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Iprescntco to

Gbe Xibrar^
of tbe

"University of Toronto




THE SYMPOSIUM OF PLATO From the Painting by Anselm Feuerbach .





Cf)e jftineteentf) anD
Ctoentietf) Centuries

Masterpieces of German Literature



Ph.D., LL.D., Litt.D.

Professor of the History of German Culture and Curator of the Germanic Museum,

Harvard University

Assistant Editor-in-Chief

Assistant Professor of

German, Harvard University


©mrntij Holumre SliixBtrateb


Copyright 1014

The German Publication Society


Special Writers.

Hugo Munsterberg,

Ph.D., M.D., LL.D., Litt.D., Professor of Psychology,
II as a National Type. Litt.D., LL.D.,

Harvard University: Emperor William

Mary Whiton Calkins,

Professor of Philosophy, Wellesley

Arthur Schopenhauer and His Philosophy.

Karl Detlev Jessen,
College Friederich

Ph.D., Professor of



Bryn Mawr

Wilhelm Nietzsche. Harvard University:


R. Spalding, A.M., Associate Professor of Music,

The Prose Works

Richard Wagner.

Edmund Von Mach,

in English, University of Penn-

Speeches of Emperor William II. Charles Wharton Stork, Ph.D., Instructor
R. B.

The Drunken Song; Venice.

Haldane and



The World as Will and Idea. Bailey Saunders: Parerga and Paralipomena.
Art and Revolution; Man and Art in General; The Art of Tone; The Art of Sculpture Outlines of the Art Work of the Future Opera and the Nature of Music; A Communication to My Friends; Beethoven;
; ;

William Ashton Ellis:

Speech at

W eber's


Thomas Common:
Thus Spake Zarathustra. Adrian Collins: The Use and Abuse of History. Helen Zimmern, Paul V. Cohn, J. M. Kennedy, Thomas Common, Horace B. Samuel, Anthony M. Ludovici:

Miss M. D. Petre:


Dancing Song to the Mistral Wind. A. Haussman and John Gray: The Wanderer.


Helen Zimmern: From Lofty Mountains.

Arthur Schopenhauer


Arthur Schopenhauer and His Philosophy. By Mary Whiton Calkins The World as Will and Idea. Translated by R. B. Haldane and J. Kemp. Parerga and Paralipomena. Translated by T. Bailey Saunders: On Genius




On the Sufferings of the World On Suicide On Thinking for Oneself On Style On Women
Richard Wagner

93 99 109


The Prose Works of Richard Wagner. By Walter R. Spalding Art and Revolution. Translated by William Ashton Ellis Man and Art in General. Translated by William Ashton Ellis The Art of Tone. Translated by William Ashton Ellis The Art of Sculpture. Translated by William Ashton Ellis Outlines of the Art Work of the Future. Translated by William Ashton

141 149


170 192

Opera and the Nature of Music. Translated by William Ashton Ellis A Communication to My Friends. Translated by William Ashton Ellis. Beethoven. Translated by William Ashton Ellis Translated by William Ashton Ellis iSpeech at Weber's Grave.




208 214
235 250


Wilhelm Nietzsche
253 272 340
367 433 433 434 434 434

Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche. By Karl Detlev Jessen Thus Spake Zarathustra. Translated by Thomas Common The Use and Abuse of History. Translated by Adrian Collins

Translated by Charles Wharton Stork Venice. Translated by Charles Wharton Stork Ecce Homo To Richard Wagner A Dancing Song to the Mistral Wind. Translated by Miss M. D. Petre.

Aphorisms The Drunken Song.


The Wanderer.

From Lofty Mountains.

Translated by William A. Haussmann and John Gray Translated by Helen Zimmern






Emperor William


Emperor William II as a National Type. By Hugo Munsterberg Speeches of Emperor William II. Translated by Edmund von Mach:
Employers and Employees Needed Improvement in the Conditions of the Working People The German Elag Needed Reform of the Prussian Schools


450 453
456 458 467

Men of Brandenburg, We are Meant for Big Things! The German Empire has Duties also Across the Sea! The New Port of Stettin

The Germany Empire-Oak Germany the Preserver of Peace The Importance of Inland Waterways Germany's Need of a Navy
Technical Universities

The Berlin Academy

of Sciences

Ideals of Student Life

Our Future Lies on the Water True Art The German Folk-Song Germany and North America

470 472 473 475 478 480 482 485 487 489 403 495
500 505


Christian Life

Emperor Frederick, Patron of German Art Westphalia as an Example of German Union The Larger Scope of the University of Berlin The Duties of a Naval Officer
Advice to Young Students


517 520 522

The Symposium
of Plato.

Frontispiece 14

Arthur Schopenhauer.

By Anselm Feuerbach By Wulff

By Max Klinger By Max Klinger On the Rails. By Max Klinger The Bowmen. By Hans Thoma
Mother and Child.
Richard Wagner. By Franz von Lenbach The Wagner Monument at Berlin. By Eberlein
" Wahnfried," Bayreuth Wagner's Villa

80 120


The Bayreuth Wagner Theatre On the Way Toward the Grail. By Hans Thoma The Castle of the Holy Grail. By Hans Thoma Friedrich Nietzsche. By John Philipp
Friedrich Nietzsche.

184 204 224


By Max Klinger By Stauffer-Bern By Hans Thoma

244 264 294

384 420

The Guardian of the Garden of Love. By Hans Thoma The Guardian of the Valley. By Hans Thoma Emperor William II Monument of Emperor William I at Berlin. By Reinhold Begas


By Hans Thoma The Aamzon. By Louis Tuaillon Bismarck Monument. By A. von Hildebrand
Lonely Ride.



If the

men were

to be

named who most

strongly have

affected the imagination and shaped the ideals of Germans since the days of Bismarck, there can be little doubt that

the four


most people's minds.

included in this volume would come first to For there is not a German living

today who has not, directly or indirectly, received a decisive impulse and lasting inspiration from Schopenhauer's keen analysis of reality, from Richard Wagner's glorification of sensuous emotion, from Nietzsche's exaltation of the Superman, and from Emperor William's noble conception of Germany's intellectual and moral mission. It is a particular satisfaction that the gracious permission of His Majesty the German Emperor made it possible
to link

through selections from his speeches dealing with religion, social reform, art, education, and sport, with those other three intellectual leaders of contemporary Germany; and the Editors and Publishers of


Classics desire, in this place also, to express their sincere gratitude for the favor bestowed upon them.

The German

That Max Klinger and Hans Thoma should have been foremost among the artists selected for the illustration of this volume, needs, I believe, no explanation. Kuisro Francke.

By Mary Whiton Calkins,



Professor of Philosophy, Wellesley College


JY work," wrote Schopenhauer in the spring
of 1818,




"is a new philosophical system a highly consistent thought-order

which has, up to this time, come into no man's head. The book * * * will later become the source and suggestion of a hundred others. * * * It is equally far removed from the bombastic, empty and senseless wordiness of the new philosophical school and from the vague commonplace chit-chat of the pre-Kantian period. The


may add, not without beauty; for only he who has genuine thoughts of his own has a genuine style. I set a high value on my work; for I * regard it as the full fruit of my life. One imagines that Schopenhauer's publisher, Friedrieh Arnold Brockhaus, to whom these words were written, must have smiled at the naivete of this self-glorification. Yet sober-minded commentators have repeated Schopenhauer's estimate of his great work, The World as Will and Idea. It is true that he exaggerates the divergence of his system from those of his contemporaries, whose work he designates as " empty verbiage," and true also that the critics have
style is clear yet forcible and, I
' '

found gaps and flaws in the vaunted thought-order. Yet the profundity of Schopenhauer's insig'ht and the keenness of his criticism, the breadth of his outlook and the richness of his culture, and finally the clearness and charm of his style unite to make of The World as Will and Idea a masterpiece of philosophy and of literature. And, more exactly

Quoted in Gwinner, Schopenhauer's Leben, 3d edition,

p. 125.

XV —



a " " (as his son later described him) left proud republican his home in 1793. Henry Schopenhauer. when Dantzig ceased to exist as a free city. in was singularly bom Dantzig. the doctrines of his earlier books are embodied in it. This granted. From entries in his journal during these months of travel w<. when he spent two months in an English boarding school in the course of a two-years' journey with his parents through France. His mother. on his return. in contemporary literature and in travel. 1788. like his own. had all but forgotten his native German. devoid of great sympathies and of compelling loyalties. apart from its intellectual crea- self-centred. and his later works are but applications and supplements of its teachings. Henry Schopenhauer seems to have gloated over the fact that the boy. in art. a few years later. Arthur Schopenhauer spent his ninth and tenth years. We " read thai he lost all in travel at sight of the miserable huts and wretched people. and England. Johanna Schopenhauer. the happiest period — he tells us — of his childhood. in Havre in the family of a friend of his father. attractive and self-seeking woman who shared her husband's interest in society. tiveness. He destined his son to the freedom and power of a position. it follows that the book was indeed the "full fruit" of Schopenhauer's life which. at the time of the second partition of Poland. and proceeded to prepare the boy for such a life by a curiously cosmopolitan training. His father. For The World as Will and Idea is the final formulation of Schopenhauer's philosophy. Arthur Schopenhauer was in February. was a light-hearted. was a man of wide if rather superficial culture. his last words in the quoted passage state the bare fact.learn how temperamental was enjoyment his pessimism. Switzerland. of keen intellect and of obstinate will. trivial and petty. a great merchant and landowner.2 THE GERMAN CLASSICS than Schopenhauer could have realized when he wrote them." and he exclaims . in high commerce. and took up his residence in Hamburg. His training in English followed.

but by the unsympathetic self-assertiveness which marked him and isolated him through life. in April. In the end. on his return to Hamburg. and within a few weeks " the welding power of great common experiences together with her social charm. of his father. capable of delicate flattery. ." She was a throughout Germany as woman of lively social instinct. 1805. She reached Weimar precisely in the time of confusion which accompanied and followed the battle of Jena. This the wretched galley slaves long journey was memorable for Schopenhauer because as ' ' " had exacted from him a promise to enter.SCHOPENHAUER at the horror of the 3 utterly joyless and hopeless life of whom he saw at Toulon. Immediately on her husband's death Johanna Schopenknown hauer had taken up her residence in "Weimar " court of the Muses. his accountant's desk became intolerable and he obtained his mother's consent to self for the university. not only by that sensitiveness to misery and ugliness which his journals have disclosed. with the culture due to wide travel and to the unhampered reading of poetry and — romance. yet his always keen sense of honesty made it seem to him impossible to retract the promthe more impossible after the sudden ise he had given price of it his father — death. in full control of her sympathies. His work was at every point uncongenial. and responsive to every change in her personal environment. she was sensitive to the impressions she made. The two years which followed were in a way the hardest of his life. her generosity. upon a systematic course of commercial training. however. which his mother comments on this event indicate that Schopenhauer was already characterized. and the prospect of a merchant's career became with every day more intensely distasteful. The conviction that he had bargained away his life at the very outset of it embittered him. undertake the preparation of him- The first months of his classical Gotha and were terminated by the unlucky publication of certain clever verses in which he had study were spent at The letters in satirized one of his gymnasium teachers.

He was welcome to be life present at her two weekly evenings at home but only on the condition that he would refrain from his painful dis" and his " endless lamentations over the stupid putes ' ' ' ' world and the misery of mankind. • Gwinn. and other men of distinction. ties of the town. Passow. but not to be a witness of your conyou tentment. the Schlegels. Even her bourgeois origin was overlooked. p.4 THE GERMAN CLASSICS and her talents had won her the friendship of all the celebriIn her salon one might meet Goethe."* Wieland. 37. Schopenhauer's Leben. are contented. " as if she were not in Weimar. always gives me a poor night and bad dreams and I like to sleep well. " living his own dining with her every day but." she assures her son. to study under the hellenist scholar.-r. After the Gotha episode she made arrangements for his coming to Weimar. Johanna Schopenhauer did scant justice to the relentless keenness of observation on which Arthur Schopenhauer's pessimism is so firmly based. In these congenial surroundings Frau Schopenhauer lived a blissfully contented life and she was wholly determined not to be disturbed in it by her troublesome son. All your good qualities are obscured by your super-cleverness and are useless to the world. because you can't control your passion for finding fault with every one except yourself and for reforming and ruling every- — It is essential to my happiness to know that body. for the rest." * * * " You are not without " but spirit and culture. but she rightly diagnosed the exaggerated self-concern which narrowed his sympathies." The naive selfishness of this communication from a mother to her son need not obscure the partial * * * accuracy of her estimate of him. Fernow. Grimm. intellectual and personal. and she was received at the ducal court of Karl August. you are an unendurable bore and I regard it to the last degree difficult to live with you." she adds." " This sort of thing. and carefully provided that he should live apart from her. .

After making his doctorate Schopenhauer returned for a few months to Weimar. and for the zeal with which he followed the advice of his philosophical professor. So. a brilliant essay on The Fourfold Root of the Principle of Sufficient Reason. and especially interested in his intuitional conception of geometry." was calmly finishing his doctor's dissertation and negotiating with the University of Jena for his degree. His dissertation. From Gottingen he went on posed to Berlin where he spent three semesters and pur- to take his degree. then at the very dawn of their renaissance period. Schopen- hauer availed himself most eagerly of the opportunity to come into intimate relation with Goethe and threw himself with avidity into the optical experimentation. but he was too independent to become a disciple and too speculatively inclined not to turn his investigation to the account of his idealistic philosophy. as he says. giving over what Schopenhauer later described contemptu" " algebraic comparisons of ego with non-ego ously as his was exhorting and self inciting student-soldiers in camp (him- dissuaded from undertaking military service). a peaceful valley untroubled by " the sight of a soldier or of the sound of a with difficulty trumpet. that he with his fists." Schopenhauer not born to help humanity betook himself to a more peaceful scene. struck by the independence of the young writer. Schulze. Convinced. His two years here are significant chiefly for the ardor with which he threw himself into the study of the natural sciences. to study mainly the masters. So it happened that Schopenhauer's . sought to interest him in the optical experiments and to convert him to the color theory which were at that period absorbing the great poet's marvelously versatile mind. Schopenhauer in Rudolstadt. Schopenhauer had accomplished the equivalent of a gymnasium course and matriculated at the University of Gottingen. while Fichte. The outbreak of war occasioned ' ' was a swift change of plan. for the most part under private teachers. brought him into personal contact with Goethe who.SCHOPENHAUER 5 After two years of training. Plato and Kant.

for the but unvisited by students and all but ignored by Schopenhauer's colleagues. In 1820. Only the society. With character- Belf-assurance he chose for his lectures the very hours at which Hegel. prompted per- hape by a threatened financial disaster (the occasion for fresh embroilment with his mother and his sister). esthetic and sensual. The World as Will and Idea. an essay to Goethe the work of an opponent and brought to an end the intercourse between them. through Friedrich Majer. and (at many points) profound writings . a personal viewpoint this period is noteworthy for bringing to a head the estrangement between Schopenhauer and his From the day that he left Weimar. since for him philosophy is not a science but an art. The result might well have istic embittered a lectures man all were far less vain than Schopenhauer. in 1814. hifl Comparing today lucid. Schopenhauer decided to enter on a career of academic activity and 11 habilitated " as privat-docent in Berlin. held forth to enthusiastic hearers.G THE GERMAN CLASSICS On Vision and Colors. In truth. There followed a period of Italian travel a year " — — of engrossment in pleasure. tie which bound him to relations personal in friends. never again saw either his mother or his sister. his with the possible exception of the father. were spent in Dresden. seemed second publication. brilliant. " the Florence of Ger- He made now and many a fitting birthplace for Schopenhauer's system of philosophy. in later life. there are no strong life. From to the literature of Hindu philosophy and religion. he family. of his few disciples seemed to be permanently congenial. the idol of the philosophical public. The four years between 1814 and 1818. A was Schopenhauer's second significant event of these months in Weimar introduction. in which Schopenhauer was thrilling with the toilsome delight of giving form and content to his supreme creation. yet a year of disappointment because of the inadequate and infrequent recognition of his magnum opus. again. but Schopenhauer's their intercourse was violently interrupted or it fell either away with time.

for it never fairly heard the Hegel younger man who. every few " months." and which describes Hegel's . he could not. and wearisome for repetition. however. stung by neglect. which characterizes Hegel as a " an tan." inspired sheep. and so. give the latest news of der liebe Gott. contemporaries Schopenhauer loses the clearness of vision intellectual honesty which are his finest traits." But it is admitted that Schopenhauer never heard. not dispassionate " common charlacriticism. though for some years he regularly announced his courses. Hegel and it surely is wounded vanity. unlike these others. leaving Schopenhauer's empty. barbarous in terminology. . Whether or not unjust it was certainly also not unnatural that Schopenhauer should attribute to their religious orthodoxy the suc" cess of Hegel and of other professors of philosophy. of Fichte and of Hegel. we exclaim with amazement almost equaling Schopenhauer's at students who would crowd Hegel's lecture rooms. the contempt which " he heaps upon " Fichtean wind-baggery (Fichtesche Windbeutelei) may be partly justified. It was characteristic of him to attribute his " failure to the jealousy of the professors of philosophy his lips a term of contempt). though his comments often indicate his failure to descry Fichte 's meaning through the cloud of Fichte's words. involved in style. and would read Fichte 's endless and awkward Darstellungen in preference to Schopenhauer's consummately perfected masterpiece. Probably." and that he should explain the lack of interest in his own work by the fact that. the case stood thus: Schopenhauer " did not " never got a hearing at all. In his student days at Berlin he had attended Fichte 's lectures and the and had read some of his books.SCHOPENHAUER 7 with the philosophic output. whom he ever after (always on " pursued with virulent and fied fill futile invective. or carefully read. never again lectured in Berlin. These undignithe most unpleasant pages of his outpourings For in these passionate outcries against his writings. the prefer public to Schopenhauer.

and his always individual emphasis he discusses university philosophy. Schopenhauer lived forty years longer. but in 1836 he published The Will in Nature. " in 1851. but the external history of these years is easily told. to shape his style to the popular model. enlarged by a new volume of illustration and commentary. in a translation of Kant into English. in 1831. A of The World as Will and Idea. With his usual lucidity. . art literature and language. The Freedom of the second edition Human Will-and The Basis of Morality. he welcomed the Austrian quelled the outburst. Schopenhauer published that brilliant " medley of essays under the title Parerga and Paralipomena. And at last the years of neglect were atoned for and Schopenhauer was rewarded for the admirable independence of spirit which had forbidden him through all these years. For nearly twenty years he had written nothing of any significance. He journeyed a second time to Italy he spent a year in Munich he lived in Dresden for awhile. spiritualistic phenomena. Berlin had become hate. hollow. religion. despite his craving for approval. him from the irritating yet " " exhilarating neighborhood of professors of philosophy to Frankfurt. to modify or to re-phrase his teaching. . followed in 1844. Here he ful to him." Five years later there appeared two little ethical treatises. and archaeology.8 THE GERMAN CLASSICS as philosophy ' " empty. a series of essays on the " received at " corroborations " which his philosophy had the hands of empirical science. Finally. his incisive comment. the fear of cholera drove lived for the remaining years of his life in a morose sort of tranquillity. his wealth of illustration. patriotic uprising in 1848 temporarily disturbed this outer serenity and. selected for its beautiful situation. An enthusiastic of so notice in The Westminster Review called the attention Germany no less than of England to Schopenhauer. but he did not finally forsake it until. He interested himself. and even nauseating ' verbiage. age and sex. with his customary free- The dom from soldiers all who patriotic feeling. fruitlessly. which brought him tardy fame.

for example. lectured about. taking long walks in the company of his poodle. He himself lived tranquilly (on the ground floor. . and we have still to seek for its inner reality.SCHOPENHAUER It is true that 9 Schopenhauer's admirers belonged for the unacademic walks of life. I. and pointed out to tourists. and the extracts which follow admirably summarize his teaching. that I see a colored disk. Idea. He met death tranquilly. yet even some of the universities undertook the study of his system and he had the pleasure of declining with scorn an invitation to most part to the in the Berlin Academy. Atma. while all his books appeared in new editions. As so far described. is a superficial account. dining at the Hotel d'Angleterre. Schopenhauer was read. Thus. When I say. through fear of fire). the world of physical phenomena and of psychic contents is mere appearance. But the only way The World as Will and. an even briefer summary of the content of it. an external object turns out to be an idea in my mind. 2 ff. " The world. in Schopenhauer's words. "is my idea. what I really know is that I am having an experience the disk is my percept. this world which is thus. and a figure of Buddha. — This. Book Sees. the laws which order it reduce to one fundamental law of sufficient : ' ' reason " the relatedness of every object to other objects . Yet an indication of the sources of it. No German philosopher needs exposition so little as Schopenhauer.." Narrowly scrutinized. though correct as far as it goes. reading and writing and playing the flute in a study whose treasured ornaments were a bust of Kant. however. and a suggestion of its philosophic affiliations may profitably be membership added to this narrative of the philosopher's life.* and this law is not extra-mental but is itself a mode of knowing. during the last decade of his life. a portrait of Goethe. " object only in relation to the subject" is an ordered world. though he had for so long a time spent his best energy in avoiding it. Moreover." so Schopenhauer begins. a function of the subject.

as has appeared. is admitted to be in appearance like my resembles my body in inner essence also. all objects in the world. Bees. . + cit. This inner reality " what we call will. the force with which the magnet turns to the pole * * * yes. inorganic as well step once taken.* I really am is." Schopenhauer asserts. the kernel of every individual and of the — it whole. is in reality nothing other than and the bodily reaction is the mere appearance of the reality which I know as my volition. ff. and if my idea is a phenomenon whose reality is my will. ilbvi. . t Op. my willing self. 87. — " The " which force. for the great diversity of these two is only in the degree of the manifestation. since it own body. it appears in every blindly working nature-force. myself. as organic phenomena. ordinarily regarded as the physical object of whose existence I am most certain." § • It will be noted from this quotation that Schopen- Op. 22. individual objectified will .. even gravity which so powerfully strives in * * * all matter these all [are identical with that * * * * * * Will is the inneris called will.. Sec. 18 Book II. make good their claim to be regarded as objectified will For there is no sharp line to be drawn between animal and plant. My body.. examination of that object of my immediate certainty. that each of these other bodies. even the force through which the crystal expands. "J And.10 THE GERMAN CLASSICS to discover reality is through. oil.. an idea. between plant and crystal. then. which] most nature. not in the essential nature of that which manifests Itself. Op. 20. and nothing is known to us What wholly and with real immediacy except the will. Book II. vegetates in the plants.. appears also in the reflective activity of man. But I observe all about me other bodies similar to my and in intimate connection with it and I argue.! If my body. is simply my idea. Bee. Book II. oit. from body self. 21. in other words. this close analogy. Bee. this is.. p. it follows that the universe has narrowed to the limit of my single.

II. . many >and manifest pictures but there is only one and the same flame which makes them all visible." he says. as a "blind inexorable pressure (Drang) of unconscious nature " which only gradually rises to consciousness.." with all his teaching that he must be thought as will " every force in nature yet conceives of will. fOp. is synonymous will I assert. Book Book Book II. "As " shows lantern. cit. This may be confidently asserted on the testimony of that immediate consciousness of self which is Schopenhauer's authority for the doctrine that will is ultimate reality. and it is disconcerting to find that with all his It is evidently of highest emphasis upon fact that 1 ' its we know one-ness. cit. " of all the manifestations of will can never be filled or satisfied. Every goal attained is merely the starting-point of a new race. 28. f Hence the ceaseless struggle which we observe and experi* " ence. it may be. 27. to desire helplessly." fill the world importance to know more prewhat Schopenhauer means by the will which consticisely tutes reality. "J It may be noted that this complete identification of will with desire in which. but that he implies without argument it must be admitted the conception of the universe as con- — — sisting in its ultimate essence of One Will. as will appear." he says. so far as it is manifested in nature. in Schopenhauer's view of it.SCHOPENHAUER 11 hauer not only conceives of every phenomenon as a manifestation of will. will to live forever devours itself. with all his insistence on the " in the most immediate reality only ' ' ' ' consciousness of every man. 29.. "'The striving. both the pessimism and the ethics of Schopenhauer are rooted. Sec. 11. I affirm * myself — in opposition. cit. Con- — with unsated desire. to Op. J Op. * * * The Every animal becomes the prey of another. To will is not to yearn.. is an untenable position.. Sec.. Everywhere in nature we see combat. so in all the a magic the one will is manifold phenomena which * that which manifests itself. Sec.. in my ' ' scious will.

The world is will and the world is evil the evil. pity. but in the pitiless accuracy of his empirical observation.." f sympathy. . IV. in his refusal to be put off with the circular arguing of theists of Leibniz's type who deduce God's goodness merely from a one-sided observation of the good things in the world and then justify the evils of nature on the ground that the objects of a good God's will must be good. Sec. in every being who suffers. Granted his premises world is will and that will consists in forever yearning for and it follows that the world what can never be attained is.. vaguely conscious of himself as embodiment of the One Will. Every human being. in his merciless arraignment of life. crt. however. Book Book IV. 66. becomes self-sacrifice At its height and the good • Op. save by negating the will! Such negation of the will may take two forms. (1) Obviously." as he said. — * goodness consists therefore in the attainment of the insight that these my fellow men also are manifestations of the Human Thus " the good man makes a ordinary difference between himself and others One Will. fOp. behaves instinctively as if he were the only embodiment thereof. Sec.12 THE GERMAN CLASSICS unattained objects of desire. the worst possible. his will. Schopenhauer's ethical doctrine connects itself closely with this fundamentally pessimistic appraisal of the unihow meet verse. less than recognizes himself. * * * a constant struggle for life with a cer- — — tainty of losing it in the end. his very therefore also in him this self. or Cit. as if the universe were his or he. then. not in its deri- The vation from a questionable psychological analysis and an incompletely argued metaphysical doctrine. as Schopenhauer called it. Thus there falls away the theoretic foundation for the pessimism by which Schopenthat the hauer is best known. a pendulum " endlessly swinging. "between pain and ennui. human misery — is largely due to the clash of human wills..."* Schopenhauer's pessimism real strength of lies. 57.

" Loss loss of individuality are its essential charexplicitly (without the inconsistency) that it must be " freely willed. Schopenhauer's unpatriotic flight from Berlin in 1813.. To conclude that Schopenhauer's ethics is bare hypocrisy or conscious affectation would be to deal in superficial His conception of the good life as the life of sympathy is." Codrus. Sec.. cit. his ungenerous economies. %Farerga." It is only fair to add that he is no light-hearted spectator."! Schopenhauer himself summarizes his moral teaching.. Too self-seeking ' ' — * Op. Book Book II. Sec. what he calls a denial of the will to live " It is to disentire will-less-ness. IV. metaphysical theory.. here. Decius Mus. which he further describes asa" of desire and acters. in part. perfect ocean-stillness of the mind. he witnesses the tragedy of universal misery himself seated in a very comfortable fauteuil. by force of the sorry contrast."t These words. on its and he says seeming to notice "A more comprehensible positive side. in the sentence: happy life is impossible.. 172. his petty quarrels. He evidently has in mind a state. . Sec. irresistibly recall to the reader. sort of — — ' ' difficult. As Kuno Fischer says. 67. The feeling which does not overflow in action embitters all his life. like the splendid glorification of Leonidas and Regulus." Schopenhauer ex" so died Leonidas. Arnold claims. one of his swift intuitions. Regulus."* (2) In its highest form self-negation becomes.SCHOPENHAUER man will therefore 13 " sacrifice his own well-being and his " So died life for others. the highest summit which a can attain is man a heroic life. 68. for Schopena mystic hauer. But it is the chief tragedy of Schopenhauer's life that his ethics remains always vision or theory or quasi-esthetic estimate of life and never translates itself into action. f Op. cit. cover his meaning. in part the reasoned result alike of his keen observation and of his criticism. IV. so dies every man who consciously goes von Winkelried to certain death for his friends and his fatherland. equivalent to the Buddhist's Nirvana. his insatiate vanity.

the subject tears himself "free from the service of the will" and " " wholly loses himself in the object. The careful reader of Schopenhauer will neither deny the entire independence of his thought. but of III. my life. . 34. his view is not merely that of Kant.14 THE GERMAN CLASSICS ever to yield himself to an absorbing devotion. In terms of Schopenhauer's underlying doctrine. to say the rightly interprets Plato. is." The esthetic consciousness thus the phenomena of — is — to live furnishes a temporary escape alike from the insatiable will and from the rationalizing habit of the scientific consciousness. st the consolaacknowledging his debt to the Upanishads. In its central doctrine this differs less than Schopenhauer acknowledges from Kant's esthetic theory. he is yet always conscious of his need of other men.. idealistic point of • Obviously. But no one has ever set forth more persuasively or with is ampler illustration the truth that the esthetic consciousness an absorption of the subject in the beautiful object." and he calls Kant and Plato philosopher's self-satisfied — doubtful whether Schopenhauer it is certain that as he himesthetic experience is concerned not at least. as it were. Op.. is * law of sufficient reason. — own his masters. in a word no longer subordinated to "the mined. Book Sec. and has insisted with classes but with individuals. It is much to be regretted that Schopenhauer burdens his acute analysis and vivid account of the esthetic consciousness by the quite disparate conception of the " that beautiful object as what he calls a " Platonic Idea " of a whole class of as the permanent " form is." he says. and this object. nor yet agree with the estimate of its essential himself never tires of repeatedly Schopenhauer originality. rit. unlike science. — For self all it is. " of tion. as he does not fail to indicate. This very summarized account of Schopenhauer's teaching must dismiss also with briefest mention the richly significant esthetic theory of Part III of The World as Will and Idea. things. cut free from its not thought of as causally related or deterenvironment.

New York WULFF ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER . Co..Permission Berlin Photo.


Schopenhauer. his distinction between appearance and reality is made in Oriental philosophies. 97-108. hauer's writing of his eager study of natural science. is seemingly blind to the likeness of his teachings to those of his immediate contemporaries." and he has formulated it in his own way. and by Kant as well. He was. But Schopenhauer. . manifested in many shapes. as has been suggested.SCHOPENHAUER Hume 15 and Berkeley. by Plato. and his conception of the universe as a numerically one being. in the second place. like Fichte and Schelling. Ruyssen. Schopenhauer was strongly impressed by New Testament exhortations to pity and by certain church teachings notably by the doctrine of original sin. was perhaps suggested by Plato and certainly is the fundamental insight of Vedantic philosophy. He pursued these studies with ardor. He has. his melancholy outlook and the is subjectivistic side of his the influence on Schopenphilosophy. he has really combined Spinoza's substance with Kant's noumenal self. pp. none of unargued these conceptions is merely borrowed by Schopenhauer. not only in his university More important years but in his later reading. he shared with the opposition to — romantic school his subordination of reflection to intuition. Even so slight a study of the relation of Schopenhauer to predecessors and contemporaries would be incomplete without any reference to three other sources. perhaps insensibly influenced by the prevailing romanticism of the day. with the posmonistic doctrine. He does not see that. re-discovered each for himself. and he is far from suspecting that Hegel has gone further than he toward the attainment of this vaguely realized goal of the post-Kantian philosophers. at any rate. he has seen the truth " with his own eyes and not with those of another. his nature phiCf. not unlike other writers of his own day and of ours. though. The results of his wide and detailed study are everywhere apparent in his philosophy of nature.* With all his Judaism and to traditional Christianity. sible exception of the Yet. as it were.

he who seeks an epigrammatic and bitter expose of the weaknesses of who. finds its evolution of parallel in Schopenhauer's treatment of the — . will find himself impelled beyond Schopenhauer to Hegel. . according to Nietzsche. has little save his pessimism in common with Schopenhauer. is to all intents and purposes. derived alike from his pessimistic conception of society and from the Darwinian hypothesis of evolution through the survival of the fittest. Will to live. he certainly loses sight of his Schopenhauerian starting Far closer is the likeness of Bergson. more purely metaphysical There are two reasons for the comparative neglect of Schopenhauer nowadays. to Schopenhauer. Even Bergson 's account of time. To teaching Nietzsche such an ethical doctrine is an instance of the ' ' ' ' In its place he sets slave-morality. Thus. society has but to turn to Nietzsche to be sure. one with Schopenhauer's is essentially insight. on the other hand. for Bergson's elan vital. will in nature. the aggrandizement of the rich at the expense of the poor. is the goal of the superman moral life and in the development of this. The suppression of the weak by the strong. foremost of the point. pushed to its furthest limits. less concerned for entire consistency and for speculative completeness. The student in search of a thoroughly consistent system of post-Kantianism. his central thesis. and both are voluntarists. for of metaphysical groundwork he has none human — and in his ethics he diverges sharply from Schopenhauer's that virtue consists in pity and in sympathy.16 THE GERMAN CLASSICS is losophy imperfectly combined with the outcome of his thinking. the evolution after this fashion of a this. may find the essential teachings of Schopenhauer in more modern and therefore more alluring guise. The reader. so different from the Kantian conception which Schopenhauer adopted. figures on the modern philosophic stage. Both writers are intuitionists believing that philosophy not reasoning. that on-rushing life-current breaking up into individuals and species. despised Christian an ideal.

. is that form under which alone any idea of be. the consciousness.. London. and each of these. whatever kind is it may empirical. a hand that feels an earth that the world which surrounds him is there only as idea. is valid only for a particular class of ideas. Triibner 2 Vol. more independent in need of proof. though man alone can bring it into reflective and abstract consciousness. XV [17] — & Co. for it is possible the expression of the most general form of all and thinkable experience a form which is more — general than time. him that what he knows is not a sun and an earth. pure or No truth therefore of all others. HALDANE AND J. which we have seen to be just so many modes of the principle of sufficient reason. (1819) B. or causality. e.ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA* TRANSLATED BY R. whereas the antithesis of object and subject is the common form of all these classes. this : abstract or intuitive. he has attained to philoIt then becomes clear and certain to sophical wisdom. only in relation to something else. KEMP Book I — The World as Idea § 1 is [HE world this is a truth which holds good for everything that lives and knows. .. If any truth can be asserted a priori. i. and less that all that exists for knowl- more certain. but only an eye that sees a sun. If he my idea ' ' — really does this. Trench. is possible and thinkable. it is this. . Ltd. for they all presuppose it. which is himself. than Permission Kegan Paul. or space.

and yet it is a conception from which he can never free himself. service to philosophy. only so far as it is idea. but in correcting the popular notion of it. appearing indeed as the fundamental tenet of the Vedanta philosophy ascribed to Vyasa. It was implicitly involved in the sceptical reflections from which Descartes in Berkeley. and by this he has rendered a permanent started." These words adequately express the compatibility of empirical reality and transcendental ideality. and exists only for the The world is idea. The inward reluctance with which any one accepts the world as merely his idea. however. nevertheless one-sided. warns him that this view of it. The defectiveness of this view will be corrected in the next book by means of a truth which is not so immediately certain as that from wliich . and extended figure (to deny which would be lunacy).18 THE GERMAN CLASSICS edge. ing the existence of matter. was the first who distinctly enunciated it. for it is true of time and space themselves. vol. This truth is by no means new. — as well as of the present. then. subject. and therefore this whole world. even though the rest of his teaching should not endure. of his essays. is only object in relation to subject. p. is pointed out by Sir William Jones in the last where he says: " The fundamental tenet of the Vedanta school consisted not in denyResearches. idea. and in contending that it has no essence independent of mental perception that existence and perceptibility are convertible terms. that is. adopted in consequence of some arbitrary abstraction. How men recognized by the wise early again this truth was of India. iv. impenetra- bility. In this first book. of solidity. which alone these distinctions arise. we consider the world only from this side. perception of a perceiver in a word. This is obviously true of the past and the future. All that in any or can belong to the world is inevitably thus way belongs conditioned through the subject. however true it may be. as of what is near. Kant's primary mistake was the neglect of this principle. On the Philosophy of the Asiatics (Asiatic 164). is . of what is farthest off.

. That which knows all things and is known by none is the subject. For the body is an object among objects and is conditioned by the laws of objects. unity. and space. that condition of all phenomena. yet only he is an object of knowledge. does not come under these forms. which is neither of these two. but is presupposed by them it has therefore neither We never know it. but it is always the knower wherever there is knowledge. This truth. time. is that a " The world is say. which is always multiplicity. the knower. it lies within the universal forms of knowledge. which by itself constitutes the other aspect For as the world is in one aspect entirely of the world. we must consider separately that aspect of the world from which we start. not in so far as subject. although it is an immediate object. and call them merely ideas by so doing we always from will (as we hope to make clear to every one further on). my will. But his body is object. without reserve. which must be very serious and impres- — and must sive if not awful to every one. on the contrary.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA we start here 19 a truth at which we can arrive only by research and more severe abstraction. Every one finds himself to be in so far as he knows." man can also say In this first book. never the known. and therefore. which is always presupposed throughout experience. of all objects. is the phantom of a dream. merely as ideas. . multiplicity nor its opposite. so in another it is entirely A reality. for all that exists. Thus it is the supporter of the world. in the meantime. however. exists only for the subject. but an object in itself (into which the thing in itself has unfortunately dwindled in the hands of Kant). ivill. Like all objects of perception. by the sepadeeper ration of what is different and the union of what is identical. which are the conditions of The subject. regard all presented objects. . however. even our own bodies (as we shall presently show more fully). its aspect as knowable. and therefore from this point of view we call it idea. we must. abstract idea.

and it is a great one. constitutes the whole world as idea just as fully object. space. may be entirely traced to this their necessarv relation to each other. necessary. and inseparable halves. they lie a priori in our consciousness. then the whole world as idea would cease to be. The other half is the subject. rests onlv in it. I have further shown that the necessarv relation which the . These halves are therefore inseparable even for thought. as the existing millions could do. i. e. this is of such wide application that the whole existence of all objects. but if this one were to disappear. I however go beyond this. for each of the two has meaning and existence only through and for the other. without knowledge of the object. and nothing more. the forms of which are space and time. the only aspect in which we consider it at present. has two fundamental. and maintain that the principle of sufficient reason is the general expression for all these forms of the object of which we are a priori conscious. in every perSo that any one percipient being. is in fact merely relative. on the one side as determined. limitation is -shown by the fact that the essential and hence universal forms of all objects. that is. with the cipient being. entire. and that therefore all that we know purely a priori. be discovered and fully known from a consideration of the subject. That he discovered this is one of Kant's principal merits. for it is present. but of this. which is not in space and time. They limit each other immediately where the . and. ideas. is merely the content of that principle and what follows from it. more presently. The one half is the object. may.. time. The universality of this object begins the subject ends. and causality. In my essay on the principle of sufficient reason I have shown in detail how every possible object comes under it. each appears with the other and vanishes with it.20 THE GERMAN CLASSICS So then the world as idea. multiplicity. so far as they are objects. on the other side as determining. through these. and undivided. in it all our certain a priori knowledge is expressed. in Kantian language. stands in a necessary relation to other objects.

Eealism treats the object as cause. now as idealism. I take it for granted that what I said in this earlier essay is known and present to the reader. * * * needful to guard against the grave error of supthat because perception arises through the knowlposing edge of causality. It is this false supposition that has given rise to the foolish controversy about the a controversy in which dogreality of the outer world matism and skepticism oppose each other. as the universal nature of of every object — . For this relation subsists only between the immediate object and objects known indirectly. essay on the prinof sufficient reason accomplishes just this. appears in other forms corresponding to the classes into which objects are divided. and therefore skepticism attacked them both with success. and therefore cannot (as Hume thought) be derived from them. subject. neither of these views could be proved. and the former appears. the relation of subject and object is that It is of cause and effect. and therefore between these two there can be no first condition : relation of reason and consequent. as its — . now as realism. according to their possibility. for this principle is merely the form of all the whole nature and possibility of their existence objects. just as the law of causality precedes perception and experience as their condition. and hence the principle of sufficient reason in general. for it ciple My explains the content of that principle as the essential form that is to say.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 21 principle of sufficient reason expresses generally. and again that by these forms the proper division of the classes is tested. But the object always presupposes the as phenomena. so object and subject precede all knowledge. and the subject as its effect the idealism of Fichte reduces the object to the effect of the subject. Now. thus always between objects alone. Since however (and this cannot be too much emphasized) there is absolutely no relation according to the principle of sufficient reason between subject and object.

to the reality of the outer world rests upon this false exten- sion of the validity of the principle of sufficient reason to the subject also. idea. it can never understand itself. and is contradiction. that the true being of the object of perception is its action. as something which pertains to the object as such. it supposes. i. looking upon the idea as the effect of the object. second. for beyond this there is to be known. desires to separate these two. that object and idea are the same. and is throughout simply it what it appears to be. e. correction. and so remains its idea. idea and object. but the object as such always presupposes the subject as its necessary correlative and therefore the . first. is entirely real. which are really one. -and. that we always know . may indeed have been quite erroneously received as the cause. and that the knowledge of the nature of the effect of any perceived object exhausts such an object itself. which makes itself known as causation alone. that the reality of the thing consists in this. So far then. the perceived world time. for the law of causality is first to be gathered from experience. never the cause. its action. which makes the same false presupposition that in the idea we have only the effect. therefore never real being. On the one side realistic dog- matism. a thing which is quite inconceivable for even as object it presupposes subject. subject remains always outside the province in which the The controversy as principle of sufficient reason is valid. has absolutely so far as it is nothing more in space and object. and also for an essence of the actual thing different from no meaning. and the demand for an existence of the object outside the idea of the subject. independent of the subject.22 all THE GERMAN CLASSICS objective existence. Opposed to this doctrine is skepticism. starting with this mistake. and to assume a cause quite different from the idea. and appears wholly and without reserve .. merely the action of the object. and the reality of experience is then made Thus both of these views are open to the to rest upon it. an object in itself. may perhaps have no resemblance whatever to its effect. But this object.

the principle of sufficient reason appears in such a way that each of these has its worth. But it is not therefore illusion or mere appearance. nor yet with a something which is neither subject nor object. To dispute about its reality can occur only to a mind perverted by over-subtilty. and therefore wholly and forever determined by the subject. who explains its reality as its independ- nothing. and such discussion always arises from a false application of the principle of sufficient reason. but only the ground of the object an absurdity. whereas they can have nothing but a ground of being. and indeed as a series of ideas of which the reason. and apart from it is This. 23 bound together according to the law of causality. that is. a special confusion of its forms is also involved . it has transcendental ideality. The whole active world is determined as such through the understanding. idea. ence of the subject. is not the only reason for altogether denying such a reality of the outer world as is taught by the dogmatist. On the other hand. it presents itself as that which it is. however. that is to say. because no object apart from a subject can be conceived without contradiction. is its ality is empirical reality. and a ground of knowing is demanded of objects. for that form which it has only in reference to concepts or abstract ideas is applied to perceived ideas. If we examine more closely the source of this question as to the reality of the outer world.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA as idea. real objects. which binds all ideas together of whatever kind they may be. all causin the understanding alone. The whole world of objects is and remains idea. This ing. It is common bond is the principle of sufficient according to its inmost meaning quite comto the healthy understanding. but by no means connects them with the subject. for only objects can be and — always are the ground of objects. and for the understandactual. its validity. and speaks a prehensible language quite intelligible to it. the concepts united in the judgment. We also deny it. we find that besides the false application of the principle of sufficient reason generally to what lies beyond its province. and . Among the abstract ideas.

has appeared as the effect of a cause. its ground of knowledge. and therefore its thus far the question could be answered only by explaining meaning. for these are conprovince of for sense and open understanding. because — .and real objects! The assertion that what is dreamt is less vivid and distinct than what we actually perceive is not to the point. but of being.24 its THE GERMAN CLASSICS whole existence. every real object has paid its debt to it. the principle of sufficient reason appears not as the principle of the ground' of knowing. of the relation: of subject and the object. more exactly. is there a sure criterion of the distinction between dreams and reality. but belongs to quite another class of things. on the other hand. The demand for a ground of knowing has therefore here no application and no meaning. there is here neither error nor truth. though the question is always raised from a speculative point of view. here called truth. as the law of causality. There is. simply and solely through the relation of the judgment to something outside of it. After examination of the whole nature of the principle of sufficient reason. i. We have dreams may not our whole life be a dream? Or. one other possible origin of this question. Thus the world of perception raises in the observer no question or doubt so long as he remains in contact with it. and the special conditions of sense perception. e. quite different from the purely speculative one which we have considered. however. and in this form it has a much more comprehensible meaning than it had in the first. question itself disappeared because it had no longer any meaning. abstract lies — the But here the world — themselves according to the law of causality.. it arises from a confusion which amounts even to a misunderstanding of reason itself. So far as we have considered the question of the reality of the outer world. inasmuch as it has come to be. ideas of perception. to which there must consequently always be a return. presents itself with naive truth as that ideas of perception which develop which it really is fined to the province of the reflection. between phantasms . a specially empirical origin. Among real objects.

.dream and another. and dream and reality run together and become confounded. and much more so when it also happens that some undertaking or design fills all our thoughts and occupies our dreams as well as our waking moments. according to : the law of causality. however. constitutes the difference between real But in dreams. indeed. and in this connection is broken only between life and dreams.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA no one has- 25 ever been able to make a fair comparison of the two. there is noth. individually at any rate. throughout. We then observe the awaking just as little as the falling asleep. Kant answers. complete connection according to the principle of sufficient reason. an inquiry according to this criterion. life and dreams. it has not this connection." everything is connected. In such a case. For we are by no means to institute But in a position to trace link by link the causal connection between any experienced event and the present moment. or between one. although each of these has in itself the the former same connection the bridge is therefore broken between and the latter. as to whether something was dreamt or seen.the question thus " The connection of ideas among themselves. but we do not on that account explain it as dreamt therefore in real life we do not commonly employ that method of distinguishing between dreams and reality. in accordance with the principle of sufficient reason in all its forms. would always be difficult and often impossible. with the short dreams. guish them. distinctly and sensibly broken off. The only sure criterion by which to distinguish them is in fact the entirely empirical one of awaking. that we easily mistake dreams for reality if we have unintentionally fallen asleep without taking off our clothes. as well as in real life. Kant 's answer therefore could only run thus: The long dream (life) has. and on this account we distin. through which at any rate the causal connection between dreamed events and those of waking life is. This is strongly supported by the remark of Hobbes in the second chapter of Leviathan. for we can compare the recollection of a dream only with the present reality.

and Sophocles: : ^^ l 0pib yap 1 Tjp. perhaps may be allowed to express myself by a metaphor: Life and dreams are leaves of the same book. nihil aliud esse comperio quam simulacra et levem umbram. t — AJEX. as it has been recognized and spoken of by many great men. by means of this criterion.5. the philosopher alone strives to awake himself.) Beside which most worthily stands Shakespeare: " "We are such stuff As dreams Is are made of. Lastly.<. The systematic reading of this book is real life. as often happens. but when the reading hours (that is. the day) are over. 1 25. Pindar says (ii. little life Act iv. but if. (Nos enim. we fail to establish. [umbrae somnium homo). then it must for- ever remain uncertain whether an event was dreamt or really happened. in fact. but it does not . and they use none more frequently. Sc. Here. is ." — Tempest. 135) Svap avOputmx. After these numerous quotations from — the poets. i. and our rounded with a sleep. quicunque vivimus. jj TtXrjv EiSwA oonnzzp fiou^>r v fflCtdv.u£v. Calderon was so deeply impressed with this view of life that he sought to embody it in a kind of meta- physical I also drama Life a Dream. BOmetimea one that is new Such an isolated page to us. Plato often says that men live only in a dream. £d>. we often continue idly to turn over the leaves and read a page here and there often one we have read without method or connection — befon same book. oudkv ovra<i aXXo. but always in the indeed out of connection with the systematic study of the book. and we need not be ashamed to confess it. the intimate relationship between life and dreams is brought out very clearly. either the existence of causal connection with the present or the absence of such connection. which they call the web of Maya.26 THE GERMAN CLASSICS ing for it but the application of Kant's criterion. n. The Vedas and Puranas have no better simile than a dream for the whole knowledge of the actual world.

of which I am doubly conscious. it became involved in these confused and meaningless forms and problems. in the false application of the principle of reason to the relation of subject and object and second. in another aspect as will? The fuller explanation of this question and its answer in the affirmative will form the content of the second book. we consider the question from a point of view external to both. and we are forced to concede to the poets that life is a long dream. . Let us turn back now from this quite independent empirical origin of the question of the reality of the outer world. and its consequences will occupy the remaining portion of this work. This at least is my opinion. in the confusion of its forms. in one aspect as idea. which it failed to find. in itself. But the question could hardly have occupied philosophers so constantly if it were entirely devoid of all real content. province in which the principle of sufficient reason of being is valid. yet that very of experience belongs to real life as its form. first. inasmuch as the principle of sufficient reason of knowing was extended to a sufficient . and I think that the true expression of that inmost meaning of the question. there is no distinct difference in their nature. and the act this into consciousness. We found that this consisted.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 27 seem so very different when we remember that the whole continuous perusal begins and ends just as abruptly and may therefore be regarded as merely a larger single page. to its speculative origin. and if some true thought and meaning did not lie at its heart as its real source. Thus although individual dreams are distinguished from real life by the fact that they do not fit into that continuity which runs through the whole of experience. is this: What is this world of perception besides being my idea? Is that of which I am conscious only as idea exactly like my own body. continuity and the dream on its part can point to a similar continuity of awaking brings If. we must assume that when the element of truth that lies at the bottom of the question first came into reflection and sought its expression. Accordingly. therefore.

But he is himself rooted in that world. the starting-point for the understanding in the perception of that world. or the transition from the world as mere idea of the knowing subject to whatever it may be beside this. man who goes round a castle seeking in vain § for an entrance. B8 we have shown. We wish to know the and ask whether this world is would pass by us like an empty dream or a baseless vision. ciple of sufficient reason. what. that we cannot arrive at it from the idea under the guidance of the laws which merely combine objects. and sometimes sketching the facades.28 THE GERMAN CLASSICS Book * II — The Objectification of the § Will that 17 is. 18 which In fact. he finds himself in it as an individual. in which case it — . which is the necessary supportor of the whole world as idea. if so. What now impels us to inquiry we are not satisfied with knowing that we have ideas. not worth our notice. . However much we investi- Thus we gate. and that they are connected according to certain laws. We are like a we can never reach anything but images and names. that this something we seek for must be completely and in its whole nature different from the idea that the forms and laws of the idea must therefore be completely foreign to it further. something more than idea and. Thus much is certain. the general expression of which always is the principle of sufficient reason. is yet always given through the medium of a body. see already that we can never arrive at the real nature of things from without. or whether it is also something else. would never be found if the investigator himself were nothing more than the pure knowing subject (a winged cherub without a body). that is to say. among themselves. the meaning for which we seek of that world is present to us only as our idea. whose affections arc. ideas. that they are such and such. his knowledge. and which are the forms of the prinsignificance of these ideas merely idea. This body .

. and again in perception for the understanding. but they are given in two entirely different ways immediately. they are . an object among objects. or a character. e. 29 for the purely knowing subject as such. of his action. But all this is not the case the answer to call the . and would be just as strange and incomprehensible to him if their meaning were not explained for him in an entirely different way. rather given to the subject of knowledge who appears as an individual. which the bond of causality unites they do not stand in the relation of cause and effect. It will appear later that this is true of every movement of — . as an object among objects and subject to the laws of objects edge. passed into perception. a quality. but he would not understand the influence of the motives any more than the connection between every other effect which he sees and its cause. of his movements. Every true act of his will is also at once and without exception a movement of his body. It is given as an idea in intelligent perception. and the answer is will. as he pleased. Its movements and actions are so far known to him in precisely the same way as the changes of all other perceived objects. and is signified by the and it is word will. just as the changes of other objects follow upon causes stimuli. This and this alone gives him the key to his own existence. reveals to him the significance. . The action of the body is nothing but the act of the will objectified. He would then inner nature of these manifestations* and actions of his body which he did not understand a force. or motives. otherwise he would see his actions follow upon given motives with the constancy of a law of nature. an idea like every other idea. one and the same. also given in quite a different way as that which is immediately known to every one. given in two entirely different ways to the subject of knowl- who becomes an individual only through his identity with it. shows him the inner mechanism of the riddle is The body is his being.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA is. but he would have no further insight into it. The act of will and the movement of the body are not two different things objectively known. i.

Resolutions of the will which relate to the future are merely deliberations of the reason about what we shall will at a particular time. and it is through these alone that the body is an immediate object of knowledge. I called it the immediate object.. As such it is called when it is opposed to the will. i. every impression upon the body is also. not merely those which follow upon motives. to call and pleasure ideas. but also involuntary movements which follow upon mere stimuli. gratification or pleaspain ure when it is in accordance with it. In another respect. on the other hand. for then it is never more than an intention that may be changed. however. and that exists only in the reason in abstract o. to be treated directly as mere ideas. therefore. therefore. Only the carrying out of the resolve stamps it as will. I shall call the body the objectivity of will. as in the previous book. and excepted from what has been said. and in the essay on the principle of sufficient reason. will become idea. corresponding to this. and the body is the knowledge a posteriori of the will. It is quite wrong. There are only — a few impressions of the body which do not touch the will. pais but immediate affections of the will in its manifestation. immediate act of ^nll is also. genuine. not real acts of will. impressions arc. indeed. in accordance with the one-sided point of view intentionally adopted there (that of the idea). a visible act of till . instantaneous willing or not-willing of the impression which the body sustains. it La already an indirect object like all others. at once and immediately. e. Every true. that the whole body is nothing but All this will be objectified will. proved and made quite clear in the course of this work. at once and imme- diately an impression upon the will. and. the body. the body compulsory. for they are by no means ideas. It is onlv in reflection that to will and to act are different in reality they are one. as perceived by the understandThese ing. the degrees of both are widely different. and. for. The impres- . Thus in a certain sense we may also say that will is the knowledge a priori of the body.30 THE GERMAN CLASSICS the body.

among other ways. cannot really imagine this will apart the essay on the principle of sufficient reason. which is the form of the phenomenal aspect . not completely. But even of from my will. which is. the knowledge which I have of is though it immediate. and therefore in time. not as a unity. but there ensues a generally unhealthy and hypochondriacal disposition which is not distinctly understood. thus I my body. or rather the subject of willing. every emotion. that the pleasure. is treated. as of every object therefore the body is a condition of the knowledge . so that not only particular tones and strong light are painful to us. that is to say. and touch. itself further. This affection of them is so excessively weak an excitement of the heightened and specifically modified sensibility of these parts that it does not affect the will. that is to say. Weakness of the nerves shows impressions which have only such a degree of strength as would usually be sufficient to make them data for the understanding reach the higher degree at which they influence the will. but only furnishes the understanding with the data out of which the perception arises. not as a whole. cannot be separated from that which I have will. according to its nature. though more often pain. hearing. in the circumstance that every vehement and excessive movement of the will. to some extent deadened and inarticulate. In . my of my body. against the will. Lastly. I know my will.of my body. e. The iden- body and the will shows. give pain or itself in this.. however. i. but I know it only in its particular acts.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA sions 31 we refer to are the affections of the purely objective senses of sight. indeed. and thus they also belong to its objectivity. the will. But every stronger or different kind of affection of these organs of sense is painful. though only so far as these organs are affected in the way which is specially peculiar to their specific nature. agitates the body and its inner constitution directly. and disturbs tity of the the course of its vital -functions. undisturbed by any excitement of the will. as a special class of ideas or objects.

. therefore. which could no longer be properly opposed to the subject as object. We there called this is. but it is the relation . whose truth cannot therefore properly be brought under any of the four rubrics under which I have classified all truth in the essay on the principle of sufficient reason the logical. that cease to be an object. But then I am again at the first class of ideas laid down in i. and of all that happens in accordance with it from the law of motivation which governs the fourth class. On the other hand. we shall expect in vain to receive it again in some indirect way as derivative knowledge. like all these. — the metalogical for it is not. the metaphysical. real objects. As we proceed we shall see always more clearly that these ideas of the first class obtain their explanation and solution from those of the fourth class given in the essay. just because it is itself the most direct knowledge and if we do not apprehend it and stick to it as such. or to the necessary form of perceptive or of abstract ideation. the relation of an abstract idea to another idea. The identity of the will and the body. By proved raised from the immediate consciousness. It is knowledge of quite a special kind. and the whole of the present work is to a certain extent an explanation of this.32 there THE GERMAN CLASSICS we saw we saw it this object become one with the subject. and that. e. can be proved only in the manner we have adopted here. We have proved this identity for the first time. we must learn to understand the inner nature of the law of causality which is valid in the first class. of a judgment to the connection which an idea of percep- . that is. and shall do so more and more " we mean " fully in the course of this work.. or carried over into abstract knowledge. union the miracle #«*' tfojrfi'. and that essay. deduced as indirect knowledge from some other more direct knowledge. from its very nature it can never be demonstrated. from knowledge in the concrete to abstract knowledge of the reason. the empirical. So far as I know my will specially as object. I know it as body. of which we have now given a cursory explanation.

or. and that it is just this double knowledge which we have of our own body that affords us information about it. If. about what is it. for him. My body is the objectivity of my will. For regarded apart from this relation. I should like theresomething toto genere different fore to distinguish this from all other truth. XV — 3 . Therefore he is conscious of this one idea. w^hat it is in itself. only an idea like all other ideas. and this we denote by the word will. action. than idea that is to say. his body is. about its action and movement following on motives. so far as I am conscious of it in an entirely different way which cannot be compared to any other. but in quite a different way as a will. I call my will. is just on that account a relaing subject tion which subsists only between him and one particular idea of all those which he has. philosophical truth. tSoX 7jv. will are one. however. not merely as an idea. and call it ko. and also about what it experiences by means of external impressions in a word.t' — is not an idea at all. But the relation through which the knowis an individual. not as idea. But it has now become clear that what enables us consciously to distinguish our own body from all other objects which in other respects are precisely the same. like all the other objects of this world of perception. of this truth in different ways and say We can turn the expression My body and my : as an idea of perception I call my body. has to that which will. § 19 What book we were reluctantly driven to explain the human body as merely idea of the subject which knows it. but as more . he abstracts from It is just Vol. is that our In the first body appears in consciousness in quite another way toto genere different from idea. the 33 but body. None of this information have we got directly with regard to the nature. — and experience of other real objects. or.THE WOELD AS WILL AND IDEA tion. because of this special relation to one body that the knowing subject is an individual.

like it. like considered merely said in the First Book. then that one. is indeed demonstrably certain from the law of causality which is a priori valid for ideas. But whether the objects known to the individual only as ideas are yet. is. manifestations of a will.. that it alone of all objects is at once both will and idea. e. is. while the rest are else one object and its relation to all other he must assume that this one object is Thus he must assume that e. is of the subject. Therefore. and not to a similar cause. the body.34 THE GERMAN CLASSICS that special relation. the individual who knows must either assume that what distinguishes that one idea from others is merely the fact that his knowledge two ways stands in this double relation to it alone. we are still in the sphere of mere ideas. the proper meaning of the question as to the reality of the external world. in which alone the law of causality is valid and beyond which it can never take us. . For in it a man regards and this is theoretical egoism. but apart from the fact that we can only reason from an effect to a cause generally. and that this is to be explained not by the difference of this object from all others. as as ideas.. and which admits of no effect without a cause. is an idea like all other ideas. i. from that twofold and completelyheterogeneous knowledge of what is one and the same. That the other it. are like his body — thatobjects. but only by the difference between the relation of his knowledge to this Or objects. and also. the body only phenomenon of will and the only immediate object only ideas. only phantoms. To deny was which on that account regards all phenomena that are outside its own will as phantoms. are itself can causally active in space. like his own body. just as in a practical reference exactly the same thing is done by practical egoism. in order to understand the matter. the only real individual in the world. essentially different from all others. his i. fill space (which be present only as idea). that insight in at the same time is open to him only in the case of this one object of perception.

which to individuality is always polemical. they are idea. e. other persons as Theoretical egoism can never be demonall and strably refuted. in another aspect. brings with it the necessity that each of us can only be one. The double knowledge which each of us has of the nature and activity of his own body. are striving to extend the limits of our knowledge through philosophy. it could be found only in a madhouse. bound Thus our knowledge. what remains of make further us:e of it as a key every phenomenon in nature. as We an army would treat a small frontier fortress. which is always and is limited by this circumstance. but treat it as merely the last stronghold of skepticism. has now been clearly brought out. in one respect. The fortress cannot indeed be taken. while. For what other kind of existence or reality should we attribute to the rest of the material objects . just like our bodies. must in its inner nature be the same as that in us which we call will. but neither can the garrison ever sally forth from it. As a serious conviction. and therefore we pass it by without danger and are not afraid to have it in our rear. therefore combat it any further in this regard. according to the analogy of our own bodies. and it is need for philosophy. a pretense. for this very reason. and as such it stands We do not in need of a cure rather than a refutation.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA treats himself alone as a person. We shall accordingly to the nature of judge of all consequently not given to our consciousness in a double way but only as ideas. yet in philosophy it has certainly never been used otherwise than as a skeptical sophism. i. and in this respect are analogous to them. and which is given in two completely different ways. will treat this skeptical argument of theoretical egoism which meets this limitation that creates the us.. each of us can know all. and are when we set aside their existence as idea of the subject. so. and shall therefore assume that as. and shall objects which are not our own bodies. therefore who. on the other hand. on the other hand. 35 mere phantoms.

36 THE GERMAN CLASSICS Whence should we take the elements out of which construct such a world? world? we is Besides will and idea nothing If we wish to attribute the to us. knowledge what every one knows directly in concreto. yet is not known as a whole to the individual himself. a knowledge that his will is the real inner nature of his phenomenal being. * * * 21 all Whoever has now gained from in abstracto. we give it the reality which our own body has for each of us for that is the most real . his body. of — affords him the key to the knowledge of the inmost being of the whole of nature. . e. it beyond the fact that our its idea we find nothing in except the will. but makes itself known to him in a direct manner. with this Therefore we can nowhere find another kind of reality which we can attribute to the material world. like his own phenomenal existence. but only in its particular acts whoevor. that is. we must say that besides * * * it is that which we being idea. which manifests itself to him as idea. Thus if we hold that the material world is something more than merely our idea. has with me gained this conviction will find that of itself it and therefore clear and these expositions a certain. find immediately in ourselves as § will.. as feeling. i. both in direct and indirect knowledge. and that his will is that which is most immediate in his consciousness. but only in the latter. though it has not as such completely passed into the form of idea in which o"bject and subject stand over against each other. for he now transfers it to all those phenomena which are not given to him. in which he does not quite clearly distinguish subject and object. I say. both in his actions and in their permanent substratum. this But if we now analyze the reality of it is body and its actions. greatest known reality to the material world which exists known immediately only in our idea. thing for every one. thus merely oneHe will recognize this will of which sidedly as idea alone. in itself reality is exhausted. or thinkable.

I say. of every particular thing. As such. and also of the whole. all idea. but toto genere different from it. as we showed . It is this application of reflection alone that prevents us from remaining any longer at the phenomenon. not in the nature of what manifests itself. * * * But we have found that time and space are forms of the principle of sufficient reason. and. and which in its most distinct manifestation is called will. but. is phenomenal existence. lastly. We know that multiplicity in general In this principle all our knowledge a priori is expressed. and leads us to the thing in itself. of whatever kind it may be. the kernel. decomposition and combination. all object. but the course of reflection will lead to recognize the force which germinates and vegetates in the plant. he will recognize as different only in their phenomenal existence. in men and animals as him their inmost nature. is appears in every blind force of nature and also in the preconsidered action of man. Phenomenal existence is idea and nothing more.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA we 37 are speaking not only in those phenomenal existences which exactly resemble his own. but in their inner nature as identical as that which is directly known to him so intimately and so much better than anything else. the force which appears in the elective affinities of matter as repulsion and attraction. that by which the magnet turns to the North Pole. the force through which the crystal is formed. and is only thinkable in them. all object. and the great difference between these two is merely in the degree of the manifestation. the obj edification. All idea. draAvs the stone to the earth and the earth to the sun all these. even gravitation which acts so powerfully throughout matter. the force whose shock he experiences from the contact of two different kinds of metals. it is throughout not idea. It is the inmost nature. it is that of — which the phenomenal appearance. It § 25 is necessarily conditioned by space and time. the visibility. but the will alone is a thing in itself.

It is not the case that. but as something to which the condition of the possibility of mul- The the principium individuation is. We consideration of these grades of visibility which belong to the objectification of the will. In other words. all The thing-in-itself is. in some way or other.. as I believe I have fully and convincingly proved it to be. the loudest shall return later to the sound and the faintest echo. But as the grades of its objectification do not directly conthe will itself. which remains indivisible notwithstanding it. does not affect the will tiplicity. it is only our form of knowledge. regarded as such and apart from its manifestation. is foreign. now. applies only to the knowableness of things. and therefore knows no multiplicity. phenomenon of will. its visibility. free from forms of knowledge. then.38 THE GERMAN CLASSICS above. to the reflection of its nature. an individual or a concept is one. If. not to the things themselves. this thing-in-itself is the will. it lies outside time and space. has grades as innumerable as exist between the dimmest twilight and the brightest sunshine. indeed. i. this a priori knowledge. as such. for the relation of part and whole belongs exclusively to space and has no longer any meaning when we go beyond this form of perception. that of being an object for the subject. Of this there is a higher grade in the plant than in the stone. e. that is. i. a smaller part of will is in the stone and a larger part in the man. as such. still less is it concerned by the multicern plicity of the phenomena of these different grades. e. sense in which. and is conYet. which collectively multiplicity constitute the objectification of will. tho multitude of individuals of each form. it is not a property of the thing-in-itself. it is not one in the sequently one. or the particular . as I have said. The more and the less have application only to the its objectification. of things in space and time. its objectification. the passage of will into visibility.. even the most universal. in the animal a higher grade than in the plant. the thingin-itself is something altogether different from the idea. itself.

sion belongs only to its manifestation. cant. all this is very of the mind of this man who — me. and then they have seized the opportunity to make edifying remarks. and so forth. ness of the universe. They have referred perhaps the earth. individuals who know necessarily perish with Silesius feels this " I it. the most important point is this manifestation is the world (whatever else it may be) whose cannot have its true self spread out and dispersed after this fashion in boundless space. and indeed of man. Now. Therefore we standing still beside any single individual by thing. on the contrary." Men have tried in various ways to bring the immeasurable greatness of the material universe nearer to the comprehension of us all. into which the will The will reveals itself as completely itself never enters. but to — The thing-in-itself. Their number and as much in one oak as in millions. but only of these individuals itself belongs not to We may therefore say that if. they have pointed out the greatness the mind is so insignificant and even measure the greatthat can solve. when I consider the vastness of the world. the whole world would regard to it. and time has no meaning with and multiplication in space but only with regard to the multiplicity of in space and time. is present object of nature lose nothing and in every living being. even the most insignifiimpossibile. that the thing-in-itself. directly conditioned by time and space. The great mystic Angelus when he says live — know God cannot give an instant without if I me . per to its manifestation. comprehend. were to be entirely annihilated. to the relative smallness of or. and who are themThe multiplicity selves multiplied and dispersed in these. the will.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 39 For this multiplicity is manifestations of each force. and true wisdom is not to be gained by measuring . He must up the ghost should cease to be. a single real existence. entire and undivided in every on the contrary. but that this endless extenwell.

then. It is rather to be attained by the thorough investigation of any individual thing. The shortest and most concise statement of this famous Platonic doctrine is " '0 nXdrwv iriven us by Diogenes Laertes (iii. for thus wT e seek to arrive at a full knowledge and understanding of its true and peculiar nature. 12) fam.oi>TTtoTa. subject to no change. and therefore has no These grades are related to individual things multiplicity. I understand every definite and fixed grade of the objectification of will.40 THE GERMAN CLASSICS out the boundless world. In my writings. is. KaOdrzep napadeiyfiara^ tovtuiv uiimwfLaza ka. always become and never are that these grades of the objectification of will — I make this passing referare. w hich Kant has inaptly and illegitimately used this word to denote. that these different grades of the objectification of will which are manifested in innumerable individuals and exist as their unattained types or as the eternal forms of things. the original word Idea in this sense. 3 aXXa raorat^ imhiva 1 y ideas in natura velut exhis emplaria dixit subsistere.'n —Plato to. as their eternal forms or prototypes. ad . I say. esse similia. The subject which will therefore be fully considered in the next book. while the particular things arise and pass away. By Idea. thereword is always to be understood in its true and meaning given to it by Plato. which are the medium of individual things. and has absolutely r no reference to those abstract productions of dogmatizing scholastic reason. so far as it is thing-in-itself. doubtless. but remaining fixed. never becoming. or. not entering themselves into time and space. simply Plato 's Ideas. what would be more to the purpose. iv rrj : (fa'tutt r<i? idia? iffrdvUt. already presented itself to the mind of every student of Plato. by actually traversing endless space. always being. ence to the matter here in order that I may be able in future to use the fore. and which has. cetera istarum siniilihidinem consist entia. though Plato had already appropriated and used it most fitly.

that. but it has retained the first and most universal form. — all first others. in spite of the inner agreement between Kant and Plato. Idea and thing-in-itself are not entirely one and the same. for between it and the thing-in-itself stands as individual. it is e.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA Book III 41 — The Platonic Idea: the Object of Art § 32 from our consideration of the subject. which would have saved him from a great inconsistency that was soon discovered. the of all idea. something known. which are subordinate to this (whose general expression the principle of sufficient reason) that multiply the Idea in particular transitory individuals. not yet become idea. objectivity of the thing-in-itself. itself the will For the thing-in-itself objectified. i. an idea. The Idea is for us rather the direct. and it is merely an error on his part that he did not count among these forms. even according to Kant. the form of being object for a subject. is necessarily object. he should therefore have distinctly denied objective existence to his thing-in-itself. must. and the identity of the aim they had before them or the conception of the world which roused them and led them to philosophize.. before which is. and in that respect is different from the thing-in-itself. on the other hand. all of which we include in the principle of sufficient reason. . whose number is a matter of complete indifference to the Idea. for and most universal form of all phenomena. or rather it has not yet assumed them. be free from all the forms connected with knowing as such. The Platonic Idea. but in that respect only. that of the idea in genIt is the forms eral. that of being object for a subject. It has merely laid aside the subordinate forms of the phenomenon. and therefore adequate. It follows the will as not yet however. The principle of sufficient reason is thus again the form into which the Idea enters when it appears in the knowledge of the subject is The particular thing that manifests itself in accordance with the principle of sufficient reason is thus only an indirect objectification of the thing-in-itself (which is the will). for us.

and thus is an object among objects.42 THE GERMAN CLASSICS the Idea as the only direct objectivity of the will. in strict But accuracy. from the affections of which they proceed. Therefore Plato says time is the — moving picture of eternity : alSwt tlkb* § k'.^rij 6 xptvot. only under the form of the idea. and consequently eternal. nor change. indeed it is the whole thing-in-itself.. it is absolutclv necessary that we should learn to distinguish the will a? thing-in-itself from its adequate objectivity.. and which is itself only concrete willing. and therefore brings in. nor events. time. as knowing subjects. although. objectivity of the will. but would comprehend only Ideas only the grades of the objectification of that one will. because it has assumed none of the special forms of knowledge as such. and here lies the ground of the great agreement between Plato and Kant. and consequently already presupposes. our perceptions come to us through the medium of a body. sions from an impossible presupposition. e. through the forms of the principle of sufficient reason. we are also individuals. which are outside time. we would. that of which they speak is not the same. i. e. but which are conditions of the knowledge which belongs to If it is allowable to draw concluthe individual as such. Therefore it alone is the most adequate objectivity of the will or thing-in-itself which is possible. if it were not that. 35 In order to gain a deeper insight into the nature of the world. for in them it is obscured by those forms whose general expression is the principle of sufficient reason. and also the different grades in which this . of the thing-in-itself. i. Time is only the broken and piecemeal view which the individual being has of the Ideas. except that of the idea in general. nor multiplicity. in pure unclouded knowledge. in fact. Consequently our world would be a nunc stans. and as such comes into the knowing consciousness in the only way in which an object can. the form of being object for a subject. the particular things are no really adequate objectivity of the will. no longer know particular things.

and What appears in the clouds. but indifferent to them. transparent — fluid — this is its nature. is its Idea. the Idea. formless. the eddies. the Ideas themselves.. e. those accidental forms are only for us so long as individuals. The ice on the window-pane forms itself into crystals according to the laws of crystallization. this. more fully still in the beast. one side after Then we shall also distinguish the Idea itself another. their actual forms are onlv for the individual observer. When the clouds move. and behaves as inelastic. perfectly mobile. but that it follows the attraction of gravity. from the merely phenomenal existence of these Ideas in the forms of the principle of sufficient reason. and also from the greatest. but the trees and as we know it traces on the pane are unessential. and the crystal is the weakest echo of that will which brook. Then we shall understand how one and the same Idea reveals itself in so many phenomena. if known through perception. which reveal the essence of the force of nature that appears here. and recognize the former as Let us consider essential and the latter as unessential.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 43 appears more and more distinctly and fully. on the . dream-like existence to things in space and time. exhibit the Idea. To the brook that flows over stones. drifted along. spread out. the waves. the essence by the force of the wind of the forces which objectify themselves in them. and presents its nature only bit by bit to the individual. the foam-flakes which it forms are indifferent and unessential. this with the help of examples taken from the most insignificant things. and allows only an illusive. flowers which appears more fully in the plant. i. or torn asunder this is their nature. But onlv the essential in all these grades of its objectification constitutes the Idea. and most fullv in man. from the way in which its manifestation appears in the observation of the individual. then agree with Plato when he attributes actual being only restricted method We to the Ideas. the are only there for us. the real world for the individual. but that as elastic vapor they are pressed together. the figures which they form are not essential. the shall of knowledge of the individual.

this. or indeed that it itself as a whole has beginning and end. with Ossian. as we have said. the multifarious forms of human life in different all this is only the accidental form lands and countries — of the manifestation of the Idea. but only to the phenomenon which appears in the Idea knowledge of the individual. lies merely in the kind of knowledge that belongs and has reality only for this. the form of its eddies and foam-flakes to the brook. both have just as much moaning as regards the Idea which appears in them. or its trees and flowers to the ice. and between the tinguish Idea and its manifestation. the events of the world will have significance only so far as they are the letters out of which we may read the Idea of man. plan and development. whose life is a brief thirty Therefore he will just as little. unessential. in which alone lies the adequate objectivity of the will. the throng of events. the change of times. In the manifold forms of human life and in the unceasing change of events. and in some way has for its final or in it. with Homer. its unfolding or development. aim the highest perfection (according to their conception) of the last generation of man. the history of the human race. because broken up in the forms of the principle of sufficient reason into a multiplicity of many-sided phenomena. does not belong to the itself. he will take the forms of the clouds for individual beings. is unessential to the to the individual Idea. as.44 THE GERMAN CLASSICS other hand. To him who has thoroughly grasped something absolutely real may attain to existence. people years. for. Therefore. a whole Olympus with gods to guide the events of time. that through it. and is just as foreign. The same thing necessarily holds good of the unfolding of that Idea which is the completest objectivity of will. he will regard the Idea only as the abid- . but not in and for themselves. He will not believe with the vulgar that time may produce something actually new and significant. and can disbetween the will and the Idea. and indifferent to the Idea itself as the figures which they assume are to the clouds.

Leipzig Max Kixnger FATE .Permission Li. A. Seemann.


capacities. but which the blindest chance. either misled by error or passion. lastly. slyness. the errors and the excellences of the human race. hindered at the outset. the passions. Suppose we were allowed for once a clearer glance into the kingdom of the possible. that chance destroyed before they were ripe for their work. continually create the history of the great and the little world in which it is all the same all whether they are set in motion by nuts or by crowns. hatred. and with a like fate the motives and incidents are certainly different in each piece. that would have enriched whole ages of the world. stupidity.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA ing and essential. Tartaglia no more conscientious. — and so forth of which. in self-interest. The source from which earth-spirit would smile and say the individuals and their powers proceed is inexhaustible . therefore. wit. he will find that in the world it is the same as in the dramas of Gozzi. genius. bold- and which shows its different sides in the ness. we would shudder and lament ' ' : at the thought of the But the lost treasures of whole periods of the world. in which the will to live has 45 its fullest objectivity. and. but the spirit of the incidents is the same the actors in one piece . they squandered uselessly on unworthy or unfruitful objects. if we saw all this. then the great events that would have changed the history of the world and brought in periods of the highest culture and enlightenment. although they performed in it themselves. suppose the earth-spirit appeared and showed us in a picture all the greatest men. with like intention. but which. or even wasted in play. or compelled by necessity. and Columbine no more modest. frivolity. the splendid powers of great men. and heroes. in all of which the same persons appear. Pantaloon has become no more agile or know nothing generous. crowding together and combining in thousands of forms (individuals). Brighella no more courageous. of the incidents of another. . the most insignificant accident. fear. enlighteners of the world. love. Finally. after all experience of former pieces. and over the whole chain of causes and effects.

mathematics treats of the space. of what is permanent in them. Art. which comprehend what is general in order that we may deduce from it what is particular. a law that determines the self-manifesting will wherever it is enlightened by knowledge. that which is subject to no change. science. in the form of morphology. the true content of its phenomena. cerned with that which is outside and independent of all relations. Its self-knowledge and * * " * is the event in-itself. The will alone is. therefore an undiminished eternity is always open for the return of any event or work that was nipped in the bud. At the lowest grades of its objectivity. like these forms of * * No all phenomena. This almost endless task is lightened by the aid of concepts. appear for the knowledge of the subject All these. for. its laws.46 THE GERMAN CLASSICS and unending as time and space. the eternal Id<-as grasped through pure contemplation. and. of which the common name is as individual. the essential and abiding in all the phenomena of the world. treats of the laws of the changes of its phenomena. which are the direct and — We adequate objectivity of the thing-in-itself. connections. where it still acts without knowledge. and the relations which But what kind of knowledge is conresult from them. It repeats or reproduces answer. the Ideas. time and Lastly. broken up into multiplicity. the will? the work of genius. proceed according to the principle of sufficient reason in its different forms. In this world of phenomena true loss is just as little possible as true gain. natural science. . and therefore is known with equal truth for all time in a word. and the source of all these phenomena. in which the Ideas. that which alone is really essential to the world. in the form of etiology. or denial its assertion only § 36 . and their theme is always the phenomenon. mere forms. History follows the thread of events it is pragmatic so far as it deduces them in accordance with the law of motivation. it is the thing-in-itself. they also are only phenomena finite measure can exhaust that infinite source.

quietly affected . therefore. the rela- tions vanish for it . that rushes along withand without aim. any more than by running we can reach the place where the clouds touch the horizon.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA and according it 47 is in which it reproIts or painting. only the essential. on the whole. sculpture its one aim the comone source is the knowledge of Ideas munication of this knowledge. becomes to art the representative of the whole. And this particular thing. and has it isolated before it. the second is like the sunbeam. the second is. never rest for an instant the second is like the rainbow. is its object. We may. for it plucks the object of its contemplation out of the stream of the world's course. on the contrary. and it alone is valid and of use in practical life and in science. duces. the Idea. in opposition to the way of viewing them which proceeds in accordance with that principle. with each end attained sees further but can never reach a final goal nor attain full satisfaction. The method which looks away the content of this principle is that of genius. While science. poetry or music. which in that stream was a small perishing part. is everywhere at its goal. that pierces through the storm quite unby it. art. . an equivalent of the endIt therefore pauses at less multitude in space and time. and the former to a vertical line which cuts it at any point. agitating. of reason and consequent. of Aristotle. accurately define it as the way of viewing things independent of the principle of sufficient reason. which from The first is the method is valid and of use only in art. that of Plato. following the unresting and inconstant stream of the fourfold forms to what the material is . Viewing things which proceed in accordance with the principle of sufficient reason is the rational plan. The first is like the innumerable showering drops of the waterfall. sidering things may be compared to a line infinitely extended in a horizontal direction. the course of time stops. and which is the method This last method of conof experience and of science. constantly changing. bending. the mighty storm. and out beginning The first is like carrying away everything before silent it. which. this particular thing.

and " to fix in lasting thoughts the wavering images that float before the mind. Only through the pure contemplation described above. while the common mortal. wishes. and of enlisting in this service the knowledge which originally existed only for the service of the will. and thus of entirely renouncing one 's own personality for a time. that unceasing desire for new things and for the contemplation of lofty things.48 THE GERMAN CLASSICS resting on this raging torrent. when genius appears in an individual." It is as if. as this requires that a man should entirely forget himself and the relations in which he stands. as opposed to the subjective. finding everywhere his like. amounting even to disquietude. so as to remain pure knowing subject. ends in it. entirely filled and satisfied by the common present. enjoys that peculiar satisfaction in daily life that is denied to genius. and this superfluity of knowledge. being free. clear vision of the world and this not merely at moments. and. to the will. which is directed to one's own self in other words. and aims entirely out of sight. e. i. and also that longing that is hardly ever satisfied. This explains the activity. Thus genius is — is the faculty of continuing in the state of pure perception. now becomes subject purified from will. This gives them that restless aspiration. genius is the power of leaving one's own interests. which ends entirely in the object. the objective tendency of the mind. because it does not fill their consciousness. of men of genius. of losing oneself in perception. that is to say. can Ideas be comprehended. and the nature of genius consists in preeminent capacity for such contemplation. Now. . for the present can seldom satisfy them. a clear mirror of the inner nature of the world.. for men of similar nature and of like stature to whom they might communicate themselves. a far larger measure of the power of knowledge falls to his lot than is necessary for the service of an individual will. genius simply complete objectivity. but — for a sufficient length of time and with sufficient consciousness to enable one to reproduce by deliberate art what has thus been apprehended.

through every meal we eat. in this way we fight with it every moment. on account of their unlimited nature. in the same way. every time we warm ourselves. apart into the formal side. he has always a merely relative. He is where of . But if we look at it from the physical side also. as our walking only its is admittedly merely a constantly prevented falling. Thus his existence. the of our body is only a constantly prevented dying. a constant dying. from its possible consequences for the and the testimony regarding the will that is expresent pressed in it. therefore. We pursue our life. is now entirely done with. it must be. for we became subject to him also. and. however. is a constant hurrying of the present dead past. and no longer anything. finally. even when we consider his past life. the will appears as an individual. end death must conquer. whose unchecked flight into the past For is a constant transition into death. the activity of our mind is a constantly deferred ennui. a constant dying. . never absolute when and his existence for his place and duration are finite His real existence of what is infinite and boundless. every In the sleep we take. although Vol. indifferent to him whether the content of that past was pain or pleasure. etc. The human individual finds himself as finite in infinite space and time. as a vanishing quantity compared with them. and he only plays for a little while with his prey before he swallows it. dead. as life longer intervals. as we blow out a soap-bubble as long and as large as possible.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA Book IV 49 — The Assertion and Denial of the Will § 57 that is enlightened by knowledge. the future is quite uncertain and always short. an ever-postponed death. Every breath we draw wards off the death that is constantly intruding upon us. as a matter of reason. But the present is always passing through his hands into the past. it is clear that. and consequently At every grade projected into them. XV 4 — we know perfectly well that it will burst. at through birth. with great interest and much solicitude as long as possible. parts is only in the present. and.

for the nature of brutes and man is subject to pain originally and through its very being. for the maintenance of that existence under exacting demands. . that of the propagation of the species. he is. as a rule. This has also been compelled to express — very oddly in this way: after man had transferred all pain and torments to hell. uncertain about everything Consequently the care except his own need and misery. a i. and this appears to us much more distinctly when we consider the nature of brutes and man. which may be very well compared to an unquenchable thirst.50 THE GERMAN CLASSICS We saw that the inner being of unconscious nature is a constant striving without end and without rest. and thus pain. But the constant striving which constitutes the inner nature of every manifestation of will obtains its primary and most general foundation at the higher grades of objectification. With cautious steps and casting anxious . concrete willing and needing. is consequently also the most necessitous of all beings. from which it requires constant watchfulness to escape. If. but the basis of all willing is need. the whole of human life. which are renewed every day. deficiency. on the other hand. Man. as the most complete objectification of that will. from the fact that here the will manifests itself as a living body. terrible void and ennui comes over it e.. its being and existence itself becomes an unbearable burden to it. To this is directly related the At second claim. occupies. with the iron command to nourish it. left to himself. he is threatened from all sides by the most the same time varied of dangers. he is a concretion of a thousand necessities with these he stands upon the earth. there then remained nothing over for heaven but ennui. Willing and striving is its whole being. thus its life swings a pendulum backward and forward between pain and ennui. through and through. and itself what gives strength to this command is the fact that this body is nothing but the objectified will to live itself. it lacks objects of desire because it is at once deprived of them by a too easy satisfaction.

inevitable. thus he goes in civilized is no security for him. e. by dint of all his efforts and skill he succeeds in getting through. on the other hand. when they have dens become a burden to are secure from want thrown off all other burthemselves. thus the as soon as the effort to get free from the burden of existence. with the certainty of losing it at But what enables them to endure this wearisome much the love of life as the fear of death. time. Now it is well worth observing that. for a thousand accidents and a thousand enemies lie in wait for him. quantisque periclis " Lucr. full of rocks and whirlpools.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 51 glances round him he pursues his path. which man avoids with the greatest care and solicitude. is second thing that sets them in motion ingly we see that almost all and care. he yet by doing so comes nearer at every step to the greatest. The striving after existence is what occupies all living things and maintains them in motion. and worse for him than all the rocks from which he has escaped. life for this existence battle is not so of the great majority is only a constant struggle itself. and again. even steers right upon it this is the final goal of the laborious voyage. and irremediable shipwreck. the total. then they know not what to do with it." i. is at want and suffering permit rest to a man.. quodeunque est ! — ii. Life itself is a sea. to escape from ennui. Degitur hocc' aevi. ennui once so near that he necessarily requires diversion. the suffering and misery of life may easily increase to such an extent that death itself. — life. But when existence is assured. in the flight from which the whole of life consists. and may come upon them at any moment. and we hasten toward it voluntarily. that — . " Qualibus in tenebris vitas. on the one hand. The last. which yet stands in the background as inevitable. although he knows that even if. 15. becomes desirable. Thus there he went while yet a savage. and regard as a gain at last men who . to make it cease to be " to kill Accordfelt. death nay.

and want by the six week days. even from motives of policy. the need. then follow desolateness. That wish and satisfaction should follow each other neither too quickly nor too slowly. the pleasure of the beautiful. when it does not do so. and constitutes the happiest life. pain the attainment . and to these . that is. extreme. against which the conflict is just as painful as against want. in middle-class life it is represented by the Sunday. public precautions are everywhere taken against it. they have employed all their powers to maintain as long as possible. few only as a passing And then even these few. between desiring and attaining. its purest joys. As want is the constant scourge of the people. Thus. so ennui is that of the — fashionable world. presents itself under a new form. and the wish. famine The strict penitentiary system of Philadelphia makes use of ennui alone as a means of punishment. which is foreign to all willing. For we might otherwise call the most beautiful part of life. seek one another eagerly. possession takes away the charm. Moreover. Ennui is by no means an evil to be lightly esteemed. and thus it becomes the source of social intercourse. for the end was only apparent. pure knowledge.52 THE GERMAN CLASSICS every hour they succeed in getting through. all human life flows on. ennui. till then. For this evil may drive men to the greatest excesses. as against other universal calamities. reduces the suffering which both occasion to the that which smallest amount. in its nature. on account of their talents. because it — demands rare dream. soon begets satiety. just as much as its opposite the people require panem et ci) censes. It makes beings who love each other so little as men do. and it is found so terrible that it has even led prisoners to commit suicide. the true delight in art this is granted to only a very few. through solitary confinement and idleness. if it were only because it lifts us out of real existence and transforms us into disinterested spectators of it. for in the end it depicts on the countenance real despair. emptiness. and thus every diminution of the very life which. The wish is.

for most persons . therefore. The ceaseless efforts to banish suffering accomplish no more than to make it change again: — Jovis quidem And Z^o?/*^ Kaisya Kpov(ovv$ f abrap dxzbv its form. films eram Saturnii. rare animal. intellectual pleasures are not accessible. tdcbv efc oupavdv evpuv. in removing pain in this form. verum aerumnam hdbebam infinitam. to affect the place since it does not affect them. even if it is only through a distant to it.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 53 higher intellectual power. it must (as is implied in the meaning of the word) in some . quite peculiarly the very expression of the miser- able side of humanity. are quite incapable of the joys which lie in pure knowledge they are entirely given up to willing. anything is to win their sympathy. it immediately assumes a . may find in trifles and occurrences the naive expressions of this quality. are made susceptible of far greater suffering than duller minds can ever feel. tease it. which is very difficult. also. and are also placed in lonely isolation by a nature which is obviously different from that of others thus here. when they see a strange. for example. intuitus in ever a 1 — caelum latum. play with it. elyov ir. they cannot easily confine themselves to merely observing it they must rouse it. for their existence action and reaclies far more in willing than in knowing and merely problematical relation — tion being their one element. at any prominent place they may visit. care for the maintenance of life. everyday Thus.tipcaifjv. the will must not be left altogether out of the question. accounts But to the great majority of men purely are squared. merely to experience action and reaction. the pain which is essential to life cannot be thrown off: ilyteidrj? s $tia»£sv. . We they write their names. But whatever nature and fortune may have done. way excite their will. whoman be and whatever he may possess. want. If. to be interesting to them. Pelides autem ejulavit. it is essentially deficiency. in order thus to react. If we succeed. but this need for excitement of the will manifests itself very specially in which is the discovery and support of card-playing. Again.

so that we find ourselves in just the same position as we occupied before All that is even directly this sorrow or desire appeared. indeed. nor do we prize them. The satisfacgiven us is merely the want. for they gratify the . however. e. covetousness. tion and the pleasure we can know only indirectly through remembrance of the preceding suffering and want. open sorrow. for such is not only every actual. of itself. the pain. ambition. but must always be the satisfaction of a wish. but we think of them merely as a matter of course. and. i.. sickness. we shall hardly do so without letting pain reenter in one of its earlier forms. etc. But when finally everything is overcome and attained. for the wish. difficulties and troubles with- out end are opposed to every purpose. i. for all human life is 58 is commonly called happiness. etc. or what cedes every pleasure. It is.. but with the satisfaction the wish and therefore the pleasure cease. Thus the satisfaction or the pleasing can never be more than the deliverance from a pain. is the condition which preis All satisfaction.54 THE GERMAN CLASSICS thousand others. but every desire. and never always really It is not an original gratification coming to us positive. last it can find entrance in no other form. we are not properly conscious of the blessings and advantages we actually possess. and at every step hind ranees accumulate. the deadening ennui also that makes life a burden to us. jealousy. e. passionate love. the importunity of which disturbs our peace. from a want. against which we then strive in various ways. § ########## from the beginning. hard to attain or achieve anything.. If finally we succeed in driving this away. it comes in the sad gray garments of tediousness and ennui. Hence it arises that which cease with their appearance. such as lust. and essentially only negative. If at anxiety. nothing can ever be gained but deliverance from some sorrow or desire. some want. varying according to age and circumstances. hatred. envy. and allowing the dance to begin again tossed backward and forward between pain and ennui.

want. as soon as this is reached. an effort. remembrance of past need. and ennui in art. it cannot be the subject of art. or this finds by languor. yet. lies very near the source of real. etc." est Yet we shall see further on that this kind of pleasure. in this respect. it cannot be denied that the from the view-point of egoism. and is only means of enjoying the And. the sight or the description of the sufferings of others affords us satisfaction and pleasure in precisely the way Lucretius beautifully and frankly expresses it in the beginning of the Second Book the T — " E Suave.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA us only negatively by restraining suffering. that true mirror of the world and life. mari magno. because this furnishes present blessings. is the positive. but never enduring and complete happiness itself. nature. quia cemere suave est. and that after its attainment he was no better off than before. quibus ipse malis careas. but merely delivers us from some pain or want which must be followed either by a new pain. through cognition of our own well-being obtained in this way. but one also sees . terra rftagnurn alterius spectare laborem : Non. manThus also we are pleased by the ifesting itself directly. the sorrow. for the want. Every epic and dramatic poem can represent only a struggle. empty longing. Because a genuine enduring happiness is not possible. and support — especially in poetry. That all happiness is only of a negative. turbantibus aequora ventis. which form of the w ill to live. It conducts its heroes through a thousand difficulties and dangers to the goal. that just on this account it cannot furnish lasting satisfaction and gratification. further. Certainly the aim of the idyl is the description of such a happiness. not a positive.. the privation. recollection sickness. for then there remains nothing for it to do but to show that the glittering goal in which the hero expected to find happiness had only disappointed him. quia vexari quemquam jucunda voluptas'. 55 Only when we have lost them do we become sensible of their value. it hastens to let the curtain fall. a fight for happiness. Sed. positive wickedness.

