The Fanatic of
Distrust
and his Surety.
Nietzsche - v07 - Human All-Too-Human - b
Whatever injury the individual nations
or periods may suffer in this testing process, they
have each become wise through this injury, and
from them the tide of wisdom slowly pours over
the principles of whole races and whole epochs.
Ants too go astray and make blunders. Through
the folly of its remedies, mankind may well go to
rack and ruin before the proper time. There is no
sure guiding instinct for the former or the latter.
Rather must we boldly face the great task of pre-
paring the earth for a plant of the most ample and
joyous fruitfulness—a task set by reason to reason!
190.
The Praise of Disinterestedness and its
Origin. — Between two neighbouring chieftains
there was a long-standing quarrel: they laid waste
each other's territories, stole cattle, and burnt down
houses, with an indecisive result on the whole, be-
cause their power was fairly equal. A third, who
from the distant situation of his property was able
to keep aloof from these feuds, yet had reason to
dread the day when one of the two neighbours
should gain a decisive preponderance, at last inter-
vened between the combatants with ceremonial
goodwill. Secretly he lent a heavy weight to
his peace proposal by giving either to understand
that he would henceforth join forces with the other
against the one who strove to break the peace.
## p. 291 (#333) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 2QI
They met in his presence, they hesitatingly placed
into his hand the hands that had hitherto been the
tools and only too often the causes of hatred—and
then they really and seriously tried to keep the
peace. Either saw with astonishment how suddenly
his prosperity and his comfort increased; how he
now had as neighbour a dealer ready to buy and
sell instead of a treacherous or openly scornful
evil-doer; how even, in unforeseen troubles, they
could reciprocally save each other from distress,
instead of, as before, making capital out of this dis-
tress of his neighbour and enhancing it to the highest
degree. It even seemed as if the human type had
improved in both countries, for the eyes had become
brighter, the forehead had lost its wrinkles; all now
felt confidence in the future—and nothing is more
advantageous for the souls and bodies of men than
this confidence. They saw each other every year
on the anniversary of the alliance, the chieftains as
well as their retinue, and indeed before the eyes of
the mediator, whose mode of action they admired
and revered more and more, the greater the profit
that they owed to him became. Then his mode of
action was called disinterested. They had looked
far too fixedly at the profit they had reaped them-
selves hitherto to see anything more of their neigh-
bour's method of dealing than that his condition in
consequence of this had not altered so much as their
own ; he had rather remained the same: and thus it
appeared that the former had not had his profit in
view. For the first time people said to themsel-
ves that disinterestedness was a virtue. It is true
that in minor private matters similar circumstances
## p. 292 (#334) ############################################
2«)2 HUMAN', ALL-TOO-OTTMAX.
had arisen, but men only had eyes for this virtue
when it was depicted on the walls in a large script
that was legible to the whole community. Moral
qualities are not recognised as virtues, endowed
with names, held in esteem, and recommended as
worthy of acquisition until the moment when they
have visibly decided the happiness and destiny of
whole societies. For then the loftiness of senti-
ment and the excitation of the inner creative forces
is in many so great, that offerings are brought to
this quality, offerings from the best of what each
possesses. At its feet the serious man lays his
seriousness, the dignified man his dignity, women
their gentleness, the young all the wealth of hope
and futurity that in them lies; the poet lends it
words and names, sets it marching in the procession
of similar beings, gives it a pedigree, and finally, as
is the way of artists, adores the picture of his fancy
as a new godhead—he even teaches others to adore.
Thus in the end, with the co-operation of universal
love and gratitude, a virtue becomes, like a statue,
a repository of all that is good and honourable, a
sort of temple and divine personage combined. It
appears thenceforward as an individual virtue, as
an absolute entity, which it was not before, and
exercises the power and privileges of a sanctified
super-humanity. —In the later days of Greece the
cities were full of such deified human abstractions
(if one may so call them). The nation, in its own
fashion, had set up a Platonic " Heaven of Ideas"
on earth, and I do not think that its inhabitants
were felt to be less alive than any of the old
Homeric divinities.
## p. 293 (#335) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 293
191.
Days of Darkness. —" Days of Darkness" is
the name given in Norway to the period when the
sun remains below the horizon the whole day long.
The temperature then falls slowly but continually. —
A fine simile for all thinkers for whom the sun of
the human future is temporarily eclipsed.
192.
The Philosophy of Luxury. —A garden, figs,
a little cheese, and three or four good friends—that
was the luxury of Epicurus.
193-
The Epochs of Life. —The real epochs of life
are those brief periods of cessation midway between
the rise and decline of a dominating idea or emotion.
Here once again there is satisfaction: all the rest is
hunger and thirst—or satiety.
194.
DREAMS. —Our dreams, if for once in a way they
succeed and are complete—generally a dream is a
bungled piece of work—are symbolic concatenations
of scenes and images in place of a narrative poeti-
cal language. They paraphrase our experiences or
expectations or relations with poetic boldness and
definiteness, so that in the morning we are always
astonished at ourselves when we remember the
nature of our dream. In dreams we use up too
much artistry—and hence are often too poor in
artistry in the daytime.
## p. 294 (#336) ############################################
294 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
195-
Nature and Science. — As in nature, so in
science the worse and less fertile soils are first
cultivated—because the means that science in its
early stages has at command are fairly sufficient for
this purpose. The working of the most fertile soils
requires an enormous, carefully developed, perse-
vering method, tangible individual results, and an
organised body of well-trained workers. All these
are found together only at a late stage. —Impa-
tience and ambition often grasp too early at these
most fertile soils, but the results are then from the
first null and void. In nature such losses would
usually be avenged by the starvation of the settlers.
196.
The Simple Life. —A simple mode of life is
nowadays difficult, requiring as it does farmore re-
flection and gift for invention than even very clever
people possess. The most honourable will perhaps
still say, "I have not the time for such lengthy
reflection. The simple life is for me too lofty a goal:
I will wait till those wiser than I have discovered
it. "
197.
Peaks andNeedle-Points. —The poor fertility,
the frequent celibacy, and in general the sexual
coldness of the highest and most cultivated spirits,
as that of the classes to which they belong, is
essential in human economy. Intelligence recog-
nises and makes use of the fact that at an acme of
## p. 295 (#337) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 295
intellectual development the danger of a neurotic
offspring is very great. Such men are the peaks of
mankind — they ought no longer to run out into
needle-points.
198.
Natura nonfacitsaltum. —However strongly
man may develop upwards and seem to leap from
one contradiction to another, a close observation
will reveal the dovetails where the new building
grows out of the old. This is the biographer's task:
he must reflect upon his subject on the principle
that nature takes no jumps.
199.
Clean, but He who clothes himself with
rags washed clean dresses cleanly, to be sure, but is
still ragged.
200.
The Solitary Speaks. —In compensation for
much disgust, disheartenment, boredom—such as
a lonely life without friends, books, duties, and
passions must involve—we enjoy those short spans
of deep communion with ourselves and with Nature.
He who fortifies himselfcompletely against boredom
fortifies himself against himself too. He will never
drink the most powerful elixir from his own inner-
most spring.
201.
False Renown. —I hate those so-called natural
beauties which really have significance only through
science, especially geographical science, but are in-
## p. 296 (#338) ############################################
296 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
significant in an aesthetic sense: for example, the
view of Mont Blanc from Geneva. This is an in-
significant thing without the auxiliary mental joy of
science: the nearer mountains are all more beautiful
and fuller of expression, but "not nearly so high,"
adds that absurd depreciatory science. The eye
here contradicts science: how can it truly rejoice in
the contradiction?
202.
Those that Travel for Pleasure. — Like
animals, stupid and perspiring, they climb moun-
tains: people forgot to tell them that there were
fine views on the way.
203.
Too Much and Too Little. —Men nowadays
live too much and think too little. They have
hunger and dyspepsia together, and become thinner
and thinner, however much they eat. He who now
says " Nothing has happened to me" is a blockhead.
204.
End and Goal. —Not every end is the goal.
The end of a melody is not its goal, and yet if
a melody has not reached its end, it has also not
reached its goal. A parable.
205.
Neutrality of Nature on a Grand Scale.
—The neutrality of Nature on a grand scale (in
## p. 297 (#339) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 297
mountain, sea, forest, and desert) is pleasing, but
only for a brief space. Afterwards we become im-
patient. "Have they all nothing to say to us?
Do we not exist so far as they are concerned? "
There arises a feeling that a lese-majesti is com-
mitted against humanity.
206.
Forgetting our Purpose. —In a journey we
commonly forget its goal. Almost every vocation
is chosen and entered upon as means to an end, but
is continued as the ultimate end. Forgetting our
purpose is the most frequent form of folly.
