{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_52881/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_52881","id":"gutenberg_52881","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52881","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Philosophy"],"text":"------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n THE COMPLETE WORKS\n OF\n FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE\n\n _The First Complete and Authorised English Translation_\n\n EDITED BY\n DR OSCAR LEVY\n\n[Illustration]\n\n VOLUME TEN\n\n THE JOYFUL WISDOM\n\n (\"LA GAYA SCIENZA\")\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n Of the First Edition of\n One Thousand Five Hundred\n Copies this is\n No.\n\n\n\n\n _FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE_\n\n THE\n\n JOYFUL WISDOM\n\n (\"LA GAYA SCIENZA\")\n\n\n TRANSLATED BY\n\n THOMAS COMMON\n\n\n WITH POETRY RENDERED BY\n\n PAUL V. COHN\n\n AND\n\n MAUDE D. PETRE\n\n _I stay to mine house confined,\n Nor graft my wits on alien stock;\n And mock at every master mind\n That never at itself could mock._\n\n\n T. N. FOULIS\n\n 13 & 15 FREDERICK STREET\n\n EDINBURGH: & LONDON\n\n 1910\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n ALL RIGHTS RESERVED\n\n Printed at THE DARIEN PRESS, _Edinburgh_.\n\n\n\n\n CONTENTS\n\n\n PAGE\n\n EDITORIAL NOTE vii\n\n PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION 1\n\n JEST, RUSE AND REVENGE: A PRELUDE IN RHYME 11\n\n BOOK FIRST 29\n\n BOOK SECOND 93\n\n BOOK THIRD 149\n\n BOOK FOURTH: SANCTUS JANUARIUS 211\n\n BOOK FIFTH: WE FEARLESS ONES 273\n\n APPENDIX: SONGS OF PRINCE FREE-AS-A-BIRD 355\n\n\n\n\n EDITORIAL NOTE\n\n\n\"The Joyful Wisdom,\" written in 1882, just before \"Zarathustra,\" is\nrightly judged to be one of Nietzsche's best books. Here the essentially\ngrave and masculine face of the poet-philosopher is seen to light up and\nsuddenly break into a delightful smile. The warmth and kindness that\nbeam from his features will astonish those hasty psychologists who have\nnever divined that behind the destroyer is the creator, and behind the\nblasphemer the lover of life. In the retrospective valuation of his work\nwhich appears in \"Ecce Homo\" the author himself observes with truth that\nthe fourth book, \"Sanctus Januarius,\" deserves especial attention: \"The\nwhole book is a gift from the Saint, and the introductory verses express\nmy gratitude for the most wonderful month of January that I have ever\nspent.\" Book fifth \"We Fearless Ones,\" the Appendix \"Songs of Prince\nFree-as-a-Bird,\" and the Preface, were added to the second edition in\n1887.\n\nThe translation of Nietzsche's poetry has proved to be a more\nembarrassing problem than that of his prose. Not only has there been a\ndifficulty in finding adequate translators\u2014a difficulty overcome, it is\nhoped, by the choice of Miss Petre and Mr Cohn,\u2014but it cannot be denied\nthat even in the original the poems are of unequal merit. By the side of\nsuch masterpieces as \"To the Mistral\" are several verses of\ncomparatively little value. The Editor, however, did not feel justified\nin making a selection, as it was intended that the edition should be\ncomplete. The heading, \"Jest, Ruse and Revenge,\" of the \"Prelude in\nRhyme\" is borrowed from Goethe.\n\n\n\n\n PREFACE TO THE SECOND\n EDITION.\n\n\n 1.\n\nPerhaps more than one preface would be necessary for this book; and\nafter all it might still be doubtful whether any one could be brought\nnearer to the _experiences_ in it by means of prefaces, without having\nhimself experienced something similar. It seems to be written in the\nlanguage of the thawing-wind: there is wantonness, restlessness,\ncontradiction and April-weather in it; so that one is as constantly\nreminded of the proximity of winter as of the _victory_ over it: the\nvictory which is coming, which must come, which has perhaps already\ncome.... Gratitude continually flows forth, as if the most unexpected\nthing had happened, the gratitude of a convalescent\u2014for _convalescence_\nwas this most unexpected thing. \"Joyful Wisdom\": that implies the\nSaturnalia of a spirit which has patiently withstood a long, frightful\npressure\u2014patiently, strenuously, impassionately, without submitting, but\nwithout hope\u2014and which is now suddenly o'erpowered with hope, the hope\nof health, the _intoxication_ of convalescence. What wonder that much\nthat is unreasonable and foolish thereby comes to light: much wanton\ntenderness expended even on problems which have a prickly hide, and are\nnot therefore fit to be fondled and allured. The whole book is really\nnothing but a revel after long privation and impotence: the frolicking\nof returning energy, of newly awakened belief in a to-morrow and\nafter-to-morrow; of sudden sentience and prescience of a future, of near\nadventures, of seas open once more, and aims once more permitted and\nbelieved in. And what was now all behind me! This track of desert,\nexhaustion, unbelief, and frigidity in the midst of youth, this advent\nof grey hairs at the wrong time, this tyranny of pain, surpassed,\nhowever, by the tyranny of pride which repudiated the _consequences_ of\npain\u2014and consequences are comforts,\u2014this radical isolation, as defence\nagainst the contempt of mankind become morbidly clairvoyant, this\nrestriction upon principle to all that is bitter, sharp, and painful in\nknowledge, as prescribed by the _disgust_ which had gradually resulted\nfrom imprudent spiritual diet and pampering\u2014it is called\nRomanticism,\u2014oh, who could realise all those feelings of mine! He,\nhowever, who could do so would certainly forgive me everything, and more\nthan a little folly, boisterousness and \"Joyful Wisdom\"\u2014for example, the\nhandful of songs which are given along with the book on this\noccasion,\u2014songs in which a poet makes merry over all poets in a way not\neasily pardoned.\u2014Alas, it is not only on the poets and their fine\n\"lyrical sentiments\" that this reconvalescent must vent his malignity:\nwho knows what kind of victim he seeks, what kind of monster of material\nfor parody will allure him ere long? _Incipit trag\u0153dia_, it is said at\nthe conclusion of this seriously frivolous book; let people be on their\nguard! Something or other extraordinarily bad and wicked announces\nitself: _incipit parodia_, there is no doubt...\n\n\n 2.\n\n\u2014\u2014But let us leave Herr Nietzsche; what does it matter to people that\nHerr Nietzsche has got well again?... A psychologist knows few questions\nso attractive as those concerning the relations of health to philosophy,\nand in the case when he himself falls sick, he carries with him all his\nscientific curiosity into his sickness. For, granting that one is a\nperson, one has necessarily also the philosophy of one's personality,\nthere is, however, an important distinction here. With the one it is his\ndefects which philosophise, with the other it is his riches and powers.\nThe former _requires_ his philosophy, whether it be as support,\nsedative, or medicine, as salvation, elevation, or self-alienation; with\nthe latter it is merely a fine luxury, at best the voluptuousness of a\ntriumphant gratitude, which must inscribe itself ultimately in cosmic\ncapitals on the heaven of ideas. In the other more usual case, however,\nwhen states of distress occupy themselves with philosophy (as is the\ncase with all sickly thinkers\u2014and perhaps the sickly thinkers\npreponderate in the history of philosophy), what will happen to the\nthought itself which is brought under the _pressure_ of sickness? This\nis the important question for psychologists: and here experiment is\npossible. We philosophers do just like a traveller who resolves to awake\nat a given hour, and then quietly yields himself to sleep: we surrender\nourselves temporarily, body and soul, to the sickness, supposing we\nbecome ill\u2014we shut, as it were, our eyes on ourselves. And as the\ntraveller knows that something _does not_ sleep, that something counts\nthe hours and will awake him, we also know that the critical moment will\nfind us awake\u2014that then something will spring forward and surprise the\nspirit _in the very act_, I mean in weakness, or reversion, or\nsubmission, or obduracy, or obscurity, or whatever the morbid conditions\nare called, which in times of good health have the _pride_ of the spirit\nopposed to them (for it is as in the old rhyme: \"The spirit proud,\npeacock and horse are the three proudest things of earthly source\").\nAfter such self-questioning and self-testing, one learns to look with a\nsharper eye at all that has hitherto been philosophised; one divines\nbetter than before the arbitrary by-ways, side-streets, resting-places,\nand _sunny_ places of thought, to which suffering thinkers, precisely as\nsufferers, are led and misled: one knows now in what direction the\nsickly _body_ and its requirements unconsciously press, push, and allure\nthe spirit\u2014towards the sun, stillness, gentleness, patience, medicine,\nrefreshment in any sense whatever. Every philosophy which puts peace\nhigher than war, every ethic with a negative grasp of the idea of\nhappiness, every metaphysic and physic that knows a _finale_, an\nultimate condition of any kind whatever, every predominating, \u00e6sthetic\nor religious longing for an aside, a beyond, an outside, an above\u2014all\nthese permit one to ask whether sickness has not been the motive which\ninspired the philosopher. The unconscious disguising of physiological\nrequirements under the cloak of the objective, the ideal, the purely\nspiritual, is carried on to an alarming extent,\u2014and I have often enough\nasked myself, whether, on the whole, philosophy hitherto has not\ngenerally been merely an interpretation of the body, and a\n_misunderstanding of the body_. Behind the loftiest estimates of value\nby which the history of thought has hitherto been governed,\nmisunderstandings of the bodily constitution, either of individuals,\nclasses, or entire races are concealed. One may always primarily\nconsider these audacious freaks of metaphysic, and especially its\nanswers to the question of the _worth_ of existence, as symptoms of\ncertain bodily constitutions; and if, on the whole, when scientifically\ndetermined, not a particle of significance attaches to such affirmations\nand denials of the world, they nevertheless furnish the historian and\npsychologist with hints so much the more valuable (as we have said) as\nsymptoms of the bodily constitution, its good or bad condition, its\nfullness, powerfulness, and sovereignty in history; or else of its\nobstructions, exhaustions, and impoverishments, its premonition of the\nend, its will to the end. I still expect that a philosophical\n_physician_, in the exceptional sense of the word\u2014one who applies\nhimself to the problem of the collective health of peoples, periods,\nraces, and mankind generally\u2014will some day have the courage to follow\nout my suspicion to its ultimate conclusions, and to venture on the\njudgment that in all philosophising it has not hitherto been a question\nof \"truth\" at all, but of something else,\u2014namely, of health, futurity,\ngrowth, power, life....\n\n\n 3.\n\nIt will be surmised that I should not like to take leave ungratefully of\nthat period of severe sickness, the advantage of which is not even yet\nexhausted in me: for I am sufficiently conscious of what I have in\nadvance of the spiritually robust generally, in my changeful state of\nhealth. A philosopher who has made the tour of many states of health,\nand always makes it anew, has also gone through just as many\nphilosophies: he really _cannot_ do otherwise than transform his\ncondition on every occasion into the most ingenious posture and\nposition,\u2014this art of transfiguration _is_ just philosophy. We\nphilosophers are not at liberty to separate soul and body, as the people\nseparate them; and we are still less at liberty to separate soul and\nspirit. We are not thinking frogs, we are not objectifying and\nregistering apparatuses with cold entrails,\u2014our thoughts must be\ncontinually born to us out of our pain, and we must, motherlike, share\nwith them all that we have in us of blood, heart, ardour, joy, passion,\npang, conscience, fate and fatality. Life\u2014that means for us to transform\nconstantly into light and flame all that we are, and also all that we\nmeet with; we _cannot_ possibly do otherwise. And as regards sickness,\nshould we not be almost tempted to ask whether we could in general\ndispense with it? It is great pain only which is the ultimate\nemancipator of the spirit; for it is the teacher of the _strong\nsuspicion_ which makes an X out of every U[1], a true, correct X,\n_i.e._, the ante-penultimate letter.... It is great pain only, the long\nslow pain which takes time, by which we are burned as it were with green\nwood, that compels us philosophers to descend into our ultimate depths,\nand divest ourselves of all trust, all good-nature, veiling, gentleness,\nand averageness, wherein we have perhaps formerly installed our\nhumanity. I doubt whether such pain \"improves\" us; but I know that it\n_deepens_ us. Be it that we learn to confront it with our pride, our\nscorn, our strength of will, doing like the Indian who, however sorely\ntortured, revenges himself on his tormentor with his bitter tongue; be\nit that we withdraw from the pain into the oriental nothingness\u2014it is\ncalled Nirvana,\u2014into mute, benumbed, deaf self-surrender,\nself-forgetfulness, and self-effacement: one emerges from such long,\ndangerous exercises in self-mastery as another being, with several\nadditional notes of interrogation, and above all, with the _will_ to\nquestion more than ever, more profoundly, more strictly, more sternly,\nmore wickedly, more quietly than has ever been questioned hitherto.\nConfidence in life is gone: life itself has become a _problem_.\u2014Let it\nnot be imagined that one has necessarily become a hypochondriac thereby!\nEven love of life is still possible\u2014only one loves differently. It is\nthe love of a woman of whom one is doubtful.... The charm, however, of\nall that is problematic, the delight in the X, is too great in those\nmore spiritual and more spiritualised men, not to spread itself again\nand again like a clear glow over all the trouble of the problematic,\nover all the danger of uncertainty, and even over the jealousy of the\nlover. We know a new happiness....\n\n\n 4.\n\nFinally, (that the most essential may not remain unsaid), one comes back\nout of such abysses, out of such severe sickness, and out of the\nsickness of strong suspicion\u2014_new-born_, with the skin cast; more\nsensitive, more wicked, with a finer taste for joy, with a more delicate\ntongue for all good things, with a merrier disposition, with a second\nand more dangerous innocence in joy; more childish at the same time, and\na hundred times more refined than ever before. Oh, how repugnant to us\nnow is pleasure, coarse, dull, drab pleasure, as the pleasure-seekers,\nour \"cultured\" classes, our rich and ruling classes, usually understand\nit! How malignantly we now listen to the great holiday-hubbub with which\n\"cultured people\" and city-men at present allow themselves to be forced\nto \"spiritual enjoyment\" by art, books, and music, with the help of\nspirituous liquors! How the theatrical cry of passion now pains our ear,\nhow strange to our taste has all the romantic riot and sensuous bustle\nwhich the cultured populace love become (together with their aspirations\nafter the exalted, the elevated, and the intricate)! No, if we\nconvalescents need an art at all, it is _another_ art\u2014a mocking, light,\nvolatile, divinely serene, divinely ingenious art, which blazes up like\na clear flame, into a cloudless heaven! Above all, an art for artists,\nonly for artists! We at last know better what is first of all necessary\n_for it_\u2014namely, cheerfulness, _every_ kind of cheerfulness, my friends!\nalso as artists:\u2014I should like to prove it. We now know something too\nwell, we men of knowledge: oh, how well we are now learning to forget\nand _not_ know, as artists! And as to our future, we are not likely to\nbe found again in the tracks of those Egyptian youths who at night make\nthe temples unsafe, embrace statues, and would fain unveil, uncover, and\nput in clear light, everything which for good reasons is kept\nconcealed.[2] No, we have got disgusted with this bad taste, this will\nto truth, to \"truth at all costs,\" this youthful madness in the love of\ntruth: we are now too experienced, too serious, too joyful, too singed,\ntoo profound for that.... We no longer believe that truth remains truth\nwhen the veil is withdrawn from it: we have lived long enough to believe\nthis. At present we regard it as a matter of propriety not to be anxious\neither to see everything naked, or to be present at everything, or to\nunderstand and \"know\" everything. \"Is it true that the good God is\neverywhere present?\" asked a little girl of her mother: \"I think that is\nindecent\":\u2014a hint to philosophers! One should have more reverence for\nthe _shamefacedness_ with which nature has concealed herself behind\nenigmas and motley uncertainties. Perhaps truth is a woman who has\nreasons for not showing her reasons? Perhaps her name is Baubo, to speak\nin Greek?... Oh, those Greeks! They knew how _to live_: for that purpose\nit is necessary to keep bravely to the surface, the fold and the skin;\nto worship appearance, to believe in forms, tones, and words, in the\nwhole Olympus of appearance! Those Greeks were superficial\u2014_from\nprofundity_! And are we not coming back precisely to this point, we\ndare-devils of the spirit, who have scaled the highest and most\ndangerous peak of contemporary thought, and have looked around us from\nit, have _looked down_ from it? Are we not precisely in this\nrespect\u2014Greeks? Worshippers of forms, of tones, and of words? And\nprecisely on that account\u2014artists?\n\nRUTA, near GENOA\n\n_Autumn, 1886._\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 1:\n\n This means literally to put the numeral X instead of the numeral V\n (formerly U); hence it means to double a number unfairly, to\n exaggerate, humbug, cheat.\u2014TR.\n\nFootnote 2:\n\n An allusion to Schiller's poem: \"The Veiled Image of Sais.\"\u2014TR.\n\n\n\n\n JEST, RUSE AND REVENGE.\n\n A PRELUDE IN RHYME.\n\n\n 1.\n\n _Invitation._\n\n Venture, comrades, I implore you,\n On the fare I set before you,\n You will like it more to-morrow,\n Better still the following day:\n If yet more you're then requiring,\n Old success I'll find inspiring,\n And fresh courage thence will borrow\n Novel dainties to display.\n\n\n 2.\n\n _My Good Luck._\n\n Weary of Seeking had I grown,\n So taught myself the way to Find:\n Back by the storm I once was blown,\n But follow now, where drives the wind.\n\n\n 3.\n\n _Undismayed._\n\n Where you're standing, dig, dig out:\n Down below's the Well:\n Let them that walk in darkness shout:\n \"Down below\u2014there's Hell!\"\n\n\n 4.\n\n _Dialogue._\n\n _A._ Was I ill? and is it ended?\n Pray, by what physician tended?\n I recall no pain endured!\n _B._ Now I know your trouble's ended:\n He that can forget, is cured.\n\n\n 5.\n\n _To the Virtuous._\n\n Let our virtues be easy and nimble-footed in motion,\n Like unto Homer's verse ought they to come _and to go_.\n\n\n 6.\n\n _Worldly Wisdom._\n\n Stay not on level plain,\n Climb not the mount too high,\n But half-way up remain\u2014\n The world you'll best descry!\n\n\n 7.\n\n _Vademecum\u2014Vadetecum._\n\n Attracted by my style and talk\n You'd follow, in my footsteps walk?\n Follow yourself unswervingly,\n So\u2014careful!\u2014shall you follow me.\n\n\n 8.\n\n _The Third Sloughing._\n\n My skin bursts, breaks for fresh rebirth,\n And new desires come thronging:\n Much I've devoured, yet for more earth\n The serpent in me's longing.\n 'Twixt stone and grass I crawl once more,\n Hungry, by crooked ways,\n To eat the food I ate before,\n Earth-fare all serpents praise!\n\n\n 9.\n\n _My Roses._\n\n My luck's good\u2014I'd make yours fairer,\n (Good luck ever needs a sharer),\n Will you stop and pluck my roses?\n\n Oft mid rocks and thorns you'll linger,\n Hide and stoop, suck bleeding finger\u2014\n Will you stop and pluck my roses?\n\n For my good luck's a trifle vicious,\n Fond of teasing, tricks malicious\u2014\n Will you stop and pluck my roses?\n\n\n 10.\n\n _The Scorner._\n\n Many drops I waste and spill,\n So my scornful mood you curse:\n Who to brim his cup doth fill,\n Many drops _must_ waste and spill\u2014\n Yet he thinks the wine no worse.\n\n\n 11.\n\n _The Proverb Speaks._\n\n Harsh and gentle, fine and mean,\n Quite rare and common, dirty and clean,\n The fools' and the sages' go-between:\n All this I will be, this have been,\n Dove and serpent and swine, I ween!\n\n\n 12.\n\n _To a Lover of Light._\n\n That eye and sense be not fordone\n E'en in the shade pursue the sun!\n\n\n 13.\n\n _For Dancers._\n\n Smoothest ice,\n A paradise\n To him who is a dancer nice.\n\n\n 14.\n\n _The Brave Man._\n\n A feud that knows not flaw nor break,\n Rather then patched-up friendship, take.\n\n\n 15.\n\n _Rust._\n\n Rust's needed: keenness will not satisfy!\n \"He is too young!\" the rabble loves to cry.\n\n\n 16.\n\n _Excelsior._\n\n \"How shall I reach the top?\" No time\n For thus reflecting! Start to climb!\n\n\n 17.\n\n _The Man of Power Speaks._\n\n Ask never! Cease that whining, pray!\n Take without asking, take alway!\n\n\n 18.\n\n _Narrow Souls._\n\n Narrow souls hate I like the devil,\n Souls wherein grows nor good nor evil.\n\n\n 19.\n\n _Accidentally a Seducer._[3]\n\n He shot an empty word\n Into the empty blue;\n But on the way it met\n A woman whom it slew.\n\n\n 20.\n\n _For Consideration._\n\n A twofold pain is easier far to bear\n Than one: so now to suffer wilt thou dare?\n\n\n 21.\n\n _Against Pride._\n\n Brother, to puff thyself up ne'er be quick:\n For burst thou shalt be by a tiny prick!\n\n\n 22.\n\n _Man and Woman._\n\n \"The woman seize, who to thy heart appeals!\"\n Man's motto: woman seizes not, but steals.\n\n\n 23.\n\n _Interpretation._\n\n If I explain my wisdom, surely\n 'Tis but entangled more securely,\n I can't expound myself aright:\n But he that's boldly up and doing,\n His own unaided course pursuing,\n Upon my image casts more light!\n\n\n 24.\n\n _A Cure for Pessimism._\n\n Those old capricious fancies, friend!\n You say your palate naught can please,\n I hear you bluster, spit and wheeze,\n My love, my patience soon will end!\n Pluck up your courage, follow me\u2014\n Here's a fat toad! Now then, don't blink,\n Swallow it whole, nor pause to think!\n From your dyspepsia you'll be free!\n\n\n 25.\n\n _A Request._\n\n Many men's minds I know full well,\n Yet what mine own is, cannot tell.\n I cannot see\u2014my eye's too near\u2014\n And falsely to myself appear.\n 'Twould be to me a benefit\n Far from myself if I could sit,\n Less distant than my enemy,\n And yet my nearest friend's too nigh\u2014\n 'Twixt him and me, just in the middle!\n What do I ask for? Guess my riddle!\n\n\n 26.\n\n _My Cruelty._\n\n I must ascend an hundred stairs,\n I must ascend: the herd declares\n I'm cruel: \"Are we made of stone?\"\n I must ascend an hundred stairs:\n All men the part of stair disown.\n\n\n 27.\n\n _The Wanderer._\n\n \"No longer path! Abyss and silence chilling!\"\n Thy fault! To leave the path thou wast too willing!\n Now comes the test! Keep cool\u2014eyes bright and clear!\n Thou'rt lost for sure, if thou permittest\u2014fear.\n\n\n 28.\n\n _Encouragement for Beginners._\n\n See the infant, helpless creeping\u2014\n Swine around it grunt swine-talk\u2014\n Weeping always, naught but weeping,\n Will it ever learn to walk?\n Never fear! Just wait, I swear it\n Soon to dance will be inclined,\n And this babe, when two legs bear it,\n Standing on its head you'll find.\n\n\n 29.\n\n _Planet Egoism._\n\n Did I not turn, a rolling cask,\n Ever about myself, I ask,\n How could I without burning run\n Close on the track of the hot sun?\n\n\n 30.\n\n _The Neighbour._\n\n Too nigh, my friend my joy doth mar,\n I'd have him high above and far,\n Or how can he become my star?\n\n\n 31.\n\n _The Disguised Saint._\n\n Lest we for thy bliss should slay thee,\n In devil's wiles thou dost array thee,\n Devil's wit and devil's dress.\n But in vain! Thy looks betray thee\n And proclaim thy holiness.\n\n\n 32.\n\n _The Slave._\n\n _A._ He stands and listens: whence his pain?\n What smote his ears? Some far refrain?\n Why is his heart with anguish torn?\n _B._ Like all that fetters once have worn,\n He always hears the clinking\u2014chain!\n\n\n 33.\n\n _The Lone One._\n\n I hate to follow and I hate to lead.\n Obedience? no! and ruling? no, indeed!\n Wouldst fearful be in others' sight?\n Then e'en _thyself_ thou must affright:\n The people but the Terror's guidance heed.\n I hate to guide myself, I hate the fray.\n Like the wild beasts I'll wander far afield.\n In Error's pleasing toils I'll roam\n Awhile, then lure myself back home,\n Back home, and\u2014to my self-seduction yield.\n\n\n 34.\n\n _Seneca et hoc Genus omne._\n\n They write and write (quite maddening me)\n Their \"sapient\" twaddle airy,\n As if 'twere _primum scribere,\n Deinde philosophari_.\n\n\n 35.\n\n _Ice._\n\n Yes! I manufacture ice:\n Ice may help you to digest:\n If you _had_ much to digest,\n How you would enjoy my ice!\n\n\n 36.\n\n _Youthful Writings._\n\n My wisdom's A and final O\n Was then the sound that smote mine ear.\n Yet now it rings no longer so,\n My youth's eternal Ah! and Oh!\n Is now the only sound I hear.[4]\n\n\n 37.\n\n _Foresight._\n\n In yonder region travelling, take good care!\n An hast thou wit, then be thou doubly ware!\n They'll smile and lure thee; then thy limbs they'll tear:\n Fanatics' country this where wits are rare!\n\n\n 38.\n\n _The Pious One Speaks._\n\n God loves us, _for_ he made us, sent us here!\u2014\n \"Man hath made God!\" ye subtle ones reply.\n His handiwork he must hold dear,\n And _what he made_ shall he deny?\n There sounds the devil's halting hoof, I fear.\n\n\n 39.\n\n _In Summer._\n\n In sweat of face, so runs the screed,\n We e'er must eat our bread,\n Yet wise physicians if we heed\n \"Eat naught in sweat,\" 'tis said.\n The dog-star's blinking: what's his need?\n What tells his blazing sign?\n In sweat of face (so runs _his_ screed)\n We're meant to drink our wine!\n\n\n 40.\n\n _Without Envy._\n\n His look bewrays no envy: and ye laud him?\n He cares not, asks not if your throng applaud him!\n He has the eagle's eye for distance far,\n He sees you not, he sees but star on star!\n\n\n 41.\n\n _Heraclitism._\n\n Brethren, war's the origin\n Of happiness on earth:\n Powder-smoke and battle-din\n Witness friendship's birth!\n Friendship means three things, you know,\u2014\n Kinship in luckless plight,\n Equality before the foe\n Freedom\u2014in death's sight!\n\n\n 42.\n\n _Maxim of the Over-refined._\n\n \"Rather on your toes stand high\n Than crawl upon all fours,\n Rather through the keyhole spy\n Than through open doors!\"\n\n\n 43.\n\n _Exhortation._\n\n Renown you're quite resolved to earn?\n My thought about it\n Is this: you need not fame, must learn\n To do without it!\n\n\n 44.\n\n _Thorough._\n\n I an Inquirer? No, that's not my calling\n Only _I weigh a lot_\u2014I'm such a lump!\u2014\n And through the waters I keep falling, falling,\n Till on the ocean's deepest bed I bump.\n\n\n 45.\n\n _The Immortals._\n\n \"To-day is meet for me, I come to-day,\"\n Such is the speech of men foredoomed to stay.\n \"Thou art too soon,\" they cry, \"thou art too late,\"\n What care the Immortals what the rabble say?\n\n\n 46.\n\n _Verdicts of the Weary._\n\n The weary shun the glaring sun, afraid,\n And only care for trees to gain the shade.\n\n\n 47.\n\n _Descent._\n\n \"He sinks, he falls,\" your scornful looks portend:\n The truth is, to your level he'll descend.\n His Too Much Joy is turned to weariness,\n His Too Much Light will in your darkness end.\n\n\n 48.\n\n _Nature Silenced._[5]\n\n Around my neck, on chain of hair,\n The timepiece hangs\u2014a sign of care.\n For me the starry course is o'er,\n No sun and shadow as before,\n No cockcrow summons at the door,\n For nature tells the time no more!\n Too many clocks her voice have drowned,\n And droning law has dulled her sound.\n\n\n 49.\n\n _The Sage Speaks._\n\n Strange to the crowd, yet useful to the crowd,\n I still pursue my path, now sun, now cloud,\n But always pass above the crowd!\n\n\n 50.\n\n _He lost his Head...._\n\n She now has wit\u2014how did it come her way?\n A man through her his reason lost, they say.\n His head, though wise ere to this pastime lent,\n Straight to the devil\u2014no, to woman went!\n\n\n 51.\n\n _A Pious Wish._\n\n \"Oh, might all keys be lost! 'Twere better so\n And in all keyholes might the pick-lock go!\"\n Who thus reflects ye may as\u2014picklock know.\n\n\n 52.\n\n _Foot Writing._\n\n I write not with the hand alone,\n My foot would write, my foot that capers,\n Firm, free and bold, it's marching on\n Now through the fields, now through the papers.\n\n\n 53.\n\n \"_Human, All-too-Human._\"...\n\n Shy, gloomy, when your looks are backward thrust,\n Trusting the future where yourself you trust,\n Are you an eagle, mid the nobler fowl,\n Or are you like Minerva's darling owl?\n\n\n 54.\n\n _To my Reader._\n\n Good teeth and a digestion good\n I wish you\u2014these you need, be sure!\n And, certes, if my book you've stood,\n Me with good humour you'll endure.\n\n\n 55.\n\n _The Realistic Painter._\n\n \"To nature true, complete!\" so he begins.\n Who complete Nature to his canvas _wins_?\n Her tiniest fragment's endless, no constraint\n Can know: he paints just what his _fancy_ pins:\n What does his fancy pin? What he _can_ paint!\n\n\n 56.\n\n _Poets' Vanity._\n\n Glue, only glue to me dispense,\n The wood I'll find myself, don't fear!\n To give four senseless verses sense\u2014\n That's an achievement I revere!\n\n\n 57.\n\n _Taste in Choosing._\n\n If to choose my niche precise\n Freedom I could win from fate,\n I'd be in midst of Paradise\u2014\n Or, sooner still\u2014before the gate!\n\n\n 58.\n\n _The Crooked Nose._\n\n Wide blow your nostrils, and across\n The land your nose holds haughty sway:\n So you, unhorned rhinoceros,\n Proud mannikin, fall forward aye!\n The one trait with the other goes:\n A straight pride and a crooked nose.\n\n\n 59.\n\n _The Pen is Scratching...._\n\n The pen is scratching: hang the pen!\n To scratching I'm condemned to sink!\n I grasp the inkstand fiercely then\n And write in floods of flowing ink.\n How broad, how full the stream's career!\n What luck my labours doth requite!\n 'Tis true, the writing's none too clear\u2014\n What then? Who reads the stuff I write?\n\n\n 60.\n\n _Loftier Spirits._\n\n This man's climbing up\u2014let us praise him\u2014\n But that other we love\n From aloft doth eternally move,\n So above even praise let us raise him,\n He _comes_ from above!\n\n\n 61.\n\n _The Sceptic Speaks._\n\n Your life is half-way o'er;\n The clock-hand moves; your soul is thrilled with fear,\n It roamed to distant shore\n And sought and found not, yet you\u2014linger here!\n\n Your life is half-way o'er;\n That hour by hour was pain and error sheer:\n _Why stay?_ What seek you more?\n \"That's what I'm seeking\u2014reasons why I'm here!\"\n\n\n 62.\n\n _Ecce Homo._\n\n Yes, I know where I'm related,\n Like the flame, unquenched, unsated,\n I consume myself and glow:\n All's turned to light I lay my hand on,\n All to coal that I abandon,\n Yes, I am a flame, I know!\n\n\n 63.\n\n _Star Morality._[6]\n\n Foredoomed to spaces vast and far,\n What matters darkness to the star?\n\n Roll calmly on, let time go by,\n Let sorrows pass thee\u2014nations die!\n\n Compassion would but dim the light\n That distant worlds will gladly sight.\n\n To thee one law\u2014be pure and bright!\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 3:\n\n Translated by Miss M. D. Petre.\n\nFootnote 4:\n\n A and O, suggestive of Ah! and Oh! refer of course to Alpha and Omega,\n the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet.\u2014TR.\n\nFootnote 5:\n\n Translated by Miss M. D. Petre.\n\nFootnote 6:\n\n Translated by Miss M. D. Petre.\n\n\n\n\n BOOK FIRST\n\n\n 1.\n\n_The Teachers of the Object of Existence._\u2014Whether I look with a good or\nan evil eye upon men, I find them always at one problem, each and all of\nthem: to do that which conduces to the conservation of the human\nspecies. And certainly not out of any sentiment of love for this\nspecies, but simply because nothing in them is older, stronger, more\ninexorable, and more unconquerable than that instinct,\u2014because it is\nprecisely _the essence_ of our race and herd. Although we are accustomed\nreadily enough, with our usual short-sightedness, to separate our\nneighbours precisely into useful and hurtful, into good and evil men,\nyet when we make a general calculation, and on longer reflection on the\nwhole question, we become distrustful of this defining and separating,\nand finally leave it alone. Even the most hurtful man is still perhaps,\nin respect to the conservation of the race, the most useful of all; for\nhe conserves in himself or by his effect on others, impulses without\nwhich mankind might long ago have languished or decayed. Hatred, delight\nin mischief, rapacity and ambition, and whatever else is called\nevil\u2014belong to the marvellous economy of the conservation of the race;\nto be sure a costly, lavish, and on the whole very foolish\neconomy:\u2014which has, however, hitherto preserved our race, _as is\ndemonstrated to us_. I no longer know, my dear fellow-man and neighbour,\nif thou _canst_ at all live to the disadvantage of the race, and\ntherefore, \"unreasonably\" and \"badly\"; that which could have injured the\nrace has perhaps died out many millenniums ago, and now belongs to the\nthings which are no longer possible even to God. Indulge thy best or thy\nworst desires, and above all, go to wreck!\u2014in either case thou art still\nprobably the furtherer and benefactor of mankind in some way or other,\nand in that respect thou mayest have thy panegyrists\u2014and similarly thy\nmockers! But thou wilt never find him who would be quite qualified to\nmock at thee, the individual, at thy best, who could bring home to thy\nconscience its limitless, buzzing and croaking wretchedness so as to be\nin accord with truth! To laugh at oneself as one would have to laugh in\norder to laugh _out of the veriest truth_,\u2014to do this the best have not\nhitherto had enough of the sense of truth, and the most endowed have had\nfar too little genius! There is perhaps still a future even for\nlaughter! When the maxim, \"The race is all, the individual is\nnothing,\"\u2014has incorporated itself in humanity, and when access stands\nopen to every one at all times to this ultimate emancipation and\nirresponsibility.\u2014Perhaps then laughter will have united with wisdom,\nperhaps then there will be only \"joyful wisdom.\" Meanwhile, however, it\nis quite otherwise, meanwhile the comedy of existence has not yet\n\"become conscious\" of itself, meanwhile it is still the period of\ntragedy, the period of morals and religions. What does the ever new\nappearing of founders of morals and religions, of instigators of\nstruggles for moral valuations, of teachers of remorse of conscience and\nreligious war, imply? What do these heroes on this stage imply? For they\nhave hitherto been the heroes of it, and all else, though solely visible\nfor the time being, and too close to one, has served only as preparation\nfor these heroes, whether as machinery and coulisse, or in the r\u00f4le of\nconfidants and valets. (The poets, for example, have always been the\nvalets of some morality or other.)\u2014It is obvious of itself that these\ntragedians also work in the interest of the _race_, though they may\nbelieve that they work in the interest of God, and as emissaries of God.\nThey also further the life of the species, _in that they further the\nbelief in life_. \"It is worth while to live\"\u2014each of them calls\nout,\u2014\"there is something of importance in this life; life has something\nbehind it and under it; take care!\" That impulse, which rules equally in\nthe noblest and the ignoblest, the impulse towards the conservation of\nthe species, breaks forth from time to time as reason and passion of\nspirit; it has then a brilliant train of motives about it, and tries\nwith all its power to make us forget that fundamentally it is just\nimpulse, instinct, folly and baselessness. Life _should_ be loved, _for_\n...! Man _should_ benefit himself and his neighbour, _for_ ...! And\nwhatever all these _shoulds_ and _fors_ imply, and may imply in future!\nIn order that that which necessarily and always happens of itself and\nwithout design, may henceforth appear to be done by design, and may\nappeal to men as reason and ultimate command,\u2014for that purpose the\nethiculturist comes forward as the teacher of design in existence; for\nthat purpose he devises a second and different existence, and by means\nof this new mechanism he lifts the old common existence off its old\ncommon hinges. No! he does not at all want us to _laugh_ at existence,\nnor even at ourselves\u2014nor at himself; to him an individual is always an\nindividual, something first and last and immense, to him there are no\nspecies, no sums, no noughts. However foolish and fanatical his\ninventions and valuations may be, however much he may misunderstand the\ncourse of nature and deny its conditions\u2014and all systems of ethics\nhitherto have been foolish and anti-natural to such a degree that\nmankind would have been ruined by any one of them had it got the upper\nhand,\u2014at any rate, every time that \"the hero\" came upon the stage\nsomething new was attained: the frightful counterpart of laughter, the\nprofound convulsion of many individuals at the thought, \"Yes, it is\nworth while to live! yes, I am worthy to live!\"\u2014life, and thou, and I,\nand all of us together became for a while _interesting_ to ourselves\nonce more.\u2014It is not to be denied that hitherto laughter and reason and\nnature have _in the long run_ got the upper hand of all the great\nteachers of design: in the end the short tragedy always passed over once\nmore into the eternal comedy of existence; and the \"waves of innumerable\nlaughters\"\u2014to use the expression of \u00c6schylus\u2014must also in the end beat\nover the greatest of these tragedies. But with all this corrective\nlaughter, human nature has on the whole been changed by the ever new\nappearance of those teachers of the design of existence,\u2014human nature\nhas now an additional requirement, the very requirement of the ever new\nappearance of such teachers and doctrines of \"design.\" Man has gradually\nbecome a visionary animal, who has to fulfil one more condition of\nexistence than the other animals: man _must_ from time to time believe\nthat he knows _why_ he exists; his species cannot flourish without\nperiodically confiding in life! Without the belief in _reason in life_!\nAnd always from time to time will the human race decree anew that \"there\nis something which really may not be laughed at.\" And the most\nclairvoyant philanthropist will add that \"not only laughing and joyful\nwisdom, but also the tragic, with all its sublime irrationality, counts\namong the means and necessities for the conservation of the race!\"\u2014And\nconsequently! Consequently! Consequently! Do you understand me, oh my\nbrothers? Do you understand this new law of ebb and flow? We also shall\nhave our time!\n\n\n 2.\n\n_The Intellectual Conscience._\u2014I have always the same experience over\nagain, and always make a new effort against it; for although it is\nevident to me I do not want to believe it: _in the greater number of men\nthe intellectual conscience is lacking_; indeed, it would often seem to\nme that in demanding such a thing, one is as solitary in the largest\ncities as in the desert. Everyone looks at you with strange eyes, and\ncontinues to make use of his scales, calling this good and that bad; and\nno one blushes for shame when you remark that these weights are not the\nfull amount,\u2014there is also no indignation against you; perhaps they\nlaugh at your doubt. I mean to say that _the greater number of people_\ndo not find it contemptible to believe this or that, and live according\nto it, _without_ having been previously aware of the ultimate and surest\nreasons for and against it, and without even giving themselves any\ntrouble about such reasons afterwards,\u2014the most gifted men and the\nnoblest women still belong to this \"greater number.\" But what is\nkind-heartedness, refinement and genius to me, if the man with these\nvirtues harbours indolent sentiments in belief and judgment, if _the\nlonging for certainty_ does not rule in him, as his innermost desire and\nprofoundest need\u2014as that which separates higher from lower men! In\ncertain pious people I have found a hatred of reason, and have been\nfavourably disposed to them for it: their bad, intellectual conscience\nstill betrayed itself, at least in this manner! But to stand in the\nmidst of this _rerum concordia discors_ and all the marvellous\nuncertainty and ambiguity of existence, _and not to question_, not to\ntremble with desire and delight in questioning, not even to hate the\nquestioner\u2014perhaps even to make merry over him to the extent of\nweariness\u2014that is what I regard as _contemptible_, and it is this\nsentiment which I first of all search for in every one:\u2014some folly or\nother always persuades me anew that every man has this sentiment, as\nman. This is my special kind of unrighteousness.\n\n\n 3.\n\n_Noble and Ignoble._\u2014To ignoble natures all noble, magnanimous\nsentiments appear inexpedient, and on that account first and foremost,\nas incredible: they blink with their eyes when they hear of such\nmatters, and seem inclined to say, \"there will, no doubt, be some\nadvantage therefrom, one cannot see through all walls;\"\u2014they are jealous\nof the noble person, as if he sought advantage by back-stair methods.\nWhen they are all too plainly convinced of the absence of selfish\nintentions and emoluments, the noble person is regarded by them as a\nkind of fool: they despise him in his gladness, and laugh at the lustre\nof his eye. \"How can a person rejoice at being at a disadvantage, how\ncan a person with open eyes want to meet with disadvantage! It must be a\ndisease of the reason with which the noble affection is associated,\"\u2014so\nthey think, and they look depreciatingly thereon; just as they\ndepreciate the joy which the lunatic derives from his fixed idea. The\nignoble nature is distinguished by the fact that it keeps its advantage\nsteadily in view, and that this thought of the end and advantage is even\nstronger than its strongest impulse: not to be tempted to inexpedient\nactivities by its impulses\u2014that is its wisdom and inspiration. In\ncomparison with the ignoble nature the higher nature is _more\nirrational_:\u2014for the noble, magnanimous, and self-sacrificing person\nsuccumbs in fact to his impulses, and in his best moments his reason\n_lapses_ altogether. An animal, which at the risk of life protects its\nyoung, or in the pairing season follows the female where it meets with\ndeath, does not think of the risk and the death; its reason pauses\nlikewise, because its delight in its young, or in the female, and the\nfear of being deprived of this delight, dominate it exclusively; it\nbecomes stupider than at other times, like the noble and magnanimous\nperson. He possesses feelings of pleasure and pain of such intensity\nthat the intellect must either be silent before them, or yield itself to\ntheir service: his heart then goes into his head, and one henceforth\nspeaks of \"passions.\" (Here and there to be sure, the antithesis to\nthis, and as it were the \"reverse of passion,\" presents itself; for\nexample in Fontenelle, to whom some one once laid the hand on the heart\nwith the words, \"What you have there, my dearest friend, is brain\nalso.\") It is the unreason, or perverse reason of passion, which the\nignoble man despises in the noble individual, especially when it\nconcentrates upon objects whose value appears to him to be altogether\nfantastic and arbitrary. He is offended at him who succumbs to the\npassion of the belly, but he understands the allurement which here plays\nthe tyrant; but he does not understand, for example, how a person out of\nlove of knowledge can stake his health and honour on the game. The taste\nof the higher nature devotes itself to exceptional matters, to things\nwhich usually do not affect people, and seem to have no sweetness; the\nhigher nature has a singular standard of value. Besides, it is mostly of\nthe belief that it has _not_ a singular standard of value in its\nidiosyncrasies of taste; it rather sets up its values and non-values as\nthe generally valid values and non-values, and thus becomes\nincomprehensible and impracticable. It is very rarely that a higher\nnature has so much reason over and above as to understand and deal with\neveryday men as such; for the most part it believes in its passion as if\nit were the concealed passion of every one, and precisely in this belief\nit is full of ardour and eloquence. If then such exceptional men do not\nperceive themselves as exceptions, how can they ever understand the\nignoble natures and estimate average men fairly! Thus it is that they\nalso speak of the folly, inexpediency and fantasy of mankind, full of\nastonishment at the madness of the world, and that it will not recognise\nthe \"one thing needful for it.\"\u2014This is the eternal unrighteousness of\nnoble natures.\n\n\n 4.\n\n_That which Preserves the Species._\u2014The strongest and most evil spirits\nhave hitherto advanced mankind the most: they always rekindled the\nsleeping passions\u2014all orderly arranged society lulls the passions to\nsleep; they always reawakened the sense of comparison, of contradiction,\nof delight in the new, the adventurous, the untried; they compelled men\nto set opinion against opinion, ideal plan against ideal plan. By means\nof arms, by upsetting boundary-stones, by violations of piety most of\nall: but also by new religions and morals! The same kind of \"wickedness\"\nis in every teacher and preacher of the _new_\u2014which makes a conqueror\ninfamous, although it expresses itself more refinedly, and does not\nimmediately set the muscles in motion (and just on that account does not\nmake so infamous!). The new, however, is under all circumstances the\n_evil_, as that which wants to conquer, which tries to upset the old\nboundary-stones and the old piety; only the old is the good! The good\nmen of every age are those who go to the roots of the old thoughts and\nbear fruit with them, the agriculturists of the spirit. But every soil\nbecomes finally exhausted, and the ploughshare of evil must always come\nonce more.\u2014There is at present a fundamentally erroneous theory of\nmorals which is much celebrated, especially in England: according to it\nthe judgments \"good\" and \"evil\" are the accumulation of the experiences\nof that which is \"expedient\" and \"inexpedient\"; according to this\ntheory, that which is called good is conservative of the species, what\nis called evil, however, is detrimental to it. But in reality the evil\nimpulses are just in as high a degree expedient, indispensable, and\nconservative of the species as the good:\u2014only, their function is\ndifferent.\n\n\n 5.\n\n_Unconditional Duties._\u2014All men who feel that they need the strongest\nwords and intonations, the most eloquent gestures and attitudes, in\norder to operate _at all_\u2014revolutionary politicians, socialists,\npreachers of repentance with or without Christianity, with all of whom\nthere must be no mere half-success,\u2014all these speak of \"duties,\" and\nindeed, always of duties, which have the character of being\nunconditional\u2014without such they would have no right to their excessive\npathos: they know that right well! They grasp, therefore, at\nphilosophies of morality which preach some kind of categorical\nimperative, or they assimilate a good lump of religion, as, for example,\nMazzini did. Because they want to be trusted unconditionally, it is\nfirst of all necessary for them to trust themselves unconditionally, on\nthe basis of some ultimate, undebatable command, sublime in itself, as\nthe ministers and instruments of which, they would fain feel and\nannounce themselves. Here we have the most natural, and for the most\npart, very influential opponents of moral enlightenment and scepticism:\nbut they are rare. On the other hand, there is always a very numerous\nclass of those opponents wherever interest teaches subjection, while\nrepute and honour seem to forbid it. He who feels himself dishonoured at\nthe thought of being the _instrument_ of a prince, or of a party and\nsect, or even of wealthy power (for example, as the descendant of a\nproud, ancient family), but wishes just to be this instrument, or must\nbe so before himself and before the public\u2014such a person has need of\npathetic principles which can at all times be appealed to:\u2014principles of\nan unconditional _ought_, to which a person can subject himself without\nshame, and can show himself subjected. All more refined servility holds\nfast to the categorical imperative, and is the mortal enemy of those who\nwant to take away the unconditional character of duty: propriety demands\nthis from them, and not only propriety.\n\n\n 6.\n\n_Loss of Dignity._\u2014Meditation has lost all its dignity of form; the\nceremonial and solemn bearing of the meditative person have been made a\nmockery, and one would no longer endure a wise man of the old style. We\nthink too hastily and on the way and while walking and in the midst of\nbusiness of all kinds, even when we think on the most serious matters;\nwe require little preparation, even little quiet:\u2014it is as if each of us\ncarried about an unceasingly revolving machine in his head, which still\nworks, even under the most unfavourable circumstances. Formerly it was\nperceived in a person that on some occasion he wanted to think\u2014it was\nperhaps the exception!\u2014that he now wanted to become wiser and collected\nhis mind on a thought: he put on a long face for it, as for a prayer,\nand arrested his step\u2014nay, stood still for hours on the street when the\nthought \"came\"\u2014on one or on two legs. It was thus \"worthy of the\naffair\"!\n\n\n 7.\n\n_Something for the Laborious._\u2014He who at present wants to make moral\nquestions a subject of study has an immense field of labour before him.\nAll kinds of passions must be thought about singly, and followed singly\nthroughout periods, peoples, great and insignificant individuals; all\ntheir rationality, all their valuations and elucidations of things,\nought to come to light! Hitherto all that has given colour to existence\nhas lacked a history: where would one find a history of love, of\navarice, of envy, of conscience, of piety, of cruelty? Even a\ncomparative history of law, as also of punishment, has hitherto been\ncompletely lacking. Have the different divisions of the day, the\nconsequences of a regular appointment of the times for labour, feast,\nand repose, ever been made the object of investigation? Do we know the\nmoral effects of the alimentary substances? Is there a philosophy of\nnutrition? (The ever-recurring outcry for and against vegetarianism\nproves that as yet there is no such philosophy!) Have the experiences\nwith regard to communal living, for example, in monasteries, been\ncollected? Has the dialectic of marriage and friendship been set forth?\nThe customs of the learned, of trades-people, of artists, and of\nmechanics\u2014have they already found their thinkers? There is so much to\nthink of thereon! All that up till now has been considered as the\n\"conditions of existence,\" of human beings, and all reason, passion and\nsuperstition in this consideration\u2014have they been investigated to the\nend? The observation alone of the different degrees of development which\nthe human impulses have attained, and could yet attain, according to the\ndifferent moral climates, would furnish too much work for the most\nlaborious; whole generations, and regular co-operating generations of\nthe learned, would be needed in order to exhaust the points of view and\nthe material here furnished. The same is true of the determining of the\nreasons for the differences of the moral climates (\"_on what account_\ndoes this sun of a fundamental moral judgment and standard of highest\nvalue shine here\u2014and that sun there?\"). And there is again a new labour\nwhich points out the erroneousness of all these reasons, and determines\nthe entire essence of the moral judgments hitherto made. Supposing all\nthese labours to be accomplished, the most critical of all questions\nwould then come into the foreground: whether science is in a position to\n_furnish_ goals for human action, after it has proved that it can take\nthem away and annihilate them\u2014and then would be the time for a process\nof experimenting in which every kind of heroism could satisfy itself, an\nexperimenting for centuries, which would put into the shade all the\ngreat labours and sacrifices of previous history. Science has not\nhitherto built its Cyclopic structures; for that also the time will\ncome.\n\n\n 8.\n\n_Unconscious Virtues._\u2014All qualities in a man of which he is\nconscious\u2014and especially when he presumes that they are visible and\nevident to his environment also\u2014are subject to quite other laws of\ndevelopment than those qualities which are unknown to him, or\nimperfectly known, which by their subtlety can also conceal themselves\nfrom the subtlest observer, and hide as it were behind nothing,\u2014as in\nthe case of the delicate sculptures on the scales of reptiles (it would\nbe an error to suppose them an adornment or a defence\u2014for one sees them\nonly with the microscope; consequently, with an eye artificially\nstrengthened to an extent of vision which similar animals, to which they\nmight perhaps have meant adornment or defence, do not possess!) Our\nvisible moral qualities, and especially our moral qualities _believed to\nbe_ visible, follow their own course,\u2014and our invisible qualities of\nsimilar name, which in relation to others neither serve for adornment\nnor defence, _also follow their own course_: quite a different course\nprobably, and with lines and refinements, and sculptures, which might\nperhaps give pleasure to a God with a divine microscope. We have, for\nexample, our diligence, our ambition, our acuteness: all the world knows\nabout them,\u2014and besides, we have probably once more _our_ diligence,\n_our_ ambition, _our_ acuteness; but for these\u2014our reptile scales\u2014the\nmicroscope has not yet been invented!\u2014And here the adherents of\ninstinctive morality will say, \"Bravo! He at least regards unconscious\nvirtues as possible\u2014that suffices us!\"\u2014Oh, ye unexacting creatures!\n\n\n 9.\n\n_Our Eruptions._\u2014Numberless things which humanity acquired in its\nearlier stages, but so weakly and embryonically that it could not be\nnoticed that they were acquired, are thrust suddenly into light long\nafterwards, perhaps after the lapse of centuries: they have in the\ninterval become strong and mature. In some ages this or that talent,\nthis or that virtue seems to be entirely lacking, as it is in some men;\nbut let us wait only for the grandchildren and grandchildren's children,\nif we have time to wait,\u2014they bring the interior of their grandfathers\ninto the sun, that interior of which the grandfathers themselves were\nunconscious. The son, indeed, is often the betrayer of his father; the\nlatter understands himself better since he has got his son. We have all\nhidden gardens and plantations in us; and by another simile, we are all\ngrowing volcanoes, which will have their hours of eruption:\u2014how near or\nhow distant this is, nobody of course knows, not even the good God.\n\n\n 10.\n\n_A Species of Atavism._\u2014I like best to think of the rare men of an age\nas suddenly emerging aftershoots of past cultures, and of their\npersistent strength: like the atavism of a people and its\ncivilisation:\u2014there is thus still something in them to _think of_! They\nnow seem strange, rare, and extraordinary: and he who feels these forces\nin himself has to foster them in face of a different, opposing world; he\nhas to defend them, honour them, and rear them to maturity: and he\neither becomes a great man thereby, or a deranged and eccentric person,\nunless he should altogether break down betimes. Formerly these rare\nqualities were usual, and were consequently regarded as common: they did\nnot distinguish people. Perhaps they were demanded and presupposed; it\nwas impossible to become great with them, for indeed there was also no\ndanger of becoming insane and solitary with them.\u2014It is principally in\nthe _old-established_ families and castes of a people that such\nafter-effects of old impulses present themselves, while there is no\nprobability of such atavism where races, habits, and valuations change\ntoo rapidly. For the _tempo_ of the evolutional forces in peoples\nimplies just as much as in music; for our case an _andante_ of evolution\nis absolutely necessary, as the _tempo_ of a passionate and slow\nspirit:\u2014and the spirit of conserving families is certainly of _that_\nsort.\n\n\n 11.\n\n_Consciousness._\u2014Consciousness is the last and latest development of the\norganic, and consequently also the most unfinished and least powerful of\nthese developments. Innumerable mistakes originate out of consciousness,\nwhich, \"in spite of fate,\" as Homer says, cause an animal or a man to\nbreak down earlier than might be necessary. If the conserving bond of\nthe instincts were not very much more powerful, it would not generally\nserve as a regulator: by perverse judging and dreaming with open eyes,\nby superficiality and credulity, in short, just by consciousness,\nmankind would necessarily have broken down: or rather, without the\nformer there would long ago have been nothing more of the latter! Before\na function is fully formed and matured, it is a danger to the organism:\nall the better if it be then thoroughly tyrannised over! Consciousness\nis thus thoroughly tyrannised over\u2014and not least by the pride in it! It\nis thought that here is _the quintessence_ of man; that which is\nenduring, eternal, ultimate, and most original in him! Consciousness is\nregarded as a fixed, given magnitude! Its growth and intermittences are\ndenied! It is accepted as the \"unity of the organism\"!\u2014This ludicrous\novervaluation and misconception of consciousness, has as its result the\ngreat utility, that a too rapid maturing of it has thereby been\n_hindered_. Because men believed that they already possessed\nconsciousness, they gave themselves very little trouble to acquire\nit\u2014and even now it is not otherwise! It is still an entirely new\n_problem_ just dawning on the human eye and hardly yet plainly\nrecognisable: _to embody knowledge in ourselves_ and make it\ninstinctive,\u2014a problem which is only seen by those who have grasped the\nfact that hitherto our _errors_ alone have been embodied in us, and that\nall our consciousness is relative to errors!\n\n\n 12.\n\n_The Goal of Science._\u2014What? The ultimate goal of science is to create\nthe most pleasure possible to man, and the least possible pain? But what\nif pleasure and pain should be so closely connected that he who _wants_\nthe greatest possible amount of the one _must_ also have the greatest\npossible amount of the other,\u2014that he who wants to experience the\n\"heavenly high jubilation,\"[7] must also be ready to be \"sorrowful unto\ndeath\"?(ref. same footnote) And it is so, perhaps! The Stoics at least\nbelieved it was so, and they were consistent when they wished to have\nthe least possible pleasure, in order to have the least possible pain\nfrom life. (When one uses the expression: \"The virtuous man is the\nhappiest,\" it is as much the sign-board of the school for the masses, as\na casuistic subtlety for the subtle.) At present also ye have still the\nchoice: either the _least possible pain_, in short painlessness\u2014and\nafter all, socialists and politicians of all parties could not\nhonourably promise more to their people,\u2014or the _greatest possible\namount of pain_, as the price of the growth of a fullness of refined\ndelights and enjoyments rarely tasted hitherto! If ye decide for the\nformer, if ye therefore want to depress and minimise man's capacity for\npain, well, ye must also depress and minimise his _capacity for\nenjoyment_. In fact, one can further the one as well as the other goal\n_by science_! Perhaps science is as yet best known by its capacity for\ndepriving man of enjoyment, and making him colder, more statuesque, and\nmore Stoical. But it might also turn out to be the _great\npain-bringer_!\u2014And then, perhaps, its counteracting force would be\ndiscovered simultaneously, its immense capacity for making new sidereal\nworlds of enjoyment beam forth!\n\n\n 13.\n\n_The Theory of the Sense of Power._\u2014We exercise our power over others by\ndoing them good or by doing them ill\u2014that is all we care for! _Doing\nill_ to those on whom we have to make our power felt; for pain is a far\nmore sensitive means for that purpose than pleasure:\u2014pain always asks\nconcerning the cause, while pleasure is inclined to keep within itself\nand not look backward. _Doing good_ and being kind to those who are in\nany way already dependent on us (that is, who are accustomed to think of\nus as their _raison d'\u00eatre_); we want to increase their power, because\nwe thus increase our own; or we want to show them the advantage there is\nin being in our power,\u2014they thus become more contented with their\nposition, and more hostile to the enemies of _our_ power and readier to\ncontend with them. If we make sacrifices in doing good or in doing ill,\nit does not alter the ultimate value of our actions; even if we stake\nour life in the cause, as martyrs for the sake of our church, it is a\nsacrifice to _our_ longing for power, or for the purpose of conserving\nour sense of power. He who under these circumstances feels that he \"is\nin possession of truth,\" how many possessions does he not let go, in\norder to preserve this feeling! What does he not throw overboard, in\norder to keep himself \"up,\"\u2014that is to say, _above_ the others who lack\nthe \"truth\"! Certainly the condition we are in when we do ill is seldom\nso pleasant, so purely pleasant, as that in which we practise\nkindness,\u2014it is an indication that we still lack power, or it betrays\nill-humour at this defect in us; it brings with it new dangers and\nuncertainties as to the power we already possess, and clouds our horizon\nby the prospect of revenge, scorn, punishment and failure. Perhaps only\nthose most susceptible to the sense of power, and eager for it, will\nprefer to impress the seal of power on the resisting individual,\u2014those\nto whom the sight of the already subjugated person as the object of\nbenevolence is a burden and a tedium. It is a question how a person is\naccustomed to _season_ his life; it is a matter of taste whether a\nperson would rather have the slow or the sudden, the safe or the\ndangerous and daring increase of power,\u2014he seeks this or that seasoning\nalways according to his temperament. An easy booty is something\ncontemptible to proud natures; they have an agreeable sensation only at\nthe sight of men of unbroken spirit who could be enemies to them, and\nsimilarly, also, at the sight of all not easily accessible possession;\nthey are often hard toward the sufferer, for he is not worthy of their\neffort or their pride,\u2014but they show themselves so much the more\ncourteous towards their _equals_, with whom strife and struggle would in\nany case be full of honour, _if_ at any time an occasion for it should\npresent itself. It is under the agreeable feelings of _this_ perspective\nthat the members of the knightly caste have habituated themselves to\nexquisite courtesy toward one another.\u2014Pity is the most pleasant feeling\nin those who have not much pride, and have no prospect of great\nconquests: the easy booty\u2014and that is what every sufferer is\u2014is for them\nan enchanting thing. Pity is said to be the virtue of the gay lady.\n\n\n 14.\n\n_What is called Love._\u2014The lust of property and love: what different\nassociations each of these ideas evoke!\u2014and yet it might be the same\nimpulse twice named: on the one occasion disparaged from the standpoint\nof those already possessing (in whom the impulse has attained something\nof repose, and who are now apprehensive for the safety of their\n\"possession\"); on the other occasion viewed from the standpoint of the\nunsatisfied and thirsty, and therefore glorified as \"good.