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being, as Lichtenberg suggests? —of an inferior
being who did not quite understand his business;
therefore an experiment, an attempt, upon which
work is still proceeding? Strauss himself, then,
would be compelled to admit that our universe is
by no means the theatre of reason, but of error,
and that no conformity to law can contain anything
consoling, since all laws have been promulgated
by an erratic God who even finds pleasure in
blundering. It really is a most amusing spectacle
to watch Strauss as a metaphysical architect,
building castles in the air. But for whose benefit
is this entertainment given? For the smug and
noble "We," that they may not lose conceit with
themselves: they may possibly have taken sudden
fright, in the midst of the inflexible and pitiless
wheel-works of the world-machine, and are tremu-
lously imploring their leader to come to their aid.
That is why Strauss pours forth the "soothing oil,"
that is why he leads forth on a leash a God whose
passion it is to err; it is for the same reason, too,
that he assumes for once the utterly unsuitable r61e
of a metaphysical architect. He does all this,
because the noble souls already referred to are
frightened, and because he is too. And it is here
that we reach the limit of his courage, even in the
presence of his "We. " He does not dare to be
honest, and to tell them, for instance: "I have
liberated you from a helping and pitiful God: the
Cosmos is no more than an inflexible machine;
beware of its wheels, that they do not crush you. "
He dare not do this. Consequently, he must
enlist the help of a witch, and he turns to meta-


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DAVID STRAUSS. 57
physics. To the Philistine, however, even Strauss's
metaphysics is preferable to Christianity's, and the
notion of an erratic God more congenial than that
of one who works miracles. For the Philistine
himself errs, but has never yet performed a miracle.
Hence his hatred of the genius; for the latter is
justly famous for the working of miracles. It is
therefore highly instructive to ascertain why
Strauss, in one passage alone, suddenly takes up
the cudgels for genius and the aristocracy of
intellect in general. Whatever does he do it for?
He does it out of fear—fear of the social democrat.
He refers to Bismarck and Moltke, "whose great-
ness is the less open to controversy as it manifests
itself in the domain of tangible external facts.
No help for it, therefore; even the most stiff-necked
and obdurate of these fellows must condescend to
look up a little, if only to get a sight, be it no
farther than the knees, of those august figures"
(p. 327). Do you, Master Metaphysician, perhaps
intend to instruct the social democrats in the art
of getting kicks? The willingness to bestow them
may be met with everywhere, and you are perfectly
justified in promising to those who happen to be
kicked a sight of those sublime beings as far as the
knee. "Also in the domain of art and science,"
Strauss continues, "there will never be a dearth of
kings whose architectural undertakings will find
employment for a multitude of carters. " Granted;
but what if the carters should begin building? It
does happen at times, Great Master, as you know,
and then the kings must grin and bear it.
As a matter of fact, this union of impudence and


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58 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
weakness, of daring words and cowardly con-
cessions, this cautious deliberation as to which
sentences will or will not impress the Philistine or
smooth him down the right way, this lack of
character and power masquerading as character
and power, this meagre wisdom in the guise of
omniscience,—these are the features in this book
which I detest. If I could conceive of young men
having patience to read it and to value it, I should
sorrowfully renounce all hope for their future.
And is this confession of wretched, hopeless, and
really despicable Philistinism supposed to be the
expression of the thousands constituting the "We"
of whom Strauss speaks, and who are to be the
fathers of the coming generation? Unto him who
would fain help this coming generation to acquire
what the present one does not yet possess, namely,
a genuine German culture, the prospect is a
horrible one. To such a man, the ground seems
strewn with ashes, and all stars are obscured; while
every withered tree and field laid waste seems to
cry to him: Barren! Forsaken! Springtime is no
longer possible here! He must feel as young
Goethe felt when he first peered into the melan-
choly atheistic twilight of the Systeme de la Nature;
to him this book seemed so grey, so Cimmerian
and deadly, that he could only endure its presence
with difficulty, and shuddered at it as one shudders
at a spectre.


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DAVID STRAUSS. 59
VIII.
We ought now to be sufficiently informed con-
cerning the heaven and the courage of our new
believer to be able to turn to the last question:
How does he write his books? and of what order
are his religious documents?
He who can answer this question uprightly and
without prejudice will be confronted by yet another
serious problem, and that is: How this Straussian
pocket-oracle of the German Philistine was able to
pass through six editions? And he will grow more
than ever suspicious when he hears that it was
actually welcomed as a pocket-oracle, not only in
scholastic circles, but even in German universities
as well. Students are said to have greeted it as a
canon for strong intellects, and, from all accounts,
the professors raised no objections to this view;
while here and there people have declared it to be
a religious book for scholars. Strauss himself gave
out that he did not intend his profession of faith
to be merely a reference-book for learned and
cultured people; but here let us abide by the fact
that it was first and foremost a work appealing to
his colleagues, and was ostensibly a mirror in
which they were to see their own way of living
faithfully reflected. For therein lay the feat.
The Master feigned to have presented us with a
new ideal conception of the universe, and now
adulation is being paid him out of every mouth;
because each is in a position to suppose that he too
regards the universe and life in the same way.


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6o THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
Thus Strauss has seen fulfilled in each of his
readers what he only demanded of the future. In
this way, the extraordinary success of his book is
partly explained: "Thus we live and hold on our
way in joy," the scholar cries in his book, and
delights to see others rejoicing over the announce-
ment. If the reader happen to think differently
from the Master in regard to Darwin or to capital
punishment, it is of very little consequence; for he
is too conscious throughout of breathing an atmo-
, sphere that is familiar to him, and of hearing but
the echoes of his own voice and wants. However
painfully this unanimity may strike the true friend
of German culture, it is his duty to be unrelenting
in his explanation of it as a phenomenon, and not
to shrink from making this explanation public.
We all know the peculiar methods adopted in our
own time of cultivating the sciences: we all know
them, because they form a part of our lives. And,
for this very reason, scarcely anybody seems to ask
himself what the result of such a cultivation of the
sciences will mean to culture in general, even
supposing that everywhere the highest abilities and
the most earnest will be available for the promotion
of culture. In the heart of the average scientific
type (quite irrespective of the examples thereof
with which we meet to-day) there lies a pure
paradox: he behaves like the veriest idler of
independent means, to whom life is not a dreadful
and serious business, but a sound piece of property,
settled upon him for all eternity; and it seems to
him justifiable to spend his whole life in answering
questions which, after all is said and done, can