207.
Solar Orbit of an Idea. —When an idea is
just rising on the horizon, the soul's temperature is
usually very low. Gradually the idea develops in
warmth, and is hottest (that is to say, exerts its
greatest influence) when belief in the idea is already
on the wane.
208.
How to have every Man against You. —
If some one now dared to say, "He that is not
for me is against me," he would at once have all
against him. —This sentiment does credit to our era.
209.
Being Ashamed of Wealth. —Our age endures
only a single species of rich men—those who are
J
## p. 297 (#340) ############################################
296
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
significant in an æsthetic sense : for example, the
view of Mont Blanc from Geneva. This is an in-
significant thing without the auxiliary mental joy of
science: the nearer mountains are all more beautiful
and fuller of expression, but “not nearly so high,"
adds that absurd depreciatory science. The eye
here contradicts science: how can it truly rejoice in
the contradiction ?
202.
THOSE THAT TRAVEL FOR PLEASURE. — Like
animals, stupid and perspiring, they climb moun-
tains : people forgot to tell them that there were
fine views on the way.
203.
Too MUCH AND Too LITTLE. —Men nowadays
live too much and think too little. They have
hunger and dyspepsia together, and become thinner
and thinner, however much they eat. He who now
says “ Nothing has happened to me" is a blockhead.
204.
END AND GOAL. --Not every end is the goal.
The end of a melody is not its goal, and yet if
a melody has not reached its end, it has also not
reached its goal. A parable.
205.
NEUTRALITY OF NATURE ON A GRAND SCALE.
-The neutrality of Nature on a grand scale (in
## p. 297 (#341) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW.
297
mountain, sea, forest, and desert) is pleasing, but
only for a brief space. Afterwards we become im-
patient. “Have they all nothing to say to us?
Do we not exist so far as they are concerned ? ”
There arises a feeling that a lèse-majesté is com-
mitted against humanity.
206.
FORGETTING OUR PURPOSE. —In a journey we
commonly forget its goal. Almost every vocation
is chosen and entered upon as means to an end, but
is continued as the ultimate end. Forgetting our
purpose is the most frequent form of folly.
207.
SOLAR ORBIT OF AN IDEA. —When an idea is
just rising on the horizon, the soul's temperature is
usually very low. Gradually the idea develops in
warmth, and is hottest (that is to say, exerts its
greatest influence) when belief in the idea is already
on the wane.
208.
HOW TO HAVE EVERY MAN AGAINST YOU. -
If some one now dared to say, “He that is not
for me is against me," he would at once have all
against him. -This sentiment does credit to our era.
209.
BEING ASHAMED OF WEALTH. –Our age endures
only a single species of rich men—those who are
## p. 298 (#342) ############################################
298 HCJCAX, AIA-TOO-HTMJLS.
ashamed of their wealth. If we hear it said of
any one that he is very rich, we at once feel a similar
sentiment to that experienced at the sight of a re-
pulsively swollen invalid, one suffering from diabetes
or dropsy. We must with an effort remember our
humanity, in order to go about with this rich man
in such a way that he does not notice our feeling of
disgust . But as soon as he prides himself at all on
his wealth, our feelings are mingled with an almost
compassionate surprise at such a high degree of
human unreason. We would fain raise our hands
to heaven and cry, "Poor deformed and over-
burdened creature, fettered a hundredfold, to whom
every hour brings or may bring something un-
pleasant, in whose frame twitches every event that
occurs in scores of countries, how can you make us
believe that you feel at ease in your position? If
you appear anywhere in public, we know that it
is a sort of running the gauntlet amid countless
glances that have for you only cold hate or im-
portunity or silent scorn. You may earn more
easily than others, but it is only a superfluous
earning, which brings little joy, and the guarding
of what you have earned is now, at any rate, a more
troublesome business than any toilsome process of
earning. You are continually suffering, because you
are continually losing. What avails it you that they
are always injecting you with fresh artificial blood?
That does not relieve the pain of those cupping-
glasses that are fixed, for ever fixed, on your neck ! —
But, to be quite fair to you, it is difficult or perhaps
impossible for you not to be rich. You must guard,
you must earn more; the inherited bent of your
## p. 299 (#343) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 299
character is the yoke fastened upon you. But do
not on that account deceive us—be honestly and
visibly ashamed of the yoke you wear, as in your
soul you are weary and unwilling to wear it. This
shame is no disgrace. "
210.
Extravagant Presumptions. —There are men
so pre'sumptuous that they can only praise a great-
ness which they publicly admire by representing it
as steps and bridges that lead to themselves.
211.
On the Soil of Insult. —He who wishes to
deprive men of a conception is generally not
satisfied with refuting it and drawing out of it the
illogical worm that resides within. Rather, when
the worm has been killed, does he throw the whole
fruit as well into the mire, in order to make it
ignoble in men's sight and to inspire disgust. Thus
he thinks that he has found a means of making the
usual "third-day resurrection" of conceptions an
impossibility. —He is wrong, for on the very soil of
insult, in the midst of the filth, the kernel of the
conception soon produces new seeds. —The right
thing then, is not to scorn and bespatter what one
wishes finally to remove, but to lay it tenderly on
ice again and again, having regard to the fact that
conceptions are very tenacious of life. Here we
must act according to the maxim: "One refutation
is no refutation. "
## p. 300 (#344) ############################################
300 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
212.
The Lot OF Morality. —Since spiritual bond-
age is being relaxed, morality (the inherited, tra-
ditional, instinctive mode of action in accordance
with moral sentiments) is surely also on the decline.
This, however, is not the case with the individual
virtues, moderation, justice, repose; for the greatest
freedom of the conscious intellect leads at some
time, even unconsciously, back to these virtues, and
then enjoins their practice as expedient.
213.
The Fanatic of Distrust and his Surety.
—The Elder: You wish to make the tremendous
venture and instruct mankind in the great things?
What is your surety?
Pyrrho: It is this: I intend to warn men
against myself; I intend to confess all the defects of
my character quite openly, and reveal to the world
my hasty conclusions, my contradictions, and my
foolish blunders. "Do not listen to me," I will say
to them, "until I have become equal to the meanest
among you, nay am even less than he. Struggle
against truth as long as you can, from your disgust
with her advocate. I shall be your seducer and
betrayer if you find in me the slightest glimmering
of respectability and dignity. "
The Elder: You promise too much; you cannot
bear this burden.
Pyrrho: Then I will tell men even that, and say
that I am too weak, and cannot keep my promise.
The greater my unworthiness, the more will they
## p. 301 (#345) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 301
mistrust the truth, when it passes through my
lips.
The Elder: You propose to teach distrust of
truth?
Pyrrho: Yes; distrust as it never was yet on
earth, distrust of anything and everything. This
is the only road to truth. The right eye must not
trust the left eye, and for some time light must be
called darkness: this is the path that you must
tread. Do not imagine that it will lead you to
fruit trees and fair pastures. You will find on this
road little hard grains — these are truths. For
years and years you will have to swallow handfuls
of lies, so as not to die of hunger, although you
know that they are lies. But those grains will be
sown and planted, and perhaps, perhaps some day
will come the harvest. No one may promise that
day, unless he be a fanatic.
The Elder: Friend, friend! Your words too are
those of a fanatic!
Pyrrho: You are right! I will be distrustful of
all words.
The Elder: Then you will have to be silent.
Pyrrho: I shall tell men that I have to be silent,
and that they are to mistrust my silence.
The Elder: So you draw back from your under-
taking?
Pyrrho: On the contrary—you have shown me
the door through which I must pass.
The Elder: I don't know whether we yet com-
pletely understand each other?
Pyrrho: Probably not.
The Elder: If only you understand yourself!
## p. 302 (#346) ############################################
302 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAX.
(Pyrrho turns round and laughs. )
The Elder: Ah, friend! Silence and laughter—
is that now your whole philosophy?
Pyrrho: There might be a worse.
214.
European Books. —In reading Montaigne, La
Rochefoucauld, La Bruyere, Fontenelle (especially
the Dialogues des Moris), Vauvenargues, and Cham-
fort we are nearer to antiquity than in any group
of six authors of other nations. Through these
six the spirit of the last centuries before Christ
has once more come into being, and they collec-
tively form an important link in the great and
still continuous chain of the Renaissance. Their
books are raised above all changes of national
taste and philosophical nuances from which as a
rule every book takes and must take its hue in
order to become famous. They contain more real
ideas than all the books of German philosophers
put together: ideas of the sort that breed ideas
I am at a loss how to define to the end: enough to
say that they appear to me writers who wrote
neither for children nor for visionaries, neither for
virgins nor for Christians, neither for Germans nor
for I am again at a loss how to finish my list
.
