimited -freedom, which must inevitably degenerate into something resembling -the saturnalia of barbaric times, and which the sacred hierarchy of -nature will never grant them. They were born to serve and to obey; and -every moment in which their limping or crawling or broken-winded -thoughts are at work shows us clearly out of which clay nature moulded -them, and what trade mark she branded thereon. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>The education of the -masses cannot, therefore, be our aim; but rather the education of a -few picked men for great and lasting works. We well know that a just -posterity judges the collective intellectual state of a time only by -those few great and lonely figures of the period, and gives its -decision in accordance with the manner in which they are recognised, -encouraged, and honoured, or, on the other hand, in which they are -snubbed, elbowed aside, and kept down. What is called the 'education -of the masses' cannot be accomplished except with difficulty; and even -if a system of universal compulsory education be applied, they can -only be reached outwardly: those individual lower levels where, -generally speaking, the masses come into contact with culture, where -the people nourishes its religious instinct, where it poetises its -mythological images, where it keeps up its faith in its customs, -privileges, native soil, and language—all these levels can scarcely -be reached by direct means, and in any case only by violent -demolition. And, in serious matters of this kind, to hasten forward -the progress of the education of the people means simply the -postponement of this violent demolition, and the maintenance of that -wholesome unconsciousness, that sound sleep, of the people, without -which counter-action and remedy no culture, with the exhausting strain -and excitement of its own actions, can make any headway.</p> - -<p>"We know, however, what the aspiration is of those who would disturb -the healthy slumber of the people, and continually call out to them: -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>'Keep your eyes open! Be sensible! Be wise!' we know the aim of those -who profess to satisfy excessive educational requirements by means of -an extraordinary increase in the number of educational institutions -and the conceited tribe of teachers originated thereby. These very -people, using these very means, are fighting against the natural -hierarchy in the realm of the intellect, and destroying the roots of -all those noble and sublime plastic forces which have their material -origin in the unconsciousness of the people, and which fittingly -terminate in the procreation of genius and its due guidance and proper -training. It is only in the simile of the mother that we can grasp the -meaning and the responsibility of the true education of the people in -respect to genius: its real origin is not to be found in such -education; it has, so to speak, only a metaphysical source, a -metaphysical home. But for the genius to make his appearance; for him -to emerge from among the people; to portray the reflected picture, as -it were, the dazzling brilliancy of the peculiar colours of this -people; to depict the noble destiny of a people in the similitude of -an individual in a work which will last for all time, thereby making -his nation itself eternal, and redeeming it from the ever-shifting -element of transient things: all this is possible for the genius only -when he has been brought up and come to maturity in the tender care of -the culture of a people; whilst, on the other hand, without this -sheltering home, the genius will not, generally speaking, be able to -rise to the height of his eternal flight, but will at an early moment, -like a stranger <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>weather-driven upon a bleak, snow-covered desert, -slink away from the inhospitable land."</p> - -<p>"You astonish me with such a metaphysics of genius," said the -teacher's companion, "and I have only a hazy conception of the -accuracy of your similitude. On the other hand, I fully understand -what you have said about the surplus of public schools and the -corresponding surplus of higher grade teachers; and in this regard I -myself have collected some information which assures me that the -educational tendency of the public school <i>must</i> right itself by this -very surplus of teachers who have really nothing at all to do with -education, and who are called into existence and pursue this path -solely because there is a demand for them. Every man who, in an -unexpected moment of enlightenment, has convinced himself of the -singularity and inaccessibility of Hellenic antiquity, and has warded -off this conviction after an exhausting struggle—every such man knows -that the door leading to this enlightenment will never remain open to -all comers; and he deems it absurd, yea disgraceful, to use the Greeks -as he would any other tool he employs when following his profession or -earning his living, shamelessly fumbling with coarse hands amidst the -relics of these holy men. This brazen and vulgar feeling is, however, -most common in the profession from which the largest numbers of -teachers for the public schools are drawn, the philological -profession, wherefore the reproduction and continuation of such a -feeling in the public school will not surprise us.</p> - -<p>"Just look at the younger generation of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>philologists: how seldom we -see in them that humble feeling that we, when compared with such a -world as it was, have no right to exist at all: how coolly and -fearlessly, as compared with us, did that young brood build its -miserable nests in the midst of the magnificent temples! A powerful -voice from every nook and cranny should ring in the ears of those who, -from the day they begin their connection with the university, roam at -will with such self-complacency and shamelessness among the -awe-inspiring relics of that noble civilisation: 'Hence, ye -uninitiated, who will never be initiated; fly away in silence and -shame from these sacred chambers!' But this voice speaks in vain; for -one must to some extent be a Greek to understand a Greek curse of -excommunication. But these people I am speaking of are so barbaric -that they dispose of these relics to suit themselves: all their modern -conveniences and fancies are brought with them and concealed among -those ancient pillars and tombstones, and it gives rise to great -rejoicing when somebody finds, among the dust and cobwebs of -antiquity, something that he himself had slyly hidden there not so -very long before. One of them makes verses and takes care to consult -Hesychius' Lexicon. Something there immediately assures him that he is -destined to be an imitator of Æschylus, and leads him to believe, -indeed, that he 'has something in common with' Æschylus: the miserable -poetaster! Yet another peers with the suspicious eye of a policeman -into every contradiction, feven into <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>the shadow of every -contradiction, of which Homer was guilty: he fritters away his life in -tearing Homeric rags to tatters and sewing them together again, rags -that he himself was the first to filch from the poet's kingly robe. A -third feels ill at ease when examining all the mysterious and -orgiastic sides of antiquity: he makes up his mind once and for all to -let the enlightened Apollo alone pass without dispute, and to see in -the Athenian a gay and intelligent but nevertheless somewhat immoral -Apollonian. What a deep breath he draws when he succeeds in raising -yet another dark corner of antiquity to the level of his own -intelligence!—when, for example, he discovers in Pythagoras a -colleague who is as enthusiastic as himself in arguing about politics. -Another racks his brains as to why OEdipus was condemned by fate to -perform such abominable deeds—killing his father, marrying his -mother. Where lies the blame! Where the poetic justice! Suddenly it -occurs to him: OEdipus was a passionate fellow, lacking all Christian -gentleness—he even fell into an unbecoming rage when Tiresias called -him a monster and the curse of the whole country. Be humble and meek! -was what Sophocles tried to teach, otherwise you will have to marry -your mothers and kill your fathers! Others, again, pass their lives in -counting the number of verses written by Greek and Roman poets, and -are delighted with the proportions 7:13 = 14:26. Finally, one of them -brings forward his solution of a question, such as the Homeric poems -considered from the standpoint<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> of prepositions, and thinks he has -drawn the truth from the bottom of the well with ἀνά and κατά. All -of them, however, with the most widely separated aims in view, dig and -burrow in Greek soil with a restlessness and a blundering awkwardness -that must surely be painful to a true friend of antiquity: and thus it -comes to pass that I should like to take by the hand every talented or -talentless man who feels a certain professional inclination urging him -on to the study of antiquity, and harangue him as follows: 'Young sir, -do you know what perils threaten you, with your little stock of school -learning, before you become a man in the full sense of the word? Have -you heard that, according to Aristotle, it is by no means a tragic -death to be slain by a statue? Does that surprise you? Know, then, -that for centuries philologists have been trying, with ever-failing -strength, to re-erect the fallen statue of Greek antiquity, but -without success; for it is a colossus around which single individual -men crawl like pygmies. The leverage of the united representatives of -modern culture is utilised for the purpose; but it invariably happens -that the huge column is scarcely more than lifted from the ground when -it falls down again, crushing beneath its weight the luckless wights -under it. That, however, may be tolerated, for every being must perish -by some means or other; but who is there to guarantee that during all -these attempts the statue itself will not break in pieces! The -philologists are being crushed by the Greeks—perhaps we can <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>put up -with this—but antiquity itself threatens to be crushed by these -philologists! Think that over, you easy-going young man; and turn -back, lest you too should not be an iconoclast!'"</p> - -<p>"Indeed," said the philosopher, laughing, "there are many philologists -who have turned back as you so much desire, and I notice a great -contrast with my own youthful experience. Consciously or -unconsciously, large numbers of them have concluded that it is -hopeless and useless for them to come into direct contact with -classical antiquity, hence they are inclined to look upon this study -as barren, superseded, out-of-date. This herd has turned with much -greater zest to the science of language: here in this wide expanse of -virgin soil, where even the most mediocre gifts can be turned to -account, and where a kind of insipidity and dullness is even looked -upon as decided talent, with the novelty and uncertainty of methods -and the constant danger of making fantastic mistakes—here, where dull -regimental routine and discipline are desiderata—here the newcomer is -no longer frightened by the majestic and warning voice that rises from -the ruins of antiquity: here every one is welcomed with open arms, -including even him who never arrived at any uncommon impression or -noteworthy thought after a perusal of Sophocles and Aristophanes, with -the result that they end in an etymological tangle, or are seduced -into collecting the fragments of out-of-the-way dialects—and their -time is spent in associating and dissociating, collecting and -scattering, and running hither and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>thither consulting books. And such -a usefully employed philologist would now fain be a teacher! He now -undertakes to teach the youth of the public schools something about -the ancient writers, although he himself has read them without any -particular impression, much less with insight! What a dilemma! -Antiquity has said nothing to him, consequently he has nothing to say -about antiquity. A sudden thought strikes him: why is he a skilled -philologist at all! Why did these authors write Latin and Greek! And -with a light heart he immediately begins to etymologise with Homer, -calling Lithuanian or Ecclesiastical Slavonic, or, above all, the -sacred Sanskrit, to his assistance: as if Greek lessons were merely -the excuse for a general introduction to the study of languages, and -as if Homer were lacking in only one respect, namely, not being -written in pre-Indogermanic. Whoever is acquainted with our present -public schools well knows what a wide gulf separates their teachers -from classicism, and how, from a feeling of this want, comparative -philology and allied professions have increased their numbers to such -an unheard-of degree."</p> - -<p>"What I mean is," said the other, "it would depend upon whether a -teacher of classical culture did <i>not</i> confuse his Greeks and Romans -with the other peoples, the barbarians, whether he could <i>never</i> put -Greek and Latin <i>on a level with</i> other languages: so far as his -classicalism is concerned, it is a matter of indifference whether the -framework of these languages concurs with or is in any way related to -the other languages: such a concurrence <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>does not interest him at all; -his real concern is with <i>what is not common to both</i>, with what shows -him that those two peoples were not barbarians as compared with the -others—in so far, of course, as he is a true teacher of culture and -models himself after the majestic patterns of the classics."</p> - -<p>"I may be wrong," said the philosopher, "but I suspect that, owing to -the way in which Latin and Greek are now taught in schools, the -accurate grasp of these languages, the ability to speak and write them -with ease, is lost, and that is something in which my own generation -distinguished itself—a generation, indeed, whose few survivers have -by this time grown old; whilst, on the other hand, the present -teachers seem to impress their pupils with the genetic and historical -importance of the subject to such an extent that, at best, their -scholars ultimately turn into little Sanskritists, etymological -spitfires, or reckless conjecturers; but not one of them can read his -Plato or Tacitus with pleasure, as we old folk can. The public schools -may still be seats of learning: not, however of <i>the</i> learning which, -as it were, is only the natural and involuntary auxiliary of a culture -that is directed towards the noblest ends; but rather of that culture -which might be compared to the hypertrophical swelling of an unhealthy -body. The public schools are certainly the seats of this obesity, if, -indeed, they have not degenerated into the abodes of that elegant -barbarism which is boasted of as being 'German culture of the -present!'"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>"But," asked the other, "what is to become of that large body of -teachers who have not been endowed with a true gift for culture, and -who set up as teachers merely to gain a livelihood from the -profession, because there is a demand for them, because a superfluity -of schools brings with it a superfluity of teachers? Where shall they -go when antiquity peremptorily orders them to withdraw? Must they not -be sacrificed to those powers of the present who, day after day, call -out to them from the never-ending columns of the press 'We are -culture! We are education! We are at the zenith! We are the apexes of -the pyramids! We are the aims of universal history!'—when they hear -the seductive promises, when the shameful signs of non-culture, the -plebeian publicity of the so-called 'interests of culture' are -extolled for their benefit in magazines and newspapers as an entirely -new and the best possible, full-grown form of culture! Whither shall -the poor fellows fly when they feel the presentiment that these -promises are not true—where but to the most obtuse, sterile -scientificality, that here the shriek of culture may no longer be -audible to them? Pursued in this way, must they not end, like the -ostrich, by burying their heads in the sand? Is it not a real -happiness for them, buried as they are among dialects, etymologies, -and conjectures, to lead a life like that of the ants, even though -they are miles removed from true culture, if only they can close their -ears tightly and be deaf to the voice of the 'elegant' culture of the -time."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>"You are right, my friend," said the philosopher, "but whence comes the -urgent necessity for a surplus of schools for culture, which further -gives rise to the necessity for a surplus of teachers?—when we so -clearly see that the demand for a surplus springs from a sphere which is -hostile to culture, and that the consequences of this surplus only lead -to non-culture. Indeed, we can discuss this dire necessity only in so -far as the modern State is willing to discuss these things with us, and -is prepared to follow up its demands by force: which phenomenon -certainly makes the same impression upon most people as if they were -addressed by the eternal law of things. For the rest, a 'Culture-State,' -to use the current expression, which makes such demands, is rather a -novelty, and has only come to a 'self-understanding' within the last -half century, <i>i.e.</i> in a period when (to use the favourite popular -word) so many 'self-understood' things came into being, but which are in -themselves not 'self-understood' at all. This right to higher education -has been taken so seriously by the most powerful of modern -States—Prussia—that the objectionable principle it has adopted, taken -in connection with the well-known daring and hardihood of this State, is -seen to have a menacing and dangerous consequence for the true German -spirit; for we see endeavours being made in this quarter to raise the -public school, formally systematised, up to the so-called 'level of the -time.' Here is to be found all that mechanism by means of which as many -scholars as possible are urged on to take up courses of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>public school -training: here, indeed, the State has its most powerful inducement—the -concession of certain privileges respecting military service, with the -natural consequence that, according to the unprejudiced evidence of -statistical officials, by this, and by this only, can we explain the -universal congestion of all Prussian public schools, and the urgent and -continual need for new ones. What more can the State do for a surplus of -educational institutions than bring all the higher and the majority of -the lower civil service appointments, the right of entry to the -universities, and even the most influential military posts into close -connection with the public school: and all this in a country where both -universal military service and the highest offices of the State -unconsciously attract all gifted natures to them. The public school is -here looked upon as an honourable aim, and every one who feels himself -urged on to the sphere of government will be found on his way to it. -This is a new and quite original occurrence: the State assumes the -attitude of a mystogogue of culture, and, whilst it promotes its own -ends, it obliges every one of its servants not to appear in its presence -without the torch of universal State education in their hands, by the -flickering light of which they may again recognise the State as the -highest goal, as the reward of all their strivings after education.