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DAVID STRAUSS. 61
only be of interest to that person who believes in
eternal life as an absolute certainty. The heir of
but a few hours, he sees himself encompassed by
yawning abysses, terrible to behold; and every
step he takes should recall the questions, Where-
fore? Whither? and Whence? to his mind. But
his soul rather warms to his work, and, be this the
counting of a floweret's petals or the breaking of
stones by the roadside, he spends his whole fund
of interest, pleasure, strength, and aspirations upon
it. This paradox—the scientific man—has lately
dashed ahead at such a frantic speed in Germany,
that one would almost think the scientific world
were a factory, in which every minute wasted meant
a fine. To-day the man of science works as
arduously as the fourth or slave caste: his study
has ceased to be an occupation, it is a necessity;
he looks neither to the right nor to the left, but
rushes through all things — even through the
serious matters which life bears in its train—with
that semi-listlessness and repulsive need of rest so
characteristic of the exhausted labourer. This is
also his attitude towards culture. He behaves as if
life to him were not only otium but sine dignitate:
even in his sleep he does not throw off the yoke,
but like an emancipated slave still dreams of his
misery, his forced haste and his floggings. Our
scholars can scarcely be distinguished—and, even
then, not to their advantage—from agricultural
labourers, who in order to increase a small patri-
mony, assiduously strive, day and night, to culti-
vate their fields, drive their ploughs, and urge on
their oxen. Now, Pascal suggests that men only


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62 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
endeavour to work hard at their business and
sciences with the view of escaping those questions
of greatest import which every moment of loneli-
ness or leisure presses upon them—the questions
relating to the wherefore, the whence, and the
whither of life. Curiously enough, our scholars
never think of the most vital question of all—the
wherefore of their work, their haste, and their
painful ecstasies. Surely their object is not the
earning of bread or the acquiring of posts of
honour? No, certainly not. But ye take as much
pains as the famishing and breadless; and, with
that eagerness and lack of discernment which
characterises the starving, ye even snatch the dishes
from the sideboard of science. If, however, as
scientific men, ye proceed with science as the
labourers with the tasks which the exigencies
of life impose upon them, what will become of a
culture which must await the hour of its birth and
its salvation in the very midst of all this agitated
and breathless running to and fro—this sprawling
scientifically?
For it no one has time—and yet for what shall
science have time if not for culture? Answer us
here, then, at least: whence, whither, wherefore all
science, if it do not lead to culture? Belike to
barbarity? And in this direction we already see
the scholar caste ominously advanced, if we are to
believe that such superficial books as this one of
Strauss's meet the demand of their present degree
of culture. For precisely in him do we find that
repulsive need of rest and that incidental semi-
listless attention to, and coming to terms with,


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DAVID STRAUSS. 63
philosophy, culture, and every serious thing on
earth. It will be remembered that, at the meetings
held by scholars, as soon as each individual has had
his say in his own particular department of know-
ledge, signs of fatigue, of a desire for distraction at
any price, of waning memory, and of incoherent
experiences of life, begin to be noticeable. While
listening to Strauss discussing any worldly question,
be it marriage, the war, or capital punishment, we
are startled by his complete lack of anything like
first-hand experience, or of any original thought on
human nature. All his judgments are so redolent
of books, yea even of newspapers. Literary remini-
scences do duty for genuine ideas and views, and
the assumption of a moderate and grandfatherly
tone take the place of wisdom and mature thought.
How perfectly in keeping all this is with the ful-
some spirit animating the holders of the highest
places in German science in large cities! How
thoroughly this spirit must appeal to that other!
for it is precisely in those quarters that culture is
in the saddest plight; it is precisely there that its
fresh growth is made impossible—so boisterous are
the preparations made by science, so sheepishly are
favourite subjects of knowledge allowed to oust
questions of much greater import. What kind of
lantern would be needed here, in order to find men
capable of a complete surrender to genius, and of
an intimate knowledge of its depths—men possessed
of sufficient courage and strength to exorcise the
demons that have forsaken our age? Viewed from
the outside, such quarters certainly do appear to
possess the whole pomp of culture; with their im-


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/
64 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
posing apparatus they resemble great arsenals fitted
with huge guns and other machinery of war; we
see preparations in progress and the most strenuous
activity, as though the heavens themselves were to
be stormed, and truth were to be drawn out of
the deepest of all wells; and yet, in war, the largest
machines are the most unwieldy. Genuine culture
therefore leaves such places as these religiously
alone, for its best instincts warn it that in their midst
it has nothing to hope for, and very much to fear.
For the only kind of culture with which the in-
flamed eye and obtuse brain of the scholar working-
classes concern themselves is of that Philistine
order of which Strauss has announced the gospel.
If we consider for a moment the fundamental
causes underlying the sympathy which binds the
learned working-classes to Culture-Philistinism, we
shall discover the road leading to Strauss the
Writer, who has been acknowledged classical, and
thence to our last and principal theme.
To begin with, that culture has contentment
written in its every feature, and will allow of no
important changes being introduced into the
present state of German education. It is above
all convinced of the originality of all German
educational institutions, more particularly the
public schools and universities; it does not cease
recommending these to foreigners, and never
doubts that if the Germans have become the most
cultivated and discriminating people on earth, it is
owing to such institutions. Culture-Philistinism
believes in itself, consequently it also believes in
the methods and means at its disposal. Secondly,


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DAVID STRAUSS. 65
however, it leaves the highest judgment concerning
all questions of taste and culture to the scholar,
and even regards itself as the ever-increasing
compendium of scholarly opinions regarding art,
literature, and philosophy. Its first care is to urge
the scholar to express his opinions; these it pro-
ceeds to mix, dilute, and systematise, and then
it administers them to the German people in the
form of a bottle of medicine. What comes to life
outside this circle is either not heard or attended
at all, or if heard, is heeded half-heartedly; until,
at last, a voice (it does not matter whose, provided
it belong to some one who is strictly typical of the
scholar tribe) is heard to issue from the temple
in which traditional infallibility of taste is said to
reside; and from that time forward public opinion
has one conviction more, which it echoes and
re-echoes hundreds and hundreds of times. As a
matter of fact, though, the aesthetic infallibility of
any utterance emanating from the temple is the
more doubtful, seeing that the lack of taste, thought,
and artistic feeling in any scholar can be taken
for granted, unless it has previously been proved
that, in his particular case, the reverse is true.
And only a few can prove this. For how many
who have had a share in the breathless and unend-
ing scurry of modern science have preserved that
quiet and courageous gaze of the struggling man
of culture—if they ever possessed it—that gaze
which condemns even the scurry we speak of as
a barbarous state of affairs? That is why these
few are forced to live in an almost perpetual
contradiction. What could they do against the
£