To praise them in plain terms, I may say that
had they been written in Greek, they would have
been understood by Greeks. How much, on the
other hand, would even a Plato have understood
of the writings of our best German thinkers—Goethe
and Schopenhauer, for instance—to say nothing
of the repugnance that he would have felt to
## p. 303 (#347) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 303
their style, particularly to its obscure, exaggerated,
and occasionally dry-as-dust elements? And these
are defects from which these two among German
thinkers suffer least and yet far too much (Goethe
as thinker was fonder than he should have been
of embracing the cloud, and Schopenhauer almost
constantly wanders, not with impunity, among
symbols of objects rather than among the objects
themselves). — On the other hand, what clearness
and graceful precision there is in these Frenchmen!
The Greeks, whose ears were most refined, could
not but have approved of this art, and one quality
they would even have admired and reverenced—
the French verbal wit: they were extremely fond
of this quality, without being particularly strong
in it themselves.
215.
Fashion and Modernity. — Wherever ignor-
ance, uncleanness, and superstition are still rife,
where communication is backward, agriculture poor,
and the priesthood powerful, national costumes are
still worn. Fashion, on the other hand, rules where
the opposite conditions prevail. Fashion is accor-
dingly to be found next to the virtues in modern
Europe. Are we to call it their seamy side? —
Masculine dress that is fashionable and no longer
national proclaims of its wearer: firstly, that he
does not wish to appear as an individual or as
member of a class or race; that he has made an
intentional suppression of these kinds of vanity a
law unto himself: secondly, that he is a worker,
and has little time for dressing and self-adornment,
## p. 304 (#348) ############################################
304 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
and moreover regards anything expensive or lux-
urious in material and cut as out of harmony with
his work: lastly, that by his clothes he indic-
ates the more learned and intellectual callings as
those to which he stands or would like to stand
nearest as a European—whereas such national
costumes as still exist would exhibit the occupa-
tions of brigand, shepherd, and soldier as the most
desirable and distinguished. Within this general
character of masculine fashion exist the slight
fluctuations demanded by the vanity of young
men, the dandies and dawdlers of our great
cities — in other words, Europeans who have
not yet reached maturity. —European women are
as yet far less mature, and for this reason the
fluctuations with them are much greater. They
also will not have the national costume, and hate
to be recognised by their dress as German, French,
or Russian. They are, however, very desirous of
creating an impression as individuals. Then, too,
their dress must leave no one in doubt that they
belong to one of the more reputable classes of
society (to "good " or " high" or "great" society),
and on this score their pretensions are all the
greater if they belong scarcely or not at all to that
class. Above all, the young woman does not want
to wear what an older woman wears, because she
thinks she loses her market value if she is suspected
of being somewhat advanced in years. The older
woman, on the other hand, would like to deceive
the world as long as possible by a youthful garb.
From this competition must continually arise
temporary fashions, in which the youthful element
## p. 305 (#349) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 305
is unmistakably and inimitably apparent. But after
the inventive genius of the young female artists
has run riot for some time in such indiscreet reve-
lations of youth (or rather, after the inventive
genius of older, courtly civilisations and of still
existing peoples—in fact, of the whole world of
dress—has been pressed into the service, and, say,
the Spaniards, Turks, and ancient Greeks have been
yoked together for the glorification of fair flesh),
then they at last discover, time and again, that
they have not been good judges of their own in-
terest; that if they wish to have power over men,
the game of hide-and-seek with the beautiful body
is more likely to win than naked or half-naked
honesty. And then the wheel of taste and vanity
turns once more in an opposite direction. The
rather older young women find that their kingdom
has come, and the competition of the dear, absurd
creatures rages again from the beginning. —But the
more women advance mentally, and no longer
among themselves concede the pre-eminence to an
unripe age, the smaller their fluctuations of costume
grow and the less elaborate their adornment. A
just verdict in this respect must not be based on
ancient models—in other words, not on the standard
of the dress of women who dwell on the shores of
the Mediterranean—but must have an eye to the
climatic conditions of the central and northern
regions, where the intellectual and creative spirit
of Europe now finds its most natural home. —
Generally speaking, therefore, it is not change that
will be the characteristic mark of fashion and
modernity, for change is retrograde, and betokens
vol. 11. U
## p. 305 (#350) ############################################
304
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
and moreover regards anything expensive or lux-
urious in material and cut as out of harmony with
his work: lastly, that by his clothes he indic-
ates the more learned and intellectual callings as
those to which he stands or would like to stand
nearest as a European - whereas such national
costumes as still exist would exhibit the occupa-
tions of brigand, shepherd, and soldier as the most
desirable and distinguished. Within this general
character of masculine fashion exist the slight
fluctuations demanded by the vanity of young
men, the dandies and dawdlers of our great
cities — in other words, Europeans who have
not yet reached maturity. - European women are
as yet far less mature, and for this reason the
fluctuations with them are much greater. They
also will not have the national costume, and hate
to be recognised by their dress as German, French,
or Russian. They are, however, very desirous of
creating an impression as individuals. Then, too,
their dress must leave no one in doubt that they
belong to one of the more reputable classes of
society (to “good” or “high” or “great” society),
and on this score their pretensions are all the
greater if they belong scarcely or not at all to that
class. Above all, the young woman does not want
to wear what an older woman wears, because she
thinks she loses her market value if she is suspected
of being somewhat advanced in years. The older
woman, on the other hand, would like to deceive
the world as long as possible by a youthful garb.
From this competition must continually arise
temporary fashions, in which the youthful element
## p. 305 (#351) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. - 305
is unmistakably and inimitably apparent. But after
the inventive genius of the young female artists
has run riot for some time in such indiscreet reve-
lations of youth (or rather, after the inventive
genius of older, courtly civilisations and of still
existing peoples—in fact, of the whole world of
dress has been pressed into the service, and, say,
the Spaniards, Turks, and ancient Greeks have been
yoked together for the glorification of fair flesh),
then they at last discover, time and again, that
they have not been good judges of their own in-
terest; that if they wish to have power over men,
the game of hide-and-seek with the beautiful body
is more likely to win than naked or half-naked
honesty. And then the wheel of taste and vanity
turns once more in an opposite direction. The
rather older young women find that their kingdom
has come, and the competition of the dear, absurd
creatures rages again from the beginning. –But the
more women advance mentally, and no longer
among themselves concede the pre-eminence to an
unripe age, the smaller their fluctuations of costume
grow and the less elaborate their adornment. A
just verdict in this respect must not be based on
ancient models—in other words, not on the standard
of the dress of women who dwell on the shores of
the Mediterranean—but must have an eye to the
climatic conditions of the central and northern
regions, where the intellectual and creative spirit
of Europe now finds its most natural home. -
Generally speaking, therefore, it is not change that
will be the characteristic mark of fashion and
modernity, for change is retrograde, and betokens
VOL. II.
## p. 305 (#352) ############################################
304
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
and moreover regards anything expensive or lux-
urious in material and cut as out of harmony with
his work: lastly, that by his clothes he indic-
ates the more learned and intellectual callings as
those to which he stands or would like to stand
nearest as a European — whereas such national
costumes as still exist would exhibit the occupa-
tions of brigand, shepherd, and soldier as the most
desirable and distinguished. Within this general
character of masculine fashion exist the slight
fluctuations demanded by the vanity of young
men, the dandies and dawdlers of our great
cities - in other words, Europeans who have
not yet reached maturity. -European women are
as yet far less mature, and for this reason the
fluctuations with them are much greater. They
also will not have the national costume, and hate
to be recognised by their dress as German, French,
or Russian. They are, however, very desirous of
creating an impression as individuals. Then, too,
their dress must leave no one in doubt that they
belong to one of the more reputable classes of
society (to “good” or “high” or “great” society),
and on this score their pretensions are all the
greater if they belong scarcely or not at all to that
class. Above all, the young woman does not want
to wear what an older woman wears, because she
thinks she loses her market value if she is suspected
of being somewhat advanced in years. The older
woman, on the other hand, would like to deceive
the world as long as possible by a youthful garb.