\" Our love of\nour neighbour,\u2014is it not a striving after new _property_? And similarly\nour love of knowledge, of truth; and in general all the striving after\nnovelties? We gradually become satiated with the old, the securely\npossessed, and again stretch out our hands; even the finest landscape in\nwhich we live for three months is no longer certain of our love, and any\nkind of more distant coast excites our covetousness: the possession for\nthe most part becomes smaller through possessing. Our pleasure in\nourselves seeks to maintain itself, by always transforming something new\n_into ourselves_,\u2014that is just possessing. To become satiated with a\npossession, that is to become satiated with ourselves. (One can also\nsuffer from excess,\u2014even the desire to cast away, to share out, can\nassume the honourable name of \"love.\") When we see any one suffering, we\nwillingly utilise the opportunity then afforded to take possession of\nhim; the beneficent and sympathetic man, for example, does this; he also\ncalls the desire for new possession awakened in him, by the name of\n\"love,\" and has enjoyment in it, as in a new acquisition suggesting\nitself to him. The love of the sexes, however, betrays itself most\nplainly as the striving after possession: the lover wants the\nunconditioned, sole possession of the person longed for by him; he wants\njust as absolute power over her soul as over her body; he wants to be\nloved solely, and to dwell and rule in the other soul as what is highest\nand most to be desired. When one considers that this means precisely to\n_exclude_ all the world from a precious possession, a happiness, and an\nenjoyment; when one considers that the lover has in view the\nimpoverishment and privation of all other rivals, and would like to\nbecome the dragon of his golden hoard, as the most inconsiderate and\nselfish of all \"conquerors\" and exploiters; when one considers finally\nthat to the lover himself, the whole world besides appears indifferent,\ncolourless, and worthless, and that he is ready to make every sacrifice,\ndisturb every arrangement, and put every other interest behind his\nown,\u2014one is verily surprised that this ferocious lust of property and\ninjustice of sexual love should have been glorified and deified to such\nan extent at all times; yea, that out of this love the conception of\nlove as the antithesis of egoism should have been derived, when it is\nperhaps precisely the most unqualified expression of egoism. Here,\nevidently, the non-possessors and desirers have determined the usage of\nlanguage,\u2014there were, of course, always too many of them. Those who have\nbeen favoured with much possession and satiety, have, to be sure,\ndropped a word now and then about the \"raging demon,\" as, for instance,\nthe most lovable and most beloved of all the Athenians\u2014Sophocles; but\nEros always laughed at such revilers,\u2014they were always his greatest\nfavourites.\u2014There is, of course, here and there on this terrestrial\nsphere a kind of sequel to love, in which that covetous longing of two\npersons for one another has yielded to a new desire and covetousness, to\na _common_, higher thirst for a superior ideal standing above them: but\nwho knows this love? Who has experienced it? Its right name is\n_friendship_.\n\n\n 15.\n\n_Out of the Distance._\u2014This mountain makes the whole district which it\ndominates charming in every way, and full of significance: after we have\nsaid this to ourselves for the hundredth time, we are so irrationally\nand so gratefully disposed towards it, as the giver of this charm, that\nwe fancy it must itself be the most charming thing in the district\u2014and\nso we climb it, and are undeceived. All of a sudden, it itself, and the\nwhole landscape around and under us, is as it were disenchanted; we had\nforgotten that many a greatness, like many a goodness, wants only to be\nseen at a certain distance, and entirely from below, not from above,\u2014it\nis thus only that _it operates_. Perhaps you know men in your\nneighbourhood who can only look at themselves from a certain distance to\nfind themselves at all endurable, or attractive and enlivening; they are\nto be dissuaded from self-knowledge.\n\n\n 16.\n\n_Across the Plank._\u2014One must be able to dissimulate in intercourse with\npersons who are ashamed of their feelings; they experience a sudden\naversion towards anyone who surprises them in a state of tender, or\nenthusiastic and high-running feeling, as if he had seen their secrets.\nIf one wants to be kind to them in such moments one should make them\nlaugh, or say some kind of cold, playful wickedness:\u2014their feeling\nthereby congeals, and they are again self-possessed. But I give the\nmoral before the story.\u2014We were once on a time so near one another in\nthe course of our lives, that nothing more seemed to hinder our\nfriendship and fraternity, and there was merely a small plank between\nus. While you were just about to step on it, I asked you: \"Do you want\nto come across the plank to me?\" But then you did not want to come any\nlonger; and when I again entreated, you were silent. Since then\nmountains and torrents, and whatever separates and alienates, have\ninterposed between us, and even if we wanted to come to one another, we\ncould no longer do so! When, however, you now remember that small plank,\nyou have no longer words,\u2014but merely sobs and amazement.\n\n\n 17.\n\n_Motivation of Poverty._\u2014We cannot, to be sure, by any artifice make a\nrich and richly-flowing virtue out of a poor one, but we can gracefully\nenough reinterpret its poverty into necessity, so that its aspect no\nlonger gives pain to us, and we do not make any reproachful faces at\nfate on account of it. It is thus that the wise gardener does, who puts\nthe tiny streamlet of his garden into the arms of a fountain-nymph, and\nthus motivates the poverty:\u2014and who would not like him need the nymphs!\n\n\n 18.\n\n_Ancient Pride._\u2014The ancient savour of nobility is lacking in us,\nbecause the ancient slave is lacking in our sentiment. A Greek of noble\ndescent found such immense intermediate stages, and such a distance\nbetwixt his elevation and that ultimate baseness, that he could hardly\neven see the slave plainly: even Plato no longer saw him entirely. It is\notherwise with us, accustomed as we are to the _doctrine_ of the\nequality of men, although not to the equality itself. A being who has\nnot the free disposal of himself and has not got leisure,\u2014that is not\nregarded by us as anything contemptible; there is perhaps too much of\nthis kind of slavishness in each of us, in accordance with the\nconditions of our social order and activity, which are fundamentally\ndifferent from those of the ancients.\u2014The Greek philosopher went through\nlife with the secret feeling that there were many more slaves than\npeople supposed\u2014that is to say, that every one was a slave who was not a\nphilosopher. His pride was puffed up when he considered that even the\nmightiest of the earth were thus to be looked upon as slaves. This pride\nis also unfamiliar to us, and impossible; the word \"slave\" has not its\nfull force for us even in simile.\n\n\n 19.\n\n_Evil._\u2014Test the life of the best and most productive men and nations,\nand ask yourselves whether a tree which is to grow proudly heavenward\ncan dispense with bad weather and tempests: whether disfavour and\nopposition from without, whether every kind of hatred, jealousy,\nstubbornness, distrust, severity, greed, and violence do not belong to\nthe _favouring_ circumstances without which a great growth even in\nvirtue is hardly possible? The poison by which the weaker nature is\ndestroyed is strengthening to the strong individual\u2014and he does not call\nit poison.\n\n\n 20.\n\n_Dignity of Folly._\u2014Several millenniums further on in the path of the\nlast century!\u2014and in everything that man does the highest prudence will\nbe exhibited: but just thereby prudence will have lost all its dignity.\nIt will then, sure enough, be necessary to be prudent, but it will also\nbe so usual and common, that a more fastidious taste will feel this\nnecessity as _vulgarity_. And just as a tyranny of truth and science\nwould be in a position to raise the value of falsehood, a tyranny of\nprudence could force into prominence a new species of nobleness. To be\nnoble\u2014that might then mean, perhaps, to be capable of follies.\n\n\n 21.\n\n_To the Teachers of Unselfishness._\u2014The virtues of a man are called\n_good_, not in respect of the results they have for himself, but in\nrespect of the results which we expect therefrom for ourselves and for\nsociety:\u2014we have all along had very little unselfishness, very little\n\"non-egoism\" in our praise of the virtues! For otherwise it could not\nbut have been seen that the virtues (such as diligence, obedience,\nchastity, piety, justice) are mostly _injurious_ to their possessors, as\nimpulses which rule in them too vehemently and ardently, and do not want\nto be kept in co-ordination with the other impulses by the reason. If\nyou have a virtue, an actual, perfect virtue (and not merely a kind of\nimpulse towards virtue!)\u2014you are its _victim_! But your neighbour\npraises your virtue precisely on that account! One praises the diligent\nman though he injures his sight, or the originality and freshness of his\nspirit, by his diligence; the youth is honoured and regretted who has\n\"worn himself out by work,\" because one passes the judgment that \"for\nsociety as a whole the loss of the best individual is only a small\nsacrifice! A pity that this sacrifice should be necessary! A much\ngreater pity, it is true, if the individual should think differently,\nand regard his preservation and development as more important than his\nwork in the service of society!\" And so one regrets this youth, not on\nhis own account, but because a devoted _instrument_, regardless of\nself\u2014a so-called \"good man,\" has been lost to society by his death.\nPerhaps one further considers the question, whether it would not have\nbeen more advantageous for the interests of society if he had laboured\nwith less disregard of himself, and had preserved himself\nlonger,\u2014indeed, one readily admits an advantage therefrom, but one\nesteems the other advantage, namely, that a _sacrifice_ has been made,\nand that the disposition of the sacrificial animal has once more been\n_obviously_ endorsed\u2014as higher and more enduring. It is accordingly, on\nthe one part, the instrumental character in the virtues which is praised\nwhen the virtues are praised, and on the other part, the blind, ruling\nimpulse in every virtue, which refuses to let itself be kept within\nbounds by the general advantage to the individual; in short, what is\npraised is the unreason in the virtues, in consequence of which the\nindividual allows himself to be transformed into a function of the\nwhole. The praise of the virtues is the praise of something which is\nprivately injurious to the individual; it is praise of impulses which\ndeprive man of his noblest self-love, and the power to take the best\ncare of himself. To be sure, for the teaching and embodying of virtuous\nhabits a series of effects of virtue are displayed, which make it appear\nthat virtue and private advantage are closely related,\u2014and there is in\nfact such a relationship! Blindly furious diligence, for example, the\ntypical virtue of an instrument, is represented as the way to riches and\nhonour, and as the most beneficial antidote to tedium and passion: but\npeople are silent concerning its danger, its greatest dangerousness.\nEducation proceeds in this manner throughout: it endeavours, by a series\nof enticements and advantages, to determine the individual to a certain\nmode of thinking and acting, which, when it has become habit, impulse\nand passion, rules in him and over him, _in opposition to his ultimate\nadvantage_, but \"for the general good.\" How often do I see that blindly\nfurious diligence does indeed create riches and honours, but at the same\ntime deprives the organs of the refinement by virtue of which alone an\nenjoyment of riches and honours is possible; so that really the main\nexpedient for combating tedium and passion, simultaneously blunts the\nsenses and makes the spirit refractory towards new stimuli! (The busiest\nof all ages\u2014our age\u2014does not know how to make anything out of its great\ndiligence and wealth, except always more and more wealth, and more and\nmore diligence; there is even more genius needed for laying out wealth\nthan for acquiring it!\u2014Well, we shall have our \"grandchildren\"!) If the\neducation succeeds, every virtue of the individual is a public utility,\nand a private disadvantage in respect to the highest private\nend,\u2014probably some psycho-\u00e6sthetic stunting, or even premature\ndissolution. One should consider successively from the same standpoint\nthe virtues of obedience, chastity, piety, and justice. The praise of\nthe unselfish, self-sacrificing, virtuous person\u2014he, consequently, who\ndoes not expend his whole energy and reason for _his own_ conservation,\ndevelopment, elevation, furtherance and augmentation of power, but lives\nas regards himself unassumingly and thoughtlessly, perhaps even\nindifferently or ironically,\u2014this praise has in any case not originated\nout of the spirit of unselfishness! The \"neighbour\" praises\nunselfishness because _he profits by it_! If the neighbour were\n\"unselfishly\" disposed himself, he would reject that destruction of\npower, that injury for _his_ advantage, he would thwart such\ninclinations in their origin, and above all he would manifest his\nunselfishness just by _not giving it a good name_! The fundamental\ncontradiction in that morality which at present stands in high honour is\nhere indicated: the _motives_ to such a morality are in antithesis to\nits _principle_! That with which this morality wishes to prove itself,\nrefutes it out of its criterion of what is moral! The maxim, \"Thou shalt\nrenounce thyself and offer thyself as a sacrifice,\" in order not to be\ninconsistent with its own morality, could only be decreed by a being who\nhimself renounced his own advantage thereby, and who perhaps in the\nrequired self-sacrifice of individuals brought about his own\ndissolution. As soon, however, as the neighbour (or society) recommended\naltruism _on account of its utility_, the precisely antithetical\nproposition, \"Thou shalt seek thy advantage even at the expense of\neverybody else,\" was brought into use: accordingly, \"thou shalt,\" and\n\"thou shalt not,\" are preached in one breath!\n\n\n 22.\n\n_L'Ordre du Jour pour le Roi._\u2014The day commences: let us begin to\narrange for this day the business and f\u00eates of our most gracious lord,\nwho at present is still pleased to repose. His Majesty has bad weather\nto-day: we shall be careful not to call it bad; we shall not speak of\nthe weather,\u2014but we shall go through to-day's business somewhat more\nceremoniously and make the f\u00eates somewhat more festive than would\notherwise be necessary. His Majesty may perhaps even be sick: we shall\ngive the last good news of the evening at breakfast, the arrival of M.\nMontaigne, who knows how to joke so pleasantly about his sickness,\u2014he\nsuffers from stone. We shall receive several persons (persons!\u2014what\nwould that old inflated frog, who will be among them, say, if he heard\nthis word! \"I am no person,\" he would say, \"but always the thing\nitself\")\u2014and the reception will last longer than is pleasant to anybody;\na sufficient reason for telling about the poet who wrote over his door,\n\"He who enters here will do me an honour; he who does not\u2014a\nfavour.\"\u2014That is, forsooth, saying a discourteous thing in a courteous\nmanner! And perhaps this poet is quite justified on his part in being\ndiscourteous; they say that the rhymes are better than the rhymester.\nWell, let him still make many of them, and withdraw himself as much as\npossible from the world: and that is doubtless the significance of his\nwell-bred rudeness! A prince, on the other hand, is always of more value\nthan his \"verse,\" even when\u2014but what are we about? We gossip, and the\nwhole court believes that we have already been at work and racked our\nbrains: there is no light to be seen earlier than that which burns in\nour window.\u2014Hark! Was that not the bell? The devil! The day and the\ndance commence, and we do not know our rounds! We must then\nimprovise,\u2014all the world improvises its day. To-day, let us for once do\nlike all the world!\u2014And therewith vanished my wonderful morning dream,\nprobably owing to the violent strokes of the tower-clock, which just\nthen announced the fifth hour with all the importance which is peculiar\nto it. It seems to me that, on this occasion, the God of dreams wanted\nto make merry over my habits,\u2014it is my habit to commence the day by\narranging it properly, to make it endurable _for myself_, and it is\npossible that I may often have done this too formally, and too much like\na prince.\n\n\n 23.\n\n_The Characteristics of Corruption._\u2014Let us observe the following\ncharacteristics in that condition of society from time to time\nnecessary, which is designated by the word \"corruption.\" Immediately\nupon the appearance of corruption anywhere, a motley _superstition_\ngets the upper hand, and the hitherto universal belief of a people\nbecomes colourless and impotent in comparison with it; for\nsuperstition is freethinking of the second rank,\u2014he who gives himself\nover to it selects certain forms and formul\u00e6 which appeal to him, and\npermits himself a right of choice. The superstitious man is always\nmuch more of a \"person,\" in comparison with the religious man, and a\nsuperstitious society will be one in which there are many individuals,\nand a delight in individuality. Seen from this standpoint superstition\nalways appears as a _progress_ in comparison with belief, and as a\nsign that the intellect becomes more independent and claims to have\nits rights. Those who reverence the old religion and the religious\ndisposition then complain of corruption,\u2014they have hitherto also\ndetermined the usage of language, and have given a bad repute to\nsuperstition, even among the freest spirits. Let us learn that it is a\nsymptom of _enlightenment_.\u2014Secondly, a society in which corruption\ntakes a hold is blamed for _effeminacy_: for the appreciation of war,\nand the delight in war perceptibly diminish in such a society, and the\nconveniences of life are now just as eagerly sought after as were\nmilitary and gymnastic honours formerly. But one is accustomed to\noverlook the fact that the old national energy and national passion,\nwhich acquired a magnificent splendour in war and in the tourney, has\nnow transferred itself into innumerable private passions, and has\nmerely become less visible; indeed in periods of \"corruption\" the\nquantity and quality of the expended energy of a people is probably\ngreater than ever, and the individual spends it lavishly, to such an\nextent as could not be done formerly\u2014he was not then rich enough to do\nso! And thus it is precisely in times of \"effeminacy\" that tragedy\nruns at large in and out of doors, it is then that ardent love and\nardent hatred are born, and the flame of knowledge flashes heavenward\nin full blaze.\u2014Thirdly, as if in amends for the reproach of\nsuperstition and effeminacy, it is customary to say of such periods of\ncorruption that they are milder, and that cruelty has then greatly\ndiminished in comparison with the older, more credulous, and stronger\nperiod. But to this praise I am just as little able to assent as to\nthat reproach: I only grant so much\u2014namely, that cruelty now becomes\nmore refined, and its older forms are henceforth counter to the taste;\nbut the wounding and torturing by word and look reaches its highest\ndevelopment in times of corruption,\u2014it is now only that _wickedness_\nis created, and the delight in wickedness. The men of the period of\ncorruption are witty and calumnious; they know that there are yet\nother ways of murdering than by the dagger and the ambush\u2014they know\nalso that all that is _well said_ is believed in.\u2014Fourthly, it is when\n\"morals decay\" that those beings whom one calls tyrants first make\ntheir appearance; they are the forerunners of the _individual_, and as\nit were early matured _firstlings_. Yet a little while, and this fruit\nof fruits hangs ripe and yellow on the tree of a people,\u2014and only for\nthe sake of such fruit did this tree exist! When the decay has reached\nits worst, and likewise the conflict of all sorts of tyrants, there\nalways arises the C\u00e6sar, the final tyrant, who puts an end to the\nexhausted struggle for sovereignty, by making the exhaustedness work\nfor him. In his time the individual is usually most mature, and\nconsequently the \"culture\" is highest and most fruitful, but not on\nhis account nor through him: although the men of highest culture love\nto flatter their C\u00e6sar by pretending that they are _his_ creation. The\ntruth, however, is that they need quietness externally, because\ninternally they have disquietude and labour. In these times bribery\nand treason are at their height: for the love of the _ego_, then first\ndiscovered, is much more powerful than the love of the old, used-up,\nhackneyed \"fatherland\"; and the need to be secure in one way or other\nagainst the frightful fluctuations of fortune, opens even the nobler\nhands, as soon as a richer and more powerful person shows himself\nready to put gold into them. There is then so little certainty with\nregard to the future; people live only for the day: a condition of\nmind which enables every deceiver to play an easy game,\u2014people of\ncourse only let themselves be misled and bribed \"for the present,\" and\nreserve for themselves futurity and virtue. The individuals, as is\nwell known, the men who only live for themselves, provide for the\nmoment more than do their opposites, the gregarious men, because they\nconsider themselves just as incalculable as the future; and similarly\nthey attach themselves willingly to despots, because they believe\nthemselves capable of activities and expedients, which can neither\nreckon on being understood by the multitude, nor on finding favour\nwith them,\u2014but the tyrant or the C\u00e6sar understands the rights of the\nIndividual even in his excesses, and has an interest in speaking on\nbehalf of a bolder private morality, and even in giving his hand to\nit. For he thinks of himself, and wishes people to think of him what\nNapoleon once uttered in his classical style\u2014\"I have the right to\nanswer by an eternal 'thus I am' to everything about which complaint\nis brought against me. I am apart from all the world, I accept\nconditions from nobody. I wish people also to submit to my fancies,\nand to take it quite as a simple matter, if I should indulge in this\nor that diversion.\" Thus spoke Napoleon once to his wife, when she had\nreasons for calling in question the fidelity of her husband.\u2014The times\nof corruption are the seasons when the apples fall from the tree: I\nmean the individuals, the seed-bearers of the future, the pioneers of\nthe spiritual colonisation and of a new construction of national and\nsocial unions. Corruption is only an abusive term for the _harvest\ntime_ of a people.\n\n\n 24.\n\n_Different Dissatisfactions._\u2014The feeble and as it were feminine\ndissatisfied people have ingenuity for beautifying and deepening life;\nthe strong dissatisfied people\u2014the masculine persons among them, to\ncontinue the metaphor\u2014have the ingenuity for improving and safeguarding\nlife. The former show their weakness and feminine character by willingly\nletting themselves be temporarily deceived, and perhaps even by putting\nup with a little ecstasy and enthusiasm on a time, but on the whole they\nare never to be satisfied, and suffer from the incurability of their\ndissatisfaction; moreover they are the patrons of all those who manage\nto concoct opiate and narcotic comforts, and just on that account averse\nto those who value the physician higher than the priest,\u2014they thereby\nencourage the _continuance_ of actual distress! If there had not been a\nsurplus of dissatisfied persons of this kind in Europe since the time of\nthe Middle Ages, the remarkable capacity of Europeans for constant\n_transformation_ would perhaps not have originated at all; for the\nclaims of the strong dissatisfied persons are too gross, and really too\nmodest to resist being finally quieted down. China is an instance of a\ncountry in which dissatisfaction on a grand scale and the capacity for\ntransformation have died out for many centuries; and the Socialists and\nstate-idolaters of Europe could easily bring things to Chinese\nconditions and to a Chinese \"happiness,\" with their measures for the\namelioration and security of life, provided that they could first of all\nroot out the sicklier, tenderer, more feminine dissatisfaction and\nRomanticism which are still very abundant among us. Europe is an invalid\nwho owes her best thanks to her incurability and the eternal\ntransformations of her sufferings; these constant new situations, these\nequally constant new dangers, pains, and make-shifts, have at last\ngenerated an intellectual sensitiveness which is almost equal to genius,\nand is in any case the mother of all genius.\n\n\n 25.\n\n_Not Pre-ordained to Knowledge._\u2014There is a purblind humility not at all\nrare, and when a person is afflicted with it, he is once for all\nunqualified for being a disciple of knowledge. It is this in fact: the\nmoment a man of this kind perceives anything striking, he turns as it\nwere on his heel, and says to himself: \"You have deceived yourself!\nWhere have your wits been! This cannot be the truth!\"\u2014and then, instead\nof looking at it and listening to it with more attention, he runs out of\nthe way of the striking object as if intimidated, and seeks to get it\nout of his head as quickly as possible. For his fundamental rule runs\nthus: \"I want to see nothing that contradicts the usual opinion\nconcerning things! Am _I_ created for the purpose of discovering new\ntruths? There are already too many of the old ones.\"\n\n\n 26.\n\n_What is Living?_\u2014Living\u2014that is to continually eliminate from ourselves\nwhat is about to die; Living\u2014that is to be cruel and inexorable towards\nall that becomes weak and old in ourselves, and not only in ourselves.\nLiving\u2014that means, therefore, to be without piety toward the dying, the\nwretched and the old? To be continually a murderer?\u2014And yet old Moses\nsaid: \"Thou shalt not kill!\"\n\n\n 27.\n\n_The Self-Renouncer._\u2014What does the self-renouncer do? He strives after\na higher world, he wants to fly longer and further and higher than all\nmen of affirmation\u2014he _throws away many things_ that would burden his\nflight, and several things among them that are not valueless, that are\nnot unpleasant to him: he sacrifices them to his desire for elevation.\nNow this sacrificing, this casting away, is the very thing which becomes\nvisible in him: on that account one calls him the self-renouncer, and as\nsuch he stands before us, enveloped in his cowl, and as the soul of a\nhair-shirt. With this effect, however, which he makes upon us he is well\ncontent: he wants to keep concealed from us his desire, his pride, his\nintention of flying _above_ us.\u2014Yes! He is wiser than we thought, and so\ncourteous towards us\u2014this affirmer! For that is what he is, like us,\neven in his self-renunciation.\n\n\n 28.\n\n_Injuring with one's best Qualities._\u2014Our strong points sometimes drive\nus so far forward that we cannot any longer endure our weaknesses, and\nwe perish by them: we also perhaps see this result beforehand, but\nnevertheless do not want it to be otherwise. We then become hard towards\nthat which would fain be spared in us, and our pitilessness is also our\ngreatness. Such an experience, which must in the end cost us our life,\nis a symbol of the collective effect of great men upon others and upon\ntheir epoch:\u2014it is just with their best abilities, with that which only\n_they_ can do, that they destroy much that is weak, uncertain, evolving,\nand _willing_, and are thereby injurious. Indeed, the case may happen in\nwhich, taken on the whole, they only do injury, because their best is\naccepted and drunk up as it were solely by those who lose their\nunderstanding and their egoism by it, as by too strong a beverage; they\nbecome so intoxicated that they go breaking their limbs on all the wrong\nroads where their drunkenness drives them.\n\n\n 29.\n\n_Adventitious Liars._\u2014When people began to combat the unity of Aristotle\nin France, and consequently also to defend it, there was once more to be\nseen that which has been seen so often, but seen so unwillingly:\u2014_people\nimposed false reasons on themselves_ on account of which those laws\nought to exist, merely for the sake of not acknowledging to themselves\nthat they had _accustomed_ themselves to the authority of those laws,\nand did not want any longer to have things otherwise. And people do so\nin every prevailing morality and religion, and have always done so: the\nreasons and intentions behind the habit, are only added surreptitiously\nwhen people begin to combat the habit, and _ask_ for reasons and\nintentions. It is here that the great dishonesty of the conservatives of\nall times hides:\u2014they are adventitious liars.\n\n\n 30.\n\n_The Comedy of Celebrated Men._\u2014Celebrated men who _need_ their fame,\nas, for instance, all politicians, no longer select their associates and\nfriends without after-thoughts: from the one they want a portion of the\nsplendour and reflection of his virtues; from the other they want the\nfear-inspiring power of certain dubious qualities in him, of which\neverybody is aware; from another they steal his reputation for idleness\nand basking in the sun, because it is advantageous for their own ends to\nbe regarded temporarily as heedless and lazy:\u2014it conceals the fact that\nthey lie in ambush; they now use the visionaries, now the experts, now\nthe brooders, now the pedants in their neighbourhood, as their actual\nselves for the time, but very soon they do not need them any longer! And\nthus while their environment and outside die off continually, everything\nseems to crowd into this environment, and wants to become a \"character\"\nof it; they are like great cities in this respect. Their repute is\ncontinually in process of mutation, like their character, for their\nchanging methods require this change, and they show and _exhibit_\nsometimes this and sometimes that actual or fictitious quality on the\nstage; their friends and associates, as we have said, belong to these\nstage properties. On the other hand, that which they aim at must remain\nso much the more steadfast, and burnished and resplendent in the\ndistance,\u2014and this also sometimes needs its comedy and its stage-play.\n\n\n 31.\n\n_Commerce and Nobility._\u2014Buying and selling is now regarded as something\nordinary, like the art of reading and writing; everyone is now trained\nto it even when he is not a tradesman, exercising himself daily in the\nart; precisely as formerly in the period of uncivilised humanity,\neveryone was a hunter and exercised himself day by day in the art of\nhunting. Hunting was then something common: but just as this finally\nbecame a privilege of the powerful and noble, and thereby lost the\ncharacter of the commonplace and the ordinary\u2014by ceasing to be necessary\nand by becoming an affair of fancy and luxury:\u2014so it might become the\nsame some day with buying and selling. Conditions of society are\nimaginable in which there will be no selling and buying, and in which\nthe necessity for this art will become quite lost; perhaps it may then\nhappen that individuals who are less subjected to the law of the\nprevailing condition of things will indulge in buying and selling as a\n_luxury of sentiment_. It is then only that commerce would acquire\nnobility, and the noble would then perhaps occupy themselves just as\nreadily with commerce as they have done hitherto with war and politics:\nwhile on the other hand the valuation of politics might then have\nentirely altered. Already even politics ceases to be the business of a\ngentleman; and it is possible that one day it may be found to be so\nvulgar as to be brought, like all party literature and daily literature,\nunder the rubric: \"Prostitution of the intellect.\"\n\n\n 32.\n\n_Undesirable Disciples._\u2014What shall I do with these two youths! called\nout a philosopher dejectedly, who \"corrupted\" youths, as Socrates had\nonce corrupted them,\u2014they are unwelcome disciples to me. One of them\ncannot say \"Nay,\" and the other says \"Half and half\" to everything.\nProvided they grasped my doctrine, the former would _suffer_ too much,\nfor my mode of thinking requires a martial soul, willingness to cause\npain, delight in denying, and a hard skin,\u2014he would succumb by open\nwounds and internal injuries. And the other will choose the mediocre in\neverything he represents, and thus make a mediocrity of the whole,\u2014I\nshould like my enemy to have such a disciple.\n\n\n 33.\n\n_Outside the Lecture-room._\u2014\"In order to prove that man after all\nbelongs to the good-natured animals, I would remind you how credulous he\nhas been for so long a time. It is now only, quite late, and after an\nimmense self-conquest, that he has become a _distrustful_ animal,\u2014yes!\nman is now more wicked than ever.\"\u2014I do not understand this; why should\nman now be more distrustful and more wicked?\u2014\"Because he now has\nscience,\u2014because he needs to have it!\"\u2014\n\n\n 34.\n\n_Historia abscondita._\u2014Every great man has a power which operates\nbackward; all history is again placed on the scales on his account, and\na thousand secrets of the past crawl out of their lurking-places\u2014into\n_his_ sunlight. There is absolutely no knowing what history may be some\nday. The past is still perhaps undiscovered in its essence! There are\nyet so many retroactive powers needed!\n\n\n 35.\n\n_Heresy and Witchcraft._\u2014To think otherwise than is customary\u2014that is by\nno means so much the activity of a better intellect, as the activity of\nstrong, wicked inclinations,\u2014severing, isolating, refractory,\nmischief-loving, malicious inclinations. Heresy is the counterpart of\nwitchcraft, and is certainly just as little a merely harmless affair, or\na thing worthy of honour in itself. Heretics and sorcerers are two kinds\nof bad men; they have it in common that they also feel themselves\nwicked; their unconquerable delight is to attack and injure whatever\nrules,\u2014whether it be men or opinions. The Reformation, a kind of\nduplication of the spirit of the Middle Ages at a time when it had no\nlonger a good conscience, produced both of these kinds of people in the\ngreatest profusion.\n\n\n 36.\n\n_Last Words._\u2014It will be recollected that the Emperor Augustus, that\nterrible man, who had himself as much in his own power, and who could be\nsilent as well as any wise Socrates, became indiscreet about himself in\nhis last words; for the first time he let his mask fall, when he gave to\nunderstand that he had carried a mask and played a comedy,\u2014he had played\nthe father of his country and wisdom on the throne well, even to the\npoint of illusion! _Plaudite amici, comoedia finita est!_\u2014The thought of\nthe dying Nero: _qualis artifex pereo!_ was also the thought of the\ndying Augustus: histrionic conceit! histrionic loquacity! And the very\ncounterpart to the dying Socrates!\u2014But Tiberius died silently, that most\ntortured of all self-torturers,\u2014_he_ was _genuine_ and not a\nstage-player! What may have passed through his head in the end! Perhaps\nthis: \"Life\u2014that is a long death. I am a fool, who shortened the lives\nof so many! Was _I_ created for the purpose of being a benefactor? I\nshould have given them eternal life: and then I could have _seen them\ndying_ eternally. I had such good eyes _for that_: _qualis spectator\npereo!_\" When he seemed once more to regain his powers after a long\ndeath-struggle, it was considered advisable to smother him with\npillows,\u2014he died a double death.\n\n\n 37.\n\n_Owing to three Errors._\u2014Science has been furthered during recent\ncenturies, partly because it was hoped that God's goodness and wisdom\nwould be best understood therewith and thereby\u2014the principal motive in\nthe soul of great Englishmen (like Newton); partly because the absolute\nutility of knowledge was believed in, and especially the most intimate\nconnection of morality, knowledge, and happiness\u2014the principal motive in\nthe soul of great Frenchmen (like Voltaire); and partly because it was\nthought that in science there was something unselfish, harmless,\nself-sufficing, lovable, and truly innocent to be had, in which the evil\nhuman impulses did not at all participate\u2014the principal motive in the\nsoul of Spinoza, who felt himself divine, as a knowing being:\u2014it is\nconsequently owing to three errors that science has been furthered.\n\n\n 38.\n\n_Explosive People._\u2014When one considers how ready are the forces of young\nmen for discharge, one does not wonder at seeing them decide so\nunfastidiously and with so little selection for this or that cause:\n_that_ which attracts them is the sight of eagerness about any cause, as\nit were the sight of the burning match\u2014not the cause itself. The more\ningenious seducers on that account operate by holding out the prospect\nof an explosion to such persons, and do not urge their cause by means of\nreasons; these powder-barrels are not won over by means of reasons!\n\n\n 39.\n\n_Altered Taste._\u2014The alteration of the general taste is more important\nthan the alteration of opinions; opinions, with all their proving,\nrefuting, and intellectual masquerade, are merely symptoms of altered\ntaste, and are certainly _not_ what they are still so often claimed to\nbe, the causes of the altered taste. How does the general taste alter?\nBy the fact of individuals, the powerful and influential persons,\nexpressing and tyrannically enforcing without any feeling of shame,\n_their_ _hoc est ridiculum, hoc est absurdum_; the decisions, therefore,\nof their taste and their disrelish:\u2014they thereby lay a constraint upon\nmany people, out of which there gradually grows a habituation for still\nmore, and finally a _necessity for all_. The fact, however, that these\nindividuals feel and \"taste\" differently, has usually its origin in a\npeculiarity of their mode of life, nourishment, or digestion, perhaps in\na surplus or deficiency of the inorganic salts in their blood and brain,\nin short in their _physis_; they have, however, the courage to avow\ntheir physical constitution, and to lend an ear even to the most\ndelicate tones of its requirements: their \u00e6sthetic and moral judgments\nare those \"most delicate tones\" of their _physis_.\n\n\n 40.\n\n_The Lack of a noble Presence._\u2014Soldiers and their leaders have always a\nmuch higher mode of comportment toward one another than workmen and\ntheir employers. At present at least, all militarily established\ncivilisation still stands high above all so-called industrial\ncivilisation; the latter, in its present form, is in general the meanest\nmode of existence that has ever been. It is simply the law of necessity\nthat operates here: people want to live, and have to sell themselves;\nbut they despise him who exploits their necessity, and _purchases_ the\nworkman. It is curious that the subjection to powerful, fear-inspiring,\nand even dreadful individuals, to tyrants and leaders of armies, is not\nat all felt so painfully as the subjection to such undistinguished and\nuninteresting persons as the captains of industry; in the employer the\nworkman usually sees merely a crafty, blood-sucking dog of a man,\nspeculating on every necessity, whose name, form, character, and\nreputation are altogether indifferent to him. It is probable that the\nmanufacturers and great magnates of commerce have hitherto lacked too\nmuch all those forms and attributes of a _superior race_, which alone\nmake persons interesting; if they had had the nobility of the nobly-born\nin their looks and bearing, there would perhaps have been no socialism\nin the masses of the people. For these are really ready for _slavery_ of\nevery kind, provided that the superior class above them constantly shows\nitself legitimately superior, and _born_ to command\u2014by its noble\npresence! The commonest man feels that nobility is not to be improvised,\nand that it is his part to honour it as the fruit of protracted\nrace-culture,\u2014but the absence of superior presence, and the notorious\nvulgarity of manufacturers with red, fat hands, brings up the thought to\nhim that it is only chance and fortune that has here elevated the one\nabove the other; well then\u2014so he reasons with himself\u2014let _us_ in our\nturn tempt chance and fortune! Let us in our turn throw the dice!\u2014and\nsocialism commences.\n\n\n 41.\n\n_Against Remorse._\u2014The thinker sees in his own actions attempts and\nquestionings to obtain information about something or other; success and\nfailure are _answers_ to him first and foremost. To vex himself,\nhowever, because something does not succeed, or to feel remorse at\nall\u2014he leaves that to those who act because they are commanded to do so,\nand expect to get a beating when their gracious master is not satisfied\nwith the result.\n\n\n 42.\n\n_Work and Ennui._\u2014In respect to seeking work for the sake of the pay,\nalmost all men are alike at present in civilised countries; to all of\nthem work is a means, and not itself the end; on which account they are\nnot very select in the choice of the work, provided it yields an\nabundant profit. But still there are rarer men who would rather perish\nthan work without _delight_ in their labour: the fastidious people,\ndifficult to satisfy, whose object is not served by an abundant profit,\nunless the work itself be the reward of all rewards. Artists and\ncontemplative men of all kinds belong to this rare species of human\nbeings; and also the idlers who spend their life in hunting and\ntravelling, or in love affairs and adventures. They all seek toil and\ntrouble in so far as these are associated with pleasure, and they want\nthe severest and hardest labour, if it be necessary. In other respects,\nhowever, they have a resolute indolence, even should impoverishment,\ndishonour, and danger to health and life be associated therewith. They\nare not so much afraid of ennui as of labour without pleasure; indeed\nthey require much ennui, if _their_ work is to succeed with them. For\nthe thinker and for all inventive spirits ennui is the unpleasant \"calm\"\nof the soul which precedes the happy voyage and the dancing breezes; he\nmust endure it, he must _await_ the effect it has on him:\u2014it is\nprecisely _this_ which lesser natures cannot at all experience! It is\ncommon to scare away ennui in every way, just as it is common to labour\nwithout pleasure. It perhaps distinguishes the Asiatics above the\nEuropeans, that they are capable of a longer and profounder repose; even\ntheir narcotics operate slowly and require patience, in contrast to the\nobnoxious suddenness of the European poison, alcohol.\n\n\n 43.\n\n_What the Laws Betray._\u2014One makes a great mistake when one studies the\npenal laws of a people, as if they were an expression of its character;\nthe laws do not betray what a people is, but what appears to them\nforeign, strange, monstrous, and outlandish. The laws concern themselves\nwith the exceptions to the morality of custom; and the severest\npunishments fall on acts which conform to the customs of the\nneighbouring peoples. Thus among the Wahabites, there are only two\nmortal sins: having another God than the Wahabite God, and\u2014smoking (it\nis designated by them as \"the disgraceful kind of drinking\"). \"And how\nis it with regard to murder and adultery?\"\u2014asked the Englishman with\nastonishment on learning these things. \"Well, God is gracious and\npitiful!\" answered the old chief.\u2014Thus among the ancient Romans there\nwas the idea that a woman could only sin mortally in two ways: by\nadultery on the one hand, and\u2014by wine-drinking on the other. Old Cato\npretended that kissing among relatives had only been made a custom in\norder to keep women in control on this point; a kiss meant: did her\nbreath smell of wine? Wives had actually been punished by death who were\nsurprised taking wine: and certainly not merely because women under the\ninfluence of wine sometimes unlearn altogether the art of saying No; the\nRomans were afraid above all things of the orgiastic and Dionysian\nspirit with which the women of Southern Europe at that time (when wine\nwas still new in Europe) were sometimes visited, as by a monstrous\nforeignness which subverted the basis of Roman sentiments; it seemed to\nthem treason against Rome, as the embodiment of foreignness.\n\n\n 44.\n\n_The Believed Motive._\u2014However important it may be to know the motives\naccording to which mankind has really acted hitherto, perhaps the\n_belief_ in this or that motive, and therefore that which mankind has\nassumed and imagined to be the actual mainspring of its activity\nhitherto, is something still more essential for the thinker to know. For\nthe internal happiness and misery of men have always come to them\nthrough their belief in this or that motive,\u2014_not_ however, through that\nwhich was actually the motive! All about the latter has an interest of\nsecondary rank.\n\n\n 45.\n\n_Epicurus._\u2014Yes, I am proud of perceiving the character of Epicurus\ndifferently from anyone else perhaps, and of enjoying the happiness of\nthe afternoon of antiquity in all that I hear and read of him:\u2014I see his\neye gazing out on a broad whitish sea, over the shore-rocks on which the\nsunshine rests, while great and small creatures play in its light,\nsecure and calm like this light and that eye itself. Such happiness\ncould only have been devised by a chronic sufferer, the happiness of an\neye before which the sea of existence has become calm, and which can no\nlonger tire of gazing at the surface and at the variegated, tender,\ntremulous skin of this sea. Never previously was there such a moderation\nof voluptuousness.\n\n\n 46.\n\n_Our Astonishment._\u2014There is a profound and fundamental satisfaction in\nthe fact that science ascertains things that _hold their ground_, and\nagain furnish the basis for new researches:\u2014it could certainly be\notherwise. Indeed, we are so much convinced of all the uncertainty and\ncaprice of our judgments, and of the everlasting change of all human\nlaws and conceptions, that we are really astonished _how persistently_\nthe results of science hold their ground! In earlier times people knew\nnothing of this changeability of all human things; the custom of\nmorality maintained the belief that the whole inner life of man was\nbound to iron necessity by eternal fetters:\u2014perhaps people then felt a\nsimilar voluptuousness of astonishment when they listened to tales and\nfairy stories. The wonderful did so much good to those men, who might\nwell get tired sometimes of the regular and the eternal. To leave the\nground for once! To soar! To stray! To be mad!\u2014that belonged to the\nparadise and the revelry of earlier times; while our felicity is like\nthat of the shipwrecked man who has gone ashore, and places himself with\nboth feet on the old, firm ground\u2014in astonishment that it does not rock.\n\n\n 47.\n\n_The Suppression of the Passions._\u2014When one continually prohibits the\nexpression of the passions as something to be left to the \"vulgar,\" to\ncoarser, bourgeois, and peasant natures\u2014that is, when one does not want\nto suppress the passions themselves, but only their language and\ndemeanour, one nevertheless realises _therewith_ just what one does not\nwant: the suppression of the passions themselves, or at least their\nweakening and alteration,\u2014as the court of Louis XIV. (to cite the most\ninstructive instance), and all that was dependent on it, experienced.\nThe generation _that followed_, trained in suppressing their expression,\nno longer possessed the passions themselves, but had a pleasant,\nsuperficial, playful disposition in their place,\u2014a generation which was\nso permeated with the incapacity to be ill-mannered, that even an injury\nwas not taken and retaliated, except with courteous words. Perhaps our\nown time furnishes the most remarkable counterpart to this period: I see\neverywhere (in life, in the theatre, and not least in all that is\nwritten) satisfaction at all the _coarser_ outbursts and gestures of\npassion; a certain convention of passionateness is now desired,\u2014only not\nthe passion itself! Nevertheless _it_ will thereby be at last reached,\nand our posterity will have a _genuine savagery_, and not merely a\nformal savagery and unmannerliness.\n\n\n 48.\n\n_Knowledge of Distress._\u2014Perhaps there is nothing by which men and\nperiods are so much separated from one another, as by the different\ndegrees of knowledge of distress which they possess; distress of the\nsoul as well as of the body. With respect to the latter, owing to lack\nof sufficient self-experience, we men of the present day (in spite of\nour deficiencies and infirmities), are perhaps all of us blunderers and\nvisionaries in comparison with the men of the age of fear\u2014the longest of\nall ages,\u2014when the individual had to protect himself against violence,\nand for that purpose had to be a man of violence himself. At that time a\nman went through a long schooling of corporeal tortures and privations,\nand found even in a certain kind of cruelty toward himself, in a\nvoluntary use of pain, a necessary means for his preservation; at that\ntime a person trained his environment to the endurance of pain; at that\ntime a person willingly inflicted pain, and saw the most frightful\nthings of this kind happen to others, without having any other feeling\nthan for his own security. As regards the distress of the soul, however,\nI now look at every man with respect to whether he knows it by\nexperience or by description; whether he still regards it as necessary\nto simulate this knowledge, perhaps as an indication of more refined\nculture; or whether, at the bottom of his heart, he does not at all\nbelieve in great sorrows of soul, and at the naming of them has in his\nmind a similar experience as at the naming of great corporeal\nsufferings, such as tooth-aches, and stomach-aches. It is thus, however,\nthat it seems to be with most people at present. Owing to the universal\ninexperience of both kinds of pain, and the comparative rarity of the\nspectacle of a sufferer, an important consequence results: people now\nhate pain far more than earlier man did, and calumniate it worse than\never; indeed people nowadays can hardly endure the _thought_ of pain,\nand make out of it an affair of conscience and a reproach to collective\nexistence. The appearance of pessimistic philosophies is not at all the\nsign of great and dreadful miseries; for these interrogative marks\nregarding the worth of life appear in periods when the refinement and\nalleviation of existence already deem the unavoidable gnat-stings of the\nsoul and body as altogether too bloody and wicked; and in the poverty of\nactual experiences of pain, would now like to make _painful general\nideas_ appear as suffering of the worst kind.\u2014There might indeed be a\nremedy for pessimistic philosophies and the excessive sensibility which\nseems to me the real \"distress of the present\":\u2014but perhaps this remedy\nalready sounds too cruel, and would itself be reckoned among the\nsymptoms owing to which people at present conclude that \"existence is\nsomething evil.\" Well! the remedy for \"the distress\" is _distress_.\n\n\n 49.\n\n_Magnanimity and allied Qualities._\u2014Those paradoxical phenomena, such as\nthe sudden coldness in the demeanour of good-natured men, the humour of\nthe melancholy, and above all _magnanimity_, as a sudden renunciation of\nrevenge or of the gratification of envy\u2014appear in men in whom there is a\npowerful inner impulsiveness, in men of sudden satiety and sudden\ndisgust. Their satisfactions are so rapid and violent that satiety,\naversion, and flight into the antithetical taste, immediately follow\nupon them: in this contrast the convulsion of feeling liberates itself,\nin one person by sudden coldness, in another by laughter, and in a third\nby tears and self-sacrifice. The magnanimous person appears to me\u2014at\nleast that kind of magnanimous person who has always made most\nimpression\u2014as a man with the strongest thirst for vengeance, to whom a\ngratification presents itself close at hand, and who _already_ drinks it\noff _in imagination_ so copiously, thoroughly, and to the last drop,\nthat an excessive, rapid disgust follows this rapid licentiousness;\u2014he\nnow elevates himself \"above himself,\" as one says, and forgives his\nenemy, yea, blesses and honours him. With this violence done to himself,\nhowever, with this mockery of his impulse to revenge, even still so\npowerful, he merely yields to the new impulse, the disgust which has\nbecome powerful, and does this just as impatiently and licentiously, as\na short time previously he _forestalled_, and as it were exhausted, the\njoy of revenge with his fantasy. In magnanimity there is the same amount\nof egoism as in revenge, but a different quality of egoism.\n\n\n 50.\n\n_The Argument of Isolation._\u2014The reproach of conscience, even in the\nmost conscientious, is weak against the feeling: \"This and that are\ncontrary to the good morals of _your_ society.\" A cold glance or a wry\nmouth, on the part of those among whom and for whom one has been\neducated, is still _feared_ even by the strongest. What is really feared\nthere? Isolation! as the argument which demolishes even the best\narguments for a person or cause!\u2014It is thus that the gregarious instinct\nspeaks in us.\n\n\n 51.\n\n_Sense for Truth._\u2014Commend me to all scepticism where I am permitted to\nanswer: \"Let us put it to the test!\" But I don't wish to hear anything\nmore of things and questions which do not admit of being tested. That is\nthe limit of my \"sense for truth\": for bravery has there lost its right.\n\n\n 52.\n\n_What others Know of us._\u2014That which we know of ourselves and have in\nour memory is not so decisive for the happiness of our life as is\ngenerally believed. One day it flashes upon our mind what _others_ know\nof us (or think they know)\u2014and then we acknowledge that it is the more\npowerful. We get on with our bad conscience more easily than with our\nbad reputation.\n\n\n 53.\n\n_Where Goodness Begins._\u2014Where bad eyesight can no longer see the evil\nimpulse as such, on account of its refinement,\u2014there man sets up the\nkingdom of goodness; and the feeling of having now gone over into the\nkingdom of goodness brings all those impulses (such as the feelings of\nsecurity, of comfortableness, of benevolence) into simultaneous\nactivity, which were threatened and confined by the evil impulses.\nConsequently, the duller the eye so much the further does goodness\nextend! Hence the eternal cheerfulness of the populace and of children!\nHence the gloominess and grief (allied to the bad conscience) of great\nthinkers.\n\n\n 54.\n\n_The Consciousness of Appearance._\u2014How wonderfully and novelly, and at\nthe same time how awfully and ironically, do I feel myself situated with\nrespect to collective existence, with my knowledge! I have _discovered_\nfor myself that the old humanity and animality, yea, the collective\nprimeval age, and the past of all sentient being, continues to meditate,\nlove, hate, and reason in me,\u2014I have suddenly awoke in the midst of this\ndream, but merely to the consciousness that I just dream, and that I\n_must_ dream on in order not to perish; just as the sleep-walker must\ndream on in order not to tumble down. What is it that is now\n\"appearance\" to me! Verily, not the antithesis of any kind of\nessence,\u2014what knowledge can I assert of any kind of essence whatsoever,\nexcept merely the predicates of its appearance! Verily not a dead mask\nwhich one could put upon an unknown X, and which to be sure one could\nalso remove! Appearance is for me the operating and living thing itself;\nwhich goes so far in its self-mockery as to make me feel that here there\nis appearance, and Will o' the Wisp, and spirit-dance, and nothing\nmore,\u2014that among all these dreamers, I also, the \"thinker,\" dance my\ndance, that the thinker is a means of prolonging further the terrestrial\ndance, and in so far is one of the masters of ceremony of existence, and\nthat the sublime consistency and connectedness of all branches of\nknowledge is perhaps, and will perhaps, be the best means for\n_maintaining_ the universality of the dreaming, the complete, mutual\nunderstandability of all those dreamers, and thereby _the duration of\nthe dream_.\n\n\n 55.\n\n_The Ultimate Nobility of Character._\u2014What then makes a person \"noble\"?\nCertainly not that he makes sacrifices; even the frantic libertine makes\nsacrifices. Certainly not that he generally follows his passions; there\nare contemptible passions. Certainly not that he does something for\nothers and without selfishness; perhaps the effect of selfishness is\nprecisely at its greatest in the noblest persons.\u2014But that the passion\nwhich seizes the noble man is a peculiarity, without his knowing that it\nis so: the use of a rare and singular measuring-rod, almost a frenzy:\nthe feeling of heat in things which feel cold to all other persons: a\ndivining of values for which scales have not yet been invented: a\nsacrificing on altars which are consecrated to an unknown God: a bravery\nwithout the desire for honour: a self-sufficiency which has\nsuperabundance, and imparts to men and things. Hitherto, therefore, it\nhas been the rare in man, and the unconsciousness of this rareness, that\nhas made men noble. Here, however, let us consider that everything\nordinary, immediate, and indispensable, in short, what has been most\npreservative of the species, and generally the _rule_ in mankind\nhitherto, has been judged unreasonable and calumniated in its entirety\nby this standard, in favour of the exceptions. To become the advocate of\nthe rule\u2014that may perhaps be the ultimate form and refinement in which\nnobility of character will reveal itself on earth.\n\n\n 56.\n\n_The Desire for Suffering._\u2014When I think of the desire to do something,\nhow it continually tickles and stimulates millions of young Europeans,\nwho cannot endure themselves and all their ennui,\u2014I conceive that there\nmust be a desire in them to suffer something, in order to derive from\ntheir suffering a worthy motive for acting, for doing something.\nDistress is necessary! Hence the cry of the politicians, hence the many\nfalse, trumped-up, exaggerated \"states of distress\" of all possible\nkinds, and the blind readiness to believe in them. This young world\ndesires that there should arrive or appear _from the outside_\u2014not\nhappiness\u2014but misfortune; and their imagination is already busy\nbeforehand to form a monster out of it, so that they may afterwards be\nable to fight with a monster. If these distress-seekers felt the power\nto benefit themselves, to do something for themselves from internal\nsources, they would also understand how to create a distress of their\nown, specially their own, from internal sources. Their inventions might\nthen be more refined, and their gratifications might sound like good\nmusic: while at present they fill the world with their cries of\ndistress, and consequently too often with the _feeling of distress_ in\nthe first place! They do not know what to make of themselves\u2014and so they\npaint the misfortune of others on the wall; they always need others! And\nalways again other others!\u2014Pardon me, my friends, I have ventured to\npaint my _happiness_ on the wall.\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 7:\n\n Allusions to the song of Clara in Goethe's \"Egmont.\"\u2014TR.\n\n\n\n\n BOOK SECOND\n\n\n 57.\n\n_To the Realists._\u2014Ye sober beings, who feel yourselves armed against\npassion and fantasy, and would gladly make a pride and an ornament out\nof your emptiness, ye call yourselves realists and give to understand\nthat the world is actually constituted as it appears to you; before you\nalone reality stands unveiled, and ye yourselves would perhaps be the\nbest part of it,\u2014oh, ye dear images of Sais! But are not ye also in your\nunveiled condition still extremely passionate and dusky beings compared\nwith the fish, and still all too like an enamoured artist?[8]\u2014and what\nis \"reality\" to an enamoured artist! Ye still carry about with you the\nvaluations of things which had their origin in the passions and\ninfatuations of earlier centuries! There is still a secret and\nineffaceable drunkenness embodied in your sobriety! Your love of\n\"reality,\" for example\u2014oh, that is an old, primitive \"love\"! In every\nfeeling, in every sense-impression, there is a portion of this old love:\nand similarly also some kind of fantasy, prejudice, irrationality,\nignorance, fear, and whatever else has become mingled and woven into it.\nThere is that mountain! There is that cloud! What is \"real\" in them?\nRemove the phantasm and the whole human _element_ therefrom, ye sober\nones! Yes, if ye could do _that_! If ye could forget your origin, your\npast, your preparatory schooling,\u2014your whole history as man and beast!\nThere is no \"reality\" for us\u2014nor for you either, ye sober ones,\u2014we are\nfar from being so alien to one another as ye suppose, and perhaps our\ngood-will to get beyond drunkenness is just as respectable as your\nbelief that ye are altogether _incapable_ of drunkenness.\n\n\n 58.\n\n_Only as Creators!_\u2014It has caused me the greatest trouble, and for ever\ncauses me the greatest trouble, to perceive that unspeakably more\ndepends upon _what things are called_, than on what they are. The\nreputation, the name and appearance, the importance, the usual measure\nand weight of things\u2014each being in origin most frequently an error and\narbitrariness thrown over the things like a garment, and quite alien to\ntheir essence and even to their exterior\u2014have gradually, by the belief\ntherein and its continuous growth from generation to generation, grown\nas it were on-and-into things and become their very body; the appearance\nat the very beginning becomes almost always the essence in the end, and\n_operates_ as the essence! What a fool he would be who would think it\nenough to refer here to this origin and this nebulous veil of illusion,\nin order to _annihilate_ that which virtually passes for the\nworld\u2014namely, so-called \"reality\"! It is only as creators that we can\nannihilate!\u2014But let us not forget this: it suffices to create new names\nand valuations and probabilities, in order in the long run to create new\n\"things.\"\n\n\n 59.\n\n_We Artists!_\u2014When we love a woman we have readily a hatred against\nnature, on recollecting all the disagreeable natural functions to which\nevery woman is subject; we prefer not to think of them at all, but if\nonce our soul touches on these things it twitches impatiently, and\nglances, as we have said, contemptuously at nature:\u2014we are hurt; nature\nseems to encroach upon our possessions, and with the profanest hands. We\nthen shut our ears against all physiology, and we decree in secret that\n\"we will hear nothing of the fact that man is something else than _soul\nand form_!\" \"The man under the skin\" is an abomination and monstrosity,\na blasphemy of God and of love to all lovers.\u2014Well, just as the lover\nstill feels with respect to nature and natural functions, so did every\nworshipper of God and his \"holy omnipotence\" formerly feel: in all that\nwas said of nature by astronomers, geologists, physiologists, and\nphysicians, he saw an encroachment on his most precious possession, and\nconsequently an attack,\u2014and moreover also an impertinence of the\nassailant! The \"law of nature\" sounded to him as blasphemy against God;\nin truth he would too willingly have seen the whole of mechanics traced\nback to moral acts of volition and arbitrariness:\u2014but because nobody\ncould render him this service, he _concealed_ nature and mechanism from\nhimself as best he could, and lived in a dream. Oh, those men of former\ntimes understood how to _dream_, and did not need first to go to\nsleep!