</p> - -<p>"Now this last phenomenon should indeed surprise them; it should -remind them of that allied, slowly understood tendency of a philosophy -which was formerly promoted for reasons of State, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>namely, the -tendency of the Hegelian philosophy: yea, it would perhaps be no -exaggeration to say that, in the subordination of all strivings after -education to reasons of State, Prussia has appropriated, with success, -the principle and the useful heirloom of the Hegelian philosophy, -whose apotheosis of the State in <i>this</i> subordination certainly -reaches its height."</p> - -<p>"But," said the philosopher's companion, "what purposes can the State -have in view with such a strange aim? For that it has some State -objects in view is seen in the manner in which the conditions of -Prussian schools are admired by, meditated upon, and occasionally -imitated by other States. These other States obviously presuppose -something here that, if adopted, would tend towards the maintenance -and power of the State, like our well-known and popular conscription. -Where everyone proudly wears his soldier's uniform at regular -intervals, where almost every one has absorbed a uniform type of -national culture through the public schools, enthusiastic hyperboles -may well be uttered concerning the systems employed in former times, -and a form of State omnipotence which was attained only in antiquity, -and which almost every young man, by both instinct and training, -thinks it is the crowning glory and highest aim of human beings to -reach."</p> - -<p>"Such a comparison," said the philosopher, "would be quite -hyperbolical, and would not hobble along on one leg only. For, indeed, -the ancient State emphatically did not share the utilitarian point of -view of recognising as culture only <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>what was directly useful to the -State itself, and was far from wishing to destroy those impulses which -did not seem to be immediately applicable. For this very reason the -profound Greek had for the State that strong feeling of admiration and -thankfulness which is so distasteful to modern men; because he clearly -recognised not only that without such State protection the germs of -his culture could not develop, but also that all his inimitable and -perennial culture had flourished so luxuriantly under the wise and -careful guardianship of the protection afforded by the State. The -State was for his culture not a supervisor, regulator, and watchman, -but a vigorous and muscular companion and friend, ready for war, who -accompanied his noble, admired, and, as it were, ethereal friend -through disagreeable reality, earning his thanks therefor. This, -however, does not happen when a modern State lays claim to such hearty -gratitude because it renders such chivalrous service to German culture -and art: for in this regard its past is as ignominious as its present, -as a proof of which we have but to think of the manner in which the -memory of our great poets and artists is celebrated in German cities, -and how the highest objects of these German masters are supported on -the part of the State.</p> - -<p>"There must therefore be peculiar circumstances surrounding both this -purpose towards which the State is tending, and which always promotes -what is here called 'education'; and surrounding likewise the culture -thus promoted, which subordinates itself to this purpose of the State. -With the real German spirit and the education derived therefrom, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>such -as I have slowly outlined for you, this purpose of the State is at -war, hiddenly or openly: <i>the</i> spirit of education, which is welcomed -and encouraged with such interest by the State, and owing to which the -schools of this country are so much admired abroad, must accordingly -originate in a sphere that never comes into contact with this true -German spirit: with that spirit which speaks to us so wondrously from -the inner heart of the German Reformation, German music, and German -philosophy, and which, like a noble exile, is regarded with such -indifference and scorn by the luxurious education afforded by the -State. This spirit is a stranger: it passes by in solitary sadness, -and far away from it the censer of pseudo-culture is swung backwards -and forwards, which, amidst the acclamations of 'educated' teachers -and journalists, arrogates to itself its name and privileges, and -metes out insulting treatment to the word 'German.' Why does the State -require that surplus of educational institutions, of teachers? Why -this education of the masses on such an extended scale? Because the -true German spirit is hated, because the aristocratic nature of true -culture is feared, because the people endeavour in this way to drive -single great individuals into self-exile, so that the claims of the -masses to education may be, so to speak, planted down and carefully -tended, in order that the many may in this way endeavour to escape the -rigid and strict discipline of the few great leaders, so that the -masses may be persuaded that they can easily find the path for -themselves—following the guiding star of the State!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>"A new phenomenon! The State as the guiding star of culture! In the -meantime one thing consoles me: this German spirit, which people are -combating so much, and for which they have substituted a gaudily -attired <i>locum tenens</i>, this spirit is brave: it will fight and redeem -itself into a purer age; noble, as it is now, and victorious, as it -one day will be, it will always preserve in its mind a certain pitiful -toleration of the State, if the latter, hard-pressed in the hour of -extremity, secures such a pseudo-culture as its associate. For what, -after all, do we know about the difficult task of governing men, -<i>i.e.</i> to keep law, order, quietness, and peace among millions of -boundlessly egoistical, unjust, unreasonable, dishonourable, envious, -malignant, and hence very narrow-minded and perverse human beings; and -thus to protect the few things that the State has conquered for itself -against covetous neighbours and jealous robbers? Such a hard-pressed -State holds out its arms to any associate, grasps at any straw; and -when such an associate does introduce himself with flowery eloquence, -when he adjudges the State, as Hegel did, to be an 'absolutely -complete ethical organism,' the be-all and end-all of every one's -education, and goes on to indicate how he himself can best promote the -interests of the State—who will be surprised if, without further -parley, the State falls upon his neck and cries aloud in a barbaric -voice of full conviction: 'Yes! Thou art education! Thou art indeed -culture!'"</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> -<h4><a name="FOURTH_LECTURE" id="FOURTH_LECTURE">FOURTH LECTURE.</a></h4> - - -<h5>(<i>Delivered on the 5th of March 1872.</i>)</h5> - - -<p><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LADIES AND GENTLEMEN</span>,—Now that you have followed my tale up to this -point, and that we have made ourselves joint masters of the solitary, -remote, and at times abusive duologue of the philosopher and his -companion, I sincerely hope that you, like strong swimmers, are ready -to proceed on the second half of our journey, especially as I can -promise you that a few other marionettes will appear in the -puppet-play of my adventure, and that if up to the present you have -only been able to do little more than endure what I have been telling -you, the waves of my story will now bear you more quickly and easily -towards the end. In other words we have now come to a turning, and it -would be advisable for us to take a short glance backwards to see what -we think we have gained from such a varied conversation.</p> - -<p>"Remain in your present position," the philosopher seemed to say to -his companion, "for you may cherish hopes. It is more and more clearly -evident that we have no educational institutions at all; but that we -ought to have them. Our public schools—established, it would seem, -for this high object—have either become the nurseries <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>of a -reprehensible culture which repels the true culture with profound -hatred—<i>i.e.</i> a true, aristocratic culture, founded upon a few -carefully chosen minds; or they foster a micrological and sterile -learning which, while it is far removed from culture, has at least -this merit, that it avoids that reprehensible culture as well as the -true culture." The philosopher had particularly drawn his companion's -attention to the strange corruption which must have entered into the -heart of culture when the State thought itself capable of tyrannising -over it and of attaining its ends through it; and further when the -State, in conjunction with this culture, struggled against other -hostile forces as well as against <i>the</i> spirit which the philosopher -ventured to call the "true German spirit." This spirit, linked to the -Greeks by the noblest ties, and shown by its past history to have been -steadfast and courageous, pure and lofty in its aims, its faculties -qualifying it for the high task of freeing modern man from the curse -of modernity—this spirit is condemned to live apart, banished from -its inheritance. But when its slow, painful tones of woe resound -through the desert of the present, then the overladen and gaily-decked -caravan of culture is pulled up short, horror-stricken. We must not -only astonish, but terrify—such was the philosopher's opinion: not to -fly shamefully away, but to take the offensive, was his advice; but he -especially counselled his companion not to ponder too anxiously over -the individual from whom, through a higher instinct, this aversion for -the present barbarism proceeded, "Let it perish: <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>the Pythian god had -no difficulty in finding a new tripod, a second Pythia, so long, at -least, as the mystic cold vapours rose from the earth."</p> - -<p>The philosopher once more began to speak: "Be careful to remember, my -friend," said he, "there are two things you must not confuse. A man -must learn a great deal that he may live and take part in the struggle -for existence; but everything that he as an individual learns and does -with this end in view has nothing whatever to do with culture. This -latter only takes its beginning in a sphere that lies far above the -world of necessity, indigence, and struggle for existence. The -question now is to what extent a man values his ego in comparison with -other egos, how much of his strength he uses up in the endeavour to -earn his living. Many a one, by stoically confining his needs within a -narrow compass, will shortly and easily reach the sphere in which he -may forget, and, as it were, shake off his ego, so that he can enjoy -perpetual youth in a solar system of timeless and impersonal things. -Another widens the scope and needs of his ego as much as possible, and -builds the mausoleum of this ego in vast proportions, as if he were -prepared to fight and conquer that terrible adversary, Time. In this -instinct also we may see a longing for immortality: wealth and power, -wisdom, presence of mind, eloquence, a flourishing outward aspect, a -renowned name—all these are merely turned into the means by which an -insatiable, personal will to live craves for new life, with which, -again, it hankers after an eternity that is at last seen to be -illusory.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>"But even in this highest form of the ego, in the enhanced needs of -such a distended and, as it were, collective individual, true culture -is never touched upon; and if, for example, art is sought after, only -its disseminating and stimulating actions come into prominence, <i>i.e.</i> -those which least give rise to pure and noble art, and most of all to -low and degraded forms of it. For in all his efforts, however great -and exceptional they seem to the onlooker, he never succeeds in -freeing himself from his own hankering and restless personality: that -illuminated, ethereal sphere where one may contemplate without the -obstruction of one's own personality continually recedes from him—and -thus, let him learn, travel, and collect as he may, he must always -live an exiled life at a remote distance from a higher life and from -true culture. For true culture would scorn to contaminate itself with -the needy and covetous individual; it well knows how to give the slip -to the man who would fain employ it as a means of attaining to -egoistic ends; and if any one cherishes the belief that he has firmly -secured it as a means of livelihood, and that he can procure the -necessities of life by its sedulous cultivation, then it suddenly -steals away with noiseless steps and an air of derisive mockery.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> - -<p>"I will thus ask you, my friend, not to confound this culture, this -sensitive, fastidious, ethereal goddess, with that useful -maid-of-all-work which is also called 'culture,' but which is only -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>the intellectual servant and counsellor of one's practical -necessities, wants, and means of livelihood Every kind of training, -however, which holds out the prospect of bread-winning as its end and -aim, is not a training for culture as we understand the word; but -merely a collection of precepts and directions to show how, in the -struggle for existence, a man may preserve and protect his own person. -It may be freely admitted that for the great majority of men such a -course of instruction is of the highest importance; and the more -arduous the struggle is the more intensely must the young man strain -every nerve to utilise his strength to the best advantage.</p> - -<p>"But—let no one think for a moment that the schools which urge him on -to this struggle and prepare him for it are in any way seriously to be -considered as establishments of culture. They are institutions which -teach one how to take part in the battle of life; whether they promise -to turn out civil servants, or merchants, or officers, or wholesale -dealers, or farmers, or physicians, or men with a technical training. -The regulations and standards prevailing at such institutions differ -from those in a true educational institution; and what in the latter -is permitted, and even freely held out as often as possible, ought to -be considered as a criminal offence in the former.</p> - -<p>"Let me give you an example. If you wish to guide a young man on the -path of true culture, beware of interrupting his naive, confident, -and, as it were, immediate and personal relationship with nature. The -woods, the rocks, the winds, the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>vulture, the flowers, the butterfly, -the meads, the mountain slopes, must all speak to him in their own -language; in them he must, as it were, come to know himself again in -countless reflections and images, in a variegated round of changing -visions; and in this way he will unconsciously and gradually feel the -metaphysical unity of all things in the great image of nature, and at -the same time tranquillise his soul in the contemplation of her -eternal endurance and necessity. But how many young men should be -permitted to grow up in such close and almost personal proximity to -nature! The others must learn another truth betimes: how to subdue -nature to themselves. Here is an end of this naive metaphysics; and -the physiology of plants and animals, geology, inorganic chemistry, -force their devotees to view nature from an altogether different -standpoint. What is lost by this new point of view is not only a -poetical phantasmagoria, but the instinctive, true, and unique point -of view, instead of which we have shrewd and clever calculations, and, -so to speak, overreachings of nature. Thus to the truly cultured man -is vouchsafed the inestimable benefit of being able to remain -faithful, without a break, to the contemplative instincts of his -childhood, and so to attain to a calmness, unity, consistency, and -harmony which can never be even thought of by a man who is compelled -to fight in the struggle for existence.</p> - -<p>"You must not think, however, that I wish to withhold all praise from -our primary and secondary schools: I honour the seminaries where boys -learn <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>arithmetic and master modern languages, and study geography and -the marvellous discoveries made in natural science. I am quite -prepared to say further that those youths who pass through the better -class of secondary schools are well entitled to make the claims put -forward by the fully-fledged public school boy; and the time is -certainly not far distant when such pupils will be everywhere freely -admitted to the universities and positions under the government, which -has hitherto been the case only with scholars from the public -schools—of our present public schools, be it noted!<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> I cannot, -however, refrain from adding the melancholy reflection: if it be true -that secondary and public schools are, on the whole, working so -heartily in common towards the same ends, and differ from each other -only in such a slight degree, that they may take equal rank before the -tribunal of the State, then we completely lack another kind of -educational institutions: those for the development of culture! To say -the least, the secondary schools cannot be reproached with this; for -they have up to the present propitiously and honourably followed up -tendencies of a lower order, but one nevertheless highly necessary. In -the public schools, however, there is very much less honesty and very -much less ability too; for in them we find an instinctive feeling of -shame, the unconscious perception of the fact that the whole -institution has been ignominiously degraded, and that the sonorous -words of wise and apathetic teachers are contradictory <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>to the dreary, -barbaric, and sterile reality. So there are no true cultural -institutions! And in those very places where a pretence to culture is -still kept up, we find the people more hopeless, atrophied, and -discontented than in the secondary schools, where the so-called -'realistic' subjects are taught! Besides this, only think how immature -and uninformed one must be in the company of such teachers when one -actually misunderstands the rigorously defined philosophical -expressions 'real' and 'realism' to such a degree as to think them the -contraries of mind and matter, and to interpret 'realism' as 'the road -to knowledge, formation, and mastery of reality.'</p> - -<p>"I for my own part know of only two exact contraries: <i>institutions -for teaching culture and institutions for teaching how to succeed in -life</i>. All our present institutions belong to the second class; but I -am speaking only of the first."