From this competition must continually arise
temporary fashions, in which the youthful element
## p. 305 (#353) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. - 305
is unmistakably and inimitably apparent. But after
the inventive genius of the young female artists
has run riot for some time in such indiscreet reve-
lations of youth (or rather, after the inventive
genius of older, courtly civilisations and of still
existing peoples-in fact, of the whole world of
dress—has been pressed into the service, and, say,
the Spaniards, Turks, and ancient Greeks have been
yoked together for the glorification of fair flesh),
then they at last discover, time and again, that
they have not been good judges of their own in-
terest; that if they wish to have power over men,
the game of hide-and-seek with the beautiful body
is more likely to win than naked or half-naked
honesty. And then the wheel of taste and vanity
turns once more in an opposite direction. The
rather older young women find that their kingdom
has come, and the competition of the dear, absurd
creatures rages again from the beginning. –But the
more women advance mentally, and no longer
among themselves concede the pre-eminence to an
unripe age, the smaller their Auctuations of costume
grow and the less elaborate their adornment. A
just verdict in this respect must not be based on
ancient models—in other words, not on the standard
of the dress of women who dwell on the shores of
the Mediterranean—but must have an eye to the
climatic conditions of the central and northern
regions, where the intellectual and creative spirit
of Europe now finds its most natural home. -
Generally speaking, therefore, it is not change that
will be the characteristic mark of fashion and
modernity, for change is retrograde, and betokens
VOL. II.
U
## p. 306 (#354) ############################################
306 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
the still unripened men and women of Europe; but
rather the repudiation of national, social, and in-
dividual vanity. Accordingly, it is commendable,
because involving a saving of time and strength,
if certain cities and districts of Europe think and
invent for all the rest in the matter of dress, in
view of the fact that a sense of form does not
seem to have been bestowed upon all. Nor is
it really an excessive ambition, so long as these
fluctuations still exist, for Paris, for example, to
claim to be the sole inventor and innovator in this
sphere. If a German, from hatred of these claims
on the part of a French city, wishes to dress differ-
ently,—as, for example, in the Diirer style,—let
him reflect that he then has a costume which
the Germans of olden times wore, but which the
Germans have not in the slightest degree invented.
For there has never been a style of dress that
characterised the German as a German. Moreover,
let him observe how he looks in his costume, and
whether his altogether modern face, with all its hues
and wrinkles, does not raise a protest against a
Diirer fashion of dress. —Here, where the concepts
"modern " and " European " are almost identical, we
understand by " Europe" a far wider region than
is embraced by the Europe of geography, the little
peninsula of Asia. In particular, we must include
America, in so far as America is the daughter of
our civilisation. On the other hand, not all Europe
falls under the heading of cultured "Europe," but
only those nations and divisions of nations which
have their common past in Greece, Rome, Judaism,
and Christianity.
## p. 307 (#355) ############################################
the wanderer and his shadow. 307
216.
"GERMAN Virtue. "—There is no denying that
from the end of the eighteenth century a current
of moral awakening flowed through Europe. Then
only Virtue found again the power of speech. She
learnt to discover the unrestrained gestures of ex-
altation and emotion, she was no longer ashamed of
herself, and she created philosophies and poems for
her own glorification. If we look for the sources of
this current, we come upon Rousseau,butthe mythical
Rousseau, the phantom formed from the impression
left by his writings (one might almost say again, his
mythically interpreted writings) and by the indica-
tions that he provided himself. He and his public
constantly worked at the fashioning of this ideal
figure. The other origin lies in the resurrection of
the Stoical side of Rome's greatness, whereby the
French so nobly carried on the task of the Renais-
sance. With striking success they proceeded from
the reproduction of antique forms tothe reproduction
of antique characters. Thus they may always claim
a title to the highest honours, as the nation which has
hitherto given the modern world its best books and
its best men. How this twofold archetype, the
mythical Rousseau and the resurrected spirit of
Rome, affected France's weaker neighbours, is par-
ticularly noticeable in Germany, which, in conse-
quence of her novel and quite unwonted impulse
to seriousness and loftiness in will and self-control,
finally came to feel astonishment at her own new-
found virtue, and launched into the world the con-
cept "German virtue," as if this were the most
## p. 308 (#356) ############################################
308 HUMAH, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
original and hereditary of her possessions. The first
great men who transfused into their own blood that
French impulse towards greatness and consciousness
of the moral will were more honest, and more grate-
ful. Whence comes the moralism of Kant? He is
continually reminding us: from Rousseau and the
revival of Stoic Rome. The moralism of Schiller
has the same source and the same glorification of
the source. The moralism of Beethoven in notes is
a continual song in praise of Rousseau, the antique
French, and Schiller. "Young Germany" was the
first to forget its gratitude, because in the meantime
people had listened to the preachers of hatred of
the French. The "young German " came to the fore
with more consciousness than is generally allowed
to youths. When he investigated his paternity,
he might well think of the proximity of Schiller,
Schleiermacher, and Fichte. But he should have
looked for his grandfathers in Paris and Geneva,
and it was very short-sighted of him to believe what
he believed: that virtue was not more than thirty
years old. People became used to demanding that
the word "German" should connote "virtue," and
this process has not been wholly forgotten to
this day. —Be it observed further that this moral
awakening, as may almost be guessed, has resulted
only in drawbacks and obstacles to the recognition
of moral phenomena. What is the entire German
philosophy, starting from Kant, with all its French,
English, and Italian offshoots and by-products? A
semi-theological attack upon Helvetius, a rejection
of the slowly and laboriously acquired views and
signposts of the right road, which in the end he
## p. 309 (#357) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 309
collected and expressed so well. To this day Hel-
vetius is the best-abused of all good moralists and
good men in Germany.
217.
Classic and Romantic. —Both classically and
romantically minded spirits—two species that al-
ways exist—cherish a vision of the future; but the
former derive their vision from the strength of their
time, the latter from its weakness.
218.
The Machine as Teacher. —Machinery teaches
in itself the dovetailed working of masses of men,
in activities where each has but one thing to do. It
is the model of party organisations and of warfare.
On the other hand, it does not teach individual self-
glorification, for it makes of the many a machine,
and of each individual a tool for one purpose. Its
most general effect is to teach the advantage of
centralisation.
219.
Unable to Settle. — One likes to live in a
small town. But from time to time just this small
town drives us out into bare and lonely Nature, es-
pecially when we think we know it too well. Finally,
in order to refresh ourselves from Nature, we go to
the big town. A few draughts from this cup and we
see its dregs, and the circle begins afresh, with the
small town as starting-point. —So the moderns live;
## p. 310 (#358) ############################################
3IO HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAX.
/
f
they are in all things rather too thorough to be able
to settle like the men of other days.
220.
Reaction against the Civilisation of
MACHINERY. —The machine, itself a product of the
highest mental powers, sets in motion hardly any
but the lower, unthinking forces of the men who
serve it True, it unfetters a vast quantity of force
which would otherwise lie dormant . But it does not
communicate the impulse to climb higher, to im-
prove, to become artistic. It creates activity and
monotony, but this in the long-run produces a
counter-effect, a despairing ennui of the soul, which
through machinery has learnt to hanker after the
variety of leisure.
221.
The Danger of Enlightenment. —All the
half-insane, theatrical, bestially cruel, licentious, and
especially sentimental and self-intoxicating ele-
ments which go to form the true revolutionary sub-
stance, and became flesh and spirit, before the
revolution, in Rousseau—all this composite being,
with factitious enthusiasm, finally set even "enlighten-
ment" upon its fanatical head, which thereby began
itself to shine as in an illuminating halo. Yet, en-
lightenment is essentially foreign to that phenome-
non, and, if left to itself, would have pierced silently
through the clouds like a shaft of light, long content
to transfigure individuals alone, and thus only slowly
transfiguring national customs and institutions as
well. But now, bound hand and foot to a violent and
## p. 311 (#359) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 311
abrupt monster, enlightenment itself became violent
and abrupt. Its danger has therefore become almost
greater than its useful quality of liberation and il-
lumination, which it introduced into the great re-
volutionary movement. Whoever grasps this will
also know from what confusion it has to be extri-
cated, from what impurities to be cleansed, in order
that it may then by itself continue the work of
enlightenment and also nip the revolution in the bud
and nullify its effects.
222.
Passion in the Middle Ages. —The Middle
Ages are the period of great passions. Neither an-
tiquity nor our period possesses this widening of the
soul. Never was the capacity of the soul greater or
measured by larger standards. The physical, pri-
meval sensuality of the barbarian races and the over-
soulful, over-vigilant, over-brilliant eyes of Christian
mystics, the most childish and youthful and the
most over-ripe and world-weary, the savageness of
the beast of prey and the effeminacy and excessive
refinement of the late antique spirit—all these ele-
ments were then not seldom united in one and the
same person. Thus, if a man was seized by a
passion, the rapidity of the torrent must have been
greater, the whirl more confused, the fall deeper
than ever before. —We modern men may be content
to feel that we have suffered a loss here.
223.