\u2014and we men of the present day also still understand it too well,\nwith all our good-will for wakefulness and daylight! It suffices to\nlove, to hate, to desire, and in general to feel,\u2014_immediately_ the\nspirit and the power of the dream come over us, and we ascend, with open\neyes and indifferent to all danger, the most dangerous paths, to the\nroofs and towers of fantasy, and without any giddiness, as persons born\nfor climbing\u2014we the night-walkers by day! We artists! We concealers of\nnaturalness! We moon-struck and God-struck ones! We dead-silent,\nuntiring wanderers on heights which we do not see as heights, but as our\nplains, as our places of safety!\n\n\n 60.\n\n_Women and their Effect in the Distance._\u2014Have I still ears? Am I only\near, and nothing else besides? Here I stand in the midst of the surging\nof the breakers, whose white flames fork up to my feet;\u2014from all sides\nthere is howling, threatening, crying, and screaming at me, while in the\nlowest depths the old earth-shaker sings his aria, hollow like a roaring\nbull; he beats such an earth-shaker's measure thereto, that even the\nhearts of these weathered rock-monsters tremble at the sound. Then,\nsuddenly, as if born out of nothingness, there appears before the portal\nof this hellish labyrinth, only a few fathoms distant,\u2014a great\nsailing-ship gliding silently along like a ghost. Oh, this ghostly\nbeauty! With what enchantment it seizes me! What? Has all the repose and\nsilence in the world embarked here? Does my happiness itself sit in this\nquiet place, my happier ego, my second immortalised self? Still not\ndead, yet also no longer living? As a ghost-like, calm, gazing, gliding,\nsweeping, neutral being? Similar to the ship, which, with its white\nsails, like an immense butterfly, passes over the dark sea! Yes! Passing\n_over_ existence! That is it! That would be it!\u2014\u2014It seems that the noise\nhere has made me a visionary? All great noise causes one to place\nhappiness in the calm and the distance. When a man is in the midst of\n_his_ hubbub, in the midst of the breakers of his plots and plans, he\nthere sees perhaps calm, enchanting beings glide past him, for whose\nhappiness and retirement he longs\u2014_they are women_. He almost thinks\nthat there with the women dwells his better self; that in these calm\nplaces even the loudest breakers become still as death, and life itself\na dream of life. But still! But still! My noble enthusiast, there is\nalso in the most beautiful sailing-ship so much noise and bustling, and\nalas, so much petty, pitiable bustling! The enchantment and the most\npowerful effect of women is, to use the language of philosophers, an\neffect at a distance, an _actio in distans_; there belongs thereto,\nhowever, primarily and above all,\u2014_distance_!\n\n\n 61.\n\n_In Honour of Friendship._\u2014That the sentiment of friendship was regarded\nby antiquity as the highest sentiment, higher even than the most vaunted\npride of the self-sufficient and wise, yea as it were its sole and still\nholier brotherhood, is very well expressed by the story of the\nMacedonian king who made the present of a talent to a cynical Athenian\nphilosopher from whom he received it back again. \"What?\" said the king,\n\"has he then no friend?\" He therewith meant to say, \"I honour this pride\nof the wise and independent man, but I should have honoured his humanity\nstill higher if the friend in him had gained the victory over his pride.\nThe philosopher has lowered himself in my estimation, for he showed that\nhe did not know one of the two highest sentiments\u2014and in fact the higher\nof them!\"\n\n\n 62.\n\n_Love._\u2014Love pardons even the passion of the beloved.\n\n\n 63.\n\n_Woman in Music._\u2014How does it happen that warm and rainy winds bring the\nmusical mood and the inventive delight in melody with them? Are they not\nthe same winds that fill the churches and give women amorous thoughts?\n\n\n 64.\n\n_Sceptics._\u2014I fear women who have become old are more sceptical in the\nsecret recesses of their hearts than any of the men are; they believe in\nthe superficiality of existence as in its essence, and all virtue and\nprofundity is to them only the disguising of this \"truth,\" the very\ndesirable disguising of a _pudendum_,\u2014an affair, therefore, of decency\nand of modesty, and nothing more!\n\n\n 65.\n\n_Devotedness._\u2014There are noble women with a certain poverty of spirit,\nwho, in order to _express_ their profoundest devotedness, have no other\nalternative but to offer their virtue and modesty: it is the highest\nthing they have. And this present is often accepted without putting the\nrecipient under such deep obligation as the giver supposed,\u2014a very\nmelancholy story!\n\n\n 66.\n\n_The Strength of the Weak._\u2014Women are all skilful in exaggerating their\nweaknesses, indeed they are inventive in weaknesses, so as to seem quite\nfragile ornaments to which even a grain of dust does harm; their\nexistence is meant to bring home to man's mind his coarseness, and to\nappeal to his conscience. They thus defend themselves against the strong\nand all \"rights of might.\"\n\n\n 67.\n\n_Self-dissembling._\u2014She loves him now and has since been looking forth\nwith as quiet confidence as a cow; but alas! It was precisely his\ndelight that she seemed so fitful and absolutely incomprehensible! He\nhad rather too much steady weather in himself already! Would she not do\nwell to feign her old character? to feign indifference? Does not\u2014love\nitself advise her _to do so_? _Vivat com\u0153dia!_\n\n\n 68.\n\n_Will and Willingness._\u2014Some one brought a youth to a wise man and said,\n\"See, this is one who is being corrupted by women!\" The wise man shook\nhis head and smiled. \"It is men,\" he called out, \"who corrupt women; and\neverything that women lack should be atoned for and improved in men,\u2014for\nman creates for himself the ideal of woman, and woman moulds herself\naccording to this ideal.\"\u2014\"You are too tender-hearted towards women,\"\nsaid one of the bystanders, \"you do not know them!\" The wise man\nanswered: \"Man's attribute is will, woman's attribute is\nwillingness,\u2014such is the law of the sexes, verily! a hard law for woman!\nAll human beings are innocent of their existence, women, however, are\ndoubly innocent; who could have enough of salve and gentleness for\nthem!\"\u2014\"What about salve! What about gentleness!\" called out another\nperson in the crowd, \"we must educate women better!\"\u2014\"We must educate\nmen better,\" said the wise man, and made a sign to the youth to follow\nhim.\u2014The youth, however, did not follow him.\n\n\n 69.\n\n_Capacity for Revenge._\u2014That a person cannot and consequently will not\ndefend himself, does not yet cast disgrace upon him in our eyes; but we\ndespise the person who has neither the ability nor the good-will for\nrevenge\u2014whether it be a man or a woman. Would a woman be able to\ncaptivate us (or, as people say, to \"fetter\" us) whom we did not credit\nwith knowing how to employ the dagger (any kind of dagger) skilfully\n_against us_ under certain circumstances? Or against herself; which in a\ncertain case might be the severest revenge (the Chinese revenge).\n\n\n 70.\n\n_The Mistresses of the Masters._\u2014A powerful contralto voice, as we\noccasionally hear it in the theatre, raises suddenly for us the curtain\non possibilities in which we usually do not believe; all at once we are\nconvinced that somewhere in the world there may be women with high,\nheroic, royal souls, capable and prepared for magnificent remonstrances,\nresolutions, and self-sacrifices, capable and prepared for domination\nover men, because in them the best in man, superior to sex, has become a\ncorporeal ideal. To be sure, it is not the intention of the theatre that\nsuch voices should give such a conception of women; they are usually\nintended to represent the ideal male lover, for example, a Romeo; but,\nto judge by my experience, the theatre regularly miscalculates here, and\nthe musician also, who expects such effects from such a voice. People do\nnot believe in _these_ lovers; these voices still contain a tinge of the\nmotherly and housewifely character, and most of all when love is in\ntheir tone.\n\n\n 71.\n\n_On Female Chastity._\u2014There is something quite astonishing and\nextraordinary in the education of women of the higher class; indeed,\nthere is perhaps nothing more paradoxical. All the world is agreed to\neducate them with as much ignorance as possible _in eroticis_, and to\ninspire their soul with a profound shame of such things, and the\nextremest impatience and horror at the suggestion of them. It is really\nhere only that all the \"honour\" of woman is at stake; what would one not\nforgive them in other respects! But here they are intended to remain\nignorant to the very backbone:\u2014they are intended to have neither eyes,\nears, words, nor thoughts for this, their \"wickedness\"; indeed knowledge\nhere is already evil. And then! To be hurled as with an awful\nthunderbolt into reality and knowledge with marriage\u2014and indeed by him\nwhom they most love and esteem: to have to encounter love and shame in\ncontradiction, yea, to have to feel rapture, abandonment, duty,\nsympathy, and fright at the unexpected proximity of God and animal, and\nwhatever else besides! all at once!\u2014There, in fact, a psychic\nentanglement has been effected which is quite unequalled! Even the\nsympathetic curiosity of the wisest discerner of men does not suffice to\ndivine how this or that woman gets along with the solution of this\nenigma and the enigma of this solution; what dreadful, far-reaching\nsuspicions must awaken thereby in the poor unhinged soul; and forsooth,\nhow the ultimate philosophy and scepticism of the woman casts anchor at\nthis point!\u2014Afterwards the same profound silence as before: and often\neven a silence to herself, a shutting of her eyes to herself.\u2014Young\nwives on that account make great efforts to appear superficial and\nthoughtless; the most ingenious of them simulate a kind of\nimpudence.\u2014Wives easily feel their husbands as a question-mark to their\nhonour, and their children as an apology or atonement,\u2014they require\nchildren, and wish for them in quite another spirit than a husband\nwishes for them.\u2014In short, one cannot be gentle enough towards women!\n\n\n 72.\n\n_Mothers._\u2014Animals think differently from men with respect to females;\nwith them the female is regarded as the productive being. There is no\npaternal love among them, but there is such a thing as love of the\nchildren of a beloved, and habituation to them. In the young, the\nfemales find gratification for their lust of dominion; the young are a\nproperty, an occupation, something quite comprehensible to them, with\nwhich they can chatter: all this conjointly is maternal love,\u2014it is to\nbe compared to the love of the artist for his work. Pregnancy has made\nthe females gentler, more expectant, more timid, more submissively\ninclined; and similarly intellectual pregnancy engenders the character\nof the contemplative, who are allied to women in character:\u2014they are the\nmasculine mothers.\u2014Among animals the masculine sex is regarded as the\nbeautiful sex.\n\n\n 73.\n\n_Saintly Cruelty._\u2014A man holding a newly born child in his hands came to\na saint. \"What should I do with the child,\" he asked, \"it is wretched,\ndeformed, and has not even enough of life to die.\" \"Kill it,\" cried the\nsaint with a dreadful voice, \"kill it, and then hold it in thy arms for\nthree days and three nights to brand it on thy memory:\u2014thus wilt thou\nnever again beget a child when it is not the time for thee to\nbeget.\"\u2014When the man had heard this he went away disappointed; and many\nfound fault with the saint because he had advised cruelty, for he had\nadvised to kill the child. \"But is it not more cruel to let it live?\"\nasked the saint.\n\n\n 74.\n\n_The Unsuccessful._\u2014Those poor women always fail of success who become\nagitated and uncertain, and talk too much in presence of him whom they\nlove; for men are most successfully seduced by a certain subtle and\nphlegmatic tenderness.\n\n\n 75.\n\n_The Third Sex._\u2014\"A small man is a paradox, but still a man,\u2014but the\nsmall woman seems to me to be of another sex in comparison with\nwell-grown ones\"\u2014said an old dancing-master. A small woman is never\nbeautiful\u2014said old Aristotle.\n\n\n 76.\n\n_The greatest Danger._\u2014Had there not at all times been a larger number\nof men who regarded the cultivation of their mind\u2014their \"rationality\"\u2014as\ntheir pride, their obligation, their virtue, and were injured or shamed\nby all play of fancy and extravagance of thinking\u2014as lovers of \"sound\ncommon sense\":\u2014mankind would long ago have perished! Incipient\n_insanity_ has hovered, and hovers continually over mankind as its\ngreatest danger: that is precisely the breaking out of inclination in\nfeeling, seeing, and hearing; the enjoyment of the unruliness of the\nmind; the delight in human unreason. It is not truth and certainty that\nis the antithesis of the world of the insane, but the universality and\nall-obligatoriness of a belief, in short, non-voluntariness in forming\nopinions. And the greatest labour of human beings hitherto has been to\nagree with one another regarding a great many things, and to impose upon\nthemselves a _law of agreement_\u2014indifferent whether these things are\ntrue or false. This is the discipline of the mind which has preserved\nmankind;\u2014but the counter-impulses are still so powerful that one can\nreally speak of the future of mankind with little confidence. The ideas\nof things still continually shift and move, and will perhaps alter more\nthan ever in the future; it is continually the most select spirits\nthemselves who strive against universal obligatoriness\u2014the investigators\nof _truth_ above all! The accepted belief, as the belief of all the\nworld, continually engenders a disgust and a new longing in the more\ningenious minds; and already the slow _tempo_ which it demands for all\nintellectual processes (the imitation of the tortoise, which is here\nrecognised as the rule) makes the artists and poets runaways:\u2014it is in\nthese impatient spirits that a downright delight in delirium breaks out,\nbecause delirium has such a joyful _tempo_! Virtuous intellects,\ntherefore, are needed\u2014ah! I want to use the least ambiguous\nword,\u2014_virtuous stupidity_ is needed, imperturbable conductors of the\n_slow_ spirits are needed, in order that the faithful of the great\ncollective belief may remain with one another and dance their dance\nfurther: it is a necessity of the first importance that here enjoins and\ndemands. _We others are the exceptions and the danger_,\u2014we eternally\nneed protection!\u2014Well, there can actually be something said in favour of\nthe exceptions _provided that they never want to become the rule_.\n\n\n 77.\n\n_The Animal with good Conscience._\u2014It is not unknown to me that there is\nvulgarity in everything that pleases Southern Europe\u2014whether it be\nItalian opera (for example, Rossini's and Bellini's), or the Spanish\nadventure-romance (most readily accessible to us in the French garb of\nGil Blas)\u2014but it does not offend me, any more than the vulgarity which\none encounters in a walk through Pompeii, or even in the reading of\nevery ancient book: what is the reason of this? Is it because shame is\nlacking here, and because the vulgar always comes forward just as sure\nand certain of itself as anything noble, lovely, and passionate in the\nsame kind of music or romance? \"The animal has its rights like man, so\nlet it run about freely; and you, my dear fellow-man, are still this\nanimal, in spite of all!\"\u2014that seems to me the moral of the case, and\nthe peculiarity of southern humanity. Bad taste has its rights like good\ntaste, and even a prerogative over the latter when it is the great\nrequisite, the sure satisfaction, and as it were a universal language,\nan immediately intelligible mask and attitude; the excellent, select\ntaste on the other hand has always something of a seeking, tentative\ncharacter, not fully certain that it understands,\u2014it is never, and has\nnever been popular! The _masque_ is and remains popular! So let all this\nmasquerade run along in the melodies and cadences, in the leaps and\nmerriment of the rhythm of these operas! Quite the ancient life! What\ndoes one understand of it, if one does not understand the delight in the\nmasque, the good conscience of all masquerade! Here is the bath and the\nrefreshment of the ancient spirit:\u2014and perhaps this bath was still more\nnecessary for the rare and sublime natures of the ancient world than for\nthe vulgar.\u2014On the other hand, a vulgar turn in northern works, for\nexample in German music, offends me unutterably. There is _shame_ in it,\nthe artist has lowered himself in his own sight, and could not even\navoid blushing: we are ashamed with him, and are so hurt because we\nsurmise that he believed he had to lower himself on our account.\n\n\n 78.\n\n_What we should be Grateful for._\u2014It is only the artists, and especially\nthe theatrical artists who have furnished men with eyes and ears to hear\nand see with some pleasure what everyone is in himself, what he\nexperiences and aims at: it is only _they_ who have taught us how to\nestimate the hero that is concealed in each of these common-place men,\nand the art of looking at ourselves from a distance as heroes, and as it\nwere simplified and transfigured,\u2014the art of \"putting ourselves on the\nstage\" before ourselves. It is thus only that we get beyond some of the\npaltry details in ourselves! Without that art we should be nothing but\nfore-ground, and would live absolutely under the spell of the\nperspective which makes the closest and the commonest seem immensely\nlarge and like reality in itself.\u2014Perhaps there is merit of a similar\nkind in the religion which commanded us to look at the sinfulness of\nevery individual man with a magnifying-glass, and to make a great,\nimmortal criminal out of the sinner; in that it put eternal perspectives\naround man, it taught him to see himself from a distance, and as\nsomething past, something entire.\n\n\n 79.\n\n_The Charm of Imperfection._\u2014I see here a poet, who, like so many men,\nexercises a higher charm by his imperfections than by all that is\nrounded off and takes perfect shape under his hands,\u2014indeed, he derives\nhis advantage and reputation far more from his actual limitations than\nfrom his abundant powers. His work never expresses altogether what he\nwould really like to express, what he _would like to have seen_: he\nappears to have had the foretaste of a vision and never the vision\nitself:\u2014but an extraordinary longing for this vision has remained in his\nsoul; and from this he derives his equally extraordinary eloquence of\nlonging and craving. With this he raises those who listen to him above\nhis work and above all \"works,\" and gives them wings to rise higher than\nhearers have ever risen before, thus making them poets and seers\nthemselves; they then show an admiration for the originator of their\nhappiness, as if he had led them immediately to the vision of his\nholiest and ultimate verities, as if he had reached his goal, and had\nactually _seen_ and communicated his vision. It is to the advantage of\nhis reputation that he has not really arrived at his goal.\n\n\n 80.\n\n_Art and Nature._\u2014The Greeks (or at least the Athenians) liked to hear\ngood talking: indeed they had an eager inclination for it, which\ndistinguished them more than anything else from non-Greeks. And so they\nrequired good talking even from passion on the stage, and submitted to\nthe unnaturalness of dramatic verse with delight:\u2014in nature, forsooth,\npassion is so sparing of words! so dumb and confused! Or if it finds\nwords, so embarrassed and irrational and a shame to itself! We have now,\nall of us, thanks to the Greeks, accustomed ourselves to this\nunnaturalness on the stage, as we endure that other unnaturalness, the\n_singing_ passion, and willingly endure it, thanks to the Italians.\u2014It\nhas become a necessity to us, which we cannot satisfy out of the\nresources of actuality, to hear men talk well and in full detail in the\nmost trying situations: it enraptures us at present when the tragic hero\nstill finds words, reasons, eloquent gestures, and on the whole a bright\nspirituality, where life approaches the abysses, and where the actual\nman mostly loses his head, and certainly his fine language. This kind of\n_deviation from nature_ is perhaps the most agreeable repast for man's\npride: he loves art generally on account of it, as the expression of\nhigh, heroic unnaturalness and convention. One rightly objects to the\ndramatic poet when he does not transform everything into reason and\nspeech, but always retains a remnant of _silence_:\u2014just as one is\ndissatisfied with an operatic musician who cannot find a melody for the\nhighest emotion, but only an emotional, \"natural\" stammering and crying.\nHere nature _has to_ be contradicted! Here the common charm of illusion\n_has to_ give place to a higher charm! The Greeks go far, far in this\ndirection\u2014frightfully far! As they constructed the stage as narrow as\npossible and dispensed with all the effect of deep backgrounds, as they\nmade pantomime and easy motion impossible to the actor, and transformed\nhim into a solemn, stiff, masked bogey, so they have also deprived\npassion itself of its deep background, and have dictated to it a law of\nfine talk; indeed, they have really done everything to counteract the\nelementary effect of representations that inspire pity and terror: _they\ndid not want pity and terror_,\u2014with due deference, with the highest\ndeference to Aristotle! but he certainly did not hit the nail, to say\nnothing of the head of the nail, when he spoke about the final aim of\nGreek tragedy! Let us but look at the Grecian tragic poets with respect\nto _what_ most excited their diligence, their inventiveness, and their\nemulation,\u2014certainly it was not the intention of subjugating the\nspectators by emotion! The Athenian went to the theatre _to hear fine\ntalking_! And fine talking was arrived at by Sophocles!\u2014pardon me this\nheresy!\u2014It is very different with _serious opera_: all its masters make\nit their business to prevent their personages being understood. \"An\noccasional word picked up may come to the assistance of the inattentive\nlistener; but on the whole the situation must be self-explanatory,\u2014the\n_talking_ is of no account!\"\u2014so they all think, and so they have all\nmade fun of the words. Perhaps they have only lacked courage to express\nfully their extreme contempt for words: a little additional insolence in\nRossini, and he would have allowed la-la-la-la to be sung throughout\u2014and\nit might have been the rational course! The personages of the opera are\n_not_ meant to be believed \"in their words,\" but in their tones! That is\nthe difference, that is the fine _unnaturalness_ on account of which\npeople go to the opera! Even the _recitativo secco_ is not really\nintended to be heard as words and text: this kind of half-music is meant\nrather in the first place to give the musical ear a little repose (the\nrepose from _melody_, as from the sublimest, and on that account the\nmost straining enjoyment of this art),\u2014but very soon something different\nresults, namely, an increasing impatience, an increasing resistance, a\nnew longing for _entire_ music, for melody.\u2014How is it with the art of\nRichard Wagner as seen from this standpoint? Is it perhaps the same?\nPerhaps otherwise? It would often seem to me as if one needed to have\nlearned by heart both the words _and_ the music of his creations before\nthe performances; for without that\u2014so it seemed to me\u2014one _may hear_\nneither the words, nor even the music.\n\n\n 81.\n\n_Grecian Taste._\u2014\"What is beautiful in it?\"\u2014asked a certain\ngeometrician, after a performance of the _Iphigenia_\u2014\"there is nothing\nproved in it!\" Could the Greeks have been so far from this taste? In\nSophocles at least \"everything is proved.\"\n\n\n 82.\n\n_Esprit Un-Grecian._\u2014The Greeks were exceedingly logical and plain in\nall their thinking; they did not get tired of it, at least during their\nlong flourishing period, as is so often the case with the French; who\ntoo willingly made a little excursion into the opposite, and in fact\nendure the spirit of logic only when it betrays its _sociable_ courtesy,\nits sociable self-renunciation, by a multitude of such little excursions\ninto its opposite. Logic appears to them as necessary as bread and\nwater, but also like these as a kind of prison-fare, as soon as it is to\nbe taken pure and by itself. In good society one must never want to be\nin the right absolutely and solely, as all pure logic requires; hence,\nthe little dose of irrationality in all French _esprit_.\u2014The social\nsense of the Greeks was far less developed than that of the French in\nthe present and the past; hence, so little _esprit_ in their cleverest\nmen, hence, so little wit, even in their wags, hence\u2014alas! But people\nwill not readily believe these tenets of mine, and how much of the kind\nI have still on my soul!\u2014_Est res magna tacere_\u2014says Martial, like all\ngarrulous people.\n\n\n 83.\n\n_Translations._\u2014One can estimate the amount of the historical sense\nwhich an age possesses by the way in which it makes _translations_ and\nseeks to embody in itself past periods and literatures. The French of\nCorneille, and even the French of the Revolution, appropriated Roman\nantiquity in a manner for which we would no longer have the\ncourage\u2014owing to our superior historical sense. And Roman antiquity\nitself: how violently, and at the same time how na\u00efvely, did it lay its\nhand on everything excellent and elevated belonging to the older Grecian\nantiquity! How they translated these writings into the Roman present!\nHow they wiped away intentionally and unconcernedly the wing-dust of the\nbutterfly moment! It is thus that Horace now and then translated Alc\u00e6us\nor Archilochus, it is thus that Propertius translated Callimachus and\nPhiletas (poets of equal rank with Theocritus, if we _be allowed_ to\njudge): of what consequence was it to them that the actual creator\nexperienced this and that, and had inscribed the indication thereof in\nhis poem!\u2014as poets they were averse to the antiquarian, inquisitive\nspirit which precedes the historical sense; as poets they did not\nrespect those essentially personal traits and names, nor anything\npeculiar to city, coast, or century, such as its costume and mask, but\nat once put the present and the Roman in its place. They seem to us to\nask: \"Should we not make the old new for ourselves, and adjust\n_ourselves_ to it? Should we not be allowed to inspire this dead body\nwith our soul? for it is dead indeed: how loathsome is everything\ndead!\"\u2014They did not know the pleasure of the historical sense; the past\nand the alien was painful to them, and as Romans it was an incitement to\na Roman conquest. In fact, they conquered when they translated,\u2014not only\nin that they omitted the historical: no, they added also allusions to\nthe present; above all, they struck out the name of the poet and put\ntheir own in its place\u2014not with the feeling of theft, but with the very\nbest conscience of the _imperium Romanum_.\n\n\n 84.\n\n_The Origin of Poetry._\u2014The lovers of the fantastic in man, who at the\nsame time represent the doctrine of instinctive morality, draw this\nconclusion: \"Granted that utility has been honoured at all times as the\nhighest divinity, where then in all the world has poetry come from?\u2014this\nrhythmising of speech which thwarts rather than furthers plainness of\ncommunication, and which, nevertheless, has sprung up everywhere on the\nearth, and still springs up, as a mockery of all useful purpose! The\nwildly beautiful irrationality of poetry refutes you, ye utilitarians!\nThe wish _to get rid of_ utility in some way\u2014that is precisely what has\nelevated man, that is what has inspired him to morality and art!\" Well,\nI must here speak for once to please the utilitarians,\u2014they are so\nseldom in the right that it is pitiful! In the old times which called\npoetry into being, people had still utility in view with respect to it,\nand a very important utility\u2014at the time when rhythm was introduced into\nspeech, the force which arranges all the particles of the sentence anew,\ncommands the choosing of the words, recolours the thought, and makes it\nmore obscure, more foreign, and more distant: to be sure a\n_superstitious utility_! It was intended that a human entreaty should be\nmore profoundly impressed upon the Gods by virtue of rhythm, after it\nhad been observed that men could remember a verse better than an\nunmetrical speech. It was likewise thought that people could make\nthemselves audible at greater distances by the rhythmical beat; the\nrhythmical prayer seemed to come nearer to the ear of the Gods. Above\nall, however, people wanted to have the advantage of the elementary\nconquest which man experiences in himself when he hears music: rhythm is\na constraint; it produces an unconquerable desire to yield, to join in;\nnot only the step of the foot, but also the soul itself follows the\nmeasure,\u2014probably the soul of the Gods also, as people thought! They\nattempted, therefore, to _constrain_ the Gods by rhythm and to exercise\na power over them; they threw poetry around the Gods like a magic noose.\nThere was a still more wonderful idea, and it has perhaps operated most\npowerfully of all in the originating of poetry. Among the Pythagoreans\nit made its appearance as a philosophical doctrine and as an artifice of\nteaching: but long before there were philosophers music was acknowledged\nto possess the power of unburdening the emotions, of purifying the soul,\nof soothing the _ferocia animi_\u2014and this was owing to the rhythmical\nelement in music. When the proper tension and harmony of the soul were\nlost a person had to _dance_ to the measure of the singer,\u2014that was the\nrecipe of this medical art. By means of it Terpander quieted a tumult,\nEmpedocles calmed a maniac, Damon purged a love-sick youth; by means of\nit even the maddened, revengeful Gods were treated for the purpose of a\ncure. First of all, it was by driving the frenzy and wantonness of their\nemotions to the highest pitch, by making the furious mad, and the\nrevengeful intoxicated with vengeance:\u2014all the orgiastic cults seek to\ndischarge the _ferocia_ of a deity all at once and thus make an orgy, so\nthat the deity may feel freer and quieter afterwards, and leave man in\npeace. _Melos_, according to its root, signifies a soothing means, not\nbecause the song is gentle itself, but because its after-effect makes\ngentle.\u2014And not only in the religious song, but also in the secular song\nof the most ancient times the prerequisite is that the rhythm should\nexercise a magical influence; for example, in drawing water, or in\nrowing: the song is for the enchanting of the spirits supposed to be\nactive thereby; it makes them obliging, involuntary, and the instruments\nof man. And as often as a person acts he has occasion to sing, _every_\naction is dependent on the assistance of spirits: magic song and\nincantation appear to be the original form of poetry. When verse also\ncame to be used in oracles\u2014the Greeks said that the hexameter was\ninvented at Delphi,\u2014the rhythm was here also intended to exercise a\ncompulsory influence. To make a prophecy\u2014that means originally\n(according to what seems to me the probable derivation of the Greek\nword) to determine something; people thought they could determine the\nfuture by winning Apollo over to their side: he who, according to the\nmost ancient idea, is far more than a foreseeing deity. According as the\nformula is pronounced with literal and rhythmical correctness, it\ndetermines the future: the formula, however, is the invention of Apollo,\nwho as the God of rhythm, can also determine the goddesses of\nfate.\u2014Looked at and investigated as a whole, was there ever anything\n_more serviceable_ to the ancient superstitious species of human being\nthan rhythm? People could do everything with it: they could make labour\ngo on magically; they could compel a God to appear, to be near at hand,\nand listen to them; they could arrange the future for themselves\naccording to their will; they could unburden their own souls of any kind\nof excess (of anxiety, of mania, of sympathy, of revenge), and not only\ntheir own soul, but the souls of the most evil spirits,\u2014without verse a\nperson was nothing, by means of verse a person became almost a God. Such\na fundamental feeling no longer allows itself to be fully\neradicated,\u2014and even now, after millenniums of long labour in combating\nsuch superstition, the very wisest of us occasionally becomes the fool\nof rhythm, be it only that one _perceives_ a thought to be _truer_ when\nit has a metrical form and approaches with a divine hopping. Is it not a\nvery funny thing that the most serious philosophers, however anxious\nthey are in other respects for strict certainty, still appeal to\n_poetical sayings_ in order to give their thoughts force and\ncredibility?\u2014and yet it is more dangerous to a truth when the poet\nassents to it than when he contradicts it! For, as Homer says, \"The\nsingers speak much falsehood!\"\u2014\n\n\n 85.\n\n_The Good and the Beautiful._\u2014Artists _glorify_ continually\u2014they do\nnothing else,\u2014and indeed they glorify all those conditions and things\nthat have a reputation, so that man may feel himself good or great, or\nintoxicated, or merry, or pleased and wise by it. Those _select_ things\nand conditions whose value for human _happiness_ is regarded as secure\nand determined, are the objects of artists: they are ever lying in wait\nto discover such things, to transfer them into the domain of art. I mean\nto say that they are not themselves the valuers of happiness and of the\nhappy ones, but they always press close to these valuers with the\ngreatest curiosity and longing, in order immediately to use their\nvaluations advantageously. As besides their impatience, they have also\nthe big lungs of heralds and the feet of runners, they are likewise\nalways among the first to glorify the _new_ excellency, and often _seem_\nto be those who first of all called it good and valued it as good. This,\nhowever, as we have said, is an error; they are only faster and louder\nthan the actual valuers:\u2014And who then are these?\u2014They are the rich and\nthe leisurely.\n\n\n 86.\n\n_The Theatre._\u2014This day has given me once more strong and elevated\nsentiments, and if I could have music and art in the evening, I know\nwell what music and art I should _not_ like to have; namely, none of\nthat which would fain intoxicate its hearers and _excite_ them to a\ncrisis of strong and high feeling,\u2014those men with commonplace souls, who\nin the evening are not like victors on triumphal cars, but like tired\nmules to whom life has rather too often applied the whip. What would\nthose men at all know of \"higher moods,\" unless there were expedients\nfor causing ecstasy and idealistic strokes of the whip!\u2014and thus they\nhave their inspirers as they have their wines. But what is their drink\nand their drunkenness to _me_! Does the inspired one need wine? He\nrather looks with a kind of disgust at the agency and the agent which\nare here intended to produce an effect without sufficient reason,\u2014an\nimitation of the high tide of the soul! What? One gives the mole wings\nand proud fancies\u2014before going to sleep, before he creeps into his hole?\nOne sends him into the theatre and puts great magnifying-glasses to his\nblind and tired eyes? Men, whose life is not \"action\" but business, sit\nin front of the stage and look at strange beings to whom life is more\nthan business? \"This is proper,\" you say, \"this is entertaining, this is\nwhat culture wants!\"\u2014Well then! culture is too often lacking in me, for\nthis sight is too often disgusting to me. He who has enough of tragedy\nand comedy in himself surely prefers to remain away from the theatre;\nor, as the exception, the whole procedure\u2014theatre and public and poet\nincluded\u2014becomes for him a truly tragic and comic play, so that the\nperformed piece counts for little in comparison. He who is something\nlike Faust and Manfred, what does it matter to him about the Fausts and\nManfreds of the theatre!\u2014while it certainly gives him something to think\nabout _that_ such figures are brought into the theatre at all. The\n_strongest_ thoughts and passions before those who are not capable of\nthought and passion\u2014but of _intoxication_ only! And _those_ as a means\nto this end! And theatre and music the hashish-smoking and betel-chewing\nof Europeans! Oh, who will narrate to us the whole history of\nnarcotics!\u2014It is almost the history of \"culture,\" the so-called higher\nculture!\n\n\n 87.\n\n_The Conceit of Artists._\u2014I think artists often do not know what they\ncan do best, because they are too conceited, and have set their minds on\nsomething loftier than those little plants appear to be, which can grow\nup to perfection on their soil, fresh, rare, and beautiful. The final\nvalue of their own garden and vineyard is superciliously underestimated\nby them, and their love and their insight are not of the same quality.\nHere is a musician, who, more than any one else, has the genius for\ndiscovering the tones peculiar to suffering, oppressed, tortured souls,\nand who can endow even dumb animals with speech. No one equals him in\nthe colours of the late autumn, in the indescribably touching happiness\nof a last, a final, and all too short enjoyment; he knows a chord for\nthose secret and weird midnights of the soul when cause and effect seem\nout of joint, and when every instant something may originate \"out of\nnothing.\" He draws his resources best of all out of the lower depths of\nhuman happiness, and so to speak, out of its drained goblet, where the\nbitterest and most nauseous drops have ultimately, for good or for ill,\ncommingled with the sweetest. He knows the weary shuffling along of the\nsoul which can no longer leap or fly, yea, not even walk; he has the shy\nglance of concealed pain, of understanding without comfort, of\nleave-taking without avowal; yea, as the Orpheus of all secret misery,\nhe is greater than anyone; and in fact much has been added to art by him\nwhich was hitherto inexpressible and not even thought worthy of art, and\nwhich was only to be scared away, by words, and not grasped\u2014many small\nand quite microscopic features of the soul: yes, he is the master of\nminiature. But he does not _wish_ to be so! His _character_ is more in\nlove with large walls and daring frescoes! He fails to see that his\n_spirit_ has a different taste and inclination, and prefers to sit\nquietly in the corners of ruined houses:\u2014concealed in this way,\nconcealed even from himself, he there paints his proper masterpieces,\nall of which are very short, often only one bar in length,\u2014there only\ndoes he become quite good, great, and perfect, perhaps there only.\u2014But\nhe does not know it! He is too conceited to know it.\n\n\n 88.\n\n_Earnestness for the Truth._\u2014Earnest for the truth! What different\nthings men understand by these words! Just the same opinions, and modes\nof demonstration and testing which a thinker regards as a frivolity in\nhimself, to which he has succumbed with shame at one time or other,\u2014just\nthe same opinions may give to an artist, who comes in contact with them\nand accepts them temporarily, the consciousness that the profoundest\nearnestness for the truth has now taken hold of him, and that it is\nworthy of admiration that, although an artist, he at the same time\nexhibits the most ardent desire for the antithesis of the apparent. It\nis thus possible that a person may, just by his pathos of earnestness,\nbetray how superficially and sparingly his intellect has hitherto\noperated in the domain of knowledge.\u2014And is not everything that we\nconsider _important_ our betrayer? It shows where our motives lie, and\nwhere our motives are altogether lacking.\n\n\n 89.\n\n_Now and Formerly._\u2014Of what consequence is all our art in artistic\nproducts, if that higher art, the art of the festival, be lost by us?\nFormerly all artistic products were exhibited on the great festive path\nof humanity, as tokens of remembrance, and monuments of high and happy\nmoments. One now seeks to allure the exhausted and sickly from the great\nsuffering path of humanity for a wanton moment by means of works of art;\none furnishes them with a little ecstasy and insanity.\n\n\n 90.\n\n_Lights and Shades._\u2014Books and writings are different with different\nthinkers. One writer has collected together in his book all the rays of\nlight which he could quickly plunder and carry home from an illuminating\nexperience; while another gives only the shadows, and the grey and black\nreplicas of that which on the previous day had towered up in his soul.\n\n\n 91.\n\n_Precaution._\u2014Alfieri, as is well known, told a great many falsehoods\nwhen he narrated the history of his life to his astonished\ncontemporaries. He told falsehoods owing to the despotism toward himself\nwhich he exhibited, for example, in the way in which he created his own\nlanguage, and tyrannised himself into a poet:\u2014he finally found a rigid\nform of sublimity into which he _forced_ his life and his memory; he\nmust have suffered much in the process.\u2014I would also give no credit to a\nhistory of Plato's life written by himself, as little as to Rousseau's,\nor to the _Vita nuova_ of Dante.\n\n\n 92.\n\n_Prose and Poetry._\u2014Let it be observed that the great masters of prose\nhave almost always been poets as well, whether openly, or only in secret\nand for the \"closet\"; and in truth one only writes good prose _in view\nof poetry_! For prose is an uninterrupted, polite warfare with poetry;\nall its charm consists in the fact that poetry is constantly avoided,\nand contradicted; every abstraction wants to have a gibe at poetry, and\nwishes to be uttered with a mocking voice; all dryness and coolness is\nmeant to bring the amiable goddess into an amiable despair; there are\noften approximations and reconciliations for the moment, and then a\nsudden recoil and a burst of laughter; the curtain is often drawn up and\ndazzling light let in just while the goddess is enjoying her twilights\nand dull colours; the word is often taken out of her mouth and chanted\nto a melody while she holds her fine hands before her delicate little\nears\u2014and so there are a thousand enjoyments of the warfare, the defeats\nincluded, of which the unpoetic, the so-called prose-men know nothing at\nall:\u2014they consequently write and speak only bad prose! _Warfare is the\nfather of all good things_, it is also the father of good prose!\u2014There\nhave been four very singular and truly poetical men in this century who\nhave arrived at mastership in prose, for which otherwise this century is\nnot suited, owing to lack of poetry, as we have indicated. Not to take\nGoethe into account, for he is reasonably claimed by the century that\nproduced him, I look only on Giacomo Leopardi, Prosper M\u00e9rim\u00e9e, Ralph\nWaldo Emerson, and Walter Savage Landor, the author of _Imaginary\nConversations_, as worthy to be called masters of prose.\n\n\n 93.\n\n_But why, then, do you Write?_\u2014A: I do not belong to those who _think_\nwith the wet pen in hand; and still less to those who yield themselves\nentirely to their passions before the open ink-bottle, sitting on their\nchair and staring at the paper. I am always vexed and abashed by\nwriting; writing is a necessity for me,\u2014even to speak of it in a simile\nis disagreeable. B: But why, then, do you write? A: Well, my dear Sir,\nto tell you in confidence, I have hitherto found no other means of\n_getting rid of_ my thoughts. B: And why do you wish to get rid of them?\nA: Why I wish? Do I really wish! I must.\u2014B: Enough! Enough!\n\n\n 94.\n\n_Growth after Death._\u2014Those few daring words about moral matters which\nFontenelle threw into his immortal _Dialogues of the Dead_, were\nregarded by his age as paradoxes and amusements of a not unscrupulous\nwit; even the highest judges of taste and intellect saw nothing more in\nthem,\u2014indeed, Fontenelle himself perhaps saw nothing more. Then\nsomething incredible takes place: these thoughts become truths! Science\nproves them! The game becomes serious! And we read those dialogues with\na feeling different from that with which Voltaire and Helvetius read\nthem, and we involuntarily raise their originator into another and _much\nhigher_ class of intellects than they did.\u2014Rightly? Wrongly?\n\n\n 95.\n\n_Chamfort._\u2014That such a judge of men and of the multitude as Chamfort\nshould side with the multitude, instead of standing apart in\nphilosophical resignation and defence\u2014I am at a loss to explain, except\nas follows:\u2014There was an instinct in him stronger than his wisdom, and\nit had never been gratified: the hatred against all _noblesse_ of blood;\nperhaps his mother's old and only too explicable hatred, which was\nconsecrated in him by love of her,\u2014an instinct of revenge from his\nboyhood, which waited for the hour to avenge his mother. But then the\ncourse of his life, his genius, and alas! most of all, perhaps, the\npaternal blood in his veins, had seduced him to rank and consider\nhimself equal to the _noblesse_\u2014for many, many years! In the end,\nhowever, he could not endure the sight of himself, the \"old man\" under\nthe old _r\u00e9gime_, any longer; he got into a violent, penitential\npassion, and _in this state_ he put on the raiment of the populace as\n_his_ special kind of hair-shirt! His bad conscience was the neglect of\nrevenge.\u2014If Chamfort had then been a little more of the philosopher, the\nRevolution would not have had its tragic wit and its sharpest sting; it\nwould have been regarded as a much more stupid affair, and would have\nhad no such seductive influence on men's minds. But Chamfort's hatred\nand revenge educated an entire generation; and the most illustrious men\npassed through his school. Let us but consider that Mirabeau looked up\nto Chamfort as to his higher and older self, from whom he expected (and\nendured) impulses, warnings, and condemnations,\u2014Mirabeau, who as a man\nbelongs to an entirely different order of greatness, as the very\nforemost among the statesman-geniuses of yesterday and to-day.\u2014Strange,\nthat in spite of such a friend and advocate\u2014we possess Mirabeau's\nletters to Chamfort\u2014this wittiest of all moralists has remained\nunfamiliar to the French, quite the same as Stendhal, who has perhaps\nhad the most penetrating eyes and ears of any Frenchman of _this_\ncentury. Is it because the latter had really too much of the German and\nthe Englishman in his nature for the Parisians to endure him?\u2014while\nChamfort, a man with ample knowledge of the profundities and secret\nmotives of the soul, gloomy, suffering, ardent\u2014a thinker who found\nlaughter necessary as the remedy of life, and who almost gave himself up\nas lost every day that he had not laughed,\u2014seems much more like an\nItalian, and related by blood to Dante and Leopardi, than like a\nFrenchman. One knows Chamfort's last words: \"_Ah! mon ami_,\" he said to\nSiey\u00e8s, \"_je m'en vais enfin de ce monde, o\u00f9 il faut que le c\u0153ur se\nbrise ou se bronze_\u2014.\" These were certainly not the words of a dying\nFrenchman.\n\n\n 96.\n\n_Two Orators._\u2014Of these two orators the one arrives at a full\nunderstanding of his case only when he yields himself to emotion; it is\nonly this that pumps sufficient blood and heat into his brain to compel\nhis high intellectuality to reveal itself. The other attempts, indeed,\nnow and then to do the same: to state his case sonorously, vehemently,\nand spiritedly with the aid of emotion,\u2014but usually with bad success. He\nthen very soon speaks obscurely and confusedly; he exaggerates, makes\nomissions, and excites suspicion of the justice of his case: indeed, he\nhimself feels this suspicion, and the sudden changes into the coldest\nand most repulsive tones (which raise a doubt in the hearer as to his\npassionateness being genuine) are thereby explicable. With him emotion\nalways drowns the spirit; perhaps because it is stronger than in the\nformer. But he is at the height of his power when he resists the\nimpetuous storm of his feeling, and as it were scorns it; it is then\nonly that his spirit emerges fully from its concealment, a spirit\nlogical, mocking, and playful, but nevertheless awe-inspiring.\n\n\n 97.\n\n_The Loquacity of Authors._\u2014There is a loquacity of anger\u2014frequent in\nLuther, also in Schopenhauer. A loquacity which comes from too great a\nstore of conceptual formul\u00e6, as in Kant. A loquacity which comes from\ndelight in ever new modifications of the same idea: one finds it in\nMontaigne. A loquacity of malicious natures: whoever reads writings of\nour period will recollect two authors in this connection. A loquacity\nwhich comes from delight in fine words and forms of speech: by no means\nrare in Goethe's prose. A loquacity which comes from pure satisfaction\nin noise and confusion of feelings: for example in Carlyle.\n\n\n 98.\n\n_In Honour of Shakespeare._\u2014The best thing I could say in honour of\nShakespeare, _the man_, is that he believed in Brutus and cast not a\nshadow of suspicion on the kind of virtue which Brutus represents! It is\nto him that Shakespeare consecrated his best tragedy\u2014it is at present\nstill called by a wrong name,\u2014to him and to the most terrible essence of\nlofty morality. Independence of soul!\u2014that is the question at issue! No\nsacrifice can be too great there: one must be able to sacrifice to it\neven one's dearest friend, though he be also the grandest of men, the\nornament of the world, the genius without peer,\u2014if one really loves\nfreedom as the freedom of great souls, and if _this_ freedom be\nthreatened by him:\u2014it is thus that Shakespeare must have felt! The\nelevation in which he places C\u00e6sar is the most exquisite honour he could\nconfer upon Brutus; it is thus only that he lifts into vastness the\ninner problem of his hero, and similarly the strength of soul which\ncould cut _this knot_!\u2014And was it actually political freedom that\nimpelled the poet to sympathy with Brutus,\u2014and made him the accomplice\nof Brutus? Or was political freedom merely a symbol for something\ninexpressible? Do we perhaps stand before some sombre event or adventure\nof the poet's own soul, which has remained unknown, and of which he only\ncared to speak symbolically? What is all Hamlet-melancholy in comparison\nwith the melancholy of Brutus!\u2014and perhaps Shakespeare also knew this,\nas he knew the other, by experience! Perhaps he also had his dark hour\nand his bad angel, just as Brutus had them!\u2014But whatever similarities\nand secret relationships of that kind there may have been, Shakespeare\ncast himself on the ground and felt unworthy and alien in presence of\nthe aspect and virtue of Brutus:\u2014he has inscribed the testimony thereof\nin the tragedy itself. He has twice brought in a poet in it, and twice\nheaped upon him such an impatient and extreme contempt, that it sounds\nlike a cry,\u2014like the cry of self-contempt. Brutus, even Brutus loses\npatience when the poet appears, self-important, pathetic, and obtrusive,\nas poets usually are,\u2014persons who seem to abound in the possibilities of\ngreatness, even moral greatness, and nevertheless rarely attain even to\nordinary uprightness in the philosophy of practice and of life. \"He may\nknow the times, _but I know his temper_,\u2014away with the jigging\nfool!\"\u2014shouts Brutus. We may translate this back into the soul of the\npoet that composed it.\n\n\n 99.\n\n_The Followers of Schopenhauer._\u2014What one sees at the contact of\ncivilized peoples with barbarians,\u2014namely, that the lower civilization\nregularly accepts in the first place the vices, weaknesses, and excesses\nof the higher; then, from that point onward, feels the influence of a\ncharm; and finally, by means of the appropriated vices and weaknesses,\nalso allows something of the valuable influence of the higher culture to\nleaven it:\u2014one can also see this close at hand and without journeys to\nbarbarian peoples, to be sure, somewhat refined and spiritualised, and\nnot so readily palpable. What are the German followers of _Schopenhauer_\nstill accustomed to receive first of all from their master:\u2014those who,\nwhen placed beside his superior culture, must deem themselves\nsufficiently barbarous to be first of all barbarously fascinated and\nseduced by him. Is it his hard matter-of-fact sense, his inclination to\nclearness and rationality, which often makes him appear so English, and\nso unlike Germans? Or the strength of his intellectual conscience, which\n_endured_ a life-long contradiction of \"being\" and \"willing,\" and\ncompelled him to contradict himself constantly even in his writings on\nalmost every point? Or his purity in matters relating to the Church and\nthe Christian God?\u2014for here he was pure as no German philosopher had\nbeen hitherto, so that he lived and died \"as a Voltairian.\" Or his\nimmortal doctrines of the intellectuality of intuition, the apriority of\nthe law of causality, the instrumental nature of the intellect, and the\nnon-freedom of the will? No, nothing of this enchants, nor is felt as\nenchanting; but Schopenhauer's mystical embarrassments and shufflings in\nthose passages where the matter-of-fact thinker allowed himself to be\nseduced and corrupted by the vain impulse to be the unraveller of the\nworld's riddle: his undemonstrable doctrine of _one will_ (\"all causes\nare merely occasional causes of the phenomenon of the will at such a\ntime and at such a place,\" \"the will to live, whole and undivided, is\npresent in every being, even in the smallest, as perfectly as in the sum\nof all that was, is, and will be\"); his _denial of the individual_ (\"all\nlions are really only one lion,\" \"plurality of individuals is an\nappearance,\" as also _development_ is only an appearance: he calls the\nopinion of Lamarck \"an ingenious, absurd error\"); his fantasy about\n_genius_ (\"in \u00e6sthetic contemplation the individual is no longer an\nindividual, but a pure, will-less, painless, timeless subject of\nknowledge,\" \"the subject, in that it entirely merges in the contemplated\nobject, has become this object itself\"); his nonsense about _sympathy_,\nand about the outburst of the _principium individuationis_ thus rendered\npossible, as the source of all morality; including also such assertions\nas, \"dying is really the design of existence,\" \"the possibility should\nnot be absolutely denied that a magical effect could proceed from a\nperson already dead\":\u2014these, and similar _extravagances_ and vices of\nthe philosopher, are always first accepted and made articles of faith;\nfor vices and extravagances are always easiest to imitate, and do not\nrequire a long preliminary practice. But let us speak of the most\ncelebrated of the living Schopenhauerians, Richard Wagner.\u2014It has\nhappened to him as it has already happened to many an artist: he made a\nmistake in the interpretation of the characters he created, and\nmisunderstood the unexpressed philosophy of the art peculiarly his own.\nRichard Wagner allowed himself to be misled by Hegel's influence till\nthe middle of his life; and he did the same again when later on he read\nSchopenhauer's doctrine between the lines of his characters, and began\nto express himself with such terms as \"will,\" \"genius,\" and \"sympathy.\"\nNevertheless it will remain true that nothing is more counter to\nSchopenhauer's spirit than the essentially Wagnerian element in Wagner's\nheroes: I mean the innocence of the supremest selfishness, the belief in\nstrong passion as the good in itself, in a word, the Siegfried trait in\nthe countenances of his heroes. \"All that still smacks more of Spinoza\nthan of me,\"\u2014Schopenhauer would probably have said. Whatever good\nreasons, therefore, Wagner might have had to be on the outlook for other\nphilosophers than Schopenhauer, the enchantment to which he succumbed in\nrespect to this thinker, not only made him blind towards all other\nphilosophers, but even towards science itself; his entire art is more\nand more inclined to become the counterpart and complement of the\nSchopenhauerian philosophy, and it always renounces more emphatically\nthe higher ambition to become the counterpart and complement of human\nknowledge and science. And not only is he allured thereto by the whole\nmystic pomp of this philosophy (which would also have allured a\nCagliostro), the peculiar airs and emotions of the philosopher have all\nalong been seducing him as well! For example, Wagner's indignation about\nthe corruption of the German language is Schopenhauerian; and if one\nshould commend his imitation in this respect, it is nevertheless not to\nbe denied that Wagner's style itself suffers in no small degree from all\nthe tumours and turgidities, the sight of which made Schopenhauer so\nfurious; and that, in respect to the German-writing Wagnerians,\nWagneromania is beginning to be as dangerous as only some kinds of\nHegelomania have been. Schopenhauerian is Wagner's hatred of the Jews,\nto whom he is unable to do justice, even in their greatest exploit: are\nnot the Jews the inventors of Christianity! The attempt of Wagner to\nconstrue Christianity as a seed blown away from Buddhism, and his\nendeavour to initiate a Buddhistic era in Europe, under a temporary\napproximation to Catholic-Christian formulas and sentiments, are both\nSchopenhauerian. Wagner's preaching in favour of pity in dealing with\nanimals is Schopenhauerian; Schopenhauer's predecessor here, as is well\nknown, was Voltaire, who already perhaps, like his successors, knew how\nto disguise his hatred of certain men and things as pity towards\nanimals. At least Wagner's hatred of science, which manifests itself in\nhis preaching, has certainly not been inspired by the spirit of\ncharitableness and kindness\u2014nor by the _spirit_ at all, as is\nsufficiently obvious.\u2014Finally, it is of little importance what the\nphilosophy of an artist is, provided it is only a supplementary\nphilosophy, and does not do any injury to his art itself. We cannot be\nsufficiently on our guard against taking a dislike to an artist on\naccount of an occasional, perhaps very unfortunate and presumptuous\nmasquerade; let us not forget that the dear artists are all of them\nsomething of actors\u2014and must be so; it would be difficult for them to\nhold out in the long run without stage-playing. Let us be loyal to\nWagner in that which is _true_ and original in him,\u2014and especially in\nthis point, that we, his disciples, remain loyal to ourselves in that\nwhich is true and original in us. Let us allow him his intellectual\nhumours and spasms, let us in fairness rather consider what strange\nnutriments and necessaries an art like his _is entitled to_, in order to\nbe able to live and grow! It is of no account that he is often wrong as\na thinker; justice and patience are not _his_ affair. It is sufficient\nthat his life is right in his own eyes, and maintains its right,\u2014the\nlife which calls to each of us: \"Be a man, and do not follow me\u2014but\nthyself! thyself!\" _Our_ life, also ought to maintain its right in our\nown eyes! We also are to grow and blossom out of ourselves, free and\nfearless, in innocent selfishness! And so, on the contemplation of such\na man, these thoughts still ring in my ears to-day, as formerly: \"That\npassion is better than stoicism or hypocrisy; that straightforwardness,\neven in evil, is better than losing oneself in trying to observe\ntraditional morality; that the free man is just as able to be good as\nevil, but that the unemancipated man is a disgrace to nature, and has no\nshare in heavenly or earthly bliss; finally, that _all who wish to be\nfree must become so through themselves_, and that freedom falls to\nnobody's lot as a gift from Heaven.\" (_Richard Wagner in Bayreuth_, Vol.\nI. of this Translation, pp. 199-200).\n\n\n 100.\n\n_Learning to do Homage._\u2014One must learn the art of homage, as well as\nthe art of contempt. Whoever goes in new paths and has led many persons\ntherein, discovers with astonishment how awkward and incompetent all of\nthem are in the expression of their gratitude, and indeed how rarely\ngratitude _is able_ even to express itself. It is always as if something\ncomes into people's throats when their gratitude wants to speak, so that\nit only hems and haws, and becomes silent again. The way in which a\nthinker succeeds in tracing the effect of his thoughts, and their\ntransforming and convulsing power, is almost a comedy: it sometimes\nseems as if those who have been operated upon felt profoundly injured\nthereby, and could only assert their independence, which they suspect to\nbe threatened, by all kinds of improprieties. It needs whole generations\nin order merely to devise a courteous convention of gratefulness; it is\nonly very late that the period arrives when something of spirit and\ngenius enters into gratitude. Then there is usually some one who is the\ngreat receiver of thanks, not only for the good he himself has done, but\nmostly for that which has been gradually accumulated by his\npredecessors, as a treasure of what is highest and best.\n\n\n 101.\n\n_Voltaire._\u2014Wherever there has been a court, it has furnished the\nstandard of good-speaking, and with this also the standard of style for\nwriters. The court language, however, is the language of the courtier\nwho _has no profession_, and who even in conversations on scientific\nsubjects avoids all convenient, technical expressions, because they\nsmack of the profession; on that account the technical expression, and\neverything that betrays the specialist, is a _blemish of style_ in\ncountries which have a court culture. At present, when all courts have\nbecome caricatures of past and present times, one is astonished to find\neven Voltaire unspeakably reserved and scrupulous on this point (for\nexample, in his judgments concerning such stylists as Fontenelle and\nMontesquieu),\u2014we are now, all of us, emancipated from court taste, while\nVoltaire was its _perfecter_!\n\n\n 102.\n\n_A Word for Philologists._\u2014It is thought that there are books so\nvaluable and royal that whole generations of scholars are well employed\nwhen through their efforts these books are kept genuine and\nintelligible,\u2014to confirm this belief again and again is the purpose of\nphilology. It presupposes that the rare men are not lacking (though they\nmay not be visible), who actually know how to use such valuable\nbooks:\u2014those men perhaps who write such books themselves, or could write\nthem. I mean to say that philology presupposes a noble belief,\u2014that for\nthe benefit of some few who are always \"to come,\" and are not there, a\nvery great amount of painful, and even dirty labour has to be done\nbeforehand: it is all labour _in usum Delphinorum_.\n\n\n 103.\n\n_German Music._\u2014German music, more than any other, has now become\nEuropean music; because the changes which Europe experienced through the\nRevolution have therein alone found expression: it is only German music\nthat knows how to express the agitation of popular masses, the\ntremendous artificial uproar, which does not even need to be very\nnoisy,\u2014while Italian opera, for example, knows only the choruses of\ndomestics or soldiers, but not \"the people.\" There is the additional\nfact that in all German music a profound _bourgeois_ jealousy of the\n_noblesse_ can be traced, especially a jealousy of _esprit_ and\n_\u00e9l\u00e9gance_, as the expressions of a courtly, chivalrous, ancient, and\nself-confident society. It is not music like that of Goethe's musician\nat the gate, which was pleasing also \"in the hall,\" and to the king as\nwell; it is not here said: \"The knights looked on with martial air; with\nbashful eyes the ladies.