— — apart from will. made up of trifling this is the sorrows. the powerful will. the only pure happiness. it is Guna). The poet always finds that it either becomes epical in his hands. All that we intend and to bring out clearly siderations reflections through — the impossibility of attaining these con- ness lasting satisfaction and the negative nature of all happifinds its explanation in what is shown at the con- — clusion of the Second life. the strong passions (RadschaIt appears in great historical characters. would be only a wearisome and unmeaning monotony corresponding to ennui. We may phenomena. is the objectification. for which certainly. yet this happiness cannot fill the whole life. What we see in poetry we find again in music. as a matter of fact. pure knowing. or satiety. Melody is always a deviation from the key-note through a thousand capricious wanderings. and in this case is but a very insignificant epic. cannot continue. of which human every phenomenon. and then a final return to the key-note which expresses the satisfaction and appeasing of the will. in whose melodies we his- have recognized the universal expression of the inmost tory of the self-conscious will. We find the stamp of this endlessing ness imprinted upon all the parts of its whole manifestation. but it can also show . ennui. trifling delights. the ebb and flow of the human suffering. i. is it is neither preceded by suffer- ing or want. but with which nothing more can then be done. described in the epic and the drama. like Book : that the will. and trifling efforts commonest case or else it becomes a merely descriptive poem. but is only possible at moments. of human life. as such. and treat them as elements of actual First.56 THE GERMAN CLASSICS that the idyl. e. is a strivwithout aim or end. sorrow. even to the most painful discord.. endless time and space. nor necessarily followed by repentance. and delight — heart. the most secret life. the life and strivtheoretically assume three extremes all life. from its most universal form. and the continuance of which. longing. to the up most perfect of ing of man. any longer. depicting the beauty of nature.

in all its vehemence. life to death. with many and deep sufferings. and also of the knowledge attaching to it. pure knowing. must be paid for by the whole will to live. passage after passage. and is for the most part only a weak and wavering approach to one or the other side. to repeat the same old piece it has played innumerable times before. seldom touches any of them. how meaningless and void of significance when looked at from without. a needy desiring of trifling objects.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA itself in the little 57 world. Second. — incredible intellect It is really constantly recurring. allows to remain for a time so short that it vanishes into nothing in comparison with these. Such men are like clockwork. measure after measure. and every time a man is begotten and born the clock of human life is wound up anew. accompanied by a series of trivial thoughts. corpse makes us suddenly so serious. life-benumbing languor (Tama-Guna). how dull and unenlightened by when felt from within. — — This is why the sight of a feared and coming at last. It is a weary longing and coma dream-like staggering through the four ages of plaining. And and here lies the serious side of life everv one of yet these fleeting forms. the greatest lethargy of the will. which its carelessly sketches on space and time. the comprehension of the Ideas. Third and lastly. long infinite leaf. for the size of the objects is measured here by the degree in which they influence the will. is but another short dream of the endless spirit of nature. and then obliterates to make new room. is and it only another fleeting form. is the course of the life of the great majority of men. which is wound up and goes it knows not why. . not according to their external relations. these empty fancies. far from becoming permanently fixed in one of these extremes. The life of the individual. Every individual. every human being his course of life. and finally with a bitter death. of the persistent will to live. empty longing. with insig- nificant variations. conditioned by the freeing of knowledge from the service of will the life of genius (Satwa-Guna). and so escaping ennui.

. it is really always a tragedy. salutations. the Romans. our life must contain all the woes misery of tragedy. yet content with the cares. wishes. anxieties. Demons. which. as if fate would add derision to the of our existence. gods.> THE GERMAN CLASSICS The life of every individual. the frustrated the But to whatever measure great and small trials may fill human they are not able to conceal its insufficiency they cannot hide the emptiness and of existence. gone through in has the character of a comedy. with the Italians. which is ever bent upon some jest. but the never-satisfied hopes unmercifully crushed by fate. detail. are all through chance. efforts. Their service mingles tions. life. etc. in the form of a thousand different super- and then finds all manner of employment with this.hour. but.. pilgrimages. and occupations which the actual world lays upon it. later. Thus. are always a tragedy. then with the Greeks. and wastes time and strength upon it as soon as the real world is willing to grant it the rest which it is quite incapable of enjoying. if and in general and lay stress only we survey it as a whole upon its most significant features. This is accordingly most palpably the with nations for which life is made easy by the concase most of all with genial nature of the climate and the soil stitions. not open. For the deeds and vexations of the day. prayers. the unfortunate errors of the whole life. nor exclude ennui. with increasing suffering and death at the end. and saints man creates in his own image. ornaments for their images. is superficiality always ready to fill up every pause that care may leave Hence it comes to pass that the human mind. the restless irritation of the moment. and yet we cannot even assert the dignity of tragic characters. scenes of a comedy. creates for itself an imaginary world also. and to them he must then unceasingly bring offerings. the desires and fears of the week. etc. but in the broad detail of life must inevitably be the foolish characters of a comedy. and. to satisfy the spirit. — the Hindus. temple decora- vows and their fulfilment. the Spaniards. the mishaps of even.

and. and he still wills life. one case stands for a thousand. consustains hope. only not under the conditions which have become his but only then. All suffering. for him (since in a moral regard he partakes of genius). indeed. and. has potentially a sanctifying power. intercourse with expression and symptom of the actual need of mankind. he does not really look at the special combination of circumstances which has plunged his own life into suffering. the first need (because when accidents and dangers arise valuable time and strength. § 68 . are uselessly wasted on prayers and serves the second end all the better by this offerings). obscures it. or mourning some great and incurable misfortune. clings phenomenon. for in so far his knowl- edge still follows the principle of sufficient reason. him to when. instead of being directed to warding them it off. Every event of life is regarded as the reaction by these beings. since it is a mortification and a call to resig- nation. imaginary converse with a visionary spirit world.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 59 everywhere with the real. when he regards his suffering as merely an example of the whole. of life conceived as essentially suffering brings resignation. is he truly worthy of reverence when he raises his glance from the particular to the universal. partly for occupation and diversion and if it often works in direct opposition to It is the . This is the explanation of the fact that every great misfortune or deep pain inspires a certain awe. I say. the princess speaks of how her own life and that of her relations has always been sad and Therefore it reverence . often stantly becomes more interesting than intercourse with real beings. in inspires Goethe's Torquato Tasso. surveying the course of his life as a chain of sorrows. partly for help and support. them occupies half the time of life. and. by the charm of illusion. nor stops at the single great misfortune that has befallen him. But the sufferer as such becomes an object of genuine reverence only when. so that the whole to the particular .

pearance of the will. of the vanity of all not merely of his But such knowledge may primarily be awakened by the personal experience of suffering. but is a con- sciousness derived from knowledge possessions. and it is this. almost nothing else is deand the character shows itself mild. finally. a withdrawal. especially some one own. of the suffering of all life. acting as a quieter of the will. noble. grief has no definite object. then it is to a certain extent a going into itself. and When. THE GERMAN CLASSICS and yet regards the matter from an entirely uni- versal point of view. and retain merely a watery sentimentality. In this way we lose both earth and heaven. a mild foretaste of that death which promises to be the dissolution at once of the body and of the will. when a man is always mourning and lamenting without courageously rising to resignation. and lead us to fear a bad disposition). When through such a great and irrevocable denial of fate the will is to sired. is it the way of salvation and thereby worthy of reverence. and if this. sad. it imperceptibly but surely undermines. for the Daphne he pursued had to flee from his hands in order to leave him. the body. Therefore a calm joy accompanies this grief. the immortal laurel." But here also lies the danger of sentimentality. as I believe. instead of herself. Only if suffering assumes the form of pure knowledge. which the most melancholy of all nations has called "the joy of grief. Thus.60 joyless. brings about true resignation. we feel a certain respect at the sight of . as a single unfulfilled wish brought Petrarch to that state of resigned sadness concerning the whole of life which appeals to us so pathetically in his works. whose visible manifestation. a gradual disapresigned. so that a man feels a certain loosening of his bonds. but extends itself over the whole of life. which is anything but a constant fretfulness at daily annoyances (this would be an ignoble trait. some extent broken. very noble character A we always imagine with a certain trace of quiet sadness. both in life itself and in the representation of it in poetry. great sorrow.





or by suffering True salvation. which we have represented as two paths. and at the same time feel somewhat a reproach in our own happy condition. both our own and those of others. 61 every great sufferer. in the sweat of his brow and with evident exhaustion. Till then. indeed every one who merely performs some physical labor which demands the greatest exertion. becomes. is directly felt by a man himself. expressing themselves in the suffering of all living things. a constantly vain and empty striving. entire resig- nation. or holiness. I say. to which all irrevocably and in like manner belong. consists in whether that knowledge is called up by suffering which is merely and purely known and is freely appropriated by means of the pene- which tration of the principium individuationis . always proceeds from that quieter of the will which the knowledge of its inner conflict and essential vanity. if we consider him with close attention. because he knows that the more he suffers the more the cause of his disease is affected and that there- — fore the present suffering is the measure of his cure. and its one real form is the present from which they can . whose manifestation is an life and ephemeral existence. and even with satisfaction. endures the suffering it causes him. every one is simply this will itself.THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA is akin to the feeling excited virtue and nobility of character. and. This goes so far that every man who endures a great bodily or mental suffering. and who willingly. According to what has been said. deliverance from suffering. on the contrary. and the world full of suffering we have represented. The difference. as at least a potential advance toward virtue and holiness. cannot even be imagined without complete denial of the will. yet with patience and without murmuring every such man. appears to us like a sick man who tries a painful cure. which by we We cannot help regarding every sorrow. the denial of the will to live. which is just what is called absolute. For we found above that life is always assured to the will to live. pleasures and worldly satisfactions as a retrogression from them.

" The great ethical difference of characters means this that the bad man is infinitely far from the attainment of the knowledge from which the denial of the will proceeds. for even the present fortunate condition of his personality is merely a phenomenon produced by the prin- cipium individuationis. denial of and the greatest delight in death. which. . if it appears with its full power. and therefore he is in truth — actually exposed to all the miseries which appear in life as possible. proceed from the penetration of the principium individuationis. the unbroken peace which accompanies it.62 THE GERMAN CLASSICS never escape. on the other hand. results in perfect sanctification and salvation. the happy of a beggar. The sufferings which in the vehemence and ardor of his will he inflicts upon others are the measure of the suffering. itself. the experience of winch in his own dream person cannot break his will and plainly lead it to the All true and pure love. since birth and death reign in the phenomenal world. the phenomenon of which is the state of resignation described above. The Indian niythus expresses this by say" ing they are born again. and a delusion of Maya. and even all free justice.

PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA * TRANSLATED BY T. so long as it is am real. but even though their talent be course. only in its own wondrous and produce that it shall try to comprehend the varied spectacle of this world and then re- service. it in some form. I small. position. These may are the truly noble. London. the gulf is not so wide.. there will always be a sharp millions.A. Of — here referring to those who have not only the courage. and those very few and rare persons who have the courage to No my head is too good for that it shall be active say : ! . M. In the case of those to whom all this can only partially apply. whether as art or as literature. is so great as the gulf that separates the countless millions only service of their belly — in other words. Ltd. I ON GENIUS f (B firman difference of rank. to order the head to quit the service of the will with a result that proves the sacrifice to have been worth the making. comprehension does not extend beyond the limits of the Permission George Allen & Co. answer to my character as an individual. but also the call.. (1851) BAILEY SAUNDEES. or birth. [63] t . line of demarcation between them and the correct scale for adjusting the hierarchy of intelligences is furnished by the degree in which the mind takes merely individual or approaches universal views of things. and therefore the right. Chapter III. From Parerga and Paralipomenc. the real noblesse of the world. its * The most The brute recognizes only the individual as such. in part. the others are serfs and go with the soil glebce adscripti. look who use their head in the upon it as an instrument of the will.

The works of fine art. the nearer do his general ideas approach the point at which they become universal. has only a single be called subjective by contrast with certain technical rules. the world and all it contains. cum grano sails For him who can understand aright the relation between the genius and the normal man may. : — — A genius is a man perhaps. If this herein lies grasp of the universal is so deep as to be intuitive. poetry and philosophy produced by a nation are the outcome of the superfluous intellect — existing in it. or quintessence. THE GERMAN CLASSICS But man reduces the individual to the general . mirror by virtue of his purely objective attitude toward it. which differ according to the approach made to a universal view of things. of which he becomes . on intellect. when it is self-active it rises to genius and reaches the highest degree of intensity when it becomes philosophic for then the whole of life and existence as it passes away. This knowledge is of an esthetic character. which may the objective intellect of genius. and the higher his intelligence reaches. are grasped in their true nature by an act of intuition and appear in a form which forces itself upon consciousness as an object of meditation. the exercise of his reason. The normal man. then there arises a knowledge of the Ideas in the sense used by Plato. be best expressed as follows possessing a double intellect. The work of art or poetry or philosophy produced by the genius is simply the result. one for himself and the service of his will the other for the world. Here reflection attains its highest point. and to apply not only to general ideas but to an individual object by itself. jective intellect may be it grees of perfection — — and However acute this sub- exists in very various deis never on the same level with the it double intellect of genius. the of this contemplative attitude. Between it and the merely animal perception there are countless stages. just as the open chest notes of the .64 individual. elaborated according to the other hand.

with a node between them. example of this independent. double intellect like this must. And what specially characterizes genius is that it has none of that sobriety of temper which is always to be found in the ordinary simple intellect. learning. This illustration may help the reader to understand that specific peculiarity of genius which is unmistakably stamped on the works. while the open chest notes of the human voice and the lower octave of the flute are produced by the undivided column of air vibrating as a whole. story. obstruct the service of the will. XV — 5 . like the two upper octaves of the flute and the harmonics of the violin. as a rule. be it acute or dull. purely of the intellect. rectification and extension. During the war in the Champagne. are produced by the column of air dividing itself into two vibrating halves. separate existence is furnished by Goethe. and this explains the poor capacity often shown by genius in the conduct of life. edge. are essentially different from These. and remains untouched by the fate common him personally.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA human voice. so long as it does not disturb him in his work. The brain may be likened to a parasite which is nourished as a part of the human frame without contributing directly economy. It is thus a life which uplifts a man and sets him above fate and its changes. practising his knowlthat overtakes soon comes to look upon this second life as of existence and his merely personal life as something subordinate. experimenting. not of mere learning. At the same time it is obvious that a the falsetto notes. Always thinking. and even on the physiognomy. serving only to advance ends higher than itself. it is securely housed in the topmost and there leads a self-sufficient and independent life. In the same way it may be said that a man endowed with great mental gifts leads. 65 however high. a second life. but of real systematic knowledge and insight. of him who is gifted with it. the the chief man mode An Vol. apart from the individual life to its inner He to all. devotes himself to the constant increase.

every the transcendental race as it hurries by furnishing its contribution. This intellectual life. he made observations for his theory7 of color. this explains why their judgments constantly agree — not. like some gift from heaven. the salt of the earth. or Conquassata sed ferax. but of the free. have a certain tendency to Thus on similar occasions their thoughts at once take the same direction and run on the same lines. . the stir and — . The is. not of the bond-woman. and in the perfection of the arts.66 THE GERMAN CLASSICS all and amid the bustle of the camp. as it were. in so far as it is a difference of degree. the real life is the life of the will. by never letting anything disturb us in the pursuit of our intellectual life. and art takes its innocent and bloodless way. however much the storm of the world may invade and agitate our personal environment always remembering that we are the sons. dominated by will and side by side with the history of nations the history of philosophy. but still bearing its ruddy fruit on every branch. should endeavor to follow. too. That purely intellectual life of the individual has its counterpart in humanity as a whole. but one is tempted to regard it also as qualitative in view of the fact that ordinary minds. he took up the manuThis is an example which we. a the sweet-scented air developed out of the ferment itself real life of mankind. and think alike. notwithstanding individual variation. hovers over movement of the world. I propose a tree — mightily shaken by the wind. script of his Farbenlehre. science. a quantitative one. difference between the genius and the ordinary man no doubt. The purely intellectual life of humanity lies in its effort to increase knowledge by means of the sciences. and as soon as the numberless calamities of that war allowed him to retire for a short time to the fortress of Luxemburg. for there. with the motto Dum convellor mitescunt. or it is. As our emblem and coat of arms. Both science and art thus advance slowly from one generation to another and grow with the centuries. both in the empirical and in meaning of the word.

It happens only now and then. and. therefore. that a man is born whose intellect so perceptibly surpasses the normal measure as to amount to that second faculty which seems to be accidental. This is essential to his nature a fact which can neither be avoided nor altered. and he himself a higher being. to some extent. The world looks up to a man thus endowed. Like the ordinary man. also of that which is opposed to them namely. But when it is once discerned that a new genius has arisen. now in another. To such lengths does this go that certain fundamental views obtain among mankind at all times. in thp hope that he may be able to enlighten some of the darkness of their existence or inform them about it. a revelation.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMEXA 67 however. It instruction is . A genius is a man in whose mind the World as Idea reflects itself with a higher degree of clearness and a greater distinction of outline than is attained by ordinary people. because they are based on truth. from him that humanity may look for most matters is for the deepest insight into the most important to be acquired. let us say once in a century. And if his mind reaches maturity the instruction he gives will be conveyed. and are always being repeated and brought forward anew. not by an observant attention to detail. the genius is what he is chiefly for himself. while the great minds of all ages are in open or secret opposition to them. as it is out of all relation to the will. one's own self. and this is a very rare event. mankind will crowd round him and his works. and expects to learn something about life and its real nature. He may remain a long time without being recognized or appre- — one and envy the other. Thus genius may be defined as an eminently clear consciousness of things in general. but by a close study of things as a whole. His message is. stupidity preventing the standard. even though he may be but little above the average ciated. now in one form. But several highly favorable circumstances must combine to produce genius. What he may be for — .

genius can produce original thoughts just as little as a woman by herself can bear children. Yet. of which there is scarcely one in a hundred millions.68 THE GERMAN CLASSICS others remains a matter of chance and of secondary importance. it can never be anything but an exotic plant. as father to its progeny. by itself. mere man of learning a Gottingen professor or for instance looks upon the genius much as we librarius. and perhaps even immortal thoughts. it were. just as idio-electrical bodies are not conductors. it is enough to estrange oneself so fully from the world of things for a few moments that the most ordinary objects and events appear quite new and unfamiliar. Nay. — stunted and frail. and then only when he joins with them in the attempt to get his thought into their heads where. in this way their true nature is disclosed. be said to be difficult it is not in our power at all. The relation of the genius to the ordinary mind may also be described as that of an idio-electrical body to is merely a conductor of electricity. while the others reflect only that which they have received. however. outward circumstances must come to fructify genius. who spends his life in teaching what he has learned. and without them mankind would lose itself in the boundless sea of A monstrous error and bewilderment. In no case can people receive from his mind more than a reflection. This process cannot. are thus the lighthouses of humanity. look upon a hare. one from whom we learn something which the genius has learned from nobody. a the carlight of buncle its The mind of genius is among other minds what it sends forth is among precious stones — own. genius one which is therefore not man stands to mere learning as the text to the notes. and be. Great minds. perhaps. The genius fit to become a mere man of learning. In order to have original. . a man of genius. but is just the province of genius. which is good to eat after it has been But the — — . of learning is a man who has learned a great deal. uncommon.

and by admitting the world only as the heir of his ample existence then the world would find the mark of his existence only after . fertilizing. like the marks in the Ichnolith. . and in firm confidence elaborate his doubt the result may work for coming generations. his death. What man has. If he considers it a hard fate.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA killed 69 but. Both. It is the same with the man of genius he. with great effort sets up a monument there in order to transmit to future seafarers the knowledge of his existence. more truly lived than he whose moments of thought make their echoes heard through the tumult of centuries? Perhaps. good to He who wishes to win gratitude from his contemporaries must adjust his pace to theirs but great things are . never produced in this way. let him console himself with the reflection that the ordinary man who lives only for practical ends often suffers likewise. inasmuch as he may. buying. And he who wants to do great things must direct his gaze to posterity. spend a life of material production. in any real sense. beautifying. but in what it is to of . compelled to spend his life upon a lonely island. not in what it is to others. itself. it is onlyshoot at. establishing. under favorable conditions. No be that he will remain quite unknown to his contemporaries. and without having any compensation to hope for. and sometimes not even his descendants. founding. have inherited a deal from their ancestors. and dressed up. and all the time think that he is working for himself — and yet in the end it is his descendants who reap the benefit it all. it would be the best thing for a genius to attain undisturbed possession of himself by spending his life in enjoying the pleasure of his own thoughts. too. earning. and comparable to a man who. with daily effort and unflagging zeal. his own works. building. great The compensation I have mentioned as the privilege of genius lies. hopes for his reward and for honor. after all. at least but at last finds that he has worked for posterity alone. laying out. so long as it is alive. to be sure. .

it will take as much pleasure therein as the victim of gout receives in being invited to a ball. full of life. compared with a mere outline or a weak sketch in water-color. like a brilliant oil-painting. The one goes for the sake of formality. In the same way a man of even with comfort. and so will apprehend small matters. Further. even when directed to objects essentially men the same. or of a genius. will perform all his ease. which are within the range of other minds. an activity for which superior mind will not only produce thoughts and works which could never have come from another. compared with the thoughts of the common man. This will be an inexhaustible spring of delight and boredom. quickly. Then. man who is un- A usually well-knit. supple. is. because he takes a direct pleasure in he is particularly well equipped. . and even in ordinary walking. he will also delight himself in them at all times. whether of his own or another's. simple mind. . For La Bruyere was quite right when he said: "All the wit in the world is lost upon him who has none. and movements with exceptional agile. too. if he is an acrobat or a dancer. and the other reads the book so as not to be in arrears. that spectre which haunts the ordinary man. for it will not be here alone that he will display his greatness. and therefore often exercises it without any object. but. and so his mind will have no further aim than to be constantly active. as knowledge and thought form a mode of activity natural and easy to him. but he also betrays rare elasticity and agility in those easier steps which others can also perform.70 THE GERMAN CLASSICS Nor is it only in the activity of his highest powers that the genius surpasses ordinary people. not only does he take leaps which other people cannot execute. every problem solved." The whole range of thought of a man of talent. can never come near him. more easily. If a great product of genius is recommended to the ordinary. Thus he will take a direct and lively pleasure in every increase of knowledge. the masterpieces of past and contemporary of genius exist in their fulness for him alone. every witty thought. and correctly than they.

or. Great minds thus owe little ones some indulgence for it is only in virtue of these little minds that they themselves are great. It is not their want Their path through the of sociability that is to blame. world is like that of a man who goes for a walk on a bright summer morning. Caius had to live among wretchedly small people. . to give the thoughts and . be pleasing it to the world. to the dialogues him as a child talks to a doll. wretched. However great. to bring his views into would a contradictio in adjecto. he talks to monologue If he. their hollowness may possibly drive him back to his soliloquy. say. then. however admirable or entertaining a long posterity since size is relative. He gazes with delight on the beauty and freshness of nature. even the manners and mannerisms of the million. unluckily. to set a higher value upon them. latter. and insipid in proportion. ants as they bend over the earth and cultivate the Thus it often happens that a great mind prefers his soil. nay. during his lifetime he will appear to his contemporaries small. for Brobdignak and Lilliput vary only in the point from which they start. so there are exactly three hundred from the summit to the base. own which are recited in this world. no doubt. Let us. then. This is what I mean by saying that as there are three hundred feet from the base of a tower to the summit. and. condescends now and then to take part in the however. but he has to rely wholly on that for entertainment for he can find no society but the peas. is compel a genius opinions. wide apart as they are. but. not be surprised if we find men of genius generally unsociable and repellant. a great Modesty in It mind would. for in forgetfulness of his interlocutor. Caius may think the author of immortal works. and compensates him for a lonely existence in a world with which he has nothing in common and no sympathies.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA All this is 71 part of the reward of the man of genius. preference over his own. But it comes to the same thing whether I was a great man. or caring little whether he understands or not.

when morning comes. he is at any rate true to harmony with so as to let the others hold the field. without its dangers. in spite of their criticism. he contentedly goes his way. . No one becomes great without arrogance of this sort. and extraordinary work can be done only in so far as its author disregards the method. like some noble traveler forced to pass the night in a miserable inn. the thoughts. by increasing and multiplying objects of luxury. A poet or philosopher should have no fault to find with his age. has. indeed. to live in the narrowest circumstances. however. and he prefers. if the corner granted him permits him to follow his vocation without having to think about other people. more leisure and culture upon one side. whose brain-power goes beyond measure necessary for the service of the will. It is otherwise with ordinary people for them leisure into a the — . The technics of our time. which has reached unprecedented perfection. he would either produce nothing at all. or even suppress them altogether. given the favorites of fortune a choice between obtaining. himself. if they give him the leisure which is invaluable to him. has no value in nor is it.72 THE GERMAN CLASSICS theirs. if it only permits him to do his work undisturbed in his own corner. as these people seem to know. For the brain to be a mere laborer in the service of the belly is indeed the common lot of almost all those who do not live on the work of their hands and they are far from being discontented with their lot. and quietly works on. But it strikes despair . or else his achievements would be just upon a level with theirs. nor with his fate. Should his life and work fall upon a time which cannot recognize and appreciate him. Great. on his side despising what they praise. itself. the opinions of his contemporaries. man of great mind. genuine. by increased effort. if need be. In that case. so long as they afford him the free use of his time for the in other development and application of his faculties words. and True additional luxury and good living upon the other.

And Giordano Bruno says the same thing: " What a difference there is in having to do with men compared with those who are only made in their " And how wonderfully this passage image and likeness! with that remark in the Kurral: " The common agrees — . it is is For as sensual pleasures or childish amusements. they will be capable of taking an objective interest in things. they are content to gape or to indulge in But. Either they will pursue some liberal study which brings them in nothing. will not only rarely in most cases.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA 73 to their character. and. or dress up and make obeisance to one another. the will is the centre. and if anything is said to it them they grasp or understand aright. Intellectual effort . own very seldom that such an alternative most men have no superfluity of presented. . it sake they call eccentricity therefore persistence in the aims of the wall and the belly will be concentricity. the kernel of the world. their conversation will not be worth listening to. or they will converse in the dullest way. to them. they choose the latter and prefer champagne to freedom. And how few are those who have even a slight superfluity of intellectual power! Like those who have some money to spare. cards or dice. be opposed to their own opinions. or they will practise some art. but it will. being thus entirely consistent in their choice for. for its . they too seek for themselves pleasure but it is the pleasure of the intellect. but only just enough for their needs. so it is with money. and. they possess just enough to suffice for the service of the will. experience or at any rate impart what they have learned from some one else. for. But with the others it is better not to enter into any relations at all — own except when they tell the results of their or give an account of their special vocation. for the carrying on of their business. intelligence. every exertion of the mind which does not serve the aims of the will is follv. in general. so that it will be possible to converse with them. that is. Balthazar Gracian describes them very strikingly as men who are not men> hombres che non lo son. to be sure. in general. This done.

abounding in so much use and beauty. their total lack of discernment. but with them. Countless times. at other times I have been astounded that from such race there could have gone forth so many arts and sciences. their bestiality. . For I am often surprised by the clever- may ness.7-4 THE GERMAN CLASSICS people seem to be men. It is then like the sound of untrained voices. established and perfected themselves. belong and sometimes indeed a correct opinion the multitude itself." To satisfy the need of cheerful entertainment. whose moral and intellectual qualities mm almost always afford delight and gratification. but I have never seen anything quite like them. we should always be careful to avoid being unjust. but this is will be formed by only when the chorus of lias grown full and complete. and the race has with persistent fidelity preserved Homer. praise . Yet these But a arts and sciences have struck root. even though it has always been the few that produce them. let me reco end the company of dogs. thus saving them from oblivion in spite of all the evils and atrocities that have happened in the world. as with men. to the great multitude it is by a kind of inspiration. and to insure oneself against feeling solitary. of my dog and I have similar experiences with mankind. I have been forced to echo the old complaint that folly human race — is the mother and the nurse of the Hamani generis mater nutrixque profecto Stultitia est. Plato. such means mankind has proved that it appreciates By the value of these things. and now and again by the stupidity. in indignation at their incapacity. where there are enough of them. Horace and others of their kind for thousands of years by copying and treasuring their writings. it is always harmonious. and that it can at the same time form a correct view of special individual achievements or recognize at their true worth indications of judgment and When this takes place among those who intelligence.

or the vessel that contains it." But there is always a limit to human capacity. But the educated public is no sooner set right in this than the veneration which is due to genius degenerates. Their originality is so great that not only is their divergence from others obvious. lo This true and so justly celebrated: stampo: what makes that simile of Ariosto's so Natura lo fece e poi ruppe "After Nature stamps a man of genius. every one of them. — just where Goethe is great. just as the veneration which the faithful pay to their saints easily and so. but its veneration is generally directed to the wrong object. peculiarities of character and mind. It will be a faculty which. fond of venerating something. might have been an obstacle to the exercise of the qualities in which he excels. What this weak point is. but their individuality is expressed with such force that all the men of genius who have ever existed show. and vice versa. or the . are merely the lucida intervalla of the whole human race. Thousands of Christians adore the relics of a saint whose life and doctrine are unknown to them. those who are called men of genius. so that the gift of the work of each individual is such as he alone of all men could ever have presented to the world. even in a given case. and it remains so directed until posterity comes to set it right. it will always be hard to define with any accuracy. there will be some faculty in which he is now and then inferior even to men of moderate endowments. It may be better expressed indirectly. she is breaks the die. thus Plato's weak point is exactly that in which Aristotle is strong. Kant is deficient Now mankind is passes into a frivolous worship of relics. They achieve that which others could not possibly achieve. generally speaking.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA 75 But. those who emerge from the multitude. and the religion of thousands of Buddhists lies more in veneration of the Holy Tooth or some such object. and no one can be a great genius without having some decidedly weak side. too. if strong. it may even be some intellectual narrowness in other words.

debating and what was the cost of of its This is all very well. in its manner of treatment. For the more intelligent however among them are moved by a wish to see the objects which the great man habitually had before his eyes. than in the thorough knowledge and faithPetrarch's house in practise of his high teaching. by a supreme effort . Kant's old hat. All it cares for is the theme. to such people are those who earnestly strive to acquaint themselves with the subject-matter of a poet's works. and attending only to the whether it is carved well or gilding it. the Family of Lotte in Werther. such as the Faust legend and its literature. or that something of him must cling to them. with its furniture. or the Holy Tree which Buddha planted. not in the form of a work. or the fossil footstep. style ill. there is another class of persons whose interest is also directed to material and personal considerations. To reward a great man for having opened up to them the treasures of his inmost being. but in its actual matter. To read a philosopher's biography. by a strange illusion. that is. and. Gretchen in the Weissadlergasse. neglecting a picture frame. Tasso's supposed prison in Ferrara Shakespeare's Arqua ful . This is as though the audience in a theatre were to admire a fine scene. and then rush upon the stage to look at the scaffolding that supports it. chair. but they go much further and carry it to a point where it becomes absolutely contemptible. is like in- stead of studying his thoughts.76 THE GERMAN CLASSICS Holy Bowl. There are in our day enough instances of these critical investi- gators making special studies of Friederike in Sesenheim. Goethe's house in Weimar. etc. . the autographs of great men these things are gaped at with interest and awe by many who have never read their works. with his — can do nothing else than just gape. They prove the truth of the saying that mankind is interested. and. these produce the mistaken notion that with the objects they are bringing back the man himAkin self. However. and who house in Stratford. or to unravel the personal circumstances and events in his life which have suggested particular passages.

worthy of a seat in the Paulskirche. — — — Responsura tuo nunquam est par fama labori.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA 77 of his faculties. again. to the effort you have made is it A — . . Nor. and whether he ought not to have married one or other of the girls with whom he fell in judgment upon — young days whether. for this is almost outweighed by the greatness of the effort. if you look at it besides it never corresponds closely. man of talent will strive for money and glory. but will also benefit their posterity to the tenth and twentieth generation. is it exactly the pleasure it gives you. he should devoting not have been a man of the people. ing ingratitude and malicious detraction prove that these self-constituted judges are as great knaves morally as they are intellectually. which is saying a great deal. This is the real source of all those prolix discussions. and trying if they cannot discover here or there some spot in him which will soothe the pain they feel at the sight of so great a mind a pain excited by comparison with the overwhelming feeling of their own nothingness. instead of honestly himself to the service of his master. neither for glory only a Frenchman could mean that glory is such an uncertain thing. on the moral aspect of Goethe's life. but the spring that moves genius to the production of its works is not so easy to name wealth is seldom its reward. which drives the man of genius to give permanent form to what he sees and feels. carried on in countless books and reviews. in return of his having presented mankind with a matchless gift these varlets think themselves justified in sitting in his personal morality. Such crylove in his . by a necessity similar to that which makes a tree bear its fruit. without being conscious of any further motive. again. in the main. It works. It is rather a peculiar kind of instinct. and so on. and no external condition is needed but the ground upon which it is to thrive. and. produced works which not only redound to their elevation and enlightenment. of so little value. a German patriot.

His work of his as it and his into a wreath of laurel. without thinking of reward or applause or sympathy. . Die haben leider mir gefehlt. were conscious of having by some rare chance and for a brief period attained a greater clearness of vision.78 THE GERMAN CLASSICS On a closer examination it seems as though. for the whole species. and to strain his faculties to the utmost. and for it he wears the crown of thorns which is one day to bloom is. a sacred deposit and the true fruit aim in storing it away for a more dislife. An aim like this far surpasses all others. and were now trying to secure it. — Ein Fiirst d-er die Talente schatzte. which is the spirit of the human species. will be to make it the property of mancerning posterity kind. comes to think more about posterity than about contemporaries because. the will to live. this instinct drives the genius to carry his work to completion. he has no princely patron to prize his talents. in the case of a genius. posterity forms the majority of the species. in the last stage of its development. and time will gradually bring the discerning few who can appreciate him. while the latter can only lead him astray. . to leave all care for his own personal welfare to make his life one of industrious soliHe thus tude. good effect. it puts its eggs in some place of safety. the young will one day find life and nourishment. or at least the outcome of it. as it well knows. where. Ein Freund der skh mit mir ergbtzte. to which the individual genius in his inmost being belongs so that the light which he sheds about him may pierce the darkness and dulness of ordinary human consciousness and there produce some . were. in the effort to complete and secure All his powers are concentrated his work just as the — insect. Arising in some such way. no friend to rejoice with him . and then cheerfully dies. uses its whole strength on behalf of a brood it will never live to see. Meanwhile it is with him as with the artist described by Goethe.

in other words. our existence world. it is true. let him compare the respective feelings of two animals. should be without purpose and merely accidental. . while * in this world. and he seeks to strengthen his it is * in its essence. Chapter XII. If the reader wishes to see shortly whether this statement is true. e. or. II. outweighs at any rate.. as an exception but misfortune as such the rule. ! Parerga and Paralipomena. The pleasure in this the pain the two. the good. On the contrary. is negative. one of which is engaged in eating the other. every kind of happiness and satisposition faction. . who chooses out first one and then . I know of no greater absurdity than that propounded by most metaphysical systems in declaring evil to be negative precisely the one positive thing Leibniz is particularly concerned to defend this absurdity. world. This explains the fact that we generally find pleasure to be not nearly so pleasant as we expected. But what an awful fate this means for mankind as a whole We are like lambs in a field.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA II 79 ON THE SUFFERINGS OF THE WORLD * Unless suffering life. Each individual case of misfortune is appears. For it the direct and immediate object of the most purposeless thing in the is absurd to assume that the endless pain is is originating in the misery so essential to life. The most effective consolation in misfortune or affliction of any kind is the thought of other people who are in a still worse plight than ourselves and in this a form of consolation open to every one. and pain very much more painful. with which the world is replete on all sides. by using a palpable and paltry sophism. . disporting themselves under the eye of the butcher. it has been said. i. nothing but the annulling of desire and ending of pain. there is an even balance between or.

loss of sight or reason. But if all Certain it is fulfilled as soon as they arose. they would go mad. misery But misfortune has its uses. they would present the spectacle of unbridled folly nay. how would men their lives? What would they do with their time? occupy If the world were a paradise of luxury and ease. etc. as we contemplate our coming life. just as a ship needs its ballast. men would either boredom or hang themselves or there would be wars. persecution. mutilation. never letting us take breath. there are . worry. for creatures of no other stage. as our bodily frame would burst asunder if the pressure of the atmosphere were — removed. where every Jack obtained his Jill at once and without any difficulty. but always coming after us like a taskmaster with a whip. further. we at the this kind are like children in a theatre before the curtain is raised. if everything they took in hand were successful. that work. though they might not burst. for. that Time is continually pressing upon us. if the lives of men were relieved of all need. is really going to happen. And I may say. Consequently.80 THE GERMAN CLASSICS another for his prey. sitting there in high spirits and eagerly waiting for the It is a blessing that we do not know what play to begin. No little part of the torment of existence lies in this. hardship and adversity. and murders. so that in the end mankind would inflict more suffering on itself than it has now to accept die of . labor and trouble form the lot of almost all men their whole life long. poverty. So it is that in our good days we are all unconscious of the evil Fate may have presently in store for us sickness. In early youth. they would be so swollen with arrogance that. no other existence is as fit as that offered us by this world of ours. Could we foresee it. It spares only him whom it delivers over to the of boredom. hands of Nature. death. a land wishes were flowing with milk and honey. that a certain amount of care or — pain or trouble is necessary for every man at all times in order to go straight. so. massacres.

Scemann. Leipzig Max Kling'' ON THE RAILS .Permission E. A.


even though things have gone with you tolerably well. you will admit that it would be much better if on the earth. in any case. but to life. Nevertheless every when desires to reach old age in other words. and it will be worse tomorrow. and if. the sun were able to call forth the phenomena of life. The tricks were meant to be seen only once. after having been separated for a lifetime. and as yet all unconscious of what their sentence means. This feeling will so completely predominate every other that they will not even consider it necessary to give it words. not to death. on either side. He who lives to see two or three generations is like a man who sits some time in the conjurer's booth at a fair. sarily disturbing the blessed calm of non-existence. life is a disappointment nay. and witnesses the performance twice or thrice in succession. the chief feeling they will have at the sight of each other will be one of complete disappointment at life as a whole because their thoughts will be carried back to that earlier time when life had seemed so fair as it lay spread out before them in the rosy light of dawn. what an amount of misery." life man — of which If you try to imagine. as nearly as you can. but. had promised so much and then performed so little. Vol. XV — 6 . pain and suffering of every kind the sun shines upon in its course. While no man is greatly to be envied for his lot. here as there. condemned. so that. the surface were still in a crystalline state. .PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA times 81 children might seem like innocent prisoners. a cheat. there are countless numbers whose fate is to be deplored. If two men who were friends in their youth meet again when they are old. you may look upon life as an episode unnecesAnd. Again. when they are no longer a novelty and an illusion. it will be silently assumed and form the ground-work of all they have to talk about. — — is gone. and so on till the worst of all. the longer you live the more clearly you will feel on the whole. their effect that. as little as on the moon. a state of " It is bad it may be said: today.

which is It follows. If this has been free from suffering is the true viewpoint. not by its joys and pleasures. therefore. I have reminded the reader that every state of welfare. and it is an easy and agreeable task to upset their theories. and you will get it. or else the absence of these things. but by the extent to which it from positive evil. the material basis of it all is bodily pleasure or it is simply This basis is very restricted bodily pain. not take it upon himself to impose that burden upon it in cold blood? I shall be told again. Consequently. protection from wet and cold. university professors are bound to preach optimism. the satisfaction of the sexual instinct. and leave philosophers in peace! At any rate. a little more closely. it means that the man has fulfilled his function. Go to the priests. — health. is a very expressive one. is negative in its character. every feeling of satisfaction. would the human race continue to exist? Would not a man rather have so much sympathy with the coming generation as to spare it the burden of existence. food. as far as real physical pleasure is concerned. then. Ask them Your for any doctrine you please. The Latin equivalent for "he died": defunct us est. If children were brought into the world by an act of pure reason alone. at any rate. and people prefer to be assured that everything the Lord has made is good. leading a man to seek the one and shun rascals of sham philosophers will — the other. except in so far . it consists in freedom from pain. do not ask us to accommodate our doctrines That is what those to the lessons you have been taught. the lower animals appear to enjoy Let us examine the matter a happier destiny than man. However varied the forms that human happiness and misery may take. that the happiness of any given life is to be measured.82 Life is THE GERMAN CLASSICS a task to be done. that is to say. the man is not better off than the brute. that my philosophy is comfortless — because I speak the truth. or. the positive element of existence. I suppose. do for you.

as it were. in : . at and If suicide. memory. in the one depth and vehemence of his emotions ! ! — produce the same result in the end. up the same elements of pleasure and pain which are com. it is as though it were suffering for the first time. mon the him and the brute. a machine for condensing and storing up his pleasures and his sorrows. taking in. namely: health. man has intentionally added to the number and pressure of his needs. it develops his susceptibility to happiness and misery to such a degree that. and so on. it must be remembered. instant to a state of delight that another to the depths of despair further. food. The chief source of all this passion is that concern for what is absent and future. that. fine clothes. exercises such a powerful influence upon all he does. how much stronger are the passions aroused in him What an immeasurable difference there is in the and yet. But then. to every kind of pain. which. even though the same thing should have previously happened to it times out of number. whenever it is in case. compared with the brute. But the brute has nothing of the kind.PAREBGA AND PARALIPOMENA 83 as the higher possibilities of his nervous system make him more sensitive to every kind of pleasure. which in their original state were not much more difficult to Hence luxury in all its satisfy than those of the brute. It has no power of summing up its feelings hence its careless and placid temper how much it is to be envied But in man reflection comes with all the emotions to wT hich it gives rise and. the use of tobacco and opium. but also. It is this that is the real origin of his cares. and the thousand and one things that he considers necessary to his existence. man possesses. all to — pain. his hopes. we carry our analysis a step we shall find order to increase his pleasures. clothing. with man. and foresight. at one moment. spirituous liquors. In his powers of reflection. forms delicate food. as in the other. his fears emotions which affect him much more deeply than could ever be the case with those present joys and sufferings to which the brute is confined. — ! . to man is brought in an may even prove fatal.

man has the pleasures of of many gradations. a wonderful thing that the mere addition . The crowd of miserable wretches whose one aim in life is to fill their purses. they will rush about in all directions. consequently. traveling here. to the highest intellectual achievements but the accompanying boredom to be set against them on the side of suffering. which is however. then. into a more or less passionate love. This feeling grows. but never to put anything into their heads. often very strange ones. from merest talk up there is the mind as well. misery of having nothing to do for. there is a separate and peculiar source of pleasure and. offers a singular instance of this torment of boredom. These admit the most innocent trifling or the . besides the sources of pleasure which he has in common with the brute. it has become a downright scourge. in the case of . to escape it. — feeling of honor and shame in plain words. may mention that. which man has established for himself. of pain. at any rate in their natural state it is the very cleverest of them which show faint traces only of it when they are domesticated. No sooner do they arrive in a place than they are anxious to know what amusements it affords just as beggars are asking where they could receive a dole! Of a . Taking a . need Finally.84 THE GERMAN CLASSICS And above and beyond all this. nay. Their wealth becomes a punishment by delivering them up to the man. committed to a peculiar arrangement which drives to choose him obstinately one person. — truth. the source of little pleasure and much suffering. whereas. now and It is. It is true that. there and everywhere. this becomes the goal of almost all the efforts he makes that are not rooted in physical pleasure or pain. I man is and boredom are the two poles of human life. as regards the sexual relation. thousand forms. what he thinks about the opinion other people have of him. almost more than all his other interests put together I mean ambition and the . also as the result of using his powers of reflection and this occupies him out of all proportion to its value. Boredom is a form of suffering unknown to brutes.

PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA 85 of thought should serve to raise such a vast and loftystructure of human happiness and misery. manages make so-called natural death the rule. when all is told. to it. become the prey of some other animal to — whilst man. too. The brute from death instinctively without really knowing what is. because the unnatural way in which he lives. and exposing him to such violent emotions. freedom from the torment of care and anxiety. death. that what he has suffered stands written in peron his face. on the one side. in any real sense. to so many storms of passion. and then. with but also less of joy. is unknown to . And yet. to which. resting. there are a good many exceptions tage is on the side of the brute. for the reason stated above. and therefore without ever contemplating it in the natural to a man. the advanhowever. so much convulsion of feeling. and with an incomparably smaller expenditure of passion and pain. it is also due to the fact that hope. and most of them live only just long enough to transmit their species. the life of the brute carries less of sorrow . man the plant is wholly so and man finds satisfaction in existence just in proportion as he is dull and obtuse. and while this may be traced. lead to a — degeneration of the race is . who has this prospect always before So that even if only a few brutes die a natural way his eyes. Accordingly. and the strain of work and emotion. if not earlier. on the same narrow basis of joy and sorrow as man holds in common with the brute. the fact that death is something very real to him. he has been struggling ultimately for the very same things that the brute has attained. The brute much more content with mere existence than . on the other hand. and so his goal is not often reached. when compared with the life of man. But the fact is that man attains the natural term of years just as seldom as the brute. But all this contributes to increase the measure of suffer- manent traits in the lines ing in human life out of are all proportion to its and the pains of flies it life made much worse for man by pleasures.

to what it can actually see before it. whereas a man's range of hope exist in its nature — and they do life. it is also. is because . and extends far into one respect in which But just on this account. They are the present moment personified. itself so up entirely to the present moment that contributes much to the delight we take in our domestic pets. so that the actual pleasure of the moment comes to it whole and unimpaired. for the more we look forward to anything the less satisfaction we find in it when it comes. And.86 the brute. both of which we owe to our power If the brute is free from care. and hence what elements of fear and consciousness is not go very far arise only in relation to objects that lie before it and within reach of those impulses. THE GERMAN CLASSICS It is thus deprived of any share in that which gives us the most and the best of our joys and pleasures the mental anticipation of a happy future. without hope this. and the inspirit- — ing play of phantasy. But the brute's enjoyment is not anticipated and therefore suffers no deduction. and in some respects . tranquility of mind which this seems to give them often puts us to shame for the many times we allow our thoughts and our cares to make us restless and discontented. The brute is the present moment personified. in either case. its limited to the present moment. in this sense. of imagination. even those pleasures of hope and anticipation which I have been mentioning are not to be had for nothing. with us. In the same way. there is brutes show real wisdom when compared with us — I mean The their quiet placid enjoyment of the present moment. the fear of its coming often makes its burden ten times more grievous. evil presses upon the brute only with its own intrinsic weight whereas. — vision embraces the whole of his the past and the future. It is just this characteristic way in which the brute gives which a man some special satisfaction . too. The delight has in hoping for and looking forward to is a part of the real pleasure This is afterward attaching to it enjoyed in advance. deducted.

PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA 87 they make us feel the value of every hour. phenomena. if not actually mythical in its character. Any further suffering explanation that may be given of their fate will be in the nature of hypothesis. The bird which was made so that might rove over half the world. which underlies the whole world of : — phenomena. and in order to atone for his folly he is bound to remain in it himself until he works out his redemp- Brahma fall . and ties up this intelligent animal with a dhain. and so we are forced to ask: Why and for what purpose does all this torment and agony exist? There is nothing here to the will pause it is not free to deny itself and so obtain give There is only one consideration that may redemption. And when I see how man misuses the dog. that the capacity for another. ing indignation against its master. it is possible to justify the sufferings of mankind. and I may leave the reader to speculate upon the matter for himself. however. . are often considerable. We serve to explain the sufferings of animals namely. even apart from their agency. while in a great measure brought about by men. his best friend. while we. going beyond it with our thoughts and preoccupaBut man. this that the will to live. disregard it. whose sufferings. is less in animals than in man. shall see later that. must in their case satisfy its cravings by feedThis it does by forming a gradation of ing upon itself. there to die a slow death in longing and crying for freedom for in a cage it does not sing for the pleasure of it. and often works it to such an extent that he allows the brute absolutely nothing more than mere bare life. misuses this quality of the brute to be more content than we are with mere existence. is said to have produced the world by a kind of or mistake. free of care. every one of which exists at the expense of I have shown. I feel the deepest sympathy with the brute and burnit . by taking a very high point of view. that selfish and heartless tions. creature. he shuts up into the space of a cubic foot. But this justification cannot apply to animals.

That is not bad. Even though Leibniz' of all contention. that this is the best possible worlds. that would not give us yet a Theodicy. Again. allfirst. out of pure caprice and because he enjoyed doing it. were correct. THE GERMAN CLASSICS As an account ! able According to the doctrines of of the origin of things. For he is the Creator not of the world only. that blessed state obtained by expiation. formed one knows not how. which had endured so long a time the change taking place by a kind of fatality.88 tion. Ormuzd and Ahriman are rival powers. the world came into being as the result of some inexplicable disturbance in the heavenly calm of Nirvana. but of possibility itself. and it is quite in keeping with this that it is the only one which presents no trace whatever of any belief in the immortality that a like — of the soul. all-powerful Being: the . There are two things which that this world is the make it impossible to believe successful work of an all-wise. and should then have clapped his hands in praise of his own work and declared everything to be " very " that will not do at all! In its explanation of the good origin of the world. continually at war. at the same time. although it is illustrated by an exactly parallel theory in the domain of physical science. which places the origin of the sun in a primitive streak of mist. that is admirBuddhism. the world became gradually worse and worse true of the until it assumed the dismal aspect physical orders as well it wears today. and. and. good. Excellent The Greeks looked upon the world and the gods as the work of an inscrutable neces- — — — ! sity until passable explanation. we may be content with it get a better. therefore. by a series of moral errors. he ought to have so ordered possibility as that it would admit of some- thing better. But —a we can God Jehovah should have created this world of misery and woe. This explanation must be understood as having at bottom some moral bearing. Judaism is inferior to any other form of religious doctrine professed by a civilized nation. Subsequently.

our own will. and supply material for sarcasm. There is nothing more certain than the general truth that it is the grievous sin of the world which has produced the I am not referring here grievous suffering of the world. Accordingly. entitled: Cursed be the ground for thy sake. even though it appears in the form of an allegory. the sole thing that reconciles me to the Old Testament is the story of the Fall. man. it is the only metaphysical truth in that book. and friend of Klopstock. but. In the one case (with * Matthias Claudius (1740-1815). as somethat had better not have been. on the contrary. they are just the facts which support what I have been saying. second. In my eyes. These things cannot be reconciled with any such belief. my meaning is metaphysical. and. They lead us to see that. like the children of a libertine. and that it is only latter they through having continually to atone for this sin that our existence is so miserable and that its end is death. in the fourth part of Translator. the obvious imperfection of its highest product. thoughtful reader a popular. therefore. There seems to me no better explanation of our existence than that it is the result of some false step. which appeared the treatise mentioned above. and teach us a lesson of humility. we come into the world with the burden of sin upon us. who is a burlesque caricature of what he should be.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA misery which abounds 89 in it everywhere. under the form an indictment against our own nature. under the forthing mer hypothesis.* which exhibits the essentially pessimistic spirit of Christianity. Whilst. they are our authority for viewing the world as own misdeeds. and. a popular poet. It is Between the ethics of the Greeks and the ethics of the Hindoos there is a glaring contrast. Herder and Lessing. He edited the Wandsbecker Bote. profound treatise on this subject by Claudius. some sin of which we are paying the I cannot refrain from recommending to the penalty. they amount to a bitter accusation against the outcome of our the Creator. to the physical connection between these two things lying in the realm of experience. — . at the same time.

the happy couple home. ment declares Law to have failed. of the will to live. They are opposed to each coffin. frees man from its dominion. but each is right. Allied with this a visible is the contrast between the Greek and It is strikingly the Christian idea of death. however rapidly its forms may change. and entire sacrifice of self. Roman? vii. ! Compare with that the Christian draped in mournful black and surmounted with a crucifix How much significance there is in these two ways of finding comfort in death. in The New Testawhich.* and. from the formal offer to the Evening when Hymen's torch lights at Florence. iii. there is no redemption. The other. Christianity is in the last resort right. in its stead. according to the ecclesiastical view compared of the matter. the object of ethics is to enable a man to lead a happy life. which remains sure of life for all time. however may twist it to our protestants and rationalists suit their purpose. The Old Testament represents man as under the dominion of Law. The one points to the affirmation other. The spirit of the New Testament is undoubtedly asceticism. of Plato).90 THE GERMAN CLASSICS the exception. The contrast which the New Testament presents when with the Old. is just that existing between my ethical system and the moral philosophy of Europe. love of one's neighbor. in the other. This is the path of redemption from the evil of the world.. however. the whole series of ceremonies attending a wedding in ancient times. preaches the kingdom of grace to be won by faith. Oalatians ii. as is and redeem him from life altogether directly stated in the very first words of the Sankhya it is to free — Karika. points to the denial of the will to live. in the symbol of suffering and death. the domain of death and devil. in relief. . presented in form on a which fine antique sarcophagus in the gallery exhibits. Asceticism is the denial r j Cf. it must be confessed. And in the question between the affirmation and the denial of the will to live. to redemption from this world.

and in the sayings of Greek philosophers retically. as expressed in Brahmanism and Buddhism. At the same time it is candid in confessing that a man must turn his back upon the world. which is justified both objectively and theo- philosophy alone. I refer. whilst all other systems are couched in the that is to say. but to the wisdom of all ages. a sort of penal colony. when taken in its real sense. as the earliest philosophers called it. took this view. with praiseworthy courage. in his we come into this world to pay the penalty of crime committed in another state of existence a doctrine which formed part also to teach that — of the initiation into the mysteries. then. potic theism. Amongst the Christian Fathers. theoretically as well as spirit of the Old It is — practically. Faith. you cannot do better than accustom yourself to regard this world as a penitentiary. and points to the goal to which these virtues necessarily lead if they are practised in perfection.PARERGA AND PAEALIPOMENA of the will to live . their result is Judaism In this sense. 91 and the transition from the Old Testafrom the dominion of Law to that of New. My philosophy shows the metaphysical foundation of justice and the love of mankind. from the domain of sin and death to eternal ment to the life in Christ. Origen. the will to and that the denial of the tion. means. And Vanini whom his contemporaries burned. the transition from the merely moral virtues to the denial of live. to guide you through life doubt as to the right way of looking at it. finding that an easier task than — . or you want a safe compass and to banish all ipiran-jjptov. from justification by works to redemption through the Mediator. by Cicero. will to live is the way of redemp- therefore really at one with the spirit of the New Testament. called the only true doxical a statement this — which mere desmy doctrine might be Christian philosophy — however parais may seem to people who take views instead of penetrating to the heart of the superficial If matter. not to my own Empedocles and Pythagoras as remark that the wise men of old used like .

and he will follow his example and try to to isolate himself. to say nothing of indignation." " — — — also regards our existence as the consequence right sense of sin and error. from me life will In general. he will occasionally feel like some noble prisoner of state. and that the men about us are beings conceived and born in sin. their moral. intellectual and physiognomical deficiencies and the resulting base type of countenance. the society of those who form it and. its worries. I should venture to affirm that if evil spirits exist at all they have passed into human form and are now atoning for their And true Christianity using the word in its crimes. own remind him of what he has to put up with at If he has a soul above the common. word to all!' Whatever folly men com- mit. or if he is a present. . he will need no words is . for we shall never cease to reflect where we are. you will find that everything is as it should be in a world where each of us pays the penalty of exist- ence in his Amongst the evils of a peculiar way. as anything unusual or irregular. if the penal colony reader is worthy of better company. and living to atone for it. let us exercise forbearance. and cease to look upon all its disagreeable incidents. it should be said that this view of enable us to contemplate the so-called imperfec- tions of the great majority of men." were it not repugnant to the Christian religion. he says. man of genius. be their shortcomings or their vices what they may. without any surprise. That is what Christianity means in Pardon's Hip speaking of the sinful nature of man. condemned to work in the galleys with common criminals. remembering that when these • Cymbeline.92 to confute THE GERMAN CLASSICS him puts the same thing in a very forcible way. "is so full of every kind of misery that. 5. great and small. nay. its misery. Be. Man. however. its sufferings. Act v. If you accustom yourself to this view of life you will regulate your expectations accordingly.

none but the votaries of monotheistic. patience. . to be. Sir. but my fellow-sufferer. look upon suicide as a in the As This is all the more striking. In fact. and should anything come and show themselves. one and all. Jewish religions. They are faults that do not lie on the surface. and love of neighbor. regard. the conviction that the world and man is something that had better not have been is of a kind to fill us with indulgence toward one another. from this point of we might well consider the proper form of address view. and which. not Monsieur. * Parerga and Paralipomena. . after all. whose faults. Ill ON SUICIDE* far as I know. Nay. even — those very faults at which we now wax so indignant merely because they are not appearing just now in ourselves. it is true. and it is undeniable that the sum total of bad qualities is in some cases very large for the difference of individuality between man and man passes all measure. we They are the shortcomings of humanity to which belong. but exist in the very depths of our nature. Chapter XIIT. just One man. — his fellow. IT. inasmuch as neither Old nor in the New Testament is there to be found any formal prohibition or even positive disapproval of it. the most necessary thing in life the tolerance. Soci malorum. so that religious teachers are forced to base their condemcrime. that is to say. it puts others in a right light and it reminds us of that which is. every man owes to call as them forth they we now see them will in others. . may have faults that are absent in his fellow.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA faults 93 appear in others it is our follies and vices that we behold. we share yes. of which every one stands in need. but it is in keeping with the facts. mein Herr. therefore. compagnon de miseres! This may perhaps sound strange.

Suicide even accounted a crime. Who has not had acquaintances. Now let the reader's own moral feelings decide as to whether or not suicide is a criminal act. relatives. in the other case you will be moved to grief and sympathy. and you will call loudly for punishment or revenge. say. or take up their pens. and mingled with your thoughts will be admiration for his courage. These are so very bad that writers of this kind endeavor for the weakness of their arguments by the strong terms in which they express their abhorrence of the practice. the jury almost always brings in a verdict of insanity. and compare it with your feelings when you hear that he has met a voluntary death. for that reason. nonsensical remark that suicide is wrong. They tell us that suicide is the greatest piece of cowardice. While in the first case a lively sense of indignation and extreme resentment will be aroused. in a case of suicide. is followed by an ignominious burial and the seizure of the man's property. or been guilty of some act of cruelty or deception. who of their own free will have left this world. friends. Think of the impression that would be made upon you by the news that some one you knew had committed the crime. they use foul language to make up against it. and are these to be thought of with horror as criminals? Most emphatically No! I am — rather of the opinion that the clergy for once should be challenged to explain what right they have to go into the pulpit. and stamp as a crime an action which many men whom we hold in affection and . and other insipidities of the same kind or else they make the . that only a madman could be guilty of it. and a crime which. under the vulgar bigotry that prevails in Engespecially land.94 THE GERMAN CLASSICS nation of suicide on philosophical grounds of their own invention. when it is quite obvious that there is nothing in the world to which every man has a more unassailable right than to his own is life and person. rather than the moral disapproval which follows upon a wicked action. in other words. of murder or theft.

as justifying their con- who not even any philosophical arguments that will hold water and it must be understood that it is arguments we want. for he could not compass his own death. and the best of it is that every one can avail himself of it. the prohibition is ridiculous for what penalty can frighten a man who is not afraid of death If the law punishes people for trying to commit itself? off . . many heroes and wise men died a voluntary death. declared suicide to be an offense against the State. if he willed to die. it is punishing the want of skill that makes the attempt a failure. and." And elsewhere the same writer " Not even to God are all declares: things possible. even though your life has been full of abomination and crime. moreover. and yet in all the miseries of our earthly life this is the best of his gifts to man. Whoever you are. were very far from regarding " Life is not so the matter in that light. The chief of all remedies for a troubled mind is the feeling that among all the blessings which Nature gives to man there is none greater than an opportune death. when he is " So he will too prosperous. that is not an argument valid in the Church. it is true. and that we will not be put . too. and to those to refuse 95 an honorable burial no demnation of suicide They have relinquish this world voluntarily. Pliny says: desirable a thing as to be protracted at any cost. the bad man. also.PABERGA AND PARALIPOMENA honor have committed. besides. ing his life was handed the cup of hemlock by the magisAnd in ancient times how trate. in public. although not against the person. you are sure to die. and that. with mere phrases or words of abuse. If the criminal law forbids suicide. in Massilia and on the isle of the man who could give valid reasons for relinquishCeos. Biblical authority to boast of. but in Stobaeus' remark: exposition of the Peripatetic ethics there is the following " The good man should flee life when his mis: fortunes become too great." And similarly marry and beget children and take part in the affairs of the State." Nay. — nay. The ancients. Aristotle. suicide.

This and another treatise by that great man have come to us from Basle. Jewish religions. especially when it takes the form of cremation of widows. Mortimer in Maria Stuart. much the same Palmira. — in L'Orplielin de la Chine. and then. almost all the noble characters end by suicide. Yea.9G THE GERMAN CLASSICS and. again. The most thorough-going refutation of them is given by Hume in his This did not appear until after his Essay on Suicide. in our in For example. or Terzky. Countess Mahomet. The same thing occurs on the stage that mirror of life. that is to say. are weak sophisms which can easily be refuted. above all in the works of Seneca who expresses the strong- As is well known. Othello. as hundreds of passages show. the Hindoos look est approval of it. a celebrated Chinese play. he will depart to his place of refuge in the tonib." And we find that the stoics actually praised suicide as a noble and heroic action. but also when it consists in casting oneself under the wheels of the chariot of the gods at Juggernaut. But there lies the rub! The reasons. generally. death would be infinitely preferable in view of the real condition of the world. when it was immediately suppressed owing to the death. advanced against suicide by the clergy of monotheistic. or offering oneself for food to the crocodiles in the Ganges. and at any time necessity compels him. if we had any certainty of being absolutely annihilated by it. however. practise virtue and continue to live. or in the holy tanks in the temples. and so on. hence only a very few copies of it wore sold under cover of secrecy and at a high price. Is Hamlet's monologue the meditation of a criminal? He merely declares that. It is a great disgrace to the English nation that a purely . and theatre it is own — by those philosophers who adapt themselves thereto. for instance. if need be. scandalous bigotry and outrageous ecclesiastical tyranny that prevailed in England. and we may be thankful for the reprint. upon suicide as a religious act. without the slightest hint anywhere (nor does it occur to the spectator) that they are committing a crime.

nay. When a pleasures. for condemning suicide. as though it were some rascally production. If we abandon that high asceticism — point of view. he would like to live if he could do so with if he could assert his will against the power of Tbanslatob. there is no tenable reason left. it is valid only from a much ethical view-point than has ever been adopted by higher moral philosophers in Europe. he is not by any means destroying his will to live.* from aberration to a crime. XV — 7 — . until at last it found refuge on the Continent at the same time it shows what a good conscience the Church has in such matters.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA 97 philosophical treatise. taking a lower point of view. not from the sufferings of life. : — — that is to say. proceeding from one of the first thinkers and writers in England. on the score The extraordinary of morality. It is this that suicide thwarts the attainment of the highest moral aim by the fact that. it substitutes one that is merely apparent. circumstance. there is a far cry. to On himself. so that it looks as though they must have some secret reason for their contention. should be forced to sneak about in that country. the Cross ing condemns suicide as thwarting this end. Far from being a denial. moral freedom — the highest ethical aim to be obtained only by a denial of the will to live. in honor. * is May it not be this — that the — According to Schopenhauer. which. and zeal with which the clergy of monotheistic energy religions attack suicide is not supported either by any passages in the Bible or by any considerations of weight. man destroys his existence as an individual. as the clergy of Christendom wish us to regard suicide. In my chief work I have explained the only valid reason existing against suicide on the score of morality. aimed at refuting the current arguments against suicide by the light of cold reason. Vol. for a real release from this world of But misery. For it is in fleeing from the suicide is an emphatic assertion of this will. but circumstance is too strong for him. The inmost kernel of Christianity is the truth that sufferHence is the real end and object of life. that this denial consists. valid reason against suicide it involves the recognition of . satisfaction the contrary. held it in But if that is to be accounted a approval. while Christianity the ancient world.

if this tion of the will to live. all we think about is to get well. When. but as soon as the keeper into whose charge they are given leaves them for a couple of minutes they quickly bring their life to an end. as a rule. we reach . it is the destruction of the body. we become indifferent to other troubles . it distracts our thoughts. the case of those who are driven to suicide by some purely morbid and exaggerated despondency. No special effort to overcome their feelings is necessary. suicide easy. or the pain lasts a long time. a man will put an end to his life. But the terrors of death offer considerable resistance they stand like sentinels at the gate leading out of this world. However. and a man shrinks from that. nor do such people require to be worked up in order to take the step. for the bodily pain that accompanies it loses all significance in the eyes of one who is tormented by an This is especially evident in excess of mental suffering. in some dreadful and ghastly dream. if it should outweigh the other. the struggle with those sentinels is. positive about it. But there is something a sudden stoppage of existence. Perhaps there is no man alive who would not have already put an end to . It will life generally be found that. . end had been of a purely negative character. and we welcome it as It is this feeling that makes a pause in mental suffering. not so hard as it may seem from a long way off. If we are in great bodily pain. as soon as the terrors reach the point at which they outweigh the terrors of death. In the same way great mental suffering makes us insensible to bodily pain and we despise it nay. because his body is the manifestahis life.98 THE GERMAN CLASSICS life is a poor compliment for Him " 1 This offers things were very good us another instance of the forced optimism of these redenouncing suicide to escape being denounced ligions voluntary surrender of who said that " all — by of it. mainly in consequence of the antagonism between the ills of the body and the ills of the mind.

for it involves the destruction of the very consciousness which puts the question and awaits the answer. For it is only when a man if self it looks at his knowledge from all sides and combines the A things he knows by comparing truth with truth. IV ON THINKING FOR ONESELF * library may be very large but if it is in disorder. objective interest is confined to heads that think * by nature. trying to force her to an answer. Chapter XXII. that he obtains a complete hold over it and gets it into his power. moment compels us to break it off. A is but he has not worked it up by thinking it over for himhas much less value than a far smaller amount which he has thoroughly pondered. thereby banthe hideous shapes that were born of the night. . Parerga and Paralipomena. it awakes us. man cannot turn over anything in his mind unless he it. ishing Life is a dream and when the moment of greatest horror all . learn something. or merely subjective. .PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA the 99 of greatest horror. The latter comes into play in things only that concern us personally. . therefore. Suicide may also be regarded as an experiment a question which man puts to Nature. the same thing happens. he should. The question is this: What change will death — produce in a man's existence and in his insight into the nature of things? It is a clumsy experiment to make. This interest may be of purely objective kind. but it is it over that he can be said to know Reading and learning are things that any one can do of his own free will but not so thinking. II. it not so useful as one that is small but well arranged. it must be sustained by kindled. Thinking must be like a fire by a draught. some interest in the matter in hand. knows only when he has turned it. In the same way a man may have a great mass of knowledge.

impress a single definite thought upon his mind. but they are This is why most men of learning show so little whom it. The mind is through the process of reading entirely under compulsion from without it is driven to think this or that. in Pope's words own is to take up a book every It is this practise else to do. but merely gives the matter and occasion which lead him to think what is appropriate to his nature and present temper. it is Men they who have enlightened the world and carried humanity further on its way. But when of his either a man thinks own mind. 194. to the drift What I mean thoughts upon the mind as the seal is to the — thoughts is that reading forces alien which are as foreign and temper in which it may be for the moment wax on which it stamps its imprint. as reading does.100 to THE GERMAN CLASSICS thinking is as natural as breathing. which by his is for himself he follows the impulse determined for him at the time The visible environment or some particular recollection. world of a man's surroundings does not. It carries on and intensifies that original difference in the nature of two minds which leads the one to think and the the It is incredible what a different effect is other to read. of produced upon mind by thinking for oneself. pressure. as compared with reading. and precludes their writings from obtaining any measure of success. Thinkers and men of genius are those who have gone straight to the book of Nature. So it is it is that much reading deprives the mind of all elasticity. . though for the moment it may not have the slightest impulse . — For ever reading. They remain. or inclination to do so. never to read! * in the of learning are those who have done their reading pages of a book. very rare. iii. The like keeping a spring continually under safest way of having no thoughts of one's moment one has nothing which explains why erudition makes most men more stupid and silly than they are by nature. • Dunciad.

the precise shade.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA If a 101 man's thoughts are to have truth and life in thein. into the whole system of our thought. a living member. man may have discovered some portion of truth or wisdom after spending a great deal of time and trouble A it over for himself and adding thought to thought and it may sometimes happen that he could have found it all ready to hand in a book and spared himself the trouble but. A man should read only when his own thoughts stagnate at their source. after all. they must. To read another's thoughts is like taking the leav- ings of a meal to which we have not been invited. it is a hundred times more valuable if he has acquired it by thinking it out for himself. For it is only when we gain our knowledge in this way that it enters as an integral part. possesses the only compass by which he can steer aright. — . it means putting the mind into leading- strings. Besides. But he who is guided by his genius. that it stands in complete and firm relation with what we know that it is understood with all that underlies it and follows from it that it wears in thinking . be his own fundamental thoughts for these are the only ones that he can fully and wholly understand. the color. or putting on the clothes wmich some unknown visitor has laid aside. . even so. it is like running away from Nature to look at a herbarium of dried plants or gaze at a landscape in copperplate. Reading is nothing more than a substitute for inde- pendent thinking. to take up a book for the purpose of scaring away one's own original thoughts is sin against the Holy Spirit. the distinguishing mark. of our own way of thinking that it comes exactly at the right . . and how widely astray a man many may wander if he follows any of them. The thought we read which springs up is as slightly related to the thought in ourselves as the fossil-impress of some prehistoric plant is to a plant budding forth in springtime. which will happen often enough even with the best of minds. many books serve only to show how false paths there are. he who thinks for himself spontaneously and exactly. . On the other hand.

But the book-philosopher starts from the authorities. : nay. The intellectual attainments of a man who thinks for himself resemble a fine painting. a waxen nose .102 time. ing are like a large palette. — nose made out of another's flesh. connection. Reading is thinking with some one else's head instead of one's own. even aim at developing a coherent whole it be not a strictly complete one and nothing hinders though — . like a ficial limb. full of all sorts of colors. * Faust. where the light and shade are correct. the interpretation. Truth made one's own merely by learning is like an artiat best. when they serve but to strengthen his belief in them and in himself. This is the perfect application. the intellectual attainments of the mere man of learn. it is true to life. For the work comes into being as a man does the thinking mind is impregnated from without. collects their opinions. To think with one's own head is always to a system. the tone sustained. it adheres to us only But truth acquired by thinking of because it is put on. um es zu besitzen* The man who thinks for himself forms his own opinions and learns the authorities for them afterward. On the other hand. of Goethe's advice to earn our inheritance for ourselves so that we may really possess it Was du Erivirb ererbt von dienen Vatern hast. and it then forms and bears its child. the color perfectly harmonized. and meaning. and so builds for himself a form which resembles an automaton made up of anything but flesh and blood. necessity for it that it stands fast and cannot be forgotten. es. Contrarily. he who thinks for himself creates a work like a living man as made by Nature. i. he reads other people's books. which at most are systematically arranged but are devoid of harmony. just as THE GERMAN CLASSICS we felt the . a false tooth. our own is like a natural limb it really belongs to us. This is the fundamental difference between the thinker and the mere man of learning. . 829.

after all. by means of experience. or conviction. their lives in independent other hand. and a small amount of reading. and tinged with different colors. and it makes them inferior in sound sense. and no fundamental note is heard at all. great deal about it. like the bass in an organ. and practical tact. And in the process. but. his mind is nevertheless strong enough to master it all. and so to make it fit in with the organic unity of his insight. they alone . which. those who have spent thinking resemble the travelers themselves. as it were. These thoughts. mingle confusedly.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA this so 103 as too strong a current of others' thoughts. fill the head with a Babylonian confusion of tongues. have always subordinated it to. or insight. On the and profound knowledge of its real condition. The really scientific thinker does the same thing as these illiterate persons. such as conies of continual reading. are like people who have obtained precise information about a country from the Such people can tell a descriptions of many travelers. The mind that is overloaded with alien . and so wellnigh disorganized. is always growing. after obtaining a little knowledge from without. but. his own thought. springing every one of them from different minds. their own thought. Those who have spent their lives in reading and have taken their wisdom from books. to assimilate and incorporate it with the system of his thoughts. and embodied it with. rather. and is never drowned by other tones. have no connected. clear. in every key. thought is thus deprived of all clear insight. belong- much ing to different systems. but on a larger scale. This is a state of things observable in many men of learning. though vast. always dominates everything. never of themselves flow together into an intellectual whole they never form a unity of knowledge. to many illiterate persons who. where shreds of music. Although he has need of much knowledge and so must read a great deal. correct judgment. intercourse with others. as happens with minds which are full of mere antiquarian lore.

merely expressing the result of their own objective perception of to There are many passages in my works which I have given to the public only after some hesitation. The thinker stands in the same relation to the ordinary book-philosopher that an eye-witness does to the historian. men — they cannot — A always be summoned we must wait for thorn to come. person has said and another meant. criticises. for if he would only examine the matter for himself he would speedily attain his object by the exercise different opinions. and afterward I have experienced a pleasant surprise in finding the same opinion recorded in the works of great men who lived long ago. they are acquainted with the actual state of affairs.104 really THE GERMAN CLASSICS know what they are talking about. and matter. The differences they present are due to their different points of view. all much the same conclusion. That is why he speaks from direct personal knowledge. and questions The curious student of such matters may of a like nature. Thought about a subject must appear of itself. in the last analysis. ponders. herein he is on For instance. because of their paradoxical nature. and in the same author's Letters on Freedom. by a happy and harmonious combination of external stimulus with mental . It is with think. but not of a little thoughts as with at pleasure. always sit down and read. merely reports what one things. tries to get at the truth of the a par with the critical historian. The book-philosopher. and when these do not affect the matter they all speak alike. He compares way — But there is a small difficulty in the Herbart's Analytical Elucidation of Morality and Natural Right. Surprise may be felt that a man of this kind should put himself to so much trouble. find conspicuous examples of what I mean. he will set out to inquire whether Leibnitz was not for some time a follower of Spinoza. and are quite at home on the subject. those who think for themselves come. the objections raised by a third. however. and so on. man can it does not depend upon his own will.

to keep our mind fixed upon the subject. . . Therefore. for. as we A moment. It often comes unexpectedly and returns again and again and the variety of temper in which we approach it at different moments puts the matter always in a fresh light. It is this slow process " a " For which is understood by the term ripe resolution. Least of all should a man quite withdraw his gaze from the real world for the mere sake of reading. man must wait for the right find. on a closer inspection. but wait for the proper frame of mind to come of itself. by following an alien course of thought. as I have said. Aversion to the . we cannot wr ell sit down at any given and think over the merits of the case and make mind often find ourselves unable. since in the process much that is overlooked at one moment occurs to us at another and the repugnance vanishes when the . that things are not so bad as they seemed. we matter in question is sometimes to blame for this. grow a stranger to his own. which. or. we usually do. if we try to do so. When moment up our necessary to come to some resolution in a matter of that kind. as the impulse and the temper which prompt to thought of . or would not form the habit of walking in well-worn paths. and yet that is always done in a manner not our own. it wanders off to other things. is a substitute for thought for it brings stuff to the mind by letting . is capable of thinkfor itself at all times hence a great mind does well to ing spend its leisure in reading. 105 it is just that which never seems This truth it may be illustrated by what happens in the case of matters affecting our is own personal interest. Not even the greatest mind another person do the thinking. work of coming to a resolution must be distributed.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA temper and attention and to come to these people. at that particular moment. This rule applies to the life of the intellect as well as to matters of practice. a man should not read too much if he would not have his mind become accustomed to the substitute and thereby forget the reality. In such a case we should not use force.

nay. Everything it this they may be known advances is the result of thinking for itself. on the thoughts and expressions. A truly capa- ble it mind always knows to express. lets it be seen that everything he has is secondhand. collected into a heap from all quarters. other hand. The works of all truly capable minds are distinguished a character of decision and definiteness. or Other minds are not decisive and not definite. it will not be matter for surprise that a man who thinks for himself can easily be dis- tinguished from the book-philosopher by the character of his delivery.106 one's THE GERMAN CLASSICS own come far oftener from the world of reality than from the world of books. by his marked earnestness. and the genuineness of its strength can more easily than anything else rouse and influence the thinking mind. a reprint of a reprint. that his ideas are like the lumber and trash of an old furniture-shop. After these considerations. because it has no coinage of its own. it is as though the mouth were to claim the whole credit of maintaining the body in health. The characteristic sign of a mind of the highest order that it always judges at first hand. verse. Mere experience can as little as reading supply the place — of thinking. and personal conviction that stamp all his The book-philosopher. When experience boasts that to its discoveries alone is due the advancement of human knowledge. Mentally. and by is for what they are. wants music. and this is . definitely and clearly what it is that whether its medium is prose. The real life that a man sees before him is the natural subject of thought. in It stands to thinking in the same relation which eating stands to digestion and assimilation. directness. vulgar in this phrases. which means by that they are clear and free from obscurity. and the originality. and terms that happen to be current much like a small State where all the money respect being that circulates is foreign. he is dull and pointless — His literary style is made up of conventional.

pleasant. felicitous. They will his attack by bringing up their authorities as a way of abashing him argumentum ad verecundiam out that they have won the battle. as Seneca says. Every one who really thinks for himself is so far like a monarch. we always live subject to the law of gravity. which we have constantlv to overcome. which has no independent stamp of its own. troversies such people make a promiscuous use of the weapon of authority and strike out at one another with it. whereas the authority of minds of a lower order is delegated only. but in the world of intellect we are disembodied spirits. The myriads of common minds. authorities. In their con- meet flood of incapacity for thinking and judging. be it never so fair. Thus it is that . His judgments. are monarch who silently obey the law settle and accept their orders from above. laboring under . prejudices. Such a mind is like a Prince. all sorts like the subjects of a of current opinions. Those who are so zealous and eager to debated questions by citing authorities are really glad when they are able to put the understanding and insight of others into the field in place of their own which are wanting. as may be seen in their style. The number of these is legion. free from the law of gravity and not subject to distress. with a skin of horn. spring from his own sovHe ereign power and proceed directly from himself. If any one chances to become involved in such a contest he will do well not to try reason and argument as a mode of defense for against a weapon of that kind these people are like Siegfrieds. as little as a monarch admits a acknowledges authority command he subscribes to nothing but what he has himself authorized. His position is undelegated and supreme. there is no man but prefers belief to the exercise of judgment — — unusquisque mavult credere quani judicare. cry — — and then and In the world of reality. like royal decrees. In the realm of intellect its authority is imperial.PAREROA AND PARALIPOMENA 107 everywhere evident by the way in which it gives its thoughts utterance. For. and dipped in the .

Lichtenberg is an example for the former class Herder already belongs to the second. There are plenty of thoughts which are valuable to the thinks them. with few and rare exceptions. But still it must not be forgotten that a true value attaches only to what a man has thought in the first instance for himself. and live on. they want to seem that which they are not. and the dar- — ! ling of being deserted if we do not marry her. we fancy we shall never forget the thought nor but out of sight. fleetthe problem of existence so vast and so close that ing. When one considers how vast and how close to us is . they are the true philosophers. Thinkers may be classed according as they think chiefly for themselves or for others. The presence of a thought is like the presence of a woman we love.108 THE GERMAN CLASSICS there exists no happiness on earth like that which. dreamlike existence of ours — — a obscures sooner discovers it than it overshadows and other problems and aims. tortured. and when one considers how all men. To which — belongs may be seen by his whole style and manner. nay. but only few of them which have enough strength to produce repercussive or reflex action I mean. and seek their happiness in what they hope to get from the world they are in earnest about nothing else. they alone are in earnest the pleasure and the happiness of their existence consist in thinking. of these two classes a man this equivocal. either expressly discarding the prob- . have no clear consciousness of this problem. to win the reader's sympathy after they have been man who — put on paper. at the auspicious moment. out become indifferent to the dear one of mind The finest thought runs the risk of being irrevocably forgotten if we do not write it down. The former are the genuine. a fine and fruitful mind finds in itself. seem to be quite unaware of its presence but busy themselves with everyall man no thing rather than with this. are the sophists. taking no thought but for the passing day and the hardly longer span of their own personal future. independent thinkers. The others .

at any rate. rather. one may — to the opinion that man may be said to be a thinking being only in a very remote sense and henceforth will feel no special surprise at any trait of human thoughtlessness come but will know.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA 109 lem or else over-ready to come to terms with it by adopting some system of popular metaphysics and letting it satisfy them when. corroborated by the way in supposed. to announce of themselves. Chapter XXIII. * t Translator. — - though not such an immeasurable distance as is generally This is. and is more infalTo imitate another man's lible than that of the body. But. as it were. so that it is impossible for them to sus- tain a connected conversation. which most men converse. — . therefore he must needs keep his ears always open. Schopenhauer refers to the (Tracking of -whips. I say. like the rest. is style is like wearing a mask. by night as by day. in fact. man is a poor animal. she would not have given him ears at all or. with no consciousness of the past or the future or folly. If this world were peopled by really thinking beings it could never be that noise of every kind would be allowed such generous limits. one takes all this to heart. that the normal man's intellectual range of vision does indeed extend beyond that of the brute whose whole existence is. a continual present. II. the approach of the pursuer. she would have furnished them — with air-tight flaps. Parerga and Paralipomena. which. in truth. be it never so fine. like chaff.* If nature had meant man to think. and his powers are meant only to maintain him in the struggle for existence. such as are the enviable possession of the bat. as is the case with the most horrible and at the same time aimless form of it. V ON STYLE t Style is the physiognomy of the mind. their thoughts being chopped up fine.