Robbing and Saving.
or periods may suffer in this testing process, they
have each become wise through this injury, and
from them the tide of wisdom slowly pours over
the principles of whole races and whole epochs.
Ants too go astray and make blunders. Through
the folly of its remedies, mankind may well go to
rack and ruin before the proper time. There is no
sure guiding instinct for the former or the latter.
Rather must we boldly face the great task of pre-
paring the earth for a plant of the most ample and
joyous fruitfulness—a task set by reason to reason!
190.
The Praise of Disinterestedness and its
Origin. — Between two neighbouring chieftains
there was a long-standing quarrel: they laid waste
each other's territories, stole cattle, and burnt down
houses, with an indecisive result on the whole, be-
cause their power was fairly equal. A third, who
from the distant situation of his property was able
to keep aloof from these feuds, yet had reason to
dread the day when one of the two neighbours
should gain a decisive preponderance, at last inter-
vened between the combatants with ceremonial
goodwill. Secretly he lent a heavy weight to
his peace proposal by giving either to understand
that he would henceforth join forces with the other
against the one who strove to break the peace.
## p. 291 (#333) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 2QI
They met in his presence, they hesitatingly placed
into his hand the hands that had hitherto been the
tools and only too often the causes of hatred—and
then they really and seriously tried to keep the
peace. Either saw with astonishment how suddenly
his prosperity and his comfort increased; how he
now had as neighbour a dealer ready to buy and
sell instead of a treacherous or openly scornful
evil-doer; how even, in unforeseen troubles, they
could reciprocally save each other from distress,
instead of, as before, making capital out of this dis-
tress of his neighbour and enhancing it to the highest
degree. It even seemed as if the human type had
improved in both countries, for the eyes had become
brighter, the forehead had lost its wrinkles; all now
felt confidence in the future—and nothing is more
advantageous for the souls and bodies of men than
this confidence. They saw each other every year
on the anniversary of the alliance, the chieftains as
well as their retinue, and indeed before the eyes of
the mediator, whose mode of action they admired
and revered more and more, the greater the profit
that they owed to him became. Then his mode of
action was called disinterested. They had looked
far too fixedly at the profit they had reaped them-
selves hitherto to see anything more of their neigh-
bour's method of dealing than that his condition in
consequence of this had not altered so much as their
own ; he had rather remained the same: and thus it
appeared that the former had not had his profit in
view. For the first time people said to themsel-
ves that disinterestedness was a virtue. It is true
that in minor private matters similar circumstances
## p. 292 (#334) ############################################
2«)2 HUMAN', ALL-TOO-OTTMAX.
had arisen, but men only had eyes for this virtue
when it was depicted on the walls in a large script
that was legible to the whole community. Moral
qualities are not recognised as virtues, endowed
with names, held in esteem, and recommended as
worthy of acquisition until the moment when they
have visibly decided the happiness and destiny of
whole societies. For then the loftiness of senti-
ment and the excitation of the inner creative forces
is in many so great, that offerings are brought to
this quality, offerings from the best of what each
possesses. At its feet the serious man lays his
seriousness, the dignified man his dignity, women
their gentleness, the young all the wealth of hope
and futurity that in them lies; the poet lends it
words and names, sets it marching in the procession
of similar beings, gives it a pedigree, and finally, as
is the way of artists, adores the picture of his fancy
as a new godhead—he even teaches others to adore.
Thus in the end, with the co-operation of universal
love and gratitude, a virtue becomes, like a statue,
a repository of all that is good and honourable, a
sort of temple and divine personage combined. It
appears thenceforward as an individual virtue, as
an absolute entity, which it was not before, and
exercises the power and privileges of a sanctified
super-humanity. —In the later days of Greece the
cities were full of such deified human abstractions
(if one may so call them). The nation, in its own
fashion, had set up a Platonic " Heaven of Ideas"
on earth, and I do not think that its inhabitants
were felt to be less alive than any of the old
Homeric divinities.
## p. 293 (#335) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 293
191.
Days of Darkness. —" Days of Darkness" is
the name given in Norway to the period when the
sun remains below the horizon the whole day long.
The temperature then falls slowly but continually. —
A fine simile for all thinkers for whom the sun of
the human future is temporarily eclipsed.
192.
The Philosophy of Luxury. —A garden, figs,
a little cheese, and three or four good friends—that
was the luxury of Epicurus.
193-
The Epochs of Life. —The real epochs of life
are those brief periods of cessation midway between
the rise and decline of a dominating idea or emotion.
Here once again there is satisfaction: all the rest is
hunger and thirst—or satiety.
194.
DREAMS. —Our dreams, if for once in a way they
succeed and are complete—generally a dream is a
bungled piece of work—are symbolic concatenations
of scenes and images in place of a narrative poeti-
cal language. They paraphrase our experiences or
expectations or relations with poetic boldness and
definiteness, so that in the morning we are always
astonished at ourselves when we remember the
nature of our dream. In dreams we use up too
much artistry—and hence are often too poor in
artistry in the daytime.
## p. 294 (#336) ############################################
294 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
195-
Nature and Science. — As in nature, so in
science the worse and less fertile soils are first
cultivated—because the means that science in its
early stages has at command are fairly sufficient for
this purpose. The working of the most fertile soils
requires an enormous, carefully developed, perse-
vering method, tangible individual results, and an
organised body of well-trained workers. All these
are found together only at a late stage. —Impa-
tience and ambition often grasp too early at these
most fertile soils, but the results are then from the
first null and void. In nature such losses would
usually be avenged by the starvation of the settlers.
196.
The Simple Life. —A simple mode of life is
nowadays difficult, requiring as it does farmore re-
flection and gift for invention than even very clever
people possess. The most honourable will perhaps
still say, "I have not the time for such lengthy
reflection. The simple life is for me too lofty a goal:
I will wait till those wiser than I have discovered
it. "
197.
Peaks andNeedle-Points. —The poor fertility,
the frequent celibacy, and in general the sexual
coldness of the highest and most cultivated spirits,
as that of the classes to which they belong, is
essential in human economy. Intelligence recog-
nises and makes use of the fact that at an acme of
## p. 295 (#337) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 295
intellectual development the danger of a neurotic
offspring is very great. Such men are the peaks of
mankind — they ought no longer to run out into
needle-points.
198.
Natura nonfacitsaltum. —However strongly
man may develop upwards and seem to leap from
one contradiction to another, a close observation
will reveal the dovetails where the new building
grows out of the old. This is the biographer's task:
he must reflect upon his subject on the principle
that nature takes no jumps.
199.
Clean, but He who clothes himself with
rags washed clean dresses cleanly, to be sure, but is
still ragged.
200.
The Solitary Speaks. —In compensation for
much disgust, disheartenment, boredom—such as
a lonely life without friends, books, duties, and
passions must involve—we enjoy those short spans
of deep communion with ourselves and with Nature.
He who fortifies himselfcompletely against boredom
fortifies himself against himself too. He will never
drink the most powerful elixir from his own inner-
most spring.
201.
False Renown. —I hate those so-called natural
beauties which really have significance only through
science, especially geographical science, but are in-
## p. 296 (#338) ############################################
296 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
significant in an aesthetic sense: for example, the
view of Mont Blanc from Geneva. This is an in-
significant thing without the auxiliary mental joy of
science: the nearer mountains are all more beautiful
and fuller of expression, but "not nearly so high,"
adds that absurd depreciatory science. The eye
here contradicts science: how can it truly rejoice in
the contradiction?
202.
Those that Travel for Pleasure. — Like
animals, stupid and perspiring, they climb moun-
tains: people forgot to tell them that there were
fine views on the way.
203.
Too Much and Too Little. —Men nowadays
live too much and think too little. They have
hunger and dyspepsia together, and become thinner
and thinner, however much they eat. He who now
says " Nothing has happened to me" is a blockhead.
204.
End and Goal. —Not every end is the goal.
The end of a melody is not its goal, and yet if
a melody has not reached its end, it has also not
reached its goal. A parable.
205.
Neutrality of Nature on a Grand Scale.
—The neutrality of Nature on a grand scale (in
## p. 297 (#339) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 297
mountain, sea, forest, and desert) is pleasing, but
only for a brief space. Afterwards we become im-
patient. "Have they all nothing to say to us?
Do we not exist so far as they are concerned? "
There arises a feeling that a lese-majesti is com-
mitted against humanity.
206.
Forgetting our Purpose. —In a journey we
commonly forget its goal. Almost every vocation
is chosen and entered upon as means to an end, but
is continued as the ultimate end. Forgetting our
purpose is the most frequent form of folly.
207.