\" Even the Graces are not allowed in German\nmusic without a touch of remorse; it is only with Pleasantness, the\ncountry sister of the Graces that the German begins to feel morally at\nease\u2014and from this point up to his enthusiastic, learned, and often\ngruff \"sublimity\" (the Beethoven-like sublimity), he feels more and more\nso. If we want to imagine the man of _this_ music,\u2014well, let us just\nimagine Beethoven as he appeared beside Goethe, say, at their meeting at\nTeplitz: as semi-barbarism beside culture, as the masses beside the\nnobility, as the good-natured man beside the good and more than \"good\"\nman, as the visionary beside the artist, as the man needing comfort\nbeside the comforted, as the man given to exaggeration and distrust\nbeside the man of reason, as the crank and self-tormenter, as the\nfoolish, enraptured, blessedly unfortunate, sincerely immoderate man, as\nthe pretentious and awkward man,\u2014and altogether as the \"untamed man\": it\nwas thus that Goethe conceived and characterised him, Goethe, the\nexceptional German, for whom a music of equal rank has not yet been\nfound!\u2014Finally, let us consider whether the present, continually\nextending contempt of melody and the stunting of the sense for melody\namong Germans should not be understood as a democratic impropriety and\nan after-effect of the Revolution? For melody has such an obvious\ndelight in conformity to law, and such an aversion to everything\nevolving, unformed and arbitrary, that it sounds like a note out of the\n_ancient_ European regime, and as a seduction and re-duction back to it.\n\n\n 104.\n\n_The Tone of the German Language._\u2014We know whence the German originated\nwhich for several centuries has been the universal, literary language of\nGermany. The Germans, with their reverence for everything that came from\nthe _court_, intentionally took the chancery style as their pattern in\nall that they had to _write_, especially in their letters, records,\nwills, &c. To write in the chancery style, that was to write in court\nand government style,\u2014that was regarded as something select compared\nwith the language of the city in which a person lived. People gradually\ndrew this inference, and spoke also as they wrote,\u2014they thus became\nstill more select in the forms of their words, in the choice of their\nterms and modes of expression, and finally also in their tones: they\naffected a court tone when they spoke, and the affectation at last\nbecame natural. Perhaps nothing quite similar has ever happened\nelsewhere:\u2014the predominance of the literary style over the talk, and the\nformality and affectation of an entire people, becoming the basis of a\ncommon and no longer dialectical language. I believe that the sound of\nthe German language in the Middle Ages, and especially after the Middle\nAges, was extremely rustic and vulgar; it has ennobled itself somewhat\nduring the last centuries, principally because it was found necessary to\nimitate so many French, Italian, and Spanish sounds, and particularly on\nthe part of the German (and Austrian) nobility, who could not at all\ncontent themselves with their mother-tongue. But notwithstanding this\npractice, German must have sounded intolerably vulgar to Montaigne, and\neven to Racine: even at present, in the mouths of travellers among the\nItalian populace, it still sounds very coarse, sylvan, and hoarse, as if\nit had originated in smoky rooms and outlandish districts.\u2014Now I notice\nthat at present a similar striving after selectness of tone is spreading\namong the former admirers of the chancery style, and that the Germans\nare beginning to accommodate themselves to a peculiar \"witchery of\nsound,\" which might in the long run become an actual danger to the\nGerman language,\u2014for one may seek in vain for more execrable sounds in\nEurope. Something mocking, cold, indifferent, and careless in the voice:\nthat is what at present sounds \"noble\" to the Germans\u2014and I hear the\napproval of this nobleness in the voices of young officials, teachers,\nwomen, and trades-people; indeed, even the little girls already imitate\nthis German of the officers. For the officer, and in fact the Prussian\nofficer is the inventor of these tones: this same officer, who, as\nsoldier and professional man possesses that admirable tact for modesty\nwhich the Germans as a whole might well imitate (German professors and\nmusicians included!). But as soon as he speaks and moves he is the most\nimmodest and inelegant figure in old Europe\u2014no doubt unconsciously to\nhimself! And unconsciously also to the good Germans, who gaze at him as\nthe man of the foremost and most select society, and willingly let him\n\"give them his tone.\" And indeed he gives it to them!\u2014in the first place\nit is the sergeant-majors and non-commissioned officers that imitate his\ntone and coarsen it. One should note the roars of command, with which\nthe German cities are absolutely surrounded at present, when there is\ndrilling at all the gates: what presumption, furious imperiousness, and\nmocking coldness speaks in this uproar! Could the Germans actually be a\nmusical people?\u2014It is certain that the Germans martialise themselves at\npresent in the tone of their language: it is probable that, being\nexercised to speak martially, they will finally write martially also.\nFor habituation to definite tones extends deeply into the\ncharacter:\u2014people soon have the words and modes of expression, and\nfinally also the thoughts which just suit these tones! Perhaps they\nalready write in the officers' style; perhaps I only read too little of\nwhat is at present written in Germany to know this. But one thing I know\nall the surer: the German public declarations which also reach places\nabroad, are not inspired by German music, but just by that new tone of\ntasteless arrogance. Almost in every speech of the foremost German\nstatesman, and even when he makes himself heard through his imperial\nmouth-piece, there is an accent which the ear of a foreigner repudiates\nwith aversion: but the Germans endure it,\u2014they endure themselves.\n\n\n 105.\n\n_The Germans as Artists._\u2014When once a German actually experiences\npassion (and not only, as is usual, the mere inclination to it), he then\nbehaves just as he must do in passion, and does not think further of his\nbehaviour. The truth is, however, that he then behaves very awkwardly\nand uglily, and as if destitute of rhythm and melody; so that onlookers\nare pained or moved thereby, but nothing more\u2014_unless_ he elevate\nhimself to the sublimity and enrapturedness of which certain passions\nare capable. Then even the German becomes _beautiful_. The perception of\nthe _height at which_ beauty begins to shed its charm even over Germans,\nraises German artists to the height, to the supreme height, and to the\nextravagances of passion: they have an actual, profound longing,\ntherefore, to get beyond, or at least to look beyond the ugliness and\nawkwardness\u2014into a better, easier, more southern, more sunny world. And\nthus their convulsions are often merely indications that they would like\nto _dance_: these poor bears in whom hidden nymphs and satyrs, and\nsometimes still higher divinities, carry on their game!\n\n\n 106.\n\n_Music as Advocate._\u2014\"I have a longing for a master of the musical art,\"\nsaid an innovator to his disciple, \"that he may learn from me my ideas\nand speak them more widely in his language: I shall thus be better able\nto reach men's ears and hearts. For by means of tones one can seduce men\nto every error and every truth: who could _refute_ a tone?\"\u2014\"You would,\ntherefore, like to be regarded as irrefutable?\" said his disciple. The\ninnovator answered: \"I should like the germ to become a tree. In order\nthat a doctrine may become a tree, it must be believed in for a\nconsiderable period; in order that it may be believed in it must be\nregarded as irrefutable. Storms and doubts and worms and wickedness are\nnecessary to the tree, that it may manifest its species and the strength\nof its germ; let it perish if it is not strong enough! But a germ is\nalways merely annihilated,\u2014not refuted!\"\u2014When he had said this, his\ndisciple called out impetuously: \"But I believe in your cause, and\nregard it as so strong that I will say everything against it, everything\nthat I still have in my heart.\"\u2014The innovator laughed to himself and\nthreatened the disciple with his finger. \"This kind of discipleship,\"\nsaid he then, \"is the best, but it is dangerous, and not every kind of\ndoctrine can stand it.\"\n\n\n 107.\n\n_Our Ultimate Gratitude to Art._\u2014If we had not approved of the Arts and\ninvented this sort of cult of the untrue, the insight into the general\nuntruth and falsity of things now given us by science\u2014an insight into\ndelusion and error as conditions of intelligent and sentient\nexistence\u2014would be quite unendurable. _Honesty_ would have disgust and\nsuicide in its train. Now, however, our honesty has a counterpoise which\nhelps us to escape such consequences;\u2014namely, Art, as the _good-will_ to\nillusion. We do not always restrain our eyes from rounding off and\nperfecting in imagination: and then it is no longer the eternal\nimperfection that we carry over the river of Becoming\u2014for we think we\ncarry a _goddess_, and are proud and artless in rendering this service.\nAs an \u00e6sthetic phenomenon existence is still _endurable_ to us; and by\nArt, eye and hand and above all the good conscience are given to us, _to\nbe able_ to make such a phenomenon out of ourselves. We must rest from\nourselves occasionally by contemplating and looking down upon ourselves,\nand by laughing or weeping _over_ ourselves from an artistic remoteness:\nwe must discover the _hero_, and likewise the _fool_, that is hidden in\nour passion for knowledge; we must now and then be joyful in our folly,\nthat we may continue to be joyful in our wisdom! And just because we are\nheavy and serious men in our ultimate depth, and are rather weights than\nmen, there is nothing that does us so much good as the _fool's cap and\nbells_: we need them in presence of ourselves\u2014we need all arrogant,\nsoaring, dancing, mocking, childish and blessed Art, in order not to\nlose the _free dominion over things_ which our ideal demands of us. It\nwould be _backsliding_ for us, with our susceptible integrity, to lapse\nentirely into morality, and actually become virtuous monsters and\nscarecrows, on account of the over-strict requirements which we here lay\ndown for ourselves. We ought also to _be able_ to stand _above_\nmorality, and not only stand with the painful stiffness of one who every\nmoment fears to slip and fall, but we should also be able to soar and\nplay above it! How could we dispense with Art for that purpose, how\ncould we dispense with the fool?\u2014And as long as you are still _ashamed_\nof yourselves in any way, you still do not belong to us!\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 8:\n\n Schiller's poem, \"The Veiled Image of Sais,\" is again referred to\n here.\u2014TR.\n\n\n\n\n BOOK THIRD\n\n\n 108.\n\n_New Struggles._\u2014After Buddha was dead people showed his shadow for\ncenturies afterwards in a cave,\u2014an immense frightful shadow. God is\ndead: but as the human race is constituted, there will perhaps be caves\nfor millenniums yet, in which people will show his shadow,\u2014And we\u2014we\nhave still to overcome his shadow!\n\n\n 109.\n\n_Let us be on our Guard._\u2014Let us be on our guard against thinking that\nthe world is a living being. Where could it extend itself? What could it\nnourish itself with? How could it grow and increase? We know tolerably\nwell what the organic is; and we are to reinterpret the emphatically\nderivative, tardy, rare and accidental, which we only perceive on the\ncrust of the earth, into the essential, universal and eternal, as those\ndo who call the universe an organism? That disgusts me. Let us now be on\nour guard against believing that the universe is a machine; it is\nassuredly not constructed with a view to _one_ end; we invest it with\nfar too high an honour with the word \"machine.\" Let us be on our guard\nagainst supposing that anything so methodical as the cyclic motions of\nour neighbouring stars obtains generally and throughout the universe;\nindeed a glance at the Milky Way induces doubt as to whether there are\nnot many cruder and more contradictory motions there, and even stars\nwith continuous, rectilinearly gravitating orbits, and the like. The\nastral arrangement in which we live is an exception; this arrangement,\nand the relatively long durability which is determined by it, has again\nmade possible the exception of exceptions, the formation of organic\nlife. The general character of the world, on the other hand, is to all\neternity chaos; not by the absence of necessity, but in the sense of the\nabsence of order, structure, form, beauty, wisdom, and whatever else our\n\u00e6sthetic humanities are called. Judged by our reason, the unlucky casts\nare far oftenest the rule, the exceptions are not the secret purpose;\nand the whole musical box repeats eternally its air, which can never be\ncalled a melody,\u2014and finally the very expression, \"unlucky cast\" is\nalready an anthropomorphising which involves blame. But how could we\npresume to blame or praise the universe! Let us be on our guard against\nascribing to it heartlessness and unreason, or their opposites; it is\nneither perfect, nor beautiful, nor noble; nor does it seek to be\nanything of the kind, it does not at all attempt to imitate man! It is\naltogether unaffected by our \u00e6sthetic and moral judgments! Neither has\nit any self-preservative instinct, nor instinct at all; it also knows no\nlaw. Let us be on our guard against saying that there are laws in\nnature. There are only necessities: there is no one who commands, no one\nwho obeys, no one who transgresses. When you know that there is no\ndesign, you know also that there is no chance: for it is only where\nthere is a world of design that the word \"chance\" has a meaning. Let us\nbe on our guard against saying that death is contrary to life. The\nliving being is only a species of dead being, and a very rare\nspecies.\u2014Let us be on our guard against thinking that the world\neternally creates the new. There are no eternally enduring substances;\nmatter is just another such error as the God of the Eleatics. But when\nshall we be at an end with our foresight and precaution! When will all\nthese shadows of God cease to obscure us? When shall we have nature\nentirely undeified! When shall we be permitted to _naturalise_ ourselves\nby means of the pure, newly discovered, newly redeemed nature?\n\n\n 110.\n\n_Origin of Knowledge._\u2014Throughout immense stretches of time the\nintellect has produced nothing but errors; some of them proved to be\nuseful and preservative of the species: he who fell in with them, or\ninherited them, waged the battle for himself and his offspring with\nbetter success. Those erroneous articles of faith which were\nsuccessively transmitted by inheritance, and have finally become almost\nthe property and stock of the human species, are, for example, the\nfollowing:\u2014that there are enduring things, that there are equal things,\nthat there are things, substances, and bodies, that a thing is what it\nappears, that our will is free, that what is good for me is also good\nabsolutely. It was only very late that the deniers and doubters of such\npropositions came forward,\u2014it was only very late that truth made its\nappearance as the most impotent form of knowledge. It seemed as if it\nwere impossible to get along with truth, our organism was adapted for\nthe very opposite; all its higher functions, the perceptions of the\nsenses, and in general every kind of sensation co-operated with those\nprimevally embodied, fundamental errors. Moreover, those propositions\nbecame the very standards of knowledge according to which the \"true\" and\nthe \"false\" were determined\u2014throughout the whole domain of pure logic.\nThe _strength_ of conceptions does not, therefore, depend on their\ndegree of truth, but on their antiquity, their embodiment, their\ncharacter as conditions of life. Where life and knowledge seemed to\nconflict, there has never been serious contention; denial and doubt have\nthere been regarded as madness. The exceptional thinkers like the\nEleatics, who, in spite of this, advanced and maintained the antitheses\nof the natural errors, believed that it was possible also _to live_\nthese counterparts: it was they who devised the sage as the man of\nimmutability, impersonality and universality of intuition, as one and\nall at the same time, with a special faculty for that reverse kind of\nknowledge; they were of the belief that their knowledge was at the same\ntime the principle of _life_. To be able to affirm all this, however,\nthey had to _deceive_ themselves concerning their own condition: they\nhad to attribute to themselves impersonality and unchanging permanence,\nthey had to mistake the nature of the philosophic individual, deny the\nforce of the impulses in cognition, and conceive of reason generally as\nan entirely free and self-originating activity; they kept their eyes\nshut to the fact that they also had reached their doctrines in\ncontradiction to valid methods, or through their longing for repose or\nfor exclusive possession or for domination. The subtler development of\nsincerity and of scepticism finally made these men impossible; their\nlife also and their judgments turned out to be dependent on the primeval\nimpulses and fundamental errors of all sentient being.\u2014The subtler\nsincerity and scepticism arose whenever two antithetical maxims appeared\nto be _applicable_ to life, because both of them were compatible with\nthe fundamental errors; where, therefore, there could be contention\nconcerning a higher or lower degree of _utility_ for life; and likewise\nwhere new maxims proved to be, not in fact useful, but at least not\ninjurious, as expressions of an intellectual impulse to play a game that\nwas, like all games, innocent and happy. The human brain was gradually\nfilled with such judgments and convictions; and in this tangled skein\nthere arose ferment, strife and lust for power. Not only utility and\ndelight, but every kind of impulse took part in the struggle for\n\"truths\": the intellectual struggle became a business, an attraction, a\ncalling, a duty, an honour\u2014: cognizing and striving for the true finally\narranged themselves as needs among other needs. From that moment, not\nonly belief and conviction, but also examination, denial, distrust and\ncontradiction became _forces_; all \"evil\" instincts were subordinated to\nknowledge, were placed in its service, and acquired the prestige of the\npermitted, the honoured, the useful, and finally the appearance and\ninnocence of the _good_. Knowledge, thus became a portion of life\nitself, and as life it became a continually growing power: until finally\nthe cognitions and those primeval, fundamental, errors clashed with each\nother, both as life, both as power, both in the same man. The thinker is\nnow the being in whom the impulse to truth and those life-preserving\nerrors wage their first conflict, now that the impulse to truth has also\n_proved_ itself to be a life-preserving power. In comparison with the\nimportance of this conflict everything else is indifferent; the final\nquestion concerning the conditions of life is here raised, and the first\nattempt is here made to answer it by experiment. How far is truth\nsusceptible of embodiment?\u2014that is the question, that is the experiment.\n\n\n 111.\n\n_Origin of the Logical._\u2014Where has logic originated in men's heads?\nUndoubtedly out of the illogical, the domain of which must originally\nhave been immense. But numberless beings who reasoned otherwise than we\ndo at present, perished; albeit that they may have come nearer to truth\nthan we! Whoever, for example, could not discern the \"like\" often enough\nwith regard to food, and with regard to animals dangerous to him,\nwhoever, therefore, deduced too slowly, or was too circumspect in his\ndeductions, had smaller probability of survival than he who in all\nsimilar things immediately divined the equality. The preponderating\ninclination, however, to deal with the similar as the equal\u2014an illogical\ninclination, for there is nothing equal in itself\u2014first created the\nwhole basis of logic. It was just so (in order that the conception of\nsubstance might originate, this being indispensable to logic, although\nin the strictest sense nothing actual corresponds to it) that for a long\nperiod the changing process in things had to be overlooked, and remain\nunperceived; the beings not seeing correctly had an advantage over those\nwho saw everything \"in flux.\" In itself every high degree of\ncircumspection in conclusions, every sceptical inclination, is a great\ndanger to life. No living being would have been preserved unless the\ncontrary inclination\u2014to affirm rather than suspend judgment, to mistake\nand fabricate rather than wait, to assent rather than deny, to decide\nrather than be in the right\u2014had been cultivated with extraordinary\nassiduity.\u2014The course of logical thought and reasoning in our modern\nbrain corresponds to a process and struggle of impulses, which singly\nand in themselves are all very illogical and unjust; we experience\nusually only the result of the struggle, so rapidly and secretly does\nthis primitive mechanism now operate in us.\n\n\n 112.\n\n_Cause and Effect._\u2014We say it is \"explanation\"; but it is only in\n\"description\" that we are in advance of the older stages of knowledge\nand science. We describe better,\u2014we explain just as little as our\npredecessors. We have discovered a manifold succession where the na\u00efve\nman and investigator of older cultures saw only two things, \"cause\" and\n\"effect,\" as it was said; we have perfected the conception of becoming,\nbut have not got a knowledge of what is above and behind the conception.\nThe series of \"causes\" stands before us much more complete in every\ncase; we conclude that this and that must first precede in order that\nthat other may follow\u2014but we have not _grasped_ anything thereby. The\npeculiarity, for example, in every chemical process seems a \"miracle,\"\nthe same as before, just like all locomotion; nobody has \"explained\"\nimpulse. How could we ever explain! We operate only with things which do\nnot exist, with lines, surfaces, bodies, atoms, divisible times,\ndivisible spaces\u2014how can explanation ever be possible when we first make\neverything a _conception_, our conception! It is sufficient to regard\nscience as the exactest humanising of things that is possible; we always\nlearn to describe ourselves more accurately by describing things and\ntheir successions. Cause and effect: there is probably never any such\nduality; in fact there is a _continuum_ before us, from which we isolate\na few portions;\u2014just as we always observe a motion as isolated points,\nand therefore do not properly see it, but infer it. The abruptness with\nwhich many effects take place leads us into error; it is however only an\nabruptness for us. There is an infinite multitude of processes in that\nabrupt moment which escape us. An intellect which could see cause and\neffect as a _continuum_, which could see the flux of events not\naccording to our mode of perception, as things arbitrarily separated and\nbroken\u2014would throw aside the conception of cause and effect, and would\ndeny all conditionality.\n\n\n 113.\n\n_The Theory of Poisons._\u2014So many things have to be united in order that\nscientific thinking may arise, and all the necessary powers must have\nbeen devised, exercised, and fostered singly! In their isolation,\nhowever, they have very often had quite a different effect than at\npresent, when they are confined within the limits of scientific thinking\nand kept mutually in check:\u2014they have operated as poisons; for example,\nthe doubting impulse, the denying impulse, the waiting impulse, the\ncollecting impulse, the disintegrating impulse. Many hecatombs of men\nwere sacrificed ere these impulses learned to understand their\njuxtaposition and regard themselves as functions of one organising force\nin one man! And how far are we still from the point at which the\nartistic powers and the practical wisdom of life shall co-operate with\nscientific thinking, so that a higher organic system may be formed, in\nrelation to which the scholar, the physician, the artist, and the\nlawgiver, as we know them at present, will seem sorry antiquities!\n\n\n 114.\n\n_The Extent of the Moral._\u2014We construct a new picture, which we see\nimmediately with the aid of all the old experiences which we have had,\n_always according to the degree_ of our honesty and justice. The only\nevents are moral events, even in the domain of sense-perception.\n\n\n 115.\n\n_The Four Errors._\u2014Man has been reared by his errors: firstly, he saw\nhimself always imperfect; secondly, he attributed to himself imaginary\nqualities; thirdly, he felt himself in a false position in relation to\nthe animals and nature; fourthly, he always devised new tables of\nvalues, and accepted them for a time as eternal and unconditioned, so\nthat at one time this, and at another time that human impulse or state\nstood first, and was ennobled in consequence. When one has deducted the\neffect of these four errors, one has also deducted humanity, humaneness,\nand \"human dignity.\"\n\n\n 116.\n\n_Herd-Instinct._\u2014Wherever we meet with a morality we find a valuation\nand order of rank of the human impulses and activities. These valuations\nand orders of rank are always the expression of the needs of a community\nor herd: that which is in the first place to _its_ advantage\u2014and in the\nsecond place and third place\u2014is also the authoritative standard for the\nworth of every individual. By morality the individual is taught to\nbecome a function of the herd, and to ascribe to himself value only as a\nfunction. As the conditions for the maintenance of one community have\nbeen very different from those of another community, there have been\nvery different moralities; and in respect to the future essential\ntransformations of herds and communities, states and societies, one can\nprophesy that there will still be very divergent moralities. Morality is\nthe herd-instinct in the individual.\n\n\n 117.\n\n_The Herd's Sting of Conscience._\u2014In the longest and remotest ages of\nthe human race there was quite a different sting of conscience from that\nof the present day. At present one only feels responsible for what one\nintends and for what one does, and we have our pride in ourselves. All\nour professors of jurisprudence start with this sentiment of individual\nindependence and pleasure, as if the source of right had taken its rise\nhere from the beginning. But throughout the longest period in the life\nof mankind there was nothing more terrible to a person than to feel\nhimself independent. To be alone, to feel independent, neither to obey\nnor to rule, to represent an individual\u2014that was no pleasure to a person\nthen, but a punishment; he was condemned \"to be an individual.\" Freedom\nof thought was regarded as discomfort personified. While we feel law and\nregulation as constraint and loss, people formerly regarded egoism as a\npainful thing, and a veritable evil. For a person to be himself, to\nvalue himself according to his own measure and weight\u2014that was then\nquite distasteful. The inclination to such a thing would have been\nregarded as madness; for all miseries and terrors were associated with\nbeing alone. At that time the \"free will\" had bad conscience in close\nproximity to it; and the less independently a person acted, the more the\nherd-instinct, and not his personal character, expressed itself in his\nconduct, so much the more moral did he esteem himself. All that did\ninjury to the herd, whether the individual had intended it or not, then\ncaused him a sting of conscience\u2014and his neighbour likewise, indeed the\nwhole herd!\u2014It is in this respect that we have most changed our mode of\nthinking.\n\n\n 118.\n\n_Benevolence._\u2014Is it virtuous when a cell transforms itself into the\nfunction of a stronger cell? It must do so. And is it wicked when the\nstronger one assimilates the other? It must do so likewise: it is\nnecessary, for it has to have abundant indemnity and seeks to regenerate\nitself. One has therefore to distinguish the instinct of appropriation,\nand the instinct of submission, in benevolence, according as the\nstronger or the weaker feels benevolent. Gladness and covetousness are\nunited in the stronger person, who wants to transform something to his\nfunction: gladness and desire-to-be-coveted in the weaker person, who\nwould like to become a function.\u2014The former case is essentially pity, a\npleasant excitation of the instinct of appropriation at the sight of the\nweaker: it is to be remembered, however, that \"strong\" and \"weak\" are\nrelative conceptions.\n\n\n 119.\n\n_No Altruism!_\u2014I see in many men an excessive impulse and delight in\nwanting to be a function; they strive after it, and have the keenest\nscent for all those positions in which precisely _they_ themselves can\nbe functions. Among such persons are those women who transform\nthemselves into just that function of a man that is but weakly developed\nin him, and then become his purse, or his politics, or his social\nintercourse. Such beings maintain themselves best when they insert\nthemselves in an alien organism; if they do not succeed they become\nvexed, irritated, and eat themselves up.\n\n\n 120.\n\n_Health of the Soul._\u2014The favourite medico-moral formula (whose\noriginator was Ariston of Chios), \"Virtue is the health of the soul,\"\nwould, at least in order to be used, have to be altered to this: \"Thy\nvirtue is the health of thy soul.\" For there is no such thing as health\nin itself, and all attempts to define a thing in that way have\nlamentably failed. It is necessary to know thy aim, thy horizon, thy\npowers, thy impulses, thy errors, and especially the ideals and\nfantasies of thy soul, in order to determine _what_ health implies even\nfor thy _body_. There are consequently innumerable kinds of physical\nhealth; and the more one again permits the unique and unparalleled to\nraise its head, the more one unlearns the dogma of the \"Equality of\nmen,\" so much the more also must the conception of a normal health,\ntogether with a normal diet and a normal course of disease, be abrogated\nby our physicians. And then only would it be time to turn our thoughts\nto the health and disease of the _soul_ and make the special virtue of\neveryone consist in its health; but, to be sure, what appeared as health\nin one person might appear as the contrary of health in another. In the\nend the great question might still remain open: whether we could _do\nwithout_ sickness, even for the development of our virtue, and whether\nour thirst for knowledge and self-knowledge would not especially need\nthe sickly soul as well as the sound one; in short, whether the mere\nwill to health is not a prejudice, a cowardice, and perhaps an instance\nof the subtlest barbarism and unprogressiveness.\n\n\n 121.\n\n_Life no Argument._\u2014We have arranged for ourselves a world in which we\ncan live\u2014by the postulating of bodies, lines, surfaces, causes and\neffects, motion and rest, form and content: without these articles of\nfaith no one could manage to live at present! But for all that they are\nstill unproved. Life is no argument; error might be among the conditions\nof life.\n\n\n 122.\n\n_The Element of Moral Scepticism in Christianity._\u2014Christianity also has\nmade a great contribution to enlightenment, and has taught moral\nscepticism in a very impressive and effective manner\u2014accusing and\nembittering, but with untiring patience and subtlety; it annihilated in\nevery individual the belief in his virtues: it made the great virtuous\nones, of whom antiquity had no lack, vanish for ever from the earth,\nthose popular men, who, in the belief in their perfection, walked about\nwith the dignity of a hero of the bull-fight. When, trained in this\nChristian school of scepticism, we now read the moral books of the\nancients, for example those of Seneca and Epictetus, we feel a\npleasurable superiority, and are full of secret insight and\npenetration,\u2014it seems to us as if a child talked before an old man, or a\npretty, gushing girl before La Rochefoucauld:\u2014we know better what virtue\nis! After all, however, we have applied the same scepticism to all\n_religious_ states and processes, such as sin, repentance, grace,\nsanctification, &c., and have allowed the worm to burrow so well, that\nwe have now the same feeling of subtle superiority and insight even in\nreading all Christian books:\u2014we know also the religious feelings better!\nAnd it is time to know them well and describe them well, for the pious\nones of the old belief die out also; let us save their likeness and\ntype, at least for the sake of knowledge.\n\n\n 123.\n\n_Knowledge more than a Means._\u2014Also _without_ this passion\u2014I refer to\nthe passion for knowledge\u2014science would be furthered: science has\nhitherto increased and grown up without it. The good faith in science,\nthe prejudice in its favour, by which States are at present dominated\n(it was even the Church formerly), rests fundamentally on the fact that\nthe absolute inclination and impulse has so rarely revealed itself in\nit, and that science is regarded _not_ as a passion, but as a condition\nand an \"ethos.\" Indeed, _amour-plaisir_ of knowledge (curiosity) often\nenough suffices, _amour-vanit\u00e9_ suffices, and habituation to it, with\nthe afterthought of obtaining honour and bread; it even suffices for\nmany that they do not know what to do with a surplus of leisure, except\nto continue reading, collecting, arranging, observing and narrating;\ntheir \"scientific impulse\" is their ennui. Pope Leo X. once (in the\nbrief to Beroaldus) sang the praise of science; he designated it as the\nfinest ornament and the greatest pride of our life, a noble employment\nin happiness and in misfortune; \"without it,\" he says finally, \"all\nhuman undertakings would be without a firm basis,\u2014even with it they are\nstill sufficiently mutable and insecure!\" But this rather sceptical\nPope, like all other ecclesiastical panegyrists of science, suppressed\nhis ultimate judgment concerning it. If one may deduce from his words\nwhat is remarkable enough for such a lover of art, that he places\nscience above art, it is after all, however, only from politeness that\nhe omits to speak of that which he places high above all science: the\n\"revealed truth,\" and the \"eternal salvation of the soul,\"\u2014what are\nornament, pride, entertainment and security of life to him, in\ncomparison thereto? \"Science is something of secondary rank, nothing\nultimate or unconditioned, no object of passion\"\u2014this judgment was kept\nback in Leo's soul: the truly Christian judgment concerning science! In\nantiquity its dignity and appreciation were lessened by the fact that,\neven among its most eager disciples, the striving after _virtue_ stood\nforemost, and that people thought they had given the highest praise to\nknowledge when they celebrated it as the best means to virtue. It is\nsomething new in history that knowledge claims to be more than a means.\n\n\n 124.\n\n_In the Horizon of the Infinite._\u2014We have left the land and have gone\naboard ship! We have broken down the bridge behind us,\u2014nay, more, the\nland behind us! Well, little ship! look out! Beside thee is the ocean;\nit is true it does not always roar, and sometimes it spreads out like\nsilk and gold and a gentle reverie. But times will come when thou wilt\nfeel that it is infinite, and that there is nothing more frightful than\ninfinity. Oh, the poor bird that felt itself free, and now strikes\nagainst the walls of this cage! Alas, if homesickness for the land\nshould attack thee, as if there had been more _freedom_ there,\u2014and there\nis no \"land\" any longer!\n\n\n 125.\n\n_The Madman._\u2014Have you ever heard of the madman who on a bright morning\nlighted a lantern and ran to the market-place calling out unceasingly:\n\"I seek God! I seek God!\"\u2014As there were many people standing about who\ndid not believe in God, he caused a great deal of amusement. Why! is he\nlost? said one. Has he strayed away like a child? said another. Or does\nhe keep himself hidden? Is he afraid of us? Has he taken a sea-voyage?\nHas he emigrated?\u2014the people cried out laughingly, all in a hubbub. The\ninsane man jumped into their midst and transfixed them with his glances.\n\"Where is God gone?\" he called out. \"I mean to tell you! _We have killed\nhim_,\u2014you and I! We are all his murderers! But how have we done it? How\nwere we able to drink up the sea? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away\nthe whole horizon? What did we do when we loosened this earth from its\nsun? Whither does it now move? Whither do we move? Away from all suns?\nDo we not dash on unceasingly? Backwards, sideways, forwards, in all\ndirections? Is there still an above and below? Do we not stray, as\nthrough infinite nothingness? Does not empty space breathe upon us? Has\nit not become colder? Does not night come on continually, darker and\ndarker? Shall we not have to light lanterns in the morning? Do we not\nhear the noise of the grave-diggers who are burying God? Do we not smell\nthe divine putrefaction?\u2014for even Gods putrefy! God is dead! God remains\ndead! And we have killed him! How shall we console ourselves, the most\nmurderous of all murderers? The holiest and the mightiest that the world\nhas hitherto possessed, has bled to death under our knife,\u2014who will wipe\nthe blood from us? With what water could we cleanse ourselves? What\nlustrums, what sacred games shall we have to devise? Is not the\nmagnitude of this deed too great for us? Shall we not ourselves have to\nbecome Gods, merely to seem worthy of it? There never was a greater\nevent,\u2014and on account of it, all who are born after us belong to a\nhigher history than any history hitherto!\"\u2014Here the madman was silent\nand looked again at his hearers; they also were silent and looked at him\nin surprise. At last he threw his lantern on the ground, so that it\nbroke in pieces and was extinguished. \"I come too early,\" he then said,\n\"I am not yet at the right time. This prodigious event is still on its\nway, and is travelling,\u2014it has not yet reached men's ears. Lightning and\nthunder need time, the light of the stars needs time, deeds need time,\neven after they are done, to be seen and heard. This deed is as yet\nfurther from them than the furthest star,\u2014_and yet they have done\nit!_\"\u2014It is further stated that the madman made his way into different\nchurches on the same day, and there intoned his _Requiem aeternam deo_.\nWhen led out and called to account, he always gave the reply: \"What are\nthese churches now, if they are not the tombs and monuments of God?\"\u2014\n\n\n 126.\n\n_Mystical Explanations._\u2014Mystical explanations are regarded as profound;\nthe truth is that they do not even go the length of being superficial.\n\n\n 127.\n\n_After-Effect of the most Ancient Religiousness._\u2014The thoughtless man\nthinks that the Will is the only thing that operates, that willing is\nsomething simple, manifestly given, underived, and comprehensible in\nitself. He is convinced that when he does anything, for example, when he\ndelivers a blow, it is _he_ who strikes, and he has struck because he\n_willed_ to strike. He does not notice anything of a problem therein,\nbut the feeling of _willing_ suffices to him, not only for the\nacceptance of cause and effect, but also for the belief that he\n_understands_ their relationship. Of the mechanism of the occurrence and\nof the manifold subtle operations that must be performed in order that\nthe blow may result, and likewise of the incapacity of the Will in\nitself to effect even the smallest part of those operations\u2014he knows\nnothing. The Will is to him a magically operating force; the belief in\nthe Will as the cause of effects is the belief in magically operating\nforces. In fact, whenever he saw anything happen, man originally\nbelieved in a Will as cause, and in personally _willing_ beings\noperating in the background,\u2014the conception of mechanism was very remote\nfrom him. Because, however, man for immense periods of time believed\nonly in persons (and not in matter, forces, things, &c.), the belief in\ncause and effect has become a fundamental belief with him, which he\napplies everywhere when anything happens,\u2014and even still uses\ninstinctively as a piece of atavism of remotest origin. The\npropositions, \"No effect without a cause,\" and \"Every effect again\nimplies a cause,\" appear as generalisations of several less general\npropositions:\u2014\"Where there is operation there has been _willing_,\"\n\"Operating is only possible on _willing_ beings.\" \"There is never a\npure, resultless experience of activity, but every experience involves\nstimulation of the Will\" (to activity, defence, revenge or retaliation).\nBut in the primitive period of the human race, the latter and the former\npropositions were identical, the first were not generalisations of the\nsecond, but the second were explanations of the first.\u2014Schopenhauer,\nwith his assumption that all that exists is something _volitional_, has\nset a primitive mythology on the throne; he seems never to have\nattempted an analysis of the Will, because he _believed_ like everybody\nin the simplicity and immediateness of all volition:\u2014while volition is\nin fact such a cleverly practised mechanical process that it almost\nescapes the observing eye. I set the following propositions against\nthose of Schopenhauer:\u2014Firstly, in order that Will may arise, an idea of\npleasure and pain is necessary. Secondly, that a vigorous excitation may\nbe felt as pleasure or pain, is the affair of the _interpreting_\nintellect, which, to be sure, operates thereby for the most part\nunconsciously to us, and one and the same excitation _may_ be\ninterpreted as pleasure or pain. Thirdly, it is only in an intellectual\nbeing that there is pleasure, displeasure and Will; the immense majority\nof organisms have nothing of the kind.\n\n\n 128.\n\n_The Value of Prayer._\u2014Prayer has been devised for such men as have\nnever any thoughts of their own, and to whom an elevation of the soul is\nunknown, or passes unnoticed; what shall these people do in holy places\nand in all important situations in life which require repose and some\nkind of dignity? In order at least that they may not _disturb_, the\nwisdom of all the founders of religions, the small as well as the great,\nhas commended to them the formula of prayer, as a long mechanical labour\nof the lips, united with an effort of the memory, and with a uniform,\nprescribed attitude of hands and feet\u2014_and_ eyes! They may then, like\nthe Tibetans, chew the cud of their \"_om mane padme hum_,\" innumerable\ntimes, or, as in Benares, count the name of God Ram-Ram-Ram (and so on,\nwith or without grace) on their fingers; or honour Vishnu with his\nthousand names of invocation, Allah with his ninety-nine; or they may\nmake use of the prayer-wheels and the rosary: the main thing is that\nthey are settled down for a time at this work, and present a tolerable\nappearance; their mode of prayer is devised for the advantage of the\npious who have thought and elevation of their own. But even these have\ntheir weary hours when a series of venerable words and sounds and a\nmechanical, pious ritual does them good. But supposing that these rare\nmen\u2014in every religion the religious man is an exception\u2014know how to help\nthemselves, the poor in spirit do not know, and to forbid them the\nprayer-babbling would mean to take their religion from them, a fact\nwhich Protestantism brings more and more to light. All that religion\nwants with such persons is that they should _keep still_ with their\neyes, hands, legs, and all their organs: they thereby become temporarily\nbeautified and\u2014more human-looking!\n\n\n 129.\n\n_The Conditions for God._\u2014\"God himself cannot subsist without wise men,\"\nsaid Luther, and with good reason; but \"God can still less subsist\nwithout unwise men,\"\u2014good Luther did not say that!\n\n\n 130.\n\n_A Dangerous Resolution._\u2014The Christian resolution to find the world\nugly and bad has made the world ugly and bad.\n\n\n 131.\n\n_Christianity and Suicide._\u2014Christianity made use of the excessive\nlonging for suicide at the time of its origin as a lever for its power:\nit left only two forms of suicide, invested them with the highest\ndignity and the highest hopes, and forbade all others in a dreadful\nmanner. But martyrdom and the slow self-annihilation of the ascetic were\npermitted.\n\n\n 132.\n\n_Against Christianity._\u2014It is now no longer our reason, but our taste\nthat decides against Christianity.\n\n\n 133.\n\n_Axioms._\u2014An unavoidable hypothesis on which mankind must always fall\nback again, is, in the long run, _more powerful_ than the most firmly\nbelieved belief in something untrue (like the Christian belief). In the\nlong run: that means a hundred thousand years from now.\n\n\n 134.\n\n_Pessimists as Victims._\u2014When a profound dislike of existence gets the\nupper hand, the after-effect of a great error in diet of which a people\nhas been long guilty comes to light. The spread of Buddhism (_not_ its\norigin) is thus to a considerable extent dependent on the excessive and\nalmost exclusive rice-fare of the Indians, and on the universal\nenervation that results therefrom. Perhaps the modern, European\ndiscontentedness is to be looked upon as caused by the fact that the\nworld of our forefathers, the whole Middle Ages, was given to drink,\nowing to the influence of German tastes in Europe: the Middle Ages, that\nmeans the alcoholic poisoning of Europe.\u2014The German dislike of life\n(including the influence of the cellar-air and stove-poison in German\ndwellings), is essentially a cold-weather complaint.\n\n\n 135.\n\n_Origin of Sin._\u2014Sin, as it is at present felt wherever Christianity\nprevails or has prevailed, is a Jewish feeling and a Jewish invention;\nand in respect to this background of all Christian morality,\nChristianity has in fact aimed at \"Judaising\" the whole world. To what\nan extent this has succeeded in Europe is traced most accurately in the\nextent of our alienness to Greek antiquity\u2014a world without the feeling\nof sin\u2014in our sentiments even at present; in spite of all the good will\nto approximation and assimilation, which whole generations and many\ndistinguished individuals have not failed to display. \"Only when thou\n_repentest_ is God gracious to thee\"\u2014that would arouse the laughter or\nthe wrath of a Greek: he would say, \"Slaves may have such sentiments.\"\nHere a mighty being, an almighty being, and yet a revengeful being, is\npresupposed; his power is so great that no injury whatever can be done\nto him, except in the point of honour. Every sin is an infringement of\nrespect, a _crimen l\u00e6s\u00e6 majestatis divin\u00e6_\u2014and nothing more! Contrition,\ndegradation, rolling-in-the-dust,\u2014these are the first and last\nconditions on which his favour depends: the restoration, therefore, of\nhis divine honour! If injury be caused otherwise by sin, if a profound,\nspreading evil be propagated by it, an evil which, like a disease,\nattacks and strangles one man after another\u2014that does not trouble this\nhonour-craving Oriental in heaven; sin is an offence against him, not\nagainst mankind!\u2014to him on whom he has bestowed his favour he bestows\nalso this indifference to the natural consequences of sin. God and\nmankind are here thought of as separated, as so antithetical that sin\nagainst the latter cannot be at all possible,\u2014all deeds are to be looked\nupon _solely with respect to their supernatural consequences_, and not\nwith respect to their natural results: it is thus that the Jewish\nfeeling, to which all that is natural seems unworthy in itself, would\nhave things. The _Greeks_, on the other hand, were more familiar with\nthe thought that transgression also may have dignity,\u2014even theft, as in\nthe case of Prometheus, even the slaughtering of cattle as the\nexpression of frantic jealousy, as in the case of Ajax; in their need to\nattribute dignity to transgression and embody it therein, they invented\n_tragedy_,\u2014an art and a delight, which in its profoundest essence has\nremained alien to the Jew, in spite of all his poetic endowment and\ntaste for the sublime.\n\n\n 136.\n\n_The Chosen People._\u2014The Jews, who regard themselves as the chosen\npeople among the nations, and that too because they are the moral genius\namong the nations (in virtue of their capacity for _despising_ the human\nin themselves _more_ than any other people)\u2014the Jews have a pleasure in\ntheir divine monarch and saint similar to that which the French nobility\nhad in Louis XIV. This nobility had allowed its power and autocracy to\nbe taken from it, and had become contemptible: in order not to feel\nthis, in order to be able to forget it, an _unequalled_ royal\nmagnificence, royal authority and plenitude of power was needed, to\nwhich there was access only for the nobility. As in accordance with this\nprivilege they raised themselves to the elevation of the court, and from\nthat elevation saw everything under them,\u2014saw everything\ncontemptible,\u2014they got beyond all uneasiness of conscience. They thus\nelevated intentionally the tower of the royal power more and more into\nthe clouds, and set the final coping-stone of their own power thereon.\n\n\n 137.\n\n_Spoken in Parable._\u2014A Jesus Christ was only possible in a Jewish\nlandscape\u2014I mean in one over which the gloomy and sublime thunder-cloud\nof the angry Jehovah hung continually. Here only was the rare, sudden\nflashing of a single sunbeam through the dreadful, universal and\ncontinuous nocturnal-day regarded as a miracle of \"love,\" as a beam of\nthe most unmerited \"grace.\" Here only could Christ dream of his rainbow\nand celestial ladder on which God descended to man; everywhere else the\nclear weather and the sun were considered the rule and the commonplace.\n\n\n 138.\n\n_The Error of Christ._\u2014The founder of Christianity thought there was\nnothing from which men suffered so much as from their sins:\u2014it was his\nerror, the error of him who felt himself without sin, to whom experience\nwas lacking in this respect! It was thus that his soul filled with that\nmarvellous, fantastic pity which had reference to a trouble that even\namong his own people, the inventors of sin, was rarely a great trouble!\nBut Christians understood subsequently how to do justice to their\nmaster, and to sanctify his error into a \"truth.\"\n\n\n 139.\n\n_Colour of the Passions._\u2014Natures such as the apostle Paul, have an evil\neye for the passions; they learn to know only the filthy, the\ndistorting, and the heart-breaking in them,\u2014their ideal aim, therefore,\nis the annihilation of the passions; in the divine they see complete\npurification from passion. The Greeks, quite otherwise than Paul and the\nJews, directed their ideal aim precisely to the passions, and loved,\nelevated, embellished and deified them: in passion they evidently not\nonly felt themselves happier, but also purer and diviner than\notherwise.\u2014And now the Christians? Have they wished to become Jews in\nthis respect? Have they perhaps become Jews!\n\n\n 140.\n\n_Too Jewish._\u2014If God had wanted to become an object of love, he would\nfirst of all have had to forgo judging and justice:\u2014a judge, and even a\ngracious judge, is no object of love. The founder of Christianity showed\ntoo little of the finer feelings in this respect\u2014being a Jew.\n\n\n 141.\n\n_Too Oriental._\u2014What? A God who loves men, provided that they believe in\nhim, and who hurls frightful glances and threatenings at him who does\nnot believe in this love! What? A conditioned love as the feeling of an\nalmighty God! A love which has not even become master of the sentiment\nof honour and of the irritable desire for vengeance! How Oriental is all\nthat! \"If I love thee, what does it concern thee?\"[9] is already a\nsufficient criticism of the whole of Christianity.\n\n\n 142.\n\n_Frankincense._\u2014Buddha says: \"Do not flatter thy benefactor!\" Let one\nrepeat this saying in a Christian church:\u2014it immediately purifies the\nair of all Christianity.\n\n\n 143.\n\n_The Greatest Utility of Polytheism._\u2014For the individual to set up his\n_own_ ideal and derive from it his laws, his pleasures and his\nrights\u2014_that_ has perhaps been hitherto regarded as the most monstrous\nof all human aberrations, and as idolatry in itself; in fact, the few\nwho have ventured to do this have always needed to apologise to\nthemselves, usually in this wise: \"Not I! not I! but _a God_, through my\ninstrumentality!\" It was in the marvellous art and capacity for creating\nGods\u2014in polytheism\u2014that this impulse was permitted to discharge itself,\nit was here that it became purified, perfected, and ennobled; for it was\noriginally a commonplace and unimportant impulse, akin to stubbornness,\ndisobedience and envy. To be _hostile_ to this impulse towards the\nindividual ideal,\u2014that was formerly the law of every morality. There was\nthen only one norm, \"the man\"\u2014and every people believed that it _had_\nthis one and ultimate norm. But above himself, and outside of himself,\nin a distant over-world, a person could see a _multitude of norms_: the\none God was not the denial or blasphemy of the other Gods! It was here\nthat individuals were first permitted, it was here that the right of\nindividuals was first respected. The inventing of Gods, heroes and\nsupermen of all kinds, as well as co-ordinate men and undermen\u2014dwarfs,\nfairies, centaurs, satyrs, demons, devils\u2014was the inestimable\npreliminary to the justification of the selfishness and sovereignty of\nthe individual: the freedom which was granted to one God in respect to\nother Gods, was at last given to the individual himself in respect to\nlaws, customs and neighbours. Monotheism, on the contrary, the rigid\nconsequence of the doctrine of one normal human being\u2014consequently the\nbelief in a normal God, beside whom there are only false, spurious\nGods\u2014has perhaps been the greatest danger of mankind in the past: man\nwas then threatened by that premature state of inertia, which, so far as\nwe can see, most of the other species of animals reached long ago, as\ncreatures who all believe in one normal animal and ideal in their\nspecies, and definitely translated their morality of custom into flesh\nand blood. In polytheism man's free-thinking and many-sided thinking had\na prototype set up: the power to create for himself new and individual\neyes, always newer and more individualised: so that it is for man alone,\nof all the animals, that there are no _eternal_ horizons and\nperspectives.\n\n\n 144.\n\n_Religious Wars._\u2014The greatest advance of the masses hitherto has been\nreligious war, for it proves that the masses have begun to deal\nreverently with conceptions of things. Religious wars only result, when\nhuman reason generally has been refined by the subtle disputes of sects;\nso that even the populace becomes punctilious and regards trifles as\nimportant, actually thinking it possible that the \"eternal salvation of\nthe soul\" may depend upon minute distinctions of concepts.\n\n\n 145.\n\n_Danger of Vegetarians._\u2014The immense prevalence of rice-eating impels to\nthe use of opium and narcotics, in like manner as the immense prevalence\nof potato-eating impels to the use of brandy:\u2014it also impels, however,\nin its more subtle after-effects to modes of thought and feeling which\noperate narcotically. This is in accord with the fact that those who\npromote narcotic modes of thought and feeling, like those Indian\nteachers, praise a purely vegetable diet, and would like to make it a\nlaw for the masses: they want thereby to call forth and augment the need\nwhich _they_ are in a position to satisfy.\n\n\n 146.\n\n_German Hopes._\u2014Do not let us forget that the names of peoples are\ngenerally names of reproach. The Tartars, for example, according to\ntheir name, are \"the dogs\"; they were so christened by the Chinese.\n\"_Deutschen_\" (Germans) means originally \"heathen\": it is thus that the\nGoths after their conversion named the great mass of their unbaptized\nfellow-tribes, according to the indication in their translation of the\nSeptuagint, in which the heathen are designated by the word which in\nGreek signifies \"the nations.\" (See Ulfilas.)\u2014It might still be possible\nfor the Germans to make an honourable name ultimately out of their old\nname of reproach, by becoming the first _non-Christian_ nation of\nEurope; for which purpose Schopenhauer, to their honour, regarded them\nas highly qualified. The work of _Luther_ would thus be consummated,\u2014he\nwho taught them to be anti-Roman and to say: \"Here _I_ stand! _I_ cannot\ndo otherwise!\"\u2014\n\n\n 147.\n\n_Question and Answer._\u2014What do savage tribes at present accept first of\nall from Europeans? Brandy and Christianity, the European narcotics.\u2014And\nby what means are they fastest ruined?\u2014By the European narcotics.\n\n\n 148.\n\n_Where Reformations Originate._\u2014At the time of the great corruption of\nthe church it was least of all corrupt in Germany: it was on that\naccount that the Reformation originated _here_, as a sign that even the\nbeginnings of corruption were felt to be unendurable. For, comparatively\nspeaking, no people was ever more Christian than the Germans at the time\nof Luther; their Christian culture was just about to burst into bloom\nwith a hundred-fold splendour,\u2014one night only was still lacking; but\nthat night brought the storm which put an end to all.\n\n\n 149.\n\n_The Failure of Reformations._\u2014It testifies to the higher culture of the\nGreeks, even in rather early ages, that attempts to establish new\nGrecian religions frequently failed; it testifies that quite early there\nmust have been a multitude of dissimilar individuals in Greece, whose\ndissimilar troubles were not cured by a single recipe of faith and hope.\nPythagoras and Plato, perhaps also Empedocles, and already much earlier\nthe Orphic enthusiasts, aimed at founding new religions; and the two\nfirst-named were so endowed with the qualifications for founding\nreligions, that one cannot be sufficiently astonished at their failure:\nthey just reached the point of founding sects. Every time that the\nReformation of an entire people fails and only sects raise their heads,\none may conclude that the people already contains many types, and has\nbegun to free itself from the gross herding instincts and the morality\nof custom,\u2014a momentous state of suspense, which one is accustomed to\ndisparage as decay of morals and corruption, while it announces the\nmaturing of the egg and the early rupture of the shell. That Luther's\nReformation succeeded in the north, is a sign that the north had\nremained backward in comparison with the south of Europe, and still had\nrequirements tolerably uniform in colour and kind; and there would have\nbeen no Christianising of Europe at all, if the culture of the old world\nof the south had not been gradually barbarized by an excessive admixture\nof the blood of German barbarians, and thus lost its ascendency. The\nmore universally and unconditionally an individual, or the thought of an\nindividual, can operate, so much more homogeneous and so much lower must\nbe the mass that is there operated upon; while counter-strivings betray\ninternal counter-requirements, which also want to gratify and realise\nthemselves. Reversely, one may always conclude with regard to an actual\nelevation of culture, when powerful and ambitious natures only produce a\nlimited and sectarian effect: this is true also for the separate arts,\nand for the provinces of knowledge. Where there is ruling there are\nmasses: where there are masses there is need of slavery. Where there is\nslavery the individuals are but few, and have the instincts and\nconscience of the herd opposed to them.\n\n\n 150.\n\n_Criticism of Saints._\u2014Must one then, in order to have a virtue, be\ndesirous of having it precisely in its most brutal form?\u2014as the\nChristian saints desired and needed;\u2014those who only _endured_ life with\nthe thought that at the sight of their virtue self-contempt might seize\nevery man. A virtue with such an effect I call brutal.\n\n\n 151.\n\n_The Origin of Religion._\u2014The metaphysical requirement is not the origin\nof religions, as Schopenhauer claims, but only a _later sprout_ from\nthem. Under the dominance of religious thoughts we have accustomed\nourselves to the idea of \"another (back, under, or upper) world,\" and\nfeel an uncomfortable void and privation through the annihilation of the\nreligious illusion;\u2014and then \"another world\" grows out of this feeling\nonce more, but now it is only a metaphysical world, and no longer a\nreligious one. That however which in general led to the assumption of\n\"another world\" in primitive times, was _not_ an impulse or requirement,\nbut an _error_ in the interpretation of certain natural phenomena, a\ndifficulty of the intellect.\n\n\n 152.\n\n_The greatest Change._\u2014The lustre and the hues of all things have\nchanged! We no longer quite understand how earlier men conceived of the\nmost familiar and frequent things,\u2014for example, of the day, and the\nawakening in the morning: owing to their belief in dreams the waking\nstate seemed to them differently illuminated. And similarly of the whole\nof life, with its reflection of death and its significance: our \"death\"\nis an entirely different death. All events were of a different lustre,\nfor a God shone forth in them; and similarly of all resolutions and\npeeps into the distant future: for people had oracles, and secret hints,\nand believed in prognostication. \"Truth\" was conceived in quite a\ndifferent manner, for the insane could formerly be regarded as its\nmouthpiece\u2014a thing which makes _us_ shudder, or laugh. Injustice made a\ndifferent impression on the feelings: for people were afraid of divine\nretribution, and not only of legal punishment and disgrace. What joy was\nthere in an age when men believed in the devil and tempter! What passion\nwas there when people saw demons lurking close at hand! What philosophy\nwas there when doubt was regarded as sinfulness of the most dangerous\nkind, and in fact as an outrage on eternal love, as distrust of\neverything good, high, pure, and compassionate!\u2014We have coloured things\nanew, we paint them over continually,\u2014but what have we been able to do\nhitherto in comparison with the _splendid colouring_ of that old\nmaster!\u2014I mean ancient humanity.\n\n\n 153.\n\n_Homo poeta._\u2014\"I myself who have made this tragedy of tragedies\naltogether independently, in so far as it is completed; I who have first\nentwined the perplexities of morality about existence, and have\ntightened them so that only a God could unravel them\u2014so Horace\ndemands!\u2014I have already in the fourth act killed all the Gods\u2014for the\nsake of morality! What is now to be done about the fifth act? Where\nshall I get the tragic _d\u00e9nouement_! Must I now think about a comic\n_d\u00e9nouement_?\"\n\n\n 154.\n\n_Differences in the Dangerousness of Life._\u2014You don't know at all what\nyou experience; you run through life as if intoxicated, and now and then\nfall down a stair. Thanks however to your intoxication you still do not\nbreak your limbs: your muscles are too languid and your head too\nconfused to find the stones of the staircase as hard as we others do!\nFor us life is a greater danger: we are made of glass\u2014alas, if we should\n_strike against_ anything! And all is lost if we should _fall_!\n\n\n 155.\n\n_What we Lack._\u2014We love the _grandeur_ of Nature and have discovered it;\nthat is because human grandeur is lacking in our minds. It was the\nreverse with the Greeks: their feeling towards Nature was quite\ndifferent from ours.\n\n\n 156.\n\n_The most Influential Person._\u2014The fact that a person resists the whole\nspirit of his age, stops it at the door, and calls it to account, _must_\nexert an influence! It is indifferent whether he wishes to exert an\ninfluence; the point is that he _can_.\n\n\n 157.\n\n_Mentiri._\u2014Take care!\u2014he reflects: he will have a lie ready immediately.\nThis is a stage in the civilisation of whole nations. Consider only what\nthe Romans expressed by _mentiri_!