</p> - -<p>About two hours went by while the philosophically-minded couple -chatted about such startling questions. Night slowly fell in the -meantime; and when in the twilight the philosopher's voice had sounded -like natural music through the woods, it now rang out in the profound -darkness of the night when he was speaking with excitement or even -passionately; his tones hissing and thundering far down the valley, -and reverberating among the trees and rocks. Suddenly he was silent: -he had just repeated, almost pathetically, the words, "we have no true -educational institutions; we have no true educational institutions!" -when something fell down just in front of him—it might have been a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>fir-cone—and his dog barked and ran towards it. Thus interrupted, the -philosopher raised his head, and suddenly became aware of the -darkness, the cool air, and the lonely situation of himself and his -companion. "Well! What are we about!" he ejaculated, "it's dark. You -know whom we were expecting here; but he hasn't come. We have waited -in vain; let us go."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I must now, ladies and gentlemen, convey to you the impressions -experienced by my friend and myself as we eagerly listened to this -conversation, which we heard distinctly in our hiding-place. I have -already told you that at that place and at that hour we had intended -to hold a festival in commemoration of something: and this something -had to do with nothing else than matters concerning educational -training, of which we, in our own youthful opinions, had garnered a -plentiful harvest during our past life. We were thus disposed to -remember with gratitude the institution which we had at one time -thought out for ourselves at that very spot in order, as I have -already mentioned, that we might reciprocally encourage and watch over -one another's educational impulses. But a sudden and unexpected light -was thrown on all that past life as we silently gave ourselves up to -the vehement words of the philosopher. As when a traveller, walking -heedlessly across unknown ground, suddenly puts his foot over the edge -of a cliff, so it now seemed to us that we had hastened to meet the -great danger rather than run away from it. Here at this spot, so -memorable <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>to us, we heard the warning: "Back! Not another step! Know -you not whither your footsteps tend, whither this deceitful path is -luring you?"</p> - -<p>It seemed to us that we now knew, and our feeling of overflowing -thankfulness impelled us so irresistibly towards our earnest -counsellor and trusty Eckart, that both of us sprang up at the same -moment and rushed towards the philosopher to embrace him. He was just -about to move off, and had already turned sideways when we rushed up -to him. The dog turned sharply round and barked, thinking doubtless, -like the philosopher's companion, of an attempt at robbery rather than -an enraptured embrace. It was plain that he had forgotten us. In a -word, he ran away. Our embrace was a miserable failure when we did -overtake him; for my friend gave a loud yell as the dog bit him, and -the philosopher himself sprang away from me with such force that we -both fell. What with the dog and the men there was a scramble that -lasted a few minutes, until my friend began to call out loudly, -parodying the philosopher's own words: "In the name of all culture and -pseudo-culture, what does the silly dog want with us? Hence, you -confounded dog; you uninitiated, never to be initiated; hasten away -from us, silent and ashamed!" After this outburst matters were cleared -up to some extent, at any rate so far as they could be cleared up in -the darkness of the wood. "Oh, it's you!" ejaculated the philosopher, -"our duellists! How you startled us! What on earth drives you to jump -out upon us like this at such a time of the night?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>"Joy, thankfulness, and reverence," said we, shaking the old man by -the hand, whilst the dog barked as if he understood, "we can't let you -go without telling you this. And if you are to understand everything -you must not go away just yet; we want to ask you about so many things -that lie heavily on our hearts. Stay yet awhile; we know every foot of -the way and can accompany you afterwards. The gentleman you expect may -yet turn up. Look over yonder on the Rhine: what is that we see so -clearly floating on the surface of the water as if surrounded by the -light of many torches? It is there that we may look for your friend, I -would even venture to say that it is he who is coming towards you with -all those lights."</p> - -<p>And so much did we assail the surprised old man with our entreaties, -promises, and fantastic delusions, that we persuaded the philosopher -to walk to and fro with us on the little plateau, "by learned lumber -undisturbed," as my friend added.</p> - -<p>"Shame on you!" said the philosopher, "if you really want to quote -something, why choose Faust? However, I will give in to you, quotation -or no quotation, if only our young companions will keep still and not -run away as suddenly as they made their appearance, for they are like -will-o'-the-wisps; we are amazed when they are there and again when -they are not there."</p> - -<p>My friend immediately recited—</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Respect, I hope, will teach us how we may</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Our lighter disposition keep at bay.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Our course is only zig-zag as a rule.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> -The philosopher was surprised, and stood still. "You astonish me, you -will-o'-the-wisps," he said; "this is no quagmire we are on now. Of -what use is this ground to you? What does the proximity of a -philosopher mean to you? For around him the air is sharp and clear, -the ground dry and hard. You must find out a more fantastic region for -your zig-zagging inclinations."</p> - -<p>"I think," interrupted the philosopher's companion at this point, "the -gentlemen have already told us that they promised to meet some one -here at this hour; but it seems to me that they listened to our comedy -of education like a chorus, and truly 'idealistic spectators'—for -they did not disturb us; we thought we were alone with each other."</p> - -<p>"Yes, that is true," said the philosopher, "that praise must not be -withheld from them, but it seems to me that they deserve still higher -praise——"</p> - -<p>Here I seized the philosopher's hand and said: "That man must be as -obtuse as a reptile, with his stomach on the ground and his head -buried in mud, who can listen to such a discourse as yours without -becoming earnest and thoughtful, or even excited and indignant. -Self-accusation and annoyance might perhaps cause a few to get angry; -but our impression was quite different: the only thing I do not know -is how exactly to describe it. This hour was so well-timed for us, and -our minds were so well prepared, that we sat there like empty vessels, -and now it seems as if we were filled to overflowing with this new -wisdom: for I no longer know how to help myself, and if some one asked -me what I am thinking of doing to-morrow, or <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>what I have made up my -mind to do with myself from now on, I should not know what to answer. -For it is easy to see that we have up to the present been living and -educating ourselves in the wrong way—but what can we do to cross over -the chasm between to-day and to-morrow?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," acknowledged my friend, "I have a similar feeling, and I ask -the same question: but besides that I feel as if I were frightened -away from German culture by entertaining such high and ideal views of -its task; yea, as if I were unworthy to co-operate with it in carrying -out its aims. I only see a resplendent file of the highest natures -moving towards this goal; I can imagine over what abysses and through -what temptations this procession travels. Who would dare to be so bold -as to join in it?"</p> - -<p>At this point the philosopher's companion again turned to him and -said: "Don't be angry with me when I tell you that I too have a -somewhat similar feeling, which I have not mentioned to you before. -When talking to you I often felt drawn out of myself, as it were, and -inspired with your ardour and hopes till I almost forgot myself. Then -a calmer moment arrives; a piercing wind of reality brings me back to -earth—and then I see the wide gulf between us, over which you -yourself, as in a dream, draw me back again. Then what you call -'culture' merely totters meaninglessly around me or lies heavily on my -breast: it is like a shirt of mail that weighs me down, or a sword -that I cannot wield."</p> - -<p>Our minds, as we thus argued with the philosopher, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>were unanimous, -and, mutually encouraging and stimulating one another, we slowly -walked with him backwards and forwards along the unencumbered space -which had earlier in the day served us as a shooting range. And then, -in the still night, under the peaceful light of hundreds of stars, we -all broke out into a tirade which ran somewhat as follows:—</p> - -<p>"You have told us so much about the genius," we began, "about his -lonely and wearisome journey through the world, as if nature never -exhibited anything but the most diametrical contraries: in one place -the stupid, dull masses, acting by instinct, and then, on a far higher -and more remote plane, the great contemplating few, destined for the -production of immortal works. But now you call these the apexes of the -intellectual pyramid: it would, however, seem that between the broad, -heavily burdened foundation up to the highest of the free and -unencumbered peaks there must be countless intermediate degrees, and -that here we must apply the saying <i>natura non facit saltus</i>. Where -then are we to look for the beginning of what you call culture; where -is the line of demarcation to be drawn between the spheres which are -ruled from below upwards and those which are ruled from above -downwards? And if it be only in connection with these exalted beings -that true culture may be spoken of, how are institutions to be founded -for the uncertain existence of such natures, how can we devise -educational establishments which shall be of benefit only to these -select few? It rather seems to us that such persons <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>know how to find -their own way, and that their full strength is shown in their being -able to walk without the educational crutches necessary for other -people, and thus undisturbed to make their way through the storm and -stress of this rough world just like a phantom."</p> - -<p>We kept on arguing in this fashion, speaking without any great ability -and not putting our thoughts in any special form: but the -philosopher's companion went even further, and said to him: "Just -think of all these great geniuses of whom we are wont to be so proud, -looking upon them as tried and true leaders and guides of this real -German spirit, whose names we commemorate by statues and festivals, -and whose works we hold up with feelings of pride for the admiration -of foreign lands—how did they obtain the education you demand for -them, to what degree do they show that they have been nourished and -matured by basking in the sun of national education? And yet they are -seen to be possible, they have nevertheless become men whom we must -honour: yea, their works themselves justify the form of the -development of these noble spirits; they justify even a certain want -of education for which we must make allowance owing to their country -and the age in which they lived. How could Lessing and Winckelmann -benefit by the German culture of their time? Even less than, or at all -events just as little as Beethoven, Schiller, Goethe, or every one of -our great poets and artists. It may perhaps be a law of nature that -only the later generations are destined to know by what divine gifts -an earlier generation was favoured."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> -At this point the old philosopher could not control his anger, and -shouted to his companion: "Oh, you innocent lamb of knowledge! You -gentle sucking doves, all of you! And would you give the name of -arguments to those distorted, clumsy, narrow-minded, ungainly, -crippled things? Yes, I have just now been listening to the fruits of -some of this present-day culture, and my ears are still ringing with -the sound of historical 'self-understood' things, of over-wise and -pitiless historical reasonings! Mark this, thou unprofaned Nature: -thou hast grown old, and for thousands of years this starry sky has -spanned the space above thee—but thou hast never yet heard such -conceited and, at bottom, mischievous chatter as the talk of the -present day! So you are proud of your poets and artists, my good -Teutons? You point to them and brag about them to foreign countries, -do you? And because it has given you no trouble to have them amongst -you, you have formed the pleasant theory that you need not concern -yourselves further with them? Isn't that so, my inexperienced -children: they come of their own free will, the stork brings them to -you! Who would dare to mention a midwife! You deserve an earnest -teaching, eh? You should be proud of the fact that all the noble and -brilliant men we have mentioned were prematurely suffocated, worn out, -and crushed through you, through your barbarism? You think without -shame of Lessing, who, on account of your stupidity, perished in -battle against your ludicrous gods and idols, the evils of your -theatres, your learned men, and your theologians, without once daring -to lift <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> -himself to the height of that immortal flight for which he -was brought into the world. And what are your impressions when you -think of Winckelmann, who, that he might rid his eyes of your -grotesque fatuousness, went to beg help from the Jesuits, and whose -disgraceful religious conversion recoils upon you and will always -remain an ineffaceable blemish upon you? You can even name Schiller -without blushing! Just look at his picture! The fiery, sparkling eyes, -looking at you with disdain, those flushed, death-like cheeks: can you -learn nothing from all that? In him you had a beautiful and divine -plaything, and through it was destroyed. And if it had been possible -for you to take Goethe's friendship away from this melancholy, hasty -life, hunted to premature death, then you would have crushed him even -sooner than you did. You have not rendered assistance to a single one -of our great geniuses—and now upon that fact you wish to build up the -theory that none of them shall ever be helped in future? For each of -them, however, up to this very moment, you have always been the -'resistance of the stupid world' that Goethe speaks of in his -"Epilogue to the Bell"; towards each of them you acted the part of -apathetic dullards or jealous narrow-hearts or malignant egotists. In -spite of you they created their immortal works, against you they -directed their attacks, and thanks to you they died so prematurely, -their tasks only half accomplished, blunted and dulled and shattered -in the battle. Who can tell to what these heroic men were destined to -attain if only that true German spirit had gathered them together -within the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>protecting walls of a powerful institution?—that spirit -which, without the help of some such institution, drags out an -isolated, debased, and degraded existence. All those great men were -utterly ruined; and it is only an insane belief in the Hegelian -'reasonableness of all happenings' which would absolve you of any -responsibility in the matter. And not those men alone! Indictments are -pouring forth against you from every intellectual province: whether I -look at the talents of our poets, philosophers, painters, or -sculptors—and not only in the case of gifts of the highest order—I -everywhere see immaturity, overstrained nerves, or prematurely -exhausted energies, abilities wasted and nipped in the bud; I -everywhere feel that 'resistance of the stupid world,' in other words, -<i>your</i> guiltiness. That is what I am talking about when I speak of -lacking educational establishments, and why I think those which at -present claim the name in such a pitiful condition. Whoever is pleased -to call this an 'ideal desire,' and refers to it as 'ideal' as if he -were trying to get rid of it by praising me, deserves the answer that -the present system is a scandal and a disgrace, and that the man who -asks for warmth in the midst of ice and snow must indeed get angry if -he hears this referred to as an 'ideal desire.' The matter we are now -discussing is concerned with clear, urgent, and palpably evident -realities: a man who knows anything of the question feels that there -is a need which must be seen to, just like cold and hunger. But the -man who is not affected at all by this matter most certainly has a -standard by which to measure the extent of his own culture, and thus -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>to know what I call 'culture,' and where the line should be drawn -between that which is ruled from below upwards and that which is ruled -from above downwards."</p> - -<p>The philosopher seemed to be speaking very heatedly. We begged him to -walk round with us again, since he had uttered the latter part of his -discourse standing near the tree-stump which had served us as a -target. For a few minutes not a word more was spoken. Slowly and -thoughtfully we walked to and fro. We did not so much feel ashamed of -having brought forward such foolish arguments as we felt a kind of -restitution of our personality. After the heated and, so far as we -were concerned, very unflattering utterance of the philosopher, we -seemed to feel ourselves nearer to him—that we even stood in a -personal relationship to him. For so wretched is man that he never -feels himself brought into such close contact with a stranger as when -the latter shows some sign of weakness, some defect. That our -philosopher had lost his temper and made use of abusive language -helped to bridge over the gulf created between us by our timid respect -for him: and for the sake of the reader who feels his indignation -rising at this suggestion let it be added that this bridge often leads -from distant hero-worship to personal love and pity. And, after the -feeling that our personality had been restored to us, this pity -gradually became stronger and stronger. Why were we making this old -man walk up and down with us between the rocks and trees at that time -of the night? And, since he had yielded to our entreaties, why could -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>we not have thought of a more modest and unassuming manner of having -ourselves instructed, why should the three of us have contradicted him -in such clumsy terms?