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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-05 22:17:39 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-05 22:17:39 -0800 |
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diff --git a/old/52124-0.txt b/old/52124-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 49db1a9..0000000 --- a/old/52124-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10002 +0,0 @@ -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 52124 *** - -THE JOYFUL WISDOM - -("LA GAYA SCIENZA") - -BY - -FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE - - -TRANSLATED BY - -THOMAS COMMON - -WITH POETRY RENDERED BY - -PAUL V. COHN - -AND - -MAUDE D. PETRE - - - _I stay to mine own house confined,_ - _Nor graft my wits on alien stock_ - _And mock at every master mind_ - _That never at itself could mock._ - - -The Complete Works of Friedrich Nietzsche - -The First Complete and Authorised English Translation - -Edited by Dr Oscar Levy - -Volume Ten - -T.N. FOULIS - -13 & 15 FREDERICK STREET - -EDINBURGH: AND LONDON - -1910 - - - - -CONTENTS - - EDITORIAL NOTE - PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION - JEST, RUSE, AND REVENGE: A PRELUDE IN RHYME - BOOK FIRST - BOOK SECOND - BOOK THIRD - BOOK FOURTH: SANCTUS JANUARIUS - BOOK FIFTH: WE FEARLESS ONES - APPENDIX: SONGS OF PRINCE FREE-AS-A-BIRD - - - - -EDITORIAL NOTE - - -"The Joyful Wisdom," written in 1882, just before "Zarathustra," -is rightly judged to be one of Nietzsche's best books. Here the -essentially grave and masculine face of the poet-philosopher is seen -to light up and suddenly break into a delightful smile. The warmth -and kindness that beam from his features will astonish those hasty -psychologists who have never divined that behind the destroyer is -the creator, and behind the blasphemer the lover of life. In the -retrospective valuation of his work which appears in "Ecce Homo" the -author himself observes with truth that the fourth book, "Sanctus -Januarius," deserves especial attention: "The whole book is a gift from -the Saint, and the introductory verses express my gratitude for the -most wonderful month of January that I have ever spent." Book fifth "We -Fearless Ones," the Appendix "Songs of Prince Free-as-a-Bird," and the -Preface, were added to the second edition in 1887. - -The translation of Nietzsche's poetry has proved to be a more -embarrassing problem than that of his prose. Not only has there been -a difficulty in finding adequate translators--a difficulty overcome, -it is hoped, by the choice of Miss Petre and Mr Cohn,--but it cannot -be denied that even in the original the poems are of unequal merit. By -the side of such masterpieces as "To the Mistral" are several verses of -comparatively little value. The Editor, however, did not feel justified -in making a selection, as it was intended that the edition should be -complete. The heading, "Jest, Ruse and Revenge," of the "Prelude in -Rhyme" is borrowed from Goethe. - - - - -PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. - - - -1. - - -Perhaps more than one preface would be necessary for this book; and -after all it might still be doubtful whether any one could be brought -nearer to the _experiences_ in it by means of prefaces, without having -himself experienced something similar. It seems to be written in the -language of the thawing-wind: there is wantonness, restlessness, -contradiction and April-weather in it; so that one is as constantly -reminded of the proximity of winter as of the _victory_ over it: -the victory which is coming, which must come, which has perhaps -already come.... Gratitude continually flows forth, as if the most -unexpected thing had happened, the gratitude of a convalescent--for -_convalescence_ was this most unexpected thing. "Joyful Wisdom": that -implies the Saturnalia of a spirit which has patiently withstood a -long, frightful pressure--patiently, strenuously, impassionately, -without submitting, but without hope--and which is now suddenly -o'erpowered with hope, the hope of health, the _intoxication_ of -convalescence. What wonder that much that is unreasonable and foolish -thereby comes to light: much wanton tenderness expended even on -problems which have a prickly hide, and are not therefore fit to be -fondled and allured. The whole book is really nothing but a revel -after long privation and impotence: the frolicking of returning -energy, of newly awakened belief in a to-morrow and after-to-morrow; -of sudden sentience and prescience of a future, of near adventures, -of seas open once more, and aims once more permitted and believed in. -And what was now all behind me! This track of desert, exhaustion, -unbelief, and frigidity in the midst of youth, this advent of grey -hairs at the wrong time, this tyranny of pain, surpassed, however, by -the tyranny of pride which repudiated the _consequences_ of pain--and -consequences are comforts,--this radical isolation, as defence against -the contempt of mankind become morbidly clairvoyant, this restriction -upon principle to all that is bitter, sharp, and painful in knowledge, -as prescribed by the _disgust_ which had gradually resulted from -imprudent spiritual diet and pampering--it is called Romanticism,--oh, -who could realise all those feelings of mine! He, however, who could do -so would certainly forgive me everything, and more than a little folly, -boisterousness and "Joyful Wisdom"--for example, the handful of songs -which are given along with the book on this occasion,--songs in which a -poet makes merry over all poets in a way not easily pardoned.--Alas, it -is not only on the poets and their fine "lyrical sentiments" that this -reconvalescent must vent his malignity: who knows what kind of victim -he seeks, what kind of monster of material for parody will allure him -ere long? _Incipit tragœdia,_ it is said at the conclusion of this -seriously frivolous book; let people be on their guard! Something -or other extraordinarily bad and wicked announces itself: _incipit -parodia,_ there is no doubt.... - - - -2. - - ---But let us leave Herr Nietzsche; what does it matter to people -that Herr Nietzsche has got well again?... A psychologist knows few -questions so attractive as those concerning the relations of health -to philosophy, and in the case when he himself falls sick, he carries -with him all his scientific curiosity into his sickness. For, granting -that one is a person, one has necessarily also the philosophy of -one's personality; there is, however, an important distinction here. -With the one it is his defects which philosophise, with the other -it is his riches and powers. The former _requires_ his philosophy, -whether it be as support, sedative, or medicine, as salvation, -elevation, or self-alienation; with the latter it is merely a fine -luxury, at best the voluptuousness of a triumphant gratitude, which -must inscribe itself ultimately in cosmic capitals on the heaven of -ideas. In the other more usual case, however, when states of distress -occupy themselves with philosophy (as is the case with all sickly -thinkers--and perhaps the sickly thinkers preponderate in the history -of philosophy), what will happen to the thought itself which is brought -under the _pressure_ of sickness? This is the important question for -psychologists: and here experiment is possible. We philosophers do -just like a traveller who resolves to awake at a given hour, and then -quietly yields himself to sleep: we surrender ourselves temporarily, -body and soul, to the sickness, supposing we become ill--we shut, as it -were, our eyes on ourselves. And as the traveller knows that something -_does not_ sleep, that something counts the hours and will awake him, -we also know that the critical moment will find us awake--that then -something will spring forward and surprise the spirit _in the very -act,_ I mean in weakness, or reversion, or submission, or obduracy, or -obscurity, or whatever the morbid conditions are called, which in times -of good health have the _pride_ of the spirit opposed to them (for it -is as in the old rhyme: "The spirit proud, peacock and horse are the -three proudest things of earthly source"). After such self-questioning -and self-testing, one learns to look with a sharper eye at all that -has hitherto been philosophised; one divines better than before the -arbitrary by-ways, side-streets, resting-places, and _sunny_ places of -thought, to which suffering thinkers, precisely as sufferers, are led -and misled: one knows now in what direction the sickly _body_ and its -requirements unconsciously press, push, and allure the spirit--towards -the sun, stillness, gentleness, patience, medicine, refreshment in any -sense whatever. Every philosophy which puts peace higher than war, -every ethic with a negative grasp of the idea of happiness, every -metaphysic and physic that knows a _finale,_ an ultimate condition of -any kind whatever, every predominating, æsthetic or religious longing -for an aside, a beyond, an outside, an above--all these permit one -to ask whether sickness has not been the motive which inspired the -philosopher. The unconscious disguising of physiological requirements -under the cloak of the objective, the ideal, the purely spiritual, -is carried on to an alarming extent,--and I have often enough asked -myself, whether on the whole philosophy hitherto has not generally -been merely, an interpretation of the body, and a _misunderstanding -of the body._ Behind the loftiest estimates of value by which the -history of thought has hitherto been governed, misunderstandings of -the bodily constitution, either of individuals, classes, or entire -races are concealed. One may always primarily consider these audacious -freaks of metaphysic, and especially its answers to the question of the -_worth_ of existence, as symptoms of certain bodily constitutions; and -if, on the whole, when scientifically determined, not a particle of -significance attaches to such affirmations and denials of the world, -they nevertheless furnish the historian and psychologist with hints -so much the more valuable (as we have said) as symptoms of the bodily -constitution, its good or bad condition, its fullness, powerfulness, -and sovereignty in history; or else of its obstructions, exhaustions, -and impoverishments, its premonition of the end, its will to the end. I -still expect that a philosophical _physician,_ in the exceptional sense -of the word--one who applies himself to the problem of the collective -health of peoples, periods, races, and mankind generally--will some -day have the courage to follow out my suspicion to its ultimate -conclusions, and to venture on the judgment that in all philosophising -it has not hitherto been a question of "truth" at all, but of -something else,--namely, of health, futurity, growth, power, life.... - - - -3. - - -It will be surmised that I should not like to take leave ungratefully -of that period of severe sickness, the advantage of which is not -even yet exhausted in me: for I am sufficiently conscious of what I -have in advance of the spiritually robust generally, in my changeful -state of health. A philosopher who has made the tour of many states -of health, and always makes it anew, has also gone through just as -many philosophies: he really _cannot_ do otherwise than transform -his condition on every occasion into the most ingenious posture and -position,--this art of transfiguration _is_ just philosophy. We -philosophers are not at liberty to separate soul and body, as the -people separate them; and we are still less at liberty to separate -soul and spirit. We are not thinking frogs, we are not objectifying -and registering apparatuses with cold entrails,--our thoughts must -be continually born to us out of our pain, and we must, motherlike, -share with them all that we have in us of blood, heart, ardour, joy, -passion, pang, conscience, fate and fatality. Life--that means for -us to transform constantly into light and flame all that we are, and -also all that we meet with; we _cannot_ possibly do otherwise. And -as regards sickness, should we not be almost tempted to ask whether -we could in general dispense with it? It is great pain only which is -the ultimate emancipator of the spirit; for it is the teacher of the -_strong suspicion_ which makes an X out of every U[1], a true, correct -X, _i.e.,_ the ante-penultimate letter.... It is great pain only, the -long slow pain which takes time, by which we are burned as it were with -green wood, that compels us philosophers to descend into our ultimate -depths, and divest ourselves of all trust, all good-nature, veiling, -gentleness, and averageness, wherein we have perhaps formerly installed -our humanity. I doubt whether such pain "improves" us; but I know that -it _deepens_ us. Be it that we learn to confront it with our pride, our -scorn, our strength of will, doing like the Indian who, however sorely -tortured, revenges himself on his tormentor with his bitter tongue; be -it that we withdraw from the pain into the oriental nothingness--it -is called Nirvana,--into mute, benumbed, deaf self-surrender, -self-forgetfulness, and self-effacement: one emerges from such long, -dangerous exercises in self-mastery as another being, with several -additional notes of interrogation, and above all, with the _will_ to -question more than ever, more profoundly, more strictly, more sternly, -more wickedly, more quietly than has ever been questioned hitherto. -Confidence in life is gone: life itself has become a _problem._--Let -it not be imagined that one has necessarily become a hypochondriac -thereby! Even love of life is still possible--only one loves -differently. It is the love of a woman of whom one is doubtful.... The -charm, however, of all that is problematic, the delight in the X, is -too great in those more spiritual and more spiritualised men, not to -spread itself again and again like a clear glow over all the trouble of -the problematic, over all the danger of uncertainty, and even over the -jealousy of the lover. We know a new happiness.... - - - -4. - - -Finally (that the most essential may not remain unsaid), one comes -back out of such abysses, out of such severe sickness, and out of -the sickness of strong suspicion--_new-born,_ with the skin cast; -more sensitive, more wicked, with a finer taste for joy, with a more -delicate tongue for all good things, with a merrier disposition, with -a second and more dangerous innocence in joy; more childish at the -same time, and a hundred times more refined than ever before. Oh, how -repugnant to us now is pleasure, coarse, dull, drab pleasure, as the -pleasure-seekers, our "cultured" classes, our rich and ruling classes, -usually understand it! How malignantly we now listen to the great -holiday-hubbub with which "cultured people" and city-men at present -allow themselves to be forced to "spiritual enjoyment" by art, books, -and music, with the help of spirituous liquors! How the theatrical -cry of passion now pains our ear, how strange to our taste has all -the romantic riot and sensuous bustle which the cultured populace -love become (together with their aspirations after the exalted, the -elevated, and the intricate)! No, if we convalescents need an art -at all, it is _another_ art--a mocking, light, volatile, divinely -serene, divinely ingenious art, which blazes up like a clear flame, -into a cloudless heaven! Above all, an art for artists, only for -artists! We at last know better what is first of all necessary _for -it--_namely, cheerfulness, _every_ kind of cheerfulness, my friends! -also as artists:--I should like to prove it. We now know something -too well, we men of knowledge: oh, how well we are now learning to -forget and _not_ know, as artists! And as to our future, we are not -likely to be found again in the tracks of those Egyptian youths who at -night make the temples unsafe, embrace statues, and would fain unveil, -uncover, and put in clear light, everything which for good reasons -is kept concealed[2]. No, we have got disgusted with this bad taste, -this will to truth, to "truth at all costs," this youthful madness -in the love of truth: we are now too experienced, too serious, too -joyful, too singed, too profound for that.... We no longer believe that -truth remains truth when the veil is withdrawn from it: we have lived -long enough to believe this. At present we regard it as a matter of -propriety not to be anxious either to see everything naked, or to be -present at everything, or to understand and "know" everything. "Is it -true that the good God is everywhere present?" asked a little girl of -her mother: "I think that is indecent":--a hint to philosophers! One -should have more reverence for the _shame-facedness_ with which nature -has concealed herself behind enigmas and motley uncertainties. Perhaps -truth is a woman who has reasons for not showing her reasons? Perhaps -her name is Baubo, to speak in Greek?... Oh, those Greeks! They knew -how _to live:_ for that purpose it is necessary to keep bravely to -the surface, the fold and the skin; to worship appearance, to believe -in forms, tones, and words, in the whole Olympus of appearance! Those -Greeks were superficial--_from profundity!_ And are we not coming -back precisely to this point, we dare-devils of the spirit, who have -scaled the highest and most dangerous peak of contemporary thought, and -have looked around us from it, have _looked down_ from it? Are we not -precisely in this respect--Greeks? Worshippers of forms, of tones, and -of words? And precisely on that account--artists? - -RUTA, near GENOA -_Autumn,_ 1886. - - -[1] This means literally to put the numeral X instead of the numeral -V (formerly U); hence it means to double a number unfairly, to -exaggerate, humbug, cheat.--TR. - -[2] An allusion to Schiller's poem: "The Veiled Image of Sais."--TR. - - - - -JEST, RUSE AND REVENGE. - - -A PRELUDE IN RHYME. - - - 1. - - _Invitation._ - - Venture, comrades, I implore you, - On the fare I set before you, - You will like it more to-morrow, - Better still the following day: - If yet more you're then requiring, - Old success I'll find inspiring, - And fresh courage thence will borrow - Novel dainties to display. - - - 2. - - _My Good Luck._ - - Weary of Seeking had I grown, - So taught myself the way to Find: - Back by the storm I once was blown, - But follow now, where drives the wind. - - - 3. - - _Undismayed._ - - Where you're standing, dig, dig out: - Down below's the Well: - Let them that walk in darkness shout: - "Down below--there's Hell!" - - - 4. - - _Dialogue._ - - _A._ Was I ill? and is it ended? - Pray, by what physician tended? - I recall no pain endured! - - _B._ Now I know your trouble's ended: - He that can forget, is cured. - - - 5. - - _To the Virtuous._ - - Let our virtues be easy and nimble-footed in - motion, - Like unto Homer's verse ought they to come _and - to go_. - - - 6. - - _Worldly Wisdom._ - - Stay not on level plain, - Climb not the mount too high. - But half-way up remain-- - The world you'll best descry! - - - 7. - - _Vademecum--Vadetecum._ - - Attracted by my style and talk - You'd follow, in my footsteps walk? - Follow yourself unswervingly, - So--careful!--shall you follow me. - - - 8. - - _The Third Sloughing_ - - My skin bursts, breaks for fresh rebirth, - And new desires come thronging: - Much I've devoured, yet for more earth - The serpent in me's longing. - 'Twixt stone and grass I crawl once more, - Hungry, by crooked ways, - To eat the food I ate before, - Earth-fare all serpents praise! - - - 9. - - _My Roses._ - - My luck's good--I'd make yours fairer, - (Good luck ever needs a sharer), - Will you stop and pluck my roses? - - Oft mid rocks and thorns you'll linger, - Hide and stoop, suck bleeding finger-- - Will you stop and pluck my roses? - - For my good luck's a trifle vicious, - Fond of teasing, tricks malicious-- - Will you stop and pluck my roses? - - - 10. - - _The Scorner._ - - Many drops I waste and spill, - So my scornful mood you curse: - Who to brim his cup doth fill, - Many drops _must_ waste and spill-- - Yet he thinks the wine no worse. - - - 11. - - _The Proverb Speaks._ - - Harsh and gentle, fine and mean, - Quite rare and common, dirty and clean, - The fools' and the sages' go-between: - All this I will be, this have been, - Dove and serpent and swine, I ween! - - - 12. - - _To a Lover of Light._ - - That eye and sense be not fordone - E'en in the shade pursue the sun! - - - 13. - - _For Dancers._ - - Smoothest ice, - A paradise - To him who is a dancer nice. - - - 14. - - _The Brave Man._ - - A feud that knows not flaw nor break, - Rather then patched-up friendship, take. - - - 15. - - _Rust._ - - Rust's needed: keenness will not satisfy! - "He is too young!" the rabble loves to cry. - - - 16. - - _Excelsior._ - - "How shall I reach the top?" No time - For thus reflecting! Start to climb! - - - 17. - - _The Man of Power Speaks._ - Ask never! Cease that whining, pray! - Take without asking, take alway! - - - 18. - - _Narrow Souls._ - - Narrow souls hate I like the devil, - Souls wherein grows nor good nor evil. - - - 19. - - _Accidentally a Seducer_[1] - - He shot an empty word - Into the empty blue; - But on the way it met - A woman whom it slew. - - - 20. - - _For Consideration._ - - A twofold pain is easier far to bear - Than one: so now to suffer wilt thou dare? - - - 21. - - _Against Pride._ - - Brother, to puff thyself up ne'er be quick: - For burst thou shalt be by a tiny prick! - - - 22. - - _Man and Woman._ - - "The woman seize, who to thy heart appeals!" - Man's motto: woman seizes not, but steals. - - - 23. - - _Interpretation._ - - If I explain my wisdom, surely - 'Tis but entangled more securely, - I can't expound myself aright: - But he that's boldly up and doing, - His own unaided course pursuing, - Upon my image casts more light! - - - 24. - - _A Cure for Pessimism._ - - Those old capricious fancies, friend! - You say your palate naught can please, - I hear you bluster, spit and wheeze, - My love, my patience soon will end! - Pluck up your courage, follow me-- - Here's a fat toad! Now then, don't blink, - Swallow it whole, nor pause to think! - From your dyspepsia you'll be free! - - - 25. - - _A Request._ - - Many men's minds I know full well, - Yet what mine own is, cannot tell. - I cannot see--my eye's too near-- - And falsely to myself appear. - 'Twould be to me a benefit - Far from myself if I could sit, - Less distant than my enemy, - And yet my nearest friend's too nigh-- - 'Twixt him and me, just in the middle! - What do I ask for? Guess my riddle. - - - 26. - - _My Cruelty._ - - I must ascend an hundred stairs, - I must ascend: the herd declares - I'm cruel: "Are we made of stone?" - I must ascend an hundred stairs: - All men the part of stair disown. - - - 27. - - _The Wanderer._ - - "No longer path! Abyss and silence chilling!" - Thy fault! To leave the path thou wast too willing! - Now comes the test! Keep cool--eyes bright and clear! - Thou'rt lost for sure, if thou permittest--fear. - - - 28. - - _Encouragement for Beginners._ - - See the infant, helpless creeping-- - Swine around it grunt swine-talk-- - Weeping always, naught but weeping, - Will it ever learn to walk? - Never fear! Just wait, I swear it - Soon to dance will be inclined, - And this babe, when two legs bear it, - Standing on its head you'll find. - - - 29. - - _Planet Egoism._ - - Did I not turn, a rolling cask, - Ever about myself, I ask, - How could I without burning run - Close on the track of the hot sun? - - - 30. - - _The Neighbour._ - - Too nigh, my friend my joy doth mar, - I'd have him high above and far, - Or how can he become my star? - - - 31. - - _The Disguised Saint._ - - Lest we for thy bliss should slay thee, - In devil's wiles thou dost array thee, - Devil's wit and devil's dress. - But in vain! Thy looks betray thee - And proclaim thy holiness. - - - 32. - - _The Slave._ - - _A._ He stands and listens: whence his pain? - What smote his ears? Some far refrain? - Why is his heart with anguish torn? - - _B._ Like all that fetters once have worn, - He always hears the clinking--chain! - - - 33. - - _The Lone One._ - - I hate to follow and I hate to lead. - Obedience? no! and ruling? no, indeed! - Wouldst fearful be in others' sight? - Then e'en _thyself_ thou must affright: - The people but the Terror's guidance heed. - I hate to guide myself, I hate the fray. - Like the wild beasts I'll wander far afield. - In Error's pleasing toils I'll roam - Awhile, then lure myself back home, - Back home, and--to my self-seduction yield. - - - 34. - - _Seneca et hoc Genus omne._ - - They write and write (quite maddening me) - Their "sapient" twaddle airy, - As if 'twere _primum scribere,_ - _Deinde philosophari._ - - - 35. - - _Ice._ - - Yes! I manufacture ice: - Ice may help you to digest: - If you _had_ much to digest, - How you would enjoy my ice! - - - 36. - - _Youthful Writings._ - - My wisdom's A and final O - Was then the sound that smote mine ear. - Yet now it rings no longer so, - My youth's eternal Ah! and Oh! - Is now the only sound I hear.[2] - - - 37. - - _Foresight._ - - In yonder region travelling, take good care! - An hast thou wit, then be thou doubly ware! - They'll smile and lure thee; then thy limbs they'll tear: - Fanatics' country this where wits are rare! - - - 38. - - _The Pious One Speaks._ - - God loves us, _for_ he made us, sent us here!-- - "Man hath made God!" ye subtle ones reply. - His handiwork he must hold dear, - And _what he made_ shall he deny? - There sounds the devil's halting hoof, I fear. - - - 39. - - _In Summer._ - - In sweat of face, so runs the screed, - We e'er must eat our bread, - Yet wise physicians if we heed - "Eat naught in sweat," 'tis said. - The dog-star's blinking: what's his need? - What tells his blazing sign? - In sweat of face (so runs _his_ screed) - We're meant to drink our wine! - - - 40. - - _Without Envy._ - - His look betrays no envy: and ye laud him? - He cares not, asks not if your throng applaud him! - He has the eagle's eye for distance far, - He sees you not, he sees but star on star! - - - 41. - - _Heraclitism._ - - Brethren, war's the origin - Of happiness on earth: - Powder-smoke and battle-din - Witness friendship's birth! - Friendship means three things, you know,-- - Kinship in luckless plight, - Equality before the foe - Freedom--in death's sight! - - - 42. - - _Maxim of the Over-refined._ - - "Rather on your toes stand high - Than crawl upon all fours, - Rather through the keyhole spy - Than through the open doors!" - - - 43. - - _Exhortation._ - - Renown you're quite resolved to earn? - My thought about it - Is this: you need not fame, must learn - To do without it! - - - 44. - - _Thorough._ - - I an inquirer? No, that's not my calling - Only _I weigh a lot_--I'm such a lump!-- - And through the waters I keep falling, falling, - Till on the ocean's deepest bed I bump. - - - 45. - - _The Immortals._ - "To-day is meet for me, I come to-day," - Such is the speech of men foredoomed to stay. - "Thou art too soon," they cry, "thou art too late," - What care the Immortals what the rabble say? - - - 46. - - _Verdicts of the Weary._ - - The weary shun the glaring sun, afraid, - And only care for trees to gain the shade. - - - 47. - - _Descent._ - - "He sinks, he falls," your scornful looks portend: - The truth is, to your level he'll descend. - His Too Much Joy is turned to weariness, - His Too Much Light will in your darkness end. - - - 48. - - _Nature Silenced_[3] - Around my neck, on chain of hair, - The timepiece hangs--a sign of care. - For me the starry course is o'er, - No sun and shadow as before, - No cockcrow summons at the door, - For nature tells the time no more! - Too many clocks her voice have drowned, - And droning law has dulled her sound. - - - 49. - - _The Sage Speaks._ - - Strange to the crowd, yet useful to the crowd, - I still pursue my path, now sun, now cloud, - But always pass above the crowd! - - - 50. - - _He lost his Head...._ - - She now has wit--how did it come her way? - A man through her his reason lost, they say. - His head, though wise ere to this pastime lent, - Straight to the devil--no, to woman went! - - - 51. - - _A Pious Wish._ - - "Oh, might all keys be lost! 'Twere better so - And in all keyholes might the pick-lock go!" - Who thus reflects ye may as--picklock know. - - - 52. - - _Foot Writing._ - - I write not with the hand alone, - My foot would write, my foot that capers, - Firm, free and bold, it's marching on - Now through the fields, now through the papers. - - - 53. - - "_Human, All-too-Human._" ... - - Shy, gloomy, when your looks are backward thrust, - Trusting the future where yourself you trust, - Are you an eagle, mid the nobler fowl, - Or are you like Minerva's darling owl? - - - 54. - - _To my Reader._ - - Good teeth and a digestion good - I wish you--these you need, be sure! - And, certes, if my book you've stood, - Me with good humour you'll endure. - - - 55. - - _The Realistic Painter._ - - "To nature true, complete!" so he begins. - Who complete Nature to his canvas _wins?_ - Her tiniest fragment's endless, no constraint - Can know: he paints just what his _fancy_ pins: - What does his fancy pin? What he _can_ paint! - - - 56. - - _Poets' Vanity._ - - Glue, only glue to me dispense, - The wood I'll find myself, don't fear! - To give four senseless verses sense-- - That's an achievement I revere! - - - 57. - - _Taste in Choosing._ - - If to choose my niche precise - Freedom I could win from fate, - I'd be in midst of Paradise-- - Or, sooner still--before the gate! - - - 58. - - _The Crooked Nose._ - - Wide blow your nostrils, and across - The land your nose holds haughty sway: - So you, unhorned rhinoceros, - Proud mannikin, fall forward aye! - The one trait with the other goes: - A straight pride and a crooked nose. - - - 59. - - _The Pen is Scratching...._ - - The pen is scratching: hang the pen! - To scratching I'm condemned to sink! - I grasp the inkstand fiercely then - And write in floods of flowing ink. - How broad, how full the stream's career! - What luck my labours doth requite! - 'Tis true, the writing's none too clear-- - What then? Who reads the stuff I write? - - - 60. - - _Loftier Spirits._ - - This man's climbing up--let us praise him-- - But that other we love - From aloft doth eternally move, - So above even praise let us raise him, - He _comes_ from above! - - - 61. - - _The Sceptic Speaks._ - - Your life is half-way o'er; - The clock-hand moves; your soul is thrilled with fear, - It roamed to distant shore - And sought and found not, yet you--linger here! - - Your life is half-way o'er; - That hour by hour was pain and error sheer: - _Why stay?_ What seek you more? - "That's what I'm seeking--reasons why I'm here!" - - - 62. - - _Ecce Homo._ - - Yes, I know where I'm related, - Like the flame, unquenched, unsated, - I consume myself and glow: - All's turned to light I lay my hand on, - All to coal that I abandon, - Yes, I am a flame, I know! - - - 63. - - _Star Morality_[4] - - Foredoomed to spaces vast and far, - What matters darkness to the star? - - Roll calmly on, let time go by, - Let sorrows pass thee--nations die! - - Compassion would but dim the light - That distant worlds will gladly sight. - - To thee one law--be pure and bright! - - - -[1] Translated by Miss M. D. Petre. - -[2] A and O, suggestive of Ah! and Oh! refer of course to Alpha and -Omega, the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet.--TR. - -[3] Translated by Miss M. D. Petre. - -[4] Translated by Miss M. D. Petre. - - - - -BOOK FIRST - - -1. - -_The Teachers of the Object of Existence.--_Whether I look with a -good or an evil eye upon men, I find them always at one problem, each -and all of them: to do that which conduces to the conservation of the -human species. And certainly not out of any sentiment of love for -this species, but simply because nothing in them is older, stronger, -more inexorable and more unconquerable than that instinct,--because -it is precisely _the essence_ of our race and herd. Although we are -accustomed readily enough, with our usual short-sightedness, to -separate our neighbours precisely into useful and hurtful, into good -and evil men, yet when we make a general calculation, and reflect -longer on the whole question, we become distrustful of this defining -and separating, and finally leave it alone. Even the most hurtful man -is still perhaps, in respect to the conservation of the race, the -most useful of all; for he conserves in himself, or by his effect on -others, impulses without which mankind might long ago have languished -or decayed. Hatred, delight in mischief, rapacity and ambition, and -whatever else is called evil--belong to the marvellous economy of the -conservation of the race; to be sure a costly, lavish, and on the -whole very foolish economy:--which has, however, hitherto preserved our -race, _as is demonstrated to us._ I no longer know, my dear fellow-man -and neighbour, if thou _canst_ at all live to the disadvantage of the -race, and therefore, "unreasonably" and "badly"; that which could -have injured the race has perhaps died out many millenniums ago, and -now belongs to the things which are no longer possible even to God. -Indulge thy best or thy worst desires, and above all, go to wreck!--in -either case thou art still probably the furtherer and benefactor of -mankind in some way or other, and in that respect thou mayest have thy -panegyrists--and similarly thy mockers! But thou wilt never find him -who would be quite qualified to mock at thee, the individual, at thy -best, who could bring home to thy conscience its limitless, buzzing -and croaking wretchedness so as to be in accord with truth! To laugh -at oneself as one would have to laugh in order to laugh _out of the -veriest truth,_--to do this, the best have not hitherto had enough -of the sense of truth, and the most endowed have had far too little -genius! There is perhaps still a future even for laughter! When the -maxim, "The race is all, the individual is nothing,"--has incorporated -itself in humanity, and when access stands open to every one at all -times to this ultimate emancipation and irresponsibility.--Perhaps -then laughter will have united with wisdom, perhaps then there will -be only "joyful wisdom." Meanwhile, however, it is quite otherwise, -meanwhile the comedy of existence has not yet "become conscious" of -itself, meanwhile it is still the period of tragedy, the period of -morals and religions. What does the ever new appearing of founders of -morals and religions, of instigators of struggles for moral valuations, -of teachers of remorse of conscience and religious war, imply? What -do these heroes on this stage imply? For they have hitherto been the -heroes of it, and all else, though solely visible for the time being, -and too close to one, has served only as preparation for these heroes, -whether as machinery and coulisse, or in the rôle of confidants and -valets. (The poets, for example, have always been the valets of some -morality or other.)--It is obvious of itself that these tragedians -also work in the interest of the _race,_ though they may believe that -they work in the interest of God, and as emissaries of God. They also -further the life of the species, _in that they further the belief in -life._ "It is worthwhile to live"--each of them calls out,--"there is -something of importance in this life; life has something behind it and -under it; take care!" That impulse, which rules equally in the noblest -and the ignoblest, the impulse to the conservation of the species, -breaks forth from time to time as reason and passion of spirit; it -has then a brilliant train of motives about it, and tries with all -its power to make us forget that fundamentally it is just impulse, -instinct, folly and baselessness. Life _should_ beloved, _for_...! -Man _should_ benefit himself and his neighbour, _for_...! And whatever -all these _shoulds_ and _fors_ imply, and may imply in future! In -order that that which necessarily and always happens of itself and -without design, may henceforth appear to be done by design, and may -appeal to men as reason and ultimate command,--for that purpose the -ethiculturist comes forward as the teacher of design in existence; for -that purpose he devises a second and different existence, and by means -of this new mechanism he lifts the old common existence off its old -common hinges. No! he does not at all want us to _laugh_ at existence, -nor even at ourselves--nor at himself; to him an individual is always -an individual, something first and last and immense, to him there are -no species, no sums, no noughts. However foolish and fanatical his -inventions and valuations may be, however much he may misunderstand the -course of nature and deny its conditions--and all systems of ethics -hitherto have been foolish and anti-natural to such a degree that -mankind would have been ruined by any one of them had it got the upper -hand,--at any rate, every time that "the hero" came upon the stage -something new was attained: the frightful counterpart of laughter, -the profound convulsion of many individuals at the thought, "Yes, it -is worth while to live! yes, I am worthy to live!"--life, and thou, -and I, and all of us together became for a while _interesting_ to -ourselves once more.--It is not to be denied that hitherto laughter and -reason and nature have _in the long run_ got the upper hand of all the -great teachers of design: in the end the short tragedy always passed -over once more into the eternal comedy of existence; and the "waves -of innumerable laughters"--to use the expression of Æschylus--must -also in the end beat over the greatest of these tragedies. But with -all this corrective laughter, human nature has on the whole been -changed by the ever new appearance of those teachers of the design of -existence,--human nature has now an additional requirement, the very -requirement of the ever new appearance of such teachers and doctrines -of "design." Man has gradually become a visionary animal, who has to -fulfil one more condition of existence than the other animals: man -_must_ from time to time believe that he knows _why_ he exists; his -species cannot flourish without periodically confiding in life! Without -the belief in _reason in life!_ And always from time to time will -the human race decree anew that "there is something which really may -not be laughed at." And the most clairvoyant philanthropist will add -that "not only laughing and joyful wisdom, but also the tragic with -all its sublime irrationality, counts among the means and necessities -for the conservation of the race!"--And consequently! Consequently! -Consequently! Do you understand me, oh my brothers? Do you understand -this new law of ebb and flow? We also shall have our time! - - -2. - -_The Intellectual Conscience._--I have always the same experience over -again, and always make a new effort against it; for although it is -evident to me I do not want to believe it: _in the greater number of -men the intellectual conscience is lacking;_ indeed, it would often -seem to me that in demanding such a thing, one is as solitary in the -largest cities as in the desert. Everyone looks at you with strange -eyes and continues to make use of his scales, calling this good and -that bad; and no one blushes for shame when you remark that these -weights are not the full amount,--there is also no indignation against -you; perhaps they laugh at your doubt. I mean to say that _the greater -number of people_ do not find it contemptible to believe this or that, -and live according to it, _without_ having been previously aware of -the ultimate and surest reasons for and against it, and without even -giving themselves any trouble about such reasons afterwards,--the most -Sifted men and the noblest women still belong to this "greater number." -But what is kind-heartedness, refinement and genius to me, if he who -has these virtues harbours indolent sentiments in belief and judgment, -if _the longing for certainty_ does not rule in him, as his innermost -desire and profoundest need--as that which separates higher from lower -men! In certain pious people I have found a hatred of reason, and -have been favourably disposed to them for it: their bad intellectual -conscience at least still betrayed itself in this manner! But to stand -in the midst of this _rerum concordia discors_ and all the marvellous -uncertainty and ambiguity of existence, _and not to question,_ not -to tremble with desire and delight in questioning, not even to hate -the questioner--perhaps even to make merry over him to the extent of -weariness--that is what I regard as _contemptible,_ and it is this -sentiment which I first of all search for in every one--some folly or -other always persuades me anew that every man has this sentiment, as -man. This is my special kind of unrighteousness. - - -3. - -_Noble and Ignoble._--To ignoble natures all noble, magnanimous -sentiments appear inexpedient, and on that account first and foremost, -as incredible: they blink with their eyes when they hear of such -matters, and seem inclined to say," there will, no doubt, be some -advantage therefrom, one cannot see through all walls;"--they are -jealous of the noble person, as if he sought advantage by back-stair -methods. When they are all too plainly convinced of the absence of -selfish intentions and emoluments, the noble person is regarded by -them as a kind of fool: they despise him in his gladness, and laugh -at the lustre of his eye. "How can a person rejoice at being at a -disadvantage, how can a person with open eyes want to meet with -disadvantage! It must be a disease of the reason with which the noble -affection is associated";--so they think, and they look depreciatingly -thereon; just as they depreciate the joy which the lunatic derives -from his fixed idea. The ignoble nature is distinguished by the fact -that it keeps its advantage steadily in view, and that this thought -of the end and advantage is even stronger than its strongest impulse: -not to be tempted to inexpedient activities by its impulses--that is -its wisdom and inspiration. In comparison with the ignoble nature the -higher nature is _more irrational:_--for the noble, magnanimous, and -self-sacrificing person succumbs in fact to his impulses, and in his -best moments his reason _lapses_ altogether. An animal, which at the -risk of life protects its young, or in the pairing season follows the -female where it meets with death, does not think of the risk and the -death; its reason pauses likewise, because its delight in its young, or -in the female, and the fear of being deprived of this delight, dominate -it exclusively; it becomes stupider than at other times, like the noble -and magnanimous person. He possesses feelings of pleasure and pain of -such intensity that the intellect must either be silent before them, or -yield itself to their service: his heart then goes into his head, and -one henceforth speaks of "passions." (Here and there to be sure, the -antithesis to this, and as it were the "reverse of passion," presents -itself; for example in Fontenelle, to whom some one once laid the hand -on the heart with the words, "What you have there, my dearest friend, -is brain also.") It is the unreason, or perverse reason of passion, -which the ignoble man despises in the noble individual, especially -when it concentrates upon objects whose value appears to him to be -altogether fantastic and arbitrary. He is offended at him who succumbs -to the passion of the belly, but he understands the allurement which -here plays the tyrant; but he does not understand, for example, how -a person out of love of knowledge can stake his health and honour on -the game. The taste of the higher nature devotes itself to exceptional -matters, to things which usually do not affect people, and seem to have -no sweetness; the higher nature has a singular standard of value. Yet -it is mostly of the belief that it has _not_ a singular standard of -value in its idiosyncrasies of taste; it rather sets up its values -and non-values as the generally valid values and non-values, and thus -becomes incomprehensible and impracticable. It is very rarely that a -higher nature has so much reason over and above as to understand and -deal with everyday men as such; for the most part it believes in its -passion as if it were the concealed passion of every one, and precisely -in this belief it is full of ardour and eloquence. If then such -exceptional men do not perceive themselves as exceptions, how can they -ever understand the ignoble natures and estimate average men fairly! -Thus it is that they also speak of the folly, inexpediency and fantasy -of mankind, full of astonishment at the madness of the world, and that -it will not recognise the "one thing needful for it."--This is the -eternal unrighteousness of noble natures. - - -4. - -_That which Preserves the Species.--_The strongest and most evil -spirits have hitherto advanced mankind the most: they always rekindled -the sleeping passions--all orderly arranged society lulls the -passions to sleep; they always reawakened the sense of comparison, of -contradiction, of delight in the new, the adventurous, the untried; -they compelled men to set opinion against opinion, ideal plan against -ideal plan. By means of arms, by upsetting boundary-stones, by -violations of piety most of all: but also by new religions and morals! -The same kind of "wickedness" is in every teacher and preacher of the -_new--_which makes a conqueror infamous, although it expresses itself -more refinedly, and does not immediately set the muscles in motion (and -just on that account does not make so infamous!) The new, however, is -under all circumstances the _evil,_ as that which wants to conquer, -which tries to upset the old boundary-stones and the old piety; only -the old is the good! The good men of every age are those who go to the -roots of the old thoughts and bear fruit with them, the agriculturists -of the spirit. But every soil becomes finally exhausted, and the -ploughshare of evil must always come once more.--There is at present -a fundamentally erroneous theory of morals which is much celebrated, -especially in England: according to it the judgments "good" and "evil" -are the accumulation of the experiences of that which is "expedient" -and "inexpedient"; according to this theory, that which is called -good is conservative of the species, what is called evil, however, is -detrimental to it. But in reality the evil impulses are just in as high -a degree expedient, indispensable, and conservative of the species as -the good:--only, their function is different. - - -5. - -_Unconditional Duties._--All men who feel that they need the strongest -words and intonations, the most eloquent gestures and attitudes, in -order to operate _at all_--revolutionary politicians, socialists, -preachers of repentance with or without Christianity, with all -of whom there must be no mere half-success,--all these speak of -"duties," and indeed, always of duties, which have the character -of being unconditional--without such they would have no right to -their excessive pathos: they know that right well! They grasp, -therefore, at philosophies of morality which preach some kind of -categorical imperative, or they assimilate a good lump of religion, -as, for example, Mazzini did. Because they want to be trusted -unconditionally, it is first of all necessary for them to trust -themselves unconditionally, on the basis of some ultimate, undebatable -command, sublime in itself, as the ministers and instruments of which, -they would fain feel and announce themselves. Here we have the most -natural, and for the most part, very influential opponents of moral -enlightenment and scepticism: but they are rare. On the other hand, -there is always a very numerous class of those opponents wherever -interest teaches subjection, while repute and honour seem to forbid -it. He who feels himself dishonoured at the thought of being the -_instrument_ of a prince, or of a party and sect, or even of wealthy -power (for example, as the descendant of a proud, ancient family), -but wishes just to be this instrument, or must be so before himself -and before the public--such a person has need of pathetic principles -which can at all times be appealed to:--principles of an unconditional -_ought,_ to which a person can subject himself without shame, and can -show himself subjected. All more refined servility holds fast to the -categorical imperative, and is the mortal enemy of those who want to -take away the unconditional character of duty: propriety demands this -from them, and not only propriety. - - -6. - -_Loss of Dignity.--_Meditation has lost all its dignity of form; the -ceremonial and solemn bearing of the meditative person have been made a -mockery, and one would no longer endure a wise man of the old style. We -think too hastily and on the way and while walking and in the midst of -business of all kinds, even when we think on the most serious matters; -we require little preparation, even little quiet:--it is as if each -of us carried about an unceasingly revolving machine in his head, -which still works, even under the most unfavourable circumstances. -Formerly it was perceived in a person that on some occasion he wanted -to think--it was perhaps the exception!--that he now wanted to become -wiser and collected his mind on a thought: he put on a long face for -it, as for a prayer, and arrested his step-nay, stood still for hours -on the street when the thought "came"--on one or on two legs. It was -thus "worthy of the affair"! - - -7. - -_Something for the Laborious.--_He who at present wants to make moral -questions a subject of study has an immense field of labour before him. -All kinds of passions must be thought about singly, and followed singly -throughout periods, peoples, great and insignificant individuals; -all their rationality, all their valuations and elucidations of -things, ought to come to light! Hitherto all that has given colour -to existence has lacked a history: where would one find a history of -love, of avance, of envy, of conscience, of piety, of cruelty? Even -a comparative history of law, as also of punishment, has hitherto -been completely lacking. Have the different divisions of the day, the -consequences of a regular appointment of the times for labour, feast, -and repose, ever been made the object of investigation? Do we know the -moral effects of the alimentary substances? Is there a philosophy of -nutrition? (The ever-recurring outcry for and against vegetarianism -proves that as yet there is no such philosophy!) Have the experiences -with regard to communal living, for example, in monasteries, been -collected? Has the dialectic of marriage and friendship been set -forth? The customs of the learned, of trades-people, of artists, and -of mechanics--have they already found their thinkers? There is so much -to think of thereon! All that up till now has been considered as the -"conditions of existence," of human beings, and all reason, passion -and superstition in this consideration--have they been investigated to -the end? The observation alone of the different degrees of development -which the human impulses have attained, and could yet attain, according -to the different moral climates, would furnish too much work for the -most laborious; whole generations, and regular co-operating generations -of the learned, would be needed in order to exhaust the points of view -and the material here furnished. The same is true of the determining -of the reasons for the differences of the moral climates ("_on what -account_ does this sun of a fundamental moral judgment and standard of -highest value shine here--and that sun there?"). And there is again -a new labour which points out the erroneousness of all these reasons, -and determines the entire essence of the moral judgments hitherto made. -Supposing all these labours to be accomplished, the most critical of -all questions would then come into the foreground: whether science is -in a position to _furnish_ goals for human action, after it has proved -that it can take them away and annihilate them--and then would be the -time for a process of experimenting, in which every kind of heroism -could satisfy itself, an experimenting for centuries, which would -put into the shade all the great labours and sacrifices of previous -history. Science has not hitherto built its Cyclopic structures; for -that also the time will come. - - -8. - -_Unconscious Virtues.--_All qualities in a man of which he is -conscious--and especially when he presumes that they are visible and -evident to his environment also--are subject to quite other laws -of development than those qualities which are unknown to him, or -imperfectly known, which by their subtlety can also conceal themselves -from the subtlest observer, and hide as it were behind nothing--as in -the case of the delicate sculptures on the scales of reptiles (it would -be an error to suppose them an adornment or a defence--for one sees -them only with the microscope; consequently, with an eye artificially -strengthened to an extent of vision which similar animals, to which -they might perhaps have meant adornment or defence, do not possess!). -Our visible moral qualities, and especially our moral qualities -_believed to be_ visible, follow their own course,--and our invisible -qualities of similar name, which in relation to others neither serve -for adornment nor defence, _also follow their own course:_ quite -a different course probably, and with lines and refinements, and -sculptures, which might perhaps give pleasure to a God with a divine -microscope. We have, for example, our diligence, our ambition, our -acuteness: all the world knows about them,--and besides, we have -probably once more _our_ diligence, _our_ ambition, _our_ acuteness; -but for these--our reptile scales--the microscope has not yet been -invented!--And here the adherents of instinctive morality will say, -"Bravo! He at least regards unconscious virtues as possible--that -suffices us!"--Oh, ye unexacting creatures! - - -9. - -_Our Eruptions._--Numberless things which humanity acquired in its -earlier stages, but so weakly and embryonically that it could not be -noticed that they were acquired, are thrust suddenly into light long -afterwards, perhaps after the lapse of centuries: they have in the -interval become strong and mature. In some ages this or that talent, -this or that virtue seems to be entirely lacking, as it--is in some -men; but let us wait only for the grandchildren and grandchildren's -children, if we have time to wait,--they bring the interior of their -grandfathers into the sun, that interior of which the grandfathers -themselves were unconscious. The son, indeed, is often the betrayer of -his father; the latter understands himself better since he has got his -son. We have all hidden gardens and plantations in us; and by another -simile, we are all growing volcanoes, which will have their hours of -eruption:--how near or how distant this is, nobody of course knows, not -even the good God. - - -10. - -_A Species of Atavism._--I like best to think of the rare men of an -age as suddenly emerging after-shoots of past cultures, and of their -persistent strength: like the atavism of a people and its civilisation ---there is thus still something in them to _think of!_ They now seem -strange, rare, and extraordinary: and he who feels these forces in -himself has to foster them in face of a different, opposing world; he -has to defend them, honour them, and rear them to maturity: and he -either becomes a great man thereby, or a deranged and eccentric person, -if he does not altogether break down betimes. Formerly these rare -qualities were usual, and were consequently regarded as common: they -did not distinguish people. Perhaps they were demanded and presupposed; -it was impossible to become great with them, for indeed there was also -no danger of becoming insane and solitary with them.--It is principally -in the _old-established_ families and castes of a people that such -after-effects of old impulses present themselves, while there is no -probability of such atavism where races, habits, and valuations change -too rapidly. For the _tempo_ of the evolutional forces in peoples -implies just as much as in music; for our case an _andante_ of -evolution is absolutely necessary, as the _tempo_ of a passionate and -slow spirit:--and the spirit of conserving families is certainly of -_that_ sort. - - -11. - -_Consciousness._--Consciousness is the last and latest development -of the organic, and consequently also the most unfinished and least -powerful of these developments. Innumerable mistakes originate out -of consciousness, which, "in spite of fate," as Homer says, cause an -animal or a man to break down earlier than might be necessary. If the -conserving bond of the instincts were not very much more powerful, -it would not generally serve as a regulator: by perverse judging and -dreaming with open eyes, by superficiality and credulity, in short, -just by consciousness, mankind would necessarily have broken down: -or rather, without the former there would long ago have been nothing -more of the latter! Before a function is fully formed and matured, it -is a danger to the organism: all the better if it be then thoroughly -tyrannised over! Consciousness is thus thoroughly tyrannised over--and -not least by the pride in it! It is thought that here is _the -quintessence_ of man; that which is enduring, eternal, ultimate, and -most original in him! Consciousness is regarded as a fixed, given -magnitude! Its growth and intermittences are denied! It is accepted -as the "unity of the organism"!--This ludicrous overvaluation and -misconception of consciousness has as its result the great utility -that a too rapid maturing of it has thereby been _hindered._ Because -men believed that they already possessed consciousness, they gave -themselves very little trouble to acquire it--and even now it is not -otherwise! It is still an entirely new _problem_ just dawning on the -human eye, and hardly yet plainly recognisable: _to embody knowledge -in ourselves_ and make it instinctive,--a problem which is only seen -by those who have grasped the fact that hitherto our _errors_ alone -have been embodied in us, and that all our consciousness is relative to -errors! - - -12. - -_The Goal of Science.--_What? The ultimate goal of science is to create -the most pleasure possible to man, and the least possible pain? But -what if pleasure and pain should be so closely connected that he who -_wants_ the greatest possible amount of the one _must_ also have the -greatest possible amount of the other,--that he who wants to experience -the "heavenly high jubilation,"[1] must also be ready to be "sorrowful -unto death"?[2] And it is so, perhaps! The Stoics at least believed it -was so, and they were consistent when they wished to have the least -possible pleasure, in order to have the least possible pain from life. -(When one uses the expression: "The virtuous man is the happiest," it -is as much the sign-board of the school for the masses, as a casuistic -subtlety for the subtle.) At present also ye have still the choice: -either the _least possible pain,_ in short painlessness--and after -all, socialists and politicians of all parties could not honourably -promise more to their people,--or the _greatest possible amount of -pain,_ as the price of the growth of a fullness of refined delights and -enjoyments rarely tasted hitherto! If ye decide for the former, if ye -therefore want to depress and minimise man's capacity for pain, well, -ye must also depress and minimise his _capacity for enjoyment._ In -fact, one can further the one as well as the other goal _by science!_ -Perhaps science is as yet best known by its capacity for depriving man -of enjoyment, and making him colder, more statuesque, and more Stoical. -But it might also turn out to be the _great pain-bringer!_--And then, -perhaps, its counteracting force would be discovered simultaneously, -its immense capacity for making new sidereal worlds of enjoyment beam -forth! - - -[1] Allusions to the song of Clara in Goethe's "Egmont."--TR. - - -13. - -_The Theory of the Sense of Power._--We exercise our power over others -by doing them good or by doing them ill--that is all we care for! -_Doing ill_ to those on whom we have to make our power felt; for pain -is a far more sensitive means for that purpose than pleasure:--pain -always asks concerning the cause, while pleasure is inclined to keep -within itself and not look backward. _Doing good_ and being kind -to those who are in any way already dependent on us (that is, who -are accustomed to think of us as their _raison d'être);_ we want to -increase their power, because we thus increase our own; or we want -to show them the advantage there is in being in our power,--they -thus become more contented with their position, and more hostile -to the enemies of _our_ power and readier to contend with to If we -make sacrifices in doing good or in doing ill, it does not alter the -ultimate value of our actions; even if we stake our life in the cause, -as martyrs for the sake of our church, it is a sacrifice to _our_ -longing for power, or for the purpose of conserving our sense of power. -He who under these circumstances feels that he "is in possession of -truth" how many possessions does he not let go, in order to preserve -this feeling! What does he not throw overboard, in order to keep -himself "up,"--that is to say, _above_ the others who lack the truth. -Certainly the condition we are in when we do ill is seldom so pleasant, -so purely pleasant as that in which we practise kindness,--it is an -indication that we still lack power, or it betrays ill-humour at this -defect in us; it brings with it new dangers and uncertainties as to -the power we already possess, and clouds our horizon by the prospect -of revenge, scorn, punishment and failure. Perhaps only tee most -susceptible to the sense of power and eager for it, will prefer to -impress the seal of power on the resisting individual.--those to whom -the sight of the already subjugated person as the object of benevolence -is a burden and a tedium. It is a question how a person is accustomed -to _season_ his life; it is a matter of taste whether a person would -rather have the slow or the sudden to safe or the dangerous and daring -increase of power,--he seeks this or that seasoning always according -to his temperament. An easy booty is something contemptible to proud -natures; they have an agreeable sensation only at the sight of men of -unbroken spirit who could be enemies to them, and similarly, also, at -the sight of all not easily accessible possession; they are often hard -toward the sufferer, for he is not worthy of their effort or their -pride,--but they show themselves so much the more courteous towards -their _equals,_ with whom strife and struggle would in any case be full -of honour, _if_ at any time an occasion for it should present itself. -It is under the agreeable feelings of _this_ perspective that the -members of the knightly caste have habituated themselves to exquisite -courtesy toward one another.--Pity is the most pleasant feeling in -those who have not much pride, and have no prospect of great conquests: -the easy booty--and that is what every sufferer is--is for them an -enchanting thing. Pity is said to be the virtue of the gay lady. - - -14. - -_What is called Love._--The lust of property, and love: what different -associations each of these ideas evoke!