\n\n\n 158.\n\n_An Inconvenient Peculiarity._\u2014To find everything deep is an\ninconvenient peculiarity: it makes one constantly strain one's eyes, so\nthat in the end one always finds more than one wishes.\n\n\n 159.\n\n_Every Virtue has its Time._\u2014The honesty of him who is at present\ninflexible often causes him remorse; for inflexibility is the virtue of\na time different from that in which honesty prevails.\n\n\n 160.\n\n_In Intercourse with Virtues._\u2014One can also be undignified and\nflattering towards a virtue.\n\n\n 161.\n\n_To the Admirers of the Age._\u2014The runaway priest and the liberated\ncriminal are continually making grimaces; what they want is a look\nwithout a past.\u2014But have you ever seen men who know that their looks\nreflect the future, and who are so courteous to you, the admirers of the\n\"age,\" that they assume a look without a future.\n\n\n 162.\n\n_Egoism._\u2014Egoism is the _perspective_ law of our sentiment, according to\nwhich the near appears large and momentous, while in the distance the\nmagnitude and importance of all things diminish.\n\n\n 163.\n\n_After a Great Victory._\u2014The best thing in a great victory is that it\ndeprives the conqueror of the fear of defeat. \"Why should I not be\nworsted for once?\" he says to himself, \"I am now rich enough to stand\nit.\"\n\n\n 164.\n\n_Those who Seek Repose._\u2014I recognise the minds that seek repose by the\nmany _dark_ objects with which they surround themselves: those who want\nto sleep darken their chambers, or creep into caverns. A hint to those\nwho do not know what they really seek most, and would like to know!\n\n\n 165.\n\n_The Happiness of Renunciation._\u2014He who has absolutely dispensed with\nsomething for a long time will almost imagine, when he accidentally\nmeets with it again, that he has discovered it,\u2014and what happiness every\ndiscoverer has! Let us be wiser than the serpents that lie too long in\nthe same sunshine.\n\n\n 166.\n\n_Always in our own Society._\u2014All that is akin to me in nature and\nhistory speaks to me, praises me, urges me forward and comforts me\u2014:\nother things are unheard by me, or immediately forgotten. We are only in\nour own society always.\n\n\n 167.\n\n_Misanthropy and Philanthropy._\u2014We only speak about being sick of men\nwhen we can no longer digest them, and yet have the stomach full of\nthem. Misanthropy is the result of a far too eager philanthropy and\n\"cannibalism,\"\u2014but who ever bade you swallow men like oysters, my Prince\nHamlet!\n\n\n 168.\n\n_Concerning an Invalid._\u2014\"Things go badly with him!\"\u2014What is wrong?\u2014\"He\nsuffers from the longing to be praised, and finds no sustenance for\nit.\"\u2014Inconceivable! All the world does honour to him, and he is\nreverenced not only in deed but in word!\u2014\"Certainly, but he is dull of\nhearing for the praise. When a friend praises him it sounds to him as if\nthe friend praised himself; when an enemy praises him, it sounds to him\nas if the enemy wanted to be praised for it; when, finally, some one\nelse praises him\u2014there are by no means so many of these, he is so\nfamous!\u2014he is offended because they neither want him for a friend nor\nfor an enemy; he is accustomed to say: 'What do I care for those who can\nstill pose as the all-righteous towards me!'\"\n\n\n 169.\n\n_Avowed Enemies._\u2014Bravery in presence of an enemy is a thing by itself:\na person may possess it and still be a coward and an irresolute\nnumskull. That was Napoleon's opinion concerning the \"bravest man\" he\nknew, Murat:\u2014whence it follows that avowed enemies are indispensable to\nsome men, if they are to attain to _their_ virtue, to their manliness,\nto their cheerfulness.\n\n\n 170.\n\n_With the Multitude._\u2014He has hitherto gone with the multitude and is its\npanegyrist; but one day he will be its opponent! For he follows it in\nthe belief that his laziness will find its advantage thereby; he has not\nyet learned that the multitude is not lazy enough for him! that it\nalways presses forward! that it does not allow any one to stand\nstill!\u2014And he likes so well to stand still!\n\n\n 171.\n\n_Fame._\u2014When the gratitude of many to one casts aside all shame, then\nfame originates.\n\n\n 172.\n\n_The Perverter of Taste._\u2014A: \"You are a perverter of taste\u2014they say so\neverywhere!\" B: \"Certainly! I pervert every one's taste for his\nparty:\u2014no party forgives me for that.\"\n\n\n 173.\n\n_To be Profound and to Appear Profound._\u2014He who knows that he is\nprofound strives for clearness; he who would like to appear profound to\nthe multitude strives for obscurity. The multitude thinks everything\nprofound of which it cannot see the bottom; it is so timid and goes so\nunwillingly into the water.\n\n\n 174.\n\n_Apart._\u2014Parliamentarism, that is to say, the public permission to\nchoose between five main political opinions, insinuates itself into the\nfavour of the numerous class who would fain _appear_ independent and\nindividual, and like to fight for their opinions. After all, however, it\nis a matter of indifference whether one opinion is imposed upon the\nherd, or five opinions are permitted to it.\u2014He who diverges from the\nfive public opinions and goes apart, has always the whole herd against\nhim.\n\n\n 175.\n\n_Concerning Eloquence._\u2014What has hitherto had the most convincing\neloquence? The rolling of the drum: and as long as kings have this at\ntheir command, they will always be the best orators and popular leaders.\n\n\n 176.\n\n_Compassion._\u2014The poor, ruling princes! All their rights now change\nunexpectedly into claims, and all these claims immediately sound like\npretensions! And if they but say \"we,\" or \"my people,\" wicked old Europe\nbegins laughing. Verily, a chief-master-of-ceremonies of the modern\nworld would make little ceremony with them; perhaps he would decree that\n\"_les souverains rangent aux parvenus_.\"\n\n\n 177.\n\n_On \"Educational Matters.\"_\u2014In Germany an important educational means is\nlacking for higher men; namely, the laughter of higher men; these men do\nnot laugh in Germany.\n\n\n 178.\n\n_For Moral Enlightenment._\u2014The Germans must be talked out of their\nMephistopheles\u2014and out of their Faust also. These are two moral\nprejudices against the value of knowledge.\n\n\n 179.\n\n_Thoughts._\u2014Thoughts are the shadows of our sentiments\u2014always, however,\nobscurer, emptier, and simpler.\n\n\n 180.\n\n_The Good Time for Free Spirits._\u2014Free Spirits take liberties even with\nregard to Science\u2014and meanwhile they are allowed to do so,\u2014while the\nChurch still remains!\u2014In so far they have now their good time.\n\n\n 181.\n\n_Following and Leading._\u2014A: \"Of the two, the one will always follow, the\nother will always lead, whatever be the course of their destiny. _And\nyet_ the former is superior to the other in virtue and intellect.\" B:\n\"And yet? And yet? That is spoken for the others; not for me, not for\nus!\u2014_Fit secundum regulam._\"\n\n\n 182.\n\n_In Solitude._\u2014When one lives alone one does not speak too loudly, and\none does not write too loudly either, for one fears the hollow\nreverberation\u2014the criticism of the nymph Echo.\u2014And all voices sound\ndifferently in solitude!\n\n\n 183.\n\n_The Music of the Best Future._\u2014The first musician for me would be he\nwho knew only the sorrow of the profoundest happiness, and no other\nsorrow: there has not hitherto been such a musician.\n\n\n 184.\n\n_Justice._\u2014Better allow oneself to be robbed than have scarecrows around\none\u2014that is my taste. And under all circumstances it is just a matter of\ntaste\u2014and nothing more!\n\n\n 185.\n\n_Poor._\u2014He is now poor, but not because everything has been taken from\nhim, but because he has thrown everything away:\u2014what does he care? He is\naccustomed to find new things.\u2014It is the poor who misunderstand his\nvoluntary poverty.\n\n\n 186.\n\n_Bad Conscience._\u2014All that he now does is excellent and proper\u2014and yet\nhe has a bad conscience with it all. For the exceptional is his task.\n\n\n 187.\n\n_Offensiveness in Expression._\u2014This artist offends me by the way in\nwhich he expresses his ideas, his very excellent ideas: so diffusely and\nforcibly, and with such gross rhetorical artifices, as if he were\nspeaking to the mob. We feel always as if \"in bad company\" when devoting\nsome time to his art.\n\n\n 188.\n\n_Work._\u2014How close work and the workers now stand even to the most\nleisurely of us! The royal courtesy in the words: \"We are all workers,\"\nwould have been a cynicism and an indecency even under Louis XIV.\n\n\n 189.\n\n_The Thinker._\u2014He is a thinker: that is to say, he knows how to take\nthings more simply than they are.\n\n\n 190.\n\n_Against Eulogisers._\u2014A: \"One is only praised by one's equals!\" B: \"Yes!\nAnd he who praises you says: 'You are my equal!'\"\n\n\n 191.\n\n_Against many a Vindication._\u2014The most perfidious manner of injuring a\ncause is to vindicate it intentionally with fallacious arguments.\n\n\n 192.\n\n_The Good-natured._\u2014What is it that distinguishes the good-natured,\nwhose countenances beam kindness, from other people? They feel quite at\nease in presence of a new person, and are quickly enamoured of him; they\ntherefore wish him well; their first opinion is: \"He pleases me.\" With\nthem there follow in succession the wish to appropriate (they make\nlittle scruple about the person's worth), rapid appropriation, joy in\nthe possession, and actions in favour of the person possessed.\n\n\n 193.\n\n_Kant's Joke._\u2014Kant tried to prove, in a way that dismayed \"everybody,\"\nthat \"everybody\" was in the right:\u2014that was his secret joke. He wrote\nagainst the learned, in favour of popular prejudice; he wrote, however,\nfor the learned and not for the people.\n\n\n 194.\n\n_The \"Open-hearted\" Man._\u2014That man acts probably always from concealed\nmotives; for he has always communicable motives on his tongue, and\nalmost in his open hand.\n\n\n 195.\n\n_Laughable!_\u2014See! See! He runs _away_ from men\u2014: they follow him,\nhowever, because he runs _before_ them,\u2014they are such a gregarious lot!\n\n\n 196.\n\n_The Limits of our Sense of Hearing._\u2014We hear only the questions to\nwhich we are capable of finding an answer.\n\n\n 197.\n\n_Caution therefore!_\u2014There is nothing we are fonder of communicating to\nothers than the seal of secrecy\u2014together with what is under it.\n\n\n 198.\n\n_Vexation of the Proud Man._\u2014The proud man is vexed even with those who\nhelp him forward: he looks angrily at his carriage-horses!\n\n\n 199.\n\n_Liberality._\u2014Liberality is often only a form of timidity in the rich.\n\n\n 200.\n\n_Laughing._\u2014To laugh means to love mischief, but with a good conscience.\n\n\n 201.\n\n_In Applause._\u2014In applause there is always some kind of noise: even in\nself-applause.\n\n\n 202.\n\n_A Spendthrift._\u2014He has not yet the poverty of the rich man who has\ncounted all his treasure,\u2014he squanders his spirit with the\nirrationalness of the spendthrift Nature.\n\n\n 203.\n\n_Hic niger est._\u2014Usually he has no thoughts,\u2014but in exceptional cases\nbad thoughts come to him.\n\n\n 204.\n\n_Beggars and Courtesy._\u2014\"One is not discourteous when one knocks at a\ndoor with a stone when the bell-pull is awanting\"\u2014so think all beggars\nand necessitous persons, but no one thinks they are in the right.\n\n\n 205.\n\n_Need._\u2014Need is supposed to be the cause of things; but in truth it is\noften only the effect of the things themselves.\n\n\n 206.\n\n_During the Rain._\u2014It rains, and I think of the poor people who now\ncrowd together with their many cares, which they are unaccustomed to\nconceal; all of them, therefore, ready and anxious to give pain to one\nanother, and thus provide themselves with a pitiable kind of comfort,\neven in bad weather. This, this only, is the poverty of the poor!\n\n\n 207.\n\n_The Envious Man._\u2014That is an envious man\u2014it is not desirable that he\nshould have children; he would be envious of them, because he can no\nlonger be a child.\n\n\n 208.\n\n_A Great Man!_\u2014Because a person is \"a great man,\" we are not authorised\nto infer that he is a man. Perhaps he is only a boy, or a chameleon of\nall ages, or a bewitched girl.\n\n\n 209.\n\n_A Mode of Asking for Reasons._\u2014There is a mode of asking for our\nreasons which not only makes us forget our best reasons, but also\narouses in us a spite and repugnance against reason generally:\u2014a very\nstupefying mode of questioning, and properly an artifice of tyrannical\nmen!\n\n\n 210.\n\n_Moderation in Diligence._\u2014One must not be anxious to surpass the\ndiligence of one's father\u2014that would make one ill.\n\n\n 211.\n\n_Secret Enemies._\u2014To be able to keep a secret enemy\u2014that is a luxury\nwhich the morality even of the highest-minded persons can rarely afford.\n\n\n 212.\n\n_Not Letting oneself be Deluded._\u2014His spirit has bad manners, it is\nhasty and always stutters with impatience; so that one would hardly\nsuspect the deep breathing and the large chest of the soul in which it\nresides.\n\n\n 213.\n\n_The Way to Happiness._\u2014A sage asked of a fool the way to happiness. The\nfool answered without delay, like one who had been asked the way to the\nnext town: \"Admire yourself, and live on the street!\" \"Hold,\" cried the\nsage, \"you require too much; it suffices to admire oneself!\" The fool\nreplied: \"But how can one constantly admire without constantly\ndespising?\"\n\n\n 214.\n\n_Faith Saves._\u2014Virtue gives happiness and a state of blessedness only to\nthose who have a strong faith in their virtue:\u2014not, however, to the more\nrefined souls whose virtue consists of a profound distrust of themselves\nand of all virtue. After all, therefore, it is \"faith that saves\" here\nalso!\u2014and be it well observed, _not_ virtue!\n\n\n 215.\n\n_The Ideal and the Material._\u2014You have a noble ideal before your eyes:\nbut are you also such a noble stone that such a divine image could be\nformed out of you? And without that\u2014is not all your labour barbaric\nsculpturing? A blasphemy of your ideal!\n\n\n 216.\n\n_Danger in the Voice._\u2014With a very loud voice a person is almost\nincapable of reflecting on subtle matters.\n\n\n 217.\n\n_Cause and Effect._\u2014Before the effect one believes in other causes than\nafter the effect.\n\n\n 218.\n\n_My Antipathy._\u2014I do not like those people who, in order to produce an\neffect, have to burst like bombs, and in whose neighbourhood one is\nalways in danger of suddenly losing one's hearing\u2014or even something\nmore.\n\n\n 219.\n\n_The Object of Punishment._\u2014The object of punishment is to improve him\n_who punishes_,\u2014that is the ultimate appeal of those who justify\npunishment.\n\n\n 220.\n\n_Sacrifice._\u2014The victims think otherwise than the spectators about\nsacrifice and sacrificing: but they have never been allowed to express\ntheir opinion.\n\n\n 221.\n\n_Consideration._\u2014Fathers and sons are much more considerate of one\nanother than mothers and daughters.\n\n\n 222.\n\n_Poet and Liar._\u2014The poet sees in the liar his foster-brother whose milk\nhe has drunk up; the latter has thus remained wretched, and has not even\nattained to a good conscience.\n\n\n 223.\n\n_Vicariousness of the Senses._\u2014\"We have also eyes in order to hear with\nthem,\"\u2014said an old confessor who had grown deaf; \"and among the blind he\nthat has the longest ears is king.\"\n\n\n 224.\n\n_Animal Criticism._\u2014I fear the animals regard man as a being like\nthemselves, very seriously endangered by a loss of sound animal\nunderstanding;\u2014they regard him perhaps as the absurd animal, the\nlaughing animal, the crying animal, the unfortunate animal.\n\n\n 225.\n\n_The Natural._\u2014\"Evil has always had the great effect! And Nature is\nevil! Let us therefore be natural!\"\u2014so reason secretly the great\naspirants after effect, who are too often counted among great men.\n\n\n 226.\n\n_The Distrustful and their Style._\u2014We say the strongest things simply,\nprovided people are about us who believe in our strength:\u2014such an\nenvironment educates to \"simplicity of style.\" The distrustful, on the\nother hand, speak emphatically; they make things emphatic.\n\n\n 227.\n\n_Fallacy, Fallacy._\u2014He cannot rule himself; therefore that woman\nconcludes that it will be easy to rule him, and throws out her lines to\ncatch him;\u2014the poor creature, who in a short time will be his slave.\n\n\n 228.\n\n_Against Mediators._\u2014He who attempts to mediate between two decided\nthinkers is rightly called mediocre: he has not an eye for seeing the\nunique; similarising and equalising are signs of weak eyes.\n\n\n 229.\n\n_Obstinacy and Loyalty._\u2014Out of obstinacy he holds fast to a cause of\nwhich the questionableness has become obvious,\u2014he calls that, however,\nhis \"loyalty.\"\n\n\n 230.\n\n_Lack of Reserve._\u2014His whole nature fails to _convince_\u2014that results\nfrom the fact that he has never been reticent about a good action he has\nperformed.\n\n\n 231.\n\n_The \"Plodders.\"_\u2014Persons slow of apprehension think that slowness forms\npart of knowledge.\n\n\n 232.\n\n_Dreaming._\u2014Either one does not dream at all, or one dreams in an\ninteresting manner. One must learn to be awake in the same\nfashion:\u2014either not at all, or in an interesting manner.\n\n\n 233.\n\n_The most Dangerous Point of View._\u2014What I now do, or neglect to do, is\nas important _for all that is to come_, as the greatest event of the\npast: in this immense perspective of effects all actions are equally\ngreat and small.\n\n\n 234.\n\n_Consolatory Words of a Musician._\u2014\"Your life does not sound into\npeople's ears: for them you live a dumb life, and all refinements of\nmelody, all fond resolutions in following or leading the way, are\nconcealed from them. To be sure you do not parade the thoroughfares with\nregimental music,\u2014but these good people have no right to say on that\naccount that your life is lacking in music. He that hath ears let him\nhear.\"\n\n\n 235.\n\n_Spirit and Character._\u2014Many a one attains his full height of character,\nbut his spirit is not adapted to the elevation,\u2014and many a one\nreversely.\n\n\n 236.\n\n_To Move the Multitude._\u2014Is it not necessary for him who wants to move\nthe multitude to give a stage representation of himself? Has he not\nfirst to translate himself into the grotesquely obvious, and then _set\nforth_ his whole personality and cause in that vulgarised and simplified\nfashion!\n\n\n 237.\n\n_The Polite Man._\u2014\"He is so polite!\"\u2014Yes, he has always a sop for\nCerberus with him, and is so timid that he takes everybody for Cerberus,\neven you and me,\u2014that is his \"politeness.\"\n\n\n 238.\n\n_Without Envy._\u2014He is wholly without envy, but there is no merit\ntherein: for he wants to conquer a land which no one has yet possessed\nand hardly any one has even seen.\n\n\n 239.\n\n_The Joyless Person._\u2014A single joyless person is enough to make constant\ndispleasure and a clouded heaven in a household; and it is only by a\nmiracle that such a person is lacking!\u2014Happiness is not nearly such a\ncontagious disease;\u2014how is that!\n\n\n 240.\n\n_On the Sea-Shore._\u2014I would not build myself a house (it is an element\nof my happiness not to be a house-owner!). If I had to do so, however, I\nshould build it, like many of the Romans, right into the sea,\u2014I should\nlike to have some secrets in common with that beautiful monster.\n\n\n 241.\n\n_Work and Artist._\u2014This artist is ambitious and nothing more;\nultimately, however, his work is only a magnifying glass, which he\noffers to every one who looks in his direction.\n\n\n 242.\n\n_Suum cuique._\u2014However great be my greed of knowledge, I cannot\nappropriate aught of things but what already belongs to me,\u2014the property\nof others still remains in the things. How is it possible for a man to\nbe a thief or a robber!\n\n\n 243.\n\n_Origin of \"Good\" and \"Bad.\"_\u2014He only will devise an improvement who can\nfeel that \"this is not good.\"\n\n\n 244.\n\n_Thoughts and Words._\u2014Even our thoughts we are unable to render\ncompletely in words.\n\n\n 245.\n\n_Praise in Choice._\u2014The artist chooses his subjects; that is his mode of\npraising.\n\n\n 246.\n\n_Mathematics._\u2014We want to carry the refinement and rigour of mathematics\ninto all the sciences, as far as it is in any way possible, not in the\nbelief that we shall apprehend things in this way, but in order thereby\nto _assert_ our human relation to things. Mathematics is only a means to\ngeneral and ultimate human knowledge.\n\n\n 247.\n\n_Habits._\u2014All habits make our hand wittier and our wit unhandier.\n\n\n 248.\n\n_Books._\u2014Of what account is a book that never carries us away beyond all\nbooks!\n\n\n 249.\n\n_The Sigh of the Seeker of Knowledge._\u2014\"Oh, my covetousness! In this\nsoul there is no disinterestedness\u2014but an all-desiring self, which, by\nmeans of many individuals, would fain see as with _its own_ eyes, and\ngrasp as with _its own_ hands\u2014a self bringing back even the entire past,\nand wanting to lose nothing that could in any way belong to it! Oh, this\nflame of my covetousness! Oh, that I were reincarnated in a hundred\nindividuals!\"\u2014He who does not know this sigh by experience, does not\nknow the passion of the seeker of knowledge either.\n\n\n 250.\n\n_Guilt._\u2014Although the most intelligent judges of the witches, and even\nthe witches themselves, were convinced of the guilt of witchcraft, the\nguilt, nevertheless, was not there. So it is with all guilt.\n\n\n 251.\n\n_Misunderstood Sufferers._\u2014Great natures suffer otherwise than their\nworshippers imagine; they suffer most severely from the ignoble, petty\nemotions of certain evil moments; in short, from doubt of their own\ngreatness;\u2014not however from the sacrifices and martyrdoms which their\ntasks require of them. As long as Prometheus sympathises with men and\nsacrifices himself for them, he is happy and proud in himself; but on\nbecoming envious of Zeus and of the homage which mortals pay him\u2014then\nPrometheus suffers!\n\n\n 252.\n\n_Better to be in Debt._\u2014\"Better to remain in debt than to pay with money\nwhich does not bear our stamp!\"\u2014that is what our sovereignty prefers.\n\n\n 253.\n\n_Always at Home._\u2014One day we attain our _goal_\u2014and then refer with pride\nto the long journeys we have made to reach it. In truth, we did not\nnotice that we travelled. We got into the habit of thinking that we were\n_at home_ in every place.\n\n\n 254.\n\n_Against Embarrassment._\u2014He who is always thoroughly occupied is rid of\nall embarrassment.\n\n\n 255.\n\n_Imitators._\u2014A: \"What? You don't want to have imitators?\" B: \"I don't\nwant people to do anything _after_ me; I want every one to do something\n_before_ himself (as a pattern to himself)\u2014just as _I_ do.\" A:\n\"Consequently\u2014?\"\n\n\n 256.\n\n_Skinniness._\u2014All profound men have their happiness in imitating the\nflying-fish for once, and playing on the crests of the waves; they think\nthat what is best of all in things is their surface: their\nskinniness\u2014_sit venia verbo_.\n\n\n 257.\n\n_From Experience._\u2014A person often does not know how rich he is, until he\nlearns from experience what rich men even play the thief on him.\n\n\n 258.\n\n_The Deniers of Chance._\u2014No conqueror believes in chance.\n\n\n 259.\n\n_From Paradise._\u2014\"Good and Evil are God's prejudices\"\u2014said the serpent.\n\n\n 260.\n\n_One times One._\u2014One only is always in the wrong, but with two truth\nbegins.\u2014One only cannot prove himself right; but two are already beyond\nrefutation.\n\n\n 261.\n\n_Originality._\u2014What is originality? To _see_ something that does not yet\nbear a name, that cannot yet be named, although it is before everybody's\neyes. As people are usually constituted, it is the name that first makes\na thing generally visible to them.\u2014Original persons have also for the\nmost part been the namers of things.\n\n\n 262.\n\n_Sub specie aeterni._\u2014A: \"You withdraw faster and faster from the\nliving; they will soon strike you out of their lists!\"\u2014B: \"It is the\nonly way to participate in the privilege of the dead.\" A: \"In what\nprivilege?\"\u2014B: \"No longer having to die.\"\n\n\n 263.\n\n_Without Vanity._\u2014When we love we want our defects to remain\nconcealed,\u2014not out of vanity, but lest the person loved should suffer\ntherefrom. Indeed, the lover would like to appear as a God,\u2014and not out\nof vanity either.\n\n\n 264.\n\n_What we Do._\u2014What we do is never understood, but only praised and\nblamed.\n\n\n 265.\n\n_Ultimate Scepticism._\u2014But what after all are man's truths?\u2014They are his\n_irrefutable_ errors.\n\n\n 266.\n\n_Where Cruelty is Necessary._\u2014He who is great is cruel to his\nsecond-rate virtues and judgments.\n\n\n 267.\n\n_With a high Aim._\u2014With a high aim a person is superior even to justice,\nand not only to his deeds and his judges.\n\n\n 268.\n\n_What makes Heroic?_\u2014To face simultaneously one's greatest suffering and\none's highest hope.\n\n\n 269.\n\n_What dost thou Believe in?_\u2014In this: That the weights of all things\nmust be determined anew.\n\n\n 270.\n\n_What Saith thy Conscience?_\u2014\"Thou shalt become what thou art.\"\n\n\n 271.\n\n_Where are thy Greatest Dangers?_\u2014In pity.\n\n\n 272.\n\n_What dost thou Love in others?_\u2014My hopes.\n\n\n 273.\n\n_Whom dost thou call Bad?_\u2014Him who always wants to put others to shame.\n\n\n 274.\n\n_What dost thou think most humane?_\u2014To spare a person shame.\n\n\n 275.\n\n_What is the Seal of Liberty Attained?_\u2014To be no longer ashamed of\noneself.\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 9:\n\n This means that true love does not look for reciprocity.\u2014TR.\n\n\n\n\n BOOK FOURTH\n\n SANCTUS JANUARIUS\n\n\n Thou who with cleaving fiery lances\n The stream of my soul from its ice dost free,\n Till with a rush and a roar it advances\n To enter with glorious hoping the sea:\n Brighter to see and purer ever,\n Free in the bonds of thy sweet constraint,\u2014\n So it praises thy wondrous endeavour,\n January, thou beauteous saint!\n\n_Genoa_, January 1882.\n\n\n 276.\n\n_For the New Year._\u2014I still live, I still think; I must still live, for\nI must still think. _Sum, ergo cogito: cogito, ergo sum._ To-day\neveryone takes the liberty of expressing his wish and his favourite\nthought: well, I also mean to tell what I have wished for myself to-day,\nand what thought first crossed my mind this year,\u2014a thought which ought\nto be the basis, the pledge and the sweetening of all my future life! I\nwant more and more to perceive the necessary characters in things as the\nbeautiful:\u2014I shall thus be one of those who beautify things. _Amor\nfati_: let that henceforth be my love! I do not want to wage war with\nthe ugly. I do not want to accuse, I do not want even to accuse the\naccusers. _Looking aside_, let that be my sole negation! And all in all,\nto sum up: I wish to be at any time hereafter only a yea-sayer!\n\n\n 277.\n\n_Personal Providence._\u2014There is a certain climax in life, at which,\nnotwithstanding all our freedom, and however much we may have denied all\ndirecting reason and goodness in the beautiful chaos of existence, we\nare once more in great danger of intellectual bondage, and have to face\nour hardest test. For now the thought of a personal Providence first\npresents itself before us with its most persuasive force, and has the\nbest of advocates, apparentness, in its favour, now when it is obvious\nthat all and everything that happens to us always _turns out for the\nbest_. The life of every day and of every hour seems to be anxious for\nnothing else but always to prove this proposition anew; let it be what\nit will, bad or good weather, the loss of a friend, a sickness, a\ncalumny, the non-receipt of a letter, the spraining of one's foot, a\nglance into a shop-window, a counter-argument, the opening of a book, a\ndream, a deception:\u2014it shows itself immediately, or very soon afterwards\nas something \"not permitted to be absent,\"\u2014it is full of profound\nsignificance and utility precisely _for us_! Is there a more dangerous\ntemptation to rid ourselves of the belief in the Gods of Epicurus, those\ncareless, unknown Gods, and believe in some anxious and mean Divinity,\nwho knows personally every little hair on our heads, and feels no\ndisgust in rendering the most wretched services? Well\u2014I mean in spite of\nall this! we want to leave the Gods alone (and the serviceable genii\nlikewise), and wish to content ourselves with the assumption that our\nown practical and theoretical skilfulness in explaining and suitably\narranging events has now reached its highest point. We do not want\neither to think too highly of this dexterity of our wisdom, when the\nwonderful harmony which results from playing on our instrument sometimes\nsurprises us too much: a harmony which sounds too well for us to dare to\nascribe it to ourselves. In fact, now and then there is one who plays\n_with_ us\u2014beloved Chance: he leads our hand occasionally, and even the\nall-wisest Providence could not devise any finer music than that of\nwhich our foolish hand is then capable.\n\n\n 278.\n\n_The Thought of Death._\u2014It gives me a melancholy happiness to live in\nthe midst of this confusion of streets, of necessities, of voices: how\nmuch enjoyment, impatience and desire, how much thirsty life and\ndrunkenness of life comes to light here every moment! And yet it will\nsoon be so still for all these shouting, lively, life-loving people! How\neveryone's shadow, his gloomy travelling-companion stands behind him! It\nis always as in the last moment before the departure of an\nemigrant-ship: people have more than ever to say to one another, the\nhour presses, the ocean with its lonely silence waits impatiently behind\nall the noise\u2014so greedy, so certain of its prey! And all, all, suppose\nthat the past has been nothing, or a small matter, that the near future\nis everything: hence this haste, this crying, this self-deafening and\nself-overreaching! Everyone wants to be foremost in this future,\u2014and yet\ndeath and the stillness of death are the only things certain and common\nto all in this future! How strange that this sole thing that is certain\nand common to all, exercises almost no influence on men, and that they\nare the _furthest_ from regarding themselves as the brotherhood of\ndeath! It makes me happy to see that men do not want to think at all of\nthe idea of death! I would fain do something to make the idea of life\neven a hundred times _more worthy of their attention_.\n\n\n 279.\n\n_Stellar Friendship._\u2014We were friends, and have become strangers to each\nother. But this is as it ought to be, and we do not want either to\nconceal or obscure the fact, as if we had to be ashamed of it. We are\ntwo ships, each of which has its goal and its course; we may, to be\nsure, cross one another in our paths, and celebrate a feast together as\nwe did before,\u2014and then the gallant ships lay quietly in one harbour,\nand in one sunshine, so that it might have been thought they were\nalready at their goal, and that they had had one goal. But then the\nalmighty strength of our tasks forced us apart once more into different\nseas and into different zones, and perhaps we shall never see one\nanother again,\u2014or perhaps we may see one another, but not know one\nanother again; the different seas and suns have altered us! That we had\nto become strangers to one another is the law to which we are _subject_:\njust by that shall we become more sacred to one another! Just by that\nshall the thought of our former friendship become holier! There is\nprobably some immense, invisible curve and stellar orbit in which our\ncourses and goals, so widely different, may be _comprehended_ as small\nstages of the way,\u2014let us raise ourselves to this thought! But our life\nis too short, and our power of vision too limited for us to be more than\nfriends in the sense of that sublime possibility.\u2014And so we will\n_believe_ in our stellar friendship, though we should have to be\nterrestrial enemies to one another.\n\n\n 280.\n\n_Architecture for Thinkers._\u2014An insight is needed (and that probably\nvery soon) as to what is specially lacking in our great cities\u2014namely,\nquiet, spacious, and widely extended places for reflection, places with\nlong, lofty colonnades for bad weather, or for too sunny days, where no\nnoise of wagons or of shouters would penetrate, and where a more refined\npropriety would prohibit loud praying even to the priest: buildings and\nsituations which as a whole would express the sublimity of\nself-communion and seclusion from the world. The time is past when the\nChurch possessed the monopoly of reflection, when the _vita\ncontemplativa_ had always in the first place to be the _vita religiosa_:\nand everything that the Church has built expresses this thought. I know\nnot how we could content ourselves with their structures, even if they\nshould be divested of their ecclesiastical purposes: these structures\nspeak a far too pathetic and too biassed speech, as houses of God and\nplaces of splendour for supernatural intercourse, for us godless ones to\nbe able to think _our thoughts_ in them. We want to have _ourselves_\ntranslated into stone and plant, we want to go for a walk in _ourselves_\nwhen we wander in these halls and gardens.\n\n\n 281.\n\n_Knowing how to Find the End._\u2014Masters of the first rank are recognised\nby knowing in a perfect manner how to find the end, in the whole as well\nas in the part; be it the end of a melody or of a thought, be it the\nfifth act of a tragedy or of a state affair. The masters of the second\ndegree always become restless towards the end, and seldom dip down into\nthe sea with such proud, quiet equilibrium as, for example, the\nmountain-ridge at _Porto fino_\u2014where the Bay of Genoa sings its melody\nto an end.\n\n\n 282.\n\n_The Gait._\u2014There are mannerisms of the intellect by which even great\nminds betray that they originate from the populace, or from the\nsemi-populace:\u2014it is principally the gait and step of their thoughts\nwhich betray them; they cannot _walk_. It was thus that even Napoleon,\nto his profound chagrin, could not walk \"legitimately\" and in princely\nfashion on occasions when it was necessary to do so properly, as in\ngreat coronation processions and on similar occasions: even there he was\nalways just the leader of a column\u2014proud and brusque at the same time,\nand very self-conscious of it all.\u2014It is something laughable to see\nthose writers who make the folding robes of their periods rustle around\nthem: they want to cover their _feet_.\n\n\n 283.\n\n_Pioneers._\u2014I greet all the signs indicating that a more manly and\nwarlike age is commencing, which will, above all, bring heroism again\ninto honour! For it has to prepare the way for a yet higher age, and\ngather the force which the latter will one day require,\u2014the age which\nwill carry heroism into knowledge, and _wage war_ for the sake of ideas\nand their consequences. For that end many brave pioneers are now needed,\nwho, however, cannot originate out of nothing,\u2014and just as little out of\nthe sand and slime of present-day civilisation and the culture of great\ncities: men silent, solitary and resolute, who know how to be content\nand persistent in invisible activity: men who with innate disposition\nseek in all things that which is _to be overcome_ in them: men to whom\ncheerfulness, patience, simplicity, and contempt of the great vanities\nbelong just as much as do magnanimity in victory and indulgence to the\ntrivial vanities of all the vanquished: men with an acute and\nindependent judgment regarding all victors, and concerning the part\nwhich chance has played in the winning of victory and fame: men with\ntheir own holidays, their own work-days, and their own periods of\nmourning; accustomed to command with perfect assurance, and equally\nready, if need be, to obey, proud in the one case as in the other,\nequally serving their own interests: men more imperilled, more\nproductive, more happy! For believe me!\u2014the secret of realising the\nlargest productivity and the greatest enjoyment of existence is _to live\nin danger_! Build your cities on the slope of Vesuvius! Send your ships\ninto unexplored seas! Live in war with your equals and with yourselves!\nBe robbers and spoilers, ye knowing ones, as long as ye cannot be rulers\nand possessor! The time will soon pass when you can be satisfied to live\nlike timorous deer concealed in the forests. Knowledge will finally\nstretch out her hand for that which belongs to her:\u2014she means to _rule_\nand _possess_, and you with her!\n\n\n 284.\n\n_Belief in Oneself._\u2014In general, few men have belief in themselves:\u2014and\nof those few some are endowed with it as a useful blindness or partial\nobscuration of intellect (what would they perceive if they could see _to\nthe bottom of themselves_!). The others must first acquire the belief\nfor themselves: everything good, clever, or great that they do, is first\nof all an argument against the sceptic that dwells in them: the question\nis how to convince or persuade _this sceptic_, and for that purpose\ngenius almost is needed. They are signally dissatisfied with themselves.\n\n\n 285.\n\n_Excelsior!_\u2014\"Thou wilt never more pray, never more worship, never more\nrepose in infinite trust\u2014thou refusest to stand still and dismiss thy\nthoughts before an ultimate wisdom, an ultimate virtue, an ultimate\npower,\u2014thou hast no constant guardian and friend in thy seven\nsolitudes\u2014thou livest without the outlook on a mountain that has snow on\nits head and fire in its heart\u2014there is no longer any requiter for thee,\nnor any amender with his finishing touch\u2014there is no longer any reason\nin that which happens, or any love in that which will happen to\nthee\u2014there is no longer any resting-place for thy weary heart, where it\nhas only to find and no longer to seek, thou art opposed to any kind of\nultimate peace, thou desirest the eternal recurrence of war and\npeace:\u2014man of renunciation, wilt thou renounce in all these things? Who\nwill give thee the strength to do so? No one has yet had this\nstrength!\"\u2014There is a lake which one day refused to flow away, and threw\nup a dam at the place where it had hitherto flowed away: since then this\nlake has always risen higher and higher. Perhaps the very renunciation\nwill also furnish us with the strength with which the renunciation\nitself can be borne; perhaps man will ever rise higher and higher from\nthat point onward, when he no longer _flows out_ into a God.\n\n\n 286.\n\n_A Digression._\u2014Here are hopes; but what will you see and hear of them,\nif you have not experienced glance and glow and dawn of day in your own\nsouls? I can only suggest\u2014I cannot do more! To move the stones, to make\nanimals men\u2014would you have me do that? Alas, if you are yet stones and\nanimals, seek first your Orpheus!\n\n\n 287.\n\n_Love of Blindness._\u2014\"My thoughts,\" said the wanderer to his shadow,\n\"ought to show me where I stand, but they should not betray to me\n_whither I go_. I love ignorance of the future, and do not want to come\nto grief by impatience and anticipatory tasting of promised things.\"\n\n\n 288.\n\n_Lofty Moods._\u2014It seems to me that most men do not believe in lofty\nmoods, unless it be for the moment, or at the most for a quarter of an\nhour,\u2014except the few who know by experience a longer duration of high\nfeeling. But to be absolutely a man with a single lofty feeling, the\nincarnation of a single lofty mood\u2014that has hitherto been only a dream\nand an enchanting possibility: history does not yet give us any\ntrustworthy example of it. Nevertheless it could some day produce such\nmen also\u2014when a multitude of favourable conditions have been created and\nestablished, which at present even the happiest chance is unable to\nthrow together. Perhaps that very state which has hitherto entered into\nour soul as an exception, felt with horror now and then, may be the\nusual condition of those future souls: a continuous movement between\nhigh and low, and the feeling of high and low, a constant state of\nmounting as on steps, and at the same time reposing as on clouds.\n\n\n 289.\n\n_Aboard Ship!_\u2014When one considers how a full philosophical\njustification of his mode of living and thinking operates upon every\nindividual\u2014namely, as a warming, blessing, and fructifying sun,\nspecially shining on him; how it makes him independent of praise and\nblame, self-sufficient, rich and generous in the bestowal of happiness\nand kindness; how it unceasingly transforms the evil to the good,\nbrings all the energies to bloom and maturity, and altogether hinders\nthe growth of the greater and lesser weeds of chagrin and\ndiscontent:\u2014one at last cries out importunately: Oh, that many such\nnew suns were created! The evil man, also, the unfortunate man, and\nthe exceptional man, shall each have his philosophy, his rights, and\nhis sunshine! It is not sympathy with them that is necessary!\u2014we must\nunlearn this arrogant fancy, notwithstanding that humanity has so long\nlearned it and used it exclusively\u2014we have not to set up any\nconfessor, exorcist, or pardoner for them! It is a new _justice_,\nhowever, that is necessary! And a new solution! And new philosophers!\nThe moral earth also is round! The moral earth also has its antipodes!\nThe antipodes also have their right to exist! there is still another\nworld to discover\u2014and more than one! Aboard ship! ye philosophers!\n\n\n 290.\n\n_One Thing is Needful._\u2014To \"give style\" to one's character\u2014that is a\ngrand and a rare art! He who surveys all that his nature presents in its\nstrength and in its weakness, and then fashions it into an ingenious\nplan, until everything appears artistic and rational, and even the\nweaknesses enchant the eye\u2014exercises that admirable art. Here there has\nbeen a great amount of second nature added, there a portion of first\nnature has been taken away:\u2014in both cases with long exercise and daily\nlabour at the task. Here the ugly, which does not permit of being taken\naway, has been concealed, there it has been re-interpreted into the\nsublime. Much of the vague, which refuses to take form, has been\nreserved and utilised for the perspectives:\u2014it is meant to give a hint\nof the remote and immeasurable. In the end, when the work has been\ncompleted, it is revealed how it was the constraint of the same taste\nthat organised and fashioned it in whole or in part: whether the taste\nwas good or bad is of less importance than one thinks,\u2014it is sufficient\nthat it was _a taste_!\u2014It will be the strong imperious natures which\nexperience their most refined joy in such constraint, in such\nconfinement and perfection under their own law; the passion of their\nviolent volition lessens at the sight of all disciplined nature, all\nconquered and ministering nature: even when they have palaces to build\nand gardens to lay out, it is not to their taste to allow nature to be\nfree.\u2014It is the reverse with weak characters who have not power over\nthemselves, and _hate_ the restriction of style: they feel that if this\nrepugnant constraint were laid upon them, they would necessarily become\n_vulgarised_ under it: they become slaves as soon as they serve, they\nhate service. Such intellects\u2014they may be intellects of the first\nrank\u2014are always concerned with fashioning or interpreting themselves and\ntheir surroundings as _free_ nature\u2014wild, arbitrary, fantastic, confused\nand surprising: and it is well for them to do so, because only in this\nmanner can they please themselves! For one thing is needful: namely,\nthat man should _attain to_ satisfaction with himself\u2014be it but through\nthis or that fable and artifice: it is only then that man's aspect is at\nall endurable! He who is dissatisfied with himself is ever ready to\navenge himself on that account: we others will be his victims, if only\nin having always to endure his ugly aspect. For the aspect of the ugly\nmakes one mean and sad.\n\n\n 291.\n\n_Genoa._\u2014I have looked upon this city, its villas and pleasure-grounds\nand the wide circuit of its inhabited heights and slopes, for a\nconsiderable time: in the end I must say that I see _countenances_ out\nof past generations,\u2014this district is strewn with the images of bold and\nautocratic men. They have _lived_ and have wanted to live on\u2014they say so\nwith their houses, built and decorated for centuries, and not for the\npassing hour: they were well disposed to life, however ill-disposed they\nmay often have been towards themselves. I always see the builder, how he\ncasts his eye on all that is built around him far and near, and likewise\non the city, the sea, and the chain of mountains; how he expresses power\nand conquest in his gaze: all this he wishes to fit into _his_ plan, and\nin the end make it his _property_, by its becoming a portion of the\nsame. The whole district is overgrown with this superb, insatiable\negoism of the desire to possess and exploit; and as these men when\nabroad recognised no frontiers, and in their thirst for the new placed a\nnew world beside the old, so also at home everyone rose up against\neveryone else, and devised some mode of expressing his superiority, and\nof placing between himself and his neighbour his personal\nillimitableness. Everyone won for himself his home once more by\nover-powering it with his architectural thoughts, and by transforming it\ninto a delightful sight for his race. When we consider the mode of\nbuilding cities in the north, the law and the general delight in\nlegality and obedience, impose upon us: we thereby divine the propensity\nto equality and submission which must have ruled in those builders.\nHere, however, on turning every corner you find a man by himself, who\nknows the sea, knows adventure, and knows the Orient, a man who is\naverse to law and to neighbour, as if it bored him to have to do with\nthem, a man who scans all that is already old and established, with\nenvious glances: with a wonderful craftiness of fantasy, he would like,\nat least in thought, to establish all this anew, to lay his hand upon\nit, and introduce his meaning into it\u2014if only for the passing hour of a\nsunny afternoon, when for once his insatiable and melancholy soul feels\nsatiety, and when only what is his own, and nothing strange, may show\nitself to his eye.\n\n\n 292.\n\n_To the Preachers of Morality._\u2014I do not mean to moralise, but to those\nwho do, I would give this advice: if you mean ultimately to deprive the\nbest things and the best conditions of all honour and worth, continue to\nspeak of them in the same way as heretofore! Put them at the head of\nyour morality, and speak from morning till night of the happiness of\nvirtue, of repose of soul, of righteousness, and of reward and\npunishment in the nature of things: according as you go on in this\nmanner, all these good things will finally acquire a popularity and a\nstreet-cry for themselves: but then all the gold on them will also be\nworn off, and more besides: all the gold _in them_ will have changed\ninto lead. Truly, you understand the reverse art of alchemy, the\ndepreciating of the most valuable things! Try, just for once, another\nrecipe, in order not to realise as hitherto the opposite of what you\nmean to attain: _deny_ those good things, withdraw from them the\napplause of the populace and discourage the spread of them, make them\nonce more the concealed chastities of solitary souls, say that _morality\nis something forbidden_! Perhaps you will thus win over for those things\nthe sort of men who are only of any account, I mean the _heroic_. But\nthen there must be something formidable in them, and not as hitherto\nsomething disgusting! Might one not be inclined to say at present with\nreference to morality what Master Eckardt says: \"I pray God to deliver\nme from God!\"\n\n\n 293.\n\n_Our Atmosphere._\u2014We know it well: to him who only casts a glance now\nand then at science, as in taking a walk (in the manner of women, and\nalas! also like many artists), the strictness in its service, its\ninexorability in small matters as well as in great, its rapidity in\nweighing, judging and condemning, produce something of a feeling of\ngiddiness and fright. It is especially terrifying to him that the\nhardest is here demanded, that the best is done without the reward of\npraise or distinction; it is rather as among soldiers\u2014almost nothing but\nblame and sharp reprimand _is heard_; for doing well prevails here as\nthe rule, doing ill as the exception; the rule, however, has, here as\neverywhere, a silent tongue. It is the same with this \"severity of\nscience\" as with the manners and politeness of the best society: it\nfrightens the uninitiated. He, however, who is accustomed to it, does\nnot like to live anywhere but in this clear, transparent, powerful, and\nhighly electrified atmosphere, this _manly_ atmosphere. Anywhere else it\nis not pure and airy enough for him: he suspects that _there_ his best\nart would neither be properly advantageous to anyone else, nor a delight\nto himself, that through misunderstandings half of his life would slip\nthrough his fingers, that much foresight, much concealment, and\nreticence would constantly be necessary,\u2014nothing but great and useless\nlosses of power! In _this_ keen and clear element, however, he has his\nentire power: here he can fly! Why should he again go down into those\nmuddy waters where he has to swim and wade and soil his wings!\u2014No! There\nit is too hard for us to live! we cannot help it that we are born for\nthe atmosphere, the pure atmosphere, we rivals of the ray of light; and\nthat we should like best to ride like it on the atoms of ether, not away\nfrom the sun, but _towards the sun_! That, however, we cannot do:\u2014so we\nwant to do the only thing that is in our power: namely, to bring light\nto the earth, we want to be \"the light of the earth!\" And for that\npurpose we have our wings and our swiftness and our severity, on that\naccount we are manly, and even terrible like the fire. Let those fear\nus, who do not know how to warm and brighten themselves by our\ninfluence!\n\n\n 294.\n\n_Against the Disparagers of Nature._\u2014They are disagreeable to me, those\nmen in whom every natural inclination forthwith becomes a disease,\nsomething disfiguring, or even disgraceful. _They_ have seduced us to\nthe opinion that the inclinations and impulses of men are evil; _they_\nare the cause of our great injustice to our own nature, and to all\nnature! There are enough of men who _may_ yield to their impulses\ngracefully and carelessly: but they do not do so, for fear of that\nimaginary \"evil thing\" in nature! _That is the cause_ why there is so\nlittle nobility to be found among men: the indication of which will\nalways be to have no fear of oneself, to expect nothing disgraceful from\noneself, to fly without hesitation whithersoever we are impelled\u2014we\nfree-born birds! Wherever we come, there will always be freedom and\nsunshine around us.\n\n\n 295.\n\n_Short-lived Habits._\u2014I love short-lived habits, and regard them as an\ninvaluable means for getting a knowledge of _many_ things and various\nconditions, to the very bottom of their sweetness and bitterness; my\nnature is altogether arranged for short-lived habits, even in the needs\nof its bodily health, and in general, _as far as_ I can see, from the\nlowest up to the highest matters. I always think that _this_ will at\nlast satisfy me permanently (the short-lived habit has also that\ncharacteristic belief of passion, the belief in everlasting duration; I\nam to be envied for having found it and recognised it), and then it\nnourishes me at noon and at eve, and spreads a profound satisfaction\naround me and in me, so that I have no longing for anything else, not\nneeding to compare, or despise, or hate. But one day the habit has had\nits time: the good thing separates from me, not as something which then\ninspires disgust in me\u2014but peaceably and as though satisfied with me, as\nI am with it; as if we had to be mutually thankful, and _thus_ shook\nhands for farewell. And already the new habit waits at the door, and\nsimilarly also my belief\u2014indestructible fool and sage that I am!\u2014that\nthis new habit will be the right one, the ultimate right one. So it is\nwith me as regards foods, thoughts, men, cities, poems, music,\ndoctrines, arrangements of the day, and modes of life.\u2014On the other\nhand, I hate _permanent_ habits, and feel as if a tyrant came into my\nneighbourhood, and as if my life's breath _condensed_, when events take\nsuch a form that permanent habits seem necessarily to grow out of them:\nfor example, through an official position, through constant\ncompanionship with the same persons, through a settled abode, or through\na uniform state of health. Indeed, from the bottom of my soul I am\ngratefully disposed to all my misery and sickness, and to whatever is\nimperfect in me, because such things leave me a hundred back-doors\nthrough which I can escape from permanent habits. The most unendurable\nthing, to be sure, the really terrible thing, would be a life without\nhabits, a life which continually required improvisation:\u2014that would be\nmy banishment and my Siberia.\n\n\n 296.\n\n_A Fixed Reputation._\u2014A fixed reputation was formerly a matter of the\nvery greatest utility; and wherever society continues to be ruled by the\nherd-instinct, it is still most suitable for every individual _to give_\nto his character and business _the appearance_ of unalterableness,\u2014even\nwhen they are not so in reality. \"One can rely on him, he remains the\nsame\"\u2014that is the praise which has most significance in all dangerous\nconditions of society. Society feels with satisfaction that it has a\nreliable _tool_ ready at all times in the virtue of this one, in the\nambition of that one, and in the reflection and passion of a third\none,\u2014it honours this _tool-like nature_, this self-constancy, this\nunchangeableness in opinions, efforts, and even in faults, with the\nhighest honours. Such a valuation, which prevails and has prevailed\neverywhere simultaneously with the morality of custom, educates\n\"characters,\" and brings all changing, re-learning, and\nself-transforming into _disrepute_. Be the advantage of this mode of\nthinking ever so great otherwise, it is in any case the mode of judging\nwhich is most injurious _to knowledge_: for precisely the good-will of\nthe knowing one ever to declare himself unhesitatingly as _opposed_ to\nhis former opinions, and in general to be distrustful of all that wants\nto be fixed in him\u2014is here condemned and brought into disrepute. The\ndisposition of the thinker, as incompatible with a \"fixed reputation,\"\nis regarded as _dishonourable_, while the petrifaction of opinions has\nall the honour to itself:\u2014we have at present still to live under the\ninterdict of such rules! How difficult it is to live when one feels that\nthe judgment of many millenniums is around one and against one. It is\nprobable that for many millenniums knowledge was afflicted with a bad\nconscience, and that there must have been much self-contempt and secret\nmisery in the history of the greatest intellects.\n\n\n 297.\n\n_Ability to Contradict._\u2014Everyone knows at present that the ability to\nendure contradiction is a high indication of culture. Some people even\nknow that the higher man courts opposition, and provokes it, so as to\nget a cue to his hitherto unknown partiality. But the _ability_ to\ncontradict, the attainment of _good_ conscience in hostility to the\naccustomed, the traditional and the hallowed,\u2014that is more than both the\nabove-named abilities, and is the really great, new and astonishing\nthing in our culture, the step of all steps of the emancipated\nintellect: who knows that?\u2014\n\n\n 298.\n\n_A Sigh._\u2014I caught this notion on the way, and rapidly took the\nreadiest, poor words to hold it fast, so that it might not again fly\naway. And now it has died in these dry words, and hangs and flaps about\nin them\u2014and I hardly know now, when I look upon it, how I could have had\nsuch happiness when I caught this bird.\n\n\n 299.\n\n_What one should Learn from Artists._\u2014What means have we for making\nthings beautiful, attractive, and desirable, when they are not so?\u2014and I\nsuppose they are never so in themselves! We have here something to learn\nfrom physicians, when, for example, they dilute what is bitter, or put\nwine and sugar into their mixing-bowl; but we have still more to learn\nfrom artists, who in fact, are continually concerned in devising such\ninventions and artifices. To withdraw from things until one no longer\nsees much of them, until one has even to see things into them, _in order\nto see them at all_\u2014or to view them from the side, and as in a frame\u2014or\nto place them so that they partly disguise themselves and only permit of\nperspective views\u2014or to look at them through coloured glasses, or in the\nlight of the sunset\u2014or to furnish them with a surface or skin which is\nnot fully transparent: we should learn all that from artists, and\nmoreover be wiser than they. For this fine power of theirs usually\nceases with them where art ceases and life begins; _we_, however, want\nto be the poets of our life, and first of all in the smallest and most\ncommonplace matters.\n\n\n 300.\n\n_Prelude to Science._\u2014Do you believe then that the sciences would have\narisen and grown up if the sorcerers, alchemists, astrologers and\nwitches had not been their forerunners; those who, with their promisings\nand foreshadowings, had first to create a thirst, a hunger, and a taste\nfor _hidden and forbidden_ powers? Yea, that infinitely more had to be\n_promised_ than could ever be fulfilled, in order that something might\nbe fulfilled in the domain of knowledge? Perhaps the whole of\n_religion_, also, may appear to some distant age as an exercise and a\nprelude, in like manner as the prelude and preparation of science here\nexhibit themselves, though _not_ at all practised and regarded as such.\nPerhaps religion may have been the peculiar means for enabling\nindividual men to enjoy but once the entire self-satisfaction of a God\nand all his self-redeeming power. Indeed!\u2014one may ask\u2014would man have\nlearned at all to get on the tracks of hunger and thirst for _himself_,\nand to extract satiety and fullness out of _himself_, without that\nreligious schooling and preliminary history? Had Prometheus first to\n_fancy_ that he had _stolen_ the light, and that he did penance for the\ntheft\u2014in order finally to discover that he had created the light, _in\nthat he had longed for the light_, and that not only man, but also _God_\nhad been the work of _his_ hands and the clay in his hands? All mere\ncreations of the creator?\u2014just as the illusion, the theft, the Caucasus,\nthe vulture, and the whole tragic Prometheia of all thinkers!\n\n\n 301.\n\n_Illusion of the Contemplative._\u2014Higher men are distinguished from\nlower, by seeing and hearing immensely more, and in a thoughtful\nmanner\u2014and it is precisely this that distinguishes man from the animal,\nand the higher animal from the lower. The world always becomes fuller\nfor him who grows up into the full stature of humanity; there are always\nmore interesting fishing-hooks, thrown out to him; the number of his\nstimuli is continually on the increase, and similarly the varieties of\nhis pleasure and pain,\u2014the higher man becomes always at the same time\nhappier and unhappier. An _illusion_, however, is his constant\naccompaniment all along: he thinks he is placed as a _spectator_ and\n_auditor_ before the great pantomime and concert of life; he calls his\nnature a _contemplative nature_, and thereby overlooks the fact that he\nhimself is also a real creator, and continuous poet of life,\u2014that he no\ndoubt differs greatly from the _actor_ in this drama, the so-called\npractical man, but differs still more from a mere onlooker or spectator\n_before_ the stage. There is certainly _vis contemplativa_, and\nre-examination of his work peculiar to him as poet, but at the same\ntime, and first and foremost, he has the _vis creativa_, which the\npractical man or doer _lacks_, whatever appearance and current belief\nmay say to the contrary. It is we, we who think and feel, that actually\nand unceasingly _make_ something which does not yet exist: the whole\neternally increasing world of valuations, colours, weights,\nperspectives, gradations, affirmations and negations. This composition\nof ours is continually learnt, practised, and translated into flesh and\nactuality, and even into the commonplace, by the so-called practical men\n(our actors, as we have said). Whatever has _value_ in the present\nworld, has it not in itself, by its nature,\u2014nature is always\nworthless:\u2014but a value was once given to it, bestowed upon it, and it\nwas _we_ who gave and bestowed! We only have created the world _which is\nof any account to man_!\u2014But it is precisely this knowledge that we lack,\nand when we get hold of it for a moment we have forgotten it the next:\nwe misunderstand our highest power, we contemplative men, and estimate\nourselves at too low a rate,\u2014we are neither as _proud nor as happy_ as\nwe might be.\n\n\n 302.\n\n_The Danger of the Happiest Ones._\u2014To have fine senses and a fine taste;\nto be accustomed to the select and the intellectually best as our proper\nand readiest fare; to be blessed with a strong, bold, and daring soul;\nto go through life with a quiet eye and a firm step, ever ready for the\nworst as for a festival, and full of longing for undiscovered worlds and\nseas, men and Gods; to listen to all joyous music, as if there, perhaps,\nbrave men, soldiers and seafarers, took a brief repose and enjoyment,\nand in the profoundest pleasure of the moment were overcome with tears\nand the whole purple melancholy of happiness: who would not like all\nthis to be _his_ possession, his condition! It was the _happiness of\nHomer_! The condition of him who invented the Gods for the Greeks,\u2014nay,\nwho invented _his_ Gods for himself! But let us not conceal the fact\nthat with this happiness of Homer in one's soul, one is more liable to\nsuffering than any other creature under the sun! And only at this price\ndo we purchase the most precious pearl that the waves of existence have\nhitherto washed ashore! As its possessor one always becomes more\nsensitive to pain, and at last too sensitive: a little displeasure and\nloathing sufficed in the end to make Homer disgusted with life. He was\nunable to solve a foolish little riddle which some young fishers\nproposed to him! Yes, the little riddles are the dangers of the happiest\nones!\u2014\n\n\n 303.\n\n_Two Happy Ones._\u2014Certainly this man, notwithstanding his youth,\nunderstands the _improvisation of life_, and astonishes even the acutest\nobservers. For it seems that he never makes a mistake, although he\nconstantly plays the most hazardous games. One is reminded of the\nimprovising masters of the musical art, to whom even the listeners would\nfain ascribe a divine _infallibility_ of the hand, notwithstanding that\nthey now and then make a mistake, as every mortal is liable to do. But\nthey are skilled and inventive, and always ready in a moment to arrange\ninto the structure of the score the most accidental tone (where the jerk\nof a finger or a humour brings it about), and to animate the accident\nwith a fine meaning and a soul.\u2014Here is quite a different man:\neverything that he intends and plans fails with him in the long run.\nThat on which he has now and again set his heart has already brought him\nseveral times to the abyss, and to the very verge of ruin; and if he has\nas yet got out of the scrape, it certainly has not been merely with a\n\"black eye.\" Do you think he is unhappy over it? He resolved long ago\nnot to regard his own wishes and plans as of so much importance. \"If\nthis does not succeed with me,\"\u2014he says to himself, \"perhaps that will\nsucceed; and on the whole I do not know but that I am under more\nobligation to thank my failures than any of my successes. Am I made to\nbe headstrong, and to wear the bull's horns? That which constitutes the\nworth and the sum of life _for me_, lies somewhere else; I know more of\nlife, because I have been so often on the point of losing it; and just\non that account I _have_ more of life than any of you!