</p> - -<p>For now we saw how thoughtless, unprepared, and baseless were all the -objections we had made, and how greatly the echo of <i>the</i> present was -heard in them, the voice of which, in the province of culture, the old -man would fain not have heard. Our objections, however, were not -purely intellectual ones: our reasons for protesting against the -philosopher's statements seemed to lie elsewhere. They arose perhaps -from the instinctive anxiety to know whether, if the philosopher's -views were carried into effect, our own personalities would find a -place in the higher or lower division; and this made it necessary for -us to find some arguments against the mode of thinking which robbed us -of our self-styled claims to culture. People, however, should not -argue with companions who feel the weight of an argument so -personally; or, as the moral in our case would have been: such -companions should not argue, should not contradict at all.</p> - -<p>So we walked on beside the philosopher, ashamed, compassionate, -dissatisfied with ourselves, and more than ever convinced that the old -man was right and that we had done him wrong. How remote now seemed -the youthful dream of our educational institution; how clearly we saw -the danger which we had hitherto escaped merely by good luck, namely, -giving ourselves up body and soul to the educational system which -forced itself upon our notice so enticingly, from the time when we -entered <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>the public schools up to that moment. How then had it come -about that we had not taken our places in the chorus of its admirers? -Perhaps merely because we were real students, and could still draw -back from the rough-and-tumble, the pushing and struggling, the -restless, ever-breaking waves of publicity, to seek refuge in our own -little educational establishment; which, however, time would have soon -swallowed up also.</p> - -<p>Overcome by such reflections, we were about to address the philosopher -again, when he suddenly turned towards us, and said in a softer tone—</p> - -<p>"I cannot be surprised if you young men behave rashly and -thoughtlessly; for it is hardly likely that you have ever seriously -considered what I have just said to you. Don't be in a hurry; carry -this question about with you, but do at any rate consider it day and -night. For you are now at the parting of the ways, and now you know -where each path leads. If you take the one, your age will receive you -with open arms, you will not find it wanting in honours and -decorations: you will form units of an enormous rank and file; and -there will be as many people like-minded standing behind you as in -front of you. And when the leader gives the word it will be re-echoed -from rank to rank. For here your first duty is this: to fight in rank -and file; and your second: to annihilate all those who refuse to form -part of the rank and file. On the other path you will have but few -fellow-travellers: it is more arduous, winding and precipitous; and -those who take the first path will mock you, for your progress is more -wearisome, and they will try <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>to lure you over into their own ranks. -When the two paths happen to cross, however, you will be roughly -handled and thrust aside, or else shunned and isolated.</p> - -<p>"Now, take these two parties, so different from each other in every -respect, and tell me what meaning an educational establishment would -have for them. That enormous horde, crowding onwards on the first path -towards its goal, would take the term to mean an institution by which -each of its members would become duly qualified to take his place in -the rank and file, and would be purged of everything which might tend -to make him strive after higher and more remote aims. I don't deny, of -course, that they can find pompous words with which to describe their -aims: for example, they speak of the 'universal development of free -personality upon a firm social, national, and human basis,' or they -announce as their goal: 'The founding of the peaceful sovereignty of -the people upon reason, education, and justice.'</p> - -<p>"An educational establishment for the other and smaller company, -however, would be something vastly different. They would employ it to -prevent themselves from being separated from one another and -overwhelmed by the first huge crowd, to prevent their few select -spirits from losing sight of their splendid and noble task through -premature weariness, or from being turned aside from the true path, -corrupted, or subverted. These select spirits must complete their -work: that is the <i>raison d'être</i> of their common institution—a work, -indeed, which, as it were, must be free from subjective traces, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>must further rise above the transient events of future times as the -pure reflection of the eternal and immutable essence of things. And -all those who occupy places in that institution must co-operate in the -endeavour to engender men of genius by this purification from -subjectiveness and the creation of the works of genius. Not a few, -even of those whose talents may be of the second or third order, are -suited to such co-operation, and only when serving in such an -educational establishment as this do they feel that they are truly -carrying out their life's task. But now it is just these talents I -speak of which are drawn away from the true path, and their instincts -estranged, by the continual seductions of that modern 'culture.'</p> - -<p>"The egotistic emotions, weaknesses, and vanities of these few select -minds are continually assailed by the temptations unceasingly murmured -into their ears by the spirit of the age: 'Come with me! There you are -servants, retainers, tools, eclipsed by higher natures; your own -peculiar characteristics never have free play; you are tied down, -chained down, like slaves; yea, like automata: here, with me, you will -enjoy the freedom of your own personalities, as masters should, your -talents will cast their lustre on yourselves alone, with their aid you -may come to the very front rank; an innumerable train of followers -will accompany you, and the applause of public opinion will yield you -more pleasure than a nobly-bestowed commendation from the height of -genius.' Even the very best of men now yield to these temptations: and -it cannot be said that the deciding <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>factor here is the degree of -talent, or whether a man is accessible to these voices or not; but -rather the degree and the height of a certain moral sublimity, the -instinct towards heroism, towards sacrifice—and finally a positive, -habitual need of culture, prepared by a proper kind of education, -which education, as I have previously said, is first and foremost -obedience and submission to the discipline of genius. Of this -discipline and submission, however, the present institutions called by -courtesy 'educational establishments' know nothing whatever, although -I have no doubt that the public school was originally intended to be -an institution for sowing the seeds of true culture, or at least as a -preparation for it. I have no doubt, either, that they took the first -bold steps in the wonderful and stirring times of the Reformation, and -that afterwards, in the era which gave birth to Schiller and Goethe, -there was again a growing demand for culture, like the first -protuberance of that wing spoken of by Plato in the <i>Phaedrus</i>, which, -at every contact with the beautiful, bears the soul aloft into the -upper regions, the habitations of the gods."</p> - -<p>"Ah," began the philosopher's companion, "when you quote the divine -Plato and the world of ideas, I do not think you are angry with me, -however much my previous utterance may have merited your disapproval -and wrath. As soon as you speak of it, I feel that Platonic wing -rising within me; and it is only at intervals, when I act as the -charioteer of my soul, that I have any difficulty with the resisting -and unwilling horse that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>Plato has also described to us, the -'crooked, lumbering animal, put together anyhow, with a short, thick -neck; flat-faced, and of a dark colour, with grey eyes and blood-red -complexion; the mate of insolence and pride, shag-eared and deaf, -hardly yielding to whip or spur.'<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> Just think how long I have lived -at a distance from you, and how all those temptations you speak of -have endeavoured to lure me away, not perhaps without some success, -even though I myself may not have observed it. I now see more clearly -than ever the necessity for an institution which will enable us to -live and mix freely with the few men of true culture, so that we may -have them as our leaders and guiding stars. How greatly I feel the -danger of travelling alone! And when it occurred to me that I could -save myself by flight from all contact with the spirit of the time, I -found that this flight itself was a mere delusion. Continuously, with -every breath we take, some amount of that atmosphere circulates -through every vein and artery, and no solitude is lonesome or distant -enough for us to be out of reach of its fogs and clouds. Whether in -the guise of hope, doubt, profit, or virtue, the shades of that -culture hover about us; and we have been deceived by that jugglery -even here in the presence of a true hermit of culture. How steadfastly -and faithfully must the few followers of that culture—which might -almost be called sectarian—be ever on the alert! How they must -strengthen and uphold one another! How adversely would <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>any errors be -criticised here, and how sympathetically excused! And thus, teacher, I -ask you to pardon me, after you have laboured so earnestly to set me -in the right path!"</p> - -<p>"You use a language which I do not care for, my friend," said the -philosopher, "and one which reminds me of a diocesan conference. With -that I have nothing to do. But your Platonic horse pleases me, and on -its account you shall be forgiven. I am willing to exchange my own -animal for yours. But it is getting chilly, and I don't feel inclined -to walk about any more just now. The friend I was waiting for is -indeed foolish enough to come up here even at midnight if he promised -to do so. But I have waited in vain for the signal agreed upon; and I -cannot guess what has delayed him. For as a rule he is punctual, as we -old men are wont, to be, something that you young men nowadays look -upon as old-fashioned. But he has left me in the lurch for once: how -annoying it is! Come away with me! It's time to go!"</p> - -<p>At this moment something happened.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> It will be apparent from these words that Nietzsche is still under -the influence of Schopenhauer.—TR.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> This prophecy has come true.—TR.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> <i>Phaedrus</i>; Jowett's translation.</p></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></p> -<h4><a name="FIFTH_LECTURE" id="FIFTH_LECTURE">FIFTH LECTURE.</a></h4> - -<h5>(<i>Delivered on the 23rd of March 1872.</i>)</h5> - - -<p><span style="font-size: 0.8em;">LADIES AND GENTLEMEN</span>,—If you have lent a sympathetic ear to what I -have told you about the heated argument of our philosopher in the -stillness of that memorable night, you must have felt as disappointed -as we did when he announced his peevish intention. You will remember -that he had suddenly told us he wished to go; for, having been left in -the lurch by his friend in the first place, and, in the second, having -been bored rather than animated by the remarks addressed to him by his -companion and ourselves when walking backwards and forwards on the -hillside, he now apparently wanted to put an end to what appeared to -him to be a useless discussion. It must have seemed to him that his -day had been lost, and he would have liked to blot it out of his -memory, together with the recollection of ever having made our -acquaintance. And we were thus rather unwillingly preparing to depart -when something else suddenly brought him to a standstill, and the foot -he had just raised sank hesitatingly to the ground again.</p> - -<p>A coloured flame, making a crackling noise for a few seconds, -attracted our attention from the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>direction of the Rhine; and -immediately following upon this we heard a slow, harmonious call, -quite in tune, although plainly the cry of numerous youthful voices. -"That's his signal," exclaimed the philosopher, "so my friend is -really coming, and I haven't waited for nothing, after all. It will be -a midnight meeting indeed—but how am I to let him know that I am -still here? Come! Your pistols; let us see your talent once again! Did -you hear the severe rhythm of that melody saluting us? Mark it well, -and answer it in the same rhythm by a series of shots."</p> - -<p>This was a task well suited to our tastes and abilities; so we loaded -up as quickly as we could and pointed our weapons at the brilliant -stars in the heavens, whilst the echo of that piercing cry died away -in the distance. The reports of the first, second, and third shots -sounded sharply in the stillness; and then the philosopher cried -"False time!" as our rhythm was suddenly interrupted: for, like a -lightning flash, a shooting star tore its way across the clouds after -the third report, and almost involuntarily our fourth and fifth shots -were sent after it in the direction it had taken.</p> - -<p>"False time!" said the philosopher again, "who told you to shoot -stars! They can fall well enough without you! People should know what -they want before they begin to handle weapons."</p> - -<p>And then we once more heard that loud melody from the waters of the -Rhine, intoned by numerous and strong voices. "They understand us," -said the philosopher, laughing, "and who indeed could <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>resist when -such a dazzling phantom comes within range?" "Hush!" interrupted his -friend, "what sort of a company can it be that returns the signal to -us in such a way? I should say they were between twenty and forty -strong, manly voices in that crowd—and where would such a number come -from to greet us? They don't appear to have left the opposite bank of -the Rhine yet; but at any rate we must have a look at them from our -own side of the river. Come along, quickly!"</p> - -<p>We were then standing near the top of the hill, you may remember, and -our view of the river was interrupted by a dark, thick wood. On the -other hand, as I have told you, from the quiet little spot which we -had left we could have a better view than from the little plateau on -the hillside; and the Rhine, with the island of Nonnenwörth in the -middle, was just visible to the beholder who peered over the -tree-tops. We therefore set off hastily towards this little spot, -taking care, however, not to go too quickly for the philosopher's -comfort. The night was pitch dark, and we seemed to find our way by -instinct rather than by clearly distinguishing the path, as we walked -down with the philosopher in the middle.</p> - -<p>We had scarcely reached our side of the river when a broad and fiery, -yet dull and uncertain light shot up, which plainly came from the -opposite side of the Rhine. "Those are torches," I cried, "there is -nothing surer than that my comrades from Bonn are over yonder, and -that your friend must be with them. It is they who sang that peculiar -song, and they have doubtless <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>accompanied your friend here. See! -Listen! They are putting off in little boats. The whole torchlight -procession will have arrived here in less than half an hour."</p> - -<p>The philosopher jumped back. "What do you say?" he ejaculated, "your -comrades from Bonn—students—can my friend have come here with -<i>students</i>?"</p> - -<p>This question, uttered almost wrathfully, provoked us. "What's your -objection to students?" we demanded; but there was no answer. It was -only after a pause that the philosopher slowly began to speak, not -addressing us directly, as it were, but rather some one in the -distance: "So, my friend, even at midnight, even on the top of a -lonely mountain, we shall not be alone; and you yourself are bringing -a pack of mischief-making students along with you, although you well -know that I am only too glad to get out of the way of <i>hoc genus -omne</i>. I don't quite understand you, my friend: it must mean something -when we arrange to meet after a long separation at such an -out-of-the-way place and at such an unusual hour. Why should we want a -crowd of witnesses—and such witnesses! What calls us together to-day -is least of all a sentimental, soft-hearted necessity; for both of us -learnt early in life to live alone in dignified isolation. It was not -for our own sakes, not to show our tender feelings towards each other, -or to perform an unrehearsed act of friendship, that we decided to -meet here; but that here, where I once came suddenly upon you as you -sat in majestic solitude, we might earnestly deliberate <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>with each -other like knights of a new order. Let them listen to us who can -understand us; but why should you bring with you a throng of people -who don't understand us! I don't know what you mean by such a thing, -my friend!"</p> - -<p>We did not think it proper to interrupt the dissatisfied old grumbler; -and as he came to a melancholy close we did not dare to tell him how -greatly this distrustful repudiation of students vexed us.</p> - -<p>At last the philosopher's companion turned to him and said: "I am -reminded of the fact that even you at one time, before I made your -acquaintance, occupied posts in several universities, and that reports -concerning your intercourse with the students and your methods of -instruction at the time are still in circulation. From the tone of -resignation in which you have just referred to students many would be -inclined to think that you had some peculiar experiences which were -not at all to your liking; but personally I rather believe that you -saw and experienced in such places just what every one else saw and -experienced in them, but that you judged what you saw and felt more -justly and severely than any one else. For, during the time I have -known you, I have learnt that the most noteworthy, instructive, and -decisive experiences and events in one's life are those which are of -daily occurrence; that the greatest riddle, displayed in full view of -all, is seen by the fewest to be the greatest riddle, and that these -problems are spread about in every direction, under the very feet of -the passers-by, for the few <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>real philosophers to lift up carefully, -thenceforth to shine as diamonds of wisdom. Perhaps, in the short time -now left us before the arrival of your friend, you will be good enough -to tell us something of your experiences of university life, so as to -close the circle of observations, to which we were involuntarily -urged, respecting our educational institutions. We may also be allowed -to remind you that you, at an earlier stage of your remarks, gave me -the promise that you would do so. Starting with the public school, you -claimed for it an extraordinary importance: all other institutions -must be judged by its standard, according as its aim has been -proposed; and, if its aim happens to be wrong, all the others have to -suffer. Such an importance cannot now be adopted by the universities -as a standard; for, by their present system of grouping, they would be -nothing more than institutions where public school students might go -through finishing courses. You promised me that you would explain this -in greater detail later on: perhaps our student friends can bear -witness to that, if they chanced to overhear that part of our -conversation."