Solar Orbit of an Idea. —When an idea is
just rising on the horizon, the soul's temperature is
usually very low. Gradually the idea develops in
warmth, and is hottest (that is to say, exerts its
greatest influence) when belief in the idea is already
on the wane.
208.
How to have every Man against You. —
If some one now dared to say, "He that is not
for me is against me," he would at once have all
against him. —This sentiment does credit to our era.
209.
Being Ashamed of Wealth. —Our age endures
only a single species of rich men—those who are
J
## p. 297 (#340) ############################################
296
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
significant in an æsthetic sense : for example, the
view of Mont Blanc from Geneva. This is an in-
significant thing without the auxiliary mental joy of
science: the nearer mountains are all more beautiful
and fuller of expression, but “not nearly so high,"
adds that absurd depreciatory science. The eye
here contradicts science: how can it truly rejoice in
the contradiction ?
202.
THOSE THAT TRAVEL FOR PLEASURE. — Like
animals, stupid and perspiring, they climb moun-
tains : people forgot to tell them that there were
fine views on the way.
203.
Too MUCH AND Too LITTLE. —Men nowadays
live too much and think too little. They have
hunger and dyspepsia together, and become thinner
and thinner, however much they eat. He who now
says “ Nothing has happened to me" is a blockhead.
204.
END AND GOAL. --Not every end is the goal.
The end of a melody is not its goal, and yet if
a melody has not reached its end, it has also not
reached its goal. A parable.
205.
NEUTRALITY OF NATURE ON A GRAND SCALE.
-The neutrality of Nature on a grand scale (in
## p. 297 (#341) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW.
297
mountain, sea, forest, and desert) is pleasing, but
only for a brief space. Afterwards we become im-
patient. “Have they all nothing to say to us?
Do we not exist so far as they are concerned ? ”
There arises a feeling that a lèse-majesté is com-
mitted against humanity.
206.
FORGETTING OUR PURPOSE. —In a journey we
commonly forget its goal. Almost every vocation
is chosen and entered upon as means to an end, but
is continued as the ultimate end. Forgetting our
purpose is the most frequent form of folly.
207.
SOLAR ORBIT OF AN IDEA. —When an idea is
just rising on the horizon, the soul's temperature is
usually very low. Gradually the idea develops in
warmth, and is hottest (that is to say, exerts its
greatest influence) when belief in the idea is already
on the wane.
208.
HOW TO HAVE EVERY MAN AGAINST YOU. -
If some one now dared to say, “He that is not
for me is against me," he would at once have all
against him. -This sentiment does credit to our era.
209.
BEING ASHAMED OF WEALTH. –Our age endures
only a single species of rich men—those who are
## p. 298 (#342) ############################################
298 HCJCAX, AIA-TOO-HTMJLS.
ashamed of their wealth. If we hear it said of
any one that he is very rich, we at once feel a similar
sentiment to that experienced at the sight of a re-
pulsively swollen invalid, one suffering from diabetes
or dropsy. We must with an effort remember our
humanity, in order to go about with this rich man
in such a way that he does not notice our feeling of
disgust . But as soon as he prides himself at all on
his wealth, our feelings are mingled with an almost
compassionate surprise at such a high degree of
human unreason. We would fain raise our hands
to heaven and cry, "Poor deformed and over-
burdened creature, fettered a hundredfold, to whom
every hour brings or may bring something un-
pleasant, in whose frame twitches every event that
occurs in scores of countries, how can you make us
believe that you feel at ease in your position? If
you appear anywhere in public, we know that it
is a sort of running the gauntlet amid countless
glances that have for you only cold hate or im-
portunity or silent scorn. You may earn more
easily than others, but it is only a superfluous
earning, which brings little joy, and the guarding
of what you have earned is now, at any rate, a more
troublesome business than any toilsome process of
earning. You are continually suffering, because you
are continually losing. What avails it you that they
are always injecting you with fresh artificial blood?
That does not relieve the pain of those cupping-
glasses that are fixed, for ever fixed, on your neck ! —
But, to be quite fair to you, it is difficult or perhaps
impossible for you not to be rich. You must guard,
you must earn more; the inherited bent of your
## p. 299 (#343) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 299
character is the yoke fastened upon you. But do
not on that account deceive us—be honestly and
visibly ashamed of the yoke you wear, as in your
soul you are weary and unwilling to wear it. This
shame is no disgrace. "
210.
Extravagant Presumptions. —There are men
so pre'sumptuous that they can only praise a great-
ness which they publicly admire by representing it
as steps and bridges that lead to themselves.
211.
On the Soil of Insult. —He who wishes to
deprive men of a conception is generally not
satisfied with refuting it and drawing out of it the
illogical worm that resides within. Rather, when
the worm has been killed, does he throw the whole
fruit as well into the mire, in order to make it
ignoble in men's sight and to inspire disgust. Thus
he thinks that he has found a means of making the
usual "third-day resurrection" of conceptions an
impossibility. —He is wrong, for on the very soil of
insult, in the midst of the filth, the kernel of the
conception soon produces new seeds. —The right
thing then, is not to scorn and bespatter what one
wishes finally to remove, but to lay it tenderly on
ice again and again, having regard to the fact that
conceptions are very tenacious of life. Here we
must act according to the maxim: "One refutation
is no refutation. "
## p. 300 (#344) ############################################
300 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
212.
The Lot OF Morality. —Since spiritual bond-
age is being relaxed, morality (the inherited, tra-
ditional, instinctive mode of action in accordance
with moral sentiments) is surely also on the decline.
This, however, is not the case with the individual
virtues, moderation, justice, repose; for the greatest
freedom of the conscious intellect leads at some
time, even unconsciously, back to these virtues, and
then enjoins their practice as expedient.
213.
The Fanatic of Distrust and his Surety.
—The Elder: You wish to make the tremendous
venture and instruct mankind in the great things?
What is your surety?
Pyrrho: It is this: I intend to warn men
against myself; I intend to confess all the defects of
my character quite openly, and reveal to the world
my hasty conclusions, my contradictions, and my
foolish blunders. "Do not listen to me," I will say
to them, "until I have become equal to the meanest
among you, nay am even less than he. Struggle
against truth as long as you can, from your disgust
with her advocate. I shall be your seducer and
betrayer if you find in me the slightest glimmering
of respectability and dignity. "
The Elder: You promise too much; you cannot
bear this burden.
Pyrrho: Then I will tell men even that, and say
that I am too weak, and cannot keep my promise.
The greater my unworthiness, the more will they
## p. 301 (#345) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 301
mistrust the truth, when it passes through my
lips.
The Elder: You propose to teach distrust of
truth?
Pyrrho: Yes; distrust as it never was yet on
earth, distrust of anything and everything. This
is the only road to truth. The right eye must not
trust the left eye, and for some time light must be
called darkness: this is the path that you must
tread. Do not imagine that it will lead you to
fruit trees and fair pastures. You will find on this
road little hard grains — these are truths. For
years and years you will have to swallow handfuls
of lies, so as not to die of hunger, although you
know that they are lies. But those grains will be
sown and planted, and perhaps, perhaps some day
will come the harvest. No one may promise that
day, unless he be a fanatic.
The Elder: Friend, friend! Your words too are
those of a fanatic!
Pyrrho: You are right! I will be distrustful of
all words.
The Elder: Then you will have to be silent.
Pyrrho: I shall tell men that I have to be silent,
and that they are to mistrust my silence.
The Elder: So you draw back from your under-
taking?
Pyrrho: On the contrary—you have shown me
the door through which I must pass.
The Elder: I don't know whether we yet com-
pletely understand each other?
Pyrrho: Probably not.
The Elder: If only you understand yourself!
## p. 302 (#346) ############################################
302 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAX.
(Pyrrho turns round and laughs. )
The Elder: Ah, friend! Silence and laughter—
is that now your whole philosophy?
Pyrrho: There might be a worse.
214.
European Books. —In reading Montaigne, La
Rochefoucauld, La Bruyere, Fontenelle (especially
the Dialogues des Moris), Vauvenargues, and Cham-
fort we are nearer to antiquity than in any group
of six authors of other nations. Through these
six the spirit of the last centuries before Christ
has once more come into being, and they collec-
tively form an important link in the great and
still continuous chain of the Renaissance. Their
books are raised above all changes of national
taste and philosophical nuances from which as a
rule every book takes and must take its hue in
order to become famous. They contain more real
ideas than all the books of German philosophers
put together: ideas of the sort that breed ideas
I am at a loss how to define to the end: enough to
say that they appear to me writers who wrote
neither for children nor for visionaries, neither for
virgins nor for Christians, neither for Germans nor
for I am again at a loss how to finish my list
.