Bacon. beginning from the language of the Greeks down to that of the Caribbean islanders. to begin with. the language in which a man writes is the physiognomy of the nation to which he belongs but here there are many hard and fast differences. who have not condescended to any sort of imita- tion. Every mediocre writer tries to mask his own natural style. observe their physiognomy too — he cannot see their With the Latin works of writers who think for themselves the case different and their style visible — writers. He wanted to find out ingly incongruous answer: by the man's pace the distance he would cover in a given time. the dough out of which all the contents of his mind are kneaded. may be precisely determined by his style. or what it is that he has said about it. the say. A man's style shows the formal nature of all his thoughts the formal nature which can never change. In the same way. which means the essential temper or general quality of his mind. Petrarch. Further. it is not directly necessary to know the subject on which he has thought. he gave the seemWalk. . Descartes. is is reader. it is. hears what they but he cannot I mean. therefore even the ugliest living face is better. because in his heart he knows the truth of what I . style. Hence those who wrote in Latin and copy the manner of the ancients may be said to speak through a mask. be the subject or the character of his thoughts what it may. because it is lifeless. Spinoza.110 THE GERMAN CLASSICS not long in arousing disgust and abhorrence. to know how he has thought this. that would imply a perusal of all his works. when I have read a few pages of an author. it is true. It will be enough. — . One ought to discover stylistic mistakes in the writings of others in order to avoid them in his own. I know fairly well how far he can bring me. When Eulenspiegel was asked how long it would take to walk to the next village. as it were. and many others. To form a provisional estimate of the value of a writer's productions. such as Scotus Erigena. And affectation in style is like making grimaces.

as though the Lord knows what amount of endeavor were necessary to make the reader understand the deep meaning of their sentences. were they to do so. If they would only go honestly to work. in short. in order to give people the impression that there is very much more in it than for the moment meets the eye. they try to write in some particular . and its value. they coin new words and write prolix periods which go round and round the thought and wrap it up in a sort of disguise. whereas it is some quite simple if not actually trivial idea examples of which may be found in plenty in the popular works of Fichte. it would not be without look very simple. and paradoxical sentences. the few things they have really thought and just as they have thought them. say. because they have a notion that. which apparently much more than they really say of this kind of writing Schilling's treatises on natural philosophy are a splendid instance. they try to make the reader believe that their thoughts have gone much further and deeper than is really the case. within their own proper sphere. instead of this. quite simply. or. at the outset. Their object is to dress it up so that it may look learned or deep. They say what they have to say in long sentences that wind about in a forced and unnatural way. conscious of their own — worth and therefore sure of themselves. They tremble between the two separate aims of communicating what they want to say and of concealing it. their work might possibly For all that. ambiguous. They either jot down their thoughts bit by bit. But. and the philosophical manuals of a hundred other miserable dunces not worth hint at — — mentioning. these writers would be readable and. or else they hold forth with a deluge of words and the most intolerable diffusiveness. 111 He is thus forced. even instructive.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA am saying. to give up a privilege which at being absolutely frank any attempt is reserved for superior minds. again. What I mean is that these mediocre writers are absolutely unable to resolve upon writing just as they think.

nay. turns of phrase. as though they were putting on the mask of intellect? This mask may possibly deceive the inexperienced for a while.112 style THE GERMAN CLASSICS which they have been pleased to take up and think very distinguished. at another. par excellence profound and scientific. and prolix style. where it seems as though their object were to go crazy altogether and so on in many other cases. It is amusing to see how writers with this object in view will attempt first one mannerism and then another. for example. whether new or used in a new sense. and by means of odd expressions. they write know what it is down words. to produce the appearance of clever thought in chandise that is trying to make order to make up for the very painfully-felt lack of it. where the reader is tormented to death by the narcotic effect of long-spun periods without a single idea in them such as are furnished in a special measure by those most impudent of all mortals. only in a modern dress. but this is only in Germany. severe. fresh openings for always itself. on the very next page. And then. . too. without attaching any meaning to them themselves. as though he were tipsy. profound. a style. the Hegelians or it may be that it is a genial style they have striven after. until it is seen to be a dead thing. All these endeavors to put off the nascetur ridiculus mus to avoid the funny little creature that is born after such showing — . And what is at the bottom of all this? Nothing but the untiring effort to sell words for thoughts a mode of mer. . nay. whither it was introduced by Fichte. Longest of all mask of unintelligibility. and combinations of every sort. perfected by lasts the . even whole sentences. — mighty throes — often make it difficult to that they really mean. stumbling on in the most cumbrous way and chopping up everything very small like the late — Christian Wolf. with no life in it at all Such an it is then laughed at and exchanged for another. but in the hope that some one else will get sense out of them. author will at one moment write in a dithyrambic vein. his learning will assume the pompous.

is that the author should have something to it Ah. XV — 8 . who — attractive. for that allows him to show himself as he is. while lack of naturalness is everywhere repulAs a matter of fact we find that every real thinker sive. but with sham-thinkers the thoughts are supposed to be fine because of the style. Simplicity has always been held to be a mark of truth. there is nothing against which a writer should be more upon his guard than the manifest endeavor to exhibit more wit than he really has. because this makes the reader suspect that he possesses very little. . to be naive is to be But those authors in metal. fused brain. it means that he need not shrink from showing himself as he is. definitely.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA Schilling. Rather than do that. how much means ! The neglect of this rule is Vol. All the arts and tricks I have been mentioning are rendered superfluous if the author really has any brains. it is also a mark of genius. just as. The good say. first rule. and that which can never the place of gold have any substitute. then. I have named are like certain workers a hundred different compounds to take try the one metal. Style is nothing but the mere silhouette of and an obscure or bad style means a dull or conthought tries to express his and shortly as possible. nothing is more difficult than to express deep thoughts in such a way that every one must necessarily grasp them. and confirms to all time Horace's maxim that good sense is the source and origin of good style est et — Scribendi reete sapere principium et form. And yet nothing easier than to write so that no one can understand. since as a rule man only affects to have that which he really does not possess. clearly. Generally speaking. That is why it is praise to an author to say that he is naive. contrarily. Style receives its beauty from the thought it expresses. and almost sufficient in itself for a style. thoughts as purely. 113 and carried is to its highest pitch in Hegel — always with the best results.

and no other. the other hand. called le stile empese. because his object is to awake the very same thought in the reader that he happens to have in himself. and have formed the habit of readpeople ing page upon page of all sorts of such verbiage. also of that prolix and cumbrous manner of expression. So he will be able to affirm really with Boileau that his thoughts are everywhere open to the and that his verse always says something. he has is On and truly something to say. Such ligent an author. and now it is current everywhere. even say — whereas among the first literary notables of the age. when he writes. more These scribblers all let it be seen my had something to have nothing to say. which clacks away like a stuff which a man may windmill and quite stupefies one — read for hours together without getting hold of a single expressed and definite idea. It is the mother of that strained and vague style where there seem to be two or even more meanings in the sentence. soon wins his reader's confidence that. and. whether it says it well or ill light of day. . They fancy it is all as it should be. and fail to discover that clearly he writing simply for writing's sake. German are easy-going. again. and this gives the intelreader patience to follow him with attention. will never fail to express himself in the simplest and most straightforward manner. — Ma Et mon pensce au grand jour partout s' offre et s' expose. in fundamental fact.114 a THE GERMAN CLASSICS trait in the philosophical writing. a good author. of that mere waste of words which consists in pouring them out like a flood. of that trick of concealing the direst poverty of thought under a farrago of never-ending chatter. bien ou mal. finally. that they want to appear as though they country. Writing really they of this kind was brought in by the pseudo-philosophers at the universities. just because he really has something to say. vers. without having any particular idea of what the author really means. dit toujours quelque chose. fertile in ideas. However. in all the reflective literature of especially since Fichte.

The . in the words of the same poet. which is the source of all evidence. and a particularly ridiculous one is afforded by the use of the verb to condition in the ' l ' ' "to cause " or "to produce. while with other nations it is merely the effect of that national tendency by which everything that is stupid in literature or ill-mannered in life is immediately imitated a fact proved in either case by the rapid way in which it — spreads. A back door is always left open. in order to leave a loophole for escape in case — Hence thev never fail to choose the more abstract while people with real wit use the more concrete." because sense of . consequence of this state of things is that the word " cause " has during the last ten years or so almost dis- appeared from the language of literature. because the latter brings things more within the range of actual clearness. word." People say " to condition something" instead of "to cause it. that they talk much and never say anything at all qui parlant beaucoup ne disent jamais rien. Another characteristic of snch writers is that they always avoid positive expressions wherever they can possibly do so. and people talk only of "condition. being abstract and indefinite it says less it affirms that A cannot happen without B. instead of that A is caused by B. The Englishman uses his own judgment in what he writes as well as in what he does but there is no nation of which this eulogy is less true than of the Germans. The very fact that these commonplace authors are never more than half -conscious when they write would be enough it is cause to account for their dullness of mind and the tedious things they produce. I say they are only half-conscious. There are many examples proving this preference for abstract expression. because . and this suits people whose secret knowledge of their own incapacity inspires them with a perpetual terror of all positive expression.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA 115 while of the writers previously described it may be asserted." The fact is worth mentioning beso characteristically ridiculous. of need.

all is done mechanically. of a so certain kind of literature. it is the omnipresence of intellect that always and everywhere characterizes the work of genius. however. On the other hand a man of real genius really speaks to us when he writes. The same distinction may be observed in music. and furnishes therefore every- . make the general remark that there are two kinds of tediousness. The fact is — that they do not possess the die to give this stamp to their writing. we must. that is to say. words together with a full conalone who puts individual sciousness of their meaning and chooses them with deliberate design. consequently his style stands to that of the writer described above much as a picture that has been really painted to one that has been produced by the use of In the one case. Hence. the result hackneyed terms and fashionable expressions that the foggy stuff they write is like a page printed being — with very old type. current phrases. it is not so much words as whole phrases that they put together phrases ban-ales. in the every other. he endeavors to communicate the same in a straight line. And what do we find in its place? — vague. every word. enigmatical intermixture of words. and that is why he is able to rouse our It is the genial author interest and commune with us. when they write. a stencil. an work is objectively tedious objective and subjective one. With regard to the tediousness above alluded to. this is the explanation of that palpable lack of clearly expressed thought in what they say. they take words ready-made and commit them to memory. clear thought of their own is just what a they do not possess. has a special purpose. For just as Lichtenberg says that Garrick's soul seemed to be in every muscle in his body. as in the painting touch of the brush.116 THE GERMAN CLASSICS they really do not themselves understand the meaning of the words they use. when it contains the defect in question when its author has no perfectly clear thought or knowl- A — edge to communicate. For if a man has any clear thought or knowledge in him.

— to this or that particular person. nor confused. but they do just the opposite. in literature — King Henry IV. in a word not In such a case. The subjective of tediousness is only relative a reader may find a work dull because he has no interest in the subject. They take so much pleasure in bombast. and write in such a high-down.. or in the writer of the book. the most far-fetched. bloated. and is. hyperbolical and acrobatic style that their prototype is Ensign Pistol. but the thing itself this exists all the more often. grand and primness are in society and equally intolerable. is . and to clothe their very ordinary thoughts in the most extraordinary phrases. Their senunnatural. neither diffused nor unmeaning. Act V. When associated with affecta- tion airs. and this means that his intellect is restricted. be tedious subjectively tedious. Part II. so that it is at least formally correct. consequently. Authors should use common words to say uncommon things. the error is at any rate clearly worked out and well thought over. . bottom in error. and out-of-the-way expressions. It would generally serve our German writers in good stead if they would see that. We find them trying to wrap up trivial ideas in grand words. but for the same reason a work that is objectively tedious at all times devoid of any value whatever. therefore. Scene 3. if possible.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA 117 where ideas clearly coined. conthe worst work may be subjectively engrossing to trarily. affected. this or that particular person who has an interest in the I mean. just as. it is what assumption of dignity. think like a great genius. even though the author is at tedious. whom his friend Falstaff once impatiently told to say what he had to say like a man of world* There is no expression in the German language exactly answering to the French stile empese. question treated of. whilst a man should. he should talk the same language as every one else. tences perpetually stalk about on stilts. and thus some value always attaches to the work. The best work may.

for this gives a pedantic effect to what one says. . and at the same time to makes one hardly intelligible. just as in stupid people who like being demure and is An who author who dresses himself writes in the prim style resembles a man up in order to avoid being confounded a risk never run or put on the same level with the mob by the gentleman. Often. When a right thought springs up in the mind. and. An obscure and vague manner of expression is always and everywhere a very bad sign. they have only a dull consciousness of it. and unamThose writers who construct difficult. There is no style of writing that should not have a certain trace of kinship with the lapidary style. he is also always able to express it in clear. for clear thought easily finds words to fit it. an author follows a false aim if he tries to write exactly as he speaks. involved. the commonplace writer is betrayed by his prim style. most certainly do not know aright what it is that they want to say. even in his worst clothes. to speak as one writes. They wish to appear as is the case with Fichte. it strives after clearness and is not long in reaching it. biguous terms. Schelling. and Hegel. fond of donning this dress. The plebeian may be known by a certain showiness of attire and a wish — have everything spick and span. indeed. For to write as one speaks is just as reprehensible as the opposite fault. which is. to think what they do not think. and this again almost always means that there is something radiin cally wrong and incongruous about the thought itself — a word. indeed. Nevertheless. that it is incorrect. their desire is to conceal from themselves and others that they really have nothing at all to say. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred it comes from vagueness of thought. in the same way. to say what they do not say. to know what they do not know.118 THE GERMAN CLASSICS life it is Dullness of mind ordinary formal. the ancestor of all styles. and equivocal sentences. obscure. If a man is capable of thinking anything at all. intelligible. still struggling for a thought.

An author should. it is true. It is always better to omit something good than to add what is not worth This is the right application of Hesiod's saying at all. and attention. much always defeats means when he says its purpose. This is Accordingly. many the substantive. and the business of the critical faculty. To find where the point lies is the problem of style. serve to make but only up to a certain point. obscurior quo quisque deterior. the reader's time. he should know whether he wants to say a thing or not. he will spare thereby convince him that what he writes is worth careful A study and will reward the time spent upon it. more obscurely he will write faciliora sint ad intelligendum et the — plerumque * * accidit ut lucidiora multo quce a Erit ergo etiam quoque dicuntur. if thought intelligible words are heaped up beyond it the thought becomes more and more obscure. It is this indecision of style that makes our German writers doctissimo so insipid * — the only exception to this rule arising when remarks are made that are in some way improper.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA 119 If a man has some real communication to make. patience. — for a the word too what Voltaire that the adjective is as we have seen. so words. further. But. izkiov tjnuru izdvros the half is more than the whole. enemy of writers try to conceal their poverty of thought under a flood of verbiage. which will he choose an indistinct or a clear way of expressing him- — Already Quintilian remarks that things which are said by a highly educated man are often easier to understand and much clearer and that the less educated man is. all insertion writer must of unimportant remarks not worth perusal. etre ennuyeux c 'est de tout dire. avoid enigmatical phrases. let all redundancy be avoided. To use . As exaggeration generally produces an effect the opposite of that aimed at. self? . — Le secret secret to be tiresome is to say everything: if possible. Therefore. pour Mere leading thoughts! Nothing the quintessence only! The that the reader would and could think for himself. maxim.

what declamation on the vanity of human existence could ever be more telling is many words the communicate few thoughts . compatible even with the highest degree of sublimity. For instance. but that all the effect of what is said comes from the thing itself. like a flower. he must strive after — Every word that can be spared is hurtThe law of simplicity and naivete holds for it is good of all fine arts. It shows lamentable want of judgment to weaken the expression of a thought or to stunt even the meaning of a period for the sake of using a few words less. again. partly because it then takes unobsimple. As in archi- tecture an excess of decoration is to be avoided. and never continueth in one stay. structed possession of the hearer's whole soul. On the other hand. to say nothing of grammar. This involves correct discrimination between what is necessary and what is superfluous.120 THE GERMAN CLASSICS to everywhere unmistakable sign of mediocrity. True brevity of expression consists in everywhere saying only what is worth saying. because he feels that here he is not being deluded or cheated by the arts of rhetoric. Truth is most beautiful undraped. amplification. he fleeth as it were a shadow. and leaves no by-thought to distract him partly. so in the art of literature a writer must guard against all rhetorical finery. a writer ought never to sacrifice clearness to brevity. and is cut down. that — makes many popular songs so affecting. and all superfluity of in a word. ful if it remains. and the impression it produces is deep in proportion as its expression has been This is so. also." For the same reason Goethe's naive poetry is incomparably greater than Schiller's rhetoric. " Man that is bom of a woman than the words of Job? He hath but a short time to live and is full of misery. To gather much thought into few words stamps the man of genius. it is this. But this is the precise endeavor of that false brevity now- . all useless expression in general chastity of style. cometh up. and in avoiding tedious detail about things which every one can supply for himself.

Stuttgart Tit?: Hans Thoma BOWMEN .Permission Deutsche Verlags-Anst alt.


in many other respects. Nowadays in Germany It is false brevity. instead of contracting his words and forms of speech. or feeble. luminous. ing. Therefore. and as if groping in the dark until one reaches at last the final word and begins to see daylight. If a writer's ideas are important. and make these in all their parts both it It is grammatically and lexicographically complete and so much will this be the case that no one will ever find them hollow. they turn it into a conundrum which the reader tries to solve by going over again and again. they will necessarily furnish matter and substance enough to fill out the periods which give them expression. become thin through illness and finds his clothes too large. an unseemly economy of speech. Let me here mention an error of style very prevalent nowadays. always on the increase. it is not by cutting them down but by recovering his usual bodily condition that he ought to make them fit him again. and even unfold and move about with grace. the bad scribblers are seized by the mania of and use it with incredible lack of understand- not only that such writers in order to spare a word make a single verb or adjective do duty for several different periods. which proceeds by leaving out usewords. and. in the degraded state of literature and the neglect of ancient languages. but they also practise. empty. and generally worth communicating. that gives brevity to style and makes it concise and pregnant. I mean subjectivity. yea by sacrificing grammar and logic. If a man has . The diction will everywhere be brief and pregnant and allow the thought to find intelligible and easy expression. let a writer enlarge his thoughts.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA ful 121 adays so much in vogue. in the effort to effect what they foolishly take to be brevity of expression and conciseness of style. wealth and weight of thought. and nothing else. A writer commits this error when he thinks it enough if he himself knows what he means and . By omitting something that might have thrown a light over the whole sentence. which one has to read through without understanding them.

and it will not be objective unless the words — are so set down that they directly force the reader to think precisely the same thing as the author thought when he wrote them. and strongest expression for them just as for sacred relics or priceless works of art It was there are provided silvern or golden receptacles. and takes no thought for the reader who is left to get at the bottom of it as best he can.its working than spots on the wall. If he does this. which look like figures only to one whose phantasy has been accidentally aroused by them. too." This means just the oppo- For example. Style should for this very reason never be subjective. finest. and is nonsense as well. a writer's words will have a purely objective effect. in which he ought to be a dialogue must express himself all the more clearly for the very reason that he cannot hear the questions of Ms interlocutor. in a recently published work I found the fol" I have not written in order to increase sentence lowing the number of existing books. This is as though the author were holding a monologue. — this feeling that led the ancients. truth and importance of his thoughts that he feels the enthusiasm necessary for an untiring and assidous effort to find the clearest. but objective. : site of what the writer wanted to say.122 THE GERMAN CLASSICS wants to say. He who writes carelessly confesses thereby at the very outset that he does not attach much importance to his own For it is only where a man is convinced of the thoughts. Nor will this result be obtained unless the author has always been careful to remember that thought so far follows the law of gravity that it travels from head to paper much more easily than from paper to head. but it shows itself also in particular instances. The difference in question applies to the art of representation as a whole. expressed . whose thoughts. other people see nothing but spots and blurs. whilst the subjective style is not much more certain in. like that of a finished oil painting. whereas it and a dialogue. therefore he must facilitate the latter passage by every means in his power.

bad style shows an offensive lack of regard for the reader. always to write with care. careless. into court in dressing- gown and How carefully written. distinguish themselves from other nations through slovenliness of style and dress. I put it away. because. it is free from the * It is a fact worth mentioning that the first twelve words of the Republic are placed in the exact order which would be natural in English. at first. have therefore bear the honored title lived thousands of years and of classics. If I see a man badly and dirtily dressed. Good writing should be governed by the rule that a man can think only one thing clearly at a time.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA in their 123 own words. indeed. therefore. pushing into the gaps thus made two or three other thoughts by way of parenthesis. No prose reads more easily or pleasantly than French. however. Plato. done when a writer breaks up his principal sentence into little pieces. who then rightly punishes it by refusing to read the book. on the other hand. that he should not be expected to think two or even more But this is what is things in one and the same moment. on taking up a book. It is especially amusing their It is as to see reviewers criticising the own most careless style to — the works of others in though a judge were slippers! come style of a hireling. thereby unnecesAnd here it is sarily and wantonly confusing the reader. . are The Edinburgh Review and Le Journal des Savants. But as neglect of dress betrays want of respect for the company a man meets. so when. but does not justify it. as a rule.* The Germans. That again my own countrymen German lends itself more than all other living languages to this way of writing makes the procedure possible. is said to have written the introduction to his Republic seven times over in different ways. so a hasty. in entering into conversation with him. I feel some hesitation. and. and the carelessness in both these directions has its common origin in our national character. — Translator. who are chiefly in fault. I am struck at once by the negligence of its style.

which is then carried to perfection by the use of high-flown. or padded out like roast geese stuffed with apples. on the other hand. In this way an author lays the foundation of his stile empese. exerting only his memory. as though they were the pieces of a torn letter. The German.* This kind of sentence furnishes the reader with mere half- phrases. order. he demands from the reader that he shall set the above-mentioned rule at defiance. the fault itself exists none the less. and this because he wants to say six things His once. however. and think three or four different thoughts at one and the same time or. but. instead of advancing them one by one. as far as he can. though in a diUVrent form. He • is therefore expected to go on reading for a little with- out exercising any thought. above and beyond neglect of this aim. aim should be to attract and hold the reader's attention. Translator. in the most logical and natural together. to the end that every one of them may receive undivided attention. In those long sentences rich in involved parentheses. It does so by the use of a construction very common in German. while it is the understanding and the judg- ment which should be called into play.124 THE GERMAN CLASSICS The Frenchman strings Iris thoughts defect in question. in This sentence in the oripinal is obviously meant to illustrate the fault which it speaks. pompous expressions to communicate the simplest things. which he is then called upon to collect carefully and store up in his memory. of — . afterward to be completed and made into sense by the other halves to which they respectively belong. and by other artifices of the same kind. but happily unknown in English. weaves them together into a structure of sentences which he twists and crosses. and so lays them before his reader one after the other for convenient deliberation. that all at — his thoughts shall succeed each other as quickly as the vibrations of a chord. like a box of boxes one within another. and crosses and twists again. instead of having their activity thereby actually burdened and weakened. since that is impossible. it is really the memory that is chiefly taxed. when-.

but wedged in so as directly to shatter it.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA 125 the hope that. It is much as r though a man w ere to treat his guests by handing them an empty plate. in the hope of something appearing upon it. it is an impertinent thing to interrupt But another person when he is speaking. he may see daylight and receive in the bargain something and he is thus given a great deal to learn This heart before obtaining anything to understand. for instance. and this makes it look as though the writer had more depth and This is. The ordinary writer. manifestly against all sound reason to thought obliquely on top of another. for It is put one together where a the pur- pose of inserting some quite alien matter. and as it were by instinct. thus depositing with the reader a meaningless half-sentence and bidding him keep it until the completion comes. well. one of those intelligence than the reader. by is manifestly wrong and an abuse of the reader's patience. all three differ only in — If Demosthenes and Cicero occasionally inserted degree. has an unmistakable T preference for this style. above. how ever. If. to think about . when he comes to the end of the sentence. careless. strive to conceal their poverty of thought and give an appearance of the opposite. incased periods of this kind. when this style of writing becomes the height of absurdity the parentheses are not even fitted into the frame of the sentence. indeed. as though both formed a wooden cross. because it causes the reader to spend time and trouble in understanding that which he would have understood in a moment without it. Their ingenuity in this respect is really artifices referred to astounding. But all bad. but this is what is done writer interrupts what he has begun to say. And commas used for a similar purpose belong to the same family as notes at the foot of the page and parentheses in the middle of the text nay. by means of which mediocre authors unconsciously. it is no less imper- tinent to interrupt oneself. and . they would have done better to refrain.

wherever it is possible Nor is it ing up one phrase in order to glue in another. and write as the coral-insects build. No doubt there are a few rare cases where such a form of sentence WW it is — advisable to give — may be pardonable. Wilrde der Frauen. use this style of writing six times on a page. I think. of consolation. They have only a bare idea of what the general shape of their work will be and how all this will end. Few write in the way in which an architect builds — who. the result of much careful thought. rather. who scribble with the bread actually before their eyes. write only as though they were playing dominoes. life nowadays goes at a gallop. would be helpless the middle. Many are even of this. Thev do it merelv out of laziness that they write thus.126 THE GERMAN CLASSICS hasty authors. inferior to these few words is of Jouy's: "Without women . and rule rejoice in it. they think there is a charming legerete about it. before he sets to work. and as in this game the pieces are arranged half by design. and the way in which this affects literature is to make it extremely superso it is ficial and slovenly. is more feelingly expressed by Byron in Sardanapalus: l'nrrrga and I'aralipomena. devoid of pleasure end. V out of stupidity. . it is. Beside. VI ON WOMEN* Schiller's poem in honor of women. II. that it gives life to what they say. half by chance. Most people. The same thing Chapter XXVII. sketches out his plan and thinks it out to its smallest details. It consists in breakand example together." the beginning of our life and the . and it appeals to the reader by its antithetic style and its use of contrast. as chance would have it. ignorant period joins to period. but as an expression of the true praise which should be accorded to them. with the sequence and connection of their sentences.

who alone represents the genus homo in the strict sense of the word. See how a girl will fondle a child for days together. frivolous and shortsighted in a word. dance with it and sing to it and then think what a man. to whom she should be a patient — and cheering companion. You need only look at the to see that way in which she is formed woman is whether of the mind or of the body. She pays the debt of not by what she does. without being peaceful and teachers of our early childhood. gentle. Your first small words are taught you from her lips. and by submission to her husband.PARERGA AND PAKALIPOMENA " 127 The very first Of human life must spring from woman's breast. — . but by what she suffers by the pains of child-bearing and care for the child. essentially happier or unhappier. life. in the language of the drama. Scene 2. Your first tears queneh'd by her. The keenest sorrows and joys are not for her. put in her place. by the fact that they are themselves childish. is called a coup de theatre. not meant to undergo great labor. in order that during those years they may capture the fancy of some man to such a degree that . could do if he were . and your last sighs Too often breathed out hi a woman's hearing. at the expense of the girls With young Nature seems to rest of their life." (Act I. a kind of interthey are big children all their life long mediate stage between the child and the full-grown male. Women are directly fitted for acting as the nurses The current of her life should be more and trivial than man's. with the best will in the world.) These two passages indicate the right point of view for the appreciation of women. nor is she called upon to display a great deal of strength. have had in view what. When men have shrunk from the ignoble care Of watching the last hour of him who led them. For a few years she dowers them with a wealth of beauty and is lavish in her gift of charm.

and everything connected with this dress. The only business that really claims their earnest attention is love. Nature proceeds with her usual economy. and for just as long as it is necessary for her to have them. but looks about him and considers the past and the future. and so on. never seeing anything but what is quite close to them. — dancing. which are then superfluous. And then. if not actually as a mere jest. That is why women remain children their whole life long. making conquests. as she does all her creatures. Both the advantages and the dis- advantages which this involves are shared by the woman to a smaller extent because of her weaker power of reason- .128 THE GERMAN CLASSICS is he carried away them. after fecundation. with the weapons and implements requisite for the safeguarding of her existence. as long as they live a step — — similar reasons. Accordingly Nature has equipped woman. a woman. Here. The nobler and more perfect a thing is. And so we find that young girls. liis A man reaches the maturity of reasoning powers and mental faculties hardly before the age of twenty-eight. and this is the origin of prudence. a woman generally loses her beauty probably. and preferring trifles to matters of the first importance. it is only reason of a sort very niggardly in its dimensions. in some for which there would not appear to be any sufficient warranty if reason only directed his thoughts. so. indeed'. at eighteen. too. loses her wings. actually a danger to the business of breeding. -after giving birth to one or two children. as well as of that care and anxiety which so many people exhibit. cleaving to the — present moment. nay. For it is by virtue of his reasoning faculty that man does not live in the present only. in the case of woman. in their hearts. as elsewhere. for into undertaking the honorable care of form or other. look upon domestic affairs or work of any kind as of secondary importance. taking appearance for reality. for just as the female ant. the later and slower it is in arriving at maturity. like the brute.

for their way of looking at things is quite different from ours. there at least this to be said in its favor: that the woman lives more in the present than the man. at any rate. The very fact that their husband hands them over his earnings for purposes of housekeeping strengthens them in this earn money and theirs to — belief. XV — 9 . In their hearts women think that it is men's business to if possible during spend it their husband's life. or imagine what does not exist. again. and. It is the present This is the him when he to consult is borne down by in matters by no means a bad plan women of difficulty. This more often the reason why women are inclined to be extravagant. However many disadvantages is all this may involve. fitting her to amuse man in bis hours of recreation. we are apt to see things in an exaggerated way. manage to fix their eyes upon see far beyond before them while we.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA ing. chiefly through the fact that they like to take the shortest way to their goal. Then. while. her field of vision is narrow She may. be described as intellectually shortsighted. in case of need. it. we need to be brought back to the right perspective. as a rule. she enjoys it more eagerly. in general. women are decidedly more sober in their judgment than we are. to console the weight of his cares. source of that cheerfulness which is peculiar to woman. so that they do not see more in things than is really there. and. but. just because it is in front of our noses. In cases like this. and that. so as to recover the near and simple view. and does not reach to are absent or past or to what is remote. and sometimes carry their inclination to a length that borders upon madness. 129 in fact. aroused. because. if our passions are what lies . if is at all tolerable. Vol. so that things which come have much less effect upon is women than upon men. as the Germans used to do in ancient times. after his death. while she has an intuitive understanding of what lies quite close to her.

they are inferior to men in point of justice. and almost as much a quality of the stupid as of the clever. them as the weaker and elephants and boars with tusks. bulls with horns. and so treat them with more kindness and interest. on the contrary. or. by fixed rules of conduct. Accordingly. honesty. and their ineradicable tendency to lie. and conwhy is that For it is just because their reasoning power weak that present circumstances have such a hold over them. not upon strength. with the arts of dissimulation and all the power which Nature . mainly due it is but also traceable to the position which Nature has They are dependent. This is to the fact. it is as natural for them to make use of it on every occasion as it is for those animals to employ their means of defense when they are attacked they have a feeling that in doing so they are only within their rights. by consideration for the past and the future. and the cuttle fish with its cloud of inky fluid. hence their instinctive capacity for cunning. is absent and remote. in general. so Nature has equipped woman. Therefore a woman . firm resolutions. and those concrete things which lie directly before scientiousness. assigned to sex. that women are defective in the powers of reasoning and deliberation. Hence it will be found that the fundamental fault of the female character is that it has no sense of justice. but they are deficient in those secondary qualities which are often a necessary instrument in the formation of it.130 THE GERMAN CLASSICS their reasoning faculty also explains it The weakness of fortunate than women show more sympathy for the unmen do. For as lions are provided with claws and teeth. they possess the first and main elements that go to make a virtuous character. . but upon craft. has conferred upon man in the shape of physical strength and reason has been bestowed upon women in this form. already mentioned. for her defense and protection. and why it is that. is their eyes exercise a power which is seldom counteracted to any extent by abstract principles of thought. Hence dissimulation is innate in woman. or regard for what.

where of them. taking things from when no one is looking. though it is secret and unformulated. And then their conscience does not trouble them so much as we fancy. and so on. for in the . This is the firm will and purpose of Nature in regard to the species. gives rise to falsity. to us. treachery. nay. But this fundamental defect which I have stated. and making off with shop-counters Nature has appointed that the propagation of the species men who are young. and for this very reason women it is are so quick at seeing through dissimulation in others that not a wise thing to attempt it with them. it may. scious in its working — is this: "We are justified in deceiving those who think they have acquired rights over the species by paying little attention to the individual. and it finds its expression in the passions of women. generally questioned whether women ought to be sworn all. unconshall be the business of . and have no other method of giving expression to it than the way in which they act . faithlessness. Woe. often committed by Perjury in a court of justice is more be at women than by men. handsome. therefore.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA who is 131 perfectly truthful and not given to dissimulation is perhaps an impossibility. who want for nothing. strong and to the end that the race may not degenerate. in- gratitude. through the control we obtain over the next is. the welfare of the species have been placed in our hands and committed to our care. The generation. to the man who sets up claims and interests that will conflict with it for whatever he may say and do. with all that it entails.'' But women have no abstract knowledge of this leading principle they are conscious of it only as a concrete fact. which proceeds from us. indeed. there is no law that is older or more powerful than this. then. that constitution and. From time to time one finds repeated cases everyladies. when the opportunity arrives. let us discharge our duties conscientiously. they will be unmercifully crushed at the first serious encounter! For the innate rule that governs women's conduct.

and almost the The natural but between is women feeling between men is it is actual enmity. whilst a man will. as a rule. even who are in a very inferior position. The reason of this may be that.132 THE GERMAN CLASSICS darkest recesses of their heart they are aware that. e. exist in the and in their hearts take the affairs of the species more seriously than those of the individual. And it is a patent fact that when two women make more show acquaintance with each other they behave with and dissimulation than two men would in a like case. it is intolerable to see how proudly and disdainfully a fine lady will generally behave toward one who is in a lower social rank (I do not mean a woman who is in her service) whenever she speaks to her. which is infinitely - main solely for the propaof the species. i. but with women embraces the whole sex. always preserve a certain amount of consideration and humanity in speaking to others. differences of rank are much more precarious than to those with us and can quicker change or disappear altogether. and hence it is that an exchange of first constraint compliments between two women is a much more ridiculous proceeding than between two men.. while a hundred considerations decide our position in the world. Further. because. The reason of this — Ghibellines. that trade-jealousy odium figulinum which. . in a direction fundamentally different and it is this which produces that disis so frequent. does not go beyond the confines of their. in the case of men. they have all the better fulfilled their duty toward the species. only one weighs with them. own particular pursuit. This gives their whole life and being a certain levity the general bent individual. they live. of their character is . in committing a breach of their duty toward the individual. with . since they have only one trade. Even when they meet in the street women look at one another like Guelphs and — mere indifference. with women. as a general rule. from that of man cord in married life which normal state. more for the species than for the since And women greater. and are not destined for anything gation else.

Hence. either by understanding them or by forcing them to do his will but a woman is always and everywhere reduced to obtaining this mastery indirectly. In our day we ought to . . No one who sees at all below the surface can have failed to remark the same thing. — keep on chattering during the women from If it is est masterpieces. man This makes them endeavor to lay stress upon differences of rank. Neither for music. no love of any art. only the man whose intellect is clouded by his sexual impulses that could give the name of the fair sex to that undersized. whom alone it directly wishes to dominate. they have no proper knowledge of any and they have no genius. in consequence of the one-sided nature of their calling. tries to acquire direct mastery over things. their theatres. nor for poetry. as a in order to enhance their endeavor . up with this impulse. narrow-shouldered. or. And so it lies in woman's nature to look upon everything only as a means for conquering man.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA which 133 they have found favor and also that they stand in much nearer relations with one another than men do. nor for fine art. and the reason of it seems to me to be as follows: A man . result of this. Instead of calling them beautiful. they were quite right in what they did. You need only observe the kind of attention women bestow upon a concert. in general. with which they play ' ' . broad-hipped. an opera. they are incapable of taking a purely objective interest in anything. for example. have they really and truly any sense or susceptiit bility it is a mere mockery if they make a pretense of to please. at any rate you would have been able to hear passages in the greattrue that the Greeks excluded finest what was said upon the stage. that is. through a man. there would be more warrant for describing women as the unesthetic sex. or a the childish simplicity. and short-legged race for the whole beauty ot the sex is bound It is . if she takes an a mere roundinterest in anything else it is simulated — about way of gaining her ends by coquetry and feigning what she does not feel. Rousseau already had declared: " Women have.

further. women are. non facit saltum. They never get beyond a subjective point of view. or given to the world any work of permanent This is most strikingly shown in to painting. where they take title and the lead and set the tone. And. And sequence Huarte in his Examen de ingenios para las scierucias a book which has been famous for three hundred years denies women the possession of all the higher faculties. if we by the second dictum. — . It is quite in keeping with this that ordinary women have no real susceptibility for art at all for Nature . The case is not altered by particular and partial exceptions taken as a whole. just because they are deficient in that objectivity of mind which is so indispensable in painting. Napoelon's that " women have no rank " should be adopted saying — — as the right point of view in determining their position in society. but not with our reason. and put it prefer. — — going philistines. and original. hence. is in such a bad way. it is just because they are philistines that modern society. And you cannot expect anything else of women if you consider that the most distinguished intellects among the whole sex have never managed to produce a single achievement in the fine arts that is really great. and as regards their other qualities Chamfort makes the very true remark: " They are made to trade with our weaknesses and our follies. where mastery of technique is at least regard as much within their power as within ours and hence value in any sphere.134 THE GERMAN CLASSICS woman keep woman keep add to the taceat mulier in ecclesia (" Let a silent in the Church") the saying "Let a silent in the theatre. and quite incurable. and remain. with that absurd arrangement which allows them to share the rank of their husbands." or. substitute the first up in big letters on the stage curtain. The sympathies that exist between them and men ar<' skin-deep only. — they are diligent in cultivating it but still they have not a single great painting to boast of. they are a constant stimulus to his ignoble ambitions. thoroughproceeds in strict . genuine. and do not touch the mind or the soul .

These divisions are polar and opposed to each other. their infirmities should be treated with consideration. and especially the lady. is by no means fit to be the object of our respect and veneration. — . not qualitative merely This is just the view which the Ancients took of woman. which not only moves all Asia to laughter but would have been ridiculed by Greece and Rome as well. she did not draw the line exactly through the middle. but to be . not to be arrogant. so that one is occasionally reminded of the holy apes in Benares. These notions have served only to make women more arrogant and overbearing. think they can do exactly as they — please. is a being who should not exist at all she should be either a housewife or a girl who hopes to become one. finds herself in a false position. with our old French notions of gallantry and that highest prodour preposterous system of reverence uct of Teutonico-Christian stupidity. which. par it would be a superfluous truism. and their judgment as to her proper position is much more correct — . rightly called by the ancients sexus sequior. in the consciousness of their sanctity and inviolable position. or to hold her head higher than man and be on equal terms with him. civil and political arrangements. for woman. There would be no necessity for the Salic law The European lady. It is impossible to calculate the good effects which such a change would bring about in our social. it is true but the difference between them is it is also quantitative. and she should be brought up. woman. Accordingly it would be a very desirable thing if this Number Two of the human race were in Europe also relegated to her natural place. excellence. When Nature made two divihuman race. inferior in every respect to the first. but to show them great reverence is extremely ridiculous and They form — lowers us in their sions of the own eyes. and the view which people in the East take now. than ours. and an end put to that lady-nuisance. The But in the West the consequences of this false position are sufficiently obvious.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA or the character." 135 the the sexus sequior second sex.

just as the honors and privileges which the laws in proportion accord to women exceed the amount which Nature gives. too. T seeing this. They ought to mind home ages — — and be well fed and clothed — but not mixed in Well educated. to marry means to have one's rights monogamy and double one's duties. whore monogamy prevails the num- ber of married women is limited. Now w hen the laws gave women equal rights with man they ought to have endowed her from a wrong T But the fact is that. also with a masculine intellect. men who are shrew d and prudent very often just so above their share. politics a little ploughing now and then. as well as " hay-making and milking? The laws of marriage prevailing in Europe consider the woman as the equivalent of the man — start. in religion — but to read neither poetry — nothing but books of piety and cookery. Consequently. position. there is a diminution in the number and of all women who much as is really participate in these privileges. and there remains over . that is to say. "Why not. nor Music — drawing — dancing — also gardening and : Lord Byron says ' ' of the state of women under state. by given scruple to make so great a sacrifice and to acquiesce in so unfair an arrangement.136 THE GERMAN CLASSICS It is just because there are such people as ladies in Europe that the women of the lower classes. which is by no means the case. whilst among polygamous nations every woman is provided for. In our part of the world. deprived of their natural rights to the others over the remainder are For and tion of monogamy and the laws of marriage which it entails bestow upon the woman an unnatural position of the instituprivilege by considering her throughout as the full equivalent of the man. the great majority of the sex. artificial society. and. And even domestic and submissive. I have seen them mending the roads in Epirus with good success. are much more unhappy than they are in the East. where is the rule. Present remnant of the barbarism of the chivalric and the feudal and unnatural. Thought a the ancient Greeks — convenient enough. that is to say.

if the since human nature is so constituted that we pay an atten- . Yet under the circumstances they are a necessity. or may hope to find. should not take a second. there is no true reason why a man whose wife suffers from chronic illness. however. who. In London alone there are tation 80. And. reasonable. or has gradually become too old for him. dishonorable and sad besides. because marriage is the basis of civic society. off under the institution of monogamy. she to some extent loses her honor. who have found. husbands.000 prostitutes. and their position is openly recognized as serving the special end of warding off tempfrom those women favored by fate. in the upper classes. to a certain degree. who. the bestowal of unnatural rights upon women has imposed upon them unnatural duties. Howover fair. and she will lead a life. and in the lower succumb to hard work for which they are not suited. or remains barren. vegetate as useless old maids. such as will secure her position and that of the children. The women whose here alluded to are the inevitable European lady with her arrogance and pretension. fit. unless he makes some brilliant His desire will then be to win a woman of his own choice under conditions other than those of marriage. from another point of view. Let me explain. and proper these condi- woman consents by foregoing that amount of privilege which marriage alone disproportionate can bestow. Moreover. What are they but the women. Polygamy is therefore a real benefit to the female sex if it is taken as a whole. or else become filles de joie whose life is as destitute of joy as it is of honor.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA 137 an enormous number of women without stay or support. tions may be. have come Theirs offered is a dreadful is fate — they worst? are human sacrifices up on the altar of monogamy. The motives which induce so many people to become converts to Mormonism appear to be just those which militate against the unnatural institution of monogamy. A he marries. man may often think that his social or financial position will suffer if alliance. yet a breach of set-off to the wretched position which. makes them unhappy.

since is nothing fairer than to allow him. The Mormons are right. leaving only women. Where are there. but it is also revolting that she should spend her husband's money with . if she does not consent. for it shows that. This will reduce woman to her true and natural position as a subordinate being. or of being landed high and dry as an old maid for the period during which she has a chance of being settled for life is very short. it must be taken as de facto existing everywhere. after that.138 THE GERMAN CLASSICS tion to the opinion of other people which is out of all proportion to its value. with her ridiculous pretensions to respect and veneration will disappear from the world. any real monogamists. And so. that it was an institution which was to a certain extent actually recognized by law and attended with no dishonor. We all live. and most of needs us. her brother. but no more unhappy women. and then. Thomasius' profoundly learned treatise De Concubinatu is well worth reading. at any rate. among all civilized nations and in all ages down to the . her husband. to be sure. of whom a time. she runs the risk either of having to be given in marriage to a man whom she does not like. or her son. and the that monster of European civilization and Teulady tonico-Christian stupidity. nay. Lutheran Reformation. there — — is now full. And in view of this aspect of the institution of monogamy. It is. in many women. to provide for many women. the Catholic Church did not dare to remain behindhand in the matter. she stands under the control of her father. On the other hand. then. In India no woman is ever independent. always. concubinage was permitted nay. in accordance with the law of Manu. and the only question is as to how it shall be regulated. a revolting thing that a widow should immolate Europe herself upon her husband's funeral pyre. — There is no use arguing about polygamy. It was seen to be a further justification for the marriage of the clergy. but. to make it incumbent upon him. for every man polygamy. it was only the Lutheran Reformation that degraded it from this position.

howEurope that a departure has taken place That the property which has ever. When that is to say.PARERGA AND PARALIPOMENA 139 her paramours the money for which he toiled his whole life long in the consoling belief that he was providing for his children. wealth. should never receive anything beyond the interest for life on property secured by mortgage. Happy are those who have kept the middle course — — medium tenuere beati! mother for her child is. in any true sense of the word is to go to them as an inheritance. nor are they fit persons to be intrusted with its administration. — love for metaphysical in its origin. squander it in a short time or otherwise fool it away. the first love physically helpless condition. especially where the mother did not love the father. should give way to one that is based on habit and reason but this often fails to make its appearance. as serious as it is common. his child he recognizes his own inner self The natural love of a . they houses or land should never be allowed the free disposition of it. or the capital. funds. The people who make money are men. who then. which should be prevented by limiting the right of women to inherit. not women. property is inherited by the male descendants alone. all nations. is a grievance and a wrong. even amongst the Hottentots. it is only in but not. among the nobility. because it has its foundation in the fact that in the that is to say. it is In almost — and it follows from this that women are neither justified in having unconditional possession of it. of a purely instinctive character. whether of the ancient or the modern world. except where all male descendants fail. with the lower animals as with men. cost men long years of toil and continued effort and been won with so much difficulty should afterward come into the hands of women. In my opinion the best arrangement would be that by which women. In their — — . The love of a father for his child is of a different order and more likely to last. and in no case the property itself. whether widows or daughters. in their lack of reason. and so it ceases when the child is no longer in a After that.

etc. must spread to its bane- be seen by the fact that every woman who is placed in the unnatural position of complete independence. was to blame for that gradual corruption of the Court and the Government which brought ceded too much to their of inheritance and about the Revolution of 1789. has this much danger in it that it takes an entirelv material direction. It is this. women. and this defect. and hence they should never be given the free control of their own The vanity of children. But with men vanity often. show and magnificence that is just why they are so much in their element in society. proceeding from the very heart of ful influence in all directions. is a fundamental defect in our social state. May it not be the case in France that the influence of women. it. such as intellect. If she is young. immediately is That woman by nature meant obey may attaches lurself to some man by whom she allows herself be guided and ruled. I mean.140 THE GERMAN CLASSICS case a guardian should always be appointed. learning. in the most glaring way.takes the direction of non-material accomplishment. if she is old. In his Politics Aristotle explains the great disadvantage which accrued to the Spartans from the fact that they con- women by giving them the right dower and a great amount of independence. courage. it will be a lover. demonstrated as it is. which went on increasing steadily from the time of Louis XIII. and he shows how much this contributed to Sparta's fall. a confessor. the more as power is low. wherever it can be avoided. of their personal beauty.. and then of finery. . by the institution of the lady. even though it should not prove to be greater than that of men. the false position which women occupy. It is because she needs a lord and to master. too. Accordingly we find an ancient writer describing woman r^n r3 eovolow as in general of an extravagant nature — eon danavrjpdv <f>u<T£i. all — which makes them so inclined to be their reasoning extravagant. Thev are vain. of which all subsequent disturbances have been the fruit? However that may be.

though it would be too much to say that his essays are models either of clearness or conciseness. and Homer. of whose Iliad he had translated twelve books by his thirteenth career. A.THE PROSE WORKS OF RICHARD WAGNER By Walter R. Spalding. was so vast that forty-two human beings died in the course of the piece. to quote Wagner's own words.M. The plan year. Associate Professor of Music. Goethe. " I saw myself compelled to call the greater number back as ghosts." Truly a striking. becoming acquainted with Shakespeare. and so. At the same time he compounded a grand tragedy based on elements from Hamlet and King Lear. since otherwise the last acts would have been short of characters. though humorous exof his power to cope with dramatic exigencies! ample From the outset Wagner was so dissatisfied with the insipidity of the conventional operatic text and so despairing of any real union between librettist and composer that he decided to write his own texts. The most important single factor in Wagner's conception of what opera should be was the stress laid on the dramatic worth of the words. Harvard University. While a mere boy he was an omnivorous reader. He acquired thereby great facility in verbal expression. His style in fact is recognized as one of the most difficult and obscure of modern German writers. HAT Wagner sion of himself for a large part of the expresand his ideals should have recourse to the medium of words is but natural when we note tendencies which are manifested from the earliest years of his Many of his subsequent gigantic conceptions are foreshadowed in the ideal schemes which began to clearly occupy his thoughts at a preternaturally early age. no longer merely accessory to the [141] .

and the Mastersingers is undoubtedly one of the great comedies in the German language. the fiery (1851). but compelling intelligent appreciation on the part of the listener. The most of Wagner's theories and artistic ideals which important he necessary to set before the public that the indidramas might be grasped. his texts considered as literature stand the test in many respects. Wagner had a happy knack for story telling and the work reveals his astounding memory for details and the vividness of his emotional impressions. Uhlig. then. and As to the style of the Autobiography in distincpolitics. numerous letters to Liszt. the astounding mental energy displayed. Roeckel and others. the words from his pen would probably outnumber the musical critical notes. the Art-Work of the Future (1849). as he wished them called. and first were . A Communication to my Friends felt it vidual character of his music Opera and Drama (1851). It is now universally acknowledged that Wagner was one of the great constructive forces of the nineteenth century a genius of such tremendous individuality that we cannot — rejoice in the glorious art-works thereby created without at the same time granting that such a personality is of necessity egotistical and one-sided. and lastly the recently published Autobiography. tion from the essays we find a great deal of real charm and wit. which makes the puzzle even more perplexing between Wagner's genius and independence as an artist and his weakness as a man. there are ten large volumes of esthetic and prose works.142 THE GERMAN CLASSICS music. In addition to the texts of his musical dramas. Although in Wagner's case a distinction must be made between a musical dramatist and a dramatic poet pure and simple. religion. In sheer bulk. the wide range of subjects touched upon. are contained in Art and Revolution (1849). When these essays published. and anything but clearheaded in settling abstract questions of race. Seldom is found such a broad philosophy of life coupled with so much romantic freshness and charm.

but to deintellectual musician ' ' ' ' cide just how much permanent knowledge he was con- tributing to philosophy. These works are also in a class by themselves. inquisitive brain had. the picture of a creative artist . not building his work on a priori theories. In a Communication to My Friends Wagner tells us that none of " his innovations was prompted by reflection." out. sociology. So great indeed was Wagner's individuality and so peculiar the composition of his musical powers that any phase of human activity which could not be explained in terms of his own ideas was incomprehensible. And yet Wagner belongs in that small class of great geniuses concerning whom everything must be taken into account. The ideas are interesting from a psychological point of view as showing what a restless. who had yet appeared. but solely by practical experience and the nature of his artistic aim. and although there is some chaff there is also a large amount of wheat. but are certainly not worth combating. but formulating his principles as they were justified from actual experimentation. for the fallacies and contradictions in which he constantly involves Wagner himself are too palpable. Krehbiel. but genius needs no justification in achievement its mere presence in the world discharges its obligations. and Symons. In attempting to estimate his power we are reminded of the saying that talent must justify itself by its works. as the French critic Baudelaire has pointed . putting forth tentacles in every direction. and those who supported it necessarily in the wrong. His prose works compel our admiration for their scope and for the unselfishness of the ideals set forth. and now no one save the extreme Wagnerite considers his views on anything disconnected with music of great account. in that we have in them. Since then his prose works have been keenly criticised by such able and fair-minded writers as Newman.RICHARD WAGNER zeal 143 and sincerity of utterance quite blinded the reader's It was evident that Wagner was the most judgment. and the arts outside his own special domain has required the slow test of time.

and in Judged as literature. who himself dramatic poet. There is no doubt that Wagner was striving for a moral and uplifting effect. and our blood is fired as we realize the synthetic power of this man.* In Tristan the dramatic motto is the un- dying power this of the love of man and woman eager to face physical death itself rather than live apart. Then there is seen to be something glorious in Wagner's egotism and uncompromising ideality. when many as the standard of his most daring innovations have been accepted method of uniting music 'and the drama. Thus in the Ring a powerful sermon is preached against the greed for money as an end in itself. and the Mastersingers are dramatic poems of the highest rank for their nobility of purpose and vigor of diction. could strive so persistently in the case of the Tetralogy for twenty years for a logical union of — — the several factors in the composite art of opera most cases succeed so adequately. And in most touching drama the man and woman do actually The symbolic dip. and at the expense of unselfish love." * . Wagner's extreme worshippers claim that the Ring. composer. though based on the work of the For suppestive comments on the work see Bernard Shaw's essay " The Perfect Wagnerite. we must not consider them from the present period. conductor. however much his message may be clouded by abstruse metaphysics and by his inherent incapacity to comprehend the practical causes of sin and sorrow in the world. the texts of the music dramas have had various estimates set upon them. and master of stage-setting. there is no theatrical compromise. but should project ourselves backward in spirit to the time of their first enunciation. comedy of the Mastersingers is an eloquent presentation of the claims of ideality versus pedantry. Tristan. and preaches the lesson that real genius. inventor of wonderful scenic effects.144 THE GERMAN CLASSICS Hence this philosophical autobiography reveals more than ever before the growth of an artistic personclearly To estimate fairly Wagner's theoretical writings ality.

Co.Permission Berlin Photo.. New York Fnvxz von- Lektiach RICHARD WAGNER .


the chief factor in opera in the generic sense of the must never forget that in listening term is the music. for this purpose. has recently suggested that Tristan and Isolde be cases only a medium given without voices or stage setting. They are in many for the presentation of broad emotions. so to speak." Wagner was primarily a (referring to the I cannot now for is how much of the whole spirit and made man of transcendent musical power. replaces Vol. but with sufficient dramatic ability to fashion the best texts which had so far existed for intensification by critic Lichtenberger in his " there are in Tristan says that long passages where the verse is resolved. to be sure. It must be acknowledged that an impartial study of the texts reveals many rhapsodical. To other critical scholars. where it is reduced to being merely the support. almost indifferent means of music. however. disjointed passages which can hardly be glorified by the title of poetry.RICHARD WAGNER past. is as it should be. of the chanted melody where the . The French Wagner. This specious reasoning to the contrary. XV— 10 . to a Wagner opera the emotional power of the music. admirably suited. Jean Marnold. throws such a glamor over us that it is very difficult to judge of the intrinsic meaning of the words. I now realize myself meaning of my poem clear by the music. unhampered by petty rules. an astute and distinguished French critic. 145 must yet be given free opportunity for self-expression. the texts are merely words to be set to music. " Wagner says in a letter to Roeckel. and the conviction is borne in upon us that the words as a whole are planned with reference to musical possibilities and demands. poet. conscious of his impotence to express in clear and logical ideas the pure sentiment that sings through his melodies. in the music. Poete et Penseur by itself. Ring) only my life even look at the words without the musical accompaniment. for all We especially through the medium of the orchestra. in order that the auditor's entire attention may be centered on the eloquent music of the orchestra. which is really the chief message.

is very sound criticism.146 THE GERMAN CLASSICS series of broken interjections. his Third and Ninth Symphonies. for example. music effects this freeing of the will at her first entry. since only the lesser half of his genius would thereby be presented. shows an admirable psychologic insight into the peculiar quality of Beethoven's music. and Gluck's Iphigenia in Aulis. These essays. yet contain much which should be of interest to the general reader. and they redound to his credit as much as the carefully planned treatise of a man of science. are very thoughtful. inasmuch as she withdraws us at once from any concern . He. On the whole Wagner's best piece of critical and esthetic Here also he writing is the essay on Beethoven (1871). and for such reasons no selections from Wagner's dramatic texts have been given. On the Application of Music to the Drama and to those wmich deal with the inner meaning and proper interpretation of certain masterpieces such as Beethoven's Coriolanus Overture. They show that Wagner when unencumbered by abstract meta- physical theorizings. indulges in considerable special pleading in the endeavor to weld together Schopenhauer's philosophy and Beethoven's music into a suitable foundation for the Wagnerian Music Drama. and great praise the regular phrase by a ' ' r must be given to his essays On Conducting. could be lucid. exclamations "with scarcely a link between them. Those who claim for him on the strength of the w ords alone a place in the front rank of German poets can be indorsed only with qualifications. although of prime importance only to the trained musician. and his speculations concerning the real nature of music which in the deepest sense is indefinable. however. like soul or imagination. When "Wagner wT as dealing with matters connected with his own special art he was on sure ground. and offerThis ing to the intelligence only a sense extremely vague. is fraught with genuine meaning: " Whereas plastic art merely effects the temporary liberation of the intellect from service to the individual will through our discarding all relations of the object contemplated to that will. The following sentence.

and All there is much gold in Wagner's mass of material. William the First. brain could have marshalled so many statements.RICHARD WAGNER 147 as pure form with the relation of things outside us. and shuts us off from the outer world. said and done. should like that man to command my armies." It is not Or." is " the musician's state the saint. and we are compelled to grant him a place by himself. 250) holds a high place among a side tributes of devotion. When one of fault allowance has been made. The unerring insight of the Ger- — man Emperor." His fiery eloquence in fact quite disarms ordinary criticism. set free from matter as it were. misdirected though they often be. theories were vituperated by every critic years Wagner's the generous attitude of Liszt and a very few in Europe — and nothing enlightened spirits being striking exceptions but the unconquerable courage of a veritable giant kept him from succumbing. contemporary evidence testifies that he was a ready and impressive speaker. For full twenty but solely for the advancement of art. in the words of Newman. there remains something vast in Wagner's prose works No ordinary akin to the emotional ardor of his music. content is to be reckoned above style. and should be helpful toward . who " I on once seeing Wagner conduct an orchestra said. not expecting to find in one of his temperament the impartial When all is analytical power of a better balanced man. and the speech on the burial of Weber's body in German soil (see p. similar to the internal ecstacy of meant that every this preface should be critical finding. selections present to the general reader comparatively little known of one of the great The following geniuses of the German race. especially when we bear in mind that this pleading was not for any personal advantage. is worthy of note. and the passionate insistence on the Tightness of his special point of view takes us captive in spite of ourselves. to let us gaze into the inmost essence of our- — — selves and all things.

.148 THE GERMAN CLASSICS a more comprehensive estimate of bis power and versaIn this age of compromises it is stimulating to be tility. however much they may be hampered for a time. who proved once and for all that genius and ideality are indestructible. brought into touch with any one so passionately in earnest as Wagner was.

found its fullest expression in the god Apollo. in fact.RICHARD WAGNER ART AND REVOLUTION* TRANSLATED BY WILLIAM ASHTON ELLIS any serious investigation of the essence of our art of today. as the later Not as the soft companion of the Muses luxurious art of sculpture has alone preserved and more must we conceive the Apollo of the springhis likeness time of the Greeks. Permission Kegan Paul. in point of fact. had proclaimed to questioning man the fundamental laws of the Grecian race and nation.. the peaceful. Ltd. Trench. had overcome the raw religion of its Asiatic birthplace. the head and national deity — of the Hellenic race. our modern art is but one link in the artistic development of the whole of Europe and . — to those involved in passionate action. London. built upon the nature-forces of the earth. unchangeable Grecian it was this Apollo who was the fulfiller of the nature. through his priestess at Delphi. Grecian people. at nacle of its religious convictions the flowering-time of its art and polity. the dragon was Apollo of Chaos who had smitten down the vain sons of boastful Niobe by his death-dealing darts who. we cannot make one step forward without being brought face to face with its intimate connection with the Art of ancient Greece. the Future. and had set the fair. [149] . strong manhood of freedom upon the pinAfter it the Grecian spirit. undisturbed mirror of their inmost. For. but it was with all the traits of ener- — — * Trubner From The Art Work of & Co. . the up — . thus holding It . this development found its start- ing-point with the Greeks.. will of Zeus upon the Grecian earth who was. he who had slain the Python.

as eternal rhythm. ture . and planned the scenic trappings Thus. and sent on horse to farthest lands in search of perilous adven. as everlasting harmony of every motion and of all creation. the tragic poet saw this glorious god: when. ^in all solemnity and glee. and concentrating into one focus. here they became actual and true. when all and of his restless soul. him to the new birth of his Athenian saw the god. that the great tragedian iEschylus knew him. the while they gave to the dancers the mastering measure that meted out the rhythm of the dance which dance itself. their deas they. too. lights. Thus. urged own being through the ideal expression of art. brought forth the highest conceivable form of art the Drama. here found its perfected expression. and graceful movements. to all the rich elements of spontaneous art. Such a tragedy-day was a Feast of the God. when the young man was led into the circle of fellow- ship. where ear and eye. ringing full. beautiful but strong. his only password that of his beauty and his native worth in which alone lay all his might and all his riches. when the voices. singing the deeds of the god. the Spartan youths learnt the nature of the god. as soul and heart. he joined the bond of speech. when by dance and joust they had developed their supple bodies to grace and strength when the boy was taken from those he loved. seized and perceived all. heaped one upon the other the broad crescents of the amphitheatre. For all that in them moved and lived. too. — human them life. inspired by Dionysus. in told the story of those deeds. and saw all in spirit and in body revealed. so that the imagination need no longer vex itself with the attempt to conjure up the image. the harvest of the fairest and most of the stage. With such eyes also the the impulses of his fair body. The deeds of gods and men. all — their sufferings. for . when above the harmony of well-ordered columns he wove the noble roof. — lay disclosed in the nature of Apollo himself. sounded forth the choral song.150 getic THE GERMAN CLASSICS earnestness. lifelike and actual. as it moved and lived in the beholders.

Constantly on his : guard. tomorrow in mischance. led the measures of the dance. stillest peace to live again the life which a brief space of time before they had lived in restless activity and accentuated individuality. as his high-priest. howsoever wise and lofty.AET AND REVOLUTION 151 hero the god spoke clearly and intelligibly forth. and the poet. streaming in its thousands from the State-assembly. or his thoughts. both internal and external. This race. came — they. he . from land. and in ringing words proclaimed the utterances of godlike wisdom. can lay itself down to passive egoistic rest. to read the riddle of their own actions. stood real and embodied in his art-work. Ever jealous of his personal independence. from sea. in the goal of one undertaking seeing but the starting-point of a fresh one. was rich in individuality. today in peril of the utmost danger. in constant mutual intercourse. he gave not even to the hoariest tradition the right over his own free mundane life. from distant parts filled with its thirty thousand heads the amphitheatre. Prometheus. people in its highest truth and beauty. and thus in noblest. tomorrow absolutely exterminating its foes. in all its relations. This people. his actions. might imperil from any quarter the freedom of his own strong will the Greek despised the soft complacence which. incarnated in actual. Yet. and hunting down the " Tyrannos " who. in every unit. in every branch. at the summons of the choir his voice was hushed. living art. such was the Grecian . Such was the Grecian work of art such their god Apollo. in this Titanic masterpiece to see the image of themselves. in daily-varying strifes. raised the voices to a choir. in daily-changing alliances. restless in its energy. To see the most pregnant of all tragedies. from the Agora. from camps. breathing the life of the freest and most unceasing development. today in luck. untiring in warding off all outside influence. to fuse their own being and their own communion with that of their god. under the convenient shelter of another's care.

its scent the spirit — upon the pinnacle of Nature. can he derive so much as the impulse to artistic creation. for from the world of sense alone. before he can mold therefrom the implements of his art. Art is the of activity of a race that has developed highest expression its physical beauty in unison with itself and Nature.152 THE GERMAN CLASSICS yielded himself a willing slave to the deep significance of the scenic show. . could only sacrifice to his God on the altar of renunciation. tragedy — nay. then. as it there unfolded itself to him. he durst not bring his actions or his work as offering. and abstinence from all man must reap the highest joy from the world of sense. and hearkened to the great story of Necessity told by the tragic poet through the mouths of his gods and heroes on the self stage. and therein find his tools. found the noblest part of his own nature again For in the he found him- united with the noblest characteristics of the whole nation and from his inmost soul. What. but believed that he must seek His favor by self-prompted venture. that it were better to be for half a day a Greek in presence of this tragic artun-Greek God! work. the Universal summed up in him: like one of those thousand fibres which form the plant's united life. if he fain would create an art-work that should correspond to his belief. there to bring forth the one lovely flower which shed its fragrant breath This flower was the highest work of Art. and still it intoxicates our senses and forces from us the avowal. from the grace of God. At once both God and Priest. one with the Universal. on the contrary. could he take for mirrored in his eyes aim? Surely not physical beauty — . set himself The who himself. his slender form sprang from the soil into the upper air. The Christian. proclaimed the Pythian oracle. must derive his impulse from the essence of abstract spirit (Geist). glorious godlike man. than to all eternity an upon eternity. could procreate Art from very joy in manhood: the Christian. who impartially cast aside both Nature and free Greek. of Greece.

opposite methods. of every century of our Christian era. in direct proportion as mankind. and strife against. the spirit of Christendom. the judge in the the one case. for gathered in the amphitheatre for the space of a few short . Where the Greeks. a ceaseless thirst of doing. the warfare between worldly might and the despotism of the Roman Church so. Hypocrisy is the salient feature. as in the whole history of the Middle Ages we always light upon one prominent factor. delight in bold adventure. when this new world sought for a . has refreshed its vigor from its own unquenchable and inner well-spring. hours of the deepest meaning the Christian shut himIn self away in the life-long imprisonment of a cloister.ART AND REVOLUTION 153 as an incarnation of the devil? And how could pure spirit. the Popular Assembly was full : : an other. the peculiar characterdown to istic. to a hypocritical Despotism. The Art of Christian Europe could never proclaim itself. right our own day. Nature is so strong. that no conceivable violence could weaken its Into the ebbing veins of the Roman world. between the ideal arid the reality. and indeed this vice has always stalked abroad with more crying shamelessness. give birth to a something that could be cognized by the senses? All pondering of this problem is fruitless the course of two history shows too unmistakably the results of these their edification. for reason that its inmost being was incurably and irreconcilably split up between the force of conscience and the instinct of life. as the expression of a world attuned to harmony. . Despite the adoption of Christianity. so inexhaustible in its regenerative resources. and ripened toward the fulfilment of its true purpose. But. in spite of Christendom. form of utterance. at any time. the Inquisition. it could only find it in opposition to. there poured the healthy blood of the fresh Germanic nations. and unbounded self-reliance. like that of ancient Greece. remained the native element of the new creative force. here the State developed to honorable Democracy: there. masters of the world.

like the Church. but was the For warned sent for all its spiritual sustenance to Christianity which it off from the first taste of life's delight. same reason did actual life.154 THE GERMAN CLASSICS Like the order of Chivalry itself. so the more visibly gaped the abyss between the actual life and the idealized existence. in attempting to heal this severance. its joy in itself. leaving the pristine. the raw. Nevertheless. become corrupt and vicious. when Only when the enthusiasm of belief had smoldered down. the parody of heroism: in place of Nature. the Church appropriated to herself this newly-roused artimpulse. noble. for it durst not draw the nourishment for its art-impulse from out of its own being. the Church openly proclaimed herself as naught but a worldly despotism appreciable by the senses. and with the artist's delight in that physical beauty — this was a complete denial of the very essence of the Christian religion.itself in all its worldly pomp. he would fain now see before him clad in body. commenced the That wherewith man had so-called Renaissance of Art. But this was only possible on condition that he opened his eyes once more. etherealized behavior in romance. and restored his senses to their rights. Yet when man took the objects of belief and the revelations of phantasy and set them before his eyes in physical beauty. but bring to light the falsehood of the reconciliation the higher and the more proudly it soared on high. and certainly not ungraceful customs of the people. and its own physical demeanor. even amid its loftiest imagery. racked his brain so long. and did not blush to deck herself with the bor- . as from a thing accursed. could. it offered a convention. in alliance with the no less material worldly absolutism of the temporal rule which she had sanctified: only then. the chivalric poetry of the Middle Ages. passionate bearing of these knights in physical life and their too delicate. between . and it was the deepest humiliation to Christendom that the guidance to these art-creations must be sought from the pagan art of Greece. The poetry of Chivalry was thus the honorable hypocrisy of fanaticism.

preferred to sell her soul and body to a far worse mistress Commerce. when.ART AND REVOLUTION hypocrisy. looking into the matter more closely. where it blossomed not forth as the living utterance of a free. was the expression of the deepest and the noblest principles of the people's consciousness: with us the deepest and noblest of man's consciousness is the direct opposite of this. they took into their pay the arts whose lessons Greece had taught. or Corneille and Racine. it is difficult to decide who was the greater hypocrite Louis XIV. namely the denunciation of our pub- . and. when he sat as now served — and heard the Grecian hate of Tyrants. to win the favor of their lord. but was taken into the service of the very powers which hindered the self-development of that community. 155 rowed plumes of paganism.. which reached its zenith in their tragedy. instead of enfranchising herself from eminently respectable masters. in order to set clearly before our eyes their characteristic points of difference. declaimed in polished verses from the boards of his Court-theatre. — Let us now compare the chief features of the public art of modern Europe with those of the public art of Greece. thus trumpeting her own Worldly dominion. selfconscious community. The public art of the Greeks. the security of awoke in the ruling classes the desire for more reenjoyment of this wealth. such as were the Holy Church and witty Princes. and was thus capriciously transplanted from foreign climes? No. their power armed against all danger from below. Could Art be present there in very deed. however. surely! Yet we shall see that Art. riches its share also in the After centuries of combat. had revival of art. they set in the mouths of their stage-heroes the warm words of freedom and political virtue of ancient Greece and Rome. " Free " Art fined handmaid to these exalted masters.

and at times unseemly haste for fortune-making. March 18. that it is the duty of the police to prevent the stage from med- dling in the slightest with religion. permit a certain portion of our proletariate. The Greeks sought the instruments of their art in the products of the highest associate culture we seek ours in the deepest social . in body as in spirit.* a circumstance as Within the characteristic of our religion as of our art. THE GERMAN CLASSICS To the Greeks the production of a tragedy was a religions festival. on the other hand. Thus the fleeting joys of Greek was his own actor. boundaries of the Grecian amphitheatre. or on account of the censorship. our fool- ish education. to be instructed for our entertainment thus prurient vanity." etc." Fix-her. and he rightly held it an honor to be entitled by his beauty and his culture to be called to this beloved task. ward • in his Wagner own delight in the masterpiece. fill up the ranks of our dramatic companies. and forces us to seek the subjects of any kind of artistic amuselike the rake who goes for the ment outside ourselves love to the arms of a prostitute. Heine. ' ' "Sixteen singers must remain to stand. aged Citizens. barbarism. for the Priests. loll only the affluent classes. youth. fashioned for the most part to fit us merely for future industrial gain. 8. in its success. from his earliest himself the subject of his own artistic treat- ment and artistic enjoyment. his share in — the performance of a tragedy was to him the highest pleasure in the work of Art itself. where the gods bestirred themselves npon the stage and bestowed on men their wisdom our evil con: science has so lowered the theatre in public estimation. gives us a ridiculous. claptrap. R. which is to be found in every social stratum. we. to F. '41: Translator. the whole ample populace was wont to witness the performances. Dec. and withal arrogant satisfaction with our own unfitness for art. — To W. — — . '41:— "This showed me still more that the religious-catholic part of my h'icnzi libretto was a chief decidedly * * * Church is not allowed If in my Kicnzi the word stumbling-Mock. in our superior theatres. singer. The education of made the Greek. and dancer.156 lie art. Where the Grecian artist found his only re.

The journeyman reckons only the goal of his labor. his fulfilled the as shall agree with his individual tastes. and Art above all else. it is but a fatigue. . gives him no pleasure. all that remains to him is its mere money-worth. is raiment. in his eyes it The latter is but weariness. with 157 And thus we reach the essentwo with the Greeks their Handicraft. but always looking beyond it to its goal. a burden which he would gladly give over For this to a machine. sorrowful toil. Only on the shoulders of this great It is for Art. the Yet. if the immediate aim of the satisfaction of an impulse of his journeyman own. the creation of that which answers to less pressing needs will elevate itself to the rank of artistic production. therefore. often almost without aim. but also in the very process of creation. then. together with his prospective pleasure in the lasting value of these objects. etc. reason he is never present with his work in spirit. boarded. his chat- reach as quickly as he may. which he fain would the profit which his toil shall bring . and guide it toward its true direction. man — constant labor. to teach this social impulse its noblest meaning. and bitter. satisfying activity toil. paid. The very act of no production is to him a gladsome. — him the energy which he expends. After he has demands of bare necessity. us it is artistic The true artist finds delight not only in the aim of his creation. and thus his energy can never rise above the character of the busy strokes of a machine. and tial distinction between the public art was very Art. without joy or love. lodged.AET AND REVOLUTION and the public approbation. there also enters by degrees a bent to such a fashioning of the material tels. is the lot of the slave of industry and our modern factories afford us the sad picture of the deepest degradation of . But if he bargains away the product of his toil. an inevitable task. killing both body and soul. his toil is but a fettering chain.. such as the preparing of his own dwelling. in the : — we have the modern artist — handling and molding of his material.

taking Nature and her fulness for the common weal of all. what ye shall eat. but everything evolves by its own inner nothing Yet it is impossible that the final state which necessity. else were the whole history of the world a restless zig-zag of cross purposes. at last. then will its mutual creed be couched in an " Take no care actual fulfilment of Christ's injunction. that heresy which has taught him the denial of Nature hitherto to look upon himself as a mere instrument to an end which lay outside himself. for your Heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. and take its fair Art the will tell his Man. or what ye shall drink: nor yet for your body. and Neither our present purpose to indicate more closely march of this social development and the records it stamp on history. which with all its bends. nor could dogmatic calculation fore- the historical demeanor of man's social nature. for a moment at this future state of Man. when he shall have freed himself from his last heresy. then. from state of civilized barbarism. yet flows forever in one steadfast course. This goal is the strong. that itself is the one and only object of its existence. The crime and the curse lain in this: that the mere of our social intercourse have physical maintenance of life has been till now the one object of our care a real care that has devoured our souls and for your — . preconceived ideas. its deviations. so little In the history of man dependent upon is made." This Heavenly Father will then be no other than the social wisdom of mankind. this movement shall attain one day. and not the ordered movement of a mighty stream. what ye shall put on. When mankind knows.158 social THE GERMAN CLASSICS movement can true Art lift itself its present post of honor. Let us glance. and the twain can only reach it when they recognize it jointly. — life. and that only in the community of all men can this purpose be fulfilled. should be other than the direct opposite of the present. and its floods. Each has a common goal. to whom Revolution Beauty! is it shall give his Strength.

. in vastly higher measure. shall Under every fold men by real free. in every race. has lain it on machines the artificial slaves of free creative man. dull and wretched. and.ART AND REVOLUTION 159 bodies and well nigh lamed each spiritual impulse. . so only that this care might be a little lightened. can never more be lost to it. for it is the free of the . a thrall of com- merce. of heaven's canopy. as the Greeks upon their slaves. the Grecian element of life what with the Greek was the result of natural development. product of ages of endeavor. . But Art is beauty energized. Only the strong know love only love can fathom beauty The love of weaklings for only beauty can fashion Art. ever ready to give up the last vestige of the freedom of his will. Thus shall we regain. the love of the strong for the weak is pity and forbearance but the love of the strong for the strong is love. This care has made man weak and slavish. . When the brotherhood of man has cast this care forever from it. a creature that can neither love nor hate . — whom he has served the idol his till now as own hands have made fetish-votary — then man's whole will the serves enfranchized energy proclaim itself as naught but pure artistic impulse. each other can only manifest as the goad of lust the love . will remain with us a conquered knowledge for what mankind in its wide communion doth truly know. by strength to truest love to beauty. will be with us the . the strong is abasement and fear. dom grow up and by true love to equal strength . weak for surrender to one who cannot compel us. what was to him a halfunconscious gift.

whose peculiar epigrammatic force it is well-nigh impossible to convey in a translation. Permission Kegan Paul. that it should have been written when the R. this too stepped self -begotten into life. " the following sections of this chapter give most positive answer in the former " Will. Darwinian theory unpublished. For it must not be forgotten that Wagner was at the period of writing this essay. In our opinion. Man. It is unnecessary to draw special attention to individual sentences. " " Will's and the gradual evolution of the manifestation. according to her need (" Bediirfniss "). then man spontaneIn like manner. Only that which is un-capricious and un-arbitrary can spring from a real need but on Need only is based the very principle of lif e.f . completely of even the existence of as indeed was almost the whole world ignorant Another curious reflecthe sage of Frankfort (vide Wagner's letters to Liszt) tion BTOUWd by this chapter is. and Art S man stands When Nature had to Nature. Ltd. developed in herself those attributes which included the conditions for the existence of man. This same necessity is the generative and formative force of human life." the whole scheme is Schopenhauerian from beginning to end.. they ana sense. so stands Art to man. the Future. from elementary force to Intellect and Spirit. — Tbaitbi environment upon evolution was as yet ltob. but an attentive perusal of this pregnant chapter cannot fail to bring home to those conversant with Schopenhauer's Wille und Yoratellung the remarkable fact that two cognate minds have developed an almost identical system of philosophy. Trench. — — . if of the influence of even formed. London. are of the highest significance as bearing upon the much debated question whether Wagner's philosophy was selforiginated or derived from that of Schopenhauer. might have been written by that greatest philos- opher of the century. as soon as ously evolved.. f The above sentences. and long after." but rather Except that Wagner does not employ the term Necessity. Nature engenders her myriad forms without caprice or arbitrary aim (" absichtlos und unwilkiirlich "). human life had engendered from itself the conditions for the manifestment of art-work.MAN AND ART IN GENERAL* (1849) TRANSLATED BY WILLIAM ASHTON ELLIS Nature. and therefore of necessity (" Nothwendigkeit "). * Triibner From The Art-Work of & Co. [180] .

xv— 11 . and if man's life is the very activaless Vol. anthropomorphic. instinctive energy for the arbitrary demeanor of disconnected finite forces. and verily by man himself. when he took the endless harmony of her unconscious. From the moment when man perceived the difference between himself and Nature. and therefore in his own existence no mutual bond of union between than in Nature's being. who only through discriminating between himself and Nature has attained that point where he can apprehend her. thus not only recognizing the all natural phenomena. the history of the birth of knowledge out of error is the history of the human race." But this distinction is merged once more. and perceives the same necessity in all the elements and lives around him. and sciousness. in fathoming the necessity of phenomena whose underlying basis had appeared to us caprice. so long as he does not grasp the latter. from the time when he set the cause of Nature's workings outside the bounds of Nature's self. Through this knowledge does Nature grow conscious of herself. when man recognizes the essence of Nature as his very own. erred. and Man for the physical phenomena subsumed a super-physical. but also his own community with Nature. — down to the present day. by making her his " object.MAN AND ART Man IN GENERAL 161 only recognizes Nature's necessity by observing the harmonious connection of all her phenomena. by her solidarity with man. she seems to him caprice. from the myths of primal ages aroused. thereby — evolved the faculty of thought from that moment did error begin. by breaking loose from the unconsciousness of natural animal life and passing over into conscious life when he thus looked Nature in the face and from the first feelings of his dependence on her. Knowledge consists in the laying of this error. If Nature then. attains in man her consciousness. as the earliest utterance of conBut error is the mother of knowledge. and thus commenced his own development as man. and arbitrary cause.

and not the arbitrary statutes of the State. when she has no more to blush for her — — . while Art can only overcome her dependence upon life through her oneness with the life of free and genuine men. But only in the joyous consciousaffinity with actual Life. For as man only then becomes free.* and truth. . a conscious following of the only real necessity. . shall model and ordain his life. dictated by the maxims of this or that religion. when he gains the glad consciousness of his oneness with Nature so does Art only then gain freedom. —R.162 THE GERMAN CLASSICS it — as — so does man's brief of Nature tion of this consciousness life itself were. until she therefore need no longer borrow the conditions of her being from the errors. The real man will therefore never be forthcoming. is will never be that which he can and should be. Art in general. the portrayal of the life it has learnt to know. but an arbitrary power. until Man his life is a true mirror of Nature. nationality. until its embodiments need be subject only to the laws of Nature. Then first will man become a living man whereas till now he carries on a mere existence. nature-bidden life. the impress of this life's neces- Art. and not to the despotic whims of mode. the inner natural necessity. In like manner will Art not be the thing she can and should be. and is no longer held in subjugation to an outer artificial counterfeit which is thus no necessary. WAG5ER. that sity consciousness attained by science. the portraiture in gain understand- ing by means of science. or the Art of the Future in particular. • That i«. and of man's genuine. and unnatural distortions of our modern life. until she therefore need no longer borrow the conditions of the real man. which makes this human life in But the activation of the turn an object of experience. perversities. while real Art will never live. or state. ness of his oneness with Nature does man subdue his dependence on her. until true human nature.

has dreamed of such a triumph. Irrevocably. next. barren children of this dream. could it usurp the vital impulse and divert it to some other purpose than the great necessity of absolute life-needs: then were Life itself dethroned. The great instinctive errors of the people which found their earliest utterance in religion. would — — error reign in destructive triumph throughout eternity: did not the same life-force which blindly bore it." was from of old the inclusive term for all the units which made up the total of a commonality. the proceeding further. in theology and philosophy have reared themselves. and that so decisively and palpably. in her overweening arrogance. to powers which make no less a claim than to govern and ordain the world and life by virtue of their innate and divine infallibility. as witness our tight-reined State and modern Art. by the Christian religion which admitted Roman world-dominion which . by the engulfed the nations. in these sciences and their coadjutrix and adopted sister. In the beginning. with all its arrogant divorce from force. by virtue of its innate. Practically. Who before then the folk? It is absolutely necessary that. And truly science. and theoretically. that intellife. could life itself mutation into be made dependent upon scientific speculation. it was the family and the tribe. " The folk. we should agree upon answer to this weightiest of questions. can see at last no other refuge from actual insanity. once more effectually annihilate it. and swallowed up in science.MAN AND ART The redemption IN GENERAL 163 The Folk and Art of thought and science and their transart-work would be impossible. statecraft. the tribes united by like speech into a nation. than in the unconditional acknowledgment of this only definite and visible lect. And is this vital force is — the folk (das Volk). natural necessity. then. Could conscious autocratic thought completely govern Life. the sexless. and then became the starting-points of arbitrary speculation and system-making.

can a separate people? certain. : party. vidual want as a collective want. But beyond a frivolous. has a right to its assuagement. For only that want which urges to the uttermost. then. men. victoriously. or either include in it mankind political hypothesis. . and no one will permit himself to be excluded from it. or find it based thereon. all those who can hope for the stilling of their want in nothing but the stilling of a common want. Therefore in these latter days also has the question frequently been Who then is the broached. a upon the arbitrary and generally the propertyless portion of the commonwealth. each one gives out that he is careful for the people's weal. and who are its sworn foes? . and therefore irresistibly. a particular fraction of the said body claim this name for itself alone? Rather. are we not all alike f 1 the people. but only the assuagement of a genuine need is necessity. no racial. or. but only Christian men even evaporated.. . that we in general. that in times of stir and trouble all men are eager to number themselves among the people. and on account of this it is. as follows: The " folk " is the epitome of all those men who feel a common and To it collective all want (" gemeinschaftliche Not''). naught — the idea of " the people " has e. and therefore spend their whole life's strength upon the stilling of their thus acknowledged common want. but this want alone is the force of true need (" Bediirfnis ") but a common and collective need is the only true need but only he who feels within him a true need. is genuine want. this term has also acquired an ineradicable moral meaning. in the most diverse of senses In the sum total of the body politic." from the beggar to the prince? This question must therefore be answered according to the conclusive and world-historical sense that now lies at its root. may so far broadened out. ergo. and it is the folk alone that acts according to necessity's behests. of those who recognize their indibelong.164 of THE GERMAN CLASSICS but i. Who now are they who belong not to this people. and right as none besides.

A J .


mirth. it never more can still. . Luxury is as heartless. insatiable. The error of it. with all its hea ping-up and over-reaching. inhuman. For only by forcing back. is king. there blossoms every vice. and egoistic. heart. in which it is spent: but unwanting need. and where caprice . For this need itself is no natural and therefore satisfiable one by very reason that. it lives upon the unstilled hunger of a thousand thousand poor. being false. torments and burns. therefore. satiety. is in itself already luxury and superfluity. can the false and artificial need endeavor to assuage itself. and every criminal assault on Nature. and swallows up all gladness. can never go over into truth. though impotent to satiate its own for but the twinkling of an eye it holds a whole world within the iron chains of despotism. no necessary action. the necessities of others. — — Where there is no want. without the power to momentarily break the golden chains of that arch-tyrant which it is unto itself. essential antithesis in which it may be spent. consumed. . it leaves brain. it has no true. But where there is no necessary action. and thus is artificial. there reigns caprice. there is not true need where no true need. but which. by feeding the need that craves for luxury. devours. and not only is not embraced within a common need. but as the empty need of preserving superfluity as which alone can one conceive of need without the force of want is diametrically opposed to the collective need. and yet unreachable moment of refreshment. and sense forever vainly yearning. cost of. whose life-spring therefore consists in a need which rises not to the potence of a want. and egoistic as the " need " which called it forth. — — . Actual physical hunger has its natural antithesis.MAN AND ART IN GENERAL 165 All those who feel no want. by barring and refusing the assuagement of true need. and at the . But the satisfaction of an artificial need is luxury which can only be bred and supported in opposition to. and satisfied. For sake of one sole. it squanders the toil and life-sweat of a thousand needy wanters. without an instant's stilling. untrue. and joy of life. it racks.

the is . Under the Sway of Abstract Thought and Fashion Fashion is the artificial stimulus that rouses an unnatural need where the natural is not to hand. it will teach the tortured. this need of luxury. — — The Art. our great redeemer and well-doer.Antagonistic Shape of Present Life. of the unwilful. In common. in fellowship shall we taste their genuine joys. which hurls immaterial God.166 THE GERMAN CLASSICS need of need withal this fiend. Nature. will be the mutual art-work of the future. heralds and supfor in this art-work we shall all be one of necessity. which is luxury And this itself sovereign of the world. for his consumption. and the clear sweet springs of . homely need of sheer human. — — soul of our deistic science. willers porters blissful men. and tyrannical. that need which by satisfaction. Art! stipulation. Fashion is therefore the uncalled-for. shall sity. betokeners of Nature too. also. the Who State? then will bring to pass the rescue from this baleful Want — which shall teach the world its to recognize its own true need. to turn them to machines the soul of our State which swears awav men's honor. But in this. . knowers of the unconscious. and grow up in communion to veritable men. the better than to take them back as lieges of its grace. very nature admits of will cut short the hell of luxury. of our — It is — alas! — the men down before an sum of intellectual soul. — we close the last link in the bond of holy necesand the brother-kiss that seals this bond. will no longer be a severed and peculiar class. need-lacking spirits whom this hell embraces in its Want bounds the simple. this crack-brained need-without-a-need. physical hunger and thirst but in fellowship will it point us to the health-giving bread. the product of the luxury. It is the soul of that industry which deadens men. necessity's vicegerent in the flesh the folk. is arbitrary. but whatsoever does not originate in a real need.