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66 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
uniform belief of the thousands who have enlisted
public opinion in their cause, and who mutually
defend each other in this belief? What purpose
can it serve when one individual openly declares
war against Strauss, seeing that a crowd have
decided in his favour, and that the masses led by
this crowd have learned to ask six consecutive times
for the Master's Philistine sleeping-mixture?
If, without further ado, we here assumed that
the Straussian confession-book had triumphed
over public opinion and had been acclaimed and
welcomed as conqueror, its author might call our
attention to the fact that the multitudinous criti-
cisms of his work in the various public organs are
not of an altogether unanimous or even favourable
character, and that he therefore felt it incumbent
upon him to defend himself against some of the
more malicious, impudent, and provoking of these
newspaper pugilists by means of a postscript.
How can there be a public opinion concerning my
book, he cries to us, if every journalist is to regard
me as an outlaw, and to mishandle me as much as
he likes? This contradiction is easily explained,
as soon as one considers the two aspects of the
Straussian book—the theological and the literary,
and it is only the latter that has anything to do
with German culture. Thanks to its theological
colouring, it stands beyond the pale of our German
culture, and provokes the animosity of the various
theological groups—yea, even of every individual
German, in so far as he is a theological sectarian
from birth, and only invents his own peculiar
private belief in order to be able to dissent from


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DAVID STRAUSS. 67
every other form of belief. But when the question
arises of talking about Strauss the writer, pray
listen to what the theological sectarians have to
say about him. As soon as his literary side comes
under notice, all theological objections immediately
subside, and the dictum comes plain and clear, as
if from the lips of one congregation: In spite of it
all, he is still a classical writer!
Everybody—even the most bigoted, orthodox
Churchman—pays the writer the most gratifying
compliments, while there is always a word or two
thrown in as a tribute to his almost Lessingesque
language, his delicacy of touch, or the beauty and
accuracy of his aesthetic views. As a book, there-
fore, the Straussian performance appears to meet
all the demands of an ideal example of its kind.
The theological opponents, despite the fact that
their voices were the loudest of all, nevertheless
constitute but an infinitesimal portion of the great
public; and even with regard to them, Strauss still
maintains that he is right when he says: "Com-
pared with my thousands of readers, a few dozen
public cavillers form but an insignificant minority,
and they can hardly prove that they are their
faithful interpreters. It was obviously in the
nature of things that opposition should be clamor-
ous and assent tacit. " Thus, apart from the angry
bitterness which Strauss's profession of faith may
have provoked here and there, even the most
fanatical of his opponents, to whom his voice seems
to rise out of an abyss, like the voice of a beast,
are agreed as to his merits as a writer; and that
is why the treatment which Strauss has received at


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68 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
the hands of the literary lackeys of the theological
groups proves nothing against our contention
that Culture-Philistinism celebrated its triumph in
this book. It must be admitted that the average
educated Philistine is a degree less honest than
Strauss, or is at least more reserved in his public
utterances. But this fact only tends to increase
his admiration for honesty in another. At home,
or in the company of his equals, he may applaud
with wild enthusiasm, but takes care not to put
on paper how entirely Strauss's words are in har-
mony with his own innermost feelings. For, as we
have already maintained, our Culture-Philistine
is somewhat of a coward, even in his strongest
sympathies; hence Strauss, who can boast of a
trifle more courage than he, becomes his leader,
notwithstanding the fact that even Straussian pluck
has its very definite limits. If he overstepped
these limits, as Schopenhauer does in almost every
sentence, he would then forfeit his position at the
head of the Philistines, and everybody would flee
from him as precipitately as they are now follow-
ing in his wake. He who would regard this artful
if not sagacious moderation and this mediocre
valour as an Aristotelian virtue, would certainly
be wrong; for the valour in question is not the
golden mean between two faults, but between
a virtue and a fault—and in this mean, between
virtue and fault, all Philistine qualities are to be
found.


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DAVID STRAUSS. 69
IX.
"In spite of it all, he is still a classical writer. "
Well, let us see! Perhaps we may now be allowed
to discuss Strauss the stylist and master of
language; but in the first place let us inquire
whether, as a literary man, he is equal to the
task of building his house, and whether he really
understands the architecture of a book. From this
inquiry we shall be able to conclude whether he is
a respectable, thoughtful, and experienced author;
and even should we be forced to answer " No" to
these questions, he may still, as a last shift, take
refuge in his fame as a classical prose-writer. This
last-mentioned talent alone, it is true, would not
suffice to class him with the classical authors, but
at most with the classical improvisers and virtuosos
of style, who, however, in regard to power of ex-
pression and the whole planning and framing of the
work, reveal the awkward hand and the embarrassed
eye of the bungler. We therefore put the question,
whether Strauss really possesses the artistic strength
necessary for the purpose of presenting us with a
thing that is a whole, totum ponere?
As a rule, it ought to be possible to tell from
the first rough sketch of a work whether the author
conceived the thing as a whole, and whether, in
view of this original conception, he has discovered
the correct way of proceeding with his task and of
fixing its proportions. Should this most important
part of the problem be solved, and should the
framework of the building have been given its most


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70 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
favourable proportions, even then there remains
enough to be done: how many smaller faults have
to be corrected, how many gaps require filling in!
Here and there a temporary partition or floor was
found to answer the requirements; everywhere
dust and fragments litter the ground, and no
matter where we look, we see the signs of work done
and work still to be done. The house, as a whole,
is still uninhabitable and gloomy, its walls are bare,
and the wind blows in through the open windows.
Now, whether this remaining, necessary, and very
irksome work has been satisfactorily accomplished
by Strauss does not concern us at present; our
question is, whether the building itself has been
conceived as a whole, and whether its proportions
are good? The reverse of this, of course, would
be a compilation of fragments—a method generally
adopted by scholars. They rely upon it that
these fragments are related among themselves,
and thus confound the logical and the artistic
relation between them. Now, the relation between
the four questions which provide the chapter-head-
ings of Strauss's book cannot be called a logical
one. Are we still Christians? Have we still a
religion? What is our conception of the universe?
What is our rule of life? And it is by no means
contended that the relation is illogical simply
because the third question has nothing to do with
the second, nor the fourth with the third, nor all
three with the first. The natural scientist who
puts the third question, for instance, shows his
unsullied love of truth by the simple fact that he
tacitly passes over the second. And with regard