--and yet it might be the same -impulse twice named: on the one occasion disparaged from the standpoint -of those already possessing (in whom the impulse has attained -something of repose,--who are now apprehensive for the safety of their -"possession"); on the other occasion viewed from the standpoint of -the unsatisfied and thirsty, and therefore glorified as "good." Our -love of our neighbour,--is it not a striving after new _property?_ -And similarly our love of knowledge, of truth; and in general all the -striving after novelties? We gradually become satiated with the old and -securely possessed, and again stretch out our hands; even the finest -landscape in which we live for three months is no longer certain of our -love, and any kind of more distant coast excites our covetousness: the -possession for the most part becomes smaller through possessing. Our -pleasure in ourselves seeks to maintain itself by always transforming -something new _into ourselves,_--that is just possessing. To become -satiated with a possession, that is to become satiated with ourselves. -(One can also suffer from excess,--even the desire to cast away, to -share out, may assume the honourable name of "love.") When we see any -one suffering, we willingly utilise the opportunity then afforded -to take possession of him; the beneficent and sympathetic man, for -example, does this; he also calls the desire for new possession -awakened in him, by the name of "love," and has enjoyment in it, as -in a new acquisition suggesting itself to him. The love of the sexes, -however, betrays itself most plainly as the striving after possession: -the lover wants the unconditioned, sole possession of the person longed -for by him; he wants just as absolute power over her soul as over her -body; he wants to be loved solely, and to dwell and rule in the other -soul as what is highest and most to be desired. When one considers -that this means precisely to _exclude_ all the world from a precious -possession, a happiness, and an enjoyment; when one considers that -the lover has in view the impoverishment and privation of all other -rivals, and would like to become the dragon of his golden hoard, as -the most inconsiderate and selfish of all "conquerors" and exploiters; -when one considers finally that to the lover himself, the whole world -besides appears indifferent, colourless, and worthless, and that he -is ready to make every sacrifice, disturb every arrangement, and put -every other interest behind his own,--one is verily surprised that -this ferocious lust of property and injustice of sexual love should -have been glorified and deified to such an extent at all times; yea, -that out of this love the conception of love as the antithesis of -egoism should have been derived, when it is perhaps precisely the most -unqualified expression of egoism. Here, evidently, the non-possessors -and desirers have determined the usage of language,--there were, of -course, always too many of them. Those who have been favoured with much -possession and satiety, have, to be sure, dropped a word now and then -about the "raging demon," as, for instance, the most lovable and most -beloved of all the Athenians--Sophocles; but Eros always laughed at -such revilers,--they were always his greatest favourites.--There is, of -course, here and there on this terrestrial sphere a kind of sequel to -love, in which that covetous longing of two persons for one another has -yielded to a new desire and covetousness, to a _common,_ higher thirst -for a superior ideal standing above them: but who knows this love? Who -has experienced it? Its right name is _friendship._ - - -15. - -_Out of the Distance._--This mountain makes the whole district which -it dominates charming in every way, and full of significance. After -we have said this to ourselves for the hundredth time, we are so -irrationally and so gratefully disposed towards it, as the giver -of this charm, that we fancy it must itself be the most charming -thing in the district--and so we climb it, and are undeceived. All -of a sudden, both it and the landscape around us and under us, are -as it were disenchanted; we had forgotten that many a greatness, -like many a goodness, wants only to be seen at a certain distance, -and entirely from below, not from above,--it is thus only that _it -operates._ Perhaps you know men in your neighbourhood who can only -look at themselves from a certain distance to find themselves at all -endurable, or attractive and enlivening; they are to be dissuaded from -self-knowledge. - - -16. - -_Across the Plank.--_One must be able to dissimulate in intercourse -with persons who are ashamed of their feelings; they take a sudden -aversion to anyone who surprises them in a state of tenderness, or of -enthusiastic and high-running feeling, as if he had seen their secrets. -If one wants to be kind to them in such moments one should make them -laugh, or say some kind of cold, playful wickedness:--their feeling -thereby congeals, and they are again self-possessed. But I give the -moral before the story.--We were once on a time so near one another -in the course of our lives, that nothing more seemed to hinder our -friendship and fraternity, and there was merely a small plank between -us. While you were just about to step on it, I asked you: "Do you want -to come across the plank to me?" But then you did not want to come -any longer; and when I again entreated, you were silent. Since then -mountains and torrents, and whatever separates and alienates, have -interposed between us, and even if we wanted to come to one another, -we could no longer do so! When, however, you now remember that small -plank, you have no longer words,--but merely sobs and amazement. - - -17. - -_Motivation of Poverty._--We cannot, to be sure, by any artifice make a -rich and richly-flowing virtue out of a poor one, but we can gracefully -enough reinterpret its poverty into necessity, so that its aspect no -longer gives pain to us, and we cease making reproachful faces at fate -on account of it. It is thus that the wise gardener does who puts the -tiny streamlet of his garden into the arms of a fountain-nymph, and -thus motivates the poverty:--and who would not like him need the nymphs! - - -18. - -_Ancient Pride._--The ancient savour of nobility is lacking in us, -because the ancient slave is lacking in our sentiment. A Greek of noble -descent found such immense intermediate stages, and such a distance -betwixt his elevation and that ultimate baseness, that he could hardly -even see the slave plainly: even Plato no longer saw him entirely. -It is otherwise with us, accustomed as we are to the _doctrine_ of -the equality of men, although not to the equality itself. A being who -has not the free disposal of himself and has not got leisure,--that -is not regarded by us as anything contemptible; there is perhaps too -much of this kind of slavishness in each of us, in accordance with the -conditions of our social order and activity, which are fundamentally -different from those of the ancients.--The Greek philosopher went -through life with the secret feeling that there were many more slaves -than people supposed--that is to say, that every one was a slave who -was not a philosopher. His pride was puffed up when he considered that -even the mightiest of the earth were thus to be looked upon as slaves. -This pride is also unfamiliar to us, and impossible; the word "slave" -has not its full force for us even in simile. - - -19. - -_Evil._--Test the life of the best and most productive men and nations, -and ask yourselves whether a tree which is to grow proudly heavenward -can dispense with bad weather and tempests: whether disfavour and -opposition from without, whether every kind of hatred, jealousy, -stubbornness, distrust, severity, greed, and violence do not belong -to the _favouring_ circumstances without which a great growth even in -virtue is hardly possible? The poison by which the weaker nature is -destroyed is strengthening to the strong individual--and he does not -call it poison. - - -20. - -_Dignity of Folly._--Several millenniums further on in the path of the -last century!--and in everything that man does the highest prudence -will be exhibited: but just thereby prudence will have lost all its -dignity. It will then, sure enough, be necessary to be prudent, but it -will also be so usual and common, that a more fastidious taste will -feel this necessity as _vulgarity._ And just as a tyranny of truth -and science would be in a position to raise the value of falsehood, -a tyranny of prudence could force into prominence a new species of -nobleness. To be noble--that might then mean, perhaps, to be capable of -follies. - - -21. - -_To the Teachers of Unselfishness._--The virtues of a man are called -_good,_ not in respect to the results they have for himself, but in -respect to the results which we expect therefrom for ourselves and -for society:--we have all along had very little unselfishness, very -little "non-egoism" in our praise of the virtues! For otherwise it -could not but have been seen that the virtues (such as diligence, -obedience, chastity, piety, justice) are mostly _injurious_ to -their possessors, as impulses which rule in them too vehemently and -ardently, and do not want to be kept in co-ordination with the other -impulses by the reason. If you have a virtue, an actual, perfect -virtue (and not merely a kind of impulse towards virtue!)--you are -its _victim!_ But your neighbour praises your virtue precisely on that -account! One praises the diligent man though he injures his sight, or -the originality and freshness of his spirit, by his diligence; the -youth is honoured and regretted who has "worn himself out by work," -because one passes the judgment that "for society as a whole the loss -of the best individual is only a small sacrifice! A pity that this -sacrifice should be necessary! A much greater pity it is true, if the -individual should think differently and regard his preservation and -development as more important than his work in the service of society!" -And so one regrets this youth, not on his own account, but because -a devoted _instrument,_ regardless of self--a so-called "good man," -has been lost to society by his death. Perhaps one further considers -the question, whether it would not have been more advantageous for -the interests of society if he had laboured with less disregard of -himself, and had preserved himself longer-indeed one readily admits -an advantage therefrom but one esteems the other advantage, namely, -that a _sacrifice_ has been made, and that the disposition of the -sacrificial animal has once more been _obviously_ endorsed--as higher -and more enduring. It is accordingly, on the one part, the instrumental -character in the virtues which is praised when the virtues are praised, -and on the other part the blind, ruling impulse in every virtue which -refuse to let itself be kept within bounds by the general advantage -to the individual; in short, what is praised is the unreason in the -virtues, in consequence of which the individual allows himself to be -transformed into a function of the whole. The praise of the virtues is -the praise of something which is privately injurious to the individual; -it is praise of impulses which deprive man of his noblest self-love, -and the power to take the best care of himself. To be sure, for the -teaching and embodying of virtuous habits a series of effects of virtue -are displayed, which make it appear that virtue and private advantage -are closely related,--and there is in fact such a relationship! -Blindly furious diligence, for example, the typical virtue of an -instrument, is represented as the way to riches and honour, and as -the most beneficial antidote to tedium and passion: but people are -silent concerning its danger, its greatest dangerousness. Education -proceeds in this manner throughout: it endeavours, by a series of -enticements and advantages, to determine the individual to a certain -mode of thinking and acting, which, when it has become habit, impulse -and passion, rules in him and over him, _in opposition to his ultimate -advantage,_ but "for the general good." How often do I see that blindly -furious diligence does indeed create riches and honours, but at the -same time deprives the organs of the refinement by virtue of which -alone an enjoyment of riches and honours is possible; so that really -the main expedient for combating tedium and passion, simultaneously -blunts the senses and makes the spirit refractory towards new stimuli! -(The busiest of all ages--our age--does not know how to make anything -out of its great diligence and wealth, except always more and more -wealth, and more and more diligence; there is even more genius needed -for laying out wealth than for acquiring it!--Well, we shall have -our "grandchildren"!) If the education succeeds, every virtue of the -individual is a public utility, and a private disadvantage in respect -to the highest private end,--probably some psycho-æsthetic stunting, or -even premature dissolution. One should consider successively from the -same standpoint the virtues of obedience, chastity, piety, and justice. -The praise of the unselfish, self-sacrificing, virtuous person--he, -consequently, who does not expend his whole energy and reason for -_his own_ conservation, development, elevation, furtherance and -augmentation of power, but lives as regards himself unassumingly and -thoughtlessly, perhaps even indifferently or ironically--this praise -has in any case not originated out of the spirit of unselfishness! The -"neighbour" praises unselfishness because _he profits by it!_ If the -neighbour were "unselfishly" disposed himself, he would reject that -destruction of power, that injury for _his_ advantage, he would thwart -such inclinations in their origin, and above all he would manifest his -unselfishness just by _not giving it a good name!_ The fundamental -contradiction in that morality which at present stands in high honour -is here indicated: the _motives_ to such a morality are in antithesis -to its _principle!_ That with which this morality wishes to prove -itself, refutes it out of its criterion of what is moral! The maxim, -"Thou shalt renounce thyself and offer thyself as a sacrifice," in -order not to be inconsistent with its own morality, could only be -decreed by a being who himself renounced his own advantage thereby, and -who perhaps in the required self-sacrifice of individuals brought about -his own dissolution. As soon; however, as the neighbour (or society) -recommended altruism _on account of its utility,_ the precisely -antithetical proposition, "Thou shalt seek thy advantage even at the -expense of everybody else," was brought into use: accordingly, "thou -shalt," and "thou shalt not," are preached in one breath! - - -22. - -_L'Ordre du jour pour le Roi.--_The day commences: let us begin to -arrange for this day the business and fêtes of our most gracious lord, -who at present is still pleased to repose. His Majesty has bad weather -to-day: we shall be careful not to call it bad; we shall not speak -of the weather,--but we shall go through to-day's business somewhat -more ceremoniously and make the fêtes somewhat more festive than would -otherwise be necessary. His Majesty may perhaps even be sick: we shall -give the last good news of the evening at breakfast, the arrival of M. -Montaigne, who knows how to joke so pleasantly about his sickness,--he -suffers from stone. We shall receive several persons (persons!--what -would that old inflated frog, who will be among them, say, if he heard -this word! "I am no person," he would say, "but always the thing -itself")--and the reception will last longer than is pleasant to -anybody; a sufficient reason for telling about the poet who wrote over -his door, "He who enters here will do me an honour; he who does not--a -favour."--That is, forsooth, saying a discourteous thing in a courteous -manner! And perhaps this poet is quite justified on his part in being -discourteous; they say that his rhymes are better than the rhymester. -Well, let him still make many of them, and withdraw himself as much -as possible from the world: and that is doubtless the significance of -his well-bred rudeness! A prince, on the other hand, is always of more -value than his "verse," even when--but what are we about? We gossip,' -and the whole court believes that we have already been at work and -racked our brains: there is no light to be seen earlier than that which -burns in our window.--Hark! Was that not the bell? The devil! The day -and the dance commence, and we do not know our rounds! We must then -improvise,--all the world improvises its day. To-day, let us for once -do like all the world!--And therewith vanished my wonderful morning -dream, probably owing to the violent strokes of the tower-clock, which -just then announced the fifth hour with all the importance which is -peculiar to it. It seems to me that on this occasion the God of dreams -wanted to make merry over my habits,--it is my habit to commence the -day by arranging it properly, to make it endurable _for myself_ and it -is possible that I may often have done this too formally, and too much -like a prince. - - -23. - -_The Characteristics of Corruption._--Let us observe the following -characteristics in that condition of society from time to time -necessary, which is designated by the word "corruption." Immediately -upon the appearance of corruption anywhere, a motley _superstition_ -gets the upper hand, and the hitherto universal belief of a people -becomes colourless and impotent in comparison with it; for superstition -is free-thinking of the second rank,--he who gives himself over -to it selects certain forms and formulæ which appeal, to him, and -permits himself a right of choice. The superstitious man is always -much more of a "person," in comparison with the religious man, and a -superstitious society will be one in which there are many individuals, -and a delight in individuality. Seen from this standpoint superstition -always appears as a _progress_ in comparison with belief, and as a -sign that the intellect becomes more independent and claims to have -its rights. Those who reverence the old religion and the religious -disposition then complain of corruption,--they have hitherto also -determined the usage of language, and have given a bad repute to -superstition, even among the freest spirits. Let us learn that it is a -symptom of _enlightenment._--Secondly, a society in which corruption -takes a hold is blamed for _effeminacy:_ for the appreciation of war, -and the delight in war, perceptibly diminish in such a society, and -the conveniences of life are now just as eagerly sought after as were -military and gymnastic honours formerly. But one is accustomed to -overlook the fact that the old national energy and national passion, -which acquired a magnificent splendour in war and in the tourney, has -now transferred itself into innumerable private passions, and has -merely become less visible; indeed in periods of "corruption" the -quantity and quality of the expended energy of a people is probably -greater than ever, and the individual spends it lavishly, to such an -extent as could not be done formerly--he was not then rich enough to do -so! And thus it is precisely in times of "effeminacy" that tragedy runs -at large in and out of doors, it is then that ardent love and ardent -hatred are born, and the flame of knowledge flashes heavenward in full -blaze.--Thirdly, as if in amends for the reproach of superstition -and effeminacy, it is customary to say of such periods of corruption -that they are milder, and that cruelty has then greatly diminished in -comparison with the older, more credulous, and stronger period. But to -this praise I am just as little able to assent as to that reproach: I -only grant so much--namely, that cruelty now becomes more refined, and -its older forms are henceforth counter to the taste; but the wounding -and torturing by word and look reaches its highest development in times -of corruption,--it is now only that _wickedness_ is created, and the -delight in wickedness. The men of the period of corruption are witty -and calumnious; they know that there are yet other ways of murdering -than by the dagger and the ambush--they know also that all that is -_well said_ is believed in.--Fourthly, it is when "morals decay" that -those beings whom one calls tyrants first make their appearance; they -are the forerunners of the _individual,_ and as it were early matured -_firstlings._ Yet a little while, and this fruit of fruits hangs ripe -and yellow on the tree of a people,--and only for the sake of such -fruit did this tree exist! When the decay has reached its worst, and -likewise the conflict of all sorts of tyrants, there always arises the -Cæsar, the final tyrant, who puts an end to the exhausted struggle for -sovereignty, by making the exhaustedness work for him. In his time -the individual is usually most mature, and consequently the "culture" -is highest and most fruitful, but not on his account nor through him: -although the men of highest culture love to flatter their Cæsar by -pretending that they are _his_ creation. The truth, however, is that -they need quietness externally, because they have disquietude and -labour internally. In these times bribery and treason are at their -height: for the love of the _ego,_ then first discovered, is much more -powerful than the love of the old, used-up, hackneyed "father-land"; -and the need to be secure in one way or other against the frightful -fluctuations of fortune, opens even the nobler hands, as soon as a -richer and more powerful person shows himself ready to put gold into -them. There is then so little certainty with regard to the future; -people live only for the day: a psychical condition which enables every -deceiver to play an easy game,--people of course only let themselves -be misled and bribed "for the present," and reserve for themselves -futurity and virtue. The individuals, as is well known, the men who -only live for themselves, provide for the moment more than do their -opposites, the gregarious men, because they consider themselves just -as incalculable as the future; and similarly they attach themselves -willingly--to despots, because they believe themselves capable of -activities and expedients, which can neither reckon on being understood -by the multitude, nor on finding favour with them--but the tyrant -or the Cæsar understands the rights of the individual even in his -excesses, and has an interest in speaking on behalf of a bolder private -morality, and even in giving his hand to it For he thinks of himself, -and wishes people to think of him what Napoleon once uttered in his -classical style--"I have the right to answer by an eternal 'thus I am' -to everything about which complaint is brought against me. I am apart -from all the world, I accept conditions from nobody. I wish people -also to submit to my fancies, and to take it quite as a simple matter, -if I should indulge in this or that diversion." Thus spoke Napoleon -once to his wife, when she had reasons for calling in question the -fidelity of her husband. The times of corruption are the seasons when -the apples fall from the tree: I mean the individuals, the seed-bearers -of the future, the pioneers of spiritual colonisation, and of a new -construction of national and social unions. Corruption is only an -abusive term for the _harvest time_ of a people. - - -24. - -_Different Dissatisfactions.--_The feeble and as it were feminine -dissatisfied people, have ingenuity for beautifying and deepening life; -the strong dissatisfied people--the masculine persons among them to -continue the metaphor--have ingenuity for improving and safeguarding -life. The former show their weakness and feminine character by -willingly letting themselves be temporarily deceived, and perhaps -even by putting up with a little ecstasy and enthusiasm on a time, -but on the whole they are never to be satisfied, and suffer from the -incurability of their dissatisfaction; moreover they are the patrons -of all those who manage to concoct opiate and narcotic comforts, -and on that account are averse to those who value the physician -higher than the priest,--they thereby encourage the _continuance_ -of actual distress! If there had not been a surplus of dissatisfied -persons of this kind in Europe since the time of the Middle Ages, -the remarkable capacity of Europeans for constant _transformation_ -would perhaps not have originated at all; for the claims of the -strong dissatisfied persons are too gross, and really too modest to -resist being finally quieted down. China is an instance of a country -in which dissatisfaction on a grand scale and the capacity for -transformation have died out for many centuries; and the Socialists -and state-idolaters of Europe could easily bring things to Chinese -conditions and to a Chinese "happiness," with their measures for the -amelioration and security of life, provided that they could first of -all root out the sicklier, tenderer, more feminine dissatisfaction -and Romanticism which are still very abundant among us. Europe is an -invalid who owes her best thanks to her incurability and the eternal -transformations of her sufferings; these constant new situations, -these equally constant new dangers, pains, and make-shifts, have at -last generated an intellectual sensitiveness which is almost equal to -genius, and is in any case the mother of all genius. - - -25. - -_Not Pre-ordained to Knowledge._--There is a pur-blind humility not -at all rare, and when a person is afflicted with it, he is once for -all disqualified for being a disciple of knowledge. It is this in -fact: the moment a man of this kind perceives anything striking, he -turns as it were on his heel and says to himself: "You have deceived -yourself! Where have your wits been! This cannot be the truth!"--and -then, instead of looking at it and listening to it with more attention, -he runs out of the way of the striking object as if intimidated, -and seeks to get it out of his head as quickly as possible. For his -fundamental rule runs thus: "I want to see nothing that contradicts -the usual opinion concerning things! Am _I_ created for the purpose of -discovering new truths? There are already too many of the old ones." - - -26. - -_What is Living?_--Living--that is to continually eliminate from -ourselves what is about to die; Living--that is to be cruel and -inexorable towards all that becomes weak and old in ourselves and -not only in ourselves. Living--that means, there fore to be without -piety toward the dying, the wrenched and the old? To be continually a -murderer?--And yet old Moses said: "Thou shalt not kill!" - - -27. - -_The Self-Renouncer._--What does the self-renouncer do? He strives -after a higher world, he wants to fly longer and further and higher -than all men of affirmation--he _throws away many things_ that -would impede his flight, and several things among them that are not -valueless, that are not unpleasant to him: he sacrifices them to his -desire for elevation. Now this sacrificing, this casting away, is the -very thing which becomes visible in him: on that account one calls him -a self-renouncer, and as such he stands before us, enveloped in his -cowl, and as the soul of a hair-shirt. With this effect, however, which -he makes upon us he is well content: he wants to keep concealed from us -his desire, his pride, his intention of flying _above_ us.--Yes! He is -wiser than we thought, and so courteous towards us--this affirmer! For -that is what he is, like us, even in his self-renunciation. - - -28. - -_Injuring with ones best Qualities._--Out strong points sometimes drive -us so far forward that we cannot any longer endure our weaknesses, -and we perish by them: we also perhaps see this result beforehand, -but nevertheless do not want it to be otherwise. We then become hard -towards that which would fain be spared in us, and our pitilessness is -also our greatness. Such an experience, which must in the end cost us -our Hie, is a symbol of the collective effect of great men upon others -and upon their epoch:--it is just with their best abilities, with -that which only _they_ can do, that they destroy much that is weak, -uncertain, evolving, and _willing,_ and are thereby injurious. Indeed, -the case may happen in which, taken on the whole, they only do injury, -because their best is accepted and drunk up as it were solely by those -who lose their understanding and their egoism by it, as by too strong a -beverage; they become so intoxicated that they go breaking their limbs -on all the wrong roads where their drunkenness drives them. - - -29. - -_Adventitious Liars._--When people began to combat the unity of -Aristotle in France, and consequently also to defend it, there was -once more to be seen that which has been seen so often, but seen -so unwillingly:--_people imposed false reasons on themselves_ on -account of which those laws ought to exist, merely for the sake of -not acknowledging to themselves that they had _accustomed_ themselves -to the authority of those laws, and did not want any longer to have -things otherwise. And people do so in every prevailing morality and -religion, and have always done so: the reasons and intentions behind -the habit, are only added surreptitiously when people begin to combat -the habit, and _ask_ for reasons and intentions. It is here that the -great dishonesty of the conservatives of all times hides:--they are -adventitious liars. - - -30. - -_The Comedy of Celebrated Men.--_Celebrated men who _need_ their fame, -as, for instance, all politicians, no longer select their associates -and friends without fore-thought: from the one they want a portion -of the splendour and reflection of his virtues; from the other they -want the fear-inspiring power of certain dubious qualities in him, of -which everybody is aware; from another they steal his reputation for -idleness and basking in the sun, because it is advantageous for their -own ends to be regarded temporarily as heedless and lazy:--it conceals -the fact that they lie in ambush; they now use the visionaries, now -the experts, now the brooders, now the pedants in their neighbourhood, -as their actual selves for the time; but very soon they do not need -them any longer! And thus while their environment and outside die off -continually, everything seems to crowd into this environment, and -wants to become a "character" of it; they are like great cities in -this respect. Their repute is continually in process of mutation, like -their character, for their changing methods require this change, and -they show and _exhibit_ sometimes this and sometimes that actual or -fictitious quality on the stage; their friends and associates, as we -have said, belong to these stage properties. On the other hand, that -which they aim at must remain so much the more steadfast, and burnished -and resplendent in the distance,--and this also sometimes needs its -comedy and its stage-play. - - -31. - -_Commerce and Nobility._--Buying and selling is now regarded as -something ordinary, like the art of reading and writing; everyone is -now trained to it even when he is not a tradesman exercising himself -daily in the art; precisely as formerly in the period of uncivilised -humanity, everyone was a hunter and exercised himself day by day in the -art of hunting. Hunting was then something common: but just as this -finally became a privilege of the powerful and noble, and thereby lost -the character of the commonplace and the ordinary--by ceasing to be -necessary and by becoming an affair of fancy and luxury,--so it might -become the same some day with buying and selling. Conditions of society -are imaginable in which there will be no selling and buying, and in -which the necessity for this art will become quite lost; perhaps it -may then happen that individuals who are less subjected to the law of -the prevailing condition of things will indulge in buying and selling -as a _luxury of sentiment. _ It is then only that commerce would -acquire nobility, and the noble would then perhaps occupy themselves -just as readily with commerce as they have done hitherto with war and -politics: while on the other hand the valuation of politics might then -have entirely altered. Already even politics ceases to be the business -of a gentleman; and it is possible that one day it may be found to -be so vulgar as to be brought, like all party literature and daily -literature, under the rubric: "Prostitution of the intellect." - - -32. - -_Undesirable Disciples._--What shall I do with these two youths! called -out a philosopher dejectedly, who "corrupted" youths, as Socrates had -once corrupted them,--they are unwelcome disciples to me. One of them -cannot say "Nay," and the other says "Half and half" to everything. -Provided they grasped my doctrine, the former would _suffer_ too much, -for my mode of thinking requires a martial soul, willingness to cause -pain, delight in denying, and a hard skin,--he would succumb by open -wounds and internal injuries. And the other will choose the mediocre in -everything he represents, and thus make a mediocrity of the whole,--I -should like my enemy to have such a disciple. - - -33. - -_Outside the Lecture-room._--"In order to prove that man after all -belongs to the good-natured animals, I would remind you how credulous -he has been for so long a time. It is now only, quite late, and -after an immense self-conquest, that he has become a _distrustful_ -animal,--yes! man is now more wicked than ever."--I do not understand -this; why should man now be more distrustful and more wicked?--"Because -now he has science,--because he needs to have it!"-- - - -34. - -_Historia abscondita._--Every great man has a power which operates -backward; all history is again placed on the scales on his -account, and a thousand secrets of the past crawl out of their -lurking-places--into _his_ sunlight. There is absolutely no knowing -what history may be some day. The past is still perhaps undiscovered in -its essence! There is yet so much reinterpreting ability needed! - - -35. - -_Heresy and Witchcraft._--To think otherwise than is customary--that is -by no means so much the activity of a better intellect, as the activity -of strong, wicked inclinations,--severing, isolating, refractory, -mischief-loving, malicious inclinations. Heresy is the counterpart of -witchcraft, and is certainly just as little a merely harmless affair, -or a thing worthy of honour in itself. Heretics and sorcerers are two -kinds of bad men; they have it in common that they also feel themselves -wicked; their unconquerable delight is to attack and injure whatever -rules,--whether it be men or opinions. The Reformation, a kind of -duplication of the spirit of the Middle Ages at a time when it had no -longer a good conscience, produced both of these kinds of people in the -greatest profusion. - - -36. - -_Last Words._-It will be recollected that the Emperor Augustus, that -terrible man, who had himself as much in his own power and could be -silent as well as any wise Socrates, became indiscreet about himself in -his last words; for the first time he let his mask fall, when he gave -to understand that he had carried a mask and played a comedy,--he had -played the father of his country and wisdom on the throne well, even to -the point of illusion! _Plaudite amid, comœdia finita est!--_The -thought of the dying Nero: _qualis artifex pereo!_ was also the thought -of the dying Augustus: histrionic conceit! histrionic loquacity! -And the very counterpart to the dying Socrates!--But Tiberius died -silently, that most tortured of all self-torturers,--_he_ was _genuine_ -and not a stage-player! What may have passed through his head in the -end! Perhaps this: "Life--that is a long death. I am a fool, who -shortened the lives of so many! Was _I_ created for the purpose of -being a benefactor? I should have given them eternal life: and then I -could have _seen them dying_ eternally. I had such good eyes _for that: -qualis spectator pereo!_" When he seemed once more to regain his powers -after a long death-struggle, it was considered advisable to smother him -with pillows,--he died a double death. - - -37. - -_Owing to three Errors._--Science has been furthered during recent -centuries, partly because it was hoped that God's goodness and wisdom -would be best understood therewith and thereby--the principal motive in -the soul of great Englishmen (like Newton); partly because the absolute -utility of knowledge was believed in, and especially the most intimate -connection of morality, knowledge, and happiness--the principal motive -in the soul of great Frenchmen (like Voltaire); and partly because it -was thought that in science there was something unselfish, harmless, -self-sufficing, lovable, and truly innocent to be had, in which the -evil human impulses did not at all participate--the principal motive in -the soul of Spinoza, who felt himself divine, as a knowing being:--it -is consequently owing to three errors that science has been furthered. - - -38. - -_Explosive People._--When one considers how ready are the forces of -young men for discharge, one does not wonder at seeing them decide -so uncritically and with so little selection for this or that cause: -_that_ which attracts them is the sight of eagerness for a cause, as -it were the sight of the burning match--not the cause itself. The more -ingenious seducers on that account operate by holding out the prospect -of an explosion to such persons, and do not urge their cause by means -of reasons; these powder-barrels are not won over by means of reasons! - - -39. - -_Altered Taste._--The alteration of the general taste is more important -than the alteration of opinions; opinions, with all their proving, -refuting, and intellectual masquerade, are merely symptoms of altered -taste, and are certainly _not_ what they are still so often claimed to -be, the causes of the altered taste. How does the general taste alter? -By the fact of individuals, the powerful and influential persons, -expressing and tyrannically enforcing without any feeling of shame, -_their hoc est ridiculum, hoc est absurdum;_ the decisions, therefore, -of their taste and their disrelish:--they thereby lay a constraint upon -many people, out of which there gradually grows a habituation for still -more, and finally a _necessity for all._ The fact, however, that these -individuals feel and "taste" differently, has usually its origin in a -peculiarity of their mode of life, nourishment, or digestion, perhaps -in a surplus or deficiency of the inorganic salts in their blood and -brain, in short in their _physis;_ they have, however, the courage to -avow their physical constitution, and to lend an ear even to the most -delicate tones of its requirements: their æsthetic and moral judgments -are those "most delicate tones" of their _physis._ - - -40. - -_The Lack of a noble Presence._--Soldiers and their leaders have always -a much higher mode of comportment toward one another than workmen -and their employers. At present at least, all militarily established -civilisation still stands high above all so-called industrial -civilisation; the latter, in its present form, is in general the -meanest mode of existence that has ever been. It is simply the law -of necessity that operates here: people want to live, and have to -sell themselves; but they despise him who exploits their necessity -and _purchases_ the workman. It is curious that the subjection to -powerful, fear-inspiring, and even dreadful individuals, to tyrants and -leaders of armies, is not at all felt so painfully as the subjection -to such undistinguished and uninteresting persons as the captains of -industry; in the employer the workman usually sees merely a crafty, -blood-sucking dog of a man, speculating on every necessity, whose name, -form, character, and reputation are altogether indifferent to him. -It is probable that the manufacturers and great magnates of commerce -have hitherto lacked too much all those forms and attributes of a -_superior race,_ which alone make persons interesting; if they had -had the nobility of the nobly-born in their looks and bearing, there -would perhaps have been no socialism in the masses of the people. For -these are really ready for _slavery_ of every kind, provided that -the superior class above them constantly shows itself legitimately -superior, and _born_ to command--by its noble presence! The commonest -man feels that nobility is not to be improvised, and that it is his -part to honour it as the fruit of protracted race-culture,--but -the absence of superior presence, and the notorious vulgarity of -manufacturers with red, fat hands, brings up the thought to him that -it is only chance and fortune that has here elevated the one above the -other; well then--so he reasons with himself--let _us_ in our turn -tempt chance and fortune! Let us in our turn throw the dice!--and -socialism commences. - - -41. - -_Against Remorse.--_The thinker sees in his own actions attempts and -questionings to obtain information about something or other; success -and failure are _answers_ to him first and foremost. To vex himself, -however, because something does not succeed, or to feel remorse at -all--he leaves that to those who act because they are commanded to -do so, and expect to get a beating when their gracious master is not -satisfied with the result. - - -42. - -_Work and Ennui_--In respect to seeking work for the sake of the pay, -almost all men are alike at present in civilised countries; to all of -them work is a means, and not itself the end; on which account they -are not very select in the choice of the work, provided it yields -an abundant profit. But still there are rarer men who would rather -perish than work without _delight_ in their labour: the fastidious -people, difficult to satisfy, whose object is not served by an abundant -profit, unless the work itself be the reward of all rewards. Artists -and contemplative men of all kinds belong to this rare species of -human beings; and also the idlers who spend their life in hunting and -travelling, or in love-affairs and adventures. They all seek toil and -trouble in so far as these are associated with pleasure, and they want -the severest and hardest labour, if it be necessary. In other respects, -however, they have a resolute indolence, even should impoverishment, -dishonour, and danger to health and life be associated therewith. -They are not so much afraid of ennui as of labour without pleasure; -indeed they require much ennui, if _their_ work is to succeed with -them. For the thinker and for all inventive spirits ennui is the -unpleasant "calm" of the soul which precedes the happy voyage and -the dancing breezes; he must endure it, he must _await_ the effect it -has on him:--it is precisely _this_ which lesser natures cannot at -all experience! It is common to scare away ennui in every way, just -as it is common to labour without pleasure. It perhaps distinguishes -the Asiatics above the Europeans, that they are capable of a longer -and profounder repose; even their narcotics operate slowly and require -patience, in contrast to the obnoxious suddenness of the European -poison, alcohol. - - -43. - -_What the Laws Betray._--One makes a great mistake when one studies -the penal laws of a people, as if they were an expression of its -character; the laws do not betray what a people is, but what appears -to them foreign, strange, monstrous, and outlandish. The laws concern -themselves with the exceptions to the morality of custom; and the -severest punishments fall on acts which conform to the customs of the -neighbouring peoples. Thus among the Wahabites, there are only two -mortal sins: having another God than the Wahabite God, and--smoking -(it is designated by them as "the disgraceful kind of drinking"). "And -how is it with regard to murder and adultery?"-asked the Englishman -with astonishment on learning these things. "Well, God is gracious -and pitiful!" answered the old chief.--Thus among the ancient Romans -there was the idea that a woman could only sin mortally in two ways: by -adultery on the one hand, and--by wine-drinking on the other. Old Cato -pretended that kissing among relatives had only been made a custom in -order to keep women in control on this point; a kiss meant: did her -breath smell of wine? Wives had actually been punished by death who -were surprised taking wine: and certainly not merely because women -under the influence of wine sometimes unlearn altogether the art of -saying No; the Romans were afraid above all things of the orgiastic and -Dionysian spirit with which the women of Southern Europe at that time -(when wine was still new in Europe) were sometimes visited, as by a -monstrous foreignness which subverted the basis of Roman sentiments; it -seemed to them treason against Rome, as the embodiment of foreignness. - - -44. - -_The Believed Motive._--However important it may be to know the motives -according to which mankind has really acted hitherto, perhaps the -_belief_ in this or that motive, and therefore that which mankind -has assumed and imagined to be the actual mainspring of its activity -hitherto, is something still more essential for the thinker to know. -For the internal happiness and misery of men have always come to them -through their belief in this or that motive,--_not_ however, through -that which was actually the motive! All about the latter has an -interest of secondary rank. - - -45. - -_Epicurus._--Yes, I am proud of perceiving the character of Epicurus -differently from anyone else perhaps, and of enjoying the happiness -of the afternoon of antiquity in all that I hear and read of him:--I -see his eye gazing out on a broad whitish sea, over the shore-rocks -on which the sunshine rests, while great and small creatures play -in its light, secure and calm like this light and that eye itself. -Such happiness could only have been devised by a chronic sufferer, -the happiness of an eye before which the sea of existence has become -calm, and which can no longer tire of gazing at the surface and at the -variegated, tender, tremulous skin of this sea. Never previously was -there such a moderation of voluptuousness. - - -46. - -_Our Astonishment--_There is a profound and fundamental satisfaction -in the fact that science ascertains things that _hold their ground,_ -and again furnish the basis for new researches:--it could certainly be -otherwise. Indeed, we are so much convinced of all the uncertainty and -caprice of our judgments, and of the everlasting change of all human -laws and conceptions, that we are really astonished _how persistently_ -the results of science hold their ground! In earlier times people -knew nothing of this changeability of all human things; the custom of -morality maintained the belief that the whole inner life of man was -bound to iron necessity by eternal fetters:--perhaps people then felt a -similar voluptuousness of astonishment when they listened to tales and -fairy stories. The wonderful did so much good to those men, who might -well get tired sometimes of the regular and the eternal. To leave the -ground for once! To soar! To stray! To be mad!--that belonged to the -paradise and the revelry of earlier times; while our felicity is like -that of the shipwrecked man who has gone ashore, and places himself -with both feet on the old, firm ground--in astonishment that it does -not rock. - - -47. - -_The Suppression of the Passions._--When one continually prohibits -the expression of the passions as something to be left to the -"vulgar," to coarser, bourgeois, and peasant natures--that is, when -one does not want to suppress the passions themselves, but only their -language and demeanour, one nevertheless realises _therewith_ just -what one does not want: the suppression of the passions themselves, -or at least their weakening and alteration,--as the court of Louis -XIV. (to cite the most instructive instance), and all that was -dependent on it, experienced. The generation _that followed,_ trained -in suppressing their expression, no longer possessed the passions -themselves, but had a pleasant, superficial, playful disposition in -their place,--a generation which was so permeated with the incapacity -to be ill-mannered, that even an injury was not taken and retaliated, -except with courteous words. Perhaps our own time furnishes the most -remarkable counterpart to this period: I see everywhere (in life, in -the theatre, and not least in all that is written) satisfaction at all -the _coarser_ outbursts and gestures of passion; a certain convention -of passionateness is now desired,--only not the passion itself! -Nevertheless _it_ will thereby be at last reached, and our posterity -will have a _genuine savagery,_ and not merely a formal savagery and -unmannerliness. - - -48. - -_Knowledge of Distress.--_Perhaps there is nothing by which men and -periods are so much separated from one another, as by the different -degrees of knowledge of distress which they possess; distress of the -soul as well as of the body. With respect to the latter, owing to lack -of sufficient self-experience, we men of the present day (in spite of -our deficiencies and infirmities), are perhaps all of us blunderers and -visionaries in comparison with the men of the age of fear--the longest -of all ages,--when the individual had to protect himself against -violence, and for that purpose had to be a man of violence himself. At -that time a man went through a long schooling of corporeal tortures and -privations, and found even in a certain kind of cruelty toward himself, -in a voluntary use of pain, a necessary means for his preservation; -at that time a person trained his environment to the endurance of -pain; at that time a person willingly inflicted pain, and saw the most -frightful things of this kind happen to others without having any -other feeling than for his own security. As regards the distress of -the soul however, I now look at every man with respect to whether he -knows it by experience or by description; whether he still regards it -as necessary to simulate this knowledge, perhaps as an indication of -more refined culture; or whether, at the bottom of his heart, he does -not at all believe in great sorrows of soul, and at the naming of them -calls to mind a similar experience as at the naming of great corporeal -sufferings, such as tooth-aches, and stomach-aches. It is thus, -however, that it seems to be with most people at present. Owing to -the universal inexperience of both kinds of pain, and the comparative -rarity of the spectacle of a sufferer, an important consequence -results: people now hate pain far more than earlier man did, and -calumniate it worse than ever; indeed people nowadays can hardly endure -the _thought_ of pain, and make out of it an affair of conscience and -a reproach to collective existence. The appearance of pessimistic -philosophies is not at all the sign of great and dreadful miseries; for -these interrogative marks regarding the worth of life appear in periods -when the refinement and alleviation of existence already deem the -unavoidable gnat-stings of the soul and body as altogether too bloody -and wicked; and in the poverty of actual experiences of pain, would now -like to make _painful general ideas_ appear as suffering of the worst -kind.--There might indeed be a remedy for pessimistic philosophies and -the excessive sensibility which seems to me the real "distress of the -present":--but perhaps this remedy already sounds too cruel, and would -itself be reckoned among the symptoms owing to which people at present -conclude that "existence is something evil." Well! the remedy for "the -distress" is _distress._ - - -49. - -_Magnanimity and allied Qualities.--_Those paradoxical phenomena, -such as the sudden coldness in the demeanour of good-natured men, the -humour of the melancholy, and above all _magnanimity,_ as a sudden -renunciation of revenge or of the gratification of envy--appear -in men in whom there is a powerful inner impulsiveness, in men of -sudden satiety and sudden disgust. Their satisfactions are so rapid -and violent that satiety, aversion and flight into the antithetical -taste, immediately follow upon them: in this contrast the convulsion -of feeling liberates itself, in one person by sudden coldness, in -another by laughter, and in a third by tear and self-sacrifice. The -magnanimous person appears to me--at least that kind of magnanimous -person who has always made most impression--as a man with the strongest -thirst for vengeance, to whom a gratification presents itself close at -hand, and who _already_ drinks it off _in imagination_ so copiously, -thoroughly, and to the last drop, that an excessive, rapid disgust -follows this rapid licentiousness;--he now elevates himself "above -himself," as one says, and forgives his enemy, yea, blesses and honours -him. With this violence done to himself, however, with this mockery -of his impulse to revenge, even still so powerful he merely yields -to the new impulse, the disgust which has become powerful, and does -this just as impatiently and licentiously, as a short time previously -he _forestalled,_ and as it were exhausted, the joy of revenge with -his fantasy. In magnanimity there is the same amount of egoism as in -revenge, but a different quality of egoism. - - -50. - -_The Argument of Isolation._--The reproach of conscience, even in the -most conscientious, is weak against the feeling: "This and that are -contrary to the good morals of _your_ society." A cold glance or a -wry mouth on the part of those among whom and for whom one has been -educated, is still _feared_ even by the strongest. What is really -feared there? Isolation! as the argument which demolishes even the -best arguments for a person or cause!--It is thus that the gregarious -instinct speaks in us. - - -51. - -_Sense for Truth.--_Commend me to all scepticism where I am permitted -to answer: "Let us put it to the test!" But I don't wish to hear -anything more of things and questions which do not admit of being -tested. That is the limit of my "sense for truth": for bravery has -there lost its right. - - -52. - -_What others Know of us.--_That which we know of ourselves and have -in our memory is not so decisive for the happiness of our life as is -generally believed. One day it flashes upon our mind what _others_ know -of us (or think they know)--and then we acknowledge that it is the more -powerful. We get on with our bad conscience more easily than with our -bad reputation. - - -53. - -_Where Goodness Begins.--_Where bad eyesight can no longer see the evil -impulse as such, on account of its refinement,--there man sets up the -kingdom of goodness; and the feeling of having now gone over into the -kingdom of goodness brings all those impulses (such as the feelings -of security, of comfortableness, of benevolence) into simultaneous -activity, which were threatened and confined by the evil impulses. -Consequently, the duller the eye so much the further does goodness -extend! Hence the eternal cheerfulness of the populace and of children! -Hence the gloominess and grief (allied to the bad conscience) of great -thinkers. - - -54. - -_The Consciousness of Appearance.--_How wonderfully and novelly, and -at the same time how awfully and ironically, do I feel myself situated -with respect to collective existence, with my knowledge! I have -_discovered_ for myself that the old humanity and animality, yea, the -collective primeval age, and the past of all sentient being, continues -to meditate, love, hate, and reason in me,--I have suddenly awoke in -the midst of this dream, but merely to the consciousness that I just -dream, and that I _must_ dream on in order not to perish; just as -the sleep-walker must dream on in order not to tumble down. What is -it that is now "appearance" to me! Verily, not the antithesis of any -kind of essence,--what knowledge can I assert of any kind of essence -whatsoever, except merely the predicates of its appearance! Verily -not a dead mask which one could put upon an unknown X, and which to -be sure one could also remove! Appearance is for me the operating -and living thing itself; which goes so far in its self-mockery as to -make me feel that here there is appearance, and Will o' the Wisp, and -spirit-dance, and nothing more,--that among all these dreamers, I -also, the "thinker," dance my dance, that the thinker is a means of -prolonging further the terrestrial dance, and in so far is one of the -masters of ceremony of existence, and that the sublime consistency -and connectedness of all branches of knowledge is perhaps, and will -perhaps, be the best means for _maintaining_ the universality of the -dreaming, the complete, mutual understandability of all those dreamers, -and thereby _the duration of the dream_. - - -55. - -_The Ultimate Nobility of Character._--What then makes a person -"noble"? Certainly not that he makes sacrifices; even the frantic -libertine makes sacrifices. Certainly not that he generally follows -his passions; there are contemptible passions. Certainly not that -he does something for others, and without selfishness; perhaps the -effect of selfishness is precisely at its greatest in the noblest -persons.--But that the passion which seizes the noble man is a -peculiarity, without his knowing that it is so: the use of a rare -and singular measuring-rod, almost a frenzy: the feeling of heat in -things which feel cold to all other persons: a divining of values -for which scales have not yet been invented: a sacrificing on altars -which are consecrated to an unknown God: a bravery without the desire -for honour: a self-sufficiency which has superabundance, and imparts -to men and things. Hitherto, therefore, it has been the rare in man, -and the unconsciousness of this rareness, that has made men noble. -Here, however, let us consider that everything ordinary, immediate, -and indispensable, in short, what has been most preservative of the -species, and generally the _rule_ in mankind hitherto, has been judged -unreasonable and calumniated in its entirety by this standard, in -favour of the exceptions. To become the advocate of the rule--that -may perhaps be: the ultimate form and refinement in which nobility of -character will reveal itself on earth. - - -56. - -_The Desire for Suffering._--When I think of the desire to do -something, how it continually tickles and stimulates millions of -young Europeans, who cannot endure themselves and all their ennui,--I -conceive that there must be a desire in them to suffer something, -in order to derive from their suffering a worthy motive for acting, -for doing something. Distress is necessary! Hence the cry of the -politicians, hence the many false trumped-up, exaggerated "states of -distress" of all possible kinds, and the blind readiness to believe in -them. This young world desires that there should arrive or appear _from -the outside--not_ happiness--but misfortune; and their imagination is -already busy beforehand to form a monster out of it, so that they may -afterwards be able to fight with a monster. If these distress-seekers -felt the power to benefit themselves, to do something for themselves -from internal sources, they would also understand how to create a -distress of their own, specially their own, from internal sources. -Their inventions might then be more refined, and their gratifications -might sound like good music: while at present they fill the world with -their cries of distress, and consequently too often with the _feeling -of distress_ in the first place! They do not know what to make of -themselves--and so they paint the misfortune of others on the wall; -they always need others! And always again other others!--Pardon me, my -friends, I have ventured to paint my _happiness_ on the wall. - - - - -BOOK SECOND - - -57. - -_To the Realists._--Ye sober beings, who feel yourselves armed against -passion and fantasy, and would gladly make a pride and an ornament out -of your emptiness, ye call yourselves realists, and give to understand -that the world is actually constituted as it appears to you; before -you alone reality stands unveiled, and ye yourselves would perhaps -be the best part of it,--oh, ye dear images of Sais! But are not ye -also in your unveiled condition still extremely passionate and dusky -beings compared with the fish, and still all too like an enamoured -artist?[1]--and what is "reality" to an enamoured artist! Ye still -carry about with you the valuations of things which had their origin -in the passions and infatuations of earlier centuries! There is still -a secret and ineffaceable drunkenness embodied in your sobriety! Your -love of "reality," for example--oh, that is an old, primitive "love"! -In every feeling, in every sense-impression, there is a portion of -this old love: and similarly also some kind of fantasy, prejudice, -irrationality, ignorance, fear, and whatever else has become mingled -and woven into it. There is that mountain! There is that cloud! What -is "real" in them? Remove the phantasm and the whole human _element_ -therefrom, ye sober ones! Yes, if ye could do _that!_ If ye could -forget your origin, your past, your preparatory schooling,--your whole -history as man and beast! There is no "reality" for us--nor for you -either, ye sober ones,--we are far from being so alien to one another -as ye suppose; and perhaps our good-will to get beyond drunkenness is -just as respectable as your belief that ye are altogether _incapable_ -of drunkenness. - - -[1] Schiller's poem, "The Veiled Image of Sais," is again referred to -here.--TR. - - -58. - -_Only as Creators!_--It has caused me the greatest trouble, and for -ever causes me the greatest trouble, to perceive that unspeakably more -depends upon _what things are called,_ than on what they are. The -reputation, the name and appearance, the importance, the usual measure -and weight of things--each being in origin most frequently an error and -arbitrariness thrown over the things like a garment, and quite alien -to their essence and even to their exterior--have gradually, by the -belief therein and its continuous growth from generation to generation, -grown as it were on-and-into things and become their very body; the -appearance at the very beginning becomes almost always the essence in -the end, and _operates_ as the essence! What a fool he would be who -would think it enough to refer here to this origin and this nebulous -veil of illusion, in order to _annihilate_ that which virtually passes -for the world--namely, so-called "reality"! It is only as creators -that we can annihilate!--But let us not forget this: it suffices to -create new names and valuations and probabilities, in order in the long -run to create new "things." - - -59. - -_We Artists!_--When we love a woman we have readily a hatred against -nature, on recollecting all the disagreeable natural functions to -which every woman is subject; we prefer not to think of them at all, -but if once our soul touches on these things it twitches impatiently, -and glances, as we have said, contemptuously at nature:--we are hurt; -nature seems to encroach upon our possessions, and with the profanest -hands. We then shut our ears against all physiology, and we decree in -secret that "we will hear nothing of the fact that man is something -else than _soul and form!"_ "The man under the skin" is an abomination -and monstrosity, a blasphemy of God and of love to all lovers.--Well, -just as the lover still feels with respect to nature and natural -functions, so did every worshipper of God and his "holy omnipotence" -feel formerly: in all that was said of nature by astronomers, -geologists, physiologists, and physicians, he saw an encroachment on -his most precious possession, and consequently an attack,--and moreover -also an impertinence of the assailant! The "law of nature" sounded to -him as blasphemy against God; in truth he would too willingly have -seen the whole of mechanics traced back to moral acts of volition and -arbitrariness:--but because nobody could render him this service, -he _concealed_ nature and mechanism from himself as best he could, -and lived in a dream. Oh, those men of former times understood how to -_dream,_ and did not need first to go to sleep!