To praise them in plain terms, I may say that
had they been written in Greek, they would have
been understood by Greeks. How much, on the
other hand, would even a Plato have understood
of the writings of our best German thinkers—Goethe
and Schopenhauer, for instance—to say nothing
of the repugnance that he would have felt to
## p. 303 (#347) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 303
their style, particularly to its obscure, exaggerated,
and occasionally dry-as-dust elements? And these
are defects from which these two among German
thinkers suffer least and yet far too much (Goethe
as thinker was fonder than he should have been
of embracing the cloud, and Schopenhauer almost
constantly wanders, not with impunity, among
symbols of objects rather than among the objects
themselves). — On the other hand, what clearness
and graceful precision there is in these Frenchmen!
The Greeks, whose ears were most refined, could
not but have approved of this art, and one quality
they would even have admired and reverenced—
the French verbal wit: they were extremely fond
of this quality, without being particularly strong
in it themselves.
215.
Fashion and Modernity. — Wherever ignor-
ance, uncleanness, and superstition are still rife,
where communication is backward, agriculture poor,
and the priesthood powerful, national costumes are
still worn. Fashion, on the other hand, rules where
the opposite conditions prevail. Fashion is accor-
dingly to be found next to the virtues in modern
Europe. Are we to call it their seamy side? —
Masculine dress that is fashionable and no longer
national proclaims of its wearer: firstly, that he
does not wish to appear as an individual or as
member of a class or race; that he has made an
intentional suppression of these kinds of vanity a
law unto himself: secondly, that he is a worker,
and has little time for dressing and self-adornment,
## p. 304 (#348) ############################################
304 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
and moreover regards anything expensive or lux-
urious in material and cut as out of harmony with
his work: lastly, that by his clothes he indic-
ates the more learned and intellectual callings as
those to which he stands or would like to stand
nearest as a European—whereas such national
costumes as still exist would exhibit the occupa-
tions of brigand, shepherd, and soldier as the most
desirable and distinguished. Within this general
character of masculine fashion exist the slight
fluctuations demanded by the vanity of young
men, the dandies and dawdlers of our great
cities — in other words, Europeans who have
not yet reached maturity. —European women are
as yet far less mature, and for this reason the
fluctuations with them are much greater. They
also will not have the national costume, and hate
to be recognised by their dress as German, French,
or Russian. They are, however, very desirous of
creating an impression as individuals. Then, too,
their dress must leave no one in doubt that they
belong to one of the more reputable classes of
society (to "good " or " high" or "great" society),
and on this score their pretensions are all the
greater if they belong scarcely or not at all to that
class. Above all, the young woman does not want
to wear what an older woman wears, because she
thinks she loses her market value if she is suspected
of being somewhat advanced in years. The older
woman, on the other hand, would like to deceive
the world as long as possible by a youthful garb.
From this competition must continually arise
temporary fashions, in which the youthful element
## p. 305 (#349) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 305
is unmistakably and inimitably apparent. But after
the inventive genius of the young female artists
has run riot for some time in such indiscreet reve-
lations of youth (or rather, after the inventive
genius of older, courtly civilisations and of still
existing peoples—in fact, of the whole world of
dress—has been pressed into the service, and, say,
the Spaniards, Turks, and ancient Greeks have been
yoked together for the glorification of fair flesh),
then they at last discover, time and again, that
they have not been good judges of their own in-
terest; that if they wish to have power over men,
the game of hide-and-seek with the beautiful body
is more likely to win than naked or half-naked
honesty. And then the wheel of taste and vanity
turns once more in an opposite direction. The
rather older young women find that their kingdom
has come, and the competition of the dear, absurd
creatures rages again from the beginning. —But the
more women advance mentally, and no longer
among themselves concede the pre-eminence to an
unripe age, the smaller their fluctuations of costume
grow and the less elaborate their adornment. A
just verdict in this respect must not be based on
ancient models—in other words, not on the standard
of the dress of women who dwell on the shores of
the Mediterranean—but must have an eye to the
climatic conditions of the central and northern
regions, where the intellectual and creative spirit
of Europe now finds its most natural home. —
Generally speaking, therefore, it is not change that
will be the characteristic mark of fashion and
modernity, for change is retrograde, and betokens
vol. 11. U
## p. 305 (#350) ############################################
304
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
and moreover regards anything expensive or lux-
urious in material and cut as out of harmony with
his work: lastly, that by his clothes he indic-
ates the more learned and intellectual callings as
those to which he stands or would like to stand
nearest as a European - whereas such national
costumes as still exist would exhibit the occupa-
tions of brigand, shepherd, and soldier as the most
desirable and distinguished. Within this general
character of masculine fashion exist the slight
fluctuations demanded by the vanity of young
men, the dandies and dawdlers of our great
cities — in other words, Europeans who have
not yet reached maturity. - European women are
as yet far less mature, and for this reason the
fluctuations with them are much greater. They
also will not have the national costume, and hate
to be recognised by their dress as German, French,
or Russian. They are, however, very desirous of
creating an impression as individuals. Then, too,
their dress must leave no one in doubt that they
belong to one of the more reputable classes of
society (to “good” or “high” or “great” society),
and on this score their pretensions are all the
greater if they belong scarcely or not at all to that
class. Above all, the young woman does not want
to wear what an older woman wears, because she
thinks she loses her market value if she is suspected
of being somewhat advanced in years. The older
woman, on the other hand, would like to deceive
the world as long as possible by a youthful garb.
From this competition must continually arise
temporary fashions, in which the youthful element
## p. 305 (#351) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. - 305
is unmistakably and inimitably apparent. But after
the inventive genius of the young female artists
has run riot for some time in such indiscreet reve-
lations of youth (or rather, after the inventive
genius of older, courtly civilisations and of still
existing peoples—in fact, of the whole world of
dress has been pressed into the service, and, say,
the Spaniards, Turks, and ancient Greeks have been
yoked together for the glorification of fair flesh),
then they at last discover, time and again, that
they have not been good judges of their own in-
terest; that if they wish to have power over men,
the game of hide-and-seek with the beautiful body
is more likely to win than naked or half-naked
honesty. And then the wheel of taste and vanity
turns once more in an opposite direction. The
rather older young women find that their kingdom
has come, and the competition of the dear, absurd
creatures rages again from the beginning. –But the
more women advance mentally, and no longer
among themselves concede the pre-eminence to an
unripe age, the smaller their fluctuations of costume
grow and the less elaborate their adornment. A
just verdict in this respect must not be based on
ancient models—in other words, not on the standard
of the dress of women who dwell on the shores of
the Mediterranean—but must have an eye to the
climatic conditions of the central and northern
regions, where the intellectual and creative spirit
of Europe now finds its most natural home. -
Generally speaking, therefore, it is not change that
will be the characteristic mark of fashion and
modernity, for change is retrograde, and betokens
VOL. II.
## p. 305 (#352) ############################################
304
HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
and moreover regards anything expensive or lux-
urious in material and cut as out of harmony with
his work: lastly, that by his clothes he indic-
ates the more learned and intellectual callings as
those to which he stands or would like to stand
nearest as a European — whereas such national
costumes as still exist would exhibit the occupa-
tions of brigand, shepherd, and soldier as the most
desirable and distinguished. Within this general
character of masculine fashion exist the slight
fluctuations demanded by the vanity of young
men, the dandies and dawdlers of our great
cities - in other words, Europeans who have
not yet reached maturity. -European women are
as yet far less mature, and for this reason the
fluctuations with them are much greater. They
also will not have the national costume, and hate
to be recognised by their dress as German, French,
or Russian. They are, however, very desirous of
creating an impression as individuals. Then, too,
their dress must leave no one in doubt that they
belong to one of the more reputable classes of
society (to “good” or “high” or “great” society),
and on this score their pretensions are all the
greater if they belong scarcely or not at all to that
class. Above all, the young woman does not want
to wear what an older woman wears, because she
thinks she loses her market value if she is suspected
of being somewhat advanced in years. The older
woman, on the other hand, would like to deceive
the world as long as possible by a youthful garb.