Nature. from whom alone she must at bottom draw her nourishment. Its motive force therefore arbitrary alteration. flourishes. the tough. most unheard-of tyranny that has ever issued demands from Nature an absoartificial. . must Nature be regarded as the height of absurdity. but a mere artificial deriving from her opposite. in substance and in form. she orders and commands. just as the luxury of the upper classes feeds only on the straining of the lower. there must the utterance of Nature appear the fellest crime. But her procedure is an arrogant one. there must truth herself be prisoned under lock and bar. sexless. unnecessary change. The soul of fashion is the most absolute uniformity. where everything in . Habit is the communism of egoism. and those bereft of veritable need. unyielding swathe of mutual. laboring classes toward assuagement of their natural life-needs. to let him Where the absurdest fashion find content in weakness. confused and restless striving after the opposite of its essential uniformity. in its farthest aberrations. she finally can think out and invent naught else than what already is at hand in Nature and in man. freefrom-want self-interest. Fashion is therefore no artistic begetting from herself. Like all our abstract thinking. capriciously cut loose from all Nature. barren god. as crazy. its artificial life-pulse is even that of fashion. Its might is the might of habit. it dictates to real disownment in favor of an need a thorough selfit compels man's natural sense of beauty to worship at the shrine of what is hateful. and reigns.MAN AND AKT from man's perversity. and gewgaws have at the last their archetype in Nature. where craziness usurps the place of truth. it kills his health. there is god an egoistic. therefore. lute obedience. her reshapings. The caprice of fashion. where the most criminal un-Nature reigns. to bring him to delight in sickness it breaks his strength and all his force. can only draw upon the stores of actual Nature. cowards. But habit its is the invincible despot that rules all weaklings. it IN GENERAL 167 maddest.

and that by the natural begettal of its conditionments from out of life. of every mean. the endeavor of many an enthusiastic artist of our times could only be directed to rousing first that necessary need. The one impos. the finding and discerning of Nature. in absorption into the machine. and there to slake its need in understanding. then art-work is itself impossible and only the future can call it forth for us. from the standpoint and by the means of Art yet we must look on all such efforts as vain and fruitless. she can but derive. and not invent. economy. for invention. for the artistic need cannot possibly be present where fashion is the lawgiver of life. But the mechanical is herein distinguished from the artistic: that it to fares from derivative to derivative. dishonored and disowned. instead of in absorption into Nature in the art-work. Through the machine have they at last made even human reason their liege subject. from means to means. but never to evoke it where Nature has withheld where its conditionments are not contained in her it. is naught but finding out. Fashion's invention is therefore mechanical.168 truth is THE GERMAN CLASSICS bound Thus with all her to hearken and obey. Thus the machine is the cold and heartless ally of luxurycraving men. finally bring forth but one more mean. But if the craving for art-work does not exist. to arrive at last at the source of every derivation. : Whereas the artistic strikes the very opposite path throws means on means behind it. In truth. sibility for mind is. The need of fashion is thus the diametrical antithesis of the need of art. pierces through derivative after derivative. in Nature's self. it consumes itself at last in mechanical refinements. she can but disfigure Nature. the machine. . in effect. for. man always has the speedy means to hand. to awaken a real need : — to answer to an actual present need. led astray from Art's discovery. and not portray figurings her.

where life is modeled upon fashion. it yearns for unreserved acknowledgment of Nature. therefore. the fairest and the noblest custom is nay. either a thing incomprehensible. mind wilfully influexercises its mon " — life. and finally in least. If. ence upon its involuntarily the matter and the form of — life . Art can never fashion aught from life. disfiguring in such a manner unhappy in its separation. in its striving for redemption. so soon as e'er it steps before our present public less. can no more find the matter and the form for its assuagement in actual present life. in the physical actuality of the artwork yet it sees that this reconciliation can nevermore be : gained by acknowledgment and portrayal of its actual surroundings. of this fashion-governed parody of life. IN GENERAL 169 from which alone can even the need for can Art obtain her matter and her form. her most certainly the least disfigurement of Nature But the copying and reproduction of fitting human garb. governed dealing. distortion. The simplest if not of fashion. at last faithfulest portrayal. or else another f re shly-f angled fashion. without which the modern artist can never this custom is still. Straying far away from the necessity of and even in the so-called " comNature. Involuntarily. it must seek for which in sound and wholesome life would rush Nature amid times and places where it can recognize to meet it — — her in Yet everywhere and everywhen has natural man thrown on the garment. — — — life. still of custom (" Sitte "). . but her grow up. and if it can only reconcile itself with her in her that mind. in manage to effect his portraiture of Nature an irreclaimably arbitrary and purposeface of modern life. must it pursue an arbitrary course in its struggle for redemption by Art. and most natural. and whatsoever has been thus formed and fashioned by even the honestest striving after Nature. and longing for sustenance by Nature and its complete re-union healthy with her. appears.MAN AND ART Only from life.

so does she give them back to them own enunciation. the action of the body's outer members. Does she receive from her sisters the conditions under which she manifests herself. •From The Art-Work Trtibner of If tone obtains the Future. Through tone are dance and poetry brought to mutual understanding: in her are intercrossed in loving blend the laws by which they each proclaim their own true nature in her. [170] . as the conditions of their If dance convevs to tone her own peculiar law of motion. Ltd. the wilfulness of each becomes . its conscious speech. She is the full and flowing heart-love. more intelligible motion. Trench. gives to the outwardtakes this while it feeds the facing flesh its warai and lively tint — inward-coursing brain-nerves with its welling pulse.THE ART OF TONE* |HE ocean binds and (1849) TRANSLATED BY WILLIAM ASHTON ELLIS separates the land: so does music bind and separate the two opposite poles of human Art. for the meas- ure of more noble. the art of tone.. " w ill " (" Univillkiirlichen ").. Without the heart's activity. in infinite embellishment. the measure of poetry and the beat of dance become the undictated rhythm instinctive r of the heart-throb. Permission Kegan Paul. and humanizes immaterial thought. the arts of dance and poetry. so does tone bring it back to her with soul and sense embodied in her rhythm. Through the heart the understanding feels itself allied " with the whole bodv. the blood. But the organ of the heart is tone. that ennobles the material sense of pleasure. and the man of mere " rive-senses mounts upward to the energy of reason. a mechanical and senseless motion. She is the heart of man. London. & Co. which heart for starting-point. the action of the brain would be no more than of a mere automaton.

the programme for — while the play-concoctor imports from the far-off continent of dance just so much leg-gymnastics as he deems expedient for filling up a halting situation. If melody and rhythm are the shores ! — through which the art of tone lays fruitful hands upon twain continents of art. forever must they rest dissundered some outcome of machinery. shall bridge the waste! Then men shall start therefrom. since the his novel ballet . allied to her of yore so is sound : . ensouled by tone. but cannot yet express their thought with all the truth and and hands it as the direct utterance cogence of necessity of feeling. entwined by meaning and by measure. perchance a railroad. to cross the open sea. then. — sooth upon their steamboats. that indirectly shadow forth in images. the breath of all-enlivening breezes replaced by sickening fumes from the machine. materialized and endlessly enhanced and beautified. Even as the dance-wright fetches from the continent of poetry across the steam-tamed ocean crests of music. both dance In rhythm and poetry regain their own true essence. But melody and rhythm are the arms of tone. If this sea draws backward from the shores. or wherever else men choose to go. with which she locks her sisters in the close embrace of triple growth they are the shores through which the sea herself unites two continents. Let us see. then can no light-winged ship bear aught from either continent until unto the other. what matters it? ward. for- — — . the unerring vindicator and redeemer melody. for picturing tone's nature. Blow the winds of heaven eastthe machine shall clatter westward. what has come to sister tone. and takes it as a solid mesh of thought wherewith to gird her boundless fluid mass of sound: so does she hand her sister back this ideal coil of yearning syllables. Drama death of all-loving father We cannot yet give up our simile of the ocean. and broadens out the waste of an abyss between itself and each of them.THE ART OF TONE 171 from poetry her pregnant coil of sharp-cut words. and thus they learn to know and love themselves. and in melody.

refreshed and radiant. Man dives into this sea only to give himself once more. and her yearning. to the light of day. . the blossom. pregnant with unimaginable possibilities whose bottom his eye shall never plumb. blithelyground of its : . His heart feels widened wondrously. it Upward from its lightless bottom a sun-bright mirror. and ever roused afresh by its eternal longing. infinity. and its immeasurable expanse of waters make out the sea of harmony. This Nature is. which holds within its shrine the feelings of desire and love in their most infinite capacity. by the lightning if he ruffle with his swelling breath of his glancing eye then let the fire crackle as the elastic crystal of the sea the flame of this desire moving man incend — — . if it comprehend If this sea stir up its waters of beget the commotion from the depths of its own element then is this agitation an endless one and never pacified for ever returning on itself unstilled. the fulfilled. whose seeming bottomlessness thus fills him with the sense of marvel and the presage of It is the depth and infinity of Nature herself. . The eye knows but the surface of this sea. who veils from the prying eye of man the unfathomable womb of her eternal seed-time. which is itself it desire and love. when he peers down into this depth. however. none other than the nature of tlte human heart itself. the begotten.172 itself THE GERMAN CLASSICS her fluent. if this measuregiving object step toward it from the sure and sharply outlined world of manifestment if sun-girt. sinking into waves of melodv. and longing yet wills nothing but itself itself. her begetting. — as in insatiable — can only grasp and its itself. slender. from the shady valleys of the other arise the yearning zephyrs that rouse this restful surface to the grace of swelling. native element. even because man's eye can only grasp the already manifested. But if the vast reach of this desire be kindled by an outward object.widening expands rings of rhythm cross over on it from one shore. its depth the depth of heart alone can fathom. the ever.

boundlessly alone. and fenced his sea around. will shine with mild serenity of light the sea -rind. but never reached. until he fell a-doubting of — the virtue of his compass. trees and flowers and men. On the surface of the water were truly mirrored back to him the jutting coasts. But the sailor never reached that confine. with all their peaks and valleys. grimly overboard. never let the coast-line fade from sight for him it was the trusty stream that bore him from one haven to the next. and it pointed him unswervingly toward heaven. it. Farther afield. will crisp itself at last to the soft play of rippling waves. there bending ear to sacred hymns whose melodious string of meaning words was wafted by the breezes from the temple on the mountain-top. will intrust himself to the beloved element in some frail coracle. In unstilled. when he took ship upon his sea. The Greek. denuded as the last remaining of he gave himself without a rudder to the neverending turmoil of the waves' caprice. ireful love-rage. and steer his steadfast course toward the beacon of that kindly light. rejoicing in the sweet harmony of his whole being. softly swayed by the fresh fan of gentle gusts. from century to century he floated on without redemption. he deemed was Harmony. The Christian left the shores of life. and man. he stirred the waters of the sea against the . the last foam-wreath of its giant crests dis- yet the flame bosom heave with ne'er so violent a at last. and cast human bauble.THE ART OF TONE it 173 may. and this — undulating mirror-picture. the word of faith was his only compass. let the ocean's storm. smoldered down. twixt sea and heaven. deep-set within the ether's blue. new home. when its wild glow has — solved. the stream on which he passed between the friendly strands amidst the : here lending glances to the music of his rhythmic oars wood-nymphs' dance. he sought the sea last upon the ocean. to find himself at beyond all confines. The word. This heaven brooded far above him. And now. all ties. it sank down on every side in the horizon. toward this ever imminent.

Bliss. round which the coasts are merely broadened out in unimaginably ampler circle. ever its unmixed self. and like the all-usurping. never happed-on into the realms of all heaven unlimited. reft of an external that deepest. but binds together with it for the new- . by the hero who explored the broad and seeming shoreless sea of absolute music unto its very bounds. and wills and wishes. real. and thus to bind in one each continent of earth. but damns itself sea from out its — to everlasting selfish solitude. must ever only crave and love itself unredeemable hell of restless egoism. that universal long- — — — of bliss. yet ever and forever he urged it 'gainst the can only wish and will itself abstract universalism of heaven's blue. the elements condense at last to definite show and even the boundless sea of Christian yearning found the new shore on which its turbid waves might break. did his world-historical discovery convert the narrow-seeing national-man into a universal and all-seeing man: so. object. most unbounded measure the height without an end. and yet to stay completely wrapt in self this was the unallayable desire of Christian passion. Through his discovery the wide ocean is now not only meted out. unconfined draws bounds around itself. Did Columbus teach us to take ship across the ocean. unconditioned bliss to gain in widest. So reared the : deepest depth to heaven. so sank it ever back again to its own depths. Where on the farthest horizon . meastherefore ever unappeased ureless desire of the heart that never will give itself and dare to be consumed in an external object.174 THE GERMAN CLASSICS unattainable and distant heaven: he urged the insatiate greed of that desire and love which. but made for men an inland sea. there did the seafarers discover land at last — man-ten- anted. which stretches out — " " against the very object ing without the shadow of an vault of absolute un-objectivity. are won the new and never dreamt-of coasts which this sea no longer now divorces from the old and primal continent of man. we thought gateway boldest of to find the ever made-for. Yet in Nature each immensity strives after measure the . and blissful land.

just as the elemental tone . constitutes the only possibility of absolute harmonic move- The feeling of needful care for the of this motion in breadth is foreign to the beauty nature of absolute harmony. the mere babbling of implicit. but not the grace of their marshalling in point of for that is the time. by the joining-together and overlaying of correlated tone-stuffs. But the more this word evaporated tian creed." her columns' changing play of color. child-like love. show herself capricious. that toneless. And — — word. she took as her unrelinquishable. On the other hand. yet not the human-breathing spirit of the musing (" dichtende ") word. The struggle for such shaping is the building up of harmony. scattering of humility. none other than When tone unloosed her from the chain of sisters. As she had abandoned her rhythmic beat to parting dance's use and pleasure. she thenceforth built upon the word alone the word of Chris. while the lifebreath which en-souls and sets in motion this restless. she knows but the beauty of ' ' ' ' ment "in breadth. and self-conditioning change. to in constant change of garb. the inexhaustible ' ' ' ' — variety of this play of colors is the ever-fruitful source on which she draws. but only its bare corporeal condensation (" verdichtete ") into tones. so much the more imperatively did tone see herself impelled to shape herself from out the into the mere stammer exhaustless depths of her own liquid nature. In the kingdom of harmony all-dominating there is therefore no beginning and no end.THE ART OF TONE born. with immoderate self-satisfaction. Unceasing alternation of such columns. this 175 happy is art-life of the Beethoven. the outbreathing of an unfathomable. fluid. work of rhythm. heart 's-desire. soon gave to her complete dominion over it. her foremost lif e 's-condition just as light-minded sister dance had niched from her her rhythmic measure from thoughtful sister poetry her hero — manhood of the future. is the essence of itself. Harmony grows from below upward as a perpendicular pillar. word which. Tin-withstanding and right gladly. each freshly risen member taking rank beside its fellows.

it commanded both beginning and ending. but when it was engulfed in the bottomless depths of harmony. were unite themselves into one standard. of that unrhythmic melody. nor in the logical induction of the thinking it cannot set up for itself its standard in the recogbrain nized necessity of the material world of show. nothing but longing. harmony must mold from out its own immensurate depths the laws for — — — These laws of harmonic sequence."f then was the the music of the Catholic Church summit of word capriciously hoisted to the capitals of those harmonic columns. vor Schnsueht literal t tticht zu sterl>en!" in is music against me. defends •Compare Tristan und Isolde. which sets up salutary its own following. 1852). on the nature of — — — im Sterben mich — a passage which has more than but which almost a any other been ascribed to Schopenhauer's the present instance.176 THE GERMAN CLASSICS objectless and self-devouring fervor of the soul. There is no other artistic faculty of man that answers to the character of harmony: it cannot find its mirror in the physical precision of the movements — — of the body.spheres." thus dying without death. Summoned by outer not by inner necessity to resolve on surer and more finite manifestment.' and 'groanings and sighings of the soul!' " Translator. I have got a . — Translator. i. pretty millstone hung about my neck! — . formed by the affinity of tonestuffs the chords. dying withyearning. Act 3. is nothing but itself. physically-governed properties: it is like a nature-force which men perceive but cannot comprehend.. while the measureless harmonic possibilities must draw from out themselves the laws for their own finite manif estment. based affinity just as those harmonic columns. tossing. e. D. So long as the word was in power. and cast as though from wave to wave. Is not that delicious? He appeals to 'harmonies of the Well. and dying out. when it became naught but 44 as on the ardent groanings and sighings of the soul. reproduction of the words used See Wagner's Letters to Uhlig (Letter 67 — July.* and therefore everlastingly falling back upon itself. "E. "Sehnen! Sehnen influence. all ignorant of its source. like thought. pining — out having assuaged itself in any " object. zu sehnen. nor like corporeal motion in the periodic calculation of its instinctive.

rhythmic livening. This rhythmic interchange and shaping. the countless laws of harmonic decorum can neither give nor govern. which harmony. with its multiple births and offshoots. Counterpoint. their parting and uniting. and yet the art of tone. lay at the not the feeling. however. their change. which moved not of its inner. was its motive power. their recurrence. had taken up into herself. invention. the mechanical rhythm of egoistic harmony. abstract tone indulged her whim to pass as the sity. and extend the possibility of union by elective-affinity (" TYahlverwandtschaftliche lies. 177 bounds around the giant playground of capricious possiThey allow the most varied choice from amid the kingdom of harmonic families. in struggle for her selfish close. now turned to harmony. could therefore only borrow life from arbitrary laws and canons. will-ing man. But no inner neces- — — exposition. such as proclaims himself by speech and bodily motion. is Art's artificial playing. must condense the fluid breadths of as word had earlier done with tone and bring harmony their periods to more sure conclusion. the mathematics of feelIn its ing. As the scientifically teachable or learnable department of the art of tone. thinking. but they cannot assign the periodic measure of these fenced-off masses. all Verbindungen ") with the members of neighboring famialmost to free liking. they demand. But this end itself.with-itself. When the limit-setting might of speech was swallowed up. nothing but an outer necessity. they can cleave the fluid tonal masses of harmony asunder. striving after purely this human bottom of Vol. and thus the measure of the composition's extension in time. Rhythmic figures must now enliven harmony . and a faithful tarrying with it.THE ART OF TONE bilities. for sake of a happy end. before a strict observance of the house-laws of affinity of the family once chosen. own necessity. could never find her time-assigning law within herself: then was she forced to face toward the remnant of the rhythmic beat that dance had left for her to garner. and part them into fenced-off bodies. XV — 12 . These laws and canons are those of counterpoint.

but only the singing man. She had not grasped the entire man. according . owes its being. for that mechanical.178 THE GERMAN CLASSICS as that art which sole and only self-supporting Art. that had rested faithful to its own untarnished grace. soared-up on its elastic pinions to the regions of the beauty-lacking. a matter of the intellect. but purely to itself. to freshen herself therewith when needed. surely outlined song. Just as the art-dancer had set his and purposely insipid sentences. The wilful quite naturally believes itself the absolute and right monopolist and it is certain that to her own caprice alone could music thank .speculation. and practised themselves to imitate. with news of joyous ransom. The living breath of fair. — her self-sufficient airs. the natural folk-dance vary flingings. with all to convert it to — its innate generative force. to set men to sing longing it seized the folk-tune for its purpose. streaming ever fresh and young from the bosom of artifice heap. so did the which he could not of himself develop further legs. but merely the melodic tune. immortal. not pipes. Music therefore. closewoven with the poem. and — an artificial compost according to the dicso did this genteel operatic tates of her modish taste tone-art behave to the folk-tune. had become her own direct antithesis: from a heart's concern. to no human need soever. to paint men again. in her pride. the simple. but only its was warbling throat that men could fathom. blew this contrapunctal house of cards. and in his song she had not seized the ballad of the folk. with their manifold but still and gyrations. the cashbook of a modern market. contrapunctal was quite incapable of answering any soul-need. its absolute and godlike nature. from the utterance of unshackled Christian soul's-desire. abstracted from the poem. to show him in his whole artistic stature and nature-bidden necessity. nobly-feeling human voice. But just as dance had seized the folk-dance. scientifically-musical This world was art-world. too. monotonous bendings. to — . and constructed so out of it the opera-air. of a The folk-tune. to which she set conventional it to her pleasure not the beating heart of the nightingale. the folk.

such as cries out from the modern operatic aria for truly it is nothing but a mutilated folk-tune. now tickles the imbecile ears of our opera-frequenters with its We must content ourlifeless. the inmost individual essence of tone was yet to soar up from its plumbless depths. ineffably repulsive disfigurement and rending of the folk-tune. and. by reason of the ease with which their blended forces took up the element of Christian harmony. soul-less toy of fashion. those tunes which he had stolen from the people's mouth. those tone-implements which mechanism had devised for dance's ample escort had been elaborated to ever more enhanced expressive faculty. the rhythmic melody had been consigned to their exclusive care. As bearers of the dancetune. in entire contempt of Nature and all human tion feeling. but whose nature he could never fertilize afresh. eternally repeated until it lost itself in utter dearth of thought. to alter by a host of flourishes. and thus another species of mechanical dexterity filled up the place which contrapunctal ingenuity had left forlorn. future. "We need not further characterize the repugnant. though mournfully.THE ART OF TONE 179 art-singer set his throat to paraphrase with countless ornaments. avowing that our modern public sums up in it its whole idea of music's — — essence. the human voice had shrunk at last to a mere physical and flexible implement of tone: yet. further evolution of the basis of the richest The harmonized dance is the art-work of the modern symphony. portrayed in musical rhythm. Though in the Christian lisping of the stereotyped word. selves with candidly. and in no wise a specific fresh invensuch as. But apart from this public and its subservient fashionmongers and mode-purveyors. by its side. and severed from all basis of poetic speech. . to art of tone them now fell the from out call for all itself. one art of the And this spring it was to take from off that ground which is the ground of all sheer human art: the plastic motion of the body. in all the unlost plenitude of its unmeasured faculties. to redemption in the sunlight of the universal.

the symphony In the symphony of Haydn the rhythmic dance-melody moves with all the blithesome freshness of youth. peculiar to the character of song. This of art-work. that voice toward which his genius bent with overmastering love. and re-unitings. in recompense the depth of feeling and of fervor that forms the exhaustless source of human utterance within the restless care to give inmost chambers of the heart. and. and Beethoven. with all to remarkable dexterity in counterpoint. yet hardly show a trace of the results of such ingenious treatment. and made it now to take its turns and capers from its rules. its en- twinements. He breathed into his instruments the passionate breath of human voice. he lifted up the "singing" power of . as though in it. but rather take the character peculiar to a dance ordained by so redolent are they of the warm laws of freest fantasy — and actual breath of joyous human life. though carried out with highest contrapunctal ingenuity. Yet it needed but the warm life-breath of the natural folk-tune to beat this schooled upon and contrapunctal dance the leathern harness of — and is lo ! it stretched at once to the elastic flesh of fairest human art-work. in its highest culmination. through soaring gradua" tion and repeats "enlivened by most manifold expression. Haydn. disseverings. departed little from those traditional canons which he himself helped forward to stability. bodyswaying dance. Whilst.180 THE GERMAN CLASSICS this Even " harmonized dance " fell as a savory prey into the hands of counterpoint-concocting mechanism. Mozart his some extent made short work of everything that lay apart from this his individual impulse. only mouthed by instruments. He led the stanchless stream of teeming harmony into the very heart of melody. of Mozart. in his symphonies. which loosed it from obedient devotion to its mistress. This form of melody became the very element of the symphony of song-abundant. To the more tempered motion of the middle section of the symphony we see assigned by Haydn a broad expansion of the simple song-tune of the folk in this its spreads by laws of melos . and song-glad Mozart.

and words and phrases of a speech in which a message hitherto unheard. it longed for the unmeasured utterance of this unfathomed yearning. in distinction from was capable. then the endlessness of such utterance. It was Beethoven who opened up the boundless faculty of instrumental music for expressing elemental storm and His power it was. connected tracts of sound. that took the basic essence of the stress. and clove in twain the fetters Harmonic melody for so must we desigof its freedom. like that of the yearning itself. but the whole depth of endless heart 's-desire. in the selfsame tongue that was naught but If the utterance of immeasurable heartits expression? be vented in this elemental speech of absolute yearning tone. is its How only true necessity. the yearning . such as could be exercised by none but a tone-poet who est fragments. of the most limitless expression together with the most unfettered treatment. Glad in this unspeakably expressive language. then proclaim the end. that bottomless sea of unhedged fulness and unceasing motion. Was his faculty of speech unending the yearning which inspired that speech with its eternal to itself. and never spoken yet. of this yearning. not satisfy itself outside — the — breath. the satisfaction. could only — happy-wretched and sea-weary mariner sought for a surer haven sea-glad wherein to anchor from the blissful storms of passionate so also was tumult. syllables. though merely the rhythmic melody of dance borne by instruments. — nate this melody divorced from speech. In long. could promulgate itself. Each letter of this speech was an infinitely soul-full element. but suffera ing beneath the weight of longing of his artist soul be an " object " longing which. and the measure of the joinery of these elements was utmost free commensuration. Christian's harmony. smaller. not onlv to embrace the mirth and inward still content which it had learnt from Haydn. in its infinity.THE ART OF TONE 181 instrumental music to such a height that it was now enabled. or even small- — turned beneath the master's poet-hand to vowels. as in larger.

without a moral handhold." employ in his in order to steer his ship from the He ocean of infinite yearning to the haven of fulfilment! was able to raise the utterance of his music almost to a moral resolve. and Absolute music. which must always be conceived as that of mirth. but not as that deed itself. for reason that it takes its measure from an originally outward-lying object. — the moral will. If a tone-piece yield itself ab initio to this expression. she can now and never. — it holds within itself the necessary grounds of every of " satisfaction. in greater or in less degree then. but not to speak aloud that final word and after every onset of the will. sion which it of sound — borrows from Now by the definite expresthe rhythmic dance-melody. physical. in keeping with the character of infinite yearning. without indulging in the most arbitrary of assumptions. and therefore speech. art . even mid the most luxuriant unfolding of the faculty of tonal richest. she enters in the train of the ethical deed. bring the physical and ethical man to distinct and plainly recognizEven in her most infinite enhancement." But." while equally inevitably must phase " be a matter of this " satisfaction caprice. The transition from the endless agitation of desire to a mood of joyous satisfaction. this object can be none other than such an one as shows itself with finite. she still is but emotion. " C-minor symphony. marked bounds dividing her from such an object. What inimitable did Beethoven . namely the motion of the body. in truth unsatisfying. can necessarily take place no otherwise than by the ascension of desire into an " object. however. able presentment.182 THE GERMAN CLASSICS finite shutting-off cannot find contentment in any for that could only be caprice. she can set moods and feelings side by side. of her own unaided powers. but not evolve one mood from out she lacks another by any dictate of her own necessity. when that sure and sharp-cut mode of utterance endeavors merely thus to terminate the storms of endless yearning. finds wellethical exactitude. instrumental music may well portray and bring to close a placid and self-bounded mood.

Toward this actuality he was impelled with all the force of the was Man." upon With reverent awe. there he felt that he yearning thrust back deep into his breast before the sovereignty of sweet and blissful manifestment. of Countrv Life But in very deed they were only "reminiscences" pictures. which he built from this idyllic mood. felt all his : — ' * — artist's his tone-shapes that inexpugnable (" notwendig ") yearning. this falling-back must almost seem to us more necessary than the morally ungrounded triumph. he shunned to cast himself afresh He into that sea of boundless and insatiate yearning. after vanquished minor '-tribulation. along the outskirt of some fragrant wood beneath the sunny heaven. as of being led to lasting victory. that directly cognizable and physically sure stability. life-glad men he spied encamped on breezy meads. beside the tender gossip of the brook. more uncontented with this victory than Beethoven himself? Was he lief to win a second of the sort? 'Twas well enough for the brainless herd of imitators. and not the direct and physical actuality. but a mere arbitrary has not the power to lift us up and yield gift of grace to us that ethical satisfaction which we demand as outcome — — of the yearning of the heart.THE ART OF TONE we feel 183 tormented by the equal possibility of falling back again to suffering. the rustling of the leaves. amid dancing. To give same compactness. which therefore not being a necessary consummation. who from glorious " major "-jubilation. he superscribed the separate portions of the tone-work. felt 1 ' ' Who — turned his steps toward the blithesome. with the names of those life-pictures whose Reminiscences contemplation had aroused it in him " he called the whole. prepared themselves unceasing but not for the master. he made a happy pact with Nature. faithfully and in frank humility. There in shadow of the trees. which he had witnessed with such blessed solace in Nature's own phenomena . Nay. kissing. who was called to write triumphs li his works the world-history of music. So thankful was he toward this manifestment that. frolicking.

" R. Melody and harmony unite around the sturdy bones of deed rhythm to firm and fleshy giant limbs' agility. but now. it is dance in her highest aspect. be made. elastic pliance. been exploited by our modern instrumental-composers. without a pause. rhythm of the second section. it of gains for itself a sure and undishevelled outline from the stalwart figure How hrainlensly has this deeply significant device of Beethoven the tree. until. the deathless ." — with their eternal .* now wanton. now pensive. this longing melody dingl would like the ivy to the oak. is the strain sounds forth whole *Amid artistic man at hand. a the solemn-striding secondary theme its firm-set uplifts its wailing. eubsidiary themes.184 THE GERMAN CLASSICS was the — this soul of the joyous impulse which created " for us that glorious work the major. which now with and now with soft. But only where eye and ear confirm each other's sentience of him. close up the supple. straggling wreaths upon the soil. teeming ranks the while now gently. as it were the loftiest of bodily motion incorporated in an ideal mold of tone. which snatches us away with bacchanalian might and bears us through the roomy space of Nature. yearning song. a kiss of triumph seals the last embrace. in forlorn rankness. and forth. Waoneb. but from both substances together. shouting in glad self-consciousness as we tread throughout : the universe the daring measures of this human sphereThis symphony is the apotheosis of dance herself dance. the image of live-giving Zeus. almost before our very eyes. so were those of Beethoven only offered to the ear. And yet these happy dancers were merely shadowed Like a forth in tones. and again exulting." symphony in A All tumult. now with daring. human shapes. to that rhythm. now serious. Yet not from " thon " or tone. mere sounds that imitated men! second Prometheus who fashioned men of clay (" Tlion ") Beethoven had sought to fashion them of tone. must man. through all the streams and seas of life. all yearning and storming of the heart become here the blissful insolence of joy. in the last whirl of delight. while weaving a rich trapping for the rough oak-rind. Were Prometheus' moldings only offered to the eye. which shows tread throughout the entire piece. trail its which without its clasping of the mighty bole crumpled.

hi 2 O < W .X es C w 5 to a < > ir.


. and start to find out for himself the country of the Manhood of the Future. Yet this word was not that arbitrary and senseless cud which the modish singer chews from side to side. Thus did the master urge his course through unheard-of not by fleetly slipbut by speaking out their utmost syllable ping past them. all-powerful. From the shore of dance he cast himself once more upon that endless sea. he touches on the heightening crests of solid ground. and find must lie beyond the waste of waters. above the broadly stretched-forth shingles of the new continent. from nowhere came to him the Prometheus who could show to him these men! brotherly He needs must gird his loins about. nor tions tack back once more to for he desired to measure out the land which needs he knew the journey's goal. to whom to Those stretch out hands across the element of his music? men with hearts so broad that he could pour into them the mightv torrent of his harmonic tones? With frames so stoutly fair that his melodic rhythms should bear them and not crush them? Alas.THE AET OF TONE 185 But where could Beethoven find those men. Staunchly he threw his anchor out. as the gristle of his vocal tone. with might and main he willed to land on this new world. he grasped the mighty helm: and was determined to attain would he prepare himself. the ocean's bounds. from which he had erstwhile found a refuge on this shore the sea of unallayable heart-yearning. or cast his anchor possibilities of absolute tone-speech . from the deepest chambers of his heart forward to where the mariner begins to sound the sea-depth with his plumb where. and this anchor was the word. But 'twas in a stoutly-built and giant-bolted ship that he embarked upon the stormy voyage with firm-clenched fist . but the necessary. — — on the new-found shore. where he has now to decide him whether he shall face about toward the bottomless ocean. No imaginary triumphs after boldly overcome privathe lazy haven of his home. . for toward it alone had he set sail. But it was no madcap love of sea-adventure that had spurred the master to so far a journey. it.

we must first bear in mind that it was by no means a mutual cooperation between arthood and publicity. the light that lightens up the night of endless yearning: the word that the redeemed — from the fulness of the worldword which Beethoven set as crown heart. most loveworthy self-sacrifice of mastering. attained the force of the most heroic. and egoistic borrowing. eked out her own self-centred emptiness by taking. The last symphony of Beethoven is the redemption of music from out her own peculiar element into the realm of It is the human Evangel of the art of the universal Art. had the skill to be herself. and moved amid her own unsullied element. . nay. that it is precisely the art of tone which has gained so wide extension through all the branches of our modern public life. Thus has music of herself fulfilled what neither of the Each of these arts but other several arts had skill to do. who . therefore. to — nay of renouncing her own self. This was upon the forehead of his tone-creation and this word was " Freude! " With this word he cries to (" Rejoice! ") men: "Breast to -breast.186 THE GERMAN CLASSICS and all-uniting word into which the full torrent of the heart's emotions may pour its stream. To public get a clear insight into the contradictory spirit of this life. for upon it the perfect art-work of the future alone can follow. and of herself to weave the girdle wherewith to link the whole. : ! of the art-work of the future. But tone. She thus has kept herself as heart that binds both head and limbs in one and it is not without significance. the steadfast haven for the restless wanderer. Beyond it no forward step is possible. to reach out her sisters the hand of rescue. neither. however. that carried through the titanic process we have here reviewed: but simply a richly-gifted individual. not even a mutual cooperation of tone-artists themselves. ye mortal millions! This one kiss to all the world " And tins word will be the language world-man cries out aloud the . the universal drama to which Beethoven has forged for us the key. in that she was herself completely. future.

will undoubtedly have to take account of isolated phenomena which are of such a nature as to merit a particular and close attention. but nothing in respect of the living spirit. can only keep to its decisive moments. without a moment happen- ing on the thought that the last written. as music. " he must leave unconsidered whatever lies aside from these moments. . shamefully misunderstood by them." or But the more undeniably is great ability evinced is merely their derivative. In the great universal art-work of the future there will ever be fresh regions to discover. the rather. even within these forms. from so wide-reaching a point of view as here was necessary.* symphony had already been lived to see Beethoven's great that unique and thoroughly of discovery world-voyage feat whose consummation we have witnessed unrepeatable Thus have we — in his — symphony. and passed through mannerism across to mode. The forms in which the master brought to light his worldhistorical wrestling after Art. as the and boldest venture of his genius — once more superfluously attempted in " Freude " last foolishest simplicity. wonderful creative process. not only completed by the master in the most secluded loneliness. remained but forms in the eyes of contemporaneous and succeeding music-makers. now that that has once been spoken which Beethoven spoke through music. which breathes the fashioning breath of life through all the symphonies of Beethoven. yet none lost courage to write symphonies and suchlike pieces by the ream. — R. evolved within himself this spirit of community which his We see this artist soul has been the first to yearn for. from the fulness of his being. by the barrenness of all their art-endeavor. nay.THE ART OF TONE 187 took up into his solitary self the spirit of community that was absent from our public life. He who regards the history of Art. by such detached phenomena. that in their peculiar artprovince somewhat may have yet been left to discover in respect of technical treatment. Wagneb. divulge the smallest shred of original inventiveness. however. so much the more strikingly do they themselves prove. united with the fulness of musical resource. when once the latter has already been led to universalism but yet would linger in Beethoven — — her solitary round. and despite the fact that no other instrumental composer could. by but not in the separate branch of art. and happily got over without one * Whosoever may undertake to write the special history of instrumental music since Beethoven. but not so much as comprehended by his artistic fellows.

however. taken from its own peculiar nature. art of tone. set free from those of dance and poetry. of the outhowsoever capriward human life. he becomes a craftsman. By attained dexterity in its application. and bind fast — — — This system these laws into a compact scientific system. It has been forced to construct itself by laws which. or of Nature itself ciously it might disfigure this unconditional first principle. susceptible to Tone cheat and fancy. tower was heaped on tower. her outward. and the higher soared the edifice.188 THE GERMAN CLASSICS new genre. human measure every must frame herself more abstract laws. after three preceding instrumental sections had paved the way as featly as might be?* Thus has Columbus only discovered America for the sugary huckour times ! sters of The ground of this repugnant phenomenon. — Tkanslatob. their laws of Art explain the course of Nature without an inner understandTo the ing of Nature they can make no thing of beauty. the painter. has been the basis of all modern music: founded on this system. is an abstract. . of course. . lies The deep within the very nature of our modern music. find no affinity and no elucidation in any purely human manifestment. of counterpoint." tuuhdem delssohn's Jjobgesany. drei vorangehrndc Instrumcntalsatze so geschickt The reference is. Each of the other arts held by the measure of the outer human figure. to Menicir mdglich zu Statute zu brinain. a " symphony with choruses " hardship. musician are explained the laws of harmony. and the poet. without which he can build no musical structure. and from this craftsmanlike standpoint he looks out upon the * The original sentence is somewhat too forcible for Enplish notions: — " cr geholfcn hat. scientific system. perforce. tion — the sculptor. the more inalienable grew the fixed foundaTo this foundling which was nowise that of Nature. was all the dullards saw therein Why should not or Y be also able to write a symphony with choruses? Why A — ! X " be should not " God the Lord praised from swelling throat in the finale. which found alone in timid hearing. his learning. is no longer an art instinctively necessary to man.

or baffles him simple reason that he does not. — from the individuality of its specific nature. — product of art-music. Our modern concert-public. which feigns a warmth and this artificial . and will- . which must needs appear to him a different the thing from what it does to the unadmitted worldling The uninitiate layman thus stands abashed before layman. a — — audience beat high at once in unfeigned joy. with its disquiet. however. understand it. and very rightly can grasp no whit of it but what appeals directly to the heart from all the built-up prodigy. this only meets him All else but in the unconditioned ear-delight of melody. must be emphatically denied: where it would fain proclaim its existence. in its distinctive longing. or. and the proof of this hypocrisy is modern and melodious operatic " number " is performed as often happens even in our most renowned concert-instiwhen we may hear the genuine musical pulse of the tutes evident enough so soon as. can that art-creative impulse feed itself which nowhere finds its nourishment in outer Nature. after such a symphony. with a certain section of our folk which may from time to time be unaffectedly moved by the drastic power of a Beethoven- A unclear. and cannot. craving. individuality alone can find in its particularity. for the leaves him cold. in its personal intuition. it is affected and untrue. and the say the least impression produced by these tone-works is at bottom but But where this coherence is imperfect and fragmentary. can a natural formative and evolutionary impulse take operation by its own instinctive inner laws. it is — to — .THE ART OF TONE 189 outer world. the guild-like federation of our art-professors can only be an outward one while the growth and fashioning of art from within outward cannot depend upon a felbut only lowship which is nothing but an artificial system ian symphony. satisfaction in presence of the art-symphony. not to hand. merely lies and plays the hypocrite. vital coherence between our art-music and our public taste. for this in the separate unit. Only on the fulness of the special gifts of an individual artistnature.

a Beethoven not only shops. nay. that gathered in imitation. music and separate human being does become a purely human art she devours up this from the dissolution of its elements to gain individuality individuality of this one first — . So long as music had not fulfilled her world-historical task so long might the widely spreading branches of these schools grow up into fresh stems. could issue now from out their workAfter Haydn and Mozart. mannerisms and so-called " schools " from the indifor the most proceeding part These schools were the viduality of a particular artist. the In the stuff for which it looks in vain in outer Nature. But so soon as that task had been accomplished by the greatest of all musical individualities. Thus we see in music as in the other arts. in repetition guilds — — round some great master in whom the soul of music had individualized itself. so soon as tone had used the force of that : individuality to clothe her deepest secrets with the broadest form in which she still might stay an egoistic. fumble ! . and without a moment's lingering there. the stuff wherewith to give the art-mass form. by which ye make it possible not once to understand this work Do what ye will look right away from Beethoven. he was necessity. her own condensement. and even your obtuseness will not save you. robust son of Nature. when." ye fain would — deny the cataclysmic significance of Beethoven's last symphony. in one word. the genie of music claimed him of could. but must come. to bring an absolute music-man to market: only a patched and cobbled harlequin. in the realm of absolute music? The greatest genius would not here avail. . self-sufficient art — so last soon. Who now will be to Beethoven what he was to Mozart and Haydn. no sinewy. under this or that congenial fertilizer. her own individualization. Ye give yourselves a bootless labor. as an opiate for your egoistic tingling for " production. since the genie of music no longer needs him. though from totally different causes.190 THE GEBMAN CLASSICS ing. as Beethoven had written his symphony then all the musical guilds might patch — and cobble as they would.

yet I am well aware of the countless gaps in my recital. write masses. to lay bare the whole unseemliness. that a man may be not only base and bad. and operas without naught to light that has a breath of true — make songs withtexts — bring ye : still life in it. at last but dissolute Italian operaairs or wanton French cancan-tun.THE ART OF TONE after Mozart. whose lees are moldering pedantic shamelessness. in presence of this formless brew. for all its everlasting ogling. which makes her the object of the speculation of our educational " folk-improvers. gird 191 you round with Sebastian Bach.* However lengthily I have here expressed myself upon the nature of music. write with or without choruses. but to which both breath and breathing space are utterly forbidden on such a musical soil as ours. we look. — in short. the ! false belief in the possible necessity of your own selfish caprice In gazing across the busy wilderness of our musical artworld. sweat of ill-used factory-hands as the only possible alleviation of their sufferings (very much as our sages of the State and Bourse are all agog to stuff their pliant patches of religion between the gaping rents of the policeofficials' tender care of men) and finally to explain the mournful can rise as artificial distillate to the glare of modern public life. in comparison with what I have said upon the other branches of Art (my reasons lying in both the highly individual character of music and its special and eventful evolutionary course. the * modern and ignominy of the bonds uniting our modern music with our to penetrate the piteous. with all its solemn arrogance of musical " old-master "-hood. in which true music will truly have no minor role to play. — R. oratosymphonies rios — the sexless embryos of opera! look ye — ye of out words. and from which. — logical phenomenon. in pondering on this utter creative incapacity. over-sentimental idiosyncrasy of our art of tone. toward the great catastrophe which shall make an end of the whole unwieldy musical monstrosity. Wagneb. But it would need not one book but an entire library. . For what ye do ! lack belief! the great belief in the necessity Ye have but the belief of simpletons. but also dull without these qualities hindering him from being a quite respectable musician. proceeding from this individuality)." who would trickle drops of music's honey upon the acid flabbiness life. to clear free space for the art-work of the future. without an instant's blenching. in witnessing the hopeless sterility of this art-chaos.

and thus at the point where his love to woman was satisfied in accordance with nature. and man was man. while puling deformity was denied the right of life. unmediated aspect woman to him was woman. has developed the manly element of that womanhood and brought it to a thorough balance with the purely womanly. of the psychic process of the ennobling of — — [192] . We know that with the noblest of Hellenic stems.. London. Wagneb. The redemption of woman into participation in the nature of Christian-Germanic evolution. in its primitive purity. even of the natural state. This beauteous naked man is the kernel of all Spartanhood: from genuine delight in the beauty of the most perfect human body. Trench. Permission Kegan & Co. And exactly in degree as woman.THE ART OF SCULPTURE* [HE beauty of the (1849) TRANSLATED BY WILLIAM ASHTON ELLIS human body was the foun- dation of all Hellenic Art. f The higher element of that love of it man to man con- sisted even in this: that physicalism. that of the male.. Ltd. man is the outcome The Greek remained in ignorance woman to the rank of man. proclaims itself as the noblest and least selfish utterance of man's sense of beautv. and thus in measure as she is no longer merely man's can man find fullest satisfaction beloved but his friend — in the love of woman. This love of man to man. for it teaches man to sink and merge his entire self in the object of his affection. in perfected womanhood. R. through love to man and sinking of herself within his being. arose that spirit of comradewhich pervades and shapes the whole economy of the ship Spartan State. nay. the Doric Spartans. of Triibner t From The Art-Work of the Future. * excluded the motive of egoistic Nevertheless it not only included a purely Paul. the healthiness and unmarred beauty of the new- born child made out the terms on which alone it was allowed to live. arose the spiritual demand for man. To him everything appeared under its direct.

but this spiritual friendship was the blossom and the crown of the physical friendship. bodily beauty of the beloved comrade. aye. the ordainer of the common feasts and valiant nay.THE ART OF SCULPTURE 193 spiritual bond of friendship. basis in the noblest pleasures of both eye and soul not like our modern postal correspondence of sober friendship. in the material. the inspiring helpmeet on the battlefield. in rescue of the imperiled or vengeance for the slaughtered enterprises . by the infrangible laws of the soul's most natural necessity. half sentimental tutoress of youth. half — was the Spartan's only businesslike. yet this delight was no egoistic yearning. which had its glad beauty-prompted bearing. but a thorough stepping out of self into unreserved sympathy with the comrade's joy in himself. XV — 13 . — comrade. involuntarily betrayed by his lifeThis love. The latter sprang directly from delight in the beauty. the never-aging instructress alike of boy and man. For this it was that knit the fellowships of love into battalions of war and forewrote the tactics of death-daring. Vol.

Permission Kegan Paul. and for its understanding special study. Trench. a bridge between the tw o so inconceivable. self-concerning business. the study of art-learning. our modern Art is a The reason hereof is. that. therefore. Ltd. Art has become the private property of an it artist-caste. its taste it . w e shall public r FUTURE* [F (1849) TRANSLATED BY WILLIAM ASHTON ELLIS we consider far as it is — truly Art the relation of to — recognize at once its complete inability to affect this public life in the sense of its own noblest endeavor. T and bitterly deplored abyss between so-called culture and un-culture is so enormous. then must the artist of today grow conscious that his whole art-doings are. we were to ask the artist whether the great majority of Art's amateurs are able to understand him in his best endeavors. of the Future. being nothing but a hothouse plant. that his art. [194] . is nothing else than luxury and superfluity. each individual who has acquired the gold wherewith to pay the proffered delicacies of Art conceives today that he has made his own: if. had it •From The Art-Work Trubner &. The daily emphasized. he could only answer w'ith a deep-drawn sigh. it cannot strike root in the natural soil. at bottom. aloof from actual life. London. in the light of public life.OUTLINES OF THE ART WORK OF THE modern Art so life. a self-amusing pastime.. but an egoistic. or nourish in the natural climate of the present. a reconcilement so impossible. however. that mere product of culture and has not sprung from life itself. But if he ponder on the infinitely greater mass of those who are perforce shut out on every side by the evils of our present social system from both the understanding and the tasting of the sweets of modern Art. This study. Co. and the understandoffers to those alone it who understand demands a ing to be attained thereby..

and toward the widest understanding of general public Life. to its deepest shame. Let us first attempt to trace the theoretic path upon which modern Art must march forward to redemption from her present lonely. taken at its best.OUTLINES OF ART WORK OF THE FUTURE 195 any candor. that it owes its existence to a life-element which in turn can only base its own existence on the utter dearth of culture among the real masses of mankind. our modern Art. . for she can never hope to rain down culture from above. for endeavors — namely. The only thing which. not for the is The true endeavor of Art . will then appear self-evident. and not with men who purpose mere utility. have seen that Plastic Art can only attain creative strength by going to her work in unison with artistic man. abroad of culture. . and fully that which he has power to be. our " cultured " art resembles an orator who should seek to address himself Art in a foreign tongue to a people which does not understand it. would be forced to admit. — the spreading and simply for the reason to operate on Life. which grounds itself on this unnatural culture. e. such an one as has grown blossom of a up from below. she cannot do that. misprised station. i. his highest flights of rhetoric can only lead to the most absurd misunderstandings and confusion. our modern Art should be able to effect honest folk. Therefore.. not fully that which he has power to be whereas in the common artwork he is free. she must be herself the natural culture. indeed. Artistic man can only fully content himself by uniting every branch of Art into the common art-work. That this redemption can only become possible by the practical intermediation of public Life. We therefore all-embracing: each unit who is inspired with a true art-instinct develops to the highest his own particular faculties. in every segregation of his artistic faculties he is unfree. in the position thus assigned to and among her.

and unlovely. In a perfect to keep a single eye upon the art-work. The highest conjoint work of Art is the drama: it can only be at hand in all its possible fulness. in the construction of that edifice whose every part aim alone thus theatre. that edifice is built according to necessity. down even to the smallest detail. theatrical edifice. which reciprocally pervade and condition one another. a On the other hand. when in it each separate branch of art is at hand in its own utmost fulness. In this drama. each separate art can bare its utmost secret to their common public through only a mutual parleying with the other arts. but for the glory of general manhood in Art. Architecture can set before herself no higher task than to frame for a fellowship of artists. for the purpose of each separate branch of art can only be fully attained common by the reciprocal agreement and cooperation of all the branches in their common message.? imposed by . which answers most is befittingly an aim of man: the highest aim of man the drama. the artistic aim. the special surroundings Only necessary for the display of the human art-work.196 THE GERMAN CLASSICS glory of these special faculties. the highest artistic aim In buildings reared for daily use. Art's need alone gives law and measure. the building master-builder needs only to comfort himself as artist. he has to an unnecessary and unnatural need: his fashionsatisfy ing therefore is capricious. The true drama is only conceivable as proceeding from a common urgence of every art toward the most direct appeal to a public. who in their own persons portray the life of man. is therein In buildings reared for luxury. the builder has only — to answer to the lowest aim of men: beauty luxury. This need is twofold. unproductive. The scene has firstly to comply with all the conditions of " space . in — shall answer to a common and of artistic the the that of giving and that of receiving.

whereas artist only that the public. — R.OUTLINES OF ART the joint (" WORK OF THE FUTURE 197 gemeinsam ") dramatic action to be displayed but secondly. to be seen and heard within those walls which. by complete absorption into the public. forgets the confipes of the auditorium. which can only be observed by a union of beauty and fitness in the proportions. to whose comprehension it must be distinctly Thus the spectator led by everything that meets the eye. the need for optic and acoustic understanding of the art-work will give the necessaiy law. that an undreamt width of field lies therein able to raise our stratified — — open for invention. the sense of bringing this dramatic action to the eye and ear of the spectator in intelligible fashion. thus thing breathes and moves alone from eloquent desire to impart. Wagneb. it has to fulfil those conditions in thereon. a moment. on the one side. within the walls of the common theatre of the future. one will recognize with little trouble. when he * The problem of the theatrical edifice of the future can in no wise be con- sidered as solved by our modern stage buildings: for they are laid out in accord with traditional laws and canons which have nothing in common with the requirements of pure Art. In the arrangement of the space for the spectators. the absolute interest of Art must be cryingly affected. joins forces with luxurious ostentation on the other. and on the which seems the wide expanse of the whole world. stage Such marvels blossom from the fabric of the architect. for the demand of the collective (" gemeinsam ") audience is the demand for the art-work. and lives and breathes now only in the art-work which seems to it as life itself. for tion to conformity with any law of beauty. . that representative of daily life. to such enchantments can he give a solid base. Where speculation for gain. seem to the actor from his scenic standpoint to embrace the whole of humankind.* transplants himself upon the stage. by means of all his visual and aural faculties while the performer becomes an . Everybreathes and moves upon the stage. and thus no architect in the world will be and fenced-off auditoria dictated by the parceling of our public into the most diverse categories of class and civil staIf one imagine oneself. however circumscribed their space.

his glowing breadths of light. the richest masonry. tomorrow the honors of a modernized Jehovah! But not the fairest form. Plastic architecture here feels her bounds. athirst for love. he is forced to follow every speculative whim of his self -glorifying caprice. her own unfreedom. as his own abundant share. hand. who shall work out her redemption into fairest Nature. can alone suffice the dramatic art-work for the perfectly befitting The scene which is to spacial terms of its appearance. summoned by a common need which she alone can satisfy. to heap his masses and trick out his ornament. to invent and range each detail with the greatest sense of fitness. in which alone artistic man can render up a speaking likeness of himself. and casts herself. for a thorough understanding of this life. what he now. have power to also show the lively counterfeit of Nature. to be worthy to take their share in the human art-work. when he summons forth the terms of its enlivening from 'the individual resources of his art. compel Dame Nature to serve the highest claims : . What the painter's has seen in Nature. without a higher helpmeet than the aim of luxury. without the artistic necessity which leads him. The casings of this scene. Here landscape-painting enters. mount the picture of human life must. he dovetails into the united work of all the arts. which look down chill and vacantly upon the artist and the public. Through him the scene takes on complete artistic truth his drawing. must deck themselves with the fresh tints of Nature. as artist. his color. into the arms of painting. and dead does his handiwork appear when.198 THE GERMAN CLASSICS takes the purpose of the highest human art-work for his own. cold. would expert eye fain display for the artistic pleasure of the full community. in the theatre. On the other how rigid. in order to stereotype today the vanity of some boastful plutocrat. with the warm light of heaven's ether.

a greater and more universal understanding. had erstwhile what he forced into the narrow frames of panel-pictures had hung up on the egoist's secluded chamber-walls. with all his helping tools. He will not. accomplished with more delicate tools. at the very worst. immeasurably more content him than did his earlier work. the stage will. roughness of his tools. for sake of his earlier disposition of a flat-laid scrap of canvas For as. has been absorbed But the finished art-work that greets him from into it. e. illusion which his brush and finest blend of colors could — — only hint to its at. is its subject to intelligible looks. but to to impart to men this under- make it for the first time plain to them by . and he. until his art-work is completed and alive. in this framing. provided show: so will his man: the landscape-painter had not only standing. he will here bring ' ' ' ' consummation by artistic practice of every known The device of optics. when compared with the perfect art -work. than the whilom landscape picture. could only distantly approach. repent the right to use this scenic space to the benefit of such an art-work. forsooth. or had made away to the inconsequent. The organ for all understanding of Nature. to WORK OF THE FUTURE 199 That which the landscape-painter. calling the whole expanse The of scene as witness to his power of recreating Nature. the seeming grotesqueness apparent of the method of so-called " scene-painting. in his struggle impart what he had seen and fathomed. for he will reflect that even the finest camel 's-hair brush is but a humiliating instrument. and the artist has no right to pride until he is free.. his work remains the same ! no matter what the frame from which it it bring only art-work. distracting medley of a picture-barn therewith will he henceforth fill the ample framework of the tragic stage. at any rate effect a livelier impression. by use of all the art of lighting." will not offend him. i. set within this frame and held before the common gaze of full publicity.OUTLINES OF ART of Art.

for reason that its art is not complete until every helping artifice be cast behind it. to whom he would address himself. — R. past all mistaking. alone can animate and justify the artIn proportion as work is ripening toward the drama. the most directly understandable is the dramatic action (Handlung).* — — It can scarcely be indifferent to the modern landscape-painter to observe by how few his work is really understood today. and genuine life attain the faithfulest and most intelligible show. And thus each branch of Art can only address itself to the understanding whose relation to man. or derivain proportion as its core tion from him. Now by setting his art-work in the frame of the tragic stage. who lifts his warning finger on the threshold of their dreams. visual gluttony of those same need-less men whose 6ense of hearing is tickled by our modern. and reap the satisfaction of having spread his understanding out to that. how the so-called "charming prospect" is purchased to assuage idle. as it were. whose bond of union is certainly not the musing calm of Thought. while this aim itself will be disclosed to the common understanding. But he cannot fully bring about this public understanding until he allies his work to a joint and all-intelligible aim of loftiest Art. Between the " charming " " " of and the our modern times there subsists a prospect pretty tune doleful affinity. Hut this is the very mam. completely understood and justified. it passes over into drama. but that vulgar slip-shod sentimentality which draws back in selfish horror from the sight of human suffering in its surroundings. undistortrd man. whom ice must set up in the forefront of for the our show. to of full publicity. by the actual bodily man with all his it and made warmth of life. Of all artistic things. unintelligent. These sentimcntals are willing enough to see and hear everything: only not the actual.200 depicting THE GERMAN CLASSICS man in the midst of Nature. to hire for itself a private heavenlet in the blue mists of Nature's generality. and with what blear-eyed etupidity his nature-paintings are devoured by the Philistine world that pays * them. empty music-manufacture to that idiotic joy which is as repugnant a reward of his performance to the artist as it fully answers the intention of the artisan. will each domain of Art grow all-intelligible. the individual the associate manhood partner in his joy. he will expand man. Wacner. as it pulses with the drama's light. .

his feeling and his will-ing. Sculptor and painter once freed the Greek tragedian from his cothurnus and his mask. the graceful and the characteristic. they now shall let him pass into reality and bring his form. now leads the mime in the handling and demeanor of his actual body. their form. did this pair of plastic artists annihilate the last disfigurement of pure artistic man. and raise it to the consciousness of full artis- The same sense that led the sculptor in his grasp and rendering of the human figure. upon and under which the real man could only move according to a tic life. there will the word proclaim plain and conscious purpose: he becomes a poet . prepared by architect and painter. As they once described him in his undistorted truth. where the fulness of his will and feeling impels him to the uttering of the inner his man by means of speech. With justice. to the mime. in a measure sketched by them. as a single unit or in union with his fellows. to the eye. So far as lies within his power. endeavored to limn on stone or canvas. as natural man steps on the stage of What the statuary and the historical painter Nature. and thus prefigure in their stone and canvas the tragic actor of the future.OF ART On WORK OF THE FUTURE 201 to the stage. will lose himself in them. in drawing and in color. their body's limbs. now orders the whole breadth of actual human show.OUTLINES. now steps artistic man. The same eye which taught the historical painter. the features of their visage. in arrangement of his drapery and composition of his groups. certain religious convention. But where his power ends. to find the beautiful. The breadth and depth of scenic space belong to him for the plastic message of his stature and his motion. they now limn upon themselves. Thus the drama: the illusion of plastic art will turn to truth in plastic artist will reach out hands to the dancer. and thus become himself both mime and dancer. to bodily portrayal with all its wealth of movement. he will have to impart the inner man.

This organ is the orchestra. attains the By working to be — . she longs to do and be. so peculiar to our instrumental music. as well as through the poet's word. imparts himself to the one and the same highest expression of receptive power. each one of them and do the very thing which. in which the highest faculty of each comes to its highest in common. tone-artist. The mimetic dancer is stripped of his importance. can be absorbed within the other. so soon as he can sing and speak. new nay. artistic man. who. the creations of tone win all-explaining meaning through the mime. the immediate executant. her independence as that which she is. in it will each unfolding. dancer. unfold their utmost wealth within this art-work entirely . will the attain its first complete appraisement. where her own power ends. has fashioned for herself an organ which is capable of the highest reaches of expression. yet this purpose is first changed from " can " by the poet's will descending to the actor's can. of her power own inmost essence. It is in him. in her solitude. whose power commences where her's ends she maintains her own purity and freedom. especially manifold developments of tone. . tone will incite the mimetic art of dance to discoveries. in the fullest measure of Ms faculties. Not one rich faculty of the separate arts will remain unused in the united art-work of the future. to be poet. thing: nothing other than executant. Hereby: that each. that the three sister-arts unite their forces in one collective operation. and that exactly in degree as tone itself is able to transcend into the motion of the mime and the word of the poet while the poet first becomes a man through his translation to the flesh and blood of the performer: for though he meets to each artistic factor the guiding purpose which binds them all into a common " will " to whole. For music. and no less swell the breath of poetry to unimagined fill. a tone-artist (" Tonkiinstler"). he still is and.202 THE GERMAN CLASSICS But as and poet. Thus.

the personating individual man is given. whose unmeasured bottom is the great sea of feeling itself. appears and make it fruitful. introduced drama by the orchestra." and thus a substance which could break up the lower soil — . dissolves the hard immobile ground artistic. that of what agriculturists call " a top-dressing. in the first place as " quite unravel this part of the metaphor. scenic landscape-painting. so soon as ever his foot had grazed it. and to dower him from the exhaustless stores of natural phenomena with an ample and significant back- in the orchestra. more especially. drew new immortal life-force. a stanchless elemental spring. so to speak. While -architecture and. elastic. most rightly placed in the deepened foreground outside the scenic frame. The orchestra is. thus knit together. it at like time forms the perfect complement of these surroundings. By its essence diametrically opposed to the scenic landscape which surrounds the actor. marks an entirely fresh departure for the dramatic art-work. in a sense." and in the second as "ground. and therefore. impressionable ether. inasmuch it broadens out the exhaustless physical element of Nature to the equally exhaustless emotional element of artistic man. for the I have though it best to translate it " for loam. as though the idea were. as to locality. These elements. in the former case. have power to set the executant dramatic artist in the surroundings of physical nature. for his support. : of the actual scene into a fluent. The " it " which occurs after the colon may refer either to the " feeling " or to the " orchestra. at once ground — so and human. from which the individual feeling of the separate actor draws power to shoot aloft to fullest height of * growth it. Translator.OUTLINES OF ART WORK OF THE FUTURE into 203 The tone-speech of Beethoven. that pulsing body of manycolored harmony. inclose the performer as with an atmospheric ring of Art and as * It is a little difficult to same word it " Boden " is used twice over. natural. the loam of endless. Thus the orchestra is like the earth from which Antaeus." for both are neuter nouns. universal feeling.

and again in solitary splendor. now in pairs. withal. he is free to radiate on every side his feelings and his views of life — broadened to infinity.204 THE GERMAN CLASSICS Nature. the dramatic action. The nature of man. Thus supplementing one another in their changeful dance. all three will raise the will of drama to immediate and potent deed. each feeble wish. When this one thing is recognized by man as his fundamental essence. now tone must vent alone the stream of feeling. on distances as measureless as those on which the stars of heaven cast their rays of light. its most imperious bent (" Notwendigster Trieb "). in order to be free. like that of every branch of Art. Only the weak and impotent knows no imperi: . like to the heavenly bodies. whose satisfaction might stand between him and its attainment. subordinated appetite. do they put forth all their will to work out that alone : so will they also gain the power to lop off from their several stems the egoistic offshoots of their own peculiar being. according to the momentary need of the only rule and purpose-giver. is manifold and over-fruitful but one thing alone is the soul of every unit. into its lofty crown. and now. that therewith the tree may not spread out in formless mass to every wind of heaven. and showered. but proudly lift its wreath of branches. the united sister-arts will show themselves and make good their claim. For one thing there is that all the three united arts must will. as it were. he has power to ward off every weaker. boughs and leaves. and that one thing is the drama the reaching of the drama 's aim must be their common goal. Are they conscious of this : aim. now resolute thought will pour itself into the ex- pressive mold of gesture. then. he moves secure in fullest orbit. and whence. now all together. Now plastic mimicry will listen to the passionate plaint of thought . to reach this one and indispensable. in mutual embrace. its strongest need-urged impulse. in which. the shudder of alarm.



But should this need-reft one have strength to obstinately follow the appeasement of his accidental appetite. an impulse that forces back all other desires. But the individual man. despots. he never can attain a real enjoyment. no mightiest longing of the soul for him each instant is ruled by accidental. and all his special faculties. the parasites of headlong egoistic frenzy. of health of body. however. and this he only reaches with the necessary breadth In drama he of general understanding in the drama. to grasp the inner nature of an alien personality with that completeness which is needful before he can portray it. there then crop up in life and Art those hideous. externally incited appetites which. and if he put forth all his force to satisfy it: he thus will also lift aloft his own peculiar force. and forms the necessary inner urgence which constitutes his soul and being. heart. he never can allay. common to all his kind . hurled capriciously from one upon another. and mind. and fro. fledged artist-man. This he will only attain when he so exhaustively analyzes this individual in his contract with and penetration and and therefore also completion by other individualities — . to the fullest strength and height that ever can lie within his reach. to a universally human being. broadens out his own particular being. can experience no higher need than that which is for. in full possession. to be a true need. he can satisfy in community it can only be such an one as The most imperious and strongest need of fullalone. which fill us with such untold loathing in the murderous lust of modern operatic music. however. unnatural apparitions. by the portrayal of an individual personality not his own. is to impart himself in highest compass of his being to the fullest expression of community. or in the wantonness of to — If the individual. feel in himself a mighty longing. for reason that they are but appetites. and therefore. He must completely step outside himself.OUTLINES OF ART WORK OF THE FUTURE : 205 ous.

allow the play to be swallowed up by the opera. Perfectly correct! for the matter of that. above all will he not be able to constrain himself to share it with the tone-poet to wit. that in two several regards he has not as yet a clear idea of the character of the art-work of the future. obscure. unfree. arbitrary bent toward untimely bushing into outgrowths unfurthersome to the whole. which cannot indeed be realized without the unit. — so long as opera subsists.206 THE GERMAN CLASSICS the nature of these other individualities themselves — when he forms thereof so lively a conception. and consist in this. nor. the theatric stage the collective art-work which it brings But to force his own specific to light of day. she has to subordinate herself to that. like each several art. however. If. Firstly. therefore. the better then to put forth all his strength for reaching of the highest common purpose. — however. must quell each selfish. The perfectly artistic performer is. The place is by the utmost evolution of which . is the most necessary. the separate art-branch will never reach alone. the drama. his own par- in this wondrous process comes to pass. still. nature to the highest blossoming of its contents in this one and highest art-work. for instance that of dramatic speech. the play must also stand. the separate artist. on the contrary. wherever another power. the drama of the future must itself remain un-thinkable. and. must necessarily lose itself in the sea of things indefinite.* but only * The modern playwright will feel little tempted to concede that drama ought not to belong exclusively to his branch of art. the poet's doubt lie deeper. on the other hand. This purpose of the drama is withal the only true artistic purpose that ever can be fully realized. that he gains a sympathetic feeling of this complementary influence on his own interior being. has she to open out her full expanse. This purpose. while. so long as any dispute hereon is thinkable. as he understands us. that he cannot conceive how song should be entitled to usurp entirely the place of spoken dialogue: then he must take for rejoinder. without the unit's recurrent limitation. whatsoever lies aloof from that. the art of poesy. that music . the pantomime too. the unit man expanded to the essence of the human species ticular nature. he does not reflect that music has to occupy a very different position in this art-work to what she takes in modern opera: that only where her power is the fittest.

. the poet acknowledge this. then he has to recognize in the second place. which our modern poets His nature-bidden action in their plays. from beginning to end. the future. to imperceptibly linking herself to the thought-ful element of speech that she lets the Should latter seem to walk abroad alone. nay! — and all beyond is evil. modern and superfluous. WORK OF THE FUTURE is at like 207 together and therefore the most universal time the only real. free. The man who all has done for ever with and i. his speech are: Yea. which. that thoughts and situations to which the lightest and most restrained accom- paniment of music should seem importunate and burdensome. can only be such as are borrowed from the spirit of our modern play. . will find no inch of breathing-space within the art-work of will portray himself in the drama of the future the prosaic hurly-burly of fashionable manners or " " have to tangle and to disentagle polite intrigue. possesses the peculiar faculty of. and Nay. yea! e. the while she still supports it. with greatest circumstantiality. Wagnes. the only universally intelligible art- work.OUTLINES OF ART all . — R. without entirely keeping silence.

from yet it this inspiration must ever his own possessions. could only leap forth bright and radiant when kindled from without. London. duets. but beautiful music he could never write excepting when in- Though come from within. when to the spirit of divinest love within him was shown the object worthy love. Ltd... that reached him : — pieces to compose. and completest drama. But he never met that poet at times it was a pedantically wearisome. in far richer measure than Gluck and all his followers. the endless multiplicity of its motivation. Triibner & Co. method. fairest. Thus did Mozart only prove the exhaustless power of music to answer with undreamt fulness each demand of the poet upon her faculty of expression for all his un-reflective . that in every instance they received the most answering expression of which their last particle of sense was capable. Mozart himself. even in the truthfulness of dramatic expression. thus would it have been precisely the most absolute of musicians. But so little was a fundamental • From Opera and Drama. [208] . and ensembleopera-texts. always made. and these he took and so turned them into music. the glorious musician revealed this power. who would have helped to pen the truest. according to the warmth they each were able to awake in him. who would have long-since solved the operatic problem past all doubt. at times a frivolous sprightly maker of arias. the And all object that in ardent heedlessness of self it could embrace. Trench.OPERA AND THE NATURE OF MUSIC* TRANSLATED BY WILLIAM ASHTON ELLIS (1851) USIC Mozart spired. Permission Kegan Paul. if only he had met the poet whom he only would have had to help.

OPERA AND THE NATURE OF MUSIC 209 principle laid down in his creations. in his lordly palace he listened to the reapers passing by. for it they make as firmly knit a whole as man and wife. what staves stirged up into his sumptuous chambers were but the staves of tone. a consentaneous action of the arts of poetry as opposed to that almost only one and tone. Now. like burntout bricks and mortar. The man of luxury heard this folk-song merely from afar. a carcase waiting for the coming guest to of opera. in ever freer and less cramping channels. with all its tender ' ' ' ' . It never happens to the folk text without the words to sing its songs without a the folk would brook no tune (Tonweise). however. This art we can now conceive. if this tone-stave may be likened to the delicate fragrance of the flower. XV — 14 . they were too frail to hold stream within them. the root-character of that art-form will always betray itself as an absoluteThe folk-song issued from an immediate musical one. those operatic-forms. so vary too the words. and with the divers offshoots of the folk-stem. No severing of these twain can the folk imagine. that the pinions of his genius left the formal skeleton of opera quite unstirred: he had merely poured his music's lava-stream into the molds Themselves. this pitch his fleeting tent within. and the word-stave to its very chalice. the deliberate art of culture we ought perhaps to scarcely style as Art. whereas the staves of poetry died out before they reached him. but rather to call it an instinctive manifestment of the spirit of the folk — — through the organ of artistic faculty. Whereas in instrumental music. and forth it flowed to where. stayed chill and naked in their pristine shape. Here the word-poem and the tone-poem are one. it might spread itself according to its natural bent. the innate capabilities of music developed into boundless power. ########## So long as arias shall be composed. Vol. (Wortvers) If the tune varies in the course of time. until in the symphonies of Beethoven we find it swollen to a mighty sea. double-growth.

than he has bawled out the entire phrase. it stayed still ever-fruitless. Meyerbeer. Not one departure is his own. With this sweet-smelling residue he drenched the weary desert of his life. and not alike with those of sight. To gladden his eyes with the flower itself. the aching void of his emotions. have forced his way through branches. which he decanted into phials to bear about him at his lief. quite unconcerned as to whether he has caught the meaning of that word. through his indifference to the spirit of any tongue. and so swiftly that the . he must necessarily have sought it closer. trunks and bracken. Into whatsoever wayward intermarriages it might be forced.210 : THE GERMAN CLASSICS stamens the man of luxury. *#######** its footsteps. squeezed out this fragrance from the flower and distilled therefrom an extract. whereto the eminent and leisured sir had not one spark of longing. forever but itself. Moreover. to sprinkle on his splendid chattels and himself whene'er he listed. He was like the starling who follows the ploughshare down the field. was quite cut out for dealing with absolute music divorced from any lingual ties. but each he has eavesdropped from his forerunner. and never kept abreast of. to say nothing of outstripping it. whence it ha6 generally arisen. he thus was able to witness on the spot the salient features in the aforesaid march of opera-music's evolution: everywhere and everywhen he fol- lowed on Above all is it noteworthy that he merely followed on this march. and merrily picks up the earthworm just uncovered in the furrow. solely bent on tasting with his nerves of smell. exploiting it with monstrous osten- man in front has scarcely spoken a word. and the artificial growth that sprang from this unnatural fertilizing was nothing other than the operatic aria. that he has tation. but what it was and could not else be: a sheer musical substratum. and his hence-gained power to make with little pains its outer side his own (a faculty our modern education has brought within the reach of all the well-to-do). have T stepped down from his palace to the w oodland glades.



actually said something slightly different from what the in front intended. But the noise of the Meyerbeerian

phrase was so deafening, that the man in front could no longer arrive at bringing out his own real meaning willynilly, if only to get a word in edgeways, he was forced at last to chime into that phrase. In Germany alone was Meyerbeer unsuccessful, in his search for a new-fledged phrase to anyhow fit the word of

the fill of his melodic could not be echoed in the lessoned, arid formalism life, of Meyerbeer. At last, disgusted with the fruitless toil, he

Weber: what Weber uttered from

betrayed his friend by listening to Rossini's siren strains, and departed for the land where grew those raisins (" Rosinen "). Thus he became the weathercock of European opera-music, the vane that always veers at first uncertain with the shift of wind, and onlv comes to a standstill when the wind itself has settled on its quarter. Thus in Italy composed operas a la Rossini, precisely Meyerbeer till the larger wind of Paris commenced to chop, and Auber and Rossini with their " Stumme " and their " Tell " blew the new gale into a storm With one bound, was Meyerbeer in Paris! There he found, however, in the Frenchified

Weber (need I recall "Robin des bois? ") and the beBerliozed Beethoven, certain moments to which neither Auber nor Rossini had paid attention, as lying too far out
politan capacity
all his

of their way, but which Meyerbeer in virtue of his cosmoknew very well to valuate. He summed up

overhearings in one monstrous hybrid phrase, whose strident outcry put Rossini and Auber to sudden silence: " " Robert," the grim Devil," set his clutches on them all. In the survey of our operatic history, there is something most painful about being only able to speak good of the dead, and being forced to pursue the living with remorseless bitterness But if we want to be candid, since we must, we have to recognize that the departed masters of this art deserve alone the martyr's crown; if they were victims to


illusion, yet that illusion

showed in them so high and



and they themselves believed so earnestly its sacred truth, that they offered up their whole artistic lives in sorrowful, yet joyful sacrifice thereto.


have not taken upon myself to offer a criticism of Meyerbeer's operas, but merely to show by them the essence of our modernest opera, in its hang with the whole class in general. Though the nature of my subject has often


to give


exposition the character of a

historic survey, yet I have had to resist the being led aside into historic detail-writing. If I had to characterize in

particular the calling and talent of Meyerbeer for dramatic composition, I should have for very sake of truth, which I




laboring to bare completely, to lay the strongest upon one remarkable phenomenon in his works. In

Meyerbeer's music there is shown so appalling an emptishallowness, and artistic nothingness, that espewhen compared with by far the larger number of his cially musical contemporaries we are tempted to set down his specific musical capacity at zero. However, it is not that despite all this he has reaped such great successes with the European opera-public, which should fill us with wonderment for tins miracle is easily explained by a glance at that public itself: no, it is purely artistic observation, which


here should rivet and instruct us. We observe, namely, that for all the renowned composer's manifest inability to give by his unaided musical powers the slightest sign of artistic life, nevertheless in certain passages of his operatic music he lifts himself to the height of the most thoroughly indisputable, the very greatest artistic power. These passages are products of a genuine inspiration, and if we look a little closer we shall also see whence this inspiration derived its


— namely,

from the poetic




poel forgot his hampering regard for the musician, where amid his work of dramatic compilation he stumbled on a


which the

free, the freshening breath of

Life might

come and go

— there he suddenly transmits this




breath alike to the musician, as a grist of inspiration and now the composer, who had exhausted all the resources of his musical ancestry without being able to strike one solitary spark of real invention, is at a blow empowered to
find the richest, noblest, most heart-searching musical expression. I here would chiefly call to mind certain features in the well-known plaintive love-scene of the Fourth Act

of the Huguenots,

and above


the invention of that
side of

major, by — sprung moving melodyfragrant flower, from a as a
it is,


in G-flat






each fibre of the
little else,


heart to blissful pain


and certainly none but the most

perfect of music's works, that can be set. This I signalize with the sincerest joy and frank enthusiasm, because precisely in this phenomenon is the real essence of Art presented in so clear and irrefutable a fashion, that we can but

must come

how the faculty for genuine art-creation even the most corrupted music-maker, so soon as he treads the soil of a necessity stronger than his self-seeking caprice; of a necessity which suddenly guides
see with rapture

his erring footsteps, to his of sterling Art.


salvation, into the paths



motive for this detailed " Communication took rise in the necessity I felt of explaining the apparent, or real, contradiction offered llljijfe ky the character and form of my hitherto ttSStcirfy published opera-poems, and of the musical compositions which had sprung therefrom, to the views and principles which I have recently set down at considerable length and laid before the public under the title Opera and


' '

This explanation I propose to address to my Friends, because I can only hope to be understood! by those who feel a need and inclination to understand me; and these, again, can only be my friends.
Kegan Paul, Trench, Triibner & Co., Ltd., London. must explain, once and for all, that whenever in the course of this Communication I speak of " understanding me " or " not understanding me,"
1 1
it is

* Permission

not as though


fancied myself a shade too lofty, too deep-meaning, or

too high-soaring; but I simply demand of whosoever may desire to understand me, that he will look upon me no otherwise than as I am, and in

communications upon Art will only regard as essential precisely what, my general aim and as far as lay within my powers of R. Wagner. The latter exposition, has been put forth in them by myself. portion of this sentence is somewhat ambiguous in the German, running thus: " und in meiner kiinstlerischen Mittheilungcn genau eben nur Das als wesentlich erkenne, was meiner Absicht und meinem Darstellungsvermogen gemass


in accordance with

in ihnen von

It will be seen that the expression tn/vr lundgcgeben icnirde." "kiinstlerischen Mittcilungen" admits of two interpretations, viz., either "artistic communications'' or "communicain other words, his operas tions upon the subject of Art." After some hesitation, I have chosen the

latter, as








his views promulgated by hostile critics

Professor Bischoff and his perversion of the title: "Artwork df the Future" into "Music of the Future," together with the consequences he deduced from this wilful misunderstanding of the author's Tbanslatob. aim.

crafty and


referring — and nearly



to the distortions of

all his critics

were both






such, however, I cannot consider those who pretend to love me as artist, yet deem themselves bound to deny


their sympathy as man.* If the severance of the artist from the man is as brainless an attempt as the divorce of soul from body, and if it be a stable truth that never was an artist loved nor his art comprehended, unless he was also at least unwittingly loved as Man, and with his art his life was also understood: then at the present moment less than ever, and amid the hopeless desolation of our public art-affairs, can an artist of my endeavor be loved, and thus his art be understood, if this understanding and that love which makes it possible be not above all grounded upon sympathy, i. e., upon a fellow-pain and fellow-feeling with

the veriest


aspect of his


all, however, can I deem those to be my friends led by impressions gathered from an incomplete who, acquaintance with my artistic doings, transfer the nebulous

Least of

uncertainty of this their understanding to the artistic object itself, and ascribe to a peculiarity of the latter that which
finds its only origin in their

own confusion

of mind.


position which these gentry take up against the artist, and seek to fortify by all the aids of toilsome cunning, they dub " impartial criticism," seizing on every opportunity of

" true friends " of the artist whose posing as the only beside actual foes are therefore those who take their stand


in full


Our language


so rich in


understand by the expression Man," and perhaps (" Untertan ") strictly speaking, nothing but a "Subject" also, in my particular case, one who has his own opinions and follows them R. Wagner. Considerable light is thrown without regard of consequences.

For the matter

upon both these notes, when we reflect that Wagner, at the period of writing, was in exile for attempting to introduce ethical considerations into politics,
a court-salaried think on it! actually regards the present note, its second half (i. e., the tan") does not appear in the original edition, of with a Preface; " and it should be added that essay referred, in that edition, to the necessity of
the opera poems themselves




words following "Unterthe "Three Opera- Poems
the opening



publishing in self-defense not merely, as now, the Communication."



we fancy we may use them


having lost our intuitive understanding of their meanat our pleasure and draw ing, Thus do we lines of demarcation between them. private " love " and " For and
part, with the attainment of years of discretion I have lost the power of imagining a friendship without love, to



say nothing of experiencing such a feeling and still harder should I find it, to conceive how modern art-criticism and friendship for the artist criticised could possibly be terms

of like significance.
artist addresses himself to the feeling, and not to the understanding. If he be answered in terms of the underit is as good as said that he has not been and our criticism is nothing else than the understood; avowal of the misunderstanding (" Gestandnis des Unv erst (indnis ") of the art-work, which can only be really understood by the feeling admitted, by the formed, and withal not mis-fonned feeling. Whosoever feels impelled, then, to bear witness to his lack of understanding of an art-work,


standing, then

should take the precaution to ask himself one simple quesTrue, tion, namely: what were the reasons for this lack? that he would come back at last to the qualities of the art-work itself; but only after he had cleared up the

immediate problem of the physical garb in which it had addressed itself to his feelings. Was this outward garb unable to arouse or pacify his feelings, then he would have, before all else, to endeavor to procure himself an insight
into a manifest imperfection of the art- work; namely, into the grounds of a failure of harmony between the purpose of

the artist and the nature of those
to impart

means by which he sought


it to the hearer's feeling. Only two issues could open for his inquiry, namely, whether the means of presentation to the senses were in keeping with the artistic aim, or whether this aim itself was indeed an artistic one?



absolute, i. e., the unconditioned art-work, existing but in thought, in naturally bound to neither time nor place,




nor yet to definite circumstance. It can, for instance, be indited two thousand years ago for the democracy of Athens, and performed today before the Prussian Court at Potsdam. In the conception of our esthetists it must bear
exactly the


value, possess exactly the



features, no matter whether here or there, today or in the days of old; nay, they go farther, and imagine that, like certain sorts of wine, it gains by being cellared, and can today and here be first entirely understood aright, because they now forsooth can think into it the democratic public of Athens, and gain an endlessly augmented store of knowledge from the criticism of both this phantom public and

the to-be-assumed impression once exercised the art-work.*




Now, however elevating

all this


be to the modern

yet for one thing it forms a sorry outlook, namely the factor of artistic enjoyment; that factor naturally not


into play, since such an

through the feeling,

enjoyment can only be won and not through antiquarian research.



in contradistinction to



enjoyment of the ghost of Art, we are ever to come to a genuine enjoyment; and if the latter, in keeping with the
nature of Art, can only be approached through feeling: then nothing remains for us but to turn to that art-work whose attributes present as great a contrast to the fancied monumental art-work as the living man to the marble

But these attributes consist herein, that it proclaims itself in sharpest definition by time, by place, by circumstance; therefore that it can never come to living
Thus, even now, our literary dilettantists know no more refreshing entertainment for themselves and their estheto-politieal public of idling readers, than for ever and a day to jog round Shakespeare with their writings. It never occurs to them for a moment, that that Shakespeare whom they suck dry with their critical sponges is not worth a rushlight, and serves at

utmost as the sheet of foolscap for the exhibition of those proofs of their intellectual poverty which they take such desperate pains to air. The Shakespeare, who alone can be worth somewhat to us, is the ever new-creating poet who, now and in all ages, is that which Shakespeare once was to his

— R. Wagneb.


effective show, if


in a given place, that it strips off every vestige of the monumental. shall never gain a clear perception of the necessity of these attributes, nor shall we ever advance that claim

come not to show at a given time, and amid given circumstances in a word,


genuine art-work which such perception must engender, if we do not first arrive at a proper understand" universaling of what we are to connote by the term human." Until we come to recognize, and on every hand to demonstrate in practice, that the very essence of the
for the
species consists in the diversity of human indiinstead of placing the essence of the individuviduality


ality in its

conformity to the general characteristics of the

and consequently sacrificing it to the latter, as neither shall we religion and State have hitherto done that the fully and wholly present must once comprehend the monuand for all supplant the half or wholly absent mental. In truth, our entire ideas on Art are now so bound up in the monumental that we fancy we may only assign a value to works of art in measure as we are justified in imputing to them a monumental character. Though this view may be right as applied to the offspring of frivolous mode, which never can content a human need, still we cannot but see that it is at bottom but a mere reaction of man's

nobler feeling of natural shame against the motley utterances of mode, and with the ceasing of the reign of mode

must stand confessed of no more right, because of no more reason. An- absolute respect for the monumental

is entirely



at best, it can only bolster itself

an uncontending present. upon But this feeling of revulsion has not the needful strength to take victorious arms against such a present, so long as it merely shows itself as a passion for the monumental. The utmost which that passion can eventually effect, is the perversion of the monumental itself into another mode
esthetic revulsion against

such as, to tell the truth, is the case today. And thus we never leave the vicious circle from which the noblest



impulse of the monumental craze itself is striving to withdraw, regardless that no rational exit is so much as thinkable except by violent withdrawal of their life-conditions both from mode and monument for even the mode has its

the monumental, to wit, as the reaction of the immediate vital impulse of the present from
full justification in face of

the coldness of that unf elt sense of beauty which proclaims itself in the passion for the monumental. But the annihilation of the monumental together with the mode is, in other terms, the entry upon life of the ever freshly present, ever new-related and warm-appealing art-work; which,

again, is as much as to say: the winning of the conditions for this art-work from life itself.



a. sorrowful


— the mood


which I then was


turned; it bore me the long-since brooding Flying DutchAll the irony, all the bitter or humoristic sarcasm

which, in a kindred plight, is all that remains to our literary poets to spur them on to work, I first unburdened in the above-named, and in certain directly subsequent literary effusions and thus put it so far behind me, for a while, that


was again

in a position to follow


inner bent toward

real artistic fashioning (" Gestalten "). Seemingly after what I had gone through, and from the standpoint on which


I should not have been experiences of life had set me able to do this, if I had devoted myself from youth up to the acquirement of a knack for literary poetry; mayhap I

should have trodden in the footsteps of our modern scribes and playwrights, who, under the petty influences of our stereotyped social system, take the field, with every stroke of their prose or rhyme-trimmed quills, against the mere formal surface of that system, and thus conduct a war like that which General Willisen and his volunteers have lately

waged against

the Danes;* to express myself in the ver-

In the revolt of Schleswig-Holstein against Denmark, General Willisen who had been unsuccessful in his dealings with Poland) was appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Schleswig-Holstein army of volun(a Prussian officer



nacular, I should probably have followed the example of the donkey-driver who beats the bundle in place of the beast: had I not been blessed with something higher.

my preoccupation with music. have recently said quite enough about the nature of music; I will here refer to it simply as the good angel which preserved me as an artist, nay, which really first made me an artist when my inner feeling commenced to revolt, with ever greater resolution, against the whole condition of our modern Art. That this revolt did not find its sphere of action outside the realm of Art, did not take the coign of

This something was

vantage either of the criticising


of letters or the art-

denying, socialistically calculating, political mathematician of our day; but that my revolutionary ardor itself awoke in me the stress and power for artistic deeds this, as I

I have just called it my said, I owe to music alone. good angel: this angel was not sent down to me from Heaven; it came to me from out the sweat of centuries of human "genius." It did not, forsooth, lay the featherlight touch of a sun-steeped hand upon my brow; in the blood-warm night of my stifling heart, it girth itself for action in the world outside. I cannot conceive the spirit of music as aught but love. Filled with its hallowed might, and with waxing power of insight into human life, I saw set before me no mere formalism to criticise; but, clean through the formal sem-


blance, the force of sympathy displayed to me its background, the need-of-love downtrodden by that loveless


Only he who

feels the

need of love, can recogto recognize this

nize that need in others:


art-receptive faculty, pos-

sessed with music, gave

need on every hand, even in that art-world from the shock of



teers, in April, 1850.

astrous that he was removed from the

General Willisen's tactics were so ill-conceived and discommand in December of that year.

at all events, its first portion only two Wagner, writing the Mitteilung months after these events, has fixed upon this particular commander as a current representative of red-tape incapacity. Translator. or three



contact with whose outer formalism my own capacity for love drew smarting back, and in which I felt my love-need

roused to action by that very smart. Thus I revolted out of sheer love, not out of spite or envy; and thus did I become an artist, and not a carping man of letters. The influence which my sense of music {" musikalisches Empfindungswesen ") exerted on the trend of my artistic
labors, especially upon the choice and molding of the poetic material, I will specify after I have first cleared the way

for its understanding by an account of the origin and character of those works to which I gave birth under that influence. I shall therefore pass at once to the said account.
the path which I struck with the conception of the Flying Dutchman belong the two succeeding dramatic


poems, Tannhauser and Lohengrin. I have been reproached as falling back, in all three works, upon a path already trodden bald as the opinion goesby Meyerbeer in his Robert the Devil, and already forsaken by myself in my Rienzi: the path, to wit, of " romantic opera." Those who level this charge against me are naturally more concerned with the classification, Romantic Opera, than with the


romantic. conventionally classified as Whether I set about my task with the formal intention of " romantic " constructing operas, or did nothing of the
kind, will become apparent if I relate in detail the history of the origin of these three works.


* '

' '

The mood in which I adopted the legend of the Flying Dutchman, I have already stated in general terms: the adoption (" Empfangnis ") was exactly as old as the mood itself, which, at first merely brooding within me and battling against more seductive impressions, at last attained the power of outwardly expressing itself in a cognate work of art. The figure of the Flying Dutchman is a

mythical creation of the folk: a primal trait of human nature speaks out from it with heart-enthralling force. This trait, in its most universal meaning, is the longing after rest from amid the storms of life. In the blithe world

of Greece

we meet with

wanderings of Ulysses and wife: the his longing after home, house, hearth, and and at last attained reward of the city-loving attainable, son of ancient Hellas. The Christian, without a home on earth, embodied this trait in the figure of the "Wandering Jew: for that wanderer, forever doomed to a long-since outlived life, without an aim, without a joy, there bloomed no earthly ransom; death was the sole remaining goal of
in the



his strivings his only hope, the laying-down of being. the close of the Middle Ages a new, more active impulse

led the nations to fresh life: in the world-historical direc-

most important result was the bent to voyages of discovery. The sea, in its turn, became the soil of Life; yet no longer the narrow land-locked sea of the Grecian world, but the great ocean that engirdles all the earth. The fetters of the older world were broken; the longing of Ulysses, back to home and hearth and wedded wife, after " Jew " until of the on the
tion its




became a yearning for death, had mounted to the craving for a new, an unknown home, invisible as yet, but dimly boded. This vast-spread feature fronts us in the mythos of the Flying Dutchman; that seaman's poem from the Here we world-historical age of journeys of discovery.

upon a remarkable mixture,

a blend, effected

by the

spirit of the folk, of the character of Ulysses

with that of

The Hollandic mariner, in punishment for his temerity, is condemned by the Devil (here, obviously, the element of Flood and Storm*) to do battle

Wandering Jew.

with the unresting waves, to all eternity. Like Ahasuerus, he yearns for his sufferings to be ended by death; the Dutchman, however, may gain this redemption, denied to
the undying Jew, at the hands of a woman who, of very The yearning for love, shall sacrifice herself for him.

death thus spurs him on to seek this
to tin



but she





— "A


recently considered this Devil



as an orthodox


dogmatischer") Devil and an

orthodox ghoet."



longer the home-tending Penelope of Ulysses, as courted
in the days of old, but the quintessence of womankind and yet the still unmanifest, the longed-for, the dreamt-of, the


womanly woman


me out with it in one word:
who arose
so often


Woman of the Future. This was that Flying Dutchman
swamps and billows of




and drew me

from him

with such resistless might; this was the first folk poem that forced its way into my heart, and called on me as man and
artist to point its

meaning, and mold


in a


of art.

here begins my career as poet, and my farewell to the mere concoctor of opera-texts. And yet I took no sudden leap. In no wise was I influenced by reflection; for reflection comes only from the mental combination of
existing models: whereas I nowhere found the specimens which might have served as beacons on my road. My course was new; it was bidden me by my inner mood (" Stumming "), and forced upon me by the pressing need


impart this mood to others. In order to enfranchise myself from within outward, i. e., to address myself to the understanding of like-feeling men, I was driven to strike out for myself, as artist, a path as yet not pointed me by any outward experience; and that which drives a man hereto is necessity deeply felt, incognizable by the practical reason, but overmastering necessity.