--and we men of the -present day also still understand it too well, with all our good-will -for wakefulness and daylight! It suffices to love, to hate, to desire, -and in general to feel _immediately_ the spirit and the power of the -dream come over us, and we ascend, with open eyes and indifferent -to all danger, the most dangerous paths, to the roofs and towers of -fantasy, and without any giddiness, as persons born for climbing--we -the night-walkers by day! We artists! We concealers of naturalness! We -moon-struck and God-struck ones! We death-silent, untiring wanderers -on heights which we do not see as heights, but as our plains, as our -places of safety! - - -60. - -_Women and their Effect in the Distance._--Have I still ears? Am I -only ear, and nothing else besides? Here I stand in the midst of the -surging of the breakers, whose white flames fork up to my feet;--from -all sides there is howling, threatening, crying, and screaming at me, -while in the lowest depths the old earth-shaker sings his aria hollow -like a roaring bull; he beats such an earth-shaker's measure thereto, -that even the hearts of these weathered rock-monsters tremble at the -sound. Then, suddenly, as if born out of nothingness, there appears -before the portal of this hellish labyrinth, only a few fathoms -distant,--a great sailing-ship gliding silently along like a ghost. Oh, -this ghostly beauty! With what enchantment it seizes me! What? Has all -the repose and silence in the world embarked here? Does my happiness -itself sit in this quiet place, my happier ego, my second immortalised -self? Still not dead, but also no longer living? As a ghost-like, -calm, gazing, gliding, sweeping, neutral being? Similar to the ship, -which, with its white sails, like an immense butterfly, passes over -the dark sea! Yes! Passing _over_ existence! That is it! That would be -it!--It seems that the noise here has made me a visionary? All great -noise causes one to place happiness in the calm and the distance. When -a man is in the midst of _his_ hubbub, in the midst of the breakers -of his plots and plans, he there sees perhaps calm, enchanting beings -glide past him, for whose happiness and retirement he longs--_they are -women._ He almost thinks that there with the women dwells his better -self; that in these calm places even the loudest breakers become still -as death, and life itself a dream of life. But still! but still! my -noble enthusiast, there is also in the most beautiful sailing-ship so -much noise and bustling, and alas, so much petty, pitiable bustling! -The enchantment and the most powerful effect of women is, to use -the language of philosophers, an effect at a distance, an _actio -in distans;_ there belongs thereto, however, primarily and above -all,--_distance!_ - - -6l. - -_In Honour of Friendship._--That the sentiment of friendship was -regarded by antiquity as the highest sentiment, higher even than the -most vaunted pride of the self-sufficient and wise, yea, as it were its -sole and still holier brotherhood, is very well expressed by the story -of the Macedonian king who made the present of a talent to a cynical -Athenian philosopher from whom he received it back again. "What?" -said the king, "has he then no friend?" He therewith meant to say, "I -honour this pride of the wise and independent man, but I should have -honoured his humanity still higher, if the friend in him had gained -the victory over his pride. The philosopher has lowered himself in my -estimation, for he showed that he did not know one of the two highest -sentiments--and in fact the higher of them!" - - -62. - -_Love.--_Love pardons even the passion of the beloved. - - -63. - -_Woman in Music--How_ does it happen that warm and rainy winds bring -the musical mood and the inventive delight in melody with them? Are -they not the same winds that fill the churches and give women amorous -thoughts? - - -64. - -_Sceptics._--I fear that women who have grown old are more sceptical in -the secret recesses of their hearts than any of the men; they believe -in the superficiality of existence as in its essence, and all virtue -and profundity is to them only the disguising of this "truth," the very -desirable disguising of a _pudendum,_--an affair, therefore, of decency -and modesty, and nothing more! - - -65. - -_Devotedness._--There are noble women with a certain poverty of spirit, -who, in order to _express_ their profoundest devotedness, have no other -alternative but to offer their virtue and modesty: it is the highest -thing they have. And this present is often accepted without putting the -recipient under such deep obligation as the giver supposed,--a very -melancholy story! - - -66. - -_The Strength of the Weak.--_Women are all skilful in exaggerating -their weaknesses, indeed they are inventive in weaknesses, so as to -seem quite fragile ornaments to which even a grain of dust does harm; -their existence is meant to bring home to man's mind his coarseness, -and to appeal to his conscience. They thus defend themselves against -the strong and all "rights of might." - - -67. - -_Self-dissembling._--She loves him now and has since been looking -forth with as quiet confidence as a cow; but alas! It was precisely -his delight that she seemed so fitful and absolutely incomprehensible! -He had rather too much steady weather in himself already! Would she -not do well to feign her old character? to feign indifference? Does -not--love itself advise her _to do so? Vivat comœdia!_ - - -68. - -_Will and Willingness._--Some one brought a youth to a wise man, -and said, "See, this is one who is being corrupted by women!" The -wise man shook his head and smiled. "It is men," he called out, "who -corrupt women; and everything that women lack should be atoned for -and improved in men--for man creates for himself the ideal of woman, -and woman moulds herself according to this ideal."--"You are too -tender-hearted towards women," said one of the bystanders, "you do not -know them!" The wise man answered: "Man's attribute is will, woman's -attribute is willingness--such is the law of the sexes, verily! a -hard law for woman! All human beings are innocent of their existence, -women, however, are doubly innocent; who could have enough of salve -and gentleness for them!"--"What about salve! What about gentleness!" -called out another person in the crowd, "we must educate women -better!"--"We must educate men better," said the wise man, and made a -sign to the youth to follow him.--The youth, however, did not follow -him. - - -69. - -_Capacity for Revenge--_That a person cannot and consequently will not -defend himself, does not yet cast disgrace upon him in our eyes; but -we despise the person who has neither the ability nor the good-will -for revenge--whether it be a man or a woman. Would a woman be able to -captivate us (or, as people say, to "fetter" us) whom we did not credit -with knowing how to employ the dagger (any kind of dagger) skilfully -_against us_ under certain circumstances? Or against herself; which in -a certain case might be the severest revenge (the Chinese revenge). - - -70. - -_The Mistresses of the Masters--_A powerful contralto voice, as -we occasionally hear it in the theatre, raises suddenly for us the -curtain on possibilities in which we usually do not believe; all at -once we are convinced that somewhere in the world there may be women -with high, heroic, royal souls, capable and prepared for magnificent -remonstrances, resolutions, and self-sacrifices, capable and prepared -for domination over men, because in them the best in man, superior to -sex, has become a corporeal ideal. To be sure, it is not the intention -of the theatre that such voices should give such a conception of women; -they are usually intended to represent the ideal male lover, for -example, a Romeo; but, to judge by my experience, the theatre regularly -miscalculates here, and the musician also, who expects such effects -from such a voice. People do not believe in _these_ lovers; these -voices still contain a tinge of the motherly and housewifely character, -and most of all when love is in their tone. - - -71. - -_On Female Chastity.--_There is something quite astonishing and -extraordinary in the education of women of the higher class; indeed, -there is perhaps nothing more paradoxical. All the world is agreed -to educate them with as much ignorance as possible _in eroticis,_ -and to inspire their soul with a profound shame of such things, and -the extremest impatience and horror at the suggestion of them. It is -really here only that all the "honour" of woman is at stake; what would -one not forgive them in other respects! But here they are intended -to remain ignorant to the very backbone:--they are intended to have -neither eyes, ears, words, nor thoughts for this, their "wickedness"; -indeed knowledge here is already evil. And then! To be hurled as with -an awful thunderbolt into reality and knowledge with marriage--and -indeed by him whom they most love and esteem: to have to encounter love -and shame in contradiction, yea, to have to feel rapture, abandonment, -duty, sympathy, and fright at the unexpected proximity of God and -animal, and whatever else besides! all at once!--There, in fact, a -psychic entanglement has been effected which is quite unequalled! -Even the sympathetic curiosity of the wisest discerner of men does -not suffice to divine how this or that woman gets along with the -solution of this enigma and the enigma of this solution; what dreadful, -far-reaching suspicions must awaken thereby in the poor unhinged soul; -and forsooth, how the ultimate philosophy and scepticism of the woman -casts anchor at this point!--Afterwards the same profound silence as -before and often even a silence to herself, a shutting of her eyes to -herself.--Young wives on that account make great efforts to appear -superficial and thoughtless the most ingenious of them simulate a kind -of impudence.--Wives easily feel their husbands as a question-mark to -their honour, and their children as an apology or atonement,--they -require children, and wish for them in quite another spirit than a -husband wishes for them.--In short, one cannot be gentle enough towards -women! - - -72. - -_Mothers._--Animals think differently from men with respect to females; -with them the female is regarded as the productive being. There is no -paternal love among them, but there is such a thing as love of the -children of a beloved, and habituation to them. In the young, the -females find gratification for their lust of dominion; the young are a -property, an occupation, something quite comprehensible to them, with -which they can chatter: all this conjointly is maternal love,--it is -to be compared to the love of the artist for his work. Pregnancy has -made the females gentler, more expectant, more timid, more submissively -inclined; and similarly intellectual pregnancy engenders the character -of the contemplative, who are allied to women in character:--they are -the masculine mothers.--Among animals the masculine sex is regarded as -the beautiful sex. - - -73. - -_Saintly Cruelty.--_A man holding a newly born child in his hands -came to a saint. "What should I do with this child," he asked, "it -is wretched, deformed, and has not even enough of life to die" "Kill -it," cried the saint with a dreadful voice, "kill it, and then hold -it in thy arms for three days and three nights to brand it on thy -memory:--thus wilt thou never again beget a child when it is not the -time for thee to beget."--When the man had heard this he went away -disappointed; and many found fault with the saint because he had -advised cruelty; for he had advised to kill the child. "But is it not -more cruel to let it live?" asked the saint. - - -74. - -_The Unsuccessful--_Those poor women always fail of success who become -agitated and uncertain, and talk too much in presence of him whom they -love; for men are most successfully seduced by a certain subtle and -phlegmatic tenderness. - - -75. - -_The Third Sex._--"A small man is a paradox, but still a man,--but -a small woman seems to me to be of another sex in comparison with -well-grown ones"--said an old dancing-master. A small woman is never -beautiful--said old Aristotle. - - -76. - -_The greatest Danger._--Had there not at all times been a larger -number of men who regarded the cultivation of their mind--their -"rationality"--as their pride, their obligation, their virtue, and were -injured or shamed by all play of fancy and extravagance of thinking--as -lovers of "sound common sense":--mankind would long ago have perished! -Incipient _insanity_ has hovered, and hovers continually over mankind -as its greatest danger: it is precisely the breaking out of inclination -in feeling, seeing, and hearing; the enjoyment of the unruliness of -the mind; the delight in human unreason. It is not truth and certainty -that is the antithesis of the world of the insane, but the universality -and all-obligatoriness of a belief, in short, non-voluntariness in -forming opinions. And the greatest labour of human beings hitherto has -been to agree with one another regarding a number of things, and to -impose upon themselves a _law of agreement_--indifferent whether these -things are true or false. This is the discipline of the mind which has -preserved mankind;--but the counter-impulses are still so powerful that -one can really speak of the future of mankind with little confidence. -The ideas of things still continually shift and move, and will perhaps -alter more than ever in the future; it is continually the most select -spirits themselves who strive against universal obligatoriness--the -investigators of _truth_ above all! The accepted belief, as the belief -of all the world, continually engenders a disgust and a new longing -in the more ingenious minds; and already the slow _tempo_ which it -demands for all intellectual processes (the imitation of the tortoise, -which is here recognised as the rule) makes the artists and poets -runaways:--it is in these impatient spirits that a downright delight -in delirium breaks out, because delirium has such a joyful _tempo!_ -Virtuous intellects, therefore, are needed--ah! I want to use the -least ambiguous word,--_virtuous stupidity_ is needed, imperturbable -conductors of the _slow_ spirits are needed, in order that the faithful -of the great collective belief may remain with one another and dance -their dance further: it is a necessity of the first importance that -here enjoins and demands. _We others are the exceptions and the -danger,_--we eternally need protection--Well, there can actually be -something said in favour of the exceptions _provided that they never -want to become the rule._ - - -77. - -_The Animal with good Conscience._--It is not unknown to me that there -is vulgarity in everything that pleases Southern Europe--whether it be -Italian opera (for example, Rossini's and Bellini's), or the Spanish -adventure-romance (most readily accessible to us in the French garb of -Gil Blas)--but it does not offend me, any more than the vulgarity which -one encounters in a walk through Pompeii, or even in the reading of -every ancient book: what is the reason of this? Is it because shame is -lacking here, and because the vulgar always comes forward just as sure -and certain of itself as anything noble, lovely, and passionate in the -same kind of music or romance? "The animal has its rights like man, so -let it run about freely; and you, my dear fellow-man, are still this -animal, in spite of all!"--that seems to me the moral of the case, and -the peculiarity of southern humanity. Bad taste has its rights like -good taste, and even a prerogative over the latter when it is the great -requisite, the sure satisfaction, and as it were a universal language, -an immediately intelligible mask and attitude; the excellent, select -taste on the other hand has always something of a seeking, tentative -character, not fully certain that it understands,--it is never, and -has never been popular! The _masque_ is and remains popular! So let -all this masquerade run along in the melodies and cadences, in the -leaps and merriment of the rhythm of these operas! Quite the ancient -life! What does one understand of it, if one does not understand the -delight in the masque, the good conscience of all masquerade! Here is -the bath and the refreshment of the ancient spirit:--and perhaps this -bath was still more necessary for the rare and sublime natures of the -ancient world than for the vulgar.--On the other hand, a vulgar turn in -northern works, for example in German music, offends me unutterably. -There is _shame_ in it, the artist has lowered himself in his own -sight, and could not even avoid blushing: we are ashamed with him, and -are so hurt because we surmise that he believed he had to lower himself -on our account. - - -78. - -_What we should be Grateful for.--_It is only the artists, and -especially the theatrical artists, who have furnished men with eyes -and ears to hear and see with some pleasure what everyone is in -himself, what he experiences and aims at: it is only _they_ who have -taught us how to estimate the hero that is concealed in each of these -common-place men, and the art of looking at ourselves from a distance -as heroes, and as it were simplified and transfigured--the art of -"putting ourselves on the stage" before ourselves. It is thus only that -we get beyond some of the paltry details in ourselves! Without that art -we should be nothing but foreground, and would live absolutely under -the spell of the perspective which makes the closest and the commonest -seem immensely large and like reality in itself.--Perhaps there is -merit of a similar kind in the religion which commanded us to look at -the sinfulness of every individual man with a magnifying-glass, and -made a great, immortal criminal of the sinner; in that it put eternal -perspectives around man, it taught him to see himself from a distance, -and as something past, something entire. - - -79. - -_The Charm of Imperfection.--_I see here a poet, who, like so many -men, exercises a higher charm by his imperfections than by all that -is rounded off and takes perfect shape under his hands,--indeed, -he derives his advantage and reputation far more from his actual -limitations than from his abundant powers. His work never expresses -altogether what he would really like to express, what he _would like -to have seen:_ he appears to have had the foretaste of a vision and -never the vision itself:--but an extraordinary longing for this -vision has remained in his soul; and from this he derives his equally -extraordinary eloquence of longing and craving. With this he raises -those who listen to him above his work and above all "works," and -gives them wings to rise higher than hearers have ever risen before, -thus making them poets and seers themselves; they then show an -admiration for the originator of their happiness, as if he had led them -immediately to the vision of his holiest and ultimate verities, as if -he had reached his goal, and had actually _seen_ and communicated his -vision. It is to the advantage of his reputation that he has not really -arrived at his goal. - - -80. - -_Art and Nature._--The Greeks (or at least the Athenians) liked to -hear good talking: indeed they had an eager inclination for it, which -distinguished them more than anything else from non-Greeks. And so they -required good talking even from passion on the stage, and submitted -to the unnaturalness of dramatic verse with delight:--in nature, -forsooth, passion is so sparing of words! so dumb and confused! Or if -it finds words, so embarrassed and irrational and a shame to itself! We -have now, all of us, thanks to the Greeks, accustomed ourselves to this -unnaturalness on the stage, as we endure that other unnaturalness, the -_singing_ passion, and willingly endure it, thanks to the Italians.--It -has become a necessity to us, which we cannot satisfy out of the -resources of actuality, to hear men talk well and in full detail in the -most trying situations: it enraptures us at present when the tragic -hero still finds words, reasons, eloquent gestures, and on the whole -a bright spirituality, where life approaches the abysses, and where -the actual man mostly loses his head, and certainly his fine language. -This kind of _deviation from nature_ is perhaps the most agreeable -repast for man's pride: he loves art generally on account of it, as the -expression of high, heroic unnaturalness and convention. One rightly -objects to the dramatic poet when he does not transform everything into -reason and speech, but always retains a remnant of _silence:_--just as -one is dissatisfied with an operatic musician who cannot find a melody -for the highest emotion, but only an emotional, "natural" stammering -and crying. Here nature _has to_ be contradicted! Here the common -charm of illusion _has to_ give place to a higher charm! The Greeks -go far, far in this direction--frightfully far! As they constructed -the stage as narrow as possible and dispensed with all the effect of -deep backgrounds, as they made pantomime and easy motion impossible -to the actor, and transformed him into a solemn, stiff, masked bogey, -so they have also deprived passion itself of its deep background, and -have dictated to it a law of fine talk; indeed, they have really done -everything to counteract the elementary effect of representations that -inspire pity and terror: _they did not want pity and terror,_--with due -deference, with the highest deference to Aristotle! but he certainly -did not hit the nail, to say nothing of the head of the nail, when -he spoke about the final aim of Greek tragedy! Let us but look at -the Grecian tragic poets with respect to _what_ most excited their -diligence, their inventiveness, and their emulation,--certainly it -was not the intention of subjugating the spectators by emotion! The -Athenian went to the theatre _to hear fine talking!_ And fine talking -was arrived at by Sophocles!--pardon me this heresy!--It is very -different with _serious opera:_ all its masters make it their business -to prevent their personages being understood. "An occasional word -picked up may come to the assistance of the inattentive listener; but -on the whole the situation must be self-explanatory,--the _talking_ is -of no account!"--so they all think, and so they have all made fun of -the words. Perhaps they have only lacked courage to express fully their -extreme contempt for words: a little additional insolence in Rossini, -and he would have allowed la-la-la-la to be sung throughout--and it -might have been the rational course! The personages of the opera are -_not_ meant to be believed "in their words," but in their tones! That -is the difference, that is the fine _unnaturalness_ on account of which -people go to the opera! Even the _recitativo secco_ is not really -intended to be heard as words and text: this kind of half-music is -meant rather in the first place to give the musical ear a little repose -(the repose from _melody,_ as from the sublimest, and on that account -the most straining enjoyment of this art),--but very soon something -different results, namely, an increasing impatience, an increasing -resistance, a new longing for _entire_ music, for melody.--How is it -with the art of Richard Wagner as seen from this standpoint? Is it -perhaps the same? Perhaps otherwise? It would often seem to me as if -one needed to have learned by heart both the words _and_ the music of -his creations before the performances; for without that--so it seemed -to me--me _may hear_ neither the words, nor even the music. - - -81. - -_Grecian Taste_--"What is beautiful in it?"--asked a certain -geometrician, after a performance of the _Iphigenia--_"there is nothing -proved in it!" Could the Greeks have been so far from this taste? In -Sophocles at least "everything is proved." - - -82. - -_Esprit Un-Grecian._--The Greeks were exceedingly logical and plain -in all their thinking; they did not get tired of it, at least during -their long flourishing period, as is so often the case with the French; -who too willingly made a little excursion into the opposite, and in -fact endure the spirit of logic only when it betrays its _sociable_ -courtesy, its sociable self-renunciation, by a multitude of such little -excursions into its opposite. Logic appears to them as necessary as -bread and water, but also like these as a kind of prison-fare, as -soon as it is to be taken pure and by itself. In good society one -must never want to be in the right absolutely and solely, as all pure -logic requires; hence the little dose of irrationality in all French -_esprit_.--The social sense of the Greeks was far less developed than -that of the French in the present and the past; hence, so little -_esprit_ in their cleverest men, hence, so little wit, even in their -wags, hence--alas! But people will not readily believe these tenets of -mine, and how much of the kind I have still on my soul!--_Est res magna -tacere_--says Martial, like all garrulous people. - - -83. - -_Translations._--One can estimate the amount of the historical sense -which an age possesses by the way in which it makes _translations_ and -seeks to embody in itself past periods and literatures. The French -of Corneille, and even the French of the Revolution, appropriated -Roman antiquity in a manner for which we would no longer have the -courage--owing to our superior historical sense. And Roman antiquity -itself: how violently, and at the same time how naïvely, did it lay -its hand on everything excellent and elevated belonging to the older -Grecian antiquity! How they translated these writings into the Roman -present! How they wiped away intentionally and unconcernedly the -wing-dust of the butterfly moment! It is thus that Horace now and then -translated Alcæus or Archilochus, it is thus that Propertius translated -Callimachus and Philetas (poets of equal rank with Theocritus, if -we _be allowed_ to judge): of what consequence was it to them that -the actual creator experienced this and that, and had inscribed the -indication thereof in his poem!--as poets they were averse to the -antiquarian, inquisitive spirit which precedes the historical sense; -as poets they did not respect those essentially personal traits and -names, nor anything peculiar to city, coast, or century, such as its -costume and mask, but at once put the present and the Roman in its -place. They seem to us to ask: "Should we not make the old new for -ourselves, and adjust _ourselves_ to it? Should we not be allowed -to inspire this dead body with our soul? for it is dead indeed: how -loathsome is everything dead!"--They did not know the pleasure of the -historical sense; the past and the alien was painful to them, and -as Romans it was an incitement to a Roman conquest. In fact, they -conquered when they translated,--not only in that they omitted the -historical: they added also allusions to the present; above all, they -struck out the name of the poet and put their own in its place--not -with the feeling of theft, but with the very best conscience of the -_Imperium Romanum_. - - -84. - -_The Origin of Poetry.--_The lovers of the fantastic in man, who -at the same time represent the doctrine of instinctive morality, -draw this conclusion: "Granted that utility has been honoured at -all times as the highest divinity, where then in all the world has -poetry come from?--this rhythmising of speech which thwarts rather -than furthers plainness of communication, and which, nevertheless, -has sprung up everywhere on the earth, and still springs up, as a -mockery of all useful purpose! The wildly beautiful irrationality -of poetry refutes you, ye utilitarians! The wish _to get rid of_ -utility in some way--that is precisely what has elevated man, that -is what has inspired him to morality and art!" Well, I must here -speak for once to please the utilitarians,--they are so seldom in the -right that it is pitiful! In the old times which called poetry into -being, people had still utility in view with respect to it, and a -very important utility--at the time when rhythm was introduced into -speech, that force which arranges all the particles of the sentence -anew, commands the choosing of the words, recolours the thought, and -makes it more obscure, more foreign, and more distant: to be sure a -_superstitious utility!_ It was intended that a human entreaty should -be more profoundly impressed upon the Gods by virtue of rhythm, after -it had been observed that men could remember a verse better than an -unmetrical speech. It was likewise thought that people could make -themselves audible at greater distances by the rhythmical beat; the -rhythmical prayer seemed to come nearer to the ear of the Gods. Above -all, however, people wanted to have the advantage of the elementary -conquest which man experiences in himself when he hears music: rhythm -is a constraint; it produces an unconquerable desire to yield, to join -in; not only the step of the foot, but also the soul itself follows -the measure,--probably the soul of the Gods also, as people thought! -They attempted, therefore, to _constrain_ the Gods by rhythm, and to -exercise a power over them; they threw poetry around the Gods like a -magic noose. There was a still more wonderful idea, and it has perhaps -operated most powerfully of all in the originating of poetry. Among -the Pythagoreans it made its appearance as a philosophical doctrine -and as an artifice of teaching: but long before there were philosophers -music was acknowledged to possess the power of unburdening the -emotions, of purifying the soul, of soothing the _ferocia animi_--and -this was owing to the rhythmical element in music. When the proper -tension and harmony of the soul were lost a person had to _dance_ -to the measure of the singer,--that was the recipe of this medical -art. By means of it Terpander quieted a tumult, Empedocles calmed -a maniac, Damon purged a love-sick youth; by means of it even the -maddened, revengeful Gods were treated for the purpose of a cure. This -was effected by driving the frenzy and wantonness of their emotions -to the highest pitch, by making the furious mad, and the revengeful -intoxicated with vengeance all the orgiastic cults seek to discharge -the _ferocia_ of a deity all at once, and thus make an orgy, so that -the deity may feel freer and quieter afterwards, and leave man in -peace. _Melos,_ according to its root, signifies a soothing agency, -not because the song is gentle itself, but because its after-effect is -gentle.--And not only in the religious song, but also in the secular -song of the most ancient times, the prerequisite is that the rhythm -should exercise a magical influence; for example, in drawing water, or -in rowing: the song is for the enchanting of the spirits supposed to be -active thereby; it makes them obliging, involuntary and the instruments -of man. And as often as a person acts he has occasion to sing, _every_ -action is dependent on the assistance of spirits: magic song and -incantation appear to be the original form of poetry. When verse also -came to be used in oracles--the Greeks said that the hexameter was -invented at Delphi,--the rhythm was here also intended to exercise -a compulsory influence. To make a prophecy--that means originally -(according to what seems to me the probable derivation of the Greek -word) to determine something; people thought they could determine the -future by winning Apollo over to their side: he who, according to the -most ancient idea, is far more than a foreseeing deity. According as -the formula is pronounced with literal and rhythmical correctness, -it determines the future: the formula, however, is the invention of -Apollo, who as the God of rhythm, can also determine the goddesses of -fate--Looked at and investigated as a whole, was there ever anything -_more serviceable_ to the ancient superstitious species of human being -than rhythm? People could do everything with it: they could make labour -go on magically; they could compel a God to appear, to be near at -hand, and listen to them; they could arrange the future for themselves -according to their will; they could unburden their own souls of any -kind of excess (of anxiety, of mania, of sympathy, of revenge), and not -only their own souls, but the souls of the most evil spirits,--without -verse a person was nothing, by means of verse a person became almost -a God. Such a fundamental feeling no longer allows itself to be -fully eradicated,--and even now, after millenniums of long labour -in combating such superstition, the very wisest of us occasionally -becomes the fool of rhythm, be it only that one _perceives_ a thought -to be _truer_ when it has a metrical form and approaches with a -divine hopping. Is it not a very funny thing that the most serious -philosophers, however anxious they are in other respects for strict -certainty, still appeal to _poetical sayings_ in order to give their -thoughts force and credibility? and yet it is more dangerous to a truth -when the poet assents to it than when he contradicts it! For, as Homer -says, "Minstrels speak much falsehood!"-- - - -85. - -_The Good and the Beautiful._--Artists, glorify continually--they do -nothing else,--and indeed they glorify all those conditions and things -that have a reputation, so that man may feel himself good or great, or -intoxicated, or merry, or pleased and wise by it. Those _select_ things -and conditions whose value for human _happiness_ is regarded as secure -and determined, are the objects of artists: they are ever lying in wait -to discover such things, to transfer them into the domain of art. I -mean to say that they are not themselves the valuers of happiness and -of the happy ones, but they always press close to these valuers with -the greatest curiosity and longing, in order immediately to use their -valuations advantageously. As besides their impatience, they have also -the big lungs of heralds and the feet of runners, they are generally -always among the first to glorify the _new_ excellency, and often -_seem_ to be the first who have called it good and valued it as good. -This, however, as we have said, is an error; they are only faster and -louder than the actual valuers:--And who then are these?--They are the -rich and the leisurely. - - -86. - -_The Theatre.--_This day has given me once more strong and elevated -sentiments, and if I could have music and art in the evening, I know -well what music and art I should _not_ like to have; namely, none of -that which would fain intoxicate its hearers and _excite_ them to a -crisis of strong and high feeling,--those men with commonplace souls, -who in the evening are not like victors on triumphal cars, but like -tired mules to whom life has rather too often applied the whip. What -would those men at all know of "higher moods," unless there were -expedients for causing ecstasy and idealistic strokes of the whip!--and -thus they have their inspirers as they have their wines. But what is -their drink and their drunkenness to _me!_ Does the inspired one need -wine? He rather looks with a kind of disgust at the agency and the -agent which are here intended to produce an effect without sufficient -reason,--an imitation of the high tide of the soul! What? One gives -the mole wings and proud fancies--before going to sleep, before he -creeps into his hole? One sends him into the theatre and puts great -magnifying-glasses to his blind and tired eyes? Men, whose life is -not "action" but business, sit in front of the stage and look at -strange beings to whom life is more than business? "This is proper," -you say, "this is entertaining, this is what culture wants!"--Well -then! culture is too often lacking in me, for this sight is too often -disgusting to me. He who has enough of tragedy and comedy in himself -surely prefers to remain away from the theatre; or as an exception, -the whole procedure--theatre and public and poet included--becomes for -him a truly tragic and comic play, so that the performed piece counts -for little in comparison. He who is something like Faust and Manfred, -what does it matter to him about the Fausts and Manfreds of the -theatre!--while it certainly gives him something to think about _that_ -such figures are brought into the theatre at all. The _strongest_ -thoughts and passions before those who are not capable of thought -and passion--but of _intoxication_ only! And _those_ as a means to -this end! And theatre and music the hashish-smoking and betel-chewing -of Europeans! Oh, who will narrate to us the whole history of -narcotics!--It is almost the history of "culture," the so-called higher -culture! - - -87. - -_The Conceit of Artists._I think artists often do not know what they -can do best, because they are too conceited, and have set their minds -on something loftier than those little plants appear to be, which -can grow up to perfection on their soil, fresh, rare, and beautiful. -The final value of their own garden and vineyard is superciliously -underestimated by them, and their love and their insight are not of the -same quality. Here is a musician, who, more than any one else, has the -genius for discovering the tones peculiar to suffering, oppressed, -tortured souls, and who can endow even dumb animals with speech. No -one equals him in the colours of the late autumn, in the indescribably -touching happiness of a last, a final, and all too short enjoyment; he -knows a chord for those secret and weird midnights of the soul when -cause and effect seem out of joint, and when every instant something -may originate "out of nothing." He draws his resources best of all -out of the lower depths of human happiness, and so to speak, out of -its drained goblet, where the bitterest and most nauseous drops have -ultimately, for good or for ill, commingled with the sweetest. He -knows the weary shuffling along of the soul which can no longer leap -or fly, yea, not even walk; he has the shy glance of concealed pain, -of understanding without comfort, of leave-taking without avowal; yea, -as the Orpheus of all secret misery, he is greater than anyone; and in -fact much has been added to art by him which was hitherto inexpressible -and not even thought worthy of art, and which was only to be scared -away, by words, and not grasped many small and quite microscopic -features of the soul: yes, he is the master of miniature. But he does -not _wish_ to be so! His _character_ is more in love with large walls -and daring frescoes! He fails to see that his _spirit_ has a different -taste and inclination, and prefers to sit quietly in the corners of -ruined houses:--concealed in this way, concealed even from himself, -he there paints his proper masterpieces, all of which are very short, -often only one bar in length,--there only does he become quite good, -great, and perfect, perhaps there only.--But he does not know it! He is -too conceited to know it. - - -88. - -_Earnestness for the Truth._--Earnest for the truth! What different -things men understand by these words! Just the same opinions, and modes -of demonstration and testing which a thinker regards as a frivolity -in himself, to which he has succumbed with shame at one time or -other,--just the same opinions may give to an artist, who comes in -contact with them and accepts them temporarily, the consciousness that -the profoundest earnestness for the truth has now taken hold of him, -and that it is worthy of admiration that, although an artist, he at the -same time exhibits the most ardent desire for the antithesis of the -apparent. It is thus possible that a person may, just by his pathos of -earnestness, betray how superficially and sparingly his intellect has -hitherto operated in the domain of knowledge.--And is not everything -that we consider _important_ our betrayer? It shows where our motives -lie, and where our motives are altogether lacking. - - -89. - -_Now and Formerly._--Of what consequence is all our art in artistic -products, if that higher art, the art of the festival, be lost by us? -Formerly all artistic products were exhibited on the great festive-path -of humanity, as tokens of remembrance, and monuments of high and happy -moments. One now seeks to allure the exhausted and sickly from the -great suffering-path of humanity for a wanton moment by means of works -of art; one furnishes them with a little ecstasy and insanity. - - -90. - -_Lights and Shades.--_Books and writings are different with different -thinkers. One writer has collected together in his book all the -rays of light which he could quickly plunder and carry home from an -illuminating experience; while another gives only the shadows, and the -grey and black replicas of that which on the previous day had towered -up in his soul. - - -91. - -_Precaution.--_Alfieri, as is well known, told a great many -falsehoods when he narrated the history of his life to his astonished -contemporaries. He told falsehoods owing to the despotism toward -himself which he exhibited, for example, in the way in which he created -his own language, and tyrannised himself into a poet:--he finally found -a rigid form of sublimity into which he _forced_ his life and his -memory; he must have suffered much in the process.--I would also give -no credit to a history of Plato's life written by himself, as little as -to Rousseau's, or to the _Vita nuova_ of Dante. - - -92. - -_Prose and Poetry._--Let it be observed that the great masters of prose -have almost always been poets as well, whether openly, or only in -secret and for the "closet"; and in truth one only writes good prose -_in view of poetry!_ For prose is an uninterrupted, polite warfare with -poetry; all its charm consists in the fact that poetry is constantly -avoided and contradicted; every abstraction wants to have a gibe at -poetry, and wishes to be uttered with a mocking voice; all dryness and -coolness is meant to bring the amiable goddess into an amiable despair; -there are often approximations and reconciliations for the moment, and -then a sudden recoil and a burst of laughter; the curtain is often -drawn up and dazzling light let in just while the goddess is enjoying -her twilights and dull colours; the word is often taken out of her -mouth and chanted to a melody while she holds her fine hands before her -delicate little ears:--and so there are a thousand enjoyments of the -warfare, the defeats included, of which the unpoetic, the so-called -prose--men know nothing at all:--they consequently write and speak -only bad prose! _Warfare is the father of all good things,_ it is also -the father of good prose!--There have been four very singular and -truly poetical men in this century who have arrived at mastership in -prose, for which otherwise this century is not suited, owing to lack -of poetry, as we have indicated. Not to take Goethe into account, for -he is reasonably claimed by the century that produced him, I look only -on Giacomo Leopardi, Prosper Mérimée, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Walter -Savage Landor the author of _Imaginary Conversations,_ as worthy to be -called masters of prose. - - -93. - -_But why, then, do you Write?_--A: I do not belong to those who _think_ -with the wet pen in hand; and still less to those who yield themselves -entirely to their passions before the open ink-bottle, sitting on -their chair and staring at the paper. I am always vexed and abashed -by writing; writing is a necessity for me,--even to speak of it in a -simile is disagreeable. B: But why, then, do you write? A: Well, my -dear Sir, to tell you in confidence, I have hitherto found no other -means of _getting rid of_ my thoughts. B: And why do you wish to get -rid of them? A: Why I wish? Do I really wish! I must--B: Enough! Enough! - - -94. - -_Growth after Death._--Those few daring words about moral matters -which Fontenelle threw into his immortal _Dialogues of the Dead,_ were -regarded by his age as paradoxes and amusements of a not unscrupulous -wit; even the highest judges of taste and intellect saw nothing more -in them,--indeed, Fontenelle himself perhaps saw nothing more. Then -something incredible takes place: these thoughts become truths! Science -proves them! The game becomes serious! And we read those dialogues with -a feeling different from that with which Voltaire and Helvetius read -them, and we involuntarily raise their originator into another and -_much higher_ class of intellects than they did.--Rightly?' Wrongly? - - -95. - -_Chamfort._--That such a judge of men and of the multitude as -Chamfort should side with the multitude, instead of standing apart -in philosophical resignation and defence--I am at a loss to explain -this, except as follows:--There was an instinct in him stronger than -his wisdom, and it had never been gratified: the hatred against all -_noblesse_ of blood; perhaps his mother's old and only too explicable -hatred, which was consecrated in him by love of her,--an instinct of -revenge from his boyhood, which waited for the hour to avenge his -mother. But then the course of his life, his genius, and alas! most of -all, perhaps, the paternal blood in his veins, had seduced him to rank -and consider himself equal to the _noblesse--_for many, many years! -In the end, however, he could not endure the sight of himself, the -"old man" under the old _régime,_ any longer; he got into a violent, -penitential passion, and _in this state_ he put on the raiment of the -populace as _his_ special kind of hair-shirt! His bad conscience was -the neglect of revenge.--If Chamfort had then been a little more of -the philosopher, the Revolution would not have had its tragic wit and -its sharpest sting; it would have been regarded as a much more stupid -affair, and would have had no such seductive influence on men's minds. -But Chamfort's hatred and revenge educated an entire generation; -and the most illustrious men passed through his school. Let us but -consider that Mirabeau looked up to Chamfort as to his higher and older -self, from whom he expected (and endured) impulses, warnings, and -condemnations,--Mirabeau, who as a man belongs to an entirely different -order of greatness, as the very foremost among the statesman-geniuses -of yesterday and to-day.--Strange, that in spite of such a friend and -advocate--we possess Mirabeau's letters to Chamfort--this wittiest of -all moralists has remained unfamiliar to the French, quite the same -as Stendhal, who has perhaps had the most penetrating eyes and ears -of any. Frenchman of _this_ century. Is it because the latter had -really too much of the German and the Englishman in his nature for the -Parisians to endure him?--while Chamfort, a man with ample knowledge -of the profundities and secret motives of the soul, gloomy, suffering, -ardent--a thinker who found laughter necessary as the remedy of life, -and who almost gave himself up as lost every day that he had not -laughed,--seems much more like an Italian, and related by blood to -Dante and Leopardi, than like a Frenchman. One knows Chamfort's last -words: "_Ah! mon ami,_" he said to Sieyès, "_je m'en vais enfin de ce -monde, où il faut que le cœur se brise ou se bronze_--." These were -certainly not the words of a dying Frenchman. - - -96. - -_Two Orators.--_Of these two orators the one arrives at a full -understanding of his case only when he yields himself to emotion; it is -only this that pumps sufficient blood and heat into his brain to compel -his high intellectuality to reveal itself The other attempts, indeed, -now and then to do the same: to state his case sonorously, vehemently, -and spiritedly with the aid of emotion,--but usually with bad success. -He then very soon speaks obscurely and confusedly; he exaggerates, -makes omissions, and excites suspicion of the justice of his case: -indeed, he himself feels this suspicion, and the sudden changes into -the coldest and most repulsive tones (which raise a doubt in the hearer -as to his passionateness being genuine) are thereby explicable. With -him emotion always drowns the spirit; perhaps because it is stronger -than in the former. But he is at the height of his power when he -resists the impetuous storm of his feeling, and as it were scorns it; -it is then only that his spirit emerges fully from its concealment, a -spirit logical, mocking and playful, but nevertheless awe-inspiring. - - -97. - -_The Loquacity of Authors._--There is a loquacity of anger--frequent in -Luther, also in Schopenhauer. A loquacity which comes from too great a -store of conceptual formulæ, as in Kant. A loquacity which comes from -delight in ever new modifications of the same idea: one finds it in -Montaigne. A loquacity of malicious natures: whoever reads writings of -our period will recollect two authors in this connection. A loquacity -which comes from delight in fine words and forms of speech: by no means -rare in Goethe's prose. A loquacity which comes from pure satisfaction -in noise and confusion of feelings: for example in Carlyle. - - -98. - -_In Honour of Shakespeare._--The best thing I could say in honour of -Shakespeare, _the man,_ is that he believed in Brutus, and cast not -a shadow of suspicion on the kind of virtue which Brutus represents! -It is to him that Shakespeare consecrated his best tragedy--it is -at present still called by a wrong name,--to him, and to the most -terrible essence of lofty morality. Independence of soul!--that is -the question at issue! No sacrifice can be too great there: one must -be able to sacrifice to it even one's dearest friend, although he be -the grandest of men, the ornament of the world, the genius without -peer,--if one really loves freedom as the freedom of great souls, and -if _this_ freedom be threatened by him:--it is thus that Shakespeare -must have felt! The elevation in which he places Cæsar is the most -exquisite honour he could confer upon Brutus; it is thus only that he -lifts into vastness the inner problem of his hero, and similarly the -strength of soul which could cut _this knot!--_And was it actually -political freedom that impelled the poet to sympathy with Brutus,--and -made him the accomplice of Brutus? Or was political freedom merely -a symbol for something inexpressible? Do we perhaps stand before -some sombre event or adventure of the poet's own soul, which has -remained unknown, and of which he only cared to speak symbolically? -What is all Hamlet-melancholy in comparison with the melancholy of -Brutus!--and perhaps Shakespeare also knew this, as he knew the -other, by experience! Perhaps he also had his dark hour and his bad -angel, just as Brutus had them!--But whatever similarities and secret -relationships of that kind there may have been, Shakespeare cast -himself on the ground and felt unworthy and alien in presence of the -aspect and virtue of Brutus:--he has inscribed the testimony thereof -in the tragedy itself. He has twice brought in a poet in it, and twice -heaped upon him such an impatient and extreme contempt, that it sounds -like a cry,--like the cry of self-contempt. Brutus, even Brutus loses -patience when the poet appears, self-important, pathetic and obtrusive, -as poets usually are,--persons who seem to abound in the possibilities -of greatness, even moral greatness, and nevertheless rarely attain even -to ordinary uprightness in the philosophy of practice and of life "He -may know the times, _but I know his temper_,--away with the jigging -fool!"--shouts Brutus. We may translate this back into the soul of the -poet that composed it. - - -99. - -_The Followers of Schopenhauer.--_What one sees at the contact -of civilized peoples with barbarians,--namely, that the lower -civilization regularly accepts in the first place the vices, weaknesses -and excesses of the higher; then, from that point onward, feels the -influence of a charm; and finally, by means of the appropriated -vices and weaknesses also allows something of the valuable influence -of the higher culture to leaven it:-one can also see this close at -hand and without journeys to barbarian peoples, to be sure, somewhat -refined and spiritualised, and not so readily palpable. What are -the German followers of _Schopenhauer_ still accustomed to receive -first of all from their master?--those who, when placed beside his -superior culture, must deem themselves sufficiently barbarous to be -first of all barbarously fascinated and seduced by him. Is it his hard -matter-of-fact sense, his inclination to clearness and rationality, -which often makes him appear so English, and so unlike Germans? -Or the strength of his intellectual conscience, which _endured_ a -life-long contradiction of "being" and "willing," and compelled him -to contradict himself constantly even in his writings on almost -every point? Or his purity in matters relating to the Church and the -Christian God?--for here he was pure as no German philosopher had -been hitherto, so that he lived and died "as a Voltairian." Or his -immortal doctrines of the intellectuality of intuition, the apriority -of the law of causality, the instrumental nature of the intellect, -and the non-freedom of the will? No, nothing of this enchants, nor -is felt as enchanting; but Schopenhauer's mystical embarrassments -and shufflings in those passages where the matter-of-fact thinker -allowed himself to be seduced and corrupted by the vain impulse to be -the unraveller of the world's riddle: his undemonstrable doctrine of -_one will_ ("all causes are merely occasional causes of the phenomenon -of the will at such a time and at such a place," "the will to live, -whole and undivided, is present in every being, even in the smallest, -as perfectly as in the sum of all that was, is, and will be"); his -_denial of the individual_ ("all lions are really only one lion," -"plurality of individuals is an appearance," as also _development_ is -only an appearance: he calls the opinion of Lamarck "an ingenious, -absurd error"); his fantasy about _genius_ ("in æsthetic contemplation -the individual is no longer an individual, but a pure, will-less, -painless, timeless subject of knowledge," "the subject, in that it -entirely merges in the contemplated object, has become this object -itself"); his nonsense about _sympathy,_ and about the outburst of -the _principium individuationis_ thus rendered possible, as the -source of all morality; including also such assertions as, "dying -is really the design of existence," "the possibility should not be -absolutely denied that a magical effect could proceed from a person -already dead":--these, and similar _extravagances_ and vices of the -philosopher, are always first accepted and made articles of faith; -for vices and extravagances are always easiest to imitate, and do not -require a long preliminary practice. But let us speak of the most -celebrated of the living Schopenhauerians, Richard Wagner.--It has -happened to him as it has already happened to many an artist: he made -a mistake in the interpretation of the characters he created, and -misunderstood the unexpressed philosophy of the art peculiarly his -own. Richard Wagner allowed himself to be misled by Hegel's influence -till the middle of his life; and he did the same again when later on -he read Schopenhauer's doctrine between the lines of his characters, -and began to express himself with such terms as "will," "genius," -and "sympathy." Nevertheless it will remain true that nothing is -more counter to Schopenhauer's spirit than the essentially Wagnerian -element in Wagner's heroes: I mean the innocence of the supremest -selfishness, the belief in strong passion as the good in itself, in -a word, the Siegfried trait in the countenances of his heroes. "All -that still smacks more of Spinoza than of me,"--Schopenhauer would -probably have said. Whatever good reasons, therefore, Wagner might have -had to be on the outlook for other philosophers than Schopenhauer, -the enchantment to which he succumbed in respect to this thinker, not -only made him blind towards all other philosophers, but even towards -science itself; his entire art is more and more inclined to become -the counterpart and complement of the Schopenhauerian philosophy, -and it always renounces more emphatically the higher ambition to -become the counterpart and complement of human knowledge and science. -And not only is he allured thereto by the whole mystic pomp of this -philosophy (which would also have allured a Cagliostro), the peculiar -airs and emotions of the philosopher have all along been seducing him -as well! For example, Wagner's indignation about the corruption of -the German language is Schopenhauerian; and if one should commend his -imitation in this respect, it is nevertheless not to be denied that -Wagner's style itself suffers in no small degree from all the tumours -and turgidities, the sight of which made Schopenhauer so furious; -and that, in respect to the German-writing Wagnerians, Wagneromania -is beginning to be as dangerous as only some kinds of Hegelomania -have been. From Schopenhauer comes Wagner's hatred of the Jews, to -whom he cannot do justice even in their greatest exploit: are not -the Jews the inventors of Christianity! The attempt of Wagner to -construe Christianity as a seed blown away from Buddhism, and his -endeavour to initiate a Buddhistic era in Europe, under a temporary -approximation to Catholic-Christian formulas and sentiments, are both -Schopenhauerian. Wagner's preaching in favour of pity in dealing with -animals is Schopenhauerian; Schopenhauer's predecessor here, as is -well known, was Voltaire, who already perhaps, like his successors, -knew how to disguise his hatred of certain men and things as pity -towards animals. At least Wagner's hatred of science, which manifests -itself in his preaching, has certainly not been inspired by the -spirit of charitableness and kindness--nor by the _spirit_ at all, as -is sufficiently obvious.--Finally, it is of little importance what -the philosophy of an artist is, provided it is only a supplementary -philosophy, and does not do any injury to his art itself. We cannot -be sufficiently on our guard against taking a dislike to an artist on -account of an occasional, perhaps very unfortunate and presumptuous -masquerade; let us not forget that the dear artists are all of them -something of actors--and must be so; it would be difficult for them -to hold out in the long run without stage-playing. Let us be loyal to -Wagner in that which is _true_ and original in him,--and especially -in this point, that we, his disciples, remain loyal to ourselves -in that which is true and original in us. Let us allow him his -intellectual humours and spasms, let us in fairness rather consider -what strange nutriments and necessaries an art like his _is entitled -to,_ in order to be able to live and grow! It is of no account that -he is often wrong as a thinker; justice and patience are not _his_ -affair. It is sufficient that his life is right in his own eyes, and -maintains its right,--the life which calls to each of us: "Be a man, -and do not follow me--but thyself! thyself!" _Our_ life, also ought to -maintain its right in our own eyes! We also are to grow and blossom -out of ourselves, free and fearless, in innocent selfishness! And so, -on the contemplation of such a man, these thoughts still ring in my -ears to-day, as formerly: "That passion is better than stoicism or -hypocrisy; that straight-forwardness, even in evil, is better than -losing oneself in trying to observe traditional morality; that the free -man is just as able to be good as evil, but that the unemancipated -man is a disgrace to nature, and has no share in heavenly or earthly -bliss; finally, that _all who wish to be free must become so through -themselves,_ and that freedom falls to nobody's lot as a gift from -Heaven." (_Richard Wagner in Bayreuth,_ Vol. I. of this Translation, -pp. 199-200). - - -100. - -_Learning to do Homage._--One must learn the art of homage, as well as -the art of contempt. Whoever goes in new paths and has led many persons -therein, discovers with astonishment how awkward and incompetent -all of them are in the expression of their gratitude, and indeed how -rarely gratitude _is able_ even to express itself. It is always as if -something comes into people's throats when their gratitude wants to -speak so that it only hems and haws, and becomes silent again. The way -in which a thinker succeeds in tracing the effect of his thoughts, -and their transforming and convulsing power, is almost a comedy: it -sometimes seems as if those who have been operated upon felt profoundly -injured thereby, and could only assert their independence, which they -suspect to be threatened, by all kinds of improprieties. It needs -whole generations in order merely to devise a courteous convention -of gratefulness; it is only very late that the period arrives when -something of spirit and genius enters into gratitude Then there is -usually some one who is the great receiver of thanks, not only for the -good he himself has done, but mostly for that which has been gradually -accumulated by his predecessors, as a treasure of what is highest and -best. - - -101. - -_Voltaire_--Wherever there has been a court, it has furnished the -standard of good-speaking and with this also the standard of style for -writers The court language, however, is the language of the courtier -who _has no profession,_ and who even in conversations on scientific -subjects avoids all convenient, technical expressions, because they -smack of the profession; on that account the technical expression, and -everything that betrays the specialist, is a _blemish of style_ in -countries which have a court culture. At present, when all courts have -become caricatures of past and present times, one is astonished to find -even Voltaire unspeakably reserved and scrupulous on this point (for -example, in his judgments concerning such stylists as Fontenelle and -Montesquieu),--we are now, all of us, emancipated from court taste, -while Voltaire was its _perfecter!_ - - -102. - -_A Word for Philologists.--_It is thought that there are books so -valuable and royal that whole generations of scholars are well -employed when through their efforts these books are kept genuine and -intelligible,--to confirm this belief again and again is the purpose -of philology. It presupposes that the rare men are not lacking -(though they may not be visible), who actually know how to use such -valuable books:--those men perhaps who write such books themselves, -or could write them. I mean to say that philology presupposes a noble -belief,--that for the benefit of some few who are always "to come," and -are not there, a very great amount of painful, and even dirty labour -has to be done beforehand: it is all labour _in usum Delphinorum_. - - -103. - -_German Music._--German music, more than any other, has now become -European music; because the changes which Europe experienced through -the Revolution have therein alone found expression: it is only German -music that knows how to express the agitation of popular masses, the -tremendous artificial uproar, which does not even need to be very -noisy,--while Italian opera, for example, knows only the choruses of -domestics or soldiers, but not "the people." There is the additional -fact that in all German music a profound _bourgeois_ jealousy of -the _noblesse_ can be traced, especially a jealousy of _esprit_ and -_élégance,_ as the expressions of a courtly, chivalrous, ancient, and -self-confident society. It is not music like that of Goethe's musician -at the gate, which was pleasing also "in the hall," and to the king as -well; it is not here said: "The knights looked on with martial air; -with bashful eyes the ladies." Even the Graces are not allowed in -German music without a touch of remorse; it is only with Pleasantness, -the country sister of the Graces that the German begins to feel morally -at ease--and from this point up to his enthusiastic, learned, and often -gruff "sublimity" (the Beethoven-like sublimity), he feels more and -more so. If we want to imagine the man of _this_ music,--well, let us -just imagine Beethoven as he appeared beside Goethe, say, at their -meeting at Teplitz: as semi-barbarism beside culture, as the masses -beside the nobility, as the good-natured man beside the good and more -than "good" man, as the visionary beside the artist, as the man needing -comfort beside the comforted, as the man given to exaggeration and -distrust beside the man of reason, as the crank and self-tormenter, as -the foolishly enraptured, blessedly unfortunate, sincerely immoderate -man! as the pretentious and awkward man,--and altogether as the -"untamed man": it was thus that Goethe conceived and characterised -him, Goethe, the exceptional German, for whom a music of equal rank -has not yet been found!