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DAVID STRAUSS. 71
to the subject of the fourth chapter—marriage,
republicanism, and capital punishment—Strauss
himself seems to have been aware that they could
only have been muddled and obscured by being
associated with the Darwinian theory expounded
in the third chapter; for he carefully avoids all
reference to this theory when discussing them. But
the question, "Are we still Christians? " destroys
the freedom of the philosophical standpoint at
one stroke, by lending it an unpleasant theological
colouring. Moreover, in this matter, he quite
forgot that the majority of men to-day are not
Christians at all, but Buddhists. Why should one,
without further ceremony, immediately think of
Christianity at the sound of the words "old
faith"? Is this a sign that Strauss has never
ceased to be a Christian theologian, and that he
has therefore never learned to be a philosopher?
For we find still greater cause for surprise in the
fact that he quite fails to distinguish between belief
and knowledge, and continually mentions his " new
belief" and the still newer science in one breath.
Or is " new belief" merely an ironical concession
to ordinary parlance? This almost seems to be
the case; for here and there he actually allows
"new belief" and "newer science" to be inter-
changeable terms, as for instance on page ir,
where he asks on which side, whether on that of
the ancient orthodoxy or of modern science, "exist
more of the obscurities and insufficiencies unavoid-
able in human speculation. "
Moreover, according to the scheme laid down
in the Introduction, his desire is to disclose those


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72 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
proofs upon which the modern view of life is based;
but he derives all these proofs from science, and
in this respect assumes far more the attitude of a
scientist than of a believer.
At bottom, therefore, the religion is not a new
belief, but, being of a piece with modern science, it
has nothing to do with religion at all. If Strauss,
however, persists in his claims to be religious, the
grounds for these claims must be beyond the pale
of recent science. Only the smallest portion of the
Straussian book—that is to say, but a few isolated
pages—refer to what Strauss in all justice might
call a belief, namely, that feeling for the "All"
for which he demands the piety that the old
believer demanded for his God. On the pages in
question, however, he cannot claim to be altogether
scientific; but if only he could lay claim to being
a little stronger, more natural, more outspoken,
more pious, we should be content. Indeed, what
perhaps strikes us most forcibly about him is the
multitude of artificial procedures of which he avails
himself before he ultimately gets the feeling that
he still possesses a belief and a religion; he
reaches it by means of stings and blows, as we
have already seen. How indigently and feebly
this emergency-belief presents itself to us! We
shiver at the sight of it.
Although Strauss, in the plan laid down in his
Introduction, promises to compare the two faiths,
the old and the new, and to show that the latter
will answer the same purpose as the former, even
he begins to feel, in the end, that he has promised
too much. For the question whether the new


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DAVID STRAUSS. 73
belief answers the same purpose as the old,
or is better or worse, is disposed of incident-
ally, so to speak, and with uncomfortable haste,
in two or three pages (p. 436 et seq'), and
is actually bolstered up by the following subter-
fuge: "He who cannot help himself in this matter
is beyond help, is not yet ripe for our standpoint"
(p. 436). How differently, and with what intensity
of conviction, did the ancient Stoic believe in the
All and the rationality of the All! And, viewed
in this light, how does Strauss's claim to originality
appear? But, as we have already observed, it
would be a matter of indifference to us whether it
were new, old, original, or imitated, so that it were
only more powerful, more healthy, and more
natural. Even Strauss himself leaves this double-
distilled emergency-belief to take care of itself as
often as he can do so, in order to protect himself and
us from danger, and to present his recently acquired
biological knowledge to his "We" with a clear con-
science. The more embarrassed he may happen to
be when he speaks of faith, the rounder and fuller
his mouth becomes when he quotes the greatest
benefactor to modern men—Darwin. Then he not
only exacts belief for the new Messiah, but also for
himself—the new apostle. For instance, while dis-
cussing one of the most intricate questions in
natural history, he declares with true ancient pride:
"I shall be told that I am here speaking of things
about which I understand nothing. Very well; but
others will come who will understand them, and
who will also have understood me" (p. 241).
According to this, it would almost seem as


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74 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
though the famous "We" were not only in duty
bound to believe in the "All," but also in the
naturalist Strauss; in this case we can only hope
that in order to acquire the feeling for this last
belief, other processes are requisite than the pain-
ful and cruel ones demanded by the first belief.
Or is it perhaps sufficient in this case that the
subject of belief himself be tormented and stabbed
with the view of bringing the believers to that
"religious reaction" which is the distinguishing
sign of the "new faith. " What merit should we
then discover in the piety of those whom Strauss
calls "We"?
Otherwise, it is almost to be feared that modern
men will pass on in pursuit of their business
without troubling themselves overmuch concern-
ing the new furniture of faith offered them by
the apostle: just as they have done heretofore,
without the doctrine of the rationality of the All.
The whole of modern biological and historical
research has nothing to do with the Straussian
belief in the All, and the fact that the modern
Philistine does not require the belief is proved by
the description of his life given by Strauss in the
chapter," What is our Rule of Life? " He is there-
fore quite right in doubting whether the coach to
which his esteemed readers have been obliged to
trust themselves "with him, fulfils every require-
ment. " It certainly does not; for the modern man
makes more rapid progress when he does not take
his place in the Straussian coach, or rather, he got
ahead much more quickly long before the Straussian
coach ever existed. Now, if it be true that the


## p. 75 (#167) #############################################

DAVID STRAUSS. 75
famous " minority " which is " not to be overlooked,"
and of which, and in whose name, Strauss speaks,
"attaches great importance to consistency," it must
be just as dissatisfied with Strauss the Coachbuilder
as we are with Strauss the Logician.
Let us, however, drop the question of the logician.
Perhaps, from the artistic point of view, the book
really is an example of a well-conceived plan, and
does, after all, answer to the requirements of the
laws of beauty, despite the fact that it fails to meet
with the demands of a well-conducted argument.
And now, having shown that he is neither a scientist
nor a strictly correct and systematic scholar, for
the first time we approach the question: Is Strauss
a capable writer? Perhaps the task he set himself
was not so much to scare people away from the
old faith as to captivate them by a picturesque
and graceful description of what life would be with
the new. If he regarded scholars and educated
men as his most probable audience, experience
ought certainly to have told him that whereas one
can shoot such men down with the heavy guns of
scientific proof, but cannot make them surrender,
they may be got to capitulate all the more quickly
before "lightly equipped" measures of seduction.
"Lightly equipped," and "intentionally so," thus
Strauss himself speaks of his own book. Nor do
his public eulogisers refrain from using the same
expression in reference to the work, as the following
passage, quoted from one of the least remarkable
among them, and in which the same expression is
merely paraphrased, will go to prove:—
"The discourse flows on with delightful harmony:


## p. 76 (#168) #############################################

76 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
wherever it directs its criticism against old ideas it
wields the art of demonstration, almost playfully;
and it is with some spirit that it prepares the new
ideas it brings so enticingly, and presents them
to the simple as well as to the fastidious taste.
The arrangement of such diverse and conflicting
material is well thought out for every portion of it
required to be touched upon, without being made
too prominent; at times the transitions leading
from one subject to another are artistically
managed, and one hardly knows what to admire
most—the skill with which unpleasant questions
are shelved, or the discretion with which they are
hushed up. "
The spirit of such eulogies, as the above clearly
shows, is not quite so subtle in regard to judging
of what an author is able to do as in regard to
what he wishes. What Strauss wishes, however, is
best revealed by his own emphatic and not quite
harmless commendation of Voltaire's charms, in
whose service he might have learned precisely those
"lightly equipped" arts of which his admirer
speaks—granting, of course, that virtue may be
acquired and a pedagogue can ever be a dancer.
Who could help having a suspicion or two, when
reading the following passage, for instance, in which
Strauss says of Voltaire, "As a philosopher [he]
is certainly not original, but in the main a mere
exponent of English investigations: in this respect,
however, he shows himself to be completely master
of his subject, which he presents with incom-
parable skill, in all possible lights and from all
possible sides, and is able withal to meet the de-


## p. 77 (#169) #############################################

DAVID STRAUSS. 77
mands of thoroughness, without, however, being
over-severe in his method "? Now, all the negative
traits mentioned in this passage might be applied
to Strauss. No one would contend, I suppose,
that Strauss is original, or that he is over-severe in
his method; but the question is whether we can
regard him as "master of his subject," and grant
him "incomparable skill"? The confession to the
effect that the treatise was intentionally "lightly
equipped " leads us to think that it at least aimed at
incomparable skill.
It was not the dream of our architect to build a
temple, nor yet a house, but a sort of summer-
pavilion, surrounded by everything that the art of
gardening can provide. Yea, it even seems as if
that mysterious feeling for the All were only cal-
culated to produce an aesthetic effect, to be, so to
speak, a view of an irrational element, such as the
sea, looked at from the most charming and rational
of terraces. The walk through the first chapters—
that is to say, through the theological catacombs
with all their gloominess and their involved and
baroque embellishments—was also no more than
an aesthetic expedient in order to throw into greater
relief the purity, clearness, and common sense of
the chapter "What is our Conception of the Uni-
verse? " For, immediately after that walk in the
gloaming and that peep into the wilderness of
Irrationalism, we step into a hall with a skylight
to it. Soberly and limpidly it welcomes us: its
mural decorations consist of astronomical charts
and mathematical figures; it is filled with scientific
apparatus, and its cupboards contain skeletons,


## p. 78 (#170) #############################################

78 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
stuffed apes, and anatomical specimens. But now,
really rejoicing for the first time, we direct our steps
into the innermost chamber of bliss belonging to
our pavilion-dwellers; there we find them with
their wives, children, and newspapers, occupied in
the commonplace discussion of politics; we listen
for a moment to their conversation on marriage,
universal suffrage, capital punishment, and work-
men's strikes, and we can scarcely believe it to be
possible that the rosary of public opinions can be
told off so quickly. At length an attempt is made
to convince us of the classical taste of the inmates.
A moment's halt in the library, and the music-room
suffices to show us what we had expected all along,
namely, that the best books lay on the shelves, and
that the most famous musical compositions were
in the music-cabinets. Some one actually played
something to us, and even if it were Haydn's music,
Haydn could not be blamed because it sounded
like Riehl's music for the home. Meanwhile the
host had found occasion to announce to us his
complete agreement with Lessing and Goethe,
although with the latter only up to the second part
of Faust. At last our pavilion-owner began to
praise himself, and assured us that he who could
not be happy under his roof was beyond help
and could not be ripe for his standpoint, where-
upon he offered us his coach, but with the polite
reservation that he could not assert that it would
fulfil every requirement, and that, owing to the
stones on his road having been newly laid down,
we were not to mind if we were very much
jolted. Our Epicurean garden-god then took


## p. 79 (#171) #############################################

DAVID STRAUSS. 79
leave of us with the incomparable skill which he
praised in Voltaire.
Who could now persist in doubting the existence
of this incomparable skill? The complete master
of his subject is revealed; the lightly equipped
artist-gardener is exposed, and still we hear the
voice of the classical author saying, " As a writer I
shall for once cease to be a Philistine: I will not
be one; I refuse to be one! But a Voltaire—the
German Voltaire—or at least the French Lessing. "
With this we have betrayed a secret. Our
Master does not always know which he prefers
to be—Voltaire or Lessing; but on no account
will he be a Philistine. At a pinch he would not
object to being both Lessing and Voltaire—that
the word might be fulfilled that is written," He had
no character, but when he wished to appear as if
he had, he assumed one. "
If we have understood Strauss the Confessor
correctly, he must be a genuine Philistine, with a
narrow, parched soul and scholarly and common-
place needs; albeit no one would be more indignant
at the title than David Strauss the Writer. He
would be quite happy to be regarded as mischievous,
bold, malicious, daring; but his ideal of bliss would
consist in finding himself compared with either
Lessing or Voltaire—because these men were un-
doubtedly anything but Philistines. In striving
after this state of bliss, he often seems to waver


## p. 80 (#172) #############################################

80
THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
between two alternatives — either to mimic the
brave and dialectical petulance of Lessing, or to
affect the manner of the faun-like and free-spirited
man of antiquity that Voltaire was. When taking
up his pen to write, he seems to be continually
posing for his portrait; and whereas at times
his features are drawn to look like Lessing's,
anon they are made to assume the Voltairean
mould. While reading his praise of Voltaire's
manner, we almost seem to see him abjuring the
consciences of his contemporaries for not having
learned long ago what the modern Voltaire had
to offer them. “Even his excellences are won-
derfully uniform,” he says: “simple naturalness,
transparent clearness, vivacious mobility, seductive
charm. Warmth and emphasis are also not want-
ing where they are needed, and Voltaire's innermost
nature always revolted against stiltedness and
affectation; while, on the other hand, if at times
wantonness or passion descend to an unpleasantly
low level, the fault does not rest so much with the
stylist as with the man. ” According to this, Strauss
seems only too well aware of the importance of
simplicity in style; it is ever the sign of genius, which
alone has the privilege to express itself naturally
and guilelessly. When, therefore, an author selects
a simple mode of expression, this is no sign what-
ever of vulgar ambition; for although many are
aware of what such an author would fain be taken
for, they are yet kind enough to take him precisely
for that. The genial writer, however, not only
reveals his true nature in the plain and unmis-
takable form of his utterance, but his super-