I have here described the influence that my possession with the spirit of music exerted on the choice of my poetic I have stuffs, and therewith on their poetic fashioning. next to show the reaction that my poetic procedure, thus influenced, exercised in turn upon my musical expression This reaction manifested itself chiefly in and its form. two departments in the dramatic-musical form in general,


melody in particular. Seeing that, onward from the said turning-point of my artistic course, I was once for all determined by the stuff, and by that stuff as seen with the eye of music: so in its

in the



fashioning, I must necessarily pass forward to a gradual but complete upheaval of the traditional operatic form. This opera-form was never, of its very nature, a form

embracing the whole drama, but the rather an arbitrary conglomerate of separate smaller forms of song, whose
fortuitous concatenation of arias, duos, trios, etc., with choruses and so-called ensemble-pieces, made out the actual edifice of opera. In the poetic fashioning of my stuffs, it was henceforth impossible for me to contemplate a filling of these ready-molded forms, but solely a bringing of the

drama's broader object to the cognizance of the Feeling. In the whole course of the drama I saw no possibility of division or demarcation, other than the acts in which the place or time, or the scenes in which the dramatis personae
Moreover, the plastic unity of the mythic stuff with it this advantage, that, in the arrangement of brought my scenes, all those minor details, which the modern playwright finds so indispensable for the elucidation of involved
occurrences, were quite unnecessary, and the whole strength of the portrayal could be concentrated upon

a few weighty and decisive moments of development.


the working-out of these fewer scenes, in each of which a decisive stimmung was to be given its full play, I might
linger with an exhaustiveness already reckoned for in the original draft I was not compelled to make shift with mere

to for sake of the outward economy suggestions, and hasten on from one suggestion to another but with needful

repose, I could display the simple object in the very last connections required to bring it clearly home to the dramatic understanding. Through this natural attribute of

the stuff, I was not in the least coerced to strain the planning of my scenes into any preconceived conformity with given musical forms, since they dictated of themselves their


In the ever surer feeling of musical completion. it thus could no more occur to me to rack with hereof, wilful outward canons the musical fonn that sprang self-

bidden from the very nature of these scenes, to break








by tfo>ts



A COMMUNICATION TO MY FRIENDS 225 natural mold by violent grafting-in of conventional slips Thus I by no means set out with the of operatic song. are deluging the So foolish maketh fear! " German Vol. In their agony lest I should upset the forms that keep our musical hotch-potch steady. fixed purpose of a deliberate iconoclast (" Formuman" derer " lit. the musician in view. they go at last so far. with a more and more practised of the nature of my stuff and the means necesknowledge did I extricate myself from that sary for its presentment form-al influence. and yet more decisively in Lohengrin accordingly. exercised a quite specific influence on the tissue of my music.' they lay on me.. changer of forms ")* to destroy. and confound me with certain actual brain-grubbers of Absolute Music. through traditional ical reflex (" unwillkurliches Wissen ") of those the stuff.. . Just as the joinery of my scenes excluded every alien and unnecessary individual " *Note to the original edition. operas. duet. for stepping before them with a compelled to * reflected music. and more and more definitely rule the — — form of portrayal by the requirements and the stuff and situation. as regards the characteristic combination and ramification of the thematic motivs. keeping only a whole. whenever they pay me the honor of their notice. in Tannhauser. is the role they think necessary to ascribe to me. with A forms still influenced me so much in my Flying Dutchman. that can become the object and the blame. etc. it is of their reflection ' . the prevailing operatic forms. forsooth. that any attentive investigator will recognize how often there it governed even the arrangement of my scenes and only gradually. the question of form. of aria. albeit entirely unknown to the directors. and fan themselves into such a fury. of 1852 This bugbear of the generality of musical critics. peculiarities of This procedure. As they never concern themselves about : — only the part. but the — omission of these forms followed from the very nature of whose intelligible presentment to the feeling mechanan adequate vehicle. I had alone to do. XV — 15 . as to see in every new work projected by me an imminent disaster. that they end by fancying my stage. who as such can only exercise their inventive ingenuity — — on a wilful variation and twisting-about of forms. But herein they make a changeling of me. that in matters of music they should be ' reflect. dictated by the nature of the poetic subject.

whose easily-surveyed members were made-out by those fewer scenes and situations which set the passing mood: no mood (" Stimmung ") could be permitted to be struck in any one of these scenes. to have drafted . I was not prompted by reflection. so that the development of the moods from out each other. I have minutely described and vindicated. Opera and Drama. that spread itself not over one scene only (as heretofore in separate operatic " numbers "). must also gain a definite musical expression. in the third part of my book. from the theoretic standpoint. and this was brought about. which should dis- of the drama play itself to the sense of hearing as a definite musical theme. in keeping with the object of the present communication. and that in intimate connection with the poetic aim. so did the whole build(" ing of my drama join itself into one organic unity. in keeping with the nature of the stuff. to underline the fact that in this procedure also. THE GERMAN CLASSICS and led all interest to the dominant chief-mood vorwaltende Hauptsiimmung "). that did not stand in a weighty relation to the moods of all the other scenes. actual working-out of the Flying Dutchman. necessarily take a decisive share in this development to a : climax. should establish the unity in its very mode of expression. but over the whole drama. and the constant obviousness of this development. I have only. but solely by practical experience and the nature I remember. the intended climax of a decisory chief-mood was only to be reached through a development. continuously present to the feeling. and its weighty consequences for the emotional understand- ing of a poetic aim. of the individual moods already roused so must the musical expression.226 detail. quite of itself. in the progress of the drama. The characteristic peculiarity of this thematic method. before I set about the of my artistic aim. Just as. While referring my readers to that work. which had never before been systematically extended over the whole drama. which directly influences the physical feeling. Each of these chief moods. in the shape of a characteristic tissue of principal themes.

employed. spread itself quite instinctively over the whole drama. Tannhauser I treated in a similar fashion. for instance. had I chosen to invent a fresh motiv for each recurrence of one and the a course whereto I naturally did not feel the smallest inclination. and not a mere conglomerate of operatic numbers. I had only. only that I here had not a finished musical piece before me in advance. the thematic picture. and finally Lohengrin. and thus the music won a greater variety of appearance than was the the case. such as that ballad. where reappearance of a theme had often the mere character of a device that had already been an absolute reminiscence before myself. and I had all the chief moods of this poem. I felt strongly germ of the whole music of the opera: it was the picture in petto of the whole drama. by other composers. I unconsciously " tempted to call it a dramatic ballad. thus evoked. In this piece. to take the various finished work. such as it stood before my soul and when I was about to betitle the laid the thematic . since I had only in my mind the most intelligible portrayal of the subjectmatter. in the Flying Dutchman. thematic germs included in the ballad and develop them to their legitimate conclusions. I should have had stubbornly to follow the example of the self-willed opera-composer. quite of themselves. its and completed both verse and melody. through a continual re-modeling of the thematic material to fit the character of the passing situation." In the eventual composition of the music. especially in Lohengrin.A COMMUNICATION TO MY FRIENDS first 227 the Ballad of Senta in the second act. and then let them fall in changeful play wherever necessary for the understanding of the main situations. as one continuous tissue. — . without further initiative. in definite thematic shapes before me. Moreover my treatment gained in different scenes . but from the aspect of the scenes and their organic growth out of one another I first created the picture itself on which the thematic rays should all converge. same mood a more definite artistic form.

in a certain sense. indeed. equally so was the manner of our interview. I had longed to tread with lustre. Liszt had unconsciously grown up from tenderest youth. — been unfortunate enough to earn the reputation of being not only on many sides forbidding (" abstossend"). an Artist. and was involved in that inward rebellion against this art-world which I have characterized above.228 THE GERMAN CLASSICS rose Then one Friend. — — petty things to grand. could recognize its void and Thus nullity with all the bitterness of a disillusioned man. nay. already so far repulsed by the lovelessness and coldness of its contact. and at a time when humiliated and disI had given up every hope. and while this was quite explicable on his part to wit. I met Liszt. friendly and . did he make me anew. when I yearned from . I here must touch a little closer on the character of this I have friendship. nay. therefore. but right-down malignant (" feindselig ") so that the account of an affectionate relationship becomes. as was the only knowledge he could gain of me. on the other hand. for the first time in my life. and now entirely. all mind for a gusted Paris success. I had no opportunity to make him know me in myself and doings: superficial. Liszt came before me as the completest In that world which antithesis of my nature and my lot. Liszt was more to me than a mere object of my jealousy. from a man who was daily thronged by the most I. not until the second period of that stay. was just kaleidoscopic of affairs then not in the mood to seek quietly and fairly for the — — simplest explanation of a behavior which. since to many it may seem a paradox. a pressing need to me. and lifted me from out my deepest discontent. In this encounter. that I was profoundly understood even by those who else had — almost stood the farthest from me — . during my earliest stay in Paris. to be its wonder and its charm at a time when I. This wondrous friend of mine is Franz Liszt. Through the most searching and overpowering proof that I did not stand alone.

A COMMUNICATION TO MY FRIENDS 229 obliging in itself. me by that extraordinary in a position to feel as yet the uncomfascination of these tokens of Liszt's preeminently lovable and loving nature I at first regarded his overtures with a lingering tinge of wonder. nay. . doubter I But was not then mon charm and : that I was. Liszt. knows the appalling self-seeking and the loveless disregard of others' feelings. and whom to know seemed now not quite unworth the while. and especially in the bearing of modern artists to one another. with an utter disinclination on mained for me foreign and hostile even the attempt he reone of those phenomena that one considers my side. with an infinitely tender misgiving that he might. to — to one's nature. have really wounded me. and — like manner without my knowing him. was of all others the kind to ruffle me. No. as he clearly saw from those expressions. I repeatedly expressed to others. What mood. When I now think back to it. and indeed at the time wdien I had so suddenly attracted notice by the Dresden production of my Rienzi. with the highest admiration. with which Liszt troubled himself in order to bring me to another opinion of him. in his endeavor to come into closer contact with me. when he hears of personal advances such as those thrust on man. there is to me something exceedingly touching in the strenuous attempts. renewed with a positive patience. in this continued came later to the ears of Liszt. I visited Liszt no more. He was concerned at having been so hastily misunderstood. to which. Whoso in all our social relations. in Beyond that first time. As yet he had not heard a note of my wT orks. as manifested in such intercourse. coupled. and therefore there could be no question of any artistic sympathy. it was simply the purely human wish to put an end to any chancearisen discord in his relations with another man. must be filled with more than astonishment. perhaps. after all. by a man whose acquaintance he had scarcely made. I felt often inclined to give an almost trivial food. had attended a performance of Rienzi. however.

he felt when he performed it what I had wished to say when I wrote down the notes. ing over me stateliest cities. Caring for me everywhere and everywhon. Whilst I was banned to wandering afar. whithersoever his virtuosotour had borne him. I halted for a few days on Thuringian soil. with heart wide opened to my every wish. I was astounded to recognize in him my second self: what I had felt when I conceived this music. it waxed more and more undoubtable to me. direct proportion as this utter failure grew more certain. now from this person. I received witnesis. and at the last quite obvious. when ductor's baton. settling down in modest little Weimar. on the crusade for me. which he well-nigh had to extort and from all the ends of the earth. still. helping ever swiftly and decisively where help was needed. I heard Liszt conduct a rehearsal of my Tannhduser. to turn it into home for me. long yearned for. that I and my dramatic works would remain without a ghost — — of external success. that my person was exposed to the most serious peril. Miraculous! Through the love of this rarest of all friends. and at the moment when I became a homeless man. took up the musical conuncerThere did I last meet him. he said when he made them sound. the great worldwanderer had cast his anchor on a little spot of earth. ne'er happed-on habitation for my art. of Liszt's restless ardor to impart to others the delight as I almost he had experienced in my music. On the very day on which I received information that made it more and more indubitable. with did Liszt love the most devoted for my whole being become what T had never found before. and in a measure — . and thus to set on foot a to believe quite unintentionally prefer This happened at a time when. . as to the actual nature of the prosecution hangtain. and. and at last quite positive. He. ever sought amiss. I won the true. other side.230 THE GEKMAN CLASSICS . did Liszt succeed in his personal efforts to found a foster- But in ing refuge for my art. the favored guest of Europe's gave up his royal progresses. — — in my at last necessitated flight from Germany. and now from that.

His answer was none other than an for announcement of preparations the most sumptuous for Lohengrin's producthe modest means of Weimar tion. to be promptly set on foot. I have quite recently been concept forced to change this resolution.A COMMUNICATION TO MY FRIENDS whose fulness we can only then conceive. The only thing that — given the unavoidably halting nature of our present stage representations — can bring about a needful understand- ing. Do thou create for us anew a work. the active. distracted by our modern wont. to help on every side to comprehension. then. so that in truth it can no longer be carried out in the form in which it had already been publicly announced : . What men and means could do. he ran to meet me with the cry See! Thus far have we brought it. to Two should never ring from off the death-wan paper. after my late experiences. to make hardly-strived success. I had only Liszt in view. and finished it in flying hand was already laid to its musical composition. it was this summons and this challenge. and therewith to success ? Liszt swiftly saw and did it: he laid before the public his personal views and feeling of the work. . that woke in me the liveliest resolve to set myself to fresh 1 : I sketched a poem. gazing. Success rewarded him. was done. At the end of my latest stay in Paris. If. as I lay ill and wretched. my eye fell on the It score of my already almost quite forgotten Lohengrin. in some very essential artistic labor. think that these notes filled me with a sudden grief. together with those of my friends whom. that we may bring it farther yet! In effect. in a. crowned with this success. good the lack. brooding into space. my For the production. and. words I wrote to Liszt. fashion unapproached before for convincing eloquence and potent charm. I have learnt to group under the local Weimar. assert itself at once in helpful strength: mistake and misconception blocked the path of What was there to do. when it 231 actually surrounds us with its own full compass. to bring — — the work to understanding there. willing fancy of the public. haste — points. could not.

I was forced to look upon the composition of my Siegfried's Death as aimless and impossible. the appeal. or of any public whatsoever. misgiving as to the efficacy of my drama. had. Tortured by this feeling. either in the case of our modern. involuntarily. as I now recognize. But these could only be inlaid in epic form suggestions. When. in order to present a notion of the given feature in its strongest meaning. I think it not unweighty to give my friends. the feeling's understanding. a communication of my views hereon. it was the stuff itself that so urged me to its dramatic molding. namely. as to whose only fitting mode of exposition I have but now at last become thoroughly settled in my mind. into the drama and here was the point that filled me with . with the swiftness of a lightning" Young Siegfried . to call into b<*ing. I fell the plan of carrying out as an independent drama a upon most attractive portion of the mythos. that it only further needed Liszt's flash. to tax myself to suggest a host of huge connections (" Beziehimgen "). only the attempt to bring a most important feature of this myth to dramatic portrayal in that drama I should have . in its proper sense of a scenic exposition." the winner of the hoard and waker of Briinnhilde. in brief and in conclusion. naturally. such as it had become my own poetic prop- — — erty. Yet here again. but in par: ticular by the fear that my poetic purpose (" dichterische as such could not be conveyed in all its Absicht ") bearings to the only organ at which I aimed. . I had set forth this wide-ranging purpose in a sketch of the Nibelungen-mythos. provided I held to my definite intention of immediately producing it upon the stage I was weighted not only by my general knowledge of our present opera-singers' inability to fulfil a task such as I was setting before them in this drama. To begin with. which in Siegfried's Death could only have been given in narrative fashion. first Siegfried's Death was.232 THE GERMAN CLASSICS the ground hereof lies chiefly in the character of the poetic stuff itself. at every attempt to take it up in earnest.

The object of this production I shall consider thoroughly attained. even with these two dramas. accepted. Wagneb.A COMMUNICATION TO MY FRIENDS 233 Again. I had to go through the same experience with this Junge Siegfried that had earlier been brought me in the train of Siegfried's Tod. however. but that connections of had been left unrealized. in keeping with the unique character of genuine mythos. all the more forcibly must I feel that. but. I propose to produce my myth in three complete dramas. That these connections. and and coordinating powers of the Hcmdlungsmomenten "). that it offered me. With the framework of this form I now may make my to friends acquainted. With these preceded by dramas. since hereby will at least be clearest indicated the standpoint whence the thing I offer should be R. so soon as ever I made ' ' — its glad discovery. in the course of three days and a fore-evening. if and my artistic comrades. some future time. The richer and com- pleter the means of imparting my purpose. * — . and thus in moments which can only be intelligibly displayed in drama this quality it was. that. although each is to constitute a selfincluded whole. to produce those three dramas with their prelude. as being the substance of the project which alone I shall adress myself henceforward.* a lengthy Prelude (" V or spiel "). I will call them Dramas. I propose. led me to find at last the final fitting form for the conveyance of my comprehensive purpose. however. for their performance. the actual performers. shall within these four evenings succeed in artistically conveying my purpose to the true emotional (not the critical) I I shall never write an Opera more. were of such a nature that they could proclaim themselves alone in actual physical situations (" ' ' drama. my myth had not as yet entirely passed over into the sensible reality of the most vital importance relegated to the reflective beholder. however. I have in mind no " repertory-piece. As I have no wish to invent an arbitrary title for my works. by the following plan : At a specially-appointed festival." in the modern I shall abide theatrical sense.

they surely end by taking also thought with me: How and under what circumstances a plan. will there also arise that help of theirs which alone can bring this thing to pass. will. From this plan for the representation. perhaps. while every one who approves thereof. and thus.234 THE GERMAN CLASSICS understanding of spectators who shall have gathered tofurther issue is as indiffergether expressly to learn it. for the nonce. such as that just named. can finally be carried out. So now I give you time and ease with to think it out — for only my work will ye see me again! . every one of my friends may now also deduce the nature of my plan for the poetic and musical working-out. Then if my friends take firmly up this certainty into themselves. ent to me. namely. as it cannot but seem superfluous. be equally uncon- A of the public realization of this that with this undertaking I have nothing cerned with myself as to the how and when more will to do with our theatre of . since he will at least conceive one item.

If the tongue in which he writes has a prominent share in determining the thoughts the poet utters. be it of German or Italian origin.. Triibner [235] & Co. but a musician. In judging the poet and plastic artist it certainly has ever been kept in eye that their mode of grasping the world's occurrences or forms is governed in the first place by the particularity of the nation to which they belong. to be sure. that melody is an absolute tongue. we recognize that it is very possible to talk of a German. Singers. in power whereof the musician speaks to every heart. does not touch the essence of tone-speech at all. is equally intel* From Actors and London. Permission Kegan Paul. and for this difference one may even assign a national physiologic ground. no less strikingly does the nature of his folk and country betray itself in the But neither through plastic artist's forms and colors. Ltd. does the musician reveal his It therefore has been generally assumed that toneorigin. Upon closer examination. the Italian's great advantage in point of voice. to wit.. that difficulty is enormously increased when the subject is neither a poet nor a modeler (" Bildner "). speech belongs to the whole human race alike. giving just as definite a direction to the development of his music as the German's lack in this regard has driven him to his Yet as this difference special province of the art of tone. nor through any form wherein his country or language.BEETHOVEN* IFFICULT (1870) TRANSLATED BY WILLIAM ASHTON ELLIS o&grman I as it must always appear to the thinker to satisfactorily define the true relation of a great artist to his nation. Trench. his people greets the eye. . but every melody. as distinguished from an Italian music.

at bottom. with the German nation which has lately undergone such earnest trials of its worth. if we set ourselves the more definite task of inquiring into the connection of the great musician. for they have left us certain definite data in their conscious communications. from the selfsame cause. Schiller's evolution it has been granted us to look with greater sureness. it might be none too easy to avoid deception by appearances. we need not be surprised to find still greater aberrations when a musician like Beethoven Into Goethe's and is taken for subject in a similar strain. but even these reveal the course of nothing but their esthetic culture.236 ligible. The idiosyncrasy that marks the musician as belonging must in any case be seated deeper than that we recognize Goethe and Schiller as Germans. which more accompanied than * led their artistic work. or the physiognomic aspect of his country in that of the plastic artist for even in the latter cases we may regard those outward differences as favors granted or withheld by Nature. On the other hand it may prove easier to obtain a glimpse of what has hitherto eluded the grasp of dialectics. and cannot be conceived as exerting an influence to be compared with that of his native tongue in the case : of the poet. that THE GERMAN CLASSICS " moment " may surely be neglected as a mere external. — Translator. whereby Rubens and Rembrandt as Netherlanders. whose hundredth anniversary we are now about to celebrate. . without our allowing them any bearing upon the artist's spiritual organism. even though we must take it that both have sprung. Were we first to examine this connection from the outer side. as to the GervinuB. To follow up that cause might be every to his nation whit as attractive as to explore the depths of music's nature. If it proves so difficult to account for a poet that we have been treated by a famous German literary-historian* to the most idiotic statements as to the evolution of Shakespeare's genius.

but there. for certain from our researches in this quarter. we merely learn in fact that accident surprisingly preponderated over purpose. that an evolution observable in this wise could pertain to none but German poets. to the great poets of that noble period ing is know of German rebirth. Never has any of our poets defined the tendence of one of his most important works with such precision: and what do we gain for our judgment of one of the most wondrous Can we of all tone-works from this distinct enunciation? make it explain a single bar of that score? Must it not appear sheer madness. Even so indirectly that its operation on their true poetic fashion- One only thing we quite beyond all positive proof. But what conclusion is there to draw from the surviving letters of Beethoven and our uncommonly scanty store of information anent the outer. even to seriously engage in the attempt ? I believe that the most positive fact we shall ever ascertain about Beethoven the man. lest it escape us that any such influence never showed itself directly. as to their relation with his tonecreations and the evolutionary course displayed therein? If we possessed the most microscopic data of all conscious incidents in this connection. to say nothing of the inner life of our great musician. and in particular the choice of their poetic stuffs. in the very best event. they could yield us nothing more definite than is contained in the story of the master " in hom" Sinfonia eroica having originally sketched the age to young General Bonaparte and written his name on the title-page. an actual tendence in step with the march of outer world or national history is the very last thing we discover as to the part played by purely personal lifeimpressions in the choice and molding of these poets' stuffs we can only argue with the greatest caution. but afterward crossed out that name when he heard of Bonaparte's having made himself emperor.BEETHOVEN latter 's 237 material basis (" realen Unterlagen "). will stand in the same relation to Beethoven the musician as General .

i. With Goethe the conscious leaning toward plastic art was so strong that at a momentous epoch of his life he actually deemed himself intended for its practice. we undoubtedly must strike an altogether different path from that on which it is possible. and that point itself becomes a vanishing one exactly at the spot where creation passes from a conscious to an unconscious act. alights on his self-consciousness.. his whole life through he preferred to regard his poetic labors as a kind of effort to make up for a missed career as painter: on the side of consciousness he was a Schiller. approaching the musician on the mystic ground of his unconsciousness. however.* was far more strongly attracted to an exploracontrary. The point of lasting contact of these two great minds lay precisely where the poet. resides the fundamental difference between poet and musician. on the thorough student of the visual world. * " They met. whose study so engrossed him in the main period of his higher evolution. journeying from either extreme. in a certain sense. betwixt them stands the poet.238 THE GERMAN CLASSICS to the Bonaparte side " Sinfonia eYo'ica. beholding of the idea." . in their Er %rar tnit seinem Reintsstscin ein durchaus der anschaulichen Welt zugcucndcttr schonr deist. inclining toward the plastic artist in his conscious fashioning (" Gestalten"). where the poet no longer chooses the esthetic form. enigma. and. the great musician must always At all to solve this remain a complete enigma to us. e. to that thing in itself" of the Kantian philosophy. and to arrive at a little clearness on this point we first must proceed to a deeper examination of the problem touched on. too." Viewed from this of consciousness. but it is imposed upon him by his inner vision ("Anschauung ") of the idea itself Precisely in this . The said diversity comes out quite plainly in the plastic artist. when compared with the musician. tion of the subsoil of inner consciousness that lies entirely " aloof from vision (" Anschauung "). to follow the creative work of Goethe and Schiller. up to a certain point at least.

a simple outward operation of the senses. whilst Goethe showed an unmis- — — takable preference for the epic style of treatment. regarded more the pleasing. only. of concepts. is suggested in the words of the most esoteric " of the Evangelists." his greatest difficulties. " anschauend " and the adjective " anschaulich " may be rendered. eye of hearing." As Wagner it is in Opera and Drama has used the expression " the easy to understand the difference between what he here " calls art-music. in ordinary parlance. on the contrary.. as " visual. and that veritable music which passes through " the ear of hearing " to the seat of the emotions. employed * " by it to visualize the idea. a totally different nature from that of either He starts from wonder at music's a language immediately intelligible by every one. whose sole material consists plastic or poetic art. ." — Translator. expresses the very reverse of a physical inspection. plastic symmetry of art-music. the drama. however. that by which we take cognizance of the inner world. Schiller was actually the happier in drama proper. in this essay. e. in the first place. Wagner adopts the Schopenhauerian meaning of the term. who. that element which gives the art of tone an analogy with architecture. i. Schiller took a deeper grasp of the problem. giving it as his opinion that the to which he obtained the assent of Goethe epos leans toward plastic art.BEETHOVEN 239 presage of the essence of music." " " — presents Idee. But it was Schopenhauer who first defined the position of music among it ascribing to the fine arts with philosophic clearness. with Schiller it was accompanied by a deeper insight than with Goethe. "the act of looking at." since vision is the principal sense by which we take cognizance of the outer world: an old proverb tells us that "seeing is believing. from its original meaning." — derived while the opposite mode of knowledge. and without The present participle any disturbance of the emotions on the other. And quite in harmony with our foregoing judgment of both these poets. toward music. for lack of a better term. blessed are they that have not seen.* The word "Anschauung " For Zur Y eromschaulichung der " from to look the English translator with one of Schauen." the music of mere sound-patterns. . without any analysis or synthesis by the reasoning faculty on the one hand." which latter word. and yet have believed." " it has passed to the metaphorical view " and even to " intuition. in keeping with his whole tendency. speaking since it needs no whit of intermediation through abstract concepts (" Begriffe ") which completely distinguishes it from poetry.

of Sleepless one night in Venice. and moreover was unable to base his knowledge thereof sufficiently definitely on an understanding of the very musician whose works have first laid open to the world justice of his is that deepest mystery of music. of all others. perhaps for simple reason that as layman he was not conversant enough with music. but which in itself is certainly as old as Venice's canals and people. After many a solemn the ringing dialogue took quicker life. Schopenhauer believes he must recognize in music itself an idea of the world. however.240 THE GERMAN CLASSICS it is according to this philosopher's so luminous definition the ideas of the world phenomena. since he who could entirely translate it into abstract this concepts would have found withal a philosophy to explain the world itself. in " of the fine " the sense of Plato. he also furnishes us with the only serviceable material for a further demonstration of the profound hypothesis. the poet interprets these ideas to the visual consciousness (" dem anschauenden Bewusst- sein ") through an employment of strictly rationalistic concepts in a manner quite peculiar to his art. whereas. From out the breathless silence rose the strident cry of a gondolier just woken on his barque. since it cannot strictly be set forth in logical terms. that constitute the object its and of essential arts. for Beethoven. and seemed pause . again and again his voice went forth into the night. I recognized the drear melodic phrase to which the well-known lines of Tasso were also wedded in his day. I stepped upon the balcony my window overlooking the Grand Canal: like a deep dream the fairy city of lagoons lay stretched in shade before me. a demonstration which he himself did not pursue more closely. not to be judged exhaustively until that pregnant para- dox of Schopenhauer's has been solved and made right clear to philosophic apprehension. till from remotest distance its fellow-cry came answering down the midnight length of the Canal. Though Schopenhauer propounds theory of music as a paradox.

BEETHOVEN at last to melt in unison. athwart the monstrous silence. the howling hurricane. color-swarming Venice of the daylight tell me of itself. till over him there comes that dreamlike state in which the ear reveals him the inmost essence of all his eye had held suspended in the cheat of scattered show. that with eyes wide open we no longer intensively see. So wakes the child from the night of the mother-womb. so speaks to the musing man the moan of beasts. till 241 finally the sounds from far and near died softly back to new-won slumber. pasture-land came shouting the lists of sound. and tells him that his inmost to being is one therewith. Whatever could sun-steeped. that that sounding dream of night had not brought infinitely deeper. that world from whence the musician speaks to us we recognize at once from an experience at the door of every man namely. if we actively saw them. We experience this in every concert-room while listening — — : any tone-piece that really touches us. the brooding valley leapt into the upland vale in Uri. closer. XV — 16 . from the other side anon there answered it. so understands the yearning youth the woodbird's merry mate-call. things that assuredly would quite divert us from the music. I to mean. sent forth across the broadening valley. besides the highly the mechanical trivial aspect of the audience itself. and answer it the mother's crooning kisses. where the most hideous and distracting things are passing before our eye. the whistling wind. that only in this wise can the essence of things without be learnt in truth. movements of the band. The dreamlike nature of the state into which we thus aie and wherein there plunged through sympathetic hearing dawns on us that other world. that our eyesight is paralyzed to such a degree by the effect of music upon us. a like exultant herd-call: the echo of the towering mountain walls here mingled in. to my consciousness? Another time I wandered through the lofty solitude of an In broad daylight from a hanging shrill jodel of a cowherd. and even move us to laughter. That this Vol. the whole peculiar working apparatus of an orchestral production.

########## Music. for all our open eyes. for. have fallen into a state And in essentially akin to that of hypnotic clairvoyance. and robs of the power of seeing aught save our own inner world. whether in Nature or Art. namely the (temporary) liberation of the intellect from sendee to the speechless feeling. who speaks to us solely through quickening into articulate life the most universal concept of the inherently all imaginable gradations. however. our author's argument as to the nature of music is really far more strongly supported by his present paragraph. dass sie den allerallgemt insten Hcgriff des an sich dunklen Oefiihles in den erdenklichsten Abstufungen mit best imm tester Deutlivhkcit uns belebt. with his wonderto the musician's world. as soon as she engrosses us. but. From it drops of sound he dews our brain as if by magic." which latter. V. sobald sie uns erfiillt. to the ordinary mind. plainly shows us that we no longer are really conscious — — of it. the musician casts the meshwork of his tones to net us. we are brought into direct contact with the universal Will. though it has given nfT. without appealing to Schopenhauer's convincing theory of the sublime (Welt als W. in and for all be judged Die Musik. which nothing else can picture. whereas each several reference to "dreams" mijrht be omitted without in the slightest degree affecting the philosophic basis of Richard Warner's remarkable contribution to a muchneeded science of music. she transports us to the highest ecstasy of consciousness of our infinitude." * " — paraphrase. As an element of that theory is formed by the recognition that in the sublime. — — . so to speak. truth it is in this state alone that we immediately belong out that world. I. welche einzig dadurch zu uns sprieht. § 39). even in a partial crregt. die hiichste Extase des Beicwsstseins der Schrankenlosigkeit A very difficult sentence to render justice to. Translator. kann an und filr sich einzig nach der Kategorie des Erhabenen beurtheilt werden.nse to those who have been misled by the oft-reported illustration into considering it a main factor in the exposition. than by Schopenhauer's assumption of a "dream-organ. Wagner explicitly has adopted by mere way of "analogy" a purpose it admirably serves. u. can once by nothing but the category of the sublime. or.242 THE GERMAN CLASSICS which preoccupies the man untouched by the spectacle music at last ceases to disturb the spellbound listener. da sie.* On the other hand what enters only as a sequel to our plunging into contemplation of a work of plastic art.

Consequently our verdict on any piece of music should be based upon a knowledge of those laws whereby the effect of beauty. the making known. on the other has made her so much a matter of superficies (" ihr eine Ueberschaulickkeit gegeben hat ") as to expose her to the said false judgment by analogy with plastic art. g. and show us these forms themselves again in nothing but their inner meaning . to Goethe. should be avoided like a deluge. to Let us gaze into the inmost essence of ourselves and all things. as it were. indeed. by music's outermost side to the world of Upon this side alone. and that by a systematizing of her rhythmic structure ('' Period enbau") which on the one hand has brought her into comparison with architecture. for long "was deemed by esthetes the true and only acceptable is"sue of maturing the art of tone. and shuts us off from the as pure form set free from matter first — — outer world. in her outermost restriction to banal forms and conventions. advances the most directly to a revelation of her truest character through the would be the stamp of an absolutely empty piece of music. the very first effect of music's mere appearance. inasmuch as she withdraws us at once from any concern with the relation of things outside us. so admirably suited for a standard of poetical proportion (" zur Normierung dichterischer Konzeptionen"). that it never got beyond a mere prismatic toying with the effect of its first entry. To be able in these con- ventional forms so to toy with music's stupendous powers that her own peculiar function.BEETHOVEN 243 individual will through our discarding all relations of the the required effect of object contemplated to that will is brought about by music at her very on the mind beauty — — entry. It tions presented vision. and consequently kept us bound to the relaagency of the sublime. e.. But to have pierced through these forms to the innermost essence of music in such a way that from that inner side he could cast the light of the clairvoyant on the outer world. she seemed. Here. on the contrary. has music been given any lasting development.the inner essence of all things.

unrestrainable by those outward forms themselves.ilter an existing form of instrumental music. who spoke spirit. as everywhere else. For it to have been a logical procedure. the German spirit redeemed the spirit of mankind from deep disgrace. whom we therefore have to regard as the time archetype of the musician. Assuredly there never was an artist who pondered less upon his art. to heal this artfully induced corruption of the European race. the ban imposed upon his genius by those forms." so terribly the purest speech of every nation. The aforesaid brusque impetuosity of his nature shows us how he felt as an actual personal injury. We know that it was the " German dreaded and hated " across the mountains. Never did he radically . or even overthrown the outward forms of music. Schiller. For inasmuch as music had been degraded to a merely pleasing art. and the rest. almost as direct as every other shackle of convention. and by dint of her ownest essence he raised her to the height of her sublime vocation. And herein lies the unique relation of great Beethoven to the German people. so far as known to us." that stepped into the field of Art. he has*set open for us the understanding of that art which explains the world to every one as surely as the profoundest philosophy could ever explain it to the abstract thinker. which we now will try to follow through the special features of his life and work. but we never light upon a trace of that. he must consciously have changed. Nothing can yield us a more instructive answer as to the relation borne by the artist's modus operandi to the synthetic operations of the reason. As in other realms we have hailed our Lessing.244 THE GERMAN CLASSICS — this was the work of our great Beethoven. Goethe. Yet his rebellion consisted in nothing but the exuberant unfolding of his inner genius. than a correct apprehension of the course pursued by Beethoven in the unfolding of his musical genius. in his last . as our rescuers from that corruption. today we have to show that in this musician Beethoven.

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followed their mode of speech. quartets. their metres. compare the Eighth Symphony in F with the Second wholly new world that fronts us form! in D. {" Anschauung ") own inmost spirit. but always giving voice therein to our Thus we took over music. we may demonstrate beyond dispute a structure such as of the first. — Trans- latob. we have before us in the unfathomable works of Beethoven. knew to make our own the antique view of things .* So. strange as it may sound. did we adopt the classic form of Greek and drew its Roman and culture. when troubled by the outer form of matters in his State or art. internal spring seems silted up wherefore. As we follow their order of succession. from the Italians. that profoundly inward gift which stamps its mark on every form by molding it afresh from within. symphonies. with * Chretien de Troyes' twelfth-century poem. the pleasanter form would thereafter leap into existence . but a reformer. Perceval le Galois. nurture from the adaptation of French chivalric poems: the inner depth of a Wolfram von Eschenbach shaped eternal types of poesy from that self-same stuff whose primal form is stored for us as nothing but a curiosity.BEETHOVEN 245 sonatas. and what we poured into them. that our poetic literature of the Middle Ages of itself. and marvel at the in wellnigh the identical shown once more the idiosyncrasy of German nature. his mutiny is directed against his own nature. he fancies he must dash it into atoms. To attempt to explain those works themselves. . is the German no revolutionary. were an act of folly. and so forth. and thus Thus is saved from the necessity of outward overthrow. as never another nation. which never displays really an inch more depth than already in that troubling form. as though the new. too. with all its forms. In the Frenchman Here is this deep. Thus. and thus he wins at last a wealth of forms for the manifesting of his inner nature. But compare these works with one another. On the contrary it has not harmed the German spirit's evolution.

a quite inferior type of art. the virtuoso placed the candle of his art-dexterity in front of it. and ecstasy. whilst it all appears to take its motion from the depths of our own inner being. a second world now Here the might of the musician is conceivable as nothing but magic. a throb of joy. and sets this painting in the hush of night. of yearning. an agency now soothing now appalling. 'Tis as though the works of his forerunners were a painted transparency seen by daylight. each convention employed by the artist for sake of making himself intelligible to the world outside him. but the whole is melody. and therefore looked down upon by all true connoisseurs as a pseuclo art-work erected for the embellishment of feasts. each rhythmic note. For in Beethoven's music the factor of so great moment for the hi story of Art is this each technical accidentia of art. we here have no subsidi- no more foiling to the melody. instead entertain luxurious of at its back. a thrill. aries. between the world of semblance and the deep interior world of all things' essence. at princely banquets. every voice in the accompaniment. obviously beneath comparison in drawing or color with the works of the painter proper. to : company and so forth. even the pauses. a pulse. itself is raised to fearing. . : ! stands before us. from whence he brings behind the picture the light of the clairvoyant and lo it shimmers into wondrous life. ay. But Beethoven comes. It certainly is an enchanted state into which we fall while listening to a true Beethovenian masterwork. grief : — the supreme importance of a direct outpouring of his spirit. when in every particle tell senses would of the piece which our sober us was merely the technical means of — we discern a supernatural life exhibiting a given form (" geisterhafte Lebendigkeit "). a world whereof the grandest masterpiece of Raphael himself could give us no foreboding. As I have remarked elsewhere. to light it up.246 THE GERMAN CLASSICS ever growing distinctness must we perceive in them the permeation of the musical form by the genius of music.

had gone to ground. And so it happened. actually requesting his patrons no longer to pay him for his works. the focus of all the rays of light that issue from his wonder-world. for the first time in the life of any musician. had to earn his living by his musical labors. superficial work. he had the less need either to engage in rapid. But never and in nothing had he pleasure. it must take him as it found him. and since we have already sought by the philosopher's aid to gain some clearer knowledge of the true essence of music in general (and consequently of Beethovenian music in particular). The more he thus lost touch with the outer world. and knew that he belonged to the world but as a freeman. But. Mozart. to be sure. save in what henceforth engrossed him: the play of the magician with does . This great boon conferred on Beethoven albeit not continued without break and undiminished. too soon worn out. independence. as smiling comfort had no charms for him. or to make concessions to a taste that naught but sweets could capture. As for it. without one thought for all the world. To his high-born patrons he behaved as a despot. and nothing could be got from him save what and when he pleased. the more con- he propound his outward requirements. if we are to abstain from the impossible we still must rivet our attention to the personal Beethoven. He felt himself victor. yet formed the base of that peculiar harmony which showed itself henceforward in the master's still so strangely-fashioned life.BEETHOVEN 247 Since it is quite impossible to discuss the essential substance of Beethoven's music without promptly falling into the tone of rhapsody. too. And the more familiar he becomes with the administration of his inner riches. but to insure his being able to work entirely for himself. that a few benevolent persons of high station pledged themselves to maintain Beethoven in the desired state of Arrived at a similar crisis in his life. ********** sciously Beethoven. the clearer-sighted did he turn his gaze upon his world within.

and animated solely by the his inner tone-world? The advent and exacer- bation of his aural malady distressed him terribly. it cast a wondrous reflex back upon his inner soul. and. the loving pair. moving man! — — And now the musician's eye grew bright within. the song of birds. the happiness of rhythmic rest. the flocking clouds. The ear bad been the only organ through which the outer world could still disturb him: to his eye it was long since dead. and shows in the tranquil light of beauty. but listens to his inner harmonies. A musician sans ears! — Can one conceive an eyeless Tiresias to painter? But the blinded Seer we know. and moved him to deep melancholy: about his total deafness. the merry throng. we hear no serious complaint from him. Now did he gaze upon appearance. And all his seeing and his fashioning is . and especially the loss of all ability to listen to perform- ances of music. For the outer now had faded out completely. an intercourse that in itself had never any charm for him. the brook. untroubled by fife 's uproar. now from his depths but for it has nothing more to tell him.248 THE GERMAN CLASSICS the figures of his inner world. whom the world of appearance has closed itself. Whoso could then have been Beethoven with the vision of Tiresias. what a wonder must have opened to the in-itself of the him: a world walking among men world as a living. not because its sight was reft from him by blindness. the raging of the storm. at home forever with and in itself. speaks to that world So is genius freed from all outside it. Now them speaks but the essence of things to him. the clear blue sky. but since deafness held it finally far off his ear. and which he now avoided more and more emphatically. and whose inner eye beholds instead the ground of all appearances: his fellow is the deaf musician who now. the fields. What saw the spellbound dreamer when he wandered through Vienna's bustling streets. illumined by his inner light. with open waking of eyes fixed hard on distance. Now does he under- stand the woods. merely the intercourse of life was rendered difficult.

of most transparent The joy of wielding this new power comprehensibility. which yet becomes a most immediate experience. so imminent in every sound of Nature. turns next to humor all grief of being breaks before this vast enjoyment of the play therewith. {Letter to A. 1854). Each challenge of self-vaunting reason is hushed forthwith by the magic mastering our whole nature. is Brahma had duped himself. The effect upon the hearer is precisely that deliverance from all earthly guilt. knowledge pleads confession of its error. freed conscience banters with its torment overpassed. with all their so closely allied tone-works from this godlike period of the master's total deafness. January. is the sublime.* as he sees how hugely he it with the sting of guilt atoned. guiltlessness re-won disports Here the only esthetic term to use. however earnestly the spellbound features of the listener betray his marvel at the impotence of all our seeing and our thinking to plumb this truest of all worlds. Wotan in Siegfried: "My jovial god who craves his Translator. is lulled to smiling: the — words of the Redeemer when Symphony? " listening to the ' ' Pastoral Now thrives apace that power of shaping the unfathom- able. Even the cry. * — own undoing" . as the after-effect is the feeling of a forfeited paradise wherewith we return to the world of semblances. Rbckel. the world-creator : laughing at himself. Cf. the never-seen.BEETHOVEN music 249 world regains its childhood's innocence. the ne'er experienced. Thus do these glorious works preach penitence and a contrite heart with all the depth of a divine revelation. and the transport of that avowal bids our deepest soul to shout for joy. for here the operation of the radiant at once transcends all pleasure in the beautiful. Never has any art in the world created aught so radiant (" etwas so Heiteres ") as these symphonies in A and F. " Today shalt thou be with me in Paradise " who has not heard these steeped in that marvelous serenity (" Heiterkeit ") which first acquired through him. and leaves it far behind.

. we nursed the silent wish to have thee back once " of more in our dear homeland? That " Schwarmerei thine: with all the power of sympathy. within the proudest minster of a haughty nation. it made of thee the darling of thy folk! Ne'er has a German-er musician Where'er thy genius bore thee. [250] . a child believing in the tales and legends told it of its country. if. thy heart welled song on song. for more with you. to whatlived.. we dared to hope thou'dst liefer choose a modest grave in German soil for thy last For thou wast none of those chill seekers resting-place. thou turn'dst thy yearning gaze betimes toward the hearth of home. dear ones! wherewith thou pass'dst from life. Trench. than thou. and — • From In Paris and Dresden. London. Ltd. after fame who own no fatherland. Trlibner & Co. the guardian angel that preserved it ever chaste and pure. it stayed forever linked by thousand tendrils to the German people's heart. to whom that plot of earth is dearest where ambition finds the rankest soil in which to thrive. Eh! 'twas this cliildlikeness that led thy manhood's spirit. soever distant realms of floating fancy. toward the modest country nook where. Permission Kegan Paul. that heart with which it wept and laughed. Was it a fate that drove thee whither Genius itself must bring itself to market. laying thy fair dreams to heart. seated with thy loving "Ah! were I once wife. Wast thou so fond a dreamer. then who shall blame us that we felt alike toward thee. sure. " this was the latest sigh.SPEECH AT WEBER'S GRAVE* TRANSLATED BY WILLIAM ASHTON ELLIS (1844) arrman I ERE rest thee then! Here be the unassuming ! jrl/l/ (Cinastca spot that holds for us thy dear-loved relics And had they flaunted there midst vaults of princes.

. we lead thee back into thy country. As thou maintain 'dst that shining virtue ever spotless. become a blessed spirit. and now. who long waited for thy coming back. From out the world. too. this highest virtue. thou needest thou needest but to feel. weeps hottest love-tears for the home-sped friend of her true heart. for whose sweet sake the world admires. and who shall blame us if we wished a morsel of his heart thine ashes. then was it that same Schwarmerei that makes us so akin to him. thy children wait for thee in very truth. that fairest heirloom of thy German birth thou never couldst betray us And lo the ! ! . which thou bedazzledst. Soon shalt thou feel above this resting-place had so long! the tread of thy fond wife. naught invent and straightway hadst thou found the font original. — Briton may yield thee justice. what of thy family And so. the threshold of the father-house. His thou art. and we. ye men who so misprised the nature of the German. To the world of the living. she belongs and thee. dear Weber. that heart which dotes on what it loves. beside her darling son. should form a -portion of dear German soil? Upbraid us not. naught to ponder. Thou kept'st it till thy death. thou couldst not cast it off or barter it. the Frenchman admiration. where wife and child await him. a beauteous day amid his life.SPEECH AT WEBER'S GRAVE 251 in that chasteness lay thy individual stamp. when — — who 'tis ! most rejoiced him after glorious days upon the field of honor? For sure. no more can she greet thee face to face but God hath sent an envoy forth to greet — — — . the bosom Ask the hero who went out to victory. but the German alone can love thee. should mingle with his earth. a warm drop of his own blood. love that prompts us to a work never sought 'st for admiration. we snatch from eyes of admiration and but solely love bring to arms of love. we love him. thee of love. And see! we have no need to speak in images: thy wife. the phantasy whence sprang the glorious blossoms — of his genius. Was it dotage bade us claim the precious coil of our dear Weber.

commingle eternal. The stone that closes on thy earthly shell shall then become for us the desert rock from which the man of might once smote sweet waters. thou dear departed. e'er-creative life. Where now is death? Where life? Where both join . no in that bond! more decay. grant that we prove ever mindful. Then shall we know no longer death. hands in bond so wondrous fair. but only flower-time and harvest. there is the seed of life Let us as well. ever worthy of this bond ! .252 THE GERMAN CLASSICS thee eye to eye on thy return. conveying messages of love from each to each. to bear thee tidings of thy dear ones' everlasting love. to knit the bond 'twixt living and deceased an angel of light he hovers now between you. Thy youngest son was chosen for that office. Great Fountain of all being. to farthest ages shall it pour a glorious stream of ever-quickened.

1844. father's and his mother's side % he descended from several Among generations of Lutheran Protestant clergymen. Ph. and also. Richard Wagner. more distantly. October 15. for both of which he exhibited rare talents. entering the University of Bonn in 1864 to take up the study of philology and theology. Professor the historian of German literature. and theological knowledge. The boy lost his father in 1849. himself. however.FRIEDRICH WILHELM NIETZSCHE ft By Professor of Karl. Bryn Mawr College RIEDRICH WILHELM NIETZSCHE was born at Rocken near the battlefield of Liitzen. Greek. especially mentioned. Among his teachers. Racially "* Thuringian with. in Upper Saxony. Elizabeth) moved to Naumburg on the river Saale. must be Koberstein.D. he is a Protestant Polish noblemen. German. to Lessing and Fichte. of the great Master Eckhart. and in 1850 the family (consisting of his mother. is as legendary as that of Kant from It is. German reading." famous for their classical curricula. the College at Schulpforta. Luther. and particularly his love of He graduated with unusual proficiency in Latin. one of the three " Fiirsten-und Landes-Schulen. He soon dropped the latter. After some pre- men of Germany he is racially related to liminary humanistic schooling at the Naumburg Gymnasium he entered. German Literature. and a sister. since his influence is evident in Nietzsche's Holderlin. dividing his time between classical philology and music. Bach. a fact that both «on his Scotch ancestry. Leibniz. probably. although asserted by Nietzsche himself. a strain The extraction from a family of the Slavic. Detlev Jessen. in 1858. and Treitschke. After a transient inter[253] .

studies in Leipzig were interrupted for one year by his military service in the regiment of field-artillery at Naumburg. among others. to whose recommendation he also owed the call to Basel Homer delivered his inaugural lecture in May. happiness even in the memory of the days which Nietzsche spent in the composer's domicile at Tribschen near Lucerne . the great historian. Returning to Leipzig and to his studies he became a contributor to the philological journal Rheinisches Museum. by his lectures on the Renaissance and on Greek Culture. came under the spell of His Wagner's music and Schopenhauer's philosophy. by his Considerations on Universal History and. and was appointed professor of classical philology in the University of Basel in Switzerland at the age of His alma mater bestowed on him the degree twenty-four. on and Classical Philology. of Doctor of Philosophy in absentia without an examination on motion of his teacher Professor Ritschl." He became a colleague. the latter through his extremely skeptical views on Christian theology as evidenced in his little book On the theologian. 1869. became his principal and revered guide. He served with great zeal and efficiency but suffered from long illness in consequence of a painful accident with his horse. of Jakob Burckhardt. In the fall of 1865 he followed his beloved teacher to the University of Leipzig and became his favorite pupil both by developing singular critical acumen and by demonstrating an extraordinary genius in literary style. was the influence that came to Nietzsche from his There is a resplendent friendship with Richard Wagner. the former Here he " Christianity of the Theology of Our Time. More important.254 est THE GERMAN CLASSICS shown in the organized students' life he concentrated his energies on his studies in Greek literature. and of Friedrich Overbeck. for which Eitschl. perhaps. During his student's years at Leipzig he and his friend Erwin Rohde. the classical philologist. later one of the most original and famous Greek philologists of the century. however. the Both exerted a decisive influence on Nietzsche.

entitled Richard Wagner in Bayreuth. in his military career. Paul Ree. Meanwhile. impassioned and aggres- marks The Birth of Tragedy as well as the last of the four essays called Thoughts Out of Season. almost virulent critical antagonism of The Case of Wagner. of course. this time with dysentery and diphtheria. enthusiastic fighter for the artistic ideas of his great friend. Wagnerism. after his return to Basel tion seems never to his nervous. and Wagnerism combined to shape the inner form of his first literary productions. which were confined to his learned speciality. He suffered a relapse. It was published in 1876. This was brought about in good part through the influence and by the assistance of a young German Jew. Nietzsche's enthusiasm gradually cooled and finally turned into the opposite the passionate. The Franco-German War intervened for a time and called Nietzsche into the field as a nurse in the military hospitals. Hellenism. is The Human. But there was somesive. thing incompatible in the mental and artistic characters of the two men. except those. Schopenhauer's Pessimism.FRIEDRICH WILHELM NIETZSCHE on his frequent visits there. . his protagonistic friendship for the great composer culminated. beginning already in the early seventies. Here again. In this essay. since his official connection with neutral Switzerland forbade his active participation as a lieutenant of artillery. 255 Nor did his enthusiasm for remain in the stage of selfish the cause of Wagnerism In word and deed he became an energetic and receptivity. Nietzsche had turned from German Romanticism and pessimistic idealism to the positivistic thought of England and France. the year of the triumphant dedication of Wagner's Festspielhaus at Bayreuth. published : in 1888. represented by in which Nietzsche took up for the literary expression of this development the two volumes of Human-All-Toofirst time the . high-strung constitu- have overcome completely the evil influence of this illness which made him a lifelong sufferer from the most painful spells of nervous indigestion. he fell violently ill. Dr.

to consume himself in his own There came forth Beyond Good and Evil intellectual fire. Rome. gave way completely so that he was forced to resign his proFrom 1879 fessorship and to let himself be pensioned. Professor Overbeck. among them the complete Antichrist. published in 1881 and 1882 books of aphorisms forming an overture to the respectively. in a great work to be called The Will to Power. unmistakable signs of madness of a megalomaniac character. His severest sufferings were gradually relieved after 1881. In January. in Basel. He managed to bring him to a sanatorium in Basel. since about 1875. in January. from where Nietzsche's mother had him transferred to the hospital of Professor Binswanger in Jena. Wagner (1888). and the autobiographical Ecce Homo. The fruits were The Dawn of during this time. as he once put it himself. when he entered upon the intellectually happiest period of his life. 1888. The Case of (1886). were published after his intellectual death. His last epistolary utterances to Jakob Burckhardt and Georg Brandes showed distinct. rento. Nietzsche might have paused vals from 1883 till 1885. at Sils Maria He made only brief visits to Germany in the Engadine. Thus Spake The four parts of it were written at. he suffered a stroke of apoplexy. 1889. mostly. thence 1889. Venice. interZarathustra. however. here. Before he could execute this his mind gave way. Turin. In December. Day and The The Twilight of the Idols (1889). till 1889 he spent his life principally in the South.256 aphoristic THE GERMAN CLASSICS form of writing. so characteristic of nearly all His physical health." He went to Turin and found Nietzsche a raving maniac. was greatly alarmed " and "The Crossed " Dionysos by letters signed with One. his Weltanschauung. most remarkable work from his pen. but he was restlessly driven on to produce and. one of the most extraordinary productions in the world 's literature. Extensive materials for the intended work. at Sorhis later work. his loyal friend. thus. . He finally intended to sum up his view of life. Joyful Wisdom. The Genealogy of Morals (1887).

recently. though. who spent. siastic lover of life. things. : " . . was XV — 17 . Several eminent wit- who saw him in his complete mental collapse have given us vivid impressions of a personality still I cite Mr. Elizabeth ForsterNietzsche. Perhaps he preof his life as a thinker and good books? he said quite ' book into his hands. The final 25. which became touchingly apparent in his conduct tom toward his mother and his nesses sister. a week and in the presence of the sick philosopher: "At least this life 's one supreme consolation for his people as one might end is not pessimistic. if not entirely. then in a villa at Weimar. nor lamentably gloomy. Hereditary influences may have been at work. considerate soul. He died on August Naumburg. I do not know which melancholy and His forehead is always admirable appeasing beauty as are his eyes.FRIEDRICH WILHELM NIETZSCHE to 257 years of his life were spent under the loving care of his sister. he still showed. this prophet of the Superman. although. now the home of the Nietzsche-Archiv. this apologist of energy. are commonly accepted by all sane critics of Nietzsche 's life and works First. with that is — — . Henri awe-inspiring in its mere existence. . the unmistakable evidence of a refined. which seem to be turned toward within. that his mental Two due. in 1898. ciative book on Nietzsche. far from that neurasthenic effeteness of so many intellectual people of our time. as his sister justly maintains. besides a sometimes exuberant love for music. . What not know. is an indefinable and profoundly going on in him ? One does served a vague remembrance Did I not also write poet. While his mental powers gradually waned. . yet certainly in a large to the restless and nervous pursuit of his thinkmeasure. Mrs. 1900. when one put a new ' touching expression. There is. The cause and nature of Nietzsche's disease are dis- puted. there was at botof his physical makeup a robust vitality. in the slow decline of this enthueasily imagine. first at Naumburg. himself the author of a sane and appreLichtenberger. collapse Vol.

Nietzsche's works. That a classical philologist. He had originally a high conception of his calling. however paradoxical they may seem to . not to mention others. the products of a madman. a thinking so mercilessly inconsiderate of his health and of the ease and comfort of his soul that the aspiration of his life may well be summed up in his proud saying: "I do not strive for my happiness. sent not what is commonly called a system. In fact.258 THE GERMAN CLASSICS ing. They exhibit.: be at times. a logical and essentially coherent and consistent unity from Whether accepted or not. rose to such an eminence as a cultural force may be considered good proof of the value of the study of ancient culture for our life and its higher problems. what may be considered a fact. he insisted that the higher schools ought to train for life satisfied him and its highest problems and not to be with turning out mere scholars. In his lectures " On the Future of our Educational Institutions. even if his work there was Textual criticism he largely confined to interpretation. are not the outpourings of a disorganized mind. an ardent but critical admirer of antiquity. and the testimony of Erwin Rohde and Otto Crusius. they reprebeginning to end." delivered at Basel in the first years of his professorial career. works his philological work is now presented to us in all its essential features. I am striving for my work. the severe training of the classical philologist served him well in his untiring intellectual honesty. has furnished none and but little of what is called emendation. And second. But he was destined to become more than a professor. on the contrary. There was in too much of the real cultural life and problematic . enthusiastic gusher. yet they are by no means unsystematic. is sufficient to establish his claim for eminent scholarship in his field. at Basel he called philology the exalted messenger of the In a supplement of three volumes to his collected gods. equally distant from the dry-as-dust schoolmaster and from In his inaugural address the vague. Nietzsche was an inspiring teacher.

Moreover was Schopenhauer. From the esthetic Hellenism of the German Romanticists he developed his own. beside himself. Holderlin was his favorThe influence of this romantic Hellenist is clearly there seen in Nietzsche's dithyrambic lyrical style. and in opposition to the philistine self-sufficiency of his ries. but one of the democratizing influences which must lead to mediocrity. The most important. contemporapopular and acknowledged by the time. besides his own idealistic hauer. if not barbarism. On the Use and As regards composition and style it is of History. is true." Goethe. Hellenism. of this set of essays is the second. He. Richard Wagner. is. he too of unmistakable romantic origin and leanings. but the man Schopenhauer was to him an ideal of heroic life spent in thought. pleads. Nietzsche bitingly satirized in the literary portrait of the later David Friedrich Strauss. the type of which. Schopenhauer's pessimistic philosophy did not affect Nietzsche very deeply.FRIEDRICH WILHELM NIETZSCHE 259 thought of his age to stultify himself with what he so wit" Schopentily designated as philistinism of culture. The modern " histrace of Emerson's views toric sense. and Apollinian is directly traceable to Friedrich Schlegel." and only that is really fruitful in history and worthy of our consideration which gives us enthusiasm and serves us There is also recognizable a for our own life problems. We of Dionysian The antithesis know that. even at Schulpforta. especially in his views on esthetics. according to Nietzsche. on history. with Richard Wagner's music-drama. the most finished product of Nietzsche 's pen. on the contrary. ite poet." leading to a shallow optimism and worship of success as well as to a cowardly effete lack in real cultural energy. as evidenced in his Birth of Tragedy. Abuse however. But Nietzsche connects this antithesis with that last and greatest of romantic offshoots. He perhaps starts from the seemingly pragmatistic conception of his" tory which Goethe held Only what is fruitful. furnish the principal elements of the five great essays with which he entered the field of German literature. like Carlyle .

but they live out of time as contemporaries and thanks to history that permits such a company. he had yet to travel that long road on which soon he found himself alone. as his less and less understanding . at least the wo of them. Over the bridge of these convictions he was to travel in search of the Superman. The task of history is to be the mediator between and even to give the motive and the great man.260 THE GERMAN CLASSICS or Emerson. he found and sympathy for what he planned and thought and wrote. Zarathustra epic that he had discovered the land and abode of his ideals. for the man of genius as the true meaning " The time will come when we shall of history. Overbook and Rohde remained no longer the respondent echoes of his voice. undisturbed by the wanton. the central conception of his But before proclaiming exultantly in his philosophy. except as an esthetic phenomenon. Miss Lou Salome. and the high spirit-talk goes on. but even his reverenced Greeks were critically viewed and much of their teaching was discarded. Schopenhauer. who form a sort of bridge over the wan stream of becoming." these. inflicting irreparable wounds on a heart craving t his nearest friends. Nietzsche pronounced We the world senseless. they live as the republic of geniuses of which Schopenhauer One giant calls to the other across the waste speaks. noisy dwarfs who creep in among them. that he felt more and more a vital antagonism to Schopenhauer's teachings. spaces of time. power lie to produce ultimately only see here something of the contempt for history which animated his teacher. oven went so far as to forsake him ignofirst miniously. . Not only that he parted from Wagner. wisely keep away from all constructions of the world-process. The aim of mankind can in its highest examples. Burckhardt wrote him letters with an undertone of irony. or even of the history of man a time when we shall no more look at masses but at individuals. Among development went on. like Paul Ree. and Malvida von Moysonbug. . The lesser minds. They may not perhaps continue a process.

is cast aside. we shall get and after every victory our goal will be put farther there. by the sceptic moralists of France from Pascal Whatever had been in to Chamfort. in good means. tion. But he has not fallen into those puerile archaisms in which the English translations of this work needlessly abound. in three periods of ten days each. joyful tones of his Dawn of Day and The Joyful Wisdom. the doctrines of A Dionysian Eternal Recurrence. in our race ! and more distant goals 0. The language of Luther's Bible is at the botattacked me. I now be: ' ' lieve only in becoming better. The keynote of his wandering search is struck in a letter to Rohde Let us be courageous. Reality is faced "All human life is deeply engulfed in unshrinkingly. The tragedy of his life begins. especially as rephilosophy gards form. without looking upon all present causes of action as absurd. . in which are foresounded already the leitmotifs of his Zarathustra. without opposing irony and contempt to the passions which lead us to trust in the future and in a coming happiness. in our growth in good intentions and our becoming better. He felt as though he had given the age its greatest book. him of romantic pessimism and mere estheticism.FRIEDRICH WILHELM NIETZSCHE 261 for friendship. the Superman and of In feverish exaltaintoxication takes possession of him." The two volumes of Human. a free thinker and philosophy have cast over mankind. dear friend. ' ' ' ' he says. especially He avows himself a freeof Schopenhauer. and . sweet. away and we shall race on more courageously. he writes his didac" Zarathustra tic-dithyrambic Thus Spake Zarathustra. my dear. free from all fetters which religion thinker.All-Too-Human are transiHe is influenced by the positivistic tional in this race. ' ' tom of this bitter." But with his health restored. after ever nobler — error the individual cannot get out of this draw-well without becoming profoundly hostile to all his past. rich and mellow poetic prose. and by Lichtenberg. his ideal develops from the positivistic into the positive. of France and England and. a book as extraordinary in style as in thought.

didactic. Let your will say: the Superman shall be the meaning of the earth. of cultural degeneracy." the only significant instance where Nietzsche's philosophy becomes metaphysical. It is work philosophical. differently attuned in the preponderating didactic parts. a sui generis. Even his best friends received the work coldly and his passionate hope for ap" was not ful" proval by a select set of good Europeans filled.262 THE GERMAN CLASSICS An unheard-of wealth of imagery is spread over this. and the dithyrambic poetry for which Holderlin and Goethe have yielded the intrinsic formal elements. Man is something that must be surpassed. The solitude of his higher productive . the conception of : ' ' I teach you the Superman. and in the lyrical prose-poems of the nightsongs. of that great tide. " Eternal Recurrence. And of paramount im" portance. the dance-songs. the doctrine of the Superman. a trenchant criticism of life. I teach you the Superman. At the time of their publication the first three books attracted very little attention." The decisive passage is contained in one of the speeches of Zarathustra First. and would rather go back to the beast than surpass man? Behold. Therefore was only privately printed in forty copies. mystical." In Zarathustra is displayed not only a satire on this age . his magnum opus. and ye want to be the ebb. the disapproval of silence fell on the fourth book them and on Nietzsche's soul. The attempt to sow the seed of his new revolutionizing thought in the noble soul of the young Karl Heinrich von Stein also miscarried. its author had forgotten that he ever wrote it. . There is music in every line. dithyrambic. When it was given to the public. in 1892. To call the Zara- thustra of Nietzsche a religious epic is misleading. The Superman is the meaning of the earth. . ecstatic. Only the faithful Peter Gast held out to the last. Two central ideas dominate the work. What have ye done to surpass him? All beings hitherto have created something higher than themselves. but a new ideal is held up and proclaimed. the Seven Seals. mystic. the sermons of Zarathustra.

eterto bear up under necessity. end was insanity. Nevertheless he did not give up the All he wrote fight for five years. ." not amor only doubt also that he thought of his own writings in this " There are books passage from Beyond Good and Evil: which have an inverse value for our soul and our health. with their equality before God from man . especially of his dear sister in far-away Paraguay. and claims. of degenerating and dwarfing man to an absolutely gregarious of brutalizing him into a pigmy with equal rights animal. with sublime self-constraint. Socialism and Democracy. fiercely and contemptuously the existing moral systems. In the former No case they are dangerous. 263 the misunderstanding also of his family. He accuses both. law of the thousandfold failures and perishings to prevail men not sufficiently noble to see the radically different grades of rank and intervals of rank that separate man such men. those fateful days in 1889 may be after Zarathustra until said to be an interpretation in hard prose of what he had He lived poetically expressed in his great prose-poem. or the higher and more powerful make use of them. disturbing. unsettling books. but to love it. drove him at times The to despair and to the use of dangerous quieting drugs." were thoroughly out of season becomes at once apparent in He opposes most his criticism of the tendencies of the time. the obvious sighted to allow.FRIEDRICH WILHELM NIETZSCHE self. the Christian as well as the utilitarian ethics. : — ' ' . . until he broke down. especially of modern England. He is a violent anti-socialist and antidemocrat. either in the past or in the future. expressed in his journal in 1888: formula for a man's greatness nally. . Unmitigated and sweeping is also his disagreement with and attack on Christianity "I should say that Christianity has hitherto been the most portentous of : Men not sufficiently strong and farpresumptions. in the latter case they are herald-calls which summon the That the thoughts expressed bravest to their bravery. is up My fati: not to wish to alter a single fact. according as the inferior soul and the lower vitality. " to his thought.

the ingredient material for his Superman or what he sometimes calls the good European. the real nobleman. sickly. aspires her banners. a discipline A of the will lor responsibility. not toward an indiThe mind of the herd is to prevail vidualistic morality.264 THE GERMAN CLASSICS have hitherto swayed the destiny of Europe. ' ' wonder at the productive artist in but related to Theodore Roosevelt's race-suicide). the European of the present day. mediocre. until at last a dwarfed. This leads us to the positive side of his teachings. Christianity has brought into the world and is upholding. especially race-pessimism (not exactly the same : woman retrogrades. for distance from the mass of the " much-too-many. which. Let us from the very beginning state emphatically that Nietzsche does not advocate individualist or anarchistic ethics. — need a fundamentally different valuation of their own actions." new asceticism (in the original sense of the Greek word) is demanded for the higher man.' and inscribes progress on rights. an almost masculine stupidity." He is an anti-feminist. the very opposite is brought to pass with — — ' ' ' terrible obviousness Nor does one him revolting passionately against the mechanization and intellectualization of human existence. instead of which there to be cultivated a noble indifference against pain and life itself for which he ought to be prepared to sacrifice men." Cheap and weakly sentimentalism is to be ruthlessly destroyed in him. But he wants to abolish the slave-morality. according to him. almost ludicrous species has been produced. While she appropriates new might to be master. But beyond everything he opposes pessimism. for the racially predestined higher man. " My philosophy is directed toward establishing rank.. is . but not beyond it: the leaders of the herd in the herd. of which a well-reared woman who is always a sensible woman be heartily ashamed. " a in the emancipation of woman he sees nothing but remarkable symptom of the increased weakening and dead" " There is ening of the most womanly instincts: stupidity in this movement. something obliging. a gregarious animal.

Co.Permission Berlin Photo.. New York John Philipt FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE .


and to entertain and refresh the warriors. but also of the mass above which the lower should rise. an idea of the abundance of his psychological observations. It is a curious fact that Nietzsche never exhibits the least inclination toward sexual laxity. not the mere will to live. art. For a democratic age. his remarks on style. So for him the essence of all history for life. instincts. not <t>dia ka\ ^rko? (Empedocles) but a r d> v for victory and supremacy. Man is to love not so much his father- land as his children's land. in his Transvaluation of all Values. not the struggle but the struggle for a higher and stronger exis- tence. and how much more the has grown to be free free spirit tramples under foot that despicable kind o? comfort of which grocers." And the women of this class are to bear warriors other instincts. but the instinct for a higher self. the life-loving. strong men and women. the will to power. which requires the higher man to submit to to the standards of the lower. Englishmen the free man is a warand other democrats are dreaming rior. who are beyond good and evil and the slave-morals of Christianity. It is impossible to give . but the and more perfect life.FRIEDRICH WILHELM NIETZSCHE not excepting himself.. Christians. he claims speaks of the garden of aristocrats are to be reared have discovered the law which has brought about every cultural climax in the world's history. that the manly war and victory have sway over the man who The e. notably the classical Greek age and the Renaissance. who are good since they are strong. women. lifeasserting new generation. g. — — and mothers of warriors. on man and ideas. is will to live a higher or ought to be. cows. over the instinct for happiness. rejoicing in 265 " Freedom means. philosophy. Finally. The selections of this volume aim to give some representative specimens out of a wealth such as no other modern writer displays. He matrimony in which the young and trained to be warriors or mothers. is working at the degradation not only of the higher man. not the instinct for self-preservation. the great vice of modern times.

for lie writes. in Morike. The reader is advised not to take up Ecce Homo until fairly well introduced into the work and world of the writer. with legal justification. not to mention the Greeks. and. Nietzsche feared himself that the courts might confiscate the published volume. I am. whom he knew so well. Uhland. in a letter to Georg Brandes: ends in thunder and lightning against everything Christian or infected by Christianity . Holderlin. one of the most curious. Novalis. which contains. when it came out in an expensive limited edition. to say the least.. On the other hand he excelled again in the trenchant. since the Klopstockian renascence. at last. It was withheld from the public until 1908.266 THE GERMAN CLASSICS his lyrics the Dionysian dithyrambs are most remarkrhythm and thought. have contributed elements for this side of his lyrical style. " Among them the youthful but important to be said about the To the Unknown God. most consummately. mocking satire of his didactic-epigrammatic Spriiche. to either form or content of Nietzsche's poetry. ties of lyrical Goethe throughout his long career. It is obvious that the other great rejuvenating influence of German poetry. not to be found in Ihe nineteen volumes of his collected works. contributed but little. in e." an influence so evident. all these predecessors of exquisite rhythmical perfection. Now it can be read in any of the three authorized standard editions of the works.. as he frankly " It admits. The pre-Italian Goethe. Eichendorff. the " Volkslied. Heine. the first . one of the most sincerely personal ever given to posterity. the German language revealed some of its most secret powers. In the long line of eminent autobiographical portraits and statements since Saint Augustine's Confessions. it is certainly. a number of his most characteristic lyrical effusions. He therein most successfully developed those rhythmical qualities and beauable in originality of Of expression in which. g. if anything. Something remains Ecce Homo.. in Heine." There is a collection of his Gedichte und Spriiche. strange to say.

his services have been phenomenal and the influence of his example as a writer. Eckertz has to say in his Nietzsche als Kiinstler. and painstaking labor to give to his thoughts the most adequate expression. as well as in an article on Nietzsche's word formahas made valuable contributions to the subject. in his German Style. He did not aim at being a stylist. in tion. not the least on account of its dissonances. As a force for the development of German style. a " The longest chapter I am smooth talker like Sainte-Beuve or Matthew Arnold. Richard M. after a writing Why life-long. passionate. Meyer. ardent.* Lewisohn. for stirring the conscience with regard to rhythm and architecture of literary prose. sympathetically appreciative study of Nietzsche is this ex- traordinary psychographical self-portrayal fully understood. of his direct teachings and of his sarcasms about the ordinary German prose style. a study on Zarathustra. as a magnificent closing movement in the extraordinary sym- phony of self expression which Nietzsche's lifework represents. Of Nietzsche's remarks and aphorisms on style and writing one might compose a little book on literary style more suggestive and momentous than any- we have received on this subject in any language since Goethe and Schopenhauer." Nietzsche. of the paramount importance to be attached to his style. whether he knew Arnold and simply kept a contemptuous silence about him. put forth on the style of What Ludwig the Zarathustra is insufficient and dissects it too much after the fashion of Of a much higher caliber and very suggestive is what collegiate rhetoric. was fully aware not only of the extraordinary character of his thoughts. on the whole. He has inimitably characterized the former. E. bring into play such heavy projectiles as no adversary of Christianity believed even to be existing. as a veteran gunner. is bearing fruit in an ever increasing cultivation of the formal elements of Gerthing man * imaginative and descriptive writing. but no less. .FRIEDRICH WILHELM NIETZSCHE 267 psychological interpreter of Christianity and I can." Only after the acquisition of a thorough and. we do not know. of the Ecce Homo bears the headline such good books.

These deficiencies are completely absent in anything that came from his pen. w it. the rhythm and melody of the language. It is interesting. If any individual writers are to be mentioned. which he calls " which be best classical in gems into their proper setting. Although highly interesting. Of these the spondents. materially and admittedly contributed to his aphoristic Indeed he considered these French ll penseurs " as style. although. Of German writers Luther. as personal documents of an extraordinary career. preeminently. here he succeeded in gaining rank with the very foremost masters of German prose style. although excellently attuned to his corre- work: letters. He realized after all that there were hidden treasures in his vernacular tongue. however arduous might be the task of bringing them to light. rendered. Lessing. and vagueness. Goethe. essays. clearness. roughly speaking. yet in the matter of style they are far outranked by his essays and his aphorisms. almost every one of them. Goethe. to the prose of Luther and Goethe. Lichtenberg. friendship. of putting these exquisite iH-ss. thustra. finally. he owes much to his study of the ancients. a remark- . with effete. Of course. Thucydides. form and thought as the ancients. directness. and Horace come in for his unreserved admiration. Schopenhauer. And. Sallustius.268 THE GERMAN CLASSICS Leaving aside the autobiographic book. Precision. it may be compared in point of expressiveness. full of charm. four principal literary forms in Nietzsche's prose aphorisms. ausgelitzt" may perhaps. Schopenhauer. sincerity. and Heine. Besides Lichtenberg. however. running not infrequently into high debate. from Pascal to Chamfort. furthermore Holderlin. and Thus Spake Zaraletters may be dismissed without much discussion. pitfalls into which Gerprose writers only too often had tumbled. worded T excellently. with Luther. also. He hated diffuse- man imprecision. Here he attempted to give literary form. Heine. the French moralists. with regard to his Zarathustra. to note his remark on the French language. there are. and Stifter have helped to form his style.

Here especially. what justification would notes of plangency have in Nietzsche's melodies. may in Master of periodic diction in his essays. At any rate. and in the exquisite art of his Zarathustra. and in classical But he was inevitably led into that aphoristic plasticity. was first discovered by me. the great style of periodic dicfor the expression of a colossal up and down of tion. antithetical and restless energy of his mind accepted this form of epigrammatic prose as the most natural for expression. There is a chapter in medium Ecce Homo wherein he asserts that nobody before him knew what could be done with German or with any language. vigor. he cut and ground the noble material of his native language into gems of resplendent fineness. Nietzsche vies them with Emerson in the abundance of suggestive ideas displayed. seemingly erratic. this opinion. in well-tempered balance. with a dithyramb as the last of the third book of Zarathustra. marvelous rhythmical beauty — Nietzsche possesses them to perfection. and prevalent also in those reverenced pre-Socratic thinkers in whose philosophies he had made himself profoundly at home. to speak with Goethe). of superhuman passion. The paradoxical. sublime. In the style and composition of Thus Spake Zarathustra he avowedly followed and developed Luther's translation . form.FRIEDRICH WILHELM NIETZSCHE 269 able faculty of playing wittily with words and sentences. which. require major and not minor keys? appreciative and sensible source. coming from such an be here cited as a curiosity. ' If Have- lock Ellis British ear fails to discover melody and rhythm in Nietzsche's style. so admired in the French moralists. I flew a thousand miles beyond what hitherto was called poetry." As a creative force in German style Nietzsche takes rank with Luther and with Goethe. suggestiveness (or pregnancy. especially in his Zarathustra. " The art of great rhythm. headed The Seven Seals. far excelling him in keenness of psychological observation. from the very nature of the thought expressed. and.

the conform and content into a thing of overpowering beauty puts this work among the greatest achievements of literature. though. He transformed the half-mythical person of the founder of Persian religion into the symbolical form of his own Zarathustra. and Spitteler. Superman. his laughter. to give examples from three languages. has received some of No strongest arguments from Nietzsche's teachings. sound. for instance. are employed in this didactic-epic prose-poem and bid fair to secure for Volumes it a position which may outlast all his other work. his joys. in so many of his utterances. Bernard Shaw. hopes. All this is visualized in a language drawing every its reader of some artistic sense into imaginable means of rhetoric. their logical and their psychological contents. bitternesses. But the biblical. the psychologist. alliteration. THE GERMAN CLASSICS In the attempt to utilize the biblical style for the utterance of boldest modern thought he left far behind him Lamennais. symbolism of color. splendidly varied rhythm. have already been written to interpret its ideas. and artist. the prophet. the creator of the philosopher. Every a wealth of connotative nuances of words. cultural and racial policy can henceforth heedlessly higher pass by that storehouse of suggestions and observations . Nietzsche's influence is I do not hesitate to say this. exerting itself on the great and the minor literatures of Europe. appears as a coarser But beside that repetition of his acknowledged master. in some of its aspects. are Nietzsche's own writings.270 of the Bible. The best commentary on it. nels. plays on words and sentences. magic spell. recently published a study on the paradoxical style of Zaratkustra. But whatever dissections the investigating summate art of blending mind may yet undertake. his restless and courageous struggle against himself and the world. Walt Whitman. Karl Gross. self. its Nietzsche's ideas are working their way into many chanEugenics. after all. his teachings. embodying therein his ideal seer. is only one of the elements of style and composition welded together so magically in his greatest artistic achievement.

and lived up to his ideal as a philosopher of the severe. Thus his personality re- ceives the insignia of true tragic greatness. ascetic type. as it was lived. He is a philosopher. foresaw him. the heroic man. . a revival of the chosen people as it were. With all the passion of his soul Nietzsche proclaimed him. the editor of the English edition of Nietzsche's works. demonstrate the effect of Nietzsche's thought. He did not hesitate to sacrifice himself for his ideal. his titanic struggle. takes from them The their ideals of Nietzsche. Oscar Levy. for he strove to be not only a seeker after truth but the creator of new ethical commandments. new hope for and assurance of the prominent part the Hebrew race is going to play in the spectacle of bringing the ideals of superhumanity into being.FRIEDRICH WILHELM NIETZSCHE 271 One instance for many maycontained in Zarathustra. not only a teacher but a guide of mankind. center in the conception of the higher. Were it possible that all his ideas were either absorbed or dis- carded. his life. has raised Friedrich Nietzsche among the immortals of human heroism. not in the narrowed sense of modern times. presented in the foregoing in most essential outlines.

and my serpent. Bless me. Therefore must I descend into the deep: as thou doest the evening. until the wise have once more become joyous in their folly. as men say.FRIEDRICH WILHELM NIETZSCHE THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA* TRANSLATED BY THOMAS COMMON (1883-85) ZARATHUSTRA'S PROLOGUE 1 — Zarathustra was thirty years old. he left home and the lake of his home. when thou goest behind the sea. Lo! I am weary of my wisdom. and spake thus unto it: Thou great star What would be thy happiness if thou his ! ! HEN hadst not those for whom thou shinest For ten years hast thou climbed hither unto my cave: thou wouldst have wearied of thy light and of the journey. took from thee thine overflow. and for ten years did not weary of it. . and the poor happy in their riches. to whom I shall in (1<'SC«'11(1. he went before the sun. would fain bestow and distribute. and givest light also to the nether-world. [272] New York. thou exuberant star! Like thee must I go down. But we awaited thee every morning. had it not been for me. then. I need hands outstretched to take I it. But at last his heart changed. spirit and his solitude. like the bee that hath gathered too much honey. and went There he enjoyed his into the mountains. mine eagle. that canst behold even the greatest happiness without envy! • Permission The Macmillan Company. thou tranquil eye. and rising one morning with the rosy dawn. and blessed thee for it.

loathing lurketh about his mouth. : in the land of the sleepers? "As in the sea hast thou lived in solitude. Man is a thing ' ' too imperfect for me. I recognize Zarathustra. no one meeting him. wilt thou now go ashore? Alas. and carry everywhere the reflection of thy bliss Lo! This cup is again going to empty itself. When he entered the forest." 1 ' said the saint. but he hath : altered. that the water flow golden out of it. Alas. a child hath Zarathustra bean awakened one is Zarathustra what wilt thou do . Zarathustra he was called. : I do not love. a dancer? " Pure is his eye. ' ' ' ' 1 ' Now I love God men. Thus began Zarathustra 's down-going. and it hath borne thee up. 2 Zarathustra went down the mountain alone. did I go into the forest and the desert? Was it not because I loved men far too well? Why. there suddenly stood before him an old man. men" XV — 18 . And thus spake the old man to Zarathustra " No stranger to me is this wanderer: many years ago passed he by. Zarathustra answered What spake I of love I am ' ' : ! bringing gifts unto Vol. and ! Zarathustra is again going to be a man. who had left his holy cot to seek roots. Love to man would be fatal to me. however. Then thou carriedst thine ashes into the mountains now carry thy fire into the valleys ? Fearest thou not the incendiary's doom? ' ' : wilt thou Yea.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA may «273 Bless the cup that is about to overflow. and no Goeth he not along like come "Altered is Zarathustra. wilt thou again drag thy body thyself? " Zarathustra answered: " I love mankind.

he bowed to What should I have to give thee ' ' : ! me rather hurry hence lest I take aught away from thee! " And thus they parted from one another. a bird amongst birds? " ! — in "And what Zarathustra. When Zarathustra was alone. doeth the ' ' saint the forest? " asked The saint answered I make hymns and sing them and in making hymns I laugh and weep and mumble thus : . the old man and Zarathustra. And just as at night. : singing. give them no more than an alms." said the saint. But what dost thou bring praise us as a gift? " do I praise God." replied Zarathustra. however. " The fall of our footsteps ringeth too hollow through their streets. and let them also beg for it " " " No. weeping.274 THE GERMAN CLASSICS " Take rather " Give them nothing. that part of their load. and carry it along with them will be most agreeable unto them: if only it be agreeable unto thee! 11 If. laughing like schoolboys. so they ask themselves concerning us: Where goeth the thief? " Go not to men. he said to his — ' ' This old saint in the forest Could it be possible hath not yet heard of it." The saint laughed at Zarathustra. and spake thus: that they accept thy treasures They are distrustful of anchorites. however. that God is dead! " heart : ! . laughing. " With When Let the saint and said Zarathustra had heard these words. thou wilt give unto them. I give no alms. and do not believe that we come • ' Then see to it ! with gifts. when they are in bed and hear a man abroad long before sunrise. I am not — ! poor enough for that. but stay in the forest! Go rather to the animals Why not be like me a bear amongst bears. and mumbling do I the God who is my God.

THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA When 276 3 Zarathustra arrived at the nearest town which adjoineth the forest. remain true to the earth. and to rate the heart of the unknowable higher than the meaning of the earth ! Once the soul looked contemptuously on the body. And Zarathustra spake thus unto the people : you the Superman. . and then that contempt was the supreme thing: the soul wished the body meagre. and famished. them! Once blasphemy against God was the greatest blasphemy but God died. and even yet man is more of an ape than any of the apes. Even the wisest among you is only a disharmony and hybrid of plant and phantom. To blaspheme the earth is now the dreadfulest sin. Man is something that is to be surpassed. Once were ye apes. and therewith also those blasphemers. hopes Despisers of life are they. I teach you the Superman The Superman is the meaning of the earth. Ye have made your way from the worm to man. ghastly. for it had been announced that a ropedancer would give a performance. whether they know it or not. Thus it — thought to escape from the body and the earth. decaying ones and poisoned ! : ! ! ones themselves. he found many people assembled in the market-place. and believe not those who speak unto you of superearthly Poisoners are they. and would rather go back to the beast than surpass man? 7 teach : What shame. What have ye done to surpass man? All beings hitherto have created something beyond themselves and ye want to be the ebb of that great tide. Let your will say The Superman shall be the meaning of the earth I conjure you. of whom the earth is weary : so away with . a thing of man be to the Superman : a laughing-stock. a thing of shame. my brethren. But do I bid you become phantoms or plants? Lo. is And the ape to just the man? same A shall laughing-stock. and much within you is still worm.

How weary I am of my good and my bad It is all poverty and pollution and wretched self-complacency! " The hour when ye say: " What good is my justice! I do not see that I am fervor and fuel. Lo. The hour when ye say: " What good is my happiness! It is poverty and pollution and wretched self-complacency. But my happiness should justify existence itself! " The hour when ye say: "What good is my reason! Doth it long for knowledge as the lion for his food? It is poverty and pollution and wretched self-complacency The hour when ye say: il What good is my virtue! As yet it hath not made me passionate. my brethren." Have ye ever spoken thus? Have ye ever cried thus? Ali would that I had heard you crying thus! ! It is not your sin ! — it is your self-satisfaction that crieth unto heaven. One must be a sea. to receive a polluted stream without becoming impure. The just. your very sparingness in sin crieth unto heaven Where Where is is is the lightning to lick you with its tongue? Lo.276 THE GERMAN CLASSICS itself Oh. ghastly. however. I that frenzy] the frenzy with which ye should be inoculated? toad) you the Superman: he is that lightning. a polluted stream is man. soul! : What doth your body about your soul! Is your soul not poverty and pollusay tion and wretched self-complacency I Verily. also. and famished. that soul was meagre. are fervor and fuel! " The hour when ye say: " What good is my pity! Is ' ' ! ! not pity the cross on which he is nailed who loveth man? But my pity is not a crucifixion. tell me . The hour in which even your hap: and cruelty was the delight of that But ye. he — . I teach you the Superman he is that sea in him can your great contempt be submerged. piness becometh loathsome unto you. and so also your reason and virtue. What is the greatest thing ye can experience? It is the hour of great contempt.

a dangerous wayfaring. Thus seeketh he his own down-going. and prepare for him earth. that he may build the house for the Superman. I love him who reserveth no share of spirit for himself.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTBA When . looked at the people and wondered. however. or live no more. that the earth of the Superman may hereafter arrive. he live on. and an arrow of longing. and seeketh to know in order that the Superman may hereafter live. : I love him who loveth his virtue: for virtue is the will to down-going. but wanteth to be wholly the spirit of his virtue: thus walketh he as spirit over the bridge. one of the people called out We have now heard enough of the ropedancer it is time now for us to see him And all the at Zarathustra. who people laughed : ' ' ! thought the words applied to him. But the rope-dancer. for the sake of his virtue. a dangerous trembling and halting. I love those who do not first seek a reason beyond the I love those that stars for going down and being sacrifices. 4 Zarathustra. a dangerous looking-back. I love him who laboreth and inventeth. because they are the great adorers. I love him who liveth in order to know. What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not a goal: what is lovable in man is that he is an over-going A and a down-going. I love the great despisers. animal. ' ' 277 Zarathustra had thus spoken. Then he spake thus : Man is Superman — a rope stretched between the animal and the a rope over an abyss. know not how to live except as downfor they are the over-goers. dangerous crossing. I love him who maketh his virtue his inclination is and destiny: thus. goers. willing to . began his performance. and plant for thus seeketh he his own down-going. but sacrifice themselves to the earth. and arrows of longing for the other shore.

One virmore of a knot for one's destiny to cling I love who wanteth no thanks and doth not give back: for he always bestoweth. — When Zarathustra had spoken these words. I love him who is of a free spirit and a free heart thus is his head only the bowels of his heart his heart. however. " There they stand. I am a herald of the lightning. I love him whose soul is so overfull that he forgetteth himself. Lo. it is tue is more of a virtue than two.278 I love THE GERMAN CLASSICS Mm who desireth not too to. causeth his down-going. him who chasteneth his God. justifieth the future ones." said he to his heart. because him whose soul is lavish. many virtues. and redeemeth the past ones: for he is willing to succumb through the him who present ones. he again looked at the people. and a heavy drop out of the cloud : the lightning. and succumb as heralds. and desireth not to keep for himself. and all things are in him: thus all things become his down-going. and may succumb through a small matter: thus goeth he I love willingly over the bridge. I love all who are like heavy drops falling one by one out of the dark cloud that lowereth over man they herald : the coming of the lightning. . I love words in advance of and always doeth more than he promiseth: for he seeketh his own down-going. : . I love him whose soul is deep even in the wounding. " there they Laugh: they understand me not. and who then asketh: "Am I a dishonest player? — for he willing to succumb. 5 is the Superman. and was silent. I am not the mouth for these ears. I love him who is ashamed when the dice fall in his " favor. I love him who scattereth golden is his deeds. however. because he loveth his God: for he must succumb through the wrath of his God.

One still loveth one's neighbor and rubbeth against him. that which maketh them proud? Culture. They have left the regions where it is hard to live. the last liveth longest. and no lofty tree will any longer be able to grow thereon. is the last man! ' ' ' ' And It is thus spake Zarathustra unto the people: time for man to fix his goal. it distinguisheth them from the goatherds. who can no longer despise himself. they call it. It is time for man to plant the germ Still is his soil rich of his highest hope. Alas! There cometh the time of give the most despicable man. a star ? " The earth hath then become small. therefore. Alas! there cometh the time when man will no longer and the launch the arrow of his longing beyond man — string of his bow will have unlearned to whizz I tell you one must still have chaos in one. Alas! ! What is love? What is creation? What is longing? so asketh the last man and blinketh. They dislike.THUS SPAKE ZAKATHUSTRA 1 ' 279 learn to Must one first batter their ears. and on it there hoppeth the last man who maketh everything small. that they may hear with their eyes? Must one clatter like kettledrums and penitential preachers? Or do they only believe the stammerer? " They have something whereof they are proud. " I will speak unto them of the most contemptible thing: " that. for one needeth warmth. His species is ''What is — ineradicable like that of the ground-flea. Lo I show you the last man. enough for it. I tell you ye have still chaos in you. What do they call it. 1 ' man the last men. ! : : There cometh the time when man will no longer birth to any star. We have discovered happiness ' ' — say . to give birth to a dancing star. to hear of contempt of themSo I will appeal to their pride. But that soil will one day be poor and exhausted. however. selves. and blink thereby. for they need warmth.

both are too One still burdensome. perhaps. which " The is also called Prologue ": for at this point the shoutand mirth of the multitude interrupted him. they consider sinful: a fool who still stunableth over A little dreams. Zarathustra. every one is equal: he who hath other sentiments goeth voluntarily into the madhouse. have I lived in the mountains. however. and one herd! Every one wanteth the ' ' same. stones or men! He is distrustful. now and then: that maketh And much poison at last for a pleasant poison pleasant death. turned sad. worketh. One no longer becometh poor or rich. "We have discovered happiness." say the last men. They are clever and know all that hath happened: so there is no end to their raillery. and their pleasures for the night: but they have a regard for little health. too much have I hearkened unto the brooks and trees: now do I speak unto them as unto the goatherds. Zarathustra. 1 * — — They have their little pleasures for the day." they called out 11 make us into these last men! Then will we make thee a " And all the present of the Superman! people exulted and smacked their lips. to obey? Who still wanteth to rule? Who still wanteth Both are too burdensome. and blink thereby. . People still fall out. Formerly all the world was insane. for work is a pastime.280 THE GERMAN CLASSICS ill Turning and being they walk warily. and blink thereby. but are soon reconciled otherwise it spoileth their stomachs. say the subtlest of them. No shepherd. But one is careful lest the pastime should hurt one. me not: I am not the mouth for u Too long. — — and said to his heart: " They understand these ears. And here ended the first discourse of Zarathustra. " Give ing — — us this last man.