--Finally, let us consider whether the present -continually extending contempt of melody and the stunting of the sense -for melody among Germans should not be understood as a democratic -impropriety and an after-effect of the Revolution? For melody has -such an obvious delight in conformity to law, and such an aversion to -everything evolving, unformed and arbitrary, that it sounds like a note -out of the _ancient_ European regime, and as a seduction and guidance -back to it. - - -104. - -_The Tone of the German Language._--We know whence the German -originated which for several centuries has been the universal literary -language of Germany. The Germans, with their reverence for everything -that came from the _court,_ intentionally took the chancery style as -their pattern in all that they had to _write,_ especially in their -letters, records, wills, &c. To write in the chancery style, that -was to write in court and government style,--that was regarded as -something select, compared with the language of the city in which a -person lived. People gradually drew this inference, and spoke also -as they wrote,--they thus became still more select in the forms of -their words, in the choice of their terms and modes of expression, -and finally also in their tones: they affected a court tone when they -spoke, and the affectation at last became natural. Perhaps nothing -quite similar has ever happened elsewhere:--the predominance of the -literary style over the talk, and the formality and affectation of an -entire people becoming the basis of a common and no longer dialectical -language. I believe that the sound of the German language in the -Middle Ages, and especially after the Middle Ages, was extremely -rustic and vulgar; it has ennobled itself somewhat during the last -centuries, principally because it was found necessary to imitate so -many French, Italian, and Spanish sounds, and particularly on the part -of the German (and Austrian) nobility, who could not at all content -themselves with their mother-tongue. But notwithstanding this practice, -German must have sounded intolerably vulgar to Montaigne, and even -to Racine: even at present, in the mouths of travellers among the -Italian populace, it still sounds very coarse, sylvan, and hoarse, as -if it had originated in smoky rooms and outlandish districts.--Now I -notice that at present a similar striving after selectness of tone is -spreading among the former admirers of the chancery style, and that -the Germans are beginning to accommodate themselves to a peculiar -"witchery of sound," which might in the long run become an actual -danger to the German language,--for one may seek in vain for more -execrable sounds in Europe. Something mocking, cold, indifferent and -careless in the voice: that is what at present sounds "noble" to the -Germans--and I hear the approval of this nobleness in the voices of -young officials, teachers, women, and trades-people; indeed, even -the little girls already imitate this German of the officers. For the -officer, and in fact the Prussian officer is the inventor of these -tones: this same officer, who as soldier and professional man possesses -that admirable tact for modesty which the Germans as a whole might -well imitate (German professors and musicians included!). But as soon -as he speaks and moves he is the most inmodest and inelegant figure -in old Europe--no doubt unconsciously to himself! And unconsciously -also to the good Germans, who gaze at him as the man of the foremost -and most select society, and willingly let him "give them his tone." -And indeed he gives it to them!--in the first place it is the -sergeant-majors and non-commissioned officers that imitate his tone -and coarsen it. One should note the roars of command, with which the -German cities are absolutely surrounded at present, when there is -drilling at all the gates: what presumption, furious imperiousness, -and mocking coldness speaks in this uproar! Could the Germans actually -be a musical people?--It is certain that the Germans martialise -themselves at present in the tone of their language: it is probable -that, being exercised to speak martially, they will finally write -martially also. For habituation to definite tones extends deeply into -the character:--people soon have the words and modes of expression, and -finally also the thoughts which just suit these tones! Perhaps they -already write in the officers' style; perhaps I only read too little -of what is at present written in Germany to know this. But one thing -I know all the surer: the German public decorations which also reach -places abroad, are not inspired by German music, but just by that new -tone of tasteless arrogance. Almost in every speech of the foremost -German statesman, and even when he makes himself heard through his -imperial mouth-piece, there is an accent which the ear of a foreigner -repudiates with aversion: but the Germans endure it,--they endure -themselves. - - -105. - -_The Germans as Artists.--_When once a German actually experiences -passion (and not only, as is usual, the mere inclination to it), he -then behaves just as he must do in passion, and does not think further -of his behaviour. The truth is, however, that he then behaves very -awkwardly and uglily, and as if destitute of rhythm and melody; so that -onlookers are pained or moved thereby, but nothing more--_unless_ he -elevate himself to the sublimity and enrapturedness of which certain -passions are capable. Then even the German becomes _beautiful._ The -consciousness of the _height at which_ beauty begins to shed its -charm even over Germans, forces German artists to the height and -the super-height, and to the extravagances of passion: they have an -actual, profound longing, therefore, to get beyond, or at least to -look beyond the ugliness and awkwardness--into a better, easier, more -southern, more sunny world. And thus their convulsions are often merely -indications that they would like to _dance:_ these poor bears in whom -hidden nymphs and satyrs, and sometimes still higher divinities, carry -on their game! - - -106. - -_Music as Advocate._--"I have a longing for a master of the musical -art," said an innovator to his disciple, "that he may learn from me -my ideas and speak them more widely in his language: I shall thus be -better able to reach men's ears and hearts. For by means of tones one -can seduce men to every error and every truth: who could _refute_ a -tone?"--"You would, therefore, like to be regarded as irrefutable?" -said his disciple. The innovator answered: "I should like the germ to -become a tree. In order that a doctrine may become a tree, it must be -believed in for a considerable period; in order that it may be believed -in it must be regarded as irrefutable. Storms and doubts and worms and -wickedness are necessary to the tree, that it may manifest its species -and the strength of its germ; let it perish if it is not strong enough! -But a germ is always merely annihilated,--not refuted!"--When he had -said this, his disciple called out impetuously: "But I believe in your -cause, and regard it as so strong that I will say everything against -it, everything that I still have in my heart."--The innovator laughed -to himself and threatened the disciple with his finger. "This kind of -discipleship," said he then, "is the best, but it is dangerous, and not -every kind of doctrine can stand it." - - -107. - -_Our Ultimate Gratitude to Art._--If we had not approved of the Arts -and invented this sort of cult of the untrue, the insight into the -general untruth and falsity of things now given us by science--an -insight into delusion and error as conditions of intelligent and -sentient existence--would be quite unendurable. _Honesty_ would have -disgust and suicide in its train. Now, however, our honesty has a -counterpoise which helps us to escape such consequences;--namely, Art, -as the _good-will_ to illusion. We do not always restrain our eyes from -rounding off and perfecting in imagination: and then it is no longer -the eternal imperfection that we carry over the river of Becoming--for -we think we carry a _goddess,_ and are proud and artless in rendering -this service. As an æsthetic phenomenon existence is still _endurable_ -to us; and by Art, eye and hand and above all the good conscience are -given to us, _to be able_ to make such a phenomenon out of ourselves. -We must rest from ourselves occasionally by contemplating and looking -down upon ourselves, and by laughing or weeping _over_ ourselves from -an artistic remoteness: we must discover the _hero,_ and likewise the -_fool,_ that is hidden in our passion for knowledge; we must now and -then be joyful in our folly, that we may continue to be joyful in our -wisdom! And just because we are heavy and serious men in our ultimate -depth, and are rather weights than men, there is nothing that does us -so much good as the _fool's cap and bells:_ we need them in presence of -ourselves--we need all arrogant, soaring, dancing, mocking, childish -and blessed Art, in order not to lose the _free dominion over things_ -which our ideal demands of us. It would be _backsliding_ for us, -with our susceptible integrity, to lapse entirely into morality, and -actually become virtuous monsters and scarecrows, on account of the -over-strict requirements which we here lay down for ourselves. We -ought also to _be able_ to stand _above_ morality, and not only stand -with the painful stiffness of one who every moment fears to slip and -fall, but we should also be able to soar and play above it! How could -we dispense with Art for that purpose, how could we dispense with the -fool?--And as long as you are still _ashamed_ of yourselves in any -way, you still do not belong to us! - - - - -BOOK THIRD - - -108. - -_New Struggles._--After Buddha was dead people showed his shadow for -centuries afterwards in a cave,--an immense frightful shadow. God is -dead:--but as the human race is constituted, there will perhaps be -caves for millenniums yet, in which people will show his shadow.--And -we--we have still to overcome his shadow! - - -109. - -_Let us be on our Guard._--Let us be on our guard against thinking -that the world is a living being. Where could it extend itself? What -could it nourish itself with? How could it grow and increase? We know -tolerably well what the organic is; and we are to reinterpret the -emphatically derivative, tardy, rare and accidental, which we only -perceive on the crust of the earth, into the essential, universal -and eternal, as those do who call the universe an organism? That -disgusts me. Let us now be on our guard against believing that the -universe is a machine; it is assuredly not constructed with a view -to _one_ end; we invest it with far too high an honour with the word -"machine." Let us be on our guard against supposing that anything so -methodical as the cyclic motions of our neighbouring stars obtains -generally and throughout the universe; indeed a glance at the -Milky Way induces doubt as to whether there are not many cruder and -more contradictory motions there, and even stars with continuous, -rectilinearly gravitating orbits, and the like. The astral arrangement -in which we live is an exception; this arrangement, and the relatively -long durability which is determined by it, has again made possible the -exception of exceptions, the formation of organic life. The general -character of the world, on the other hand, is to all eternity chaos; -not by the absence of necessity, but in the sense of the absence of -order, structure, form, beauty, wisdom, and whatever else our æsthetic -humanities are called. Judged by our reason, the unlucky casts are far -oftenest the rule, the exceptions are not the secret purpose; and the -whole musical box repeats eternally its air, which can never be called -a melody,--and finally the very expression, "unlucky cast" is already -an anthropomorphising which involves blame. But how could we presume to -blame or praise the universe! Let us be on our guard against ascribing -to it heartlessness and unreason, or their opposites; it is neither -perfect, nor beautiful, nor noble; nor does it seek to be anything of -the kind, it does not at all attempt to imitate man! It is altogether -unaffected by our æsthetic and moral judgments! Neither has it any -self-preservative instinct, nor instinct at all; it also knows no law. -Let us be on our guard against saying that there are laws in nature. -There are only necessities: there is no one who commands, no one who -obeys, no one who transgresses. When you know that there is no design, -you know also that there is no chance: for it is only where there is a -world of design that the word "chance" has a meaning. Let us be on our -guard against saying that death is contrary to life. The living being -is only a species of dead being, and a very rare species.--Let us be on -our guard against thinking that the world eternally creates the new. -There are no eternally enduring substances; matter is just another such -error as the God of the Eleatics. But when shall we be at an end with -our foresight and precaution! When will all these shadows of God cease -to obscure us? When shall we have nature entirely undeified! When shall -we be permitted to _naturalise_ ourselves by means of the pure, newly -discovered, newly redeemed nature? - - -110. - -_Origin of Knowledge._--Throughout immense stretches of time the -intellect produced nothing but errors; some of them proved to be useful -and preservative of the species: he who fell in with them, or inherited -them, waged the battle for himself and his offspring with better -success. Those erroneous articles of faith which were successively -transmitted by inheritance, and have finally become almost the property -and stock of the human species, are, for example, the following:--that -there are enduring things, that there are equal things, that there are -things, substances, and bodies, that a thing is what it appears, that -our will is free, that what is good for me is also good absolutely. It -was only very late that the deniers and doubters of such propositions -came forward,--it was only very late that truth made its appearance -as the most impotent form of knowledge. It seemed as if it were -impossible to get along with truth, our organism was adapted for -the very opposite; all its higher functions, the perceptions of the -senses, and in general every kind of sensation, co-operated with those -primevally embodied, fundamental errors. Moreover, those propositions -became the very standards of knowledge according to which the "true" -and the "false" were determined--throughout the whole domain of pure -logic. The _strength_ of conceptions does not, therefore, depend on -their degree of truth, but on their antiquity, their embodiment, their -character as conditions of life. Where life and knowledge seemed to -conflict, there has never been serious contention; denial and doubt -have there been regarded as madness. The exceptional thinkers like the -Eleatics, who, in spite of this, advanced and maintained the antitheses -of the natural errors, believed that it was possible also _to live_ -these counterparts: it was they who devised the sage as the man of -immutability, impersonality and universality of intuition, as one and -all at the same time, with a special faculty for that reverse kind of -knowledge; they were of the belief that their knowledge was at the same -time the principle of _life._ To be able to affirm all this, however, -they had to _deceive_ themselves concerning their own condition: they -had to attribute to themselves impersonality and unchanging permanence, -they had to mistake the nature of the philosophic individual, deny the -force of the impulses in cognition, and conceive of reason generally -as an entirely free and self-originating activity; they kept their -eyes shut to the fact that they also had reached their doctrines in -contradiction to valid methods, or through their longing for repose or -for exclusive possession or for domination. The subtler development of -sincerity and of scepticism finally made these men impossible; their -life also, and their judgments, turned out to be dependent on the -primeval impulses and fundamental errors of all sentient being.--The -subtler sincerity and scepticism arose wherever two antithetical -maxims appeared to be _applicable_ to life, because both of them were -compatible with the fundamental errors; where, therefore, there could -be contention concerning a higher or lower degree of _utility_ for -life; and likewise where new maxims proved to be, not necessarily -useful, but at least not injurious, as expressions of an intellectual -impulse to play a game that was like all games innocent and happy. The -human brain was gradually filled with such judgments and convictions; -and in this tangled skein there arose ferment, strife and lust for -power. Not only utility and delight, but every kind of impulse took -part in the struggle for "truths": the intellectual struggle became -a business, an attraction, a calling, a duty, an honour--: cognizing -and striving for the true finally arranged themselves as needs among -other needs. From that moment, not only belief and conviction, but also -examination, denial, distrust and contradiction became _forces;_ all -"evil" instincts were subordinated to knowledge, were placed in its -service, and acquired the prestige of the permitted, the honoured, -the useful, and finally the appearance and innocence of the _good._ -Knowledge, thus became a portion of life itself, and as life it became -a continually growing power: until finally the cognitions and those -primeval, fundamental errors clashed with each other, both as life, -both as power, both in the same man. The thinker is now the being in -whom the impulse to truth and those life-preserving errors wage their -first conflict, now that the impulse to truth has also _proved_ itself -to be a life-preserving power. In comparison with the importance of -this conflict everything else is indifferent; the final question -concerning the conditions of life is here raised, and the first attempt -is here made to answer it by experiment. How far is truth susceptible -of embodiment?--that is the question, that is the experiment. - - -111. - -_Origin of the Logical._--Where has logic originated in men's heads? -Undoubtedly out of the illogical, the domain of which must originally -_have_ been immense. But numberless beings who reasoned otherwise than -we do at present, perished; albeit that they may have come nearer to -truth than we! Whoever, for example, could not discern the "like" often -enough with regard to food, and with regard to animals dangerous to -him, whoever, therefore, deduced too slowly, or was too circumspect in -his deductions, had smaller probability of survival than he who in all -similar cases immediately divined the equality. The preponderating -inclination, however, to deal with the similar as the equal--an -illogical inclination, for there is nothing equal in itself--first -created the whole basis of logic. It was just so (in order that the -conception of substance should originate, this being indispensable to -logic, although in the strictest sense nothing actual corresponds to -it) that for a long period the changing process in things had to be -overlooked, and remain unperceived; the beings not seeing correctly -had an advantage over those who saw everything "in flux." In itself -every high degree of circumspection in conclusions, every sceptical -inclination, is a great danger to life. No living being might have -been preserved unless the contrary inclination--to affirm rather than -suspend judgment, to mistake and fabricate rather than wait, to assent -rather than deny, to decide rather than be in the right--had been -cultivated with extraordinary assiduity.--The course of logical thought -and reasoning in our modern brain corresponds to a process and struggle -of impulses, which singly and in themselves are all very illogical -and unjust; we experience usually only the result of the struggle, so -rapidly and secretly does this primitive mechanism now operate in us. - - -112. - -_Cause and Effect._--We say it is "explanation"; but it is only in -"description" that we are in advance of the older stages of knowledge -and science. We describe better,--we explain just as little as our -predecessors. We have discovered a manifold succession where the naïve -man and investigator of older cultures saw only two things, "cause" -and "effect," as it was said; we have perfected the conception of -becoming, but have not got a knowledge of what is above and behind the -conception. The series of "causes" stands before us much more complete -in every case; we conclude that this and that must first precede in -order that that other may follow--but we have not _grasped_ anything -thereby. The peculiarity, for example, in every chemical process seems -a "miracle," the same as before, just like all locomotion; nobody -has "explained" impulse. How could we ever explain! We operate only -with things which do not exist, with lines, surfaces, bodies, atoms, -divisible times, divisible spaces--how can explanation ever be possible -when we first make everything a _conception,_ our conception! It is -sufficient to regard science as the exactest humanising of things that -is possible; we always learn to describe ourselves more accurately by -describing things and their successions. Cause and effect: there is -probably never any such duality; in fact there is a _continuum_ before -us, from which we isolate a few portions;--just as we always observe -a motion as isolated points, and therefore do not properly see it, -but infer it. The abruptness with which many effects take place leads -us into error; it is however only an abruptness for us. There is an -infinite multitude of processes in that abrupt moment which escape us. -An intellect which could see cause and effect as a _continuum,_ which -could see the flux of events not according to our mode of perception, -as things arbitrarily separated and broken--would throw aside the -conception of cause and effect, and would deny all conditionality. - - -113. - -_The Theory of Poisons._--So many things have to be united in order -that scientific thinking may arise, and all the necessary powers -must have been devised, exercised, and fostered singly! In their -isolation, however, they have very often had quite a different -effect than at present, when they are confined within the limits of -scientific thinking and kept mutually in check:--they have operated as -poisons; for example, the doubting impulse, the denying impulse, the -waiting impulse, the collecting impulse, the disintegrating impulse. -Many hecatombs of men were sacrificed ere these impulses learned to -understand their juxtaposition and regard themselves as functions of -one organising force in one man! And how far are we still from the -point at which the artistic powers and the practical wisdom of life -shall co-operate with scientific thinking, so that a higher organic -system may be formed, in relation to which the scholar, the physician, -the artist, and the lawgiver, as we know them at present, will seem -sorry antiquities! - - -114. - -_The Extent of the Moral._--We construct a new picture, which we see -immediately with the aid of all the old experiences which we have -had, _always according to the degree_ of our honesty and justice. -The only experiences are moral experiences, even in the domain of -sense-perception. - - -115. - -_The Four Errors._--Man has been reared by his errors: firstly, he saw -himself always imperfect; secondly,-he attributed to himself--imaginary -qualities; thirdly, he felt himself in a false position in relation -to the animals and nature; fourthly, he always devised new tables of -values, and accepted them for a time as eternal and unconditioned, so -that at one time this, and at another time that human impulse or state -stood first, and was ennobled in consequence. When one has deducted -the effect of these four errors, one has also deducted humanity, -humaneness, and "human dignity." - - -116. - -_Herd-Instinct._--Wherever we meet with a morality we find a -valuation and order of rank of the human impulses and activities. -These valuations and orders of rank are always the expression of the -needs of a community or herd: that which is in the first place to -_its_ advantage--and in the second place and third place--is also the -authoritative standard for the worth of every individual. By morality -the individual is taught to become a function of the herd, and to -ascribe to himself value only as a function. As the conditions for -the maintenance of one community have been very different from those -of another community, there have been very different moralities; -and in respect to the future essential transformations of herds and -communities, states and societies, one can prophesy that there will -still be very divergent moralities. Morality is the herd-instinct in -the individual. - - -117. - -_The Herd's Sting of Conscience._--In the longest and remotest ages -of the human race there was quite a different sting of conscience -from that of the present day. At present one only feels responsible -for what one intends and for what one does, and we have our pride -in ourselves. All our professors of jurisprudence start with this -sentiment of individual independence and pleasure, as if the source -of right had taken its rise here from the beginning. But throughout -the longest period in the life of mankind there was nothing more -terrible to a person than to feel himself independent. To be alone, -to feel independent, neither to obey nor to rule, to represent an -individual--that was no pleasure to a person then, but a punishment; he -was condemned "to be an individual." Freedom of thought was regarded as -discomfort personified. While we feel law and regulation as constraint -and loss, people formerly regarded egoism as a painful thing, and a -veritable evil. For a person to be himself, to value himself according -to his own measure and weight--that was then quite distasteful. The -inclination to such a thing would have been regarded as madness; for -all miseries and terrors were associated with being alone. At that -time the "free will" had bad conscience in close proximity to it; and -the less independently a person acted, the more the herd-instinct, and -not his personal character, expressed itself in his conduct, so much -the more moral did he esteem himself. All that did injury to the herd, -whether the individual had intended it or not, then caused him a sting -of conscience--and his neighbour likewise, indeed the whole herd!--It -is in this respect that we have most changed our mode of thinking. - - -118. - -_Benevolence--_Is it virtuous when a cell transforms itself into the -function of a stronger cell? It must do so. And is it wicked when -the stronger one assimilates the other? It must do so likewise: it -is necessary, for it has to have abundant indemnity and seeks to -regenerate itself. One has therefore to distinguish the instinct -of appropriation and the instinct of submission in benevolence, -according as the stronger or the weaker feels benevolent. Gladness -and covetousness are united in the stronger person, who wants to -transform something to his function: gladness and desire-to-be-coveted -in the weaker person, who would like to become a function.--The former -case is essentially pity, a pleasant excitation of the instinct of -appropriation at the sight of the weak: it is to be remembered, -however, that "strong" and "weak" are relative conceptions. - - -119. - -_No Altruism!_/--I see in many men an excessive impulse and delight -in wanting to be a function; they strive after it, and have the -keenest scent for all those positions in which precisely _they_ -themselves can be functions. Among such persons are those women who -transform themselves into just that function of a man that is but -weakly-developed in him, and then become his purse, or his politics, or -his social intercourse. Such beings maintain themselves best when they -insert themselves in an alien organism; if they do not succeed they -become vexed, irritated, and eat themselves up. - - -120. - -_Health of the Soul._--The favourite medico-moral formula (whose -originator was Ariston of Chios), "Virtue is the health of the soul," -would, for all practical purposes, have to be altered to this: "Thy -virtue is the health of thy soul." For there is no such thing as -health in itself, and all attempts to define a thing in that way have -lamentably failed. It is necessary to know thy aim, thy horizon, -thy powers, thy impulses, thy errors, and especially the ideals and -fantasies of thy soul, in order to determine _what health_ implies even -for thy _body._ There are consequently innumerable kinds of physical -health; and the more one again permits the unique and unparalleled to -raise its head, the more one unlearns the dogma of the "Equality of -men," so much the more also must the conception of a normal health, -together with a normal diet and a normal course of disease, be -abrogated by our physicians. And then only would it be time to turn -our thoughts to the health and disease of the _soul,_ and make the -special virtue of everyone consist in its health; but, to be sure, -what appeared as health in one person might appear as the contrary of -health in another. In the end the great question might still remain -open:--Whether we could _do without_ sickness for the development of -our virtue, and whether our thirst for knowledge and self-knowledge -would not especially need the sickly soul as well as the sound one; in -short, whether the mere will to health is not a prejudice, a cowardice, -and perhaps an instance of the subtlest barbarism and unprogressiveness? - - -121. - -_Life no Argument._--We have arranged for ourselves a world in which -we can live--by the postulating of bodies, lines, surfaces, causes and -effects, motion and rest, form and content: without these articles of -faith no one could manage to live at present! But for all that they -are still unproved. Life is no argument; error might be among the -conditions of life. - - -122. - -_The Element of Moral Scepticism in Christianity._--Christianity also -has made a great contribution to enlightenment, and has taught moral -scepticism --in a very impressive and effective manner, accusing and -embittering, but with untiring patience and subtlety; it annihilated -in every individual the belief in his virtues: it made the great -virtuous ones, of whom antiquity had no lack, vanish for ever from -the earth, those popular men, who, in the belief in their perfection, -walked about with the dignity of a hero of the bull-fight. When, -trained in this Christian school of scepticism, we now read the moral -books of the ancients, for example those of Seneca and Epictetus, we -feel a pleasurable superiority, and are full of secret insight and -penetration,--it seems to us as if a child talked before an old man, or -a pretty, gushing girl before La Rochefoucauld:--we know better what -virtue is! After all, however, we have applied the same scepticism to -all _religious_ states and processes, such as sin, repentance, grace, -sanctification, &c., and have allowed the worm to burrow so well, that -we have now the same feeling of subtle superiority and insight even -in reading all Christian books:--we know also the religious feelings -better! And it is time to know them well and describe them well, for -the pious ones of the old belief die out also; let us save their -likeness and type, at least for the sake of knowledge. - - -123. - -_Knowledge more than a Means._--Also _without_ this passion--I refer -to the passion for knowledge--science would be furthered: science has -hitherto increased and grown up without it. The good faith in science, -the prejudice in its favour, by which States are at present dominated -(it was even the Church formerly), rests fundamentally on the fact that -the absolute inclination and impulse has so rarely revealed itself in -it, and that science is regarded _not_ as a passion, but as a condition -and an "ethos." Indeed, _amour-plaisir_ of knowledge (curiosity) often -enough suffices, _amour-vanité_ suffices, and habituation to it, with -the afterthought of obtaining honour and bread; it even suffices for -many that they do not know what to do with a surplus of leisure, except -to continue reading, collecting, arranging, observing and narrating; -their "scientific impulse" is their ennui. Pope Leo X once (in the -brief to Beroaldus) sang the praise of science; he designated it as the -finest ornament and the greatest pride of our life, a noble employment -in happiness and in misfortune; "without it," he says finally, "all -human undertakings would be without a firm basis,--even with it they -are still sufficiently mutable and insecure!" But this rather sceptical -Pope, like all other ecclesiastical panegyrists of science, suppressed -his ultimate judgment concerning it. If one may deduce from his words -what is remarkable enough for such a lover of art, that he places -science above art it is alter all, however, only from politeness that -he omits to speak of that which he places high above all science: -the "revealed truth," and the "eternal salvation o the soul,"--what -are ornament, pride, entertainment and security of life to him, in -comparison thereto? "Science is something of secondary rank, nothing -ultimate or unconditioned, no object of passion"--this judgment was -kept back in Leos soul: the truly Christian judgment concerning -science! In antiquity its dignity and appreciation were lessened by -the fact that, even among its most eager disciples, the striving after -_virtue_ stood foremost and that people thought they had given the -highest praise to knowledge when they celebrated it as the best means -to virtue. It is something new in history that knowledge claims to be -more than a means. - - -124. - -_In the Horizon of the Infinite._--We have left the land and have gone -aboard ship! We have broken down the bridge behind us,--nay, more, the -land behind us! Well, little ship! look out! Beside thee is the ocean; -it is true it does not always roar, and sometimes it spreads out like -silk and gold and a gentle reverie. But times will come when thou wilt -feel that it is infinite, and that there is nothing more frightful than -infinity. Oh, the poor bird that felt itself free, and now strikes -against the walls of this cage! Alas, if home-sickness for the land -should attack thee, as if there had been more _freedom_ there,--and -there is no "land" any longer! - - -125. - -_The Madman._--Have you ever heard of the madman who on a bright -morning lighted a lantern and ran to the market-place calling out -unceasingly: "I seek God! I seek God!"--As there were many people -standing about who did not believe in God, he caused a great deal -of amusement. Why! is he lost? said one. Has he strayed away like a -child? said another. Or does he keep himself hidden? Is he afraid of -us? Has he taken a sea-voyage? Has he emigrated?--the people cried out -laughingly, all in a hubbub. The insane man jumped into their midst -and transfixed them with his glances. "Where is God gone?" he called -out. "I mean to tell you! _We have killed him,_--you and I! We are all -his murderers! But how have we done it? How were we able to drink up -the sea? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the whole horizon? What -did we do when we loosened this earth from its sun? Whither does it -now move? Whither do we move? Away from all suns? Do we not dash on -unceasingly? Back-wards, sideways, forewards, in all directions? Is -there still an above and below? Do we not stray, as through infinite -nothingness? Does not empty space breathe upon us? Has it not become -colder? Does not night come on continually, darker and darker? Shall -we not have to light lanterns in the morning? Do we not hear the noise -of the grave-diggers who are burying God? Do we not smell the divine -putrefaction?--for even Gods putrefy! God is dead! God remains dead! -And we have killed him! How shall we console ourselves, the most -murderous of all murderers? The holiest and the mightiest that the -world has hitherto possessed, has bled to death under our knife,--who -will wipe the blood from us? With what water could we cleanse -ourselves? What lustrums, what sacred games shall we have to devise? Is -not the magnitude of this deed too great for us? Shall we not ourselves -have to become Gods, merely to seem worthy of it? There never was a -greater event,--and on account of it, all who are born after us belong -to a higher history than any history hitherto!"--Here the madman was -silent and looked again at his hearers; they also were silent and -looked at him in surprise. At last he threw his lantern on the ground, -so that it broke in pieces and was extinguished. "I come too early," -he then said, "I am not yet at the right time. This prodigious event -is still on its way, and is travelling,--it has not yet reached men's -ears. Lightning and thunder need time, the light of the stars needs -time, deeds need time, even after they are done, to be seen and heard. -This deed is as yet further from them than the furthest star,--_and yet -they have done it!"--It_ is further stated that the madman made his way -into different churches on the same day, and there intoned his _Requiem -æternam deo._ When led out and called to account, he always gave the -reply: "What are these churches now, if they are not the tombs and -monuments of God?"-- - - -126. - -_Mystical Explanations._--Mystical explanations are regarded as -profound; the truth is that they do not even go the length of being -superficial. - - -127. - -_After-Effect of the most Ancient Religiousness.--_The thoughtless -man thinks that the Will is the only thing that operates, that willing -is something simple, manifestly given, underived, and comprehensible -in itself. He is convinced that when he does anything, for example, -when he delivers a blow, it is _he_ who strikes, and he has struck -because he _willed_ to strike. He does not notice anything of a problem -therein, but the feeling of _willing_ suffices to him, not only for -the acceptance of cause and effect, but also for the belief that he -_understands_ their relationship. Of the mechanism of the occurrence, -and of the manifold subtle operations that must be performed in order -that the blow may result, and likewise of the incapacity of the Will -in itself to effect even the smallest part of those operations--he -knows nothing. The Will is to him a magically operating force; the -belief in the Will as the cause of effects is the belief in magically -operating forces. In fact, whenever he saw anything happen, man -originally believed in a Will as cause, and in personally _willing_ -beings operating in the background,--the conception of mechanism was -very remote from him. Because, however, man for immense periods of -time believed only in persons (and not in matter, forces, things, -&c.), the belief in cause and effect has become a fundamental belief -with him, which he applies everywhere when anything happens,--and even -still uses instinctively as a piece of atavism of remotest origin. The -propositions, "No effect without a cause," and "Every effect again -implies a cause," appear as generalisations of several less general -propositions:--"Where there is operation there has been _willing_." -"Operating is only possible on _willing_ beings." "There is never -a pure, resultless experience of activity, but every experience -involves stimulation of the Will" (to activity, defence, revenge or -retaliation). But in the primitive period of the human race, the -latter and the former propositions were identical, the first were not -generalisations of the second, but the second were explanations of -the first.--Schopenhauer, with his assumption that all that exists is -something _volitional,_ has set a primitive mythology on the throne; -he seems never to have attempted an analysis of the Will, because -he _believed_ like everybody in the simplicity and immediateness of -all volition:--while volition is in fact such a cleverly practised -mechanical process that it almost escapes the observing eye. I set the -following propositions against those of Schopenhauer:--Firstly, in -order that Will may arise, an idea of pleasure and pain is necessary. -Secondly, that a vigorous excitation may be felt as pleasure or pain, -is the affair of the _interpreting_ intellect, which, to be sure, -operates thereby for the most part unconsciously to us, and one and the -same excitation _may_ be interpreted as pleasure or pain. Thirdly, it -is only in an intellectual being that there is pleasure, displeasure -and Will; the immense majority of organisms have nothing of the kind. - - -128. - -_The Value of Prayer.--_Prayer has been devised for such men as have -never any thoughts of their own, and to whom an elevation of the soul -is unknown, or passes unnoticed; what shall these people do in holy -places and in all important situations in life which require repose and -some kind of dignity? In order at least that they may not _disturb,_ -the wisdom of all the founders of religions, the small as well as -the great, has commended to them the formula of prayer, as a long -mechanical labour of the lips, united with an effort of the memory, -and with a uniform, prescribed attitude of hands and feet--_and_ eyes! -They may then, like the Tibetans, chew the cud of their "_om mane -padme hum,"_ innumerable times, or, as in Benares, count the name of -the God Ram-Ram-Ram (etc., with or without grace) on their fingers; -or honour Vishnu with his thousand names of invocation, Allah with his -ninety-nine; or they may make use of the prayer-wheels and the rosary: -the main thing is that they are settled down for a time at this work, -and present a tolerable appearance; their mode of prayer is devised -for the advantage of the pious who have thought and elevation of their -own. But even these have their weary hours when a series of venerable -words and sounds, and a mechanical, pious ritual does them good. But -supposing that these rare men--in every religion the religious man is -an exception--know how to help themselves, the poor in spirit do not -know, and to forbid them the prayer-babbling would mean to take their -religion from them, a fact which Protestantism brings more and more to -light. All that religion wants with such persons is that they should -_keep still_ with their eyes, hands, legs, and all their organs: they -thereby become temporarily beautified and--more human-looking! - - -129. - -_The Conditions for God.--_"God himself cannot subsist without wise -men," said Luther, and with good reason; but "God can still less -subsist without unwise men,"--good Luther did not say that! - - -130. - -_A Dangerous Resolution.--_The Christian resolution to find the world -ugly and bad, has made the world ugly and bad. - - -131. - -_Christianity and Suicide._--Christianity made use of the excessive -longing for suicide at the time of its origin as a lever for its power: -it left only two forms of suicide, invested them with the highest -dignity and the highest hopes, and forbade all others with dreadful -threatenings. But martyrdom and the slow self-annihilation of the -ascetic were permitted. - - -132. - -_Against Christianity._--It is now no longer our reason, but our taste -that decides against Christianity. - - -133. - -_Axioms._--An unavoidable hypothesis on which mankind must always fall -back again, is in the long run _more powerful_ than the most firmly -believed belief in something untrue (like the Christian belief). In the -long run: that means a hundred thousand years hence. - - -134. - -_Pessimists as Victims._--When a profound dislike of existence gets -the upper hand, the after-effect of a great error in diet of which a -people has been long guilty comes to light. The spread of Buddhism -(_not_ its origin) is thus to a considerable extent dependent on the -excessive and almost exclusive rice-fare of the Indians, and on the -universal enervation that results therefrom. Perhaps the modern, -European discontentedness is to be looked upon as caused by the fact -that the world of our forefathers, the whole Middle Ages, was given to -drink, owing to the influence of German tastes in Europe: the Middle -Ages, that means the alcoholic poisoning of Europe.--The German dislike -of life (including the influence of the cellar-air and stove-poison in -German dwellings), is essentially a cold-weather complaint. - - -135. - -_Origin of Sin_--Sin, as it is at present felt wherever Christianity -prevails or has prevailed is a Jewish feeling and a Jewish invention; -and in respect to this background of all Christian morality -Christianity has in fact aimed at "Judaising" the whole world. To -what an extent this has succeeded in Europe is traced most accurately -in our remarkable alienness to Greek antiquity--a world without the -feeling of sin--in our sentiments even at present; in spite of all the -good will to approximation and assimilation, which whole generations -and many distinguished individuals have not failed to display. "Only -when thou _repentest_ is God gracious to thee"--that would arouse -the laughter or the wrath of a Greek: he would say, "Slaves may have -such sentiments." Here a mighty being, an almighty being, and yet a -revengeful being, is presupposed; his power is so great that no injury -whatever can be done to him except in the point of honour. Every sin is -an infringement of respect, a _crimen læsæ majestatis divinæ_?--and -nothing more! Contrition, degradation, rolling-in-the-dust,--these -are the first and last conditions on which his favour depends: the -restoration, therefore, of his divine honour! If injury be caused -otherwise by sin, if a profound, spreading evil be propagated by it, -an evil which, like a disease, attacks and strangles one man after -another--that does not trouble this honour-craving Oriental in heaven; -sin is an offence against him, not against mankind!--to him on whom -he has bestowed his favour he bestows also this indifference to the -natural consequences of sin. God and mankind are here thought of as -separated as so antithetical that sin against the latter cannot be at -all possible,--all deeds are to be looked upon _solely with respect to -their supernatural consequences,_ and not with respect to their natural -results: it is thus that the Jewish feeling, to which all that is -natural seems unworthy in itself, would have things. The _Greeks,_ on -the other hand, were more familiar with the thought that transgression -also may have dignity,--even theft, as in the case of Prometheus, even -the slaughtering of cattle as the expression of frantic jealousy, as in -the case of Ajax; in their need to attribute dignity to transgression -and embody it therein, they invented _tragedy,_--an art and a delight, -which in its profoundest essence has remained alien to the Jew, in -spite of all his poetic endowment and taste for the sublime. - - -136. - -_The Chosen People._--The Jews, who regard themselves as the chosen -people among the nations, and that too because they are the moral -genius among the nations (in virtue of their capacity for _despising_ -the human in themselves _more_ than any other people)--the Jews have -a pleasure in their divine monarch and saint similar to that which -the French nobility had in Louis XIV. This nobility had allowed its -power and autocracy to be taken from it, and had become contemptible: -in order not to feel this, in order to be able to forget it, an -_unequalled_ royal magnificence, royal authority and plenitude of power -was needed, to which there was access only for the nobility. As in -accordance with this privilege they raised themselves to the elevation -of the court, and from that elevation saw everything under them,--saw -everything contemptible,--they got beyond all uneasiness of conscience. -They thus elevated intentionally the tower of the royal power more and -more into the clouds, and set the final coping-stone of their own power -thereon. - - -137. - -_Spoken in Parable._--A Jesus Christ was only possible in a -Jewish landscape--I mean in one over which the gloomy and sublime -thunder-cloud of the angry Jehovah hung continually. Here only was -the rare, sudden flashing of a single sunbeam through the dreadful, -universal and continuous nocturnal-day regarded as a miracle of "love," -as a beam of the most unmerited "grace." Here only could Christ dream -of his rainbow and celestial ladder on which God descended to man; -everywhere else the clear weather and the sun were considered the rule -and the commonplace. - - -138. - -_The Error of Christ.--_The founder of Christianity thought there was -nothing from which men suffered so much as from their sins:--it was -his error, the error of him who felt himself without sin, to whom -experience was lacking in this respect! It was thus that his soul -filled with that marvellous, fantastic pity which had reference to -a trouble that even among his own people, the inventors of sin, was -rarely a great trouble! But Christians understood subsequently how -to do justice to their master, and how to sanctify his error into a -"truth." - - -139. - -_Colour of the Passions.--_Natures such as the apostle Paul, have -an evil eye for the passions; they learn to know only the filthy, -the distorting, and the heart-breaking in them,--their ideal aim, -therefore, is the annihilation of the passions; in the divine they see -complete purification from passion. The Greeks, quite otherwise than -Paul and the Jews, directed their ideal aim precisely to the passions, -and loved, elevated, embellished and deified them: in passion they -evidently not only felt themselves happier, but also purer and diviner -than otherwise.--And now the Christians? Have they wished to become -Jews in this respect? Have they perhaps become Jews? - - -140. - -_Too Jewish.--_If God had wanted to become an object of love, he would -first of all have had to forgo judging and justice:-a judge, and even -a gracious judge, is no object of love. The founder of Christianity -showed too little of the finer feelings in this respect--being a Jew. - - -141. - -_Too Oriental._--What? A God who loves men provided that they believe -in him, and who hurls frightful glances and threatenings at him who -does not believe in this love! What? A conditioned love as the feeling -of an almighty God! A love which has not even become master of the -sentiment of honour and of the irritable desire for vengeance! How -Oriental is all that! "If I love thee, what does it concern thee?"[1] -is already a sufficient criticism of the whole of Christianity. - - -142. - -_Frankincense.--Buddha_ says: "Do not flatter thy benefactor!" Let one -repeat this saying in a Christian church:--it immediately purifies the -air. - - -143. - -_The Greatest Utility of Polytheism._--For the individual to set up -his _own_ ideal and derive from it his laws, his pleasures and his -rights--_that_ has perhaps been hitherto regarded as the most monstrous -of all human aberrations, and as idolatry in itself; in fact, the -few who have ventured to do this have always needed to apologise to -themselves, usually in this wise: "Not I! not I! but _a God,_ through -my instrumentality!" It was in the marvellous art and capacity for -creating Gods--in polytheism--that this impulse was permitted to -discharge itself, it was here that it became purified, perfected, and -ennobled; for it was originally a commonplace and unimportant impulse, -akin to stubbornness, disobedience and envy. To be _hostile_ to this -impulse towards the individual ideal,--that was formerly the law of -every morality. There was then only one norm, "the man"--and every -people believed that it _had_ this one and ultimate norm. But above -himself, and outside of himself, in a distant over-world, a person -could see a _multitude of norms:_ the one God was not the denial -or blasphemy of the other Gods! It was here that individuals were -first permitted, it was here that the right of individuals was first -respected. The inventing of Gods, heroes, and supermen of all kinds, -as well as co-ordinate men and undermen--dwarfs, fairies, centaurs, -satyrs, demons, devils--was the inestimable preliminary to the -justification of the selfishness and sovereignty of the individual: the -freedom which was granted to one God in respect to other Gods, was at -last given to the individual himself in respect to laws, customs and -neighbours. Monotheism, on the contrary, the rigid consequence of the -doctrine of one normal human being--consequently the belief in a normal -God, beside whom there are only false, spurious Gods--has perhaps been -the greatest danger of mankind in the past: man was then threatened -by that premature state of inertia, which, so far as we can see, most -of the other species of animals reached long ago, as creatures who -all believed in one normal animal and ideal in their species, and -definitely translated their morality of custom into flesh and blood. In -polytheism man's free-thinking and many-sided thinking had a prototype -set up: the power to create for himself new and individual eyes, always -newer and more individualised: so that these are no _eternal_ horizons -and perspectives. - - -[1] This means that true love does not look for reciprocity. - - -144. - -_Religious Wars._--The greatest advance of the masses hitherto has -been religious war, for it proves that the masses have begun to deal -reverently with conceptions of things. Religious wars only result -when human reason generally has been refined by the subtle disputes -of sects; so that even the populace becomes punctilious and regards -trifles as important, actually thinking it possible that the "eternal -salvation of the soul" may depend upon minute distinctions of concepts. - - -145. - -_Danger of Vegetarians._--The immense prevalence of rice-eating impels -to the use of opium and narcotics, in like manner as the immense -prevalence of potato-eating impels to the use of brandy:--it also -impels, however, in its more subtle after-effects to modes of thought -and feeling which operate narcotically. This is in accord with the fact -that those who promote narcotic modes of thought and feeling, like -those Indian teachers, praise a purely vegetable diet, and would like -to make it a law for the masses: they want thereby to call forth and -augment the need which _they_ are in a position to satisfy. - - -146. - -_German Hopes.--_Do not let us forget that the names of peoples are -generally names of reproach. The Tartars, for example, according to -their name, are "the dogs"; they were so christened by the Chinese. -_"Deutschen"_ (Germans) means originally "heathen": it is thus that the -Goths after their conversion named the great mass of their unbaptized -fellow-tribes, according to the indication in their translation of -the Septuagint, in which the heathen are designated by the word which -in Greek signifies "the nations." (See Ulfilas.)--It might still be -possible for the Germans to make an honourable name ultimately out -of their old name of reproach, by becoming the first _non-Christian_ -nation of Europe; for which purpose Schopenhauer, to their honour, -regarded them as highly qualified. The work of _Luther_ would thus be -consummated,--he who taught them to be anti-Roman, and to say: "Here -_I_ stand! _I_ cannot do otherwise!"-- - - -147. - -_Question and Answer._--What do savage tribes at present accept -first of all from Europeans? Brandy and Christianity, the European -narcotics.--And by what means are they fastest ruined?--By the European -narcotics. - - -148. - -_Where Reformations Originate._--At the time of the great corruption -of the church it was least of all corrupt in Germany: it was on -that account that the Reformation originated _here,_ as a sign that -even the beginnings of corruption were felt to be unendurable. For, -comparatively speaking, no people was ever more Christian than the -Germans at the time of Luther; their Christian culture was just about -to burst into bloom with a hundred-fold splendour,--one night only was -still lacking; but that night brought the storm which put an end to all. - - -149. - -_The Failure of Reformations._--It testifies to the higher culture of -the Greeks, even in rather early ages, that attempts to establish new -Grecian religions frequently failed; it testifies that quite early -there must have been a multitude of dissimilar individuals in Greece, -whose dissimilar troubles were not cured by a single recipe of faith -and hope. Pythagoras and Plato, perhaps also Empedocles, and already -much earlier the Orphic enthusiasts, aimed at founding new religions; -and the two first-named were so endowed with the qualifications for -founding religions, that one cannot be sufficiently astonished at their -failure: they just reached the point of founding sects. Every time that -the Reformation of an entire people fails and only sects raise their -heads, one may conclude that the people already contains many types, -and has begun to free itself from the gross herding instincts and -the morality of, custom,--a momentous state of suspense, which one is -accustomed to disparage as decay of morals and corruption, while it -announces the maturing of the egg and the early rupture of the shell. -That Luther's Reformation succeeded in the north, is a sign that the -north had remained backward in comparison with the south of Europe, and -still had requirements tolerably uniform in colour and kind; and there -would have been no Christianising of Europe at all, if the culture of -the old world of the south had not been gradually barbarized by an -excessive admixture of the blood of German barbarians, and thus lost -its ascendency. The more universally and unconditionally an individual, -or the thought of an individual, can operate, so much more homogeneous -and so much lower must be the mass that is there operated upon; while -counter-strivings betray internal counter-requirements, which also want -to gratify and realise themselves. Reversely, one may always conclude -with regard to an actual elevation of culture, when powerful and -ambitious natures only produce a limited and sectarian effect: this is -true also for the separate arts, and for the provinces of knowledge. -Where there is ruling there are masses: where there are masses there is -need of slavery. Where there is slavery the individuals are but few, -and have the instincts and conscience of the herd opposed to them. - - -150. - -_Criticism of Saints._--Must one then, in order to have a virtue, be -desirous of having it precisely in its most brutal form?--as the -Christian saints desired and needed;--those who only _endured_ life -with the thought that at the sight of their virtue self-contempt might -seize every man. A virtue with such an effect I call brutal. - - -151. - -_The Origin of Religion._--The metaphysical requirement is not the -origin of religions, as Schopenhauer claims, but only a _later sprout_ -from them. Under the dominance of religious thoughts we have accustomed -ourselves to the idea of "another (back, under, or upper) world," and -feel an uncomfortable void and privation through the annihilation -of the religious illusion;--and then "another world" grows out of -this feeling once more, but now it is only a metaphysical world, and -no longer a religious one. That however which in general led to the -assumption of "another world" in primitive times, was _not_ an impulse -or requirement, but an _error_ in the interpretation of certain natural -phenomena, a difficulty of the intellect. - - -152. - -_The greatest Change._--The lustre and the hues of all things have -changed! We no longer quite understand how earlier men conceived of the -most familiar and frequent things,--for example, of the day, and the -awakening in the morning: owing to their belief in dreams the waking -state seemed to them differently illuminated. And similarly of the -whole of life, with its reflection of death and its significance: our -"death" is an entirely different death. All events were of a different -lustre, for a God shone forth in them; and similarly of all resolutions -and peeps into the distant future: for people had oracles, and secret -hints, and believed in prognostication. "Truth" was conceived in quite -a different manner, for the insane could formerly be regarded as its -mouthpiece--a thing which makes _us_ shudder, or laugh. Injustice made -a different impression on the feelings: for people were afraid of -divine retribution, and not only of legal punishment and disgrace. What -joy was there in an age when men believed in the devil and tempter! -What passion was there when people saw demons lurking close at hand! -What philosophy was there when doubt was regarded as sinfulness of the -most dangerous kind, and in fact as an outrage on eternal love, as -distrust of everything good, high, pure, and compassionate!--We have -coloured things anew, we paint them over continually,--but what have we -been able to do hitherto in comparison with the _splendid colouring_ of -that old master!--I mean ancient humanity. - - -153. - -_Homo poeta._--"I myself who have made this tragedy of tragedies -altogether independently, in so far as it is completed; I who have -first entwined the perplexities of morality about existence, and -have tightened them so that only a God could unravel them--so Horace -demands!--I have already in the fourth act killed all the Gods--for the -sake of morality! What is now to be done about the fifth act? Where -shall I get the tragic _dénouement!_ Must I now think about a comic -_dénouement_?" - - -154. - -_Differences in the Dangerousness of Life._--You don't know at all what -you experience; you run through life as if intoxicated, and now and -then fall down a stair. Thanks however to your intoxication you still -do not break your limbs: your muscles are too languid and your head too -confused to find the stones of the staircase as hard as we others do! -For, us life is a greater danger: we are made of glass--alas, if we -should _strike against_ anything! And all is lost if we should _fall_! - - -155. - -_What we Lack._--We love the _grandeur_ of Nature, and have discovered -it; that is because human grandeur is lacking in our minds. It was -the reverse with the Greeks: their feeling towards Nature was quite -different from ours. - - -156. - -_The most Influential Person._--The fact that a person resists the -whole spirit of his age, stops it at the door and calls it to account, -_must_ exert an influence! It is indifferent whether he wishes to exert -an influence; the point is that he _can_. - - -157. - -_Mentiri._--Take care!