</p> - -<p>"We can testify to that," I put in. The philosopher then turned to us -and said: "Well, if you really did listen attentively, perhaps you can -now tell me what you understand by the expression 'the present aim of -our public schools.' Besides, you are still near enough to this sphere -to judge my opinions by the standard of your own impressions and -experiences."</p> - -<p>My friend instantly answered, quickly and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>smartly, as was his habit, -in the following words: "Until now we had always thought that the sole -object of the public school was to prepare students for the -universities. This preparation, however, should tend to make us -independent enough for the extraordinarily free position of a -university student;<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> for it seems to me that a student, to a greater -extent than any other individual, has more to decide and settle for -himself. He must guide himself on a wide, utterly unknown path for -many years, so the public school must do its best to render him -independent."</p> - -<p>I continued the argument where my friend left off. "It even seems to -me," I said, "that everything for which you have justly blamed the -public school is only a necessary means employed to imbue the youthful -student with some kind of independence, or at all events with the -belief that there is such a thing. The teaching of German composition -must be at the service of this independence: the individual must enjoy -his opinions and carry out his designs early, so that he may be able -to travel alone and without crutches. In this way he will soon be -encouraged to produce original work, and still sooner to take up -criticism and analysis. If Latin and Greek studies prove insufficient -to make a student an enthusiastic admirer <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>of antiquity, the methods -with which such studies are pursued are at all events sufficient to -awaken the scientific sense, the desire for a more strict causality of -knowledge, the passion for finding out and inventing. Only think how -many young men may be lured away for ever to the attractions of -science by a new reading of some sort which they have snatched up with -youthful hands at the public school! The public school boy must learn -and collect a great deal of varied information: hence an impulse will -gradually be created, accompanied with which he will continue to learn -and collect independently at the university. We believe, in short, -that the aim of the public school is to prepare and accustom the -student always to live and learn independently afterwards, just as -beforehand he must live and learn dependently at the public school."</p> - -<p>The philosopher laughed, not altogether good-naturedly, and said: "You -have just given me a fine example of that independence. And it is this -very independence that shocks me so much, and makes any place in the -neighbourhood of present-day students so disagreeable to me. Yes, my -good friends, you are perfect, you are mature; nature has cast you and -broken up the moulds, and your teachers must surely gloat over you. -What liberty, certitude, and independence of judgment; what novelty -and freshness of insight! You sit in judgment—and the cultures of all -ages run away. The scientific sense is kindled, and rises out of you -like a flame—let people be careful, lest you set them alight! If I go -further into <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>the question and look at your professors, I again find -the same independence in a greater and even more charming degree: -never was there a time so full of the most sublime independent folk, -never was slavery more detested, the slavery of education and culture -included.</p> - -<p>"Permit me, however, to measure this independence of yours by the -standard of this culture, and to consider your university as an -educational institution and nothing else. If a foreigner desires to -know something of the methods of our universities, he asks first of -all with emphasis: 'How is the student connected with the university?' -We answer: 'By the ear, as a hearer.' The foreigner is astonished. -'Only by the ear?' he repeats. 'Only by the ear,' we again reply. The -student hears. When he speaks, when he sees, when he is in the company -of his companions when he takes up some branch of art: in short, when -he <i>lives</i> he is independent, <i>i.e.</i> not dependent upon the -educational institution. The student very often writes down something -while he hears; and it is only at these rare moments that he hangs to -the umbilical cord of his alma mater. He himself may choose what he is -to listen to; he is not bound to believe what is said; he may close -his ears if he does not care to hear. This is the 'acroamatic' method -of teaching.</p> - -<p>"The teacher, however, speaks to these listening students. Whatever -else he may think and do is cut off from the student's perception by -an immense gap. The professor often reads when he is speaking. As a -rule he wishes to have as <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>many hearers as possible; he is not content -to have a few, and he is never satisfied with one only. One speaking -mouth, with many ears, and half as many writing hands—there you have -to all appearances, the external academical apparatus; the university -engine of culture set in motion. Moreover, the proprietor of this one -mouth is severed from and independent of the owners of the many ears; -and this double independence is enthusiastically designated as -'academical freedom.' And again, that this freedom may be broadened -still more, the one may speak what he likes and the other may hear -what he likes; except that, behind both of them, at a modest distance, -stands the State, with all the intentness of a supervisor, to remind -the professors and students from time to time that <i>it</i> is the aim, -the goal, the be-all and end-all, of this curious speaking and hearing -procedure.</p> - -<p>"We, who must be permitted to regard this phenomenon merely as an -educational institution, will then inform the inquiring foreigner that -what is called 'culture' in our universities merely proceeds from the -mouth to the ear, and that every kind of training for culture is, as I -said before, merely 'acroamatic.' Since, however, not only the -hearing, but also the choice of what to hear is left to the -independent decision of the liberal-minded and unprejudiced student, -and since, again, he can withhold all belief and authority from what -he hears, all training for culture, in the true sense of the term, -reverts to himself; and the independence it was thought desirable to -aim at in the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>public school now presents itself with the highest -possible pride as 'academical self-training for culture,' and struts -about in its brilliant plumage.</p> - -<p>"Happy times, when youths are clever and cultured enough to teach -themselves how to walk! Unsurpassable public schools, which succeed in -implanting independence in the place of the dependence, discipline, -subordination, and obedience implanted by former generations that -thought it their duty to drive away all the bumptiousness of -independence! Do you clearly see, my good friends, why I, from the -standpoint of culture, regard the present type of university as a mere -appendage to the public school? The culture instilled by the public -school passes through the gates of the university as something ready -and entire, and with its own particular claims: <i>it</i> demands, it gives -laws, it sits in judgment. Do not, then, let yourselves be deceived in -regard to the cultured student; for he, in so far as he thinks he has -absorbed the blessings of education, is merely the public school boy -as moulded by the hands of his teacher: one who, since his academical -isolation, and after he has left the public school, has therefore been -deprived of all further guidance to culture, that from now on he may -begin to live by himself and be free.</p> - -<p>"Free! Examine this freedom, ye observers of human nature! Erected -upon the sandy, crumbling foundation of our present public school -culture, its building slants to one side, trembling before the -whirlwind's blast. Look at the free student, the herald of -self-culture: guess what his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>instincts are; explain him from his -needs! How does his culture appear to you when you measure it by three -graduated scales: first, by his need for philosophy; second, by his -instinct for art; and third, by Greek and Roman antiquity as the -incarnate categorical imperative of all culture?</p> - -<p>"Man is so much encompassed about by the most serious and difficult -problems that, when they are brought to his attention in the right -way, he is impelled betimes towards a lasting kind of philosophical -wonder, from which alone, as a fruitful soil, a deep and noble culture -can grow forth. His own experiences lead him most frequently to the -consideration of these problems; and it is especially in the -tempestuous period of youth that every personal event shines with a -double gleam, both as the exemplification of a triviality and, at the -same time, of an eternally surprising problem, deserving of -explanation. At this age, which, as it were, sees his experiences -encircled with metaphysical rainbows, man is, in the highest degree, -in need of a guiding hand, because he has suddenly and almost -instinctively convinced himself of the ambiguity of existence, and has -lost the firm support of the beliefs he has hitherto held.</p> - -<p>"This natural state of great need must of course be looked upon as the -worst enemy of that beloved independence for which the cultured youth -of the present day should be trained. All these sons of the present, -who have raised the banner of the 'self-understood,' are therefore -straining every nerve to crush down these feelings of youth, to -cripple them, to mislead them, or to stop their <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>growth altogether; -and the favourite means employed is to paralyse that natural -philosophic impulse by the so-called "historical culture." A still -recent system,<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> which has won for itself a world-wide scandalous -reputation, has discovered the formula for this self-destruction of -philosophy; and now, wherever the historical view of things is found, -we can see such a naive recklessness in bringing the irrational to -'rationality' and 'reason' and making black look like white, that one -is even inclined to parody Hegel's phrase and ask: 'Is all this -irrationality real?' Ah, it is only the irrational that now seems to -be 'real,' <i>i.e.</i> really doing something; and to bring this kind of -reality forward for the elucidation of history is reckoned as true -'historical culture.' It is into this that the philosophical impulse -of our time has pupated itself; and the peculiar philosophers of our -universities seem to have conspired to fortify and confirm the young -academicians in it.</p> - -<p>"It has thus come to pass that, in place of a profound interpretation -of the eternally recurring problems, a historical—yea, even -philological—balancing and questioning has entered into the -educational arena: what this or that philosopher has or has not -thought; whether this or that essay or dialogue is to be ascribed to -him or not; or even whether this particular reading of a classical -text is to be preferred to that. It is to neutral preoccupations with -philosophy like these that our students in philosophical seminaries -are stimulated; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>whence I have long accustomed myself to regard such -science as a mere ramification of philology, and to value its -representatives in proportion as they are good or bad philologists. So -it has come about that <i>philosophy itself</i> is banished from the -universities: wherewith our first question as to the value of our -universities from the standpoint of culture is answered.</p> - -<p>"In what relationship these universities stand to <i>art</i> cannot be -acknowledged without shame: in none at all. Of artistic thinking, -learning, striving, and comparison, we do not find in them a single -trace; and no one would seriously think that the voice of the -universities would ever be raised to help the advancement of the -higher national schemes of art. Whether an individual teacher feels -himself to be personally qualified for art, or whether a professorial -chair has been established for the training of æstheticising literary -historians, does not enter into the question at all: the fact remains -that the university is not in a position to control the young -academician by severe artistic discipline, and that it must let happen -what happens, willy-nilly—and this is the cutting answer to the -immodest pretensions of the universities to represent themselves as -the highest educational institutions.</p> - -<p>"We find our academical 'independents' growing up without philosophy -and without art; and how can they then have any need to 'go in for' -the Greeks and Romans?—for we need now no longer pretend, like our -forefathers, to have any great regard for Greece and Rome, which, -besides, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>sit enthroned in almost inaccessible loneliness and majestic -alienation. The universities of the present time consequently give no -heed to almost extinct educational predilections like these, and found -their philological chairs for the training of new and exclusive -generations of philologists, who on their part give similar -philological preparation in the public schools—a vicious circle which -is useful neither to philologists nor to public schools, but which -above all accuses the university for the third time of not being what -it so pompously proclaims itself to be—a training ground for culture. -Take away the Greeks, together with philosophy and art, and what -ladder have you still remaining by which to ascend to culture? For, if -you attempt to clamber up the ladder without these helps, you must -permit me to inform you that all your learning will lie like a heavy -burden on your shoulders rather than furnishing you with wings and -bearing you aloft.</p> - -<p>"If you honest thinkers have honourably remained in these three stages -of intelligence, and have perceived that, in comparison with the -Greeks, the modern student is unsuited to and unprepared for -philosophy, that he has no truly artistic instincts, and is merely a -barbarian believing himself to be free, you will not on this account -turn away from him in disgust, although you will, of course, avoid -coming into too close proximity with him. For, as he now is, <i>he is -not to blame</i>: as you have perceived him he is the dumb but terrible -accuser of those who are to blame.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>"You should understand the secret language spoken by this guilty -innocent, and then you, too, would learn to understand the inward -state of that independence which is paraded outwardly with so much -ostentation. Not one of these noble, well-qualified youths has -remained a stranger to that restless, tiring, perplexing, and -debilitating need of culture: during his university term, when he is -apparently the only free man in a crowd of servants and officials, he -atones for this huge illusion of freedom by ever-growing inner doubts -and convictions. He feels that he can neither lead nor help himself; -and then he plunges hopelessly into the workaday world and endeavours -to ward off such feelings by study. The most trivial bustle fastens -itself upon him; he sinks under his heavy burden. Then he suddenly -pulls himself together; he still feels some of that power within him -which would have enabled him to keep his head above water. Pride and -noble resolutions assert themselves and grow in him. He is afraid of -sinking at this early stage into the limits of a narrow profession; -and now he grasps at pillars and railings alongside the stream that he -may not be swept away by the current. In vain! for these supports give -way, and he finds he has clutched at broken reeds. In low and -despondent spirits he sees his plans vanish away in smoke. His -condition is undignified, even dreadful: he keeps between the two -extremes of work at high pressure and a state of melancholy -enervation. Then he becomes tired, lazy, afraid of work, fearful of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>everything great; and hating himself. He looks into his own breast, -analyses his faculties, and finds he is only peering into hollow and -chaotic vacuity. And then he once more falls from the heights of his -eagerly-desired self-knowledge into an ironical scepticism. He divests -his struggles of their real importance, and feels himself ready to -undertake any class of useful work, however degrading. He now seeks -consolation in hasty and incessant action so as to hide himself from -himself. And thus his helplessness and the want of a leader towards -culture drive him from one form of life into another: but doubt, -elevation, worry, hope, despair—everything flings him hither and -thither as a proof that all the stars above him by which he could have -guided his ship have set.</p> - -<p>"There you have the picture of this glorious independence of yours, of -that academical freedom, reflected in the highest minds—those which -are truly in need of culture, compared with whom that other crowd of -indifferent natures does not count at all, natures that delight in -their freedom in a purely barbaric sense. For these latter show by -their base smugness and their narrow professional limitations that -this is the right element for them: against which there is nothing to -be said. Their comfort, however, does not counter-balance the -suffering of one single young man who has an inclination for culture -and feels the need of a guiding hand, and who at last, in a moment of -discontent, throws down the reins and begins to despise himself. This -is the guiltless <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>innocent; for who has saddled him with the -unbearable burden of standing alone? Who has urged him on to -independence at an age when one of the most natural and peremptory -needs of youth is, so to speak, a self-surrendering to great leaders -and an enthusiastic following in the footsteps of the masters?