## p. 81 (#173) #############################################

DAVID STRAUSS.
81
abundant strength actually dallies with the material
he treats, even when it is dangerous and difficult.
Nobody treads stiffly along unknown paths, especi-
ally when these are broken throughout their course
by thousands of crevices and furrows; but the
genius speeds nimbly over them, and, leaping with
grace and daring, scorns the wistful and timorous
step of caution.
Even Strauss knows that the problems he
prances over are dreadfully serious, and have ever
been regarded as such by the philosophers who
have grappled with them; yet he calls his book
lightly equipped! But of this dreadfulness and of
the usual dark nature of our meditations when con-
sidering such questions as the worth of existence
and the duties of man, we entirely cease to be
conscious when the genial Master plays his antics
before us, “lightly equipped, and intentionally so. ”
Yes, even more lightly equipped than his Rousseau,
of whom he tells us it was said that he stripped
himself below and adorned himself on top, whereas
Goethe did precisely the reverse. Perfectly guile-
less geniuses do not, it appears, adorn themselves
at all; possibly the words “lightly equipped” may
simply be a euphemism for “naked. ” The few
who happen to have seen the Goddess of Truth
declare that she is naked, and perhaps, in the minds
of those who have never seen her, but who implicitly
believe those few, nakedness or light equipment
is actually a proof, or at least a feature, of truth.
Even this vulgar superstition turns to the advan-
tage of the author's ambition. Some one sees
something naked, and he exclaims: "What if this


## p. 81 (#174) #############################################


80
Teens CT OR SEASON
THOUGHTS
Ille
110
TE
sight of a so
which manife
him as a con
society as an d er Wide bizel broke hue
bon ay pag ar palie
, le mately found a lot
cena letal der tan ane distres va
wings, and si
stage we bring
into view: but
dayad lo mazas his dreling place at
castry and other we came to comprehend te
side?
The charact
but the succes
is clear he is
tan krag lagd of tire The greater tal de
des entreten ble skrental in heavy mist; dirt
reveal someth
recall Rienzi
Tannhäuser a
for any los tr te maron, and thus alibiyet
de manera o fail in the future he was not alone
bo dani He must have felt like a neten
between two alternativ
brave and dialectical p
affect the manner of the
man of antiquity that V
up his pen to write, he
posing for his portrai
his features are drawi
anon they are made t
mould. While reading
manner, we almost seen
consciences of his conte
learned long ago what
to offer them. “Even
derfully uniform,” he s
transparent clearness, vi
charm. Warmth and en
ing where they are neede
nature always revolted
affectation; while, on ti
wantonness or passion d
low level, the fault does
stylist as with the man. ”
seems only too well aw
simplicity in style; it is ev
alone has the privilege
and guilelessly. When,
a simple mode of expres
ever of vulgar ambition
aware of what such an a
for, they are yet kind en
for that. The genial
reveals his true nature
takable form of his
Tristan and
Brunhilda, -a
Tant el dag zat tanaing manly algo de
readh a dent drukar why far fan kang the
The thought was a temptation to his faits
gai bagal pa by his tempuran bigas de
by a secret cu
morality which
ever purer an
this point we
the presence
Wagner's own
meet with the
Schiller's char
stein and To
course, and
author's deve
I is higher and
In the Nibel
hilda is awal
daing the bes bal d matatir in the day
detavad nika'lake hal bi haus haluar
moral music
to such a hig
unconscious)
snow-peaks o


## p. 81 (#175) #############################################


\YREUTH.
115
ਪਰ ਇਸ ਨਾਲ ਨਾਲ ਹੈ : t s :ਣ ਹੋਇ
Nikosaya të dog ukone
dyte mateka traga zane
and bathed
lay herself,
d even the
ber. Now,
Tannhäuser
e n el pre ting at ang mit
Textir aste it al
to perceive
stucasly be
power and
as y actices , 22
len preto sad by philosophia eta
throw of
frecisa ser HTLITE VZS
star ap
h melan-
sed it, be
blicated for him ;
he discovered in
rmore resourceful
little more than
and expedients,
ed, only for the
i occurred to his
uined closely and
life, to recall one
night be said to
vention burlesque
nust have been,
le periods of his
in it,-he who
, breathed freely
ablime spheres,
a.
ife, a detailed de-
der to inspire the
ion which are its
uiring knowledge,
the nation learned
raordinary. And
anger threatened
ble than that in
tly without either
thither by disturb-
ring his strength
ster of music and
ventor in the pre-
the execution of
✓ him the glory of
el for lofty artistic
mage and
ries of the



## p. 81 (#176) #############################################


80
THE CONTES AT OP SZALON
THOUGHTS
14
110
TH
sight of a sou
which manifes
him as a cons
wings, and she
stage we bring
into view: but
side?
The characte
but the success
is clear he is !
secih etmed te le borsel brake boy
han ng peterpartie de ancly hund a bez
cranio taldeare dan once distres a
al bar ons banget bin. Thus Wa
dogad bis sechs bis dreling place a
mentand then we come to comprehet
nature of the sites lib rich he gravitate
bendrak bu ke was able to take
than trag legd od time The greater bal
Ismertebbe stated in heavy mit is
Ang the league sto kere had no general by
between two alterna
brave and dialectical
affect the manner of
man of antiquity that
up his pen to write,
posing for his porti
his features are dra
anon they are made
mould. While read
manner, we almost se
consciences of his co
learned long ago wha
to offer them. "Eve
derfully uniform," he
transparent clearness,
charm. Warmth and
ing where they are nee
nature always revolt
affectation; while, on
wantonness or passion
low level, the fault do
stylist as with the man
seems only too well
simplicity in style; it is
alone has the privileg
and guilelessly. Whe
a simple mode of expl
ever of vulgar ambit
aware of what such ai
for, they are yet kind
for that. The genia
reveals his true natur
takable form of his
reveal somethi
recall Rienzi!
Tannhäuser an
Tristan and 1
Brunhilda, – all
by a secret cur
frankos kr te marom, and thus alle
nad olid to the future, he was not alone
to davant le max have felt like a com
tarteles draken with fatigue, eraseated
morality which
ever purer and
calles zonezh a' death rather langs kart
this point we
The taget nosa temptation to his fizik
ga bugal w by his temerary hyes
dzig tes les act d'andata in the de
the presence o
Wagner's own
meet with the
Schiller's chara
stein and Te
course, and I'
author's devel
I is higher and
In the Nibelu
hilda is awak
moral music!
to such a hig)
unconsciously
snow-peaks ol
kian, hor ter were cap sinhos torta


## p. 81 (#177) #############################################


UTH.
115
III
AYREUTH.
waren tachta s ka
צנצנו. הנצפון
; and bathed
splay berseli,
nd even the
het. Now
Tannhänser
to percent
1: how rest
estuously he
e power and
n which he
to throw off
brine The
per E27
to renounce
od now into
d the most
the related intes
blicated for him;
he discovered in
rmore resourceful
little more than
and expedients,
ed, only for the
s occurred to his
ained closely and
life, to recall one
night be said to
hention burlesque
must have been
le periods of his
in it,—he who
, breathed freely
ablime spheres,
ta.
ife, a detailed de-
rder to inspire the
ion which are its
uiring knowledge,,
the nation learned
raordinary. And
anger threatened
ble than that in-
tly without either
thither by disturb-
ving his strength
ster of music and
ventor in the pre-
the execution of
y him the glory of
el for lofty artistic
ith melan-
ompositions
series of the