--he reflects: he will have a lie ready -immediately. This is a stage in the civilisation of whole nations. -Consider only what the Romans expressed by _mentiri!_ - - -158. - -_An Inconvenient Peculiarity._--To find everything deep is an -inconvenient peculiarity: it makes one constantly strain one's eyes, so -that in the end one always finds more than one wishes. - - -159. - -_Every Virtue has its Time._--The honesty of him who is at present -inflexible often causes him remorse; for inflexibility is the virtue of -a time different from that in which honesty prevails. - - -160. - -_In Intercourse with Virtues._--One can also be undignified and -flattering towards a virtue. - - -161. - -_To the Admirers of the Age._--The runaway priest and the liberated -criminal are continually making grimaces; what they want is a look -without a past. But have you ever seen men who know that their looks -reflect the future, and who are so courteous to you, the admirers of -the "age," that they assume a look without a future?-- - - -162. - -_Egoism._--Egoism is the _perspective_ law of our sentiment, according -to which the near appears large and momentous, while in the distance -the magnitude and importance of all things diminish. - - -163. - -_After a Great Victory._--The best thing in a great victory is that -it deprives the conqueror of the fear of defeat. "Why should I not be -worsted for once?" he says to himself, "I am now rich enough to stand -it." - - -164. - -_Those who Seek Repose._--I recognise the minds that seek repose by the -many _dark_ objects with which they surround themselves: those who want -to sleep darken their chambers, or creep into caverns. A hint to those -who do not know what they really seek most, and would like to know! - - -165. - -_The Happiness of Renunciation._--He who has absolutely dispensed with -something for a long time will almost imagine, when he accidentally -meets with it again, that he has discovered it,--and what happiness -every discoverer has! Let us be wiser than the serpents that lie too -long in the same sunshine. - - -166. - -_Always in our own Society._--All that is akin to me in nature and -history speaks to me, praises me, urges me forward and comforts me--: -other things are unheard by me, or immediately forgotten. We are only -in our own society always. - - -167. - -_Misanthropy and Philanthropy._--We only speak about being sick of men -when we can no longer digest them, and yet have the stomach full of -them. Misanthropy is the result of a far too eager philanthropy and -"cannibalism,"--but who ever bade you swallow men like oysters, my -Prince Hamlet? - - -168. - -_Concerning an Invalid._--"Things go badly with him!"--What is -wrong?--" He suffers from the longing to be praised, and finds no -sustenance for it."--Inconceivable! All the world does honour to him, -and he is reverenced not only in deed but in word!--"Certainly, but he -is dull of hearing for the praise. When a friend praises him it sounds -to him as if the friend praised himself; when an enemy praises him, -it sounds to him as if the enemy wanted to be praised for it; when, -finally, some one else praises him--there are by no means so many of -these, he is so famous!--he is offended because they neither want him -for a friend nor for an enemy; he is accustomed to say: 'What do I care -for those who can still pose as the all-righteous towards me!'" - - -169. - -_Avowed Enemies._--Bravery in presence of an enemy is a thing by -itself: a person may possess it and still be a coward and an irresolute -num-skull. That was Napoleon's opinion concerning the "bravest man" he -knew, Murat:--whence it follows that avowed enemies are indispensable -to some men, if they are to attain to _their_ virtue, to their -manliness, to their cheerfulness. - - -170. - -_With, the Multitude._--He has hitherto gone with the multitude and is -its panegyrist; but one day he will be its opponent! For he follows -it in the belief that his laziness will find its advantage thereby: -he has not yet learned that the multitude is not lazy enough for him! -that it always presses forward! that it does not allow any one to stand -still!--And he likes so well to stand still! - - -171. - -_Fame._--When the gratitude of many to one casts aside all shame, then -fame originates. - - -172. - -_The Perverter of Taste._--A: "You are a perverter of taste--they say -so everywhere!" B: "Certainly! I pervert every one's taste for his -party:--no party forgives me for that." - - -173. - -_To be Profound and to Appear Profound._--He who knows that he is -profound strives for clearness; he who would like to appear profound to -the multitude strives for obscurity. The multitude thinks everything -profound of which it cannot see the bottom; it is so timid and goes so -unwillingly into the water. - - -174. - -_Apart._--Parliamentarism, that is to say, the public permission to -choose between five main political opinions, insinuates itself into -the favour of the numerous class who would fain _appear_ independent -and individual, and like to fight for their opinions. After all, -however, it is a matter of indifference whether one opinion is imposed -upon the herd, or five opinions are permitted to it.--He who diverges -from the five public opinions and goes apart, has always the whole herd -against him. - - -175. - -_Concerning Eloquence._--What has hitherto had the most convincing -eloquence? The rolling of the drum: and as long as kings have this at -their command, they will always be the best orators and popular leaders. - - -176. - -_Compassion._--The poor, ruling princes! All their rights now change -unexpectedly into claims, and all these claims immediately sound like -pretensions! And if they but say "we," or "my people," wicked old -Europe begins laughing. Verily, a chief-master-of-ceremonies of the -modern world would make little ceremony with them; perhaps he would -decree that "_les souverains rangent aux parvenus._" - - -177. - -_On "Educational Matters."_--In Germany an important educational means -is lacking for higher men; namely, the laughter of higher men; these -men do not laugh in Germany. - - -178. - -_For Moral Enlightenment_.--The Germans must be talked out of their -Mephistopheles--and out of their Faust also. These are two moral -prejudices against the value of knowledge. - - -179. - -_Thoughts.--_Thoughts are the shadows of our sentiments--always however -obscurer, emptier and simpler. - - -180. - -_The Good Time for Free Spirits._--Free Spirits take liberties even -with regard to Science--and meanwhile they are allowed to do so,--while -the Church still remains!--In so far they have now their good time. - - -181. - -_Following and Leading._--A: "Of the two, the one will always follow, -the other will always lead, whatever be the course of their destiny. -_And yet_ the former is superior to the other in virtue and intellect." -B: "And yet? And yet? That is spoken for the others; not for me, not -for us!--_Fit secundum regulam._" - - -182. - -_In Solitude._--When one lives alone one does not speak too loudly, -and one does not write too loudly either, for one fears the hollow -reverberation--the criticism of the nymph Echo.--And all voices sound -differently in solitude! - - -183. - -_The Music of the Best Future._--The first musician for me would be he -who knew only the sorrow of the profoundest happiness, and no other -sorrow: there has not hitherto been such a musician. - - -184. - -_Justice._--Better allow oneself to be robbed than have scarecrows -around one--that is my taste. And under all circumstances it is just a -matter of taste--and nothing more! - - -185. - -_Poor._--He is now poor, but not because everything has been taken from -him, but because he has thrown everything away:--what does he care? He -is accustomed to find new things.--It is the poor who misunderstand his -voluntary poverty. - - -186. - -_Bad Conscience._--All that he now does is excellent and proper--and -yet he has a bad conscience with it all. For the exceptional is his -task. - - -187. - -_Offensiveness in Expression._--This artist offends me by the way in -which he expresses his ideas, his very excellent ideas: so diffusely -and forcibly, and with such gross rhetorical artifices, as if he -were speaking to the mob. We feel always as if "in bad company" when -devoting some time to his art. - - -188. - -_Work._--How closely work and the workers now stand even to the most -leisurely of us! The royal courtesy in the words: "We are all workers," -would have been a cynicism and an indecency even under Louis XIV. - - -189. - -_The Thinker._--He is a thinker: that is to say, he knows how to take -things more simply than they are. - - -190. - -_Against Eulogisers._--A: "One is only praised by one's equals!" B: -"Yes! And he who praises you says: 'You are my equal!'" - - -191. - -_Against many a Vindication._--The most perfidious manner of injuring a -cause is to vindicate it intentionally with fallacious arguments. - - -192. - -_The Good-natured._--What is it that distinguishes the good-natured, -whose countenances beam kindness, from other people? They feel quite -at ease in presence of a new person, and are quickly enamoured of him; -they therefore wish him well; their first opinion is: "He pleases me." -With them there follow in succession the wish to appropriate (they make -little scruple about the person's worth), rapid appropriation, joy in -the possession, and actions in favour of the person possessed. - - -193. - -_Kant's Joke._--Kant tried to prove, in a way that dismayed -"everybody," that "everybody" was in the right:--that was his secret -joke. He wrote against the learned, in favour of popular prejudice; he -wrote, however, for the learned and not for the people. - - -194. - -_The "Open-hearted" Man._--That man acts probably always from concealed -motives; for he has always communicable motives on his tongue, and -almost in his open hand. - - -195. - -_Laughable!_--See! See! He runs _away_ from men--: they follow him, -however, because he runs _before_ them,--they are such a gregarious lot! - - -196. - -_The Limits of our Sense of Hearing._--We hear only the questions to -which we are capable of finding an answer. - - -197. - -_Caution therefore!_--There is nothing we are fonder of communicating -to others than the seal of secrecy--together with what is under it. - - -198. - -_Vexation of the Proud Man._--The proud man is vexed even with those -who help him forward: he looks angrily at his carriage-horses. - - -199. - -_Liberality._--Liberality is often only a form of timidity in the rich. - - -200. - -_Laughing._--To laugh means to love mischief, but with a good -conscience. - - -201. - -_In Applause._--In applause there is always some kind of noise: even in -self-applause. - - -202. - -_A Spendthrift._--He has not yet the poverty of the rich man who -has counted all his treasure,--he squanders his spirit with the -irrationalness of the spendthrift Nature. - - -203. - -_Hic niger est_.--Usually he has no thoughts,--but in exceptional cases -bad thoughts come to him. - - -204. - -_Beggars and Courtesy._--"One is not discourteous when one knocks at a -door with a stone when the bell-pull is awanting"--so think all beggars -and necessitous persons, but no one thinks they are in the right. - - -205. - -_Need._--Need is supposed to be the cause of things; but in truth it is -often only the result of things. - - -206. - -_During the Rain._--It rains, and I think of the poor people who now -crowd together with their many cares, which they are unaccustomed to -conceal; all of them, therefore, ready and anxious to give pain to one -another, and thus provide themselves with a pitiable kind of comfort, -even in bad weather. This, this only, is the poverty of the poor! - - -207. - -_The Envious Man._--That is an envious man--it is not desirable that he -should have children; he would be envious of them, because he can no -longer be a child. - - -208. - -_A Great Man!_--Because a person is "a great man," we are not -authorised to infer that he is a man. Perhaps he is only a boy, or a -chameleon of all ages, or a bewitched girl. - - -209. - -_A Mode of Asking for Reasons._--There is a mode of asking for our -reasons which not only makes us forget our best reasons, but also -arouses in us a spite and repugnance against reason generally:-a very -stupefying mode of questioning, and really an artifice of tyrannical -men! - - -210. - -_Moderation in Diligence._--One must not be anxious to surpass the -diligence of one's father--that would make one ill. - - -211. - -_Secret Enemies._--To be able to keep a secret enemy--that is a luxury -which the morality even of the highest-minded persons can rarely afford. - - -212. - -_Not Letting oneself be Deluded._--His spirit has bad manners, it is -hasty and always stutters with impatience; so that one would hardly -suspect the deep breathing and the large chest of the soul in which it -resides. - - -213. - -_The Way to Happiness._--A sage asked of a fool the way to happiness. -The fool answered without delay, like one who had been asked the way -to the next town: "Admire yourself, and live on the street!" "Hold," -cried the sage, "you require too much; it suffices to admire oneself!" -The fool replied: "But how can one constantly admire without constantly -despising?" - - -214. - -_Faith Saves._--Virtue gives happiness and a state of blessedness only -to those who have a strong faith in their virtue:--not, however, to -the more refined souls whose virtue consists of a profound distrust of -themselves and of all virtue. After all, therefore, it is "faith that -saves" here also!--and be it well observed, _not_ virtue! - - -215. - -_The Ideal and the Material._--You have a noble ideal before your eyes: -but are you also such a noble stone that such a divine image could be -formed out of you? And without that--is not all your labour barbaric -sculpturing? A blasphemy of your ideal? - - -216. - -_Danger in the Voice._--With a very loud voice a person is almost -incapable of reflecting on subtle matters. - - -217. - -_Cause and Effect._--Before the effect one believes in other causes -than after the effect. - - -218. - -_My Antipathy._--I do not like those people who, in order to produce -an effect, have to burst like bombs, and in whose neighbourhood one is -always in danger of suddenly losing one's hearing--or even something -more. - - -219. - -_The Object of Punishment._--The object of punishment is to improve -him _who punishes,_--that is the ultimate appeal of those who justify -punishment. - - -220. - -_Sacrifice._--The victims think otherwise than the spectators about -sacrifice and sacrificing: but they have never been allowed to express -their opinion. - - -221. - -_Consideration._--Fathers and sons are much more considerate of one -another than mothers and daughters. - - -222. - -_Poet and Liar._--The poet sees in the liar his foster-brother whose -milk he has drunk up; the latter has thus remained wretched, and has -not even attained to a good conscience. - - -223. - -_Vicariousness of the Senses._--"We have also eyes in order to hear -with them,"--said an old confessor who had grown deaf; "and among the -blind he that has the longest ears is king." - - -224. - -_Animal Criticism._--I fear the animals regard man as a being -like themselves, seriously endangered by the loss of sound animal -understanding;--they regard him perhaps as the absurd animal, the -laughing animal, the crying animal, the unfortunate animal. - - -225. - -_The Natural._--"Evil has always had the great effect! And Nature is -evil! Let us therefore be natural!"--so reason secretly the great -aspirants after effect, who are too often counted among great men. - - -226. - -_The Distrustful and their Style._--We say the strongest things simply, -provided people are about us who believe in our strength:--such an -environment educates to "simplicity of style." The distrustful, on the -other hand, speak emphatically; they make things emphatic. - - -227. - -_Fallacy, Fallacy._--He cannot rule himself; therefore that woman -concludes that it will be easy to rule him, and throws out her lines to -catch him;--the poor creature, who in a short time will be his slave. - - -228. - -_Against Mediators._--He who attempts to mediate between two decided -thinkers is rightly called mediocre: he has not an eye for seeing the -unique; similarising and equalising are signs of weak eyes. - - -229. - -_Obstinacy and Loyalty._--Out of obstinacy he holds fast to a cause of -which the questionableness has become obvious,--he calls that, however, -his "loyalty." - - -230. - -_Lack of Reserve._--His whole nature fails to _convince_--that results -from the fact that he has never been reticent about a good action he -has performed. - - -231. - -_The "Plodders."_--Persons slow of apprehension think that slowness -forms part of knowledge. - - -232. - -_Dreaming._--Either one does not dream at all, or one dreams in -an interesting manner. One must learn to be awake in the same -fashion:--either not at all, or in an interesting manner. - - -233. - -_The most Dangerous Point of View._--What I now do, or neglect to do, -is as important _for all that is to come,_ as the greatest event of the -past: in this immense perspective of effects all actions are equally -great and small. - - -234. - -_Consolatory Words of a Musician._--"Your life does not sound into -people's ears: for them you live a dumb life, and all refinements of -melody, all fond resolutions in following or leading the way, are -concealed from them. To be sure you do not parade the thoroughfares -with regimental music,--but these good people have no right to say on -that account that your life is lacking in music. He that hath ears let -him hear." - - -235. - -_Spirit and Character._--Many a one attains his full height of -character, but his spirit is not adapted to the elevation,--and many a -one reversely. - - -236. - -_To Move the Multitude._--Is it not necessary for him who wants to -move the multitude to give a stage representation of himself? Has he -not first to translate himself into the grotesquely obvious, and then -_set forth_ his whole personality and cause in that vulgarised and -simplified fashion? - - -237. - -_The Polite Man._--"He is so polite!"--Yes, he has always a sop -for Cerberus with him, and is so timid that he takes everybody for -Cerberus, even you and me,--that is his "politeness." - - -238. - -_Without Envy._--He is wholly without envy, but there is no merit -therein: for he wants to conquer a land which no one has yet possessed -and hardly any one has even seen. - - -239. - -_The Joyless Person._--A single joyless person is enough to make -constant displeasure and a clouded heaven in a household; and it is -only by a miracle that such a person is lacking!--Happiness is not -nearly such a contagious disease;--how is that? - - -240. - -_On the Sea-Shore._--I would not build myself a house (it is an element -of my happiness not to be a house-owner!). If I had to do so, however, -I should build it, like many of the Romans, right into the sea,--I -should like to have some secrets in common with that beautiful monster. - - -241. - -_Work and Artist._--This artist is ambitious and nothing more; -ultimately, however, his work is only a magnifying-glass, which he -offers to every one who looks in his direction. - - -242. - -_Suum cuique._--However great be my greed of knowledge, I cannot -appropriate aught of things but what already belongs to me,--the -property of others still remains in the things. How is it possible for -a man to be a thief or a robber? - - -243. - -_Origin of "Good" and "Bad."_--He only will devise an improvement who -can feel that "this is not good." - - -244. - -_Thoughts and Words._--Even our thoughts we are unable to render -completely in words. - - -245. - -_Praise in Choice._--The artist chooses his subjects; that is his mode -of praising. - - -246. - -_Mathematics._--We want to carry the refinement and rigour of -mathematics into all the sciences, as far as it is in any way possible, -not in the belief that we shall apprehend things in this way, but in -order thereby to _assert_ our human relation to things. Mathematics is -only a means to general and ultimate human knowledge. - - -247. - -_Habits._--All habits make our hand wittier and our wit unhandier. - - -248. - -_Books._--Of what account is a book that never carries us away beyond -all books? - - -249. - -_The Sigh of the Seeker of Knowledge._--"Oh, my covetousness! In this -soul there is no disinterestedness--but an all-desiring self, which, -by means of many individuals, would fain see as with _its own_ eyes, -and grasp as with _its own_ hands--a self bringing back even the entire -past, and wanting to lose nothing that could in anyway belong to it! -Oh, this flame of my covetousness! Oh, that I were reincarnated in a -hundred individuals!"--He who does not know this sigh by experience, -does not know the passion of the seeker of knowledge either. - - -250. - -_Guilt._--Although the most intelligent judges of the witches, and even -the witches themselves, were convinced of the guilt of witchcraft, the -guilt, nevertheless, was not there. So it is with all guilt. - - -251. - -_Misunderstood Sufferers._--Great natures suffer otherwise than their -worshippers imagine; they suffer most severely from the ignoble, petty -emotions of certain evil moments; in short, from doubt of their own -greatness;--not however from the sacrifices and martyrdoms which their -tasks require of them. As long as Prometheus sympathises with men and -sacrifices himself for them, he is happy and proud in himself; but on -becoming envious of Zeus and of the homage which mortals pay him--then -Prometheus suffers! - - -252. - -_Better to be in Debt._--"Better to remain in debt than to pay with -money which does not bear our stamp!"--that is what our sovereignty -prefers. - - -253. - -_Always at Home._--One day we attain our _goal_--and then refer with -pride to the long journeys we have made to reach it. In truth, we did -not notice that we travelled. We got into the habit of thinking that we -were _at home_ in every place. - - -254. - -_Against Embarrassment._--He who is always thoroughly occupied is rid -of all embarrassment. - - -255. - -_Imitators._--A: "What? You don't want to have imitators?" B: "I -don't want people to do anything _after_ me; I want every one to do -something _before_ himself (as a pattern to himself)--just as _I_ do." -A: "Consequently--?" - - -256. - -_Skinniness._--All profound men have their happiness in imitating -the flying-fish at times, and playing on the crests of the waves; -they think that what is best of all in things is their surface: their -skinniness--_sit venia verbo_. - - -257. - -_From Experience._--A person often does not know how rich he is, until -he learns from experience what rich men even play the thief on him. - - -258. - -_The Deniers of Chance._--No conqueror believes in chance. - - -259. - -_From Paradise._--"Good and Evil are God's prejudices"--said the -serpent. - - -260. - -_One times One._--One only is always in the wrong, but with two truth -begins.--One only cannot prove himself right; but two are already -beyond refutation. - - -261. - -_Originality._--What is originality? To _see_ something that does -not yet bear a name, that cannot yet be named, although it is before -everybody's eyes. As people are usually constituted, it is the name -that first makes a thing generally visible to them.--Original persons -have also for the most part been the namers of things. - - -262. - -_Sub specie æterni._--A: "You withdraw faster and faster from the -living; they will soon strike you out of their lists!"--B: "It is the -only way to participate in the privilege of the dead." A: "In what -privilege?"--B: "No longer having to die." - - -263. - -_Without Vanity._--When we love we want our defects to remain -concealed,--not out of vanity, but lest the person loved should suffer -therefrom. Indeed, the lover would like to appear as a God,--and not -out of vanity either. - - -264. - -_What we Do._--What we do is never understood, but only praised and -blamed. - - -265. - -_Ultimate Scepticism._--But what after all are man's truths?--They are -his _irrefutable_ errors. - - -266. - -_Where Cruelty is Necessary._--He who is great is cruel to his -second-rate virtues and judgments. - - -267. - -_With a high Aim._--With a high aim a person is superior even to -justice, and not only to his deeds and his judges. - - -268. - -_What makes Heroic?_--To face simultaneously one's greatest suffering -and one's highest hope. - - -269. - -_What dost thou Believe in?_--In this: That the weights of all things -must be determined anew. - - -270. - -_What Saith thy Conscience?_--"Thou shalt become what thou art." - - -271. - -_Where are thy Greatest Dangers?_--In pity. - - -272. - -_What dost thou Love in others?_--My hopes. - - -273. - -_Whom dost thou call Bad?_--Him who always wants to put others to shame. - - -274. - -_What dost thou think most humane?_--To spare a person shame. - - -275. - -_What is the Seal of Attained Liberty?_--To be no longer ashamed of -oneself. - - - - -BOOK FOURTH - - -SANCTUS JANUARIUS - - - Thou who with cleaving fiery lances - The stream of my soul from - its ice dost free, - Till with a rush and a roar it advances - To enter with glorious hoping the sea: - Brighter to see and purer ever, - Free in the bonds of thy sweet constraint,-- - So it praises thy wondrous endeavour, - January, thou beauteous saint! - - _Genoa,_ January 1882. - - -276. - -_For the New Year._--I still live, I still think; I must still live, -for I must still think. _Sum, ergo cogito: cogito, ergo sum._ To-day -everyone takes the liberty of expressing his wish and his favourite -thought: well, I also mean to tell what I have wished for myself -to-day, and what thought first crossed my mind this year,--a thought -which ought to be the basis, the pledge and the sweetening of all my -future life! I want more and more to perceive the necessary characters -in things as the beautiful:--I shall thus be one of those who beautify -things. _Amor fati:_ let that henceforth be my love! I do not want to -wage war with the ugly. I do not want to accuse, I do not want even to -accuse the accusers. _Looking aside,_ let that be my sole negation! -And all in all, to sum up: I wish to be at any time hereafter only a -yea-sayer! - - -277. - -_Personal Providence._--There is a certain climax in life, at which, -notwithstanding all our freedom, and however much we may have denied -all directing reason and goodness in the beautiful chaos of existence, -we are once more in great danger of intellectual bondage, and have to -face our hardest test. For now the thought of a personal Providence -first presents itself before us with its most persuasive force, and -has the best of advocates, apparentness, in its favour, now when it -is obvious that all and everything that happens to us always _turns -out for the best._ The life of every day and of every hour seems to be -anxious for nothing else but always to prove this proposition anew; -let it be what it will, bad or good weather, the loss of a friend, -a sickness, a calumny, the non-receipt of a letter, the spraining -of one's foot, a glance into a shop-window, a counter-argument, the -opening of a book, a dream, a deception:--it shows itself immediately, -or very soon afterwards, as something "not permitted to be absent,"--it -is full of profound significance and utility precisely _for us!_ Is -there a more dangerous temptation to rid ourselves of the belief in -the Gods of Epicurus, those careless, unknown Gods, and believe in -some anxious and mean Divinity, who knows personally every little hair -on our heads, and feels no disgust in rendering the most wretched -services? Well--I mean in spite of all this! we want to leave the -Gods alone (and the serviceable genii likewise), and wish to content -ourselves with the assumption that our own practical and theoretical -skilfulness in explaining and suitably arranging events has now reached -its highest point. We do not want either to think too highly of this -dexterity of our wisdom, when the wonderful harmony which results from -playing on our instrument sometimes surprises us too much: a harmony -which sounds too well for us to dare to ascribe it to ourselves. In -fact, now and then there is one who plays _with_ us--beloved Chance: he -leads our hand occasionally, and even the all-wisest Providence could -not devise any finer music than that of which our foolish hand is then -capable. - - -278. - -_The Thought of Death._--It gives me a melancholy happiness to live -in the midst of this confusion of streets, of necessities, of voices: -how much enjoyment, impatience and desire, how much thirsty life and -drunkenness of life comes to light here every moment! And yet it will -soon be so still for all these shouting, lively, life-loving people! -How everyone's shadow, his gloomy travelling-companion stands behind -him! It is always as in the last moment before the departure of an -emigrant-ship: people have more than ever to say to one another, the -hour presses, the ocean with its lonely silence waits impatiently -behind all the noise--so greedy, so certain of its prey! And all, -all, suppose that the past has been nothing, or a small matter, that -the near future is everything: hence this haste, this crying, this -self-deafening and self-overreaching! Everyone wants to be foremost in -this future,--and yet death and the stillness of death are the only -things certain and common to all in this future! How strange that -this sole thing that is certain and common to all, exercises almost -no influence on men, and that they are the _furthest_ from regarding -themselves as the brotherhood of death! It makes me happy to see that -men do not want to think at all of the idea of death! I would fain do -something to make the idea of life even a hundred times _more worthy of -their attention_. - - -279. - -_Stellar Friendship_.--We were friends, and have become strangers to -each other. But this is as it ought to be, and we do not want either -to conceal or obscure the fact, as if we had to be ashamed of it. We -are two ships, each of which has its goal and its course; we may, -to be sure, cross one another in our paths, and celebrate a feast -together as we did before,--and then the gallant ships lay quietly in -one harbour, and in one sunshine, so that it might have been thought -they were already at their goal, and that they had had one goal. But -then the almighty strength of our tasks forced us apart once more into -different seas and into different zones, and perhaps we shall never see -one another again,--or perhaps we may see one another, but not know -one another again; the different seas and suns have altered us! That -we had to become strangers to one another is the law to which we are -_subject_: just by that shall we become more sacred to one another! -Just by that shall the thought of our former friendship become holier! -There is probably some immense, invisible curve and stellar orbit in -which our courses and goals, so widely different, may be _comprehended_ -as small stages of the way,--let us raise ourselves to this thought! -But our life is too short, and our power of vision too limited for us -to be more than friends in the sense of that sublime possibility.--And -so we will _believe_ in our stellar friendship, though we should have -to be terrestrial enemies to one another. - - -280. - -_Architecture for Thinkers._--An insight is needed (and that probably -very soon) as to what is specially lacking in our great cities--namely, -quiet, spacious, and widely extended places for reflection, places -with long, lofty colonnades for bad weather, or for too sunny days, -where no noise of wagons or of shouters would penetrate, and where -a more refined propriety would prohibit loud praying even to the -priest: buildings and situations which as a whole would express the -sublimity of self-communion and seclusion from the world. The time -is past when the Church possessed the monopoly of reflection, when -the _vita contemplativa_ had always in the first place to be the -_vita religiosa:_ and everything that the Church has built expresses -this thought. I know not how we could content ourselves with their -structures, even if they should be divested of their ecclesiastical -purposes: these structures speak a far too pathetic and too biassed -speech, as houses of God and places of splendour for supernatural -intercourse, for us godless ones to be able to think _our thoughts_ in -them. We want to have _ourselves_ translated into stone and plant, we -want to go for a walk in _ourselves_ when we wander in these halls and -gardens. - - -281. - -_Knowing how to Find the End._--Masters of the first rank are -recognised by knowing in a perfect manner how to find the end, in -the whole as well as in the part; be it the end of a melody or of a -thought, be it the fifth act of a tragedy or of a state affair. The -masters of the second degree always become restless towards the end, -and seldom dip down into the sea with such proud, quiet equilibrium -as for example, the mountain-ridge at _Porto fino_--where the Bay of -Genoa sings its melody to an end. - - -282. - -_The Gait._--There are mannerisms of the intellect by which even -great minds betray that they originate from the populace, or from the -semi-populace--it is principally the gait and step, of their thoughts -which betray them; they cannot _walk._ It was thus that even Napoleon, -to his profound chagrin, could not walk "legitimately" and in princely -fashion on occasions when it was necessary to do so properly, as in -great coronation processions and on similar occasions: even there he -was always just the leader of a column--proud and brusque at the same -time, and very self-conscious of it all.--It is something laughable to -see those writers who make the folding robes of their periods rustle -around them: they want to cover their _feet_. - - -283. - -_Pioneers._--I greet all the signs indicating that a more manly and -warlike age is commencing, which will, above all, bring heroism again -into honour! For it has to prepare the way for a yet higher age, -and gather the force which the latter will one day require,--the age -which will carry heroism into knowledge, and _wage war_ for the sake -of ideas and their consequences. For that end many brave pioneers -are now needed, who, however, cannot originate out of nothing,--and -just as little out of the sand and slime of present-day civilisation -and the culture of great cities: men silent, solitary and resolute, -who know how to be content and persistent in invisible activity: men -who with innate disposition seek in all things that which is _to be -overcome_ in them: men to whom cheerfulness, patience, simplicity, and -contempt of the great vanities belong just as much as do magnanimity in -victory and indulgence to the trivial vanities of all the vanquished: -men with an acute and independent judgment regarding all victors, and -concerning the part which chance has played in the winning of victory -and fame: men with their own holidays, their own work-days, and their -own periods of mourning; accustomed to command with perfect assurance, -and equally ready, if need be, to obey, proud in the one case as in -the other, equally serving their own interests: men more imperilled, -more productive, more happy! For believe me!--the secret of realising -the largest productivity and the greatest enjoyment of existence is -_to live in danger!_ Build your cities on the slope of Vesuvius! Send -your ships into unexplored seas! Live in war with your equals and with -yourselves! Be robbers and spoilers, ye knowing ones, as long as ye -cannot be rulers and possessors! The time will soon pass when you -can be satisfied to live like timorous deer concealed in the forests. -Knowledge will finally stretch out her hand for that which belongs to -her:--she means to _rule_ and _possess,_ and you with her! - - -284. - -_Belief in Oneself_--In general, few men have belief in -themselves:--and of those few some are endowed with it as a useful -blindness or partial obscuration of intellect (what would they perceive -if they could see _to the bottom of themselves!_). The others must -first acquire the belief for themselves: everything good, clever, or -great that they do, is first of all an argument against the sceptic -that dwells in them: the question is how to convince or persuade _this -sceptic,_ and for that purpose genius almost is needed. They are -signally dissatisfied with themselves. - - -285. - -_Excelsior!_--"Thou wilt never more pray, never more worship, never -more repose in infinite trust--thou refusest to stand still and -dismiss thy thoughts before an ultimate wisdom, an ultimate virtue, an -ultimate power,--thou hast no constant guardian and friend in thy seven -solitudes--thou livest without the outlook on a mountain that has snow -on its head and fire in its heart--there is no longer any requiter for -thee, nor any amender with, his finishing touch--there is no longer any -reason in that which happens, or any love in that which will happen -to thee--there is no longer any resting-place for thy weary heart, -where it has only to find and no longer to seek, thou art opposed to -any kind of ultimate peace, thou desirest the eternal recurrence of -war and peace:--man of renunciation, wilt thou renounce in all these -things? Who will give thee the strength to do so? No one has yet had -this strength!"--There is a lake which one day refused to flow away, -and threw up a dam at the place where it had hitherto discharged: since -then this lake has always risen higher and higher. Perhaps the very -renunciation will also furnish us with the strength with which the -renunciation itself can be borne; perhaps man will ever rise higher and -higher from that point onward, when he no longer _flows out_ into a God. - - -286. - -_A Digression._--Here are hopes; but what will you see and hear of -them, if you have not experienced glance and glow and dawn of day in -your own souls? I can only suggest--I cannot do more! To move the -stones, to make animals men--would you have me do that? Alas, if you -are yet stones and animals, you must seek your Orpheus! - - -287. - -_Love of Blindness._--"My thoughts," said the wanderer to his shadow, -"ought to show me where I stand, but they should not betray to me -_whither I go._ I love ignorance of the future, and do not want to come -to grief by impatience and anticipatory tasting of promised things." - - -288. - -_Lofty Moods._--It seems to me that most men do not believe in lofty -moods, unless it be for the moment, or at the most for a quarter of -an hour,--except the few who know by experience a longer duration of -high feeling. But to be absolutely a man with a single lofty feeling, -the incarnation of a single lofty mood--that has hitherto been only a -dream and an enchanting possibility: history does not yet give us any -trustworthy example of it Nevertheless one might also some day produce -such men--when a multitude of favourable conditions have been created -and established, which at present even the happiest chance is unable to -throw together. Perhaps that very state which has hitherto entered into -our soul as an exception, felt with horror now and then, may be the -usual condition of those future souls: a continuous movement between -high and low, and the feeling of high and low, a constant state of -mounting as on steps, and at the same time reposing as on clouds. - - -289. - -_Aboard Ship!_--When one considers how a full philosophical -justification of his mode of living and thinking operates upon every -individual--namely, as a warming, blessing, and fructifying sun, -specially shining on him; how it makes him independent of praise and -blame, self-sufficient, rich and generous in the bestowal of happiness -and kindness; how it unceasingly transforms the evil to the good, -brings all the energies to bloom and maturity, and altogether hinders -the growth of the greater and lesser weeds of chagrin and discontent ---one at last cries out importunately: Oh, that many such new suns were -created! The evil man, also, the unfortunate man, and the exceptional -man, shall each have his philosophy, his rights, and his sunshine! It -is not sympathy with them that is necessary!--we must unlearn this -arrogant fancy, notwithstanding that humanity has so long learned -it and used it exclusively,--we have not to set up any confessor, -exorcist, or pardoner for them! It is a new _justice,_ however, that is -necessary! And a new solution! And new philosophers! The moral earth -also is round! The moral earth also has its antipodes! The antipodes -also have their right to exist! there is still another world to -discover--and more than one! Aboard ship! ye philosophers! - - -290. - -_One Thing is Needful_--To "give style" to one's character--that is -a grand and a rare art! He who surveys all that his nature presents -in its strength and in its weakness, and then fashions it into an -ingenious plan, until everything appears artistic and rational, and -even the weaknesses enchant the eye--exercises that admirable art. Here -there has been a great amount of second nature added, there a portion -of first nature has been taken away:--in both cases with long exercise -and daily labour at the task. Here the ugly, which does not permit of -being taken away, has been concealed, there it has been re-interpreted -into the sublime. Much of the vague, which refuses to take form, has -been reserved and utilised for the perspectives:--it is meant to give -a hint of the remote and immeasurable. In the end, when the work has -been completed, it is revealed how it was the constraint of the same -taste that organised and fashioned it in whole and in part: whether -the taste was good or bad is of less importance than one thinks,--it -is sufficient that it was _a taste!_--It will be the strong imperious -natures which experience their most refined joy in such constraint, in -such confinement and perfection under their own law; the passion of -their violent volition lessens at the sight of all disciplined nature, -all conquered and ministering nature: even when they have palaces to -build and gardens to lay out, it is not to their taste to allow nature -to be free.--It is the reverse with weak characters who have not power -over themselves, and _hate_ the restriction of style: they feel that if -this repugnant constraint were laid upon them, they would necessarily -become _vulgarised_ under it: they become slaves as soon as they serve, -they hate service. Such intellects--they may be intellects of the first -rank--are always concerned with fashioning and interpreting themselves -and their surroundings as _free_ nature--wild, arbitrary, fantastic, -confused and surprising: and it is well for them to do so, because only -in this manner can they please themselves! For one thing is needful: -namely, that man should _attain to_ satisfaction with himself--be it -but through this or that fable and artifice: it is only then that man's -aspect is at all endurable! He who is dissatisfied with himself is -ever ready to avenge himself on that account: we others will be his -victims, if only in having always to endure his ugly aspect. For the -aspect of the ugly makes one mean and sad. - - -291. - -_Genoa._--I have looked upon this city, its villas and -pleasure-grounds, and the wide circuit of its inhabited heights and -slopes, for a considerable time: in the end I must say that I see -_countenances_ out of past generations,--this district is strewn with -the images of bold and autocratic men. They have _lived_ and have -wanted to live on--they say so with their houses, built and decorated -for centuries, and not for the passing hour: they were well disposed -to life, however ill-disposed they may often have been towards -themselves. I always see the builder, how he casts his eye on all -that is built around him far and near, and likewise on the city, the -sea, and the chain of mountains; how he expresses power and conquest -with his gaze: all this he wishes to fit into _his_ plan, and in the -end make it his _property,_ by its becoming a portion of the same. -The whole district is overgrown with this superb, insatiable egoism -of the desire to possess and exploit; and as these men when abroad -recognised no frontiers, and in their thirst for the new placed a new -world beside the old, so also at home everyone rose up against everyone -else, and devised some mode of expressing his superiority, and of -placing between himself and his neighbour his personal illimitableness. -Everyone won for himself his home once more by over-powering it with -his architectural thoughts, and by transforming it into a delightful -sight for his race. When we consider the mode of building cities in -the north, the law and the general delight in legality and obedience, -impose upon us: we thereby divine the propensity to equality and -submission which must have ruled in those builders. Here, however, on -turning every corner you find a man by himself, who knows the sea, -knows adventure, and knows the Orient, a man who is averse to law and -to neighbour, as if it bored him to have to do with them, a man who -scans all that is already old and established, with envious glances: -with a wonderful craftiness of fantasy, he would like, at least in -thought, to establish all this anew, to lay his hand upon it, and -introduce his meaning into it--if only for the passing hour of a sunny -afternoon, when for once his insatiable and melancholy soul feels -satiety, and when only what is his own, and nothing strange, may show -itself to his eye. - - -292. - -_To the Preachers of Morality._--I do not mean to moralise, but to -those who do, I would give this advice: if you mean ultimately to -deprive the best things and the best conditions of all honour and -worth, continue to speak of them in the same way as heretofore! Put -them at the head of your morality, and speak from morning till night -of the happiness of virtue, of repose of soul, of righteousness, and -of reward and punishment in the nature of things: according as you -go on in this manner, all these good things will finally acquire a -popularity and a street-cry for themselves: but then all the gold on -them will also be worn off, and more besides: all the gold _in them_ -will have changed into lead. Truly, you understand the reverse art of -alchemy, the depreciating of the most valuable things! Try, just for -once, another recipe, in order not to realise as hitherto the opposite -of what you mean to attain: _deny_ those good things, withdraw from -them the applause of the populace and discourage the spread of them, -make them once more the concealed chastities of solitary souls, and -say: _morality is something forbidden!_ Perhaps you will thus attract -to your cause the sort of men who are only of any account, I mean the -_heroic._ But then there must be something formidable in it, and not -as hitherto something disgusting I Might one not be inclined to say at -present with reference to morality what Master Eckardt says: "I pray -God to deliver me from God!" - - -293. - -_Our Atmosphere._--We know it well: in him who only casts a glance now -and then at science, as when taking a walk (in the manner of women, -and alas! also like many artists), the strictness in its service, -its inexorability in small matters as well as in great, its rapidity -in weighing, judging and condemning, produce something of a feeling -of giddiness and fright. It is especially terrifying to him that the -hardest is here demanded, that the best is done without the reward of -praise or distinction; it is rather as among soldiers--almost nothing -but blame and sharp reprimand _is heard_; for doing well prevails here -as the rule, doing ill as the exception; the rule, however, has, here -as everywhere, a silent tongue. It is the same with this "severity of -science" as with the manners and politeness of the best society: it -frightens the uninitiated. He, however, who is accustomed to it, does -not like to live anywhere but in this clear, transparent, powerful, and -highly electrified atmosphere, this _manly_ atmosphere. Anywhere else -it is not pure and airy enough for him: he suspects that _there_ his -best art would neither be properly advantageous to anyone else, nor a -delight to himself, that through misunderstandings half of his life -would slip through his fingers, that much foresight, much concealment, -and reticence would constantly be necessary,--nothing but great and -useless losses of power! In _this_ keen and clear element, however, -he has his entire power: here he can fly! Why should he again go down -into those muddy waters where he has to swim and wade and soil his -wings!--No! There it is too hard for us to live! we cannot help it that -we are born for the atmosphere, the pure atmosphere, we rivals of the -ray of light; and that we should like best to ride like it on the atoms -of ether, not away from the sun, but _towards the sun_! That, however, -we cannot do:--so we want to do the only thing that is in our power: -namely, to bring light to the earth, we want to be "the light of the -earth!" And for that purpose we have our wings and our swiftness and -our severity, on that account we are manly, and even terrible like the -fire. Let those fear us, who do not know how to warm and brighten -themselves by our influence! - - -294. - -_Against the Disparagers of Nature._--They are disagreeable to me, -those men in whom every natural inclination forthwith becomes a -disease, something disfiguring, or even disgraceful. _They_ have -seduced us to the opinion that the inclinations and impulses of men are -evil; _they_ are the cause of our great injustice to our own nature, -and to all nature! There are enough of men who _may_ yield to their -impulses gracefully and carelessly: but they do not do so, for fear -of that imaginary "evil thing" in nature! _That is the cause_ why -there is so little nobility to be found among men: the indication of -which will always be to have no fear of oneself, to expect nothing -disgraceful from oneself, to fly without hesitation whithersoever we -are impelled--we free-born birds! Wherever we come, there will always -be freedom and sunshine around us. - - -295. - -_Short-lived Habits._--I love short-lived habits, and regard them as an -invaluable means for getting a knowledge of _many_ things and various -conditions, to the very bottom of their sweetness and bitterness; my -nature is altogether arranged for short-lived habits, even in the needs -of its bodily health, and in general, _as far as_ I can see, from the -lowest up to the highest matters. I always think that _this_ will at -last satisfy me permanently (the short-lived habit has also this -characteristic belief of passion, the belief in everlasting duration; -I am to be envied for having found it and recognised it), and then it -nourishes me at noon and at eve, and spreads a profound satisfaction -around me and in me, so that I have no longing for anything else, not -needing to compare, or despise, or hate. But one day the habit has had -its time: the good thing separates from me, not as something which then -inspires disgust in me--but peaceably, and as though satisfied with -me, as I am with it; as if we had to be mutually thankful, and _thus_ -shook hands for farewell. And already the new habit waits at the door, -and similarly also my belief--indestructible fool and sage that I -am!--that this new habit will be the right one, the ultimate right one. -So it is with me as regards foods, thoughts, men, cities, poems, music, -doctrines, arrangements of the day, and modes of life.--On the other -hand, I hate _permanent_ habits, and feel as if a tyrant came into -my neighbourhood, and as if my life's breath _condensed,_ when events -take such a form that permanent habits seem necessarily to grow out -of them: for example, through an official position, through constant -companionship with the same persons, through a settled abode, or -through a uniform state of health. Indeed, from the bottom of my soul I -am gratefully disposed to all my misery and sickness, and to whatever -is imperfect in me, because such things leave me a hundred back-doors -through which I can escape from permanent habits. The most unendurable -thing, to be sure, the really terrible thing, would be a life without -habits, a life which continually required improvisation:--that would -be my banishment and my Siberia. - - -296. - -_A Fixed Reputation._--A fixed reputation was formerly a matter of -the very greatest utility; and wherever society continues to be -ruled by the herd-instinct, it is still most suitable for every -individual _to give_ to his character and business _the appearance_ -of unalterableness,--even when they are not so in reality. "One can -rely on him, he remains the same"--that is the praise which has most -significance in all dangerous conditions of society. Society feels with -satisfaction that it has a reliable _tool_ ready at all times in the -virtue of this one, in the ambition of that one, and in the reflection -and passion of a third one,--it honours this _tool-like nature,_ this -self-constancy, this unchangeableness in opinions, efforts, and even in -faults, with the highest honours. Such a valuation, which prevails and -has prevailed everywhere simultaneously with the morality of custom, -educates "characters," and brings all changing, re-learning, and -self-transforming into _disrepute._ Be the advantage of this mode of -thinking ever so great otherwise, it is in any case the mode of judging -which is most injurious _to knowledge:_ for precisely the good-will of -the knowing one ever to declare himself unhesitatingly as _opposed_ to -his former opinions, and in general to be distrustful of all that wants -to be fixed in him--is here condemned and brought into disrepute. The -disposition of the thinker, as incompatible with a "fixed reputation," -is regarded as _dishonourable,_ while the petrifaction of opinions has -all the honour to itself:--we have at present still to live under the -interdict of such rules! How difficult it is to live when one feels -that the judgment of many millenniums is around one and against one. It -is probable that for many millenniums knowledge was afflicted with a -bad conscience, and there must have been much self-contempt and secret -misery in the history of the greatest intellects. - - -297. - -_Ability to Contradict_--Everyone knows at present that the ability, -to endure contradiction is a good indication of culture. Some people -even know that the higher man courts opposition, and provokes it, so as -to get a cue to his hitherto unknown partiality. But the _ability_ to -contradict, the attainment of a _good_ conscience in hostility to the -accustomed, the traditional and the hallowed,--that is more than both -the above-named abilities, and is the really great, new and astonishing -thing in our culture, the step of all steps of the emancipated -intellect: who knows that?-- - - -298. - -_A Sigh._--I caught this notion on the way, and rapidly took the -readiest, poor words to hold it fast, so that it might not again fly -away. But it has died in these dry words, and hangs and flaps about in -them--and now I hardly know, when I look upon it, how I could have had -such happiness when I caught this bird. - - -299. - -_What one should Learn from Artists._--What means have we for making -things beautiful, attractive, and desirable, when they are not so?--and -I suppose they are never so in themselves! We have here something to -learn from physicians, when, for example, they dilute what is bitter, -or put wine and sugar into their mixing-bowl; but we have still more to -learn from artists, who in fact, are continually concerned in devising -such inventions and artifices. To withdraw from things until one no -longer sees much of them, until one has even to see things into them, -_in order to see them at all_--or to view them from the side, and as in -a frame--or to place them so that they partly disguise themselves and -only permit of perspective views--or to look at them through coloured -glasses, or in the light of the sunset--or to furnish them with a -surface or skin which is not fully transparent: we should learn all -this from artists, and moreover be wiser than they. For this fine power -of theirs usually ceases with them where art ceases and life begins; -_we,_ however, want to be the poets of our lives, and first of all in -the smallest and most commonplace matters. - - -300. - -_Prelude to Science._--Do you believe then that the sciences would -have arisen and grown up if the sorcerers, alchemists, astrologers -and witches had not been their forerunners; those who, with their -promisings and foreshadowings, had first to create a thirst, a hunger, -and a taste for _hidden and forbidden_ powers? Yea, that infinitely -more had to be _promised_ than could ever be fulfilled, in order that -something might be fulfilled in the domain of knowledge? Perhaps -the whole of _religion,_ also, may appear to some distant age as an -exercise and a prelude, in like manner as the prelude and preparation -of science here exhibit themselves, though _not_ at all practised and -regarded as such. Perhaps religion may have been the peculiar means for -enabling individual men to enjoy but once the entire self-satisfaction -of a God and all his self-redeeming power. Indeed!--one may ask--would -man have learned at all to get on the tracks of hunger and thirst -for _himself,_ and to extract satiety and fullness out of _himself,_ -without that religious schooling and preliminary history? Had -Prometheus first to _fancy_ that he had _stolen_ the light, and that he -did penance for the theft,--in order finally to discover that he had -created the light, _in that he had longed for the light,_ and that not -only man, but also _God,_ had been the work of _his_ hands and the clay -in his hands? All mere creations of the creator?--just as the illusion, -the theft, the Caucasus, the vulture, and the whole tragic Prometheia -of all thinkers? - - -301. - -_Illusion of the Contemplative._--Higher men are distinguished from -lower, by seeing and hearing immensely more, and in a thoughtful -manner--and it is precisely this that distinguishes man from the -animal, and the higher animal from the lower. The world always becomes -fuller for him who grows up to the full stature of humanity; there are -always more interesting fishing-hooks, thrown out to him; the number of -his stimuli is continually on the increase, and similarly the varieties -of his pleasure and pain,--the higher man becomes always at the same -time happier and unhappier. An _illusion,_ however, is his constant -accompaniment all along: he thinks he is placed as a _spectator_ and -_auditor_ before the great pantomime and concert of life; he calls his -nature a _contemplative nature,_ and thereby overlooks the fact that -he himself is also a real creator, and continuous poet of life,--that -he no doubt differs greatly from the _actor_ in this drama, the -so-called practical man, but differs still more from a mere onlooker or -spectator _before_ the stage. There is certainly _vis contemplativa,_ -and re-examination of his work peculiar to him as poet, but at the -same time, and first and foremost, he has the _vis creativa,_ which -the practical man or doer _lacks,_ whatever appearance and current -belief may say to the contrary. It is we, who think and feel, that -actually and unceasingly _make_ something which did not before exist: -the whole eternally increasing world of valuations, colours, weights, -perspectives, gradations, affirmations and negations. This composition -of ours is continually learnt, practised, and translated into flesh and -actuality, and even into the commonplace, by the so-called practical -men (our actors, as we have said). Whatever has _value_ in the -present world, has not it in itself, by its nature,--nature is always -worthless:--but a value was once given to it, bestowed upon it and it -was _we_ who gave and bestowed! We only have created the world _which -is of any account to man!_--But it is precisely this knowledge that we -lack, and when we get hold of it for a moment we have forgotten it the -next: we misunderstand our highest power, we contemplative men, and -estimate ourselves at too low a rate,--we are neither as _proud nor as -happy_ as we might be. - - -302. - -_The Danger of the Happiest Ones._--To have fine senses and a fine -taste; to be accustomed to the select and the intellectually best as -our proper and readiest fare; to be blessed with a strong, bold, and -daring soul; to go through life with a quiet eye and a firm step, -ever ready for the worst as for a festival, and full of longing for -undiscovered worlds and seas, men and Gods; to listen to all joyous -music, as if there perhaps brave men, soldiers and seafarers, took a -brief repose and enjoyment, and in the profoundest pleasure of the -moment were overcome with tears and the whole purple melancholy of -happiness: who would not like all this to be _his_ possession, his -condition! It was the _happiness of Homerr_! The condition of him who -invented the Gods for the Greeks,--nay, who invented _his_ Gods for -himself! But let us not conceal the fact that with this happiness of -Homer in one's soul, one is more liable to suffering than any other -creature under the sun! And only at this price do we purchase the most -precious pearl that the waves of existence have hitherto washed ashore! -As its possessor one always becomes more sensitive to pain, and at -last too sensitive: a little displeasure and loathing sufficed in the -end to make Homer disgusted with life. He was unable to solve a foolish -little riddle which some young fishers proposed to him! Yes, the little -riddles are the dangers of the happiest ones!-- - - -303. - -_Two Happy Ones._--Certainly this man, notwithstanding his youth, -understands the _improvisation of life,_ and astonishes even the -acutest observers. For it seems that he never makes a mistake, -although he constantly plays the most hazardous games. One is reminded -of the improvising masters of the musical art, to whom even the -listeners would fain ascribe a divine _infallibility_ of the hand, -notwithstanding that they now and then make a mistake, as every mortal -is liable to do. But they are skilled and inventive, and always ready -in a moment to arrange into the structure of the score the most -accidental tone (where the jerk of a finger or a humour brings it -about), and to animate the accident with a fine meaning and soul.