</p> - -<p>"It is repulsive to consider the effects to which the violent -suppression of such noble natures may lead. He who surveys the -greatest supporters and friends of that pseudo-culture of the present -time, which I so greatly detest, will only too frequently find among -them such degenerate and shipwrecked men of culture, driven by inward -despair to violent enmity against culture, when, in a moment of -desperation, there was no one at hand to show them how to attain it. -It is not the worst and most insignificant people whom we afterwards -find acting as journalists and writers for the press in the -metamorphosis of despair: the spirit of some well-known men of letters -might even be described, and justly, as degenerate studentdom. How -else, for example, can we reconcile that once well-known 'young -Germany' with its present degenerate successors? Here we discover a -need of culture which, so to speak, has grown mutinous, and which -finally breaks out into the passionate cry: I am culture! There, -before the gates of the public schools and universities, we can see -the culture which has been driven like a fugitive away from these -institutions. True, this culture is without the erudition of those -establishments, but assumes nevertheless the mien of a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>sovereign; so -that, for example, Gutzkow the novelist might be pointed to as the -best example of a modern public school boy turned æsthete. Such a -degenerate man of culture is a serious matter, and it is a horrifying -spectacle for us to see that all our scholarly and journalistic -publicity bears the stigma of this degeneracy upon it. How else can we -do justice to our learned men, who pay untiring attention to, and even -co-operate in the journalistic corruption of the people, how else than -by the acknowledgment that their learning must fill a want of their -own similar to that filled by novel-writing in the case of others: -<i>i.e.</i> a flight from one's self, an ascetic extirpation of their -cultural impulses, a desperate attempt to annihilate their own -individuality. From our degenerate literary art, as also from that -itch for scribbling of our learned men which has now reached such -alarming proportions, wells forth the same sigh: Oh that we could -forget ourselves! The attempt fails: memory, not yet suffocated by the -mountains of printed paper under which it is buried, keeps on -repeating from time to time: 'A degenerate man of culture! Born for -culture and brought up to non-culture! Helpless barbarian, slave of -the day, chained to the present moment, and thirsting for -something—ever thirsting!'</p> - -<p>"Oh, the miserable guilty innocents! For they lack something, a need -that every one of them must have felt: a real educational institution, -which could give them goals, masters, methods, companions; and from -the midst of which the invigorating and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>uplifting breath of the true -German spirit would inspire them. Thus they perish in the wilderness; -thus they degenerate into enemies of that spirit which is at bottom -closely allied to their own; thus they pile fault upon fault higher -than any former generation ever did, soiling the clean, desecrating -the holy, canonising the false and spurious. It is by them that you -can judge the educational strength of our universities, asking -yourselves, in all seriousness, the question: What cause did you -promote through them? The German power of invention, the noble German -desire for knowledge, the qualifying of the German for diligence and -self-sacrifice—splendid and beautiful things, which other nations -envy you; yea, the finest and most magnificent things in the world, if -only that true German spirit overspread them like a dark thundercloud, -pregnant with the blessing of forthcoming rain. But you are afraid of -this spirit, and it has therefore come to pass that a cloud of another -sort has thrown a heavy and oppressive atmosphere around your -universities, in which your noble-minded scholars breathe wearily and -with difficulty.</p> - -<p>"A tragic, earnest, and instructive attempt was made in the present -century to destroy the cloud I have last referred to, and also to turn -the people's looks in the direction of the high welkin of the German -spirit. In all the annals of our universities we cannot find any trace -of a second attempt, and he who would impressively demonstrate what is -now necessary for us will never find a better <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>example. I refer to the -old, primitive <i>Burschenschaft</i>.<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></p> - -<p>"When the war of liberation was over, the young student brought back -home the unlooked-for and worthiest trophy of battle—the freedom of -his fatherland. Crowned with this laurel he thought of something still -nobler. On returning to the university, and finding that he was -breathing heavily, he became conscious of that oppressive and -contaminated air which overhung the culture of the university. He -suddenly saw, with horror-struck, wide-open eyes, the non-German -barbarism, hiding itself in the guise of all kinds of scholasticism; -he suddenly discovered that his own leaderless comrades were abandoned -to a repulsive kind of youthful intoxication. And he was exasperated. -He rose with the same aspect of proud indignation as Schiller may have -had when reciting the <i>Robbers</i> to his companions: and if he had -prefaced his drama with the picture of a lion, and the motto, 'in -tyrannos,' his follower himself was that very lion preparing to -spring; and every 'tyrant' began to tremble. Yes, if these indignant -youths were looked at superficially and timorously, they would seem to -be little else than Schiller's robbers: their talk sounded so wild to -the anxious listener that Rome and Sparta seemed mere nunneries -compared with these new spirits. The consternation raised by these -young men was indeed far more general than had ever been <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>caused by -those other 'robbers' in court circles, of which a German prince, -according to Goethe, is said to have expressed the opinion: 'If he had -been God, and had foreseen the appearance of the <i>Robbers</i>, he would -not have created the world.'</p> - -<p>"Whence came the incomprehensible intensity of this alarm? For those -young men were the bravest, purest, and most talented of the band both -in dress and habits: they were distinguished by a magnanimous -recklessness and a noble simplicity. A divine command bound them -together to seek harder and more pious superiority: what could be -feared from them? To what extent this fear was merely deceptive or -simulated or really true is something that will probably never be -exactly known; but a strong instinct spoke out of this fear and out of -its disgraceful and senseless persecution. This instinct hated the -Burschenschaft with an intense hatred for two reasons: first of all on -account of its organisation, as being the first attempt to construct a -true educational institution, and, secondly, on account of the spirit -of this institution, that earnest, manly, stern, and daring German -spirit; that spirit of the miner's son, Luther, which has come down to -us unbroken from the time of the Reformation.</p> - -<p>"Think of the <i>fate</i> of the Burschenschaft when I ask you, Did the -German university then understand that spirit, as even the German -princes in their hatred appear to have understood it? Did the alma -mater boldly and resolutely throw her protecting arms round her noble -sons and say: 'You <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>must kill me first, before you touch my children?' -I hear your answer—by it you may judge whether the German university -is an educational institution or not.</p> - -<p>"The student knew at that time at what depth a true educational -institution must take root, namely, in an inward renovation and -inspiration of the purest moral faculties. And this must always be -repeated to the student's credit. He may have learnt on the field of -battle what he could learn least of all in the sphere of 'academical -freedom': that great leaders are necessary, and that all culture begins -with obedience. And in the midst of victory, with his thoughts turned to -his liberated fatherland, he made the vow that he would remain German. -German! Now he learnt to understand his Tacitus; now he grasped the -signification of Kant's categorical imperative; now he was enraptured by -Weber's "Lyre and Sword" songs.<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> The gates of philosophy, of art, -yea, even of antiquity, opened unto him; and in one of the most -memorable <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>of bloody acts, the murder of Kotzebue, he revenged—with -penetrating insight and enthusiastic short-sightedness—his one and only -Schiller, prematurely consumed by the opposition of the stupid world: -Schiller, who could have been his leader, master, and organiser, and -whose loss he now bewailed with such heartfelt resentment.</p> - -<p>"For that was the doom of those promising students: they did not find -the leaders they wanted. They gradually became uncertain, -discontented, and at variance among themselves; unlucky indiscretions -showed only too soon that the one indispensability of powerful minds -was lacking in the midst of them: and, while that mysterious murder -gave evidence of astonishing strength, it gave no less evidence of the -grave danger arising from the want of a leader. They were -leaderless—therefore they perished.</p> - -<p>"For I repeat it, my friends! All culture begins with the very -opposite of that which is now so highly esteemed as 'academical -freedom': with obedience, with subordination, with discipline, with -subjection. And as leaders must have followers so also must the -followers have a leader—here a certain reciprocal predisposition -prevails in the hierarchy of spirits: yea, a kind of pre-established -harmony. This eternal hierarchy, towards which all things naturally -tend, is always threatened by that pseudo-culture which now sits on -the throne of the present. It endeavours either to bring the leaders -down to the level of its own servitude or else to cast them out -altogether. It seduces the followers when they are seeking their -predestined leader, and overcomes <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>them by the fumes of its narcotics. -When, however, in spite of all this, leader and followers have at last -met, wounded and sore, there is an impassioned feeling of rapture, -like the echo of an ever-sounding lyre, a feeling which I can let you -divine only by means of a simile.</p> - -<p>"Have you ever, at a musical rehearsal, looked at the strange, -shrivelled-up, good-natured species of men who usually form the German -orchestra? What changes and fluctuations we see in that capricious -goddess 'form'! What noses and ears, what clumsy, <i>danse macabre</i> -movements! Just imagine for a moment that you were deaf, and had never -dreamed of the existence of sound or music, and that you were looking -upon the orchestra as a company of actors, and trying to enjoy their -performance as a drama and nothing more. Undisturbed by the idealising -effect of the sound, you could never see enough of the stern, -medieval, wood-cutting movement of this comical spectacle, this -harmonious parody on the <i>homo sapiens</i>.</p> - -<p>"Now, on the other hand, assume that your musical sense has returned, -and that your ears are opened. Look at the honest conductor at the -head of the orchestra performing his duties in a dull, spiritless -fashion: you no longer think of the comical aspect of the whole scene, -you listen—but it seems to you that the spirit of tediousness spreads -out from the honest conductor over all his companions. Now you see -only torpidity and flabbiness, you hear only the trivial, the -rhythmically inaccurate, and the melodiously trite. You see the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>orchestra only as an indifferent, ill-humoured, and even wearisome -crowd of players.</p> - -<p>"But set a genius—a real genius—in the midst of this crowd; and you -instantly perceive something almost incredible. It is as if this -genius, in his lightning transmigration, had entered into these -mechanical, lifeless bodies, and as if only one demoniacal eye gleamed -forth out of them all. Now look and listen—you can never listen -enough! When you again observe the orchestra, now loftily storming, -now fervently wailing, when you notice the quick tightening of every -muscle and the rhythmical necessity of every gesture, then you too -will feel what a pre-established harmony there is between leader and -followers, and how in the hierarchy of spirits everything impels us -towards the establishment of a like organisation. You can divine from -my simile what I would understand by a true educational institution, -and why I am very far from recognising one in the present type of -university."</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>[From a few MS. notes written down by Nietzsche in the - spring and autumn of 1872, and still preserved in the - Nietzsche Archives at Weimar, it is evident that he at one - time intended to add a sixth and seventh lecture to the - five just given. These notes, although included in the - latest edition of Nietzsche's works, are utterly lacking - in interest and continuity, being merely headings and - sub-headings of sections in the proposed lectures. They do - not, indeed, occupy more than two printed pages, and were - deemed too fragmentary for translation in this edition.]</p> -</blockquote> - -<hr class="r5" /> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> The reader may be reminded that a German university student is -subject to very few restrictions, and that much greater liberty is -allowed him than is permitted to English students. Nietzsche did not -approve of this extraordinary freedom, which, in his opinion, led to -intellectual lawlessness.—TR.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Hegel's.—TR.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> A German students' association, of liberal principles, founded -for patriotic purposes at Jena in 1813.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Weber set one or two of Körner's "Lyre and Sword" songs to music. -The reader will remember that these lectures were delivered when -Nietzsche was only in his twenty-eighth year. Like Goethe, he -afterwards freed himself from all patriotic trammels and prejudices, -and aimed at a general European culture. Luther, Schiller, Kant, -Körner, and Weber did not continue to be the objects of his veneration -for long, indeed, they were afterwards violently attacked by him, and -the superficial student who speaks of inconsistency may be reminded of -Nietzsche's phrase in stanza 12 of the epilogue to <i>Beyond Good and -Evil</i>: "Nur wer sich wandelt, bleibt mit mir verwandt"; <i>i.e.</i> only -the changing ones have anything in common with me.—TR.</p></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> -<h3><a name="HOMER_AND_CLASSICAL_PHILOLOGY" id="HOMER_AND_CLASSICAL_PHILOLOGY">HOMER AND CLASSICAL PHILOLOGY.</a></h3> - - -<h5>(<i>Inaugural Address delivered at Bâle University, 28th of May 1869.</i>)</h5> - - -<p>At the present day no clear and consistent opinion seems to be held -regarding Classical Philology. We are conscious of this in the circles -of the learned just as much as among the followers of that science -itself. The cause of this lies in its many-sided character, in the lack -of an abstract unity, and in the inorganic aggregation of heterogeneous -scientific activities which are connected with one another only by the -name "Philology." It must be freely admitted that philology is to some -extent borrowed from several other sciences, and is mixed together like -a magic potion from the most outlandish liquors, ores, and bones. It may -even be added that it likewise conceals within itself an artistic -element, one which, on æsthetic and ethical grounds, may be called -imperatival—an element that acts in opposition to its purely scientific -behaviour. Philology is composed of history just as much as of natural -science or æsthetics: history, in so far as it endeavours to comprehend -the manifestations of the individualities of peoples in ever new -images, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> -and the prevailing law in the disappearance of phenomena; -natural science, in so far as it strives to fathom the deepest instinct -of man, that of speech; æsthetics, finally, because from various -antiquities at our disposal it endeavours to pick out the so-called -"classical" antiquity, with the view and pretension of excavating the -ideal world buried under it, and to hold up to the present the mirror of -the classical and everlasting standards. That these wholly different -scientific and æsthetico-ethical impulses have been associated under a -common name, a kind of sham monarchy, is shown especially by the fact -that philology at every period from its origin onwards was at the same -time pedagogical. From the standpoint of the pedagogue, a choice was -offered of those elements which were of the greatest educational value; -and thus that science, or at least that scientific aim, which we call -philology, gradually developed out of the practical calling originated -by the exigencies of that science itself.</p> - -<p>These philological aims were pursued sometimes with greater ardour and -sometimes with less, in accordance with the degree of culture and the -development of the taste of a particular period; but, on the other hand, -the followers of this science are in the habit of regarding the aims -which correspond to their several abilities as <i>the</i> aims of philology; -whence it comes about that the estimation of philology in public opinion -depends upon the weight of the personalities of the philologists!</p> - -<p>At the present time—that is to say, in a period which has seen men -distinguished in almost every <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>department of philology—a general -uncertainty of judgment has increased more and more, and likewise a -general relaxation of interest and participation in philological -problems. Such an undecided and imperfect state of public opinion is -damaging to a science in that its hidden and open enemies can work with -much better prospects of success. And philology has a great many such -enemies. Where do we not meet with them, these mockers, always ready to -aim a blow at the philological "moles," the animals that practise -dust-eating <i>ex professo</i>, and that grub up and eat for the eleventh -time what they have already eaten ten times before. For opponents of -this sort, however, philology is merely a useless, harmless, and -inoffensive pastime, an object of laughter and not of hate. But, on the -other hand, there is a boundless and infuriated hatred of philology -wherever an ideal, as such, is feared, where the modern man falls down -to worship himself, and where Hellenism is looked upon as a superseded -and hence very insignificant point of view. Against these enemies, we -philologists must always count upon the assistance of artists and men of -artistic minds; for they alone can judge how the sword of barbarism -sweeps over the head of every one who loses sight of the unutterable -simplicity and noble dignity of the Hellene; and how no progress in -commerce or technical industries, however brilliant, no school -regulations, no political education of the masses, however widespread -and complete, can protect us from the curse of ridiculous and barbaric -offences against good taste, or from annihilation by the Gorgon head of -the classicist.