I knew ' ' ' ' ' ' . when he thus saw his rival triumph. like an eddy of arms and legs. interloper. of course. especially where the body was about to fall. When. There is ice in their laughter. In the meantime. and a mocker with ter: ' ' And now do they look at me and laugh and while they laugh they hate me too. the rope-dancer had commenced his performance: he had come out at a little door. When he was just midway across. and jumped over the other who was in his way. and a gaudily-dressed fellow like a buffoon sprang out. face! lest I tickle thee — — . lazy-bones. he threw his pole away. thou shouldst be locked up to one better than thyself thou blockest the way! " And with every word he came nearer and nearer the first one. remained standing. and went rapidly after the first one. halt-foot. and clear. something happened which made every mouth mute and every eye fixed. and shot downward faster than it. The latter. What art thou doing there % said he at last. so that it hung above the market-place and the people. 1 ' my soul. rible jests. Go on. lost at the same time his head and his footing on the rope. : — The market-place and the people were like the sea when the storm cometh on they all flew apart and in disorder. but : not yet dead.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA <« 281 Calm is morning. like the mountains in the But they think me cold. Zarathustra. 6 Then. After a while consciousness returned to the shattered man. he was but a step behind. cried " his frightful voice. go on. however. and was going along the rope which was stretched between two towers. sallow' ' ' ' with my heel! What dost thou here between the towers? In the tower is the place for thee. and just beside him fell the body. and he saw Zarathustra kneeling beside him. however. into the depth. however. the little door opened once more. there happened the frightful thing which made every mouth mute and every eye fixed he uttered a yell like a devil. badly injured and disfigured. however.

however. therefore. gloomy are the ways of Zarathou cold and stiff companion! I carry thee I shall bury thee with mine own hands. to the place Come." not much more than an animal which hath been taught to dance by blows and scanty fare. and it. where the night. but a corpse.282 THE GERMAN CLASSICS Now he draggeth long ago that the devil would trip me up. Zarathustra. as yet without meaning: a buffoon 1 ' may be fateful to I want to teach is the Superman. nothing any more If thou speakest the The man looked up distrustfully. When Zarathustra had said this the dying one did not reply further but he moved his hand as if he sought the hand of Zarathustra in gratitude. ' ' . " But still am the sense of their existence. men — I far from them. " I lose nothing when I lose my life. absorbed Meanwhile the evening came he forgot the time. caught. I am truth. " there is nothing of all that whereof thou speakest: there is no devil and no hell." " Not at " thou hast made danger all. " Gloomy is thustra. arose Zarathustra and said to his heart " a fine catch of fish hath Zarathustra made in thought: so : Verily. still sat beside the dead man on the ground." . But at last it became and a cold wind blew upon the lonely one. Thy soul will be dead even sooner than thy body fear. 7 on. which the lightning out of the dark cloud man. me to hell: wilt thou prevent him? " " On mine honor. Then the people dispersed." said Zarathustra. said lie. Now thou perishest by thy calling: therefore will I bury thee with mine own hands. To men am still sense speaketh something between a fool and a corpse." answered Zarathustra. therein there is nothing contemptible. my friend. ' ' : ! ' ' thy calling. Then night. for even curiosity and terror become fatigued. ! today 11 It is not a is Sombre man he hath human life. and the market-place veiled itself in gloom. and I my not unto their sense.

he had heard too much of the hungry howling of the wolves. from this town. When he had gone on for two hours." And when he had said this. like a rob' ' — ' ' ! ber. thustra. and and dog. and. Among forests and swamps my hunger attacketh me. better thief than Zarathustra! And they laughed among themhe will eat them both selves. When — ! ' ' ' ' The good and . So he halted at a lonely house in which a light was burning. however. Often it cometh to hath failed to come and " late in the night. and put their heads together. and all where hath been? " day it : . went on through the dark streets. Zarathustra is carrying away they sorely derided him. the buffoon vanished. " " Hunger attacketh me. by so humiliating thyself thou hast saved thy life or tomorrow I today. there are too many said he. tune to be laughed at: and verily thou spakest like a buffoon. and he himself became a-hungry. he put the corpse upon his shoulders and set out on his way. however. despiser It was thy good forcall thee a danger to the multitude. shall jump over thee. Strange humors hath it my hunger. Yet had he not gone a hundred steps. town. Depart.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA 8 283 Zarathustra had said this to his heart." said Zarathustra. and call thee their enemy the believers in the orthodox belief hate thee. It was thy good fortune to associate with the dead just hate thee. Zarathustra made no answer thereto. but went on his way. when there stole a man up to and lo he that spake was him and whispered in his ear " Leave this Zarathe buffoon from the tower. a living man over a dead one. Will Zarathustra steal the bite from the devil ? Well then. here who hate thee. Zarathustra. the dead dog: a fine thing that Zarathustra hath turned a grave-digger! For our hands are too cleanly for that roast. — At the gate of the town the grave-diggers met him they : shone their torch on his face. past forests and swamps. me only after a repast. recognizing Zarathustra. good luck to the repast! If only the devil is not a he will steal them both.

tired in body. . . not dead companions and corpses. But bid thy companion eat and drink also. : — an experienced night-walker. however. amazedly he gazed into himself. like a seafarer who all at once seeth the land and he shouted for joy: for he saw a new truth." said he why I live here. which I Long . and amazedly he gazed into the forest and the stillness. must take what " Eat. At last. I shall hardly be able " That doth not concern to persuade him to eat.284 THE GERMAN CLASSICS house. trusting to the path and the light of the stars for he was I offer him. but also the morning. — — slept Zarathustra. and fare ye well! Thereafter Zarathustra again went on for two hours. And thereupon Zarathustra knocked at the door of the An old man appeared. howpassed ever. Zarathustra found himself in a thick forest. and not only the rosy dawn over his head. . Animal and man come unto me. who carried a light. He that feedeth the hungry refresheth his own ' ' ' ' : soul. and liked to look into the face of all that slept. he is wearier than thou. I forgot it during the day." said Zarathustra. but with a tranquil soul. And immediately he fell asleep. Then he arose quickly. When the morning dawned." said the old man sullenly "he that knocketh at my door old The man offered Zarathustra bread and wine. and Who cometh unto me and my bad sleep ? asked "A living man and a dead one." withdrew. He then put the dead man in a hollow tree at his head for he wanted to protect him from the wolves and laid himself down on the ground and moss. li Give me something to eat and drink. — carry with me where I will. and no path was any longer visible. his eyes opened." Zarathustra answered: " My companion is dead. And he spake thus to his heart: A light hath dawned upon me: I need companions living ones. saith wisdom. the anchorite. but came back immediately and "A bad country for " that is the hungry." me.

am not to be a herdsman. Destroyers. Zarathustra seeketh fellow-reapers and fellow-rejoicers. however. But they are the reapers and rejoicers. — : lievers in the orthodox belief. the breaker. with herds and herdsmen and corpses! And thou. the time hath arrived. but to companions! Zarathustra shall not be the herd's herdsman and hound! for that purpose have To allure many from the herd I come. is the creator. the law-breaker: Him who — — — herds or believers either. not corpses Companions. But I I part rosy dawn and rosy dawn from thee. is the creator. Fellow-creators. I am not to be a grave-digger. my first companion. : Companions. 'Twixt there came unto me a new truth. will they be called. Behold the believers of all beliefs! Whom do they hate most? Him who breaketh up their tables of values. the wolves. the creator seeketh. but they call themselves the good and Herdsmen. I say. . who will follow me because and to the place where they want to follow themselves — I will. to Companions. The people and the herd must be angry with me a robber shall Zarathustra be called by the herdsmen. breaker. and such as know how whet their sickles. Herdsmen. seeketh — those who grave new values on new Fellow^creators the creator tables. Behold the good and just! Whom do they hate most? breaketh up their tables of values. But he lacketh the hundred sickles : so he plucketh the ears of corn and is vexed. Not to the people is Zarathustra to speak. I say. but they call themselves the bejust. the law-breaker: and not the creator seeketh. however. A light hath dawned upon me. rest in peace Well have I buried thee in thy hollow tree well have I hid thee from ! . the creator seeketh. Zarathustra seeketh: what hath he to do . the he. and despisers of good and evil. he. and fellow-reapers for everything is ripe for the harvest with him.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA 285 But I need living companions.

and all the stairs : to the Superman.286 THE GERMAN CLASSICS . With the creators. are mine animals. Then he sighed and spake . Then he looked inquiringly aloft he heard above him the sharp call of a bird. " The proudest animal under the sun. To my twain-dwellers and unto him who hath . and the rejoicers will I associate the rainbow will I show them. he remembered the words of the saint in the forest. like my serpent " But I am asking the impossible. the lone-dwellers will I sing . and to the still ears for the unheard. I make for my goal. And behold An eagle swept through the air in wide circles. and the wisest animal under the sun they have come out to reconnoitre. and on it hung a serpent." said Zarathustra. — They Verily. the reapers. but like a friend: for it — ! kept itself coiled " They round the eagle 's neck. thus to his heart: "Would that I were wiser! Would that I were wise from the very heart. will I make the heart heavy with my happiness. . not like a prey. I follow my course over the loitering and tardy will I leap. Therefore do I ask to go always with my wisdom! my pride "And if my wisdom should some day forsake me alas then fly with my it loveth to fly away! may my pride " ! — : — ! folly! Thus began Zarathustra 's down-going. " want to know whether Zarathustra still liveth. do I 1 ' still live? More dangerous have I found it among men than among animals in dangerous paths goeth Zarathustra. and re- joiced in his heart. Let mine animals lead me! " When Zarathustra had said this. Thus let my on-going be their down- going ! 10 This had Zarathustra said to his heart when the sun for stood at noon-tide. Not any more will I discourse unto the people for the last time have I spoken unto the dead. song.

when laden. and Or is it this : make friends of the deaf. the strong load-bearing spirit in which reverence dwelleth: for the heavy and the heaviest longeth its strength. the camel a lion. and give one 's hand to the phantom when it is going to frighten us ? All these heaviest things the load-bearing spirit taketh upon itself : and like the camel. Many heavy things are there for the spirit. that I may take it upon me and rejoice in is What my strength. who never hear thy Or is it this To go into foul water when it : is requests? the water of truth. hasteneth into the wilderness. so hasteneth the spirit into wilderness. which. and the lion at last a child. and wanteth to be well the heaviest thing. then down like the camel. Is it not this : To humiliate one's pride? one's wisdom? To oneself in order to mortify exhibit one's folly in order to mock at it Or its is it this: triumph? tempter? To desert our cause when To ascend high mountains celebrateth to tempt the To feed on the acorns and grass of knowland for the sake of truth to suffer hunger of soul? edge. What kneeleth laden. [287] its . Or is it this: To be sick and dismiss comforters. ye heroes? asketh the loadbearing spirit. and not disclaim cold frogs and hot toads? Or is it this: To love those who despise us.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA FIRST PART I — The Three Metamorphoses : how Three metamorphoses of the spirit do I designate to you the spirit becometh a camel. is it heavy? so asketh the load-bearing spirit.

which renounceth and is reverent? To create new values that. my brethren." The values of a thousand years and thus speaketh the mightiest of glitter all values of things glitter on me. called. even the lion cannot vet My — accomplish but to create itself freedom for that can the might of the lion do. "All the — ' ' brethren. there shall be no I will any more. But the — "Thou-shalt. what the child can do. that is it may capture freedom from its love: the lion needed for this capture. there is need of the lion. for victory will it struggle with the is ' ' great dragon. and give a holy Nay even unto duty: for that. and lordship in its own wilderness. — dragons: on those scales. But tell me. freedom metamorphosis: will it capture. and on every scale glittereth golden. the right to new values that is the most formidable assumption for a load-bearing and reverent spirit. which even the lion could not do? Why hath the preying lion still to become a child? . and the work of a beast of prey. What is the great dragon which the spirit inclined to call Lord and God ? Thou-shalt." lieth in its path. unto such a spirit it is preying. ' ' no longer the great ' I will. Its last Lord it here seeketh: hostile will it be to him. and all created values do I represent. sparkling with gold scale-covered beast. it once loved "Thou-shalt": now is it forced to find illusion and arbitrariness even in the holiest things. wherefore is there need of the lion in the spirit? Why sufficeth not the beast of burden. "All values have already been created. : new creating — create itself freedom. ' is ' ' dragon " spirit of the lion saith. But and to its last God. To To assume — Verily. my brethren." Thus speaketh the dragon. Verily. As its holiest. a Thou-shalt.288 THE GERMAN CLASSICS in the loneliest wilderness happeneth the second here the spirit becometh a lion.

the camel a lion. Ten times must thou reconcile again with thyself. a first movement. No small art is it to sleep: it is necessary for that purpose to keep awake all day. and all the youths sat who before his chair. his game of creating. and be cheerful. a game. my brethren. is the night-watchman. Ten times must thou laugh during the day. II in — The Academic Chairs of Virtue People commended unto Zarathustra a wise man. a self-rolling wheel. — the Thus spake Zarathustra. Immodest. and is poppy to the soul. otherwise during the night. Three metamorphoses of the spirit have I designated to you how the spirit became a camel. a new beginning. otherwise thy stomach. and thy soul will have been hungry. To him went Zarathustra. there is Yea unto life: its own will. and forgetfulness. Vol. immodestly he carrieth his horn. and badly sleep the unreconciled.THUS SPAKE ZAKATHUSTRA Innocence is 289 the child. for overcoming is bitterness. find Ten truths must thou wilt thou seek truth during the day. for the needed a holy the spirit. and : the lion at last a child. willeth now own world winneth the world's outcast. however. Ten times a day must thou overcome thyself: that the first thing ! : causeth wholesome weariness. as one could discourse well about sleep and virtue: greatly was he honored and rewarded for it. will disturb thee in the night. XV — 19 . and sat among the youths before his chair. Aye. the father of affliction. And thus spake the wise man : Respect and modesty in presence *of sleep! That is And to go out of the way of all who sleep badly and keep awake at night! Modest is even the thief in presence of sleep he always stealeth softly through the night. And at that time he abode town which is called The Pied Cow. a holy Yea.

I ask myself: What were thy ten overcomings? And what were the ten reconciliations. Thus passeth the day unto the virtuous. also. even if one have all the virtues. to them. peace also with thy neighbor's devil! Otherwise it will haunt thee in the night. then take I good care not to summon liketh to be When night It dis- summoned — sleep. And about thee. itself? . there is still one I thing needful: to send the virtues themselves to sleep at the right time. and also to the crooked government! So desireth good sleep. cometh. do the poor in spirit please me they promote Blessed are they. especially if one always give in sleep. nor great treasures: they But it is bad sleeping without a good is name and a little treasure. shall me the best shepherd so doth it accord with : Many honors excite the spleen. and obedience. but one must have all the virtues in order to sleep well. patient as a cow. and the ten truths. always be for leadeth his sheep to the greenest pasture. the lord of the virtues! I think of what I have done and thought during the Thus ruminating. and the ten laughters* with which my heart enjoyed But day. That they females! may not quarrel with one another. sleep. Honor to the government. : than a bad one So doth it : Well.290 THE GERMAN CLASSICS people Few I know it. A small company more welcome to me but they must come and go at the right time. thou unhappy one! : the good Peace with God and thy neighbor so desireth good sleep. How can I help it. if power likes to walk on crooked legs ? And He who good sleep. Shall I bear false witness? Shall commit adultery? Shall ill would And covet my neighbor's maidservant? All that accord with good sleep. accord with good sleep. I want not.

and it turneth heavy. this would be the desirablest nonsense for me also. . And not much longer do they stand: there they already lie. the lord — of the virtues. And not in vain did the youths sit before the preacher of virtue. if life had no sense. Verily. Blessed are those drowsy ones: for they shall soon nod to sleep. wis- dom was sleep without nificance of life. Now know else when it! I well what people sought formerly above all they sought teachers of virtue. Sleep tappeth on mine eye. to be sure. And thus spake he to his heart fool seemeth this wise man with his forty thoughts: but I believe he knoweth well how to sleep. on soft soles doth it come to me. Even is dreams: they knew no higher sig- at present. Happy even is he who liveth near this wise man! Such even through a thick wall it is sleep is contagious : — : : A — contagious. and poppyhead virtues to pro- mote To all those belauded sages of the academic chairs. and not always so honorable but their : time past. he laughed in his heart for thereby had a light dawned upon him. Good sleep they sought for themselves. and cradled by forty thoughts. the dearest of thieves. When Zarathustra heard the wise man thus speak. there are some like this preacher of virtue.THUS SPAKE ZAEATHUSTRA taketh 291 Thus pondering. and had I to choose nonsense. And verily. the unsummoned. A magic resideth even in his academic chair. — Thus spake Zarathustra. and it remaineth open. it overme all at once sleep. His wisdom is to keep awake in order to sleep well. But not much longer do I then stand I already lie. and stealeth from me my thoughts: stupid do I then stand. Sleep toucheth my mouth. like this academic chair.

292 THE GERMAN CLASSICS III — Backworldsmen Once on a time. the eternally imperfect. And verily. I carried mine own ashes I surpassed myself. colored vapors before the eyes of a divinely — — dissatisfied one. the to the mountain. did the world then seem to me. Beyond man. an eternal contradiction's image and imperfect image an intoxicating joy to its imperfect creator: thus did the world once seem Intoxicating joy — — to me. ego. like all backworldsmen. — greatest sufferer experienceth. Intoxicating joy and selfforgetting. ye brethren. The work of a suffering and tortured God. This world. and I and thou colored vapors did they seem to me before creative eyes. like all backworldsmen. did the world then seem to me. once on a time. that created all backSuffering was it. did I also cast my fancy beyond man. like all the Gods man was he. And lo! There- upon the phantom withdrew from me! To me the convalescent would it now be suffering and torment to believe in such phantoms: suffering would it now be to me. and joy and woe. my brethren? suffering one. did the world once seem to me. Good and evil. his suffering is it for the sufferer to look away from and forget himself. Thus speak I to backworldsmen. . which only the worlds. a brighter flame I contrived for myself. Zarathustra also cast his fancy beyond man. and humiliation. that God whom I created was human work and human madness. that phantom. forsooth? Ah. The dream and diction of a God. and only a poor fragment of a man and Out of mine own ashes and glow it came unto me. Thus. it came not unto me from the ! A beyond ! What happened. The creator wished to look away from himself thereupon — — he created the world. and impotence and the short madness of happiness.

things best proved? Verily. ye brethren. Believe me. But that ' i other world ' ' that . inhuman world. is not the strangest of all speak. but to carry it freely. and that teach I unto men: no longer to thrust one's head into the sand of celestial things. the ego. and body — like the sick and perishing ! . to prove all being. even when it museth and raveth and fluttereth with broken wings. and invented the heavenly world. willing even to will any longer that created all Gods backworlds. and to approve of it and no ! — longer to slink aside from it. A new pride taught me mine ego. and hard to make Tell me. the more doth it find titles and — — honors for the body and the earth." is well concealed from man. a poor ignorant weariness. it is difficult it Yea. and the more it learneth. this creating. with its contradiction and perplexity. willspeaketh most uprightly of its being which is the measure and value of things. Always more uprightly learneth it to speak.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA Weariness. And this most upright existence. ing. evaluing ego. and still implieth the body. the ego it speaketh of the body. except as man. my brethren! it heard the bowels of existence of the earth despaired — speaking unto it. And then it sought to get through the ultimate walls with into "the other and not with its head only its head — — world. It was the body which Believe me. which seeketh to get to the ultimate with leap. naught and the bowels of existence do not speak unto man. which is a celestial dehumanized. a terrestrial head. which giveth meaning to the earth A new will teach I unto men: to choose that path which man hath followed blindly. it was they who despised the The sick and perishing and the earth. with a death-leap. this ego. my brethren! It was the body which it groped with the fingers of spaired of the body : 293 one un- and de- — the infatuated spirit at the ultimate walls.

and the stars that were too remote for them. violently they hate the discerning uprightness. indeed. Then they sighed: " there were heavenly paths by which to steal into another Then they contrived for existence and into happiness! themselves their by-paths and bloody draughts Beyond the sphere of their body and this earth they now fancied themselves transported. I know what they themselves most believe in. also. he is not modes of consolation and ingratitude. Raving of the reason was likeness to God. lieu ken rather. ones. but sickness and a sick frame remain even in his tears. Too well. and at midnight stealeth round the grave of his God. . my brethren.294 THE GERMAN CLASSICS ! the redeeming blood-drops. and themselves preach backworlds. and create indignant at their higher bodies for themselves! Neither is Zarathustra indignant at a convalescent who looketh tenderly on his delusions. and gladly would they get out of their skin. were delusion and faith something different. Verily. May they become convalescents and overcomers. and their own body is for them the thing-in-itself. these ungrateful ones. which is Backward they always gaze toward dark ages: being believed those godlike ones: they insist on and that doubt is sin. More uprightly and purely speaketh the healthy body. and languish for God. not in backworlds and redeeming blood-drops: but in the body do they also believe most. But it is a sickly thing to them. but even those sweet and sad poisons they borrowed from the body and the earth From their misery they sought escape. do in. Verily. Therefore hearken they to the preachers Too well do I know of death. and the latest of virtues. to the voice of the healthy body. then. ! Gentle is Zarathustra to the sickly. Many sickly ones have there always been among those who muse. But to what did they owe the convulsion and rapture of their transport? To their body and this earth. and doubt was sin. it is a more upright and pure voice.



a An instrument of thy body my brother. and art proud of that word. and is also the ego's ruler. nor teach anew. spirit. " a little instruspirit — ment and plaything of thy big sagacity* " Ego. and of the earth. but only to bid farewell to their own bodies. I to learn afresh. is it is . 295 — it speaketh of the meaning Thus spake Zarathustra. a plurality with one war and a peace. — my brother. called it there Self. a flock and a shepherd. which thou callest the greater thing is is ' ' also thy little sagacity. and seeketh. Ever hearkeneth the it compareth. child. thy body with its big sagacity it saith not doeth it. Instruments and playthings are sense and spirit: behind them there is still the Self. conquereth. ' ' — in which thou art unwilling to believe — ' ' But but ego. The body is a big sagacity. Self. the knowing one. an unknown sage dwelleth in thy body. it is thy body. what the spirit discerneth. It mastereth. Behind thy thoughts and feelings. and destroyeth. it hearkeneth also with the ears of the . But sense and spirit would fain persuade thee that they are the end of all things: so vain are they.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA perfect and square-built. The Self seeketh with the eyes of the senses. ruleth." sayest thou. a mighty lord. IV To — The Despisers of the Body wish them neither the despisers of the body will I speak my word. — and thus be dumb. What the sense feeleth. saith Body entirely. and soul " — so saith the . and nothing more and soul is only the name ' ' of something in the body. ' ' Body am the I. sense. hath never its end in itself. And why ' ' : should one not speak like children? But am I awakened one.

and thinketh how it may ofttimes rejoice upon and for that very purpose it is meant to think. it created for itself joy and woe.296 THE GERMAN CLASSICS There is more sagacity in thy body than in thy best wisdom. and turneth away from life. and thinketh how it may put an end thereto and for that very purpose it is meant to think. That they despise is caused by their esteem. To the despisers of the body will I speak a word." — The Self saith unto the ego Feel pain And thereupon it suffereth. ye despisers of the body. and its proud prancings. No longer can your Self do that which it desireth most create beyond itself. are these prancings and nights of thought unto " it saith to itself. ye despisers of the body. What is it that created esteeming and despising and worth and will? The creating Self created for itself esteeming and deThe creating spising. . For ye can no longer create beyond yourselves. — and therefore have ye become despisers of the body. And therefore are ye now angry with life and with the earth. The Self saith unto the ego Feel pleasure Thereit rejoiceth. created for itself spirit. as a hand to its will. And who then knoweth why thy body requireth just thv best wisdom? Thy 11 What me? Self laugheth at thine ego. And unconscious envy is in the sidelong look of your contempt. wanteth to die. I go not your way. That is what it desireth most that : . by-way to my purpose. To succumb so wisheth your Self. ye despisers of the body bridges for me to the Superman! — ! Ye are no Thus spake Zarathustra. body Even in your folly and despising ye each serve your ' ' : ! — ' ' ' ' : ! — I tell you. is all its fervor. and the prompter of ' ' its notions. your very Self Self. is But it now too late to do so: — so your Self wisheth to succumb. I am "A the leading-string of the ego.

and hast become one of the people and the herd ! with thy virtue! Ineffable is it. or the vindictive . is my " Not as the law of a God do I desire it. But that bird built and cherish it now 1 ' — its nest beside sitteth it beside me therefore. and devils angels." Thus shouldst thou stammer. and it is thine own common with no one. virtue. or of the voluptuous. and also the hunger of my bowels. thou wouldst call it by name and caress it. it " That please me good. And though All thy passions in the end became virtues. and if thou must speak of it. Better for thee to say that which is pain and sweetness to my soul. and nameless. and praise thy virtue. or of the fanatical.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA V — Joys My brother. Thou implantedst thy highest aim into the heart passions then became they thy virtues and joys. : thou wert of the race of the hot-tempered. But now hast thou only thy virtues : they grew out of thy of those passions. at last into birds all thy Once hadst thou wild dogs in thy cellar: but they changed and charming songstresses. thus doth desire the good. Thus speak and stammer: I love. . I love me on its golden : eggs. that do thus only do I entirely. thou hast it To be sure. "An earthly virtue is it which I love: little prudence is therein." Let thy virtue be too high for the familiarity of names. Once hadst thou passions and calledst them evil. . be not ashamed to stammer ' ' : about it.> thou wouldst pull its ears and amuse thyself with it. not as a human law or a human need do I desire it it is not to be a guidepost for me to superearths and paradises. and the least everyday wisdom. And lo Then hast thou its name in common with the people. when in 297 and Passions thou hast a virtue.

are war and battle evil ? Necessary. because he was weary of being the battle and battle: And . field of virtues. Illustrious is it to have many virtues. 1 brother. affliction. like Ah! the flame of jealousy encompasseth. " Mine something which is ego is to me the great contempt of to be surpassed: mine man: " so speaketh it out of that eye. my brother. ye judges and sacrificers. something that hath to be surpassed : and there- fore shalt thou love thy virtues. My brother. then wilt thou have one virtue and no more thus goest thou easier over the bridge. unless it be the evil that groweth out of the conflict of thy virtues. however. My Lo how each ! of thy virtues is covetous of the highest place. if thou be fortunate. but a hard lot and many a one hath gone into the wilderness and killed himself. VI — The Pale Criminal the animal hath Ye do not mean to slay. He whom last. it wanteth thy whole power. until bowed its head? Lo! the pale criminal hath bowed his head: out of his eye speaketh the great ego is contempt. it wanteth thy whole spirit to be its herald. the poisoned sting against himself.298 THE GERMAN CLASSICS Out of thy poisons brewedst thou balsam for thyself. is the evil. for thou wilt succumb by Thus spake Zarathustra. milkedst thou sweet milk of her udder. hatred. turneth at the scorpion. Jealous is every virtue of the others. and love. Even virtues may succumb by jealousy. in wrath. When he judged himself — that was his supreme mo- . and a dreadful thing is jealousy. — nothing evil groweth in thee any longer. necessary are the envy and the distrust and the backbiting among the virtues. hast thou never seen a virtue backbite itself? is and stab Man them. now drinketh thou the thy cow.

call this: the exception reversed itself to the The streak I call this. ! " " " Enemy shall ye say but not villain. see to it that ye yourselves justify life It is not enough that ye should reconcile with him whom ye slay. of chalk bewitcheth the hen. " wishest thou Or at least. An idea made this pale man pale. and " What matter about blood! " it it persuaded him. however. Ah! ye have not gone deep is ' ' : enough Thus speaketh the red judge Why did this criminal He meant to rob. red judge. estate ! 299 let not the exalted one relapse again into his low There is no salvation for him who thus suffereth from it be speedy death. Adequate was he for his deed when he did it. I rule in him. ye judges ! There and it is before the deed." I tell you. another thing is the deed. Madness. but the ide^ of it he could not endure when it was done. the stroke he struck bewitched his weak reason. unless Your ." not And thou. not booty: he thirsted for the happiness of the knife! But his weak reason understood not this madness. and another thing is the idea of the deed. Hearken.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA ment. Madness after the deed." invalid " " fool shall ye say but shall ye say but not wretch. " sinner. ye judges. take revenge? " into this soul! . Evermore did he now see himself as the doer of one deed. to make booty thereby"? not. slaying. commit murder? that his soul wanted blood. Let your sorrow be love to the Superman: thus himself. if thou would say audibly all thou " " ' ' will ye justify your own survival ! ' ' hast done in thought. another madness besides. and not revenge and in that ye slay. shall be pity. said. The wheel of causality doth not roll between them. then would every one cry: "Away " with the nastiness and the virulent reptile! But one thing is the thought.

there they want to get its And — their prey. Could he only shake his head. however. and once more is his weak reason so benumbed. whoever is able to grasp me may grasp me ! Your crutch. Thus spake Zarathustra. What is this man? A coil of seldom at peace among themselves and seek prey in the world. then would his burden roll off. and another evil and good. He did not mean to be ashamed of his madness. But what doth it matter to me about . I would that their madness were called truth. but who shake th that head? What is this man? A mass of diseases that reach out into the world through the spirit. Once was doubt evil. it interpreted it as the poor soul interpreted to itself murderous desire. so paralyzed. and so dull. And now once more lieth the lead of his guilt upon him. . things in your good people cause me disgust. your good people! Many verily. and eagerness for the happiness of the — knife. not their evil. But this will not enter your ears.300 THE GERMAN CLASSICS he hearkened unto his weak reason: like lead lay words upon him thereupon he robbed when he murdered. and sought to cause suffering. Then the invalid became a heretic or sorcerer as heretic or sorcerer he suffered. or justice: but they have their virtue in order to live long. or fidelity. it hurteth your good people. Him who now now turneth sick. and I would that they had a madness by which they succumbed. But there have been other ages. I am a railing alongside the torrent. I am not. and in wretched self-complacency. the evil overtaketh which is the evil: he seeketh to cause pain with that which causeth him pain. ye tell me. serpents — so they go forth apart wild that are Look at that poor body! What it suffered and craved. like this pale criminal! Verily. and the will to Self.

the very cloud which I see beneath me. coercive dom wisheth us. doeth nothing more for the and spirit itself Another century of readers — Every one being allowed the long run to learn to read. Who among you can at the same time laugh and be exalted? He who all climbeth on the highest mountains. and ever loveth only a — warrior. I want to have goblins about me. Once spirit was God." But for what pur- . for I am courageous. Write with blood. the reading idlers. Proverbs should be peaks. will stink. In the mountains the shortest way is from peak to peak. and thou wilt find that blood is spirit. the blackness and heaviness at that is your thundercloud. but for that route thou must have long legs. she is a woman. ruineth in not only writing but also thinking. " Life is hard to bear. danger near and the spirit full of a joyful wickedness: thus are things well matched. but learnt by heart. goblins I no longer feel in common with you. He that writeth in blood and proverbs doth not want to be read. and I look downward because I am exalted. that is It is no easy task to understand unfamiliar blood I hate . the reader. laugheth at tragic plays and tragic realities. so wisCourageous.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA VII Of all 301 — Reading and Writing written. He who knoweth reader. and now it even becometh populace. The courage which scareth away ghosts. scornful. Ye tell me. unconcerned. I love only what a person hath written with his blood. and those spoken to should be big and tall. The atmosphere rare and pure. which I laugh — — Ye look aloft when ye long for exaltation. createth for itself it wanteth to laugh. then it became man.

always. them amongst seem flit To see these light. who appreciate is like life. and us. since then have I let myself run. lively little sprites about that moveth Zarathustra to tears and songs. thustra thereupon laid hold of the tree beside which the youth sat. not because we are wont to live. Now am I light. I found him serious. learned to fly since then I do not need pushing in order to . Not by wrath. do we ! slay. Thus spake Zarathustra. soap-bubbles.302 THE GERMAN CLASSICS pose should ye have your pride in the morning and your resignation in the evening? Life is hard to bear but do not affect to be so delicate We are all of us fine sumpter asses and assesses. some method in madness. the butterflies. also. and whatever most to enjoy happiness. foolish. through — And when — him all things fall. move from a spot. I should only believe in a God that would know how to dance. solemn: he was the spirit of gravity profound. always some madness in love. I saw my devil. And as he walked alone one evening over the hills surrounding the town called "The Pied Cow. but by laughter. now do I fly now do I see myself. but because we are wont to love. let us slay the spirit of gravity I I learned to walk. pretty. Come.m<l gazing with wearied look into the valley. Now there danceth a God in me. thorough." behold. is There But there is And to me also. . : ! What have we in common with the rose-bud. which trembleth because a drop of dew hath formed upon it? It is true we love life. there found he the youth sitting leaning against a Zaratr<'<'. . and spake thus: . VIII myself under — The Tree on the Hill Zarathustra 's eye had perceived that a certain youth avoided him.

the more vigorously do his roots struggle earthward. the more do I despise him who clambereth." ward. " The more he seeketh to rise into the height and light. " are sorest bent and troubled by invis: "I Thereupon the youth arose disconcerted. I should not be able to do it But the wind. none of the steps pardon me. and said hear Zarathustra. flieth ! How tired I am ' ' ! : . how doth that happen? " I change too quickly: my today refuteth my yesterday. downinto the evil. I find myself always alone. the higher I clamber." " cried the Yea. I trust myself no ' ' ' ' ' ' ! ' ' ! longer since I sought to rise into the height. and spake thus " This tree standeth lonely here on the hills. What doth he seek on the height? " How ashamed I am of my clambering and stumbling! How I mock at my violent panting! How I hate him who "My on the height Here the youth was silent. which we it listeth. Zarathustra. speaketh What do I seek on the height? ' ' . and nobody trusteth me any longer. 11 Thou saidst the truth. No one aloft. it hath grown up high above man and beast. into the evil that thou hast discovered my soul? " possible Zarathustra smiled. and just now was I thinking of him Zarathustra answered But it is "Why art thou frightened on that account ? the same with man as with the tree. unto me the frost of solitude maketh me tremble. see not. into the dark and deep ' ' ! : 1 ' — — cried the youth. And Zarathustra contemplated the tree beside which they stood. When contempt and my longing increase together. for so doing. How is it Yea. unless one first invent it. into the evil youth once more. my hands. I often overleap the steps when I clamber. trouble th and bendeth as We ible hands. and said: " Many a soul one will never discover.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA " 1 ' 303 If I wished to shake this tree with so.

and led the youth — away with him. but also deceitful and wicked. My amongst us? It is mine envy of thee that hath destroyed me! " Thus spake the youth. and thou art the lightning for which I waited! Lo! what have I been since thou hast appeared the truth. Zarathustra. — — To purify himself. As vet thou art not free. Too unslept hath thy seeking made thee. however. and noble others also feel thee still. for the stars thirsteth thy soul. Yea. it would have none who could understand it: so high hath it grown. Thy wild dogs want liberty.304 THE GERMAN CLASSICS if it "And 11 wanted to speak. thou seekest freedom. thou speakest ' ' : destruction I longed for. put his arm about him. is still necessary for the freedman of the spirit. : Better than thy words express still it. that to everybody a noble one evil looks. it waiteth Now it — M perhaps for the first lightning? When Zarathustra had said this. On the open height wouldst thou be. . Much of the prison and the mold still remaineth in him: pure hath his eye still to become. I know thy danger. Btandeth in the way. they bark for joy in their cellar when thy spirit endeavoreth to open all prison doors. who deit seemeth to me Still art thou a prisoner ah! sharp becometh the soul of viseth liberty for himself: such prisoners. waiteth and waiteth for what doth it wait? It dwelleth too close to the seat of the clouds. Zarathustra to speak thus rendeth my heart. thine eyes tell me all thy danger. But thy bad impulses also thirst for freedom. But by my love and hope I conjure thee: cast not thy love and hope away! Noble thou feelest thyself still. and too wakeful. though they bear thee a grudge and cast Know this. Zarathustra. the youth called out with violent gestures Yea. when I desired to be on the height. and wept bitterly. And when they had walked a while began It together.

Then Spirit is also voluptuousness. would the noble man create. and said they. old should be it is not the danger of the noble man to turn a good but lest he should become a blusterer. or ' ' you in other colors besides. The new." broke the wings of their spirit and now it creepeth about. and defileth where it gnaweth. but sensualists are they now. a noble one standeth in even when they call him a good man. XV — 20 . But by my love and hope I conjure thee cast not away the hero in thy soul Maintain holy ihy highest hope . ! highest hope. : — ! ! Thus spake Zarathustra. IX — The Preachers those to of Death is full There are preachers of death: and the earth of whom Full is must be preached. Once they thought of becoming heroes. Then beyond " lived they shamelessly in temporary pleasures. the day had hardly an aim.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA Also to the good. have not yet become men. A trouble and a terror is the hero to them. wanteth the good man. life eternal by the l ' ' ' May ' ' ! they be decoyed out of this life " The yellow ones:" so are called the preachers of the black ones. and The old. Ah I have known noble ones who lost their And then they disparaged all high hopes. and pass away themselves or self -laceration. or a man. and that the conserved. But I will show them unto death. There are the terrible ones who carry about in themselves the beast of prey. : ! Vol. marred is life by desistance life from the many-too-many. the earth of the superfluous. they to put him aside. the 305 way: and want thereby a new virtue. a scoffer. and have no choice except lusts And even their lusts are self -laceration. But destroyer. those terrible ones may They they preach desistance from life.

what I have! Take what I am! So much less doth life bind me Were they consistently pitiful. still give birth ? One beareth only the unfortunate! " And Lust is sin. which seeth only one aspect of existence. and their eye. and eager for the little casualties that bring death: thus do they wait. and lie not. or a corpse ' ' — and Life is refuted immediately they say But they only are refuted. and we should approve of their Let us beware of awakening those dead ones. what care they if they bind others still faster with their chains and gifts! — . " Take Pity is necessary. To be wicked — ' ' ! — their true goodness. But they want to be rid of life. " " so saith a third party. They would fain be dead. and wish ! of damaging those living coffins! They meet an invalid. and Or else.306 THE GERMAN CLASSICS There are the spiritually consumptive ones: hardly are they born when they begin to die. then would they make that would be their neighbors sick of life. or an old man. and long for doctrines of lassitude and renunciation. : ! ' ' in thick melancholy. and mock at their childishness thereby: they cling to their straw of life. Their wisdom speaketh thus alive. that the life ceaseth ' ' which is And ' ' let this only suffering! be the teaching of your virtue ! : Thou ' ' ! shalt slay thyself "let say some who preach death " us go apart and beget no children! why say others Giving birth is troublesome. but so far are we fools! thing in Life 1 ' "A fool. and clench Shrouded their teeth. mock at their still clinging to : it. " — so Thou shalt steal away from thyself 1 ' ' ' — — — — ' ' they also are preachers of death. they grasp at sweetmeats. he who remaineth And that is the foolishest life is ' ' ! only suffering Then see to it that ye cease : " so say ! See to it others.

could I but see one calleth what they Uniform uniform what they therewith hide! Ye shall be those whose eyes ever seek for an enemy for your enemy. nor those either whom we love from the very heart. be preached. Then be great enough not to be ashamed of them! know And if ye cannot be saints of knowledge. So let by me tell you the truth! My brethren in war! I love you from the very heart. They are the companions and forerunners of such saintship. If ye believed more in selves less to the — ! . be at least I see 1 ' warriors. Or ' ' life eternal " . then. are ye not very tired of life? Are ye not very ripe for the sermon of death? All ye to whom rough labor is dear. and the rapid. X — War By and Warriors our best enemies we do not want to be spared. So let me tell you the truth! I am also your the hatred and envy of your hearts. your counterpart. to whom life is rough labor and disquiet. And I best enemy. Ye are not great enough not to know of hatred and envy. dili- life.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA 307 And ye also. But for waiting. ye have nor even for idling not enough of capacity in you the voice of those who preach Everywhere resoundeth death and the earth is full of those to whom death hath to gence is flight. and strange — ye put up with yourselves badly. and was ever. . I pray its you. And with some of you there is hatred . it is all the same to me — if only they pass away quickly! Thus spake Zarathustra. new. then would ye devote yourmomentary. many wear may warriors it not be ! — at first sight. I am. many ' ' soldiers . your and the will to self-forgetfulness.

Ye are ashamed of your flow. but not enemies to be despised. take the sublime about you. War and charity. To be brave is is good. the mantle of the ugly! And when your soul becometh great. Ye must be proud — . enemies are also your successes. then. the successes of of your enemies." They call you heartless: but your heart little girls and is true. Let the at the To be good is what say same time touching. your war shall ye wage. my brethren. and others are ashamed of their ebb. But they misunderstand one another. I know you. but to fight. ' ' courage have done more great things than your bravery hath hith- What is good !" ye ' * : ask. your peace be a victory! Let your work be a One can only be silent and sit peacefully when one hath arrow and bow. Let your commanding itself be obeying. In wickedness the haughty man and the weakling meet. and for the sake of your thoughts! And if your thoughts succumb. You I advise not to work. otherwise one prateth and quarreleth. let short peace more than the long. Ye are ugly? Well then. Not your sympathy. but erto saved the victims. You not to peace. Let your peace be a victory Ye say it is the good cause which hallo weth even war? I say unto you it is the good war which halloweth every ! : cause. and in your sublimity there is wickedness. and I love the bashfulness of your goodwill. Ye shall only have enemies to be hated. pretty. your Let that is the distinction of the slave. but to victory. I know you.308 THE GERMAN CLASSICS shall ye seek. your uprightness shall still shout triumph thereby ! Your enemy Ye shall love peace as a means to new wars — and the I advise fight. Resistance your distinction be obedience. then doth it become haughty.

It is am ! the people. This sign I give unto you: every people speaketh its language of good and evil this its neighbor understandeth not. hung Destroyers. however. are they who lay snares for many." Creators were they who created peoples. Let your love to life be love to your highest hope. . ye shall first have it commanded unto you. and customs. — The New Idol Somewhere there are A my now still peoples and herds. Coldly lieth it also and this lie creepeth from its mouth "I. but not brethren: here there are states. and call a lie it the state: they hang a sword and a hundred cravings over them. and as sin against laws stood. ye shall have it commanded unto you by me and it is this man is something — : that is to be surpassed. state. for will I say unto you my word concerning the death of peoples. state f What is that ? Well open now your ears unto ! me. is called the coldest of all cold monsters. my brethren in war ! Thus spake Zarathustra. and a faith and a love over them: thus they served life. : A the state. and let your highest hope be the highest thought of life! Your highest thought.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA To ' ' ' ' 309 the good warrior soundeth thou shalt pleasanter than " I will. : Where . there is still a people. there the state is not underbut hated as the evil eye." And all that is dear unto you. I love you from my very heart. So live your life of obedience and of war ! What matter about long life! What warrior wisheth to be spared! I spare you not. XI with us. Its language hath it devised for itself in laws and customs.

a death-horse jingling with the trappings of divine honors! Yea. the good and the bad: the state.310 THE GERMAN CLASSICS . and the glance of your proud eyes. where all lose themselves. the many-too-many! it swalloweth and cheweth and recheweth them! On earth there is nothing greater than I: it is I who am the regulating finger of God" thus roareth the monster. which glorifieth itself as life: verily. the many-too-many Yea. indicateth this sign Verily. Verily. it biteth. it whispereth its gloomy lies! Ah! it findeth out the rich hearts which willingly lavish themselves How ' ' — ! ! ! Yea. it beckoneth unto the preachers of death! Many too many are born: for the superfluous ones was ! the state devised! See just how it enticeth them to it. and whatever it hath it hath stolen. a hearty service unto all ! preachers of death ! where all are poison-drinkers. you out too. idol: thus — the Gladly cold monster! ! it basketh in the sunshine of Everything will it give you. and now your weariness serveth the new idol! it findeth ! Heroes and honorable ones. the will to death. everything in it with stolen teeth False are even its bowels. I call it. . it. It seeketh to allure by means of you. And not only the long-eared and short-sighted fall upon their knees Ah even in your ears. But the state lieth in all languages of good and evil and whatever it saith it lieth. a dying for many hath here been devised. . if ye worship it. ye great souls. the Confusion of language of good and evil this sign I give unto you as the sign of the state. ye conquerors of the old God Weary ye became of the conflict. it would fain set up around good the new idol consciences. False is biting one. a hellish artifice hath here been devised. the new it purchaseth the lustre of your virtue. the state. The .

. — on the throne — and ofttimes also the throne on all Ofttimes sitteth filth Madmen : they seem all too eager. above ones! all. and smelleth their idol to me. the lever of power.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA good and the bad the : 311 all state. and cannot even digest themselves. Empty are still many sites for lone ones and twain ones. where the slow suicide of — is called ''life. Power they much money for. where the state ceaseth the man who is not superfluous there commenceth the song : — of the necessary ones. Badly monster badly they to me. and thus scuffle into the mud and the abyss. he who possesseth little is so much the less possessed: blessed be moderate poverty! Open still there only commenceth There. will appetites air! ! smell to me. call their theft they — and everything becometh sickness and trouble unto them! Just see these superfluous ones! Sick are they always. They devour one another. they vomit their bile and call it a newspaper. Open still remaineth a free life for great souls. Just see these superfluous ones! Wealth they acquire and become poorer thereby. ancl clambering apes. — these impotent seek and See them clamber. ye suffocate in the fumes of their maws and into the Better break the windows and of the jump open Do go out of the way bad odor ! Withdraw from Withdraw from the idolatry of the superfluous! Do go out of the way of the bad odor! the steam of these human sacrifices! remaineth the earth for great souls. around which floateth the odor of tranquil seas. Culture. the single and irreplaceable melody. these nimble apes! They clamber over one another. the cold My brethren. Verily. Toward as if the throne they all strive happiness sat on the throne! : it is their madness filth." of the inventors Just see these superfluous ones! They steal the works and the treasures of the wise. these idolaters.

— invisibly He But they have a taste for all representers and actors of great things. A truth which only glideth into fine ears. and changeable humors. into thy solitude! I see thee deafened with the noise of the great men.312 THE GERMAN CLASSICS There. my brethren! Do you not see it. but little conscience of the spirit. Around the devisers of new values revolveth the world: it revolveth. where the state ceaseth pray look thither. Where and flies. XII — The Flies in the Market-Place Flee. To upset that meaneth witli him to prove. most strongly still believeth always in that wherewitli he in himself! — maketh believe after. solitude endeth. the creating agency. and the day Sharp perceptions hath he. and the buzzing of the poison- In the world even the best things are worthless without those who represent them: those representers. belief. Resemble again the tree which thou lovest. the broadbranched one silently and attentively it o'erhangeth the — sea. there beginneth also . mad And blood is — — counted by him as the best of all arguments. there beginneth the market-place where the market-place beginneth. Little do the people understand what is great that is — to say. and stung all over with my the stings of the little ones. Tomorrow he hath a new newer. Spirit. the people call great men. : But around the actors revolve the people and the glory such is the course of things. the rainbow and the bridges of the — Superman? Thus spake Zarathustra. the noise of the great actors. friend. hath the actor. Admirably do forest and rock know how to be silent with thee. one like the people. To drive that meaneth with him to convince. he calleth false- .

into thy solitude: I see thee stung all fame have ever dwelt the devisers of new Flee. Away from all that is and from fame taketh place from the market-place and from great: away the market-place values. blood . ! account of those abrupt ones. and torn at a hundred spots. by poisonous flies. the ruin. Thou art not stone but already hast thou become hollow by the numerous drops. Innumerable are the small and pitiable ones.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA hood and trumpery. bleeding I see thee. and thy pride will not even upbraid. And from thee they want Yea or Nay. so they press thee. strong breeze bloweth! Thou hast lived too closely to Flee into thy solitude! Flee from their invisible venthe small and the pitiable. also These are for them the But the hour presseth them. rain-drops and weeds have been they. geance Innumerable are Raise no longer an arm against them ! ! and it is not thy lot to be a fly-flap. he believeth only in Gods that make a great noise in the world and the Full of clattering buffoons is the market-place. return into thy security in the market-place is one assailed by Yea? or Nay? only Slow is the experience of all deep fountains: long have they to wait until they know what hath fallen into their : On depths. where a rough. Blood they would have from thee in all innocence . Toward thee they have nothing but vengeance. Exhausted I see thee. . friend. Flee thither. and of many a proud structure. Alas thou wouldst set thy chair betwixt For and Against? On account of those absolute and impatient ones. be not Never yet did truth cling jealous. 313 Verily. thou lover of truth! to the arm of an absolute one. Thou wilt yet break and burst by the numerous drops. ! — people glory in their great men! masters of the hour. my over by the poisonous flies.

and whimperers. Because thou art gentle and of upright character. What we recognize in a man. and ere thou hadst recovered. innocence. But thou. also. is their praise. therefore. the same poison-worm crawled over thy hand. we also irritate in him. thou — They pardon thee Blameless are they for their small existence. in their inmost hearts only for thine errors. and nothing more. they whimper before thee. Too proud art thou to kill these sweet-tooths. ! is They punish thee for all thy virtues. . Sawest thou not how often they became dumb when thou .314 THE GERMAN CLASSICS their bloodless souls crave for in all — and they sting. always counter to their taste. But take care lest it be thy fate to suffer all their poisonous injustice They buzz around thee also with their praise obtrusiveness. They want to be close to thy skin ! : and thy blood." Even when thou art gentle toward them. They natter thee. as one flattereth a God or devil. do they show themselves to thee as amiable ones. But their circumscribed souls think: " Blamable is all ' ' ' ' sayest : great existence. thou sufferest too profoundly even from small wounds. as before a God or devil. But that hath ever been the prudence of the cowardly. Therefore be on your guard against the small ones! In thy presence they feel themselves small. Yea ! They souls — thou think the cowardly are wise much about thee with their circumscribed ! much thought about art always suspected by them Whatever is at last thought suspicious. they still feel themselves despised by thee and they repay thy beneficence with secret maleficence. Often. and their baseness gleameth and gloweth against thee in invisible Thy silent pride is rejoice if once thou be vengeance. they humble enough to be frivolous. What doth it come to! Flatterers are they. profound one.

It is not lot to Thus spake Zarathustra. the bad conscience art thou of thy neighbors for they are unworthy of thee. Even when Ye I am a piece of flesh is denied it love tragedies and all that breaketh the heart? distrustful of your doggish lust. and would fain suck thy blood. into thy solitude — and thither. my friend. and how their energy 1 315 left them like the smoke of an extinguishing fire ? Yea. and alas! in it ! if their hath still spirit that ye were perfect at least as animals to animals belongeth innocence. with its discord. to be sure but doggish lust looketh enviously out of all that they do. thee. It is — Chastity bad to live in cities : there. These are continent. but with many almost a vice. will great in thee — that Thy neighbors always be poisonous flies. and always more Flee. not better to fall into the hands of a murderer. fly-flap. XIII I love the forest. thy where be a a rough strong breeze bloweth. at the — bottom of their souls. fly-like. what is itself must make them more poisonous. than into the dreams of a lustful woman? And Filth filth know nothing is just look at these men: their eye saith it they better on earth than to lie with a woman.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA approachedst them. : spirit into the heights of their virtue and into their cold doth this creature follow them. there are too Is it many of the lustful. Therefore they hate . And how nicely can doggish lust beg for a piece of spirit. Would — ! But Do I counsel you to slay your instincts? I counsel you to innocence in your instincts. Do I counsel you to chastity? Chastity is a virtue with some. my friend. ! But .

anchorite. Is chastity not folly? and ask What is chastity? But the folly came unto us. Verily. if there were not a friend? is The friend of the anchorite third one is always the third one : the the cork which preventeth the conversation of the two sinking into the depth. is Friend " long run! I thinketh the always too many about me" one that maketh two in the "Always once — — could and me are always too earnestly in conversation: how it be endured. doth the discerning one go unwillingly into its waters. To whom it chastity is difficult. betrayer. : We eth with us offered that guest harbor and heart let it stay as long as it will! " — now it dwell- Thus spake Zarathustra.316 THE GERMAN CLASSICS too cruel eyes. do they long so much for a friend. Our longing for a friend is our . Our faith in others betrayeth wherein we would fain have faith in ourselves. and laugh better and oftener than you. There- fore. Not a few who you went thereby into the swine : themselves. Ah ! there are too many depths for all anchorites. and ' ' : we unto it. there are chaste ones from their very nature. but when it is shallow. and ye look wantonly toward the Hath not your lust just disguised itself and taken the name of fellow-suffering? sufferers. filth and is Do I speak of filthy for me to do. they are gentler of heart. and for his elevation. They laugh also " not ' ' at chastity. it is to become the road to hell — to ! be dissuaded: lest lust of soul. XIV — The "One. Not when the truth things That not the worst thing is filthy. Ye have And meant also this parable give I unto to cast out their devil.

Sawest thou ever thy friend asleep looketh? It is — to know how he What thine own is usually the countenance of thy friend? countenance. Perhaps he loveth in thee the unmoved eye. Let thy pity be a divining: to know first if thy friend wanteth pity. and not go over to him? Thou In one's friend one shall have one's best enemy. which doth not venture to solicit friendship. Let thy pity for thy friend be hid under a hard shell. One ought still to honor the enemy in one 's friend. shalt be closest unto him with thy heart when thou with- standest him. in a coarse and imperfect mirror. "Be at least mine enemy " ! — thus speaketh the true reverence. ye could then be ashamed of clothing! Thou canst not adorn thyself fine enough for thy friend for thou shalt be unto him an arrow and a longing for the ! He who maketh no . if ye were Gods. Canst thou go nigh unto thy friend. Sawest thou ever thy friend asleep? Wert thou not dismayed at thy friend looking so? my friend. Superman. then must one also be willing to wage war for him: and in order to wage war. : .THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA 317 And often with our love we want merely to overleap envy. Thy dream shall disclose unto thee what thy friend doeth when awake. and the look of eternity. If one would have a friend. to conceal that we are vulnerable. something In divining and keeping silence shall the friend be a master not everything must thou wish to see. one must be capable of being an enemy. Thou wouldst wear no raiment before thy friend? in It is honor of thy friend that thou showest thyself to him as thou art? But he wisheth thee to the devil on that ! account secret of himself shocketh: so much reason have ye to fear nakedness Aye. And often we attack and make ourselves enemies. man is that hath to be surpassed.

Never did the one neighbor understand the other: ever . it must not value as its neighbor valueth. along is with the light. ye men. Art thou a tyrant? Then thou canst not have friends. will I give even to my foe. who of you are capable of friendship? Oh! your poverty. XV — The Many Thousand and One Goals : lands saw Zarathustra. : Thus spake Zarathustra. which was there decked with : purple honors. however. No people could live without first valuing. but is nevertheless his friend's emancipator. Much found I here called bad. Thus will it have delicacy and sweetness. On that account woman is not yet capable of friendship she knoweth only love. And even in woman's conscious love. if a people will maintain itself. : there is still always surprise and lightning and night. not capable of friendship: women are Or at the best. and your sordidness of soul! As much as ye give to your friend.318 THE GERMAN CLASSICS thou shalt bite out a tooth upon it. As yet woman is not capable of friendship. There is comradeship may there be friendship ! As yet woman still cats and birds. But tell me. Art thou pure air and solitude and bread and medicine to thy friend? Many a one cannot loosen his own fetters. Far too long hath there been a slave and a tyrant concealed in woman. No greater power did Zarathustra find on earth than good and bad. Art thou a slave I Then thou canst not be a friend. ye men. Much that passed for good with one people was regarded with scorn and contempt by another thus I found it. and many peoples thus he discovered the good and bad of many peoples. cows. and will not have become poorer thereby. In woman's love there is injustice and blindness to all she doth not love.

THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTKA did his 319 soul marvel at his neighbor's delusion and ! wickedness. they took it not. Verily. its sky. A it is the table of their triumphs table of excellencies hangeth over every people. and became powerful and permanent thereby. they found it not. and for the sake of fidelity to risk honor and blood. shalt thou be the : "Always friend ' ' ' ' above others — foremost and prominent a that made the soul of a Greek thrill thereby no one shall thy jealous soul love. then wouldst thou divine the law of its surmountings. and its thou knewest but a people's need. and thus mastering itself. even in evil and dangerous courses " teaching itself so. to the dismay angl envy of their neighbors. and from the root of the soul to do their will" this table of surmounting hung another people over them. To speak truth. Whatever maketh them rule and conquer and shine. men have given unto themselves all their good and bad. the unique and hardest of all they extol It is laudable. To honor father and mother. and why it climbeth up that ladder to hope. they regard as the high and foremost thing. and be skilful with bow and arrow so seemed it alike pleasing and hard to the people from whom cometh my name the name which is alike pleasing and hard to me. . it came not unto them as a voice from heaven. neighbor. except : went he his way to greatness. my its brother. and what relieveth in the direst distress. Will to Power. became pregnant and heavy with great ' ' — — ' ' — — hopes. what they think hard. " To have fidelity. Lo lo it is the voice of their ! . the test and the meaning of all else. another people mastered itself. sable — as holy. Verily. Verily. what is indispenand hard they call good. if its land.

a prodigy is this power of praising and blaming. the individual himself the latest creation. — that times individuals. that seeketh its it is not the origin advantage in the advantage of many of the herd. and fire of wrath. ye creating ones treasure and jewel of the valued things. Valuing is itself is the Valuation creating hear it. : : — always. and creating ones.320 THE GERMAN CLASSICS only assign — he created only thethings significance of things. As yet humanity hath not a goal. for a thousand peoples have there been. significance Therefore. the crafty ego. calleth he himself the valuator. but its ruin. who will master it for me? Who will put a fetter upon the thousand necks of this animal? A thousand goals have there been hitherto. the bad conscience only saith ego. — called. Verily. . Love which would rule and love which would obey. Creating ones were first of all peoples. that creFire of love gloweth in the names of all the virtues. was ated good and bad. ye brethren. the loveless one. Many lands saw Zarathustra. created for themselves such tables. Verily. Hear it. and only in late is. change of the creating ones. : ! Through valuation only creating ones Change of values ! is ation the nut of existence there value and without valuwould be hollow. Tell me. is still Peoples once hung over them tables of the good. Only the fetter for the thousand necks is still lacking. Older is the pleasure in the herd than the pleasure in the ego and as long as the good conscience is for the herd. there is lacking the one goal. ye . ! man. and many peoples: no greater power did Zarathustra find on earth than the cre" and " bad " are " ations of the loving ones they good it Loving ones. Always doth he destroy who hath to be a creator. a ' ' Values did tain himself man to in order to main' ' human that is. verily.

and would fain make a virtue thereof: but I fathom your " unselfishness. and have fine words for But I say unto you: your neighbor-love is your bad love of yourselves. or their neighbors then would ye have to create your friend and his overflowing heart out of yourselves. but more so. higher still than love to men. the Thou hath been conbut not yet the I: so man presseth nigh unto his secrated. Would that ye could not endure it with any kind of near ones. neighbor. Ye cannot endure Vol. and runnest unto with yourselves.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA But pray be still 321 tell me. XVI — Neighbor-Love Ye crowd around your it. is love to things and phantoms. my brethren. . Not only doth he lie. Ye call in a witness when ye want to speak well of yourselves and when ye have misled him to think well of you. and would fain gild yourselves with his error. ye also think well of yourselves. thy neighbor." flee Ye unto is older than the I. why dost thou not give unto it thy flesh and thy bones? But thou fearest. xv — 21 . he who speaketh contrary to his ignorit : . who speaketh contrary to his knowledge. The phantom that runneth on before thee. if the goal of humanity lacking. your neighbor from yourselves. Do I advise you to neighbor-love? Rather do I advise The Thou you to neighbor-flight and to furthest love! Higher than love to your neighbor is love to the furthest and future ones. and do not love yourselves sufficiently so ye seek to mislead your neighbor into love. is fairer than thou. my brother. is there not also still lacking — humanity itself! Thus spake Zarathustra. neighbor.

if one would be loved by overflowing hearts. brethren. THE GERMAN CLASSICS And thus speak ye of yourselves in your intercourse. Your bad love to yourselves maketh solitude a prison to the character. in thy friend shalt thou love the motive. as the growth of good through evil. The furthest ones are they who pay for your love to the near ones. XVII — The Way Wouldst thou go of the Creating One into isolation. especially you. Thus saith the fool: "Association with men spoileth when one hath none. Let the friend be the festival of the earth to vou. I teach you the friend in whom the world standeth comthe creating friend. as the growth of purpose out of chance. and even the spectators often behaved like actors. but the friend. a sixth must always die. But one must know how to be a sponge.322 ance. Wouldst Tarry yet a little and brother? . Not the neighbor do I teach you. my thou seek the way unto thyself? hearken unto me. I advise you advise you to furthest love ! Superman as thy My not to neighbor-love — I Thus spake Zarathustra. who hath plete. I teach you the friend and his overflowing heart. Let the future and the furthest be the motive of thy him today. and when there are but five of you together. always a complete world to bestow. and a foretaste of the Superman. a capsule of the good. I love not your festivals either: too many actors found I there." The one goeth to his neighbor because he seeketh himself. and the other because he would fain lose himself. and belie your neighbor with yourselves. And as the world unrolled itself for him. so rolleth it — together again for in rings.

which is way unto thyself? Then show me thine authority and ! thy strength to do so Art thou a new strength and a new authority? first motion? A self-rolling wheel? Canst thou also compel stars to revolve around thee? Alas there is so much lusting for loftiness There are so many convulsions of the ambitions Show me that thou art not a lusting and ambitious one Alas there are so many great thoughts that do nothing more than the bellows they inflate. shall thine eye show unto me: free for what? Canst thou give unto thyself thy bad and thy good. The voice of the herd will still echo in thee.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA " He who seeketh lation is 323 wrong:" may easily get lost himself. and make emptier than A ! ! ! ! ! : ever. I have no longer a conscience in common with then will it be a plaint and a. I hear of. Thus is a star projected into desert space. and avenger of thy law? Terrible is aloneness with the judge and avenger of one's own law. dost thou call thyself? Thy ruling thought would and not that thou hast escaped from a yoke. And long didst thou belong to the herd. thou indi- vidual hopes. All isoso say the herd. Art thou one Free from what? What doth that matter to Zarathustra Clearly. that pain itself did the same conscience produce and ' ' ' ' . gleam of that conscience still gloweth on thine the But thou wouldst go the way of thine affliction. the last affliction. Lo. and thy . you. Today sufferest thou still from the multitude. entitled to escape from a yoke? Many a one hath cast away his final worth when he hath cast away his servitude. today hast thou still thy courage unabated. and set up thy will as a law over thee? Canst thou be judge for thyself. Free. . And when thou sayest. pain. and ! into the icy breath of aloneness. however.

Thou goest beyond them: but lt must thou say could ye be just unto me! " I choose your injustice as my allotted portion. none the less on that account! And be on thy guard against the good and just They if ! would fain crucify those who devise their own virtue they hate the lonesome ones. quail. one day will day thy pride yield. my brother. wilt thou thyself always be. also. against the assaults of thy love Too readily doth the recluse reach his hand to any — — ! one who meeteth him. my " How — — : thou wouldst be a star. play with the fire And be on thy guard. Most of all. I am alone cry One day wilt thou see no longer thy loftiness. and I wish thy paw also to have claws. . fain. and see too closely thy lowliness thy sublimity itself will frighten thee as a phantom. the smaller doth the eye of envy see thee. Be on thy guard. likewise.324 THE GERMAN CLASSICS will the solitude But one day ' ' : weary thee. the word " disdain? " ' ' ! and thy courage Thou wilt one ." Injustice and filth cast they at the lonesome one but. and yet wentest past: for that they never for- Thou many give thee. however. charge they heavily to thine account. ' ' ' ' : ! . the higher thou risest. would it of the fagot and stake. To many a one mayest thou not give thy hand. also. Thou earnest nigh unto them. — And the anguish of thy justice in being just to those that f orcest disdain thee? to think differently about thee . that. then must they themselves die! But art thou capable of it to be a murderer? Hast thou ever known. against holy simplicity! All is unholy to it that is not simple. Thou wilt one day cry All is false There are feelings which seek to slay the lonesome one if they do not succeed. but only thy paw. But the worst enemy thou canst meet. thou must shine for them brother. is the flying one hated. thou waylayest thyself in caverns and forests.

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as only the loving ones despise. sooth-sayer. it is a treasure that hath been given me it is a little truth which I carry. I love him who seeketh to create beyond himself. — : As I went on my way alone today. and a villain. my brother. thou friend of the evil? Verily. and a fool. like a young child. and if I hold not its mouth. XVIII " — Old and Young Women Why stealest thou along so furtively in the twilight. desireth the loving one. go into thine isolation. thou goest the way of the creating wilt thou create for thyself out of thy seven one. thyself in thine if Ready must thou be to burn how couldst thou become new come ashes! Thou lonesome one: a devils ! own flame . my brother. and on that account despisest thou thyself. thou have not first be- God one. and with thy creating and late only will justice limp after thee. Thus spake Zarathustra. my brother. said Zarathustra. With my tears. thou goest the way to thyself thy seven devils leadeth thy way ! ! 325 And A heretic wilt thou be to thyself. at the hour when the . But it is naughty. Zarathustra? And what hidest thou so carefully under thy mantle ? " Is it a treasure that hath been given thee? Or a child Or goest thou thyself on a that hath been born thee? " thief's errand. and thus succumbeth. thou goest the way of the loving thou lovest thyself. and a reprobate. .THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA Thou lonesome past thyself and one. go into thine isolation. and a wizard and a and a doubter. it screameth too loudly. because he despiseth! What knoweth he of love who hath not been obliged to despise just what he loved! Thou lonesome : one With thy love. To create.

— bitter Too sweet fruits is shall be trained for war. and never be the ! ! second. Up then. In the true ! man Let the beam of a star shine in your love! Let your " " May I bear the Superman! hope say: With your love shall ye In your love let there be valor assail him who inspireth you with fear In your love be your honor! Little doth woman understand otherwise about honor. a means: the purpose is always the woman. is children. — these the warrior liketh not." Talk also unto me of woman. and woman for the recreation of the warrior all else is folly. . fore liketh he woman. but man is more childish than a child hidden: it wanteth to and discover the child in man play. one should only talk unto men. and she spake to us women. " Much hath Zarathustra spoken also my soul : enough And to forget it presently. and everything in woman Man it is called pregnancy. child. pure and fine like the precious stone. But what is woman for man? Two different things wanteth the true man: danger and diversion. Thereeven the sweetest woman. Therefore wanteth he woman. A plaything let woman be. But let this be your honor: always to love more than ye are loved. ye women. there met thus unto woman. : Man Better than man doth there woman understand woman. illumined with the virtues of a world not yet come. said she I am old 1 ' ' ' ' * . Let every man fear woman when sacrifice.326 THE GERMAN CLASSICS me an old sun declineth. and everything she loveth: then maketh she else she regardeth as worthless. as the most hath one solution for — is dangerous plaything. but never spake he unto us concerning woman." And I answered her: " Concerning woman." I obliged the old woman and spake thus unto her: Everything in woman is a riddle.

is woman's soul. He will. so that Zarathustra screamed with pain. Then answered me the old woman Many fine things hath Zarathustra said. because with women nothing is impossible? And now accept a little truth by way of thanks I am ' ' : ' ' — ! ! ' ' ! old enough for it " Swaddle it up and hold its mouth: otherwise it will scream too loudly. Man's soul. because thou attractest.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA 327 Let man fear woman when she hateth: for man in his innermost soul is merely evil. owing to the heat. however. the little truth. must the woman." The happiness of woman is. with his arms over his face. — i * : ' ' The happiness of man is. is deep. "I will. And thus Give me. Surface. ' ' ' ' Obey. Whom hateth woman most? Thus spake the iron to the loadstone I hate thee most. Strange and yet he is right about them Doth this happen. XIX — The Bite of the Adder One day had Zarathustra fallen asleep under a fig-tree. but comprehendeth it not. but are too weak to draw unto thee. woman. is mean. stormy film on shallow water. a mobile. and find a depth for her surface. And there came an adder and bit him in the neck. especially for those who are young enough for them. When he had taken his arm from his face he looked at the serpent and then did it recognize the ." said I. . its current gusheth in subterranean caverns: woman surmiseth its force. "Lo! now hath the world become perfect!" — thus thinketh every woman when she obeyeth with all her love.. Zarathustra knoweth little about woman. thy little truth ! ' ' ' ' ! spake the old woman: " Thou goest to women? Do not forget thy whip! " Thus spake Zarathustra. however. woman.

yet hast thou not received my thanks Thou hast awakened me in time ! ." said Zarathustra. however. — When adder again on his neck. And rather be angry than abash any one! And when ye are cursed. Tell me where : find we justice. the good and just call me: my story is immoral." " Thy journey is short. " But take thy poison back! Thou poison? art not rich enough to present it to me. When Zarathustra once told this to his disciples they asked him "And what. ye have an enemy. I do not like your cold justice. " sadly. wriggled awkwardly. Nobler is it to own oneself in the wrong than to establish one's right. Hideous to behold is he on whom injustice presseth alone. my the journey adder. pleaseth Rather curse a it me not that ye should then desire also ! little should a great injustice befall you. one must be rich enough to do so." Zarathustra did ever a dragon die of a serpent's " said he. which is love with seeing eyes? . When. But prove that he hath done something good to you." Then fell the smiled. and licked his wound. is the moral of thy " And Zarathustra answered them thus: story? : The destroyer of morality.328 THE GERMAN CLASSICS eyes of Zarathustra. Only. Zarathustra. And if the punishment be not also a right and an honor to the transgressor. is yet long. then do quickly five small ones besides. he who can bear it. shall take the injustice upon himself small revenge is humaner than no revenge at all. to bless. then return him not good for evil: for that would abash him. and tried to get " Not at " as all. especially if one be in the right. away. Did ye ever know this? And Shared injustice is half justice. I do not like your punishing." said "my poison is fatal. out of the eye of your ! And A judges there always glanceth the executioner and his cold steel.

who will bring it out again? Guard against injuring the anchorite! If ye have done so. my brethren. Beyond thyself shalt thou build. all must . the master of thy virtues? Thus do I ask thee. however. art young. Finally. But first of thou be built thyself. ! except the judge ! And eth w^ould ye hear this likewise? To him to be just from the heart. guard against doing wrong to any How could an anchorite forget How could he ! requite ! Like a deep well is an anchorite. well then. tell me. But how could I be just from the heart Let this be enough for every one his own ! ! How me : I give every one mine own. the justice which acquitteth every one. and necessity? Or isolation? Or discord in thee? I would have thy victory and freedom long for a child. then. Or doth the animal speak in thy wish. cast I this question into thy soul. my brother: like a sounding-lead. I ask thee Art thou a man entitled to desire a child 1 : But Art thou the victorious one. the love which not only beareth all punishment. even the lie who seek- becometh can I give unto philanthropy. XX — Child I and Marriage have a question for thee alone. however. rectangular in body and soul. the self-conqueror. Living monuments shalt thou build to thy victory and emancipation. and desirest child and marriage. the ruler of thy passions. Easy is it to throw in a stone: if it should sink to the bottom. but also all guilt Devise me.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA 329 Devise me. kill him also! Thus spake Zarathustra. then. anchorite. that I may know Thou its depth.

I would that the earth shook with convulsions when a saint and a goose mate with one another. and ripe for the meaning of the earth: but when I saw his wife.330 THE GERMAN CLASSICS ! Not only onward shalt thou propagate thyself. a a creating one shalt thou spontaneously rolling wheel — create. but upward For that purpose may the garden of marriage help thee! A higher body shalt thou create. The reverence for one another. calleth That one was reserved in intercourse and chose But one time he spoilt his company for all time : choicely. ! last got for himself This one went forth in quest of truth as a hero. a first movement. the filth of Ah. those superfluous ones ah. the poverty of soul in the twain! Ah. call I marriage. I do not like No. . the earth seemed to me a home for madcaps. I do not heavenly toils like ! Far from me also be the God who limpeth thither to bless what he hath not matched! Laugh not at such marriages What child hath not had reason to weep over its parents*? Worthy did this man seem. Marriage: so call I the will of the twain to create the one that is more than those who created it. and at a small decked-up lie: his marriage he it. Let this be the significance and the truth of thy marriage. the pitiable self-complacency in the twain Marriage they call it all. But that which the many-too-many call marriage. Another sought a handmaid with the virtues of an angel. as those exercising such a will. Yea. his mar- riage he calleth it. those animals tangled in the Well. it. what shall I call it? — ! Ah. that heaven of the superfluous! them. and they say their marriages soul in the twain ! are made in heaven.

But even the astutest of them buyeth his wife in a sack. Bitterness is in the cup even of the best love it : thus doth it cause longing for the Superman. Not yet have people learned to ! : ! — : inaugurate the finest festivals.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA But all at 331 once he became the handmaid of a woman. have I found all buyers. Thus spake Zarathustra. Your love to woman. and such a marriage. follies And with your marriage putteth an end to many short one long stupidity. and also to now would he need become an angel. Careful. arrow Superman Holy call : tell me. . the bitter cup of your love. and woman's love to man ah. is this and longing for the thy will to marriage ? I such a will. But even your best love is only an enraptured simile and ! — a torch to light you to loftier paths. how could he ever die at the right time? Would that he might never be born Thus do I advise the superfluous ones. he who never liveth at the right time. Every one regardeth dying as a great matter but as yet death is not a festival. XXI : VOLUNTAEY DEATH ' ' ' ' Many die too late. thus doth cause thirst in thee. and all of them have astute eyes. But even the superfluous ones make much ado about their death. Beyond yourselves shall ye love some day! Then learn first of all to love. my brother. the creating one! Thirst in the creating one. and some die too early. would that it were sympathy for suffering and veiled deities But generally two animals light on one another. And on that account ye had to drink It is a painful ardor. and even the hollowest nut wanteth to be cracked. Yet strange soundeth the precept Die at the right time Die at the right time so teacheth Zarathustra. To be sure. Many short follies — that is called love by you.

yellow. One must discontinue being feasted tasteth best: that is known by those who loved. My death. not the rope-makers will I resemble they : And lengthen out their cord. Many umphs truth. a poison-worm gnaweth . is to die in and sacrifice a great soul. no doubt. which becoineth a stimulus and promise to the living. praise I unto you. and in others the spirit. the voluntary death. a one. out of reverence for the goal and the heir. and practice the difficult art of going at — the right time. he will hang up no more withered wreaths in the sanctuary of life. which cometh unto me because I want it. His death. whose lot is to wait day of autumn: and at the same time they become ripe.332 THE GERMAN CLASSICS The consummating death I show unto you. And some are hoary in youth. and shriveled. But to the fighter equally hateful as to the victor. the next best. To many men life is a failure. wanteth death at the right time for the goal and the — — heir. must take leave of honor betimes. is your Thus and yet grinning death which stealeth nigh like a thief cometh as master. Thus should one learn to die. and there should be no festival at which such a dying one doth not consecrate the oaths of the living ! to die is best. In some ageth the heart first. however. battle. And when shall I want it f He that hath a goal and an heir. surrounded by hoping and promising ones. waxeth too old for his truths and tri- a toothless mouth hath no longer the right to every And whoever wanteth to have fame. upon when one want to be long Sour apples are there. . but the late young keep until the last long young. Verily. dieth the consummating one triumphantly. and thereby go ever backward. also.

Far too many live. and patience with all that is " earthly.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA at their heart. my brethren! He died too early. It is cowardice that holdeth them fast to their branches. Would that a storm came and shook all this rottenness and worm-eatenness from the tree Many ! came preachers of speedy death! Those would be the appropriate storms and agitators of the trees of life! But I hear only slow death preached. and less of melancholy better understandeth he about life and death. and far from the good and just! Then. too early died that of slow death honor : Hebrew whom it and to many hath proved a calamity that he died too early. and the melancholy of the Hebrews. Had he but remained in the wilderness. and far too long hang they on their branches. That your dying may not be a reproach to man and the ! ! : . As yet had he known only tears. never become sweet they rot even in the summer. ye the preachers blasphemers Verily. and love the earth Believe it. would he have learned to and laughter also! live. see to it that their dying is the more a success. together with the hatred of the good and the Hebrew Jesus: then was he seized with the longjust — ing for death. and immatureiy also hateth he man and earth." Ah! ye preach patience with what is earthly? This that Would there earthly is it ! that hath too much patience with you. all 333 Then let them . But in man there is more of the child than in the youth. when there is no longer time for Yea: thus understandeth he about death and life. . Confined and awkward are still his soul and the wings of his spirit. Immatureiy loveth the youth. and free in death a holy Nay-sayer. he himself — would have disavowed his doctrine had he attained to my Noble enough was he to disavow age But he was still immature. Free for death. perhaps.

to . however. His to his disciples Tell me. and unprofiting. my friends. THE GERMAN CLASSICS my friends : that do I solicit from the honey of your In your dying shall your spirit and your virtue still shine an evening after-glow around the earth: otherwise T your dying hath been unsatisfactor3 Thus will I die myself. Now Verily. and beaming. now wanted disciples. then spake he thus staff. in lustre. pray: : how came gold to the highest value? Because and soft uncommon. do I see you.334 earth. to you throw I the golden ball. soul. . on the golden handle of which a serpent twined round the sun. Uncommon is the highest virtue. it always bestoweth itself. throw the golden ball! And. the name of which is " The Pied Cow. and unprofiting. presented him at his departure with a staff. so tarry I still a little while on the earth — pardon me for it! Thus spake Zarathustra. he threw his bail. that ye friends may love the earth more for my sake and earth will I again become. to have rest in her that bore me. and kept him company. be ye friends the heirs of my goal. Best of all. like . beneath the glance of the bestower. Only as image of the highest virtue came gold to the it is Goldlike. Zarathustra rejoiced on account of the and supported himself thereon. Then Zarathustra told they to a cross-road. beam- . highest value. XXII — The Bestowing Virtue 1 his heart Zarathustra had taken leave of the town to which was attached." there followed him many people who called them- When selves his disciples. Gold-lustre maketh peace between moon and sun. Thus came them that he go alone for he was fond of going alone. a goal had Zarathustra.

call I this selfishness. eration. things to flow toward you and into an appropriator of all values must such be- stowing love become. its companion and echo. of all? Tell me. — . which would always steal — the sickly selfishness. Such similes of elevations Thus goeth the body through history. fights' and victories' herald. Verily. so that they shall flow back again out of your fountain as the gifts of your love. a simile of an elevation. Insatiably striveth your soul for treasures and jewels." soareth our sense: thus is it a simile of our body. Verily. — Another selfishness is there. Ye all insatiable in desiring to bestow. not degeneration? — And we which saith: Upward "All for myself. What should ye have in common with It is : cats and wolves? your thirst to become sacrifices and gifts yourselves and therefore have ye the thirst to 'accumulate all riches in your soul. but healthy and holy. With the eye of the thief lustrous it looketh upon all that is with the craving of hunger it measureth him who hath abundance. are the names of the virtues. a becomer and And the spirit what is it to the body? Its fighter. I divine you well. Is my it brother.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA ing is it. speaketh the larcenous craving of this selfishness. 335 and soft of lustre: a bestowing virtue is the highest virtue. because your virtue is constrayi you. Sickness speaketh in such craving. and ever doth it prowl round the tables of bestowers. an all-too-poor and hungry the selfishness of the sick. and worst always suspect degeneration when the bestowing soul is lacking. my disciples: ye strive like me for the bestowing virtue. kind. genera. and invisible degen. what do we think bad. Upward goeth our course from genera on to superBut a horror to us is the degenerating sense. of a sickly body.

and a subtle soul: a golden sun. with it its delight. A fool who seeketh knowledge Similes. a needful to you : there is the origin of your new good and this evil is it! Verily. ye are willers of one will. Let it not fly away from the earthly and beat against his disciples.336 THE GERMAN CLASSICS names of good and evil. ye despise pleasant things. and the effeminate couch. with the power of your virtue! Let your bestowing love and your knowlThus do be devoted to be the meaning of the earth edge I pray and conjure you. so that it becometh cre- and valuer. to every hour when your spirit there is the origin of your virtue. there hath always been much flowD-away virtue! . and raised up. as a loving one 's will there When : is the origin of your virtue. Here paused Zarathustra awhile. with the serpent of new virtue . your heart overfloweth broad and full like the a blessing and a danger to the lowlanders: there is river. and is when that change of every need Verily. — ! eternal walls with so its wings! Ah. in similes is brethren. a ruling thought is it. and lover. knowledge around it. my brethren. the origin of your virtue. and looked lovingly on and his Then he continued to speak thus voice had changed: Remain true to the earth. When ye are exalted above praise and blame. my would speak Elevated ator. a new deep murmuring. enraptureth the spirit. and the voice of a new fountain! Power around it is it. the origin of your virtue. from them ! Give heed. are all speak out. and cannot couch far enough from the effeminate : When is there When virtue. they do not they only hint. : then your body. and everything's benefactor. and your will would command all things.

my brethren: let the value of everything be determined anew by you Therefore shall ye be fighters Therefore shall ye be creators! Intelligently doth the body purify itself. to the exalted the soul be- cometh joyful. back to body and life that it may give to the earth its meaning. Awake and hearken. to the discerners all ! ! impulses sanctify themselves. XV — 22 . ye seceding ones. Alas. much ignorance and error hath become embodied in us Not only the rationality of millenniums also their breaketh out in us. an attempt hath man been.THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA : 337 Lead. attempted and erred. and over all mankind hath hitherto ruled nonsense. ! A tidings are proclaimed. Ye lonesome ones of today. Let your spirit and your virtue be devoted to the sense of the earth. who maketh himself whole. A hundred times hitherto hath spirit as well as virtue away and blundered. Unexhausted and undiscovered is still man and man's world. Dangerous is it to be an heir. attempting with intelligence it exalteth itself. thousand paths are there which have never yet been trodden a thousand salubrities and hidden islands of life. ye lonesome ones From the future come winds with stealthy pinions. a human meaning! A hundred times hitherto hath spirit as well as virtue flown — Alas! in our body dwelleth still all this delusion and blundering: body and will hath it there become. like me. and to fine ears good . ye shall one day be a people: out of you who have chosen yourselves. shall a chosen people arise: —-and out of it the Superman. Vol. heal thyself: then wilt thou also heal thy Let it be his best cure to see with his eyes him patient. madness. Yea. the lack! » — of-sense. the flown-away virtue back to the earth yea. Physician. Still fight we step by step with the giant Chance.

do I bid you lose me and find yourselves and only when ye have all denied me. and children of one hope then will I be with you for the Now . thus and his voice had changed — At last he spake : I now go ! and alone alone. he paused. a salvation-bringalready ing odor — and a new hope! like "When Zarathustra had spoken these words. a place of healing shall the earth become is a new odor diffused around it. . to celebrate the great noontide with you. . And once again shall ye have become friends unto me. And it is the great noontide. account.338 THE GERMAN CLASSICS ! And Verily. shall I then seek my lost ones with another love shall I then love you. Verily. The man of knowledge must be able not only ! to love his enemies. ye believe in Zarathustra? But of what account Zarathustra! Ye are my believers: but of what account lest all day collapse? is Take heed are believers! find me. therefore all belief is of so little . with other eyes. So will I my : disciples! it. I advise you depart from me. Ye had not yet sought yourselves: then did ye So do all believers . if one remain merely a And why will ye not pluck at my wreath 1 Ye venerate me but what if your veneration should some a statue crush you! Ye say. and celebrateth his advance to the evening as his highest hope: for it is the advance to a new morning. will I return unto you. but also to hate his friends. One requiteth a teacher badly scholar. Ye also now go away. have ! Verily. : third time. one who had not said his last word. my brethren. when man is in the middle of his course between animal and Superman. and long did lie balance the staff doubtfully in his hand. and guard yourAnd better still be ashamed selves against Zarathustra : of him Perhaps he hath deceived you.

THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA At such time will the 339 down-goer bless himself." Let this be our final will at the great noon- — tide! Thus spake Zarathustra. . that he should be an over-goer. " Dead are all the Gods: now do we desire the Superman to live. and the sun of his knowledge will be at noontide.

" as a costly and superfluous luxury of the understanding: for we are still in want of the necessaries of life. We do need history. We would serve history only so far as it serves life. in Goethe's phrase. why in fact history.A. but to value its study beyond a certain point mutilates and degrades life and this is a fact that certain marked symptoms : of our time make it as necessary as it may be painful to bring to the test of experience. This may lead some one to explain to me that he has also had the feeling. I have tried to describe a feeling that has often troubled me: I revenge myself on it by giving it publicity. I will show in them why instruction that does not " quicken." knowledge that slackens the ' ' I rein of activity.THE USE AND ABUSE OF HISTORY By Friedrich Nietzsche TRANSLATED BY ADRIAN COLLINS. M. not as a convenient way to avoid life and action. must be seriously "hated. and cannot express it with the ripe certainty of experience. and the superfluous is an enemy to the necessary. we need it for life and action. but that I do not feel it purely and elementally enough. [340] . like a sincere ceterum censeo. A few may say so but most people will tell me ." words of Goethe. however grandly they may look down on our rude and unpicturesque requirements. In other words. but quite differently from the jaded idlers in the garden of knowledge. PREFACE hate everything that merely instructs me without These increasing or directly quickening my activity. or to excuse a selfish life and a cowardly or base action. may well stand at the head of my thoughts on the worth and the worthlessness of history.

be allowed my say." And I compliments to such a gain vantage for myself that is more valuable to the attainment of a correct point of view." because I am trying to represent something of which the age is rightly proud its historical culture as a fault and a defect in our time. I am at all costs going to venture on a description of my feelings. But even if it be a virtue. and that I show myself unworthy of the great historical movement which is especially strong among the German people for the last two generations. propriety through my critics. These thoughts are " out of season. except in its being classical scholarship may have — for our time . Goethe may be right in asserting that we cannot help developing our faults at the same time as our virtues and an excess of virtue can obviously bring a nation to ruin. and altogether unlawful feeling to have. as I shall give plenty of opportunity for " movement.' unnatural. In any case I — paying an adme than — — . I must admit so much in virtue profession as a classical scholar for I do not know what meaning " unseasonable " that is. But I will first relieve my mind the confession that the experiences which produced those by may and disturbing feelings were mostly drawn from myself. ' ' ' ' — so far as I am the nursling of older ages like the Greek. from other sources onlv for the sake of comparison: and that I have only reached such unseasonable experience. believing as I do that we are all suffering from a malignant historical fever and should at least recognize the fact. as well as an excess of vice. : and of my less a child of this age. with regard to our age. horrible. contrary to our time.THE USE AND ABUSE OF HISTORY 341 that it is a perverted. which will be decidedly in the interests of propriety. of a future time. it may be hoped. and yet with an influence on it for the benefit.