--Here -is quite a different man: everything that he intends and plans fails -with him in the long run. That on which he has now and again set his -heart has already brought him several times to the abyss, and to the -very verge of ruin; and if he has as yet got out of the scrape, it -certainly has not been merely with a "black eye." Do you think he is -unhappy over it? He resolved long ago not to regard his own wishes and -plans as of so much importance. "If this does not succeed with me," -he says to himself, "perhaps that will succeed; and on the whole I do -not know but that I am under more obligation to thank my failures than -any of my successes. Am I made to be headstrong, and to wear the bull's -horns? That which constitutes the worth and the sum of life _for me,_ -lies somewhere else; I know more of life, because I have been so often -on the point of losing it; and just on that account I _have_ more of -life than any of you!" - - -304. - -_In Doing we Leave Undone._--In the main all those moral systems are -distasteful to me which say: "Do not do this! Renounce! Overcome -thyself!" On the other hand I am favourable to those moral systems -which stimulate me to do something, and to do it again from morning -till evening, to dream of it at night, and think of nothing else but to -do it _well,_ as well as is possible for _me_ alone! From him who so -lives there fall off one after the other the things that do not pertain -to such a life: without hatred or antipathy, he sees _this_ take leave -of him to-day, and _that_ to-morrow, like the yellow leaves which every -livelier breeze strips from the tree: or he does not see at all that -they take leave of him, so firmly is his eye fixed upon his goal, and -generally forward, not sideways, backward, or downward. "Our doing must -determine what we leave undone; in that we do, we leave undone"--so -it pleases me, so runs _my placitum._ But I do not mean to strive with -open eyes for my impoverishment; I do not like any of the negative -virtues whose very essence is negation and self-renunciation. - - -305. - -_Self-control--_Those moral teachers who first and foremost order man -to get himself into his own power, induce thereby a curious infirmity -in him--namely, a constant sensitiveness with reference to all natural -strivings and inclinations, and as it were, a sort of itching. Whatever -may henceforth drive him, draw him, allure or impel him, whether -internally or externally--it always seems to this sensitive being as if -his self-control were in danger: he is no longer at liberty to trust -himself to any instinct, to any free flight, but stands constantly with -defensive mien, armed against himself, with sharp distrustful eye, the -eternal watcher of his stronghold, to which office he has appointed -himself. Yes, he can be _great_ in that position! But how unendurable -he has now become to others, how difficult even for himself to bear, -how impoverished and cut off from the finest accidents of his soul! -Yea, even from all further _instruction! _ For we must be able to lose -ourselves at times, if we want to learn something of what we have not -in ourselves. - - -306. - -_Stoic and Epicurean._--The Epicurean selects the situations, the -persons, and even the events which suits his extremely sensitive, -intellectual constitution; he renounces the rest--that is to say, by -far the greater part of experience--because it would be too strong and -too heavy fare for him. The Stoic, on the contrary, accustoms himself -to swallow stones and vermin, glass-splinters and scorpions, without -feeling any disgust: his stomach is meant to become indifferent in the -end to all that the accidents of existence cast into it:--he reminds -one of the Arabic sect of the Assaua, with which the French became -acquainted in Algiers; and like those insensible persons, he also likes -well to have an invited public at the exhibition of his insensibility, -the very thing the Epicurean willingly dispenses with:--he has of -course his "garden"! Stoicism may be quite advisable for men with whom -fate improvises, for those who live in violent times and are dependent -on abrupt and changeable individuals. He, however, who _anticipates_ -that fate will permit him to spin "a long thread," does well to make -his arrangements in Epicurean fashion; all men devoted to intellectual -labour have done it hitherto! For it would be a supreme loss to them to -forfeit their fine sensibility, and to acquire the hard, stoical hide -with hedgehog prickles in exchange. - - -307. - -_In Favour of Criticism._--Something now appears to thee as an error -which thou formerly lovedst as a truth, or as a probability: thou -pushest it from thee and imaginest that thy reason has there gained a -victory. But perhaps that error was then, when thou wast still another -person--thou art always another person,--just as necessary to thee as -all thy present "truths," like a skin, as it were, which concealed and -veiled from thee much which thou still mayst not see. Thy new life, -and not thy reason, has slain that opinion for thee: _thou dost not -require it any longer,_ and now it breaks down of its own accord, and -the irrationality crawls out of it as a worm into the light. When we -make use of criticism it is not something arbitrary and impersonal,--it -is, at least very often, a proof that there are lively, active forces -in us, which cast a skin. We deny, and must deny, because something in -us _wants_ to live and affirm itself, something which we perhaps do not -as yet know, do not as yet see!--So much in favour of criticism. - - -308. - -_The History of each Day.--_What is it that constitutes the history -of each day for thee? Look at thy habits of which it consists: are -they the product of numberless little acts of cowardice and laziness, -or of thy bravery and inventive reason? Although the two cases are so -different, it is possible that men might bestow the same praise upon -thee, and that thou mightst also be equally useful to them in the one -case as in the other. But praise and utility and respectability may -suffice for him whose only desire is to have a good conscience,--not -however for thee, the "trier of the reins," who hast a _consciousness -of the conscience!_ - - -309. - -_Out of the Seventh Solitude._--One day the wanderer shut a door behind -him, stood still, and wept. Then he said: "Oh, this inclination and -impulse towards the true, the real, the non-apparent, the certain! How -I detest it! Why does this gloomy and passionate taskmaster follow -just _me?_ I should like to rest, but it does not permit me to do so. -Are there not a host of things seducing me to tarry! Everywhere there -are gardens of Armida for me, and therefore there will ever be fresh -separations and fresh bitterness of heart! I must set my foot forward, -my weary wounded foot: and because I feel I must do this, I often cast -grim glances back at the most beautiful things which could not detain -me--_because_ they could not detain me!" - - -310. - -_Will and Wave._--How eagerly this wave comes hither, as if it were -a question of its reaching something! How it creeps with frightful -haste into the innermost corners of the rocky cliff! It seems that -it wants to forestall some one; it seems that something is concealed -there that has value, high value.--And now it retreats somewhat more -slowly, still quite white with excitement,--is it disappointed? Has it -found what it sought? Does it merely pretend to be disappointed?--But -already another wave approaches, still more eager and wild than the -first, and its soul also seems to be full of secrets, and of longing -for treasure-seeking. Thus live the waves,--thus live we who exercise -will!--I do not say more.--But what! Ye distrust me? Ye are angry at -me, ye beautiful monsters? Do ye fear that I will quite betray your -secret? Well! Just be angry with me, raise your green, dangerous -bodies as high as ye can, make a wall between me and the sun--as at -present! Verily, there is now nothing more left of the world save -green twilight and green lightning-flashes. Do as ye will, ye wanton -creatures, roar with delight and wickedness--or dive under again, pour -your emeralds down into the depths, and cast your endless white tresses -of foam and spray over them--it is all the same to me, for all is so -well with you, and I am so pleased with you for it all: how could I -betray _you!_ For--take this to heart!--I know you and your secret, I -know your race! You and I are indeed of one race! You and I have indeed -one secret! - - -311. - -_Broken Lights._--We are not always brave, and when we are weary, -people of our stamp are liable to lament occasionally in this -wise:--"It is so hard to cause pain to men--oh, that it should be -necessary! What good is it to live concealed, when we do not want to -keep to ourselves that which causes vexation? Would it not be more -advisable to live in the madding crowd, and compensate individuals -for sins that are committed, and must be committed, against mankind -in general? Foolish with fools, vain with the vain, enthusiastic -with enthusiasts? Would that not be reasonable when there is such -an inordinate amount of divergence in the main? When I hear of the -malignity of others against me--is not my first feeling that of -satisfaction? It is well that it should be so!--I seem to myself to say -to them--I am so little in harmony with you, and have so much truth -on my side: see henceforth that ye be merry at my expense as often as -ye can! Here are my defects and mistakes, here are my illusions, my -bad taste, my confusion, my tears, my vanity, my owlish concealment, -my contradictions! Here you have something to laugh at! Laugh then, -and enjoy yourselves! I am not averse to the law and nature of things, -which is that defects and errors should give pleasure!--To be sure, -there were once 'more glorious' times, when as soon as any one got -an idea, however moderately new it might be, he would think himself -so _indispensable_ as to go out into the street with it, and call to -everybody: 'Behold! the kingdom of heaven is at hand!'--I should not -miss myself, if I were a-wanting. We are none of us indispensable!"--As -we have said, however, we do not think thus when we are brave; we do -not think _about it_ at all. - - -312. - -_My Dog._--I have given a name to my pain, and call it "a dog,"--it -is just as faithful, just as importunate and shameless, just as -entertaining, just as wise, as any other dog--and I can domineer -over it, and vent my bad humour on it, as others do with their dogs, -servants, and wives. - - -313. - -_No Picture of a Martyr._--I will take my cue from Raphael, and not -paint any more martyr-pictures. There are enough of sublime things -without its being necessary to seek sublimity where it is linked with -cruelty; moreover my ambition would not be gratified in the least if I -aspired to be a sublime executioner. - - -314. - -_New Domestic Animals._--I want to have my lion and my eagle about me, -that I may always have hints and premonitions concerning the amount of -my strength or weakness. Must I look down on them to-day, and be afraid -of them? And will the hour come once more when they will look up to me, -and tremble?-- - - -315. - -_The Last Hour._--Storms are my danger. Shall I have my storm in which -I perish, as Oliver Cromwell perished in his storm? Or shall I go out -as a light does, not first blown out by the wind, but grown tired and -weary of itself--a burnt-out light? Or finally, shall I blow myself -out, so as _not to burn out?_ - - -316. - -_Prophetic Men._--Ye cannot divine how sorely prophetic men suffer: ye -think only that a fine "gift" has been given to them, and would fain -have it yourselves,--but I will express my meaning by a simile. How -much may not the animals suffer from the electricity of the atmosphere -and the clouds! Some of them, as we see, have a prophetic faculty with -regard to the weather, for example, apes (as one can observe very well -even in Europe,--and not only in menageries, but at Gibraltar). But -it never occurs to us that it is their _sufferings_--that are their -prophets! When strong positive electricity, under the influence of -an approaching cloud not at all visible, is suddenly converted into -negative electricity, and an alteration of the weather is imminent, -these animals then behave as if an enemy were approaching them, and -prepare for defence, or flight: they generally hide themselves,--they -do not think of the bad weather as weather, but as an enemy whose hand -they already _feel!_ - - -317. - -_Retrospect._--We seldom become conscious of the real pathos of any -period of life as such, as long as we continue in it, but always -think it is the only possible and reasonable thing for us henceforth, -and that it is altogether _ethos_ and not _pathos_[1]--to speak and -distinguish like the Greeks. A few notes of music to-day recalled a -winter and a house, and a life of utter solitude to my mind, and at the -same time the sentiments in which I then lived: I thought I should be -able to live in such a state always. But now I understand that it was -entirely pathos and passion, something comparable to this painfully -bold and truly comforting music,--it is not one's lot to have these -sensations for years, still less for eternities: otherwise one would -become too "ethereal" for this planet. - - -[1] The distinction between ethos and pathos in Aristotle is, broadly, -that between internal character and external circumstance.--P. V. C. - - -318. - -_Wisdom in Pain._--In pain there is as much wisdom as in pleasure: -like the latter it is one of the best self-preservatives of a species. -Were it not so, pain would long ago have been done away with; that it -is hurtful is no argument against it, for to be hurtful is its very -essence. In pain I hear the commanding call of the ship's captain: -"Take in sail!" "Man," the bold seafarer, must have learned to set -his sails in a thousand different ways, otherwise he could not have -sailed long, for the ocean would soon have swallowed him up. We must -also know how to live with reduced energy: as soon as pain gives its -precautionary signal, it is time to reduce the speed--some great -danger, some storm, is approaching, and we do well to "catch" as little -wind as possible--It is true that there are men who, on the approach of -severe pain, hear the very opposite call of command, and never appear -more proud, more martial, or more happy than when the storm is brewing; -indeed, pain itself provides them with their supreme moments! These -are the heroic men, the great _pain-bringers_ of mankind: those few -and rare ones who need just the same apology as pain generally,--and -verily, it should not be denied them! They are forces of the greatest -importance for preserving and advancing the species, be it only because -they are opposed to smug ease, and do not conceal their disgust at this -kind of happiness. - - -319. - -_As Interpreters of our Experiences._--One form of honesty has always -been lacking among founders of religions and their kin:--they have -never made their experiences a matter of the intellectual conscience. -"What did I really experience? What then took place in me and around -me? Was my understanding clear enough? Was my will directly opposed -to all deception of the senses, and courageous in its defence against -fantastic notions?"--None of them ever asked these questions, nor -to this day do any of the good religious people ask them. They have -rather a thirst for things which are _contrary to reason,_ and they -don't want to have too much difficulty in satisfying this thirst,--so -they experience "miracles" and "regenerations," and hear the voices of -angels! But we who are different, who are thirsty for reason, want to -look as carefully into our experiences as in the case of a scientific -experiment, hour by hour, day by day! We ourselves want to be our own -experiments, and our own subjects of experiment. - - -320. - -_On Meeting Again._--A: Do I quite understand you? You are in search -of something? _Where,_ in the midst of the present, actual world, is -_your_ niche and star? Where can _you_ lay yourself in the sun, so that -you also may have a surplus of well-being, that your existence may -justify itself? Let everyone do that for himself--you seem to say, ---and let him put talk about generalities, concern for others and -society, out of his mind!--B: I want more; I am no seeker. I want to -create my own sun for myself. - - -321. - -_A New Precaution._--Let us no longer think so much about punishing, -blaming, and improving! We shall seldom be able to alter an individual, -and if we should succeed in doing so, something else may also succeed, -perhaps unawares: _we_ may have been altered by him! Let us rather see -to it that our own influence on _all that is to come_ outweighs and -overweighs his influence! Let us not struggle in direct conflict!--all -blaming, punishing, and desire to improve comes under this category. -But let us elevate ourselves all the higher! Let us ever give to our -pattern more shining colours! Let us obscure, the other by our light! -No! We do not mean to become _darker_ ourselves on his account, like -those who punish and are discontented! Let us rather go aside! Let us -look away! - - -322. - -_A Simile._--Those thinkers in whom all the stars move in cyclic -orbits, are not the most profound. He who looks into himself, as into -an immense universe, and carries Milky Ways in himself, knows also -how irregular all Milky Ways are; they lead into the very chaos and -labyrinth of existence. - -323. - -_Happiness in Destiny._--Destiny confers its greatest distinction -upon us when it has made us fight for a time on the side of our -adversaries. We are thereby _predestined_ to a great victory. - - -324. - -_In Media Vita._--No! Life has not deceived me! On the contrary, from -year to year I find it richer, more desirable and more mysterious--from -the day on which the great liberator broke my fetters, the thought -that life may be an experiment of the thinker--and not a duty, not -a fatality, not a deceit!--And knowledge itself may be for others -something different; for example, a bed of ease, or the path to a -bed of ease, or an entertainment, or a course of idling,--for me -it is a world of dangers and victories, in which even the heroic -sentiments have their arena and dancing-floor. _"Life as a means to -knowledge"_--with this principle in one's heart, one can not only be -brave, but can even _live joyfully and laugh joyfully!_ And who could -know how to laugh well and live well, who did not first understand the -full significance of war and victory? - - -325. - -_What Belongs to Greatness._--Who can attain to anything great if he -does not feel in himself the force and will _to inflict_ great pain? -The ability to suffer is a small matter: in that line, weak women and -even slaves often attain masterliness. But not to perish from internal -distress and doubt when one inflicts great suffering and hears the cry -of it--that is great, that belongs to greatness. - - -326. - -_Physicians of the Soul and Pain._--All preachers of morality, as -also all theologians, have a bad habit in common: all of them try to -persuade man that he is very ill, and that a severe, final, radical -cure is necessary. And because mankind as a whole has for centuries -listened too eagerly to those teachers, something of the superstition -that the human race is in a very bad way has actually come over men: -so that they are now far too ready to sigh; they find nothing more -in life and make melancholy faces at each other, as if life were -indeed very hard _to endure._ In truth, they are inordinately assured -of their life and in love with it, and full of untold intrigues and -subtleties for suppressing everything disagreeable, and for extracting -the thorn from pain and misfortune. It seems to me that people always -speak _with exaggeration_ about pain and misfortune, as if it were a -matter of good behaviour to exaggerate here: on the other hand people -are intentionally silent in regard to the number of expedients for -alleviating pain; as for instance, the deadening of it, feverish -flurry of thought, a peaceful position, or good and bad reminiscences, -intentions, and hopes,--also many kinds of pride and fellow-feeling, -which have almost the effect of anæsthetics: while in the greatest -degree of pain fainting takes place of itself. We understand very well -how to pour sweetness on our bitterness, especially on the bitterness -of our soul; we find a remedy in our bravery and sublimity, as well -as in the nobler delirium of submission and resignation. A loss -scarcely remains a loss for an hour: in some way or other a gift from -heaven has always fallen into our lap at the same moment--a new form -of strength, for example: be it but a new opportunity for the exercise -of strength! What have the preachers of morality not dreamt concerning -the inner "misery" of evil men! What _lies_ have they not told us -about the misfortunes of impassioned men! Yes, lying is here the right -word: they were only too well aware of the overflowing happiness of -this kind of man, but they kept silent as death about it; because it -was a refutation of their theory, according to which happiness only -originates through the annihilation of the passions and the silencing -of the will! And finally, as regards the recipe of all those physicians -of the soul and their recommendation of a severe radical cure, we may -be allowed to ask: Is our life really painful and burdensome enough -for us to exchange it with advantage for a Stoical mode of living, and -Stoical petrification? We do _not_ feel _sufficiently miserable_ to -have to feel ill in the Stoical fashion! - - -327. - -_Taking Things Seriously._--The intellect is with most people an -awkward, obscure and creaking machine, which is difficult to set in -motion: they call it "_taking a thing seriously_" when they work with -this machine and want to think well--oh, how burdensome must good -thinking be to them! That delightful animal, man, seems to lose his -good-humour whenever he thinks well; he becomes "serious"! And "where -there is laughing and gaiety, thinking cannot be worth anything: -"--so speaks the prejudice of this serious animal against all "Joyful -Wisdom."--Well, then! Let us show that it is prejudice! - - -328. - -_Doing Harm to Stupidity._--It is certain that the belief in the -reprehensibility of egoism, preached with such stubbornness and -conviction, has on the whole done harm to egoism (_in favour of the -herd-instinct,_ as I shall repeat a hundred times!), especially by -depriving it of a good conscience, and by bidding us seek in it the -source of all misfortune. "Thy selfishness is the bane of thy life"--so -rang the preaching for millenniums: it did harm, as we have said, -to selfishness, and deprived it of much spirit, much cheerfulness, -much ingenuity, and much beauty; it stultified and deformed and -poisoned selfishness!--Philosophical antiquity, on the other hand, -taught that there was another principal source of evil: from Socrates -downwards, the thinkers were never weary of preaching that "your -thoughtlessness and stupidity, your unthinking way of living according -to rule, and your subjection to the opinion of your neighbour, are -the reasons why you so seldom attain to happiness,--we thinkers are, -as thinkers, the happiest of mortals." Let us not decide here whether -this preaching against stupidity was more sound than the preaching -against selfishness; it is certain, however, that stupidity was thereby -deprived of its good conscience:--those philosophers _did harm to -stupidity._ - - -329. - -_Leisure and Idleness._--There is an Indian savagery, a savagery -peculiar to the Indian blood, in the manner in which the Americans -strive after gold: and the breathless hurry of their work--the -characteristic vice of the new world--already begins to infect -old Europe, and makes it savage also, spreading over it a strange -lack of intellectuality. One is now ashamed of repose: even long -reflection almost causes remorse of conscience. Thinking is done with -a stop-watch, as dining is done with the eyes fixed on the financial -newspaper; we live like men who are continually "afraid of letting -opportunities slip." "Better do anything whatever, than nothing"--this -principle also is a noose with which all culture and all higher taste -may be strangled. And just as all form obviously disappears in this -hurry of workers, so the sense for form itself, the ear and the eye -for the melody of movement, also disappear. The proof of this is -the _clumsy perspicuity_ which is now everywhere demanded in all -positions where a person would like to be sincere with his fellows, -in intercourse with friends, women, relatives, children, teachers, -pupils, leaders and princes,--one has no longer either time or energy -for ceremonies, for roundabout courtesies, for any _esprit_ in -conversation, or for any _otium_ whatever. For life in the hunt for -gain continually compels a person to consume his intellect, even to -exhaustion, in constant dissimulation, overreaching, or forestalling: -the real virtue nowadays is to do something in a shorter time than -another person. And so there are only rare hours of sincere intercourse -_permitted:_ in them, however, people are tired, and would not only -like "to let themselves go," but _to stretch their legs_ out wide in -awkward style. The way people write their _letters_ nowadays is quite -in keeping with the age; their style and spirit will always be the true -"sign of the times." If there be still enjoyment in society and in art, -it is enjoyment such as over-worked slaves provide for themselves. Oh, -this moderation in "joy" of our cultured and uncultured classes! Oh, -this increasing suspiciousness of all enjoyment! _Work_ is winning over -more and more the good conscience to its side: the desire for enjoyment -already calls itself "need of recreation," and even begins to be -ashamed of itself. "One owes it to one's health," people say, when they -are caught at a picnic. Indeed, it might soon go so far that one could -not yield to the desire for the _vita contemplativa_ (that is to say, -excursions with thoughts and friends), without self-contempt and a bad -conscience.--Well! Formerly it was the very reverse: it was "action" -that suffered from a bad conscience. A man of good family _concealed_ -his work when need compelled him to labour. The slave laboured under -the weight of the feeling that he did something contemptible:--the -"doing" itself was something contemptible. "Only in _otium_ and -_bellum_ is there nobility and honour:" so rang the voice of ancient -prejudice! - - -330. - -_Applause._--The thinker does not need applause or the clapping of -hands, provided he be sure of the clapping of his own hands: the -latter, however, he cannot do without. Are there men who could also -do without this, and in general without any kind of applause? I doubt -it: and even as regards the wisest, Tacitus, who is no calumniator -of the wise, says: _quando etiam sapientibus gloriæ cupido novissima -exuitur_--that means with him: never. - - -331. - -_Better Deaf than Deafened._--Formerly a person wanted to have his -_calling,_ but that no longer suffices to-day, for the market has -become too large,--there has now to be _bawling._ The consequence -is that even good throats outcry each other, and the best wares are -offered for sale with hoarse voices; without market-place bawling and -hoarseness there is now no longer any genius.--It is, sure enough, an -evil age for the thinker: he has to learn to find his stillness betwixt -two noises, and has to pretend to be deaf until he finally becomes so. -As long as he has not learned this, he is in danger of perishing from -impatience and headaches. - - -332. - -_The Evil Hour._--There has perhaps been an evil hour for every -philosopher, in which he thought: What do I matter, if people should -not believe my poor arguments!--And then some malicious bird has flown -past him and twittered: "What do you matter? What do you matter?" - - -333. - -_What does Knowing Mean?--Non ridere, non lugere, neque detestari, sed -intelligere!_ says Spinoza, so simply and sublimely, as is his wont. -Nevertheless, what else is this _intelligere_ ultimately, but just -the form in which the three other things become perceptible to us all -at once? A result of the diverging and opposite impulses of desiring -to deride, lament and execrate? Before knowledge is possible each of -these impulses must first have brought forward its one-sided view of -the object or event. The struggle of these one-sided views occurs -afterwards, and out of it there occasionally arises a compromise, a -pacification, a recognition of rights on all three sides, a sort of -justice and agreement: for in virtue of the justice and agreement -all those impulses can maintain themselves in existence and retain -their mutual rights. We, to whose consciousness only the closing -reconciliation scenes and final settling of accounts of these long -processes manifest themselves, think on that account that _intelligere_ -is something conciliating, just and good, something essentially -antithetical to the impulses; whereas it is only _a certain relation of -the impulses to one another._ For a very long time conscious thinking -was regarded as the only thinking: it is now only that the truth dawns -upon us that the greater part of our intellectual activity goes on -unconsciously and unfelt by us; I believe, however, that the impulses -which are here in mutual conflict understand rightly how to make -themselves felt by _one another,_ and how to cause pain:--the violent -sudden exhaustion which overtakes all thinkers, may have its origin -here (it is the exhaustion of the battle-field). Aye, perhaps in our -struggling interior there is much concealed _heroism,_ but certainly -nothing divine, or eternally-reposing-in-itself, as Spinoza supposed. -_Conscious_ thinking, and especially that of the philosopher, is the -weakest, and on that account also the relatively mildest and quietest -mode of thinking: and thus it is precisely the philosopher who is most -easily misled concerning the nature of knowledge. - -334. - -_One must Learn to Love.--_This is our experience in music: we must -first _learn_ in general _to hear,_ to hear fully, and to distinguish a -theme or a melody, we have to isolate and limit it as a life by itself; -then we need to exercise effort and good-will in order _to endure_ it -in spite of its strangeness we need patience towards its aspect and -expression and indulgence towards what is odd in it:--in the end there -comes a moment when we are _accustomed_ to it, when we expect it, when -it dawns upon us that we should miss it if it were lacking; and then -it goes on to exercise its spell and charm more and more, and does not -cease until we have become its humble and enraptured lovers, who want -it, and want it again, and ask for nothing better from the world.--It -is thus with us, however, not only in music: it is precisely thus -that we have _learned to love_ everything that we love. We are always -finally recompensed for our good-will, our patience reasonableness -and gentleness towards what is unfamiliar, by the unfamiliar slowly -throwing off its veil and presenting itself to us as a new, ineffable -beauty:--that is its _thanks_ for our hospitality. He also who loves -himself must have learned it in this way: there is no other way. Love -also has to be learned. - - -335. - -_Cheers for Physics!_--How many men are there who know how to observe? -And among the few who do know,--how many observe themselves? "Everyone -is furthest from himself"--all the "triers of the reins" know that -to their discomfort; and the saying, "Know thyself," in the mouth -of a God and spoken to man, is almost a mockery. But that the case -of self-observation is so desperate, is attested best of all by the -manner in which _almost everybody_ talks of the nature of a moral -action, that prompt, willing, convinced, loquacious manner, with its -look, its smile, and its pleasing eagerness! Everyone seems inclined -to say to you: "Why, my dear Sir, that is precisely _my_ affair! You -address yourself with your question to him who _is authorised_ to -answer, for I happen to be wiser with regard to this matter than in -anything else. Therefore, when a man decides that '_this is right_,' -when he accordingly concludes that '_it must therefore be done,_ and -thereupon _does_ what he has thus recognised as right and designated -as necessary--then the nature of his action is _moral!"_ But, my -friend, you are talking to me about three actions instead of one: your -deciding, for instance, that "this is right," is also an action,--could -one not judge either morally or immorally? _Why_ do you regard -this, and just this, as right?--"Because my conscience tells me so; -conscience never speaks immorally, indeed it determines in the first -place what shall be moral!"--But why do you _listen_ to the voice of -your conscience? And in how far are you justified in regarding such a -judgment as true and infallible? This _belief_--is there no further -conscience for it? Do you know nothing of an intellectual conscience? -A conscience behind your "conscience"? Your decision, "this is right," -has a previous history in your impulses, your likes and dislikes, your -experiences and non-experiences; "_how_ has it originated?" you must -ask, and afterwards the further question: "_what_ really impels me to -give ear to it?" You can listen to its command like a brave soldier -who hears the command of his officer. Or like a woman who loves him -who commands. Or like a flatterer and coward, afraid of the commander. -Or like a blockhead who follows because he has nothing to say to the -contrary. In short, you can give ear to your conscience in a hundred -different ways. But _that_ you hear this or that judgment as the voice -of conscience, consequently, _that_ you feel a thing to be right--may -have its cause in the fact that you have never thought about your -nature, and have blindly accepted from your childhood what has been -designated to you as _right:_ or in the fact that hitherto bread -and honours have fallen to your share with that which you call your -duty,--it is "right" to you, because it seems to be _your_ "condition -of existence" (that you, however, have a _right_ to existence seems -to you irrefutable!). The _persistency_ of your moral judgment might -still be just a proof of personal wretchedness or impersonality; your -"moral force" might have its source in your obstinacy--or in your -incapacity to perceive new ideals! And to be brief: if you had thought -more acutely, observed more accurately, and had learned more, you would -no longer under all circumstances call this and that your "duty" and -your "conscience": the knowledge _how moral judgments have in general -always originated_ would make you tired of these pathetic words,--as -you have already grown tired of other pathetic words, for instance -"sin," "salvation," and "redemption."--And now, my friend, do not talk -to me about the categorical imperative! That word tickles my ear, -and I must laugh in spite of your presence and your seriousness. In -this connection I recollect old Kant, who, as a punishment for having -_gained possession surreptitiously_ of the "thing in itself"--also a -very ludicrous affair!--was imposed upon by the categorical imperative, -and with that in his heart _strayed back again_ to "God," the "soul," -"freedom," and "immortality," like a fox which strays back into its -cage: and it had been _his_ strength and shrewdness which had _broken -open_ this cage!--What? You admire the categorical imperative in you? -This "persistency" of your so-called moral judgment? This absoluteness -of the feeling that "as I think on this matter, so must everyone -think"? Admire rather your _selfishness_ therein! And the blindness, -paltriness, and modesty of your selfishness! For it is selfishness in a -person to regard _his_ judgment as universal law, and a blind, paltry -and modest selfishness besides, because it betrays that you have not -yet discovered yourself, that you have not yet created for yourself -any personal, quite personal ideal:--for this could never be the ideal -of another, to say nothing of all, of every one!--He who still thinks -that "each would have to act in this manner in this case," has not yet -advanced half a dozen paces in self-knowledge: otherwise he would know -that there neither are, nor can be, similar actions,--that every action -that has been done, has been done in an entirely unique and inimitable -manner, and that it will be the same with regard to all future -actions; that all precepts of conduct (and even the most esoteric and -subtle precepts of all moralities up to the present), apply only to -the coarse exterior,--that by means of them, indeed, a semblance of -equality can be attained, _but only a semblance,_--that in outlook and -retrospect, _every_ action is, and remains, an impenetrable affair, ---that our opinions of the "good," "noble" and "great" can never be -proved by our actions, because no action is cognisable,--that our -opinions, estimates, and tables of values are certainly among the most -powerful levers in the mechanism of our actions, that in every single -case, nevertheless, the law of their mechanism is untraceable. Let us -_confine_ ourselves, therefore, to the purification of our opinions -and appreciations, and to the _construction of new tables of value of -our own:_--we will, however, brood no longer over the "moral worth of -our actions"! Yes, my friends! As regards the whole moral twaddle of -people about one another, it is time to be disgusted with it! To sit -in judgment morally ought to be opposed to our taste! Let us leave -this nonsense and this bad taste to those who have nothing else to do, -save to drag the past a little distance further through time, and who -are never themselves the present,--consequently to the many, to the -majority! We, however, _would seek to become what we are,--_the new, -the unique, the incomparable, making laws for ourselves and creating -ourselves! And for this purpose we must become the best students and -discoverers of all the laws and necessities in the world. We must be -_physicists_ in order to be _creators_ in that sense--whereas hitherto -all appreciations and ideals have been based on _ignorance_ of physics, -or in _contradiction_ thereto. And therefore, three cheers for physics! -And still louder cheers for that which _impels_ us thereto--our honesty. - - -336. - -_Avarice of Nature_--Why has nature been so niggardly towards humanity -that she has not let human beings shine, this man more and that man -less, according to their inner abundance of light? Why have not great -men such a fine visibility in their rising and setting as the sun? How -much less equivocal would life among men then be! - - -337. - -_Future "Humanity."--_When I look at this age with the eye of a distant -future, I find nothing so remarkable in the man of the present day as -his peculiar virtue and sickness called "the historical sense." It is a -tendency to something quite new and foreign in history: if this embryo -were given several centuries and more, there might finally evolve out -of it a marvellous plant, with a smell equally marvellous, on account -of which our old earth might be more pleasant to live in than it has -been hitherto. We moderns are just beginning to form the chain of a -very powerful, future sentiment, link by link,--we hardly know what -we are doing. It almost seems to us as if it were not the question -of a new sentiment, but of the decline of all old sentiments:--the -historical sense is still something so poor and cold, and many are -attacked by it as by a frost, and are made poorer and colder by it. To -others it appears as the indication of stealthily approaching age, and -our planet is regarded by them as a melancholy invalid, who, in order -to forget his present condition, writes the history of his youth. In -fact, this is one aspect of the new sentiment. He who knows how to -regard the history of man in its entirety as _his own history,_ feels -in the immense generalisation all the grief of the invalid who thinks -of health, of the old man who thinks of the dream of his youth, of -the lover who is robbed of his beloved, of the martyr whose ideal is -destroyed, of the hero on the evening of the indecisive battle which -has brought him wounds and the loss of a friend. But to bear this -immense sum of grief of all kinds, to be able to bear it, and yet still -be the hero who at the commencement of a second day of battle greets -the dawn and his happiness, as one who has an horizon of centuries -before and behind him, as the heir of all nobility, of all past -intellect, and the obligatory heir (as the noblest) of all the old -nobles; while at the same time the first of a new nobility, the equal -of which has never been seen nor even dreamt of: to take all this upon -his soul, the oldest, the newest, the losses, hopes, conquests, and -victories of mankind: to have all this at last in one soul, and to -comprise it in one feeling:--this would necessarily furnish a happiness -which man has not hitherto known,--a God's happiness, full of power and -love, full of tears and laughter, a happiness which, like the sun in -the evening, continually gives of its inexhaustible riches and empties -into the sea,--and like the sun, too, feels itself richest when even -the poorest fisherman rows with golden oars! This divine feeling might -then be called--humanity! - - -338. - -_The Will to Suffering and the Compassionate._--Is it to your advantage -to be above all compassionate? And is it to the advantage of the -sufferers when you are so? But let us leave the first question for a -moment without an answer.--That from which we suffer most profoundly -and personally is almost incomprehensible and inaccessible to every -one else: in this matter we are hidden from our neighbour even when -he eats at the same table with us. Everywhere, however, where we are -_noticed_ as sufferers, our suffering is interpreted in a shallow way; -it belongs to the nature of the emotion of pity to _divest_ unfamiliar -suffering of its properly personal character:--our "benefactors" -lower our value and volition more than our enemies. In most benefits -which are conferred on the unfortunate there is something shocking -in the intellectual levity with which the compassionate person plays -the rôle of fate: he knows nothing of all the inner consequences and -complications which are called misfortune for _me_ or for _you!_ The -entire economy of my soul and its adjustment by "misfortune," the -uprising of new sources and needs, the closing up of old wounds, the -repudiation of whole periods of the past--none of these things which -may be connected with misfortune preoccupy the dear sympathiser. He -wishes _to succour,_ and does not reflect that there is a personal -necessity for misfortune; that terror, want, impoverishment, midnight -watches, adventures, hazards and mistakes are as necessary to me and -to you as their opposites, yea, that, to speak mystically, the path to -one's own heaven always leads through the voluptuousness of one's own -hell. No, he knows nothing thereof. The "religion of compassion" (or -"the heart") bids him help, and he thinks he has helped best when he -has helped most speedily! If you adherents of this religion actually -have the same sentiments towards yourselves which you have towards your -fellows, if you are unwilling to endure your own suffering even for an -hour, and continually forestall all possible misfortune, if you regard -suffering and pain generally as evil, as detestable, as deserving of -annihilation, and as blots on existence, well, you have then, besides -your religion of compassion, yet another religion in your heart (and -this is perhaps the mother of the former)--_the religion of smug ease._ -Ah, how little you know of the _happiness_ of man, you comfortable -and good-natured ones!--for happiness and misfortune are brother and -sister, and twins, who grow tall together, or, as with you, _remain -small_ together! But now let us return to the first question.--How is -it at all possible for a person to keep to _his_ path! Some cry or -other is continually calling one aside: our eye then rarely lights on -anything without it becoming necessary for us to leave for a moment our -own affairs and rush to give assistance. I know there are hundreds of -respectable and laudable methods of making me stray _from my course,_ -and in truth the most "moral" of methods! Indeed, the opinion of the -present-day preachers of the morality of compassion goes so far as to -imply that just this, and this alone is moral:--to stray from _our_ -course to that extent and to run to the assistance of our neighbour. I -am equally certain that I need only give myself over to the sight of -one case of actual distress, and I, too, _am_ lost! And if a suffering -friend said to me, "See, I shall soon die, only promise to die with -me"--I might promise it, just as--to select for once bad examples for -good reasons--the sight of a small, mountain people struggling for -freedom,. would bring me to the point of offering them my hand and my -life. Indeed, there is even a secret seduction in all this awakening -of compassion, and calling for help: our "own way" is a thing too -hard and insistent, and too far removed from the love and gratitude -of others,--we escape from it and from our most personal conscience, -not at all unwillingly, and, seeking security in the conscience of -others, we take refuge in the lovely temple of the "religion of pity." -As soon now as any war breaks out, there always breaks out at the -same time a certain secret delight precisely in the noblest class of -the people: they rush with rapture to meet the new danger of _death,_ -because they believe that in the sacrifice for their country they have -finally that long-sought-for permission--the permission _to shirk -their aim:_--war is for them a detour to suicide, a detour, however, -with a good conscience. And although silent here about some things, -I will not, however, be silent about my morality, which says to me: -Live in concealment in order that thou _mayest_ live to thyself. Live -_ignorant_ of that which seems to thy age to be most important! Put at -least the skin of three centuries betwixt thyself, and the present day! -And the clamour of the present day, the noise of wars and revolutions, -ought to be a murmur to thee! Thou wilt also want to help, but only -those whose distress thou entirely _understandest,_ because they have -_one_ sorrow and _one_ hope in common with thee--thy _friends:_ and -only in _the_ way that thou helpest thyself:--I want to make them more -courageous, more enduring, more simple, more joyful! I want to teach -them that which at present so few understand, and the preachers of -fellowship in sorrow least of all:--namely, _fellowship in joy!_ - - -339. - -_Vita femina._--To see the ultimate beauties in a work--all knowledge -and good-will is not enough; it requires the rarest, good chance for -the veil of clouds to move for once from the summits, and for the sun -to shine on them. We must not only stand at precisely the right place -to see this, our very soul itself must have pulled away the veil from -its heights, and must be in need of an external expression and simile, -so as to have a hold and remain master of itself. All these, however, -are so rarely united at the same time that I am inclined to believe -that the highest summit of all that is good, be it work, deed, man, or -nature, has hitherto remained for most people, and even for the best, -as something concealed and shrouded:--that, however, which unveils -itself to us, _unveils itself to us but once._ The Greeks indeed -prayed: "Twice and thrice, everything beautiful!" Ah, they had their -good reason to call on the Gods, for ungodly actuality does not furnish -us with the beautiful at all, or only does so once! I mean to say that -the world is overfull of beautiful things, but it is nevertheless -poor, very poor, in beautiful moments, and in the unveiling of those -beautiful things. But perhaps this is the greatest charm of life: it -puts a gold-embroidered veil of lovely potentialities over itself, -promising, resisting, modest, mocking, sympathetic, seductive. Yes, -life is a woman! - - -340. - -_The Dying Socrates.--_-I admire the courage and wisdom of Socrates in -all that he did, said--and did not say. This mocking and amorous demon -and rat-catcher of Athens, who made the most insolent youths tremble -and sob, was not only the wisest babbler that has ever lived, but was -just as great in his silence. I would that he had also been silent in -the last moment of his life,--perhaps he might then have belonged to a -still higher order of intellects. Whether it was death, or the poison, -or piety, or wickedness--something or other loosened his tongue at that -moment, and he said: "O Crito, I owe a cock to Asclepios." For him who -has ears, this ludicrous and terrible "last word" implies: "O Crito, -_life is a long sickness!"_ Is it possible! A man like him, who had -lived cheerfully and to all appearance as a soldier,--was a pessimist! -He had merely put on a good demeanour towards life, and had all along -concealed his ultimate judgment, his profoundest sentiment! Socrates, -Socrates _had suffered from life!_ And he also took his revenge for -it--with that veiled, fearful, pious, and blasphemous phrase! Had -even a Socrates to revenge himself? Was there a grain too little of -magnanimity in his superabundant virtue? Ah, my friends! We must -surpass even the Greeks! - - -341. - -_The Heaviest Burden._--What if a demon crept after thee into thy -loneliest loneliness some day or night, and said to thee: "This life, -as thou livest it at present, and hast lived it, thou must live it -once more, and also innumerable times; and there will be nothing new -in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and every sigh, -and all the unspeakably small and great in thy life must come to thee -again, and all in the same series and sequence--and similarly this -spider and this moonlight among the trees, and similarly this moment, -and I myself. The eternal sand-glass of existence will ever be turned -once more, and thou with it, thou speck of dust!"--Wouldst thou not -throw thyself down and gnash thy teeth, and curse the demon that so -spake? Or hast thou once experienced a tremendous moment in which thou -wouldst answer him: "Thou art a God, and never did I hear anything -so divine!" If that thought acquired power over thee as thou art, it -would transform thee, and perhaps crush thee; the question with regard -to all and everything: "Dost thou want this once more, and also for -innumerable times?" would lie as the heaviest burden upon thy activity! -Or, how wouldst thou have to become favourably inclined to thyself and -to life, so as _to long for nothing more ardently_ than for this last -eternal sanctioning and sealing?-- - - -342. - -_Incipit Tragœdia._--When Zarathustra was thirty years old, he left -his home and the Lake of Urmi, and went into the mountains. There he -enjoyed his spirit and his solitude, and for ten years did not weary -of it. But at last his heart changed,--and rising one morning with the -rosy dawn, he went before the sun and spake thus to it: "Thou great -star! What would be thy happiness if thou hadst not those for whom thou -shinest! For ten years hast thou climbed hither unto my cave: thou -wouldst have wearied of thy light and of the journey, had it not been -for me, mine eagle, and my serpent. But we awaited thee every morning, -took from thee thine overflow, and blessed thee for it. Lo! I am weary -of my wisdom, like the bee that hath gathered too much honey; I need -hands outstretched to take it. I would fain bestow and distribute, -until the wise have once more become joyous in their folly, and the -poor happy in their riches. Therefore must I descend into the deep, as -thou doest in the evening, when thou goest behind the sea and givest -light also to the nether-world, thou most rich star! Like thee must I -_go down,_ as men say, to whom I shall descend. Bless me then, thou -tranquil eye, that canst behold even the greatest happiness without -envy! Bless the cup that is about to overflow, that the water may flow -golden out of it, and carry everywhere the reflection of thy bliss! Lo! -This cup is again going to empty itself, and Zarathustra is again going -to be a man."--Thus began Zarathustra's down-going. - - - - -BOOK FIFTH - - -FEARLESS ONES - - - -"Carcasse, tu trembles? Tu tremblerais bien davantage, tu savais, où je -te mène." _Turenne._ - - -343. - - -_What our Cheerfulness Signifies._--The most important of more recent -events--that "God is dead," that the belief in the Christian God has -become unworthy of belief--already begins to cast its first shadows -over Europe. To the few at least whose eye, whose _suspecting_ glance, -is strong enough and subtle enough for this drama, some sun seems -to have set, some old, profound confidence seems to have changed -into doubt: our old world must seem to them daily more darksome, -distrustful, strange and "old." In the main, however, one may say that -the event itself is far too great, too remote, too much beyond most -people's power of apprehension, for one to suppose that so much as -the report of it could have _reached_ them; not to speak of many who -already knew _what_ had taken place, and what must all collapse now -that this belief had been undermined,--because so much was built upon -it, so much rested on it, and had become one with it: for example, our -entire European morality. This lengthy, vast and uninterrupted process -of crumbling, destruction, ruin and overthrow which is now imminent: -who has realised it sufficiently to-day to have to stand up as the -teacher and herald of such a tremendous logic of terror, as the prophet -of a period of gloom and eclipse, the like of which has probably never -taken place on earth before?... Even we, the born riddle-readers, who -wait as it were on the mountains posted 'twixt to-day and to-morrow, -and engirt by their contradiction, we, the firstlings and premature -children of the coming century, into whose sight especially the shadows -which must forthwith envelop Europe _should_ already have come--how is -it that even we, without genuine sympathy for this period of gloom, -contemplate its advent without any _personal_ solicitude or fear? -Are we still, perhaps, too much under the _immediate effects_ of the -event--and are these effects, especially as regards _ourselves,_ -perhaps the reverse of what was to be expected--not at all sad and -depressing, but rather like a new and indescribable variety of light, -happiness, relief, enlivenment, encouragement, and dawning day?... In -fact, we philosophers and "free spirits" feel ourselves irradiated as -by a new dawn by the report that the "old God is dead"; our hearts -overflow with gratitude, astonishment, presentiment and expectation. -At last the horizon seems open once more, granting even that it is not -bright; our ships can at last put out to sea in face of every danger; -every hazard is again permitted to the discerner; the sea, _our_ sea, -again lies open before us; perhaps never before did such an "open sea" -exist.-- - - -344. - -_To what Extent even We are still Pious._--It is said with good reason -that convictions have no civic rights in the domain of science: it is -only when a conviction voluntarily condescends to the modesty of an -hypothesis, a preliminary standpoint for experiment, or a regulative -fiction, that its access to the realm of knowledge, and a certain -value therein, can be conceded,--always, however, with the restriction -that it must remain under police supervision, under the police of our -distrust.--Regarded more accurately, however, does not this imply -that only when a conviction _ceases_ to be a conviction can it obtain -admission into science? Does not the discipline of the scientific -spirit just commence when one no longer harbours any conviction?... -It is probably so: only, it remains to be asked whether, _in order -that this discipline may commence,_ it is not necessary that there -should already be a conviction, and in fact one so imperative and -absolute, that it makes a sacrifice of all other convictions. One -sees that science also rests on a belief: there is no science at all -"without premises." The question whether _truth_ is necessary, must -not merely be affirmed beforehand, but must be affirmed to such an -extent that the principle, belief, or conviction finds expression, -that "there is _nothing more necessary_ than truth, and in comparison -with it everything else has only secondary value."--This absolute -will to truth: what is it? Is it the will _not to allow ourselves to -be deceived?_ Is it the will _not to deceive?_ For the will to truth -could also be interpreted in this fashion, provided one included under -the generalisation, "I will not deceive," the special case, "I will -not deceive myself." But why not deceive? Why not allow oneself to be -deceived?--Let it be noted that the reasons for the former eventuality -belong to a category quite different from those for the latter: one -does not want to be deceived oneself, under the supposition that it -is injurious, dangerous, or fatal to be deceived,--in this sense -science would be a prolonged process of caution, foresight and utility; -against which, however, one might reasonably make objections. What? is -not-wishing-to-be-deceived really less injurious, less dangerous, less -fatal? What do you know of the character of existence in all its phases -to be able to decide whether the greater advantage is on the side of -absolute distrust, or of absolute trustfulness? In case, however, of -both being necessary, much trusting _and_ much distrusting, whence then -should science derive the absolute belief, the conviction on which it -rests, that truth is more important than anything else, even than every -other conviction? This conviction could not have arisen if truth _and_ -untruth had both continually proved themselves to be useful: as is the -case. Thus--the belief in science, which now undeniably exists, cannot -have had its origin in such a utilitarian calculation, but rather _in -spite of_ the fact of the inutility and dangerousness of the "Will -to truth," of "truth at all costs," being continually demonstrated. -"At all costs": alas, we understand that sufficiently well, after -having sacrificed and slaughtered one belief after another at this -altar!--Consequently, "Will to truth" does _not_ imply, "I will not -allow myself to be deceived," but--there is no other alternative--"I -will not deceive, not even myself": _and thus we have reached the -realm of morality._ For, let one just ask oneself fairly: "Why wilt -thou not deceive?" especially if it should seem--and it does seem--as -if life were laid out with a view to appearance, I mean, with a view -to error deceit, dissimulation, delusion, self-delusion; and when on -the other hand it is a matter of fact that the great type of life -has always manifested itself on the side of the most unscrupulous -πολύτροποι. Such an intention might perhaps, to express it mildly, -be a piece of Quixotism, a little enthusiastic craziness; it might -also, however, be something worse, namely, a destructive principle, -hostile to life.... "Will to Truth,"--that might be a concealed Will to -Death.--Thus the question Why is there science? leads back to the moral -problem: _What in general is the purpose of morality,_ if life, nature, -and history are "non-moral"? There is no doubt that the conscientious -man in the daring and extreme sense in which he is presupposed by the -belief in science, _affirms thereby a world other than_ that of life, -nature, and history; and in so far as he affirms this "other world," -what? must he not just thereby--deny its counterpart, this world, _our_ -world?... But what I have in view will now be understood, namely, -that it is always a _metaphysical belief_ on which our belief in -science rests,--and that even we knowing ones of to-day, landless and -anti-metaphysical, still take _our_ fire from the conflagration kindled -by a belief a millennium old, the Christian belief, which was also the -belief of Plato, that God is truth, that the truth is divine.... But -what if this itself always becomes more untrustworthy, what if nothing -any longer proves itself divine, except it be error, blindness, and -falsehood;--what if God himself turns out to be our most persistent -lie?-- - - -345. - -_Morality as a Problem._--A defect in personality revenges itself -everywhere: an enfeebled, lank, obliterated, self-disavowing and -disowning personality is no longer fit for anything good--it is least -of all fit for philosophy. "Selflessness" has no value either in -heaven or on earth; the great problems all demand _great love,_ and -it is only the strong, well-rounded, secure spirits, those who have a -solid basis, that are qualified for them. It makes the most material -difference whether a thinker stands personally related to his problems, -having his fate, his need, and even his highest happiness therein; or -merely impersonally, that is to say, if he can only feel and grasp -them with the tentacles of cold, prying thought. In the latter case -I warrant that nothing comes of it: for the great problems, granting -that they let themselves be grasped at all, do not let themselves -be _held_ by toads and weaklings: that has ever been their taste--a -taste also which they share with all high-spirited women.--How is it -that I have not yet met with any one, not even in books, who seems to -have stood to morality in this position, as one who knew morality as -a problem, and this problem as _his own_ personal need, affliction, -pleasure and passion? It is obvious that up to the present morality -has not been a problem at all; it has rather been the very ground on -which people have met after all distrust, dissension and contradiction, -the hallowed place of peace, where thinkers could obtain rest even -from themselves, could recover breath and revive. I see no one who -has ventured to _criticise_ the estimates of moral worth. I miss in -this connection even the attempts of scientific curiosity, and the -fastidious, groping imagination of psychologists and historians, which -easily anticipates a problem and catches it on the wing, without -rightly knowing what it catches. With difficulty I have discovered -some scanty data for the purpose of furnishing a _history of the -origin_ of these feelings and estimates of value (which is something -different from a criticism of them, and also something different from -a history of ethical systems). In an individual case I have done -everything to encourage the inclination and talent for this kind of -history--in vain, as it would seem to me at present. There is little to -be learned from those historians of morality (especially Englishmen): -they themselves are usually, quite unsuspiciously, under the influence -of a definite morality, and act unwittingly as its armour-bearers and -followers--perhaps still repeating sincerely the popular superstition -of Christian Europe, that the characteristic of moral action consists -in abnegation, self-denial, self-sacrifice, or in fellow-feeling and -fellow-suffering. The usual error in their premises is their insistence -on a certain _consensus_ among human beings, at least among civilised -human beings, with regard to certain propositions of morality, from -thence they conclude that these propositions are absolutely binding -even upon you and me; or reversely, they come to the conclusion that -_no_ morality is binding, after the truth has dawned upon them that -among different peoples moral valuations are _necessarily_ different: -both of which conclusions are equally childish follies. The error -of the more subtle amongst them is that they discover and criticise -the probably foolish opinions of a people about its own morality, or -the opinions of mankind about human morality generally (they treat -accordingly of its origin, its religious sanctions, the superstition -of free will, and such matters), and they think that just by so doing -they have criticised the morality itself. But the worth of a precept, -"Thou shalt," is fundamentally different from and independent of such -opinions about it, and must be distinguished from the weeds of error -with which it has perhaps been overgrown: just as the worth of a -medicine to a sick person is altogether independent of the question -whether he has a scientific opinion about medicine, or merely thinks -about it as an old wife would do. A morality could even have grown _out -of_ an error: but with this knowledge the problem of its worth would -not even be touched.