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> -Whilst philology as a whole is looked on with jealous eyes by these two -classes of opponents, there are numerous and varied hostilities in other -directions of philology; philologists themselves are quarrelling with -one another; internal dissensions are caused by useless disputes about -precedence and mutual jealousies, but especially by the -differences—even enmities—comprised in the name of philology, which -are not, however, by any means naturally harmonised instincts.</p> - -<p>Science has this in common with art, that the most ordinary, everyday -thing appears to it as something entirely new and attractive, as if -metamorphosed by witchcraft and now seen for the first time. Life is -worth living, says art, the beautiful temptress; life is worth knowing, -says science. With this contrast the so heartrending and dogmatic -tradition follows in a <i>theory</i>, and consequently in the practice of -classical philology derived from this theory. We may consider antiquity -from a scientific point of view; we may try to look at what has happened -with the eye of a historian, or to arrange and compare the linguistic -forms of ancient masterpieces, to bring them at all events under a -morphological law; but we always lose the wonderful creative force, the -real fragrance, of the atmosphere of antiquity; we forget that -passionate emotion which instinctively drove our meditation and -enjoyment back to the Greeks. From this point onwards we must take -notice of a clearly determined and very surprising antagonism which -philology has great cause to regret. From the circles upon whose help we -must place the most <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>implicit reliance—the artistic friends of -antiquity, the warm supporters of Hellenic beauty and noble -simplicity—we hear harsh voices crying out that it is precisely the -philologists themselves who are the real opponents and destroyers of the -ideals of antiquity. Schiller upbraided the philologists with having -scattered Homer's laurel crown to the winds. It was none other than -Goethe who, in early life a supporter of Wolf's theories regarding -Homer, recanted in the verses—</p> -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">With subtle wit you took away</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Our former adoration:</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">The Iliad, you may us say,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Was mere conglomeration.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Think it not crime in any way:</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Youth's fervent adoration</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Leads us to know the verity,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">And feel the poet's unity.</span><br /> -</p> -<p>The reason of this want of piety and reverence must lie deeper; and many -are in doubt as to whether philologists are lacking in artistic capacity -and impressions, so that they are unable to do justice to the ideal, or -whether the spirit of negation has become a destructive and iconoclastic -principle of theirs. When, however, even the friends of antiquity, -possessed of such doubts and hesitations, point to our present classical -philology as something questionable, what influence may we not ascribe -to the outbursts of the "realists" and the claptrap of the heroes of the -passing hour? To answer the latter on this occasion, especially when we -consider the nature of the present assembly, would be highly -injudicious; at any rate, if I do <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>not wish to meet with the fate of -that sophist who, when in Sparta, publicly undertook to praise and -defend Herakles, when he was interrupted with the query: "But who then -has found fault with him?" I cannot help thinking, however, that some of -these scruples are still sounding in the ears of not a few in this -gathering; for they may still be frequently heard from the lips of noble -and artistically gifted men—as even an upright philologist must feel -them, and feel them most painfully, at moments when his spirits are -downcast. For the single individual there is no deliverance from the -dissensions referred to; but what we contend and inscribe on our banner -is the fact that classical philology, as a whole, has nothing whatsoever -to do with the quarrels and bickerings of its individual disciples. The -entire scientific and artistic movement of this peculiar centaur is -bent, though with cyclopic slowness, upon bridging over the gulf between -the ideal antiquity—which is perhaps only the magnificent blossoming of -the Teutonic longing for the south—and the real antiquity; and thus -classical philology pursues only the final end of its own being, which -is the fusing together of primarily hostile impulses that have only -forcibly been brought together. Let us talk as we will about the -unattainability of this goal, and even designate the goal itself as an -illogical pretension—the aspiration for it is very real; and I should -like to try to make it clear by an example that the most significant -steps of classical philology never lead away from the ideal antiquity, -but to it; and that, just when people are speaking unwarrantably of the -overthrow of sacred shrines, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>new and more worthy altars are being -erected. Let us then examine the so-called <i>Homeric question</i> from this -standpoint, a question the most important problem of which Schiller -called a scholastic barbarism.</p> - -<p>The important problem referred to is <i>the question of the personality of -Homer</i>.</p> - -<p>We now meet everywhere with the firm opinion that the question of -Homer's personality is no longer timely, and that it is quite a -different thing from the real "Homeric question." It may be added that, -for a given period—such as our present philological period, for -example—the centre of discussion may be removed from the problem of the -poet's personality; for even now a painstaking experiment is being made -to reconstruct the Homeric poems without the aid of personality, -treating them as the work of several different persons. But if the -centre of a scientific question is rightly seen to be where the swelling -tide of new views has risen up, i.e. where individual scientific -investigation comes into contact with the whole life of science and -culture—if any one, in other words, indicates a historico-cultural -valuation as the central point of the question, he must also, in the -province of Homeric criticism, take his stand upon the question of -personality as being the really fruitful oasis in the desert of the -whole argument. For in Homer the modern world, I will not say has -learnt, but has examined, a great historical point of view; and, even -without now putting forward my own opinion as to whether this -examination has been or can be <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>happily carried out, it was at all -events the first example of the application of that productive point of -view. By it scholars learnt to recognise condensed beliefs in the -apparently firm, immobile figures of the life of ancient peoples; by it -they for the first time perceived the wonderful capability of the soul -of a people to represent the conditions of its morals and beliefs in the -form of a personality. When historical criticism has confidently seized -upon this method of evaporating apparently concrete personalities, it is -permissible to point to the first experiment as an important event in -the history of sciences, without considering whether it was successful -in this instance or not.</p> - -<p>It is a common occurrence for a series of striking signs and wonderful -emotions to precede an epoch-making discovery. Even the experiment I -have just referred to has its own attractive history; but it goes back -to a surprisingly ancient era. Friedrich August Wolf has exactly -indicated the spot where Greek antiquity dropped the question. The -zenith of the historico-literary studies of the Greeks, and hence also -of their point of greatest importance—the Homeric question—was reached -in the age of the Alexandrian grammarians. Up to this time the Homeric -question had run through the long chain of a uniform process of -development, of which the standpoint of those grammarians seemed to be -the last link, the last, indeed, which was attainable by antiquity. They -conceived the <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i> as the creations of <i>one single</i> -Homer; they declared it to be psychologically possible for two such -different <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>works to have sprung from the brain of <i>one</i> genius, in -contradiction to the Chorizontes, who represented the extreme limit of -the scepticism of a few detached individuals of antiquity rather than -antiquity itself considered as a whole. To explain the different general -impression of the two books on the assumption that <i>one</i> poet composed -them both, scholars sought assistance by referring to the seasons of the -poet's life, and compared the poet of the <i>Odyssey</i> to the setting sun. -The eyes of those critics were tirelessly on the lookout for -discrepancies in the language and thoughts of the two poems; but at this -time also a history of the Homeric poem and its tradition was prepared, -according to which these discrepancies were not due to Homer, but -to those who committed his words to writing and those who sang them. It -was believed that Homer's poem was passed from one generation to another -<i>viva voce</i>, and faults were attributed to the improvising and at times -forgetful bards. At a certain given date, about the time of Pisistratus, -the poems which had been repeated orally were said to have been -collected in manuscript form; but the scribes, it is added, allowed -themselves to take some liberties with the text by transposing some -lines and adding extraneous matter here and there. This entire -hypothesis is the most important in the domain of literary studies that -antiquity has exhibited; and the acknowledgment of the dissemination of -the Homeric poems by word of mouth, as opposed to the habits of a -book-learned age, shows in particular a depth of ancient sagacity worthy -of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>our admiration. From those times until the generation that produced -Friedrich August Wolf we must take a jump over a long historical vacuum; -but in our own age we find the argument left just as it was at the time -when the power of controversy departed from antiquity, and it is a -matter of indifference to us that Wolf accepted as certain tradition -what antiquity itself had set up only as a hypothesis. It may be -remarked as most characteristic of this hypothesis that, in the -strictest sense, the personality of Homer is treated seriously; that a -certain standard of inner harmony is everywhere presupposed in the -manifestations of the personality; and that, with these two excellent -auxiliary hypotheses, whatever is seen to be below this standard and -opposed to this inner harmony is at once swept aside as un-Homeric. But -even this distinguishing characteristic, in place of wishing to -recognise the supernatural existence of a tangible personality, ascends -likewise through all the stages that lead to that zenith, with -ever-increasing energy and clearness. Individuality is ever more -strongly felt and accentuated; the psychological possibility of a -<i>single</i> Homer is ever more forcibly demanded. If we descend backwards -from this zenith, step by step, we find a guide to the understanding of -the Homeric problem in the person of Aristotle. Homer was for him the -flawless and untiring artist who knew his end and the means to attain -it; but there is still a trace of infantile criticism to be found in -Aristotle—i.e., in the naive concession he made to the public opinion -that considered Homer as the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>author of the original of all comic epics, -the <i>Margites</i>. If we go still further backwards from Aristotle, the -inability to create a personality is seen to increase; more and more -poems are attributed to Homer; and every period lets us see its degree -of criticism by how much and what it considers as Homeric. In this -backward examination, we instinctively feel that away beyond Herodotus -there lies a period in which an immense flood of great epics has been -identified with the name of Homer.</p> - -<p>Let us imagine ourselves as living in the time of Pisistratus: the word -"Homer" then comprehended an abundance of dissimilarities. What was -meant by "Homer" at that time? It is evident that that generation found -itself unable to grasp a personality and the limits of its -manifestations. Homer had now become of small consequence. And then we -meet with the weighty question: What lies before this period? Has -Homer's personality, because it cannot be grasped, gradually faded away -into an empty name? Or had all the Homeric poems been gathered together -in a body, the nation naively representing itself by the figure of -Homer? <i>Was the person created out of a conception, or the conception -out of a person?</i> This is the real "Homeric question," the central -problem of the personality.</p> - -<p>The difficulty of answering this question, however, is increased when we -seek a reply in another direction, from the standpoint of the poems -themselves which have come down to us. As it is difficult for us at the -present day, and necessitates <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>a serious effort on our part, to -understand the law of gravitation clearly—that the earth alters its -form of motion when another heavenly body changes its position in space, -although no material connection unites one to the other—it likewise -costs us some trouble to obtain a clear impression of that wonderful -problem which, like a coin long passed from hand to hand, has lost its -original and highly conspicuous stamp. Poetical works, which cause the -hearts of even the greatest geniuses to fail when they endeavour to vie -with them, and in which unsurpassable images are held up for the -admiration of posterity—and yet the poet who wrote them with only a -hollow, shaky name, whenever we do lay hold on him; nowhere the solid -kernel of a powerful personality. "For who would wage war with the gods: -who, even with the one god?" asks Goethe even, who, though a genius, -strove in vain to solve that mysterious problem of the Homeric -inaccessibility.</p> - -<p>The conception of popular poetry seemed to lead like a bridge over this -problem—a deeper and more original power than that of every single -creative individual was said to have become active; the happiest people, -in the happiest period of its existence, in the highest activity of -fantasy and formative power, was said to have created those immeasurable -poems. In this universality there is something almost intoxicating in -the thought of a popular poem: we feel, with artistic pleasure, the -broad, overpowering liberation of a popular gift, and we delight in this -natural phenomenon as we do in an uncontrollable cataract. But as -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>soon -as we examine this thought at close quarters, we involuntarily put a -poetic <i>mass of people</i> in the place of the poetising <i>soul of the -people</i>: a long row of popular poets in whom individuality has no -meaning, and in whom the tumultuous movement of a people's soul, the -intuitive strength of a people's eye, and the unabated profusion of a -people's fantasy, were once powerful: a row of original geniuses, -attached to a time, to a poetic genus, to a subject-matter.</p> - -<p>Such a conception justly made people suspicious. Could it be possible -that that same Nature who so sparingly distributed her rarest and most -precious production—genius—should suddenly take the notion of -lavishing her gifts in one sole direction? And here the thorny question -again made its appearance: Could we not get along with one genius only, -and explain the present existence of that unattainable excellence? And -now eyes were keenly on the lookout for whatever that excellence and -singularity might consist of. Impossible for it to be in the -construction of the complete works, said one party, for this is far from -faultless; but doubtless to be found in single songs: in the single -pieces above all; not in the whole. A second party, on the other hand, -sheltered themselves beneath the authority of Aristotle, who especially -admired Homer's "divine" nature in the choice of his entire subject, and -the manner in which he planned and carried it out. If, however, this -construction was not clearly seen, this fault was due to the way the -poems were handed down to posterity and not to the poet himself -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>—it was -the result of retouchings and interpolations, owing to which the -original setting of the work gradually became obscured. The more the -first school looked for inequalities, contradictions, perplexities, the -more energetically did the other school brush aside what in their -opinion obscured the original plan, in order, if possible, that nothing -might be left remaining but the actual words of the original epic -itself. The second school of thought of course held fast by the -conception of an epoch-making genius as the composer of the great works. -The first school, on the other hand, wavered between the supposition of -one genius plus a number of minor poets, and another hypothesis which -assumed only a number of superior and even mediocre individual bards, -but also postulated a mysterious discharging, a deep, national, artistic -impulse, which shows itself in individual minstrels as an almost -indifferent medium. It is to this latter school that we must attribute -the representation of the Homeric poems as the expression of that -mysterious impulse.</p> - -<p>All these schools of thought start from the assumption that the problem -of the present form of these epics can be solved from the standpoint of -an æsthetic judgment—but we must await the decision as to the -authorised line of demarcation between the man of genius and the -poetical soul of the people. Are there characteristic differences -between the utterances of the <i>man of genius</i> and the <i>poetical soul of -the people</i>?