\"\n\n\n 304.\n\n_In Doing we Leave Undone._\u2014In the main all those moral systems are\ndistasteful to me which say: \"Do not do this! Renounce! Overcome\nthyself!\" On the other hand I am favourable to those moral systems which\nstimulate me to do something, and to do it again from morning till\nevening, and dream of it at night, and think of nothing else but to do\nit _well_, as well as it is possible for _me_ alone! From him who so\nlives there fall off one after the other the things that do not pertain\nto such a life: without hatred or antipathy, he sees _this_ take leave\nof him to-day, and _that_ to-morrow, like the yellow leaves which every\nlivelier breeze strips from the tree: or he does not see at all that\nthey take leave of him, so firmly is his eye fixed upon his goal, and\ngenerally forward, not sideways, backward, nor downward. \"Our doing must\ndetermine what we leave undone; in that we do, we leave undone\"\u2014so it\npleases me, so runs _my placitum_. But I do not mean to strive with open\neyes for my impoverishment; I do not like any of the negative virtues\nwhose very essence is negation and self-renunciation.\n\n\n 305.\n\n_Self-control._\u2014Those moral teachers who first and foremost order man to\nget himself into his own power, induce thereby a curious infirmity in\nhim,\u2014namely, a constant sensitiveness with reference to all natural\nstrivings and inclinations, and as it were, a sort of itching. Whatever\nmay henceforth drive him, draw him, allure or impel him, whether\ninternally or externally\u2014it always seems to this sensitive being, as if\nhis self-control were in danger: he is no longer at liberty to trust\nhimself to any instinct, to any free flight, but stands constantly with\ndefensive mien, armed against himself, with sharp distrustful eye, the\neternal watcher of his stronghold, to which office he has appointed\nhimself. Yes, he can be _great_ in that position! But how unendurable he\nhas now become to others, how difficult even for himself to bear, how\nimpoverished and cut off from the finest accidents of his soul! Yea,\neven from all further _instruction_! For we must be able to lose\nourselves at times, if we want to learn something of what we have not in\nourselves.\n\n\n 306.\n\n_Stoic and Epicurean._\u2014The Epicurean selects the situations, the\npersons, and even the events which suit his extremely sensitive,\nintellectual constitution; he renounces the rest\u2014that is to say, by far\nthe greater part of experience\u2014because it would be too strong and too\nheavy fare for him. The Stoic, on the contrary, accustoms himself to\nswallow stones and vermin, glass-splinters and scorpions, without\nfeeling any disgust: his stomach is meant to become indifferent in the\nend to all that the accidents of existence cast into it:\u2014he reminds one\nof the Arabic sect of the Assaua, with which the French became\nacquainted in Algiers; and like those insensible persons, he also likes\nwell to have an invited public at the exhibition of his insensibility,\nthe very thing the Epicurean willingly dispenses with:\u2014he has of course\nhis \"garden\"! Stoicism may be quite advisable for men with whom fate\nimprovises, for those who live in violent times and are dependent on\nabrupt and changeable individuals. He, however, who _anticipates_ that\nfate will permit him to spin \"a long thread,\" does well to make his\narrangements in Epicurean fashion; all men devoted to intellectual\nlabour have done it hitherto! For it would be a supreme loss to them to\nforfeit their fine sensibility, and acquire the hard, stoical hide with\nhedgehog prickles in exchange.\n\n\n 307.\n\n_In Favour of Criticism._\u2014Something now appears to thee as an error\nwhich thou formerly lovedst as a truth, or as a probability: thou\npushest it from thee and imaginest that thy reason has there gained a\nvictory. But perhaps that error was then, when thou wast still another\nperson\u2014thou art always another person,\u2014just as necessary to thee as all\nthy present \"truths,\" like a skin, as it were, which concealed and\nveiled from thee much which thou still mayst not see. Thy new life, and\nnot thy reason, has slain that opinion for thee: _thou dost not require\nit any longer_, and now it breaks down of its own accord, and the\nirrationality crawls out of it as a worm into the light. When we make\nuse of criticism it is not something arbitrary and impersonal,\u2014it is, at\nleast very often, a proof that there are lively, active forces in us,\nwhich cast a skin. We deny, and must deny, because something in us\n_wants_ to live and affirm itself, something which we perhaps do not as\nyet know, do not as yet see!\u2014So much in favour of criticism.\n\n\n 308.\n\n_The History of each Day._\u2014What is it that constitutes the history of\neach day for thee? Look at thy habits of which it consists: are they the\nproduct of numberless little acts of cowardice and laziness, or of thy\nbravery and inventive reason? Although the two cases are so different,\nit is possible that men might bestow the same praise upon thee, and that\nthou mightst also be equally useful to them in the one case as in the\nother. But praise and utility and respectability may suffice for him\nwhose only desire is to have a good conscience,\u2014not however for thee,\nthe \"trier of the reins,\" who hast a _consciousness of the conscience_!\n\n\n 309.\n\n_Out of the Seventh Solitude._\u2014One day the wanderer shut a door behind\nhim, stood still, and wept. Then he said: \"Oh, this inclination and\nimpulse towards the true, the real, the non-apparent, the certain! How I\ndetest it! Why does this gloomy and passionate taskmaster follow just\n_me_? I should like to rest, but it does not permit me to do so. Are\nthere not a host of things seducing me to tarry! Everywhere there are\ngardens of Armida for me, and therefore there will always be fresh\nseparations and fresh bitterness of heart! I must set my foot forward,\nmy weary wounded foot: and because I feel I must do this, I often cast\ngrim glances back at the most beautiful things which could not detain\nme\u2014_because_ they could not detain me!\"\n\n\n 310.\n\n_Will and Wave._\u2014How eagerly this wave comes hither, as if it were a\nquestion of its reaching something! How it creeps with frightful haste\ninto the innermost corners of the rocky cliff! It seems that it wants to\nforestall some one; it seems that something is concealed there that has\nvalue, high value.\u2014And now it retreats somewhat more slowly, still quite\nwhite with excitement,\u2014is it disappointed? Has it found what it sought?\nDoes it merely pretend to be disappointed?\u2014But already another wave\napproaches, still more eager and wild than the first, and its soul also\nseems to be full of secrets and of longing for treasure-seeking. Thus\nlive the waves,\u2014thus live we who exercise will!\u2014I do not say more.\u2014But\nwhat! Ye distrust me? Ye are angry at me, ye beautiful monsters? Do ye\nfear that I will quite betray your secret? Well! Just be angry with me,\nraise your green, dangerous bodies as high as ye can, make a wall\nbetween me and the sun\u2014as at present! Verily, there is now nothing more\nleft of the world save green twilight and green lightning-flashes. Do as\nye will, ye wanton creatures, roar with delight and wickedness\u2014or dive\nunder again, pour your emeralds down into the depths, and cast your\nendless white tresses of foam and spray over them\u2014it is all the same to\nme, for all is so well with you, and I am so pleased with you for it\nall: how could I betray _you_! For\u2014take this to heart!\u2014I know you and\nyour secret, I know your race! You and I are indeed of one race! You and\nI have indeed one secret!\n\n\n 311.\n\n_Broken Lights._\u2014We are not always brave, and when we are weary, people\nof our stamp are liable to lament occasionally in this wise:\u2014\"It is so\nhard to cause pain to men\u2014oh, that it should be necessary! What good is\nit to live concealed, when we do not want to keep to ourselves that\nwhich causes vexation? Would it not be more advisable to live in the\nmadding crowd, and compensate individuals for sins that are committed\nand must be committed against mankind in general? Foolish with fools,\nvain with the vain, enthusiastic with enthusiasts? Would that not be\nreasonable when there is such an inordinate amount of divergence in the\nmain? When I hear of the malignity of others against me\u2014is not my first\nfeeling that of satisfaction? It is well that it should be so!\u2014I seem to\nmyself to say to them\u2014I am so little in harmony with you, and have so\nmuch truth on my side: see henceforth that ye be merry at my expense as\noften as ye can! Here are my defects and mistakes, here are my\nillusions, my bad taste, my confusion, my tears, my vanity, my owlish\nconcealment, my contradictions! Here you have something to laugh at!\nLaugh then, and enjoy yourselves! I am not averse to the law and nature\nof things, which is that defects and errors should give pleasure!\u2014To be\nsure there were once 'more glorious' times, when as soon as any one got\nan idea, however moderately new it might be, he would think himself so\n_indispensable_ as to go out into the street with it, and call to\neverybody: 'Behold! the kingdom of heaven is at hand!'\u2014I should not miss\nmyself, if I were a-wanting. We are none of us indispensable!\"\u2014As we\nhave said, however, we do not think thus when we are brave; we do not\nthink _about it_ at all.\n\n\n 312.\n\n_My Dog._\u2014I have given a name to my suffering, and call it \"dog,\"\u2014it is\njust as faithful, just as importunate and shameless, just as\nentertaining, just as wise, as any other dog\u2014and I can domineer over it,\nand vent my bad humour on it, as others do with their dogs, servants,\nand wives.\n\n\n 313.\n\n_No Picture of a Martyr._\u2014I will take my cue from Raphael, and not paint\nany more martyr pictures. There are enough of sublime things without its\nbeing necessary to seek sublimity where it is linked with cruelty;\nmoreover my ambition would not be gratified in the least if I aspired to\nbe a sublime executioner.\n\n\n 314.\n\n_New Domestic Animals._\u2014I want to have my lion and my eagle about me,\nthat I may always have hints and premonitions concerning the amount of\nmy strength or weakness. Must I look down on them to-day, and be afraid\nof them? And will the hour come once more when they will look up to me,\nand tremble?\u2014\n\n\n 315.\n\n_The Last Hour._\u2014Storms are my danger. Shall I have my storm in which I\nshall perish, just as Oliver Cromwell perished in his storm? Or shall I\ngo out as a light does, not first blown out by the wind, but grown tired\nand weary of itself\u2014a burnt-out light? Or finally, shall I blow myself\nout, so as _not to burn out_!\n\n\n 316.\n\n_Prophetic Men._\u2014Ye cannot divine how sorely prophetic men suffer: ye\nthink only that a fine \"gift\" has been given to them, and would fain\nhave it yourselves,\u2014but I will express my meaning by a simile. How much\nmay not the animals suffer from the electricity of the atmosphere and\nthe clouds! Some of them, as we see, have a prophetic faculty with\nregard to the weather, for example, apes (as one can observe very well\neven in Europe,\u2014and not only in menageries, but at Gibraltar). But it\nnever occurs to us that it is their _sufferings_\u2014that are their\nprophets! When strong positive electricity, under the influence of an\napproaching cloud not at all visible, is suddenly converted into\nnegative electricity, and an alteration of the weather is imminent,\nthese animals then behave as if an enemy were approaching them, and\nprepare for defence, or flight: they generally hide themselves,\u2014they do\nnot think of the bad weather as weather, but as an enemy whose hand they\nalready _feel_!\n\n\n 317.\n\n_Retrospect._\u2014We seldom become conscious of the real pathos of any\nperiod of life as such, as long as we continue in it, but always think\nit is the only possible and reasonable thing for us henceforth, and that\nit is altogether _ethos_ and not _pathos_[10]\u2014to speak and distinguish\nlike the Greeks. A few notes of music to-day recalled a winter and a\nhouse, and a life of utter solitude to my mind, and at the same time the\nsentiments in which I then lived: I thought I should be able to live in\nsuch a state always. But now I understand that it was entirely pathos\nand passion, something comparable to this painfully bold and truly\ncomforting music,\u2014it is not one's lot to have these sensations for\nyears, still less for eternities: otherwise one would become too\n\"ethereal\" for this planet.\n\n\n 318.\n\n_Wisdom in Pain._\u2014In pain there is as much wisdom as in pleasure: like\nthe latter it is one of the best self-preservatives of a species. Were\nit not so, pain would long ago have been done away with; that it is\nhurtful is no argument against it, for to be hurtful is its very\nessence. In pain I hear the commanding call of the ship's captain: \"Take\nin sail!\" \"Man,\" the bold seafarer, must have learned to set his sails\nin a thousand different ways, otherwise he could not have sailed long,\nfor the ocean would soon have swallowed him up. We must also know how to\nlive with reduced energy: as soon as pain gives its precautionary\nsignal, it is time to reduce the speed\u2014some great danger, some storm, is\napproaching, and we do well to \"catch\" as little wind as possible.\u2014It is\ntrue that there are men who, on the approach of severe pain, hear the\nvery opposite call of command, and never appear more proud, more\nmartial, or more happy, than when the storm is brewing; indeed, pain\nitself provides them with their supreme moments! These are the heroic\nmen, the great _pain-bringers_ of mankind: those few and rare ones who\nneed just the same apology as pain generally,\u2014and verily, it should not\nbe denied them! They are forces of the greatest importance for\npreserving and advancing the species, were it only because they are\nopposed to smug ease, and do not conceal their disgust at this kind of\nhappiness.\n\n\n 319.\n\n_As Interpreters of our Experiences._\u2014One form of honesty has always\nbeen lacking among founders of religions and their kin:\u2014they have never\nmade their experiences a matter of the intellectual conscience. \"What\ndid I really experience? What then took place in me and around me? Was\nmy understanding clear enough? Was my will directly opposed to all\ndeception of the senses, and courageous in its defence against fantastic\nnotions?\"\u2014None of them ever asked these questions, nor to this day do\nany of the good religious people ask them. They have rather a thirst for\nthings which are _contrary to reason_, and they don't want to have too\nmuch difficulty in satisfying this thirst,\u2014so they experience \"miracles\"\nand \"regenerations,\" and hear the voices of angels! But we who are\ndifferent, who are thirsty for reason, want to look as carefully into\nour experiences, as in the case of a scientific experiment, hour by\nhour, day by day! We ourselves want to be our own experiments, and our\nown subjects of experiment.\n\n\n 320.\n\n_On Meeting Again._\u2014A: Do I quite understand you? You are in search of\nsomething? _Where_, in the midst of the present, actual world, is _your_\nniche and star? Where can _you_ lay yourself in the sun, so that you\nalso may have a surplus of well-being, that your existence may justify\nitself? Let everyone do that for himself\u2014you seem to say, \u2014and let him\nput talk about generalities, concern about others and society, out of\nhis mind!\u2014B: I want more; I am no seeker. I want to create my own sun\nfor myself.\n\n\n 321.\n\n_A New Precaution._\u2014Let us no longer think so much about punishing,\nblaming, and improving! We shall seldom be able to alter an individual,\nand if we should succeed in doing so, something else may also succeed,\nperhaps unawares: _we_ may have been altered by him! Let us rather see\nto it that our own influence on _all that is to come_ outweighs and\noverweighs his influence! Let us not struggle in direct conflict!\u2014all\nblaming, punishing, and desire to improve comes under this category. But\nlet us elevate ourselves all the higher! Let us ever give to our pattern\nmore shining colours! Let us obscure the other by our light! No! We do\nnot mean to become _darker_ ourselves on his account, like all that\npunish and are discontented! Let us rather go aside! Let us look away!\n\n\n 322.\n\n_A Simile._\u2014Those thinkers in whom all the stars move in cyclic orbits,\nare not the most profound. He who looks into himself, as into an immense\nuniverse, and carries Milky Ways in himself, knows also how irregular\nall Milky Ways are; they lead into the very chaos and labyrinth of\nexistence.\n\n\n 323.\n\n_Happiness in Destiny._\u2014Destiny confers its greatest distinction upon us\nwhen it has made us fight for a time on the side of our adversaries. We\nare thereby _predestined_ to a great victory.\n\n\n 324.\n\n_In Media Vita._\u2014No! Life has not deceived me! On the contrary, from\nyear to year I find it richer, more desirable and more mysterious\u2014from\nthe day on which the great liberator broke my fetters, the thought that\nlife may be an experiment of the thinker\u2014and not a duty, not a fatality,\nnot a deceit!\u2014And knowledge itself may be for others something\ndifferent; for example, a bed of ease, or the path to a bed of ease, or\nan entertainment, or a course of idling,\u2014for me it is a world of dangers\nand victories, in which even the heroic sentiments have their arena and\ndancing-floor. \"_Life as a means to knowledge_\"\u2014with this principle in\none's heart, one can not only be brave, but can even _live joyfully and\nlaugh joyfully_! And who could know how to laugh well and live well, who\ndid not first understand the full meaning of war and victory!\n\n\n 325.\n\n_What Belongs to Greatness._\u2014Who can attain to anything great if he does\nnot feel the force and will in himself _to inflict_ great pain? The\nability to suffer is a small matter: in that line, weak women and even\nslaves often attain masterliness. But not to perish from internal\ndistress and doubt when one inflicts great anguish and hears the cry of\nthis anguish\u2014that is great, that belongs to greatness.\n\n\n 326.\n\n_Physicians of the Soul and Pain._\u2014All preachers of morality, as also\nall theologians, have a bad habit in common: all of them try to persuade\nman that he is very ill, and that a severe, final, radical cure is\nnecessary. And because mankind as a whole has for centuries listened too\neagerly to those teachers, something of the superstition that the human\nrace is in a very bad way has actually come over men: so that they are\nnow far too ready to sigh; they find nothing more in life and make\nmelancholy faces at each other, as if life were indeed very hard _to\nendure_. In truth, they are inordinately assured of their life and in\nlove with it, and full of untold intrigues and subtleties for\nsuppressing everything disagreeable and for extracting the thorn from\npain and misfortune. It seems to me that people always speak _with\nexaggeration_ about pain and misfortune, as if it were a matter of good\nbehaviour to exaggerate here: on the other hand people are intentionally\nsilent in regard to the number of expedients for alleviating pain; as\nfor instance, the deadening of it, or feverish flurry of thought, or a\npeaceful position, or good and bad reminiscences, intentions,\nhopes,\u2014also many kinds of pride and fellow-feeling which have almost the\neffect of an\u00e6sthetics: while in the greatest degree of pain fainting\ntakes place of itself. We understand very well how to pour sweetness on\nour bitterness, especially on the bitterness of our soul; we find a\nremedy in our bravery and sublimity, as well as in the nobler delirium\nof submission and resignation. A loss scarcely remains a loss for an\nhour: in some way or other a gift from heaven has always fallen into our\nlap at the same moment\u2014a new form of strength, for example: be it but a\nnew opportunity for the exercise of strength! What have the preachers of\nmorality not dreamt concerning the inner \"misery\" of evil men! What\n_lies_ have they not told us about the misfortunes of impassioned men!\nYes, lying is here the right word: they were only too well aware of the\noverflowing happiness of this kind of man, but they kept silent as death\nabout it; because it was a refutation of their theory, according to\nwhich happiness only originates through the annihilation of the passions\nand the silencing of the will! And finally, as regards the recipe of all\nthose physicians of the soul and their recommendation of a severe\nradical cure, we may be allowed to ask: Is our life really painful and\nburdensome enough for us to exchange it with advantage for a Stoical\nmode of life, and Stoical petrification? We do _not_ feel _sufficiently\nmiserable_ to have to feel ill in the Stoical fashion!\n\n\n 327.\n\n_Taking Things Seriously._\u2014The intellect is with most people an awkward,\nobscure and creaking machine, which is difficult to set in motion: they\ncall it \"_taking a thing seriously_\" when they work with this machine,\nand want to think well\u2014oh, how burdensome must good thinking be to them!\nThat delightful animal, man, seems to lose his good-humour whenever he\nthinks well; he becomes \"serious\"! And \"where there is laughing and\ngaiety, thinking cannot be worth anything:\"\u2014so speaks the prejudice of\nthis serious animal against all \"Joyful Wisdom.\"\u2014Well, then! Let us show\nthat it is prejudice!\n\n\n 328.\n\n_Doing Harm to Stupidity._\u2014It is certain that the belief in the\nreprehensibility of egoism, preached with such stubbornness and\nconviction, has on the whole done harm to egoism (_in favour of the\nherd-instinct_, as I shall repeat a hundred times!), especially by\ndepriving it of a good conscience, and bidding us seek in it the true\nsource of all misfortune. \"Thy selfishness is the bane of thy life\"\u2014so\nrang the preaching for millenniums: it did harm, as we have said, to\nselfishness, and deprived it of much spirit, much cheerfulness, much\ningenuity, and much beauty; it stultified and deformed and poisoned\nselfishness!\u2014Philosophical antiquity, on the other hand, taught that\nthere was another principal source of evil: from Socrates downwards, the\nthinkers were never weary of preaching that \"your thoughtlessness and\nstupidity, your unthinking way of living according to rule, and your\nsubjection to the opinion of your neighbour, are the reasons why you so\nseldom attain to happiness,\u2014we thinkers are, as thinkers, the happiest\nof mortals.\" Let us not decide here whether this preaching against\nstupidity was more sound than the preaching against selfishness; it is\ncertain, however, that stupidity was thereby deprived of its good\nconscience:\u2014these philosophers _did harm to stupidity_.\n\n\n 329.\n\n_Leisure and Idleness._\u2014There is an Indian savagery, a savagery peculiar\nto the Indian blood, in the manner in which the Americans strive after\ngold: and the breathless hurry of their work\u2014the characteristic vice of\nthe new world\u2014already begins to infect old Europe, and makes it savage\nalso, spreading over it a strange lack of intellectuality. One is now\nashamed of repose: even long reflection almost causes remorse of\nconscience. Thinking is done with a stop-watch, as dining is done with\nthe eyes fixed on the financial newspaper; we live like men who are\ncontinually \"afraid of letting opportunities slip.\" \"Better do anything\nwhatever, than nothing\"\u2014this principle also is a noose with which all\nculture and all higher taste may be strangled. And just as all form\nobviously disappears in this hurry of workers, so the sense for form\nitself, the ear and the eye for the melody of movement, also disappear.\nThe proof of this is the _clumsy perspicuity_ which is now everywhere\ndemanded in all positions where a person would like to be sincere with\nhis fellows, in intercourse with friends, women, relatives, children,\nteachers, pupils, leaders and princes,\u2014one has no longer either time or\nenergy for ceremonies, for roundabout courtesies, for any _esprit_ in\nconversation, or for any _otium_ whatever. For life in the hunt for gain\ncontinually compels a person to consume his intellect, even to\nexhaustion, in constant dissimulation, overreaching, or forestalling:\nthe real virtue nowadays is to do something in a shorter time than\nanother person. And so there are only rare hours of sincere intercourse\n_permitted_: in them, however, people are tired, and would not only like\n\"to let themselves go,\" but _to stretch their legs_ out wide in awkward\nstyle. The way people write their _letters_ nowadays is quite in keeping\nwith the age; their style and spirit will always be the true \"sign of\nthe times.\" If there be still enjoyment in society and in art, it is\nenjoyment such as over-worked slaves provide for themselves. Oh, this\nmoderation in \"joy\" of our cultured and uncultured classes! Oh, this\nincreasing suspiciousness of all enjoyment! _Work_ is winning over more\nand more the good conscience to its side: the desire for enjoyment\nalready calls itself \"need of recreation,\" and even begins to be ashamed\nof itself. \"One owes it to one's health,\" people say, when they are\ncaught at a picnic. Indeed, it might soon go so far that one could not\nyield to the desire for the _vita contemplativa_ (that is to say,\nexcursions with thoughts and friends), without self-contempt and a bad\nconscience.\u2014Well! Formerly it was the very reverse: it was \"action\" that\nsuffered from a bad conscience. A man of good family _concealed_ his\nwork when need compelled him to labour. The slave laboured under the\nweight of the feeling that he did something contemptible:\u2014the \"doing\"\nitself was something contemptible. \"Only in _otium_ and _bellum_ is\nthere nobility and honour:\" so rang the voice of ancient prejudice!\n\n\n 330.\n\n_Applause._\u2014The thinker does not need applause nor the clapping of\nhands, provided he be sure of the clapping of his own hands: the latter,\nhowever, he cannot do without. Are there men who could also do without\nthis, and in general without any kind of applause? I doubt it: and even\nas regards the wisest, Tacitus, who is no calumniator of the wise, says:\n_quando etiam sapientibus glori\u00e6 cupido novissima exuitur_\u2014that means\nwith him: never.\n\n\n 331.\n\n_Better Deaf than Deafened._\u2014Formerly a person wanted to have a\n_calling_, but that no longer suffices to-day, for the market has become\ntoo large,\u2014there has now to be _bawling_. The consequence is that even\ngood throats outcry each other, and the best wares are offered for sale\nwith hoarse voices; without market-place bawling and hoarseness there is\nnow no longer any genius.\u2014It is, sure enough, an evil age for the\nthinker: he has to learn to find his stillness betwixt two noises, and\nhas to pretend to be deaf until he finally becomes so. As long as he has\nnot learned this, he is in danger of perishing from impatience and\nheadaches.\n\n\n 332.\n\n_The Evil Hour._\u2014There has perhaps been an evil hour for every\nphilosopher, in which he thought: What do I matter, if people should not\nbelieve my poor arguments!\u2014And then some malicious bird has flown past\nhim and twittered: \"What do you matter? What do you matter?\"\n\n\n 333.\n\n_What does Knowing Mean?_\u2014_Non ridere, non lugere, neque detestari, sed\nintelligere!_ says Spinoza, so simply and sublimely, as is his wont.\nNevertheless, what else is this _intelligere_ ultimately, but just the\nform in which the three other things become perceptible to us all at\nonce? A result of the diverging and opposite impulses of desiring to\nderide, lament and execrate? Before knowledge is possible each of these\nimpulses must first have brought forward its one-sided view of the\nobject or event. The struggle of these one-sided views occurs\nafterwards, and out of it there occasionally arises a compromise, a\npacification, a recognition of rights on all three sides, a sort of\njustice and agreement: for in virtue of the justice and agreement all\nthose impulses can maintain themselves in existence and retain their\nmutual rights. We, to whose consciousness only the closing\nreconciliation scenes and final settling of accounts of these long\nprocesses manifest themselves, think on that account that _intelligere_\nis something conciliating, just and good, something essentially\nantithetical to the impulses; whereas it is only _a certain relation of\nthe impulses to one another_. For a very long time conscious thinking\nwas regarded as thinking proper: it is now only that the truth dawns\nupon us that the greater part of our intellectual activity goes on\nunconsciously and unfelt by us; I believe, however, that the impulses\nwhich are here in mutual conflict understand right well how to make\nthemselves felt by _one another_, and how to cause pain:\u2014the violent,\nsudden exhaustion which overtakes all thinkers, may have its origin here\n(it is the exhaustion of the battle-field). Aye, perhaps in our\nstruggling interior there is much concealed _heroism_, but certainly\nnothing divine, or eternally-reposing-in-itself, as Spinoza supposed.\n_Conscious_ thinking, and especially that of the philosopher, is the\nweakest, and on that account also the relatively mildest and quietest\nmode of thinking: and thus it is precisely the philosopher who is most\neasily misled concerning the nature of knowledge.\n\n\n 334.\n\n_One must Learn to Love._\u2014This is our experience in music: we must first\n_learn_ in general _to hear_, to hear fully, and to distinguish a theme\nor a melody, we have to isolate and limit it as a life by itself; then\nwe need to exercise effort and good-will in order _to endure_ it in\nspite of its strangeness, we need patience towards its aspect and\nexpression, and indulgence towards what is odd in it:\u2014in the end there\ncomes a moment when we are _accustomed_ to it, when we expect it, when\nit dawns upon us that we should miss it if it were lacking; and then it\ngoes on to exercise its spell and charm more and more, and does not\ncease until we have become its humble and enraptured lovers, who want\nit, and want it again, and ask for nothing better from the world.\u2014It is\nthus with us, however, not only in music: it is precisely thus that we\nhave _learned to love_ all things that we now love. We are always\nfinally recompensed for our good-will, our patience, reasonableness and\ngentleness towards what is unfamiliar, by the unfamiliar slowly throwing\noff its veil and presenting itself to us as a new, ineffable\nbeauty:\u2014that is its _thanks_ for our hospitality. He also who loves\nhimself must have learned it in this way: there is no other way. Love\nalso has to be learned.\n\n\n 335.\n\n_Cheers for Physics!_\u2014How many men are there who know how to observe?\nAnd among the few who do know,\u2014how many observe themselves? \"Everyone is\nfurthest from himself\"\u2014all the \"triers of the reins\" know that to their\ndiscomfort; and the saying, \"Know thyself,\" in the mouth of a God and\nspoken to man, is almost a mockery. But that the case of\nself-observation is so desperate, is attested best of all by the manner\nin which _almost everybody_ talks of the nature of a moral action, that\nprompt, willing, convinced, loquacious manner, with its look, its smile,\nand its pleasing eagerness! Everyone seems inclined to say to you: \"Why,\nmy dear Sir, that is precisely _my_ affair! You address yourself with\nyour question to him who _is authorised_ to answer, for I happen to be\nwiser with regard to this matter than in anything else. Therefore, when\na man decides that '_this is right_,' when he accordingly concludes that\n'_it must therefore be done_,' and thereupon _does_ what he has thus\nrecognised as right and designated as necessary\u2014then the nature of his\naction is _moral_!\" But, my friend, you are talking to me about three\nactions instead of one: your deciding, for instance, that \"this is\nright,\" is also an action,\u2014could one not judge either morally or\nimmorally? _Why_ do you regard this, and just this, as right?\u2014\"Because\nmy conscience tells me so; conscience never speaks immorally, indeed it\ndetermines in the first place what shall be moral!\"\u2014But why do you\n_listen_ to the voice of your conscience? And in how far are you\njustified in regarding such a judgment as true and infallible? This\n_belief_\u2014is there no further conscience for it? Do you know nothing of\nan intellectual conscience? A conscience behind your \"conscience\"? Your\ndecision, \"this is right,\" has a previous history in your impulses, your\nlikes and dislikes, your experiences and non-experiences; \"_how_ has it\noriginated?\" you must ask, and afterwards the further question: \"_what_\nreally impels me to give ear to it?\" You can listen to its command like\na brave soldier who hears the command of his officer. Or like a woman\nwho loves him who commands. Or like a flatterer and coward, afraid of\nthe commander. Or like a blockhead who follows because he has nothing to\nsay to the contrary. In short, you can give ear to your conscience in a\nhundred different ways. But _that_ you hear this or that judgment as the\nvoice of conscience, consequently, _that_ you feel a thing to be\nright\u2014may have its cause in the fact that you have never reflected about\nyourself, and have blindly accepted from your childhood what has been\ndesignated to you as _right_: or in the fact that hitherto bread and\nhonours have fallen to your share with that which you call your duty,\u2014it\nis \"right\" to you, because it seems to be _your_ \"condition of\nexistence\" (that you, however, have a _right_ to existence appears to\nyou as irrefutable!). The _persistency_ of your moral judgment might\nstill be just a proof of personal wretchedness or impersonality; your\n\"moral force\" might have its source in your obstinacy\u2014or in your\nincapacity to perceive new ideals! And to be brief: if you had thought\nmore acutely, observed more accurately, and had learned more, you would\nno longer under all circumstances call this and that your \"duty\" and\nyour \"conscience\": the knowledge _how moral judgments have in general\nalways originated_, would make you tired of these pathetic words,\u2014as you\nhave already grown tired of other pathetic words, for instance \"sin,\"\n\"salvation,\" and \"redemption.\"\u2014And now, my friend, do not talk to me\nabout the categorical imperative! That word tickles my ear, and I must\nlaugh in spite of your presence and your seriousness. In this connection\nI recollect old Kant, who, as a punishment for having _gained possession\nsurreptitiously_ of the \"thing in itself\"\u2014also a very ludicrous\naffair!\u2014was imposed upon by the categorical imperative, and with that in\nhis heart _strayed back again_ to \"God,\" the \"soul,\" \"freedom,\" and\n\"immortality,\" like a fox which strays back into its cage: and it had\nbeen _his_ strength and shrewdness which had _broken open_ this\ncage!\u2014What? You admire the categorical imperative in you? This\n\"persistency\" of your so-called moral judgment? This absoluteness of the\nfeeling that \"as I think on this matter, so must everyone think\"? Admire\nrather your _selfishness_ therein! And the blindness, paltriness, and\nmodesty of your selfishness! For it is selfishness in a person to regard\n_his_ judgment as universal law, and a blind, paltry and modest\nselfishness besides, because it betrays that you have not yet discovered\nyourself, that you have not yet created for yourself any individual,\nquite individual ideal:\u2014for this could never be the ideal of another, to\nsay nothing of all, of every one!\u2014\u2014He who still thinks that \"each would\nhave to act in this manner in this case,\" has not yet advanced half a\ndozen paces in self-knowledge: otherwise he would know that there\nneither are nor can be similar actions,\u2014that every action that has been\ndone, has been done in an entirely unique and inimitable manner, and\nthat it will be the same with regard to all future actions; that all\nprecepts of conduct (and even the most esoteric and subtle precepts of\nall moralities up to the present), apply only to the coarse\nexterior,\u2014that by means of them, indeed, a semblance of equality can be\nattained, _but only a semblance_,\u2014that in outlook or retrospect, _every_\naction is and remains an impenetrable affair,\u2014that our opinions of\n\"good,\" \"noble\" and \"great\" can never be demonstrated by our actions,\nbecause no action is cognisable,\u2014that our opinions, estimates, and\ntables of values are certainly among the most powerful levers in the\nmechanism of our actions, that in every single case, nevertheless, the\nlaw of their mechanism is untraceable. Let us _confine_ ourselves,\ntherefore, to the purification of our opinions and appreciations, and to\nthe _construction of new tables of value of our own_:\u2014we will, however,\nbrood no longer over the \"moral worth of our actions\"! Yes, my friends!\nAs regards the whole moral twaddle of people about one another, it is\ntime to be disgusted with it! To sit in judgment morally ought to be\nopposed to our taste! Let us leave this nonsense and this bad taste to\nthose who have nothing else to do, save to drag the past a little\ndistance further through time, and who are never themselves the\npresent,\u2014consequently to the many, to the majority! We, however, _would\nseek to become what we are_,\u2014the new, the unique, the incomparable,\nmaking laws for ourselves and creating ourselves! And for this purpose\nwe must become the best students and discoverers of all the laws and\nnecessities in the world. We must be _physicists_ in order to be\n_creators_ in that sense,\u2014whereas hitherto all appreciations and ideals\nhave been based on _ignorance_ of physics, or in _contradiction_ to it.\nAnd therefore, three cheers for physics! And still louder cheers for\nthat which _impels_ us to it\u2014our honesty.\n\n\n 336.\n\n_Avarice of Nature._\u2014Why has nature been so niggardly towards humanity\nthat she has not let human beings shine, this man more and that man\nless, according to their inner abundance of light? Why have not great\nmen such a fine visibility in their rising and setting as the sun? How\nmuch less equivocal would life among men then be!\n\n\n 337.\n\n_Future \"Humanity.\"_\u2014When I look at this age with the eye of a distant\nfuture, I find nothing so remarkable in the man of the present day as\nhis peculiar virtue and sickness called \"the historical sense.\" It is a\ntendency to something quite new and foreign in history: if this embryo\nwere given several centuries and more, there might finally evolve out of\nit a marvellous plant, with a smell equally marvellous, on account of\nwhich our old earth might be more pleasant to live in than it has been\nhitherto. We moderns are just beginning to form the chain of a very\npowerful, future sentiment, link by link,\u2014we hardly know what we are\ndoing. It almost seems to us as if it were not the question of a new\nsentiment, but of the decline of all old sentiments:\u2014the historical\nsense is still something so poor and cold, and many are attacked by it\nas by a frost, and are made poorer and colder by it. To others it\nappears as the indication of stealthily approaching age, and our planet\nis regarded by them as a melancholy invalid, who, in order to forget his\npresent condition, writes the history of his youth. In fact, this is one\naspect of the new sentiment. He who knows how to regard the history of\nman in its entirety as _his own history_, feels in the immense\ngeneralisation all the grief of the invalid who thinks of health, of the\nold man who thinks of the dream of his youth, of the lover who is robbed\nof his beloved, of the martyr whose ideal is destroyed, of the hero on\nthe evening of the indecisive battle which has brought him wounds and\nthe loss of a friend. But to bear this immense sum of grief of all\nkinds, to be able to bear it, and yet still be the hero who at the\ncommencement of a second day of battle greets the dawn and his\nhappiness, as one who has an horizon of centuries before and behind him,\nas the heir of all nobility, of all past intellect, and the obligatory\nheir (as the noblest) of all the old nobles; while at the same time the\nfirst of a new nobility, the equal of which has never been seen nor even\ndreamt of: to take all this upon his soul, the oldest, the newest, the\nlosses, hopes, conquests, and victories of mankind: to have all this at\nlast in one soul, and to comprise it in one feeling:\u2014this would\nnecessarily furnish a happiness which man has not hitherto known,\u2014a\nGod's happiness, full of power and love, full of tears and laughter, a\nhappiness which, like the sun in the evening, continually gives of its\ninexhaustible riches and empties into the sea,\u2014and like the sun, too,\nfeels itself richest when even the poorest fisherman rows with golden\noars! This divine feeling might then be called\u2014humanity!\n\n\n 338.\n\n_The Will to Suffering and the Compassionate._\u2014Is it to your advantage\nto be above all compassionate? And is it to the advantage of the\nsufferers when you are so? But let us leave the first question for a\nmoment without an answer.\u2014That from which we suffer most profoundly and\npersonally is almost incomprehensible and inaccessible to every one\nelse: in this matter we are hidden from our neighbour even when he eats\nat the same table with us. Everywhere, however, where we are _noticed_\nas sufferers, our suffering is interpreted in a shallow way; it belongs\nto the nature of the emotion of pity to _divest_ unfamiliar suffering of\nits properly personal character:\u2014our \"benefactors\" lower our value and\nvolition more than our enemies. In most benefits which are conferred on\nthe unfortunate there is something shocking in the intellectual levity\nwith which the compassionate person plays the r\u00f4le of fate: he knows\nnothing of all the inner consequences and complications which are called\nmisfortune for _me_ or for _you_! The entire economy of my soul and its\nadjustment by \"misfortune,\" the uprising of new sources and needs, the\nclosing up of old wounds, the repudiation of whole periods of the\npast\u2014none of these things which may be connected with misfortune\npreoccupy the dear sympathiser. He wishes _to succour_, and does not\nreflect that there is a personal necessity for misfortune; that terror,\nwant, impoverishment, midnight watches, adventures, hazards and mistakes\nare as necessary to me and to you as their opposites, yea, that, to\nspeak mystically, the path to one's own heaven always leads through the\nvoluptuousness of one's own hell. No, he knows nothing thereof. The\n\"religion of compassion\" (or \"the heart\") bids him help, and he thinks\nhe has helped best when he has helped most speedily! If you adherents of\nthis religion actually have the same sentiments towards yourselves which\nyou have towards your fellows, if you are unwilling to endure your own\nsuffering even for an hour, and continually forestall all possible\nmisfortune, if you regard suffering and pain generally as evil, as\ndetestable, as deserving of annihilation, and as blots on existence,\nwell, you have then, besides your religion of compassion, yet another\nreligion in your heart (and this is perhaps the mother of the\nformer)\u2014_the religion of smug ease_. Ah, how little you know of the\n_happiness_ of man, you comfortable and good-natured ones!\u2014for happiness\nand misfortune are brother and sister, and twins, who grow tall\ntogether, or, as with you, _remain small_ together! But now let us\nreturn to the first question.\u2014How is it at all possible for a person to\nkeep to _his_ path! Some cry or other is continually calling one aside:\nour eye then rarely lights on anything without it becoming necessary for\nus to leave for a moment our own affairs and rush to give assistance. I\nknow there are hundreds of respectable and laudable methods of making me\nstray _from my course_, and in truth the most \"moral\" of methods!\nIndeed, the opinion of the present-day preachers of the morality of\ncompassion goes so far as to imply that just this, and this alone is\nmoral:\u2014to stray from _our_ course to that extent and to run to the\nassistance of our neighbour. I am equally certain that I need only give\nmyself over to the sight of one case of actual distress, and I, too,\n_am_ lost! And if a suffering friend said to me, \"See, I shall soon die,\nonly promise to die with me\"\u2014I might promise it, just as\u2014to select for\nonce bad examples for good reasons\u2014the sight of a small, mountain people\nstruggling for freedom, would bring me to the point of offering them my\nhand and my life. Indeed, there is even a secret seduction in all this\nawakening of compassion, and calling for help: our \"own way\" is a thing\ntoo hard and insistent, and too far removed from the love and gratitude\nof others,\u2014we escape from it and from our most personal conscience, not\nat all unwillingly, and, seeking security in the conscience of others,\nwe take refuge in the lovely temple of the \"religion of pity.\" As soon\nnow as any war breaks out, there always breaks out at the same time a\ncertain secret delight precisely in the noblest class of the people:\nthey rush with rapture to meet the new danger of _death_, because they\nbelieve that in the sacrifice for their country they have finally that\nlong-sought-for permission\u2014the permission _to shirk their aim_:\u2014war is\nfor them a detour to suicide, a detour, however, with a good conscience.\nAnd although silent here about some things, I will not, however, be\nsilent about my morality, which says to me: Live in concealment in order\nthat thou _mayest_ live to thyself. Live _ignorant_ of that which seems\nto thy age to be most important! Put at least the skin of three\ncenturies betwixt thyself and the present day! And the clamour of the\npresent day, the noise of wars and revolutions, ought to be a murmur to\nthee! Thou wilt also want to help, but only those whose distress thou\nentirely _understandest_, because they have _one_ sorrow and _one_ hope\nin common with thee\u2014thy _friends_: and only in _the_ way that thou\nhelpest thyself:\u2014I want to make them more courageous, more enduring,\nmore simple, more joyful! I want to teach them that which at present so\nfew understand, and the preachers of fellowship in sorrow least of\nall:\u2014namely, _fellowship in joy_!\n\n\n 339.\n\n_Vita femina._\u2014To see the ultimate beauties in a work\u2014all knowledge and\ngood-will is not enough; it requires the rarest, good chance for the\nveil of clouds to move for once from the summits, and for the sun to\nshine on them. We must not only stand at precisely the right place to\nsee this, our very soul itself must have pulled away the veil from its\nheights, and must be in need of an external expression and simile, so as\nto have a support and remain master of itself. All these, however, are\nso rarely united at the same time that I am inclined to believe that the\nhighest summit of all that is good, be it work, deed, man, or nature,\nhas hitherto remained for most people, and even for the best, as\nsomething concealed and shrouded:\u2014that, however, which unveils itself to\nus, _unveils itself to us but once_. The Greeks indeed prayed: \"Twice\nand thrice, everything beautiful!\" Ah, they had their good reason to\ncall on the Gods, for ungodly actuality does not furnish us with the\nbeautiful at all, or only does so once! I mean to say that the world is\noverfull of beautiful things, but it is nevertheless poor, very poor, in\nbeautiful moments, and in the unveiling of those beautiful things. But\nperhaps this is the greatest charm of life: it puts a gold-embroidered\nveil of lovely potentialities over itself, promising, resisting, modest,\nmocking, sympathetic, seductive. Yes, life is a woman!\n\n\n 340.\n\n_The Dying Socrates._\u2014I admire the courage and wisdom of Socrates in all\nthat he did, said\u2014and did not say. This mocking and amorous demon and\nrat-catcher of Athens, who made the most insolent youths tremble and sob\nwas not only the wisest babbler that has ever lived, but was just as\ngreat in his silence. I would that he had also been silent in the last\nmoment of his life,\u2014perhaps he might then have belonged to a still\nhigher order of intellects. Whether it was death, or the poison, or\npiety, or wickedness\u2014something or other loosened his tongue at that\nmoment, and he said: \"O Crito, I owe a cock to Asclepios.\" For him who\nhas ears, this ludicrous and terrible \"last word\" implies: \"O Crito,\n_life is a long sickness_!\" Is it possible! A man like him, who had\nlived cheerfully and to all appearance as a soldier,\u2014was a pessimist! He\nhad merely put on a good demeanour towards life, and had all along\nconcealed his ultimate judgment, his profoundest sentiment! Socrates,\nSocrates _had suffered from life_! And he also took his revenge for\nit\u2014with that veiled, fearful, pious, and blasphemous phrase! Had even a\nSocrates to revenge himself? Was there a grain too little of magnanimity\nin his superabundant virtue? Ah, my friends! We must surpass even the\nGreeks!\n\n\n 341.\n\n_The Heaviest Burden._\u2014What if a demon crept after thee into thy\nloneliest loneliness some day or night, and said to thee: \"This life, as\nthou livest it at present, and hast lived it, thou must live it once\nmore, and also innumerable times; and there will be nothing new in it,\nbut every pain and every joy and every thought and every sigh, and all\nthe unspeakably small and great in thy life must come to thee again, and\nall in the same series and sequence\u2014and similarly this spider and this\nmoonlight among the trees, and similarly this moment, and I myself. The\neternal sand-glass of existence will ever be turned once more, and thou\nwith it, thou speck of dust!\"\u2014Wouldst thou not throw thyself down and\ngnash thy teeth, and curse the demon that so spake? Or hast thou once\nexperienced a tremendous moment in which thou wouldst answer him: \"Thou\nart a God, and never did I hear aught more divine!\" If that thought\nacquired power over thee, as thou art, it would transform thee, and\nperhaps crush thee; the question with regard to all and everything:\n\"Dost thou want this once more, and also for innumerable times?\" would\nlie as the heaviest burden upon thy activity! Or, how wouldst thou have\nto become favourably inclined to thyself and to life, so as _to long for\nnothing more ardently_ than for this last eternal sanctioning and\nsealing?\u2014\n\n\n 342.\n\n_Incipit Trag\u0153dia._\u2014When Zarathustra was thirty years old, he left his\nhome and the Lake of Urmi, and went into the mountains. There he enjoyed\nhis spirit and his solitude, and for ten years did not weary of it. But\nat last his heart changed,\u2014and rising one morning with the rosy dawn, he\nwent before the sun and spake thus unto it: \"Thou great star! What would\nbe thy happiness if thou hadst not those for whom thou shinest! For ten\nyears hast thou climbed hither unto my cave: thou wouldst have wearied\nof thy light and of the journey, had it not been for me, mine eagle, and\nmy serpent. But we awaited thee every morning, took from thee thine\noverflow, and blessed thee for it. Lo! I am weary of my wisdom, like the\nbee that hath gathered too much honey; I need hands outstretched to take\nit. I would fain bestow and distribute, until the wise have once more\nbecome joyous in their folly, and the poor happy in their riches.\nTherefore must I descend into the deep, as thou doest in the evening,\nwhen thou goest behind the sea and givest light also to the\nnether-world, thou most rich star! Like thee must I _go down_, as men\nsay, to whom I shall descend. Bless me then, thou tranquil eye, that\ncanst behold even the greatest happiness without envy! Bless the cup\nthat is about to overflow, that the water may flow golden out of it, and\ncarry everywhere the reflection of thy bliss! Lo! This cup is again\ngoing to empty itself, and Zarathustra is again going to be a man.\"\u2014Thus\nbegan Zarathustra's down-going.\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 10:\n\n The distinction between ethos and pathos in Aristotle is, broadly,\n that between internal character and external circumstance.\u2014P. V. C.\n\n\n\n\n BOOK FIFTH\n\n WE FEARLESS ONES\n\n\n \"Carcasse, tu trembles? Tu\n tremblerais bien davantage, si\n tu savais, o\u00f9 je te m\u00e8ne.\"\u2014\n _Turenne._\n\n\n 343.\n\n_What our Cheerfulness Signifies._\u2014The most important of more recent\nevents\u2014that \"God is dead,\" that the belief in the Christian God has\nbecome unworthy of belief\u2014already begins to cast its first shadows over\nEurope. To the few at least whose eye, whose _suspecting_ glance, is\nstrong enough and subtle enough for this drama, some sun seems to have\nset, some old, profound confidence seems to have changed into doubt: our\nold world must seem to them daily more darksome, distrustful, strange\nand \"old.\" In the main, however, one may say that the event itself is\nfar too great, too remote, too much beyond most people's power of\napprehension, for one to suppose that so much as the report of it could\nhave _reached_ them; not to speak of many who already knew _what_ had\nreally taken place, and what must all collapse now that this belief had\nbeen undermined,\u2014because so much was built upon it, so much rested on\nit, and had become one with it: for example, our entire European\nmorality. This lengthy, vast and uninterrupted process of crumbling,\ndestruction, ruin and overthrow which is now imminent: who has realised\nit sufficiently to-day to have to stand up as the teacher and herald of\nsuch a tremendous logic of terror, as the prophet of a period of gloom\nand eclipse, the like of which has probably never taken place on earth\nbefore?... Even we, the born riddle-readers, who wait as it were on the\nmountains posted 'twixt to-day and to-morrow, and engirt by their\ncontradiction, we, the firstlings and premature children of the coming\ncentury, into whose sight especially the shadows which must forthwith\nenvelop Europe _should_ already have come\u2014how is it that even we,\nwithout genuine sympathy for this period of gloom, contemplate its\nadvent without any _personal_ solicitude or fear? Are we still, perhaps,\ntoo much under the _immediate effects_ of the event\u2014and are these\neffects, especially as regards _ourselves_, perhaps the reverse of what\nwas to be expected\u2014not at all sad and depressing, but rather like a new\nand indescribable variety of light, happiness, relief, enlivenment,\nencouragement, and dawning day?... In fact, we philosophers and \"free\nspirits\" feel ourselves irradiated as by a new dawn by the report that\nthe \"old God is dead\"; our hearts overflow with gratitude, astonishment,\npresentiment and expectation. At last the horizon seems open once more,\ngranting even that it is not bright; our ships can at last put out to\nsea in face of every danger; every hazard is again permitted to the\ndiscerner; the sea, _our_ sea, again lies open before us; perhaps never\nbefore did such an \"open sea\" exist.\u2014\n\n\n 344.\n\n_To what Extent even We are still Pious._\u2014It is said with good reason\nthat convictions have no civic rights in the domain of science: it is\nonly when a conviction voluntarily condescends to the modesty of an\nhypothesis, a preliminary standpoint for experiment, or a regulative\nfiction, that its access to the realm of knowledge, and a certain value\ntherein, can be conceded,\u2014always, however, with the restriction that it\nmust remain under police supervision, under the police of our\ndistrust.\u2014Regarded more accurately, however, does not this imply that\nonly when a conviction _ceases_ to be a conviction can it obtain\nadmission into science? Does not the discipline of the scientific spirit\njust commence when one no longer harbours any conviction?... It is\nprobably so: only, it remains to be asked whether, _in order that this\ndiscipline may commence_, it is not necessary that there should already\nbe a conviction, and in fact one so imperative and absolute, that it\nmakes a sacrifice of all other convictions. One sees that science also\nrests on a belief: there is no science at all \"without premises.\" The\nquestion whether _truth_ is necessary, must not merely be affirmed\nbeforehand, but must be affirmed to such an extent that the principle,\nbelief, or conviction finds expression, that \"there is _nothing more\nnecessary_ than truth, and in comparison with it everything else has\nonly a secondary value.\"\u2014This absolute will to truth: what is it? Is it\nthe will _not to allow ourselves to be deceived_? Is it the will _not to\ndeceive_? For the will to truth could also be interpreted in this\nfashion, provided one includes under the generalisation, \"I will not\ndeceive,\" the special case, \"I will not deceive myself.\" But why not\ndeceive? Why not allow oneself to be deceived?\u2014Let it be noted that the\nreasons for the former eventuality belong to a category quite different\nfrom those for the latter: one does not want to be deceived oneself,\nunder the supposition that it is injurious, dangerous, or fatal to be\ndeceived,\u2014in this sense science would be a prolonged process of caution,\nforesight and utility; against which, however, one might reasonably make\nobjections. What? is not-wishing-to-be-deceived really less injurious,\nless dangerous, less fatal? What do you know of the character of\nexistence in all its phases to be able to decide whether the greater\nadvantage is on the side of absolute distrust, or of absolute\ntrustfulness? In case, however, of both being necessary, much trusting\n_and_ much distrusting, whence then should science derive the absolute\nbelief, the conviction on which it rests, that truth is more important\nthan anything else, even than every other conviction? This conviction\ncould not have arisen if truth _and_ untruth had both continually proved\nthemselves to be useful: as is the case. Thus\u2014the belief in science,\nwhich now undeniably exists, cannot have had its origin in such a\nutilitarian calculation, but rather _in spite of_ the fact of the\ninutility and dangerousness of the \"Will to truth,\" of \"truth at all\ncosts,\" being continually demonstrated. \"At all costs\": alas, we\nunderstand that sufficiently well, after having sacrificed and\nslaughtered one belief after another at this altar!\u2014Consequently, \"Will\nto truth\" does _not_ imply, \"I will not allow myself to be deceived,\"\nbut\u2014there is no other alternative\u2014\"I will not deceive, not even myself\":\n_and thus we have reached the realm of morality_. For, let one just ask\noneself fairly: \"Why wilt thou not deceive?\" especially if it should\nseem\u2014and it does seem\u2014as if life were laid out with a view to\nappearance, I mean, with a view to error, deceit, dissimulation,\ndelusion, self-delusion; and when on the other hand it is a matter of\nfact that the great type of life has always manifested itself on the\nside of the most unscrupulous \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03cd\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9. Such an intention might\nperhaps, to express it mildly, be a piece of Quixotism, a little\nenthusiastic craziness; it might also, however, be something worse,\nnamely, a destructive principle, hostile to life.... \"Will to\nTruth,\"\u2014that might be a concealed Will to Death.\u2014Thus the question, Why\nis there science? leads back to the moral problem: _What in general is\nthe purpose of morality_, if life, nature, and history are \"non-moral\"?\nThere is no doubt that the conscientious man in the daring and extreme\nsense in which he is presupposed by the belief in science, _affirms\nthereby a world other than_ that of life, nature, and history; and in so\nfar as he affirms this \"other world,\" what? must he not just\nthereby\u2014deny its counterpart, this world, _our_ world?... But what I\nhave in view will now be understood, namely, that it is always a\n_metaphysical belief_ on which our belief in science rests,\u2014and that\neven we knowing ones of to-day, the godless and anti-metaphysical, still\ntake _our_ fire from the conflagration kindled by a belief a millennium\nold, the Christian belief, which was also the belief of Plato, that God\nis truth, that the truth is divine.... But what if this itself always\nbecomes more untrustworthy, what if nothing any longer proves itself\ndivine, except it be error, blindness, and falsehood;\u2014what if God\nhimself turns out to be our most persistent lie?\u2014\n\n\n 345.\n\n_Morality as a Problem._\u2014A defect in personality revenges itself\neverywhere: an enfeebled, lank, obliterated, self-disavowing and\ndisowning personality is no longer fit for anything good\u2014it is least of\nall fit for philosophy. \"Selflessness\" has no value either in heaven or\non earth; the great problems all demand _great love_, and it is only the\nstrong, well-rounded, secure spirits, those who have a solid basis, that\nare qualified for them. It makes the most material difference whether a\nthinker stands personally related to his problems, having his fate, his\nneed, and even his highest happiness therein; or merely impersonally,\nthat is to say, if he can only feel and grasp them with the tentacles of\ncold, prying thought. In the latter case I warrant that nothing comes of\nit: for the great problems, granting that they let themselves be grasped\nat all, do not let themselves be _held_ by toads and weaklings: that has\never been their taste\u2014a taste also which they share with all\nhigh-spirited women.\u2014How is it that I have not yet met with any one, not\neven in books, who seems to have stood to morality in this position, as\none who knew morality as a problem, and this problem as _his own_\npersonal need, affliction, pleasure and passion? It is obvious that up\nto the present morality has not been a problem at all; it has rather\nbeen the very ground on which people have met, after all distrust,\ndissension, and contradiction, the hallowed place of peace, where\nthinkers could obtain rest even from themselves, could recover breath\nand revive. I see no one who has ventured to _criticise_ the estimates\nof moral worth. I miss in this connection even the attempts of\nscientific curiosity, and the fastidious, groping imagination of\npsychologists and historians, which easily anticipates a problem and\ncatches it on the wing, without rightly knowing what it catches. With\ndifficulty I have discovered some scanty data for the purpose of\nfurnishing a _history of the origin_ of these feelings and estimates of\nvalue (which is something different from a criticism of them, and also\nsomething different from a history of ethical systems). In an individual\ncase, I have done everything to encourage the inclination and talent for\nthis kind of history\u2014in vain, as it would seem to me at present. There\nis little to be learned from those historians of morality (especially\nEnglishmen): they themselves are usually, quite unsuspiciously, under\nthe influence of a definite morality, and act unwittingly as its\narmour-bearers and followers\u2014perhaps still repeating sincerely the\npopular superstition of Christian Europe, that the characteristic of\nmoral action consists in abnegation, self-denial, self-sacrifice, or in\nfellow-feeling and fellow-suffering. The usual error in their premises\nis their insistence on a certain _consensus_ among human beings, at\nleast among civilised human beings, with regard to certain propositions\nof morality, and from thence they conclude that these propositions are\nabsolutely binding even upon you and me; or reversely, they come to the\nconclusion that _no_ morality at all is binding, after the truth has\ndawned upon them that to different peoples moral valuations are\n_necessarily_ different: both of which conclusions are equally childish\nfollies. The error of the more subtle amongst them is that they discover\nand criticise the probably foolish opinions of a people about its own\nmorality, or the opinions of mankind about human morality generally;\nthey treat accordingly of its origin, its religious sanctions, the\nsuperstition of free will, and such matters; and they think that just by\nso doing they have criticised the morality itself. But the worth of a\nprecept, \"Thou shalt,\" is still fundamentally different from and\nindependent of such opinions about it, and must be distinguished from\nthe weeds of error with which it has perhaps been overgrown: just as the\nworth of a medicine to a sick person is altogether independent of the\nquestion whether he has a scientific opinion about medicine, or merely\nthinks about it as an old wife would do. A morality could even have\ngrown _out of_ an error: but with this knowledge the problem of its\nworth would not even be touched.