--Thus, no one hitherto has tested the _value_ -of that most celebrated of all medicines, called morality: for which -purpose it is first of all necessary for one--_to call it in question._ -Well, that is just our work.-- - - -346. - -_Our Note of Interrogation._--But you don't understand it? As a matter -of fact, an effort will be necessary in order to understand us. We -seek for words; we seek perhaps also for ears. Who are we after all? -If we wanted simply to call ourselves in older phraseology, atheists, -unbelievers, or even immoralists, we should still be far from thinking -ourselves designated thereby: we are all three in too late a phase for -people generally to conceive, for _you,_ my inquisitive friends, to be -able to conceive, what is our state of mind under the circumstances. -No! we have no longer the bitterness and passion of him who has -broken loose, who has to make for himself a belief, a goal, and even -a martyrdom out of his unbelief! We have become saturated with the -conviction (and have grown cold and hard in it) that things are not -at all divinely ordered in this world, nor even according to human -standards do they go on rationally, mercifully, or justly: we know -the fact that the world in which we live is ungodly, immoral, and -"inhuman,"--we have far too long interpreted it to ourselves falsely -and mendaciously, according to the wish and will of our veneration, -that is to say, according to our _need._ For man is a venerating -animal! But he is also a distrustful animal: and that the world is -_not_ worth what we believed it to be worth is about the surest thing -our distrust has at last managed to grasp. So much distrust, so much -philosophy! We take good care not to say that the world is of _less_ -value: it seems to us at present absolutely ridiculous when man claims -to devise values _to surpass_ the values of the actual world,--it is -precisely from that point that we have retraced our steps; as from -an extravagant error of human conceit and irrationality, which for a -long period has not been recognised as such. This error had its last -expression in modern Pessimism; an older and stronger manifestation -in the teaching of Buddha; but Christianity also contains it, more -dubiously, to be sure, and more ambiguously, but none the less -seductive on that account. The whole attitude of "man _versus_ the -world," man as world-denying principle, man as the standard of the -value of things, as judge of the world, who in the end puts existence -itself on his scales and finds it too light--the monstrous impertinence -of this attitude has dawned upon us as such, and has disgusted us,--we -now laugh when we find, "Man _and_ World" placed beside one another, -separated by the sublime presumption of the little word "and"! But how -is it? Have we not in our very laughing just made a further step in -despising mankind? And consequently also in Pessimism, in despising -the existence cognisable _by us?_ Have we not just thereby awakened -suspicion that there is an opposition between the world in which we -have hitherto been at home with our venerations--for the sake of -which we perhaps _endure_ life--and another world _which we ourselves -are:_ an inexorable, radical, most profound suspicion concerning -ourselves, which is continually getting us Europeans more annoyingly -into its power, and could easily face the coming generation with the -terrible alternative: Either do away with your venerations, or--_with -yourselves!"_ The latter would be Nihilism--but would not the former -also be Nihilism? This is _our_ note of interrogation. - - -347. - -_Believers and their Need of Belief._--How much _faith_ a person -requires in order to flourish, how much "fixed opinion" he requires -which he does not wish to have shaken, because he _holds_ himself -thereby--is a measure of his power (or more plainly speaking, of his -weakness). Most people in old Europe, as it seems to me, still need -Christianity at present, and on that account it still finds belief. For -such is man: a theological dogma might be refuted to him a thousand -times,--provided, however, that he had need of it, he would again and -again accept it as "true,"--according to the famous "proof of power" -of which the Bible speaks. Some have still need of metaphysics; but -also the impatient _longing for certainty_ which at present discharges -itself in scientific, positivist fashion among large numbers of the -people, the longing by all means to get at something stable (while -on account of the warmth of the longing the establishing of the -certainty is more leisurely and negligently undertaken):--even this is -still the longing for a hold, a support; in short, the _instinct of -weakness,_ which, while not actually creating religions, metaphysics, -and convictions of all kinds, nevertheless--preserves them. In -fact, around all these positivist systems there fume the vapours -of a certain pessimistic gloom, something of weariness, fatalism, -disillusionment, and fear of new disillusionment--or else manifest -animosity, ill-humour, anarchic exasperation, and whatever there is of -symptom or masquerade of the feeling of weakness. Even the readiness -with which our cleverest contemporaries get lost in wretched corners -and alleys, for example, in Vaterländerei (so I designate Jingoism, -called _chauvinisme_ in France, and "_deutsch_" in Germany), or in -petty æsthetic creeds in the manner of Parisian _naturalisme_ (which -only brings into prominence and uncovers--_that_ aspect of nature which -excites simultaneously disgust and astonishment--they like at present -to call this aspect _la vérité vraie_, or in Nihilism in the St -Petersburg style (that is to say, in the _belief in unbelief,_ even to -martyrdom for it):--this shows always and above all the need of belief, -support, backbone, and buttress.... Belief is always most desired, most -pressingly needed, where there is a lack of will: for the will, as -emotion of command, is the distinguishing characteristic of sovereignty -and power. That is to say, the less a person knows how to command, -the more urgent is his desire for that; which commands, and commands -sternly,--a God, a prince, a caste, a physician, a confessor, a dogma, -a party conscience. From whence perhaps it could be inferred that the -two world-religions, Buddhism and Christianity, might well have had the -cause of their rise, and especially of their rapid extension, in an -extraordinary _malady of the will_ And in truth it has been so: both -religions lighted upon a longing, monstrously exaggerated by malady of -the will, for an imperative, a "Thou-shalt," a longing going the length -of despair; both religions were teachers of fanaticism in times of -slackness of will-power, and thereby offered to innumerable persons a -support, a new possibility of exercising will, an enjoyment in willing. -For in fact fanaticism is the sole "volitional strength" to which the -weak and irresolute can be excited, as a sort of hypnotising of the -entire sensory-intellectual system, in favour of the over-abundant -nutrition (hypertrophy) of a particular point of view and a particular -sentiment, which then dominates--the Christian calls it his _faith._ -When a man arrives at the fundamental conviction that he _requires_ to -be commanded, he becomes "a believer." Reversely, one could imagine -a delight and a power of self-determining, and a _freedom_ of will, -whereby a spirit could bid farewell to every belief, to every wish for -certainty, accustomed as it would be to support itself on slender cords -and possibilities, and to dance even on the verge of abysses. Such a -spirit would be the _free spirit par excellence._ - - -348. - -_The Origin of the Learned._--The learned man in Europe grows out -of all the different ranks and social conditions, like a plant -requiring no specific soil: on that account he belongs essentially -and involuntarily to the partisans of democratic thought. But this -origin betrays itself. If one has trained one's glance to some -extent to recognise in a learned book or scientific treatise the -intellectual _idiosyncrasy_ of the learned man--all of them have -such idiosyncrasy,--and if we take it by surprise, we shall almost -always get a glimpse behind it of the "antecedent history" of the -learned man and his family, especially of the nature of their callings -and occupations. Where the feeling finds expression, "That is at -last proved, I am now done with it," it is commonly the ancestor -in the blood and instincts of the learned man that approves of the -"accomplished work" in the nook from which he sees things;--the belief -in the proof is only an indication of what has been looked upon for -ages by a laborious family as "good work." Take an example: the sons -of registrars and office-clerks of every kind, whose main task has -always been to arrange a variety of material, distribute it in drawers, -and systematise it generally, evince, when they become learned men, -an inclination to regard a problem as almost solved when they have -systematised it There are philosophers who are at bottom nothing but -systematising brains--the formal part of the paternal occupation has -become its essence to them. The talent for classifications, for tables -of categories, betrays something; it is not for nothing that a person -is the child of his parents. The son of an advocate will also have to -be an advocate as investigator: he seeks as a first consideration, to -carry the point in his case, as a second consideration, he perhaps -seeks to be in the right. One recognises the sons of Protestant -clergymen and schoolmasters by the naïve assurance with which as -learned men they already assume their case to be proved, when it has -but been presented by them staunchly and warmly: they are thoroughly -accustomed to people _believing_ in them,--it belonged to their -fathers' "trade"! A Jew, contrariwise, in accordance with his business -surroundings and the past of his race, is least of all accustomed--to -people believing him. Observe Jewish scholars with regard to this -matter,--they all lay great stress on logic, that is to say, on -_compelling_ assent by means of reasons; they know that they must -conquer thereby, even when race and class antipathy is against them, -even where people are unwilling to believe them. For in fact, nothing -is more democratic than logic: it knows no respect of persons, and -takes even the crooked nose as straight. (In passing we may remark that -in respect to logical thinking, in respect to _cleaner_ intellectual -habits, Europe is not a little indebted to the Jews; above all the -Germans, as being a lamentably _déraisonnable_ race, who, even at the -present day, must always have their "heads washed"[1] in the first -place. Wherever the Jews have attained to influence, they have taught -to analyse more subtly, to argue more acutely, to write more clearly -and purely: it has always been their problem to bring a people "to -_raison._") - - -[1] In German the expression _Kopf zu waschen,_ besides the literal -sense, also means "to give a person a sound drubbing."--TR. - - -349. - -_The Origin of the Learned once more._--To seek self-preservation -merely, is the expression of a state of distress, or of limitation of -the true, fundamental instinct of life, which aims at the _extension -of power,_ and with this in view often enough calls in question -self-preservation and sacrifices it. It should be taken as symptomatic -when individual philosophers, as for example, the consumptive Spinoza, -have seen and have been obliged to see the principal feature of life -precisely in the so-called self-preservative instinct:--they have just -been men in states of distress. That our modern natural sciences have -entangled themselves so much with Spinoza's dogma (finally and most -grossly in Darwinism, with its inconceivably one-sided doctrine of the -"struggle for existence"--), is probably owing to the origin of most of -the inquirers into nature: they belong in this respect to the people, -their forefathers have been poor and humble persons, who knew too well -by immediate experience the difficulty of making a living. Over the -whole of English Darwinism there hovers something of the suffocating -air of over-crowded England, something of the odour of humble people -in need and in straits. But as an investigator of nature, a person -ought to emerge from his paltry human nook: and in nature the state of -distress does not _prevail,_ but superfluity, even prodigality to the -extent of folly. The struggle for existence is only an _exception,_ a -temporary restriction of the will to live; the struggle, be it great or -small, turns everywhere on predominance, on increase and expansion, on -power, in conformity to the will to power, which is just the will to -live. - - -350. - -_In Honour of Homines Religiosi._--The struggle against the church is -certainly (among other things--for it has a manifold significance) -the struggle of the more ordinary, cheerful, confiding, superficial -natures against the rule of the graver, profounder, more contemplative -natures, that is to say, the more malign and suspicious men, who with -long continued distrust in the worth of life, brood also over their own -worth:--the ordinary instinct of the people, its sensual gaiety, its -"good heart," revolts against them. The entire Roman Church rests on a -Southern suspicion of the nature of man (always misunderstood in the -North), a suspicion whereby the European South has succeeded, to the -inheritance of the profound Orient--the mysterious, venerable Asia--and -its contemplative spirit. Protestantism was a popular insurrection -in favour of the simple, the respectable, the superficial (the North -has always been more good-natured and more shallow than the South), -but it was the French Revolution that first gave the sceptre wholly -and solemnly into the hands of the "good man" (the sheep, the ass, -the goose, and everything incurably shallow, bawling, and fit for the -Bedlam of "modern ideas"). - - -351. - -_In Honour of Priestly Natures._--I think that philosophers have always -felt themselves very remote from that which the people (in all classes -of society nowadays) take for wisdom: the prudent, bovine placidity, -piety, and country-parson meekness, which lies in the meadow and -_gazes at_ life seriously and ruminatingly:--this is probably because -philosophers have not had sufficiently the taste of the "people," or -of the country-parson, for that kind of wisdom. Philosophers will -also perhaps be the last to acknowledge that the people _should_ -understand something of that which lies furthest from them, something -of the great _passion_ of the thinker, who lives and must live -continually in the storm-cloud of the highest problems and the heaviest -responsibilities (consequently, not gazing at all, to say nothing of -doing so indifferently, securely, objectively). The people venerate an -entirely different type of men when on their part they form the ideal -of a "sage," and they are a thousand times justified in rendering -homage with the highest eulogies and honours to precisely that type -of men--namely, the gentle, serious, simple, chaste, priestly natures -and those related to them,--it is to them that the praise falls due -in the popular veneration of wisdom. And to whom should the multitude -have more reason to be grateful than to these men who pertain to its -class and rise from its ranks, but are persons consecrated, chosen, -and _sacrificed_ for its good--they themselves believe themselves -sacrificed to God,--before whom every one can pour forth his heart with -impunity, by whom he can _get rid_ of his secrets, cares, and worse -things (for the man who "communicates himself" gets rid of himself, -and he who has "confessed" forgets). Here there exists a great need: -for sewers and pure cleansing waters are required also for spiritual -filth, and rapid currents of love are needed, and strong, lowly, pure -hearts, who qualify and sacrifice themselves for such service of the -non-public health-department--for it _is_ a sacrificing, the priest -is, and continues to be, a human sacrifice.... The people regard -such sacrificed, silent, serious men of "faith" as "_wise,"_ that is -to say, as men who have become sages, as "reliable" in relation to -their own unreliability. Who would desire to deprive the people of -that expression and that veneration?--But as is fair on the other -side, among philosophers the priest also is still held to belong to -the "people," and is _not_ regarded as a sage, because, above all, -they themselves do not believe in "sages," and they already scent "the -people" in this very belief and superstition. It was _modesty_ which -invented in Greece the word "philosopher," and left to the play-actors -of the spirit the superb arrogance of assuming the name "wise"--the -modesty of such monsters of pride and self-glorification as Pythagoras -and Plato.-- - - -352. - -_Why we can hardly Dispense with Morality.--_The naked man is -generally an ignominious spectacle--I speak of us European males -(and by no means of European females!). If the most joyous company -at table suddenly found themselves stripped and divested of their -garments through the trick of an enchanter, I believe that not only -would the joyousness be gone and the strongest appetite lost;--it -seems that we Europeans cannot at all dispense with the masquerade -that is called clothing. But should not the disguise of "moral men," -the screening under moral formulæ and notions of decency, the whole -kindly concealment of our conduct under conceptions of duty, virtue, -public sentiment, honourableness, and disinterestedness, have just -as good reasons in support of it? Not that I mean hereby that human -wickedness and baseness, in short, the evil wild beast in us, should -be disguised; on the contrary, my idea is that it is precisely as -_tame animals_ that we are an ignominious spectacle and require moral -disguising,--that the "inner man" in Europe is far from having enough -of intrinsic evil "to let himself be seen" with it (to be _beautiful_ -with it). The European disguises himself _in morality_ because he has -become a sick, sickly, crippled animal, who has good reasons for being -"tame," because he is almost an abortion, an imperfect, weak and clumsy -thing.... It is not the fierceness of the beast of prey that finds -moral disguise necessary, but the gregarious animal, with its profound -mediocrity, anxiety and ennui. _Morality dresses up the European_--let -us acknowledge it!--in more distinguished, more important, more -conspicuous guise--in "divine" guise-- - - -353. - -_The Origin of Religions._--The real inventions of founders of -religions are, on the one hand, to establish a definite mode of life -and everyday custom, which operates as _disciplina voluntatis,_ and -at the same time does away with ennui; and on the other hand, to give -to that very mode of life an _interpretation,_ by virtue of which it -appears illumined with the highest value; so that it henceforth becomes -a good for which people struggle, and under certain circumstances lay -down their lives. In truth, the second of these inventions is the -more essential: the first, the mode of life, has usually been there -already, side by side, however, with other modes of life, and still -unconscious of the value which it embodies. The import, the originality -of the founder of a religion, discloses itself usually in the fact that -he _sees_ the mode of life, _selects_ it, and _divines_ for the first -time the purpose for which it can be used, how it can be interpreted. -Jesus (or Paul) for example, found around him the life of the common -people in the Roman province, a modest, virtuous, oppressed life: he -interpreted it, he put the highest significance and value into it--and -thereby the courage to despise every other mode of life, the calm -fanaticism of the Moravians, the secret, subterranean self-confidence -which goes on increasing, and is at last ready "to overcome the world" -(that is to say, Rome, and the upper classes throughout the empire). -Buddha, in like manner, found the same type of man,--he found it in -fact dispersed among all the classes and social ranks of a people who -were good and kind (and above all inoffensive), owing to indolence, and -who likewise owing to indolence, lived abstemiously, almost without -requirements. He understood that such a type of man, with all its -_vis inertiæ,_ had inevitably to glide into a belief which promises -_to avoid_ the return of earthly ill (that is to say, labour and -activity generally),--this "understanding" was his genius. The founder -of a religion possesses psychological infallibility in the knowledge -of a definite, average type of souls, who have not yet _recognised_ -themselves as akin. It is he who brings them together: the founding of -a religion, therefore, always becomes a long ceremony of recognition.-- - - -354. - -_The "Genius of the Species."_--The problem of consciousness (or -more correctly: of becoming conscious of oneself) meets us only when -we begin to perceive in what measure we could dispense with it: and -it is at the beginning of this perception that we are now placed by -physiology and zoology (which have thus required two centuries to -overtake the hint thrown out in advance by Leibnitz). For we could -in fact think, feel, will, and recollect, we could likewise "act" -in every sense of the term, and nevertheless nothing of it all need -necessarily "come into consciousness" (as one says metaphorically). -The whole of life would be possible without its seeing itself as it -were in a mirror: as in fact even at present the far greater part of -our life still goes on without this mirroring,--and even our thinking, -feeling, volitional life as well, however painful this statement -may sound to an older philosopher. _What_ then is _the purpose_ of -consciousness generally, when it is in the main _superfluous_?--Now it -seems to me, if you will hear my answer and its perhaps extravagant -supposition, that the subtlety and strength of consciousness are always -in proportion to the _capacity for communication_ of a man (or an -animal), the capacity for communication in its turn being in proportion -to the _necessity for communication:_ the latter not to be understood -as if precisely the individual himself who is master in the art of -communicating and making known his necessities would at the same time -have to be most dependent upon others for his necessities. It seems -to me, however, to be so in relation to whole races and successions -of generations: where necessity and need have long compelled men to -communicate with their fellows and understand one another rapidly and -subtly, a surplus of the power and art of communication is at last -acquired as if it were a fortune which had gradually accumulated, -and now waited for an heir to squander it prodigally (the so-called -artists are these heirs, in like manner the orators, preachers, and -authors: all of them men who come at the end of a long succession, -"late-born" always, in the best sense of the word, and as has -been said, _squanderers_ by their very nature). Granted that this -observation is correct, I may proceed further to the conjecture that -_consciousness generally has only been developed under the pressure -of the necessity for communication,_--that from the first it has been -necessary and useful only between man and man (especially between those -commanding and those obeying) and has only developed in proportion -to its utility Consciousness is properly only a connecting network -between man and man,--it is only as such that it has had to develop; -the recluse and wild-beast species of men would not have needed it -The very fact that our actions, thoughts, feelings and motions come -within the range of our consciousness--at least a part of them--is the -result of a terrible, prolonged "must" ruling man's destiny: as the -most endangered animal he _needed_ help and protection; he needed his -fellows, he was obliged to express his distress, he had to know how to -make himself understood--and for all this he needed "consciousness" -first of all: he had to "know" himself what he lacked, to "know" how -he felt, and to "know" what he thought. For, to repeat it once more, -man, like every living creature, thinks unceasingly, but does not know -it; the thinking which is becoming _conscious of itself_ is only the -smallest part thereof, we may say, the most superficial part, the worst -part:--for this conscious thinking alone _is done in words, that is to -say, in the symbols for communication,_ by means of which the origin -of consciousness is revealed. In short, the development of speech and -the development of consciousness (not of reason, but of reason becoming -self-conscious) go hand in hand. Let it be further accepted that it is -not only speech that serves as a bridge between man and man, but also -the looks, the pressure and the gestures; our becoming conscious of our -sense impressions, our power of being able to fix them, and as it were -to locate them outside of ourselves, has increased in proportion as the -necessity has increased for communicating them to _others_ by means of -signs. The sign-inventing man is at the same time the man who is always -more acutely self-conscious; it is only as a social animal that man -has learned to become conscious of himself,--he is doing so still, and -doing so more and more.--As is obvious, my idea is that consciousness -does not properly belong to the individual existence of man, but -rather to the social and gregarious nature in him; that, as follows -therefrom, it is only in relation to communal and gregarious utility -that it is finely developed; and that consequently each of us, in -spite of the best intention of _understanding_ himself as individually -as possible, and of "knowing himself," will always just call into -consciousness the non-individual in him, namely, his "averageness"; ---that our thought itself is continuously as it were _outvoted_ by the -character of consciousness--by the imperious "genius of the species" -therein--and is translated back into the perspective of the herd. -Fundamentally our actions are in an incomparable manner altogether -personal, unique and absolutely individual--there is no doubt about -it; but as soon as we translate them into consciousness, they _do -not appear so any longer ..._. This is the proper phenomenalism and -perspectivism as I understand it: the nature of _animal consciousness_ -involves the notion that the world of which we can become conscious is -only a superficial and symbolic world, a generalised and vulgarised -world;--that everything which becomes conscious _becomes_ just thereby -shallow, meagre, relatively stupid,--a generalisation, a symbol, a -characteristic of the herd; that with the evolving of consciousness -there is always combined a great, radical perversion, falsification, -superficialisation, and generalisation. Finally, the growing -consciousness is a danger, and whoever lives among the most conscious -Europeans knows even that it is a disease. As may be conjectured, -it is not the antithesis of subject and object with which I am here -concerned: I leave that distinction to the epistemologists who have -remained entangled in the toils of grammar (popular metaphysics). -It is still less the antithesis of "thing in itself" and phenomenon, -for we do not "know" enough to be entitled even _to make such a -distinction._ Indeed, we have not any organ at all for _knowing,_ or -for "truth": we "know" (or believe, or fancy) just as much as may be -_of use_ in the interest of the human herd, the species; and even what -is here called "usefulness" is ultimately only a belief, a fancy, and -perhaps precisely the most fatal stupidity by which we shall one day be -ruined. - - -355. - -_The Origin of our Conception of "Knowledge"_--I take this explanation -from the street. I heard one of the people saying that "he knew me," -so I asked myself: What do the people really understand by knowledge? -what do they want when they seek "knowledge"? Nothing more than that -what is strange is to be traced back to something _known._ And we -philosophers--have we really understood _anything more_ by knowledge? -The known, that is to say, what we are accustomed to so that we no -longer marvel at it, the commonplace, any kind of rule to which we are -habituated, all and everything in which we know ourselves to be at -home:--what? is our need of knowing not just this need of the known? -the will to discover in everything strange, unusual, or questionable, -something which no longer disquiets us? Is it not possible that it -should be the _instinct of fear_ which enjoins upon us to know? Is it -not possible that the rejoicing of the discerner should be just his -rejoicing in the regained feeling of security?... One philosopher -imagined the world "known" when he had traced it back to the "idea": -alas, was it not because the idea was so known, so familiar to him? -because he had so much less fear of the "idea"--Oh, this moderation -of the discerners! let us but look at their principles, and at their -solutions of the riddle of the world in this connection! When they -again find aught in things, among things, or behind things that is -unfortunately very well known to us, for example, our multiplication -table, or our logic, or our willing and desiring, how happy they -immediately are! For "what is known is understood": they are unanimous -as to that. Even the most circumspect among them think that the -known is at least _more easily understood_ than the strange; that -for example, it is methodically ordered to proceed outward from the -"inner world," from "the facts of consciousness," because it is the -world which is _better known to us!_ Error of errors! The known is -the accustomed, and the accustomed is the most difficult of all to -"understand," that is to say, to perceive as a problem, to perceive -as strange, distant, "outside of us."... The great certainty of the -natural sciences in comparison with psychology and the criticism of the -elements of consciousness--_unnatural_ sciences, as one might almost -be entitled to call them--rests precisely on the fact that they take -_what is strange_ as their object: while it is almost like something -contradictory and absurd _to wish_ to take generally what is not -strange as an object.... - - -356. - -_In what Manner Europe will always become "more Artistic."_--Providing -a living still enforces even in the present day (in our transition -period when so much ceases to enforce) a definite _rôle_ on almost -all male Europeans, their so-called callings; some have the liberty, -an apparent liberty, to choose this rôle themselves, but most have it -chosen for them. The result is strange enough. Almost all Europeans -confound themselves with their rôle when they advance in age; they -themselves are the victims of their "good acting," they have forgotten -how much chance, whim and arbitrariness swayed them when their -"calling" was decided--and how many other rôles they _could_ perhaps -have played: for it is now too late! Looked at more closely, we see -that their characters have actually _evolved_ out of their rôle, -nature out of art. There were ages in which people believed with -unshaken confidence, yea, with piety, in their predestination for -this very business, for that very mode of livelihood, and would not -at all acknowledge chance, or the fortuitous rôle, or arbitrariness -therein. Ranks, guilds, and hereditary trade privileges succeeded] with -the help of this belief, in rearing those extraordinary broad towers -of society which distinguished the Middle Ages, and of which at all -events one thing remains to their credit: capacity for duration (and -duration is a thing of the first rank on earth!). But there are ages -entirely the reverse, the properly democratic ages, in which people -tend to become more and more oblivious of this belief, and a sort of -impudent conviction and quite contrary mode of viewing things comes -to the front, the Athenian conviction which is first observed in the -epoch of Pericles, the American conviction of the present day, which -wants also more and more to become a European conviction: whereby the -individual is convinced that he can do almost anything, that he _can -play almost any rôle,_ whereby everyone makes experiments with himself, -improvises, tries anew, tries with delight, whereby all nature ceases -and becomes art.... The Greeks, having adopted this _rôle-creed--_--an -artist creed, if you will--underwent step by step, as is well known, -a curious transformation, not in every respect worthy of imitation: -_they became actual stage-players;_ and as such they enchanted, they -conquered all the world, and at last even the conqueror of the world, -(for the _Græculus histrio_ conquered Rome, and _not_ Greek culture, -as the naïve are accustomed to say...). What I fear, however, and what -is at present obvious, if we desire to perceive it, is that we modern -men are quite on the same road already; and whenever a man begins to -discover in what respect he plays a rôle, and to what extent he _can_ -be a stage-player, he _becomes_ a stage-player.... A new flora and -fauna of men thereupon springs up, which cannot grow in more stable, -more restricted eras--or is left "at the bottom," under the ban and -suspicion of infamy; thereupon the most interesting and insane periods -of history always make their appearance, in which "stage-players," -_all_ kinds of stage-players, are the real masters. Precisely thereby -another species of man is always more and more injured, and in the -end made impossible: above all the great "architects"; the building -power is now being paralysed; the courage that makes plans for the -distant future is disheartened; there begins to be a lack of organising -geniuses. Who is there who would now venture to undertake works for -the completion of which millenniums would have to be _reckoned_ -upon? The fundamental belief is dying out, on the basis of which one -could calculate, promise and anticipate the future in one's plan, -and offer it as a sacrifice thereto, that in fact man has only value -and significance in so far as he is _a stone in a great building;_ -for which purpose he has first of all to be _solid,_ he has to be -a "stone."... Above all, not a--stage-player! In short--alas! this -fact will be hushed up for some considerable time to come!--that -which from henceforth will no longer be built, and _can_ no longer -be built, is--a society in the old sense of the term; to build that -structure everything is lacking, above all, the material. _None of -us are any longer material for a society:_ that is a truth which is -seasonable at present! It seems to me a matter of indifference that -meanwhile the most short-sighted, perhaps the most honest, and at any -rate the noisiest species of men of the present day, our friends the -Socialists, believe, hope, dream, and above all scream and scribble -almost the opposite; in fact one already reads their watchword of the -future-: "free society," on all tables and walls. Free society? Indeed! -Indeed! But you know, gentlemen, sure enough whereof one builds it? -Out of wooden iron! Out of the famous wooden iron! And not even out of -wooden.... - - -357. - -_The old Problem: "What is German?"_--Let us count up apart the real -acquisitions of philosophical thought for which we have to thank German -intellects: are they in any allowable sense to be counted also to the -credit of the whole race? Can we say that they are at the same time -the work of the "German soul," or at least a symptom of it, in the -sense in which we are accustomed to think, for example, of Plato's -ideomania, his almost religious madness for form, as an event and an -evidence of the "Greek soul"? Or would the reverse perhaps be true? -Were they individually as much _exceptions_ to the spirit of the race, -as was, for example, Goethe's Paganism with a good conscience? Or as -Bismarck's Macchiavelism was with a good conscience, his so-called -"practical politics" in Germany? Did our philosophers perhaps even -go counter to the _need_ of the "German soul"? In short, were the -German philosophers really philosophical _Germans_?--I call to mind -three cases. Firstly, _Leibnitz's_ incomparable insight--with which -he obtained the advantage not only over Descartes, but over all -who had philosophised up to his time,--that consciousness is only -an accident of mental representation, and _not_ its necessary and -essential attribute; that consequently what we call consciousness only -constitutes a state of our spiritual and psychical world (perhaps a -morbid state), and is _far from being that world itself_:--is there -anything German in this thought, the profundity of which has not as -yet been exhausted? Is there reason to think that a person of the -Latin race would not readily have stumbled on this reversal of the -apparent?--for it is a reversal. Let us call to mind secondly, the -immense note of interrogation which _Kant_ wrote after the notion of -causality. Not that he at all doubted its legitimacy, like Hume: on -the contrary, he began cautiously to define the domain within which -this notion has significance generally (we have not even yet got -finished with the marking out of these limits). Let us take thirdly, -the astonishing hit of _Hegel,_ who stuck at no logical usage or -fastidiousness when he ventured to teach that the conceptions of -kinds develop _out of one another:_ with which theory the thinkers -in Europe were prepared for the last great scientific movement, for -Darwinism--for without Hegel there would have been no Darwin. Is there -anything German in this Hegelian innovation which first introduced -the decisive conception of evolution into science?--Yes, without -doubt we feel that there is something of ourselves "discovered" and -divined in all three cases; we are thankful for it, and at the same -time surprised; each of these three principles is a thoughtful piece -of German self-confession, self-understanding, and self-knowledge. -We feel with Leibnitz that "our inner world is far richer, ampler, -and more concealed"; as Germans we are doubtful, like Kant, about the -ultimate validity of scientific knowledge of nature, and in general -about whatever _can_ be known _causaliter:_ the _knowable_ as such -now appears to us of _less_ worth. We Germans should still have been -Hegelians, even though there had never been a Hegel, inasmuch as we -(in contradistinction to all Latin peoples) instinctively attribute -to becoming, to evolution, a profounder significance and higher value -than to that which "is"--we hardly believe at all in the validity of -the concept "being." This is all the more the case because we are not -inclined to concede to our human logic that it is logic in itself, that -it is the only kind of logic (we should rather like, on the contrary, -to convince ourselves that it is only a special case, and perhaps one -of the strangest and most stupid).--A fourth question would be whether -also _Schopenhauer_ with his Pessimism, that is to say, the problem -of _the worth of existence,_ had to be a German. I think not. The -event _after_ which this problem was to be expected with certainty, -so that an astronomer of the soul could have calculated the day and -the hour for it--namely, the decay of the belief in the Christian God, -the victory of scientific atheism,--is a universal European event, in -which all races are to have their share of service and honour. On the -contrary, it has to be ascribed precisely to the Germans--those with -whom Schopenhauer was contemporary,--that they delayed this victory -of atheism longest, and endangered it most. Hegel especially was its -retarder _par excellence,_ in virtue of the grandiose attempt which he -made to persuade us at the very last of the divinity of existence, with -the help of our sixth sense, "the historical sense." As philosopher, -Schopenhauer was the _first_ avowed and inflexible atheist we Germans -have had: his hostility to Hegel had here its motive. The non-divinity -of existence was regarded by him as something understood, palpable, -indisputable; he always lost his philosophical composure and got -into a passion when he saw anyone hesitate and beat about the bush -here. It is at this point that his thorough uprightness of character -comes in: unconditional, honest atheism is precisely the _preliminary -condition_ for his raising the problem, as a final and hardwon victory -of the European conscience, as the most prolific act of two thousand -years' discipline to truth, which in the end no longer tolerates the -_lie_ of the belief in a God.... One sees what has really gained the -victory over the Christian God--, Christian morality itself, the -conception of veracity, taken ever more strictly, the confessional -subtlety of the Christian conscience, translated and sublimated to -the scientific conscience, to intellectual purity at any price. To -look upon nature as if it were a proof of the goodness and care of a -God; to interpret history in honour of a divine reason, as a constant -testimony to a moral order in the world and a moral final purpose; to -explain personal experiences as pious men have long enough explained -them, as if everything were a dispensation or intimation of Providence, -something planned and sent on behalf of the salvation of the soul: all -that is now _past,_ it has conscience _against_ it, it is regarded -by all the more acute consciences as disreputable and dishonourable, -as mendaciousness, femininism, weakness, and cowardice,--by virtue -of this severity, if by anything, we are _good_ Europeans, the heirs -of Europe's longest and bravest self-conquest. When we thus reject -the Christian interpretation, and condemn its "significance" as a -forgery, we are immediately confronted in a striking manner with the -_Schopenhauerian_ question: _Has existence then a significance at -all?_--the question which will require a couple of centuries even to -be completely heard in all its profundity. Schopenhauer's own answer -to this question was--if I may be forgiven for saying so--a premature, -juvenile reply, a mere compromise, a stoppage and sticking in the very -same Christian-ascetic, moral perspectives, _the belief in which had -got notice to quit_ along with the belief in God.... But he _raised_ -the question--as a good European, as we have said, and _not_ as a -German.--Or did the Germans prove at least by the way in which they -seized on the Schopenhauerian question, their inner connection and -relationship to him, their preparation for his problem, and their -_need_ of it? That there has been thinking and printing even in Germany -since Schopenhauer's time on the problem raised by him,--it was late -enough!--does not at all suffice to enable us to decide in favour -of this closer relationship; one could, on the contrary, lay great -stress on the peculiar _awkwardness_ of this post-Schopenhauerian -Pessimism--Germans evidently do not behave themselves here as in -their element. I do not at all allude here to Eduard von Hartmann; -on the contrary, my old suspicion is not vanished even at present -that he is _too clever_ for us; I mean to say that as arrant rogue -from the very first, he did not perhaps make merry solely over German -Pessimism--and that in the end he might probably "bequeathe" to them -the truth as to how far a person could bamboozle the Germans themselves -in the age of bubble companies. But further, are we perhaps to reckon -to the honour of Germans, the old humming-top, Bahnsen, who all his -life spun about with the greatest pleasure around his realistically -dialectic misery and "personal ill-luck,"--was _that_ German? (In -passing I recommend his writings for the purpose for which I myself -have used them, as anti-pessimistic fare, especially on account of his -_elegantia psychologica,_ which, it seems to me, could alleviate even -the most constipated body and soul). Or would it be proper to count -such dilettanti and old maids as the mawkish apostle of virginity, -Mainländer, among the genuine Germans? After all he was probably a Jew -(all Jews become mawkish when they moralise). Neither Bahnsen, nor -Mainländer, nor even Eduard von Hartmann, give us a reliable grasp of -the question whether the pessimism of Schopenhauer (his frightened -glance into an undeified world, which has become stupid, blind, -deranged and problematic, his _honourable_ fright) was not only an -exceptional case among Germans, but a _German_ event: while everything -else which stands in the foreground, like our valiant politics and -our joyful Jingoism (which decidedly enough regards everything with -reference to a principle sufficiently unphilosophical: _"Deutschland, -Deutschland, über Alles"_[2] consequently _sub specie speciei,_ namely, -the German _species_), testifies very plainly to the contrary. No! -The Germans of to-day are _not_ pessimists! And Schopenhauer was a -pessimist, I repeat it once more, as a good European, and _not_ as a -German. - - -[2] "_Germany, Germany, above all_": the first line of the German -national song.--TR. - - - -358. - -_The Peasant Revolt of the Spirit._--We Europeans find ourselves in -view of an immense world of ruins, where some things still tower aloft, -while other objects stand mouldering and dismal, where most things -however already lie on the ground, picturesque enough--where were there -ever finer ruins?--overgrown with weeds, large and small. It is the -Church which is this city of decay: we see the religious organisation -of Christianity shaken to its deepest foundations. The belief in God is -overthrown, the belief in the Christian ascetic ideal is now fighting -its last fight. Such a long and solidly built work as Christianity--it -was the last construction of the Romans!--could not of course be -demolished..all at once; every sort of earthquake had to shake it, -every sort of spirit which perforates, digs, gnaws and moulders had -to assist in the work of destruction. But that which is strangest is -that those who have exerted themselves most to retain and preserve -Christianity, have been precisely those who did most to destroy -it,--the Germans. It seems that the Germans do not understand the -essence of a Church. Are they not spiritual enough, or not distrustful -enough to do so? In any case the structure of the Church rests on -a _southern_ freedom and liberality of spirit, and similarly on a -southern suspicion of nature, man, and spirit,--it rests on a knowledge -of man an experience of man, entirely different from what the north -has had. The Lutheran Reformation in all its length and breadth -was the indignation of the simple against something "complicated." -To speak cautiously, it was a coarse, honest misunderstanding, in -which much is to be forgiven,--people did not understand the mode of -expression of a _victorious_ Church, and only saw corruption; they -misunderstood the noble scepticism, the _luxury_ of scepticism and -toleration which every victorious, self-confident power permits.... -One overlooks the fact readily enough at present that as regards -all cardinal questions concerning power Luther was badly endowed; -he was fatally short-sighted, superficial and imprudent--and above -all, as a man sprung from the people, he lacked all the hereditary -qualities of a ruling caste, and all the instincts for power; so that -his work, his intention to restore the work of the Romans, merely -became involuntarily and unconsciously the commencement of a work of -destruction. He unravelled, he tore asunder with honest rage, where -the old spider had woven longest and most carefully. He gave the -sacred books into the hands of everyone,--they thereby got at last -into the hands of the philologists, that is to say, the annihilators -of every belief based upon books. He demolished the conception of "the -Church" in that he repudiated the belief in the inspiration of the -Councils: for only under the supposition that the inspiring spirit -which had founded the Church still lives in it, still builds it, -still goes on building its house, does the conception of "the Church" -retain its power. He gave back to the priest sexual intercourse: -but three-fourths of the reverence of which the people (and above -all the women of the people) are capable, rests on the belief that -an exceptional man in this respect will also be an exceptional man -in other respects. It is precisely here that the popular belief in -something superhuman in man, in a miracle, in the saving God in man, -has its most subtle and insidious advocate. After Luther had given a -wife to the priest, he had _to take from him_ auricular confession; -that was psychologically right: but thereby he practically did away -with the Christian priest himself, whose profoundest utility has ever -consisted I in his being a sacred ear, a silent well, and a grave for -secrets. "Every man his own priest"--behind such formulæ and their -bucolic slyness, there was concealed in Luther the profoundest hatred -of "higher men," and of the rule of "higher men," as the Church had -conceived them. Luther disowned an ideal which he did not know how -to attain, while he seemed to combat and detest the degeneration -thereof. As a matter of fact, he, the impossible monk, repudiated the -_rule_ of the _homines religiosi_; he consequently brought about -precisely the same thing within the ecclesiastical social order that -he combated so impatiently in the civic order,--namely a "peasant -insurrection."--As to all that grew out of his Reformation afterwards, -good and bad, which can at present be almost counted up--who would -be naïve enough to praise or blame Luther simply on account of these -results? He is innocent of all; he knew not what he did. The art of -making the European spirit shallower especially in the north, or more -_good-natured,_ if people would rather hear it designated by a moral -expression, undoubtedly took a clever step in advance in the Lutheran -Reformation; and similarly there grew out of it the mobility and -disquietude of the spirit, its thirst for independence, its belief in -the right to freedom, and its "naturalness." If people wish to ascribe -to the Reformation in the last instance the merit of having prepared -and favoured that which we at present honour as "modern science," -they must of course add that it is also accessory to bringing about -the degeneration of the modern scholar, with his lack of reverence, -of shame and of profundity; and that it is also responsible for all -naïve candour and plain-dealing in matters of knowledge, in short for -the _plebeianism of the spirit_ which is peculiar to the last two -centuries, and from which even pessimism hitherto, has not in any way -delivered us. "Modern ideas" also belong to this peasant insurrection -of the north against the colder, more ambiguous, more suspicious -spirit of the south, which has built itself its greatest monument in -the Christian Church. Let us not forget in the end what a Church is, -and especially in contrast to every "State": a Church is above all an -authoritative organisation which secures to the _most spiritual_ men -the highest rank, and _believes_ in the power of spirituality so far -as to forbid all grosser appliances of authority. Through this alone -the Church is under all circumstances a _nobler_ institution than the -State.-- - - -359. - -_Vengeance on Intellect, and other Backgrounds of -Morality._--Morality--where do you think it has its most dangerous and -rancorous advocates?--There, for example, is an ill-constituted man, -who does not possess enough of intellect to be able to take pleasure -in it, and just enough of culture to be aware of the fact; bored, -satiated, and a self-despiser; besides being cheated unfortunately by -some hereditary property out of the last consolation, the "blessing -of labour," the self-forgetfulness in the "day's work "; one who is -thoroughly ashamed of his existence--perhaps also harbouring some -vices,--and who on the other hand (by means of books to which he has no -right, or more intellectual society than he can digest), cannot help -vitiating himself more and more, and making himself vain and irritable: -such a thoroughly poisoned man--for intellect becomes poison, culture -becomes poison, possession becomes poison, solitude becomes poison, -to such ill-constituted beings--gets at last into a habitual state -of vengeance and inclination for vengeance.... What do you think he -finds necessary, absolutely necessary in order to give himself the -appearance in his own eyes of superiority over more intellectual men, -so as to give himself the delight of _perfect revenge,_ at least in -imagination? It is always _morality_ that he requires, one may wager -on it; always the big moral words, always the high-sounding words: -justice, wisdom, holiness, virtue; always the Stoicism of gestures (how -well Stoicism hides what one does _not_ possess!); always the mantle -of wise silence, of affability, of gentleness, and whatever else the -idealist-mantle is called, in which the incurable self-despisers and -also the incurably conceited walk about. Let me not be misunderstood: -out of such born _enemies of the spirit_ there arises now and then -the rare specimen of humanity who is honoured by the people under -the name of saint or sage: it is out of such men that there arise -those prodigies of morality that make a noise, and make history,--St -Augustine was one of these men. Fear of the intellect, vengeance on the -intellect--Oh! how often have these powerfully impelling vices become -the root of virtues! Yea, virtue _itself!_--And asking the question -among ourselves, even the philosopher's pretension to wisdom, which has -occasionally been made here and there on the earth, the maddest and -most immodest of all pretensions,--has it not always been _above all_ -in India as well as in Greece, _a means of concealment?_ Sometimes, -perhaps, from the point of view of education which hallows so many -lies, it is a tender regard for growing and evolving persons, for -disciples who have often to be guarded against themselves by means of -the belief in a person (by means of an error). In most cases, however, -it is a means of concealment for a philosopher, behind which he seeks -protection, owing to exhaustion, age, chilliness, or hardening; as a -feeling of the approaching end, as the sagacity of the instinct which -animals have before their death,--they go apart, remain at rest, choose -solitude, creep into caves, become _wise_.... What? Wisdom a means of -concealment of the philosopher from--intellect?-- - - -360. - -_Two Kinds of Causes which are Confounded._--It seems to me one of my -most essential steps and advances that I have learned to distinguish -the cause of an action generally from the cause of an action in a -particular manner, say, in this direction, with this aim. The first -kind of cause is a quantum of stored-up force, which waits to be used -in some manner, for some purpose; the second kind of cause, on the -contrary, is something quite unimportant in comparison with the first, -an insignificant hazard for the most part, in conformity with which -the quantum of force in question "discharges" itself in some unique -and definite manner: the lucifer-match in relation to the barrel of -gunpowder. Among those insignificant hazards and lucifer-matches I -count all the so-called "aims," and similarly the still more so-called -"occupations" of people: they are relatively optional, arbitrary, and -almost indifferent in relation to the immense quantum of force which -presses on, as we have said, to be used up in any way whatever. One -generally looks at the matter in a different manner: one is accustomed -to see the _impelling_ force precisely in the aim (object, calling, -&c.), according to a primeval error,--but it is only the _directing_ -force; the steersman and the steam have thereby been confounded. And -yet it is not even always a steersman, the directing force.... Is the -"aim" the "purpose," not often enough only an extenuating pretext, an -additional self-blinding of conceit, which does not wish it to be said -that the ship _follows_ the stream into which it has accidentally run? -That it "wishes" to go that way, _because_ it _must_ go that way? That -it has a direction, sure enough, but--not a steersman? We still require -a criticism of the conception of "purpose." - - -361. - -_The Problem of the Actor_--The problem of the actor has disquieted me -the longest; I was uncertain (and am sometimes so still) whether one -could not get at the dangerous conception of "artist"--a conception -hitherto treated with unpardonable leniency--from this point of view. -Falsity with a good conscience; delight in dissimulation breaking forth -as power, pushing aside, overflowing, and sometimes extinguishing -the so-called "character"; the inner longing to play a rôle, to -assume a mask, to put on an _appearance;_ a surplus of capacity for -adaptations of every kind, which can no longer gratify themselves in -the service of the nearest and narrowest utility: all that perhaps -does not pertain _solely_ to the actor in himself?... Such an instinct -would develop most readily in families of the lower class of the -people, who have had to pass their lives in absolute dependence, under -shifting pressure and constraint, who (to accommodate themselves to -their conditions, to adapt themselves always to new circumstances) -had again and again to pass themselves off and represent themselves -as different persons,--thus having gradually qualified themselves to -adjust the mantle to _every_ wind, thereby almost becoming the mantle -itself, as masters of the embodied and incarnated art of eternally -playing the game of hide and seek, which one calls _mimicry_ among the -animals:--until at last this ability, stored up from generation to -generation, has become domineering, irrational and intractable, till as -instinct it begins to command the other instincts, and begets the actor -and "artist" (the buffoon, the pantaloon, the Jack-Pudding, the fool, -and the clown in the first place, also the classical type of servant, -Gil Blas: for in such types one has the precursors of the artist, and -often enough even of the "genius"). Also under higher social conditions -there grows under similar pressure a similar species of men: only the -histrionic instinct is there for the most part held strictly in check -by another instinct, for example, among "diplomatists";--for the rest, -I should think that it would always be open to a good diplomatist to -become a good actor on the stage, provided his dignity "allowed" it. As -regards the _Jews,_ however, the adaptable people _par excellence,_ we -should, in conformity to this line of thought, expect to see among them -a world-wide historical institution at the very first, for the rearing -of actors, a proper breeding-place for actors; and in fact the question -is very pertinent just now: what good actor at present is _not--_a -Jew? The Jew also, as a born literary man, as the actual ruler of the -European press, exercises this power on the basis of his histrionic -capacity: for the literary man is essentially an actor,--he plays the -part of "expert," of "specialist."--Finally _women._ If we consider -the whole history of women, are they not _obliged_ first of all, and -above all to be actresses? If we listen to doctors who have hypnotised -women, or, finally, if we love them--and let ourselves be "hypnotised" -by them--what is always divulged thereby? That they "give themselves -airs," even when they--"give themselves." ... Woman is so artistic ... - - -362. - -_My Belief in the Virilising of Europe._--We owe it to Napoleon (and -not at all to the French Revolution, which had in view the "fraternity" -of the nations, and the florid interchange of good graces among people -generally) that several warlike centuries, which have not had their -like in past history, may now follow one another--in short, that we -have entered upon _the classical age of war,_ war at the same time -scientific and popular, on the grandest scale (as regards means, -talents and discipline), to which all coming millenniums will look back -with envy and awe as a work of perfection:--for the national movement -out of which this martial glory springs, is only the counter_-choc_ -against Napoleon, and would not have existed without him. To him, -consequently, one will one day be able to attribute the fact that -_man_ in Europe has again got the upper hand of the merchant and the -Philistine; perhaps even of "woman" also, who has become pampered owing -to Christianity and the extravagant spirit of the eighteenth century, -and still more owing to "modern ideas." Napoleon, who saw in modern -ideas, and accordingly in civilisation, something like a personal -enemy, has by this hostility proved himself one of the greatest -continuators of the Renaissance: he has brought to the surface a whole -block of the ancient character, the decisive block perhaps, the block -of granite. And who knows but that this block of ancient character -will in the end get the upper hand of the national movement, and will -have to make itself in a _positive_ sense the heir and continuator of -Napoleon:--who, as one knows, wanted _one_ Europe, which was to be -_mistress of the world._-- - - -363. - -_How each Sex has its Prejudice about Love.--_Notwithstanding all the -concessions which I am inclined to make to the monogamie prejudice, I -will never admit that we should speak of _equal_ rights in the love -of man and woman: there are no such equal rights. The reason is that -man and woman understand something different by the term love,--and it -belongs to the conditions of love in both sexes that the one sex does -_not_ presuppose the same feeling, the same conception of "love," in -the other sex. What woman understands by love is clear enough: complete -surrender (not merely devotion) of soul and body, without any motive, -without any reservation, rather with shame and terror at the thought -of a devotion restricted by clauses or associated with conditions. In -this absence of conditions her love is precisely a _faith:_ woman has -no other.--Man, when he loves a woman, _wants_ precisely this love from -her; he is consequently, as regards himself, furthest removed from the -prerequisites of feminine love; granted, however, that there should -also be men to whom on their side the demand for complete devotion is -not unfamiliar,--well, they are really--not men. A man who loves like a -woman becomes thereby a slave; a woman, however, who loves like a woman -becomes thereby a _more perfect_ woman. ... The passion of woman in its -unconditional renunciation of its own rights presupposes in fact that -there does _not_ exist on the other side an equal _pathos,_ an equal -desire for renunciation: for if both renounced themselves out of love, -there would result--well, I don't know what, perhaps a _horror vacui?_ -Woman wants to be taken and accepted as a possession, she wishes to be -merged in the conceptions of "possession" and "possessed"; consequently -she wants one who _takes,_ who does not offer and give himself away, -but who reversely is rather to be made richer in "himself"--by the -increase of power, happiness and faith which the woman herself gives -to him. Woman gives herself, man takes her.