Tannhera
Labegin
Tevere le
I


## p. 81 (#178) #############################################

80 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
between two alternatives — either to mimic the
brave and dialectical petulance of Lessing, or to
affect the manner of the faun-like and free-spirited
man of antiquity that Voltaire was. When taking
up his pen to write, he seems to be continually
posing for his portrait; and whereas at times
his features are drawn to look like Lessing's,
anon they are made to assume the Voltairean
mould. While reading his praise of Voltaire's
manner, we almost seem to see him abjuring the
consciences of his contemporaries for not having
learned long ago what the modern Voltaire had
to offer them. "Even his excellences are won-
derfully uniform," he says: "simple naturalness,
transparent clearness, vivacious mobility, seductive
charm. Warmth and emphasis are also not want-
ing where they are needed, and Voltaire's innermost
nature always revolted against stiltedness and
affectation; while, on the other hand, if at times
wantonness or passion descend to an unpleasantly
low level, the fault does not rest so much with the
stylist as with the man. " According to this, Strauss
seems only too well aware of the importance of
simplicity in style; it is ever the sign of genius, which
alone has the privilege to express itself naturally
and guilelessly. When, therefore, an author selects
a simple mode of expression, this is no sign what-
ever of vulgar ambition; for although many are
aware of what such an author would fain be taken
for, they are yet kind enough to take him precisely
for that. The genial writer, however, not only
reveals his true nature in the plain and unmis-
takable form of his utterance, but his super-


## p. 81 (#179) #############################################

DAVID STRAUSS. 81
abundant strength actually dallies with the material
he treats, even when it is dangerous and difficult.
Nobody treads stiffly along unknown paths, especi-
ally when these are broken throughout their course
by thousands of crevices and furrows; but the
genius speeds nimbly over them, and, leaping with
grace and daring, scorns the wistful and timorous
step of caution.
Even Strauss knows that the problems he
prances over are dreadfully serious, and have ever
been regarded as such by the philosophers who
have grappled with them; yet he calls his book
lightly equipped! But of this dreadfulness and of
the usual dark nature of our meditations when con-
sidering such questions as the worth of existence
and the duties of man, we entirely cease to be
conscious when the genial Master plays his antics
before us, "lightly equipped, and intentionally so. "
Yes, even more lightly equipped than his Rousseau,
of whom he tells us it was said that he stripped
himself below and adorned himself on top, whereas
Goethe did precisely the reverse. Perfectly guile-
less geniuses do not, it appears, adorn themselves
at all; possibly the words "lightly equipped" may
simply be a euphemism for "naked. " The few
who happen to have seen the Goddess of Truth
declare that she is naked, and perhaps, in the minds
of those who have never seen her, but who implicitly
believe those few, nakedness or light equipment
is actually a proof, or at least a feature, of truth.
Even this vulgar superstition turns to the advan-
tage of the author's ambition. Some one sees
something naked, and he exclaims: "What if this
F


## p. 82 (#180) #############################################

82 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
were the truth! " Whereupon he grows more
solemn than is his wont. By this means, however,
the author scores a tremendous advantage; for he
compels his reader to approach him with greater
solemnity than another and perhaps more heavily
equipped writer. This is unquestionably the best
way to become a classical author; hence Strauss
himself is able to tell us: "I even enjoy the un-
sought honour of being, in the opinion of many, a
classical writer of prose. " He has therefore achieved
his aim. Strauss the Genius goes gadding about
the streets in the garb of lightly equipped goddesses
as a classic, while Strauss the Philistine, to use an
original expression of this genius's, must, at all
costs, be "declared to be on the decline," or
"irrevocably dismissed. "
But, alas! in spite of all declarations of decline
and dismissal, the Philistine still returns, and all
too frequently. Those features, contorted to
resemble Lessing and Voltaire, must relax from
time to time to resume their old and original shape.
The mask of genius falls from them too often, and
the Master's expression is never more sour and his
movements never stiffer than when he has just
attempted to take the leap, or to glance with the
fiery eye, of a genius. Precisely owing to the fact
that he is too lightly equipped for our zone, he runs
the risk of catching cold more often and more
severely than another. It may seem a terrible
hardship to him that every one should notice this;
but if he wishes to be cured, the following diagnosis
of his case ought to be publicly presented to him :—
Once upon a time there lived a Strauss, a brave,


## p. 83 (#181) #############################################

DAVID STRAUSS. 83
severe, and stoutly equipped scholar, with whom
we sympathised as wholly as with all those in
Germany who seek to serve truth with earnestness
and energy, and to rule within the limits of their
powers. He, however, who is now publicly famous
as David Strauss, is another person. The theo-
logians may be to blame for this metamorphosis;
but, at any rate, his present toying with the mask
of genius inspires us with as much hatred and
scorn as his former earnestness commanded respect
and sympathy. When, for instance, he tells us,
"it would also argue ingratitude towards my genius
if I were not to rejoice that to the faculty of an
incisive, analytical criticism was added the innocent
pleasure in artistic production," it may astonish
him to hear that, in spite of this self-praise, there
are still men who maintain exactly the reverse, and
who say, not only that he has never possessed the
gift of artistic production, but that the "innocent"
pleasure he mentions is of all things the least
innocent, seeing that it succeeded in gradually
undermining and ultimately destroying a nature
as strongly and deeply scholarly and critical as
Strauss's—in fact, the real Straussian genius. In
a moment of unlimited frankness, Strauss himself
indeed adds: "Merck was always in my thoughts,
calling out, 'Don't produce such child's play
again; others can do that too! '" That was the
voice of the real Straussian genius, which also
asked him what the worth of his newest, innocent,
and lightly equipped modern Philistine's testament
was. Others can do that too! And many could
do it better. And even they who could have done


## p. 84 (#182) #############################################

84 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
it best, i. e. those thinkers who are more widely
endowed than Strauss, could still only have made
nonsense of it.
I take it that you are now beginning to under-
stand the value I set on Strauss the Writer. You
are beginning to realise that I regard him as a
mummer who would parade as an artless genius
and classical writer. When Lichtenberg said, "A
simple manner of writing is to be recommended,
if only in view of the fact that no honest man
trims and twists his expressions," he was very far
from wishing to imply that a simple style is a proof
of literary integrity. I, for my part, only wish that
Strauss the Writer had been more upright, for then
he would have written more becomingly and have
been less famous. Or, if he would be a mummer
at all costs, how much more would he not have
pleased me if he had been a better mummer—one
more able to ape the guileless genius and classical
author! For it yet remains to be said that Strauss
was not only an inferior actor but a very worthless
stylist as well.
XI.
Of course, the blame attaching to Strauss for
being a bad writer is greatly mitigated by the fact
that it is extremely difficult in Germany to become
even a passable or moderately good writer, and
that it is more the exception than not, to be a
really good one. In this respect the natural soil is
wanting, as are also artistic values and the proper
method of treating and cultivating oratory. This