</p> - -<p>This whole contrast, however, is unjust and misleading. There is no -more dangerous <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>assumption in modern æsthetics than that of <i>popular -poetry</i> and <i>individual poetry</i>, or, as it is usually called, <i>artistic -poetry</i>. This is the reaction, or, if you will, the superstition, which -followed upon the most momentous discovery of historico-philological -science, the discovery and appreciation of the <i>soul of the people</i>. For -this discovery prepared the way for a coming scientific view of history, -which was until then, and in many respects is even now, a mere -collection of materials, with the prospect that new materials would -continue to be added, and that the huge, overflowing pile would never be -systematically arranged. The people now understood for the first time -that the long-felt power of greater individualities and wills was larger -than the pitifully small will of an individual man;<a name="FNanchor_1_13" id="FNanchor_1_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_13" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> they now saw that -everything truly great in the kingdom of the will could not have its -deepest root in the inefficacious and ephemeral individual will; and, -finally, they now discovered the powerful instincts of the masses, and -diagnosed those unconscious impulses to be the foundations and supports -of the so-called universal history. But the newly-lighted flame also -cast its shadow: and this shadow was none other than that superstition -already referred to, which popular poetry set up in opposition to -individual poetry, and thus enlarged the comprehension of the people's -soul to that of the people's mind. By the misapplication of a tempting -analogical inference, people had <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>reached the point of applying in the -domain of the intellect and artistic ideas that principle of greater -individuality which is truly applicable only in the domain of the will. -The masses have never experienced more flattering treatment than in thus -having the laurel of genius set upon their empty heads. It was imagined -that new shells were forming round a small kernel, so to speak, and that -those pieces of popular poetry originated like avalanches, in the drift -and flow of tradition. They were, however, ready to consider that kernel -as being of the smallest possible dimensions, so that they might -occasionally get rid of it altogether without losing anything of the -mass of the avalanche. According to this view, the text itself and the -stories built round it are one and the same thing.</p> - -<p>Now, however, such a contrast between popular poetry and individual -poetry does not exist at all; on the contrary, all poetry, and of course -popular poetry also, requires an intermediary individuality. This -much-abused contrast, therefore, is necessary only when the term -<i>individual poem</i> is understood to mean a poem which has not grown out -of the soil of popular feeling, but which has been composed by a -non-popular poet in a non-popular atmosphere—something which has come -to maturity in the study of a learned man, for example.</p> - -<p>With the superstition which presupposes poetising masses is connected -another: that popular poetry is limited to one particular period of a -people's history and afterwards dies out—which indeed follows as a -consequence of the first superstition I have mentioned. According to -this <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>school, in the place of the gradually decaying popular poetry we -have artistic poetry, the work of individual minds, not of masses of -people. But the same powers which were once active are still so; and the -form in which they act has remained exactly the same. The great poet of -a literary period is still a popular poet in no narrower sense than the -popular poet of an illiterate age. The difference between them is not in -the way they originate, but it is their diffusion and propagation, in -short, <i>tradition</i>. This tradition is exposed to eternal danger without -the help of handwriting, and runs the risk of including in the poems the -remains of those individualities through whose oral tradition they were -handed down.</p> - -<p>If we apply all these principles to the Homeric poems, it follows that -we gain nothing with our theory of the poetising soul of the people, and -that we are always referred back to the poetical individual. We are thus -confronted with the task of distinguishing that which can have -originated only in a single poetical mind from that which is, so to -speak, swept up by the tide of oral tradition, and which is a highly -important constituent part of the Homeric poems.</p> - -<p>Since literary history first ceased to be a mere collection of names, -people have attempted to grasp and formulate the individualities of the -poets. A certain mechanism forms part of the method: it must be -explained—i.e., it must be deduced from principles—why this or that -individuality appears in this way and not in that. People now study -biographical details, environment, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>acquaintances, contemporary events, -and believe that by mixing all these ingredients together they will be -able to manufacture the wished-for individuality. But they forget that -the <i>punctum saliens</i>, the indefinable individual characteristics, can -never be obtained from a compound of this nature. The less there is -known about the life and times of the poet, the less applicable is this -mechanism. When, however, we have merely the works and the name of the -writer, it is almost impossible to detect the individuality, at all -events, for those who put their faith in the mechanism in question; and -particularly when the works are perfect, when they are pieces of popular -poetry. For the best way for these mechanicians to grasp individual -characteristics is by perceiving deviations from the genius of the -people; the aberrations and hidden allusions: and the fewer -discrepancies to be found in a poem the fainter will be the traces of -the individual poet who composed it.</p> - -<p>All those deviations, everything dull and below the ordinary standard -which scholars think they perceive in the Homeric poems, were attributed -to tradition, which thus became the scapegoat. What was left of Homer's -own individual work? Nothing but a series of beautiful and prominent -passages chosen in accordance with subjective taste. The sum total of -æsthetic singularity which every individual scholar perceived with his -own artistic gifts, he now called Homer.</p> - -<p>This is the central point of the Homeric errors. The name of Homer, from -the very beginning, has <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>no connection either with the conception of -æsthetic perfection or yet with the <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i>. Homer as -the composer of the <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i> is not a historical -tradition, but an <i>æsthetic judgment</i>.</p> - -<p>The only path which leads back beyond the time of Pisistratus and helps -us to elucidate the meaning of the name Homer, takes its way on the one -hand through the reports which have reached us concerning Homer's -birthplace: from which we see that, although his name is always -associated with heroic epic poems, he is on the other hand no more -referred to as the composer of the <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i> than as the -author of the <i>Thebais</i> or any other cyclical epic. On the other hand, -again, an old tradition tells of the contest between Homer and Hesiod, -which proves that when these two names were mentioned people -instinctively thought of two epic tendencies, the heroic and the -didactic; and that the signification of the name "Homer" was included in -the material category and not in the formal. This imaginary contest with -Hesiod did not even yet show the faintest presentiment of individuality. -From the time of Pisistratus onwards, however, with the surprisingly -rapid development of the Greek feeling for beauty, the differences in -the æsthetic value of those epics continued to be felt more and more: -the <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i> arose from the depths of the flood and -have remained on the surface ever since. With this process of æsthetic -separation, the conception of Homer gradually became narrower: the old -material meaning of the name "Homer" <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>as the father of the heroic epic -poem, was changed into the æsthetic meaning of Homer, the father of -poetry in general, and likewise its original prototype. This -transformation was contemporary with the rationalistic criticism which -made Homer the magician out to be a possible poet, which vindicated the -material and formal traditions of those numerous epics as against the -unity of the poet, and gradually removed that heavy load of cyclical -epics from Homer's shoulders.</p> - -<p>So Homer, the poet of the <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i>, is an æsthetic -judgment. It is, however, by no means affirmed against the poet of these -epics that he was merely the imaginary being of an æsthetic -impossibility, which can be the opinion of only very few philologists -indeed. The majority contend that a single individual was responsible -for the general design of a poem such as the <i>Iliad</i>, and further that -this individual was Homer. The first part of this contention may be -admitted; but, in accordance with what I have said, the latter part must -be denied. And I very much doubt whether the majority of those who adopt -the first part of the contention have taken the following considerations -into account.</p> - -<p>The design of an epic such as the <i>Iliad</i> is not an entire <i>whole</i>, not -an organism; but a number of pieces strung together, a collection of -reflections arranged in accordance with æsthetic rules. It is certainly -the standard of an artist's greatness to note what he can take in with a -single glance and set out in rhythmical form. The infinite profusion of -images and incidents in the Homeric epic must <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>force us to admit that -such a wide range of vision is next to impossible. Where, however, a -poet is unable to observe artistically with a single glance, he usually -piles conception on conception, and endeavours to adjust his characters -according to a comprehensive scheme.</p> - -<p>He will succeed in this all the better the more he is familiar with the -fundamental principles of æsthetics: he will even make some believe -that he made himself master of the entire subject by a single powerful -glance.</p> - -<p>The <i>Iliad</i> is not a garland, but a bunch of flowers. As many pictures -as possible are crowded on one canvas; but the man who placed them there -was indifferent as to whether the grouping of the collected pictures was -invariably suitable and rhythmically beautiful. He well knew that no one -would ever consider the collection as a whole; but would merely look at -the individual parts. But that stringing together of some pieces as the -manifestations of a grasp of art which was not yet highly developed, -still less thoroughly comprehended and generally esteemed, cannot have -been the real Homeric deed, the real Homeric epoch-making event. On the -contrary, this design is a later product, far later than Homer's -celebrity. Those, therefore, who look for the "original and perfect -design" are looking for a mere phantom; for the dangerous path of oral -tradition had reached its end just as the systematic arrangement -appeared on the scene; the disfigurements which were caused on the way -could not have affected the design, for this did not form part of the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>material handed down from generation to generation.</p> - -<p>The relative imperfection of the design must not, however, prevent us -from seeing in the designer a different personality from the real poet. -It is not only probable that everything which was created in those times -with conscious æsthetic insight, was infinitely inferior to the songs -that sprang up naturally in the poet's mind and were written down with -instinctive power: we can even take a step further. If we include the -so-called cyclic poems in this comparison, there remains for the -designer of the <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i> the indisputable merit of -having done something relatively great in this conscious technical -composing: a merit which we might have been prepared to recognise from -the beginning, and which is in my opinion of the very first order in the -domain of instinctive creation. We may even be ready to pronounce this -synthetisation of great importance. All those dull passages and -discrepancies—deemed of such importance, but really only subjective, -which we usually look upon as the petrified remains of the period of -tradition—are not these perhaps merely the almost necessary evils which -must fall to the lot of the poet of genius who undertakes a composition -virtually without a parallel, and, further, one which proves to be of -incalculable difficulty?</p> - -<p>Let it be noted that the insight into the most diverse operations of the -instinctive and the conscious changes the position of the Homeric -problem; and in my opinion throws light upon it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>We believe in a great poet as the author of the <i>Iliad</i> and the -<i>Odyssey—but not that Homer was this poet</i>.</p> - -<p>The decision on this point has already been given. The generation that -invented those numerous Homeric fables, that poetised the myth of the -contest between Homer and Hesiod, and looked upon all the poems of the -epic cycle as Homeric, did not feel an æsthetic but a material -singularity when it pronounced the name "Homer." This period regards -Homer as belonging to the ranks of artists like Orpheus, Eumolpus, -Dædalus, and Olympus, the mythical discoverers of a new branch of art, -to whom, therefore, all the later fruits which grew from the new branch -were thankfully dedicated.</p> - -<p>And that wonderful genius to whom we owe the <i>Iliad</i> and the <i>Odyssey</i> -belongs to this thankful posterity: he, too, sacrificed his name on the -altar of the primeval father of the Homeric epic, Homeros.</p> - -<p>Up to this point, gentlemen, I think I have been able to put before you -the fundamental philosophical and æsthetic characteristics of the -problem of the personality of Homer, keeping all minor details -rigorously at a distance, on the supposition that the primary form of -this widespread and honeycombed mountain known as the Homeric question -can be most clearly observed by looking down at it from a far-off -height. But I have also, I imagine, recalled two facts to those friends -of antiquity who take such delight in accusing us philologists of lack -of piety for great <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>conceptions and an unproductive zeal for -destruction. In the first place, those "great" conceptions—such, for -example, as that of the indivisible and inviolable poetic genius, -Homer—were during the pre-Wolfian period only too great, and hence -inwardly altogether empty and elusive when we now try to grasp them. If -classical philology goes back again to the same conceptions, and once -more tries to pour new wine into old bottles, it is only on the surface -that the conceptions are the same: everything has really become new; -bottle and mind, wine and word. We everywhere find traces of the fact -that philology has lived in company with poets, thinkers, and artists -for the last hundred years: whence it has now come about that the heap -of ashes formerly pointed to as classical philology is now turned into -fruitful and even rich soil.<a name="FNanchor_2_14" id="FNanchor_2_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_14" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>And there is a second fact which I should like to recall to the memory -of those friends of antiquity who turn their dissatisfied backs on -classical philology. You honour the immortal masterpieces of the -Hellenic mind in poetry and sculpture, and think yourselves so much more -fortunate than preceding generations, which had to do without them; but -you must not forget that this whole fairyland once lay buried under -mountains of prejudice, and that the blood and sweat and arduous labour -of innumerable followers of our science were all necessary to lift up -that world <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>from the chasm into which it had sunk. We grant that -philology is not the creator of this world, not the composer of that -immortal music; but is it not a merit, and a great merit, to be a mere -virtuoso, and let the world for the first time hear that music which lay -so long in obscurity, despised and undecipherable? Who was Homer -previously to Wolf's brilliant investigations? A good old man, known at -best as a "natural genius," at all events the child of a barbaric age, -replete with faults against good taste and good morals. Let us hear how -a learned man of the first rank writes about Homer even so late as 1783: -"Where does the good man live? Why did he remain so long incognito? -Apropos, can't you get me a silhouette of him?"</p> - -<p>We demand _thanks_—not in our own name, for we are but atoms—but in -the name of philology itself, which is indeed neither a Muse nor a -Grace, but a messenger of the gods: and just as the Muses descended upon -the dull and tormented Boeotian peasants, so Philology comes into a -world full of gloomy colours and pictures, full of the deepest, most -incurable woes; and speaks to men comfortingly of the beautiful and -godlike figure of a distant, rosy, and happy fairyland.</p> - -<p>It is time to close; yet before I do so a few words of a personal -character must be added, justified, I hope, by the occasion of this -lecture.</p> - -<p>It is but right that a philologist should describe his end and the means -to it in the short formula <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>of a confession of faith; and let this be -done in the saying of Seneca which I thus reverse—</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Philosophia facta est quæ philologia fuit."</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>By this I wish to signify that all philological activities should be -enclosed and surrounded by a philosophical view of things, in which -everything individual and isolated is evaporated as something -detestable, and in which great homogeneous views alone remain. Now, -therefore, that I have enunciated my philological creed, I trust you -will give me cause to hope that I shall no longer be a stranger among -you: give me the assurance that in working with you towards this end I -am worthily fulfilling the confidence with which the highest authorities -of this community have honoured me.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_13" id="Footnote_1_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_13"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Of course Nietzsche saw afterwards that this was not so.—TR.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_14" id="Footnote_2_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_14"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Nietzsche perceived later on that this statement was, -unfortunately, not justified.—TR.</p></div> - - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of On the Future of our Educational -Institutions - Homer and Classic, by Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FUTURE OF OUR EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS *** - -***** This file should be named 51580-h.htm or 51580-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/5/8/51580/ - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org -(Images generously made available by the Hathi Trust. - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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