--I do not think one will -get over this natural contrast by any social contract, or with the very -best will to do justice, however desirable it may be to avoid bringing -the severe, frightful, enigmatical, and unmoral elements of this -antagonism constantly before our eyes. For love, regarded as complete, -great, and full, is nature, and as nature, is to all eternity something -"unmoral."_--Fidelity_ is accordingly included in woman's love, it -follows from the definition thereof; with man fidelity _may_ readily -result in consequence of his love, perhaps as gratitude or idiosyncrasy -of taste, and so-called elective affinity, but it does not belong -to the _essence_ of his love--and indeed so little, that one might -almost be entitled to speak of a natural opposition between love and -fidelity in man, whose love is just a desire to possess, and _not_ a -renunciation and giving away; the desire to possess, however, comes -to an end every time with the possession.... As a matter of fact it -is the more subtle and jealous thirst for possession in a man (who is -rarely and tardily convinced of having this "possession"), which makes -his love continue; in that case it is even possible that his love may -increase after the surrender,--he does not readily own that a woman has -nothing more to "surrender" to him.-- - - -364. - -_The Anchorite Speaks._--The art of associating with men rests -essentially on one's skilfulness (which presupposes long exercise) in -accepting a repast, in taking a repast, in the cuisine of which one has -no confidence. Provided one comes to the table with the hunger of a -wolf everything is easy "the worst society gives thee _experience_"-- -Mephistopheles says; but one has not always this wolf's-hunger when -one needs it! Alas! how difficult are our fellow-men to digest! -First principle: to stake one's courage as in a misfortune, to seize -boldly, to admire oneself at the same time, to take one's repugnance -between one's teeth, to cram down one's disgust. Second principle: -to "improve" one's fellow-man, by praise for example, so that he may -begin to sweat out his self-complacency; or to seize a tuft of his good -or "interesting" qualities, and pull at it till one gets his whole -virtue out, and can put him under the folds of it. Third principle: -self-hypnotism. To fix one's eye on the object of one's intercourse as -on a glass knob, until, ceasing to feel pleasure or pain thereat, one -falls asleep unobserved, becomes rigid, and acquires a fixed pose: a -household recipe used in married life and in friendship, well tested -and prized as indispensable, but not yet scientifically formulated. Its -proper name is--patience.-- - - -365. - -_The Anchorite Speaks once more._--We also have intercourse with "men," -we also modestly put on the clothes in which people know us (_as -such,_) respect us and seek us; and we thereby mingle in society, that -is to say, among the disguised who do not wish to be so called; we also -do like a prudent masqueraders, and courteously dismiss all curiosity -which has not reference merely to our "clothes" There are however other -modes and artifices for "going about" among men and associating with -them: for example, as a ghost,-which is very advisable when one wants -to scare them, and get rid of them easily. An example: a person grasps -at us, and is unable to seize us. That frightens him. Or we enter by -a closed door. Or when the lights are extinguished. Or after we are -dead The latter is the artifice of _posthumous_ men _par excellence._ -("What?" said such a one once impatiently, "do you think we should -delight in enduring this strangeness, coldness, death-stillness about -us, all this subterranean, hidden, dim, undiscovered solitude, which -is called life with us, and might just as well be called death, if we -were not conscious of what _will arise_ out of us,--and that only after -our death shall we attain to _our_ life and become living, ah! very -living! we posthumous men!"--) - - -366. - -_At the Sight of a Learned Book._--We do not belong to those who only -get their thoughts from books, or at the prompting of books,--it is -our custom to think in the open air, walking, leaping, climbing, or -dancing on lonesome mountains by preference, or close to the sea, where -even the paths become thoughtful. Our first question concerning the -value of a book, a man, or a piece of music is: Can it walk? or still -better: Can it dance?... We seldom read; we do not read the worse -for that--oh, how quickly we divine how a person has arrived at his -thoughts:--if it is by sitting before an ink-bottle with compressed -belly and head bent over the paper: oh, how quickly we are then done -with his book! The constipated bowels betray themselves, one may wager -on it, just as the atmosphere of the room, the ceiling of the room, the -smallness of the room, betray themselves.--These were my feelings when -closing a straightforward, learned book, thankful, very thankful, but -also relieved.... In the book of a learned man there is almost always -something oppressive and oppressed: the "specialist" comes to light -somewhere, his ardour, his seriousness, his wrath, his over-estimation -of the nook in which he sits and spins, his hump--every specialist has -his hump. A learned book also always mirrors a distorted soul: every -trade distorts. Look at our friends again with whom we have spent -our youth, after they have taken possession of their science: alas! -how the reverse has always taken place! Alas! how they themselves -are now for ever occupied and possessed by their science! Grown into -their nook, crumpled into unrecognisability, constrained, deprived -of their equilibrium, emaciated and angular everywhere, perfectly -round only in one place,--we are moved and silent when we find them -so. Every handicraft, granting even that it has a golden floor,[3] -has also a leaden ceiling above it, which presses and presses on the -soul, till it is pressed into a strange and distorted shape. There is -nothing to alter here. We need not think that it is at all possible -to obviate this disfigurement by any educational artifice whatever. -Every kind of _perfection_ is purchased at a high price on earth, where -everything is perhaps purchased too dear; one is an expert in one's -department at the price of being also a victim of one's department. -But you want to have it otherwise--"more reasonable," above all more -convenient--is it not so, my dear contemporaries? Very well! But then -you will also immediately get something different: instead of the -craftsman and expert, you will get the literary man, the versatile, -"many-sided "littérateur, who to be sure lacks the hump--not taking -account of the hump or bow which he makes before you as the shopman -of the intellect and the "porter" of culture--, the littérateur, who -_is_ really nothing, but "represents" almost everything: he plays -and "represents" the expert, he also takes it upon himself in all -modesty _to see that he is_ paid, honoured and celebrated in this -position.--No, my learned friends! I bless you even on account of -your humps! And also because like me you despise the littérateurs -and parasites of culture! And because you do not know how to make -merchandise of your intellect! And have so many opinions which cannot -be expressed in money value! And because you do not represent anything -which you _are_ not! Because your sole desire is to become masters -of your craft; because you reverence every kind of mastership and -ability, and repudiate with the most relentless scorn everything of a -make-believe, half-genuine, dressed-up, virtuoso, demagogic, histrionic -nature in _litteris et artibus_--all that which does not convince you -by its absolute _genuineness_ of discipline and preparatory training, -or cannot stand your test! (Even genius does not help a person to get -over such a defect, however well it may be able to deceive with regard -to it: one understands this if one has once looked closely at our most -gifted painters and musicians,--who almost without exception, can -artificially and supplementarily appropriate to themselves (by means -of artful inventions of style, make-shifts, and even principles), -the _appearance_ of that genuineness, that solidity of training and -culture; to be sure, without thereby deceiving themselves, without -thereby imposing perpetual silence on their bad consciences. For -you know of course that all great modern artists suffer from bad -consciences?...) - - -[3] An allusion to the German Proverb, "Handwerk hat einen goldenen -Boden."--TR. - - -367. - -_How one has to Distinguish first of all in Works of Art--_Everything -that is thought, versified, painted and composed, yea, even built and -moulded, belongs either to monologic art, or to art before witnesses. -Under the latter there is also to be included the apparently monologic -art which involves the belief in God, the whole lyric of prayer; -because for a pious man there is no solitude,--we, the godless, have -been the first to devise this invention. I know of no profounder -distinction in all the perspective of the artist than this: Whether he -looks at his growing work of art (at "himself--") with the eye of the -witness; or whether he "has forgotten the world," as is the essential -thing in all monologic art,--it rests _on forgetting,_ it is the music -of forgetting. - - -368. - -_The Cynic Speaks.--_My objections to Wagner's music are physiological -objections. Why should I therefore begin by disguising them Under -æsthetic formulæ? My "point" is that I can no longer breathe freely -when this music begins to operate on me; my _foot_ immediately becomes -indignant at it and rebels: for what it needs is time, dance and -march; it demands first of all from music the ecstasies which are in -_good_ walking, striding, leaping and dancing. But do not my stomach, -my heart, my blood and my bowels also protest? Do I not become hoarse -unawares under its influence? And then I ask myself what my body really -_wants_ from music generally. I believe it wants to have _relief:_ -so that all animal functions should be accelerated by means of light, -bold, unfettered, self-assured rhythms; so that brazen, leaden life -should be gilded by means of golden, good, tender harmonies. My -melancholy would fain rest its head in the hiding-places and abysses -of _perfection:_ for this reason I need music. What do I care for the -drama! What do I care for the spasms of its moral ecstasies, in which -the "people" have their satisfaction! What do I care for the whole -pantomimic hocus-pocus of the actor!... It will now be divined that I -am essentially anti-theatrical at heart,--but Wagner on the contrary, -was essentially a man of the stage and an actor, the most enthusiastic -mummer-worshipper that has ever existed, even among musicians!... And -let it be said in passing that if Wagner's theory was that "drama is -the object, and music is only the means to it,"--his _practice_ on the -contrary from beginning to end has been to the effect that "attitude -is the object, drama and even music can never be anything else but -means to _this._" Music as a means of elucidating, strengthening and -intensifying dramatic poses and the actor's appeal to the senses, and -Wagnerian drama only an opportunity for a number of dramatic attitudes! -Wagner possessed, along with all other instincts, the dictatorial -instinct of a great actor in all and everything, and as has been said, -also as a musician.--I once made this clear with some trouble to a -thorough-going Wagnerian, and I had reasons for adding:--"Do be a -little more honest with yourself: we are not now in the theatre. In -the theatre we are only honest in the mass; as individuals we lie, -we belie even ourselves. We leave ourselves at home when we go to the -theatre; we there renounce the right to our own tongue and choice, to -our taste, and even to our courage as we possess it and practise it -within our own four walls in relation to God and man. No one takes his -finest taste in art into the theatre with him, not even the artist -who works for the theatre: there one is people, public, herd, woman, -Pharisee, voting animal, democrat, neighbour, and fellow-creature; -there even the most personal conscience succumbs to the levelling -charm of the 'great multitude'; there stupidity operates as wantonness -and contagion; there the neighbour rules, there one _becomes_ a -neighbour...." (I have forgotten to mention what my enlightened -Wagnerian answered to my physiological objections: "So the fact is that -you are really not healthy enough for our music?"--) - - -369. - -_Juxtapositions in us._--Must we not acknowledge to ourselves, we -artists, that there is a strange discrepancy in us; that on the one -hand our taste, and on the other hand our creative power, keep apart in -an extraordinary manner, continue apart, and have a separate growth;--I -mean to say that they have entirely different gradations and _tempi_ of -age, youth, maturity, mellowness and rottenness? So that, for example, -a musician could all his life create things which _contradicted_ -all that his ear and heart, spoilt for listening, prized, relished -and preferred:--he would not even require to be aware of the -contradiction! As an almost painfully regular experience shows, a -person's taste can easily outgrow the taste of his power, even without -the latter being thereby paralysed or checked in its productivity. The -reverse, however, can also to some extent take place,--and it is to -this especially that I should like to direct the attention of artists. -A constant producer, a man who is a "mother" in the grand sense of the -term, one who no longer knows or hears of anything except pregnancies -and child-beds of his spirit, who has no time at all to reflect and -make comparisons with regard to himself and his work, who is also no -longer inclined to exercise his taste, but simply forgets it, letting -it take its chance of standing, lying or falling,--perhaps such a man -at last produces works _on which he is then quite unfit to pass a -judgment:_ so that he speaks and thinks foolishly about them and about -himself. This seems to me almost the normal condition with fruitful -artists,--nobody knows a child worse than its parents--and the rule -applies even (to take an immense example) to the entire Greek world of -poetry and art, which was never "conscious" of what it had done.... - - -370. - -_What is Romanticism?_--It will be remembered perhaps, at least among -my friends, that at first I assailed the modern world with some -gross errors and exaggerations, but at any rate with _hope_ in my -heart. I recognised--who knows from what personal experiences?--the -philosophical pessimism of the nineteenth century as the symptom of a -higher power of thought, a more daring courage and a more triumphant -_plenitude_ of life than had been characteristic of the eighteenth -century, the age of Hume, Kant, Condillac, and the sensualists: so that -the tragic view of things seemed to me the peculiar _luxury_ of our -culture, its most precious, noble, and dangerous mode of prodigality; -but nevertheless, in view of its overflowing wealth, a _justifiable_ -luxury. In the same way I interpreted for myself German music as the -expression of a Dionysian power in the German soul: I thought I heard -in it the earthquake by means of which a primeval force that had been -imprisoned for ages was finally finding vent--indifferent as to whether -all that usually calls itself culture was thereby made to totter. It -is obvious that I then misunderstood what constitutes the veritable -character both of philosophical pessimism and of German music,--namely, -their _Romanticism._ What is Romanticism? Every art and every -philosophy may be regarded as a healing and helping appliance in the -service of growing, struggling life: they always presuppose suffering -and sufferers. But there are two kinds of sufferers: on the one hand -those that suffer from _overflowing vitality,_ who need Dionysian art, -and require a tragic view and insight into life; and on the other hand -those who suffer from _reduced vitality,_ who seek repose, quietness, -calm seas, and deliverance from themselves through art or knowledge, -or else intoxication, spasm, bewilderment and madness. All Romanticism -in art and knowledge responds to the twofold craving of the _latter;_ -to them Schopenhauer as well as Wagner responded (and responds),--to -name those most celebrated and decided romanticists, who were then -_misunderstood_ by me (_not_ however to their disadvantage, as may be -reasonably conceded to me). The being richest in overflowing vitality, -the Dionysian God and man, may not only allow himself the spectacle -of the horrible and questionable, but even the fearful deed itself, -and all the luxury of destruction, disorganisation and negation. With -him evil, senselessness and ugliness seem as it were licensed, in -consequence of the overflowing plenitude of procreative, fructifying -power, which can convert every desert into a luxuriant orchard. -Conversely, the greatest sufferer, the man poorest in vitality, would -have most need of mildness, peace and kindliness in thought and -action: he would need, if possible, a God who is specially the God -of the sick, a "Saviour"; similarly he would have need of logic, the -abstract intelligibility of existence--for logic soothes and gives -confidence;--in short he would need a certain warm, fear-dispelling -narrowness and imprisonment within optimistic horizons. In this manner -I gradually began to understand Epicurus, the opposite of a Dionysian -pessimist;--in a similar manner also the "Christian," who in fact is -only a type of Epicurean, and like him essentially a romanticist:--and -my vision has always become keener in tracing that most difficult and -insidious of all forms of _retrospective inference,_ in which, most -mistakes have been made--the inference from the work to its author from -the deed to its doer, from the ideal to him who _needs_ it, from every -mode of thinking and valuing to the imperative _want_ behind it.--In -regard to all æsthetic values I now avail myself of this radical -distinction: I ask in every single case, "Has hunger or superfluity -become creative here?" At the outset another distinction might seem to -recommend itself more--it is far more conspicuous,--namely, to have in -view whether the desire for rigidity, for perpetuation, for _being_ is -the cause of the creating, or the desire for destruction, for change, -for the new, for the future--for _becoming._ But when looked at more -carefully, both these kinds of desire prove themselves ambiguous, and -are explicable precisely according to the before-mentioned, and, as it -seems to me, rightly preferred scheme. The desire for _destruction,_ -change and becoming, may be the expression of overflowing power, -pregnant with futurity (my _terminus_ for this is of course the word -"Dionysian"); but it may also be the hatred of the ill-constituted, -destitute and unfortunate, which destroys, and _must_ destroy, because -the enduring, yea, all that endures, in fact all being, excites and -provokes it. To understand this emotion we have but to look closely at -our anarchists. The will to _perpetuation_ requires equally a double -interpretation. It may on the one hand proceed from gratitude and -love:--art of this origin will always be an art of apotheosis, perhaps -dithyrambic, as with Rubens, mocking divinely, as with Hafiz, or clear -and kind-hearted as with Goethe, and spreading a Homeric brightness -and glory over everything (in this case I speak of _Apollonian_ art). -It may also, however, be the tyrannical will of a sorely-suffering, -struggling or tortured being, who would like to stamp his most -personal, individual and narrow characteristics, the very idiosyncrasy -of his suffering, as an obligatory law and constraint on others; who, -as it were, takes revenge on all things, in that he imprints, enforces -and brands _his_ image, the image of _his_ torture, upon them. The -latter is _romantic pessimism_ in its most extreme form, whether it be -as Schopenhauerian will-philosophy, or as Wagnerian music:--romantic -pessimism, the last _great_ event in the destiny of our civilisation. -(That there _may be_ quite a different kind of pessimism, a classical -pessimism--this presentiment and vision belongs to me, as something -inseparable from me, as my _proprium_ and _ipsissimum;_ only that the -word "classical" is repugnant to my ears, it has become far too worn, -too indefinite and indistinguishable. I call that pessimism of the -future,--for it is coming! I see it coming!--_Dionysian_ pessimism.) - - -371. - -_We Unintelligible Ones._--Have we ever complained among ourselves of -being misunderstood, misjudged, and confounded with others; of being -calumniated, misheard, and not heard? That is just our lot--alas, -for a long time yet! say, to be modest, until 1901--, it is also our -distinction; we should not have sufficient respect for ourselves if -we wished it otherwise. People confound us with others--the reason -of it is that we ourselves grow, we change continually, we cast off -old bark, we still slough every spring, we always become younger, -higher, stronger, as men of the future, we thrust our roots always -more powerfully into the deep--into evil--, while at the same time we -embrace the heavens ever more lovingly, more extensively, and suck in -their light ever more eagerly with all our branches and leaves. We grow -like trees--that is difficult to understand, like all life!--not in -one place, but everywhere, not in one direction only, but upwards and -outwards, as well as inwards and downwards. At the same time our force -shoots forth in stem, branches, and roots; we are really no longer free -to do anything separately, or to _be_ anything separately.... Such is -our lot, as we have said: we grow in _height;_ and even should it be -our calamity--for we dwell ever closer to the lightning!--well, we -honour it none the less on that account; it is that which we do not -wish to share with others, which we do not wish to bestow upon others, -the fate of all elevation, _our_ fate.... - - -372. - -_Why we are not Idealists.--_Formerly philosophers were afraid of -the senses: have we, perhaps, been far too forgetful of this fear? -We are at present all of us sensualists, we representatives of the -present and of the future in philosophy,--_not_ according to theory, -however, but in _praxis,_ in practice.... Those former philosophers, -on the contrary, thought that the senses lured them out of _their_ -world, the cold realm of "ideas," to a dangerous southern island, -where they were afraid that their philosopher-virtues would melt away -like snow in the sun. "Wax in the ears," was then almost a condition -of philosophising; a genuine philosopher no longer listened to life, -in so far as life is music, he _denied_ the music of life--it is an -old philosophical superstition that all music is Sirens' music.--Now -we should be inclined at the present day to judge precisely in the -opposite manner (which in itself might be just as false), and to regard -_ideas,_ with their cold, anæmic appearance, and not even in spite of -this appearance, as worse seducers than the senses. They have always -lived on the "blood" of the philosopher, they always consumed his -senses, and indeed, if you will believe me, his "heart" as well. Those -old philosophers were heartless: philosophising was always a species -of vampirism. At the sight of such figures even as Spinoza, do you -not feel a profoundly enigmatical and disquieting sort of impression? -Do you not see the drama which is here performed, the constantly -_increasing pallor_--, the spiritualisation always more ideally -displayed? Do you not imagine some long-concealed blood-sucker in the -background, which makes its beginning with the senses, and in the end -retains or leaves behind nothing but bones and their rattling?--I mean -categories, formulæ, and _words_(for you will pardon me in saying that -what _remains_ of Spinoza, _amor intellectualis dei,_ is rattling and -nothing more! What is _amor,_ what is _deus,_ when they have lost -every drop of blood?...) _In summa:_ all philosophical idealism has -hitherto been something like a disease, where it has not been, as -in the case of Plato, the prudence of superabundant and dangerous -healthfulness, the fear of _overpowerful_ senses, and the wisdom of a -wise Socratic.--Perhaps, is it the case that we moderns are merely not -sufficiently sound _to require_ Plato's idealism? And we do not fear -the senses because---- - - -373. - -_"Science" as Prejudice_.--It follows from the laws of class -distinction that the learned, in so far as they belong to the -intellectual middle-class, are debarred from getting even a sight of -the really _great_ problems and notes of interrogation. Besides, their -courage, and similarly their outlook, does not reach so far,--and -above all, their need, which makes them investigators, their innate -anticipation and desire that things should be constituted _in such and -such a way_, their fears and hopes are too soon quieted and set at -rest. For example, that which makes the pedantic Englishman, Herbert -Spencer, so enthusiastic in his way, and impels him to draw a line of -hope, a horizon of desirability, the final reconciliation of "egoism -and altruism" of which he dreams,--that almost causes nausea to people -like us:--a humanity with such Spencerian perspectives as ultimate -perspectives would seem to us deserving of contempt, of extermination! -But the _fact_ that something has to be taken by him as his highest -hope, which is regarded, and may well be regarded, by others merely as -a distasteful possibility, is a note of interrogation which Spencer -could not have foreseen.... It is just the same with the belief with -which at present so many materialistic natural-scientists are content, -the belief in a world which is supposed to have its equivalent and -measure in human thinking and human valuations, a "world of truth" -at which we might be able ultimately to arrive with the help of our -insignificant, four-cornered human reason! What? do we actually wish -to have existence debased in that fashion to a ready-reckoner exercise -and calculation for stay-at-home mathematicians? We should not, above -all, seek to divest existence of its _ambiguous_ character: _good_ -taste forbids it, gentlemen, the taste of reverence for everything that -goes beyond your horizon! That a world-interpretation is alone right by -which _you_ maintain your position, by which investigation and work can -go on scientifically in _your_ sense (you really mean _mechanically?_), -an interpretation which acknowledges numbering, calculating, weighing, -seeing and handling, and nothing more--such an idea is a piece of -grossness and naïvety, provided it is not lunacy and idiocy. Would the -reverse not be quite probable, that the most superficial and external -characters of existence--its most apparent quality, its outside, its -embodiment--should let themselves be apprehended first? perhaps alone -allow themselves to be apprehended? A "scientific" interpretation of -the world as you understand it might consequently still be one of the -_stupidest,_ that is to say, the most destitute of significance, of -all possible world-interpretations--I say this in confidence to my -friends the Mechanicians, who to-day like to hobnob with philosophers, -and absolutely believe that mechanics is the teaching of the first and -last laws upon which, as upon a ground-floor, all existence must be -built. But an essentially mechanical world would be an essentially -_meaningless_ world! Supposing we valued the _worth_ of a music with -reference to how much it could be counted, calculated, or formulated ---how absurd such a "scientific" estimate of music would be! What -would one have apprehended, understood, or discerned in it! Nothing, -absolutely nothing of what is really "music" in it!... - - -374. - -_Our new "Infinite"_--How far the perspective character of existence -extends, or whether it have any other character at all, whether -an existence without explanation, without "sense" does not just -become "nonsense," whether, on the other hand, all existence is not -essentially an _explaining_ existence--these questions, as is right and -proper, cannot be determined even by the most diligent and severely -conscientious analysis and self-examination of the intellect, because -in this analysis the human intellect cannot avoid seeing itself in its -perspective forms, and _only_ in them. We cannot see round our corner: -it is hopeless curiosity to want to know what other modes of intellect -and perspective there _might_ be: for example, whether any kind of -being could perceive time backwards, or alternately forwards and -backwards (by which another direction of life and another conception -of cause and effect would be given). But I think that we are to-day -at least far from the ludicrous immodesty of decreeing from our nook -that there _can_ only be legitimate perspectives from that nook. The -world, on the contrary, has once more become "infinite" to us: in -so far we cannot dismiss the possibility that it _contains infinite -interpretations._ Once more the great horror seizes us--but who would -desire forthwith to deify once more _this_ monster of an unknown -world in the old fashion? And perhaps worship _the_ unknown thing as -_the_ "unknown person" in future? Ah! there are too many _ungodly_ -possibilities of interpretation comprised in this unknown, too much -devilment, stupidity and folly of interpretation,--our own human, all -too human interpretation itself, which we know.... - - -375. - -_Why we Seem to be Epicureans._--We are cautious, we modern men, -with regard to final convictions, our distrust lies in wait for the -enchantments and tricks of conscience involved in every strong belief, -in every absolute Yea and Nay: how is this explained? Perhaps one may -see in it a good deal of the caution of the "burnt child," of the -disillusioned idealist; but one may also see in it another and better -element, the joyful curiosity of a former lingerer in a corner, who -has been brought to despair by his nook, and now luxuriates and revels -in its antithesis, in the unbounded, in the "open air in itself." Thus -there is developed an almost Epicurean inclination for knowledge, which -does not readily lose sight of the questionable character of things; -likewise also a repugnance to pompous moral phrases and attitudes, a -taste that repudiates all coarse, square contrasts, and is proudly -conscious of its habitual reserve. For _this too_ constitutes our -pride, this easy tightening of the reins in our headlong impulse -after certainty, this self-control of the rider in his most furious -riding: for now, as of old, we have mad, fiery steeds under us, and if -we delay, it is certainly least of all the danger which causes us to -delay.... - - -376. - -_Our Slow Periods._--It is thus that artists feel, and all men of -"works," the maternal species of men: they always believe at every -chapter of their life--a work always makes a chapter--that they have -now reached the goal itself; they would always patiently accept death -with the feeling: "we are ripe for it." This is not the expression -of exhaustion,--but rather that of a certain autumnal sunniness and -mildness, which the work itself, the maturing of the work, always -leaves behind in its originator. Then the _tempo_ of life slows -down--turns thick and flows with honey--into long pauses, into the -belief in _the_ long pause.... - - -377. - -_We Homeless Ones.--_Among the Europeans of to-day there are not -lacking those who may call themselves homeless ones in a way which -is at once a distinction and an honour; it is by them that my secret -wisdom and _gaya scienza_ is especially to be laid to heart! For -their lot is hard, their hope uncertain; it is a clever feat to -devise consolation for them. But what good does it do! We children -of the future, how _could_ we be at home in the present? We are -unfavourable to all ideals which could make us feel at home in this -frail, broken-down, transition period; and as regards the "realities" -thereof, we do not believe in their _endurance. _ The ice which still -carries has become very thin: the thawing wind blows; we ourselves, -the homeless ones, are an agency that breaks the ice, and the other -too thin "realities."... We "preserve" nothing, nor would we return -to any past age; we are not at all "liberal," we do not labour for -"progress," we do not need first to stop our ears to the song of -the market-place and the sirens of the future--their song of "equal -rights," "free society," "no longer either lords or slaves," does not -allure us! We do not by any means think it desirable that the kingdom -of righteousness and peace should be established on earth (because -under any circumstances it would be the kingdom of the profoundest -mediocrity and Chinaism); we rejoice in all men, who like ourselves -love danger, war and adventure, who do not make compromises, nor let -themselves be captured, conciliated and stunted; we count ourselves -among the conquerors; we ponder over the need of a new order of -things, even of a new slavery--for every strengthening and elevation -of the type "man" also involves a new form of slavery. Is it not -obvious that with all this we must feel ill at ease in an age which -claims the honour of being the most humane, gentle and just that the -sun has ever seen? What a pity that at the mere mention of these -fine words, the thoughts at the bottom of our hearts are all the -more unpleasant, that we see therein only the expression--or the -masquerade--of profound weakening, exhaustion, age, and declining -power! What can it matter to us with what kind of tinsel an invalid -decks out his weakness? He may parade it as his _virtue;_ there is no -doubt whatever that weakness makes people gentle, alas, so gentle, so -just, so inoffensive, so "humane"!--The "religion of pity," to which -people would like to persuade us--yes, we know sufficiently well the -hysterical little men and women who need this religion at present as -a cloak and adornment! We are no humanitarians; we should not dare -to speak of our "love of mankind"; for that, a person of our stamp -is not enough of an actor! Or not sufficiently Saint-Simonist, not -sufficiently French. A person must have been affected with a _Gallic_ -excess of erotic susceptibility and amorous impatience even to -approach mankind honourably with his lewdness.... Mankind! Was there -ever a more hideous old woman among all old women (unless perhaps it -were "the Truth": a question for philosophers)? No, we do not love -Mankind! On the other hand, however, we are not nearly "German" enough -(in the sense in which the word "German" is current at present) to -advocate nationalism and race-hatred, or take delight in the national -heart-itch and blood-poisoning, on account of which the nations of -Europe are at present bounded off and secluded from one another as -if by quarantines. We are too unprejudiced for that, too perverse, -too fastidious; also too well-informed, and too much "travelled." We -prefer much rather to live on mountains, apart and "out of season," -in past or coming centuries, in order merely to spare ourselves the -silent rage to which we know we should be condemned as witnesses of a -system of politics which makes the German nation barren by making it -vain, and which is a _petty_ system besides:--will it not be necessary -for this system to plant itself between two mortal hatreds, lest its -own creation should immediately collapse? Will it not _be obliged_ -to desire the perpetuation of the petty-state system of Europe?... -We homeless ones are too diverse and mixed in race and descent for -"modern men," and are consequently little tempted to participate in the -falsified racial self-admiration and lewdness which at present display -themselves in Germany, as signs of German sentiment, and which strike -one as doubly false and unbecoming in the people with the "historical -sense." We are, in a word--and it shall be our word of honour!--_good -Europeans,_ the heirs of Europe, the rich, over-wealthy heirs, but too -deeply obligated heirs of millenniums of European thought. As such, -we have also outgrown Christianity, and are disinclined to it--and -just because we have grown _out of_ it, because our forefathers were -Christians uncompromising in their Christian integrity, who willingly -sacrificed possessions and positions, blood and country, for the sake -of their belief. We--do the same. For what, then? For our unbelief? -For all sorts of unbelief? Nay, you know better than that, my friends! -The hidden _Yea_ in you is stronger than all the Nays and Perhapses, -of which you and your age are sick; and when you are obliged to put -out to sea, you emigrants, it is--once more a _faith_ which urges you -thereto!... - - -378. - -_"And once more Grow Clear."_--We, the generous and rich in spirit, who -stand at the sides of the streets like open fountains and would hinder -no one from drinking from us: we do not know, alas! how to defend -ourselves when we should like to do so; we have no means of preventing -ourselves being made _turbid_ and dark,--we have no means of preventing -the age in which we live casting its "up-to-date rubbish" into us, or -of hindering filthy birds throwing their excrement, the boys their -trash, and fatigued resting travellers their misery, great and small, -into us. But we do as we have always done: we take whatever is cast -into us down into our depths--for we are deep, we do not forget--_and -once more grow clear_... - - -379. - -_The Fool's Interruption._--It is not a misanthrope who has written -this book: the hatred of men costs too dear to-day. To hate as they -formerly hated _man,_ in the fashion of Timon, completely, without -qualification, with all the heart, from the pure _love_ of hatred--for -that purpose one would have to renounce contempt:--and how much refined -pleasure, how much patience, how much benevolence even, do we owe to -contempt! Moreover we are thereby the "elect of God": refined contempt -is our taste and privilege, our art, our virtue perhaps, we, the -most modern amongst the moderns!... Hatred, on the contrary, makes -equal, it puts men face to face, in hatred there is honour; finally, -in hatred there is _fear,_ quite a large amount of fear. We fearless -ones, however, we, the most intellectual men of the period, know our -advantage well enough to live without fear as the most intellectual -persons of this age. People will not easily behead us, shut us up, or -banish us; they will not even ban or burn our books. The age loves -intellect, it loves us, and needs us, even when we have to give it -to understand that we are artists in despising; that all intercourse -with men is something of a horror to us; that with all our gentleness, -patience, humanity and courteousness, we cannot persuade our nose to -abandon its prejudice against the proximity of man; that we love nature -the more, the less humanly things are done by her, and that we love art -_when_ it is the flight of the artist from man, or the raillery of the -artist at man, or the raillery of the artist at himself.... - - -380. - -"_The Wanderer" Speaks._--In order for once to get a glimpse of our -European morality from a distance, in order to compare it with other -earlier or future moralities, one must do as the traveller who wants to -know the height of the towers of a city: for that purpose he _leaves_ -the city. "Thoughts concerning moral prejudices," if they are not to -be prejudices concerning prejudices, presuppose a position _outside -of_ morality, some sort of world beyond good and evil, to which one -must ascend, climb, or fly--and in the given case at any rate, a -position beyond _our_ good and evil, an emancipation from all "Europe," -understood as a sum of inviolable valuations which have become part and -parcel of our flesh and blood. That one does _want_ to get outside, or -aloft, is perhaps a sort of madness, a peculiar, unreasonable "thou -must"--for even we thinkers have our idiosyncrasies of "unfree will"--: -the question is whether one _can_ really get there. That may depend on -manifold conditions: in the main it is a question of how light or how -heavy we are, the problem of our "specific gravity." One must be _very -light_ in order to impel one's will to knowledge to such a distance, -and as it were beyond one's age, in order to create eyes for oneself -for the survey of millenniums, and a pure heaven in these eyes besides! -One must have freed oneself from many things by which we Europeans of -to-day are oppressed, hindered, held down, and made heavy. The man -of such a "Beyond," who wants to get even in sight of the highest -standards of worth of his age, must first of all "surmount" this age -in himself--it is the test of his power--and consequently not only -his age, but also his past aversion and opposition _to_ his age, his -suffering _caused by_ his age, his unseasonableness, his Romanticism.... - - -381. - -_The Question of Intelligibility._--One not only wants to be understood -when one writes, but also--quite as certainly--_not_ to be understood. -It is by no means an objection to a book when someone finds it -unintelligible: perhaps this might just have been the intention of -its author,--perhaps he did not _want_ to be understood by "anyone." -A distinguished intellect and taste, when it wants to communicate its -thoughts, always selects its hearers; by selecting them, it at the same -time closes its barriers against "the others." It is there that all the -more refined laws of style have their origin: they at the same time -keep off, they create distance, they prevent "access" (intelligibility, -as we have said,)--while they open the ears of those who are -acoustically related to them. And to say it between ourselves and with -reference to my own case,--I do not desire that either my ignorance, or -the vivacity of my temperament, should prevent me being understood by -_you,_ my friends: I certainly do not desire that my vivacity should -have that effect, however much it may impel me to arrive quickly at -an object, in order to arrive at it at all. For I think it is best to -do with profound problems as with a cold bath--quickly in, quickly -out. That one does not thereby get into the depths, that one does not -get deep enough _down_--is a superstition of the hydrophobic, the -enemies of cold water; they speak without experience. Oh! the great -cold makes one quick!--And let me ask by the way: Is it a fact that a -thing has been misunderstood and unrecognised when it has only been -touched upon in passing, glanced at, flashed at? Must one absolutely -sit upon it in the first place? Must one have brooded on it as on an -egg? _Diu noctuque incubando,_ as Newton said of himself? At least -there are truths of a peculiar shyness and ticklishness which one can -only get hold of suddenly, and in no other way,--which one must either -_take by surprise,_ or leave alone.... Finally, my brevity has still -another value: on those questions which pre-occupy me, I must say a -great deal briefly, in order that it may be heard yet more briefly. -For as immoralist, one has to take care lest one ruins innocence, I -mean the asses and old maids of both sexes, who get nothing from life -but their innocence; moreover my writings are meant to fill them with -enthusiasm, to elevate them, to encourage them in virtue. I should be -at a loss to know of anything more amusing than to see enthusiastic -old asses and maids moved by the sweet feelings of virtue: and "that -have I seen"--spake Zarathustra. So much with respect to brevity; the -matter stands worse as regards my ignorance, of which I make no secret -to myself. There are hours in which I am ashamed of it; to be sure -there are likewise hours in which I am ashamed of this shame. Perhaps -we philosophers, all of us, are badly placed at present with regard to -knowledge: science is growing, the most learned of us are on the point -of discovering that we know too little. But it would be worse still -if it were otherwise,--if we knew too much; our duty is and remains -first of all, not to get into confusion about ourselves. We _are_ -different from the learned; although it cannot be denied that amongst -other things we are also learned. We have different needs, a different -growth, a different digestion: we need more, we need also less. There -is no formula as to how much an intellect needs for its nourishment; -if, however, its taste be in the direction of independence, rapid -coming and going, travelling, and perhaps adventure for which only the -swiftest are qualified, it prefers rather to live free on poor fare, -than to be unfree and plethoric. Not fat, but the greatest suppleness -and power is what a good dancer wishes from his nourishment,--and I -know not what the spirit of a philosopher would like better than to be -a good dancer. For the dance is his ideal, and also his art, in the end -likewise his sole piety, his "divine service."... - - -382. - -_Great Healthiness._--We, the new, the nameless, the -hard-to-understand, we firstlings of a yet untried future--we require -for a new end also a new means, namely, a new healthiness, stronger, -sharper, tougher, bolder and merrier than any healthiness hitherto. He -whose soul longs to experience the whole range of hitherto recognised -values and desirabilities, and to circumnavigate all the coasts of -this ideal "Mediterranean Sea," who, from the adventures of his most -personal experience, wants to know how it feels to be a conqueror and -discoverer of the ideal--as likewise how it is with the artist, the -saint, the legislator, the sage, the scholar, the devotee, the prophet, -and the godly Nonconformist of the old style:--requires one thing above -all for that purpose, _great healthiness--_such healthiness as one not -only possesses, but also constantly acquires and must acquire, because -one continually sacrifices it again, and must sacrifice it!--And -now, after having been long on the way in this fashion, we Argonauts -of the ideal, who are more courageous perhaps than prudent, and often -enough shipwrecked and brought to grief, nevertheless, as said above, -healthier than people would like to admit, dangerously healthy, always -healthy again,--it would seem, as if in recompense for it all, that we -have a still undiscovered country before us, the boundaries of which no -one has yet seen, a beyond to all countries and corners of the ideal -known hitherto, a world so over-rich in the beautiful, the strange, the -questionable, the frightful, and the divine, that our curiosity as well -as our thirst for possession thereof, have got out of hand--alas! that -nothing will now any longer satisfy us! How could we still be content -with _the man of the present day_ after such peeps, and with such a -craving in our conscience and consciousness? What a pity; but it is -unavoidable that we should look on the worthiest aims and hopes of the -man of the present day with ill-concealed amusement, and perhaps should -no longer look at them. Another ideal runs on before us, a strange, -tempting ideal, full of danger, to which we should not like to persuade -any one, because we do not so readily acknowledge any one's _right -thereto:_ the ideal of a spirit who plays naïvely (that is to say -involuntarily and from overflowing abundance and power) with everything -that has hitherto been called holy, good, inviolable, divine; to whom -the loftiest conception which the people have reasonably made their -measure of value, would already imply danger, ruin, abasement, or at -least relaxation, blindness, or temporary self-forgetfulness; the -ideal of a humanly superhuman welfare and benevolence, which may often -enough appear _inhuman,_ for example, when put by the side of all past -seriousness on earth, and in comparison with all past solemnities -in bearing, word, tone, look, morality and pursuit, as their truest -involuntary parody,--but with which, nevertheless, perhaps _the great -seriousness_ only commences, the proper interrogation mark is set -up, the fate of the soul changes, the hour-hand moves, and tragedy -_begins_.... - - -383. - -_Epilogue._---But while I slowly, slowly finish the painting of this -sombre interrogation-mark, and am still inclined to remind my readers -of the virtues of right reading--oh, what forgotten and unknown -virtues--it comes to pass that the wickedest, merriest, gnome-like -laughter resounds around me: the spirits of my book themselves pounce -upon me, pull me by the ears, and call me to order. "We cannot endure -it any longer," they shout to me, "away, away with this raven-black -music. Is it not clear morning round about us? And green, soft ground -and turf, the domain of the dance? Was there ever a better hour in -which to be joyful? Who will sing us a song, a morning song, so sunny, -so light and so fledged that it will _not_ scare the tantrums,--but -will rather invite them to take part in the singing and dancing. -And better a simple rustic bagpipe than such weird sounds, such -toad-croakings, grave-voices and marmot-pipings, with which you have -hitherto regaled us in your wilderness, Mr Anchorite and Musician of -the Future! No! Not such tones! But let us strike up something more -agreeable and more joyful!"--You would like to have it so, my impatient -friends? Well! Who would not willingly accede to your wishes? My -bagpipe is waiting, and my voice also--it may sound a little hoarse; -take it as it is! don't forget we are in the mountains! But what you -will hear is at least new; and if you do not understand it, if you -misunderstand the _minstrel,_ what does it matter! That--has always -been "The Minstrel's Curse."[4] So much the more distinctly can you -hear his music and melody, so much the better also can you--dance to -his piping. _Would you like_ to do that?... - -[4] Title of the well-known poem of Uhland.--TR. - - - - -APPENDIX - - -SONGS OF PRINCE FREE-AS-A-BIRD - - - - TO GOETHE.[1] - - - "The Undecaying" - Is but thy label, - God the betraying - Is poets' fable. - - Our aims all are thwarted - By the World-wheel's blind roll: - "Doom," says the downhearted, - "Sport," says the fool. - - The World-sport, all-ruling, - Mingles false with true: - The Eternally Fooling - Makes us play, too! - - - - THE POET'S CALL. - - - As 'neath a shady tree I sat - After long toil to take my pleasure, - I heard a tapping "pit-a-pat" - Beat prettily in rhythmic measure. - Tho' first I scowled, my face set hard, - The sound at length my sense entrapping - Forced me to speak like any bard, - And keep true time unto the tapping. - - As I made verses, never stopping, - Each syllable the bird went after, - Keeping in time with dainty hopping! - I burst into unmeasured laughter! - What, you a poet? You a poet? - Can your brains truly so addled be? - "Yes, yes, good sir, you are a poet," - Chirped out the pecker, mocking me. - - What doth me to these woods entice? - The chance to give some thief a trouncing? - A saw, an image? Ha, in a trice - My rhyme is on it, swiftly pouncing! - All things that creep or crawl the poet - Weaves in his word-loom cunningly. - "Yes, yes, good sir, you are a poet," - Chirped out the pecker, mocking me. - - Like to an arrow, methinks, a verse is, - See how it quivers, pricks and smarts - When shot full straight (no tender mercies!) - Into the reptile's nobler parts! - - Wretches, you die at the hand of the poet, - Or stagger like men that have drunk too free. - "Yes, yes, good sir, you are a poet," - Chirped out the pecker, mocking me. - - So they go hurrying, stanzas malign, - Drunken words--what a clattering, banging!-- - Till the whole company, line on line, - All on the rhythmic chain are hanging. - Has he really a cruel heart, your poet? - Are there fiends who rejoice, the slaughter to see - "Yes, yes, good sir, you are a poet," - Chirped out the pecker, mocking me. - - So you jest at me, bird, with your scornful graces? - So sore indeed is the plight of my head? - And my heart, you say, in yet sorrier case is? - Beware! for my wrath is a thing to dread! - Yet e'en in the hour of his wrath the poet - Rhymes you and sings with the selfsame glee. - "Yes, yes, good sir, you are a poet," - Chirped out the pecker, mocking me. - - - - IN THE SOUTH.[2] - - - I swing on a bough, and rest - My tired limbs in a nest, - In the rocking home of a bird, - Wherein I perch as his guest, - In the South! - - I gaze on the ocean asleep, - On the purple sail of a boat; - On the harbour and tower steep, - On the rocks that stand out of the deep, - In the South! - - For I could no longer stay, - To crawl in slow German way; - So I called to the birds, bade the wind - Lift me up and bear me away - To the South! - - No reasons for me, if you please; - Their end is too dull and too plain; - But a pair of wings and a breeze, - With courage and health and ease, - And games that chase disease - From the South! - - Wise thoughts can move without sound,-But - I've songs that I can't sing alone; - So birdies, pray gather around, - And listen to what I have found - In the South! - . . . . . . . . . - "You are merry lovers and false and gay, - "In frolics and sport you pass the day; - "Whilst in the North, I shudder to say, - "I worshipped a woman, hideous and gray, - "Her name was Truth, so I heard them say, - "But I left her there and I flew away - "To the South!" - - - - BEPPA THE PIOUS. - - - While beauty in my face is, - Be piety my care, - For God, you know, loves lasses, - And, more than all, the fair. - And if yon hapless monkling - Is fain with me to live, - Like many another monkling, - God surely will forgive. - - No grey old priestly devil, - But, young, with cheeks aflame--Who - e'en when sick with revel, - Can jealous be and blame. - To greybeards I'm a stranger, - And he, too, hates the old: - Of God, the world-arranger, - The wisdom here behold! - - The Church has ken of living, - And tests by heart and face. - To me she'll be forgiving! - Who will not show me grace? - I lisp with pretty halting, - I curtsey, bid "good day," - And with the fresh defaulting - I wash the old away! - - Praise be this man-God's guerdon, - Who loves all maidens fair, - And his own heart can pardon - The sin he planted there. - - While beauty in my face is, - With piety I'll stand, - When age has killed my graces, - Let Satan claim my hand! - - - - THE BOAT OF MYSTERY. - - - Yester-eve, when all things slept-- - Scarce a breeze to stir the lane-- - I a restless vigil kept, - Nor from pillows sleep could gain, - Nor from poppies nor--most sure - Of opiates--a conscience pure. - - Thoughts of rest I 'gan forswear, - Rose and walked along the strand, - Found, in warm and moonlit air, - Man and boat upon the sand, - Drowsy both, and drowsily - Did the boat put out to sea. - - Passed an hour or two perchance, - Or a year? then thought and sense - Vanished in the engulfing trance - Of a vast Indifference. - Fathomless, abysses dread - Opened--then the vision fled. - - Morning came: becalmed, the boat - Rested on the purple flood: - "What had happened?" every throat - Shrieked the question: "was there-- - Blood?" - Naught had happened! On the swell - We had slumbered, oh, so well! - - - - AN AVOWAL OF LOVE - - (_during which, however, the poet fell into a pit_). - - - Oh marvel! there he flies - Cleaving the sky with wings unmoved--what force - Impels him, bids him rise, - What curb restrains him? Where's his goal, his course? - - Like stars and time eterne - He liveth now in heights that life forswore, - Nor envy's self doth spurn: - A lofty flight were't, e'en to see him soar! - - Oh albatross, great bird, - Speeding me upward ever through the blue! - I thought of her, was stirred - To tears unending--yea, I love her true! - - - - SONG OF A THEOCRITEAN GOATHERD. - - - Here I lie, my bowels sore, - Hosts of bugs advancing, - Yonder lights and romp and roar! - What's that sound? They're dancing! - - At this instant, so she prated, - Stealthily she'd meet me: - Like a faithful dog I've waited, - Not a sign to greet me! - - She promised, made the cross-sign, too, - Could her vows be hollow? - Or runs she after all that woo, - Like the goats I follow? - - Whence your silken gown, my maid? - Ah, you'd fain be haughty, - Yet perchance you've proved a jade - With some satyr naughty! - - Waiting long, the lovelorn wight - Is filled with rage and poison: - Even so on sultry night - Toadstools grow in foison. - - Pinching sore, in devil's mood, - Love doth plague my crupper: - Truly I can eat no food: - Farewell, onion-supper! - - Seaward sinks the moon away, - The stars are wan, and flare not: - Dawn approaches, gloomy, grey, - Let Death come! I care not! - - - - "SOULS THAT LACK DETERMINATION." - - - Souls that lack determination - Rouse my wrath to white-hot flame! - All their glory's but vexation, - All their praise but self-contempt and shame! - - Since I baffle their advances, - Will not clutch their leading-string, - They would wither me with glances - Bitter-sweet, with hopeless envy sting. - - Let them with fell curses shiver, - Curl their lip the livelong day! - Seek me as they will, forever - Helplessly their eyes shall go astray! - - - - THE FOOL'S DILEMMA. - - - Ah, what I wrote on board and wall - With foolish heart, in foolish scrawl, - I meant but for their decoration! - - Yet say you, "Fools' abomination! - Both board and wall require purgation, - And let no trace our eyes appal!" - - Well, I will help you, as I can, - For sponge and broom are my vocation - As critic and as waterman. - - But when the finished work I scan, - I'm glad to see each learned owl - With "wisdom" board and wall defoul. - - - - RIMUS REMEDIUM - - (_or a Consolation to Sick Poets_). - - - From thy moist lips, - O Time, thou witch, beslavering me, - Hour upon hour too slowly drips - In vain--I cry, in frenzy's fit, - "A curse upon that yawning pit, - A curse upon Eternity!" - - The world's of brass, - A fiery bullock, deaf to wail: - Pain's dagger pierces my cuirass, - Wingéd, and writes upon my bone: - "Bowels and heart the world hath none, - Why scourge her sins with anger's flail?" - - Pour poppies now, - Pour venom, Fever, on my brain! - Too long you test my hand and brow: - What ask you? "What--reward is paid?" - A malediction on you, jade, - And your disdain! - - No, I retract, - 'Tis cold--I hear the rain importune-- - Fever, I'll soften, show my tact: - Here's gold--a coin--see it gleam! - Shall I with blessings on you beam, - Call you "good fortune"? - - The door opes wide, - And raindrops on my bed are scattered, - The light's blown out--woes multiplied! - He that hath not an hundred rhymes, - I'll wager, in these dolorous times - We'd see him shattered! - - - - MY BLISS. - - - Once more, St Mark, thy pigeons meet my gaze, - The Square lies still, in slumbering morning mood: - In soft, cool air I fashion idle lays, - Speeding them skyward like a pigeon's brood: - And then recall my minions - To tie fresh rhymes upon their willing pinions. - My bliss! My bliss! - - Calm heavenly roof of azure silkiness, - Guarding with shimmering haze yon house divine! - Thee, house, I love, fear--envy, I'll confess, - And gladly would suck out that soul of thine! - "Should I give back the prize?" - Ask not, great pasture-ground for human eyes! - My bliss! My bliss! - - Stern belfry, rising as with lion's leap - Sheer from the soil in easy victory, - That fill'st the Square with peal resounding, deep - Wert thou in French that Square's "accent aigu"? - Were I for ages set - In earth like thee, I know what silk-meshed net---- - My bliss! My bliss! - - Hence, music! First let darker shadows come, - And grow, and merge into brown, mellow night! - Tis early for your pealing, ere the dome - Sparkle in roseate glory, gold-bedight - While yet 'tis day, there's time - For strolling, lonely muttering, forging rhyme-- - My bliss! My bliss! - - - - COLUMBUS REDIVIVUS. - - - Thither I'll travel, that's my notion, - I'll trust myself, my grip, - Where opens wide and blue the ocean - I'll ply my Genoa ship. - - New things on new the world unfolds me, - Time, space with noonday die: - Alone thy monstrous eye beholds me, - Awful Infinity! - - - - SILS-MARIA. - - - Here sat I waiting, waiting, but for naught! - Beyond all good and evil--now by light wrought - - To joy, now by dark shadows--all was leisure, - All lake, all noon, all time sans aim, sans measure. - - Then one, dear friend, was swiftly changed to twain, - And Zarathustra left my teeming brain.... - - - - A DANCING SONG TO THE MISTRAL WIND.[3] - - - Wildly rushing, clouds outleaping, - Care-destroying, Heaven sweeping, - Mistral wind, thou art my friend! - Surely 'twas one womb did bear us, - Surely 'twas one fate did pair us, - Fellows for a common end. - - From the crags I gaily greet you, - Running fast I come to meet you, - Dancing while you pipe and sing. - How you bound across the ocean, - Unimpeded, free in motion, - Swifter than with boat or wing! - - Through my dreams your whistle sounded, - Down the rocky stairs I bounded - To the golden ocean wall; - Saw you hasten, swift and glorious, - Like a river, strong, victorious, - Tumbling in a waterfall. - - Saw you rushing over Heaven, - With your steeds so wildly driven, - Saw the car in which you flew; - Saw the lash that wheeled and quivered, - While the hand that held it shivered, - Urging on the steeds anew. - - Saw you from your chariot swinging, - So that swifter downward springing - Like an arrow you might go - Straight into the deep abysses, - As a sunbeam falls and kisses - Roses in the morning glow. - - Dance, oh! dance on all the edges, - Wave-crests, cliffs and mountain ledges, - Ever finding dances new! - Let our knowledge be our gladness, - Let our art be sport and madness, - All that's joyful shall be true! - - Let us snatch from every bower, - As we pass, the fairest flower, - With some leaves to make a crown; - Then, like minstrels gaily dancing, - Saint and witch together prancing, - Let us foot it up and down. - - Those who come must move as; quickly - As the wind--we'll have no sickly, - Crippled, withered, in our crew.; - Off with hypocrites and preachers, - Proper folk and prosy teachers, - Sweep them from our heaven blue. - - Sweep away all sad grimaces, - Whirl the dust into the faces - Of the dismal sick and cold! - Hunt them from our breezy places, - Not for them the wind that braces, - But for men of visage bold. - - Off with those who spoil earth's gladness, - Blow away all clouds of sadness, - Till our heaven clear we see; - Let me hold thy hand, best fellow, - Till my joy like tempest bellow! - Freest thou of spirits free! - - When thou partest, take a token - Of the joy thou hast awoken, - Take our wreath and fling it far; - Toss it up and catch it never, - Whirl it on before thee ever, - Till it reach the farthest star. - - -[1] This poem is a parody of the "Chorus Mysticus" which concludes the -second part of Goethe's "Faust." Bayard Taylor's translation of the -passage in "Faust" runs as follows:-- - - "All things transitory - But as symbols are sent, - Earth's insufficiency - Here grows to Event: - The Indescribable - Here it is done: - The Woman-Soul leadeth us - Upward and on!" - -[2] Translated by Miss M. D. Petre. Inserted by permission of the -editor of the _Nation,_ in which it appeared on April 17, 1909. - -[3] Translated by Miss M. D. Petre. Inserted by permission of the -editor of the _Nation,_ in which it appeared on May 15, 1909. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Joyful Wisdom, by Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 52124 *** |