THE USE AND ABUSE OF HISTORY* ONSIDER the herds that are feeding yonder: the meaning of yesterday or to night. today. that chain runs with him. Man cannot see them without regret. for even in the pride of his humanity he looks enviously on the beast's happiness. " I remember. without leaving sees every moment * sion Chapters I-IV. move or from morning day. The beast lives unhistorically. leaf is continually dropping out of the volume of time and fluttering away and suddenly it flutters back into the man's lap. sink into night and mist." and envies the beast. and A — really die. that is here and gone. that was nothing before and nothing after. taken up with their hates. and is silent. they graze and ruminate. that forgets at once. for extinguished " " the it goes into present. From Thoughts Out of Season (1873-7G). Then he says. He wonders also about himself. yet will not it is all change places with it. for he ask the beast — — ' ' : of a later moment. He wishes simply to live without satiety or pain. T342] Permis- . and the man is left to wonder. returns like a spectre to trouble the quiet " ' ' in vain. The Macmillan Co. like the beast. He may Why do you look at me and not speak to me of your BeThe beast wants to answer happiness ? cause I always forget what I wished to say": but he forgets this answer too. feeling neither melan- choly nor satiety.. they know not rest. at the little from day to loves and mercy of the moment. for ever. It is matter for wonder: the moment. like a number. that he cannot learn to forget. but hangs on the past however far or fast he run. New York.

to see a herd nearer still. The smallest pleasure. " that " " once the words open sesame upon a time. an imperfect And when death tense that never becomes a present. nothing. in the smallest and greatest happiness one thing that makes it happiness: the always power of forgetting. and plays in a happy blindness between the walls of the past and the future. and not honest. And yet its play must be disturbed. in more learned phrase. brings at last the desired forgetfulness." a thing that lives by denying and destroying and contradicting itself. is incomparably a greater happiness than the more intense pleasure that comes as an episode. past to disown. thought of a lost Paradise. it abolishes life like the — in is burden that he can plausibly only too glad to disown in converse with his and being together. suffering and weariness on mankind. it conceals seems what it actually is.THE USE AND ABUSE OF HISTORY any curious remainder. or. and reminds them what their existence really is. One who cannot leave himself behind on the threshold of and privation. a child. desire. and only too soon will it be summoned from Then it learns to understand its little kingdom of oblivion. no philosophy has perhaps more truth than the cynic's: for the beast's happiness. cannot dissimulate. is the visible proof of the truth of cynicism. and sets the seal on the knowledge that " being " is merely a continual " has been. there is But . that has nothing yet of the grazing." the lets in battle. a wild freak. But man is always . If happiness like that of the perfect cynic. at every It 343 moment it thus can be nothing that is resisting the great and continually increasing weight of the past it presses him down. a mad interval between ennui. travels with a dark invisible disown. and the chase for new happiness keep alive in any sense the will to live. And so it hurts him. or. and bows his shoulders he . and fellows order to excite their envy. if it be only continuous and make one happy. the capac" " unhistorically ity of feeling throughout its duration.

Such a man believes no more in himself or his own existence. conor at any rate shortly afterscience. as to feel tolerably comfortable. like the logical disciple of Heraclitus. of healing wounds. One who wished to feel everything . in the midst of them — ward. who had to live by chewing a conThus even a happy life is possible without : remembrance. a single pain. as the beast shows but is life in any true sense my " historical rumination. if it is not to become the gravedigger of the present. and loses himself in the stream of becoming. who are so little injured by the worst misfortunes. of making the past and the strange one body with the near and the present. At last. and even by their own spiteful actions. To fix this degree and the limits to the memory of the past. he sees everything fly past in an eternal succession. who is condemned to see "becoming" everywhere." that injures and finally the living thing. worse The still. would be like a man forcing himself to refrain from sleep. like a goddess of victory. man . lacerate their souls like the scratch of a poisoned There are others. will never know what happiness is. be it a man or a people or a destroys absolutely impossible without forgetfulness. Or. who cannot stand on a single point. of sense. the .344 the THE GERMAN CLASSICS moment and forget the past. he will hardly dare to raise his finger. There are men who have this power so slightly that a single sharp experience. " of " how is the we must see a clearly great plastic power or a community or a culture I mean the power of specifically growing out of one's self. repairing broken molds. replacing what is lost. The deeper the roots of a man's inner nature. extreme case would be the without any power to forget. with a fairly quiet. to put conclusion better. and. there is a degree of sleeplessness. will knife. without fear or giddiness. of system of culture. often a little injustice. will never do anything to make others happy. or a beast tinual cud. Forgetf ulness is a property of all action just as not only light but darkness is bound up with the life of every organism. man historically.

and his experience falsely supposed original. or too selfish to lose to own view Cheerful- will come an untimely end. his horizon as narrow as that of an Alpine valley. in the individual as well as the nation. on there being a line that divides the visible and clear from the vague and shadowy we must know the right time to forget : as well as the right time to remember and ." . Every one has noticed that a man's historical knowledge and range of feeling may be very limited. because the lines of his horizon are continually changing and shifting. and so we may hold the capacity of feeling (to a certain extent) un- . good conscience. a living thing can only be healthy. with the narrowest of horizons. passions. theories. however foreign. Such a nature can forget what it cannot subdue. consider: that the unhistorical and the historical are equally necessary to the health of an individual. instinctively see when necessary to feel historically. and turn it to sap. his judgments incorrect. depend. the joyful deed. ness. to the joy of all who see him whereas another man with far more judgment and learning will fail in comparison. This is a universal law. and nothing to remind it that there are still men. absolutely unhistorical. has yet a certain happiness. and when unhisThis is the point that the reader is asked to torically. and yet in spite of all the incorrectness and falsity he may stand forth in unconquerable health and vigor.THE USE AND ABUSE OF HISTORY better will he take the past into himself. belief in the future. strong and productive within a certain horizon: if it be incapable of its drawing one round in another's. a comit is munity. and aims on the other side. there is no break in the horizon. We saw that the beast. 345 and the greatest and most powerful nature would be known by the absence of limits for the historical sense to overgrow and work harm. and a system of culture. a all it itself. and lives at least without hypocrisy or ennui. and he cannot shake himself free from the delicate network of his truth and righteousness for a downright act of will or " desire. It would assimilate and digest the past.

and music. everything that is truly great and human. as he can scarcely feel it he wonders that he has so long been the sport of strange words and opinions. He is blind to everything behind him. ungrateful to the past. and he seems to grasp them . letting a clear sudden light break these misty clouds by his power of turning the past through to the uses of the present. to leave metaphors and take a concrete example. whether for a woman or a theory. while without the veil of the unhistorical he would never have the courage to begin. is the cradle not only of unjust action. the dust-cloud of the unhistorical! five senses together. without having striven and " unhistorical " conditions. him flag again. is without conscience. he is also without knowledge: he forgets most No . What deeds could man ever have done if he had not been enveloped in Or. comparisons. but of every just and justifiable action in the world. as providing the foundation of every sound and real growth. deaf to warnings. It is life. All his judgments of value are changed for the worse there is much he can no longer value. in Goethe's phrase. no nation gain its freedom. true that man can only become man by first suppressing is like this unhistorical element in his thoughts. to be the the surrounding atmosphere that can alone create and in whose annihilation life itself disappears. But an excess of history makes tinctions. The unhistorical historically. a small living eddy in a dead sea of night and And yet this condition. blind to danger. imagine a man swayed and driven by a strong passion. artist will paint his picture. dis- and conclusions. : with his his recollections have run round in one unwearying circle and are yet too weak and weary to make a single step away from it. unhistorical and forgetfulness. light.346 THE GERMAN CLASSICS more important and elemental. antihistorical throughout. yearned for it under those very If the man of action. no general win his victory. it is narrow. His whole case is most indefensible. new sounds are muffled and meaningless though his perceptions were never so intimately felt in all their color. that . His world is quite altered.

What sprightly running could not give. So he loves his work infinitely more than it deserves and the best works are produced in such an ecstasy of love that they must always be unworthy of it. purpose. and only recognizes one law." Such a standpoint " might be called super-historical. but will give different reasons for their answer. History. because their consciousness of studied in detail: that and best — them is grasped under the spell of a more powerful spirit who reads a deeper emotion into the given form. Whoever asks his friends whether they would live the last ten or twenty years over again. the law of that which is to be. if men may know." he says.THE USE AND ABUSE OF HISTOKY 347 things in order to do one. life should be lived Greeks or Turks. that Niebuhr has described as the possible result of historical " " is useful for one research. and breathe afterward. Should any one be able to dissolve the unhistorical atmosphere in which every great event happens. and have learnt to answer the question how and why for all men and all circumstances. he might be capable of rising to the "super-historical" standpoint of consciousness. Some will say they have the consolation that the : this exceptionally intense. I say. will easily see which of them is born for the super-historical standpoint they will all answer no." . for he would have recognized the blindness and injustice in the soul of the doer as a condition of every deed he would be cured henceforth of taking history too seriously." as one who took it could feel no impulse from history to any further life or work. as the greatest of our generation do not know. the accispirits dental nature of the forms in which they see and insist on others seeing insist. the first century or the nineteenth. Any one who has not idea in its different applications will fall — ' ' ' ' : next twenty will be better: they are the satirically men referred to by David the Hume : "And from the dregs of life first hope to receive. to be loved. however great their worth otherwise. he is unjust to what is behind him.

they are unanimous in the theory that the past and the present are one and the same. Their vision of the past turns them toward the future.348 THE GERMAN CLASSICS will call ' ' ' ' J them the historical men. and comes even to be weary of the letters that are continually unrolled before him. But that question to which we have heard the first " answer. He has a divine insight into the original meaning of the hieroglyphs. also a no. and how their preoccupation with it is for the sake of life rather than mere science. It is the super-historical who sees no salvation in evolution. surfeit. loathing? perhaps at last to say from his heart with Giacomo Leopardi: "Nothing lives that were worth thy pains. They do not know how unhistorical their thoughts and actions are in spite of all their history. and kindles the hope that justice will yet come and happiness is behind the mountain they We They believe that the meaning of existence become ever clearer in the course of its evolution. able to teach? of the teaching be happiness or resigvirtue or penance. not agreed. and forming together a picture of eternally present imperishable types of unchangeable value and significance. so the " super" historical philosopher sees all the history of nations and individuals from within. typically alike in all their diversity. is capable of another. How could the next ten years teach what the past ten were not will are climbing. these super-historical men are nation. and one who understood the needs could learn nothing new from the languages. ." but on different " no " of the " " man grounds. How should the endless rush of events not bring So the boldest of us is ready satiety. but as against all merely historical ways of Whether the aim viewing the past. for whom the world is complete and fulfils its aim in every single moment. they only look backward at the process to understand the present and stimulate their longing for the future. encourages them to persevere with life. Just as the hundreds of different languages correspond to the same constant and elemental needs of mankind.

Our being is pain and nothing else. its blind passion. its injustice. is. I will take the usual road of the short summary. and especially the earthly and historical : A darkened horizon that was the source of its power for This power has now become. a new system of culture only. in relation to the man duced to who knows it." weariness. serves an unhistorical power. for example.THE USE AND ABUSE OF HISTORY 349 and the earth deserves not a sigh. phenomenon. History. and is followed by the degeneration of history as well. The value we put on the historical may be merely a Western prejudice let us at least go forward within this prejudice and not stand still. Historical study is only fruitful for the future if it follow a powerful life-giving influence. and the world is mud But we will leave the super-historical men to their loathings and their wisdom: we wish rather today to be joyful in our unwisdom and have a pleasant life as active men who go forward. so long as we are sure of having more life than they: for in that case our than their wisdom. recognized alive. and respect the course of the world. for him who has history. dead for he has found out its madness. unwisdom would have a greater future before it To make my opposition between life and wisdom clear. service is one of the most serious questions affecting the well-being of a man. . it. the intellect would . if it be guided and dominated by a higher force. If we could only learn better to study history as a means to life! We would gladly grant the — : super-historical people their superior wisdom. perhaps. and thus will never become a pure science like The question how far life needs such a mathematics. so far as it serves life. For by excess of history life becomes maimed and degenerate. a people and a culture. powerless . completely understood and rean item of knowledge. not yet. and do not itself guide and dominate. Be calm. therefore. for him who is History regarded as pure knowledge and allowed to sway mean for men the final balancing of the ledger of life.

his suffering and his desire for deliverance. great teacher. or humanity's at large he avoids quietism. For the most part he has no hope of reward except fame. that shows us how to bear steadfastly the ^reverses of fortune. that the poet meets no nature that will profit him. History is necessary to the living man in three ways in relation to his action and struggle. by reminding us of what others have suffered. but often the nation's. Goethe says. he cannot find them among his confact that life does . For his orders are that what has once been able to extend the conception man and : ' ' ' ' give it a fairer content. Polybius is thinking of the active man when he calls political history the true preparation for governing a State. and uses history as a weapon against it. where he in his turn may be the consoler and counsellor of posterity. hopeless idlers. He does not wish to meet the idler who is rushing through the picture-galleries of the past for a sensation. must ever exist for the same office. teachers. in history Whoever has learned must hate to recognize this to see curious tourists meaning and laborious beetle-hunters climbing up the great pyramids of antiquity. he looks behind him the goal in order to breathe. guished History is necessary above all to the man of action and power who fights a great fight and needs examples. and those whose apparent activity is merely is where he himself neurotic. which means the expectation of a niche in the temple of history. These three relations answer to the three kinds of history so far as they can be distinthe monumental. : The — — temporaries. and comforters. his conservatism and reverence. and the critical. It was necessary in this sense to Schiller for our time is so evil. among living men.350 THE GERMAN CLASSICS II need the service of history must be as clearly grasped as that an excess of history hurts it this will be proved later. new distraction or looking for example and To avoid being troubled by the weak and encouragement. . not perhaps his own. it is the . the antiquarian. and stays his course toward His goal is happiness.

that his life is the fairest leaving who thinks least about life. knew how to greet it with Olympic laughter. who are strengthened and made happy by gazing on past greatness. and they went down to their graves in for what had they to bury? Only what they had irony treated as dross. cost. the signsport of their contempt. fiercest battle is fought round the demand for greatness to be eternal. the deed. in thick vapor round anything that ! is great. The common man snatches greedily at this little span. a high road for humanity through the ages. on their way to monumental history and immortality. Dull custom fills all the chambers of the world with its mean- But the ness. barring its And way to immortality. way passes through mortal brains Through the brains of sick and short-lived beasts that ever rise to the surface to breathe. as though man's life were a lordly thing. with tragic earnestness. the rare flash of light. and vanity. "Away with the monuments. because posterity cannot do without it. and the highest points of those vanished moments are yet great and living for men." is the watchword. that finds a voice in the demand for a ' ' mental ' ' history. another who had pity and lovinga little space. blinding and stifling it. but they.THE USE AND ABUSE OF HISTOEY 351 The great moments in the individual battle form a chain. and which now always falls into its true home of oblivion. the hard torch-race that alone gives life to greatness? And yet there are always men awakening. and the fairest fruit of this bitter tree were the knowledge that there was once a man who walked sternly and proudly through this world. the creation. after being so long the One thing will live. and the rises. Who ' ' but all kindness. — . and this is the fundamental idea of the belief in monuhumanity. refuse. manual of their inmost being. and painfully keep off annihilation for For they wish but one thing: to live at any would ever dream of any "monumental history among them. Every other living thing cries no. another who lived in contemplation one truth behind them. or at least — with a lofty scorn.

the individuality of the past forced into a general formula and all the sharp angles broken off for the ! sake of correspondence. many of the differences must be neglected. he will .352 THE GERMAN CLASSICS In this spiritualized form fame is something more than the sweetest morsel for our egoism. of course. for his doubt in weaker moments.gather strength from the remembrance that the culture of the Renaissance was raised on the shoulders of such another band of a hundred men. Ultimately. and so may be possible again. the events on earth are reproduced to the smallest detail. brought up in the new spirit. efficient and productive. is struck aside. the same deus ex machina. were needed to give the deathblow to the present fashion of education in Germany. Suppose one believe that no more than a hundred men. Only if the earth always began its drama again after the fifth act. in Schopenhauer's phrase: it is the belief in the oneness and continuity of the great in every age. what was once possible can only become possible a second time on the Pythagorean theory. to see each fact fully set out in its uniqueness it would not prob: . could the man of action venture to look for the whole archetypic truth in monumental history. this preoccupation with the rare and classic? It is the knowledge that the great thing existed and was therefore possible. whether his desire be not for the impossible. and a different conjunction will show another Columbus discovering America. He is heartened on his way. What ' ' is the use to the modern man of this " monu- mental contemplation of the past. a Stoic and an Epicurean will form a conspiracy to murder Caesar. and a protest against the change and decay of generations. that when the heavenly bodies are in the same position again. how vague and elusive do we find the comparison If it is to give us strength. the same catastrophe would occur at particular intervals. and it were certain that the same interaction of motives. And yet if we really wish to learn something from an example. so when the stars have a certain relation.

As long as the soul of history is found in the great im- and effect. turns aside. it entices the brave to rashness. war drel. as far as it may. Imagine this history in the hands and the head of a gifted egoist or an inspired scounwill be overthrown. as the same motives for action can be gathered If this monumental from the one world as the other. ' ' : ' ' " it effects in themselves popular celebrations are such is these that will not let ambition sleep.' ' than of events that will have an effect on The events of war or religion cherished in our all ages. will always weaken the differences of motive and occasion. and lie like amulets not the real historical nexus of cause on the bolder hearts . would only prove that nothing quite similar could ever be cast again from the dice-boxes of fate and the future. and brought nearer to fiction. rightly understood. pulse that it gives to a powerful spirit. as examples for imitation it monumentally. — which. Sometimes there is no possible distinction between a ' ' monumental ' ' past and a mythical romance. Till then monumental history will never be able to have complete truth. with only a few gaily — — colored islands of fact rising above it. the method of surveying the past dominate the others the past itself suffers wrong. it will always bring together things that are incompatible and generalize them into compatibility. princes murdered. There is something beyond nature in the rare figures that become visible. they flow away like a dark unbroken river. from reasons. antiquarian and the critical Whole tracts of it are forgotten and despised. like the golden hips that his disciples attributed to Pythagoras. Monumental history lives by false analogy. as long as the past is principally used as a model for imitation. Its object is to depict effects at the expense of the causes 1 ' — that is. it is always in danger of being a little altered and touched up. kingdoms — — Vol.THE USE AND ABUSE OF HISTORY 353 ably be before the astronomers became astrologers again. and might be " effects called with far less exaggeration a collection of in themselves. XV — 23 . and the enthusiastic to fanaticism by its tempting comparisons.

be they good or bad. who how their hereditary enemies. they pretend to be physicians. before the court of esthetic dilettanti. spirits." accordart. noble action. They develop their tastes to . primarily because they wish : " idea to kill art. They are connoisseurs of art. the inaror half artistic natures whom a monumental history They will use the provides with sword and buckler. who never put a hand to the work just as the arm-chair politician has ever had more wisdom and But if the custom foresight than the actual statesman. and embody what they have learnt in obstructed. " See. you may take your oath on his condemnation. the monumental will never be reproduced. and the weight of its authority is invoked from the past to make it sure. but what if the weak and the inactive take it as and revolution themselves" — — in let loose. although. weapons against lesson." we seem to hear: " The are these aspiring little people of today? dancing crowd has apparently the monopoly of " good taste ": for the creator is always at a disadvantage compared with the mere looker-on." the art that has In their eyes no need nor official definition. and the number of " effects in their servant — or their master! tistic Consider the simplest and commonest example.354 THE GEKMAN CLASSICS other words. ing to the inclination nor historical authority is in favor of the art which is not yet "monumental" because it is contempoTheir instinct tells them that art can be slain by art rary. the great artistic alone can learn from that history the one real to live. ened by the idolatrous — and conscientious — dance round the half understood Their way is their free air dark- monument of a great past. when their real is to dabble in poisons. So much for the harm done by monumental history to the powerful men of action. of democratic suffrage and numerical majorities be transferred to the realm of art. and the artist put on his defence . effects without sufficient cause increased. or rather because. that " of what use is the true and real art. his judges had proclaimed solemnly the canon of monumental " had an effect on all ages.



who looks back to the origins of his existence with love and trust. thus he does life a service. ' ' — ' ' the three kinds of history will only flourish in one ground and climate otherwise it grows to a noxious : Each of produce something great." history judges and condemns. they are acting as though their motto were. as that which is about to arise their lives are evidence of that. he makes himself its master by means of monumental history: the man who can rest content with the traditional and venerable. The possession of his ancestors' furniture changes its meaning in his soul : for his soul is rather . through it. he gives He is careful to preserve what survives thanks for life. and who will cast the burden off at any by feels the want of " critical the that If the will ' ' : weed. See. they are torn from their native soil and therefore degenerate. the antiquary without piety. uses the past as an " antiand only he whose heart is oppressed quarian historian an instant need. and will reproduce the conditions of his own upbringing for those who come after him. that they may be able to show a reason for continually rejecting all the nourishing artistic fare that is offered them. the knower of the great deed who cannot be the doer of it.THE USE AND ABUSE OF HISTORY 355 a point of perversion. There is much harm wrought by wrong and thoughtless planting: the critic without the need. ni Secondly. have need of the past. the great thing is here " In reality they care as little about the already great thing that is already here. history tive is necessary to the man of conserva- and reverent nature. . For they do not want greatness to arise their method is to say. Monumental history is the cloak under which their hatred of present power and greatness masquerades as an extreme admiration of the ' ' : ! : y past: the real meaning of this way of viewing history is disguised as its opposite whether they wish it or no. man who price. are plants that have grown to weeds. history. let the dead bury the living. from ancient days.

All that is small and limited. the turreted gate. reason. and he saw the German work for the first time " coming from the stern. industry. gains a worth and inviolability of its own from the conservative and reverent soul of the antiquary migratThe history ing into it." as Jacob Burckhardt says." he surveys the marvelous individual life of the past and identifies himself with the spirit of the house." And so. the family and the city. and will not be uprooted in the night. the spirit that reawakened the ancient Italic " a wondrous echo of the immemogenius in their poets to But the greatest rial lyre. and building a secret nest there. his instinctive correctness in reading the scribbled past. and keeping them from ranging far afield in search of better. value of this antiquarian spirit of reverence lies in the simple emotions of pleasure and content that it lends to the drab. moldy and obsolete. with such thoughts before the monument of Erwin von Steinbach the storm of his feeling rent the historical cloudveil that hung between them. rough. and understanding at Goethe stood its palimpsests nay. with his " we. and " as one can live here " Here one could live. the town council. across the dim and troubled centuries his gifts and his virtues lie in such power of feeling and divination. — . as his own." he says. the fair. faults. German This was the road that the Italians of the Renaissoul. The influence that to find only struggle and competition? . as an illustrated diary of his youth. even painful circumstances of a nation's or individual's life: Niebuhr confesses that he could live happily on a 1 moor among free peasants with a history. its polypsests.356 THE GERMAN CLASSICS possessed by it. and would never feel the want of art. / — now and will go on living for we are tough folk. rough. follies. and sees himself in it all his strength. : his scent of a half-vanished trail." once : — sance traveled. He greets the soul of his people from afar . How could history serve life better than by anchoring the less gifted races and peoples to the homes and customs of their ancestors. desire. he looks on the walls. of his town becomes the history of himself.

— what we nowadays prefer to call the These are not the conditions most favorable to reducing the past to pure science: and we see here too. rejected as . the things of the past are never viewed in their true perspective or receive their just value but value and per. that everything ancient regarded as equally venerable. : to the daily round of toil. a city or a nation has . and not otherwise The antiquarian sense of a man. spective change with the individual or the nation that looking back on its past. like a new spirit. the tree feels its roots better than can see them: the greatness of the feeling is measured by the greatness and strength of the visible branches. Many : at all.THE USE AND ABUSE OF HISTORY ties 357 men down to the same companions and circumstances. and everything with- out this respect for antiquity. novelty. field. and therefore too much to anything. To vary it the metaphor. as we saw in the case of monumental history. which it only knows and feels so far as it is hindered or helped by it. the others are seen in isolation. but the inheritance. the fruit and blossom of a past. The tree may be wrong here how far more wrong will it be in regard to the whole forest. the happiness of knowing one's growth to be not merely arbitrary and fortuitous. is There will be is always the danger here. as things are not noticed through a micro- There is no measure equal importance is given to For everything. that the past itself suffers when history serves life and is directed by its end. ! always a very limited scope. as every one knows who has clearly realized the terrible consequences of mere desire for migration and adventure perhaps in or who watches the destiny of a nation whole peoples that has lost confidence in its earlier days. that does not merely justify but crown the present this is real historical sense. and is given up to a restless cosmopolitanism and an unceasing desire for — — The feeling of the tree that clings to its roots. to their bare mountain-side seems to be selfish and unreasonable but it is a healthy — unreason and of profit to the community.

who must always. but mummify it the top downward. It not to create it. and history's service to the past life be to undermine a further and higher life. having. grown old carries with it a demand for its own immortality. and the ancient congregation of pieties by a — ciple new it piety. or a political prinit seems presumptuous. from life. If the judgment of a people harden in this way. ^. even impious. style of plastic art and later. . if the historical sense no longer preserve then the tree dies.358 THE GERMAN CLASSICS The Greeks themselves admitted the archaic by the side of the freer and greater an enemy. and the foundation be not withered on which antiquarian history can alone take root with profit to life: yet there are dangers enough. but the the present. no certain instinct for it. the amount of reverence paid to it for generations whether — be a custom. The horrid spectacle is seen of the mad collector raking over all the dust-heaps of the past. if it become too powerful and invade the territories Even if this of the other methods. Thus it hinders the mighty impulse to a new deed and paralyzes the doer. learned habit persists without it and revolves complaisantly round its own centre. the life-history of such an ancient fact. unnaturally. did not merely tolerate the pointed nose and the cold mouth. life. For when one a mere insatiable curiosity for everything old: he often sinks so low as to be satisfied with devour table. and greedily from the bibliographical degeneration do not take place. and at last the roots themselves wither. the antiquarian habit may degrade a considerable talent. all the scraps that fall any food. unlike monumental history. a real spiritual need in him. He breathes a moldy air. style. only understands how to preserve and thus always undervalues the present growth. to replace it by a new fact. be grazing some piety or other. Antiquarian history degenerates from the moment that it no longer gives a soul and inspiration to the fresh life of : The spring of piety is dried up. but made them even a canon of taste. as The fact that has doer. a religious creed.

interrogate it remorselessly. new discipline and an ancient tradition. and finally condemn it. life. even for life.we cannot escape the fact that we spring from them. He would never have created it. needs sometimes its destruction. It is not justice that sits in judgment here. inherited nature and our knowledge. we are also the resultant of their errors..THE USE AND ABUSE OF HISTORY Here we the ' ' 359 of look- see clearly is to . a caste. Every past is worth condemning: this is the rule in mortal affairs. and crimes: it is impossible to shake off this chain. sultant of previous generations. which always contain a large measure of human power and human weakness. This is way which is also in the service of life. and all the under foot. " For if Justice herself delivered it. Man must have the strength to break up the past. It requires great strength to be nothing able to live and forget how far life and injustice are one. beside the other two. ' ' how necessary a third way man. by judging and annihilating the past. between a stern. the dim. it comes to a conflict between our innate. Though we condemn the errors and think we have escaped them. Its past is critically examined. but only itself. nor mercy that proing at the past critical claims the verdict insatiably desires ciful. for should the injustice of something ever become obvious a monopoly. The process is always dangerous. driving force that Its sentence is always unjust. in order to live. and apply it too. At best. and the men or the times that serve life in this way. — . if He had ever dreamed of heavy ordnance. are always dangerous For as we are merely the reto themselves and others. the knife are grimly trodden pieties put to its roots. passions. as it of knowledge though it would generally turn out the same. everything that is : never flows always unmerfrom a pure fountain born it then that should be born. Luther himself once said that the world only arose by an oversight of God. He must bring the past to the bar of judgment. The same life that needs forgetfulness. a dynasty for example the thing deserves to fall. is worthy of being destroyed better were : ' ' — — ' ' ' ' .

We stop too often at knowing the good without doing it. The clearness. and that every conquering " second nature " becomes a first. IV This is how history can serve life. All this is as simple as truth itself. always a dangerous attempt. which gives a strange consolation to the fighters. tion or have life and history really altered their conjuncand an inauspicious star risen between them? Others . antiquarian. . or the few who desire knowledge and can only be satisfied with knowledge but it has always a reference to the end of life. according to his objects. The consolation is the knowledge that this " first nature " was once a second. not to weaken the present or undermine a living future. and the second natures are generally weaker than the first. and purity of the connection between life and history has vanished. a culture and a people to history hunger . source. the inner plastic power knowledge of the past is only and quite convincing to " historical deduction. This is the natural relation of an age. Here and there the victory is won. any one who is not in the toils of is its its norm. whether it be through monumental. or critical history. that withers the that a new instinct. and we plant a new way of nature. powers. desired for the service of the future and the present." And now to take a quick glance at our time! We fly back in astonishment. naturalness. to those who use critical history for the sake of life. necessity The assigns its limits. It is an attempt past a posteriori from which as it is difficult we might spring. because we also know the better but cannot do it. and necessities. The need is not that of the mere thinkers who only look on at life. and in what a maze of exaggeration and contradiction do we now see the problem! Is the guilt ours who see it.360 THE GERMAN CLASSICS life. as against from which we do spring. to find a limit to the denial of the past. a second to gain a first. and is under its absolute rule and direction. Every man and nation needs a certain knowledge of the past.

and the reverse. Life is no more dominant. The perspective of events is blurred. to desire. modern men.THE USE AND ABUSE OF HISTORY may prove we have we believe 361 we see.the dangerous audacity of its motto — Veritas. memory opens all its gates and yet is never open wide enough. that " Fiat shows it with . generation has seen such a panoramic comedy as is shown " science of universal by the evolution." Let of the me modern man. more restless. as the And the rattle reveals the most striking fairy-tale has it. pereat vita. It becomes second nature to grow gradually accustomed to this irregular and stormy home-life. . and the conjunction — boundary marks are overthrown and everything bursts its limits. in order to escape destruction of one's self. even contrary Knowledge. he says. strange incoherencies come together." history. and knowledge of the past no longer its thrall: star. give a picture of the spiritual events in the soul Historical knowledge streams on him from sources that are inexhaustible. more radiThe modern man carries cally unsound than the first. . to honor them and put them in their places. I am merely saying what is such a star. inside him an enormous heap of indigestible knowledge: stones that occasionally rattle together in his body. taken in excess without hunger. and really altered the demand for history to be a science. But they are at war with each other violent measures seem necessary. characteristic of these thing inside them the opposition of someto which nothing external corresponds. has no more the effect of transforming the external life and remains hidden in a chaotic inner world that the modern man has a curious pride in calling his " real He has the substance. and only personality. and the blur No extends through their whole immeasurable course. . nature busies herself to receive all the foreign guests." wants the form but this is quite an unreal opposition in a Our modern culture is for that reason not a living thing. There seen falsely. though this second nature is unquestionably weaker. The ancient nations knew nothing of this. a bright and lordly is by science.

and all who see it hope that the education may not fail by being too indiImagine a Greek meeting it. " education " and " historical educathat for modern men tion seem to mean the same thing. The Greeks. The a wretched imitation.362 THE GERMAN CLASSICS it cannot be understood without that In other words. and sciences: we are wandering encyclopedias. the bookbinder prints something "Manual of internal culture for like this on the cover: The opposition of inner and outer external barbarians. as it would natu- . The " inner life " is now the only thing that matters to education. a complex of various thoughts and feelings about it. kind of knowledge about culture. For we moderns have nothing of our own. from which no decision as Its real motive force that issues to its direction can come. had the living one. he would probably find the Greeks " very uneducated. And if he spoke of his own theory." And that discovery would betray the closely guarded secret of modern culture to the laughter of the world. man probably feels like the snake that has swallowed a rabbit whole and lies still in the sun. he would observe gestible. people would shake their heads and think they had not heard aright. avoiding all movement not absolutely necessary. If a typical child of his age were transported to that world by some enchantment. what is written outside. arts. in the bind- And so the whole of modern culture is essentially internal. as an ancient Greek who had strayed into our time would probably call us. it is not a real culture but a opposition. because ' ' strongly developed in the period of their greatest power. that a man can be very well educated without any history at all. We only become worth notice by filling ourselves to overflowing with foreign customs. in the contents. But the only value of an encyclopaedia lies in the inside. in visible action is often no more than a mere convention. or even a shameless caricature." makes the outer side still more barbarous. religions. philosophies. with the difference that the one phrase is longer. not in ing or the wrapper. the famous people " unhistorical sense " of a past still near to us.

let him try to promote this higher unity first. But of both the . directly. and how it may recover its instincts with its. I am only speaking. If one wish to promote a people's culture. and if not hated. that can be neatly packed up in the cupboards of their memory. we get the feeble personality on which the real and the permanent make so little impression. justice unity of artistic style in every outward expression of the people's life. about the Germans of the present day. The culture of a people as against this barbarcan I described with as the " ism. until they have no longer any feeling for barbarism. is at any rate not loved. and there flow a constant stream of new things to be known." The people that can be called cultured.THE USE AND ABUSE OF HISTORY rally be. and work for the destruction of the modern educative system for the sake of a true education. and not be miserably cleft asunder into form and substance. Men become at last more careless and accommodating in external matters. Let him dare to consider how the health of a people that has been destroyed by history may be restored. "Form" generally implies for us some convention. — it aside and stamp it out at the first opportunity. must be in a real sense a living unity. to set Only one the outward growth of a rude people merely For what means has primitive inner needs. who have had to suffer more than other people from the feebleness of personality and the opposition of substance and form. be. and the considerable cleft between substance and form is widened. And so we have the custom of no longer taking real things seriously. think. as though it were merely a question of the opposition between barbarism and " fine style. honor." This must not be misunderstood. We have an extraordinary fear word convention and the thing. if only their memories be kept continually titillated. disguise or hypocrisy. and therefore more German. for he wished to become more natural. 363 when its developed nature of repressing too great a luxuriance from without? to be affected by it as little as possible. This fear drove the German from the French school.

earnest. and so may one day take the opportunity of vanishing. and no one notice its absence. fellow lives under French conventions that are actually incorrect his manner of walking shows it. shoddy. is regarded as an important contribution to German fashion. dress that made no head ache in its inventing and wasted no time in the making. with the smallest possible amount of self-control. any more than its presence before. Everything is colorless. his general way of life. his conversation : and dress. knot. It may in rare cases show itself finely receptive.' inwardness. Go through any German town. he merely followed caprice and comfort. One may think : the German people to be very far from danger yet the foreigner will have for his reproach that our inward life is too this some warrant weak and ill- organized to provide a form and external expression for itself. the inward but only a weak and crude attempt of a . it remains weak. First he ran away from his school of convention. taken as a whole. what he imitated So now the lazy painfully and often successfully before. you will see conventions that are nothing but the negative aspect of the national characteristics of foreign states. worn out. is But there also a famous danger in their " inward- ness ": the internal substance cannot be seen from the outside. richer perhaps than the inward life of other peoples: but. The sense of form the of ' ' ' ' is for they have ironically disclaimed by the people sense of substance they are famous for their cult ' ' : ' ' — . and powerful. borrowed from will is own sweet — which A — foreign models and imperfectly copied. Every one acts at his not a strong or serious will on laws dictated by the universal rush and the general desire for comfort. and went by any road he liked: he has come ultimately to imitate voluntarily in a slovenly fashion. and ill-copied.364 THE GERMAN CLASSICS ' ' he seems to have come to a false conclusion with his " therefore. as all its fine threads are not tied together in one strong The visible action is not the self-manifestation of life. In the belief that he was returning to Nature.

painted and rouged and disguised. . "We feel by theory. We Shakespeare has spoilt us moderns. its general application perhaps But how terrible it would be were too hastily assumed. servility fearful as if the inward life still sat there. would cut at the roots of any hope for a future national For every hope of that kind grows from the belief culture.THE USE AND ABUSE OF HISTORY 365 single thread to make a show of representing the whole." he says. hope or spring is muddied. and the inward quality has learned gestures and dances and the use of '* with due reflection cosmetics. and uneducated men whose inner life cannot is be approached at all? How should it exist." This is a single example. There would that generalization justified before our eyes ! We Germans feel be then a note of despair in the phrase. standing aside as he did from the main 11 press. — — — the quiet observer Grillparzer. hardly know any more how our contemporaries give expression to their feelings: we make them use gestures that are impossible nowadays." and gradually to lose itself? should a great productive spirit exist among a nation that belief. a phrase that we are all spoilt by history. And thus the German is not to be judged on any one action. when its not sure of its inward unity and is divided into educated men whose inner life has been drawn from the true path of education. raise the doubt whether as before. more than ever. has learned to express itself And how in abstract terms. when . I say. from Where is our the belief in an untarnished inward life. as his theatrical experience seems to have taught sible shrine." by theory. He must the famous inward It life is still really sitting in its inacces- might one day vanish and leave behind it with its vulgar pride and vain only the external life as Fearful thought! to mark the German. ' ' — in the genuineness and immediacy of German feeling. which are now expressed in his books if only the books did not. for the individual may be as completely obscure after it obviously be measured by his thoughts and feelings. become a play-actress or something worse.

" But to w hat means can he look? What remains to him now but his knowledge? He hopes to plant the feeling of a need. day arise. and ends his days as a lonely philos- wisdom of disillusion. a pro- found insight into fate in exchange for the godlike desire of creation and help. it is useless for them to stretch their arms out to him in yearning. but that is no compensation it tortures a man to have to speak only to one section and be no longer in sympathy with his people. " and say to himself Help must come: the higher unity in the nature and soul of a people must be brought back. inward life and convention. . that it is German unity in its highest sense which is the goal of our endeavor. The though his heart be filled with tenderness for all. far more than political union: it is the unity of the German spirit and life after the annihilation of the antagonism between form and substance. in disgust at the vulgar patronage of a class. my testimony shall stand. And to leave no doubt of the instance I am taking of the need and the knowledge. giving it freely with both From the strong need the strong action may one hands. He would rather bury his treasure now. strike at the barrier raised by the so-called culture. the cleft between inner and outer must again disappear under the hammer of necessity. instinct of the people can no longer meet him half-way.366 THE GERMAN CLASSICS the people has lost its own unity of feeling. and condemn as judge what blasted and degraded him as a living man and a source of life? He takes. by speaking from opher. is false and hypocritical? Here and there the and taste of individuals may be higher and finer judgment than the rest. What remains but to turn his quickened hatred : against the ban. and knows that the feeling of the part calling itself the educated part and claiming the right of controlling the artistic spirit of the nation. with the : — r the breadth of that knowledge. It is the painfullest comedy he who sees it will feel a sacred obligation on him.

. From " Human. owing to the embarrassment resulting from the lack of grace and wit.All-Too-Human" 250 (Part 7)f (feerman f ANNERS. which must appear as necessary and simply natural because they are intentions and principles. gestures and social expressions. there will then be company manners. xrifc^^fl fk (glassies =s f ' ^ . have to be borrowed. peasant-like honesty. which grows visibly more vulgar. Thus the public ceremonious meeting of men appears ever more clumsy. T ^}lose w h ijave an e y e f or public a^e behavior. But must there always be a decline in manners? It appears to me. rather. When society has become sure of its intentions and principles. Zimmern. that manners take a deep curve and that we are approaching their lowest point. edited by Dr. hence arises the ludicrous fact that in cases where we must render actual homage (to a great statesman or artist. [367] . so that they have a molding effect (the manners we have learnt from former molding conditions are now inherited and always more weakly learnt). New York. — Good manners m> *==^= 1 disappear in proas the influence of a Court and an portion ^exclusive aristocracy lessens. t Translated by Helen ( Authorized English Permission The Macmillan Co. but more full of feeling and honesty without really being so. Oscar Levy. for instance). No one any longer knows how to court and flatter intelligently. The better division of time and work. This decrease can be plainly observed from decade to deca x.APHORISMS * By Friedrich Nietzsche 7. the gymnastic exercise transformed into the accompaniment of * From The Complete Works of Friedrieh Nietzsche Translation). the words of deepest feeling. of simple.

and art. that greatest of all sources of pleasure. not wear the best expression or show the most pleasing behavior? 251 The Future of Science. spiritless methods. spirit may be willing enough. just as we have long ceased to take pleasure in learning the admirable Now if science goes on giving less multiplication table. and as such are themselves antiquated. very little. they are physically. Here. the new spirit that occasionally inhabits these old often three-fourths mentally. increased and severer meditation. . and are half worldly priests and half dependent educators of the upper classes. becomes impoverished. In them there dwell the ghosts of the past as w ell as the ghosts of the future what wonder if they do 7 . in her. although their better manners. and still the courtiers of an old. two brain-chambers. and consider w hether. dwellings often serves only to make them more uncertain and frightened. In any case. science gives — To him who works and seeks much pleasure — to him who learns her facts. even this small amount of pleasure ceases. their flesh is weak. indeed. they still stand in the fettered position. as a matter of fact. pleasure in herself. one to feel science and the other to feel non-science. and always takes more pleasure in throwing suspicion on the consolations of metaphysics. and besides this they have been rendered crippled and lifeless of culture is by the pedantry of science and by antiquated. they who wish to be regarded as the forerunners of that new culture are distinguished by their This is hardly the case. will bring all this in its train. even antiquated culture.368 all THE GERMAN CLASSICS beautiful leisure. But as all important truths of science must gradually become commonplace and everyday matters. Therefore a higher culture must give man a double brain. we might think with a smile of our scholars. therefore. which brings wisdom and suppleness even to the body. The past T still too powerful in their muscles. which can religion. to which mankind owes almost its whole humanity. so to speak.

the ruin of science: the relapse into barbarism is the next result. destroyed it during the night. the further course of human development can almost what is the interest in certainly be foretold: true ceases as it guarantees less pleasure. they are then all on fire for it. To have an opinion is with them equivalent to immediately becoming fanatical for it. Clever people may learn as much results of science. divisible. In one part lies the source of strength.APHORISMS lie 369 by side. and imagination reconquer step by step the ancient territory. scientific methods are at least as important any other results. all the results of science could not prevent the renewed prevalence of superstition and absurdity. as they like of the notices in their conver- distrust of the devious courses of thinking which. illusion. passions. because they are united to pleasure. a necessity of health. mankind must begin to weave its web afresh after having. and if the methods were lost. has taken root in the soul of every scientific man. exclusive. for the scien- spirit is based upon a knowledge of method. But who will assure us that it will always find the necessary strength for this? 635 On tific results of investigation as the whole. and finally taking it to heart as a conviction. and imagine the matter is thereby settled. onesidedncsses. and especially in the hypotheses they make. but one still sation. error. XV — 24 . In the case of an unexplained matter they become heated for the first idea that comes into their head which has any resemblance to an explanation a course — Vol. it must be heated with illusions. in the other lies the regulator. If this necessity of the higher culture is not satisfied. that they lack the scientific spirit they have not the instinctive . and the side this is malicious and dangerous consequences of overheating must be averted by the help of conscious science. in consequence of long training. like Penelope. It is enough for them to find any kind of hypothesis on a subject. without confusion.

especially when these have the appearance of ent . The former want to be forcibly carried away in order thereby to obtain an increase of strength. All the surplus exists in modern humanity. B. On that account everybody should nowadays have become thoroughly acquainted with at least one science. as to those who being witty. and that only a small minority want certainty. Indeed. who greatly predominate. enlivening. the wooer thereof. are always reckoned upon when the thinker comports himself and labels himself as a genius. and how necessary is the extremest carefulness.A. II. To women in particular this advice is to be given at presare irretrievably the victims of all hypotheses. like an imaginative political economist. and arouses distrust of the cautious and modest spirit of science. .All-Too-Human " 99 as Guide to still (Part II)* The Poet poetical force that the Future. Nor should this be so — done as if the poet. however it may think itself also. it is an enemy of truth. should (without any be devoted to a definite goal not to depicting deduction) the present nor to reviving and summarizing the past. and thus views himself as a higher being to whom authority belongs. and invigorating. but is — not used under our conditions of life. attractive.370 THE GERMAN CLASSICS results constantly follow. had to anticipate a more favorable national and social state •Translated by Paul V. In so far as genius of this kind upholds the ardor of convictions. but to pointing the way to the future. From " Human. for then surely he knows what is meant by method. on close inspection one sees that by far the greater number of educated people still desire convictions from a thinker and nothing but convictions. especially from which the worst in the field of politics. Cohn. the latter few have the real interest which disregards personal advantages and the increase of strength The former class.

APHORISMS 371 of things and picture their realization. the background on which the delicate differences of the embodied ideals : — would make the majesty. innate moderation in the personalities and their action: a leveled soil. the Goethe honored as the freest spirit of his century. from Goethe. portray the fair images of men. gentleness. the soul. visible. Many real picture. He will divine those cases where. purity. Rather will he. where it may become permanent. and enticing from contrasts the grace of seriousness. the scornful laughter and gnashing of teeth. giving rest and pleasure to the foot a shining heaven mirrored in faces and events: science and art welded into a : new unity the mind living together with her sister. Strength. The poems of such a poet would be distinguished by» appearing secluded and protected from the heated atmosphere of the passions. man whom May . and representative of a type. who unscrupulously represent the halfanimal and the immaturity and intemperance that are mistaken by them for power and naturalness. — In a book for free spirits one cannot avoid mention of Laurence Sterne. noble soul is still possible. would appear by the side of this new art as mere archaic lumber. and all tragedy and comedy in the usual old sense. and an unsought. a blurring of the outlines of the world-picture. in the midst of our modern world and reality (which will not be shirked or repudiated in the usual poetic fashion). kindness. that of ever-growing human roads to this poetry of the future start the quest needs good pathfinders and a far greater strength than is possessed by modern poets. The irremediable failure. without arrogance or jealousy. by the stimulus to imitation and envy. but above all 113 The Freest Writer. not the impatience of discord all this would be the general environment. a great. the shattering of all the strings of the human instrument. and so. equable conditions. just as the earlier poets portrayed the images of the gods. help to create the future. where it may be embodied in harmonious.

Sterne unexpectedly changes the parts. sense than is commonly done when one applies it to sexual relations. It is strangely instructive to see so great a writer as Diderot has affected this double entendre of Sterne's to be equally ambiguous throughout is just the Sternian super-humor. We may give up for lost the reader who always wants to know exactly what Sterne thinks about a matter. Sterne is the great master of double this phrase being naturally used in a far wider entendre. ridicule. We must surrender at discretion to the mood of Sterne. a He. a theatre audience before another theatre audience. he can be and even wishes to be right and wrong at the same moment. to interweave profundity and farce). — iste? admire. His digressions are at once continuations and further developments of the story. his — book being like a play within a play. the most versatile of writers. although we can always expect how it to be gracious. and downright boorisli In his case we should not speak of the clear and rounded stiff. or parody Sterne in his Jacques le FatalOne cannot be exactly certain. his maxims contain a satire on all that is sententious. communicates something of this versatility to his reader. and is often as much reader as author. and this uncertainty was perhaps intended by the author. his dislike of seriousness is bound up with a disposition to take no matter merely externally and on the surface. lying. thrust aside and transferred to the realm of the indefinite. So in the proper reader he arouses a feeling of uncertainty whether he be walking. Did Diderot imitate. or standing. and whether he be making a serious or a smiling face (for he can do both with one wrinkling of his features. feeling most closely akin to that of floating in the air. Yes. This very doubt makes the French unjust to the work of one of their first . ! appear but of " the endless melody " if by this phrase we arrive at a name for an artistic style in which the definite form is continually broken. intolerant.372 THE GERMAN CLASSICS writer of be be satisfied witb tbe bonor of being called the freest all times. so that it signifies one and the other at the same time. in comparison with whom all others squaretoed.

and in the midst of the joys of a grotesque and even corrupt imagination he showed the bashful grace of innocence.APHORISMS 373 masters. age. he had sat on every seat. feature. He was — — 118 Herder. such untrammeled wit penetrating into every vein and muscle. think he Herder fails to be was and himself wished — all that he to think he was. comprehensiveness. aimed at and attained in prose opposite of what Sterne aims at and attains. But he possessed in the highest degree the power of scenting the future. What the worthy Frenchmen. Such a carnal and spiritual hermaphroditism. UnfortuSterne the man seems to have been only too closely nately related to Sterne the writer. toward humor itself) the French necessary to add that of all great the worst model. reserve. no newly fertile soil with the unexhausted strength of a virgin forest. is the very He raises himself as a masterly exception above all that artists in writing demarfd of themselves propriety. The unrest of . depressions. and before them some Greeks authors Sterne and Romans. youth and like a hunter on the watch. steadfastness of purpose. looking every- where for transitions. His squirrel-soul sprang with insatiable unrest from branch to branch he knew what lies between sublimity and rascality. made them grow. in fact the inimitable and that even Diderot had to pay for his daring? author. character. if language does not revolt from such a combination of a hard-hearted kindness. made people He was no great thinker or discoverer. one who need not be ashamed of comparison with any of the ancients or moderns. always with unabashed watery eyes and mobile play of spicuity. his mind was and they then believed that he had Between darkness and light. convulsions. the outward and visible signs of internal growth. . was perhaps never possessed by any other man. For humor (and especially for this humorous is attitude Is it are too serious. he saw and picked the first-fruits of the seasons earlier than all others. per- — good deportment in gait and feature.

He seems to have lived long as a pretender to several kingdoms or even to a uniHe had his following which believed in versal monarchy. and smokes He did not sit at the great flame which never broke out. Just when he doubted in himself. he gladly clothed himself in dignity and enthusiasm these were often in him mere garments. stalwart man" classical liness more completely than any of the so-called . Goethe. indeed. him. the ambitious yet — priest. Thus he was a restless spirit. combined in one . and smoked tiently but he yearned for his style flickers. which flickered. which were collected by the Germans from every quarter and every age in the course of half a century. and hypocrisy ill. But whenever crowns were really distributed. and then at He always had an air of being her visit as well. and he lacked simple. crackles. which had to hide a great deal and also to He really had fire and enthudeceive and comfort him. It blew impabut his ambition was far greater! siasm." HI. and his ambition did not admit of his sitting modestly among those who simply enjoy. but he was himself not the At times. at the fire. qualities. — — writers. paid scarred and crippled. M. concern for one's good reputation: these three Translated by J. Kennedy. crackled. Kant.374 THE GERMAN CLASSICS spring drove him to and fro. he was passed over. From " The Dawn 199 of Dai/ "* We Are Nobler. and then the first true German historians and scholars robbed him of what he thought he had reserved for himself (although in silence and secret he often thought the reverse). he had some inkling of this. of his epoch who would have ! so gladly been the intellectual pope This is his despair. the taster of all intellectual dishes. — Fidelity. among others the young Goethe. generosity. would fain not have believed it he. Herder was also too often times envy sat by his bed. Never really happy and satisfied. and spring. the table of the genuine creators.

We do not wish to give threatened with a stick by another officer in the presence of the entire general staff. but listen to me!" tocles.APHORISMS sentiment.. consider also the tale of that Athenian officer. or from valuing the preservation of an unstained name (honor) more than the acquirement of an evil reputation. — from Rutov. who was just the man at the moment of disgrace to address to " that verse of comfort and his " dear heart affliction. shameless. . " a dog. but we wish cautiously to substitute new objects for these most precious and hereditary impulses. influenced by a hereditary spirit of chivalric adventurousness and self-devotion. horrible. my dear heart." Translator. 375 any cost under the pretext that the ancient objects of these virtues have rightly fallen in esteem. aristocratic and in we excel the Greeks. Strike. Thou hast borne with many more swinish things* than these As an instance of this mythical example. . bear with it! situations. shook off his disgrace with the " (This was Themiswords. To understand why the sentiments of the noblest Greek. where we are still under the influence of the chivalric and feudal nobility. " TirXa0i 3rj t Ka^apdtrj ftal kovrepov lit. when the latter was compatible with glory and the feeling of power. i. must be considered as inferior and scarcely respectable in the present age. when ' ' ! this respect this up at we call noble.. we must recall the words of consolation to which Ulysses gave utterance in the midst of the most humiliating " Bear with it. audacious. xx.e. as in duels. remaining faithful to the prejudices and the articles of when these could prevent them from becomFor this is the ignoble secret of the good ing tyrants. Kuvrepos. or from looking for opportunities of honorably risking life and death. who. that ingenious Ulysses of the classical epoch. distinguished. 18: etc." Odyssey. are in the habit of doing. as we. more dog- .) The Greeks were far from making light of life and death because of an insult. Greek aristocrat out of sheer jealousy he treats every one of the members of his caste as being on an equal footing : * The reference It-At?? is to the ak\o nor* like. or from faith of a caste.

they do not appear to get tired after standing at Court for hours at a stretch. they do not furnish their houses in a comfortable manner. — moment to spring What matter lies. the worship of the State could not. When how- — Socrates. scandalized.376 THE GERMAN CLASSICS like with himself. have been too deeply implanted men whose desire for power does not rage so blindly as that of the Greek noblemen no longer stand in need of such idolatry of the State. " the saint " was to the Christians. crushed. of but I think that course. men fascinating game. as if they had to serve to a as a residence for greater and taller beings. justice was almost something " The Just man " was to the Greeks what incredible. by means of which. — 201 The "Future tocratic classes of the Nobility." they could not trust their ears. ' ' The most virtuous man is the happiest. they avoid reclining at their ease. they thought they had heard a madman speaking. when every one else makes himself comfortable. or the betrayal of his native city to him Justice was an extremely difficult matter for people of this kind to understand nay. ever. shamed. treason. — The bearing of the arisall is shows that in the members of their body continually playing its Thus people of aristocratic habits. in past ages. such a passion was kept within due bounds. as in a train. laid down the axiom. but he is ready at every a tiger on its prey despotism. as a picture of the happiest man. As the aristocrat is able to pre- and not as if . never sink worn out into a chair. Among people whose imagination secretly raved about such happiness. ! murders. they reply provoking speech with dignity and clearness of mind. or out of breath in the plebeian fashion. or women. For. every nobleman had in his mind the cheeky audacity and devilry of the tyrant who sacrifices everything and every one to his own exuberance and pleasure. but in such a way as to produce the impression of something grand and imposing. for the consciousness of power example.

APHORISMS 377 serve the appearance of being possessed of a superior physical force which never leaves him. and if very often in of its customs only the appearance of the feeling required. nevertheless the real sense of superiority continues constantly to increase as the result of the impression which this display makes upon those who are power is not aristocrats. and where they look up to that ideal of victorious wisdom which as yet no age has been able to set before itself with so good a conscience as the period which is about to dawn. to such a degree that both horse : and rider come near losing their heads. where they may secure more intellectual consecrations and learn chivalric services even higher than those of former times. thanks to the free spirits. do keep very clear heads in both these cases this aristocratic culture breathes power. so far as passions are concerned. owing to the enjoyment of the delight. it is henceforth permissible and not dishonorable for people who have been born and reared in aristocratic circles to enter the domain of knowledge. A noble culture may resemble. for he obeys whenever he can. for now. even in the most trying circumstances. either a horseman who takes pleasure in making his proud and fiery animal trot in the Spanish we have only to recollect the age of Louis XIV. to convey the impression that his mind and soul are equal to all dangers and surprises. is now beginning to rise to ever higher levels. is capable of great things. fashion — — or like the rider like the who feels his horse dart away with him elemental forces. This indisputable happiness of aristocratic culture. but he is unlikely to accomplish them. Lastly. he likewise wishes by his aspect of constant serenity and civility of disposition. as suits a naturally The Attitude —A . what is to be the occupation of the nobility in the future if it and less becomes more evident from day to day that indecorous to take any part in politics? 207 it is less German of the Germans to Morality. but. based as it is on the feeling of superiority.

378 lazy intellect. : : — delights in the novelty of his new position as if it were some intoxicating drink. when he finds having it no longer possible to disappear like a cipher in a number or an (in which respect he is far inferior to a Frenchman he shows his true strength: then he becomes Englishman). and audacious. though even here he has the advantage and prejudice of thoroughness and seriousness. and to change perThose sons. It thus happens that the German day is almost always frivolous in politics. dangerous. he is afraid of depending upon himhe is afraid of taking the initiative that is why Germany uses up so many officials and so much ink. evil. he is too timid for it but in entirely new situations which rouse him from he then his torpor he exhibits an almost frivolous spirit As a rule. who hitherto have been considered as the most German of Germans. Lightheartedness is a stranger to the German. do and endurance with which he obeys his prince and performs his official duties so that. and he is. and in which no one. although he may take of the present advantage of these qualities in negotiations with other political powers. self alone. THE GERMAN CLASSICS If he is ever in the to stand alone dangerous situation of and cast aside his sloth. : ' ' position however. profound and almost childish inclination to obey in all external things. and exhibits to the light of day that wealth of latent energy which he had previously carried hidden in himself. deep. had ever believed. not even himself. he is then capable weak disof great things which bear no relation to the " he attributes to himself. and on account of being often compelled . as we know. inflexibility. and. were and perhaps still are as good as the German soldiers on account of their able for once in his life to feel enthusiastic to show his fondness for innovations. and hopes as if they were masks. he nevertheless rejoices inwardly at being full and capricious. as I have said. When in such a case a German obeys himself so — he — it is very exceptional for him to does so with the same heaviness. learned German scholars. parties. quite a connoisseur in intoxication.

Well: when people of this type occupy themselves with morals. and patient they and their freedom from political madness at those times when the wind changes. a German deduction it is the basis is course with these Germans — . including even their learned men. when we compare of all different is the im- this with the entire morality of the ancient world! All those Greek thinkers. however varied they may appear to us. seem to resemble. for example. to believe than any and always have been. have been that they were. they will wish to see idealized in " Man their morals their sincere instinct for obedience. thing great it was done at a time of danger. — were. we may yet expect such as they are or such as they great things from them disposition. is German enthusiasm indeed advisable. worth less than that of other for it is barren. what precisely will be the morality that will satisfy them % In the first place. When a German ever did anynations.APHORISMS to stand alone in science if 379 : and to answer for many things can only preserve their proud. and is as self-destructive as the passions of the drunkard. the excessive use of music and spirits). or rather recover it (for he is very untidy in storing away his knowledge). with his teeth firmly set and his prudence on the alert. more given and showed greater eagerness of the other nations. as moralists. and often enough in a fit of generosity. or when his courage was high. How pression. however. German moral teaching. simple. which is easily tempted to throw away the reins). InterIndeed. their drunkenness and suicidal to superstition inclinations (the latter a proof of the clumsiness of their intellect. the gymnastic teacher who encourages his . they are the embryonic stage of something higher. if we can only understand how to make him find it. must have something which he can implicitly obey " this is a German sentiment. for the German passion acts contrarily to its own advantage. for almost every one of them has something to give. their vices are. Their danger is to be sought in everything that binds down the faculties of reason and unchains the passions (as. So far the advantages and disadvantages of the Germans.

or idea. said that there surely must be a being in whom man could trust implicitly it was his of the existence of God it was his wish. obedience. whether public pupils by saying. as happens now and then. the more so as there is now less worship left in his religion. and said nil admirari: in this phrase he saw reflected all philosophy. A German. man. : actuated by the same impulse." and to retain in their inmost heart a trace of scepticism against all and every one. Submission. worship of the German. Long before Kant set forth his doctrine of the Categorical Imperative. viz.. that people should implicitly obey a person and not an idea. . follow me Then perhaps you may carry off the prize from cipline! all the other Greeks. ! or private such is German virtue. whether God. This is indeed the — . and would have laughed at such a being:" it is part of the boldness of their Southern nature to take up a stand against " implicit belief. goes so far in the contrary direction as to say: admirari id est philosophari. he invariably raises himself above morals And why should he not? Now he either himhas something new to do.380 THE GERMAN CLASSICS ' ' Submit to my disCome. Luther. and Kant also finally took his roundabout route through morals merely that he might secure obedience for the person. the German should attain to that state of mind which would enable him to perform great things? If the hour of exception comes. the hour of disobedience! I do is right in saying that the single the Germans have over other nations is that advantage there are more atheists among them than elsewhere but I not think Schopenhauer ." Personal distinction: such was the virtue of antiquity. But what if. do know this: whenever the German reaches the state in which he is capable of great things. Schopenhauer. The Greeks and Romans had other opinions on these " there must be matters. The thinker of antiquity went even further. to command self or others! But this German morality of his has not Commanding has been fortaught him how to command ! — ! gotten in it. coarser and proof more popular than that of Kant.

" there will. just as they depreciate the joy which the lunatic derives from his fixed idea. one cannot see through all walls jealous of the noble person. — — When they are all too plainly conbackstair methods. be some advantage " they are therefrom. and the fear of being deprived of this delight. dominate it exclusively. and irrational.APHORISMS IV. To ignoble natures all noble. no doubt. magnanimous. and seem inclined to say. vinced of the absence of selfish intentions and emoluments. . likewise. impulses with the ignoble nature the higher nature is more parison : self-sacrific- ing person succumbs in fact to his impulses. as if he sought advantage by . which at the risk of life protects its young. or in the female. impulse not to be tempted to inexpedient activities by its In comthat is its wisdom and inspiration. because its delight in its young. and on that account first and foremost. with disadvantage! It must be a disease of the reason with which the noble affection is associated. does not think of the risk and the death its reason pauses . and they look depreciatingly thereon. and in his An animal. and that this thought of the end and advantage is even stronger than its strongest — — for the noble. The ignoble nature is distinguished by the fact that it keeps its advantage steadily in view. and laugh at the lustre " How can a of his eye. magnanimous sentiments appear inexpedient. or in the pairing season follows the female where it meets with death." — so they think. it becomes stupider than at other times. like * Translated by Thomas Common. person rejoice at being at a dishow can a person with open eyes want to meet advantage. as incredible: they blink with their eyes when they hear of such matters. best moments his reason lapses altogether. 381 From " The Joyful Wisdom >> # Noble and Ignoble. the noble person is regarded by them as a kind of fool: they despise him in his gladness.

or perverse is brain also. and as his heart then goes into his head.382 the noble and THE GERMAN CLASSICS magnanimous person. and . especially when it concentrates ujDon objects whose value appears to him to be altogether fantastic and arbitrary. He is offended to the passion of the belly. exceptional matters. it and one hence- (Here and there to be sure. and that " one This it will not recognize the tiling needful for it. It is very rarely that a higher nature has so much reason over and above as to understand and deal with everyday men as such for the most part it believes in its passion as if it were the concealed passion of every one. it is mostly of the belief that it has not a singular standard of value in its idiosyncrasies of taste it rather sets up its values and non-values as the generally valid values and non-values. the higher nature has a singular standard of value. Besides. and thus becomes incomprehensible and impracticable. . to whom some one once laid the hand on the heart with the words. were the " reverse of pas- sion." the antithesis to this. for example. He possesses feelings of pleasure and pain of such intensity that the intellect must either be silent before them. how can they ever understand the ignoble natures Thus it is that they also and estimate average men fairly speak of the folly. ignoble my dearest friend. . for example." presents itself. but he understands the allurement which here plays the tyrant. and precisely If then in this belief it is full of ardor and eloquence. such exceptional men do not perceive themselves as exceptions.") reason of passion. inexpediency and fantasy of mankind." ! is the eternal unrighteousness of noble natures. people. which the despises in the noble individual. or yield itself to their service : forth speaks of " passions. to things which usually do not affect seem to have no sweetness. full of astonishment at the madness of the world. " What you have there. It is the unreason. at man him who succumbs but he does not understand. in Fontenelle. how a person out of love of knowledge can stake his health and honor on the The taste of the higher nature devotes itself to game.

and strong. pure hearts. by whom it can get rid of its " comsecrets. and sacrificed for its good they themselves believe themselves sacrificed to God. who lives and must live continually in the storm-cloud of the highest problems and the : — — ' ' heaviest responsibilities (consequently. and country-parson meekness. and he who has "confessed" forgets). chaste. Here there exists a great need: for sewers and pure cleansing waters are required also for spiritual filth. that the praise falls due in the popular veneration of wis- type of men — namely.APHORISMS 351 383 In Honor of Priestly Natures. wisdom. it is to them priestly natures and those related to them. object- The people venerate an entirely different type of man when on their part they form the ideal of a " sage. bovine placidity. simple. and rapid currents of love are needed. securely. serious. who qualify and sacrifice them- — — selves for such service of the non-public health department for it is a sacrificing. piety. before whom the people can pour forth its heart with impunity. and worse things (for the man who " municates himself gets rid of himself. not gazing at all. but are persons consecrated. which lies in the meadow and this is probably gazes at life seriously and ruminatingly because philosophers have not had sufficiently the taste of " or of the the country-parson for that kind of people. And to whom should the people ever have more reason to be grateful than to these men who pertain to its class and rise from its ranks. — dom. I think that philosophers have always felt themselves farthest removed from that which the people (in all classes of society nowadays) take for wisdom: the prudent. to say nothing of doing so indifferently. something of the great passion of the thinker. the priest is. will also perhaps be the latest to Philosophers acknowledge that the people should understand something of that which lies farthest from them." and they are a thousand times justified in rendering homage with the highest eulogies and honors to precisely that ively). the gentle. cares. lowly. chosen. and continues — .

it Such was the of course be demolished all at once. the is now fighting its last a long and solidly built work as Christianity could not last construction of the Romans! tions." and they already scent ''the " in this It was very belief and superstition. digs. because. "Who would desire to relation to their own unreliability. or essence of a Church. already lie on the where were there ever finer ground. however. serious men of " reliable " in as men who have become sages.We Europeans find view of an immense world of ruins." and is priest also is still held to belong to the not regarded as a sage. not distrustful enough to do so? In any case the structure . every sort of earthquake had to shake it. deprive the people of that expression and that veneration? But as is fair on the other side." that sacrificed. as is to say. THE GERMAN CLASSICS a human sacrifice. they themselves The people regard such do not believe in " sages. . large and small.iiid molders had to assist in the work of destruction. It is the ruins? overgrown Church which is this city of decay: we see the religious organization of Christianity shaken to its deepest founda- — — God is overthrown. gnaws.. It seems that the Germans do — Are they not spiritual enough. . 358 The Peasant Revolt ourselves in things still the Spirit. But . picturesque enough with weeds. have the Gerbeen precisely those who did most to destroy it not understand the mans. The belief in belief in the Christian ascetic ideal — — fight. where most things. people " modesty which invented in Greece the word philosopher. every sort of spirit which perforates. while other objects stand moldering and dismal. that which is strangest is that those who have exerted themselves most to retain and preserve Christianity. . among philosophers the " people. silent." and left to the play-actors of the spirit gance of assuming the name ' ' wise ' ' — the superb modesty the arroof such monsters of pride and self-glorification as Pythagoras and Plato. above all. where some of — tower aloft.384 to be. " faith " as " wise.


Ivea rro- THE GUARDIAN OF THE GARDEN OF LOVE inting by Uan< Thomo. .



they mis- — ' ' ' ' — understood the»noble scepticism. He gave the sacred books into the hands of every one. he tore asunder with honest rage. does the conception of ** the Church " He gave back to the priest sexual interretain its power.APHORISMS of the 385 Church rests on a southern freedom and liberality of spirit. and imprudent — and above all. merely became involuntarily and unconsciously He unravthe commencement of a work of destruction. It is precisely here that the Vol. rests on the belief that an exceptional man in this respect will also be an exceptional man in other respects. he was fatally short. the — He demolannihilators of every belief based upon books. and spirit. in which much is to be forgiven. and all the instincts for power. superficial. in that he repudithe Church ished the conception of ' ' ' ' ated the belief in the inspiration of the Councils : for only under the supposition that the inspiring spirit which had founded the Church still lives in it. still goes on building its house. entirely different from what the north has The Lutheran Reformation in all its length and had. sighted. qualities so that his work. still builds it. One overlooks the fact readily enough at that as regards all cardinal questions concerning present power Luther was badly endowed. honest misunderstanding. thing complicated. and only saw corruption. the luxury of scepticism and toleration which every victorious self-confident power permits. and similarly on a southern suspicion of nature. had woven longest and most carefully. people did not understand the mode of expression of a victorious Church. it rests on a knowledge of man. they thereby got at last into the hands of the philologists. breadth was the indignation of the simple against someTo speak cautiously. that is to say. man. popular belief in something super- xv — 25 . where the old spider eled. as a man sprung from the people. an experience of man. his intention to restore the work of the Romans. it was a coarse. course: but three-fourths of the reverence of which the people (and above all the women of the people) are capable. . . he lacked all the hereditary of a ruling caste.

and a grave for secrets. and of profundity. there was concealed in Luther the ' and the rule of profoundest hatred of higher men — ' ' and bad." If people wish to ascribe to the Reformation in the last instance the merit of having prepared and favored that which we at present honor as " modern science. in the saving God in practically did away with a the Christian priest himself. namely. or natured. a peasant insurrection. good ' ' " their bucolic slyness. As a matter of fact. Luther disowned an ideal which he did not know how to attain. and its " naturalness." as the Church had conceived them. Every man his own priest ' ' " — behind such formula? and ' higher men. As to all that grew out of his Reformation afterward. in a miracle. a wife to the priest." they must of course add that it is also accessory to bringing about the degeneration of the modern scholar with his lack of reverence. whose profoundest a sacred ear. in short for the . its belief in the right to freedom. of shame. if . who would be naive enough to praise or blame Luther simply on account of these results? He is innocent of all. and that it is also responsible for all naive candor and spirit shallower. he knew not what he did. its thirst for independence. The art of making the European — more goodwould rather hear it designated by a people moral expression. while he seemed to combat and detest the degeneration thereof. that was psychologically right: but thereby he man. the impossible monk. he consequently brought about precisely the same thing within the ecclesiastical social order that he combated so impatiently in the civic order. has After Luther had its most subtle and insidious advocate. he. which can at present be almost counted up. especially in the north. repudiated the rule of the homines religiosi. " utility has ever consisted in his being silent well. undoubtedly took a clever step in advance in the Lutheran Reformation and similarly there grew out of it the mobility and disquietude of the spirit. he had to take from him auricular given confession.386 THE GERMAN CLASSICS in human man. plain-dealing in matters of knowledge.

and still more owing to Napoin modern ideas. talents. which has built itself its greatest monument Church. and would not have existed without him. 362 My Belief in the Virilizing of Europe. consequently. one will one day be able to attribute the fact that man in Europe has again got the upper hand of the merchant and the Philistine. a Church is State and especially. Through this alone the Church is under all circumstances a nobler institution than the State. war at and popular. in contrast to every above all an authoritative organization which secures to the ' ' in the Christian ' ' : most spiritual men the highest rank. which had in view the " fraternity " of the nations. on the grandest scale (as regards means. and the florid interchange of good graces among people generally) that several warlike centuries. who saw ' ' ' ' something like a personal enemy.APHORISMS 387 plebeianism of the spirit which is peculiar to the last two centuries. to which all coming millenniums will look back with envy and awe as for the national movement out of a work of perfection which this martial glory springs. century. ' ' ' ' more ambiguous. . perhaps even of "woman" also. has by this hostility proved himself one of the greatest continuators of the tion. this peasant insurrection of the north against the colder. Let us not forget in the end what a Church is. and discipline). which have not had their like in short. is only the counter-c/ioc against Napoleon. more suspicious spirit of the south. and from which even pessimism hitherto has not Modern ideas also belong to in any way delivered us. — We owe it to Napoleon (and not at all to the French Revolution. and believes in the power of spirituality so far as to forbid all grosser appliances of authority. and accordingly in civilizaleon. who has become pampered owing to Christianity and the extravagant spirit of the eighteenth modern ideals. : — To him. in past history. may now follow one another — that the we have entered upon same time scientific the classical age of war.

I will never admit that we should speak of equal rights in the love of man and woman there are no such equal rights. as one knows. when he loves a woman. which mistress of the world. without any reservation. who loves like a woman becomes thereby a more perfect woman. 363 was to be Sex has Its Prejudice about Love. . without any motive. he is consequently. and it belongs to the conditions of love in both sexes that the one sex does not presuppose the same feel" ing. Notall the concessions which I am inclined to withstanding make to the monogamic prejudice. In this absence of conditions her love is precisely a faith. own rights presupposes in fact that there does not exist on the other side an equal pathos. ." in the other sex. the block of granite. farthest removed from the prerequisites of feminine love. Man. that there should also be men to whom on their for complete devotion is not unfamiliar. wanted one Europe. rather with shame and terror at the thought of a devotion restricted by clauses is : clear or associated with conditions. woman has no other. however. And who knows but that this block of ancient character will in the end get the upper hand of the national movement. are really not men. wants precisely this love from her. an equal desire for renunciation: for if both renounced themselves out of tion of its . they side the demand — — A woman becomes thereby a slave. The passion of woman in its unconditional renuncia. as regards himself. granted. and will have to make itself in a positive sense the heir and continuator of Napoleon: — who. a woman. the same conception of love. however. : How Each — — What woman understands by love enough complete surrender (not merely devotion) of soul and body. The reason is that man and woman understand something different by the term love. man who loves like a well.388 THE GERMAN CLASSICS Renaissance: he has brought to the surface a whole block of the ancient character. the decisive block perhaps.

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spasm. or else intoxication. but nevertheless. who seek repose. struggling But life they always presuppose suffering and sufferers. in view of its overflowing wealth. and the sensualists. quietness. there are two kinds of sufferers: on the one hand those that suffer from overflowing vitality. most precious. themselves through art or knowledge. may not only allow himself the spectacle of the horrible and questionable. bewilderment. and dangerous mode of prodigality. the age of Hume. as may be reasonably conceded to me). Condillac. It is obvious that I then misunderstood what constitutes the veritable character both of philosophical pessimism and of German music. but even the (and respond). and require a tragic view and insight into life and on the other hand those who suffer from reduced vitality. namely. What is Romanticism? Every art and every philosophy may be regarded as a healing and helping appliance in the service of growing.390 THE GERMAN CLASSICS knows from what personal experiences? — the philosophical pessimism of the nineteenth century as the symptom of a higher power of thought. music as the expression of a Dionysian myself German power in the German soul: I thought I heard in it the earthquake by means of which a primeval force that had inbeen imprisoned for ages was finally finding vent calls itself culture different as to whether all that usually was thereby made to totter. so that the tragic view of things seemed to me the peculiar luxury of our culture. the Dionysian God and man. In the same way I interpreted for a justifiable luxury. calm seas. and deliverance from its — — : . their Romanticism. — . to them Schopenhauer as well as Wagner responded to name those most celebrated and decided romanticists who were then misunderstood by me (not however to their disadvantage. a more daring courage and a more triumphant plenitude of life than had been characteristic of the eighteenth century. Kant. who need Dionysian art. All Romanticism in art and knowledge responds to the twofold craving of the latter. and madness. The being richest in overflowing vitality. noble.

or the desire for destrucfor becomtion. In this manner I gradually began to understand in a Epicurus." who in fact is only a type of Epicurean. for change. and negation. both these kinds ing. and are explicable precisely according to the before-mentioned and. as it me. to have in view whether the desire for rigidity. the greatest sufferer. — " similar manner also the Christian. senselessness. for perpetuation. from every mode of thinking and valuing to the imperative want behind In regard to all esthetic values I now avail myself of it. being — of desire prove themselves ambiguous. change and becoming. the opposite of a Dionysian pessimist. fear- dispelling narrowness and imprisonment within optimistic horizons. rightly preferred scheme. " At the outhunger or superfluity become creative here ? set another distinction might seem to recommend itself it is far more conspicuous. Conversely. in consequence of the overflowing plenitude of procreative. 391 and all the luxury of destruction. peace. for the new. for the future But when looked at more carefully. dis- organization. from the ideal to him who needs it.APHORISMS fearful deed itself. pregnant with futurity (my ter- seems to . and kindliness in thought and action he would need. — short he would need a certain warm. — in fidence. from the deed to its doer. may be the expression of overflowing power. the man poorest in vitality. and ugliness seem as it were licensed. The desire for destruction. would have most need of mildness. a similarly he would have need of logic. which can convert every desert into a luxuriant orchard. the abstract intelfor logic soothes and gives conligibility of existence is a God who specially the God ' ' ' ' . in which most mistakes have been made the inference from the work to its author. : Saviour of the sick. for : — — — is — the cause of the creating. " Has this radical distinction: I ask in every single case. and like him essentially a romantiand my vision has always become keener in tracing cist most difficult and insidious of all forms of retrospecthat tive inference. if possible. more namely. fructifying power. With him evil.

as with Rubens. ism in its hauerian romantic pessimism. It may on the art of this one hand proceed from gratitude and love: origin will always be an art of apotheosis. destitute and unfortunate. upon them. and spreading a Homeric brightness and glory over everything (in this case I speak of Apollonian art). perhaps dithyrambic. 381 ) One not only wants of Intelligibility. and narrow characteristics. excites to look closely at To understand this emotion we have but our anarchists. as it were. and provokes it. mocking divinely. whether it be as Schopenwill-philosophy. or clear and kind-hearted as with Goethe. as my proprium and ipsissimum . however. in that he imprints. struggling or tortured being. but also quite as not to be understood. a classical pessimism to me. who would like to stamp his most personal. yea. who. or as Wagnerian music: — this presentiment of pessimism. I call that pessimism of the future. which destroys. too indefinite and indistinguishable. — individual.392 THE GERMAN CLASSICS this is of course the minus for it word " Dionysian ") . all that endures. as something inseparable from and vision belongs me. in fact all being. for it is coming! I see it coming ! — — Dionysian pessimism. to be understood when one writes. The will to perpetuation requires equally a double interpretation. It is by no means an certainly The Question — — — objection to a book when some one finds it unintelligible: . takes revenge on all things. because the may enduring. it has become far — too worn. of his torture. only that the word "classical" is repugnant to my ears. as an obligatory law and constraint on others. (That there may be quite a different kind and brands his image. as with Hafiz. It may also. and musi destroy. be the tyrannical will of a sorely-suffering. the very idiosyncrasy of his suffering. enforces. but be the hatred of the ill-constituted. the last great event in the destiny of our civilization. the image The latter is romantic pessimmost extreme form.

I do not desire that either my ignorance. moreover my writ- . they at the same time keep off. my brevity has still another value on those questions which preoccupy me. one has to take care lest one ruins innocence. : nothing from life but their innocence. and in no other way. however much it may impel me to arrive quickly at an object. they prevent 11 while they access " (intelligibility. in order to arrive at it at all. my friends: I certainly do not desire that my vivacity should have that effect." It is there that all the more refined laws of style have their origin. I must say a great deal briefly. is a superstition of one does not get deep enough down the hydrophobic. Diu noctuque incubando. I mean the asses and old maids of both sexes. should prevent me being understood by you." A distinguished intellect and taste. glanced at. that out. when it wants to communicate its thoughts. or leave alone. as Newton. For as in order that it may be heard yet more briefly. this hearers. Oh! the great cold makes one quick! And let me ask by the way: Is it a fact that a thing has been misunderstood and unrecognized when it has only been touched upon in passing. to say it between ourselves and with reference to my own case. immoralist. flashed at? Must one absolutely sit upon it in the first place? Must one have brooded on it as on an egg^. said of himself? At least there are truths of a peculiar shyness and ticklishness which one can which only get hold of suddenly. they speak without experience. or the — my temperament. it at the same time closes its barriers against " the others. who get vivacity of — — — . For I think it is best to do with profound problems as with a cold bath quickly in. quickly That one does not thereby get into the depths. . always selects its might — perhaps he just did author. by selecting them. . the enemies of cold water. they create distance. Finally. as we have said) — And open the ears of those who are acoustically related to them.APHORISMS perhaps 393 have been the intention of its not want to be understood by "any one. one must either take by surprise.

to encourage them in virtue. — . a different digesti-on: we need more. But it would be worse still if it were otherif we knew too much our duty is and remains. my ignorance. Not fat. as an old desist from the mischief of putting " of interpretation. of which I are hours in which I are likewise hours in make no secret to myself. but the greatest suppleness and power is what a how much an . I should be at a loss to know of anything more amusing than to see enthusiastic old asses and maids moved by the sweet feelings of virtue and that have I seen spake Zarathustra. all of us. good dancer wishes from his nourishment. So much ' ' ' ' — : with respect to brevity the matter stands worse as regards . — . his service. the most learned of us are on the point of discovering that we know too little. first wise. than to be unfree and plethoric. V. . We have different needs. . are badly placed at present with regard to knowledge science is growing. it prefers rather to live free on poor fare. and perhaps adventure for which only the swiftest are qualified.394 ings are THE GERMAN CLASSICS meant to fill them with enthusiasm." ." of Let me be pardoned. not to get into confusion about ourselves. but Translated by Helen Zimmern. We are different from the learned. to be sure there which I am ashamed of this shame. There is no formula as of all. to ever. we need also less. For the dance is his ideal. : Perhaps we philosophers. its taste intellect needs for its nourishment if. From "Beyond Good and Evil"* 22 philologist who cannot his finger on bad modes Nature's conformity to law. There am ashamed of it. and also " divine his art. rapid coming and going. howbe in the direction of independence. traveling. a different growth. and I know not what the spirit of a philosopher would like better than to be a good dancer. in the end likewise his sole piety. although it cannot be denied that amongst other things we are also learned. to elevate them.

so much the better. and every power effects its ultimate consequences every moment. as has been said. and calculable namely. or like a weakening and softening metaas being too human. Granted that this and you will be eager also is only interpretation to make this objection? well. — — enough 23 All psychology hitherto has run aground on moral prejudices and timidities. is what you want. In so far as it is allowable to recognize which has hitherto been written. fact. it seems as if nobody in that . humanitarian adjustment and perrather just a naively version of meaning." and with regard to the same phenomena. however. with opposite intentions and modes of interpretation. just the tyrannically inconsiderate and relentless enforcement an interpreter who should so of the claims of power dieu. tyranny itself. not. that is interpretation. evidence of that which has hitherto been kept silent. in which the vulgar antagonism likewise a second to everything privileged and autocratic " Ni is once more disguised. would eventually 1 ' ' ' ' ' ' ' seem unsuitable. phor end by asserting the same about this world as you do. it has not dared to launch out into the depths. it exists only owing to your interpretation and bad " It is no matter of but text. nor better than we": a fine — modern soul! instance of secret motive. with which you made abundant con' ' ' ' ' ' — cessions to the democratic instincts of the " Nature is not Everywhere equality before the law different in that respect. ni " maitre — — — fore ' ' ! — — place the unexceptionalness and unconditionalness of all before your eyes. as though why. and thereis it not so ? Cheers for natural law " But. and more refined atheism that. that almost every Will to Power and the word word.APHORISMS 395 which you physicists talk so proudly. that it has a necessary — l ' ' ' ' ' ' ' course. but because they are absolutely lacking. no philology. not text. nevertheless. also. and somebody might come along who. and who should. because laws obtain in it. could read out of the same " Nature.

For psychology is once more the path to the fundamental problems. fundamentally and essentially. blinding. we crush on the helm we destroy perhaps the remains of our own morality by out. it has "the heart" against it: even a doc" " trine of the reciprocal conditionalness of the good and impulses. and has obviously operated in an injurious. If. if one has once drifted hither with one's bark. and there are in fact a hundred good reasons why every one should keep away from it who yet this hypothesis painful in this can do so! On the other hand. a person should the "bad" — regard even the emotions of hatred. The power of moral prejudices has penetrated deeply into the most intellectual world. be further developed if life is to be further developed). a doctrine of the derivation of all good impulses from bad ones. well! very good! now let us set our teeth firmly! let us open our eyes and keep our hand fast We sail away right over morality. causes (as refined immorality) distress and aversion in a still strong and manly conscience still more so. — — . for whose service and equipment the other sciences exist. as factors which must be present. And is far from being the strangest immense and almost new domain and most of dangerous knowledge. in the general economy of life (which must. as I conceive of it. therefore. and distorting manner. and imperiousness as life-conditioning emotions.396 THE GERMAN CLASSICS had yet harbored the notion of psychology as the Morphology and Development-doctrine of the Will to Power. and the " makes a sacrifice " it is not the psychologist who thus will at least be sacrifizio dell' intelletto. the world apparently most indifferent and unprejudiced. but what do we daring to make our voyage thither matter! Never yet did a profounder world of insight ! — reveal itself to daring travelers and adventurers. he will suffer from such a view of things as from sea-sickness. covetousness. on the contrary! entitled to demand in return that psychology shall once more be recognized as the queen of the sciences. proper physio-psychology has to contend with unconscious antagonism in the heart of the A investigator. obstructive. however. envy.

one thing is then certain he was not made. and congratulate himself when the clown becomes . the many. and bad intercourse (all intercourse is bad intercourse except with one's equals) that constitutes a necessary part of the life-history of every and above all." majority exclusive only of the case in which he as their exception to such men by a still stronger instinct. sympathy. those who simply recognize the the rule in themselves. — : — philosopher. and solitariness. and remains. quietly and proudly hidden in his citadel. self -overcoming. does not occasionally glisten in all the green and gray colors of distress. perhaps the most disagreeable. before witnesses as on their own dung-hill. owing to disgust. For as such. familiarity. ' ' : l ' — ! he would go " inside. Cynicism is the only form in which base souls approach what is called honesty and the higher man must open his ears to all the coarser or finer . that he persistently avoids it. favorite child of knowledge should be." The long and serious and consequently much disstudy of the average man guise. Whoever. animal. that he does not voluntarily take all this burden and disgust upon himself. however. in intercourse with men.APHORISMS 26 397 Every select man a privacy. even in books. he would one The devil take my good day have to say to himself taste but the rule is more interesting than the exception than myself. as I said. — cynicism. — as a discerner in the great and exceptional sense. he will meet with suitable auxiliaries who will shorten and lighten his task. as a disappointing part. where where he may forget " men who are the rule. he was : not predestined for knowledge. and If he is fortunate. however. odious. the exception! " And he would go down. the common-place and and at the same time have so much spirituality and ticklishness as to make them talk of themselves and their like ' ' ' ' sometimes they wallow. the . is pushed straight — strives instinctively for a citadel and he is free from the crowd. satiety. gloominess. supposing. is assuredly not a* man of elevated tastes. I mean so-called cynics.