## p. 85 (#183) #############################################

DAVID STRAUSS. 85
latter accomplishment, as the various branches of
it, i. e. drawing-room, ecclesiastical and Parlia-
mentary parlance, show, has not yet reached the
level of a national style; indeed, it has not yet
shown even a tendency to attain to a style at all,
and all forms of language in Germany do not yet
seem to have passed a certain experimental stage.
In view of these facts, the writer of to-day, to
some extent, lacks an authoritative standard, and
he is in some measure excused if, in the matter of
language, he attempts to go ahead of his own
accord. As to the probable result which the
present dilapidated condition of the German
language will bring about, Schopenhauer, perhaps,
has spoken most forcibly. "If the existing state of
affairs continues," he says, "in the year 1900
German classics will cease to be understood, for
the simple reason that no other language will be
known, save the trumpery jargon of the noble
present, the chief characteristic of which is im-
potence. " And, in truth, if one turn to the latest
periodicals, one will find German philologists and
grammarians already giving expression to the
view that our classics can no longer serve us as
examples of style, owing to the fact that they
constantly use words, modes of speech, and syntactic
arrangements which are fast dropping out of
currency. Hence the need of collecting specimens
of the finest prose that has been produced by our
best modern writers, and of offering them as
examples to be followed, after the style of Sander's
pocket dictionary of bad language. In this book,
that repulsive monster of style Gutzkow appears as


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86 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
a classic, and, according to its injunctions, we seem
to be called upon to accustom ourselves to quite a
new and wondrous crowd of classical authors,
among which the first, or one of the first, is David
Strauss: he whom we cannot describe more aptly
than we have already—that is to say, as a worthless
stylist. Now, the notion which the Culture-
Philistine has of a classic and standard author
speaks eloquently for his pseudo-culture—he who
only shows his strength by opposing a really
artistic and severe style, and who, thanks to the
persistence of his opposition, finally arrives at
a certain uniformity of expression, which again
almost appears to possess unity of genuine style.
In view, therefore, of the right which is granted to
every one to experiment with the language, how is
it possible at all for individual authors to discover
a generally agreeable tone? What is so generally
interesting in them? In the first place, a negative
quality—the total lack of offensiveness: but
every really productive thing is offensive. The
greater part of a German's daily reading matter is
undoubtedly sought either in the pages of news-
papers, periodicals, or reviews. The language of
these journals gradually stamps itself on his brain,
by means of its steady drip, drip, drip of similar
phrases and similar words. And, since he generally
devotes to reading those hours of the day during
which his exhausted brain is in any case not
inclined to offer resistance, his ear for his native
tongue so slowly but surely accustoms itself to this
everyday German that it ultimately cannot endure
its absence without pain. But the manufacturers


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DAVID STRAUSS. 87
of these newspapers are, by virtue of their trade,
most thoroughly inured to the effluvia of this
journalistic jargon; they have literally lost all
taste, and their palate is rather gratified than not
by the most corrupt and arbitrary innovations.
Hence the tutti unisono with which, despite the
general lethargy and sickliness, every fresh
solecism is greeted; it is with such impudent
corruptions of the language that her hirelings are
avenged against her for the incredible boredom
she imposes ever more and more upon them. I
remember having read " an appeal to the German
nation," by Berthold Auerbach, in which every
sentence was un-German, distorted and false, and
which, as a whole, resembled a soulless mosaic of
words cemented together with international syntax.
As to the disgracefully slipshod German with
which Edward Devrient solemnised the death of
Mendelssohn, I do not even wish to do more than
refer to it. A grammatical error—and this is the
most extraordinary feature of the case—does not
therefore seem an offence in any sense to our
Philistine, but a most delightful restorative in the
barren wilderness of everyday German. He still,
however, considers all really productive things to
be offensive. The wholly bombastic, distorted,
and threadbare syntax of the modern standard
author—yea, even his ludicrous neologisms—are
not only tolerated, but placed to his credit as the
spicy element in his works. But woe to the stylist
with character, who seeks as earnestly and perse-
veringly to avoid the trite phrases of everyday
parlance, as the "yester-night monster blooms of


## p. 88 (#186) #############################################

88 THOUGHTS OUT OF SEASON.
modern ink - flingers," as Schopenhauer says!
When platitudes, hackneyed, feeble, and vulgar
phrases are the rule, and the bad and the corrupt
become refreshing exceptions, then all that is
strong, distinguished, and beautiful perforce acquires
an evil odour. From which it follows that, in
Germany, the well-known experience which befell
the normally built traveller in the land of hunch-
backs is constantly being repeated. It will be
remembered that he was so shamefully insulted
there, owing to his quaint figure and lack of dorsal
convexity, that a priest at last had to harangue the
people on his behalf as follows: "My brethren,
rather pity this poor stranger, and present thank-
offerings unto the gods, that ye are blessed with
such attractive gibbosities. "
If any one attempted to compose a positive
grammar out of the international German style of
to-day, and wished to trace the unwritten and
unspoken laws followed by every one, he would
get the most extraordinary notions of style
and rhetoric. He would meet with laws which
are probably nothing more than reminiscences
of bygone schooldays, vestiges of impositions
for Latin prose, and results perhaps of choice
readings from French novelists, over whose
incredible crudeness every decently educated
Frenchman would have the right to laugh. But
no conscientious native of Germany seems to have
given a thought to these extraordinary notions
under the yoke of which almost every German
lives and writes.
As an example of what I say, we may find an


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DAVID STRAUSS. 89
injunction to the effect that a metaphor or a simile
must be introduced from time to time, and that
it must be new; but, since to the mind of the
shallow-pated writer newness and modernity are
identical, he proceeds forthwith to rack his brain
for metaphors in the technical vocabularies of the
railway, the telegraph, the steamship, and the
Stock Exchange, and is proudly convinced that such
metaphors must be new because they are modern.
In Strauss's confession-book we find liberal tribute
paid to modern metaphor. He treats us to a simile,
covering a page and a half, drawn from modern
road-improvement work; a few pages farther back
he likens the world to a machine, with its wheels,
stampers, hammers, and "soothing oil" (p.