\u2014Thus, no one has hitherto tested the\n_value_ of that most celebrated of all medicines, called morality: for\nwhich purpose it is first of all necessary for one\u2014_to call it in\nquestion_. Well, that is just our work.\u2014\n\n\n 346.\n\n_Our Note of Interrogation._\u2014But you don't understand it? As a matter of\nfact, an effort will be necessary in order to understand us. We seek for\nwords; we seek perhaps also for ears. Who are we after all? If we wanted\nsimply to call ourselves in older phraseology, atheists, unbelievers, or\neven immoralists, we should still be far from thinking ourselves\ndesignated thereby: we are all three in too late a phase for people\ngenerally to conceive, for _you_, my inquisitive friends, to be able to\nconceive, what is our state of mind under the circumstances. No! we have\nno longer the bitterness and passion of him who has broken loose, who\nhas to make for himself a belief, a goal, and even a martyrdom out of\nhis unbelief! We have become saturated with the conviction (and have\ngrown cold and hard in it) that things are not at all divinely ordered\nin this world, nor even according to human standards do they go on\nrationally, mercifully, or justly: we know the fact that the world in\nwhich we live is ungodly, immoral, and \"inhuman,\"\u2014we have far too long\ninterpreted it to ourselves falsely and mendaciously, according to the\nwish and will of our veneration, that is to say, according to our\n_need_. For man is a venerating animal! But he is also a distrustful\nanimal: and that the world is _not_ worth what we have believed it to be\nworth is about the surest thing our distrust has at last managed to\ngrasp. So much distrust, so much philosophy! We take good care not to\nsay that the world is of _less_ value: it seems to us at present\nabsolutely ridiculous when man claims to devise values _to surpass_ the\nvalues of the actual world,\u2014it is precisely from that point that we have\nretraced our steps; as from an extravagant error of human conceit and\nirrationality, which for a long period has not been recognised as such.\nThis error had its last expression in modern Pessimism; an older and\nstronger manifestation in the teaching of Buddha; but Christianity also\ncontains it, more dubiously, to be sure, and more ambiguously, but none\nthe less seductive on that account. The whole attitude of \"man _versus_\nthe world,\" man as world-denying principle, man as the standard of the\nvalue of things, as judge of the world, who in the end puts existence\nitself on his scales and finds it too light\u2014the monstrous impertinence\nof this attitude has dawned upon us as such, and has disgusted us,\u2014we\nnow laugh when we find, \"Man _and_ World\" placed beside one another,\nseparated by the sublime presumption of the little word \"and\"! But how\nis it? Have we not in our very laughing just made a further step in\ndespising mankind? And consequently also in Pessimism, in despising the\nexistence cognisable _by us_? Have we not just thereby become liable to\na suspicion of an opposition between the world in which we have hitherto\nbeen at home with our venerations\u2014for the sake of which we perhaps\n_endure_ life\u2014and another world _which we ourselves are_: an inexorable,\nradical, most profound suspicion concerning ourselves, which is\ncontinually getting us Europeans more annoyingly into its power, and\ncould easily face the coming generation with the terrible alternative:\n\"Either do away with your venerations, or\u2014_with yourselves_!\" The latter\nwould be Nihilism\u2014but would not the former also be Nihilism? This is\n_our_ note of interrogation.\n\n\n 347.\n\n_Believers and their Need of Belief._\u2014How much _faith_ a person requires\nin order to flourish, how much \"fixed opinion\" he requires which he does\nnot wish to have shaken, because he _holds_ himself thereby\u2014is a measure\nof his power (or more plainly speaking, of his weakness). Most people in\nold Europe, as it seems to me, still need Christianity at present, and\non that account it still finds belief. For such is man: a theological\ndogma might be refuted to him a thousand times,\u2014provided, however, that\nhe had need of it, he would again and again accept it as\n\"true,\"\u2014according to the famous \"proof of power\" of which the Bible\nspeaks. Some have still need of metaphysics; but also the impatient\n_longing for certainty_ which at present discharges itself in\nscientific, positivist fashion among large numbers of the people, the\nlonging by all means to get at something stable (while on account of the\nwarmth of the longing the establishing of the certainty is more\nleisurely and negligently undertaken): even this is still the longing\nfor a hold, a support; in short, the _instinct of weakness_, which,\nwhile not actually creating religions, metaphysics, and convictions of\nall kinds, nevertheless\u2014preserves them. In fact, around all these\npositivist systems there fume the vapours of a certain pessimistic\ngloom, something of weariness, fatalism, disillusionment, and fear of\nnew disillusionment\u2014or else manifest animosity, ill-humour, anarchic\nexasperation, and whatever there is of symptom or masquerade of the\nfeeling of weakness. Even the readiness with which our cleverest\ncontemporaries get lost in wretched corners and alleys, for example, in\nVaterl\u00e4nderei (so I designate Jingoism, called _chauvinisme_ in France,\nand \"_deutsch_\" in Germany), or in petty \u00e6sthetic creeds in the manner\nof Parisian _naturalisme_ (which only brings into prominence and\nuncovers _that_ aspect of nature which excites simultaneously disgust\nand astonishment\u2014they like at present to call this aspect _la v\u00e9rit\u00e9\nvraie_), or in Nihilism in the St Petersburg style (that is to say, in\nthe _belief in unbelief_, even to martyrdom for it):\u2014this shows always\nand above all the need of belief, support, backbone, and buttress....\nBelief is always most desired, most pressingly needed where there is a\nlack of will: for the will, as emotion of command, is the distinguishing\ncharacteristic of sovereignty and power. That is to say, the less a\nperson knows how to command, the more urgent is his desire for one who\ncommands, who commands sternly,\u2014a God, a prince, a caste, a physician, a\nconfessor, a dogma, a party conscience. From whence perhaps it could be\ninferred that the two world-religions, Buddhism and Christianity, might\nwell have had the cause of their rise, and especially of their rapid\nextension, in an extraordinary _malady of the will_. And in truth it has\nbeen so: both religions lighted upon a longing, monstrously exaggerated\nby malady of the will, for an imperative, a \"Thou-shalt,\" a longing\ngoing the length of despair; both religions were teachers of fanaticism\nin times of slackness of will-power, and thereby offered to innumerable\npersons a support, a new possibility of exercising will, an enjoyment in\nwilling. For in fact fanaticism is the sole \"volitional strength\" to\nwhich the weak and irresolute can be excited, as a sort of hypnotising\nof the entire sensory-intellectual system, in favour of the\nover-abundant nutrition (hypertrophy) of a particular point of view and\na particular sentiment, which then dominates\u2014the Christian calls it his\n_faith_. When a man arrives at the fundamental conviction that he\n_requires_ to be commanded, he becomes \"a believer.\" Reversely, one\ncould imagine a delight and a power of self-determining, and a _freedom_\nof will whereby a spirit could bid farewell to every belief, to every\nwish for certainty, accustomed as it would be to support itself on\nslender cords and possibilities, and to dance even on the verge of\nabysses. Such a spirit would be the _free spirit par excellence_.\n\n\n 348.\n\n_The Origin of the Learned._\u2014The learned man in Europe grows out of all\nthe different ranks and social conditions, like a plant requiring no\nspecific soil: on that account he belongs essentially and involuntarily\nto the partisans of democratic thought. But this origin betrays itself.\nIf one has trained one's glance to some extent to recognise in a learned\nbook or scientific treatise the intellectual _idiosyncrasy_ of the\nlearned man\u2014all of them have such idiosyncrasy,\u2014and if we take it by\nsurprise, we shall almost always get a glimpse behind it of the\n\"antecedent history\" of the learned man and his family, especially of\nthe nature of their callings and occupations. Where the feeling finds\nexpression, \"That is at last proved, I am now done with it,\" it is\ncommonly the ancestor in the blood and instincts of the learned man that\napproves of the \"accomplished work\" in the nook from which he sees\nthings;\u2014the belief in the proof is only an indication of what has been\nlooked upon for ages by a laborious family as \"good work.\" Take an\nexample: the sons of registrars and office-clerks of every kind, whose\nmain task has always been to arrange a variety of material, distribute\nit in drawers, and systematise it generally, evince, when they become\nlearned men, an inclination to regard a problem as almost solved when\nthey have systematised it. There are philosophers who are at bottom\nnothing but systematising brains\u2014the formal part of the paternal\noccupation has become its essence to them. The talent for\nclassifications, for tables of categories, betrays something; it is not\nfor nothing that a person is the child of his parents. The son of an\nadvocate will also have to be an advocate as investigator: he seeks as a\nfirst consideration, to carry the point in his case, as a second\nconsideration, he perhaps seeks to be in the right. One recognises the\nsons of Protestant clergymen and schoolmasters by the na\u00efve assurance\nwith which as learned men they already assume their case to be proved,\nwhen it has but been presented by them staunchly and warmly: they are\nthoroughly accustomed to people _believing_ in them,\u2014it belonged to\ntheir fathers' \"trade\"! A Jew, contrariwise, in accordance with his\nbusiness surroundings and the past of his race, is least of all\naccustomed\u2014to people believing him. Observe Jewish scholars with regard\nto this matter,\u2014they all lay great stress on logic, that is to say, on\n_compelling_ assent by means of reasons; they know that they must\nconquer thereby, even when race and class antipathy is against them,\neven where people are unwilling to believe them. For in fact, nothing is\nmore democratic than logic: it knows no respect of persons, and takes\neven the crooked nose as straight. (In passing we may remark that in\nrespect to logical thinking, in respect to _cleaner_ intellectual\nhabits, Europe is not a little indebted to the Jews; above all the\nGermans, as being a lamentably _d\u00e9raisonnable_ race, who, even at the\npresent day, must always have their \"heads washed\"[11] in the first\nplace. Wherever the Jews have attained to influence, they have taught to\nanalyse more subtly, to argue more acutely, to write more clearly and\npurely: it has always been their problem to bring a people \"to\n_raison_.\")\n\n\n 349.\n\n_The Origin of the Learned once more._\u2014To seek self-preservation merely,\nis the expression of a state of distress, or of limitation of the true,\nfundamental instinct of life, which aims at the _extension of power_,\nand with this in view often enough calls in question self-preservation\nand sacrifices it. It should be taken as symptomatic when individual\nphilosophers, as for example, the consumptive Spinoza, have seen and\nhave been obliged to see the principal feature of life precisely in the\nso-called self-preservative instinct:\u2014they have just been men in states\nof distress. That our modern natural sciences have entangled themselves\nso much with Spinoza's dogma (finally and most grossly in Darwinism,\nwith its inconceivably one-sided doctrine of the \"struggle for\nexistence\"\u2014), is probably owing to the origin of most of the inquirers\ninto nature: they belong in this respect to the people, their\nforefathers have been poor and humble persons, who knew too well by\nimmediate experience the difficulty of making a living. Over the whole\nof English Darwinism there hovers something of the suffocating air of\nover-crowded England, something of the odour of humble people in need\nand in straits. But as an investigator of nature, a person ought to\nemerge from his paltry human nook: and in nature the state of distress\ndoes not _prevail_, but superfluity, even prodigality to the extent of\nfolly. The struggle for existence is only an _exception_, a temporary\nrestriction of the will to live; the struggle, be it great or small,\nturns everywhere on predominance, on increase and expansion, on power,\nin conformity to the will to power, which is just the will to live.\n\n\n 350.\n\n_In Honour of Homines Religiosi._\u2014The struggle against the church is\nmost certainly (among other things\u2014for it has a manifold significance)\nthe struggle of the more ordinary, cheerful, confiding, superficial\nnatures against the rule of the graver, profounder, more contemplative\nnatures, that is to say, the more malign and suspicious men, who with\nlong continued distrust in the worth of life, brood also over their own\nworth:\u2014the ordinary instinct of the people, its sensual gaiety, its\n\"good heart,\" revolts against them. The entire Roman Church rests on a\nSouthern suspicion of the nature of man (always misunderstood in the\nNorth), a suspicion whereby the European South has succeeded to the\ninheritance of the profound Orient\u2014the mysterious, venerable Asia\u2014and\nits contemplative spirit. Protestantism was a popular insurrection in\nfavour of the simple, the respectable, the superficial (the North has\nalways been more good-natured and more shallow than the South), but it\nwas the French Revolution that first gave the sceptre wholly and\nsolemnly into the hands of the \"good man\" (the sheep, the ass, the\ngoose, and everything incurably shallow, bawling, and fit for the Bedlam\nof \"modern ideas\").\n\n\n 351.\n\n_In Honour of Priestly Natures._\u2014I think that philosophers have always\nfelt themselves furthest removed from that which the people (in all\nclasses of society nowadays) take for wisdom: the prudent, bovine\nplacidity, piety, and country-parson meekness, which lies in the meadow\nand _gazes at_ life seriously and ruminatingly:\u2014this is probably because\nphilosophers have not had sufficiently the taste of the \"people,\" or of\nthe country-parson for that kind of wisdom. Philosophers will also\nperhaps be the latest to acknowledge that the people _should_ understand\nsomething of that which lies furthest from them, something of the great\n_passion_ of the thinker, who lives and must live continually in the\nstorm-cloud of the highest problems and the heaviest responsibilities\n(consequently, not gazing at all, to say nothing of doing so\nindifferently, securely, objectively). The people venerate an entirely\ndifferent type of man when on their part they form the ideal of a\n\"sage,\" and they are a thousand times justified in rendering homage with\nthe highest eulogies and honours to precisely that type of men\u2014namely,\nthe gentle, serious, simple, chaste, priestly natures and those related\nto them,\u2014it is to them that the praise falls due in the popular\nveneration of wisdom. And to whom should the people ever have more\nreason to be grateful than to these men who pertain to its class and\nrise from its ranks, but are persons consecrated, chosen, and\n_sacrificed_ for its good\u2014they themselves believe themselves sacrificed\nto God,\u2014before whom the people can pour forth its heart with impunity,\nby whom it can _get rid_ of its secrets, cares, and worse things (for\nthe man who \"communicates himself\" gets rid of himself, and he who has\n\"confessed\" forgets). Here there exists a great need: for sewers and\npure cleansing waters are required also for spiritual filth, and rapid\ncurrents of love are needed, and strong, lowly, pure hearts, who qualify\nand sacrifice themselves for such service of the non-public health\ndepartment\u2014for it _is_ a sacrificing, the priest is, and continues to\nbe, a human sacrifice.... The people regard such sacrificed, silent,\nserious men of \"faith\" as \"_wise_,\" that is to say, as men who have\nbecome sages, as \"reliable\" in relation to their own unreliability. Who\nwould desire to deprive the people of that expression and that\nveneration?\u2014But as is fair on the other side, among philosophers the\npriest also is still held to belong to the \"people,\" and is _not_\nregarded as a sage, because, above all, they themselves do not believe\nin \"sages,\" and they already scent \"the people\" in this very belief and\nsuperstition. It was _modesty_ which invented in Greece the word\n\"philosopher,\" and left to the play-actors of the spirit the superb\narrogance of assuming the name \"wise\"\u2014the modesty of such monsters of\npride and self-glorification as Pythagoras and Plato.\u2014\n\n\n 352.\n\n_Why we can hardly Dispense with Morality._\u2014The naked man is generally\nan ignominious spectacle\u2014I speak of us European males (and by no means\nof European females!). If the most joyous company at table suddenly\nfound themselves stripped and divested of their garments through the\ntrick of an enchanter, I believe that not only would the joyousness be\ngone and the strongest appetite lost;\u2014it seems that we Europeans cannot\nat all dispense with the masquerade that is called clothing. But should\nnot the disguise of \"moral men,\" the screening under moral formul\u00e6 and\nnotions of decency, the whole kindly concealment of our conduct under\nconceptions of duty, virtue, public sentiment, honourableness, and\ndisinterestedness, have just as good reasons in support of it? Not that\nI mean hereby that human wickedness and baseness, in short, the evil\nwild beast in us, should be disguised; on the contrary, my idea is that\nit is precisely as _tame animals_ that we are an ignominious spectacle\nand require moral disguising,\u2014that the \"inner man\" in Europe is far from\nhaving enough of intrinsic evil \"to let himself be seen\" with it (to be\n_beautiful_ with it). The European disguises himself _in morality_\nbecause he has become a sick, sickly, crippled animal, who has good\nreasons for being \"tame,\" because he is almost an abortion, an\nimperfect, weak and clumsy thing.... It is not the fierceness of the\nbeast of prey that finds moral disguise necessary, but the gregarious\nanimal, with its profound mediocrity, anxiety and ennui. _Morality\ndresses up the European_\u2014let us acknowledge it!\u2014in more distinguished,\nmore important, more conspicuous guise\u2014in \"divine\" guise\u2014\n\n\n 353.\n\n_The Origin of Religions._\u2014The real inventions of founders of religions\nare, on the one hand, to establish a definite mode of life and everyday\ncustom, which operates as _disciplina voluntatis_, and at the same time\ndoes away with ennui; and on the other hand, to give to that very mode\nof life an _interpretation_, by virtue of which it appears illumined\nwith the highest value; so that it henceforth becomes a good for which\npeople struggle, and under certain circumstances lay down their lives.\nIn truth, the second of these inventions is the more essential: the\nfirst, the mode of life, has usually been there already, side by side,\nhowever, with other modes of life, and still unconscious of the value\nwhich it embodies. The import, the originality of the founder of a\nreligion, discloses itself usually in the fact that he _sees_ the mode\nof life, _selects_ it, and _divines_ for the first time the purpose for\nwhich it can be used, how it can be interpreted. Jesus (or Paul), for\nexample, found around him the life of the common people in the Roman\nprovince, a modest, virtuous, oppressed life: he interpreted it, he put\nthe highest significance and value into it\u2014and thereby the courage to\ndespise every other mode of life, the calm fanaticism of the Moravians,\nthe secret, subterranean self-confidence which goes on increasing, and\nis at last ready \"to overcome the world\" (that is to say, Rome, and the\nupper classes throughout the empire). Buddha, in like manner, found the\nsame type of man,\u2014he found it in fact dispersed among all the classes\nand social ranks of a people who were good and kind (and above all\ninoffensive), owing to indolence, and who likewise owing to indolence,\nlived abstemiously, almost without requirements. He understood that such\na type of man, with all its _vis inertiae_, had inevitably to glide into\na belief which promises _to avoid_ the return of earthly ill (that is to\nsay, labour and activity generally),\u2014this \"understanding\" was his\ngenius. The founder of a religion possesses psychological infallibility\nin the knowledge of a definite, average type of souls, who have not yet\n_recognised_ themselves as akin. It is he who brings them together: the\nfounding of a religion, therefore, always becomes a long ceremony of\nrecognition.\u2014\n\n\n 354.\n\n_The \"Genius of the Species.\"_\u2014The problem of consciousness (or more\ncorrectly: of becoming conscious of oneself) meets us only when we begin\nto perceive in what measure we could dispense with it: and it is at the\nbeginning of this perception that we are now placed by physiology and\nzoology (which have thus required two centuries to overtake the hint\nthrown out in advance by Leibnitz). For we could in fact think, feel,\nwill, and recollect, we could likewise \"act\" in every sense of the term,\nand nevertheless nothing of it all would require to \"come into\nconsciousness\" (as one says metaphorically). The whole of life would be\npossible without its seeing itself as it were in a mirror: as in fact\neven at present the far greater part of our life still goes on without\nthis mirroring,\u2014and even our thinking, feeling, volitional life as well,\nhowever painful this statement may sound to an older philosopher. _What_\nthen is _the purpose_ of consciousness generally, when it is in the main\n_superfluous_?\u2014Now it seems to me, if you will hear my answer and its\nperhaps extravagant supposition, that the subtlety and strength of\nconsciousness are always in proportion to the _capacity for\ncommunication_ of a man (or an animal), the capacity for communication\nin its turn being in proportion to the _necessity for communication_:\nthe latter not to be understood as if precisely the individual himself\nwho is master in the art of communicating and making known his\nnecessities would at the same time have to be most dependent upon others\nfor his necessities. It seems to me, however, to be so in relation to\nwhole races and successions of generations: where necessity and need\nhave long compelled men to communicate with their fellows and understand\none another rapidly and subtly, a surplus of the power and art of\ncommunication is at last acquired, as if it were a fortune which had\ngradually accumulated, and now waited for an heir to squander it\nprodigally (the so-called artists are these heirs, in like manner the\norators, preachers, and authors: all of them men who come at the end of\na long succession, \"late-born\" always, in the best sense of the word,\nand as has been said, _squanderers_ by their very nature). Granted that\nthis observation is correct, I may proceed further to the conjecture\nthat _consciousness generally has only been developed under the pressure\nof the necessity for communication_,\u2014that from the first it has been\nnecessary and useful only between man and man (especially between those\ncommanding and those obeying), and has only developed in proportion to\nits utility. Consciousness is properly only a connecting network between\nman and man,\u2014it is only as such that it has had to develop; the recluse\nand wild-beast species of men would not have needed it. The very fact\nthat our actions, thoughts, feelings and motions come within the range\nof our consciousness\u2014at least a part of them\u2014is the result of a\nterrible, prolonged \"must\" ruling man's destiny: as the most endangered\nanimal he _needed_ help and protection; he needed his fellows, he was\nobliged to express his distress, he had to know how to make himself\nunderstood\u2014and for all this he needed \"consciousness\" first of all,\nconsequently, to \"know\" himself what he lacked, to \"know\" how he felt\nand to \"know\" what he thought. For, to repeat it once more, man, like\nevery living creature, thinks unceasingly, but does not know it; the\nthinking which is becoming _conscious of itself_ is only the smallest\npart thereof, we may say, the most superficial part, the worst part:\u2014for\nthis conscious thinking alone _is done in words, that is to say, in the\nsymbols for communication_, by means of which the origin of\nconsciousness is revealed. In short, the development of speech and the\ndevelopment of consciousness (not of reason, but of reason becoming\nself-conscious) go hand in hand. Let it be further accepted that it is\nnot only speech that serves as a bridge between man and man, but also\nthe looks, the pressure and the gestures; our becoming conscious of our\nsense impressions, our power of being able to fix them, and as it were\nto locate them outside of ourselves, has increased in proportion as the\nnecessity has increased for communicating them to _others_ by means of\nsigns. The sign-inventing man is at the same time the man who is always\nmore acutely self-conscious; it is only as a social animal that man has\nlearned to become conscious of himself,\u2014he is doing so still, and doing\nso more and more.\u2014As is obvious, my idea is that consciousness does not\nproperly belong to the individual existence of man, but rather to the\nsocial and gregarious nature in him; that, as follows therefrom, it is\nonly in relation to communal and gregarious utility that it is finely\ndeveloped; and that consequently each of us, in spite of the best\nintention of _understanding_ himself as individually as possible, and of\n\"knowing himself,\" will always just call into consciousness the\nnon-individual in him, namely, his \"averageness\";\u2014that our thought\nitself is continuously as it were _outvoted_ by the character of\nconsciousness\u2014by the imperious \"genius of the species\" therein\u2014and is\ntranslated back into the perspective of the herd. Fundamentally our\nactions are in an incomparable manner altogether personal, unique and\nabsolutely individual\u2014there is no doubt about it; but as soon as we\ntranslate them into consciousness, they _do not appear so any\nlonger_.... This is the proper phenomenalism and perspectivism as I\nunderstand it: the nature of _animal consciousness_ involves the notion\nthat the world of which we can become conscious is only a superficial\nand symbolic world, a generalised and vulgarised world;\u2014that everything\nwhich becomes conscious _becomes_ just thereby shallow, meagre,\nrelatively stupid,\u2014a generalisation, a symbol, a characteristic of the\nherd; that with the evolving of consciousness there is always combined a\ngreat, radical perversion, falsification, superficialisation, and\ngeneralisation. Finally, the growing consciousness is a danger, and\nwhoever lives among the most conscious Europeans knows even that it is a\ndisease. As may be conjectured, it is not the antithesis of subject and\nobject with which I am here concerned: I leave that distinction to the\nepistemologists who have remained entangled in the toils of grammar\n(popular metaphysics). It is still less the antithesis of \"thing in\nitself\" and phenomenon, for we do not \"know\" enough to be entitled even\n_to make such a distinction_. Indeed, we have not any organ at all for\n_knowing_ or for \"truth\"; we \"know\" (or believe, or fancy) just as much\nas may be _of use_ in the interest of the human herd, the species; and\neven what is here called \"usefulness\" is ultimately only a belief, a\nfancy, and perhaps precisely the most fatal stupidity by which we shall\none day be ruined.\n\n\n 355.\n\n_The Origin of our Conception of \"Knowledge.\"_\u2014I take this explanation\nfrom the street. I heard one of the people saying that \"he knew me,\"\nso I asked myself: What do the people really understand by knowledge?\nWhat do they want when they seek \"knowledge\"? Nothing more than that\nwhat is strange is to be traced back to something _known_. And we\nphilosophers\u2014have we really understood _anything more_ by knowledge?\nThe known, that is to say, what we are accustomed to, so that we no\nlonger marvel at it, the commonplace, any kind of rule to which we are\nhabituated, all and everything in which we know ourselves to be at\nhome:\u2014what? is our need of knowing not just this need of the known?\nthe will to discover in everything strange, unusual, or questionable,\nsomething which no longer disquiets us? Is it not possible that it\nshould be the _instinct of fear_ which enjoins upon us to know? Is it\nnot possible that the rejoicing of the discerner should be just his\nrejoicing in the regained feeling of security?... One philosopher\nimagined the world \"known\" when he had traced it back to the \"idea\":\nalas, was it not because the idea was so known, so familiar to him?\nbecause he had so much less fear of the \"idea\"\u2014Oh, this moderation of\nthe discerners! let us but look at their principles, and at their\nsolutions of the riddle of the world in this connection! When they\nagain find aught in things, among things, or behind things, that is\nunfortunately very well known to us, for example, our multiplication\ntable, or our logic, or our willing and desiring, how happy they\nimmediately are! For \"what is known is understood\": they are unanimous\nas to that. Even the most circumspect among them think that the known\nis at least _more easily understood_ than the strange; that for\nexample, it is methodically ordered to proceed outward from the \"inner\nworld,\" from \"the facts of consciousness,\" because it is the world\nwhich is _better known to us_! Error of errors! The known is the\naccustomed, and the accustomed is the most difficult of all to\n\"understand,\" that is to say, to perceive as a problem, to perceive as\nstrange, distant, \"outside of us.\"... The great certainty of the\nnatural sciences in comparison with psychology and the criticism of\nthe elements of consciousness\u2014_unnatural_ sciences as one might almost\nbe entitled to call them\u2014rests precisely on the fact that they take\n_what is strange_ as their object: while it is almost like something\ncontradictory and absurd _to wish_ to take generally what is not\nstrange as an object....\n\n\n 356.\n\n_In what Manner Europe will always become \"more Artistic.\"_\u2014Providing a\nliving still enforces even in the present day (in our transition period\nwhen so much ceases to enforce) a definite _r\u00f4le_ on almost all male\nEuropeans, their so-called callings; some have the liberty, an apparent\nliberty, to choose this r\u00f4le themselves, but most have it chosen for\nthem. The result is strange enough. Almost all Europeans confound\nthemselves with their r\u00f4le when they advance in age; they themselves are\nthe victims of their \"good acting,\" they have forgotten how much chance,\nwhim and arbitrariness swayed them when their \"calling\" was decided\u2014and\nhow many other r\u00f4les they _could_ perhaps have played: for it is now too\nlate! Looked at more closely, we see that their characters have actually\n_evolved_ out of their r\u00f4le, nature out of art. There were ages in which\npeople believed with unshaken confidence, yea, with piety, in their\npredestination for this very business, for that very mode of livelihood,\nand would not at all acknowledge chance, or the fortuitous r\u00f4le, or\narbitrariness therein. Ranks, guilds, and hereditary trade privileges\nsucceeded, with the help of this belief, in rearing those extraordinary\nbroad towers of society which distinguished the Middle Ages, and of\nwhich at all events one thing remains to their credit: capacity for\nduration (and duration is a value of the first rank on earth!). But\nthere are ages entirely the reverse, the properly democratic ages, in\nwhich people tend to become more and more oblivious of this conviction,\nand a sort of impudent conviction and quite contrary mode of viewing\nthings comes to the front, the Athenian conviction which is first\nobserved in the epoch of Pericles, the American conviction of the\npresent day, which wants also more and more to become an European\nconviction, whereby the individual is convinced that he can do almost\nanything, that he _can play almost any r\u00f4le_, whereby everyone makes\nexperiments with himself, improvises, tries anew, tries with delight,\nwhereby all nature ceases and becomes art.... The Greeks, having adopted\nthis _r\u00f4le-creed_\u2014an artist creed, if you will\u2014underwent step by step,\nas is well known, a curious transformation, not in every respect worthy\nof imitation: _they became actual stage-players_; and as such they\nenchanted, they conquered all the world, and at last even the conqueror\nof the world, (for the _Graeculus histrio_ conquered Rome, and _not_\nGreek culture, as the na\u00efve are accustomed to say....) What I fear,\nhowever, and what is at present obvious, if we desire to perceive it, is\nthat we modern men are quite on the same road already; and whenever man\nbegins to discover in what respect he plays a r\u00f4le, and to what extent\nhe _can_ be a stage-player, he _becomes_ a stage-player.... A new flora\nand fauna of men thereupon springs up, which cannot grow in more stable,\nmore restricted eras\u2014or is left \"at the bottom,\" under the ban and\nsuspicion of infamy\u2014, thereupon the most interesting and insane periods\nof history always make their appearance, in which \"stage-players,\" _all_\nkinds of stage-players, are the real masters. Precisely thereby another\nspecies of man is always more and more injured, and in the end made\nimpossible: above all the great \"architects\"; the building power is now\nbeing paralysed; the courage that makes plans for the distant future is\ndisheartened; there begins to be a lack of organising geniuses. Who is\nthere who would now venture to undertake works for the completion of\nwhich millenniums would have to be _reckoned_ upon? The fundamental\nbelief is dying out, on the basis of which one could calculate, promise\nand anticipate the future in one's plan, and offer it as a sacrifice\nthereto, that in fact man has only value and significance in so far as\nhe is _a stone in a great building_; for which purpose he has first of\nall to be _solid_, he has to be a \"stone.\"... Above all, not\na\u2014stage-player! In short\u2014alas! this fact will be hushed up for some\nconsiderable time to come!\u2014that which from henceforth will no longer be\nbuilt, and _can_ no longer be built, is\u2014a society in the old sense of\nthe term; to build this structure everything is lacking, above all, the\nmaterial. _None of us are any longer material for a society_: that is a\ntruth which is seasonable at present! It seems to me a matter of\nindifference that meanwhile the most short-sighted, perhaps the most\nhonest, and at any rate the noisiest species of men of the present day,\nour friends the Socialists, believe, hope, dream, and above all scream\nand scribble almost the opposite; in fact one already reads their\nwatchword of the future: \"free society,\" on all tables and walls. Free\nsociety? Indeed! Indeed! But you know, gentlemen, sure enough whereof\none builds it? Out of wooden iron! Out of the famous wooden iron! And\nnot even out of wooden....\n\n\n 357.\n\n_The old Problem: \"What is German?\"_\u2014Let us count up apart the real\nacquisitions of philosophical thought for which we have to thank German\nintellects: are they in any allowable sense to be counted also to the\ncredit of the whole race? Can we say that they are at the same time the\nwork of the \"German soul,\" or at least a symptom of it, in the sense in\nwhich we are accustomed to think, for example, of Plato's ideomania, his\nalmost religious madness for form, as an event and an evidence of the\n\"Greek soul\"? Or would the reverse perhaps be true? Were they so\nindividual, so much an exception to the spirit of the race, as was, for\nexample, Goethe's Paganism with a good conscience? Or as Bismarck's\nMacchiavelism was with a good conscience, his so-called \"practical\npolitics\" in Germany? Did our philosophers perhaps even go counter to\nthe _need_ of the \"German soul\"? In short, were the German philosophers\nreally philosophical _Germans_?\u2014I call to mind three cases. Firstly,\n_Leibnitz's_ incomparable insight\u2014with which he obtained the advantage\nnot only over Descartes, but over all who had philosophised up to his\ntime,\u2014that consciousness is only an accident of mental representation,\nand _not_ its necessary and essential attribute; that consequently what\nwe call consciousness only constitutes a state of our spiritual and\npsychical world (perhaps a morbid state), and is _far from being that\nworld itself_:\u2014is there anything German in this thought, the profundity\nof which has not as yet been exhausted? Is there reason to think that a\nperson of the Latin race would not readily have stumbled on this\nreversal of the apparent?\u2014for it is a reversal. Let us call to mind\nsecondly, the immense note of interrogation which _Kant_ wrote after the\nnotion of causality. Not that he at all doubted its legitimacy, like\nHume: on the contrary, he began cautiously to define the domain within\nwhich this notion has significance generally (we have not even yet got\nfinished with the marking out of these limits). Let us take thirdly, the\nastonishing hit of _Hegel_, who stuck at no logical usage or\nfastidiousness when he ventured to teach that the conceptions of kinds\ndevelop _out of one another_: with which theory the thinkers in Europe\nwere prepared for the last great scientific movement, for Darwinism\u2014for\nwithout Hegel there would have been no Darwin. Is there anything German\nin this Hegelian innovation which first introduced the decisive\nconception of evolution into science? Yes, without doubt we feel that\nthere is something of ourselves \"discovered\" and divined in all three\ncases; we are thankful for it, and at the same time surprised; each of\nthese three principles is a thoughtful piece of German self-confession,\nself-understanding, and self-knowledge. We feel with Leibnitz that \"our\ninner world is far richer, ampler, and more concealed\"; as Germans we\nare doubtful, like Kant, about the ultimate validity of scientific\nknowledge of nature, and in general about whatever _can_ be known\n_causaliter_: the _knowable_ as such now appears to us of _less_ worth.\nWe Germans should still have been Hegelians, even though there had never\nbeen a Hegel, inasmuch as we (in contradistinction to all Latin peoples)\ninstinctively attribute to becoming, to evolution, a profounder\nsignificance and higher value than to that which \"is\"\u2014we hardly believe\nat all in the validity of the concept \"being.\" This is all the more the\ncase because we are not inclined to concede to our human logic that it\nis logic in itself, that it is the only kind of logic (we should rather\nlike, on the contrary, to convince ourselves that it is only a special\ncase, and perhaps one of the strangest and most stupid). A fourth\nquestion would be whether also _Schopenhauer_ with his Pessimism, that\nis to say the problem of _the worth of existence_, had to be a German. I\nthink not. The event _after_ which this problem was to be expected with\ncertainty, so that an astronomer of the soul could have calculated the\nday and the hour for it\u2014namely, the decay of the belief in the Christian\nGod, the victory of scientific atheism,\u2014is a universal European event,\nin which all races are to have their share of service and honour. On the\ncontrary, it has to be ascribed precisely to the Germans\u2014those with whom\nSchopenhauer was contemporary,\u2014that they delayed this victory of atheism\nlongest, and endangered it most. Hegel especially was its retarder _par\nexcellence_, in virtue of the grandiose attempt which he made to\npersuade us of the divinity of existence, with the help at the very last\nof our sixth sense, \"the historical sense.\" As philosopher, Schopenhauer\nwas the _first_ avowed and inflexible atheist we Germans have had: his\nhostility to Hegel had here its background. The non-divinity of\nexistence was regarded by him as something understood, palpable,\nindisputable; he always lost his philosophical composure and got into a\npassion when he saw anyone hesitate and beat about the bush here. It is\nat this point that his thorough uprightness of character comes in:\nunconditional, honest atheism is precisely the _preliminary condition_\nfor his raising the problem, as a final and hardwon victory of the\nEuropean conscience, as the most prolific act of two thousand years'\ndiscipline to truth, which in the end no longer tolerates the _lie_ of\nthe belief in a God.... One sees what has really gained the victory over\nthe Christian God\u2014, Christian morality itself, the conception of\nveracity, taken ever more strictly, the confessional subtlety of the\nChristian conscience, translated and sublimated to the scientific\nconscience, to intellectual purity at any price. To look upon nature as\nif it were a proof of the goodness and care of a God; to interpret\nhistory in honour of a divine reason, as a constant testimony to a moral\norder in the world and a moral final purpose; to explain personal\nexperiences as pious men have long enough explained them, as if\neverything were a dispensation or intimation of Providence, something\nplanned and sent on behalf of the salvation of the soul: all that is now\n_past_, it has conscience _against_ it, it is regarded by all the more\nacute consciences as disreputable and dishonourable, as mendaciousness,\nfemininism, weakness, and cowardice,\u2014by virtue of this severity, if by\nanything, we are _good_ Europeans, the heirs of Europe's longest and\nbravest self-conquest. When we thus reject the Christian interpretation,\nand condemn its \"significance\" as a forgery, we are immediately\nconfronted in a striking manner with the _Schopenhauerian_ question:\n_Has existence then a significance at all?_\u2014the question which will\nrequire a couple of centuries even to be completely heard in all its\nprofundity. Schopenhauer's own answer to this question was\u2014if I may be\nforgiven for saying so\u2014a premature, juvenile reply, a mere compromise, a\nstoppage and sticking in the very same Christian-ascetic, moral\nperspectives, _the belief in which had got notice to quit_ along with\nthe belief in God.... But he _raised_ the question\u2014as a good European,\nas we have said, and _not_ as a German.\u2014Or did the Germans prove at\nleast by the way in which they seized on the Schopenhauerian question,\ntheir inner connection and relationship to him, their preparation for\nhis problem, and their _need_ of it? That there has been thinking and\nprinting even in Germany since Schopenhauer's time on the problem raised\nby him,\u2014it was late enough!\u2014does not at all suffice to enable us to\ndecide in favour of this closer relationship; one could, on the\ncontrary, lay great stress on the peculiar _awkwardness_ of this\npost-Schopenhauerian Pessimism\u2014Germans evidently do not behave\nthemselves there as in their element. I do not at all allude here to\nEduard von Hartmann; on the contrary, my old suspicion is not vanished\neven at present that he is _too clever_ for us; I mean to say that as\narrant rogue from the very first, he did not perhaps make merry solely\nover German Pessimism\u2014and that in the end he might probably \"bequeathe\"\nto them the truth as to how far a person could bamboozle the Germans\nthemselves in the age of bubble companies. But further, are we perhaps\nto reckon to the honour of Germans, the old humming-top, Bahnsen, who\nall his life spun about with the greatest pleasure around his\nrealistically dialectic misery and \"personal ill-luck,\"\u2014was _that_\nGerman? (In passing I recommend his writings for the purpose for which I\nmyself have used them, as anti-pessimistic fare, especially on account\nof his _elegantia psychologica_, which, it seems to me, could alleviate\neven the most constipated body and soul). Or would it be proper to count\nsuch dilettanti and old maids as the mawkish apostle of virginity,\nMainl\u00e4nder, among the genuine Germans? After all he was probably a Jew\n(all Jews become mawkish when they moralise). Neither Bahnsen, nor\nMainl\u00e4nder, nor even Eduard von Hartmann, give us a reliable grasp of\nthe question whether the pessimism of Schopenhauer (his frightened\nglance into an undeified world, which has become stupid, blind, deranged\nand problematic, his _honourable_ fright) was not only an exceptional\ncase among Germans, but a _German_ event: while everything else which\nstands in the foreground, like our valiant politics and our joyful\nJingoism (which decidedly enough regards everything with reference to a\nprinciple sufficiently unphilosophical: \"_Deutschland, Deutschland, \u00fcber\nAlles_,\"[12] consequently _sub specie speciei_, namely, the German\n_species_), testifies very plainly to the contrary. No! The Germans of\nto-day are _not_ pessimists! And Schopenhauer was a pessimist, I repeat\nit once more, as a good European, and _not_ as a German.\n\n\n 358.\n\n_The Peasant Revolt of the Spirit._\u2014We Europeans find ourselves in view\nof an immense world of ruins, where some things still tower aloft, while\nother objects stand mouldering and dismal, where most things however\nalready lie on the ground, picturesque enough\u2014where were there ever\nfiner ruins?\u2014overgrown with weeds, large and small. It is the Church\nwhich is this city of decay: we see the religious organisation of\nChristianity shaken to its deepest foundations. The belief in God is\noverthrown, the belief in the Christian ascetic ideal is now fighting\nits last fight. Such a long and solidly built work as Christianity\u2014it\nwas the last construction of the Romans!\u2014could not of course be\ndemolished all at once; every sort of earthquake had to shake it, every\nsort of spirit which perforates, digs, gnaws and moulders had to assist\nin the work of destruction. But that which is strangest is that those\nwho have exerted themselves most to retain and preserve Christianity,\nhave been precisely those who did most to destroy it,\u2014the Germans. It\nseems that the Germans do not understand the essence of a Church. Are\nthey not spiritual enough, or not distrustful enough to do so? In any\ncase the structure of the Church rests on a _southern_ freedom and\nliberality of spirit, and similarly on a southern suspicion of nature,\nman, and spirit,\u2014it rests on a knowledge of man, an experience of man,\nentirely different from what the north has had. The Lutheran Reformation\nin all its length and breadth was the indignation of the simple against\nsomething \"complicated.\" To speak cautiously, it was a coarse, honest\nmisunderstanding, in which much is to be forgiven,\u2014people did not\nunderstand the mode of expression of a _victorious_ Church, and only saw\ncorruption; they misunderstood the noble scepticism, the _luxury_ of\nscepticism and toleration which every victorious, self-confident power\npermits.... One overlooks the fact readily enough at present that as\nregards all cardinal questions concerning power Luther was badly\nendowed; he was fatally short-sighted, superficial and imprudent\u2014and\nabove all, as a man sprung from the people, he lacked all the hereditary\nqualities of a ruling caste, and all the instincts for power; so that\nhis work, his intention to restore the work of the Romans, merely became\ninvoluntarily and unconsciously the commencement of a work of\ndestruction. He unravelled, he tore asunder with honest rage, where the\nold spider had woven longest and most carefully. He gave the sacred\nbooks into the hands of everyone,\u2014they thereby got at last into the\nhands of the philologists, that is to say, the annihilators of every\nbelief based upon books. He demolished the conception of \"the Church\" in\nthat he repudiated the belief in the inspiration of the Councils: for\nonly under the supposition that the inspiring spirit which had founded\nthe Church still lives in it, still builds it, still goes on building\nits house, does the conception of \"the Church\" retain its power. He gave\nback to the priest sexual intercourse: but three-fourths of the\nreverence of which the people (and above all the women of the people)\nare capable, rests on the belief that an exceptional man in this respect\nwill also be an exceptional man in other respects. It is precisely here\nthat the popular belief in something superhuman in man, in a miracle, in\nthe saving God in man, has its most subtle and insidious advocate. After\nLuther had given a wife to the priest, he had _to take from him_\nauricular confession; that was psychologically right: but thereby he\npractically did away with the Christian priest himself, whose\nprofoundest utility has ever consisted in his being a sacred ear, a\nsilent well, and a grave for secrets. \"Every man his own priest\"\u2014behind\nsuch formul\u00e6 and their bucolic slyness, there was concealed in Luther\nthe profoundest hatred of \"higher men\" and the rule of \"higher men,\" as\nthe Church had conceived them. Luther disowned an ideal which he did not\nknow how to attain, while he seemed to combat and detest the\ndegeneration thereof. As a matter of fact, he, the impossible monk,\nrepudiated the _rule_ of the _homines religiosi_; he consequently\nbrought about precisely the same thing within the ecclesiastical social\norder that he combated so impatiently in the civic order,\u2014namely a\n\"peasant insurrection.\"\u2014As to all that grew out of his Reformation\nafterwards, good and bad, which can at present be almost counted up,\u2014who\nwould be na\u00efve enough to praise or blame Luther simply on account of\nthese results? He is innocent of all; he knew not what he did. The art\nof making the European spirit shallower, especially in the north, or\nmore _good-natured_, if people would rather hear it designated by a\nmoral expression, undoubtedly took a clever step in advance in the\nLutheran Reformation; and similarly there grew out of it the mobility\nand disquietude of the spirit, its thirst for independence, its belief\nin the right to freedom, and its \"naturalness.\" If people wish to\nascribe to the Reformation in the last instance the merit of having\nprepared and favoured that which we at present honour as \"modern\nscience,\" they must of course add that it is also accessory to bringing\nabout the degeneration of the modern scholar with his lack of reverence,\nof shame and of profundity; and that it is also responsible for all\nna\u00efve candour and plain-dealing in matters of knowledge, in short for\nthe _plebeianism of the spirit_ which is peculiar to the last two\ncenturies, and from which even pessimism hitherto, has not in any way\ndelivered us. \"Modern ideas\" also belong to this peasant insurrection of\nthe north against the colder, more ambiguous, more suspicious spirit of\nthe south, which has built itself its greatest monument in the Christian\nChurch. Let us not forget in the end what a Church is, and especially,\nin contrast to every \"State\": a Church is above all an authoritative\norganisation which secures to the _most spiritual_ men the highest rank,\nand _believes_ in the power of spirituality so far as to forbid all\ngrosser appliances of authority. Through this alone the Church is under\nall circumstances a _nobler_ institution than the State.\u2014\n\n\n 359.\n\n_Vengeance on Intellect and other Backgrounds of\nMorality._\u2014Morality\u2014where do you think it has its most dangerous and\nrancorous advocates?\u2014There, for example, is an ill-constituted man, who\ndoes not possess enough of intellect to be able to take pleasure in it,\nand just enough of culture to be aware of the fact; bored, satiated, and\na self-despiser; besides being cheated unfortunately by some hereditary\nproperty out of the last consolation, the \"blessing of labour,\" the\nself-forgetfulness in the \"day's work\"; one who is thoroughly ashamed of\nhis existence\u2014perhaps also harbouring some vices,\u2014and who on the other\nhand (by means of books to which he has no right, or more intellectual\nsociety than he can digest), cannot help vitiating himself more and\nmore, and making himself vain and irritable: such a thoroughly poisoned\nman\u2014for intellect becomes poison, culture becomes poison, possession\nbecomes poison, solitude becomes poison, to such ill-constituted\nbeings\u2014gets at last into a habitual state of vengeance and inclination\nto vengeance.... What do you think he finds necessary, absolutely\nnecessary in order to give himself the appearance in his own eyes of\nsuperiority over more intellectual men, so as to give himself the\ndelight of _perfect revenge_, at least in imagination? It is always\n_morality_ that he requires, one may wager on it; always the big moral\nwords, always the high-sounding words: justice, wisdom, holiness,\nvirtue; always the stoicism of gestures (how well stoicism hides what\none does _not_ possess!); always the mantle of wise silence, of\naffability, of gentleness, and whatever else the idealist-mantle is\ncalled in which the incurable self-despisers and also the incurably\nconceited walk about. Let me not be misunderstood: out of such born\n_enemies of the spirit_ there arises now and then that rare specimen of\nhumanity who is honoured by the people under the name of saint or sage:\nit is out of such men that there arise those prodigies of morality that\nmake a noise, that make history,\u2014St Augustine was one of these men. Fear\nof the intellect, vengeance on the intellect\u2014Oh! how often have these\npowerfully impelling vices become the root of virtues! Yea, virtue\n_itself_!\u2014And asking the question among ourselves, even the\nphilosopher's pretension to wisdom, which has occasionally been made\nhere and there on the earth, the maddest and most immodest of all\npretensions,\u2014has it not always been, in India as well as in Greece,\n_above all a means of concealment_? Sometimes, perhaps, from the point\nof view of education which hallows so many lies, it has been a tender\nregard for growing and evolving persons, for disciples who have often to\nbe guarded against themselves by means of the belief in a person (by\nmeans of an error). In most cases, however, it is a means of concealment\nfor a philosopher, behind which he seeks protection, owing to\nexhaustion, age, chilliness, or hardening; as a feeling of the\napproaching end, as the sagacity of the instinct which animals have\nbefore their death,\u2014they go apart, remain at rest, choose solitude,\ncreep into caves, become _wise_.... What? Wisdom a means of concealment\nof the philosopher from\u2014intellect?\u2014\n\n\n 360.\n\n_Two Kinds of Causes which are Confounded._\u2014It seems to me one of my\nmost essential steps and advances that I have learned to distinguish the\ncause of the action generally from the cause of action in a particular\nmanner, say, in this direction, with this aim. The first kind of cause\nis a quantum of stored-up force, which waits to be used in some manner,\nfor some purpose; the second kind of cause, on the contrary, is\nsomething quite unimportant in comparison with the first, an\ninsignificant hazard for the most part, in conformity with which the\nquantum of force in question \"discharges\" itself in some unique and\ndefinite manner: the lucifer-match in relation to the barrel of\ngunpowder. Among those insignificant hazards and lucifer-matches I count\nall the so-called \"aims,\" and similarly the still more so-called\n\"occupations\" of people: they are relatively optional, arbitrary, and\nalmost indifferent in relation to the immense quantum of force which\npresses on, as we have said, to be used up in any way whatever. One\ngenerally looks at the matter in a different manner: one is accustomed\nto see the _impelling_ force precisely in the aim (object, calling,\n&c.), according to a primeval error,\u2014but it is only the _directing_\nforce; the steersman and the steam have thereby been confounded. And yet\nit is not even always the steersman, the directing force.... Is the\n\"aim,\" the \"purpose,\" not often enough only an extenuating pretext, an\nadditional self-blinding of conceit, which does not wish it to be said\nthat the ship _follows_ the stream into which it has accidentally run?\nThat it \"wishes\" to go that way, _because_ it _must_ go that way? That\nit has a direction, sure enough, but\u2014not a steersman? We still require a\ncriticism of the conception of \"purpose.\"\n\n\n 361.\n\n_The Problem of the Actor._\u2014The problem of the actor has disquieted me\nthe longest; I was uncertain (and am sometimes so still) whether one\ncould not get at the dangerous conception of \"artist\"\u2014a conception\nhitherto treated with unpardonable leniency\u2014from this point of view.\nFalsity with a good conscience; delight in dissimulation breaking forth\nas power, pushing aside, overflowing, and sometimes extinguishing the\nso-called \"character\"; the inner longing to play a r\u00f4le, to assume a\nmask, to put on an _appearance_; a surplus of capacity for adaptations\nof every kind, which can no longer gratify themselves in the service of\nthe nearest and narrowest utility: all that perhaps does not pertain\n_solely_ to the actor in himself?... Such an instinct would develop most\nreadily in families of the lower class of the people, who have had to\npass their lives in absolute dependence, under shifting pressure and\nconstraint, who (to accommodate themselves to their conditions, to adapt\nthemselves always to new circumstances) had again and again to pass\nthemselves off and represent themselves as different persons,\u2014thus\nhaving gradually qualified themselves to adjust the mantle to _every_\nwind, thereby almost becoming the mantle itself, as masters of the\nembodied and incarnated art of eternally playing the game of hide and\nseek, which one calls _mimicry_ among the animals:\u2014until at last this\nability, stored up from generation to generation, has become\ndomineering, irrational and intractable, till as instinct it begins to\ncommand the other instincts, and begets the actor, the \"artist\" (the\nbuffoon, the pantaloon, the Jack-Pudding, the fool, and the clown in the\nfirst place, also the classical type of servant, Gil Blas: for in such\ntypes one has the precursors of the artist, and often enough even of the\n\"genius\"). Also under higher social conditions there grows under similar\npressure a similar species of men. Only the histrionic instinct is there\nfor the most part held strictly in check by another instinct, for\nexample, among \"diplomatists\";\u2014for the rest, I should think that it\nwould always be open to a good diplomatist to become a good actor on the\nstage, provided his dignity \"allowed\" it. As regards the _Jews_,\nhowever, the adaptable people _par excellence_, we should, in conformity\nto this line of thought, expect to see among them a world-historical\ninstitution from the very beginning, for the rearing of actors, a\ngenuine breeding-place for actors; and in fact the question is very\npertinent just now: what good actor at present is _not_\u2014a Jew? The Jew\nalso, as a born literary man, as the actual ruler of the European press,\nexercises this power on the basis of his histrionic capacity: for the\nliterary man is essentially an actor,\u2014he plays the part of \"expert,\" of\n\"specialist.\"\u2014Finally _women_. If we consider the whole history of\nwomen, are they not _obliged_ first of all, and above all to be\nactresses? If we listen to doctors who have hypnotised women, or,\nfinally, if we love them\u2014and let ourselves be \"hypnotised\" by them,\u2014what\nis always divulged thereby? That they \"give themselves airs,\" even when\nthey\u2014\"give themselves.\"... Woman is so artistic....\n\n\n 362.\n\n_My Belief in the Virilising of Europe._\u2014We owe it to Napoleon (and not\nat all to the French Revolution, which had in view the \"fraternity\" of\nthe nations, and the florid interchange of good graces among people\ngenerally) that several warlike centuries, which have not had their like\nin past history, may now follow one another\u2014in short, that we have\nentered upon _the classical age of war_, war at the same time scientific\nand popular, on the grandest scale (as regards means, talents and\ndiscipline), to which all coming millenniums will look back with envy\nand awe as a work of perfection:\u2014for the national movement out of which\nthis martial glory springs, is only the counter-_choc_ against Napoleon,\nand would not have existed without him. To him, consequently, one will\none day be able to attribute the fact that _man_ in Europe has again got\nthe upper hand of the merchant and the Philistine; perhaps even of\n\"woman\" also, who has become pampered owing to Christianity and the\nextravagant spirit of the eighteenth century, and still more owing to\n\"modern ideas.\" Napoleon, who saw in modern ideas, and accordingly in\ncivilisation, something like a personal enemy, has by this hostility\nproved himself one of the greatest continuators of the Renaissance: he\nhas brought to the surface a whole block of the ancient character, the\ndecisive block perhaps, the block of granite. And who knows but that\nthis block of ancient character will in the end get the upper hand of\nthe national movement, and will have to make itself in a _positive_\nsense the heir and continuator of Napoleon:\u2014who, as one knows, wanted\n_one_ Europe, which was to be _mistress of the world_.\u2014\n\n\n 363.\n\n_How each Sex has its Prejudice about Love._\u2014Notwithstanding all the\nconcessions which I am inclined to make to the monogamic prejudice, I\nwill never admit that we should speak of _equal_ rights in the love of\nman and woman: there are no such equal rights. The reason is that man\nand woman understand something different by the term love,\u2014and it\nbelongs to the conditions of love in both sexes that the one sex does\n_not_ presuppose the same feeling, the same conception of \"love,\" in the\nother sex. What woman understands by love is clear enough: complete\nsurrender (not merely devotion) of soul and body, without any motive,\nwithout any reservation, rather with shame and terror at the thought of\na devotion restricted by clauses or associated with conditions. In this\nabsence of conditions her love is precisely a _faith_: woman has no\nother.\u2014Man, when he loves a woman, _wants_ precisely this love from her;\nhe is consequently, as regards himself, furthest removed from the\nprerequisites of feminine love; granted, however, that there should also\nbe men to whom on their side the demand for complete devotion is not\nunfamiliar,\u2014well, they are really\u2014not men. A man who loves like a woman\nbecomes thereby a slave; a woman, however, who loves like a woman\nbecomes thereby a _more perfect_ woman.... The passion of woman in its\nunconditional renunciation of its own rights presupposes in fact that\nthere does _not_ exist on the other side an equal _pathos_, an equal\ndesire for renunciation: for if both renounced themselves out of love,\nthere would result\u2014well, I don't know what, perhaps a _horror vacui_?\nWoman wants to be taken and accepted as a possession, she wishes to be\nmerged in the conceptions of \"possession\" and \"possessed\"; consequently\nshe wants one who _takes_, who does not offer and give himself away, but\nwho reversely is rather to be made richer in \"himself\"\u2014by the increase\nof power, happiness and faith which the woman herself gives to him.\nWoman gives herself, man takes her.\u2014I do not think one will get over\nthis natural contrast by any social contract, or with the very best will\nto do justice, however desirable it may be to avoid bringing the severe,\nfrightful, enigmatical, and unmoral elements of this antagonism\nconstantly before our eyes. For love, regarded as complete, great, and\nfull, is nature, and as nature, is to all eternity something\n\"unmoral.