For the indignant man. 44 Need very free I say expressly after all this that they will be free. as spirits. stand higher than the laughing and self-satisfied more satyr. It happens more frequently. ' ' ' ' man. or society). sexual instinct. or the scientific satyr speaks There are even cases where enchantment mixes with where by a freak of nature. these philosophers of the future — certainly also they will not be merely free spirits. when any one speaks and not even badly . but in every other sense he is the indifferent. as a belly with two requirements. and a head with one whenever any one sees. in general.398 THE GERMAN CLASSICS out. in place ill ' ' ' ' — of — . acutest. which does not wish to be misunderstood and mistaken. the profoundest. and fundamentally different. God. as in the case of the Abbe Galiani. as has been hinted. genius is bound to some such indiscreet billygoat and ape. more ordinary. morally speaking. and less instructive case. and vanity as the real and only motives of human actions in short.' But while I say this. and consequently also. then ought the lover of knowledge to hearken attentively and diligently. And no one is such a liar as the indignant man. especially amongst doctors and moral physiologists. but some- thing more. — terness. the world. I feel under obligation almost as much to them as to ourselves (we free spirits who are their heralds and forerunners). that a scientific head is placed on an ape 's body. an occurrence by no means rare. may indeed. and he was far properhaps also filthiest man of his century founder than Voltaire. to sweep away from ourselves . of himself. greater. shameless right before him. a good deal more silent. "to have an open ear wherever there is talk without indignation. he ought. or rather quite innocently of man. seeks and wants to see only hunger. higher. a fine exceptional understanding in a base soul. And whenever any one speaks without bitthe disgust — namely. and he who perpetually tears and lacerates himself with his own teeth (or.

however. and ! their two most frequently and doctrines are called " Equality of and Rights" and "Sympathy with all Sufferers" suffering itself is looked upon by them as something which must be done away with. who desire almost the opposite not to menof what our intentions and instincts prompt — tion that in respect to the ing. like a fog. and his Will to Life had to be increased to the unconditioned Will to Power: we believe that severviolence. they belong to the as named " f ree — levelers. only. and same in America. comfort. which. there is at present something which makes an abuse of this name a very narrow. danger in the street and in the heart. believe that this has always taken place under the opposite conditions. that for this end the dangerousness of his situation had to be increased enormously. together with security. safety. green-meadow happiness of the herd. is the universal. the : enchained class of spirits. chanted songs — — . his inventive faculty and dissembling power (his " spirit ") had to develop into subtlety and daring under long oppression and compulsion. who have opened our eye and conscience to the question how and where the plant " man " has hitherto grown most vigorously. ity. they are not free. slavery. blunt honest fellows to whom neither courage nor honorable conduct ought to be denied. has too long made the conception of " obscure. and are ludicrously superficial. with' ' these wrongly^ and regrettably. they must Briefly still new philosophers who are appearmore be closed windows and bolted doors. alleviation of life for every one . especially in their innate partiality for seeing the cause of almost all human misery and failure in the old forms in which a notion which happily insociety has hitherto existed — verts the truth entirely What they would fain attain wT ith all their strength.APHORISMS 399 altogether a stupid old prejudice and misunderstanding. We opposite ones. glib-tongued spirits" and scribe-fingered slaves of the democratic taste and its modern ideas " all of them men without solitude. prepossessed. In " free spirit every country of Europe. : out personal solitude.

acute senses. full of . and in any case we find ourselves here. erences and prejudices. or exaltation of the senses grateful even for distress and the vicissitudes of illness. youth.400 THE GERMAN CLASSICS stoicism. with unhesitating fingers for the intangible. as their antipodes perhaps? are not exactly the most communifree spirits that we cative spirits? that we do not wish to betray in every respect what a spirit can free itself from." pensatori. inquisitive to a fault. man.and Evil. Having been at home." grateful to the God. predatory. we at least avoid confusion." with which dangerous formula. — that everything and devilry of every kind. ready for every adventure. wicked. and its " sheep. investigators to the point of cruelty. devil. arrangers and collectors from morning till night. or even the weariness of travel seemed to confine us malice against the seductions of dependency which lie concealed in honors. origin. positions. at the other extreme of all modern ideology and gregarious What wonder desirability. tyrannical. we are something else than " liberi " " free-thinkers. hidden ones under the mantles of light." with anterior and posterior souls. tempter's art in secrecy. ready for any business that requires sagacity and some rule. with foregrounds and backgrounds to the end of which no run. or at least guests. in many realms of the spirit having escaped again and again from the gloomy. appropriators. the accident of men and books. money. serves as well for the elevation of we do not even say the human species as its opposite: enough when we only say this much. although we resemble heirs and spendfoot may thrifts. ." " modern ideas " and whatever these honest advocates of like to call themselves. and where per- and serpentine — ' ' ' ' haps it will then be driven? And as to the import of the " Beyond Good ." libres-penseurs. and worm in us . with teeth and stomachs for the most indigestible. owing to an excess of " free will. into the ultimate intentions of which it is difficult to pry. prejudice. terrible. both with our speech and our silence. agreeable nooks in which pref. because they always free us from .

midnight and midday solitude ing. sometimes sometimes night-owls of work even in full day. propagate.APHORISMS 401 misers of our wealth and our full-crammed drawers. ye coming ones? ye ye are also something of new philosophers? The moral subtle. To be sure. if necessary. and coarse-fingered: which sometimes becomes incarnate and obvious in the very " Science person of a moralist. designated thereby. people have not hitherto been so modest. sworn. nowadays. it a basis. and it is necessary yea. sentiment in Europe at present diverse. what is alone proper for the present: namely. and refined. initial. Indeed. pedants. awkward. more pretentious. inasmuch as we are the born. has been XV — 26 . when they concerned themselves with morality as a science: they wanted to give a basis to and every philosopher hitherto has believed that morality — he has given Vol. demanded of themselves something very much higher. which live. of our own profoundest such kind of men are we. of Morals " in to what is belated. One to avow with the utmost fairness what is still necesought — sary here for a long time. economical in learning and forgetting. the expression. the comprehensive survey and classification of an immense domain of delicate sentiments of worth. grow. All the philosophers. and perish and perhaps to give a clear idea of the recurring and more attempts common forms of these living crystallizations as preparation for a theory of types of morality. sensitive. the collection of material. morality itself. is perhaps as as the " Science of Morals " belonging thereto is recent. with a pedantic and ridiculous seriousness. an interesting contrast. — is. — — and ceremonious. even scarecrows that is to say. sometimes — : — we free spirits! And perhaps 186 the same kind. which is always a foretaste of more modest expressions. jealous friends of solitude. and distinctions of worth. respect far too presumptuous and counter to good taste. however. inventive in schem- proud of tables of categories.

strange as " giving a basis to morality. . analyzing. their Zeitgeist. Bullock.A. the problem of morality itself has been omitted." regarded as something awkward pride was the seemingly insignificant problem of a description of forms of left in dust and decay that the finest hands and senses morality. their church. a new means of its expression." task. their climate and zone was precisely because they were badly instructed with regard to nations. notwithstanding — — could hardly be fine enough for to in — perhaps as the morality of their environment. an arbitrary epitome." and enlosophers called to realize. Hear. . eras. proved deavored merely a learned form of good faith in prevailing morality. In every " Science of Morals " hitherto. their posi— tion. M. " the axiom about the purport of which all moralists are pracagreed: juva-— really tically is • neminem . he says (page 136 of the Grundprobleme der Ethik*). or an accidental abridgment it ! It — problems which only disclose themselves by a comparison of many kinds of morality. when seen in a right light. the real basis of ethics which has Pages 54-55 of Schopenhauer's Basis of Morality. yea. and vivisecting of this very faith.402 THE GERMAN CLASSICS " How far from their given. consequently just a matterof-fact within the sphere of a definite morality. with what innocence almost worthy of honor Schopenhauer represents his — — own tificalness of and draw your conclusions concerning the sciena <( science " whose latest master still talks the strain of children and old wives: " The principle. for instance. translated by Arthur (1903). a sort of denial that it is laivful for this sound. . there has been no suspicion that there was anything problematic there! That which phiit may — in and in any case the morality to be called in question reverse of the testing. that they did not even come in sight of the real problems of morals it was precisely owing moral philosophers knowing the moral facts imperfectly. lacde. in its ultimate motive. B. has. and were by no means eager to know about these matters. and past ages. immo omnes quantum potes the proposition which all moral teachers strive to establish. doubting.

although a pessimist. . for centuries. not preMany kinds of fasts are cisely with respect to work). whole generations and epochs. and whoever has thoroughly realized how absurdly false and sentimental this proposition is. and learn hunger anew. why also is a hint for the explanation of the it was precisely in the most Christian period . and plays the flute to Icede-neminem a pessimist? morals. . 403 like the philosopher's stone. when they show themselves infected with any moral fanaticism. who makes a halt at morality assents to morality. in a world whose essence is Will to Power. atmosphere odors). actually — played the flute . rank and overcharged with Aphrodisiacal Here paradox. as is appropriate in southern nations. and wherever powerful impulses and habits prevail. such as is also frequently found in the ancient world (although. daily after may read about the matter in his biography. Viewed from a higher standpoint. in the midst of Hellenic culture. a repudiator of God who and of the world. may be reminded that Schopenhauer. on which such impulses are fettered. during which an at the same impulse learns to humble and submit itself to — time also to purify and sharpen itself certain philosophical sects likewise admit of a similar interpretation (for instance. question by the way: a pessimist. with the . seem like those intercalated periods of restraint and fasting. cleverly intercalated fast. legislators have to see that intercalary days are appointed. what? Is that really dinner: one A — — 189 Industrious races find it a great hardship to be idle it was a master stroke of English instinct to hallow and begloom Sunday to such an extent that the Englishman unconsciously hankers for his week-and-work-day again as a kind of cleverly devised. : : — necessary. the Stoa." may indeed be great — also The difficulty of establishing the proposition referred to it is well known that Schopenhauer was unsuccessful in his efforts.APHOEISMS been sought.

" " world " as a term of first time coined the word of valuations." as Tacitus the chosen and the whole ancient world say of them the nations. it is with them that the slave-insurrection in morals commences. or an individual has ' ' lived." " " " " and for the sensual. and in general only under the pressure of Christian sentiments. the past of every were forlife." godless. In this inversion of valuations (in which is also included " " " as the use of the word " poor synonymous with saint and " friend ") the significance of the Jewish people is to be found." violent. sense." wicked.404 of THE GERMAN CLASSICS European history. the for the relationships divining instinct for the relation of the authority of ations. has come and mad semiwhich Europe has been plunged by the barbarity it is only the democratic mingling of classes and races nineteenth century that has recognized this faculty as its to us in the train of the enchanting into — sixth sense. reproach. which we Europeans claim as our of these valu- — the valuations this historical specialty." as they themselves say and people among the Jews performed the miracle of the inversion believe The Jews —a ' ' . that the sexual impulse sublimated into love (amour-passion). 195 people "born for slavery. — by means of which life on earth obtained a new and dangerous charm for a couple of millenniums. 224 historical sense (or the capacity for divining quickly the order of rank of the valuations according to which a The people. and of cultures which merly closely contiguous and superimposed on one another. flows forth into us "modern souls. to the authority of the operating forces). " Their prophets fused into one the expressions rich. ' ' a community. Owing form and mode of to this mingling." our instincts now .

this medley of the most delicate. whom men of distinguished culture (as the French of the seventeenth century. with a secret con- . the last echo of the century) cannot and whom they scarcely percould not so easily appropriate mitted themselves to enjoy. we By means of our semi-barbarity said. in desire. their hesitating reluctance with regard to everything strange. and to appreciate even Voltaire. like SaintEvremond. or an admiration of what is strange: all this determines and disposes them unfavorably even toward the best things of the world which are not their own and no faculty property or could not become their prey is more unintelligible to such men than just this historical sense. we enjoy Homer once more it is perhaps our happiest acquisition that we know for everything: whereby it For : how Homer. who reproached him for his esprit vaste. plebeian curiosity. the most coarse. and in general the averseness of every distinguished and self- Nay sufficing culture to its avow a new desire. with its truckling. their promptly ready disgust. 405 we ourselves are a kind of chaos its : in the end. a dissatisfaction with condition. their horror of the bad taste even of lively curiosity. and the most artificial. The very decided Yea and — of their palate. The case is not different with Shakespeare. instance. the the sense and instinct for everything. the spirit perceives in advan- .APHORISMS run back in all directions. the taste and tongue ' ' ' immediately proves itself to be an ignoble sense. ' historical sense implies almost just semi-barbarity. as we have body and have secret access everywhere. and to every form of semi-barbarity that has at any time existed on earth and in so far as the most considerable part of human civilization hitherto has tage therein. that marvelous Spanish- — Moorish-Saxon synthesis of taste. such as a noble age never had we have access above all to the labyrinth of imperfect civilizations. . over whom an ancient Athenian of the circle of ^Eschylus would have half -killed himself with laughter or irritation: but we accept precisely this wild motleyness.

the goldenness and coldness which all things show that have perfected themselves. taste. That as men of the historical sense we are unpretentious. where. Like the rider on his for- — ward panting horse. their moment of smooth sea and halcyon self-sufficiency. we modern men. and we can only evoke in ourselves imperfectly. by standing firmly and planting oneself fixedly on still trembling ground. our virtues is not to be disputed: unselfish. as perhaps on the Chiaja of Naples. and allow ourselves to be as little disturbed by the repulsive fumes and the proximity of the English populace in which Shakespeare's art and taste lives.406 fidence THE GERMAN CLASSICS and cordiality." Let us finally confess it. when a great power has voluntarily come to a halt before the boundless and when a superabundance of refined delight has infinite. modest. Perhaps our great virtue of the historical sense is in necessary contrast to good taste. we go our way. habituated to self-control and self-renunciation. brave. highest bliss when we — — . and with compulsion the small. our itching is really the itching for the infinite. we enjoy it as a refinement of art reserved expressly for us. feel. is precisely the perfection and ultimate all ' ' ' ' — — ' ' ' ' maturity in every culture and art. we semi-barbarians and are only in our are in most danger. Proportionateness is strange to us. the immeasurable. enchanted and voluntarily. been enjoyed by a sudden checking and petrifying. let us confess it to ourselves. hesitatingly. at least to the very best taste. what finds us fundamentally prejudiced and almost hostile. very grateful. the essentially noble in works and men. we let the reins fall before the infinite. for us men of the historical sense and love. very patient. with our senses awake. that what is most difficult to grasp. short. and happy godsends and glorifications of human life as they shine here and there: those moments and marvelous experiences. very combut with all this we are perhaps not very ll tasteplaisant ful. in spite of the drain-odor of the lower quarters of we have the town.

against the nature of the sentiment its itself. the Sybels — — . among present-day Germans there is alternately the anti-French folly. tions of the German spirit and conscience may be called. so that it could be easily wiped out. for instance. the anti-Polish folly. this prudence and policy is not perhaps directed historians. the folly. but only against dangerous excess. especially toward the East (also toward Austria)!" thus commands the instinct of a people whose nature is still feeble and uncertain. About the I have never Jews. easily many has amply the sufficient German — — — . has difficulty (and will long have diffiblood. the anti-Semitic folly. slight attacks of stupidity pass — — over the spirit of a people that suffers and wants to suffer from national nervous fever and political ambition: for instance. on this point we must not deceive ourselves. if various clouds and in short. the Prussian folly (just look at those poor and Treitschkes. " Jew " as culty) in disposing only of this quantity of the Italian. and their closely and whatever else these little obscurabandaged heads). the Frenchman. May it be forgiven me that I. but like every one else. began to entertain thoughts about matters which did not concern me the first symptom of political infection. to which one must listen and according to which one must act. and Englishman have done by means of a stronger digestion: that is the unmistakable declaration and language of a general instinct. listen to the following: yet met a German who was favorably inclined to the Jews and however decided the repudiation of actual antiSemitism may be on the part of all prudent and political men. too. " Let no more Jews come in! And shut the doors. that the German stomach. the Wagnerian folly.APHORISMS 251 407 disturbances It must be taken into the bargain. did not remain wholly exempt from the disease. and especially against the distasteful and infamous expression of this excess of sentiment. when on a short daring sojourn on very infected ground. That Ger- — Jews. the Teutonic Christian-romantic folly.

and make advances to it (it possibly lictokens a mitigation of the Jewish instincts) for which purpose it would perhaps be useful and fair to banish the anti-Semitic bawlers out of the country. in the same way that the Russian Empire makes its as an empire that has plenty of time and is not conquest — ' ' ' ' . by means of virtues of some sort. even somewhat importunately. calculate upon the Jews. and wish to put an end to the nomadic life. however. in all his perspectives concerning the future. by a stronger race. " thinker who has the future of slowly as possible! — A Europe at heart will. — " as of yesterday namely. as he will calculate upon the Russians. The Jews. toughest. they know how to succeed even under the worst conditions (in fact better than under favorable ones). That which is at " nation " in present called a Europe. and with selection. rivalry and It is certain that the it. to the wandering ' ' one should certainly take account of this impulse and tendency. they rather wish and desire. as above all the surest and likeliest factors in the great play and battle of forces. they long to be finally settled. desired — or as the anti-Semites they were driven to seem to wish — could now have the ascendency. if if liter- ally the supremacy. . to be insorbed and absorbed by Europe. Meanwhile. easily displaced. young. over Europe that they are not working and planning for that end is equally certain. is in every case something evolving. pretty Jew. nay." — and : . and not yet a race. authorized. which one would like nowadays to label as vices owing above all to a resolute faith which does not need to be ashamed modern ideas before they alter only. and purest race at present living in Europe.408 THE GERMAN CLASSICS extinguished. as the Jews are: such 11 nations " should most carefully avoid all hot-headed hostility! they Jews. are beyond all doubt the strongest. and respected somewhere. and is really rather a res facta than nata (indeed. One should make advances with all prudence. according to the principle. sometimes confusingly similar to a res ficta et picta). ivhen they do alter. much less such a race cere perennius.

race to hold on firmly to Christianity they need its disand humanizing. The Englishcipline for moralizing * ' ' ' — .APHORISMS much the as the English nobility do. an abasement. for instance. " my serious topic." in the struggle against the English mechanical stultification of the world. and thereby wronged each other as only brothers will do. and Locke. Hume. meprise Locke. for Europe. Hegel and Schopenhauer (along with Goethe) were of one accord. It 409 stands to reason that more powerful and strongly marked types of new Germanism could enter into relation with the Jews with the least hesitation. What is lacking in England. who sought to conceal under passionate grimaces what he knew about himself: real power of intelnamely. Carlyle. phiIt is characteristic of such an unphilosophical losophy. the absurd muddle-head. that half-actor and rhetorician knew well enough. the nobleman officer from the Prussian border it would be interesting in many ways to see whether the genius for money and patience (and especially some intellectuality sadly lacking in the place referred to) could not in addition be annexed and trained for to the hereditary art of commanding and obeying : — — both of which the country in question has now a classic reputation. and has always been lacking. himself it was Locke of whom Schelling rightly said. the two hostile brother-geniuses different directions in philosophy. in short. the rearing of a the " European prob- new ruling caste 252 are not a philosophical race the English Bacon represents an attack on the philosophical spirit generally. what was lacking in Carlyle — lect. But here it is expedient to break off my festal for I have discourse and my sprightly Teutonomania : already reached as I understand lem. Je ' ' ' ' ' ' . : They — Hobbes. and a depreciation of the idea of a for more than a cenphilosopher It was against Hume that Kant uprose and raised tury. real depth of intellectual perception. who pushed in toward the opposite poles of German thought. it.

. 253 truths which are best recognized by mediocre minds. sensual. more correctly. there finally. not even the desire for rhythm and dance. tial fit of ' ' really be the relatively highest manifestation to which they can be elevated so much humanity may ' ' : may reasonably be admitted. a peniten(and more recently as the . John Stuart Mill. and by praying and psalm-singing (or. ascendency Indeed. . it is thereby explained and differently expressed) and for the herd of drunkards and rakes who formerly learned moral grunting under the influence of Methodism " Salvation Army "). who could doubt that it is a useful thing" for such — . for which. as the baser of the all the more need of finer nostrils.410 THE GERMAN CLASSICS German man. more gloomy. a step toward spiritThe English coarseness and rustic demureness most satisfactorily disguised by Christian pantomime. and brutal than the — is two. owing to good reasons. however. there are truths which only possess charms and seductive power for There are mediocre spirits : — one is pushed to this probably un- pleasant conclusion. and Herbert Spencer begins to gain the in the middle-class region of European taste. Listen to him speaking look at the most beau- earth are listen to more beautiful doves and swans. it is the finer poison to neutralize the used as an antidote has still To — coarser: a finer ualization. ' ' tiful Englishwoman walking — in no country on . this English Christianity a characteristic English taint of spleen and alcoholic excess. for . because they are best adapted for them. to he has neither speak figuratively (and also literally) nor dance in the movements of his soul and body rhythm indeed. w hich T : offends even in the humanest Englishman is his lack of music. them singing! But I ask too much. is still form of poisoning is in fact a step in advance with coarse-mannered people. That. . also the Christianity. but mediocre Englishmen now that the influence of respectable — I may mention Darwin. ' ' music. headstrong. itself most pious: he has for that very reason.

however. and deducing conclusions from them. than one — man in the grand style. alas! their first and profoundest victims. have to be an ignorant person. while on the other hand. the European ignobleness. for scientific discoveries like those of Darwin.) may not be unfavorable for arriving at them. aridity. the creator. thinks: the capable will possibly — once before a general depression of European intelligence. taking the noblesse word in every high sense. their best soldiers. let it not be forgotten that the with their profound mediocrity. What is called modern ideas. they have more to do than merely to perceive: in effect. there is no doubt about it. ' ' — ' ' passionate strength. consewhich the German mind rose up with proquently. almost with disbelief. the plebeianism of modern ideas is England's work and invention. " or " the ideas of the " or French ideas eighteenth century. that at present one recalls its sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. against ' ' ' ' ' ' — found disgust is of English origin. The French were only the apes and actors of these ideas. something English. and defend it against present prejudices and appearances the European of sentiment. a certain narrowness. maintain this verdict of historical justice in a determined manner. they are rather from the first in no very favorable position toward those who are " the rules. taste. they have to represent new values! The gulf between knowledge and capacity is perhaps greater. and industrious carefulness (in short.APHORISMS minds to 411 have the ascendency for a time? It would be an error to consider the highly developed and independently soaring minds as specially qualified for determining and collecting many little common facts. for owing to the diabolical Anglomania of modern ideas. as exceptions. and likewise. and manners. Finally. — . One must. its profound. that. is the work and invention of — : — France. they have to signify something new." After all. they have to be something new. its inventive excellency. and also more mysterious. the ame frangaise has in the end become so thin and emaciated. brought about English.

and much else that is altogether unmentionable at present. that they . are most closely and intimately related to one another. outward and whither? upward. or in their weaker moments. the most unmistakable signs that Europe wishes to be one. in all the heights and depths of their requirements it is Europe. Schopenhauer: it must not be taken amiss if I also count Richard Wagner among them. fundamentally akin. by the unseemly noise with which he is now resisted and opposed in France: the fact remains.412 THE GERMAN CLASSICS 256 to the Owing morbid estrangement which the nationalitystill craze has induced and induces among the nations of Europe. — sought in the same manner. in old age " fatherlands " perhaps. Heinrich Heine. Stendhal. nevertheless. the one Europe. only in their simulations. in their multifarious and boisterous art into a new light? toward a new sun? But who would attempt to express accurately what all these masters of new modes of speech could not express distinctly? It is certain that the same storm and stress tormented them." think of such men as Napoleon. about whom one must not let oneself be deceived by his own misunderstandings (geniuses like him have seldom the right to understand themselves). did they belong to the they only I rested from themselves when they became il patriots. and tentatively to anticipate the European of the future. of course. are now overlooked. still less. who with the help of this craze are at present in power. They are akin. owing also to the short-sighted and hasty-handed politicians. Beethoven. that Richard — Wagner and the later French Romanticism of the forties. these last great seekers! All . and do not suspect to what extent the disintegrating policy they pursue must necessarily be only an interlude policy — owing to all this. whose soul presses urgently and longingly. the real general tendency of the mysterious labor of their souls was to prepare the way for that new synthesis. more profound and large-minded men of this century. With all the or arbitrarily and falsely misinterpreted. Goethe.

them great discovof the loathsome and the strange. antinomians and rebels in manners. and upsets. almost destroying themselves by work. high-flying. born enemies of logic and of the straight line. ". as musician is reckoned among painters. plebeian : parvenus. and the self -contradictory as men. original for an anti-christian philosophy?) a boldly daring. who knew themselves to be incapable of a noble for of Balzac. or whether sufficiently . of his self- — . intermediaries and blenders of the arts and the senses (Wagner. with mysterious accesses to all that seduces. poets. as artist generally among actors) . Let the German friends of Richard Wagner advise together as to whether there is anything purely German in the Wagnerian art. for who of ment. them would have been profound and sufficiently on the whole.. allures. the crooked. all of erers in the realm of the sublime. splendidly overbearing. constrains. ambitious and insatiable. also dreadful. which the strength of his instincts made him long to visit at the most decisive time and how the whole style of his proceedings. all of them talented far beyond their genius. hankering after mention Delacroix. in the art of the show-shop. workers. — — — ' ' distinction does not consist precisely in coming from super-German sources and impulses: in which connection its it may not be underrated how indispensable Paris was to the development of his type.APHORISMS in literature to their eyes first artists of universal literary culture 413 of them steeped — for and ears — the the most part even themselves writers. life and action — think all of them finally shattering and sinking down at the Christian cross (and with right and reason. as poet among musicians.. the exotic. in display. all of " " at I specially any cost expression — them fanatics for the nearest related to Wagner. still greater discoverers in effect. Tantaluses of the will. and aloft-up-dragging class of higher men. without equilibrium and enjoy- tempo or of a lento in — unrestrained instance. out and out virtuosi. who had first to and it is the century of the masses teach their century the conception higher man. the monstrous.

This quite uncertain ding-dong-dangling? This sly nun-ogling. perhaps be found. too cheerful. and inimitable to the whole man — . Wagner anticiatoned amply for this sin in his old sad days. to the honor of Richard Wagner's Gernature. severity. and elevation than a nineteenthowing to the circumcentury Frenchman could have done stance that we Germans are as yet nearer to barbarism than the French perhaps even the most remarkable creaRichard Wagner is not only at present.414 THE GERMAN CLASSICS apostolate. that very free probably far too free. but forever tion of inaccessible. incomprehensible. if not to walk therein. too anti-Catholic for the taste of old and mellow civilized nations. He may even have been a sin against Romanticism. which will even — — — Is this our mode — ? what I mean betray to less delicate ears what I mean and his Parsifal music last Wagner counter to the ' ' — ' ' : — From German From German heart came this vexed ululating? body. I will call to my aid a few powerful rhymes. That these last words may not be misunderstood. This incense-fuming exaltation? Is ours this faltering. : too healthy. that he has acted in everything with more strength. at least. could only perfect itself in sight of the French On a more subtle comparison it will socialistic original. Ave-hour-bell ringing. who is the figure of Siegfried. — latter-day Latin race man. this self-lacerating! Is ours this priestly hand-dilation. daring. This wholly false enraptured heaven-o'erspringing? Is this our mode? Think well! ye still wait for admission Rome's faith by intuition! For what ye hear is Rome — — — — — . shambling. too hard. the way to Rome. falling. this anti-Latin Siegfried: well. when pating a taste which has meanwhile passed into politics he began. to preach. with the religious vehemence peculiar to him.

of hatred of the whole human race: and rightly so. than to be in that sense self -contradictory. good and evil. is called against Judaea. " good and bad. Hitherto there has been no greater event against ' ' than that fight. written in a writing which has remained worthy intense. the putting of that question. and though indubitably the second value has been for a long time in the preponderance. have fought a dreadful. as though the human race to the unconditional mastery of the aristo- cratic values. of the more psychological nature. . It can almost be said that in the meanwhile the fight reaches a higher and higher level. in so far as it is right to link the well-being and the future of the unnatural.A. of the Roman values. did the Jews feel against Rome? One can surmise it from a thousand symptoms. of perusal throughout the course of history up to the " Rome present time. 415 of From " The Genealogy 16 Morals " * Let us come to a conclusion. The symbol of this fight. that most obscene of all the written outbursts. and to be actually still a battleground for those two opposites. when over this very book of hate it wrote the name of the Disciple of Love.APHORISMS VI. and that in the meanwhile it has become more and more and always more and more psychological. that self-same disciple to whom it attributed that impas* Translated by Horace B. Samuel. thousand-year fight in the world. conversely. there are not wanting places where the fortune of 1 ' * * ' ' the fight is still undecisive. Judaea Rome. The two opposing values. (One should also appraise at its full value the profound logic of the Christian instinct. What. which has revenge on its conscience. but it is sufficient to carry one's mind back to the Johannian Apocalypse. that deadly Rome found in the Jew the incarnation of it were its diametrically opposed and in Rome the Jew was held to be convicted monstrosity. M. antagonism. so that nowadays there is perhaps no more decisive mark of the higher nature.

such as the Chinese or the Germans. as though before the quintescence of all the highest values and not only in Rome. English) movement of revenge. of the aristocratic valuation of all things: Rome herself. which presented the appearance of an ecumenical synagogue and was Rome Church — the restoration also of the ancient graveyard peace of classical Rome. and in a sense which was even more ." but immediately Judaea triumphed thanks to that fundamentally popular (German and again. but almost over half the world. which is called the Reformation. a nation stronger and more aristocratic has never existed in the world.) aristocratic. This is very remarkable: Rome is undoubtedly defeated. to Peter the fisher. and to the mother of the aforesaid Jesus. stirred beneath the burden of the new that had been built over her. Judaea proved yet once more victorious over the classical ideal in the French Revolution. and one Jewess (to Jesus of Nazareth. so as to realize afterward what is first rate. At rate there took place in the Renaissance a brilliantly any — — sinister revival of the classical ideal. just consider to whom in Rome itself nowadays you bow down. The Jews. as we know. every relic of them. however much literary forging may have been necesThe Romans were the strong and sary for this purpose. granted that one can divine what it is that writes the inscription. Rome or Judaea? but there is not a shadow of doubt. everywhere where man has been tamed or is about to be tamed to three Jews. gifts. like a man waking up from a Judaized Church. the restoration of the called the " trance.416 THE GERMAN CLASSICS sioned and ecstatic Gospel — therein lurks* a portion of truth. every inscription enraptures. possessed by a unique genius for popular morals: just compare with the Jews the nations with analogous rate. were that priestly nation of resentment par excellence. has never even been dreamed of. and taking also into account its inevitable corollary. to Paul the tent-maker. and what is fifth Which of them has been provisionally victorious. conversely. named Mary).

' ' . and equalization. more penetrating than ever. face to face with an ancient world of writings which had not yet fallen into decay and ruin. wherever he has obtained the mastery. that synthesis — 22 The ascetic priest has. and in opposition to : . broke into pieces beneath the instincts of a resentful populace never had the world — heard a greater jubilation. the terrible and enchanting counter-war- cry of the prerogative of the feiv! Like a final signpost ways. their " book-initself. abasement. their real model. a more uproarious enthusiasm indeed. is : — Napoleon. at that time the simplicity and vanity of Christian agitators (they are generally called Fathers of the Church) dared to declare: " We too have Vol.APHORISMS crucial 417 last political aris- and even more profound: the tocracy that existed in Europe. in opposition to* the will to lowliness. at a time when certain books were still to be read. XV — 27 . One solitary indication. stronger. that of the French seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. the most unique and violent anachronism that ever existed. there rang out once again. there appeared Napoleon. to possess which we would give nowadays half our literature in exchange. which was also a splendor of books. " " of Christian literature. corrupted the health of the soul. it concerns the arch-book it still. there took place in the midst of it the most monstrous and unexpected phenomenon the ancient ideal itself swept before the eyes and conscience of humanity with all its life and with unheard-of splendor." In the very midst of the Graeco-Eoman splendor. the will to a retrogression and twilight of humanity. he has consehe corquently also corrupted taste in artibus et litteris — rupts this it I hope I shall be granted Consequently? " at consequently any rate. resentment's lying war-cry of the prerogative of the most. simpler. and in him the incarnate problem of the aristocratic ideal in itself conto other sider well of what a problem it Monster and Superman. I am not going to prove first.

An immortal Peter! who could stand him! They have an ambition which makes one laugh — ' ' : most personal life. twisting angles and fancy touches. but no passion. insolence any further. here manifestly every one lacked good breeding. God help mc! Luther's words before the Reichstag at Worms. this over-valued Scripture. their letters of apostles. just a hostel of petty sects. passionate hysteria. the crown of Finally they actually wish to have eternal life. but what boots it! * ' ! "* Here I stand I cannot help myself I have the of my bad taste. as though the Universe itself were under an obligation to bother itself the thing dishes cut his Here I stand! I cannot help myself. and — — ! one of the rarest phenomena in the world. all honor to . not to forget an occasional whiff of bucolic sweetness which appertains to the epoch (and the Roman province) and is less Jewish than Hellenistic." it almost guess tion Army ' ' upsets me that I stand so isolated in my taste so far as concerns this valued. just in the same way that today the English wages its fight against Shakespeare and other " heathens " with an You already analogous literature. How dare any one make so much fuss about their little failings as do these pious little fellows! No one cares a straw about it let alone God. an heroic landscape. the taste of two thousand years is against me. painful pantomime. an emotional garrulousness that almost deafens. I find a people. pure rococo of the soul. The Old Testament courage yes. it. further still. up his melancholies.the Old Testament I find therein great men. the incomparable naivete of the strong heart. I do not like the "New Testament. on the contrary." do all these little provincials! In return for in sooth? For what end? It is impossible to carry what. we do not need that of the Greeks " and meanwhile they proudly pointed to their books of — legends. and commoner-garden troubles. In the New. * and dried " Amen" — were . nothing but conventicle air. and their apologetic tract" Salvalets.418 THE GERMAN CLASSICS our classical literature. that is something quite different. Meekness and braggadocio cheek by jowl.

he 's done it.'' 1 23 The ascetic ideal has corrupted not only health and taste. it was not German He personally wished himself to talk enough for him. was. who at the was offended good etiquette of the Church. still less of good manners direct. Lack of measure. which only admits to the holy of holies the initiated and the silent. The ascetic ideal. but Luther the peasant — ' ' simply wished it otherwise. for it never gets tired of wrapping up God Himself in the petty misery in which its troubles are involved. And how about the atrocious form of this chronic This Jewish. that worship-etiquette of the sacerdotal code. a little tact in worshipping. opposition to measure. — " non plus a school for sacerdotal manners that is. the Pope "). there is no doubt. think of the Lutherian tone. was at no time and in no place a school of at the best it was good taste. it is itself a : ultra. to take a contrast. there are also third. as it was. fourth. name is these nations do not allow themselves to say aloud the of their God. and not only for primitive most " eloquent " and insolent peasant Christians. at bottom the opposition of a boor. straight from the shoulWell. and sixth things which I shall take care not to go through the it has corrupted — . and shuts the door against the boors. These definitely were not to be allowed a hearing in this planet. it certain that ft is too delicate. Luther's opposition to the medieval saints of the Church " that devil's (in particular. it contains in itself something which was a deadly enemy to all good manners. to talk der ' ' with his God. in which he felt quite the most in his element during his tete-a-tetes with God.APHORISMS 419 about them. slobbering and clawing importunacy toward God! There exist little despised " heathen nations " in East Asia. and not merely hobnobbing with God? Jewish. This seems to me delicate enough. against hog. to talk personally. you will guess. just recollect Luther. fifth. from whom these first Christians could have learnt something worth learning. the whom Germany has had.

spare my a glance at glance its fatal results. affirms. rather does it believe in its own precedence over. only in the sense of its interpretation (and was there ever a more thoroughly elaborated system of interpretation?) it subjects itself to no power. I did this to pre- pare them for the final and most awful aspect presented to me by the question of the significance of that ideal. nations. appear petty and narrow. that not only has it fought a long and fortunate fight with that ideal. and interpretation? Why is the counterpart lacking? Where But I am told it is not lacking. a right to exist. " " to readers a at the awfulness of it not its results. putting it gen- — erally. manifestly has the courage to be itself. a way and means to its end. own it believes that nothing powerful exists in every power the world that has not first got to receive from " it " a meaning. that of which it is the provisional expression. What is the significance of the power of that ideal. that all the other interests of human life should. denies. measured by standard. to expose not what this ideal effected. confirms. it explains epochs. manifestly believes in itself alone. but rather only what means. but that further it has already won the mastery over that ideal in all essentials: let our whole modern is " the other " one aim? science attest this modern science. men. the monstrousness of its power? Why is it given such an amount of scope? Why is not a better resistance offered against it? The ascetic ideal expresses one will: where is the opposition will. end. the — that . Where — is the counterpart of this complete system of will. which. a value. in reference to this one end it repuit forbids any other interpretation. in which an opposition ideal expresses itself? The ascetic ideal has an aim this goal is. what lies lurking behind it and under it. an obscure expression bristling with queries and misunderAnd with this object only in view I presumed standings. any other end its .420 THE GERMAN CLASSICS I have here catalogue (when should I get to the end?). to one end. as being an instrument in its work. . like the genuine reality-philosophy which it is. on what it is based. diates. .

> HBHf Permission Dcntsc.mi*. J . Stuttgart 'erlags-Anstalt. Hans Thoma THE GUARDIAN OF THE VALLEY .


one ideal. Oh. remorse. the discontent with an enforced moderation. and exquisiteness. one passion for a great When faith. an impertinence. one will. it is rather the incar- Does that ring decent working today. but nation of its latest and noblest form. especially in science for in science there is so much useful work to do. the contrary. 421 and has got on well enough without God. and who. — not cover today? How much. the fact of its having contented workers. for I rejoice in their work.APHORISMS will to be itself. is the case. and wherever mouths. love. the suffering from the lack of a great love. these trumpeters of reality are bad musicians. become at times indecently loud with their demand. — there is nothing I should like less than I do not deny it to spoil the delight of these honest workers in their handi- — work. is absolutely no proof of science as a whole having today one end. just because they are pleased so to do. With all their noisy agitator-babble. ardor. and negative virtues. does it not try . they effect nothing with me. disbelief. however. But the fact of science requiring hard work. their voices do not come from the deeps with sufficient audibility. consists of passion. another world. what does all science ardice. they are not the mouthpiece for the for today scientific knowlabyss of scientific knowledge the word in such trumpeterscience. science is not the latest manifestation of the ascetic ideal — but these are cases of such rarity. edge is an abyss — — ' ' ' ' a prostitution. There are enough brave and strange? even among the learned men of people. selectness. an abuse. as I have said. who like their little corner. suffering. Science has today absolutely no belief in itself. at any rate. let alone in an ideal superior to itself. truth is is science still not the opposition to that ascetic ideal. that people today should be quite content. as to preclude the general judgment being affected science is a hiding-place for every kind of cowthereby — bad conscience it is the very anxiety that springs from having no ideal. The just the opposite from what is maintained in the ascetic theory. despectio sui.

and his rage over those who are less foolish: he is in sore need of noise. simply because you didn't have the finesse to infer the real kind of customers you had to tackle. From " The Twilight of the Idols "* 12 I have been reading the life of Thomas Carlyle. who have only one fear — coming to con- VII. well-knit enough for such a luxury. a rhetorician by necessity. Ludovici.422 to cover? THE GERMAN CLASSICS The less industry. when you think you are paying them a compliment you who — this — you them sometimes embitter them beyond all bounds. but rather the reverse. by virtue of this he is and remains interesting. a man of strong words and attitudes. that heroico-moral interpretation of dyspeptic moods Carlyle. the dazed and unconscious kind sciousness. If a man have a strong faith he can indulge in the luxury of — scepticism. firm enough. . in England he is admired precisely on Translated by Anthony M. Carlyle stupefies something in himself by means of the fortissimo of his reverence for men of a strong faith. An attitude of con- stant and passionate dishonesty toward himself this is his proprium. their both ends often is — their very mastery in their handiwork — how meaning of all diligence of our best scholars. their senseburning the candle of their brain at the real that to prevent themselves continuing to see a certain thing? Science as a self -anesthetic: do you know that? You wound them every one consorts with scholars experiences wound to the quick through just a harmless word. he is strong enough. that unconscious and involuntary farce. who seems ever to be tormented by the desire of finding some kind of — in this respect strong faith. To yearn for a strong faith is not the proof of a strong faith. and by his inability to do so ( a typical Romanticist!). * — Of course. the sufferer kind (who won't own up even to themselves what they really are).

It does occur. and even of where there is a struggle. in Lope de Vega's words: " yo me sucedo a mi mismo. ence. tamen est laudanda voluptas. it is not only comprehensible but also very natural. but as an exception. Compared with Carlyle he is a man of taste. he has absolutely no idea of how old he is already. for the present. Well. and how young he will yet be he could have said of himself. of the fact that the English are the nation of consummate cant.-— He is much more enlightened. that kindly intellectual cheerfulness which deprepossesses cates over-much seriousness.APHORISMS . it is a absurd prodigality struggle for power. Supposing. nevertheless declared Carlyle. He is one who instinctively lives on amhe is happier." His mind is always finding reasons for being contented and even thankful. said gratefully desint vires. We should not confound Malthus with — — nature. however. Emerson fectly true. 13 Emerson. but rather of riches. its result is unfortunately the does indeed occur and it very reverse of that which the Darwinian school seems to — — . 423 account of his honesty. and at times he gets preciously near to that serene superiority that ' ' ' ' — of the worthy bourgeois who returning from an amorous " Ut rendezvous tamquam re bene pesta. At bottom." it seems to me. Carlyle is an English atheist who makes it a point of honor not to be so. broader. The general condition of life is not one of want or famine. that is English and in view." 14 As to the famous " struggle for existAnti-Darwin. This is perhe does not give us enough to chew. much . but it is not unfavorable to Emerson. more versatile. that this struggle exists. and more subtle than Carlyle but above all. brosia and who leaves the indigestible parts of things on his plate. who was very fond of him. to be more of an assumption than a fact. of lavish luxuriance.

indignities of all kinds. Darprevail over the — win forgot the intellect ( — that is English!). illI wish them to be treatment. Ludovici. with profound self -contempt. with the martyracquainted dom of self -distrust." or the consumptive love of Puritan pietists proves nothing in regard to the order of rank among men. great self-control. desolation. sickness." which Nietzsche applies to the German Em. and everything related to mimicry (what day. As you perceive. t Translated — Translator. or the blessedness of " beautiful souls. it is always to the disadvantage of the strong. Species do not evolve toward perfection: the weak always in strong simply because they are the majority. THE GERMAN CLASSICS and of that which : agreement with them we also might desire that is to say. craft. . the capacity of sticking to his guns. dissimulation. the privileged. by Anthony M. and because they are also the more crafty. To such men as concern me in any way I wish suffering. who possesses strength flings intellect to the deuce " let it "* go hence! say the Germans of the present intellect. the more in need of He ( — " the Empire will remain "). loses it when one no longer needs it. . 911 The happiness and self-contentedness of the lazzaroni. As a great educator one ought inexorably to thrash a race of such blissful creatures into *An allusion to a verso in Luther's hymn: " Lass fahren dahin das Reich muss uns doch bleibcn. VIII. weak have one must be One praised nowadays as virtue is very closely related to the latter). .424 desire. with the misery of the defeated: I — have no pity for them. and the happy exceptions. From "The 910 Will to Power "f The Type of My Disciples. is In order to acquire intellect. it. namely. patience. pire. intellect to me means caution. because I wish them to have the only thing which today proves whether a man has any value or not.

and to all the relaxa- — tion of contemplative states. practical. scholar efficient. is required as if it were normal that . that goodness. and which may force a man to such activity as will restore energy to his slackened tendons. or by means of a sudden state of poverty. The most desirable thing of all. and without reprieve. selves at every step. from every other schooling. perhaps. Occasionally life itself is merciful enough to make a man recover this lost and severe schooling: by means of periods of sickness. and this holds good of corporeal as well to talent We as of spiritual things it would be fatal to draw distinctions here! The same discipline makes the soldier and the . . looked at more closely. is. what distinguishes hard schooling. however. he walks through life without ever His soft muscles betray themhaving learned to walk. at that age w hen it makes us proud that For this is people should expect great things from us. that a good deal is demanded.. even excellence itself. as good schooling. and yet to be ready at any moment to lead to prefer danger To be able to to command and to be able to proud fashion. well then. namely. praise is is scanty. T that a good deal is severely exacted. e. there is no who has not the instincts of a true soldier in in a obey keep one's place in rank and file. and has no regard and antecedents. are in every way in need of such a school. . The danger of belittlement and of a slackenI am opposed to haping of powers follows immediately piness a la Spinoza or a la Epicurus. to such happiness. and.APHORISMS 425 unhappiness. true scholar his veins. i. and a tough spirit to his will to life. nay. under all circumstances to have severe discipline at the right time. that leniency is non-existent. one But when virtue is the means must master even virtue. that blame sharp. which threatens his wife and child. which exact the utmost will-power and self-control. Such a person I does not know himself. 912 cannot see how any one can make up for having missed going to a good school at the proper time.

believes that it has completed its duty when it has instructed or trained the brain. " r . to hear no . of the highest value of his nature. with spoilt stomachs. it never even suspects that the education of something else is first of all necessary will-power. — 915 It is my desire to naturalize asceticism: I would subby stitute the old intention of asceticism. " self-denial. In every sense even as a means of main(2) Fasting.) Tests ought also to be devised for a man's pow er in keeping his word." my own self'-strengthening :" a gymnastic of intention. slyness. whether he can promise. to be more hostile to comfort not to weigh what is pettiness. permitted and what is forbidden in a tradesman's balance. even in things intellectual a casuistry in deeds. the will. to give up reading for a while. a period of abstinence and occasional fasting of every kind. the young man completes his education without a question or an inquiry having been made concerning the problem. we should try our hand at adventure and at deliberate (Diners chez Magny: all intellectual gourmets dangers. discovering r 916 The things which have become spoilt through having been abused by the Church People have scarcely got the courage (1) Asceticism. and parasitism than to wickedness. before whose eyes the useful State official hovers as an ideal to be striven for. in regard to the opinions which w e derive from our powers . What is it that one learns in a hard school"? to obey and to command. tests are devised for everything except for the most important thing of all: whether a man can will. yet to bring to light the natural utility and necessity of asceticism for the purpose of the education of the will. — : — — — taining the capacity for taking pleasure in all good things (for instance. Our ridiculous world of education.426 to THE GERMAN CLASSICS .

but out of the way of a stepping out of the daily round of one's environment. high-spirits. to cease from being amiable for a while one ought also to have fast days for one's virtues). — the help of a moral formula: this is the standard which measures the extent to which a man is able to say Yea to nature. they must first read before they can think). influences. for instance a kind of profound introspection and self-recovery. as the result the devil. his own much or how little he has to The foolish physiological fact must be conDeath. so oppressive as to send all festive moods to By feasts we understand: pride.APHORISMS 427 music for a while. it : — to feel the presence of Christians and Christian values as oppressive. Temporary isolation with severe seclusion from all letters. how have recourse to morality. as " a golden very basis of morality — .. (3) The monastery. i. One should live in such a that one may have the will to die at the right time! way (6) — 925 marginal note to a niaiserie anglaise: il Do not to others that which you would not that they should do unto you. the duties temptations. exuberance. a divine saying of Yea to one's self. which does not go out of . namely." this stands as the A This stands for wisdom. and does not allow it to gather volume until bursts into spontaneous activity (let anybody examine our scholars closely they only think reflexively. e. of physical plentitude and perfection the Christian cannot honestly say Yea. A man must be very coarse in order not (4) Feasts. a detachment from the tyranny of stimuli and external way of ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' . this stands for prudence. The courage of one's own nature: dressing up in To be able to call one's passions good without morality. which condemns us to expend our power only in reactions. — all states to which A feast is a pagan thing par (5) excellence. — . scorn of all kinds of seriousness and Philistinism. verted into a moral necessity.

this. ." forbids actions which produce harmful results. the probability of getting one. . Nobody can pay be done is to me back for anything I do." far from thinking that any man is able to do anything at all like it: the action belongs to me. 926 Against John Stuart Mill. the most that can make me the victim of another action. . . John Stuart Mill believes in it (and what Englishman does not?) But the maxim does not bear The argument. . I am very thing as requital. but the prospect of one. be done by. consequently there can be no such " When I do anything. . are we not intentionally indifferent as to what result they will bring? To avoid an action which might have harmful results that would be tantamount to forbidding all decent ." you would not that they should do unto you. In this community equivalence of actions is really an equivalence which never under any cirbelieved in cumstances manifests itself in real conditions. He too does not desire to have a bullet through him. — actions in general. I abhor the man's vul" What is garity when he says right for one man is right " Do not to others that which for another. the thought behind always is that an action is invariably What if some one came forward with the requited." Such principles would : — . It is impos- Apart from — — sible to requite every action: among real individuals equal . let us remember the Corsican who pledges his honor to vendetta. " Do not as you would not investigation." — . does not deter him from vindiAnd in all really decent actions cating his honor. actions do not exist. and said: actions alone which enable us to steal a march on others. the above maxim is valuable because it a certain type of man: it is the instinct of the herd betrays which formulates itself through him we are equal. maxim. " in his " " We must do those Principe hands. wo regard each other as equal: as I am to thee so art thou to me.428 THE GERMAN CLASSICS . . . and which deprive others of the power of doing the same " On the other to us? hand.

the most personal value of an action is simply canceled in this manner (that part of an action which has no equivalent and which cannot be remunerated). What then is needed ? Blood. that in a really profound sense a man never requites ment for something done : . inter pares).APHORISMS fain establish the whole of ices.) Wherever " people speak of the aristocracy of intellect. The only — — 943 What — External punctiliousness man is Noble? . because the latter believes in equality. that there is no such thing as equivalence (except in those very select circles where one actually has one's equal." 942 Nobility is that of Birth and Blood. with which stoical hardness and self-control protect themselves from all prying inquisitiveness or curiosity. because this punctiliousness about. because he bility something unique in himself and can only do this fundamental conviction contains the unique things cause of aristocratic aloofness from the mob. to the last degree it is taken for granted that there ignoble is some sort of equivalence in value between my actions and thine. so that 429 human traffic upon mutual serv- every action would appear to be a cash payThe hypothesis here is to us. and consequently in the feasiof and " is — equivalence reciprocity. (I do not refer here to the prefix "Lord" and L' almanac de Gotha: this is a parenthesis for donkeys. hedges a — . it is known to be a password among ambitious Jews. Intellect alone does not ennoble. something is always needed to ennoble intellect. A frivolous appearance in word. saves him from being confounded with somebody else." reasons are generally not lacking for concealing something. keeps him at a distance. clothing. " Reci" is a procity piece of egregious vulgarity the mere fact that what I do cannot and may not be done by another. and bearing. on the contrary.

There are not too many valuable things on earth: and these come and wish to come of themselves to him who has value. . that typical man of ambition. If there be a God. we do not appreciate it in a bourgeois sense. We are not to admire. who . but as creatures of a higher order than those. to others we do as we think best: we know that justice is only to be expected among equals (alas! this will not be realized for some time to come). the higher a man's nature the more is he in need of remaining incognito. then out of sheer decency He ought only to show Himself on earth in the form of a man. who only know how to do something. and even illness. We are always disguised. loneliness is not a us. like hens. matter of are convinced that we only have duties to our — We are ironical toward the "gifted. quick We know how to bear poverty. cackle pense honors: while he is not found too frequently who would be worthy of honoring us. We avoid small honors owing to our mistrust of all who are over-ready to praise: for the man who praises —A — — praises: stand — Balzac. However much — — lay eggs." we hold belief that no morality possible without good — We always as we were those who had to is equals. We are capable of otium. or after the manner of those insatiable and cackling artists who. the birth. it certainly reduces one's rank. — We protect artists and poets and any one who happens and and cackle to be a master in something. of the unconditional conviction that although a handicraft does not shame one in any sense. want. again. betrayed the fact — comprendre c'est egaler. — We it is imposed upon to us. — Our doubt concerning the communicativeness of our believes he understands what he but to under- hearts goes very deep choice. feel if dis- we may respect " industry." and know how to give it its due.430 THE GERMAN CLASSICS slow step and a slow glance.

simple as his Margaret. — We have a loathing of demagogism. as in small. What a treat it is to meet creatures who have only dancing and nonsense and finery in their minds! They have always been the delight of every tense and profound male soul." we do not confound ourselves forms and ceremonies. and at least symbolically. they actually uphold the belief in the difference of human values even in the estimation of — We we do not breathe a word of this in the presence of — We are able to endure long enmities: we lack the power of easy reconciliations. of enlightenment. including the freedom of the press and of thought. and we are convinced that courtesy is one of the greatest virtues. because in — big things. ironically we regard it when it on the airs of a rule put We love that which is naif. and plebeian familiarity. we feel suspicious of every kind of laisser alter. 431 men. because.APHORISMS are only " productive with them. delicate. We have a low estimation of good people. under such conditions. because they . We take pleasure in princes and in priests. of amiability. and stretches its limbs. collect fastidious souls. We — We — — want we wish to possess nothing in common. — We precious things. protest against evil and fine experiences. we would — We find joy in all fain foster everything formal. and naif people. are able to keep silence but listeners. whose life is burdened with heavy responsibilities. — We take pleasure in women as in a perhaps daintier. have our own books. our own landscapes. the intellect grows easy-going and coarse. the needs of higher and : the past. and take to care not to generalize too quickly. more and more ethereal kind of creature. but as spectators and higher creatures we think Faust is just as how The individual case: has the bad taste to ! .

and the hardest exterior. of comfort. not in words at all. That one leaves happiness to the greatest number: the happiness which consists of inner peacefulness. We are well aware that we are not recognized with ease. . That one instinctively seeks for heavy responsibilities. and that we have every reason to make our foreground very prominent. a la Spencer. at a pinch even in one's self. but by continually behaving differently from them. the this single grain most malicious. We don't regard a man of our kind as refuted by his vices. — 944 What is Noble 1 — The fact that one is constantly forced to be playing a part. That one contradicts the greatest number. and of Anglo-angelic-back-parlor-smugness. nor by his tomfooleries.•432 THE GERMAN CLASSICS are gregarious animals: we know how often an invaluable golden drop of goodness lies concealed beneath the most evil. of virtue. and that outweighs all the mere goody-goodiness of milk-and-watery souls. That one knows how to create enemies everywhere. That one is constantly searching for situations in which one is forced to put on airs.

' ' ! Would have deep. But Joy would have Eternity — . be. XV — 28 . Gondola. I a listener. what seem The words that from deep Midnight stream"? " I was asleep I have awakened from — my dream. Welling in golden drops. The Ayorld is deep. deeper far than Day could deem. be thou brief ' ! sighs Grief. too ? — Had Translator : Charles Wharton Stork.NIETZSCHE: POEMS 433 THE DRUNKEN SONG * MAN. Vol. to the barcarole's time. Over the quivering waters. Then the mystical strings Of my spirit. palace and tower Drunkenly swam in the luminous dark. deep Eternity VENICE* Lone on Shrouded the Riva I stood in dusky night. Deep is your Grief. invisibly touched. Yea. Far-off melody floated. But deeper Joy than Grief can ' Life. Trembling with secret Sang * delight.

common end. New York and London. unsated. I). permission Macmillan edited l>y Oscar Low. Care-destroying. New York and London. among the overpowered? For long watched this play so weirdly shaped. From Joyful Wisdom.. I know where I'm related. Till from each cup of balm you poison drink Alas anc[ by the Cross all helpless sink. With churchly fragrance. you who chafe A Disgusted more and more. t From Complete Work*. I know! TO RICHARD WAGNER f at every fetter's link. clouds of incense spread. Yes. WIND:}: Fellows for a * From Complete Works. in bonds still cowered.\ Levy. never free: Who. permission Macmillan & Co. thou art my friend! Surely 'twas one womb did bear us. lVtr. and flayed and scoured. Translator: % . Like the flame. unquenched. and dread. & Co. vault. in terror gaped. And yet I found all But now I throw For I escaped! strange. Surely 'twas one fate did pair us. I consume myself and glow: All's turned to light I lay my hand on. restless spirit. my fool's cap o'er my head A DANCING SONG TO THE MISTRAL Wildly rushing.434 THE GERMAN CLASSICS ECCE HOMO* Yes. edited by Oscar Miss M. Mistral wind. Breathing an air of prison. I am a flame. Heaven sweeping. All to coal that I abandon. though victorious aye. clouds outleaping. you I too.. ! You too. edited by Oscar Levy.

you bound across the ocean. cliffs all the edges. Saw you from your chariot swinging. in a waterfall. victorious. Tumbling Saw you rushing over Heaven. strong. Urging on the steeds anew. . finding dances new! Let our knowledge be our gladness. So that swifter downward springing Like an arrow you might go Straight into the deep abysses. Swifter than with boat or wing How ! Through my dreams your whistle sounded. Saw the lash that wheeled and quivered. Saw the car in which you flew. As a sunbeam falls and kisses Roses in the morning glow. Like a river. Unimpeded. free in motion. Running fast I come to meet you. Ever All that's joyful shall be true ! . Let our art be sport and madness. Dance. and mountain ledges. swift and glorious. oh! dance on "Wave-crests. 435 From Dancing while you pipe and sing. "While the hand that held it shivered.NIETZSCHE: POEMS the crags I gaily greet you. Down To the rocky stairs I bounded the golden ocean wall Saw you hasten. "With your steeds so wildly driven.

take a token Of the joy thou hast awoken. But for men of visage bold. — . Whirl it on before thee ever. Toss it up and catch it never. our heaven clear we see .436 THE GERMAN CLASSICS Let us snatch from every bower. clouds of sadness. Those who come must move as quickly As the wind we'll have no sickly. Saint and witch together prancing. Take our wreath and fling it far. . As we Then. Till it reach the farthest star. Crippled. Proper folk and prosy teachers. Sweep away all sad grimaces. pass. Let us foot it up and down. best fellow. Sweep them from our heaven blue. the fairest flower. Till m5r joy like tempest bellow ! me Freest thou of spirits free! When thou partest. Let hold thy hand. Whirl the dust into the faces Of the dismal sick and cold! Hunt them from our breezy places. Not for them the wind that braces. withered. With some leaves to make a crown like minstrels gaily . in our crew Off with hypocrites and preachers. dancing. Off with those who Blow away Till all spoil earth's gladness.

permission William A. so that I need Listen and heed Why dost thou tempt me. dost thou greet? " — << Nay.NIETZSCHE: POEMS 437 THE WANDERER* There goes a wanderer through the night With lusty gait. My voice is rife To tempt anear a little What is't to thee? Alone is wife — What Thou is't to night not fair to me. seeketh out his unknown road. The crooked valley and the height Upon him wait. wanderer. From A Genealogy The Macmillan Company. thee? So were it best go. bird. nay! The gentle bird was dumb and said: Be comforted. my feet. piteous wanderer! Translators : of Morals. Ah. Pourest heart's languishing so sweet Into my ear. Blithe is the night — He He ' ' stands not still. never rest! Why How " Thee. wanderer? stay 'at thou yet? should my mellow music stir The gentle bird was dumb and thought: How should my flute-song tell him aught? He The * does not stir — piteous. he strides abroad. . Haussmann and John Gray. and never. New York. * There sings a bird through the night. thou hast me in despite ! Why dost thou hold my thought.

wounded and impaired I sought the place where blew the sharpest air. amazed! better were indignation! I'm — — he no more? Changed gait and face and eye. oft self -overthrowing? Too oft 'gainst his By 1 his own victory own force with wax declared. longing for you poses The breeze-tossed cloud still loftier than of vore To spy you out where highest eagles soar. New York. — — Aloft from you my board is bounteous spread: — Whose habitation So nigh both gulf and starry constellation? What sovereign e'er o'er wider realms did tread? My fragrant honey — whom hath ! it e'er fed? Ye come.438 THE GERMAN CLASSICS FROM LOFTY MOUNTAINS* life Delightful garden land Fair summer station! 0. permission I lie Macmillan Company. how / belie Your expectation? Ye stop. restless bliss in watchful expectation For friends I wait both day and night attend. self -outgrowing? also. Became a ghost haunting the glaciers bare? — * Translator: Helen Ziminern. . There chose my dwelling. Where are ye. Where no one dwelt those ice-bear zones repelling. Unlearned man and God and curse and prayer. Bedeck with roses? The brooklet seeks you. Aye A wrestler. friends? Oh. my friends but ah. come! The time's at hand! ! ! noon of — : — Doth not for you today the glacier hoar. From Beyond Good and Evil. with my first self compared. to No more you the signs of friend imply? Another now.

More than all arrows Hence. — — . they are ! — what youthful longing. . love and terror — — were an error. which the hand it soils and makes a brand. Friends we were once? like fragrant rose decay withered word. ! — — What ever bound us. like chamois ! of old. so steep. " " They say: They look at me. be safe in flight ! ! . Advancing age hath banished them away: Who change can only 'mong my kindred stay. Thus friends no more. — I'm now a hunter vicious! — See how. and like to me inspired. whose pallid faces peep. . The strongest only such a force attaining! But ah! Dangerous is now that arrow's might. T — Which love once w rote thereon in symbols hallowed? To parchment I compare it. common hope's bless 'd bond Who reads signs pallid. Unwilling grasps. nor for past memories care thou yet hast better youth to spare! Once young heart. Ye go? enough thou hadst to bear Thy hope remaining: doors keep open now. leap. new friends attaining! Thy Let go the old.NIETZSCHE: POEMS 439 —Ye friends With To lodge here Forgive me! Go! Amidst such realms of ice. tight My bow is straining. Whom changed I deemed. and rocks One must a hunter be. — name have they? Friends' apparition! They haunt my door and heart for recognition. liable to stray! Friends I desired.

— . ' : — — — . the friend at the right season. We celebrate. restless bliss in watchful expectation: For friends I wait both day and night attend. . now sure of conquering might. . .440 THE GERMAN CLASSICS ! ! life A second youthful land Fair summer station! 0. rent is the veil of night The marriage of the darkness and the light. come! The time's at hand! noon of — — — This song is o 'er. lustra: The grandest — The guest of guests arrived. For the new friends! Oh. . . The noonday friend but why should I explain It was at noon when one was changed to twain. friend Zarathustra! The world now smiles. the longings sweet refrain Ceased with good reason By charmer's spell.

The third. M. four volumes.. shows how the power of writings may be due to outside influences his words were borne on the For just this reason objection may be wings of music. They stand before us as an impressive work. Surely his speeches have stirred the world. together with those of the emperor. LL. The fashion of the hour may bring to an undeserved popularity a book without higher values. A message may not please every one. [441] . to 1912. Richard Wagner. remind us how slowly even powerful books may gain influence. Not a few of their words impressed themselves deeply on the imagination of his people. and his thoughts stimulated the discussion of the . before it is forgotten forever. may be measured by the standards of literary achievement. Professor of Psychology. The classical value of a writer's work may be recognized must be by two very different tests.D. which. fill the pages of this volume.. Litt. moreover. raised against applying such a test to the volumes of the emperor. One is its widespread influence on mankind. Yet this test is never fully convincing.D. If selections from these four volumes are to be linked with the classics of the German language.. more than twelve hundred pages. Schopenhauer and Nietzsche had died before their philosophy began to shape the world of thought. when he came to the fill the Kaiser from throne. quite apart from its political importance. Harvard University [HE speeches and addresses of 1888. Millions have discussed them. On the other hand. this inner significance and strength of justified by the this imperial contribution to the world's literature.EMPEROR WILLIAM II AS A NATIONAL TYPE Ph.D. but if it is discussed by friends and foes. the fate of two of those men whose works. it must somehow excel the superficial writings of the day. By Hugo Munsterberg.D.

This test applies truly to the inner qualities of a man's work and gives the stamp of finality to his labor. There was once a time when the spirit of the fatherland could be brought into the simple formula a land of thinkers and poets and dreamers. But there is another test which more fundamental. When motives. Emperor William's speeches cannot be omitted from this series of German leaders. if the emperor had not been throughout that quarter of a century the sincere spokesman of all those strivingimpulses in the soul of the German people. Surely the age it is a transition period in which the is not a simple one old and the new. in high tension and restlessness. the passing and the coming. . where the largest army of Europe may stands behind every speech. Where every word is lifted above the level of common talk through the tremendous responsibility of an emperor. are often in The German mind is torn by conbewildering contrast. which may well be applied to many others. The question is not how far an author impresses his time and his nation the question is how far his nation and his is : time express themselves in him. because they are the perfectly fitting and convincing expression of the German mind in the age of his reign. the world's attention would be secured. even by the expressions of a mind which could not be counted among test of the truly great authors of Germany. and the struggle of the parties be decided by a royal phrase. the nation celebrated the twenty-fifth anniversary of the flicting emperor's government.442 THE GERMAN CLASSICS civilized nations. That was the past of political : Those were already helplessness and industrial weakness. the enthusiasm and the gratitude would not have taken such a unified and overwhelming form. Yet it is impossible to determine how much this momentous influence resulted from the inner power of these speeches and how much from the imperial position of their author. Hence the mere is influence. not decisive in this exceptional case. The bygone times . when the emperor came to manhood.


I . emperor WillIAm i ii . of other tal.



as a nation at leisure with abundant time for beauty in every form. But this is not intellectual life the only aspect under which Germany may today be called. Its most characteristic form . it has found new aims for higher development. and now. on every social level. The hard schooling of two centuries of poverty has not been lost. It is a nationalism which feels itself in contrast to a colorless and characterless cosmopolitanis common to all civilized nations ism of the past. It is a country of incessant toil and indefatigable effort. and that duty is not without drudgery and not without hardship.EMPEROR WILLIAM Germany II 443 of the last three decades has secured an economic advance which is unparalleled. In turning from an agrarian to an industrial life it has become a rival to the richest nations on earth. Germany appears now as an army of laborers. perhaps with contrasts. One more contrast strike every visitor to the new Germany. must and the man in the midst means duty. rather exaggerating the impor- tance of lovemaking and of luxury. which at last asserts the rights of the German united states and which puts its faith in the sword of the army: it is an internationalism which relies on the politics of cultural exchange and which has fostered peace now longer than any other great nation. Yet with this new commercial progress the old longing for leadership in art and knowledge and has not decreased. Yet this same people may strike the superficial observer as if pleasure-seeking were its central aim. On the contrary. moreover. a land of conscious of Germany's mission and which believes enthusiastically in the message of the German spirit to all the world goes together with A nationalism which is a no less deep-rootecl internationalism which emphasizes what and which seeks to learn everywhere. taking life easily. No serious spectator. still more fitness than America. can overlook the antagonism between the aristocratic and the democratic tendencies in the German soul today. They seem to live The boy in the classroom of his vocation know that life in joy.

They are not : means to serve individuals. No German personality has given to the literature of the world such a powerful and such a complete expression of these opposing energies in the German mind as Emperor William II. in strikingcontrast to this. richness of parties and social structure. its decentralization of the centralized emIf all these contrasting desires were to be brought pire.444 THE GERMAN CLASSICS can be found in the rivalry of individualism and antiFor the German individualistic impulses in the nation. national mind is filled lie ideal ends which vidual persons. it might be said that it is a contrast of realism and idealism. He does not want to fulfil his task just This gives to the its in his particular as his neighbor its German life its manifoldness and complicated inner variety. does. lectual equilibrium. movement which would increase the strength of agriculture. for personal differentiation. but every one German longing must serve it way. This is the true greatness of his contribution The whole richness of the to the documents of his time. for individual liberty. But now. find their natural outlet in these speeches of the political leader. but its mere individuals nothing. Every one aims to serve that which lies beyond the old individual. for the eternal right of the inborn personality. the final aim is never the individual his aim is the growth of science and art and religion and state. He knows and values those practical energies which have forged the tools of Gorman industry and commerce on the anvil of modern As a realist. The but the individuals have to be loyal to these ideals. to one fundamental antithesis. as they appear to other nations. the whole complexity of this intelconflicting impulses. Truly the emperor speaks and acts as a powerful realist. . apparently unhampered by any romanticism or idealism or mysticism. ho has encouraged every economic history. the events of history have not changed that by an almost mystical belief in those far beyond any mere grouping of indiThe community and its symbols are all. the whole struggle of these realistic and idealistic forces.

keeping cautiously away from transmarine adventures. Every nerve of the of emperor's personality is alive to this threefold task. and that they have all found work and stayed at home since the net of factories covers the land. demanded the protection of commerce. less A strong navy was the necessary by-product of the new economic development and growth. Superficial observers have treated this passion for a strong navy as a kind of personal whim. He wants a more practical. And yet this is than half the truth. but that it was above all the truest expression of the national longings. must demand colonies and the This resounds solemnly backing of a powerful navy. he insists on training through sport. and rejoices in the triumphs of German technique in the expansion of German commerce. Three con- He ditions were necessary for the of this realistic stability and the full devel- modern Germany.EMPEROR WILLIAM the traditional source of to industrialism. and every new which has made the country rich. The opment power nation had to cultivate the interest in science. he aids the creation of new institutes for scientific research: carefully planned to make the Germans masters of the art of controlling nature and of imposing human everything is will on the natural world. tendency He knows that millions left Germany because the agrarian state could not support them. But the new industrial life. The deeper truth fills is that this is longing for the sea which the emperor's heart deep- . had to build a navy *and had to secure peace. They have not understood that just this was not only the historical necessity of the emperor's reign. more modern education for the German youth. throughout the speeches of the emperor. Surely the Germans had been satisfied for a long while with plowing their acres and with protecting their boundaries against their enemies. he pushes forward everything which helps the technical sciences. This new German strength. which meant exchange with the countries of the globe. II 445 German income. which seeks the markets of the lands beyond the sea.

The realistic valuation of the historical conditions demanded that all remain under control of the resolution to keep peace and to further international This is the topic which returns in ever new friendship. deeply embedded in man the German mind. but as the one who had done more than any other single individual for the unbroken continuation However much that activity was of international peace. Yet such a powerful navy for the protection of German commerce and German interests all over the globe would not have reached its realistic aim. He who was feared as the warlord. going on behind the scenes in diplomatic secrecy. however. rooted in the soul of the Whoever traces struggling through the past must recognize that a battle of the ships has always been beginning anew. forms in the imperial speeches. from the victories of the Germanic tribes at the time of the great migrations to the powerful development of the German Hansa. who renews the great days of German seafaring and builds again a powerful navy. since the earliest centuries of German German history. This realist on the throne. he who came to the throne in the exuberance of youth.446 THE GERMAN CLASSICS German nation. not a small share of this historical service to his nation and to the world was performed through the ringing words of these masterly speeches. is conserving for the Gerpeople its old German tradition. at the twenty-fifth anniversary of his government was celebrated not only as the monarch who had never drawn the sword. and that the power of the sea has tempted the Germans at all times. would be entirely misunderstood. not be that perfect interpreter of the German nation at the beginning of the twentieth century. if the idealism which forms the real back- The emperor would his mind were disregarded. It was only the misery of later times but he which narrowed down the longing of the German people. if the realism and ground of . if the impulses in the imperial mind had used those tools of power for a policy of conquest and war.

This idealism is reflected most immediately in the em- The third great peror's attitude toward religion and art. in such blame? The question is not what stand indulges he ought to take as a private connoisseur but what influence Whatever he may like or and art. As to art and literature. it is his duty as emperor to indorse that which has slowly grown and which is the safe and secure product of German development as against the over-modem. It is living religion which sounds through his sermons. but only when the new field is conquered can the people as a whole follow and take possession. It has often been claimed that the German nation is progressive. and that the emperor wil- fully opposes the pioneers and exerts his influence in reac- But may it not be superficiality which tionary caprices. . of honor and symbolism. of 'attitude toward the world. The tent of the emperor must not be raised where the skirmishes of the advance guard are to be fought. If the emperor were to rush he ought to exert as emperor. the German people itself has often been doubtful whether the monarch did reallv recognize the meaning of beauty in the sense in which the finest spirits in the land interpreted it. dislike as an individual in literature forward with the most adventurous spirits in bold dashes. and every speech to his soldiers and sailors breathes that spirit of belief and enthusiasm which is never born of realistic calculations but of the idealistic sense for historic traditions. The forward march of literature and art and science must always be led by individual geniuses and talents. Even his relation to army and navy. shows itself first of all as a tie of love and romanticism. But the message of the church has certainly filled his conscience with deep and intimate emotion. has not type interested him yet.EMPEROR WILLIAM II 447 idealism were not so thoroughly interwoven in his actions and in his utterances. philosophy. often hasty demands to break out untried paths. the best and most brilliant must help. is seeking new paths in art and literature. those mighty instruments of realistic energies.

is called to cultivate idealism. to claim that this is foreign to the GerOn the contrary. whenever he speaks about the tinguished Yet it would again be role which he himself has to play. He is fully conscious of his great rights and powers and asserts them in forceful words. volumes of his speeches contain many an inspiring word of ideal belief in the true and great mission of art and beauty. A more than hasty man in a nation itself. in the individual personalities must meaning tlie secure the heads of their states by elections. only if he warns against the rush toward eccentric innovations and remains above the partisanship But the of individuals in the realm of cultural endeavor. He said to them that his father had educated him in a school of idealism and that when he came to the throne. tenth anniversary of one to his officers. who may be now in the right and now in the wrong. In his taste and judgment the whole history of his nation must be crystallized. and yet nothing pervades these human documents so thoroughly as the spirit of duty and obligation and the wholehearted submission to the tremendous tone of mysticism can easily be disresponsibilities. but the historical position of the whole. and here too the emperor is expressing only find their true Nations which instincts of his people. who must represent not his personal inclinations. above all. he made only two speeches. This idealism characterizes most markedly the ideas con- cerning his own position on the throne. his reign. in his orations. he felt that the theatre.448 THE GERMAN CLASSICS he would become just such a single individual. but he would no longer be a true emperor. He certainly never takes art lightly. this mystical belief more than human task is the true meaning of the Germans' belief in monarchy. A faith in beauty ennobles his joyfulness and optimism. and for this reason the emperor fulfils his function. and one to the staff of the royal theatres. and even in At the the theatre he sees the fulfilment of a sacred task. a president . In a realistic age he believes devotedly and almost naively in the inspiration of pure imaginative beauty.

now from this. but nothing could be more mistaken than an effort modern mind. This symbolic function penetrates all the thinking and feeling of the emperor. less full of inner tension. as we saw. have not seldom met such opposition.EMPEROR WILLIAM II 449 gains his whole power from the individual wills of the millions of single men. their rationidealism. and yet. But the German nation has always true meaning in the inherited totality. they would not really express the nation and the time. The crown of the his true him to a masterful ability to merge his personality into this over-personal task. now from that side. have been criticized they are the faithful expression of the conflicting impulses Their realism and their and ideas of the nation itself. by religious differences and by social strifes. a historical idealism which the emperor shares with the nation as a whole. that is. they were XV — 29 . and must to put it into contrast with the outfit of a It is the logical expression of A generate much opposition to any opinions and thoughts. reflect all the best which is living today in the vigorous nation between the Baltic Sea and the Alps. accordingly. The emperor gains independence of the will emperor becomes a symbol of the unified whole through this remoteness from every struggle of parties. Vol. The emperor's speeches. its its head must be determined by historical tradition. This may be called a mystical element. their naturalism and their mysticism. taken as a whole. unless they are entirely colorless. by economic antagonisms. cannot possibly be unanimous on any problems of the day. and his whole education for the throne has trained power from this full of individuals. so separated by political conflicts. people so deeply individualistic as the Germans. if The very contrast of their thoughts is their unity. they and have been attacked. above all struggle and conflict of wills among indihigh found Hence viduals. they would have no place among the German classics. alism and their romanticism. and its duty in conserving the German spirit is a common ideal.

1889 [The Emperor received a deputation of the Westphalian Association of Mine-owners. [450] . Hammacher. Dr. and because another strike is threatened in Silesia. In that address I sharply defined the stand I have taken. The miners. PH. as follows:] ENTLEMEN! have granted you this audiis clearly the duty of the monarch to hear both sides. gentlemen. made an excellent impression on me. what I said to the miners — it was printed in all the papers yesterday. They have refrained from any alliance with the Social Democrats. EMPLOYERS AND EMPLOYEES May 16. Day and I am glad Westphalia come to an end as soon as possible. and I am pleased that the miners have pointedly rejected the attempts of the Social Democrats to meddle in their affairs. me Telegrams from laboring circles in Westphalia have shown that my words have touched there a responsive chord. and replied to an address by their spokesman. I must say.EMPEROR WILLIAM SELECTIONS II FROM HIS SPEECHES TRANSLATED BY EDMUND VON MACH. I wish above everything advice. induced to see the big strike in there by that in your province. when his subjects are at variance with one another and confidently turn to the head of the State for I ence because it before yesterday I listened to the workmen. You know.D. to see you here today. I am still waiting for full reports from my officials concerning the cause of the strike and how it may be settled. because it seriously hurts all our people.

The . If you. Let me emphasize one thing which from my point of view is important. in your capacity negotiations of chairman of the association of mine-owners. on the other hand. and strain every nerve to prevent the recurrence of conditions which entail hardships for the inhabitants of an entire province. suggest that the mine-owner associations and their organs hereafter keep in close touch with the miners They will then not again be ignorant of the approach of similar disturbances for this strike cannot have developed offhand. on this occasion. May I. to see to it that the miners are given the opportunity of formulating their wishes. and not in vain to have their fellow laborers resume their — work as soon as possible. gentlemen. have had with the laborers and I wish to express to you my appreciation of your having met the miners half way and thereby laying the foundation for an understanding. these deputies were truly representative. voicing the views of all the Westphalian miners. and if they should as such approve your overtures. I have great confidence in their sane patriotism. this is of no consequence. should assume that the of miners whom I received the other day did not deputation . Hammacher. They should take excellent care of their laborers. this strike started prematurely. represent the leaders of the people who are striking.SPEECHES OF EMPEROR WILLIAM The Secretary of II 451 the Interior has informed me of the which you. It' is. And above everything do not lose sight of the fact that corporations which -ask Let me you employ a large number of my subjects have a duty to perform to the State and the interested communities. of course. If. and that ! . Indeed I have been told that preparations for a general strike had been made. for even if this deputation spoke only for a fraction of all the laborers and expressed only the views of these few people the moral effect of an attempt at an understanding is very great. human for everybody to wish to secure for himself as favorable circumstances as possible. and believe that they will exert their influence. Dr.

and to do so to the degree to which they themselves are endeavoring to foster the interests of all their fellowmen by cultivating harmony among themselves and guarding against the recurrence of similar future. I ask you to judge carefully each given case. Naturally they wish to share in these profits. When there are differences of opinion between employers and their employees. I deem it my duty as King to grant my assistance to both. gentlemen. For these reasons. if possible. .452 THE GERMAN CLASSICS workingmen read the newspapers and know what proportion their wages bear to the profits of the corporations. and to avoid. similar difficulties in the I can do no better than to urge that the work which chairman began successfully yesterday should soon your be carried to a good end. disturbances.

NEEDED IMPROVEMENT IN THE CONDITIONS OF THE WORKING PEOPLE February [The Emperor had taken the 14. The Council of State met on February 14. which directed the Chancellor and the Ministers of Public Works and of Commerce to call a conference. the position of woman in the house [453] . expedience. which most varied walks of life and consequently enjoys the knowledge of many practical experiences. should judge with care and without prejudice my proposed suggestions. man should enjoy against an arbitrary and limitless exploitation of his labor. which has the constitutional right to pass on them is finally. I deem it composed of men of the important that the Council. and its first session was opened by the Emperor with the following address:] ENTLEMEN OF THE COUNCIL OF STATE You have been informed by my February 4. The duty to which I have summoned you. in the Royal Castle at Berlin. as to their advisability. It is in keeping with the dignified position which the Council enjoys within the State that the important questions which in this field are still waiting for a favorable solution should receive your thorough consideration before they are formulated into bills and submitted to parliament. the limitation of child labor with reference to the dictates of humanity and of the laws of natural development. by a decree issued on February 4. ! decree of that it is my wish to hear the advice of the Council concerning the necessary steps for a better regulation of the conditions of our laborers. 1890 initiative in the execution of his frequently expressed ideas concerning the care of the working people. is solemn and The protection which the workingfull of responsibility. and general bearing.

Only by a high degree of wise circumspection can you avoid this danger. and of equal importance with it. and that they will be entitled to negotiate with their employers and thus safeguard their to own interests. Unless you do this. people immediately concerned. the improvements which I desire would turn out to be harmful to the economic condition of the workingmen. of keeping in touch with them and of obtaining reliable information of the living conditions of the workingmen. without interfering with the profitable employment of labor owing to the competition in the markets of the world. and the government officials the chance of listening to the lations. which is morally and economically of the greatest importance for the family life and other — related problems. and to bring about in this way new laws and reguwhich will give the workingmen the opportunity of voicing freely and peaceably their wishes and demands.454 THE GERMAN CLASSICS of the laboring man. of these questions which are dominating our age is the more important. for you must consider to what extent our industries will be able to bear the greater burdens which stricter regulations in the interest of the workingmen entail. moreover. is the form of the guaranty which the employees are to be given that they will be represented in the regulation of their joint labor by men whom they trust. The favorable solution. In the task at hand I am trusting to the well known devotion of the Council of State. In everything your technical knowledge will have to guide your deliberations. as it has an obvious bearing on the international understanding in these matters which I have proposed. We should endeavor bring representatives of the workingmen in contact with the government officials who have a supervisory charge of the mines. for I know that not all desirable improvements along these lines can be made by . All these questions need a better solution than has as yet been found. Next to the assurance of friendly relations between the employers and their employees.

If by God 's mercy. you may rest assured of my thanks and of the appreciation of the nation. you succeed in offering suggestions which will satisfy the legitimate demands of the working classes. II 455 A broad and fertile field remains open to individual charity and to the church and the school. however.SPEECHES OF EMPEROR WILLIAM the sole initiative of the State. . all of which must assist and vivify our laws if the latter are to be really useful.

-t 1890 Steamer [Address at a banquet on board the North German Lloyd " Fulda. to observe with my own eyes the workings of the great North German Lloyd Company. and am delighted with the opportunity of realizing a wish I have long cherished. and in fulfilling this duty I am not unmindful of what the Lloyd Company has to perform. and offer visible proof of our technique. for commerce can thrive only when business is well pro- so far as this [466[ .THE GERMAN FLAG April 21. I can assure you that of compel me all the interests which my reign pursue few. if any. are dearer to me than the welfare of your society."] 'THANK you for your kind words of welcome. conceit. fills me with pride and satisfaction. The huge resplendent storehouse which we saw today is the mart of the many necessities which are to be sent to and my country abroad. Here in the hulls of fast North German Lloyd ships the products start on their trips to the four winds. in is possible. Wherever they go they have the right to show themselves foreigners. which plough their swift way through the seas. and the achievements of our merchant marine. namely. our efficiency. every new success which your fleet wins. every new line which you establish. Every new ship which you order. These splendid ships. I may say this without My chief duty obviously is the preservation of peace. proudly by the side of the best. are admired not only by Germans but also by Everywhere they carry the products of the fatherland. and not only me but many who are of a like mind with me.

arose as to how the change of course could take place. which gave the posi- tions of the several ships. our navy. like many another German. This picture was so overwhelming that all who were on the bridge with us.' ' . Glancing back we saw the bank of fog. Doubts. many a thing is not so dark as it is painted. therefore. But rest assured. but the waters were smooth. I am a passionate sailor and love to watch the signs of nature and. from this instance I conclude that however and dark the clouds may be which seem to threaten our fatherland. pierced only by the sounds of the shrill sirens. to draw my conclusions from them. the sky was blue and the morning sun gloriously bright. II 457 There may be moments when business men are apprehensive and uninitiated laymen seem to discern the approach of danger. ron in faultless order left the fog. involuntarily stood at attention watching Ten minutes later the whole squadthis marvel of nature. which had followed us. and sped along. to be changed. like a huge cloud.* There was not a sound except the shrieks of the sirens and the occasional cannon shots. the leader of the squadron. we Germans will succeed in overcoming darkness and uncerIf we press on we shall reach our goal in accordtainty. 1 1 ' ' suddenly came out of the bank of fog. following the new course ' ' ' ' Gentlemen. the German flag.SPEECHES OF EMPEROR WILLIAM tected. But it did take and about an hour later we on the Hohenzollern place. In discussing our international relations let me give you an instance drawn from nature. The fog see the chart house of At eight o 'clock the course was was so thick that one could not one's own ship. we had been in a dense fog since three in the morning. and our commerce. Suddenly we perceived seemingly high up in the clouds and borne as it were by the hands of angels. ance with the good motto: " We Germans fear God and thick the fog naught else in the world. When I was on my first trip with a squadron steaming through the Baltic Sea. There was a fresh breeze. It was an admiral's flag fluttering on the tall mast of the Kaiser. not to speak of the neighboring cruisers. resting on the sea.

gentlemen. 4. in keeping with the position which our fatherland enjoys in the world today. And your conference. Let us. for it is essential that you should understand the spirit as [458] I confess. and more I remain obscure. should not be kept in the dark concerning my own views. In the first place. matter simply a " Schulfrage. because I wish that you should know at once what my views in this matter are. Doubtless many things will be discussed which cannot be settled. The conference met on December the welcomed by cussion the Emperor as Emperor delivered the King of Prussia. > 1890 [The Emperor had issued invitations to forty-five influential men to gather in Berlin for the discussion of necessary reforms to be introduced in the Prussian Schools. and was During the dis- the following speech:] [ENTLEMEN! have requested a few more words with you. and perceive the danger of your being led to treat the whole question mechanically. It is.NEEDED REFORM OF THE PRUSSIAN SCHOOLS December c 4." I have read the fourteen articles of your programme. call the whole . the good old German word for a preliminary investigation. I should greatly regret this. is more or less in the nature of a preliminary investigation. Let me add right here that I should have been glad if we had not called these investigations and discussions by the French word school enquete but by the German word " " " " Schulfrage Frage (question) is (school-question). right that you. therefore. then. but with technical and pedagogical measures which we must take if we wish to prepare our youths for our present needs. let me say that we have to do here with will no political school-questions. I fear.

" Plans of " Methteaching the several subjects. possible to remove from the examinations everything but the essentials?". The official decree.SPEECHES OF EMPEROR WILLIAM well as the II 459 whole undertaking. for I too to expect of it have been in the Gymnasium and know what is done ripe fruit. therefore. would naturally form the material with which I could But this has not been speedily master this agitation. where should have taken a firm hold of the situation and should have instructed the growing generation so that the men today who are of about my own age. gentlemen. but only to If the school had done what we have a right the system. eighth. perfect at greater length." fifth. which the minister of education had the kindness to read to us. is the result of natural — there — it should have taken up the cudgels against social The Faculties everydemocracy of its own accord. and I can speak from experience. " Is it ods of teaching. Any one who chooses may study them The whole And the conclusions of your deliberations development. here I am convinced you will present to the nation like a and complete. How to* avoid in future overworking the pupils ! " " What kind of seventh. that is thirty. question. " School hygiene outside the a question which needs most careful thought ." further. noted down a few questions myself copies of which are now being distributed and I trust you will consider this form of — — them. There is in ' ' Gymnasium. I may make. officials?" I am placing these questions on the table. secondly. have reference to no one person. the case. " Shall there be a regular or an occasional supervision by the several higher ' ' . sixth. Reducing the subjects of instruction." further. " the first place. I have. supervision shall take place when the whole plan is worked out? ". The last time when our schools had a deter- . would not have been necessary if the schools had taken the position which they should have Let me say at once that any sharp remarks which taken.

is to be found in the education of the young. for I happen to stand on the top. . . I am surely a centrifugal tendencies have appeared judge in such matters. You. Councillor Hinzpeter. are an enthusiastic philologist. The chief cause is that since 1870 the philologists have sat in the high all and The reason schools as beati possidentes. and there we have stopped. With 1871 all this ceased. Mr. Every graduate who left the school and enlisted in the army or entered on his life's work agreed with everybody else on one point: The German Empire must be restored. and should have fired the young people with enthusiasm. If one discusses this subject with one of these philologists and tries to explain to him that a young life man should be prepared for and its demands in a practical way. The Empire was restored we had what we had longed for. — such questions are brought to me. But there are no signs that this has been done. was during the years from 1864 to 1870. This is evidenced by the very questions in the examinations. Now the school should have started on a new basis. for even today. placing the emphasis on the subject matter and its mastery and not on the formation of character and what is demanded by our modern life. propounded People have started with the idea that the pupil should know as much as possible and that it was immaterial whether this knowledge was adapted to the requirements of life or not. Then the Prussian schools and the Prussian Faculties were the bearers of the idea of union which was preached everywhere. Less emphasis has been placed on being able to do a thing than on knowing how it should be done. and Alsace-Lorraine be recaptured. so short a time after the creation of the Empire. but in spite of you I believe that matters have gone so far they cannot go farther.460 THE GERMAN CLASSICS mining influence on our whole national life and progress. then he replies that this is not the duty of the school. What is at fault? Many things are at fault. at least to some extent. and have taught them that the new State needs consolidation.

In thus discussing our schools and especially the Gymnasium I know very well that I am considered by many people to be a fanatical opponent of the Gymnasium. Indeed. I say. We a little where Latin and in addition Greek were all-important. Such fellows deserved blame instead of credit. The Latin theme is of importance to teach a youth a foreign tongue and I know not for what else." ! And among we were at best marked ' ' ' ' satisfactory. everything revolves. If in the examinations set for graduation a youth submits a perfect German theme.SPEECHES OF EMPEROR WILLIAM . for it is clear that they had not honestly composed their Latin essays. But when of illicit means. . many objections. of course. II 461 for the school should primarily train his mind and if his mind were highly trained then he would be able. this is not the case. therefore. and credit in their Latin themes. Gentlemen. gentlemen. thanks to I this training. and by some to be a partisan of other schools. There are. the should take German as the basis of the Gymnasium. I have seen instances of students who received barely a pass mark in their German themes. to do whatever life could demand of him. Such themes were called good " Minna von we were asked to write a theme on Barnhelm. tion of a medieval monastery. do not believe that we should follow such principles any longer. Every one who has been through the Gymnasium and looked behind the scenes knows what is at fault. the educalack of a national basis. We must leave behind us the standards of centuries. and educate nationally minded young Germans and not young Greeks or Romans. I have been through How is such a Latin theme composed? the mill myself. There is above everything. They are no longer the important things. every twelve Latin themes writthere is hardly one which is not the result of the use ten. German should be our educational founLet the German theme be the centre around which dation. you may know from this that he amounts to something. People say the Latin theme is also of importance.

geography. I am going to touch The government. Parents and whole families said: " Matters can no longer go on as Dr. Hinzpeter will remember that they have been going. if we present them objectively and in a grand outline the transition from the French Revolution to the nineteenth century. were not studied. I was enabled to learn of these things only through supplementary and most interesting lectures by Mr. When we are familiar with our own halls and chambers it is time to visit the museums and to look about there. began and we were required to hand the director . As to the time spent on the lessons in school there can be no doubt that the number of hours should be lessened. therefore. men But this is the very point. Councillor the French Revolution! Hinzpeter. In history." an investigation. with The Wars of Liberation. In the university later on they may improve and enlarge their to knowledge by supplementary lectures. The Great Elector was only a nebulous figure when I was in school. This is why I am convinced that our young men will have a far better understanding of our modern problems than they possess today. and mythology also I should like have the emphasis placed on what is nationally German. and the history course closed with the end of the last century. are our young led astray? are there so many confused would-be saviours of the world? is our government so fre- Why Why Why quently jeered at while foreign countries are praised? Because our young men do not know how our conditions have