From this competition must continually arise
temporary fashions, in which the youthful element
## p. 305 (#353) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. - 305
is unmistakably and inimitably apparent. But after
the inventive genius of the young female artists
has run riot for some time in such indiscreet reve-
lations of youth (or rather, after the inventive
genius of older, courtly civilisations and of still
existing peoples-in fact, of the whole world of
dress—has been pressed into the service, and, say,
the Spaniards, Turks, and ancient Greeks have been
yoked together for the glorification of fair flesh),
then they at last discover, time and again, that
they have not been good judges of their own in-
terest; that if they wish to have power over men,
the game of hide-and-seek with the beautiful body
is more likely to win than naked or half-naked
honesty. And then the wheel of taste and vanity
turns once more in an opposite direction. The
rather older young women find that their kingdom
has come, and the competition of the dear, absurd
creatures rages again from the beginning. –But the
more women advance mentally, and no longer
among themselves concede the pre-eminence to an
unripe age, the smaller their Auctuations of costume
grow and the less elaborate their adornment. A
just verdict in this respect must not be based on
ancient models—in other words, not on the standard
of the dress of women who dwell on the shores of
the Mediterranean—but must have an eye to the
climatic conditions of the central and northern
regions, where the intellectual and creative spirit
of Europe now finds its most natural home. -
Generally speaking, therefore, it is not change that
will be the characteristic mark of fashion and
modernity, for change is retrograde, and betokens
VOL. II.
U
## p. 306 (#354) ############################################
306 HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
the still unripened men and women of Europe; but
rather the repudiation of national, social, and in-
dividual vanity. Accordingly, it is commendable,
because involving a saving of time and strength,
if certain cities and districts of Europe think and
invent for all the rest in the matter of dress, in
view of the fact that a sense of form does not
seem to have been bestowed upon all. Nor is
it really an excessive ambition, so long as these
fluctuations still exist, for Paris, for example, to
claim to be the sole inventor and innovator in this
sphere. If a German, from hatred of these claims
on the part of a French city, wishes to dress differ-
ently,—as, for example, in the Diirer style,—let
him reflect that he then has a costume which
the Germans of olden times wore, but which the
Germans have not in the slightest degree invented.
For there has never been a style of dress that
characterised the German as a German. Moreover,
let him observe how he looks in his costume, and
whether his altogether modern face, with all its hues
and wrinkles, does not raise a protest against a
Diirer fashion of dress. —Here, where the concepts
"modern " and " European " are almost identical, we
understand by " Europe" a far wider region than
is embraced by the Europe of geography, the little
peninsula of Asia. In particular, we must include
America, in so far as America is the daughter of
our civilisation. On the other hand, not all Europe
falls under the heading of cultured "Europe," but
only those nations and divisions of nations which
have their common past in Greece, Rome, Judaism,
and Christianity.
## p. 307 (#355) ############################################
the wanderer and his shadow. 307
216.
"GERMAN Virtue. "—There is no denying that
from the end of the eighteenth century a current
of moral awakening flowed through Europe. Then
only Virtue found again the power of speech. She
learnt to discover the unrestrained gestures of ex-
altation and emotion, she was no longer ashamed of
herself, and she created philosophies and poems for
her own glorification. If we look for the sources of
this current, we come upon Rousseau,butthe mythical
Rousseau, the phantom formed from the impression
left by his writings (one might almost say again, his
mythically interpreted writings) and by the indica-
tions that he provided himself. He and his public
constantly worked at the fashioning of this ideal
figure. The other origin lies in the resurrection of
the Stoical side of Rome's greatness, whereby the
French so nobly carried on the task of the Renais-
sance. With striking success they proceeded from
the reproduction of antique forms tothe reproduction
of antique characters. Thus they may always claim
a title to the highest honours, as the nation which has
hitherto given the modern world its best books and
its best men. How this twofold archetype, the
mythical Rousseau and the resurrected spirit of
Rome, affected France's weaker neighbours, is par-
ticularly noticeable in Germany, which, in conse-
quence of her novel and quite unwonted impulse
to seriousness and loftiness in will and self-control,
finally came to feel astonishment at her own new-
found virtue, and launched into the world the con-
cept "German virtue," as if this were the most
## p. 308 (#356) ############################################
308 HUMAH, ALL-TOO-HUMAN.
original and hereditary of her possessions. The first
great men who transfused into their own blood that
French impulse towards greatness and consciousness
of the moral will were more honest, and more grate-
ful. Whence comes the moralism of Kant? He is
continually reminding us: from Rousseau and the
revival of Stoic Rome. The moralism of Schiller
has the same source and the same glorification of
the source. The moralism of Beethoven in notes is
a continual song in praise of Rousseau, the antique
French, and Schiller. "Young Germany" was the
first to forget its gratitude, because in the meantime
people had listened to the preachers of hatred of
the French. The "young German " came to the fore
with more consciousness than is generally allowed
to youths. When he investigated his paternity,
he might well think of the proximity of Schiller,
Schleiermacher, and Fichte. But he should have
looked for his grandfathers in Paris and Geneva,
and it was very short-sighted of him to believe what
he believed: that virtue was not more than thirty
years old. People became used to demanding that
the word "German" should connote "virtue," and
this process has not been wholly forgotten to
this day. —Be it observed further that this moral
awakening, as may almost be guessed, has resulted
only in drawbacks and obstacles to the recognition
of moral phenomena. What is the entire German
philosophy, starting from Kant, with all its French,
English, and Italian offshoots and by-products? A
semi-theological attack upon Helvetius, a rejection
of the slowly and laboriously acquired views and
signposts of the right road, which in the end he
## p. 309 (#357) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 309
collected and expressed so well. To this day Hel-
vetius is the best-abused of all good moralists and
good men in Germany.
217.
Classic and Romantic. —Both classically and
romantically minded spirits—two species that al-
ways exist—cherish a vision of the future; but the
former derive their vision from the strength of their
time, the latter from its weakness.
218.
The Machine as Teacher. —Machinery teaches
in itself the dovetailed working of masses of men,
in activities where each has but one thing to do. It
is the model of party organisations and of warfare.
On the other hand, it does not teach individual self-
glorification, for it makes of the many a machine,
and of each individual a tool for one purpose. Its
most general effect is to teach the advantage of
centralisation.
219.
Unable to Settle. — One likes to live in a
small town. But from time to time just this small
town drives us out into bare and lonely Nature, es-
pecially when we think we know it too well. Finally,
in order to refresh ourselves from Nature, we go to
the big town. A few draughts from this cup and we
see its dregs, and the circle begins afresh, with the
small town as starting-point. —So the moderns live;
## p. 310 (#358) ############################################
3IO HUMAN, ALL-TOO-HUMAX.
/
f
they are in all things rather too thorough to be able
to settle like the men of other days.
220.
Reaction against the Civilisation of
MACHINERY. —The machine, itself a product of the
highest mental powers, sets in motion hardly any
but the lower, unthinking forces of the men who
serve it True, it unfetters a vast quantity of force
which would otherwise lie dormant . But it does not
communicate the impulse to climb higher, to im-
prove, to become artistic. It creates activity and
monotony, but this in the long-run produces a
counter-effect, a despairing ennui of the soul, which
through machinery has learnt to hanker after the
variety of leisure.
221.
The Danger of Enlightenment. —All the
half-insane, theatrical, bestially cruel, licentious, and
especially sentimental and self-intoxicating ele-
ments which go to form the true revolutionary sub-
stance, and became flesh and spirit, before the
revolution, in Rousseau—all this composite being,
with factitious enthusiasm, finally set even "enlighten-
ment" upon its fanatical head, which thereby began
itself to shine as in an illuminating halo. Yet, en-
lightenment is essentially foreign to that phenome-
non, and, if left to itself, would have pierced silently
through the clouds like a shaft of light, long content
to transfigure individuals alone, and thus only slowly
transfiguring national customs and institutions as
well. But now, bound hand and foot to a violent and
## p. 311 (#359) ############################################
THE WANDERER AND HIS SHADOW. 311
abrupt monster, enlightenment itself became violent
and abrupt. Its danger has therefore become almost
greater than its useful quality of liberation and il-
lumination, which it introduced into the great re-
volutionary movement. Whoever grasps this will
also know from what confusion it has to be extri-
cated, from what impurities to be cleansed, in order
that it may then by itself continue the work of
enlightenment and also nip the revolution in the bud
and nullify its effects.
222.
Passion in the Middle Ages. —The Middle
Ages are the period of great passions. Neither an-
tiquity nor our period possesses this widening of the
soul. Never was the capacity of the soul greater or
measured by larger standards. The physical, pri-
meval sensuality of the barbarian races and the over-
soulful, over-vigilant, over-brilliant eyes of Christian
mystics, the most childish and youthful and the
most over-ripe and world-weary, the savageness of
the beast of prey and the effeminacy and excessive
refinement of the late antique spirit—all these ele-
ments were then not seldom united in one and the
same person. Thus, if a man was seized by a
passion, the rapidity of the torrent must have been
greater, the whirl more confused, the fall deeper
than ever before. —We modern men may be content
to feel that we have suffered a loss here.
223.
Robbing and Saving.