\"\u2014_Fidelity_ is accordingly included in woman's love, it\nfollows from the definition thereof; with man fidelity _may_ readily\nresult in consequence of his love, perhaps as gratitude or idiosyncrasy\nof taste, and so-called elective affinity, but it does not belong to the\n_essence_ of his love\u2014and indeed so little, that one might almost be\nentitled to speak of a natural opposition between love and fidelity in\nman, whose love is just a desire to possess, and _not_ a renunciation\nand giving away; the desire to possess, however, comes to an end every\ntime with the possession.... As a matter of fact it is the more subtle\nand jealous thirst for possession in the man (who is rarely and tardily\nconvinced of having this \"possession\"), which makes his love continue;\nin that case it is even possible that the love may increase after the\nsurrender,\u2014he does not readily own that a woman has nothing more to\n\"surrender\" to him.\u2014\n\n\n 364.\n\n_The Anchorite Speaks._\u2014The art of associating with men rests\nessentially on one's skilfulness (which presupposes long exercise) in\naccepting a repast, in taking a repast in the cuisine of which one has\nno confidence. Provided one comes to the table with the hunger of a wolf\neverything is easy (\"the worst society gives thee _experience_\"\u2014as\nMephistopheles says); but one has not got this wolf's-hunger when one\nneeds it! Alas! how difficult are our fellow-men to digest! First\nprinciple: to stake one's courage as in a misfortune, to seize boldly,\nto admire oneself at the same time, to take one's repugnance between\none's teeth, to cram down one's disgust. Second principle: to \"improve\"\none's fellow-man, by praise for example, so that he may begin to sweat\nout his self-complacency; or to seize a tuft of his good or\n\"interesting\" qualities, and pull at it till one gets his whole virtue\nout, and can put him under the folds of it. Third principle:\nself-hypnotism. To fix one's eye on the object of one's intercourse, as\non a glass knob, until, ceasing to feel pleasure or pain thereat, one\nfalls asleep unobserved, becomes rigid, and acquires a fixed pose: a\nhousehold recipe used in married life and in friendship, well tested and\nprized as indispensable, but not yet scientifically formulated. Its\nproper name is\u2014patience.\u2014\n\n\n 365.\n\n_The Anchorite Speaks once more._\u2014We also have intercourse with \"men,\"\nwe also modestly put on the clothes in which people know us (_as such_),\nrespect us and seek us; and we thereby mingle in society, that is to\nsay, among the disguised who do not wish to be so called; we also do\nlike all prudent masqueraders, and courteously dismiss all curiosity\nwhich has not reference merely to our \"clothes.\" There are however other\nmodes and artifices for \"going about\" among men and associating with\nthem: for example, as a ghost,\u2014which is very advisable when one wants to\nscare them, and get rid of them easily. An example: a person grasps at\nus, and is unable to seize us. That frightens him. Or we enter by a\nclosed door. Or when the lights are extinguished. Or after we are dead.\nThe latter is the artifice of _posthumous_ men _par excellence_.\n(\"What?\" said such a one once impatiently, \"do you think we should\ndelight in enduring this strangeness, coldness, death-stillness about\nus, all this subterranean, hidden, dim, undiscovered solitude, which is\ncalled life with us, and might just as well be called death, if we were\nnot conscious of what _will arise_ out of us,\u2014and that only after our\ndeath shall we attain to _our_ life and become living, ah! very living!\nwe posthumous men!\"\u2014)\n\n\n 366.\n\n_At the Sight of a Learned Book._\u2014We do not belong to those who only get\ntheir thoughts from books, or at the prompting of books,\u2014it is our\ncustom to think in the open air, walking, leaping, climbing, or dancing\non lonesome mountains by preference, or close to the sea, where even the\npaths become thoughtful. Our first question concerning the value of a\nbook, a man, or a piece of music is: Can it walk? or still better: Can\nit dance?... We seldom read; we do not read the worse for that\u2014oh, how\nquickly do we divine how a person has arrived at his thoughts:\u2014whether\nsitting before an ink-bottle with compressed belly and head bent over\nthe paper: oh, how quickly we are then done with his book! The\nconstipated bowels betray themselves, one may wager on it, just as the\natmosphere of the room, the ceiling of the room, the smallness of the\nroom, betray themselves.\u2014These were my feelings as I was closing a\nstraightforward, learned book, thankful, very thankful, but also\nrelieved.... In the book of a learned man there is almost always\nsomething oppressive and oppressed: the \"specialist\" comes to light\nsomewhere, his ardour, his seriousness, his wrath, his over-estimation\nof the nook in which he sits and spins, his hump\u2014every specialist has\nhis hump. A learned book also always mirrors a distorted soul: every\ntrade distorts. Look at our friends again with whom we have spent our\nyouth, after they have taken possession of their science: alas! how the\nreverse has always taken place! Alas! how they themselves are now for\never occupied and possessed by their science! Grown into their nook,\ncrumpled into unrecognisability, constrained, deprived of their\nequilibrium, emaciated and angular everywhere, perfectly round only in\none place,\u2014we are moved and silent when we find them so. Every\nhandicraft, granting even that it has a golden floor,[13] has also a\nleaden ceiling above it, which presses and presses on the soul, till it\nis pressed into a strange and distorted shape. There is nothing to alter\nhere. We need not think that it is at all possible to obviate this\ndisfigurement by any educational artifice whatever. Every kind of\n_perfection_ is purchased at a high price on earth, where everything is\nperhaps purchased too dear; one is an expert in one's department at the\nprice of being also a victim of one's department. But you want to have\nit otherwise\u2014\"more reasonable,\" above all more convenient\u2014is it not so,\nmy dear contemporaries? Very well! But then you will also immediately\nget something different: that is to say, instead of the craftsman and\nexpert, the literary man, the versatile, \"many-sided\" litt\u00e9rateur, who\nto be sure lacks the hump\u2014not taking account of the hump or bow which he\nmakes before you as the shopman of the intellect and the \"porter\" of\nculture\u2014, the litt\u00e9rateur, who _is_ really nothing, but \"represents\"\nalmost everything: he plays and \"represents\" the expert, he also takes\nit upon himself in all modesty _to see that he is_ paid, honoured and\ncelebrated in this position.\u2014No, my learned friends! I bless you even on\naccount of your humps! And also because like me you despise the\nlitt\u00e9rateurs and parasites of culture! And because you do not know how\nto make merchandise of your intellect! And have so many opinions which\ncannot be expressed in money value! And because you do not represent\nanything which you _are_ not! Because your sole desire is to become\nmasters of your craft; because you reverence every kind of mastership\nand ability, and repudiate with the most relentless scorn everything of\na make-believe, half-genuine, dressed-up, virtuoso, demagogic,\nhistrionic nature in _litteris et artibus_\u2014all that which does not\nconvince you by its absolute _genuineness_ of discipline and preparatory\ntraining, or cannot stand your test! (Even genius does not help a person\nto get over such a defect, however well it may be able to deceive with\nregard to it: one understands this if one has once looked closely at our\nmost gifted painters and musicians,\u2014who almost without exception, can\nartificially and supplementarily appropriate to themselves (by means of\nartful inventions of style, make-shifts, and even principles), the\n_appearance_ of that genuineness, that solidity of training and culture;\nto be sure, without thereby deceiving themselves, without thereby\nimposing perpetual silence on their bad consciences. For you know well\nenough that all great modern artists suffer from bad consciences?...)\n\n\n 367.\n\n_How one has to Distinguish first of all in Works of Art._\u2014Everything\nthat is thought, versified, painted and composed, yea, even built and\nmoulded, belongs either to monologic art, or to art before witnesses.\nUnder the latter there is also to be included the apparently monologic\nart which involves the belief in God, the whole lyric of prayer; because\nfor a pious man there is no solitude,\u2014we, the godless, have been the\nfirst to devise this invention. I know of no profounder distinction in\nall the perspective of the artist than this: Whether he looks at his\ngrowing work of art (at \"himself\u2014\") with the eye of the witness; or\nwhether he \"has forgotten the world,\" as is the essential thing in all\nmonologic art,\u2014\u2014it rests _on forgetting_, it is the music of forgetting.\n\n\n 368.\n\n_The Cynic Speaks._\u2014My objections to Wagner's music are physiological\nobjections. Why should I therefore begin by disguising them under\n\u00e6sthetic formul\u00e6? My \"point\" is that I can no longer breathe freely when\nthis music begins to operate on me; my _foot_ immediately becomes\nindignant at it and rebels: for what it needs is time, dance and march;\nit demands first of all from music the ecstasies which are in _good_\nwalking, striding, leaping and dancing. But do not my stomach, my heart,\nmy blood and my bowels also protest? Do I not become hoarse unawares\nunder its influence? And then I ask myself what it is really that my\nbody _wants_ from music generally. I believe it wants to have _relief_:\nso that all animal functions should be accelerated by means of light,\nbold, unfettered, self-assured rhythms; so that brazen, leaden life\nshould be gilded by means of golden, good, tender harmonies. My\nmelancholy would fain rest its head in the hiding-places and abysses of\n_perfection_: for this reason I need music. What do I care for the\ndrama! What do I care for the spasms of its moral ecstasies, in which\nthe \"people\" have their satisfaction! What do I care for the whole\npantomimic hocus-pocus of the actor!... It will now be divined that I am\nessentially anti-theatrical at heart,\u2014but Wagner on the contrary, was\nessentially a man of the stage and an actor, the most enthusiastic\nmummer-worshipper that has ever existed, even among musicians!... And\nlet it be said in passing that if Wagner's theory was that \"drama is the\nobject, and music is only the means to it,\"\u2014his _practice_ on the\ncontrary from beginning to end has been to the effect that \"attitude is\nthe object, drama and even music can never be anything else but means to\n_that_.\" Music as a means of elucidating, strengthening and intensifying\ndramatic poses and the actor's appeal to the senses, and Wagnerian drama\nonly an opportunity for a number of dramatic attitudes! Wagner\npossessed, along with all other instincts, the dictatorial instinct of a\ngreat actor in all and everything, and as has been said, also as a\nmusician.\u2014I once made this clear with some trouble to a thorough-going\nWagnerian, and I had reasons for adding:\u2014\"Do be a little more honest\nwith yourself: we are not now in the theatre. In the theatre we are only\nhonest in the mass; as individuals we lie, we belie even ourselves. We\nleave ourselves at home when we go to the theatre; we there renounce the\nright to our own tongue and choice, to our taste, and even to our\ncourage as we possess it and practise it within our own four walls in\nrelation to God and man. No one takes his finest taste in art into the\ntheatre with him, not even the artist who works for the theatre: there\none is people, public, herd, woman, Pharisee, voting animal, democrat,\nneighbour, and fellow-creature; there even the most personal conscience\nsuccumbs to the levelling charm of the 'great multitude'; there\nstupidity operates as wantonness and contagion; there the neighbour\nrules, there one _becomes_ a neighbour....\" (I have forgotten to mention\nwhat my enlightened Wagnerian answered to my physiological objections:\n\"So the fact is that you are really not healthy enough for our music?\"\u2014)\n\n\n 369.\n\n_Juxtapositions in us._\u2014Must we not acknowledge to ourselves, we\nartists, that there is a strange discrepancy in us; that on the one hand\nour taste, and on the other hand our creative power, keep apart in an\nextraordinary manner, continue apart, and have a separate growth;\u2014I mean\nto say that they have entirely different gradations and _tempi_ of age,\nyouth, maturity, mellowness and rottenness? So that, for example, a\nmusician could all his life create things which _contradict_ all that\nhis ear and heart, spoilt as they are for listening, prize, relish and\nprefer:\u2014he would not even require to be aware of the contradiction! As\nan almost painfully regular experience shows, a person's taste can\neasily outgrow the taste of his power, even without the latter being\nthereby paralysed or checked in its productivity. The reverse, however,\ncan also to some extent take place,\u2014and it is to this especially that I\nshould like to direct the attention of artists. A constant producer, a\nman who is a \"mother\" in the grand sense of the term, one who no longer\nknows or hears of anything except pregnancies and child-beds of his\nspirit, who has no time at all to reflect and make comparisons with\nregard to himself and his work, who is also no longer inclined to\nexercise his taste, but simply forgets it, letting it take its chance of\nstanding, lying or falling,\u2014perhaps such a man at last produces works\n_on which he is then not at all fit to pass a judgment_: so that he\nspeaks and thinks foolishly about them and about himself. This seems to\nme almost the normal condition with fruitful artists,\u2014nobody knows a\nchild worse than its parents\u2014and the rule applies even (to take an\nimmense example) to the entire Greek world of poetry and art, which was\nnever \"conscious\" of what it had done....\n\n\n 370.\n\n_What is Romanticism?_\u2014It will be remembered perhaps, at least among my\nfriends, that at first I assailed the modern world with some gross\nerrors and exaggerations, but at any rate with _hope_ in my heart. I\nrecognised\u2014who knows from what personal experiences?\u2014the philosophical\npessimism of the nineteenth century as the symptom of a higher power of\nthought, a more daring courage and a more triumphant _plenitude_ of life\nthan had been characteristic of the eighteenth century, the age of Hume,\nKant, Condillac, and the sensualists: so that the tragic view of things\nseemed to me the peculiar _luxury_ of our culture, its most precious,\nnoble, and dangerous mode of prodigality; but nevertheless, in view of\nits overflowing wealth, a _justifiable_ luxury. In the same way I\ninterpreted for myself German music as the expression of a Dionysian\npower in the German soul: I thought I heard in it the earthquake by\nmeans of which a primeval force that had been imprisoned for ages was\nfinally finding vent\u2014indifferent as to whether all that usually calls\nitself culture was thereby made to totter. It is obvious that I then\nmisunderstood what constitutes the veritable character both of\nphilosophical pessimism and of German music,\u2014namely, their\n_Romanticism_. What is Romanticism? Every art and every philosophy may\nbe regarded as a healing and helping appliance in the service of\ngrowing, struggling life: they always presuppose suffering and\nsufferers. But there are two kinds of sufferers: on the one hand those\nthat suffer from _overflowing vitality_, who need Dionysian art, and\nrequire a tragic view and insight into life; and on the other hand those\nwho suffer from _reduced vitality_, who seek repose, quietness, calm\nseas, and deliverance from themselves through art or knowledge, or else\nintoxication, spasm, bewilderment and madness. All Romanticism in art\nand knowledge responds to the twofold craving of the _latter_; to them\nSchopenhauer as well as Wagner responded (and responds),\u2014to name those\nmost celebrated and decided romanticists who were then _misunderstood_\nby me (_not_ however to their disadvantage, as may be reasonably\nconceded to me). The being richest in overflowing vitality, the\nDionysian God and man, may not only allow himself the spectacle of the\nhorrible and questionable, but even the fearful deed itself, and all the\nluxury of destruction, disorganisation and negation. With him evil,\nsenselessness and ugliness seem as it were licensed, in consequence of\nthe overflowing plenitude of procreative, fructifying power, which can\nconvert every desert into a luxuriant orchard. Conversely, the greatest\nsufferer, the man poorest in vitality, would have most need of mildness,\npeace and kindliness in thought and action: he would need, if possible,\na God who is specially the God of the sick, a \"Saviour\"; similarly he\nwould have need of logic, the abstract intelligibility of existence\u2014for\nlogic soothes and gives confidence;\u2014in short he would need a certain\nwarm, fear-dispelling narrowness and imprisonment within optimistic\nhorizons. In this manner I gradually began to understand Epicurus, the\nopposite of a Dionysian pessimist;\u2014in a similar manner also the\n\"Christian,\" who in fact is only a type of Epicurean, and like him\nessentially a romanticist:\u2014and my vision has always become keener in\ntracing that most difficult and insidious of all forms of _retrospective\ninference_, which most mistakes have been made\u2014the inference from the\nwork to its author, from the deed to its doer, from the ideal to him who\n_needs_ it, from every mode of thinking and valuing to the imperative\n_want_ behind it.\u2014In regard to all \u00e6sthetic values I now avail myself of\nthis radical distinction: I ask in every single case, \"Has hunger or\nsuperfluity become creative here?\" At the outset another distinction\nmight seem to recommend itself more\u2014it is far more conspicuous,\u2014namely,\nto have in view whether the desire for rigidity, for perpetuation, for\n_being_ is the cause of the creating, or the desire for destruction, for\nchange, for the new, for the future\u2014for _becoming_. But when looked at\nmore carefully, both these kinds of desire prove themselves ambiguous,\nand are explicable precisely according to the before-mentioned and, as\nit seems to me, rightly preferred scheme. The desire for _destruction_,\nchange and becoming, may be the expression of overflowing power,\npregnant with futurity (my _terminus_ for this is of course the word\n\"Dionysian\"); but it may also be the hatred of the ill-constituted,\ndestitute and unfortunate, which destroys, and _must_ destroy, because\nthe enduring, yea, all that endures, in fact all being, excites and\nprovokes it. To understand this emotion we have but to look closely at\nour anarchists. The will to _perpetuation_ requires equally a double\ninterpretation. It may on the one hand proceed from gratitude and\nlove:\u2014art of this origin will always be an art of apotheosis, perhaps\ndithyrambic, as with Rubens, mocking divinely, as with Hafiz, or clear\nand kind-hearted as with Goethe, and spreading a Homeric brightness and\nglory over everything (in this case I speak of _Apollonian_ art). It may\nalso, however, be the tyrannical will of a sorely-suffering, struggling\nor tortured being, who would like to stamp his most personal, individual\nand narrow characteristics, the very idiosyncrasy of his suffering, as\nan obligatory law and constraint on others; who, as it were, takes\nrevenge on all things, in that he imprints, enforces and brands _his_\nimage, the image of _his_ torture, upon them. The latter is _romantic\npessimism_ in its most extreme form, whether it be as Schopenhauerian\nwill-philosophy, or as Wagnerian music:\u2014romantic pessimism, the last\n_great_ event in the destiny of our civilisation. (That there _may be_\nquite a different kind of pessimism, a classical pessimism\u2014this\npresentiment and vision belongs to me, as something inseparable from me,\nas my _proprium_ and _ipsissimum_; only that the word \"classical\" is\nrepugnant to my ears, it has become far too worn; too indefinite and\nindistinguishable. I call that pessimism of the future,\u2014for it is\ncoming! I see it coming!\u2014_Dionysian_ pessimism.)\n\n\n 371.\n\n_We Unintelligible Ones._\u2014Have we ever complained among ourselves of\nbeing misunderstood, misjudged, and confounded with others; of being\ncalumniated, misheard, and not heard? That is just our lot\u2014alas, for a\nlong time yet! say, to be modest, until 1901\u2014, it is also our\ndistinction; we should not have sufficient respect for ourselves if we\nwished it otherwise. People confound us with others\u2014the reason of it is\nthat we ourselves grow, we change continually, we cast off old bark, we\nstill slough every spring, we always become younger, higher, stronger,\nas men of the future, we thrust our roots always more powerfully into\nthe deep\u2014into evil\u2014, while at the same time we embrace the heavens ever\nmore lovingly, more extensively, and suck in their light ever more\neagerly with all our branches and leaves. We grow like trees\u2014that is\ndifficult to understand, like all life!\u2014not in one place, but\neverywhere, not in one direction only, but upwards and outwards, as well\nas inwards and downwards. At the same time our force shoots forth in\nstem, branches, and roots; we are really no longer free to do anything\nseparately, or to _be_ anything separately.... Such is our lot, as we\nhave said: we grow in _height_; and even should it be our calamity\u2014for\nwe dwell ever closer to the lightning!\u2014well, we honour it none the less\non that account; it is that which we do not wish to share with others,\nwhich we do not wish to bestow upon others, the fate of all elevation,\n_our_ fate....\n\n\n 372.\n\n_Why we are not Idealists._\u2014Formerly philosophers were afraid of the\nsenses: have we, perhaps, been far too forgetful of this fear? We are at\npresent all of us sensualists, we representatives of the present and of\nthe future in philosophy,\u2014_not_ according to theory, however, but in\n_praxis_, in practice.... Those former philosophers, on the contrary,\nthought that the senses lured them out of _their_ world, the cold realm\nof \"ideas,\" to a dangerous southern island, where they were afraid that\ntheir philosopher-virtues would melt away like snow in the sun. \"Wax in\nthe ears,\" was then almost a condition of philosophising; a genuine\nphilosopher no longer listened to life, in so far as life is music, he\n_denied_ the music of life\u2014it is an old philosophical superstition that\nall music is Sirens' music.\u2014Now we should be inclined at the present day\nto judge precisely in the opposite manner (which in itself might be just\nas false), and to regard _ideas_, with their cold, an\u00e6mic appearance,\nand not even in spite of this appearance, as worse seducers than the\nsenses. They have always lived on the \"blood\" of the philosopher, they\nalways consumed his senses, and indeed, if you will believe me, his\n\"heart\" as well. Those old philosophers were heartless: philosophising\nwas always a species of vampirism. At the sight of such figures even as\nSpinoza, do you not feel a profoundly enigmatical and disquieting sort\nof impression? Do you not see the drama which is here performed, the\nconstantly _increasing pallor_\u2014, the spiritualisation always more\nideally displayed? Do you not imagine some long-concealed blood-sucker\nin the background, which makes its beginning with the senses, and in the\nend retains or leaves behind nothing but bones and their rattling?\u2014I\nmean categories, formul\u00e6, and _words_ (for you will pardon me in saying\nthat what _remains_ of Spinoza, _amor intellectualis dei_, is rattling\nand nothing more! What is _amor_, what is _deus_, when they have lost\nevery drop of blood?...) _In summa_: all philosophical idealism has\nhitherto been something like a disease, where it has not been, as in the\ncase of Plato, the prudence of superabundant and dangerous\nhealthfulness, the fear of _overpowerful_ senses, and the wisdom of a\nwise Socratic.\u2014Perhaps, is it the case that we moderns are merely not\nsufficiently sound _to require_ Plato's idealism? And we do not fear the\nsenses because\u2014\u2014.\n\n\n 373.\n\n_\"Science\" as Prejudice._\u2014It follows from the laws of class distinction\nthat the learned, in so far as they belong to the intellectual\nmiddle-class, are debarred from getting even a sight of the really\n_great_ problems and notes of interrogation. Besides, their courage, and\nsimilarly their outlook, does not reach so far,\u2014and above all, their\nneed, which makes them investigators, their innate anticipation and\ndesire that things should be constituted _in such and such a way_, their\nfears and hopes are too soon quieted and set at rest. For example, that\nwhich makes the pedantic Englishman, Herbert Spencer, so enthusiastic in\nhis way, and impels him to draw a line of hope, a horizon of\ndesirability, the final reconciliation of \"egoism and altruism\" of which\nhe dreams,\u2014that almost causes nausea to people like us:\u2014a humanity with\nsuch Spencerian perspectives as ultimate perspectives would seem to us\ndeserving of contempt, of extermination! But the _fact_ that something\nhas to be taken by him as his highest hope, which is regarded, and may\nwell be regarded, by others merely as a distasteful possibility, is a\nnote of interrogation which Spencer could not have foreseen.... It is\njust the same with the belief with which at present so many\nmaterialistic natural-scientists are content, the belief in a world\nwhich is supposed to have its equivalent and measure in human thinking\nand human valuations, a \"world of truth\" at which we might be able\nultimately to arrive with the help of our insignificant, four-cornered\nhuman reason! What? do we actually wish to have existence debased in\nthat fashion to a ready-reckoner exercise and calculation for\nstay-at-home mathematicians? We should not, above all, seek to divest\nexistence of its _ambiguous_ character: _good_ taste forbids it,\ngentlemen, the taste of reverence for everything that goes beyond your\nhorizon! That a world-interpretation is alone right by which _you_\nmaintain your position, by which investigation and work can go on\nscientifically in _your_ sense (you really mean _mechanically_?), an\ninterpretation which acknowledges numbering, calculating, weighing,\nseeing and handling, and nothing more\u2014such an idea is a piece of\ngrossness and na\u00efvety, provided it is not lunacy and idiocy. Would the\nreverse not be quite probable, that the most superficial and external\ncharacters of existence\u2014its most apparent quality, its outside, its\nembodiment\u2014should let themselves be apprehended first? perhaps alone\nallow themselves to be apprehended? A \"scientific\" interpretation of the\nworld as you understand it might consequently still be one of the\n_stupidest_ that is to say, the most destitute of significance, of all\npossible world-interpretations:\u2014I say this in confidence to my friends\nthe Mechanicians, who to-day like to hobnob with philosophers, and\nabsolutely believe that mechanics is the teaching of the first and last\nlaws upon which, as upon a ground-floor, all existence must be built.\nBut an essentially mechanical world would be an essentially\n_meaningless_ world! Supposing we valued the _worth_ of a music with\nreference to how much it could be counted, calculated, or formulated\u2014how\nabsurd such a \"scientific\" estimate of music would be! What would one\nhave apprehended, understood, or discerned in it! Nothing, absolutely\nnothing of what is really \"music\" in it!...\n\n\n 374.\n\n_Our new \"Infinite.\"_\u2014How far the perspective character of existence\nextends, or whether it have any other character at all, whether an\nexistence without explanation, without \"sense\" does not just become\n\"nonsense,\" whether, on the other hand, all existence is not essentially\nan _explaining_ existence\u2014these questions, as is right and proper,\ncannot be determined even by the most diligent and severely\nconscientious analysis and self-examination of the intellect, because in\nthis analysis the human intellect cannot avoid seeing itself in its\nperspective forms, and _only_ in them. We cannot see round our corner:\nit is hopeless curiosity to want to know what other modes of intellect\nand perspective there _might_ be: for example, whether any kind of being\ncould perceive time backwards, or alternately forwards and backwards (by\nwhich another direction of life and another conception of cause and\neffect would be given). But I think that we are to-day at least far from\nthe ludicrous immodesty of decreeing from our nook that there _can_ only\nbe legitimate perspectives from that nook. The world, on the contrary,\nhas once more become \"infinite\" to us: in so far we cannot dismiss the\npossibility that it _contains infinite interpretations_. Once more the\ngreat horror seizes us\u2014but who would desire forthwith to deify once more\n_this_ monster of an unknown world in the old fashion? And perhaps\nworship _the_ unknown thing as _the_ \"unknown person\" in future? Ah!\nthere are too many _ungodly_ possibilities of interpretation comprised\nin this unknown, too much devilment, stupidity and folly of\ninterpretation.\u2014also our own human, all too human interpretation itself,\nwhich we know....\n\n\n 375.\n\n_Why we Seem to be Epicureans._\u2014We are cautious, we modern men, with\nregard to final convictions, our distrust lies in wait for the\nenchantments and tricks of conscience involved in every strong belief,\nin every absolute Yea and Nay: how is this explained? Perhaps one may\nsee in it a good deal of the caution of the \"burnt child,\" of the\ndisillusioned idealist; but one may also see in it another and better\nelement, the joyful curiosity of a former lingerer in the corner, who\nhas been brought to despair by his nook, and now luxuriates and revels\nin its antithesis, in the unbounded, in the \"open air in itself.\" Thus\nthere is developed an almost Epicurean inclination for knowledge, which\ndoes not readily lose sight of the questionable character of things;\nlikewise also a repugnance to pompous moral phrases and attitudes, a\ntaste that repudiates all coarse, square contrasts, and is proudly\nconscious of its habitual reserve. For _this too_ constitutes our pride,\nthis easy tightening of the reins in our headlong impulse after\ncertainty, this self-control of the rider in his most furious riding:\nfor now, as of old we have mad, fiery steeds under us, and if we delay,\nit is certainly least of all the danger which causes us to delay....\n\n\n 376.\n\n_Our Slow Periods._\u2014It is thus that artists feel, and all men of\n\"works,\" the maternal species of men: they always believe at every\nchapter of their life\u2014a work always makes a chapter\u2014that they have\nalready reached the goal itself; they would always patiently accept\ndeath with the feeling: \"we are ripe for it.\" This is not the expression\nof exhaustion,\u2014but rather that of a certain autumnal sunniness and\nmildness, which the work itself, the maturing of the work, always leaves\nbehind in its originator. Then the _tempo_ of life slows down\u2014turns\nthick and flows with honey\u2014into long pauses, into the belief in _the_\nlong pause....\n\n\n 377.\n\n_We Homeless Ones._\u2014Among the Europeans of to-day there are not lacking\nthose who may call themselves homeless ones in a way which is at once a\ndistinction and an honour; it is by them that my secret wisdom and _gaya\nscienza_ is expressly to be laid to heart. For their lot is hard, their\nhope uncertain; it is a clever feat to devise consolation for them. But\nwhat good does it do! We children of the future, how _could_ we be at\nhome in the present? We are unfavourable to all ideals which could make\nus feel at home in this frail, broken-down, transition period; and as\nregards the \"realities\" thereof, we do not believe in their _endurance_.\nThe ice which still carries us has become very thin: the thawing wind\nblows; we ourselves, the homeless ones, are an influence that breaks the\nice, and the other all too thin \"realities.\"... We \"preserve\" nothing,\nnor would we return to any past age; we are not at all \"liberal,\" we do\nnot labour for \"progress,\" we do not need first to stop our ears to the\nsong of the market-place and the sirens of the future\u2014their song of\n\"equal rights,\" \"free society,\" \"no longer either lords or slaves,\" does\nnot allure us! We do not by any means think it desirable that the\nkingdom of righteousness and peace should be established on earth\n(because under any circumstances it would be the kingdom of the\nprofoundest mediocrity and Chinaism); we rejoice in all men, who, like\nourselves, love danger, war and adventure, who do not make compromises,\nnor let themselves be captured, conciliated and stunted; we count\nourselves among the conquerors; we ponder over the need of a new order\nof things, even of a new slavery\u2014for every strengthening and elevation\nof the type \"man\" also involves a new form of slavery. Is it not obvious\nthat with all this we must feel ill at ease in an age which claims the\nhonour of being the most humane, gentle and just that the sun has ever\nseen? What a pity that at the mere mention of these fine words, the\nthoughts at the back of our minds are all the more unpleasant, that we\nsee therein only the expression\u2014or the masquerade\u2014of profound weakening,\nexhaustion, age, and declining power! What can it matter to us with what\nkind of tinsel an invalid decks out his weakness? He may parade it as\nhis _virtue_; there is no doubt whatever that weakness makes people\ngentle, alas, so gentle, so just, so inoffensive, so \"humane\"!\u2014The\n\"religion of pity,\" to which people would like to persuade us\u2014yes, we\nknow sufficiently well the hysterical little men and women who need this\nreligion at present as a cloak and adornment! We are no humanitarians;\nwe should not dare to speak of our \"love of mankind\"; for that, a person\nof our stamp is not enough of an actor! Or not sufficiently\nSaint-Simonist, not sufficiently French. A person must have been\naffected with a _Gallic_ excess of erotic susceptibility and amorous\nimpatience even to approach mankind honourably with his lewdness....\nMankind! Was there ever a more hideous old woman among all old women\n(unless perhaps it were \"the Truth\": a question for philosophers)? No,\nwe do not love Mankind! On the other hand, however, we are not nearly\n\"German\" enough (in the sense in which the word \"German\" is current at\npresent) to advocate nationalism and race-hatred, or take delight in the\nnational heart-itch and blood-poisoning, on account of which the nations\nof Europe are at present bounded off and secluded from one another as if\nby quarantines. We are too unprejudiced for that, too perverse, too\nfastidious; also too well-informed, and too much \"travelled.\" We prefer\nmuch rather to live on mountains, apart and \"out of season,\" in past or\ncoming centuries, in order merely to spare ourselves the silent rage to\nwhich we know we should be condemned as witnesses of a system of\npolitics which makes the German nation barren by making it vain, and\nwhich is a _petty_ system besides:\u2014will it not be necessary for this\nsystem to plant itself between two mortal hatreds, lest its own creation\nshould immediately collapse? Will it not _be obliged_ to desire the\nperpetuation of the petty-state system of Europe?... We homeless ones\nare too diverse and mixed in race and descent as \"modern men,\" and are\nconsequently little tempted to participate in the falsified racial\nself-admiration and lewdness which at present display themselves in\nGermany, as signs of German sentiment, and which strike one as doubly\nfalse and unbecoming in the people with the \"historical sense.\" We are,\nin a word\u2014and it shall be our word of honour!\u2014_good Europeans_, the\nheirs of Europe, the rich, over-wealthy heirs, also the too deeply\npledged heirs of millenniums of European thought. As such, we have also\noutgrown Christianity, and are disinclined to it\u2014and just because we\nhave grown _out of_ it, because our forefathers were Christians\nuncompromising in their Christian integrity, who willingly sacrificed\npossessions and positions, blood and country, for the sake of their\nbelief. We\u2014do the same. For what, then? For our unbelief? For all sorts\nof unbelief? Nay, you know better than that, my friends! The hidden\n_Yea_ in you is stronger than all the Nays and Perhapses, of which you\nand your age are sick; and when you are obliged to put out to sea, you\nemigrants, it is\u2014once more a _faith_ which urges you thereto!...\n\n\n 378.\n\n\"_And once more Grow Clear._\"\u2014We, the generous and rich in spirit, who\nstand at the sides of the streets like open fountains and would hinder\nno one from drinking from us: we do not know, alas! how to defend\nourselves when we should like to do so; we have no means of preventing\nourselves being made _turbid_ and dark,\u2014we have no means of preventing\nthe age in which we live casting its \"up-to-date rubbish\" into us, nor\nof hindering filthy birds throwing their excrement, the boys their\ntrash, and fatigued resting travellers their misery, great and small,\ninto us. But we do as we have always done: we take whatever is cast into\nus down into our depths\u2014for we are deep, we do not forget\u2014_and once more\ngrow clear_....\n\n\n 379.\n\n_The Fool's Interruption._\u2014It is not a misanthrope who has written this\nbook: the hatred of men costs too dear to-day. To hate as they formerly\nhated _man_, in the fashion of Timon, completely, without qualification,\nwith all the heart, from the pure _love_ of hatred\u2014for that purpose one\nwould have to renounce contempt:\u2014and how much refined pleasure, how much\npatience, how much benevolence even, do we owe to contempt! Moreover we\nare thereby the \"elect of God\": refined contempt is our taste and\nprivilege, our art, our virtue perhaps, we, the most modern amongst the\nmoderns!... Hatred, on the contrary, makes equal, it puts men face to\nface, in hatred there is honour; finally, in hatred there is _fear_,\nquite a large amount of fear. We fearless ones, however, we, the most\nintellectual men of the period, know our advantage well enough to live\nwithout fear as the most intellectual persons of this age. People will\nnot easily behead us, shut us up, or banish us; they will not even ban\nor burn our books. The age loves intellect, it loves us, and needs us,\neven when we have to give it to understand that we are artists in\ndespising; that all intercourse with men is something of a horror to us;\nthat with all our gentleness, patience, humanity and courteousness, we\ncannot persuade our nose to abandon its prejudice against the proximity\nof man; that we love nature the more, the less humanly things are done\nby her, and that we love art _when_ it is the flight of the artist from\nman, or the raillery of the artist at man, or the raillery of the artist\nat himself....\n\n\n 380.\n\n_\"The Wanderer\" Speaks._\u2014In order for once to get a glimpse of our\nEuropean morality from a distance, in order to compare it with other\nearlier or future moralities, one must do as the traveller who wants to\nknow the height of the towers of a city: for that purpose he _leaves_\nthe city. \"Thoughts concerning moral prejudices,\" if they are not to be\nprejudices concerning prejudices, presuppose a position _outside of_\nmorality, some sort of world beyond good and evil, to which one must\nascend, climb, or fly\u2014and in the given case at any rate, a position\nbeyond _our_ good and evil, an emancipation from all \"Europe,\"\nunderstood as a sum of inviolable valuations which have become part and\nparcel of our flesh and blood. That one _wants_ in fact to get outside,\nor aloft, is perhaps a sort of madness, a peculiarly unreasonable \"thou\nmust\"\u2014for even we thinkers have our idiosyncrasies of \"unfree will\"\u2014:\nthe question is whether one _can_ really get there. That may depend on\nmanifold conditions: in the main it is a question of how light or how\nheavy we are, the problem of our \"specific gravity.\" One must be _very\nlight_ in order to impel one's will to knowledge to such a distance, and\nas it were beyond one's age, in order to create eyes for oneself for the\nsurvey of millenniums, and a pure heaven in these eyes besides! One must\nhave freed oneself from many things by which we Europeans of to-day are\noppressed, hindered, held down, and made heavy. The man of such a\n\"Beyond,\" who wants to get even in sight of the highest standards of\nworth of his age, must first of all \"surmount\" this age in himself\u2014it is\nthe test of his power\u2014and consequently not only his age, but also his\npast aversion and opposition _to_ his age, his suffering _caused by_ his\nage, his unseasonableness, his Romanticism....\n\n\n 381.\n\n_The Question of Intelligibility._\u2014One not only wants to be understood\nwhen one writes, but also\u2014quite as certainly\u2014_not_ to be understood. It\nis by no means an objection to a book when someone finds it\nunintelligible: perhaps this might just have been the intention of its\nauthor,\u2014perhaps he did not _want_ to be understood by \"anyone.\" A\ndistinguished intellect and taste, when it wants to communicate its\nthoughts, always selects its hearers; by selecting them, it at the same\ntime closes its barriers against \"the others.\" It is there that all the\nmore refined laws of style have their origin: they at the same time keep\noff, they create distance, they prevent \"access\" (intelligibility, as we\nhave said,)\u2014while they open the ears of those who are acoustically\nrelated to them. And to say it between ourselves and with reference to\nmy own case,\u2014I do not desire that either my ignorance, or the vivacity\nof my temperament, should prevent me being understood by _you_, my\nfriends: I certainly do not desire that my vivacity should have that\neffect, however much it may impel me to arrive quickly at an object, in\norder to arrive at it at all. For I think it is best to do with profound\nproblems as with a cold bath\u2014quickly in, quickly out. That one does not\nthereby get into the depths, that one does not get deep enough _down_\u2014is\na superstition of the hydrophobic, the enemies of cold water; they speak\nwithout experience. Oh! the great cold makes one quick!\u2014And let me ask\nby the way: Is it a fact that a thing has been misunderstood and\nunrecognised when it has only been touched upon in passing, glanced at,\nflashed at? Must one absolutely sit upon it in the first place? Must one\nhave brooded on it as on an egg? _Diu noctuque incubando_, as Newton\nsaid of himself? At least there are truths of a peculiar shyness and\nticklishness which one can only get hold of suddenly, and in no other\nway,\u2014which one must either _take by surprise_, or leave alone....\nFinally, my brevity has still another value: on those questions which\npre-occupy me, I must say a great deal briefly, in order that it may be\nheard yet more briefly. For as immoralist, one has to take care lest one\nruins innocence, I mean the asses and old maids of both sexes, who get\nnothing from life but their innocence; moreover my writings are meant to\nfill them with enthusiasm, to elevate them, to encourage them in virtue.\nI should be at a loss to know of anything more amusing than to see\nenthusiastic old asses and maids moved by the sweet feelings of virtue:\nand \"that have I seen\"\u2014spake Zarathustra. So much with respect to\nbrevity; the matter stands worse as regards my ignorance, of which I\nmake no secret to myself. There are hours in which I am ashamed of it;\nto be sure there are likewise hours in which I am ashamed of this shame.\nPerhaps we philosophers, all of us, are badly placed at present with\nregard to knowledge: science is growing, the most learned of us are on\nthe point of discovering that we know too little. But it would be worse\nstill if it were otherwise,\u2014if we knew too much; our duty is and\nremains, first of all, not to get into confusion about ourselves. We\n_are_ different from the learned; although it cannot be denied that\namongst other things we are also learned. We have different needs, a\ndifferent growth, a different digestion: we need more, we need also\nless. There is no formula as to how much an intellect needs for its\nnourishment; if, however, its taste be in the direction of independence,\nrapid coming and going, travelling, and perhaps adventure for which only\nthe swiftest are qualified, it prefers rather to live free on poor fare,\nthan to be unfree and plethoric. Not fat, but the greatest suppleness\nand power is what a good dancer wishes from his nourishment,\u2014and I know\nnot what the spirit of a philosopher would like better than to be a good\ndancer. For the dance is his ideal, and also his art, in the end\nlikewise his sole piety, his \"divine service.\"...\n\n\n 382.\n\n_Great Healthiness._\u2014We, the new, the nameless, the hard-to-understand,\nwe firstlings of a yet untried future\u2014we require for a new end also a\nnew means, namely, a new healthiness, stronger, sharper, tougher, bolder\nand merrier than any healthiness hitherto. He whose soul longs to\nexperience the whole range of hitherto recognised values and\ndesirabilities, and to circumnavigate all the coasts of this ideal\n\"Mediterranean Sea,\" who, from the adventures of his most personal\nexperience, wants to know how it feels to be a conqueror, and discoverer\nof the ideal\u2014as likewise how it is with the artist, the saint, the\nlegislator, the sage, the scholar, the devotee, the prophet, and the\ngodly Nonconformist of the old style:\u2014requires one thing above all for\nthat purpose, _great healthiness_\u2014such healthiness as one not only\npossesses, but also constantly acquires and must acquire, because one\ncontinually sacrifices it again, and must sacrifice it!\u2014And now, after\nhaving been long on the way in this fashion, we Argonauts of the ideal,\nwho are more courageous perhaps than prudent, and often enough\nshipwrecked and brought to grief, nevertheless, as said above, healthier\nthan people would like to admit, dangerously healthy, always healthy\nagain,\u2014it would seem, as if in recompense for it all, that we have a\nstill undiscovered country before us, the boundaries of which no one has\nyet seen, a beyond to all countries and corners of the ideal known\nhitherto, a world so over-rich in the beautiful, the strange, the\nquestionable, the frightful, and the divine, that our curiosity as well\nas our thirst for possession thereof, have got out of hand\u2014alas! that\nnothing will now any longer satisfy us! How could we still be content\nwith _the man of the present day_ after such peeps, and with such a\ncraving in our conscience and consciousness? What a pity; but it is\nunavoidable that we should look on the worthiest aims and hopes of the\nman of the present day with ill-concealed amusement, and perhaps should\nno longer look at them. Another ideal runs on before us, a strange,\ntempting ideal, full of danger, to which we should not like to persuade\nany one, because we do not so readily acknowledge any one's _right\nthereto_: the ideal of a spirit who plays na\u00efvely (that is to say\ninvoluntarily and from overflowing abundance and power) with everything\nthat has hitherto been called holy, good, inviolable, divine; to whom\nthe loftiest conception which the people have reasonably made their\nmeasure of value, would already imply danger, ruin, abasement, or at\nleast relaxation, blindness, or temporary self-forgetfulness; the ideal\nof a humanly superhuman welfare and benevolence, which may often enough\nappear _inhuman_, for example, when put by the side of all past\nseriousness on earth, and in comparison with all past solemnities in\nbearing, word, tone, look, morality and pursuit, as their truest\ninvoluntary parody,\u2014 but with which, nevertheless, perhaps _the great\nseriousness_ only commences, the proper interrogation mark is set up,\nthe fate of the soul changes, the hour-hand moves, and tragedy\n_begins_....\n\n\n 383.\n\n_Epilogue._\u2014But while I slowly, slowly finish the painting of this\nsombre interrogation-mark, and am still inclined to remind my readers of\nthe virtues of right reading\u2014oh, what forgotten and unknown virtues\u2014it\ncomes to pass that the wickedest, merriest, gnome-like laughter resounds\naround me: the spirits of my book themselves pounce upon me, pull me by\nthe ears, and call me to order. \"We cannot endure it any longer,\" they\nshout to me, \"away, away with this raven-black music. Is it not clear\nmorning round about us? And green, soft ground and turf, the domain of\nthe dance? Was there ever a better hour in which to be joyful? Who will\nsing us a song, a morning song, so sunny, so light and so fledged that\nit will _not_ scare the tantrums,\u2014but will rather invite them to take\npart in the singing and dancing. And better a simple rustic bagpipe than\nsuch weird sounds, such toad-croakings, grave-voices and marmot-pipings,\nwith which you have hitherto regaled us in your wilderness, Mr Anchorite\nand Musician of the Future! No! Not such tones! But let us strike up\nsomething more agreeable and more joyful!\"\u2014You would like to have it so,\nmy impatient friends? Well! Who would not willingly accord with your\nwishes? My bagpipe is waiting, and my voice also\u2014it may sound a little\nhoarse; take it as it is! don't forget we are in the mountains! But what\nyou will hear is at least new; and if you do not understand it, if you\nmisunderstand the _singer_, what does it matter! That\u2014has always been\n\"The Singer's Curse.\"[14] So much the more distinctly can you hear his\nmusic and melody, so much the better also can you\u2014dance to his piping.\n_Would you like_ to do that?...\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 11:\n\n In German the expression _Kopf zu waschen_, besides the literal sense,\n also means \"to give a person a sound drubbing.\"\u2014TR.\n\nFootnote 12:\n\n \"_Germany, Germany, above all_\": the first line of the German national\n song.\u2014TR.\n\nFootnote 13:\n\n An allusion to the German Proverb, \"Handwerk hat einen goldenen\n Boden.\"\u2014TR.\n\nFootnote 14:\n\n Title of the well-known poem of Uhland.\u2014TR.\n\n\n\n\n APPENDIX\n\n SONGS OF PRINCE FREE-AS-A-BIRD\n\n\n TO GOETHE.[15]\n\n \"The Undecaying\"\n Is but thy label,\n God the betraying\n Is poets' fable.\n\n Our aims all are thwarted\n By the World-wheel's blind roll:\n \"Doom,\" says the downhearted,\n \"Sport,\" says the fool.\n\n The World-sport, all-ruling,\n Mingles false with true:\n The Eternally Fooling\n Makes us play, too!\n\n\n THE POET'S CALL.\n\n As 'neath a shady tree I sat\n After long toil to take my pleasure,\n I heard a tapping \"pit-a-pat\"\n Beat prettily in rhythmic measure.\n Tho' first I scowled, my face set hard,\n The sound at length my sense entrapping\n Forced me to speak like any bard,\n And keep true time unto the tapping.\n\n As I made verses, never stopping,\n Each syllable the bird went after,\n Keeping in time with dainty hopping!\n I burst into unmeasured laughter!\n What, you a poet? You a poet?\n Can your brains truly so addled be?\n \"Yes, yes, good sir, you are a poet,\"\n Chirped out the pecker, mocking me.\n\n What doth me to these woods entice?\n The chance to give some thief a trouncing?\n A saw, an image? Ha, in a trice\n My rhyme is on it, swiftly pouncing!\n All things that creep or crawl the poet\n Weaves in his word-loom cunningly.\n \"Yes, yes, good sir, you are a poet,\"\n Chirped out the pecker, mocking me.\n\n Like to an arrow, methinks, a verse is,\n See how it quivers, pricks and smarts\n When shot full straight (no tender mercies!)\n Into the reptile's nobler parts!\n Wretches, you die at the hand of the poet,\n Or stagger like men that have drunk too free.\n \"Yes, yes, good sir, you are a poet,\"\n Chirped out the pecker, mocking me.\n\n So they go hurrying, stanzas malign,\n Drunken words\u2014what a clattering, banging!\u2014\n Till the whole company, line on line,\n All on the rhythmic chain are hanging.\n Has he really a cruel heart, your poet?\n Are there fiends who rejoice, the slaughter to see?\n \"Yes, yes, good sir, you are a poet,\"\n Chirped out the pecker, mocking me.\n\n So you jest at me, bird, with your scornful graces?\n So sore indeed is the plight of my head?\n And my heart, you say, in yet sorrier case is?\n Beware! for my wrath is a thing to dread!\n Yet e'en in the hour of his wrath the poet\n Rhymes you and sings with the selfsame glee.\n \"Yes, yes, good sir, you are a poet,\"\n Chirped out the pecker, mocking me.\n\n\n IN THE SOUTH.[16]\n\n I swing on a bough, and rest\n My tired limbs in a nest,\n In the rocking home of a bird,\n Wherein I perch as his guest,\n In the South!\n\n I gaze on the ocean asleep,\n On the purple sail of a boat;\n On the harbour and tower steep,\n On the rocks that stand out of the deep,\n In the South!\n\n For I could no longer stay,\n To crawl in slow German way;\n So I called to the birds, bade the wind\n Lift me up and bear me away\n To the South!\n\n No reasons for me, if you please;\n Their end is too dull and too plain;\n But a pair of wings and a breeze,\n With courage and health and ease,\n And games that chase disease\n From the South!\n\n Wise thoughts can move without sound,\n But I've songs that I can't sing alone;\n So birdies, pray gather around,\n And listen to what I have found\n In the South!\n\n * * *\n\n \"You are merry lovers and false and gay,\n In frolics and sport you pass the day;\n Whilst in the North, I shudder to say,\n I worshipped a woman, hideous and gray,\n Her name was Truth, so I heard them say,\n But I left her there and I flew away\n To the South!\"\n\n\n BEPPA THE PIOUS.\n\n While beauty in my face is,\n Be piety my care,\n For God, you know, loves lasses,\n And, more than all, the fair.\n And if yon hapless monkling\n Is fain with me to live,\n Like many another monkling,\n God surely will forgive.\n\n No grey old priestly devil,\n But, young, with cheeks aflame\u2014\n Who e'en when sick with revel,\n Can jealous be and blame.\n To greybeards I'm a stranger,\n And he, too, hates the old:\n Of God, the world-arranger,\n The wisdom here behold!\n\n The Church has ken of living,\n And tests by heart and face.\n To me she'll be forgiving!\n Who will not show me grace?\n I lisp with pretty halting,\n I curtsey, bid \"good day,\"\n And with the fresh defaulting\n I wash the old away!\n\n Praise be this man-God's guerdon,\n Who loves all maidens fair,\n And his own heart can pardon\n The sin he planted there.\n While beauty in my face is,\n With piety I'll stand,\n When age has killed my graces,\n Let Satan claim my hand!\n\n\n THE BOAT OF MYSTERY.\n\n Yester-eve, when all things slept\u2014\n Scarce a breeze to stir the lane\u2014\n I a restless vigil kept,\n Nor from pillows sleep could gain,\n Nor from poppies nor\u2014most sure\n Of opiates\u2014a conscience pure.\n\n Thoughts of rest I 'gan forswear,\n Rose and walked along the strand,\n Found, in warm and moonlit air,\n Man and boat upon the sand,\n Drowsy both, and drowsily\n Did the boat put out to sea.\n\n Passed an hour or two perchance,\n Or a year? then thought and sense\n Vanished in the engulfing trance\n Of a vast Indifference.\n Fathomless, abysses dread\n Opened\u2014then the vision fled.\n\n Morning came: becalmed, the boat\n Rested on the purple flood:\n \"What had happened?\" every throat\n Shrieked the question: \"was there\u2014Blood?\"\n Naught had happened! On the swell\n We had slumbered, oh, so well!\n\n\n AN AVOWAL OF LOVE\n\n (_during which, however, the poet fell into a pit_).\n\n Oh marvel! there he flies\n Cleaving the sky with wings unmoved\u2014what force\n Impels him, bids him rise,\n What curb restrains him? Where's his goal, his course?\n\n Like stars and time eterne\n He liveth now in heights that life forswore,\n Nor envy's self doth spurn:\n A lofty flight were't, e'en to see him soar!\n\n Oh albatross, great bird,\n Speeding me upward ever through the blue!\n I thought of her, was stirred\n To tears unending\u2014yea, I love her true!\n\n\n SONG OF A THEOCRITEAN GOATHERD.\n\n Here I lie, my bowels sore,\n Hosts of bugs advancing,\n Yonder lights and romp and roar!\n What's that sound? They're dancing!\n\n At this instant, so she prated,\n Stealthily she'd meet me:\n Like a faithful dog I've waited,\n Not a sign to greet me!\n\n She promised, made the cross-sign, too,\n Could her vows be hollow?\n Or runs she after all that woo,\n Like the goats I follow?\n\n Whence your silken gown, my maid?\n Ah, you'd fain be haughty,\n Yet perchance you've proved a jade\n With some satyr naughty!\n\n Waiting long, the lovelorn wight\n Is filled with rage and poison:\n Even so on sultry night\n Toadstools grow in foison.\n\n Pinching sore, in devil's mood,\n Love doth plague my crupper:\n Truly I can eat no food:\n Farewell, onion-supper!\n\n Seaward sinks the moon away,\n The stars are wan, and flare not:\n Dawn approaches, gloomy, grey,\n Let Death come! I care not!\n\n\n \"SOULS THAT LACK DETERMINATION.\"\n\n Souls that lack determination\n Rouse my wrath to white-hot flame!\n All their glory's but vexation,\n All their praise but self-contempt and shame!\n\n Since I baffle their advances,\n Will not clutch their leading-string,\n They would wither me with glances\n Bitter-sweet, with hopeless envy sting.\n\n Let them with fell curses shiver,\n Curl their lip the livelong day!\n Seek me as they will, forever\n Helplessly their eyes shall go astray!\n\n\n THE FOOL'S DILEMMA.\n\n Ah, what I wrote on board and wall\n With foolish heart, in foolish scrawl,\n I meant but for their decoration!\n\n Yet say you, \"Fools' abomination!\n Both board and wall require purgation,\n And let no trace our eyes appal!\"\n\n Well, I will help you, as I can,\n For sponge and broom are my vocation,\n As critic and as waterman.\n\n But when the finished work I scan,\n I'm glad to see each learned owl\n With \"wisdom\" board and wall defoul.\n\n\n RIMUS REMEDIUM\n\n (_or a Consolation to Sick Poets_).\n\n From thy moist lips,\n O Time, thou witch, beslavering me,\n Hour upon hour too slowly drips\n In vain\u2014I cry, in frenzy's fit,\n \"A curse upon that yawning pit,\n A curse upon Eternity!\"\n\n The world's of brass,\n A fiery bullock, deaf to wail:\n Pain's dagger pierces my cuirass,\n Wing\u00e9d, and writes upon my bone:\n \"Bowels and heart the world hath none,\n Why scourge her sins with anger's flail?\"\n\n Pour poppies now,\n Pour venom, Fever, on my brain!\n Too long you test my hand and brow:\n What ask you? \"What\u2014reward is paid?\"\n A malediction on you, jade,\n And your disdain!\n\n No, I retract,\n 'Tis cold\u2014I hear the rain importune\u2014\n Fever, I'll soften, show my tact:\n Here's gold\u2014a coin\u2014see it gleam!\n Shall I with blessings on you beam,\n Call you \"good fortune\"?\n\n The door opes wide,\n And raindrops on my bed are scattered,\n The light's blown out\u2014woes multiplied!\n He that hath not an hundred rhymes,\n I'll wager, in these dolorous times\n We'd see him shattered!\n\n\n MY BLISS.\n\n Once more, St Mark, thy pigeons meet my gaze,\n The Square lies still, in slumbering morning mood:\n In soft, cool air I fashion idle lays,\n Speeding them skyward like a pigeon's brood:\n And then recall my minions\n To tie fresh rhymes upon their willing pinions.\n My bliss! My bliss!\n\n Calm heavenly roof of azure silkiness,\n Guarding with shimmering haze yon house divine!\n Thee, house, I love, fear\u2014envy, I'll confess,\n And gladly would suck out that soul of thine!\n \"Should I give back the prize?\"\n Ask not, great pasture-ground for human eyes!\n My bliss! My bliss!\n\n Stern belfry, rising as with lion's leap\n Sheer from the soil in easy victory,\n That fill'st the Square with peal resounding, deep,\n Wert thou in French that Square's \"accent aigu\"?\n Were I for ages set\n In earth like thee, I know what silk-meshed net....\n My bliss! My bliss!\n\n Hence, music! First let darker shadows come,\n And grow, and merge into brown, mellow night!\n 'Tis early for your pealing, ere the dome\n Sparkle in roseate glory, gold-bedight\n While yet 'tis day, there's time\n For strolling, lonely muttering, forging rhyme\u2014\n My bliss! My bliss!\n\n\n COLUMBUS REDIVIVUS.\n\n Thither I'll travel, that's my notion,\n I'll trust myself, my grip,\n Where opens wide and blue the ocean\n I'll ply my Genoa ship.\n\n New things on new the world unfolds me,\n Time, space with noonday die:\n Alone thy monstrous eye beholds me,\n Awful Infinity!\n\n\n SILS-MARIA.\n\n Here sat I waiting, waiting, but for naught!\n Beyond all good and evil\u2014now by light wrought\n\n To joy, now by dark shadows\u2014all was leisure,\n All lake, all noon, all time sans aim, sans measure.\n\n Then one, dear friend, was swiftly changed to twain,\n And Zarathustra left my teeming brain....\n\n\n A DANCING SONG TO THE MISTRAL\n WIND.[17]\n\n Wildly rushing, clouds outleaping,\n Care-destroying, Heaven sweeping,\n Mistral wind, thou art my friend!\n Surely 'twas one womb did bear us,\n Surely 'twas one fate did pair us,\n Fellows for a common end.\n\n From the crags I gaily greet you,\n Running fast I come to meet you,\n Dancing while you pipe and sing.\n How you bound across the ocean,\n Unimpeded, free in motion,\n Swifter than with boat or wing!\n\n Through my dreams your whistle sounded,\n Down the rocky stairs I bounded\n To the golden ocean wall;\n Saw you hasten, swift and glorious,\n Like a river, strong, victorious,\n Tumbling in a waterfall.\n\n Saw you rushing over Heaven,\n With your steeds so wildly driven,\n Saw the car in which you flew;\n Saw the lash that wheeled and quivered,\n While the hand that held it shivered,\n Urging on the steeds anew.\n\n Saw you from your chariot swinging,\n So that swifter downward springing\n Like an arrow you might go\n Straight into the deep abysses,\n As a sunbeam falls and kisses\n Roses in the morning glow.\n\n Dance, oh! dance on all the edges,\n Wave-crests, cliffs and mountain ledges,\n Ever finding dances new!\n Let our knowledge be our gladness,\n Let our art be sport and madness,\n All that's joyful shall be true!\n\n Let us snatch from every bower,\n As we pass, the fairest flower,\n With some leaves to make a crown;\n Then, like minstrels gaily dancing,\n Saint and witch together prancing,\n Let us foot it up and down.\n\n Those who come must move as quickly\n As the wind\u2014we'll have no sickly,\n Crippled, withered, in our crew;\n Off with hypocrites and preachers,\n Proper folk and prosy teachers,\n Sweep them from our heaven blue.\n\n Sweep away all sad grimaces,\n Whirl the dust into the faces\n Of the dismal sick and cold!\n Hunt them from our breezy places,\n Not for them the wind that braces,\n But for men of visage bold.\n\n Off with those who spoil earth's gladness,\n Blow away all clouds of sadness,\n Till our heaven clear we see;\n Let me hold thy hand, best fellow,\n Till my joy like tempest bellow!\n Freest thou of spirits free!\n\n When thou partest, take a token\n Of the joy thou hast awoken,\n Take our wreath and fling it far;\n Toss it up and catch it never,\n Whirl it on before thee ever,\n Till it reach the farthest star.\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 15:\n\n This poem is a parody of the \"Chorus Mysticus\" which concludes the\n second part of Goethe's \"Faust.\" Bayard Taylor's translation of the\n passage in \"Faust\" runs as follows:\u2014\n\n \"All things transitory\n But as symbols are sent,\n Earth's insufficiency\n Here grows to Event:\n The Indescribable\n Here it is done:\n The Woman-Soul leadeth us\n Upward and on!\"\n\nFootnote 16:\n\n Translated by Miss M. D. Petre. Inserted by permission of the editor\n of the _Nation_, in which it appeared on April 17, 1909.\n\nFootnote 17:\n\n Translated by Miss M. D. Petre. Inserted by permission of the editor\n of the _Nation_, in which it appeared on May 15, 1909.\n\n\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n FOOTNOTES:\n\n\n\n\n Transcriber's Note\n\nThe original spelling and punctuation has been retained.\n\nVariations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.\n\nItalicized words and phrases in the text version are presented by\nsurrounding the text with underscores.","title":"The Joyful Wisdom (\"La Gaya Scienza\")","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":84701}